Fic: BSG: make up your mind to have no regrets
Title: make up your mind to have no regrets
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Pairing: Kara/Lee
Rating: R for semipublic sexytimes
Disclaimers: AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters & situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a Damn Yankees song by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross, which I also had nothing to do with.
A/N: Thanks to leiascully for looking this over! Chapter 5/7 of Adama Brothers 'verse, full index:
01. anything other than stay is go. Lee/Kara, AU, R.
02. we'll be dreaming ways to keep the good alive, Lee/Kara, AU, PG-13.
03. I am your brother (your best friend forever), the Brothers Adama (Zak and Sam), AU, PG-13.
04. once in awhile, when it's good, it'll feel like it should. Lee/Kara, AU, PG-13.
05. make up your mind to have no regrets. Lee/Kara, AU, R.
06. so this is Christmas. Lee/Kara, Zak/Dee, Adama/Roslin, Sam/OC, AU, PG-13.
07. this is easy as lovers go. Lee/Kara, PG-13.
And Prequel Comment!Fic here. First date, Lee/Kara, PG-13.
"Just what the lady ordered," Lee says, holding up the keys. "Something fast with reclining seats."
She grabs the keys and starts walking before he can react.
"Hey! You don't know where the car is," he points out, jogging to keep up with her.
"I can read, dumbass," she reminds him, laughing, jabbing a finger in the direction of the giant sign behind her head. "I don't need glasses. Rental cars. That way."
"I never win with you," he grumbles, but he knows as he watches the swing of her hips that he's more than happy about it. He also knows that he shouldn't have turned her down on the plane, and the whole way through the terminal to the parking lot he's frantically trying to pull up a list of local hotels on his phone while Kara walks alongside him, whispering delicious things in his ear.
They don't even make it out of the parking lot. They barely even make it into the car.
Lee wonders briefly, as Kara's knees slide down either side of his thighs and his hands slide under her shirt, where his sense of propriety has gone. He's no stranger to breaking the rules, but he usually breaks them quietly, conspiratorially, with Sam and Zak to back him up. Kara's brand of rulebreaking is more of a whatever Lola wants philosophy, and it's different and thrilling and sexy, just one of the many things that he loves about her, but at the moment he's not sure he should be loving it here.
"Are you sure we should be doing this here?" he mumbles against her neck. "We can always just, you know, get a hotel and tell 'em the flight was delayed."
"It'll be fine," Kara insists, determined fingers worming their way under the fabric of his shirt. "Just like that time we did it in your office. On your desk. I know you remember," she grins, and he does. Remembering that particular afternoon is one of Lee's favorite ways to wake up, at least when he has to wake up without Kara.
"I'm not likely to forget," Lee hisses.
"Neither is your secretary," Kara laughs.
He wants to tell her to stop, that they could get caught, that it would be embarrassing, but he also wants to tell her to keep going, that they could get caught, that he's harder just thinking about it. He looks over Kara's shoulder at the rearview mirror and watches an elderly couple shuffle past, and for the moment, propriety wins. "Okay, okay, enough, I have to drive," he insists.
"You shot me down on the plane," she reminds him. He notices, through the muzzy haze of arousal, that she's still unzipping his trousers.
Lee considers that it's really only a small part of his mind that thinks this might be a bad idea. Every other part of his body has formed a unified front against his brain. The blood in his dick is leading the protest, every little throb another beat in the chorus of his body's loud refrain, demanding that he let Kara have what she wants, already, because it's never been bad for him, and because this is the last chance before they get to the cabin, and because dammit, it's Kara, and her shirt is half-off and he wants her as much as she wants him. He's having a rough time arguing with all of that. "I didn't shoot you down," he protests feebly. "I was working."
"You're always working," Kara says, reaching down to stroke him. "How about you work on me for a few minutes?"
Lee knows when he doesn't have a winning argument. This is one of those times, and with his sense of what is appropriate in public stashed somewhere in a dark, lonely corner of his mind, Lee gives in to Kara's insistent hands, to the warmth of her body against his, to the need to be as close to her as possible, and she lets out a long, satisfied sigh when he manages to marshal the mental wherewithal to undo her trousers and slip his fingers between her thighs.
"How about we make this more interesting?" Kara asks. For half a second he's absolutely sure that she's gonna hit the button that retracts the roof, and a little thrill goes through him at the thought of getting caught, just like this, Kara in his lap with her hand wrapped around his cock.
He groans. "What did you have in mind?"
"Whoever comes first has to ride shotgun," she says, grinning down at him as she shifts forward, and before he can answer, she's all around him and his brain is short-circuiting from the smooth warmth of her.
"That's completely unfair," he pants, and when she laughs and presses her lips to his, he knows that he's certainly not going to be driving. He figures he can at least give her a run for her the car keys before he comes, and from the sounds she's making he's doing just that. He comes with a shout that would have been her name if he could have formed words, and she follows less than a minute later. She's loud enough that he's sure that the entire city knows what they're doing, but he's so far gone in post-coital bliss that he hardly cares.
He barely has his trousers zipped up again before she has the car door wide open and she's hopping out, clearing her throat expectantly and standing there, one foot tapping impatiently, a winner's grin on her face. "Get outta my driver's seat, Lee Adama," she says.
Lee salutes her as tries to convince his legs that they're still functioning. "Yes, ma'am," he says, and she grabs the keys with a wink and a smile.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Pairing: Kara/Lee
Rating: R for semipublic sexytimes
Disclaimers: AU, baby! Spoilers through Daybreak II, just to be safe. This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters & situations belong to RDM, David Eick, Sci-Fi, NBC Universal and their various subsidiaries. Title from a Damn Yankees song by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross, which I also had nothing to do with.
A/N: Thanks to leiascully for looking this over! Chapter 5/7 of Adama Brothers 'verse, full index:
01. anything other than stay is go. Lee/Kara, AU, R.
02. we'll be dreaming ways to keep the good alive, Lee/Kara, AU, PG-13.
03. I am your brother (your best friend forever), the Brothers Adama (Zak and Sam), AU, PG-13.
04. once in awhile, when it's good, it'll feel like it should. Lee/Kara, AU, PG-13.
05. make up your mind to have no regrets. Lee/Kara, AU, R.
06. so this is Christmas. Lee/Kara, Zak/Dee, Adama/Roslin, Sam/OC, AU, PG-13.
07. this is easy as lovers go. Lee/Kara, PG-13.
And Prequel Comment!Fic here. First date, Lee/Kara, PG-13.
"Just what the lady ordered," Lee says, holding up the keys. "Something fast with reclining seats."
She grabs the keys and starts walking before he can react.
"Hey! You don't know where the car is," he points out, jogging to keep up with her.
"I can read, dumbass," she reminds him, laughing, jabbing a finger in the direction of the giant sign behind her head. "I don't need glasses. Rental cars. That way."
"I never win with you," he grumbles, but he knows as he watches the swing of her hips that he's more than happy about it. He also knows that he shouldn't have turned her down on the plane, and the whole way through the terminal to the parking lot he's frantically trying to pull up a list of local hotels on his phone while Kara walks alongside him, whispering delicious things in his ear.
They don't even make it out of the parking lot. They barely even make it into the car.
Lee wonders briefly, as Kara's knees slide down either side of his thighs and his hands slide under her shirt, where his sense of propriety has gone. He's no stranger to breaking the rules, but he usually breaks them quietly, conspiratorially, with Sam and Zak to back him up. Kara's brand of rulebreaking is more of a whatever Lola wants philosophy, and it's different and thrilling and sexy, just one of the many things that he loves about her, but at the moment he's not sure he should be loving it here.
"Are you sure we should be doing this here?" he mumbles against her neck. "We can always just, you know, get a hotel and tell 'em the flight was delayed."
"It'll be fine," Kara insists, determined fingers worming their way under the fabric of his shirt. "Just like that time we did it in your office. On your desk. I know you remember," she grins, and he does. Remembering that particular afternoon is one of Lee's favorite ways to wake up, at least when he has to wake up without Kara.
"I'm not likely to forget," Lee hisses.
"Neither is your secretary," Kara laughs.
He wants to tell her to stop, that they could get caught, that it would be embarrassing, but he also wants to tell her to keep going, that they could get caught, that he's harder just thinking about it. He looks over Kara's shoulder at the rearview mirror and watches an elderly couple shuffle past, and for the moment, propriety wins. "Okay, okay, enough, I have to drive," he insists.
"You shot me down on the plane," she reminds him. He notices, through the muzzy haze of arousal, that she's still unzipping his trousers.
Lee considers that it's really only a small part of his mind that thinks this might be a bad idea. Every other part of his body has formed a unified front against his brain. The blood in his dick is leading the protest, every little throb another beat in the chorus of his body's loud refrain, demanding that he let Kara have what she wants, already, because it's never been bad for him, and because this is the last chance before they get to the cabin, and because dammit, it's Kara, and her shirt is half-off and he wants her as much as she wants him. He's having a rough time arguing with all of that. "I didn't shoot you down," he protests feebly. "I was working."
"You're always working," Kara says, reaching down to stroke him. "How about you work on me for a few minutes?"
Lee knows when he doesn't have a winning argument. This is one of those times, and with his sense of what is appropriate in public stashed somewhere in a dark, lonely corner of his mind, Lee gives in to Kara's insistent hands, to the warmth of her body against his, to the need to be as close to her as possible, and she lets out a long, satisfied sigh when he manages to marshal the mental wherewithal to undo her trousers and slip his fingers between her thighs.
"How about we make this more interesting?" Kara asks. For half a second he's absolutely sure that she's gonna hit the button that retracts the roof, and a little thrill goes through him at the thought of getting caught, just like this, Kara in his lap with her hand wrapped around his cock.
He groans. "What did you have in mind?"
"Whoever comes first has to ride shotgun," she says, grinning down at him as she shifts forward, and before he can answer, she's all around him and his brain is short-circuiting from the smooth warmth of her.
"That's completely unfair," he pants, and when she laughs and presses her lips to his, he knows that he's certainly not going to be driving. He figures he can at least give her a run for her the car keys before he comes, and from the sounds she's making he's doing just that. He comes with a shout that would have been her name if he could have formed words, and she follows less than a minute later. She's loud enough that he's sure that the entire city knows what they're doing, but he's so far gone in post-coital bliss that he hardly cares.
He barely has his trousers zipped up again before she has the car door wide open and she's hopping out, clearing her throat expectantly and standing there, one foot tapping impatiently, a winner's grin on her face. "Get outta my driver's seat, Lee Adama," she says.
Lee salutes her as tries to convince his legs that they're still functioning. "Yes, ma'am," he says, and she grabs the keys with a wink and a smile.