Slide 26: Last Night

In warmth of lamp light, Laura Roslin ran her hand over Bill Adama’s arm, humming softly as she did so. They were cuddled close in his bed, he propped against the bulkhead, his few pillows bracing his back, while she curled in his lap, leaned against his broad chest, head resting on his opposite shoulder.

For some time, they’d been exactly where they were now, quiet and content, enjoying just being close after a round of lovemaking that still had the power to make her tremble whenever she thought about it, which was frequently. The irony is all they’d done was touch, and kiss, indulging the need for tactile sensation above all else. It was something they had wanted tonight, both of them, on the eve of her move to New Caprica.

Even now, his fingers were drawing rhythmically through her hair, diverting every now and then to slide across her skin, wherever he chose. Usually it was her back or arm, but sometimes he would touch her cheek, fingertips brushing across her cheekbone.

He did that just now and Laura tilted her head back to look at him, found him looking her. He gave her an easy smile. He bent toward her and Laura closed her eyes, accepted his kiss.

It was slow and lush, deepened gradually until Laura could no longer resist the impulse to reach up, grasp the back of his head, and hold him tightly to her as tongue lathed tongue. This kind of kissing with Bill was a religious experience, she’d discovered. At least it made her feel divine.

All day, she’d wanted this with him, closeness, passion, intimacy. And he’d given it to her on this, her last night aboard Galactica.

He was still giving, a firm hand splayed around the back of her head, tilting it further so that he could kiss her even deeper. A throaty hum rose in her chest and she quaked against him, her back arching, fingers fisting in his hair.

“Bill,” she gasped when he suddenly pulled his mouth from hers.

He didn’t say a word, only eased her down onto the bed, somehow managing to move over her as he did. She wrapped her arms around him, hands sliding over his back as his mouth fell into the hollow of her neck.

Kisses, soft and slow, seared her skin. Teeth scraped along her collarbone. A clever tongue explored the dip in her throat. Hands, sure and strong, reached for her legs, wrapping around her thighs, pulling them up quickly to his hips, bringing her knees up to touch his sides.

Laura was about to be taken and she was delirious at the prospect, threw her head back and offered him encouragement in the form of an all-but-shouted “Frak, yes!”

This made him laugh. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even pause. He just sank into her, taking her breath and sanity. She didn’t care, breathing and mental health were inconsequential at the moment.

Beneath him, she panted and moaned as he brought his chest fully against hers. His breath, equally labored, rushed across her face. She opened her eyes and looked up into his inexplicably blue ones. He watched her with a mixture of amusement and wonder … and such knowing. He touched her cheek, cradling it in a warm palm, his expression softening as he whispered, “I’ll miss you.”

At his confession, Laura’s heart thudded against her ribs so hard she thought they might crack. She took his face in her hands, closed the distance to his mouth with hers, kissed him gently with a murmured, “Me, too.”

As she lay her head back, he followed, captured her lips with his and kissed her tenderly. With a soft moan, she swept her thumbs across his cheeks, up to his temples, gripping him firmer when he began rocking into her below.

With a slow, gentle determination, he made love to her and she him. He rained kisses over her face, glided hands over her skin in eloquent expressions of passion … and other feelings, deeper ones, undeniable ones. They swept over and through her and she returned them in kind, lips and fingers laying claim to every part of him she could reach.

When he pushed himself up on his arms, she rushed to run her hands over his chest and belly, stroke his sides before possessing the arms she’d admired earlier in the day. As she did, his eyes seized hers, held her rapt, compelling her to keep time with him in the dance of lovers.

Lovers. Yes, they were definitely that. And more than.

Laura watched him as he moved above her, eyes drifting from his briefly from time to time to take in the flexing of their bodies, where they were joined. But always they came back to his gaze, unable to stay away from the things she saw there, from who she saw there.

“Bill,” she breathed, hands gripping his upper arms, holding to him as they approached that moment of unique, cataclysmic joy. She wanted it. Needed it. With him. Tonight. Now. Forever.

“Yes,” was his response, a strained whisper that resonated in ways that Laura had never known before him.

She reached for his face, hands pulling him down to her. He came without pause, descending into her kiss, one that said everything she could not. It undid him, undid them both when he returned it in exact measure, the outpouring of feeling too much and yet not enough.

With a groan of her name, he gathered her in his arms, pulling her against him even as his weight fell upon her. He didn’t stop. Neither did she. Their bodies continuing to work, seeking and reaching for the more they wanted, needed.

Laura buried her face in his neck, hoarse breaths, moans and whispers tattooing his skin. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“Never,” he rasped, a hand sinking into her hair. He held her head to him, kissed her neck, bit her shoulder, then cried out when her body shuddered suddenly and fiercely, taking him again while his name fell from her lips in a shout of undisguised adoration.

A while later, Laura lay spooned against his back, a hand idly caressing his chest and belly. She had dozed in and out for a while but not fallen into a deep sleep. Neither had Bill. She could tell from his breathing that he was relaxed but awake. She didn’t know what kept him that way, but she knew what had prevented her from drifting off — at least partly.

Pressing a kiss to Bill’s shoulder, she whispered, “I know it’s cliche, but I’m starving.”

She laughed when he laughed. He stretched an arm up, reaching for the comm handset above the bed.

“What do you want?”

“Food.”

He laughed again as he brought the headset to his ear and asked for the galley. He ordered them to send something light, whatever was easy to fix, and some coffee.

As he talked, Laura, feeling suddenly mischievous, slipped her hand down beyond his belly to more excitable terrain. He stopped what he was saying mid-sentence and she had to bury her face in his shoulder to keep her giggles from ringing out. He took a deep breath then continued.

After hanging up the handset, he eased his hand under the sheets and caressed her forearm as she stroked him.

“You live dangerously, Roslin,” he rumbled.

Between giggles, Laura kissed his shoulder again, then bit at it lightly, murmured, “Mmm, you feel good.” And he did, warm, velvety smoothness over firm flesh. He wasn’t fully aroused. Not even close. Age was a factor for him, and herself, in that department but he was responsive. She liked that, knowing she could have that effect, and, frankly, that she was free to touch him. She enjoyed it and so did he, making soft rumbling sounds whenever she touched a particularly sensitive spot.

After several minutes, he stilled her though, reminding her that someone from the galley would be arriving any time now with the food she wanted. Damn his pragmatic streak, she thought, then giggled yet again.

He bought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm, then leisurely licked her index finger, effectively turning her giggles into a gasp. “Behave,” he whispered as he slowly eased from under the covers and sat up on the side of the bed.

Laura admired his backside, as firm as that of a man half his age, as he rose and picked up his robe from the chair at his desk. He shrugged the garment on and secured the belt around his waist. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in his tousled hair and the knowing softness of his expression when he turned to look at her.

For the span of a few breaths, he neither moved nor said a word, just looked at her. Then, slowly, he dragged his gaze along her body, from head to toe, feasting boldly on the sight of her in his bed, amongst the tangled bedcovers and strewn pillows.

Laura heated and trembled under the scrutiny but didn’t move otherwise except to draw what covers had fallen across her away, letting him see all of her, wanting him to see all of her and remember. The experience was one of the most erotic moments of her life, the air between them thick with sensual energy as the deepest emotions that always flowed between them flared to life.

Laura had no idea what would have happened had someone not knocked on the hatch before either of them could react to the rising tide, but it would have been incredible, she knew that without a shadow of a doubt. Which is why she so reluctantly drew the covers back over her and eased into the shadows of his bunk while he went to fetch their suddenly unwelcome food.

She watched as he took the tray from the soldier at the door, not letting anyone inside. Then, once the hatch was closed, she rose and sought out her robe. Slipping it on, she ran her fingers through her mussed hair and joined him at he table.

As she began diving into the simple plate of bread and cheeses, Bill poured her a mug of coffee.

“I asked the chief to install the stove in your tent,” he said as he handed the steel cup to her.

Laura paused in mid-bite. “You’re not going to do it?”

He gave a chuffing laugh. “I’m no engineer,” he quipped then explained. “He expressed an interest. Liked the idea enough he requested permission to inventory the scrap metal on board Galactica and Pegasus to see how many can be made.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “Enough for everyone?”

“Don’t know.” He picked up his coffee. “But I’ve given him leave to pursue it.”

“You provide people with heat down there and you’re going to be elevated to the status of the gods,” she told him. “At the very least, you’ll be a viable candidate in the next election.”

He gave a scoffing “huh” as he brought the mug to his lips and sipped.

Laura sat aside the cracker she’d been about to eat and confessed the thoughts running through her mind as she considered what Bill and the chief had just set into motion. “You know, before the cylon attack, I have to admit, I didn’t have much of an understanding of the military. My knowledge was limited to say the least. But what you and your people do beyond manning the guns of this ship and its planes to protect us from the cylons … it’s simply extraordinary.”

Bill’s reply was succinct, his expression matter-of-fact. “It’s what we’re trained to do.”

“Clearly, but it’s no small thing, Bill. That you think about things such as creature comforts for the civilians below … I’m sure it would come as a surprise to many.”

“To you?” The question was serious, but he cocked his head in the most endearing way when he asked, making Laura smile.

“No, not me,” she told him, shaking her head gently. And she meant it. She had seen firsthand the selflessness that the men and women in uniform aboard Galactica were capable of, and how they expected nothing in return. But the civilians… “I know better now, but I don’t think the people realize how much they owe all of you.”

Laura watched his expression become one she’d seen before, under a tarp on a rainy day on Kobol, when he replied softly, “No more than we all owe you.”

Though she hated to admit it, humility was not something Laura had always had in her life, but Bill Adama had a knack for making her feel the humblest of the humble when he looked at her that way and said things like that. She felt unworthy of that degree of admiration but it touched her deeply that he felt it and robbed her of words.

Looking down at the cracker she’d abandoned eating moments ago, she toyed with it, fingers turning it. She felt Bill’s gaze on her but didn’t meet it, didn’t feel strong enough to look up into those blue-blue eyes and see the gratitude there, not tonight, and she knew he wouldn’t push her.

The remainder of the meal passed in comfortable silence, which once again reminded Laura of how much she was going to miss his companionship. There would be others on the surface, people she knew, but no one with whom she had the same level of ease or trust, not even close. She was going to be lonely, and so was he.

But not tonight. Not if she had anything to say or do about it.

Her plate cleared, Laura rose and took the few steps necessary to bring her to his side, relishing the freedom to do so. Warmth and a wild fluttering filled her flesh when she reached out and gently ran her hand through his hair while he still sat, finishing his coffee. The action caused him to pause in lifting his cup.

Laura watched his eyes close, smiled then bowed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, lingering just long enough to flutter her fingertips through the gentle curls at his nape. He trembled noticeably and she watched the wrinkles at the corner of his right eye smooth into relaxation. It still amazed her that she affected him so profoundly when she touched him. Sometimes, she wondered if anyone had ever touched him with any measure of tenderness or true caring for him at all. That thought always saddened her but it also sparked in her a burning desire to give him those things, honestly, especially since he so readily gave the same to her.

Nuzzling into his hair, she pressed another kiss to his scalp and slipped her hand beneath the collar of his robe to rub his neck. With her other hand, she touched his cheek, brushing the backs of her fingers through the emerging salt-and-pepper stubble. The faint rasping sound caused by the caress made her breath catch. His pliancy made her heart patter.

In that moment she considered that the most powerful man in the universe was hers to conquer. It was vanity to even think it, and there was some question as to whether it was even true. His power was not in doubt, personally or professionally — he was powerful in both respects. Rather, it was the who-was-conquering-who part that was in question for, in conquering him, she would be conquered. Or perhaps she already had been. She honestly didn’t know and ultimately it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about conquest, winning or losing. This was about giving and receiving, offering and taking, a connection between two souls who understand and accept one another and who are in need of the healing that connection offered.

In testament to that, when Laura slowly dropped to her knees beside him, he turned in the chair to face her. Placing her hands on his thighs, Laura eased between them, looked up into his eyes. The way he looked at her … the wonder, the hunger, the gratefulness … someone had woefully neglected him and his needs. The thought made her ache in more ways than she could count.

Hands rising, she caressed his face, watch him take a languid half-blink as her palms glided slowly downward, to his neck, his chest, over the beginnings of the scar that bisected his upper torso. Her fingers traveled on, tracing along the lapel of his robe down to the belt. Deftly, she undid the knot he’d tied earlier and then parted the thick material. She returned her hands to his flesh then, exploring the expanse of his chest, his thickening middle, delighting in being so intimately familiar already with every part of him she touched.

Leaning forward, she kissed the once-firm ridges of his abdomen, her hair spilling out around his lap. Inevitably, his hands sank into the long strands, fingers finding her head and holding her gently as she rained soft touches of her lips over his skin.

Through it all, the only sound she heard was his hitching breaths. Then her mouth found that part of him and he could no longer remain silent, her name erupting from him in a raspy gasp of what could only be described as ecstasy.

He wasn’t really ready yet — she didn’t know if he would be at all — but it didn’t matter. She took him in and he responded by running his thumb across the puffing of her cheek. The tenderness in the caress was present in his voice when he breathed, simply, “Beautiful.”

Laura’s heart skipped a beat at hearing it, threatened to cease beating altogether when he continued the touch, encouraging her with a litany of whispered things. Pushing aside thought, she fell into cadence with his voice, into a pace that was undeniably one of loving, eventually reducing him to unintelligible mumbles and moans and her a steady stream of hums.

And then he was drawing her up, big, gentle hands cradling her face, a rumbling plea penetrating the haze of euphoria that held her. “Come up here.” Three words, simple but filled with the same need that suffused his flesh under her ministrations.

Laura heeded it, drunk on joy and desire. She rose and he helped her, hands moving to her waist and then the belt on her robe. Undone, the ends drifted away. The rest of the garment followed as she shrugged it from her shoulders to fall in a satiny puddle at her feet.

“Bill,” she groaned as her breasts became his playground. She dove her fingers into his hair and threw her head back, her world dissolving into acute, unrelenting sensation as he kissed and suckled until she was wavering on her feet.

Grasping her hips, he drew her body to his, steadied her then launched his hands over her back. His touch was possessive, fingers flexing and stroking their way from her shoulders to her behind, down to her thighs, and up again.

Laura’s knees buckled under the onslaught but Bill caught her, hands under her arms, pulling her inexorably toward him, taking her weight so she could regain her feet. When she did, she wrapped her arms around him, her mouth alighting on his in a series of soft, passionate kisses. She tucked her face into his neck with a moan of need as his hands moved over her skin, still so possessive, gasping her bottom, kneading while he sucked a spot on her neck.

“Bed,” she finally managed to articulate when she felt her knees going spongy again.

“Mmm,” was his response, that and to ease her back from him. He stood and, to her surprise, picked her up, lifting her by the waist. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him and held on. Were she not so aroused, she probably would have giggled as he zig-zagged with her to his rack, stopping once to brace her against the bulkhead. As it was, she couldn’t bear to take her mouth from his for more than a second or two, just long enough to draw in a breath, and even then…

“Gods!” she gasped when he sat on the bed, lifted her from his lap, then pulled her down onto his desire, hard and quick. They both stilled instantly, blue and green eyes meeting in the shadows of their faces.

Emotion rising, Laura took his head in her hands, whispered, “I…” She couldn’t finish her thought, the words fleeing as her throat tightened and her heart vaulted in her chest.

His expression was tender, loving as he eased gentle hands up her back and under the mass of her hair. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck then stroked his thumbs along each side when he murmured, “I know.”

Laura kissed him. She didn’t know what else to do and it felt right as their mouths melded slowly, softly. She held his face the entire time, thumbs brushing the corners of his eyes, his cheekbones. When they finally came up for air, she arched her back, gripped him within.

“Yes,” he rasped, burying his face in her neck.

Wrapping a hand behind his head, she cradled him to her. He felt so good. This felt so good. The closeness, the intimate knowing of him. The being in perfect sync with this man who knew her in every way and who accepted her without condition.

Gods, she didn’t want leave this, him. This was their elysium fields, their peace. She needed it. He needed it. Even without the cylons breathing down their neck, this was what they needed, wanted, had earned. Hadn’t they? If the civilians could have their New Caprica, couldn’t they have this?

Such selfish thoughts, but inevitable ones, especially this night. She could not help but entertain them and she would have what she wanted. They both would. Frak everything and everyone else. Frak it all.

Bringing her lips to Bill’s ear, Laura whispered the desire of her heart, heard her voice break as she confessed with absolute certainty, “I want you, Bill.”

In response, he hugged her closer and murmured hoarsely three words that filled her with a surfeit of joy.

“You have me.”

< Slide 25: Last Day | Slide 27: Cold and Consequences >