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true_writers] 20.A.2 - Help Me Make It Through The Night
Oct. 29th, 2008 01:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arrow_of_apollo20.A.2 - "Help Me Make It Through The Night" Lyrics
I don't care what's right or wrong,
I don't try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow.
Lord, tonight I need a friend.
I was married, at least legally, if not in fact, to a wonderful woman I'd always known was way too good for me and definitely way too good to me, not with how badly I'd always done by her. She was married in every possible way, to a man I called my friend and who was probably respected by the crew of Galactica just a little bit less than the Admiral.
She had a child with her husband, a beautiful baby girl who meant more to her than the entire human race. I had no kids, but I had responsibility over every man and woman that flew a Colonial spacecraft.
I didn't love her, and she didn't love me. Hell, I'm not even sure if we like each other at all.
There was nothing right about any of it... except for the way it made me feel.
It was a maintenance room, in the aft section of the ship's flight pod that had never been completely restored to working order. Crews came through every couple of weeks to do a little more work, but the constant state of alert made continuous efforts impossible. Nine times out of ten, if you thought to come down here, it would be deserted. Nobody had quite found this one yet before I did, which made it mine.
She was the one who slammed the hatch shut behind us and spun the wheel to lock it as if the whole thing weighed nothing. She had the look on her face that made it clear there weren't going to be any words exchanged this time, not even angry, hateful or guilty ones.
That was fine with me. I reached out, grabbing her by the back of the head and pulled her to me, crushing my mouth against hers so hard I was sure one of us would bruise. It didn't matter.
She took a fistful of my flight suit in one hand and used the other to drag down the zipper. She could have torn the thing apart with Cylon strength, but that raised too many questions. Instead, she began to tug and pull and push the metallic fabric down. While I paused in between biting her lower lip and shook my hands free of the sleeves, she reached her hand into my boxers and began to stroke me hard.
I had just as little trouble with her fatigues, shoving the pants off her slender hips and the ugly black trunks down with them. My fingers pushed between her legs, and I felt her moan into my mouth, which was just as much an answer to the noises I was making back.
She was wet-- soaking wet, and truth be told, she hadn't needed to get her hand on me, because I'd been thinking about this since I'd finished CAP and was hard as steel. With a grunt, she pushed back from me, pulling my lip tight with her teeth before turning around. She slammed her hands down on a workbench and looked me over her shoulder.
I knew what it meant. I knew that when she just wanted to feel it, just wanted to frak as hard and fast as we could, that was how we did it. I was fine with that, too, because it let me take out more on her than just lust. I stood behind her, aimed a moment, then slammed myself into her.
She didn't make more than a grunt of noise, but I'm sure the metal table was curling under her grip.
I wasted no time, putting my hands on her shoulders and using the leverage to pound her furiously, over and over.
She shook with a climax, and instead of slowing, started to push herself back against me, meeting my strokes and tightening down painfully around me.
I lifted a hand from her shoulder and took her hair in my fist. My hips ached from the repeated impacts, but I could feel my own orgasm building up.
She shuddered, coming again. Something possessed her to pull herself off of me, spin in place and drop to her knees.
I shouted when she pulled me into her mouth, tight, wet and hot. I came, my body shaking now.
She swallowed it all, wiped her mouth, then stood.
She pulled on her clothes.
I did the same.
She opened the hatch and without a look back, disappeared.
I waited three minutes, then did the same.
I needed what she had, she needed what I had, and I guess neither of us needed what neither of us could give.
And I should care about that.
But I don't.
(777, not including lyrics)
I don't care what's right or wrong,
I don't try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow.
Lord, tonight I need a friend.
I was married, at least legally, if not in fact, to a wonderful woman I'd always known was way too good for me and definitely way too good to me, not with how badly I'd always done by her. She was married in every possible way, to a man I called my friend and who was probably respected by the crew of Galactica just a little bit less than the Admiral.
She had a child with her husband, a beautiful baby girl who meant more to her than the entire human race. I had no kids, but I had responsibility over every man and woman that flew a Colonial spacecraft.
I didn't love her, and she didn't love me. Hell, I'm not even sure if we like each other at all.
There was nothing right about any of it... except for the way it made me feel.
It was a maintenance room, in the aft section of the ship's flight pod that had never been completely restored to working order. Crews came through every couple of weeks to do a little more work, but the constant state of alert made continuous efforts impossible. Nine times out of ten, if you thought to come down here, it would be deserted. Nobody had quite found this one yet before I did, which made it mine.
She was the one who slammed the hatch shut behind us and spun the wheel to lock it as if the whole thing weighed nothing. She had the look on her face that made it clear there weren't going to be any words exchanged this time, not even angry, hateful or guilty ones.
That was fine with me. I reached out, grabbing her by the back of the head and pulled her to me, crushing my mouth against hers so hard I was sure one of us would bruise. It didn't matter.
She took a fistful of my flight suit in one hand and used the other to drag down the zipper. She could have torn the thing apart with Cylon strength, but that raised too many questions. Instead, she began to tug and pull and push the metallic fabric down. While I paused in between biting her lower lip and shook my hands free of the sleeves, she reached her hand into my boxers and began to stroke me hard.
I had just as little trouble with her fatigues, shoving the pants off her slender hips and the ugly black trunks down with them. My fingers pushed between her legs, and I felt her moan into my mouth, which was just as much an answer to the noises I was making back.
She was wet-- soaking wet, and truth be told, she hadn't needed to get her hand on me, because I'd been thinking about this since I'd finished CAP and was hard as steel. With a grunt, she pushed back from me, pulling my lip tight with her teeth before turning around. She slammed her hands down on a workbench and looked me over her shoulder.
I knew what it meant. I knew that when she just wanted to feel it, just wanted to frak as hard and fast as we could, that was how we did it. I was fine with that, too, because it let me take out more on her than just lust. I stood behind her, aimed a moment, then slammed myself into her.
She didn't make more than a grunt of noise, but I'm sure the metal table was curling under her grip.
I wasted no time, putting my hands on her shoulders and using the leverage to pound her furiously, over and over.
She shook with a climax, and instead of slowing, started to push herself back against me, meeting my strokes and tightening down painfully around me.
I lifted a hand from her shoulder and took her hair in my fist. My hips ached from the repeated impacts, but I could feel my own orgasm building up.
She shuddered, coming again. Something possessed her to pull herself off of me, spin in place and drop to her knees.
I shouted when she pulled me into her mouth, tight, wet and hot. I came, my body shaking now.
She swallowed it all, wiped her mouth, then stood.
She pulled on her clothes.
I did the same.
She opened the hatch and without a look back, disappeared.
I waited three minutes, then did the same.
I needed what she had, she needed what I had, and I guess neither of us needed what neither of us could give.
And I should care about that.
But I don't.
(777, not including lyrics)
