Fic: Trapped In the Space Between
Pairing: Anders/Leoben
Rating: ADULT
Words: 1200-ish
Summary: Spoilers for "Disquiet...". Sam and Leoben hide when everything goes to hell.
Notes: For the Porn Battle but it ran long. I'm sure you're surprised. Semi-sequel to "Hiding Myself in Your Eyes." Maybe now I can get to something more fun.
Sam is pretty sure the gods, if they exist, are having a good laugh at his expense. There's a revolt going on and he's hiding with Leoben in a small, hot space between the bulkheads, trying to stay out of sight until order's restored. If order is restored. Leoben's probably just saved them both from getting an airlock, by dragging Sam off the instant he came back from CAP. But now they're stuck without a weapon, unknown enemies all around, with no idea what's going on in the rest of the ship.
Pacing the small confines, Sam wonders about Kara. About Helo and Sharon and Hera. Tigh and Tyrol. Caprica and the baby. Adama. President Roslin. Even Lee, who's surely in trouble, just for granting the amnesty, even if it didn't stick. Sam hates that he has to worry about Lee Frakking Apollo for two seconds. But he hates more that he doesn't know where any of them are or if they're still alive. He turns on his heel and heads for the grate to get the frak out of there. But he still keeps his voice low, aware of how voices can carry among the pipes and ducts. "We need to go find out what's happening."
"If they catch you, you'll be put in a cell or put against the bulkhead and shot," Leoben tells him, and Sam hates how calm he looks. "Your celebrity will only make you a bigger target."
"Celebrity." He snorts out a sour laugh. "Not to mention, Gaeta hates me."
"Gaeta hates himself most of all, and that will destroy him. Hopefully without taking our friends with him. But we can't help the others if we're dead or in a cell with them."
"But Kara --"
Leoben's eyes cut away from him, looking distant. "Kara can take care of herself."
Sam wants to ask what changed, but that leads to paths he doesn’t want to go down. He draws in a breath, trying to calm down, but he's too keyed up. He needs to move, to do something, and his hand itches for a gun so he can help his friends.
Trying to get rid of the useless adrenaline, he slaps at the bulkhead once. Leoben moves swiftly from his pose lounging against the wall, to seize his wrist. "Don't. Somebody will hear."
"Good, let them come," Sam snaps and pulls free. "I'm so tired of waiting for someone to kill me. Get it frakking done."
"You don't mean that. Or you wouldn't be here with me."
Sam puts his back to the wall and tips his head back against it, wondering what he really feels. He closes his eyes, trying to recapture a bit of the joy of that ancient memory of the guitar, but it's gone, buried again by his fears of the present and all the things he doesn't understand. "I don't know what the frak I mean. I'm a survivor of a dead race, and frak if I know why or how, or anything, except I have the terrible feeling the Colonies are somehow my fault. And ... if that's true, I ... " His voice catches in his throat. Once he would've said with confidence he had nothing to do with the nuking of the Colonies, Cylon or not; now he knows how much he doesn't remember, and he can't be sure. Not with a two thousand year gap in his memory. "Gods. Maybe I should go out there and just confess, and maybe it'll stop...."
He doesn't flinch when Leoben's hand touches the side of his face and traces down his cheek. This is what he wants. "Making yourself a sacrifice won't help," he murmurs. "You'll be dead for nothing."
Sam stares into Leoben's eyes for a long moment. "We're all dead for nothing. It just hasn't happened yet."
"We'll find some way out of here," Leoben says, meaning it in reassurance, but the echo of his own song makes Sam shudder. But Leoben's eyes catch fire at the reaction, and his hand slips down to Sam's neck, curling a hand to the back of his neck. "Let me give you what you need," he whispers.
Sam should push him away, but they've done this before. He remembers Leoben's calm reassurance, and Leoben's warm hand jacking him against the wall on the baseship, when the Eight died. Sam's breath shortens, and his heart thumps faster at the memory. His fingers curl in want at the breath on his skin. "I don't think this is a good idea..." he objects, right before Leoben's mouth pushes against his.
Gods. His hands fumble for Leoben's shirt, pulling it off him in a moment when their mouths aren't open against each other and Sam's lips aren't getting abraded by stubble. He's panting as Leoben's lips tug at his neck, making him shiver, and then again when Leoben pulls his uniform tanks over his head. His hands slide all the way down Sam's arms and torso, to open his belt.
Leoben's hand slides down his belly and into the open pants, pushing them down his hips, and he gasps when a warm hand encloses his cock.
"We're not so different from them, if only they could see that," Leoben mutters against his skin.
"I think maybe we need to frak more often." Sam realizes he included himself in the 'we' for the Cylons and laughs, a breathy, desperate sound that gets strangled in his throat, as Leoben pulls on him. He wants to climb inside the feeling and ride it like a Viper out in space. His hands tighten on Leoben's shoulders, yanking him closer, warmth to warmth. It's so close Leoben has to let go of his cock, but that's okay because Sam's pushing down his pants too. His hands grab Leoben's hips, keeping them pressed together.
His vision whites out as Leoben's hard cock rubs against his balls, and he lets out a whine that Leoben stops with his mouth.
Cylon on Cylon, body against body, they settle into a rhythm instantly. Sweat helps them slide better, and Sam's panting for breath, each breath broken when he feels his own erection against Leoben's skin, pressed between them.
His fingers are tight on Leoben's ass and he moves one hand just a little, just enough. Leoben freezes, straining against Sam, who pushes deeper with his finger. Leoben's eyes widen, pupils huge in the dim light, and the look on his face is pure surprise, until he gives a shuddering graceless thrust and comes with an open mouth and a tiny gasp.
Sam is smirking as he pulls away. The smile lasts until Leoben's hands caress down his front, lower, and his mouth follows down, until the only thing Sam can touch is Leoben's short, bristly hair.
The rest of his body is cold, but gods, the hot mouth makes him so warm. His lower belly feels heavy and clenched, as lips glide deeper, wrap the base of his cock.
He wants to thrust, but he can't, with Leoben's hands pushing him against the wall. He pleads for Leoben to finish because he doesn't think he can stand any more, and yet, he begs for him not to stop because every nerve in his body is burning and he doesn't want to let it end, not yet. He covers his own mouth with the back of his hand, biting the skin to keep himself quiet, and tries to keep his body motionless, so he doesn't bang anything against the wall and give away their position.
Forced to stillness, it doesn't take long. A sharp pulse of blinding pleasure and its smaller echoes shoot through him, and he rides it out, still buried in Leoben's mouth.
Leoben lets Sam's cock slip off his tongue, as he pulls free and climbs to his feet. Sam rests against the wall, trying to get his breath back.
"One of these days I want to frak like we used to on Caprica," Leoben murmurs.
Instead of protesting the idea, Sam echoes only a little sarcastically, "One of these days." So he promises, "If we make it through this alive, we will." It's an easy promise to make when he doesn't believe it's going to happen.
Leoben leans into him and kisses his shoulder and neck. "Then we both have something to live for."
Sam shuts his eyes and tries to pretend that's enough.
Rating: ADULT
Words: 1200-ish
Summary: Spoilers for "Disquiet...". Sam and Leoben hide when everything goes to hell.
Notes: For the Porn Battle but it ran long. I'm sure you're surprised. Semi-sequel to "Hiding Myself in Your Eyes." Maybe now I can get to something more fun.
Sam is pretty sure the gods, if they exist, are having a good laugh at his expense. There's a revolt going on and he's hiding with Leoben in a small, hot space between the bulkheads, trying to stay out of sight until order's restored. If order is restored. Leoben's probably just saved them both from getting an airlock, by dragging Sam off the instant he came back from CAP. But now they're stuck without a weapon, unknown enemies all around, with no idea what's going on in the rest of the ship.
Pacing the small confines, Sam wonders about Kara. About Helo and Sharon and Hera. Tigh and Tyrol. Caprica and the baby. Adama. President Roslin. Even Lee, who's surely in trouble, just for granting the amnesty, even if it didn't stick. Sam hates that he has to worry about Lee Frakking Apollo for two seconds. But he hates more that he doesn't know where any of them are or if they're still alive. He turns on his heel and heads for the grate to get the frak out of there. But he still keeps his voice low, aware of how voices can carry among the pipes and ducts. "We need to go find out what's happening."
"If they catch you, you'll be put in a cell or put against the bulkhead and shot," Leoben tells him, and Sam hates how calm he looks. "Your celebrity will only make you a bigger target."
"Celebrity." He snorts out a sour laugh. "Not to mention, Gaeta hates me."
"Gaeta hates himself most of all, and that will destroy him. Hopefully without taking our friends with him. But we can't help the others if we're dead or in a cell with them."
"But Kara --"
Leoben's eyes cut away from him, looking distant. "Kara can take care of herself."
Sam wants to ask what changed, but that leads to paths he doesn’t want to go down. He draws in a breath, trying to calm down, but he's too keyed up. He needs to move, to do something, and his hand itches for a gun so he can help his friends.
Trying to get rid of the useless adrenaline, he slaps at the bulkhead once. Leoben moves swiftly from his pose lounging against the wall, to seize his wrist. "Don't. Somebody will hear."
"Good, let them come," Sam snaps and pulls free. "I'm so tired of waiting for someone to kill me. Get it frakking done."
"You don't mean that. Or you wouldn't be here with me."
Sam puts his back to the wall and tips his head back against it, wondering what he really feels. He closes his eyes, trying to recapture a bit of the joy of that ancient memory of the guitar, but it's gone, buried again by his fears of the present and all the things he doesn't understand. "I don't know what the frak I mean. I'm a survivor of a dead race, and frak if I know why or how, or anything, except I have the terrible feeling the Colonies are somehow my fault. And ... if that's true, I ... " His voice catches in his throat. Once he would've said with confidence he had nothing to do with the nuking of the Colonies, Cylon or not; now he knows how much he doesn't remember, and he can't be sure. Not with a two thousand year gap in his memory. "Gods. Maybe I should go out there and just confess, and maybe it'll stop...."
He doesn't flinch when Leoben's hand touches the side of his face and traces down his cheek. This is what he wants. "Making yourself a sacrifice won't help," he murmurs. "You'll be dead for nothing."
Sam stares into Leoben's eyes for a long moment. "We're all dead for nothing. It just hasn't happened yet."
"We'll find some way out of here," Leoben says, meaning it in reassurance, but the echo of his own song makes Sam shudder. But Leoben's eyes catch fire at the reaction, and his hand slips down to Sam's neck, curling a hand to the back of his neck. "Let me give you what you need," he whispers.
Sam should push him away, but they've done this before. He remembers Leoben's calm reassurance, and Leoben's warm hand jacking him against the wall on the baseship, when the Eight died. Sam's breath shortens, and his heart thumps faster at the memory. His fingers curl in want at the breath on his skin. "I don't think this is a good idea..." he objects, right before Leoben's mouth pushes against his.
Gods. His hands fumble for Leoben's shirt, pulling it off him in a moment when their mouths aren't open against each other and Sam's lips aren't getting abraded by stubble. He's panting as Leoben's lips tug at his neck, making him shiver, and then again when Leoben pulls his uniform tanks over his head. His hands slide all the way down Sam's arms and torso, to open his belt.
Leoben's hand slides down his belly and into the open pants, pushing them down his hips, and he gasps when a warm hand encloses his cock.
"We're not so different from them, if only they could see that," Leoben mutters against his skin.
"I think maybe we need to frak more often." Sam realizes he included himself in the 'we' for the Cylons and laughs, a breathy, desperate sound that gets strangled in his throat, as Leoben pulls on him. He wants to climb inside the feeling and ride it like a Viper out in space. His hands tighten on Leoben's shoulders, yanking him closer, warmth to warmth. It's so close Leoben has to let go of his cock, but that's okay because Sam's pushing down his pants too. His hands grab Leoben's hips, keeping them pressed together.
His vision whites out as Leoben's hard cock rubs against his balls, and he lets out a whine that Leoben stops with his mouth.
Cylon on Cylon, body against body, they settle into a rhythm instantly. Sweat helps them slide better, and Sam's panting for breath, each breath broken when he feels his own erection against Leoben's skin, pressed between them.
His fingers are tight on Leoben's ass and he moves one hand just a little, just enough. Leoben freezes, straining against Sam, who pushes deeper with his finger. Leoben's eyes widen, pupils huge in the dim light, and the look on his face is pure surprise, until he gives a shuddering graceless thrust and comes with an open mouth and a tiny gasp.
Sam is smirking as he pulls away. The smile lasts until Leoben's hands caress down his front, lower, and his mouth follows down, until the only thing Sam can touch is Leoben's short, bristly hair.
The rest of his body is cold, but gods, the hot mouth makes him so warm. His lower belly feels heavy and clenched, as lips glide deeper, wrap the base of his cock.
He wants to thrust, but he can't, with Leoben's hands pushing him against the wall. He pleads for Leoben to finish because he doesn't think he can stand any more, and yet, he begs for him not to stop because every nerve in his body is burning and he doesn't want to let it end, not yet. He covers his own mouth with the back of his hand, biting the skin to keep himself quiet, and tries to keep his body motionless, so he doesn't bang anything against the wall and give away their position.
Forced to stillness, it doesn't take long. A sharp pulse of blinding pleasure and its smaller echoes shoot through him, and he rides it out, still buried in Leoben's mouth.
Leoben lets Sam's cock slip off his tongue, as he pulls free and climbs to his feet. Sam rests against the wall, trying to get his breath back.
"One of these days I want to frak like we used to on Caprica," Leoben murmurs.
Instead of protesting the idea, Sam echoes only a little sarcastically, "One of these days." So he promises, "If we make it through this alive, we will." It's an easy promise to make when he doesn't believe it's going to happen.
Leoben leans into him and kisses his shoulder and neck. "Then we both have something to live for."
Sam shuts his eyes and tries to pretend that's enough.