BSG Fic: Playing for Keeps (A/R)
TITLE: Playing for Keeps
PAIRING: Adama/Roslin
RATING: en.sea.xvii
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone. I'm just having a little fun, and I promise to put the characters away, spic and span, when I'm finished.
SPOILERS: None, really. I guess this is somewhere in s2? I'm still pretty new to the show, so I'm uncertain about the timeline.
WARNINGS: D/s kink.
NOTES: Since I'm new to the fandom, I really don't know what I'm doing here. Maybe this is just an exercise to see if some things transfer over into that realm. Maybe it doesn't work. Maybe it's completely out of character. I don't know. I just needed to try to write it. Let me know what you think!
PART ONE
"Why are you here, woman?"
Laura swallowed hard, past the nervous (giddy) lump in her throat, and she looked down at the well-worn but polished boots moving towards her. They stopped because the man wearing them stopped.
"I'm here because you want me down here, sir."
Bill chuckled. "Not kneeling on the floor in front of me. Why are you here with me, tonight?"
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. It felt like such a loaded question. She knew that she missed her affair with Richard (but not so much the man himself), and that she missed feeling desire humming through her body. She missed feeling (something other than fear, anger, confusion, betrayal, and loneliness). And when the man in front of her had admitted that he noticed certain things about her and that he was extending an offer for certain activities that could help her, she could admit to herself that she felt glimpses of things that she hadn't experienced in a long time.
But, she knew the game (she hadn't played since before the destruction of the colonies, but she remembered the different types of rules) and she was pretty sure she knew what sort of answer he wanted to hear.
Laura catalogued her feelings, compartmentalised what wasn't relevant, and then inhaled as she prepared to respond to him.
"I'm here because I trust you, sir."
He put his fingers into her hair and gently massaged her head. It was a reward and she received it as such; she closed her eyes, leaned into the contact, and enjoyed the moment.
The truth was that she was in his quarters with the hatch firmly locked because he dragged her there---because he had finally figured what was wrong with her (even if he didn't apparently see it as a flaw---and instead chose to see it as an opportunity) and because she hadn't had enough strength to pull away from his grip and his force of nature.
"Good," he whispered. "Do you have any questions?"
"Yes, sir," she replied.
He chuckled. Laura felt the sound travel through her, vibrating and tickling her; she wanted to shift or react in some other way, to show that she enjoyed the sound, but she knew she wasn't allowed to move so she struggled against the impulse.
"Let's answer your questions, then," he said quietly. "First, I noticed because it's been too long for you. It's been too long for me, too, but I could see you need it.
"Second, my ex-wife... we... tried it. She thought it would be fun," he explained, "to spice up our dying relationship with something a little different. But, it didn't work. It was something else for me, after some thought. It loosened up something in my head, things made more sense. It scared me, but now I've made peace with it.
"Third, I'm not cruel." Bill paused, saw her forehead's tension (its muscles had tightened as she listened to him answering her unasked questions), and chuckled again. "I'm demanding... possessive... but not cruel. I won't hurt you any more than you want or need. I'll push you until you break---but I'll take care of you afterwards."
"And fourth... the rules... we'll get to those in a few minutes." He sighed and then asked, "Did I miss any?"
Laura smiled and shook her head without lifting it. She thought about saying something but thought better of it and closed her mouth. She wasn't sure how Bill would react to her speaking out of turn.
"What?" he asked quietly.
"It's nothing, sir," she mumbled.
"Tell me, woman," he ordered.
She peeked up at him through her lashes. "Questions two and three were reversed in my mind, sir," she told him.
He smiled down at her. "Of course they were," he commented quietly. He walked away from her (but only a few feet away) and sat down in a chair. He tilted his head, lips twitching twice as he regarded her thoughtfully, and then he put his hands on his thighs. "How are your legs?"
"Fine, sir," she replied---almost automatically, because her knees were aching and her thigh muscles were beginning to complain.
"If they hurt, shift your weight or rock back and sit on your heels for a few minutes."
She nodded. Bill fell silent, seemingly content to watch her as she remained kneeling. She waited a few minutes and then she followed his advice and sat on her heels. Her knees received a little relief; her thighs stopped trembling.
"Good," he whispered roughly.
Laura closed her eyes again, concentrating on keeping her position and on keeping quiet---on following his orders.
"Do you want to hear my rules?" he asked.
"Yes, please." She had finished speaking, realised what she left off, and then quickly added: "Sir."
He snorted. "Well, you've got that one mostly committed to memory." With a sigh and a stretch of his arms, Bill relaxed into his chair. He smiled down at her. "Rule number one, we have a safe word. The instant that one of us uses it, the game stops. Not for good, just for that scene.
"Do you have a word already picked?"
"Yes, sir."
Bill smirked. "Damn, I was hoping to trick you up there." He coughed once. "What's the word, woman?"
"Algebra."
"Good. I guess that doesn't get used much in the bedroom."
She shook her head slightly as a smile curved her lips. Then, she rose back up to her full, kneeling height.
"Alright, moving on. Rule number two... three nights---or scenes, I guess---and you have to decide if you're in or out."
Forgetting her submissive posture, Laura lifted her head and stared openly at him. He smiled more, more predatorily, and he shrugged. "I told you, I'm possessive. I want to play for keeps. After three private meetings like this, you need to decide if you want to make this a permanent thing."
Laura hid her face again. Permanence wasn't something she liked to think about. Even though she was cured as far as Doctor Cottle was concerned, a part of her mind nagged her and insisted that it might not be the end of her illness. Her family's history taught her never to think too positively in that regard.
"I'm going to take as much time as you and the gods'll give me," he murmured in a gruff voice.
She knew, by the tone behind his words, that Bill had been thinking about her health problems, too.
"So, after three times, you'll have to make a decision, alright?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
"Rule number three, you only call me 'sir' here. If you call me that outside my quarters, I may not be held responsible for my actions."
Laura pressed her lips together and fought against the urge to grin as she imagined calling him 'sir' in front of others, in the way she meant it a few seconds ago, and the activities it could inspire.
"Exactly," Bill said in agreement, as if he could see the images behind her eyes. He stretched his legs and crossed them at his ankles. "Now, the second part to that rule is that if you decide to make it more than three times, you'll address me as 'Master,' when we're like this, too."
She nodded. She tried to ignore the fluttering sensation in her gut when he said that word, but she couldn't. She flushed and closed her eyes.
"Any questions so far?"
With a shake of her head, she opened her eyes. She looked up into his eyes for a moment, curiosity overpowering her for an instant; when she looked away, she felt that fluttering sensation return. She felt too exposed for someone who was still wearing most of her business suit. She felt too eager to have something she missed with someone she both wanted and trusted. Bill's calm blue gaze did nothing to calm her down, though, so she was left with her excitement and anxiety as she tried to process what was happening.
"Are you ready?"
Laura swallowed reflexively and nodded.
Bill smiled a bit. The gesture reassured her.
"Stand and undress."
She did as she was told. She rose and started on her blouse, shrugging out of it only after she had undone all of its buttons. She draped it over her shoulder and started to work on her skirt fastenings while looking around for a safe place to put her clothes so they wouldn't wrinkle.
Her blouse ended up draped on the back of his desk chair. Once she wriggled out of her skirt, she placed it on his desk. It took her a few minutes to feel comfortable enough to remove her bra and underwear; he didn't push her to hurry up (although she suspected the next time, if there was a next time, he would put a time limit on those proceedings) and once she was nude, she placed those two garments on top of her skirt.
"Shoes, too."
Laura blushed and looked down at her shoes.
"Oh."
Bill laughed softly. He laughed more when she tried to slip out of them and ended up kicking them in two different directions, so they landed on opposite sides of the room.
"Good girl," he murmured, the laughter still in his voice. "Now, get your ass over here so I can inspect it."
Laura swallowed a nervous giggle and walked over to him. When he gestured with his hand, she twirled slowly; she could feel his eyes burning paths all over her body but she didn't want him to stop staring at her. She didn't think she had ever felt so much desire directed at her---and while it made her nervous, the sensation of being wanted that much was nearly intoxicating.
He sat up and cleared his throat when she had finished her slow circle.
"Sit in my lap," he ordered.
"Ah... um... okay, sir."
"I control this," he reminded her. "And I want you close. In my lap."
Laura nodded jerkily and walked over to him. The thought of his hands on her body made her knees melt into a substance akin to jelly so the last step was difficult to complete.
She ended up straddling his legs, her bare ass resting against his knees as her own pressed into the cushions of his seat.
To help her find stability, Bill reached out and put his hands on her hips. She closed her eyes in reaction to the contact. His thumbs rubbed small circles over the bones that were showing a little too easily after the stress and smaller rations.
"Bi---sir, I mean---"
"Shhh," he whispered, "and stay still."
Laura fell quiet, watching him with wide eyes, and she stopped trying to interrupt his explorations.
His hands skimmed her hips, her abdomen, her thighs, and then they travelled upwards. One hand slid between her breasts and the other molded to her side. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her shoulder.
She shivered but she heeded his gentle commands. She didn't say anything. She didn't move.
It wasn't easy, though. She struggled against the impulses to whisper his name, to explain scars and wrinkles, to make excuses for her appearance; she struggled against the impulses to reach out and reciprocate.
Bill captured one of her nipples with his mouth. The action startled her. It seemed bolder than she'd expected for an early move---but she wasn't going to complain.
He bit into it and she nearly forgot to breathe.
The hand that had been at her side slid around to her back and moved so his hand could cup the back of her neck. He gave her a squeeze and smirked around her flesh when she sighed and sank into his lap. She spread her legs more, she arched her back, and she began to descend into the head space she required for such activities.
"Good girl," he whispered into her skin, between kisses from one breast to the other. His hand continued to rub between them; his hand continued to squeeze the back of her neck. "Good, good girl.
"Now, I want you to react. I want to hear you," he said, giving her more instructions. "You can beg. You can moan or whimper. You can't move until I tell you to. But, you can react vocally."
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
Bill continued to tease her breasts while he squeezed an intermittent rhythm through the hand on her neck. Laura couldn't relax; she knew the instant she did, he would bite into her breast and she'd want to flinch.
He nipped at them, as she suspected he would, and each time he did she had to hold herself in a rigid position so she could remain still.
But, she didn't remain quiet. She sighed when he sucked on her flesh. She whimpered when he nibbled. She moaned when he bit down.
And just when she was getting used to him and his explorations, he stopped.
"Sir... what---"
He cut her off with a sharp squeeze to the back of her neck.
"Please, sir," she whimpered. "Please."
"What do you want, woman?" he asked.
"More," she breathed. She opened her eyes and looked down into his face. "More, sir," she repeated, to assure him that she was willing to go further into the game.
Bill released the back of her neck and Laura immediately missed its presence. She remembered a collar she had once had, back when things were simpler (but usually more complicated), and his hand on her neck reminded her of how it felt to have the heavy leather against her skin.
He smiled a little, kissed her collarbone once, and then leaned back in his chair. She could feel another command coming and she prayed it was something more---more of a challenge, more sensation, and more to commit to memory on colder and lonelier nights. She held her breath and waited.
He didn't disappoint her.
"Stand, facing away from me," he told her. "Spread your legs and bend down to hold your ankles."
He helped her to her feet but he released her after that. She instantly missed his hands on her skin. But, she also wanted to see how far they could take their game before the evening was called to an end (she doubted that they wouldn't be interrupted but tried to ignore that thought) so she didn't protest out loud.
Laura turned, her back to him, and then she slowly spread her legs. She hadn't had to rely on her ability to seduce in a long time---or at least, in what felt like a long time---but when she let the metaphorical cat out of the bag she found it was hard to restrain that side of her personality.
She arched her back, knowing some of her curves were being more prominently displayed, and she spread her legs slowly in little steps so her hips swayed back and forth to highlight that display.
Bill's quiet grunt was all the indication she needed to know that her actions were affecting him.
She put her hands on her thighs and slowly slid them down her legs. She bent at the waist, sliding down until she felt her ankles under her palms. Then, she took a deep breath before closing her eyes and willing herself to surrender to the man behind her.
He let her stand there for a few very long minutes. The insecure side of her worried about displeasing him, about not being what he wanted. The rest of her wanted to yell at him to stop gawking and to hurry up.
Yelling would lead to (more) punishment (than she wanted).
She needed to find a better way to entice him.
Just when she thought she had it figured out she felt his breath on her skin. She hadn't heard him move (his chairs usually made small noises as springs and cushions readjusted) but his breath was there. It teased her; it also warned her that the game was about to resume.
He made a sound of quiet amusement as one of his fingers circled a mark. It was a small cluster of freckles she had had since childhood, located above one of the dimples in her lower back. Her mother told her that it resembled one of her favourite constellations when she was too young to bathe by herself, but later on in life, Laura thought it looked more like nothing than something.
She wondered what Bill thought it resembled but she was too afraid to ask the question---not for his answer but for breaking their (unspoken) rules.
His hand made more contact with her. His palm cupped one side of her ass and squeezed. He put some force into the squeeze, pushing her into swaying. She pushed back to counteract his actions, but then he put his other hand on her in a similar fashion; he pushed with both hands and lifted her up onto her toes into a precarious position from which she would have fallen if he wasn't holding onto her securely.
She trusted him not to let her fall.
Bill spread the globes of her ass apart and when she was fully exposed to him, he groaned. The sound was long and low, full of unspoken longing and dark desires that he kept hidden from everyone else aboard the ship.
The sound made her insides tighten.
He guided her back onto her heels and then he released one hand to bring it down upon her in a slap that made her moan and shudder.
"Do you like that?"
She nodded.
"Woman."
"Yes... yes, sir," she said, trying (and failing) to keep the whimper out of her voice.
Another slap to the same spot caused her heart to jump up into her throat.
"Is tonight about atonement?" he inquired.
She shook her head. "No, sir."
"Tell me what you want."
"I... I want to please you," she whispered. "I want to feel... and to stop thinking, sir."
Her confessions made her body react; arousal flooded her body, leaking out enough so she could smell the telltale scent on the air. She had never acknowledged her feelings aloud before; admitting to them, to him, made her warmer than she had felt in a long time.
"You're going to follow my orders," he instructed. "You're going think of nothing else but serving me. And if I decide you've been a good girl, then I'll reward you. I'll take care of you, if you'll let me."
"Yes, sir."
She felt her mind give up---as if a switch had been flicked---and surrender to him and to their situation. The last few steps into her more submissive head space were complete and her shoulders felt ten times lighter than they had a couple of hours ago.
He released her but made sure she was steady before really easing away from her.
"Stay like that."
She had no intention of moving until she was told to move, but she appreciated that he had given her an order to follow.
"I'm going to get a few things."
Somehow he climbed out of his chair without touching her. She heard him rummaging around but she didn't move. She felt the ache in the backs of her thighs and in her back, but she didn't try to adjust her position.
He rewarded her with an open-mouthed kiss to her upper thigh when he returned. He sucked in her skin, applying enough force to leave a bruise. But, then, he bit down---not hard enough to draw blood, only hard enough to probably put an imprint there over the new bruise.
"Oh, gods," she whimpered. "Sir---"
"Delicious," he growled, just before he brought his hand down to smack over the injured flesh.
Laura mewled. There was no other word for it. The pain was dull and then it was sharp again, burning through her nervous system before she could prepare for it. Her reaction was instinctual. She wouldn't (couldn't) move away. Noise was the only release she had at her disposal and she used it.
Bill must have been pleased. He groaned and rubbed over the same spot gently.
"You'll sit tomorrow and you'll feel this," he whispered.
She whimpered in anticipation of sitting in a Quorum meeting and feeling that ache (and knowing why it was there) in front of a room of unsuspecting politicians.
"Maybe I'll show up and watch," he continued.
A moan escaped Laura's mouth as she contemplated his presence at the session. He would know. He would smirk and he would know; she would fall apart if she wasn't careful.
His hands moved from her ass to her thighs. Then, they went back up, over her curves to her waist. From there, they groped their way to her breasts where he gently cupped each one and squeezed them. He released all but her nipples and spent a few minutes manipulating them. He teased them. He brought each one to a fine point---a fine, aching, throbbing point---and then he released them.
The first sensation of cool metal on one of her nipples was a shock to her system. She hadn't expected clamps of any kind (because, really, what were the chances of him bringing them aboard the Galactica?) but when she looked at her breast, she nearly laughed when she saw a hairpin pinching her sensitive skin.
"Found 'em in the gym a few days ago," he told her as he attached the second. "Hoped they'd come in handy."
"Resourceful, sir," she whispered.
He gently spanked her. Laura stifled a reactionary giggle and pressed her lips together.
"Is it too much?"
"No, sir," she replied. Unnecessarily, she added: "It's what I need."
Bill grunted in agreement and then scooped her hair off of her face and neck. Laura felt him gathering it up, and she thought she felt him tying something around it. That sensation was confirmed when he released her hair and it didn't tumble over her shoulders again.
She said a silent prayer to the gods, in the hopes that it wasn't an uncovered elastic band around her hair. But, she wouldn't ask what he had done. She wasn't feeling incredibly disobedient.
"Stand, woman," he said gruffly.
Her nipples were burning. Her back and thighs ached as she straightened. Her thighs continued to complain, though, because she didn't push her legs together---because she hadn't been given the order to do so.
Still, throughout the aches and pains, she had to resist the urge to grin. She was having the most fun she'd had in years.
"So obedient," he mused in that same rough tone of voice. He smirked and walked around her. She remained staring straight ahead. "So beautiful... so smart... I wish we had figured this out about each other sooner," he commented idly as he stroked a finger over her spine.
Laura shivered and closed her eyes.
He brought one of his hands between her legs. It covered the apex of her thighs, his palm against her opening and his fingers against her folds. A moment later, they slid between them, playing with the slippery skin he found there.
"Not as wet as you're going to be in a little while, but I'm not going to complain," he whispered near her ear. "You're going to take what I give you and you're going to love it, aren't you?"
She swallowed hard and nodded. She knew his words were the truth---she wouldn't have stayed that long, alone, with him if she thought he couldn't deliver.
One of his fingers (she guessed the middle one, although she had no basis for making that assumption because every inch of her was tingling too much to process any additional information) circled her clit once, then twice. The nerve endings tingled more and sent signals up through her body; muscles tightened, pulses quickened, and all Laura could think was that she wanted more.
Before she could beg, his hand curled. It gripped her, squeezing to the point of pain, and he put some force behind his fist. She was lifted again, unexpectedly, and she nearly fell forward but Bill caught her by putting his other hand on her abdomen.
He moved his hand although he never released his hold on her.
Laura whimpered. She tipped her head back and rested it on his shoulder. He rewarded her with a bite to her neck.
Between the bite (and the kiss that followed) and his hand wriggling, Laura's arousal increased. His combination of pain and pleasure was enough to help her lose her sense of self (schoolteacher, political operative, mistress, president...) so she was only his. She couldn't think (and she didn't care to think) past what he was doing and what he wanted from her.
When he released her, she moaned her complaint and leaned back against him.
He chuckled and nudged one of her legs with his knee. "Legs together and turn around," he ordered her.
As she turned, he turned. He walked around her, staying at her back---the only thing about that evening that disappointed her. She wanted to see his face, his smirk... she wanted to look into his eyes and see how aroused he was. She wanted to see if he was aroused as she was.
But, he remained behind her.
"Put your hands on the arms of the chair," he ordered her quietly. His mouth couldn't have been more that an inch away from her ear; his words vibrated through her body and made her whimper and contemplate begging. "Lean over."
"O-oh," she whispered.
"I can't wait any longer," he explained as she moved into position. "I'm going to spank you until you fall to pieces and then I'm going to frak you until you're begging me to let you cum."
"Oh, frak," she breathed. She heard him clear his throat. She snorted and then added, "Sir. Oh, frak, sir."
Bill laughed quietly and put his hands on her hips, as if cementing her position once she was in place.
The first time he put his hand on her, it was a light touch---barely a slap. Laura had been bracing herself for something more akin to the contact from earlier, on top of her bite, and she startled when she received the first spank of his hand.
"I control this," he reminded her.
He warmed her skin with light slaps, peppering them down on her ass with precise, efficient movements. Laura did her best not to move; she couldn't resist whimpering, though.
Bill seemed to enjoy the sounds she was making. He encouraged her with quiet, gruff words and a firm hand.
As the force behind his hand increased, the volume of Laura's voice increased, too.
She yelped and whined but she never moved. Her legs were trembling and her hands were digging into the arms of the chair, but she never moved form her position because he wanted her to stay there.
The blows were coming down harder. Their rhythm was harder to predict so Laura could never gather herself to prepare for the next one---but she liked it better that way.
Her body was tense and on edge. It felt as if pressure was building inside of her, curling or folding in on itself until there was no more room for it to go. Thoughts were swirling inside her mind---too much, not enough, the price of absolution, the relief of finding someone who knew what's needed---and she couldn't sort through them quickly enough.
She pushed back into Bill's hand, she dug her nails into the chair, and she mewled and howled until her throat was sore; she did everything she could think of to try to relieve the pressure.
Had she been in clearer state of mind, she would have reminded herself that the pressure could only be relieved on its own. But, in her present position, she couldn't think past the man behind her and the hands on her skin.
And when Bill praised her, crooning gruffly, Laura heard what she needed to hear and the pressure began to build in a way she had never experienced before---not with her professor of Historical & Philosophical Foundations of Caprican Education, not with Richard. This was a reaction that Bill seemed to possess or extract from her. She couldn't stop it (but she didn't want to, either).
She cried out and pushed back into his hands, arching her back in the process. There was nothing but Bill behind her and the response she was having to his ministrations; nothing else mattered to her except for the peace she was approaching.
The frenzy passed slowly, ebbing away and leaving her in that still, quiet place in her mindset that she hadn't visited in so long.
She could feel her muscles' spasms. She could feel her throat's rawness when she swallowed, when her deep, panting breaths allowed her to do so. She could feel her tears on her cheeks.
But, through all of that, she could feel peace. Sweet peace and quiet where politics and cylons and cancer didn't exist.
"Frak," Bill whispered.
He sounded awed. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him. He had a silly smile on his face (an expression she had never seen in its purest form, she realised in that moment) when he looked back at her.
"I've never seen any woman... do that," he explained.
"I've never done that before, sir," she admitted, smirking at him.
Bill moved his fingers over her pink skin and then between her legs. He explored the evidence of her climax (tightening muscles, fluids, and a pulse that never seemed to regulate or slow down). He made quiet noises of approval which only increased the internal peace she was feeling.
His fingers were replaced by his erection. A quick glance over her shoulder told Laura that he was still dressed. His pants appeared to be hanging on around his knees. An eager expression had taken residence in his eyes.
He slid inside of her inch by inch until she was whimpering again. There was no desperation the second time. She just felt him, taking more of what he needed, and they way they interlocked despite their opposites (atheist and believer, male and female, top and bottom).
Each thrust of his hips rocked her forward into the chair and onto her toes. Her breath hitched each time he was up against her body; his body's hairs and warmth only inflamed her abused flesh but his thick presence on the inside and his hands on the outside (and elsewhere) soothed her.
"Sir, please---I---"
She heard herself begging again. It wasn't for the emotional release or for the escape from her life outside of Bill's quarters. It was for the pleasure she was being given as he took his pleasure from her. It was for the different sort of climax that she knew would come when they both surrendered.
Bill's groans grew louder. She never heard him utter her name (but he stopped calling her 'woman'). He'd praise her, curse the gods, or he'd resort to nearly senseless mutterings that almost affected her as much as his hands did.
His hands were roaming her body, possessing her as much as they could. One stroked her side before settling on her hip; the other slid along her spine until it reached her neck.
Laura whimpered when he squeezed. It was the right move; it reminded her of who she was (in that moment) and what they were doing.
He fell silent a moment before his hips tightened, before she realised he had reached climax. Laura heard a low moan above her and she smiled to herself.
She felt his release inside of her, adding to the (sticky, slippery, but worthwhile) mess a moment after his hand on her neck tightened.
She expected him to pull out of her body and end things there. He didn't. He remained inside of her; the hand that was on her hip moved around to meet where they were joined.
"Sir---"
"Shhh," he whispered, interrupting her. "I'm still in charge."
Laura shuddered. His fingers found her sensitive nerves and he rubbed steady circles over them until she was moaning and trembling underneath him again.
He worked her over without mercy. His thumb slipped past her curls, sliding in her juices, and it worked slow circles over the swollen nub he found there. He wasn't hard inside of her anymore; but, he was thick and heavy in there and that helped her along.
She climaxed on a low, long moan. Her knees gave out but Bill caught her. He wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He murmured quiet, sweet words until she felt steadier.
Bill pulled out of her body after she was standing on her own. He gathered her up in his arms; he guided her over to his rack and settled her down on the mattress.
"Sir---"
"Shhh," he whispered.
He disappeared for a minute. She heard him rummaging around his quarters but the sounds weren't really processed. She couldn't put an explanation to what she was hearing.
Bill returned carrying a few items that he set down on the bedside table. Laura noticed that he had finally undressed. She allowed her gaze to roam over his body (he wasn't perfectly sculpted, but she never thought too much of perfection in that regard, anyway). Then, she smiled at him briefly before closing her eyes, giving him the freedom to do whatever he wished to do.
He spread her legs wider and then settled down between them. He reached for something. A moment later he was wiping her down with great care.
Laura sighed appreciatively.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
"Turn over," he murmured.
She didn't move until he moved. She settled on her front and felt the pain from the hairpins on her nipples but it was only a distant annoyance (but not really an annoyance, more like a reminder).
Bill rubbed some sort of lotion or cream into her previously-abused flesh. Laura moaned, trying to wordlessly tell him how grateful she felt for his care.
He chuckled and kissed down her spine as he worked the salve into her skin.
"Turn over," he said again.
She obeyed lazily. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him.
Bill straddled her thighs and carefully leaned forward. His fingers brushed over her breasts. She flinched---not away from but into the touch.
"Minx," he growled.
She laughed breathlessly.
He shifted, adjusting his position carefully so he wouldn't jostle her, and then he leaned down more.
"I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time," he whispered.
Without giving her a moment to contemplate what he wanted, he dropped his head down and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss started out slowly, but it blossomed into something that was deep and messy (and oh so good).
And that was when he reached down between them and removed the hairpins from her nipples.
Laura cried out so loudly that Bill couldn't smother all of the sound with his kiss. The relief of pain combined with such a delicious activity sent her spiraling into another storm of desire.
Even without another surprise orgasm, Laura thought the outpouring of sensation would have been perfect (she wasn't complaining, though). The longing had been building through the kiss, but releasing her tender skin from their metal captors sent a fresh wave of electricity through her body.
Her throat protested when she cried out (loudly, sharply), but she didn't care. She thought achieving release (both sexual and emotional) at his hand would have been all she could handle.
She was wrong; her body rode out the waves of pleasure that flowed through her and it handled those effects, too.
When the storm faded, she was left warm, sated, and so relaxed that she couldn't imagine anything bothering her in the near future.
"Oh... gods," she whispered, her voice cracking even at that low volume.
She opened her eyes and found that her lashes were wet again. She blushed as she looked up into Bill's face.
"Beautiful," he whispered, smiling at her.
"I... sir, I don't know what to say---"
He eased off of her and gathered her into his arms. "Game's over now," he said once she was settled against him, "don't you think?"
Laura nodded, a smile curving her lips. She tucked her face into his neck and shoulder. She inhaled slowly, deeply, and as she exhaled she began the mental climb out of her submissive state of mind.
"How are you feeling, Laura?" he asked in a quiet, concerned voice.
"So much better," she murmured. Her arms snaked out and wrapped themselves around his torso. "Thank you, Bill."
"I should thank you, too," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you for trusting me."
Laura giggled into his skin. She laughed because she felt weightless, only secured to the mattress by his arms, and because she hadn't felt that good in such a long time.
"What?" he asked.
"I just... I feel good. It's... the rush, the release..."
"You just needed it," he reminded her. "If there's a next time, I doubt I'll be able to---"
"Oh, no, you don't," she interrupted, lifting her head. She pressed her lips to his and stole a quick kiss. "Some of it was that I needed it. Some of it was that... you just read me so well. I fully expect fireworks again---if there's a next time."
Bill grunted. "Well, I certainly feel pressure now," he commented.
"Good."
"You're a demanding woman, you know that?"
She smiled. "The best bottoms are demanding, don't you think?" she purred.
"Well, I think you're the best I ever had," he admitted before kissing her again. "Will ever have," he amended.
"When I leave in an hour---"
He sighed. "Don't bring me down. I'll go back to being the Admiral and you'll go back to being a presidential pain in my ass."
"Until I want you to be a pain in my ass, again," she whispered before a big yawn that cracked her jaw.
His chuckle made her smile. Then, she giggled softly.
When Bill prompted her, she said, "I never would've expected this from you." She paused and then laughed again. "Honestly... how on Kobol---"
He silenced her with a quick (but firm) kiss. "I'm just smart," he told her, smiling smugly.
"Oh, yeah? And what am I?" Laura demanded in a playfully irritated tone of voice.
"Amazing."
Laura blushed. "Oh. Well... fine, then," she murmured.
Bill guided her to him, pillowing her head on his shoulder, and then he put his hands on her back. She yielded easily---not because she was still feeling the need to submit, but because she didn't think she had ever felt so at peace before.
"I'll wake you when it's time to catch your shuttle," he whispered.
His words (and her unspoken response of "How did he know I want to sleep now?") were the last things her mind registered before she fell asleep.
TBC... I think.
PAIRING: Adama/Roslin
RATING: en.sea.xvii
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone. I'm just having a little fun, and I promise to put the characters away, spic and span, when I'm finished.
SPOILERS: None, really. I guess this is somewhere in s2? I'm still pretty new to the show, so I'm uncertain about the timeline.
WARNINGS: D/s kink.
NOTES: Since I'm new to the fandom, I really don't know what I'm doing here. Maybe this is just an exercise to see if some things transfer over into that realm. Maybe it doesn't work. Maybe it's completely out of character. I don't know. I just needed to try to write it. Let me know what you think!
PART ONE
"Why are you here, woman?"
Laura swallowed hard, past the nervous (giddy) lump in her throat, and she looked down at the well-worn but polished boots moving towards her. They stopped because the man wearing them stopped.
"I'm here because you want me down here, sir."
Bill chuckled. "Not kneeling on the floor in front of me. Why are you here with me, tonight?"
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. It felt like such a loaded question. She knew that she missed her affair with Richard (but not so much the man himself), and that she missed feeling desire humming through her body. She missed feeling (something other than fear, anger, confusion, betrayal, and loneliness). And when the man in front of her had admitted that he noticed certain things about her and that he was extending an offer for certain activities that could help her, she could admit to herself that she felt glimpses of things that she hadn't experienced in a long time.
But, she knew the game (she hadn't played since before the destruction of the colonies, but she remembered the different types of rules) and she was pretty sure she knew what sort of answer he wanted to hear.
Laura catalogued her feelings, compartmentalised what wasn't relevant, and then inhaled as she prepared to respond to him.
"I'm here because I trust you, sir."
He put his fingers into her hair and gently massaged her head. It was a reward and she received it as such; she closed her eyes, leaned into the contact, and enjoyed the moment.
The truth was that she was in his quarters with the hatch firmly locked because he dragged her there---because he had finally figured what was wrong with her (even if he didn't apparently see it as a flaw---and instead chose to see it as an opportunity) and because she hadn't had enough strength to pull away from his grip and his force of nature.
"Good," he whispered. "Do you have any questions?"
"Yes, sir," she replied.
He chuckled. Laura felt the sound travel through her, vibrating and tickling her; she wanted to shift or react in some other way, to show that she enjoyed the sound, but she knew she wasn't allowed to move so she struggled against the impulse.
"Let's answer your questions, then," he said quietly. "First, I noticed because it's been too long for you. It's been too long for me, too, but I could see you need it.
"Second, my ex-wife... we... tried it. She thought it would be fun," he explained, "to spice up our dying relationship with something a little different. But, it didn't work. It was something else for me, after some thought. It loosened up something in my head, things made more sense. It scared me, but now I've made peace with it.
"Third, I'm not cruel." Bill paused, saw her forehead's tension (its muscles had tightened as she listened to him answering her unasked questions), and chuckled again. "I'm demanding... possessive... but not cruel. I won't hurt you any more than you want or need. I'll push you until you break---but I'll take care of you afterwards."
"And fourth... the rules... we'll get to those in a few minutes." He sighed and then asked, "Did I miss any?"
Laura smiled and shook her head without lifting it. She thought about saying something but thought better of it and closed her mouth. She wasn't sure how Bill would react to her speaking out of turn.
"What?" he asked quietly.
"It's nothing, sir," she mumbled.
"Tell me, woman," he ordered.
She peeked up at him through her lashes. "Questions two and three were reversed in my mind, sir," she told him.
He smiled down at her. "Of course they were," he commented quietly. He walked away from her (but only a few feet away) and sat down in a chair. He tilted his head, lips twitching twice as he regarded her thoughtfully, and then he put his hands on his thighs. "How are your legs?"
"Fine, sir," she replied---almost automatically, because her knees were aching and her thigh muscles were beginning to complain.
"If they hurt, shift your weight or rock back and sit on your heels for a few minutes."
She nodded. Bill fell silent, seemingly content to watch her as she remained kneeling. She waited a few minutes and then she followed his advice and sat on her heels. Her knees received a little relief; her thighs stopped trembling.
"Good," he whispered roughly.
Laura closed her eyes again, concentrating on keeping her position and on keeping quiet---on following his orders.
"Do you want to hear my rules?" he asked.
"Yes, please." She had finished speaking, realised what she left off, and then quickly added: "Sir."
He snorted. "Well, you've got that one mostly committed to memory." With a sigh and a stretch of his arms, Bill relaxed into his chair. He smiled down at her. "Rule number one, we have a safe word. The instant that one of us uses it, the game stops. Not for good, just for that scene.
"Do you have a word already picked?"
"Yes, sir."
Bill smirked. "Damn, I was hoping to trick you up there." He coughed once. "What's the word, woman?"
"Algebra."
"Good. I guess that doesn't get used much in the bedroom."
She shook her head slightly as a smile curved her lips. Then, she rose back up to her full, kneeling height.
"Alright, moving on. Rule number two... three nights---or scenes, I guess---and you have to decide if you're in or out."
Forgetting her submissive posture, Laura lifted her head and stared openly at him. He smiled more, more predatorily, and he shrugged. "I told you, I'm possessive. I want to play for keeps. After three private meetings like this, you need to decide if you want to make this a permanent thing."
Laura hid her face again. Permanence wasn't something she liked to think about. Even though she was cured as far as Doctor Cottle was concerned, a part of her mind nagged her and insisted that it might not be the end of her illness. Her family's history taught her never to think too positively in that regard.
"I'm going to take as much time as you and the gods'll give me," he murmured in a gruff voice.
She knew, by the tone behind his words, that Bill had been thinking about her health problems, too.
"So, after three times, you'll have to make a decision, alright?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
"Rule number three, you only call me 'sir' here. If you call me that outside my quarters, I may not be held responsible for my actions."
Laura pressed her lips together and fought against the urge to grin as she imagined calling him 'sir' in front of others, in the way she meant it a few seconds ago, and the activities it could inspire.
"Exactly," Bill said in agreement, as if he could see the images behind her eyes. He stretched his legs and crossed them at his ankles. "Now, the second part to that rule is that if you decide to make it more than three times, you'll address me as 'Master,' when we're like this, too."
She nodded. She tried to ignore the fluttering sensation in her gut when he said that word, but she couldn't. She flushed and closed her eyes.
"Any questions so far?"
With a shake of her head, she opened her eyes. She looked up into his eyes for a moment, curiosity overpowering her for an instant; when she looked away, she felt that fluttering sensation return. She felt too exposed for someone who was still wearing most of her business suit. She felt too eager to have something she missed with someone she both wanted and trusted. Bill's calm blue gaze did nothing to calm her down, though, so she was left with her excitement and anxiety as she tried to process what was happening.
"Are you ready?"
Laura swallowed reflexively and nodded.
Bill smiled a bit. The gesture reassured her.
"Stand and undress."
She did as she was told. She rose and started on her blouse, shrugging out of it only after she had undone all of its buttons. She draped it over her shoulder and started to work on her skirt fastenings while looking around for a safe place to put her clothes so they wouldn't wrinkle.
Her blouse ended up draped on the back of his desk chair. Once she wriggled out of her skirt, she placed it on his desk. It took her a few minutes to feel comfortable enough to remove her bra and underwear; he didn't push her to hurry up (although she suspected the next time, if there was a next time, he would put a time limit on those proceedings) and once she was nude, she placed those two garments on top of her skirt.
"Shoes, too."
Laura blushed and looked down at her shoes.
"Oh."
Bill laughed softly. He laughed more when she tried to slip out of them and ended up kicking them in two different directions, so they landed on opposite sides of the room.
"Good girl," he murmured, the laughter still in his voice. "Now, get your ass over here so I can inspect it."
Laura swallowed a nervous giggle and walked over to him. When he gestured with his hand, she twirled slowly; she could feel his eyes burning paths all over her body but she didn't want him to stop staring at her. She didn't think she had ever felt so much desire directed at her---and while it made her nervous, the sensation of being wanted that much was nearly intoxicating.
He sat up and cleared his throat when she had finished her slow circle.
"Sit in my lap," he ordered.
"Ah... um... okay, sir."
"I control this," he reminded her. "And I want you close. In my lap."
Laura nodded jerkily and walked over to him. The thought of his hands on her body made her knees melt into a substance akin to jelly so the last step was difficult to complete.
She ended up straddling his legs, her bare ass resting against his knees as her own pressed into the cushions of his seat.
To help her find stability, Bill reached out and put his hands on her hips. She closed her eyes in reaction to the contact. His thumbs rubbed small circles over the bones that were showing a little too easily after the stress and smaller rations.
"Bi---sir, I mean---"
"Shhh," he whispered, "and stay still."
Laura fell quiet, watching him with wide eyes, and she stopped trying to interrupt his explorations.
His hands skimmed her hips, her abdomen, her thighs, and then they travelled upwards. One hand slid between her breasts and the other molded to her side. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her shoulder.
She shivered but she heeded his gentle commands. She didn't say anything. She didn't move.
It wasn't easy, though. She struggled against the impulses to whisper his name, to explain scars and wrinkles, to make excuses for her appearance; she struggled against the impulses to reach out and reciprocate.
Bill captured one of her nipples with his mouth. The action startled her. It seemed bolder than she'd expected for an early move---but she wasn't going to complain.
He bit into it and she nearly forgot to breathe.
The hand that had been at her side slid around to her back and moved so his hand could cup the back of her neck. He gave her a squeeze and smirked around her flesh when she sighed and sank into his lap. She spread her legs more, she arched her back, and she began to descend into the head space she required for such activities.
"Good girl," he whispered into her skin, between kisses from one breast to the other. His hand continued to rub between them; his hand continued to squeeze the back of her neck. "Good, good girl.
"Now, I want you to react. I want to hear you," he said, giving her more instructions. "You can beg. You can moan or whimper. You can't move until I tell you to. But, you can react vocally."
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
Bill continued to tease her breasts while he squeezed an intermittent rhythm through the hand on her neck. Laura couldn't relax; she knew the instant she did, he would bite into her breast and she'd want to flinch.
He nipped at them, as she suspected he would, and each time he did she had to hold herself in a rigid position so she could remain still.
But, she didn't remain quiet. She sighed when he sucked on her flesh. She whimpered when he nibbled. She moaned when he bit down.
And just when she was getting used to him and his explorations, he stopped.
"Sir... what---"
He cut her off with a sharp squeeze to the back of her neck.
"Please, sir," she whimpered. "Please."
"What do you want, woman?" he asked.
"More," she breathed. She opened her eyes and looked down into his face. "More, sir," she repeated, to assure him that she was willing to go further into the game.
Bill released the back of her neck and Laura immediately missed its presence. She remembered a collar she had once had, back when things were simpler (but usually more complicated), and his hand on her neck reminded her of how it felt to have the heavy leather against her skin.
He smiled a little, kissed her collarbone once, and then leaned back in his chair. She could feel another command coming and she prayed it was something more---more of a challenge, more sensation, and more to commit to memory on colder and lonelier nights. She held her breath and waited.
He didn't disappoint her.
"Stand, facing away from me," he told her. "Spread your legs and bend down to hold your ankles."
He helped her to her feet but he released her after that. She instantly missed his hands on her skin. But, she also wanted to see how far they could take their game before the evening was called to an end (she doubted that they wouldn't be interrupted but tried to ignore that thought) so she didn't protest out loud.
Laura turned, her back to him, and then she slowly spread her legs. She hadn't had to rely on her ability to seduce in a long time---or at least, in what felt like a long time---but when she let the metaphorical cat out of the bag she found it was hard to restrain that side of her personality.
She arched her back, knowing some of her curves were being more prominently displayed, and she spread her legs slowly in little steps so her hips swayed back and forth to highlight that display.
Bill's quiet grunt was all the indication she needed to know that her actions were affecting him.
She put her hands on her thighs and slowly slid them down her legs. She bent at the waist, sliding down until she felt her ankles under her palms. Then, she took a deep breath before closing her eyes and willing herself to surrender to the man behind her.
He let her stand there for a few very long minutes. The insecure side of her worried about displeasing him, about not being what he wanted. The rest of her wanted to yell at him to stop gawking and to hurry up.
Yelling would lead to (more) punishment (than she wanted).
She needed to find a better way to entice him.
Just when she thought she had it figured out she felt his breath on her skin. She hadn't heard him move (his chairs usually made small noises as springs and cushions readjusted) but his breath was there. It teased her; it also warned her that the game was about to resume.
He made a sound of quiet amusement as one of his fingers circled a mark. It was a small cluster of freckles she had had since childhood, located above one of the dimples in her lower back. Her mother told her that it resembled one of her favourite constellations when she was too young to bathe by herself, but later on in life, Laura thought it looked more like nothing than something.
She wondered what Bill thought it resembled but she was too afraid to ask the question---not for his answer but for breaking their (unspoken) rules.
His hand made more contact with her. His palm cupped one side of her ass and squeezed. He put some force into the squeeze, pushing her into swaying. She pushed back to counteract his actions, but then he put his other hand on her in a similar fashion; he pushed with both hands and lifted her up onto her toes into a precarious position from which she would have fallen if he wasn't holding onto her securely.
She trusted him not to let her fall.
Bill spread the globes of her ass apart and when she was fully exposed to him, he groaned. The sound was long and low, full of unspoken longing and dark desires that he kept hidden from everyone else aboard the ship.
The sound made her insides tighten.
He guided her back onto her heels and then he released one hand to bring it down upon her in a slap that made her moan and shudder.
"Do you like that?"
She nodded.
"Woman."
"Yes... yes, sir," she said, trying (and failing) to keep the whimper out of her voice.
Another slap to the same spot caused her heart to jump up into her throat.
"Is tonight about atonement?" he inquired.
She shook her head. "No, sir."
"Tell me what you want."
"I... I want to please you," she whispered. "I want to feel... and to stop thinking, sir."
Her confessions made her body react; arousal flooded her body, leaking out enough so she could smell the telltale scent on the air. She had never acknowledged her feelings aloud before; admitting to them, to him, made her warmer than she had felt in a long time.
"You're going to follow my orders," he instructed. "You're going think of nothing else but serving me. And if I decide you've been a good girl, then I'll reward you. I'll take care of you, if you'll let me."
"Yes, sir."
She felt her mind give up---as if a switch had been flicked---and surrender to him and to their situation. The last few steps into her more submissive head space were complete and her shoulders felt ten times lighter than they had a couple of hours ago.
He released her but made sure she was steady before really easing away from her.
"Stay like that."
She had no intention of moving until she was told to move, but she appreciated that he had given her an order to follow.
"I'm going to get a few things."
Somehow he climbed out of his chair without touching her. She heard him rummaging around but she didn't move. She felt the ache in the backs of her thighs and in her back, but she didn't try to adjust her position.
He rewarded her with an open-mouthed kiss to her upper thigh when he returned. He sucked in her skin, applying enough force to leave a bruise. But, then, he bit down---not hard enough to draw blood, only hard enough to probably put an imprint there over the new bruise.
"Oh, gods," she whimpered. "Sir---"
"Delicious," he growled, just before he brought his hand down to smack over the injured flesh.
Laura mewled. There was no other word for it. The pain was dull and then it was sharp again, burning through her nervous system before she could prepare for it. Her reaction was instinctual. She wouldn't (couldn't) move away. Noise was the only release she had at her disposal and she used it.
Bill must have been pleased. He groaned and rubbed over the same spot gently.
"You'll sit tomorrow and you'll feel this," he whispered.
She whimpered in anticipation of sitting in a Quorum meeting and feeling that ache (and knowing why it was there) in front of a room of unsuspecting politicians.
"Maybe I'll show up and watch," he continued.
A moan escaped Laura's mouth as she contemplated his presence at the session. He would know. He would smirk and he would know; she would fall apart if she wasn't careful.
His hands moved from her ass to her thighs. Then, they went back up, over her curves to her waist. From there, they groped their way to her breasts where he gently cupped each one and squeezed them. He released all but her nipples and spent a few minutes manipulating them. He teased them. He brought each one to a fine point---a fine, aching, throbbing point---and then he released them.
The first sensation of cool metal on one of her nipples was a shock to her system. She hadn't expected clamps of any kind (because, really, what were the chances of him bringing them aboard the Galactica?) but when she looked at her breast, she nearly laughed when she saw a hairpin pinching her sensitive skin.
"Found 'em in the gym a few days ago," he told her as he attached the second. "Hoped they'd come in handy."
"Resourceful, sir," she whispered.
He gently spanked her. Laura stifled a reactionary giggle and pressed her lips together.
"Is it too much?"
"No, sir," she replied. Unnecessarily, she added: "It's what I need."
Bill grunted in agreement and then scooped her hair off of her face and neck. Laura felt him gathering it up, and she thought she felt him tying something around it. That sensation was confirmed when he released her hair and it didn't tumble over her shoulders again.
She said a silent prayer to the gods, in the hopes that it wasn't an uncovered elastic band around her hair. But, she wouldn't ask what he had done. She wasn't feeling incredibly disobedient.
"Stand, woman," he said gruffly.
Her nipples were burning. Her back and thighs ached as she straightened. Her thighs continued to complain, though, because she didn't push her legs together---because she hadn't been given the order to do so.
Still, throughout the aches and pains, she had to resist the urge to grin. She was having the most fun she'd had in years.
"So obedient," he mused in that same rough tone of voice. He smirked and walked around her. She remained staring straight ahead. "So beautiful... so smart... I wish we had figured this out about each other sooner," he commented idly as he stroked a finger over her spine.
Laura shivered and closed her eyes.
He brought one of his hands between her legs. It covered the apex of her thighs, his palm against her opening and his fingers against her folds. A moment later, they slid between them, playing with the slippery skin he found there.
"Not as wet as you're going to be in a little while, but I'm not going to complain," he whispered near her ear. "You're going to take what I give you and you're going to love it, aren't you?"
She swallowed hard and nodded. She knew his words were the truth---she wouldn't have stayed that long, alone, with him if she thought he couldn't deliver.
One of his fingers (she guessed the middle one, although she had no basis for making that assumption because every inch of her was tingling too much to process any additional information) circled her clit once, then twice. The nerve endings tingled more and sent signals up through her body; muscles tightened, pulses quickened, and all Laura could think was that she wanted more.
Before she could beg, his hand curled. It gripped her, squeezing to the point of pain, and he put some force behind his fist. She was lifted again, unexpectedly, and she nearly fell forward but Bill caught her by putting his other hand on her abdomen.
He moved his hand although he never released his hold on her.
Laura whimpered. She tipped her head back and rested it on his shoulder. He rewarded her with a bite to her neck.
Between the bite (and the kiss that followed) and his hand wriggling, Laura's arousal increased. His combination of pain and pleasure was enough to help her lose her sense of self (schoolteacher, political operative, mistress, president...) so she was only his. She couldn't think (and she didn't care to think) past what he was doing and what he wanted from her.
When he released her, she moaned her complaint and leaned back against him.
He chuckled and nudged one of her legs with his knee. "Legs together and turn around," he ordered her.
As she turned, he turned. He walked around her, staying at her back---the only thing about that evening that disappointed her. She wanted to see his face, his smirk... she wanted to look into his eyes and see how aroused he was. She wanted to see if he was aroused as she was.
But, he remained behind her.
"Put your hands on the arms of the chair," he ordered her quietly. His mouth couldn't have been more that an inch away from her ear; his words vibrated through her body and made her whimper and contemplate begging. "Lean over."
"O-oh," she whispered.
"I can't wait any longer," he explained as she moved into position. "I'm going to spank you until you fall to pieces and then I'm going to frak you until you're begging me to let you cum."
"Oh, frak," she breathed. She heard him clear his throat. She snorted and then added, "Sir. Oh, frak, sir."
Bill laughed quietly and put his hands on her hips, as if cementing her position once she was in place.
The first time he put his hand on her, it was a light touch---barely a slap. Laura had been bracing herself for something more akin to the contact from earlier, on top of her bite, and she startled when she received the first spank of his hand.
"I control this," he reminded her.
He warmed her skin with light slaps, peppering them down on her ass with precise, efficient movements. Laura did her best not to move; she couldn't resist whimpering, though.
Bill seemed to enjoy the sounds she was making. He encouraged her with quiet, gruff words and a firm hand.
As the force behind his hand increased, the volume of Laura's voice increased, too.
She yelped and whined but she never moved. Her legs were trembling and her hands were digging into the arms of the chair, but she never moved form her position because he wanted her to stay there.
The blows were coming down harder. Their rhythm was harder to predict so Laura could never gather herself to prepare for the next one---but she liked it better that way.
Her body was tense and on edge. It felt as if pressure was building inside of her, curling or folding in on itself until there was no more room for it to go. Thoughts were swirling inside her mind---too much, not enough, the price of absolution, the relief of finding someone who knew what's needed---and she couldn't sort through them quickly enough.
She pushed back into Bill's hand, she dug her nails into the chair, and she mewled and howled until her throat was sore; she did everything she could think of to try to relieve the pressure.
Had she been in clearer state of mind, she would have reminded herself that the pressure could only be relieved on its own. But, in her present position, she couldn't think past the man behind her and the hands on her skin.
And when Bill praised her, crooning gruffly, Laura heard what she needed to hear and the pressure began to build in a way she had never experienced before---not with her professor of Historical & Philosophical Foundations of Caprican Education, not with Richard. This was a reaction that Bill seemed to possess or extract from her. She couldn't stop it (but she didn't want to, either).
She cried out and pushed back into his hands, arching her back in the process. There was nothing but Bill behind her and the response she was having to his ministrations; nothing else mattered to her except for the peace she was approaching.
The frenzy passed slowly, ebbing away and leaving her in that still, quiet place in her mindset that she hadn't visited in so long.
She could feel her muscles' spasms. She could feel her throat's rawness when she swallowed, when her deep, panting breaths allowed her to do so. She could feel her tears on her cheeks.
But, through all of that, she could feel peace. Sweet peace and quiet where politics and cylons and cancer didn't exist.
"Frak," Bill whispered.
He sounded awed. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at him. He had a silly smile on his face (an expression she had never seen in its purest form, she realised in that moment) when he looked back at her.
"I've never seen any woman... do that," he explained.
"I've never done that before, sir," she admitted, smirking at him.
Bill moved his fingers over her pink skin and then between her legs. He explored the evidence of her climax (tightening muscles, fluids, and a pulse that never seemed to regulate or slow down). He made quiet noises of approval which only increased the internal peace she was feeling.
His fingers were replaced by his erection. A quick glance over her shoulder told Laura that he was still dressed. His pants appeared to be hanging on around his knees. An eager expression had taken residence in his eyes.
He slid inside of her inch by inch until she was whimpering again. There was no desperation the second time. She just felt him, taking more of what he needed, and they way they interlocked despite their opposites (atheist and believer, male and female, top and bottom).
Each thrust of his hips rocked her forward into the chair and onto her toes. Her breath hitched each time he was up against her body; his body's hairs and warmth only inflamed her abused flesh but his thick presence on the inside and his hands on the outside (and elsewhere) soothed her.
"Sir, please---I---"
She heard herself begging again. It wasn't for the emotional release or for the escape from her life outside of Bill's quarters. It was for the pleasure she was being given as he took his pleasure from her. It was for the different sort of climax that she knew would come when they both surrendered.
Bill's groans grew louder. She never heard him utter her name (but he stopped calling her 'woman'). He'd praise her, curse the gods, or he'd resort to nearly senseless mutterings that almost affected her as much as his hands did.
His hands were roaming her body, possessing her as much as they could. One stroked her side before settling on her hip; the other slid along her spine until it reached her neck.
Laura whimpered when he squeezed. It was the right move; it reminded her of who she was (in that moment) and what they were doing.
He fell silent a moment before his hips tightened, before she realised he had reached climax. Laura heard a low moan above her and she smiled to herself.
She felt his release inside of her, adding to the (sticky, slippery, but worthwhile) mess a moment after his hand on her neck tightened.
She expected him to pull out of her body and end things there. He didn't. He remained inside of her; the hand that was on her hip moved around to meet where they were joined.
"Sir---"
"Shhh," he whispered, interrupting her. "I'm still in charge."
Laura shuddered. His fingers found her sensitive nerves and he rubbed steady circles over them until she was moaning and trembling underneath him again.
He worked her over without mercy. His thumb slipped past her curls, sliding in her juices, and it worked slow circles over the swollen nub he found there. He wasn't hard inside of her anymore; but, he was thick and heavy in there and that helped her along.
She climaxed on a low, long moan. Her knees gave out but Bill caught her. He wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He murmured quiet, sweet words until she felt steadier.
Bill pulled out of her body after she was standing on her own. He gathered her up in his arms; he guided her over to his rack and settled her down on the mattress.
"Sir---"
"Shhh," he whispered.
He disappeared for a minute. She heard him rummaging around his quarters but the sounds weren't really processed. She couldn't put an explanation to what she was hearing.
Bill returned carrying a few items that he set down on the bedside table. Laura noticed that he had finally undressed. She allowed her gaze to roam over his body (he wasn't perfectly sculpted, but she never thought too much of perfection in that regard, anyway). Then, she smiled at him briefly before closing her eyes, giving him the freedom to do whatever he wished to do.
He spread her legs wider and then settled down between them. He reached for something. A moment later he was wiping her down with great care.
Laura sighed appreciatively.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
"Turn over," he murmured.
She didn't move until he moved. She settled on her front and felt the pain from the hairpins on her nipples but it was only a distant annoyance (but not really an annoyance, more like a reminder).
Bill rubbed some sort of lotion or cream into her previously-abused flesh. Laura moaned, trying to wordlessly tell him how grateful she felt for his care.
He chuckled and kissed down her spine as he worked the salve into her skin.
"Turn over," he said again.
She obeyed lazily. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him.
Bill straddled her thighs and carefully leaned forward. His fingers brushed over her breasts. She flinched---not away from but into the touch.
"Minx," he growled.
She laughed breathlessly.
He shifted, adjusting his position carefully so he wouldn't jostle her, and then he leaned down more.
"I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time," he whispered.
Without giving her a moment to contemplate what he wanted, he dropped his head down and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss started out slowly, but it blossomed into something that was deep and messy (and oh so good).
And that was when he reached down between them and removed the hairpins from her nipples.
Laura cried out so loudly that Bill couldn't smother all of the sound with his kiss. The relief of pain combined with such a delicious activity sent her spiraling into another storm of desire.
Even without another surprise orgasm, Laura thought the outpouring of sensation would have been perfect (she wasn't complaining, though). The longing had been building through the kiss, but releasing her tender skin from their metal captors sent a fresh wave of electricity through her body.
Her throat protested when she cried out (loudly, sharply), but she didn't care. She thought achieving release (both sexual and emotional) at his hand would have been all she could handle.
She was wrong; her body rode out the waves of pleasure that flowed through her and it handled those effects, too.
When the storm faded, she was left warm, sated, and so relaxed that she couldn't imagine anything bothering her in the near future.
"Oh... gods," she whispered, her voice cracking even at that low volume.
She opened her eyes and found that her lashes were wet again. She blushed as she looked up into Bill's face.
"Beautiful," he whispered, smiling at her.
"I... sir, I don't know what to say---"
He eased off of her and gathered her into his arms. "Game's over now," he said once she was settled against him, "don't you think?"
Laura nodded, a smile curving her lips. She tucked her face into his neck and shoulder. She inhaled slowly, deeply, and as she exhaled she began the mental climb out of her submissive state of mind.
"How are you feeling, Laura?" he asked in a quiet, concerned voice.
"So much better," she murmured. Her arms snaked out and wrapped themselves around his torso. "Thank you, Bill."
"I should thank you, too," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you for trusting me."
Laura giggled into his skin. She laughed because she felt weightless, only secured to the mattress by his arms, and because she hadn't felt that good in such a long time.
"What?" he asked.
"I just... I feel good. It's... the rush, the release..."
"You just needed it," he reminded her. "If there's a next time, I doubt I'll be able to---"
"Oh, no, you don't," she interrupted, lifting her head. She pressed her lips to his and stole a quick kiss. "Some of it was that I needed it. Some of it was that... you just read me so well. I fully expect fireworks again---if there's a next time."
Bill grunted. "Well, I certainly feel pressure now," he commented.
"Good."
"You're a demanding woman, you know that?"
She smiled. "The best bottoms are demanding, don't you think?" she purred.
"Well, I think you're the best I ever had," he admitted before kissing her again. "Will ever have," he amended.
"When I leave in an hour---"
He sighed. "Don't bring me down. I'll go back to being the Admiral and you'll go back to being a presidential pain in my ass."
"Until I want you to be a pain in my ass, again," she whispered before a big yawn that cracked her jaw.
His chuckle made her smile. Then, she giggled softly.
When Bill prompted her, she said, "I never would've expected this from you." She paused and then laughed again. "Honestly... how on Kobol---"
He silenced her with a quick (but firm) kiss. "I'm just smart," he told her, smiling smugly.
"Oh, yeah? And what am I?" Laura demanded in a playfully irritated tone of voice.
"Amazing."
Laura blushed. "Oh. Well... fine, then," she murmured.
Bill guided her to him, pillowing her head on his shoulder, and then he put his hands on her back. She yielded easily---not because she was still feeling the need to submit, but because she didn't think she had ever felt so at peace before.
"I'll wake you when it's time to catch your shuttle," he whispered.
His words (and her unspoken response of "How did he know I want to sleep now?") were the last things her mind registered before she fell asleep.
TBC... I think.