| Current mood: |  amused |
| Current music: | Coldplay - A Rush of Blood... |
fic: Not Quite Any
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: er... 18ish.
Pairing: Sam Carter/Kara Thrace (duh) references: Kara/Anders, Kara/Lee
Spoilers: Through Unfinished Business. Yes. This is almost canon (except for the part where Sam Carter doesn't exist in canon).
Notes: This is ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
meeshy's fault. It is also angsty. And, apparently, I have morally relativistic issues. Hrm.
Not Quite Any
by ALC Punk!
Kara came to her. In the end, Sam thinks she'll blame that, and not the thousand other things she should blame.
Came to her and stands so close that Sam knows if she turns--if she turns, Kara will kiss her. It has been over a year and a half, and her mouth goes dry at the thought. She's married, Sam reminds herself.
Married and happy with her husband, and alive.
So alive Sam remembers crying on Racetrack when she found out (Racetrack had smacked her upside the head) Kara hadn't been one of the people the cylons had killed.
"Carter."
The word has a wealth of meaning and too much history behind it and Sam feels her hands tightening and she reaches out and flattens her palms on the wall. Don't turn around. "Thrace. Or is it Anders?"
"You know better than that."
Closer still, and Sam can feel her breath on the back of her neck. It goes through her like a bullet, memory overlaying her nerves. Note to self: get laid soon. "Thrace, then."
"Turn around."
No. But it's inevitable. She has to, or she can't look Kara in the eye and tell her to go back to her husband. Or to Apollo. Sam's heard that rumor, too. "Why?"
"So you can frakkin' talk to me?" Kara's exasperated, tone edged with something Sam refuses to name.
"We are talking." The words are logical, precise. Sam isn't feeling either, right now. She's feeling the heat from Kara's body and the year spent celibate, and the lack of an excuse to run from the auxiliary officers' quarters she'd been assigned to. Married. Her brain isn't working right, or she could have half a dozen excuses in ten seconds flat.
"Carter. Damnit, turn around."
"That an order, Captain?"
"Sam..."
There's something lost in Kara's voice and it breaks Sam's tenuous hold on logic and reality. She turns and stares at Kara, drinking her in. She's not allowed to look at Kara. Not since she was another person's wife, a man's woman, taken and bound to him by love and words and dark lines of ink. Looking hurts too much. "Happy?"
"Yeah."
Sam'd been right about the kissing.
"Kara, don't."
Kara's lips slide along her cheek, one hand clasping her shoulder as she balances, "Why not?"
Suddenly angry, Sam jerks back and finds herself trapped against the wall. "What, Apollo and Anders aren't good enough for you anymore?" The words are brittle.
"Carter."
"No." Sam braces her hands against Kara's shoulders. "I'm not going to be the person you come to when you need sex and the other two are too pissed at you for it. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to them."
"Sam. Sam, that's not what--"
"Isn't it?" Sam's voice is bitter as she lets Kara's shoulders go, her chin dropping. "You need to get laid and I'll do. And you know I like sex with you. It's a pretty frakkin' simple equation, Kara."
"Shut up."
"Make me." The words are a taunt, and Sam regrets them the second they're out of her mouth.
Kara doesn't give her time to take them back. And this kiss is harsh with anger and things left unsaid on both their sides. A whimper escapes Sam before her hand comes up to cup the back of Kara's head, holding her in place. A soft sound of approval echoes from Kara and her body presses against Sam's, one leg nudging between Sam's.
I want this. The words scare her as much as they admit the truth she tries to hide. For better or for worse--whatever pain this will cause, Sam wants Kara. And given the way Kara is kissing her, it's mutual.
Of course, Kara wouldn't be here if it wasn't mutual. Kara would be with her husband or Lee Adama, she wouldn't be kissing Sam Carter like her life depends on it. Sam thinks--she always thinks too much, even about sex--that there should be guilt. That she should be stopping this before it starts. But she tried, and it's far too late for anything but guilt after the fact.
Because, much as she might want to be the fleet's Golden Girl, the goody-two-shoes her academy classmates always called her, she knows she isn't. She's human, and she could care less who she's hurting.
It's the last coherent thought Sam has before Kara's mouth drifts down her neck in soft little bites that leave her knees week.
Kara's hands are at her waist, tugging up her shirts and Sam arches into the touch. Wall at her back, Kara pressed against her front and her skin is on fire with need. Kara's lips separate from her neck and Sam moans a protest that ends in a soft gasp when Kara bites the skin above her breasts (when had her shirts been pushed up?).
A hand slips down the front of her pants, fingers teasing her through her underwear.
I'm not this easy, Sam wants to say, but there's something desperate in her, and all she can do is feel. Kara's lips on her skin, Kara's fingers against her cunt, Kara's body against hers.
When she comes, it's too fast and her breathing doesn't have time to catch up before Kara is pulling her away from the wall and yanking at their clothing. Sam catches her frenzy and with shaking hands gets her pants and boots off. Kara isn't wearing her boots, she notices two seconds before sure hands push her down on the rack and Kara's naked skin slides along hers.
Fingers tangle against each other as they kiss. A fight for dominance that Sam only recognizes every thirty seconds. She has the brain to force her thighs between Kara's, one hand following the line of her own skin to repay the orgasm.
Sam has the control to take it slower, but Kara's impatient.
Too soon, she catches that fire, and Kara's crying out against her shoulder, sweat slick on her skin.
Lips press against Sam's throat.
"I needed that," Kara whispers.
And now there is guilt spilling across Sam's mind, across her skin like a bloodstain. But it's not enough to make her let Kara go so easily. She moves, wrapping her arms around Kara before the woman can leave her bed. "Good."
"Sam, I--"
"You don't get to leave this easily," Sam says, hands linking behind Kara's back. "You don't get to fuck me and run off, happy and buzzed again."
"Carter, I would never do that."
"Yeah?" Disbelief in her tone, Sam shakes her head. "I know you, Thrace. I've known you for how long now?"
"Long enough."
"Exactly."
Kara doesn't struggle, but she shifts slightly and then relaxes against Sam, "My ass is cold."
"So get a damn blanket."
"You're laying on them."
"Fine." Releasing Kara, Sam pushes at her and wriggles to get the blankets free.
"Keep that up, honey, and you won't be sleeping."
That stops Sam cold, and she realizes that this was what she wanted and it wasn't. Irritated at herself for being so malleable in Kara's hands, she slithers away and stands. Her shirts are inside-out, but she pulls them on anyway before hunting out her pants.
"Sam?"
"Try not to forget your boots when you leave," And Sam sucks in a breath, because it hurts now. This was stupid...
"Fine."
Sam grabs her own boots and doesn't bother with her underwear or socks. She's walked Galactica barefoot before, she can do it again. "And don't bother coming back."
"Great. Thanks."
There's no answer she can give to that, so she slams the hatch open and runs.
Running is better than facing what she's just done. Running is certainly better than deciding she loves Kara Thrace when Kara Thrace isn't capable of loving anyone without complications.
Sam ends up in one of the small storerooms the civilians had used and curls up for the few hours' sleep she'll get before CAP in the morning.
-f-
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