DISCLAIMER: Battlestar Galactica is the property of Glen A. Larson, Sci-Fi Channel, R & D TV, Sky and NBC Universal. Farscape belongs to David Kemper et al.
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The tall blonde's hand closed over Chiana's. "Mine, I think."
"Sorry misunderstanding, I'll " Chiana murmured, ducking her head, twisting away. The purse hadn't been that heavy. There were better marks in the crowded street. Market days were the same the universe over. The grip did not loosen.
"I don't know your species you are "
"Nebari we're not from round here." Chiana realised when she turned that her face was level with the other woman's breasts. She licked her lips.
"Your colouring is unusual." The woman's grip on her altered. Long fingers caressed Chiana's wrist across the pulsepoint. Her other hand reached out to touch Chiana's throat under her chin, lifting her head. Silver/black eyes stared into brown. "Does it "
"All the way " Chiana grinned. She wriggled slowly, pressing herself against her captor. "If you want we could "
"Come." The tall blonde looked puzzled as Chiana sniggered. Chiana realised that this wasn't one of the humans that Crichton had got so excited about when they had landed on this scrubby cold backwater planet, this must be one of the `master race' as he had called them, the machine people - Cylons. She was about to frell/be frelled by one of the bad guys.
Blondie didn't look so tough.
They were behind the tents, in a dark alley. Chiana on her knees, the Cylon's hands woven in her hair. Blondie didn't taste like a machine. Her whimpers and strangled pleas sounded human enough. And after the sweetness of her honey, the salt tears Chiana tasted on her cheek seemed all too human. She still took the purse.
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