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Roslin/Starbuck
rated NC-17 for sex (with kink, s&m and toys, etc)
contains end of Season 2 spoilers
Early in the morning I am pulling up my pants and Laura is half-asleep on her cot. It is still dark, and I can't tell if my stomach is shivering from last night's ambrosia binge, or from the cold, or from something else. "I feel like shit," I say. Silently, Laura gets out of the bed, her gray blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, and offers me a trash can. I grab it, clunk it on the ground, get on my knees and puke. She sleepily stumbles back to her cot, probably hung-over too, though she is better at hiding it.
Minutes later I am wiping my mouth, and Laura is trying to sleep again, but this morning, instead of leaving her like I usually do, I ask her if the rumors are true, if she actually rigged the election. I am brave enough to ask only because I don't really care. She pauses, really waking up, yawning. Then she says yes, she rigged it, and laughs. I ask her why she is laughing, and she says, "It's just funny because it was so important." I sit on the edge of her cot and I ask her how she hid it. She tells me, "I was so silent -- I swallowed so hard. I spent a lot of time practicing feeling blank."
I ask her how she relieved her guilt, what made her feel good. She says justice, and doing what was right. I am not surprised by her answer: we lie to each other often.
*
Laura and I started frakking a couple of months ago. There was no war, no battles, at least not any real ones, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Anders and I were in love. He had even forgiven me for my shit with Lee, so much so that he didn't even bring it up anymore every time I tried to give him a blow job. I grew my hair long because I finally felt pretty. Sometimes I cried I loved him so much. I helped Chief with his Union meetings and protests. They didn't make any real progress, but I did make several drinking buddies at these meetings, and late at night we walked around, got hammered, and threw shit at Gaius' Colonial One. This life of mine had been going on for almost a year. The cylons were gone, probably for good. Yet we were all miserable and bored, in our own ways, for our own reasons. I missed my absent hope, the pushing forward. Now there was nowhere to push.
I wanted to get into trouble. So I started looking.
*
It was late in the afternoon and Anders was out playing Pyramid with friends. It was, of course, raining, this kind of vague mist that blew into the tent and made my face damp and my hair feel heavy. I made my way to Roslin's school, and from a distance, hidden a bit behind a food stand, I watched as she dismissed her class. I had been doing this for some time now -- a few weeks at least, maybe more. I was trying to decide what I wanted from her.
She was wearing a thick blue sweater with a high neck, a gray scarf, black pants, and heavy boots like mine. Her hair was longer than it had been when she was president, and also curlier.
A line of children filed outside where they met their waiting parents, who seemed antsy and tired. The last kid in line -- this skinny, awkward boy with black hair and crooked glasses -- spun around and looked at her, worried, and mumbled something. He fumbled through his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He had drawn something for her. She accepted the picture, touching his shoulder gently, reassuring him, and smiled. She waved good-bye to him. Then all the children were gone.
As she headed back into the tent, I followed her.
"Hi," I said, standing at the opening of the tent.
She turned around and saw me. "Kara Thrace," she said politely, unfazed; our existence now, our world after the nuclear holocaust, had become so small, that of course she was not surprised to see me. "What brings you here?"
"Curiosity, I guess," I said. "You were president of the colonies, and now you're teaching children. How in the world are you adjusting?"
"It's difficult," she said. "But it's a relief. No more responsibility. As I like to say -- the president's problems are not my problems." She touched the small of my back to lead me outside of the tent. "Let's go for a walk," she suggested. As the cold wet air hit against us, she put her hand out, as if shielding both our faces from the wind, then let it back down. "And how are you adjusting?"
"Yeah, I'm relieved too," I said. "No more toasters in sight. I can't really believe it sometimes. I mean, do you think they'll return?"
"I hope not."
Then we were quiet as we walked. I noticed that Roslin walked one step behind me, waiting for me, wondering where I would take us. And I noticed, too, that I was leading us away from the crowded streets, away from the camp, and off to a quiet, darker space of land. After about half an hour, those tents began to look like only small triangles to us. Here there was simply dead grass, drowned by mud, and an overflowing creek that lead into a larger river.
"How's your friend -- Anders?" she asked.
"Sam? We're married. I'm crazy about him," I said, smiling tightly, pissed at myself for telling the truth. "If you don't mind me being so blunt -- do you miss it -- do you miss being president? Do you miss Galatica? Do you miss the old man? Do you miss being so stressed you don't think about anything else but solving these insurmountable, insane problems? I'm getting so frakking antsy -- I miss fighting."
We had hit the edge of the creek. We couldn't walk any further. "Do you miss your power?" I asked.
"Yes," Roslin said, then paused. "Kara, what is it you really want?"
I wanted to say that I missed her power, too. I missed how she was so absolute. I missed the time she asked me if I believed in the gods and I got mad at her but answered anyway, because she was the president and also because there was something in her, the way she looked at me -- like she needed my answer, like she wanted to believe in me. When she asked me to bring her the arrow, I knew she was desperate for me to do this for her only because she believed I could do it better than anyone else could. Like only I could solve her problem. Like, for a moment, I was her answer. And when I found out the old man had lied to me about Earth, I didn't know who to trust; but then I decided to trust her, or, at least, her plan. She was always in the back of my mind, and it was never sexual, never urgent -- but however vague, however long ago, we were once each other's answers.
But I didn't say that at all; instead, I asked Roslin how she felt about frakking girls. She coughed a little bit, then cleared her throat. I laughed forcefully and said, "Come on, it's just you and me. I can keep secrets." I couldn't tell if I sounded sincere or not.
She took a step backward from the edge of the creek, a step away from me, and she studied me, looking up then down, down then up. "I used to, you know, and I did like it -- but it was quite a long time ago."
"Me too," I said. "Well, I gotta go. But I'll be here tomorrow, at this same time. Hopefully I'll see you." I headed back to camp. I walked quickly, and with each step my boots made a sucking noise as they lifted from the mud. I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched my shoulders so I would look tough to her as she watched me walked away. My heart was pounding, but I wasn't exactly worried. I didn't fear her rejection. If I was afraid at all, it was only in the good way, the familiar way.
*
Another morning, Laura awakes with a start, sitting upright, breathing heavily, touching her chest.
"Hey," I say, putting my arms around her. She shoves me away and turns on her side, facing the damp tent curtain, so I can't see her face. Her shoulders are shaking.
"Okay," I mutter. I get out of bed and leave her tent. I walk around the camp, which is still mostly empty and quiet; it is so early. It is darker than usual. I see two girls -- one a teenager, the other a few years younger -- digging through the trash. "Are you hungry?" I ask stupidly. The girls flinch at my voice -- maybe they assume I am one of Gaius' watch dogs; why else would I be roaming the streets at such a strange hour? -- and run away. I chase them, trip on my feet, collapse in the street. They disappear. I cuss. I examine my elbow, which is now bleeding.
*
For our second meeting, I came prepared. I packed some stuff Anders and I had bought on the black market several months ago when we were drunk and making jokes about bondage and butt frakking. I left the camp, gradually, casually, disappearing behind a vacant tent, and made my way to the creek. Laura was waiting, her arms crossed, biting her lip. She was either bored or nervous. I hoped for the first, and was right, because when she saw me, she snapped, "You're late."
"Yeah, sorry," I said. I set the bag on the ground and pulled out the black rubber dick I'd never used on Anders. "I was packing."
"That's a little presumptuous of you," she said, smiling. She took it from me and held it, awkwardly at first. She put her hand around it, and I noticed her fingers were long and thin. Even touching something so obscene, she was delicate and careful. It made me breathe more slowly. I wanted her to be touching me.
I said, "So you wanna get out of here? There's this raptor quite a ways from here where we'd never be seen. No one knows about it but me. It's dusty but other than that it's fairly clean, and we'd be dry --"
"That's presumptuous, too," Laura said.
"What?"
"What makes you think I want to go somewhere else?"
I scowled. "It's frakking cold and wet and muddy here. And someone might notice us."
"Right," she said. "And your point is?" She pulled me to her, then yanked down the neck of my sweater. She kissed my neck and my ears. "You'll just have to make sure you don't moan very loudly," she whispered. She kissed my mouth, so gently that it made me hurt, then harder, putting her fingers in my hair. "And as far as the mud -- well, no. I'm not going to get muddy."
She pressed hard on my shoulders, making me collapse onto my knees. I had to catch myself with my hand so I didn't fall face first into the mud.
She stuck her dick in my mouth, and even though it was big and even though she kept pushing it farther and farther in and even though I started to choke, I kept taking it.
"You can do this for me," she said, lifting my chin so I looked up at her.
*
We saw each other again and again, sometimes by the creek, sometimes in the raptor, sometimes in our tents.
Some of the things she asked me to do were easy. She asked me to stand in front of her naked. She asked me to bite her lip. She asked me to crawl on all fours, in the dark, to find her feet and suck on them.
Some of the thing were harder. She asked me to unbutton her blouse with only my mouth. She asked me to lay entirely still even when she pulled on my nipples. She asked me to let her fit her whole hand inside of me. She asked me to look at her while I came.
And some things were almost impossible. She asked me not to come until she said I could, even when I was so close I was shaking and she still wouldn't let me. She asked me not to make a sound when I came. She asked me not to come at all, even when she went down on me for half an hour. She asked me to let her hit me as hard as she wanted, even when I cried for her to stop.
I did them. I did every single one.
*
"You know, even after all this, you're still kind of a mystery to me," I say to Laura on the last morning we are together. I am gathering up all my things, putting them back in my bag, one because Anders finally asked me to fuck him in the ass the other night and the dick was at Laura's and I had to lie and say I was too tired. Two because Anders is getting suspicious and I am always feeling guilty and I love him and I don't want to hurt him. Three because I've done what I wanted, I have proved myself to Laura, and really there is nothing more for us.
"How's that?" she asks, folding up some of my clothes.
"I don't know," I say.
"I thought you knew how proud I was of you when you did those things for me."
"I do know," I say.
"Kara," she says. "I don't think you understand. I really wanted this. I really wanted you. I really wanted that look on your face when you trusted me, when you stared at me like you would do anything for me. We don't love each other -- we don't know each other even -- but at least know that I am telling you the truth when I say you gave me something I had been missing, that I thought I'd never have again."
"Okay," I say. We hug good-bye, like friends, not lovers.
We see each other in passing now, at the food market. I am holding hands with Anders, or picking out the least shitty bread I can find, or looking for some black market traders for ambrosia. She is ushering out her students, or filling up her water bottles, or taking a walk to fight boredom. I've made my way to the creek on several occasions, but she is not there. I imagine she, too, stops by every once in a while, looking for me, and I am not there.
Sometimes I'll pass her tent, when class is in session, and I strain, and stand very still, and then I can hear her voice -- even, gentle, instructing, never faltering.
Roslin/Starbuck
rated NC-17 for sex (with kink, s&m and toys, etc)
contains end of Season 2 spoilers
Early in the morning I am pulling up my pants and Laura is half-asleep on her cot. It is still dark, and I can't tell if my stomach is shivering from last night's ambrosia binge, or from the cold, or from something else. "I feel like shit," I say. Silently, Laura gets out of the bed, her gray blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, and offers me a trash can. I grab it, clunk it on the ground, get on my knees and puke. She sleepily stumbles back to her cot, probably hung-over too, though she is better at hiding it.
Minutes later I am wiping my mouth, and Laura is trying to sleep again, but this morning, instead of leaving her like I usually do, I ask her if the rumors are true, if she actually rigged the election. I am brave enough to ask only because I don't really care. She pauses, really waking up, yawning. Then she says yes, she rigged it, and laughs. I ask her why she is laughing, and she says, "It's just funny because it was so important." I sit on the edge of her cot and I ask her how she hid it. She tells me, "I was so silent -- I swallowed so hard. I spent a lot of time practicing feeling blank."
I ask her how she relieved her guilt, what made her feel good. She says justice, and doing what was right. I am not surprised by her answer: we lie to each other often.
*
Laura and I started frakking a couple of months ago. There was no war, no battles, at least not any real ones, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Anders and I were in love. He had even forgiven me for my shit with Lee, so much so that he didn't even bring it up anymore every time I tried to give him a blow job. I grew my hair long because I finally felt pretty. Sometimes I cried I loved him so much. I helped Chief with his Union meetings and protests. They didn't make any real progress, but I did make several drinking buddies at these meetings, and late at night we walked around, got hammered, and threw shit at Gaius' Colonial One. This life of mine had been going on for almost a year. The cylons were gone, probably for good. Yet we were all miserable and bored, in our own ways, for our own reasons. I missed my absent hope, the pushing forward. Now there was nowhere to push.
I wanted to get into trouble. So I started looking.
*
It was late in the afternoon and Anders was out playing Pyramid with friends. It was, of course, raining, this kind of vague mist that blew into the tent and made my face damp and my hair feel heavy. I made my way to Roslin's school, and from a distance, hidden a bit behind a food stand, I watched as she dismissed her class. I had been doing this for some time now -- a few weeks at least, maybe more. I was trying to decide what I wanted from her.
She was wearing a thick blue sweater with a high neck, a gray scarf, black pants, and heavy boots like mine. Her hair was longer than it had been when she was president, and also curlier.
A line of children filed outside where they met their waiting parents, who seemed antsy and tired. The last kid in line -- this skinny, awkward boy with black hair and crooked glasses -- spun around and looked at her, worried, and mumbled something. He fumbled through his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He had drawn something for her. She accepted the picture, touching his shoulder gently, reassuring him, and smiled. She waved good-bye to him. Then all the children were gone.
As she headed back into the tent, I followed her.
"Hi," I said, standing at the opening of the tent.
She turned around and saw me. "Kara Thrace," she said politely, unfazed; our existence now, our world after the nuclear holocaust, had become so small, that of course she was not surprised to see me. "What brings you here?"
"Curiosity, I guess," I said. "You were president of the colonies, and now you're teaching children. How in the world are you adjusting?"
"It's difficult," she said. "But it's a relief. No more responsibility. As I like to say -- the president's problems are not my problems." She touched the small of my back to lead me outside of the tent. "Let's go for a walk," she suggested. As the cold wet air hit against us, she put her hand out, as if shielding both our faces from the wind, then let it back down. "And how are you adjusting?"
"Yeah, I'm relieved too," I said. "No more toasters in sight. I can't really believe it sometimes. I mean, do you think they'll return?"
"I hope not."
Then we were quiet as we walked. I noticed that Roslin walked one step behind me, waiting for me, wondering where I would take us. And I noticed, too, that I was leading us away from the crowded streets, away from the camp, and off to a quiet, darker space of land. After about half an hour, those tents began to look like only small triangles to us. Here there was simply dead grass, drowned by mud, and an overflowing creek that lead into a larger river.
"How's your friend -- Anders?" she asked.
"Sam? We're married. I'm crazy about him," I said, smiling tightly, pissed at myself for telling the truth. "If you don't mind me being so blunt -- do you miss it -- do you miss being president? Do you miss Galatica? Do you miss the old man? Do you miss being so stressed you don't think about anything else but solving these insurmountable, insane problems? I'm getting so frakking antsy -- I miss fighting."
We had hit the edge of the creek. We couldn't walk any further. "Do you miss your power?" I asked.
"Yes," Roslin said, then paused. "Kara, what is it you really want?"
I wanted to say that I missed her power, too. I missed how she was so absolute. I missed the time she asked me if I believed in the gods and I got mad at her but answered anyway, because she was the president and also because there was something in her, the way she looked at me -- like she needed my answer, like she wanted to believe in me. When she asked me to bring her the arrow, I knew she was desperate for me to do this for her only because she believed I could do it better than anyone else could. Like only I could solve her problem. Like, for a moment, I was her answer. And when I found out the old man had lied to me about Earth, I didn't know who to trust; but then I decided to trust her, or, at least, her plan. She was always in the back of my mind, and it was never sexual, never urgent -- but however vague, however long ago, we were once each other's answers.
But I didn't say that at all; instead, I asked Roslin how she felt about frakking girls. She coughed a little bit, then cleared her throat. I laughed forcefully and said, "Come on, it's just you and me. I can keep secrets." I couldn't tell if I sounded sincere or not.
She took a step backward from the edge of the creek, a step away from me, and she studied me, looking up then down, down then up. "I used to, you know, and I did like it -- but it was quite a long time ago."
"Me too," I said. "Well, I gotta go. But I'll be here tomorrow, at this same time. Hopefully I'll see you." I headed back to camp. I walked quickly, and with each step my boots made a sucking noise as they lifted from the mud. I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched my shoulders so I would look tough to her as she watched me walked away. My heart was pounding, but I wasn't exactly worried. I didn't fear her rejection. If I was afraid at all, it was only in the good way, the familiar way.
*
Another morning, Laura awakes with a start, sitting upright, breathing heavily, touching her chest.
"Hey," I say, putting my arms around her. She shoves me away and turns on her side, facing the damp tent curtain, so I can't see her face. Her shoulders are shaking.
"Okay," I mutter. I get out of bed and leave her tent. I walk around the camp, which is still mostly empty and quiet; it is so early. It is darker than usual. I see two girls -- one a teenager, the other a few years younger -- digging through the trash. "Are you hungry?" I ask stupidly. The girls flinch at my voice -- maybe they assume I am one of Gaius' watch dogs; why else would I be roaming the streets at such a strange hour? -- and run away. I chase them, trip on my feet, collapse in the street. They disappear. I cuss. I examine my elbow, which is now bleeding.
*
For our second meeting, I came prepared. I packed some stuff Anders and I had bought on the black market several months ago when we were drunk and making jokes about bondage and butt frakking. I left the camp, gradually, casually, disappearing behind a vacant tent, and made my way to the creek. Laura was waiting, her arms crossed, biting her lip. She was either bored or nervous. I hoped for the first, and was right, because when she saw me, she snapped, "You're late."
"Yeah, sorry," I said. I set the bag on the ground and pulled out the black rubber dick I'd never used on Anders. "I was packing."
"That's a little presumptuous of you," she said, smiling. She took it from me and held it, awkwardly at first. She put her hand around it, and I noticed her fingers were long and thin. Even touching something so obscene, she was delicate and careful. It made me breathe more slowly. I wanted her to be touching me.
I said, "So you wanna get out of here? There's this raptor quite a ways from here where we'd never be seen. No one knows about it but me. It's dusty but other than that it's fairly clean, and we'd be dry --"
"That's presumptuous, too," Laura said.
"What?"
"What makes you think I want to go somewhere else?"
I scowled. "It's frakking cold and wet and muddy here. And someone might notice us."
"Right," she said. "And your point is?" She pulled me to her, then yanked down the neck of my sweater. She kissed my neck and my ears. "You'll just have to make sure you don't moan very loudly," she whispered. She kissed my mouth, so gently that it made me hurt, then harder, putting her fingers in my hair. "And as far as the mud -- well, no. I'm not going to get muddy."
She pressed hard on my shoulders, making me collapse onto my knees. I had to catch myself with my hand so I didn't fall face first into the mud.
She stuck her dick in my mouth, and even though it was big and even though she kept pushing it farther and farther in and even though I started to choke, I kept taking it.
"You can do this for me," she said, lifting my chin so I looked up at her.
*
We saw each other again and again, sometimes by the creek, sometimes in the raptor, sometimes in our tents.
Some of the things she asked me to do were easy. She asked me to stand in front of her naked. She asked me to bite her lip. She asked me to crawl on all fours, in the dark, to find her feet and suck on them.
Some of the thing were harder. She asked me to unbutton her blouse with only my mouth. She asked me to lay entirely still even when she pulled on my nipples. She asked me to let her fit her whole hand inside of me. She asked me to look at her while I came.
And some things were almost impossible. She asked me not to come until she said I could, even when I was so close I was shaking and she still wouldn't let me. She asked me not to make a sound when I came. She asked me not to come at all, even when she went down on me for half an hour. She asked me to let her hit me as hard as she wanted, even when I cried for her to stop.
I did them. I did every single one.
*
"You know, even after all this, you're still kind of a mystery to me," I say to Laura on the last morning we are together. I am gathering up all my things, putting them back in my bag, one because Anders finally asked me to fuck him in the ass the other night and the dick was at Laura's and I had to lie and say I was too tired. Two because Anders is getting suspicious and I am always feeling guilty and I love him and I don't want to hurt him. Three because I've done what I wanted, I have proved myself to Laura, and really there is nothing more for us.
"How's that?" she asks, folding up some of my clothes.
"I don't know," I say.
"I thought you knew how proud I was of you when you did those things for me."
"I do know," I say.
"Kara," she says. "I don't think you understand. I really wanted this. I really wanted you. I really wanted that look on your face when you trusted me, when you stared at me like you would do anything for me. We don't love each other -- we don't know each other even -- but at least know that I am telling you the truth when I say you gave me something I had been missing, that I thought I'd never have again."
"Okay," I say. We hug good-bye, like friends, not lovers.
We see each other in passing now, at the food market. I am holding hands with Anders, or picking out the least shitty bread I can find, or looking for some black market traders for ambrosia. She is ushering out her students, or filling up her water bottles, or taking a walk to fight boredom. I've made my way to the creek on several occasions, but she is not there. I imagine she, too, stops by every once in a while, looking for me, and I am not there.
Sometimes I'll pass her tent, when class is in session, and I strain, and stand very still, and then I can hear her voice -- even, gentle, instructing, never faltering.