I wrote this for the makebillhappy comm on livejournal. The prompt was 'make Bill happy out of uniform'. The stories were posted anonymously, so I used American spelling (as usual, I probably missed something).
"We have to take it offline," Chief said, his tone grave.
Bill removed his glasses and rubbed between his eyes, wondering just what else could go wrong.
"We'll need some time to prepare." His crew had never had to face such an eventuality. They were so young. He didn't even think the Fleet Academy covered the subject for more than a week anymore.
Chief nodded in agreement. "Liquid will be the biggest problem. One dripping tap would mean water getting into the control panels; frying up the systems; creating more problems for the Old Girl."
"Everything will need to be boxed up and tied down," Saul chimed in.
"How long do you think we have?" Bill asked.
"Six hours, give or take," Chief answered.
"And how long will we need?"
"The aim would be to take the main force field offline, repair and reset the emergency backup, and restart all systems within ten minutes," Gaeta told them.
"Ten minutes might be cutting it fine," Chief argued.
"Okay, Saul, let's get everyone moving," Bill ordered. "Tell the crew we have two hours to prepare. Water will be turned off at 1400 hours."
"Yes, sir." Saul snapped off a salute and headed back to the CIC to organize the crew.
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Bill heaved the final box into position in the corner of his room. It contained the glasses from his drinks' cart. There were ten boxes in total, containing the eclectic assortment of breakable items he'd collected throughout the years. He checked his watch. He was running on time. He'd already taped up his book collection, and tied down all his furniture, and there was still another half an hour to spare before the water was turned off.
A shower before that happened sounded like an excellent idea.
He made a beeline for the head. Pulling his clothes off and shoving them haphazardly into the laundry chute, he twisted the taps on and stepped under the warm spray of the shower. He indulged himself for a few minutes, letting the water pour over his tired muscles.
With a sigh, he turned off the water and toweled himself down, mindful that he still had a lot to do. Once dry, he threw his towel into the bottom of the shower tray, ready to mop up the excess moisture, and pulled on his worn robe.
He stepped out of the head and was in the action of tying up the robe when an alarm began to blare throughout his quarters. Two red emergency lights situated on the ceiling began to flash in tandem with the computer screens at the back of his room. Galactica then shuddered violently and he found himself lifting off the floor. Dee's voice blasted loudly through the ship's speakers.
"Frak it!" he said out loud. The six hours had somehow turned into less than two. His belongings groaned under the tapes and ties holding them down, but fortunately they all seemed to be holding firm for now. A few pens and pieces of paper which he hadn't yet got to drifted past him. He reached out and captured the bulkhead, intending to edge his way around to the comm unit.
He had only moved a few inches when another sound caught his attention over the volume of the emergency warnings. He pricked his ears, listening intently to what he thought sounded like a feminine squeal. Then, there was no mistaking what the noise was when he heard the President's instantly recognizable throaty voice calling out: "Commander!"
"Madam President!" he called, disregarding questions of why she was in his quarters for the more immediate problem of trying to rescue her. He pushed off the bulkhead with his legs and drifted toward her.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she gasped.
She was hanging upside down, her face a sickly green shade.
He watched in horror as she flipped around to do a complete 360 in midair. She let out a distressed groan. Once he finally reached her, he pulled her close, stopping her from spinning.
"Take deep breaths," he said near her ear.
The alarms in the room blessedly ceased.
She nodded, making small pitiful noises from the back of her throat.
He looked down and suddenly felt like making his own pitiful noises. Her breasts were thrusting upward toward his face, about to break out of the restraint of her obviously too-old and too-loose bra. They wobbled gently in his line of sight, alluring him into leaning down and burying himself amongst their loveliness. He saw her glasses were tucked into the front of her bra. At this stage, they were staying in place.
"I still feel like I'm going to be sick."
"Don't be. I don't wanna be the one to explain to the Fleet that Galactica's systems are having problems because the President threw up and fused the wires," he said, hoping to distract her with his weak attempt at humor.
"I could be wrong, Commander, but I think that Galactica's systems are already experiencing problems."
He took it as a good sign if her fighting spirit was returning. He was having trouble taking her seriously however, considering her hair was standing erect like some sort of monster dress-up wig for Solstice Eve festivities.
"Nothing the crew can't handle," he told her as her lower body began to float away. He never bothered to apologize when he planted his hand on her ass, dragging her close again.
One of her high heeled shoes floated surreally past their heads. It was followed soon after by a pair of his boxers. He would never forgo his meticulous nature in relation to the laundry chute ever again.
She snorted , then giggled prettily. He gave her a serious glare, one he saved up for members of his crew when they displeased him. She took no notice and continued to giggle softly into his shoulder.
He swiveled his head and looked down to see what they were hovering above, unwittingly catching a glimpse of her inviting breasts again in the process.
"We need to position ourselves above the couch," he explained, desperate to keep his mind off the curves of her body. "Lieutenant Gaeta and Chief Tyrol were estimating they'd need about ten minutes."
"How long have we been up here?" she asked, contorting her arm around his neck in an effort to read her watch.
"Probably not as long as it feels," he grunted when she slipped and dug into his shoulders with her nails. "Everything feels like it's in slow motion in microgravity."
"Like the Cabinet meetings I used to have to sit through on Caprica," she quipped.
Every few moments the lack of gravity caused her legs to drift backward. Every few moments he grabbed her ass and returned her to her previous position against him. This, of course, was driving him slowly insane. His mind was in its own free-fall with the inexplicable tantalizing feel of her thrusting against him constantly as he cupped her shapely ass.
"This isn't working," he conceded. Or working too well, one or the other.
"No," she agreed.
"I might try something. Can I touch your legs?"
"It sounds rather innocent compared to everything else going on at the moment."
Bill slid his hands down until they grasped her sleek thighs, gorgeously exposed as her skirt had crept up higher and higher, and maneuvered her legs around his waist.
"Hook your legs around me," he ordered gruffly.
She complied with a small hum. He felt as if he was now hanging upside down; all the blood was rushing to his head.
He began to swing them in a backward and forward motion.
"Commander?"
He paused. "Yeah?"
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to make it to the bulkhead. I need something to hold onto - leverage."
He dared to let his gaze lower to her face. It was flushed. Her blouse was lifted off her shoulders and he peeked inside at the dusting of freckles that was clearly visible against her glowing complexion. Her glasses were still, remarkably, hooked in place.
"Okay," she said, her voice shaky. "Let's go then."
He jerked his hips again, a little more unsteadily now. He slipped, her legs fell away and she began to drift again.
"Commander!"
"I've got you," he promised, his fingers hitched the collar of her blouse. He cursed the amount of times they'd laundered their clothes when he heard a faint tear of the material and watched as a button headed for the ceiling.
Time to take drastic measures, he reasoned. In one fluid movement, he untied the belt of his robe, hauled her back to fit snugly against his body, and re-tied the belt around them both.
He tried to superimpose Saul's skinny butt-ugly body for her enticing one in his mind as he resumed his thrusting motion toward the bulkhead.
"Just a little bit more." He reached out, and gripped one of the rivets in the bulkhead, stabilizing them against it. Now he only had to walk them around to the other side, push them into the center of the room and keep them hovering above the couch until the gravity was restored; all without thinking about how right the President felt where she was. No problem, he thought.
"Commander?"
"Yeah?"
"You do realize you've got nothing on under your robe?" she scolded gently.
"I was having a shower." His nonchalant reply didn't quite match the embarrassment he was feeling. Like everything else that was hanging loose, his manly private parts were pointing straight up.
"Okay, an alarm should alert us when the gravity is about to be restored," he said, attempting to maintain a businesslike facade. "When that happens, I just need to push us out, and we should be above the couch."
"A nice soft landing?"
"That's the plan."
He concentrated on mentally judging the strength he'd need to exert when he had to push off the wall. He contemplated how long the gravitational force field had been offline. He wondered at the damage he'd find it had caused during this time. He thought about how fortunate they were that most of their preparations for the lack of gravity had been complete. Anything except the fact his penis was now poking into the President's thigh.
"So we just stay here, you hanging onto the bulkhead, me tied to you, until then?"
He needed to distract himself. She smelled nice.
"Is it hurting?" she asked.
He immediately thought about one thing that was particularly aching, and how she could ease the pain. He shook his head, attempting to banish the thought. She meant his arms obviously.
"I have a strong grip," he assured her.
She hummed softly, before adding a quiet, "Lucky."
"Lucky?"
"That you have such muscular arms, strong shoulders."
Her voice was breathless, almost coquettish. He didn't need any reminders that she was female. He needed to change the subject.
"Why are you here?"
"Excuse me? I'm here because you dragged and tied me here," she said, deliberately misinterpreting his question.
"Why were you in my quarters?" He concentrated on keeping his tone curt. Being irrationally irritated with her had always helped with remaining immune to her charms up until now. "Did we have a meeting?"
"No."
"You didn't bother to announce yourself?" He became even more irrational, piqued that she didn't think he could be doing anything personal in his quarters. She didn't think the President was ever likely to interrupt the Commander with a lady friend? "I could have been walking around naked. Or—"
"I didn't expect you to be showering at this time of the day!" she snapped back. "And what difference would it have made if I saw you naked?"
"What difference?" he blustered.
"Yes! Trust me, this situation is not leaving anything to the imagination when it comes to your naked form anyway!"
Her mouth formed a thin line in her anger. He gazed at it, wondering what it would taste like.
"I came to get a new book," she finally admitted.
He loved the way she stubbornly needed the last word in every argument. Was it his imagination or was she now looking at him with a little uncertainty in her eyes? He needed to tell her he was just feeling frustrated and unnecessarily annoyed because of this situation. In reality, he wanted her to be comfortable in his quarters.
"Okay," he rumbled.
She peered at him suspiciously now. "Okay what?"
He sighed. "Okay, you can enter my quarters any time you want. You can take whatever you want from them. You never need to announce yourself."
Who was he kidding? She was the only 'lady friend' he wanted to visit.
"And if you're waltzing around naked?" Her anger had seemed to have disappeared, and her tone was now teasing.
"You could just avert your eyes and suggest I cover up. Or…" he trailed off, he couldn't really suggest that to the President.
"Or?" she prompted in a too husky tone.
He took a deep breath. She whimpered. The gap in her blouse became just too much for him to bear. He leaned over and flicked his tongue against the soft skin at the base of her neck. She writhed; if possible, he hardened even more.
They groaned in unison.
He tilted his upper body back, keeping their lower bodies together and studied her breasts again. They appeared to be quivering. His hands were occupied with gripping the bulkhead; he'd have to use his mouth to free them completely from their confines.
An alarm went off in his head. Then, he realized it wasn't just in his head.
"Brace for impact." Dee's calm voice mingled with the sound of the alarm. "One minute until gravity is restored. Repeat, brace for impact, fifty seconds to gravity is restored."
"Commander?"
"Yep, I'm good."
He pushed out from the bulkhead. He looked down. They weren't quite far enough. The couch was still a little to his right.
She tried to twist her head around to see beneath them. Some of her hair went up his nose.
"Madam President…Your hair…"
"Twenty seconds to gravity is restored. Brace for impact."
She turned her head to look back at him enquiringly. He acknowledged he wanted to see her like this again; lying beneath him with her hair fanned out on his pillow.
"We're going to land on the couch?" she asked.
"Ten, nine, eight…" Dee was counting down.
"Hang on," he said, giving them one final rotation so that she was above him. When they landed she'd now fall on top of him, instead of vice versa.
"…Two, one."
The sound of the alarms altered slightly and then, they were falling, crashing the short distance to the couch. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his back as it took the initial brunt of their fall.
The President patted him on the chest. "Commander? Commander, are you okay?" She leaned closer to his face, concerned.
He stretched and grunted. "Yeah," he assured her. "I'll probably feel like I've been run over by a truck for a few days, but I'm okay."
The volume of the alarms altered again until they became background noise.
She began to giggle uncontrollably. "I can't believe what we just did," she managed to say between gulps of laughter. "You might have to slap me."
"Slap you?"
"Yes! I think I'm becoming hysterical."
He smiled up at her. "Slapping the President doesn't sound like a good career move on my part."
"Getting naked and tying up the President does?" She cocked an eyebrow, yet her expression remained flirtatious and relaxed.
"I'd better untie you then."
He reached down, his hands accidentally brushed against her ass for one last pleasurable time, feeling around for the knot.
"Have you got it?"
"Lift," he ordered gruffly, fumbling for where the knot had slipped to-between their bodies.
She did as she was told - almost. He never told her to look down.
"Oh. It wasn't just the lack of gravity."
"No—" he said, his voice strangled.
"And it's not a soft landing then, I guess."
Her tongue moistened her bottom lip before her teeth gripped it. He moaned, her fixated gaze on his problem wasn't making it go away at all.
"Got it!" he said, triumphantly releasing the knot in his robe and freeing her.
She sat up, her knees straddling either side of him. He watched, mesmerized as she took his erection in her hand. "My turn for a firm grip."
He dropped his head back onto the cushions and squeezed his eyes shut. If this was a dream he didn't want to wake up just yet.
He heard a rustle and felt her weight lift back up off of him. Her hand remained on his cock; therefore he kept his eyes closed.
Then, the feel of her hand disappeared. He let out an anguished groan. It changed to a satisfied one when he felt her lower herself unhurriedly down onto his shaft. She was wet and tight and warm and he thought his head was going to explode.
She rocked gently. His hands blindly reached out to touch her. He felt the material of her blouse and skirt. She'd only removed her panties?
"Commander?"
His mouth was too dry to reply.
"Commander, are you going to open your eyes?"
"No."
She gave a low throaty laugh. "Why not?"
"You might stop."
"I'll have to stop eventually."
"Please don't," he pleaded.
He felt her change the angle of where their bodies were joined and then her breath, hot on his face. "I like it when you watch me," she said, her voice sultry.
He opened his eyes. Her face was right there. He gazed into her eyes. She was beautiful.
She smiled, and then threw herself back. He felt himself hit bottom. She emitted small humming noises, even though she was once again biting down on her bottom lip.
He lifted his hips, eager to feel even more of her. She began to move faster, yet everything was still in slow motion, just as it had been when the gravity was offline.
"Touch me," she begged quietly.
She didn't need to ask twice. He cupped her ass with one hand, his thumb rubbing circles over and around where her hip jutted out. His other hand moved in between them; his thumb rubbed circles over and around her clit. Her sounds of pleasure grew louder. She closed her eyes. He was mesmerized.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. She became almost frantic with her thrusts. The comm unit next to his desk started to beep.
"No! Gods, Commander, don't stop."
"No…Yes…No…"
"Yes! Commander…I…"
He watched in awe as she came apart above him. He had never seen anything as lovely in his life.
Then, he stopped thinking; his own orgasm taking him by surprise. He again squeezed his eyes shut throughout it, savoring every moment.
They were both still breathless, puffing heavily, when he opened his eyes. She'd rolled off to lay between his body and the back of the couch. She'd pulled down her skirt. It was quite disconcerting; her covered up while he lay flat on his back with his robe open. He pulled the lapels of the robe together.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
"I suppose," she answered slowly, "you call CIC, check the gravity is fully restored, check what damage was caused."
He sighed. She did too.
She reached out and buried one of her hands beneath his robe, stroking his chest absentmindedly. "I'm going to Cloud Nine in two days time for the first Quorum meeting."
"Yes."
"The President and the Commander getting a room together might be a little obvious."
"Yes," he drawled the word out to have more than one syllable. She was suggesting they do this again? Or was she trying to let him down gently?
She crawled over the top of him, snatched up her panties from the floor, and her glasses from the coffee table. He was impressed with her practicality.
She made her way to the head. He made his way to the comm unit.
She was rummaging in amongst the ten cartons when he hung up.
"I can't find my shoe. Your boxers landed over near your rack though. Very convenient."
He would ignore all her witty references to his old dirty underwear he decided. "Do you remember where you saw it last?"
"Not exactly. I'm afraid I had other things on my mind. Don't worry, I'm writing off the button."
He joined in with her joking. It would save him from thinking about anything more serious, like the fact he'd just frakked the President. "I'll add it to the damage report I'll present to you in a couple of hours."
"I'm impressed with your efficiency."
She limped around in one shoe. He searched around near the couch. "Here it is," she announced eventually from beside the drinks' cart.
"I need to get dressed. Go to CIC." It was time for him to get practical now.
"Yes, of course."
He stared at the pattern of the rug for a long minute, eventually finding the nerve to look up, anxious to gauge her reaction to what had just happened.
She gazed back at him, a nerve in her cheek twitched, neither of them spoke.
Finally, she leaned forward and her lips brushed across his cheek.
"You really know how to show a girl a good time."
She leaned back. She gave him a dazzling smile.
Five minutes later, she'd left, but he was still standing in the same spot, grinning like a fool.
The End