Control
By: Littlestrawbaby
Rating: R
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
A/N: I don't own anyone. I'm just playing around. Inspired by the song "Control" by Puddle of Mudd.
Spoilers: KLG 2
He thinks, as she slides onto him, joining them again—at last— of all the things that make this thing between them wrong. Casual sex has never really appealed to him but he is powerless to resist her. He cannot command her; even as she pins him to his desk, her body moving against his, she retains control. But as the desires of his body overtake him, he thinks that he could have refused her entry if he'd wanted to.
Smug bitch, he thinks, as he stares up at her expressionless face.
This is exactly what she wants from him, emotionless, no-strings-attached sex. It is the only way she can really let go. She thinks of Adar, of similar moments like this, better times with a man she truly had affection for. Adar was easier to control; he was lead by his dick. The man beneath her arches and pleasure washes over her—Adama had been harder to seduce.
She has a final coherent thought: I can't control him, but there's one power I have over him that he simply can't deny.
It is very late and neither bothers to stifle their cries of release. She doesn't collapse onto him—her hands are splayed on the desk, on either side of his torso. Her eyes are closed and her breath is coming in fast pants. His grip on her pelvis relaxes and his hands slowly slide to her lower back, trailing down to cup her ass.
"You know the rules," she snaps. Her eyes open and she stares coldly at him.
"I think you've proven that they're made to be broken," he says sharply, their eyes lock.
"Not my rules."
"Especially yours."
"Are you going to give it to me or not?" she demands, climbing off of him.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because—" he begins, pushing himself onto his elbows to meet her gaze.
"It's a military decision," she mocks angrily. She reaches for his undershirt and wipes the evidence of their transgression from her thighs.
"Exactly, Madam President. You gave control of the fleet's defense to me, remember?"
Roslin seethes as she pulls her clothes on. She hears a seam rip and curses herself for being so careless, for allowing Adama to get to her. She slips her jacket on and tugs her hair from under the collar as she hisses, "I always get my way, Will, so don't frak with me."
The End
