Slide 24: Just Feel

Laura Roslin drew her feet up into the chair beside her and tried to get comfortable. It wasn’t easy. Suffice it to say, the seats of Galactica’s observation deck weren’t made for long-term occupation, and Laura had been in one for a good while, since returning from the surface of New Caprica.

New Caprica.

Laura grudgingly admitted that the name of the spinning planet below sounded inspiring and hinted at promise. But she felt neither inspired nor hopeful the planet would live up to Baltar and Co.’s billing, especially not when she was mere days away from settling.

All she felt at the moment was contemplative with more than a dash of anxiety thrown into the mix. The excitement she’d sometimes felt over the last few weeks as she prepared to launch the school was veiled as concerns for the future came to the fore once again. It seemed, no matter how hard she focused on the one positive aspect of her settlement, her fears persisted, sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach, heavy and impossible to ignore.

Upon returning to Galactica several hours earlier, they had weighed heavily on her. She hadn’t returned to Bill’s quarters as she usually did, needing some time to think. So she’d taken a walk, trekking the warship’s now-familiar corridors only to end up where she sat now, alone with her thoughts, anticipating and preparing herself for the life that awaited her down below.

In two days, she would be calling a canvas tent home, joining her people on a world that offered few amenities beyond solid ground, fresh water and air, and the occasional blue sky. Those weren’t bad things by any means but Laura wanted more for her people. They were due some comforts after so long on the run, after so much death and fear. And she wanted more for herself.

Wrapping her arms around her legs, Laura rested a cheek on her knees as her eyes continued to track the planet below. She sat that way for a long time, listening to the hum, clanks, creaks and groans of Galactica, and tried to clear her mind of the rampant thoughts and emotions, to center herself. It was a task that became immeasurably easier when a broad, warm hand came to rest on her back.

It was Bill’s. He’d entered quietly some time earlier, she’d heard him, but he’d kept his distance, giving her space. She appreciated it, as much as she appreciated his closeness now. If she was honest with herself, the latter was part of the more she wanted for herself.

Taking a slow, deep breath and an extended blink, Laura lifted her head and looked back over her shoulder at him. He sat in the chair beside her, blue eyes divining. His hand moved up, fingertips brushing at the strands of hair that dangled against her cheek.

“Bad day?” he asked, his voice a whispering rasp.

Laura flashed him a small smile. “Not really. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Laura shook her head. “Maybe later.”

He nodded, his hand moving away, but not before he delivered a gentle caress to her spine. His gaze turned then to the observation window and New Caprica. She took in his profile, admired the strength of it and adored the familiarity of it. She smiled when her eyes fell on his neatly trimmed mustache. It really looked good on him, and he seemed to be enjoying it — gods knew she was learning to appreciate it in ways that should have made her blush.

In the last few days, she had been shamelessly solicitous of his attentions, even going to his guest quarters just the night before under the guise of wanting to talk. Which they had, briefly, before she’d looked over at him and asked him to make love to her, stopping him in mid-sentence. He did, slowly, kissing her deeply, caressing every inch of her until she thought she would die from the intensity of what he’d made her feel.

Tonight, she wanted the same, knowing in the days to come that she would be without the comfort of his presence, the warmth and security he provided, that she felt when she was here, on his ship.

Laura was going to miss him, the easy companionship that they shared, the intensely tender intimacy that had become a part of many of their nights, that was deepening steadily even as she tried to maintain some distance, some perspective beyond that of a woman’s heart.

As her eyes continued to take him in, distance seemed woefully irrelevant. He was here, with her, a steady presence at her side in the shadows, warm and solid, her friend, her admiral … and her lover — that she could no longer deny without costing them something precious.

“I want you,” she heard herself saying suddenly, her voice an airy whisper.

His eyes found hers without fail and she saw in those blue depths the feelings she felt. He held his hand out to her, rumbled, “Let’s go.”

Had they been twenty or more years younger, they probably would have ran the distance to his quarters or, more likely, they wouldn’t have left the observation lounge at all. But they weren’t kids any more. Nor were they reckless or slaves to lust. So they settled for a decidedly leisurely stroll through the ship more befitting people of their age and status, as admiral and former president, and toward a bed that would be infinitely kinder to their bodies.

Arm looped through Bill’s, Laura fell into step beside him. There weren’t a lot of crew members moving about, prompting Laura to check her watch. It was late. She’d passed more time than she’d realized in the observation deck.

“I had the galley keep dinner warm,” Bill said softly.

She glanced over at him, found his eyes on her. “You haven’t eaten?” she asked.

He flashed her a crooked grin then cast his eyes forward again. “I’ve gotten used to the company.”

Laura smiled and reached her other hand over and gave his forearm a squeeze. “So have I,” she confessed. She kept her hand on him as they continued the journey to his quarters, rubbing her thumb across the rough material of his uniform jacket, relishing the heat that came from the firm flesh beneath.

Gods, she was looking forward to snuggling up next to him tonight. The man was a veritable furnace, albeit a comfortable one, and she was going to soak up as much of that warmth as possible before moving to New Caprica’s cold climes.

A throaty giggle suddenly erupted at her thoughts and she had to smother her laughter when she considered, in an unexpected burst of silliness, what his reaction would be if she asked him if he wanted to move to New Caprica to be her personal space heater.

Later, when they lay spooned in his bed, she actually asked him, though it didn’t come out quite as humorous as she’d intended or as it had been when she first thought it. In fact, amusement was nowhere near the question. It was a serious one, at least on some level. She knew he would not leave Galactica and she understood why, was glad he would be up here watching over them all, but a part of her…

It was selfish, extremely so, but it was getting increasingly difficult to resist the desire to seize something for herself, especially this something, her one true personal comfort in a universe gone awry.

She wasn’t surprised when Bill didn’t answer the question. He was a man of few words. He didn’t waste them, not when actions could speak with greater clarity. And his did, always. Even now, as he pulled her under him, moving over her with a smoothness that defied the narrowness of the bunk and their ages.

A deft hand brushed the mass of her hair aside, clearing the path for warm kisses to her shoulder, the back of her neck, her cheek as he stretched out over her, blanketing her in his warmth. “I’ll make you warm,” he told her, his tone thick, deep, lush … sex on a rush of heated air across her skin.

All thoughts of New Caprican cold, all anticipation of lonely nights receded as he made good on his promise, igniting a slow burn in her flesh.

Rising over her, he knelt and drew her up to kneel with him, bringing her into his lap. She leaned back against his chest, rested her head on his shoulder as his hands swept up her body, from her hips to her breasts. Laura let out a moan that came from somewhere around her toes as he cupped them, molded them, coaxed the peaks to tight buds. He pressed his cheek to hers, whispered, “You make me wish I was a younger man.” He kissed the side of her mouth. “Able to fill you all night.”

“I don’t think I could survive that,” Laura murmured truthfully, turning her head, mouth seeking his. He gave it to her, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw. He kissed her soft and slow and she enjoyed every moment of it, savoring his taste, the gentleness of his lips, the brush of his mustache.

Between kisses, he whispered, “You flatter an old man.”

“No,” she breathed into him, reclaiming his mouth as she curled an arm back and delved her fingers into his hair. With a moan, he dropped his hand from her face and eased it between her thighs. He cupped her and just held her as his mouth moved to her neck.

Laura luxuriated in being held in such an intimate embrace, at the erotic nature of it, at it being Bill who held her. It made her feel unbelievably sexy, provocative in ways she hadn’t thought of herself in a very long time. She liked it. She loved it. It made her long to be wanton, to set aside all reserve and enjoy fully being the object of a man’s desire … of Bill’s desire.

Something told her it would be unlike anything she’d ever experienced, to give in, that way, with him. Because he was so different from any other lover she’d had, and what was between them … an added dimension.

She wondered if it would shock him if she were to suddenly become a brazen seductress, if she were to offer herself with little doubt as to what she wanted. She wondered if he wanted her that way, her bold but decidedly tender lover.

Against her back, she could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She imagined she could hear his heartbeat, rapid and thundering in the broad cavern of his body, an echo of the labored breaths that graced the hollow of her throat as he carefully, deliberately pulled her hips flush with his.

Feeling his body’s response to her, she moaned his name, a smile curling her mouth.

Bill nuzzled her, whispering, “I think you’re in luck.”

“So are you,” she breathed, matching his tone as she leaned forward and braced herself on her hands.

Behind her, Bill went dead still with a harshly rasped, “Frak me.” Then came a kiss, sweet and gentle to the center of her back as he raised up behind her.

Laura’s eyes fell shut at the whisper of her name that followed. She quivered when broad hands began moving over her body, trembling even as they caressed with intent. He touched her everywhere, left no part of her unknown to his fingers. She moaned and gasped for him, moved into his touch, wanting and needing it, seeking to prolong it when possible. She melted under the shower of kisses that accompanied the blandishments of his hands. From her neck to her lower back, even the roundness of her bottom, his lips besieged her hypersensitive skin, conveying tenderness despite the naked desire in their caress.

Through it all, he spoke not a word except to sometimes hoarsely murmur her name between kisses. Each utterance did something to her, something unexpected, something she could not define. It stoked her desire to unprecedented heights filled her with a longing so deep, an ache so strong she feared it would end her.

And then he was pushing inside her with a groan, quick and hard, rocking her forward in his excitement. Laura gasped at the sudden sense of fullness, hung her head as he leaned over her, struggled to breathe as his hands found hers.

“Laura Roslin,” came that baritone she adored, tremulous and heavy with desire, with need, with…

He took her then, powerfully, making her call out to him with each meeting of his hips to hers. It was overwhelming, the strength of him, the need which so perfectly matched her own. She moved with him, in counter, accepting, giving, taking, receiving. It was like being caught in the swift current of a river, inhibition swept away, carried downstream as they surged upward, toward their destination of bliss.

Laura threw her head back and urged him on. She let go, basked in her sexuality, in the need to be claimed and to claim. She begged for completion. She demanded it and he supplied, sending her vaulting into ecstasy with a final, reaching thrust that left him spilling inside her with a rapturous cry of her name.

In the aftermath, Bill’s head rested on her back and one of his arms had come up to wrap around her waist. She covered it with her own as they each held themselves up on a quivering arm.

“Gods, Bill,” Laura panted, eyes shut as she tried to steady her breathing and calm her racing heart. Sweat coated her skin and yet she felt so hot. And he was so hot. Heat radiated off him as if he were a sun.

“All right?” he asked as she trembled.

Laura nodded. “Hot,” she whispered.

There was a smile, against her shoulder. “Told you I’d make you warm.”

Laura smiled and let out a soft giggle. “Mmm, so you did.” She stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, made a quiet confession, “I enjoyed that.”

“So did I.”

The words were simple but uttered with a softness that sparked a joy that Laura hadn’t anticipated. Her heart fluttered with it and her flesh quivered deep within. Bill moaned in response, slowly sat back on his haunches, taking her with him, his other arm coming up to wrap her in an embrace. He hooked his chin over her shoulder, craned to kiss her cheek.

“I’ve wanted you like that,” he murmured against her skin. “So frakking sexy.”

Laura turned her head. He touched his lips to hers as she whispered, “I’m glad you think so.” His kiss was gentle and affectionate, almost chaste, a stark contrast with what they’d just done. And yet not. It was entirely Bill. There was something innately alluring in how he went from one extreme to another, in how he could frak her wildly one minute and kiss her as if he were a love-struck schoolboy the next.

Resting her hands atop his, arms draping over his, she sighed and leaned back against him fully. He held her, pressed his cheek to hers. He was happy. She could feel it. It was in how he held her, in the smile that bunched the muscles of his cheek. And, she knew, the sex was only a part of it. This moment, here, in the wake of passion, when he could hold her closer than any other time, was when his joy was most palpable. It was almost a physical entity, a cocoon that Laura gladly inhabited with him and longed to stay in forever. It was peaceful and safe, quiet and warm — everything she wanted for the rest of her days.

But New Caprica awaited and the cylons … they were out there somewhere in the vast, cold emptiness of space searching and planning. What peace her people found here would be hard won and fleeting.

With a sigh, Laura closed her eyes, disclosed, “I don’t want to go.” It wasn’t really a secret. She knew Bill was aware of how she felt about settling on this planet she believed meant disaster for her people. But she said it anyway, aloud, for the first time.

Bill took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Laura clutched at his hands when she felt his smile dissipate. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, upset with herself that she’d ruined the mood.

Laura hated that she couldn’t permanently evict her worries and fears and just relax, and resented the sense of duty and responsibility that tied her to them. There hadn’t been many times in her life when Laura longed to live utterly carefree, without obligation or accountability, but now was one of them. It was a sentiment that only grew stronger when Bill tightened his hold on her and brushed a kiss to her cheek before easing from her body.

Empty. That’s what she felt as he began moving away.

Laura caught his hands and stopped him, drew them up to her face, brushing kisses to the pads of his fingers, then nuzzling against them, pressing her cheek into the cradle of his palms.

“Laura.” It was a tender whisper in her ear, against the sensitive skin of her neck. He pressed his chest to her back again and she felt the body-warm metal of his dog tags against her spine. After a few moments, he commanded, “Turn around.”

Laura did so, with his help and found herself pressed against the bulkhead at the back of his bunk and his mouth making slow love to hers. Gentle fingers invaded her depths, sank to the hilt while an attentive thumb took station at the most sensitive of places. Laura gasped into him, arched.

“Yes,” he approved.

She looked up into his eyes, dark and … so dark…

“Don’t think,” he commanded. “Feel.”

Her hands closed around his upper arms, pressed into the muscled flesh, held on as he stroked inside her, tender caresses, purposeful, loving. She trembled and quaked, moaned and hummed. Tears formed and her lungs burned. Those blue eyes held her rapt, a prisoner … his prisoner.

“Bill,” she whimpered, unprepared for the sudden onslaught of emotion that thought elicited.

“Yes,” he whispered and kissed her brow, murmured against her sweat-slick skin, “I want you to cum for me.” He kissed her cheek, murmured in her ear, “Will you cum for me, Laura?”

There was only one answer and it did not come in the form of words, but in giving him what he asked of her. She shuddered with it, her body jerking against him as her nails bit into his arms.

His mouth took hers, swallowed her gasp, plundered until she was dizzy from lack of oxygen and had to wrench away. He gave her no respite, his mouth dropping to mark her neck as she drew in great, sucking breaths.

Her hands reached up, fisted in his hair. He bit her neck and her shoulder. His fingers continued to play, soothing and enticing in turn after turn, keeping her on a plateau she would have believed impossible to scale before this moment.

Sensation precluded all thought. She shut her eyes and yielded … everything … with a breathy whisper of his name, an utterance so ethereal she did not recognize her own voice. He gentled immediately, kisses turning soft, lingering in the indentation of her collarbone, skimming lightly up the side of her neck.

“Beautiful,” he breathed as his lips slipped over hers.

She hummed, kissed him back, her hands dropping languidly down to his shoulders, caressing his upper back. He took her to the crest again, eased her there and she slipped over it gently, riding a slow, flooding wave of pleasure and peace.

Eyes closed, Laura drifted in the ether of sexual satiation, pliant to her lover as he eased her down to the mattress and gathered her close.

The steady beat of his heart beneath her ear lulled her further. She heard him whispering to her, soft words, and his voice was like warm silk sliding across her skin, raising gooseflesh, making her tremble and moan and arch.

His hand followed the line of her body, down her torso to her hip. He pulled her against him and she moaned and writhed, her body hyperaware of his, her mind lost somewhere between sleep and orgasm, her heart rising high in her chest. She wanted, needed … she had.

A gentle hand cradled her face. Soft lips touched hers. Bill.

Sweet kisses. Bill’s kisses. His hands. His fingers. His mouth.

A soft sigh, her body rising to catch her lifting heart.

“Bill…”

He was under her, his hands in her hair, drawing through the tangled locks, caressing her head, her neck. Soothing .. arousing … shattering.

Her body shuddered then stilled. She hummed long and deep. Strong arms came around her, cradled her, and she rested.

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