Ficlet: "Trump", Sam/Leoben, Rated T.
This was written for the BSG Slashathon Porn Battle, and I fail at writing comment-length porn, okay? This is unbeta'd and all mistakes (of which I am sure there are many) are mine and I apologize. But there is boykissing! And comma-abuse, because it's me. But again, it was JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A COMMENT. ::fails utterly at brevity::
It's just supposed to be a card game. That's all.
But Kara, in her usual fashion, can't ever leave well enough alone. It's not enough that it's the three of them--Kara, Sam, and Leoben--and that Sam knows, knows Leoben is frakking his wife even if no one's actually told him so. No, Kara has to do something stupid like she always does, has to up the stakes another frakking million points. "If I win this round," she purrs, smiling, and her expression makes him want to frak her or smack her or maybe both, "You two have to make out. Until I say stop."
"No," Sam says immediately, glaring at her. He looks over at Leoben, who is quiet and staring at the two of them with his usual infuriatingly unfathomable expression. "We're frakking you, not each other, Kara." It's the first time he's acknowledged it, that he knows, and part of him wants someone to deny it.
But of course, no one does. Leoben just stares at him for a long second and shrugs. "Sure," he says, eying Sam in a way that makes Sam want to smack him instead of Kara.
Kara touches the tip of her tongue to her lip. Sam's had too much to drink, and he can feel Leoben's amused eyes on him and Kara's certainty that he's going to back down and refuse. "Fine," he says, snatching up his cards. "You're not going to win anyway, Thrace. Your hand is crap." His voice is filled with the confidence only liquor and false bravado can provide. He staunchly refuses to look at Leoben.
Kara wins, of course, pulls it out of her ass at the last second and tosses her cards down with a laugh of victory, throwing her arms up in celebration. "I've been playing cards with pilots while you've been running laps with dumb jocks, Anders," she crows nonsensically, her words a little slurred from the piss-poor liquor they're drinking. "Go on, boys. Entertain me." She leans back in her chair, hands behind her head, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across her face. "Wish I had a frakking cigar."
Sam stands up, angry, moving without any of his athlete's grace. The chair clatters to the floor behind him and he shakes his head, staring at his wife with narrowed eyes. "This isn't...you cheated. You had to have cheated."
"Maybe," Kara says, and laughs--the sound a little wild and more than a little soused. "But you still lost, soldier. Go on," she said, waving a hand towards Leoben's direction. "He's a good kisser, Sam. Trust me."
Sam can feel his body tense up at that, feel the flush in his cheeks. Anger. That's it. He turns, muttering something, intending to get out of there, away from Kara and her frakking stupid games, and then Leoben says quietly, "You didn't really think he'd do it, did you, Kara?" He sounds like he always does; sly, like he knows something everyone else doesn't.
And that's enough to make Sam lose it.
He spins, fast, and grabs Leoben by the collar of his shirt. He barely catches the flash of surprise on the other man's face before Sam shoves him backwards, towards the wall, pressing his mouth to Leoben's before he can think about what he's doing. Leoben's body is hard; it's not like kissing a girl, there's nothing soft about it. Even Kara, with her body toned and muscled, has curves a man just doesn't have, has a softness to her kiss even when she's angry, like she so often is.
Sam feels something zing up his spine and rush over his body, breaking over him in shivers--he wants to blame it on that godsdamned Cylon thing he shares with Leoben, because the alternative is not something he wants to consider. But Leoben's kissing him back, his mouth open and hot, and suddenly Sam doesn't care what makes it feel good, it just does. Sam's hands are on Leoben's shoulders and he shoves Leoben back against the wall again, just for good measure, and Leoben makes a sound that Sam likes, so he does it again. Sam is dimly aware of Kara saying something behind him--maybe it's stop, maybe it's don't stop, but Sam doesn't really give a frak what it is. He keeps going, grateful his anger has some outlet, pretending he doesn't feel the hardness pressed against his hip.
He'll stop when he's godsdamned good and ready.
Eventually he pulls away and looks over at Kara. Her face is flushed and her eyes look a little glazed. "That what you wanted?" he asks, voice roughened, breathing like he's just run a frakking mile. Kara gives a slight nod and looks like she's going to say something but can't; a rarity for her, maybe he's found some way to make her shut up. Sam turns and looks back at Leoben--his hair is mussed (had Sam done that? He dimly remembers maybe that he did, fingers twining through Leoben's fair hair, grasping tight at the short strands). He's breathing fast, too, and Sam realizes Leoben's hand is on his shoulder and they're still pressed against the wall, both of them, and Sam suddenly isn't sure what to do.
Walk away doesn't occur to him. It's too late for that.
Kara finds her voice--of course she does, it's Kara, and Sam knows her well enough to know she'll have to say something. "Please, don't stop on my account."
Sam looks back at Leoben, uncertain, and then Leoben smiles at him; slow, amused. He leans forward and puts his mouth next to Sam's ear. "My turn, don't you think?"
Sam doesn't think it's the Cylon thing that is making him shiver this time; it's Leoben's breath, warm against the sensitive whorls of his ear. He should say frak you or why the hell would you think that or anything other than what he does say. "Try it and see," Sam answers. Leoben has him backed up against the metal wall so fast it makes Sam's head spin. He hears Kara laugh delightedly, hears a sound that might actually be her clapping, and then Leoben braces one arm against his collarbone and kisses him, and Sam doesn't hear anything but the roar of his blood in his ears. He struggles and Leoben just pins him harder with his arm and his body, doesn't let him get away, and maybe Sam likes that, too. He keeps struggling just so Leoben will keep doing it, because it's pretty frakking obvious that Sam doesn't want to get away.
When Leoben pulls back, they're both hard and Sam knows it's not going to stop here, not going to stop with kissing, and he can see Kara get up and pull off her boots. She's clumsy in her haste, and even from his distance across the room Sam can tell her hands are shaking. She gets up and puts her boots outside the door to the pilot's rack and closes it tight.
Maybe losing that hand wasn't so bad, after all.
It's just supposed to be a card game. That's all.
But Kara, in her usual fashion, can't ever leave well enough alone. It's not enough that it's the three of them--Kara, Sam, and Leoben--and that Sam knows, knows Leoben is frakking his wife even if no one's actually told him so. No, Kara has to do something stupid like she always does, has to up the stakes another frakking million points. "If I win this round," she purrs, smiling, and her expression makes him want to frak her or smack her or maybe both, "You two have to make out. Until I say stop."
"No," Sam says immediately, glaring at her. He looks over at Leoben, who is quiet and staring at the two of them with his usual infuriatingly unfathomable expression. "We're frakking you, not each other, Kara." It's the first time he's acknowledged it, that he knows, and part of him wants someone to deny it.
But of course, no one does. Leoben just stares at him for a long second and shrugs. "Sure," he says, eying Sam in a way that makes Sam want to smack him instead of Kara.
Kara touches the tip of her tongue to her lip. Sam's had too much to drink, and he can feel Leoben's amused eyes on him and Kara's certainty that he's going to back down and refuse. "Fine," he says, snatching up his cards. "You're not going to win anyway, Thrace. Your hand is crap." His voice is filled with the confidence only liquor and false bravado can provide. He staunchly refuses to look at Leoben.
Kara wins, of course, pulls it out of her ass at the last second and tosses her cards down with a laugh of victory, throwing her arms up in celebration. "I've been playing cards with pilots while you've been running laps with dumb jocks, Anders," she crows nonsensically, her words a little slurred from the piss-poor liquor they're drinking. "Go on, boys. Entertain me." She leans back in her chair, hands behind her head, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across her face. "Wish I had a frakking cigar."
Sam stands up, angry, moving without any of his athlete's grace. The chair clatters to the floor behind him and he shakes his head, staring at his wife with narrowed eyes. "This isn't...you cheated. You had to have cheated."
"Maybe," Kara says, and laughs--the sound a little wild and more than a little soused. "But you still lost, soldier. Go on," she said, waving a hand towards Leoben's direction. "He's a good kisser, Sam. Trust me."
Sam can feel his body tense up at that, feel the flush in his cheeks. Anger. That's it. He turns, muttering something, intending to get out of there, away from Kara and her frakking stupid games, and then Leoben says quietly, "You didn't really think he'd do it, did you, Kara?" He sounds like he always does; sly, like he knows something everyone else doesn't.
And that's enough to make Sam lose it.
He spins, fast, and grabs Leoben by the collar of his shirt. He barely catches the flash of surprise on the other man's face before Sam shoves him backwards, towards the wall, pressing his mouth to Leoben's before he can think about what he's doing. Leoben's body is hard; it's not like kissing a girl, there's nothing soft about it. Even Kara, with her body toned and muscled, has curves a man just doesn't have, has a softness to her kiss even when she's angry, like she so often is.
Sam feels something zing up his spine and rush over his body, breaking over him in shivers--he wants to blame it on that godsdamned Cylon thing he shares with Leoben, because the alternative is not something he wants to consider. But Leoben's kissing him back, his mouth open and hot, and suddenly Sam doesn't care what makes it feel good, it just does. Sam's hands are on Leoben's shoulders and he shoves Leoben back against the wall again, just for good measure, and Leoben makes a sound that Sam likes, so he does it again. Sam is dimly aware of Kara saying something behind him--maybe it's stop, maybe it's don't stop, but Sam doesn't really give a frak what it is. He keeps going, grateful his anger has some outlet, pretending he doesn't feel the hardness pressed against his hip.
He'll stop when he's godsdamned good and ready.
Eventually he pulls away and looks over at Kara. Her face is flushed and her eyes look a little glazed. "That what you wanted?" he asks, voice roughened, breathing like he's just run a frakking mile. Kara gives a slight nod and looks like she's going to say something but can't; a rarity for her, maybe he's found some way to make her shut up. Sam turns and looks back at Leoben--his hair is mussed (had Sam done that? He dimly remembers maybe that he did, fingers twining through Leoben's fair hair, grasping tight at the short strands). He's breathing fast, too, and Sam realizes Leoben's hand is on his shoulder and they're still pressed against the wall, both of them, and Sam suddenly isn't sure what to do.
Walk away doesn't occur to him. It's too late for that.
Kara finds her voice--of course she does, it's Kara, and Sam knows her well enough to know she'll have to say something. "Please, don't stop on my account."
Sam looks back at Leoben, uncertain, and then Leoben smiles at him; slow, amused. He leans forward and puts his mouth next to Sam's ear. "My turn, don't you think?"
Sam doesn't think it's the Cylon thing that is making him shiver this time; it's Leoben's breath, warm against the sensitive whorls of his ear. He should say frak you or why the hell would you think that or anything other than what he does say. "Try it and see," Sam answers. Leoben has him backed up against the metal wall so fast it makes Sam's head spin. He hears Kara laugh delightedly, hears a sound that might actually be her clapping, and then Leoben braces one arm against his collarbone and kisses him, and Sam doesn't hear anything but the roar of his blood in his ears. He struggles and Leoben just pins him harder with his arm and his body, doesn't let him get away, and maybe Sam likes that, too. He keeps struggling just so Leoben will keep doing it, because it's pretty frakking obvious that Sam doesn't want to get away.
When Leoben pulls back, they're both hard and Sam knows it's not going to stop here, not going to stop with kissing, and he can see Kara get up and pull off her boots. She's clumsy in her haste, and even from his distance across the room Sam can tell her hands are shaking. She gets up and puts her boots outside the door to the pilot's rack and closes it tight.
Maybe losing that hand wasn't so bad, after all.