Fic: A Limit to Defy (BSG: Laura Roslin/unknown, M)
Title: A Limit to Defy
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Word Count: 420
Beta: sasha_lilyrat
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Laura Roslin/unknown
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: All you know is her, here, now.
A/N: Written for theastolat.
The path to this day's been laid out from the start, but even Laura admits it's something she could never have predicted. You've been thinking, lying here with her in your arms, about just how you got here.
But why waste the time? She'll have to return to Colonial One sometime soon; you know you should be making the most of this. After all, only she knows whether it'll ever happen again, be it here or there.
You know when she is gone you'll have to take your boots from in front of the door and let everyone else come in. It's not something you're looking forward to - you want a little time to yourself, afterwards, to savour the memory of having Laura Roslin in your rack.
Right now, though, you have her here.
"I like this," she sighs, wriggling back against you in a way that makes you shiver. The smile she directs at you over her shoulder is intimate, secretive and so warm a lump rises in your throat.
"Me, too," you tell her quietly, smoothing your palm up over the slight curve of her belly. She moans, her eyes falling shut, arching her body into your hand when you rub your thumb over her nipple. Hearing her like that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise; the sound goes right through you. You shift her body on top of yours, her back against your chest, and pinch gently where you had been stroking, your other hand sliding between her thighs. The groan from her there is ragged; you can't help but press your hips against her ass when you hear it.
She's so wet, under your fingers; so hot against your thighs.
"Frak, Laura," you gasp out, not even realising your grip on her has tightened until she moans even more loudly, grinding herself against your finger and thumb.
Her voice rises as you frak her, hands and mouth all busy on her slick skin, and you bite, just a little, knowing the sound she'll make.
In all your fantasies about having the President like this, you'd never expected her to be so loud.
It's hot. She is, with her body squirming against you, the sexy, sinuous curve of her spine and her blind, desperate seeking of your touch.
You forget all the others waiting to get into the room: all you know, all you see, all you feel is Laura Roslin, and this may be your only chance.
Anyone else can wait.
-fin
Author: Trialia
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: M
Word Count: 420
Beta: sasha_lilyrat
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Laura Roslin/unknown
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: All you know is her, here, now.
A/N: Written for theastolat.
The path to this day's been laid out from the start, but even Laura admits it's something she could never have predicted. You've been thinking, lying here with her in your arms, about just how you got here.
But why waste the time? She'll have to return to Colonial One sometime soon; you know you should be making the most of this. After all, only she knows whether it'll ever happen again, be it here or there.
You know when she is gone you'll have to take your boots from in front of the door and let everyone else come in. It's not something you're looking forward to - you want a little time to yourself, afterwards, to savour the memory of having Laura Roslin in your rack.
Right now, though, you have her here.
"I like this," she sighs, wriggling back against you in a way that makes you shiver. The smile she directs at you over her shoulder is intimate, secretive and so warm a lump rises in your throat.
"Me, too," you tell her quietly, smoothing your palm up over the slight curve of her belly. She moans, her eyes falling shut, arching her body into your hand when you rub your thumb over her nipple. Hearing her like that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise; the sound goes right through you. You shift her body on top of yours, her back against your chest, and pinch gently where you had been stroking, your other hand sliding between her thighs. The groan from her there is ragged; you can't help but press your hips against her ass when you hear it.
She's so wet, under your fingers; so hot against your thighs.
"Frak, Laura," you gasp out, not even realising your grip on her has tightened until she moans even more loudly, grinding herself against your finger and thumb.
Her voice rises as you frak her, hands and mouth all busy on her slick skin, and you bite, just a little, knowing the sound she'll make.
In all your fantasies about having the President like this, you'd never expected her to be so loud.
It's hot. She is, with her body squirming against you, the sexy, sinuous curve of her spine and her blind, desperate seeking of your touch.
You forget all the others waiting to get into the room: all you know, all you see, all you feel is Laura Roslin, and this may be your only chance.
Anyone else can wait.
-fin