Family Ties XV

Head thrown back, Laura hummed as her body thrummed with life and the waning strains of orgasm, every nerve ending tingling and pulsing with pleasure as her flesh quivered. She was so hot, but she felt amazingly good, relished the feel of Bill’s broad hands gliding over her slick skin, caressing her gently even as he trembled under her.

“Gods, you are…,” she whispered, her voice trailing off for lack of words, then giggled when he replied on a hoarse, amused breath, “I am.”

Opening her eyes and gazing down at her lover, she saw his bright smile even in the shadows and the glint of those amazingly blue eyes of his. As she looked at him, he rubbed her breasts in a fleeting caress before sliding his hands down her arms. A residual quake shook her at the touch and he just plain rumbled when it caused her to clench around him inside her. It was a deeply satisfied sound that pleased her to no end.

“Feeling good?” she asked, smiling.

“What do you think?” he countered, chuckling again.

Laura gave a soft laugh. He was so intensely happy, had been all evening, but especially after she’d enthusiastically consented to his getting a tattoo — or Tauron marriage ink, as he’d called it — to mark his commitment to her.

Ink was an ancient cultural tradition for Taurons, males specifically, but the women were known to have them as well. Among Taurons on Caprica, however, it wasn’t as all that popular except those closely associated with the Ha’la’tha gangs. Laura imagined it was at least partly because Taurons were often subject to ridicule and the tattoos, which were distinctive in appearance, would certainly label their heritage. She couldn’t say if that were the main or only reason, though. She knew only that Bill — who was Tauron by blood but Caprican by birth — didn’t have a single spot of inking on his body, a situation Laura hoped would change sooner rather than later.

It was an odd thing really. She’d never much cared for tattoos although she admitted that she hadn’t really given them much thought.

Once, in high school, she’d brought a boy home who had one and her sisters had ogled him like he had three heads. Her mother hadn’t said anything, but her father … well, fathers don’t usually want their daughters dating boys who might be in with the rough-and-tumble crowd, among whom tattoos were often a status symbol, at least on Caprica. It hadn’t stopped Laura from seeing the boy — the relationship had lasted only a few dates before he’d moved on to a blond named Jenny — but she hadn’t really been impressed with the large Caprican symbol on his upper arm. She’d always had the urge to get a cloth with soap and wash it off, but with Bill…

When he’d told her what he wanted to do and why, what it meant, she’d been hard pressed to contain the sudden rush of love and excitement his request spawned. She’d felt in some ways like that girl she’d been back in high school, making her briefly wonder if she’d have been more impressed if young Phillip had put her name somewhere on his body instead of “C-Bucs rule!” It didn’t matter of course, was just a silly question that crossed her mind, and she gave it no further thought as more relevant musings came to the fore.

Her gaze trailing from Bill’s, down to where he’d said the ink would be placed, she wondered what it would look like, if it there would be words or just a symbol. She wondered how big it would be, and if it would hurt when he had it done.

Gods, that he loved her so much he would put an essentially permanent mark on his flesh declaring him hers, that he wanted to do it made her heart flip, flutter, and leap all at once. It didn’t just affect her heart either. Frankly, there was just something amazingly sexy about it, so sexy that she was already anticipating looking at it, touching it, kissing it.

She wondered if he knew what he was letting himself in for considering she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off the necklace. Putting such a potent symbol of what he felt, of what they shared on flesh she already loved to kiss and get her hands on was just asking to be ravished … and loved and loved and loved.

Gods, she adored him … and the necklace. It was such a lovely and romantic gift, and so personally significant. She’d never been given anything like it, not by any lover or boyfriend, and she couldn’t say she was disappointed. She was thrilled that the most poignant gift of her life had come from the man who had so quietly and thoroughly moved into her heart and bought her back to life, filling her existence with mountains of love, passion and joy.

Not even her cancer diagnosis had diminished those things; she ached with all of them, deeply and intensely, sometimes so much that she could barely breathe. Now was one of those moments, like it had been earlier when he’d put his gift around her neck and told her he loved her.

Here he was lying beneath her, his body still slick with sweat, chest rising and falling still just a bit rapidly, smiling and watching her look at him, watching her lay her hand over his heart and feel it pound…

Hers.

He was hers. He had been that for some time but she realized as she caressed him and looked into his eyes that she had really just begun to comprehend what all that meant, for both of them. It should have scared her, she supposed, but it didn’t. There was so much love and trust in his gaze that she felt only those things in return. She knew that wherever life took them, no matter how rough or smooth the path, she had a companion for the journey, which was an incredible thing for someone who’d been alone for so long.

She didn’t fool herself; she knew death could come knocking for either of them at any time, but she would not run from this. To do so would be beyond selfish and unconscionably cruel and she could not and would not hurt him like that. She would love him as best she knew how and learn to love him even better, strive always to be worthy of his love and the mark he would bear.

“Will you tell me what it will look like?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin.

Instead of telling her, he showed her, lifting her hand from his chest and tracing a shape in her palm with a fingertip. She recognized it. It was the symbol omega from the old language, which only Taurons seemed to speak any more. It meant “the end” or “an end,” if she remembered correctly. She didn’t understand its usage here, though, and told him so.

“Fidelity and certainty,” he told her. “It means there is only you for me,” he breathed, his voice smooth and rich with the sentiments behind the words. She trembled at hearing them.

“Will you have it done soon?” she queried, finding herself once again eager to see it on him.

He smiled. “Tell me when. I just have to make a call.”

“This weekend,” she answered without hesitation. She knew she had diloxin on Friday and would likely be tired, possibly sick, but she didn’t want to wait.

His brow furrowed a bit even though his smile persisted and she knew he was worried.

Leaning down, she brought her mouth to his and kissed him gently as his arms slid around her. When she pulled her mouth from his, she gave him an indulgent smile. “I’ll be okay,” she breathed, her eyes catching his then drifting down to his mouth, considering kissing him again if he protested.

He didn’t protest but chuckled so she kissed him anyway, laughing with him through the brief tangle of lips that ended with him rasping in amusement, “That was blackmail.”

“Yes,” she conceded, asked cheekily, “Did it work?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, his hands sliding down her back to cup her ass. He squeezed gently when he added, “and you knew it would.”

She hummed guiltily and they dissolved into giggles; she buried her face in his neck when they erupted louder. He just hugged her and chuckled softly against her shoulder between kisses.

When her amusement tapered, yielding to a bone-deep contentment, she snuggled against his chest and considered just sleeping there. He was so damned comfortable and she figured he’d probably let her, but she knew it probably wouldn’t be very restful for him after a time — nor for her with her knees still bent. A part of her hated to admit it but they were well beyond the age of sleeping in such positions.

Laura sighed then smiled when Bill breathed warmly near her ear, “Ready to sleep?”

She nodded and rose over him. For a moment, before easing down beside him for the night, she hovered and asked one last question, as much to see his reaction as to get the answer.

“You’ll call in the morning?”

The smile she expected emerged, along with a bonus — a playful swat of his hand to her behind that had her giving a little squeal as he chuckled, “Yeah, I’ll call.”

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