Slide 33: A Time To Feel

There were no thoughts in Laura Roslin’s mind. Sensation had rendered it a useless organ. All she knew was pleasure, exquisite and acute, expertly and determinedly delivered by Bill Adama.

Mewls and moans, gasps and shuddering cries escaped her throat. Her fingers clutched at the bedding beneath her as he drove into her again and again. It was merciless and merciful, a deep, deliberate taking of her body with his.

The sounds, the smells, the feelings… she felt so much, not just physically. Tears slipped from her eyes, pushed to the surface by emotions she usually kept under wraps but that had been freed as he made love to her, frakked her, dissolved her self control and plunged her into a universe of liquid heat and colliding flesh.

Her hands reached for the ones that held her hips, that pulled her into each thrust. He took and took, driving them both to the edge of madness before stopping and letting it recede.

Laura panted, eyes closing in frustration and gratitude. She needed to breathe, tried to breathe. She failed when he leaned forward and kissed her, a hand sliding under her head angling her so he could plunge his tongue into the recesses of her mouth.

His breaths came in shuddering rasps when he suddenly pulled away. “I’m too old to be frakking like this,” he told her.

Laura’s response was lost when he kissed her again, stealing her words and banishing the thoughts that spawned them. His arms were under her, lifting her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, could only hold on as he resumed, slowly at first and then franticly. His kisses were passionate but flavored with an emotion that overrode all else, that welled up out of him and spilled into her. Her name was murmured hoarsely between each one, beseeching … he was searching for her, beckoning, willing her to meet him for the divine death and glorious rebirth that comes only in the rapture of the flesh.

Her head fell back as she moved with him, wanting what he wanted, needing it with a desperation that bordered on the irrational. Her nostrils were filled with the smell of them, her ears the sounds of their quickened breaths, erotic sounds of pleasure and the rhythmic clinking of his dog tags as the danced in the valley of her breasts.

She felt. She felt. She felt. Good. Wonderful. Sexy. So frakking full and…

“Bill!” she gasped when his control snapped suddenly. She just held on, panting as he…

He didn’t stop. Didn’t stop! He just kept…

“Gods… oh gods… please…”

Laura shattered. She broke into a million, billion pieces, reeled like a leaf caught in a whirlwind, riding a current of light and sensation. It carried her away … to somewhere. But she was not alone. She felt tender kisses and touches … Bill’s touches and kisses. They coaxed her back to her flesh, to herself.

Opening her eyes, she found his near. Blue.

His voice was a soft rasp. “There you are.”

Laura smiled up at him, touched trembling fingertips to his temple. Somewhere, somehow she found her own voice. “Hey.”

It was all she could manage, then and for some time after. Thoughts stayed away as well. She just lay quietly with Bill, listened to the sound of his deep, even breaths as he lay beside her, angled so that he could rest his head on her breasts. He was not asleep, though. His hand was idly stroking her legs, fingers tracing random patterns across her thighs, and his mouth occasionally dropped a kiss to whatever bit of skin he wished. Usually it was the side of her breast.

Eyes closed, Laura held him, just enjoyed being with him, thoughtless, her world one of feeling, the tangible and intangible. She smoothed one hand over the warm skin of his back while the other played with his hair. It was desperately intimate, she mused then pushed the thought aside. She didn’t want to go back to thinking just yet. She didn’t want to analyze what had happened between them, what they were doing now. She just wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

It was a long while, but pragmatic realities came to the fore eventually. Surprisingly, Bill was the first to acknowledge them, whispering a question.

“Are you warm enough?”

She was in fact and nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her. This prompted him to raise up on his elbow and look up at her. She felt his gaze on her before opening her eyes to meet it.

“Yes,” she told him, smiled when she asked in counter, “Why is that?”

He chuckled, slid his hand up her inner thigh and…

She inhaled quickly, softly.

“This might have something to do with it,” he grinned broadly.

“Yes,” she struggled to breathe, giggled in spite of her respiration difficulties. “And you called me insatiable,” she commented when he deposited yet another kiss to her breast, this one lingering until she moaned.

When his head lifted again, his eyes sought out his dog tags. They lay high on her chest, the beaded chain snaking in an uneven pattern against her skin. The metal seemed to warm under his scrutiny. Or maybe it was her. He clearly liked what he saw.

“Did you wear them all day?”

Her answer was an inarticulate “Mmm-hmm.”

“Good.” On the heels of his answer, he rolled onto his back, stretched out beside her. “Come here,” he commanded and she did, intending to snuggle at his side until he took the hand she rested on his chest and tugged, urging her atop him.

She blanketed him with her body and he guided her how he wanted her — her head resting on his shoulder, her face turned into his neck, her legs falling to the outside of his. One arm around her, hugging her close, he reached his other hand around the back of her thigh and found her warmth again.

Laura whimpered at the tenderness in his touch.

“All right?” he asked as he caressed her lazily.

Laura nodded, words failing her. They didn’t fail him. He whispered softly to her, telling her things, erotic things that made her want to melt all over again with him. His deep baritone uttered words she had never heard from him before, the kind of words that lovers use in shadows, ones you could not utter in the light of day and take seriously. But here, in the dark, they were powerful things, possessing the ability to turn a spark of desire into a raging inferno.

She would have never guessed and yet was not surprised that he would say such things to her. He hesitated only a few times in his litany but a moan or breathy “yes” from her was all the encouragement he needed to continue. And nothing could have stopped his sensual murmurings or leisurely ministrations when she began an erotic dance atop his body, falling naturally into the cadence of his words, the timbre of his voice. When it rose, her body rose against his. When it dipped low, she couldn’t get close enough.

Later she would reflect and acknowledge it was one of the most sensual and desperately intimate encounters in her life. But not now, not while her skin slid against his, not while his hand compelled her to surrender again, and definitely not when she was poised to do just that.

One, two, three heartbeats and she yielded, quivering and humming as wave after wave of pleasure filtered through her flesh. He held her as she rode them out, arms securing her against him. When she eased, he eased, pressing a kiss to her ear. He whispered a gentle question, asking her if she was all right, but she could do little more than mumble his name in response, a heavy languor having settled into her flesh, even her bones.

He chuckled in response and turned them both, bringing her to lay beside him. She forced her lids open enough to look at him as he reached and pulled the blankets up over them. When he saw her watching him, he flashed her a smile. Resettling, he gathered her close, kissed her gently then tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

That’s where she fell asleep and it’s where she would have liked to have woken early morning hours. Instead, she woke because Bill was easing out from under the covers. She protested with a soft groan. He patted her hip, explained, “The fire has gone out.”

Well, that explained why her backside was chilled. She knew her frontside would be soon as well if he didn’t hurry back, a thought that sparked a giggle when she considered that she was once again thinking of the admiral of the Colonial Fleet as her personal space heater. What made it funnier was he didn’t seem to mind and, in fact, had volunteered for the job two nights previous.

When her giggles continued, he finally asked, his tone tinged with amusement, “What now?”

Laura turned over to face him, sought out his shadowy form in the darkness, careful to keep her naked flesh beneath the blanket where there was some warmth. She countered his question with one of her own, trying to sound at least halfway serious when she asked, “Do you think the Admiralty would have approved of a former president using one of their officers to warm her bed?”

Bill laughed as he loaded wood into the stove and worked on lighting the kindling. “I’m sure it would raise some eyebrows.”

“And earn you a medal for initiative?”

He threw a look over his shoulder at her, a grin visible in the beginnings of firelight. “One look at those legs,” he nodded toward her, “and they’d call me a lucky bastard and promote me.”

Bill’s comment made Laura smile brightly. She knew she had good legs, had been told it often enough. But hearing Bill say he’d noticed, the obvious appreciation in his voice … it was like winning a lottery and it elated her, among other things.

“Like them, do you?” she teased, braving the cold air by slipping one out from under the blanket just long enough to catch his attention before tucking it back under.

He shook his head and went back to the fire, stoking the kindling to catch the short logs. “You’re incorrigible,” he laughed, added, “and should be careful since I’m an old man.”

Laura snorted, watched him close up the stove. Her eyes moved to the flames dancing behind the grating as he slipped back under the blankets behind her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her body back against his. Slipping his leg over hers, he cocooned her in his warmth.

Humming happily, Laura ran her hand over his forearm, dragged her nails lightly through the soft hairs there. He kissed her shoulder in response. They lay together for a while and Laura thought she might have dozed off, but she couldn’t say because she remained aware of her surroundings, of Bill and every inch of where their bodies touched, at least it seemed that way. She was also aware that he was awake, or as awake as she was. And he was thinking, a realization that made her smile.

“Bill?”

“Hmmm?” was his response.

She asked, “What are you thinking?”

His body shook with a silent chuckle. He nuzzled into her neck, whispered, “That I’m a lucky bastard.”

Laura laughed soft and low. Beneath the covers, his arm tightened around her and pulled her impossibly closer. She felt the extent of his luck, hummed her approval, her fingers curling around his arm, just above his elbow.

“Didn’t you say earlier that you were too old to be frakking like this?”

“I am,” he replied, moving closer still, bringing his head alongside hers. “But if you remember that, I need to work harder at turning off that brain of yours.”

Laura turned her head, he shifted so their mouths could meet. She kissed him softly, giggled as she did, murmuring between kisses, “If you work any harder, I’m not going to be able to walk. And I can just see Cottle’s reaction to that medical condition.”

Bill laughed. “You just don’t stop, do you?” he asked, mouth sliding across her cheek, down to her neck.

“It’s a curse,” she confessed, her tone turning serious. “I hate it sometimes. Even when I’m not thinking my brain picks up things and I think about them later. And not just important things. Sometimes it’s nonsensical things. Things no one should spend any amount of time thinking about.”

As she continued to ramble, Bill slid his hand down the front of her body, stopping her mid-sentence when it took up station low on her belly, just above…

“Do you think about this?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against her shoulder, the sound vibrating into her flesh.

Laura shivered, confessed, “Yes.”

For some reason, the admission made Laura blush. She wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t parochial by any stretch of the imagination. She was careful, conscious of image but she’d carried on an affair with a married man for years, the president of the then Twelve Colonies no less, for frak’s sake. Why would…

Bill’s hand slipped lower, stopping her train of thought. He whispered in her ear, “Tell me what you think about.”

Laura smiled at the question, eased her other arm from beneath the covers and reached back to feather her fingers into his hair. “Now who’s incorrigible?” she replied.

He let out a soft laugh, then breathed a soft breath in her ear. It carried words that sent a tingle all the way down her spine and spawned a quivering ripple in her insides, stealing away her breath. “You’re intoxicating.”

Somehow finding her voice, she whispered to him in kind three words. “So are you.”

“Turn over.”

She did and he guided her over him as he rolled onto his back. His hands left trails of fiery warmth as he slid them down her chest. She closed her eyes, threw her hair to one side, moved into his touch as she braced herself on an arm.

“Beautiful.” It was a reverent intonation prompting Laura to look down at him. She saw in his eyes… “Don’t think,” he entreated, a hand coming up to touch her face. “Just feel with me.”

Laura nodded, her hand dropping to his chest. She caressed him gently, her touch easing down and down until she reached her destination. His gaze held hers as she took him in hand and did not look away while she delighted him, mapping him with palm and fingers. Between then, his dog tags swung from her neck, clinked in a steady rhythm. His body undulated in time with it. He moaned and gasped, and he pushed up into her when she finally positioned him.

“Yes,” they said in unison when his hips met hers.

His hands took hold of her waist, held her firmly but gently as, together, they slowly, slowly, began moving, each move in perfect time, perfect counter. The simple, elegant beauty of it took Laura’s breath away, made her heart swell nigh on to bursting.

Bowing, she kissed her lover, hands holding his face as her lips claimed his again and again. His hands roved over her back, around to her breasts then up to her neck. Fingers stroked the length, the tenderness in his touch drawing soft sounds from her. He echoed each one that spilled into his mouth, against his lips.

Need grew, heated their exchange, intensified their movements. They followed the current, letting it take them where it willed. They didn’t try to calm it or temper it. They just let it be what it was and what it would be. What it was defied definition. There were no words in the heat of the moment, nor would there be any in the future that could adequately describe what Laura felt when Bill Adama suddenly came apart under her. His rough cry of her name, almost as anguished as rapturous, shot straight to her heart.

A hand siding under his head, she lifted him into her neck, offering him a haven. She felt his breaths hot and rapid against her skin. Then he was pleading with her. Two words, repeated again and again, “Cum, Laura. Cum, Laura,” until she had no choice but to grant his request, and fulfill her own desire. She came, her body jerking above his then stilling.

Soft kisses peppered the hollow of her throat. Slow, soft and warm. Loving kisses. Strong hands braced under her arms, thick fingers massaging her shoulder blades. Possessive, reverent. There were whispers, too, barely audible. Of her name … and other words.

Laura heard them and her heart leapt. She knew, had known, but to hear the words and know the truth of them, feel it in how he touched her just now…

Holding him to her, tears slipping from her eyes, Laura kissed his cheek, breathed, “I know.”

< Slide 32: Thinking | Slide 34: Shelter from the Storm >