Better Left Unsaid (6/12)
Title: Better Left Unsaid (Part 6/12)
Author: snoopy0917
Pairing: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Rating: MA
Timeline: Crossroads Part 1 through Escape Velocity
Summary: There were the things Laura Roslin wanted and the things Laura Roslin needed. In a simpler world they would have overlapped. Instead, they stood in stark, irreconcilable conflict.
A/N: Honestly, so many people have had a hand in shaping little parts of this fic, I don’t even know where to start with my gratitude. Huge thanks go to icedteainthebag and i_am_davnee for betaing, and for zaleti and larsfarm77 for reading it through and giving me some insightful comments. And to flamingo55 and unavitasegreta for reading through bits and pieces ages ago and offering opinions. And to tjonesy who with a stray comment a year ago, prompted me to turn this short story into a very long and much more complex one. And a second thank you to i_am_davnee for keeping me sane over the last eight months. It means the world to me.
This story is complete in ten parts. I’ll be posting a part a day until it’s completed. Oh, and btw, I don’t own the characters. If I did, I’d have a lot more money. However, the story is all mine.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
She was always tired.
Laura didn’t sleep well anymore. The exhaustion had seeped into her bones and refused to be sated. She was too weary to ever fully relax. Too restless, too queasy, too unsettled to slumber through the sparse hours she could steal. Her body rebelled, refused, ignored her needs and did the opposite just to spite her. Forced her to conserve her energy. To ration it, treasure it, and spend it wisely. To save it for the important moments.
When she woke, that morning, she almost felt rested.
She was tightly cocooned in something stronger and softer than blankets. Mind foggy still with half-formed dreams, Laura burrowed further into the cozy warmth. Inhaling deeply, she sighed happily as she realized it was Bill. Laura luxuriated in his familiar scent. In the feel of his body stretched alongside hers. In the weight of his arm curled around her waist. In the hot puffs of breath warming her neck and the languid hum of her sated limbs.
She stiffened abruptly when she realized it was real.
She’d never gotten the hang of mornings after. Somehow things were always awkward. Always wrong. Waking with a man was laced with such casual intimacy. It demanded trust and vulnerability and a host of other things she wasn’t quite willing to relinquish. She never knew what to do. What to say. How to navigate the simple moments in between.
It was one thing to frak a man. It was quite another to sleep with one.
With Bill, it had always been strangely natural.
She’d loved the way his body chased hers in sleep. The way she’d always woke wrapped in his arms. He had been so warm beside her, so large and comforting and full of life. She’d loved snuggling into to him on the cold New Caprican mornings, giggling as his calves flinched away from her cold feet. Soaking up the heat from his furnace of a chest, warmth that she could never replicate with blankets and a makeshift stove.
She had loved it when he woke her with soft kisses. When he’d nuzzled her temple and cradled her cheek. When she’d opened her eyes and found him watching her, bleary eyes smiling in the dim light, relishing the few unguarded moments they could steal before the rest of the world demanded their attention.
With as little movement as she could manage, Laura blinked open her eyes and found the clock.
It was early. Late enough to be considered morning, but far too early to get out of bed.
Glancing nervously back at his soundly slumbering form, Laura tried to relax her limbs, fighting the urge to wriggle out of his embrace, snatch up a change of clothes, and retreat to the bathroom.
Bill fidgeted behind her, his arm pulling her closer as he snuggled into her back. His hand rubbed against her stomach, sleepily finding a way under her pajama top to caress the soft skin. His legs tangled with hers, bare calves slipping against the silk of her pants as he moved restlessly. As his dreams grew more vivid as the clock crept steadily forward.
His hips pressed into hers, instinctively craving the contact. She could feel his soft cock twitch against her ass. Feel him slowly harden and swell as he panted into her neck. Feel him undulate against her, hips rolling, mimicking the long, lazy thrusts she loved.
Laura closed her eyes again and swallowed hard as she remembered the night before. He’d surrendered so willingly, touched her so eagerly. So passionately. So reverently. Moaned into her skin. Thrust up into her hips. Greedily savored the contact. Selflessly given her what she’d needed.
He’d been so generous. So enthusiastic. So decadently uninhibited.
And she’d fallen asleep.
She’d thought she could handle the intimacy. Could manage her body’s reactions and respond the way she’d wanted. Could take what she’d craved for so long without messy consequences and without unwanted side effects. She’d only thought about cheating reality with a night of shared pleasure. Bill could make her feel so good. It had been days since her last treatment. The nausea had faded and her strength was slowly building. She’d thought her body would frakking cooperate for once.
She hated being wrong. Now more than ever.
She shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have given into a moment of need and weakness and frustration and futility. Shouldn’t have let herself justify the encounter. She should have kept the distance between them, even if it meant nothing in the end. The intimacy would only make things harder for both of them. It was dangerous for her to be so close to Bill. To have to watch his face, see the pain clouding his eyes and the weight buckling his shoulders as her health deteriorated. It would be easier for her to be left alone in sickbay. To be cared for by a team of faceless staff, professional and detached in their treatment of the withered President.
She shouldn’t have started something she couldn’t finish.
Laura turned in his arms. Bill shifted against her, dangerously close to waking before rolling onto his back and sliding into a deeper sleep, too exhausted to abandon the scant moments of rest he was allowed.
She pushed onto an elbow and examined him. Her fingers lifted of their own volition, powered by an irresistible urge to trace his worn features and comb through his tousled hair. To push aside the blankets and warm her hands on the firm planes of his chest.
Sometimes she thought she’d be happy to just look at him. To just touch him. Trail her fingers across his body and memorize every line. Every crag and crevice. Every muscle, hard and soft. Every texture. Every moan, every sigh, every last response she could coax from his flesh.
“Laura.”
His slurred whisper demanded her attention. Still swept up in the reality of his dream, Bill kissed the pads of her fingers, sleep-heavy lips and tongue messy against her skin. A fond smile tugged at her mouth as his hands reached for her. He shifted back onto his side, arm locking around her waist, hips seeking her missing warmth. Soft lips brushed drowsily across her face in search of hers.
She should slip out of the bed. But it was too late to pull back now. And she couldn't resist kissing him back.
She tasted him lightly, almost chastely, savoring the flavor of his lips before deepening the contact. Slowly, Laura explored his mouth, tilting her head and tangling her tongue with his, nudging him towards consciousness with unhurried kisses. His mouth opened willingly, inviting her to delve deeper. She refused to disappoint.
She knew the moment he woke. Bill gasped slightly around her tongue, hands tightening on her hip and shoulder before his muscles relaxed. Before his arms flexed around her body and his tongue pushed languidly back into her mouth.
She hooked a leg around his hip, thigh rubbing steadily against his waist. Her hips rolled softly into his, matching the slow, easy rhythm of their tongues, teasing his length as it rubbed against her pelvis. She let him take control of the embrace, humming against his lips as he tasted her, urgent exploration barely tempered by his groggy limbs and semi-conscious state.
“Morning already?” Bill grumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
“Not quite,” she murmured, unable to control the warm smile blossoming across her face.
“Good.”
He kissed her again, nibbling at her lips. His large palm reached lower, warming her thigh through the light fabric of her pajamas.
“Good dream?” she asked unnecessarily, the evidence throbbing against her hip. His mouth dropped to taste the curve of her throat.
“Yeah,” he grunted into her flesh, hand tightening on her thigh and pulling her closer, fitting a leg between hers.
“Was I in it?” she teased softly. She squirmed up the pillow, resting her cheek against the crown of his head as her fingers raked fondly through his rumpled hair.
“What do you think?”
His hand slid under her shirt. Brushed across her waist, dancing lightly along her spine before dipping underneath her pajama pants. Touches growing firmer, more calculated, more confident as he woke up. As the caresses set her skin tingling.
She loved frakking him in the morning. Loved waking both their bodies with passion. Loved how his touches gradually gained focus, how he was both lazy and direct. He was always unguarded this early, stripped down to his basic wants and desires. After, her body always hummed for the rest of the day, resonating loudly whenever she thought of him. Whenever she ached and remembered the reason why.
She could feel her own desire trying to stir. It was a faint thread, a trickle that refused to intensify. A dampness between her legs that couldn’t fully articulate. The fledgling desire was smothered by her weary limbs. By the dull ache in her breast. By the mild unsteadiness she always seemed to feel now.
Laura tried to push it aside. But her body refused to let her forget.
She still wanted him. Wanted to disappear under the covers and wake him with her mouth. Wanted to shove aside the sheets, strip away their clothes and straddle him, mount him, feel him stretch her with his hard length. She wanted to ride him, to frak him until he was writhing beneath her. Until neither of them could breathe. Until the world narrowed, their bodies tightened, and Bill came inside her, arching his neck back and calling her name in that husky moan that curled her toes.
It was foolish and reckless and greedy. But she deserved to be selfish for once. Even if the cost was too great. Even if she’d have to settle for less that what she really wanted.
This morning, she’d settle for touching him.
She rolled them, pushing him onto his back again and half-propping herself over him. She broke the kiss and looked down at him, smiling indulgently at the lazy passion in his eyes. At the unguarded way he stared back.
She sat up more fully and loosed her hands, lightly tracing the muscles of his arms and exploring his solid chest with firm, swirling touches. He grunted contentedly, shifting against the mattress and kicking the sheets away from their bodies.
She cupped his chin, kissing the creases on his brow, the worn ridges in his cheeks, the soft lids of his eyes before returning to his lips. Before returning her hands to his arms. To his chest. To slide even further south, across the swell of his stomach to tease the band of his boxer-briefs.
He groaned into her mouth as she fluttered her fingers along his still-rigid length, hips pushing unconsciously into the promise of her touch. His hands refused to remain idle. One cradled the back of her skull, pulling her mouth more firmly against his. The other snuck inside her pajamas and panties, fingers squeezing her ass fondly before dancing across the soft skin of her hip towards her center.
She stilled his hand before he found her too-dry folds. Pulling back slightly, Laura caught his eyes and shook her head slightly. With a determined smile, she kissed his palm before planting his hand on the mattress and returned hers to his cotton-covered hardness.
“What are you doing, Laura?”
“Has it really been that long, Bill?”
Her words were light and teasing, designed to deflecting the emotion bleeding through his tone. The layered questions he needed her to answer. The topics they’d skirted for so long.
He gave her a look. Deep blue eyes strong and silent, piercing through to the heart of the matter.
“Laura, I want to touch you.”
She shook her head, nipping playfully at his jaw. “It’s your turn.”
“We’re not keeping score.”
She opened her mouth, grasping for a flip response. Words escaped her. He waited, his free hand lifting to stroke her skull, thumb brushing her cheekbone as he watched her with now wide-open eyes.
She hummed into his touch, snuggling into his palm. Trying to change the topic without words.
Bill refused to be deterred.
“What do you want here, Laura?”
His voice was soft but unflinching. Determined as he settled back against the pillow and waited for a response.
Her fingers clenched and released, absently scratching against his scar. It was her chance to pull back. To break things. To label this an indiscretion. A one-off. A moment of weakness. A mistake that she wouldn’t repeat.
She could blame their responsibilities. She could blame her illness. He would respect either choice. Would let her walk away, no matter how much it pained him.
“Bill,” she sighed, gathering her resolve. “I want to touch you.”
She squeezed him firmly again through his shorts, lips latching onto the spot just below his ear that she knew would drive him to distraction.
He acquiesced, sinking into the mattress, arching into her mouth as she nipped at his neck, the shell of his ear, the line of jaw.
She slid down his boxer briefs with her foot, hooking her toes into the waistband and savoring his moan as the cotton scraped across his groin. She laughed softly as he bobbed free, straining mindlessly towards her body, already flushed and rigid.
She grasped his length, smiling into his neck as he fit perfectly into her palm. As he jerked into her touch, twitching as she stroked him firmly once from root to tip. She shifted slightly, moving closer to get a better look. To relearn the smooth skin of his shaft, the vein splitting the underside, the thick girth, the broad head. She watched her fingers explore him lightly. Smiled as he groaned under her hands. As the smooth heat burned her palm.
She knew exactly how to work him, the rhythm and pressure he preferred. The reactions she could tease out of him. The different ways to drive him insane.
She’d loved learning him those first few times. Had planted herself near his waist, mouth nibbling at his hip as she played with him. As she’d experimented with varied touches, carefully cataloguing each response. As she’d snagged his hand and ordered, “Touch yourself, Bill. Show me what you like.”
He’d chuckled, shaking his head and grinning widely at her intent expression as he wrapped his fingers around himself and stroked.
She’d been entranced, watching his cock slide through his palm. She’d memorized his movements. Mimicked them. Added her own devilish flairs. Subtly repeated them at inopportune times, sneaking discrete gropes under tables and behind tents. Tickling and teasing him and driving him wild until he pulled her into the nearest secluded space and frakked her until she was gasping for breath.
“That feels so good, Laura. Missed you.”
Bill was close. She dragged her fingers up from the base to play with the head of his erection. He was slick with his arousal. The silky fluid coated her fingers as she spread it across the smooth skin, as she lubed his shaft and refocused her touches.
She sucked on his neck as he dropped his head back, feeling his groan vibrate against her lips. Pushing herself onto an elbow, Laura twisted her wrist in his favorite rhythm. His hips rolled into the touch, feet planting into the mattress and thrusting up into her fist.
She wanted to make it last. Wanted to draw it out and pleasure him as much as she could. Wanted to ease her way down his body and taste him.
But he was too keyed up. His breathing quickened. His legs spread, thighs moving restlessly against hers. His hands reached out. One snaked around her waist. The other dropped to cup and tug at his balls as she worked his cock.
She swore softly at the sight, kissing him hungrily as his muscles coiled. As his body stiffened. As he grunted harshly and bit her lip. As he came groaning her name into her mouth as he shot thick ropes of fluid over her hand.
He collapsed back against the pillow, sweaty and gasping for breath. Turning slightly in her arms, he mouthed her shoulder. His muscles twitched jerkily as she slowly guided him down from his high, fondly stroking and squeezing his softening length.
Her arm was starting to ache from the awkward position. She released him with a soft sigh, carefully sitting up. She tossed a guilty glance towards the bathroom before resignedly snagging Bill’s tanks from the floor next to the rack and delicately cleaning her hand and his groin. He hissed at the touch, soft cotton rough on his still sensitive flesh. She stroked him soothingly, lowering her head to kiss the tip in apology before lying back down and pulling the sheets over them both.
His lips sought hers again when she curled into him, sucking hungrily on her swollen mouth. Nudging her lips open with his tongue, Bill kissed her languidly. His hands skated delicately over her body, tugging insistently against her clothes. Slipped damply across the silk of her pajamas, slick fingers catching in the fabric. One hand snuck back under her waistband, cupping her ass warmly and squeezing, massaging gently as his fingers worked towards the wetness that had warmed her center.
She glanced at the clock again, feeling her eyelids droop as the omnipresent weariness reasserted itself. They could steal another hour of sleep before the alarm sounded.
She reached down and wound her fingers with his. Kissed away their mingled fluids and pulled his arm back around her, burrowing deep into his chest.
“Later, Bill,” she promised them both.
Author: snoopy0917
Pairing: Bill Adama/Laura Roslin
Rating: MA
Timeline: Crossroads Part 1 through Escape Velocity
Summary: There were the things Laura Roslin wanted and the things Laura Roslin needed. In a simpler world they would have overlapped. Instead, they stood in stark, irreconcilable conflict.
A/N: Honestly, so many people have had a hand in shaping little parts of this fic, I don’t even know where to start with my gratitude. Huge thanks go to icedteainthebag and i_am_davnee for betaing, and for zaleti and larsfarm77 for reading it through and giving me some insightful comments. And to flamingo55 and unavitasegreta for reading through bits and pieces ages ago and offering opinions. And to tjonesy who with a stray comment a year ago, prompted me to turn this short story into a very long and much more complex one. And a second thank you to i_am_davnee for keeping me sane over the last eight months. It means the world to me.
This story is complete in ten parts. I’ll be posting a part a day until it’s completed. Oh, and btw, I don’t own the characters. If I did, I’d have a lot more money. However, the story is all mine.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
She was always tired.
Laura didn’t sleep well anymore. The exhaustion had seeped into her bones and refused to be sated. She was too weary to ever fully relax. Too restless, too queasy, too unsettled to slumber through the sparse hours she could steal. Her body rebelled, refused, ignored her needs and did the opposite just to spite her. Forced her to conserve her energy. To ration it, treasure it, and spend it wisely. To save it for the important moments.
When she woke, that morning, she almost felt rested.
She was tightly cocooned in something stronger and softer than blankets. Mind foggy still with half-formed dreams, Laura burrowed further into the cozy warmth. Inhaling deeply, she sighed happily as she realized it was Bill. Laura luxuriated in his familiar scent. In the feel of his body stretched alongside hers. In the weight of his arm curled around her waist. In the hot puffs of breath warming her neck and the languid hum of her sated limbs.
She stiffened abruptly when she realized it was real.
She’d never gotten the hang of mornings after. Somehow things were always awkward. Always wrong. Waking with a man was laced with such casual intimacy. It demanded trust and vulnerability and a host of other things she wasn’t quite willing to relinquish. She never knew what to do. What to say. How to navigate the simple moments in between.
It was one thing to frak a man. It was quite another to sleep with one.
With Bill, it had always been strangely natural.
She’d loved the way his body chased hers in sleep. The way she’d always woke wrapped in his arms. He had been so warm beside her, so large and comforting and full of life. She’d loved snuggling into to him on the cold New Caprican mornings, giggling as his calves flinched away from her cold feet. Soaking up the heat from his furnace of a chest, warmth that she could never replicate with blankets and a makeshift stove.
She had loved it when he woke her with soft kisses. When he’d nuzzled her temple and cradled her cheek. When she’d opened her eyes and found him watching her, bleary eyes smiling in the dim light, relishing the few unguarded moments they could steal before the rest of the world demanded their attention.
With as little movement as she could manage, Laura blinked open her eyes and found the clock.
It was early. Late enough to be considered morning, but far too early to get out of bed.
Glancing nervously back at his soundly slumbering form, Laura tried to relax her limbs, fighting the urge to wriggle out of his embrace, snatch up a change of clothes, and retreat to the bathroom.
Bill fidgeted behind her, his arm pulling her closer as he snuggled into her back. His hand rubbed against her stomach, sleepily finding a way under her pajama top to caress the soft skin. His legs tangled with hers, bare calves slipping against the silk of her pants as he moved restlessly. As his dreams grew more vivid as the clock crept steadily forward.
His hips pressed into hers, instinctively craving the contact. She could feel his soft cock twitch against her ass. Feel him slowly harden and swell as he panted into her neck. Feel him undulate against her, hips rolling, mimicking the long, lazy thrusts she loved.
Laura closed her eyes again and swallowed hard as she remembered the night before. He’d surrendered so willingly, touched her so eagerly. So passionately. So reverently. Moaned into her skin. Thrust up into her hips. Greedily savored the contact. Selflessly given her what she’d needed.
He’d been so generous. So enthusiastic. So decadently uninhibited.
And she’d fallen asleep.
She’d thought she could handle the intimacy. Could manage her body’s reactions and respond the way she’d wanted. Could take what she’d craved for so long without messy consequences and without unwanted side effects. She’d only thought about cheating reality with a night of shared pleasure. Bill could make her feel so good. It had been days since her last treatment. The nausea had faded and her strength was slowly building. She’d thought her body would frakking cooperate for once.
She hated being wrong. Now more than ever.
She shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have given into a moment of need and weakness and frustration and futility. Shouldn’t have let herself justify the encounter. She should have kept the distance between them, even if it meant nothing in the end. The intimacy would only make things harder for both of them. It was dangerous for her to be so close to Bill. To have to watch his face, see the pain clouding his eyes and the weight buckling his shoulders as her health deteriorated. It would be easier for her to be left alone in sickbay. To be cared for by a team of faceless staff, professional and detached in their treatment of the withered President.
She shouldn’t have started something she couldn’t finish.
Laura turned in his arms. Bill shifted against her, dangerously close to waking before rolling onto his back and sliding into a deeper sleep, too exhausted to abandon the scant moments of rest he was allowed.
She pushed onto an elbow and examined him. Her fingers lifted of their own volition, powered by an irresistible urge to trace his worn features and comb through his tousled hair. To push aside the blankets and warm her hands on the firm planes of his chest.
Sometimes she thought she’d be happy to just look at him. To just touch him. Trail her fingers across his body and memorize every line. Every crag and crevice. Every muscle, hard and soft. Every texture. Every moan, every sigh, every last response she could coax from his flesh.
“Laura.”
His slurred whisper demanded her attention. Still swept up in the reality of his dream, Bill kissed the pads of her fingers, sleep-heavy lips and tongue messy against her skin. A fond smile tugged at her mouth as his hands reached for her. He shifted back onto his side, arm locking around her waist, hips seeking her missing warmth. Soft lips brushed drowsily across her face in search of hers.
She should slip out of the bed. But it was too late to pull back now. And she couldn't resist kissing him back.
She tasted him lightly, almost chastely, savoring the flavor of his lips before deepening the contact. Slowly, Laura explored his mouth, tilting her head and tangling her tongue with his, nudging him towards consciousness with unhurried kisses. His mouth opened willingly, inviting her to delve deeper. She refused to disappoint.
She knew the moment he woke. Bill gasped slightly around her tongue, hands tightening on her hip and shoulder before his muscles relaxed. Before his arms flexed around her body and his tongue pushed languidly back into her mouth.
She hooked a leg around his hip, thigh rubbing steadily against his waist. Her hips rolled softly into his, matching the slow, easy rhythm of their tongues, teasing his length as it rubbed against her pelvis. She let him take control of the embrace, humming against his lips as he tasted her, urgent exploration barely tempered by his groggy limbs and semi-conscious state.
“Morning already?” Bill grumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
“Not quite,” she murmured, unable to control the warm smile blossoming across her face.
“Good.”
He kissed her again, nibbling at her lips. His large palm reached lower, warming her thigh through the light fabric of her pajamas.
“Good dream?” she asked unnecessarily, the evidence throbbing against her hip. His mouth dropped to taste the curve of her throat.
“Yeah,” he grunted into her flesh, hand tightening on her thigh and pulling her closer, fitting a leg between hers.
“Was I in it?” she teased softly. She squirmed up the pillow, resting her cheek against the crown of his head as her fingers raked fondly through his rumpled hair.
“What do you think?”
His hand slid under her shirt. Brushed across her waist, dancing lightly along her spine before dipping underneath her pajama pants. Touches growing firmer, more calculated, more confident as he woke up. As the caresses set her skin tingling.
She loved frakking him in the morning. Loved waking both their bodies with passion. Loved how his touches gradually gained focus, how he was both lazy and direct. He was always unguarded this early, stripped down to his basic wants and desires. After, her body always hummed for the rest of the day, resonating loudly whenever she thought of him. Whenever she ached and remembered the reason why.
She could feel her own desire trying to stir. It was a faint thread, a trickle that refused to intensify. A dampness between her legs that couldn’t fully articulate. The fledgling desire was smothered by her weary limbs. By the dull ache in her breast. By the mild unsteadiness she always seemed to feel now.
Laura tried to push it aside. But her body refused to let her forget.
She still wanted him. Wanted to disappear under the covers and wake him with her mouth. Wanted to shove aside the sheets, strip away their clothes and straddle him, mount him, feel him stretch her with his hard length. She wanted to ride him, to frak him until he was writhing beneath her. Until neither of them could breathe. Until the world narrowed, their bodies tightened, and Bill came inside her, arching his neck back and calling her name in that husky moan that curled her toes.
It was foolish and reckless and greedy. But she deserved to be selfish for once. Even if the cost was too great. Even if she’d have to settle for less that what she really wanted.
This morning, she’d settle for touching him.
She rolled them, pushing him onto his back again and half-propping herself over him. She broke the kiss and looked down at him, smiling indulgently at the lazy passion in his eyes. At the unguarded way he stared back.
She sat up more fully and loosed her hands, lightly tracing the muscles of his arms and exploring his solid chest with firm, swirling touches. He grunted contentedly, shifting against the mattress and kicking the sheets away from their bodies.
She cupped his chin, kissing the creases on his brow, the worn ridges in his cheeks, the soft lids of his eyes before returning to his lips. Before returning her hands to his arms. To his chest. To slide even further south, across the swell of his stomach to tease the band of his boxer-briefs.
He groaned into her mouth as she fluttered her fingers along his still-rigid length, hips pushing unconsciously into the promise of her touch. His hands refused to remain idle. One cradled the back of her skull, pulling her mouth more firmly against his. The other snuck inside her pajamas and panties, fingers squeezing her ass fondly before dancing across the soft skin of her hip towards her center.
She stilled his hand before he found her too-dry folds. Pulling back slightly, Laura caught his eyes and shook her head slightly. With a determined smile, she kissed his palm before planting his hand on the mattress and returned hers to his cotton-covered hardness.
“What are you doing, Laura?”
“Has it really been that long, Bill?”
Her words were light and teasing, designed to deflecting the emotion bleeding through his tone. The layered questions he needed her to answer. The topics they’d skirted for so long.
He gave her a look. Deep blue eyes strong and silent, piercing through to the heart of the matter.
“Laura, I want to touch you.”
She shook her head, nipping playfully at his jaw. “It’s your turn.”
“We’re not keeping score.”
She opened her mouth, grasping for a flip response. Words escaped her. He waited, his free hand lifting to stroke her skull, thumb brushing her cheekbone as he watched her with now wide-open eyes.
She hummed into his touch, snuggling into his palm. Trying to change the topic without words.
Bill refused to be deterred.
“What do you want here, Laura?”
His voice was soft but unflinching. Determined as he settled back against the pillow and waited for a response.
Her fingers clenched and released, absently scratching against his scar. It was her chance to pull back. To break things. To label this an indiscretion. A one-off. A moment of weakness. A mistake that she wouldn’t repeat.
She could blame their responsibilities. She could blame her illness. He would respect either choice. Would let her walk away, no matter how much it pained him.
“Bill,” she sighed, gathering her resolve. “I want to touch you.”
She squeezed him firmly again through his shorts, lips latching onto the spot just below his ear that she knew would drive him to distraction.
He acquiesced, sinking into the mattress, arching into her mouth as she nipped at his neck, the shell of his ear, the line of jaw.
She slid down his boxer briefs with her foot, hooking her toes into the waistband and savoring his moan as the cotton scraped across his groin. She laughed softly as he bobbed free, straining mindlessly towards her body, already flushed and rigid.
She grasped his length, smiling into his neck as he fit perfectly into her palm. As he jerked into her touch, twitching as she stroked him firmly once from root to tip. She shifted slightly, moving closer to get a better look. To relearn the smooth skin of his shaft, the vein splitting the underside, the thick girth, the broad head. She watched her fingers explore him lightly. Smiled as he groaned under her hands. As the smooth heat burned her palm.
She knew exactly how to work him, the rhythm and pressure he preferred. The reactions she could tease out of him. The different ways to drive him insane.
She’d loved learning him those first few times. Had planted herself near his waist, mouth nibbling at his hip as she played with him. As she’d experimented with varied touches, carefully cataloguing each response. As she’d snagged his hand and ordered, “Touch yourself, Bill. Show me what you like.”
He’d chuckled, shaking his head and grinning widely at her intent expression as he wrapped his fingers around himself and stroked.
She’d been entranced, watching his cock slide through his palm. She’d memorized his movements. Mimicked them. Added her own devilish flairs. Subtly repeated them at inopportune times, sneaking discrete gropes under tables and behind tents. Tickling and teasing him and driving him wild until he pulled her into the nearest secluded space and frakked her until she was gasping for breath.
“That feels so good, Laura. Missed you.”
Bill was close. She dragged her fingers up from the base to play with the head of his erection. He was slick with his arousal. The silky fluid coated her fingers as she spread it across the smooth skin, as she lubed his shaft and refocused her touches.
She sucked on his neck as he dropped his head back, feeling his groan vibrate against her lips. Pushing herself onto an elbow, Laura twisted her wrist in his favorite rhythm. His hips rolled into the touch, feet planting into the mattress and thrusting up into her fist.
She wanted to make it last. Wanted to draw it out and pleasure him as much as she could. Wanted to ease her way down his body and taste him.
But he was too keyed up. His breathing quickened. His legs spread, thighs moving restlessly against hers. His hands reached out. One snaked around her waist. The other dropped to cup and tug at his balls as she worked his cock.
She swore softly at the sight, kissing him hungrily as his muscles coiled. As his body stiffened. As he grunted harshly and bit her lip. As he came groaning her name into her mouth as he shot thick ropes of fluid over her hand.
He collapsed back against the pillow, sweaty and gasping for breath. Turning slightly in her arms, he mouthed her shoulder. His muscles twitched jerkily as she slowly guided him down from his high, fondly stroking and squeezing his softening length.
Her arm was starting to ache from the awkward position. She released him with a soft sigh, carefully sitting up. She tossed a guilty glance towards the bathroom before resignedly snagging Bill’s tanks from the floor next to the rack and delicately cleaning her hand and his groin. He hissed at the touch, soft cotton rough on his still sensitive flesh. She stroked him soothingly, lowering her head to kiss the tip in apology before lying back down and pulling the sheets over them both.
His lips sought hers again when she curled into him, sucking hungrily on her swollen mouth. Nudging her lips open with his tongue, Bill kissed her languidly. His hands skated delicately over her body, tugging insistently against her clothes. Slipped damply across the silk of her pajamas, slick fingers catching in the fabric. One hand snuck back under her waistband, cupping her ass warmly and squeezing, massaging gently as his fingers worked towards the wetness that had warmed her center.
She glanced at the clock again, feeling her eyelids droop as the omnipresent weariness reasserted itself. They could steal another hour of sleep before the alarm sounded.
She reached down and wound her fingers with his. Kissed away their mingled fluids and pulled his arm back around her, burrowing deep into his chest.
“Later, Bill,” she promised them both.