July, 2006
Laura followed the stiff back of the uniformed officer until he paused outside a hatch and knocked.
The hatch opened to reveal Bill. He was still dressed in his formal whites, with colorful medals arrayed across his chest.
Her aide had been in regular contact with his crew as the date of the decommissioning drew nearer, so he'd known that she was going to be on board today. During the official ceremonies, he had remained polite and respectful toward her, as well as to the President and the Secretary of Defense. But he had kept his distance.
She had attended today on the flimsiest of pretexts. A documentary about life in the military was being filmed, and it included a segment on aircraft carriers. The production team was aboard the Eisenhower interviewing members of Bill's crew. Once completed, the documentary would be shown to eighth grade students throughout the country.
"Ms. Roslin," he greeted her politely.
"Captain Adama," she replied.
He dismissed her escort as she stepped through the hatch and glanced around his quarters. A desk sat near the doorway, cluttered with paperwork. There was a table with four chairs around it, and then the alcove where Bill slept.
Laura's gaze drifted involuntarily to his bunk. The bedding was so taut, a coin would bounce from it. The three shelves on the wall above the bunk held an assortment of books. In amongst the tomes was a scattering of picture frames; Laura moved closer and donned her glasses, studying the montage of photos of Lee and Zak. The photographic journey began with the two boys as toddlers, and ended with one of each young man at their respective Academy graduation ceremonies, standing proudly in their newly-earned uniforms.
"I thought you would have left with the President," Bill's voice rumbled behind her.
Laura turned around; he was standing very close to her. She could smell his aftershave, see his too-blue irises through the lenses of his glasses. It gave her new confidence. Maybe he was pleased that she was here today? Of course, she conceded, the room was cramped; he didn't have much choice but to be in her general vicinity.
He'd lost weight. His face was thinner. Even though he was wearing a heavy jacket, she could see that his arms were more defined, his chest broader. She should be excited; most women would find his look extremely attractive. However, she knew it was all a result of Zak's death. He'd been coping with his loss by working out to excess; punishing himself physically.
She finally answered his comment with a teasing question, trying to elicit a smile from him. "You didn't think I'd stay so I could get the private tour from the Captain?"
"What do you want, Laura?" he murmured.
All morning, she'd been torn between dreading this moment, when they were finally alone, and delighting in it. She was still unsure which emotion was winning now.
She reached out and brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his tunic.
"I'm not sure what I want," she admitted.
"I am," Bill said.
She cocked her head to one side, enquiringly.
"You," he vowed. "I want you."
His head dipped down and they were kissing. On and on, like they'd been lost in the desert and the other's lips were oases.
Her hands reached up and found the buttons of his tunic. In their highly polished state, they slipped easily through the buttonholes. Her hands swept along the muscles that bulged through the plain white t-shirt he wore beneath.
Their lips never lost contact.
Her legs were lifted suddenly off the deck, and she was carried over to his bunk. He lay her down, running his hands down her legs until he reached her shoes. He slipped them off and tossed them across the room impatiently.
She heard a zipper and felt Bill tug at her skirt. She lifted her hips to aid him in slipping the garment off. It was only then that she realized that her jacket and blouse were already dispensed with, as were his trousers. She didn't even know which one of them had removed the clothing, or when.
Laura's lips were bruised and swollen, and she was gasping for air, but they kept kissing. Bill's lips were mostly hard and demanding, but now and then they gentled, parting enticingly, offering her the slow invitation of his tongue sliding against hers. Each time it did, she felt an answering rush of promise gather between her legs.
She felt his fingers brush against her thighs and she groaned, spreading herself for him wantonly.
Bill's mouth left hers and started to travel down her neck, her décolletage, her abdomen. Finally it arrived where his fingers had been teasing soft, slow circles against her skin. He nipped playfully at her thigh before moving his head a mere couple of inches to nuzzle at the lace of her panties.
Laura arched her back involuntarily, almost coming at the mere thought of him worshipping her with his mouth.
His tongue lapped her through the flimsy material. One long, luxurious stroke left her moaning for more. The cotton gusset of her panties were saturated with anticipation.
Bill sat back and pressed her quivering legs together. Hooking his fingers under the hem, he dragged her panties down over her knees and flicked them off her ankles.
Then his hands returned to her knees. Slowly, agonizingly so, he eased them apart. He pushed her breasts up so that they spilled out of the cups of her bra and into his large, warm palms. Laura closed her eyes, trying to block out the intense hunger in his gaze as he categorized every part of her, as if for future reference.
She choked out his name as he bent down to drag his tongue along the same path as before, now free of obstacles, exposed to his eager touch. She cried out as his tongue swirled gently around her clitoris.
She couldn't speak again for what felt like hours. Instead, she let out an occasional whimper as he licked and suckled her in just the right places. Her grasping hands rumpled the neat bedsheets as pleasure, hot like tongues of flame, began to wash across her body.
She lifted her pelvis higher off the mattress; he ground his mouth down against her. Their impossibly perfect friction was heating her from the inside out.
Letting go of the bedding, she plunged her fingers into his grayer hair, satisfying herself that it had remained soft. She was burning, and his rough tongue was the only thing that could extinguish the fire within her.
She stopped thinking. She stopped moving. Her entire body trembled, starting at her toes and head and joining in the middle, where his mouth was pressed against her clit. She gasped, colors blurring behind the lids of her eyes.
"My love," he whispered against her inner thigh.
She didn't answer; couldn't answer. Coherency had escaped her completely.
She was bereft for only a moment, when she realized his head was still bent and he was now going to concentrate on another part of her body, one equally as sensitive. His hand rested possessively over her pubic mound as he suckled both her breasts in turn.
"Bill," she let out an exhausted moan, even though he had been the one doing all the work. "You must—"
"Shh. Let me show you how good it can be. I won't be selfish this time."
Her head was spinning out of control, but she vaguely registered his words. He thought she wasn't happy with their first time? She certainly wasn't happy about why they'd slept together, but the act itself had been the best she'd had in years. Not as good as this, she admitted, but he could never be as distressed as he was that afternoon.
She pulled gently at him, forcing him to look up at her. "It was good," she panted. "Last time."
He frowned. "You never came to the funeral. You never tried to contact me afterwards."
"I was there," she finally settled on telling him. "At the funeral."
A shiver swept across his body.
"And later?"
How could she explain? She barely understood herself why she'd avoided having Bill in her life on a more permanent basis. All she knew was that he loved her too much.
She shook her head slowly. "There was the election. And… I don't know, there never seems to be the right time for us." She cupped his cheek and she felt tears welling in her eyes. "Just know that it had nothing to do with your performance that day. I thought you weren't impressed with me. That maybe the thought of having sex with me was better than the reality. You didn't want me to stay. Offered me the spare room."
"I'd used your body to appease my grief. I couldn't ask you to do that again."
"Yes, you could have." She gave him a small shy smile. "You can use it anyway you like," she offered huskily.
He growled and lifted her up off the mattress so he could unclasp her bra. She pushed his t-shirt up and over his head at the same time, running her nails along his newly sculpted chest.
He stood up to remove his final piece of clothing, allowing her a moment to inspect his spectacular body fully naked.
"Bill, honey, you're not looking after yourself," she scolded gently.
"You think I'm letting myself go?" he asked with more than a whisper of mirth, running one hand down his flat stomach.
"No. That's the whole point. You've been tense and anxious. Trying to ease your pain by pumping iron. It's not natural, and it doesn't suit you."
He laughed as he climbed on top of her. "You'd rather have me fat?"
"Yes. Fat and relaxed. And happy," she added, her voice breaking when she acknowledged that his happiness was so important to her.
He lowered himself, and their faces met. "I'm happy now." He chuckled. "Although I have to admit to being tense and anxious still."
She reached out and stroked his erection. "Don't be," she whispered, pushing her hips up to meet his.
0.0.0
Laura woke several hours later. Even though it had been early afternoon, she had slept soundly, exhausted from their satisfying romp in his quarters.
She was alone in his bed, but a quick scan of the room found Bill doing some paperwork at his desk.
"Hi." She spoke so that he would know she was awake.
A huge grin spread across his face at her greeting.
"Hey," he said, returning to the bunk, one hand brushing softly over her bare shoulder. He simply needed to touch her, she thought, whether there was a reason for it or not.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
Laura giggled, stretching like a contented cat in the sun. "Beautiful," she answered honestly.
He chuckled and pecked her cheek. "Good."
"You're so smug," she accused with a smile.
He laughed again and squeezed her knee. "You want anything to eat? I can order something from the galley."
"No. That's okay. Bill, we need to talk."
His smile fled. "Oh, great. The one line every man wants to hear, especially after the best sex of his entire life."
She patted his hand reassuringly. "No. I just mean, what are we going to do now?"
"Now? You're ready to go again, my love?" He wiggled his eyebrow suggestively, earning him a slap on his chest.
"No. I mean, what happens now? You're retiring?"
He sighed. "I have another two months on board the ship, then six months on base until the Eisenhower is finally ready to be left in dry dock," he rattled off. "Today was just about the pomp, the mutual backslapping. Politicians getting their photos taken for the papers. The next eight months will be the real nuts and bolts of the decommissioning."
"Oh." Laura was disappointed. She was, as usual, unsure of the part she wanted Bill to play in her life, but she knew he had to be in it, one way or another.
They both sighed. He snuggled down into the bunk beside her, pulling her over to lie across him.
"I love you, Laura," he avowed.
"Bill, I can't—"
"I know, honey," he said. "I understand."
He always seemed to understand her. Even when she barely understood herself.
She couldn't say the words; not yet. But she owed him an explanation as to why.
"I know you understand, Bill. But that doesn't mean it's not wrong of me to deny you some kind of declaration in return. I want to share my life with you. I'm just not sure if I can. I've spent so long denying love, denying you." She bowed her head. "I need you to be patient with me."
He kissed her forehead. "Always."
She felt tears stinging her eyes.
"After officially retiring," he said, "I had planned on seeking out Lee. Trying to reconcile with him."
Laura pulled him closer. "Yes, you should." Then she surprised herself by offering: "Maybe you can come visit me afterwards."
"July the Fourth?" he suggested. "Seems to be our special holiday, after all."
"I'd like that."
"How about you come down to me, though. To our house."
"Our house?" her voice caught.
"Our house," he repeated.
They lay in each other's arms for a long while after that, touching each other, kissing occasionally. Then Laura remembered a question he'd never answered.
"What was the thing? The one thing?" she asked. "The one thing that no one would know but me?"
"That I love you, and want to marry you," he said.
His words made her eyes shine with tears again. "No, Bill, I meant when we first spoke on the phone, before the girls died."
"I knew what you meant." He proved his point by taking her foot and rubbing it gently. "The one thing that no one knew was that I loved you, and wanted to marry you."
"But you'd only just met me!" she exclaimed. "How could you possibly know that?"
"I knew it as soon as you came and stole my newspaper."
"Your newspaper? But you told me you never got it delivered on Sundays."
He chuckled. "I lied. I'd sacrifice my newspaper for the most beautiful woman I'd ever met." His voice lost its teasing tone and became serious. "You were simply stunning when I saw you at Adar's party. I was too overwhelmed to even approach you." He leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss. "And, just in case you're uncertain," he added when they parted, "I still love you and want to marry you."