Work Text:
1
He stopped going to the gym because of her.
Early after the initial attacks he saw her there, she was lifting barbells with her back arrow straight, her taught and tempting ass pushed out, and her chest heaving with the downward thrust to work on her triceps. That was when it really started, when his attraction to her became too acute in his body to be ignored. He felt primal. Before then he couldn't have told you when the last time he thought about sex was. After that fateful day it was always in his periphery.
He spent too much time trying to keep his thoughts in check when she was around. But even he couldn't stop his mind from going back to images of her out of her presidential armor, slick with sweat from exertion. After much effort he was able to isolate memories of her long legs as she did squats, or the purse of her lips as she breathed in concert with each of her reps. He assigned them to an anonymous woman who it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest to have a physical relationship with.
Not that he wanted one of course.
He thought her to be insufferable, glib, and entitled: an overblown bureaucrat from the horribly inept Adar administration. Damn woman was certain to frak things up for them all. Except suddenly he wasn’t so sure which was stronger: her ability to frak with his fleet, or his desire to frak her.
2
Good to see her indeed. She was so beautiful outside in the natural light. The humid air and rain from Kobol made her hair brighter and her skin more luminous somehow. Watching her ass climb up the ravine to get to the temple in that pair of jeans did nothing but reawaken his physical fascination with her. He traipsed behind her as they climbed, watching her cancer-riddled body work. He would have never guessed that the perfectly curved figure he so admired was fighting a war from the inside. And the fact that she was able to fight against the Cylons as well? He was so impressed by her fortitude that his thoughts transcended sexual attraction and went straight to his heartstrings.
Sentimental old fool.
Just then she stumbled a bit, and his hands reached out to steady her, one firmly planted on her hip, the other on her shoulder. She smiled in thanks and continued on after righting herself. A younger man would have had to readjust himself to hide such admiration for her assets. But discipline was a big part of his life for the last forty years or so, thus The Old Man was able to store the images and tactile memories for later use. It was certain that they would be attached to the woman who inspired them.
3
After their return from Kobol, every look she gave him either in anger or in solidarity, bore into his skin and eroded his strength to resist her. It was a losing battle that ultimately ended in stalemate as she lost the election and settled on New Caprica. He used those images of her Sweating in the gym or hiking on Kobol fuel his fantasies. No longer a faceless muse, it was clearly Laura. Her auburn waves, her clear green eyes, her beautifully crooked smile. He hoped she was happy down there on that rock. She deserved to be.
Weeks would go by without seeing her. Their foray into toking it up had not yielded the results he carnally desired. After all, he was in his sixth decade. A long day of drinking and drugging couldn’t possibly end with sex. But it did end with her in his arms, and for that he was grateful.
He visited once more by invitation. She needed help building a school. And since The Admiral still had some pull with his settled Galactica crew, he not only showed up, but had the whole structure set and build beyond even his own expectations within a matter of hours. But Laura Roslin proved to be no wallflower. She had a hammer in her hand worked until she was breathless and sweating from the labor. It was like before, when she was exercising or hiking, but this time she was basked in the glow of new possibilities. She was, possibly, free of all her burdens. Her body language reflected this. She was smiling from the inside out, her love for her people and her new work coming out of her in waves. He worked next to her, instructing her on each tool and how best to construct a solid foundation. He tried not to flirt, but she was not so subtle in her demeanor. She wanted him. But what she wanted more was to finish and set up her school. And that made her even more attractive. He thought to himself: next time.
Then the Cylons came back.
4
Earth was a failure. And he was all but banned form touching her. Her pain was so deep that he felt it, more so than his own. But they needed her. She saved them on more occasions that anyone. And it was time for her to man up.
He got to her quarters and heard signs and moans coming from the other side of the hatch. His thoughts turned to jealousy over what (or who) could cause her to emit such sounds. He announced himself and entered, just as she would into his quarters, perfectly prepared to see the worst. Instead he found her bent over. Ass in the air and hands flat on the ground. She was shifting her weight between her long legs. Her body completely covered in Galactica: The Museum’s most unattractive leftover souvenir sweatshirt.
Calisthenics. Damn her. That was the last thing they needed. She needed to resume her presidency, and he need to…not be distracted by her still succulent looking body. Even bald and frail from Diloxin couldn’t detract him from her feminine wiles.
A few hours later and he mused on her statement of needing a little time when his com rang. Frak all if she wasn’t doing this just to defy him. Enough was enough. She stopped in her tracks at his chest. They argued. He acquiesced. She was (of course) right, she deserved to be Laura, not the Quorum puppet master, not the heroine of Pythian prophecy. Just. Laura.
5
He spent the walk back from his shift in CIC thinking about inviting her over for a late dinner. When he opened the hatch, she was already there, tracking miles in his carpet.
“Look, I’m sorry I was maybe too forward today. I’m tired of…”
No. She struggled enough already. Cancer. New Caprica. Cancer (again). Earth. He wasn’t about to contribute to her strife. So he cut her off with a kiss. A real kiss. Not a press of lip to lip, but a full contact, sucker-punch of a kiss. He was right, Laura was a fighter.
She fought with pulling him close and pushing him far enough away to paw his uniform off. But like every argument they had ever endured, they were able to come to a mutually beneficial truce. Clothes discarded, breathless from kissing and anticipation, they stumbled to his rack. He mapped her body with his rough fingertips and mouth. He tried to go slowly, but he wanted her too badly. She pulled on his hips and without preamble he was sheathed inside of her. The first few strokes were spent working out the perfect angle to fit together. And then they did, spectacularly.
Finally. Finally he was a part of her. Inside of her. Loving her in the best ways he knew how. With little kisses and gentle caresses and the slide of his manhood into her blissful warmth. Gods she was good. Already the best frak of his life. And they were just getting started.
She pushed him off of her and rolled them over, slippery hands fumbling over heated skin. When she settled on him and started to ride, her hands caressing his chest, all he could think of was how beautiful she looked covered in their sweat.