Fic: "Lessons in Diplomacy" [1/1]
Lessons in Diplomacy
by missfoxie
Pairing: CJ Cregg/Laura Roslin (TWW/BSG xover)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: These characters are not mine, belonging as they do to Aaron Sorkin and Ron Moore respectively. I'm just playing.
A/N: Pretty much dedicated to projectjulie, who obliged to look this little thing over.
Word Count: 533
Summary: "I thought the White House was supposed to have the utmost respect for visiting heads of state"
It is only seconds after the hotel suite doors clicked shut and CJ already has President Roslin up against the wall, hands tangling in hair as she kisses the other woman hard. A slender leg snakes around CJ’s, pulling her closer to the body arching against her. She lets her hands slip downward, skimming breasts covered by filmy silk and finally settling on hips.
What seems like an eternity of fumbling follows before CJ realises the suffocation of a foreign dignitary wouldn’t look good on her resume and breaks off the kiss. She steps back a little light-headedly.
“I thought the White House was supposed to have the utmost respect for visiting heads of state,” Roslin says with a sly smile.
“And we do, Madam President, in fact I think I’ve quite a flair for diplomacy, but most heads of state don’t look at me the way you look at me in the Roosevelt Room.”
“That’s a dreadful slur on you Ms Cregg,” she replies, taking CJ’s hand and leading her towards a desk stacked with files, “and it speaks of a tremendous lack of intelligence on their part.”
Something about the presidential seals emblazoned across folders and decorating the flags hanging behind Roslin’s chair gives CJ pause.
What is she doing?
As Press Secretary, she remembers tearing strips off Sam for having a rather benign relationship with a call girl and yet here she stands, White House Chief of Staff, getting breathless and thoroughly mussed with the visiting Colonial President.
“Is there a problem?”
The cool voice draws her attention back from official stationery and the flagrant breach of protocol she’s committing to the woman perched with regal bearing on the edge of the desk.
CJ studies this particularly attractive head of state as she steps between Roslin’s knees . Years of public relations and politics have equipped her with people-reading skills worthy of art form status, but the woman facing her is rendering these null and void. Inscrutability radiates from President Roslin, even as she looks up at CJ with smudged lipstick and a rumpled blouse.
A thought flits across CJ’s mind as she feels her suit jacket being pushed off her shoulders. Is there an agenda behind this game of international relations, a lust of a political rather than libidinal nature?
But then there’s that smile again, and CJ gives up trying to maintain rational thought, let alone political acumen.
All she can do is lean down and press her mouth against the one in front of her. Part lips and suck the President’s tongue deep into her mouth instead of thinking. She can feel fingernails scratching gently at the back of her neck, and a teasing hand is caressing its way across her collarbone and down to her breasts. CJ’s own hands are smoothing up Roslin’s thighs, shoving her skirt up higher and higher, until they find warm skin and lace stocking tops.
That settles it.
CJ decides that for once she doesn’t care what it is, she only cares what it looks like, and Colonial President Laura Roslin is looking incredibly appealing right now.
And besides, ‘Madam President’ sounds so good tripping off her tongue.
by missfoxie
Pairing: CJ Cregg/Laura Roslin (TWW/BSG xover)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: These characters are not mine, belonging as they do to Aaron Sorkin and Ron Moore respectively. I'm just playing.
A/N: Pretty much dedicated to projectjulie, who obliged to look this little thing over.
Word Count: 533
Summary: "I thought the White House was supposed to have the utmost respect for visiting heads of state"
It is only seconds after the hotel suite doors clicked shut and CJ already has President Roslin up against the wall, hands tangling in hair as she kisses the other woman hard. A slender leg snakes around CJ’s, pulling her closer to the body arching against her. She lets her hands slip downward, skimming breasts covered by filmy silk and finally settling on hips.
What seems like an eternity of fumbling follows before CJ realises the suffocation of a foreign dignitary wouldn’t look good on her resume and breaks off the kiss. She steps back a little light-headedly.
“I thought the White House was supposed to have the utmost respect for visiting heads of state,” Roslin says with a sly smile.
“And we do, Madam President, in fact I think I’ve quite a flair for diplomacy, but most heads of state don’t look at me the way you look at me in the Roosevelt Room.”
“That’s a dreadful slur on you Ms Cregg,” she replies, taking CJ’s hand and leading her towards a desk stacked with files, “and it speaks of a tremendous lack of intelligence on their part.”
Something about the presidential seals emblazoned across folders and decorating the flags hanging behind Roslin’s chair gives CJ pause.
What is she doing?
As Press Secretary, she remembers tearing strips off Sam for having a rather benign relationship with a call girl and yet here she stands, White House Chief of Staff, getting breathless and thoroughly mussed with the visiting Colonial President.
“Is there a problem?”
The cool voice draws her attention back from official stationery and the flagrant breach of protocol she’s committing to the woman perched with regal bearing on the edge of the desk.
CJ studies this particularly attractive head of state as she steps between Roslin’s knees . Years of public relations and politics have equipped her with people-reading skills worthy of art form status, but the woman facing her is rendering these null and void. Inscrutability radiates from President Roslin, even as she looks up at CJ with smudged lipstick and a rumpled blouse.
A thought flits across CJ’s mind as she feels her suit jacket being pushed off her shoulders. Is there an agenda behind this game of international relations, a lust of a political rather than libidinal nature?
But then there’s that smile again, and CJ gives up trying to maintain rational thought, let alone political acumen.
All she can do is lean down and press her mouth against the one in front of her. Part lips and suck the President’s tongue deep into her mouth instead of thinking. She can feel fingernails scratching gently at the back of her neck, and a teasing hand is caressing its way across her collarbone and down to her breasts. CJ’s own hands are smoothing up Roslin’s thighs, shoving her skirt up higher and higher, until they find warm skin and lace stocking tops.
That settles it.
CJ decides that for once she doesn’t care what it is, she only cares what it looks like, and Colonial President Laura Roslin is looking incredibly appealing right now.
And besides, ‘Madam President’ sounds so good tripping off her tongue.