lyssie: (kara anders porn happens)
lyssie ([personal profile] lyssie) wrote2008-03-26 03:53 pm

fic: newbsg, OT4, longass title, NC17

disclaimer: So very much not mine.
Spoilers: season three, and there's speculation for something that is supposedly occuring in season four.
Pairings: Sharon Agathon/Karl Agathon, Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Kara/Sharon/Sam/Karl
Rating: I'm'a go with NC17, here. Porn, porn, swearing, and porn. het, boyslash, girlslash
Length: 6,000 words
Notes: *shakes fist* I was supposed to be working on something else, but this wouldn't go away. Bah. Possibly very ooc. I don't know anymore.

these walls will never see me just to save me
by ALC Punk!

'Come to your senses
Wager a risk'
- Kittie 'Safe'

It's this damned ship. Close quarters, sweltering heat, and the stench underneath it all. Karl blames the ship, because it's easy. Because he watches his wife, and the way she flinches anytime she's near Kara--like they're on the same wave-length now, broadcasting on a frequency humans can't hear--and he doesn't want to think about Sharon deciding Kara is a risk to her own personhood.

A deep thought, for Karl Agathon, one usually followed by the smell of Sharon's blood after he fired the gun (blood on his hands, in his nostrils and on his skin--he'd spent so long in the head, washing it off, that the water was ice-cold ten minutes before he was done).

So he avoids those deep thoughts, and does his best to distract her.


Her head jerks and she looks at him, licking her lips like they're cracked and dry even though there's sweat beading on her neck.

For an instant, Karl thinks of leaning over, of licking the droplets up and tasting her instead of just smelling this place. The thought shoots right down through his body, and he wonders that he thought it couldn't get hotter in this frakking ship.

"Helo?" Her voice is low, like maybe she's thinking the same things he is.

They're here, Hera is safe (Adama promised she would be watched over and he might be the only man both of them trust anymore). And they're alone (mostly). Karl has to remind himself that Kara's not speaking to Sharon or Sam, Sam's not speaking to Kara, Sharon's not speaking to Kara, and he himself is... speaking to all of them. Gods. He's such an easy idiot, sometimes.

"Let's get out of here." He's got her hand in his, pulling her down the hallway, his free hand trying doors until one opens into a tiny closet. It's not ideal, it's not even comfortable-looking, but it's all they've got.

Sharon pushes him in, making a soft little sound that he recognizes from nights when Hera has finally gone to sleep and they have time to themselves.

He lets her pin him up against the wall.

Kissing, touching her face, raises the temperature but he stops caring. Sharon drags his tanks up and he doesn't notice the hot metal at his back until she curses and pulls him away from the wall. "Helo?"


She ducks under his arm, stares at his back, then shrugs, "You could've been burned."

"Baby," he grabs her face and kisses her, trying to ignore the heat, "I am getting burned."

A snicker escapes her and then she kisses him back, hands brushing up and down his skin before she turns them, leaning herself up against the wall.

Now, Karl can feel the heat coming off the wall. He puts his palm on it, and winces, "Maybe this isn't the best place--"

"Where else? Shit, frak," she growls, dragging her pants open and shoving them down her legs. Those long long legs that he sometimes can't get enough of. Karl moans, losing his train of thought when she looks up at him. "I need this, Helo. It's been too frakking long."

Which is an order to get naked, he figures, so he starts getting his own pants off, only he forgot about his boots (Sharon doesn't seem to ever forget her boots), and trips when leans over, and then Sharon is laughing, giggling as she slides down the wall a little, like her legs can't hold her up.

Karl stares at her from his half-sideways-upside-down perch on the floor, and has to admit, that maybe, it is funny. Here he just wants to have sex with his wife, and the world, the universe, the entire frakking cosmos, is trying to stop him. "It's not funny," he says, though, 'cause he still has his pride.

"Yeah, yeah it is," Sharon argues, and then she's up on her hands and knees and crawling over him, helping him up, and then--

OK. Maybe it is funny, he decides, with her hand pressed against where he's hard. Shit, he forgot to take his underwear off in his spectacular feat of logic earlier. Sharon doesn't seem to care, though, her fingers tugging the waistband out of the way while she dips her head, mouth brushing his neck.

Get with the program, Karl, he snaps at himself. His hand push up a little, and he wriggles out of his white underwear (fleet issue, and gods hope they last forever) with her help.

There's not enough room for them to lie down, but Sharon doesn't seem to care as she pushes at his shoulders until he's slamming into the wall again (this one not so hot), or maybe it's the door. He stops caring, though, because she climbs the rest of the way onto him, legs straddling his hips and mouth sucking at his.

Slippery with sweat, he can't get a good grip on her to help, but she doesn't seem to need it--they both moan when she takes him inside of her. She's wet and hot around him--hotter than the room, and he has a crazy thought about Cylon body temperature being higher than human normal before she kisses him again.

Karl has fragments of memory; battlestars don't have weather, but planets do. It was like this on Caprica, with the rain falling on them. Cold water, cold rain, but they were so hot when they moved together, Karl could swear he saw steam. There's no rain here, but there's definitely steam and heat. He might burn up from the inside-out, but, damn, he's going to enjoy it.

He's half-aware of moving his hands over her--back, sides, breasts. Gods, he loves her breasts. Her hands are bracing against the wall, extra leverage that has her grinding down against him.

When Sharon comes, it feels too soon. And she's not quiet, in the small space of the closet she sounds louder than she did in the open woods. Louder than she is in their quarters (but then, they've got a small child to think of, and sex isn't exactly something either wants to educate her on yet).

The tail end of her orgasm is more than hot enough to drag him after her (if he doesn't, he might die of heat exhaustion), and he's not thinking enough to keep quiet.

Sharon slumps against him, trying to slow her breathing, even though it's too frakking hot to be cuddled this close.

"Frak--" he breaks off, hearing footsteps before someone bangs on the door.

The door he's leaning against. Karl would laugh if he had the air to. Sharon is laughing, shaking with giggles against him while Anders shouts from the other side of the door, asking if they're all right.


"Of course they're ok, you idiot."

Sam doesn't even turn to look at her, because if he does, he might walk away. "What the frak do you mean by that?"

Too late, he realizes she's moved up right behind him, her breath hot on his neck (hotter than this gods-forsaken ship--does he even have the right to swear to the gods anymore?), "They're havin' sex, Sammy." Kara laughs, a little breathlessly, "The Cylon is having sex with my best friend."

Oh. Sam almost bangs his head against the door, because, shit, he should have figured that out on his own. Maybe this frakking heat is scrambling his brains. Or maybe Kara is. He reminds himself he doesn't want to talk to her, but since she's right there, he can't exactly escape her. "Kara--" his voice chokes a little, because the last time they talked--

"That get you hot, Sammy?" Her mouth is right up against his ear and she's got to be on her toes. "Helo, with his hands all over Sharon, while she--"

He turns, catching her off-balance and actually manages to get her pinned up against the door before her body catches up with his and she pushes at him. "That what you want, Kara?" he demands, "To find out my breaking-point?"

"You got one, Sam?" She snaps, hands on his chest to shove him away.

Funny, but she's not really trying. He shrugs, "Yeah, I got one. You gonna clock me with a side-arm again, or are you moving on to words?" He doesn't know why she's been avoiding him--ok, maybe it was the aforementioned clocking. He knows why he's avoiding her, and he's not about to spill those beans.

They don't need blood shed on the Demetrius.

Not yet.

"Oh, frak you," she snarls, but her hands fist, fingers digging into his shirt. "Wasn't that long ago, that'd be us in there, Sammy."

"Kara..." And there's nothing he can say. He could turn and walk away. He should turn and walk away, but he can't. Because this is Kara, and she's his wife, even if she frankly scares the crap out of him.

"Shut up," she advises, shoving up on her toes and kissing him.

He's kissing her back, hands at her waist to help her balance before he can think about what a bad idea it is. She came back from the dead, and he's a Cylon, and--frak, she still feels the same. It's the heat getting to him, he decides hazily, pressing her up against the wall harder and feeling like he's falling into her. The heat and Kara, and he hasn't had sex since before he found out, and Tory wasn't ever Kara, and--Sam runs out of excuses.

He's kissing Kara because he wants to. He wants her, he always has. She's like a frakking magnet, or a star that keeps pulling him closer and closer until he burns up. "Shit," he whispers, pulling his mouth free of hers.

"Didn't think I was that bad," Kara mutters.

"It's not--" He breaks off because the door opens, and Sam turns his head at the movement and catches his breath. He'd never really considered Helo, given the man was married. But right at the moment, he's shirtless and barely-wearing his pants and Sharon is looking over his shoulder at Sam, a sleepy, sated look on her face.

The image goes straight to his cock and he drops his head to Kara's shoulder, trying to breathe. It's a little hard, because the air in this damned ship is so frakking hot, and with the door open, he knows exactly what they were doing in there. Sam feels like he might start hyperventilating, even as he reminds himself that he is not a gods-damned teenager, and he needs to get his frakking act together.

Kara snickers. "Problem, Sammy?" Her hand drops down, tugging at his belt, before she turns her head to stare at Sharon and Helo, "You two kids have fun in there?"

"Yup." Helo grins affably, and steps out, pulling Sharon after him. Sharon, who's staring at Sam (and Kara), like there's something off-kilter (of course there is, he's a Cylon). "It's free if you're interested."

Kara cracks a laugh, "Thanks, Helo, but--"

"Nah." Sam says, keeping Kara pinned against the wall, "We'd use it, but my wife just isn't all that interested in sex anymore."

This is such a blatant lie, even Sharon snickers at him.

"Scared I might be a Cylon, Sam?" Kara taunts, rocking her hips into his the way she knows will get him interested in naked activities.

"Nah," he tilts his head, "Just didn't think you'd be into it. What with you punching my lights out."

"Oh, I'm into it, Sam," she assures him. "Sharon, get your husband out of my way before I punch him, too."

Sharon laughs, but she doesn't sound amused.

Not that it matters, neither Sam nor Kara is paying her any more attention as Kara drags him into the closet.

Sam stares at the tiny room and wonders for an instant if Kara will be ok with this. It's like a cell, too small for very much movement, and he'll probably end up propping her against the wall, and--frak, that mental image is hot.

"Clothes, Sam."

This is something they're used to. Stripping before sex, because trying to undress each other takes too long, and Kara blames him whenever she can't find her bra. He's faster, but only just, and his hands aren't helping matters, because he's suddenly realized he can touch his wife, and she isn't going to walk out of the room before he can, and she isn't going to punch him, and--she feels the same, skin sliding against his as she kisses him.

He kisses back, wondering dazedly if he can eat her from the lips down, if he should care that he's not human--

Kara shoves at him, reminding him this is more than just mouths and tongues, lips and swapping spit.

"Wall?" Sam asks, already moving to hoist her up a little, getting her high enough that tipping her backwards, so her shoulders catch on the metal is easy. She's the right height, almost, and slippery with sweat already when she hooks her leg around his waist and arches, wriggling for leverage.

"Yes--bastard--frak--" between them, they get it right and he slides in deep on his first thrust.

Sam lets out a hard breath of his own and leans against her, his forehead on the wall as he tries to remember how this works.

Within five minutes of movement, the sweat is sliding down his back, and she's making soft little noises that shoot through him and remind him of slamming home goals that weren't possible on the pyramid court, and he realizes this is going to go too fast.

"Talk to me, Kara. Tell me--" he moans, mouth moving to that spot below her ear that makes her back arch that little bit more.

"What d'you wanna hear? Fantasies? Me and you and a picket fence and ten fat, happy babies?"

"No--" And even though she's saying it to hurt him, he can't help the smirk on his mouth, and his lips are still on her skin.

"Is that what you want, Sam? Or is it something else. Maybe a little kinkier. Helo, with his mouth between my legs, while you watch? Or Sharon?" She laughs, then moans when he changes the speed of his thrusts, "It's making you harder, Sam. Which is it? C'mon, you can tell me. Or do I just keep talking?"

Two could play at this game, Sam decides, forgetting he'd started her talking in the first place. He catches his breath enough to say, "Sharon. Sharon's between your legs, Kara." And then he stops, pressing deep into her and just holding her there while he continues, "You know why? 'Cause I'm on my knees, with my mouth around Helo's cock." She clenches around him, and it's enough to make him laugh right back at her.

He starts up again, before they both start sticking together too much, "That what you wanna do, Sam?"

"It turns you on," he replies, like it's the only answer she'll get.

Kara answer isn't verbal as she tightens around him, making him groan and almost lose it, right then.

They know each other too well. He thinks in snatches, as she giggles before the sound gets lost in movement as they strive for climax, hands and bodies, mouths and tongues and her fingers skating down his back while his clench convulsively at her hips, trying to hold her up. She's sweaty and sliding slowly down the wall.

She comes first, Sam has always prided himself on that, and now is no exception to his frakking rule. But he's right behind her, almost laughing as his legs give out and they both drop to the floor in a tangle.

"Idiot," she manages, shoving him a little until they're less wedged into the corner.

"Sorry," he mumbles. Moving a little more, he gets her into a more comfortable position. Leaning against the wall, he seriously considers passing out. He's been sleeping like shit for weeks now. And Kara's return hasn't really made it any better.

"Sure you are," she grumbles.

But she doesn't move to leave.


It's been twenty-four hours since she had sex with her husband. They haven't spoken since she peeled herself off of him and got dressed again, leaving him to was himself off all on his own. Kara's not sure if he's still holding a grudge for her hitting him, or if he just doesn't care (or maybe he thinks it's hot), but she's actually thinking he might not hate her anymore.

'Course, he'd been professing scary, undying love right before then, so maybe he's just still reeling from that.

And maybe he'll let her sex him up again, and soon. Because her skin is starting to itch again, and she remembers this from before. After Leoben, and before Lee, when she'd do anything to get the edge taken off. Usually, she'd done it with her fists, or with flying, but there was always Sam to call. She doesn't have a viper to fly anymore. Just her fingers. And Sam. Sam is better, of course.

Anything to take her mind off the way Sharon is still watching her like she's a ghost or a Cylon, or something Sharon doesn't want to fathom at all.

Finally, it's too much, and Kara walks out of the CIC (dinky though it is, they can't call it anything else), thinking maybe she needs a five-minute nap, or another frak. Sam's not the one who follows her, though.

"You really think you can find Earth?"

Kara glances at Sharon, and shrugs, stopping in the corridor and leaning up against the bulkhead. "I can. Like--" she pauses, wondering if she really wants to do this. But they used to be friends, they used to know they could count on each other, and she misses that just as much as she misses Sam's hands on her waist and his hair tickling her cheek when she wakes in the middle of the night from a dream she'd rather not remember. "There's, a feeling. It's just a feeling, like when you're pulling too many G's and your body's going one way and your brain another, and you know--"

Breaking off for a second gives her a chance to breathe, and she realizes that she's leaning up against their closet door. "You know," she repeats, shoving that thought away, "that at any second, it's all gonna catch up or you're gonna be a smear."

"Which means...what, that you're the smear, Starbuck?"

"No. I'm the body." Kara points to the direction that the pull is from, "And the brain--Earth--is pulling me towards it."

"Right." She still doesn't get it, and she doesn't really look like she wants to. Still, for just an instant, she looks like Sharon again, and not a Cylon, suspicious of anyone and everyone.

Kara shrugs, "It's the best I can come up with. Anyway. Yeah, I'm gonna find Earth. And so are you."

"I get a share in the Kara Thrace glory, huh?" Sharon asks, her tone sarcastic. Then she smirks, "We heard you last night, you know."

Kara shrugs. She used to frak her husband in a room full of horny pilots. Sharon and Helo hearing didn't bother her. Too much. "So?"

"Do you really want my head between your legs, Starbuck?"

Oh. Kara almost bites her lip, but remembers what a tell it is. In cards, she'd be fine. With sex? Not so much. And Sharon's watching her like she's just waiting for a tell, "Maybe."

Sharon steps closer, watching her curiously, "You came back from the dead, Kara. You sure you wanna lie?"

"You offering, Sharon?"

The Cylon moves faster than she expects, pushing her back against the wall, then laughing when Kara doesn't fight her. Sharon leans close, breath tickling the short hairs at the base of her neck, "Dunno, maybe I am." Sharon licks her skin, like she's trying to taste something she forgot.

"Gods," Kara says, forgetting a lot of things as she turns her head and tangles her fingers in Sharon's hair.

Kissing Sharon is familiar, and yet it's not. She remembers drunken fraks, back before the Chief (before she was a Cylon and the worlds ended and Helo was a complication neither of them mentioned, even then) caught her heart and stole her away from casual sex. This isn't Boomer. This is Athena, and she's older and more experienced (and maybe she doesn't remember how Kara likes it), her hands gentle on Kara's cheeks.

"All this heat," Sharon whispers, pulling her mouth away from Kara's, licking and kissing down her neck, "All this heat and closeness, and near-naked skin."

"Shit, baby--" Kara drags at Sharon's tanks, trying to take control. "You're not naked enough."

A laugh escapes Sharon, and she kisses Kara again, letting her slowly maneuver them around so Sharon's pressed up against the wall and Kara's stretched against her, fingers slowly sliding under her tanks.

Which is the perfect time for Helo to come down the corridor, looking for his wife, or the head, or maybe nothing at all. "What the--" he sounds shocked and yet a little odd. When neither stops to look at him, he moves closer, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Sharon's shoulder. "Sharon? Starbuck?"

Kara slowly pulls her mouth from Sharon's making sure the sound and feel of her tongue sliding free of Sharon's lips is palpable, "Somethin' you want, Helo?"

There's a glazed look in his eyes, like he wasn't expecting this. Kara thinks she wasn't expecting it, either, but she's aching for hands on her skin and a body under hers, and Sharon came down the hall, not Sam. So maybe this will work.

She also has a sneaking suspicion that Sam would have that same glazed look in his eyes.

"I--" he clears his throat, and turns his head, "Anders. C'mere."

The words barely reach the end of the passage, but Sam hears them anyway, and his head pops around the corner, eyes bored, skin slick with the perpetual sweat this frakking ship causes, "What?"

"You don't wanna miss this," Helo assures him. Then he tilts his head, like Sharon and Kara are a zoological exhibit, and he's waiting for the tigers to try to climb the bars and eat him alive. "Do that again?"

"D'no. Do we perform on command, Sharon?" murmurs Kara, leaning in against her. She can tell Sharon isn't exactly unhappy with Kara's body pressed up against her. Her hips are slowly rocking, and there's muscles in her belly that are clenching, like she's fighting not to shift and press closer.

Sharon tips her head, and gives her husband a questioning look, like she wants to make certain this is ok before she continues. When he doesn't object, she chuckles and drops her mouth to Kara's again.

This kiss is definitely for show, all tongue and parted lips, little sighs and Sharon's hands cupping Kara's cheeks to hold her still.

Both men make noises that could be considered strangled, and Kara laughs, pulling her mouth from Sharon's.

"Did you like that, boys?" She looks at Sam, reflecting the same question Sharon did, for entirely different reasons.

He smirks and taps Helo on the shoulder. "Gotta a minute?"

"Sam, did you just see that?"

"I did." When Helo turns to look at him, Sam leans in and brushes his mouth against Helo's.

The movement causes Helo to jerk back, hitting the wall and looking surprised. Then he glances at Sharon and a slight smirk tugs at his mouth before he reaches for Sam.

Sam kissing Helo is not a show, and Kara feels the sight all the way down between her legs like an electric shock. "Gods," she whispers, pressing up against Sharon.

It's Sharon who's practical. Someone has to be, after all. "We need to get out of the corridor before someone wanders along and sees us."

"What, no free show?" Sam murmurs, reaching out to hook his fingers in Kara's beltloop and tugging a little.

Kara begins giggling, because she can't help it. She just can't. "What?" She looks between them all, "Are we just going to go have sex? Because Sharon likes kissing girls and that turns Helo on? And Sammy--"

"Maybe we should."

That it's Helo making this suggestion just shuts Kara up. For a moment. Helo, the guy who isn't the brightest tool in the shed, but he's the one who thinks things through and generally doesn't just go with the moment, is suggesting sex. With all of them participating. Kara stares at him, then looks at Sharon, "Your husband is insane."

"Aren't we all?" Sharon asks, her hand sliding up under Kara's tanks. "Because if you're not, Kara, you can always go." Her hand stops just under Kara's breast, an inch higher and she'd be cupping it, her thumb able to flick up against the nipple.

Kara wants her to do that, and can't quite stop herself from pressing into Sharon's hand. "I always said I was nuts. What about you, Sam?"

A laugh comes from Sharon and her thumb brushes up against Kara's nipple. "I'm glad you didn't bother with a bra today, Starbuck." She leans close and whispers, "I wanna find out how hot you get while Sam's got his mouth around Helo's cock."

The mental image is as hot now as it was the night before, and Kara lets out a little moan.

"I wanna hear you come, baby," Sam murmurs, tugging at her pants again.

"We need a room," Helo says, pushing at them all. He gets them moving, Kara and Sharon not really letting each other go, and Sam following with an odd expression in his eyes.

The heat of the ship gets worse the closer they get to the engines, but the smell gets better, and there isn't anyone in the rooms leading off the engineering section. They search for only long enough to find a room that isn't too tiny, and then Kara's pressing Sharon against a wall again.

Kara thinks she might combust when she pulls her mouth from Sharon's neck and glances sideways. Sam's on his knees, his hands tugging Helo's pants down, his voice low and soft, talking a mile a minute in a cadence she recognizes. Hearing Sam talk dirty to her is always a turn-on. Hearing him talk dirty to Helo, is even hotter. Sharon chuckles a little, turning Kara in her arms and tugging her tanks off over her head, so her breasts are bare for Helo's eyes.

Nails drag up over her breasts, then circle her nipples while she watches Sam take Helo into his mouth, sucking hard and then soft, moving his head like he's done this before. "Gods," she chokes out, almost incoherent already. She gets her pants undone and slides her hand between her legs to ease the ache.

"Need something, Starbuck?" Sharon whispers, one hand dragging down Kara's belly, nails digging in before her fingers join Kara's, pressing in against the wetness.

Kara's a little shocked at how close she already is--maybe it's the heat, and maybe it's the visual. And maybe it's just something freaky about Cylons that make her want to be frakked until she's coming so hard she can't stand.

'Course, her husband can get the same reaction from her, and he's not a Cylon.

Sharon's mouth drops to her neck, nipping and licking as she mutters softly, not quite talking dirty, but not quite talking cleanly, either.

His hands on Sam's head, Helo leans back, eyes half-lidded as he watches them, his eyes on Sharon's fingers inside Kara's panties.

It's surreal.

It's frakked-up.

And it's hot.

Kara climaxes before Helo, her breath harsh and full of suppressed words (names, maybe). She sags back against Sharon, who strokes her, triggering aftershocks and making Kara grab for her hand. "Too much," she gasps.

"All right." Sharon kisses her shoulder, then makes sure Kara's not going to fall over before she moves, kneeling to pull Kara's pants and underwear down the rest of the way. They get her boots off, too, and Sharon licks the back of Kara's knee, nuzzling the spot when Kara jumps.

"Everyone but me's still all dressed," Kara notes, palm flat on the wall as she tries to stay on her feet.

Sharon laughs behind her, then shifts, and Kara wants to turn because she can hear the sliding of fabric against skin. But turning might be too much and if she goes down to her knees, she wants someone else there, first. "This enough for you, Starbuck?" Sharon's shirts land on top of her head, covering her view of Sam and Helo.

Which is a shame, since Helo takes that moment to lose it, cursing Sam's mouth in a voice that tugs at Kara's stomach.

"Brat," Kara whispers, pulling the fabric off her head and dropping it. She turns and reaches out to trace a finger over Sharon's collarbones, digging her nail in as she moves closer and lets her hand move down the other woman's chest.

Sharon laughs and goes to work undoing her pants.

"Godsdamn." Sam mutters from behind them.

Kara glances over her shoulder to find him crawling towards them on his hands and knees, like standing up to join them would be too much effort. Helo's still leaning against the wall, eyes dark as he watches them. "Wanna play, Sam?"

His hand grabs her ankle and tugs. "C'mere, baby."

It's got to be the heat making them act this way, Kara decides as she lets Sam pull her down, turning so she's straddling him. Kissing him is like an electric shock, or maybe that's just his hands sliding all over her skin or the fabric of his shirts against her breasts.

"Do you mind, Starbuck?" Sharon asks, breath tickling the back of Kara's neck when she joins them.

Kara moves forward at Sharon's urging and glances back to watch Sharon unbuckle Sam's pants, dragging them and his underwear down. He's already hard, and Sharon takes a moment to stroke a finger against his cock before looking up at Kara, a question in her eyes.

"Do it," Kara hisses, a little surprised at her own willingness to share Sam--but then, he's already had Helo.

Sam groans when Sharon takes him in hand and moves up, wriggling a little before sliding down onto him. Her eyes close and Kara leans over to kiss her, the position awkward.

The heat is getting worse, pounding into her skin and stripping her of moisture as she sweats. Kara tries to ignore it, pulling her mouth from Sharon's and licking at her neck, tasting sweat and skin.

"C'mere--" Sam's hand closes on Kara's wrist and he tugs, pulling her off-balance so she falls forward, leaving Sharon to ride him on her own, her head tipped back and her hands on her hips like a dancer that's searching for balance.

Kara falls into Sam, letting him move her until her breasts are within reach of his mouth. She knows what he can do with his lips and tongue, and her breath is catching before he even touches her.

This is weird and stupid and ridiculous, and hot--she can't forget the latter, because Sharon's behind her, making soft little noises that Kara wonders if Helo ever hears. The sound and Sam's mouth are shooting right to her groin and when Sam's hand cups her, she moans, breathless. And Sam laughs, his voice stuttering with whatever Sharon's hips and body are doing to him, but he laughs, like he knows how frakking easy Kara is.

And she would shove him if she could, but what he's doing feels too good.

Sharon drops forward, her tongue licking at a strip of skin on Kara's back before she stops, her breath catching.

"Need some help, Sharon?" Kara asks, pulling away from Sam. She moans a protest that his mouth isn't on her breasts, but doesn't stop. Of course, turning around so she can touch and taste Sharon isn't as easy as the thought it would be, and Kara gets her leg tangled with Sam's arm and ends up draped on his chest and the floor, laughing.

"Tryin' to kill me, baby?" Sam asks, hands trying to help her and not exactly doing much that's helpful.

Kara drags herself completely off of him and swears. "Shit. This floor is freezing, why didn't we get a blanket?"

"D'no. It feels good," Sam replies, head turned to watch her and not Sharon.

Sharon the Cylon, Sharon the traitor, Sharon the person who's done more for the fleet than Kara will ever give her credit for. Kara shivers, staring up at Sharon, who's watching her own husband. Helo's making his slow way towards them, his gaze more than interested as it flicks between Sharon, Sam and Kara. Like he can't quite decide who to touch first.

"Cold floor feels good," Helo agrees, leaning down to kiss Sam before he turns to Sharon. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," she says, breathless and needy, like Sam's good, but he's not enough to get her off on his own. "Love you."

The last two words are said so softly, they aren't meant for other ears, but Kara hears them anyway and feels a stab of envy. She and Sam don't--

His fingers catch hers.

Helo kisses Sharon's hip before he works his mouth up her body to her lips.

Kara thinks about how that feels--of course, Helo was never that gentle with her, and it was never about anything but sex between them. She supposes, in a way, this makes her and Sam equal. Now they've both had the Agathons.

The thought makes her snicker, and she moves, pulling herself onto her side and snuggling up against Sam. "Kinda hot, honey." She whispers, laughter still in her voice.

Sam's still holding her hand and he tugs their joined fingers to his mouth and licks them both. "Thanks, baby."

Laughing, Kara leans over and kisses him. She can tell by the strain in his muscles that he's close. She wonders if she should feel jealous that Sharon's going to take her husband over the edge. He's taking her, too, though, and Kara doesn't break the kiss as she hears Sharon cry out, her voice muffled by Helo's mouth.

Sam shudders, pushing his fingers through Kara's hair and holding her mouth against his while he climaxes.

He'd always liked her hair slightly longer. There was more to play with, and Kara had to admit Sam's fingers in her hair were always like an extra little bonus when they were having sex. Not that she'd tell him the real reason she kept letting her hair grow.

"Man." Helo sounds like he's run a marathon.

Sharon giggles, flopping forward and sprawling on Kara and Sam. "Hey, you two. Enjoy the show?"

"Oh, yeah." Kara gropes her, then smirks. "You look like there's a stick up your ass, Helo."

He snorts, "You and your smart mouth, Starbuck." Moving, he joins the pile, not seeming to care that they're all probably crushing Sam now.

Sam doesn't seem to mind, though. He turns to look at Kara, "I ever mention you're hot?"


"'Cause you are."


"Really hot."

Kara rolls her eyes and gets enough wriggle room to kiss his mouth again. "Yeah, I know, Sam."

"Good." His fingers slide through her hair, "Wouldn't want you to feel like I didn't appreciate you."

Sharon snickers, then pats Kara's shoulder, "He's being mushy, Starbuck. You might have to hit him."

"Nah." Kara brushes her lips against Sam's chin, then pulls back to just look at him. "I kinda like him when he's mushy."

"I'll have to remember that," he whispers.

"You do that."

Stuck in the middle of a pile of heat, sweat and skin, Kara thinks about Earth. She can almost taste the grass at the back of her throat, and feel the edges of the stalks brushing against her skin. The heat of summer pounding on them, and the clouds lowering, full of rain.

It's her destiny. She's stopped fighting that, accepting herself for who and what she is. But maybe she doesn't have to be alone. Maybe this frakked-up destiny is theirs, too.