![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lanalucyPrompt: Kara/Cottle - orgasm as a treatment
She winced. Another surgery. If it hadn’t gone well, she’d never fly again this time. She moved her leg and the pain spiked. She couldn’t stop the cry that escaped from her lips. Seconds later, the curtain swished aside and she heard Cottle’s gruff voice, “How bad is the pain, Thrace?”
Her face screwed up in protest. It took her a moment, but finally, she said, “Bad, Doc.”
“You frakked it up good this time.” His fingers pressed here and there as he gauged her reactions.
Her vision was still blurry, so she closed her eyes. Gods. So much better when the lights are off.
Cottle pulled the blanket aside, pushed the side of the gown up, poked at her belly. “Any pain in your abdomen, Thrace?”
She shook her head.
He pulled her gown back down, but instead of replacing the blanket, his warm palm grasped her thigh, pulling it toward him. His fingers probed between her legs, and for a moment, she was so shocked, she thought she was imagining the whole thing, then, “What the frak?”
“Pain management, Thrace. We’re out of pain meds, even the piddly stuff. This works for most people, creates endorphins, gives the brain something else to focus on.” He stopped moving. “You want me to get Ishay in here to do it?”
“Oh my gods. Your staff is doing this, too?”
“That’s what out of pain meds means, Thrace. I can leave you alone if you’d rather.”
Oh my frakking gods. She put her arms over her face and gritted out, “Just get it over with, Doc.”
Being a doctor, at least he knew where everything was. She focused on pretending it was somebody else - anybody else! - bit her lip, and hoped she didn’t blush when her climax washed over her. She sighed in relief. It wasn’t the best orgasm she’d ever had, but it took the edge off the pain.
Now he did pat the blanket back over her legs. He cleared his throat. “Better?”
What the frak was she supposed to say? “Uh, yes. Thank you?” She lay there a moment more, listening for the sound of the curtain closing. When she heard nothing, she asked from beneath her arms, “Now that I’m awake, can I use my hands?”
“Of course. You won’t be walking for a bit, but you can play cards or do paperwork.”
“Wasn’t what I was thinkin’, Doc. I’ll be handling my own pain management from now on.”
His laugh was raspy. “Thank gods.”
“Please go away now.”
“I’ll mark your chart, Thrace.” The curtain swished aside and his footsteps faded.
Kara pulled the pillow out from under her head and put it over her face until the heat under her skin faded. She was never getting hurt again.
One Too Many
Prompt: Kara/Bill - drunken mistake
It had been Zak’s birthday, the first one she’d spent on Galactica after Zak died. Colonel Tigh was on Picon for R&R. If he’d been aboard, it would probably never have happened.
She and the Old Man had been swapping stories about Zak over dinner, and they’d finished the bottle of ambrosia - a drink or two apiece. He’d dug around in the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of the good stuff, stuff he’d been saving for a special occasion he said, and she had no idea how much of that they’d drunk. Actually, she had no idea how any of the rest of it had happened.
They were both sloppy drunk, she was pretty sure, and she’d been about ready to go - the alternative would have been passing out on her dinner plate. He’d stumble-walked her toward the hatch, and she’d turned to hug him. Nowadays, when she hugged him, she was careful, but that time...she’d stood on her toes and pulled up on his shoulders to kiss his cheek. He’d hugged her around the waist with his chin on her shoulder. He’d turned his head, and that...that’s when things changed.
He kissed her neck. And since she had, in fact, not gotten laid since Zak died, it felt really frakkin’ good. She heard the moan, and if she were less drunk, she’d probably be embarrassed it was her.
His arms tightened, one hand on her hip and one on her ass. Strong grip, like Zak. It felt too much like Zak, too normal for her to waste much time reminding herself it was his father, not him.
He sort of fell toward the hatch, trapping her, and his erection caught her just right, the pressure punching up her arousal enough to mostly turn off her brain. She pushed him away, and he backstepped toward the table. He leaned against it for a moment, then turned her and boosted her up onto it.
Clearly, he’d done this before, because while she was still muttering in her head about Adamas and their preference for tables, he pulled her pants off and yanked her to the edge. The first stroke was achingly familiar - he seemed confident and sure, like Zak always had. The groan as he sank into her sounded eerily like Zak.
Should she try to stay in the moment, or pretend he was Zak so later she could forget this had happened? His fingers found her clit and the fast and furious rush toward orgasm overrode that question, and everything else.
After, she laid on that table, heart pounding against his, wondering what the frak had just happened. He zipped his pants and scooped her up, dropping onto the couch with her half-naked on his lap. He kept saying something, and at first she thought it was ‘Kara,’ but then maybe ‘Caroline’ or ‘Carol Anne?’ Frak. What had Zak said his mother’s name was?
Moments later, his breathing deepened into a regular rhythm, and his arms fell away from her. She very carefully crawled off his lap and found her pants. Frak. What had he done with her panties? Never mind. She hurriedly put her pants on commando. She pushed him gently toward the arm of the couch and covered him with the blanket.
Once that was done, she went into the head to make sure she didn’t look like she’d just been frakked senseless by the Commander, stacked the dishes outside the door, and turned off most of the lights. She still couldn’t find her panties, but there was nothing she could do about that. One last look around and she left, pulling the hatch shut behind her.
She had hit her locker for her kit, showered in the hottest water she could stand, and crawled into her bunk with a bottle. She’d drunk until she passed out, and was still hung over at the briefing the following morning. Dipper’d given her a stern glare, taking her aside after the briefing to tell her she should confine the heavy drinking to nights when she didn’t have an early CAP.
She worked and flew and fought with Tigh, and managed to wipe the night from her memory, just another drunken mistake. Out of the blue, two or three months later, her laundry came back with an extra pair of panties, and she had to think much too hard to remember where they’d come from. She requested R&R, and while she was gone, she frakked a different guy every night, none of them even remotely like either Adama. And when she returned to duty, she made sure she never went more than a week without getting laid.
That drunken mistake was one too many.
