fic: Observation
Title: Observation
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: MA
Summary Bill and Laura capture what they can while they can.
Notes: Written for the inaugural makebillhappy challenge. Congrats to all of the participants and winners! Thanks to tjonesy and somadanne for the quick and insightful betas.
The observation deck is empty as Laura leads him in, her hand tucked into his. Bill regards simple things like holding her hand with such significance and reverence, especially in the few months since the return from New Caprica. Given how many times he'd almost lost her and what unspeakable reality their future together held, he had embraced his prior tendency to appreciate the small things.
He was glad she appreciated them too.
She ends up sitting in his lap, balanced so perfectly on his thighs, her skirt riding up a few inches as she looks down at him. She pushes her hair back with a laugh, that beautiful hair that was always getting in her eyes.
"We waited too long to do this," she says, her voice teasing.
He hears himself hum in agreement, his hands finding the curve of her ass like they've never left.
"That's your response?" She leans in and kisses each of his cheeks. It's an intimate gesture that makes him blush, even now. "Hmmm?"
Yes, it was the small things with her-the heated press of her kisses onto his skin. Her lips move to his nose and kiss it lightly, then his forehead, kissing him everywhere and finding her way to his mouth in the lengthiest journey imaginable.
"We haven't had a chance until now," he murmurs against her lips as they brush together, feather light.
"Because of our responsibilities."
"Yes." He captures her lip with his teeth, tugging and letting go. "And other things."
There's a silence as she sits back on his knees. He can see her fingers plucking at the buttons of her blouse from the top down. Her skin seems surprisingly pale in this light, the room illuminated only by the stars slowly passing by the large panes of glass surrounding them. It's then she pulls her blouse off her shoulders and he touches her bare back, trailing his fingers softly because though he'd touched her before, down on that planet, everything felt so new.
He remembers her toned muscles softened slightly by age and the slight mound of her tummy under the waist of her skirt. He loves to tickle it lightly with his fingers. Her breasts fit so well into each of his hands and she dips her head to kiss him more deeply.
The sound of her breath is deep and even. Peaceful.
He bucks up against her, desperate for friction as he grows harder, his longing for her undeniable and insistent. Her legs spread more, the heat of her pressing against his undulating hips. He hears them both gasp at the same time, hers punctuated by a soft whimper. Her arm on his shoulder, her hand sliding through the back of his hair and pulling him closer to her as she grinds down against him, her movements quickly growing more frantic.
"Gods, Laura," he says, his eyes closed, pleasure reverberating within him.
"I want you." Her voice is always surprisingly resolute when she says these things to him. It sends a thrill down his spine. "Gods, I want you."
His hand shifts to the warmth between them, his fingers nudging aside her panties as he begins to stroke the wetness he knows he'll find there. She whispers an affirmation to him, tells him to keep going, tells him to touch her and to get inside of her, and there is nothing he wants more in this world right now than to do that. Being inside her is more than comfort-it's a comfort gained amid so many things lost.
They never stopped losing, the both of them.
He craves it now. He wants her heat clutching at his fingers and he wants to see the arc of her neck as her head falls back, riding his hand as he cups her sex, his other hand steady on her hip.
She makes him feel like a man again-not just a title, not just a soldier or a warrior.
His heartbeat quickens as his hand moves faster, stroking, his palm hot and wet. He hears the noise she always makes when she's growing impatient, a hybrid moan of frustration and pleasure. "Bill, please."
"Please what?"
He grins and can't help but laugh at the image of her in his lap, panting and disheveled, and the gleam in her eye at his teasing.
She grabs his wrist and withdraws him, then gives his fingers a lengthy suck-he feels a jolt of arousal heighten his senses at that-and then works her hand between them to free him from the button and zipper of his trousers.
"This," she says. "I'm going to frak you like you've never been frakked before."
She didn't tell him she was going to say that, so it had come as a surprise. It made him crazy.
Squeezing his cock, the feeling of entering her is so intense he has to take deep breaths to keep himself from losing it. Not just yet, he tells himself. Make this last. You won't have many more chances to feel this way.
"I want to lose myself in you." She presses her forehead against his and wraps her arms around his neck. She's so close that he wants to feel her breath again against his cheek. "I don't want to remember who I am any more. You know you want it too, Bill. Let's give that to each other."
It was astounding to him how similar their thought processes were. There was nothing he'd wanted more for the past years than to become obsolete.
It makes him want to cry, but he won't. Not now.
Her movements are fluid as she rides him slowly. She's graceful, the shadows moving across her body, her sounds and his sounds commingled as this moment becomes just the two of them, alone. There are no people to appease or ships to run. There are no battles to be fought, won, or lost.
He reacts to her, moving in tandem with her body. She gasps when he holds her hips down. He presses into her, their kisses long and deep and only breaking for much-needed breath.
"Laura, I need you," he murmurs to the dark.
"I'm here," she says. "Right here."
His emotions overwhelm him as he comes, pinpricks of colors dotting his vision of her.
He's still alone, though it doesn't hurt as badly.
It had been her idea. It was something he wouldn't ever have thought of on his own. But she had brought him to the observation deck and showed him the digital audio recorder with a smile that was half amused and half wistful.
"I want you to have something to remember me by," she began. She fiddled with the recorder's buttons and stared at her hands for a very long time, then met his gaze with tears in her eyes. "I don't know. I know it's a funny idea, but I know that if you passed on, I would want to have something where… where I could hear your voice and remember."
He had pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
It helped. It took him months after her death to get to the point when he remembered the recorder still existed, packed away in one of the few boxes he'd retained from Galactica before they sent it into the sun. He once had closets full of memories packed in cardboard, but had realized not very long ago that the things he deemed most important were better stored in his head. There wasn't a lot of room to store such things in this mountaintop cabin he'd built. Anything related to that past seemed like a lifetime away.
Everything but her.
She'd pressed the recorder into his hand that night and turned her back to him, walking over to the glass and pressing her hand against it.
So many stars.
In the cabin, he'd found the recorder and placed it on the empty side of his bed. He let it lay there for days; he knew he'd never be able to find new batteries. Once they were dead, that was it-the recorder would be gone too.
He'd waited days. Then one day, late in the evening, when there was no longer any alcohol to numb the pain or the wanting, it was the perfect time. And then he had lain back and pressed his palm against his groin, clicking on the button of the recorder to hear her laugh.
It had made his throat constrict, but somewhere, consciously buried deep inside him, he'd felt a joy at the sounds that filled the empty space of his surroundings.
"We waited too long to do this."
Now, he stands up from his bed and tucks himself back into his cotton pants. He walks across the cabin to rinse his hands, then dries them and walks to the door. He finds it calming to be able to open a door to the night and to breathe in the fresh air. He's so happy she had a chance to breathe the air and see the blue of the sky before she died.
The sounds of nature at night-some familiar, some not-are soft, echoing in the valley below their cabin. He remembers her pressing her hand against that observation deck glass, waiting to leave him yet another memory. He looks up to the sky.
So many stars.
Author: icedteainthebag
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: MA
Summary Bill and Laura capture what they can while they can.
Notes: Written for the inaugural makebillhappy challenge. Congrats to all of the participants and winners! Thanks to tjonesy and somadanne for the quick and insightful betas.
The observation deck is empty as Laura leads him in, her hand tucked into his. Bill regards simple things like holding her hand with such significance and reverence, especially in the few months since the return from New Caprica. Given how many times he'd almost lost her and what unspeakable reality their future together held, he had embraced his prior tendency to appreciate the small things.
He was glad she appreciated them too.
She ends up sitting in his lap, balanced so perfectly on his thighs, her skirt riding up a few inches as she looks down at him. She pushes her hair back with a laugh, that beautiful hair that was always getting in her eyes.
"We waited too long to do this," she says, her voice teasing.
He hears himself hum in agreement, his hands finding the curve of her ass like they've never left.
"That's your response?" She leans in and kisses each of his cheeks. It's an intimate gesture that makes him blush, even now. "Hmmm?"
Yes, it was the small things with her-the heated press of her kisses onto his skin. Her lips move to his nose and kiss it lightly, then his forehead, kissing him everywhere and finding her way to his mouth in the lengthiest journey imaginable.
"We haven't had a chance until now," he murmurs against her lips as they brush together, feather light.
"Because of our responsibilities."
"Yes." He captures her lip with his teeth, tugging and letting go. "And other things."
There's a silence as she sits back on his knees. He can see her fingers plucking at the buttons of her blouse from the top down. Her skin seems surprisingly pale in this light, the room illuminated only by the stars slowly passing by the large panes of glass surrounding them. It's then she pulls her blouse off her shoulders and he touches her bare back, trailing his fingers softly because though he'd touched her before, down on that planet, everything felt so new.
He remembers her toned muscles softened slightly by age and the slight mound of her tummy under the waist of her skirt. He loves to tickle it lightly with his fingers. Her breasts fit so well into each of his hands and she dips her head to kiss him more deeply.
The sound of her breath is deep and even. Peaceful.
He bucks up against her, desperate for friction as he grows harder, his longing for her undeniable and insistent. Her legs spread more, the heat of her pressing against his undulating hips. He hears them both gasp at the same time, hers punctuated by a soft whimper. Her arm on his shoulder, her hand sliding through the back of his hair and pulling him closer to her as she grinds down against him, her movements quickly growing more frantic.
"Gods, Laura," he says, his eyes closed, pleasure reverberating within him.
"I want you." Her voice is always surprisingly resolute when she says these things to him. It sends a thrill down his spine. "Gods, I want you."
His hand shifts to the warmth between them, his fingers nudging aside her panties as he begins to stroke the wetness he knows he'll find there. She whispers an affirmation to him, tells him to keep going, tells him to touch her and to get inside of her, and there is nothing he wants more in this world right now than to do that. Being inside her is more than comfort-it's a comfort gained amid so many things lost.
They never stopped losing, the both of them.
He craves it now. He wants her heat clutching at his fingers and he wants to see the arc of her neck as her head falls back, riding his hand as he cups her sex, his other hand steady on her hip.
She makes him feel like a man again-not just a title, not just a soldier or a warrior.
His heartbeat quickens as his hand moves faster, stroking, his palm hot and wet. He hears the noise she always makes when she's growing impatient, a hybrid moan of frustration and pleasure. "Bill, please."
"Please what?"
He grins and can't help but laugh at the image of her in his lap, panting and disheveled, and the gleam in her eye at his teasing.
She grabs his wrist and withdraws him, then gives his fingers a lengthy suck-he feels a jolt of arousal heighten his senses at that-and then works her hand between them to free him from the button and zipper of his trousers.
"This," she says. "I'm going to frak you like you've never been frakked before."
She didn't tell him she was going to say that, so it had come as a surprise. It made him crazy.
Squeezing his cock, the feeling of entering her is so intense he has to take deep breaths to keep himself from losing it. Not just yet, he tells himself. Make this last. You won't have many more chances to feel this way.
"I want to lose myself in you." She presses her forehead against his and wraps her arms around his neck. She's so close that he wants to feel her breath again against his cheek. "I don't want to remember who I am any more. You know you want it too, Bill. Let's give that to each other."
It was astounding to him how similar their thought processes were. There was nothing he'd wanted more for the past years than to become obsolete.
It makes him want to cry, but he won't. Not now.
Her movements are fluid as she rides him slowly. She's graceful, the shadows moving across her body, her sounds and his sounds commingled as this moment becomes just the two of them, alone. There are no people to appease or ships to run. There are no battles to be fought, won, or lost.
He reacts to her, moving in tandem with her body. She gasps when he holds her hips down. He presses into her, their kisses long and deep and only breaking for much-needed breath.
"Laura, I need you," he murmurs to the dark.
"I'm here," she says. "Right here."
His emotions overwhelm him as he comes, pinpricks of colors dotting his vision of her.
He's still alone, though it doesn't hurt as badly.
It had been her idea. It was something he wouldn't ever have thought of on his own. But she had brought him to the observation deck and showed him the digital audio recorder with a smile that was half amused and half wistful.
"I want you to have something to remember me by," she began. She fiddled with the recorder's buttons and stared at her hands for a very long time, then met his gaze with tears in her eyes. "I don't know. I know it's a funny idea, but I know that if you passed on, I would want to have something where… where I could hear your voice and remember."
He had pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
It helped. It took him months after her death to get to the point when he remembered the recorder still existed, packed away in one of the few boxes he'd retained from Galactica before they sent it into the sun. He once had closets full of memories packed in cardboard, but had realized not very long ago that the things he deemed most important were better stored in his head. There wasn't a lot of room to store such things in this mountaintop cabin he'd built. Anything related to that past seemed like a lifetime away.
Everything but her.
She'd pressed the recorder into his hand that night and turned her back to him, walking over to the glass and pressing her hand against it.
So many stars.
In the cabin, he'd found the recorder and placed it on the empty side of his bed. He let it lay there for days; he knew he'd never be able to find new batteries. Once they were dead, that was it-the recorder would be gone too.
He'd waited days. Then one day, late in the evening, when there was no longer any alcohol to numb the pain or the wanting, it was the perfect time. And then he had lain back and pressed his palm against his groin, clicking on the button of the recorder to hear her laugh.
It had made his throat constrict, but somewhere, consciously buried deep inside him, he'd felt a joy at the sounds that filled the empty space of his surroundings.
"We waited too long to do this."
Now, he stands up from his bed and tucks himself back into his cotton pants. He walks across the cabin to rinse his hands, then dries them and walks to the door. He finds it calming to be able to open a door to the night and to breathe in the fresh air. He's so happy she had a chance to breathe the air and see the blue of the sky before she died.
The sounds of nature at night-some familiar, some not-are soft, echoing in the valley below their cabin. He remembers her pressing her hand against that observation deck glass, waiting to leave him yet another memory. He looks up to the sky.
So many stars.