ladycallie | Farscape fics for sugargroupie (Reply)

I finished my first ficathon! My recipient for

kazbaby 's 'Disnery on Acid- Farscape Potluck Ficathon' was

sugargroupie , and I remixed her story Bleedback, which is magnisifcent.

Since I didn't fill her request of 1) Aeryn and Chiana genfic, post S1; 2)John/Aeryn S4 angst where they are both idiots (porn may be included); 3)Chiana, Aeryn and John have an adventure, I included a bonus wall porn fic.

Thank you to

lyricalviolet for her beta work on both stories, and to

birgitm for further convincing me that I could indeed write hot sex. Or is that sex on a hot platter? ; )

Enjoy.

Title: Rain City
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Up to Terra Firma.

Summary: She'd had several cycles to learn.

Length: 507 words

Tumbling down
The rain comes down like a victory
In sheets of shining memory
-Turin Brakes, Rain City

Aeryn came in to consciousness slowly, awareness bubbling up from the warm recesses of sleep to peer over the edge at reality. She rolled on her side, her cheek against her pillow, one arm tucked beneath her head. Her fingertips were on the butt of her pistol, her other hand pressed against her breast. She breathed lightly, listening.

The low hum of the air conditioner and the distant swoosh of motor vehicles were similar enough to sounds on Moya. A clock ticked steadily in the hall outside her room; the soft, rhythmic patter of rainfall dulling the sharp edge of the repeated tick tock.

Rain. She sat up, long legs sliding out of the sheets. Rising, she crossed the room to the large double doors leading to a private patio. Glancing only briefly, she slid the lock back and opened both doors. Warm, wet, rain smell rushed in, coating her senses as she breathed deeply. The sky was dark; the low clouds were tinged a faded, dingy orange from the city lights and air debris. Aeryn watched the storm intently, her tank and shorts wet, her long hair sticking to her neck and shoulders.

She closed her eyes, and sighed. The rain tasted different now. If she’d had to describe it, she’d have said it was heavier, still sharp with the flavor of grass and pollution, but with a darker undertone—woodier, and a hint of spice. It brought back a myriad of memories, and Aeryn was tired of thinking.

She settled into a hard backed chair, legs drawn up on another. Her belly warmed, and she flexed her neck, tension already starting to creep up her spine. Licking her lips, she slid her hand under the wet waistband of her shorts. Her fingers brushed over the short patch of curls and traced the outer edge of her clit. The tiny bundle on nerves responded eagerly; she shifted, and dipped the middle finger of her other hand into a pool of warmth. Her head tilted back, resting on the back of the chair, eyes open, but unfocused. Steadily, she built her climax. She’d had several cycles to learn exactly how to press and stroke and find that moment when thought stopped, and she felt everything and nothing— like when flying, when the rush of gravity pressed her hard against her seat as she accelerated after a target. The rush of the chase, the thrill of winning.

She waited for that moment, sliding down till her ass was on the edge of her seat. Her toes curled, calves tight, shoulders drawn back. The sky growled, thunder covering her cry as she let go, and dropped, g-forces slamming her a back, breasts high and wet with rain.

Satisfied, she stumbled inside, peeling off her soaking clothes and slid into bed. She rolled onto her belly and slept deeply, memories of a man and a different Earth washed away with the rain.

Title: Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: None really.

Summary: She didn’t notice the blood.
Length: 262 words

When she found him, she’d been limping for about an arn and couldn’t hear anything with her right ear. The final guard jerked, eyes wide and jaw sagging as she cleanly broke his neck. His knife cut her forearm as his body fell, fingers still clutching the blade. She didn’t notice the blood. All she saw was John.

His lips found her fingers as she tore the adhesive tape away from his mouth. Three simple flicks and the cold metal that had held his arms and ankles clattered to the floor. Instantly his hands were on her, smearing the drying blood on her face, catching the tangles in her hair.

He caught her eyes, wormhole deep and fever bright in the dirty light seeping in from the corridor. He kissed her hard. She surged against him, reaching under his shirt and unzipping him. Her other hand struggled with her fastenings, and she growled her agitation into his mouth. He purred back to her, and shoved her hand away. He slipped into her leathers and inside her in one motion.

Aeryn’s knees bucked with the force of her first orgasm and together they slid to the floor. She held his cock firmly, her head arching back as he filled her. He suckled on her neck, then blew hot breath across her skin. She grunted, clutching his shoulders, the cut on her arm dripping onto his chest.

They frelled each other in the dark, bodies slick with lust and sweat and blood that was mostly theirs, a red puddle growing on the dirty floor.