Another Night Of Scandal And Porn In The Pilots' Lounge
by Jennifer-Oksana

"Ladies, gentlemen, and furry little Viper pilots," Kara announced, strutting into the off-duty lounge one enchanted evening. "Are we going to play some frakking poker tonight or are we sitting here jerking our collective dicks?"

Two of the pilots gestured toward the curtained-off part of room, and Kara rolled her eyes. It was good to have Helo back on Galactica, but he always wasted time with the whole pilot porno hour. Of course, it had led to the absolutely fantastic night where the entire Viper corps of Galactica went to bed well-frakked, but those were in more innocent days, when Starbuck had time for sex and poker.

"Helo is offering two cigars to the pilot who shares the best sex fantasy," said Racetrack. Starbuck snorted. "Also, we're drinking booze like it was water, and Apollo is ready to do his turn before the panel of semi-anonymous judges. So shut the hell up and sit down or he'll punk out again."

Starbuck snorted. "Oh, frak me," she said, dropping her voice an octave. "Apollo is going to play Helo's Midnight Confessions? No way. Lee's a prude."

"Oh, see, we knew that. So we might have plied the CAG with the good ambrosia," Racetrack said with an evil little shrug. "Come on, it can only be good for your ego, right? And Helo already did his usual, so unless you want Gaeta and the CIC to win for his true confession..."

"Frakking Helo. Him walking in on Sharon and the Chief and getting to play?" Starbuck said, lighting up a cigar and stealing someone's whiskey neat. Racetrack nodded. "Every damn time."

"Hey, he uses the word rimjob," Racetrack said. "It sounds for real, especially when he's got a lolly for effect."

"Yeah yeah yeah," Starbuck muttered as the obscured shadows behind the sheet started moving.

"All right, sir," Helo said. "I believe you are up for the competition, Mr. C-A-G. First time confession?"

"Yeah," Lee said, snorting. "So what are the rules? How do I win those cigars off you again, Helo? Suck up the best?"

"You convince me and your anonymous audience out there that your frakked-up libido does better than mine or Gaeta's. Of course, that does mean you will have to talk about sex, so if you want to back up so as not to have to perform the forfeit like our nugget friends here, I'll understand," Helo said, and Kara could hear the smirk.

As she was sharing that smirk, it wasn't hard to imagine. Apollo was not going to go through with this, no matter how drunk he was, because then people would know about his dirty mind and that was so not Lee.

"I'm assuming it doesn't have to be real," Lee said dryly.

"Whatever you want," Helo said. "I seem to remember a time Starbuck won for the best spanking fantasy ever and I don't think she was even in it."

"Oh, that's a sucker way out," Lee said, snorting loudly. Starbuck rolled her eyes. "So give me another shot of ambrosia and let's get this going, Helo."

"No problem, Apollo," Helo replied.

"Forfeit?" Kara mouthed at Kat and Hot Dog. Kat pointed at her trousers.

"Hot Dog's wearing my choneys for a week," she stage-whispered. "And I'm not allowed to wear any."

"Hey, hey, out there," Helo said, his hand waving at them from behind the sheet. "No talking from the peanut-gallery, we got a fresh face on the panel, and he's here to frakking play."

Starbuck leaned back and rolled her eyes. This was going to be a trip; Lee would rather cut off his own left hand than spill sex details, and she knew it. Helo must have been promising better than cigars to Lee -- or someone was promising Apollo quite the reward for the sex chatter.

"So no names," Lee said. "I don't share names. Everything else is fair game."

Right. Starbuck shared a glance with Racetrack and the nuggets and waited for what was clearly going to be a fake story from Apollo that was so so not going anywhere.

And if she happened to be wrong? She was definitely sticking around for the gory details.


Lee is still not entirely sure why he's sharing. No, he knows why. Because everyone is giving him crap for being too much of a priss to play along. Also, because for frak's sake, Gaeta being less uptight than him on anything? Kind of a goad.

Of course, if anyone blabs, he is dead. And his father will be the one who kills him. But Apollo takes a deep breath, stares Helo down, and starts spilling his guts, because he's playing to win.

Also, because he's quite drunk and the idea of Helo or Gaeta winning for their fake-as-frak stories kind of irritates Lee. There is something to be said for realistic porn, if one is going to be so tacky as they are and share fantasies.

So, anyway, there's a woman waiting for him after he blows up the Cylon base on the asteroid. After all the other parties, after being a hero to the whole frakking fleet, Lee goes over to her ship to talk to her about what went down, the way he has sometimes.

(He ignores the snort. Frak Helo; like he ever even told Boomer about the threesome fantasy, cuz she'd have his nuts.)

And she's waiting for him. She's waiting for him alone, and that's never happened before, because this redhead is the kind of women other people follow around. Lee's kind of surprised, but not really, when she shakes her head at him.

"That was the most foolhardy," she begins breathlessly, and then she just grabs him and kisses him. Hard.

"It's my duty," he says when she lets him up for air. "I was just doing my job."

"I know. And I enjoy rewarding accomplishment, Captain," she says.

(Every last pilot on duty is staring at Lee like he's grown a new head. Helo has forgotten to act like a jaded, lollipop-sucking sex god, probably because he's told the threesome story so many times that not even Tyrol is offended by it anymore. Meanwhile, Lee is telling a thinly veiled story about how he may have frakked the President of the Twelve Colonies. A realistic thinly veiled story. He's going to win this thing on shock value alone -- and get away with it because no one can believe Lee is actually saying this.)

This woman, the one who was waiting for him, she's the kind no one expects to be anything but proper and polite, and that's kind of why Lee's already turned on by her, because when she kisses him, she pulls his head against hers ferociously. She expects him to kiss her back, and Lee can't help it. He's always found her sort of attractive, and she's getting hotter every minute.

("Frak me," one of the girls outside the curtain says. "Do you think..."

"SHHH!" eight other people snap.)

"Never knew you rewarded like this, sir," Lee tells her, sliding a hand over her back.

"I didn't expect you to, well," and she's kissing him again, her mouth fastening to his throat. She's got very clever hands, and one of them is pulling him close up against her while the other is on the back of his neck.

Lee wants her bad. Very, very bad.

(Someone is choking on that. "He is talking about...well, you know?" "Shut up." "If it happened, this is kind of wrong." "SHUT UP!")

"Well, what?" Lee asks. His dick's gone rigid and his mystery woman has her leg twined around his. "Do my duty?"

The lady in question gives him the look, the Captain-Apollo-please-let's-not-play-dumb look that would wreck Helo if he were on the receiving end of things.

"I never thought I would be so frakking terrified and angry at the thought of you leading the charge," she said, and he whimpers at how hot it is when she curses. "That was an insane plan, and I didn't know about the details, and I just. Gods."

"Danger is part of the job."

"Extraordinary heroism inspires extraordinary response," she says in a low voice. "Or have I crossed one too many lines, admitting just how much your heroic act left me breathless?"

"It's a surprise," Lee says. "A good surprise."

She chuckles, and then pushes him, hard, until Lee finds himself bumping his head against a secluding cargo container just before his redhead pulls his mouth to hers again as she shoves up hard against his cock.

("Damn, sir!" Gaeta mutters. Everyone is shifting slightly, because Lee's good at this. He's just sharing, none of Helo's sneer, none of Gaeta's fumbling, none of the girls' habits of faking embarrassment or contempt. Also, Lee's thought this one out enough that it's not really that embarrassing.

"And this is why he's the teacher's pet," someone else says in a muffled voice. "Ow! Just saying.")

"I'd bore you with the lengthy discussion of how women my age have needs and how strange and awkward things are, but," and Lee's voice cracks slightly, "If you are naive enough to think the libido dies young, then I'd rather not know."

(Lee's thought about it, how they'd deal with the age difference, how he thinks she's attractive but that's not standing in the way with how he respects her, and Lee is pretty sure that she'd put her hand on his face, give him one of those smiles and say, "Let's pretend we had the conversation and decided that we were willing to accept the risk."

She's like that -- weird little sense of humor about things she can't change. Lee likes it. Makes her more approachable somehow.)

"All right," he says, undoing the buttons on her blouse. "You're the boss."

"Do you mean that?" she asks, eyes sparkling as she pins him to the container with a hand and smiles wickedly.

Lee didn't think he could get any more turned on, but she's asking him if he wants her to...boss him around, and gods, frak, he does, he wants her to tell him just how she wants him, wants to listen to her tell him he's doing it right, that he's hers, all hers and she's going to make him feel good...

Really, it's about realizing that he wants to her to be on top. However Lee can have her on top.

("And then what?" Helo asks. "And then you walk in and offer to join us," Lee says, irritated. "Nobody interrupted Gaeta when he was describing what exactly Dr. Baltar was doing to his dick, did they? Shut up and let me finish.")

"I'm at your command," Lee says, kissing his way down her neck and then letting his hands fall to his side.

"I'm profoundly skeptical about that," she says huskily, wrapping her arms around herself and taking a step back to look at him. "Come here."

He takes the step forward, and she seizes him by the collar and shoves him against the container again, her body pressed flush against his and his arms circling her easily.

"And do what?" he asks.

"Report to me about the success of your mission," she says sarcastically. "On your knees, if necessary."

Teasing is fun. What's more fun is when Lee finds the side zip on her trousers and slips his hand underneath them to start tracing circles and letters on her exposed hip and thigh.

What's even better is how she starts making noise as he strokes bared skin and her hips start bucking up. Makes it easier to Lee to know what she wants.

And then when she eases his head down...


"Alert fighters. I SAID ALERT FIGHTERS," someone shouted. The entire room, which was holding its collective breath to hear about how Lee was about to go down on the president before she knocked him on his back and frakked him silly, groaned.

"That better be for frakking real!" Kat bitched. "Better be a frakking basestar. I want to HEAR this story's happy ending."

"Sorry, one time only event," Lee said, pulling down the sheet. "Helo, you going to hand over those cigars as well as your manly pride? Cuz it would appear I have just spanked your ass."

Helo handed over the cigars without even a smart comment, though Apollo, noting Starbuck's presence, knew that he was in for it anyway.

"Also, the ending is, 'and then Lee's mysterious woman kills him for telling all her secrets,'" Kara added, waving at Lee. "So unless you want to join him on the wrong side of the airlock, kids, mouths closed."

"You've got command of the alert fighters," Lee said to her, sounding considerably more sober. "I'm not on rotation for this patrol anyway. Helo, you're up. Kat, you're out, Hot Dog, suit up. Careful with Kat's underwear."

"Right," Starbuck said, smirking. "By the way, Lee? Nobody's all that fooled with the mysterious woman stuff -- we knew who you meant. Also, you're a jackass."

"Yes, I probably am," Apollo replied without flinching. "But I won the cigars, and nobody's calling me the prude ever again."

"No, just the walking dead man who is going to wake up with a hangover and an old-man-sized boot up your ass," Starbuck said, ruffling his head. "And that's before the presidential reprimand."

"Thanks for caring, Starbuck," Apollo said, waving her off. "Good hunting."

Starbuck snorted and watched Lee flop, half-drunk, onto his rack. Dumb frakking bastard; but if one of the nuggets tattled, she'd kill them for him.


Three days later, the pilots are still looking at Lee like he's grown that second head, but with respect for just how comfortable he is with it. He makes a special effort to smoke the first cigar in front of everyone while playing poker with the engineers.

"I hear you won a round of Helo's favorite game," Tyrol says after taking a couple hundred cubits off Lee. "What'd you say? I know Helo's still peddling the threesome crap, so yours must have been..."

"It was hot," Racetrack says, cutting in. "He totally made that shit up, but next time we know, we want some good jack-off material, just get Lee drunk."

"Good to know that everyone respects my storytelling abilities so," Lee says, taking another drag off his cigar. "Hot Dog still wearing women's underwear?"

Racetrack dissolves into giggles, and the other pilots in the room snort.

"Speaking of the perversions of Viper pilots, whichever one of you bastards who's using cargo bays to frak in, knock it off?" Tyrol requests acidly, shaking his head with disapproval.

"Cargo bays?" one of the engineers hoots. "Someone's got to be desperate to frak in there. Or have a girl who's turned on by big steel containers to shove a guy against."

The pilots aren't so much laughing. They're all busily staring at Apollo, who is saying nothing and staring at his cards like they've grown much more interesting.

"Almost walked right into 'em," Tyrol says, seemingly oblivious to the growing stunned silence in the room. "During a presidential visit, no less. Be more careful, huh? One of these days, the old man's gonna catch you at it during some inspection tour and do we really want to be caught with our pants down with Colonial One aboard?"

"Right, that would be bad," Racetrack says, gaping at Lee, who is shifting downward. "Bad like not making that shit UP, sir. You at least better be kidding about your special friend, right?"

Lee chokes on his ambrosia but does not answer. Tyrol looks around the room of silent and gaping pilots, and seems to pick up on the subtext.

"Something you want to share, Apollo?" Tyrol asks.

"Not really," Lee says. "We gonna finish this round or continue lecturing non-existent pilots about not frakking in cargo bays, Chief?"

"Right, sir," Tyrol says. "I raise."


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