"A deal." She takes his face in her hands, looks into his eyes and the bright flame of her green gaze burns like the thrust on a Viper, annihilates him and resurrects him all at once. She presses her lips against his and he has only a moment to realize how soft they are, how she tastes like tea and honey and something indefinable that he thinks might be the vestiges of Chamalla, before her tongue caresses his lips, demanding entry. He willingly grants it and their tongues tangle together as he feels her hand slide up his back. Then her fingers are in his hair, massaging his scalp, his neck, while her tongue explores the cavern of his mouth and their teeth clash. His own hands run up her back, down her sides and come to rest on her hips, he sucks her tongue deeper into his mouth and she moans into the kiss. He releases her mouth, allowing them to catch their breath as he starts to kiss his way up the line of her cheekbone, down the outline of her jaw.

"Clothes. Off. Now." Laura pants.

"Yes, Sir. Okay, Sir. Anything you say, Sir," Bill says as he breaks away from her. His hands, already aching to touch her again, fumble with the laces on his shoes. At her soft expletive he glances up at her, catches the wince as she fights with her own shoelaces with only one functioning hand.

"Let me," he says. He kneels down before her and strips her of her shoes and socks, caresses her delicate ankles. He's so close to her he can feel the heat coming off of her, smell her arousal. Slowly he slides up her body, trailing his hand up her calves, her thighs, pressing his hardening erection against her as he goes. The friction on his cock is exquisite and it's been so long since he did this, so long since he first dreamt of doing this with her, that he knows he'll not be able to hold out nearly as long as he'd like. By the stuttering of her breath he knows she is right there with him. The material of her slacks rides up as his hands slide ever higher, the fabric soft, but not as soft as he imagines she will be and he aches to feel her naked skin against his. Up his hands rise, up those long legs until they find and undo the clasp of her pants, tug down the zipper. The material slides down her legs, pools at her feet and she kicks the garment away as he claims her mouth again.

In a frenzy of lust, he walks her three steps back until her back is braced against the bulkhead and cups her heat through the thin material of her panties. Her moan shivers through him as his hand slides under the waistband, probes her slit and then his questing fingers dip into her wetness, first one, then two, three. He curls them against her slick walls, exploring her depths, searching for that elusive spot. He knows he's found it when she gasps into his mouth and her hips jerk and her heat pulses around his fingers. It won't take much to take her over the edge, he's halfway there already himself, just from touching her like this, and all he wants is to see her come undone, but her hands on his shoulders stay him.

"Wait," she says and all he can do is obey her.

She looks up at him and licks her lips. She is so beautiful, more beautiful than ever with her face flushed, her mouth swollen with kisses. Desire burns through him as she starts to slowly divest him of his clothes. The rough scratch of her cast against his skin is a counterpoint to the softness of her lips as she trails kisses along every inch of skin she exposes. He feels a bit self conscious. He's such an old war horse compared to her. Scarred and dented where she, in his late night fantasies at least, consists of ample curves, soft skin, and delicate dimples. He looks on as, seemingly of their own accord, his hands start unbuttoning her blouse and as the material falls away from her body, he sucks in his breath. Reality is both more and less than his fantasies. Her body, after all, is a war torn country twice over. When his knuckles brush over the swell of her breasts, her skin is as soft as he'd imagined it, but ample curves have given way to too sharp angles. The way her shoulder blades, her collarbones, her ribs are so clearly defined underneath her pale skin almost physically hurts him. Yet, she is so very beautiful to him. The sparkle in her eyes, the grace of her movements, the strength in her voice, the way her faith, her commitment, lights her from within; these are the things that drew him to her. They are never more present than they are right now, when she stands before him, unabashedly, all but naked, the cage of her body almost too frail to contain the spirit within.

He guides her to the rack on unsteady feet and eases her down, peeling off her blouse as he goes, reaching behind her and undoing the clasp of her bra with one deft movement. Like riding a bike or flying a Viper, that's one move you never unlearn, he thinks, then all thoughts flee as she looks up at him and slowly lies down, taking him with her.

"So beautiful, Laura. You are so very beautiful." He yanks down his boxers, steps out of them, as he lies down beside her, his rock hard cock brushes her thigh and he shivers with want.

She smiles, flushes. He runs his hands over her legs, up her stomach, and cups her breasts, leans in and kisses fist one pink nipple, then the other. She shudders as he moves to her neck, feels for her pulse point with the tip of his tongue, and suckles her there. All the while, he gently massages her breasts; he imagines he can feel the lump, feel the invader that is trying to take her away from him.

"Does it hurt?" he asks as he slowly begins to kiss his way down the column of her throat.

"It will hurt more if you stop," she says as she arches into his touch.

He takes her nipple into his mouth, begins to suckle her, gently, conscious of the fact that she's all but admitted, in her own, roundabout way, that she's in some pain at least. He switches to her other breast, kneads it more roughly than he's done her left one, suckles and nips and laves it and loves the feeling of her areola puckering in his mouth. He lets go with an audible pop and then pinches the hard little nub lightly, rolls it between thumb and forefinger. She moans low in her throat.

He reaches down to divest her of her panties, the last barrier between them. He slides them slowly off her long legs, drops kisses down one leg in their wake, nips and licks and bites his way up the other. At the juncture of her thighs he stops. She is so wet, so wet for him, the thought makes his cock throb. As he drags his tongue up her slit, dips into her heat, sucks and worries at her clit with his lips, his teeth, the tip of his tongue, she gasps and scoots away from his touch, pulls him urgently up her body.

"So close," she murmurs as she slings one leg over his hips, rolls them over, "I want you inside when I come."

And just like that he's on his back and then it's her, making her way down his body. He kisses the top of his scar, flicks his nipples with her tongue, strokes his sides, his hipbones, kisses the inside of his thighs. His hips buck when she gently touches her tongue to the underside of his cock, licks the prominent vein there, swirls her tongue in his pre-cum. He's about ready to burst even from the light contact, when she lets up, scoots up his body again to share his own taste with him.

"Laura," he warns her and she chuckles and kisses his jaw.

"I know, me too," she says as she wraps her fingers around him, lines up his shaft with her entrance and starts to sink down on him. He grabs her hips to steady her as she moves down his length. Her slick walls grip him tightly and the feeling is exquisite. She leans down, balances her hands on his shoulders, her cast digs into his collarbone painfully but all sensation is drowned in the feeling of absolute bliss as she pushes down slowly and steadily until he's buried in her up to the hilt. She's hot and wet and so incredibly snug around him and he remains perfectly still as they both adjusts to this, the feeling of him inside her, the feeling of her around him.

"Okay?" he asks after a long moment, and she surprises him with a giggle and a snort.

"More than okay. This feels so good, better than I dreamed even."

"You dreamed about this?" he asks, surprised.

She grinned. "Many, many times, in a variety of ways. You?"

"I don't know, I forget," he lies and knows she doesn't believe him by the curl of her lips, the twinkle in her eyes.

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me all about what it is you forget." She grins and begins to raise herself, then sink back down. She goes slowly at first but as she adjusts to the feel of him, she relaxes and starts to pick up the pace. His hands caress her thighs, her hips, her breasts, everywhere he can reach as he tries to keep a tight rein on his own urge to move. She is so delicate, recovering from the cancer and the Diloxin and the shock of Earth, even if she won't admit to it and he won't risk hurting her. It's an exquisite form of agony as he lies there, trying to keep still, and watches her bounce above him, her skin flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. She glimmers and undulates on top of him and he has to squeeze his eyes shut against the beauty of her.

Knowing him better than perhaps he knows himself, she saves him from further torture when she bends down, whispers in his ear, "You can move Bill, I won't break. Gods, you feel so good."

It's all he needs, this benediction and he grips her hips, helps her up his length, slams her down as he thrusts his own hips upwards. A small, surprised grunt escapes her and he looks at her in concern but her eyes are closed, her head thrown back. As he watches her, her good hand comes up and starts to run up and down the length of her body, she caresses her nipples, runs her fingers down her sides, leaving a trial of goose bumps in their wake. It's the most erotic sight he's ever seen, he thinks as he increases his pace, thrusts up into her delicious heat. He is so close he can feel his orgasm coil in his balls.

"Not going last much longer now," he tells her.

She hums that hum of hers, and he knows that every time he hears it now, he will think of this exact moment. "Almost there," she pants

Her hand reaches down to press on her clit and her nails scrape lightly along his length as he moves out of her and he thinks, no, this, this is the most erotic thing ever. He tilts his hips a fraction, changes the angle so that her sensitive bundle of nerves scrapes across his length even as his cock hits the spot deeps inside her his earlier reconnaissance uncovered, and two or three strokes like this is all it takes. She throws her head back and keens an inarticulate sound of pleasure as tremors shake her body. Her chest flushes a deep dark red and her nipples pucker hard and her walls swell and flex around him.

He grunts her name as his cock hardens painfully for an interminable second and then his balls coil and heave and his hips start jerking erratically and he grinds into her and comes deep inside her, emptying himself in her still pulsating heat.

Laura collapses on top of him and her slight weight as she sprawls languidly across him almost makes him feel guilty for overexerting her. He thinks better of that thought, when she squeezes her internal muscles around his now deflated cock, still buried inside of her, and wriggles on top of him.

"Oh Gods," she says, "that was so good. Remind me again why we held off doing that for so long?"

He trials his fingers down her spine. "Can't remember," he replies, "stupid though." His heart crimps in his chest when he thinks of all the time they've wasted. The attraction, at least on his side, has been there almost from the start, he thinks it's the same for her. Why did they not listen to the dictates of their own hearts before this, there have been so many opportunities, and now, there's so little time left. Even with Cottle's news, he can't kid himself any longer, she's still dying, slower yes, but still, unless Cottle actually does come through, she's dying, he knows it from the precise tally of her ribs as he caressed them, the feel of her shoulder blades, almost poking through her skin.

"Yeah, stupid." She pushes herself up with her good hand braced against his chest, looks him in the eye. "But we're not going to waste another precious minute agonizing over the time lost, no could be and might haves. Okay?"

She knows him too well and he's so very glad of it. "Okay," he says as he rolls her over and captures her mouth in a searing kiss. He's still buried inside of her and feels his cock twitch as she responds to his kiss with equal fervor.

When they come up for air she giggles. "So, I'm thinking we have some catching up to do, flyboy."

"Flyboy?"

"Hmm, yes." She kisses his jaw. "The sight of you in that flight suit? Hoo boy."

He files that one away for future reference, caresses the shell of her ear, the curve of her skull, all but naked and so fragile, and kisses away a tear when she looks up at him with wonder.

"So, you were saying something about catching up?"

"Shower first?"

He slides out of her, disappointed but aware there's a Quorum meeting looming, a press conference. Best they get their Admiral and President facades up and ready. Slowly, he gets out of bed, holds out his hand and helps her to her feet.

"Don't look so disappointed, flyboy," she says. "You do know there's a difference between the verb, as in to take a shower." Laura uses her best schoolteacher voice, the one that drives him nuts. She smirks as she takes his flaccid cock in her hand, tugs him gently with her, while she continues to lecture him, "and then there's the noun, shower, as in a pace, a place to be doing things in? Things like catching up."

Bill grins as he follows her into the head, and together, they hold the world at bay for another few precious moments.