Battlestar Galactica (2003): Conclusion (Bill Adama/Laura Roslin, M)
Title: Conclusion
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Word Count: 437
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Beta: laharah
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: [mmom day 11] You're not sure how you got here.
You don't know what you're doing. No, that's not true, but you're not sure how the two of you wound up in this situation.
You remember her coming to your door, later than she'd usually have visited. She'd been flushed, her shirt as far unbuttoned as decency would allow, her long, lovely legs bare and her auburn hair pinned up in a knot; you'd jerked your eyes up to her face in an attempt not to be caught staring. It might not have worked, you're not sure: she'd looked a little curious when you met her eyes.
You let her in, got her a glass of ambrosia while she took a seat on your couch. Turned toward her to see her sitting with her legs crossed at the ankle, skirt riding up ever so slightly, and dragged your gaze away again.
Laura caught you, that time.
Didn't say a word, just smiled: that irrepressible smirk that hovers at the corners of her mouth when she's trying not to let people know how amused she is.
You know it well. You remember wanting to grab her and just kiss the smile off her face until she fell into you and couldn't do anything less than kissing you back...
You didn't. You sat down with your own glass of ambrosia, resolved to go easy on it, and leaned back, shucking off your uniform jacket as her smile smoothed into something more demure and she began to talk to you.
You can't be sure, but the last thing you remember, you'd finished off a bottle between the two of you, and she was closer to you on the couch than she'd been in a long time. Her breath was sweet and hot against your neck, her head laid on your shoulder and her hair tickling your arm where your tanks ended...
And now...
You don't know how you got here, but you're nearly naked, down against your own couch with Laura perched on your thighs, just short of where you want her. She's breathing fast, her head is thrown back, her eyes are closed and her lips parted, just a little: that sight is almost sexier than the fact that all she's wearing is a pair of black cotton panties.
Almost.
One of your hands is underneath you for balance, while the other moves on her, caressing and stroking between her legs, through her underwear, as she pants for breath, biting her lip and moaning your name as you hit just the right spot.
You don't know how the hell you got here, but you don't ever want her to leave.
-fin
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Word Count: 437
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Beta: laharah
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: [mmom day 11] You're not sure how you got here.
You don't know what you're doing. No, that's not true, but you're not sure how the two of you wound up in this situation.
You remember her coming to your door, later than she'd usually have visited. She'd been flushed, her shirt as far unbuttoned as decency would allow, her long, lovely legs bare and her auburn hair pinned up in a knot; you'd jerked your eyes up to her face in an attempt not to be caught staring. It might not have worked, you're not sure: she'd looked a little curious when you met her eyes.
You let her in, got her a glass of ambrosia while she took a seat on your couch. Turned toward her to see her sitting with her legs crossed at the ankle, skirt riding up ever so slightly, and dragged your gaze away again.
Laura caught you, that time.
Didn't say a word, just smiled: that irrepressible smirk that hovers at the corners of her mouth when she's trying not to let people know how amused she is.
You know it well. You remember wanting to grab her and just kiss the smile off her face until she fell into you and couldn't do anything less than kissing you back...
You didn't. You sat down with your own glass of ambrosia, resolved to go easy on it, and leaned back, shucking off your uniform jacket as her smile smoothed into something more demure and she began to talk to you.
You can't be sure, but the last thing you remember, you'd finished off a bottle between the two of you, and she was closer to you on the couch than she'd been in a long time. Her breath was sweet and hot against your neck, her head laid on your shoulder and her hair tickling your arm where your tanks ended...
And now...
You don't know how you got here, but you're nearly naked, down against your own couch with Laura perched on your thighs, just short of where you want her. She's breathing fast, her head is thrown back, her eyes are closed and her lips parted, just a little: that sight is almost sexier than the fact that all she's wearing is a pair of black cotton panties.
Almost.
One of your hands is underneath you for balance, while the other moves on her, caressing and stroking between her legs, through her underwear, as she pants for breath, biting her lip and moaning your name as you hit just the right spot.
You don't know how the hell you got here, but you don't ever want her to leave.
-fin