Raindrops on Canvas

The random, hollow tap of raindrops on canvas. The howl of wind. The flicker of candlelight. The rustle of blankets. Gasps, sighs and moans. Words whispered urgently in the shadows. The glide of flesh against flesh. Bodies straining. Hearts racing … loving.

This was Laura Roslin’s universe, here, now, under Bill Adama, in his arms on this inhospitable New Caprican night.

There was no government for her to run, no papers to sign, no meetings to attend. There was just this.

Just passion. Sweat-slick skin. Slow, sensual kisses.

After two years on the run, with barely a moment to catch her breath between responsibilities, political hijinks and cancer, she’d finally found a bit of peace, of heaven — on a planet that was a veritable hell to inhabit. It was decadence, utter decadence.

And she was still breathless.

“Gods, Bill,” Laura moaned as her lover stretched her arm above her head then buried his face in her breasts to do scandalous things.

Bill Adama was a wicked man, possibly the devil himself. Or, more likely, he was an angel with divinely talented hands and mouth.

At the moment, Laura didn’t care which. She just sank a hand into his damp hair, into those sexy waves of salt and pepper and arched under him.

Baltar had forbade him to visit the surface in punishment for protecting her in the wake of the election fix attempt. The so-called president had ordered him to remain in orbit, to not set foot on New Caprica unless expressly ordered.

But Bill had defied the edict — albeit cautiously — often and with increasing frequency.

The last three nights, under the cover of darkness and torrential downpours, he had slipped into her tent then eventually into her.

Each night, her heart had raced when he’d entered her abode on a gust of wind then snapped the flap shut behind him and secured it. Then there was the visceral sight of him standing there in candlelight, streams of water running down his poncho and off the brim of his cap, his face a mask of stone that softened at the sight of her, soldier turned lover.

Lovemaking had been an inevitability. How was she to resist the lure of all that tenderness bound up in such strength and raw masculinity, of the affection and desire that filled those impossibly blue eyes of his. It devastated her every time she saw it. Each and every time, making her long to be wrapped up in all that he represented and offered, safe and secure, cherished and whole.

Usually they talked for a while before indulging their desires. There were contingency plans to be made, and contingencies for contingencies. They couldn’t afford to be without them if the Cylons returned. Tonight, though, they hadn’t even bothered with conversation. They’d simply shed their clothes and descended on her bed in a flurry of heated kisses and caresses that soon tempered into languid explorations of mouth and hand.

There was purpose to it. Each touch and kiss resonated with it. Laura didn’t know why, she just knew that it was. But later, by mid morning, she would understand, as the skies filled with squadrons of Cylon raiders, that this was a parting. It was as if they knew it was coming. But they didn’t.

Laura knew only her lover as he moved over and in her, had lost count of the number of times he’d taken her to the brink only to ease her away from it, each time more intense than the next. She yielded herself to him, let him have his way, whatever he wanted, however he wanted.

She trusted him to a depth that she did not fully comprehend but knew was right, more right than anything else in her life had ever been.

There was freedom in that trust. Freedom from inhibition and insecurity, from restraint. She was a wild thing in his arms, elemental, a being of emotion, sensation, and gloriously sensual thought.

She was a woman.

She was Laura.

She was his.

And he was hers.

“Come here,” she breathed, drawing his head up.

He came and kissed her soft and deep. She gasped when his mouth left hers, thrilled at the scrape of his emerging whiskers and tickle of his mustache as he nuzzled her neck. Then he was hovering over her and she looked up into his eyes. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver, the lust in it, the blatant love…

She ran her hands over his broad chest, delighting in his body. Every inch of him was precious to her, right down to his middle-age paunch and the horrendous scar that bisected his torso.

“Bill,” she groaned when he withdrew, leaving her body empty and aching to be filled.

She grasped his arms in desperation as he pushed himself up and sat back on his haunches. He gripped her elbows and pulled her up and into his lap as she folded her legs to sit astride him. Taking him in hand, she held him while he palmed her bottom and lifted her.

Once they were rejoined, she reached for the blanket that had fallen behind him and pulled it up around his shoulders. He took the ends and wrapped the material around her, too, guarding her against the damp chill that seeped in as the winds whipped her abode.

Laura’s head fell back and she let out a low hum of contentment when his arms pulled her to him, strong, steady bands of warmth winding around her, securing her against his chest. His mouth found her neck again, seared it with fluid caresses of his lips. She freed one arm from the blanket to wrap around his neck, a hand finding its way into his hair again — she loved how it felt between her fingers. She loved how everything about him felt, how he made her feel.

How in the hell his ex-wife had given this up with him, Laura had no idea. She could not comprehend ever letting this end. This loving adoration and smoldering passion with him was beyond inviting. That he was also her companion in every other way rendered it impossible to resist.

She felt linked, bound even to him, with him. He was a sun and she a planet locked, willingly, in his orbit.

Broad, gentle hands took hold of her face, prompting her to look at him. The blanket fell from her shoulders with the move, exposing her to the coolness that permeated the air of her tent. She shivered against him, but didn’t complain or reach for the blanket. Neither did he.

Instead, he shrugged the blanket from his own body and rasped, “Kiss me, Laura.”

She was happy to oblige, taking his mouth skillfully and with slothful eroticism. He moaned into her, glided his hands down her back in a single, smooth stroke that made her rise against him. His hands on her hips drew her back down, firmly.

It was her turn to moan, an almost plaintive sound, deep in her chest.

Against her lips, he whispered, his voice deep and thick, “I need you right here.”

Laura struggled for cognitive thought at his words, but somehow managed to breathe, “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Ride me,” he rumbled, the rawness of his words drawing a gasp from her. Not in shock but arousal — deep, intense, breathtaking arousal.

She did as he asked, commanded, hips rocking against his, never straying far.

“Good,” he murmured, one hand sliding up to caress her face as his other remained at her hip, subtly tracking her movements. He stroked her cheek and hair, matching her rhythm, nuzzled beneath her nose and kissed her mouth from time to time.

A hand at the back of his neck, Laura cradled him close, felt the rush of his breath across her chin and cheek. Her breasts rubbed against his chest while her other hand held to his thick biceps, relishing the shifting of his muscles as she flexed around him.

It was a dance, slow, sleek and sensual, and she knew he meant it to be that way.

Thick fingers tangling in her hair, he drew her head gently back then lowered his mouth to her neck. Finding her pulse point, he sucked slow and steady, marking her. She enjoyed it — the heat of his mouth, the pulling against her skin, the feel of his tongue lapping lightly. She was going to have to wear her gray cardigan with the high neck in the morning to hide it from the keen eyes of her young students, a thought that made her smile in spite of her rising passion.

She actually giggled when she considered what she was likely to hear if one of the youngsters caught even the tiniest glimpse of the love bite. The thought of chants of “Miss Roslin has a boyfriend!” was enough to make her laugh aloud.

Bill drew back and looked up at her, confusion marking his features even as a smile rose.

“What?” he asked, the faintest strains of laughter infiltrating his voice.

Laura took his face in her hands. “I’m going to have to hide your handiwork,” she confessed. “I have to face a room full of inquisitive children in the morning.”

His eyes darted to the spot he’d been attending. His hand moved down and he brushed a thumb over it, his smile blooming in full. It was one of unabashed male pride. She had no doubt he was seeing a bright red spot against her pale skin — she had always marked easily — and it would be darker by sunrise.

“Still a good color on me?” she teased.

“Yes.” His voice was a soft rasp when he nodded, his smile melting from amusement to tenderness.

His caress continued downward, to the swell of her breast. He found a place he liked then latched his mouth there.

Laura moaned, humor evaporating in the heat that rushed through her. She clutched his head in her hands, fingers tugging through his thick hair.

Hands grasping her hips, he urged her to move again. She complied and he aided, helping her find the perfect pace for both of them. When he began pushing up to meet her, she gasped, her hands falling to his shoulders. She gripped him tightly as his fingers pressed into the rounded softness of her behind, bringing her hard back to him.

He frakked her. Well. Deep and strong, lifting her knees from the blankets beneath them each time he rose. She held on, gasped and moaned, hummed … and said things … hot things, explicit things. He responded with a primal growl and strength that startled her.

She was on her back again without any recollection of how she’d gotten there and it didn’t matter. He was inside her, her legs were around his waist and his mouth was plundering hers as he drove them to a hard and fast finish. They both cried out with the intensity of it, bodies rocked by shudders that seemed powerful enough to have loosed rivets on Galactica’s bulkheads.

Laura actually lurched up to him, hugging him tightly with her whole body. His arms went around her and lowered her. Even as he shook uncontrollably and panted heavily, he shushed her gently, burrowing into her neck, dropping kisses between comforting murmurs.

Something inside her broke open when he did that. She found herself crying, not in heavy sobs but quiet tears as emotions welled up in her. She wasn’t one to cry after or during sex often, at least not in the past, but every time she’d been with Bill, he’d seemed to trigger it to some degree or another. That tenderness of his breached her barriers so easily but, surprisingly, she didn’t mind.

“All right?”

At the quiet question, Laura looked up at her lover. His eyes searched hers. She gave him a gentle smile and just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her throat felt raw and thick with her feelings. He didn’t push for an answer, which was so Bill — he never pushed. Instead, he kissed her, sincerely and sweetly, just touching his lips to hers and lingering.

Laura hummed softly and kissed him back, her hold on him easing. She slid her hands over the damp skin of his shoulders, fingers stroking him as they both still shivered. He was warm despite the cool air around them.

A calloused palm cradled her cheek. A sturdy thumb brushed through her tears. Looking at her again, he shifted his hand and reverently touched his fingertips to the fine wrinkles at the corner of one of her eyes. He smiled gently and whispered, “You are beautiful.”

Heart fluttering at his words, Laura whispered, “I’m glad you think so.”

When he replied, he lifted his chin in that way that indicated he would hear no argument to what he was about to say. “I know so,” he said in a soft, confident rasp.

She couldn’t help but smile.

Sometime later, Laura lay awake in Bill’s arms. He was spooned at her back, his head near hers, chin resting gently against her shoulder. His breath was soft and warm on her skin. Beneath the blankets, his hand held hers, where it rested between her breasts, while his other arm was stretched out beneath her head, serving as her pillow. His legs were tucked against hers, one just between them.

In the faint light afforded by the single candle still burning, she studied the contours of his forearm, the thickness of his wrist and how his broad palm spread out from there, branching into fingers solid and strong. She shivered unconsciously at the memory of those hands on her body.

“Cold?”

Laura shook her head even though gooseflesh rose. Outside, thunder rumbled and raindrops continued to pelt the sheltering canvas of her tent in endless sheets. The wind whipped.

The candle sputtered out, leaving them in darkness.

Gods help her, she hated everything about this planet and knew it was going to cost her people terribly in the end, but it and its savage weather had given her moments like these and those earlier with Bill, for which she would be forever grateful.

“Bill?” she whispered after many long minutes of silence, intending to ask him a question.

“Hmmm?” It was a rumble beneath her ear and was accompanied by a kiss to her neck. His fingers tightened around hers briefly before sliding along her arm then down over her belly. Her skin tingled with life wherever he touched.

Laura’s question was forgotten as his hand smoothed around her hip and down her thigh. She closed her eyes with a sigh that sounded thoroughly erotic to even her own ears.

His lips touched the rim of her ear. His voice was husky in the darkness. “Again?”

“Yes.” It was a breath.

Without a word, he shifted and drew her back with him, until she was partially reclined against him. His leg slipped farther between hers, lifted to open her as his hand slid around to the juncture of her thighs. The moan his first touch sparked was unstoppable. It fell from her lips in a rush. His other hand came up and covered a breast.

She turned her head toward him, longing for his kiss. He brushed his lips across her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. She felt the graze of his eyelashes against her temple.

“You’ve been neglected, Laura,” he rasped as his hands played her body, reached deep within, discovering her secrets and making her gasp. He hugged her closer to him in response and his hand came up to hold her face toward him. He craned and kissed her with a lover’s intent, drowning her in her own desire and need.

Hands grasping at his, she held to him as her body threatened to shatter under such intense seduction, at knowing he saw her so clearly, understood so perfectly what she needed, a need she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself and had never confessed to a lover. He just knew and, with that knowledge, possessed her.

It was the most tender, bold and erotic possession she’d ever known as a woman. It wasn’t about power, the sexual thrill, or about the glorious release to come. It was about the wild pounding of her heart when she thought about him, the giddy happiness she felt when she was just in the room with him, the sense of completion she felt when close to him.

“I need you,” she whispered hoarsely, pulling her lips from his.

Gentle fingertips grazed against one temple while his brow pressed to the other. “I know,” he murmured.

With those words and a confident thumb, he brought her the sweet madness, kissing her cheek and holding her securely as she bucked against him with a keening moan.

The rain had tapered by the time Bill rose to return to Galactica. The blanket wrapped around her, Laura walked with him to the entrance of her tent. He had donned his poncho and cap, stood there looking down at her with affection.

Lifting a hand, he touched the marks he’d made on her flesh, fingers grazing from the one on the rise of her left breast to the one at her neck to the last one he’d given her. It was on her left shoulder, where his mouth had made its home as he took her from behind just a short while earlier.

Laura’s body still thrummed with the pleasure of that joining and she blushed now at the memories of it, eyes drifting shut as an unexpected aftershock made her tremble.

His fingers tipped her chin up gently and she waited for his kiss. It arrived delicately but with unmistakeable heat. She hummed and pressed herself close to him, ignoring the coolness of the poncho. His hands moved down her arms then across her back. He embraced her, his mouth moving up to her brow, where he tarried, trailing soft kisses.

Laura leaned into each touch of his lips. She didn’t want them to stop. She didn’t want him to leave even though she knew he must. The tightness of his quick breaths told her he was of a similar mind. These goodbyes were never easy but this time it seemed more difficult than any before.

“I’ll miss you,” he rasped.

“Me, too.”

He pressed one last kiss to her mouth then released her from his arms. As he moved to release the ties that held the flap to her tent closed, Laura observed, “We didn’t talk business last night.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression serious. “There were more pressing needs. For both of us.”

Laura nodded then crossed her arms over her chest. She stepped back up to him, shivering when she began, “When the Cylons come–”

He stopped her with a finger pressed to her lips. His hand then moved to cradle her cheek. His blue-blue eyes stared into her, a fury blazing deep inside, surrounded by earnest affection.

“I’ll come for you.”

That was all he said, his gravelly baritone cracking with emotion. Tears sprang in Laura’s eyes, she covered his hand with hers, leaned into his touch, whispered, “I know.”

His mouth covered hers, quick and hot, claimed her as thoroughly as he had at any other time during the night. And then he was gone, moving away to open the tent flap and ducking through it without another word or glance in her direction.

Laura watched him go, knowing it was not the memory of him disappearing into the darkness that would remain with her, but that of seeing a tear track down his cheek before he stepped out into the rain.