BSG fic announcement: The Sound of One Hand Clapping
Title: The Sound of One Hand Clapping
Author: Widget
Characters: Lee, Kara
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be (otherwise Lee would be dressed in that towel permanently! Mmmm…towel). No money is being made.
Spoilers: Vaguely season two, but nothing specific
Summary: You’re a pervert, you know that, right?
Notes: Written for romanticalgirl because she sent me yummy Ioan-y goodness in the form of “Another Life,” and a Ioan fix should never go unrewarded. This was supposed to be a PWP, but, well, it kind of got out of hand. Yeah, like that’s news to anyone. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Much love to thepouncer for her awesome beta skills. As always, all errors are mine.
Kara’s smirking.
There’s nothing unusual about that, of course. Kara seems to pass an inordinate amount of her life wearing expressions that range from cocky and smug to infuriatingly superior and utterly self-satisfied. Lee’s known her for years, long enough to know that she has the right to look smug a lot of the time.
It doesn’t mean he has to like it though.
The current situation is, unfortunately, one with which Lee has more than a passing familiarity. Triad game in the pilots’ rec room. Kara gleefully cleaning out her bunkmates until they’re left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. One would think they’d know better by now but maybe the months of fighting Cylons and the fifteen hour patrols have killed off their collective brain cells.
They should know better. Lee in particular should know better, yet here he is once again, about to get his ass kicked at the Triad table. He’s last man standing - she’s managed to wipe the deck with everyone else, their stakes now piled high in front of her - and he could probably take some comfort from that were it not for the fact that he’s pretty sure that he’s about to join his fallen comrades. Prudence, as they say, is the better part of courage and sometimes the wisest course of action is to beat a hasty retreat. Not exactly the most heroic strategy, of course, but better alive than dead, right?
“You in, Apollo?” she asks with a waggle of brows. She’s slouched in her chair, every line of her body radiating confidence tinged with challenge and just the tiniest hint of boredom.
He looks at her pile of winnings then back at his own paltry stake and there can be no doubt about the outcome. The smart thing to do would be to just walk away. Stand up, gather the remnants of his stake and his pride and leave the room before his humiliation is complete, but Gods’ damn it, once, just once, he wants to wipe that smirk off her face and beat her at her own game.
“Yes.”
The word is out of his mouth before he even realized it, but it’s too late to call it back. Win or lose, sink or swim, he’s committed himself and he’ll be damned if he’d giver Kara the satisfaction of seeing him back down. He still has enough of his tattered dignity left to stay the course.
She deals the cards with ease, the soft slap of laminate the only sound in the room, despite the number of pilots still hanging around to watch the conclusion of the game. He wonders what outcome they’re hoping for: the humiliation of the CAG at the hands of one of his pilots or the supremely confident Starbuck getting taken down a peg or two. He decides not to think about the fact that either way, the rest of the room will win.
He picks up his cards, rearranging them carefully and it’s only the long hours he’s spent at the Triad table that keeps him from jumping up and down.
He’s got four on a run. It’s an excellent hand and in almost any other game against any other player it would be a sure winner. But this isn’t some other game and Kara sure as Hades isn’t just some other player. Still, he’s got a fighting chance and he’s not going to blow it. He looks down at his depleted stake and throws some cubits into the pot, just enough to keep it interesting but not so much that she’ll suspect he’s got a good hand. She calls.
“How many?”
“One.”
That earns him a raised eyebrow, which he meets with a bland look. Her eyes narrow in suspicion but she lets it pass. She slides him the requested card.
“And the dealer takes two.”
Lee retrieves his card, placing it alongside the others and for one dizzying instant, his heart stops beating.
Maybe the Gods haven’t forsaken him, or maybe they’re every bit as tired of hearing Kara crow and gloat as he is. He stares at the cards and blinks, slowly, making sure that this isn’t an hallucination.
When he looks again, the cards remain the same.
Holy Hera. Kara dealt him five on a run.
Lee tries - and fails - to calculate the odds of drawing such a hand but he suspects his failure has more to do with the eight - or was it nine? - glasses of the Chief’s homebrew than any mathematical deficiency on his part. What he does know is that the odds are extraordinarily high, almost impossibly so.
He is so going to kick Kara’s ass but good and the best part is that she’s the one who dealt him the cards to do it.
Lee shoots her a discreet look over the tops of his cards. She’s studying hers intently but she glances up when she feels his gaze on her and sends him a look that’s equal parts arrogance and defiance.
Oh yes, she’s going down.
“Your bid, Apollo.”
He studies the severely depleted pile at his elbow and knows there’s only one option. He pushes everything to the center of the table.
Kara’s eyes widen, then narrow. She knows that Lee rarely goes all in unless he’s got a killer hand. He’s tipped his hand, but then, what choice did he have?
“I see you and I raise you three hundred,” she says, smirking as she drops the cubits to the table one by one, the clink of metal like the sound of nails being hammered in his coffin.
He sighs. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t expecting that gambit. Starbuck has never been a gracious loser, but she’s not a gracious winner either. Her philosophy has always been “why just win when you can annihilate your opponent?” It’s one of the things that makes her such a brilliant pilot in a combat situation. It’s also one of the reasons that she has so many admirers but so few real friends aboard Galactica. Humiliation isn’t so much fun when you’re on the receiving end and Kara has never been good at recognizing how far is too far; restraint is not one of Kara’s virtues.
“Well, that’s it then. I’m out,” he says with a shrug. He lays his cards down but before he can rise from the table. Kara reaches over and rests her hand on his wrist.
“Not so fast.”
He frowns. “I’m tapped out, Kara, as you should well know since every last cubit I own is currently sitting either in that pot or in the pile in front of you. I don’t have anything left to bet.”
“What about a forfeit?”
Lee’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“A forfeit. You know, I take a favor in lieu of cash. If you win you don’t owe me anything.”
“And if I lose?”
Kara shrugs. “Then you owe me a favor of my choosing.”
Lee can hear the chorus of surprised sounds coming from the other pilots. He’d been so caught up in the game he’d forgotten them entirely. Things have just gotten interesting from their standpoint. They’ve gotten extraordinarily dangerous from his, however.
This is potentially very bad. This would be far, far worse than simply losing all his money. He knows Kara well enough to know that she will make him pay in ways he’d never imagine if she wins. The very fact that she’s offering him this chance is proof that she’s sure she’s going to win. But then Kara never really considers the possibility that she could lose.
In his head he ticks off all the reasons why this is a bad idea but his gaze drifts to the cards still resting face down in front of him. He’s got five on a run. It’s a beauty of a hand, a winning hand. A frakking gift from the Gods. Lee tries to calculate the chances that Kara is holding full colors, the only hand that could beat his. Again his analytical skills fail him, but he knows that it’s huge, astronomical even.
It’s stupid, amazingly stupid, but he wants the win so bad he can taste it. More than anything he wants to wipe that smirk off her face; he wants her to know just once what it feels like to be outwitted and outmaneuvered. To be outplayed at your own game. Maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s childish, but he doesn’t care. He’s taking her down.
She’s watching him intently, a cocky grin on her face. “Well?”
“I accept…”
Her grin broadens.
He raises a finger before she can respond. “…on two conditions.”
“Which are?”
“First, whatever the forfeit is, no regulations get broken. I’m not going to end up in hack over a stupid wager.”
“Done.”
Lee’s eyes narrow. That was a little too easy. She’s definitely got something in mind and whatever it is, he knows he’s not going to like it. But he’s plotted his course and he’s not about to back down now.
“Second, that it doesn’t involve public humiliation.”
“Aww, Lee. Would I do something like that?” she asks wide-eyes, her voice sugary sweet.
A memory from flight school involving being dressed in his underwear singing the Colonial anthem in the middle of the quad at dawn on Commencement day comes to mind. “In a heartbeat.”
Kara’s lip juts out in a pout.
Lee snorts. “Don’t even try it, Thrace. I didn’t buy your sweet and innocent act at the Academy and I sure as Hades ain’t buying it now.”
She grins, her face lighting up with glee. “All right, all right. No public humiliation. Deal?”
She extends her hand and Lee eyes it for a heartbeat or two. This is his last chance to escape but he knows he won’t take it. He folds her hand in his. “Deal.”
“You guys are all witnesses,” she says, addressing the flock of pilots who watch with eager eyes. “CAG took the bet fair and square.”
“I’m not gonna back out, Kara,” he says with more than a little heat in his voice. He’s not sure whether its her confidence or the implication that he might try to welch on a bet that irritates him more. “I always pay my debts.”
She nods and he thinks he sees something like apology flash across her face before it vanished behind her brazen mask of arrogance.
“All right, Lee. Show me what you got.”
He turns the cards over with a flourish and a grin. “Five on a run.”
The room fills with the sound of appreciative noises and even a few whistles of admiration. He can feel the excitement rising around him at the possibility that Starbuck had been outplayed -literally - at her own game.
She’s nodding, her expression grave. “That’s a terrific hand. No wonder you wanted to see this through.”
His smile widens.
“Pity it’s still not good enough.” She flips her cards over. “Full colors.”
Lee stares at the cards, his gut twisting with numb shock. Sure enough, there it is, the one and only hand that could beat his. Full frakking colors.
He drops his head into his hands with a groan. Looks like the Gods have forsaken him after all.
[][][]
As expected, Kara seems to be in no hurry to collect on their wager. Quite the contrary; one day bleeds into the next and then into another with absolutely no mention whatsoever of the forfeit. It’s almost as if it doesn’t exist. He could wish.
The only sign that something’s going on is Kara’s demeanor. She’s more smug than usual, if such a thing is even possible, and so uncharacteristically, offensively chipper that people begin to shoot wary looks her way, wondering what she’s plotting.
Lee knows the feeling.
He wonders what she’d say if he pointed out how very predictable she is. He suspects she’d be pissed as hell. Kara likes to cultivate a reputation for being brash and erratic. Dangerous. It’s not nearly as true as she’d like to believe. Not by half. And while he would no doubt enjoy the flash of irritation as the observation hit home, he knows she’d make him pay that much more when the time comes. Lee keeps the thought to himself.
As the days progress, so does his apprehension. He knows better than to broach the subject of the forfeit prematurely; it will only make her delay further and encourage her to be more outrageous in her demands. No, part of the fun for Kara is making him sweat. She enjoys leaving him on tenterhooks, waiting -hoping - for him to crack and ask for her to get on with it already, making her victory that much sweeter.
No frakking way is he going to give it to her.
That, at least, is one lesson he’s learned. If he doesn’t rise to the bait, eventually she’ll tire of the waiting game and call in the forfeit.
It won’t be pleasant when she does, of course; it never is. But there’s nothing in the unwritten rules that says Lee has to make things worse by prodding her.
Two weeks pass and still no word from Kara regarding the forfeit, but Lee has neither the time nor the energy to dwell on it. He’s got three pilots down with food poisoning from bad rations, four planes out of service and half a dozen new crises brewing. He barely has time to eat and catch a nap before someone or something else is clamoring for his attention. It’s gotten so bad that he’s beginning to wax nostalgic for the relative peace of those fifteen hour shifts he’d been cursing just weeks before.
But none of that matters now. Lee has eight hours of free time before him and he plans to collapse on to his rack and sleep for as long as the Gods, his shipmates, and various pending disasters permit.
As always, the journey to his rack is painfully slow and halting. First there’s a discussion with the Chief over repairs for his downed birds, followed by a request from Hot Dog and Joker to switch shifts on CAP and a query from Kelly regarding new launch protocol.
He finally manages to escape the flight deck and even gets halfway to the senior officers duty locker before getting waylaid by Doc Cottle about the pilots’ quarterly physical exams. Apparently half of his pilots have yet to report to sick bay for the mandatory examinations and are in danger of getting their flight status summarily revoked. Lee’s not surprised that Kara is a culprit, but he can only smile sheepishly when Cottle points out that the CAG is at the top of the list as well. Cottle lets him escape with a promise to address the issue at the next briefing and to haul Starbuck’s ass as well as his own to sick bay before he sends the marines to do it for them.
Thinking of Kara’s dislike of sick bay, invasive physical exams and the ever cantankerous Cottle, Lee thinks that he may very well end up hauling her down there over his shoulder. He makes a mental note to get his own exam out of the way first. It wouldn’t do for the CAG to get called on being a hypocrite, after all.
The duty locker is blissfully empty when he arrives. He has just enough energy to toe off his boots before sinking down on his bunk. He flings an arm across his eyes to block out the overhead lights, too tired to even pull the curtain closed behind him let alone take off his flight suit.
After so many hours in the cockpit, following on the heels of endless meetings and briefings, it feels good just to stretch out flat on his back and his bunk is almost sinfully inviting despite the thin mattress. What begins as a contented sigh becomes a moan by the time it escapes his lips.
“Well, that’s an interesting sound.”
Exhausted though he is, Lee still jumps a little at the sound of her voice. He raises his arm just enough so he can crack one eye. Kara is leaning against her locker.
“Sleeping,” he says, his eye dropping shut.
“You don’t look like you’re sleeping,” she replies almost matter-of-factly, though Lee catches the edge of humor in her voice.
“I would be if somebody would stop talking.”
“Oh, Lee. I’m hurt. Really.” Her voice is mocking now.
He snorts. “You’ll live.”
She doesn’t reply and Lee thinks that maybe she’s left or maybe, just maybe she’s taken pity on him and has decided to let him sleep in peace.
“Hey, Lee?”
He should be so lucky. Maybe if he ignores her…
“Lee?”
He sighs again, this time in exasperation. “What?”
“I finally decided what I want as my forfeit.”
That gets his attention. He props himself up on his elbows and stares at Kara. Still leaning against her locker, arms crossed over her chest, she looks perfectly at ease, but there’s an intensity in her gaze that belies the careless slouch. He waits, expecting her to chime in with whatever plan she’s cooked up for his humiliation but she just continues to stare at him intently. It’s decidedly unnerving.
“All right. I’ll bite. Whaddya want?”
“I want to watch you get off.”
He stares at her, jaw dropping in shock. Surely she didn’t say what he thought she said. When he tries to speak, his tongue feels oddly clumsy. “Wha…?”
She smiles at him then, a dazzling smile that’s all flashing canines and thinly veiled menace. “I want to watch you get off,” she repeats
“What?” he asks again. Exhaustion is slowing him down, making him stupid and he can’t seem to focus his thoughts, can’t seem to wrap his head around what she said.
Kara gives a soft laugh. “I know you’re kind of uptight, Apollo, but surely even you’re familiar with the concept.”
He rolls his eyes, exasperation buying him a little time while his mind races in circles. “Of course, I’m familiar with the concept. I just fail to see why it’s figuring into this conversation. Or any conversation for that matter.”
Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “You are such a prude sometimes. It’s simple. We have a wager. You gave me a forfeit and I’m calling it in.”
“But…this?”
“Why not?” she replies with a shrug. “There’s a distinct lack of porn in the Fleet these days. A girl needs to get her entertainment where she can.”
“I’m not going to” - masturbate, wank, jerk off, spank the monkey, lube the cylinder, terms both clinical and crude flash through his head - “do that for you.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Why does he even have to explain this to her?
“We made a bet, fair and square, Lee. You said you’d see it through,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest her voice brooking no denial.
“But this…”
Kara holds up a hand. “You accepted the wager, Lee, of your own volition.”
She moves closer, bracing her hip against the edge of the table occupying the space between his bunk and hers. “You set two conditions: the forfeit could only be collected in private and it couldn’t go against regs and I’ve honored both. You can’t get more private than the senior officers’ bunkroom,” she says with a sweep of her arm. “And the last time I checked, getting off wasn’t against regulations, though it would be kind of funny to see Tigh trying to enforce that one,” she adds with a grin.
“So,” Kara says, moving around the table to stand directly in front of his bunk. “It’s your call, Lee. You said you always pay your debts. Well, now it’s time to prove it.”
He stares at her, seeing the cocky smile, the challenging lift of her chin, the confident lines of her body and there’s no denying it: he’s trapped, but good. He’d known going in that if he lost, she’d make him pay. Kara is nothing if not creative in her tortures, but this goes far beyond anything he would ever have imagined percolating in that devious, twisted brain of hers.
She cocks an eyebrow at him in silent query.
Lee sighs. “You’re a pervert, you know that, right?”
Her grin stretches. “And your point is…?”
“If anyone finds out…” he warns.
“We made a deal. No public humiliation. The hatch is dogged. No one is coming in. What happens here, stays here. Agreed?”
What can he say? Either he honors his word or he doesn’t and as much as this whole scenario unnerves him, the latter option isn’t one.
“Agreed.”
“Excellent!” she crows before hopping up on the table to give herself a prime view. She swings her legs back and forth, all restless motion and eager anticipation, like a little girl waiting for the recess bell to ring. It’s an image he can do without under the circumstances, but apparently his mind just loves frakking with him.
“So,” he begins, rubbing suddenly sweaty palms against his thighs. “How do we do this?”
“I thought you said you were already familiar with the concept. Do you need me to draw you a diagram or something?” Her eyes widen as she asks the question.
“Kara.” He knows there’s no mistaking the note of warning in his voice.
She takes the hint. “Just start with the basics. Strip down, stretch out, get comfortable then take the Arrow of Apollo…”
“Arrow of Apollo?”
Kara shrugs. “Fine. Take the Deputy CAG, or Wee Lee or whatever in the frak you call your dick in hand and do what comes naturally. It’s not exactly rocket science, Lee.”
“Wee Lee?” He tries to keep his irritation from bleeding through, but he can still hear it in his voice and knows that she must have heard it as well.
Kara rolls her eyes. “Honestly, you men are so touchy when it comes to your equipment. You can name it Emperor Palladius the Magnificent if that helps you get off. I don’t care about the how, just results.”
She gives him a pointed look.
“So get to it.”
Lee licks his lips, a nervous habit he’s never been able to break, keenly aware of her eyes on him.
“You’re serious about this?” he asks. It’s a futile, last ditch effort but he has to try.
“Lee,” she says, exasperated but still amused, “the sooner you get down to it, the sooner it’ll all be over. You don’t want one of your fellow pilots coming back to quarters and pounding on the hatch while you’re mid-wank do you?”
Lee closes his eyes and groans. Dear Lords, could this situation get any more frakked up?
“All right, all right. But I just want to go on record and say that you are one sick frakker, Thrace.”
She laughs, a rich, throaty, exuberant sound. “Duly noted, Adama. Now strip off and get down to business. Unless you need a hand…?”
He studiously ignores her leer. “I’ve been undressing myself for years, thanks.”
“And yet you’re still fully dressed.”
He shakes his head. She’s right; there’s no point in stalling. He agreed to a forfeit and the sooner it’s over the faster he can begin to repress.
Lee turns his back towards her and begins to unfasten his flight suit. He knows it’s silly; Lee isn’t exactly a blushing virgin and he’s never been particularly self-conscious about stripping down in semi-public spaces, but this is different. It feels weird getting undressed in front of her now.
It’s not modesty, per se. There’s no room for those kinds of inhibitions in the military. Between the close quarters and communal living and the snap inspections, you either leave your prudishness at the door or learn to embrace misery. Sooner or later everyone grows to accept skin as a survival tactic. The process may be longer for some, but by the end of flight school, shame is pretty much a thing of the past.
It’s not even that it’s Kara. He’s not showing her anything that she hasn’t seen before and on a near daily basis in the showers or bunkroom. There’s no privacy on a battlestar and in the six months they’ve been stationed together on Galactica she’s had ample opportunity to see every square inch of him and he’s been able to return the favor. It’s not exactly unknown territory. Besides, Lee’s caught enough admiring looks from his fellow pilots - Kara included - to know that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of.
No, he realizes, it’s the fact that she’s staring at him, boldly and with intent. Unspoken rule number one of barracks life is no looking. The occasional sideways glance or quick peek in the communal showers is permissible because, well, people are people and everyone is a little curious. But you don’t look, not intentionally, and you sure as Hades don’t stare. Looking, at best, will get you a fist in the face; at worst, it will earn you some very nasty reprisals from the rest of your bunkmates because not looking is rule number one and barracks justice can be a real bitch.
But Kara is staring at him now, her gaze practically searing into his back. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that she’s smirking and he certainly doesn’t want to see the look of smug satisfaction and triumph that she’ll be wearing. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss or at the very least the last defense against the onset of insanity.
Unzipping his flight suit, he pushes it down over his shoulders, past his hips to slide down around his ankles. He wobbles a bit as he steps out of it and studiously ignores the soft snicker coming from behind him as he steadies himself with a hand against the top bunk. Back still turned to Kara, he pulls his tanks over his head and drops them to the deck. After a moment’s hesitation, he hooks his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs before pulling them off in one quick motion. Thankfully, this time he manages to maintain his balance. Entirely naked, he slides into his bunk and lies down on the mattress.
He lies there for a few moments, staring at the metal slats of the bunk overhead and tries to screw up his courage. Maybe even work up some modicum of arousal.
He’s not sure he can really go through with it. Maybe Kara finds this scenario hot, but exhibitionism has never been his thing. Well, not as a sexual kink anyway. He closes his eyes and tries to find some spark of desire, but comes up empty. He’s too aware of Kara’s eyes on his body, too aware of her expectations. He’s never suffered from performance anxiety before, but then he’s never had to perform quite like this before, either.
“You could try pretending I’m not here,” she says, her voice intruding upon his thoughts.
He bites back his reply which would be somewhere along the lines of that’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since you got here.
“Or you could pretend I’m someone else, maybe,” she suggests, her voice honey smooth but tinged with amusement.
He turns his head to look at her for the first time since he’d begun undressing. As expected she’s grinning like a loon and there’s a manic gleam in her eye and something else that he doesn’t quite recognize and doesn’t really want to.
“How about Helo?”
“Helo?!”
Kara shrugs and her smile turns predatory. “Aww, c’mon Lee. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed him. I’ve seen you checking him out in the showers.”
Lee makes a choked sound that’s something between a laugh and a horrified gasp. “I have not!”
She tilts her head as she studies him. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”
“Pity,” she replies with a shrug. “Helo’s hot. And he’s really good with his hands…”
Lee shoots her a questioning look and Kara doesn’t miss a beat.
“…you can tell by the way he handles a screwdriver when he’s doing repairs to his Raptor. You sure you don’t want me to get Helo for you, Lee?” She’s definitely teasing now.
“Quite sure.” Lee’s eyes narrow. “You’ve got way too many perverted fantasies in that head of yours, Thrace. I’m not gonna make out with Helo just so you can get your rocks off. Forget it.”
“Damn.” Her face falls for a moment and then she’s grinning at him again. “Oh well. A girl can always dream, can’t she?”
“You can dream all you want, Kara, but next time, leave me out of it,” he says with a shudder. Gods he’s going to need a drink after this. Hell, a whole bottle probably won’t be enough to erase the unwanted visuals Kara has so gleefully planted in his head.
“Well, for there to be a next time, there needs to be a first time and I gotta say that so far I’m less than impressed. You told me you were familiar with the concept, Lee, but I’m thinking that maybe you need a refresher course on the basic mechanics.” Kara’s smile turns mischievous. “My offer still stands.”
He shoots her a confused look.
“To lend a hand.” By way of illustration Kara jerks her hand back and forth, the motion and intent unmistakable. “You know, just to get you started.”
Lee can feel his cheeks burning. He’s half tempted to take her up on it just to see if she’d follow through, but he knows better than to give in to the impulse. This is Kara, after all, and she never backs down from a challenge. She’d do it, all right, then give him grief about it until the end of time. He can practically hear the jokes now. Hey, Lee! What’s the sound of one hand wanking? Oh, wait, you don’t know, do you?.
He closes his eyes and wonders if it’s possible to die from sheer mortification. He suspects he’s going to find out before this whole wretched scenario plays itself out.
“No thanks, Kara. I can handle it.”
Another careless shrug. “Suit yourself, Apollo.”
He closes his eyes and just breathes, trying to clear his mind from distractions like Kara sitting there smirking at him and Helo and his screwdriver. He grimaces and has to start all over again.
“You know, Lee. I didn’t expect this to take quite so long,” she pipes up, making a show of glancing at her watch. “Maybe I should make a quick dash to the mess to grab a bite since it looks like it may be a while ‘til the floorshow starts.”
“Well, if someone didn’t interrupt constantly, maybe it wouldn’t take so long!” he snaps back.
“You don’t have to be so snippy about it, Lee. I mean if you can’t get it up…”
Lee grinds his teeth and counts to ten. Slowly. He reminds himself that it’s against regs to throttle a fellow officer, no matter how much she deserves it. He swore he wasn’t going to end up in hack over this stupid forfeit and Gods damn it, he’s going to keep that promise.
“Kara?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the frak up or I swear to the Gods I’m going to gag you and tie you to that table!”
“Ohhh! Lee!” she replies, eyes wide with feigned shock. “I had no idea you were into that sort of stuff! Damn! Now I really wish Helo was here!”
“I’m not kidding, Kara. Shut. Up.”
“Gods, Lee. When did you lose your sense of humor?”
“About the time you popped in here interrupting the first rack time I’ve had in two days with this stupid frakking forfeit. So, if you want me to fulfill my obligation, shut the frak up, otherwise this is officially over.” His voice is a little too vehement and he knows it.
“You are such a drama queen.”
“Kara.”
She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll be good.”
Lee snorts. “That’ll be a first.”
She glares at him but Lee can see the way the corners of her mouth are twitching upwards. Well, it’s nice to know that one of them has managed to keep a sense of humor in this frakked-up situation. Pity it’s not him.
Lee closes his eyes again and once more tries to clear his mind and relax. He breathes slowly, in and out, in and out, willing his whole body to go lax. This time Kara keeps her mouth shut and Lee can pretend he’s alone in his rack, his personal pain in the ass-cum-voyeur long gone.
Lee rifles through his memory and tries to conjure up a suitable fantasy. He opts for the stunning redhead he’d seen on his last shore leave on Cloud Nine a few weeks ago, back before things got so frantic. She’d been beautiful, all long legs and ivory skin with auburn hair falling to her shoulders in heavy waves and a slinky dress cut in a way that left little to the imagination. Unfortunately, she’d already been engaged in conversation with another man and from the way her body angled towards his, Lee knew she was no longer available.
Of course, the beauty of a fantasy was that it didn’t have to adhere to reality. So Lee can cheerfully rewrite the memory: when he arrives she’s alone at the bar and quite amenable to his advances. They leave together and head up to her room, one with a real bed. He takes her in his arms just inside the door, kissing her thoroughly. She responds with satisfying fervor.
Lee can feel a gentle, insistent heat gathering low in his belly and his right hand slides slowly down his body until it reaches his cock. He’s growing hard, his flesh heavy and blood warm in his hand as he holds it in a loose grip.
The redhead takes Lee’s hand and leads him over to the bed. She places her hand flat on his chest and gives him a gentle shove that tumbles him laughing to the bed. Lee reaches out to grab her hand and pull her down along with him, but she slips from his grasp, a wicked smile on her beautiful face. Lee grins helplessly back at her.
Still smiling at him, she slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders and it flutters to floor. Dressed only in a lacy bra and panties, she carefully steps over the puddle of blue silk, walks to a small table and spreads herself across the surface like a Colonial Day feast.
Lee’s smile grows wider and he begins to rise up from the bed.
And that’s when the scene suddenly changes.
The sumptuous stateroom on Cloud Nine vanishes, replaced by the all too familiar dull metal walls and double bunks of the senior officers’ duty locker. Lee blinks, confused, but the scene doesn’t change back. Even worse, however, is the fact that the redhead has disappeared and in her stead is none other than Kara Thrace. No lacy underwear, of course, just regulation tanks and a pair of plain gray cotton briefs. Like the redhead, Kara’s sprawled over the top of the table; unlike the redhead, however, Kara is bound and gagged. Her head is turned towards him and she’s staring at him, not with the fear or anger as he might expect, but with something akin to excitement.
Lee simply lies there propped up on his elbows and gawps at the sight of a bound and gagged Kara Thrace. It’s unexpected and unsettling, and, he realizes as his cock gives a sudden twitch, frakking hot.
He groans and drops back against the mattress. Dear Gods, when did he become a complete pervert?
It’s Kara’s fault, of course. She’s the one who started him thinking along this path in the first place. He was being completely honest when he said this wasn’t his sort of thing. Not the voyeurism and exhibitionism she demanded as her forfeit and certainly not the kinky bondage scenario he’s thinking of now.
Lee’s not into that, never has been. He likes his partners to be active participants in the proceedings. He likes interaction and enthusiasm, likes the feel of hands and lips, and teeth and tongue on his body. The thought of rendering someone helpless and then taking them like that does absolutely nothing for him. Usually.
He doesn’t know why his mind has conjured up this particular image of Kara. Well, apart from the fact that his own mind hates him. A lot. Lee can still see her in his fantasy, stretched out and bound. Lee considers the image for a moment but still feels no desire to tear off her clothes and frak her.
As fantasies go, this one really blows.
And not in the good way.
His imaginary gaze drifts down her body to her face. She’s gagged with a strip of dark fabric covering the lower half of her face and her eyes are bright and intent. She looks like she wants to say something, but can’t. Immobile and silent, she can only lay there and look at him while he’s free to move, to leave, to sing the Colonial anthem if he so chooses. She can’t respond, can only lay there silently.
Silent…
Gods, when was the last time Kara was actually silent? The only answer he can come up with is never.
He eyes her contemplatively and she stares back. Silently. For once she isn’t yammering on. There’s none of her typical bragging and boasting, none of her bitching and whining and cursing at the top of her lungs. No off color jokes or inappropriate comments. No relentless teasing or mockery. No telling of embarrassing stories he’d just as soon leave buried. No snickering during his briefings. No insults, no ‘sirs’ bitten out between clenched teeth. No endless questioning of his orders as if he’s a frakking moron who can’t find his ass with both hands, No smirking…
Lee feels his cock give a sharp twitch and his hand wraps around his erection. He’s hard, almost painfully hard and he lies there for a moment and lets the implications of his reaction sink in.
Apparently he really is a sick frakker, but not because wants to do a bound and helpless Starbuck. No, apparently, he just wants her to shut the frak up.
Who knew that a silent Kara was such a turn on?
Huh.
Apparently you really do learn something new every day and right now, Lee just wants to enjoy it.
He locks gazes with the fantasy Kara, his lips stretching into a challenging smile before twisting into a full blown smirk that she can’t match. His cock gives another appreciative twitch.
Lee tightens his grip and begins to move his hand in earnest, sliding it up and down the length of his erection. His strokes are slow and even. There’s no need to rush; he wants to savor this for as long as he can. It’s been a long time, probably too long since he’s actually had the time or inclination to jack off. That should worry him, he knows, but he’s not going to think about that, or anything else, until later.
He settles into a lazy rhythm, up, down, up, down, a quick squeeze to the base of his cock that draws a stuttering sigh from open lips. His left hand comes up to skim across his belly, the tips of his fingers grazing up along his sternum then down again. His skin feels flushed and feverish to the touch and when his thumb brushes against his nipple, the flesh reacts at once, puckering into a taut nub. He brushes against the other nipple. It contracts as well, eliciting another breathy sigh.
Lee shifts on the mattress, rolling his shoulders and arching his back as that tingle of arousal pricks nerves that have been slumbering for far too long, shocking them into awareness. He lifts his left hand to his lips and draws his tongue across his palm, wetting the skin before switching hands.
He grasps his cock in his left hand and pulls at himself. Spit slick, it glides easily through the tunnel formed by his fingers. It’s good and when he tightens his grip and tugs more forcefully at his erection that feels even better.
He lets the fingers of his free hand dance along his chest, shifting lower, lower until they encounter the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. He lets them slip lower still to where his balls hang, taking them in his hand. Lee can feel the heavy weight of them nestled in the palm of his right hand. He rolls them slowly in his hand and gives them a squeeze. This time it’s a moan that escapes his parted lips.
He hears an answering sound, muted and muffled behind cloth and when he turns his head he finds Kara watching him with eager, hungry eyes. He can see the way her gaze tracks the motions of his left hand on his cock, up, down, up, down. When he stops, so do her eyes; when he begins again, her eyes begin to shift back and forth again like a spectator at a game of netball. He feels another jolt of heat low in his belly; her smoldering gaze is like another set of hands upon his body.
But there aren’t any other hands, merely his own, stroking his erection, brushing over his body. He knows what he likes - Lords know he’s done this enough over the years - he knows the rhythm that works best, knows the exact amount of pressure to apply to his strokes. He knows when to give his cock a quick squeeze and when to press the heel of his hand against his balls. It’s all familiar, but now it feels different, new and exciting and slightly dangerous and a whole lot of twisted as Kara watches him with all the intensity of a predator lurking in the shadows. He moans then, his legs sliding apart and for a brief moment his hand falters, rhythm lost, before he finds it again.
The movement of his hand accelerates. Lee tries to slow down but heat pools in his belly and a familiar tightness gathers in his balls and he knows that he’s close now, too close to put on the brakes. He bends his legs and plants his feet flat against the mattress as his hips jerk upwards. His hand tightens around his cock and he moans at the sensation.
Lee locks gazes with his fantasy Kara once more as the movement of his hand becomes rougher and more urgent. Kara’s eyes are wide, nearly black with arousal, and Lee’s sure he can hear soft, needy sounds escaping past the gag. She’s moving as well now, humping against the edge of the table, writhing along the top like a snake as her body seeks the stimulation she needs to get off. She strains helplessly against her restraints, but to no avail. Lee smiles, no, he smirks, at the knowledge that only one of them will be getting off and it isn’t going to be her.
Oh yes, this is so very good.
Lee continues to jerk himself off, staring at Kara the entire time. The sound of her whimpers and growls of frustration fill his ears and that’s even hotter than her eyes on his body. His hand moves frantically, rough to the point of pain but he’s close now, so frakking close and he can’t slow down, doesn’t want to slow down, he just needs, Gods, he needs to get off right frakking now…
Climax slams through his body with the sudden force of a Viper launch. He arches off the bed, heels digging into the mattress as he comes, ejaculate covering his belly and chest in sticky spurts. He clamps his mouth shut to smother his cry of exultation, but he can’t entirely bite back on the loud moan that escapes past clenched teeth. For a long breathless moment, his body is taut as a bowstring while pleasure rushes through him, then he collapses back on the bed in a boneless heap.
Lee lies there for a time, heart pounding, lungs burning while echoes of pleasure bounce along his nerve endings and lights continue to dance behind closed lids.
When he opens his eyes again, the fantasy Kara has vanished. Her real life counterpart is sitting atop the table staring at him in what can only be described as shock: eyes wide, jaw slack, expression a little dazed. Her cheeks, he notices, are very pink.
Lee cocks an eyebrow at her, a small smile tugging at his lips while he basks in languor.
Kara runs her tongue along her lips before speaking.
“Damn, Lee. I didn’t think you’d really go through with it. That was…” she trails off, eyes skittering to the side before returning to his face.
“Really hot?” he suggests, smile shifting to full blown smirk at her obvious perturbation. He wonders if he should tell her how cute she is when she’s flustered.
“Unexpected,” she rejoins, but the intensity of her gaze tells him he’s right. He waggles her brows at her and nearly laughs out loud when her blush deepens. Oh, he could get some serious mileage out of this. Very few things throw Kara Thrace off stride and he’s just discovered one of them. Fortunately, Lee’s gracious - and prudent - enough to let her slide. It doesn’t matter; they both know the truth and that’s enough for Lee.
He reaches down and fishes for his discarded tanks and uses them to wipe down his chest and belly. “So, the debt is paid now, right?”
“Yeah,” she says, sounding almost distracted. “Just one thing…”
Lee balls up the dirty tanks and tosses them in the bottom corner of his bunk, too tired to even bother tossing them in the laundry bin. Exhaustion and a pleasant post-coital buzz are already settling in, slowing him down. “What?”
“What were you thinking of? You know, while you were…” Kara makes a vague hand gesture and Lee can’t help but grin. Hell of a time for her to turn all shy and prim on him.
“I’m not telling,” he says, sliding his boxer briefs back on before collapsing back on his bunk
“Awww, c’mon, Lee.”
“Nope.” He smothers a yawn behind his hand as he stretches out, his entire body heavy with lassitude. Sleep is beckoning and it’s an effort to keep up his end of the conversation.
“Please?”
“No way,” he says, grinning dopily. “Next time you should remember to make it a condition of the forfeit.” He raises a finger, cutting her off before she can answer. “And no, there won’t be a next time. You want porn? Ask Joker if you can borrow one of his skin mags. Or better yet, stick to you own twisted imagination. This was my one and only performance in Starbuck’s Personal Porn Theatre. Hope you enjoyed it ‘cause I am now officially retired.”
“You’re no fun,” she says pouting, but Lee can see she’s trying not to laugh.
“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. His eyelids are starting to droop but he forces them to stay open. He’s having too much fun to sleep yet. “I’d say that adorable blush you’re sporting says otherwise.”
That earns him a glare. “I do not blush.”
“Sure you don’t, Starbuck. It’s kind of cute, actually,” he can’t help the taunt.
“Shut it, Adama, before I shut it for you.”
An image of Kara gagged into silence flashes in his head and he can’t help but chuckle.
Kara frowns. “What’s so funny?”
Lee waves a hand in her direction as he stretches out on his bunk. “Nothing, Starbuck. Nothing at all.”
Her eyes narrow, obviously not buying, but short of calling him a liar to his face, there isn’t much she can do about it. “Right.”
He chuckles again, shaking his head a little before his mouth stretches into a jaw cracking yawn. “Sorry.”
Kara’s expression softens. “Get some rest, Apollo. I want you wide awake when I kick your ass at the triad table.”
“Uh huh,” he says but the words are a little slurred in his ears and his eyes are starting to slide shut again. He rolls over on his side, facing the wall, too tired, yet again, to pull the curtain. At least this time he’s not wearing his flight suit.
Lee sighs as he burrows into the mattress. He feels a blanket pulled over his shoulder and he can hear the faint metallic screech of the curtain being drawn. He knows if he opened his eyes he’d see nothing but shadows. That’s all right, though. He’s comfortable and warm and his body feels looser and more relaxed than it has in days and he’s drifting off before he even realizes.
Huh.
Maybe the forfeit wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
The last thing he sees before he drifts off to sleep entirely is Kara, still bound and gagged. She winks at him and he’s certain she’s smirking under the gag, but this time Lee just smiles back.
Finis
Author: Widget
Characters: Lee, Kara
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be (otherwise Lee would be dressed in that towel permanently! Mmmm…towel). No money is being made.
Spoilers: Vaguely season two, but nothing specific
Summary: You’re a pervert, you know that, right?
Notes: Written for romanticalgirl because she sent me yummy Ioan-y goodness in the form of “Another Life,” and a Ioan fix should never go unrewarded. This was supposed to be a PWP, but, well, it kind of got out of hand. Yeah, like that’s news to anyone. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Much love to thepouncer for her awesome beta skills. As always, all errors are mine.
Kara’s smirking.
There’s nothing unusual about that, of course. Kara seems to pass an inordinate amount of her life wearing expressions that range from cocky and smug to infuriatingly superior and utterly self-satisfied. Lee’s known her for years, long enough to know that she has the right to look smug a lot of the time.
It doesn’t mean he has to like it though.
The current situation is, unfortunately, one with which Lee has more than a passing familiarity. Triad game in the pilots’ rec room. Kara gleefully cleaning out her bunkmates until they’re left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. One would think they’d know better by now but maybe the months of fighting Cylons and the fifteen hour patrols have killed off their collective brain cells.
They should know better. Lee in particular should know better, yet here he is once again, about to get his ass kicked at the Triad table. He’s last man standing - she’s managed to wipe the deck with everyone else, their stakes now piled high in front of her - and he could probably take some comfort from that were it not for the fact that he’s pretty sure that he’s about to join his fallen comrades. Prudence, as they say, is the better part of courage and sometimes the wisest course of action is to beat a hasty retreat. Not exactly the most heroic strategy, of course, but better alive than dead, right?
“You in, Apollo?” she asks with a waggle of brows. She’s slouched in her chair, every line of her body radiating confidence tinged with challenge and just the tiniest hint of boredom.
He looks at her pile of winnings then back at his own paltry stake and there can be no doubt about the outcome. The smart thing to do would be to just walk away. Stand up, gather the remnants of his stake and his pride and leave the room before his humiliation is complete, but Gods’ damn it, once, just once, he wants to wipe that smirk off her face and beat her at her own game.
“Yes.”
The word is out of his mouth before he even realized it, but it’s too late to call it back. Win or lose, sink or swim, he’s committed himself and he’ll be damned if he’d giver Kara the satisfaction of seeing him back down. He still has enough of his tattered dignity left to stay the course.
She deals the cards with ease, the soft slap of laminate the only sound in the room, despite the number of pilots still hanging around to watch the conclusion of the game. He wonders what outcome they’re hoping for: the humiliation of the CAG at the hands of one of his pilots or the supremely confident Starbuck getting taken down a peg or two. He decides not to think about the fact that either way, the rest of the room will win.
He picks up his cards, rearranging them carefully and it’s only the long hours he’s spent at the Triad table that keeps him from jumping up and down.
He’s got four on a run. It’s an excellent hand and in almost any other game against any other player it would be a sure winner. But this isn’t some other game and Kara sure as Hades isn’t just some other player. Still, he’s got a fighting chance and he’s not going to blow it. He looks down at his depleted stake and throws some cubits into the pot, just enough to keep it interesting but not so much that she’ll suspect he’s got a good hand. She calls.
“How many?”
“One.”
That earns him a raised eyebrow, which he meets with a bland look. Her eyes narrow in suspicion but she lets it pass. She slides him the requested card.
“And the dealer takes two.”
Lee retrieves his card, placing it alongside the others and for one dizzying instant, his heart stops beating.
Maybe the Gods haven’t forsaken him, or maybe they’re every bit as tired of hearing Kara crow and gloat as he is. He stares at the cards and blinks, slowly, making sure that this isn’t an hallucination.
When he looks again, the cards remain the same.
Holy Hera. Kara dealt him five on a run.
Lee tries - and fails - to calculate the odds of drawing such a hand but he suspects his failure has more to do with the eight - or was it nine? - glasses of the Chief’s homebrew than any mathematical deficiency on his part. What he does know is that the odds are extraordinarily high, almost impossibly so.
He is so going to kick Kara’s ass but good and the best part is that she’s the one who dealt him the cards to do it.
Lee shoots her a discreet look over the tops of his cards. She’s studying hers intently but she glances up when she feels his gaze on her and sends him a look that’s equal parts arrogance and defiance.
Oh yes, she’s going down.
“Your bid, Apollo.”
He studies the severely depleted pile at his elbow and knows there’s only one option. He pushes everything to the center of the table.
Kara’s eyes widen, then narrow. She knows that Lee rarely goes all in unless he’s got a killer hand. He’s tipped his hand, but then, what choice did he have?
“I see you and I raise you three hundred,” she says, smirking as she drops the cubits to the table one by one, the clink of metal like the sound of nails being hammered in his coffin.
He sighs. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t expecting that gambit. Starbuck has never been a gracious loser, but she’s not a gracious winner either. Her philosophy has always been “why just win when you can annihilate your opponent?” It’s one of the things that makes her such a brilliant pilot in a combat situation. It’s also one of the reasons that she has so many admirers but so few real friends aboard Galactica. Humiliation isn’t so much fun when you’re on the receiving end and Kara has never been good at recognizing how far is too far; restraint is not one of Kara’s virtues.
“Well, that’s it then. I’m out,” he says with a shrug. He lays his cards down but before he can rise from the table. Kara reaches over and rests her hand on his wrist.
“Not so fast.”
He frowns. “I’m tapped out, Kara, as you should well know since every last cubit I own is currently sitting either in that pot or in the pile in front of you. I don’t have anything left to bet.”
“What about a forfeit?”
Lee’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“A forfeit. You know, I take a favor in lieu of cash. If you win you don’t owe me anything.”
“And if I lose?”
Kara shrugs. “Then you owe me a favor of my choosing.”
Lee can hear the chorus of surprised sounds coming from the other pilots. He’d been so caught up in the game he’d forgotten them entirely. Things have just gotten interesting from their standpoint. They’ve gotten extraordinarily dangerous from his, however.
This is potentially very bad. This would be far, far worse than simply losing all his money. He knows Kara well enough to know that she will make him pay in ways he’d never imagine if she wins. The very fact that she’s offering him this chance is proof that she’s sure she’s going to win. But then Kara never really considers the possibility that she could lose.
In his head he ticks off all the reasons why this is a bad idea but his gaze drifts to the cards still resting face down in front of him. He’s got five on a run. It’s a beauty of a hand, a winning hand. A frakking gift from the Gods. Lee tries to calculate the chances that Kara is holding full colors, the only hand that could beat his. Again his analytical skills fail him, but he knows that it’s huge, astronomical even.
It’s stupid, amazingly stupid, but he wants the win so bad he can taste it. More than anything he wants to wipe that smirk off her face; he wants her to know just once what it feels like to be outwitted and outmaneuvered. To be outplayed at your own game. Maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s childish, but he doesn’t care. He’s taking her down.
She’s watching him intently, a cocky grin on her face. “Well?”
“I accept…”
Her grin broadens.
He raises a finger before she can respond. “…on two conditions.”
“Which are?”
“First, whatever the forfeit is, no regulations get broken. I’m not going to end up in hack over a stupid wager.”
“Done.”
Lee’s eyes narrow. That was a little too easy. She’s definitely got something in mind and whatever it is, he knows he’s not going to like it. But he’s plotted his course and he’s not about to back down now.
“Second, that it doesn’t involve public humiliation.”
“Aww, Lee. Would I do something like that?” she asks wide-eyes, her voice sugary sweet.
A memory from flight school involving being dressed in his underwear singing the Colonial anthem in the middle of the quad at dawn on Commencement day comes to mind. “In a heartbeat.”
Kara’s lip juts out in a pout.
Lee snorts. “Don’t even try it, Thrace. I didn’t buy your sweet and innocent act at the Academy and I sure as Hades ain’t buying it now.”
She grins, her face lighting up with glee. “All right, all right. No public humiliation. Deal?”
She extends her hand and Lee eyes it for a heartbeat or two. This is his last chance to escape but he knows he won’t take it. He folds her hand in his. “Deal.”
“You guys are all witnesses,” she says, addressing the flock of pilots who watch with eager eyes. “CAG took the bet fair and square.”
“I’m not gonna back out, Kara,” he says with more than a little heat in his voice. He’s not sure whether its her confidence or the implication that he might try to welch on a bet that irritates him more. “I always pay my debts.”
She nods and he thinks he sees something like apology flash across her face before it vanished behind her brazen mask of arrogance.
“All right, Lee. Show me what you got.”
He turns the cards over with a flourish and a grin. “Five on a run.”
The room fills with the sound of appreciative noises and even a few whistles of admiration. He can feel the excitement rising around him at the possibility that Starbuck had been outplayed -literally - at her own game.
She’s nodding, her expression grave. “That’s a terrific hand. No wonder you wanted to see this through.”
His smile widens.
“Pity it’s still not good enough.” She flips her cards over. “Full colors.”
Lee stares at the cards, his gut twisting with numb shock. Sure enough, there it is, the one and only hand that could beat his. Full frakking colors.
He drops his head into his hands with a groan. Looks like the Gods have forsaken him after all.
[][][]
As expected, Kara seems to be in no hurry to collect on their wager. Quite the contrary; one day bleeds into the next and then into another with absolutely no mention whatsoever of the forfeit. It’s almost as if it doesn’t exist. He could wish.
The only sign that something’s going on is Kara’s demeanor. She’s more smug than usual, if such a thing is even possible, and so uncharacteristically, offensively chipper that people begin to shoot wary looks her way, wondering what she’s plotting.
Lee knows the feeling.
He wonders what she’d say if he pointed out how very predictable she is. He suspects she’d be pissed as hell. Kara likes to cultivate a reputation for being brash and erratic. Dangerous. It’s not nearly as true as she’d like to believe. Not by half. And while he would no doubt enjoy the flash of irritation as the observation hit home, he knows she’d make him pay that much more when the time comes. Lee keeps the thought to himself.
As the days progress, so does his apprehension. He knows better than to broach the subject of the forfeit prematurely; it will only make her delay further and encourage her to be more outrageous in her demands. No, part of the fun for Kara is making him sweat. She enjoys leaving him on tenterhooks, waiting -hoping - for him to crack and ask for her to get on with it already, making her victory that much sweeter.
No frakking way is he going to give it to her.
That, at least, is one lesson he’s learned. If he doesn’t rise to the bait, eventually she’ll tire of the waiting game and call in the forfeit.
It won’t be pleasant when she does, of course; it never is. But there’s nothing in the unwritten rules that says Lee has to make things worse by prodding her.
Two weeks pass and still no word from Kara regarding the forfeit, but Lee has neither the time nor the energy to dwell on it. He’s got three pilots down with food poisoning from bad rations, four planes out of service and half a dozen new crises brewing. He barely has time to eat and catch a nap before someone or something else is clamoring for his attention. It’s gotten so bad that he’s beginning to wax nostalgic for the relative peace of those fifteen hour shifts he’d been cursing just weeks before.
But none of that matters now. Lee has eight hours of free time before him and he plans to collapse on to his rack and sleep for as long as the Gods, his shipmates, and various pending disasters permit.
As always, the journey to his rack is painfully slow and halting. First there’s a discussion with the Chief over repairs for his downed birds, followed by a request from Hot Dog and Joker to switch shifts on CAP and a query from Kelly regarding new launch protocol.
He finally manages to escape the flight deck and even gets halfway to the senior officers duty locker before getting waylaid by Doc Cottle about the pilots’ quarterly physical exams. Apparently half of his pilots have yet to report to sick bay for the mandatory examinations and are in danger of getting their flight status summarily revoked. Lee’s not surprised that Kara is a culprit, but he can only smile sheepishly when Cottle points out that the CAG is at the top of the list as well. Cottle lets him escape with a promise to address the issue at the next briefing and to haul Starbuck’s ass as well as his own to sick bay before he sends the marines to do it for them.
Thinking of Kara’s dislike of sick bay, invasive physical exams and the ever cantankerous Cottle, Lee thinks that he may very well end up hauling her down there over his shoulder. He makes a mental note to get his own exam out of the way first. It wouldn’t do for the CAG to get called on being a hypocrite, after all.
The duty locker is blissfully empty when he arrives. He has just enough energy to toe off his boots before sinking down on his bunk. He flings an arm across his eyes to block out the overhead lights, too tired to even pull the curtain closed behind him let alone take off his flight suit.
After so many hours in the cockpit, following on the heels of endless meetings and briefings, it feels good just to stretch out flat on his back and his bunk is almost sinfully inviting despite the thin mattress. What begins as a contented sigh becomes a moan by the time it escapes his lips.
“Well, that’s an interesting sound.”
Exhausted though he is, Lee still jumps a little at the sound of her voice. He raises his arm just enough so he can crack one eye. Kara is leaning against her locker.
“Sleeping,” he says, his eye dropping shut.
“You don’t look like you’re sleeping,” she replies almost matter-of-factly, though Lee catches the edge of humor in her voice.
“I would be if somebody would stop talking.”
“Oh, Lee. I’m hurt. Really.” Her voice is mocking now.
He snorts. “You’ll live.”
She doesn’t reply and Lee thinks that maybe she’s left or maybe, just maybe she’s taken pity on him and has decided to let him sleep in peace.
“Hey, Lee?”
He should be so lucky. Maybe if he ignores her…
“Lee?”
He sighs again, this time in exasperation. “What?”
“I finally decided what I want as my forfeit.”
That gets his attention. He props himself up on his elbows and stares at Kara. Still leaning against her locker, arms crossed over her chest, she looks perfectly at ease, but there’s an intensity in her gaze that belies the careless slouch. He waits, expecting her to chime in with whatever plan she’s cooked up for his humiliation but she just continues to stare at him intently. It’s decidedly unnerving.
“All right. I’ll bite. Whaddya want?”
“I want to watch you get off.”
He stares at her, jaw dropping in shock. Surely she didn’t say what he thought she said. When he tries to speak, his tongue feels oddly clumsy. “Wha…?”
She smiles at him then, a dazzling smile that’s all flashing canines and thinly veiled menace. “I want to watch you get off,” she repeats
“What?” he asks again. Exhaustion is slowing him down, making him stupid and he can’t seem to focus his thoughts, can’t seem to wrap his head around what she said.
Kara gives a soft laugh. “I know you’re kind of uptight, Apollo, but surely even you’re familiar with the concept.”
He rolls his eyes, exasperation buying him a little time while his mind races in circles. “Of course, I’m familiar with the concept. I just fail to see why it’s figuring into this conversation. Or any conversation for that matter.”
Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “You are such a prude sometimes. It’s simple. We have a wager. You gave me a forfeit and I’m calling it in.”
“But…this?”
“Why not?” she replies with a shrug. “There’s a distinct lack of porn in the Fleet these days. A girl needs to get her entertainment where she can.”
“I’m not going to” - masturbate, wank, jerk off, spank the monkey, lube the cylinder, terms both clinical and crude flash through his head - “do that for you.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Why does he even have to explain this to her?
“We made a bet, fair and square, Lee. You said you’d see it through,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest her voice brooking no denial.
“But this…”
Kara holds up a hand. “You accepted the wager, Lee, of your own volition.”
She moves closer, bracing her hip against the edge of the table occupying the space between his bunk and hers. “You set two conditions: the forfeit could only be collected in private and it couldn’t go against regs and I’ve honored both. You can’t get more private than the senior officers’ bunkroom,” she says with a sweep of her arm. “And the last time I checked, getting off wasn’t against regulations, though it would be kind of funny to see Tigh trying to enforce that one,” she adds with a grin.
“So,” Kara says, moving around the table to stand directly in front of his bunk. “It’s your call, Lee. You said you always pay your debts. Well, now it’s time to prove it.”
He stares at her, seeing the cocky smile, the challenging lift of her chin, the confident lines of her body and there’s no denying it: he’s trapped, but good. He’d known going in that if he lost, she’d make him pay. Kara is nothing if not creative in her tortures, but this goes far beyond anything he would ever have imagined percolating in that devious, twisted brain of hers.
She cocks an eyebrow at him in silent query.
Lee sighs. “You’re a pervert, you know that, right?”
Her grin stretches. “And your point is…?”
“If anyone finds out…” he warns.
“We made a deal. No public humiliation. The hatch is dogged. No one is coming in. What happens here, stays here. Agreed?”
What can he say? Either he honors his word or he doesn’t and as much as this whole scenario unnerves him, the latter option isn’t one.
“Agreed.”
“Excellent!” she crows before hopping up on the table to give herself a prime view. She swings her legs back and forth, all restless motion and eager anticipation, like a little girl waiting for the recess bell to ring. It’s an image he can do without under the circumstances, but apparently his mind just loves frakking with him.
“So,” he begins, rubbing suddenly sweaty palms against his thighs. “How do we do this?”
“I thought you said you were already familiar with the concept. Do you need me to draw you a diagram or something?” Her eyes widen as she asks the question.
“Kara.” He knows there’s no mistaking the note of warning in his voice.
She takes the hint. “Just start with the basics. Strip down, stretch out, get comfortable then take the Arrow of Apollo…”
“Arrow of Apollo?”
Kara shrugs. “Fine. Take the Deputy CAG, or Wee Lee or whatever in the frak you call your dick in hand and do what comes naturally. It’s not exactly rocket science, Lee.”
“Wee Lee?” He tries to keep his irritation from bleeding through, but he can still hear it in his voice and knows that she must have heard it as well.
Kara rolls her eyes. “Honestly, you men are so touchy when it comes to your equipment. You can name it Emperor Palladius the Magnificent if that helps you get off. I don’t care about the how, just results.”
She gives him a pointed look.
“So get to it.”
Lee licks his lips, a nervous habit he’s never been able to break, keenly aware of her eyes on him.
“You’re serious about this?” he asks. It’s a futile, last ditch effort but he has to try.
“Lee,” she says, exasperated but still amused, “the sooner you get down to it, the sooner it’ll all be over. You don’t want one of your fellow pilots coming back to quarters and pounding on the hatch while you’re mid-wank do you?”
Lee closes his eyes and groans. Dear Lords, could this situation get any more frakked up?
“All right, all right. But I just want to go on record and say that you are one sick frakker, Thrace.”
She laughs, a rich, throaty, exuberant sound. “Duly noted, Adama. Now strip off and get down to business. Unless you need a hand…?”
He studiously ignores her leer. “I’ve been undressing myself for years, thanks.”
“And yet you’re still fully dressed.”
He shakes his head. She’s right; there’s no point in stalling. He agreed to a forfeit and the sooner it’s over the faster he can begin to repress.
Lee turns his back towards her and begins to unfasten his flight suit. He knows it’s silly; Lee isn’t exactly a blushing virgin and he’s never been particularly self-conscious about stripping down in semi-public spaces, but this is different. It feels weird getting undressed in front of her now.
It’s not modesty, per se. There’s no room for those kinds of inhibitions in the military. Between the close quarters and communal living and the snap inspections, you either leave your prudishness at the door or learn to embrace misery. Sooner or later everyone grows to accept skin as a survival tactic. The process may be longer for some, but by the end of flight school, shame is pretty much a thing of the past.
It’s not even that it’s Kara. He’s not showing her anything that she hasn’t seen before and on a near daily basis in the showers or bunkroom. There’s no privacy on a battlestar and in the six months they’ve been stationed together on Galactica she’s had ample opportunity to see every square inch of him and he’s been able to return the favor. It’s not exactly unknown territory. Besides, Lee’s caught enough admiring looks from his fellow pilots - Kara included - to know that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of.
No, he realizes, it’s the fact that she’s staring at him, boldly and with intent. Unspoken rule number one of barracks life is no looking. The occasional sideways glance or quick peek in the communal showers is permissible because, well, people are people and everyone is a little curious. But you don’t look, not intentionally, and you sure as Hades don’t stare. Looking, at best, will get you a fist in the face; at worst, it will earn you some very nasty reprisals from the rest of your bunkmates because not looking is rule number one and barracks justice can be a real bitch.
But Kara is staring at him now, her gaze practically searing into his back. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that she’s smirking and he certainly doesn’t want to see the look of smug satisfaction and triumph that she’ll be wearing. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss or at the very least the last defense against the onset of insanity.
Unzipping his flight suit, he pushes it down over his shoulders, past his hips to slide down around his ankles. He wobbles a bit as he steps out of it and studiously ignores the soft snicker coming from behind him as he steadies himself with a hand against the top bunk. Back still turned to Kara, he pulls his tanks over his head and drops them to the deck. After a moment’s hesitation, he hooks his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs before pulling them off in one quick motion. Thankfully, this time he manages to maintain his balance. Entirely naked, he slides into his bunk and lies down on the mattress.
He lies there for a few moments, staring at the metal slats of the bunk overhead and tries to screw up his courage. Maybe even work up some modicum of arousal.
He’s not sure he can really go through with it. Maybe Kara finds this scenario hot, but exhibitionism has never been his thing. Well, not as a sexual kink anyway. He closes his eyes and tries to find some spark of desire, but comes up empty. He’s too aware of Kara’s eyes on his body, too aware of her expectations. He’s never suffered from performance anxiety before, but then he’s never had to perform quite like this before, either.
“You could try pretending I’m not here,” she says, her voice intruding upon his thoughts.
He bites back his reply which would be somewhere along the lines of that’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since you got here.
“Or you could pretend I’m someone else, maybe,” she suggests, her voice honey smooth but tinged with amusement.
He turns his head to look at her for the first time since he’d begun undressing. As expected she’s grinning like a loon and there’s a manic gleam in her eye and something else that he doesn’t quite recognize and doesn’t really want to.
“How about Helo?”
“Helo?!”
Kara shrugs and her smile turns predatory. “Aww, c’mon Lee. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed him. I’ve seen you checking him out in the showers.”
Lee makes a choked sound that’s something between a laugh and a horrified gasp. “I have not!”
She tilts her head as she studies him. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”
“Pity,” she replies with a shrug. “Helo’s hot. And he’s really good with his hands…”
Lee shoots her a questioning look and Kara doesn’t miss a beat.
“…you can tell by the way he handles a screwdriver when he’s doing repairs to his Raptor. You sure you don’t want me to get Helo for you, Lee?” She’s definitely teasing now.
“Quite sure.” Lee’s eyes narrow. “You’ve got way too many perverted fantasies in that head of yours, Thrace. I’m not gonna make out with Helo just so you can get your rocks off. Forget it.”
“Damn.” Her face falls for a moment and then she’s grinning at him again. “Oh well. A girl can always dream, can’t she?”
“You can dream all you want, Kara, but next time, leave me out of it,” he says with a shudder. Gods he’s going to need a drink after this. Hell, a whole bottle probably won’t be enough to erase the unwanted visuals Kara has so gleefully planted in his head.
“Well, for there to be a next time, there needs to be a first time and I gotta say that so far I’m less than impressed. You told me you were familiar with the concept, Lee, but I’m thinking that maybe you need a refresher course on the basic mechanics.” Kara’s smile turns mischievous. “My offer still stands.”
He shoots her a confused look.
“To lend a hand.” By way of illustration Kara jerks her hand back and forth, the motion and intent unmistakable. “You know, just to get you started.”
Lee can feel his cheeks burning. He’s half tempted to take her up on it just to see if she’d follow through, but he knows better than to give in to the impulse. This is Kara, after all, and she never backs down from a challenge. She’d do it, all right, then give him grief about it until the end of time. He can practically hear the jokes now. Hey, Lee! What’s the sound of one hand wanking? Oh, wait, you don’t know, do you?.
He closes his eyes and wonders if it’s possible to die from sheer mortification. He suspects he’s going to find out before this whole wretched scenario plays itself out.
“No thanks, Kara. I can handle it.”
Another careless shrug. “Suit yourself, Apollo.”
He closes his eyes and just breathes, trying to clear his mind from distractions like Kara sitting there smirking at him and Helo and his screwdriver. He grimaces and has to start all over again.
“You know, Lee. I didn’t expect this to take quite so long,” she pipes up, making a show of glancing at her watch. “Maybe I should make a quick dash to the mess to grab a bite since it looks like it may be a while ‘til the floorshow starts.”
“Well, if someone didn’t interrupt constantly, maybe it wouldn’t take so long!” he snaps back.
“You don’t have to be so snippy about it, Lee. I mean if you can’t get it up…”
Lee grinds his teeth and counts to ten. Slowly. He reminds himself that it’s against regs to throttle a fellow officer, no matter how much she deserves it. He swore he wasn’t going to end up in hack over this stupid forfeit and Gods damn it, he’s going to keep that promise.
“Kara?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the frak up or I swear to the Gods I’m going to gag you and tie you to that table!”
“Ohhh! Lee!” she replies, eyes wide with feigned shock. “I had no idea you were into that sort of stuff! Damn! Now I really wish Helo was here!”
“I’m not kidding, Kara. Shut. Up.”
“Gods, Lee. When did you lose your sense of humor?”
“About the time you popped in here interrupting the first rack time I’ve had in two days with this stupid frakking forfeit. So, if you want me to fulfill my obligation, shut the frak up, otherwise this is officially over.” His voice is a little too vehement and he knows it.
“You are such a drama queen.”
“Kara.”
She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll be good.”
Lee snorts. “That’ll be a first.”
She glares at him but Lee can see the way the corners of her mouth are twitching upwards. Well, it’s nice to know that one of them has managed to keep a sense of humor in this frakked-up situation. Pity it’s not him.
Lee closes his eyes again and once more tries to clear his mind and relax. He breathes slowly, in and out, in and out, willing his whole body to go lax. This time Kara keeps her mouth shut and Lee can pretend he’s alone in his rack, his personal pain in the ass-cum-voyeur long gone.
Lee rifles through his memory and tries to conjure up a suitable fantasy. He opts for the stunning redhead he’d seen on his last shore leave on Cloud Nine a few weeks ago, back before things got so frantic. She’d been beautiful, all long legs and ivory skin with auburn hair falling to her shoulders in heavy waves and a slinky dress cut in a way that left little to the imagination. Unfortunately, she’d already been engaged in conversation with another man and from the way her body angled towards his, Lee knew she was no longer available.
Of course, the beauty of a fantasy was that it didn’t have to adhere to reality. So Lee can cheerfully rewrite the memory: when he arrives she’s alone at the bar and quite amenable to his advances. They leave together and head up to her room, one with a real bed. He takes her in his arms just inside the door, kissing her thoroughly. She responds with satisfying fervor.
Lee can feel a gentle, insistent heat gathering low in his belly and his right hand slides slowly down his body until it reaches his cock. He’s growing hard, his flesh heavy and blood warm in his hand as he holds it in a loose grip.
The redhead takes Lee’s hand and leads him over to the bed. She places her hand flat on his chest and gives him a gentle shove that tumbles him laughing to the bed. Lee reaches out to grab her hand and pull her down along with him, but she slips from his grasp, a wicked smile on her beautiful face. Lee grins helplessly back at her.
Still smiling at him, she slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders and it flutters to floor. Dressed only in a lacy bra and panties, she carefully steps over the puddle of blue silk, walks to a small table and spreads herself across the surface like a Colonial Day feast.
Lee’s smile grows wider and he begins to rise up from the bed.
And that’s when the scene suddenly changes.
The sumptuous stateroom on Cloud Nine vanishes, replaced by the all too familiar dull metal walls and double bunks of the senior officers’ duty locker. Lee blinks, confused, but the scene doesn’t change back. Even worse, however, is the fact that the redhead has disappeared and in her stead is none other than Kara Thrace. No lacy underwear, of course, just regulation tanks and a pair of plain gray cotton briefs. Like the redhead, Kara’s sprawled over the top of the table; unlike the redhead, however, Kara is bound and gagged. Her head is turned towards him and she’s staring at him, not with the fear or anger as he might expect, but with something akin to excitement.
Lee simply lies there propped up on his elbows and gawps at the sight of a bound and gagged Kara Thrace. It’s unexpected and unsettling, and, he realizes as his cock gives a sudden twitch, frakking hot.
He groans and drops back against the mattress. Dear Gods, when did he become a complete pervert?
It’s Kara’s fault, of course. She’s the one who started him thinking along this path in the first place. He was being completely honest when he said this wasn’t his sort of thing. Not the voyeurism and exhibitionism she demanded as her forfeit and certainly not the kinky bondage scenario he’s thinking of now.
Lee’s not into that, never has been. He likes his partners to be active participants in the proceedings. He likes interaction and enthusiasm, likes the feel of hands and lips, and teeth and tongue on his body. The thought of rendering someone helpless and then taking them like that does absolutely nothing for him. Usually.
He doesn’t know why his mind has conjured up this particular image of Kara. Well, apart from the fact that his own mind hates him. A lot. Lee can still see her in his fantasy, stretched out and bound. Lee considers the image for a moment but still feels no desire to tear off her clothes and frak her.
As fantasies go, this one really blows.
And not in the good way.
His imaginary gaze drifts down her body to her face. She’s gagged with a strip of dark fabric covering the lower half of her face and her eyes are bright and intent. She looks like she wants to say something, but can’t. Immobile and silent, she can only lay there and look at him while he’s free to move, to leave, to sing the Colonial anthem if he so chooses. She can’t respond, can only lay there silently.
Silent…
Gods, when was the last time Kara was actually silent? The only answer he can come up with is never.
He eyes her contemplatively and she stares back. Silently. For once she isn’t yammering on. There’s none of her typical bragging and boasting, none of her bitching and whining and cursing at the top of her lungs. No off color jokes or inappropriate comments. No relentless teasing or mockery. No telling of embarrassing stories he’d just as soon leave buried. No snickering during his briefings. No insults, no ‘sirs’ bitten out between clenched teeth. No endless questioning of his orders as if he’s a frakking moron who can’t find his ass with both hands, No smirking…
Lee feels his cock give a sharp twitch and his hand wraps around his erection. He’s hard, almost painfully hard and he lies there for a moment and lets the implications of his reaction sink in.
Apparently he really is a sick frakker, but not because wants to do a bound and helpless Starbuck. No, apparently, he just wants her to shut the frak up.
Who knew that a silent Kara was such a turn on?
Huh.
Apparently you really do learn something new every day and right now, Lee just wants to enjoy it.
He locks gazes with the fantasy Kara, his lips stretching into a challenging smile before twisting into a full blown smirk that she can’t match. His cock gives another appreciative twitch.
Lee tightens his grip and begins to move his hand in earnest, sliding it up and down the length of his erection. His strokes are slow and even. There’s no need to rush; he wants to savor this for as long as he can. It’s been a long time, probably too long since he’s actually had the time or inclination to jack off. That should worry him, he knows, but he’s not going to think about that, or anything else, until later.
He settles into a lazy rhythm, up, down, up, down, a quick squeeze to the base of his cock that draws a stuttering sigh from open lips. His left hand comes up to skim across his belly, the tips of his fingers grazing up along his sternum then down again. His skin feels flushed and feverish to the touch and when his thumb brushes against his nipple, the flesh reacts at once, puckering into a taut nub. He brushes against the other nipple. It contracts as well, eliciting another breathy sigh.
Lee shifts on the mattress, rolling his shoulders and arching his back as that tingle of arousal pricks nerves that have been slumbering for far too long, shocking them into awareness. He lifts his left hand to his lips and draws his tongue across his palm, wetting the skin before switching hands.
He grasps his cock in his left hand and pulls at himself. Spit slick, it glides easily through the tunnel formed by his fingers. It’s good and when he tightens his grip and tugs more forcefully at his erection that feels even better.
He lets the fingers of his free hand dance along his chest, shifting lower, lower until they encounter the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. He lets them slip lower still to where his balls hang, taking them in his hand. Lee can feel the heavy weight of them nestled in the palm of his right hand. He rolls them slowly in his hand and gives them a squeeze. This time it’s a moan that escapes his parted lips.
He hears an answering sound, muted and muffled behind cloth and when he turns his head he finds Kara watching him with eager, hungry eyes. He can see the way her gaze tracks the motions of his left hand on his cock, up, down, up, down. When he stops, so do her eyes; when he begins again, her eyes begin to shift back and forth again like a spectator at a game of netball. He feels another jolt of heat low in his belly; her smoldering gaze is like another set of hands upon his body.
But there aren’t any other hands, merely his own, stroking his erection, brushing over his body. He knows what he likes - Lords know he’s done this enough over the years - he knows the rhythm that works best, knows the exact amount of pressure to apply to his strokes. He knows when to give his cock a quick squeeze and when to press the heel of his hand against his balls. It’s all familiar, but now it feels different, new and exciting and slightly dangerous and a whole lot of twisted as Kara watches him with all the intensity of a predator lurking in the shadows. He moans then, his legs sliding apart and for a brief moment his hand falters, rhythm lost, before he finds it again.
The movement of his hand accelerates. Lee tries to slow down but heat pools in his belly and a familiar tightness gathers in his balls and he knows that he’s close now, too close to put on the brakes. He bends his legs and plants his feet flat against the mattress as his hips jerk upwards. His hand tightens around his cock and he moans at the sensation.
Lee locks gazes with his fantasy Kara once more as the movement of his hand becomes rougher and more urgent. Kara’s eyes are wide, nearly black with arousal, and Lee’s sure he can hear soft, needy sounds escaping past the gag. She’s moving as well now, humping against the edge of the table, writhing along the top like a snake as her body seeks the stimulation she needs to get off. She strains helplessly against her restraints, but to no avail. Lee smiles, no, he smirks, at the knowledge that only one of them will be getting off and it isn’t going to be her.
Oh yes, this is so very good.
Lee continues to jerk himself off, staring at Kara the entire time. The sound of her whimpers and growls of frustration fill his ears and that’s even hotter than her eyes on his body. His hand moves frantically, rough to the point of pain but he’s close now, so frakking close and he can’t slow down, doesn’t want to slow down, he just needs, Gods, he needs to get off right frakking now…
Climax slams through his body with the sudden force of a Viper launch. He arches off the bed, heels digging into the mattress as he comes, ejaculate covering his belly and chest in sticky spurts. He clamps his mouth shut to smother his cry of exultation, but he can’t entirely bite back on the loud moan that escapes past clenched teeth. For a long breathless moment, his body is taut as a bowstring while pleasure rushes through him, then he collapses back on the bed in a boneless heap.
Lee lies there for a time, heart pounding, lungs burning while echoes of pleasure bounce along his nerve endings and lights continue to dance behind closed lids.
When he opens his eyes again, the fantasy Kara has vanished. Her real life counterpart is sitting atop the table staring at him in what can only be described as shock: eyes wide, jaw slack, expression a little dazed. Her cheeks, he notices, are very pink.
Lee cocks an eyebrow at her, a small smile tugging at his lips while he basks in languor.
Kara runs her tongue along her lips before speaking.
“Damn, Lee. I didn’t think you’d really go through with it. That was…” she trails off, eyes skittering to the side before returning to his face.
“Really hot?” he suggests, smile shifting to full blown smirk at her obvious perturbation. He wonders if he should tell her how cute she is when she’s flustered.
“Unexpected,” she rejoins, but the intensity of her gaze tells him he’s right. He waggles her brows at her and nearly laughs out loud when her blush deepens. Oh, he could get some serious mileage out of this. Very few things throw Kara Thrace off stride and he’s just discovered one of them. Fortunately, Lee’s gracious - and prudent - enough to let her slide. It doesn’t matter; they both know the truth and that’s enough for Lee.
He reaches down and fishes for his discarded tanks and uses them to wipe down his chest and belly. “So, the debt is paid now, right?”
“Yeah,” she says, sounding almost distracted. “Just one thing…”
Lee balls up the dirty tanks and tosses them in the bottom corner of his bunk, too tired to even bother tossing them in the laundry bin. Exhaustion and a pleasant post-coital buzz are already settling in, slowing him down. “What?”
“What were you thinking of? You know, while you were…” Kara makes a vague hand gesture and Lee can’t help but grin. Hell of a time for her to turn all shy and prim on him.
“I’m not telling,” he says, sliding his boxer briefs back on before collapsing back on his bunk
“Awww, c’mon, Lee.”
“Nope.” He smothers a yawn behind his hand as he stretches out, his entire body heavy with lassitude. Sleep is beckoning and it’s an effort to keep up his end of the conversation.
“Please?”
“No way,” he says, grinning dopily. “Next time you should remember to make it a condition of the forfeit.” He raises a finger, cutting her off before she can answer. “And no, there won’t be a next time. You want porn? Ask Joker if you can borrow one of his skin mags. Or better yet, stick to you own twisted imagination. This was my one and only performance in Starbuck’s Personal Porn Theatre. Hope you enjoyed it ‘cause I am now officially retired.”
“You’re no fun,” she says pouting, but Lee can see she’s trying not to laugh.
“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. His eyelids are starting to droop but he forces them to stay open. He’s having too much fun to sleep yet. “I’d say that adorable blush you’re sporting says otherwise.”
That earns him a glare. “I do not blush.”
“Sure you don’t, Starbuck. It’s kind of cute, actually,” he can’t help the taunt.
“Shut it, Adama, before I shut it for you.”
An image of Kara gagged into silence flashes in his head and he can’t help but chuckle.
Kara frowns. “What’s so funny?”
Lee waves a hand in her direction as he stretches out on his bunk. “Nothing, Starbuck. Nothing at all.”
Her eyes narrow, obviously not buying, but short of calling him a liar to his face, there isn’t much she can do about it. “Right.”
He chuckles again, shaking his head a little before his mouth stretches into a jaw cracking yawn. “Sorry.”
Kara’s expression softens. “Get some rest, Apollo. I want you wide awake when I kick your ass at the triad table.”
“Uh huh,” he says but the words are a little slurred in his ears and his eyes are starting to slide shut again. He rolls over on his side, facing the wall, too tired, yet again, to pull the curtain. At least this time he’s not wearing his flight suit.
Lee sighs as he burrows into the mattress. He feels a blanket pulled over his shoulder and he can hear the faint metallic screech of the curtain being drawn. He knows if he opened his eyes he’d see nothing but shadows. That’s all right, though. He’s comfortable and warm and his body feels looser and more relaxed than it has in days and he’s drifting off before he even realizes.
Huh.
Maybe the forfeit wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
The last thing he sees before he drifts off to sleep entirely is Kara, still bound and gagged. She winks at him and he’s certain she’s smirking under the gag, but this time Lee just smiles back.
Finis