FIC: Blocking the Sun's Glare
Title: Blocking the Sun's Glare
Author: bugs
Rating: MA
Genre: Romance, Smut, PWP
Word Count: 2,100
Summary: Building the cabin.
~*~
Bill released a satisfied breath as he stretched out on the picnic blanket. The sunlight reflecting off the lake warmed his naked body. He was perfectly exhausted, his limbs slack. The long hike from New Caprica's tent city, then...
"I'll build my cabin here." Laura had looked up at him, giving him a proud smile. It had been the easiest thing in the universe to lean over and kiss her. He'd intended it as a friend's kiss to show his approval. But she'd gone up on her toes to deepen the exchange and well...
He grinned.
The light breeze stirred her hair as she kissed along his body, her slightly chilly nose tracing after her lips. He lifted on heavy arm to aimlessly pat her shoulder. He couldn't return the favor if he wanted to. Even as she lifted his spent cock and laid it aside on her tour, not a inch of him could stir. He did notice it was hardly a lover's caress, but rather a businesslike inspection.
He was in too good of a mood to be offended. Perhaps she was taking inventory of her new possession. He chuckled.
She didn't ask what he found so funny, just kept nuzzling over his skin, lightly kissing old scars and snuffling like a flighty hound checking over another dog.
Sweeping her hair aside, he watched her expression as she was intent on her task--the same focus as when she had worked her way through a stack of reports.
He'd had a lot of assumptions about when--if--they ever made love. They'd behave like two adults, keep it as an exchange of pleasure, but with a dignity befitting their ages and positions.
That's why he hadn't responded to what had appeared to be a pretty obvious come-on from her on Groundbreaking Day. After all, he wasn't an idiot--he gave a little snort as she nipped his ribs; he was ticklish.
Stoned and drunk, he hadn't dared to act on his yearnings. He knew how he got when he was inebriated. He would have told her that he loved her in a flood of emotion, going into excruciating detail. As a stop-gap measure, he'd sang instead, forcing his tongue into unfamiliar movements to keep it from flapping.
.
Mercifully, he held his tongue today, but not his hands. Thank the gods she'd been wound just as tightly. There'd been nothing adult or dignified about the way they'd torn their clothes off, fallen to the blanket, their pants trapped around their ankles by their hiking boots. Only when finished had they taken the time to undress and enjoy the sun and isolation.
Laura gave him a nudge. "Roll over," she commanded.
He lazily raised one eyebrow at her order. With an oomph, he flopped onto his stomach.
There'd been no time for catalog her body as they'd wrangled on the blanket. With her arms still in the sleeves of her shirt, he hadn't even been able to remove her bra. Bu the only body parts necessary to complete the act were naked.
He replayed that moment, just as he'd turn a small piece of his model ship over and over before gluing it on. Like the frakkin' idiot he was with women, he'd hovered above her, sliding his cock along her pussy but not entering.
"Do you want this?" he had asked, not sure what 'this' was; his cock, a relationship, his love. He'd meant the question to come off as sexy, masterful, a man who already knows the answer when he asks, but his uncertainty showed in his voice.
Her response had been wordless, just the indignant arching of her eyebrow--the dirty look she'd shot him many times in the past when he hadn't complied with her wishes. As he tipped his hips and eased forward, he realized she could never be president again if he were to be the military leader. If she gave him that look in a meeting...
He'd expected her to close her eyes, turn away, just another instance of the little avoidances they did with each other--this time, avoiding answering the question he wasn't even sure what he was asking. But she held his gaze, looking up into his soul as he withdrew and slid forward again, trying to go deeper this time.
Only he couldn't. Instead of feeling some arrogant pride--I'm too big for her--he panicked. Somehow, he'd gotten in his mind that she'd only give him one chance and her flesh's resistance was symbolic of their entire stumbling relationship; he didn't fit into her life.
And then she had opened her knees wider, tilted her pelvis and gripped his hip to keep him from retreating. She raised her chin, challenging him.
"Bill," she whispered.
Encouraged, he tried again, finding the right angle this time to go a bit deeper. He withdrew, but only far enough to thrust forward again.
"Oh...Gods..." She released the words as though he was pushing them out of her. He was stunned by her expression. He'd never seen her face like this--wonder and more shockingly, submission. After her confident pursuit here on New Caprica, this was the last thing he expected to see.
He had to live up to it. Gently he swept her hair from her damp forehead, running his big thumb along her brow line. He eased deeper, slowly, but then retreating as soon as she became too tight.
In the friendliest way possible, she said: "Are you waiting for your FTL to spool up?"
He grinned back. That was the Laura he had expected in bed. His panic gone, he'd braced himself over her and had taken command. They had jumped together within a few minutes.
He smiled again--that had been a damn good first time. But he had years worth of fantasies to work through. He cradled his head on his folded arms as her hands spread across his back, squeezed his thighs, pushed apart--
"Hey," he rumbled.
She giggled and her lips moved upward to trace his spine. "Okay," she relented and she massaged his shoulders, gripping his muscles tightly.
Strength flowed through her fingers and tears gathered on his eyelids. Just a few months ago, she had been a husk, drying in his tender touch.
"Hmmm..." Her hands stilled.
It wasn't a murmur of a lover's explorations, it was an inquisitive sound no beaten-up, sixty year old man wanted to hear. He lifted his head. "What'd you find?"
"It's what I haven't found." She sat back on her heels.
He rolled onto his side and coaxed her loose shirt and bra off. Might as well not be the only naked person here.
"I'll get cold," she said, draping the shirt across her shoulders.
He was immediately concerned. "Are you okay?"
"I'm always cold."
Banishing the vision of her bundled in her thick robe from his mind, he peered over his shoulder. "What did you expect to find?"
"A tattoo."
"What?" He sat up and rubbed his already tousled hair. "Why would I have a tattoo?"
"You're a Tauron, right?"
"I'm a Caprican; that's what it said on my identity card."
"But wasn't your household Tauron? I mean, your father was famous for his Tauron-style litigation--"
"What does that mean?" He knew, but he wanted to hear her say it.
"A bull in the courtroom..." She lay her hand on his thigh and squeezed its thick muscle. "And you're pretty bullish yourself." She cocked her head, reading his shift in mood.
He grunted, gripping his kneecaps. Maybe he was getting a bit cold too.
Her quick fingers kept playing across his bare skin. "Not even one for your son?"
"I'm a Caprican," he repeated.
"Or are you not a Tauron," she suggested.
He peered at her from under his hair. "What does that mean?" he asked again.
Propping her chin on his shoulder, she shrugged off her shirt. He was immediately distracted. Breasts...Pretty breasts....Bare breasts....His lover's breasts...
"Perhaps you've avoided anything that may literally mark you as a Tauron," she murmured. Her fingertips roamed across his chest, connecting an old knife wound with his bold red scar, writing words he couldn't read upside down and backwards.
His brow furrowed, even as he began to gently stroke her left breast and watched the nipple instantly pucker at the attention. "I don't know what you're talkin' about," he grumbled before leaning over to replace his fingers with his mouth.
Her hands burrowed into his hair, holding him fast--that urgency of a few minutes ago was back. "I mean--" she gasped. "Uh, I mean...Were people ever cruel to you as a child? I remember Tauron children being teased at school."
"You would have stood up for me?" he mumbled against her skin.
"I wouldn't like anyone hurting you."
"Nobody's going to kick your dog," he said, his scar tightening at the edge to her voice. Maybe she did love him after all.
He lay back on the blanket, pulling her with him to straddle his chest.
She traced his weathered cheeks. "Did anyone kick you?"
He grinned. "Don't worry about it," he said lightly.
Her forehead creased with her consternation.
"Don't worry," he repeated. "All in the past." Spanning her ass with his wide palms, he gently urged her to slide closer, but he could see her expression shift to embarrassment and uncertainty.
He wanted to chide her, saying, don't be like that; I've seen you die; what's there to hide from me now?
Instead, he said: "Let me show you why the ladies call a mustache a tickler."
Even as she giggled, she was still brooding. "Why did we name this planet New Caprica? Are we all Capricans now?"
"You think too much," he said simply. Nipping the inside of her knee, he pushed her forward another inch.
She sighed and stared off into the distance across the sparkling water as though she were ignoring him, but her fingers twined through his hair, tilting his face closer to her.
He decided to humor her inquisitiveness and open up a bit more. "My mother was Caprican; makes me a Caprican."
"To who?"
"Taurons."
"They don't want you, huh?" She gazed down at him, the shyness gone for the moment.
"Yeah, no one wants me. All alone in the universe," he said slyly, trying to garner some pity even as he nibbled up the inside of her thighs, drawing her even closer. With a fingertip, he traced the symbol for life mate on the soft skin in the crease of her hip. Only he could read it.
"Is that why you were a sailor?" wafted down to him.
Damn, this woman thought too much; just like a Caprican. He decided not to say that aloud. He was zeroing in on his target and couldn't risk pissing her off--he was close enough to smell himself on her flushed skin. This had been his primary fantasy since he'd allowed his feelings for her to shift to personal. He would never confess that his impulse as the brig door had clanged shut was to yank it right open, push her over on the cot, pull down her pants and bury his face between her legs. That would have shown her for betraying him--of course, after he found out she'd nearly died of her cancer in that brig cell, even after he'd gotten over his gunshot, he hadn't been able to get wood for a month. Guilt was the biggest cause of limp dick; life had taught him that.
Her voice crackled above him as she eased her hips closer. "You don't want me to think?" The edge was turning on him.
"I want you to think about how good this feels--" He gently parted her curls, opening her to his seeking mouth. "And how you're going to reciprocate."
He glanced up quickly to see her grip her lower lip in her teeth and her eyes spark. He wondered at her ideas of reciprocation. Perhaps she wouldn't have been horrified for him to take her in that brig cell after all.
As he gently suckled at her clit, not being aggressive, just waiting, her eyes softened back to that shyness, and after licking her lips, she settled over his head, blocking out the bright sun, enveloping him in comforting darkness. She'd wanted to explore his entire body, but he believed in concentrating on one thing at a time. Now he could pour out his love against her swollen flesh and sing his off-tune song once again.
He was a Tauron after all, writing their emotions on skin.
~the end
Author: bugs
Rating: MA
Genre: Romance, Smut, PWP
Word Count: 2,100
Summary: Building the cabin.
~*~
Bill released a satisfied breath as he stretched out on the picnic blanket. The sunlight reflecting off the lake warmed his naked body. He was perfectly exhausted, his limbs slack. The long hike from New Caprica's tent city, then...
"I'll build my cabin here." Laura had looked up at him, giving him a proud smile. It had been the easiest thing in the universe to lean over and kiss her. He'd intended it as a friend's kiss to show his approval. But she'd gone up on her toes to deepen the exchange and well...
He grinned.
The light breeze stirred her hair as she kissed along his body, her slightly chilly nose tracing after her lips. He lifted on heavy arm to aimlessly pat her shoulder. He couldn't return the favor if he wanted to. Even as she lifted his spent cock and laid it aside on her tour, not a inch of him could stir. He did notice it was hardly a lover's caress, but rather a businesslike inspection.
He was in too good of a mood to be offended. Perhaps she was taking inventory of her new possession. He chuckled.
She didn't ask what he found so funny, just kept nuzzling over his skin, lightly kissing old scars and snuffling like a flighty hound checking over another dog.
Sweeping her hair aside, he watched her expression as she was intent on her task--the same focus as when she had worked her way through a stack of reports.
He'd had a lot of assumptions about when--if--they ever made love. They'd behave like two adults, keep it as an exchange of pleasure, but with a dignity befitting their ages and positions.
That's why he hadn't responded to what had appeared to be a pretty obvious come-on from her on Groundbreaking Day. After all, he wasn't an idiot--he gave a little snort as she nipped his ribs; he was ticklish.
Stoned and drunk, he hadn't dared to act on his yearnings. He knew how he got when he was inebriated. He would have told her that he loved her in a flood of emotion, going into excruciating detail. As a stop-gap measure, he'd sang instead, forcing his tongue into unfamiliar movements to keep it from flapping.
.
Mercifully, he held his tongue today, but not his hands. Thank the gods she'd been wound just as tightly. There'd been nothing adult or dignified about the way they'd torn their clothes off, fallen to the blanket, their pants trapped around their ankles by their hiking boots. Only when finished had they taken the time to undress and enjoy the sun and isolation.
Laura gave him a nudge. "Roll over," she commanded.
He lazily raised one eyebrow at her order. With an oomph, he flopped onto his stomach.
There'd been no time for catalog her body as they'd wrangled on the blanket. With her arms still in the sleeves of her shirt, he hadn't even been able to remove her bra. Bu the only body parts necessary to complete the act were naked.
He replayed that moment, just as he'd turn a small piece of his model ship over and over before gluing it on. Like the frakkin' idiot he was with women, he'd hovered above her, sliding his cock along her pussy but not entering.
"Do you want this?" he had asked, not sure what 'this' was; his cock, a relationship, his love. He'd meant the question to come off as sexy, masterful, a man who already knows the answer when he asks, but his uncertainty showed in his voice.
Her response had been wordless, just the indignant arching of her eyebrow--the dirty look she'd shot him many times in the past when he hadn't complied with her wishes. As he tipped his hips and eased forward, he realized she could never be president again if he were to be the military leader. If she gave him that look in a meeting...
He'd expected her to close her eyes, turn away, just another instance of the little avoidances they did with each other--this time, avoiding answering the question he wasn't even sure what he was asking. But she held his gaze, looking up into his soul as he withdrew and slid forward again, trying to go deeper this time.
Only he couldn't. Instead of feeling some arrogant pride--I'm too big for her--he panicked. Somehow, he'd gotten in his mind that she'd only give him one chance and her flesh's resistance was symbolic of their entire stumbling relationship; he didn't fit into her life.
And then she had opened her knees wider, tilted her pelvis and gripped his hip to keep him from retreating. She raised her chin, challenging him.
"Bill," she whispered.
Encouraged, he tried again, finding the right angle this time to go a bit deeper. He withdrew, but only far enough to thrust forward again.
"Oh...Gods..." She released the words as though he was pushing them out of her. He was stunned by her expression. He'd never seen her face like this--wonder and more shockingly, submission. After her confident pursuit here on New Caprica, this was the last thing he expected to see.
He had to live up to it. Gently he swept her hair from her damp forehead, running his big thumb along her brow line. He eased deeper, slowly, but then retreating as soon as she became too tight.
In the friendliest way possible, she said: "Are you waiting for your FTL to spool up?"
He grinned back. That was the Laura he had expected in bed. His panic gone, he'd braced himself over her and had taken command. They had jumped together within a few minutes.
He smiled again--that had been a damn good first time. But he had years worth of fantasies to work through. He cradled his head on his folded arms as her hands spread across his back, squeezed his thighs, pushed apart--
"Hey," he rumbled.
She giggled and her lips moved upward to trace his spine. "Okay," she relented and she massaged his shoulders, gripping his muscles tightly.
Strength flowed through her fingers and tears gathered on his eyelids. Just a few months ago, she had been a husk, drying in his tender touch.
"Hmmm..." Her hands stilled.
It wasn't a murmur of a lover's explorations, it was an inquisitive sound no beaten-up, sixty year old man wanted to hear. He lifted his head. "What'd you find?"
"It's what I haven't found." She sat back on her heels.
He rolled onto his side and coaxed her loose shirt and bra off. Might as well not be the only naked person here.
"I'll get cold," she said, draping the shirt across her shoulders.
He was immediately concerned. "Are you okay?"
"I'm always cold."
Banishing the vision of her bundled in her thick robe from his mind, he peered over his shoulder. "What did you expect to find?"
"A tattoo."
"What?" He sat up and rubbed his already tousled hair. "Why would I have a tattoo?"
"You're a Tauron, right?"
"I'm a Caprican; that's what it said on my identity card."
"But wasn't your household Tauron? I mean, your father was famous for his Tauron-style litigation--"
"What does that mean?" He knew, but he wanted to hear her say it.
"A bull in the courtroom..." She lay her hand on his thigh and squeezed its thick muscle. "And you're pretty bullish yourself." She cocked her head, reading his shift in mood.
He grunted, gripping his kneecaps. Maybe he was getting a bit cold too.
Her quick fingers kept playing across his bare skin. "Not even one for your son?"
"I'm a Caprican," he repeated.
"Or are you not a Tauron," she suggested.
He peered at her from under his hair. "What does that mean?" he asked again.
Propping her chin on his shoulder, she shrugged off her shirt. He was immediately distracted. Breasts...Pretty breasts....Bare breasts....His lover's breasts...
"Perhaps you've avoided anything that may literally mark you as a Tauron," she murmured. Her fingertips roamed across his chest, connecting an old knife wound with his bold red scar, writing words he couldn't read upside down and backwards.
His brow furrowed, even as he began to gently stroke her left breast and watched the nipple instantly pucker at the attention. "I don't know what you're talkin' about," he grumbled before leaning over to replace his fingers with his mouth.
Her hands burrowed into his hair, holding him fast--that urgency of a few minutes ago was back. "I mean--" she gasped. "Uh, I mean...Were people ever cruel to you as a child? I remember Tauron children being teased at school."
"You would have stood up for me?" he mumbled against her skin.
"I wouldn't like anyone hurting you."
"Nobody's going to kick your dog," he said, his scar tightening at the edge to her voice. Maybe she did love him after all.
He lay back on the blanket, pulling her with him to straddle his chest.
She traced his weathered cheeks. "Did anyone kick you?"
He grinned. "Don't worry about it," he said lightly.
Her forehead creased with her consternation.
"Don't worry," he repeated. "All in the past." Spanning her ass with his wide palms, he gently urged her to slide closer, but he could see her expression shift to embarrassment and uncertainty.
He wanted to chide her, saying, don't be like that; I've seen you die; what's there to hide from me now?
Instead, he said: "Let me show you why the ladies call a mustache a tickler."
Even as she giggled, she was still brooding. "Why did we name this planet New Caprica? Are we all Capricans now?"
"You think too much," he said simply. Nipping the inside of her knee, he pushed her forward another inch.
She sighed and stared off into the distance across the sparkling water as though she were ignoring him, but her fingers twined through his hair, tilting his face closer to her.
He decided to humor her inquisitiveness and open up a bit more. "My mother was Caprican; makes me a Caprican."
"To who?"
"Taurons."
"They don't want you, huh?" She gazed down at him, the shyness gone for the moment.
"Yeah, no one wants me. All alone in the universe," he said slyly, trying to garner some pity even as he nibbled up the inside of her thighs, drawing her even closer. With a fingertip, he traced the symbol for life mate on the soft skin in the crease of her hip. Only he could read it.
"Is that why you were a sailor?" wafted down to him.
Damn, this woman thought too much; just like a Caprican. He decided not to say that aloud. He was zeroing in on his target and couldn't risk pissing her off--he was close enough to smell himself on her flushed skin. This had been his primary fantasy since he'd allowed his feelings for her to shift to personal. He would never confess that his impulse as the brig door had clanged shut was to yank it right open, push her over on the cot, pull down her pants and bury his face between her legs. That would have shown her for betraying him--of course, after he found out she'd nearly died of her cancer in that brig cell, even after he'd gotten over his gunshot, he hadn't been able to get wood for a month. Guilt was the biggest cause of limp dick; life had taught him that.
Her voice crackled above him as she eased her hips closer. "You don't want me to think?" The edge was turning on him.
"I want you to think about how good this feels--" He gently parted her curls, opening her to his seeking mouth. "And how you're going to reciprocate."
He glanced up quickly to see her grip her lower lip in her teeth and her eyes spark. He wondered at her ideas of reciprocation. Perhaps she wouldn't have been horrified for him to take her in that brig cell after all.
As he gently suckled at her clit, not being aggressive, just waiting, her eyes softened back to that shyness, and after licking her lips, she settled over his head, blocking out the bright sun, enveloping him in comforting darkness. She'd wanted to explore his entire body, but he believed in concentrating on one thing at a time. Now he could pour out his love against her swollen flesh and sing his off-tune song once again.
He was a Tauron after all, writing their emotions on skin.
~the end