At the End of Her World
More bsg_pornbattle. Laura/Bill, the last good time, intercrural sex
She remembered the last good time, back before the diloxin had robbed her of so much. Back when it didn't hurt to have him grab her breast roughly, pulling at her nipples until they hardened. Back when the touch of anything on her palette -- tongue, finger, cock -- hadn't made her gag. Back when an orgasm didn't leave her so dizzy she nearly passed out, back when she could really feel her own responses to his tongue on her clit, back when the feel of his hair on her thighs didn't fill her with envy and the memory of her own lost hair. Back when his touch on her skin didn't bruise. Back when she could still become wet for him, when it didn't hurt to let him into her body. Even back when there was still lube to be found on the black market, before all that was left was questionable home-brewed ointments which they were both reluctant to test against her compromised immune system.
But she still could feel pleasure, or at least feel pleasure at his pleasure, which is why they were lying on his rack, he naked, she fully clothed to keep him, the lube, his fluids from penetrating her, his hands clutching the pillows to stop him from clutching her. Her legs were tightly clamped and he thrust between her thighs. She could feel him through the wool of her slacks and hoped the wool wouldn't abrade her skin, leaving cracks for the lube or whatever it was to get into her system despite their precautions. She turned her head and lightly touched her lips to his straining arms, shifted beneath him to try to help him get where he was going. His rhythm was different than it used to be, less fluid, like it was hard work and not play.
"Do you remember the last time we made love?" she asked him.
"We are making love, right now."
"The last time we frakked, then."
"Laura…" a cautionary tone a tone that said 'don't go there, please don't, not while we're like this, Laura, please. Let me try to forget myself in you.'
"The night before my fourth treatment. I knew I was going to lose it, lose so much of what made me a woman. I wanted to have something to remember. I wanted everything with you. Against the hatch. On the floor. In your rack. Your mouth, your cock, your fingers…"
"Laura, please."
"What was your favorite, Bill? Of all the things we tried, all the things we've lost, what do you miss the most?"
He pulled away from her with a sigh, flopped on his back, still erect. She pulled the silken scarf off her head, wrapped it around her hand, wrapped her hand around his girth and stroked him. "Tell me."
"Against the sink in the head. You were bent over, and every time I'd hit a sweet spot you'd fling your head up, your hair flying everywhere. And when you came you clamped around me so hard and your head snapped up; I watched you in the mirror and I -- I don't think I'd come that hard in years."
He took her hand in his, moved it off his cock. "Forget it, Laura. Just let me hold you, OK?"
As he helped her undress she made the decision that had been in the back of her mind for days. Frak diloxin. No more treatments. She was almost reconciled to the idea of dying, but she'd never reconcile with not living her life. It had taken too much away, and she wouldn't let it take this, too. She wanted him to be able to remember their last time as the last good time.