Steam
by ALC Punk!

The mental images that crowd her over-worked mind are delicious and make her skin itch. She wants... a lot of things, but at the top of the list, she wants to be Starbuck. To be in the middle as Dee said.

Unfortunately, Cally is perfectly aware that she is nothing more than a mechanic, and a mouse, at that. The pilots aren't going to look at her twice.

She's almost surprised she runs into Dee hours later, getting to the shower. The room is almost empty, one of the other communications technicians finishing his shower. He ignores them as they set down their towels and changes of clothing.

They strip in almost-companionable silence.

The technician finishes and brushes by them wrapping his towel perfunctorily before exiting the room. The hatch sounds loud when it shuts.

Cally is uncomfortably aware that her mental ruminations have left her aching for something she really can't have. As much as she'd be embarrassed about it later, she almost wishes the room were empty so she could finish what has started. But being caught wanking isn't high on her list of priorities, so she ignores the wetness between her thighs and stands under water that is too-hot.

"Hey." Dee's voice breaks the monotonous sound of water and feet slapping on tile.

It makes her jerk slightly, and she glances over her shoulder. "What?"

"I was... Do you mind if I..." Dee's hand slides across her chest, and she looks down at the pebbling nipples, her expression almost abstract. "Normally, I'd wait. But Billy won't be around for days, and my suitemates are light sleepers."

The request leaves her speechless for a moment as she works it out, then she flushes and realizes she's broken rule number one. Don't stare, it isn't polite. Cally bets Starbuck stares when and where she wants to. "I -- no. I mean..."

Into the awkward silence, Dee sighs, "Thank you."

Cally can't tear her eyes away as the darker woman leans back against the tile, legs spread, hands trailing across her skin lazily. The soap remains in her hand forgotten as Dualla's left hand slides between her legs and she strokes herself.

The soft whimper isn't Dee's.

Startled brown eyes open, and the two women stare at each other for a moment. Cally feels confusion at the burning need she feels. "I--"

"It's just sex." Dee says, "Just a release of tension, Cally."

And Cally can't help but lick her lips and nod. "Please."

She hadn't even realized there was a question.

Closing the distance between them, Dee removes the soap from her hand and sets it aside, then cups her face and leans in, kissing her.

Dualla's lips are gentle, teasing against hers and then more insistent. One of them shifts, and they brush against each other. Hip to hip, breasts, arms, suddenly they're tangled together. Cally can't help the whimper that exits her mouth and is swallowed up by Dee as the other woman runs her fingers down her back.

It takes her only a little time to feel her way around Dee's arms and back and bring one hand up to fondle her breasts. The nipples are different than her own, but she doesn't take time to sort it out as she rolls them gently until Dee murmurs a request, and her fingers tighten, pinching them. Dee's leg slides between hers, and Cally drops her hand to it, sliding up until she encounters the other woman's hip, drifting around and delving between her legs.

She knows what works on herself, she knows (somewhat) what works on men. She's surprised at how easy it is to make the other woman gasp, fingers slipping and sliding and finally thrusting until Dee is crying out, her face buried in Cally's neck.

Holding her as she rides out the orgasm, Cally suddenly wonders if this was what they felt with Starbuck between them. Heat flashes through her skin, and she shivers, realizing she's rubbing herself against Dee's thigh.

Before she can feel embarrassed, Dee's hands shift their hold, and Cally finds herself being expertly manipulated as lips and teeth and tongue attack the skin of her throat and shoulders.

A whimper escapes her when the first finger slides in. She leans her head against the tiles and closes her eyes, her world narrowing in focus until there's nothing but the fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. And if she imagines that it's him and not her tormenting her, she doesn't think that's wrong.

It's the last thought, the mental image of being caught between him and the wall, his mouth on her nipples, his fingers buried inside of her while stubble scrapes her skin that sends her over the edge.

She bites on the palm of her hand to stifle her cries as she writhes underneath the shower head.

Dee's head returns to leaning against her shoulder, and they stand there, both panting. Their showers are both still going, steam filling the space with a strange dreamlike quality.

"Thank you."

"I..." Cally turns and kisses the other woman's cheek before dropping her arms from around her.

Dee steps back and gives her a strange smile. "Glad to be of service."

"Thank you."

There's little time left on their shower allowances, but they make the best of it, quickly lathering and rinsing. Cally ends first, and she enjoys the last precious seconds of hot water on her lax muscles before it switches off.

In silence they towel dry and dress.

Dee is faster, her fingers nimble as she zips and ties and pulls. She goes to leave, then stops and turns at the door. "If you ever want to relieve tension again. Let me know."

Sure her cheeks are permanently red (and not just from mortification), Cally nods. "All right."

"Good." And Dee is gone out the hatch, shutting it with a jaunty click.

Cally stands there for a while, deciphering everything that happened. And decides, as she ties her hair up, that tension relief isn't a half-bad excuse. Maybe she'll use it on him one of these days.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!