Shadow on the Pattern, Part 4
Shadow on the Pattern
A Battlestar Galactica/Babylon 5 crossover
by Lizardbeth
Sam/Kara, Rated ADULT
This part: ~ 2000 words,
Previous parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, lyssie, again! Some more!
In the team's quarters on the station, there were two beds, one in each bedroom, and one long couch in the sitting area. After a moment of all of them staring at each other, trying to figure out sleeping arrangements, Kara grabbed Sam's shoulder and steered him toward one of the bedrooms. She glanced back at the other three, "Figure it out for yourselves. We'll be in here. Don't bother us without a really good reason."
"Or what, Captain?" Costanza teased, and she glared at him.
"Trust me, Lieutenant, you don't want to find out," Gaeta said, and his tone was too dry for Kara to call him on it, but she knew he meant it. Her gaze flickered to him and away. Damn him - he should be just as pissed at Barolay - she'd been there too.
She turned away from him, pushing it out of her mind, and she shoved at Sam's shoulder again to make him move toward the door. He didn't complain, or even say anything until he called good night over his shoulder at the doorway. Barolay called back a cheerful mocking, "Have fun!"
"We will," Kara said and toggled the switch to close the door. The translucent panel hissed closed and the sound of Costanza talking abruptly fell to an indistinguishable murmur.
Halfway between the bed and the door, Sam turned. He lifted his eyebrows, and prompted with a grin, "So? Going to have your wicked way with me alone?"
"I am so sick of talking," she muttered and pulled her civilian shirt off. Her double tanks were underneath, and she saw the way his gaze dropped down, tracing her dog tag chain down her chest, and his smile faded for something not so brilliant, but far more warming.
"Like what you see, Mister Secretary?" she asked and put a bit more sway in her hips to join him.
"Always," he admitted easily and caught her around the waist with both hands, to pull her snugly into his body. It always felt so right, pressed up against him, and it made her fingers tingle with the need to touch all that body in front of her. "Missed you," he murmured and bent to kiss her.
That didn't require any response besides the obvious: her mouth against his and her hands on his shoulders, sliding up the muscles of his neck and behind to push her fingers into his hair and keep him where he was.
His big frakkin hands spanned her waist and down her hips, to lift her up on her toes and more firmly against him.
She pushed into the kiss, mouth open to him, pressed together and her tongue touching his, wanting to pull him into her as much as she could.
"Sam," she told him when he broke free to kiss her cheek and the side of her neck and she pushed at him lightly. "Clothes."
"I know," he complained, "You have too many." He grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it up over her head. She pushed her own boots and pants out of the way, nearly forgetting in her haste to take the boots off first so the pant legs didn't get stuck.
She was down to her underwear when she realized he hadn't moved at all, and was standing there, watching her undress. "Sam!"
"I think I need help," he said, making a silly forlorn face and plucking at the bottom of his shirt so pathetically she had to laugh.
"Oh you need help all right," she muttered, rolling her eyes, but went to strip off his shirt. It wasn't as if she didn't want to, after all, and this way she got to pull the shirt back, trapping his arms behind his head with the shirt over his face. "Don't move," she ordered him.
He let her, answering with just a touch of mockery in his breathless acknowledgment, "Yes, Captain Thrace."
She couldn't deny that seeing him standing half-naked in the middle of the floor, his hands over his head stretching his torso up tall and lean, was making burning tingle start up between her thighs. And her tag dangling on his chest made her lick her lips with the need to kiss right where it hung.
Her fingers tugged on it lightly, bringing him nearer. "So glad I gave it back." She leaned into him and whispered, "It makes me want to frak you into the floor."
She sensed, more than felt, the shudder roll through him. "Oh yeah?" he murmured back, "Then what are you waiting for?"
Of their own accord, her fingers sought his skin, dragging down his chest and ribs and stomach, loving the way his breath caught and his abdominals tightened under her touch. She opened his pants and let them fall to the floor. "Step out." He did, but when he moved his hands, as if to free himself from the shirt, she grabbed his hands, "No, stop."
Patiently he waited, while she stripped off her panties and then tugged his undershorts off. She smirked to see that little Sammy Junior was already stirring for her. Then she shoved with both hands on his bare chest and he stumbled backward, falling onto the bed with a complaining cry of her name. But she scrambled after him, sitting across his waist and leaning down to kiss him through the shirt. It took a moment to find his mouth under there, and another moment before they wet it enough to really kiss, but Kara bit his lip, enjoying the chance to frustrate him with his hands still caught above his head.
Stretching out on top of him, she wriggled her hips and slid against him, the brush of skin not nearly as good as the heady of rush of power, knowing that his body was reacting to her movements. She could feel his arousal growing, and she parted his legs with her feet and moved until she felt him right where she wanted it. "You feel so good."
He pulled the shirt off and grinned at her, fingers eagerly skimming as much as he could reach. Then, with startling quickness he rolled them over to kneel above her. "C'mon, baby, it's been a long time. Games later, all right?"
Fingers teased at her breasts until he lowered his head to pull her nipples with his lips and lick the tips with long strokes, each time making a little charge go through her. His weight settled between her thighs, keeping her from squirming, and she wanted him to move. "Thought you said no games," she said, cursing herself for the catch in her voice, grabbing his shoulders in retaliation. "Let's go, Anders."
"I don't know, maybe I should check if you're really ready," he teased, and his free hand reached between them. Fingers slid into her wetness, parting her lips, and she started to ache with need. The need was only heightened when he pushed those fingers deep - her back arched and her nails dug into his skin.
"Oh frak," she hissed. "I'm ready. Come on, Sam. You know what to do."
He did, and so he didn't hurry, content to thrust his fingers inside her and pull out and stroke her swollen clit until she was gasping. Only after a first climax shook her, he took his hand away to kneel up and pull on his erection himself, squeezing himself to firm and ready. She watched avidly, licking her lips with a hunger that was all body and emotion and desire. Then moments later he eased into her, filled her and her feet were around his back... and he was frakking her. She coaxed him onward, harder and faster, with her voice and her hands, rising to meet him.
"Gods, Sam, gods, don't stop," but the rush was too much to form words after that. The pressure grew inside her, need crawling up her spine, until it came apart with a blaze of color behind her eyes.
As she recovered her breath, she watched him as it hit him too - his whole body stiffened, straining deep inside her, and the little gasp he let out between his teeth made her clench up inside. Then he loosened up, bending down to kiss her with that feverish need he always had after he'd come, panting for breath. Then with a sigh, he kissed her cheek and shoulder, and shifted as if to move off. She tightened her grip, keeping him where he was. He was heavy, but warm, and she wanted to remember this moment, and keep it tucked in the corner of her mind when he was gone.
"It's hard to believe Earth is so close," she murmured, toying with the sweaty ends of his hair.
He didn't move, answering softly, "It's hard to believe Earth is real."
"And all these aliens… It's not what I expected."
He shook his head against her shoulder and snorted lightly. "I've tried not to expect anything since Caprica went up in ash. Makes living a lot more bearable." He kissed her collarbone and he sighed. "It's hard not to expect things out of this place though. I think Commander Sinclair wants to help us, and I really hope we're not bringing the Cylons down on them."
She chuckled. "Did you see some of those ships out there? The power of this station? I hope the Cylons come -- because they're going to kick the Cylons' ass. I only hope we're there to watch."
He raised his eyes to hers shaking his head. "'Watch'? When has Kara Thrace ever sat back and watched a battle?"
She snickered. "The same day Samuel T. Anders became a politician, maybe? Secretary of State for the Twelve Colonies, no less."
He smiled, but she saw the way his gaze shifted away, darkening in doubt. "It's a long way from the C-Bucs. Believe me, I know."
One hand caressed down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. "We're here, we're safe, and you're taking the commander to the fleet tomorrow. Which is a hell of a lot more than Roslin expects, I'm sure. So, relax."
"I don't like leaving you and Barolay here," he admitted after a moment. "So many things could happen … you could get stuck here."
"Do they have alcohol and guns and ships?" she asked, trying to lighten things up, and he nodded, with a laugh. "Well, then I'll be fine. Worry about our new friends, not me."
"I'll still worry about you," he murmured, and moved her hair off her cheek gently, before he kissed her again.
With his mouth on hers, she didn't have to find words of her own. But she wrapped an arm around him and was glad for his familiarity amidst all the strangeness, as they sank into sleep.
*
Something woke Kara. Her eyes shot open and instantly she was alert, wondering what it had been.
Almost immediately she realized Sam was making noise. He wasn't snoring, but it was more than just breathing. She turned over, about to elbow him into either wakefulness or silence, but held back. He was still sleeping, curling his large frame into a ball as if he'd gotten so used to her rack he'd forgotten how to stretch out.
At first she thought he might be having a nightmare. Sam wasn't as prone to them as she was, but he had his share. But this time he didn't sound upset - he was muttering in broken phrases under his breath, and sounded as if he was talking to someone. Kara frowned, listening, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but catching only her name, before the words became infrequent mumbles.
Then suddenly he cried out wordlessly and flung his arms out, as if to keep something back. His hands would've hit Kara in the face if she didn't block them, and seize his wrists.
"Sam, wake up!"
He flinched, a shudder running all through his body, and his eyes opened and darted around in confusion before settling on her face. "Kara?"
"You awake?"
"I… think so," he answered hesitantly and when he tugged, she let him go so he could sit up, rub at his eyes and scrub his hands through his hair.
"Bad dream?" she asked, not expecting much of an answer. Sam was even worse about sharing them than she was, usually claiming he didn't remember.
But this time he shook his head and frowned. He pulled up his knees, curving his back, as he stared at the dark transluscent wall that separated this bedroom from the living area. "No, not really. I was talking to Sue-Shaun. She said things…"
"Things?" Kara prompted when he trailed off into silence.
He heaved a breath and shook his head, fiddling with her tag on the cord around his neck. His voice was uncertain, and he looked strangely distant even though he was sitting right next to her. "Strange things. I don't know. It wasn't really her…"
"It was a dream, Sam."
"No. I mean, I know I was asleep, but it felt… different from a dream. It felt real. Solid. It was just me and her, standing right out there." He jerked his chin in the general direction of the living area. "And she said … " he swallowed hard. "You and me … and Sinclair - we three are meant to be here. Because… something dark is coming."
She frowned at him. "Cylons?"
"No. She showed me. I saw it…" he shivered and his eyes held a horror she'd never seen before, looking at something from his nightmare. "So black it was a hole in space," he whispered. "It blocked out the stars. But it felt… it felt evil. And it was coming straight towards us… "
"It was a dream," she repeated tartly, trying to break this odd fixation and ignore the shiver of dread that slithered through her. "From eating real food again and seeing so many weird things. Trust me, it was a dream; I was right here and I could hear you, muttering in your sleep."
"But-- I --" he objected.
She stripped back the blanket with a sudden gesture that startled him into silence, and she leaned closer. "You're awake now. So we could talk about bad dreams, or… we could do something much more fun, since you're going back to the fleet in a few hours…" she trailed off and let her hand do the talking, sliding up his thigh. At least a part of him seemed to be suddenly paying attention to her, and she grinned, letting her hand do the talking some more.
He shook off the mood and gave her a slow smirk. "Oh yeah? I don't remember you doing much of anything earlier."
She put her other hand on his chest and pushed him down. He went willingly, smiling up at her as she climbed on top of him, and when she bent to kiss him, the bad dream seemed forgotten.
On to PART FIVE
It's a wee chapter (well, "wee" for me!). Enjoy!
A Battlestar Galactica/Babylon 5 crossover
by Lizardbeth
Sam/Kara, Rated ADULT
This part: ~ 2000 words,
Previous parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, lyssie, again! Some more!
In the team's quarters on the station, there were two beds, one in each bedroom, and one long couch in the sitting area. After a moment of all of them staring at each other, trying to figure out sleeping arrangements, Kara grabbed Sam's shoulder and steered him toward one of the bedrooms. She glanced back at the other three, "Figure it out for yourselves. We'll be in here. Don't bother us without a really good reason."
"Or what, Captain?" Costanza teased, and she glared at him.
"Trust me, Lieutenant, you don't want to find out," Gaeta said, and his tone was too dry for Kara to call him on it, but she knew he meant it. Her gaze flickered to him and away. Damn him - he should be just as pissed at Barolay - she'd been there too.
She turned away from him, pushing it out of her mind, and she shoved at Sam's shoulder again to make him move toward the door. He didn't complain, or even say anything until he called good night over his shoulder at the doorway. Barolay called back a cheerful mocking, "Have fun!"
"We will," Kara said and toggled the switch to close the door. The translucent panel hissed closed and the sound of Costanza talking abruptly fell to an indistinguishable murmur.
Halfway between the bed and the door, Sam turned. He lifted his eyebrows, and prompted with a grin, "So? Going to have your wicked way with me alone?"
"I am so sick of talking," she muttered and pulled her civilian shirt off. Her double tanks were underneath, and she saw the way his gaze dropped down, tracing her dog tag chain down her chest, and his smile faded for something not so brilliant, but far more warming.
"Like what you see, Mister Secretary?" she asked and put a bit more sway in her hips to join him.
"Always," he admitted easily and caught her around the waist with both hands, to pull her snugly into his body. It always felt so right, pressed up against him, and it made her fingers tingle with the need to touch all that body in front of her. "Missed you," he murmured and bent to kiss her.
That didn't require any response besides the obvious: her mouth against his and her hands on his shoulders, sliding up the muscles of his neck and behind to push her fingers into his hair and keep him where he was.
His big frakkin hands spanned her waist and down her hips, to lift her up on her toes and more firmly against him.
She pushed into the kiss, mouth open to him, pressed together and her tongue touching his, wanting to pull him into her as much as she could.
"Sam," she told him when he broke free to kiss her cheek and the side of her neck and she pushed at him lightly. "Clothes."
"I know," he complained, "You have too many." He grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it up over her head. She pushed her own boots and pants out of the way, nearly forgetting in her haste to take the boots off first so the pant legs didn't get stuck.
She was down to her underwear when she realized he hadn't moved at all, and was standing there, watching her undress. "Sam!"
"I think I need help," he said, making a silly forlorn face and plucking at the bottom of his shirt so pathetically she had to laugh.
"Oh you need help all right," she muttered, rolling her eyes, but went to strip off his shirt. It wasn't as if she didn't want to, after all, and this way she got to pull the shirt back, trapping his arms behind his head with the shirt over his face. "Don't move," she ordered him.
He let her, answering with just a touch of mockery in his breathless acknowledgment, "Yes, Captain Thrace."
She couldn't deny that seeing him standing half-naked in the middle of the floor, his hands over his head stretching his torso up tall and lean, was making burning tingle start up between her thighs. And her tag dangling on his chest made her lick her lips with the need to kiss right where it hung.
Her fingers tugged on it lightly, bringing him nearer. "So glad I gave it back." She leaned into him and whispered, "It makes me want to frak you into the floor."
She sensed, more than felt, the shudder roll through him. "Oh yeah?" he murmured back, "Then what are you waiting for?"
Of their own accord, her fingers sought his skin, dragging down his chest and ribs and stomach, loving the way his breath caught and his abdominals tightened under her touch. She opened his pants and let them fall to the floor. "Step out." He did, but when he moved his hands, as if to free himself from the shirt, she grabbed his hands, "No, stop."
Patiently he waited, while she stripped off her panties and then tugged his undershorts off. She smirked to see that little Sammy Junior was already stirring for her. Then she shoved with both hands on his bare chest and he stumbled backward, falling onto the bed with a complaining cry of her name. But she scrambled after him, sitting across his waist and leaning down to kiss him through the shirt. It took a moment to find his mouth under there, and another moment before they wet it enough to really kiss, but Kara bit his lip, enjoying the chance to frustrate him with his hands still caught above his head.
Stretching out on top of him, she wriggled her hips and slid against him, the brush of skin not nearly as good as the heady of rush of power, knowing that his body was reacting to her movements. She could feel his arousal growing, and she parted his legs with her feet and moved until she felt him right where she wanted it. "You feel so good."
He pulled the shirt off and grinned at her, fingers eagerly skimming as much as he could reach. Then, with startling quickness he rolled them over to kneel above her. "C'mon, baby, it's been a long time. Games later, all right?"
Fingers teased at her breasts until he lowered his head to pull her nipples with his lips and lick the tips with long strokes, each time making a little charge go through her. His weight settled between her thighs, keeping her from squirming, and she wanted him to move. "Thought you said no games," she said, cursing herself for the catch in her voice, grabbing his shoulders in retaliation. "Let's go, Anders."
"I don't know, maybe I should check if you're really ready," he teased, and his free hand reached between them. Fingers slid into her wetness, parting her lips, and she started to ache with need. The need was only heightened when he pushed those fingers deep - her back arched and her nails dug into his skin.
"Oh frak," she hissed. "I'm ready. Come on, Sam. You know what to do."
He did, and so he didn't hurry, content to thrust his fingers inside her and pull out and stroke her swollen clit until she was gasping. Only after a first climax shook her, he took his hand away to kneel up and pull on his erection himself, squeezing himself to firm and ready. She watched avidly, licking her lips with a hunger that was all body and emotion and desire. Then moments later he eased into her, filled her and her feet were around his back... and he was frakking her. She coaxed him onward, harder and faster, with her voice and her hands, rising to meet him.
"Gods, Sam, gods, don't stop," but the rush was too much to form words after that. The pressure grew inside her, need crawling up her spine, until it came apart with a blaze of color behind her eyes.
As she recovered her breath, she watched him as it hit him too - his whole body stiffened, straining deep inside her, and the little gasp he let out between his teeth made her clench up inside. Then he loosened up, bending down to kiss her with that feverish need he always had after he'd come, panting for breath. Then with a sigh, he kissed her cheek and shoulder, and shifted as if to move off. She tightened her grip, keeping him where he was. He was heavy, but warm, and she wanted to remember this moment, and keep it tucked in the corner of her mind when he was gone.
"It's hard to believe Earth is so close," she murmured, toying with the sweaty ends of his hair.
He didn't move, answering softly, "It's hard to believe Earth is real."
"And all these aliens… It's not what I expected."
He shook his head against her shoulder and snorted lightly. "I've tried not to expect anything since Caprica went up in ash. Makes living a lot more bearable." He kissed her collarbone and he sighed. "It's hard not to expect things out of this place though. I think Commander Sinclair wants to help us, and I really hope we're not bringing the Cylons down on them."
She chuckled. "Did you see some of those ships out there? The power of this station? I hope the Cylons come -- because they're going to kick the Cylons' ass. I only hope we're there to watch."
He raised his eyes to hers shaking his head. "'Watch'? When has Kara Thrace ever sat back and watched a battle?"
She snickered. "The same day Samuel T. Anders became a politician, maybe? Secretary of State for the Twelve Colonies, no less."
He smiled, but she saw the way his gaze shifted away, darkening in doubt. "It's a long way from the C-Bucs. Believe me, I know."
One hand caressed down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. "We're here, we're safe, and you're taking the commander to the fleet tomorrow. Which is a hell of a lot more than Roslin expects, I'm sure. So, relax."
"I don't like leaving you and Barolay here," he admitted after a moment. "So many things could happen … you could get stuck here."
"Do they have alcohol and guns and ships?" she asked, trying to lighten things up, and he nodded, with a laugh. "Well, then I'll be fine. Worry about our new friends, not me."
"I'll still worry about you," he murmured, and moved her hair off her cheek gently, before he kissed her again.
With his mouth on hers, she didn't have to find words of her own. But she wrapped an arm around him and was glad for his familiarity amidst all the strangeness, as they sank into sleep.
*
Something woke Kara. Her eyes shot open and instantly she was alert, wondering what it had been.
Almost immediately she realized Sam was making noise. He wasn't snoring, but it was more than just breathing. She turned over, about to elbow him into either wakefulness or silence, but held back. He was still sleeping, curling his large frame into a ball as if he'd gotten so used to her rack he'd forgotten how to stretch out.
At first she thought he might be having a nightmare. Sam wasn't as prone to them as she was, but he had his share. But this time he didn't sound upset - he was muttering in broken phrases under his breath, and sounded as if he was talking to someone. Kara frowned, listening, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but catching only her name, before the words became infrequent mumbles.
Then suddenly he cried out wordlessly and flung his arms out, as if to keep something back. His hands would've hit Kara in the face if she didn't block them, and seize his wrists.
"Sam, wake up!"
He flinched, a shudder running all through his body, and his eyes opened and darted around in confusion before settling on her face. "Kara?"
"You awake?"
"I… think so," he answered hesitantly and when he tugged, she let him go so he could sit up, rub at his eyes and scrub his hands through his hair.
"Bad dream?" she asked, not expecting much of an answer. Sam was even worse about sharing them than she was, usually claiming he didn't remember.
But this time he shook his head and frowned. He pulled up his knees, curving his back, as he stared at the dark transluscent wall that separated this bedroom from the living area. "No, not really. I was talking to Sue-Shaun. She said things…"
"Things?" Kara prompted when he trailed off into silence.
He heaved a breath and shook his head, fiddling with her tag on the cord around his neck. His voice was uncertain, and he looked strangely distant even though he was sitting right next to her. "Strange things. I don't know. It wasn't really her…"
"It was a dream, Sam."
"No. I mean, I know I was asleep, but it felt… different from a dream. It felt real. Solid. It was just me and her, standing right out there." He jerked his chin in the general direction of the living area. "And she said … " he swallowed hard. "You and me … and Sinclair - we three are meant to be here. Because… something dark is coming."
She frowned at him. "Cylons?"
"No. She showed me. I saw it…" he shivered and his eyes held a horror she'd never seen before, looking at something from his nightmare. "So black it was a hole in space," he whispered. "It blocked out the stars. But it felt… it felt evil. And it was coming straight towards us… "
"It was a dream," she repeated tartly, trying to break this odd fixation and ignore the shiver of dread that slithered through her. "From eating real food again and seeing so many weird things. Trust me, it was a dream; I was right here and I could hear you, muttering in your sleep."
"But-- I --" he objected.
She stripped back the blanket with a sudden gesture that startled him into silence, and she leaned closer. "You're awake now. So we could talk about bad dreams, or… we could do something much more fun, since you're going back to the fleet in a few hours…" she trailed off and let her hand do the talking, sliding up his thigh. At least a part of him seemed to be suddenly paying attention to her, and she grinned, letting her hand do the talking some more.
He shook off the mood and gave her a slow smirk. "Oh yeah? I don't remember you doing much of anything earlier."
She put her other hand on his chest and pushed him down. He went willingly, smiling up at her as she climbed on top of him, and when she bent to kiss him, the bad dream seemed forgotten.
On to PART FIVE
It's a wee chapter (well, "wee" for me!). Enjoy!