Bill studied the small shell buttons glowing in the lamplight against the black printed fabric. They were tiny and the row was long. Before starting the downward path, his fingers ran across her back and he found himself folding her into his arms, holding her against his chest and just letting her…lean. She held still for a heartbeat, then breathed out completely for the first time, it seemed, since they landed, pressing into his warmth. Her eyes closed against the oil flame, still seeing the flickers through her eyelids.

.

"It's going to be okay, Laura." He whispered the reassuring words into the red hair coiled near her ear.

She let her head rest against his mouth. "What if the signal's too weak? Or there's something in the environment that blocks it?" She turned harder into his lips, trying to get her ear close enough to discern any tones of doubt. "What if it gets stolen? Or just…breaks down?"

She drew a shaky breath. "What if they decide it's too much risk, and they just…jump away?"

He ran his warm hands up and down her arms. "None of that is likely. And if it is…if we're stuck here…" he wrapped his arms across her breasts. "It wouldn't be the end of the world."

Her hand crept up over his forearm resting on her left breast. Her fingers dug into his skin as she whispered, "What if it comes back?"

"What if it hadn't gone away? Shh, Laura…" he gently swayed back and forth with her, a subtle silent dance. "I'm ready to take what I've got. What I've got feels good right now." His breath was hot on her ear. "Take it with me."

He could feel her face move against his as her lips curved up. "You telling me what to do?"

"Stand down, Roslin. That's an order."

"Admiral, are you ordering me to stop worrying?"

His palms opened and glided over her cotton-covered breasts. "Yeah, pretty much. Worrying's a command responsibility. And right now, there's no point in it."

She dropped her hands to the front of his thighs behind her, freer now that she had the permission she needed to drop her various fears. His thighs were warm and solid under the rough fabric.

"Yes, sir."

"Better?"

"I think so."

"Good." He moved her away from his body be a few inches. "Let's get you out of this." His fingers returned to the buttons.

He had seen plenty of her skin over the past couple of years, but not under the glow of oil lamps burning within frosted glass globes. The back of her neck, the tops of her shoulders shone a light rosy gold, a little redder where the cheap cotton had rubbed against her skin.

"I like your hair up."

" I thought you loved my hair loose and wavy," she teased.

"Yeah, but this is nice, too…the access." He put his lips to the part of her neck usually hidden by her hair, opening his mouth to suck and lick at the salty flesh, nipping at the delicate swelling of her vertebrae under the skin.

His hands still stayed gentle on her breasts, especially the left. The flesh at the base of her neck had never been sick, though, never hidden a deadly time bomb, and he felt freer to press hard, sink his teeth in deep, suck until his tongue was aching. All the things he had wanted to do to her nipples but had held back, he played out on this soft skin.

"Bill! Gods, take it…unh…." She bowed her head lower as he teased knots of nerve endings she hadn't realized were there. She had been so protective of her breasts for so long, she had forgotten the jolt of stimulation flying from nipples to clit. This was almost as good, she thought.

Then his mouth and teeth fell on an area just above her left shoulder blade, and she redacted the mental "almost" as she made a breathy sound deep in her throat.

"You okay?"

"Frak, yes, I'm okay. Keep doing that and get the godsdamned buttons undone."

His low chuckle made her bite her lip against an answering groan. She pressed back against him, the big belt buckle scraping against the skirts covering her ass.

"Careful there, Mrs. Adama. You own even less clothes now that usual."

"Bill…". He heard the warning in her voice.

The long row of buttons undone, they worked to slip her blouse down her arms and fold it neatly over the back of the chair.

He kept his hands on her collarbone and continued exploring her back with his mouth. She tasted of smoke and salt, and the tang of the day's sweat. Her fingers on one hand skittered over his thighs, her other hand pressing against the layers of cloth still covering her clit, her folds that had started to swell and pulse. He smiled at her back as he ran his right hand down her arm and realized where the heel of her hand was.

"I'm doing something you like?"

"Um-hum…."

"Let's get this off, see what happens." He started on the buttons at the side of her skirt.

Two buttons later and the skirt was puddled on the floor. He bent and folded it as carefully as the blouse. When he turned, he found eager hands at his belt.

"This has got to go."

Yanking the leather free from his belt loops, she dropped the heavy buckle to the floor with a loud clank.

"Slow down, Red. We've got some time before the earliest possible rescue. We're not on the clock here."

She batted his stroking hands away as she explored him though his shirt, pinching his nipples as well as she could, squeezing fabric and flesh, before starting on his shirt buttons.

"So we're stranded, for the time being, no Quorum meetings, no CIC duty…no agendas…"

He nodded as he grabbed her hand to lick between her fingers, running his tongue over her lifeline.

"No reporters, no Fleet allotments and requisitions…"

She pulled his shirt off, flinging it in the direction of the chair. She stared at the long-sleeved undershirt that snapped up the front, then started to yank it out of his pants to get it off hm as well.

"Ow! Damn, woman, wait a minute!"

She ran her hand under the waistband of his thick pants. "Where does…oh."

"Yeah, it's all one piece. And this is as close to a kick in the balls as I'd like to get tonight."

"Oh, Gods, Bill…". He sighed as the giggles took over, using the time to unbutton his pants and shuck them off.

She had just gotten herself under control when the full effect of his gleaming white long johns hit her.

"Oh, much sexier than tanks," she giggled, her shoulders shaking until she started appreciating the view. There was an oddly erotic contrast between the soft white cotton and his dark skin showing in one long vee from his throat to his crotch, the red scar like an arrow pointing to glory. The dusky shadow of his erection showed through the fabric that went on to cup his balls, perhaps a bit more snugly that designed, and fit as tightly down his legs as her stocking fit hers.

The giggles faded into a husky murmur. "No kidding, Bill…that's actually…pretty nice." She flowed into his arms then, for a sweet leisurely kiss, wrapping his arms around his waist, licking at his mouth while she grabbed his ass…and pulled back, hand over her grin.

"You have snaps on your ass."

He huffed. "I'm starting to think I got a pain in my ass, too. Now, would you just—"

"Turn around. I have got to see this."

He sighed. "Fine. I need a drink anyway."

He deliberately turned towards the dresser and the bottle of cheap whiskey. As her laugher bubbled up behind him, he decided to forgo looking for the glasses in the dim shadows and put the open bottle to his lips. One swallow down, the next was half-spit out as wicked little fingers flicked the snaps of the ass-flap open and raked along his skin.

"Laura…." He warned.

She pulled her hand back and hugged him from behind, tucking her hands inside the soft fabric to stroke his skin, running her fingers down over his ribs to the length of his cock. She could feel his heartbeat when she laid her cheek against his wide back.

"This is nice."

He took her wrists as he turned to face her.

"It's about to get nicer."

He scooped her up and sat her down on the bed, springs protesting, and went to one knee, taking her right foot and resting it on his thigh. He ran his hands up past her petticoat.

"Now, how exactly do these work?"

Then he felt the ribboned garter at the stocking top.

"Never mind."

She lay back, setting the springs to singing again, and let him figure it out.

.

.

Red hair, loose and wild, half-covered her mouth as she turned her head. The cacophony of the bedsprings and the repeated crack of the brass headboard against the wall had finally driven them to the floor, although she suspected they'd just traded metallic squeaks and bangs for the rhythmic thumping of flesh and wood.

She shivered as the cool air of the room hit the backs of her thighs, still wet with their sweat. The room was heavy with their sex-scents, almost covering the smell of dust and old blood. Laura wrinkled her nose as she raised herself up on her hands, pushing away from the thin worn carpet.

"I'm going to have bruises on my knees tomorrow."

He ran his hands over her damp back, ending at her shoulders as he pulled her back to take him deep one more time, riding out their final aftershocks.

"I bet Doc Cochrane has an unguent for that."

He kissed the back of her neck and reluctantly pulled out of her heat, drawing soft groans from them both.

He groaned again, a few minutes later, when after a quick wash in the china basin, Laura slipped her chemise back on and handed him the book on geography. Snapping himself back into his long johns, he lay down beside her as she opened the history book, glasses perched primly on her nose. The bed springs continued to murmur as they cuddled into each other, each with a book in their hands, as they began to read about this strange new world.

.