"Lovers Pact"
QDestinyy@aol.com
---
NOTE: This writing exercise was completed in little more than
an hour one evening. It is not intended for re-distribution without
consent, and may contain errors and/or omissions for which the author
makes no apology. It is, it was, it will be ... fun!
---
Warm raindrops followed indolent rivers of moisture down the surface of Deanna
Troi's arms. Counterpoint to the kiss of the breeze, the temperate water
traced her elbow along the inset of her arm. It followed his fingertips
everywhere he touched her. Her breath caught on the cusp of a whisper when his
mouth seized hungrily on her lips.
Thought -- of any sort -- had long since melted away; swallowed by a greater
urgency. The need to couple; to be with him and have him take whatever he
would. In the way that only he ever could.
"Deanna..." his breath caressed her lips and trickled warm as silk
along the skin on her neck.
She cupped the back of his head with her hand. "No names..." and
fell against him with the whole of her body; molded to his large and powerful
frame.
He made a sound. She felt his protest, but the force of his conviction was
scarce -- shivering on the brink of collapse. She'd win this battle. She knew
it as she'd known victory in all of the others. He would accede her demand and
take her unresisting.
He would touch her and kiss her, laying siege to her body with gentle
perfection; teasing her with lips and tongue and hands. He would bring her to
a pleasure so great that she would cry out from the physical force of it. And
it would blind them both. For a time, they would live in that moment -- a
battle she had won; would win again.
It would be a victory for logic and circumstance that reaffirmed her every
conviction; every decision she had ever made about the man in her arms and the
life they chose to lead. It would be as it had always been, and as it had
become for nearly three months in their new established pact: The lovers
they'd agreed to be instead of friends.
It might have seemed illogical to some; inconceivable to others. But had
anyone known the two of them better, it would have been easy to see how this
was the only option. This, or the other. Not both.
So Deanna Troi won each battle. Victory came to her each night in the form of
his concessions to her whispered reminders. There would be no names. There
would be no thoughts exchanged. There would only be them and the shuddering
force of their physical union. Night after night, it would begin and then it
would end. And night after night she would fall asleep -- begging all the gods
of all the worlds for the day that she would finally lose.
=//=
"I don't get it,." Beverly Crusher was the first among a trio of
friends to frown.
"What's not to get?" Troi shrugged and sipped her drink.
"You," said Crusher, "and Will Riker, have gone back to being
lovers again?"
Deanna's nod was slight. It might have been lost, had the red-headed doctor
not been staring so intently at her.
"Since when?"
"Three months, day after tomorrow," another woman spoke. The hostess
of Ten Forward placed a new drink next to Troi and leaned over the bar.
"Planning to celebrate?" she asked.
"I hadn't thought about it," Troi looked up and down the length of
the lounge. It was quiet, save for the three of them and their gathering.
"You may be right," Guinan's smile was enigmatic, "A
celebration would be probably be best suited to a moment we're actually proud
of."
"I beg your pardon?" Deanna narrowed her gaze and caught the
El'Aurian's deferential nod.
"I didn't mean to interfere."
"Too late for that." Troi countered, "I'd like to know what you
meant."
"Deanna, why are you so edgy?" Crusher placed her hand on Troi's
arm.
"I'm not edgy!" Deanna snapped, realizing immediately that she was
acting contrary to her words. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm
just a little tired."
"Well I think that stands to reason," Beverly mused with a smile,
"considering it seems like you probably haven't had all that much sleep
in the past three months!"
The heat of color stole into Troi's cheeks, but she cleared her throat softly.
"It's not like that," the sound of her voice seemed quiet, even to
her own ears.
"Then what is it like?" Crusher leaned forward. "Deanna, you've
kept this a secret for a long time, how did you manage? For a while there, I
was beginning to wonder if you and Will had had an argument. You've both been
acting awfully cool around each other the past few weeks. It's not like you
two not to tease one another." she traded a look with Guinan,
"...some of the crew thought you'd had a falling out."
"I know," Deanna sighed.
"So that was deliberate?"
"In a way," Troi affirmed.
"But why keep it a secret? Deanna, we all love you. You know that there
wouldn't be a single soul on this ship who wouldn't be thrilled to know that
the two of you had finally come to your--"
"It's complicated, Beverly."
"I don't understand."
"If you'll excuse me," Guinan softly interjected, "there are
some people I need to serve," she indicated the opposite end of the bar
where two new patrons had walked in. Both Crusher and Troi watched her go in
stoic silence.
"So?" Beverly shrugged, "what's going on?"
Staring blankly at her friend for the span of several moments, Deanna thought
about all of the reasons she shouldn't confide her heart. Her relationship
with Will was a private matter, after all. But despite every logical point
which flew to the forefront, a part of her finally stepped to the plate and
gave in.
"All right," whispered Troi, "I'll tell you," she lifted
her gaze and met her friend's. "But you have to promise me that you will
listen only and form no accusation."
"Why would I--?" Beverly began.
"Promise me."
"Okay," Crusher exhaled quietly, "I promise." She placed
her hands on the bar and tipped her head expectantly.
"You know that Will and I were engaged at one time." Deanna stated
simply. "We were going to be married on Risa and he never came. That part
of our past isn't a secret."
"I remember," Crusher affirmed.
"Well, what you may not be aware of is that Will and I made a pact. A
long time ago, we made a promise to one another that we would not attempt a
romantic relationship while we were serving on board the same ship." When
Beverly nodded in silence, Deanna went on, "You see, the thing about Will
Riker, is that he's never been able to commit. Not to any sort of long term
relationship; not if it meant something."
Troi's gaze drifted out into the room as she spoke, "Oh, he'll be the
first to admit that it's like that. That he's a career officer with a plan and
a goal. But that's never stopped him from wanting to live his life to the
fullest of his ability." She stopped and looked pointedly back at her
friend.
"You mean seeing a lot of women." provided Beverly.
"Over the years, he and I fell into a comfortable pattern. We managed to
forge a friendship, Beverly, and it's probably the strongest relationship I've
ever had with anyone -- under any circumstances."
"But there's more to it than that, Deanna, anyone can see that."
"Will wanted more." Deanna agreed. She spoke softly and she chased
her comment with a wistful sigh. "He told me, a number of times,"
her gaze rose and fell, "that he wanted us to go back to being lovers
again. But I knew that with Will Riker, there were lovers and there were
friends. In his life, the two-- they're just not joined."
"You mean that you felt Will could only look at you as one or the
other?" Crusher shook her head, "Is he really that shallow?"
"No, Beverly," Deanna reached forward and touched her friend's arm.
"He's not shallow. He's just-- not ready. Maybe he never will be. I don't
know. But I did know that I couldn't give him what he wanted because in the
end, it would only end up hurting us both." Her dark eyes lifted,
"And I was afraid that if I opened my heart to him again, it would hurt
me a great deal -more- than I was willing to go through again. If I even
could."
"Oh, Dea..."
"For a long time, I put him off," Deanna went on. A half-smile
touched the corners of her lips. "It worked for years, and we've been
happy in that time. But we had... a falling out, about three months ago. We
had an argument and it changed a lot of things."
"Like what?" Crusher asked softly.
"Like... the fact that I told him I would give him one or the other. That
we couldn't share both. I asked him to choose. I thought--"
"He chose to be lovers." Beverly's head dropped and she shook it
slowly. "He wanted to be with you, and that was what he thought would be
right."
"And I let him." Deanna's eyes found her friends. She stared forward
resolutely. "Because I thought it would prove a point. In my arrogance, I
thought I could teach him to realize that with us, it was one or the
other."
"Did it work?"
Troi laughed, but the sound of it was hollow and tipped with irony. She
thinned her lips and released a rueful breath. "Like a charm."
"It doesn't sound like it worked like a charm."
"Oh it worked." Deanna smirked, "except that I'm the one who
learned something. I learned that I was right, and that I'd lost my best
friend to my own selfish pride."
"Deanna, you don't know that--" The pitiful look on Beverly's face
was enough to make Troi wish she could get up and leave. Only the pervasive
sense of self-disgust she felt kept her rooted to her chair.
"With Will and I there's a connection. It's a spiritual bond that in a
moment of misguided passion, we forged in our youth. He tries some nights, to
find it again. I can feel him, but I won't let him in."
"Why not? Deanna, if he's trying, maybe that means that it's not the way
you think it is. Maybe things have changed..."
"They haven't changed," Troi deadpanned. "Will can be the most
generous, most attentive lover -- and he is that. In his own way, that's all
he knows how to be."
"And a wonderful friend," Beverly argued, "you mentioned that
yourself."
"Yes, but not both! Never at the same time. "
"Have you tried?"
"Yes."
Crusher raised one eyebrow and stared back at Troi unblinking. She kept her
gaze until the Counselor finally scowled.
"Yes!" she defended. "No... I don't know..." Deanna drew
her hands backward through her hair, "what is there to try that we
haven't already?"
"Have you tried being honest with him about the way you feel?"
At this, Deanna laughed again; a hollow rueful sound that she had come to find
of small comfort during the past several months.
"So let me get this straight. You're having sex with Will every night.
The two of you are sleeping together on an ongoing basis, but because of that,
you're not really socializing beyond that, you're not allowing yourself to be
friends and you're keeping him out of whatever 'spiritual connection' you once
felt for him -- because you're afraid that if you fall in love with him again,
he's going to break your heart ... again." Crusher fixed Deanna with a
cool blue gaze. When Troi hadn't answered in a polite period of time, the
doctor scowled. "that's horrible Deanna. I'm sitting here and I feel
horrible -- for both of you!"
"Well, don't feel horrible. We're both adults, we can make our own
decisions."
"But you're in love with him!"
"I'm not in love with him-- there was a time when I was, but right now,
I'm--"
"--sleeping with him, even though you know it's destroying your
friendship one night at a time. Why would you do that, Deanna? You're not
doing it for yourself, obviously, you just told me you'd rather be friends.
You're doing it for Will, and why? I'll tell you why," Crusher's eyes
flashed, "because you think this is what Will wants, and you gave him a
choice which he made -- as only a first class idiot could -- and now out of
some misguided sense of pride and guilt and -love- you're giving him exactly
what you think he wants. But you know what? I think you're both acting like
idiots."
"Oh really?" Deanna's arms crossed over her chest and she glared in
return, "well, I'll be sure and note that in my personal log, Beverly. I
thought you made me a promise that you weren't to judge."
"Tell me something, Deanna. Tell me one thing and then I promise you I
won't make a single judgment more." Beverly sat forward on her stool.
"Do you think Will enjoys your nights together?"
Deanna opened her mouth to answer and then found that she hadn't any. The
truth was that she hadn't tried to sense that from him, one way or another. In
the midst of her own thoughts on the situation, she had been through each
encounter with Will and forced herself -not- to delve too deeply into his
feelings, lest she lose herself there. And now she had to concede that she
really had no idea how he felt -- beyond the obvious physical gratification
they'd both experienced together.
"You know what?" Crusher lifted herself from the bar and stood.
"Don't answer that for me," taking her leave of the quiet nook, she
turned to walk away. "Answer it for yourself. And then do yourself a
favor and ask Will before answering it for him."
Troi might have said something more. She wanted to, except that she was mute.
And Beverly left without another backward glance, forcing Deanna to stare at
the blank reminder of her presence as the doors to Ten Forward slid shut.
=//=
Deanna sat alone in her quarters, and it was dark. It was utterly, wholly
dark. And the level of the light had very little to do with it. She sighed
softly and bent to her bedside table, choosing to light a candle rather than
calling for cabin illumination.
Will was late tonight. There were times when they'd meet in his cabin. Others
when they met in hers -- such as this night. But for the moment, he was still
on the bridge. There was something of importance which kept him there,
occupied.
Her sense of him was troubled and focused, and she made a mental note to ask
about his shift when he returned. Perhaps the Enterprise was in another bind,
or there was something he'd been forced to do which bothered his conscience.
Either way...
She couldn't ask him. Because asking him would merge the purpose of their
night together. She'd nearly forgotten that, as she had nearly forgotten it
--every night-- from the very beginning of their new pact.
It was one or the other. A casual lover, or a close friend. Her eyes drifted
closed and then opened again; her sense of him grew stronger and then the door
chime came.
The door chime? He knew her code as well as his own...
"Come in," she called through the bedroom doorway and saw him in
silhouette as he emerged from the bright hall beyond.
"A little late, are we Commander?" her voice was teasing, but Will
threw her a wan smile and shrugged, dropping his uniform jacket on a nearby
chair.
"I had a few things to finish up." He made his way toward her,
looking down for a moment from where he stood a full six feet four inches over
her bed. The candle light flickered and Deanna could see the lines of fatigue
etched into his expression.
Sitting up, she adjusted her position and regarded him solemnly, her earlier
vow forgotten. "What happened?"
"Nothing," he shook his head, still staring at her. He took another
step and then sat quietly on the edge of her bed. Lifting one hand, Riker
placed the back of it at the edge of her face and traced a line toward her
chin.
Deanna looked back at him in silence. She watched him until he finally looked
away.
"Deanna," he was whispering, "I've done some thinking."
With a quiet exhale, Troi lifted her legs so that her knees brushed up against
her chest. "Go on."
Will lifted his gaze. "I've been thinking, and ... I just ... I don't
think that we should see each other," he swallowed.
She swallowed her surprise. She knew that her eyes had betrayed some of it,
but the rest of it she pushed far and away. "Not see each other?" It
was the only thing she could think of to say, and it sounded nearly as
pathetic as she felt.
"I think," he began, "you're a wonderful friend. My best
friend. I just don't think that--"
"You don't want to us to be lovers." Deanna finished for him, amazed
at the even tone of her own voice. Her heart was beating so frantically; she
felt it hammering against the inside of wall of her chest.
Riker met her eyes and exhaled slowly. The hand he'd used to trace her face
now cupped the bottom of her chin. "I think it's just ... not us. Not
anymore."
She nodded slowly, blinking back the way she felt despite the voice of reason
in her mind.
"Do you--?" he asked her softly.
"No," she cut in, "no, I think ... you're probably right."
The look on his face was one of relief, and she sensed it in him as well. He
wanted this...
"But we can be friends?" he asked, dropping his hand from her face.
She felt the loss of contact as a whisper of cool air.
"Yes, of course we can." She smiled at him genuinely, and when she
saw him grin back, she felt as though an empty hollow in her heart had
suddenly filled. She'd missed that crooked grin of his.
"Good." He bent forward and placed his lips against her forehead,
leaning backward almost immediately. When he did, he sat and stared at her a
instant longer. His clear blue eyes explored her expression.
Without another word, Will got up slowly. "It's late," he smiled,
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You might," she managed to tease. He laughed at her humor and
turned. Starting slowly for the other end of the room, Riker suddenly paused.
"I missed you," the sound of his voice whispered resolutely into the
flickering darkness. It carried back to her from the doorway to her quarters
as it closed.
=//=
The lighting in Ten Forward was dim and the sound of music and laughter filled
the lounge with an atmosphere of buoyancy. It was a feeling which -- for the
first time in months -- Deanna found herself thoroughly enjoying.
They were attending yet another reception. Yet another social function that
she'd promised to be present at as an officer. And as an officer she did
appear. But though she rarely admitted it, she had always enjoyed the
camaraderie that went along with these sorts of affairs. Even if the politics
were frequently rather predictable. There were often friends to sit with as
the evening wore on ... and there was always Will.
Tonight, he was dancing. She heard his laughter across the floor of the lounge
and she glanced up at where he stood -- face to face with one of the female
delegates from the day's negotiations. They were speaking quietly, and Riker's
eyes were intent on the woman's face. But for the first time -- perhaps ever
-- all that Deanna felt in watching him, was a knowing sense of affection.
Because it didn't matter, who he was speaking to, or what he was saying.
Whether he found the woman attractive -- which he did -- or whether he was
simply being an outrageous flirt. Behind all of that, there was something
else. Something more she hadn't seen before.
"Deanna, are you sure you'll be all right?" Beverly glanced down at
Troi where she sat. The doctor examined her posture and then allowed her gaze
to fall on Deanna's leg.
She'd injured it in an away mission forty-eight hours earlier. There had been
a skirmish on a planet they were visiting, and she had ended up the target of
a wayward phaser blast. Will had brought her back to the ship -- or so she'd
been told. He'd carried her four kilometers to a transport facility because
the law forbade them beaming from any other location. But he'd gone back with
her, alone. And when she woke up, he was sitting by her bed.
They hadn't said much. He'd looked at her, and she at him. There might have
been more than that, but Doctor Crusher was always nearby. Beverly had taken
care of the damage to her limb. And since Deanna had been unconscious through
most of it -- a fact she was secretly grateful for -- the only thing which
remained was a tender area of bone which still needed time to knit before she
placed her full weight on it.
Needless to say, she would not be doing any dancing tonight herself.
"I'm fine," Troi smiled up at her friend. "Go ... have fun. I'm
perfectly capable of nursing a chocolate sundae on my own." Her eyes
drifted to the sweet confection in front of her and then back to the
solicitous doctor at their table. "Go!" she commanded.
"Okay... but if you need anything..."
"I'll holler like a banshee."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Beverly grinned, and Deanna opted to
award her with a playfully defiant glare.
The doctor left and Troi returned her attention to the matter of desert. She
took another bite and savored it slowly, glancing out of one of the starboard
portals to the sparkling vacuum beyond.
"So -I- heard," a low voice spoke from six feet four inches above
her, "that there was a poor one-legged officer over here, having
chocolate all by herself..."
Riker sank down onto a bench directly beside Troi and leaned against her,
shoulder to shoulder.
"First of all," Deanna spoke without looking up from her dessert,
"I am -not- one-legged," she lifted her head slightly and offered
him a coy look from beneath a fall of her hair, "and second of all,
chocolate--"
"--is a very serious thing," he finished for her, with a grin.
"I know."
Deanna beamed in return, pushing back against his shoulder. "It -is- a
very serious thing," she shrugged, punctuating her statement with the
insertion of her spoon between her lips. She closed her eyes and smiled.
"I can see that."
"So..." when she looked at him again, she found him staring at her
oddly. "You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself this evening,
Commander." Her look drifted from his smiling eyes to the woman he'd been
dancing with earlier.
"I am," he affirmed, briefly following her gaze. "It turns out
that Orial and I shared a mutual friend at the Academy."
"Really?" Deanna set her bowl down and leaned forward with interest.
"Yup." He cleared his throat and then smiled at her, "an old
lover."
"Oh my," Troi fell forward, laughing. "Oh, Will ... " her
gaze lifted and she struggled to compose her features, pressing her lips
together with purpose. "Well, that must have been quiet a disappointment
for you Commander, I'm sorry. After all the trouble you went to in asking her
to dance..."
For the longest time, Riker had also been able to control his expression, but
at her comment he finally grinned. Leaning toward Deanna, he whispered
conspiratorially. "Actually, she told me about it on the planet, two days
ago."
Staring back at him in amused confusion, Troi finally lifted her shoulders.
"She's a psychologist, Deanna. You two might have a few things in common,
you should get together some time."
"A psychologist?"
"As a matter of fact," he went on, "I was asking her
advice."
"Really?" Again, Deanna feigned serious interest, folding her hands
before her on the table and fixing him with a solemn look. "Well, then
she's obviously a miraculous talent, managing to persuade the indomitable Will
Riker into psychological discussion. What sort of advice was she able to
offer, dare I ask?"
Sliding toward her, still closer, Riker moved until his face was barely a
breath away from hers. Deanna stared back at him, and tried to pretend that
she couldn't feel the warm caress of his breath on the edge of her cheek.
"You've got a little chocolate..." he whispered, reaching forward
and brushing his thumb against her lip, "right here." And then his
mouth replaced his hand and he was kissing her with wholly consuming passion.
Deanna felt her lips glide open and his tongue collide gently with hers. Her
eyes fell shut and her hand moved instinctively to the side of his face. But
what she'd forgotten in playing with him earlier, and what made this kiss feel
like a thousand wonderful fires set ablaze within her spirit -- was to block
her sense of him, and his of her.
=//=
Reality melted; dripping as liquid from the edges of Deanna's consciousness.
But the paradox was in her inability to keep their thoughts from tumbling
together. As though he'd somehow propped the door to her soul wide open with
an invisible force, she drew him hungrily inside her mind and felt his
emotions merge with hers.
They were devouring each other -- in public. On board the ship they swore
they'd serve on only as friends. But what did "friends" mean, for
them?
Riker's hands caressed the edge of her face through the fall of her hair. He
gathered a portion of it between his fingertips and rubbed them together,
feeling it as though he'd never felt it before. Their lips parted with a
faint, but audible sound and Deanna looked up at him. Her face was flushed and
warm. Moments away from his.
They were still in Ten Forward. And though that was seemingly obvious, it
occurred to Deanna that she would not have been the least bit surprised if
she'd found that they were floating in space outside the portal to the lounge.
It was silly enough to make her wonder at a smile. They weren't in space.
Certainly. They were sitting together on a bench. In the Enterprise's largest
lounge. At a party.
In public.
Troi froze where she sat. Her head turned slightly and she noticed the eyes of
several crew members and a number of other interested parties lingering on
both of them.
"Will..." she whispered harshly, turning her gaze back to his. She'd
been about to continue, when he kissed her again. Full on the lips. He drew
her face between his palms -- and she forgot how to breathe.
"Will..." she tried a second time when the need for oxygen became
greater than the need she felt to allow him to continue doing ...
Doing...
Oh hell, whatever he wanted to...
Deanna kissed him back.
Her hands wound slowly around his neck and her body fell forward into a pair
of arms she knew would support her. The sounds in Ten Forward drifted, slowed
and then stilled. Her heartbeat thumped in counterpoint, echoing between the
inside of her chest and the front of his. She could hear it like a drum, and
she could feel him drawing closer to her body.
"Imzadi..."
For six years she hadn't spoken that word to him once. Six long years and now
it came tumbling from her lips like a prayer on the whisper of her breath.
She felt his feeling for her swell. The painful press of it against his chest
became her own.
"Imzadi..." she spoke it again, and the tears that slipped from
between her lashes warmed his skin.
Without warning, Will slowly began to stand. Lifting her with him so that her
weight was borne mostly on his arm, he held her tenderly against his body,
laying the side of his face on the top of her hair. They stood that way in the
starlight from the window, oblivious to the appreciative and speculative
glances of their crew and their comrades.
Deanna hugged him with every ounce of strength she possessed. He was stronger
than her by far, physically superior to a point where she knew that her grip
could not possibly hurt him. And the thought of that caused her hold on him to
tighten. She held him in a way she hadn't done for nearly a decade. She
crushed him against her -- and she knew -- that no matter how hard she
squeezed, it would never be enough.
Riker's hands moved slowly over her arms and he pulled from her grasp for only
a moment to speak. "Say my name," his eyes were large and the
darkest blue she'd ever seen before. She knew what he was asking, and she
understood why.
"Will..." she cried softly, "I'm so sorry.... " Her words
trailed off as he gathered her close another time. Riker's eyes fell shut. He
smiled and he tucked her head beneath his chin.
"We'll always be friends, Deanna." The feeling of his voice against
her hair sent a shiver throughout Troi's body. He wasn't asking her the
question this time. He was giving her the answer.
The link between them had forged long ago, and they were as helpless against
it now as they had been when they were first captured by it so many years
earlier.
Tipping her head so that the meaning in his eyes held all the truth which she
could see, Deanna exhaled quietly. "Friends," her whisper caressed
his lips, "and lovers."
=/END/=