Current mood:	hopeful
Entry tags:	kara/laura, rating: nc-17

laura/kara, 'ritual'
Title: Ritual
Author: pocketwitch
Pairing: Laura Rosln/Kara Thrace
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 2.
Author's Note: Part 9 of my Laura/Kara series ... a bit of low-angst smut this time, since the next one will likely be a bit less light ...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Offshoot #1: Unsaid | Offshoot #2: Out Loud

So very, very, very many thanks to mesoterica. I swear I would be a basket case every time I posted a story if I didn't have her cheering me on ...



It wasn’t quite as premeditated as it may have seemed. It was mostly luck, really, but Kara was hardly one to shatter an illusion when it worked in her favor.

Granted, Kara did know that Laura was on the Galactica this afternoon. Also granted, she may have done a bit of wandering (disguised, of course, as Purposeful Striding) around the corridors where she thought she might have a chance of glimpsing the President of the Twelve Colonies, striding purposefully herself, fully clothed in the countenance of her position.

Crossing Laura’s path in a corridor that was decidedly, deliciously empty? Luck of the most surprising kind.

“Madam President.” Kara’s strides retained their purpose as she moved toward Laura.

“Captain Thrace.” Brisk. Cool.

Cool, that is, until Kara’s gaze fell hot and thick at her feet, taking in her heels, moving slowly up her legs, lingering at the hemline of her skirt. Laura’s mask may have been superior but it was not, this particular afternoon, fastened very tightly. By the time they stood next to each other Laura’s cheeks were tinted pink and there was the tiniest bit of frenzy hiding behind her glasses.

At any moment the solitude of the corridor could be broken, and Kara’s hand at Laura’s waist was rabbit quick, the contact brief, not daring anything more intimate, simply unable to resist something. Some physical proof to push past the titles.

It was a brief touch to the waist, hardly provocative, yet it made Laura gasp in a way that Kara hadn’t expected. A short gasp, a rough shiver, and her head whipped around, and suddenly the frenzy was a few layers closer to the surface.

Kara’s realization seemed to take forever in her own mind, felt heavy and slow, flickering through an array of possible reasons for this reaction before the truth snapped past her worries and settled in.

Wanting.

Of course. She had gone without at their last meeting; had clearly wanted it, had abstained. Had abstained though she had been bubbling with want that was now brimming over, spilling out her eyes, coating her body, unable to withstand even the slightest touch from her lover without sloshing out onto the floor.

Laura was wanting. Perhaps even needing. Such a restrained touch had garnered this reaction and my gods but how would she react to other touches in this state?

Kara smiled, wide and bright and predatory. Tested her theory. Let her eyes lower, linger across Laura’s chest, licked her lips as she brushed her gaze across the cleavage just visible above the pale violet of Laura’s neckline.

Kara watched that pale skin flush before Laura took a step back, shifted her weight, drew herself up. The gesture was as solid and strong as her voice was soft and shuddery across the final word she managed in this encounter.

“Captain …”

Kara leaned in just enough to speak into Laura’s ear, and her voice was low and quiet and without a trace of question.

“Don’t change out of this outfit tonight.”

She heard Laura’s sharp inhalation just before she turned, strode off. Purposefully. Did not look back. It was only a second following that she heard Laura’s heels meeting the floor as Laura walked in the opposite direction, her pace rhythmic, her own purpose reclaimed.

~*-,._.,'-*~'`^`'~*-',.'_.,-*~'`^`'~*-,-*~'`^`'~*-,._.,-*~'`^`'~*-,-*

Kara entered Laura’s quarters with a body’s worth of confidence and not a shred of surprise to see that Laura was still fully dressed, jacket to heels, her eyes peering over her glasses in that tilt that was just familiar enough that someone else may have mistaken it for her usual appraisal.

Someone else who had never seen Laura shatter. Someone else who had never seen Laura need. Someone else who had never seen Laura both unclothed and naked.

Kara made no mistake. There was appraisal, yes, and plenty of it. There was also fire. And, even further back, tucked so carefully that Kara had to squint for just a moment to see it, there was a question.

Kara did not hesitate as she approached, and her hands were firm at Laura’s hips, her grip certain as she pushed Laura back, and Laura stumbled just slightly at the force of the sudden motion, stumbled but did not resist, and then her back was against the wall and Kara was pressed against her, one arm wrapped snug around her waist, the strength of Kara’s torso pinning her tightly, and Laura’s moan started before the kiss.

The kiss was hard and greedy and Kara’s hand against her thigh was sliding under her skirt, between her legs, and then pushing, flatly, unmoving, giving her the pressure and nothing else.

Laura’s reaction was exquisite. Her hips shoved against Kara’s hand, grinding and working to get a rhythm, and Kara pressed her harder into the wall, limiting her movement, her arm around Laura’s waist pulling tighter, making her gasp into Kara’s mouth, gasp and then exhale on a low, muffled note.

Kara’s lips brushed across Laura’s as she spoke, and as she spoke her hand never stopped pressing, and Laura’s hips never stopped straining, but Kara’s strength never stopped holding, keeping Laura from getting anywhere near what she wanted, and keeping her from it with an ease that was surely playing a part in the dilation of Laura’s eyes, the volume of her breath.

“You wouldn’t let me get you off last time.”

“No.”

“And judging by the state you’re in now, I’m guessing you didn’t finish the job yourself, either.”

Laura’s eyes were molten on hers and it must not have been easy to form a full sentence while struggling desperately for something that remained just out of reach. “That would have been missing the point entirely.”

Kara shivered, licked her lips. She couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t affecting her; that Laura’s shameless, helpless squirming wasn’t battering against her reserve, but that didn’t matter. She felt no need to play her hand close. Laura’s knowledge of her hunger wouldn’t change the specifics of what she was hungry for.

“And the point was to wait.” Her lips pressed against Laura’s throat.

“Yes.”

“To wait until I gave it to you.”

“Yes.”

Kara’s grin was wide against Laura’s skin. “You told me to make it up to you the next time. I’m going to do that. But you’re going to have to give me something, too.”

“What?” Breathy and low, ravenous suspicion.

Kara pulled her head up, looked into Laura’s eyes. Not even her glasses helped maintain the illusion of austerity now. “I told you when we first started this that I wanted to make you beg. I haven’t yet.”

Anticipation. Resignation. “Gods, Kara …”

“You’re going to keep waiting. For as long as I want. And I’m going to make you beg. Honestly. Not for show. I’ll know if you’re faking it. And then I’m going to make you come harder than you thought was possible.”

And they watched each other. Laura’s eyes were as fierce in their pride as they were in their lust, but her fingers were curled against Kara’s back and her hips had no pride, fierce or otherwise, as they continued to writhe against Kara’s hand.

Kara’s voice was whisper soft, as quiet as it was commanding. “You said I was fascinated with the idea of stripping you down. You were right. That’s what I’m going to do. That’s how I’m going to make it up to you. Because that’s what you want.”

Kara had never heard such tenderness in Laura’s voice. “Frak you.”

She recognized reverence of prayer in her own. “I know.”

And she stepped back, releasing Laura, removing her hand as Laura groaned, leaned back against the wall, tried to catch her breath.

Kara dropped to her knees. Took hold of Laura’s skirt, pushed it up, bunching it around Laura’s hips. Pressed a kiss to the top of her thigh through her stockings. Another one just below it, and another just below that. By the time she reached Laura’s ankle there was detectable quivering. Kara ran her tongue flatly along the top of Laura’s foot, around the edge of her pumps, and the quivering was punctuated with a rough tremble.

She raised herself up, placed one hand behind Laura’s calf to lift her leg, used the other to slide off her shoe, set it carefully to the side. Repeated the process with the other leg, the other shoe, watching Laura replant herself, inches shorter.

Her hands were hovering gentle as she removed Laura’s stockings; mindful of the fragility of the fabric, mindful of the difficulty of obtaining a replacement pair. Laura reached a hand down to Kara’s shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of them, a hand that remained in place while Kara gingerly placed the stockings by her shoes, losing its grip when Kara leaned down suddenly to swipe a broad lick along the length of Laura’s leg from ankle to hip.

And then Laura’s hands were both on her shoulders, clinging, and she may have managed to catch her breath for a moment but now she was panting, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall.

Kara hardly needed encouragement to continue lavishing Laura’s legs with attention, but if she had, Laura’s reaction would have been ample. Once more she leaned down, favored the other side of the same leg with a similar swipe. And again, toward the front this time, and again, a bit to the left … and then, of course, there was a whole other leg that couldn’t simply be ignored.

Laura had been quivering. Now she was shaking. On Kara’s final lick she did not stop at the top of Laura’s thigh; she leaned to the side, pressed her tongue against Laura’s clit through her panties, pressed it there and stayed, unmoving, her tongue teasing as her hand had earlier, giving pressure and nothing more. The moan that tore from Laura’s throat was sudden and ragged, and Laura’s panties were soaked through as she rubbed frantically against Kara’s face, and for a moment Kara allowed it, growled at Laura’s scent before pulling back, swallowing hard at the desperate tone of Laura’s protesting cry.

“Kara, please … “

“Please what?”

“Please … lick me, even if it’s just to tease me.” She raised a hand, whispered delicate fingers across Kara’s cheek. “Please.”

Kara could not begin to comprehend the amount of willpower she would have needed to deny such a request. Immediately her hands were at the edge of Laura’s panties, pulling them down. Laura leaned on Kara’s shoulders as she stepped out of them, bit her lip and whimpered as Kara planted firm hands on her hips, steadying her against the wall.

The angle wasn’t perfect, but Kara wanted Laura standing; wanted to feel the quaking of her legs, the buckling of her knees. Wanted her hands on Laura’s hips and Laura’s hands on her shoulders to be all that was keeping her upright. The angle wasn’t perfect, but Kara was limber, versatile.

Kara’s tongue was quick at first, finding Laura’s clit and circling it without hesitation. Laura’s breathing was rapid, her exhalations noisy, and it took very little to bring her to the edge, her weight bearing down on Kara’s shoulders, the tremors in her hips only dampened by Kara’s grip.

And then her eyes were closed and she was clenching her jaw; bracing herself, Kara supposed, for the inevitable retreat. When Kara drew back – gradually, circles widening, nibbling at Laura’s lips, dropping kisses along her thighs – Laura expressed no surprise, but her moan was deeply satisfying. Pleasure and frustration mingled together, adoring as much as needing.

And this was how they moved. A rhythmic, fluid cycle of closer, to tautness and heaving, closer, the majority of Laura’s weight against Kara, closer, until she could almost feel the pressure in Laura’s body preparing to unwind, readying itself for a release that her mind would know better than to expect.

And then further, gently, slowly, easing off in stages, further as Laura’s breathing evened, further as she began to support her own weight, further, letting Laura cool down as much as she could before beginning the process anew.

Seven times Kara brought Laura to whisper’s range of climax without allowing her to claim it. Seven times Laura bore it; bore it with gritted teeth, bore it with clenched knuckles, bore it with cries almost feral in their forlorn euphoria.

After the seventh time, as Kara’s touch grew more gentle, more distant, it became clear that Laura could no longer be consoled. Her gasps would not slow, her whimpers would not calm, her hips would not still.

Kara stood. Took hold of Laura’s skirt, gathered inelegantly at her waist now. Pulled it down, carefully; smoothed it against Laura’s legs before unfastening it, letting it drop, letting Laura step out of it, kick it aside and turn to look at Kara with eyes helpless frantic.

Kara’s smile was calm, soothing. Her hands moved to Laura’s jacket, unfastened it, slid it over Laura’s shoulders. Raised to cup Laura’s breasts, rubbing them softly through the silky fabric, thumbs brushing against nipples causing a reaction of such sudden force that Kara’s arms quickly caught Laura around her waist, held her close, held her up.

A raw growl. “I can’t keep standing.”

“Of course not. Come here.” Kara walked her to the bed, gingerly, sat her down on the edge, sat at her side, brushed her fingers through her sweat-damp hair. “Better?”

The look she got in response might have been intimidating if it hadn’t been so profoundly frakking hot.

She smiled again, gleeful this time, letting Laura see exactly how deeply she was enjoying this. Her fingers were quick and precise as they opened and removed Laura’s shirt followed by her bra, carefully.

And that left only one thing. She watched Laura for a moment, watched her shoulders tremble, watched her eyes flicker, watched her fingers open and close restlessly against the sheets.

Lifted her hands to Laura’s glasses. Slid them off, folded them, placed them delicately to the side. Turned back to her stripped down lover.

It was then that Laura broke.

Her hands went to Kara’s, squeezing them fiercely as she spoke, words tumbling and frenetic.

“Please Kara, please now, you can’t get me much more naked than this. I feel like you could breathe on me and I’d come, I’m so close, please. I’ve waited so long. I need you to give it to me. Please.”

Kara twined her fingers with Laura’s, held her gaze, steady, unwavering, taking in every detail of Laura’s desperation. Raised one and then the other of Laura’s hands to her lips, kissing both softly before releasing them, taking hold of Laura’s shoulders, pushing her down toward the bed. Pushing for just an instant before Laura got the idea, scooted herself fully onto the mattress, laid herself out, thrust her arms toward Kara, reaching.

And Kara complied, crawling onto Laura and leaning down to kiss her, and Laura’s arms were tight and immediate around her, Laura’s legs wrapped snugly around her waist, Laura’s hips thrusting against her with a wantonness that matched the groans and growls she was spilling into Kara’s mouth with every breath.

Kara’s kiss would not be rushed by Laura’s frenzy. Kara’s mouth was slow and tender on Laura’s, kissing her as though this were the beginning of a seduction, as though the woman beneath her were not soaking and writhing and near delirious.

When she finally pulled back she hovered briefly, unable to resist one more look at Laura’s face, a look that was rewarded by Laura’s nails digging into her back, Laura’s voice forcing out a strangled croak of a plea.

She moved down Laura’s body, Laura’s legs unwinding, spreading, heels planting firmly against the mattress. And she began as though it were the first beginning of the evening, began with kisses and nibbles and teases, began in a way that turned Laura’s pleas to curses, curses chanted with the waning remainder of energy left after every pulling breath.

She began as she had the seven times previous, but this time did not end with frustration, with Laura clinging to control, forcing her body to bear the denial with grace.

This time ended with Laura arching so far off the bed that for a moment she appeared to be levitating. This time ended with Kara reaching up hurriedly to push three of her fingers into Laura’s mouth because the volume of Laura’s cry was rising steadily and did not give any signs that it would plateau before catching the attention of the whole of the ship. This time ended with Laura tangling her fingers in Kara’s hair and grinding Kara’s face ruthlessly, dripping and pulsing and hot, and Kara kept Laura going for as long as she could, kept Laura going through wave after wave of tremendous wracking spasms, through teeth clamped onto her fingers and hair pulled nearly out of her scalp and hips that didn’t care whether she could breathe and dear gods but nothing had ever been as incredible as this.

When it was over they both collapsed, panting and wheezing and limp. It was several moments before Kara managed to crawl up to Laura’s side, and Laura was still unmoving, but Laura was the first to speak.

“Your mouth,” she whispered raggedly, “is my favorite place.”

And with that Kara could not manage smugness. Had no words. Simply stared, wide open and bare. Stared at this woman, this woman stripped down, piece by piece, meticulously, a plan, an effort, an accomplishment, a ritual.

This woman who could do the same to her with a few casual words.

And then Laura was reaching out, one arm lazily draping across Kara’s shoulders, pulling her in.

“Rest with me.”

And she did.