Disclaimer: not mine.
Rating: 18+. There is porn here.
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders Spoilers: Up into 'Unfinished Business.
Genre: ...smutty angst? This certainly isn't gen.
Words: 1,400ish Notes: This is to be blamed on rhisilverflame.

Photographs Last Longer by ALC Punk!

Sam doesn't remember taking his boots off, but he's aware enough to note Kara dropping them outside the hatch. He closes it, pinning her against the metal and kissing her hungrily. Her kiss back is just as hungry, and he can feel her arching against him, one leg hooking behind his insistently.

The metal gives him leverage, and he grinds against her, swallowing her gasps with his mouth, hands busy at her waist. Tugging up her shirts and and splaying across her ribs until she shoves at his shoulder. "Sam--"

Not willing to give up her lips just yet, he keeps her pinned, mouth sucking on hers. Distraction is required, and he easily slips his hand into her pants. Gets between her hips and his leg and cups her.

"Frak," she growls and shoves at him again.

He lets her, this time, because he's got a better plan than just a hasty frak against a door. Sam's on his knees before she figures him out, hands yanking at her pants and underwear until they're around her feet. One second, and his mouth is on her belly, licking and biting as her fingers wind into his hair. "Sam."

This isn't what she wants.

She's harder-edged, now. Muscles tense in ways he isn't used to, and he doesn't care. He's not frakking her fast and cheap.

A groan escapes her when he drops kisses feather-light across her stomach. Right over the scars, and he stops to trace the middle with his tongue, feeling her tense further. "Kara--"

"Shut up."

One of her hands yanks at him, trying to pull him up. He resists, pressing his advantage and leverage. He didn't have sex with her for over a year and not learn certain things about her body. A deft twist, and one of her legs is over his shoulder, pulling her open.

A breath escapes her and he doesn't give her a chance to recover. Her body arches up, hips grinding down. He can feel the pulse in her veins, can smell the sweat and taste the tang of her. He's missed this. He gives himself time to think that as his mouth and tongue work across her. She could stop him, now. He's being delicate and careful, and she could yank him free.

She doesn't.

But she doesn't say a word when she comes, doesn't do anything but convulse, and Sam doesn't let up. He shoves upwards, pulling her leg free and standing in one move. His fingers replace his mouth and he's kissing her almost desperately.

Kara's hand grips his shoulder and pushes, "Bed."

It's easier to obey. Besides, his knees are objecting to their treatment. They undress swiftly, although Sam almost trips over his pants. Then she shoves him onto his back and pounces.

And somehow, it's easy to forget for a moment, that this isn't the same woman he married. That this is the woman who wants to hurt him, the woman who wants cheap sex and no commitments. At least, he's assuming that. He thinks, in brief moments when he's not occupied with how hot his wife is, that he wants more again. That he wants all of her.

Then there's nothing but the way she feels and the sounds she's making and he has to run his hands up her back just to keep her from hitting her head on the bunk above them.

For just an instant, as she's arched above him, he remembers what it was like to stand in front of a priest. The sun shone, his head hurt from the alcohol, and Kara was vibrantly happy against his side. Giddy with it, laughing as she repeated her vows.

And he thinks, as she collapses against him, as his own climax comes, that he wants that back.

He's just not sure he'll ever get it.

A moment, and then Kara is moving off of him, climbing out of the rack. He watches her dress, knowing that she doesn't want his words. And he hates himself, just a little, for being this easy.


The second time Kara drags him to officer country, Sam clearly remembers her dragging one of the other pilots out before slamming the hatch. Sam opens it again to drop her boots and gets a look from the kid that makes him wonder how many people on the Galactica are in love with his wife.

Kara takes charge before he gets a chance. Hand in his pants and he almost comes right then and there, but he won't give her the satisfaction. She backs, hits the table and clambers half on it, tugging at him. Tripping over her pants, he almost takes them both to the floor, but catches himself on the chair next to the table. "Kara--"

"Shut up."

He doesn't exactly want to obey, but he shuts up and kisses her. The hand in his pants tugs until he's pressed up against her.

With no grace, he hooks his hand under her hip and shifts her.

"Cold," she growls.

His pants come undone and he reaches down to help push them out of the way before she grapples at him and pulls. "Ow--Kara--"

And she shifts her hips, a laugh escaping her that ends on a gasp as he slips into her.

The position is too awkward, though, and after he bangs into the table and yelps once, he makes a decision and shoves her further onto the table. "Stay."


He eyes the table. "It's not sturdy enough."

"Fine." She clambers off and shoves him towards the bed.

He whirls and catches her against his chest. "I'm not some piece of meat, Kara."

"Yeah?" A laugh escapes her again and she grabs him again, hand almost painfully tigh. "Could've fooled me."

Getting her onto the bed isn't hard and Sam doesn't give her time to flip him onto his back, just pins her and goes for her hands. She arches and curses at him a second before he slides home.

It's fast. She's so close, he has the feeling he could breathe on her and she'd come, but he retains just enough control to drag it out. He lets her hands go without thinking about it and she rakes her nails down his back. Blunt and short though they are, it hurts. He yelps, even as he feels her go over the edge.

Her hips twist, and he's gone, too, mouth on her neck and breath escaping too fast.


Sam leaves first the third time. Kara's still bent over the table while he pulls his pants up, resolutely telling himself he won't say a gods-damned thing about wanting her back. He almost trips over his boots when he leaves.


It's more than frakking. He tries to convince himself of that while he goes down on her in the head. It's a random encounter, this time. At least, he doesn't think she planned to run into him as she left the showers. He doesn't care. She's making that sound he used to hear on New Caprica, and he wonders if she even knows it.

When she's finished, she shoves him out of the way, not even offering a handjob. He lets her go.

He's not stupid enough to force his wife to do anything.


She's giggling, this time. Laughing at him when he drops his boots and he gropes her and shoves her towards the bed. It's different, this time. Somehow, they end up spooned, her back to his front and there's not enough room in the rack to get any sort of movement, but he can run his hands along her to his heart's content.

They're both soaked in sweat by the time they're done, and he can't help the feeling of contentment he gets when she flops next to him.

It's a fatal mistake to snuggle into her, to breathe in her scent and to kiss her ear.

Because he really isn't anything but a good frak to her. She makes that clear as she dresses and moves towards the hatch. Calling him 'Sammy' is icing on the cake. He hates himself just a little more after she's gone.