Fic: With A Smile
Title: With A Smile
Characters: Laura/Tory
Rating: M
Spoilers: Set after events shown during flashbacks in Unfinished Business
Disclaimer: Although I make no money and cannot give them any, they seem to like my sandbox.
A/N: I lay all blame with selenay_x. She may deny it, but the idea was hers and then she gave it to me and this is what formed. And since scullymouse was asking for a Tory/Laura fic (and I hope this was what she had in mind) this can be for her as well.
Laura watched Bill leave with Lee and some of the others. She stayed outside, blocking the glaring New Caprican sun with her hand, and watched the raptor disappear into the blue sky. At first she smiled, thinking how nice it had been to spend the night beside Bill. But as the sun beamed down on her and the wind whipped at her hair, Laura started to rethink the previous night. They’d kissed some, did some quite heavy petting, but the second she’d started to undo his stiff Admiral’s jacket, Bill’s rough hand had closed over hers. He then pulled her hand to his lips, whispering, “Let’s just enjoy being close.”
She’d smiled and snuggled closer, somewhat disappointed, but thinking they were in a practically public area, even though no one had ventured close to them since the dance broke up. She debated getting up and leading him to her tent, but Bill’s embrace was nice, his heartbeat soothing, and it was wonderful to just be held. And likely the closeness of him plus the mixture of drink and New Caprican cigs helped in lulling her into a dreamless sleep. Whatever the reason, she found herself squinting against the morning sun soon enough and without anything more than the satisfaction of being held in a man’s arms.
As the raptor vanished from sight, Laura began to frown. What the frak was wrong with her? She could have Richard on his knees at the snap of her fingers. Even Tom Zarek would be putty in her hands if she winked at him at the right time, and Lee, dear gods, how he’d followed her around like a little puppy. But Bill Adama, he’d stared at her, all but groped her, and then when the moment arrived, nothing. Perhaps she was slipping, or perhaps, she thought, eyeing a full bottle of Tyrol’s finest on a nearby table, perhaps Bill had bigger hang-ups. Letting out a dejected sigh and an ‘I’ll show him’ huff, Laura snatched up the bottle and uncorked it. She took a long swallow, gasping at the feel of the burn. “That’s good,” she hoarsely whispered to herself before starting off for her tent.
Tyrol’s brew was more potent than she realized, and by the time Laura found her tent, she was a bit unstable on her feet. And, to make matters worse, her tent flap was tied too tight. She frowned when the bottle fell to the ground, but then shrugged. It was empty after all. She snickered and began tearing at the tie, muttering curses when it wouldn’t open. She had her arm drawn back about to hit the thing when someone grabbed her hand and swung her round.
“Dr Roslin!”
Laura blinked several times then shielded her eyes before making out the confused face of her former aide. “Tory? What the frak are you doing here?” Her words were not as clear as usual, but Laura said them anyway.
“Ma’am are you drunk?”
“I should hope so, I tried awfully hard to be,” Laura nodded. “Can you untie that?”
“You need coffee,” Tory said, moving to easily untie the tent flap and usher Laura inside.
“No, I need a good frak,” Laura seriously, but only as serious as a drunk woman could be, said, “but Adama wasn’t able to provide that apparently.”
“Ma’am!” Tory replied in shock.
“What?” Laura remarked, “Not dead, Tory, yet anyway.”
“But…”
“Oh get over it, Foster, and help me to my cot. The floor seems to be a bit uneven.”
Tory stood staring in bewilderment at her former President’s unusual behavior, but when Roslin made a move toward her rack, which nearly toppled them both, Tory snapped out of her trance.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she started then ended in a huff, Roslin flat on her back on the cot and Tory barely hovering above her on shaky elbows that threaten to buckle. Nearly flat atop the redhead, Tory felt Laura breathing.
“This is nice,” she quipped, running her hands around Tory’s waist.
In the few seconds before her elbows did buckle and Tory admitted she would find herself flat atop her former boss, the young woman assessed her situation. Truthfully, the inebriated redhead beneath her was not an unwelcome presence. Much like Roslin, she now concluded considering the way the woman’s fingers were slipping under her shirt to tickle her sides, Tory wasn’t concerned with which gender she got her pleasure from. Both had their plus and minus columns when it came to playing between the sheets. But on more than one occasion, Tory did find herself daydreaming about what the cool, calm and not always collected President would be like in the seclusion of a bedroom.
Frisky, was her first thought, noticing her shirt half undone as Laura giggled to herself. “What are you laughing at?” The brunette asked, giving her a slightly irritated look.
“Aww, Tory, don’t pout, I’m not laughing at you,” Laura continued smiling as she finished unbuttoning her former aide’s blouse. “I’m just thinking of Bill and his inadequacies.” The last word came out as a snicker, but Tory wasn’t able to concentrate on her words for long, because Laura’s hands had found her breasts and were gently massaging each one.
“Oh, my,” Tory moaned, her elbows bending, bringing her ever closer to Laura.
“Like that?” the redhead whispered, her lips dancing along Tory’s throat.
“Are you seducing me, ma’am,” the younger woman fought to say, her concentration waning with each touch of Laura’s lips against her skin, each pinch of her fingers over her sensitive breasts.
“If you have to ask,” Laura sighed, her hands falling lifelessly beside Tory’s hands, her head dropping back to her hard mattress. “Perhaps I am slipping.”
She exhaled a long breath and twisted her upper body in an attempt to turn on her side, away from Tory’s intense gaze. The look of defeat she saw in the older woman’s face struck a cord deep inside the younger woman. Hadn’t it been just a few hours earlier when she herself likely held that same expression as she watched Anders laughing and skipping off with the blonde mightier than thou ace viper pilot. Kara frakkin Starbuck Thrace snapped her fingers and Sam followed her like an obedient puppy. The memory brought back some anger, but more it brought back her feelings of rejection, and a woman never liked to feel rejected.
“Thanks for helping me inside, Tory,” Laura murmured behind closed eyelids, missing the changing expressions on the brunette’s face. She jumped at the feel of soft fingers brushing her thick hair off her face. Then slowly Laura opened her eyes to see dark brown ones staring down into hers, a hint of lust and compassion in them. “Tory…”
But whatever words she might have said were cut off as Tory’s full lips slanted over hers. The feel of soft lips against hers after Bill’s chapped ones the night before was a welcomed sensation. Laura heard a throaty sigh, then smiled realizing it was her own. Tory shifted, rolling to her side while Laura willingly followed, not wishing to break off contact of such a heady feeling.
Soon the touch of lips to lips was not enough, the need to explore and taste overwhelming. Fingers tangled in thick hair, dark strands of red mingling with those of midnight black. Clothing was discarded as soon as it was discovered to be preventing access to the hands that sought flesh. Once revealed the skin was covered with lips, soft sensual lips that teased knowingly, with an education in the art that most men could only ever dream to obtain. Sighs mingled with attempted words as hands encouraged one downward, mouth finding skin so sensitive that the slightest wisp of air caused a near climax. And then sighs turned to keens and cries and pleas when a rush so overwhelming hit that the thin sheet covering the mattress was nearly torn as white-rimmed knuckles pulled at it.
The giver breathing as heavily as the receiver, sweat-streaked bodies pressed tightly together, neither knowing whose arm was whose or which leg was her own. And then the giggling and the playful kisses, first lazy until energy returned and the receiver became the giver and the game played out all over again until both were spent and in need of sleep.
Outside the bustle of those without hangovers began. The market crowd chattered about, voices loud and laughing wafted around the tent. Some penetrated the ears of the sleeping women, still tangled together, auburn strands mixed with black. Morning to noon and noon to dust, breathing once deep and even turned shallow, then limbs stretched and realization dawned as sleep was removed in brushes at heavy eyes. Laura grabbed her head, a dull ache settling in along with the late remembered knowledge that not much alcohol was needed to make her feel achy afterwards. Her mouth dry, she untangled herself from the still sleeping Tory, and pulled on a nearby robe before slowly walking to her small kitchen. The water felt like rain in a desert must feel and she swallowed down another glass. Behind her, she heard Tory stir, and she tried to decide what to say to the woman who was once her aide and now was something more but not.
To stall, she rinsed out her glass then turned slowly, with her head aching so she had to go slowly. Raising her eyes, Laura saw Tory already half dressed and attempting to arrange her unruly hair in a presentable shape.
“It’s night already?” she asked, barely looking at Laura.
“Um, yes, I think.”
“I’ve got to go…I was supposed to meet…” Tory’s words were lost as she bustled about, picking up the bra she finally located under the bed and dancing awkwardly as she slipped back into her shoes. At the tent flap she paused, took time to turn round and catch Laura’s eyes. “That was nice,” she grinned then disappeared, leaving Laura a little achy and with a smile.
~the end~
Characters: Laura/Tory
Rating: M
Spoilers: Set after events shown during flashbacks in Unfinished Business
Disclaimer: Although I make no money and cannot give them any, they seem to like my sandbox.
A/N: I lay all blame with selenay_x. She may deny it, but the idea was hers and then she gave it to me and this is what formed. And since scullymouse was asking for a Tory/Laura fic (and I hope this was what she had in mind) this can be for her as well.
Laura watched Bill leave with Lee and some of the others. She stayed outside, blocking the glaring New Caprican sun with her hand, and watched the raptor disappear into the blue sky. At first she smiled, thinking how nice it had been to spend the night beside Bill. But as the sun beamed down on her and the wind whipped at her hair, Laura started to rethink the previous night. They’d kissed some, did some quite heavy petting, but the second she’d started to undo his stiff Admiral’s jacket, Bill’s rough hand had closed over hers. He then pulled her hand to his lips, whispering, “Let’s just enjoy being close.”
She’d smiled and snuggled closer, somewhat disappointed, but thinking they were in a practically public area, even though no one had ventured close to them since the dance broke up. She debated getting up and leading him to her tent, but Bill’s embrace was nice, his heartbeat soothing, and it was wonderful to just be held. And likely the closeness of him plus the mixture of drink and New Caprican cigs helped in lulling her into a dreamless sleep. Whatever the reason, she found herself squinting against the morning sun soon enough and without anything more than the satisfaction of being held in a man’s arms.
As the raptor vanished from sight, Laura began to frown. What the frak was wrong with her? She could have Richard on his knees at the snap of her fingers. Even Tom Zarek would be putty in her hands if she winked at him at the right time, and Lee, dear gods, how he’d followed her around like a little puppy. But Bill Adama, he’d stared at her, all but groped her, and then when the moment arrived, nothing. Perhaps she was slipping, or perhaps, she thought, eyeing a full bottle of Tyrol’s finest on a nearby table, perhaps Bill had bigger hang-ups. Letting out a dejected sigh and an ‘I’ll show him’ huff, Laura snatched up the bottle and uncorked it. She took a long swallow, gasping at the feel of the burn. “That’s good,” she hoarsely whispered to herself before starting off for her tent.
Tyrol’s brew was more potent than she realized, and by the time Laura found her tent, she was a bit unstable on her feet. And, to make matters worse, her tent flap was tied too tight. She frowned when the bottle fell to the ground, but then shrugged. It was empty after all. She snickered and began tearing at the tie, muttering curses when it wouldn’t open. She had her arm drawn back about to hit the thing when someone grabbed her hand and swung her round.
“Dr Roslin!”
Laura blinked several times then shielded her eyes before making out the confused face of her former aide. “Tory? What the frak are you doing here?” Her words were not as clear as usual, but Laura said them anyway.
“Ma’am are you drunk?”
“I should hope so, I tried awfully hard to be,” Laura nodded. “Can you untie that?”
“You need coffee,” Tory said, moving to easily untie the tent flap and usher Laura inside.
“No, I need a good frak,” Laura seriously, but only as serious as a drunk woman could be, said, “but Adama wasn’t able to provide that apparently.”
“Ma’am!” Tory replied in shock.
“What?” Laura remarked, “Not dead, Tory, yet anyway.”
“But…”
“Oh get over it, Foster, and help me to my cot. The floor seems to be a bit uneven.”
Tory stood staring in bewilderment at her former President’s unusual behavior, but when Roslin made a move toward her rack, which nearly toppled them both, Tory snapped out of her trance.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she started then ended in a huff, Roslin flat on her back on the cot and Tory barely hovering above her on shaky elbows that threaten to buckle. Nearly flat atop the redhead, Tory felt Laura breathing.
“This is nice,” she quipped, running her hands around Tory’s waist.
In the few seconds before her elbows did buckle and Tory admitted she would find herself flat atop her former boss, the young woman assessed her situation. Truthfully, the inebriated redhead beneath her was not an unwelcome presence. Much like Roslin, she now concluded considering the way the woman’s fingers were slipping under her shirt to tickle her sides, Tory wasn’t concerned with which gender she got her pleasure from. Both had their plus and minus columns when it came to playing between the sheets. But on more than one occasion, Tory did find herself daydreaming about what the cool, calm and not always collected President would be like in the seclusion of a bedroom.
Frisky, was her first thought, noticing her shirt half undone as Laura giggled to herself. “What are you laughing at?” The brunette asked, giving her a slightly irritated look.
“Aww, Tory, don’t pout, I’m not laughing at you,” Laura continued smiling as she finished unbuttoning her former aide’s blouse. “I’m just thinking of Bill and his inadequacies.” The last word came out as a snicker, but Tory wasn’t able to concentrate on her words for long, because Laura’s hands had found her breasts and were gently massaging each one.
“Oh, my,” Tory moaned, her elbows bending, bringing her ever closer to Laura.
“Like that?” the redhead whispered, her lips dancing along Tory’s throat.
“Are you seducing me, ma’am,” the younger woman fought to say, her concentration waning with each touch of Laura’s lips against her skin, each pinch of her fingers over her sensitive breasts.
“If you have to ask,” Laura sighed, her hands falling lifelessly beside Tory’s hands, her head dropping back to her hard mattress. “Perhaps I am slipping.”
She exhaled a long breath and twisted her upper body in an attempt to turn on her side, away from Tory’s intense gaze. The look of defeat she saw in the older woman’s face struck a cord deep inside the younger woman. Hadn’t it been just a few hours earlier when she herself likely held that same expression as she watched Anders laughing and skipping off with the blonde mightier than thou ace viper pilot. Kara frakkin Starbuck Thrace snapped her fingers and Sam followed her like an obedient puppy. The memory brought back some anger, but more it brought back her feelings of rejection, and a woman never liked to feel rejected.
“Thanks for helping me inside, Tory,” Laura murmured behind closed eyelids, missing the changing expressions on the brunette’s face. She jumped at the feel of soft fingers brushing her thick hair off her face. Then slowly Laura opened her eyes to see dark brown ones staring down into hers, a hint of lust and compassion in them. “Tory…”
But whatever words she might have said were cut off as Tory’s full lips slanted over hers. The feel of soft lips against hers after Bill’s chapped ones the night before was a welcomed sensation. Laura heard a throaty sigh, then smiled realizing it was her own. Tory shifted, rolling to her side while Laura willingly followed, not wishing to break off contact of such a heady feeling.
Soon the touch of lips to lips was not enough, the need to explore and taste overwhelming. Fingers tangled in thick hair, dark strands of red mingling with those of midnight black. Clothing was discarded as soon as it was discovered to be preventing access to the hands that sought flesh. Once revealed the skin was covered with lips, soft sensual lips that teased knowingly, with an education in the art that most men could only ever dream to obtain. Sighs mingled with attempted words as hands encouraged one downward, mouth finding skin so sensitive that the slightest wisp of air caused a near climax. And then sighs turned to keens and cries and pleas when a rush so overwhelming hit that the thin sheet covering the mattress was nearly torn as white-rimmed knuckles pulled at it.
The giver breathing as heavily as the receiver, sweat-streaked bodies pressed tightly together, neither knowing whose arm was whose or which leg was her own. And then the giggling and the playful kisses, first lazy until energy returned and the receiver became the giver and the game played out all over again until both were spent and in need of sleep.
Outside the bustle of those without hangovers began. The market crowd chattered about, voices loud and laughing wafted around the tent. Some penetrated the ears of the sleeping women, still tangled together, auburn strands mixed with black. Morning to noon and noon to dust, breathing once deep and even turned shallow, then limbs stretched and realization dawned as sleep was removed in brushes at heavy eyes. Laura grabbed her head, a dull ache settling in along with the late remembered knowledge that not much alcohol was needed to make her feel achy afterwards. Her mouth dry, she untangled herself from the still sleeping Tory, and pulled on a nearby robe before slowly walking to her small kitchen. The water felt like rain in a desert must feel and she swallowed down another glass. Behind her, she heard Tory stir, and she tried to decide what to say to the woman who was once her aide and now was something more but not.
To stall, she rinsed out her glass then turned slowly, with her head aching so she had to go slowly. Raising her eyes, Laura saw Tory already half dressed and attempting to arrange her unruly hair in a presentable shape.
“It’s night already?” she asked, barely looking at Laura.
“Um, yes, I think.”
“I’ve got to go…I was supposed to meet…” Tory’s words were lost as she bustled about, picking up the bra she finally located under the bed and dancing awkwardly as she slipped back into her shoes. At the tent flap she paused, took time to turn round and catch Laura’s eyes. “That was nice,” she grinned then disappeared, leaving Laura a little achy and with a smile.
~the end~