Work Text:
Bobbie groaned as she rolled her neck. Despite all the training at 1 G, despite having been here for a few weeks already, for some reason it seemed that the gravity of Earth always got to her after a run, as if her spinal column was suddenly really annoyed with being compressed all the time. But being surrounded by nature, a breathable atmosphere, it was worth the little annoyances now and then. She still slammed the door the spacious house shut a little harder than necessary.
“Bad run?” A voice that never failed to elicit a reaction, greeted her and Bobbie smiled. Weekends were mostly optional for the woman running the planet and she had been gone by the time Bobbie had woken up that morning. She hadn’t expected her back any time before dinner. It was nice to have Chrisjen back while there was still light out.
Bobbie had a greeting ready when she entered the living room, but found that the words died on her tongue when she saw Chrisjen sitting on the couch, bare legs curled up underneath her, wearing apparently nothing but an oversized sweatshirt, the familiar MMC blazoned across her chest. Bobbie had expected to find her in one of her usual colorful saris, dripping in jewels, looking regal. This was a surprise that left her mouth dry. Chrisjen looked soft and casual, words that she very rarely associated with her.
“Is that my MMC sweatshirt?” she managed when her tongue could finally move again. It wasn’t fair that the Earther could knock her so off balance simply by dressing down and scrubbing her face clean of makeup. And of course, Chrisjen knew exactly the effect she had on Bobbie if that superior little smile was an indicator. Those dark eyes briefly looked down at the sweatshirt she was wearing and returned to Bobbie’s with a piercing intensity.
“It’s certainly not mine.” It had been stupid question anyway. Not too long ago, Bobbie suspected Chrisjen would rather be shot than be caught wearing anything Martian. That had been before she had taken a Martian to her bed though. Briefly she wondered what Chrisjen would do if an urgent call would come in. Would she allow some UN official to see her in that outfit? Bobbie already knew the answer. Chrisjen didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her and she’d probably like the idea of shocking some underling.
“Why are you wearing it?” She tried sound casual, but Bobbie was pretty sure she failed. To distract herself from the way Chrisjen was intently looking at her, she stretched her muscles before they completely cooled down, raising her arms above her head to work out the kinks in her back.
“It looked comfortable.” Chrisjen’s voice had taken on a tone that Bobbie had come to identify as aroused. The older woman was slowly raking her eyes over her body, over her mostly bare legs, the exposed skin of her stomach, the UNN logo stretched across her tits. She wasn’t being subtle at all and Bobbie grinned. At least they were somewhat in the same boat. Bobbie got turned on by Chrisjen stripped of all her riches, Chrisjen clearly had a thing for her in sweaty and in workout clothes. It was the simple things in life.
“Enjoying the view?” she asked, unable to keep the smugness out of her voice. It didn’t faze Chrisjen for a second. She had faced for more challenging things than a Martian marine calling out her obvious attraction.
“Immensely.” Bobbie would never understand how she managed to sound a single word so sexually charged. She could feel her body reacting, though by now she was almost certain that just hearing the older woman’s voice was enough to get her going. Dropping her arms back down, she gave up on stretching entirely. She was too keyed up anyway, her brain occupied with wholly different workout. “Did I say you could stop?”
Bobbie raised her eyebrows. Chrisjen wasn’t fucking around. “Are you going to order me around at the house as well now?”
“I am your boss and the fucking commander in chief of the navy whose top you’re currently wearing.” It was so quickly forgotten when they were outside of New York that Chrisjen was in charge of the planet, that she commanded the biggest fleet of the system, that she was, in fact, Bobbie’s boss as long as the Martian was a part of her security detail. In this house, she was usually just Chrisjen, a frustratingly stubborn woman who had somehow managed to steal a piece of Bobbie’s heart.
She looked every bit the part of the Secretary-General now, even wearing just an MMC sweatshirt. It was kind of amazing how easily she slipped that mask back on. Bobbie had stared down a protomolecule hybrid, she could deal with one small, but intimidating Indian woman. Using her height to her advantage, she closed the distance between the two of them until Chrisjen was forced to look up at her from her position on the couch.
“I rank higher in the MMC than you. Does that mean I can give you orders as well?”
“You can try.” That sounded like a challenge and Bobbie would hate to back down from a challenge. And ordering around the Secretary-General of Earth, well, that was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Leaning down, she placed her hands on the back of the couch, effectively trapping Chrisjen.
“Kiss me.” The corner of Chrisjen’s mouth twitched and Bobbie knew that she had done the right thing. For a moment there she had thought calling her bluff had been the wrong move. But then Chrisjen kissed her and she stopped thinking altogether. The effortless way their lips moved against each other, Chrisjen’s tongue in her mouth, the soft sounds she made in the back of her throat, it made Bobbie weak in the knees.
Bobbie could feel the older woman raising herself up on her knees, making it easier to kiss her. Long fingers slipped under the hem of Bobbie’s tanktop, caressing every inch of skin they could find and it took Bobbie’s brain a minute to realize she was supposed to giving order and she hadn’t given permission for that. Catching Chrisjen’s wrists, Bobbie removed her hands from her body and broke the kiss, keeping a tight hold on the slim wrists. “I didn’t say you could touch.”
Chrisjen pouted and she just looked too adorable, that bottom lip too inviting. Bobbie kissed her again, sucking that bottom lip into her mouth. A soft groan reached her ears and it took most of Bobbie’s willpower to not push the older woman down on the couch and fuck her until she was begging to the Martian to stop.
“Take off that sweatshirt.” Her hands were already underneath the familiar article of clothing, running over Chrisjen’s hips, the dip of her waist, her skin soft and warm.
“Do it yourself, since it’s yours.” Chrisjen raised her chin defiantly. Clearly, she was done obeying orders. A shame. Bobbie had rather liked the short moment Chrisjen had actually listened to her. There was a rush that came with ordering the Secretary-General around.
“If you had been on my team, I would have had you cleaning the head with a toothbrush for talking to a superior officer that way.” That or have them running laps at 1 G in their power armor until they couldn’t anymore, but the thought of Chrisjen in a Martian armor was too much, even for her, to try and imagine. Not that she could see the Earther cleaning anything, let alone a bathroom.
Chrisjen just smiled sweetly, the kind that wouldn’t even fool the dimmest of people, as she wrapped her arms around Bobbie’s neck. “May I remind you that you told the person two steps away from running Earth to ‘shut the fuck up’?”
Bobbie swallowed heavily as Chrisjen trailed her lips along her jaw, tongue teasingly flicking out against her earlobe. So maybe they both had a problem with authority, it only seemed to even out the playing field. They were both wearing each other colors anyway, in the privacy of Chrisjen’s home. What did it even matter who was in charge? At the moment, she just wanted the older woman. The feeling seemed mutual, if the way sharp teeth sinking into the tender skin of her throat were anything to go by.
“Call a truce?” Bobbie managed, her voice sounding different to her ears. Chrisjen chuckled and pulled back, desire written plain as day on her face, the same kind Bobbie was feeling. Almost instinctively, she tightened her grip on the smaller woman’s waist. The sharp exhale that followed almost floored Bobbie. It was probably unhealthy how much she wanted her. She didn’t give a flying fuck.
“For now.”