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Water And Whiskey

By Nellie Wellie

Story Title: Water and Whisky
Author's Name: Nellie_wellie
Word Count: 2,219
Series: 3, between ‘unfinished business' and ‘the eye of Jupiter'.
Rating: M+
Category: Relationships
Pairing or Focus: Lee/Kara, Kara/Anders, Lee/Dee, Kara/Leobon
Warnings: sex, angst
Summary: One is whisky, the other water, both necessary for her.
Spoilers/Disclaimers: so very many spoilers. Don't read if you don't want to know.

Kara had gone, the dynamic whirlwind that she was; leaning into his embrace one moment then opening her eyes to the room, empty except for Dee . Breaking away and rushing unsteadily from the room as he swayed in confusion. He stood there as Dee left, after a minutes accusatory resigned stare. Then he was in the ring on his own.

Now after an unclear amount of time the adrenaline and effects from the fight are clearing in his head. The mouth guard has been dropped and his mouth swilled, leaving bloodied spit next to him. The blood on his face has dried and he feels a lip and an eye swelling. It will hurt tomorrow. And yet he is lighter; some pent up anger and frustration exorcised. And the ambiguous whisper echoes in his head;

“I missed you too”

What it means he is unsure. It's another demonstration (as I he needs it) of how Kara can flip his emotions; from so much anger and hurt, to naïve childish hope and expectation. Maybe she does care for him. Maybe she wasn't just drunk that night. Maybe it had meant something to her. Maybe she knew Anders was wrong for her. The treacherous hope wipes all concern in his mind for consequences, for the pain to be caused by such hopes. He forgets the last year, the marriage vows that tie them apart. His heart feels again the hope and excitement that had warmed the building site. Yet reality twists inside him making the pleasure painful. Such sensations do not interact well with his battered and queasy body. He finds himself retching. He hopes someone is going to come and stroke his head and offer him water. As usual no-one turns up at this opportune moment. Instead he leans back against the pillar, breathing deeply and swilling out his mouth.

That's when he goes in search of Kara. Not Dee as he should be doing, traitor that he is. He tells himself he doesn't know what to expect, to anticipate, to hope for. He is as usual lying to himself; he hopes for her to throw herself at him (gently), he anticipates her being uncertain, as usual, he expects her to have already switched her feelings about him; to not want him near her again.

He is searching the corridors for some time before he comes across her. Many people pass him in that time, not meeting his eyes or suggesting he visit the infirmary to be checked out and have the blood cleaned off. The subtext is clear; he is dishonouring Dee publicly, and everyone knows it. His nerve is beginning to waiver when he hears Kara in a storage room on a back corridor. He is alerted by retching sounds. This is his opportune moment. He steps behind her and strokes her back, offers her the last of his water he has been carrying. She takes the proffered bottle without looking at him, noisily swilling her mouth and spitting. When she leans back hari falling away behind her, her eyes are closed and her blood still on her face. She has defiantly looked better, although he has always found beauty in her ability to match him at everything. She is pale with a nasty cut on her nose and a swollen lip too. She is shaking slightly too, he thinks, but he cant be sure.

Her heart makes a twisted leap insider her when she feels the hand on her back and sees the proffered water bottle. She can't be sure its lee, but she treacherously hopes, without daring to look. When the copper taste is rinsed from her mouth and she leans back against the cool steadying boxes she keeps her eyes closed, not wanting to know until she has to. So she's surprised when she feels the cloth on her face, gently wiping at the dried blood, another hand steadying against her shoulder. Her eyes snap open and she is staring at Lee, a foot away from her face. He is looking battered; the blood dried on his face, lip swollen. She's surprised; she figured Dee would have cleaned him up. She tries to make a remark, to distance herself from him, but her lips and throat are dry and instead an embarrassing strangled crackle emerges. So much adrenaline and anger has run through her tonight she is exhausted, so she sits for long tension filled minutes while he cleans her face. Finally he sits back against the next boxs. The weak part of her heart wants to reach for the cloth and clean his face, the knot in her chest stops her. He looks down, breaks the silence;

“I did miss you, do miss you, Kara. I'm sorry for whatever I said or did to you. I never imagined it would end up like this.”

This angers her, like so much does; “What did you expect? After all I am the frak up. Did you really think you could pull me up instead of me pulling you down?”

Her harsh tone affects him and still without looking at her he flinches. She glares at him for good measure.

“I figured it would work out one day, when we stopped dancing around, hiding behind others, using them to taunt each other. That is of course until you went and got married”

His eyes look up to meet hers. She is speechless. Her mind warring between defensive anger and the outpouring of feeling her traitorous stomach asks for, the result is saying nothing.

He can see the conflict in her eyes; that conflict that has always defined Kara and her yo-yoing actions. For once she has no response. The anger builds inside him again at her silence.

“Well” he spits” are you going to explain yourself? Your sudden and unexpected marriage to Anders? After you had been with ME? Given yourself to ME? Promised yourself to ME?” His anger appears to galvanise her, solve the conflict. She shoves his chest then leans in close; classic Kara, invading his space, pushing him to see how far he will go.

“You, you, you” she mocks ”it just all about you isn't it? Its always my fault, I'm always the one who fraks up. Never consider how drunk I was. Never consider how I was showing you somewhere I was making plans. Once you had me, it was black and white; love or not. Simple, finished sorted.”

Her eyes glare at him, her hands gesturing and she is up close and personal in his space. Before he knows it entirely himself he is kissing her. Hard. Then pulling away as she does, both sitting back on their heels, space once more between them as they feel the pain of bruised lips and jaws.

In the brief interlude nausea washes over her. As always, she feels Leobon's lips against her; claiming her, breaking her, victorious. So she takes the lead, leaning back to kiss lee again (with less pressure). If she is in charge then it is ok, she is not giving in. She can let herself feel some pleasure.

She remembers his kisses, strong and firm. She drinks it in, like a wanderer from the desert. He is water to her, necessary, that is why she is always drawn back. He washes against the memory of Leobon, clensing her for these moments. And yet at the back of her mind she remembers she was with Anders only hours before. And that had been good too, at the time, she had lost herself. Until after, when the guilt settled across her and she remembered with more guilt that she did not deserve this, him. If lee was water, Anders was whisky. Burning pleasure and pain, playing off her crazy side, the risks she lived for. Water and whisky, both necessary for her.

She is kissing him passionately. He runs a hand down her back the other in her hair, around her neck. She pauses to whisper into his ear;

“it doesn't matter, none of it matters”

His hand slips under her tops, feeling her warm smooth soft skin. He bunches the tops up reaching her bra, his hand brushing across it, but it is standard issue; impenetrable. He breaks the kiss to pull her tops over her head. While he fumbles with her bra she returns the favour. Then she leans forward kissing his neck, down his chest as far as comfortable, avoiding the bruises already appearing. His head leans back automatically to give her access. His hands search for her breasts and he feels the little shudder go through her and her lips pause on his skin as he brushes her nipples. He repeats and she reaches back up, searching for his mouth. She shifts forward brushing against his errection through his trousers and he thrusts upwards automatically with his groan muffled against her lips. Her hands ghost across his stomach and wrestle with his belt. For a moment he is too concerned with keeping her glorious weight pushing against him then assisting her. But soon this is not enough; he needs to have her naked. Feel her against him. She moves back pulling at his trousers and pants as he fumbles with hers. They pull away long enough to kick off boots and push their clothing away. And she is naked in her glorious length and curves. Pale in the dim light. He pulls her towards him again and they kiss hungrily. She reaches to stroke his errection, causing him to moan her name into her mouth. He is so ready. He reaches down between them, finding her warm and ready. This time there is no time to play around, neither are willing to wait.

He pulls her against him and she is above him, both breathing heavily, kissing long. She is hot against him, damp with sweat, the cold boxes at his back. He reaches between them, lining himself up and she sinks. They kiss as they join and he fells her little gasp in his mouth, gratifyingly. Then she is moving, exquisite small gentle movements that leave him breathless (but careful not to cause either of them much pain). She is as he remembers (but defiantly less drunk, more in control). Sensual and smooth, comfortable in her physicality in way Dee could never quite manage. Not that Dee wasn't that good, she just never tipped her hips slightly on every stoke like Kara is doing. Building glorious unthinking pressure. Suddenly Kara stops. He opens his eyes to see hers closed. He leans forwards kisses her and a few seconds later she begins to move again. He runs his hands gently over her back, gasping her name slightly as the glorious pressure builds.

She is busy kissing him when she sinks down and feels the exquisite stretch as they join. He fills her perfectly and she moves gently, cautiously. He is shorter but wider than Anders, moving with her more, letting her take the lead. There is no desperate sexual heat.

The thought is a betrayal, a comparison she has very deliberately not made for a year or more. As she pushes it away another unbidden replaces it. Leoben on top of her, as she imagines him in her fevrrish nightmares. Slimey, cruel, deceptive, controlling, smiling. A wave of revulsion passes through her. She stops moving, tensing. Then she is kissed. Opens her eyes. Realises this is Lee. She pushes down the revulsion. Hides the thought. Focuses on the kiss. Starts moving again, pleasure and pressure building once more. But also pain from her aching bruised body. An erotic mix of pleasure and pain. Lee is gasping her name and is breathing hard, erratic. He starts kissing her hard hands clutching at her back. The pressure is glorious, glorious and he is, kissing, gasping her name, she replies in kind. Then he goes ridged, his gasps changing rhythm, one hand in her hair, one on her hips pushing her against him. She moves against him, but no release comes as he relaxes and she collapses against him, exhausted, sweat soaked, the pleasure ebbing away, nearly satisfied.

Clearly she didn't deserve to orgasm. The pleasure was enough and tinged with enough pain. It is what she deserves. She rolls off him realising he must ache as much as her. He rolls to join her on the floor, holding her. She realises the cold hard floor will be no permanent resting place for them. But she is too beautifully exhausted to move right then. Neither of them speaks as they catch their breath. She knows at the back of her mind this will hurt Dee and Anders and this is her penance, while having Lee, she looses Anders. Water and whisky; both needed.

She knocks back the shot, slamming it down on the bar and grimacing from the burn. Before she opens her eyes an arm around her waist pulls her in and she kisses Anders, hard. Opening her eyes she can still see, across the bar, Lee and Dee. Their tender reunion contrasts with her and Anders who are giggling as they knock back the shots. Once again she has chosen, whisky or water. She has her fun, but she is parched again.