[Fic] The Agency: Troubles Compounded
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The President's Ball
Rating: M
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Author's Note: For summary, category, disclaimer and warnings, see Chapter One. Just a short little set-up chapter ... though I'm fairly certain you'll appreciate this one despite it's length.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The President’s Ball
When Bill entered Laura’s suite, he was still twitching in the tuxedo. It made him uncomfortable and Dee’s proclamation of “You look very handsome, Sir,” had done nothing to put him at ease. One would think after so many years in the heavy wool of a Fleet uniform, and now in the suits he wore daily, he’d be fine in the tux, but the damn thing was making him feel like an overgrown monkey.
His eyes sought Laura the moment he walked in and he stopped dead in his tracks, only several paces within the door. She had one hand braced on her kitchen counter as she reached down to put her shoes on and she hadn’t even looked at him yet. Good thing, too, because he was struggling to breathe.
Her hair was up, pinned elegantly to the top of her head and exposing the length of her neck. His twitching became localized to a single appendage. Gods, he wanted to lick her from collarbone to ear, see what that creamy flesh tasted like.
Eyes traveling lower he knew he’d have to get a hold of himself before he turned into a drooling fool, but the sight of her in the slinky red dress, the material clinging to her curves perfectly, a good portion of cleavage pleasantly exposed and a slit up the leg that was positively pornographic had him feeling like a teenager who couldn’t control his body’s responses.
Without warning, he was thrust head first into a fantasy of epic proportions: Bending her over the counter, sucking at her neck and Gods, she tasted fantastic, fingers sliding up the flesh the slit in the dress revealed, so smooth and perfect, tearing her underwear from her body because he just could not wait, his other hand hurriedly undoing the fastenings on his trousers and getting them out of the way.
He’d stop then, because their first time wouldn’t be like this, not when he wanted desperately to see her face, to watch the heat crawl up her neck, to know what he was doing to her just by looking at her. Spinning her and pulling her against him, backing her into the wall, fingers drifting to the apex of her thighs and damned if just that one touch - and the moan he’d get from her, because she’d moan and hum and drive him into insanity - wasn’t enough to make him believe in the Gods.
Her taking control, because he knew she would at some point, nimble fingers surrounding his cock and stroking with practiced ease, just enough to have him spiraling towards the ledge of a cliff there was no coming back from before she hiked one of them frakking incredible legs around his waist, the heel of those shoes digging into his ass, lifting herself, dropping herself. Frakking liquid heat that made his head spin as he found himself encapsulated inside of her, certain that he was about to spontaneously combust because he’d never felt anything so frakking fantastic for as long as he’d lived …
Bill snapped himself out of it by sharply clearing his suddenly dry throat. The fantasy had been brief, but so real that he was feeling the effects physically, his dick straining inside his boxers painfully. He tried to calm down by telling himself the scenario wasn’t even possible, as his aging knees wouldn’t be able to take the strain of sex against the wall as well as his ego would like to believe they would. But …
Damned if he didn’t want her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
When he lifted his gaze again, he was startled to meet her eyes, amusement clearly shining in them, her mouth quirked in a way that said she knew exactly where his mind had been drifting to. And after she looked him up and down - he shifted uncomfortably and hoped that his pants were hiding his erection - her eyes resting on his again, a glance that told of mutual attraction was shared.
To hell with the frakking government and the bomb and that psycho Cylon and her puppy-dog scientist. Frak it all, he was staying in tonight and she was damned well staying with him.
“Well?” she questioned, twirling for his inspection.
You look so good in that dress that I won’t even be taking it off when I frak you, was one of the many unseemly thoughts that passed through his mind. Instead of voicing it though, he carefully cleared his throat again and told her, “That’s a nice color on you.”
She frowned somewhat and then her eyes shifted to just beyond his shoulder. “Billy?”
Bill hadn’t even heard him come in and really hoped he hadn’t been there while he was having knee-weakening mind sex with the kid’s surrogate mother.
From a few steps behind him, Billy told her, “You look, um, nice?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Nice? If I didn’t know for a fact that you knew absolutely nothing about women, Wilhelm Keikeya, I’d be terribly offended.” Then her gaze shifted to Bill. “As for you, well, you’ve the rest of the evening to suitably compliment me.”
Oh, he certainly would. Whisper the filthiest of things in her ear about how damn sexy she was as he drove into her - -
He shook himself and forcefully reminded his wandering mind: Mission. Bomb. Cylon. Dead government. Nasty things and not the good kind.
Bill and Billy followed her from the room, through her office and into the antechamber where Dee was sitting at her desk, reading through the material Billy had provided her with.
“You must be Miss Dualla,” Roslin formerly greeted, moving over to shake the younger woman’s hand. “I’m Laura Roslin.”
Dee rose from her chair and rounded the desk in a hurry, her back military straight. “The Director, yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll be out for the night, obviously,” she started, glancing at Bill in a way that seemed to say, Hopefully, we’ll be home, “So I’m sure you and Billy can get all the basics covered on what will be expected of you.”
Dualla gestured to the stack of paper on her desk. “Already working on it, ma’am.”
Laura nodded. “Good.”
She opened her mouth to say more but was cut off with the loud arrival of Kara Thrace. “Woah-ho, Madame D, you are smokin’.”
Lee was trailing in behind her and Bill thought both of them looked very smart. His son seemed to have had no problem with his bow tie, the young man looked impeccable, and Kara’s blue dress was lovely. Putting out of his mind for a moment the reason they were actually all dressing up so nicely, Bill smiled at the sight of them.
“You clean up rather nice yourself, Starbuck,” Laura responded with a smirk.
“She’d be a proper lady if she could learn to shut up,” Lee quipped, moving to stand in front of the Director. “You, ma’am, look beautiful.”
With a raised eyebrow and a reproachful look at Bill and Billy, she replied, “At least there’s one man in this office who knows how to talk to a lady like a gentleman.”
Then she looked at the other three in formal clothing very seriously. “Everyone ready for this?” The mood turned grim, but they nodded. “Good.”
~~~~~~~~~~
There was an open bar. He’d considered staying away from it, as he was on the clock and the alcohol they were serving was not only the really good stuff, but the really potent stuff as well. But Bill had never been a mingler and he’d looked and felt out of place standing beside the food table.
Not to mention that watching Laura walk in on Wally Gray’s arm had him hankering for a whiskey. He sipped at the beverage and scanned the room carefully. So far, he didn’t see a sign that anything was out of place, which was frustrating because he knew there was.
Socialites chatted about the trivial things that such people occupied their lives with; Admiral’s and higher up Fleet officials - all of whom he’d avoided all night - had had their medals and pips pompously polished; and there was more back door politicking than Bill could throw a stick at. And while all this turned his stomach, he’d yet to see hide nor hair of the terrorist plot that had required their presence.
Elsewhere in and outside of the building, there were agents milling around, discreetly searching, but so far nothing. Bill felt useless. He was pretty sure nothing of import would be in the main ballroom. It wasn’t like the Cylon would have the bomb stashed inside the cake that was due to be wheeled in within an hour, as baking high explosives wasn’t the best of ideas. So what the frak were they doing exactly?
Laura had said they were to keep their eyes open for anything suspicious. Anything at all that might lead them to the location of the bomb, might help them find Baltar and his Cylon. With a frustrated sigh, Bill took a long sip of the whiskey and stared around the room again.
Other than being pissed at how low that particular Quorum members hands were on Laura’s back, he didn’t see anything. He turned back to the bar, but before he could order another drink - probably not the best of ideas, really - the phone in his pocket started vibrating.
He pulled it out and looked at the screen. While it looked like the average portable phone that most people in the Colonies carried these days, it was special Agency equipment. The line was continuously scrambled, only other Agency phones were able to connect to it, there was a code he had to input into it to use it, and the single tap of one button sent out an emergency signal.
Now if only he could find the button that opened messages.
A slender arm wound over his shoulder and tapped the button, the voice on the other end of it telling him in an amused tone, “This one.”
He gave Laura half a smile, but it dropped the moment he read the message. “Just got a hit off the locals. Baltar and his special friend have been spotted.”
Laura subtly tapped at her ear. “Apollo, you hear that?” In both their ear-pieces was an affirmative response. “You and Starbuck get your asses out of here. Call into the office, get the location and move out. Patch yourselves through to the locals on the way, make sure they sit on them.”
“Already heading for the door, ma’am,” Lee responded.
“Try and keep them alive,” she ordered. “We need to know what they’ve done with the bomb.”
Another affirmative response and then the line cut out and Bill met her eyes. “Looks like we’re catching a break.”
“Hopefully it won’t be the last of the night.”
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Rating: M
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Author's Note: For summary, category, disclaimer and warnings, see Chapter One. Just a short little set-up chapter ... though I'm fairly certain you'll appreciate this one despite it's length.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The President’s Ball
When Bill entered Laura’s suite, he was still twitching in the tuxedo. It made him uncomfortable and Dee’s proclamation of “You look very handsome, Sir,” had done nothing to put him at ease. One would think after so many years in the heavy wool of a Fleet uniform, and now in the suits he wore daily, he’d be fine in the tux, but the damn thing was making him feel like an overgrown monkey.
His eyes sought Laura the moment he walked in and he stopped dead in his tracks, only several paces within the door. She had one hand braced on her kitchen counter as she reached down to put her shoes on and she hadn’t even looked at him yet. Good thing, too, because he was struggling to breathe.
Her hair was up, pinned elegantly to the top of her head and exposing the length of her neck. His twitching became localized to a single appendage. Gods, he wanted to lick her from collarbone to ear, see what that creamy flesh tasted like.
Eyes traveling lower he knew he’d have to get a hold of himself before he turned into a drooling fool, but the sight of her in the slinky red dress, the material clinging to her curves perfectly, a good portion of cleavage pleasantly exposed and a slit up the leg that was positively pornographic had him feeling like a teenager who couldn’t control his body’s responses.
Without warning, he was thrust head first into a fantasy of epic proportions: Bending her over the counter, sucking at her neck and Gods, she tasted fantastic, fingers sliding up the flesh the slit in the dress revealed, so smooth and perfect, tearing her underwear from her body because he just could not wait, his other hand hurriedly undoing the fastenings on his trousers and getting them out of the way.
He’d stop then, because their first time wouldn’t be like this, not when he wanted desperately to see her face, to watch the heat crawl up her neck, to know what he was doing to her just by looking at her. Spinning her and pulling her against him, backing her into the wall, fingers drifting to the apex of her thighs and damned if just that one touch - and the moan he’d get from her, because she’d moan and hum and drive him into insanity - wasn’t enough to make him believe in the Gods.
Her taking control, because he knew she would at some point, nimble fingers surrounding his cock and stroking with practiced ease, just enough to have him spiraling towards the ledge of a cliff there was no coming back from before she hiked one of them frakking incredible legs around his waist, the heel of those shoes digging into his ass, lifting herself, dropping herself. Frakking liquid heat that made his head spin as he found himself encapsulated inside of her, certain that he was about to spontaneously combust because he’d never felt anything so frakking fantastic for as long as he’d lived …
Bill snapped himself out of it by sharply clearing his suddenly dry throat. The fantasy had been brief, but so real that he was feeling the effects physically, his dick straining inside his boxers painfully. He tried to calm down by telling himself the scenario wasn’t even possible, as his aging knees wouldn’t be able to take the strain of sex against the wall as well as his ego would like to believe they would. But …
Damned if he didn’t want her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
When he lifted his gaze again, he was startled to meet her eyes, amusement clearly shining in them, her mouth quirked in a way that said she knew exactly where his mind had been drifting to. And after she looked him up and down - he shifted uncomfortably and hoped that his pants were hiding his erection - her eyes resting on his again, a glance that told of mutual attraction was shared.
To hell with the frakking government and the bomb and that psycho Cylon and her puppy-dog scientist. Frak it all, he was staying in tonight and she was damned well staying with him.
“Well?” she questioned, twirling for his inspection.
You look so good in that dress that I won’t even be taking it off when I frak you, was one of the many unseemly thoughts that passed through his mind. Instead of voicing it though, he carefully cleared his throat again and told her, “That’s a nice color on you.”
She frowned somewhat and then her eyes shifted to just beyond his shoulder. “Billy?”
Bill hadn’t even heard him come in and really hoped he hadn’t been there while he was having knee-weakening mind sex with the kid’s surrogate mother.
From a few steps behind him, Billy told her, “You look, um, nice?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Nice? If I didn’t know for a fact that you knew absolutely nothing about women, Wilhelm Keikeya, I’d be terribly offended.” Then her gaze shifted to Bill. “As for you, well, you’ve the rest of the evening to suitably compliment me.”
Oh, he certainly would. Whisper the filthiest of things in her ear about how damn sexy she was as he drove into her - -
He shook himself and forcefully reminded his wandering mind: Mission. Bomb. Cylon. Dead government. Nasty things and not the good kind.
Bill and Billy followed her from the room, through her office and into the antechamber where Dee was sitting at her desk, reading through the material Billy had provided her with.
“You must be Miss Dualla,” Roslin formerly greeted, moving over to shake the younger woman’s hand. “I’m Laura Roslin.”
Dee rose from her chair and rounded the desk in a hurry, her back military straight. “The Director, yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll be out for the night, obviously,” she started, glancing at Bill in a way that seemed to say, Hopefully, we’ll be home, “So I’m sure you and Billy can get all the basics covered on what will be expected of you.”
Dualla gestured to the stack of paper on her desk. “Already working on it, ma’am.”
Laura nodded. “Good.”
She opened her mouth to say more but was cut off with the loud arrival of Kara Thrace. “Woah-ho, Madame D, you are smokin’.”
Lee was trailing in behind her and Bill thought both of them looked very smart. His son seemed to have had no problem with his bow tie, the young man looked impeccable, and Kara’s blue dress was lovely. Putting out of his mind for a moment the reason they were actually all dressing up so nicely, Bill smiled at the sight of them.
“You clean up rather nice yourself, Starbuck,” Laura responded with a smirk.
“She’d be a proper lady if she could learn to shut up,” Lee quipped, moving to stand in front of the Director. “You, ma’am, look beautiful.”
With a raised eyebrow and a reproachful look at Bill and Billy, she replied, “At least there’s one man in this office who knows how to talk to a lady like a gentleman.”
Then she looked at the other three in formal clothing very seriously. “Everyone ready for this?” The mood turned grim, but they nodded. “Good.”
~~~~~~~~~~
There was an open bar. He’d considered staying away from it, as he was on the clock and the alcohol they were serving was not only the really good stuff, but the really potent stuff as well. But Bill had never been a mingler and he’d looked and felt out of place standing beside the food table.
Not to mention that watching Laura walk in on Wally Gray’s arm had him hankering for a whiskey. He sipped at the beverage and scanned the room carefully. So far, he didn’t see a sign that anything was out of place, which was frustrating because he knew there was.
Socialites chatted about the trivial things that such people occupied their lives with; Admiral’s and higher up Fleet officials - all of whom he’d avoided all night - had had their medals and pips pompously polished; and there was more back door politicking than Bill could throw a stick at. And while all this turned his stomach, he’d yet to see hide nor hair of the terrorist plot that had required their presence.
Elsewhere in and outside of the building, there were agents milling around, discreetly searching, but so far nothing. Bill felt useless. He was pretty sure nothing of import would be in the main ballroom. It wasn’t like the Cylon would have the bomb stashed inside the cake that was due to be wheeled in within an hour, as baking high explosives wasn’t the best of ideas. So what the frak were they doing exactly?
Laura had said they were to keep their eyes open for anything suspicious. Anything at all that might lead them to the location of the bomb, might help them find Baltar and his Cylon. With a frustrated sigh, Bill took a long sip of the whiskey and stared around the room again.
Other than being pissed at how low that particular Quorum members hands were on Laura’s back, he didn’t see anything. He turned back to the bar, but before he could order another drink - probably not the best of ideas, really - the phone in his pocket started vibrating.
He pulled it out and looked at the screen. While it looked like the average portable phone that most people in the Colonies carried these days, it was special Agency equipment. The line was continuously scrambled, only other Agency phones were able to connect to it, there was a code he had to input into it to use it, and the single tap of one button sent out an emergency signal.
Now if only he could find the button that opened messages.
A slender arm wound over his shoulder and tapped the button, the voice on the other end of it telling him in an amused tone, “This one.”
He gave Laura half a smile, but it dropped the moment he read the message. “Just got a hit off the locals. Baltar and his special friend have been spotted.”
Laura subtly tapped at her ear. “Apollo, you hear that?” In both their ear-pieces was an affirmative response. “You and Starbuck get your asses out of here. Call into the office, get the location and move out. Patch yourselves through to the locals on the way, make sure they sit on them.”
“Already heading for the door, ma’am,” Lee responded.
“Try and keep them alive,” she ordered. “We need to know what they’ve done with the bomb.”
Another affirmative response and then the line cut out and Bill met her eyes. “Looks like we’re catching a break.”
“Hopefully it won’t be the last of the night.”
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