NEW: Out of the Chrysalis (BG2003, adult)
Note: chronologically this one comes before Constructing Reality
Fandom:
Battlestar Galactica 2005
Pairing:
Roslin/Zarek
Rating:
adult for explicit sex
Distribution:
How much do I owe you for hauling it off?
Spoilers:
Up to and including KLG2
Email:
exfilia at livejournal dot com
Disclaimer:
if I owned them, they'd have a lot more fun
Out of the Chrysalis
by Exfilia
He lay very still, savoring the scent of freshly shampooed hair and the warmth against his front. He'd thought he'd never wake up with a woman again, much less someone as delicately elegant as Laura. Her head rested on his forearm, and he could feel her breath against the tiny hairs and the prickle of her fingernails brushing his wrist. Of course, he also felt his rampant hardness pressing into the hollow at the base of her spine, but that was for later. Right now he was enjoying the thought that she was his, his to cherish and nurture, and when the time was right, his to free from the responsibilities of the presidency. This couldn't have worked out better if he'd plotted it himself. It was perfect.
Perfection ended when his handset buzzed and woke her. He growled and reached across her to pull the damned thing against his ear.
"Zarek."
"Good morning, sir," came the bright voice of Laura's fawning young aide. "This is the president's wake-up call."
"She's awake." She was, sitting up in bed and apparently fighting the urge to giggle at him.
"Just to remind you, sir, she's due to address...."
"...the fleet at 1100. I know. I set it up. Now go away."
"She should eat...."
He thumbed the thing off and threw it back on his nightstand.
"That boy needs a life," he growled.
"He has one," she told him, "saving the fleet."
"He needs to get a life that doesn't involve getting me out of bed in the morning."
"Poor baby!" She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Are you missing your beauty sleep? Or is it..." and here her hand snaked under the covers and wrapped around him, "this that has you worried?"
He arched against her touch before he could stop himself, but then he moved her hand.
"Don't do that. You're not in any shape...."
"Wanna bet?"
He had thought he would never again be in bed with a beautiful, willing woman, much less climb out of it without taking care of business. She caught his hand and followed him, his tee shirt threatening to slide off her slender shoulders in a most... he closed his eyes, but the sight was burned into his conciousness.
"Something wrong?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I worry about you," he said. He did. It would be a disaster if something happened to her while she was in his care. Half the fleet seemed to expect him to kill her out of hand, and a good third of the ones that did thought it would be a good thing. Maybe he'd hit a little heavily on the anti-Roslin plank of his platform. Of course, that was before he'd known what she could do with her hand. She was threatening to do it again, her fingers toying with the waist of his pajama pants. "I am so afraid I'll hurt you."
She did laugh then.
"Come here," she said. She backed up against the wall and took one of his hands in each of hers. "Put these there," she said, and he flattened them against the bulkhead, one on either side of her. "Now, don't touch. Just let me...."
His pants hit the floor, and her hands caught his bobbing erection and tugged gently. His hands dropped to her waist, but she pulled them away.
"Uh-uh," she said. "On the wall, there, that's right." He leaned over her, stiff arms holding him away from her and yet enfolding her completely.
He felt like he was in prison again, and Laura held the key. She smiled up at him with innocent mischief, and all the while her hands were working him like some fallen angel set to tease his soul away. When she had him where she wanted him, she balled up the hem of her shirt to wrap around him.
"No," he said. "please, let me see...."
"All right." The shirt fell away, and the hands moved again until he watched himself splatter all over her fingers and the front of her shirt and down his own front, and then his arms went to jelly and he fell forward so that his elbows hit the wall with a thud. His head sagged until his face was in her hair, and she held him until he recovered.
The handset buzzed again.
"Billy," she said, "wondering if I'm really up. Get a shower and I'll talk to him."
When he came out again she was sorting through the clothing that he'd found for her.
"He wanted to bring me breakfast," she said, "but I told him we'd all go."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Funny, that's exactly what Billy said." Billy had attracted the unwanted attention of an amorous jocker on his second day on the Astral Queen, and was somewhat shy of venturing into harm's way. "I told him that if we hibernated, it fueled the notion that we're prisoners here. Oh, my, where did you get this?"
She held up a teal shantung couture suit from the best house on Libra, or so he was told.
"Traded forty gallons of pineapple and a remanufactured power coil to the previous owner's heirs."
"It doesn't have bloodstains, or anything?"
"I don't think she was wearing it when she died. Some of the guys tailored it to match the one you were wearing. Will it do to talk to the press in?"
"It's perfect."
He resisted the urge to beam. Well, he couldn't have the fleet thinking he was keeping her in sackcloth.
"Wash your hands," he said, "before you handle it, will you?"
She hung it from a coathook, then smiled at him.
"You have tailors on the Astral Queen?"
"You'd be surprised who managed to piss off the Colonial government."
"No," she said, "I wouldn't. Get dressed. The boys will be here in a minute." She vanished into the shower, and he set himself to dress so that he seemed to be avoiding stealing her thunder while not fading completely into the background.
Apparently it worked a bit too well, because when they walked into the cafeteria every eye in the place was on Laura. All conversation stopped, and they watched her as if she were a feral animal in their children's bedroom. She paused, and then walked to the first table and held out her hand.
"Hello," she said. "I'm Laura Roslin." Buck McKee swallowed the mouthful of pancake that he'd forgotten about when she came in and pumped her hand, and she moved down the aisle, shaking suddenly enthusiastic hands, working the room like a pro.
Working HIS room. He trailed behind with the paranoid secretary and the grinning pilot, just one of her attendants, as Laura won the hearts of the hardened convicts on the Astral Queen, the core of his support.
No one even looked at him. The three of them trooped behind her to the serving line, where she spoke to each of the men who dished out her meal and gamely accepted anything she was told was good, and then to seats at the end of one long table.
The room buzzed, now, and it wasn't hard to guess what they were talking about. Laura, too, was talking with her aides, going over the speech she would make in a couple of hours. He picked at his pineapple pancake, and wondered what he'd got himself into.
The End
Fandom:
Battlestar Galactica 2005
Pairing:
Roslin/Zarek
Rating:
adult for explicit sex
Distribution:
How much do I owe you for hauling it off?
Spoilers:
Up to and including KLG2
Email:
exfilia at livejournal dot com
Disclaimer:
if I owned them, they'd have a lot more fun
Out of the Chrysalis
by Exfilia
He lay very still, savoring the scent of freshly shampooed hair and the warmth against his front. He'd thought he'd never wake up with a woman again, much less someone as delicately elegant as Laura. Her head rested on his forearm, and he could feel her breath against the tiny hairs and the prickle of her fingernails brushing his wrist. Of course, he also felt his rampant hardness pressing into the hollow at the base of her spine, but that was for later. Right now he was enjoying the thought that she was his, his to cherish and nurture, and when the time was right, his to free from the responsibilities of the presidency. This couldn't have worked out better if he'd plotted it himself. It was perfect.
Perfection ended when his handset buzzed and woke her. He growled and reached across her to pull the damned thing against his ear.
"Zarek."
"Good morning, sir," came the bright voice of Laura's fawning young aide. "This is the president's wake-up call."
"She's awake." She was, sitting up in bed and apparently fighting the urge to giggle at him.
"Just to remind you, sir, she's due to address...."
"...the fleet at 1100. I know. I set it up. Now go away."
"She should eat...."
He thumbed the thing off and threw it back on his nightstand.
"That boy needs a life," he growled.
"He has one," she told him, "saving the fleet."
"He needs to get a life that doesn't involve getting me out of bed in the morning."
"Poor baby!" She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Are you missing your beauty sleep? Or is it..." and here her hand snaked under the covers and wrapped around him, "this that has you worried?"
He arched against her touch before he could stop himself, but then he moved her hand.
"Don't do that. You're not in any shape...."
"Wanna bet?"
He had thought he would never again be in bed with a beautiful, willing woman, much less climb out of it without taking care of business. She caught his hand and followed him, his tee shirt threatening to slide off her slender shoulders in a most... he closed his eyes, but the sight was burned into his conciousness.
"Something wrong?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I worry about you," he said. He did. It would be a disaster if something happened to her while she was in his care. Half the fleet seemed to expect him to kill her out of hand, and a good third of the ones that did thought it would be a good thing. Maybe he'd hit a little heavily on the anti-Roslin plank of his platform. Of course, that was before he'd known what she could do with her hand. She was threatening to do it again, her fingers toying with the waist of his pajama pants. "I am so afraid I'll hurt you."
She did laugh then.
"Come here," she said. She backed up against the wall and took one of his hands in each of hers. "Put these there," she said, and he flattened them against the bulkhead, one on either side of her. "Now, don't touch. Just let me...."
His pants hit the floor, and her hands caught his bobbing erection and tugged gently. His hands dropped to her waist, but she pulled them away.
"Uh-uh," she said. "On the wall, there, that's right." He leaned over her, stiff arms holding him away from her and yet enfolding her completely.
He felt like he was in prison again, and Laura held the key. She smiled up at him with innocent mischief, and all the while her hands were working him like some fallen angel set to tease his soul away. When she had him where she wanted him, she balled up the hem of her shirt to wrap around him.
"No," he said. "please, let me see...."
"All right." The shirt fell away, and the hands moved again until he watched himself splatter all over her fingers and the front of her shirt and down his own front, and then his arms went to jelly and he fell forward so that his elbows hit the wall with a thud. His head sagged until his face was in her hair, and she held him until he recovered.
The handset buzzed again.
"Billy," she said, "wondering if I'm really up. Get a shower and I'll talk to him."
When he came out again she was sorting through the clothing that he'd found for her.
"He wanted to bring me breakfast," she said, "but I told him we'd all go."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Funny, that's exactly what Billy said." Billy had attracted the unwanted attention of an amorous jocker on his second day on the Astral Queen, and was somewhat shy of venturing into harm's way. "I told him that if we hibernated, it fueled the notion that we're prisoners here. Oh, my, where did you get this?"
She held up a teal shantung couture suit from the best house on Libra, or so he was told.
"Traded forty gallons of pineapple and a remanufactured power coil to the previous owner's heirs."
"It doesn't have bloodstains, or anything?"
"I don't think she was wearing it when she died. Some of the guys tailored it to match the one you were wearing. Will it do to talk to the press in?"
"It's perfect."
He resisted the urge to beam. Well, he couldn't have the fleet thinking he was keeping her in sackcloth.
"Wash your hands," he said, "before you handle it, will you?"
She hung it from a coathook, then smiled at him.
"You have tailors on the Astral Queen?"
"You'd be surprised who managed to piss off the Colonial government."
"No," she said, "I wouldn't. Get dressed. The boys will be here in a minute." She vanished into the shower, and he set himself to dress so that he seemed to be avoiding stealing her thunder while not fading completely into the background.
Apparently it worked a bit too well, because when they walked into the cafeteria every eye in the place was on Laura. All conversation stopped, and they watched her as if she were a feral animal in their children's bedroom. She paused, and then walked to the first table and held out her hand.
"Hello," she said. "I'm Laura Roslin." Buck McKee swallowed the mouthful of pancake that he'd forgotten about when she came in and pumped her hand, and she moved down the aisle, shaking suddenly enthusiastic hands, working the room like a pro.
Working HIS room. He trailed behind with the paranoid secretary and the grinning pilot, just one of her attendants, as Laura won the hearts of the hardened convicts on the Astral Queen, the core of his support.
No one even looked at him. The three of them trooped behind her to the serving line, where she spoke to each of the men who dished out her meal and gamely accepted anything she was told was good, and then to seats at the end of one long table.
The room buzzed, now, and it wasn't hard to guess what they were talking about. Laura, too, was talking with her aides, going over the speech she would make in a couple of hours. He picked at his pineapple pancake, and wondered what he'd got himself into.
The End