To His Mistress Going To Bed
They're running again. It's getting hard to keep track of where they are and where they're going. Zarek keeps them moving at a fast pace, and sometimes they barely make the rendezvous with him and Elosha when they split up, which is at least half the time.
He's tired. Lee could fall asleep running, and he can't even imagine what's going on in President Roslin's head. She doesn't say anything; she wilts a little more and keeps up with him.
They need to eat. They need to sleep. They need to shower. They need a lot of things.
And Lee would never have imagined all the places one can hide on your average class-nine cargo ship, the way the hallways shrink down to nothing and he pauses behind a bulkhead because it's a good hiding place and vantage point. The guards from Galactica have almost finished their search. He watches and the president, who by now knows exactly what he means without speaking, falls in behind him and watches silently, just close enough for him to hear her breathe.
"They're gone," he says after ten minutes.
Roslin nods, and then slowly sinks to the floor with a sigh.
"Oh, wow. I need a drink," she says, looking up at him with almost a smile. Lee tries to smile back, but finds himself sitting down next to her.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
"Tired. Hungry. Dirty," she says. "No worse off than you, Apollo."
She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, elbows resting on her knees. The gesture speaks of a weariness so bone-deep that neither of them can feel it anymore. There has been no time yet to turn and make a stand. Everyone hides them without question, but no one wants to face the wrath of Galactica and Lee's father, either.
"I have half an apple from the last trader," he says, pulling the small fruit out and offering it to her. "You should eat."
"So should you," she says. He takes a bite or two, and then offers it again. This time she takes it and makes short work of their food. "I never thought I'd wish for licorice."
He chuckles. "Beggars can't be choosers," he says.
"And no rest for the wicked," she counters, opening one eye and raising an eyebrow. "Since we're speaking in cliches."
"Well, all's fair in love and...wait," Lee says. They've both heard it, and she's on her feet almost as fast as he is, making herself small and silent against the wall while he pulls out his service weapon and holds steady, ready to fire if he has to.
The captain of the Bullmaster-8 looks very surprised when he finds himself facing down the barrel of Lee's gun.
"Galactica's moved on, sir," he says as Lee puts his weapon away with an apologetic grimace. "You can stay for the night. Bunk fifteen's been cleared. If you folks are hungry, there's some rations in the galley."
He hurries away, and Laura sags again and laughs. Lee turns and puts an arm around her to help her up. But she's already trying to stand up, and so Lee finds himself in an awkward embrace with his president, not quite a kiss, but their faces are a bare inch from each other, and suddenly they are both breathing very hard.
"I'm sorry," he says, not sure of who should move. Or if he even wants to move, because right now? He can't quite figure out where else his hand would fit except the small of her back.
"Are you?" she asks, not moving, either, except for the slightest tremble that Lee can feel and covet.
"Not really, no," Lee admits.
"Good. Neither am I," Laura says as he leans closer and kisses her.
It burns. After days with substandard food, water, rest, and all the stress of worrying about his father's irrational rage and the brewing civil war, giving in to the pressing physical want of being able to touch a woman is like being set afire. And it's not just a woman -- it's touching her, too. Gods, she's hot. Physically hot, like she's got a fever, and the way her body sways and rests against his makes him incoherent with need.
He pushes her against the bulkhead, and she's so light, but she doesn't let go, doesn't do anything except twist her fingers in his hair and fall into him. It's surrender, but it's not passive, not exactly, because her mouth is pressed against his hard, willing and wanting and Lee could stay like this, but his knees are shaking like they're going to give and she can tell him she's no worse off, but they're both about to fall over, and she's not well.
He doesn't want to hurt her. Not now. Especially not now when there are so many things that he has to experience with her, right now.
"Laura," he murmurs, and she looks at him and it's incredible how much more he wants her just from the way she's looking at him with hollowed, hungry eyes. "They'll have given us a pallet, I'm sure, for the night."
She nods. Rests her head on his shoulder, and she's looped an arm around his waist for support. Asking him to take care of them, and it makes Lee want to pick her up and find a place for them to rest.
"Lee?" she asks as they limp toward the bunks like drunks. "I'll find our room. You get us whatever they're serving? And maybe a drink."
He nods, but he can't just let her go, so when she starts to pull away, he takes her in his arms again and kisses her on the forehead. She smiles at him, warm and sweet.
"I won't fall asleep on you," she whispers. "So don't take too long."
Bunk fifteen is little better than a closet, but the bed will sleep two and the door closes and locks from the inside. He hands her a plate of stew with a sourdough roll, and some halfway decent rehydrated blueberries. They eat in silence, eyelids sagging, and Lee wonders if they wouldn't be better off getting a little sleep. She's so tired that she's nearly transparent.
"I don't think I've ever been hungrier," she says when she puts her scraped-clean plate next to the door and lays back on the thin mattress, stretching out, kicking off her shoes and pulling off her thin black stocking-sock-things and throwing her arms over her head to stretch further. "Oh. That's lovely."
The smile that crosses her lips is as feral and sensuous as her half-closed eyes, and Lee forgets all about the idea of sleep. He puts his plate aside and leans over Laura, running two fingertips over her smile until she bites down on one of them and her eyes snap open to meet his look with a challenge.
Slowly, he lifts one of her hands and places a kiss in the center of her palm before his teeth graze upward until he is nibbling at each of her fingers and turning her hand over to kiss the back of her hand, the knob of her wrist, and each vein on the inside of it.
"I want to make love to you," he whispers as he pulls his hand away from hers and strokes her face, her throat, the tiny bit of exposed collarbone. Her hand reaches out and grabs at him fiercely, pulling him down so that she can kiss him again, whimpering slightly at the way his hand tangles in hers and hits the wall next to her.
Her head tilts back as he begins sucking and nibbling on her throat, her breathing heavy and encouraging, almost overwhelming when he finds a spot and swirls with his tongue that makes her groan. It's such a tiny cry, and Lee practically moans. Because of the way Laura is breathing -- frak, how bad has he had it for her? -- and he runs the meat of his thumb over her windpipe, then up to her earlobe and she whimpers, flinging her free arm against the mattress and gripping it hard.
"Gods," he breathes reverently, pulling away just long enough to shuck his shirt and start molesting all the buttons on Laura's blouse while she makes things difficult by looking at him hungrily but patiently.
Like she's waiting for him to show her just how much he wants her. Her tongue darts out at unpredictable intervals and Lee almost gets entirely distracted when he forget about buttons and leans down for another kiss, but finds himself swatted away.
"You could help," he says.
"You're doing fine," she replies with a feverish grin, her hand trailing down his shoulder and over his arm.
Finally, he gets the blasted buttons undone and scoops her up in his arms, which leads to new and exciting problems because now that she's in his lap, Laura seems to decide that kissing is just fine and starts to nibble on the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, wrapping both arms around him under his arms and scratching at his back lightly. Not that this is bad, but he wants very badly to get rid of her clothes.
"You...are...gah...incorrigible," he chides, lifting her head and finding himself rewarded with another scorching look that begs him to ease off the jacket and blouse, let it fall, let him ease down one of her bra straps with his teeth before the two of them feverishly and wantonly strip the damned thing off.
Laura doesn't talk, but Lee is finding himself harder and harder at each whimper, each half-articulated moan that tells him he's doing it right. Soon he's got her pinned to the mattress, molesting a particularly toothsome curve just above her belly button while she starts to shake and whimper, her hand gripping into his shoulder, and they're both sweat-slick and she's so hot that Lee almost suspects fever, but her eyes are luminous and urging. They say yes, yes, of course, yes, almost in time with the rise and fall of her hips.
He puts a tentative hand on the button on her trousers, and Laura moans with so much abandon that Lee finds himself pulling himself up to start kissing her mouth again, swallowing the sound as she grinds, needily, against his cock and wrapping one leg around his as her hand guides his back to the button, the zipper, and even more feverish skin as they pull everything off with a wanton pull.
"I'm losing my mind," he growls in her ear, grasping at her exposed hip. "Absolutely, totally, you are making me crazy. Say something."
"Make love to me," she says, her lips warm against his cheek. "Please."
And he thought he'd almost gone crazy before. The sound of those words wrap around his brainstem and take over. He has to. Immediately. The thought of doing anything but taking her now, hard, with her hips arching up with her back? Impossible. Her hand is on his face, just as needy and grasping as those greedy little cries he's drawing out of her with each grind of his cock against her.
He has to get his pants off. Now. And she's helping him at last, they're both undoing the fly and he cannot seem to get them past his knees and he has to stop -- gods, with her hand circling him and stroking, he can't manage to do much more than groan.
How didn't he know that he wanted her so badly? Wants to possess her so totally that it's got him unable to take his clothes off properly.
"I need to," he says, kissing her on the forehead and grimacing at the frakking evil pants caught at his ankles. She nods and lets him kick and pull until they're gone. "Sorry."
Laura puts a hand on his mouth, stilling the words with an encouraging nod. Definitely now is not the time for sorry.
He nods, pushes, is inside of her and she releases the breath she's been holding and shudders. And Lee is lost, because she feels so good, and because he realizes that Laura's been seducing him the whole time until he couldn't imagine anything other than this. The taste of sweat and skin and the faintest hint of licorice and the metal of the bars in Galactica's brig as his tongue grazes the hollow of her collarbone. The feel of her around his cock, sweet and hot, gods, she's on fire, he keeps saying that but it's true.
She should be delicate, but she's not, exactly. Soft, yes, and light in his arms, but for all the surrender, her eyes are shining fiercely, and there's nothing but passion and need in the way she's moving against him, matching his thrusts with ones of her own. He slams into her, deeper, harder, and she cries out with raw desire, and it's like a drug and he thrusts again, faster and harder.
Because she likes it, likes the way he's fucking her, and Laura is his, all his and only his, and she's making him crazy, the way she's whimpering, moaning, starting to cry out again. Lee can't stop touching her, even as she reaches out, grabs him, and guides him between their bodies, showing him how to touch her there until she lets go and digs her nails into his shoulder blade, face flushed.
His, always his, with no ghosts hiding in her eyes, no private disappointment in the keening sounds humming into his neck as she tries hard not to bring the whole crew running even though each cry gets louder, closer to a scream. He is her Captain Apollo, and he wants to promise her that he'll protect her, that he loves her and they can save the world together.
"Lee," Laura cries out, tightening and shuddering as she comes, drawing blood with her fingernails, and at the sound of her voice, Lee knows that it's only half-true. She is his, but he is hers. Wholly and completely, because if all he can do is please her so she will cry out his name, he will count himself lucky.
He speeds his pace, thinking to bring her with him again, but it's late and the tiredness that adrenaline and sex have warded off is hovering and he has to settle for calling her name as he finishes, her kisses sweaty and sweet on his jaw, on his mouth, against his throat.
"Oh," Laura says, a yawn sneaking its way out of her throat as she gives him a smile. "Is it horrible that I'm too tired to say anything?"
Lee wants to say something, maybe I love you, but he yawns, too, realizing that he's about to pass out in mid-sentence. Instead he reaches over and grabs the one sheet that the Bullmaster-8 has so graciously appointed them.
"We should sleep," he says, and her eyes are already closing as he settles the sheet over them.
"Mmm," she agrees, gratefully shifting to her side and tucking part of the sheet around her. She doesn't say anything else, but neither does she push Lee away when he settles next to her and puts one arm around her.
They should be talking about this, but he's so tired. They shouldn't be seen like this, curled next to each other, but Lee can't make himself wake up enough to care. Can't keep his eyes open, and she is all radiant heat and quiet, and he's drawn in again.
He is asleep before he can have another thought about what he meant to think.