The former President of the Twelve Colonies was spending her final days in space aboard Galactica. Laura Roslin had packed up and vacated the ship that had been her home for two years, made way for her successor, the people's choice, Gaius Baltar. Admiral Adama was putting her up in guest quarters until she joined the rest of humankind on the surface of the planet that was to become their new home.
Having endured another long day, made longer by the fact that she had precious little to do, Laura was restless. Though she appreciated having access to stacks of books, she'd have much preferred passing the seemingly endless hours of "free time" with the thoughtful man who'd stocked her temporary abode with tomes from his own collection. But Bill was still the Admiral, was busy making preparations for the fleet's permanent settlement on New Caprica. He'd stopped by every morning and they'd talked over coffee about her ideas for a school, his latest effort designed to ease the population's transition to the planet. Inevitably, the plans they'd make to meet for lunch would be canceled with an apologetic call to her from Bill in CIC, where some crisis or another required his immediate attention. Laura hadn't been surprised when he'd called to "reschedule" their prearranged dinner tonight, but she had been disappointed.
She was going stir crazy. Unable to focus on the book she'd picked up, Laura closed it and slammed it down onto the end table. She made the snap decision to take a walk around the hulking ship she knew she'd come to miss once she was planetside. She donned her shoes and headed out, no particular destination in mind.
Laura found the freedom of moving around without the entourage to which she'd been accustomed exhilarating. She was easily able to make her way through the corridors of the old battlestar unnoticed, poke her head into rooms and storage lockers she hadn't even known existed. She'd briefly considered stopping to take in the view from the Observation Lounge, remembered its ad hoc function as the crew's make-out spot and kept walking. Laura was pleased when, eventually, she pushed through a hatch that led to the ship's galley.
The fact that the kitchen was empty of personnel made it all the more inviting to Laura. She walked the length of stainless steel tables, running her fingers along their smooth surface as she passed. She headed for the industrial refrigerators against the wall opposite the door, curious as to what edible goodies might be stored within. As she opened the long, heavy door on one unit, began to peruse its contents, the hatch creaked open to admit Kara Thrace. Laura turned quickly around, let the door to the appliance fall shut behind her, looked up to meet the surprised captain's gaze across the stark room.
"Raiding the fridge, Madame President?" Kara teased.
Laura felt the beginnings of a blush creeping up her neck, embarrassed at having been caught snooping.
"It's just Laura, Captain," she replied. "And, no, I was not 'raiding the fridge.' I was just... looking," she said with mock indignation.
Kara grinned, amused by Laura's discomfort, oddly pleased to see the older woman so flustered.
"Mm hmm, " she said as she came to a stop in front of the former president. "You better not have taken the last of the popsicles," Kara warned.
"Popsicles?" Laura asked with a chuckle. "Galactica's tough-as-nails ace pilot is sneaking around in the middle of the night in search of popsicles?"
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Madame Pres - Laura," Kara said with a mischievous smile and a raised brow.
"Everyone's tried a popsicle, Kara," Laura said, rolled her eyes. "But most people give them up after their 12th birthday."
Kara laughed, reached into the freezer section of the oversized fridge and snagged two of the frozen snacks. She released the long handle on the outside of the door, let the hinges do their job in making sure it sealed to the unit. She gave Laura a patronizing glare as she turned to the counter beside the refrigerator, grabbed an insulated container and dropped the wrapped popsicles into it.
"Now that's a real shame, " she said, eyes focused on her hands as she snapped a lid onto the container.
Satisfied that her frosty indulgence was well protected, Kara folded her arms across her chest, looked back at Laura.
"There are plenty of adult ways of enjoying a popsicle, if ya know what I mean," she said, winked.
Laura blinked at the young pilot, cocked her head as she was slow to process her meaning.
"Well, it's been great talking to you, ma'am, but I've got a hot man in my bunk waiting for a cold treat, so I've gotta run," and with that, Kara scooped up the plastic container and made for the hatch.
Laura watched the younger woman's retreating back, her mouth hanging open in mild shock. When Kara exited the kitchen and banged the hatch closed behind her, Laura clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head at the thought of what Captain Thrace might have planned for Sam Anders and the purloined popsicles.
She straightened suddenly, intrigued by the possibilities. Could she? Well, yes, she could, but should she?
'Frak it," Laura thought, 'Kara's right: you're never too old to appreciate a popsicle.'
She followed Kara's example, took two from the freezer, placed and sealed them in a container and headed out - this time, with a definite end point in mind.
****************************************
The nearer her measured steps took her to her intended destination, the more nervous Laura became. She was second guessing the brilliance of her ill thought out plan when she topped the stairs that led to the Admiral's quarters. She attempted to banish her doubts when she came face to face with the two marines stationed outside Bill's hatch, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to still. She greeted the soldiers, asked whether the Admiral was in, her tiny hope that he was still on duty quashed when one confirmed that he was indeed inside. The other guard picked up the comm and rang the Admiral, alerted him to the former president's visit and ushered her in after he'd gotten the okay.
Bill came around the bend from his work area as the hatch clanged shut behind Laura. She knew instantly that she hadn't woken him because he was still dressed in his uniform, though the buttons had been undone at his collar. The warm smile and raised brow with which he greeted her suggested her unannounced social call was a pleasant surprise. Laura returned the smile, stepped further into his living area.
"Hi," she said shyly.
"Hi," he replied, chuckled.
"I'm sorry about the late hour, but I got cabin fever, went for a walk and, well," she shrugged, "ended up here."
"Don't be sorry, Laura. I'm glad you stopped by," he assured her. "Come in, sit" he said, indicating the couch.
She moved past him, took a seat on one of the leather cushions and watched as he followed, sat down beside her.
"Did you bring me something?" Bill asked curiously, nodded to the container she held on her lap.
"Oh! Yes. Yes, I did," she said, looked down at the plastic box. "I thought ..." she hesitated, unsure of how she should proceed.
"You thought?" he prompted.
"I thought we could at least share dessert," she said. "You know, since we didn't get to have dinner."
Bill grinned at her, nodded.
"That's a great idea, Laura, thank you."
Laura smiled, stared back into the blue eyes sparkling at her from behind Bill's glasses, his easy acceptance of her unexpected visit going a long way towards helping her relax.
"So..." he said. "What's in the box?"
"Oh gods," she laughed, "I'm sorry - here," and she presented him the container.
Bill took the box from her hands without taking his eyes from hers, brushed the tips of his fingers over hers in the exchange. Laura's smiled faltered at the innocent touch, her heart jumped in her chest. When Bill looked down to remove the lid, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, silently chided herself for her school girl reaction. When he reached in and pulled out the two popsicles, he chuckled.
"I haven't had a popsicle in years - decades probably," he said as he held them up.
"Neither have I," Laura responded, "but I've recently been reminded that they're not just for kids," she continued, smiled coyly and raised her eyebrows.
With a bit of a puzzled look on his face, Bill handed her one of the popsicles and both tore open and removed the white paper wrapping. Laura's face lit up when she discovered hers was red - cherry flavored and her favorite. Bill's was purple - grape flavored. They touched the tips together in toast and brought them to their lips. Bill promptly bit off the top of his, chewed the slushy purple ice and swallowed with an appreciative dip of his head in her direction.
Laura slowly pushed the tip of her red popsicle through the aperture of her pursed lips, closed her eyes as the cherry flavor overwhelmed her taste buds. She sucked, drawing more of the flavor, the red coloring from the icy treat into her mouth. She withdrew the popsicle from her mouth with an enthusiastic hum, opened her eyes and looked directly at Bill.
Bill sat frozen, the hand in which he held his purple popsicle stopped just shy of his mouth. His gaze was focused on Laura's mouth as she slid hers between her lips again, drew more of it into her mouth than she had the first time, sucked as she pulled it out. She smiled seductively at him.
"How is it?" she asked, nodding towards his forgotten popsicle.
"It's good, Laura. Very good." he whispered in reply, snapped his smoldering eyes up to hers.
"Can I have a taste?" she asked, voice low.
When Bill held his popsicle out to her, Laura leaned in, swirled her tongue around the blunt tip and sucked it into her mouth. She kept her green eyes locked on his, saw when he dropped his gaze to stare at her lips moving along the length of his popsicle. She pulled her head back, licked her lips slowly when she released it from her mouth, sat back and gave him a sly smile.
"You're right, Bill - it is good" she said, smirked. "Would you like to try mine? It's cherry."
"I'd be crazy to pass up the chance of having your cherry in my mouth," he rumbled, eyes dark.
Laura bit a chunk off the end of her popsicle, curled her tongue to cup around the red ice, leaned forward and extended it to Bill, dared him to take it with one raised brow and a piercing gaze. He held her gaze as he leaned in, wrapped his lips around her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, sucked the ice from the intimate cradle. Her eyes slid shut and she moaned as the tip of his wet tongue caressed hers, the cherry flavored ice melted with the heat of their kiss. Bill drew his face back from hers, watched as a thin stream of red juice ran from the corner of Laura's mouth down her chin. He put two fingers under her jaw, lifted her head and licked the sticky fluid from her face.
When he dropped his hand from her face and sat back, Laura opened her eyes, saw that Bill had stretched and was depositing his popsicle in the open container atop the coffee table. He turned, took her hand in both of his, peeled her fingers back from the stick, reached out and dropped it into the box as well. He raised her hand to his mouth, slowly licked the syrupy liquid that had run from her melting treat. Laura watched his tongue dart out, smooth over the fleshy skin between her thumb and forefinger, moaned when he sucked her thumb into his mouth.
Bill released her hand, placed it in her lap, reached up and pulled her glasses off her face. He plucked his own from behind his ears, set both pair on the table in front of them.
"Laura -" he began, voice low and husky.
She dove at him, cut short whatever he'd been about to say when she pressed her lips to his with a throaty moan. Laura wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her chest to his, drove him back into the cushions until he was flat on his back. Bill was happy to reciprocate her ardor, threw his arms around her back and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Laura panted into his mouth, he groaned into hers as their tongues wrestled for dominance. Their open mouthed kisses were wet, sloppy, loud - uncontrolled as their pent-up tensions were unleashed at last.
Bill tightened his arms around her, pulled her feet up off the floor, rolled her over his body until she lay on her side, sandwiched between the soft back of the couch and his hard body. He pressed himself to her, pushed his erection into her hips and sucked in a ragged breath at the contact. He slipped a hand down and over her breast, squeezed and kneaded the generous c-cup through her shirt, bra beneath. Laura arched into his hand, hummed at his rough handling. She reached between them, rubbed the length of his hard-on through the thick fabric of his uniform pants with the heel of her hand. Bill slid his mouth from hers, bit hungrily at her neck -
And the comm buzzed.
"Son of a bitch," he growled, extracted himself from their tangled embrace and jumped off the couch.
Laura rolled heavily onto her stomach, planted her face in the smooth leather cushion and groaned in frustration at the interruption.
"Adama," Bill said gruffly into the receiver he'd yanked from its base.
Laura turned her head towards his voice, watched his chest heave as he attempted to slow his breathing, eyed the impressive bulge in the front of his trousers as he stood with a hand on his hip. He rolled his eyes, slammed them closed and dropped his head back in reaction to whatever he was hearing over the comm line. Bill looked over at her, anger and frustration apparent in the strong set of his jaw as he shook his head slowly.
"I'll be right there," he barked into the phone, banged it violently back into place on the wall.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. Laura sat up and put her feet on the floor as he started back to her.
"Laura, I'm sorry - you have no idea how sorry - but I have to go," he said apologetically.
She stood as he came to a stop in front of the couch, smoothed her palms down her thighs to straighten her pants, nodded her head.
"I understand, Bill, it's okay," she said, tried to cover her disappointment with a weak smile.
He pulled her into a tender kiss, hugged her tightly.
"Thank you for dessert, " he whispered into her ear.
She chuckled, stepped out of his embrace and lifted a hand to his bristly face. She looked into his eyes, saw her disappointment mirrored there, curled her lips into a little smile.
"I'll see you later," she said, her tone non-committal, bent to retrieve her glasses from the table and walked out.
"Frak," Bill cursed as the hatch sealed upon Laura's exit. "Godsdamnit."
He ran a hand through his hair, looked down at his obvious erection.
"Frak it," he said aloud, turned and stepped quickly into the head.
He threw back the shower curtain and grabbed his bottle of shampoo. He planted his feet on the deck, toes up against the shower pan, unfastened his pants. He reached into his boxers, pulled out his cock and squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto the tip. He tossed the bottle into the shower, spread the thick, slippery liquid around the head of his cock, down the length, began fisting his dick with tight, quick strokes. He came quickly, grunted Laura's name as he spurted into the shower.
Because time was short, Bill took his hand off his dick before it stopped twitching, turned the water on to rinse the evidence of his orgasm from the tiled floor of his shower. He grabbed the damp washcloth looped over the faucet, hastily wiped his softening cock before he stuffed it back into his underwear. He zipped, buttoned and belted up, washed his hands and charged out of the cabin towards CIC.
****************************************
Laura had spent another endlessly boring day cooped up in her quarters aboard Galactica. Bill hadn't stopped by in the morning, presumably because he'd worked through the remainder of the night after they'd parted company. He had called late in the afternoon, told her he was "hitting the rack" and promised he'd talk to her later.
It was later, late even, and Laura had neither seen nor heard from Bill. She stripped out of her clothes, headed for the small bathroom and a hot shower before bed. She washed and rinsed her hair quickly but let her hands linger as she worked the soap into a lather over her breasts, her belly. The hot spray of water pelted her back and she closed her eyes, slipped a hand between her legs and moaned. In spite of, or due to, the fact that she'd gotten herself off upon returning from Bill's quarters the night before, her body continued to thrum with need. She was sensitive to her own touch, more so when she closed her eyes and imagined Bill's strong hands moving over her clit. She called up the sound of his deep, rumbling voice, somehow soothing in its gravelly roughness, heard her name as he'd spoken it passionately the previous night.
Laura was rudely awakened from her fantasy by the cooling of the water flowing from the shower head. She sighed, turned the faucet off and reached for a towel. She hurried to pat herself dry, anxious to bring herself some relief, rubbed the absorbent cotton over her head until her heavy, wet hair was only damp. Just as she'd flipped her long locks over her back and straightened up, she heard a rapping at the hatch in the outer room.
"You've gotta be frakking kidding me," she said to her reflection in the mirror.
She wrapped the towel around her body as she crossed the threshold from the head, secured it above her breasts as she reached to crack the hatch open. Laura peered through the narrow opening, smiled in surprise on seeing Bill standing on the other side holding an insulated container identical to the one she'd used to transport his dessert.
"Bad time?" he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.
"No!" she answered emphatically, checked herself, continued "No, not at all. Come in."
Laura flung the door open, stepped back to admit a smiling Bill. He looked her over, from her bare feet to her wet hair, admired the swell of her ample breasts over the top of the towel she'd tightened around them, and she flushed.
"Just, uh, give me a minute and I'll -"
"Don't change on my account," he interrupted and she bit her lip, stilled.
"You have impeccable timing," she braved in a hushed voice.
"I can't argue with that," he husked, "You're almost perfectly attired for what I have in mind."
"Oh?," she whispered.
Bill separated the lid from the container he held, pulled out the contents and tossed the box to the deck. He removed the paper wrapper, let it fall to the floor and produced a red popsicle.
"Cherry?" Laura asked happily.
"It's my new favorite," he responded, arched his brows and smiled.
He stepped close to her, held the popsicle by its stick in one hand, reached the other out and loosed the towel covering her. Bill kept his eyes on hers as the fluffy white barrier fell from her body. He lifted the popsicle, traced the cold tip along her lower lip, pushed it into her mouth. Laura hollowed her cheeks, sucked it in, swirled her tongue around it as he pulled it from between her lips. He leaned in and kissed her, licked and sucked the sweet cherry flavor from her lips, tongue.
Bill broke from the kiss, touched the popsicle to the hollow of Laura's throat, trailed it slowly down to the valley between her breasts. She gasped at the chill on her heated skin, groaned when he lowered his head, dragged his hot tongue in its icy wake. He licked down along the juicy red path he'd created, back up again to plant a kiss on her collar bone.
He raised his head, dropped a chaste kiss on her parted lips.
"I'm gonna need you to lie down," he said, kissed her again, "But this could get a little messy and you probably don't want to sleep on sticky sheets tonight, so..."
"Right here, Bill," she sighed. "Right here on the rug is fine with me."
He nodded, handed her the popsicle, unbuttoned and removed his jacket, tossed it onto the leather chair behind him. He pulled both tanks over his head and they joined the discarded jacket. He sat on the edge of the chair to pull off his boots, looked up to watch Laura sliding the popsicle in and out of her mouth, sucking at the melting juices to prevent them from dripping onto her hand.
"You..." he started, his breath hitched, "Laura, you are so beautiful."
She pulled the popsicle from her mouth, smiled sheepishly at him, her lips stained a brighter red from the colored ice.
"Get those pants off so we can get this show on the road," she said boldly.
Bill stood and dropped his trousers to the floor, stepped out of them and back to Laura wearing only his boxer shorts. He relieved her of her the popsicle, cupped her face with one hand and kissed her slowly, deeply.
"Hit the deck," he ordered hoarsely.
With a whispered "Yes, sir," Laura lowered herself to the floor, stretched out on the wool rug on her back.
Bill joined her, settled beside her, propped his head in one hand, lowered the other to her breast to slide the popsicle around her creamy flesh, the textured skin of her nipple. She drew in a sharp breath at the cold contact and he immediately soothed the jarring sensation by closing his mouth around her. Laura moaned as he flicked his tongue over her taut peak, pressed his erection into her rounded hip. He redirected his focus to her other breast, cooled then warmed it as he had the first.
Laura wove her fingers into the thick, silky hair at the back of Bill's head, arched her neck and writhed under his attention. She hummed, deep and low, when he trailed the popsicle over her belly, down to the border of her coppery curls and back again. He edged down beside her, rolled onto her and pressed her legs apart as he slid between them. He pressed his face into the soft skin of her belly, licked, sucked and kissed away the sticky, sugary liquid left by the melting popsicle. She moaned and rocked her hips, desperate for him to move lower, whimpered when he made to.
Her relief was premature as Bill dropped his head onto one leg, ran the melting popsicle down the inside of the opposite thigh. Laura huffed in frustration, felt Bill's head bob with his answering laughter. He dipped his head down to catch the trickle of juice with his tongue before it ran between her legs. She bent her knee, planted her foot flat on the floor and he licked his way up the smooth skin of her inner thigh, sucked hard at the sensitive skin behind her knee. Laura brought her other knee up, dropped both until she was wide open before him.
"Bill," his name was a throaty plea from her lips.
He groaned and dropped his face to her center, covered her clit with his mouth and sucked. Laura arched her back, gasped loudly and clawed at the rug in a failed attempt to find purchase. She dropped heavily back to the floor and snapped her gaze down to him when he pulled away from her. She watched as he bit a chunk off the diminishing popsicle and returned his mouth to her clit.
"Oh my gods, Bill," she whimpered, bucked her hips.
Bill let the melting ice flow from his mouth onto her clit, trickle down into her hot, wet opening. He touched the tip of his tongue to her entrance, pushed inside her body, licked the sticky cherry juice from her slick flesh. He dragged his tongue up the length of her folds, encircled the hard nub of her clit and sucked it between his lips. He released her, pressed intimate kisses to her velvety lips then rested his chin on her mound.
"Laura," he rasped.
She lifted her head from the floor, looked down at him over her heaving chest.
"Hmm?"
"This is gonna be cold for a coupla seconds," he warned. "But I hope it'll be good."
Laura sucked her lips into her mouth, nodded her head hesitantly and eased back down to the wool rug, her body coiled with anticipation.
Bill braced his weight on his elbow between her legs to ensure he'd have the use of both his hands. He pushed two fingers inside her, slid his thumb up to press down on her clit and elicited a long moan from Laura. He frakked her with his hand until she rolled her hips, pushed back against the thrust of his fingers. He removed his fingers, lowered the popsicle, melting and dripping over his other hand and pushed what remained of the slushy ice into the tight tunnel between her legs. He heard Laura suck in a breath but didn't look away from what he was doing. With the fingers of his other hand, he pressed her folds together, closed her opening around the wooden popsicle stick. He slid the stick slowly from her body, trapped the last chunk of red ice inside her and groaned when the stick came out clean.
"You feel that, Laura?" he asked raggedly. "Is that cold?"
"Yesss, Bill, I f-f-feel it. It's -"
He dropped the popsicle stick, released his hold on her and drove two thick fingers into her. He growled as his fingertips pushed through the softening ice and red juice flowed from Laura's body onto his hand. He pumped in and out of her, felt the heat of her body rapidly chasing the chill from the spongy walls around him.
"Bill, eat me... please," Laura cried, pushed into his touch.
Bill moved his hands to the back of her knees, pressed her legs up and back, cocked his head at an angle and buried his face in her wet, pink flesh. He feasted greedily, sucked and swallowed the cherry flavored taste of her, pushed his tongue deep into the well between her legs. He dropped one of her legs, put his thumb over her clit and pressed in downward arcing circles.
"Oh gods," she moaned, long and loud. "Bill - oh my gods."
He held on tightly with one hand to her thigh as she bucked wildly and her other leg fell to the rug. She jerked her hips and came hard, closed her legs around Bill's head and rolled her lower body side to side. He reached up and pressed her legs apart, licked her clit with rapid strokes of his tongue, felt her body quivering at the overstimulation.
Laura pulled his hair, yanked his head up from her sensitive sex.
"Frak me, Bill, gods, please, frak me," she wailed.
Bill crawled up her body and she lifted her face to his, licked and kissed the wetness from his mouth, tasted a sweet mixture of her arousal and a hint of cherry flavoring.
While Laura lapped at his face, Bill pulled his stiff cock from his underwear and directed the fat head to her entrance, drove his thick length into her with a strangled cry from both of them.
"You're so tight," he grunted. "Gods, you're so tight."
She dropped to the floor, stabbed her fingers into the damp, tangled hair above her head as he began pounding into her, pushed her forward on the rug with the force of his thrusts.
"I'm gonna come, Laura," he grunted. "You're so ... hot, so frakking tight -"
"Frak me, Bill" she panted. "Frak me and come inside me - gods, yes!"
"I'm ... coming ... Laura."
His words were broken, his breath labored as he convulsed and shot jets of semen into her depths. Laura flexed, rocked her hips into his as he crashed against her in his orgasmic frenzy, came apart with a keening cry as a second orgasm rippled through her body. Bill watched her beautiful face contorted with the rapture of her release, felt her muscles spasm around his cock until she'd milked him dry.
Completely spent, the strength of his arms flagged and Bill collapsed on top of Laura. They lay together, drawing ragged breaths, as they bathed in the afterglow of their first coupling.
When Bill came back to his senses, he rolled off her and onto his side, draped his arm across her flat belly. They were both sweaty from their spirited lovemaking, sticky from the popsicle that started the whole thing.
"That was better than any of my wildest dreams," he rumbled.
Laura turned on her side to face him, put her hand on his muscled arm, kissed him languidly.
"You sure know how to make a good first impression," she smiled.