Battlestar Galactica (2003): Inarticulate (Roslin/Adama, M)
Title: Inarticulate
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Word Count: 896
Beta: falena84
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Spoilers: Maelstrom
Summary: [mmom day 24] You won't lose Laura. Sequel to Whirlwind.
You feel almost as if you're betraying Starbuck, wanting to have Laura here with you now, so soon after.
You don't call her.
Instead, she turns up of her own accord, no warning, just the President at your hatch four hours after Kara's ... death. (It's hard for you even to think that word, can't link it with someone so alive, so vivid.)
She's dismissed her guard, just, you remember, as she did earlier in the day. Hard to believe that was today, it seems a lifetime ago she was here in your arms. Before Kara--
She doesn't say much. Takes a long look at your shattered ship, doesn't call you on it. Steps inside your quarters and closes the hatch before you even realise her eyes are as red as yours must be.
She's been crying, too. Tried to mask it; you can tell she's put makeup on to try to hide the circles around her eyes, though if you didn't know her so well you probably wouldn't have noticed.
Starbuck would have talked her way out of it, if she'd ever cried, not tried to hide it with powder and paint, you think. If she even ever owned makeup.
She's gone.
You bite the inside of your lip. Take another swig of ambrosia. It's not helping much.
A warm body settles against your side. Laura. She takes the glass from your hand; you don't resist. You don't see where she puts it; the next thing you know she's back beside you, leaning into your body, resting her head on your chest and wrapping her arms as far around you as she can reach.
She's still not talking, and you're glad of that.
The pain, the rage. None of it's gone away. It won't. You've lost your daughter, near as. You don't know where Lee is, probably in bed with his wife - the bitterness of that twists in your gut for a moment, as you know it's not really where he'll be. Not after Kara. He can't.
You both loved her too much. You bite your lip again, hard, drawing blood. Laura makes a small, muffled sound and you realise how tightly you're holding her, your arms around her slender shoulders.
"Sorry," you mutter to her. She looks up at you; her eyes are wet.
You'd forgotten she and Kara were close.
On that thought, you pull her up to sit in your lap, arms secure about her, her body against yours, meeting her mouth as fiercely as you were earlier, kissing her, claiming her.
Lee is alive. You're alive. Laura's alive. You won't lose anyone else.
It's not long before the two of you are entwined on the sticky leather of your couch. It doesn't matter that you spilled something on it, she doesn't care, you don't care, there are more important things. You know that again as you see her groping hand knock over the near-empty glass she'd taken off you, standing on the floor by the couch, and your mouth is on her skin, sucking at her neck, marking her, and you don't care, you can lose yourself in this, in her, like you've always wanted.
She's alive.
Beautiful.
Mine.
She slows you down after a minute, deliberately failing to respond for a moment. When you lift your head she's smiling, albeit with a hint of sadness.
She speaks.
"Bill, let me..." She presses you down beneath her as she asks, not roughly, and you go, letting her take control of the situation. She's undressing you all of a sudden, small delicate hands sliding under your clothes; you gasp a little at the soft coolness against your skin and lean up for her to strip off your tanks.
Her breathing is a little faster now; you look at her as she hovers slightly above you, bare breasts tempting, a flush rising up her throat. You want her. Want to touch her, to make her yours, to know she's not leaving. Your hands move almost of their own accord as she lowers her head: your thumbs rub and circle her swollen nipples as her lips touch your chest. You can feel her lips part as she moans, hips circling against yours and making your eyes roll back in your head as she presses against you.
The sound goes through you like a physical impact.
Beautiful.
She's kissing her way down your right side, lips soft and a little dry; when she nibbles ever so gently at the flesh of your stomach you know it is you who makes a noise this time, even if you're not sure what.
She tugs at your belt when she reaches it, and you let her do what she wants, breathless. You want nothing more than to lose yourself in loving her right now; to forget pain and death and sorrow and know only Laura.
She's making love to you, with lips and skilled fingers and her whole body. As she moves over you, you can't help but hold her, pull her down to you, like a chord in the perfect place in the middle of an unfinished symphony.
She's the melody you've been missing.
-fin
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Word Count: 896
Beta: falena84
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Spoilers: Maelstrom
Summary: [mmom day 24] You won't lose Laura. Sequel to Whirlwind.
You feel almost as if you're betraying Starbuck, wanting to have Laura here with you now, so soon after.
You don't call her.
Instead, she turns up of her own accord, no warning, just the President at your hatch four hours after Kara's ... death. (It's hard for you even to think that word, can't link it with someone so alive, so vivid.)
She's dismissed her guard, just, you remember, as she did earlier in the day. Hard to believe that was today, it seems a lifetime ago she was here in your arms. Before Kara--
She doesn't say much. Takes a long look at your shattered ship, doesn't call you on it. Steps inside your quarters and closes the hatch before you even realise her eyes are as red as yours must be.
She's been crying, too. Tried to mask it; you can tell she's put makeup on to try to hide the circles around her eyes, though if you didn't know her so well you probably wouldn't have noticed.
Starbuck would have talked her way out of it, if she'd ever cried, not tried to hide it with powder and paint, you think. If she even ever owned makeup.
She's gone.
You bite the inside of your lip. Take another swig of ambrosia. It's not helping much.
A warm body settles against your side. Laura. She takes the glass from your hand; you don't resist. You don't see where she puts it; the next thing you know she's back beside you, leaning into your body, resting her head on your chest and wrapping her arms as far around you as she can reach.
She's still not talking, and you're glad of that.
The pain, the rage. None of it's gone away. It won't. You've lost your daughter, near as. You don't know where Lee is, probably in bed with his wife - the bitterness of that twists in your gut for a moment, as you know it's not really where he'll be. Not after Kara. He can't.
You both loved her too much. You bite your lip again, hard, drawing blood. Laura makes a small, muffled sound and you realise how tightly you're holding her, your arms around her slender shoulders.
"Sorry," you mutter to her. She looks up at you; her eyes are wet.
You'd forgotten she and Kara were close.
On that thought, you pull her up to sit in your lap, arms secure about her, her body against yours, meeting her mouth as fiercely as you were earlier, kissing her, claiming her.
Lee is alive. You're alive. Laura's alive. You won't lose anyone else.
It's not long before the two of you are entwined on the sticky leather of your couch. It doesn't matter that you spilled something on it, she doesn't care, you don't care, there are more important things. You know that again as you see her groping hand knock over the near-empty glass she'd taken off you, standing on the floor by the couch, and your mouth is on her skin, sucking at her neck, marking her, and you don't care, you can lose yourself in this, in her, like you've always wanted.
She's alive.
Beautiful.
Mine.
She slows you down after a minute, deliberately failing to respond for a moment. When you lift your head she's smiling, albeit with a hint of sadness.
She speaks.
"Bill, let me..." She presses you down beneath her as she asks, not roughly, and you go, letting her take control of the situation. She's undressing you all of a sudden, small delicate hands sliding under your clothes; you gasp a little at the soft coolness against your skin and lean up for her to strip off your tanks.
Her breathing is a little faster now; you look at her as she hovers slightly above you, bare breasts tempting, a flush rising up her throat. You want her. Want to touch her, to make her yours, to know she's not leaving. Your hands move almost of their own accord as she lowers her head: your thumbs rub and circle her swollen nipples as her lips touch your chest. You can feel her lips part as she moans, hips circling against yours and making your eyes roll back in your head as she presses against you.
The sound goes through you like a physical impact.
Beautiful.
She's kissing her way down your right side, lips soft and a little dry; when she nibbles ever so gently at the flesh of your stomach you know it is you who makes a noise this time, even if you're not sure what.
She tugs at your belt when she reaches it, and you let her do what she wants, breathless. You want nothing more than to lose yourself in loving her right now; to forget pain and death and sorrow and know only Laura.
She's making love to you, with lips and skilled fingers and her whole body. As she moves over you, you can't help but hold her, pull her down to you, like a chord in the perfect place in the middle of an unfinished symphony.
She's the melody you've been missing.
-fin