Dating the President 5/5
Title: Dating the President 5/5
Author: Rowen
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Rating: NC17 / R
Spoilers: Set just after the season 3 episode: "Dirty Hands". In this world, none of the episodes after that exist.
Synopsis: Just how do you go about wooing the President when you're the Admiral of the Fleet?
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to SciFi and lots of other people but not me.
Notes: NOTE THE RATING CHANGE.
If you are not over the legal age in your country/state, go away now!
If you prefer to read a version that is a little tamer, I'll be posting an edited part 5 to fanfiction.net within the next day or so.
Chapter 5 - Another dinner
Bill lit the last candle then surveyed the table, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Plates; cutlery; glasses; napkins; candles. The only thing missing were flowers: those being virtually impossible to obtain since the destruction of Cloud Nine. He dimmed the main cabin lights, leaving only the lamps on, and contemplated his collection of recorded music. Would music be too much? Did it scream "seduction in progress" or was it the perfect romantic touch?
There was no time to consider the question, as at that moment the hatch opened and in stepped Laura. Coolly elegant in her black suit, her red hair shining in the corridor lights. She stopped just inside the door, her eyes quickly assessing the scene, then turned and did something she'd never done in his cabin before: spun the locking wheel of the hatch and secured it.
Bill swallowed hard: apparently there was no doubt in either of their minds just what was being contemplated here tonight.
"If I'd known you were going to go to this much trouble I would have worn my red dress," she said with a smile, leaning back against the door. Her voice was low and smooth, and seemed to make the cabin feel five degrees warmer.
'Laura, if you'd worn that dress it would be on the floor right now and I'd be taking you up against the bulkhead,' he thought. He cleared his throat, trying to banish the very vivid images that accompanied the thought.
"That would definitely have set my crew's tongues wagging," he said lightly.
She looked at him with knowing eyes - as if she'd somehow heard the unvoiced thought.
"Your crew were gossiping about us even before we started dating, Bill," she pointed out, moving further into the cabin and stopping a couple of feet from him.
"Yes, I suppose they were," he said, resisting the urge to loosen the collar of his casual shirt as the temperature in the room climbed higher the closer she came. "And with the constant newspaper coverage we're getting..."
"People love to gossip," she said softly, reaching out a hand and lightly touched his chest. "The more salacious, the better."
He covered the hand with his own, feeling his heart thundering in his chest.
"Drink?" he asked, trying to force his body back into equilibrium from the heightened state her touch had produced.
She nodded. "Please."
He could feel her eyes on his back as he poured two glasses of wine. As he handed one to her, her fingers slid over his. Quite deliberately, he was sure.
"Thank you," she said, taking a sip; her eyes never leaving his.
He limited himself to a short nod, wrapping his fingers around his own glass: concentrating on that, rather than the beguiling woman in front of him.
'Slow and steady, Bill,' he reminded himself. No matter how desperately he wanted to reach for her. The rewards of a slow seduction were tenfold; something youngsters often failed to appreciate as they jumped straight to the "good part."
"I was about to put on some music," he said, taking a sip of the wine. "Perhaps you could do the honors while I check on the dinner?" He gestured to his collection of recorded music.
"Of course," she agreed, pulling her glasses from a pocket.
When he returned from the kitchenette, he was confronted by a magnificent sight.
Laura had removed her jacket and was standing in front of the shelves, leaning forward to examine the titles of the recordings. He let his gaze slowly wander up her legs, then linger on her taut, rounded backside which was being displayed to perfection by her posture and short, tight skirt.
"I'm afraid I'm going to need some help here," she confessed, straightening up. "I'm not familiar with a lot of these works. I wouldn't want to choose something... inappropriate."
"Of course." He moved close behind her; close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. As he reached past her to the shelf, his hand rested lightly on her hip. For balance, of course.
"This should be... suitable," he said in a low voice, his breath stirring her hair.
With a light caress he pulled back, feeling her shiver beneath the touch. He pretended not to notice the reaction, as he put the recording in the player. The sound of instrumental music filled the cabin. It was lush, sumptuous and unashamedly sensual. Laura's eyes drifted closed and her lips curved into a smile as she let the sound wash over her.
"Mmm... nice. I'll have to get a copy of this."
He watched her sway to the music for a moment, then couldn't stand it any longer. He placed his drink back on the desk and crossed the room to stand behind her. He hesitated a moment, then reached out and gently touched her waist.
She made a contented sound in her throat and leaned into him, letting her head fall back on his shoulder and covering his hands with her own; holding them firmly on her hips as they swayed to the music.
The feeling of her body against his was exhilarating. His lips found the side of her neck and brushed against the sensitive skin, which provoked shivers and caused her to gasp. Her hands guided his in a slow sensual pattern over the curve of her hips and waist as he continued to nuzzle the delicate skin of her neck and throat. So warm; so soft.
She pivoted in his arms so that they were face-to-face; pressed against each other from chest to thigh. Her lips brushed across his: tasting; teasing; while her hand guided one of his from her hips, over the dip of her waist and up to her breasts.
With a light touch, he caressed her through the silky fabric of her blouse. Breaking the kiss to look into her eyes, he popped open a button on the blouse; then a second; a third; revealing her breasts encased in a lacy white bra. With a trembling finger, he traced the soft skin from her shoulder and down over the swell of her breast; then he cupped her, his fingers lightly stroking.
"Bill... oh..." she gasped, arching into his touch. "Ahh... maybe you should turn the heat off in the kitchen, so dinner doesn't get ruined."
His hand stilled in its exploration, then withdrew.
Frak. Dinner. Where had all his resolutions about taking things slow gone? Out the air lock after more than three years of celibacy, possibly.
"Or we could eat now..." he suggested half-heartedly.
Laura's eyes flashed dangerously and she stabbed a finger at his chest.
"William Adama," she ground out fiercely, forcing him back step-by-step. "If you even think about stopping now..." The back of his legs hit the desk. "If you even contemplate it, I'll..."
The rest of her threat was lost as her pulled her close and covered her mouth with a passionate kiss. With a move that would have made a dancing master proud, he reversed their positions, so that she was the one pressed against the desk.
The kiss was hot, demanding and primal. He'd wanted this; fantasized about this for so long, that he couldn't get enough of her. Lack of oxygen finally forced them to break the lip-lock, and he kissed his way down her neck, deftly undoing the remaining buttons of her blouse, his hands roaming over her bare skin. She moaned, her head falling back, as she threaded her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to continue. Not that her needed any encouragement to keep ravishing her.
But there was something he was supposed to remember... something he was supposed to do...
"Dinner," he blurted out, his lips abruptly leaving her breast.
Her eyes were fogged with passion, and it took a moment for his non sequitur to be processed.
"Dinner," he explained. "I should..."
Her fingers on his lips silenced him.
"Quickly," she commanded.
It only took a moment to place the dinner in a warmer drawer, but by the time he returned...
"Frak me," he whispered under his breath, taking in the sight before him.
Laura had divested herself of blouse, skirt, stockings and shoes and was sitting on the edge of his desk; legs crossed and clad only in lacy white bra and panties. Her legs - her glorious legs - seemed to go on forever, although the small part of his brain that was still capable of logical reasoning insisted this was impossible, given that she was close to his height. But impossible or not, there they were.
His eyes raked up her body with tangible force, burning the image into his memory.
"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispered, forgetting in that instant that he didn't believe in the gods.
His shirt was unbuttoned by the time he crossed the intervening space, falling to the floor beneath his feet. As he reached her, one of his arms went around her waist; his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to look at him. He felt her legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer.
"I'm going to have a lot of trouble working at this desk now," he said in a voice rough with passion. "Every time I try, I'll see an image of you... sitting here like this..."
She arched against him, bringing them into more intimate contact.
"So I don't suppose you want to take me here like this, Sir," she said in a breathy voice, looking at him through half-closed eyes.
For their first time together, he knew he definitely wanted her in his bed. But next time... The idea of frakking her on his desk was almost intoxicating.... But then so was the idea of against the bulkhead; or in the shower; or...
He growled, slid his hands under her backside and picked her up, carrying her across to his rack. With care, he deposited her on the bed.
"I'm shocked that you'd make a suggestion like that, Madam President," he said, removing his shoes and trousers in record time. "If your constituents knew..."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tilted her head back and gave him a downright wicked look, while she ran a finger just under the waistband of his boxers.
"You never know, I might actually get more votes..."
She grasped the waistband of the boxers with both hands and carefully pulled them down.
"My, my..." she murmured, looking at the view that had just been revealed. She leaned forward, grasping his hips and he could feel her breath across his...
He almost groaned as she pulled back without making contact.
"Have you left word that you're not to be disturbed?" she asked, somehow managing to look very presidential, despite their position and lack of clothes. "Unless at least four base stars manage to track us down, I don't want to hear that telephone ring, or have someone knocking on the hatch."
He nodded.
"Good. We wouldn't want any more interruptions..."
This time he did groan as a wet heat engulfed him. He resisted the urge to weave his fingers through her hair and pull her closer; instead he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.
He looked down, and the only coherent thought that came to mind was: 'The President of the Colonies is giving me a blow job!' which quickly transformed to: 'Laura is giving me a frakking blow job.' Which was far more mind-blowing.
And she was very good, too; things were progressing a lot faster than he had hoped.
"Laura."
She paused, her lips still wrapped around him and looked up. The sight in itself was almost enough to drive him over the edge.
"Laura. I need you to stop."
She looked up at him rebelliously for a moment, then with a look that was sheer wickedness, drew back, lightly scraping her teeth along his length. He gasped, then gave her a heated glare which she met with a mischievous look.
"Playing with fire, Laura," he warned, reaching down and cupping her chin. The expression on her face was one of anticipation and arousal. He realized at that moment that he'd been right when he'd originally had the thought all those months ago: Madame President had a thing for bad boys. And, perhaps, a few other...kinks... that could make this relationship... very interesting.
He tilted her head back and took possession of her lips with a searing kiss, relishing her moan. Her underwear quickly joined his on the floor as he pushed her down onto the bed, covering her body with his own.
She was responsive beyond his wildest dreams, writhing and arching beneath him as he explored her body; arousing her to the point of orgasm then backing off, only to do it again.
"Bill! Please!!" she begged, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. "I need... I need you... ahh!!!"
She clutched at his back, her fingernails scoring the skin as he slowly pushed into her. He held himself still for a few moments, letting her body adjust to him.
Her hands on his buttocks urged him deeper... faster... then he felt her spasm around his, as she cried out in pleasure. It didn't take much more, and he joined her, spiraling into wave after wave of ecstasy.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
It was later... much later... by the time they got around to eating dinner. The candles had burned low, but the food was still edible. He sat at the table wrapped in his bathrobe, while Laura wore one of his t-shirts... and nothing else. Something he found incredibly sexy and immensely distracting. As were the constant looks and caresses they exchanged throughout the meal.
They had barely finished eating when the phone rang.
"You've got to be frakking kidding me," Laura muttered.
"Adama."
"Somebody reported hearing screams from your cabin," the gruff voice of Saul Tigh filtered through the handset. "Thought I'd better check..." He hung up on his XO.
Laura raised an interrogative eyebrow.
"Wrong number," he said shortly.
She let the matter go, clearing the plates from the table and dumping them in the kitchenette. He watched her bare legs with unabashed appreciation as she moved about the cabin.
As she returned she caught him... appreciating, and prowled across the room.
"Yes?" she said, pouring herself into his lap.
"Oh, nothing." He wrapped and arm around her waist and slid a possessive hand over her legs. "I was thinking - I wanted to take things slowly tonight, but a certain attractive red-head overturned my plans.
"But if you think about it, we've been taking things slowly for three years," she said, tracing the skin revealed by the neckline of his robe with a finger.
"True," he agreed.
"And fast can be good too," she continued, giving his earlobe a provocative nip.
He gasped, then captured her mouth for a leisurely kiss, his hand straying under the hemline of the shirt.
"Stay here tonight?" he whispered as he kissed her neck.
There was a certain... stillness in her body; as if she were trying to find a way to say "no" without hurting him.
"You don't have to," he said, giving her a graceful way out. He knew she had to consider the political implications of such an action. She placed her fingers over his lips, stopping the words.
"I wouldn't want to scare your crew in the morning when they bring you your morning reports. Besides, it's a little hard to appear Presidential when you're in bed, naked and looking like you've been well-frakked."
"You'd be surprised," he disagreed, smoothing down her hair. "And I've never seen you looking more beautiful than you do at the moment."
Her eyes glowed at the complement.
"Besides," he continued in an off-hand tone, "my crew already have a fair idea of what went on here tonight."
She looked puzzled. He jerked his chin in the direction of the hatch.
"You forget we've both got a guard on duty outside that door. The cabins aren't that soundproof."
He was amused to see a blush heating her cheeks.
"Oh gods!" she said, burying her now-scarlet face in his shoulder. "I have to stay now - forever. I can't go back out and face them."
He rubbed her back consolingly, just enjoying the feel of her against him. After a while, the tension left her body and her color returned to normal.
"I could live with you staying here forever," he whispered into her hair.
She pulled back so she could look at him, her heart in her eyes.
"Stay?" he repeated, stroking her cheek.
She looked at him for a long moment. Then nodded.
"I'll stay."
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
< Previous chapter
Author: Rowen
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Rating: NC17 / R
Spoilers: Set just after the season 3 episode: "Dirty Hands". In this world, none of the episodes after that exist.
Synopsis: Just how do you go about wooing the President when you're the Admiral of the Fleet?
Pairing: Adama/Roslin
Genre: Romance
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to SciFi and lots of other people but not me.
Notes: NOTE THE RATING CHANGE.
If you are not over the legal age in your country/state, go away now!
If you prefer to read a version that is a little tamer, I'll be posting an edited part 5 to fanfiction.net within the next day or so.
Chapter 5 - Another dinner
Bill lit the last candle then surveyed the table, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Plates; cutlery; glasses; napkins; candles. The only thing missing were flowers: those being virtually impossible to obtain since the destruction of Cloud Nine. He dimmed the main cabin lights, leaving only the lamps on, and contemplated his collection of recorded music. Would music be too much? Did it scream "seduction in progress" or was it the perfect romantic touch?
There was no time to consider the question, as at that moment the hatch opened and in stepped Laura. Coolly elegant in her black suit, her red hair shining in the corridor lights. She stopped just inside the door, her eyes quickly assessing the scene, then turned and did something she'd never done in his cabin before: spun the locking wheel of the hatch and secured it.
Bill swallowed hard: apparently there was no doubt in either of their minds just what was being contemplated here tonight.
"If I'd known you were going to go to this much trouble I would have worn my red dress," she said with a smile, leaning back against the door. Her voice was low and smooth, and seemed to make the cabin feel five degrees warmer.
'Laura, if you'd worn that dress it would be on the floor right now and I'd be taking you up against the bulkhead,' he thought. He cleared his throat, trying to banish the very vivid images that accompanied the thought.
"That would definitely have set my crew's tongues wagging," he said lightly.
She looked at him with knowing eyes - as if she'd somehow heard the unvoiced thought.
"Your crew were gossiping about us even before we started dating, Bill," she pointed out, moving further into the cabin and stopping a couple of feet from him.
"Yes, I suppose they were," he said, resisting the urge to loosen the collar of his casual shirt as the temperature in the room climbed higher the closer she came. "And with the constant newspaper coverage we're getting..."
"People love to gossip," she said softly, reaching out a hand and lightly touched his chest. "The more salacious, the better."
He covered the hand with his own, feeling his heart thundering in his chest.
"Drink?" he asked, trying to force his body back into equilibrium from the heightened state her touch had produced.
She nodded. "Please."
He could feel her eyes on his back as he poured two glasses of wine. As he handed one to her, her fingers slid over his. Quite deliberately, he was sure.
"Thank you," she said, taking a sip; her eyes never leaving his.
He limited himself to a short nod, wrapping his fingers around his own glass: concentrating on that, rather than the beguiling woman in front of him.
'Slow and steady, Bill,' he reminded himself. No matter how desperately he wanted to reach for her. The rewards of a slow seduction were tenfold; something youngsters often failed to appreciate as they jumped straight to the "good part."
"I was about to put on some music," he said, taking a sip of the wine. "Perhaps you could do the honors while I check on the dinner?" He gestured to his collection of recorded music.
"Of course," she agreed, pulling her glasses from a pocket.
When he returned from the kitchenette, he was confronted by a magnificent sight.
Laura had removed her jacket and was standing in front of the shelves, leaning forward to examine the titles of the recordings. He let his gaze slowly wander up her legs, then linger on her taut, rounded backside which was being displayed to perfection by her posture and short, tight skirt.
"I'm afraid I'm going to need some help here," she confessed, straightening up. "I'm not familiar with a lot of these works. I wouldn't want to choose something... inappropriate."
"Of course." He moved close behind her; close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. As he reached past her to the shelf, his hand rested lightly on her hip. For balance, of course.
"This should be... suitable," he said in a low voice, his breath stirring her hair.
With a light caress he pulled back, feeling her shiver beneath the touch. He pretended not to notice the reaction, as he put the recording in the player. The sound of instrumental music filled the cabin. It was lush, sumptuous and unashamedly sensual. Laura's eyes drifted closed and her lips curved into a smile as she let the sound wash over her.
"Mmm... nice. I'll have to get a copy of this."
He watched her sway to the music for a moment, then couldn't stand it any longer. He placed his drink back on the desk and crossed the room to stand behind her. He hesitated a moment, then reached out and gently touched her waist.
She made a contented sound in her throat and leaned into him, letting her head fall back on his shoulder and covering his hands with her own; holding them firmly on her hips as they swayed to the music.
The feeling of her body against his was exhilarating. His lips found the side of her neck and brushed against the sensitive skin, which provoked shivers and caused her to gasp. Her hands guided his in a slow sensual pattern over the curve of her hips and waist as he continued to nuzzle the delicate skin of her neck and throat. So warm; so soft.
She pivoted in his arms so that they were face-to-face; pressed against each other from chest to thigh. Her lips brushed across his: tasting; teasing; while her hand guided one of his from her hips, over the dip of her waist and up to her breasts.
With a light touch, he caressed her through the silky fabric of her blouse. Breaking the kiss to look into her eyes, he popped open a button on the blouse; then a second; a third; revealing her breasts encased in a lacy white bra. With a trembling finger, he traced the soft skin from her shoulder and down over the swell of her breast; then he cupped her, his fingers lightly stroking.
"Bill... oh..." she gasped, arching into his touch. "Ahh... maybe you should turn the heat off in the kitchen, so dinner doesn't get ruined."
His hand stilled in its exploration, then withdrew.
Frak. Dinner. Where had all his resolutions about taking things slow gone? Out the air lock after more than three years of celibacy, possibly.
"Or we could eat now..." he suggested half-heartedly.
Laura's eyes flashed dangerously and she stabbed a finger at his chest.
"William Adama," she ground out fiercely, forcing him back step-by-step. "If you even think about stopping now..." The back of his legs hit the desk. "If you even contemplate it, I'll..."
The rest of her threat was lost as her pulled her close and covered her mouth with a passionate kiss. With a move that would have made a dancing master proud, he reversed their positions, so that she was the one pressed against the desk.
The kiss was hot, demanding and primal. He'd wanted this; fantasized about this for so long, that he couldn't get enough of her. Lack of oxygen finally forced them to break the lip-lock, and he kissed his way down her neck, deftly undoing the remaining buttons of her blouse, his hands roaming over her bare skin. She moaned, her head falling back, as she threaded her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to continue. Not that her needed any encouragement to keep ravishing her.
But there was something he was supposed to remember... something he was supposed to do...
"Dinner," he blurted out, his lips abruptly leaving her breast.
Her eyes were fogged with passion, and it took a moment for his non sequitur to be processed.
"Dinner," he explained. "I should..."
Her fingers on his lips silenced him.
"Quickly," she commanded.
It only took a moment to place the dinner in a warmer drawer, but by the time he returned...
"Frak me," he whispered under his breath, taking in the sight before him.
Laura had divested herself of blouse, skirt, stockings and shoes and was sitting on the edge of his desk; legs crossed and clad only in lacy white bra and panties. Her legs - her glorious legs - seemed to go on forever, although the small part of his brain that was still capable of logical reasoning insisted this was impossible, given that she was close to his height. But impossible or not, there they were.
His eyes raked up her body with tangible force, burning the image into his memory.
"Gods, you're beautiful," he whispered, forgetting in that instant that he didn't believe in the gods.
His shirt was unbuttoned by the time he crossed the intervening space, falling to the floor beneath his feet. As he reached her, one of his arms went around her waist; his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back to look at him. He felt her legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer.
"I'm going to have a lot of trouble working at this desk now," he said in a voice rough with passion. "Every time I try, I'll see an image of you... sitting here like this..."
She arched against him, bringing them into more intimate contact.
"So I don't suppose you want to take me here like this, Sir," she said in a breathy voice, looking at him through half-closed eyes.
For their first time together, he knew he definitely wanted her in his bed. But next time... The idea of frakking her on his desk was almost intoxicating.... But then so was the idea of against the bulkhead; or in the shower; or...
He growled, slid his hands under her backside and picked her up, carrying her across to his rack. With care, he deposited her on the bed.
"I'm shocked that you'd make a suggestion like that, Madam President," he said, removing his shoes and trousers in record time. "If your constituents knew..."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tilted her head back and gave him a downright wicked look, while she ran a finger just under the waistband of his boxers.
"You never know, I might actually get more votes..."
She grasped the waistband of the boxers with both hands and carefully pulled them down.
"My, my..." she murmured, looking at the view that had just been revealed. She leaned forward, grasping his hips and he could feel her breath across his...
He almost groaned as she pulled back without making contact.
"Have you left word that you're not to be disturbed?" she asked, somehow managing to look very presidential, despite their position and lack of clothes. "Unless at least four base stars manage to track us down, I don't want to hear that telephone ring, or have someone knocking on the hatch."
He nodded.
"Good. We wouldn't want any more interruptions..."
This time he did groan as a wet heat engulfed him. He resisted the urge to weave his fingers through her hair and pull her closer; instead he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.
He looked down, and the only coherent thought that came to mind was: 'The President of the Colonies is giving me a blow job!' which quickly transformed to: 'Laura is giving me a frakking blow job.' Which was far more mind-blowing.
And she was very good, too; things were progressing a lot faster than he had hoped.
"Laura."
She paused, her lips still wrapped around him and looked up. The sight in itself was almost enough to drive him over the edge.
"Laura. I need you to stop."
She looked up at him rebelliously for a moment, then with a look that was sheer wickedness, drew back, lightly scraping her teeth along his length. He gasped, then gave her a heated glare which she met with a mischievous look.
"Playing with fire, Laura," he warned, reaching down and cupping her chin. The expression on her face was one of anticipation and arousal. He realized at that moment that he'd been right when he'd originally had the thought all those months ago: Madame President had a thing for bad boys. And, perhaps, a few other...kinks... that could make this relationship... very interesting.
He tilted her head back and took possession of her lips with a searing kiss, relishing her moan. Her underwear quickly joined his on the floor as he pushed her down onto the bed, covering her body with his own.
She was responsive beyond his wildest dreams, writhing and arching beneath him as he explored her body; arousing her to the point of orgasm then backing off, only to do it again.
"Bill! Please!!" she begged, tossing her head back and forth on the pillow. "I need... I need you... ahh!!!"
She clutched at his back, her fingernails scoring the skin as he slowly pushed into her. He held himself still for a few moments, letting her body adjust to him.
Her hands on his buttocks urged him deeper... faster... then he felt her spasm around his, as she cried out in pleasure. It didn't take much more, and he joined her, spiraling into wave after wave of ecstasy.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
It was later... much later... by the time they got around to eating dinner. The candles had burned low, but the food was still edible. He sat at the table wrapped in his bathrobe, while Laura wore one of his t-shirts... and nothing else. Something he found incredibly sexy and immensely distracting. As were the constant looks and caresses they exchanged throughout the meal.
They had barely finished eating when the phone rang.
"You've got to be frakking kidding me," Laura muttered.
"Adama."
"Somebody reported hearing screams from your cabin," the gruff voice of Saul Tigh filtered through the handset. "Thought I'd better check..." He hung up on his XO.
Laura raised an interrogative eyebrow.
"Wrong number," he said shortly.
She let the matter go, clearing the plates from the table and dumping them in the kitchenette. He watched her bare legs with unabashed appreciation as she moved about the cabin.
As she returned she caught him... appreciating, and prowled across the room.
"Yes?" she said, pouring herself into his lap.
"Oh, nothing." He wrapped and arm around her waist and slid a possessive hand over her legs. "I was thinking - I wanted to take things slowly tonight, but a certain attractive red-head overturned my plans.
"But if you think about it, we've been taking things slowly for three years," she said, tracing the skin revealed by the neckline of his robe with a finger.
"True," he agreed.
"And fast can be good too," she continued, giving his earlobe a provocative nip.
He gasped, then captured her mouth for a leisurely kiss, his hand straying under the hemline of the shirt.
"Stay here tonight?" he whispered as he kissed her neck.
There was a certain... stillness in her body; as if she were trying to find a way to say "no" without hurting him.
"You don't have to," he said, giving her a graceful way out. He knew she had to consider the political implications of such an action. She placed her fingers over his lips, stopping the words.
"I wouldn't want to scare your crew in the morning when they bring you your morning reports. Besides, it's a little hard to appear Presidential when you're in bed, naked and looking like you've been well-frakked."
"You'd be surprised," he disagreed, smoothing down her hair. "And I've never seen you looking more beautiful than you do at the moment."
Her eyes glowed at the complement.
"Besides," he continued in an off-hand tone, "my crew already have a fair idea of what went on here tonight."
She looked puzzled. He jerked his chin in the direction of the hatch.
"You forget we've both got a guard on duty outside that door. The cabins aren't that soundproof."
He was amused to see a blush heating her cheeks.
"Oh gods!" she said, burying her now-scarlet face in his shoulder. "I have to stay now - forever. I can't go back out and face them."
He rubbed her back consolingly, just enjoying the feel of her against him. After a while, the tension left her body and her color returned to normal.
"I could live with you staying here forever," he whispered into her hair.
She pulled back so she could look at him, her heart in her eyes.
"Stay?" he repeated, stroking her cheek.
She looked at him for a long moment. Then nodded.
"I'll stay."
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
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