Fic: legs like that, laura/bill, (1/1)
Title: Legs Like That
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (TV Show)
Characters: Laura Roslin/Bill Adama
Rating: 18+
Genre: Smut
Summary: It started with a laugh, or a line. Or his eyes on her legs not her face...
Length: 840+ words
Status: Complete
A/N: Written for the bsg_pornbattle prompts; laura|bill: legs, adama's hands, desk.
Legs Like That, Laura/Bill, Legs, Adama’s hands, Desk
He should look wrong; the Admiral on his knees, hands on hers. He was made to stand tall. Bark orders. But she looks down at him, his mouth wet, lips red, eyes on her skin and she thinks maybe he was made to kneel too.
The first touch of those lips to her ankle and she gasps just a little. Eyes snapping open just in case. Old habits. But they’re alone; curtain drawn, Billy elsewhere and they haven’t done this here yet. But they will.
It started with a laugh, or a line. Or his eyes on her legs not her face. It’s not just his eyes now. Rough fingers dancing up her calf. It’s his hands and his mouth and the wet heat makes her shiver. And then it’s her ankle and his tongue and it’s circles and flicks and it tickles but it’s far from funny. She wants to drop down beside him. Wants to pull him up to her lap. But he wanted her legs and he’s got them.
And she knows she’s submitting even though he’s on the floor and that innate power makes her pulse spike. His tongue running lines up her shin and her heart beats in time with the breath on her skin. Hot on wet, soft on smooth. He hasn’t reached her knee but she’s not sure she’ll last. A groan when his lips nuzzle against her. A moan when he moves away, switching legs. She wishes there were two of him. His mouth on one ankle, fingers on the other. No. One of him is enough.
Arching back into the chair, pushing her legs closer, urging him higher. And then he is, hot breath against her knee, a word. Silent. Her name and she whispers his. A chuckle that makes her shudder, stomach tightening and she wants him. She arches up again, reaches out hands to his hair. Another laugh, low, dark. Deep.
His hands reach up, pushing her skirt higher and she slips down in the chair. The fabric bunches beneath her. He crawls forward, eyes narrow, heavy. Nudging her legs to either side, sitting back on his heels between them, he smiles. Her eyes ache to close, they can’t. She watches, fingers tugging grey strands.
Teeth flashing, lips against her thigh, one then the other. Nibbles and licks and nuzzles and kisses and she melts against every one. Her stomach taut, head back, eyes only just keeping him in sight. He said he loved her legs. That everyone loved her legs. She laughed. He smirked.
She groans and sighs and believes him, legs spreading wider as he gets closer.
Closer. Closer. And she’s hot, wet, ready and she wants him. Needs him. She tries the words out, hears a hoarse moan that could be hers. Could be his. A final nip on each where her legs still hide beneath her skirt and he leans back. She whimpers, blushes, doesn’t care about shame. His eyes take her in, blue a shade smokey, lips twisting in a smirk. Hands still by his head she pulls him back, up and against her mouth.
He stumbles, knees hard against the floor, hands grabbing at her waist for balance. She smiles and lifts her legs up against her desk. Spreads herself wide. Feet against the edge she curls her toes, bends her knees and yanks him harder, closer, until her legs wrap around his hips and she knows he wants her too. She’s still sitting, he’s still kneeling. There’s layers between them and the angle’s all wrong but she tightens her grip to his hair and clenches her thighs and it’s very nearly perfect.
His hands; rough, burning, slide beneath her skirt. Beneath the damp cotton that’s suddenly too much. The first touch against her and she knows it won’t be long. Hands in two directions and she cries out as he pushes a finger in, as a thumb loops eights at her knee. She’s torn, body singing in two places and she locks her ankles at his back. Squeezes hard in and outside of herself and begs for what she knows will come.
Too distracted by his touch her hands let go and he pulls his head away with a hum. Fingers never still she barely notices until his breath blows across her center. Thoughts leaving she expects his tongue. Those red hot lips. She gets his teeth at the crease of her pelvis and a twist of his finger deep inside. No. More. Two fingers, one bite and his other hand grabs hard at her knee. She comes with his name in the air, back arched, legs straining. His hand, her feet on the desk all that holds her up.
She comes down with his smile in her eyes, both his hands stroking lines up her legs. He meets her gaze, eyes her legs. She feels him still hard and ready against her and smiles. He loves her legs and at this moment, so does she.
fini
Please let me know what you think. This was my first complete (posted) pure porn fic without including living spaceships...
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (TV Show)
Characters: Laura Roslin/Bill Adama
Rating: 18+
Genre: Smut
Summary: It started with a laugh, or a line. Or his eyes on her legs not her face...
Length: 840+ words
Status: Complete
A/N: Written for the bsg_pornbattle prompts; laura|bill: legs, adama's hands, desk.
Legs Like That, Laura/Bill, Legs, Adama’s hands, Desk
He should look wrong; the Admiral on his knees, hands on hers. He was made to stand tall. Bark orders. But she looks down at him, his mouth wet, lips red, eyes on her skin and she thinks maybe he was made to kneel too.
The first touch of those lips to her ankle and she gasps just a little. Eyes snapping open just in case. Old habits. But they’re alone; curtain drawn, Billy elsewhere and they haven’t done this here yet. But they will.
It started with a laugh, or a line. Or his eyes on her legs not her face. It’s not just his eyes now. Rough fingers dancing up her calf. It’s his hands and his mouth and the wet heat makes her shiver. And then it’s her ankle and his tongue and it’s circles and flicks and it tickles but it’s far from funny. She wants to drop down beside him. Wants to pull him up to her lap. But he wanted her legs and he’s got them.
And she knows she’s submitting even though he’s on the floor and that innate power makes her pulse spike. His tongue running lines up her shin and her heart beats in time with the breath on her skin. Hot on wet, soft on smooth. He hasn’t reached her knee but she’s not sure she’ll last. A groan when his lips nuzzle against her. A moan when he moves away, switching legs. She wishes there were two of him. His mouth on one ankle, fingers on the other. No. One of him is enough.
Arching back into the chair, pushing her legs closer, urging him higher. And then he is, hot breath against her knee, a word. Silent. Her name and she whispers his. A chuckle that makes her shudder, stomach tightening and she wants him. She arches up again, reaches out hands to his hair. Another laugh, low, dark. Deep.
His hands reach up, pushing her skirt higher and she slips down in the chair. The fabric bunches beneath her. He crawls forward, eyes narrow, heavy. Nudging her legs to either side, sitting back on his heels between them, he smiles. Her eyes ache to close, they can’t. She watches, fingers tugging grey strands.
Teeth flashing, lips against her thigh, one then the other. Nibbles and licks and nuzzles and kisses and she melts against every one. Her stomach taut, head back, eyes only just keeping him in sight. He said he loved her legs. That everyone loved her legs. She laughed. He smirked.
She groans and sighs and believes him, legs spreading wider as he gets closer.
Closer. Closer. And she’s hot, wet, ready and she wants him. Needs him. She tries the words out, hears a hoarse moan that could be hers. Could be his. A final nip on each where her legs still hide beneath her skirt and he leans back. She whimpers, blushes, doesn’t care about shame. His eyes take her in, blue a shade smokey, lips twisting in a smirk. Hands still by his head she pulls him back, up and against her mouth.
He stumbles, knees hard against the floor, hands grabbing at her waist for balance. She smiles and lifts her legs up against her desk. Spreads herself wide. Feet against the edge she curls her toes, bends her knees and yanks him harder, closer, until her legs wrap around his hips and she knows he wants her too. She’s still sitting, he’s still kneeling. There’s layers between them and the angle’s all wrong but she tightens her grip to his hair and clenches her thighs and it’s very nearly perfect.
His hands; rough, burning, slide beneath her skirt. Beneath the damp cotton that’s suddenly too much. The first touch against her and she knows it won’t be long. Hands in two directions and she cries out as he pushes a finger in, as a thumb loops eights at her knee. She’s torn, body singing in two places and she locks her ankles at his back. Squeezes hard in and outside of herself and begs for what she knows will come.
Too distracted by his touch her hands let go and he pulls his head away with a hum. Fingers never still she barely notices until his breath blows across her center. Thoughts leaving she expects his tongue. Those red hot lips. She gets his teeth at the crease of her pelvis and a twist of his finger deep inside. No. More. Two fingers, one bite and his other hand grabs hard at her knee. She comes with his name in the air, back arched, legs straining. His hand, her feet on the desk all that holds her up.
She comes down with his smile in her eyes, both his hands stroking lines up her legs. He meets her gaze, eyes her legs. She feels him still hard and ready against her and smiles. He loves her legs and at this moment, so does she.
fini
Please let me know what you think. This was my first complete (posted) pure porn fic without including living spaceships...