Haven II

He waited for her at the appointed place, in the stand of trees just outside the tent city that was set up on the muddy, graveled plain. His green poncho let him blend in with the surroundings — not that it mattered. It was raining so heavy at the moment that Bill could barely make out the tents and he was fairly sure there was no one else out in this mess, which made him wonder if she’d changed her mind.

He couldn’t say he’d blame her if she had — this weather wasn’t even fit for cylons — but he knew that was unlikely, as unlikely as his leaving, even if he was pryeobably going to catch cold and need about a year to feel warm again.

He grinned over the latter. That wasn’t very likely either considering the ways she had of warming him up. In fact, just the thought of a few of those had him warming already.

He let out soft chuckle and a patch of fog went with it, advertising New Caprica’s other luxury — cold.

The frakking planet had three weather settings apparently: wet, cold, or wet and cold. As for sunshine, reports indicated it came only in short, irregular intervals, and it wasn’t all that warm thanks to the planet’s orbit.

He didn’t know how Laura could stand it down here all the time.

True it was always cool aboard space vessels, but not like this, and never being dry … that he didn’t think he could take at all.

Damp cold had a way of getting into the bones and not leaving. And he was fairly sure the sparsity of clear skies and sunshine would get to him after a while.

New Caprica was like some big cosmic tease and teases always grew tiresome in time, some sooner than others, and this one would get old quick for him. The fact the planet could not deliver what it seemed to promise would be enough to assure that.

Taking a glance at his watch, he frowned. She was late. That worried him. She was never late.

He supposed he could head into the settlement to find her. He knew where her tent was and, with the hood pulled up over his head and his cap, if he kept his head down, no one was likely to recognize him, especially not in this deluge. Anyone with any sense would be inside.

But he wasn’t ready to risk it just yet. He’d wait a bit longer before he made that walk and took the chance of exposing the change in their relationship to the so-called president and his cronies whom Baltar’d seen fit to house near her to spy on her. The frakker was completely paranoid that Bill and Laura were plotting the destruction of his government.

The thought made Bill want to laugh. The only destruction they had planned was killing off a few brain cells with those herbal cigarettes she stashed in her cleavage and working off some calories in their recently initiated exercise regimen, as Laura had jokingly called it one night.

Remembering that conversation, held in the warmth of his bed aboard Galactica, did make him laugh. She was full of sass when she had a mind to be, when she didn’t have a care in the world but living for the moment.

Lucky for her, he liked sass.

Eyes scanning the horizon, he saw something moving, then caught a flash of red near the ground. She was wearing that dress under the poncho. He grinned. He liked that dress on her.

Seeing her lose her footing on the slick ground, he ditched his smile and quickly moved out of the cover of the trees and met her. His heart leapt at the feel of her hand sliding into his proffered one and at how she used it to steady herself as she continued walking.

She looked up at him with a “thank you” and he noted her glasses lenses were rain-spotted and her face wet, and that her hood had fallen back at some point because strands of her hair were plastered to her cheeks. But her smile was bright, her eyes dancing.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as he ushered her toward the trees. It was wet there, too, but the forest canopy did offer some shield from the driving rain. “I had to take some tests to Tory for her to grade. Got to the school and there was a parent there with questions about the curriculum.”

“That’s okay,” he said as they ducked under some branches and began their trek through the woods toward their destination — the raptor he’d piloted to the surface. It wasn’t far and he’d flown in low through the mountain range and over the lake to avoid visual detection by anyone in the encampment.

He wasn’t keen on the subterfuge needed for them to meet, but he rather enjoyed whenever he got to stretch his wings, as it were. Between this weather and the terrain, it was an exhilarating experience and made him miss being in the cockpit.

“We just need to get a couple things from the raptor,” he informed her.

“Please tell me you brought real food because if I eat one more of those frakking boiled root things this week, I’m going to do something very unladylike,” she said, her tone one of childlike hope.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I brought you real food … and a surprise.”

“If it’s a three-day weekend at a full-service, professionally staffed, five-star luxury spa, I’m going to kiss you into next week,” she replied.

His grin broaden at the prospect, but he tried to set her expectations, “It’s not that extravagant but you’ll like it.”

“Hmmm” was her response, then, “indoor plumbing?”

“No,” he laughed.

“Dry socks?”

Another chuckle. “No, but I have a pair you can borrow in my bag.”

“Thank you,” she replied, then continued the guessing game. “Is it chocolate?”

“I don’t think there’s any chocolate left in the fleet.”

She huffed as she made her way over the leaf-littered terrain. “Gods, I’d kill for chocolate.”

“That’s a little extreme,” he said, helping her over a series of bared tree roots.

She cut her eyes at him. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had chocolate?”

“A while, I take it.”

“So long I can barely remember what it tastes like, and that’s a scary thing, Bill,” she confessed then moved on ahead of him, tossing over her shoulder, “How about a new president then? We could really use one of those down here, you know.”

Chuckling, he moved to catch up with her as she traipsed off through the trees, making more guesses.

“Is it a 1,000 cubit shopping spree at Caprican Heights?”

He stepped around the puddle she dodged, shaking his head. “No.”

“Frak, my wardrobe could really use it.”

Reaching her, he slipped his hand into hers. She looked over at him. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is being a woman on this hellhole with no malls?”

“You look good,” he assured her but she wasn’t buying it, even though he meant it. She gave him the school-teacher look over the rim of her glasses.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love this dress, but refugee chic isn’t really a good look for anybody for the long term,” she told him. “And it shouldn’t be your only look.”

“I can’t see you in a mall.”

It was true. He’d been to a few with Carolanne and the boys and he just could not picture Laura amongst the food-plaza denizens, kiosks and cramped shops. Those places were too much like a zoo, populated by tantrum-throwing kids and strutting teens, and the wares he’d seen just didn’t seem like they’d suit her natural elegance. If she’d been his wife, he’d have broke the bank to keep her in the finest stuff around because you don’t put a cheap frame on a masterpiece.

She waved her hand dismissively at his statement as she walked on. “I preferred boutiques. Their sales were better and they had custom styles, but right now, I’d take a mall.”

Tightening his hold on her hand, he altered their course, bringing an end to her queries and commentaries, and earning a question look.

“I landed in a different place today,” he told her, lacing their fingers, then explained to her raised eyebrow, “I needed to be closer.”

Her eyes widened and he could see her brain processing the possibilities. “You didn’t?” she said after a moment, making him grin.

“I did.” And with that, he drew her behind him, giggling.

“Oh my gods. How did you… in this rain…?” she asked as her quick mind processed the logistics.

“Tarp,” he replied, knowing she’d wondered how he’d kept the surprise dry.

Another question. “But how did you get it on the raptor without questions?”

That had been the hard part, but not too difficult considering he outranked everyone on his ship and, if he chose to give the entire flight deck crew a break at the same time, that was his prerogative. “I’m the admiral,” he said smugly, prompting her to slip her hand from his and tuck it in the crook of his arm, beneath the poncho.

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Have I told you lately how glad I am I promoted you?”

It was a tease and yet not. He heard the earnestness that underlay the question and cast her a smile of understanding. But he said nothing, just led her the remaining distance to the raptor.

“Wait here,” he said as he stepped up on the side of the craft and opened the hatch. Ducking in, he grabbed the two duffles from the deck and slung their long straps over his shoulders then picked up a mid-sized satchel. When he came back out, he passed the satchel down to her then resealed the hatch.

Dismounting, he took her hand again, lacing their fingers, and walked her through the rain to their final destination, careful of the wet leaves and rocks that made footing treacherous in spots.

He let her lead the way through the crevice in the rock facing, then followed after un-shouldering the duffles, holding one in front of him and one behind in order to make it through the narrow passage.

Entering the small cavern, he was greeted with a faint light from the natural skylight and the fall of rain into the hot pool below. It filled the small cave with the sound of tinkling splashes and some tendrils of steam rose from the surface.

Bill set his burdens down with a sigh as Laura lit the lantern and set it on the small boulder. He watched her take in the surprise — which wasn’t so much of a surprise any more, he supposed — then look over her shoulder at him. “That’s going to be much more comfortable.”

“Yeah,” he agreed then began working his poncho up and off. “So will getting out of these wet clothes.”

As he tossed the rain-slick garment aside, just inside the entrance to the cave but away from the fire circle from their previous visits. He noted the large bundle of wood he’d gathered during their last stay remained, which was good considering the tender outside would be entirely too wet to catch flame.

Hearing Laura swear softly, he looked over to see her struggling with the poncho as it tried to cling to the red dress. He went over and helped her, wrestling the poncho free. “You’re soaked,” he commented.

“A wind caught it,” she explained.

He noted her beginning to shiver. “You should take that off. I’ve got something you can put on to keep warm while I get the fire started.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Good. I’ll get it for you.”

While she proceeded to unwrap herself from her soaked clothing, he put her poncho with his then retrieved the bags he’d brought in. He edged around the boulder and set them over by the foot of the mattress, but not too close since they were wet. He opened one and then the other, looking for the pair of sweat pants and the workout jacket with a hood. He’d packed both, knowing the weather on the surface. They were military issue, bearing patches of Galactica’s seal. Finding them, he pulled them out and set them on the boulder for her.

“They’re gonna be big on you,” he said, as he snagged a pair of socks, too, then righted himself. “But they’ll keep you…,” his voice trailed off briefly when he turned and his eyes fell on his naked-from-the-waist-up lover, “…warm.”

“Warm is good,” she replied, the material moving ever downward to reveal her legs.

They were gorgeous and the sight of them, along with the occasional glimpse of her swaying breasts, warmed him in ways neither of them was quite ready to indulge. But he definitely agreed with her assessment. Warm was very good.

To distract himself from her and the rise of desire, he went over to kindle a fire. He used his father’s lighter to ignite the lichen and watched and tended it until the branches caught in the flame.

“So, were you a Caprican Wilderness Boy?”

He chuckled at Laura’s question. “Yeah. For a year,” he confessed then glanced to see her zipping up the jacket.

Instinctively, his eyes traveled over her, appreciating the sight of her in his clothes, his body stirring further. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t like seeing a woman that way — wearing something of his and looking frakking sexy while doing it. And Laura did look that, and then some, even though both articles of clothing were sized for his broader frame and fairly hung on her.

He nodded to her, “Going to be warm enough?”

She smiled, said with that sass he loved well, “Mmmm, you keep looking at me like that and warmth will not be an issue no matter what I wear.” She then lifted her hands and pushed her sodden mass of hair back, asking, “You didn’t happen to pack a towel, did you?”

He smiled at both her assessment of his appraisal of her and the question. “A couple. In the bag nearest the mattress.”

He watched her retrieve one then sit cross-legged on the mattress and begin rubbing her hair briskly. She’d put on the socks, he noted.

Adding a bit more wood to the fire to hold it for a while, he then joined her, picking up the satchel he’d given her earlier as he passed.

“Have the food in here,” he told her, as he sat and began taking off his boots. He set them out of the way, thankful the water hadn’t gotten in and soaked his socks.

“Mmmm, what did you bring?” she asked, setting the towel in her lap and reaching to open the satchel.

“I raided the galley. Got some things that’ll keep without a cooling unit.”

She looked up at him, a wistful smile on her mouth. “So dinner and breakfast?”
“And a midnight snack,” he grinned. “And enough for lunch and dinner tomorrow, if you can stay that long?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Can you stay that long?” Her tone was hopeful and curious.

He nodded. “Helo isn’t expecting me back until day after tomorrow.”

“Did he ask why?”

“No, but he thinks I’m down here doing recon on Baltar,” he told her, “and that I’m going fishing.”

Her expression became quizzical. “Fishing?”

He nodded past her to the inner wall, where two fishing poles and a box of tackle set. He’d stowed them here earlier, when he’d brought in the mattress.

She looked over then back at him, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t know you fished.”

“I spent my early years in a coastal town,” he said by way of explanation, asked, “Do you fish?”

A wistfulness spread across her features. “Not since I was a girl.” With a slight tilt of her head toward the poles, she asked, “Where did you get those?”

He wondered when she’d get around to that. Fishing poles weren’t exactly in demand in space. “All my things are in storage on Galactica. I hadn’t made up my mind where I wanted to settle so I hadn’t bought a home yet.”

“That’s right, you were retiring,” she said as she reached for the satchel. “Did you at least have it narrowed down to a few places?”

He nodded, watched her reach into the bag. She pulled out, not any sort of food, but a portable radio. He chuckled at the odd look on her face. “I set the comm system on the raptor to relay to this handset,” he explained, taking it from her. He flipped it on, adjusted the volume until a low, unobtrusive static was heard then set it beside his boots.

“So where were you thinking?” she pressed the subject of retirement locales as she looked down into the bag.

“Qualai. Maybe somewhere on Tauron. I really didn’t know.”

Her gaze flickered up at him, curiosity brimming. “Not Caprica City?”

“No,” he replied, his gaze moving from hers as his fingers went to the buttons on his uniform tunic, undid them one by one. “I considered it once,” he confessed, recalling events just before he took command of Galactica. “But it wasn’t for me.”

He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t press. He was glad. He would really rather not get into all that. It wasn’t important anyway, except that his choice led to his being here instead of…

Frak.

Bill rested his forearms on his knees and stared at the pool as rain cascaded through the skylight, disturbing the normally calm surface. He had made that choice out of pride and it had saved his life. The thought had crossed his mind, of course, but he’d never actually sat down and thought about it but as he did now, it really hit him. If he’d pursued that civilian job, he’d likely have been killed in the attacks on the Colonies when they came. He wouldn’t be sitting here now, with Laura, in this cave that had become their occasional sanctuary from this planet and its godsforsaken weather. He wouldn’t have met her. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with her.

“What is it?”

The question was soft, had a certain quality, one that always made him desperately hard for her. He’d be hard pressed to define exactly what it was about that tone, but it always caused a visceral reaction.

Looking at her, he just let a corner of his mouth quirk up in amusement at himself, at the absurdity of life. He reached for the satchel and slowly moving it away slowly, giving her time to protest. But she didn’t, and he held out a hand to her.

“Come here.”

She did and he decided then and there, not much in the universe was more beautiful than watching Laura Roslin crawl across a bed to him. Even if the bed was just a mattress on a cold cave floor.

He smoothed his hand over her wet locks and down her back as she neared, petting her, leaning in to capture her lips as she tilted her head at the perfect angle.

It was slow. So slow. Their breaths mingling, quickening, lips gradually melding as she remained on her hands and knees. He brought his other hand up and cradled her cheek, caressing her smooth, damp skin with his thumb as his tongue slipped out to taste her lips then slip into the humid heat of her mouth.

She moaned, let out one of those sultry hums that he’d fallen for the first time he heard it, the first time he’d caused it. Then her mouth was leaving his, kissing his chin, underneath, down his neck. He guided her with his hand, feeling utterly selfish as she moved lower and lower still, her destination clear. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

When she pressed a hand against his chest, he lay back, thinking she might move astride him. But she didn’t. Instead, she moved closer, kneeling at his hip, unbuttoned then unzipped his trousers. He sighed in relief at the release of pressure against his aching cock.

Elegant fingers worked him further free, easing his length out of his clothing to stand proud for her, and then she took him into her mouth.

It wasn’t how he’d planned their first time tonight. He’d thought they’d be fevered or gentle, but more traditional, not this. Not her lips working over him, not her tongue rubbing and cupping, not her beautiful mouth sucking him off while he lay back on the mattress, struggling to breathe and not spill immediately.

In immense gratitude for what she was doing, he slipped his hand down her back, tugged up the hem of the sweatshirt then dipped his fingers into the waistband of the sweats, curling them around the curve of her luscious behind and gave her a squeeze.

She hummed around his cock in response, the sound vibrating all the way to the base of his spine. He groaned, eased her off him with his other hand, panting.

“Give me a minute,” he rasped and she did, hands going to the zipper on the sweat shirt.

He watched her draw it down and start to shed it, but he stopped her. “Leave it … yeah, like that,” he rasped, watching her breasts swing free, the nipples just peeking out from beneath the edge of the fabric, a tantalizing glimpse from where he lay. He reached out and ran a thumb over one of the nubs, the one closest to him, felt it harden further.

It had been a few weeks for them and he’d thought of little but her in that time, of her and them like this, of other things. He had missed her very much. Right now, he was missing…

“Yeah, Laura,” he sighed in relief when she took him back in her mouth, as if she’d been reading his mind.

He closed his eyes and gave himself up to her, loving that she seemed to enjoy this with him, something Carolanne never had. She’d told him he tasted bad, so he hadn’t asked it of many lovers since.

He’d never asked it of Laura. She’d just done it and well, and with an enthusiasm that astounded him. One night, that’s all she’d done and hadn’t let him do anything else. Every time he’d gotten hard, she’d given him head and she’d taken every ounce her efforts had produced.

His hand squeezing the globe of her beautiful ass, he let her know that wasn’t going to be the case tonight. He wanted to frak her and make love to her. He wanted to take her again and again, feel her hot and smooth and wet around his…

“Laura!” he gasped and came at just the thought of her sweet pussy around him while her hot mouth worked him. It’d been too long. And she was entirely too good at it.

“Frak me,” he moaned when he realized she hadn’t stopped, that she was continuing to work him long after he was spent.

He opened his eyes and watched her. Twenty years ago, what she was doing would have made him hard again, but at his age, he didn’t recover so quickly anymore. But even as his flesh softened, his hunger for what he knew lay between her thighs sharpened, keenly.

His hand sliding into her hair, he urged her to release him then issued a command when dancing gray-green eyes fell on his face. “Come up here and feed me,” he rumbled and watched her eyes darken, her gaze take on that heightened focus of arousal.

Yeah, I want to eat you, Laura, he told her silently as she rose on her knees and shed his sweat shirt, then stood and pushed off the bottoms. His eyes devoured her as she stood over him and slowly knelt again, astride him. She did it with an elegance that always surprised him. There was nothing lewd about her as she lowered, nothing crass in how she offered herself to him. It was beautiful, simply beautiful.

He slid his hands along those fantastic legs of hers as she came down, down to him, caressing her quivering flesh, felt the rise of gooseflesh. He heard her breaths coming in shallow little pants and the hums building in the back of her throat.

“Yeah, come down here,” he breathed deeply when he caught her scent. She smelled so good, felt so good. His mouth watered for her taste.

Upward still his hands moved, to her breasts, palming each mound as she settled against his chest. He looked up at her, smiled. “You’re incredible,” he told her then turned his head and kissed her inner thigh while his fingers kneaded the flesh in his hands.

“I’ve missed you,” she confessed breathily, her hands sliding into his hair and pulling his head up from the bed just enough for him to…

He flicked his tongue out, the tip penetrating her slit and glancing off that sensitive knot of flesh in the cleft. She bucked above him, making him smile. “Yeah,” he encouraged, repeating the action, delighting when he got the same reaction and more — a long, deep moan of his name.

“Mmmm, you like that,” he commented, knowing his saying anything at this point would make her shudder, and it did.

She really liked it when he talked to her during sex, especially in moments like this, and he liked that she did, that she didn’t find it vulgar or distasteful because he didn’t mean it that way. He just got so excited with her sometimes that he said what came to mind, what was on his mind.

At the moment, his thoughts were on how good she tasted and how hungry he was, for her, as he stared at the glistening red curls that were tickling his chin and the pink flesh revealed through her swollen and parting netherlips.

One hand releasing a beautiful breast, he caught one of hers, extracted it from his hair and guided it to herself. She took the hint and slid a pair of fingers over herself, scissored them wide and opened herself for him.

“Perfect,” he rumbled, his voice retreating to the basement of his timbre with arousal. He lifted his head then and kissed her, soft and slow, his tongue sliding out over her. She was creamy and pulsing and tasted of…

“Laura,” he breathed over her, his hands sliding around to grasp her bottom and draw her closer, into his mouth where he sucked and lathed, kissed and nipped. He rubbed his face into her, breathed her in until she was his very existence.

He frakking loved this with her. The taste of her. How she felt and smelled. How she responded so eagerly to the loving and greedy excursions of his tongue into her depths. She danced over him, held him to her and took what he gave even as she took what she needed.

He longed to exist in two places at once. Where he was now, and to disconnect a part of himself to see her from across the way, to watch her as she came undone for him from a different perspective. He longed to see her back arched as her hips rode his chin and chest. Longed to see her beautiful red hair falling down her back like curling tendrils of fire. He longed to see the paleness of her skin in comparison to his own, and watch the bounce of her breasts. He ached at the thought of how dark the caps would be at the moment, how hard her nipples would be, standing tall and proud in the air of the cave, monuments to her arousal.

Later, he would take her in other ways, and eventually slow and tender, making make her cry as he loved her body with his. But right now, he wanted this. To eat, devour and dine on the beautiful, wanton woman over him, the woman he loved.

Hands curling tighter around her, he drew her up until she was fully over him then gave her his tongue to ride. She did, taking her pleasure then pulling him hard against her when the end came, his name a rough cry in the fire and lantern light.

A bit later, Bill woke from a nap of the sexually sated to see his beautiful lover in the hot pool. The rain coming in through the skylight had lessened but still made a steady series of splashes, like a waterfall on a much smaller scale.

Her back was to him and she was leaned against the opposite side of the basin, her arms folded along the edge, her head resting atop them. Flickering light from the nearby campfire illuminated her, letting him see that her eyes were closed but that a smile curled the corner of her mouth. He wondered what she was thinking but decided it didn’t matter so long as she was happy. He just hoped he was a part of the reason for that beautiful expression.

Using the sound of the water as cover, Bill crept from beneath the blanket he’d brought from Galactica and slipped silently into the pool. It was cooler than it had been last time, thanks to the infusion of rainwater, but it was still pleasantly warm and so was her body when he eased up behind her and pressed himself against her.

She hummed in welcome, freed one of her hands to reach back and slide into his hair as he kissed her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Thought you were asleep,” she mumbled.

A soft “mmmm” was his response. Slowly, she turned in his arms and hugged him, eyes still closed. He hugged her back, pulling her close, loving how the elegant curves of her body molded to him. “You feel so good,” he told her with a smile against her neck, where he’d nuzzled and now was pressing kisses.

“So do you,” she replied, her hands drawing him up, guiding his kisses to her mouth.

He obliged her, kissing her slowly, tenderly, his heart rising ahead of desire this time, and she melted against him into him, her hands running through his hair, tugging it until he was sure it was in complete disarray. He didn’t care, just kissed her and kissed her until she leaned back against the wall and pushed off the floor, wrapping her legs fluidly around his waist and sank down onto him.

“That was quick,” she commented breathlessly on his revival as her eyes opened and found his.

“Yeah.” That was all he could think to say before she leaned in and kissed him, her mouth sliding over his both heated and loving. He loved when she kissed him like that, when he could feel not only her desire and lust, but the affection he knew she had for him.

He kissed her back, hands sliding over her slick skin. It was so warm, felt wonderful under his hands. From shoulders to hips, he swept them, pulling her away from the rock and stepping back into the pool, avoiding the cold shower coming in from above.

The glide of water around them was sensual, a caress from outside them, from the world around them. It was the only pleasant thing about New Caprica beyond the gift of this cave itself and the privacy it afforded he and Laura for … this, which was still so new and intense and borne out of the most pleasant gift of all.

Sometimes it amazed him how much she seemed to want him, how eager she was to have him inside her, touching her. She was incredibly passionate, and attentive. He’d missed that in a lover, someone who wanted him and not just what he could provide for their pleasure or for a few cubits.

And she was loving.

They hadn’t really spoken about feelings, about what so obviously lay underneath all the passion, that had grown out of their trust. He didn’t know if they ever would, so he contented himself with feeling them at all, and feeling them in returned.

Easing his mouth from hers, Bill slipped a hand up and caressed her cheek, smiling at the woman wrapped around him. She smiled back, sweeping her hands over his back.

“Missed you,” he said softly, not even bothering to suppress the shiver of delight that ran down his spine at her touch.

“I gathered,” she sassed, smile turning decidedly knowing and infinitely sexy.

His chuckle quickly became a moan when she rolled her hips and squeezed him inside her, murmured, “So hard, Bill.”

“For you,” he grunted, moving until her back was against the smooth basin again.

Once there, he began thrusting, needing that sweet friction, needing to move, needing to feel her, to be deeper.

She touched his face as he did, watched him as he looked down between their bodies, needing and wanting to see his cock go into her. It was a primal impulse, rooted in a possessiveness that he wasn’t sure he’d felt so keenly for another woman. He had little ability to ignore it, not initially. Eventually, though, he would look up, he would kiss her, and move his hands around and caress her, seeing to her pleasure.

He was fortunate. She indulged him, just let him do what he needed to do, moaning and panting, whispering encouragements even while her hands moved over his face and neck, through his hair and down to his chest, careful not to block his view.

When he glanced up, he saw her watching, too, and that was almost his undoing. A hand curling into her hair, he pulled gently, drawing her gaze up to him. “Good?” he asked on a labored breath and she nodded in reply.

“Yeah,” he agreed then moved his other arm down, slid his hand between her thigh and his hip, dipped and hooked his elbow in the bend of her knee, lifting.

“Oh, Bill!” It was a breathless moan, one of welcome as he moved deeper still.

Leaning in, Bill kissed her, mouth slanting over hers hotly as he probed her depths at a leisurely pace. Her hands feathered the sides of his face before dropping to his shoulders and holding tight.

Good. She felt so frakking good. Better even than he remembered and had vivid memories of being inside her honeyed clasp. They kept him company at night in his rack, when he showered. when he was fool enough to let his thoughts drift in CIC.

Mouth sliding from hers, across her cheek to her ear, he rasped, “Frak, Laura, you’re gonna be the death of me.” His hand moving from her hair, he braced his arm across her upper back, frakked her harder, faster.

He couldn’t get into her enough, not deep enough, not hard enough, not fast enough. And yet it was too much, the feel of her around him, the way she swung her hips to meet his on every thrust, the little grunts and groans, whimpers and cries of pleasure she let out on each one.

Holding her close to him, he pumped her, loving the feel of her breasts rubbing against his chest, how she clutched to him as if she wanted him closer still. He loved the dig of her other heel into his behind as she helped draw him to her time and again.

She buried her face in his neck, curled her fingers into his hair and held to him as they each took the other to the brink then over it with joint groans of pleasure.

“I feel so … decadent.”

The confession came a while later in the form of an elongated, contented sigh.

Bill looked away from the fire he was tending to see his lover laying across the mattress, naked as the day she was born, her arms extended in the air above her head. She seemed to be watching the play of light across her skin as she turned her hands this way and that, twisting her arms to observe new angles.

He smiled at the sight. A little food in her, a mug of ambrosia, half of one of her little cigarettes, a couple rounds of sex and she was something else. He liked seeing her this relaxed, not worried about anything but enjoying herself. He suspected she hadn’t done much of that in her life. Neither had he really, not like this, but this little grotto was like a space out of place and time where they could just be.

“Bill?”

“Hmmm?” he replied, eyes raking over her body as she proceeded to stretch like a cat, lithe and elegant, her arms reaching for the wall near the head of the mattress and her back arching, thrusting her breasts high while her legs straightened and toes pointed down. She was truly beautiful.

“Quit watching me and get over here,” she commanded, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Be right there,” he replied, put a couple of the larger sticks onto the fire then rejoined her on the mattress, stretching out beside her.

She handed him the cigarette and he took a drag, holding the somewhat sweet smoke into his lungs then exhaled. The effect of the herb was interesting. It was just sort of … mellowing. He still felt himself just there was no tension in him, mentally or physically. He knew she was feeling the same and that sleep would take them soon, as it had that night on the sandbags outside her tent.

Sitting up, Bill propped the cigarette between his lips then scooted to the end of the mattress, dug into the bottom of the first duffle and pulled out a small pillow. He rejoined Laura then, tucking the new item beneath his head. She turned automatically to him, nestling into his side. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her close but didn’t bother pulling the blanket over them just yet. It was warm enough without it so far and he liked being able to look at her whenever he wanted.

“Did you bring me one?” she asked, launching her hand across his chest.

He curled his free arm up, fingers sliding into her hair to massage her scalp. He caught her gaze and drew her down to ‘til her head came against his chest. Taking the cigarette from his lips, he murmured, “Right here,” and felt her smile.

“I like my pillow,” she conceded, hand slipping from his shoulder down to his belly to rub in slow circles.

With a smile, Bill tilted his head and kissed the top of hers with a murmured, “Good.”

She let out a soft, little giggle then sighed, wiggled closer to him, sliding a leg across his. He welcomed the gentle weight of the limb, the softness of her against his side, and the warmth of her breaths stirring the hairs on his chest.

Bill took another drag on the cigarette then offered it to her. She shook her head. “You finish it.”

He did, then stubbed out the butt against the wall before flicking it toward the fire. He hit his target and smiled.

“Good shot,” his lover commended

Bill smiled. “How did you know I hit it?”

“You feel smug.”

He chuckled, closed his eyes. “How does someone feel smug?”

“I don’t know how someone feels smug, but I know how you feel smug,” she countered. “And you just do. I can’t explain it.”

“Okay,” he conceded the point as he continued to rub her scalp with his fingertips, enjoying the silky smoothness of her hair between his fingers.

“Mmmm, that feels nice.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest as she spoke. “Going to put me to sleep.”

“Sleep is good,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

“Mmmm-hmmm … will you wake me later?”

He considered her request and his current state of lethargy. “You may have to wake me,” he replied.

She patted his belly. “If you do then … or if I do, okay?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, turning his head toward her, chin just touching her brow.

That’s how he fell asleep.

It was she who ended up waking him and she did so with a soft kiss. He opened his eyes to see her rising over him, her hair in bedded disarray, her eyes teeming with things that made his heart race and his cock hard.

Then she was moving away from him … no, moving beside him and turning, presenting herself on her hands and knees. The invitation was unmistakable and he could no more refuse it now than the first time she’d done so, trusting and trembling and uncharacteristically shy.

But she was not shy now. She was bold, fearless, and trusting. He wondered if she’d ever let another man see her this naked in her desire before, if she’d given care of her body over to a lover the way she did him here, away from the outside world. If she’d felt safe enough, loved enough to make herself so vulnerable.

It was part vanity, part curiosity, part concern that drove his thoughts.

He was a normal man. He wanted what they shared to be unique but he was also a realist. They were not young people. They’d lived lives as adults for a long time before they began intimacies and it was entirely possible that there had been another who’d had the privilege of seeing her like this. And yet the thought of another man looking at her as she was now did not set will with him. But neither did the prospect that she’d never had this, that she’d never been able to trust enough to express and have her needs truly met by someone who wanted more than their own pleasure.

Turning onto his side and bracing himself on an elbow, Bill reached out his other hand and smoothed it over the curve of her behind, that beautiful heart-shaped ass that filled his hands perfectly. He rubbed his thumb across the crease where her thigh began, felt her tremble. He knew she was wet and was ready for him to take her — he could smell it — but he didn’t rush. Abandonment would come soon enough. He could only resist the temptation so long.

But for now, he held his own desire at bay and focused on hers, gently sliding his hand back up along the crevice that divided her luscious cheeks, fingertips just skimming between, while he leaned forward and gently kissed one of the rounded globes.

She whispered his name and he murmured hers against the soft skin beneath his lips, kissed her again, gently nipped, licked, suckled here and there, his hand sliding up and down and around her thigh. She trembled for him ceaselessly, mewled and groaned and panted. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, glowed warm in the firelight.

As he ducked down and suckled the back of a lean thigh, he flitted his fingers over the wet warmth between her legs, slid them through her folds, back and forth along her slit, deeper on each pass. She moved with his touch, prolonging it as he rested his head on a beautiful calf and watched his hand play until she was cumming.

“Oh yeah, Laura,” he whispered, watching her pink flesh quiver and pulse. “That’s frakking beautiful.”

Head raising, he kissed her gently, licked at her, tasting, soothing between gentle shushes. Then he was rising, moving from beside her to kneel behind her. He placed firm hands on her hips, urged her down onto her haunches then sent his palms and fingers smoothing up over her partially bowed back then around to her belly and breasts. He drew her upright slowly, brought one hand around to move her hair aside so that he could trail kisses across her shoulder to her neck. He sank fingers in her below, making her moan and lean back against him.

He worked her slowly, keeping her on edge.

“You need this,” he rasped against her ear, asked, “You want it hard?”

She nodded, hips pushing into his hand, humming in pleasure and need.

He kissed the rim of her ear gently. “Yeah, hard,” he murmured then applied gentle pressure to the her shoulder, urging her down. She went in a sweet yielding, hands reaching out as she leaned forward, hips rising as her head bowed. Her hair swept forward in a russet cascade, concealing her face, splayed across the mattress when she went lower still, not stopping until her cheek was touching it.

“Laura,” he groaned in wonder, ran his hand down the length of her spine affectionately even as the sight of her like that was enough to have him cumming right then and there.

Leaning over her, he brushed her hair away from her face so he could see her, letting his fingers skim along her cheek with all the love he could muster, then down to rub across her parted lips. She whispered his name in protest when he took them away before she could suck them into her mouth then in anticipation when he rose up behind her, placing both hands on her hips.

He caressed her gently once more then positioned himself, giving her a moment to consider then pushed inside her in one smooth stroke. They moaned in unison and he watched her hands clench into fists then grasp at the bedding beneath her as he immediately took up a rhythm, slow at first then faster and gradually harder.

The angle was good, so very good, and she was so tight and wet, hot and silky soft around him. There was no water this time, just her, just Laura, and she was perfect and all his to enjoy and love.

“Yes, Laura,” he moaned, relishing the feel of her, the sounds made as their bodies collided, the gasps and moans, the little rasps of his name that increased with pitch and frequency as he took her harder and harder still, each stroke punctuated by the slap of his seed-heavy sac against her.

And then she was pushing herself up on her hands and swinging her hips into his thrusts, head bowed and breaths coming in harsh pants around groans and moans of his name, interspersed with pleas for more.

Deeper. Harder. Faster. That’s what she asked for and he gave it to her, aching to meet her needs and find his own satisfaction in the grip of her sex.

Leaning over her, he planted a hand to either side of hers and buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent on labored breaths and rasping her name repeatedly as the pleasure built to the point it was almost painful. To the point thought was feeling and feeling too much. Too frakking much. He needed to… but first he needed to…

“Come on, Laura,” he groaned, bucking his hips into hers while he reached between her legs with one hand, rubbed vigorously. “Cum hard for me,” he commanded, his voice becoming a growl as his own release threatened to overtake him. “Now. Right now.”

She did, shattering with a cry against his hand, around his cock, sending him careening into abandon, hips still working erratically against hers even as he spilled, unable to stop until he was empty and she was full to overflowing with him, them.

In the aftermath, Bill kissed his lover, his lips grazing her cheek as their bodies remained joined. His breaths still coming in pants, soft and rapid, and hips occasionally pushing against hers in residual strains of release. Beneath him, she moaned and quivered, struggled to breathe.

He whispered in her ear, “You amaze me,” then kissed her cheek again. He felt the bunching of muscles beneath his lips as she smiled.

He laid his hands over hers, which still clutched the bedding, coaxed her to ease her hold on them with gentle strokes of his fingers to her fists and wrists. She did so, fingers opening, splaying, inviting him to lace his with hers. He obliged the unspoken request, nuzzling her shoulder, kissing her upper arm, with a murmur.

“Thank you.”

“Mmmm, thank you,” she hummed in reply.

A gentle bite to her arm, soothed with an equally gentle lap of his tongue, then a whisper when he returned his lips to her cheek. “Welcome.” He kissed her slow and soft, lingering, then murmuring, “Stay still.”

He sat up slowly, hands sliding from hers, along her arms, to her shoulders, then down her back to her behind, which rested on his thighs. He molded her cheeks gently with his palms and fingers then rubbed his hands down her thighs to her knees, ascended to hold her hips and roll his own against her.

“Bill!” she groaned, fingers curling into the bedding again.

He repeated the action a few times, wanting to feel her squeeze around him despite the fact he was nowhere near hard enough to satisfy her, or his himself. But it felt good, that rippling caress, and she seemed to enjoy it. He sighed with the pleasure of it, and in happiness at her pleasure.

Frak, he loved being inside her, pleasing her.

Eventually, Bill surrendered to practicality and eased from her, easing a hand down to cup her sex as he withdrew, catching their combined fluids in his palm to keep the bedding from getting to be a total mess. he grabbed the towel that lay in a heap beside the mattress and cleaned up, himself then her. She hummed at each gentle brushing of the fabric between her thighs, completely pliant to his touch, filling him with the desire to…

“Let me wash you,” he rumbled, rubbing her back after setting the towel aside.

She nodded and he helped her sit up then, together, they moved the distance necessary to slip into the water.

Bill reached out for her, skimming his fingers along her spine as he moved to her and she visibly trembled at the touch. He moved closer, up behind her and she turned and buried her face in his neck, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held to him. He caught a glimpse of tears when she’d spun to him, felt them now, dropping hotly to his shoulder, prompting him to hug her to him tightly.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, worry rising as her trembling continued.

She shook her head, kissed his neck, nuzzled closer still.

“Sure?”

Her hand smoothed up and down his back as she nodded. Her tears still fell, but he didn’t press her to say why. He’d been around enough to know that women sometimes needed to just let themselves feel whatever it was they were feeling, even if it made them cry, and the best thing any man can do for them then was to just let them do it, hold them if they’d let him and everything would be all right.

So that’s what Bill did. He just held her as they stood in the warm water, his hands occasionally bestowing caresses here and there, arms tightening around her from time to time, little squeezes to let her know he was still with her.

In time, she went soft in his arms and her mouth sought out his. She kissed him sweetly, fingers slipping through his hair, wetting it, combing it back from his face in gentle, loving strokes. He trembled under the tender onslaught, gave himself over to the wash of love he felt from her.

It was an easy, natural thing to do. He loved her, longed to tell her but knew she wasn’t ready for the words. But he could show her. She’d let him do that, so he did, cradling her to him and returning her kiss just as she gave it. Slow and tender, a gentle series of caresses that were as intimate as any other kind of kiss, perhaps more so.

She hummed softly with each one and began smiling into them, which made him smile. Then she was hugging him again, her head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered after a time.

Bill leaned his head against hers, happy that she was happy, happy to hold her and love her, something she seemed to so desperately need. He understood that. “Me, too,” he whispered softly.

For a while, they just stayed close like that, holding to one another in the warm water. It was like being in a womb of sorts, a safe and comforting place, shielded and separate from the outside world. But sleep eventually nagged. Bill washed her then, with gentle strokes of his hand, her back and front, her arms and legs, the warmth between. Her own hands sluiced over him, lingering in sensitive places with gentle caresses that were about more than just cleaning away the residue of their passion.

When they were done, Bill helped Laura out of the water and followed. They shared the clean towel to dry off, he checked the fire then they slipped together under the blanket, eased naturally into a lover’s embrace, and slept.

The rumble of thunder and steady patter of falling rain. Those were the sounds that Bill woke to, those and that of Laura’s sleep-softened breaths. Her body was warm in the embrace of his, soft and supple the way a woman’s should be. Her hips fitted perfectly in the cradle of his, his belly to the curve of her spine, his chest to the plane of her back and his biceps the hollow of her neck, and the valley between her breasts … that was a form-fitting cradle for his forearm.

It’s as if they were interlocking pieces of a puzzle, one that neither began nor ended with those fittings of the flesh. Admittedly, those things, the outer, were the most obvious but they interlocked in intangible ways, too, in ways he doubted anyone would suspect beyond believer and unbeliever. But, in truth, they were each others’ counterbalance, with the ability to switch places within an equation if it was called for. If he was the optimist and needed a skeptic, she was his foil, and vice-versa.

It was a dance, one they did well as professional colleagues, friends, and now as lovers, moving in uncannily perfect time, rarely making a misstep, and in it, whatever was needed by one, the other tried to provide.

Last night, that last time, had been about something for Laura, a specific need she did not voice but that was evident in her submissiveness at the outset. She had put her complete trust in him, with herself, made herself blatantly vulnerable to him in a way he honestly hadn’t been sure she ever would, in any form. But he didn’t think she’d done it to prove something to him, but herself.

Bill wasn’t sure what she’d needed to prove, or if it mattered if he ever knew so long as she’d received what she needed in the exchange. He had hopes she had. Even though she’d cried a little afterward, she’d seemed otherwise content and been so sweetly loving in how she’d kissed and touched him in the pool. It had been a thanksgiving, a deeply personal one, making keen his longing to meet her needs always, whatever they might be.

She was such a strong woman, fiercely independent and yet beneath that was the wonderful delicateness her gender embodied. It was beautiful, sensual and elegant, and it called to the man in him to be her protector and provider, her shelter. And he was, when she let him, taking care to never usurp her person or position, or make her think he believed her incapable.

Laura was the most capable woman he’d ever known and he never wanted to feel anything more than loved and supported. That was his job as her admiral and her friend, as well as her lover. It was a job he wanted, and one he’d tried to do for Carolanne, but she’d fought him tooth and nail and, in the end, he hadn’t been able to do anything right for her, unable even to frak her to her satisfaction.

In time, Bill had come to terms with the dissolution of their marriage, had realized she’d married him with some sort of fairy tale in her mind about being a fleet officer’s wife. He’d mistakenly thought she’d had an idea of what that would entail, but he’d been woefully wrong, and the reality and her inability to adapt and his refusal to give up the career he’d always wanted had doomed their relationship over time, and driven a wedge between he and his sons. Of all of it, the latter he regretted the most. He’d made a degree of amends with Zak, but his relationship with Lee continued to be on-again, off-again. Just like with Carolanne, Bill frequently couldn’t seem to do things to his eldest son’s satisfaction.

But Bill had to do the things he had to do, whether they made his son happy or not, and Laura, blessedly, seemed to understand that without him having to explain or justify himself or the choices he made. And when he was conflicted, he could talk to her, something he’d not been able to do withCarolanne, except in those first few years, when they’d truly been happy and she’d been in love with him, when she’d wanted him in her arms and bed.

By the end, though, she’d taken her comfort in the bottle and the company of other men, while he’d adhered to their vows in every respect. He’d turned down more lap dances than he could count with scantily clad young women at every port, furious with Saul for his repeated attempts to get him to indulge, only to return home from leave early once and find Carolanne in the throes of ecstasy, in their marriage bed, with some pipsqueak bank manager.

That had been the death knell of their marriage for Bill. He’d refused to knowingly be a cuckold, considering the state of their marriage in every other respect, even for the sake of his boys. He’d believed, and still did, that lessening the turmoil in their home had been the best thing he could do for them because it had no longer been an option to remain married to a woman who clearly no longer loved or desired him, who constantly berated him and had spent the better part of seven years handing him excuse after excuse for why they couldn’t be intimate, leaving him alone with his right hand and wishing things were different because he’d still loved her.

Even still, he hadn’t sought the company of another woman until after the divorce, months after, almost a year, and it hadn’t been what he needed. It had satisfied the need for release but no more. It had been empty and he’d had enough of empty. So he’d avoided intimacies after that, burying himself in commanding his ship until age began to take its toll on his libido and body in other ways, until he’d become “the old man” and took solace in books and building model ships, with only the occasional encounter when the need for human contact became too strong to ignore.

Then along had come a long-legged, headstrong redhead who’d turned turned his carefully ordered existence upside down with her short skirts, soft hums, flashing gray-green eyes, and an uncanny ability to challenge him to be more, to be the man he’d always thought he was but had never truly been. And now, nearly two years later, he lay with that redhead in the warm glow of a smoldering campfire, skin to skin, his body aching for her as if he were young again and his heart filled with love for her.

Glancing up toward the skylight, he could just see the beginnings of daylight, but the rain continued to come down, meaning it would continue to be dark for a while yet. That was fine by Bill. This had always been his favorite time of day whenever he was planetside, when night was preparing to give way to morning, and he’d always liked it best when the air was cool and a gentle rain falling.

New Caprica was providing both at present, creating the perfect atmosphere for dozing in and out between lazy caresses to a lover … his lover … Laura.

Bill indulged the impulse, enjoying the cocoon of warmth underneath the blanket as he rubbed his thumb back and forth against the rise of one of her beautiful breasts. Just that, no more, and she sighed in her sleep, shifted, leaning her body softly back against his chest.

Oh, he liked that.

Pleased, he nuzzled lightly against her shoulder, pressed a gentle kiss to her creamy skin, over the adored freckles that dotted her. Once begun though, he couldn’t stop, dozing the last thing on his mind as her scent surrounded him. Soft, womanly, a delicious hint of sex.

As she continued to sleep, he gently glided his hand down over a breast, pausing momentarily to give the flesh a little squeeze, not enough to wake her but enough to draw a hum from her that bore a slurred murmur of his name.

It thrilled him to no end that she knew his touch in sleep, or that it was his touch she wanted. Either prospect was fine with him.

Lower still, his hand moved, over the slight roundness of her belly, to her hip and thigh, smoothing lightly across the softest skin he’d ever felt. He kissed her shoulder again, skimmed his lips along the delicate line to her neck, where her hair had fallen away. He leaned his head against hers and smiled, slipped his hand around the curve of her thigh, fingers moving slowly to cup her sex in his palm. He did no more than that, content to just hold her, shut his eyes and let sleep take him again.

When next he woke, Laura was moving his hand and easing from under the blanket. He watched her through lashes and lowered lids as she kissed his knuckles then stood. She glanced down at him, clearly aware he was awake.

“I’ll be right back,” she told him then walked over and picked up a poncho. He smiled as she stole into the passage, obviously to take care of a call of nature. Unlike his, she actually had to go out into the rain to handle hers. She would probably be cold and damp when she came back so he sat up and dug into his bag and pulled out a second blanket, arranging it in hopes it would help her warm quickly. He didn’t want her catching cold.

When she returned and stripped off the poncho, returning it to its previous spot atop his, he noted that the cool air had one benefit. Her nipples were hard. Very hard. Standing to attention hard. And he felt a certain part of his anatomy mimicking what he saw, the delicious tightening in his groin becoming intractable when he watched her walk back to the bed, breasts bouncing with each step.

As she neared, he lifted the blankets, not bothering to hide his body’s reaction to her. There was no reason to. He wanted her to know he desired her.

“I have no idea why they call you ‘the old man,’” she commented with a smile as she lowered and slipped back under the covers with him.

Bill chuckled. “Trust me, I haven’t been this inspired in years,” he confessed then gasped at the coolness of her skin as she cuddled against him. She was even cooler than he’d expected.

“Sorry,” she apologized, her smile turning a little contrite. “It’s really cold out.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, pulling the covers down around her.

As she settled, her head on his biceps, eyes meeting his in the distance between, she murmured, “You’re warm.”

“I stayed in bed,” he grinned.

She giggled, slid a cool hand down and palmed his ass, making him gasp. “Careful or you’ll ruin all my hard work,” he said as he palmed her own luscious behind and pulled her hips to his, bringing her pussy against his aching cock.

She hummed at the contact, rubbed herself against him shamelessly, an act that delighted him to no end. Yeah, he’d missed having a lover who wanted him, who welcomed his playfulness and brought her own unique brand of it to the mix.

“Mmmm, you do good work,” she countered with a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He slipped his hand up between them, grasped between thumb and forefinger one of the hard nipples that were scoring his chest. “I can’t take the credit,” he said, rolling it back and forth gently, earning a breathy “Oh, frak.”

“That’s the general idea,” he replied cheekily and was treated to a throaty laugh.

His heart raced away as her gaze pinned him with a look of tender affection amongst her amusement. Her hand slid up his back until her fingers were curling around his neck and drawing him…

“Come here,” she breathed and he obeyed, eyes falling closed when his mouth met hers.

The kiss was soft and unbelievably slow, a caress of lips, a tasting flick of a tongue between his, a trembling sigh, a muted smack. There was a sigh of his name. Another kiss, then another sigh. And then he was rolling her under him, the action netting a soft “yes” from her that made him feel so much more than the excitement of desire.

Love flooding him, he made love to her mouth in a series of soft, ever-deepening kisses, his lips caressing hers with undisguised intent. She hummed under and into each one, her legs curling around his below while her hands tangled into his hair. She held to him and held him to her as if he might disappear or leave. Then she murmured against his mouth three words, filled with fear and longing, “Slow, Bill. Slow,” as if she thought it might be over too soon.

“Slow, Laura,” he assured her.

It would be slow, maybe even slower than she wanted ultimately, the night’s activities having taken the edge of urgency off, leaving him with better control. It was one of the advantages of age over youth, and one he needed with Laura because she excited him so damned much. So he took his time.

Easing his hands up beneath her shoulders, he took her face in his palms and kissed her slowly, losing himself in the softness of her lips, the delight of feeling them swell under his sensual assault as her fingers stroked his hair and neck in matching time.
Pulling his mouth from hers, he gazed at her in his shadow. Her eyes, dark with passion, watched him from beneath lowered lids, a smile danced along the line of her mouth. It wasn’t a full smile, but it was the happy and sensual one that he was coming to know well, which elated him more than he should probably confess.

Returning her smile, he brushed his thumb across her temple, whispered, “You are beautiful.”

She hummed softly, slipped her hands around to caress his face. He trembled head to toe and closed his eyes at the incredible gentleness in her touch, the way her fingertips dipped fondly into the pocks on his cheeks then eased slowly back into his hair and drew him down.

“Bill,” she whispered just before her mouth covered his, kissing him the way he’d been kissing her. Soft and loving with a languid sensuality, effectively pulling him into the current of her desire. He eased a hand beneath her neck and held her to him as his other hand glided down over her arm to her waist. Then back up between them to claim a soft breast.

When she turned her head to catch a breath, Bill kissed her cheek, rode the rim of her nipple with his thumb, thrilling at the gasp his caress netted. “Yeah,” he whispered in her ear when she arched into his continuing touch, and again when her hands urged him down, down until he was covering his handiwork with the heat of his mouth.

He moaned at the feel of the hard peak against his tongue, the pebbled plain at its base, the way her hands fisted in his hair then swept down and across his shoulders in tandem. He suckled her, nursed her, kissed and lathed with the flat of his tongue. He moved from one to the other and back again, then down when she pushed at his shoulders, lips and breaths brushing over her quivering belly, moving inexorably downward to where she wanted him and where he wanted to be.

As he settled, his hands laid claim to her legs, stroking from foot to hip and back again. She trembled under his touch, made soft sounds of desire that dissolved into heady moans and gasps when he delved his tongue into her liquid heat. He ate, slowly, so slowly, enjoying her flavor and responses to the leisurely laps of his tongue and gentle tuggings of his lips, the easy stroking of his fingers through and into her heat.

She undulated, her lithe form flexing and flowing against the mattress, like a wave on a calm sea. He watched her, happy to bring her pleasure, happy that she let him and wanted him to do exactly what he was doing.

When she called for him, he went, dropping soft kisses into the bend of her hips before ascending to cover her mouth with his again. She hummed at tasting herself, consumed her juices on his lips and chin, even flicking her tongue through his mustache before kissing him again, deeper, longer, stealing his breath and stirring higher his need to be inside her.

Reaching between them, he grasped his erection and poised himself to enter her, and did so when she brought her legs up around his hips, groaning at the feel of her liquid heat around him, the soft, smooth tightness, the little ripples of her approaching orgasm.

She felt so frakking good on penetration, making him thankful he wasn’t a young man or else it would have been over already and he wouldn’t have the pleasure of make her come undone on him. And he wanted to do that, needed to do it, to feel her around him, grasping and releasing as he moved above and inside her, pushing in and pulling out. He needed to feel her moving under him, hear her, them, and watch her come apart at the behest of his driving cock.

Easing his mouth from hers, he pushed himself up on his arms and began a gentle rhythm, hips and thighs flexing in the cradle of hers. And she moved with him, body rising and falling in time with his, her breasts and belly dragging briefly against his on each stroke.

It was good, better than good. It was perfect, a lesson in symmetry, but it was not destined to last, not at its current pace. Seeing her, feeling her, listening to her … it was more than he could resist after a time, primal impulses rising in the face of tenderness, not evicting, but merging into a fevered want of the heart and flesh.

Bill surrendered to it and felt her own yielding to the inevitable. Her nails bit into the flexing muscles of his back as he brought his hips to hers again and again, with loving firmness. He watched her breasts dance on the wall of her chest, listened to the sounds of wetness as he worked her inside, and he felt and felt and felt. So much. So good. But he needed her closer.

Lowering, he slipped a hand behind her head, cradled her to him, welcoming the hotness of her breaths, the searing kisses and sharp nips to his neck, and the rub of her body against his as he strained for the crest, reaching, reaching, reaching.

And she was right there with him, holding to him as their bodies worked in unison then crying out with what sounded to his ears like joy when she shattered.

“Laura!” he joyously rasped in response, grabbing her hip and steadying her jerking body as he jetted inside her with a groan.

A bit later, he was groaning again, this time, under her, as she sat astride his thighs and massaged his back.

“Feel good?” She had leaned forward to ask the question and now was kissing his shoulder.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a glimpse of her, but all he saw was that gorgeous fall of red hair as it tumbled to conceal her face. Shutting his eyes, he answered her question.

“Real good,” he said with a smile. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done this for him, not even in a professional capacity. “Yeah, that’s good,” he mumbled when she sat up and ran her hands from the back of his neck to the base of his spine in one long, slow, firm stroke. She repeated it a few times, each time growing lighter until it was just her fingertips skating over his skin, making him shiver. Then there were kisses, warm, gentle ones, down to the small of his back while her hands kneaded his…

“You have an incredible ass.”

The declaration made him chuckle. He’d never been told that before even though he’d told a few women that in his day, including her. It just wasn’t something he’d expected to hear about himself, ever, even from Laura.

She swatted him playfully, giggling and making him laugh harder. “Don’t laugh, Bill, I mean it,” she scolded then…

Holy frak, she was kissing it and he was unable to suppress the little moan of her name that elicited. It was a good thing he had spent himself earlier or else he’d have been incredibly uncomfortable. The soft feathering of her fingers over him along with the soft little suckings of her mouth, licks of her tongue … godsdamnit, that was something else.

“Why do I have a feeling,” she whispered between the caresses of her lips, “no woman has ever told you … how sexy you are?”

He shook his head. That’d he’d heard, albeit more when he was younger, when he’d been in is prime physically and piloting vipers. As an older man, not so often. It had probably been decades since he’d heard it last, at least from someone who hadn’t been offered cubits by his best friend, which was pretty sad when he thought about it. But then again, he’d never had any illusions about his looks, which is why he’d concentrated on staying healthy and honing his skills as a lover and not turning his body into some monument to vanity. Besides, he wanted to give a woman more than something nice to look at.

Feeling Laura moving up again, he smiled. Her hips straddled his and her breasts flattened against his shoulder blades as she lay over him. Her hands glided over his arms until they reached his. She then touched her lips to his ear, asked, “When’s the last time, Bill, someone said it and meant it?”

“A long time,” he answered honestly, but without an ounce of self-pity. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. He only wanted a woman to say things like that to him if she meant it, plus there’d not been a lot of women since the divorce, or his marriage for that matter, who’d have even had the opportunity, and fewer yet that he would believed.

There was a kiss to his cheek then another whisper, “I mean it.”

Bill believed her. Laura Roslin did not say things that she did not mean. “I know,” he rumbled, his fingers parting, inviting her to lace hers with them. She did, with one of those trademark hums of hers, then settled her head on his shoulder, stretched out her legs, to the outside of his.

“I’m glad you brought the mattress,” she said softly. “Means I can do this.”

Bill rumbled his approval, and the sound blended with a gentle roll of thunder and the soft patter of raindrops in the stone entry and on the pool’s surface.

Squeezing her fingers, he exhaled slowly, “You can do whatever you want, Laura.”

“Whatever I want,” she sighed softly, “Is that a blank check, Bill?”

“Yes,” he replied and meant it. She could do whatever she wanted to him or with him, could ask anything of him. He trusted her that much and he wanted her to know it, to know that he was hers, and that she could trust him equally with herself.

“Mmmm. And what if I told you I wanted to…,” she shifted, brought her mouth next to his ear, breathed exactly what she wanted to do and he flushed hot at the sensual tableau she painted of how she wanted to essentially use him for her pleasure, making him again wish he could see outside himself, see her with him.

He settled for replying, “I’m all yours,” and letting his mind run wild with images of how she’d look if she followed through. It was an incredibly erotic thought and something he’d never had a lover request, much less do.

Bill was beyond thrilled when she shifted above him, wiggling until she was positioned just right, then it began, with gentle rolls of her hips, seeking, seeking, seeking … finding.

She let out a soft moan and he echoed it upon feeling wet heat sliding in the hollow of his spine, a thin line that could only come from…

He had no time to process the thought as she shifted her body further down, dragging herself over the curve of his behind, that part of her slipping just between … sonuvabitch!

“Clench, Bill,” she commanded, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

He obeyed. He motherfrakking obeyed without question and was rewarded with a moan, deep and throaty and excited, “Good. That’s good.”

It was. it was so damned good, he couldn’t speak, he could only lay there and feel her and moan, and wish the impossible — to see her, exactly what she was doing. And yet he knew that not seeing was a powerful factor at the moment. He could only imagine, his mind supplying images of the familiar to complete a scenario that was new, and it played out across his mind in echo of her actions.

Up and over, down and over, up again and down again, again and again, she wantonly sought her pleasure, her pace slow and deliberate, until her need crossed into urgency. Then she leaned forward over him, her breasts brushing his back as she moved harder and faster, bringing herself to a shattering climax that left him panting as hard as she and his cock damned near hard enough to penetrate Galactica’s armored hull.

He shouldn’t have been. It should have been hours, but, frak…

And feeling her continuing to shudder and keen over him, frak…

Yeah. He needed to frak. Her. Now.

“Up, Laura,” he commanded, “Raise up.”

She did and he turned under her as quickly and carefully as possible. Her hands came back to his chest, braced her trembling over him. He put one hand on her hip, the other gripped his need. He guided her to him. “Come on. Let’s chase it.”

She took him in and he pushed up, meeting her halfway, watched her head fall back when he, by some miracle, managed to keep his eyes open. “Gods, Bill,” she panted, tremors increasing. He could feel her still cumming.

It was incredible. She was incredible, but she couldn’t seemed to move, so pulled her down to his chest and rolled them until she was under him.

It put them at the edge of the mattress, but he didn’t even try to move them over. He just started thrusting, pushing his need in her, dragging back out. Slow at first, then faster, long, smooth strokes that had her moaning and clawing at his back. In the crook of his neck, she gasped and whispered hoarsely his name, “pleases,” “yeses,” and “oh my gods.”

Wonder tinged each utterance and it was a feeling he shared. This was so good with her. Every frakking time. It defied the odds of sexual satisfaction like nothing he’d ever known.

Holding her against his chest, he rode her initial orgasm into another and another until his own had him burying his face in her neck and all but shouting incoherently.

In the wake came a wash of love that had him raising on his knees, bringing her up with him. And then he was holding her and kissing her, hand sliding soothingly over her body as she continued to shudder.

“Easy, easy,” he shushed her, kissing her mouth and then her cheeks and brow. He loved her best he knew how as he struggled to control his breathing and master the trembling in his own frame. He caught the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes with his lips, kissed them away, ran his hands over her back, through her hair, hugged her close and just held her, rocked her gently. He ached to tell her he loved her, but he didn’t, fearing the words would frighten her and shatter the moment.

So he let it hold for as long as it would last, content in loving her and knowing that, whether she’d admit it to herself or not, she loved him. She wouldn’t be here with him otherwise, not like this, thoroughly relaxed in his arms, not whispering kisses in the hollow of his throat and stroking his shoulders with shaking hands.

When she finally spoke, it was to tease. “Thought you were done for the morning.”

“So did I,” he conceded with a smile, hugged her tighter, kissed her shoulder, “You make this old man feel young again.”

She giggled. “But without the misfires.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and slowly eased her back down to the mattress, remained over her, hands braced to either side of her head. “What do you say we nap then I’ll try to catch us some fish for dinner?”

Her hands slid down over his chest, smiling softly up at him. “Mmmm, fresh food. Sounds good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, bent to kiss her then sought the clean towel. He cleaned her gently then himself. “I’ll wash these out in a while They’ll dry by the fire tonight.”

She nodded and turned onto her side, making room for him to spoon behind her. He did so, pulled the blanket over them and they settled down for a mid-morning nap, lulled to sleep by the steady fall of rain.

They slept well past lunch, or at least Bill did. He woke to find Laura dressed in his sweats and re-entering the cave. In her hand, she had the towels he said he’d wash out. She’d already taken care of the chore and had arranged a branch, which she’d also apparently gotten while she was out, and was now draping the wet towels over it, readying them to dry when they restarted the fire for the evening. For now, though, it was warm enough and not overly damp so they could do without it.

“Stopped raining?” he asked, noticing that the sweat jacket wasn’t wet and that the fall of rain through the skylight was absent.

“Yes, but it feels like it might snow,” she said. “I found some more wood while I was out but I haven’t brought it in yet.”

She was industrious. “Dry?”

She nodded, glanced over at him. “Dry enough, I think. There’s a large overhang up the hills a little ways, there are some good-sized branches beneath it. Looks like they’ve been there a while so it shouldn’t be green and the ground under the overhang appeared to be pretty dry.”

Bill chuckled. “Caprican Wilderness Girl, huh?”

She flashed him a smile. “With lots of badges.”

Bill pushed himself up on an elbow, wiped a hand over his face, shoving away the dregs of sleep, then tossed aside the blanket. “I’ll go up and get it,” he said, reaching for the duffle nearest the bed. He dragged it onto the mattress beside him, fished around for his fatigues. He found them at the bottom of the bag, where he’d packed ‘em, pulled them out. He also got out a clean pair of tanks, boxers and socks.

“Did you leave anything in your quarters?”

Bill glanced up to see Laura approaching the bed where he sat, a sassy smile on her mouth. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Just packed what might be needed.”

“Fatigues?” she asked.

“Fishing,” he reminded her as she lowered to sit beside him.

She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rested her chin on her knees, smiled at him with a soft, “Ah.”

He dressed under her watchful eyes, putting his socks on first, not where he’d usually start but dressing while virtually in the floor at his age required a rearrangement. He then stood to put on his boxers and pants, his tanks and long-sleeved shirt next.

Bill bowed and kissed her forehead before going over to push his feet into his boots. “I’ll look for a good place to fish before any snow starts. If it gets very cold, the fish’ll head to the bottom,” he said then sighed at the prospect of bending over and tying the laces. He hadn’t been able to do that in years, making him miss his bunk about now.

“Come here.”

He looked at his lover, who was wearing a doting smile. She motioned with her hand and issued her command again. “Come here.”

He went and she tied the laces for him. He was grateful but he felt a little silly, considering he was a grown man, a feeling that was compounded when he looked at the boulder not two steps away. Frak, he was an idiot. He could have easily sat there and tied his own damned shoes.

Bill shook his head at himself and smiled at the possibility she had frakked him stupid in the past twenty-four hours.

Holding out his hand, he helped her to her feet, leaned in and kissed her lips gently with a soft “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she hummed when his mouth left hers. “Want me to come with you?”

Feeling the coolness of her fingers, he gave them a squeeze. “You get warm. I won’t be long.” With that, he slipped away from her, asking, “Where’s that firewood?”

She gave him the directions and he followed them, found the branches and downed trees where she’d indicated. Using a little brute force, he broke them down into appropriately sized logs, gathered up an armful and headed back. He did that a couple times, making sure they had plenty in case the little spits of snow decided to become earnest in their efforts to cover the forest floor.

It was important they stay warm. The cave was a good shelter from the weather, especially with the fire, but he considered it would probably be wise to drape something across the entrance to keep out the bulk of potential drafts. He figured he could use the ponchos and picked out a pair of long, slim, green branches to make a frame to attach them to, creating a lean-to door.

Bill then spent several minutes on the ledge outside the cave watching the water, looking for signs of fish breaking the surface consistently. When he didn’t see any, he moved farther around, toward the side with the waterfall. He looked down into the water. It was crystal clear and looked infinitely cold, much colder than water inside the cave, which made him wonder…

Eyes scanning further along, he looked for the drain, knowing the water from that pool had to go somewhere. After the night of constant rain, the cave would have been flooded otherwise. He spotted it after a few minutes, it was about thirty yards down, marked by a thin vapor rising from the surface, telling it cooled considerably before merging with the waters of the lake. But the water was definitely warmer there, and a good spot for fishing.

Grinning, he went back into the cave, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

Laura was sitting on the mattress, leaned back against the cave wall, a blanket across her lap and glasses perched on her nose, book in hand.

“See you found that?” he nodded toward the leather-bound volume she held.

She smiled. “Hope that’s all right?”

“That’s why I brought it,” he replied then knelt by the tackle box. He opened it. ”Think I found the spot to try my luck,” he told her as he pulled out his favorite bait then reached for the pole. He hooked it onto the line then stood. “Let’s see if these fish like a Caprican blue shad.”

“Good luck,” she called out as he exited, excited at the prospect of a meal that wasn’t prepackaged or processed to hell and back.

Crouching down beside the wall, making himself a small target for wind and precipitation, concentrating his body heat and reducing his shadow against the water, he cast the line and reeled it back in slowly, feeling for that tell-tale bump against the bait, but there was nothing. He tried a few more times, trying to drop the bait into the water a little easier each time until he had it just right.

“Yeah,” he smiled when, on the next cast, it lightly sank in instead of “plopping.” He then tried casting out a little farther, and in various spots, not wanting to hit the same one each time.

Still no bumps, but he was enjoying the challenge. It had been a long time since he’d gone fishing, not since he and Saul had taken a trip about fifteen years earlier. A trip that Saul had spent blind drunk in a hammock while Bill sat on a dock dangling his bare feet over the edge and casting a line.

Bill’d enjoyed the hell out of that trip in spite of Saul’s bingeing, and he was enjoying this now. He found himself enjoying it even more when he felt something hit the line.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he muttered as he reeled the line in and recast. His heart raced when he felt another hit. “Come on,” he urged, casting again.

Once, twice, three times more, and his heart shot into his throat when he felt a hit, then tension on the line, then a jerk. He pulled up sharp on the pole and reeled rapidly, keeping the tension on the line as he brought in his catch. His heart was racing. Whatever was on the line felt big. As it neared, he couldn’t resist looking over the ledge into the water.

Frak! It was big. Not huge, but a really nice catch, probably enough for both he and Laura to enjoy.

Inching in the last few feet of the line, hoping like hell it didn’t snap from age and disuse, he knelt down and grasped the fish, hooking his thumb into its open, toothless mouth. He lifted it and took a good look. It was a beauty aesthetically and in its potential as a meal.

Leaning the pole against the wall behind him, he freed the hook from the fish’s mouth then took carried it and the pole back to the cave. He eased through the crevice and held up his catch in triumph.

“What do you think?”

Laura looked up over the rim of her glasses at him and grinned, seeing what he held. “I think I’m going to kiss you into next month.”

He laughed.

“Seriously,” she told him as she marked her place and put the book aside. “That fish goes for quite a bit in the marketplace. It’s a hard one to catch apparently, and very tasty.”

“Have you had it before?”

She shook her head. “Haven’t had enough to trade, and the smaller fish taste well enough, when I can get them.”

Bill frowned, but she waved off his worry over her inability to get fresh food when she needed it. “They go fast and there’s usually a crowd,” she explained as she pushed her glasses up her nose and took a closer look at his prized catch. “This is bigger than I’ve seen in the markets,” she commented then met his gaze, her own twinkling in merriment. “I’ll start the fire, if you’ll clean it.”

“Hungry?”

“I am definitely getting there,” she confessed then took the fishing pole and tackle box from him. “Go. Clean,” she commanded.

“I need the cleaning kit,” he said, pointing to the box that she was now setting on the floor. She opened it and pulled the kit out, brought it to him.

“I’ll be back,” he said, taking it from her and eyeing his catch once again as he eased out of the cave. It really was a nice fish and the thought of eating it was even more appetizing after what Laura told him. He’d really rolled the hard six with this catch apparently, a thought that made him grin.

Kneeling down on the ledge, he flipped open the kit with one hand while holding the fish in the other. He didn’t dare set it down for fear it might flip and flop its way back into the water. Pulling out the knife with the long, thin blade, he laid out the fish on a clear section of the stone and quickly severed its head from its body. He then set about the rest of his task, pleased to see the fish had skin instead of scales, making his task easier, which was a good thing since his fingers were getting pretty damned cold.

The temperature seemed to be dropping and the snow was certainly coming down a little heavier.

Finishing his task as quickly as possible, Bill disposed of the inedible parts and rinsed his tools and the fish in the cold water below then ducked back into the cave.

Laura had the fire going nicely and had brought the food satchel over and was rummaging around inside it. “I thought I saw some tin sheets in here yesterday,” she said as he knelt down beside her.

“Yeah, they’re down in there, and there’s a packet of salt, too,” he peered over into the bag with her. “Think that’s them by your right hand, under the… yeah, there.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she said in triumph, pulling out both the tin and salt. “This will be perfect.”

She set her finds aside then folded together several sheets of the tin. He placed the fish on it at her direction then turned the cooking over to her. She liked it, he’d learned in this time on New Caprica.

Before Baltar had all but banned him from the surface, she’d taken great pains to have a little something cooked whenever he visited, had always lit up when he asked her how she’d prepared it. He’d asked out of politeness initially, and then just to see that reaction. This was the first time he was able to watch her cook, though, so he just sat back and observed, ready to lend a hand if she requested it. He was a pretty decent cook himself, but he never got to practice much.

He watched her add a few pinches of salt, a couple splashes of ambrosia and then, to his surprise, she reached back into the bag for the can of Virgon chestnuts. He’d picked them up on his last shore leave but had never opened them, so he’d packed them for this trip since they didn’t need to be kept in a cooler to stay fresh and were a good snack. At present, Laura was putting them inside the fish, lining them along the spine. She then folded the flesh back over, sealed up the foil around it, and carefully laid it on a hot stone across a portion of the flames.

“Looks good,” he told her.

She smiled at him. “I hope it is.”

He didn’t doubt it would be. “I’m going to go clean up,” he said, glancing to his hands.

“You have soap?” she asked.

He nodded to the other side of the cave. “Yeah, it’s in my shaving kit in the duffle with my clothes.”

“I’ll get it,” she offered, explaining, “I’m less messy.”

It was true, so he didn’t protest. She brought the soap and together the slipped outside and cleaned their hands in the cold water. Bill noted that the snow was coming a little harder still.

“I think we’re in for a good bit of this tonight,” he said, eyes scanning out across the lake. Snow was starting to gather on the limbs of the trees on the opposite shore.

“Do you think we should go to Galactica?”

Bill looked over at her, smiled. “We’ll be fine,” he told her even though she well knew they would already be aboard his ship if he felt she was in danger in any way.

Back inside, Bill gathered the ponchos and the long branches he’d found earlier and bound then with a little creative tying, then leaned the makeshift door over the crevice that served as entry to the cave. There was a gap at the top to allow air circulation and secondary ventilation for the fire, but the lower portion blocked fairly well against drafts.

“Are you sure you didn’t spend more than a year as a Wilderness Boy?” Laura asked him later when they were sitting side by side eating the fish and sipping the bottled water he’d packed.

Seeing her eyes on the “door,” he grinned then went back to eating. “I didn’t learn that as a Wilderness Boy,” he said between bites of fish. “That’s courtesy of fleet survival training.”

“How so?”

“Every piece of gear we have has more than the obvious function.” He pointed toward the ponchos. “I can make a tent from one of those.”

She looked at the ponchos then back to him rather incredulously. “A tent?”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s small, but it will protect you from the elements if you have nothing else.”

She still looked as though she might balk, but didn’t, and they finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence.

It was really good and Bill complimented Laura as they cleaned up once again, braving the snow that continued to fall but thankfully hadn’t begun to gather at the entrance to the cave.

Heat from inside was keeping the ledge just warm enough to prevent sticking but Bill figured all bets were off after sunset, which prompted him to suggest they might want to take care of other things before settling in for the night.

Once that was done, they shut themselves into the cave, ditched their shoes, and lay back on the mattress, each with a book in hand. Bill rested across it lengthwise and Laura widthwise, using his belly for her pillow. He liked that, reached down and gently stroked her hair as he read, only stopping when he needed to turn a page in his own book.

Sometime later, she closed up hers and set it and her glasses on the mattress beside him. As she shifted, he lowered his book, watched as she finished turning onto her side and looked up at him. Her expression was tender, wistful.

“I like this, Bill,” she said softly, a hand caressing his chest.

Bill’s heart skipped a beat beneath her palm. “Me, too,” he replied, brushing his thumb across her brow.

She smiled gently, then, after a few moments, moved again, sliding up until she was half-draped across his chest. Her eyes searched his, for what he did not know, but she seemed to find what she wanted because she smiled again, leaned in and kissed him lightly. He pursed his lips, returning the gesture and was rewarded with a hum.

Then she was drawing away and rising to her feet. His eyes tracked her, watched her fingers unzip the sweat jacket then drop it to the mattress. The pants were right behind them, followed by her bra, panties, and socks, baring herself completely to him.

She was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, a veritable goddess and all woman with supple curves and elegant limbs and glorious hair, a mass of red curls framing her face and tumbling to her shoulders.

His body heated intensely at the sight of her, at the erotic silence that enveloped them as she just looked at him, her gaze both knowing and enigmatic while the firelight made love to her pale skin.

Speech was impossible. All he could do was look at her on perfect display, his eyes moving over her, head to toe and back again, memorizing every little detail, feasting on it until he felt a glutton.

It was then she turned, her timing perfect, pivoting then closing the distance to the pool. She lowered at the side, slowly kneeling and presenting her profile to him. She rested her head against her knee, facing away from him as she extended an arm down and stirred the water with her hand.

Several heartbeats passed then she shifted and slowly eased herself over the edge and down into the pool. He found himself holding his breath when she ducked under the water briefly only to exhale when she resurfaced, arms rising to push her hair back, the action bringing her breasts just above the surface.

Her areolas were puckered and dusky with desire, her nipples infinitely suckable buttons that made his mouth water. His cock went rigid in his pants.

When her eyes opened again, they alighted on him once more, raked over him head to toe, just as he’d done her minutes earlier. She moved to the side of the pool, rested her arms there, propping her chin atop them. She spoke.

“Undress for me.”

Her words were soft. It was a request, not a demand but he could deny it no more than he could an order. He also could not deny that he wanted to do what she asked. So he did, his hands going to the buttons on his overshirt, undoing each one. Sitting up, he swung his legs around toward her and shed the garment, laying it atop the pile of her clothing. He then got to his feet and moved closer to the pool.

As she watched, he shed his tanks, his dogtags falling back to his chest with a clank. He went to remove them but she shook her head, so he turned his attention to his belt, then his trousers, then his boxers, until he stood in a pool of his clothing, bared to her wandering, startling appreciative eyes.

By way of invitation, she eased back from the side of the pool, walking backwards, her eyes dropping to study his sex as he crouched facing her, knowing he was on full display in the firelight. In response, her hands moved down her neck to her breasts, smoothed to her belly.

Her excitement was a tangible thing in the distance between them. It drew her back to him like a magnet. He waited and watched as the waters parted around her beautiful body. When she reached him, her hands breeched the surface and came to rest on his feet. Her eyes did not seek his out, but remained fixed on his cock as it bobbed of its own accord under her scrutiny.

Her left hand departed his foot, gently cradled his length as she rose up on her toes and kissed the head. Once, gently, then her lips parted and she sucked him in, as much as she could, and he had to brace himself with a hand on the poolside.

Then, as quickly as she’d begun, she moved away, letting him slide and drop from her mouth and hand as she retreated through the waters again.

He should have been angry or frustrated for her leaving him aching so after the sweet promise of her mouth and hand on him, but her intent had not been to to tease, so he was neither. He was mesmerized instead and could do nothing but follow her, sliding down into the warm water with her and moving into her outstretched arms.

“Do that again later?” he asked as he drew her against his chest.

She nodded and he kissed her, melding with her in the sensual atmosphere she’d created, his heart hammering with love and desire. Their lips slid together seamlessly, soft and warm, their breaths mingling. Her fingers tangled in his hair as his mapped the smoothness of her back and down to the curve of her behind. He lifted her easily in the water and she reached between them to find his hardness, and together they facilitated the joining of their bodies.

Bill shuddered hard and bowed his head against her shoulder as she sheathed him. Her lips touched his ear and shushed him softly as she held him to her, hands in his hair once again, stroking him lightly, soothingly. He wasn’t sure why until he realized he was crying silent tears. He’d been so caught up in her he hadn’t felt them.

They didn’t frak there in the water, despite the incredible build up and even though the tension never wanted. Instead, they just held each other, kissed and caressed, loved with their hands and mouths and eyes, saving the other for later, choosing to just enjoy the closeness of now, let the tension grow tighter and sweeter until the need for more became impossible to ignore.

They exited the pool then, dried off using his tanks, and eased down onto the mattress.

Laura kissed him as he laid back, her hands sliding over his chest, up to hold his face. He shivered under her, his body rising under her palms and fingers, wanting and needing the power in her touch. His hands slid over her slender shoulders and drew her atop him.

She became his world, his universe, his reason for existence, a feeling that grew sharper when she moved once more, turning her body to lay in the opposite direction of his, on her side. The curling of her fingers around his cock had him turning to her and flexing his hips to push into the heat of her opening mouth.

She took him fluidly, her hand sliding to his hip and guiding him closer, urging him deeper. He could have wept at the look of rapture on her face. Instead, he reached for her, cradling the swell of her hips and drew her to him, a hand sliding around to the back of her upper thigh and directing it over his head so that he could bury his face in her. So he could breath her in and fill his mouth with her flavor, and know only her, above and below.

He loved her slowly with delicate excursions of his tongue, flicking over and through her soft, swollen folds. He felt the rapid thrumming of her heart in her clit as he suckled it from time to time, in time with the draw of her mouth and gentle pumping of her fist around his base.

Good. It was so very, very good. And beautiful and sexy and…

“Laura,” he exhaled into her when she slid off him then ducked below. The feel of her lips working slowly around his balls had him stilling just to memorize the sensation and sight of her face half concealed by his thick cock, which lay against her cheek.

He reached down for her, but couldn’t quite touch her face, so he filled his hand with a beautiful breast, massaged it in rhythm with her lips and tongue, fought the urge to move his hips, knowing she needed the control. He gave it to her, give himself to her and turned back to his task, hands grasping her hips again and drawing her closer still, bowing her back as he rested his head high on her inner thigh and supped on her pussy and the sweet cream seeping from her depths.

He used his fingers to bring it out, to coax more, pausing from time to time to catch his breath and enjoy the feel of her mouth returning to his length. She did the same, sometimes stilling and just holding him between her lips and in the cup of her tongue, panting around him as he saw to her pleasure.

It might have gone on for only minutes, maybe hours, but it felt like days and still it wasn’t long enough, as ends neared, flesh able to take the emotional and physical high for only so long.

He finished her first, lapping quickly and repeatedly at her until she was moaning around his thickness. The vibrations were rapturous and hastened his own surrender, one she secured by inviting him to thrust in while her hand stole around his thigh and between to massage that spot just behind his sac. He shot into her with a deep groan, hips still pumping even as she swallowed, and she took all he had to give, every drop. And still she lay there, holding him inside her, her hand on his hip, gripping as if she was afraid he might retreat.

He wasn’t going anywhere. There was no way he would leave right where he was until she was ready. But he did shift and touch her, laying a hand aside her puffing cheek and brushing at the tears trailing away from the corner of her eye. When he cupped her head to him, she opened her eyes and looked for him. He just whispered, “What do you need?” because he was sure she needed something. She was so vulnerable, in a way that he’d never seen in her before until last night.

At his question, she slowly worked her way off him, with caresses of her lips and hands, careful ones meant to comfort his hypersensitive flesh instead of coaxing anew. He smiled at her, continued to caress her as she steadily retreated.

Once he was out of her mouth, she gently laid his spent member against his thigh with a lingering caress, then came up the bed to him and curled against his chest, her ear pressed over his heart. He held her there gently, a hand behind her neck, caressing, the other splayed across her lower back, cradling her close. She nuzzled her face against him, her breaths coming in choking pants, and she was whispering, or trying to.

“I… Bill, I…”

That’s all he could make out between the little hitches of her breaths, and he suspected that was all she could get out, but he knew what she was trying to say. It radiated from her as she held to him, touched him, and amazed him.

Here was a woman who had faced down him, the cylons, and cancer, had daily handled the quorum and whiny civilians but when it came to expressing love for him, she was completely unable to find the words. Because those words had failed her, she’d been trying to show him, last night, today, tonight. Her struggle humbled him, had him shifting to hold her more fully and dropping soft kisses to the top of her head in comfort, acknowledgement, and answering love, whispering, “I know, Laura.” He hugged her closer still, braved a confession of his own with a soft “Me, too.”

They didn’t exchange any more words on the subject. There was no need. They understood one another and that was enough. One day, he hoped to hear her say those words and wanted very much to say them in return, but now wasn’t the time.

Right now, what she needed was comfort and peace, and to feel his love but not be smothered by it. So he just let her do what she needed to do.

For a while, she just held to him. Eventually, she eased her hold and lay beside him. A few moments later, she looked at him, and there was a softness in her expression that he’d seen in varying degrees in the last few months, since they’d begun intimacies, but that had been nothing compared to what he was seeing now.

He smiled at her and she smiled back.

He laughed and she giggled.

Then she sighed and closed her eyes with a trailing hum. Her smile broadened after a few seconds and shared why after a few more.

“I’m hungry.”

His heart warmed at the confession. “We have food,” he said softly.

There was another sigh and she opened her eyes, sitting up as she did. She reached for the sweat jacket and pulled it on, then wiggled into the pants before glancing at him again and he contented himself with just watching her. She looked at him a little funny then giggled again.

“What?”

She leaned toward him and touched his mustache with her index finger. “You’re a mess,” she said, showing him the wetness she’d gathered. He knew it was there, could feel it cooling.

“That’s you,” he smiled, catching her hand. Holding her eyes, he gently sucked the digit into his mouth.

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes watching him as he licked her finger clean with the tip of his tongue. When he released her, she slid her hand to his cheek, caressed him gently. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Thank you.”

She tilted her head with an indulgent hum then eased away from him in search of the satchel with food. They’d left it over near the fire. She brought it back to the bed, while he slipped on his boxer briefs then eased over to the side of the pool, reached down and washed his face and mustache.

Returning to the bed, he saw she’d pulled out a package of crackers and a tin of dried fruits, probably the last in the fleet and yet another from his personal stash. She shared them with him and they passed a bottle of water back and forth between them.

Once they finished eating, Laura swapped the sweats for one of his tanks then, together, they brushed the cracker crumbs out of the bed.

Bill stretched out then on his back and Laura lay beside him, pulling the blanket across them both. They both stared at the rock ceiling above them. Silenced reigned for a while, then she spoke.

“You know, this is the closest I’ve had to a vacation in years.”

Bill turned his head, looked at her. “Why?”

A smile danced at the corner of her mouth. “Workaholic,” she confessed then turned her head to look at him. “You?”

“Yeah, I’ve had vacations,” he smiled. “After six months locked up in a ship at a time, you jump at the chance for a little fresh air and sunshine.”

She looked up again and he did, too.

“Did you try new places or go to the same place every time?” she asked.

“Usually wherever we put into port. There was always some place you could stay, something to see or do,” he replied, a bit of melancholy setting in when he added, “The Colonies were rich in that respect.”

“Hmmm. In many aspects.”

It was silent a few moments then she turned onto her side. She laid a hand on his chest, caressed gently, asked softly, “What did you do for … this?”

Bill paused. This was territory they hadn’t ventured into. He wasn’t afraid or ashamed to tell her or to hear of her sexual past, should she choose to share it, but it could potentially be a minefield for one, the other, or both of them, even if they had nothing to hide or fear, even if no judgement was passed. He met her gaze. “Sure you want to know?”

A heartbeat passed then she nodded, her eyes holding a certainty. He smiled at her again, covered her hand with his. He dragged it down his body to cup his resting cock through the blanket and his boxers. “If you’re asking about this…,” he said, caressing the back of her hand briefly before releasing her, “… mainly this,” he held up his hand, “from the latter part of my marriage on.” His hand returning to hers, he continued his caress, murmured, “After the divorce, there were a few women, but no one regular.”

Curling his fingers around hers once more, he drew her hand back up and pressed it to his heart, watched her eyes closely when he continued. “If you’re asking about this…” He paused then shook his head, not quite knowing how to word the truth but he could tell from the look on her face that he didn’t need to — the shake of his head had been enough to tell her what she needed to know.

“I had wondered,” she confessed.

Intrigued, he asked, “Why?”

She shrugged. “Curiosity.” Her smile had a slightly guilty quality and her gaze flickered down to where their hands lay. Her voice was breathy when next she spoke, her smile easing into something sweet and intimate. “You’re uncommonly attentive.”

Touched, he made a confession of his own. “I haven’t always been.”

“Hmmm,” was her reply as she leaned over and kissed his nipple, just above where their hands lay. “I suspect it’s more that you haven’t always been motivated to be so.”

Bill smiled at her assessment. There was some truth in it, a great deal actually, but not the whole of it. There had been times when he’d cared for no one but himself and nothing but his own pleasure. And there’d been times his partner hadn’t wanted attentiveness — Carolanne had come to despise it, had called him controlling and said he was smothering her.

Bill pushed away those memories, murmured honestly, “Sometimes it wasn’t wanted,” as he slipped his hand from atop Laura’s and wound his fingers into her long, red curls. He rubbed her scalp and shut his eyes, enjoying the feel of her mouth on him, her own attentiveness as she kissed, licked and suckled him. The sensations were as delicate as her ministrations, filling him with a fluttering, contented warmth.

Eventually, she released him and blew a warm breath across his hardened and pebbled peak. “I like it,” she confessed.

He laughed softly and slid his other hand up beneath the hem of the tanks to rub her back in big circles. “I’ve noticed.”

Her answering hum was something akin to a laugh. She laid her head on his chest and slipped her hand down to his belly.

“This is so different for me,” she whispered, the tone almost as if it were an inner musing not meant to be said aloud, so Bill didn’t respond, just continued his touches to her body, waited to see if she would say more, share more. But she didn’t.

Bill wasn’t really surprised. Talking about deeply personal things did not come easy to her. They weren’t necessarily easy for him either, but something told him, he’d had more practice than she’d had at opening up about them.

Sliding his hand up and down her back, fingertips skimming the length of her spine, he found himself pained that no lover had apparently ever treated her properly and yet was happy that he was able to do so, that she seemed to be enjoying it.

He delighted in the soft exhalations and little shivers his touch elicited as they lay there, would have gladly spent the rest of his life doing only that, but sleep beckoned in time and they both answered the summons.

It was sometime in the early morning hours that Bill woke with the impression Laura was gone. Well, not gone, but she was no longer tucked against his body.

Opening his eyes, he found her sitting on the side of the bed, her back to him, her hair a tangled mess, and her knees were drawn to her chest. She had her arms wrapped round them and, from between her right index and middle fingers, dangled one of the herbal cigarettes. It was lit and smoking. He watched her lift chin from atop her knees and then bring up her hand to take a drag. She seemed … contemplative, more so that he would have expected given how at peace she’d seemed before they’d fallen asleep.

“Laura?” he rasped in concern.

Her reply wasn’t what he’d expected and came out amidst curls of smoke.

“I was having an affair.” Her voice trembled slightly with the confession. “It was on its way to ending, had been dying for a while actually.” She took another hit off the cigarette. “Funny thing is, I don’t really remember how it even began, or why I was still in it.”

Bill broke his silence when it didn’t look like she was going to say more. He wasn’t too terribly surprised at the revelation, considering her avoidance of emotional entanglements. An affair would have suited her desire to remain … detached. “You didn’t love him,” he said, keeping his voice quiet.

It was more statement than question but she treated it as the latter, responded with a resigned but truthful “no,” then sighed, “I think I was enamored at first, then it was just easy … convenient … uncomplicated.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him. She was largely in shadow from his vantage point, but he caught the glint of the tears in her eyes as she turned her head. The rest of her remained painfully still and a tendril of smoke continued to curl upward from the cigarette.

“Are you angry with me?”

That question did surprise him, but he carefully schooled himself not to show it. They both had pasts, had lived most of their lives before they’d ever laid eyes on one another. He had no reason or right to be angry over something that happened before he’d even met her.

Shaking his head, Bill said softly, “No.”

“Gods, you’re a good man,” she said in response then looked away from him, rested her head on her knees.

Unable to just sit there and see her so troubled, Bill went to her, easing from beneath the blanket and sliding up behind her. A leg to either side of her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and slid then slowly down along her arms.

She quaked at the caress, said hoarsely, “Shame is a funny emotion, Bill. After all those years, I am just now feeling it.”

“It tends to find you when you least expect it,” he rumbled in agreement, kissed her shoulder. “But feel it then let it go, Laura.” His lips sought her ear in the wild tangle of her hair, found it. There he whispered, “It is not needed here.”

The cigarette was snuffed out after one more long drag. Then she took hold of his hands and drew his arms around her.

Taking the hint, Bill held her, one hand clamping around the other, locking her in a tight embrace. For the longest while, they sat like that. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was crying. The tears were quiet and gentle, not copious or attached to sobs. They just were and she let them come.

When she’d apparently had enough, she reached her hands up to push her hair back and grumbled when her fingers got caught in a tangle. She extracted them and tried again. He smiled, hearing the muttered “frak” when the second attempt proved equally unsuccessful.

Kissing her shoulder once more, he issued a command, “Stay here.”

With that, he stretched back across the bed, reached for the duffle that contained his shaving kit. He snagged it, dragged it close enough to reach inside and fumble around for the kit. Locating it, he drew it out, opened it and pulled out his brush. She’d used it in the past, in his lavatory aboard Galactica, and he thought she might appreciate use of it now. Instead of turning it over to her, though, he set about brushing the long, curling tendrils himself and was rewarded with a veritable purr of delight.

With each stroke that followed, he felt her ease more and, by the time he was done, she was so relaxed that she was dozing in and out as she sat up. He knew the herb had a lot to do with it, but so had the brushing. She liked being touched, something he understood all too well. So much of the physical contact they had in their daily lives was cordial and indifferent. To be cared for in such a tactile way was a joy … and intoxicating.

Putting the brush away, Bill tossed his shaving kit toward the duffle then roused Laura from slumber with a murmur of her name and a gentle touch to her cheek. She turned her head, smiled at him through hooded eyes.

“Let’s lay down,” he entreated.

She nodded, her eyes falling closed, but didn’t move otherwise. He laughed softly. She was really out of it … and incredibly adorable.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Bill pulled her back against him and wiggled his way backward on the mattress, taking her with him. He then gently eased her over onto her side and slid his leg down and out from under her body. He was prepared to move her further up the bed but she woke enough to crawl the rest of the way on her own.

Bill watched her, smiling, waited until she was settled, laying on her stomach with one arm curled under her and the other bent beside her, before he moved up with her, nestled at her side, and pulled the blanket over them.

With a sigh, he draped his arm across her back then closed his eyes and slept.

Bill woke before Laura the following morning and took the time to watch her sleep. She was on her back next to him, apparently having shifted over at some point in the night. Her face was turned toward him, her hair like a halo of fire arrayed around her. One arm was bet upward, her palm up and open; the one closest to him was folded across her body, her hand laying between her breasts. The blanket hid the lower half of her body from view, but memory was kind enough to remind him of what it concealed.

His gaze returned to her face, took in the softness of her features, adored the little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She looked beautiful and vital.

It was hard for him to believe that just months ago she’d been on the verge of death from breast cancer, that he’d almost lost her to that damned disease, and would have if that idiot Baltar hadn’t found a cure. Bill hated to be beholden to Baltar for anything but he did owe him for that, more than the doctor would ever know if Bill could help it.

The prospect of leading the fleet, of living his life without her in it had frightened him immensely. She had become important to him in ways that he was only beginning to understand, ones that had taken him completely by surprise.

He had never expected to love again. He had never expected a woman, certainly not of her caliber, to even be interested in him considering he was an old man. Still, he’d known he had a lot to offer a partner.

He was a capable lover and faithful, and would be able to take care of tangible needs as well. Trouble was, he also knew he had a stubborn streak several light-years wide and was set in his ways in many respects. And some women found his stoicism infuriating because they didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling and became further aggravated if they asked him and he couldn’t put it into words or, gods forbid, told them and it wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

Love required accepting both the good and shortcomings in a person, though, and he hadn’t been hopeful of finding it at his age. But here it was, living and breathing, with long legs, gray-green eyes, and a turbulent mane of fire — not to mention a wealth of wisdom and compassion, and a stubborn streak to rival his own.

Bill smiled, thinking it a miracle they hadn’t killed one another in those first few months. That they’d survived the initial collision of their considerable wills had ultimately made them inevitable. The need to find common ground and work together had made it imperative that they understand one another. It had taught them acceptance and to appreciate and effectively utilize their individual and collective strengths, and helped them shore up each other’s weaknesses when needed. It had made them allies then friends and, out of friendship, had grown love.

And love has led to this, he mused, watching Laura take a deep breath then shift beneath the blanket.

Experience told him it wouldn’t be long before she woke, so he waited her out, reaching out to caress her cheek when she finally opened her eyes and saw him. A smile upturned the corners of her mouth.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Mmmm, morning,” she replied, taking an extended blink before her eyes opened wider, flashed bright. “Breakfast?”

Bill chuckled. She always woke up hungry after one of those cigarettes. So did he, but he hadn’t smoked last night.

“Yeah, let’s eat,” he told her then they both stirred, Laura enthusiastically taking the satchel from him when he dragged into the bed with them.

Bill left her to it, rose and slipped on his trousers. “I’m going to check the weather,” he said, sliding his bare feet into his boots. He grabbed his blue uniform tunic, not caring if it wasn’t the one that went with the green pants, shrugged it on then moved the makeshift door aside.

“Frak, it’s cold,” he complained, once in the crevice. Not wanting to lose precious heat, he called out to Laura, “Pull the door over ‘til I get back.”

“On my way,” he heard her reply then continued out to the ledge.

It was no wonder it was cold.

The world was white, the sky gray, and flakes were still falling, albeit not as heavily as they apparently had during the night. It was still and there was a hush over everything, that reverent one that always came with new snowfall. It made him smile in spite of the fact the ledge — their way out — was covered in a couple inches of the stuff. He couldn’t help it. Even as a kid, waking up to a world blanketed in snow had invigorated him. Hell, who was he kidding, he was practically giddy with youthful delight.

He wondered if Laura liked snowball fights.

His grin intractable, Bill ducked back inside, quickly replaced the door as he announced, “We’re snowed in.”

Laura looked up from rummaging through the food choices and smiled, eyes dancing. “You’re kidding?”

He shook his head. “Couple inches at least.”

Bill watch Laura set the food aside and rise. She headed for him and the exit with an excited, “I want to see.”

Chuckling, Bill gestured to her attire. She was only wearing one of his tanks, no pants, no panties, no socks. “I like that look, but you’ll want to put some clothes on.”

“Clothes. Yeah. Right,” she said, turning and looking for the sweats she’d seemingly commandeered for their stay. That was fine with him. He enjoyed seeing her in them and knowing he’d take them back to the ship smelling of her. At the moment, it amused him to watch her jerking them on hastily and with far less than her usual elegance.

“How many of those did you smoke last night?” he asked, when she tried for the third time to get her foot in the appropriate leg of the pants and missed.

“Just the one,” she giggled, looking over at him and nearly losing her balance.

He stepped up and offered her a supporting hand. “You sure?”

She nodded then grinned up at him as she successfully put the right leg in the right hole and yanked the trousers the rest of the way up. She then grabbed the sweat jacket and put it on. Her shoes were next.

“This is the first real snow we’ve had,” she told him, excitement evident in her tone. “We’ve gotten little showers of it, but it didn’t really stick to anything.”

She breezed past him, popping briefly up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek before heading out.

Bill reached down and grabbed the blanket from the mattress then followed her, working their makeshift door in place behind them. He squeezed again through the opening in the rock and joined her at the mouth.

“Gods, it’s just beautiful,” she said as he stepped up behind her and settled the blanket around her shoulders.

“Yeah,” he agreed, but his eyes weren’t on the snowy landscape that he’d surveyed earlier. They were on her, watching her bright eyes take in the wintry world outside their haven. Her smile was radiant enough for ten suns and it heated and melted him while leaving the snow untouched.

Her gaze fell on him when he eased closer to her. She turned as he approached, putting her back to the cold stone wall behind her, making just enough room for him to join her in the entrance fully. But he didn’t care about the scenery anymore — how could he when the most beautiful creature that ever existed was looking at him with such wonder and affection?

Their breaths were visible in the cool air, evidence of their quickening on display long before it was heard. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his cool-and-getting-colder fingers, but the tremble elicited in her frame had more to do with his touch than temperature. He knew because her eyes darted down to his mouth the instant he made contact. That anticipatory look shot heat straight through him, filling his chest with warmth, which promptly spread south to his groin, stirring in him a level of need that made no sense considering his age and the number of times they’d already been intimate.

He ignored the aching flesh in his trousers, though, and touched his lips to hers, their eyes falling shut in unison. He lingered a moment, then two, then gently moved his mouth against hers, lips caressing, covering, retreating, tugging.

Her hands pulled him closer, within the warmth of the blanket, fisting at his sides, in the material of his shirt. She let out little shuddering breaths from her nose and the warmed his stubble-covered cheek.

Everything was so quiet around them, even their kiss. He heard only soft breaths and an occasional smack of lips, the rustle of fabric brushing against fabric, brief, delicate sounds in the silence.

Slowly, he eased his hands up to take hold of her beautiful face and kissed her softer still, until she was humming in the back of her throat, her unique call for more. He provided, his mouth leaving hers to brush lightly across her brow, her cheek to her ear, where he whispered softly his desire to take her inside and make love to her.

That earned a different type of hum altogether, one that conveyed agreement and consent.

With a kiss to her cheek, he took hold of her hand, met her gaze briefly then led her back inside. While he closed off the entrance, she made her way over to the bed. He watched her move the food aside, chunking what she’d pulled out back into the bag, then putting the bag at the end of the bed. She started to undress then, but Bill stopped her with a gentle call of her name, wanting the privilege of undressing her himself — he’d yet to do that during this stay.

Approaching her, he took the zip-pull on the sweat jacket from her fingers. “Let me,” he said soft and low, his eyes dropping from hers to watch his hand slowly open the garment.

Her nipples were peaked against the tank she wore beneath, making little tents in the material and his mouth water. He didn’t know if he had her arousal or the cold to thank, but he was thankful to see them and know that very soon, they were going to be under his tongue, without barrier.

He guided the jacket over her shoulders and down her arms, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor when she pulled her hands free.

“Yes,” he breathed when she automatically raised her arms, inviting him to strip off the tank. He did so, gasping the hem and drawing it up slowly, revealing her inch by inch to his eyes, which followed the material’s progress, eventually bringing his gaze to hers.

“Beautiful,” he said softly then took her face in his hands, fingers slipping back into her hair. He peered into her eyes, murmuring, “Just beautiful.”

Then he was leaning in, needing to feel her mouth under his. He was almost there, almost, when a familiar voice filled the cavern, chattering and squawking from the hand-held radio that sat beside the bed. It was Helo checking in, probably concerned about “the old man” all alone in the snowy wilderness, Bill mused.

Returning the bemused smile that Laura gave him, Bill whispered his apologies then went over and picked up the radio. He told Helo all was well, that he had shelter and that the fishing had been good so far. The young man seemed satisfied and signed off, but not before asking when he could expect him back. Bill wasn’t sure, considering the weather, so he told Helo he’d check back within the next twelve hours with hopefully an ETA and asked the young man to get together a meteorological report on what to expect over the next few days.

With that, Bill signed off, put the radio back on the floor then joined Laura on the bed, where she’d taken up a seat and resumed foraging in the satchel for the breakfast she hadn’t finished earlier, one appetite apparently having supplanted the other.

As a young man, that would have bothered him. As an old man, he didn’t take offense or worry, especially with Laura. They were both pragmatic and some needs had to be met before others, and he knew that desire would return to them both and override everything else soon enough, probably even sooner than they expected. That’s the way it was when need and lust were born of love, especially when it was still so new.

Besides, he mused, taking the bottle of water she blindly handed him, the weather had just secured them more time here in their haven away from the world, time he intended to put to good use, loving her and being loved, in whatever way struck them as right in the moment.

Leaning over to look into the bag with her, he asked, “So what’s for breakfast?”

Haven II5.0510