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5.

Lee didn't dare sleep, even though his limbs were leaden and his eyes heavy; didn't dare doze in case she slipped away. The rules of the game were a curse now; he wasn't supposed to want more - doubted he could move even if the bed was on fire, which had seemed all too possible while they writhed on it - and wasn't supposed to be pleased that she had stayed, but he did and he was. And if he slept, wrapped around her and in her and skin traced with her scent, he feared that she might not feel the same.

After all, casual fraks didn't stay the night, did they? Not unless they drifted out at dawn while their sleeping partner remained oblivious.

He couldn't say so - she was not sleeping yet - but he could think it: don't go. The way she looked, the hastily-dragged sheet that veiled her, the way she smiled small and secretive and satisfied... all gave him hope that she was as little eager to be gone as he was to see her going.

He was too tired to fight himself over this, too thrilled with the aftermath of something as unexpectedly unforgettable as this whole night has been, to remind himself of what he was supposed to want. It wasn't forgotten, just somehow unimportant; far more vital that she still be there when the sun appeared to turn the ocean golden and when his body regained enough energy to start again.

Lee watched her, thinking about that. He'd tasted her on her lips, the transfer of his fingers, and wanted to see if she was sweeter at the source; he'd frakked her deep and frantic and wanted to know if she would break as violently when he made it soft and painfully slow. He wanted to know how her nipples felt under his tongue.

They were visible - just - through the sheet; when she stretched, her arms limned in well-defined muscle, he gave into temptation and bent. Closing his mouth over one, he suckled against the cloth, grazing her with his teeth. Kara made a noise like a sleepy purr, her back arching slightly.

"Not satisfied?" she enquired, tilting her head at him as he disengaged; her grin was as smug as he imagined his own might look.

"Thoroughly" he told her. "Just... not for long."

"Ahh," she hauled herself up to an elbow, traced her fingers over his naked chest. "I can understand that."

It was wrong, all wrong, for what this was supposed to be; there shouldn't be this easy, comfortable banter. Lee knew he was staring, couldn't help reaching over to brush stray tendrils of hair back from her cheek. "I can't," he said, helplessly. "I can't get anything straight in my head. This -" he gestured at the bed, at their bodies lying close but not touching, "this doesn't happen to me."

"Looking like you do?" her tone was sceptical; Lee looked up, his smile faltering.

"That's not what I meant. I've done this before, but..."

Kara's smile widened, and she reached up, brushed a hand across his cheek. "Thanks," she told him softly.

One more unconcious, unintentional act: Lee leaned in and kissed her. Not the lusty kisses of the hallway or the testing ones of the sidewalk or the desperate ones when he'd been naked above her and in her, but just as intent. Slow and deep and tender. Full of meaning. When he pulled back, her eyes were closed and her pulse was pounding visibly at the base of her throat.

Then she opened her eyes - green-gold-brown in a swirling of colours, even in the dimness of the hotel lamps - and stared, drew a shuddering breath. "I..."

Lee smiled at her.

"I should get going," Kara said quietly, reached down to the floor for her underwear, turning her face away.

---

Her jeans and boots were tangled at the end of the bed, and she could feel his eyes boring into her back as she struggled with them. It would have helped if her hands weren't shaking too badly to unlace the boots. It would have helped if she wasn't wishing she could turn around and take it back, ask him if she could stay. It was past moonset, still raining and dark as space outside the glass, and the thought of leaving this room - leaving Lee - made her eyes prickle uncomfortably.

Just sex, she tried to remind herself. That's all it is, remember? Picket fences didn't fit too well with a flight schedule. Good - no, great - sex didn't necessarily mean love at first sight. She had a history of learning lessons the hard way, and didn't need a reminder now, no matter how easy it would be to interpret the way he kissed her as an open offer.

"No rush," he said, and his voice was funny. Distant, but shaky. Gods, she told herself. It means nothing. Just... courtesy. She felt the bed dip a little as he got up, heard him reach for his own jeans. His movements were slow when he walkedaround the half-wall and into the little kitchenette. "Want a bottle of water?"

"Yeah," she called over her shoulder, not game to look. He'd be over there, bare-chested, and this was already difficult enough. Unthinking she reached for her dogtags on the night-table; the metal was cold against her skin, so she shoved them into a pocket, reached down to retrieve her shirt. Lacing the ribbons behind her back with reluctant fingers turned out to be harder than she was able to manage.

The bed shifted again; Lee was sitting beside her. "Here" he said, nudged a waterbottle against her elbow. "Let me."

It was an echo she didn't need to hear. A memory flashed across her vision: her own reflection, mouth open and tossed tendrils of hair catching in it as she arched against his hands. Lee's fingers brushed bare skin as he threaded ribbons. Kara shivered.

"You're cold," he said quietly. "You don't have to go, you know."

"This is your room," she objected, her voice a little rougher than intended. Lee pulled back. "Sorry," she muttered. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Normally, I'd agree. But it's raining, and the bars closed hours ago, so unless you live in this hotel you've got to go out in it."

"It's ... not far."

"Then I'll walk you -"

Kara got up, the abrupt movement jarring him backwards. "What is this, Lee?"

He glared at her, ruffled a hand through his hair. "How the frak should I know? I didn't plan on any of this. I was just looking for -"

"That's what I thought."

Her jacket was rolled in his, dumped where they'd both left them by the door. The lining was damp; the garment was a sentimental favorite, a man's coat of brown leather, worn and not as warm as she might like considering the weather. She pulled it on, scented Lee's cologne on the collar, or maybe it had seeped into the leather where the jackets had lain entwined.

She knew his sweat was still on her skin, too.

"Look," she said quietly, turning back to see him at the window, his hand on the glass, "I'm sorry to be so curt, Lee, but I don't want to cross lines here. I can't afford to do that any more."

He walked over, stood just out of arm's reach, the lamplight gilding the lines of his muscles. "I understand."

His eyes said he did. She had to hope that it was true. "Thank you, Lee Adama," she told him, voice soft with honesty. "Things like this don't happen to me, either." Not waiting for an answer, Kara slipped out the door.

On the way down in the elevator, she pulled the dogtags out of her pocket and put them on, a tangible reminder of why she shouldn't want to change her mind. It wasn't until she looked up at dawn, having sat on the floor and stared out the rain falling on her balcony ever since she got back to the Fortuna, and saw her dogtags where she'd left them - lying with her discarded BDU's across her untouched bed - that she realised the ones around her neck were not her own.

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