One of the production assistants, Tegan, maybe, made her a mix cd and passed it to her after she’d complemented the music in the SUV on the way to a location.
“It’s mostly Matt Good. He’s a local.” The girl had said and hadn’t quite met her eyes,
Katee likes the music. It’s loud and angry but still has a melody and that’s one of those things she appreciates.
The song changes and the tempo increases and she increases her pace, pounds the punching bag just a fraction more quickly. She likes the way the impact jars up her entire arm, moves through her body and up through her ribs.
There’s something about this song that makes it easy for her to lose herself, makes it simple to concentrate on nothing but the way her hands feel, impacting worn leather and duct tape.
Left right and kick and she likes the way she feels when she balances all of her weight on one leg as she does a round off kick into the high, untaped portion of the bag.
She’s focused on the music and the way the bag swings when she feels someone behind her, feels a presence, and she doesn’t think, just spins and moves and uses her momentum to turn and punch the shit out of the person behind her.
A body goes down, and it takes a second to clear the red from her vision. Jamie is sprawled on the mats, hand at his jaw.
“Oh my god,” she says, and drops to the mat, almost on top of him. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she leans forward and almost grasps his jaw, averts her hand to his shoulder at the last second.
“I think . . .” he trails off, runs his jaw. “Jesus, Katee. You hit hard.” His arm moves and she realizes she is almost in his lap and doesn’t care, moves closer to make sure she didn’t hurt him.
“Are you sure . . .” she trails off and she shifts closer, straddles a thigh and examines him that much more closely.
“Yeah,” Jamie breathes and his breath tickles her jaw. She tries not to shiver, but can’t help the way her legs clamp around his thigh.
“Katee,” he breathes, and really looks at her, eyes wide and round.
She doesn’t know who moves first but his mouth is on hers and they are kissing before she really knows what is going on.
“Jamie-“ she gasps against his tongue, but they are all lips and teeth and tongue and she cannot manager anything more past the feeling of his hand on her hip.
Any chance you'll archive all your fic bits in a post on hotangstywtf? They're kinda hard to find, surfing through the comments. And I just can't get enough! oh god. it IS crack.
You write beautiful crack. I hadn't read RPF in years and then I started reading BSG and found the BSGRPFcommunity by accident. It's so wrong and yet their chemistry in character makes us want to read them having chemistry in fan fiction regardless of actual real life.
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[][][]
One of the production assistants, Tegan, maybe, made her a mix cd and passed it to her after she’d complemented the music in the SUV on the way to a location.
“It’s mostly Matt Good. He’s a local.” The girl had said and hadn’t quite met her eyes,
Katee likes the music. It’s loud and angry but still has a melody and that’s one of those things she appreciates.
The song changes and the tempo increases and she increases her pace, pounds the punching bag just a fraction more quickly. She likes the way the impact jars up her entire arm, moves through her body and up through her ribs.
There’s something about this song that makes it easy for her to lose herself, makes it simple to concentrate on nothing but the way her hands feel, impacting worn leather and duct tape.
Left right and kick and she likes the way she feels when she balances all of her weight on one leg as she does a round off kick into the high, untaped portion of the bag.
She’s focused on the music and the way the bag swings when she feels someone behind her, feels a presence, and she doesn’t think, just spins and moves and uses her momentum to turn and punch the shit out of the person behind her.
A body goes down, and it takes a second to clear the red from her vision. Jamie is sprawled on the mats, hand at his jaw.
“Oh my god,” she says, and drops to the mat, almost on top of him. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she leans forward and almost grasps his jaw, averts her hand to his shoulder at the last second.
“I think . . .” he trails off, runs his jaw. “Jesus, Katee. You hit hard.” His arm moves and she realizes she is almost in his lap and doesn’t care, moves closer to make sure she didn’t hurt him.
“Are you sure . . .” she trails off and she shifts closer, straddles a thigh and examines him that much more closely.
“Yeah,” Jamie breathes and his breath tickles her jaw. She tries not to shiver, but can’t help the way her legs clamp around his thigh.
“Katee,” he breathes, and really looks at her, eyes wide and round.
She doesn’t know who moves first but his mouth is on hers and they are kissing before she really knows what is going on.
“Jamie-“ she gasps against his tongue, but they are all lips and teeth and tongue and she cannot manager anything more past the feeling of his hand on her hip.
[][][]
OMG must go to bed!
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*is utterly scandalized and intrigued and a whole host of other conflicting feelings*
But whoa, please continue :)
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Won't stop me, I just wanted to clarify. Hee
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EORLINGASAND DO GOOD.*draws hearts*
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(I'm sure there are lots of us with this on our computers. ADMIT IT, PEOPLE!)
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Which in the end I'm more than okay with.