Lessons for the Superintelligent
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Spoilers: S3 spec off 10/7 promo
Disclaimer: Moore’s the man with the master plan.
Summary: Genius needs an audience.
Really, it was all quite ridiculous. It had been bad enough being a puppet president on New Caprica, but being a pampered guest and suspected Cylon on a basestar was absolute madness.
Not to mention all the other oddities of late.
Really, ridiculous was the only word for it, including the current argument with the Three.
“I’m not a Cylon!” Baltar shouted. “There’s a great deal I don’t know, but I am fairly certain that I am not a Cylon.”
“Are you sure?” D’Anna asked, snorting and walking away.
“I’m frakking well sure!” he shrieked, pounding his fist against the wall.
“Frak is the only word in our language that’s an infix, did you know that?” Laura Roslin asked out of the blue.
She’d picked up a rather vexing habit of appearing out of the clear blue sky, looking ready for a tumble, and toying with Gaius’s mind. He wasn’t sure how she managed, but she seemed real enough for his tastes.
This time she was wearing her glasses, a skirt that was knee-length but rather too tight, her best high heels, and a blouse that was conservative but that it was unbuttoned almost to her cleavage.
“Unfrakkingbelievable,” Gaius said. “I’m debating my the very nature of my existence, and you’re telling me about pedantic grammar concepts?”
Laura smiled wickedly, holding a polished wooden pointer and sitting on the edge of her desk with an inviting aloof grace.
“But you absolutely passed the first test, Doctor,” she practically purred. “You correctly used an infix in a complete sentence.”
“Yes, well,” and Baltar couldn’t believe that he was half-hard over grammar, “I am a genius.”
Laura tapped her pointer against her skirt, and Gaius found his mouth dry at the sight. “Oh, of course you are,” she said, smiling. “You’re a very bright young man.”
“Are you condescending to me, Laura?” Baltar asked, moving into her space.
“Mmm,” she said, eyes sparkling as she tapped her pointer against her other hand. There was a slight flush to her face. “I’m encouraging you, Gaius.”
He seized her by the hips, pulling her off the desk and toward him. Laura gasped, but her pointer slapped against his thigh before he could get any further.
“Young man, we do not manhandle our teachers,” she growled, her teeth grazing her lower lip deliciously. Baltar, feeling reckless, palmed her throat to feel her pulse, the slight catch of breath as she gazed on him impassively. “What do I have to do to get through to you, Doctor Baltar?”
“Oh, you’ve quite gotten through to me, Laura,” Baltar murmured into her ear. “But as you say, I’m a very bright young man, and I know how to apply my lessons to a battlefield situation.”
His fingers found their way to the buttons on her blouse, unbuttoning them one by one where another man might rip them asunder. Laura watched him with her cool-as-ice smile, chest rising and falling as a little black bra played peekaboo with him.
“Waste not,” he said, tracing his finger over her exposed skin. “There’s a war on, you know.”
“Oh, I see. You’re being prudent,” Laura said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t want to fail a test because I was in haste to finish,” Baltar replied, pressing his mouth against Laura’s collarbone.
Her knees parted in response, and Baltar attempted to squeeze between them, but the damnable skirt, though attractive, was rather tight.
“Trouble, Doctor?” Laura asked, the smirk in her voice and her arms sitting atop his shoulders. She wasn’t unresponsive, but neither would she help him. Baltar understood the game, the test she was setting him. Six had practically done all the work for him, and he’d gotten lazy.
With Laura, he would have to prove himself over and over. He wanted to. Every time he won, she came a little closer to breaking, to begging, to all those nasty little things he wanted from her.
So Gaius smiled at his new fancy. “Do you mind if I do a little sartorial damage, my dear teacher?” he inquired dryly.
“Tear the skirt, Doctor,” Laura replied, arching her neck. “I have no time for circumlocution today.”
He tore it, and those lovely legs of hers circled his waist, pulling her down against Gaius’s rather painfully hard cock.
“All this pent-up repression,” he said, biting down on her earlobe. “It’s not good for people like us.”
“Like us, hmm?” Laura asked, not resisting as Gaius pushed them back against a wall, the sound of her head thumping against the solid material a goad and a delight for him.
“Yes,” he hissed, untangling her legs long enough to get his trousers down about his ankles and to fetch up against her again. “Powerful people. Leaders. Brilliant minds.”
He kissed her then, a long, searing kiss that forced a response from Laura — a moan as her tongue fumbled against his, her hand in his hair, the way her hips moved up, begging for him to finally do it.
“Is that why you love me?” she asked, her breathing ragged in his ear.
“Love you?” Baltar asked, stopped short. “Who said anything about…love? Are you quite mad?”
“Oh, Gaius,” she whispered, kissing his jaw. “The truth is rather ugly, isn’t it? That’s why you’re always running from it.”
Gobsmacked and angry, Gaius pushed Laura into the wall harder, enjoying the way her head hit, his hand fumbling between her legs, direct and as cruel as he could manage to get the proof he knew awaited him.
“Lesson the next,” he snarled. “I think you pretend at this distance, at this detachment, but that you like the feel of very real, very immanent pain. That you enjoy my presence because beneath the lovely, warm, absolutely wonderful woman they all love so much is something cold, brilliant, and terrifying.”
His hand caught her wrist, shoving her up before finally thrusting inside of her.
“Do I feel cold to you, Gaius?” Laura asked softly.
“You feel like someone who wants very badly to be frakked by a man you know to be a traitor thrice-over,” Gaius said. “Because every genius wants an audience, darling teacher.”
She felt good, and every so often, she made noise, like little whimpers torn from that imperial reserve. Gaius knew that Laura thought he was scum, absolute scum, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Genius needed an audience, and he was the only one who could understand how good she was. What kind of desires lurked under that kind little face.
“And here I am,” she answered, biting at his neck. “Show me how good you are, Doctor. You consider yourself a genius, so make me scream for it.”
He pinned her wrists to the wall, laughing at how she trembled despite herself, driving himself as deep as he could into her willing body.
“You’ve always wanted this,” Gaius snarled. “Tell me you want me.”
“I’ve always wanted you, Gaius,” Laura said, sweet and bemused and totally false.
“Liar,” he said, knowing how close he was, knowing that she wasn’t, hating that the victory would be bringing her over, making her scream and plead for more.
“And bad at it,” she agreed, twisting in a way that when combined with a sudden love bite, sent Baltar spilling over the edge with a shout. “Until next time, Doctor. I suppose you still need to study your lessons, after all.”
And like that, she was gone, leaving Baltar with open pants, a sticky hand, and a Six looking at him.
“I don’t even want to know,” she said, sounding disgusted.
“No, darling, you really don’t,” Baltar agreed, his come-covered hand even more embarrassing when he realized that he had every intention of seducing the Six later.
To practice for a fantasy.
Really, it was all too ridiculous.