BSG: The Sea Circle (Lee/Kara)
Immediate sequel to A Tyrant Spell and Steal a Flowering Branch.
This is the last of the "Lee and Kara go on a working vacation" stories, I swear. I needed closure. Also, there's a hint of angst at the end. Just a little.
Title: The Sea Circle
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Ship: Lee/Kara
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Together we ratify the silence.
Notes: S1, no spoilers
Kara floats into awareness slowly.
She's first aware of her body's pleasant ache, and an arm encircling her waist. Then, lips mumbling against her neck, a leg entwined between hers.
She takes a deep breath, lets her eyes slip open.
The mumbling behind her becomes distinct. "Morning, Kara." Lee tightens his arm's grip, plants a kiss on the nape of her neck.
"Good morning." She smiles at the wall, stretches her legs. Arches, laughs as Lee's erection prods against the small of her back. "Very good morning."
Lee brushes his lips against her shoulder. "It's just past 0700."
"The first meeting's in an hour and a half."
"If we skip breakfast."
She twists, faces him. "I could go for an omelette."
"Very funny," he replies. Rolls, presses her back into the mattress, presses a kiss against the slope of her breast. "Okay?"
She bends her knees, cradles his hips between her thighs. "What do you think?"
"Well." He insinuates a hand between them, finds her already wet.
She slides her hand over his throat, pulls him down for a kiss. Lets out a long, stuttering sigh as he eases into her.
"Mmm," he says against her neck.
"You owe me a breakfast," she responds.
"Kara, shut up."
For a while, she does.
*
They miss breakfast, and end up sharing a shower in order to get to their respective posts in time for the first meeting.
Kara watches from a balcony as Lee sneaks into his seat behind the president's party. Notices something, snorts, and flicks open a channel on her comm unit. "Apollo, Starbuck."
He flinches, and she tries not to laugh as he curls in his chair, bends his head to his comm unit. "I hear you, Starbuck. What's going on?"
"You might want to adjust your collar."
"I..." He swivels, looks up at the balcony. "What?"
"Your jacket collar."
He lifts a hand to his neck, straightens his posture. "Copy that, Starbuck. Thanks."
She closes the channel, and Lee tugs at his collar until she can't see the hickey low on his throat.
*
The last meeting ends when the clock strikes evening.
Kara makes a ceremonial stop at the bridge, shakes the captain's hand after she's officially dismissed.
Lee, she knows, will be mingling with the muckety-mucks for the better part of an hour, at least, and she doesn't feel like flying back to the Galactica on her own.
Instead, she decides to finish up her swim. She wanders the emptying hallways back down to the pool in the decks below, dims the lights overhead until the water glows.
Kara smiles, sheds her uniform, and shivers for a moment before sliding into the pool.
She's just finished her fifth lap when she catches the squawk of her comm unit. She sputters in the water for a second, then paddles to the edge of the pool. Dries her hand on her jacket, flips open the channel.
"This is Starbuck."
"Starbuck, this is Apollo. Where are you?"
"Is something wrong?" She coils against the ledge, prepares to clamber out.
"No," he replies, "just curious."
At the tone of his voice, she grins. Relaxes again. "Tell you what, Apollo," she says.
"What?"
"Come and find me."
She closes the channel on his protest. Tosses the comm unit back on her jacket, and does another lap.
*
When he arrives poolside, she's floating on her back in the center of the pool, eyes half-lidded.
"Took you long enough," she drawls.
"You could have given me a hint." He crouches, yanks off his boots and socks. Stands, shrugs out of his jacket.
"And ruin the fun?" She rolls, swims idly to the ledge and props her arms on it.
Lee pauses at her stare, his hands still on his belt buckle. "What?"
"Nothing." She leers. "Just enjoying the show."
He rolls his eyes, but when he pulls his shirts up, he does it almost slowly. Undoes the fastenings of his slacks, and she whistles, low and appreciative.
"This isn't fair, you know," he says, but she's distracted by the drag of cloth against his legs. "Kara?"
"Hmm?" She lets her gaze crawl from his toes to his face, stopping frequently to admire the view.
"This doesn't seem fair," he reiterates.
"Hey," she says as he slides into the water, "you got your show last night."
"You call that a show?"
She shoves him, lets the motion propel her backwards, and she spins, dives down. Swims until her feet can touch the tile of the pool.
Lee surfaces close behind her, catches her around the waist. She considers struggling, but instead, she raises her chin, kisses him, and then again.
Finally, they have to stop, to pant, to breathe, and she rests her forehead against his shoulder.
"We have to fly back tonight," he says, and she thinks she hears regret.
"It's too bad," she responds, and he pulls back, looks at her. She shrugs. "The Galactica doesn't have a pool."
"Right." He gazes at her a second longer, but when he starts to say more, she shakes her head.
"Not now."
He purses his lips. Nods, and bends his head. Traces the curve of her ear with his teeth, flicks his tongue at the point where her jaw meets her neck. She sighs, twines her arms around his neck, presses against him.
At that, he groans. Slides his hands down, down, lifts her until she wraps her legs around his hips, hooks her ankles on his thighs.
She shifts until he's barely inside of her, looks him in the eye. "Don't think about it," she says, and he nods, gulps, pushes into her, until she tips her head back and moans.
"Gods, Lee."
He laughs, a short huff against her throat.
She rocks her hips down, and again, growls a little. The angle isn't quite right, isn't quite there.
"I don't think this will work."
He tightens his grip on her waist, thrusts up. "Is that so?"
She takes a moment, tries to catch her breath. He thrusts again, and she catches her nails against his arms.
"Ow!"
"Sorry." She twists, soothes the scratches with her mouth. "But, seriously."
And again, and she gasps.
"What do you mean by this?"
"I mean, oh, gods, Lee, I mean unless you want to be interrupted again, we should--oh." She loses her train of thought.
He smoothes his hands down her back. "So what do you propose?"
She blinks. "What?"
He smirks.
"Oh, right." She looks around, vaguely, notices stairs leading at one end of the pool. "Over there."
"There." He manages a step in that direction, then stills. Closes his eyes for a minute.
It's her turn to smirk. "Problem?"
His hands clutch at her waist, lift her off him, and she's embarrassed when she whimpers, because it echoes in the room.
He looks at her.
"Shut up."
He laughs, kisses her, and she walks, backwards, until her heels hit against the bottom step. She swivels, still kissing him, and pushes his shoulders until he sits. Braces her knees on either side of his, and takes him in hand, and plunges down.
"Gods." This time, the angle is exactly right, and she rises on her knees, and down again, and he thrusts up to meet her. "Perfect," she murmurs.
"Thanks," he replies, and they both laugh.
Rivulets of water trickle down her back, lap against her breasts as they rock together, and the air is chill where her skin is exposed.
She shivers, feels feverish, and Lee's mouth is hot against her throat, over her breasts. She traces the muscles of his back with her nails, and his fingers flex against her waist.
She dips her head, catches Lee's lips with her own, tastes the metallic tang of the pool's water against his tongue.
Lee groans into her mouth, tightens his hold. Thrusts up, grinds hard, jagged, and even as he comes, presses his hand against her mound, right there, and the tide rolls, crests, carries her away.
When her heart stops hammering against her ribs, she's slumped against Lee's chest, staring at a bite-mark on the curve of his shoulder. His hand is sketching spirals down her spine, and when he speaks, she feels the vibration of his voice against her cheek.
"Ow, by the way."
"Sorry," she says again. She raises her head, meets his grin with her own. "You know, it's probably a good thing there isn't a pool."
"You think so?"
She leans back, skims her fingers over the bite on his shoulder, the fading bruise on his throat, the scratches on his chest and arms. "I don't know how you'd explain these."
Lee laughs, places a kiss just behind her ear. "I'd think of something." Then he sighs. "It's getting late."
Kara cups a hand against his cheek, strokes his bottom lip with her thumb. Smiles.
"So let's go home."
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet IX:There where the waves shatter on the restless rocks
the clear light bursts and enacts its rose,
and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,
to one drop of blue salt, falling.
O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,
magnetic transient whose death booms
and vanishes--being, nothingness--forever:
broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.
You and I, Love, together we ratify the silence,
while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,
collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:
because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,
galloping water, incessant sand,
we make the only permanent tenderness.
Originally linked here. Linked at beyond_insane.
This is the last of the "Lee and Kara go on a working vacation" stories, I swear. I needed closure. Also, there's a hint of angst at the end. Just a little.
Title: The Sea Circle
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Ship: Lee/Kara
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Together we ratify the silence.
Notes: S1, no spoilers
Kara floats into awareness slowly.
She's first aware of her body's pleasant ache, and an arm encircling her waist. Then, lips mumbling against her neck, a leg entwined between hers.
She takes a deep breath, lets her eyes slip open.
The mumbling behind her becomes distinct. "Morning, Kara." Lee tightens his arm's grip, plants a kiss on the nape of her neck.
"Good morning." She smiles at the wall, stretches her legs. Arches, laughs as Lee's erection prods against the small of her back. "Very good morning."
Lee brushes his lips against her shoulder. "It's just past 0700."
"The first meeting's in an hour and a half."
"If we skip breakfast."
She twists, faces him. "I could go for an omelette."
"Very funny," he replies. Rolls, presses her back into the mattress, presses a kiss against the slope of her breast. "Okay?"
She bends her knees, cradles his hips between her thighs. "What do you think?"
"Well." He insinuates a hand between them, finds her already wet.
She slides her hand over his throat, pulls him down for a kiss. Lets out a long, stuttering sigh as he eases into her.
"Mmm," he says against her neck.
"You owe me a breakfast," she responds.
"Kara, shut up."
For a while, she does.
*
They miss breakfast, and end up sharing a shower in order to get to their respective posts in time for the first meeting.
Kara watches from a balcony as Lee sneaks into his seat behind the president's party. Notices something, snorts, and flicks open a channel on her comm unit. "Apollo, Starbuck."
He flinches, and she tries not to laugh as he curls in his chair, bends his head to his comm unit. "I hear you, Starbuck. What's going on?"
"You might want to adjust your collar."
"I..." He swivels, looks up at the balcony. "What?"
"Your jacket collar."
He lifts a hand to his neck, straightens his posture. "Copy that, Starbuck. Thanks."
She closes the channel, and Lee tugs at his collar until she can't see the hickey low on his throat.
*
The last meeting ends when the clock strikes evening.
Kara makes a ceremonial stop at the bridge, shakes the captain's hand after she's officially dismissed.
Lee, she knows, will be mingling with the muckety-mucks for the better part of an hour, at least, and she doesn't feel like flying back to the Galactica on her own.
Instead, she decides to finish up her swim. She wanders the emptying hallways back down to the pool in the decks below, dims the lights overhead until the water glows.
Kara smiles, sheds her uniform, and shivers for a moment before sliding into the pool.
She's just finished her fifth lap when she catches the squawk of her comm unit. She sputters in the water for a second, then paddles to the edge of the pool. Dries her hand on her jacket, flips open the channel.
"This is Starbuck."
"Starbuck, this is Apollo. Where are you?"
"Is something wrong?" She coils against the ledge, prepares to clamber out.
"No," he replies, "just curious."
At the tone of his voice, she grins. Relaxes again. "Tell you what, Apollo," she says.
"What?"
"Come and find me."
She closes the channel on his protest. Tosses the comm unit back on her jacket, and does another lap.
*
When he arrives poolside, she's floating on her back in the center of the pool, eyes half-lidded.
"Took you long enough," she drawls.
"You could have given me a hint." He crouches, yanks off his boots and socks. Stands, shrugs out of his jacket.
"And ruin the fun?" She rolls, swims idly to the ledge and props her arms on it.
Lee pauses at her stare, his hands still on his belt buckle. "What?"
"Nothing." She leers. "Just enjoying the show."
He rolls his eyes, but when he pulls his shirts up, he does it almost slowly. Undoes the fastenings of his slacks, and she whistles, low and appreciative.
"This isn't fair, you know," he says, but she's distracted by the drag of cloth against his legs. "Kara?"
"Hmm?" She lets her gaze crawl from his toes to his face, stopping frequently to admire the view.
"This doesn't seem fair," he reiterates.
"Hey," she says as he slides into the water, "you got your show last night."
"You call that a show?"
She shoves him, lets the motion propel her backwards, and she spins, dives down. Swims until her feet can touch the tile of the pool.
Lee surfaces close behind her, catches her around the waist. She considers struggling, but instead, she raises her chin, kisses him, and then again.
Finally, they have to stop, to pant, to breathe, and she rests her forehead against his shoulder.
"We have to fly back tonight," he says, and she thinks she hears regret.
"It's too bad," she responds, and he pulls back, looks at her. She shrugs. "The Galactica doesn't have a pool."
"Right." He gazes at her a second longer, but when he starts to say more, she shakes her head.
"Not now."
He purses his lips. Nods, and bends his head. Traces the curve of her ear with his teeth, flicks his tongue at the point where her jaw meets her neck. She sighs, twines her arms around his neck, presses against him.
At that, he groans. Slides his hands down, down, lifts her until she wraps her legs around his hips, hooks her ankles on his thighs.
She shifts until he's barely inside of her, looks him in the eye. "Don't think about it," she says, and he nods, gulps, pushes into her, until she tips her head back and moans.
"Gods, Lee."
He laughs, a short huff against her throat.
She rocks her hips down, and again, growls a little. The angle isn't quite right, isn't quite there.
"I don't think this will work."
He tightens his grip on her waist, thrusts up. "Is that so?"
She takes a moment, tries to catch her breath. He thrusts again, and she catches her nails against his arms.
"Ow!"
"Sorry." She twists, soothes the scratches with her mouth. "But, seriously."
And again, and she gasps.
"What do you mean by this?"
"I mean, oh, gods, Lee, I mean unless you want to be interrupted again, we should--oh." She loses her train of thought.
He smoothes his hands down her back. "So what do you propose?"
She blinks. "What?"
He smirks.
"Oh, right." She looks around, vaguely, notices stairs leading at one end of the pool. "Over there."
"There." He manages a step in that direction, then stills. Closes his eyes for a minute.
It's her turn to smirk. "Problem?"
His hands clutch at her waist, lift her off him, and she's embarrassed when she whimpers, because it echoes in the room.
He looks at her.
"Shut up."
He laughs, kisses her, and she walks, backwards, until her heels hit against the bottom step. She swivels, still kissing him, and pushes his shoulders until he sits. Braces her knees on either side of his, and takes him in hand, and plunges down.
"Gods." This time, the angle is exactly right, and she rises on her knees, and down again, and he thrusts up to meet her. "Perfect," she murmurs.
"Thanks," he replies, and they both laugh.
Rivulets of water trickle down her back, lap against her breasts as they rock together, and the air is chill where her skin is exposed.
She shivers, feels feverish, and Lee's mouth is hot against her throat, over her breasts. She traces the muscles of his back with her nails, and his fingers flex against her waist.
She dips her head, catches Lee's lips with her own, tastes the metallic tang of the pool's water against his tongue.
Lee groans into her mouth, tightens his hold. Thrusts up, grinds hard, jagged, and even as he comes, presses his hand against her mound, right there, and the tide rolls, crests, carries her away.
When her heart stops hammering against her ribs, she's slumped against Lee's chest, staring at a bite-mark on the curve of his shoulder. His hand is sketching spirals down her spine, and when he speaks, she feels the vibration of his voice against her cheek.
"Ow, by the way."
"Sorry," she says again. She raises her head, meets his grin with her own. "You know, it's probably a good thing there isn't a pool."
"You think so?"
She leans back, skims her fingers over the bite on his shoulder, the fading bruise on his throat, the scratches on his chest and arms. "I don't know how you'd explain these."
Lee laughs, places a kiss just behind her ear. "I'd think of something." Then he sighs. "It's getting late."
Kara cups a hand against his cheek, strokes his bottom lip with her thumb. Smiles.
"So let's go home."
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet IX:There where the waves shatter on the restless rocks
the clear light bursts and enacts its rose,
and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,
to one drop of blue salt, falling.
O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,
magnetic transient whose death booms
and vanishes--being, nothingness--forever:
broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.
You and I, Love, together we ratify the silence,
while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,
collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:
because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,
galloping water, incessant sand,
we make the only permanent tenderness.
Originally linked here. Linked at beyond_insane.