Kink!Bingo Entries: Vertical Line Not Through Middle + 1 Extra
Here are my entries to the Kink Bingo challenge at DW. I completed one bingo, a vertical line not through the middle, with fic and art; I had planned on trying to do another, but I ran out of time. Typical. So, I have an extra fanart piece at the bottom. While I wrote warnings in the header for each piece, I want to state here that the text-cuts should only be clicked on by people over the age of consent in their area. All the characters are consenting adults---all readers should be, too.
TITLE: A Campaign Stop Affair
PAIRING: CJ/Toby/Sam/Josh/Abbey (The West Wing)
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: 1661
WARNING: Sexual relations with multiple (and consenting) partners, slash, and femslash
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "gangbang."
The woman on the bed whimpered into the pillow she was gripping. Her lover---her lover that had gotten her into her current mess---was holding onto her hips with a bruising force as he snapped his hips forward and backward. The end of him bumped the end of her; each time it made contact, a little gurgled plea for more escaped her throat.
They had been having their usual campaign stop affair, in a less-than-perfect hotel that fit their budget's constraints, when the door had opened. She hadn't noticed; he had, and had also proceeded with their screwing even after the two men came inside and closed the door.
When they'd unzipped, unbuttoned, and ultimately undressed, she finally caught onto no longer being alone with her partner. She blushed and balked and tried to escape, but the man between her thighs was having no part in ending their activities.
She relented and allowed him to turn her over so he could thrust into her from behind.
The new arrivals had made themselves at home on either side of their colleagues, saying nothing but occasionally sighing, groaning, or whimpering, depending on how they enjoyed the performance playing out inches from them.
She felt her lover leaning down and kissing her back. He nipped underneath her shoulder blade. The quick pain of his teeth in sharp contrast to the slow burn of his beard made her cry out soft pleas for more.
He refused to deliver. He kept up his steady pace and maddening angle until she was babbling underneath him---something she would vehemently deny at a later date---and she scrambled in front of her for purchase of something stronger than the pillow and scratchy comforter.
Her left hand found a thigh; her right hand found an erection.
She startled at the recollection of having observers, men she barely knew except by few introductions and by reputation, but when the man behind her used his fingers on just the right nerve endings, she lost her inhibitions and reacted much more favourably towards them.
She leaned forward, arching her back as she slinked lower and managed to push her ass into the body of the bearded man. Then, she took the cock in her mouth and sucked on its head.
"Oh... fuck," came the breathy reply of the young writer.
He twitched. She felt it through her oral contact. When he inched closer, she accommodated him; she took more of him into her mouth. She sucked gently and then backed off. She swiped her tongue down his shaft, bit even more gently into the skin at its base, and then licked her way back up before clumsily guiding him back through the ring of her lips.
The man on her left inched closer, too. She gave a mental snort; he was always more insecure than he should be, always worrying about being left out. But, she didn't poke fun at him. Instead, she repositioned her right hand between her oral partner's legs, shifted her weight on the mattress, and reached out with her left hand to stroke his hardness slowly, all the while precariously positioned mostly on awkward elbows and knees.
Her hand sped up at her hips' thrusts increased in speed, but she controlled the pace at which she sucked and licked.
The man behind her was seeking his own release and had lost sight of hers---although she didn't know if that was intentional or accidental. He plowed into his, with a groan, a curse, and her name on his lips, before he collapsed against her.
"Damn it," he muttered. "I didn't want to stop."
He lifted himself off and out of her before speaking again. "Fuck, you look good doing that."
She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or insult---directed at her or at the men on either side of her---but she pulled her mouth off of the younger man and turned her head to look at the older man behind her.
"Want to experience it?" she asked.
She knew she had lost all sense of propriety but her shame and fear were being held down by the need building from between her legs and coursing through her veins.
He nodded and she stopped what she was doing with her hand. She propped herself up on her hands and knees, looking at the bearded man.
"Got condoms for those two, too?"
"Don't know if they'll fit, they're a little big," he said, grumpily teasing the other men who protested loudly in response.
She laughed softly and turned to the man she had been stroking with her hand. She kissed his lips, then a path from his cheek into his receding hairline, before whispering her intentions for him.
"I want you to lie down so you can fuck me," she whispered.
She blushed at the wanton tone behind her words, but she didn't back down. Her familiar lover left her hanging. She wanted more. She was going to get more.
The man reacted eagerly to his words. He slid down the bed and flopped down. He wriggled into the middle of the bed when she moved out of his way.
Seeing the disappointed look on the right-sided man's face, she smiled at him before kissing him. He tasted like what she thought sunshine should taste like and even though she loved the bitter kisses of her married lover, she knew she would grow fond of the younger man's kisses, too, if she allowed herself.
"You can fuck me, too, if you're careful," she whispered.
"At the same time?"
She nodded.
His face lit up with an excited smile, something more devious than he gave his colleagues when they were working.
"I'll be careful," he vowed.
The darker man returned to them, foil packets in one hand and a small bottle in the other. He took one condom out of its packaging, and rolled it down on the waiting man's erection. He had been sprawled in a relaxed (but excited) position, but as soon as the large hand took him in hand, he tensed and arched his hips up into the grip.
"Fuck... stop... oh..."
"Just getting you ready."
The tormented man gave a little giddy laugh before giving into his desires and rocking with the touch.
The tall, leggy, flushed woman reached out, took the other condom and gave it to the man who was lying on her other side. He prepared himself while she took the blue and purple bottle in her hand and flipped open the cap with her thumb.
She prepared herself. She knew what it did to the man presently engaged in a little manual labour; she knew he loved to watch her working her fingers past the tight ring of muscles to ready herself for his invasion. She hoped it would have a familiar effect on the others.
It did.
All three men watched as she slipped her fingers in and out, scissoring them when she needed more sensation, and she whimpered under their collectively hungry stare.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
She slinked over the man lying down, kissed him once before kissing the man at his side, and then she positioned his erection at her already-once-used entrance and slowly slid down onto him.
He was thinner, not quite as long, but she didn't care. He felt good inside of her, despite her reemerging feelings of awkwardness towards the situation, and she let out a little sigh once she was resting fully against him.
She leaned forward and kissed him again. After a few lazy kisses, she turned her head and looked to the younger man who was barely containing his hunger for more.
"C'mon, cowboy," she purred.
He all but pounced on her. She was afraid she'd have to remind him to go slowly, but as soon as he had placed his cock at her back entrance, he stilled, took a breath, and carefully breeched her body.
Her moan was loud and it didn't stop until he was resting against her.
"Move."
Both men obeyed her growled order.
Her lover didn't need an order. He waited until they set a rhythm and then he climbed onto the already-groaning bed. He kept his feet on either side of the reclining man's head and waited.
As soon as her rhythm was set, she sat up a bit and took his flaccid cock into her mouth. He was almost easier to suck this way, smaller and softer, and she liked being able to explore his looser skin at her leisure.
Arousal gave way to frantic behavior. The air was filled with slaps of skin on skin, sighs, groans, and whimpers. The mattress shook and bounced with each action each of them took.
She had never known such fullness. She knew she should have been ashamed, she knew it was wrong, but all she could think about in that moment were the sensations. One man in, one man out, one man constantly in front of her... over and over until her body's nerves betrayed her and brought her closer and closer to what they needed so desperately she thought her insides would melt.
The man's cock in her mouth began to swell, growing impressively hard in a relatively short period of time.
She opened her eyes and looked up, preparing a comment to share with him as soon as she freed her mouth from its activities and was surprised to see another woman---another woman who was not his wife---standing on the bed in stocking-clad feet and her suit that she wore on television earlier that day with her husband.
The newcomer broke off the kiss with the standing man to smile down at her.
"If you're a good girl, Claudia Jean, I'll clean you up," she purred. Her grin stretched. "I bet the spin boys would love to see that."
At that, her orgasm rippled through her body and took her current lovers over the edge with her.
&&&&
TITLE: Working Out the Kinks
PAIRING: Doc Cottle/Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica)
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: 1744
WARNING: Sexual relations, using a TENS unit in an off-label fashion
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "electricity." Oh, and he's always going to be Jack to me. Sorry, I just can't call him Sherman. It's not gonna happen.
"Does that still hurt?"
Laura looked away from the doctor and nodded. She knew she shouldn't have gone overboard at the gym, but since she'd been given a new lease on life, she felt as if she had more energy to do the things she always wanted to do but never thought she could try.
Starbuck had warned her not to use too much weight, but she ignored the warning. She could feel the burning in her legs, she could feel the way her pulse raced... she had felt alive and she never wanted to stop experiencing the sensation.
"I told you---" Doc Cottle broke off and sighed. She looked up in time to see him pulling a cigarette from his lab coat's breast pocket. In a smooth, well-practiced movement, he put the long, narrow cylinder between his lips and brought up his lighter to set it afire. "Well, I guess an 'I told you so' would be wasted on you."
"Yes, it would," she replied.
"Well... I could give you something for the pain. A relaxant. We've still got some of those left. Keep 'em mainly for the pilots and deck crew, but I could spare a couple for you if---"
"I don't want any drugs."
The military physician sighed. "Of course you don't. If I told you to take it easy, would you?"
"Maybe," Laura said, as honestly as she could.
Doc Cottle exhaled a long, low cloud of smoke and then flicked the ashes off of his cigarette into a nearby metal dish.
"You make things damned difficult, you know."
Laura smiled. "You wouldn't like me if I were easy, Doctor."
He grunted, rolled his eyes and while heading towards the curtains, he signaled to her to remain on the gurney.
She obeyed, although it was more her curiosity pertaining to his behavior than her sense of obedience that kept her in place, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and under her yellowish johnny shirt.
When he returned, he was holding onto a plastic case that didn't seem to be too heavy, judging on the way it balanced in his hand.
"I might have something here that will help."
"What?"
"Transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation," he replied, sounding less professional than he probably should have. The cigarette butt and gruff tone didn't help his bedside manner any. "We'll use electricity and see if that'll get your leg muscles back in shape."
"They're in shape," she told him, a smile teasing her lips. "I've got great legs."
He snorted. "Yeah, well, Madam President, they're not working too great at the moment, so how about you let me give this a try?" he suggested. "Or else, next time they cramp up in a Quorum meeting, maybe Zarek'll massage the kinks out for you."
"Don't you dare joke about---"
"I'll joke about whatever I gods damn well please, young lady," he interrupted, earning a terse laugh from the woman on the bed. "And who says I'm joking?"
"Doctor..."
He flashed her a quick grin. "Yeah, I know. I wouldn't want to wash that creep's slime off, either."
"I didn't know you swung that way."
"I don't."
She grinned. "I know," she murmured. "I just like to pick on you."
"You'll give me a complex before we ever reach this frakking Earth you and the Admiral keep talking about," he muttered. "Now, lie back, would you? I'm going to set this up and put some electrodes on you."
Laura tensed. "Excuse me?"
"How else did you think I'd get electrical current into your muscles? Cut a wire down from the ceiling and zap you with it?"
She huffed. "Don't take that tone with me."
"I'll take whatever tone I want to take. This is my territory, missy, and you're my patient."
She huffed again, but when she saw that she wasn't getting any reaction from him, she sighed and leaned back so she was reclined against the thin mattress.
"Ass."
"Ow... you wound me with your words," he grumbled as he opened the kit and went to work.
A few minutes later, he had ascertained which muscles were bothering her the most and he applied the electrodes to specific spots along her thighs and calves.
"We'll just go one side at a time, alright?" he asked her. When she nodded, he said, "Tell me if it hurts or helps, Madam President."
"You've poked, prodded, and scanned my breasts... you've seen me sicker than I've ever been before in my life. Don't you think you could call me 'Laura?'"
"I'm the picture of professionalism."
Laura laughed. She was still laughing a little when he turned the machine on so her muscles began to contract and relax in time with the pulses; her laughter faded rather quickly as the electric current began to work its magic.
"Ohh," she breathed. "That's... different."
She had said 'different,' because each time the pad on the inside of her ankle sent current into her body, it traveled all the way up into her pelvic region. It caused her abdomen to tighten and relax, too, but not directly because of the electricity. She found its effect on her puzzling and it took a few more minutes, and more prompting from the doctor, to determine how she felt about the sensation.
"Good or bad?"
"Good... definitely good," she whispered.
Laura closed her eyes and tipped her head back. It was only on one side, but it was beginning to feel very, very good. She wondered if it was normal---or if her nerves had somehow mutated away from how they should normally behave.
"Any pain?"
"No... no bad pain," she breathed.
"Madam President? Bad pain?"
At the sound of the doctor's voice, more insistent than before, she opened her eyes and looked down at him. She felt her cheeks flush.
"Y'know... there's good pain and bad pain?" she said, hoping her explanation would suffice. When Doc Cottle continued to glare at her, she blushed more and tried to tell him more without embarrassing herself further. "Well... it's like... the contractions are good pain. I can feel it... it's not so sore? It... I mean, my leg. Can you do both at once? I'd hate to keep you from something else more important."
He gave her a nod but didn't look entirely convinced by anything she said.
When the current traveled up her other leg, she closed her eyes again. She exhaled slowly, accustoming herself with the sensations as they flitted up her legs' nerves and ended near her hips.
After a few minutes, the doctor must have increased the intensity of the electrical output because she felt her hips thrusting up in time to the strongest of the pulses.
"Oh... gods," she breathed, hissing a little. "Gods... yes."
The intensity increased again, until it was just short of being painful. Laura writhed and lost herself in the sensations. She reached up and fumbled for a hold on the corners of the gurney's mattress and when she finally gripped it, she used it for leverage as she rocked her body in time to its needs.
Another handful of minutes passed, and Laura reached down with one hand. She pressed her fingers over her abdomen, against her clit, and used the pressure to pushed herself into a climax that left her head feeling lighter than it had while under the effects of Chamalla.
The electric current faded from her body. She didn't process what that meant until she heard a lighter being flicked into operation.
He was still there.
"Do you want me to leave you alone with the controller box?"
Laura startled, flailing her arms and making contact with a tray stand as she sat up abruptly and pushed her legs tightly shut. The tray crashed, Ishay demanded to know if they were alright, Doc Cottle called back that they were.
She looked up at him with a flushed face. He was smoking and smirking a little around the edges of his mouth, the way a hungry-for-something-other-than-food man would.
"Enjoyed the show, did you, Doctor?" Laura asked after clearing her throat.
He nodded. "Absolutely, Madam President."
"Look, I think I just forgot myself and... if you could just---"
"How are you feeling?" he asked, cutting off her rambling request.
She took stock of her aches and pains and found they weren't as many as they had been before. Whether it was the orgasm or the electricity, she wasn't sure, but she was glad something had worked.
"I'm still a bit sore... not as bad, though."
He smirked more. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, we might try another type of pain management."
"Haven't we done enough already?" she inquired. Her heart rate was increasing; she sensed she knew what he was implying and her body was responding favourably to the suggestion despite her inhibitions.
"Pain management can be a tricky thing... hard to get right," he told her. "We could step into my office and I could give you a very thorough demonstration. Maybe a massage to start, and we'll take it from there."
Laura shivered. She saw the doctor's expression cloud over, as if he was suddenly afraid he had misread her and misbehaved. She smiled to ease his nerves.
"Only if you call me 'Laura.'"
"Only if you call me 'Jack.'"
"I saw on your military record that your name is really---"
"If you say it, I will walk out of here with this handy contraption."
Laura paused and pressed her lips together before smiling again.
"Alright. It's a deal."
"I'll just tell Layne I have a very important consult, and then I'll meet you in my office," he said.
He moved to walk past her but Laura caught his coat in her hand and tugged him close to her bedside. She kissed him, purring softly when he yielded to her unspoken demand and deepened the embrace.
When she pulled back, they were both smiling. She let out a little giggle of nervous energy and then whispered, "Maybe you should bring this stuff with you, in case there are any more kinks that need working out?"
"You read my mind," he replied, winking at her before he blew through the curtain in search of his aide.
&&&&
TITLE: Naked Day
PAIRING: Laura Roslin/Bill Adama (Battlestar Galactica)
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: 3210
WARNING: Sexual relations between two consenting adults
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "exhibitionism."
After the second day of sharing his quarters with her, Laura thought she was going mad. Not because Bill snored or deigned to leave his toenail clippings lying around, but because he seemed to be completely oblivious to her subtle flirtations.
She had hoped that when he offered her his private space as a change of scenery, he had been doing it to be closer to her and to spend more time with her---to help their friendship progress into something much more physically satisfying. She already cared deeply for him and she knew he cared for her (or else he would have left her back on Colonial One until cabin fever and loneliness cracked her mind), so unless he found her completely unattractive (which she doubted was the case based on her evidence of catching him watching her legs rather intently during meetings over the past few weeks) she did not understand why he didn't make a move.
Laura decided she would have to take matters into her own hands.
She had had a meeting with him and the Colonel at sixteen-hundred hours. She went back to the Admiral's cabin to change into her shorter skirt and new (well, not new, but new to her) green blouse; after running a hand through her hair she went to join them in the room chosen for their discussion.
It had gone as well as he could have hoped. Each time she crossed her legs or uncrossed her legs, Bill's eyes unfocused. His gaze would drop down to study her limbs. When she wriggled one foot out of her shoe and brushed her toes over her other foot, she saw him shift in his seat.
To her, he seemed to have a fascination with her lower extremities. She liked knowing (or thinking) that. She just wished she knew what to do with that information.
After their meeting, she went back to his quarters and dismissed Tory. She told her to take the night off, maybe go to the ship's makeshift bar, and have a little fun. She told her they all needed a little fun. She desperately wanted a lot of fun, but she didn't share that information with her aide.
Her Marine guards were standing outside of the hatch but it was closed. She was alone to sit and think up her next step in ensuring she got what she (and he, she suspected) wanted.
She didn't sit and think, though. She paced and thought, she paced and thought until she was sure she must've worn a path into the dense carpet and her head would explode at any given moment.
And after all the pacing, she flopped down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands.
She didn't have an idea. She wasn't sure how to initiate anything beyond their friendship with any sort of grace. She was frustrated, ready to go, but she didn't know how to get started without just plopping down in his lap and demanding that he take care of her other, very pressing needs---consequences be damned.
Laura giggled as she imagined the look on Bill's face if she did that.
Then, she wondered if she should just strip down in front of him and see how he would react.
She giggled more.
But, the idea, as silly as it was, stuck with her because (she'd only admit to herself that) it was exciting
She wondered if she was brave enough to bare herself to him, to surprise him with her lines, wrinkles, and pale, sunless skin. She thought it would be as subtle as dropping an anvil on his head---but she wasn't sure if it would be more successful.
Somehow, she ended up in the small bathroom, to catalogue the damage age had done to her body. She had cared for it as much as she could, but time had taken its toll on her skin. As she undressed, she revealed a couple of new scars from her time on New Caprica; she frowned as she rubbed her fingers over them and remembered how they came to be. She checked the way her muscles moved and the way her limbs appeared; she studied her weight, agonised over the little bumps and lumps under the skin around her thighs, and wished she had a neater bikini line. She wriggled her toes, wondered what Bill's fascination with them was about, bounced up onto the balls of her feet, and pondered if walking like that would make her legs seem even longer.
Richard had found her attractive---but she always thought that attraction had been more about the allure of the secret they shared and less about her physicality---and she knew Sean did, too---but she knew that was more about her being his former teacher and satisfying some sort of fantasy than anything else.
She knew she wasn't unfortunate-looking, but she wasn't sure why Bill would be attracted to her (if he was, because as much as she hoped and suspected, she would always have a nagging doubt that it was a platonic friendship on his side of things). She was smart. But, she could make so many mistakes. She was leggy, but not very busty, and her hair wasn't a true red but it wasn't a true brown. Her skin was too pale. She was old. She was dying again.
After twenty minutes of self-reflection, she had one question: Could she bare herself to him, even if he asked her to?
The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she could go through with it and what his reaction would be.
An image of a bewildered Bill in her mind didn't make her giggle anymore but it still made her smile a bit.
Maybe it would be an unprecedented disaster. Maybe he would tell her he was seeing someone else. Maybe he would hurry away from her, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
But, a quiet voice in the back of her mind piped up: Maybe he will stay and take care of you. Maybe he'll admit he feels the same way towards you that you do towards him. Maybe it will work.
She looked back to the mirror and sighed. She didn't know what to do.
Just as she was beginning to talk herself back into her clothes and out of the idea she'd had to get his attention, she heard the hatch opening. She heard voices---Bill's joined by the voice of one of her Marine escorts---and then she heard the hatch closing before there was silence (or quiet noises she couldn't hear through the bathroom's door).
"Laura?"
(She had finally gotten him used to calling him by her given name while they were roommates. It had only managed to become one of his habits a couple of days ago.)
"I'm in the bathro---I mean, I'm in the head. I'll be right out."
She cursed under her breath and then looked back into her reflection through her glasses.
"It's now or never, Laura," she muttered to herself, trying to psych herself up to go through with her ridiculous stunt.
She sighed and then straightened her shoulders and summoned the courage she used during those first few, very nerve-wracking Quorum meetings.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked, calling out to her.
"Sure," she replied.
Laura sucked in a sharp breath, prayed to the Gods, and then turned to open the bathroom door.
She saw his robe hanging on the wall.
Impulsively, she put it on but didn't tie the sash. Despite her insecurities, a desire to be seen by him---and to take a chance on their future---had strengthened. An instant later, she was walking out into the main rooms, the robe hiding but also revealing her bare body.
Bill looked up at her, two glasses in his hands. His face registered some sort of shocked emotion; his jaw went slack and his eyes widened.
One of the glasses onto which he was holding dropped and bounced off of a nearby chair. It spilled a gold-toned liquid across the carpet before rolling across the room.
Before he commented, he busied himself with picking up the errant tumbler. "What... what exactly... you could have put clothes on. No need to hurry out on my account."
She forced herself to smile and say the first thing that came to mind.
"I'm having a naked day," she told him.
"It's eighteen-hundred."
"A naked evening, then," she said with a shrug.
"You're wearing my robe."
She nodded. "Well, I got cold, Bill," she replied. "It's one of the downfalls of forgoing clothes."
"I... right." He stepped towards her with the remaining full glass offered out to her. "Here," he insisted. "Your drink."
"Thank you," she murmured. She smiled at him over her glasses and accepted the proffered beverage. She hummed appreciatively as she sipped it. "Are you going to join me?" she asked, motioning towards his empty cup.
Bill's brow furrowed and he quickly inhaled while averting his eyes to his hand. "Oh. Right. Yes. If you'd like the company."
"That's why I'm staying here," she reminded him.
He nodded jerkily and returned to the ledge where he stored his alcohol. He poured himself more than he had before and took a gulp of the drink before facing her again.
Bill's eyes traveled quickly over her attire (or lack thereof) and she felt more optimistic than she had earlier about their predicament. Something in the way his blue eyes darkened gave her hope to believe the attraction wasn't one-sided. She felt emboldened, ready to take the next step.
"How was your day?" she asked.
"It's taken an interesting turn."
She laughed softly, giggling a little bit near the end. "I'll bet."
"So, this naked day business," he said, "is it a one-time thing, or should I expect to see you like this more often?"
Laura shrugged. "Well, if it bothers you---"
"I didn't say that."
She smiled. "It's just so... freeing, you know?" she said, playing along with her scheme. "I mean, I wouldn't walk around like this in front of many people. Usually, just by myself. But, you caught me."
"I'd apologise, but I don't feel... entirely apologetic."
Her smile turned into a grin. He moved to the sofa and sat down.
At first, Laura's instinct was to get as close to him as she possibly could. She thought she could intimidate him into a flustered state and then into doing something about their proximity and her state of (un)dress. But, as she quickly raced through her options, she decided to sit a couple of feet away from him and let him look at her, if he wished to do so. She put her legs up on the coffee table and stretched out, resting her glass on her stomach as she looked at him.
"How long does naked day last?"
"As long as I feel like it," she replied.
He nodded. "Hmm... alright. I guess that makes sense."
Laura sipped her drink and as she lowered her glass, she shrugged her shoulder discretely to let the robe slip down her arm. One breast was partially exposed and the other was completely exposed. Her nipples were hard---from both nervousness and arousal---and she knew he could see that. As insecure as she was, there was something thrilling about her exposure.
She uncrossed her legs and wiggled her toes. Bill grunted quietly after swallowing some more of his alcohol.
"So... do you have big plans for tonight?" she asked.
"Some reports that need reviewing and my signature," he replied. "You?"
Laura nodded. "Tory left me some interview requests to go over. And there's another problem with self-made distilleries that could use some addressing. Apparently sick bay's had a few poisonings."
"Anything fatal?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing like that, but it does warrant some investigation."
"Did you talk to the Vice President about his requests for ship repairs?" Bill asked.
Laura sighed. "To be honest, I didn't go see him today. I didn't want to deal with him. Maybe tomorrow."
After draining the last drops of alcohol from her glass, she bent forward and set it on the low table. She had to move one of her legs to do it comfortably, and in doing so, she ended up spreading her thighs. It was unintentional, but after she realised what she had done, she decided not to correct her position.
"It's very liberating," she murmured.
"So you've said."
"Sometimes I can't stand to look at myself," she admitted. She shrugged. "But, this isn't about vanity. Just comfort."
"And liberation."
"Exactly," she agreed, smiling more.
Laura dropped her hands to her abdomen and patted a gentle rhythm out with her fingers.
"Is there a problem, Laura?"
She shook her head. "No... I'm just... putting off tonight's homework."
"Ah. Right."
Laura glanced at Bill and saw that his gaze was pretty focused on the apex of her thighs. She smothered a snort and looked away from him.
"Do you know if there's anyone on Galactica who can wax really well?" she asked.
The stress involved in asking the question was worth Bill's shocked cough.
"Wax... what, exactly?" he asked in a higher voice than before.
"Well," Laura said, pretending to study her pubic hair, "it's getting kind of out of hand. I do what I can with a razor, but... I mean, don't you just think it's in the way?"
Bill made a quiet, surprised noise but didn't say anything. Laura, feeling a little buzz from the drink and a huge rush from not being turned away immediately, proceeded with her impromptu subject matter.
"It's just... in the way," she said as she brushed her fingers through the curls and down over her folds. "I guess waxing it all off would be a little ridiculous because I'm of a certain age, but... I don't know. I'd just like to neaten it up."
"It doesn't look to be in the way," he said quietly.
Laura smiled and shook her head, but she didn't look at him. Instead, she used her thumb and middle finger to part her outer lips so she could stroke her index finger over her opening.
Bill cleared his throat.
"No... I guess it doesn't slow me down. But, some men---"
"Some men like to pretend they're with younger women. Some men should just thank their lucky stars they got that close to a good woman and should forget about the small stuff."
Laura turned to look at him again. "And which kind of man are you?" she asked quietly.
"One that likes a woman to be herself, hairs, freckles, scars and all."
His response made her stomach flutter.
She moved to withdraw her hand. She was ready to turn and face him and just ask what she wanted of him; she was ready to stop playing games with him and to just be honest with him, even if he might see through her charade.
But, as she pulled her fingers away from her slick skin, he quietly rumbled: "Don't stop."
Laura blushed and put her hand back down between her legs.
Her game had morphed into something else entirely.
She stroked herself slowly. She brought her thumb up and pressed it down in a circle around her bundle of nerves. Each touch made her want to whimper and turn towards him to ask him to participate with her, but she had a feeling that wasn't what he wanted from her.
"How does that feel, Laura?" he asked her.
"Really good," she whispered.
"Do you touch yourself like this a lot?"
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Then, she shook her head. "Only... only when I'm alone," she confessed, "and I'm not alone much."
"Now, that's not true. I heard you a few nights ago."
Laura's eyes popped wide open and she looked at him. "You... you heard me?" she squeaked.
"Frak, yes," he muttered. "I heard you under the covers in my rack. I was out here and I heard you."
"What did you do?" she asked.
"I stayed out here, on this couch, and I jerked myself off as I thought about you," he told her, no trace of shame in his voice.
"Show me," she whispered.
"Maybe... but first, I want to do something."
Before Laura could beg---"Something, anything!"---Bill leaned down and kissed her. She whimpered, tried to deepen the kiss, and then whimpered again as he backed away.
"You want me to show you what I did the other night?"
Laura nodded jerkily.
"You keep doing what you're doing then."
She smiled. "You'll show me yours if I show you mine?"
"Something like that," he agreed as he leaned back in his chair and unfastened his belt.
The President watched, transfixed, as he unbuttoned his uniform trousers and pulled his cock out of his shorts. He stroked himself to hardness (there really wasn't that much more to do, she discovered, since he was already most of the way stiff) and then he looked at her.
"You stopped."
Laura laughed quietly. "I got distracted."
"Well, you better fix that."
Their banter slowed but didn't fade as they touched and teased themselves. Laura's words got lost on moans and whimpers more than his but his sentences faded away in the middle than hers did.
She was so close. She could feel her muscles aching. A warmth had taken up residence in her abdomen, spreading up and out from those nerves she was exploiting.
"Bill, I---"
"Don't stop until you get off," he rasped.
She looked over at him and watched his face. There was a little sweat beading on his upper lip; his brow had furrowed in the middle, in some sort of reaction to his level of concentration.
"And then what?" she asked.
"And then, we're gonna rest up a bit... and try something else."
When he smiled, her thumb brushed over her clit again (and again) and her nerves seemed to explode. She cried out in surprise (because she really thought she had more staying power than that) as her orgasm sizzled through her.
She slowed her fingers, pumping slowly in and out as her hidden muscles twitched around them. As she did that, she watched Bill through her lashes and glasses. He was still stroking himself, twisting his hand a little over the head of his erection, but he was still looking at her, too, and she found that added to the excitement of what they were doing.
He groaned and tipped his head back. A second after breaking eye contact with her, he squeezed his cock and slightly thrust his hips upwards. She saw the result of his climax spurt up before landing on his fingers and dribbling over his skin.
"Gods... damn it," he whispered.
"Don't say that," she murmured. "I liked watching."
"Me, too," he admitted. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Would you object to me getting cleaned up and then letting me join you in your naked festivities?"
Laura grinned lazily and shook her head. Maybe her bold move would improve their situation, after all.
&&&&
TITLE: Fashion Fetish
PAIRING: Dot/Ellie (High Society)
RATING: strong arr
WORD COUNT: 1539
WARNING: Femslash
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "sensation play." I didn't exactly use fun bondage toys for this. Instead, since these ladies love clothes, I went with fashions. Hopefully it's okay for the prompt. // I used a Wikipedia article on the history of fashion to help me write this fic. I'm not really into designers... so some garments I had to make up. Some I was able to find online and describe.
When Ellie brushed the fabric against Dot's cheek, the brunette sighed and leaned into the silky smooth fabric.
"That's my vintage Dior," she murmured in a dreamy tone of voice.
"Right again!" Ellie crowed. "God, you're good at this!"
"I just love my clothes," she purred.
"Are you sure you can't see through that blindfold?"
Dot chuckled. "You mean one of my Hermès scarves?"
Ellie pouted. Even through the scarf wrapped around her neck, she knew her blonde friend was pouting. "Don't tell me you know which one," she mumbled.
"The gray one. I think it's called... Les éperons---"
"How---"
Dot smirked. "Only because I wore it last week, and I recognise the perfume on it."
"Damn it, you're smart!"
"Always, when it comes to fashion."
Ellie started to agree, but then, she stopped and said, "What about that Vivienne Westwood phase?"
"I looked rather attractive."
"I did like the skirt with the chains on it," Elle admitted.
Dot smiled and nodded. "I know you did. You kept trying to steal it on me."
"I wanted what's-his-name to have something to hold onto when we were dancing."
"Those chains did come in handy," the temporarily-blinded brunette said. "Now, c'mon, keep going---you haven't stumped me yet."
"Will I ever?" Ellie demanded. "I mean, come on, Dot. We're neck in neck for our fashion knowledge! We're necking!"
Dot hummed quietly and then tipped her head back a bit as she spoke. "Not since college, darling."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."
"I should be offended, I think," the brunette muttered.
"Hardly. It's mostly the bad ones I remember---even through the booze and pills!" Ellie exclaimed before a brief but loud laugh. "I'd take it as a compliment if I were you."
"Well, since I'm the only woman you've fooled around with, I guess I will do that. One less thing to discuss with my therapist."
Ellie touched her friend's shoulder. "Since when do you see a therapist?"
"Since they became the hottest celebrity accessory."
"Should I have one?"
Dot smiled and shook her head. "Ellie, I don't think you'd enjoy it. Talking about your feelings and your dreams... your problems..."
When the seated woman trailed off, the blonde responded quickly. "Problems? I don't have a date for tonight yet. My feelings? Tipsy, happy, confident, horny. Dreams? Oh, you know, that one where Kevin Costner takes me out dancing in a big field before stripping me down and taking me there in the grass while the wolves howl all around---"
"Hmmm... I really don't think Lieutenant Dunbar is your type."
"Who?"
Dot smiled. "That was his character in Dances With Wolves," she explained.
"Oh, right. Okay, okay, too much serious thought. On with the clothes!"
Ellie walked away from Dot's position in the room---blindfolded, on her vanity's chair---and towards the large, walk-in closet that they had been pawing through before the game had evolved into being their evening entertainment.
She brought another garment up to Dot's face. She couldn't touch with her hands because Ellie had been sure it would be too easy for her; but, as Dot continued to correctly guess all but one earlier chosen piece, Ellie wasn't sure what would make it more difficult.
"Mmm, I love the smell of leather," Dot murmured as she leaned forward and inhaled deeply. "Is this my Gucci blazer?"
"Damn it! Would you just work with me? Give me something I can work with! I'm trying to stump you!"
Dot grinned. "Y'know, I used to wear this jacket all by itself. It feels really nice against my skin."
"When?"
"When I was alone, obviously," Dot replied. "Try it, if you want."
"Does it get you off?" Ellie leered.
With a sweet, but devious, smile, Dot said, "Sometimes."
Ellie's gasp was one of astonishment. "Liar!"
The brunette laughed. "Like you don't get off when you wear a new pair of Manolo's," she teased.
"Hm. Good point. Y'know, maybe you need another degree of difficulty."
"I could always switch places with you and you could guess what clothes I'm bringing out for you," Dot suggested.
"I can barely remember what's in my own closet, let alone yours, Dot!"
Chuckling quietly, Dot shrugged and waited for her blonde friend to decide what the degree of difficulty would be.
After what seemed like fifteen minutes had passed, Dot spoke up: "You know, we do have to get ready for the party tonight."
"We've got plenty of time. Hmmm, okay. Get on the bed."
Dot snickered. "Ellie..."
"No, I'm going to test your feet instead! Less smells, less finger touching... and maybe then, I'll stump you!"
She humoured her friend and blindly rose to a standing position before walking with certainty the approximate seven feet from the chair to the bed. After she reclined against the pillows, she settled her silk robe around her legs and smiled.
"Ready?"
"Set."
"Time for fashion!" Ellie declared.
The next garment was an evening gown. Dot wasn't sure of the label on the first touch of the fabric against her toes, so she asked for a clue.
In reply, Ellie shifted her robe and brushed the inside of the dress against her knee.
"Mmmm... I'm thinking... champagne... those little spicy canapés... you flirting with the young waiter, me with that photographer from the W< fashion show. Must be my dark red Prada dress?"
"Did you sleep with that guy?"
"No, there was no sleeping involved."
Ellie's grin could be heard in her voice. "Good girl."
"I learn from the best."
"You could stand to practice what I teach more often, Dot," Ellie added. "You'd have a lot more fun."
Dot smiled. "I have all the fun I can manage. Besides, I live vicariously through you sometimes, too."
"What does that mean?"
"And I thought you were the writer," the brunette murmured. She shifted her legs as Ellie's hand resumed rubbing the fabric over her skin. "Ellie, darling, I already guessed what dress it is."
"I know."
"Are we going to be doing a little time traveling?" she asked quietly---hopefully, but trying not to let the emotion show.
Ellie's comment about her not remembering their secret tryst had hurt her feelings; if the chance was going to present itself, she wanted to see if she could redeem herself in Ellie's memory.
"Time travel?" Ellie echoed. "Oh, god, no. All that fumbling and the small bed with the crappy thread count sheets? No, no... now we have props and the best bedding money can buy."
"Was this whole game foreplay?" Dot inquired.
Ellie replied: "You know I can't plan that far ahead."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing."
"Well, darling, if you want me to enjoy this, you know I'll want to do something," Dot reminded her.
The bed moved. Ellie had moved off of it without saying anything. Dot, who had been relatively warmed by revisiting some of her favourite pieces in her closet, shifted her weight in anticipation of the possible change in their activities. She rubbed her legs together nervously and listened to her friend rummaging through her clothes.
"Ohhh... here's something," the blonde murmured.
She returned to the bed and sat down. Dot listened as she curled up next to her, moving whatever piece of clothing she had found on the racks.
Ellie slowly untied Dot's robe with one hand, her fingers making easy work of the loose knot, before that hand parted her robe and put her hand on Dot's stomach.
The brunette sucked in a quick breath. "Skin. Ellie. Circa nineteen-sixty---"
"Smartass."
"I'm smart all over," Dot murmured.
"Well, let's put that theory to the test, shall we?"
"Let's."
Ellie brushed something that felt like wool along Dot's abdomen, before trailing it up to smooth it along the underside of one of her breasts. The head of the publishing house sighed happily and rubbed her cheek against the pillow closest to her.
"Do you know what it is?" Ellie asked.
"I'm guessing it's my blue Chanel blazer," Dot replied quickly. "But, I'm not sure. Maybe you should give me another clue."
Ellie snickered as she brushed the blazer over both of Dot's breasts. She snickered again when Dot arched up into the touch.
"So, the blazer... that's your answer?"
"Yeah," Dot whispered on a breathy sigh.
The cool button on her nipple was the next thing she felt. She shivered and bit her lip as Ellie continued to tease her with the garment.
"God, this is so much better than college," Dot whispered.
"I've gotten better."
Dot chuckled. Her smile remained on her lips even as Ellie leaned down and kissed her.
"You think the game's over, or should we keep it up and see how much I can make you beg first?"
The brunette exhaled slowly. Then, she said, "I don't beg."
"Yeah, right."
"I might make demands... but I don't beg," Dot insisted.
Ellie snorted. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"
"Mmm, yes, please," Dot murmured as she writhed, settling into a comfortable position on the bed as Ellie moved over her and proceeded to test Dot's version of the truth.
&&&&
TITLE: Evening Routine
PAIRING: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica)
RATING: arr
WORD COUNT: N/A, it's fanart.
WARNING: Sexual activity between consenting adults; a mild form of a dominant/submissive relationship.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "obedience."
Click for larger image
&&&&
TITLE: At the Groundbreaking Ceremony
PAIRING: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: N/A, it's fanart.
WARNING: Explicit language included in the image; part of a conversation between two consenting (and randy) adults.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "dirty talk." This is the extra one.
Click for larger image
TITLE: A Campaign Stop Affair
PAIRING: CJ/Toby/Sam/Josh/Abbey (The West Wing)
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: 1661
WARNING: Sexual relations with multiple (and consenting) partners, slash, and femslash
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "gangbang."
The woman on the bed whimpered into the pillow she was gripping. Her lover---her lover that had gotten her into her current mess---was holding onto her hips with a bruising force as he snapped his hips forward and backward. The end of him bumped the end of her; each time it made contact, a little gurgled plea for more escaped her throat.
They had been having their usual campaign stop affair, in a less-than-perfect hotel that fit their budget's constraints, when the door had opened. She hadn't noticed; he had, and had also proceeded with their screwing even after the two men came inside and closed the door.
When they'd unzipped, unbuttoned, and ultimately undressed, she finally caught onto no longer being alone with her partner. She blushed and balked and tried to escape, but the man between her thighs was having no part in ending their activities.
She relented and allowed him to turn her over so he could thrust into her from behind.
The new arrivals had made themselves at home on either side of their colleagues, saying nothing but occasionally sighing, groaning, or whimpering, depending on how they enjoyed the performance playing out inches from them.
She felt her lover leaning down and kissing her back. He nipped underneath her shoulder blade. The quick pain of his teeth in sharp contrast to the slow burn of his beard made her cry out soft pleas for more.
He refused to deliver. He kept up his steady pace and maddening angle until she was babbling underneath him---something she would vehemently deny at a later date---and she scrambled in front of her for purchase of something stronger than the pillow and scratchy comforter.
Her left hand found a thigh; her right hand found an erection.
She startled at the recollection of having observers, men she barely knew except by few introductions and by reputation, but when the man behind her used his fingers on just the right nerve endings, she lost her inhibitions and reacted much more favourably towards them.
She leaned forward, arching her back as she slinked lower and managed to push her ass into the body of the bearded man. Then, she took the cock in her mouth and sucked on its head.
"Oh... fuck," came the breathy reply of the young writer.
He twitched. She felt it through her oral contact. When he inched closer, she accommodated him; she took more of him into her mouth. She sucked gently and then backed off. She swiped her tongue down his shaft, bit even more gently into the skin at its base, and then licked her way back up before clumsily guiding him back through the ring of her lips.
The man on her left inched closer, too. She gave a mental snort; he was always more insecure than he should be, always worrying about being left out. But, she didn't poke fun at him. Instead, she repositioned her right hand between her oral partner's legs, shifted her weight on the mattress, and reached out with her left hand to stroke his hardness slowly, all the while precariously positioned mostly on awkward elbows and knees.
Her hand sped up at her hips' thrusts increased in speed, but she controlled the pace at which she sucked and licked.
The man behind her was seeking his own release and had lost sight of hers---although she didn't know if that was intentional or accidental. He plowed into his, with a groan, a curse, and her name on his lips, before he collapsed against her.
"Damn it," he muttered. "I didn't want to stop."
He lifted himself off and out of her before speaking again. "Fuck, you look good doing that."
She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or insult---directed at her or at the men on either side of her---but she pulled her mouth off of the younger man and turned her head to look at the older man behind her.
"Want to experience it?" she asked.
She knew she had lost all sense of propriety but her shame and fear were being held down by the need building from between her legs and coursing through her veins.
He nodded and she stopped what she was doing with her hand. She propped herself up on her hands and knees, looking at the bearded man.
"Got condoms for those two, too?"
"Don't know if they'll fit, they're a little big," he said, grumpily teasing the other men who protested loudly in response.
She laughed softly and turned to the man she had been stroking with her hand. She kissed his lips, then a path from his cheek into his receding hairline, before whispering her intentions for him.
"I want you to lie down so you can fuck me," she whispered.
She blushed at the wanton tone behind her words, but she didn't back down. Her familiar lover left her hanging. She wanted more. She was going to get more.
The man reacted eagerly to his words. He slid down the bed and flopped down. He wriggled into the middle of the bed when she moved out of his way.
Seeing the disappointed look on the right-sided man's face, she smiled at him before kissing him. He tasted like what she thought sunshine should taste like and even though she loved the bitter kisses of her married lover, she knew she would grow fond of the younger man's kisses, too, if she allowed herself.
"You can fuck me, too, if you're careful," she whispered.
"At the same time?"
She nodded.
His face lit up with an excited smile, something more devious than he gave his colleagues when they were working.
"I'll be careful," he vowed.
The darker man returned to them, foil packets in one hand and a small bottle in the other. He took one condom out of its packaging, and rolled it down on the waiting man's erection. He had been sprawled in a relaxed (but excited) position, but as soon as the large hand took him in hand, he tensed and arched his hips up into the grip.
"Fuck... stop... oh..."
"Just getting you ready."
The tormented man gave a little giddy laugh before giving into his desires and rocking with the touch.
The tall, leggy, flushed woman reached out, took the other condom and gave it to the man who was lying on her other side. He prepared himself while she took the blue and purple bottle in her hand and flipped open the cap with her thumb.
She prepared herself. She knew what it did to the man presently engaged in a little manual labour; she knew he loved to watch her working her fingers past the tight ring of muscles to ready herself for his invasion. She hoped it would have a familiar effect on the others.
It did.
All three men watched as she slipped her fingers in and out, scissoring them when she needed more sensation, and she whimpered under their collectively hungry stare.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
She slinked over the man lying down, kissed him once before kissing the man at his side, and then she positioned his erection at her already-once-used entrance and slowly slid down onto him.
He was thinner, not quite as long, but she didn't care. He felt good inside of her, despite her reemerging feelings of awkwardness towards the situation, and she let out a little sigh once she was resting fully against him.
She leaned forward and kissed him again. After a few lazy kisses, she turned her head and looked to the younger man who was barely containing his hunger for more.
"C'mon, cowboy," she purred.
He all but pounced on her. She was afraid she'd have to remind him to go slowly, but as soon as he had placed his cock at her back entrance, he stilled, took a breath, and carefully breeched her body.
Her moan was loud and it didn't stop until he was resting against her.
"Move."
Both men obeyed her growled order.
Her lover didn't need an order. He waited until they set a rhythm and then he climbed onto the already-groaning bed. He kept his feet on either side of the reclining man's head and waited.
As soon as her rhythm was set, she sat up a bit and took his flaccid cock into her mouth. He was almost easier to suck this way, smaller and softer, and she liked being able to explore his looser skin at her leisure.
Arousal gave way to frantic behavior. The air was filled with slaps of skin on skin, sighs, groans, and whimpers. The mattress shook and bounced with each action each of them took.
She had never known such fullness. She knew she should have been ashamed, she knew it was wrong, but all she could think about in that moment were the sensations. One man in, one man out, one man constantly in front of her... over and over until her body's nerves betrayed her and brought her closer and closer to what they needed so desperately she thought her insides would melt.
The man's cock in her mouth began to swell, growing impressively hard in a relatively short period of time.
She opened her eyes and looked up, preparing a comment to share with him as soon as she freed her mouth from its activities and was surprised to see another woman---another woman who was not his wife---standing on the bed in stocking-clad feet and her suit that she wore on television earlier that day with her husband.
The newcomer broke off the kiss with the standing man to smile down at her.
"If you're a good girl, Claudia Jean, I'll clean you up," she purred. Her grin stretched. "I bet the spin boys would love to see that."
At that, her orgasm rippled through her body and took her current lovers over the edge with her.
&&&&
TITLE: Working Out the Kinks
PAIRING: Doc Cottle/Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica)
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: 1744
WARNING: Sexual relations, using a TENS unit in an off-label fashion
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "electricity." Oh, and he's always going to be Jack to me. Sorry, I just can't call him Sherman. It's not gonna happen.
"Does that still hurt?"
Laura looked away from the doctor and nodded. She knew she shouldn't have gone overboard at the gym, but since she'd been given a new lease on life, she felt as if she had more energy to do the things she always wanted to do but never thought she could try.
Starbuck had warned her not to use too much weight, but she ignored the warning. She could feel the burning in her legs, she could feel the way her pulse raced... she had felt alive and she never wanted to stop experiencing the sensation.
"I told you---" Doc Cottle broke off and sighed. She looked up in time to see him pulling a cigarette from his lab coat's breast pocket. In a smooth, well-practiced movement, he put the long, narrow cylinder between his lips and brought up his lighter to set it afire. "Well, I guess an 'I told you so' would be wasted on you."
"Yes, it would," she replied.
"Well... I could give you something for the pain. A relaxant. We've still got some of those left. Keep 'em mainly for the pilots and deck crew, but I could spare a couple for you if---"
"I don't want any drugs."
The military physician sighed. "Of course you don't. If I told you to take it easy, would you?"
"Maybe," Laura said, as honestly as she could.
Doc Cottle exhaled a long, low cloud of smoke and then flicked the ashes off of his cigarette into a nearby metal dish.
"You make things damned difficult, you know."
Laura smiled. "You wouldn't like me if I were easy, Doctor."
He grunted, rolled his eyes and while heading towards the curtains, he signaled to her to remain on the gurney.
She obeyed, although it was more her curiosity pertaining to his behavior than her sense of obedience that kept her in place, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and under her yellowish johnny shirt.
When he returned, he was holding onto a plastic case that didn't seem to be too heavy, judging on the way it balanced in his hand.
"I might have something here that will help."
"What?"
"Transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation," he replied, sounding less professional than he probably should have. The cigarette butt and gruff tone didn't help his bedside manner any. "We'll use electricity and see if that'll get your leg muscles back in shape."
"They're in shape," she told him, a smile teasing her lips. "I've got great legs."
He snorted. "Yeah, well, Madam President, they're not working too great at the moment, so how about you let me give this a try?" he suggested. "Or else, next time they cramp up in a Quorum meeting, maybe Zarek'll massage the kinks out for you."
"Don't you dare joke about---"
"I'll joke about whatever I gods damn well please, young lady," he interrupted, earning a terse laugh from the woman on the bed. "And who says I'm joking?"
"Doctor..."
He flashed her a quick grin. "Yeah, I know. I wouldn't want to wash that creep's slime off, either."
"I didn't know you swung that way."
"I don't."
She grinned. "I know," she murmured. "I just like to pick on you."
"You'll give me a complex before we ever reach this frakking Earth you and the Admiral keep talking about," he muttered. "Now, lie back, would you? I'm going to set this up and put some electrodes on you."
Laura tensed. "Excuse me?"
"How else did you think I'd get electrical current into your muscles? Cut a wire down from the ceiling and zap you with it?"
She huffed. "Don't take that tone with me."
"I'll take whatever tone I want to take. This is my territory, missy, and you're my patient."
She huffed again, but when she saw that she wasn't getting any reaction from him, she sighed and leaned back so she was reclined against the thin mattress.
"Ass."
"Ow... you wound me with your words," he grumbled as he opened the kit and went to work.
A few minutes later, he had ascertained which muscles were bothering her the most and he applied the electrodes to specific spots along her thighs and calves.
"We'll just go one side at a time, alright?" he asked her. When she nodded, he said, "Tell me if it hurts or helps, Madam President."
"You've poked, prodded, and scanned my breasts... you've seen me sicker than I've ever been before in my life. Don't you think you could call me 'Laura?'"
"I'm the picture of professionalism."
Laura laughed. She was still laughing a little when he turned the machine on so her muscles began to contract and relax in time with the pulses; her laughter faded rather quickly as the electric current began to work its magic.
"Ohh," she breathed. "That's... different."
She had said 'different,' because each time the pad on the inside of her ankle sent current into her body, it traveled all the way up into her pelvic region. It caused her abdomen to tighten and relax, too, but not directly because of the electricity. She found its effect on her puzzling and it took a few more minutes, and more prompting from the doctor, to determine how she felt about the sensation.
"Good or bad?"
"Good... definitely good," she whispered.
Laura closed her eyes and tipped her head back. It was only on one side, but it was beginning to feel very, very good. She wondered if it was normal---or if her nerves had somehow mutated away from how they should normally behave.
"Any pain?"
"No... no bad pain," she breathed.
"Madam President? Bad pain?"
At the sound of the doctor's voice, more insistent than before, she opened her eyes and looked down at him. She felt her cheeks flush.
"Y'know... there's good pain and bad pain?" she said, hoping her explanation would suffice. When Doc Cottle continued to glare at her, she blushed more and tried to tell him more without embarrassing herself further. "Well... it's like... the contractions are good pain. I can feel it... it's not so sore? It... I mean, my leg. Can you do both at once? I'd hate to keep you from something else more important."
He gave her a nod but didn't look entirely convinced by anything she said.
When the current traveled up her other leg, she closed her eyes again. She exhaled slowly, accustoming herself with the sensations as they flitted up her legs' nerves and ended near her hips.
After a few minutes, the doctor must have increased the intensity of the electrical output because she felt her hips thrusting up in time to the strongest of the pulses.
"Oh... gods," she breathed, hissing a little. "Gods... yes."
The intensity increased again, until it was just short of being painful. Laura writhed and lost herself in the sensations. She reached up and fumbled for a hold on the corners of the gurney's mattress and when she finally gripped it, she used it for leverage as she rocked her body in time to its needs.
Another handful of minutes passed, and Laura reached down with one hand. She pressed her fingers over her abdomen, against her clit, and used the pressure to pushed herself into a climax that left her head feeling lighter than it had while under the effects of Chamalla.
The electric current faded from her body. She didn't process what that meant until she heard a lighter being flicked into operation.
He was still there.
"Do you want me to leave you alone with the controller box?"
Laura startled, flailing her arms and making contact with a tray stand as she sat up abruptly and pushed her legs tightly shut. The tray crashed, Ishay demanded to know if they were alright, Doc Cottle called back that they were.
She looked up at him with a flushed face. He was smoking and smirking a little around the edges of his mouth, the way a hungry-for-something-other-than-food man would.
"Enjoyed the show, did you, Doctor?" Laura asked after clearing her throat.
He nodded. "Absolutely, Madam President."
"Look, I think I just forgot myself and... if you could just---"
"How are you feeling?" he asked, cutting off her rambling request.
She took stock of her aches and pains and found they weren't as many as they had been before. Whether it was the orgasm or the electricity, she wasn't sure, but she was glad something had worked.
"I'm still a bit sore... not as bad, though."
He smirked more. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, we might try another type of pain management."
"Haven't we done enough already?" she inquired. Her heart rate was increasing; she sensed she knew what he was implying and her body was responding favourably to the suggestion despite her inhibitions.
"Pain management can be a tricky thing... hard to get right," he told her. "We could step into my office and I could give you a very thorough demonstration. Maybe a massage to start, and we'll take it from there."
Laura shivered. She saw the doctor's expression cloud over, as if he was suddenly afraid he had misread her and misbehaved. She smiled to ease his nerves.
"Only if you call me 'Laura.'"
"Only if you call me 'Jack.'"
"I saw on your military record that your name is really---"
"If you say it, I will walk out of here with this handy contraption."
Laura paused and pressed her lips together before smiling again.
"Alright. It's a deal."
"I'll just tell Layne I have a very important consult, and then I'll meet you in my office," he said.
He moved to walk past her but Laura caught his coat in her hand and tugged him close to her bedside. She kissed him, purring softly when he yielded to her unspoken demand and deepened the embrace.
When she pulled back, they were both smiling. She let out a little giggle of nervous energy and then whispered, "Maybe you should bring this stuff with you, in case there are any more kinks that need working out?"
"You read my mind," he replied, winking at her before he blew through the curtain in search of his aide.
&&&&
TITLE: Naked Day
PAIRING: Laura Roslin/Bill Adama (Battlestar Galactica)
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: 3210
WARNING: Sexual relations between two consenting adults
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "exhibitionism."
After the second day of sharing his quarters with her, Laura thought she was going mad. Not because Bill snored or deigned to leave his toenail clippings lying around, but because he seemed to be completely oblivious to her subtle flirtations.
She had hoped that when he offered her his private space as a change of scenery, he had been doing it to be closer to her and to spend more time with her---to help their friendship progress into something much more physically satisfying. She already cared deeply for him and she knew he cared for her (or else he would have left her back on Colonial One until cabin fever and loneliness cracked her mind), so unless he found her completely unattractive (which she doubted was the case based on her evidence of catching him watching her legs rather intently during meetings over the past few weeks) she did not understand why he didn't make a move.
Laura decided she would have to take matters into her own hands.
She had had a meeting with him and the Colonel at sixteen-hundred hours. She went back to the Admiral's cabin to change into her shorter skirt and new (well, not new, but new to her) green blouse; after running a hand through her hair she went to join them in the room chosen for their discussion.
It had gone as well as he could have hoped. Each time she crossed her legs or uncrossed her legs, Bill's eyes unfocused. His gaze would drop down to study her limbs. When she wriggled one foot out of her shoe and brushed her toes over her other foot, she saw him shift in his seat.
To her, he seemed to have a fascination with her lower extremities. She liked knowing (or thinking) that. She just wished she knew what to do with that information.
After their meeting, she went back to his quarters and dismissed Tory. She told her to take the night off, maybe go to the ship's makeshift bar, and have a little fun. She told her they all needed a little fun. She desperately wanted a lot of fun, but she didn't share that information with her aide.
Her Marine guards were standing outside of the hatch but it was closed. She was alone to sit and think up her next step in ensuring she got what she (and he, she suspected) wanted.
She didn't sit and think, though. She paced and thought, she paced and thought until she was sure she must've worn a path into the dense carpet and her head would explode at any given moment.
And after all the pacing, she flopped down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands.
She didn't have an idea. She wasn't sure how to initiate anything beyond their friendship with any sort of grace. She was frustrated, ready to go, but she didn't know how to get started without just plopping down in his lap and demanding that he take care of her other, very pressing needs---consequences be damned.
Laura giggled as she imagined the look on Bill's face if she did that.
Then, she wondered if she should just strip down in front of him and see how he would react.
She giggled more.
But, the idea, as silly as it was, stuck with her because (she'd only admit to herself that) it was exciting
She wondered if she was brave enough to bare herself to him, to surprise him with her lines, wrinkles, and pale, sunless skin. She thought it would be as subtle as dropping an anvil on his head---but she wasn't sure if it would be more successful.
Somehow, she ended up in the small bathroom, to catalogue the damage age had done to her body. She had cared for it as much as she could, but time had taken its toll on her skin. As she undressed, she revealed a couple of new scars from her time on New Caprica; she frowned as she rubbed her fingers over them and remembered how they came to be. She checked the way her muscles moved and the way her limbs appeared; she studied her weight, agonised over the little bumps and lumps under the skin around her thighs, and wished she had a neater bikini line. She wriggled her toes, wondered what Bill's fascination with them was about, bounced up onto the balls of her feet, and pondered if walking like that would make her legs seem even longer.
Richard had found her attractive---but she always thought that attraction had been more about the allure of the secret they shared and less about her physicality---and she knew Sean did, too---but she knew that was more about her being his former teacher and satisfying some sort of fantasy than anything else.
She knew she wasn't unfortunate-looking, but she wasn't sure why Bill would be attracted to her (if he was, because as much as she hoped and suspected, she would always have a nagging doubt that it was a platonic friendship on his side of things). She was smart. But, she could make so many mistakes. She was leggy, but not very busty, and her hair wasn't a true red but it wasn't a true brown. Her skin was too pale. She was old. She was dying again.
After twenty minutes of self-reflection, she had one question: Could she bare herself to him, even if he asked her to?
The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she could go through with it and what his reaction would be.
An image of a bewildered Bill in her mind didn't make her giggle anymore but it still made her smile a bit.
Maybe it would be an unprecedented disaster. Maybe he would tell her he was seeing someone else. Maybe he would hurry away from her, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
But, a quiet voice in the back of her mind piped up: Maybe he will stay and take care of you. Maybe he'll admit he feels the same way towards you that you do towards him. Maybe it will work.
She looked back to the mirror and sighed. She didn't know what to do.
Just as she was beginning to talk herself back into her clothes and out of the idea she'd had to get his attention, she heard the hatch opening. She heard voices---Bill's joined by the voice of one of her Marine escorts---and then she heard the hatch closing before there was silence (or quiet noises she couldn't hear through the bathroom's door).
"Laura?"
(She had finally gotten him used to calling him by her given name while they were roommates. It had only managed to become one of his habits a couple of days ago.)
"I'm in the bathro---I mean, I'm in the head. I'll be right out."
She cursed under her breath and then looked back into her reflection through her glasses.
"It's now or never, Laura," she muttered to herself, trying to psych herself up to go through with her ridiculous stunt.
She sighed and then straightened her shoulders and summoned the courage she used during those first few, very nerve-wracking Quorum meetings.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked, calling out to her.
"Sure," she replied.
Laura sucked in a sharp breath, prayed to the Gods, and then turned to open the bathroom door.
She saw his robe hanging on the wall.
Impulsively, she put it on but didn't tie the sash. Despite her insecurities, a desire to be seen by him---and to take a chance on their future---had strengthened. An instant later, she was walking out into the main rooms, the robe hiding but also revealing her bare body.
Bill looked up at her, two glasses in his hands. His face registered some sort of shocked emotion; his jaw went slack and his eyes widened.
One of the glasses onto which he was holding dropped and bounced off of a nearby chair. It spilled a gold-toned liquid across the carpet before rolling across the room.
Before he commented, he busied himself with picking up the errant tumbler. "What... what exactly... you could have put clothes on. No need to hurry out on my account."
She forced herself to smile and say the first thing that came to mind.
"I'm having a naked day," she told him.
"It's eighteen-hundred."
"A naked evening, then," she said with a shrug.
"You're wearing my robe."
She nodded. "Well, I got cold, Bill," she replied. "It's one of the downfalls of forgoing clothes."
"I... right." He stepped towards her with the remaining full glass offered out to her. "Here," he insisted. "Your drink."
"Thank you," she murmured. She smiled at him over her glasses and accepted the proffered beverage. She hummed appreciatively as she sipped it. "Are you going to join me?" she asked, motioning towards his empty cup.
Bill's brow furrowed and he quickly inhaled while averting his eyes to his hand. "Oh. Right. Yes. If you'd like the company."
"That's why I'm staying here," she reminded him.
He nodded jerkily and returned to the ledge where he stored his alcohol. He poured himself more than he had before and took a gulp of the drink before facing her again.
Bill's eyes traveled quickly over her attire (or lack thereof) and she felt more optimistic than she had earlier about their predicament. Something in the way his blue eyes darkened gave her hope to believe the attraction wasn't one-sided. She felt emboldened, ready to take the next step.
"How was your day?" she asked.
"It's taken an interesting turn."
She laughed softly, giggling a little bit near the end. "I'll bet."
"So, this naked day business," he said, "is it a one-time thing, or should I expect to see you like this more often?"
Laura shrugged. "Well, if it bothers you---"
"I didn't say that."
She smiled. "It's just so... freeing, you know?" she said, playing along with her scheme. "I mean, I wouldn't walk around like this in front of many people. Usually, just by myself. But, you caught me."
"I'd apologise, but I don't feel... entirely apologetic."
Her smile turned into a grin. He moved to the sofa and sat down.
At first, Laura's instinct was to get as close to him as she possibly could. She thought she could intimidate him into a flustered state and then into doing something about their proximity and her state of (un)dress. But, as she quickly raced through her options, she decided to sit a couple of feet away from him and let him look at her, if he wished to do so. She put her legs up on the coffee table and stretched out, resting her glass on her stomach as she looked at him.
"How long does naked day last?"
"As long as I feel like it," she replied.
He nodded. "Hmm... alright. I guess that makes sense."
Laura sipped her drink and as she lowered her glass, she shrugged her shoulder discretely to let the robe slip down her arm. One breast was partially exposed and the other was completely exposed. Her nipples were hard---from both nervousness and arousal---and she knew he could see that. As insecure as she was, there was something thrilling about her exposure.
She uncrossed her legs and wiggled her toes. Bill grunted quietly after swallowing some more of his alcohol.
"So... do you have big plans for tonight?" she asked.
"Some reports that need reviewing and my signature," he replied. "You?"
Laura nodded. "Tory left me some interview requests to go over. And there's another problem with self-made distilleries that could use some addressing. Apparently sick bay's had a few poisonings."
"Anything fatal?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing like that, but it does warrant some investigation."
"Did you talk to the Vice President about his requests for ship repairs?" Bill asked.
Laura sighed. "To be honest, I didn't go see him today. I didn't want to deal with him. Maybe tomorrow."
After draining the last drops of alcohol from her glass, she bent forward and set it on the low table. She had to move one of her legs to do it comfortably, and in doing so, she ended up spreading her thighs. It was unintentional, but after she realised what she had done, she decided not to correct her position.
"It's very liberating," she murmured.
"So you've said."
"Sometimes I can't stand to look at myself," she admitted. She shrugged. "But, this isn't about vanity. Just comfort."
"And liberation."
"Exactly," she agreed, smiling more.
Laura dropped her hands to her abdomen and patted a gentle rhythm out with her fingers.
"Is there a problem, Laura?"
She shook her head. "No... I'm just... putting off tonight's homework."
"Ah. Right."
Laura glanced at Bill and saw that his gaze was pretty focused on the apex of her thighs. She smothered a snort and looked away from him.
"Do you know if there's anyone on Galactica who can wax really well?" she asked.
The stress involved in asking the question was worth Bill's shocked cough.
"Wax... what, exactly?" he asked in a higher voice than before.
"Well," Laura said, pretending to study her pubic hair, "it's getting kind of out of hand. I do what I can with a razor, but... I mean, don't you just think it's in the way?"
Bill made a quiet, surprised noise but didn't say anything. Laura, feeling a little buzz from the drink and a huge rush from not being turned away immediately, proceeded with her impromptu subject matter.
"It's just... in the way," she said as she brushed her fingers through the curls and down over her folds. "I guess waxing it all off would be a little ridiculous because I'm of a certain age, but... I don't know. I'd just like to neaten it up."
"It doesn't look to be in the way," he said quietly.
Laura smiled and shook her head, but she didn't look at him. Instead, she used her thumb and middle finger to part her outer lips so she could stroke her index finger over her opening.
Bill cleared his throat.
"No... I guess it doesn't slow me down. But, some men---"
"Some men like to pretend they're with younger women. Some men should just thank their lucky stars they got that close to a good woman and should forget about the small stuff."
Laura turned to look at him again. "And which kind of man are you?" she asked quietly.
"One that likes a woman to be herself, hairs, freckles, scars and all."
His response made her stomach flutter.
She moved to withdraw her hand. She was ready to turn and face him and just ask what she wanted of him; she was ready to stop playing games with him and to just be honest with him, even if he might see through her charade.
But, as she pulled her fingers away from her slick skin, he quietly rumbled: "Don't stop."
Laura blushed and put her hand back down between her legs.
Her game had morphed into something else entirely.
She stroked herself slowly. She brought her thumb up and pressed it down in a circle around her bundle of nerves. Each touch made her want to whimper and turn towards him to ask him to participate with her, but she had a feeling that wasn't what he wanted from her.
"How does that feel, Laura?" he asked her.
"Really good," she whispered.
"Do you touch yourself like this a lot?"
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Then, she shook her head. "Only... only when I'm alone," she confessed, "and I'm not alone much."
"Now, that's not true. I heard you a few nights ago."
Laura's eyes popped wide open and she looked at him. "You... you heard me?" she squeaked.
"Frak, yes," he muttered. "I heard you under the covers in my rack. I was out here and I heard you."
"What did you do?" she asked.
"I stayed out here, on this couch, and I jerked myself off as I thought about you," he told her, no trace of shame in his voice.
"Show me," she whispered.
"Maybe... but first, I want to do something."
Before Laura could beg---"Something, anything!"---Bill leaned down and kissed her. She whimpered, tried to deepen the kiss, and then whimpered again as he backed away.
"You want me to show you what I did the other night?"
Laura nodded jerkily.
"You keep doing what you're doing then."
She smiled. "You'll show me yours if I show you mine?"
"Something like that," he agreed as he leaned back in his chair and unfastened his belt.
The President watched, transfixed, as he unbuttoned his uniform trousers and pulled his cock out of his shorts. He stroked himself to hardness (there really wasn't that much more to do, she discovered, since he was already most of the way stiff) and then he looked at her.
"You stopped."
Laura laughed quietly. "I got distracted."
"Well, you better fix that."
Their banter slowed but didn't fade as they touched and teased themselves. Laura's words got lost on moans and whimpers more than his but his sentences faded away in the middle than hers did.
She was so close. She could feel her muscles aching. A warmth had taken up residence in her abdomen, spreading up and out from those nerves she was exploiting.
"Bill, I---"
"Don't stop until you get off," he rasped.
She looked over at him and watched his face. There was a little sweat beading on his upper lip; his brow had furrowed in the middle, in some sort of reaction to his level of concentration.
"And then what?" she asked.
"And then, we're gonna rest up a bit... and try something else."
When he smiled, her thumb brushed over her clit again (and again) and her nerves seemed to explode. She cried out in surprise (because she really thought she had more staying power than that) as her orgasm sizzled through her.
She slowed her fingers, pumping slowly in and out as her hidden muscles twitched around them. As she did that, she watched Bill through her lashes and glasses. He was still stroking himself, twisting his hand a little over the head of his erection, but he was still looking at her, too, and she found that added to the excitement of what they were doing.
He groaned and tipped his head back. A second after breaking eye contact with her, he squeezed his cock and slightly thrust his hips upwards. She saw the result of his climax spurt up before landing on his fingers and dribbling over his skin.
"Gods... damn it," he whispered.
"Don't say that," she murmured. "I liked watching."
"Me, too," he admitted. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Would you object to me getting cleaned up and then letting me join you in your naked festivities?"
Laura grinned lazily and shook her head. Maybe her bold move would improve their situation, after all.
&&&&
TITLE: Fashion Fetish
PAIRING: Dot/Ellie (High Society)
RATING: strong arr
WORD COUNT: 1539
WARNING: Femslash
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "sensation play." I didn't exactly use fun bondage toys for this. Instead, since these ladies love clothes, I went with fashions. Hopefully it's okay for the prompt. // I used a Wikipedia article on the history of fashion to help me write this fic. I'm not really into designers... so some garments I had to make up. Some I was able to find online and describe.
When Ellie brushed the fabric against Dot's cheek, the brunette sighed and leaned into the silky smooth fabric.
"That's my vintage Dior," she murmured in a dreamy tone of voice.
"Right again!" Ellie crowed. "God, you're good at this!"
"I just love my clothes," she purred.
"Are you sure you can't see through that blindfold?"
Dot chuckled. "You mean one of my Hermès scarves?"
Ellie pouted. Even through the scarf wrapped around her neck, she knew her blonde friend was pouting. "Don't tell me you know which one," she mumbled.
"The gray one. I think it's called... Les éperons---"
"How---"
Dot smirked. "Only because I wore it last week, and I recognise the perfume on it."
"Damn it, you're smart!"
"Always, when it comes to fashion."
Ellie started to agree, but then, she stopped and said, "What about that Vivienne Westwood phase?"
"I looked rather attractive."
"I did like the skirt with the chains on it," Elle admitted.
Dot smiled and nodded. "I know you did. You kept trying to steal it on me."
"I wanted what's-his-name to have something to hold onto when we were dancing."
"Those chains did come in handy," the temporarily-blinded brunette said. "Now, c'mon, keep going---you haven't stumped me yet."
"Will I ever?" Ellie demanded. "I mean, come on, Dot. We're neck in neck for our fashion knowledge! We're necking!"
Dot hummed quietly and then tipped her head back a bit as she spoke. "Not since college, darling."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."
"I should be offended, I think," the brunette muttered.
"Hardly. It's mostly the bad ones I remember---even through the booze and pills!" Ellie exclaimed before a brief but loud laugh. "I'd take it as a compliment if I were you."
"Well, since I'm the only woman you've fooled around with, I guess I will do that. One less thing to discuss with my therapist."
Ellie touched her friend's shoulder. "Since when do you see a therapist?"
"Since they became the hottest celebrity accessory."
"Should I have one?"
Dot smiled and shook her head. "Ellie, I don't think you'd enjoy it. Talking about your feelings and your dreams... your problems..."
When the seated woman trailed off, the blonde responded quickly. "Problems? I don't have a date for tonight yet. My feelings? Tipsy, happy, confident, horny. Dreams? Oh, you know, that one where Kevin Costner takes me out dancing in a big field before stripping me down and taking me there in the grass while the wolves howl all around---"
"Hmmm... I really don't think Lieutenant Dunbar is your type."
"Who?"
Dot smiled. "That was his character in Dances With Wolves," she explained.
"Oh, right. Okay, okay, too much serious thought. On with the clothes!"
Ellie walked away from Dot's position in the room---blindfolded, on her vanity's chair---and towards the large, walk-in closet that they had been pawing through before the game had evolved into being their evening entertainment.
She brought another garment up to Dot's face. She couldn't touch with her hands because Ellie had been sure it would be too easy for her; but, as Dot continued to correctly guess all but one earlier chosen piece, Ellie wasn't sure what would make it more difficult.
"Mmm, I love the smell of leather," Dot murmured as she leaned forward and inhaled deeply. "Is this my Gucci blazer?"
"Damn it! Would you just work with me? Give me something I can work with! I'm trying to stump you!"
Dot grinned. "Y'know, I used to wear this jacket all by itself. It feels really nice against my skin."
"When?"
"When I was alone, obviously," Dot replied. "Try it, if you want."
"Does it get you off?" Ellie leered.
With a sweet, but devious, smile, Dot said, "Sometimes."
Ellie's gasp was one of astonishment. "Liar!"
The brunette laughed. "Like you don't get off when you wear a new pair of Manolo's," she teased.
"Hm. Good point. Y'know, maybe you need another degree of difficulty."
"I could always switch places with you and you could guess what clothes I'm bringing out for you," Dot suggested.
"I can barely remember what's in my own closet, let alone yours, Dot!"
Chuckling quietly, Dot shrugged and waited for her blonde friend to decide what the degree of difficulty would be.
After what seemed like fifteen minutes had passed, Dot spoke up: "You know, we do have to get ready for the party tonight."
"We've got plenty of time. Hmmm, okay. Get on the bed."
Dot snickered. "Ellie..."
"No, I'm going to test your feet instead! Less smells, less finger touching... and maybe then, I'll stump you!"
She humoured her friend and blindly rose to a standing position before walking with certainty the approximate seven feet from the chair to the bed. After she reclined against the pillows, she settled her silk robe around her legs and smiled.
"Ready?"
"Set."
"Time for fashion!" Ellie declared.
The next garment was an evening gown. Dot wasn't sure of the label on the first touch of the fabric against her toes, so she asked for a clue.
In reply, Ellie shifted her robe and brushed the inside of the dress against her knee.
"Mmmm... I'm thinking... champagne... those little spicy canapés... you flirting with the young waiter, me with that photographer from the W< fashion show. Must be my dark red Prada dress?"
"Did you sleep with that guy?"
"No, there was no sleeping involved."
Ellie's grin could be heard in her voice. "Good girl."
"I learn from the best."
"You could stand to practice what I teach more often, Dot," Ellie added. "You'd have a lot more fun."
Dot smiled. "I have all the fun I can manage. Besides, I live vicariously through you sometimes, too."
"What does that mean?"
"And I thought you were the writer," the brunette murmured. She shifted her legs as Ellie's hand resumed rubbing the fabric over her skin. "Ellie, darling, I already guessed what dress it is."
"I know."
"Are we going to be doing a little time traveling?" she asked quietly---hopefully, but trying not to let the emotion show.
Ellie's comment about her not remembering their secret tryst had hurt her feelings; if the chance was going to present itself, she wanted to see if she could redeem herself in Ellie's memory.
"Time travel?" Ellie echoed. "Oh, god, no. All that fumbling and the small bed with the crappy thread count sheets? No, no... now we have props and the best bedding money can buy."
"Was this whole game foreplay?" Dot inquired.
Ellie replied: "You know I can't plan that far ahead."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing."
"Well, darling, if you want me to enjoy this, you know I'll want to do something," Dot reminded her.
The bed moved. Ellie had moved off of it without saying anything. Dot, who had been relatively warmed by revisiting some of her favourite pieces in her closet, shifted her weight in anticipation of the possible change in their activities. She rubbed her legs together nervously and listened to her friend rummaging through her clothes.
"Ohhh... here's something," the blonde murmured.
She returned to the bed and sat down. Dot listened as she curled up next to her, moving whatever piece of clothing she had found on the racks.
Ellie slowly untied Dot's robe with one hand, her fingers making easy work of the loose knot, before that hand parted her robe and put her hand on Dot's stomach.
The brunette sucked in a quick breath. "Skin. Ellie. Circa nineteen-sixty---"
"Smartass."
"I'm smart all over," Dot murmured.
"Well, let's put that theory to the test, shall we?"
"Let's."
Ellie brushed something that felt like wool along Dot's abdomen, before trailing it up to smooth it along the underside of one of her breasts. The head of the publishing house sighed happily and rubbed her cheek against the pillow closest to her.
"Do you know what it is?" Ellie asked.
"I'm guessing it's my blue Chanel blazer," Dot replied quickly. "But, I'm not sure. Maybe you should give me another clue."
Ellie snickered as she brushed the blazer over both of Dot's breasts. She snickered again when Dot arched up into the touch.
"So, the blazer... that's your answer?"
"Yeah," Dot whispered on a breathy sigh.
The cool button on her nipple was the next thing she felt. She shivered and bit her lip as Ellie continued to tease her with the garment.
"God, this is so much better than college," Dot whispered.
"I've gotten better."
Dot chuckled. Her smile remained on her lips even as Ellie leaned down and kissed her.
"You think the game's over, or should we keep it up and see how much I can make you beg first?"
The brunette exhaled slowly. Then, she said, "I don't beg."
"Yeah, right."
"I might make demands... but I don't beg," Dot insisted.
Ellie snorted. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"
"Mmm, yes, please," Dot murmured as she writhed, settling into a comfortable position on the bed as Ellie moved over her and proceeded to test Dot's version of the truth.
&&&&
TITLE: Evening Routine
PAIRING: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica)
RATING: arr
WORD COUNT: N/A, it's fanart.
WARNING: Sexual activity between consenting adults; a mild form of a dominant/submissive relationship.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "obedience."
Click for larger image
&&&&
TITLE: At the Groundbreaking Ceremony
PAIRING: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
RATING: en.sea.xvii
WORD COUNT: N/A, it's fanart.
WARNING: Explicit language included in the image; part of a conversation between two consenting (and randy) adults.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone, so please don't sue me!
NOTES: For my Kink Bingo card. The prompt is "dirty talk." This is the extra one.
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