Danger: High Voltage
They hadn’t moved, sitting companionably thigh to thigh under the tarp above them. The wind kept up, causing the sound of constant rustling to flutter through the encampment. A few brave souls ventured over to them - Tyrol to express his sympathy over the loss of Elosha, Billy hunkered down beside them for almost a half-hour, telling light-hearted tales of just how many times he had gotten lost on Galactica in the past week in an effort to distract her from Elosha’s memory. She allowed him to think it worked, and loved him all the more for it.
Eventually Kara and Lee came by to speak to Bill, and she attempted to get up and leave. Bill’s hand on her leg - shockingly warm even through the thick fabric of her pants stilled her. “Stay.” It was a simple word, uttered with no preamble but she felt its significance in her very soul. His voice travelled through her, rumbling up through her leg, skittering across her core and settling low in her abdomen where it ignited a burning sensation. Good Gods, had he always had that tone of voice? How had it never done this to her before? It wasn’t as if he had never touched her before - he had. And she had felt a slight tingle upon those touches - but she had pushed the sensation away, ignoring it for a multitude of reasons, none of which she could quite articulate. But this - this electrified buzzing singing through her veins, this heady intoxicated feeling from one word and a soft touch - this was too intense to ignore. Her leg still burned though he had removed his hand long ago, turning to speak to Kara and Lee.
She heard none of their conversation around her - couldn’t absorb it above the buzzing in her ears and the warmth spreading through her like wildfire. She clutched Elosha’s book tightly in her hands, trying to absorb some of the coolness of the leather cover in a failing effort to distract her mind and body.
“Madame President?!” Lee’s voice finally pierced through the haze, and she blinked, smiling slightly as she looked up into his concerned face.
“Yes, Captain Apollo?” Her voice seemed to be coming from somewhere outside of her own body, distant and hazy, and he frowned deeper.
“Are you alright, ma’am? You seemed a bit - you look a bit flushed. How are you holding up?” His voice was hesitant, cautious, as he slowly circled the secret that was no longer a secret and she frowned, pressing the book tighter against her chest until it stung - bringing a fleeting clarity.
“I’m fine. Fine. A bit tired,” she amended upon seeing three sets of disbelieving eyes land on her at her initial words.
“We’ll go - we drew first watch anyway, right Lee?” Kara spoke significantly, and Lee shot her a frown before nodding slowly.
“Uh, yeah. See you at 03:00, Dad.” They stood slowly and left the area, moving over to the campfire about ten yards away.
“Did you want to rest?” His hand was brushing her leg again and she drew in a sharp breath as the charge filled her body, gripping her in a painfully erotic shock, zinging across her skin until it fuelled the heat into spreading further. She squirmed slightly, only to bite back a moan when the seam of her jeans pressed against her intimately. “Laura?” His voice - and face - was concerned, and she shifted again, unable to stop her errant hips from circling, twitching against the delicious pressure of fabric and the rough sensation of his voice, soft against her ears. She moaned again, lower this time, and covered the sound by shifting forward onto her knees and crawling up to his side. She settled next to him - a touch too close, her shoulder against his, hip to hip, thigh to thigh and took a few calming breaths before responding to him.
“It’s been a long day, but I’m a bit too keyed up to sleep,” she murmured, her voice so low he had to lean into her, his breath tickling her ear as he tried to catch her words. The glow from the fire in the distance threw Kara and Lee’s faces into harsh relief, but all around them the shadows were lengthening as the sun sank past the point of any daylight and the few stars peeking through the heavy clouds cast barely any light over the encampment.
“I’m sorry about Elosha.” His voice was soft, just as soft as hers - but she felt his words more deeply somehow, and she placed the book to her right, pressing her hands to her mouth in an attempt to stymie the cries that suddenly lodged there. His arms were around her before she could choke back the sound, and she only fought him for a moment before sinking her face into his shoulder, pressing her cheek to the rough fabric of his jacket and barely managing to keep the tears at bay. She breathed in and out in deep, even breaths, crushing her breasts to his arm with each one - each intake of vital air bringing with it the heady scent of him, invading her senses. He smelled so damn good that her choked cries lessened a bit, into lower octave moans as she realized his hands were running up and down along her back soothingly.
His fingers slipped. Slipped on the upstroke during one pass when he smoothed too far down and his fingertips pushed under her coat and shirt, electricity arcing between her skin and his, shocking her to her very core. He froze, but she moaned again, pressing herself along the length of him, into him, unable to face his eyes but letting her body language do the talking. It was a mistake. Something she’d - and possibly he’d - regret tomorrow. A moment of weakness, but she was so tired of being the strong one - so tired of being alone. He had barely recovered from open-heart surgery, she had cancer and it should have been the last thing on her mind, but the touch of this man’s skin against her, the scent of him surrounding her, made her curious.
She was inquisitive by nature - she loved to learn new things, and oh Gods, how she wanted to learn every inch of Bill Adama. The taste of him, the feel of him - the weight of him on her, if his hands could be as gentle as they could be rough, if his mouth could map out every secret place on her skin, if his tongue could savour her.
“Laura....”
“Bill...” she repeated teasingly, but in a much lower voice than his, honeyed tones dripping with pheromones. She felt his palm flatten against her lower back and circle - once, twice. It stilled then and she shivered, pressing her hips into his as best she could from her awkward angle, and finally she lifted her head and met his gaze.
Deadly voltage burning cyan bright and she said nothing, did nothing but feel the weight of his gaze in her skin like a physical touch, felt a pleasant discomfort at the apex of her thighs as she shifted slightly, knowing that her decision was already made - had been from the moment he had touched her. He should come with a warning label, but she would have ignored the signs anyway - she always did choose the inappropriate in her personal life. If she couldn’t have it, she wanted it. If someone told her no, she made it her mission to hear them say nothing but yes. She was a strong woman, aware of her own sexuality and how to use it. She didn’t wait for anything, and now was no exception as she pushed against the force of his eyes, hers never leaving his as she angled her head and pressed her mouth against his.
He remained still for a moment, not moving or breathing as she ran her tongue against his lips, but when he did move he moved everything all at once. His arms swept up under her shirt, two hands pressed against her back as he pressed forward, his tongue darting into her own surprised mouth and sweeping over and under hers as he stole her breath, swallowing it into his own lungs and exhaling it back into her. Her back was against the ground and she couldn’t remember falling or being carried, but his weight was over her and now - oh Gods, now his hands were moving, lightning fast as they traced over her ribs, down her stomach, skirting along the waist of her jeans, and she gasped, forgetting to breathe, forgetting anything except the sure fact that she was about to spontaneously combust at any moment.
Her mouth broke from his with a gasp - much-needed oxygen dragged in far too quickly and her vision darkening from the effort. The night was so dark, she couldn’t see him in front of her, but she could feel him everywhere, his hands tracing slowly across her stomach as she shivered, and his mouth trailing along the underside of her jaw, up to her ear. His breath was hot there, ragged bursts of sound that sent shivers across her skin - and she felt hot, too hot - too hot to -
“Hot,” she gasped the word, panted it against the pitch black as she threw her head back and her hands clutched at his shoulders. He must have been unzipping her coat before she had even spoken, because cool night breeze filtered between them as she helped him push the garment down her arms and he shoved it higher, under her head before his hand returned to her body. He traced along her shoulder, delicately, as if it was skin and not cotton beneath his fingertips - over her clavicle and down her breastbone, barely brushing against her breasts, but she arched into the touch anyway, her moans becoming more high-pitched and frenzied.
“Shhh.” His whisper was kissed into her skin as he unbuttoned her blouse in an achingly slow fashion - each inch of exposed skin explored by his needy mouth and ignited by his treacherous tongue. When he reached the fourth button, exposing the tops of her breasts, his mouth whispered along them, feather-light and twice as sensitive for it - she began breathing his name, in and out of her lungs like the word itself was more important for her survival than the oxygen it was wrapped in.
“Bill.” Her hands reached, strained to touch anything they could, his back, his shoulders, winding themselves in his hair before she slammed them into the tarp below her in frustration as he continued his slow descent, button by button, agonising second by agonising second. She finally reached between them, around his own hands and head, grasping for the zip on his cumbersome coat. His fingers were there in an instant, helping her as she dragged the zip down slowly before frantically pushing the material off him. Once divested of his coat, she pulled off her now fully-opened blouse - and he slid back up her skin, his mouth retracing his previous path as she gasped at the sensation of his body heat sinking into her through nothing but two thin cotton tanks. Soon even they were too much, and her hands snaked down his back, slipping up and under the soft material, her nails dragging lightly against his back as she pulled them over his head in one swift movement.
His eyes met hers and she paused, absorbing the liquefying shock as her fingers lightly traced down his chest, following the angry scar there for only one moment before meeting his gaze again and lifting her own torso off the ground, rising up to press her skin against his. They both exhaled softly when their skin connected, and stayed there for a moment before she reached behind her back, deftly undoing the clasp of her bra and tossing that last remaining barrier aside as well.
“You’ve done the up, Commander, now time to do the down.” Her voice was barely a breath that carried from her lips to his ears and she heard his groan as his hands slid reverently down her body, pausing at her breasts and weighing each one in his hand, rolling the nipple there painfully as she bit down on his shoulder to prevent herself from crying out. He drew in a sharp breath, took one moment for the caress to turn into a probe, searching until he found the lump there - his eyes meeting hers as she stared back unflinchingly. Unspoken accusations passed between them - him to her and her to him, neither backing down until he lowered his head there, pressing a kiss just above it before moving his mouth over her nipple and drawing it in as her own hands flew over her mouth in an attempt at silence.
His tongue circled lightly at first, then drew more deeply, suckling and pressing against the underside of her breast until she was arched so high to meet him, only her hips and shoulders were touching the canvas. “Gods, Bill.” It was a plea, a prayer, and a provocation all at once. He lifted his head just long enough for her to see the flash of his smile in the dark before he moved over to the other breast, licking it as well before blowing cool air gently across it and watching as her nipple stiffened and peaked under the heat of his gaze. His head moved lower, tongue tracing the lines of her waist until he hit jean, and she was already pushing her boots off - fighting against the laces but they finally fell: one, two. His hands were on the button of her pants, fingers brushing lightly against the skin there as he dragged that zipper down, down, down - and her hands helped his as she shoved the heavy material down her legs, kicking it off with his help. His hand ran up the length of her leg, his palm sliding against her skin, ankle to calf, calf to knee, knee to thigh and - “Oh Gods!”
She bit her lip so hard she felt the coopery tang of blood bloom on her tongue, but she welcomed the pain - so different from the pleasure he was evoking with nothing but the palm of his hand. His mouth slid against her hips, nipping lightly on one side and then the other as she writhed beneath him. His fingers finally slid under the cotton waistband of her underwear, winding through the curls there like a lone explorer off to discover new land.
One finger only, delving past her waist, dipping down into her very center as he parted the folds there and slid it against her - pressure, pressure , pressure and oh Gods, it seemed so bright suddenly. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him in her mind, cocky grin and burning blue, skin so dark against hers so white, and it was such a lovely image that when she looked down the length of her own body, she swore she could see it. Her hands moved over her own skin as she pressed her hips up, up, up - begging for release, begging for confinement, just begging for whatever he was willing to give as her palms brushed against her own nipples and his gasp told her he was watching.
She smiled then, a feral little grin that curled within her like smoke leading to what was sure to be a raging inferno - her hand tracing where his mouth has just passed, down, down, down until her fingers brushed against his - landing on top of his hand and pushing down even harder there - showing him just how hard and soft and hard she liked it. His moans were the ones she shushed now as his fingers tangled with his, and it was no longer his hand and her hand but their hands, their touches, their caresses driving both of them to the point of madness and beyond. She was close - so close, achingly close - when she dragged both of their hands back. Fingers still entangled as she sat up, leaning over and pushing him back, she brought their entwined hands up by her face where she kissed each finger, his and hers, her tongue tracing across their combined skin and his groans urging her on.
“I like mutuality.” Her whisper was not heard by anyone but him, and her fingers left his as her mouth descended on him - drawing his lips to hers, pressing her tongue against his as she gave him a preview of her taste - light and sensual as she pressed against him, her hands sneaking down to fumble with his belt and pants. When she finally got them undone, her overly-eager hands dove under the waistband of his boxers, grasping him, thick and heavy in her hand. She pressed her weight on top of him, her palm grinding against his length as her hips stroked up and down slowly and her mouth never left his, her tongue repeating the same slow tortuous action.
He may have moaned her name - she wasn’t sure, but her hand tightened around his length, fingers sliding up and over the head as he gasped, and she lifted her mouth from his to grin down at him in the dark. “Mutuality,” she repeated, both hands pushing his pants down before she lifted herself from him, turning her head toward his feet as she pushed the offending clothes as far down as she could. She rose back up, keeping her body inverted to his, pausing for a moment over his groin as she took in the sight of him - stiff and silken, aching to be touched. Her hands ran down his length gently, light and teasing as she lowered her mouth just over him and breathed there for a moment.
“Laura….” It was her name this time, low and guttural, the sound sending tiny shocks all the way down her body, and as her tongue darted out, one small lick, just to taste, his own hands traced up her inner thighs, pulling one leg up and over his shoulder, and she giggled once before his fingers spread her apart and slid along the wetness there, the laughter dying in her throat. She slid her tongue down the length of him in retaliation, pressing against the shaft in a languorous motion before moving it back up again and enveloping him slowly into her mouth. His hiss was hot against her skin, an intense breeze across her sensitive flesh, and soon his tongue was mimicking her own, skimming across her folds lightly even as his fingers worked above his mouth, pressing against the bundle of nerves there as she hummed deep in her throat. His hips bucked and she moved her head up and down in a waltzing motion, quick, quick, slow - and the slow was so, so slow. His hips twitched below her, and she gripped them in her hands - pressing him down into the tarp as she surged forward, taking every inch of him she could. “Laura.” It was a pant, hot breath across cool wet, and she barely registered it when his fingers slid inside her, hooking slightly and pressing up, up and up until he hit just the right spot and she began losing her pacing, the quick, quick, slow dissolving into quick, quick, quicker as she tasted the salty tang of him sweeping through her mouth and felt her inner walls clenching against his hands.
She rose up swiftly, sitting straight up and rolling over before he could even register how close she had come - dancing along the razor edge of pleasure. She rolled over to face him, her hands frantically running all over him, anywhere she could touch as she pressed kisses along his neck, jaw, cheek, nose, settling on his mouth and tasting herself there in an intoxicating rush. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her up and over him before pulling her down smoothly, sheathing himself in her in one quick motion as they both hissed out a breath, their mouths breaking apart as the need for oxygen became paramount.
His pushed his hips up, driving just that much farther, and her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as she concentrated every single cell of her being on not screaming aloud, on not making any noise, on not shouting his name like it was the solution to life itself. They lay still for a moment, savouring the fullness before her agitation kicked in and her hips ground against his restlessly. She breathed in short shallow breaths - needing to pant, gasp, writhe and scream but unable to do anything other than draw in shallow breaths, exhaling them just as quickly as she set the pace above him, swift and sloppy. He lifted his hips to meet each thrust, and she ground against his in a counterpoint, eliciting that extra bit of pressure as she lowered her face to his shoulder, pressing it there to muffle her whimpers.
Higher and higher and faster and faster - until her teeth sank into his skin, marking him as she sobbed her release silently into him, tasting his blood, sour with sweat and sweet with her as he rose once, twice more, and she ceased to exist. She felt a haze settle over her, floating above him as she cried out soundlessly, the dark exploding with splinters of blue and white.
His own moans he buried into her hair, his hand clutching her hips bruisingly as he found his own release. She lay on top of him, her skin bonded to his as they each fought to pace their breathing - in and out, quick, quick, slow. She could feel his lips against her temple as sounds flooded back into their vacuum of space, soft voices and discussions all around them as she laughed weakly, breathing unsteadily in his ear. She wanted to say something - anything about just how this moment felt, such sweet release after such intense pressure, - but in the end, she pressed equally soft kisses to his cooling skin, tasting salt and blood and sweat and tears. Like so many things, she knew he didn’t need it to be said. He knew. She knew.
So she lay there, listening to the murmurs around them and his newly-repaired heart thudding calmly under her ear, as the breeze continued to dance around them, fluttering against the tarps, its gentle rustle crinkling above them, masking their laboured breathing.
She felt his arms around her, shifting her to the left as he dragged a blanket over them, and she laid her head on his chest, the sound breeze and his even breathing lulling her to sleep.
“I forgive you, Bill.” She mumbled the words slowly, and his chuckle rumbled through her, him to her, her to him - but it was a low buzz now, the voltage down to acceptable levels.
“Thank you, Laura.”
Eventually Kara and Lee came by to speak to Bill, and she attempted to get up and leave. Bill’s hand on her leg - shockingly warm even through the thick fabric of her pants stilled her. “Stay.” It was a simple word, uttered with no preamble but she felt its significance in her very soul. His voice travelled through her, rumbling up through her leg, skittering across her core and settling low in her abdomen where it ignited a burning sensation. Good Gods, had he always had that tone of voice? How had it never done this to her before? It wasn’t as if he had never touched her before - he had. And she had felt a slight tingle upon those touches - but she had pushed the sensation away, ignoring it for a multitude of reasons, none of which she could quite articulate. But this - this electrified buzzing singing through her veins, this heady intoxicated feeling from one word and a soft touch - this was too intense to ignore. Her leg still burned though he had removed his hand long ago, turning to speak to Kara and Lee.
She heard none of their conversation around her - couldn’t absorb it above the buzzing in her ears and the warmth spreading through her like wildfire. She clutched Elosha’s book tightly in her hands, trying to absorb some of the coolness of the leather cover in a failing effort to distract her mind and body.
“Madame President?!” Lee’s voice finally pierced through the haze, and she blinked, smiling slightly as she looked up into his concerned face.
“Yes, Captain Apollo?” Her voice seemed to be coming from somewhere outside of her own body, distant and hazy, and he frowned deeper.
“Are you alright, ma’am? You seemed a bit - you look a bit flushed. How are you holding up?” His voice was hesitant, cautious, as he slowly circled the secret that was no longer a secret and she frowned, pressing the book tighter against her chest until it stung - bringing a fleeting clarity.
“I’m fine. Fine. A bit tired,” she amended upon seeing three sets of disbelieving eyes land on her at her initial words.
“We’ll go - we drew first watch anyway, right Lee?” Kara spoke significantly, and Lee shot her a frown before nodding slowly.
“Uh, yeah. See you at 03:00, Dad.” They stood slowly and left the area, moving over to the campfire about ten yards away.
“Did you want to rest?” His hand was brushing her leg again and she drew in a sharp breath as the charge filled her body, gripping her in a painfully erotic shock, zinging across her skin until it fuelled the heat into spreading further. She squirmed slightly, only to bite back a moan when the seam of her jeans pressed against her intimately. “Laura?” His voice - and face - was concerned, and she shifted again, unable to stop her errant hips from circling, twitching against the delicious pressure of fabric and the rough sensation of his voice, soft against her ears. She moaned again, lower this time, and covered the sound by shifting forward onto her knees and crawling up to his side. She settled next to him - a touch too close, her shoulder against his, hip to hip, thigh to thigh and took a few calming breaths before responding to him.
“It’s been a long day, but I’m a bit too keyed up to sleep,” she murmured, her voice so low he had to lean into her, his breath tickling her ear as he tried to catch her words. The glow from the fire in the distance threw Kara and Lee’s faces into harsh relief, but all around them the shadows were lengthening as the sun sank past the point of any daylight and the few stars peeking through the heavy clouds cast barely any light over the encampment.
“I’m sorry about Elosha.” His voice was soft, just as soft as hers - but she felt his words more deeply somehow, and she placed the book to her right, pressing her hands to her mouth in an attempt to stymie the cries that suddenly lodged there. His arms were around her before she could choke back the sound, and she only fought him for a moment before sinking her face into his shoulder, pressing her cheek to the rough fabric of his jacket and barely managing to keep the tears at bay. She breathed in and out in deep, even breaths, crushing her breasts to his arm with each one - each intake of vital air bringing with it the heady scent of him, invading her senses. He smelled so damn good that her choked cries lessened a bit, into lower octave moans as she realized his hands were running up and down along her back soothingly.
His fingers slipped. Slipped on the upstroke during one pass when he smoothed too far down and his fingertips pushed under her coat and shirt, electricity arcing between her skin and his, shocking her to her very core. He froze, but she moaned again, pressing herself along the length of him, into him, unable to face his eyes but letting her body language do the talking. It was a mistake. Something she’d - and possibly he’d - regret tomorrow. A moment of weakness, but she was so tired of being the strong one - so tired of being alone. He had barely recovered from open-heart surgery, she had cancer and it should have been the last thing on her mind, but the touch of this man’s skin against her, the scent of him surrounding her, made her curious.
She was inquisitive by nature - she loved to learn new things, and oh Gods, how she wanted to learn every inch of Bill Adama. The taste of him, the feel of him - the weight of him on her, if his hands could be as gentle as they could be rough, if his mouth could map out every secret place on her skin, if his tongue could savour her.
“Laura....”
“Bill...” she repeated teasingly, but in a much lower voice than his, honeyed tones dripping with pheromones. She felt his palm flatten against her lower back and circle - once, twice. It stilled then and she shivered, pressing her hips into his as best she could from her awkward angle, and finally she lifted her head and met his gaze.
Deadly voltage burning cyan bright and she said nothing, did nothing but feel the weight of his gaze in her skin like a physical touch, felt a pleasant discomfort at the apex of her thighs as she shifted slightly, knowing that her decision was already made - had been from the moment he had touched her. He should come with a warning label, but she would have ignored the signs anyway - she always did choose the inappropriate in her personal life. If she couldn’t have it, she wanted it. If someone told her no, she made it her mission to hear them say nothing but yes. She was a strong woman, aware of her own sexuality and how to use it. She didn’t wait for anything, and now was no exception as she pushed against the force of his eyes, hers never leaving his as she angled her head and pressed her mouth against his.
He remained still for a moment, not moving or breathing as she ran her tongue against his lips, but when he did move he moved everything all at once. His arms swept up under her shirt, two hands pressed against her back as he pressed forward, his tongue darting into her own surprised mouth and sweeping over and under hers as he stole her breath, swallowing it into his own lungs and exhaling it back into her. Her back was against the ground and she couldn’t remember falling or being carried, but his weight was over her and now - oh Gods, now his hands were moving, lightning fast as they traced over her ribs, down her stomach, skirting along the waist of her jeans, and she gasped, forgetting to breathe, forgetting anything except the sure fact that she was about to spontaneously combust at any moment.
Her mouth broke from his with a gasp - much-needed oxygen dragged in far too quickly and her vision darkening from the effort. The night was so dark, she couldn’t see him in front of her, but she could feel him everywhere, his hands tracing slowly across her stomach as she shivered, and his mouth trailing along the underside of her jaw, up to her ear. His breath was hot there, ragged bursts of sound that sent shivers across her skin - and she felt hot, too hot - too hot to -
“Hot,” she gasped the word, panted it against the pitch black as she threw her head back and her hands clutched at his shoulders. He must have been unzipping her coat before she had even spoken, because cool night breeze filtered between them as she helped him push the garment down her arms and he shoved it higher, under her head before his hand returned to her body. He traced along her shoulder, delicately, as if it was skin and not cotton beneath his fingertips - over her clavicle and down her breastbone, barely brushing against her breasts, but she arched into the touch anyway, her moans becoming more high-pitched and frenzied.
“Shhh.” His whisper was kissed into her skin as he unbuttoned her blouse in an achingly slow fashion - each inch of exposed skin explored by his needy mouth and ignited by his treacherous tongue. When he reached the fourth button, exposing the tops of her breasts, his mouth whispered along them, feather-light and twice as sensitive for it - she began breathing his name, in and out of her lungs like the word itself was more important for her survival than the oxygen it was wrapped in.
“Bill.” Her hands reached, strained to touch anything they could, his back, his shoulders, winding themselves in his hair before she slammed them into the tarp below her in frustration as he continued his slow descent, button by button, agonising second by agonising second. She finally reached between them, around his own hands and head, grasping for the zip on his cumbersome coat. His fingers were there in an instant, helping her as she dragged the zip down slowly before frantically pushing the material off him. Once divested of his coat, she pulled off her now fully-opened blouse - and he slid back up her skin, his mouth retracing his previous path as she gasped at the sensation of his body heat sinking into her through nothing but two thin cotton tanks. Soon even they were too much, and her hands snaked down his back, slipping up and under the soft material, her nails dragging lightly against his back as she pulled them over his head in one swift movement.
His eyes met hers and she paused, absorbing the liquefying shock as her fingers lightly traced down his chest, following the angry scar there for only one moment before meeting his gaze again and lifting her own torso off the ground, rising up to press her skin against his. They both exhaled softly when their skin connected, and stayed there for a moment before she reached behind her back, deftly undoing the clasp of her bra and tossing that last remaining barrier aside as well.
“You’ve done the up, Commander, now time to do the down.” Her voice was barely a breath that carried from her lips to his ears and she heard his groan as his hands slid reverently down her body, pausing at her breasts and weighing each one in his hand, rolling the nipple there painfully as she bit down on his shoulder to prevent herself from crying out. He drew in a sharp breath, took one moment for the caress to turn into a probe, searching until he found the lump there - his eyes meeting hers as she stared back unflinchingly. Unspoken accusations passed between them - him to her and her to him, neither backing down until he lowered his head there, pressing a kiss just above it before moving his mouth over her nipple and drawing it in as her own hands flew over her mouth in an attempt at silence.
His tongue circled lightly at first, then drew more deeply, suckling and pressing against the underside of her breast until she was arched so high to meet him, only her hips and shoulders were touching the canvas. “Gods, Bill.” It was a plea, a prayer, and a provocation all at once. He lifted his head just long enough for her to see the flash of his smile in the dark before he moved over to the other breast, licking it as well before blowing cool air gently across it and watching as her nipple stiffened and peaked under the heat of his gaze. His head moved lower, tongue tracing the lines of her waist until he hit jean, and she was already pushing her boots off - fighting against the laces but they finally fell: one, two. His hands were on the button of her pants, fingers brushing lightly against the skin there as he dragged that zipper down, down, down - and her hands helped his as she shoved the heavy material down her legs, kicking it off with his help. His hand ran up the length of her leg, his palm sliding against her skin, ankle to calf, calf to knee, knee to thigh and - “Oh Gods!”
She bit her lip so hard she felt the coopery tang of blood bloom on her tongue, but she welcomed the pain - so different from the pleasure he was evoking with nothing but the palm of his hand. His mouth slid against her hips, nipping lightly on one side and then the other as she writhed beneath him. His fingers finally slid under the cotton waistband of her underwear, winding through the curls there like a lone explorer off to discover new land.
One finger only, delving past her waist, dipping down into her very center as he parted the folds there and slid it against her - pressure, pressure , pressure and oh Gods, it seemed so bright suddenly. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him in her mind, cocky grin and burning blue, skin so dark against hers so white, and it was such a lovely image that when she looked down the length of her own body, she swore she could see it. Her hands moved over her own skin as she pressed her hips up, up, up - begging for release, begging for confinement, just begging for whatever he was willing to give as her palms brushed against her own nipples and his gasp told her he was watching.
She smiled then, a feral little grin that curled within her like smoke leading to what was sure to be a raging inferno - her hand tracing where his mouth has just passed, down, down, down until her fingers brushed against his - landing on top of his hand and pushing down even harder there - showing him just how hard and soft and hard she liked it. His moans were the ones she shushed now as his fingers tangled with his, and it was no longer his hand and her hand but their hands, their touches, their caresses driving both of them to the point of madness and beyond. She was close - so close, achingly close - when she dragged both of their hands back. Fingers still entangled as she sat up, leaning over and pushing him back, she brought their entwined hands up by her face where she kissed each finger, his and hers, her tongue tracing across their combined skin and his groans urging her on.
“I like mutuality.” Her whisper was not heard by anyone but him, and her fingers left his as her mouth descended on him - drawing his lips to hers, pressing her tongue against his as she gave him a preview of her taste - light and sensual as she pressed against him, her hands sneaking down to fumble with his belt and pants. When she finally got them undone, her overly-eager hands dove under the waistband of his boxers, grasping him, thick and heavy in her hand. She pressed her weight on top of him, her palm grinding against his length as her hips stroked up and down slowly and her mouth never left his, her tongue repeating the same slow tortuous action.
He may have moaned her name - she wasn’t sure, but her hand tightened around his length, fingers sliding up and over the head as he gasped, and she lifted her mouth from his to grin down at him in the dark. “Mutuality,” she repeated, both hands pushing his pants down before she lifted herself from him, turning her head toward his feet as she pushed the offending clothes as far down as she could. She rose back up, keeping her body inverted to his, pausing for a moment over his groin as she took in the sight of him - stiff and silken, aching to be touched. Her hands ran down his length gently, light and teasing as she lowered her mouth just over him and breathed there for a moment.
“Laura….” It was her name this time, low and guttural, the sound sending tiny shocks all the way down her body, and as her tongue darted out, one small lick, just to taste, his own hands traced up her inner thighs, pulling one leg up and over his shoulder, and she giggled once before his fingers spread her apart and slid along the wetness there, the laughter dying in her throat. She slid her tongue down the length of him in retaliation, pressing against the shaft in a languorous motion before moving it back up again and enveloping him slowly into her mouth. His hiss was hot against her skin, an intense breeze across her sensitive flesh, and soon his tongue was mimicking her own, skimming across her folds lightly even as his fingers worked above his mouth, pressing against the bundle of nerves there as she hummed deep in her throat. His hips bucked and she moved her head up and down in a waltzing motion, quick, quick, slow - and the slow was so, so slow. His hips twitched below her, and she gripped them in her hands - pressing him down into the tarp as she surged forward, taking every inch of him she could. “Laura.” It was a pant, hot breath across cool wet, and she barely registered it when his fingers slid inside her, hooking slightly and pressing up, up and up until he hit just the right spot and she began losing her pacing, the quick, quick, slow dissolving into quick, quick, quicker as she tasted the salty tang of him sweeping through her mouth and felt her inner walls clenching against his hands.
She rose up swiftly, sitting straight up and rolling over before he could even register how close she had come - dancing along the razor edge of pleasure. She rolled over to face him, her hands frantically running all over him, anywhere she could touch as she pressed kisses along his neck, jaw, cheek, nose, settling on his mouth and tasting herself there in an intoxicating rush. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her up and over him before pulling her down smoothly, sheathing himself in her in one quick motion as they both hissed out a breath, their mouths breaking apart as the need for oxygen became paramount.
His pushed his hips up, driving just that much farther, and her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as she concentrated every single cell of her being on not screaming aloud, on not making any noise, on not shouting his name like it was the solution to life itself. They lay still for a moment, savouring the fullness before her agitation kicked in and her hips ground against his restlessly. She breathed in short shallow breaths - needing to pant, gasp, writhe and scream but unable to do anything other than draw in shallow breaths, exhaling them just as quickly as she set the pace above him, swift and sloppy. He lifted his hips to meet each thrust, and she ground against his in a counterpoint, eliciting that extra bit of pressure as she lowered her face to his shoulder, pressing it there to muffle her whimpers.
Higher and higher and faster and faster - until her teeth sank into his skin, marking him as she sobbed her release silently into him, tasting his blood, sour with sweat and sweet with her as he rose once, twice more, and she ceased to exist. She felt a haze settle over her, floating above him as she cried out soundlessly, the dark exploding with splinters of blue and white.
His own moans he buried into her hair, his hand clutching her hips bruisingly as he found his own release. She lay on top of him, her skin bonded to his as they each fought to pace their breathing - in and out, quick, quick, slow. She could feel his lips against her temple as sounds flooded back into their vacuum of space, soft voices and discussions all around them as she laughed weakly, breathing unsteadily in his ear. She wanted to say something - anything about just how this moment felt, such sweet release after such intense pressure, - but in the end, she pressed equally soft kisses to his cooling skin, tasting salt and blood and sweat and tears. Like so many things, she knew he didn’t need it to be said. He knew. She knew.
So she lay there, listening to the murmurs around them and his newly-repaired heart thudding calmly under her ear, as the breeze continued to dance around them, fluttering against the tarps, its gentle rustle crinkling above them, masking their laboured breathing.
She felt his arms around her, shifting her to the left as he dragged a blanket over them, and she laid her head on his chest, the sound breeze and his even breathing lulling her to sleep.
“I forgive you, Bill.” She mumbled the words slowly, and his chuckle rumbled through her, him to her, her to him - but it was a low buzz now, the voltage down to acceptable levels.
“Thank you, Laura.”