Title: While Waiting
Author: Whoa Nellie ([email protected])
Series: TNG
Rating: NC-17
Codes: P/Vash
Summary: Ever wonder what happened after Vash was taken to spend the night in the dungeon with Picard (occurs during the episode Qpid). This story was originally posted to ASC on September 17, 1998.
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
"Damn dress!" Vash cursed, struggling to her feet after being thrown into the dungeon at Nottingham castle. Staring glumly at the stone walls and floor, she was very vexed with Jean-Luc for getting her into this mess in the first place. Along one wall was a small, narrow bunk with coarse wool bedding; the room was dimly lit from several torches on the walls and moonlight coming in from the small, barred window near the high ceiling of the room. Underneath the window was a crudely made table and chair. She could smell something awful being prepared in the Castle's kitchen directly above and the heat from the ovens permeated from the stone.
From the shadows, Captain Jean-Luc Picard watched as the beautiful archaeologist fussed with her long, pink satin gown. She seemed rather annoyed with the costume that Q had chosen for her role as Maid Marion. Trimmed in white, the high neckline and empire bodice of the dress gave Vash an almost chaste, if not downright virginal, appearance. Normally, her brunette hair fell loosely to her shoulders. Now, thanks to Q, it was pulled back into two plaits of braids that fell down her back just past her hips. Her vivid blue eyes were blazing with anger.
"I take it the wedding is off," Picard said dryly as he stepped out of the shadow.
"I was trying to contact Riker for help," Vash shot back, glaring across the room at Picard. "Of course, it wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't been trying to play hero."
"Did you manage to get a message to him?" he asked, lowering his voice.
"No," she sighed, walking across the room to flop down on the bunk. "But I got to meet your friend when he decided to pay me a surprise visit."
"Q," Picard huffed with annoyance.
"This is extremely uncomfortable," Vash lamented as she squirmed on the bunk.
"We are in a dungeon, Vash," he pointed out, somewhat sarcastically.
"I wasn't talking about that, Captain. Granted, it is a little warm in here, but it is clean and dry," Vash retorted. Then pulling at the high neckline of the gown, she complained, "This confounded dress is strangling me. No wonder women in this time period fainted all the time. They couldn't breathe!"
"I see," he said simply.
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what all this is about?" Vash looked up at him expectantly. Running a hand through the grey hair at his temple, Jean-Luc started to explain about Q and their current situation. Vash took the opportunity to study Jean-Luc dressed as Robin Hood; covering his hard, lean torso was a collarless V-neck white shirt and green doublet, that belted, hung just past his hips. His powerfully muscular legs were clad in green trunk hose and brown leather boots and his handsome chiseled features now sported a closely trimmed, salt and peppered mustache and goatee. The green felt cap, with feather, that he had worn earlier had been tossed onto the table. When he finished his explanation, Vash just shook her head and asked, "Are you telling me that this Q told you he has no control over what happens and that at noon tomorrow this whole thing ends, no matter what?"
"Presumably," Picard nodded.
"You realize that if you had only listened to me, we would have beaten him," Vash said. She stood up and walked over to the table to look out the small window.
"Excuse me?" he asked incredulously as his grey eyes went wide. "How the devil do you figure that?"
"Once you found out I was all right, you should have headed back to Sherwood forest and played with your precious little sword," Vash told him, staring out the window. "At noon tomorrow, if I hadn't managed to escape, I would have gone through with this little mock wedding; then poof, we would have all been back on the Enterprise. No blood, no foul!"
"I was just trying to protect . . ." Picard started.
"Protect what?! My life?! I had already talked my way out of the execution!" Vash interrupted with a caustic verbal barrage. "My virginity?! Oh please, you more than anyone else should know that that is long gone. Or was it my honor, trying to save me from the unwanted advances of Sir Guy. I realize that at the moment I look like a cross between Mary Poppins and Rapunzel; however, I can take care of myself. The fact that we are lovers does not give you territorial rights over my body!"
She had hit a nerve, this woman was going to drive him insane. Clenching his fists as well as his jaw, Picard sputtered, "I never suggested it did! You are the most stubborn, irresponsible, annoying, infuriating . . ." he trailed off as he noticed that Vash had climbed on the table. Jumping up, she grabbed one of the bars on the window and was now hanging on the window ledge. Was this woman trying to kill herself? "Just what the hell are you doing now?"
"Testing to see if any of these bars can be worked loose," she gasped as she twisted at one of the bars.
Picard watched Vash's lithe frame dangle precariously from the window ledge. He swallowed the urge to offer her some assistance, instead he quietly moved to stand where he could catch her if she started to fall. As one of her hands slipped off the bar, she uttered one of the most vulgar, sexually explicit, Ferengi oaths Picard had ever heard. Shaking his head, he sighed, "Oh, now that was very feminine, very ladylike."
"Well then, how about this?" Vash asked flippantly. With the grace and agility of a cat, she dropped to the table and then to the floor to stand in front of Picard. She added in perfectly fluent French, "Go fornicate yourself and the equine you journeyed here on!"
"Lovely pronunciation, ma chere," he retorted sarcastically. "Are you going to tell me why you took my sword or was I really a wedding present for Sir Guy?"
"Don't be absurd, Picard," Vash berated him. "I had intended for both of us to be long gone before any of that could occur."
"Then why did you take my sword?" he asked sharply.
"Did it ever occur to you that I might care what happens to you?" Vash demanded, real anger in her voice. Turning away from him, she finished, "Maybe, I didn't want to see you die again?"
Picard took her by the arm and turned her back around to face him. "What do you mean again?" he asked in a whisper, half afraid he knew.
"Does Stardate 44001.4 mean anything to you?" Vash snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself, determined that she wasn't going to let her feelings for this man get the best of her, again.
"The Borg." Picard stepped back and gasped in shock, that was the Stardate he was captured in battle by the Borg.
"I was on a cruiseship heading back from Sarthong V when Starfleet declared you missing in action and presumed dead. They called you a hero and a casualty of war. I locked myself in my stateroom and cried. I hate to cry, so I do it very rarely. But, I cried over you, you bastard, for three days nonstop. And that's why I took your damn sword," Vash told him bitterly.
"Vash, I'm sorry." Picard said quietly. It was obvious she had never intended to admit any of that to him. "I had no idea that . . ."
"I felt that way. No Captain, I'm sure you didn't," Vash interrupted him. As she turned away and headed back over to the bunk, she fumed, "However, right now I feel that you, along with every male member of every sentient species, should be kept in underground caverns and used exclusively for breeding purposes."
"I think that's just a little extreme," Picard muttered under his breath as he watched her sit down on the bunk and turn her back to him. She was tired, angry and hurt; he really couldn't blame her. She had only been trying to protect him the same way he had been trying to protect her. Sitting down in the chair, he decided it was probably a good idea to let her cool off a bit.
Sometime later, Picard heard the satin of Vash's long gown rustling as she moved from the bunk. He looked up from where he was sitting to see Vash walk over to stare out the small window. He thought about how captivating she looked standing there in the moonlight. 'Lovely creature' is what he remembered Sir Guy calling her; of course, what business did that lecherous old man have chasing after her. 'Physician heal thy self,' Picard thought with a small self-depreciating smile. 'Vash was born several years after you took command of the Stargazer.'
Out of the corner of her eye, Vash caught Jean-Luc's small smile and her features softened. Shaking her head, she sighed, "What?"
"A cross between Mary Poppins and Rapunzel, huh?" Picard chuckled as he teased her gently.
"I'm not sure what is more irritating, the hairstyle or the dress; but I wouldn't laugh too hard, Captain. You look more like Peter Pan than Robin Hood," Vash teased back. "For someone who claims to be omnipotent, Q's historical accuracy leaves something to be desired."
"If I was Peter Pan, that would make you Wendy. Q probably got the idea for this farce from my own mind. He likes to annoy me by doing that," Picard pointed out. His eyes traveled over the delicate curves of her frame appreciatively.
"This is your perception of the Robin Hood legend? Who taught your history classes at the academy, Captain? The Brother's Grimm? Mother Goose?" Vash giggled, "or maybe Walt Disney?"
"You have a beautiful laugh," he noted huskily.
Vash felt her face flush slightly at his tone. After everything that had happened, was it possible that he still wanted her? She continued to stare out the window, avoiding eye contact with him. Trying to feign casualness, she idly caressed the feather from his Robin Hood cap.
"I think I need to stretch my legs," Picard said suddenly, changing the subject. He stood up and paced over to the far side of the room. Leaning against the wall and lost in thought, he regarded her from across the room. What was it about Vash that drove him to total distraction? No woman had ever been as quick at arousing his anger or his sexual desire, it seemed to him as if one minute they were bickering and the very next minute they were in the throes of lust. With a start, he realized that Vash was undoing the clasps on the back of her gown. He felt his pulse speed up, there was only so much a man could stand and she was way too tempting as it was. Managing to keep the panic out of his voice, he asked, "Vash, what are you doing?"
"I'm taking off this damn, pink, satin straight-jacket," Vash explained, without looking at him. She was going to get comfortable, if that upset the good captain's sensibilities, well that was just too damned bad! Undoing the last clasp, she pulled the dress from her shoulders and sighed with relief as the gown dropped to the floor, leaving her dressed in only a short, white, linen chemise with stockings and shoes. She kicked her shoes off and stepped out of the dress. She bent over to strip off the stockings and picked up the dress. Standing back up, she laid the dress neatly across the table. She gazed out almost longingly at the moonlight with both hands behind her massaging the small of her back.
Picard's gaze slowly trailed up her curvaceous silhouette. His breath caught in his throat when she bent over and the already-too-short chemise rode up her long, shapely legs until it just barely covered the roundness of her backside. The muscles of his body tensed in an ardent response to the way the flimsy material clung to the flare of her hips, the slimness of her waist and the graceful arch of her spine. The memory of their lovemaking the other night was still vivid. He could almost feel her soft, supple curves writhing beneath him as she moaned his name, begging for more. Forcing the image from his mind, he decided he had to put an stop to this, now. He put his hands behind his back, clenching them together tightly, as he walked to stand just behind her.
"Vash, please," he implored her quietly. He could faintly smell what was left of her delicate perfume.
Vash's body tingled at the sound of his deep, resonating whisper and the warmth of his breath of her neck. The sensation spread across her breasts and the peaks hardened, pushing against the linen of her chemise. Slowly, she turned to face him and softly asked, "Please what, Jean?"
Picard closed his eyes and took a very deep breath. "Would you please put the dress back on?" he responded in a low voice, carefully enunciating each word.
"I'm more comfortable like this," Vash's protest was barely audible. Her arms dropped to her sides and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. With his hands clasped behind his back, the fabric of his shirt pulled tightly across the corded muscles of his shoulders and upper arms.
"I really think it would be best if you put the dress back on," Picard insisted in a hoarse whisper. The front of the chemise was loosely laced up by a satin ribbon. The firm, lush curves of her breasts were exposed between the lacings and the hardened peaks taunted him through the thin material. He shifted as the muscles of his body tightened almost unbearably.
Vash's attention skittered downward, Jean-Luc's desire for her was obvious beneath the trunk hose he was wearing. She knew what he wanted and the idea caused her to flush with excitement. Looking up at him through her lashes, she cooed, "What do you really want?"
"Regardless, this is not the time or place," Picard admitted, albeit reluctantly. His voice held a rough edge and his hands were still clenched tightly behind his back.
"Do you mean this isn't the time for me to make myself comfortable or do you mean this isn't the place for what you really want?" Vash responded breathlessly, looking up into his handsome, chiseled features.
Staring directly into his desire-hardened grey eyes, she brought her hands up and splayed them across the hard expanse of his chest. "You want me anyway, don't you?"
Picard nodded, feeling her slide her small hands down his torso, undoing the ties of his green doublet as she went. Reaching his waist, she began to unhook the heavy leather belt that held his scabbard. The belt fell to the floor, unnoticed.
"Tell me," Vash challenged him seductively, her hands resting at his waist. Through the thin material of his shirt she could feel the taut muscles of his stomach. She repeatedly brushed her lips against the coarse hair on his chin.
The caress of her full, lush lips over his chin was his undoing. With a half-muttered curse in French, he cupped her face with his hands, his thumbs resting against the base of her chin, forcing her head back. His lips descended on hers in a fiercely urgent kiss. His tongue plunged between her parted lips, boldly laying claim to everything in its path.
Vash deepened the kiss further, her lips and tongue responding fervently to his. She reached up to push the doublet off his broad shoulders; he dropped his arms to his sides and the doublet slid to the floor. Without breaking contact with his lips, she managed to strip his shirt from him and drop it to the floor to join his belt and doublet. Ending the kiss, she took a step back to catch her breath and admire the masculine strength of Jean-Luc's body. Her eyes drifted over the lean, sculpted muscles of his chest, shoulders and arms. As her eyes continued downward past the tapering lines of his waist and hips to his powerful thighs, she noticed the way his rock-hard body strained impressively against the trunk hose. She looked up and her eyes locked with his.
Pulling her back into his arms, Picard captured her lips in another deep, scorching kiss. His hands slid up her body to caress her full breasts through the thin fabric of the chemise. He heard her moan softly as his thumbs drew slow circles around the hardened peaks. Impatiently, he wove his fingers into the satin ribbon that held the chemise closed.
Vash broke the kiss and looked up into Jean-Luc's eyes. Slowly, seductively, she stepped back. With Jean-Luc still holding the ends of the ribbon in his fingers, the gentle pull of her movement undid the chemise to slowly reveal her bare flesh underneath. The material slid from her body to settle to the floor with a sigh. In a whisper laced with passion, Vash coaxed, "Tell me, Jean-Luc. Tell me what you want."
"Oh Christ, I want you!" he breathed as his heated gaze swept over her. She was an exquisite sight, with the moonlight washing over her ivory satin skin and the feminine curves of her delicate frame. After taking a deep, calming breath, he stepped toward her. Wrapping his arms around her, he splayed his hands low across her back molding her hips to his own. His lips teased hers with a feather light kiss before trailing across her cheek to nuzzle her ear. His deep, resonating voice took on a wolfish tone as he whispered in her ear, "I want your body, Vash. Your body is perfect, so damn perfect. I want to feel you moving restlessly beneath me. I want to be deep inside you and feel your body shudder in response. I want to make slow, passionate, lingering love to you."
The timber of his bedroom baritone had the effect of a physical touch, a shiver of intense desire ran up and down Vash's spine. The uncharacteristic bluntness of Jean-Luc's words was astonishingly erotic. This man was very articulate, not to mention seriously aroused. He placed heated kisses from the sensitive spot under her ear down to the hollow of her throat. Vash's breathing became increasingly ragged as his lips moved lower to explore the flesh between her full breasts before taking one rigid peak into his mouth. Gripping him for support, her fingers dug into the steely bulge of his upper arms as he swirled his tongue over the rosy peak. She arched toward him and he bent her back across his arm to explore her breasts further. He laid claim to her breasts using only his lips, teeth and tongue. Slowly, with another trail of passionate kisses, Jean-Luc moved his mouth up to cover hers.
As he kissed her deeply, Vash let her hands travel over the masculine power of his body. Her hands delighted in the lean, well-defined muscles of his shoulders and arms. Then they glided down to his chest to explore the rippling pectorals and the coarse chest hair. Her hands curved along his sides to the narrowing, taut strength of his stomach and hips. breaking the kiss, Vash lowered her head and gently pulled one of his nipples between her teeth. Hearing his ragged breath, she took the nipple into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue just as he had done to her. Her hands dropped lower still to discover his tense, muscular thighs. As she teased his other nipple, her right hand moved over the hard evidence of his need for her.
"Yes, Vash. Oh God, yes," he growled as he felt her small hand caress him through the trunk hose and her mouth torment first one nipple and then the other. Suddenly, he swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bunk.
Vash laid her head against his chest listening to the rapid pounding of his heart. She relished the strength of his arms, the solid expanse of his chest, and the clean, natural masculine smell of him. Jean-Luc laid her down on the bunk, the wool blanket was rough and sensuous beneath her. He knelt on the bunk next to her.
"You have gorgeous legs," Picard rasped as his strong hand slowly skimmed up the smooth length of her leg. He lowered his face once more to capture and tease the peak of one of her breasts. As his mouth devoured first one and then the other breast, his hand moved up her thigh to caress her intimately. He could feel her quivering beneath his touch and her breathing came in ragged gasps. Lifting his head up, he looked down into her lovely face, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Her eyes fluttered open and locked with his. Both of his hands moved to stroke her thighs and with a predatory whisper he commanded, "Let me in, chere."
Moaning softly, Vash shifted her legs and he settled himself between her thighs. Her fingers slid down Jean-Luc's torso to undo the lacings of his trunk hose. She heard him groan as her delicate hands firmly grasped him. His arms braced on either side of her head, he hovered above her. Vash's small hands moved up to grip the masculine slope of his shoulders. She felt him very deliberately, inch by inch, bury himself deep within her. She rasped, "Oh God, you feel so good."
Picard felt her hands slide down from his shoulders to rest on the solid muscles of his upper arms that bunched with effort as he took her very slowly. Trying to control his own excitement, he pulled back almost leaving her completely. Vash unexpectedly thrust her hips up against him, taking him
so deep within her that he groaned involuntarily. Still, he held himself immobile.
Frustrated, Vash twisted her hips to work him in deeper and tightened herself around him. It worked. She heard a low growl from his throat as he pulled back to sharply thrust himself deeply into her. His cadence increased to a rhythm of furious intensity and she matched him motion for motion. As he continued to take her with abandon, his mouth descended on hers in a fierce kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips to possess her mouth as boldly as he was possessing her body. "Oh, Jean-Luc," Vash whimpered and surged toward him as she felt her release in wave after wave of ecstasy ripping through her.
"Vash," Picard growled. His hips made one last, strong, deep thrust as he reached his own release. Rolling himself onto his side, he settled Vash against his chest.
"No matter how badly I wanted you and no matter how wonderful this was, it still wasn't a good idea," Picard managed to gasp.
"Why?" Vash asked breathlessly.
"For starters, Q could be watching," Picard said with a shudder.
"He could have been watching the other night in your quarters," she pointed out.
"My first officer could have attempted to rescue us," he continued.
"You could've claimed I seduced you; although, I don't think Commander Riker would have felt too sympathetic," Vash teased him.
"Probably not," he grinned.
"Besides, you weren't the only one who wanted this," Vash cooed at him. "I've wanted this since last night when you came out of my bedroom caring my field equipment. I almost pushed you back into the bedroom, but I didn't know the current penalty for tying the flagship captain to the bed."
"Go to sleep, Vash," he sighed wearily.
"Aye sir, Captain, sir."
..........................................
Vash nervously paced the length of the small room in the castle's tower where she was being held. "Don't the two of you ever stop arguing?" Q had asked with a sneer as she and Picard stood on the platform in the middle of the castle's courtyard, waiting for their execution. A small smile crossed Vash's face as she thought of the answer to Q's question; although, she didn't think Jean-Luc would have appreciated her telling Q that the one thing they do more frequently, and more passionately, than argue is make love. She was startled out of her thought by the metallic clang of steel hitting steel from the sword battle raging outside in the courtyard. Her small smile disappeared, this is what she had tried so hard to avoid yet suddenly, the fighting was right outside the heavy oak door. She turned to the door just in time to see it flung open. Jean-Luc stood in the doorway holding a bloody broad sword. Relief flooded his features as his eyes locked with hers.
"Jean-Luc," she said, sighing as she ran to his open arms. Lifting her off the ground slightly, he pressed his lips to hers in a brief, passionate kiss.
**FINIS**