Title: From Here
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Character(s): Bill Adama, Laura Roslin
Pairing(s): Bill/Laura
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: They haven't talked about this, but she doesn't care. [For the fifth porn battle, prompt 'silence'.
-
They're not loud, the first time; she hadn't expected it to be that way when it finally happened, but she finds it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone make a sound, as his lips trace her collarbone and his rough, warm hands press her back against the cold metal wall. They shouldn't be here, hence the quiet; were President and Admiral discovered together, in this place, engaged in this particular activity, it might not surprise anyone but it wouldn't make the Quorum happy.
Thought and worry have flown, all of a sudden, with the delightful scrape of his teeth against her nipple, and she gasps for air. Those skilled, practised hands are sliding lower, unzipping her skirt and she doesn't care; doesn't care that what they're doing hasn't even been discussed beyond the heat of a shared gaze, beyond the slow ache of a brief, lingering touch, beyond a tender kiss on the verge of death. Can't care.
She pants his name, almost under her breath as his callused fingertip strokes her through her ruined underwear, and claws at his still-covered back with her nails before shoving her hands roughly down to the task of releasing him, at least partly, from his uniform pants. A low groan escapes him when he finally eases down the last cotton-and-elastic barrier separating his skin from hers and slams into her; she's more than ready and she's wanted this for too long, tight around him as he mutters incoherent words into her neck, supporting her with his arms around her waist as he thrusts. It doesn't take much for them both to climax, the anticipation built up igniting in flames of desire that burn even beyond it, as she shudders around him and holds on for dear life.
"Laura," he whispers, after, with a sense of wonder in his voice.
"Mm-hm?" She's smiling, dreamily, as they slide apart and begin to dress, an awkward exercise together in the cramped storage space but no more so than their previous activities had been, and she looks up at him with an almost kittenish expression. Her hair is beautiful in the dim light, he notices. As always.
"Have dinner with me, tonight?"
"Oh, Bill, you don't even need to ask." She tries not to giggle, kisses him one last time for the pleasure of being able to do so, and steps sideways out of the closet, as neatly put together as she ever is.
He stays there for a while longer, just grinning to himself.
-fin
