Summary: Lee explodes around her and the world explodes around her. A million more things explode, a million more things should but she can't remember them. Kara Thrace
Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Battlestar Galactica.
A/N: Spoilers for 'Maelstrom.' First time I've written Kara and I would appreciate any constructive criticism on characterization.
The world explodes around her and, she thinks, it's really not that bad. She doesn't feel the pain. She doesn't scream or strain. She sits, and watches the world explode around her. Her world, her ship, the kiss of death…
No, her first kiss. She sits with John on the side of the field, both sweaty from an intense game of tackle pyramid. All the other players have left and it is just they two. He speaks, she laughs. His hand wanders—shoulder, waist, thigh. He leans forward and she does the same and their lips touch. She's not sure if he's supposed to taste like grass or if that's just because she pushed his head into the dirt when she tackled him.
He pulls back and she sits for a moment before opening her eyes. They smile at each other and his hand drifts away from her thigh and finds her fingers. She seizes the opportunity, grabs his hand, holds it tight so he can't let go.
Her first steady boyfriend, hand on hers, and they walk down the street. They can't go all the way to her house, because her mother knowing would just make things complicated and right now she doesn't want to deal with complicated. That's why she chose Trent. She barely knew him before, and they can easily go back to being strangers when it's over...of course it'll be over some day. Isn't that the way it always goes?
There is a pleasant pattern being drawn on her hand by a thumb and she hopes that they never get home. If her house…just didn't appear, maybe they wouldn't have to break up some day. They could keep walking forever and never have to stop until they got too tired. But that won't happen and she sees the familiar sign that tells her it's time to let go. They stop walking and she brings his hand to her mouth. She kisses that tracing thumb and smiles up, putting a glint into her eyes. A laugh, a word about not getting off easy, and her body pulled flush against his.
Zak has slow, languorous lips that seduce her much slower and in a much more primal way than she is used to. His hands run down her back, pushing them even closer and she finds herself pulling her fingers through his hair. She forgot a long time ago that she's not supposed to get involved with her students, ever since he started brushing against her during training. Then he'd linger, fingers on her back, in her office after class. He would linger, just like he was now. He acts like he's got the world to kiss her in. He doesn't have it, she knows now. He doesn't have the right to take his time but he does it anyway, and she can't be angry because she's so reveling in the delicious spread of his fingers across her back.
His lips slide away from hers, pulling her under slowly as they trace her jaw line. Hot, moist breath under her chin. Fingers pressing at the small of her back. Stubble scraping her cheek. Lips on her neck.
Leoben's lips. She tries to pull back. Not right. Not right. His fingers grip at the base of her skull, pull her face to his, collide their lips together. She's disappointed that she's not more disgusted. Then again, maybe this is that Not-Leoben. She may as well just go with it, because she can't exactly remember why, but she knows she doesn't really have a choice now. His fingers reach for her buttons and she doesn't think anything any more. He's deft and soon has a hand spanning her bare stomach as his lips continue to span hers. He kisses kisses kisses her like he can't get enough even while he's doing it. He can't let it stop because it might not be real and she realizes what a sad man he is because it's not real and now he's in love with her but she's not real, either. She probably never was, not in the way that he wanted.
His lips glide, abruptly, down to her stomach. Somehow she knew exactly what he would do, how this would happen. This isn't real. It's just a dream, something implanted in her head. If he'd known about this years later, how he would have wept for joy.
A mouth kisses her stomach, engulfs her navel. Sam's head is all she sees when she looks down her body. It's strange, but it's been so long that she just doesn't care. It tickles; she laughs. She feels his lips curve up against her abs and smacks his head playfully.
With a lunge his head is now above hers and their lips meet. This is passion. She hasn't felt passion in so long. Baser emotions, desires, yes…but passion. Her body arches up and meets his and she remembers how much she hates being on the bottom for too long. She throws her arms around his neck, pushes their bodies together, and tries to roll. She tries again, and they rock and he rocks back. It's not just playful fun anymore, now she wants to show him who's boss. They keep rocking back and forth and they're really both idiots because soon they're rolling all over the bed and they fall off the side.
She lands on top of a body and sees Lee staring up at her from the grassy ground. She gets off of him and he sits up and he's not wearing a shirt and she smiles inside. She explores his chest with her fingers and he closes his eyes, pure elation. A gentle taper and she stops. Eyes flutter open, and everything that ever needed to be said between them is contained in that glance. He chokes up. This is it. She tries not to join him but feels a tear run down her cheek. This is it. It. They both move forward, perfect symmetry, and kiss.
It is pure, passionate, caring. It is everything. It lights up the world. Blinding. Lee explodes around her and the world explodes around her because this is it. A million more things explode, a million more things should but she can't remember them. It hits her, in the last fraction of a second. She is dying.