NEW:TNG The Gift 4/6 NC-17 P/C
rebwoods
Author: Becky Woods
Series: TNG
Code: P/C
Parts: 4 of 6
Rating: NC-17
Archive: To ASC only, all others must ask permission
Comments: This story was started 2 years ago as a sort of birthday gift
for the Boncers. I know that at least two other stories with the same
title exist, but it's only fair that each fandom have its own version of
"The Gift." Consider this a P/C version.
For The Panda, Mistress, Luca's Mom, MLP and most of all, the woman who
kept "cracking the whip" and demanding I finish it. Special thanks go
to Mariel for her wonderful beta-ing and to Whip Woman for ideas on how
to get past the difficult bits. And for the Boncers, a very, very
belated happy birthday.
Disclaimer: Sorry, I forgot to provide one for the first 3 parts, so
here goes. Paramount owns all the characters but they were starved for
attention. I borrowed them and let them play with each other for
awhile.
Summary: Beverly does some thinking and planning and comes up with the
perfect gift for the Captain.
Chapter 4
Coming back into the clearing, Picard was suddenly assaulted by smells
of ripening fruit and nectar filled flowers. He pushed the hat off his
head and let it dangle from its chin strap around his neck. Almost
intoxicating in intensity, he stood quietly at the confluence of the
pond and waterfall channel, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright
patches and shaded areas just meters from him and inhaling deep the
sweet air. He now realized just how much he'd ignored his other senses
while working at the dig sight. Not only were birds producing a cheery
symphony above his head, but a host of insects, also unseen but
obviously drawn to the flower and fruit laden trees and vines, added
their own hypnotic harmony.
His smile broadened, entranced by the magnificent beauty all about him.
And again, his thoughts returned to his benefactress, and how she too,
would marvel at this sight.
He tilted his face toward the warm sun, closing his eyes and slowly
exhaling. He should hurry back to his quarters and clean up, then
invite Beverly to join him...perhaps she would enjoy a picnic dinner.
She loved flowers so much; she'd enjoy this. And he could then also
thank her properly for this wonderful gift.
*****
Beverly's eyes widened as he stretched his arms upward toward the sky.
He clasped his hands over his head and flexed, and she could trace with
her eyes every muscle in his powerful arms. Involuntarily, her tongue
tip escaped as he then inhaled deeply, his rib cage and flat abdomen
hugged by his clinging shirt.
*****
Picard slowly lowered his arms, now aware of how sore he was. He'd
spent the entire morning bending and digging and, he chuckled, literally
playing in mud. A nice hot shower and sonic massage would erase all the
aches and pains.
Bubbles from the spring and a sudden change in the gentle breeze's
direction diverted his attention from thoughts of 24th century
conveniences. He pulled at his filthy shirt and examined his sweat and
grime encrusted forearms. No, it would not be very nice to force
his...fragrance...on anyone, especially in a turbolift.
A vigorous burble caught his eye, and an idea formed. Could he? He
looked around the edge of the clearing, then back to the inviting spring
and channel, then at himself. Of course he could; he recalled the
privacy lock engaging when he'd activated the program. He laughed; yet
another thoughtful gesture on Beverly's part.
Decision made, Picard discarded his pack and hat a few meters from the
water's edge, then returned, looking for and finding an easy access spot
on the spring's moss covered bank. He dropped to his knees and extended
a cautious hand toward the water.
Wonderfully warm and inviting at the surface, just centimeters deeper
the water turned cooler, but he could feel eddying currents as the cold
from the waterfall's channel mixed unevenly with the hot spring's
production. He brought up a palm full of the clear blue-green liquid,
then let it drain from his hand, watching as drops clinging precariously
to the top of his hand elongated, then, with a final tug from gravity,
fall into the pool, ripples forming around their point of entry.
At last Picard brought his hands together and scooped up some water and
lowered his face into it. It was wonderful; cool and refreshing and yet
almost a perfect shower temperature. He gathered another hand bowl full
and rinsed his face again, then brought his hands around to his hot,
grimy neck and let the dregs trickle down his back and beneath the
collar of his shirt. Although excited by the discovery of the oasis,
the water was physically invigorating and he could feel his tired
muscles relax and recuperate as he splashed more and more spring water
onto his face and head and down his neck. He then spread out on his
stomach and bracing himself on the mossy incline, dipped his head below
the surface, his shoulders almost touching the water's surface.
Many seconds later, he pushed upward on his arms and brought his head
out, flinging water in every direction as he gasped out, gulping in
air. Down he went again, emerging this time with a mouthful of water
which he spit out in a powerful stream like an energetic waterspout. He
collapsed backward into the thick, green grass, laughing and coughing
heartily.
*****
Beverly clasped her hand tightly over her mouth to keep in her own
laughter. He was like a child playing in his bath water, and she
couldn't help but fall even deeper, knowing her decision had been
right. She waited with rapidly beating heart for his next move.
*****
Eventually, he sat up on his heels, hands on his thighs, eyes closed and
face upturned once again to the sun. He inhaled deeply, feeling alive
and at peace. He could hear the pool and channel chuckling and bubbling
to him, beckoning him to partake of their delights. With a satisfied
sigh, Picard stood, walked to the edge of the pond, and reached for his
sweat and water soaked khaki shirt.
*****
Crusher sat up, leaning almost into the branches, holding her breath as
his hands pulled his shirt from his trousers. He disappeared into the
cloth as he pulled it over his head, and Beverly followed the curve of
his back up to his shoulder blades, the downward angle of his rib cage
and the fleshy rolls around his abdomen as he bent forward to remove the
shirt.
His head popped out, and Beverly once more had to bit her tongue to
stifle her giggles at his unpolished striptease. Gaining control, she
studied his muscular shoulders, the deltoids blending perfectly with the
triceps and biceps, the strength implicit in the arch of trapezius to
collar bone. He dangled the shirt from his fingers and Beverly watched
the shifting of tendons and muscle beneath his skin down to his large
hands.
He turned and tossed the shirt in the direction of his haversack.
Beverly noted with a smile the almost perfect inverted triangular shape
of upper to lower back and how his trousers rode just at the top of his
hips.
A bird called overhead, Picard looked up, and Crusher sat back into the
shadows.
*****
Bending his knees, Picard sat down on the grass and began removing his
boots and socks. He wriggled his toes and worked his feet into the
soft, cool grass as he rolled up the hems of his trousers. When he was
young, he and his best friend Louis would hike to a secluded glen in the
hills above LaBarre. There too, the grass had been silky, a delight in
which to recline, where the air was scented with innumerable wildflowers
and the sky above was clear and high. They'd swim and splash in the
glen's cold pond, then lay in the inviting soft grass and talk of their
dreams and loves.
He scooted forward just enough to dip his feet into the water.
"Aaahhh." Then extending his arms behind him, he allowed the sun's
comforting warmth to caress his chest.
*****
Crusher couldn't help but smile. Even though she had known him for more
than 20 years, Jean-Luc was still such a closed book to her. She had
always guessed that behind that logical, stoic, duty-first exterior,
there beat the heart of a truly sensuous man. Oh, she knew of his love
of music, Shakespeare, painting, and literature. She knew how a sunset
or star field could reduce him almost to tears with their breathtaking
beauty and wonder. How much he did care for and cherish his friends and
how he held on to the lessons of the past and the memories of lost
comrades. Now, though, she was witness to his delight in everything his
senses found pleasurable. In the privacy of this personal paradise, he
could revel in those things that made him a feeling, vital human, and
she could too.
Beverly muffled her giggles as he suddenly kicked his feet, churning the
spring up into a white froth. And just as quickly he stopped and pulled
himself to his feet, taking one more careful look around the oasis,
verifying his privacy. Her giggles stopped in the same second his hands
moved to the fastener of his trousers.
Her heart pounded again and beads of sweat broke out along her hair
line, and she had no doubt that the cause was not due to her hiding
place in the steamy vegetation. She forced herself to breathe as his
thumbs hooked into the waistband and pulled and tugged both his briefs
and the muddy dark olive trousers down over his hips and legs.
In vivid contrast to his suntanned arms and neck, his buttocks and back
and legs were pale. But as he stepped out of the clothing and stooped
to pick it up, she couldn't help but be thrilled by his powerful thighs
and shapely calves, the wonderful curve of his tight backside and slim,
masculine hips.
He turned and walked back to where his other discards were and Beverly's
mouth opened, expelling a wispy gasp, and she couldn't help but stare.
Yes, she'd been his doctor for almost 10 years and yes, she'd had plenty
of opportunities to "examine" him. But always she'd been able to
heartlessly suppress even the most minute trace of physical attraction
she might ever have allowed herself to feel for this man. But now, she
could look at him with undisguised desire and, she admitted, lust.
He stood there, neatly folding the filthy clothes, completely unaware of
how his stance and posture made it so easy for her to study his physical
attributes.
Beverly forced her eyes upward. His sharp features had always been
attractive to her, from the intriguing slant of his eyes to his sharp
cheekbones and dimpled chin, down to his collar bones and chest. He
wasn't a very big man, bulk wise, but he prided himself in keeping
himself physically fit, and the curve of his pectorals attested to that
fact. Masses of grey-white curls spread outward from the center of his
chest, followed the contour of skin and muscle and ended in still black
circles around his slightly erect, brown-pink nipples.
She tried to stop it, but she could feel saliva dampening her mouth in
expectation. Flutters spread a delicious warmth through her body and
she couldn't help but squirm anxiously on her rocky perch.
Her eyes traced the dark hair down the center of his abdomen, pausing at
his deep navel. His stomach was flat, firm, each muscle defined and
inviting.
Crusher removed the sweat gathering along her upper lip with a flick of
her tongue. She was almost to the point of hypersensitivity; every
sound, every smell suddenly acute and distinct. Her pulse pounded and
she could feel the touch of her clothes upon her skin, knew her nipples
rubbed against her soaked tank top, felt the insistent and almost
uncomfortable dampness along the juncture of thigh and abdomen. She
lowered her eyes down his body. Tight, dark curls descended from his
navel, framing him, and moved onto his muscular thighs.
He was beautiful to look at, she had to admit, and endowed more
generously than most of the men with whom she'd been acquainted.
Although she knew this didn't necessarily equate with skills as a lover,
she couldn't help but believe that with this man, it would. Maybe it
was just that she was so ready for this, having thought about it and
wondered about it and fantasized about it for too, too long. He was
slightly erect, the combination of warm sun and cool breeze prompting
the involuntary response, and she let go of a branch long enough to wipe
her damp palm against her thigh and flex her fingers. Touching him,
holding him and having him reciprocate was all she wanted to occupy her
entire being with.
Picard turned back to the pond, stepping to its edge and studying the
water. Beverly let out a flabbergasted, "Oh my!" as he just as quickly
retreated and with three energetic strides, and as enthusiastic a
scream, took a flying leap into the air. He grabbed his knees and
cannon balled into the water, sending a responding spray vertically the
air. Her laughter and surprise were masked by pelting water and his
loud sputter and "whoop" as he emerged. Again clasping both hands over
her mouth to hold back her response, her eyes crinkled up merrily as he
splashed and flopped about in the water.
He tucked and descended, Beverly catching only his backside, legs, and
feet as he upended himself in an effort, she guessed, to touch the
spring's bottom. He came to the surface once again with a loud gasp,
performed an almost unnerving "dead-man's" float, then stroked smoothly
and skillfully several times back and forth across the spring's
diameter. She could just see his head, bobbing just above the water's
once again smooth surface, as he returned to the center of the pond
where it was deepest and tread water.
*****
He concentrated on keeping his head above water but was finding it hard
to do. All around him, he could feel jets of hot water welling up from
the spring's bottom but the rapid influx of colder water from the
waterfall's channel immediately mollified their intensity. It was a
marvelous sensation, one that coaxed out all the knots and tightness
from his fatigued muscles, relaxing him so thoroughly that he had to
shake his head several times to keep from dozing off right there in the
water. Conversely, the hot and cold streams surrounding him stirred his
blood in a way which made him cease his treading and head for the more
uniformly cold water.
*****
Beverly leaned forward into the brush and watched intently as he
suddenly ceased his treading and stroked toward the channel. She
swallowed hungrily as he pulled himself out of the deeper water and up
the submerged bank to the adjoining canal. Water glistened and dripped
off his lean body as he first took a few tentative steps, the flex and
pull of his muscles distinct as he strained against the thigh deep
current. With some effort, and a display which only entranced Beverly
even more, he disappeared into the dense vegetation guarding the
waterfall.
And now for the trickiest part of her plan.
Crusher left the safety of her hiding spot and moved carefully through
the undergrowth, her eyes darting every few seconds to where Jean-Luc
had disappeared. As the surrounding jungle veered toward the pond, she
was steadily moving closer to his discarded clothes. And if her luck
held, when he reemerged, she would be in the perfect place to give him
the final part of his birthday present. She crouched just inside the
shadows of the overhanging brush and waited as patiently as her own
desires permitted.
**End Part 4**