Mooning Over Green
Lee tossed the folders on the desk—the President's desk—and yawned as he tugged at his jacket sleeve to remove the offending item of clothing as quickly as possible. The tie had been pulled and wadded into a jacket pocket thirty minutes earlier, not long after the hatch hissed shut on the raptor, preparing for the jaunt between Galactica and Colonial One. Now the shoes were flung casually from toes to the wall; despite his compulsion for neatness, he was too exhausted and distracted to follow his typical impulses.
Padding over to the credenza, Lee poured himself a shot of ambrosia. It had to be one of the last real bottles of the spirit left; he should probably save it for more important occasions, but at the moment, he didn't follow that typical impulse either. He couldn't. There was one over-riding impulse he had, and it was the one he wasn't able to surrender to, the one he wanted most to satisfy.
He'd been in his father's quarters, just five hours ago, talking to her. For the first part of conversation, Lee had kept his eyes on the pages of the book of Scriptures they'd been discussing and had talked to her at an angle while she stood behind him. Kara Thrace—in uniform, hair pulled back severely, voice tuned to the business at hand—even like that, she was irresistible to him. He had to limit temptation as best he could.
That had been his driving impulse: pulling Kara into his chest, feeling the silkiness of her cheek, losing himself in the ever-renewing intensity of her kiss. If Lee dared to stare fully into those hypnotic viridescent eyes then, there'd be no stopping himself, and it was too dangerous.
The delicate balance between them, since her full re-instatement and return from the Demetrius—it was important to maintain that. Especially now. The responsibility for leading the fleet had fallen to the two of them at last, as Lee had always realized it would. He'd wanted to stop it, ignore it, sidestep it, but Fate would have no part in those plans. No, Fate was a stern authoritarian, brooking no opposition. Surely, Lee understood that by now.
But did Kara? She'd reached out at the end of their conversation, unexpectedly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it with both her own. Lee was powerless to stop his gaze from catching hers, and in that moment, he felt it happen. Mooning over green, as he'd come to think of it: the involuntary reaction of his heart skipping a beat whenever she let her soul communicate with his through those hazel eyes, whispering "you're important to me. Keep faith with me."
It never ended with the break of visual contact, either; for hours after, Lee would be distracted, sensually attuned, longing to find another reason to be near Kara, have the jolt of life strike into his heart again. He was drugged, and the effect faded gradually. Tonight, unfortunately, it wasn't fading at all.
He downed a second shot of liquor, then stripped off the remainder of his clothes. Lee shoved them to the side with his bare foot—gods, I must be in some state—and walked to the shower stall. Of the few ostensible perks of being President, this was, hands-down, Lee's favorite: a private shower with good water pressure and long-running hot water. As the water was turned on, the image of her face lingered behind his closed eyes. He felt an erection take hold, let hit build. If he couldn't answer his impulses one way, he could at least mute them another. He moaned as his hand went over the head his shaft, fingers gliding along his length, grip massaging his balls. I need this…too much. Gods, I need this…need her. Pausing momentarily to check the temperature of the water stream, he had one foot inside the stall when the chime for the door went off.
Frakkin' asshole, whoever you are! Lee thought, uncharitably. His hand was moving against his painfully hard erection again, unbidden, and he wanted desperately to be left alone, left to find his release and escape into sleep shortly thereafter. The chime sounded a second time. Lee had almost convinced himself he was going to pretend to be absent, wait for the intruder to leave, when his recognition of the female voice shouting to be heard through the door shifted his intent immediately. Kara.
In a fit of pique and sexual frustration, Lee yelled back. "Hold on one godsdamned minute, Thrace!" He was in a state, the ambrosia lowering his inhibitions to apparently dangerous levels. He wasn't going to hide his state of arousal, not now. Not from her. With a growl, he hitched his breath as the fabric from his sweatpants teased his erection. He wasn't aiming to anger her; it would be obvious, under his one piece of clothing, what he'd been thinking about, but opening the door naked might cross the line.
Lee slid the hatch open, peering around the door. Kara was standing there, a bemused look on her face, a bottle of industrial gut-rot in hand.
"Thought I'd stop by, bearing gifts." Her face shifted into a full-blown smirk.
"Good. So am I." Lee replied, returning her stare. He took pleasure in the perplexed look she returned.
Kara glided into the room. As soon as Lee sealed the hatch, she stepped up very close behind him.
"You've sampled your gift ahead of time, I see," Lee commented, secretly relieved Kara's mind wasn't likely to be any clearer than his own.
"Ummm, yeah. Shot of courage." Kara's hand touched Lee's bare arm; he shivered.
"You don't need that kind of courage to come visit, you know," he chided gently.
Kara moved away, and he wanted to moan from the cool air left in her wake. She set the bottle down, then walked to the credenza, spotting the already-used shot glass. "Oh. Guess you had a similar idea already?" Turning back around, Kara had a full-on view of Lee. The eyes narrowed, her mouth parting slightly, tongue involuntarily wetting her lips.
She stepped forward, wordlessly, then seemed to be struck by an unpleasant thought; her brow furrowed. "Did I…gods, if you aren't alone, I should—"
Lee shook his head. "Just you and me, Kara."
Kara tilted her face, chin jutting. "And who were you thinking of?" Her eyes—green, deep—they sparkled with hope, Lee thought.
"It's never anyone else, Kara. Gods help me, but it isn't." Lee stepped across the space, letting his body radiate heat only a half-inch from her skin. "Did we really have similar ideas?" His voice was sensual, but tinged with uncertainty.
Kara's arms slipped around his neck as she pressed her curves into him. His eyes shut as his erection twitched against her, a guttural sound rumbling from his throat. "Yeah, Lee, yeah, we did."
He allowed his eyes to open and drink in the hazel shimmering before him. "I missed you," he whispered urgently. "I missed you too," Kara answered back. Lee bent forward and kissed her. It was slow but fervent. He hadn't understood, before, what those three words meant to Kara, that it was her transliteration of I love you. I want you. I need you. Stay with me.
As Lee reveled in the sensations of her—the touch, the taste, the smell of this exotic creature who claimed him—his soul thrummed with the vibration of reconnection. He was never as much in himself as he was when he was with her: comfortable in his own skin, sure of his own heart. The way she was kissing him, holding him, murmuring words of emotional longing in his ear—it was dawning on Lee maybe she had finally realized the same. She was most herself with him. Him alone.
As he lifted Kara into his arms, carrying her against him in a way he'd never have been bold enough to attempt in the past—too romantic, too intimate, too much like real lovers—he smiled as she responded by nuzzling into his neck. He let his words vibrate sensually against her eardrum. "I've been mooning over you, Kara."
Her hand moved up to his face, turning him to her. A smile greeted his gaze. "I know, flyboy. I know. Me too."
Lee sighed. Maybe it was the sign he'd been waiting for: he wasn't going to have to moon over her any more, fight his impulses day after exhausting day. Maybe he was finally going to be able to surrender to his most essential need after all: the need to love and be loved by Kara Thrace.
End.