The bones of her spine were prominent against the sheer fabric of her shirt, her frail body curved, hunched over the small fire that burned away hope, ashes and shattered dreams. Feeling defeated, she clamped her eyes shut momentarily in frustration -- the smell, the smoke and the crumple of burning pages lacing gently around her senses. Her heart stammered in it's guilt and grief and book where she'd read devastating lies and blew death with every exhale. A low moan escaped from her mouth in sync with a shuttered breath...and she wished she would die already.
Fire ate the pages, licking at each word, crumbling into charred ashes. Each expectation, every promise, all faith devoured. Roslin's body wracked with near silent sobs as she clutched herself, embracing despair.
"...Have faith, Laura." said the gentle voice, that mingled with the quiet trickle of water, followed by the soft hiss of flames ebbing.
Strong arms embraced her from behind, lifting her deftly from her knees to her feet. Roslin couldn't help but brace herself against the firm body. "Bill." she said softly, shutting her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her fragile hand reaching down with long trembling fingers, weaving around his more steady digits, raising his knuckles to her lips briefly before sliding their hands along the contours of her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts. "Help me." She pleaded with a whisper, her voice a croon, sensual to the core. She was burning.
He succumbed to her plea, aged, war torn hands sliding beneath the fabric of her light shirt, skating back over her flat stomach, ignoring the ribs that protruded out beneath stretched skin, thumb finding and stroking the sensitive nipples that had already perked up at a mere touch. Laura groaned slightly, almost forgetting the painful feelings that she'd had moments before, as Adama's large hand cupped her breast, squeezing in a fashion that shot fire and heat between her legs.
His lips brushed against her neck, butterfly kisses, too scared to hurt her, but too frightened to have her not feel a thing. His tongue met salty skin and the hand that had been resting on her hip, plunged downward, beneath the stretchy waistband of her sweatpants. His fingers found the soft, already moist fabric of her underwear and he chuckled softly in her ear, "Oh Laura." He pressed hard against her and she gasped, laughing slightly at the same time.
Adama's fingers moved against her rhythmically, fabric moving against flesh, flesh pulsating. Her breath came out in soft spurts, as one hand reached up behind her, hand clamping around his neck. It wasn't enough for Adama, too much fabric in the way. Moving the underwear to the side, his fingers reached for their prize. Three fingers inside the president made her twitch and moan more loudly than any speech she'd ever made, thumb rubbing against her clit, igniting a larger fire than the one that had lit up the book.
She panted, her eyes staring up at towards the Gods. If there were any Gods. Her faith had seemingly died, but something new was rising. The Admiral's fingers pulled in of her and out of her, speed steadily growing, and she felt her legs weaken, spread apart a little more for him. "Bill..." She moaned, feeling her fingers grasp against his neck.
The hot sensation was coursing through her, beads of sweat, glittering against her skin. Her bandanna askew, falling against his cheek as she ground against his hand, bony hips moving fast, bucking against his almost torturous fingers.
"Gods!" was the only word that tumbled from her mouth as the fire plummeted throughout her, burning her up. She shuttered and convulsed, her legs collapsing beneath her, held up only by Adama's strong hands against her breast and between her legs. Turning her head, her mouth met the Admiral's in a deep kiss. She was spent and weak, but her faith had not been broken. The president would not be defeated.