The Magic of the New Caprican Taco Truck
Title: The Magic of the New Caprican Taco Truck
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairing: Laura/Bill
Rating: MA
Word Count: 1,304
Summary: New Caprica's got some awesome tacos.
Notes: For the 5th bsg_pornbattle. I couldn't keep it short. I tried. Damn it.
Prompts: New Caprican taco truck, horny, falling out of her top, hard and fast, fleet tanks, so wet, tent.
x x x x
New Caprica was not known for its cuisine... save one item.
It was Founders' Day and Bill and Laura were sitting on the steps of the wooden dance floor, drinking more of the rotgut Baltar had commissioned for the event. Bill had lost track of the number of glasses they'd consumed, but he was fairly sure they'd smoked only two joints. So far.
Life was pretty good; it was a fine day with nice weather and Laura was giggly and flirty, and he was loose and free.
And high. Definitely high.
A military truck rolled by them and they watched, transfixed, more than they normally would have been in unaltered states.
"The New Caprican taco truck," Bill said finally, taking another swig from his nearly empty cup.
"Excuse me?" Laura said, eyeing him.
The truck slowed down near a crowd surrounding a band of rowdy musicians playing makeshift instruments. Before it had even stopped, the crowd had begun to approach the truck and cheers and yelps of glee were audible.
"Some guys converted that..." Bill explained, "...into a taco truck."
"They make tacos in a truck." Laura's vision strayed to the crowd and the two guys passing down tacos from the opening in the back. "Tacos."
"In a truck," Bill answered.
"Are they any good?" she asked.
"Never tried one." Bill chuckled and glanced at her, his smile widening. "Heard from a few of my guys that they are."
Laura noticed and nudged her shoulder against his. "Is there something you're not telling me about these tacos?"
Bill ran his hand through his hair, raising his eyebrow. "Well, I heard that the reason they're so popular is because of their secret ingredient."
Laura laughed with a low, knowing hum, and tilted her head as she smiled. "And what is that?"
"Dunno," he said. "It's secret."
"Okay," she said, drawing the word out. "Then what does it do?"
Bill leaned back on his elbows and tilted his face to the sun, closing his eyes. "Heard it's an aphrodisiac."
"Oh, really."
"Just what I heard."
Bill then heard Laura shift and felt the immediate absence of her presence by his side. He opened his eyes and watched her bee lining toward the truck.
He opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, but realized it was completely obvious what her intentions were. This was one mission he would not abort.
Laura joined the line, her red skirt and wrap standing out even more against the crowd as she made her way to the back of the truck. One taco maker handed her a paper-wrapped bundle and she walked back to Bill slowly, her smile wide and her hands full.
"How many did you get?" Bill asked, eyeing the bundle as she sat next to him again.
"I'm frakkin' starving," she replied, unwrapping the tacos. Steam poured out of the wrapper and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "They smell so good and they are so hot."
"Bet they taste even better," he said, watching the steam rise from the tacos and not neglecting to realize that behind this delicious treat, a hint of Laura's cleavage was exposed over the edge of her tank top.
"Mmhmm," she murmured, handing him two, generously filled with wild game meat and New Caprican potatoes. "Let's see how good they really are."
They took their first bites at the same time and both released low groans of pleasure at the complex mixture of textures, flavors and spice that they encountered.
"Frak," Laura said, her mouth half-full. She took another bite, as did he.
"Amazing," Bill grunted, shoving the rest of the taco in his mouth and swirling his tongue around to experience it more fully. He felt a twinge deep in his groin at that moment and felt his skin flush inexplicably. He looked at Laura, who was blinking and panting through parted lips, as if she too was feeling some sort of rush from the tacos. They both ate their second taco quickly; Bill suddenly felt like he couldn't get enough and he suddenly couldn't get enough of staring at the ex-President, her chest now heaving.
He became aware of his swelling erection at the moment Laura met his gaze with an obviously flustered expression.
"My gods," she breathed.
"My tent," he muttered.
They nearly ran there, her hand clutching his and tugging him on. Bill felt an urgency like he'd never felt before. There was no way he was going to let this moment pass.
He closed the tent flaps behind him and turned to see Laura had already shed her wrap. She grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket and pulled him close, her mouth meeting his and her tongue darting along his lower lip as they began frantically kissing. He deepened their kiss and she tasted of the spice they'd just consumed--rich, complex, and tingling with heat.
Laura yanked his jacket down his arms and went for his zipper. "Gods, I need you now. Right now."
"Frak yeah," was all he could say, his mind fuzzy with alcohol and whatever mysterious ingredient was fueling their libidos. "Tacos."
"Damn straight." She grunted as she yanked his zipper down and his trousers fell. He kicked them off and wrenched her skirt from her hips in one swoop, running his hands back up the length of her bare legs, hot and silky smooth under his palms. Her hands slipped down the front of his boxers and he groaned when she encircled his pulsing cock with her fingers, squeezing as her tongue and teeth teased his neck.
Bill slid his hands down the back of her underwear and cupped her ass. She moaned in approval and practically dragged him to his cot, pulling him down on top of her and tightly wrapping her legs around his thighs.
He thrust and hissed a breath at the friction of his clothed cock against the wet heat of her panties. "Underwear," he growled.
"Frak," Laura breathed, her body arching under him. She ground her hips into him and balled up his tanks in her fists around his shoulders. "Bill, work around it."
If there was any time when Bill Adama needed to utilize the self-mastery of his agile hands, it was this moment.
He reached between them and forced his cock out of the slit in his boxers, then snagged the crotch of her panties with his fingers and jerked it aside. His knuckles grazed her flesh and he bit back a cry. Her cry was more audible and sent searing heat through his abdomen.
"You're so wet," he groaned, his fist around his length.
"The tacos," she explained, panting, "And you. Of course."
He pushed against her then and she twisted her hips to allow him to slip deep inside her. They both moaned indulgently but Laura took no pause as she began thrusting her hips up against him.
"Hard, come on," she begged, her eyes fluttering shut. Bill seated his elbows above her shoulders and obliged willingly because gods be damned if he didn't feel the same way. They were sweating already, still in their tanks and underwear, grinding against each other and kissing furiously, breaking only to catch their breath.
"Gonna come," Bill breathed.
"Gods, me too. Sweet Asses of Kobol, these frakkin'--"
Laura cried out as she began to come under the friction of Bill's pelvis against her clit. Bill was soon to follow, the sight and sound of her too much for him to take.
Despite its brevity, it was undoubtedly the best sexual experience either of them had ever had in a tent.
"Frak, I'm sorry, too soon," Bill said softly, resting his sweaty forehead against her cheek.
"Blame the tacos," she said, her voice airy. "We need to eat more slowly next time."
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairing: Laura/Bill
Rating: MA
Word Count: 1,304
Summary: New Caprica's got some awesome tacos.
Notes: For the 5th bsg_pornbattle. I couldn't keep it short. I tried. Damn it.
Prompts: New Caprican taco truck, horny, falling out of her top, hard and fast, fleet tanks, so wet, tent.
x x x x
New Caprica was not known for its cuisine... save one item.
It was Founders' Day and Bill and Laura were sitting on the steps of the wooden dance floor, drinking more of the rotgut Baltar had commissioned for the event. Bill had lost track of the number of glasses they'd consumed, but he was fairly sure they'd smoked only two joints. So far.
Life was pretty good; it was a fine day with nice weather and Laura was giggly and flirty, and he was loose and free.
And high. Definitely high.
A military truck rolled by them and they watched, transfixed, more than they normally would have been in unaltered states.
"The New Caprican taco truck," Bill said finally, taking another swig from his nearly empty cup.
"Excuse me?" Laura said, eyeing him.
The truck slowed down near a crowd surrounding a band of rowdy musicians playing makeshift instruments. Before it had even stopped, the crowd had begun to approach the truck and cheers and yelps of glee were audible.
"Some guys converted that..." Bill explained, "...into a taco truck."
"They make tacos in a truck." Laura's vision strayed to the crowd and the two guys passing down tacos from the opening in the back. "Tacos."
"In a truck," Bill answered.
"Are they any good?" she asked.
"Never tried one." Bill chuckled and glanced at her, his smile widening. "Heard from a few of my guys that they are."
Laura noticed and nudged her shoulder against his. "Is there something you're not telling me about these tacos?"
Bill ran his hand through his hair, raising his eyebrow. "Well, I heard that the reason they're so popular is because of their secret ingredient."
Laura laughed with a low, knowing hum, and tilted her head as she smiled. "And what is that?"
"Dunno," he said. "It's secret."
"Okay," she said, drawing the word out. "Then what does it do?"
Bill leaned back on his elbows and tilted his face to the sun, closing his eyes. "Heard it's an aphrodisiac."
"Oh, really."
"Just what I heard."
Bill then heard Laura shift and felt the immediate absence of her presence by his side. He opened his eyes and watched her bee lining toward the truck.
He opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, but realized it was completely obvious what her intentions were. This was one mission he would not abort.
Laura joined the line, her red skirt and wrap standing out even more against the crowd as she made her way to the back of the truck. One taco maker handed her a paper-wrapped bundle and she walked back to Bill slowly, her smile wide and her hands full.
"How many did you get?" Bill asked, eyeing the bundle as she sat next to him again.
"I'm frakkin' starving," she replied, unwrapping the tacos. Steam poured out of the wrapper and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "They smell so good and they are so hot."
"Bet they taste even better," he said, watching the steam rise from the tacos and not neglecting to realize that behind this delicious treat, a hint of Laura's cleavage was exposed over the edge of her tank top.
"Mmhmm," she murmured, handing him two, generously filled with wild game meat and New Caprican potatoes. "Let's see how good they really are."
They took their first bites at the same time and both released low groans of pleasure at the complex mixture of textures, flavors and spice that they encountered.
"Frak," Laura said, her mouth half-full. She took another bite, as did he.
"Amazing," Bill grunted, shoving the rest of the taco in his mouth and swirling his tongue around to experience it more fully. He felt a twinge deep in his groin at that moment and felt his skin flush inexplicably. He looked at Laura, who was blinking and panting through parted lips, as if she too was feeling some sort of rush from the tacos. They both ate their second taco quickly; Bill suddenly felt like he couldn't get enough and he suddenly couldn't get enough of staring at the ex-President, her chest now heaving.
He became aware of his swelling erection at the moment Laura met his gaze with an obviously flustered expression.
"My gods," she breathed.
"My tent," he muttered.
They nearly ran there, her hand clutching his and tugging him on. Bill felt an urgency like he'd never felt before. There was no way he was going to let this moment pass.
He closed the tent flaps behind him and turned to see Laura had already shed her wrap. She grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket and pulled him close, her mouth meeting his and her tongue darting along his lower lip as they began frantically kissing. He deepened their kiss and she tasted of the spice they'd just consumed--rich, complex, and tingling with heat.
Laura yanked his jacket down his arms and went for his zipper. "Gods, I need you now. Right now."
"Frak yeah," was all he could say, his mind fuzzy with alcohol and whatever mysterious ingredient was fueling their libidos. "Tacos."
"Damn straight." She grunted as she yanked his zipper down and his trousers fell. He kicked them off and wrenched her skirt from her hips in one swoop, running his hands back up the length of her bare legs, hot and silky smooth under his palms. Her hands slipped down the front of his boxers and he groaned when she encircled his pulsing cock with her fingers, squeezing as her tongue and teeth teased his neck.
Bill slid his hands down the back of her underwear and cupped her ass. She moaned in approval and practically dragged him to his cot, pulling him down on top of her and tightly wrapping her legs around his thighs.
He thrust and hissed a breath at the friction of his clothed cock against the wet heat of her panties. "Underwear," he growled.
"Frak," Laura breathed, her body arching under him. She ground her hips into him and balled up his tanks in her fists around his shoulders. "Bill, work around it."
If there was any time when Bill Adama needed to utilize the self-mastery of his agile hands, it was this moment.
He reached between them and forced his cock out of the slit in his boxers, then snagged the crotch of her panties with his fingers and jerked it aside. His knuckles grazed her flesh and he bit back a cry. Her cry was more audible and sent searing heat through his abdomen.
"You're so wet," he groaned, his fist around his length.
"The tacos," she explained, panting, "And you. Of course."
He pushed against her then and she twisted her hips to allow him to slip deep inside her. They both moaned indulgently but Laura took no pause as she began thrusting her hips up against him.
"Hard, come on," she begged, her eyes fluttering shut. Bill seated his elbows above her shoulders and obliged willingly because gods be damned if he didn't feel the same way. They were sweating already, still in their tanks and underwear, grinding against each other and kissing furiously, breaking only to catch their breath.
"Gonna come," Bill breathed.
"Gods, me too. Sweet Asses of Kobol, these frakkin'--"
Laura cried out as she began to come under the friction of Bill's pelvis against her clit. Bill was soon to follow, the sight and sound of her too much for him to take.
Despite its brevity, it was undoubtedly the best sexual experience either of them had ever had in a tent.
"Frak, I'm sorry, too soon," Bill said softly, resting his sweaty forehead against her cheek.
"Blame the tacos," she said, her voice airy. "We need to eat more slowly next time."