Respite (4/5) by larsfarm77 & icedteainthebag
Title: Respite (4/5)
Authors: larsfarm77 & icedteainthebag
Summary: She wondered if he remembered what it felt like to bury his face in her hair; it wasn't so long ago.
Spoilers: Through The Road Less Traveled
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3,723
Authors' Notes: More than three months ago, icedteainthebag posted this little drabble in rememberlaura. As can be read in our responses, it inspired much laughter, a wonderful friendship/collaboration and, eventually, this 20,000+ word fic. Huge thanks to tjonesy and somadanne for beta awesomeness.
Link to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Chapter 5 will be posted on Sunday.
x x x x
She waited, heart pounding softly, the muscles of her stomach tensing under his hand. There was no doubt as to the location he’d choose. The game had hardly begun and he’d found it almost instantly, lured like a moth to flame.
Relax.
“You know, Laura,” he replied, leaving the ball firmly in her court, as he so often did. She went to lift her hand from his when he caught her wrist. He adjusted so that her hand once again rested over his. “But I want to do it.”
A sudden, sweet ache pulsed through her lower abdomen.
She nodded, not trusting her voice, and quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Jar’s over here.” She sat up. Her nerves steadied a little as she concentrated on leading him, on coating the tips of his fingers with the cool, pale liquid. Yet when she pulled his hand away, she knocked it against the edge of the glass, and the entire jar rocked dangerously. She steadied it quickly with her other hand.
“You’re nervous,” he noted quietly and began to run his free hand back and forth over her hip. “Don’t be.”
She giggled a little, despite herself. “I think it’s a good thing actually. I was nervous the first time, too, the time that counted, when we weren’t so stoned.”
“You were?” The incredulity in his voice was adorable. “I had no idea.”
It hadn’t been about pleasing him; she was confident in her ability to do that, it was just such a change for them. Bill wasn’t like any of the other men she’d been with. It wouldn’t be just physical to him. He would hand her his heart, as he had with so many of his friends, his crew, and, deep down, she hadn’t been sure whether she could be trusted with it.
“You were a little distracted.”
He grinned. “Not my fault. If I had a rack like that, I’d never leave the head.”
Now there’s an image.
Laughing, she gripped him more tightly, guiding him until his hand hovered just below her navel. She let her legs drop open, one knee resting against the back of the sofa. Together they swept a lazy path down her abdomen. He moaned when they reached her bare labia, his fingers tracing her lightly, refusing the pressure she put on the back of his hand. She closed her eyes and gave up control, her hand resting against his in acceptance.
***
Her folds were swollen and wet, the skin unnaturally smooth under his fingers. He couldn’t help feeling for her. Laura was such an independent, private person, and this illness was exposing her in ways both public and private.
And it’s okay. You need to show her that.
He slowly stroked her, wishing he could see the thin film of custard he was spreading over her pink skin. Instead, he concentrated on the textures, marveled at how he could tell the slippery wetness of her arousal from the thicker feel of the custard. He tried to picture her sitting in front of him, legs spread wide, and a thrill went through him at the thought that she might be watching.
“Talk to me, Bill.”
“Mmm… so soft, and so wet, Laura.” He circled her clit without touching it and her hips bucked up into him, a soft gasp on her lips. “Do you like this? Do you like it when I touch you?”
“Yes,” the word escaped on a breath. Her hands clutched his shoulders, the straps of his tanks.
“Good.” He lifted his free hand from her hip. Gently, he parted her folds, still stroking with his other hand, letting his fingers slip deeper, drawing a long moan from her. Her hips began to undulate to match his rhythm.
He needed to see her. She was always so expressive when he touched her. Her face, the flush of her skin and the movement of her body always told him more than any words she might utter. He was about to ask her when her fingers swept into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.
“Do something for me.” Her voice seemed loud, almost desperate.
“Anything.”
“Taste me.” She pushed him toward her. “Please.”
Frak yes!
He shifted his hands to grasp her hips and felt her fall back against the cushions. All conscious thought left him as he let her guide him down, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of her scent, the heat of her, the wet softness against his open mouth.
Gone was the teasing, the light brushes to her skin. She pressed him hard to her and he responded, stroking his tongue inside and around her, hungrily lapping the musky, sweet flavor from every soft fold, every crevice. A long string of cries and moans filled the room. Her hips rolled and her thighs pressed smooth and firm against the sides of his head.
***
It was intense-she was so sensitive, but it also felt so good she had to remind herself to breathe. She’d needed this for so long, and she hadn’t even fully realized it until she felt the nudge of his fingers and his breath on her thigh.
“Bill.” Her voice was soft between moans. “Gods, yes, more. So good.”
He groaned into her in response. She felt herself grow instantly wetter at the vibration of his voice against her body. She shuddered delightfully as his tongue slid deeper and swirled over her, once, twice. Suddenly, he pulled back, despite the force of her grip on his head.
“I need to take this off,” he said, his voice low. “I wanna watch you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She opened her eyes to the sight of poor Bill, his chin glistening with her wetness, that stupid Picon Panthers scarf around his head.
He’s already touched you. He knows what to expect.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Hardly breathing, she lay there as he sat back on his haunches and reached behind his head to work at the knot in the scarf. He fumbled with it, grunting in frustration, sweat visible on his forehead and upper lip. Nerves eating at her arousal, she swallowed thickly and sat up enough to reach him.
“Hold still.” She plucked at the fabric with thin fingers, pushing it up over the ridge of his brow. They let it fall somewhere behind him, still knotted.
He blinked rapidly. A widening smile crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes, he kept them focused on her face. His expression was so tender. It was too much. She began to close her eyes.
“No,” he rasped. “Look at me. See yourself as I see you.”
She took an unsteady breath and did as he asked, her heartbeat unbearably loud in her head, a second pulse thrumming between her legs. He didn’t hesitate. She felt his warm fingers brush lightly over her bare scalp, tracing the edges of her skull, tickling behind her ears.
“Missed a few spots,” he said. There was no shock in how he looked at her bare head, none of the pity she had dreaded seeing. He was so close. She could feel the heat of him and smell the sweat on his skin. “Here.” He leaned into her, kissed a long line over her brow and along the side of her head. He kept his hands on her, stroking firmly over her shoulders and down her back, working away the tension that had settled in her muscles.
“Here.” His kisses grew more intense, lips tracing the shell of her ear and then sucking at the tender skin of her earlobe, the side of her neck. He pulled back a little and his gaze wandered lower. She fought to keep her arms by her sides, simply letting him look, and watched as desire softened his features, heated his gaze.
“So beautiful. Every time I see you naked, I can hardly breathe,” he whispered, leaning to scrape his teeth along her neck again. Her hands clutched at his tanks. She gathered the material in her fists, pulling until she forced him away from her neck long enough to tug the combination over his head and off. Overwhelmed under his scrutiny, she wanted to shift the focus, to feel all of him at once. Her fingers flew over his pectorals, the curves of his shoulders, and the heavy, sculpted muscles in his arms, alternately smoothing over and clutching at him.
He shifted his weight, coaxing her body back, laying her gently against the leather. She held onto him, pulling him down with her. The sheer size of his body forced her legs farther apart, and she felt the hard length of him against her bare sex, crying out at the burning rub of the wool of his uniform pants, the press of his belt into the yielding flesh of her belly.
“This is what you do to me.” His whisper was hot and harsh in her ear. He flexed his hips into her a second time. “The smell of you.” He brought his lips down to hers, brushing lightly over her mouth as he continued, “The sight of those gorgeous breasts of yours. The taste of the custard on your-” He took her mouth, pushing his tongue past her lips. Stroking repeatedly along her tongue, the inside of her mouth, and over her lips, he shared with her an intense mix of her own flavor and his, muted by the sticky, sweet vanilla of the custard.
She arched into him, deepening the kiss, chasing the heady taste around his mouth. She was so intent that she hadn’t felt him lift his hips from her; his fingers found and stroked over her lower lips, pressing hard against her clit. Her body jerked at the sharpness of the sensation.
He pulled back, their lips parting wetly. “Too much?” he gasped, his chest heaving.
She nodded, looking away from him and catching her lower lip with her teeth.
I used to love that.
His thumb ran over her lips, gently freeing the lower one, before he reached past her. He presented her once again with the open jar of custard. “It’s your turn.”
She gave him a teasing smile, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. She took the jar from his hand. “In that case, you’re wearing too much.”
He kissed her again, soft and deep. “Not yet. I wanna make you come.” He sat back, taking the heat of his body from her, leaving her trembling and feeling exposed. Unable to resist the impulse, she went to draw her legs back together. He shook his head. Cupping her thighs, he gently, but firmly, opened her to him again. “Show me what feels good, Laura.”
She met his gaze and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
***
Being with her now was different. It felt like the first time he’d sat in the new Mark VI. Every control was the same as his own plane. Power, pitch, yaw, roll. Yet nothing responded quite as he expected. The stick was tighter, yet more responsive, it didn’t need to be angled farther to the right than to the left to effect the same change in pitch; the breaking thrusters seemed to fire on a hair trigger, making his first landing embarrassingly abrupt.
Every ship had its own unique personality. It was up to you to adapt, to learn when you could push a little past spec and when you couldn’t.
He loved that process, quickly learned that it had… other applications as well, especially when combined with a soldier’s willingness to take direction.
He watched Laura, a shadow in her eyes that he knew she hoped he couldn’t see, a doubt that she’d never had before.
We’ll find it, Laura, together.
She dipped a thin finger into the custard, swirling it around a little to capture his attention. His thoughts dispersed to nothingness as he watched her bring the thickly coated digit to her mouth, breath catching audibly as she closed her eyes, her tongue darting out to lick the custard from her finger. She took her time. He moaned loudly when she finally took it in her mouth, watching him with obvious intent as she sucked it thoroughly clean.
“I’ll need some help,” she said, returning her hand to the jar and coating a finger once again. Leaning forward, she offered it to him.
She was angling for something and he didn’t quite know what. He had a hard time refusing Laura Roslin when she was fully clothed and drenched in a combination of rain and dirt. Naked and radiating mischief before him, he didn’t stand a chance.
He leaned over her and covered the finger she offered with his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as he sucked, watching her intently. She fed him a second, clean, finger, sat up and pressed her cheek against his, her lips at his ear. She hummed, her breath hot, as he worked her two fingers. “Undress for me,” she whispered.
She freed her fingers and rested her upper back against the arm of the sofa. Her gaze flicked to the tented fabric of his uniform pants, before she parted her legs and brought her fingers, glistening from his mouth, to her sex. Her smile was devastating.
Eyes intent on the erotic display before him, he rose to his knees and cupped himself, framing the width of his shaft between his thumb and index finger. Her gaze immediately dropped. Her fingers circled lazily over her opening.
“You want a little show,” he said, not bothering to make it a question; his cock pressed, throbbing, against his zipper, ready for its feature role.
She slipped a finger inside herself, just to the first knuckle. Her eyes sparkled. They seemed so much brighter, prettier, without her hair to frame them. “You’ll get one, too.”
“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your stance on gender equality?” He flicked open the button on his trousers and pulled down the zipper slowly. He watched her bite her upper lip, her eyebrows arching. His pants fell to his knees. The heat of his cock was only somewhat cooled by the shedding of one layer of clothing. His thin boxers did nothing to hide his arousal, but hers was increasingly evident as well. He let his eyes wander again and saw she was stroking her clit slowly with her slickened finger.
“Hmmm. You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” Her lips parted with a pant and he saw the first telltale shift of her hips under her hand.
“You’re already showing me yours,” he teased, running his fingers over the fabric draped over his cock. He shivered at the sensation, at the hum he drew from her.
And what a gorgeous sight it is.
“Then you’d better catch up,” she said, her voice low, “or I’ll keep going without you.”
He watched her twirl her finger in slow circles as her eyes remained focused on the front of his boxers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and heard her breath catch.
We need to be on a level playing field here.
He pulled his boxers outward, carefully maneuvering over his aching cock to slide them down his legs. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he straightened his shoulders, completely exposed. He gripped his cock with his hand-he was so hard for her, watching her play with herself, watching her watch him.
She moaned softly, her tongue flicking over her lip. “Mmm. I like that.”
“This?” He slid his fist up his length, exhaling slowly at the current it sent to the base of his spine.
“Yes…” Laura ran her fingers down through her folds and slid two inside herself with a soft hum. His eyes met hers and she kept his gaze as she began to finger herself with smooth, slow strokes.
“Oh, frak.” He wanted so badly to replace her fingers with his tongue, but he held off.
Let her do this for you. Let her do this for herself.
He gave his cock a firmer tug, then stroked in time with her fingering. His hips thrust into his hand as he watched her, transfixed.
“What are you thinking about?” she breathed, fingers in, fingers out, watching him.
“Going down on you.” Just saying it heightened the tingling sensation in his balls and he grabbed them, massaging them.
“Oh, Gods.” Her fingers slipped out and trailed through her wetness to her clit again, rubbing more intently. She whimpered, her hips responding with a thrust. “Bill, tell me…”
He ran his thumb up the vein on the bottom of his cock, then around the head, spreading the slick fluid he found over the sensitive skin. He sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Remember that time on Colonial One, after we found the algae planet…”
Her eyes fluttered shut and a small smile emerged. She panted, her breath soft. “You came over with the damned reports about the… about the food supply…”
He remembered watching her as she listened to him, her expression changing from slightly interested to bored. And of course, there was the way she had perched herself on her desk and uncrossed her legs, parting them just enough to entice him…
“You were so hot, in that skirt, on your desk, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you would taste.”
“Yeah,” she moaned, her fingers working faster. He watched her begin to writhe, her head tilted back, and Gods, if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“And so I walked up to you and shoved that skirt up your thighs…”
“Bill… yes… keep going…”
“And I yanked down your panties, practically ripped ‘em off.”
She whimpered, her fingers pressing harder into her flesh, and he slowed down his stroking to keep himself from coming.
“And then I got on my knees and ate you so hard, frak, you tasted so sweet, Laura, it made me so hard to have you…” He took a deep breath as he watched her, her breathing ragged, her head to the side. “…all over my face, and Gods, I loved it when you came all over me…”
She whimpered through gritted teeth, her hips arching against her hand.
“I need to… I… frak,” her voice broke, her breath releasing in a frustrated rush. Her thighs trembled. Her body was tense and restless, her sex swollen and deeply flushed.
“Laura, look at me,” he said, releasing himself and sitting back on the low table. Her head turned toward him. Her eyes were watery, her expression telling him that her patience was down to a thread. “It’s okay. Don’t stop.”
She cried out softly, and he watched her adjust her fingers, rubbing along the side of her clit though the hood.
“That’s it,” he soothed as he quickly kicked out of the tangle of material at his ankles. His bare hip pressed against the side of her body as he sat beside her.
“You’re thinking so hard I can almost hear you,” he whispered and bent to slowly run the tip of his tongue over her lower lip. “Let it go, Laura.” He felt a quick rush of warm air against his lips as her breathing hitched. “Just feel.” He covered her breasts with his hands, kneading and massaging, before slowly lifting, teasing her hardened nipples with slow circles of his palms.
He could almost feel the tension leave her, her shoulders falling, her body undulating gently against the working of her hand and his.
“Say it again,” she asked, her voice high, but steady.
“What, love?”
“Tell me… tell me…”
“I was on my knees,” he began, responding to her command from earlier while continuing to touch her, smoothing his hand over her breasts and belly. He ran his fingers lightly over her forearm, the back of her hand, careful not to obstruct her frantic circular motions. “Gods, you were so wet, so sweet, I couldn’t get enough Laura, you-” He leaned over and covered her parted lips with his. He felt her smile, sudden and open mouthed, and then the rush of her heated breath when he swallowed her gasping cry. Her body arched and her breast filled his palm. He was so close to her, had been so focused, that he could almost feel the waves of pleasure that were coursing through her, their intensity pressing her up into him again and again. It resonated though him, delicious tension tightening his balls, his cock throbbing, aching to be plunged into the wet heat that surrounded her fingers.
She pulled away and he looked into her eyes, then kissed her eyebrow as she caught her breath. Her smile was radiant. He felt such a swell of happiness and pride that he had been able to help her do this, that he was the reason for that beautiful smile. Instead of the exhaustion he was expecting, her eyes sparkled with an almost feral energy.
“Bill,” she breathed, her fingers clutching at his bare shoulders. She pulled him closer, nails digging into his flesh. “I need you. Right now.”
He could see the desperation in her eyes. He kissed her neck, her shoulder. “Tell me what to do.”
Continued in Chapter 5 tomorrow.
Authors: larsfarm77 & icedteainthebag
Summary: She wondered if he remembered what it felt like to bury his face in her hair; it wasn't so long ago.
Spoilers: Through The Road Less Traveled
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3,723
Authors' Notes: More than three months ago, icedteainthebag posted this little drabble in rememberlaura. As can be read in our responses, it inspired much laughter, a wonderful friendship/collaboration and, eventually, this 20,000+ word fic. Huge thanks to tjonesy and somadanne for beta awesomeness.
Link to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
Chapter 5 will be posted on Sunday.
x x x x
She waited, heart pounding softly, the muscles of her stomach tensing under his hand. There was no doubt as to the location he’d choose. The game had hardly begun and he’d found it almost instantly, lured like a moth to flame.
Relax.
“You know, Laura,” he replied, leaving the ball firmly in her court, as he so often did. She went to lift her hand from his when he caught her wrist. He adjusted so that her hand once again rested over his. “But I want to do it.”
A sudden, sweet ache pulsed through her lower abdomen.
She nodded, not trusting her voice, and quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Jar’s over here.” She sat up. Her nerves steadied a little as she concentrated on leading him, on coating the tips of his fingers with the cool, pale liquid. Yet when she pulled his hand away, she knocked it against the edge of the glass, and the entire jar rocked dangerously. She steadied it quickly with her other hand.
“You’re nervous,” he noted quietly and began to run his free hand back and forth over her hip. “Don’t be.”
She giggled a little, despite herself. “I think it’s a good thing actually. I was nervous the first time, too, the time that counted, when we weren’t so stoned.”
“You were?” The incredulity in his voice was adorable. “I had no idea.”
It hadn’t been about pleasing him; she was confident in her ability to do that, it was just such a change for them. Bill wasn’t like any of the other men she’d been with. It wouldn’t be just physical to him. He would hand her his heart, as he had with so many of his friends, his crew, and, deep down, she hadn’t been sure whether she could be trusted with it.
“You were a little distracted.”
He grinned. “Not my fault. If I had a rack like that, I’d never leave the head.”
Now there’s an image.
Laughing, she gripped him more tightly, guiding him until his hand hovered just below her navel. She let her legs drop open, one knee resting against the back of the sofa. Together they swept a lazy path down her abdomen. He moaned when they reached her bare labia, his fingers tracing her lightly, refusing the pressure she put on the back of his hand. She closed her eyes and gave up control, her hand resting against his in acceptance.
***
Her folds were swollen and wet, the skin unnaturally smooth under his fingers. He couldn’t help feeling for her. Laura was such an independent, private person, and this illness was exposing her in ways both public and private.
And it’s okay. You need to show her that.
He slowly stroked her, wishing he could see the thin film of custard he was spreading over her pink skin. Instead, he concentrated on the textures, marveled at how he could tell the slippery wetness of her arousal from the thicker feel of the custard. He tried to picture her sitting in front of him, legs spread wide, and a thrill went through him at the thought that she might be watching.
“Talk to me, Bill.”
“Mmm… so soft, and so wet, Laura.” He circled her clit without touching it and her hips bucked up into him, a soft gasp on her lips. “Do you like this? Do you like it when I touch you?”
“Yes,” the word escaped on a breath. Her hands clutched his shoulders, the straps of his tanks.
“Good.” He lifted his free hand from her hip. Gently, he parted her folds, still stroking with his other hand, letting his fingers slip deeper, drawing a long moan from her. Her hips began to undulate to match his rhythm.
He needed to see her. She was always so expressive when he touched her. Her face, the flush of her skin and the movement of her body always told him more than any words she might utter. He was about to ask her when her fingers swept into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.
“Do something for me.” Her voice seemed loud, almost desperate.
“Anything.”
“Taste me.” She pushed him toward her. “Please.”
Frak yes!
He shifted his hands to grasp her hips and felt her fall back against the cushions. All conscious thought left him as he let her guide him down, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of her scent, the heat of her, the wet softness against his open mouth.
Gone was the teasing, the light brushes to her skin. She pressed him hard to her and he responded, stroking his tongue inside and around her, hungrily lapping the musky, sweet flavor from every soft fold, every crevice. A long string of cries and moans filled the room. Her hips rolled and her thighs pressed smooth and firm against the sides of his head.
***
It was intense-she was so sensitive, but it also felt so good she had to remind herself to breathe. She’d needed this for so long, and she hadn’t even fully realized it until she felt the nudge of his fingers and his breath on her thigh.
“Bill.” Her voice was soft between moans. “Gods, yes, more. So good.”
He groaned into her in response. She felt herself grow instantly wetter at the vibration of his voice against her body. She shuddered delightfully as his tongue slid deeper and swirled over her, once, twice. Suddenly, he pulled back, despite the force of her grip on his head.
“I need to take this off,” he said, his voice low. “I wanna watch you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She opened her eyes to the sight of poor Bill, his chin glistening with her wetness, that stupid Picon Panthers scarf around his head.
He’s already touched you. He knows what to expect.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Hardly breathing, she lay there as he sat back on his haunches and reached behind his head to work at the knot in the scarf. He fumbled with it, grunting in frustration, sweat visible on his forehead and upper lip. Nerves eating at her arousal, she swallowed thickly and sat up enough to reach him.
“Hold still.” She plucked at the fabric with thin fingers, pushing it up over the ridge of his brow. They let it fall somewhere behind him, still knotted.
He blinked rapidly. A widening smile crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes, he kept them focused on her face. His expression was so tender. It was too much. She began to close her eyes.
“No,” he rasped. “Look at me. See yourself as I see you.”
She took an unsteady breath and did as he asked, her heartbeat unbearably loud in her head, a second pulse thrumming between her legs. He didn’t hesitate. She felt his warm fingers brush lightly over her bare scalp, tracing the edges of her skull, tickling behind her ears.
“Missed a few spots,” he said. There was no shock in how he looked at her bare head, none of the pity she had dreaded seeing. He was so close. She could feel the heat of him and smell the sweat on his skin. “Here.” He leaned into her, kissed a long line over her brow and along the side of her head. He kept his hands on her, stroking firmly over her shoulders and down her back, working away the tension that had settled in her muscles.
“Here.” His kisses grew more intense, lips tracing the shell of her ear and then sucking at the tender skin of her earlobe, the side of her neck. He pulled back a little and his gaze wandered lower. She fought to keep her arms by her sides, simply letting him look, and watched as desire softened his features, heated his gaze.
“So beautiful. Every time I see you naked, I can hardly breathe,” he whispered, leaning to scrape his teeth along her neck again. Her hands clutched at his tanks. She gathered the material in her fists, pulling until she forced him away from her neck long enough to tug the combination over his head and off. Overwhelmed under his scrutiny, she wanted to shift the focus, to feel all of him at once. Her fingers flew over his pectorals, the curves of his shoulders, and the heavy, sculpted muscles in his arms, alternately smoothing over and clutching at him.
He shifted his weight, coaxing her body back, laying her gently against the leather. She held onto him, pulling him down with her. The sheer size of his body forced her legs farther apart, and she felt the hard length of him against her bare sex, crying out at the burning rub of the wool of his uniform pants, the press of his belt into the yielding flesh of her belly.
“This is what you do to me.” His whisper was hot and harsh in her ear. He flexed his hips into her a second time. “The smell of you.” He brought his lips down to hers, brushing lightly over her mouth as he continued, “The sight of those gorgeous breasts of yours. The taste of the custard on your-” He took her mouth, pushing his tongue past her lips. Stroking repeatedly along her tongue, the inside of her mouth, and over her lips, he shared with her an intense mix of her own flavor and his, muted by the sticky, sweet vanilla of the custard.
She arched into him, deepening the kiss, chasing the heady taste around his mouth. She was so intent that she hadn’t felt him lift his hips from her; his fingers found and stroked over her lower lips, pressing hard against her clit. Her body jerked at the sharpness of the sensation.
He pulled back, their lips parting wetly. “Too much?” he gasped, his chest heaving.
She nodded, looking away from him and catching her lower lip with her teeth.
I used to love that.
His thumb ran over her lips, gently freeing the lower one, before he reached past her. He presented her once again with the open jar of custard. “It’s your turn.”
She gave him a teasing smile, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. She took the jar from his hand. “In that case, you’re wearing too much.”
He kissed her again, soft and deep. “Not yet. I wanna make you come.” He sat back, taking the heat of his body from her, leaving her trembling and feeling exposed. Unable to resist the impulse, she went to draw her legs back together. He shook his head. Cupping her thighs, he gently, but firmly, opened her to him again. “Show me what feels good, Laura.”
She met his gaze and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
***
Being with her now was different. It felt like the first time he’d sat in the new Mark VI. Every control was the same as his own plane. Power, pitch, yaw, roll. Yet nothing responded quite as he expected. The stick was tighter, yet more responsive, it didn’t need to be angled farther to the right than to the left to effect the same change in pitch; the breaking thrusters seemed to fire on a hair trigger, making his first landing embarrassingly abrupt.
Every ship had its own unique personality. It was up to you to adapt, to learn when you could push a little past spec and when you couldn’t.
He loved that process, quickly learned that it had… other applications as well, especially when combined with a soldier’s willingness to take direction.
He watched Laura, a shadow in her eyes that he knew she hoped he couldn’t see, a doubt that she’d never had before.
We’ll find it, Laura, together.
She dipped a thin finger into the custard, swirling it around a little to capture his attention. His thoughts dispersed to nothingness as he watched her bring the thickly coated digit to her mouth, breath catching audibly as she closed her eyes, her tongue darting out to lick the custard from her finger. She took her time. He moaned loudly when she finally took it in her mouth, watching him with obvious intent as she sucked it thoroughly clean.
“I’ll need some help,” she said, returning her hand to the jar and coating a finger once again. Leaning forward, she offered it to him.
She was angling for something and he didn’t quite know what. He had a hard time refusing Laura Roslin when she was fully clothed and drenched in a combination of rain and dirt. Naked and radiating mischief before him, he didn’t stand a chance.
He leaned over her and covered the finger she offered with his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as he sucked, watching her intently. She fed him a second, clean, finger, sat up and pressed her cheek against his, her lips at his ear. She hummed, her breath hot, as he worked her two fingers. “Undress for me,” she whispered.
She freed her fingers and rested her upper back against the arm of the sofa. Her gaze flicked to the tented fabric of his uniform pants, before she parted her legs and brought her fingers, glistening from his mouth, to her sex. Her smile was devastating.
Eyes intent on the erotic display before him, he rose to his knees and cupped himself, framing the width of his shaft between his thumb and index finger. Her gaze immediately dropped. Her fingers circled lazily over her opening.
“You want a little show,” he said, not bothering to make it a question; his cock pressed, throbbing, against his zipper, ready for its feature role.
She slipped a finger inside herself, just to the first knuckle. Her eyes sparkled. They seemed so much brighter, prettier, without her hair to frame them. “You’ll get one, too.”
“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your stance on gender equality?” He flicked open the button on his trousers and pulled down the zipper slowly. He watched her bite her upper lip, her eyebrows arching. His pants fell to his knees. The heat of his cock was only somewhat cooled by the shedding of one layer of clothing. His thin boxers did nothing to hide his arousal, but hers was increasingly evident as well. He let his eyes wander again and saw she was stroking her clit slowly with her slickened finger.
“Hmmm. You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” Her lips parted with a pant and he saw the first telltale shift of her hips under her hand.
“You’re already showing me yours,” he teased, running his fingers over the fabric draped over his cock. He shivered at the sensation, at the hum he drew from her.
And what a gorgeous sight it is.
“Then you’d better catch up,” she said, her voice low, “or I’ll keep going without you.”
He watched her twirl her finger in slow circles as her eyes remained focused on the front of his boxers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and heard her breath catch.
We need to be on a level playing field here.
He pulled his boxers outward, carefully maneuvering over his aching cock to slide them down his legs. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he straightened his shoulders, completely exposed. He gripped his cock with his hand-he was so hard for her, watching her play with herself, watching her watch him.
She moaned softly, her tongue flicking over her lip. “Mmm. I like that.”
“This?” He slid his fist up his length, exhaling slowly at the current it sent to the base of his spine.
“Yes…” Laura ran her fingers down through her folds and slid two inside herself with a soft hum. His eyes met hers and she kept his gaze as she began to finger herself with smooth, slow strokes.
“Oh, frak.” He wanted so badly to replace her fingers with his tongue, but he held off.
Let her do this for you. Let her do this for herself.
He gave his cock a firmer tug, then stroked in time with her fingering. His hips thrust into his hand as he watched her, transfixed.
“What are you thinking about?” she breathed, fingers in, fingers out, watching him.
“Going down on you.” Just saying it heightened the tingling sensation in his balls and he grabbed them, massaging them.
“Oh, Gods.” Her fingers slipped out and trailed through her wetness to her clit again, rubbing more intently. She whimpered, her hips responding with a thrust. “Bill, tell me…”
He ran his thumb up the vein on the bottom of his cock, then around the head, spreading the slick fluid he found over the sensitive skin. He sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Remember that time on Colonial One, after we found the algae planet…”
Her eyes fluttered shut and a small smile emerged. She panted, her breath soft. “You came over with the damned reports about the… about the food supply…”
He remembered watching her as she listened to him, her expression changing from slightly interested to bored. And of course, there was the way she had perched herself on her desk and uncrossed her legs, parting them just enough to entice him…
“You were so hot, in that skirt, on your desk, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you would taste.”
“Yeah,” she moaned, her fingers working faster. He watched her begin to writhe, her head tilted back, and Gods, if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“And so I walked up to you and shoved that skirt up your thighs…”
“Bill… yes… keep going…”
“And I yanked down your panties, practically ripped ‘em off.”
She whimpered, her fingers pressing harder into her flesh, and he slowed down his stroking to keep himself from coming.
“And then I got on my knees and ate you so hard, frak, you tasted so sweet, Laura, it made me so hard to have you…” He took a deep breath as he watched her, her breathing ragged, her head to the side. “…all over my face, and Gods, I loved it when you came all over me…”
She whimpered through gritted teeth, her hips arching against her hand.
“I need to… I… frak,” her voice broke, her breath releasing in a frustrated rush. Her thighs trembled. Her body was tense and restless, her sex swollen and deeply flushed.
“Laura, look at me,” he said, releasing himself and sitting back on the low table. Her head turned toward him. Her eyes were watery, her expression telling him that her patience was down to a thread. “It’s okay. Don’t stop.”
She cried out softly, and he watched her adjust her fingers, rubbing along the side of her clit though the hood.
“That’s it,” he soothed as he quickly kicked out of the tangle of material at his ankles. His bare hip pressed against the side of her body as he sat beside her.
“You’re thinking so hard I can almost hear you,” he whispered and bent to slowly run the tip of his tongue over her lower lip. “Let it go, Laura.” He felt a quick rush of warm air against his lips as her breathing hitched. “Just feel.” He covered her breasts with his hands, kneading and massaging, before slowly lifting, teasing her hardened nipples with slow circles of his palms.
He could almost feel the tension leave her, her shoulders falling, her body undulating gently against the working of her hand and his.
“Say it again,” she asked, her voice high, but steady.
“What, love?”
“Tell me… tell me…”
“I was on my knees,” he began, responding to her command from earlier while continuing to touch her, smoothing his hand over her breasts and belly. He ran his fingers lightly over her forearm, the back of her hand, careful not to obstruct her frantic circular motions. “Gods, you were so wet, so sweet, I couldn’t get enough Laura, you-” He leaned over and covered her parted lips with his. He felt her smile, sudden and open mouthed, and then the rush of her heated breath when he swallowed her gasping cry. Her body arched and her breast filled his palm. He was so close to her, had been so focused, that he could almost feel the waves of pleasure that were coursing through her, their intensity pressing her up into him again and again. It resonated though him, delicious tension tightening his balls, his cock throbbing, aching to be plunged into the wet heat that surrounded her fingers.
She pulled away and he looked into her eyes, then kissed her eyebrow as she caught her breath. Her smile was radiant. He felt such a swell of happiness and pride that he had been able to help her do this, that he was the reason for that beautiful smile. Instead of the exhaustion he was expecting, her eyes sparkled with an almost feral energy.
“Bill,” she breathed, her fingers clutching at his bare shoulders. She pulled him closer, nails digging into his flesh. “I need you. Right now.”
He could see the desperation in her eyes. He kissed her neck, her shoulder. “Tell me what to do.”
Continued in Chapter 5 tomorrow.