BSG Fic...
Title: Instinct (part 2 of 2.5)
Author: snoopy0917
Rating: MA
Pairing: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Spoilers: a small one for He That Believeth in Me
Summary: The second time was nothing like the first...
A/N: LJ is being annoying and making me break this up, follow the link at the bottom...
Part one can be found here or here
Sequel to Inevitable (found here or here) and Insane (found here or here)
Many, many thanks to
deepforestowl for the beta. and for sticking with me through the roughest of rough drafts...
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Translation: I own nothing. Merely a laptop, battered 5-star notebook, and fine point Bic pen. And this little story. The characters? SO not mine.
The second time was nothing like the first.
The first was a blur. A haze of images and impressions that his brain could never fully articulate. The hard desperate tempo was an inevitable product of their situation. Of three years of burgeoning desire denied and ignored for far too long. And as Laura reminded him later, the only way they’d ever get their shit together at the same time.
The second was etched into his memory. Tactile certainty and unforeseen imperfections sliced through his well-constructed daydreams. Imprecise movements laced with subtext communicated words which refused to be voiced. It was better than the fantasy, it was real
Laura was warm against his side. Languid and pliable, body probably still thrumming with climax. She’d used her time in the head well, splashing water over her flushed skin, transforming her hair from wild to adorably tousled, straightening her clothes and rolling up her sleeves.
She looked perfectly composed and normal. Curled up on his couch the way she had countless other evenings. Except this time, instead of sitting a respectable distance away, she was curled into his side. And her panties still lay on the floor near the hatch.
She said nothing would change. It was true. But it wasn’t. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. There was a difference. A difference between unacknowledged love and the heady sensation burning within his chest.
Sex changed everything
He wasn’t a poet or politician. Wasn’t well-spoken. Wasn’t even sure if he could make it through a full day without pissing her off at least once. He’d never be able to find the words to tell her. How she’d changed him, banished the emptiness that had weighed heavy on his heart, since long before Zak died. How she permeated his blood, his breath, his thoughts so that they began and ended with her. How the thought of losing her chilled him, conjured dark images that he couldn’t put shape to even within his own mind.
It’s not enough to live. You’ve got to have something to live for.
She was his reason. He lived for her.
Now he could show her. He could speak with actions, communicating with mouth and hands and body.
He loved her.
His Laura shifted against his side, her eyes tinged with worry and a whisper of vulnerability. Her brow furrowed as she watched him, wondering what he was talking himself out of, worrying that he would withdraw. It was too late for that. He was committed. Until their end.
His hand left hers, inexorably drawn to her face. The face he’d spent so long learning, studying, memorizing so that he could read her every mood with the slightest inflection. Fingertips reached forward to finally trace the fine lines framing mouth, cheeks, and eyes. She sighed, humming softly as he touched her, lips curving slightly and revealing a new set of whisper soft creases. The lines had increased in number since he’d first met her a lifetime ago. They would only grow deeper, as time and sickness and stress marched through her body.
He ran his fingers through her hair. He loved her hair. He buried his face in the long waves, relishing the soft texture against his face, the scent of long forgotten perfume filling him. She arched catlike into the touch as he stroked it, massaged her skull and tangled his fingers in the strands. He couldn’t stop touching it. He needed to enjoy it while he could. He didn't have much longer with it.
He forced his eyes to stay open and study her reactions. The way her mouth curved when he brushed the hair back from her temples. How her breathing hitched when he traced the shape of her ear with his tongue. He caressed the line of her jaw, marveling at how her lips parted in anticipation before tilting his head and lifting her mouth to meet his.
Laura closed her eyes as he sampled her lips. Lightly at first, barely skimming the skin. Pulling back every so often to study her face. He developed the kiss slowly, lips parting just enough to slot between hers. The arousal began to thrum through his veins again, body gradually remembering how to respond. It had to be slow at his age. And Bill was glad. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to take his time. Time they didn’t have. He needed to remember this. He needed her to understand everything he couldn’t put into words.
She deepened the contact, tongue tracing the shape of his lips until he let her slip inside his mouth. His tongue reached out to dance with hers. Long and lazy strokes tasted every crevice of her mouth, simmering the strong remnants of unslaked hunger. Her hand clutched at the neck of his tanks before wandering upwards. Fingers sketched the stubble that had begun to dot his jaw, before sliding into his hair and drawing him closer.
She pressed forward, hooking a leg over his to sweeten the angle, swallowing his groan at the increased contact. Almost reluctantly, Bill dropped his hand to her leg. He’d been saving her legs for later. Lightly, his fingers played over the muscles in her calf, mapping flesh he’d watched for so long.
The desire spiraled slowly this time, fanned by the simple deliberate connection. It coiled in their stomachs as they moved against each other, minuscule adjustments designed to push them closer, enhance the sensation, find the ways they fit together, the ways their bodies best responded. They explored with searching touches, sliding over and under fabric to discover yearned for skin. Carefully. Curiously. Lustily. Until they were slowly groping and making out like a couple of teens on his couch.
Laura squeaked in surprise when Bill grasped her hips and pulled her fully on top of him. He arranged her carefully on his lap, hands pushing up her skirt so she could straddle him comfortably and then lingering, greedy palms learning the texture of her skin.
Delighting in her new leverage, she plundered his mouth. Hands drew the definition of his arms before wrenching the tanks free from his waistband and burrowing to sample his chest and back
His mouth dropped to her neck then lower still, wet kisses decorating the exposed flesh of her collarbone following the trail of her shirt to the swell of cleavage. He thrilled as her breathing grew heavier, chest rising higher against his mouth with each gasp.
Her hands flew to his head, pulling him closer. Soft cries encouraged him. He was driving her mad. She writhed against his lap, aimless, restless, pulsing with nervous energy.
Deliberate fingers caressed her sides, trailing up to her shoulders and then down, tracing the edge of her collar until finding the top button. He leaned back, stroking the soft fabric with the edge of one finger, anticipating the moment.
Impatient, she batted his hands away to navigate the familiar fasteners herself. Just to be contrary, she started at the bottom, methodically slipping each button free without revealing any additional flesh. He began to swell against her thigh, heavy pressure building gradually as she toyed with him. He burned the sight into his memory, thickening with every inadvertent flash of skin. .
His fingers met hers at the last button, parting the fabric slowly, pushing it down her arms. It fluttered to the cushions beside them. Bill groaned at the sight, soft curves, creamy skin, and tiny freckles all clamoring for his attention.
His hands were gentle as they brushed against the fullness of her breasts. Stroked their shape. Felt their weight. Cupped them through the soft fabric of her bra. Lowering his head, he tasted the curves as they swelled against the fabric, anointing nipples through blue satin.
The question prickled at the edge of his awareness, prodding him despite her obvious arousal. Forced its way into his consciousness to argue with the primal male that ached to press her down on the cushions and claim her again, consequences be damned. But he needed to be sure.
“Does it hurt?”
Laura stilled, the question catching her by surprise.
It had hurt before. There had been no outward signs, but the pain was always there. A dull ache, on the best of days. An unwelcome constant that nudged her senses, an omnipresent reminder of the morbid presence within her body. That she carried her death with her wherever she went. Her body remembered what it felt like. What death felt like. What dying felt like. The ache weighed upon her, crowding into her senses when she least expected it. When she was least prepared.
She had been much further along then. This tumor was much smaller. Small enough to easily miss, unless you knew exactly which skin to prod, which area to explore.
She fought the sudden, irrational urge to grab her clothing and flee to the bathroom.
Bill’s fingers still skimmed her curves, but his eyes darkened. Obvious worry weighed heavy on him. Fear that he’d said the wrong thing.
He touched them with undeserved adoration. The traitorous pieces of flesh actively plotted to destroy them both. And he fondled them like a worshipful supplicant.
Her breasts had always loved attention. Loved to be fondled and kissed. A moan ripped from her throat. Tangible evidence of the sensation. Of her pleasure. And it felt good. Gods it felt good. They didn’t deserve the affection.
Maybe we should just enjoy this.
She was going to enjoy this. She was going to enjoy him. For as long as she was able. And maybe even after that.
Her mouth found his. “It feels good. Gods, Bill. You make me feel so good.”
Clever fingers found the clasp of her bra and released it. Exposing her completely.
“Laura…”
His voice was rough, clogged with emotion. Words abandoned him. But her Bill was a man of action.
Large hands returned to her breasts. Plumped them. Fondled them. Thumbs circled her nipples, charming them to tautness and rewarding them with suckling kisses. Bill watched her face, rapt at her obvious pleasure, cataloguing her reactions to his every touch.
The touches grew more heated. Hands pressed harder, insistent and laced with need. Laura could feel her arousal spread, heat radiating from her pussy, brushing the edges of her thighs.
She ground against his lap, working the skirt further up her legs. He caught the hint. Rough hands reached for her thighs, winding around to her ass and pulling her flush against him. His hips bucked into hers. She could feel him between her thighs, through the heavy layers of fabric. She wondered if he could feel how wet she was. Her mouth found his again, desperate to feel more of him
Laura groaned in frustration. Their position was perfect for him. Her body trapped his against the couch, exposing her for his exploration. But severely limiting her access to him. She couldn’t get close enough. She needed to feel skin against hers. To be naked with him. She needed him to frak her again.
She pulled back. “This isn’t fair, Bill.”
He wasn’t listening. A noise escaped from his throat, guessing at the right emotion to display, aiming at curiosity and missing. It translated to hungry as his mouth zeroed back in on her nipples, palms sliding further around her thighs and pulling her back to him.
She intercepted his mouth with her own, the momentary distraction allowing her to plant her hands on his shoulders and shove him back against the cushions.
“This. Is unfair.”
He listened this time, mischief creeping across his face.
Laura rolled her eyes, tilting her head back to hide the indulgent smile. And enjoying his groan as her back arched and displayed her breasts to their best advantage.
“Strategic planning,” He confessed, leaning towards her breast once more.
“Oh no.” Laura slid away from him and onto her feet.
“Up.” She ordered in her most authoritative tone. And shared in his lascivious grin at her double entendre.
Bill took a moment to look at her as she stood in front of him. Bare feet, mussed hair, swollen mouth. Unashamedly naked from the waist up. Skirt pushed high on her legs. Hands on her hips, projecting authority and pushing her breasts forward.
Laura felt her skin begin to flush under the weight of his gaze. But she waited, well aware of the picture she presented. She needed him to look, to remember her like this.
Finally he stood, the limited space between table and couch forcing him into her space. Their noses brushed. He kissed the tip of hers, overwhelmed by the simple intimacy of the movement.
Her hands found the seam of his tanks, pulling them up to finally bare his torso. She forced the fabric halfway up his arms before abandoning the task, trusting him to dispose of the shirts. Impatient, her hands and mouth dropped to the newly revealed skin, eager to touch and taste at last.
Her nails raked down his chest, tracing his pectorals, tugging at the fine dusting of hair, flattening against the middle-aged paunch lining his abdomen, sketching the muscles in his back as he shed his tanks and wound his arms back around her. Her mouth dropped to the cords of his neck, exploring with teeth and tongue as her fingers traced his scar. His skin was intoxicating, strong salt taste assaulting her senses, sharp tang heightened by his scent.
His hands roamed her back restlessly as her mouth dipped lower, following the cool metal chain of his dog tags, worrying the skin between teeth. Fingers buried in her hair when she took a nipple into her mouth and bit lightly, rolling the flat bud between her teeth before soothing the sting with her tongue.
The sharp stab of pain fueled his caresses. He slipped a leg between hers, pressing his hips against her. She rotated her hips, shamelessly grinding against him. Wanton movements communicated what she’d rather be doing.
“Bed,” He growled, grasping for her hand and leading her towards his rack.
Her brow arched, amused at the single-minded focus, the underlying hint of primal in his tone.
“Aren’t you supposed to sweep me off my feet and carry me?” She teased, embracing her naughty side.
Bill turned back to her. The challenge in her eyes inflamed him further.
It was a sneak attack. Before she registered his movements, he’d planted a shoulder in her stomach and lifted, securing her with strong arms. Relishing her surprised shriek, Bill made short work of the distance to his rack.
Laura couldn’t stop laughing. Suddenly upside down, hair in her face, blood rushing to her head. The giggles bubbled uncontrollably out of her throat, fighting to escape the awkward position, shaking her body with hilarity. She gasped as his arm tightened firmly around her, pushing her stomach harder into his shoulder to keep her from sliding to the floor. Her hands reached out for balance and landed on his ass. Unable to help herself, she squeezed. A large hand smacked her ass sharply in immediate reciprocation. It only made her laugh harder, even as her thighs grew damp. It was just so ridiculous.
He dropped her on her feet next to his rack. The sudden change of altitude left her reeling. She stumbled and fell back across the mattress, still helpless with giggles. Bill watched, transfixed as she struggled to compose herself. Red curls scattered across his blankets, joy illuminated her features, breasts bounced with breath and mirth. Her forgotten skirt rode higher and higher on her thighs.
Laura opened her eyes and saw him. He watched her with raw lust. Intense and heavy it raked over her form. Base need inviting her inner vixen to come out and play.
Arching her back just enough, Laura unfastened her skirt. With a twist of her hips, she shimmied it down her legs, baring herself. His pupils widened, darkening with unbridled lust. Hands clenched and unclenched uselessly by his side, barely tamping the urge to help her.
She raised one leg. His eyes followed, groaning at the lines her curves presented. The movement exposed her completely. Opened her to him, presenting a tableau of lean angles, lush curves, glistening pussy. She was the very picture of sensuality. Her foot planted itself in the middle of his chest, toes brushing through chest hair towards his nipples, skirt dangling precariously from her ankle, the fine wool scraping against his heated skin and inflaming him even further.
“Frak, Laura,” He groaned. Reverent hands captured her foot, freeing it from the fabric and pressing a lingering kiss to her ankle. His fingers twitched against her skin, aching to explore calves and thighs before diving into her slick heat.
Laura lowered her leg and sat up slowly. “Not yet,” She smiled wickedly. “Hang up my skirt. I need to wear it home.”
Bill bent down to steal a desperate kiss before complying. She was right. He carefully draped the fabric over his desk chair, nervous palms pressing away wrinkles before turning back to her.
She’d stripped the bed down to the sheets in his absence and sat waiting for him. Reclined on her elbows, legs crossed high at the knee, lines stretching on forever.
He moved to cover her with his body but she stopped him. This time with delicate fingers pressed against his stomach. Laura straightened, her lips brushing a nipple before reminding him strictly.
“Pants, Bill.”
Frak.”
His cock hardened fully, scoffing at age to struggle with the restrictive fabric. His hands dropped to his fly, making short work of belt, buttons, and boxers.
Even his careless haste was too slow for her taste. He’d barely shoved his trousers to mid-thigh before she grabbed his ass with one hand and swallowed his cock.
He was hot and heavy against her tongue. His musky tang assaulted her senses, mixing with the faint flavor of herself from their earlier exertions. The idea sent a base thrill through her, sent a gush of wetness between her legs. She moaned around his cock at the thought. At the sudden realization that her juices were probably staining his crisp sheets.
He twitched uncontrollably at the sensory overload. Shaking, his hand brushed her hair from her face, watching in awe as his cock disappeared in and out of her mouth. Her tongue teasing the thick veins, darting down to tickle his balls, dipping into his slit to lap up the droplets of precum. Finally she took him fully into her mouth again, cheeks hollowing as she suckled the head,
The image seared into his brain, far more vivid than anything he’d imagined. He felt out of control. Unimaginable at his age. He’d already come once and was somehow about to explode in her mouth like a helpless teen.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he tugged gently, trying to coax her away. She ignored the hint. Desperate, he tightened his grip and pulled, stepping back as he did so. And nearly sprawling on his ass as his pants tangled around the boots he’d forgotten to remove. Only her hand on his ass saved him from dropping to the deck.
Her giggles returned, throaty and lusty this time. Her laughter was contagious. He joined in, sitting beside her on the mattress and doing his best to disentangle the mess of uniform below his knees.
Laura draped herself over his back, watching him struggle with the boots. Her breasts pressed against his back, fingers snaking around to toy with his chest hair, teeth nipping at his earlobe before marking the sensitive spot hidden just behind.
“You’re not helping,” He growled.
She hummed in response, angling her head to tongue the lobe instead.
Somehow Bill managed to shed the rest of his clothing. She made a contented noise in the back of her throat and bent her head back towards his groin.
He flipped her, sprawling her out on her back across the sheets. She pouted. Bill kissed it away, suddenly serious.
“No, Laura.”
He began kissing his way down her torso.
“Bill?” She asked breathlessly, worried by the sudden intensity.
“Laura, let me do this for you,” He begged, her scent strong as he reached her waist and pressed lower. He needed to taste her. Needed to feel her against his mouth. Needed to have her come apart. Needed to drown in her. Needed to know her reactions before the treatments sap her energy and vitality.
He doesn’t know how many times he’ll be able to do this for her.
He didn’t tell her why. He didn’t have to.
He hovered over her, fingers raking lightly through the hair coving her mound. His breath tickled her pussy, as he settled between her thighs. His hand slid lower. Calloused fingertips traced along her labia, spreading her wetness. Spreading her for him.
“Let me see, Laura.”
She wanted to comfort him. Wanted to say something that would make it better. That would make it all go away. That would let them enjoy each other, love each other without complications. Without wondering how much time they had left. That would forever erase the hint of anguish from his eyes. But nothing would.
So instead, she gave him what he wanted. She let go.
Her fingers reached down to touch his cheek, brush through his hair. Her thighs parted further, inviting him.
“Bill, please,” She whispered, begging him with her eyes.
He pressed his mouth to her pussy, tasting her at last. Quick flicks of his tongue at first, learning her, teasing her, opening her gently and sampling her flavor. His free hand roamed her thighs, finally settling under her ass and angling her as he nipped along her folds.
His tongue grazed her clit. The sensation overwhelmed her. She broke eye contact, head falling back as she arched into the touch, hand on his head pushing him closer.
With a groan, he dove fully into her. Drank in her essence. Savored her taste and feel. Learned her nuances and catalogued her every reaction as he ate her. The way her breathing quickened, dissolving into rapt moans. The way her legs spread as wide as they could, and then wider still. The way her hips rolled against his mouth. The way her fingers twisted in his hair and clutched at her breasts. She was incredible.
She loved it. He ate her recklessly, shamelessly. Groaning against her pussy like he’d never tasted anything like her. She felt wanton. Primal. Possessed. Her hips undulated against his face, her hand tightened in his hair, forcing him further into her wetness. She was so frakking wet. Words escaped her mouth, senseless mutterings, desperate gibberish that she couldn’t stop. Please. More. Eat me. Frak.
His mouth moved to her clit. One, then two fingers pushed into her pussy. Stretching her. Exploring. Crooking at just the right angle.
She cried out, body jerking when he found her sweet spot. Grinning against her clit, he began to move his fingers in and out of her wetness, rubbing her there with every thrust. Her head tossed from side to side, hips moving out of control. “More.” She pleaded. Demanded. He frakked her harder, loving how responsive she was to his touch, how her cries escalated in a wanton frenzy. She was so frakking hot. He was so frakking hard.
“Laura,” Bill’s breath vibrated against her clit in hot puffs. “Are you gonna come?’
A desperate noise ripped from her throat as his husky voice growled the blunt words.
“Oh frak Bill…”
Her hand anchored his head to her pussy. The other scrabbled at the sheets, searching for something to hold onto. Bill reached up with his free hand, snagging her fingers as she spiraled out of control. Linking his hand to hers, he rested them against her stomach, anchoring her hips. Anchoring her.
She came. Splintered under his hands and mouth. Crying out, screaming her pleasure. Bill tried to prolong it, to devour her essence, to commit her look of pained bliss to memory. He had reduced her to this. He had given her this.
Pressing one last, lingering kiss to her pussy, Bill straightened. Sitting on the side of the bed, his eyes raked over her twitching body, aftershocks intensifying as he eased his fingers out of her. Her body glistened with a light sheen of sweat. Droplets merged and slid across her skin, pooling in the hollow of her breasts. He leaned forward, dropping his head and sipping from her skin, watching as a soft smile lit her face. Lightly, he painted her nipples with fingers still damp from her pussy.
Laura opened her eyes when she felt him tonguing her breasts. An amused smirk crept across her face. He had been enthusiastic and it showed.
“Oh gods, you’re a mess.”
She raised a shaky hand and swept a finger against the - her - wetness coating his cheek. He turned his head and took it into his mouth, suckling the moisture from her flesh, eyes closing to savor the taste.
She wanted him again.
Sitting up, she kissed him deeply, sampling her taste from his mouth before cleaning his cheeks with hot open-mouthed kisses.
She straddled him once more. He anticipated her movements, grasping his cock and aligning it perfectly. Their eyes locked as her body welcomed him inside, the heavy, full feel of his cock already familiar.
Bill slid into her, the slick heat fitting him perfectly. His hands tightened around her hips, bruising the fair skin as he rotated his hips against hers, bucking upwards uncontrollably. Laura’s head fell back as she moved above him, hips circling in counterpoint to his movements, breasts dragging through the hair on his chest. Slick skin slid sensually against his as she set a steady pace above him.
Bill needed to thrust. The hands at her hips coaxed her along, guiding her to a deeper tempo. Laura was not about to let him set the pace. She slapped his hands away from her hips, shoving him down on the bed and pinning his hands near his head.
He groaned. Low and loud and involuntarily. Her brow quirked at the hint of unexpected kink before resuming her rhythm, adding a twist of her hips every time he hit bottom.
He watched her move over him, using his body shamelessly to take her pleasure. One hand escaped from hers, returned to her thigh, angling to brush her clit as she ground against him. Her head fell back, cries escaping from her throat. Escalating in volume until they filled his cabin.
It was too much. He needed more. He needed to feel her under him, surrounding him. He needed to make them forget everything but this.
He rolled her beneath him, the sudden movement pushing him even deeper into her. Her moans continued unabated. It was the hottest thing he’d ever heard.
Her legs wrapped around him again, heels digging into his ass to urge him on. Her nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as she fought to find better leverage. The cool metal of his dog tags spread the sweat between her breasts, a sharp counterpoint to the heat consuming her. She couldn’t hear his groans over her own cries. She could feel them, raggedly vibrating through his chest.
He pulled her legs higher, languid thrusts spiraled the sensation, filling their senses until the universe narrowed to the connection between them. They lost the rhythm, movements growing erratic, desperate, until the pleasure crested within them.
Laura tightened around him, crying out something that was once his name. Bill followed, the look of exquisite pleasure on her face shattering his last measure of control.
Barely sensible, he locked his elbow, managing to support himself over her. His forehead dropped to rest against hers, their sweat intermingling. She kissed him, soft lips resting against his as they struggled for breath. They needed the contact, to prolong the moment as he softened inside of her.
continued...
Author: snoopy0917
Rating: MA
Pairing: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Spoilers: a small one for He That Believeth in Me
Summary: The second time was nothing like the first...
A/N: LJ is being annoying and making me break this up, follow the link at the bottom...
Part one can be found here or here
Sequel to Inevitable (found here or here) and Insane (found here or here)
Many, many thanks to
deepforestowl for the beta. and for sticking with me through the roughest of rough drafts...
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Translation: I own nothing. Merely a laptop, battered 5-star notebook, and fine point Bic pen. And this little story. The characters? SO not mine.
The second time was nothing like the first.
The first was a blur. A haze of images and impressions that his brain could never fully articulate. The hard desperate tempo was an inevitable product of their situation. Of three years of burgeoning desire denied and ignored for far too long. And as Laura reminded him later, the only way they’d ever get their shit together at the same time.
The second was etched into his memory. Tactile certainty and unforeseen imperfections sliced through his well-constructed daydreams. Imprecise movements laced with subtext communicated words which refused to be voiced. It was better than the fantasy, it was real
Laura was warm against his side. Languid and pliable, body probably still thrumming with climax. She’d used her time in the head well, splashing water over her flushed skin, transforming her hair from wild to adorably tousled, straightening her clothes and rolling up her sleeves.
She looked perfectly composed and normal. Curled up on his couch the way she had countless other evenings. Except this time, instead of sitting a respectable distance away, she was curled into his side. And her panties still lay on the floor near the hatch.
She said nothing would change. It was true. But it wasn’t. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. There was a difference. A difference between unacknowledged love and the heady sensation burning within his chest.
Sex changed everything
He wasn’t a poet or politician. Wasn’t well-spoken. Wasn’t even sure if he could make it through a full day without pissing her off at least once. He’d never be able to find the words to tell her. How she’d changed him, banished the emptiness that had weighed heavy on his heart, since long before Zak died. How she permeated his blood, his breath, his thoughts so that they began and ended with her. How the thought of losing her chilled him, conjured dark images that he couldn’t put shape to even within his own mind.
It’s not enough to live. You’ve got to have something to live for.
She was his reason. He lived for her.
Now he could show her. He could speak with actions, communicating with mouth and hands and body.
He loved her.
His Laura shifted against his side, her eyes tinged with worry and a whisper of vulnerability. Her brow furrowed as she watched him, wondering what he was talking himself out of, worrying that he would withdraw. It was too late for that. He was committed. Until their end.
His hand left hers, inexorably drawn to her face. The face he’d spent so long learning, studying, memorizing so that he could read her every mood with the slightest inflection. Fingertips reached forward to finally trace the fine lines framing mouth, cheeks, and eyes. She sighed, humming softly as he touched her, lips curving slightly and revealing a new set of whisper soft creases. The lines had increased in number since he’d first met her a lifetime ago. They would only grow deeper, as time and sickness and stress marched through her body.
He ran his fingers through her hair. He loved her hair. He buried his face in the long waves, relishing the soft texture against his face, the scent of long forgotten perfume filling him. She arched catlike into the touch as he stroked it, massaged her skull and tangled his fingers in the strands. He couldn’t stop touching it. He needed to enjoy it while he could. He didn't have much longer with it.
He forced his eyes to stay open and study her reactions. The way her mouth curved when he brushed the hair back from her temples. How her breathing hitched when he traced the shape of her ear with his tongue. He caressed the line of her jaw, marveling at how her lips parted in anticipation before tilting his head and lifting her mouth to meet his.
Laura closed her eyes as he sampled her lips. Lightly at first, barely skimming the skin. Pulling back every so often to study her face. He developed the kiss slowly, lips parting just enough to slot between hers. The arousal began to thrum through his veins again, body gradually remembering how to respond. It had to be slow at his age. And Bill was glad. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to take his time. Time they didn’t have. He needed to remember this. He needed her to understand everything he couldn’t put into words.
She deepened the contact, tongue tracing the shape of his lips until he let her slip inside his mouth. His tongue reached out to dance with hers. Long and lazy strokes tasted every crevice of her mouth, simmering the strong remnants of unslaked hunger. Her hand clutched at the neck of his tanks before wandering upwards. Fingers sketched the stubble that had begun to dot his jaw, before sliding into his hair and drawing him closer.
She pressed forward, hooking a leg over his to sweeten the angle, swallowing his groan at the increased contact. Almost reluctantly, Bill dropped his hand to her leg. He’d been saving her legs for later. Lightly, his fingers played over the muscles in her calf, mapping flesh he’d watched for so long.
The desire spiraled slowly this time, fanned by the simple deliberate connection. It coiled in their stomachs as they moved against each other, minuscule adjustments designed to push them closer, enhance the sensation, find the ways they fit together, the ways their bodies best responded. They explored with searching touches, sliding over and under fabric to discover yearned for skin. Carefully. Curiously. Lustily. Until they were slowly groping and making out like a couple of teens on his couch.
Laura squeaked in surprise when Bill grasped her hips and pulled her fully on top of him. He arranged her carefully on his lap, hands pushing up her skirt so she could straddle him comfortably and then lingering, greedy palms learning the texture of her skin.
Delighting in her new leverage, she plundered his mouth. Hands drew the definition of his arms before wrenching the tanks free from his waistband and burrowing to sample his chest and back
His mouth dropped to her neck then lower still, wet kisses decorating the exposed flesh of her collarbone following the trail of her shirt to the swell of cleavage. He thrilled as her breathing grew heavier, chest rising higher against his mouth with each gasp.
Her hands flew to his head, pulling him closer. Soft cries encouraged him. He was driving her mad. She writhed against his lap, aimless, restless, pulsing with nervous energy.
Deliberate fingers caressed her sides, trailing up to her shoulders and then down, tracing the edge of her collar until finding the top button. He leaned back, stroking the soft fabric with the edge of one finger, anticipating the moment.
Impatient, she batted his hands away to navigate the familiar fasteners herself. Just to be contrary, she started at the bottom, methodically slipping each button free without revealing any additional flesh. He began to swell against her thigh, heavy pressure building gradually as she toyed with him. He burned the sight into his memory, thickening with every inadvertent flash of skin. .
His fingers met hers at the last button, parting the fabric slowly, pushing it down her arms. It fluttered to the cushions beside them. Bill groaned at the sight, soft curves, creamy skin, and tiny freckles all clamoring for his attention.
His hands were gentle as they brushed against the fullness of her breasts. Stroked their shape. Felt their weight. Cupped them through the soft fabric of her bra. Lowering his head, he tasted the curves as they swelled against the fabric, anointing nipples through blue satin.
The question prickled at the edge of his awareness, prodding him despite her obvious arousal. Forced its way into his consciousness to argue with the primal male that ached to press her down on the cushions and claim her again, consequences be damned. But he needed to be sure.
“Does it hurt?”
Laura stilled, the question catching her by surprise.
It had hurt before. There had been no outward signs, but the pain was always there. A dull ache, on the best of days. An unwelcome constant that nudged her senses, an omnipresent reminder of the morbid presence within her body. That she carried her death with her wherever she went. Her body remembered what it felt like. What death felt like. What dying felt like. The ache weighed upon her, crowding into her senses when she least expected it. When she was least prepared.
She had been much further along then. This tumor was much smaller. Small enough to easily miss, unless you knew exactly which skin to prod, which area to explore.
She fought the sudden, irrational urge to grab her clothing and flee to the bathroom.
Bill’s fingers still skimmed her curves, but his eyes darkened. Obvious worry weighed heavy on him. Fear that he’d said the wrong thing.
He touched them with undeserved adoration. The traitorous pieces of flesh actively plotted to destroy them both. And he fondled them like a worshipful supplicant.
Her breasts had always loved attention. Loved to be fondled and kissed. A moan ripped from her throat. Tangible evidence of the sensation. Of her pleasure. And it felt good. Gods it felt good. They didn’t deserve the affection.
Maybe we should just enjoy this.
She was going to enjoy this. She was going to enjoy him. For as long as she was able. And maybe even after that.
Her mouth found his. “It feels good. Gods, Bill. You make me feel so good.”
Clever fingers found the clasp of her bra and released it. Exposing her completely.
“Laura…”
His voice was rough, clogged with emotion. Words abandoned him. But her Bill was a man of action.
Large hands returned to her breasts. Plumped them. Fondled them. Thumbs circled her nipples, charming them to tautness and rewarding them with suckling kisses. Bill watched her face, rapt at her obvious pleasure, cataloguing her reactions to his every touch.
The touches grew more heated. Hands pressed harder, insistent and laced with need. Laura could feel her arousal spread, heat radiating from her pussy, brushing the edges of her thighs.
She ground against his lap, working the skirt further up her legs. He caught the hint. Rough hands reached for her thighs, winding around to her ass and pulling her flush against him. His hips bucked into hers. She could feel him between her thighs, through the heavy layers of fabric. She wondered if he could feel how wet she was. Her mouth found his again, desperate to feel more of him
Laura groaned in frustration. Their position was perfect for him. Her body trapped his against the couch, exposing her for his exploration. But severely limiting her access to him. She couldn’t get close enough. She needed to feel skin against hers. To be naked with him. She needed him to frak her again.
She pulled back. “This isn’t fair, Bill.”
He wasn’t listening. A noise escaped from his throat, guessing at the right emotion to display, aiming at curiosity and missing. It translated to hungry as his mouth zeroed back in on her nipples, palms sliding further around her thighs and pulling her back to him.
She intercepted his mouth with her own, the momentary distraction allowing her to plant her hands on his shoulders and shove him back against the cushions.
“This. Is unfair.”
He listened this time, mischief creeping across his face.
Laura rolled her eyes, tilting her head back to hide the indulgent smile. And enjoying his groan as her back arched and displayed her breasts to their best advantage.
“Strategic planning,” He confessed, leaning towards her breast once more.
“Oh no.” Laura slid away from him and onto her feet.
“Up.” She ordered in her most authoritative tone. And shared in his lascivious grin at her double entendre.
Bill took a moment to look at her as she stood in front of him. Bare feet, mussed hair, swollen mouth. Unashamedly naked from the waist up. Skirt pushed high on her legs. Hands on her hips, projecting authority and pushing her breasts forward.
Laura felt her skin begin to flush under the weight of his gaze. But she waited, well aware of the picture she presented. She needed him to look, to remember her like this.
Finally he stood, the limited space between table and couch forcing him into her space. Their noses brushed. He kissed the tip of hers, overwhelmed by the simple intimacy of the movement.
Her hands found the seam of his tanks, pulling them up to finally bare his torso. She forced the fabric halfway up his arms before abandoning the task, trusting him to dispose of the shirts. Impatient, her hands and mouth dropped to the newly revealed skin, eager to touch and taste at last.
Her nails raked down his chest, tracing his pectorals, tugging at the fine dusting of hair, flattening against the middle-aged paunch lining his abdomen, sketching the muscles in his back as he shed his tanks and wound his arms back around her. Her mouth dropped to the cords of his neck, exploring with teeth and tongue as her fingers traced his scar. His skin was intoxicating, strong salt taste assaulting her senses, sharp tang heightened by his scent.
His hands roamed her back restlessly as her mouth dipped lower, following the cool metal chain of his dog tags, worrying the skin between teeth. Fingers buried in her hair when she took a nipple into her mouth and bit lightly, rolling the flat bud between her teeth before soothing the sting with her tongue.
The sharp stab of pain fueled his caresses. He slipped a leg between hers, pressing his hips against her. She rotated her hips, shamelessly grinding against him. Wanton movements communicated what she’d rather be doing.
“Bed,” He growled, grasping for her hand and leading her towards his rack.
Her brow arched, amused at the single-minded focus, the underlying hint of primal in his tone.
“Aren’t you supposed to sweep me off my feet and carry me?” She teased, embracing her naughty side.
Bill turned back to her. The challenge in her eyes inflamed him further.
It was a sneak attack. Before she registered his movements, he’d planted a shoulder in her stomach and lifted, securing her with strong arms. Relishing her surprised shriek, Bill made short work of the distance to his rack.
Laura couldn’t stop laughing. Suddenly upside down, hair in her face, blood rushing to her head. The giggles bubbled uncontrollably out of her throat, fighting to escape the awkward position, shaking her body with hilarity. She gasped as his arm tightened firmly around her, pushing her stomach harder into his shoulder to keep her from sliding to the floor. Her hands reached out for balance and landed on his ass. Unable to help herself, she squeezed. A large hand smacked her ass sharply in immediate reciprocation. It only made her laugh harder, even as her thighs grew damp. It was just so ridiculous.
He dropped her on her feet next to his rack. The sudden change of altitude left her reeling. She stumbled and fell back across the mattress, still helpless with giggles. Bill watched, transfixed as she struggled to compose herself. Red curls scattered across his blankets, joy illuminated her features, breasts bounced with breath and mirth. Her forgotten skirt rode higher and higher on her thighs.
Laura opened her eyes and saw him. He watched her with raw lust. Intense and heavy it raked over her form. Base need inviting her inner vixen to come out and play.
Arching her back just enough, Laura unfastened her skirt. With a twist of her hips, she shimmied it down her legs, baring herself. His pupils widened, darkening with unbridled lust. Hands clenched and unclenched uselessly by his side, barely tamping the urge to help her.
She raised one leg. His eyes followed, groaning at the lines her curves presented. The movement exposed her completely. Opened her to him, presenting a tableau of lean angles, lush curves, glistening pussy. She was the very picture of sensuality. Her foot planted itself in the middle of his chest, toes brushing through chest hair towards his nipples, skirt dangling precariously from her ankle, the fine wool scraping against his heated skin and inflaming him even further.
“Frak, Laura,” He groaned. Reverent hands captured her foot, freeing it from the fabric and pressing a lingering kiss to her ankle. His fingers twitched against her skin, aching to explore calves and thighs before diving into her slick heat.
Laura lowered her leg and sat up slowly. “Not yet,” She smiled wickedly. “Hang up my skirt. I need to wear it home.”
Bill bent down to steal a desperate kiss before complying. She was right. He carefully draped the fabric over his desk chair, nervous palms pressing away wrinkles before turning back to her.
She’d stripped the bed down to the sheets in his absence and sat waiting for him. Reclined on her elbows, legs crossed high at the knee, lines stretching on forever.
He moved to cover her with his body but she stopped him. This time with delicate fingers pressed against his stomach. Laura straightened, her lips brushing a nipple before reminding him strictly.
“Pants, Bill.”
Frak.”
His cock hardened fully, scoffing at age to struggle with the restrictive fabric. His hands dropped to his fly, making short work of belt, buttons, and boxers.
Even his careless haste was too slow for her taste. He’d barely shoved his trousers to mid-thigh before she grabbed his ass with one hand and swallowed his cock.
He was hot and heavy against her tongue. His musky tang assaulted her senses, mixing with the faint flavor of herself from their earlier exertions. The idea sent a base thrill through her, sent a gush of wetness between her legs. She moaned around his cock at the thought. At the sudden realization that her juices were probably staining his crisp sheets.
He twitched uncontrollably at the sensory overload. Shaking, his hand brushed her hair from her face, watching in awe as his cock disappeared in and out of her mouth. Her tongue teasing the thick veins, darting down to tickle his balls, dipping into his slit to lap up the droplets of precum. Finally she took him fully into her mouth again, cheeks hollowing as she suckled the head,
The image seared into his brain, far more vivid than anything he’d imagined. He felt out of control. Unimaginable at his age. He’d already come once and was somehow about to explode in her mouth like a helpless teen.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he tugged gently, trying to coax her away. She ignored the hint. Desperate, he tightened his grip and pulled, stepping back as he did so. And nearly sprawling on his ass as his pants tangled around the boots he’d forgotten to remove. Only her hand on his ass saved him from dropping to the deck.
Her giggles returned, throaty and lusty this time. Her laughter was contagious. He joined in, sitting beside her on the mattress and doing his best to disentangle the mess of uniform below his knees.
Laura draped herself over his back, watching him struggle with the boots. Her breasts pressed against his back, fingers snaking around to toy with his chest hair, teeth nipping at his earlobe before marking the sensitive spot hidden just behind.
“You’re not helping,” He growled.
She hummed in response, angling her head to tongue the lobe instead.
Somehow Bill managed to shed the rest of his clothing. She made a contented noise in the back of her throat and bent her head back towards his groin.
He flipped her, sprawling her out on her back across the sheets. She pouted. Bill kissed it away, suddenly serious.
“No, Laura.”
He began kissing his way down her torso.
“Bill?” She asked breathlessly, worried by the sudden intensity.
“Laura, let me do this for you,” He begged, her scent strong as he reached her waist and pressed lower. He needed to taste her. Needed to feel her against his mouth. Needed to have her come apart. Needed to drown in her. Needed to know her reactions before the treatments sap her energy and vitality.
He doesn’t know how many times he’ll be able to do this for her.
He didn’t tell her why. He didn’t have to.
He hovered over her, fingers raking lightly through the hair coving her mound. His breath tickled her pussy, as he settled between her thighs. His hand slid lower. Calloused fingertips traced along her labia, spreading her wetness. Spreading her for him.
“Let me see, Laura.”
She wanted to comfort him. Wanted to say something that would make it better. That would make it all go away. That would let them enjoy each other, love each other without complications. Without wondering how much time they had left. That would forever erase the hint of anguish from his eyes. But nothing would.
So instead, she gave him what he wanted. She let go.
Her fingers reached down to touch his cheek, brush through his hair. Her thighs parted further, inviting him.
“Bill, please,” She whispered, begging him with her eyes.
He pressed his mouth to her pussy, tasting her at last. Quick flicks of his tongue at first, learning her, teasing her, opening her gently and sampling her flavor. His free hand roamed her thighs, finally settling under her ass and angling her as he nipped along her folds.
His tongue grazed her clit. The sensation overwhelmed her. She broke eye contact, head falling back as she arched into the touch, hand on his head pushing him closer.
With a groan, he dove fully into her. Drank in her essence. Savored her taste and feel. Learned her nuances and catalogued her every reaction as he ate her. The way her breathing quickened, dissolving into rapt moans. The way her legs spread as wide as they could, and then wider still. The way her hips rolled against his mouth. The way her fingers twisted in his hair and clutched at her breasts. She was incredible.
She loved it. He ate her recklessly, shamelessly. Groaning against her pussy like he’d never tasted anything like her. She felt wanton. Primal. Possessed. Her hips undulated against his face, her hand tightened in his hair, forcing him further into her wetness. She was so frakking wet. Words escaped her mouth, senseless mutterings, desperate gibberish that she couldn’t stop. Please. More. Eat me. Frak.
His mouth moved to her clit. One, then two fingers pushed into her pussy. Stretching her. Exploring. Crooking at just the right angle.
She cried out, body jerking when he found her sweet spot. Grinning against her clit, he began to move his fingers in and out of her wetness, rubbing her there with every thrust. Her head tossed from side to side, hips moving out of control. “More.” She pleaded. Demanded. He frakked her harder, loving how responsive she was to his touch, how her cries escalated in a wanton frenzy. She was so frakking hot. He was so frakking hard.
“Laura,” Bill’s breath vibrated against her clit in hot puffs. “Are you gonna come?’
A desperate noise ripped from her throat as his husky voice growled the blunt words.
“Oh frak Bill…”
Her hand anchored his head to her pussy. The other scrabbled at the sheets, searching for something to hold onto. Bill reached up with his free hand, snagging her fingers as she spiraled out of control. Linking his hand to hers, he rested them against her stomach, anchoring her hips. Anchoring her.
She came. Splintered under his hands and mouth. Crying out, screaming her pleasure. Bill tried to prolong it, to devour her essence, to commit her look of pained bliss to memory. He had reduced her to this. He had given her this.
Pressing one last, lingering kiss to her pussy, Bill straightened. Sitting on the side of the bed, his eyes raked over her twitching body, aftershocks intensifying as he eased his fingers out of her. Her body glistened with a light sheen of sweat. Droplets merged and slid across her skin, pooling in the hollow of her breasts. He leaned forward, dropping his head and sipping from her skin, watching as a soft smile lit her face. Lightly, he painted her nipples with fingers still damp from her pussy.
Laura opened her eyes when she felt him tonguing her breasts. An amused smirk crept across her face. He had been enthusiastic and it showed.
“Oh gods, you’re a mess.”
She raised a shaky hand and swept a finger against the - her - wetness coating his cheek. He turned his head and took it into his mouth, suckling the moisture from her flesh, eyes closing to savor the taste.
She wanted him again.
Sitting up, she kissed him deeply, sampling her taste from his mouth before cleaning his cheeks with hot open-mouthed kisses.
She straddled him once more. He anticipated her movements, grasping his cock and aligning it perfectly. Their eyes locked as her body welcomed him inside, the heavy, full feel of his cock already familiar.
Bill slid into her, the slick heat fitting him perfectly. His hands tightened around her hips, bruising the fair skin as he rotated his hips against hers, bucking upwards uncontrollably. Laura’s head fell back as she moved above him, hips circling in counterpoint to his movements, breasts dragging through the hair on his chest. Slick skin slid sensually against his as she set a steady pace above him.
Bill needed to thrust. The hands at her hips coaxed her along, guiding her to a deeper tempo. Laura was not about to let him set the pace. She slapped his hands away from her hips, shoving him down on the bed and pinning his hands near his head.
He groaned. Low and loud and involuntarily. Her brow quirked at the hint of unexpected kink before resuming her rhythm, adding a twist of her hips every time he hit bottom.
He watched her move over him, using his body shamelessly to take her pleasure. One hand escaped from hers, returned to her thigh, angling to brush her clit as she ground against him. Her head fell back, cries escaping from her throat. Escalating in volume until they filled his cabin.
It was too much. He needed more. He needed to feel her under him, surrounding him. He needed to make them forget everything but this.
He rolled her beneath him, the sudden movement pushing him even deeper into her. Her moans continued unabated. It was the hottest thing he’d ever heard.
Her legs wrapped around him again, heels digging into his ass to urge him on. Her nails dug into his shoulders, marking him as she fought to find better leverage. The cool metal of his dog tags spread the sweat between her breasts, a sharp counterpoint to the heat consuming her. She couldn’t hear his groans over her own cries. She could feel them, raggedly vibrating through his chest.
He pulled her legs higher, languid thrusts spiraled the sensation, filling their senses until the universe narrowed to the connection between them. They lost the rhythm, movements growing erratic, desperate, until the pleasure crested within them.
Laura tightened around him, crying out something that was once his name. Bill followed, the look of exquisite pleasure on her face shattering his last measure of control.
Barely sensible, he locked his elbow, managing to support himself over her. His forehead dropped to rest against hers, their sweat intermingling. She kissed him, soft lips resting against his as they struggled for breath. They needed the contact, to prolong the moment as he softened inside of her.
continued...