FIC: Industrious Angels
Title: Industrious Angels
Summary: Elysium is as far as to the very nearest room.
Rating: M
Genre: PWP, Smut, Romance, Drama, Angst
Setting: Post-Home II
Word Count: 1,100
A/N: Written for the bsg_kink challenge--Reunion Sex
~*~Bill watched Laura slip out of the hanger. The cheers had died away; she’d given her thanks and scant energy to the assembly; now she wanted to be alone.
He found her in the observation lounge, framed before the great window, looking out across the starscape.
“Plotting our course?” he rasped in the darkness.
She didn’t turn to him or seem startled. Only her thin white hands tightened their grip on her upper arms.
“Thinking,” she said.
He came to her side. “Hoping?”
“Praying,” she admitted, and he twitched at the word.
“Thank you,” she said, “For that.” She jerked her head towards the hatch as though everything outside belonged to him.
“Least I could do,” he pointed out dryly.
She didn’t reply. He stared out at the stars too/they were back on Earth in that field of whispering, waving grass/he hadn’t wanted to return.
Suddenly, she was on him, her hot mouth on his gasping one, her narrow hands at his throat as though she’d kill him if he didn’t kiss her back.
Not that he had any such thoughts.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she growled after ripping her mouth free just as quickly as she’d started the kiss.
“I won’t,” he said, not even sure which of his crimes she meant.
She told him: “Don’t let some frakkin’ Cylon kill you.”
Pressing her ear to his chest, Laura listened to his heart beat. “I should have tossed that Sharon out the airlock just like I threatened.”
He burrowed his fingers in her hair to bring her closer. He could put her in his heart if he pushed hard enough.
“It wasn’t that one,” he protested, ignoring that his own hands had been around Sharon’s neck with the same fervored thoughts on his mind.
“I had to crawl though bullet fire just to make sure they’d closed you up,” she said, “And you didn’t even know I was there--“
“I knew.”
She shoved back from him, her lovely mouth in a snarl. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. You’re not the only ones with visions, you know,” he confessed, grabbing the sides of her face to stare into her bleary eyes. “I went away from this cold bucket, and I sat on the beach, waiting to see if I’d get on the ferry or not.” He hated to admit this, never would even tell Saul, but he’d tell the woman who saw snakes.
Her mood changed again, and she turned her face to kiss his palm.
He kept talking, rambling, letting go. “And you came and frakked me on the sand, so I chose not to die.” She’d worn red; someday he wanted to see this Laura in a red dress.
“That’s all it takes?” she said, dissembling his dress grays; unhooking his sash, working on the buttons of his tunic. “Men are so simple sometimes.”
“Yeah,” he gasped, deciding this was going to happen for real, not some heavy sedation-induced spiritual journey/wish fulfillment. Or at least, she was going to let him touch her skin, and she was going to touch his skin. He yanked her blazer off her shoulders and tugged her blouse open. “And you aren’t.”
Unhooking her bra, he buried his face between her breasts, so plump against the sharp ridges of her collarbone. “Why, Laura? Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered around her nipple.
“Would it have made a difference?” she said, ripping open his fly.
“Yes, gods, yes,” he murmured, leading her back with him to one of the lounges.
She said, “That’s why then,” pushing up his tanks to stare, just stare, at his scar.
She touched it tentatively, and the Galactica slowed to half speed, panting along with Adama.
Her gaze met his in the dark. “I don’t wanna to break your heart.”
“I climbed a frakkin’ mountain to find you, Laura Roslin. Frakkin’ you is gonna be a walk in the park.”
He was wrong, so damn wrong.
She rooted in his boxers like a bargain shopper on the night before Winter Solstice, finding her prize and rubbing it hard, too hard, but Bill couldn’t protest.
She hissed, “Why didn’t you frak me down on Kobol, dammit, Bill, I wanted you to do it, why the frak would I sit around in the cold for hours unless I wanted you?”
When was the last time he’d had to read a woman’s signals? Too long it seemed, but fortunately Laura was giving clear signs now. He pushed her over roughly and yanked her skirt up, her panties down, the time-honored fire drill.
Mouth back at her breasts, he let his fingers warm things up--hot, hot, way too hot already, she coiled and hissed around his touch like a sizzling shred of bark being eaten alive by the campfire’s flames. He said, between suckling her nipples, “I didn’t want the kids to see.”
She clawed at his hip, drawing blood, pulling him towards where his fingers were. “Bill Adama, you’re such a fuddy-duddy sometimes.”
He rocked into the cradle of her thighs, smoothing her hair off her face with a shaking hand. Looking down into her features so that he could watch every little change as he pushed in, in, in-- “You’re not, are you, Laura?”
Her first gasp was a mean laugh. “No, I’m not,” she threatened. Maybe she would kill him after all.
He tried to go slow. “Don’t want to hurt you--“ he puffed.
She roiled under him, desperate and furious, pushing up against his cock, his barrel chest with the long seam; she tore at his uniform until he thought she’d rip the sleeves right off.
“I don’t break,” she swore at him with the rage of an old one-eyed sailor.
So he took her word for it and pounded into her until the couch groaned like an aged wooden ship. Her head tossed back, her smile glorious, alight from within.
“Yes, yes, just like that,” she approved, slapping his bare ass, each blow sharper than the next, whipping her horse to the finish line. She was already there, arms flung over her head in victory, her screams of joy reverberating in his ears.
He collapsed, just under the tape, and his heart flapping erratic and hysterical as a sail torn in the storm. Her eyes still wild, Laura pressed her ear to his chest, checking the rhythm. In all seriousness, she said, “You’re alive,” almost sounding disappointed.
He tugged her chin up to look into her eyes, smoothing her skirt down with the other hand. “And you’ll live,” he demanded.
She dropped her gaze from his.
The end
Summary: Elysium is as far as to the very nearest room.
Rating: M
Genre: PWP, Smut, Romance, Drama, Angst
Setting: Post-Home II
Word Count: 1,100
A/N: Written for the bsg_kink challenge--Reunion Sex
~*~Bill watched Laura slip out of the hanger. The cheers had died away; she’d given her thanks and scant energy to the assembly; now she wanted to be alone.
He found her in the observation lounge, framed before the great window, looking out across the starscape.
“Plotting our course?” he rasped in the darkness.
She didn’t turn to him or seem startled. Only her thin white hands tightened their grip on her upper arms.
“Thinking,” she said.
He came to her side. “Hoping?”
“Praying,” she admitted, and he twitched at the word.
“Thank you,” she said, “For that.” She jerked her head towards the hatch as though everything outside belonged to him.
“Least I could do,” he pointed out dryly.
She didn’t reply. He stared out at the stars too/they were back on Earth in that field of whispering, waving grass/he hadn’t wanted to return.
Suddenly, she was on him, her hot mouth on his gasping one, her narrow hands at his throat as though she’d kill him if he didn’t kiss her back.
Not that he had any such thoughts.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she growled after ripping her mouth free just as quickly as she’d started the kiss.
“I won’t,” he said, not even sure which of his crimes she meant.
She told him: “Don’t let some frakkin’ Cylon kill you.”
Pressing her ear to his chest, Laura listened to his heart beat. “I should have tossed that Sharon out the airlock just like I threatened.”
He burrowed his fingers in her hair to bring her closer. He could put her in his heart if he pushed hard enough.
“It wasn’t that one,” he protested, ignoring that his own hands had been around Sharon’s neck with the same fervored thoughts on his mind.
“I had to crawl though bullet fire just to make sure they’d closed you up,” she said, “And you didn’t even know I was there--“
“I knew.”
She shoved back from him, her lovely mouth in a snarl. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. You’re not the only ones with visions, you know,” he confessed, grabbing the sides of her face to stare into her bleary eyes. “I went away from this cold bucket, and I sat on the beach, waiting to see if I’d get on the ferry or not.” He hated to admit this, never would even tell Saul, but he’d tell the woman who saw snakes.
Her mood changed again, and she turned her face to kiss his palm.
He kept talking, rambling, letting go. “And you came and frakked me on the sand, so I chose not to die.” She’d worn red; someday he wanted to see this Laura in a red dress.
“That’s all it takes?” she said, dissembling his dress grays; unhooking his sash, working on the buttons of his tunic. “Men are so simple sometimes.”
“Yeah,” he gasped, deciding this was going to happen for real, not some heavy sedation-induced spiritual journey/wish fulfillment. Or at least, she was going to let him touch her skin, and she was going to touch his skin. He yanked her blazer off her shoulders and tugged her blouse open. “And you aren’t.”
Unhooking her bra, he buried his face between her breasts, so plump against the sharp ridges of her collarbone. “Why, Laura? Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered around her nipple.
“Would it have made a difference?” she said, ripping open his fly.
“Yes, gods, yes,” he murmured, leading her back with him to one of the lounges.
She said, “That’s why then,” pushing up his tanks to stare, just stare, at his scar.
She touched it tentatively, and the Galactica slowed to half speed, panting along with Adama.
Her gaze met his in the dark. “I don’t wanna to break your heart.”
“I climbed a frakkin’ mountain to find you, Laura Roslin. Frakkin’ you is gonna be a walk in the park.”
He was wrong, so damn wrong.
She rooted in his boxers like a bargain shopper on the night before Winter Solstice, finding her prize and rubbing it hard, too hard, but Bill couldn’t protest.
She hissed, “Why didn’t you frak me down on Kobol, dammit, Bill, I wanted you to do it, why the frak would I sit around in the cold for hours unless I wanted you?”
When was the last time he’d had to read a woman’s signals? Too long it seemed, but fortunately Laura was giving clear signs now. He pushed her over roughly and yanked her skirt up, her panties down, the time-honored fire drill.
Mouth back at her breasts, he let his fingers warm things up--hot, hot, way too hot already, she coiled and hissed around his touch like a sizzling shred of bark being eaten alive by the campfire’s flames. He said, between suckling her nipples, “I didn’t want the kids to see.”
She clawed at his hip, drawing blood, pulling him towards where his fingers were. “Bill Adama, you’re such a fuddy-duddy sometimes.”
He rocked into the cradle of her thighs, smoothing her hair off her face with a shaking hand. Looking down into her features so that he could watch every little change as he pushed in, in, in-- “You’re not, are you, Laura?”
Her first gasp was a mean laugh. “No, I’m not,” she threatened. Maybe she would kill him after all.
He tried to go slow. “Don’t want to hurt you--“ he puffed.
She roiled under him, desperate and furious, pushing up against his cock, his barrel chest with the long seam; she tore at his uniform until he thought she’d rip the sleeves right off.
“I don’t break,” she swore at him with the rage of an old one-eyed sailor.
So he took her word for it and pounded into her until the couch groaned like an aged wooden ship. Her head tossed back, her smile glorious, alight from within.
“Yes, yes, just like that,” she approved, slapping his bare ass, each blow sharper than the next, whipping her horse to the finish line. She was already there, arms flung over her head in victory, her screams of joy reverberating in his ears.
He collapsed, just under the tape, and his heart flapping erratic and hysterical as a sail torn in the storm. Her eyes still wild, Laura pressed her ear to his chest, checking the rhythm. In all seriousness, she said, “You’re alive,” almost sounding disappointed.
He tugged her chin up to look into her eyes, smoothing her skirt down with the other hand. “And you’ll live,” he demanded.
She dropped her gaze from his.
The end