Captain Jean-Luc Picard entered his silent quarters. He shrugged out of his uniform jacket and folded it over a chair with a sigh. After a full day of talks the negotiations with the Qualian delegation seemed to have reached an impasse, and his call for a brief break for both sides to refresh and regroup had met with more enthusiasm than anything else he'd said the entire afternoon.
"Beverly?" he called, running a hand across the back of his neck as his stomach began to growl, "I'm sorry, I only have half an hour for dinner. I have to return to the Qualian negotiations at 2030 hours."
He started towards the replicator, then stopped in his tracks as a warm, sultry voice replied, "Then how about skipping dinner and going straight to dessert?"
Jean-Luc's eyes were drawn to the bedroom as if by a magnet. Beverly Crusher stood in the doorway with her arms raised enticingly above her head. She was wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties, neither of which left much to the imagination. The flawless perfection of her porcelain skin gleamed in the starlight and her long dancers legs were lean and toned. The tantalizing sight stole the breath from his lungs.
She never failed to affect him that way, no matter the time of day or night.
He cast a quick glance in the direction of the replicator and walked towards his wife. "What's on the menu?" he asked, his voice soft as his hands brushed the filmy fabric at her waist before slowly sliding up the smooth skin of her abdomen to press the material over her full breasts.
She shivered at his gentle touch. "Me," she whispered, a bit breathily, her voice catching as his thumbs found her nipples and began a tender massage.
"My favorite," he replied, desire darkening his eyes. His hands continued to caress her breasts as his mouth trailed kisses down her neck.
It was time he was wearing less, Beverly decided. Pulling his uniform top up and over his head, she tossed it aside and walked them back towards the bed, one hand brushing the front of his trousers. She flashed him a saucy smile as she slid them down over his hips and replaced them with her warm palms.
He gave a slight moan at the contact and quickly divested her of her lacy garments. Noting with satisfaction that her panties were already wet.
Beverly pushed him down onto the bed, straddled his hips, and pressed forward hungrily.
They made love unhurriedly but with purpose, mouths and hands tracing long familiar paths as they took full advantage of their limited time together.
Afterward they lay entwined, pausing for a moment to catch their breath. Jean-Luc brushed his fingers lightly through the strands of auburn hair that cascaded like a nova across his chest. He contemplated inquiring at the time, but was loath to disrupt their content mood despite feeling his ingrained sense of duty awaken from its brief dormancy.
As if reading his mind – as she so often seemed to do – Beverly lifted her head from where it lay pillowed on his shoulder and said softly, "Computer, time."
"Twenty sixteen hours," the disembodied voice replied.
Beverly pressed a kiss to her husband's chest before rolling off him and grabbing a robe. "Stay there," she bade sternly as she padded into the living area.
She returned less than a minute later balancing a plate of tapas and a cup of tea in her hands. "Dinner in bed," she announced with a playful grin.
They sat on the bed together in companionable silence, quickly polishing off the plate of fresh ham, sausage, cheese and olives.
When the plate was empty and his teacup drained, Jean-Luc sighed. "Computer, time."
"Twenty twenty four hours."
His eyes met Beverly's. She smiled in resignation.
Jean-Luc slipped out of bed and into the sonic shower, emerging a moment later to find his wife proffering a newly replicated uniform. He dressed with rapid, economical movements, then strode into the living area to don his jacket, pips gleaming in the low light.
Beverly followed. "Feeling better?" she enquired sweetly.
He nodded. "Fully refreshed." The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. "You know, I don't believe this prescription for rest and recovery appears in Starfleet's diplomatic protocols."
Her grin broadened. "It should."
"Agreed." He leaned in and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and thoroughly.
Beverly swayed towards him, already feeling the heat once more coiling in her core. What being with this man could do to her – and so quickly, too, even after all the time they'd been together. She drew back with an obvious effort of will. "Go back to work, Captain," she commanded softly, taking a step away so she wouldn't be tempted to kiss him again.
"Yes, sir," Jean-Luc grinned in reply.
He headed out the door with a minute to spare. As he did so he took a brief moment to school his features back into a suitably stern and impassive expression. It wouldn't do for the crew to see their captain looking so transcendently happy.
No, it wouldn't do at all.
FIN