Even death cannot part true minds
Another entry in the bsg_kink's Wrong Pairings challenge
Pairing:Laura Roslin, William Adama, Head!Carolanne Adama
Kink: voyeurism, revenge/grief
Synopsis: He's finally in bed with Laura. So what's Carolanne doing there?
"I see you've gotten over your hair fixation." She smiles at me, teasing, and draws a chair up to the bed. To our bed.
"Go away, Carolanne," I whisper. I don't want to wake Laura. It's the first peaceful sleep she's gotten in months.
"You're the one who invited me here. To brag?"
I shake my head, try to clear my thoughts. Carolanne belongs tucked safely away, in the drawer, in the back of my mind, except for that one day a year. She doesn't belong in the bedroom with me and Laura. And yet. I've brought her here.
I hug Laura closer to me, all bones and angles and skin, and look at Carolanne. Lush curves, blonde hair. She smells of jasmine and of alcohol. Laura smells of me.
Carolanne runs a finger over Laura's exposed scalp. "You hit the trifecta this time, Bill. She's got looks, she's got connections, and she's got cancer."
"You always were a bitch."
"And you were always the man who fought for lost causes. Is she worth it?"
I kiss the back of Laura's shoulder in answer. In want. In need. In knowing that she's worth the heartbreak.
"She's got a great pair of legs," Carolanne interrupts my thoughts. Odd, since she is my thoughts.
I thank her, as though Laura's legs were my own personal accomplishment.
I barely notice the blanket lowering to Laura's waist. "Nice rack. For a woman her age."
"Same age as you, Carolanne." I cover Laura's breasts, protectively at first. But all this is too new and too long awaited and before I'm conscious of it, my hands are cupping, stroking, caressing.
Laura stirs, and I whisper in her ear. Sleep, sleep. I soothe her, my hand running over her side, her hip, her thigh. Laura reaches up to take my hand and I feel the ghost of another hand whispering above us.
"Can't sleep when there are more important things to do," Laura tells me, grinding her ass into my groin. I pull her tighter yet.
"Is she actually going to manage to get you up twice in one night?" Carolanne taunts.
"You never could," I tell both women.
"Well, then. Go ahead." Carolanne settles back onto the chair.
"Would you mind--" I try to dispel Carolanne, but since I've spoken aloud, Laura thinks I'm talking to her. She reaches back to stroke my half-hardness into something she can use. We're still holding hands, we two (we three?) as I reach around her front to where she's bare and ready for me. I close my eyes for privacy, not wanting to see Carolanne inspecting the shell of all the things I love about Laura. Not wanting to see anything but the Laura Roslin that's in my mind.
When I'm able, I give my body to Laura. Over her shoulder I can see Carolanne watching. I want her to go. I want her to stay and see everything. I want her to know what I could have given her.
Laura rocks against me, babbling streams of yes, please, gods, right there, more, hard, Bill, now just -- as my cock quickens and our hands on her clit slow.
When Laura climaxes, and when I do, Carolanne starts a slow clap.
"So this is my competition."
"It's not a competition. We got divorced," I remind her.
"And I died. Then again, so will she."
Pairing:Laura Roslin, William Adama, Head!Carolanne Adama
Kink: voyeurism, revenge/grief
Synopsis: He's finally in bed with Laura. So what's Carolanne doing there?
"I see you've gotten over your hair fixation." She smiles at me, teasing, and draws a chair up to the bed. To our bed.
"Go away, Carolanne," I whisper. I don't want to wake Laura. It's the first peaceful sleep she's gotten in months.
"You're the one who invited me here. To brag?"
I shake my head, try to clear my thoughts. Carolanne belongs tucked safely away, in the drawer, in the back of my mind, except for that one day a year. She doesn't belong in the bedroom with me and Laura. And yet. I've brought her here.
I hug Laura closer to me, all bones and angles and skin, and look at Carolanne. Lush curves, blonde hair. She smells of jasmine and of alcohol. Laura smells of me.
Carolanne runs a finger over Laura's exposed scalp. "You hit the trifecta this time, Bill. She's got looks, she's got connections, and she's got cancer."
"You always were a bitch."
"And you were always the man who fought for lost causes. Is she worth it?"
I kiss the back of Laura's shoulder in answer. In want. In need. In knowing that she's worth the heartbreak.
"She's got a great pair of legs," Carolanne interrupts my thoughts. Odd, since she is my thoughts.
I thank her, as though Laura's legs were my own personal accomplishment.
I barely notice the blanket lowering to Laura's waist. "Nice rack. For a woman her age."
"Same age as you, Carolanne." I cover Laura's breasts, protectively at first. But all this is too new and too long awaited and before I'm conscious of it, my hands are cupping, stroking, caressing.
Laura stirs, and I whisper in her ear. Sleep, sleep. I soothe her, my hand running over her side, her hip, her thigh. Laura reaches up to take my hand and I feel the ghost of another hand whispering above us.
"Can't sleep when there are more important things to do," Laura tells me, grinding her ass into my groin. I pull her tighter yet.
"Is she actually going to manage to get you up twice in one night?" Carolanne taunts.
"You never could," I tell both women.
"Well, then. Go ahead." Carolanne settles back onto the chair.
"Would you mind--" I try to dispel Carolanne, but since I've spoken aloud, Laura thinks I'm talking to her. She reaches back to stroke my half-hardness into something she can use. We're still holding hands, we two (we three?) as I reach around her front to where she's bare and ready for me. I close my eyes for privacy, not wanting to see Carolanne inspecting the shell of all the things I love about Laura. Not wanting to see anything but the Laura Roslin that's in my mind.
When I'm able, I give my body to Laura. Over her shoulder I can see Carolanne watching. I want her to go. I want her to stay and see everything. I want her to know what I could have given her.
Laura rocks against me, babbling streams of yes, please, gods, right there, more, hard, Bill, now just -- as my cock quickens and our hands on her clit slow.
When Laura climaxes, and when I do, Carolanne starts a slow clap.
"So this is my competition."
"It's not a competition. We got divorced," I remind her.
"And I died. Then again, so will she."