4 Battlestar Galactica Drabbles | Laura Roslin/Helena Cain
Title: Rough & Bruised & Turnabout’s Fair Play & Sheer Physical Exhaustion
Author: Coco | madampresident | grrriliketigers on AO3
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica | Laura Roslin/Helena Cain
Warning: this is 100% consensual, not even dubcon if you squint, but they get preeetty rough with each other.
Prompt: 564 - Kink
Word Count: 200, 150, 250, 100
Summary: Laura craves Helena because she can forget that she’s dying for a few hours.
Helena grabs a fistful of Laura’s hair, pulling her head back as she pushes her against the hatch of the Admiral’s private quarters. Laura sucks in a breath and lets it out shakily. Helena growls in her ear as she thrusts the double-sided dildo deeply into the president.
Laura bites her lip on a moan, conscious that the hatch isn’t exactly soundproof. Helena’s pace is fast and deep and Laura feels her orgasm fast approaching.
As she’s gotten sicker, she’s found it harder and harder to climax. Helena never treats her like she’s fragile, has no compunction about throwing her against a wall and frakking the ever loving shit out of her.
Helena’s fingernails dig into Laura’s scalp and Laura lets out a strangled sob. “Oh frak.”
“Are you gonna come for me?” Helena pants hotly in her ear.
“Gods, yes.” Laura whimpers, reaching an arm up to cup the back of Helena’s head. “Come with me.”
Helena pushes Laura’s head to the side and her lips latch tightly to the sensitive skin and Laura bites down on her lip to keep from yelling. Helena’s body pulses against Laura and the women ride out their orgasms breathlessly before separating wordlessly.
**
“Madam President…” Lee blinks. “Are you okay? You look like you got into a fight.”
Laura smiles sheepishly, her swollen lip throbs as she does. “I’m fine, Apollo, I appreciate your concern.”
Few people were left who would be so forward as to directly inquire. She wanted to get away from him before her blushing gave her away. She takes a step and falters. He reaches out to steady her, he grabs her elbow and she sucks in a pained breath.
Her face turns bright red as she remembers Helena shoving her hard to the floor and frakking her doggy style until she was a dripping wet quivering mess.
Lee looks at her with concern. He opens his mouth to ask.
“Apollo, I have to go.” Laura says abruptly, turning away from him, back the way she came, back toward Helena’s quarters. “I have some unfinished business with the admiral.”
**
Laura slams the door to Helena’s quarters behind her. Helena looks up with a raised eyebrow, looking so frakkable in her Pegasus Pyramid Tournament tank and tight little exercise shorts.
Laura closes the distance between them, cupping her cheeks and pushing her back until Helena’s back hits the wall. Never missing a beat, Helena deepens the kiss as she pulls Laura’s skirt up around her waist. Her fingers dip into the president, making Laura’s knees quiver as Helena presses two fingers firmly to Laura’s g-spot.
“Frak.” Laura grinds out. Helena’s other hand snakes up Laura’s blouse and roughly palms Laura’s breast, squeezing her nipple.
Laura pulls back abruptly. “How many times do I have to tell you my tits are off limits?” Laura growls.
“I guess at least one more time.” Helena grins as she slips her own hand beneath the waistband of her shorts.
Helena’s double-sided-dildo is still drying next to the sink in her washroom and Laura retrieves it, returning with it between her legs.
“My, my Madam President, what a big dick you have.” Helena’s fingers encircle her clit. “What are you going to do with such endowment?”
“Shut up.” Laura barks. She flips Helena around, shoving her against the wall; Helena moans. “You talk too godsdamn much.”
Laura shoves Helena’s shorts down and nudges her legs wide. Laura’s hand smacks Helena’s bare ass as hard as she can.
“More…” Helena moans breathlessly.
Laura’s hand lands three more smacks in rapid succession. Helena squirms, dizzy with arousal.
**
Both women are full drained and more than a little bit sore. They had collapsed in a sweaty, tangled mess on Helena’s rack, chests still heaving from the latest in a string of climaxes.
Laura wants to get up. She wants to go back to Colonial One. They don’t cuddle; they don’t sleep and spoon and whisper sweet nothings. But every muscle in Laura’s body is exhausted and ignoring her silent pleas to move.
Helena gives no indication that she has the ability to move either.
So Laura will stay. Just this once. They don’t have to talk about it.
Author: Coco | madampresident | grrriliketigers on AO3
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica | Laura Roslin/Helena Cain
Warning: this is 100% consensual, not even dubcon if you squint, but they get preeetty rough with each other.
Prompt: 564 - Kink
Word Count: 200, 150, 250, 100
Summary: Laura craves Helena because she can forget that she’s dying for a few hours.
Helena grabs a fistful of Laura’s hair, pulling her head back as she pushes her against the hatch of the Admiral’s private quarters. Laura sucks in a breath and lets it out shakily. Helena growls in her ear as she thrusts the double-sided dildo deeply into the president.
Laura bites her lip on a moan, conscious that the hatch isn’t exactly soundproof. Helena’s pace is fast and deep and Laura feels her orgasm fast approaching.
As she’s gotten sicker, she’s found it harder and harder to climax. Helena never treats her like she’s fragile, has no compunction about throwing her against a wall and frakking the ever loving shit out of her.
Helena’s fingernails dig into Laura’s scalp and Laura lets out a strangled sob. “Oh frak.”
“Are you gonna come for me?” Helena pants hotly in her ear.
“Gods, yes.” Laura whimpers, reaching an arm up to cup the back of Helena’s head. “Come with me.”
Helena pushes Laura’s head to the side and her lips latch tightly to the sensitive skin and Laura bites down on her lip to keep from yelling. Helena’s body pulses against Laura and the women ride out their orgasms breathlessly before separating wordlessly.
**
“Madam President…” Lee blinks. “Are you okay? You look like you got into a fight.”
Laura smiles sheepishly, her swollen lip throbs as she does. “I’m fine, Apollo, I appreciate your concern.”
Few people were left who would be so forward as to directly inquire. She wanted to get away from him before her blushing gave her away. She takes a step and falters. He reaches out to steady her, he grabs her elbow and she sucks in a pained breath.
Her face turns bright red as she remembers Helena shoving her hard to the floor and frakking her doggy style until she was a dripping wet quivering mess.
Lee looks at her with concern. He opens his mouth to ask.
“Apollo, I have to go.” Laura says abruptly, turning away from him, back the way she came, back toward Helena’s quarters. “I have some unfinished business with the admiral.”
**
Laura slams the door to Helena’s quarters behind her. Helena looks up with a raised eyebrow, looking so frakkable in her Pegasus Pyramid Tournament tank and tight little exercise shorts.
Laura closes the distance between them, cupping her cheeks and pushing her back until Helena’s back hits the wall. Never missing a beat, Helena deepens the kiss as she pulls Laura’s skirt up around her waist. Her fingers dip into the president, making Laura’s knees quiver as Helena presses two fingers firmly to Laura’s g-spot.
“Frak.” Laura grinds out. Helena’s other hand snakes up Laura’s blouse and roughly palms Laura’s breast, squeezing her nipple.
Laura pulls back abruptly. “How many times do I have to tell you my tits are off limits?” Laura growls.
“I guess at least one more time.” Helena grins as she slips her own hand beneath the waistband of her shorts.
Helena’s double-sided-dildo is still drying next to the sink in her washroom and Laura retrieves it, returning with it between her legs.
“My, my Madam President, what a big dick you have.” Helena’s fingers encircle her clit. “What are you going to do with such endowment?”
“Shut up.” Laura barks. She flips Helena around, shoving her against the wall; Helena moans. “You talk too godsdamn much.”
Laura shoves Helena’s shorts down and nudges her legs wide. Laura’s hand smacks Helena’s bare ass as hard as she can.
“More…” Helena moans breathlessly.
Laura’s hand lands three more smacks in rapid succession. Helena squirms, dizzy with arousal.
**
Both women are full drained and more than a little bit sore. They had collapsed in a sweaty, tangled mess on Helena’s rack, chests still heaving from the latest in a string of climaxes.
Laura wants to get up. She wants to go back to Colonial One. They don’t cuddle; they don’t sleep and spoon and whisper sweet nothings. But every muscle in Laura’s body is exhausted and ignoring her silent pleas to move.
Helena gives no indication that she has the ability to move either.
So Laura will stay. Just this once. They don’t have to talk about it.