(Back to the pilots. Don't read this at work or in public, unless you do read it at work or in public, in which case I disavow any consequences for doing so. You'll see why.)

Battlestar Olympus

+22:50:37

(Starbuck/Apollo)

The metal of the floor was cold against my bare back and ass. The sweat that had condensed on us cooled quickly, making me shiver slightly. This only further fired my already shot nerves, causing me to shudder even harder.

I would have wept for joy if my ribs were not being crushed by an equally shuddering body.

At that moment, I could safely say I had never hated Lee Adama more in my entire life.

Two and a half years and he hadn't lost his touch.

Two years. That's how long since I'd lived without remembering I was still alive.

Two hours. That's all she needed to bring me back to life.

It took all that was left of it my strengthnot to choke the life out of her.

Instead, I just lay there atop her, secure in the knowledge that this once she could run away from me.

What the frak had we just done? I wanted to laugh at the thought, which rather answered itself. The problem was Lee was heavy enough that I could only manage to breathe.

At least he hadn't let himself go to pot like last time. He was actually a little on the lean side now, but then he'd likely been subsisting on that algae mush. I doubt anyone could get fat on that crap.

Back to the original question: what the frak had we just done?

Other than, just possibly, given the girls another sibling, that is.

I cradle her to me. My single fantasy made real.

Is it possible this was just a fantasy? Could I just be lying in Life Station, dying of oxygen starvation and living this out in my head?

What would that mean for my father? For the Fleet? Amazingly, I couldn't give a flying frak.

All I cared was that Kara Thrace was wrapped around me, and I around her.

And if this was my dream while dying, there were worse ways to expire.

The...the frakker! The absolute gall of Lee-frakking-Adama hadn't diminished in the slightest.

I said, "Let's go collect the girls." What did he do?

Forced the door shut and kissed me, of course.

Naturally I was too shocked to tell him to frak off and that it wasn't the time and I sure as hell wasn't about to have a...a reunion with him in a supply closet.

So he kept kissing me.

I didn't mean to do more than just kiss her. Just one kiss. Just to convince myself I wasn't dreaming..

That alone should have earned me a right-hook to the chin. Even better proof it was really her, though, strangely, it wasn't forthcoming.

Maybe it was pure shock on her part...our part. Both of us too surprised by all this to really react as we normally would.

It was the only excuse I could conceive for the fact, I was doing some deep tongue exploration... and that she was allowing it.

I would claim 'Bacchanalia amnesty'. Leoben dancing me like a puppet. Complete insanity. Something, anything, other than lucid thought.

To my dying breath, I would never admit I consciously, deliberately, began tearing the buttons of his shirt open. I did not even bother worrying about his tie; I just started pulling.

The frakker chose that moment to move closer, making the mechanics of undoing buttons infinitely more difficult than plotting FTL jumps.

The moan that rumbled out of me at the first touch of his skin to my fingers is nothing other than me trying to breath around that oh-so-talented tongue.

If I had any sense, I'd have bitten that tongue.

If I had any sense, which at this point I didn't.

I could always say "she started it", given it was her pulling my shirt open.

Not that I had objected, or attempted to stop her.

If I had any sense, I'd have stopped this right there.

If I had any sense, I'd have kept my hands away from her belt.

And I certainly wouldn't have begun tugging at the buttons of her jacket either.

If I had the tiniest bit of reason left, that is.

Reason deserted me the second he managed to work my belt loose. The buttons of my jacket were goners a couple of seconds after that.

Not that I was idle either. Well, my hands weren't anyway.

It was his turn to groan as I cupped him below his beltline.

I resisted the urge to squeeze, but only just.

Only because he'd pulled my jacket off and was making equally short work of my bra.

I kind of lost it after that.

The growl that rumbled through her was enough to make me pull away. I pulled back; ready to meet the rage that should have lit those perfect hazel eyes.

Something equally feral was there. She gave me no time to contemplate it, pulling my own jacket off and grabbing at my shirt, pulling me to her no less desperately.

Our tongues dueled equally. Fumbling efforts by either of us with the other's clothes did not interrupt this.

Where fingers found hold on bare flesh, our fingernails left welts. Some lighter than others.

With a final effort of purest will, I pulled away from her again and almost completely out of her grip. I stumbled slightly, angrily kicking my trousers and shoes away.

Her hunter's eyes, shining a still, fixed upon me as her perfect lips curved into hungry smile.

The sight alone was nearly enough to have me burst forward.

But she moved first.

I knew the frakker too well. He would come close to his so-called senses that he paused and pulled back. I could see the first flash of doubt there.

Lee's principles without fail squirmed back between us. Any second and he'd be running out of the room, modesty and position be damned, all because he couldn't handle a straight frak between us.

Yeah, right.

I toed off my boots and all but leapt onto him, knocking his knees so we collapsed to the floor. I straddled him just above his hips, entirely too close to the aforementioned beltline.

I wasn't willing to risk letting him run, not anymore. As an object lesson, I quickly reached back and cupped him again.

This time I squeezed just enough to get his attention.

I groaned again, her teasing fingers nearly undoing me.

Then I snarled and managed to sit up enough to pull those oh-so-talented fingers off.

I pinned her arms behind her back with one hand and steadied myself with the other.

My lips and teeth found one stone-hard nipple.

“Motherfrakker!” she ground out, arching into me as I left my mark.

It took some struggle, but I got my hands free. He’d moved to the other breast by then and I wrapped both arms around his head, keeping him firmly in place.

I swore silently I’d kill him if he left me hanging much longer.

My curses hissed into his thick hair, promising the wrath of all Twelve Lords of Kobol and few others besides, were intermixed with the tears that welled.

I hated this man, the unspoken center and focus of my life for as long as I’d drawn breath.

I hated the hold he had on me.

I hated the fire his touch lit on my skin and in my soul.

I hated that the gods had demanded we be separated for so long.

Most of all, I hated that he made it impossible to say the words that would release us both.

What happened next was inevitable. It might as well have been decreed by Pallas herself.

We weren’t humans anymore. We were animals, primal and unfettered.

Clothing was pulled aside and discarded.

We savaged each other, fitting together as perfectly as if we were born so.

Neither of us cried out. Our voices could not have matched the raw energies driving us.

There was no control, no gentleness, no caution.

Gods help and damn me, I needed this, needed her like this.

I’d never needed anything more.

We made no sound the whole while.

I wondered if we even breathed.

Certainly, I was beyond exhausted by the time he collapsed atop me, panting and twitching.

I didn’t dare close my eyes for fear this would be nothing but a dream.

Exhausted as I was, Morpheus barred me from sleep. Or so I thought for a moment.

I wanted to laugh. When had I started believing in the gods and goddesses?

When I had one in my arms on the metal floor of a battlestar not of Colonial construction, I supposed.

It felt like my bones were made of lead, yet I raised myself upright enough to meet her shinning eyes.

“Hate me?” I breathed.

“Until the day we die.”

“Fine with me.”

I brought our lips together, chaste and calm this time, sealing the bargain.

Letting my head fall back to the floor, I shivered but only from the cold.

The shock, the magnitude of what just happened, would come later. I reached for something mundane and manageable to hold to next.

“We need to collect the girls.”

I could see what she was doing clear as day. All this has happened before: at the Academy, Colonial Day, New Caprica, the temple on Galactica.

Damn me to Tartarus if I let it happen again.

I quickly shifted myself so I was literally sitting on her hips, keeping her prone.

“How are we going to work the logistics of this?”

“Excuse me?”

Now I was shaking from something other than the cold of the floor.

The frakker kept me distracted by running his hands up and down my arms.

“How are we going to handle having three children on two different ships?”

My voice was patient and my tone even.

My eyes told her we weren’t going to do the same dance anymore.

“I…I can’t leave Olympus, Lee. Ben…Secretary Richards and Admiral Rice won’t let me.”

It was a truth that rang hollow, even to my own ears.

“I can’t go aboard Galactica,” I added, my voice suddenly soft and weak.

“Can’t or won’t?”

It frankly didn’t matter to me what the reasons were. I’d claim familiar rights based on the First Covenant if I had to. She’d kill me afterwards for telling everyone, but at least I’d die happy.

Not that dying was on my agenda, not any longer.

I frowned at the one possible complication that might arise.

“Are you bound to anyone? To Secretary Richards…?”

“What? No! Gods, Ben’s so hung up on a dead woman he’s…no.”

I tried to sit up, but Lee chose that moment to push down, pinning my arms to the floor.

Oh gods. I suddenly realized how serious he was about this.

Why didn’t the thought scare me as much as it used to?

“Ben is a friend, Lee. Nothing else, I swear. And no, I’m not…bound…to anyone here.” I shifted a little, cramps starting to form in my lower back.

“Are you going to let me sit up?”

I shook my head, grinning. “Not just yet. Not until we’ve worked this out.” I bored into her eyes.

“No more running, Kara. You try flying off; I will be on your six. You die on us; I’ll be right behind Charon’s barge, swimming across Styx to drag you back.”

She looked at me, eyes wide at my audacity. She even looked…scared.

Hades, I was scared of me and what I would do right then.

He’d have done it, too, whatever it took. I could see it clearly how he would wrest of us free of the Fates with his bare hands. He’d throw down with Zeus if that’s what it took.

He’d do it, and I…I would let him. Or join him doing it.

The images this conjured nearly had me laughing at the blasphemy. It was either that or I’d start crying.

I knew I could tell him “no” and he’d stop this. I could tell him to leave and he’d walk away.

I might as well try telling my heart to stop beating or my lungs stop demanding air.

The gods decreed I was “special”. I’d never asked to be so but there it was.

So what did that make Lee, I wondered.

“Okay,” I breathed. It took some doing, but I calmed enough to come up with a decent plan.

“You won’t come back, so I’ll let the President and Admiral know the girls and I are moving aboard Olympus.”

“Are you out of your frakking mind, Adama?” I growled. “Get off me!”

The look he pinned me with stopped my struggles and slaughtered all objections.

“You came to me, twice, after your Viper blew up. What does that tell you?”

She stopped struggling, breathing hard and looking ready to collapse.

I steeled myself for the rejection that would surely kill me on the spot. I idly wondered if the gods would welcome or damn me.

“I’ll…you tell your father and the President, I’ll tell Ben and Rice.”

I had nearly 11 and a half stone of self-righteous Adama crushing me. So why did it feel like I’d just thrown a battlestar off my chest?

“You…you mean it?”

The bitch hadn’t lost her ability to stump me. Even when I was on top.

“Get off me, Apollo,” I moaned tiredly.

He did so, crouching carefully beside me and watching with equal care as I sat up. My back hadn’t felt like this since I’d hit my third trimester. I promised myself he’d pay for that later.

Chewing my lip, I debated whether to kiss those pouting lips of his or blacken his right eye. Both held distinct temptations.

Instead of either however, I started groping for my underwear and uniform. “I get to paint it,” I threw over my shoulder as I struggled my bra back on.

His confused look was almost too adorable by half.

“Paint…what?”

Her glance at me was directed downwards. I unconsciously closed my legs together protectively.

Then she laughed. Her first, real laugh.

It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

“The porch swing,” I amended, with a chuckle. “And the house.”

“The…porch swing?”

I stared at her dumbly, then remembered our beer-soaked daydreams from years ago.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” She rolled her eyes and added, “And the whole house.”

I suddenly had a terrible image of modest house on the seaside, its walls and porch swing colored the most eye-numbing mixtures of neon yellow, blue and green imaginable.

“Okay, fine.”

“Okay, fine,” I echoed, doing up the remaining buttons on my jacket. “Frak,” I muttered, finding two of them had popped off. I had to search for my pants as well.

I eyed Lee again, who was still crouching there, watching me. “Get your clothes on, Apollo,” I ordered, not fighting the grin that came.

She grinned. That smart-ass grin and the wink that came with it.

That’s when I knew it was her, that this was real.

Then I realized what we’d done and what she’d said.

I was on my feet and spinning her into my arms, again.

This time I was well aware of where this would go the instant our lips me.

We both did, and didn’t even try to fight it.

He grabbed me and kissed me again.

I pulled back, trying to be outraged. Then I saw his eyes.

“Frak it,” I growled, and pulled him back in.

The porch swing could wait.

TBC…

De Author Seez: well, there you have it: my first and likely only attempt at writing Pilot!Sex. Liked it, hated it, got you fired from your job? The review button is waiting!

The agreement about who gets to "paint the porch swing" can be credited to zefire2's "Departure", which can be found over on the Beyond Insane LiveJournal community (April 4th, 2008). Check it out.