Fic: The Woman's Guide To Adultery, Laura/Ellen, (1/1)
Title: The Woman's Guide To Adultery
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (TV Show)
Characters: Roslin/Ellen
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, Humor
Summary: There had been some glaring from Laura and both the Ellen Tighs she’d seen before her head stopped spinning and her sight focussed again...
Length: 811 words
Status: Complete
A/N: For the second bsg_pornbattle. Prompt: stay away from my husband. Short version posted here. This one should have fitted damn it!
The Woman's Guide To Adultery
It started with a kiss.
No wait. Before that, there was alcohol.
So, it started in Joe’s bar trying to drink away her troubles.
Hold on, that can’t have been the beginning.
No it was earlier, before the drinks. Before storming through the ship’s corridors. Before putting her hand down Saul Tigh’s pants in front of his wife to make a point.
Sometime...yes, sometime between waking up in Bill’s arms and finding him leaning over the war-room table with Ellen Tigh’s hand on his ass. That was when it started.
She had been angry. So frakkin’ angry. Not at Bill, no, poor Bill probably hadn’t known what was happening to him. More victim than someone worthy of her wrath. Only one person was to blame for the entire scene. One thin, blonde, manipulative little prima donna with her big mouth and wandering hands. A mouth and hands that were currently being put to much better use beneath Laura’s skirt.
She’s pretty certain she hadn’t meant for this to happen. But with the alcohol still in her blood she can’t really be all that sure. Ellen isn’t that unlike the other women she’s done this with. In her younger days. When she didn’t have a reputation to uphold. So it’s possible it was always going to come to this. To long fingers flicking lazily at her clit while that tactless tongue fraks her with short sharp thrusts. If she’s lucky, she’ll get them the other way around too.
Whether she meant it to happen or not, she hadn’t gone searching for Ellen. In fact, she had been attempting to stay as far away from Ellen as possible after the blonde - not a natural blonde it turns out, Laura had always suspected that - had fled the CIC. She’d retrieved her hand, smiled her thanks at a rather odd looking Saul and headed towards Bill’s quarters to show the Commander just who he belonged to. Bill hadn’t been there, but Ellen was; sprawled across the couch like she belonged there. Like Laura was now. Except Ellen hadn’t spread her legs wide to make room for the body between them. At least, not yet. If she keeps up that thing with the little twist of her hand and the scrape of her teeth, she just might get that sooner than Laura planned.
There had been some glaring from Laura and both the Ellen Tighs she’d seen before her head stopped spinning and her sight focussed again. And some yelling. And Ellen had told her to “stay away from my husband.” You don’t get any more of an invitation than that. So Laura had accepted it and made her way, rather scenically, around the coffee table.
The couch had been soft against her bare feet - she has no idea where her shoes are, she expects they got lost in one of the corridors and hopes her guards picked them up - and Ellen’s lap kind of bony but her lips were warm and wet when Laura had kissed her. They’re still warm and wet as they blow hot air against Laura’s folds. She doesn’t mind that so much, when it’s being put to a purpose like this. She’s actually close now, the pressure building more quickly in time to the increased speed of Ellen’s fingers.
After the kissing had come more yelling. Something about outrages and “not like that”. And then some giggling, mostly Ellen’s and something about “Presidents” and “not everyday”. She’d bitten down on Ellen’s ear and told her what she had decided to do and it had been pretty quiet after that. Except for the noises; the groans and moans. The gasps and the one little hum that for once hadn’t been Laura’s and if she did say so herself, hadn’t been half as sexy as her own. She cries out as she comes, and adds that sound to the list of exceptions.
At some point she had let herself be pushed down flat on the couch and then Ellen had gone to work with an accuracy that belayed her earlier protests and hadn’t been the least bit surprising. Laura knew the type. Now, she pulls Ellen up and locks on to her lips again, tastes herself there and wonders at the difference between the taste on these lips and Bill’s. She switches their positions, something that was a lot easier when she was younger and sober and starts to push Ellen’s skirt up her thighs.
She thinks she has about fifteen minutes before Bill gets back to show this woman why Bill will never be hers. And she should still have enough time left over to undress and wash after sending Ellen on her way. The not-blonde had made quite the picture on the couch earlier and she’s certain that naked and waiting, she can make a much better one for Bill.
End.
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (TV Show)
Characters: Roslin/Ellen
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, Humor
Summary: There had been some glaring from Laura and both the Ellen Tighs she’d seen before her head stopped spinning and her sight focussed again...
Length: 811 words
Status: Complete
A/N: For the second bsg_pornbattle. Prompt: stay away from my husband. Short version posted here. This one should have fitted damn it!
The Woman's Guide To Adultery
It started with a kiss.
No wait. Before that, there was alcohol.
So, it started in Joe’s bar trying to drink away her troubles.
Hold on, that can’t have been the beginning.
No it was earlier, before the drinks. Before storming through the ship’s corridors. Before putting her hand down Saul Tigh’s pants in front of his wife to make a point.
Sometime...yes, sometime between waking up in Bill’s arms and finding him leaning over the war-room table with Ellen Tigh’s hand on his ass. That was when it started.
She had been angry. So frakkin’ angry. Not at Bill, no, poor Bill probably hadn’t known what was happening to him. More victim than someone worthy of her wrath. Only one person was to blame for the entire scene. One thin, blonde, manipulative little prima donna with her big mouth and wandering hands. A mouth and hands that were currently being put to much better use beneath Laura’s skirt.
She’s pretty certain she hadn’t meant for this to happen. But with the alcohol still in her blood she can’t really be all that sure. Ellen isn’t that unlike the other women she’s done this with. In her younger days. When she didn’t have a reputation to uphold. So it’s possible it was always going to come to this. To long fingers flicking lazily at her clit while that tactless tongue fraks her with short sharp thrusts. If she’s lucky, she’ll get them the other way around too.
Whether she meant it to happen or not, she hadn’t gone searching for Ellen. In fact, she had been attempting to stay as far away from Ellen as possible after the blonde - not a natural blonde it turns out, Laura had always suspected that - had fled the CIC. She’d retrieved her hand, smiled her thanks at a rather odd looking Saul and headed towards Bill’s quarters to show the Commander just who he belonged to. Bill hadn’t been there, but Ellen was; sprawled across the couch like she belonged there. Like Laura was now. Except Ellen hadn’t spread her legs wide to make room for the body between them. At least, not yet. If she keeps up that thing with the little twist of her hand and the scrape of her teeth, she just might get that sooner than Laura planned.
There had been some glaring from Laura and both the Ellen Tighs she’d seen before her head stopped spinning and her sight focussed again. And some yelling. And Ellen had told her to “stay away from my husband.” You don’t get any more of an invitation than that. So Laura had accepted it and made her way, rather scenically, around the coffee table.
The couch had been soft against her bare feet - she has no idea where her shoes are, she expects they got lost in one of the corridors and hopes her guards picked them up - and Ellen’s lap kind of bony but her lips were warm and wet when Laura had kissed her. They’re still warm and wet as they blow hot air against Laura’s folds. She doesn’t mind that so much, when it’s being put to a purpose like this. She’s actually close now, the pressure building more quickly in time to the increased speed of Ellen’s fingers.
After the kissing had come more yelling. Something about outrages and “not like that”. And then some giggling, mostly Ellen’s and something about “Presidents” and “not everyday”. She’d bitten down on Ellen’s ear and told her what she had decided to do and it had been pretty quiet after that. Except for the noises; the groans and moans. The gasps and the one little hum that for once hadn’t been Laura’s and if she did say so herself, hadn’t been half as sexy as her own. She cries out as she comes, and adds that sound to the list of exceptions.
At some point she had let herself be pushed down flat on the couch and then Ellen had gone to work with an accuracy that belayed her earlier protests and hadn’t been the least bit surprising. Laura knew the type. Now, she pulls Ellen up and locks on to her lips again, tastes herself there and wonders at the difference between the taste on these lips and Bill’s. She switches their positions, something that was a lot easier when she was younger and sober and starts to push Ellen’s skirt up her thighs.
She thinks she has about fifteen minutes before Bill gets back to show this woman why Bill will never be hers. And she should still have enough time left over to undress and wash after sending Ellen on her way. The not-blonde had made quite the picture on the couch earlier and she’s certain that naked and waiting, she can make a much better one for Bill.
End.