Laura Roslin awoke, her hand automatically reaching out to the space behind her. She found it cold and empty. Bill Adama had obviously left her bed some time ago.
She threw her arm over her eyes, momentarily flustered at why it should worry her. After all, that was what she had always wanted in the past, wasn't it? Her partners had been carefully selected to ensure they could in no way ever encroach upon her life and the hard shell of her heart.
There had been Sean Ellison with his youth and ambitious nature. Their relationship, if one could call a few fast fraks after a few shared meals a relationship, had been all about experimentation. He had experimented with his ex-teacher; the mystique of an older woman. She had experimented with her ex-student; a youthful male body, wanting to find out whether or not there was any life left in hers.
She soon found out that frakking a man half her age didn't revitalise her soul or make any of her grief disappear.
As a result, she decided to throw herself into her work. She had accepted Richard Adar's offer to join his campaign and set about making a career for herself. She'd hoped that if she kept busy enough, she could eventually numb the dull ache that had welled at the bottom of her stomach for the last six years.
Somewhere along the way she had taken up with her boss - Richard Adar, with his career and family responsibilities. She had allowed him to pursue her after realising that an affair with the President of the Twelve Colonies was safe from any unwanted declarations of love or, Gods' forbid, marriage proposals.
Six months ago, when debating the subject of teachers and their strike action, she had decided she no longer wanted to be Richard Adar's mistress. In fact, she came to the conclusion she no longer even liked him. He had become a cartoon cut-out figure who worshipped popularity polls and news reports. His single-minded pursuit to claim another term as President had become his entire focus.
Now, after last night, she found herself with a new lover. A man who had no wife, yet was still, for all intents and purposes, married - married to the Fleet. It would be the perfect relationship for her. He'd be in space for months on end. She would rarely see him.
Was this why she was attracted to him?
A small voice inside her head whispered that he was planning to retire. Her pragmatic plans would be out the window if he chose to visit her on Caprica. Maybe this was why she had expended such energy on keeping the Commander at arm's length over the last few months.
She tried to look at last night from a practical point of view. They'd had sex, fantastic sex she corrected herself, but just sex nevertheless. They weren't in a relationship. They had merely met through their respective positions, been mutually attracted, and acted on it. She needed to stop making such a big deal out of sleeping with a man.
Sleeping with a man – those words had haunted her from the moment she'd opened her eyes. She had never actually physically slept with a man for several years. She had with Bill Adama though. He had spooned into her back on the small bed, one arm draped over his head, the other over her body; the entire length of his body pressed along her spine as she'd drifted off, lulled to sleep by the soft and steady sounds of his deep breathing.
Unsettlingly, from the moment they had walked into her bedroom, he had been intimate with her.
"You still want a shower?"
"Yes, no... Maybe."
After her stuttering reply, he pierced her with his blue eyes for a long minute before turning to enter the bathroom. He twisted the taps and tested the water. "Come on," he urged, and then left her alone to undress in privacy.
She stood under the shower head, second thoughts washing over her along with the heated stream of water.
Finally, when she realised she could not procrastinate in the shower any longer, she shut off the water and stepped out onto the bathmat. Reaching blindly for a towel, one appeared as if by magic to wipe her eyes and face.
She focused, and found a near naked Bill Adama holding it. He wore only a set of tanks and boxers. Her eyes greedily drank in the sight of his taut arms before lowering and settling on his hands. She had found herself fantasising about his hands for far too long, and now they were a dark and strong reality holding the towel for her.
That towel then worked its way down her arms, then up again to gently pat her neck.
"Turn around," he ordered.
She complied and felt the rough material of the towel scrape across her back. She couldn't hold back a whimper when it circled the swell of her buttocks. His breath floated across some loose tendrils of her hair and she expected him to soon give another command to turn again. Instead, he stayed standing behind her, reaching around to carefully start drying her breasts. He skimmed gently over her nipples, bringing them wantonly to attention.
The towel, in his capable hands, crept lower and lower, swirling across her stomach and navel. His knee nudged her legs apart slightly, the material caressing the delicate skin of her thighs.
"Gods," she groaned as he finally brushed the towel across her mound. "I thought you said you didn't have seduction techniques, Commander."
"I'm making it up as I go along," he rumbled.
He then threw the towel carelessly aside and half dragged, half guided her, into the bedroom. He pushed her down onto the mattress and manoeuvred himself between her legs.
"This is where you get to just lie there and do nothing," he said.
He lifted her thighs and hooked them over his shoulders. She whimpered again as she felt the first touch of his tongue between her legs; one long and slow lick. She bucked beneath him, panting with anticipation.
Parting her with his fingers, he buried his face in her. He sucked and flicked his tongue over her clit again and again until she was writhing, muttering incoherent words of mercy, yet begging for more. She gripped the sheets, her nails digging into the bedding.
Finally, she cried out to the Gods and her body shuddered with an orgasm.
She groaned, rolled over and buried her head into her pillow. He had gone down on her. The very first time and that was what he did? She could count with the fingers of one hand the times Richard had performed cunnilingus on her; and they had been engaged in an affair for three years.
It was such an intimate act. She really had no idea how she felt about it. And even more mystifying - she wanted to return the favour. The thought of guiding her mouth around Bill Adama's erection was erotically appealing.
She'd never gotten the chance last night though as he had instead found another home for it.
As she came down from her high, he removed his tanks and boxers. Her eyes catalogued each small detail. Her hands ran down his arms before sweeping across his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles. Every part of him was hard, masculine...
She pulled him down, willing him to crush her with his weight, only he held himself up with those strong arms as he entered her in one smooth movement.
"You're so wet," he murmured in her ear.
"What would you expect after…," her voice trailed away. She felt slightly awkward, and definitely still flushed, from his earlier ministrations.
He started to rock and she forgot about her embarrassment, enjoying the sensations he was evoking in her again. Her hands continued to explore his body. She ran her nails down his back, squeezed his buttocks, fingered the tense muscles at the base of his neck.
He moved faster, plunging into her harder and harder. His rasped out grunts of pleasure grew louder with each thrust until he growled some Tauron curse above her at the same moment that she felt another smaller orgasm ripple through her senses.
"Sorry," he mumbled. He rolled off her and she studied his face, marvelling at his now relaxed features. "I was too fast."
"No, Commander," she said. "I was just quieter."
"Commander? Do you think you could call me Bill now?"
Her breathing had almost returned to normal and she calmed even further when his hands reached out to stroke her skin.
His touch had lulled her to sleep. This morning was not the time to try and figure out why she had slept more soundly than she had in years.
She needed to get up, take a shower, and get dressed in her metaphoric armour - a business suit.
She looked across to the empty space beside her again. Despite her perception of his intimate nature, he had apparently not stayed with her all night. He must have left and returned to his bedroom.
She wondered if he'd left to save her any embarrassment if they were discovered together.
Housekeeping would know, however, given the unmistakable smell of sex on the sheets. For once, this reality did not fill her with dread.
She got up in the night to use the bathroom.
"You okay?" he asked when she returned and automatically cuddled back into his warmth.
She hummed a positive response, and then shivered when she felt his hardness digging into her back. Without saying another word she pushed her ass back into him invitingly. He fingered her opening and entered her immediately. She welcomed the feel of him inside her and, despite the fact he came after a mere three or four thrusts, she enjoyed it, and never felt saddened that she hadn't had time to catch up and find release as he had.
"Sorry," he mumbled near her ear again before they both drifted back to sleep.
That had been around 3 a.m., she thought. She checked the digital clock above the bed. It was now nearly 7 a.m. Somewhere in those four hours, the Commander had slipped out without her even noticing.
Suddenly, her door clicked and the subject of her early morning musings walked in carrying a tray laden with a coffee pot and several plates of food. His hair was damp, evidence he had showered. He wore his uniform pants and tanks.
"Morning. I thought I'd better wake you. The Admiral and Doral are returning again at 900 hours and I thought you'd want to be showered and dressed before they arrive. I didn't know what you'd like for breakfast, so I got the mess to send me a selection of Danishes and muffins. And the coffee's hot and strong."
He put the tray down on the bedside table and smiled across at her.
She stared at him. All of her misgivings and confusion about sleeping with him and his not being in bed when she woke flew out the window. He was beautiful. He had made her feel beautiful. She needed to stop analysing everything for a moment and simply enjoy it.
"There was something we never did last night," she said, her voice automatically taking on a huskier tone than usual.
He chuckled. "Madam Secretary," he said, using her title as an endearment. "There are several things we never did last night. I'm an old man. You need to give me some time."
She smiled, then wriggled over to the side of the bed and rose to her knees so that their faces were aligned.
"Kiss me," she whispered.