BSG Fic: Efficiency (Bill/Saul/Laura)
Title: Efficiency
Rating: MA
Word Count: 717
Pairing: Bill/Saul/Laura
Summary: Tory's efficient. Too damn efficient for three leaders just trying to frak in peace. Written for the BSG prompt, ' Bill/Saul/Laura, getting done before Billy/Lee/Tory (someone) notices they're gone.'
“You lose the attack dog?”
“Yeah,” Laura panted, now more intent on losing her skirt than explaining to Bill how she’d evaded her overbearing aide.
Saul was more than willing to be helpful in that regard. He gently pushed her hand away to undo the side zipper while Bill focused on the buttons of her blouse.
“Where’d you tell her you went?”
Laura rolled her eyes and shut Bill up with a forceful kiss. She had to pull away to groan when Saul fingered her clit through her underwear.
“Sickbay,” she answered once she’d regained the ability to speak.
Saul had paused to pull her panties down her legs and she was definitely getting tired of the chatter.
“Well, you did look pretty peaked during that Quorum meeting,” he quipped with a smile up at Bill.
Gods, peaked was a word for it. Tory, with her impeccable timing, had interrupted them two hours earlier, just as Laura was about to come, to helpfully offer to go over agenda items.
Efficient woman, that Tory.
Too frakking efficient.
The president had to chair a quorum meeting while squirming in soaking wet panties while also trying to avoid eye contact with the Admiral and the XO for fear it might send her over the edge right there.
“She’s gonna come here first when she figures it out,” Bill warned, his hands finding Laura’s nipples and pinching them both hard.
“Yeah,” she moaned throatily. “But I’m gonna come first so either he fraks you while you eat me or you both frak me. Make a decision, gentlemen.”
“I think that’s a presidential order, Bill,” Saul quipped.
“Damn right it is,” Laura growled and Bill took the hint to break away and get the lube.
They chose the first option, mostly because it made Laura come that much faster to watch Saul frak Bill’s ass while her military counterpart struggled to eat her good while being pounded into blissful oblivion.
A decidedly efficient choice, as it turned out.
They’d just finished, collapsed into a heap of sweaty, sated bodies, when they heard a sharp knock on the hatch.
“Frak,” Laura groaned as she stood on unsteady legs to gather her clothes and pad her way to the head. Saul grabbed his pants and made a beeline for Bill’s rack.
Bill quickly replaced his pants and buttoned his jacket to answer the ever more urgent knocks at the door.
He opened it to find Tory and, inexplicably, Jack Cottle.
“Heard the president wasn’t feeling well. Was trying to get to my sickbay but her security said she had to stop off here ‘cause she couldn’t make it.”
Bill couldn’t even form a reply before the CMO and Laura’s aide forced their way past him and into his quarters.
Laura emerged from the head, fully dressed in her presidential armor and not a hair out of place.
“I’m sorry to have alarmed everyone,” she said calmly. “Turns out I just needed to get something to eat.”
Laura hoped she was the only one who heard Saul’s guffaw from the other room.
Cottle moved toward her and put a hand to her head.
“You’re a bit warm, Madame President,” he diagnosed.
“Well, the Admiral does always keep it hot in his quarters,” she covered, barely resisting the urge to glare upon hearing another faint laugh from Saul.
Instead she smiled sweetly at the doctor, raising her hand to pat his shoulder.
“I’m fine now, Jack, thanks for your concern."
She turned her gaze to Tory, who seemed to be preoccupied with something on Bill’s chair. Laura chanced a glance and almost groaned when she spotted Saul’s jacket, his colonel pins glinting in the soft light.
“Well, anyway, that will be all. I think I have a meeting on Colonial One now, correct, Tory?”
The aide nodded and Cottle grumbled something about ‘frakking leaders’ before the three headed out the hatch, Laura nodding at Bill formally as they took their leave.
They dropped the still grousing CMO off at his lair and made their way in awkward silence to the presidential shuttle.
Once aboard Tory leaned in close to whisper into her boss’ ear.
“Perhaps next time you’d like to frak the admiral and the XO you’d just let me schedule a meeting?”
Frakking efficient woman.
Rating: MA
Word Count: 717
Pairing: Bill/Saul/Laura
Summary: Tory's efficient. Too damn efficient for three leaders just trying to frak in peace. Written for the BSG prompt, ' Bill/Saul/Laura, getting done before Billy/Lee/Tory (someone) notices they're gone.'
“You lose the attack dog?”
“Yeah,” Laura panted, now more intent on losing her skirt than explaining to Bill how she’d evaded her overbearing aide.
Saul was more than willing to be helpful in that regard. He gently pushed her hand away to undo the side zipper while Bill focused on the buttons of her blouse.
“Where’d you tell her you went?”
Laura rolled her eyes and shut Bill up with a forceful kiss. She had to pull away to groan when Saul fingered her clit through her underwear.
“Sickbay,” she answered once she’d regained the ability to speak.
Saul had paused to pull her panties down her legs and she was definitely getting tired of the chatter.
“Well, you did look pretty peaked during that Quorum meeting,” he quipped with a smile up at Bill.
Gods, peaked was a word for it. Tory, with her impeccable timing, had interrupted them two hours earlier, just as Laura was about to come, to helpfully offer to go over agenda items.
Efficient woman, that Tory.
Too frakking efficient.
The president had to chair a quorum meeting while squirming in soaking wet panties while also trying to avoid eye contact with the Admiral and the XO for fear it might send her over the edge right there.
“She’s gonna come here first when she figures it out,” Bill warned, his hands finding Laura’s nipples and pinching them both hard.
“Yeah,” she moaned throatily. “But I’m gonna come first so either he fraks you while you eat me or you both frak me. Make a decision, gentlemen.”
“I think that’s a presidential order, Bill,” Saul quipped.
“Damn right it is,” Laura growled and Bill took the hint to break away and get the lube.
They chose the first option, mostly because it made Laura come that much faster to watch Saul frak Bill’s ass while her military counterpart struggled to eat her good while being pounded into blissful oblivion.
A decidedly efficient choice, as it turned out.
They’d just finished, collapsed into a heap of sweaty, sated bodies, when they heard a sharp knock on the hatch.
“Frak,” Laura groaned as she stood on unsteady legs to gather her clothes and pad her way to the head. Saul grabbed his pants and made a beeline for Bill’s rack.
Bill quickly replaced his pants and buttoned his jacket to answer the ever more urgent knocks at the door.
He opened it to find Tory and, inexplicably, Jack Cottle.
“Heard the president wasn’t feeling well. Was trying to get to my sickbay but her security said she had to stop off here ‘cause she couldn’t make it.”
Bill couldn’t even form a reply before the CMO and Laura’s aide forced their way past him and into his quarters.
Laura emerged from the head, fully dressed in her presidential armor and not a hair out of place.
“I’m sorry to have alarmed everyone,” she said calmly. “Turns out I just needed to get something to eat.”
Laura hoped she was the only one who heard Saul’s guffaw from the other room.
Cottle moved toward her and put a hand to her head.
“You’re a bit warm, Madame President,” he diagnosed.
“Well, the Admiral does always keep it hot in his quarters,” she covered, barely resisting the urge to glare upon hearing another faint laugh from Saul.
Instead she smiled sweetly at the doctor, raising her hand to pat his shoulder.
“I’m fine now, Jack, thanks for your concern."
She turned her gaze to Tory, who seemed to be preoccupied with something on Bill’s chair. Laura chanced a glance and almost groaned when she spotted Saul’s jacket, his colonel pins glinting in the soft light.
“Well, anyway, that will be all. I think I have a meeting on Colonial One now, correct, Tory?”
The aide nodded and Cottle grumbled something about ‘frakking leaders’ before the three headed out the hatch, Laura nodding at Bill formally as they took their leave.
They dropped the still grousing CMO off at his lair and made their way in awkward silence to the presidential shuttle.
Once aboard Tory leaned in close to whisper into her boss’ ear.
“Perhaps next time you’d like to frak the admiral and the XO you’d just let me schedule a meeting?”
Frakking efficient woman.