A Map Inside, for Merry
Title: A Map Inside
Rating: R
Summary: They try to find Earth together.
Note: for Merry, who wanted Demetrius-fic
There's a map to earth inside him, made of bones and wire and steel. Kara'd kill him if she knew. He's not what she thinks, he's a machine, and there's a map to earth inside him that he doesn't know how to find.
Their bedroom is a playroom, a workshop scattered with colors and sound and brushes and paint and words. It's the first time they've shared a home that wasn't a tent. The colors aren't a map, but maybe they'll help them find one. Sam traces the shapes and listens to them hum. Their edges sound like notes, and they sound like a particular noise that Kara makes when Sam sucks both her nipples at once. He presses his lips to the quiver on Kara's side. "Frak me," she says, like it's an order, and he licks her, hard, along the curve of her hip to her inner thigh. She pulls at him, fingernails in his skin. If she pulls hard enough she might find the wire hidden under the muscle, the programming that could make up a perfect shot.
There's a melody in his mind, short riffs and odd notes, lyrics that aren't quite poetry. It seems louder the longer they drift. He thinks he's going mad, but maybe he was never sane to begin with. He had been crazy for so long, mad enough to think himself human, insane enough to believe he could marry this woman of light and skin and rage. He thrusts like he thinks he can frak his lies into truth, like if he loves hard enough he'll be just a Pyramid player, just Kara's husband, and nothing else at all. But the Gods don't work like that, no matter how many candles you light, and if they did they might make the melody stop.
"I want to feel," Kara says, like she's feeling too much, and for a moment Sam almost tells her. I'm a Cylon, he'd say, like the one who took you. Like the ones that destroyed our worlds. I'm one of them, Kara.
And I don't know what that means, he'd say, but they know the road to Earth, and I do too, it's written in our brains and in the programming we share, even if we don't know how to find it. I know like you know, but I don't know how I know or what I know, just like I don't know what I am. But what are you? They saw you die; I mourned for you and scraped at the wings on my skin like they burned.
"Are you a Cylon?" he asks, because she wanted to hurt, and she tears at him as he moves in her. Like me, he doesn't say as she cries out. Am I like you? The colors of stars loom over them, loom over their bed. There's a map to earth inside them, inside all the colors and sounds and lies and things that they're just not going to say. They're just going to claw at each other until they find it.
Rating: R
Summary: They try to find Earth together.
Note: for Merry, who wanted Demetrius-fic
There's a map to earth inside him, made of bones and wire and steel. Kara'd kill him if she knew. He's not what she thinks, he's a machine, and there's a map to earth inside him that he doesn't know how to find.
Their bedroom is a playroom, a workshop scattered with colors and sound and brushes and paint and words. It's the first time they've shared a home that wasn't a tent. The colors aren't a map, but maybe they'll help them find one. Sam traces the shapes and listens to them hum. Their edges sound like notes, and they sound like a particular noise that Kara makes when Sam sucks both her nipples at once. He presses his lips to the quiver on Kara's side. "Frak me," she says, like it's an order, and he licks her, hard, along the curve of her hip to her inner thigh. She pulls at him, fingernails in his skin. If she pulls hard enough she might find the wire hidden under the muscle, the programming that could make up a perfect shot.
There's a melody in his mind, short riffs and odd notes, lyrics that aren't quite poetry. It seems louder the longer they drift. He thinks he's going mad, but maybe he was never sane to begin with. He had been crazy for so long, mad enough to think himself human, insane enough to believe he could marry this woman of light and skin and rage. He thrusts like he thinks he can frak his lies into truth, like if he loves hard enough he'll be just a Pyramid player, just Kara's husband, and nothing else at all. But the Gods don't work like that, no matter how many candles you light, and if they did they might make the melody stop.
"I want to feel," Kara says, like she's feeling too much, and for a moment Sam almost tells her. I'm a Cylon, he'd say, like the one who took you. Like the ones that destroyed our worlds. I'm one of them, Kara.
And I don't know what that means, he'd say, but they know the road to Earth, and I do too, it's written in our brains and in the programming we share, even if we don't know how to find it. I know like you know, but I don't know how I know or what I know, just like I don't know what I am. But what are you? They saw you die; I mourned for you and scraped at the wings on my skin like they burned.
"Are you a Cylon?" he asks, because she wanted to hurt, and she tears at him as he moves in her. Like me, he doesn't say as she cries out. Am I like you? The colors of stars loom over them, loom over their bed. There's a map to earth inside them, inside all the colors and sounds and lies and things that they're just not going to say. They're just going to claw at each other until they find it.