Fic: Private Consultations, Lee, R, no warnings

[lanalucy]

Lee was wound tight and needed to relax.  What better way to get there than with his go-to fantasy of Kara?  For most guys, that would be her, naked in the shower.  She did have this perfect tilt of breasts when she had her arms raised, slicking back her hair, but no.  His favorite, the one that always worked, was Kara, shorts and tanks, dripping sweat, probably from a really intense Pyramid game, coming at him with laughter shining in her eyes, pushing him down and...for some reason, Kara wasn’t looking at him.  And she wasn’t in her shorts and tanks anymore.  She was wearing that heart-attack-inducing blue dress from Colonial Day, with her back to him, and she was running her hand up the stockinged leg of someone, well, someone obviously female, someone whose leg was arching behind Kara to pull her in tighter, and no.  This was his fantasy, godsdamnit, and maybe he couldn’t get her to do a damn thing in reality, but in his mind, she needed to do what he told her, and she definitely needed to be looking at him, not some random woman.  But the Kara in his head, like the real one, was -not- cooperating.  She insisted on morphing into that dress-wearing Kara, running her hands up those legs, and wow, was that a garter belt?  Damn.  Whose legs were those, anyhow?  As the legs pulled Kara in and she bent forward (and OK, Kara’s ass in that dress -did- kinda make him want to push the dress up, bend her over the table and frak the hell out of her), he caught a glimpse of red hair over her shoulder.  She bent further, trailing her hands higher, above the stockings.  One went higher, pulling the redhead in for a kiss, and the other, well, the other hand was doing something Lee couldn’t see, because Kara was in the way, but the redhead was whimpering against Kara’s mouth, and that was kinda working for him.  The arms came around Kara’s neck, holding on tighter, and she opened her eyes and looked at him.  Fantasy Kara was finger-frakking President Roslin and what the hell was wrong with him?  She kept looking at him until she closed her eyes in downright ecstasy as Kara’s fingers brought her over the edge and she came, crying out Kara’s name.  At the same time, he came harder than he had in months, and he didn’t even remember putting his hands down his shorts.

How in the name of all the Lords of Kobol was he supposed to ever look at Laura Roslin again without imagining her all splayed out, spasming under Kara’s very capable hands?  For that matter, how was he ever supposed to look at Kara again without seeing it?

Written for bsg_kink's Friday Night Fun post.