FIC: Date Night (1/3)
Rating: MA
Word Count: 2,225
Summary: Is it a first date if you’ve already been frakking for a year?
Genre: PWP, Smut, Romance, Humor, Fluff
Series: Love in a Time of War: 7
A/N: I need a break from the angst this series was doling out, and I’m assuming readers do as well, so let’s have some fluff, frolicking and frakking!
Chapter One:
Adama leaned back against the seat in his Raptor, trying to slow his thundering heartbeats. This was ridiculous. How many first dates had he been on in his life? Dozens? And did this even count as a first date, if they’d been frakking for over a year?
He shouldn’t get too far ahead anyway. Not until he had Laura in his arms. There’d been at least three planned dates that hadn’t gotten off the ground.
The first time, they had moved easily back to his quarters after a conference in the CIC to have dinner, and he’d decided that his distrust of her plan had been unjustified. It had felt good to not talk about work, to have another person across from him for his meal, slowing his eating to a leisurely pace.
She asked him about when the boys were young, then about Zak specifically. “If it’s not too painful for you,” she had said, sipping her water.
He shook his head. “No, no. I love talking about him. Sometimes Lee will, but Kara doesn’t seem to want to talk about him anymore.”
After a few stories, she said, “He sounds like such a sweet boy.”
Bill drained his glass. “He was. I should have seen that and not pushed so hard. He was too easygoing to push back.”
She hummed in response, her eyes worried.
He gave her a bittersweet grin. “Not quite what you had in mind, is it? Talking about something besides...everything else...was supposed to be relaxing.”
She laid her chopsticks aside and shrugged. “Maybe we’re just not easy people, Bill.”
He hadn’t had an answer to that, and then the comm had rung.
It had been Tyrol with an issue on the flight deck, and by the time Bill had returned, she’d been gone, a hand-written note on his table explaining that she had early meetings. She had cleared the dishes though.
These things happen, he’d thought.
The next time, she didn’t even get as far as his quarters. She’d been due at 2100 hours, but called to say that a Quorum debate was running long and she’d call back later. And she had called, her voice husky with near sleep, sounding as though she was warm and comfortable. He’d wanted to be right there beside her in bed.
“I nearly forgot about you,” she’d murmured.
In his own bed, he’d put aside his book, pulled off his glasses and rubbed his bleary eyes. He’d said, “That’s okay, I was just about ready to go to sleep too.”
But when he’d hung up, he’d spent a long time turning his glasses over in his hands before finally turning his bedside lamp off.
The next broken date was him again, delayed on the CIC, but he still ended up feeling resentful that she hadn’t thought he might like being greeted by a midnight visitor when he finally dragged himself back to his quarters.
And that wasn’t even counting the various times they’d discussed meetings, but hadn’t gotten as far as setting a date or time. Ironically, where in the past they may spend an hour after a meeting chatting, sharing a drink, now it felt as though they should have set a date, and she scampered away the moment their business was concluded, or he grabbed his files and headed off of Colonial One. The situation had moved over the line to uncomfortable, and he felt as nervous as a teenage boy headed to pick up his prom date.
He actually wiped sweat from his brow. Great, now he would have B.O. by the time he landed at Colonial One.
“Prepare for landing, sir,” came the cool voice of his pilot, jostling him back to sanity. He discreetly sniffed his armpit and decided he was safe for now.
He had to pass Tory’s office space on his way up to Laura’s area. The young woman was still at her desk, sorting through papers and taking notes.
“Good evening, Miss Foster,” he said pointedly, trying make it sound more like an order than a greeting.
She smiled thinly at him. “Good evening, Admiral Adama.”
He tried again. “Working late?”
“There’s always work to do.”
He refrained himself from pointing out that all work and no play made Tory a dull girl. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, heading up the final staircase.
Pausing outside the closed curtain to Laura’s private quarters, he pulled the collar of his tunic away from his damp neck before knocking on the door jamb.
“Come in,” called Laura and he was through the curtain as fast as a overanxious dog. Only to stop, nearly dropping his bag.
She stood in the middle of the room in a soft white and pastel patterned negligee, her hair freshly brushed into a wreath of red curls, her own anxiety showing on her damp lips and bright eyes.
“Good evening,” she said unnecessarily. Responding to his silence and staring, she held the robe out from her sides. “I didn’t have anything to wear but work suits, and I didn’t think that was quite the mood--“
“No,” he agreed. “You look nice,” he added unnecessarily. The uncomfortable thing was happening again; he should have kissed her right off but that moment had passed. He was rooted to the floor.
“Oh, this old thing,” she said, then, frowning, “It is old, as a matter of fact, getting really ratty.”
Mentally kicking himself forward, Bill said, “It’s fine,” taking the last few steps to her and her waiting mouth, her parted lips letting him know it was okay to move right along to a deep, explorative kiss. His free hand swept under her robe quickly, finding bare back, warm skin, quivering muscles as he pressed her soft breasts to his chest.
“You planning on staying a while?” she gasped. Somehow his bag had gotten stuck between their legs. He set it on a chair and unsnapped the opening.
“For you,” he said, first giving her the chocolates.
Pressing a shaking hand to her blushing cheek, she said, “Oh, Bill. A boy hasn’t given me candy since I was fifteen.”
His face fell. He’d made an idiot of himself.
She saw his reaction and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. “I’m just so surprised. I never thought--“ She dropped her gaze. “I didn’t get you anything.”
He breathed, “That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Wicked green eyes glinted at him. She held the box to her chest. “We’ll save these for another occasion. Share them.”
He dipped into the bag again. Turning back to her, he carefully peeled the damp cloth away from the single orchid, holding it out, feeling like a little boy again. Maybe this had all been a really stupid idea--
Then he saw the tears on her eyelashes, and she whispered, “Bill...it can’t be.”
“It’s real,” he told her.
“Yes, I know it would be from you.”
She nestled in the crook of his arm, and lifted his hand with the bloom to her nose. He decided the reason that men gave flowers to woman was because they looked so lovely smelling them. He stroked her hair back to watch her, and she smiled up at him.
She brushed her lips on his. “I should put this in some water,” she said.
He collapsed into one of the armchairs as she sashayed away with her flower.
After some clanking around in her bathroom, she returned with her flower in an old perfume bottle, simple but beautiful for something so rare.
Placing her gift on a table, she drifted over to him, but did not sit in a chair. He glanced over at her bed, then quickly away. “I feel overdressed,” he croaked, his fingertips grazing her robe’s frayed hem.
“You are,” she murmured, swaying.
He gulped. “Feels sort of like a wedding night,” he blurted out and then winced when he saw her expression become nervous.
“It shouldn’t,” she said, taking a step back.
As he was cursing his runaway mouth, she dropped to her knees...and thought headed straight down to his groin. But she was unlacing his boots, biting her lower lip in concentration.
He bent over, saying, “I’ve got that--“ and clunked his head with her. “Sorry,” he gasped, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut in pain and embarrassment.
She rolled onto her butt, rubbing her head and grinning at him. “I’ll let you finish.”
He had to kiss her. Half-falling from the chair, landing with a crack on his knees, he frog-walked to follow her reclining body, chasing her sparkling eyes, her grin, her wrinkling nose.
Kissing her mouth open, his thumbs rubbing her ear whorls, he balanced on his knees and elbows so not to crush her into the tattered carpet.
She sighed against his tongue, whispering, “Bill, we can be more comfortable.” Her fingers were working on his tunic buttons.
“I’m comfortable,” he mumbled, shrugging out of his jacket.
She wiggled out from under him, laughing. Getting upright, she pushed her hair back from her flushed face. “Come on, get up and get those pants off.”
He had no problem taking these orders. He stumbled up, caught between galloping fantasies and the reality that unfastened pants don’t make standing easier.
“Here, here,” she said, pushing the pants down so he could step out of them.
She ran her slim fingers along the stretched-out waistband of his boxer briefs and cuddled into his body. She murmured in his ear, “I love these.”
He glanced down at the worn grey cotton, snug now only from his half-erection, but they’d started to bag in the seat lately. “Really?” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, sucking his earlobe. “I like the way they fit when you’re getting hard.” She cupped him confidently, and he pressed into her hand, his breathing beginning to speed up. She swallowed, and added, “I like to touch you through them--“ She traced the outline of his thick, slightly bowed, cock, brushing the head with her thumb, rubbing the tender skin with the soft worn fabric.
“I’ve only got the one pair,” he graveled, regret tingeing his voice.
“Take good care of them,” she ordered, slipping her hand lower to cradle his sac.
He didn’t dared touch her for fear it would distract her from her ministrations. “I will,” he promised fervently.
“Hand wash them; it’ll help,” she said, squeezing his belly with both hands. “My muffin,” she whispered and he frowned, but then she was gone, wandering towards the bed.
Following, he stroked the robe from her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she murmured, before sinking onto her bed and scooted up into the corner of the chair that made the headboard, pulling her knees up, her eyes an open invitation.
“Sure there’s enough room for both of us?” he asked, carefully sitting beside her.
She draped her legs across his lap, pulling his head down into her armpit. Her fingers laced through his hair as he breathed in her scent. She said, “As much as your rack.”
“I’ve got to order a bigger bed--“
“You can’t do that,” she said quickly and he echoed with her, “Then everyone would know.” She made a face at him, tweaking his nose. He grabbed her pinkie in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the digit, using the technique that he knew worked on her clit, his warm eyes teasing her.
But she seemed to be in no hurry. As his wide hand slid up her thighs and under her gown’s unraveling hem, brushing the worn fabric higher, her legs didn’t open in welcome.
She was right; they had plenty of time, as long as that damn comm didn’t ring...
“Laura,” he murmured as he nibbled the swell of her breast that peeked above her neckline.
“Yeah,” she replied, sounding unfocused. Her hands were busy sweeping under his tanks, as though she could smooth his skin like wet clay.
“Would you do something with me?”
That got her attention. She looked down at him, her light eyes sharp and questioning. Then she blinked, dark eyelashes brushing against her blushing cheeks. “I guess it depends,” she said carefully.
He smiled slowly. “It’s something I really want to do.”
“Oooo-kay,” she said, letting him pull her body into his, so that the bulge in his briefs pressed against her lower belly. She stared over his shoulder and he enjoyed watching her think. Her pink tongue flicked across her lips. “What is it?”
“It’s something that will probably scare you,” he rumbled in her ear, warm and safe in the nest of her hair. His fingertips trailed up her side towards her armpit, causing her to shiver. He watched her breathing quicken, her nipples hardening against the slick fabric of her gown.
“What?” she panted in his ear.
“I want to take us back to Caprica,” he said, before capturing her gaping mouth and falling back into its depths.
End (1/4) Chapter 2>>>
Word Count: 2,225
Summary: Is it a first date if you’ve already been frakking for a year?
Genre: PWP, Smut, Romance, Humor, Fluff
Series: Love in a Time of War: 7
A/N: I need a break from the angst this series was doling out, and I’m assuming readers do as well, so let’s have some fluff, frolicking and frakking!
Chapter One:
Adama leaned back against the seat in his Raptor, trying to slow his thundering heartbeats. This was ridiculous. How many first dates had he been on in his life? Dozens? And did this even count as a first date, if they’d been frakking for over a year?
He shouldn’t get too far ahead anyway. Not until he had Laura in his arms. There’d been at least three planned dates that hadn’t gotten off the ground.
The first time, they had moved easily back to his quarters after a conference in the CIC to have dinner, and he’d decided that his distrust of her plan had been unjustified. It had felt good to not talk about work, to have another person across from him for his meal, slowing his eating to a leisurely pace.
She asked him about when the boys were young, then about Zak specifically. “If it’s not too painful for you,” she had said, sipping her water.
He shook his head. “No, no. I love talking about him. Sometimes Lee will, but Kara doesn’t seem to want to talk about him anymore.”
After a few stories, she said, “He sounds like such a sweet boy.”
Bill drained his glass. “He was. I should have seen that and not pushed so hard. He was too easygoing to push back.”
She hummed in response, her eyes worried.
He gave her a bittersweet grin. “Not quite what you had in mind, is it? Talking about something besides...everything else...was supposed to be relaxing.”
She laid her chopsticks aside and shrugged. “Maybe we’re just not easy people, Bill.”
He hadn’t had an answer to that, and then the comm had rung.
It had been Tyrol with an issue on the flight deck, and by the time Bill had returned, she’d been gone, a hand-written note on his table explaining that she had early meetings. She had cleared the dishes though.
These things happen, he’d thought.
The next time, she didn’t even get as far as his quarters. She’d been due at 2100 hours, but called to say that a Quorum debate was running long and she’d call back later. And she had called, her voice husky with near sleep, sounding as though she was warm and comfortable. He’d wanted to be right there beside her in bed.
“I nearly forgot about you,” she’d murmured.
In his own bed, he’d put aside his book, pulled off his glasses and rubbed his bleary eyes. He’d said, “That’s okay, I was just about ready to go to sleep too.”
But when he’d hung up, he’d spent a long time turning his glasses over in his hands before finally turning his bedside lamp off.
The next broken date was him again, delayed on the CIC, but he still ended up feeling resentful that she hadn’t thought he might like being greeted by a midnight visitor when he finally dragged himself back to his quarters.
And that wasn’t even counting the various times they’d discussed meetings, but hadn’t gotten as far as setting a date or time. Ironically, where in the past they may spend an hour after a meeting chatting, sharing a drink, now it felt as though they should have set a date, and she scampered away the moment their business was concluded, or he grabbed his files and headed off of Colonial One. The situation had moved over the line to uncomfortable, and he felt as nervous as a teenage boy headed to pick up his prom date.
He actually wiped sweat from his brow. Great, now he would have B.O. by the time he landed at Colonial One.
“Prepare for landing, sir,” came the cool voice of his pilot, jostling him back to sanity. He discreetly sniffed his armpit and decided he was safe for now.
He had to pass Tory’s office space on his way up to Laura’s area. The young woman was still at her desk, sorting through papers and taking notes.
“Good evening, Miss Foster,” he said pointedly, trying make it sound more like an order than a greeting.
She smiled thinly at him. “Good evening, Admiral Adama.”
He tried again. “Working late?”
“There’s always work to do.”
He refrained himself from pointing out that all work and no play made Tory a dull girl. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, heading up the final staircase.
Pausing outside the closed curtain to Laura’s private quarters, he pulled the collar of his tunic away from his damp neck before knocking on the door jamb.
“Come in,” called Laura and he was through the curtain as fast as a overanxious dog. Only to stop, nearly dropping his bag.
She stood in the middle of the room in a soft white and pastel patterned negligee, her hair freshly brushed into a wreath of red curls, her own anxiety showing on her damp lips and bright eyes.
“Good evening,” she said unnecessarily. Responding to his silence and staring, she held the robe out from her sides. “I didn’t have anything to wear but work suits, and I didn’t think that was quite the mood--“
“No,” he agreed. “You look nice,” he added unnecessarily. The uncomfortable thing was happening again; he should have kissed her right off but that moment had passed. He was rooted to the floor.
“Oh, this old thing,” she said, then, frowning, “It is old, as a matter of fact, getting really ratty.”
Mentally kicking himself forward, Bill said, “It’s fine,” taking the last few steps to her and her waiting mouth, her parted lips letting him know it was okay to move right along to a deep, explorative kiss. His free hand swept under her robe quickly, finding bare back, warm skin, quivering muscles as he pressed her soft breasts to his chest.
“You planning on staying a while?” she gasped. Somehow his bag had gotten stuck between their legs. He set it on a chair and unsnapped the opening.
“For you,” he said, first giving her the chocolates.
Pressing a shaking hand to her blushing cheek, she said, “Oh, Bill. A boy hasn’t given me candy since I was fifteen.”
His face fell. He’d made an idiot of himself.
She saw his reaction and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. “I’m just so surprised. I never thought--“ She dropped her gaze. “I didn’t get you anything.”
He breathed, “That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Wicked green eyes glinted at him. She held the box to her chest. “We’ll save these for another occasion. Share them.”
He dipped into the bag again. Turning back to her, he carefully peeled the damp cloth away from the single orchid, holding it out, feeling like a little boy again. Maybe this had all been a really stupid idea--
Then he saw the tears on her eyelashes, and she whispered, “Bill...it can’t be.”
“It’s real,” he told her.
“Yes, I know it would be from you.”
She nestled in the crook of his arm, and lifted his hand with the bloom to her nose. He decided the reason that men gave flowers to woman was because they looked so lovely smelling them. He stroked her hair back to watch her, and she smiled up at him.
She brushed her lips on his. “I should put this in some water,” she said.
He collapsed into one of the armchairs as she sashayed away with her flower.
After some clanking around in her bathroom, she returned with her flower in an old perfume bottle, simple but beautiful for something so rare.
Placing her gift on a table, she drifted over to him, but did not sit in a chair. He glanced over at her bed, then quickly away. “I feel overdressed,” he croaked, his fingertips grazing her robe’s frayed hem.
“You are,” she murmured, swaying.
He gulped. “Feels sort of like a wedding night,” he blurted out and then winced when he saw her expression become nervous.
“It shouldn’t,” she said, taking a step back.
As he was cursing his runaway mouth, she dropped to her knees...and thought headed straight down to his groin. But she was unlacing his boots, biting her lower lip in concentration.
He bent over, saying, “I’ve got that--“ and clunked his head with her. “Sorry,” he gasped, momentarily squeezing his eyes shut in pain and embarrassment.
She rolled onto her butt, rubbing her head and grinning at him. “I’ll let you finish.”
He had to kiss her. Half-falling from the chair, landing with a crack on his knees, he frog-walked to follow her reclining body, chasing her sparkling eyes, her grin, her wrinkling nose.
Kissing her mouth open, his thumbs rubbing her ear whorls, he balanced on his knees and elbows so not to crush her into the tattered carpet.
She sighed against his tongue, whispering, “Bill, we can be more comfortable.” Her fingers were working on his tunic buttons.
“I’m comfortable,” he mumbled, shrugging out of his jacket.
She wiggled out from under him, laughing. Getting upright, she pushed her hair back from her flushed face. “Come on, get up and get those pants off.”
He had no problem taking these orders. He stumbled up, caught between galloping fantasies and the reality that unfastened pants don’t make standing easier.
“Here, here,” she said, pushing the pants down so he could step out of them.
She ran her slim fingers along the stretched-out waistband of his boxer briefs and cuddled into his body. She murmured in his ear, “I love these.”
He glanced down at the worn grey cotton, snug now only from his half-erection, but they’d started to bag in the seat lately. “Really?” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, sucking his earlobe. “I like the way they fit when you’re getting hard.” She cupped him confidently, and he pressed into her hand, his breathing beginning to speed up. She swallowed, and added, “I like to touch you through them--“ She traced the outline of his thick, slightly bowed, cock, brushing the head with her thumb, rubbing the tender skin with the soft worn fabric.
“I’ve only got the one pair,” he graveled, regret tingeing his voice.
“Take good care of them,” she ordered, slipping her hand lower to cradle his sac.
He didn’t dared touch her for fear it would distract her from her ministrations. “I will,” he promised fervently.
“Hand wash them; it’ll help,” she said, squeezing his belly with both hands. “My muffin,” she whispered and he frowned, but then she was gone, wandering towards the bed.
Following, he stroked the robe from her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she murmured, before sinking onto her bed and scooted up into the corner of the chair that made the headboard, pulling her knees up, her eyes an open invitation.
“Sure there’s enough room for both of us?” he asked, carefully sitting beside her.
She draped her legs across his lap, pulling his head down into her armpit. Her fingers laced through his hair as he breathed in her scent. She said, “As much as your rack.”
“I’ve got to order a bigger bed--“
“You can’t do that,” she said quickly and he echoed with her, “Then everyone would know.” She made a face at him, tweaking his nose. He grabbed her pinkie in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the digit, using the technique that he knew worked on her clit, his warm eyes teasing her.
But she seemed to be in no hurry. As his wide hand slid up her thighs and under her gown’s unraveling hem, brushing the worn fabric higher, her legs didn’t open in welcome.
She was right; they had plenty of time, as long as that damn comm didn’t ring...
“Laura,” he murmured as he nibbled the swell of her breast that peeked above her neckline.
“Yeah,” she replied, sounding unfocused. Her hands were busy sweeping under his tanks, as though she could smooth his skin like wet clay.
“Would you do something with me?”
That got her attention. She looked down at him, her light eyes sharp and questioning. Then she blinked, dark eyelashes brushing against her blushing cheeks. “I guess it depends,” she said carefully.
He smiled slowly. “It’s something I really want to do.”
“Oooo-kay,” she said, letting him pull her body into his, so that the bulge in his briefs pressed against her lower belly. She stared over his shoulder and he enjoyed watching her think. Her pink tongue flicked across her lips. “What is it?”
“It’s something that will probably scare you,” he rumbled in her ear, warm and safe in the nest of her hair. His fingertips trailed up her side towards her armpit, causing her to shiver. He watched her breathing quicken, her nipples hardening against the slick fabric of her gown.
“What?” she panted in his ear.
“I want to take us back to Caprica,” he said, before capturing her gaping mouth and falling back into its depths.
End (1/4) Chapter 2>>>