"Sorry is the Hardest Word" - Adama/Roslin Fic
Title: Sorry is the Hardest Word
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: R
Word Count: 613
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the "finish this story" prompt at about_time. Thanks to redrockcan for her beta.
There was only one way out of this mess.
Bill had been married long enough to know that the best way to defuse any argument was to admit his wrongdoings at the start.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry.” Repetition was also a good tactic.
“Sorry?” she repeated with disbelief. Her brow was arched so high it nearly disappeared under her auburn fringe.
“William Joseph Adama, I have four shirts in my possession to last me the rest of my life, and all you can say is sorry?” she glared daggers at him. Bill gulped audibly.
The front of his favourite white blouse was torn open, exposing her heaving breasts to his hungry eyes. Normally he would have found this picture to be incredibly sexy. Normally.
***
He had not seen her in four weeks, countless meetings and the reorganization of the government after the exodus had kept her busy aboard Colonial One. They had managed to sneak in the occasional personal phone call, but it was a poor substitute for the warm, soft curves of her body, for her rich, contagious laughter, for her eager and knowing touch. Four weeks and Bill Adama had been going absolutely crazy without her.
Tonight had been their first scheduled “meeting” in four weeks. While they did have some official business to attend to, Bill had hoped that she could clear her schedule for the night so that he could have the opportunity to show her just how much he had missed her.
She was barely through the hatch before they began making up for lost time. Lips, tongues, and hands eagerly and hungrily retraced favourite places on one another’s bodies, while they had stumbled, almost drunkenly, to his couch.
Once Bill had her pinned to the soft leather, he had wasted no time in shedding her jacket and burying his head in the soft curve of her neck and shoulder. She smelled so good; like the spices from the tea that she loved so dearly and the natural, womanly scent of her. Bill groaned his appreciation and continued his explorations further south until he encountered her breasts. Soft, pale, and beautiful; Bill grinned into her sensitive flesh and made to tug her shirt lower, to expose the rosy pink of her nipple to his loving caresses.
The first tug on the white shirt had been accompanied with a loud, tearing sound and an angry growl from his lover.
***
“I didn’t realize that it was so, so, flimsy,” he practically whined.
“Bill, it’s three years old! It’s been through two exoduses and genocides, of course it’s threadbare at this point!” she said exasperatedly. Bill frowned and hung his head. This was definitely not how he had imagined their night going.
“I just missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to see you again, to make love to you,” he said.
Laura sighed.
“I missed you too,” she admitted and his face lit up. She rolled her eyes affectionately at his boyish grin.
Uncrossing her arms, she allowed him to pull her to him in an apologetic embrace.
“You’re forgiven,” she sighed as he kissed her temple. “But don’t for a second think that I am ever wearing this shirt in public again.”
Pulling back slightly, he took a good look at the damaged garment again. The tops of her breasts were fully exposed, as was the top of her bra. He could see the evidence of her arousal through the thin material.
“This stays here, at home with me,” Bill growled possessively.
Sorry wasn’t really the hardest word after all, he surmised as he leaned in to capture her smirking lips in a kiss.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: R
Word Count: 613
Disclaimer: Not my characters or television show.
A/N: Written for the "finish this story" prompt at about_time. Thanks to redrockcan for her beta.
There was only one way out of this mess.
Bill had been married long enough to know that the best way to defuse any argument was to admit his wrongdoings at the start.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry.” Repetition was also a good tactic.
“Sorry?” she repeated with disbelief. Her brow was arched so high it nearly disappeared under her auburn fringe.
“William Joseph Adama, I have four shirts in my possession to last me the rest of my life, and all you can say is sorry?” she glared daggers at him. Bill gulped audibly.
The front of his favourite white blouse was torn open, exposing her heaving breasts to his hungry eyes. Normally he would have found this picture to be incredibly sexy. Normally.
***
He had not seen her in four weeks, countless meetings and the reorganization of the government after the exodus had kept her busy aboard Colonial One. They had managed to sneak in the occasional personal phone call, but it was a poor substitute for the warm, soft curves of her body, for her rich, contagious laughter, for her eager and knowing touch. Four weeks and Bill Adama had been going absolutely crazy without her.
Tonight had been their first scheduled “meeting” in four weeks. While they did have some official business to attend to, Bill had hoped that she could clear her schedule for the night so that he could have the opportunity to show her just how much he had missed her.
She was barely through the hatch before they began making up for lost time. Lips, tongues, and hands eagerly and hungrily retraced favourite places on one another’s bodies, while they had stumbled, almost drunkenly, to his couch.
Once Bill had her pinned to the soft leather, he had wasted no time in shedding her jacket and burying his head in the soft curve of her neck and shoulder. She smelled so good; like the spices from the tea that she loved so dearly and the natural, womanly scent of her. Bill groaned his appreciation and continued his explorations further south until he encountered her breasts. Soft, pale, and beautiful; Bill grinned into her sensitive flesh and made to tug her shirt lower, to expose the rosy pink of her nipple to his loving caresses.
The first tug on the white shirt had been accompanied with a loud, tearing sound and an angry growl from his lover.
***
“I didn’t realize that it was so, so, flimsy,” he practically whined.
“Bill, it’s three years old! It’s been through two exoduses and genocides, of course it’s threadbare at this point!” she said exasperatedly. Bill frowned and hung his head. This was definitely not how he had imagined their night going.
“I just missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to see you again, to make love to you,” he said.
Laura sighed.
“I missed you too,” she admitted and his face lit up. She rolled her eyes affectionately at his boyish grin.
Uncrossing her arms, she allowed him to pull her to him in an apologetic embrace.
“You’re forgiven,” she sighed as he kissed her temple. “But don’t for a second think that I am ever wearing this shirt in public again.”
Pulling back slightly, he took a good look at the damaged garment again. The tops of her breasts were fully exposed, as was the top of her bra. He could see the evidence of her arousal through the thin material.
“This stays here, at home with me,” Bill growled possessively.
Sorry wasn’t really the hardest word after all, he surmised as he leaned in to capture her smirking lips in a kiss.