What You Remember
Posted to the bsg_pornbattle, pairing Laura/Bill, prompts: I want to remember you forever, "didn't you think I knew the word 'cock'?" Thanks to alesia027 for the beta. Not everyone would take on a n00b author.
The first few times it was more about symbolism than lust: reconciliation, the unity of military and civilian made flesh, the prophet mating with the warrior chief. It was gentle and reverent; Laura bound him to her policies with her body, and he promised that when she was gone, there would be one man amongst the remnants of humanity who'd remember the woman and not the symbol.
But then she didn't die. She didn't die and she came back, fast and fierce, picking up the slack, catching up on all the things she missed. They met with Baltar and Fisk about the black market. She left. Baltar and Fisk left. And then she came back.
"Admiral."
"Madame President," he answered, a statement, a question, trying to catch up with whatever plan she'd already formulated.
Laura began walking around the room. "There were things I let slide when I was ill. Things I didn't focus on as fully as I should have."
"As I said before, Madame President, that's behind us now."
She leaned back against his desk. "Is it?"
He stood up, suddenly concerned. "The cancer is gone, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes. It's gone. No trace of it to be found. I don't need you to remember me anymore, Admiral."
"I want to remember you, Laura. I want to remember you forever."
"Like that?"
"Yes."
"The way it was? Past tense?"
"If that's what you want."
She moved closer to him, an arm's length away, a touch away, a breath away. "Are you always so easy?"
"I've been taking orders my whole career."
"And what about what you want, Bill?"
"What I want?" he repeated, as though no one had ever asked him that before. "I usually want too much."
"Or maybe not enough," Laura corrected him.
She launched herself at him, mouth tongue teeth hands, harder and hotter than any of the times before. Catching up with what she'd missed, sprinting past him, following her desires while he lagged behind. Her hands unbuckled his belt, lowered his zipper, and she sank down to her knees, dragging his pants and boxers with her.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I would think that was obvious." She leaned closer, hands on his thighs.
"Laura?" Surprised, shocked, maybe a touch delirious. Doubting this was happening to him.
"I want to taste you," she said, her words becoming puffs of air along his erection. "I want to suck your cock."
He startled, stiffened in less than pleasant ways, took a step back, let out a strangled "Laura!"
"Didn't you think I knew the word 'cock'?" She laughed at him.
"I never doubted the…breadth of your education, Madame President. Just -- before, we never -- you never --"
She sat back on her heels and looked up at him over the frames of her glasses. "Frak 'before'. Frak 'we never.' The woman I was, whoever she was -- Pythia reborn, the dying leader -- she doesn't exist anymore. I don't know who I'm becoming, but I know what I like. I know what I want. I like powerful men. I want you. I like the taste of a man. I want to taste you." A moment passed, a second, a minute, a lifetime while he hesitated. "For frak's sake. What do you think your cock is? A restricted military asset? Do I have to make it a presidential request?"
He stepped forward, collided with her leaning forward, and he was in her mouth, tight and wet and hard suction and lapping tongue, hands everywhere she could reach, and all he could do was hold onto her head, her shoulders, trying to keep upright, allowing himself to take where before he had only allowed himself to give. As he neared his climax he tried to push her away -- no one had ever swallowed him, at least not without getting paid for it -- but she grabbed his ass, pulling him closer, taking everything he had to give her and licking her lips after.
He tumbled back onto his couch as she straightened her clothing. "You still want to remember me?" she asked.
He nodded. "I don't think I could forget you."
The president gave her hair a final pat, her jacket one last tug, slid her politician's mask into place. She opened the hatch and then turned halfway back, her smile a promise and a threat. "Admiral, I have not yet begun to be memorable."
The first few times it was more about symbolism than lust: reconciliation, the unity of military and civilian made flesh, the prophet mating with the warrior chief. It was gentle and reverent; Laura bound him to her policies with her body, and he promised that when she was gone, there would be one man amongst the remnants of humanity who'd remember the woman and not the symbol.
But then she didn't die. She didn't die and she came back, fast and fierce, picking up the slack, catching up on all the things she missed. They met with Baltar and Fisk about the black market. She left. Baltar and Fisk left. And then she came back.
"Admiral."
"Madame President," he answered, a statement, a question, trying to catch up with whatever plan she'd already formulated.
Laura began walking around the room. "There were things I let slide when I was ill. Things I didn't focus on as fully as I should have."
"As I said before, Madame President, that's behind us now."
She leaned back against his desk. "Is it?"
He stood up, suddenly concerned. "The cancer is gone, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes. It's gone. No trace of it to be found. I don't need you to remember me anymore, Admiral."
"I want to remember you, Laura. I want to remember you forever."
"Like that?"
"Yes."
"The way it was? Past tense?"
"If that's what you want."
She moved closer to him, an arm's length away, a touch away, a breath away. "Are you always so easy?"
"I've been taking orders my whole career."
"And what about what you want, Bill?"
"What I want?" he repeated, as though no one had ever asked him that before. "I usually want too much."
"Or maybe not enough," Laura corrected him.
She launched herself at him, mouth tongue teeth hands, harder and hotter than any of the times before. Catching up with what she'd missed, sprinting past him, following her desires while he lagged behind. Her hands unbuckled his belt, lowered his zipper, and she sank down to her knees, dragging his pants and boxers with her.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I would think that was obvious." She leaned closer, hands on his thighs.
"Laura?" Surprised, shocked, maybe a touch delirious. Doubting this was happening to him.
"I want to taste you," she said, her words becoming puffs of air along his erection. "I want to suck your cock."
He startled, stiffened in less than pleasant ways, took a step back, let out a strangled "Laura!"
"Didn't you think I knew the word 'cock'?" She laughed at him.
"I never doubted the…breadth of your education, Madame President. Just -- before, we never -- you never --"
She sat back on her heels and looked up at him over the frames of her glasses. "Frak 'before'. Frak 'we never.' The woman I was, whoever she was -- Pythia reborn, the dying leader -- she doesn't exist anymore. I don't know who I'm becoming, but I know what I like. I know what I want. I like powerful men. I want you. I like the taste of a man. I want to taste you." A moment passed, a second, a minute, a lifetime while he hesitated. "For frak's sake. What do you think your cock is? A restricted military asset? Do I have to make it a presidential request?"
He stepped forward, collided with her leaning forward, and he was in her mouth, tight and wet and hard suction and lapping tongue, hands everywhere she could reach, and all he could do was hold onto her head, her shoulders, trying to keep upright, allowing himself to take where before he had only allowed himself to give. As he neared his climax he tried to push her away -- no one had ever swallowed him, at least not without getting paid for it -- but she grabbed his ass, pulling him closer, taking everything he had to give her and licking her lips after.
He tumbled back onto his couch as she straightened her clothing. "You still want to remember me?" she asked.
He nodded. "I don't think I could forget you."
The president gave her hair a final pat, her jacket one last tug, slid her politician's mask into place. She opened the hatch and then turned halfway back, her smile a promise and a threat. "Admiral, I have not yet begun to be memorable."