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padmeonpaper2009-05-01 10:57 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-01 10:57 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "The Sound of One Hand Clapping" (Battlestar Galactica, Lee/Kara, 6/11)
Title: The Sound of One Hand Clapping
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Lee/Kara with mentions of Lee/Dee, Sam/Kara and Zak/Kara
Status: Complete. One chapter will be posted per day.
Word Count: 1,744 this chapter
Rating: NC-17 this chapter
Spoilers: Through S3's "Crossroads, Part 2"
Summary: Peace is not wondering when the gods will once again arrive to exact their pound of flesh. Peace is not waiting for the next air raid, the moment at which the bombs begin to fall.
Author's Notes: Sorry about the slightly late posting, everyone! This one's a bit shorter than the others, but hopefully the smutty contents will make up for that. ;) Note the rating change, if you haven't already, and scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea. :) As always, more extensive author's notes can be found here.
The shower feels like a relief for both of them. Perhaps it’s because when he lifts her tanks and thumbs down her pants it’s like they’re getting ready for a good hard frak, and that’s nothing new. Kara stands naked, her back to the sink, hands wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, and watches as Lee strips, trying not to think of what she’d do to him if she was able. She tries not to become sensitized to the feel of skin touching skin as they walk together towards one of the showers. She attempts to fight the urge to notice how well their bodies fit together.
She fails on all counts.
Lee helps her into the shower, pressing her up against the wall for balance and shutting the door after them. There’s an almost comical moment as they roam each other’s bodies with their eyes, and Kara can’t help smiling when her gaze drifts down over his chest, following the line of fine dark hair leading from his belly button to the dark curls around his cock. He’s just beginning to harden.
Instinctively she runs her tongue over her lips, drags her eyes back up to his face and promptly gets lost in all that blue.
“So,” Kara says.
“So,” Lee answers after a pause.
“Turn on the water, genius,” she teases.
“Right.” He reaches around her, twists the faucet and a fine hot spray erupts between them. For a moment she forgets all about Lee, forgets he’s standing there with her and just luxuriates in the warmth and cleansing of the water. She hasn’t been in a shower for almost two whole weeks now, and she intends to savour every moment of it that she can.
Though there are other benefits, too.
Lee takes a bar of soap from the small tray and holds his hands under the water, allowing a fine white coating of bubbles to appear. She expects him to grab one of the washcloths, expects but doesn’t want, and so it’s a welcome surprise when he gently takes her right arm in his left hand and begins moving the soapy hand up, carefully lathering her. His touch sends sparks down her arm.
“Frak me,” Kara mutters.
Instantly he pauses. “Something wrong?”
Colour’s rising to her cheeks now. “No, I just – I thought you’d use a cloth, that’s all.”
Lee is immediately agreeable. “I can if you want. This is just how I do it, though, and I thought …”
Kara briefly closes her eyes as her brain cheerfully supplies several images of him alone in the shower, soaping himself. “It’s fine,” she smiles, pleased at how casual she sounds. “Go ahead. Really.”
And so Lee begins again.
Gently he holds her just below her wrist, moving his other hand up and down until she’s fully lathered, and passes her arm through the spray. He reaches for her other arm and soaps from wrist to shoulder, fingers carefully scrubbing, and repeats the rinsing.
Kara wonders idly where he’ll go next. The unspoken question is answered almost immediately as Lee soaps his hand again and brushes it over her chest, tracing her collarbone and venturing lower, slowly, carefully, until he’s cupping her breast and tracing circles around her nipple. Not for the first time she wonders who’s really benefiting, him or her or both of them, and she’s about to make one of her patented Starbuck wisecracks when Lee thumbs her nipple and her world vanishes in a sea of pleasure as he massages it into a stiff pebbly peak. She tries to bite down on a moan, tries and fails.
Almost simultaneously the pace of his breathing picks up.
“Lee,” Kara mumbles, and she thinks maybe he should stop, but can’t come up with a reason why.
“Kara,” he answers, and his voice has turned low and husky. She chances a glance downwards, between them, and finds that her suspicion is correct.
Again she wants to make some kind of smart remark, potentially involving the Arrow of Apollo, but can’t find the words. And next moment she doesn’t care, with his fingers trailing soap down the middle of her belly towards her navel, and lower, lower, until his thumb presses her clit. As soon as that contact is made she forgets about her hands, forgets she needs to be careful, and lets her knees buckle. Once more instinct kicks in, her arms flinging out and about to slam, brutally so, into the tile wall of the shower.
Lee catches her.
She doesn’t know where his arms come from, because one moment he’s on his knees and the next his arms are around her and he’s clasping her tightly, her hands dangling over his shoulders like pendulums.
“Easy,” he whispers, and then, “Sorry, that was frakking stupid.”
Kara tries to muster the breath to agree with him. Her lips even start to form the word Yeah. But it gets lost.
It gets lost because she leans forward, and kisses him.
The heat is still in her belly and she knows that the wetness between her legs isn’t just from the shower, and that prompts her to deepen the kiss, to nibble at his lips, to poke her tongue out and lick him, long and slow. His hands are still on her back, and it’s driving her frakking crazy.
Lee responds. She wondered at first if he wouldn’t, but he does, and suddenly they’re locked in it, and desperately so. It occurs to Kara that maybe they should have started kissing first, but she doesn’t care very much about that either, not when their lips have parted and he’s licking so deliciously down her neck. He smells of soap and cinnamon and Lee.
Kara presses against him, feeling his fine chest hairs tickling her nipples and arousing her yet further. And he’s not stopping her, so she grinds. Slowly. A solid groan snakes from his mouth and their lips meet again, more fiercely, more possessively, but needy at the same time.
“Kara,” Lee says softly when they break for breath. “Let me finish.”
She blinks, confused for a moment, and he holds up his soap-covered hand. So she lets him, lets him turn her around and massage up and down her back. Only now the motions seem far more erotic, designed to turn her on rather than to scrub two weeks’ worth of grime from her skin. Not that she needs much help getting turned on, of course.
Lee rinses off the soap, puts his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back to him. Presses her against him once more, and the heat that had started to dissipate flares again instantly. Kara leans around him, nibbles his neck, wishes again that she had the use of her hands so that she could rake her nails along his back. The skin there is so perfect, moles and freckles dotted along its surface. It cries out to be touched. Marred with marks of her possession.
She settles for biting his shoulder, gently, and he groans again. It’s an almost pathetic sound, filled with need.
“Kara …” Lee whispers.
Her legs are already spread, waiting for him.
Kara always thought frakking in a shower was such an exciting notion, but strangely, she’s never actually done it before with any of her partners. Zak was so often running out the door in the morning to one or another early class, leaving her in the stall by herself to slip her hand between her legs and finish. They didn’t have proper showers on New Caprica, showers you could climb into with a partner and go to town. Not that this prevented her from being inventive with Sam, but it was different. Just different. And her other partners, all of them, were casual partners. Odds on they never saw any part of her apartment aside from her bedroom.
But this is Lee, and so Kara supposes in her more lucid moments that it’s fitting.
Shower sex, it develops, is much more romantic in the imagination than when attempted in actuality. She can’t brace herself against the walls, nor can she clutch him, so he’s forced to support both of them as he insinuates himself between her legs, arms circling to join behind her back and clasp her to him.
Kara would never go so far to call herself afraid, not in any circumstance. But she finds a new kind of security in Lee’s arms, a security of whose existence she was previously aware only briefly, in sickbay. This man knows the most intimate parts of her, and not only because he has made love to her. He knows them because he has seen her at her worst, deadened by pain. He knows them because he has helped her through the bandage changes. He knows them from the task he just performed for her in the head. He knows them, having seen past the armour of her callsign, Starbuck, and through to the woman underneath, Kara Thrace. Perhaps most importantly, he loves them both.
There is nothing further to be gained by not being herself.
So for the moment, irrevocably, she lets go. Lets go of everything. The fear, the doubt, the self-recriminations. Everything.
She moves with Lee as he thrusts, and it’s gentle and loving and everything she never expected a frak between them to be. He trails kisses down her jaw and up towards her ear, nibbling slowly, and she reciprocates even through the simultaneous understanding that it is not expected. Her head is on his chest when she comes with only the lightest whisper of his name. He knows, though, just as she knows moments later when he buries his face in her hair and fills her with his own climax.
Later Lee dresses her and tucks her into his rack, and Kara lets him because she’s run out of reasons to protest. She is just Kara, and although she has no doubt that she could call the Starbuck persona into being were it required, it isn’t at the moment. She is at peace. She can’t ever remember this feeling before.
Peace is not wondering when the gods will once again arrive to exact their pound of flesh. Peace is not waiting for the next air raid, the moment at which the bombs begin to fall.
Peace is learning to understand that those things will occur, and resolving to worry only when they do.
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Lee/Kara with mentions of Lee/Dee, Sam/Kara and Zak/Kara
Status: Complete. One chapter will be posted per day.
Word Count: 1,744 this chapter
Rating: NC-17 this chapter
Spoilers: Through S3's "Crossroads, Part 2"
Summary: Peace is not wondering when the gods will once again arrive to exact their pound of flesh. Peace is not waiting for the next air raid, the moment at which the bombs begin to fall.
Author's Notes: Sorry about the slightly late posting, everyone! This one's a bit shorter than the others, but hopefully the smutty contents will make up for that. ;) Note the rating change, if you haven't already, and scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea. :) As always, more extensive author's notes can be found here.
The shower feels like a relief for both of them. Perhaps it’s because when he lifts her tanks and thumbs down her pants it’s like they’re getting ready for a good hard frak, and that’s nothing new. Kara stands naked, her back to the sink, hands wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, and watches as Lee strips, trying not to think of what she’d do to him if she was able. She tries not to become sensitized to the feel of skin touching skin as they walk together towards one of the showers. She attempts to fight the urge to notice how well their bodies fit together.
She fails on all counts.
Lee helps her into the shower, pressing her up against the wall for balance and shutting the door after them. There’s an almost comical moment as they roam each other’s bodies with their eyes, and Kara can’t help smiling when her gaze drifts down over his chest, following the line of fine dark hair leading from his belly button to the dark curls around his cock. He’s just beginning to harden.
Instinctively she runs her tongue over her lips, drags her eyes back up to his face and promptly gets lost in all that blue.
“So,” Kara says.
“So,” Lee answers after a pause.
“Turn on the water, genius,” she teases.
“Right.” He reaches around her, twists the faucet and a fine hot spray erupts between them. For a moment she forgets all about Lee, forgets he’s standing there with her and just luxuriates in the warmth and cleansing of the water. She hasn’t been in a shower for almost two whole weeks now, and she intends to savour every moment of it that she can.
Though there are other benefits, too.
Lee takes a bar of soap from the small tray and holds his hands under the water, allowing a fine white coating of bubbles to appear. She expects him to grab one of the washcloths, expects but doesn’t want, and so it’s a welcome surprise when he gently takes her right arm in his left hand and begins moving the soapy hand up, carefully lathering her. His touch sends sparks down her arm.
“Frak me,” Kara mutters.
Instantly he pauses. “Something wrong?”
Colour’s rising to her cheeks now. “No, I just – I thought you’d use a cloth, that’s all.”
Lee is immediately agreeable. “I can if you want. This is just how I do it, though, and I thought …”
Kara briefly closes her eyes as her brain cheerfully supplies several images of him alone in the shower, soaping himself. “It’s fine,” she smiles, pleased at how casual she sounds. “Go ahead. Really.”
And so Lee begins again.
Gently he holds her just below her wrist, moving his other hand up and down until she’s fully lathered, and passes her arm through the spray. He reaches for her other arm and soaps from wrist to shoulder, fingers carefully scrubbing, and repeats the rinsing.
Kara wonders idly where he’ll go next. The unspoken question is answered almost immediately as Lee soaps his hand again and brushes it over her chest, tracing her collarbone and venturing lower, slowly, carefully, until he’s cupping her breast and tracing circles around her nipple. Not for the first time she wonders who’s really benefiting, him or her or both of them, and she’s about to make one of her patented Starbuck wisecracks when Lee thumbs her nipple and her world vanishes in a sea of pleasure as he massages it into a stiff pebbly peak. She tries to bite down on a moan, tries and fails.
Almost simultaneously the pace of his breathing picks up.
“Lee,” Kara mumbles, and she thinks maybe he should stop, but can’t come up with a reason why.
“Kara,” he answers, and his voice has turned low and husky. She chances a glance downwards, between them, and finds that her suspicion is correct.
Again she wants to make some kind of smart remark, potentially involving the Arrow of Apollo, but can’t find the words. And next moment she doesn’t care, with his fingers trailing soap down the middle of her belly towards her navel, and lower, lower, until his thumb presses her clit. As soon as that contact is made she forgets about her hands, forgets she needs to be careful, and lets her knees buckle. Once more instinct kicks in, her arms flinging out and about to slam, brutally so, into the tile wall of the shower.
Lee catches her.
She doesn’t know where his arms come from, because one moment he’s on his knees and the next his arms are around her and he’s clasping her tightly, her hands dangling over his shoulders like pendulums.
“Easy,” he whispers, and then, “Sorry, that was frakking stupid.”
Kara tries to muster the breath to agree with him. Her lips even start to form the word Yeah. But it gets lost.
It gets lost because she leans forward, and kisses him.
The heat is still in her belly and she knows that the wetness between her legs isn’t just from the shower, and that prompts her to deepen the kiss, to nibble at his lips, to poke her tongue out and lick him, long and slow. His hands are still on her back, and it’s driving her frakking crazy.
Lee responds. She wondered at first if he wouldn’t, but he does, and suddenly they’re locked in it, and desperately so. It occurs to Kara that maybe they should have started kissing first, but she doesn’t care very much about that either, not when their lips have parted and he’s licking so deliciously down her neck. He smells of soap and cinnamon and Lee.
Kara presses against him, feeling his fine chest hairs tickling her nipples and arousing her yet further. And he’s not stopping her, so she grinds. Slowly. A solid groan snakes from his mouth and their lips meet again, more fiercely, more possessively, but needy at the same time.
“Kara,” Lee says softly when they break for breath. “Let me finish.”
She blinks, confused for a moment, and he holds up his soap-covered hand. So she lets him, lets him turn her around and massage up and down her back. Only now the motions seem far more erotic, designed to turn her on rather than to scrub two weeks’ worth of grime from her skin. Not that she needs much help getting turned on, of course.
Lee rinses off the soap, puts his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back to him. Presses her against him once more, and the heat that had started to dissipate flares again instantly. Kara leans around him, nibbles his neck, wishes again that she had the use of her hands so that she could rake her nails along his back. The skin there is so perfect, moles and freckles dotted along its surface. It cries out to be touched. Marred with marks of her possession.
She settles for biting his shoulder, gently, and he groans again. It’s an almost pathetic sound, filled with need.
“Kara …” Lee whispers.
Her legs are already spread, waiting for him.
Kara always thought frakking in a shower was such an exciting notion, but strangely, she’s never actually done it before with any of her partners. Zak was so often running out the door in the morning to one or another early class, leaving her in the stall by herself to slip her hand between her legs and finish. They didn’t have proper showers on New Caprica, showers you could climb into with a partner and go to town. Not that this prevented her from being inventive with Sam, but it was different. Just different. And her other partners, all of them, were casual partners. Odds on they never saw any part of her apartment aside from her bedroom.
But this is Lee, and so Kara supposes in her more lucid moments that it’s fitting.
Shower sex, it develops, is much more romantic in the imagination than when attempted in actuality. She can’t brace herself against the walls, nor can she clutch him, so he’s forced to support both of them as he insinuates himself between her legs, arms circling to join behind her back and clasp her to him.
Kara would never go so far to call herself afraid, not in any circumstance. But she finds a new kind of security in Lee’s arms, a security of whose existence she was previously aware only briefly, in sickbay. This man knows the most intimate parts of her, and not only because he has made love to her. He knows them because he has seen her at her worst, deadened by pain. He knows them because he has helped her through the bandage changes. He knows them from the task he just performed for her in the head. He knows them, having seen past the armour of her callsign, Starbuck, and through to the woman underneath, Kara Thrace. Perhaps most importantly, he loves them both.
There is nothing further to be gained by not being herself.
So for the moment, irrevocably, she lets go. Lets go of everything. The fear, the doubt, the self-recriminations. Everything.
She moves with Lee as he thrusts, and it’s gentle and loving and everything she never expected a frak between them to be. He trails kisses down her jaw and up towards her ear, nibbling slowly, and she reciprocates even through the simultaneous understanding that it is not expected. Her head is on his chest when she comes with only the lightest whisper of his name. He knows, though, just as she knows moments later when he buries his face in her hair and fills her with his own climax.
Later Lee dresses her and tucks her into his rack, and Kara lets him because she’s run out of reasons to protest. She is just Kara, and although she has no doubt that she could call the Starbuck persona into being were it required, it isn’t at the moment. She is at peace. She can’t ever remember this feeling before.
Peace is not wondering when the gods will once again arrive to exact their pound of flesh. Peace is not waiting for the next air raid, the moment at which the bombs begin to fall.
Peace is learning to understand that those things will occur, and resolving to worry only when they do.