Title:
Held in Cleopatra's Grip
Author: Whoa Nellie
Contact:
[email protected]
Series: TNG
Rating:
NC-17
Codes:
P/V
Summary:
PWP with a reversal in the usual Cat and Mouse games between Vash and
Picard. This story was originally
posted to ASC November 4, 2009.
As
always: Paramount owns all the marbles. We just have a lot more fun playing
with them.
Feedback
is always appreciated, posted or e-mail.
Whoa
Nellie's Romance Star Trek Fan Fiction Stories
http://whoanellie.fortunecity.com
Held
in Cleopatra's Grip
"I'm sorry I can't help you
with this, Professor. I haven't
finished my certification yet," Karita Leigh sighed, leaning forward
toward the comm. "There has been
so much to do and I figured that I had until the Enterprise F was ready to
launch."
"You do, so don't worry
about it, Karita; it was a spur of the moment thing." Archaeology Councilmember Vash Picard
assured her assistant. "It would still
be a huge help if you could take over my classes for the last four weeks of the
semester."
"Not a problem. I'll take care of everything here on
campus," the younger woman answered.
"Thank you, Karita,"
Vash shut off the comm. She sat back in
the desk chair, lost in thought. Her
eyes drifted from the PADDS in front of her to travel over the elegant décor of
the study in the Picard ancestral home.
She turned to look at the nineteenth century painting behind her, a
portrait of Jean-Luc's ancestor who had fought for the French at
Trafalgar. She always found the
resemblance to her husband quite striking.
She addressed the painting in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Well, I
am going to need an assistant whom I can trust and he's going to be elated at the
opportunity; but let's not tell him that."
Captain Jean-Luc Picard walked
into the study to find his wife quietly staring at the painting with a coy
smile on her face as if sharing a private joke with his ancestor. "Chere?"
"Jean-Luc, you're
home." Vash turned to face him.
His Starfleet uniform, black with slate grey shoulders and burgandy
tunic, emphasized his lean, muscular build.
The closely-trimmed, grey hair at his temples framed his handsome,
chiseled features and his piercing eyes.
The firm set of his mouth was gently pulled by the warm, barely-there
smile that he seemed to reserve for her alone.
She noticed he was carrying the case that held his favorite foil. "Fencing, I see."
"I agreed to give Chakotay
fencing lessons," he replied setting down the case.
"In exchange for --"
she prompted.
"A few pointers in the
boxing ring." Seeing her
speculative expression, he added, "It's a demanding discipline, called the
gentlemen's sport . . ."
"That's not it," she interrupted
his explanation, her gaze traveling over him appreciatively. "I was trying to decide which I'd
rather watch, the heroic sight of you and Chakotay swashing your buckles or the
more primal virility of the two of you in the ring with your masculine
physiques glistening."
"It is cosmically
unjust," he chuckled while walking over to her and leaning down across the
desk to kiss the top of her nose.
"If I or Will or Chakotay had suggested watching you ladies engage
in physical activity we'd be called at best, Peeping Toms, or at worst, dirty
old men."
"It's good to be the
queen," she bantered saucily.
Taking in all the PADDs on the
desk, he asked, "So, what are you working on?"
"I've been contacted by Dr.
Bergen, the curator of Alexandria's Underwater Museum." She handed him one of the PADDs.
He took the PADD. "I'm familiar with the museum. It has simply amazing exhibits where you can
view many artifacts from ancient Alexandria still underwater at the site where
they were first found on the bed of the bay.
I believe the exhibits include many artifacts thought to be remnants of
Cleopatra's palace."
"Yes. I spent a little time at the museum during
my graduate studies. Maintaining the
exhibits can be quite tricky. You have
to be very careful not to damage or disturb the artifacts while doing further
excavations or while building new and maintaining current exhibits that are
right there at the site," she explained.
"Not to mention the added
degree of difficulty of doing all this underwater," he surmised.
"The bay's murky waters must be recycled and
cleaned regularly or it obscures the view of the artifacts. At the moment the museum has one excavation
on the site in progress, a new exhibit in the final stages of completion and
routine maintenance scheduled on three other exhibits. They are finding themselves short
handed. Citing my extensive expertise
in excavating in inhospitable environments, Dr. Bergen has inquired if I would
be willing to supervise the new excavation so that the rest of the work can be
completed on schedule." She stood
up and walked around the desk to stand next to him. Leaning back against the massive piece of furniture, she continued,
"Karita hasn't quite finished her dive certification yet, so she'll be
staying on campus to take over my classes for the remainder of the
semester. I'm not even leaving the
planet, but this still has me in the field without my own assistant for the
first time in more than a few years. I
know it sounds somewhat spoiled, but it's amazing how fast you get used to
having those little perks."
His artificial heart nearly
short-circuited when her words sank in.
Picard thought back to the opportunity that Louis had offered him to
direct the Atlantis project and how close he came to accepting it. The opportunity to combine archaeology and
the open sea was tantalizing; to do so with his favorite archaeologist was
downright delectable. As his mind
raced, his gaze discreetly swept over Vash.
The delicate material of her lavender blouse followed her body like a
second skin, trailing over the lush curves of her breasts and down her flat
stomach to her slim waist. The silk and
tiny pearl buttons rose and fell with her every breath beckoning to him to uncover
the familiar sweetness hidden beneath.
The darker plum skirt clung to hourglass curve of her hips and skimmed
her thighs setting off her long shapely legs encased in very sheer silk
stockings. She was absentmindedly
tapping the heel of one graceful pump on the hardwood floor. He tried to sound casual when he spoke. "At the moment, there really isn't
anything pressing onboard the new Enterprise that would require my
attention. I would hate to think of you
toiling away underwater without an assistant given that I happen to be a
certified dive master. Granted, it is a
recreational certification and not a scientific certification like yours, but I
wouldn't be entirely useless to you.
I'll admit that I would find the chance to actually work on the site of
the ancient city of Alexandria exhilarating."
"Exhilarating,
huh?" Vash turned toward him to
trace his rank pips with her index finger.
"Wow, that almost sounded nonchalant, Jean-Luc—not quite, but I'll
give you the E for effort. Also, you'd
get better results with a little more of a hopeful puppy expression and a lot
less leering. I will be carrying out
very complicated dives, not snorkeling in a string bikini like off the coast of
the Bahamas on your last leave."
"If I recall, you almost
lost part of that bikini while snorkeling," he reminisced fondly while
trailing his fingertips down the slender line of her throat to the top button
of her shirt.
She firmly suppressed an urge to
purr. It simply wouldn't do to cave in
so quickly. "You're not helping
your case here, Captain. And we haven't
even started on your litany of archaeological sins . . ." she trailed off
when he reached up to brush the back of his fingers over her cheek in a tender
caress.
"My heart is ever at your
service," he employed a deep resonating whisper and an obscure quote from
the Bard. This was quite the departure
from their usual erotic negotiations and he was trying to recall Vash's
assorted tactics and duplicate them.
"The Iconian gateway,"
she continued, attempting to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in her
stomach at the rich timber of his voice.
"Je t' adore." Whenever he tried to use logic in arguments
with Vash, she ignored reason and used seduction to distract him. His hand moved to run his fingers through
the silky curtain of brunette hair that hung to her shoulders, perfectly
framing her lovely features. Combing
the tresses aside, he leaned in to nuzzle the delicate skin of her neck pleased
by her sharp inhale as his mouth found the pulse point just below her ear.
"Stone of Gol," she
gasped her head rolling back baring her throat to him. She arched into the sensations, one leg
moving up to wrap around his hip, which raised the hem of her skirt to a
precarious level.
Picard slipped his hand beneath
her skirt to slide over the silky stockings that covered her legs. Tightly grasping her thigh, he pulled her
even harder against him. "You've got great legs."
She knew the softly murmured comment was more to
himself than to her, but that didn't diminish the feel of his masterful voice
reverberating against the tender skin of her neck. The boy wasn't playing fair, if he'd spend a little time trying
to rebut the litany, it might be easier for her to stay focused. "The Tox Uthat."
"I promise to behave
myself," he usurped her own often-used pledge just before teasing her
pulse point with swift, teasing flicks of his tongue. He knew that doing that always drove her to distraction, much the
same way her caressing his rank pips bothered him.
"I can't risk have you call a code fourteen
because the lighthouse might fall into the hands of Octavian's invading
forces," she parried even as shivers of desire raced along her spine.
"And if I beg you to take
me?"
Pushing herself back from him,
she adjusted the hem of her skirt back to a respectable level and advised him
in a seductive tone, "that's usually my line and you're using it way too
early in the game."
He watched as she turned and
left the room, enjoying the view of her shapely legs and the delightful sway of
her hips. After a moment, he followed
and caught up with her just at the foot of the staircase. "The Caesar of the stars and the
Cleopatra to worship him," he used one of her favorite quotes from a
biography of James Kirk in his best theatrical voice. Seeing her pause, he continued suavely, "so my beautiful
queen is returning to her palace to await the completion of her newest royal
barge."
"That's it?" Vash inquired saucily as she turned back to
face him. She casually leaned back
against the wall. "That's all you
got, Captain?"
"That's all I got?" he
echoed with feigned indignation. He
decided that he preferred being the cat in their little games and it was time
to play his game his way. Swiftly
closing the distance between them, he spanned her slender waist and growled
playfully, "I've got something more for you."
Vash felt her feet leave the
floor as he lifted her from the ground, pinning her against the wall and
forcing her to gaze down into his penetrating eyes. Her hands gripped the corded muscles of his upper arms through
the sleeves of his uniform. His
formidable strength made any escape impossible and her entire body flared into
a highly charged state of anticipation.
His mouth captured hers in a fiercely impassioned kiss. A soft moan escaped her as his mouth took
possession of hers, his tongue forcing its way inside to plunder and pillage
the moist cavern. The taste of his kiss
combined with the clean, masculine scent of his aftershave causing the fluttering
in her stomach to harden into a tight knot of need. He slowly lowered her back down until her feet were on the floor
then he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her body tight against his. She melted into his embrace, her body
perfectly molding to his at every point from her breasts against the hard wall
of his chest to the intertwining of their legs.
With a series of brief,
feather-like kisses, his mouth finally left her passion-swollen lips. He easily swept her slender frame into his
arms to carry her up the stairs. There
was a hint of amusement tingeing his bedroom baritone when he knowingly
offered, "Shall we discuss the issue further?"
"Absolutely," Vash
purred encircling his neck with her arms.
She let her head fall to rest on his shoulder with her body snug against
the solid anchor of his masculine form.
He made his way to their bedroom and set her down on her feet next to
the large four-poster bed. She held his
gaze while unbuttoning the top three buttons on her blouse to expose a hint of
the curves beneath. She paused in her
actions when his hands entangled in her hair, pulling her closer. Her lips opened pliantly under his as his
mouth again found hers for a long, deep kiss.
"Allow me," he
murmured against her mouth. Breaking
the kiss, he pulled back and just waited.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open, peering up at him through dark
lashes. The sensual heat emanating from
those incredible blue eyes along with the come-hither expression on her lovely
face created a seductive invitation that was dizzying. His gaze followed his fingertips along her
smooth cheek and down the graceful arch of her neck. He slowly traced a fingertip from the hollow of her throat down
the creamy softness bared by the three open buttons of her blouse. Reaching the fourth button, his fingers
moved lingeringly down to open each button in its turn. He brought his hands up to push the silk
off the feminine slope of her shoulders.
His hands slid down her arms as he slowly slipped the blouse lower until
he drew the delicate material from her body, exposing the creamy mounds of her
breasts jutting evocatively against the lines of her white lace brassiere.
Vash struggled to recall just
who wanted what in this round of their erotic cat and mouse game. "You wanted something?" she
inquired in a passion-laced whisper.
Teased by his languid touch, her breasts swelled and the peaks stiffened
to attention, demanding in their need.
She took his hands, guiding them up her body to cup her breasts. The sensitive peaks tingled as they pressed
into the heat from the palms of his hands.
"Only to be of
service," Picard replied in his best bedroom baritone. He delighted in the way her head rolled back
with a low moan in response to his hands caressing her breasts. His thumbs circled the taut nipples trapped
beneath the lace of her brassiere.
Unhooking the delicate garment, he stripped it from her body. His pulse quickened at the vision of her
breasts with their lush roundness and ivory skin tipped with deep rosy
peaks. His hands slowly journey down
the smooth skin of her flat stomach to unfastening the waistband of her
skirt. A heated surge of arousal rushed
through him as the skirt glided past her hips and down the length of her legs
to pool at her feet. With her standing
before him clad only in high heels, silk stockings and panties, he once again
found himself completely captivated by this woman's transformation from
accomplished scientist to sultry sex goddess.
His body tightened, instantly growing painfully hard from the incredibly
erotic notion. Tamping down firmly on
his own desires, he reminded himself that he still had a mission to complete
and wondered at Vash's self-control that she played this role so effortlessly
on a regular basis—and won more rounds than she lost to him.
She bit her lower lip as she
stepped out of the skirt, her attention riveted on the man in front of
her. Her hands trailed down his uniform
jacket, deftly unfastening each clasp.
She slipped her hands inside the open jacket to push it off of his
shoulders and drop it to the floor. His
tunic was quickly sent to join it there.
Her hands found the waistband of his trousers, her fingers tugging at his
T-shirt to pull it free and strip it off over his head. She stroked and caressed his skin, marveling
at the tightly leashed strength contained in the corded muscles of his lean
body. The play of the strong muscles
beneath her fingertips inflamed her senses.
Belatedly she remembered that she wasn't the one asking for something here. "What services are you offering?"
"Any service you're in need
of, your every wish would be my command," Picard offered. With her head bent forward slightly, her
dark hair fell softly to brush his shoulder while her small hands sensuously moved
over his chest driving his arousal up another notch.
"Can I get that in
writing?' Her hands paused in their
exploration of his rippling pectorals as her well-honed negotiation skills
kicked in. He swept her up again only to
unceremoniously drop her onto the soft bedding while half-chuckling,
half-grumbling to himself under his breath.
She rose up on one elbow.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
"Alluring witch. I said
alluring witch," he laughed low in his throat while he removed his boots
and trousers.
Her eyes drifted down along the
tapering lines of his torso, admiring the taut strength of his stomach as he
shoved his trousers off to expose the hard length of his arousal. She wet her lips with the very tip of her
tongue before giving him just a hint of a smile. "Of course, that's what I thought you said."
"You've often pointed out
that we make a wonderful team." He
returned to pleading his case as he joined her on the bed. Savoring the sweet taste of her skin, his mouth
canvassed the silken expanse of her chest, his tongue lavishing attention on
the swell of her breasts before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her
cleavage. His lips imprisoned the taut
nipple of one of her breasts, leisurely swirling his tongue over the stiff
peak. It wasn't easy to beg with your
mouth full, so he let his actions speak for him. He nipped lightly at the hardened crest then began suckling
strongly, feeling her twist beneath him.
Her counterargument was a bit
breathless. "That is usually
followed by you pointing out that I am trouble." She cupped his head in her hands and drew him in as close as she
could, feeling the sharp ache grow as he again suckled first one breast and
then the other. The coarse rasp of his
tongue dragging roughly against her sensitive skin along with the pull of his
mouth sent a rush of liquid heat flooding through her. "And you, my dear Captain are more than
a little bit of trouble at archaeology sites—trouble with a capital E—as in
explosions."
"I thought you were a woman
who enjoyed handling my trouble," Picard countered with a note of pride in
his voice at successfully reversing one of their classic exchanges. One hand skimmed down the flat plane of her
stomach only to stop just above the top of her panties. There was no doubt about what he'd
find. "You're already wet,
Vash."
"Yes," she admitted
with a low moan, unable to deny the fierce demands his touch always ignited in
her. The teasing heat of his hand laying
flat against her bare stomach caused her hips to arch in a silent invitation.
"Your lovely body is aching
for mine." He lightly traced the
edges where the wisp of lace met skin.
"Je suis a toi, Jean-Luc," she vowed, his
feather-light touch tightening the knot of desire in her stomach so tight her
whole body quivered.
"Tu es ma joie de vivre," he answered in a
throaty whisper, slipping her panties down the length of her legs discarding
the garment to the floor. He allowed
only his fingertips to penetrate the damp folds of flesh with a very light
caress. The evidence of her escalating
desires bathed his fingers and he increased the pressure, dipping into the
dripping wet depths of her body before returning to manipulate the swollen bud
of her arousal.
"Oh God . . . more . . . God, yes . . . harder,
. . . faster," Vash gasped mindless of anything but the exquisite pleasure
washing over her. With the accomplished
skill of a maestro, Jean-Luc was taking her closer and closer to the peak of
ecstasy. The pleasure continued to
build, his fingers sliding in and out of her as his thumb stroked her to
feverish delight. The pressure of his
thumb increased and he sped up the tempo of the fingers inside her. Every muscle in her body straining, reaching
for the pinnacle, she was close, so close.
The sensations suddenly stopped causing her to whimper in
frustration. He moved between her
thighs bracing himself with his arms against the bed on either side of her
shoulders hovering above her. Her body
pulsated wildly, tormented by the erotic pressure of his arousal, hot and hard,
pushing against her. Having left her on
the razor's edge of a release, the first thrust of his body into hers is all it
would take. Their earlier game was
forgotten, nothing but sating her all-consuming need for him mattered. She begged wantonly, "s`il vous plait,
Mon Capitaine, prends moi."
"Oh I'll take you, ma chere," he assured
her wolfishly. She was never more
radiant than when she was at the peak of ecstasy. The very provocative sight fueled his own ardent desires. Steeling his resolve, he pushed his own
ravenous appetite aside. "As soon
as you promise to take me with you."
"I promise . . . to take
you to the site with me . . . I promise," she panted in desperation her hands
tightly grasping his shoulders. Her
gaze locked with his and she found her own raw carnal hunger reflected back at
her from those piercing eyes.
"La victoire est à
moi," he growled triumphantly, entering her with one deep, powerful
thrust, his body completely filling hers.
He felt her buck strongly beneath him, throwing her head back and crying
out his name as she orgasmed. Sweat
beaded on his brow and he took in deep breaths, struggling for control while
holding himself completely still. The slick
depths of her body were so hot and tight, frantically clutching at him in
uncontrolled passion. He reveled in the
waves of pleasure that washed over him, her body trembling from her release. He knew her body, its every response, and
those familiar signals of her passion told him there was still so much
more. Allowing her no respite, he
unleashed the tight rein he had held on his own needs and set a cadence that
was a rhythm of furious intensity.
Small noises came from the back of her throat while the supple curves of
her body twisted, writhing impatiently beneath him. Fiercely, he pounded into her, driving himself deep inside her
with each stroke. The carnal ache in his
hips sharpened with each thrust, inciting him to move faster and faster and she
kept pace, challenging him for even more.
It didn't take much longer before her body clamped spasmodically around
him and a primal scream ripped from her throat as a second, powerful orgasm
seized her. It was the feel of her body
once again gripping his that shattered his control. With one, last, powerful thrust, he held himself buried inside
her while his own, explosive release tore through him.
Vash welcomed Jean-Luc's weight
as he collapsed against her. Her body
still quivering, she shifted comfortably beneath the weight of her husband
running her hands over the strong muscles of his back. Still gasping for breath, she chuckled,
"Damn, Johnny, I love the way you negotiate."
**FINIS**