Title: The Other Side of Love Is
Author: Justine
Rating: MA
Category: smut, angst/romance with a kick of humor
Warnings: graphic sex, language
Spoilers: through 4x10
Summary: When the Admiral and the President are having a bad day, the entire fleet is too.
Notes: This is a WIP, but each part should also be able to be read as a standalone. It's a story I'll keep open for a while and keep adding on incidents as I feel like it.
Disclaimer: They're totally mine! (Am I am totally kidding.)
The Other Side of Love Is
By Justine
"I hated her now with a hatred more fatal than indifference because it was the other side of love." –J. August Strindberg
- - - -
Part One
"Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable." –Bruce Lee
- - - -
There was a fire in CIC.
Their eyes were locked in a tangle of ferocity and behind those eyes laid fiery emotions, like flames, bursting through dilated pupils. Her skin reddened to a tint similar to her hair. He clenched his jaw and took on the appearance of a man of steel, the image that created a sense of fear among his soldiers. Laura Roslin was not a soldier, however, and in fact a woman of obstinance. That woman was not about to back down.
There was a fire in CIC.
It was growing out of control as the seconds ticked by. Valuable seconds, Saul Tigh mused as he watched the two leaders of humanity stand opposite of each other at the DRADIS console.
The flames curled upward among thousands of tiny sparks.
"Mr. Gaeta, begin jump," Adama ordered his officer who, in return, set his hand in position to commence faster than light procedures.
"No," Roslin countered. "Mr. Gaeta, belay that order." Her voice was low and cold.
Lieutenant Felix Gaeta looked as if he'd seen a ghost, beads of sweat dripping down his glistening face, his hand shaky as he withdrew it from the controls. He looked nervously back and forth between the President of the Colonies and the Admiral.
Seeing the officer's reaction, Adama grew even more furious. He took his eyes off of Roslin and took step after step towards Gaeta.
"Lt. Gaeta."
"Sir," he answered.
"Who is your senior officer?"
"You are, sir."
"And whose ship is this?" Adama pressed, leaning forward and meeting Gaeta's nervous gaze with his own, intense eyes.
"Yours, sir."
"Then what seems to be the problem? I gave you an order!" Adama barked. "Commence jump!" he ordered, "and if you fail to comply, you will be permanently relieved of duties."
"Mr. Gaeta," Roslin said. "We cannot take chances. Would you risk jumping the entire fleet into the hands of the Cylons?"
"Madam President, I'll have my marines escort you out of CIC," Adama said, his fists clenching at his side.
"What, are you staging another coup, Admiral?"
"This is ridiculous! Mr. Gaeta, commence jump!" he snapped.
Gaeta, still looking miserable, wavered his hand on the controls. His eyes met Roslin's, and then Adama's, and he silently wondered what he was thinking when he joined the military. Finally, as his eyes traveled back to Roslin, he released the controls and stood up.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the President's right. We have no reason to trust Kara Thrace, and I will not be held responsible should we end up in the middle of a Cylon fleet." His sudden outburst was surprising even to him, and he winced, waiting for Adama to order him back to his quarters or to rip the medals from his uniform, but instead, the Admiral leveled his gaze back on the President. He took a step towards her, their eyes piercing through the fiery mess that was their anger.
There was a fire in CIC.
- - - -
Two hours earlier
Several days after the Trial of Gaius Baltar
Beads of sweat followed by raking nails left moist, red trails down the skin of his back. His mouth captured her shoulder and he bit down, not quite hard enough to draw blood but enough to emit a moan from underneath him. He felt her legs tighten around his waist, encouraging him on. Her hands on his chest now, traveling to explore the flexing muscles in his arms as her hips arose to meet his with each thrust into her warm depths. She cried out and her walls began to tighten around him. She reached for her release—not just a physical release, but a mental struggle to let go of all the reasons he'd thrown her onto the rack in angry desire not long ago, her fists beating into his chest as she obstinately refused to forgive him for betraying her with his vote.
She would forgive him. And as felt her muscles continue to contract and the pleasure heighten within her, she realized she already had.
The receiver gave off a shrill buzz that caused both of them to be startled immediately out of their ecstasy.
"Godsdammit!" he yelled, his cock coming to a screeching halt inside of her.
"For frak's sake, Bill, just let it go. They'll call back later."
"No," he mumbled, pulling out and rolling off of her, "it's late at night, it could be important."
She let out an unsatisfied puff of air and shivered at the sudden loss of warmth. Reaching for the sheets, she watched him grab the receiver.
"What!" he barked. He grimaced then, glancing over at her auburn hair spilled over his pillow, her sweaty body wrapped in his sheets, and the scowl she was sending him with cold, green eyes. "I see," he finally said, listening to the speaker on the other end of the line. "I'll notify the President, yes. We'll be there shortly."
Bill slammed down the phone back into its proper place and turned back towards her.
"We appear to have stumbled across an abandoned vessel of some kind, possibly a road mark," he murmured, barely meeting her gaze before he jumped out of the rack and began pulling his pants on. "Or at least, that's what Kara says."
"Wonderful," she said sarcastically. Running her fingers through her hair and wiping off her sweaty forehead, she continued to scowl.
"You should be there too, just in case it is a road mark of some kind like she suspects," he stated simply while pulling one his tanks over his head. He looked around the room for any signs of the other one, and when his search turned up unsuccessful, he grumbled and reached for his jacket.
"Of course I should," she replied flatly.
They dressed in silence, the room still dark, both of their bodies humming with unsatisfied need and laden with all sorts of stickiness, a feeling that was rather displeasing. As Laura walked towards the hatch closely behind Bill, first stopping by the head to try to make herself look as if she hadn't just been getting an incredibly good angry frak (which she guessed would have been followed several hours later by an incredibly good makeup frak), the stickiness between her legs deemed itself to be an awkward feeling, especially when she was about to march right into CIC and attempt to put on her presidential façade.
"Did you…you know, finish?" he asked, retrieving his glasses from the table.
She stared at him dully and exhaled disgustedly.
"Finish?" she asked in disbelief. "What, you couldn't tell?"
"Well, I don't know, you seemed close. Forgive me, but I was a bit distracted by a certain interruption," he replied mockingly, moving towards the hatch.
"Oh my gods," she said, again in total disgust, and shook her messed auburn curls She donned her own glasses and crossed her arms. "Just go."
He sighed and wanted to protest but decided it best to just follow orders. After all, the two of them were exceptionally irritable and needed to wear a persona of professionalism before their subordinates.
The walk to CIC was wordless. She refused to walk by his side, keeping a step or two behind him, because while she had indeed already forgiven him over the trial, his one-track mind had just failed to give her what seemed to be the starts of a simply amazing orgasm.
Frak you, Bill. She was not going to be playing very nicely until he found a way to redeem himself.
- - - -
Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be up shortly.