Family Ties XI

Curled in the corner of the sofa in the dark of the living room, an wine glass empty in hand, Laura watched Bill and Kara.

They were sitting out on the deck, on the top step that led down to the beach. It’s where they’d been ever since the colonel stumbled off to bed. Kara had gone over first, a beer and cigar in hand, and Bill had joined her a bit later, after having helped clean up after dinner.

With a beer of his own and a just-lit cigarillo, he had kissed Laura on the cheek as she came out of the laundry room, rasping, “I’ll be back,” then slipped out back and joined Kara on the step.

He was worried about the young woman, his words at dinner having stirred obviously still-fresh grief. The girl had tried to hide it away, but it had lingered and Laura had noticed, as had Bill.

So far, they hadn’t talked, or at least Laura hadn’t heard them speaking, but words probably weren’t really necessary. She could attest to the therapy of time spent in silence with Bill. He was just so present and that steadiness in him so soothing that relaxing was the only option available when near him. Everything might not be erased, but troublesome emotions were eased to manageable proportions, which was no small thing when it came to grief.

Neither was the fact that he always reached out. Perhaps not physically with everyone, but he put himself in your path, offered his presence as a sign of his understanding and solidarity. He did it in a way that was both bold and unobtrusive, a contradiction that found perfect harmony in him, and that you couldn’t help but accept — unless you were a total idiot.

Kara, Laura noted, was not and neither was Saul Tigh. Nor was she.

Even as closed off as she’d been for years, Bill had reached out to her and reached her. He reached her even now as he sat meters away beside another woman. Seeing him offer his love to Kara Thrace did not inspire jealousy but wonder that she could be so lucky as to find a man capable of giving to everyone who would let him and still have more than enough for her, whose heart seemed incapable of running out of affection and understanding.

He was a rare man and she felt privileged to love him, to give back to him at least a portion of what he gave so freely to her and anyone who would accept it. She knew few accepted it and even fewer gave back, or gave only so much. And he never asked for or demanded reciprocity, no matter how much he longed for it — not even from his surviving son.

Setting her glass quietly on the end table, Laura watched him finish his beer and drop the stub of the cigarillo into the bottle. He looked at Kara then and Kara looked at him. A moment passed, then two, then he brought his hand up to cradle the young woman’s cheek. A tender smile alighted on his mouth for a moment before becoming an expression of earnest affection, his brow knitting with it just before he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to the girl’s forehead.

Laura’s insides fluttered at the sight and she actually teared up, seeing Kara clench her eyes shut and fight the urge to hug him, her arms raising then lowering, raising again, hands clenching into fists. She needed so much what he represented, Laura realized, but was afraid to take what he offered. And he didn’t push, just eased back and gave Kara another smile, rumbled softly, “You’ll lock up?”

The girl nodded and he rose, bringing his bottle inside.

As he came through the back door, his eyes caught Laura’s and held them. She smiled and he held out his empty hand to her. Rising, she took it, picking up her glass as she did. As they passed the bar, she deposited it there, alongside his bottle, and together they went upstairs, fingers entwined loosely.

Once behind the door of their bedroom, she ventured a soft “You okay?”

Her worry centered around Zak — and Kara — but also over memories that might have been stirred today for him. At one point, during his words on what it was like to be in combat, he had looked at her and there’d been something there in his gaze as he talked about losing friends and lovers.

He flashed her a smile, though, and walked her over to the bed where he flipped on her lamp, asked, “You want a shower?”

She nodded and they showered together, lathering and rinsing hair and skin, hands lingering affectionately in sensitive places while eyes surveyed familiar and precious territory with barely disguised want.

That’s why it didn’t surprise her when he turned her against the wall and kissed her long and slow, his tongue unfurling against hers in a sensual glide that invited hers to tangle and dance.

Fingers sliding over slick, undulating muscle, up and up and into his hair, she molded her body to his and gave him what he wanted, tasting ale and smoke and…

“Bill,” she breathed into his mouth as his hands slid along her sides and down, smoothing, caressing, probing between her thighs then grasping the backs of them and lifting her up against the wall, until his cock was prodding her folds, looking for where it wanted to be.

She wanted it, too, deep inside, moving in and out of her, bringing her pleasure, connecting them. She had thought of him all day, flirted with him through the afternoon and evening, and this was the culmination of all those things and more.

Wrapping her legs around his waist and an arm around his shoulders, she quickly sent a hand down between them, grasped and positioned him, took him in when he pulled her down with a groan of her name. Her breath fled as he sank all in, filling her full, but she pushed her eyes open to find his amidst the steam.

He peered at her through thick, water-laden lashes, intent and intense, dark with love and desire. He pressed his chest to hers, flattening her breasts and holding her up with his body while his hands came up to cradle her face, murmuring, “Love you, baby.”

“I love you,” she breathed and watched his expression dissolve into one of undeniable need. “Take me,” she whispered as the water fell around them, an urgency filling her voice, “Take me, Bill.”

“Yeah,” he rumbled and then he was kissing her again, hot and hungry, his lips covering hers, sucking, tugging and caressing, his tongue flicking, rubbing and plunging.

He stole her breath and filled her with desperate want as his hands spanned her hips and he held her firmly against the tile to frak her quick and hard. Her desire spiraled and soared and she clung to him, nails and heels digging into him as he pounded her pussy with his cock.

She gasped sharply on each deep invasion and cared not that it was going to be quick as she panted and moaned, hummed, pleasure flooding her as his pelvic bone rubbed her clit relentlessly. The sweetness of it came, though, as her heart hammered and swelled with emotion in response to the aching need she felt from him, in mirror of the love she tasted in his kiss and heard in the hoarse raspings of her name when he pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck.

Her head leaned back against the tile, her hands laying claim to him, one splayed across his back, the other cradling his head to her, she shut her eyes and let herself just feel him and with him. She let herself be taken the way he needed and cried out wordlessly when he soon flooded her womb with his warmth, triggering her own orgasm with the instinctive, slow, grinding thrusts that followed his release.

Laura would have stayed an eternity locked in that moment with him, when nothing else existed outside the bloom of pleasure wrought by the love and trust that bound them, but it wasn’t meant to last. It never did. She rejoiced in the beauty of it even as she mourned when he softened and slipped from her moments that followed.

His mouth found hers when she whimpered, shushed and kissed her, soft and tender between rapid breaths while his broad hands smoothed up her belly to cover her breasts, caress, then slide up to take her face once more. He held her as if she were made of glass, his thumbs just barely brushing her cheekbones. When he drew back, she looked up at him through lowered lids and found him smiling gently.

“Beautiful, sexy Laura,” he whispered and she couldn’t help but smile at the wonder his voice held. His words made her heart quiver despite its still rapid beat.

Raking her fingers through his hair, brushing that one errant curl back from his brow, she hummed the happiness she felt, unable to form words around the lump of emotion in her throat. That love of his was just…

“Wanna go to bed with an old man?” he asked, still smiling at her.

“Yes,” she managed to get out, her smile holding fast.

He chuckled and eased them back under the water, letting it rinse them both before he shut it off. They exited and dried off then brushed their teeth. When she picked up the blow dryer, he dropped a kissed to her shoulder then met her gaze in the mirror with a wink before wandering out to the bedroom. She followed once she had her hair almost dry and found him in bed, laying naked and atop the covers.

Laura smiled and relished the warmth of his skin as she crawled into bed with him, snuggling against his side as he woke enough to extend his arm and welcome her. She lay her head on his shoulder, amazed at her how, after decades of sleeping alone, she had so easily adjusted to sharing a bed with him.

“I like sleeping with you,” she said softly as her hand came to rest on his chest.

A kiss to the top of her head and a raspy “me, too” while his hand slid up and down her upper arm was his response. She trembled as gooseflesh rose at the skimming touch.

“Cold?” he rumbled.

She wasn’t, but she probably would be at some point in the night, which meant they needed to get under the covers before they fell asleep. She told him so and he gave a little laugh. “Better do it now then,” he said, obviously bemused.

Laura agreed and they took the time shut off lamps and settle beneath the sheet, tossing the comforter to the foot of the bed since they didn’t need it with the door open and temperatures warming.

Snuggling against his side again, she closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart, and relished the gentle caress of his hand to her shoulder, his steady, soothing presence. As she did, she invariably thought of earlier and how he’d comforted the young pilot sleeping in one of the rooms downstairs and the conversation about losing friends and lovers, wondering if he’d lost both. He’d seemed to understand her grief beyond that of his own, that…

“What was her name?” she found herself asking and felt him take a deep breath, as if he’d expected the question.

“Jaycie,” he said after a few moments then elaborated, “We hadn’t been together long.”

They might not have been together long, but he’d felt something for the woman because that was Bill — if he was with someone, there was some emotional attachment.

Not knowing what else to say, Laura breathed, “I’m sorry.”

“Was a long time ago,” he rasped, his hand moving from her shoulder to draw through her hair.

Maybe, but she knew it hurt at the time because she knew him. She said no more about it, though, just turned her head and kissed his chest gently.

“Going up to Galactica in the morning?”

“Sending Saul and Kara,” he replied. “I’m going to stay here and make arrangements for my things to be taken up, and handle some personnel paperwork that will be messengered over in the morning.”

“Mmmm, maybe I should work from home tomorrow, too,” she suggested, her thoughts from earlier about playing hooky coming back to her.

He chuckled softly, “Do you think we’d get any work done?”

Smiling and humming a low laugh, she confessed, “Probably not … but we could try.”

“Yeah,” he rasped, his thumb rubbing along the ridge of her ear, then whispered on an exhale, “Do what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” she replied then took a long, deep breath, humming, “Good night, Bill.”

His thumb still caressing, he rasped in the shadows, “Night, baby.”

And she slept.

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