"It's the end of the world, and no one thought to bring any lube," Hot Dog muttered to himself as he stomped through the corridors on his way back to the bunkroom. He'd spent most of the morning hunting through lockers, shower kits, and talking to every black market contact he had. No one had anything that resembled lubricant on the whole damn ship. He wondered idly, in between trying to think of how to break the news to Kat, what exactly Tank and Crashdown had done for all those months they were together before Crash died. "No gods damned lube anywhere..." he mumbled again.
"Did you ever think of trying soap?" came an irritated female voice, and Hot Dog looked up to see his CAG sitting kicked back in the Pilot's rec room, feet propped up on the table, and wearing a trademark scowl. When he blinked at her she arched an eyebrow. "Gods, be a ittle creative sometimes Costanza."
He stood there for just a moment dumb-founded, before continuing down the hall in a much brighter mood. Time to go ask Kat if she wanted to take a shower.
She's scoured the black market, and has come to the unhappy conclusion that of all the things that miraculously survived the end of the worlds, no one brought any sex toys. She's really not sure how that can be, since they have at least two luxury liners in the fleet, but if anyone has any they're hiding them from the rest of the fleet really damn well.
Usually, Kara really doesn't mind relying on her own two hands. She hadn't had any toys with her when she signed on board Galactica, after all. But every so often, doing yourself by yourself just doesn't have quite enough kick. Not like another person, or at the very least a good toy. But Helo's well and truly taken, Hot Dog and Duck arecompletely out of the question, and that pretty much leaves Lee.
Who's made it incredibly clear he's just not interested.
Actually, and she thinks about it again, that's not entirely true. She's the one who stepped away (though not without a last kiss, because she couldn't help herself) but it's easier to blame it on him, and tell herself he's not interested. That's an easier way for her to talk herself out of it than if she tries to say that it's her that thinks it's a bad idea. Because really, Lee's impossible to reason with. She's incredibly good at doing things that are bad for her.
The latest batch of the chief's home brew leads to an orgy of sorts on D deck. The triad game devolves rather rapidly into strip-Triad, because Kat's out of credits and socks again, and Helo's evil enough to suggest it as an alternative. With Starbuck still AWOL from the gaming table, and Lee sulking in his office about some latest breech of protocol (and Helo's pretty sure that, as usual, the two instances are somewhat related) the games have been really frakking boring lately.
Sharon shoots him a look just before folding her hand and kicking back to watch the fallout. He shrugs in a way that says "I'll be good, but you can't blame me for wanting a peek" and she lifts a corner of her mouth in a half-smile. Strip triad leads to a kind of impromptu truth or dare game, with dares being the order of the evening and taking the place of items of clothing if someone is feeling particularly threatened. Which is how Racetrack ends up in just her briefs, sucking on Kat's nipple while Hot Dog is holding onto her hips to keep her from falling over. (She's had a jar and a half of the strong stuff by then.)
Lee's first thought when he walks into the scene is that they're all a bunch of frakking juveniles, and he really wishes Kara was there to talk him into joining them. But she's not, and without her, he can't unwind enough to give in.
If there's one thing that everyone on the Galactica has gotten good at, it's self-love. More to the point, self-love done as quietly as humanly possible. People who had once been screamers, moaners, and thrashers learned fairly quickly to tone it down, shut up, and stay as still as they possibly could while pleasuring themselves.
There were only a few possible locations to use (although girls had a slightly easier time of it than the guys did) - the head, the shower block, one's own rack - on the very, very rare occasion the obs deck was deserted it was also useful, although that was normally the kind of place you saved for frakking with someone rather than without them.
Kara had had to tone herself way down - and for more reasons than just not wanting to wake up the other pilots trying to sleep. She had a tendency to moan names when she came, especially if she was by herself and having to fantasize different things to get off.
Lately? The star of her rather torrid dreams happened to be one Lee Adama, best friend, partner, nearly brother, and oh yes, her CAG. It was enough to make someone want to go beat their head against a bulkhead a few times.
So she tried her best to tone it down and stay quiet. Mostly, she kept ended ending up with bloody lips where she would accidentally bite down too hard to in her attempts to quiet herself.
Sex with a Cylon is a new twist on cyber sex. That irreverent thought is the one that keeps entering Kara's mind every time she thinks about Sharon with Karl - something she doesn't exactly want to think about, but can't quite avoid. She's sitting in the mess, watching the two of them having breakfast, doing nothing particularly obvious or even out of the ordinary (doing nothing at all, actually, she reminds herself) but it's an image she can't get away from.