Title: Identity Out of Pain
Warnings: Drug use
Setting: New Caprica
Prompt: By the lovely newnumbertwo: ‘Chamalla Withdrawal’
/1 Like any of the ficlets I write, I MAY come back to this. (Damn my attention span.)
/2 Part of this written originally forlaura_lee_bsg and then expanded to be part of the bsg_epics pentathlon for author’s choice.
Laura sinks down into the bath; candles lit on the counters by her side as the water slips over the side of the tub and then spills languidly onto the floor. This is a moment of peace, and the first she's had in many, many days. New Caprica has been harder than she thought, and the last month more so than she could ever have anticipated. She leans over and collects her draw from the cabinet. The light glints of the smooth drop-curve of breast, before she settles back and takes a drag. The reefer is thick and potent, and the drug eases into her lungs and threads along her nerves, then deeper into her mind quickly. Laura lifts her hand, veiling her eyes, exhales—smoke through the water—to see his shadow appear.
"Hello, Lee," she whispers, her greeting throaty and low.
He smiles, all boyish charm and endearment. She gestures him closer with her hand and he comes. His fingers entwine with hers. He's so, so beautiful. She takes another drag as his thumb runs over her knuckles, his skin tingling hot like the water enveloping her body. Like flames...
"Join me," she invites, and he nods, then strips slowly. He's dressed in his suit: the nice one, scavenged like her formal clothes had been from the dead. His tie comes off first, him loosening the side of it as if a noose, then his shirt, button by button, to his trousers; fly, then sliding them down slowly with his shorts. Beneath, he's naked. He's also trying to be comfortable with this; Laura can feel it as she stares at his stomach and groin. She glides a hand down his firm muscles, over the expanse of hair, then grazing his penis. She smiles. He chuckles silently.
She meets his grin, dips down, and soaks her hair. The red turns black in the whispering dark, and her eyes lock with his as she thinks many things: like that the room's coloured like a sunset; his eyes are like islands in the sea. That it's all more beautiful than reality should be… Than it is - a dank tent in the mud on a cold rock in the destituteness of space. It's not a place of hope, but survival. If it ever was one of hope, it peaked with the drink and weed on the grounding day when Baltar slammed a shovel in the ground and when she got tight and watched the stars move. She takes another drag now, deep and hard. Lee smiles and presses into her hand. He feels stiff already. He wants her and he wants her to use him. She tugs on his length. He flushes and inclines his head, shifting his hips playfully, then lifts a leg over the bath, and steps in - only pausing before his balls hit the water with a twinkling smile of hesitant expectancy. He’s so perfect, it makes her laugh. His gaucheness. His eager wait upon her every nod of approval. It makes her feel in control. It makes her feel sad for him. It makes her want him.
She takes another drag, pushing back the morning when he’ll be gone and she’ll be alone with nothing but the insects crawling under her skin.