Fluffy imzadi wedding!fic.
"Did you always know we'd end up together?" he asks thoughtfully. He's playing with a tendril of her hair, long out of its artful style, twisting it round his finger absently.
They're sprawled naked on their bed, skin tingling from their most recent episode of lovemaking, engaged in the charmingly inane pillow talk reserved for these situations. The reception's still going on without them, but they beamed up to their quarters some time ago, leaving strict instructions not to be disturbed under any circumstances short of life-threatening.
The lovely pink satin creation she'd been so careful to not crease throughout the reception is lying in a careless pile on the floor, Will's dress uniform crumpled on top in his haste to remove it.
"How much champagne did you have, anyway?" Her smile is teasing, and maybe she's right - he is a little drunk, but his sentimental mood has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the fact it's their wedding day.
When he looks at her, he can't believe that he's actually married this woman, the vows they exchanged this afternoon having already faded into a haze of champagne and laughter and the thrill of just being with her.
I'm serious, Deanna.
Will runs his eyes over her naked form, stretched out languidly on the sheets, and maybe he is leering a little, but he's her husband now and surely that entitles him to a certain amount of leering privileges. Concentrating slightly, he extends that thought into her mind, and she laughs, shakes her head at him.
You're hopeless.
And you're beautiful. He moves the hand that's splayed out over her collarbone, trails a fingertip down between her breasts and back up again, just to watch her lips part and her soft sigh, to feel how much she loves and wants every part of him, wants him to keep doing that…
"Mmm, Will…" Deanna's eyes snap open, and his hand stills. "Did you always know?"
The question is soft, and her eyes are shining even if her tone feigns nonchalance. He knew she'd turn the question around, and somehow, he knows that he asked her because he wanted to tell her.
"Yes." It's a simple truth, something he might have been embarrassed to admit years ago, but Deanna's happiness has always mattered more than his pride, and never more so than now. With her, he has always aspired to be more than he is. He opens his mind to her, lets her feel every implication of that thought.
Oh, Will. There's a sudden dampness at the corner of her eyes, and maybe he'd tease her about that if it wasn't their wedding day, but he can't bring himself to care. His thumb brushes away the tears, and he lowers his mouth to hers in a tender kiss.
"And yet it took me sixteen years to do this."
"We've talked about this before. We weren't ready. And now we are, and more importantly, we're both ready to move on with our lives." There's a prickle of sadness that seeps from her mind to his, but she pulls away, not wanting to spoil the moment or make him think that today is anything but the happiest day of her life. He knows what she means, and while he feels it too – that today marks the demarcation of their previous lives and their future together – it isn't the moment for such thoughts. The only future he sees right now is her, the soft skin under his hands and the intoxicating notion that they have all night together.
He slides his palm over her stomach, traces the curves of her hips before his hand slips lower, making teasing circles right above where she needs him. At the same time, she feels the touch of his mind, and there's the familiar warmth and tenderness that's Will, but also a hint of something possessive and primal that makes her shiver.
"Maybe we were," he says softly. "We were just too afraid to admit it to ourselves."
"What's come over you? I've never known you to be so…introspective. Especially not in bed." There's a trace of amusement in Deanna's eyes, but she's serious, and he knows it.
Will props himself up on an elbow, continues tracing random patterns on her hip with his other hand before he answers.
"Nothing. I guess it's – well, if I'd known how great it feels to be married to you, I probably would have proposed years ago."
"Very smooth, Will." She smiles, covers her hand with his own and feels the burst of pride in his mind as the metal bands on their fingers touch, because today, he is hers, and she is his. That idea might be antiquated and outdated, a remnant of an ancient tradition, but it's a giddy, delightful notion to think that they belong to each other.
"I'd always thought that about myself." He flashes his trademark grin at her; she can't find his cheerful arrogance anything but adorable, and he damn well knows it, too (that said, it does get him into trouble sometimes, and though you might not know it to look at her, Deanna has one hell of a temper).
Her smile is indulgent, and he's reminded of how forgiving she always was of his tendency to have a wandering eye on the Enterprise. His enthusiasm for seeking out all manner of pleasurable company never bothered her – after all, her bed was never empty if she didn't want it to be – and he appreciates that more than she knows.
"Well, I do remember you telling me when we met of my many shortcomings." He smiles, a far-away look in his eyes as he remembers the earnest young woman he met all those years ago. "What was it – the 'transient' nature of my personality?"
Deanna laughs as she senses the images in his mind, and it turns breathless when he strokes a finger along the inside of her thigh.
"Perhaps I was a little harsh."
"Nah. I was an ass." Will's grin is determined as he leans in to kiss her neck, his beard tickling her. "Arrogant, thinking I could make the world do what I wanted."
She bites her lip to stifle her moan. "Still are."
"Ouch." He raises an eyebrow, leans in to place a kiss between her breasts that makes her sigh. "Would you like me to stop, then?"
She glares at him, and he smiles innocently. "Will."
He pauses, breathing out over a tight nipple before taking it into his mouth and biting down carefully. A shock of cool pleasure burns in his mind, and it's all Deanna, her desire almost tangible in his mind, a ripple of pure want that makes his cock pulse where it's pressed into her thigh.
Will's silent laughter echoes in her head as he licks around her other breast, rests his hands on her thighs and slowly pushes them apart. She moans quietly, her impatience pushing at his thoughts.
Good things come to those who wait.
He's infuriatingly calm. It's a game they often play, where he wants her to beg, and she's always determined not to. But she's not in the mood for kidding around today, doesn't care if he knows how much she wants him, because he's her husband now, and that means everything, even if it's just a formality.
Imzadi! Please. I need you.
Will stifles a laugh against her neck at her irritated tone, presses a light kiss to her collarbone that makes her squirm. He could do this for hours – and sometimes does – and just wrap himself in the pleasure in her mind. To know that he does this to her is the best feeling in the galaxy, and he loves to tease her, but it's her day, and he doesn't quite have the heart to.
His mouth writes a wet trail between her breasts, across the planes of her stomach and lower still, laying a teasing bite on the line of her hip. There's the touch of gentle fingers opening her for him, and then the wet and warmth of his tongue surrounds her clit. It's expected, but so overwhelmingly erotic – mmm, you taste great, is his sudden thought – that she shudders, arches against his mouth.
"Oh God, Will, that feels so – "
– good. I know. I can feel you. She reaches for his hand, links their fingers in a way that's almost more intimate than what he's doing to her right now.
He takes a slow, deliberate lick of her, and the pressure is perfect, not too hard or too soft, because it's Will, and he knows what she likes better than anyone ever has. She moans quietly, squeezes his fingers so his wedding band digs into her hand; he can tell she loves the new way that feels.
I love you, imzadi. It's a trembling whisper in his mind, wrought with desperation and her need to feel him like this, to sink into the feeling of slow circles of his tongue, soft licks and presses to her clit that render her incapable of speech.
I've always loved you. Always. The honest words fall from his mind unbidden, and in any other situation he would even laugh at himself for being so earnest, but oh, it's so true, and there's nothing more he wants than to do this to her, feel the tendrils of heat she's wrapping around his mind and lose himself in her pleasure.
Two fingers slide into the wet heat of her, and she cries out, because it feels so good, and he's pressing them right where she wants him – there, oh please, oh – with a smile against her that burns bright in her mind. His tongue makes circles around her clit, settling into a steady rhythm that builds like fire under her skin. He lets go of her fingers, grips her thigh to keep her still even as she tries to push against him, and keeps going with that maddening rhythm that's perfect but not quite enough, and he knows it.
"Will, I'm…"
He twists the fingers inside her, presses his tongue against her clit, and she breaks. She's falling, and he's right there with her every second, doesn't let up the rhythm at all, just keeps moving gentle fingers inside her and licking at her softly. When she thinks no, so good, I can't and the sensation's almost too much, he licks hard at her clit and she comes again, her voice choked with a soft scream. To give to her like this has always been incredible, because he feels every moment of her pleasure, and could easily have come just from this, if he hadn't had years of practice.
Deanna laughs shakily, strokes his hair as he moves his head to rest it on her thigh, then slides up her body, laying kisses on tingling skin as he goes. Her hands wind round his neck, bring his lips to hers to kiss him gently.
She's breathing heavily, and still trembling, so he doesn't expect to feel the pressure of her hand on his chest as she deftly flips him on to his back. She shoves him down on to the mattress, straddles his thighs with a devilish look in her eyes. He's always loved Deanna like this, the playful and sensual creature that she can be, like now, when she's naked and flushed and looking utterly ravishing.
"You look amazing," he breathes. He's already told her the same about a hundred times already today, but he can't stop himself from saying it. "I'm not sure how I feel about having to share you naked with the rest of our friends at the ceremony on Betazed."
"I'm sure the Captain will be able to control himself." Her smirk echoes the amusement in her mind.
"I wouldn't count on it, imzadi. You're extremely tempting. In fact, I find it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else when you're naked."
"Hmm. If you need a distraction, you could always think about the Captain naked."
Will frowns. "Not funny." And no, that's definitely not something he wants to think about, now or ever. He's distracted – thankfully not by that disturbing image – by a spark of wicked intent in Deanna's mind that makes his breath catch.
She smothers a laugh against his chest and slides down his body, never taking her eyes off him. Her lips brush his stomach, cross the planes of his hipbones, finding every sensitive place that makes him twitch and reach down to rest hands on her shoulders, trying to find some purchase.
He's breathless with anticipation, because Deanna is very good at this – always has been – and when her lips close over his cock, he groans at the wet, tight feel of him in her mouth. Her tongue flicks over the head, lingering over every place he wants her to, oh God, right there, yeah. He can feel her reaching further into his mind, enraptured by his every response, enjoying the carnal power she has over him, and it's erotic in a way that makes him buck against her, groan her name.
"Oh God, Deanna." His voice is rough, and his fingers tighten on her shoulders. She licks along the length of him, careful and teasing in a way only she can be, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and how far to push him.
"Fuck, that's so good," he rasps, unable to stop his hips thrusting against her mouth, "sorry, oh, I…Deanna, can't…" He's rambling incoherently, and when she hums against him with obvious pleasure, adding another layer of sensation, it's all he can do not to come there and then.
Fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh, holding him there, and he can feel her encouraging him with a light mental caress to stay still as long as he can. There's a satisfied smile in her mind, with a mischievous edge to it; she knows he'll obey her wordlessly because he trusts her and loves her that much. He's shaking, every part of him tense and trembling, and it's all he can do not to thrust up into her mouth and -
– oh God, she's taking him deeper, so much deeper, right down to the base, and he's gasping, because it's too good – if he didn't think he could love her more than he does now, he was wrong – and he's about to…
She moves a little faster, tongue swirling full over the length of him each time she dips her head, and he has to close his eyes, squeeze the fingers resting on her shoulders because watching her do this is too much. Without warning, she sinks deeper into his mind, finds that place where his control is fraying and pushes at it; he comes hard with a shout of her name, hips jerking and fingers grasping hers tightly.
Deanna slowly licks up the length of him and he shudders, so sensitive it's on the verge of being too much. She pulls back, licks her lips, her eyes shining. He's shaking, his limbs are liquid and he thinks she looks far too pleased for her own good.
"Come here," he says roughly, taking her shoulders and pulling her up into his arms. She kisses him, hot and passionate and with a bitter edge where she tastes of him, and she's so open to him in every way that it makes him shiver.
"You never answered my question," he says after a long moment, and it's almost petulant.
"You know the answer already." She presses their palms together so their ring fingers touch, and this time he doesn't guard his thoughts.
You're mine, and I don't care who knows it. The gentle roughness of his words sends a thread of liquid heat down her spine, and it shouldn't excite her so much to hear him talk this way, but it does.
Everyone always knew you were mine, she retorts, unable to resist an opportunity to puncture the smugness that's positively radiating from him.
"Really? Even when you were seeing someone else?" His eyes widen in mock surprise, but he knows and she knows that he's always belonged to her in every way, even when they pretended otherwise.
"Subconscious desires have a way of making themselves known," she says mildly.
"And Worf?"
There's no response, and Will figures he probably deserves that.
"So you knew I'd come around eventually?" he presses on.
She rolls her eyes. "I really am going to have to shut you up now."
"I've got a few ideas, if you –"
Deanna presses against him, kisses him and he thinks yes, now would be a really good time to shut the hell up.
If you aren't allowed to be ridiculously cheesy and have way too much sex with your spouse on your wedding day, what kind of wedding are you having? Amen...