so_jang: (p/c kiss)
[personal profile] so_jang
There's a kiss battle thread on the Picard/Crusher board where I camp and the smutty, fluffy, prony-ness of that totally needed to come here!

Title: 21 Picard/Crusher kiss scenes
Ratings: G-R (I'll warn if it's smutty)

There's no real point. Just kissing, in some fashion. They've been really really fun to write. Unbetaed. Some responses to some. some cliched. it's a kiss dump...




Breakfast - fluff - G
Coffee, the faint sweetness of irodite berry jam and a unique taste that belonged solely to his mouth filled hers when she invaded Jean-Luc's with her tongue. It was only breakfast, their third since he'd proposed, but something was different. They were both more lighthearted. She sat closer to him while they ate, and today, while he waited for her to pass the butter, she'd become distracted by his lips.

They were controlled, usually neat in a warm but firm line. She was one of few people on board who could get them to curl upward in a smile and Beverly was keenly aware of her gift.

Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him closer and refused to let him break the contact of their lips. It was more than simply being happy, she'd been happy before. This was the stupid, reckless kind of love that got crumbs on their uniforms and spilled coffee along the table.

Her elbow was in the butter, she could tell by the way her arm slid across the table but it didn't matter. What mattered was his tongue finding the sweet spot just inside her lower lip and the way he heard even the tiniest sound she made when he did it.

He loved her little gasps. She adored his silence. It had taken some time to become comfortable with the way each meeting of their lips had the potential to become poetry. This morning, she was halfway into his lap, spilling coffee and scattering scones.

It was messy, sticky, confusing and difficult to recover from, but obviously love.



"guest quarters - almost smut - R"
The dark metal curved up over her head and made her hair seem that much more bright by comparison. They'd been in Quark's. Jean-Luc Picard rarely allowed himself the luxury of having a drink in public, but, the newly minted Captain, Benjamin Sisko had insisted. Chief O'Brien, Worf and Jadzia Dax had joined them, and for one night, he'd been a visitor on another man's station.

Visitors could drink Ferengi Stardusters, Black Holes, Klingon Bloodwine and the other exotic alcoholic beverages Dax insisted that he try. Worf was obviously smitten with the beautiful Trill, O'Brien and Sisko had been no help and Beverly--

Beverly had been only through her second drink when she decided to slip her hand over to his thigh. Resting her fingers there was temptation enough for the impish doctor, after the alcohol had started to go to her head, she'd become incorrigible.

She needed to be punished. As he sucked her neck like a Starfleet cadet, Jean-Luc waited for her to groan before he paid her back for the bar. Running his hand up the taunt muscle on the inside of her thigh, he reached up with two fingers and teased. Her eyes shot open and she caught his face with both of her hands.

Her lips crushed his, sweet with liquor and as intoxicated with his disregard of conduct as his touch. As he taunted her through the thin leggings she was wearing instead of her uniform, he pushed her back against the door. Beverly's teeth caught his lower lip and she nipped it when he pulled his fingers away. Grabbing both of her legs from behind, he pushed her up and guided them around his waist.

It was wrong and it had been decades since he'd allowed himself this kind of decadent pleasure. Her breasts were cool as they crushed against the open necked shirt he'd worn to the bar. The zipper of her dress was within reach, he could undo it right there in the corridor.

The door to their quarters hissed open and the sound of their parting was Cardassian and unfamiliar. Beverly giggled into his ear as he strode in with her legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Kissing her collarbone made her gasp and the Cardassian bed thudded as they dropped against it. Jamming his hand beneath the neck of her dress, he caught one breast in his hand and squeezed as she ran her tongue down his neck.



"quiet - babyfluff - G"
The fleeting contact of her lips on his cheek was all they'd had time for that morning. He'd brushed her hand with his fingers as she left the staff meeting. She'd touched his ankle with her foot and made sure he saw her smiling.

Beverly had heard his voice twice that afternoon, once when he'd had to comm sickbay to ask if she could find the time in her day to pick up the baby from the nursery. It was his turn, but the Luzakermaarian Ambassador was being difficult and he needed to smooth things over. She'd heard the stress in his voice and made sure there was only love in hers.

The second time had been after the bosun's whistle. "The USS Ramses has been located and all hands are well," he informed them all. Her sigh of relief had been more for him than the crew of the Ramses, but she'd kissed the back of her hand for him.

Brushing her lips against her son's head as he slept on her chest, Beverly finished her report at home, writing with one hand as she rubbed the back of their sleeping baby with the other.

The warmth against her forehead woke her from the nap she hadn't realized she was taking. Lazily refusing to open her eyes, she let him trail his way down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as his nose ran cool along her cheek. Kissing his cheek again, she sighed and let him peel their son from her arms. With the baby cradled in his arms, he leaned down and, for the first time that day, their lips met properly and all was well.



"return - angst pg"
She'd been down on the surface for forty-three hours. Jean-Luc knew she hadn't slept, doubted that she eaten more than a few bites of emergency rations and at some point, she'd been drenched by the rain. Oriacha Four was suffering a record monsoon season, and the colony hadn't been prepared for the mudslides that resulted.

The muddy tracks from her boots were still wet on the carpet, but they'd only made a few steps from the door. She'd caught his wrist with one filthy hand when he'd started towards the bedroom to get her robe. Beverly was too tired to speak. Her eyes were haunted with horrors from the planet she couldn't explain to him. There was blood streaked on her face, and she hadn't had time to clean it off.

His hand started there, smoothing the dirt and dried blood back away from her lips. Dirt, blood and old sweat were not smells he associated with his wife. He touched her dry lips with his thumb, asking her permission before he kissed her.

Covering her exhausted mouth with his, however gently, broke her control. The intimacy was safe and safety was the one thing she couldn't handle on her own.

The choked sound started in her chest and exploded outward until she was shaking. As they clung to each other, her face buried in his chest as she sobbed, all he could do was rest his face in her hair. Kissing her head through the damp, muddy red strands of her hair, he kept his arms tight around Beverly's shoulders and just held firm.



"prop - fluff - g"
Beverly's character was a twisted shell of a woman who had once been great, searching for the remnants of herself in the cynical world she inhabited. He considered it a tribute to her growing skill as an actress that he'd lost her in the story. She wasn't Beverly, his Beverly, the loving, passionate woman who shared his bed. On stage, she was evil. Her character was corrupt and twisted.

The little reading glasses did something to him that was entirely out of character. It didn't matter that the woman they belonged to was despicable. He couldn't help wanting to lift them off her slender nose and kiss the skin beneath. No matter which character that nose belonged to, the privilege of kissing it was still his.

Her long black skirt swished as she bustled about backstage, making sure everything was in order before she left the stage for the reception in the Happy Bottom Riding Club. The applause had long since died away, and all her actors were already gone. She wasn't going to take the time to change, and the tight Victorian bodice shoved her pale breasts together. He loved that, even though she swore it was uncomfortable.

The wire-rimmed glasses had slipped nearly off her nose as she set the padd of stage directions aside and turned. Shoving them up as she stared at him, she curtsied elegantly as he clapped.

"Brava, madame," he teased as he reached for the back of her neck. Her hair was up in a tight knot and he could feel the warm skin covering her spine.

Her finger touched his nose, pushing him back. "You're not supposed to be back here."

"It's still my ship," he retorted as he kissed the hollow between her collarbones. Following her neck up, he kissed until he reached her bottom lip. From that angle, he could see her blue eyes through the glasses and he wanted to pull her hair free of the knot, tear off the glasses and kiss the breath out of her. As it was, her chest heaved against his as his tongue worked her to distraction.

"That it is," she sighed.

He ran his thumb along the edge of her neckline and the soft flesh beneath. "Will you wear those at the reception?"

Beverly tossed her hands lazily around his neck. "I think I might have to."



cave - fluff - pg"
Kissing her was by far the easiest and most pleasant way to keep her awake, Jean-Luc decided as he nibbled her bottom lip. Breaking the kiss to check her blue eyes again, he felt the twinge of guilt that he'd gotten them both stuck. If he'd pulled her out of the way of the falling rocks instead of pushing them in deeper into the cave, they might be on the surface with the rest of the team. Logic insisted they might also have been dead and that their team would find them.

Her gaze was a little foggy, and in the weak light from the bizarre, glowing, faintly pink moss on the ceiling, he wondered she had a mild concussion. The wound had stopped bleeding, but the dried blood in her hair still made him feel guilty.

Beverly's eyes fluttered and threatened to close. He kissed her chin and then the side of her nose, tasting her beneath the dampness of the cave.

"Stay with me," he commanded.

Pouting, she teased back, "My head doesn't hurt when you kiss me."

"My emergency medical training didn't cover this method," Jean-Luc taunted and then raised an eyebrow as her hands dug into his lower back.

"It'll keep me awake." Beverly's tongue flicked out warm against his neck, perhaps the head wound was less severe than he thought. One of her hands tugged on his grey undershirt. "Unless you're worried that we'll get rescued."

Leaning on an elbow, he rubbed his thumb along the line of her lip. "Might be just the impetus they need," he replied sardonically. The cave was dark and foreboding, but her mouth was warm and familiar, as if he'd always known the feeling of her lips.

Her little gasp when they broke contact was soft and playful. "Don't make me pretend to pass out on you," she teased, cool fingers running along his back just above the waist of his trousers.

"I keep picturing Worf," he confessed as he licked a slow circle on her neck.

Her cool hands grabbed his head and pulled him up so she could explore his mouth. Letting her take control, he felt the tip of her tongue run playfully over the roof of his mouth until he laughed and broke the kiss.

"Think we can make him blush?"



"aerosol - smutty - pg-13"
It shouldn't have been funny.

Alyssa looked dreadfully concerned and Geordi looked apologetic as they watched her like overprotective babysitters. Neither of them dared come into the lab and that was funny. Beverly remembered through the haze in her mind that she was contagious.

The doors to sickbay hissed open and Jean-Luc walked in. He wore his black riding boots, those incredibly tight pants that did amazing things to his butt and a simple black shirt. He should wear black more often, she thought to herself as she pulled herself up on the counter and sat there, waiting for him.

His expression flickered through wonder to the quiet kind of embarrassment that he wore so well.

"Beverly-" he asked gently. "What did you do?"

Using her finger to coax him into the lab, she pulled one leg up and balanced seductively on the counter. Smirking at him, she guided him in even closer. She could smell him, his subtle cologne and the underlying scent that was him alone.

"I didn't do anything, Jean-Luc," she defended herself. "The quarantine field," she heard herself explaining and sighed at how boring it seemed. "I like those pants..." she purred and reached for reached for him. "I was working-" she chirped and started to giggle, "Then I kept thinking how much more fun it would be if you were here."

"The EPS conduit behind med lab two overloaded," Geordi explained.

"Doctor Crusher's been working on her old research on the Psi Two Thousand polywater compound," Alyssa explained. "She may have been working with a sample--"

"When the conduit overloaded," Geordi interrupted and she didn't want to listen. "The change in temperature may have aerosolized the water and exposed her."

Beverly could almost reach him, if he was just a little closer. Pretending to slip off the counter brought him over, she knew that she could count on him to be gallant and rescue her.

"Captain-"

"Captain don't-"

Alyssa and Geordi spoke at once, but it was too late. Jean-Luc's hands were on her waist and she had him by the back of his neck.

"Too late," she giggled as she ran her fingers up over his head. "I hope you didn't ride that holographic horse too hard. I don't want you tired. I have such plans for you."

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows and the flush on his face was part embarrassment and part of the same delicious warmth she felt. Leaning down to capture his lips, she crushed them, then devoured his elegant mouth as if she could pull out his soul. With the wild, intoxicated abandon that made it okay to kiss him breathless with an audience, she slipped her legs around his back and pulled him close.

"Will you keep your boots on?" she hissed as she felt his fingers dig into her butt.

"I'll do anything you want," he promised as he grabbed her hips a little tighter.

"Good boy!"

This time he met her halfway and the heat of his mouth was like a plasma fire.



"breathe - angst - pg"
Smoke poisoned the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The crackling behind him was plasma in the exposed conduit and the acrid stench was burnt duranium. The corridor had been rent, beams bent and hanging lose from the ceiling. His fingertips still tickled and what hair he had was standing up from the shock.

He remembered the blast from the ion storm arcing through the corridor in a blast of brilliant power. In the middle of it, he'd felt like he'd fallen into some medieval hell. Miraculously, his artificial heart was still beating in his chest. Touching his own chest reverently, he thanked the creators of the device again for keeping him alive. Coolant hissed from broken valves around him as he checked his body. He was all right, dirty and tingling but all right.

Turning to the left as he started to get to his feet, he put his hand down on something soft and yielding. Confused by the feeling of flesh beneath his hand, he moved as if he was in slow motion. He'd put his hand down on Beverly's chest. She lay still and crumpled on the floor beside him. Had they been walking together? He couldn't remember.

Reaching for her neck, he found a weak pulse beneath her skin. Residual energy still crackled along their skin as he touched her. The ice in his stomach faded as he rolled her over. Her face was dirty, and though it meant nothing, it bothered him.

How long had they been out? Choking on the acrid air, he dropped his ear to her lips. She wasn't breathing. Maybe she'd been closer to the fire. Perhaps she'd hit her head. Logic screamed at him to find an answer, but he shut it all down.

Drag her out. Get her out of the wreckage and find good air, he ordered himself.

He freed her from the metal, slicing his hands in process, and grabbed her under the arms. Pulling her across the filthy carpet, he dragged her to the shut door of the observation lounge. His mind put everything in order, one thing at a time. Pounding the door open, pulling her inside, shutting the door again, all of it happened mechanically.

He checked her mouth, licking the blood from his finger before he parted her lips and made sure she hadn't bit her tongue. Pinching her nose, tilting her head back, he sealed his mouth to hers and breathed for her. Praying his own aching lungs could do the job, he leaned back, waiting and closed the distance between their lips again. Red alert klaxxons blared, and his ship groaned with metal and gasses.

All that mattered was that she breathe.



"post chain of command - angst - pg-13"

Her arms are folded over her chest and she can barely stand still in the corridor. Jean-Luc's still sore. Every muscle has been repaired, but the damage was done. He's tired and it makes him stiff, like after the Academy Marathon. Somehow he feels centuries older.

If it was anyone but her, he'd try but he can't get rid of her. He moves aside and guides her silently into his quarters. Her hands are trembling as she fidgets with her sleeve. Something's wrong. Her professional detachment's been shattered. That worries him, even though he thought he was too tired to feel anything anymore.

She was the one who had to remove his agony-inducing implant and heal the damage to his body. Beverly wouldn't let anyone else. No matter how much it hurt her to see him like that, she needed to be the one to do it personally. He hasn't told her how grateful he was for that.

For a long moment, they just stand there, facing each other. When he looks in her eyes, he only sees pain. Comforting her is part of him, he remembers that, but he can't move his arm.

"I read Deanna's report," she says. The words hang in the air. He was honest with Deanna. He had to be.

"Jean-Luc--" The Cardassian tried to take his name. When she says it, everything he is rushes back. He is Jean-Luc Picard. No matter what a gul did to him in the dark, he still loves her. That's deeper than the uniform, almost deeper than his name.

He reaches for her shoulder, feeling stiff as he does, but he knows the motion is right.

Beverly grabs his face. She moves slowly, knowing not to startle him. He's surprised when he feels himself smile. He wasn't sure he remembered how.

There's desperation beneath her blue eyes. Her lips touch his, tentatively. She knows the intimacy might be too much but she risks it. He wonders how much she must have needed the contact to dare. Her forehead rests against his. He remembers that he can hold her shoulders. Both of his hands squeeze warm flesh and it occurs to him that he needs her.

He's confused and she sees it.

"You stayed. You went back to that Cardassian because he told you he had me," she whispers. There are tears in her eyes. He hasn't cried. He's not sure he remembers how to do that.

"Of course," he replies dumbly.

"Jean-Luc," this time his name is a prayer and his hands slide up her neck.

He's the one holding her face. Numbly brushing a tear from her cheek, he smiles faintly. Deanna was trying to remind him that it might take awhile to feel safe. When Beverly says his name, he is safe. He is human when she looks at him.

He touches her lips, remembering the soft heat of them against his own. He liked that. It felt- he felt-

He leans towards her and she waits for him. Beverly lets him take his time getting to her. When they touch, warmth suffuses him. He remembers being warm. She is warm in his thoughts. He'd been so cold...

Exploring her lips shyly, he only feels the surface of her mouth. Beverly parts her lips and the tip of her tongue finds his. Startled, he tries to remember. He opens his mouth and she sighs in relief. Letting her in is safe.

Something stirs in his chest. It burns down from the wetness of her mouth against his. He would have stayed for her. He would have done anything for her. That emotion creeps out, reminding him who he is even more than his name.



"tradition - fluff - g"
"It's tradition," Will explained grinned as he banged his wedding ring against his champagne flute.

Deanna started to giggle at Worf's side. "No, give them a minute. You're supposed to surprise them."

"I do not understand this exercise," Worf complained good-naturedly. "Instead of attacking them, we besiege them with sound until they kiss? They do not seem to have a problem kissing."

He glanced over at his captain and chief medical officer. Picard's fingers were still on his new wife's chin and they were both beaming as their lips parted. Worf remembered feeling that kind of love for Jadzia and was pleased his friends had finally decided to be together.

"However," the Klingon shrugged and smiled over his wine. "I am fond of tradition."

"That's the spirit," Will agreed.

"I still think we should attack them," Deanna teased and eyed the uncut wedding cake. "That sounded like fun to me."

Geordi joined them in their corner. Grinning wickedly, he used the side of his communicator badge and knocked it against his glass. Will and Deanna joined in tapping and across the Happy Bottom Riding Club, the captain and doctor obediently kissed again. Picard bent her down dramatically and this time Beverly came up laughing. She leaned into his chest and Worf tried to remember if he'd ever seen either of them so happy.

"Doesn't get old, does it?" Geordi teased, laughing with Will and Deanna.

"It really doesn't"," Will agreed wickedly. He grabbed Deanna and kissed her for good measure. "I hope you kept your costume."

Geordi snorted and nearly spat champagne. Last night, Beverly's idea of a hen night had been dressing all the women in attendance as Orion slave girls and crashing Picard's party instead of the Risian dancers Will had wanted. He'd never before seen Beverly's legendary dancing abilities and had been suitably impressed. Jadzia would have loved it.

"Beverly's little maneuver at the end was positively naughty," Geordi added when he had breath to do so.

"Didn't think the captain's ears could blush," Will piped up cheekily. "Worf, I think it's your turn."

The newlyweds were talking to a set of ambassadors. Worf studied them for a moment and took the fork Deanna offered him. He hadn't yet used his power to coerce kissing and he was biding his time.

'Stole it from the bar," Deanna explained.


"Thank you, sir," Jean-Luc finished graciously. "It is our pleasure to have you in attendance."

Beverly leaned close enough that her lips brushed against his ear. "They've talked Worf into it."

The chiming sound of metal against crystal rang through the lounge and the assembled guests started to murmur in anticipation.

"Excuse me," Jean-Luc offered to the ambassadors. "Duty calls."

Twirling Beverly around slowly under her arm, he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer. She resisted for a moment before she threw her arms around his neck and fused their lips together. The murmuring around them became cheers. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and the guilty pleasure of kissing her in public shivered over him. Beverly sighed into his mouth and refused to let him go.



The cheers rose and fell. Everyone else in the lounge could have popped out of existence because she had no intention of ending that kiss.
"Two minutes, thirteen seconds," Geordi shook his head in amazement. "They'll break it off at three, don't you think?"

Will's eyebrows were up and he stared wickedly at his former captain. "Ten credits says they make four minutes."

"Four minutes, twenty seconds," Deanna raised him. "And twenty credits."

"You don't think?" Geordi asked with a low whistle. "I'm in. Four minutes, fifteen seconds."

"Worf?" Will nudged him.

Picard's hands were still on Beverly's back. "Seven minutes," Worf decided, openly proud of his captain. "Perhaps eight."



"wait - babyfluff - g"
The sweat on her neck hadn't dried. Her body was wrapped up neatly in his limbs, legs inside of his and arms resting on the swell of her belly. She'd been the one who convinced him that even in the advanced state of her pregnancy, making love was important to both of them.

It was awkward and frequently induced more laughter than sounds of satisfaction, but they managed. Resting his mouth against her neck, he tasted the still damp, saltiness of her sweat and wondered again why she was still so warm. His own skin had dried quickly in the air of their quarters. She'd been up twice to use the bathroom and she'd been quiet enough that he wondered if she was asleep.

Beverly's hand moved along his arm, lazily acknowledging the way his arms lay on her stomach. Her breath caught for a moment in her chest, and he felt along her belly for the protruding foot that usually accompanied that sound. Their son was active to the point of driving her crazy. Some nights she woke Jean-Luc just to have someone to complain to.

Asking if she was all right would have broken the moment. He wove his way up around her shoulder with his lips. Tracing a trail around, he was soon leaning over her and nuzzling her cheek.

Beverly smiled at him without opening her eyes. "Didn't mean to startle you," she murmured. Tilting her head up, she offered him the gentle familiarity of her mouth. Kissing her was both sentimental and full of promise. He rested his chin on her shoulder and lifted her hand to his lips.

"Is he after your ribs again?"

"Not exactly," she sighed. Her lips curled pleasantly but the skin between her eyebrows furrowed. Beverly's hand tightened on his arm and something passed through her body.

He felt the flexing of the muscles of her stomach beneath his arm. Kissing her ear was his gentle query, and she actually chuckled weakly.

"I'm not ready to get up," she explained softly. Her eyes were still closed but fresh sweat hung in her hairline. Jean-Luc tasted it and felt cold anticipation clamp around his spine. "This is nice," Beverly added.

Planting his lips on the back of her hand, he felt her ball her fingers into a fist and the shudder of pain in her face was obvious. Beverly winced and let her eyes flutter open to meet his.

"Just hold me for awhile," she begged. "You'll have plenty of time to fuss." Her hand traced his features and he settled for kissing her wrist.

She held his cheek and her blue eyes turned serious. "I'm glad you're here."



"post Sub Rosa - fluff - g"
Putting her grandmother's journals away in the back of her closet, Beverly sighed and stood up. Her things were back where they belonged. After Jean-Luc had helped her see Ronin for what he was, she'd destroyed the energy creature before she could merge with him. It still felt odd, as if she'd been someone else for the last few days.

Deanna had been a good friend and tried to talk her through her feelings. She still felt a trace of regret. He'd been so passionate; dedicated to her every whim and it had been intoxicating. Ronin had loved her the way no one had since Jack died. As insane as her affair with him had been, part of her had enjoyed it. She'd felt attractive and desirable. Even though she was relieved to be home on the Enterprise, being completely swept away had its merits.

Her door chimed and she brushed her hands on her nightgown. It was late, almost too late for Deanna. She had a hunch it was Jean-Luc. A trace of left over, rebellious instinct took over didn't bother to put on her robe over her revealing silk nightgown. One of the few good things she'd gotten from Ronin were several new nightgowns that showed off her figure. He'd already seen it. He'd already seen her, but for some irrational reason, she wanted him to see it again.

"Come in," she said as she faced the door. "Need a bedtime story?" she asked as the doors parted and revealed the captain.

He too was out of uniform, something surprising from him, and the long tan robe offered her a pleasant glimpse of his chest. "I'm sorry to bother you," he began sheepishly.

Waving him in, she headed for the replicator. "Tea or something stronger?"

"I realized I never apologized," he offered as he stood awkwardly by the door.

"Would you mind whiskey?" she asked. She wasn't certain what the apology would be, but Beverly wasn't sure she wanted to discuss it. "It's an old Irish tradition."

He nodded and continued without waiting for her. "I behaved a little irrationally over the last few days. I threatened to kidnap you, walked in on you and your--"

"Ghost lover?" she teased. Pressing the whiskey into his hand, she pointed him towards the sofa. "It's all right. I appreciate that you tried to stop me. Not everyone would."

"Felisa Howard, her equal will never be among us again," he offered as he lifted the glass.

"That's Scottish," Beverly realized with a touch of pride. He grinned and her and clinked their glasses together. She drank most of hers in one gulp. It had been sweet of him to look it up. "Jean-Luc," she began. "I'm the one who owes you an apology." Swirling the whiskey helped her think and the synthehol haze washed warmly over her.

"What for?" he asked, crossing her legs and setting down his glass on the table.

"It must have been difficult for you," she started. The only way to finish before she lost her nerve was to keep talking. "I tell you I'm not ready for a relationship and I jump into bed with the next plasma-based anaphasic energy creature who walks by--"

"Actually," he piped up dryly. "It was a chair."

His hands were centimeters from hers. Their knees were almost touching. Beverly reached for his hand and squeezed suddenly, surprising them both with her desperation. "I would have gone with him. Let him-- I would have lost myself in him, if it wasn't for you."

His hand tightened in response and she felt him turn his head to kiss her cheek. Beverly moved faster and met his lips awkwardly. For a moment, they both froze. Then their lips started to move, searching each other and finding something neither of them had known how much they needed. Beverly pushed and he allowed her free rein over his mouth.

Maybe it was another remnant. Perhaps something she'd gotten from Nana's journals drove her. Whatever it was, Beverly felt like breaking contact with him would have been a death sentence.



"watch - more babyfluff - pg"
He liked to watch. Beverly had to admit that didn't surprise her. Her husband was an avid observer. Few things that went occurred on board his ship slipped past him. The part that astonished her was that he hadn't lost interest. Even now, as he sat in the chair across from her, he was only pretending to read.

Their son was nearly four months old. His hair was starting to come in red and fluffy over his round little head. His eyes were closed and his mouth tugged on her breast. No matter how many times she tried to explain how it felt to him. She couldn't find words. It was somewhere between uncomfortable, relaxing, painful and ever so slightly reminiscent of sex.

For the first few months they'd been together, her breasts had been subject to his adoration and explorer's touch. While she'd been pregnant, they'd become sore and he'd respected that tenderness with a new level of gentleness. With the baby's arrival, Jean-Luc had learned that over zealousness while making love got him a mouthful of breastmilk. The look on his face had been priceless and it hadn't happened again.

Still, no matter how many times he'd seen the naked skin of her breasts, or watched their son latch on, he was distracted again. Jean-Luc's paperwork lay forgotten in his lap. Her hands were full with their son and she had to nudge him with his foot to draw his attention.

Jean-Luc reached over and smoothed the down on his son's head. Smiling gently, he ran one finger across the smooth skin of her breast. Following that path up to her face with his eyes, he beamed at her.

Tilting up her nose, she flicked the tip of her tongue playfully at him. Reminding him she was more than the mother of his son was one of her more fascinating hobbies. Raising her eyebrows, Beverly chuckled as his finger moved up and ran along her bottom lip. His hand cupped her chin and he slid closer on the sofa.

She led his gentle beginning into something passionate, slipping her tongue deep into his mouth. His tiny, soundless grunt of surprise suggested he'd be willing to forget his paperwork until morning. Beverly moaned enough to tease him and felt their son release his hold on her breast. Passing him over to his father's arms, she leaned down to kiss his baby cheek.

Catching the dimple in Jean-Luc's chin, she nibbled up to his lips and sighed contently into another kiss. The baby would sleep for at least an hour and they'd have time to indulge Jean-Luc's fascination.



"lick - PORN - R"
The soft skin of her thigh brushed across his cheek. Licking his tongue along the taunt tendon, Jean-Luc felt her shudder. Sometimes she was too sensitive. Starting with her feet and working his way up the long, tantalizing length of her legs was like a game.

If they'd been fencing, making her sigh was a nearly a touch, making her jolt enough that her wet vagina smacked against his cheek was definitely worth a point. His right hand helped guide her back onto the bed. Pressing her clitoris against the flat of his palm made her tighten the hand on his shoulder in response.

He teased her with his thumb, slipping just high enough that the pressure was wasted. Jean-Luc kissed his way lazily over to the other thigh. Guiding that leg up higher, he pulled the pillow beneath her and lifted her hips enough to have a better angle. His chin brushed her this time and he teased her again by ignoring the little urgent moan in her throat.

His thumb parted the lips of her vagina. Running up the wet pink flesh, he stopped just below her clitoris and left it entirely untouched.

"Dammit," she hissed. Beverly wrapped her leg around his back and pulled him closer. He resisted and licked the tender underside of her knee. For a moment she teetered between giggling and cursing him again.

Jan-Luc pulled back, peering up at the rest of her body. Her fingers were knotted into the sheet on the bed and her eyes were squeezed shut. His penis was hardening and he was starting to sympathize with her frustration. Giving in too quickly was never as good as making her wait.

Deciding he'd waited enough, he leaned in and slowly licked his tongue across her all but neglected clitoris. The firm flesh rolled beneath his lip and her gasp was worth his own longing to bury his stiff penis inside her. He settled for one finger and leisurely slipped it inside. He thrust up once with his index finger before adding another. Licking and sucking in slow, torturous rhythm he kept his fingers even slower.

The counterpoint of the motion made her groan and he heard the hiss of another swallowed curse in her throat. She lifted her hips in an effort to force herself deeper into his mouth and he let her clitoris rub against his hard bottom teeth through the protection of his lip. Using the sound of her breath as a guide, he held back, always moving just slower than he knew she wanted.

Curling his fingers into a hook and suddenly changing speed was what wrung her shivering orgasm out of her. Feeling her convulse beneath his tongue, hearing her moan and then pant towards the ceiling; all of it was worth the aching desperation of his own body.

Beverly wavered slightly as she sat up. Her creamy silk nightgown clung to the sweat of her skin and one of the straps was off her shoulder. Instead of pulling him up to the bed, she slipped down and straddled his knees. The wet heat of her vagina was only separated from him by a few thin layers of fabric and it was his turn to groan.

She rubbed his lips playfully with a shaking hand and let her head drop to his shoulder. When she'd caught her breath, she thanked him properly. Beverly's mouth welcomed him greedily. The twitch of her hips and the friction it caused made him gasp. She dragged his hand to her breast and met his eyes wickedly. He could feel her pert nipple through the thin silk.

"You're overdressed," she purred. Beverly's hands reached down and started undoing his trousers.


From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

Profile

so_jang: (Default)
Opal

May 2009

S M T W T F S
     1 2
3 4 56 789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 08:05 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios