Blast Furnace

Sex and Violence, Not Necessarily In That Order – 1/1 (Garibaldi/Lochley)

May 12th, 2008 | →

“Sex and Violence, Not Necessarily In That Order”
A Babylon 5 Story
Erotica: Garibaldi/Lochley
Copyright (C) 1998 by A. Manley Haight
A Blast Furnace Production

This story is not in any way intended to infringe on copyrights held by J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions Inc., or AOL Time Warner. This story may be distributed only with prior permission of the author, and may not be posted to any archive, ftp site, or web page without the written permission of the author. This story is distributed for the individual personal entertainment of persons over 21, and is not subject to purchase or sale by anyone.

Disclaimer: Lise Edgars and Garibaldi are not an item.

One of the B5 lists I used to sub to had an endless discussion about the sexual tension between Lochley and Garibaldi. I wrote this to shut them up.

---

“Mr. Garibaldi.”

“Captain,” was the terse, flat-eyed reply. He just sat there, looking at her for a long moment. She was looking at him first of course, and to be truthful, he wasn’t just sitting there. He was leaning forward slightly, slowly curling in one hand what her eyes told her was a fifty pound weight.

“Is it my imagination or are you in the officer’s gym?” Lochley hadn’t liked this man very much from day one, for loads of reasons beyond his insolence. Garibaldi looked up at her, his gray T-shirt conforming tightly to his upper body. His biceps bulged impressively with each curl — he had not stopped his exercise. God damn, he had the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. They were like knives.

“I didn’t think Earthforce captains were prone to flights of imagination,” Garibaldi replied. “Delusions of grandeur maybe. And you get a special class at officer training school on How To Crawl Up Somebody’s Ass. Or so I’m told.”

“This gym is for Earthforce officer staff only,” Lochley said, “and frankly I’m getting a little tired of reminding you that you don’t work for Earthforce anymore.” The blue eyes razored into her, the man’s expression oddly neutral in spite of giving the impression of leashed violence.

“The President thought it was only fair that New Alliance personnel of rank should be allowed the use of the officer’s gym,” Garibaldi replied, “seeing as how we haven’t been able to get a building permit for the New Alliance officer’s gym and Gray Sector is just a little too close to the fusion reactor for anyone’s taste. Unless something opens up in Blue Ten I’d say we’re stuck with each other. Paperwork’s on your desk but if you insist you’ll have to throw my butt outta here yourself. Captain.”

It was his tone that was maddening. Arrogant because he knew he didn’t have to suck up to her or even follow her orders if he didn’t feel like it. Arrogant and smug. Oh, how he looked like he relished that smugness, like it was his favorite food and a warm fuck all rolled into one.

“You know something, Mr. Garibaldi,” Lochley said finally, standing there with her arms folded over her regulation workout gi. “I think I’m finally sick and tired of your mouth. We’re in a gym.” She gestured broadly. “And we’re even dressed for it. Why don’t we just have it out right here and get it over with?”

Garibaldi put the free weight down on the rack next to him with a hard clank, then looked at her speculatively.

“‘Scuse me?” he said.

“You heard me. You’ve been wanting to take a piece out of my hide from the first moment we met, and I’ve been dying to sock you in the mouth a second time. You’re not under my command. So come on, let’s duke it out instead of dancing around the issue. You got a problem with that, Garibaldi?”

Garibaldi stood up slowly, making his height fully apparent for the first time in their conversation. He cracked his knuckles one at a time.

“Nope. Hope you don’t think I’m going to go easy on you.”

“The last man who said that to me couldn’t sit down for three days,” Lochley said archly. That brought a grin from Garibaldi — a vicious, taunting expression. He walked away from her, onto the open floor, stretching carefully but keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He underwent a transformation right before her eyes, his smug restraint vanishing in the burning flame of a hunger to lash out at her in exactly the way she ached to teach him a lesson about why Thou Shalt Not Piss Off the Captain.

She was wary as she moved onto the mat with him. She was sharing the room suddenly with a fiery panther, the heated temper he kept bottled up most of the time showing through.

“You want a piece of me, Lochley?” he hissed, gesturing invitingly. “Huh? Come get some.”

He had reach on her, but she had speed. She had learned to take the fullest advantage of her stature by learning to kickbox, and intended to make him aware of that aspect of her training very shortly. This was probably immature in the extreme. At least, Sheridan would have thought so, and likely Ivanova, too.

But it had been a very long time since anybody had had the balls to fight Lochley in a grudge match, especially someone who looked like he could wipe the floor with her. It was a time-honored tradition in the Marines, she well knew, and she intended to prove to him that it was a time-honored tradition in her culture, as well, even though the Fleet services had long frowned on it. Marines never did know when to quit.

She had thought she would have the advantage of first strike while he tried to figure out how to approach her. She was wrong. His punch was like a hammer, but she had taken worse and from stronger men than Garibaldi. Surprised, she ducked to avoid his follow-up sweep and slammed a fist into his gut to knock the breath out of him. Then they went sprawling and she slipped out of his grasp to roll to her feet in time to take his hard rush to her midsection. They went down again with a yell of fury.

Ah, yes, a good old-fashioned brawl. She was enjoying herself now, wrestling him into holds that made even men like him growl in pain. He grew increasingly annoyed by her success at this, and finally managed to flip her hard onto her back in a fit of pique. She hit with a loud grunt to the sound of his snarl. She kicked him — he left himself wide open for it — and was rewarded by his round, savage cursing echoing off the gym walls.

There were, of course, other people in the gym. All activity but the fight between Captain Lochley and Sheridan’s Chief of Covert Operations had ceased, and a rapt audience was watching the display of raw, animal frenzy taking place in the center of the room. They were like wild lions fighting over some imagined slight, bloody and bruised after only a few minutes. Lochley was breathing hard to keep up with him — he seemed virtually inexhaustible. Sweat stained the collar and chest of his shirt darkly, his lip bloodied a couple of times already from her swift right hook. Damn, she punched like a pile driver. She could have given any of the gropos he knew a dental rearrangement in just a couple of minutes. And here she was, beating the tar out of him.

He laughed as they circled each other for a few heartbeats, and he had to rest his hands on his thighs for a moment. She was in little better shape. She was going to be sporting one hell of a shiner tomorrow, and he wouldn’t be too terribly surprised to see her walking funny, either. She’d taken the kick awfully well, he admitted with a certain amount of respect. Her hair was getting away from the tightly bound ponytail she’d arrived with, sweat matting it to her forehead. Her sharp, penetrating eyes looked like they wanted to rip his throat right out of his neck, and right now she was a far cry from the taut, hard-edged Captain who took every chance to give him a tongue-lashing. She was showing him her heart, the passion behind her command, the nameless force that drove her in every part of her life.

She was laughing, too, by the time they had taken so much out of each other that they could barely stand. She was bleeding onto the mat, a nasty cut over her eye dripping down the side of her face from one of his more brutal backhanded swings. She wiped the blood away every few seconds onto the sleeve of her gi, panting open-mouthed now.

“Had enough yet, Garibaldi?” she gasped. “Or do you want to wait until one of us is unconscious?”

“I don’t do that on the first date,” Garibaldi replied, breathing just as hard as she was. Sweat dripped from both of them, staining their clothes along with their smeared blood.

“Funny, I never thought you were the prudish type,” she shot back between heaving breaths.

“Well, if I’d known you were into the kinky stuff I would’ve brought my grandma’s old handcuffs,” Garibaldi teased with a growl. She took another swing at him as he finished the sentence, hoping to get him off-guard. It half-worked — he was extremely tired, and couldn’t completely avoid her fist. He tasted more blood as he straightened from the blow, licking his mouth.

“Just like a Marine to need some help in keeping it up,” she cackled tiredly. “What do you do, hook the other end on your dogtags?”

“At least mine reaches that far,” Garibaldi said. “You Fleeters have to wrap your ass around a ship to compensate for your lack of dick.”

Gender equality didn’t seem to matter much in the co-ed Earthforce military. The whole thing was still about who had balls and whose dick was the longest.

“And who rescues your sorry butt when you get your cajones blown off, eh?” she wondered grinning.

“Better to have had a dick and lost it than to never have had one at all. Oh, I’m sorry, you let them cut yours off when you submitted your papers to join the Fleet. My mistake.”

“Is that a pocketknife in your trousers or are you just happy to see me?” Lochley inquired sweetly.

“Awright, somebody’s gonna have to get unconscious before I kill ya,” Garibaldi promised in a growl.

“Only if I get to spank you with that piece of lumber you’ve got on your shoulder, there, Mikey,” Lochley laughed and lunged at him.

“Hey!” he roared after they went sprawling across the floor again and he had acquired a new bruise on his ribs. “Nobody calls me Mikey and gets away with it, dammit!”

They were panting too hard to talk by the time they discovered they couldn’t stand up anymore, and breathing too hard to do a proper job of anything even remotely resembling a fight. They were leaning on each other, Garibaldi’s hands on her shoulders, holding her up. Or was he holding himself up? He couldn’t tell. Lochley had both hands draped over his arms.

“You…are…so…fucked up,” Garibaldi gasped finally, licking blood from his mouth again.

“So…are you…Garibaldi,” Lochley said. “But I’m not…unconscious. S’gotta…count…for something.”

“You wanna…call it a…draw?” he wondered.

“Only if…you let me…leave here…without saying I took…advantage of you…in a…delicate state.”

“Deal.”

They helped each other up and limped out of the gym toward the showers.

---

Sheridan’s eyes widened the next time he saw Garibaldi.”What in the seven gates of Hell happened to you?” he asked, leaning to one side a little to get a better look at the savage bruise on Garibaldi’s face. It was not the only such mark he could see on the man’s face and neck. His Chief of Covert Operations was limping, too, he noted.

“Captain Lochley and I got into an argument yesterday about whose shampoo is better,” Garibaldi said deadpan. “Personally I think jojoba is way overrated.” Sheridan gave him his best ‘don’t start with me’ look and Garibaldi lifted his chin. “None of your business, sir. It was a personal matter and we settled it on our own time.”

Sheridan looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.

“As you wish.” Sheridan paused. “Does she look as bad as you do?” Garibaldi fought down a smile, his eyes twinkling.

“I really wouldn’t know, sir. Most of the places I kicked her were covered.”

“I see.”

They conducted their business and Garibaldi left to conduct his duties to the New Alliance.

---

The command staff in C&C had nothing to say on the subject of Lochley’s appearance, although she could feel their eyes on her all day. Dr. Franklin had been somewhat more forward in his comments, acerbically remarking that she should be a little more careful who she picked fights with, staying preferably within people who weren’t six foot four ex-Marines who weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. She had then asked him if Garibaldi had come in yet to be treated. Franklin had said no, and Lochley had wryly suggested that he see the other victim before making that assertion.She wished to God she had been able to see the look on Franklin’s face when Garibaldi had shown up.

---

Five days went by. The bruises healed except for pale shadows and other aches and pain began to fade. Lochley was finally able to wash her face without encountering stitches and a dermal patch over her eye. Garibaldi was able to sit down without flinching. When they ran into each other, they spoke civilly and professionally, as if nothing had happened, and much of the tension between them was gone.It had been replaced, however, with some other kind of guarded tautness. Garibaldi could feel himself wind tight like a steel cable whenever she came to see him unannounced. Lochley discovered she was always shaking after such meetings, as if a powerful adrenaline rush had flooded her body. It had sometimes been a struggle to control the break in her voice at such moments. He never said anything about it, but she could see the flicker in his eyes. He noticed. He noticed everything…and his summer blue stare never wavered from her face when she talked.

---

On the fifth day, Garibaldi stretched out on his couch to watch a vid. He had to settle himself carefully since his hip still ached a bit, but it was a great relief to be mostly pain-free for the first time in almost a week. He was nursing a big glass of grapefruit juice, which survived reconstitution better than most, and had just shoved a pillow behind his head when the door signaled.He sighed, and rolled half onto his side to put the juice on the table behind his head. Flopping back onto the couch, he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that whoever came in wouldn’t talk too loud. He was tired.

“Come.”

It was Captain Lochley, in uniform, with her hands folded behind her back stiffly. She entered slowly, her piercing eyes taking him and the room in quickly as the door closed. Garibaldi grinned in spite of himself, but didn’t move from his lounging position.

“Hey, Captain. I heard theta squadron is taking bets on whether you got nailed in the crotch — like they could ever prove it, and I’ll never tell.”

“I’m better now, thank you for asking,” she said dryly. Her amusement faltered awkwardly. “Hey, um, I just wanted to, uh, apologize for being a jackass. We got off on the wrong foot and obviously we’re both a little too paranoid for our own good. So I figure we can call it even and start over, if that’s okay by you.”

“Sure,” Garibaldi said casually.

“I’m sorry I kicked you in the — ”

“Yeah,” Garibaldi said, waving his hand. “S’okay. Look, I’m sorry I tried to pull out your — ”

“Uh huh, no problem. Oh, um, I’m also sorry about the — ”

“Franklin says he can graft me a couple more,” Garibaldi reassured her.

“Oh. Good.”

“So is that all you came for?” he wondered. “To apologize for being Fleet?” He grinned at her glare.

“Ha ha,” she said.

“If it makes you feel any better, Franklin’s jaw hit the floor when I went to medlab that night. Apparently you’d been there already. You know, you left teeth marks on my wrist. I don’t think Franklin would’ve even believed what had happened except that I had a fractured rib.” Lochley rolled her eyes.

“Great. Now he thinks I’m into S&M, too. That’s all I need.”

“He can think I’m a cross-dressing gorilla for all I care,” Garibaldi said with a gesture that was like swatting a nonexistent fly. She’d never seen him like this before — sprawled out on his back, relaxed, the timbre of his voice low and drawling. He had a sleepy, watchful expression, like a half-dozing lion on the savanna.

“You know, Garibaldi,” Lochley said after a moment, “I couldn’t help noticing during our little tiff that you had a raging boner in your trousers.”

“Yeah,” Garibaldi said in a low voice, his fierce, cerulean eyes never leaving hers, “well I couldn’t help noticing that you were starin’ at it.” She recognized his expression suddenly — it was exactly what she was feeling in her own gut. She wondered for an instant if her own face were as naked to him. She did know one thing. She had no more self-control left, and when she started to move toward him, she saw that he didn’t, either.

He was already sitting up, reaching out for her, when she dropped one knee onto the couch between his legs and grabbed his face to kiss him hard and deep. He tried to get up, to take her with him to their feet so he could hold her like he really wanted to, but she shoved him back into the couch and climbed into his lap. She didn’t merely straddle his legs, but sat down on his quickly hardening cock and rubbed her warm sex against it through their clothes. Garibaldi groaned hungrily, his arms around her, as she bruised his mouth with her starving kisses.

Oh, God, she tasted so good. Garibaldi rubbed his hands across her back, down over her rump and her legs, lost in the heat of her mouth. He had a savage hard on in just a few more breaths, her crotch grinding against it deliciously. He wanted to laugh with the sheer playful abandon of this. She was going to screw him like a tiger and that was exactly what he wanted right now.

She loved his growl, an animal sound from deep in his throat. There was nothing tender about this, nothing gentle or sensitive. She had been right about the kind of man he was. He was honest and compassionate and decent, but not now, not here like this when they both understood what was going on. He was fully capable of surrendering to the brutality of rutting. She loved men like that, loved it in herself, and she couldn’t turn away from the sight of it in his sky blue eyes.

He was a powerful man. She could feel his strength in the way his big hands roamed over her body, clawing over the back of the belt on her uniform trousers and sending a hot ripple up her spine as his nails gouged over her buttocks. His cock was an iron rod under her sex where she pushed against it, trying to get as close to his body as she could with clothes between them.

Lochley broke the kiss to look at him, to see what he would tell her with his eyes. They were both breathing hard and his mouth was open slightly, teeth bared in a soft prelude to a snarl. He licked his lips, holding her gaze. She shivered at what she saw in his face — a man’s intelligence mingled with animal desire. It was the thinking beast that most provoked her.

“Your bruises are starting to fade,” she growled. “How about I give you a couple more?” She bent down, teeth rasping down his neck, and bit him hard.

He gave a cry, only partly of pain. The rest was lust, pure and bright, the sound flashing into her belly with fire. His hands clamped down on her shoulders, and the next time he drew a breath, he started to tremble. She let go of his throat and drew her open mouth up across his jaw and over his mouth again, licking at his lips until he parted them to touch his tongue to her own, tasting her.

She couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t stand the lure of him, and she struggled swiftly out of her uniform jacket, still kissing him slowly. She shrugged out of it, tossing it toward the chair behind her. His hands joined hers, shoving off her snow white shirt as the snaps popped quietly. He worked on her bra as she spread his own shirt open, forcing him to lean forward to get it off.

Garibaldi tried to follow her again when she got up to strip her trousers and panties off, and she put a forbidding hand on his shoulder to keep him where he was. They were still for a heartbeat, and then Garibaldi leaned back slightly to let her finish, watching with ravenous eyes. Naked, she knelt over his knees to unbuckle his trousers quickly. He raised his hips to let her drag them off, his boxers too, baring his muscular thighs and hard, thick cock. She’d seen the outline of it in his pants in the gym, every inch of it making her shudder.

She growled softly, dangerously, as she climbed back in his lap, her hands on his shoulders. He slid his hands over her hips, holding her, marveling at her clean, fierce musculature and her round, smooth breasts so close to his mouth. She didn’t give him a chance to think, getting close to him, her belly to his chest, and then she was taking his cock inside her. Hot, wet tightness engulfed him and he gave a strangled gasp, hands clawing into her flanks.

It was slow, and warm, and she held his eyes, her jaw clenched, loving every breath and heartbeat of this raw pleasure. He didn’t look away, his own breaths coming in hard, deep pants through his teeth. He was halfway in when he couldn’t bear to be silent anymore and he threw his head back with a snarl and a curse. He gasped affirmations of pleasure and need, his entire body pulled taut as she tormented them both with the slow impalement.

Lochley gritted her teeth and drove the rest of the way down onto him, taking him to the root in a flare of pain and sweetness. He was very big, stretching her deliciously, but his shout of ecstasy was worth it. She chuckled breathlessly, and started to ride him, slow and easy.

When she began to slide up and down on his cock, Garibaldi felt like his blood had caught fire. He started to swear and beg in gasping, incoherent moans, holding her, astonished and desperate. He needed to thrust, his body screaming to lay her down on the floor and screw her hard. But she held him there on the couch with the sheer intensity of what she was doing, savoring his steel-hard cock, caressing his face and neck with short nails that left red marks on his skin. Her eyes held the madness of deprivation and appetite, the steel of experience. Her voice held a terrible, magnificent control and restraint. This could have been over a long time ago, quick and simple on the floor. She wouldn’t let him have such an easy resolution, and he loved her for it.

On the next downstroke he felt like he’d lost his mind, reaching up to bury his fingers in her hair and pull her down to him blindly so he could suck on her neck and kiss her throat passionately. She was so warm, her flesh branding him everywhere they touched, the sound of her voice like a sweet blade in his gut.

“Jesus, fuck me,” he breathed against her breast, suckling her skin hungrily and tasting her salty sweat. “Fuck me good, come on, Captain, lemme see you lose it for me.”

“You might…just get your wish, Garibaldi,” she gasped, her voice strained. Her thighs were trembling with the struggle to keep her pace even and not buck up and down on him as her body begged her to. When she looked down into his eyes, he saw her climax rising, spilling over, and she gave a soft, hard cry. She kept riding him slowly, her sex clipping and pulsing around his cock, her nails drawing blood on his shoulders. He growled and held her close, devouring the sight and scent and feel of her release.

With a rough sigh, she shook herself all over, gulping to breathe. Still moving on him gently, she pulled almost all the way off of him so she could relish the broad head of his cock.

“Better tell me if you get too close,” she purred, nipping his nose. “We don’t want to wear you out too fast, do we?”

“Oh, I get really cranky if I don’t have at least two,” Garibaldi hissed. “And trust me, you don’t want me to get cranky.” He seized her hips bruisingly and pulled her down onto him at the same time he shoved upwards. He sheathed himself all the way in a single stroke, grunting hard with the effort. Lochley whimpered against his mouth as she kissed him again. She had to break away when he started to fuck her. He insisted on setting his own pace this time. “Don’t stop me,” he groaned, half a plea, half a threat. “I have to. Just let me. God damn you’re incredible, oh God I feel like I’m never gonna stop once I start coming.”

“You don’t tease yourself nearly enough, Garibaldi,” Lochley said through a hard grin as she tore out of his embrace, getting to her feet. “Come on, take it, Marine, work for it.” Garibaldi snarled and lunged at her.

He grabbed her before she could enter the bedroom, pushing her up against the wall as if to frisk her. She stayed there, hands on the bulkhead, panting, for the brief moment it took for him to slide his hands around her hips and plunge into her from behind, bending his knees a little bit to do it. It took strength, and he grunted softly, fucking her as deep as he could go, desperate for the release.

“Christ,” Lochley gasped, her fingers clawing into the wall, pushing back against his thrusts with animal need.

“Oh yeah, got you now, Captain. Gonna come, gonna do it oh yeah!” He bucked hard, sharply, and gave a raucous yell of relief and playful joy. He exploded into her, long, hard pulses of sweet release, his hips pushing while he laughed. He had barely finished before slipping out of her again and straightening to press up against her back. She could feel his damp cock slick against her buttocks, still throbbing softly.

“Come on,” he whispered, breathless. “Again please ” They went down on the bed in a tangle, him on top. He was rough — he couldn’t help it — moving her thigh with his hand and loving how she virtually wrapped herself around him as he sheathed his cock in her again. He went deep this time, so sweetly deep, and gave a growling sigh of satisfaction. “Oh yeah,” he purred, “oh man, I love this.” He bucked, her cry of delight sending a shiver up his back.

They coupled savagely this time, rolling around on the bed, laughing, panting, tasting sweat and fire and trust and madness. She was on her belly the second time he made her hold still for a wild, determined fucking, wanting the second release he knew he could have, hoping for a third. She wailed and howled only seconds into it, writhing beneath him. The sight of it burned him and he let go into her with a violence that made him feel a twinge of fear deep in his belly. He heard his own voice thunder in the room, a scream of mastery, and he heard her laugh.

The third time she was in his lap again, on the bed, her sweat-dampened brow pressed against his as they moved slowly, erotically, savoring a sweet tickle that had made itself known in their throats and guts. His hands were slick on her hips, sweat dripping from his chin, pooling in the hollow of her throat, and the fire came for them together. He kissed under her jaw when he came, grunting quietly. She answered with a hard shudder and his name whispered close to his ear.

He lay down on his back, with her on top of him, and gave a long, low, rumbling sigh. Lochley put her head down at the base of his throat, his sweat warm and damp against her cheek. They fell asleep, still coupled, so weak they couldn’t even move to pull the blankets over themselves.

---

The next morning, Sheridan stopped short when he entered the mess hall and saw Lochley and Garibaldi sitting at a table together. They were giggling and muttering to each other, obviously trying not to be overheard by the entire room. Sheridan noted that several other people were in approximately his own state of shock that these two would be friendly to each other, much less this friendly. He steeled himself after another moment and walked toward them with his breakfast tray.”Mind if I join you two?” he asked, trying to sound casual. It was a reasonable request — the mess was pretty full. Garibaldi gestured widely.

“Hey, sure, go ahead, sir.”

“Good morning, Mr. President,” Captain Lochley said. Her face and tone were perfectly even, but Sheridan had the distinct impression she was trying desperately not to burst out laughing.

“You two certainly look happy this morning. Mind if I ask who kicked whose butt yesterday?” Sheridan said wryly, sipping his coffee.

Garibaldi broke out in a big, stupid grin, startling Sheridan. Lochley rolled her eyes and went back to her breakfast.

“I’m going to kick his butt if he doesn’t stop talking about Tex Avery,” she muttered.

“Oh yeah,” Garibaldi snorted. “You and which Minbari warcruiser?”

“I don’t need no stinking warcruiser to kick your ass,” Lochley said deadpan, chewing. Sheridan stared at her.

“You’re just saying that because you know you’ll never get a chance to prove it,” Garibaldi shot back, leaning back in his chair with feigned disinterest.

“Only because you don’t have the balls to sucker punch me when you had the chance. Pardon my language, Mr. President.”

Sheridan watched in silence, as if at a tennis match, eating mindlessly and trying to figure out whether or not what was going on was a Good Thing or a Bad Thing. He finished his breakfast before he arrived at any conclusion, and left the mess hall thoroughly confused. Their rising voices followed him out, and he caught the beginnings of their hysterical, boisterous laughter before getting out of earshot. Sheridan shook his head and muttered to himself all the way to his office.

The End

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Babylon 5, Fanfic

 

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