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bsg slashathon

Title: Galen Tyrol : Sensualist. Pairing: Chief/Anders Rating: R for…

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Title: Galen Tyrol : Sensualist.
Pairing: Chief/Anders
Rating: R for brief flashbacks
Warnings: Sometimes A Great Notion spoilers.
Prompt: Character study : Galen Tyrol.
Summary: Digs a little deeper into his flashbacks.
Notes: Avocados.

He knew the softness of the flesh against his lips, how it almost melted between the roof of his mouth and his tongue. The shock of the color and bright, clean smell. The way his teeth would sink into it like it was nothing. He could see it too, as he held it against someone else's lips, a little smirk with it. It occurred to him that he'd chosen that meal intentionally, along with the flowers. He'd been reading about how engaging the senses improved the sex.

Galen had never really thought of himself as a sensualist, but it made sense. Maybe it was because life aboard the battlestar engaged so few of his senses. The harsh, uneven light, constantly hard surfaces that were always just a little too cold, and the smells... were better left out. So he'd numbed himself over the years, better to feel nothing than to feel only discomfort. The only real sensual pleasures he'd gotten were from sex. And really, that had been uneven at best too, as while Sharon had been eager and game for it, those moments had been rare and stolen, and Cally's desires had been fickle.

But recalling the pleasures from his previous life... no, he had an extreme awareness of his senses. It didn't surprise him the way some of his other memories had. The feeling of glasses resting on his nose, his ears seemed remote, and he coudln't help but wonder what had happened to his eyesight.

As he sat, staring off into the landscape, he couldn't help but remember blurry features. What it was like to see someone and not focus on them, just to absorb the glow of skin in the dawn. That image, like the avocado, came with a flood of sensory data, the smells of sweat and detergent, warmth along his whole body. Warm, strong fingers ghosting over his cock, to stir him into arousal.

...now that last was a little strange, and he needed a moment to really process it. And yet he didn't get it, everything washed over him all at once. A rush of pleasure, intense, all of his attention focused on the landscape that was his body. He heard the song again, the one that had summoned Tory and Tigh and Sam to that same hallway that night. The passion of the vocals cut through again, the raw edge, and the voice... he knew it.

"Fuck, Galen..." said the voice. It was like watching a film in fast forward. He looked upwards from how he'd been, from along his body to meet Sam's eyes. Sam's hips moved faster in little circles that drove him closer and closer, the way the song reached its zenith before it all unwound. This was the dream you woke up sweaty from, and coudln't face him the next morning. "God!'" He'd cried out. It left him panting and breathless.

The flowers... he'd been getting him flowers. And the avocado. He'd been such a hedonist. Sam had, too. Anything that could please them, they'd done it. Not destructivley. But they'd lived in days when they'd awoken in each other's arms in a real bed that was soft to the touch, and they'd gotten so much enjoyment from each other. He was still having trouble rationalizing it. Sam, his best friend.

It was bittersweet. He knew he'd loved him. He'd been so happy. And there was something about it that pulled at him, that instead of giving joy only made him feel emptier, like now he knew what they'd had and lost. Like they'd been promised Earth and had it pulled instantly from their grasp. He heard Sam's footsteps before he even saw him coming. He didn't remember enough to bother discussing with him, not really. Not much more than his greasy stain on the wall and fleeting half-memories.

"I used to live here." He knew it was bleak, sitting next to where he'd died.
"Me too. That song that switched us on. I played it. For a woman I loved."
"I remember." Tory showed up out of nowhere, looking bleaker than the rest of them. At least Sam had a little smile.
"You do?"
"You played it for all of us."
"That was me." The greasy stain. "We died in a Holocaust."
"So why are we still alive? That happened 2,000 years ago. How did we get to the Colonies? Come to think that we were human. 2,000 years is a long time to forget."

They were all silent on that count. No one knew. No one seemed to have any answers, really, not solid ones. Tyrol wanted to know what else they remembered, but didn't want to ask until he was more certain. And the girl Sam spoke of... somehow that made him feel awkward, like he'd been cheated on without even knowing it. The idea that Sam had had love. Maybe it was with Tory. No, he didn't think it was Tory. He was pretty sure Sam and Tory had fraked in this incarnation of their lives, but if they'd had passion before they would have found it again. She wouldn't follow Baltar the way she did.

Hours later, at Joe's, which had now broken down into a self-serve alcohol dispensary, Sam joined Tyrol to brood over large mugs of the ship's special, fermented algae. They sat in silence for a little while, looking more into their drinks than at each other. Galen wondered idly if Sam remembered what he did, but it was like mentioning a crush. Anything he said might ruin the last precious friendship he really had on the ship, after his outburst.

"The girl I played that song for. She didn't love me back," Sam finally said, after a long time.
"But you loved her," was all he could think to say. It was tragic, really, that all Sam had were women that didn't love him.
"When I first sang it, I guess. But it doesn't hurt the way it should." The little smile was almost reassuring. "What do you remember?"
"Flowers. I was buying flowers when I died. And avocados." It seemed an odd detail. But the thing was the last ting he'd touched, so he figured clinging to it wasn't a problem.
"Who were the flowers for? Do you know?" Sam decided to avoid asking about the fruit.
"No," said Galen.
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