 | ShatterStorm Productions
|
| ShatterStorm Productions
|
Deanna leaned back against the inner wall of the shuttlecraft, sighed heavily. These arbitration missions were the worst. And when they went like this one, she began to feel that Starfleet and the UFP thought of her as little more than a living tricorder.
"How are you feeling, Deanna?"
"I've been better," she replied, rubbing the back of her neck. So much conflict always gave her a headache, just at the base of her skull.
"Here, let me." And strong hands pulled her around before beginning to massage her stiff muscles.
Deanna sat there, gratefully taking the affectionately unmerciful manipulation of her sore, stiff muscles. She let her head fall forward, her eyes closed, inhaling deeply, trying to center to help rid herself of the painful throbbing in the back of her head. Even as those strong hands reached around to cup her full breasts, she continued her centering, leaning back against the firm chest behind her. Warm lips trailed moist kisses along the side of her throat to nibble at her earlobe. And the hands slid into the front of her outfit -- she'd been instructed not to wear her duty uniform for these arbitrations -- her nipples straining for the fingers grazing across them. "Jean-Luc," she sighed, the sound coming from deep within her.
"Oui, ma belle?" he whispered hotly in her ear, then stabbed his tongue into that same little hollow.
"Can we do this? Do we have the time?" She struggled with the conflicting emotions of desire and propriety coursing through her.
"The shuttle's on auto-pilot, and we're not to rendezvous with the Enterprise for another four hours at least. We have the time, mon amour, if you wish."
"Oh, by the four deities, I do," she moaned, turning to face him, their tongues hotly colliding. They quickly shed off their clothes, hungry for the touch of each other's body. It had been too long; long enough, in fact, that they both felt it was the first time again.
Jean-Luc sat on the bunk, leaning against the wall, in just the spot Deanna had been only a moment ago. Deanna faced him, straddled his lap, his erection jutting up against her belly, and sighed as his mouth found her aching, painfully tender nipple. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding his head to her chest, and tilted her face down to lewdly lick the top of his bare head. She felt his cock stiffen and throb in response to the attention of her tongue on his other head, then felt her own response, her juices beginning to seep out and onto his thighs.
"Forgive me, cherie, but I cannot wait," he groaned as he pulled her onto his erection. He slid into her so perfectly, like they were meant to fit together in this most primal of puzzles, and began thrusting upward, trying to bury himself even further in her exquisitely snug cunt. And Deanna let him, even helped him by pushing herself down into his lap, all the while tightening her well-trained love muscles around him. And, as usually happened the first time after they'd been apart for a while, the Frenchman quickly came, unable to hold back, spurting his cum up deep into her womb. And, predictably, this triggered Deanna's own climax, sending her into shuddering spasms on top of her captain-lover.
As they slowly made their way down from their rapidly reached pinnacle, they just held each other, whispering softly to reassure each other that everything was all right. Deanna leaned her head on his shoulder, nestling into the crook of his neck, and sighed contentedly. Jean-Luc simply held her close, revelling in their nearness. He knew she fell asleep almost instantly, as he softened inside her, and fell asleep himself.
Jean-Luc awoke some time later to the delightful sensations of his Ship's Counselor deep-throating his very turgid erection. But this time, he knew he could control himself. Let her work for it this time, he thought to himself. As if in response, Deanna raked her teeth along the length of his shaft, expertly hitting all the sensitive areas. It took every ounce of his willpower not to come right then and there. He ran his hands through her long raven tresses, stroking her head and back until his release could no longer be avoided. He coiled his fingers in her hair, held her head still, and began rapidly thrusting up into her mouth. But, just as he was about to come, he pulled her head back and watched as his cum spattered her beautiful face. He stared, enraptured, as she massaged the milky fluid into her face and breasts, her eyes boring into him, her erotically, alienly musky scent pervading the small shuttlecraft.
His eyes nearly popped out of his skull as she leaned back, her legs spread, and guided his foot to her pussy. She trailed his toes along the length of her wetness, then sighed as he took over and slid his big toe into her steamy slit. She undulated her hips sensually, in time with the thrusts of his foot.
Then, suddenly, she pushed his foot away, knelt in front of him again. She placed feathery kisses along both of his inner thighs, watching his manhood grow again, then gazed up at him, the picture of angelic innocence. "Jean-Luc, will you do something for me? No questions asked?" He nodded. "Promise?" He nodded again, but didn't expect the words that came out of her mouth. "Tell Beverly about us."
His cock deflated almost instantly. Those were definitely not the words he was hoping for. "Why?"
"No questions asked, Jean-Luc, you promised."
"Yes, but that was when I was expecting you to ask me to grant some sexual fantasy of yours. This is -- this is different."
"Why?"
"It just is." He tried to get her to sit next to him on the bunk, but she wouldn't budge. "Besides, why now? We've been just fine so far. Why ruin what we have by telling her?"
"You can't even say her name, can you?" No reply. "That's why. I've been your mistress, for lack of a better word, for the better part of six years now, ever since Beverly left to go to Starfleet Medical. It's one thing to hide it from the crew and from Starfleet Command, because of the protocol demanded of people in our positions. But from our friends, who can tell when something is even slightly out of the ordinary?"
"Does Will know?"
"Yes, he does. He's known for a couple of years now. It doesn't bother him, and he isn't the slightest bit jealous either. In fact, as long as it doesn't impair our working relationships in any way, he's happy for me, for us."
"I'm not so sure Beverly would be so understanding, Deanna. I mean, there's so much history between us."
"And neither one of you has tried to do anything about it, have you?" No reply again. "Don't you think it would better if you told her, broke it to her gently, than to have her find out from something else?"
"I suppose so. But--"
"No but's, Jean-Luc. I don't want to hide this any longer, Jean -Luc, I can't. You have to tell her, or I will," she said, then added softly to herself, "I won't lose this like I did the others."
"What was that?" he asked, staring at her.
"I don't want to play these games anymore, Jean-Luc."
"No, that's not what you said. You said you don't want to lose this like the others. What's that supposed to mean?" Now it was Deanna's turn not to reply, she even turned away from his gaze. He grabbed her chin, forced her to look at him again. "What does that mean, Deanna?"
She stared up at him for a long moment, tears filling her eyes, before she whispered, "I'm pregnant, Jean-Luc."
"What?"
"I'm pregnant," she repeated, "with your child."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded slowly. "I had it confirmed yesterday by one of the medics on the planet. No one else knows yet."
"How--? How far along are you?"
"Nearly three and a half months. And I plan to have this baby, Jean-Luc, I won't do what I did before."
"What do you mean, before?"
"This is the fourth child we've conceived together."
"But, I never knew...."
"I miscarried the first baby, the other two I 'conveniently' lost," she admitted guiltily.
"You...aborted them?"
"I had no other choice. Neither of us were ready to make our relationship publicly known. I don't know that we are now, but I cannot put myself through that pain again, Jean-Luc. You have no idea the kind of hell I went through all three times, not being able to talk to anyone, not even my best friend...or you," she said, turning dark eyes on him again. "I want this baby, Jean-Luc, I need to have this baby, whether you want it or not."
Suddenly, the shuttle lurched wildly, sending Deanna into the wall behind her. She struck her head, then lost consciousness.
"Deanna? Deanna, can you hear me?"
"Jean-Luc," she murmured, coming up out of the hazy fog of unconscious.
"Honey, it's Will. Do you know where you are?"
"What?" she asked, trying to sit up, but the nausea forced her back down, threatening to make her lose the contents of her queasy stomach if she tried to get up again. "Where am I? What happened?"
"What do you remember?"
Deanna fought through the haze, trying to grasp at stray memories. "We were returning from the arbitrational hearings at the peace conference. It was rough on me, and I had a headache. Jea--Captain Picard started massaging my shoulders, to help me relieve the tension.... I don't remember anything after that, until now."
"The Romulans attacked your shuttle as you and Captain Picard were still in the Neutral Zone. You got hurt and lost consciousness, and the captain managed to get into Federation space before he had to crash- land the shuttle. He sent out a distress beacon and we got here as soon as we could." Then, Riker paused, seemed reluctant to speak. "Deanna, what happened to you? The captain said you kept murmuring something about a baby, that you didn't want to lose another baby. Is something wrong? Are you --pregnant?"
"No, Will, I'm not pregnant, not that I know of." It came out softly, remorsefully. "Um, how long was I unconscious?"
"Almost three and a half hours."
"Then, it was all a dream?" she asked, almost wistfully. Will nodded.
"Beverly said she wants to have a long talk with the senior staff, and especially with you and the captain when we get back aboard the Enterprise. Something about repressing feelings and keeping secrests from each other. And I think you and I need to have along talk as well, Deanna. We have some unfinished business to deal with, concerning our past."
Deanna nodded slowly, still trying to make sense of everything. A shadow crossed her field of vision. She looked up to see a worried Jean-Luc Picard standing there.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, watching her with a look of loving concern in his eyes.
"I'll be fine, sir," she managed to get out, trying to determine if that look was real or imagined.
"Good. I wouldn't want to see you hurt in any way, cherie," he said, then quickly left. As unconsciousness claimed her again, Deanna wasn't even sure if he'd actually spoken the term of endearment or not. But the real question wasn't whether he did or not, but would she ever have the courage to find out?
