Slide 19: Come Undone

“Do you have an atlas of the Colonies?”

At Laura Roslin’s question, Bill Adama looked up from his ship’s log and met her gaze across the space that separated them. She sat at the dining table in the main area of his quarters developing lesson plans while he worked at his desk, adjacent to his bed — or rack, as the military called it. He frowned slightly at her question, as if trying to remember if he did or didn’t have an atlas, or perhaps where it might be.

“Yeah, I do,” he answered after a few moments. He set aside his pen and started to rise.

Laura tried to wave him back down. “That’s okay, I can get if you’ll point me in the right direction.”

He continued to rise. “I can use the break,” he said as he moved from behind his desk. “And, to be honest, I’m not sure where it is.” He flashed her a smile when he passed by on the way over to the stacks of books behind and beside the couch. “It’s not something I’ve needed too often out here.”

Laura pushed away from the table intent on helping him find it. “Is it most likely over there?” she gestured to where he was starting his search.

“Probably. It’s an oversize volume,” he said as he knelt down beside a stack of books.

Laura was struck with a sense of deja vu seeing him there like that. When she’d first walked into his quarters a year ago following their initial escape from the Cylons, he’d been in a similar position, picking up books that had been thrown asunder during the battle at Ragnar Station. Even his jacket hung open now as it had that day. Missing was the tension between them and that horrible injury to his temple. A slight scar remained from the latter, though.

Laura went over and eased down beside him. Together, they sorted the stack of books, but didn’t find the atlas. They moved next to those behind the couch, kneeling on the cushions, inching their way along it until Bill finally announced he’d found it.

“Here it is,” he said. It was on the bottom of the stack, so he hefted the half-dozen heavy books from atop it while Laura procured the atlas from beneath.

“It’s nowhere near up to date,” Bill said and both of them paused at his words, she in turning and he in setting the other books back down.

Laura looked over, eyes connecting with his, saw in those blue seas the realization that’d hit her at his words — there was no up-to-date book of any sort on the Colonies. They’d both known this, of course, intellectually and in reality, but it was one of those things they frankly hadn’t had time to really think about or discuss. And it was too depressing a thought to do dwell on now.

Shoving aside the sorrow that always seemed to lurk somewhere within her over the loss of their home worlds, Laura offered Bill a small but commiserating smile. “It will be fine,” she said. “If it weren’t for your books, I’m not sure how good an education I could give the children considering I’d be relying on my memory of subjects I haven’t taught in ages, and some I haven’t taught at all.”

Amusement filtered through the sorrow she saw in his gaze. “You’re going to do fine,” he told her. “And I’d trust your memory over most people’s facts any day.”

“Thank you,” she replied, not knowing what else to say.

Book in hand, she then turned and sat on the couch, opened the atlas. Beside her, he turned as well, pausing to drop a light kiss to the top of her head before he wandered back over to his desk.

Laura smiled. She couldn’t help it. There was something about how he did little things like that that touched her in a way that she wasn’t sure anyone ever had. And she found she liked it. Very much.

Rising, Laura walked over to the table with the book. For several long minutes, she watched Bill as he went back to writing in his log, enjoying the familiar sight of him working in the warm light of the lamp. There was something intrinsically comforting in his presence, in how this quiet time with him had become a fixture in her daily life.

For a woman who had never really shared living space to any degree with a man, the comfort she derived from the time she spent here in Bill’s quarters, with him, came as something of a surprise, but it was a welcome one.

Eventually, Laura broke off her study of him and thumbed through the atlas. Once she’d found what she was looking for, she worked for a couple more hours, until her eyes protested further scanning of the fine print on the maps.

With a sigh, she took off her glasses, sat them atop the pages and rose, stretching the kinks out of her back from being hunched over the books for so long. Her spine popped and she gave off a groan of relief.

She glanced briefly at the prayer articles on the chest in front of the couch before deciding she’d skip her petitions tonight, at least the formalities. She would still make them, just without the usual accompanying rituals, the thought of getting down in the floor thoroughly unappealing at the moment. It was a selfish concession to her not-so-young body and she asked the gods to forgive her it. And for her desire for physical comfort tonight in lieu of the spiritual, a desire that, she admitted to herself, extended well beyond the mere creature comforts of a hot shower and a decent bed to those the man in the next room could personally provide. She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, had no specific needs or wants. She just knew she wanted, something, and whatever it was, she would find with Bill.

Warmth flooding her, Laura slowly wandered around the room, whispering her prayers and dousing each light she passed until illumination came from the lamp on Bill’s desk, where he still worked. She drifted toward the source, toward him, untucking her shirttails from her skirt as she did.

Bill looked up as she neared. His keen eyes did not miss that her hands had moved to the buttons on her blouse and were steadily undoing each one, but they quickly latched onto hers, a question in them, then understanding.

Without a word, she shrugged the garment off her shoulders and laid it over the chair in front of his desk. She then reached for the zipper at the back of her skirt as she stepped into the lavatory.

Without fail, he followed and, within a matter of moments, she felt his thick fingers skimming over her back, unhooking her bra and then sliding the straps down her arms.

Laura closed her eyes, trembling as his hands glided over her back, down to divest her of her skirt and what lay beneath. Strong arms came around her then, pulling her back against a body broad and warm, comforting even though still clothed.

With a sigh, Laura leaned into him, resting her head back on his shoulder. He brought his head beside hers, whispered, “What is it?”

Laura smiled, hummed softly. “Nothing really,” she said softly. “I just…”

“Want?” he anticipated, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated through her.

“Yes,” she breathed, arms coming to rest atop his. She felt his body tremble in answer to the one that shook her with the admission.

His lips touched her ear. His breath was warm, his voice so low as to barely be audible. “Tell me.”

She took a steadying breath. “It’s nothing specific, just…” she began then stopped, asking, “Have you ever just wanted but not known what it was you wanted?”

“Yes.” A kiss to her neck came on the heels of his answer, then a gentle command, “Turn on the water.”

He released her and she did as he asked while he stripped down. Together then, they slipped into the shower and under the warm jets. Laura welcomed him at her back again, his embrace. Her hands found his and fingers laced.

“Just close your eyes and let it come,” he murmured as he slid their joined hands over the front of her body, caressing plains and slopes. “Whatever happens, happens,” he breathed. “Whatever doesn’t, doesn’t.”

Trembling, heat flooding her body and heart racing away, Laura did as he said, eyes falling shut as he caressed her slick skin, using both their fingers, touching her every place they could reach in tandem. It ignited a fire in her blood, had her gasping and pushing into his hands wherever he touched.

With a whisper of her name, he pressed his cheek to hers and cupped her breasts gently, rounded them with his palms, slid up the slopes to her collarbone, then back down again. Downward still, to her hips and upper thighs.

Then easing his hands from hers, he swept his touch around and up over her behind, to her lower back, fingers splayed over her skin, gliding up the expanse of her back, beneath her hair, thumbs grazing the hollow of her spine. He rounded her shoulders and traversed the length of her arms. Catching her hands, he lifted, bringing her arms up and back, putting her hands into his hair.

With a soft moan, she threaded her fingers into the locks, delighted in the feel of his hands gripping her upper arms then easing along her sides in a fluid stroke to her waist. He drew her hips back to his, let her feel his desire for her.

“Bill,” she breathed into the steam rising around them.

“Yes, Laura,” was his reply, a deep rasp that testified to his own want.

And then he was turning her and kissing her, his lips sliding over hers in slothful caresses as his hands slid over her skin. Hot water beat down on her back as she molded her body to his. He moaned into her mouth and pulled her impossibly closer, kissed her deeper, slower still, hands lifting up, up until he cradled her face. Her own sank again into his hair.

Body rising, Laura tore her mouth from his to slow the spinning in her head. It was no use as his mouth found other places to taste and hands to claim. Her neck. Her breasts. Her shoulders and upper arms. She was panting and humming constantly, struggled to hold onto a shred of mental clarity as he launched a calculated sensual assault that threatened to bring her to a swift and rapturous end.

The previously indeterminate want was being rapidly defined in sharp relief by sweeping caresses of hands and tongue. Abandonment. She needed it. To let go of everything and just feel. To lose herself in those feelings, in what it was to be a woman wanted by a man, this man. To want him in return with a fierceness that bordered on insanity, and that might very well lead to it if it was not satisfied.

But not here, in the shower, against the wall. She wanted him over her, to feel his weight, to know his heat, not the water’s. She wanted softness at her back, comfort for her body as hers was comfort for his. And she wanted to slow things, let them build again. She wanted to come undone gradually. She wanted to enjoy it, to feel its approach and let it overcome her in its own good time not in a disjointed burst of uncontrolled wildness.

She just wanted so much. Bill made her feel so much … made her want … everything … at once.

Gods, for all the definition her want was taking on, at the moment, she felt fractured, a dizzying whirl of desires, so many different scenarios vying for center stage in her mind that she felt divided from herself. And with each moment that passed, new ones came to mind — what she wanted and how she wanted it. It was maddening and she needed it to still a moment, just a few minutes so she could center herself, catch her breath, which was hard to do in the thickening steam.

Taking Bill’s face in her hands, Laura brought him up, caught his gaze, panting, pleading, “Wait, please wait.”

Blue eyes searched hers, so steady even in the heat of passion. Concern flooded them, prompting her to wrap her arms around him and hug him tightly. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “Just give me a minute.”

In response, his arms came around her again. He leaned his head against hers and kissed her cheek gently. It took some time, but she steadily relaxed against him, her mind easing, the wildness retreating. The whole time he just held her, secured her, his hands splayed across her skin, caressing soothingly from time to time.

After a while, he ventured timidly, “Too much?”

Laura shook her head. “Too fast.”

He drew back and met her gaze, his expression achingly tender. One of his broad hands cradled her jaw, held it as if she were made of glass, delicate and fragile. “Slower?”

She nodded, leaning into his touch with a soft hum. A corner of his mouth gently curved upward. “This isn’t the venue for that,” he said, his voice infinitely soft, making her heart flutter.

“No,” she agreed, returning his smile.

His thumb rubbed against her lips, lightly, pressed softly, parting them. Her eyes fell closed and she exhaled against the thick digit.

His lips touched her temple. He whispered, “You need to make love.”

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding slightly as a delicate fluttering of her insides began.

His voice was a thick rasp in her ear. “Slowly.”

The single word flooded her with heat untold. “Yes,” she hummed.

There was a kiss to her ear, another whisper. “Long and deep.”

Laura quivered, her voice a mere thready breath. “Gods, yes.”

He nuzzled into her neck as he pressed his body closer to hers. “I want you to melt for me, Laura.” His mouth skimmed her throat. “I want you to come undone … just for me.”

Bill’s rumbling whispers were enough to almost make Laura do so. She was already melting, already coming undone. He was such an intense man, that intensity an aura around him. She was enveloped in it and it was where she wanted and needed to be most in the universe at that moment.

“I want that,” she murmured, her lips skating across his ear. She heard the promise in her words and felt it echoed in his gentle touch, a caress to her cheek.

The water shut off then bodies quickly dried with soft towels, they made their way to his rack. It was narrow and not blissfully comfortable, but it had become a special place for Laura, and for them.

They lay down together, she on her back as he lay beside her. One arm cradled her while the other explored.

He started with her face, adoring caresses of his lips and fingers, his mouth infinitely soft against hers as he ran his hand along the line of her neck. She arched subconsciously under the touch, her body undulating in time with the wave of pleasure such a simple touch initiated in her flesh. She invariably hummed in delight.

His touch was light and, gods, loving as he explored her breasts with infinite thoroughness, mapping every millimeter of them with the pads of his fingers, circling from base to peak, then moulded them in his warm palm.

His mouth leaving hers, he murmured, “Give me your eyes.”

Lids raising just a bit, she looked at him through her lashes and felt her heart rise in her chest. His expression was… She had to touch him, fairly certain she’d never been looked at in quite that way before, by him or any other man.

There was such gentleness in it, such warmth and peace, such openness.

Fingers grazing from his temple to his jaw, she felt him tremble, watched him smile. “You are beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes moving from hers and down over her body. His hand followed the path of his gaze, gliding over her belly and down to her thigh.

Ever so tenderly but with apparent determination, his fingers eased inward, urging her to open to him. She did so without hesitation and was rewarded with awed whisper of her name.

His eyes came back to hers and held her gaze as he caressed, delved and discovered, coaxing her body to give and give and give. It gave in abundance and she fairly vibrated with the desire built under his touch. Her hand staked claim to his arm, gliding up and down its length, delighting in the feel of muscles flexing, the strength contained in the pronounced contours.

Laura moved into his touch without an ounce of self consciousness and watched his eyes brighten, felt his touch grow bolder. She gasped as he reached deep, then deeper, closing her fingers around his wrist and holding tightly.

“You like that,” he observed.

She nodded, eased her hand slowly down to cover his, moaned his name as he continued to play her. This was what she wanted. This … him … her … just like this. Lovers.

Laura’s body clenched and unclenched with each touch, inhaled in quick, soft pants. She writhed beside him as her flesh coiled tight with need. Lifting her head from his arm, she sought out his mouth with hers, kissed him then ducked into the hollow of his throat, pressing her brow against the side of his neck.

His hand curled up and cradled her against him. She heard him rasp. “You need more.”

“Yes,” she whispered instinctively and found herself under him, her legs opening wide to accept him. His penetration was so slow, so purposeful she thought she might die from the bliss. She melted around him and watched unabashed joy light his face and eyes.

“Yes, Laura,” he breathed as her hands clamped onto his arms. “Give yourself to me. Let me give you what you need.”

Laura did. She couldn’t stop herself, didn’t want to. She moved with him, meeting him as he filled her again and again, moaning in perfect time, arching and taking him deeper.

He groaned her name and closed his eyes, his features falling into an expression that was almost one of astonishment. “Good, so good,” he breathed before finding her eyes again.

Trembling arms lowered him to her. His lips touched hers, skimmed the slope of her nose to her brow. He brought his body flush with hers, one arm holding him up while his other hand touched her cheek, a grazing caress of fingertips across the hollow.

Blue. All she saw was blue. Blue filled with such aching vulnerability.

“Bill.” It was a whisper of want, of need, of…

Laura eased her arms around him, one hand sliding up into his hair, the other to the center of his back. She pulled herself up to him and touched her lips to his. He kissed her back, a hand palming her neck.

Desire spiraling, cresting, she moaned three words into his mouth … “Just for you.”

And with that, her head fell back and she came undone.

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