BSG_kink drabbles (Adama/Roslin)
Love is a Literature
Prompt: talk dirty to me
He likes it when Laura talks dirty. He gets hard when he thinks of her precise tones, the elegant movements of her supple lips forming
frak me hard
give me your cock, shove it deep in my cunt
frak my tits, frak my ass, just make me cum
She giggles when he asks her to talk like that, but he knows what to do. Three fingers in her pussy, teeth worrying a nipple, and
I'm gonna touch myself; I want you to watch
I want you to frak my mouth
Sometimes she giggles afterwards, but that makes him hard, too.
A sign upon your heart
It was something they fought about. Bill was always chasing her with that godsdamned washcloth, but she preferred to walk out of his quarters with a dripping pussy. She liked the smell of him; she suspected he didn't.
It wasn't like anyone else could smell him on her, not in the refrigerated air of their tin-can homes. Gods knew she tried, crossing and recrossing her legs during Quorum meetings. A part of her wanted them, all of them, to know that he'd marked his territory.
It was only once or twice she thought that Zarek might have gotten a whiff.
Bitter and sweet, tinged with regret
Prompt: in his head
At night, she's in his head. He sits at her grave and talks to her. She comes to him, luminous, the way she was when he first should have loved her. He plunges his hands into the masses of her hair, pulling her closer. She kneels at his side, whispering low desires hot into his ear, and then she's kissing, licking, sucking, spreading her legs and taking him in. Tits, cunt, ass, fingers, mouth, until at the dawn he wakes with a limp dick and his own hand. He'll never be free of her, nor would he want to be.
Chamalla prophecies
"Do you like to suck cock?"
She drops the fuel consumption report. "What?" No answer. "Commander, what did you ask?"
He looks up from his own report, confused. "I didn't say anything."
"You asked if I like -- "
Frak. He'd been thinking it, didn't mean to say it aloud.
She has a vision of herself down on her knees, his cock sprung free of his uniform, of her lipstick-red lips tight around his girth. His hands in her hair, her tongue along that vein, his surprised grunt as she swallows and licks…
"For the record, yes. I absolutely do."
Change of Perception
She likes to watch.
She likes to see him, watch him dress and undress. Working in CIC. Reading reports, turning the pages. Shaving. Brushing his teeth. Boxing.
She's had her mirrors from Colonial One sent over and set up by the bed so she can watch him frak her. She loves the color of his skin, the way it looks on hers. He doesn’t understand why she asks him run a hand over his chest, his nipples, to stroke himself, but she knows.
From the beginning she found his masculinity appealing. Over the years she's come to find him beautiful.
In My Sins or Waking Dreams
Prompt: rough sex, sex in the brig, taking her from behind, holding onto the bars
"It's my ship! My men! You suborned mutiny!"
"You're wrong. I'm right."
There are only two things you can do to a mouth like that -- fist or frak. So you kiss her hard, biting, drawing blood. Ripping clothes, bending her over, hands against the cell's bars, pounding her so all she can say is 'no, please, don't.' You don't listen. Her words lie, her wetness doesn't. You pinch and tweak until she pleads 'yes, more.' You spill into her like liquid fire until all that she can scream is your name.
When Sharon shoots you, it feels like penance.
Partnership
They always fought for supremacy, battled for the position of power. Day after day, from ship's morning to ship's night, in his quarters, her office, the CIC, never giving ground.
It was only here they had negotiated a truce of equality, her head between his legs, his between hers. She adored the taste of a man in her mouth, he loved the feel of a woman on his tongue. Her hums around his cock became his growls into her pussy, traveled down her body becoming hums again.
Maybe someday they'd be able to work together as well out of bed.
Alternative medicine
Cancer makes her horny.
First time around, she frakked Richard senseless before making her doctor's appointment. Then she spent a working trip ogling a military commander who obviously despised her.
This time around she's lured Bill into holding her, claiming she needed comfort. One well-timed turn and his hand is on her breast; she covers it with her own, squeezing like the mammogram she never had back home. Another turn and her thigh is rubbing his cloth-covered cock.
Today she got her diagnosis and tonight she's being frakked senseless. It was the one response to cancer her mother never tried.
An ounce of prevention
"I'm worried about the rate of cancer in the Fleet." It's an odd conversation to start while he's buried inside her, but Laura's an odd woman.
"You already talked to Cottle?"
"Of course. He's concerned, too."
"And?"
"Best cure's prevention."
"Meaning?"
"Did you know how powerful the male orgasm is?"
Bill chuckles and thrusts up sharply.
"I'm serious. Men who get off regularly have lower risk of heart problems, breast cancer, and prostate cancer."
"You're joking."
"Cottle's got the study from Delphi University." She rolls her hips, squeezing him tight. "We agreed it's my duty to keep you healthy, Admiral."
Kid in a candy shop
Prompt: fun factory anal chain
Laura pads around the room naked, discovering treasures hidden on his shelves.
"This Lee's or Zak's?" She holds up a cute silicone beetle with a long tail of beads.
"Mine."
Within ten minutes he's got her on all fours, his cock pistoning in her pussy, hands slicked up, pushing a bead into her ass with every other downstroke.
When she comes, he pulls them out and she's on fire around him, pulling him with her.
She collapses onto her stomach and he teases her ass with the beads, enjoying her shudders.
"Boys and their toys," she giggles.
The Education of Miss Laura Roslin
He came home to find her dusting bookshelves. "What the frak you doing?"
"It's dusty; I was sneezing."
He took the feather away. "With this? You can't really be this naïve."
She shrugged.
He shook the dust out. "Take off your shirt."
"What?"
"Gonna have to teach you a thing or two."
He brushed the feather over the top of her breasts, down her arms, across her stomach. Her collarbone, the column of her neck. He swirled the tip over her nipples.
"I'll bet that would feel amazing under my skirt."
He pointed to his rack. "That's kinda the idea."
The Gourmand
The first time Bill tried going down on her, Laura sat up so quick she nearly hurt him.
"Don't tell me you're the one woman in the universe doesn't like that," Bill grumbled.
"No, just -- I've been told -- I taste -- odd."
Bill spread her legs. "Never tasted a woman who tasted odd." He took a tentative swipe. "Salt. Lotta garlic. A little cilantro. Some anise? A hint of vanilla." Another taste, a lingering thoughtful lick. "You taste like my grandma's Tauronese stew."
"I taste like stew. That's odd."
He smiled against her thigh. "You taste like home."
Frakstache 2.0
Saul teases him about how often he brushes his teeth. Saul is an idiot. He'll never understand.
He'll never understand because he'll never see Laura, knees bent and spread, her hands splayed across her breasts, her fingers pinching her nipples. Because he'll never see Bill's fingers and then his tongue plunging in and out of her pussy. Because he couldn't even conceive of Laura writhing, panting and pleading for more.
Because he'll never watch Bill apply the bristles of his toothbrush to Laura's clit, whispering on the upstroke, rough on the down. A mustache isn't the worlds' only flavor saver.
Band of Gold
He'd taken his ring off after the divorce, committed to no one and nothing. After the Fall he put it back, a symbol of his commitment to the Fleet. He's not sure when it started being a symbol of commitment to the leader of the Fleet.
He runs his ring finger over her body, the metal caressing throat, breast, nipple, belly. Lower, between her thighs, curls, clit and cunt. He thrusts his finger into her, sharing the symbol as they've always shared the commitment.
She is not president anymore, but to him she'll always be the reason they all survive.
koinonos
Prompt: You don't love me. You just want to get in my pants.
She'd seen his look as he locked her in the brig. She knew what it meant. You didn't get to be her age without knowing what it meant.
She could give it to him, throw herself at his mercy, at his lips, at his hips. It would be hate sex and it would be good. It might even save her presidency.
But the morning after would be a bitch. She had a feeling that Bill Adama divided the world into women he frakked and women he loved, and if they were all to survive, she need to have his love.
What Women Want
Bill Adama knew what women liked. He'd been married, after all.
You kiss them. Play with their tits. Go down on them. A lot.
Give 'em an orgasm and then climb on.
So he was shocked when Laura pulled his hands away from her breasts and dove down to take him in her mouth.
"You don't have to do that."
Laura looked up at him. "I want to."
"Women don't want to do that."
"Who told you that?"
"My wife."
"Your *ex*-wife," she said in a breath against his cock, "was an idiot."
And sometimes, he thought, so was he.
Prompt: talk dirty to me
He likes it when Laura talks dirty. He gets hard when he thinks of her precise tones, the elegant movements of her supple lips forming
frak me hard
give me your cock, shove it deep in my cunt
frak my tits, frak my ass, just make me cum
She giggles when he asks her to talk like that, but he knows what to do. Three fingers in her pussy, teeth worrying a nipple, and
I'm gonna touch myself; I want you to watch
I want you to frak my mouth
Sometimes she giggles afterwards, but that makes him hard, too.
A sign upon your heart
It was something they fought about. Bill was always chasing her with that godsdamned washcloth, but she preferred to walk out of his quarters with a dripping pussy. She liked the smell of him; she suspected he didn't.
It wasn't like anyone else could smell him on her, not in the refrigerated air of their tin-can homes. Gods knew she tried, crossing and recrossing her legs during Quorum meetings. A part of her wanted them, all of them, to know that he'd marked his territory.
It was only once or twice she thought that Zarek might have gotten a whiff.
Bitter and sweet, tinged with regret
Prompt: in his head
At night, she's in his head. He sits at her grave and talks to her. She comes to him, luminous, the way she was when he first should have loved her. He plunges his hands into the masses of her hair, pulling her closer. She kneels at his side, whispering low desires hot into his ear, and then she's kissing, licking, sucking, spreading her legs and taking him in. Tits, cunt, ass, fingers, mouth, until at the dawn he wakes with a limp dick and his own hand. He'll never be free of her, nor would he want to be.
Chamalla prophecies
"Do you like to suck cock?"
She drops the fuel consumption report. "What?" No answer. "Commander, what did you ask?"
He looks up from his own report, confused. "I didn't say anything."
"You asked if I like -- "
Frak. He'd been thinking it, didn't mean to say it aloud.
She has a vision of herself down on her knees, his cock sprung free of his uniform, of her lipstick-red lips tight around his girth. His hands in her hair, her tongue along that vein, his surprised grunt as she swallows and licks…
"For the record, yes. I absolutely do."
Change of Perception
She likes to watch.
She likes to see him, watch him dress and undress. Working in CIC. Reading reports, turning the pages. Shaving. Brushing his teeth. Boxing.
She's had her mirrors from Colonial One sent over and set up by the bed so she can watch him frak her. She loves the color of his skin, the way it looks on hers. He doesn’t understand why she asks him run a hand over his chest, his nipples, to stroke himself, but she knows.
From the beginning she found his masculinity appealing. Over the years she's come to find him beautiful.
In My Sins or Waking Dreams
Prompt: rough sex, sex in the brig, taking her from behind, holding onto the bars
"It's my ship! My men! You suborned mutiny!"
"You're wrong. I'm right."
There are only two things you can do to a mouth like that -- fist or frak. So you kiss her hard, biting, drawing blood. Ripping clothes, bending her over, hands against the cell's bars, pounding her so all she can say is 'no, please, don't.' You don't listen. Her words lie, her wetness doesn't. You pinch and tweak until she pleads 'yes, more.' You spill into her like liquid fire until all that she can scream is your name.
When Sharon shoots you, it feels like penance.
Partnership
They always fought for supremacy, battled for the position of power. Day after day, from ship's morning to ship's night, in his quarters, her office, the CIC, never giving ground.
It was only here they had negotiated a truce of equality, her head between his legs, his between hers. She adored the taste of a man in her mouth, he loved the feel of a woman on his tongue. Her hums around his cock became his growls into her pussy, traveled down her body becoming hums again.
Maybe someday they'd be able to work together as well out of bed.
Alternative medicine
Cancer makes her horny.
First time around, she frakked Richard senseless before making her doctor's appointment. Then she spent a working trip ogling a military commander who obviously despised her.
This time around she's lured Bill into holding her, claiming she needed comfort. One well-timed turn and his hand is on her breast; she covers it with her own, squeezing like the mammogram she never had back home. Another turn and her thigh is rubbing his cloth-covered cock.
Today she got her diagnosis and tonight she's being frakked senseless. It was the one response to cancer her mother never tried.
An ounce of prevention
"I'm worried about the rate of cancer in the Fleet." It's an odd conversation to start while he's buried inside her, but Laura's an odd woman.
"You already talked to Cottle?"
"Of course. He's concerned, too."
"And?"
"Best cure's prevention."
"Meaning?"
"Did you know how powerful the male orgasm is?"
Bill chuckles and thrusts up sharply.
"I'm serious. Men who get off regularly have lower risk of heart problems, breast cancer, and prostate cancer."
"You're joking."
"Cottle's got the study from Delphi University." She rolls her hips, squeezing him tight. "We agreed it's my duty to keep you healthy, Admiral."
Kid in a candy shop
Prompt: fun factory anal chain
Laura pads around the room naked, discovering treasures hidden on his shelves.
"This Lee's or Zak's?" She holds up a cute silicone beetle with a long tail of beads.
"Mine."
Within ten minutes he's got her on all fours, his cock pistoning in her pussy, hands slicked up, pushing a bead into her ass with every other downstroke.
When she comes, he pulls them out and she's on fire around him, pulling him with her.
She collapses onto her stomach and he teases her ass with the beads, enjoying her shudders.
"Boys and their toys," she giggles.
The Education of Miss Laura Roslin
He came home to find her dusting bookshelves. "What the frak you doing?"
"It's dusty; I was sneezing."
He took the feather away. "With this? You can't really be this naïve."
She shrugged.
He shook the dust out. "Take off your shirt."
"What?"
"Gonna have to teach you a thing or two."
He brushed the feather over the top of her breasts, down her arms, across her stomach. Her collarbone, the column of her neck. He swirled the tip over her nipples.
"I'll bet that would feel amazing under my skirt."
He pointed to his rack. "That's kinda the idea."
The Gourmand
The first time Bill tried going down on her, Laura sat up so quick she nearly hurt him.
"Don't tell me you're the one woman in the universe doesn't like that," Bill grumbled.
"No, just -- I've been told -- I taste -- odd."
Bill spread her legs. "Never tasted a woman who tasted odd." He took a tentative swipe. "Salt. Lotta garlic. A little cilantro. Some anise? A hint of vanilla." Another taste, a lingering thoughtful lick. "You taste like my grandma's Tauronese stew."
"I taste like stew. That's odd."
He smiled against her thigh. "You taste like home."
Frakstache 2.0
Saul teases him about how often he brushes his teeth. Saul is an idiot. He'll never understand.
He'll never understand because he'll never see Laura, knees bent and spread, her hands splayed across her breasts, her fingers pinching her nipples. Because he'll never see Bill's fingers and then his tongue plunging in and out of her pussy. Because he couldn't even conceive of Laura writhing, panting and pleading for more.
Because he'll never watch Bill apply the bristles of his toothbrush to Laura's clit, whispering on the upstroke, rough on the down. A mustache isn't the worlds' only flavor saver.
Band of Gold
He'd taken his ring off after the divorce, committed to no one and nothing. After the Fall he put it back, a symbol of his commitment to the Fleet. He's not sure when it started being a symbol of commitment to the leader of the Fleet.
He runs his ring finger over her body, the metal caressing throat, breast, nipple, belly. Lower, between her thighs, curls, clit and cunt. He thrusts his finger into her, sharing the symbol as they've always shared the commitment.
She is not president anymore, but to him she'll always be the reason they all survive.
koinonos
Prompt: You don't love me. You just want to get in my pants.
She'd seen his look as he locked her in the brig. She knew what it meant. You didn't get to be her age without knowing what it meant.
She could give it to him, throw herself at his mercy, at his lips, at his hips. It would be hate sex and it would be good. It might even save her presidency.
But the morning after would be a bitch. She had a feeling that Bill Adama divided the world into women he frakked and women he loved, and if they were all to survive, she need to have his love.
What Women Want
Bill Adama knew what women liked. He'd been married, after all.
You kiss them. Play with their tits. Go down on them. A lot.
Give 'em an orgasm and then climb on.
So he was shocked when Laura pulled his hands away from her breasts and dove down to take him in her mouth.
"You don't have to do that."
Laura looked up at him. "I want to."
"Women don't want to do that."
"Who told you that?"
"My wife."
"Your *ex*-wife," she said in a breath against his cock, "was an idiot."
And sometimes, he thought, so was he.