so_jang: (p/c kiss)
[personal profile] so_jang
I thought I hadn't written that many.

HA! LJ entry filter says yes, I have spent that much time on kiss fics.

Some porny, some fluffy, some cliched. all Dr. Crusher/Picard.


"Arsenal of Freedom - fluff - pg"
Listening to his footsteps against the sandy floor of the cavern took Beverly's mind off the stabbing pain in her leg. The duller throb in her arm was starting to fade into the dark haze that threatened her. Though she didn't miss the pain, the medical training in the back of her mind insisted the pain was important.

Jean-Luc was talking, trying to keep her awake as she'd told him. He was gentle, concerned and so quick to listen to her directions. He'd always been like that. She'd started to forget how caring he could be.

The hanging roots rustled. She thought he'd returned to her right side but Jean-Luc's red uniform faded into her vision on the left instead. He crouched, squatting by her side.

"I couldn't find anything," he explained. Beverly heard him speaking but it was hard to focus on the words. Her mind started to drift.

Something touched her left leg. Panic bubbled up cold in her stomach, if it was some kind of animal--

It was him. Jean-Luc's knee was touching her thigh. The sand moved and fresh agony shot through her leg like lighting. His hand caught her chin. Smelling faintly of the bitter roots, his hand dragged her back to the cavern.

"We fell," she repeated.

"You fell," Jean-Luc teased her. "I foolishly tried to save you."

"Bad rescue," she chided him. The sand beneath her was cold. She was cold. Beverly licked her lips weakly and tasted old blood in the back of her throat.

"I shall endeavor to do better," he promised. She thought he was smiling but it was hard to focus on his face. "Beverly--"

"It's cold," she answered. The words to explain what she was thinking failed her. "Shock."

The sand shifted. The pain in her arm sang out louder than the agony of her leg. Her throat ached. She'd gulped back her cry of pain, but he was so close he had to have heard her.

Warmth started to radiate through her left side. It almost made up for the pain. She'd been so cold that her limbs were starting to go numb. The heat source on her stomach moved. Something moved by her ear and she realized abruptly that it was him.

Jean-Luc lay on his side in the dirt next to her, chest, legs and stomach pressed against her uninjured left side.

"I apologize for the familiarity," he offered, only half teasing.

Resting her good hand on his arm, she nodded weakly. "Warmer," Beverly said.

"I can't find a way out," he said, lips nearly touching her neck. "This cavern isn't very big, but it appears to have been created. There are some panels in the corner but they're dead."

Pain lanced up from her leg and she tightened her grip on his arm.

"Will and the others will find us," he promised.

Nodding was easier than speaking. Words seemed to get jumbled once they got into her mouth.

"Doctor--"

When had she fallen asleep?

"Beverly--"

Heat she didn't understand blossomed from a point on her cheek. Was something there? She couldn't turn her head but it fell to the side on its own. Jean-Luc's eyes were dangerously close. When she loosened her death-grip on his arm, he kissed her cheek. Heat rushed through her body.

"Stay with me."



"homecoming - pg"
Kate Pulaski tapped her signature on the bottom and nodded before she extended her hand. "Good luck, Doctor."

"Likewise, Doctor," Beverly grinned as she shook Kate's hand.

"You made the right choice," Kate continued more seriously.

"The Enterprise?" Beverly asked as she grabbed her last bag from the floor. Thinking of her son, she grinned as she started to the office that had been her home.

"You know what they say," Kate answered. "Any ship called Enterprise, it's all about her captain."

The rest of her leaving was a blur. The Andorian technician assigned to her, she never caught his name, got her to the transporter padd and suddenly she was home. She'd only been on the Enterprise a year, but something about just being on board again was comforting. She'd enjoyed Starfleet Medical, but there was something right about her being here. Glancing around the transporter room, her eyes fell on the one person standing in it.

"Welcome back," Jean-Luc said with a patient smile.

"I'm sorry- Jean-Luc- paperwork," she stammered, climbing down off the padd. "You wouldn't believe the paperwork Starfleet puts off until the last minute."

Jean-Luc caught her bag for her and shouldered the strap. "I know," he offered. "Welcome aboard, doctor." She'd missed that smile. The little hint of longing in his hazel eyes welcomed her home. They were standing too close. No one else was in the room.

Kate's words echoed in her mind; "On any ship called Enterprise, it's all about the captain."

Was it him? Had he always smelled so good? A year of simply listening to his voice and reading his letters hadn't been enough. She'd forgotten what it was to stand next to him and feel that strange electricity that was always around them.

"It's good to be back," she said. It was pathetic, but she knew he'd understand what she wasn't saying.

"The Enterprise is the better for it," he replied with a nod. They both stood awkwardly facing the door. On the other side of it, the moment would be over and she'd be 'doctor' and he would be 'captain'.

"Jean-Luc--"

His hand was warm on her shoulder. He'd kissed her a year ago and she only had to lean inwards to return the gesture. His lips were warm and supple. He yielded to her and returned the searching sweetness.

"It's good to be back."



"post-Insurrection - fluff - g"
“The metaphasic radiation had some interesting side effects,” Beverly reported to her husband. From behind his desk, he didn’t look up. It was one of the reports that he made a habit of listening to while he tried to read something else. She didn’t blame him. Starfleet had made a mess of things with the Ba’ku and with Admiral Forest dead, he was in charge of cleaning it up.

He looked younger, even as he glared at the computer screen. The planet had given him a glow. A certain carelessness that she associated with a much younger Jean-Luc Picard was back and she loved it. They’d made love in a cave after the roof had fallen in. She’d had a mild head injury, it hadn’t been romantic in a traditional sense, but it had been productive.

Jean-Luc hummed faintly and she could see the hint of a smile playing around his thin lips. He’d had latin music on the brain. She usually approved but this afternoon she needed him to pay attention.

“The regenerative qualities of the radiation nullified the fertility inhibitor shots of many people on board,” she continued while he stared down at the computer screen. “The Ba’ku must have adapted, their fertility rates are normal, but most of the crew had a limited exposure and quite a few women are turning up pregnant. In fact, two in science, one security officer, one in engineering and one in medical turned up in this morning’s round of physicals.”

“I trust everyone is healthy,” he replied, proving he was in fact listening.

“Everyone looks good,” she mused beaming at him when he still didn’t look up. “No other injuries and everyone is in good shape. Even the Sona.”

Jean-Luc glanced at her as she headed for the door. “Who was it in medical?” he asked without really paying attention. She suspected he thought it was a friend.

“The chief medical officer,” she said simply and exited the ready room.


Worf knew it was going to be an interesting conversation for the captain when Doctor Crusher emerged from the turbolift. He’d been trying to place the change in her scent. He’d thought for a while it had just been the effects of the radiation changing his sense of smell, but he’d been certain that morning something was different.

When she emerged from the ready room, she was smiling wickedly. Instead of leaving, Doctor Crusher went straight for the center seat, sat down and folded her legs into the chair. Commander Riker looked surprised but said nothing.

He couldn’t know. Worf circled to the front of the bridge and met Doctor Crusher’s eyes. She’d been affected by the planet too. Crusher glowed. The distinct change in her scent, a softening and deepening in the smell that was her, rather like lilac. It was good for her.

She lowered an eyebrow and titled her head to side as she thought. Suddenly, she beamed at him. He nodded and returned to his station. He was right.

It took nearly a minute for the captain to emerge from the ready room. He scanned the bridge and his eyes landed on his wife in his seat. Heading straight for her, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her up from his chair and kissed her.

Even at the wedding, Worf had seen little from them in displays of affection. Perhaps it was the radiation. Crusher waited a moment, in case the kiss was ending, and then she threw her arms around his neck.

Riker looked like he’d just seen Q appear to do something selfless. Picard held his pregnant wife in his arms for nearly a minute, unabashed and Worf nodded.

He was right.



"post-Descent - pg"
Usually when he was looking for her, Jean-Luc simply walked into sickbay and politely demanded her attention. Not that she minded, some days his quiet presence made a long day that much more manageable. Today, he was waiting for her in her office. Leaning on one of the chairs in front of her desk, he stared at her's.

Completely lost in thought, Jean-Luc didn't notice her until she touched his shoulder. He smiled as he felt her hand on his shoulder. He knew her touch as well as she knew his.

"Can I help you?" she asked lightly. Matching wits with him would be a pleasant distraction from the steady stream of post-trauma check ups and she returned his smile.

He straightened and nodded. "Do you have a moment?"

Beverly winked and set her padd down on her desk. "For you, I might have two."

When he didn't take the chair, she remained standing. He seemed light-years away in thought, not uncommon, but it made her curious. Crossing her arms over her chest, Beverly smirked at him and waited.

"I was just thinking," he started. Jean-Luc's gentle smile played in his eyes. "I could never step into your shoes. My skills with a laser scalpel notwithstanding." He paused, almost smirking. "My realm of knowledge is entirely unrelated. I could never expect to run sickbay but you quite capably captained my ship and defeated a Borg vessel."

"Your bedside manner isn't bad," she reminded him. Squeezing his hand on her shoulder, Beverly realized how lucky they were to even be having this conversation together. "You did quite well on Minos."

Planting her lips on his cheek, she felt the warmth of his skin and wished she could be weak. Weakness would let her wrap her arms around him and kiss him senseless but she couldn't afford it. Remaining a moment longer than she dared, she finally retreated back behind her desk. The barrier would serve to save them both from temptation.

Jean-Luc remained, balancing against her desk as if he were totally at home in her office. "I would have been lost without you," he revealed without losing his smile.

"Oh, I know," she retorted. Leaning back in her chair, she studied him and wondered how much longer they could share the same orbit before they collapsed into each other. "Down here we do things one patient at a time. In your one foray into my arena, you kept your patient alive. That makes us even."

"Of course, doctor," he agreed with a quick nod of his head. "Still, I hope I can call on you the next time I have a Borg vessel--"

"Captain," she taunted with a wave of her finger. "You know I only make house calls for you."



"birth - babyfluff - pg-13"
His hands were slick but she grabbed them so hard that losing contact was impossible. Everything was wet. Beverly was dimly aware of her hair sticking to her neck. There was fluid tricking down her inner thighs and sweat beading up to run down her breasts. The air itself felt damp but it could have been her perception.

As if they didn't need to reach much past the edges of her skin, all of her senses were muffled. The carpet beneath her feet was damp. The wall she leaned against was cool, even cold, but her body was too warm for it to matter. There was heat in the dampness. Sometimes the hiss of her breathing, or the sound of her own distant voice cut through the darkness.

Beverly knew she didn't need to see to know he was there. The universe had contracted down to the space between her skin and him. She could feel his hands and there were moments when the sounds he made were words. The words were unimportant because she only heard the cadence. He was familiar. He belonged here. His voice was soft and comforting, and his hands were iron.

His hands caught her arms when she faltered.

Something warmer than her skin touched her forehead. The black pain faded and the room started to come back a little. She'd forgotten about the pain. She could smell blood and sweat in the wet air. The taste of it coated her throat. Beverly wasn't worried. A little blood was normal. How did she know that?

The point of heat, the only point of heat that wasn't part of her, found her lips and the taste of blood disappeared. Grabbing his shoulders, Beverly was surprised to find more of him existed than hands and a voice. The kiss- she'd remembered what it was- continued until the pain blacked things out again.

The hands, his hands, caught her hips and held her up and back against the wall. Had she told him to do that? Her hands fell to his chest, knotting his sweat-soaked shirt into her fists. Their lips broke and her sharp moan of pain made his hands grasp her tighter.

Down. The pain, the searing black agony that had hold of her, wanted down. She was more sure of the pain's existence than anything else.

Except him. She could see his eyes. Somehow, in his face there was light.

"I have to push," her own voice echoed in her ears. Had she spoken or had the pain eaten the sound?

"I've got you."

He was between her and the pain. His eyes were directly in front of her own. His hands caught her chest and she found the break to breathe.

"Okay," his voice drew her back. "Okay. Push."



"birth (mirrored) babyfluff- R"
Jean-Luc had lost Beverly hours ago into some deeper part of her mind. In the beginning, she'd joked with him and he'd remember how extraordinary her pain tolerance was. Slowly, she spoke less and the time between contractions where they'd talked about the future disappeared.

The future abruptly ceased to be an abstract concept. Instead of being something that nudged his hand occasionally through the layers of flesh that separated them, their child was a searching, yearning thing that was on its way down.

Jean-Luc could see it in the way her body had changed. After her water broke, her belly shrank and as she transitioned, the swell of her belly sank lower into her hips. He didn't remember when she'd taken off her clothes. Now she leaned against the wall, slick hands and arms entwined with his. Sweat ran down her face and her blue eyes looked straight through without seeing.

In the beat between contractions, he kissed her forehead. Her sweat was hot against his lips. Sensing she was near him, he kissed her lips. The strange intimacty of her naked body pressed against his was familiar. The low, animalistic sound she made when she broke the kiss was alien but he accepted it.

Her eyes found his and he knew it was her.

Beverly's fingers released the wet fabric of his shirt and her hands flattened out on his chest. "I have to push," she informed him. Her certainty sang through him like an electric shock.

A cool hand touched his shoulder and Jean-Luc heard zh'Pietr, Beverly's head nurse, agree. He'd forgotten she was even there, sitting calmly at the table and monitoring Beverly's progress.

"She's dilated," she said calmly. "Kneel down, tell her it's all right and put your hands between her thighs like she taught you."

"I've got you," he promised his wife.

To his surprise, Beverly smiled. For an instant, she was entirely with him and the depth of his love for her coursed through him. He caught her chest and zh'Pietr helped settle Beverly so she crouched, knees apart. The quiet nurse took her shoulders and balanced her. Beverly's hands dug into his arms.

"Okay," he said softly. Concentrating on her and they wanted this baby, Jean-Luc realized this was the last moment he'd have with just his wife.

"Okay," he repeated, smiling. "Push."

Her thighs were wet. Blood and fluid stained his hands. Beverly had promised that was all right. Open towards her, his palms were only centimeters above the floor.

He watched entranced as her body contorted. The low, deep sound tore out of her throat and she pushed. Beverly's head dropped to his shoulder laughing, panting or sobbing; any of it would have sounded the same. She lifted her head back, biting her lip and hissing the air back into her lungs.

Her hand released his arm and reached down to press his hand up. The palm of his hand impacted against something hard and damp. Beverly couldn't explain it, she didn't have words, but she nodded once. She gasped for breath again and he felt the power of it seep through him.

"The baby's head," zh'Pietr explained softly. "He's crowning. Push," she reminded him.

"Beverly--" he said louder. She'd know to push. "I feel him."

Tears mingled with the sweat on her face. All of her skin was hot and red. Her hands fluttered across his shoulders and finally grabbed his neck.

Jean-Luc brought up both of his hands and held them against the hard skull of his son. The softer flesh of her body gave and his son's head dropped into his hands. His mind informed him calmly that the soft variations were his son's nose, eyes and lips pressing into his hand.

"One-" Beverly panted, eyes suddenly clear and bright. "One-"

"-One shoulder at a time," he finished for her, remembering her many coaching sessions. "Push."

She gasped and found breath next to his ear. The wet flat of her cheek pressed against his. His son was still and slimy in his hands, still hot and wet from his mother's body. Beverly was right, of course, and the first shoulder slipped free. Another push and he held both of them.

Astonishingly, she pressed her lips harshly against his when their son came.

The soft body, wet and limber, lay across his palms. The still pulsing rope of the umbilical cord dropped down as he pulled their son up. Cradling the wet, grey body to their chests, Jean-Luc watched in awe as he moved. His tiny fist flopped against the sweat drenched skin of his mother and Beverly started laughing.

"He's here."

Grey faded into pink as their son began to breathe on his own. The afterbirth, the mess coating both of them, the exams, the sore muscles, the marks she'd left on his arms: all of it faded into the beauty of their son.


"treehouse - fluff - g"
It had been the work of the last three afternoons. The lazy, ancient oak tree by the edge of the vineyard was perfect and Marie was gracious enough to allow them to use it. Jean-Luc did not allow himself sealing bolts or cold welding. The work had relaxed him and dragged back out beaming smile of the man she'd married. The difficult work of rebuilding the Federation wore him down but their son had been an invaluable comfort.

Beverly set down her padd of paperwork and watched as two-year-old Henry Galen Picard handed his father nails with a look of conentration that belonged to much older child. Their precocious son frequently appeared to be a Vulcan diplomat trapped in a toddler's body.

The tree house was too dangerous from him to use alone, and Jean-Luc had been a few years premature in building it. Their serious son adored it nonetheless. His favorite activity in Labarre had been pointing skyward at night and reminding his parents that 'Entaprise" and "Warf" were up there. He giggled like the baby he was when his father tickled him and scooped him up.

Jean-Luc dragged their son over to the blanket where his mother lay curled up with her book.

"Today, I think he's going to be an engineer," Jean-Luc told her grinning as Henry ran off to chase a moth through the grass near the vines. "He can be so exacting. He wanted to make sure we'd picked up each and every piece of nail."

Beverly sighed and let him strip the padd from her hands. He spooned up next to her and they watched Henry run together. His lips melted into her neck and she smiled softly.

"He likes order," she agreed, thinking of all the times their son had reorganized the cutlery on the table before meals. "I think he'll live in space."

"He does love to watch the stars," Jean-Luc murmured. She felt the heat of his lips against her cheek and they watched Henry follow Marie into the house. Turning her face up to his, she held his chin for a moment before she pulled his head down to kiss him soundly.

"He's like you that way," she whispered when their lips parted reluctantly. He kissed her cheek, her chin and finally stopped, chuckling, with his lips on the bridge of her nose.

"You've lived your life in space too," he reminded her. His hand stroked the heavy swell of her belly. "So will she."


"other - time travel - pg"
"Did anyone see them?" Beverly Howard asked in a whisper. Helping Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Stargazer turn on the privacy filters on the windows of her tiny apartment on Earth, she glanced back at their guests.

The woman had long, red-gold hair, blue eyes and a blue collar in her odd uniform with three rank insignia on it. Beverly knew it was Starfleet design, but it was an unfamiliar cut. Certainly much different than the red tunics Jack and Jean-Luc wore.

The man who sat beside her was definitely an older version of Jean-Luc. The stern hazel eyes, the chin- it was definitely him. The woman confused her more. She was married, Beverly saw the ring on her hand, and pregnant. Beverly guessed around the middle of the second trimester. From the way the older Jean-Luc eyes remained on the woman, he was her husband.

Beverly tilted her head thoughtfully and tried to imagine her very good friend married. He was obviously in love and the woman smiled at him to calm him. They were deeply enamored with each other. Beverly felt that way about Jack, sometimes, when she had the sense of mind to think before she wanted to rip his clothes off.

"She's you," Jean-Luc had to point out for her. "Your eyes, your nose. Definitely your lips."

"We're from another timeline," the elder Picard volunteered.

"We are sorry to intrude on you," the elder version of her added apologetically. "We needed to get off the street before--"

Beverly startled, it was her voice coming from that mouth.

"Anyone saw you," Jean-Luc, her Jean-Luc, finished. "It's all right." His confusion was buried behind his amusement. "I hope you're not contaminating ours too horribly."

"Captain Picard," the older one offered with a grin. "We shall endeavor not to do so. I imagine it'll only take a few minutes for Wesley to find us."

The other her smiled. Wesley was obviously a friend, or someone she cared for. "Wonder what happened?" she asked her husband.

"Where's Jack?" Jean-Luc asked her as the alternate versions of themselves spoke softly about Wesley and temporal displacement.

Beverly shrugged and shook her head. "My Jack is at his advanced tactical theory class. Maybe they don't have a Jack. They're married."

Her Jean-Luc swallowed and went suddenly white as he stared at a version of his hand resting on a version of her shoulder. "That's--"

Beverly giggled. She covered it with her hand, but she couldn't help it. Jean-Luc looked at her reproachfully. The other Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. The other her looked oddly sympathetic.

"It is funny," the other her acknowledged. "It's all right," the other her, Doctor Picard her, reminded herself. Beverly found that even funnier and tears were starting to form in her eyes.

"You're Doctor Picard," she blurted and buried her face in Jean-Luc's shoulder. He patted her head and shared a glance with himself. "I'm sorry--"

The elder version of her seemed about to laugh with her. The elder Picard smirked but there was a serenity to it her Jean-Luc lacked.

"No Jack?" her Jean-Luc wondered.

Both of their elder versions looked at each other and shook their heads. "Sorry, different timeline."

Beverly saw the sadness in her double's eyes before the older woman buried it. She didn't say anything.

The elder Picard stood, straightened his uniform jacket and moved to stand next to his younger self at the window. "How's the Stargazer?" he asked her Jean-Luc and they began to talk.

Kneeling on the floor at her duplicate's feet, Beverly looked up at her and decided she liked what she saw. She looked older, true, but there was a maturity and a calm to the other version of herself. The duplicate who could make it through a serious conversation without giggling was simply more relaxed.

"Five months?" Beverly asked herself.

The other woman grinned, reached down, grabbed her hand and placed it on her belly. "You'll start hating being groped," Doctor Picard teased her. "But you're me, so it's all right. It's actually almost the end of six. We carry it well."

Beaming at her duplicate, Beverly felt the fetus twist beneath her hand. "Jack and I- well- I guess you don't know him, because you're from another timeline. We just got engaged and started talking about kids and I don't really want one until I get done with school. He thinks there's no reason to wait life is short and-- Sorry. I shouldn't babble. I meant to ask if you were happy."

"Blissfully," the other replied with a wink. "And I still babble."

"Oh good," Beverly sighed in relief. "You're not all stodgy? Did we get less sarcastic? Do you-I-we think before we speak?"

"No, a little, and sometimes," the other responded with a smirk. "Less stodgy than I imagined at your age, certainly. The sarcasm is very much a part of us and I can usually think for a moment. Unless I'm angry. I think you'll like turning into me. I know for the most part-"

That sadness was in her eye again.

"-I certainly have," the duplicate finished.

Bouncing up to the sofa to sit next to herself, Beverly chuckled and wished she understood the sadness. "Good. I'd hate to be bored by being me."

The older her hugged her impulsively. Beverly sank into it, feeling oddly like she'd gotten her mother back for a moment.

The duplicate's eyes were overly bright. Beverly grabbed her hands and both of them smiled as they shared a thought.

"I still fidget, don't I?" Beverly asked.

The other her nodded, "Continuously."

The light appeared in bars, as if it was fading in and out in waves, and took a vaguely human form. A pleasant, sheepishly smiling young man appeared in the center of his living room.

"Sorry," he offered gently. "I forget how strong your minds are. One of you was thinking of your youth and I let us get sidetracked."

"Quite all right," the elder Jean-Luc dismissed the apology. "My fault I'm sure." Gallantly helping his wife to his feet, the two of them moved to stand next to the new arrival.

The elder her smiled indulgently at him and Beverly wondered, insanely if he was related. He looked so familiar.

"Don't change a thing," the elder her teased both Beverly and her Jean-Luc.

"Thank you," the elder Picard bid them. The three of them faded away into the light, leaving Jean-Luc standing next to her, arms folded over his chest.

They stood in silence, then, surprising both of them, Beverly turned. She grabbed his head in her hands and kissed him. It was more involved than friendly and for a moment she felt the warmth she'd seen in her own, alternate eyes.

Something passed through his face as they parted.

"Wanted to try it," Beverly admitted shyly. Continuing more brazenly, she added. "Jack won't care. He'll probably laugh when I tell him some older version of you got some older version of me pregnant."



"ownership - MU smut - R"
"I knew you were coming," Beverly said simply. She hadn't turned around. From the doorway into the hall, she could see his shadow reflecting over her into her dark room. "As soon as I heard he was dead. I knew you were coming."

"Where's the boy?" he asked gruffly. The door hissed and sealed him in.

"Wesley is in the children's barracks on Earth," Beverly answered, burying her fear. Jean-Luc had nothing to gain by killing her son. If he wanted a child, she was still young enough to give him several. He'd hated Jack, but not enough to kill a boy.

Had she hated Jack too? Beverly wasn't sure. Jack had been attractive, ambitious and represented a good way to be relatively safe in the messy, complicated empire. Beverly couldn't risk being alone. She wasn't a fighter in the traditional sense. She was a doctor and she knew how to bide her time. Beverly knew the way to survive lay in emulating the virus and adapting.

Jean-Luc was the captain. He could have whatever woman he wanted as his lover. He'd been content with Vash, the brilliant thief for awhile but she'd died just last year. The retrovirus had been rare, and eventually Beverly had figured out how to stop it. However, not before Vash had died a miserable, convulsing end.

Jean-Luc had watched her go. He had not done it to comfort her, Beverly knew. He did it because he only trusted deaths that he was witness too. Like Jack's accident, her mind screamed.

"Was he close to his father?" Jean-Luc's breath was hot on her neck as he spoke.

"As close as any of us ever are," she murmured in response. Beverly felt herself tense. It wasn't grief, her tears for her husband had been shed. She felt something else. His hand grabbed her waist and pulled her back against him. Through their uniforms she could feel that warm heat of his erection.

He ran his hand around beneath her short black skirt and yanked her panties down hard. "You knew I was coming," he accused, his voice gravel and deep. "You're wet." Jean-Luc pulled up her skirt and dug rough fingers into the skin of her upper thigh.

"You killed my husband," Beverly answered, letting him part her legs and reach up with dry, searching fingers. His free hand grabbed her breast through the thin fabric of her unforgiving uniform top. Crushing the soft tissue against her chest, he kissed the back of her neck. In contrast to his touch, his lips were incredibly soft.

"You let Vash die," he retorted in a growl. "I knew you wanted me." Jean-Luc pulled his hand from her thigh and twisted her roughly. Her short black skirt was up around her waist and her hands landed on his muscular hips.

Beverly tore down his skintight trousers and he lifted her up on the desk. He freed her panties from her ankles and bent her legs up.

"You didn't need to kill my husband to have me," she reminded him. Peeling the vest from his chest, Beverly dragged her nails across his shoulders.

Jean-Luc cuffed her with the back of his hand. Her face stung and his eyes burned as he stared her down. "I do not share."

Beverly grabbed his head and flattened his lips to hers. He tore off her halter. Her tongue was n his mouth as she guided him into her vagina. As soon as the tip of his erection felt the wet heat of her, he needed no further urging.

Rocking into the sensation, she gasped as he filled her. He thrust in again, deeper and grunted, "Open your eyes."

The cold glass of the table faded into the heat of him moving inside her. Jack had been a pirate, ruthless and passionate. Jean-Luc was cold fury, icy and controlled.

Now, he was hers.





ETA word count? 6782! ha!
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