Dreaming Roslin, for theastolat
Title: Dreaming Roslin
author: runawaynun
Summary: “Yeah, I have a Roslin fantasy. Hell, who doesn’t?”
Characters: Racetrack, Roslin, Seelix
Pairings: Roslin/various, Racetrack/Seelix
Rating: MA
Warnings: graphic sex
Title, Author and URL of original story: Pulling Roslin by theastolat
Thanks to murphy987 and cannibalcake for the beta
Mine? Yeah, I have a Roslin fantasy. Hell, who doesn’t? Maybe Athena. But who knows?
Mine’s not even all that creative. I get a late night request from the Admiral to shuttle the President back to Colonial One. I know - what a cliché! He’d walk her down to the hangar deck, hand on her back. I’d busy myself with my preflight checks while they flirt and call each other Bill and Laura.
(He’s not frakking her. Roslin’s aide still looks at him. She’d never be able to look at him if he was frakking Roslin. That’s one who can’t hide the fact that she’d love to serve at the pleasure of the president.)
The Admiral’d reluctantly leave and it’d be me and Roslin in the Raptor. And you can just feel her frustration rolling off of her body - the way she crosses her legs and her one foot bounces up and down.
We’re silent during the trip to Colonial One. Mostly because it’s like that in reality. What’s the frakking President of the Colonies got to say to a Raptor pilot? What do I got to say to her? Can’t really talk about the card game or the fact I’ve been up for 30 hours ‘cause we’re short on pilots again or the fact that I can’t remember what my mother’s laughter sounded like anymore. Just me and her and her foot bouncing up and down.
We arrive and she’s about to exit, when she turns like she forgot something. She looks at me and smiles - like I’m the only one in the universe that could possibly help her. Naw, not help, but satisfy her. When she asks me to come with her, we both know this is about frakking and nothing else.
Skulls isn’t there because hey, it’s my fantasy, and I don’t want him around wondering where I’m going and to deal with his smirk when I get back.
I can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off of my face. I’m gonna frak the President of the Twelve Colonies.
* * * * * * *
Hot Dog is frakking drunk. I could take pity on him or I could let him make a fool out of himself.
He ends up telling us about how he wishes Roslin would give him a blow job. Obviously, the better angels of my nature did not win. End up laughing and Seelix spitting booze in my face.
It’s a good thing she’s cute. Otherwise, we’d have to have a talk about wasting booze like that. The cute factor probably factored into the next words out of my mouth to her. “Ten cubits says Hot Dog scores some hot Presidential ass before you do.”
Jeez, Maggie, just broadcast your own little obsession with the President. However, teasing Seelix was part of my plan for the night since I noticed her checking out parts of my anatomy and not the landing sequence during training.
But yeah, a bet as to who could score Roslin. Not that we grunts could do that. Spends a little too much time with the Admiral. So, with drunken logic, I suggest a point system - something like five points for a handshake, ten for a smile and two thousand for going down on her. Seelix pretty forcefully rejects the idea. Part of me is impressed; a bigger part is disappointed. Still, I follow her out of the room as she flees the scene.
I’m gettin’ laid tonight, I’ve decided.
* * * * * * * *
We end up in the President’s quarters. Got no idea what it looks like but it’s gotta beat the hell out of my rack. Hell, it’s my fantasy - she’s got a small bed, with a soft mattress and a quilt.
It’s amazing how simple my fantasies have become. Apparently, I can only suspend my disbelief for so much.
Roslin shoves me up against the wall and kisses me hard. Her hands pull down the zipper of my flight suit. Her kisses are bruising; her hands insistently shove the suit off. She breaks the kiss to shove my tanks over my head.
I use her momentary distraction to gain control of the next kiss. I kiss her slowly, deeply. I only get one night; might as well make it last. I softly kiss down her jaw and down her neck, unbuttoning her shirt, reaching around to unclasp her bra and she moans as I slide it off.
I kiss her collarbone and the hollow between her breasts. I run my hands from her waist to her breasts, cupping them, rubbing the nipples with my thumbs. She throws her head back and bites her lip.
I surprise myself with how romantic I am in this fantasy. Normally, I like to frak hard and fast - get off, get out.
* * * * * * *
Seelix is hurt ‘cause I outted her in front of the guys. I remind her that the guys were so shitfaced that they won’t remember much about tonight. She’s real hurt so when she asks how I knew, I make some crack about GAYDIS.
It was good to see her smile. I ply her with booze and ask her what seemed to be consuming me that night. “So let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“Your Roslin fantasy.”
I think that she’s not going to tell me and I wheedle some more. Eventually after more booze and a cross-my-heart promise, she spills. She finds Earth.
(I don’t tell her that sometimes in my nightmares I find Earth and like everything I find, it’s a total shithole. Just like New Caprica. To top it all off, the humans living there banned booze for religious reasons.)
Her Earth is much more optimistic. We reunite with our long-lost relatives and we party. Then Roslin invites her down to the beach and gives Seelix a thank you she’ll never forget. Seelix’s version of Roslin is something she never seems to be; she’s much more vulnerable and needy. I have a hard time picturing Roslin like that, but it fits when Seelix tells her story. I bet some psychologist would say I have mommy issues or something because I can’t picture a vulnerable Roslin.
Seelix teases me, describing in minute detail each kiss and how she undresses Roslin. But then she stops. I can’t help myself. “And?”
Seelix smirks at me. “She moans like a porn star.” I bet she does. Damn.
“Come on. You can’t hold out on me now.”
“I make her cum for hours.”
“It can’t end there.” I want details. I want to hear how Roslin moans, how she moves, how she tastes. Godsdamnit, I need more booze.
Seelix surprises me, though. Instead of the good porny details, she ended with the joyful afterglow, cuddling and promises of again. I don’t quite know what to do with that. But apparently, according to the marks I made on my knees, it got me excited.
I don’t know what that says about me.
* * * * * * * * * *
It’s only about one night.
She pushes me downward and I happily comply. Because merciful Lords of Kobol, that’s where her legs are. She’s leaning against the wall wearing nothing but her skirt (she always wears skirts in these things) and heels. I kneel between her legs and stroke upwards, from ankle to knee over and over. When she shifts her weight, restless, I replace my hands with my tongue. She whimpers.
I smirk. Rocking back away from her again, I grab the hem of her skirt and push upward, bunching it at her waist. Then my hands begin following the line of her leg again, caressing her ankle, her calf, the back of her knee, her thigh - then pulling away to begin the process again on the other leg. When she grabs the back of my head, pulling it towards her, I get the hint and start to kiss and lick her inner thighs, higher and higher until -
“Please,” she murmurs.
I smile against her thigh, placing one last kiss there. She places one leg (still in those glorious heels) over my shoulder. I move upward and lick. She’s so incredibly wet and I feel a fleeting pride in making the frakking President of the Twelve Colonies wet like that. I lick broad strokes, slowly narrowing until I focus solely on her clit. I hear her breath catch and her moan. I can feel her legs quiver against my cheeks, feel the tension humming in her body. I stroke, harder and harder, her cries louder and louder, calling out to the Gods, her hips bucking and I’m holding her up and -
She keens and I can feel her tremble all around me.
* * * * * * * *
Then, if you would’ve given me the odds of it happening, I never would have taken you up on the bet. Into the quarters Seelix and I were hiding in, in walks the Admiral, the President’s aide and the frakking President of the Twelve Colonies herself.
Seelix is spluttering and I’m not doing much better and she asks for a frakking drink from the flask of booze that I gave Seelix.
Godsdamn.
And I can tell she knows that we’re in a mess over her. She gets a certain gleam in her eyes. She’s teasing us. Not that I’m going to complain. Not when I get to see the show Laura Roslin puts on taking that drink - the slow draw, the angle of her neck, the licking of her lips afterward.
The woman should get a godsdamned medal.
With a wink she hands the flask back to Seelix, who’s acting as if Aphrodite herself took a drink from it.
* * * * * * * *
She leads me to her bed and pushes me down on it. It’s so soft and I haven’t been in a real bed in frakking years and it feels so good that I let out a whimper.
She leans down with a predatory smile, and starts to kiss a line from my sternum to my navel. I sigh and wind my fingers in her hair.
* * * * * * *
The frakking bottle sits in front of us. Impatient as always, I urge her to drink from it. Seelix keeps looking at it like it’s a holy relic. “Quick, before it wears off.”
I can’t wipe the stupid grin off of my face. Seelix stares, picks it up and puts it in front of her face and stares some more. Finally she takes a drink.
I ask her how it was, but she can’t verbalize an answer. I snatch the bottle from her and take my own drink. Then I set the flask down, take her face in my hands and kiss her hard.
author: runawaynun
Summary: “Yeah, I have a Roslin fantasy. Hell, who doesn’t?”
Characters: Racetrack, Roslin, Seelix
Pairings: Roslin/various, Racetrack/Seelix
Rating: MA
Warnings: graphic sex
Title, Author and URL of original story: Pulling Roslin by theastolat
Thanks to murphy987 and cannibalcake for the beta
Mine? Yeah, I have a Roslin fantasy. Hell, who doesn’t? Maybe Athena. But who knows?
Mine’s not even all that creative. I get a late night request from the Admiral to shuttle the President back to Colonial One. I know - what a cliché! He’d walk her down to the hangar deck, hand on her back. I’d busy myself with my preflight checks while they flirt and call each other Bill and Laura.
(He’s not frakking her. Roslin’s aide still looks at him. She’d never be able to look at him if he was frakking Roslin. That’s one who can’t hide the fact that she’d love to serve at the pleasure of the president.)
The Admiral’d reluctantly leave and it’d be me and Roslin in the Raptor. And you can just feel her frustration rolling off of her body - the way she crosses her legs and her one foot bounces up and down.
We’re silent during the trip to Colonial One. Mostly because it’s like that in reality. What’s the frakking President of the Colonies got to say to a Raptor pilot? What do I got to say to her? Can’t really talk about the card game or the fact I’ve been up for 30 hours ‘cause we’re short on pilots again or the fact that I can’t remember what my mother’s laughter sounded like anymore. Just me and her and her foot bouncing up and down.
We arrive and she’s about to exit, when she turns like she forgot something. She looks at me and smiles - like I’m the only one in the universe that could possibly help her. Naw, not help, but satisfy her. When she asks me to come with her, we both know this is about frakking and nothing else.
Skulls isn’t there because hey, it’s my fantasy, and I don’t want him around wondering where I’m going and to deal with his smirk when I get back.
I can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off of my face. I’m gonna frak the President of the Twelve Colonies.
* * * * * * *
Hot Dog is frakking drunk. I could take pity on him or I could let him make a fool out of himself.
He ends up telling us about how he wishes Roslin would give him a blow job. Obviously, the better angels of my nature did not win. End up laughing and Seelix spitting booze in my face.
It’s a good thing she’s cute. Otherwise, we’d have to have a talk about wasting booze like that. The cute factor probably factored into the next words out of my mouth to her. “Ten cubits says Hot Dog scores some hot Presidential ass before you do.”
Jeez, Maggie, just broadcast your own little obsession with the President. However, teasing Seelix was part of my plan for the night since I noticed her checking out parts of my anatomy and not the landing sequence during training.
But yeah, a bet as to who could score Roslin. Not that we grunts could do that. Spends a little too much time with the Admiral. So, with drunken logic, I suggest a point system - something like five points for a handshake, ten for a smile and two thousand for going down on her. Seelix pretty forcefully rejects the idea. Part of me is impressed; a bigger part is disappointed. Still, I follow her out of the room as she flees the scene.
I’m gettin’ laid tonight, I’ve decided.
* * * * * * * *
We end up in the President’s quarters. Got no idea what it looks like but it’s gotta beat the hell out of my rack. Hell, it’s my fantasy - she’s got a small bed, with a soft mattress and a quilt.
It’s amazing how simple my fantasies have become. Apparently, I can only suspend my disbelief for so much.
Roslin shoves me up against the wall and kisses me hard. Her hands pull down the zipper of my flight suit. Her kisses are bruising; her hands insistently shove the suit off. She breaks the kiss to shove my tanks over my head.
I use her momentary distraction to gain control of the next kiss. I kiss her slowly, deeply. I only get one night; might as well make it last. I softly kiss down her jaw and down her neck, unbuttoning her shirt, reaching around to unclasp her bra and she moans as I slide it off.
I kiss her collarbone and the hollow between her breasts. I run my hands from her waist to her breasts, cupping them, rubbing the nipples with my thumbs. She throws her head back and bites her lip.
I surprise myself with how romantic I am in this fantasy. Normally, I like to frak hard and fast - get off, get out.
* * * * * * *
Seelix is hurt ‘cause I outted her in front of the guys. I remind her that the guys were so shitfaced that they won’t remember much about tonight. She’s real hurt so when she asks how I knew, I make some crack about GAYDIS.
It was good to see her smile. I ply her with booze and ask her what seemed to be consuming me that night. “So let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“Your Roslin fantasy.”
I think that she’s not going to tell me and I wheedle some more. Eventually after more booze and a cross-my-heart promise, she spills. She finds Earth.
(I don’t tell her that sometimes in my nightmares I find Earth and like everything I find, it’s a total shithole. Just like New Caprica. To top it all off, the humans living there banned booze for religious reasons.)
Her Earth is much more optimistic. We reunite with our long-lost relatives and we party. Then Roslin invites her down to the beach and gives Seelix a thank you she’ll never forget. Seelix’s version of Roslin is something she never seems to be; she’s much more vulnerable and needy. I have a hard time picturing Roslin like that, but it fits when Seelix tells her story. I bet some psychologist would say I have mommy issues or something because I can’t picture a vulnerable Roslin.
Seelix teases me, describing in minute detail each kiss and how she undresses Roslin. But then she stops. I can’t help myself. “And?”
Seelix smirks at me. “She moans like a porn star.” I bet she does. Damn.
“Come on. You can’t hold out on me now.”
“I make her cum for hours.”
“It can’t end there.” I want details. I want to hear how Roslin moans, how she moves, how she tastes. Godsdamnit, I need more booze.
Seelix surprises me, though. Instead of the good porny details, she ended with the joyful afterglow, cuddling and promises of again. I don’t quite know what to do with that. But apparently, according to the marks I made on my knees, it got me excited.
I don’t know what that says about me.
* * * * * * * * * *
It’s only about one night.
She pushes me downward and I happily comply. Because merciful Lords of Kobol, that’s where her legs are. She’s leaning against the wall wearing nothing but her skirt (she always wears skirts in these things) and heels. I kneel between her legs and stroke upwards, from ankle to knee over and over. When she shifts her weight, restless, I replace my hands with my tongue. She whimpers.
I smirk. Rocking back away from her again, I grab the hem of her skirt and push upward, bunching it at her waist. Then my hands begin following the line of her leg again, caressing her ankle, her calf, the back of her knee, her thigh - then pulling away to begin the process again on the other leg. When she grabs the back of my head, pulling it towards her, I get the hint and start to kiss and lick her inner thighs, higher and higher until -
“Please,” she murmurs.
I smile against her thigh, placing one last kiss there. She places one leg (still in those glorious heels) over my shoulder. I move upward and lick. She’s so incredibly wet and I feel a fleeting pride in making the frakking President of the Twelve Colonies wet like that. I lick broad strokes, slowly narrowing until I focus solely on her clit. I hear her breath catch and her moan. I can feel her legs quiver against my cheeks, feel the tension humming in her body. I stroke, harder and harder, her cries louder and louder, calling out to the Gods, her hips bucking and I’m holding her up and -
She keens and I can feel her tremble all around me.
* * * * * * * *
Then, if you would’ve given me the odds of it happening, I never would have taken you up on the bet. Into the quarters Seelix and I were hiding in, in walks the Admiral, the President’s aide and the frakking President of the Twelve Colonies herself.
Seelix is spluttering and I’m not doing much better and she asks for a frakking drink from the flask of booze that I gave Seelix.
Godsdamn.
And I can tell she knows that we’re in a mess over her. She gets a certain gleam in her eyes. She’s teasing us. Not that I’m going to complain. Not when I get to see the show Laura Roslin puts on taking that drink - the slow draw, the angle of her neck, the licking of her lips afterward.
The woman should get a godsdamned medal.
With a wink she hands the flask back to Seelix, who’s acting as if Aphrodite herself took a drink from it.
* * * * * * * *
She leads me to her bed and pushes me down on it. It’s so soft and I haven’t been in a real bed in frakking years and it feels so good that I let out a whimper.
She leans down with a predatory smile, and starts to kiss a line from my sternum to my navel. I sigh and wind my fingers in her hair.
* * * * * * *
The frakking bottle sits in front of us. Impatient as always, I urge her to drink from it. Seelix keeps looking at it like it’s a holy relic. “Quick, before it wears off.”
I can’t wipe the stupid grin off of my face. Seelix stares, picks it up and puts it in front of her face and stares some more. Finally she takes a drink.
I ask her how it was, but she can’t verbalize an answer. I snatch the bottle from her and take my own drink. Then I set the flask down, take her face in my hands and kiss her hard.