Unwound (3/4)
Title: Unwound (3/4)
Author: icedteainthebag
Word Count: 5,815
Rating: MA
Pairings: Bill Adama/Carolanne Adama, Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh
Summary: Unwinding the labyrinth.
Notes: tjonesy bought my services in the help_haiti auction and requested a story in which Bill and Ellen frakked. This is what happened. Thanks to her for inspiring me to write it and putting her foot up my ass to finish it. My love and overly affectionate praise go out to larsfarm77 and somadanne for the amazing betas.
Link to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Bill keys in and lets her walk in first. He feels like he’s in college again as he watches her examine their surroundings. Saul’s left the hallway light on, which is about as considerate as he gets.
“You are such a guy,” she says, toeing the pile of boots under the table on which Saul’s tossed at least a week’s worth of mail and his car keys.
“I only live here.” He kicks off his boots and adds them to the pile. She leaves her shoes on as she picks up a letter, like it’s any of her business.
“Saul?” she asks. “Your name’s Saul Tigh?”
Her tone is loud and he glances down the hallway to Saul’s closed door. He doesn’t want her to wake him; it would be awkward to have to explain this.
His reaction is delayed, but he realizes then that they haven’t even exchanged names. He feels his cheeks flush with even more heat than already provided by the alcohol. “No. That’s my roommate. The guy I’m letting the room from.”
She chuckles once, tossing the letter back to the table. “Are you gonna tell me your name or you want me to make something up for you?”
“As much fun as that’d be, my name’s Bill.”
She smiles, pulling her hair behind her ear. “Bill. William?”
“Yes.”
“Your dad’s name?”
“My grandfather’s.” He watches her shed her coat and she hands it to him. He takes it and hangs it in the hall closet before taking a better look at her. The short black sheath dress hangs on her slender frame, thin spaghetti straps resting against the soft rise of her collarbone. He feels an urge to press his mouth against the ridge right under her neck, but resists.
“So,” she says, shifting her weight on her heels. “Your roommate, is he gone?”
“He’s sleeping.”
She nods, biting her lip. Then she tilts her head and narrows her eyes with a nod. “Let’s cut the crap, Bill. I’m not here for conversation. And I don’t think that’s why you brought me here.”
“I don’t kn-”
“It’s not.” She interrupts him, smiling. “So why don’t you just show me your room already?”
He feels his heartbeat quicken and he swallows dryly. “This way.”
He can’t believe he’s doing this; at the same time, maybe it’s the last self-destructive indulgence he needs to complete the cycle.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing hers, and she grasps at them with an affirming squeeze. He walks down the hallway and pushes open his door, wincing at the sharp squeak that increases in volume as he enters the room. He flicks on the light.
“This is it,” he says softly. “It’s not much. I’m kind of in a state of upheaval right now.”
He feels her press against his back and closes his eyes as her hands travel around his waist, then smooth down his hips to rest on either side of his groin.
“I don’t care,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against the nape of his neck.
I don’t care anymore, Bill.
He lets out a deeply held breath, pushing the air out until his lungs are completely empty. As he breathes in again, the scent of her fills his senses. Her breasts press firmly against his body as her tongue traces the tension-ridden muscle of his neck. She lets out a soft whimper that makes his cock tingle, arousal kindling deep in his belly.
“You do have a condom, right?”
His eyes open at the sudden jolt of realization that deflates his slowly hardening cock.
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Are you serious?” she asks, the low tone of her voice humming against his shirt.
“Hold on.” He feels like a frakkin’ idiot for not thinking of this before. He could have stopped by the drugstore. He hasn’t bought condoms in ages. “Let me... give me a few.”
She pulls away and he turns around to face her. “You don’t have any?” he asks.
“I told you,” she replies, “I’m not a whore.”
“Frak,” he groans through his teeth. “Hold on.”
“Holding,” she says, putting her hand on her hip.
He leaves her in the bedroom and walks down the hallway, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob of Saul’s room. So much for avoiding the awkward. He can’t really turn her away now.
Saul has to have something. He’s a single guy. A single guy who barhops as a part-time gig.
He pushes open the door. It also squeaks, making Bill’s humiliation grow more as he approaches his new roommate’s bed. A deep, loud snore only amplifies Bill’s guilt at waking Saul for such an occasion.
He’s never going to live this one down.
“Saul.”
Saul grumbles an incoherent response. His slight form seems massive bundled under his comforter.
“Saul. Where do you keep your condoms?”
That did it. Saul turns in his bed and Bill feels like even more of an idiot. “My what?”
“You heard me.”
“Why you need those?”
Bill runs his hand through his hair, sighing. “Why do you think?”
Saul chuckles. “Right. You suave frakker. Thought you were just goin’ out for a drink.”
“Yeah, well, so did I.”
“Can I meet ‘er?”
“No, you can’t meet her. I’m not extending an invitation here. Just tell me where your condoms are.”
Saul grunts. “Bedside table. Take a few. I don’t want you wakin’ me up every time you’ve got a booty call.”
Bill yanks open the drawer and fumbles around in it, finding the box and shaking a few condoms into his hand.
“These aren’t those ones for guys with smaller dicks, are they?”
“Frak you, Adama. Get outta my face.” Saul turns over, his bed squeaking at the disturbance. Bill heads for the door.
“Keep it down and have a good time,” Saul says. “You’ve earned it.”
He walks into the bedroom and closes the door. She’s turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The light is soft, highlighting the pale tone of her skin and its contrast against her dress.
She’s sitting on his bed, leaning back on her hands, her legs slightly askew. Her eyes move over him as he stands in front of her and he feels his cock twitch in response.
“So,” she says quietly.
He takes a step toward her, just within reach of her foot. She taps his ankle with her toes and catches the hem of his jeans between them. “So,” he echoes.
Her smile is slight, encouraging. “You gonna come closer or what?”
Her foot nudges his bare calf under the leg of his jeans. Her voice is soft-not the brash, obnoxious tone she used to overpower the thumping music at the bar. She seems smaller here, less intimidating. More human, less caricature. One strap slides off her shoulder.
He runs his thumb over the back of his wedding band, over and over, the metal smooth and warm under his touch. He steps between her knees and looks down at her. His heart begins to thump harder in his chest. “Close enough?”
She nods, then sits up, her eyes never leaving his, despite her now close proximity to his groin. “Close enough,” she murmurs, her voice lower as her hand pushes over the bulge under his zipper. She runs her palm along the length of him and his breath catches. Her lips curl into a half smile that expresses her approval more than words ever could.
“I think... ” She pauses and pulls his zipper down, then flicks open the button. She slides his jeans down his thighs and they fall around his ankles. “I think you want me to suck you off, Bill. Is that what you want?”
He grits his teeth and sucks in a sharp breath as her fingers tease his hardening cock through the thin cotton of his boxer briefs. “What do you want?”
“A lot of things.”
“Me too.”
Her breath is hot through the fabric. He breathes out slowly.
“But right now... ” She gazes up at him again. There’s something haunted in her eyes as her mouth opens and presses against his hardness, her tongue soaking the cotton. The warm dampness that soon meets his skin makes his toes curl against the worn carpet on the floor. He fights to keep looking at her-he feels hypnotized by her and the movement of her mouth. Normally he feels like he’s the one in control at a moment like this, but there’s something about her that convinces him otherwise.
She hooks her thumbs into his briefs and carefully maneuvers them around his erection. They slide down his legs. He watches as she traces her fingernail over the small bull glyph tattooed on his right hip; he’d forgotten it was there.
“Tauron,” she says. “Were you Ha’la’tha?”
He laughs, feeling ridiculous with his cock bobbing along as she gives him an inquisitive look. “If you know anything about Ha’la’tha, you know not to ask.”
“You’re no fun.” She kisses the glyph and he opens his mouth to speak just as her mouth slips over him, the hum in the back of her throat sending an immediate tingle through his balls.
“Frak.” He has to look away, close his eyes, something, to try and compose himself. Her fingers circle around the base of his cock, tightening as she draws her lips back over him, sucking, releasing, taking him in again. He takes a deep, shaking breath, avoiding his hips’ instinctual thrust into the wet heat of her mouth.
His hands hang nervously at his sides until he tentatively reaches out to stroke her hair, soft, silky strands that slip through his fingers as she begins swirling her tongue around the sensitive head of his cock.
“You can,” she breathes, then begins to suck on him in earnest. He tangles his fingers into her hair immediately, allowing his hips to arch slightly into her. His palm cups the back of her head and he feels her hand slide up the back of his thigh to clutch his ass.
“Oh, gods,” he whispers.
She whimpers around him and he shivers at the slide of her tongue under his shaft. He thrusts jerkily against her lips and feels her fingernails dig into his skin, the mounting waves of pleasure through his cock making him realize he’d better slow it down. It’s been too long.
He backs off and she pulls away with a tilt of her head and a smirk. “You’re not done already, are you?”
“Haven’t even started.” He kicks his jeans and briefs off his legs and pulls his turtleneck over his head. “Get up there.”
“Yes, sir,” she purrs, sliding up on the unmade mess of his bed and lying back on his pillows. The dress she’s wearing has ridden up; as she spreads her legs slightly it skims the tops of her thighs, barely concealing her from his view.
He climbs over her body, even more turned on that he’s naked and she’s completely clothed. He leans into her, the smooth texture of her dress against his bare chest making him groan. He rubs his hardness against the warm, dampened fabric between her legs while she traces the muscles of his arms, flexing as he supports his weight.
She bites her lip and starts to writhe in rhythm with him as he teases her with his cock. She spreads her legs wider with a sigh. “Frak,” she breathes, digging her fingernails into the skin of his back. “You’re killing me here.”
He grazes his cock against her again and groans at the sensation that shoots up his spine. “Tell me you want it.”
He needs to feel wanted. He didn’t realize how badly he needed that until this moment.
He feels her reach between them and grab hold of him firmly, squeezing and pulling him, nearly uncomfortably, closer to her body. “Get me out of these panties and frak me.”
“Frak.” He gives her one more grind of his hips, just to make her pant. He rolls to her side, pushing her dress up her stomach and hooking his fingers into her panties. She helps him out and kicks them to the side.
He swipes the condom from the bedside table and starts to slip it on. It’s a tight fit and he grits his teeth. No more borrowing condoms from Saul, he resolves. He can’t help the groan of frustration at the pressure he feels as he manages to stretch it down the rest of his length.
His cock twitches when he notices her watching. He listens to the soft sound of her breath, anticipation thick in the air.
He slides his fingertips up and down her bare torso, feeling goose bumps rise, each swipe of his fingers dipping lower on her abdomen. She twists her hips, trying to tempt him to move his hand lower, but he resists, circling her midriff instead.
“You’re a tease,” she breathes, shivering at his touch.
“So are you.” It’s driving him as crazy as it seems to be driving her. He moves his feather-light fingertips to her inner thigh, his fingers searching out her heat.
She moans, her hand snarling tightly in the back of his hair. She gasps when his fingers enter her; he groans at the slick sensation of her clutching at him. He teases her slowly, thumb making her gasp, slow strokes drawing out another low moan. “Oh, my Gods, just get inside me. Frak me.”
He slides atop her and she yanks her dress over her head, her breasts trapped inside a pretty black bra that feels rough against his tongue and teeth. He sucks on the nipple that rises under the fabric as she sighs, tonguing it and feeling himself grow nearly painfully hard.
He doesn’t want to wait anymore, doesn’t want to think anymore.
He positions himself and slips inside her slowly, growling against her neck as he sinks into her.
“Oh, frak,” she pants, her legs curling tightly around his thighs. “Yes. Come on.”
He thrusts into her then. He surprises himself with the strength of it and she arches her back and meets his hips. Her arms wind around his neck and she clings to him as he begins rocking into her. Her bra chafes against the taut skin of his chest. He shivers and grits his teeth as he starts to pound into her faster, inciting a string of whimpers into his ear.
It feels so good. She’s tight around him and soft, so hot that he has to concentrate on holding back. The too-tight condom wrapped around his cock dulls some of the sensation, and for that he’s glad. He doesn’t want to come yet; it’s been too long since he felt like this.
He grunts and pulls away from her, sliding his arm under her lower back and prompting her to turn over. She flips over onto her belly, then starts to rise on her hands and knees. He grabs her wrists and pushes them up over her head, sending her back down onto her stomach.
“You like it like this?” she breathes, pushing her hips slightly upward. He parts her thighs with his own so that she’s spread wide as he holds her wrists in place.
“You tell me.” He nudges his cock against her again and she draws one leg higher, lifting her hips to get the right angle. He buries his face in her hair with a satisfied groan as he feels his cock slip into her heat again, seating himself inside her.
She arches her back into his chest as much as she can and he tightens his grip on her wrists. His thrusts are steady, slow and hard enough to make her cry out. He grinds himself into her, wanting to bury himself as deeply as he can.
“Good?” he asks. He knows it is.
She moans in response, squeezing her muscles around him and making him shudder. Her breathing turns ragged with every quickening thrust and she rocks her ass against his groin. He pounds into her until he can’t hold off any longer, biting down on her shoulder with one last hard thrust as he comes hard, his growl caught low in his throat.
I want you... I want you here, I want you-
“Gods,” she whimpers as he feels her body tense up under him. He can tell she’s close and he pulls out of her, shedding the condom. He slides down her body, pushing her forcefully onto her back and grunting as he forces her legs over his shoulders. His head is still hazy from his orgasm as he immediately swirls his tongue over her clit, closing his eyes and working her harder.
He’s not in this apartment where he doesn’t have a place; he imagines Carolanne, her body twisting on the sheets of their old bed, back before they used to have to pretend things were perfect.
He’s going to make her come.
He feels her clutch at his shoulders, scratching at him with her nails as her hips rise to his mouth. He groans at the taste of her, bittersweet and hot on his tongue as she moans in rhythm.
“Frak,” she finally cries out, twisting her hips despite his grip on them. He groans and greedily sucks on her, watching her move as she starts to come. She chokes out his name amid her moans, her heels slipping against his sweaty back.
He rests his head against the inside of her thigh as he feels her body’s aftershocks. Her legs fall apart, off of his back as she exudes a deep, long sigh of release.
“Come up here,” he hears her say. He feels brief confusion at the unfamiliarity of his lover’s voice. He opens his eyes.
It’s not her.
x x x x
She watches him as he lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. It should make him uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. The threadbare sheet is bunched around her waist and he resists the urge to trail his fingers up the soft curve of her spine. It seems too intimate of a gesture.
Her messy blonde curls nearly hide her face from him. “Tell me something about you that nobody knows.”
“Why?” he asks. He can still feel his body tingling, every sense intensified. He can hear the cars on the street below while he fights off the tempting seduction of sleep.
“Because I asked you to. Because you just frakked me.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Because I can tell you’re the kinda guy who keeps too many secrets.”
Maybe that was the problem all along. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Bill.” She sighs. “Make something up if you have to. I’m not gonna know. Is it too much to ask for a little post-coital conversation?”
“I’m not a real big talker.”
She shakes her head, then presses her cheek deeper into the pillow with a grin. “If you talk half as good as you frak, then I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”
He smiles, his eyelids heavy. “I hate Tauronese stew.”
Her laugh is sharp. “Okay. That is not an acceptable answer.”
“Why not? It’s something about me that nobody knows.” It’s a half-truth; his father always knew. When his grandmother made stew, he and his father used to take frequent after-dinner trips to Little Tauron to fill up on something more edible.
“That’s because nobody cares.”
He smiles. “Sure they do. My grandmother used to care.”
“Then your grandmother knew.”
“Yeah... ” He squeezes his eyes shut in realization. “Frak.”
He can hear the smug satisfaction in her voice. “So, again... tell me something about you that nobody knows. Not even dear old grandma.”
If only his grandmother were around to hear her say that. There’s something intriguing about this exchange; it feels precarious, but he can’t pin down why. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly along with his next words. “I kissed a boy when I was twelve.”
He looks at her just as an expression of fascinated curiosity spreads across her features. “That’s adorable.”
“It’s something.” He slides his hands across his belly, winding his fingers together.
“Did you like it?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
She doesn’t need to know any more than what he said. He’s learned to keep the most intimate details of his past where they belong. “It was awkward.”
He doesn’t do awkward well. He never has.
“Why’d you do it?”
“My Uncle Sam was gay. I wanted to know what it was like. And I guess I wondered if I was the same way. You know, because he was, and I spent a lot of time with him.”
She laughs; they’re hard, sharp peals of laughter that make him smile, a warm blush spreading over his cheeks. She buries her face in the pillow to muffle the sound.
“I was young. I didn’t know shit.”
She speaks into the pillow. “Nobody does when they’re young, Bill.”
He draws his fingers along his stomach, the circular pattern soothing on the taut skin covering his muscles. “It was a rough time.”
“Where did it happen?” She turns on her side and balls her fist in the sheet, pulling it up to cover her body. She’s smiling deviously.
“In my room. We were looking at comic books.”
“Comic books.”
“Yes, comic books.”
“And you just leaned over and... ”
“Yeah. I looked at him and just went for it. He must’ve thought I was frakkin’ nuts.”
She reaches out and her fingertips slide over his arm. “Aw. He was probably flattered.”
“No.” He pauses, remembering. “He pulled away and punched me square in the eye. Hurt like a bitch. Told me he wasn’t gay. I said I wasn’t either. I was mortified he’d tell someone, but I never got hell for it, so I guess he kept quiet. And I told my father I got into a fight at school to explain the shiner.”
“You get into a lot of fights as a kid, Ha’la’tha?”
“I won my share. And I never said I was Ha’la’tha, by the way.”
She rolls her eyes with a chuckle. “You didn’t want to tell your father you got it for coming onto your friend.”
“For kissing my friend,” he clarifies. “Things were rocky enough as it was. I didn’t need that in the mix.”
“What was rocky about it?”
He shifts and turns on his side to face her, despite the sudden strong urge to turn away. “What about you?” he asks.
She hums, her look pensive. “I’m not sure there’s anything about me that nobody else knows.”
He slides his arm under his pillow, watching her think. “There has to be something.”
“Maybe there isn’t,” she says. “Maybe I’m not as mysterious as you think I am.”
He chuckles. “I doubt that.”
He watches as her hand moves to his chest, her fingertips skating through the sparse hairs there. “Is this what you do every weekend? Go to the bar and pick up the most mysterious woman you can find and ravage her?”
“No,” he says. “It was a hard weekend.”
He doesn’t want to tell her why; letting her know that he’s injured will only make it seem like she just gave him a pity frak, and that’s the last thing he needs to feel right now.
“Ah.” She pats his chest. “You only pick up mysterious women on the hard weekends.”
“I haven’t picked up a woman in a while.” In more time than he’s willing to admit to her.
She glances at his hands; he knows she had to have seen his ring already, so he doesn’t feel the need to explain any further. “You didn’t answer my question. Tell me something about yourself.”
“You’re an evasive motherfrakker when you want to be.” She sighs deeply. “Okay. Well... I don’t normally do this.”
“One-night stands?”
“What else would I be talking about, frakking? Yeah. I don’t normally do one-night stands.”
“Me either.” He closes his eyes, indulging in the relief he feels. “You seemed pretty into it at the bar.”
“Just because a woman’s forward doesn’t mean she’s a slut.”
He’s not going to argue with her. He’s had his share of losing arguments with combative, beautiful women lately. “I just assumed you’d cast the net and I was the fish who got stuck.”
“No. There’s something more about you,” she says slowly, her head nodding a little like she’s thinking hard about her next words. “I felt like I needed to go home with you.”
“Okay, now that’s a line of bullshit.”
“Listen to me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. She pulls her hand away from his chest and clutches at the sheet, bunching it closer to her body. “I don’t do bullshit. I’m gonna tell it like it is.”
“I’m just not into this... ‘the fates led me to this’ thing. I don’t buy it. But thanks for trying to make me feel good about myself.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that,” she says. “I was being honest.”
”I appreciate your honesty.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind me asking what’s with the ring.”
For some reason, she’s intent on deconstructing him, piece by piece. But in his spent state, he’s starting to feel more trusting of her. “You need me to explain it to you?”
“Only if you want to.” She bats her eyelashes at him, a quirky smile on her face.
“I’m married.”
Her eyebrows rise. “No kidding. But not for much longer.”
“How do you know?” His gut begins to feel queasy. He’s not ready to talk about this with anyone. He can’t even admit it to himself. It hasn’t sunk in; he hasn’t let it.
“You were at the bar drinking by yourself and you live with another guy. There’s a duffel bag in the corner. And you frakked me like you hadn’t gotten some in at least a couple years.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” He closes his eyes as he blushes. He was too quick to answer that one. He’s sure she caught on.
“It’s been too long.” He hears a hint of sympathy in her voice.
“Did it seem like it’s been too long?”
She laughs. “You didn’t seem out of practice, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
He’s quiet; the flattery feels nice, but it’s no balm for the hurt that’s slowly simmering as they continue down this path of conversation.
“Besides, I don’t know why someone would give up this.” He feels her slide her hand over his hip and across his cock, causing a twinge of arousal at the base of it as she cups his half-hard flesh.
“Yeah?” he asks, opening his eyes to see if she’s as earnest as she sounds. She squeezes him and he feels himself slowly growing harder against her palm.
“You have a really nice cock.”
“What’s so nice about it?”
“You have to know.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes with sigh. He looks at her expectantly; she notices and grins. “It’s thick, not too long and”-she begins to stroke him slowly and a pant escapes his lips-“incredibly responsive.”
He represses a low groan at the pulse of pleasure he feels thrumming inside of him. Her satisfied laugh is low and anticipatory, and he thinks this must be what it’s like to be preyed upon.
It’s a good feeling.
“Mhmm,” she hums. She slides over to his side of the bed and, slinging a leg over his hips, sits upright, hovering over him. She leans over him to the bedside table, where she plucks up another condom and starts unwrapping it. “So why are you still wearing the ring?”
She doesn’t sound offended, more matter-of-fact, as she tosses the wrapper away. He runs his hands up her bare thighs and her sides as she reaches back to unfasten her bra. It falls loose and he pulls the straps down her arms, tossing it to the floor.
Cupping her breasts, he teases her nipples and she moans with a slight rock of her hips, grazing his erection with her heat. He shivers.
“I can’t take the ring off yet.”
She smiles halfheartedly at him, then puts a hand between them to start working the condom down over him, her fingers circling and squeezing him. He’s never seen a condom as sexy before, but the way she’s handling it is turning him on. He tries not to groan at the tightening sensation and the stroking of her fingers.
“Lucky for you, women like me see that ring as a challenge and not a deterrent,” she says.
He’s still working his palms against her; she’s got a great set of tits and it’s a shame he’s only seeing them now. She starts to pant softly and he feels her hips rocking more intently, his now-sheathed cock finally slipping against her folds, seeking entrance. “Is that why you came up to me?” he manages, though he’s having a hard time remembering what they’re referring to.
“No. Would you stop trying to make excuses for why I wanted to frak you? I can tell you’re not normally the kind of guy who’s insecure.” He feels her reach between them again and stroke him, her grip more firm now, and he huffs in anticipation.
She tilts her head and looks at him with a barely perceptible nod. “You’re letting her get to you.”
He feels his cheeks burning. “I don’t know.”
He grits his teeth as she moves atop him, the tip of his cock breaching her heat.
“Tell me you want this,” she says softly.
“Frak,” he grunts, his cock throbbing against her. He presses his hips upward and she lifts up to tease him, smiling. “I want it.”
She bites her lip, then slides down on his length, hot and smooth around him. Leaning over, she slips her hands under the back of his head, fingernails raking through his hair as she looks into his eyes. Her hair tickles his cheeks.
“Come on,” she whispers. “Show me.”
He thrusts deeply inside her, her head tilting back as her lips part with a gasp. His hands smooth over her ass and he grips her firmly as she begins to writhe in time with his movements. She whimpers with each smooth thrust and he groans as she leans down to press her mouth against his ear, their bodies hot and stuck together with sweat slowly forming between them.
She bears down on him, restricting the motion of his hips and making him acquiesce to her own gentle rocking motion, slow, long strokes that make his breath catch in his throat.
“You need this.” Her breath is hot against his cheek. “To be treated this way.”
He shivers as her muscles tighten around his cock.
I deserve this.
He slides his fingers up her back, pulling her closer to him. She twists her fingers tighter into his hair and he feels the sting of his scalp as she grips him, her hips working him harder.
He closes his eyes and listens to her breathing. She feels so good, so hot against him and around him. Focusing on the feel of her body, he barely notices when the first syllable of someone else’s name escapes his lips before he swallows the rest, pushing it back deep inside himself, where it belongs.
“It’s okay.” Her movement is rhythmic as her tongue runs around the shell of his ear. “You feel so good, Bill... so good inside me.”
He feels his balls tingling as his eyes prickle with hot tears. He feels like a frakkin’ idiot and the reality of what’s happening hits him as his orgasm does, spiraling in his head as the pleasure spirals deep inside him, underneath her as she moans appreciatively.
“The frak am I doing,” he breathes as she relaxes, the weight of her body settling upon him.
“You’re living, Bill.” Her lips are pressed against his ear. “You’re alive.”
Her chest rises and falls against his as they lay in silence. He feels her hair soft against the back of his hand and he slides his fingers through the tangled curls, caressing them. It’s then he hears the cars again outside the window, the whirring of the heater, the soft sound of her breath on his neck.
“Do you want me to go?” she asks, running a finger down his cheek and his shoulder. It lingers on his skin, tracing circles on his forearm. “I can. No big deal.”
He’s not sure what the right answer is or what the precedent has been for her in these situations, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Stay.”
He knows it’s only temporary solace; after tonight she’ll be gone and he can decide what he’s doing with the rest of his life. Maybe this was good; maybe it’s what he needed after all.
She rolls off him, landing on her back with a barely audible puff of breath. He pulls the sheet over them again and she tugs it up under her arms, across her breasts, shifting until she lets out a comfortable sigh. He slips the condom off his limp cock and it joins the first one on the floor next to the bed. Serves Saul right for not having a trash can in there.
They lay beside each other, looking up at the ceiling. Her fingers rest next to his, but he’s already miles away, thinking about everything the past few hours had helped him to forget.
“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”
He gasps; he didn’t mean to react so dramatically, and he blushes when he fully realizes his error. She’s right. He is a frakkin’ asshole.
“I’m sorry,” he says, turning his head to look at her. She’s grinning, still looking upward, like she can see stars instead of white stucco above their heads.
“Do you want to know it?”
“Yes.”
He’s not sure that he does, but it seems like the right thing to do.
Her eyes travel to his, her grin softening. It strangely sets him at ease. “Ellen.”
He smiles. His fingers find hers and grasp at them; she tucks his hand into her palm and squeezes it.
“Ellen,” he repeats softly, closing his eyes. He feels dizzy and suddenly exhausted. The day has been long and the alcohol has worn off, leaving his senses dull and his stomach unsteady.
“Thank you for the lovely evening, Ellen.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Her hand is clutching his and at the last moment before drifting off into sleep, he lets himself pretend it’s a more familiar hand, in a more familiar room, somewhere far away from this tiny room with a duffel bag in the corner that holds what’s left of his life.
/chapter three
Author: icedteainthebag
Word Count: 5,815
Rating: MA
Pairings: Bill Adama/Carolanne Adama, Bill Adama/Ellen Tigh
Summary: Unwinding the labyrinth.
Notes: tjonesy bought my services in the help_haiti auction and requested a story in which Bill and Ellen frakked. This is what happened. Thanks to her for inspiring me to write it and putting her foot up my ass to finish it. My love and overly affectionate praise go out to larsfarm77 and somadanne for the amazing betas.
Link to: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Bill keys in and lets her walk in first. He feels like he’s in college again as he watches her examine their surroundings. Saul’s left the hallway light on, which is about as considerate as he gets.
“You are such a guy,” she says, toeing the pile of boots under the table on which Saul’s tossed at least a week’s worth of mail and his car keys.
“I only live here.” He kicks off his boots and adds them to the pile. She leaves her shoes on as she picks up a letter, like it’s any of her business.
“Saul?” she asks. “Your name’s Saul Tigh?”
Her tone is loud and he glances down the hallway to Saul’s closed door. He doesn’t want her to wake him; it would be awkward to have to explain this.
His reaction is delayed, but he realizes then that they haven’t even exchanged names. He feels his cheeks flush with even more heat than already provided by the alcohol. “No. That’s my roommate. The guy I’m letting the room from.”
She chuckles once, tossing the letter back to the table. “Are you gonna tell me your name or you want me to make something up for you?”
“As much fun as that’d be, my name’s Bill.”
She smiles, pulling her hair behind her ear. “Bill. William?”
“Yes.”
“Your dad’s name?”
“My grandfather’s.” He watches her shed her coat and she hands it to him. He takes it and hangs it in the hall closet before taking a better look at her. The short black sheath dress hangs on her slender frame, thin spaghetti straps resting against the soft rise of her collarbone. He feels an urge to press his mouth against the ridge right under her neck, but resists.
“So,” she says, shifting her weight on her heels. “Your roommate, is he gone?”
“He’s sleeping.”
She nods, biting her lip. Then she tilts her head and narrows her eyes with a nod. “Let’s cut the crap, Bill. I’m not here for conversation. And I don’t think that’s why you brought me here.”
“I don’t kn-”
“It’s not.” She interrupts him, smiling. “So why don’t you just show me your room already?”
He feels his heartbeat quicken and he swallows dryly. “This way.”
He can’t believe he’s doing this; at the same time, maybe it’s the last self-destructive indulgence he needs to complete the cycle.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing hers, and she grasps at them with an affirming squeeze. He walks down the hallway and pushes open his door, wincing at the sharp squeak that increases in volume as he enters the room. He flicks on the light.
“This is it,” he says softly. “It’s not much. I’m kind of in a state of upheaval right now.”
He feels her press against his back and closes his eyes as her hands travel around his waist, then smooth down his hips to rest on either side of his groin.
“I don’t care,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against the nape of his neck.
I don’t care anymore, Bill.
He lets out a deeply held breath, pushing the air out until his lungs are completely empty. As he breathes in again, the scent of her fills his senses. Her breasts press firmly against his body as her tongue traces the tension-ridden muscle of his neck. She lets out a soft whimper that makes his cock tingle, arousal kindling deep in his belly.
“You do have a condom, right?”
His eyes open at the sudden jolt of realization that deflates his slowly hardening cock.
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Are you serious?” she asks, the low tone of her voice humming against his shirt.
“Hold on.” He feels like a frakkin’ idiot for not thinking of this before. He could have stopped by the drugstore. He hasn’t bought condoms in ages. “Let me... give me a few.”
She pulls away and he turns around to face her. “You don’t have any?” he asks.
“I told you,” she replies, “I’m not a whore.”
“Frak,” he groans through his teeth. “Hold on.”
“Holding,” she says, putting her hand on her hip.
He leaves her in the bedroom and walks down the hallway, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob of Saul’s room. So much for avoiding the awkward. He can’t really turn her away now.
Saul has to have something. He’s a single guy. A single guy who barhops as a part-time gig.
He pushes open the door. It also squeaks, making Bill’s humiliation grow more as he approaches his new roommate’s bed. A deep, loud snore only amplifies Bill’s guilt at waking Saul for such an occasion.
He’s never going to live this one down.
“Saul.”
Saul grumbles an incoherent response. His slight form seems massive bundled under his comforter.
“Saul. Where do you keep your condoms?”
That did it. Saul turns in his bed and Bill feels like even more of an idiot. “My what?”
“You heard me.”
“Why you need those?”
Bill runs his hand through his hair, sighing. “Why do you think?”
Saul chuckles. “Right. You suave frakker. Thought you were just goin’ out for a drink.”
“Yeah, well, so did I.”
“Can I meet ‘er?”
“No, you can’t meet her. I’m not extending an invitation here. Just tell me where your condoms are.”
Saul grunts. “Bedside table. Take a few. I don’t want you wakin’ me up every time you’ve got a booty call.”
Bill yanks open the drawer and fumbles around in it, finding the box and shaking a few condoms into his hand.
“These aren’t those ones for guys with smaller dicks, are they?”
“Frak you, Adama. Get outta my face.” Saul turns over, his bed squeaking at the disturbance. Bill heads for the door.
“Keep it down and have a good time,” Saul says. “You’ve earned it.”
He walks into the bedroom and closes the door. She’s turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The light is soft, highlighting the pale tone of her skin and its contrast against her dress.
She’s sitting on his bed, leaning back on her hands, her legs slightly askew. Her eyes move over him as he stands in front of her and he feels his cock twitch in response.
“So,” she says quietly.
He takes a step toward her, just within reach of her foot. She taps his ankle with her toes and catches the hem of his jeans between them. “So,” he echoes.
Her smile is slight, encouraging. “You gonna come closer or what?”
Her foot nudges his bare calf under the leg of his jeans. Her voice is soft-not the brash, obnoxious tone she used to overpower the thumping music at the bar. She seems smaller here, less intimidating. More human, less caricature. One strap slides off her shoulder.
He runs his thumb over the back of his wedding band, over and over, the metal smooth and warm under his touch. He steps between her knees and looks down at her. His heart begins to thump harder in his chest. “Close enough?”
She nods, then sits up, her eyes never leaving his, despite her now close proximity to his groin. “Close enough,” she murmurs, her voice lower as her hand pushes over the bulge under his zipper. She runs her palm along the length of him and his breath catches. Her lips curl into a half smile that expresses her approval more than words ever could.
“I think... ” She pauses and pulls his zipper down, then flicks open the button. She slides his jeans down his thighs and they fall around his ankles. “I think you want me to suck you off, Bill. Is that what you want?”
He grits his teeth and sucks in a sharp breath as her fingers tease his hardening cock through the thin cotton of his boxer briefs. “What do you want?”
“A lot of things.”
“Me too.”
Her breath is hot through the fabric. He breathes out slowly.
“But right now... ” She gazes up at him again. There’s something haunted in her eyes as her mouth opens and presses against his hardness, her tongue soaking the cotton. The warm dampness that soon meets his skin makes his toes curl against the worn carpet on the floor. He fights to keep looking at her-he feels hypnotized by her and the movement of her mouth. Normally he feels like he’s the one in control at a moment like this, but there’s something about her that convinces him otherwise.
She hooks her thumbs into his briefs and carefully maneuvers them around his erection. They slide down his legs. He watches as she traces her fingernail over the small bull glyph tattooed on his right hip; he’d forgotten it was there.
“Tauron,” she says. “Were you Ha’la’tha?”
He laughs, feeling ridiculous with his cock bobbing along as she gives him an inquisitive look. “If you know anything about Ha’la’tha, you know not to ask.”
“You’re no fun.” She kisses the glyph and he opens his mouth to speak just as her mouth slips over him, the hum in the back of her throat sending an immediate tingle through his balls.
“Frak.” He has to look away, close his eyes, something, to try and compose himself. Her fingers circle around the base of his cock, tightening as she draws her lips back over him, sucking, releasing, taking him in again. He takes a deep, shaking breath, avoiding his hips’ instinctual thrust into the wet heat of her mouth.
His hands hang nervously at his sides until he tentatively reaches out to stroke her hair, soft, silky strands that slip through his fingers as she begins swirling her tongue around the sensitive head of his cock.
“You can,” she breathes, then begins to suck on him in earnest. He tangles his fingers into her hair immediately, allowing his hips to arch slightly into her. His palm cups the back of her head and he feels her hand slide up the back of his thigh to clutch his ass.
“Oh, gods,” he whispers.
She whimpers around him and he shivers at the slide of her tongue under his shaft. He thrusts jerkily against her lips and feels her fingernails dig into his skin, the mounting waves of pleasure through his cock making him realize he’d better slow it down. It’s been too long.
He backs off and she pulls away with a tilt of her head and a smirk. “You’re not done already, are you?”
“Haven’t even started.” He kicks his jeans and briefs off his legs and pulls his turtleneck over his head. “Get up there.”
“Yes, sir,” she purrs, sliding up on the unmade mess of his bed and lying back on his pillows. The dress she’s wearing has ridden up; as she spreads her legs slightly it skims the tops of her thighs, barely concealing her from his view.
He climbs over her body, even more turned on that he’s naked and she’s completely clothed. He leans into her, the smooth texture of her dress against his bare chest making him groan. He rubs his hardness against the warm, dampened fabric between her legs while she traces the muscles of his arms, flexing as he supports his weight.
She bites her lip and starts to writhe in rhythm with him as he teases her with his cock. She spreads her legs wider with a sigh. “Frak,” she breathes, digging her fingernails into the skin of his back. “You’re killing me here.”
He grazes his cock against her again and groans at the sensation that shoots up his spine. “Tell me you want it.”
He needs to feel wanted. He didn’t realize how badly he needed that until this moment.
He feels her reach between them and grab hold of him firmly, squeezing and pulling him, nearly uncomfortably, closer to her body. “Get me out of these panties and frak me.”
“Frak.” He gives her one more grind of his hips, just to make her pant. He rolls to her side, pushing her dress up her stomach and hooking his fingers into her panties. She helps him out and kicks them to the side.
He swipes the condom from the bedside table and starts to slip it on. It’s a tight fit and he grits his teeth. No more borrowing condoms from Saul, he resolves. He can’t help the groan of frustration at the pressure he feels as he manages to stretch it down the rest of his length.
His cock twitches when he notices her watching. He listens to the soft sound of her breath, anticipation thick in the air.
He slides his fingertips up and down her bare torso, feeling goose bumps rise, each swipe of his fingers dipping lower on her abdomen. She twists her hips, trying to tempt him to move his hand lower, but he resists, circling her midriff instead.
“You’re a tease,” she breathes, shivering at his touch.
“So are you.” It’s driving him as crazy as it seems to be driving her. He moves his feather-light fingertips to her inner thigh, his fingers searching out her heat.
She moans, her hand snarling tightly in the back of his hair. She gasps when his fingers enter her; he groans at the slick sensation of her clutching at him. He teases her slowly, thumb making her gasp, slow strokes drawing out another low moan. “Oh, my Gods, just get inside me. Frak me.”
He slides atop her and she yanks her dress over her head, her breasts trapped inside a pretty black bra that feels rough against his tongue and teeth. He sucks on the nipple that rises under the fabric as she sighs, tonguing it and feeling himself grow nearly painfully hard.
He doesn’t want to wait anymore, doesn’t want to think anymore.
He positions himself and slips inside her slowly, growling against her neck as he sinks into her.
“Oh, frak,” she pants, her legs curling tightly around his thighs. “Yes. Come on.”
He thrusts into her then. He surprises himself with the strength of it and she arches her back and meets his hips. Her arms wind around his neck and she clings to him as he begins rocking into her. Her bra chafes against the taut skin of his chest. He shivers and grits his teeth as he starts to pound into her faster, inciting a string of whimpers into his ear.
It feels so good. She’s tight around him and soft, so hot that he has to concentrate on holding back. The too-tight condom wrapped around his cock dulls some of the sensation, and for that he’s glad. He doesn’t want to come yet; it’s been too long since he felt like this.
He grunts and pulls away from her, sliding his arm under her lower back and prompting her to turn over. She flips over onto her belly, then starts to rise on her hands and knees. He grabs her wrists and pushes them up over her head, sending her back down onto her stomach.
“You like it like this?” she breathes, pushing her hips slightly upward. He parts her thighs with his own so that she’s spread wide as he holds her wrists in place.
“You tell me.” He nudges his cock against her again and she draws one leg higher, lifting her hips to get the right angle. He buries his face in her hair with a satisfied groan as he feels his cock slip into her heat again, seating himself inside her.
She arches her back into his chest as much as she can and he tightens his grip on her wrists. His thrusts are steady, slow and hard enough to make her cry out. He grinds himself into her, wanting to bury himself as deeply as he can.
“Good?” he asks. He knows it is.
She moans in response, squeezing her muscles around him and making him shudder. Her breathing turns ragged with every quickening thrust and she rocks her ass against his groin. He pounds into her until he can’t hold off any longer, biting down on her shoulder with one last hard thrust as he comes hard, his growl caught low in his throat.
I want you... I want you here, I want you-
“Gods,” she whimpers as he feels her body tense up under him. He can tell she’s close and he pulls out of her, shedding the condom. He slides down her body, pushing her forcefully onto her back and grunting as he forces her legs over his shoulders. His head is still hazy from his orgasm as he immediately swirls his tongue over her clit, closing his eyes and working her harder.
He’s not in this apartment where he doesn’t have a place; he imagines Carolanne, her body twisting on the sheets of their old bed, back before they used to have to pretend things were perfect.
He’s going to make her come.
He feels her clutch at his shoulders, scratching at him with her nails as her hips rise to his mouth. He groans at the taste of her, bittersweet and hot on his tongue as she moans in rhythm.
“Frak,” she finally cries out, twisting her hips despite his grip on them. He groans and greedily sucks on her, watching her move as she starts to come. She chokes out his name amid her moans, her heels slipping against his sweaty back.
He rests his head against the inside of her thigh as he feels her body’s aftershocks. Her legs fall apart, off of his back as she exudes a deep, long sigh of release.
“Come up here,” he hears her say. He feels brief confusion at the unfamiliarity of his lover’s voice. He opens his eyes.
It’s not her.
x x x x
She watches him as he lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. It should make him uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. The threadbare sheet is bunched around her waist and he resists the urge to trail his fingers up the soft curve of her spine. It seems too intimate of a gesture.
Her messy blonde curls nearly hide her face from him. “Tell me something about you that nobody knows.”
“Why?” he asks. He can still feel his body tingling, every sense intensified. He can hear the cars on the street below while he fights off the tempting seduction of sleep.
“Because I asked you to. Because you just frakked me.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Because I can tell you’re the kinda guy who keeps too many secrets.”
Maybe that was the problem all along. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Bill.” She sighs. “Make something up if you have to. I’m not gonna know. Is it too much to ask for a little post-coital conversation?”
“I’m not a real big talker.”
She shakes her head, then presses her cheek deeper into the pillow with a grin. “If you talk half as good as you frak, then I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”
He smiles, his eyelids heavy. “I hate Tauronese stew.”
Her laugh is sharp. “Okay. That is not an acceptable answer.”
“Why not? It’s something about me that nobody knows.” It’s a half-truth; his father always knew. When his grandmother made stew, he and his father used to take frequent after-dinner trips to Little Tauron to fill up on something more edible.
“That’s because nobody cares.”
He smiles. “Sure they do. My grandmother used to care.”
“Then your grandmother knew.”
“Yeah... ” He squeezes his eyes shut in realization. “Frak.”
He can hear the smug satisfaction in her voice. “So, again... tell me something about you that nobody knows. Not even dear old grandma.”
If only his grandmother were around to hear her say that. There’s something intriguing about this exchange; it feels precarious, but he can’t pin down why. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly along with his next words. “I kissed a boy when I was twelve.”
He looks at her just as an expression of fascinated curiosity spreads across her features. “That’s adorable.”
“It’s something.” He slides his hands across his belly, winding his fingers together.
“Did you like it?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
She doesn’t need to know any more than what he said. He’s learned to keep the most intimate details of his past where they belong. “It was awkward.”
He doesn’t do awkward well. He never has.
“Why’d you do it?”
“My Uncle Sam was gay. I wanted to know what it was like. And I guess I wondered if I was the same way. You know, because he was, and I spent a lot of time with him.”
She laughs; they’re hard, sharp peals of laughter that make him smile, a warm blush spreading over his cheeks. She buries her face in the pillow to muffle the sound.
“I was young. I didn’t know shit.”
She speaks into the pillow. “Nobody does when they’re young, Bill.”
He draws his fingers along his stomach, the circular pattern soothing on the taut skin covering his muscles. “It was a rough time.”
“Where did it happen?” She turns on her side and balls her fist in the sheet, pulling it up to cover her body. She’s smiling deviously.
“In my room. We were looking at comic books.”
“Comic books.”
“Yes, comic books.”
“And you just leaned over and... ”
“Yeah. I looked at him and just went for it. He must’ve thought I was frakkin’ nuts.”
She reaches out and her fingertips slide over his arm. “Aw. He was probably flattered.”
“No.” He pauses, remembering. “He pulled away and punched me square in the eye. Hurt like a bitch. Told me he wasn’t gay. I said I wasn’t either. I was mortified he’d tell someone, but I never got hell for it, so I guess he kept quiet. And I told my father I got into a fight at school to explain the shiner.”
“You get into a lot of fights as a kid, Ha’la’tha?”
“I won my share. And I never said I was Ha’la’tha, by the way.”
She rolls her eyes with a chuckle. “You didn’t want to tell your father you got it for coming onto your friend.”
“For kissing my friend,” he clarifies. “Things were rocky enough as it was. I didn’t need that in the mix.”
“What was rocky about it?”
He shifts and turns on his side to face her, despite the sudden strong urge to turn away. “What about you?” he asks.
She hums, her look pensive. “I’m not sure there’s anything about me that nobody else knows.”
He slides his arm under his pillow, watching her think. “There has to be something.”
“Maybe there isn’t,” she says. “Maybe I’m not as mysterious as you think I am.”
He chuckles. “I doubt that.”
He watches as her hand moves to his chest, her fingertips skating through the sparse hairs there. “Is this what you do every weekend? Go to the bar and pick up the most mysterious woman you can find and ravage her?”
“No,” he says. “It was a hard weekend.”
He doesn’t want to tell her why; letting her know that he’s injured will only make it seem like she just gave him a pity frak, and that’s the last thing he needs to feel right now.
“Ah.” She pats his chest. “You only pick up mysterious women on the hard weekends.”
“I haven’t picked up a woman in a while.” In more time than he’s willing to admit to her.
She glances at his hands; he knows she had to have seen his ring already, so he doesn’t feel the need to explain any further. “You didn’t answer my question. Tell me something about yourself.”
“You’re an evasive motherfrakker when you want to be.” She sighs deeply. “Okay. Well... I don’t normally do this.”
“One-night stands?”
“What else would I be talking about, frakking? Yeah. I don’t normally do one-night stands.”
“Me either.” He closes his eyes, indulging in the relief he feels. “You seemed pretty into it at the bar.”
“Just because a woman’s forward doesn’t mean she’s a slut.”
He’s not going to argue with her. He’s had his share of losing arguments with combative, beautiful women lately. “I just assumed you’d cast the net and I was the fish who got stuck.”
“No. There’s something more about you,” she says slowly, her head nodding a little like she’s thinking hard about her next words. “I felt like I needed to go home with you.”
“Okay, now that’s a line of bullshit.”
“Listen to me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. She pulls her hand away from his chest and clutches at the sheet, bunching it closer to her body. “I don’t do bullshit. I’m gonna tell it like it is.”
“I’m just not into this... ‘the fates led me to this’ thing. I don’t buy it. But thanks for trying to make me feel good about myself.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that,” she says. “I was being honest.”
”I appreciate your honesty.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind me asking what’s with the ring.”
For some reason, she’s intent on deconstructing him, piece by piece. But in his spent state, he’s starting to feel more trusting of her. “You need me to explain it to you?”
“Only if you want to.” She bats her eyelashes at him, a quirky smile on her face.
“I’m married.”
Her eyebrows rise. “No kidding. But not for much longer.”
“How do you know?” His gut begins to feel queasy. He’s not ready to talk about this with anyone. He can’t even admit it to himself. It hasn’t sunk in; he hasn’t let it.
“You were at the bar drinking by yourself and you live with another guy. There’s a duffel bag in the corner. And you frakked me like you hadn’t gotten some in at least a couple years.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” He closes his eyes as he blushes. He was too quick to answer that one. He’s sure she caught on.
“It’s been too long.” He hears a hint of sympathy in her voice.
“Did it seem like it’s been too long?”
She laughs. “You didn’t seem out of practice, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
He’s quiet; the flattery feels nice, but it’s no balm for the hurt that’s slowly simmering as they continue down this path of conversation.
“Besides, I don’t know why someone would give up this.” He feels her slide her hand over his hip and across his cock, causing a twinge of arousal at the base of it as she cups his half-hard flesh.
“Yeah?” he asks, opening his eyes to see if she’s as earnest as she sounds. She squeezes him and he feels himself slowly growing harder against her palm.
“You have a really nice cock.”
“What’s so nice about it?”
“You have to know.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes with sigh. He looks at her expectantly; she notices and grins. “It’s thick, not too long and”-she begins to stroke him slowly and a pant escapes his lips-“incredibly responsive.”
He represses a low groan at the pulse of pleasure he feels thrumming inside of him. Her satisfied laugh is low and anticipatory, and he thinks this must be what it’s like to be preyed upon.
It’s a good feeling.
“Mhmm,” she hums. She slides over to his side of the bed and, slinging a leg over his hips, sits upright, hovering over him. She leans over him to the bedside table, where she plucks up another condom and starts unwrapping it. “So why are you still wearing the ring?”
She doesn’t sound offended, more matter-of-fact, as she tosses the wrapper away. He runs his hands up her bare thighs and her sides as she reaches back to unfasten her bra. It falls loose and he pulls the straps down her arms, tossing it to the floor.
Cupping her breasts, he teases her nipples and she moans with a slight rock of her hips, grazing his erection with her heat. He shivers.
“I can’t take the ring off yet.”
She smiles halfheartedly at him, then puts a hand between them to start working the condom down over him, her fingers circling and squeezing him. He’s never seen a condom as sexy before, but the way she’s handling it is turning him on. He tries not to groan at the tightening sensation and the stroking of her fingers.
“Lucky for you, women like me see that ring as a challenge and not a deterrent,” she says.
He’s still working his palms against her; she’s got a great set of tits and it’s a shame he’s only seeing them now. She starts to pant softly and he feels her hips rocking more intently, his now-sheathed cock finally slipping against her folds, seeking entrance. “Is that why you came up to me?” he manages, though he’s having a hard time remembering what they’re referring to.
“No. Would you stop trying to make excuses for why I wanted to frak you? I can tell you’re not normally the kind of guy who’s insecure.” He feels her reach between them again and stroke him, her grip more firm now, and he huffs in anticipation.
She tilts her head and looks at him with a barely perceptible nod. “You’re letting her get to you.”
He feels his cheeks burning. “I don’t know.”
He grits his teeth as she moves atop him, the tip of his cock breaching her heat.
“Tell me you want this,” she says softly.
“Frak,” he grunts, his cock throbbing against her. He presses his hips upward and she lifts up to tease him, smiling. “I want it.”
She bites her lip, then slides down on his length, hot and smooth around him. Leaning over, she slips her hands under the back of his head, fingernails raking through his hair as she looks into his eyes. Her hair tickles his cheeks.
“Come on,” she whispers. “Show me.”
He thrusts deeply inside her, her head tilting back as her lips part with a gasp. His hands smooth over her ass and he grips her firmly as she begins to writhe in time with his movements. She whimpers with each smooth thrust and he groans as she leans down to press her mouth against his ear, their bodies hot and stuck together with sweat slowly forming between them.
She bears down on him, restricting the motion of his hips and making him acquiesce to her own gentle rocking motion, slow, long strokes that make his breath catch in his throat.
“You need this.” Her breath is hot against his cheek. “To be treated this way.”
He shivers as her muscles tighten around his cock.
I deserve this.
He slides his fingers up her back, pulling her closer to him. She twists her fingers tighter into his hair and he feels the sting of his scalp as she grips him, her hips working him harder.
He closes his eyes and listens to her breathing. She feels so good, so hot against him and around him. Focusing on the feel of her body, he barely notices when the first syllable of someone else’s name escapes his lips before he swallows the rest, pushing it back deep inside himself, where it belongs.
“It’s okay.” Her movement is rhythmic as her tongue runs around the shell of his ear. “You feel so good, Bill... so good inside me.”
He feels his balls tingling as his eyes prickle with hot tears. He feels like a frakkin’ idiot and the reality of what’s happening hits him as his orgasm does, spiraling in his head as the pleasure spirals deep inside him, underneath her as she moans appreciatively.
“The frak am I doing,” he breathes as she relaxes, the weight of her body settling upon him.
“You’re living, Bill.” Her lips are pressed against his ear. “You’re alive.”
Her chest rises and falls against his as they lay in silence. He feels her hair soft against the back of his hand and he slides his fingers through the tangled curls, caressing them. It’s then he hears the cars again outside the window, the whirring of the heater, the soft sound of her breath on his neck.
“Do you want me to go?” she asks, running a finger down his cheek and his shoulder. It lingers on his skin, tracing circles on his forearm. “I can. No big deal.”
He’s not sure what the right answer is or what the precedent has been for her in these situations, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Stay.”
He knows it’s only temporary solace; after tonight she’ll be gone and he can decide what he’s doing with the rest of his life. Maybe this was good; maybe it’s what he needed after all.
She rolls off him, landing on her back with a barely audible puff of breath. He pulls the sheet over them again and she tugs it up under her arms, across her breasts, shifting until she lets out a comfortable sigh. He slips the condom off his limp cock and it joins the first one on the floor next to the bed. Serves Saul right for not having a trash can in there.
They lay beside each other, looking up at the ceiling. Her fingers rest next to his, but he’s already miles away, thinking about everything the past few hours had helped him to forget.
“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”
He gasps; he didn’t mean to react so dramatically, and he blushes when he fully realizes his error. She’s right. He is a frakkin’ asshole.
“I’m sorry,” he says, turning his head to look at her. She’s grinning, still looking upward, like she can see stars instead of white stucco above their heads.
“Do you want to know it?”
“Yes.”
He’s not sure that he does, but it seems like the right thing to do.
Her eyes travel to his, her grin softening. It strangely sets him at ease. “Ellen.”
He smiles. His fingers find hers and grasp at them; she tucks his hand into her palm and squeezes it.
“Ellen,” he repeats softly, closing his eyes. He feels dizzy and suddenly exhausted. The day has been long and the alcohol has worn off, leaving his senses dull and his stomach unsteady.
“Thank you for the lovely evening, Ellen.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Her hand is clutching his and at the last moment before drifting off into sleep, he lets himself pretend it’s a more familiar hand, in a more familiar room, somewhere far away from this tiny room with a duffel bag in the corner that holds what’s left of his life.
/chapter three