"Penance" Adama/Roslin fic
Title: Penance
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: MA - for desk!sex
Disclaimer: I wish that I owned BSG but I don't.
A/N: written for the bsg_kink porn fest tonight. The prompts were, "Laura/Bill, legs, wet, Presidential desk, first time, comfort sex." In my mind, this is their reunion scene that we were cheated out of after Laura and the others were rescued from New Caprica.
His strong hands caressed her impossibly long legs, and she arched her back, surrendering to their loving worship. Her skin, parched dry after almost a year and a half on that frakking planet felt like pools of delicate fabric in his trembling hands. As he lowered his head to lavish her pebbled, dusky red nipple with attention she moaned incoherently; nearly bringing tears to his eyes as her melodic cries filled the air between them. Bill’s hand travelled further up her legs, easily flipping her flimsy skirt out of his way as eager fingers dipped between her thighs.
She was wet; so wet that the moment he came into contact with her silken heat a shudder wracked through his battle-worn body.
“Bill,” She sighed “Please, don’t make me wait any longer...” He could discern the desperation amidst her wanton request and guilt tore at his heart for having made her wait this long already.
Bill had always hoped that the first time he made love with Laura it would be paced luxuriously. He wanted to dance with her, to hold her in his arms as they swayed to the hypnotic beat of a sultry waltz. He wanted to slowly undress her, to strip each article of clothing off of her generous curves, to gently ease her back onto his rack, to spend hours memorizing every freckle, wrinkle, and curve that made up Laura Roslin. He wanted to burry his face between her legs, to worship her, kneel before her and offer her nothing but the most exquisite pleasure. He wanted to be inside of her, to merge his body with her own, he wanted to know what it was like to be so close to perfection. He wanted to see the elegant slope of her neck stretched back as she shuddered around him, as she took all his body could offer her.
Yet here they were, mere hours after the rescue of the New Caprican settlers, half sprawled, half leaning against the Presidential desk on Colonial One. He had come here first, he had needed to see her, to reassure himself that she was alive and well. Soon after he stepped into her former living space, lips, tongues, and fingers were soothing aches between them that words were simply too empty for. Her hands clutched at his back, his neck, his arms, as her nails scorched unforgiving truths into his flesh.
You abandoned me.
“Oh, Gods, Bill!” His thick digits slipped into her moist opening.
You abandoned us all.
“Ahh, Bill…Mmm…” She whimpered as he withdrew his fingers, and shrieked when they were replaced by his cock a moment later. “More….” Her teeth sunk into the skin above his collarbone and he groaned as he tipped his head back, offering his flesh to her as his absolution. Her legs tightened around his waist, urging his powerful thrusts to be harder, faster, deeper, as though if she willed it, she could lodge him permanently inside of her.
Laura’s incoherent pleas grew in intensity, the words were unintelligible; and in that moment he realized his truth. She was his prophet, his leader, his priestess, his goddess, and he clung to her nonsensical ramblings and her half formed words as they made up the scripture of his heart.
“Laura” He choked out as he willed his body to ignore his own selfish desires.
“Mmm, so…close…” A moment later, her head snapped back, her glorious mane tumbled around her shoulders, tickling the center of her arched back. He felt her convulse around him, felt the imprints of her heels as they moulded bruises into his lower back, felt the insurmountable joy that filled his heart at the realization that he was here, finally, with her. As she spiralled downwards, back towards their gritty reality, he emptied himself inside her depths, crying his love for her against her breast. Her hands, trembling still from her ordeal, clutched at the sides of his face, her green eyes probed their blue counterparts before she dipped her head to claim his mouth; her tongue was relentless, harsh, demanding. The wet heat of her mouth, the lush texture of her tongue branded him, indentured him permanently into servitude.
When she finally released his mouth, he pulled her into a crushing embrace, breathing his devotion into the crock of her neck.
“I love you.” I love you. I love you. I love you. The words fell in time with each kiss he bestowed onto her flesh.
“I forgive you.” She breathed, knowing in her heart that those three words meant more to him than a literal confession of her love.
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Rating: MA - for desk!sex
Disclaimer: I wish that I owned BSG but I don't.
A/N: written for the bsg_kink porn fest tonight. The prompts were, "Laura/Bill, legs, wet, Presidential desk, first time, comfort sex." In my mind, this is their reunion scene that we were cheated out of after Laura and the others were rescued from New Caprica.
His strong hands caressed her impossibly long legs, and she arched her back, surrendering to their loving worship. Her skin, parched dry after almost a year and a half on that frakking planet felt like pools of delicate fabric in his trembling hands. As he lowered his head to lavish her pebbled, dusky red nipple with attention she moaned incoherently; nearly bringing tears to his eyes as her melodic cries filled the air between them. Bill’s hand travelled further up her legs, easily flipping her flimsy skirt out of his way as eager fingers dipped between her thighs.
She was wet; so wet that the moment he came into contact with her silken heat a shudder wracked through his battle-worn body.
“Bill,” She sighed “Please, don’t make me wait any longer...” He could discern the desperation amidst her wanton request and guilt tore at his heart for having made her wait this long already.
Bill had always hoped that the first time he made love with Laura it would be paced luxuriously. He wanted to dance with her, to hold her in his arms as they swayed to the hypnotic beat of a sultry waltz. He wanted to slowly undress her, to strip each article of clothing off of her generous curves, to gently ease her back onto his rack, to spend hours memorizing every freckle, wrinkle, and curve that made up Laura Roslin. He wanted to burry his face between her legs, to worship her, kneel before her and offer her nothing but the most exquisite pleasure. He wanted to be inside of her, to merge his body with her own, he wanted to know what it was like to be so close to perfection. He wanted to see the elegant slope of her neck stretched back as she shuddered around him, as she took all his body could offer her.
Yet here they were, mere hours after the rescue of the New Caprican settlers, half sprawled, half leaning against the Presidential desk on Colonial One. He had come here first, he had needed to see her, to reassure himself that she was alive and well. Soon after he stepped into her former living space, lips, tongues, and fingers were soothing aches between them that words were simply too empty for. Her hands clutched at his back, his neck, his arms, as her nails scorched unforgiving truths into his flesh.
You abandoned me.
“Oh, Gods, Bill!” His thick digits slipped into her moist opening.
You abandoned us all.
“Ahh, Bill…Mmm…” She whimpered as he withdrew his fingers, and shrieked when they were replaced by his cock a moment later. “More….” Her teeth sunk into the skin above his collarbone and he groaned as he tipped his head back, offering his flesh to her as his absolution. Her legs tightened around his waist, urging his powerful thrusts to be harder, faster, deeper, as though if she willed it, she could lodge him permanently inside of her.
Laura’s incoherent pleas grew in intensity, the words were unintelligible; and in that moment he realized his truth. She was his prophet, his leader, his priestess, his goddess, and he clung to her nonsensical ramblings and her half formed words as they made up the scripture of his heart.
“Laura” He choked out as he willed his body to ignore his own selfish desires.
“Mmm, so…close…” A moment later, her head snapped back, her glorious mane tumbled around her shoulders, tickling the center of her arched back. He felt her convulse around him, felt the imprints of her heels as they moulded bruises into his lower back, felt the insurmountable joy that filled his heart at the realization that he was here, finally, with her. As she spiralled downwards, back towards their gritty reality, he emptied himself inside her depths, crying his love for her against her breast. Her hands, trembling still from her ordeal, clutched at the sides of his face, her green eyes probed their blue counterparts before she dipped her head to claim his mouth; her tongue was relentless, harsh, demanding. The wet heat of her mouth, the lush texture of her tongue branded him, indentured him permanently into servitude.
When she finally released his mouth, he pulled her into a crushing embrace, breathing his devotion into the crock of her neck.
“I love you.” I love you. I love you. I love you. The words fell in time with each kiss he bestowed onto her flesh.
“I forgive you.” She breathed, knowing in her heart that those three words meant more to him than a literal confession of her love.