Written for a friend, she gave the topic, I wrote
It was just past 0200 and she still couldn’t sleep. The rhythmic footfalls on the deck were doing nothing to ease the restless energy that was keeping her awake. She had hoped going for a run would be enough to be able to achieve even a restless sleep; after all it had worked many times before in the past weeks. This time, however, it wasn't nightmares that were keeping her awake. It was anticipation.
After over a year out of the cockpit, tomorrow she was back in the cockpit. Mid day CAP… It had been far too long, much longer than she would have liked. So damned much had happened. Most of which she would rather forget. Feelings, emotions she shouldn’t have had… still shouldn’t have. She shook her head. This was not going to help her present sleepless situation, and if she didn't sleep soon, Cottle wouldn’t give her the clearance come morning.
Kara needed to do something, and she needed to do it now. Maybe, just maybe a trip down to the flight deck would help. She'd spent many nights down there in the past, if it had worked before why not this time? She asked herself, knowing that the true answer was she was just too wound up to wait till morning. Altering her route she pushed on towards the hanger deck, jogging along the high causeway, the vipers lined up in their bays below. Her eyes lit up as she approached bay 14 on Deck C… There, right where it should be, in her preferred spot, looking sleek and strong. Her viper… She couldn’t see the name plate, but she could see the tail number.
Twenty three steps, one turn and down a half flight of stairs and she was standing just off the shoulder of its wing, halfway to the deck. The feral grin on her face was evident even to her as she took in the nameplate, every detail as it should be. It looked as though it had been just recently done, prepared just for her return. She should have known though, the chief had said he would look out for her… and making her bird stand out like it was new off the line was just his way of doing it. She stepped over the rail, one foot briefly touching the wing as she climbed into the cockpit.
Sinking down into the seat of the Mark VII felt… Gods it was hard to even put a description on it. The foam of the seat had just the right give, designed to protect back and neck from the effects of a high G launch, it had a tendency to sink just a little when not in the air, the soft leather cupping the body like a gentle embrace.
She closed her eyes and ran her hand over the console, remembering, knowing what each button was for, as well as just how hard you needed to push each one, and when… Her hand ghosted over the controls, seeking out the startup sequence, not pressing but just hovering. She could almost feel the vibrations as she recalled the feel of the Dual Voram engines coming to life, the high Voram kicking in seconds later. The intense power at her fingertips… Her hand instinctively shifted to the flight stick, closing around the perfectly formed base, fingers relaxed against the controls.
In her mind she ran over dogfight after dogfight, the feel of pushing this magnificent creature to its limits… every shake and pull brought on by high G maneuvers… her first thought was that it was better than sex… followed by her body responding with a very clear 'Yeah could use some of that too…' A smirk played across her lips. It wouldn’t be the first time… and just maybe it would wind her down enough to let her sleep. A glance around told her this end of the deck was empty… third shift was working at the far end on rebuilding another viper…. Closing her eyes she sunk back into the chair, the hand not on the controls coming up to brush over her breast, lightly squeezing, her thumb brushing over the nipple, already hard from the slight chill in the air. She let her fingers trace light circles around the nipple, brushing across every so often, drawing out the sensation… just like the controls of the viper, she knew all the right places, the right sequence… she relinquished her hold on the flight stick and brought her other hand up to her other breast, mirroring the actions. Slow, light touches, over and over… hands gently squeezing….mmmm yes… that was definitely the startup sequence…. She could feel the heat coiling in her, thighs aching, begging for contact… not yet...
Hands sliding down ver her stomach, she fond the hem of her shirt, slipping one hand beneath, sliding further up, pushing her bra up over the top of her breast, half exposing her to anyone who might have been passing on the catwalk overhead. She didn't care… all that mattered was that her thumb and forefinger found the nipple, pinching lightly.
Her breath was already rapid, heavy, punctuated by soft whimpers as she let herself get lost in the sensation… She'd never done anything halfway… pleasuring herself was no exception… she always drew it out to its fullest.
The hand at the hem of her shirt slipped lower, brushing over her thigh, teasing, taunting, the ache becoming near unbearable as it shifted between slightly parted thighs, brushing back and forth over the fabric of her shorts that kept eager fingers from pushing into her. Instead she continued to stroke over the material, lightly squeezing the mound of flesh, palm pushing hard against her clothed crotch, building the tension higher and higher until she could feel the damp head through the fabric. Definitely time…
She brought the hand up as her other pushed the other side of her bra up, fully exposing her chest as she turned attentions to the other breast. Finding the waistband of her running shorts she slipped her hand beneath, fingers seeking out the heat like missiles, rocketing straight to her core. She shifted, sinking lower to let her knees fall open, two fingers locking on, sinking in… the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb settling against her clit, each movement brushing it just enough…
Hips bucked lightly against her hand, breathing hard…. The sound of metal banging on metal down the deck masking the throaty moans, body sweat slick and trembling, she pushed on. Just a little more… the ache turning to a pulse… a burn… threatening to sear her alive from the inside out. She could almost see spots behind her eyes, a sensation so close to G-LOC… and she broke, biting back a scream, so intense she bit into her lip, breaking the skin.
She was still a moment, chest heaving to catch her breath as she straightened her clothes. It was a few moments before she could move. She knew she needed to get up and go now, sleep already threatening to carry her away. It took every effort she cold muster to haul herself up out of the cockpit and make her way back up the stairs to the catwalk. Continuing to the nearest hatch she glanced back, just able to see the nose of her bird before disappearing through the hatch. Maybe it wasn't so crazy for her to love a machine after all…
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