"Major."

He doesn't open his eyes, doesn't acknowledge the rough, raspy whisper. He lies there, silently cataloging every pulse of his blood, every ache that intensifies with the beat of his heart.

"Major."

He exhales again, a hard, hot sigh that seems to fill the air around him. "What is it, Racetrack?"

She swallows, her gaze darting away from his face at the sound of her name. "The Admiral wants to see you, sir. Discreetly."

Lee counts to ten in his head then counts again, watching Racetrack's growing edginess. Finally he sits up, barely biting back the groan that replaces the sound of all his muscles screaming in his head.

"This better be frakking important." Lee stands slowly, stiffly. His eyes cut to Racetrack and this time she holds his gaze. "Is it, Lieutenant?"

"Sir?"

He shakes his head, reaching for his uniform jacket. "Who's flying CAP?"

"Kat, sir."

He nods. "Good enough."

"Sir."

He meets her gaze and then smiles. "Come on, Maggie. Can't shoot the messenger if you stay here."

Maggie falls in step beside him, her long legs keeping pace with his hurried stride. She doesn't look at him, doesn't have to to know the look on his face, the shift in his eyes. He'd smiled at her, but it had faded before he'd made it to the hatch, the sound of his father's summons in the silence between them.

CIC is quiet, everything's quiet. The ship is never silent, though there are lulls and times when everything feels normal, like there's day and night, like there's a day and not just the endless movement of darkness around them. If she looked at her watch, she'd know if it was night or day or between, or just an illusion, but the ship's asleep, and everyone seems to be talking in whispers.

The Admiral pulls the Major aside the moment they walk in, his gaze on Maggie as well. Lee follows his father's look and offers her a smile, then turns back to his father, their voices dropped lower than the hum of the ship itself.

Maggie walks around and looks at the people at their stations, eyes on screens and fingers against headpieces. She tilts her head and tries to see them through different eyes, wondering if one of them is a Cylon, if someone somewhere is betraying them.

"Maggie."

She starts at Lee's touch and blinks, turning her head to face him. His expression is grave, hard and determined, and she wonders what was said, what he knows, what it is. She never used to wonder, used to just fly her bird until she got where she was supposed to go, but now every trip means a chance at death, every planet the possibility of Earth. Nothing's easy anymore. Nothing's the same.

"Yes, sir?"

"Come on."

Lee rests his hand in the small of her back, unwilling to remove it despite the possibility it could be misconstrued. His father's words echo in his head, and he knows that everything in the world is about to change. He wants to stop it, wants to fix it, wants to make it right, but there's no right anymore. He's learning that lesson the hard way, getting truth slammed into his head and his heart again and again until all he can feel is the ghostly residual of the blows.

He steers her deep into the ship, dodging the few people they meet, his head ducked down, tilted toward Maggie's as if they're talking, as if there's something he could say. He knows he owes her some sort of explanation, but right now he can't give it, can't give anything, and all he can do is take her presence and use it to hold himself upright.

"Sir?"

Lee looks up, realizing they've stopped, reached a dead end. It's dark and it's quiet despite the noises on the other side of the doors, the hum and heartbeat of the ship itself. She's staring at him, her eyes widened with questions and concern, and it's the concern that does him in. She starts to speak again and he shakes his head, leaning in instead and silencing her with a kiss.

Maggie freezes at his touch, and he knows he's gone too far, knows he's stepped over the edge of the precipice and everything else is free fall, but then she's kissing him back, mouth opening under his and tongue sliding between his lips, tasting him, and he wonders vaguely for a moment if he tastes like a man or like desperation or if there's something in between.

Maggie groans beneath the assault of Lee's kiss, and that's what it is, a flat out assault on her mouth, her senses, her state of mind. She doesn't know exactly what the frak she's stumbled into - she's just the frakking messenger - but she can't quite say no either, not with his hands on her, tugging up her jacket and tanks until his fingers are hot on her skin.

She doesn't try to stop him, doesn't do anything more than curve a leg around the back of his thighs and thrust up against him, feeling the hard press of his cock against her and biting back a groan as his hips rock forward against hers. He doesn't say anything, doesn't make a sound, just keeps kissing her, holding her against the cold metal so hard she can feel rivets and metal seams against her skin through her uniform.

He pushes her clothes up, fumbling with them to get them loose, letting her tags fall coldly against her skin. She doesn't let him bother with her bra, instead tugging it off herself, not caring that they're where anyone who walks by can see them because he's bending his head and he's taking her breast in his hand, in his mouth and it's so frakking hot it makes the cold metal worse by comparison.

"Gods," she murmurs into the air, her head falling back and slamming against the bulkhead. She arches her back, her ass and shoulders against the metal as his hands curve along her spine, stroking the line of it as his mouth suckles her, teeth and lips and tongue teasing her nipple until it's so hard it aches. She slides her hands up, digging her nails into his scalp, the short bristles of his hair tickling her palms. "Gods…M-major."

He laughs against her skin and switches breasts and she's suddenly aware of how muggy and thick the air is on Galactica, aware of how much it clings to your skin as it dances across her wet breast, producing a different sort of ache. Lee's mouth moves over her other breast just as hungrily, feasting on her like he's been living on a diet of algae for years instead of just a month or two.

He slides down to his knees, looking up at her, his lips parted and red, swollen slightly, but not as much as the hard pink tips of her breasts, wet from his mouth and attention. He smiles and kisses the flat of her stomach. "I think it's safe to call me Lee, Maggie."

"L…" She can't manage the word as he unfastens her slacks, the heavy metal of her belt buckle falling back and clanging hard against the bulkhead as he pushes the fabric back, away, off of her. She feels strange, naked except for her pants around her ankles and regulation briefs, but she also feels alive, his hands and mouth and eyes devouring her, looking at her like she's beautiful, like she's dressed in frakking lace and silk. "Major…"

He nuzzles the thin gray fabric of her briefs, worn threadbare from too many washings, barely enough to keep his breath from scorching her skin. She swallows a noise, unwilling to let he know completely how much he's affecting her, getting to her as his thumbs brush the skin of her stomach and then curl under the stretched elastic and push her briefs down to the floor as well.

"Oh. Oh, Gods." She shivers, though there's nothing cold about her anymore. Everything is hot enough to burn, hot enough that even his hands on her thighs feel like relief, sliding up and down from her knees to her hips, his thumbs grazing at the curve of her inner thigh. He's watching her body with a sort of reverence that she's only ever seen on his face when he's near Starbuck, and something about that makes her shake all the harder, makes her apply pressure to the back of his skull and urge him closer.

He takes orders like a good soldier, moving in with the press of her fingers, his mouth poised over the dark hair at the apex of her thighs. She can feel his breath dancing across her skin and leans back, her legs spread as far as the uniform at her feet will let them, far enough for his tongue to snake inside and part the flesh, stealing a taste. Her breath falters and then speeds up, like a bird losing its power for a moment and then finding it again, freefalling down and then spiraling up.

"Maggie." He mutters the word against her skin, his hand sliding down the back of her leg to tease her slacks and boots off. Maggie closes her eyes, her hands on his shoulders then in his hair. She hitches her hips forward, granting him more access, barely managing to keep her moan in check as the hand at the back of her thigh guides her leg up, over his shoulder, opening her up to him completely.

"A-A…Major." She gasps, unsure of what to call him or what to say, unsure of what to do. His mouth is hot on her skin, fueling the fire building between her legs. Her head falls back, hitting hard against the metal and she digs her heel into his back, feeling him groan against her.

His tongue is wicked, dancing over the surface of her skin and then pushing inside her as one of his hands strokes the back of one leg, the other tracing the curve of her ass. She can feel his fingers slide closer, tracing the wet line of her skin before pulling away. He gets closer every time and it takes everything she has not to push down against them, shift and feel them slide inside her.

"Frak, Major…"

He turns his head, laughing against her inner thigh. She's not sure what's funny, but she doesn't care as he eases her leg away and stands up, hands trapping her against the bulkhead as he uses it for support, leaning in against her so their bodies brush. She can feel him, hard beneath his uniform, and she wants this for reasons she won't think about, though the sheer bragging rights of bagging Apollo is enough to guarantee her legendary status amongst the fleet, and a permanent place on the top of Kara Thrace's shit list.

Maggie feels his cock, her hand sliding over the uniform, tugging the zipper down, and decides it's worth it. She pushes the fabric away and takes him in her hand, stroking him as slowly as she can manage before he grips her wrists in his hands and pins them back, holding her captive as he kisses her.

It's nearly impossible not to groan, since Apollo does nothing by half-measure, and it feels like he's taking possession with his mouth and lips and tongue, the faint taste of her own arousal staining his lips. She thrusts against him, wanting more, needing it enough to bite as his lower lip, to distract him from kissing her.

"Frak me."

He groans and nods, hands sliding down to cup her ass and lifts her up. She slides onto him with the ease of slick heat and need, arching as he fills her, pushing deep and hard. She wraps her legs around his waist, not caring about anything more than this anymore - not why they're here, not what he wants. All she wants is the hard pressure of her beating pulse to reach some sort of crescendo and let her freefall until it finds its regular rhythm again.

Lee moves inside her with purpose, that determined intensity that fuels everything he does present even in this. She's fairly certain she's never been frakked this hard and this desperately, and she wonders what the frak his wife and girlfriend have been doing that he needs this, but she's more than happy to provide it. She tightens her legs around him, drawing him deeper and rests her mouth against the cords of his neck, tasting sweat and feeling the rough pounding of his blood. He tastes like power, and she wonders why no one else sees that, if he weren't so frakking noble, Lee Adama would either rule them all or kill them all.

"Frak," he shudders inside her, around her. "Frak, Maggie."

She finds his mouth, shuts him up. She's realized that she doesn't want to know what this is or what it's about. Maybe it's Cylons, sudden death around the next star cluster. She doesn't know, doesn't care. She has this and that's all that matters. When they're in CAP or in their birds, she'll know she's had him between her thighs, that he needed this, needed her.

She tightens around him, feeling him shudder again. He breaks the kiss to breathe, but she doesn't let him, finding his mouth again before he can even draw air. He moans, no sound at all, just surrender, and comes inside her, pulsing and hot and wet. She clenches her body, muscles contracting until they ache, until he makes a noise, another surrender that he wasn't quite willing to give, and then she comes around him, arching into the rough wave of it as she breaks the kiss, leaving them both gasping for air like there's a leak somewhere in the room.

Lee eases Maggie away from him, careful with her as if she's something that might break instead of the woman who just nearly broke him. She's all sass and smile, but there's nothing vicious in it, not like he's used to. Her smile is pure self-satisfaction and satiation and he can't help but return it.

He steps back as she dresses, taking the time to tuck himself back into his uniform. She watches him even as she tugs on her own clothes, smirking still. "You flyboys always have it easy. Zip it up and you're done."

"Well, we have to do all the other work."

She laughs and shakes her head. "You've been frakkin' the wrong girls, Apollo." She reaches back and undoes her ponytail, raking her hands through her hair before fastening it again. "Supposed to be a win-win situation."

"Those still allowed these days?"

She grins at him and pushes off the wall, grinning at him as she walks away. "That's about the only place you can still find it." She turns and walks backwards, watching him as she disappears into the hallway. "Seems a pity to let the Cylons steal that too."