BSG Fic: Playing for Keeps (A/R)

[38gnihsurc]

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: See part one


PART TWO

"Where on earth did he find---"

Laura broke off and put a hand to her mouth to stifle a little laugh as she looked at the items on the desk in front of her.

Her hand was useless against the excited sound. It bubbled out until she was slumped in Bill's chair; she laughed until she could barely breathe.

The past few days had been a mild form of torture for everyone in the fleet. Alternating between Condition One and Condition Two (over and over and over again) for three days was hard on everyone---not as hard as the thirty-three minute cycles had once been, but difficult enough to still cause problems throughout the fleet.

Once the threat (damned frakking cylons, ruining her plans... taking away time that could be better spent in more recreational ways, or bemoaning the lack of recreational ways) had been satisfactorily handled, they had been so thrilled that cheers had erupted throughout Galactica.

Bill and Saul had embraced, bodies weighed down with relief, and then when they parted, Bill turned to her and grinned.

Once official niceties had been dealt with, Bill had sidled up to her on the pretense of looking at the DRADIS monitor to confirm it all again.

"Go to my chambers, now," he growled quietly. He paused and smiled at someone (Laura could not have remembered the young officer's name after she heard that tone in Bill's voice, even if a gun was pointed to her head) before returning his focus to (her and) the monitor. "Go in, leave the hatch unlocked, and put on what's on my desk," he ordered. "If you want to shower or wash first, feel free. But, I want you sitting in our chair in thirty minutes, ready to go."

"Bill---"

She stopped talking when he looked away from the overhead screen and glared at her.

His stern look melted when she fell silent.

"We need to celebrate, too," he whispered. He hesitated a moment and then added, "If you want to."

Laura smiled. She leaned in as close as she could without arousing suspicion and murmured, "I definitely want to, sir."

She had said 'sir' deliberately and when she walked past him, she let her fingers brush his discretely. Bill growled under his breath. The sound seemed to have turned her knees to jelly.

The walk to the corridor was difficult. She felt as unsteady as a newborn filly.

She regained some of her equilibrium on the short walk to Bill's home aboard the ship. In her mind, she made a mental list of the things she would need to do in her thirty minutes. The items included everything from showering and shaving to telling Tory to issue a statement instead of holding a press conference since she would remain aboard Galactica for at least a few hours.

Laura prayed there would be no political or military emergency to interrupt them. She wanted to unwind. She wanted to celebrate. And she wanted to help Bill achieve those goals, too, since he shouldered much of the responsibility through their recent crisis.

That was why she was sitting at Bill's desk, clad in nothing but a towel and some water droplets. She looked at the garments he had (somehow) procured for her and she laughed again.

Stockings---real, thigh-high stockings---had been on top of the pile. Laura had had several pairs of them before the destruction of Caprica but she lost them to the disaster. She hadn't been planning anything remotely recreational when she had attended the decommissioning ceremony so she hadn't brought any of them with her. She forgot what it felt like to have such fine, delicate threads against her skin and she smiled as she brushed her fingers over them.

There were panties. They were made of soft, black fabric---and felt like something that had once been (or only could have been) an athletic shirt because of their stretchy quality---but there was a band of lace around the waist.

The last item was the icing on the metaphorical cake. Laura had no idea where Bill found it, but she was thrilled to have a chance to wear something like it.

The corset was black with little red ribbons and laces. There was boning (although Laura doubted it was actual boning and assumed it was some sort of metal or plastic) and a set of push-up cups to enhance her bust.

After the initial shock wore off, she figured he had delved into the black market or found a seamstress somewhere in the fleet.

But, whatever he did, it was worth it.

They were going to have a real celebration.

With three minutes left on the clock, Laura was settling down in the arm chair that had been the scene of their first session together. Everything fit perfectly (much to her surprise and lack of surprise, all at the same time) so she couldn't even make fidgety adjustments as she waited.

She counted down while impatiently tapping her fingers against the arms of the chair. When the remaining time had passed, without Bill appearing, she wondered if she could stand to march out there and look for him, in her current state of attire.

Knowing it wouldn't do to have rumours (or, rather, truths with embellished details) flying around the ship about her relationship with the Admiral, she resigned herself to remaining in her chair.

But, Bill strode into the room another five minutes later, so she didn't have to wait much longer.

Laura smiled at him when he came in and saw her sitting down, legs crossed at the knee and hands resting comfortably on her stomach.

Bill smiled back at her.

"I found some new toys over the past couple of weeks," he said conversationally as he unbuttoned his uniform jacket and locked the hatch. "I had to get creative, but I think there's enough to keep us occupied for a while."

"New toys, sir?" she echoed, curiosity getting the better of her. The lingerie was one thing, but the thought of having more than hairpins was something else altogether.

(Not that he'd need props to dominate her. She had no doubt in her mind that his body and personality would be enough.)

He smirked and nodded. "I'll pull them out later," he told her. His eyes roamed over her appearance, deliberately, and then he said: "You look beautiful."

"Thank you... and for the gifts, too, sir," she murmured.

His smile softened and she realised that he had been thinking about her (and them) a lot in order to put together such gifts. She had been thinking about him (and them), too, but she had nothing to show for her thoughts except her presence in his quarters. He had done more and gone out of his way with all the stress and responsibility of his job bearing down upon him; those facts touched her more than she wanted them to.

He wanted her. He wasn't looking for a quick game or frak. He was thinking long term.

He wanted permanence with her. It hadn't been a lie (not that she ever thought it was one, but the confirmation really felt like a revelation).

She knew she should have bolted---she didn't feel cut out for permanence and sharing and actual, honest emotions---but she couldn't have left him before their celebration. They both needed some time alone and together. They earned a respite.

"Will you get me a drink while I freshen up?"

Laura blinked. (It was a question, not an order.)

Still, she nodded and rose to her feet as gracefully as she could manage. Bill walked past her, his hand brushing her hip as they parted, and walked into the head.

She hesitated, sucked in a deep breath, and then walked to the ledge where his few bottles were resting. She poured him a glass and then stole a mouthful of the potent drink from the bottle for herself.

When she found him, he was in his tanks and trousers, patting his face dry with a towel.

"Here, sir," she murmured, offering him the glass.

"Thank you," he replied quietly. He rewarded her with a kiss to her cheek as he took the glass from her hand.

The moment was so domestic that Laura found herself wondering if that would be how their life would be, if she accepted his offer. Would she be home at the end of the night, ready to take care of him? Would he take care of her in exchange? Would they be happy together?

"So, if you're amenable to the idea," he said, after a few sips of his stiff drink, "I'd like to add another rule."

"I'd like to hear the rule first, sir," she told him honestly.

Bill smiled. "Fair enough," he conceded. He drank from his glass again. After swallowing, he said: "I think we should leave our jobs outside. We did a good job today... and we're celebrating, but I think we should leave it at that."

Laura relaxed, resting her hip against the sink. She smiled. "That sounds like a good idea, sir," she murmured. "This will be our safe place, then?"

"As long as we can keep it that way, yes," he told her. "I know we'll have to reevaluate the rule if things change between us but for now, yes."

She grinned. "I couldn't think about work, last time, anyway. Even if I tried."

Bill grinned back at her.

"Good, me neither, but I thought it should be said all the same." He leaned back against the wall and tilted his head. "You look gorgeous. Really."

She felt like a schoolgirl. A nervous, giddy schoolgirl. They had already been together. He'd seen her cry, heard her scream; he'd touched and tasted nearly every inch of her body. But, with one look and a sincere compliment, she was reduced to a woman with less than half of her experience and confidence.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered.

"Don't be shy," he said gruffly. He pushed off from the wall and closed in on her so their bodies were touching. "You are an amazing woman."

"Well, I don't feel it most days, sir," she admitted. "Especially these last few."

"Well," he shot back, his voice a rough drawl, "my opinion's the only one that counts right now, isn't it?"

She blushed and nodded. She knew she should have controlled her thoughts before he walked through the hatch, but she had been distracted by the gifts waiting for her. She knew she should have been ready to surrender; however when he gave her such a compliment, she had been caught off-guard by the sincerity in his voice.

(Laura was getting into trouble. Bill seemed to be encouraging it.)

"What do you want out of today?" he asked.

"I definitely want to see the dungeon you've been putting together," she said in a teasing tone of voice.

Bill smiled. "Too bad we don't actually have a spare compartment to devote to such a place."

"Too bad," she agreed, nodding.

"So, apart from seeing what I've gathered and constructed," he said, prompting her for more information, "what do you want to have happen?"

Laura shrugged. She really didn't know what she wanted---except that she knew she wanted to be there, with him for what they both craved. The first time, it was about finally feeling something that broke through her defenses and left her feeling lighter. It was about him helping her; it was about her giving him something that he, too, needed.

She didn't feel as if she needed to be punished for anything (except maybe for snapping in exhausted frustration at a couple people who didn't deserve it---and one person who, honestly, did). She didn't feel numb; she didn't want him to break through that ice because there wasn't anything frozen around her, blocking her from the outside world.

She was just there, because she wanted to be. She wasn't settling or waiting for a better offer. She wanted to be there, with him, because he understood her.

They understood each other.

They trusted each other.

She looked into his blue eyes and she couldn't help but feel that he was thinking similar things. His gaze was calm---maddeningly so---as he patiently waited for her to say something, to answer his question.

He didn't push her. He waited.

"I want... to see how far I can... go," she said quietly. "I... I want to see how far you can take me."

Responding to his question made her shiver. Once she figured out her answer and gave it a voice, its truth trembled through her.

He smiled.

"How much time do we have?" he inquired.

"I told Tory to stay on Colonial One and to issue a press statement in my absence," she replied. "And I told her I'd stay aboard Galactica for at least a few hours... sir."

Bill groaned quietly.

He leaned in and kissed her jaw---to tease or to reward, she wasn't sure.

"The President, playing hooky? Not very professional," he said in a teasing tone. "She must not have been very impressed with you."

"Mmmno," Laura whispered back. "I could hear it in her voice. I'm a big disappointment."

He put a hand up to cup her face. "Well, you don't disappoint me," he assured her.

She smiled and closed her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "Thank you, sir," she whispered.

"Shall we go into the other room?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Laura murmured.

She waited until he made the first move and then she followed (it felt good to follow, instead of leading) him. He walked purposefully into the main room, not hesitating until they were standing in front of the chair in which he found her that evening.

"So, you want to see how far I can push you?" he asked. "You want to find out how much you can take?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"More than the first time?"

She nodded again.

The first time had been a time of a lot of firsts: the first time she climaxed in reaction to pain, the first time she didn't even think about using a prophylactic during sex, the first time she completely gave her trust to a dominant, and the first time she felt like she had been the submissive and not just playing one.

It had all been a lot to experience---almost too much. She wasn't sure how much more she could handle, but she knew that Bill would take care of her.

Bill drained his glass, wincing at what must have been the burn of alcohol, and before Laura became aware of what she was doing, she had taken the glass from his hands.

She realised what she was doing when she was picking up the bottle.

She smothered a laugh and replenished his drink before bringing it back to him.

He was grinning at her. His head was tilted to the side and one of his eyebrows was arched. He was silently asking her a question ("Have you already made up your mind?") but she wasn't going to answer.

It wasn't that she didn't find the idea appealing. She found it very appealing. If she belonged to Bill in private, she would have a time and a place where she would stop being in charge. She could stop being the President of What Remained of the Twelve Colonies.

But, the idea terrified her as much as it appealed to her.

Laura smiled and shrugged (trying to tell him "Please don't push me before our second night's over," and hoping he received the message). She put the curved glass into his hands and leaned in to kiss him before settling back on her stocking-clad heels.

Bill moved away from her. He went to his desk and fetched a few reports that he had been given; then, he returned to the chair and sat down with his drink and his reading material.

"Sit," he instructed her.

He glanced at the floor, to give her the rest of his instructions. Laura nodded and knelt at his feet.

The scene was slow to start... or just different. Laura wasn't sure what was going on in Bill's mind (because she assumed a celebration would be exciting and, well, celebratory).

He sat and read as she watched him; he seemed content with that.

After a few minutes, Laura leaned in and rested her head on his thigh. She fanned her hair out over his knees and looked up at him through her lashes.

He didn't look at her, but Laura was sure that she detected the trace of a smile in his mouth and eyes.

She found it easy to relax in that position. Her professional worries were on the other side of the hatch and with each deep breath she inhaled and exhaled, she felt more like the submissive she wanted to be.

Bill's hand eventually came to rest at the back of her head, cradling it as his fingers threaded through her hair. She closed her eyes (and committed the moment to memory, because if she couldn't be his forever she wanted to remember what it could feel like). She felt his approval, their contentment, and her certainty that she was safe there---and even though she wasn't comfortable with the idea of a lasting relationship, she was beginning to see the merits of such a bond.

("I want to see how far you can take me.")

As she replayed her request in her mind, she realised that he was taking her as far as he could in one particular area. She was sure he'd test her in more physical ways later; but, in that moment, he was showing her what else could be in store for her if she agreed to be his.

He was showing her that she could belong with him (and to him).

Laura ignored the frightened voice in her head (because it was telling her to leave as quickly as she could) and rubbed her cheek against his thigh.

She didn't expect a reaction from Bill. She hadn't displayed affection towards him for a reaction. She had done it because it was an instinctual impulse, because it was the only thing she could think to do.

For the first time in a long while, her brain wasn't actively running through lists and facts (schedules, meeting minutes, fact reports, dossiers on Quorum members and other prominent fleet members) or analysing situations.

She was just Laura, just there with Bill, and she (was almost surprised that she) liked it that way.

But, Bill's patience wasn't to be tested for much longer. Laura was pleased to feel him tugging on her hair to get her attention (even though he knew that he already had it). She looked up at him, a smile curving her lips as she waited for instruction.

"Kneel between my legs," he told her.

They moved together. Laura scooted away as Bill parted his knees; she crawled toward him as he set down his report and glass. He wasn't pretending to be focused elsewhere; he was focusing on her and letting her know it was upon her his attention was placed.

"I want to feel your mouth on my cock."

His low voice sent a shiver through her body but she didn't want to yield completely yet. She felt lighter, after all, and she wanted to play. She wanted him to play with her. So, instead of following his orders by first opening his pants and then doing what he wanted her to do, she followed his orders by doing exactly what he told her to do.

Laura scooted forward, her knees pressing into the rough carpet and her stockings slipping a bit; she put her hands on Bill's thighs, guiding them apart. Then, she lowered her head and opened her mouth around the slight bulge that was developing inside his pants.

Bill chuckled and put his hand into her hair again. He tightened his grip on her reddish tresses and pulled her back.

"Properly, woman," he growled.

Laura hid her smirk behind her hair and shadows. She reached up with her hands and worked her fingers over his belt. She slipped the latch and pulled the leather apart; once it was opened, she went to work on his pants. The button and zipper gave way easily enough.

Bill didn't move (but she didn't expect him to) so she parted the fabric as best as she could and then slipped a hand into his briefs.

He was still just as thick and heavy has he had been the first time they were together.

His grip on her hair loosened as she leaned in and took the head of him in her mouth. He wasn't fully hard yet so she guided him to her gently with her hands. Her tongue flattened under the weight of him; her throat tightened once it was being breached. She didn't stop, though, until as much of his flesh as possible was in her mouth.

A quiet groan escaped Bill's lips. Laura hummed softly in response.

She pushed up on her knees. He pulled her down more, sheathing himself completely in her.

Laura gagged. He didn't release her (and she didn't expect him to, either... not really) so she closed her eyes and forced her throat to relax to breathe around him.

The lack of warning triggered a little bit of panic and both had set her heart's rate at a higher speed. The feel and scent of Bill in and around her counteracted the panic but didn't slow her pulse. She felt trapped but, really, she wanted to be there.

Bill's control wasn't without limit but Laura was still impressed with how he held it together. He guided her head up and down with a series of tugs and pushes; he sighed and groaned as she sucked in her cheeks and wiggled her tongue against him. But, he never took too much from her. He never pushed her beyond what she could manage.

She peeked up and watched him as she worked. He had taken his glasses off; his head was tipped back and his eyes were closed; his mouth had slackened. She smiled inwardly and slowly slid her hands up his thighs.

He groaned again.

When she cupped the base of him in her hands, he growled and thrust up his hips. She gagged again, but she didn't stop (because he was in charge and because she was enjoying herself more than she thought she would). She continued to use her mouth and hands in the way he encouraged her and she didn't finish until he tugged sharply on her hair.

Laura opened her mouth and slowly backed off. Bill's eyes darkened at the sight (and Laura was glad for that, but she didn't understand what exactly was so appealing about the image) and once he tucked himself back into his pants (with difficulty, she was pleased to note) he hauled her up off of the ground (pulling her by her shoulders and not her hair) and into his lap.

He kissed her---as a reward, she guessed---and as the kiss deepened she wondered if he could taste himself on her lips and tongue. She wondered if it would disturb or bother him. She'd been with men who had been bothered by the change in flavour and while it didn't kill the mood, it didn't improve upon it either.

After a few minutes, it became obvious that he had no problem whatsoever with the way she tasted, since he was kissing her so intensely that she was having trouble catching her breath.

He caught her wrists in his hands and moved them behind her back as they continued to kiss. She purred once she was held firmly in place with one of his hands; she always felt better when he was holding her securely, even if the angles were awkward to maintain through her shoulders and elbows.

They kissed until she could barely string two coherent thoughts together. A moment later, she suspected that her mental incoherence was his goal all along because she heard and felt metal clicking into place around her wrists.

Laura froze---not in fear, but in aroused disbelief.

He used military-issue handcuffs.

Bill smirked against her lips, still kissing her as if waiting for her to recover and catch up. He sucked her lower lip between his teeth while she tugged experimentally at her bonds.

She needed to test them. She needed to know how secure they were. She needed to feel how secure they were, so she'd know she wasn't under her own power anymore.

Once she knew she was caught, she realised he was still teasing her lower lip (and she began to enjoy his teasing).

His kisses varied in pressure and style. Sometimes he simply sucked on her lips and sometimes he used his teeth to bite; sometimes it hurt, but it always felt good.

He pulled back. Laura opened her eyes a bit and watched him through her eyelashes, wondering what his next order would be.

Bill didn't say anything immediately after ending their kisses. He studied her, without saying a word, for a few minutes.

Laura used the time to study him, too. Her gaze traced the top of his scar, barely peeking out over the neckline of his tanks (that has been tugged and distorted during their kisses), and then she followed his neck to his jaw, to his cheekbone, and finally to his eyes.

She held eye contact with him---but not defiantly---and she reminded herself to be careful.

She reminded herself to be careful, even though she knew the reminder was too late. She knew that she could easily spend the rest of her days and nights looking into that face; she knew she could trust him to take care of her and that he could trust her to take care of him.

Laura set aside those thoughts (because they scared her) and she decided to enjoy their private time together.

"Stand up," he told her. "Stand up in front of me."

She stood up (after gracelessly untangling her legs from his) and smiled her thanks when he caught her around his waist as she overbalanced and wavered.

Bill adjusted his position and guided her between his parted legs with his hands on her hips.

"How are your arms?" he asked.

"Fine, sir," she replied.

He nodded and reached up; his fingers landed on the front laces of the corset and made quick work of them. Laura missed the constricting garment but she didn't have time to ruminate on the loss because his fingers sought her nipples and pinched them without warning.

Bill smirked when she whimpered. He twisted his fingers and evoked a long, low moan from her throat.

He released her nipples and smoothed his hands over her breasts. He cupped them, weighed them, and then pushed them apart as he pressed a series of slow, open-mouthed kisses to the valley between them.

Laura shuddered and tried discretely arching her back, pushing her chest into his mouth. He released one of her breasts and skimmed that hand down her belly. She whimpered again and pushed into him more.

She was rewarded (or punished) with a firm slap to the back of her thigh for her effort.

"I control this, woman," he growled.

"Sorry, sir," Laura whispered.

Bill leaned up and kissed the curve of her released breast. He sucked on it; Laura watched him pull away and saw a red mark on her pale skin. She shivered (and wondered how many more marks she'd bear by the end of the night).

"Step back," he ordered.

She took one step back, out of the vee of his legs, and waited. He rose to a standing position, kissed her lips once, and moved past her.

Laura remained where she was, even though her curiousity was well-past piqued. She listened (to his rummaging around) and she tried to figure out what he was looking for. She assumed it was one of the toys he had put together, but she wasn't sure what it would be.

When she felt him approach from behind, she shivered again.

"I'm going to blindfold you."

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she murmured.

Something soft and thick went around her head, cloaking her eyes. She closed them (it was pointless to keep them open if she couldn't see) and waited for him to tie the knot.

He checked with his fingers to make sure it was secure (but not too tight) and then he walked around her. His fingers trailed over her skin, experimenting with a light touch that left her craving more.

"Do you still trust me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir... of course."

Bill kissed the side of her mouth before disappearing from her sensory range.

After a few minutes, she heard things---a glass being filled with water, a drawer opening and closing, a click, and a whoosh of air---but she didn't move.

He returned to her. He didn't touch her immediately; instead, it sounded like he was depositing a few things down on the low table first. When he finally touched her, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs.

He didn't speak when he wanted her to step out of the garment. He guided one foot up with his hands and she followed the silent command; he did the same for the other leg and then he put the fabric in her hands which were resting near the curve in her lower back.

Laura could feel the dampness of them (of her sweat and arousal) and she blushed. It was one thing to feel wet and warm, but to her, it felt altogether different to feel that evidence on her clothes in front of him. She felt embarrassed that she couldn't hide the telltale signs better.

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Bill chuckled and kissed her hip before he stood (as if to soothe her frayed feelings).

"Spread your legs," he commanded quietly.

She obeyed. The ache in her thighs burned into her calves after a few minutes standing in that way.

He moved behind her and cupped both globes of her ass in his hands. He squeezed them and parted them; he repeated the actions a few times (waiting until she grew used to the treatment) before changing the pattern.

At the first swipe of his fingers on the recently-exposed flesh, Laura yelped.

Bill kissed her shoulder and repeated the motion.

"Sir---"

"Shhh," he admonished. "Don't I always take care of you?"

She whimpered and nodded. Her legs were near trembling, her shoulders and elbows were still aching, and she wasn't sure she was comfortable with his new exploration of her body. The knowledge that he took care of her did soothe her---but only somewhat.

"Have you ever had anything back here?" he asked, punctuating the words with a press of his thumb against the puckered ring of flesh she had been hoping he'd avoid.

Laura shook her head as her face flushed.

"No one's ever claimed your ass before?"

She shook her head again.

"Gods... frak, it's all mine," he whispered, his voice taking on a little predatory growl.

"Sir---"

"Not tonight," he interrupted. "Not all the way."

Laura pressed her lips together. She trusted him, to read her and to take care of her, but there were some things that she had never really considered doing (which, she knew, was surprising given her present position) and that sort of intercourse was one of those things. Even if he promised to be careful, she knew she'd have a hard time relinquishing that boundary to him.

He removed his hand. She heard him spitting and then his wet thumb returned to that precarious position.

Laura whimpered as he eased the tip of his digit inside her. It felt strange---like an invasion and an evacuation all at once, and she didn't think she liked it. She would have protested the action but in the next instant, his other hand slid between her legs to tease against her sensitive nerves that had been tingling rather insistently up until a few moments ago.

"Oh... gods," she whispered.

It felt different when he teased both openings at the same time.

"Bear down on my thumb," he instructed in a calm voice.

"Bear---what?"

"Push against it. Open up," he explained. "Don't tighten or fight it. That makes it feel worse."

She inhaled slowly and deeply and tried to do what he was telling her to do. A brief thought flashed through her mind (about how virginal she felt despite her age and range of experience) and she giggled.

"What?"

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't be sorry," he drawled. "Just tell me what's so funny."

Laura told him. Bill chuckled and kissed her shoulder before responding.

"There's no shame in trying something new---or having something new to try," he assured her. "And I love knowing there's something we can try, together."

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she could to herself: he made the situation sound very appealing.

As she relaxed, he moved his thumb. He was pressing down on her clit with the fingers from his other hand, too, but that only accented the steady in-and-out movement behind her.

"Sir---"

"This is better with actual lube," he interrupted. "I can't remember where I stashed mine."

Laura laughed softly. Each laugh caused her muscles to tighten around him, but she didn't mind it so much anymore.

"Do you have lotion or ointment, sir?" she suggested.

"Hmm... good idea..."

He trailed off slowly, both with his voice and his hands. He drifted away from her as he thought about what she had said. Laura didn't move; she listened as he walked around her, rummaging in what sounded like a set of drawers.

"See, having you around here on a more permanent basis will be good for both of us," he said in a rather casual tone of voice as he walked towards her. "You're the big thinker. I'll put those thoughts into action."

Laura laughed again, ducking her head as her giggles shook her body.

"And, gods, it'd be nice to hear that sound more often," he added quietly.

As she shivered in reaction to his soft, gruff tone of voice, Bill's hands fell to her hips. She could feel a small, cool tube against her skin and she knew he found something that could act as a lubricant.

"The chair is two small steps in front of you," he told her. "I want you to kneel up on it. I'll help you get up there."

Laura nodded and shuffled forward. She fumbled, feeling around for the chair with her feet as she inched forward.

"I told you it was two small steps. Don't you trust me?"

She blushed. "I... oh. Yes. But I---"

Bill's hand landed on the back of her neck. He squeezed. Laura moaned as her knees buckled reflexively. She expected to fall, but her knees landed on the edge of the chair's cushion so she only wavered as she dropped.

"Trust me. I'm going to help you. When I say 'two small steps,' I mean 'two small steps.'"

Laura's next nod was jerky. "Y-yes, sir," she whispered.

Bill leaned into her. He pressed his front against her back and trapped her hands in the process. He kissed her neck before nuzzling the same spot with his nose.

"I'll have to punish you for that," he said, breathing into her ear.

She whimpered (and sounded more aroused than anxious).

"Now, get up on the cushion."

Laura sucked in a sharp breath and lifted one leg onto the chair.

Bill, true to his word, helped her. He supported her from behind, with his body, while his hands guided her legs into position (spread and bent). Kneeling on the chair wasn't as difficult as kneeling on the floor, but she sensed that he wasn't going to help make it too easy for her. His hands slid from her thighs to her ass and then over her back to her shoulders; she shivered with every stroke his fingers made against her skin.

After a while, he did apply some salve to his fingers and resume his gentle breach of her body.

Laura tilted her head forward and nibbled on her lower lip as she silently told herself to relax. She repeated the command over and over in her mind, as if it were a mantra, because the sensation was still too new to her.

By the time one finger became two fingers, though, the message was finally sinking into her central nervous system.

He had added his other hand to the mix, nestling it between her legs as he introduced her to the new activity. When he put those fingers inside her proper opening, she could feel him pressing into the fingers that were slowly stretching her tense muscles.

There was nothing but a thin layer of flesh separating the two canals and his intrusive (albeit talented) fingers and Laura knew that instead of feeling bothered, she was feeling more aroused and fascinated than she had a few minutes earlier.

"I'm going to put something in here," he said as he spread his two fingers, expanding the ring of muscle, "and then I'm gonna frak you. You'll feel it, just like you're feeling this now."

Bill wiggled his fingers, emphasising his point, just as one of his thumbs pressed down on the hidden root of her swollen bundle of nerves.

He was pushing too many of her buttons (both known and unknown) all at once.

"Sir, please---"

"Gods, I love it when you beg," he growled.

Laura whimpered and tipped her head up and back so it rested on his shoulder.

He continued manually manipulating her for a while. He listened to her whimpers and moans; he cajoled and calmed her with his words.

Later, when she was finally at the point where it didn't matter what he did to her body (as long as it didn't do serious physical harm, obviously), he eased something cold and hard inside of her body. It replaced his fingers; it slid into her easily after his preparation.

It felt strange. She missed his fingers (and she found that strange, too).

But, they were already on the move, leaving greasy trails from her thighs that would smear over her hips and abdomen before climbing to her breasts.

He pinched her nipples without warning. Laura didn't mind so much; the pain was a countermelody to the pleasure built up between her legs. She kept her head on his shoulder and felt what he wanted her to feel.

She felt too exposed, a little too full in unfamiliar places, tender, sore, and aroused because he wanted her to feel those things. She moaned, whined, huffed, and sighed, all the while pressing her fingertips back into his belly. All she could do was react to what he was doing to her---and that seemed to be alright with him.

Bill continued to torment her until just before she tumbled into an orgasm. He seemed to know exactly when she was hovering on the precipice; he stopped what he was doing and put his hands on her hips to steady her as she grunted in frustration.

"Not until I say so," he reminded her, his voice sounding too amused or too pleased with himself for her liking. "You're not in control of this."

It had already been made very clear to her (somewhere between their first session and the handcuffs presently binding her wrists), but she liked to hear him remind her of that particular fact. It reminded her to stop worrying and overanalysing. It grounded her.

He didn't waste much time before moving onto other things he had planned for them.

The stiff restraint around her neck was her third big surprise of the night. It was some sort of collar, guessing by the way she was strapped into it. She didn't ask any questions; she waited for Bill to finish securing the device and then she experimentally moved her neck and shoulders to test her new range of motion.

She didn't have much room to move.

"Doc Cottle's gonna be pissed at me," he murmured into her hair, after placing a kiss behind her ear. "I raided his supplies' closet---"

"You what?!" she yelped.

"That's going to be more punishment," he said in a warning tone of voice.

He kissed her shoulder once she fell silent. "I snuck into his supplies' closet and took some things he had stored away," he explained. "A neck brace and some other... things."

"You're going to put them back, right? ...Sir?"

Bill laughed into her skin. "Yes, woman, I'll put them back," he muttered under his breath. "Gods, you're a handful."

Laura smiled. She tried to duck her head but the brace prevented her from moving her neck in that way---and in most other ways, too.

She imagined she looked ridiculous---blindfolded, wearing a neck brace, hands cuffed behind her back, kneeling on the Admiral's armchair while an unknown something protruded from her ass---but the thought was fleeting as something cool and hard latched around one of her nipples.

The sucking sensation that was accompanied by quiet puffs of air wasn't warm and wet like Bill's mouth. It was unyielding and dry, and it felt as if it was stretching and pulling on her flesh.

She winced when it became too much---shortly after a second one was attached to her other breast. She couldn't do much else. She tried to move away from the pressure but it was difficult when she couldn't move her neck and arms.

She had no idea what it was. She guessed it was from the medical supply closet. (But, there was a vaguely familiar mechanical sound that had her wondering if it was from the hanger deck.)

Whatever it was, it was really good at its job.

Bill's hand cupped her sex from behind. His fingers rubbed themselves through her curls before they dipped along her slippery skin.

There was another puff of air and more pressure pulling on her skin, just as his index finger slipped inside her body.

Laura twitched in response (rather awkwardly, she thought).

Bill brought his knee up to rest on the chair's cushion. At first, she had a fleeting thought that he was being affectionate and seeking more contact with her. After she felt his leg move up, bumping whatever was still inside her, she decided he was being nothing more than devious.

She was uncomfortable, aroused, and in pain.

Judging from the curved lips pressed against her shoulder, he enjoyed her in that state.

"Do you want release, woman?" he asked quietly.

Arousal beat out pain as she tried to nod. Frustration beat out arousal as the neck brace held her head high and firmly in place.

"Well?"

"Y-yes, sir," she whispered.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

(Oh gods, what a loaded question.)

Laura whined wordlessly as she pondered if she actually deserved release. She wore what he told her to wear. She brought him a drink. She followed (most) of his orders. He did promise to punish her---for not trusting him to guide her---though, and she thought that counted against the good she had done.

"Please, sir," she whispered. "I promise to be good---"

Bill chuckled. "Until you decide to torment me some more, hmm?" he inquired.

There was another puff of air and the pressure on her nipples intensified. She had to remind herself that she should not move, no matter how strong the pressure became; luckily for her, the impulse to cringe was prevented by the restrained position in which she had been placed.

"I can't help it," she admitted.

"Gods, don't I know it," he murmured in agreement.

He pumped her slick channel with his fingers---just enough times to make her forget the pain and focus on the pleasure he was allowing her to feel---and then he pulled his hand away to bring it down sharply on her ass with a slap that seemed to echo inside her head.

Laura didn't cry out; instead, she ended up biting her lip and trying to duck her head.

Bill didn't spank her again. He rubbed the warm skin with his fingers. He kneaded it. He leaned down and kissed it. Then, he put his hands on her hips and caressed her sides as he stood again.

He cupped her breasts. He tugged at whatever devices were holding her nipples as hostages and he chuckled when she jerked against his body.

There was a long, low hiss and the pressure began to fade. Her skin still felt puffy; it felt as if it were tingling, too.

The unyielding tubes fell away from her body. Bill stepped back and took the merciless toy away. She heard him place it on the nearby low table before he returned to her.

"Step down," he whispered.

Having learned her lesson the first time, Laura inhaled deeply and eased one foot down and then the other. She followed his lead when he turned her; she didn't move when he didn't guide or instruct her.

Although, when Bill's fingers brushed one of her nipples, she certainly felt like moving.

She actually felt like ducking or twisting away, but she knew that would only result in more punishment for her.

Bill's mouth enveloped one of the very tender buds. Laura hissed. He laved it with his tongue, making a point (she was sure), and then he released it so he could kiss her lips.

"You should see them," he whispered, his mouth hovering an inch or so from hers. "They're so swollen."

Laura whimpered and tried to lean forward for another kiss---something to soothe the pain.

He gave her one more (but very brief) kiss and then he stepped to her side.

"Walk a straight line, until I tell you to stop."

Laura nearly moaned (in frustration or anxiety, she wasn't sure which). She was afraid of falling without her hands to help her land; she knew Bill would do everything he could to protect her from serious harm, but she couldn't help but remind herself that she wasn't as young as she used to be and that she might not bounce back from a fall.

The stockings rubbed together as she walked in what she hoped was a straight line. She concentrated on the sensation because if she concentrated on keeping her balance it became much harder to maintain.

"Stop there."

Bill came up behind her. She felt his hands on hers. He pulled the scrunched, black fabric from her hands and let it drop to the floor. Then, she heard a click as he released her wrists.

He moved and rubbed her arms slowly, massaging the strained muscles and tendons until they barely ached. Laura sighed and tilted her head towards where she thought Bill was standing.

His massage ended at her hands. He pressed his thumbs into her palm before pushing them to her knuckles. He rubbed the muscles in each finger, even though it wasn't necessary. Laura didn't protest. She soaked in the affection, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Bill kissed her fingertips, knuckles, and palms. Laura sighed and smiled more.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered.

He replied by kissing her lips.

When he pulled back, he guided her forward until her knees hit the mattress of his rack.

His fingers made quick work of the brace on her neck. She experimentally rolled her neck from one side to the other, stretching the stiff, tense muscles.

"Wait there," he instructed.

She heard some rustling. She guessed he was pulling the blankets back, but she couldn't feel anything brushing her legs, so she wasn't sure exactly what he was doing.

After a few seconds, though, she was positioned onto the bed and she learned what he had done.

The pillows propped up her hips. They also put an unexpectedly delicious amount of pressure on whatever he had used to fill her ass. She whimpered and tilted her head, rubbing her on the bedding for more sensation; she blushed when Bill chuckled.

He was unfastening his pants when he laughed quietly. She heard the garment fall to the floor; something in his pocket jingled upon impact. She heard him tug off his tanks and let those drop, too. Then, she felt him kneeling on the bed.

Bill's hands skimmed her legs. Without conscious decision, Laura let her knees part so she could expose herself to him.

He let out a low whistle.

"Do you know how unbelievably sexy you look right now?" he asked quietly.

Laura shook her head.

"Gods, woman," he breathed. "You always look good... but right now..."

A small giggle escaped her lips in reaction to the tone in his voice. For a moment, she felt young and gorgeous.

She only longed for her sight, so she could see him.

Bill stretched one of her legs up against his chest as he inched closer to her. She felt his erection pressing against her slippery opening and she tensed her hips in anticipation of the first stroke.

"If you cum before I give you permission, your punishment will be double."

She nodded.

However, she hadn't realised how difficult that order would be to uphold in her state.

Bill entered her in one strong, fluid stroke. He filled her completely, nudging the end of her channelwhile pushing against what else was inside of her. Her leg's position, up against his chest, allowed him maximum penetration; the so-called toy, inside her other orifice, moved and rubbed against nerves she hadn't known she possessed.

He set up a steady rhythm with his hips before he used his hand to wriggle the toy in counterpoint. Laura whimpered and gripped the bedding with her hands.

She went from feeling full, to almost empty, with varying degrees in between, and she couldn't control her body's reactions to the sensations very well.

She thought about anything she could think of---the scratchiness of the blankets, the squeak in the mattress, and the clicking of the clock's gears, as well as the plot in the last book she had been reading and some of the fleet gossip she had heard---but with every thrust he made she was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on keeping her reactions in check.

It was a selfish frakking. She didn't mind, though. Bill was taking what he wanted from her---because, in those moments, she belonged to him. She knew he'd eventually give her what she needed (and hopefully some of what she wanted, too), but first, she was supposed to provide him with what he needed and wanted.

However, it wasn't easy to lie still and allow him to take what he desired. The sensations were tying her abdomen in knots and there was a delicious pressure building in her nerves that was begging for a release. She bit her lower lip and struggled to keep the threatening explosion at bay.

Bill's pace increased. He grunted in exertion. She imagined that sweat was beading on his forehead and upper lip, and that his hair was tumbling into his eyes and sticking to that sweaty skin.

Laura wished she could see him. At the same time, she was glad she didn't have any more stimulation because she could barely handle all that she was getting.

After a few more minutes, Bill stilled. She felt him twitch inside of her before there was more warm wetness; she blushed at the intimacy of the action.

The first time, she hadn't thought about it until well after the moment had passed (not until she was back on Colonial One, to be honest). But, in that moment, it was nearly all she could think about.

No one else ever had this much freedom with or access to her. No one else ever would, she guessed. Even if they didn't work out, even if she couldn't bring herself to declare permanence between them, she knew no one would ever be able to give and take the liberties that Bill did.

When he pulled out of her body, making a tiny slurp noise in the process, she moaned a wordless complaint. Her body was still tingling and begging for release; she wanted him to not be finished.

"Hands and knees," he ordered, his voice softer than before. "Clean me."

She fumbled, feeling her way to him once she rolled over and turned around. She could smell him (no, them) on his skin and used that as a beacon to follow as she found what he wanted her to find.

His cock was slippery (a little slimy) and soft (but still heavy) and she slowly worked her tongue and lips over him until it was just her mouth's moisture on his skin. The taste wasn't necessarily a turn-on, but it wasn't a turn off, either.

When she finished, though, she was pulled up onto her knees and kissed until she was desperate for breath.

And that was most definitely a turn on.

His first spank to her ass made her pull back and squeal. Bill grunted and used his other hand to tug her back to him for more kisses.

Each following slap caused her to twist, moan, and whimper. Each sound was smothered by his kisses. When she moved, her overly-sensitive breasts rubbed against his chest and caused new sensations to ripple through her body.

She was caught between a rock and a hard place. She didn't think she wanted to leave.

The spanking continued. He wasn't gifting her with the full power of his arm (because the position was awkward for that) but it didn't matter. He seemed to know the right places to hit and avoid---which were too sensitive, which had been abused too much already, which could handle just a little bit more---and he also seemed to delight in every twist and whimper of her reactions.

"Please, sir," she mumbled between kisses.

Bill chuckled. "Do you want some more?"

"I need more," she whispered.

"You'll get it," he promised. "Lie face down with the pillows under your hips."

Laura obeyed, falling once as she tried to twist too soon and overbalanced. Bill helped her into position after that misstep. He spread her legs and while one hand massaged her ass, the other tugged experimentally on whatever was still embedded in of her.

She moaned.

"Your ass is so appealing like that. Pink with my hand prints all over it. Something sticking out of it, stretching it... frak, woman. If I was about thirty years younger... you wouldn't be able to walk properly for a week."

She wasn't sure she'd be able to walk properly for a week, anyway. But the threat of needing more recovery time was enough to send her heart rate through the stratosphere.

He resumed spanking her after another moment of (what she guessed was) visual appreciation.

Laura moaned into a pillow after each slap to her thighs and ass. After a few minutes, she heard herself babbling quietly---begging for more, begging for less, begging to be his and only his forever---but she couldn't stop herself.

Bill was pulling out those reactions, drawing on her desires (to be loved, to belong, to be herself for a few hours) and using them to cause her to fall apart before he picked up the pieces.

When she screamed (partly in pleasure as well as in pain), he stopped raining down the hard slaps against her skin. He peppered a few light hits to her sore flesh and then he kneaded it.

He moved down as he rubbed her skin. She could feel his breath on it, teasing her as much as his fingers were.

Eventually, his fingers moved between her legs. Laura wriggled, lifting from her knees so he could have better access to her slick skin.

"I'm oozing out of you," he commented quietly.

She whimpered when the meaning of his words dawned on her.

He slid his fingers into the mess of their sexual fluids and he rubbed it into her folds. Laura moaned and arched her back to give him more access.

Bill followed her unspoken suggestion and drove two fingers inside her. There was a squish, a slurp, and then nothing but pleasure as he curved his fingers.

"Not until I tell you to," he reminded her.

Laura groaned in frustration and bit her pillow.

Bill chuckled and used his other hand to work the toy in and out of her ass with slow, even, and slightly twisting strokes.

"Now, do you think you deserve release?" he inquired quietly.

"Only if you think I do, sir."

"Smart woman," he whispered.

Laura smiled into the bedding. Those two words sent warmth through her entire body, the same as any other warmth he had given her that evening.

He began working her over in earnest, with the purpose of seeking release. He kept whispering to her, urging her to hold it in until he gave her permission; she struggled to obey, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each stroke and thrust he bestowed upon her.

With his talented fingers, Bill brought her to the edge of climax once, then twice.

Laura growled and whimpered, between frustration and desperation.

And then several things happened at once.

Bill bit into what had to have been one very pink hand print. He added a third finger to stretch her trembling hidden muscles. He pushed the unknown device all the way inside of her unused (until that night) channel.

"Now," he growled, through a mouthful of her flesh.

Laura hadn't needed any more prompting. Her thoughts, the ones meant to dampen her pleasure, died and she started to fully appreciate all of the sensations he was allowing her to feel.

Her orgasm both seeped and crashed into her, as if on two different levels. The pain tingled, the pleasure soothed, and Laura tumbled into so many feelings she hadn't really been expecting.

Bill pulled the unyielding plastic (that's what she guessed it was, since it hadn't felt like metal) from her ass and slowly removed his fingers after several lingering strokes.

She shivered, sighed, and tried to lick her lips. Her mouth was dry and her throat was hoarse. But, her body was still rippling through the aftereffects of her orgasm. She smiled.

Bill eased up so he was lying practically on top of her, with only some of his body on the mattress. He untied the blindfold and kissed her temple as the fingers of one of his hands brought some of the sheet up to wipe away the moisture there.

"I cried again," she whispered. "I didn't mean to---"

"Don't apologise," he interrupted quietly. "I like it when you don't hold back from me. It tells me I'm doing right by you."

Laura reached back with one of her hands and curved its palm to his hip. "Thank you for tonight," she murmured.

"Thank you, too," he replied.

They remained together, like that, for a few minutes. Both Laura and Bill were gathering their thoughts; she knew he needed the time as much as she did, to put thoughts and feelings in order and to take on their regular personalities.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked later, when she felt less submissive and more drowsy.

Bill stilled. When he spoke, his voice told her how surprised he was by her question.

"I... I'd really like it if you stayed here. If you want."

Laura squeezed his hip. In that moment, she wanted to stay. If she were completely honest with herself, she'd admit that she'd want to stay forever. But, she couldn't be that honest, yet, with herself or with Bill.

She knew she'd probably wake up later and panic. She always did that on Caprica, during the morning after a sexual encounter. It meant too much to allow a lover to see her so open and vulnerable. Part of her would encourage her to flee while Bill slept.

But, the rest of her wanted to stay and luxuriate in his warmth and safety.

"I want to," she whispered.

"Do you hog the covers?"

Laura laughed softly, sleepily. "I didn't when we napped, the first time."

"Yeah, but that wasn't all night."

"Your bedclothes are safe, Admiral," she teased.

"Alright. I'll... I'll put forth the motion that we get up and get cleaned up."

"I second the motion," she said on a laugh.

"All in favour say 'aye?'"

"Aye," they said, in nearly perfect union before sharing a chuckle.

"Motion carried," he amended.

Bill rolled off of her body and sat up. He helped Laura to her feet---she learned that she was less stable than she thought she was---and then he helped them both to the head where he began to clean them up.

Laura placed a call to Colonial One while Bill finished washing his face. She told Tory (who was incredibly confused by her boss' actions) that she would be staying on Galactica because she had an unplanned early meeting (and that she did not need to be staffed for said meeting). Before Tory could ask any questions, Laura ended the call and began to make her way back towards Bill's bed.

She pulled the covers back and put the damp pillow on the floor. She fluffed its cleaner counterparts and turned off one of the nearby lamps.

By that point, Bill came into the room and helped in tidying up the mess they made. She turned, looking at him with a relaxed smile on her face.

"So... can I ask what you used on me?"

"This brush handle," he said, motioning to a piece of rubber-coated plastic he was wiping down with a used facecloth. "And... the neck brace."

"What else?" she asked.

Bill gathered up those two things and put them in a dresser drawer. Then, he went into the sitting room area of his quarters and returned with what appeared to be two halves of syringes, a red and black mechanical pump with a pressure gauge, and some tubing that connected them together.

"You really did get creative," Laura murmured.

He smiled and shrugged. "You inspire me."

She smiled back at him as she cupped her breasts in her hands. "So, when I'm still tender tomorrow... I know who to blame," she said after giving her breasts a quick examination (and found them still swollen and a bright, flushed shade of pink)

"I have broad shoulders. I can take it," he said. He put the pump and tubes into the same drawer and then walked over to her. His arms went around her waist. "Get into my rack."

"Yes, sir," she purred.

Bill groaned and followed her as she walked backwards towards the bed.

After a few minutes, they shuffled themselves into comfortable positions under the blankets. Laura ended up between Bill and the wall, on her side, with one of her legs draped over both of his; one of her arms tucked under the pillow and the other wrapped around his chest.

He kissed her forehead.

"Wake me before you sneak off," he insisted quietly.

"I---"

"Wake me before you leave," he reiterated.

Laura blushed and tucked her face into his neck. "You know me too well," she muttered.

Bill chuckled. "Yeah, most of the time," he whispered. "It's alright to be scared. I won't judge you for it. Just tell me when you want some time and space."

She lifted her head and peeked up at him. "And you'll give them to me?"

"If it's what you need, yeah," he replied honestly.

His response caused her to shiver. To avoid replying to his words, she gave him a kiss before she settled back into his neck and shoulder.

She closed her eyes, but she didn't fall asleep immediately. She listened to Bill drop off into slumber as her fingers traced over the long scar on his chest, and then she tried to make sense of how she was feeling.

He knew her very well. He accepted her. He welcomed her into his private domain. If she reacted based upon her previous track record, she knew she should protest the simplicity their coming together. But, she couldn't bring herself to do that just yet.

TBC...