Title: Scorned
Series: TNG
Author: Sarajayne
Rating: Soapy mouth
Feedback: Would I ever say no?

Disclaimer: TPTB owns them, but I've borrowed them for an intense
moment or two ;-)


"Damn bitch did it on purpose" Will Riker groaned under his staggered
breath. He still felt as if a Targ had backed up and sat on his groin
for the last 4 hours. And the bruising, not to mention swelling, was
enough to confirm his suspicions.

"Damn her!" He mumbled louder this time, hoping she could hear him
through the solid brick walls, the ones that penned him in to the
darkly lit cube.

Or is that damn HER? He wondered.

The woman he was cursing was not the same as the one responsible for
his staggered crawl. 12 hours ago Will Riker was a very happy man.
After many months of celibacy, hoping the vixen counsellor would
realise, Deanna Troi finally smiled at him. And not just any smile.
The knee melting variety that left a man headless, brainless and just
about a gibbering wreck.

But if he had really known where things were headed, he would of
backed away, begged forgiveness, and changed ships quick smart. But
no. He had to blunder along and follow the soulful strings she always
had wound tightly about his heart.

Did anyone ever tell him to dodge love, as well as angry three eyed
beasts at the Academy? No. Quite frankly. The danger of love should
be part of the kobiashi maru test.

"To think I thought she was softening." He mumbled to no-one, but the
gossamer spider web blowing in the breeze from under the cell door.

I guess what Deanna really thought was...OK, he's safe now, we can
trust him. But lets make sure. Let's send him off on a diplomatic
mission, one not so easy as first assumed, and see if he handles his
hormones rightly.

Well boy did failure shine brightly. Not only did Will even think he
would be fine chaperoning the Ambassador of Lattea, so did Deanna at

He'd been celibate. Deanna knew this mainly because of their bond,
although she had never informed him of this verbally, but it was
two-way street. She had always known the exact cluster of feelings he
filtered through when he was courting or mating the next female thing
that moved. A rather nasty form of feedback. Getting to know someone
so deeply had it's negatives, she had said once. It was just after
she had come running into his room hearing him scream, but not from
pain, more like pleasure.

Well she had heard him again, he surmised. How else could he be here
now, instead of performing his duties on board the Enterprise, and
still trying to court the invincible Troi. Maybe he needed an army
buried inside a wooden horse after all, to break down her walls.

How did I get here? The cause was and is a mammoth drinking session
with the Ambassador down on her native planet. A civilisation that
thought it an insult to not indulge in their local beverage. Laced
with highly intoxicating real alcohol. It was just like the Wendy
Roper fiasco.

The more I drank, the more I realised Deanna had become forbidden
fruit. How could she ever forgive a man like me? One who would wine
and dine a young lass with no more thought than dazzling her into my
bedroom, or couch. Bruised I let the alcohol blow my senses. Yep a
Roper incident, as I'd like to call it.

From the third drink on it all became a blur as women, music and
laughter, slowly patched those aching holes Deanna had blasted
through my heart. But that wasn't the clincher, oh no, first officer
drunk on duty wasn't what did it. How could it? How could a drunken
officer end up in jail with near half his genitals scrambled from
simple fun?

Flesh. It started there, somehow, someone bigger than a moose, he was
sure, was heaving under him. Beautiful flesh in a deranged way when
one's mind isn't operating at best efficiency. At least it was
womanly. Something that cured my injured male pride I guess. And
that's where it ended. The pain of that one weird solid foot seemed
more like a hoof as it clove into the tenderist part of my anatomy,
right then and there.

And why? Because just before climax, someone slipped into a sex
weakened consciousness, and imparted a little gift. Something so
sensual, one could only gasp the name Deanna unrestrained. Of course
you can see my debacle, screaming the wrong name of the panting woman
below you could be called stupid in the least.

She knew. The worst part about this? I had no intention of getting
drunk, no intention of repeating my past mistakes; and certainly the
thought of hurting her was farther from my mind, until now.

The throbbing had stopped, now only a numbness remained, except when
he moved. And boy was he staying stationary. Not that there was
anywhere to move to but the hole in the other corner, something that
seemed to painfully far from his wood splintered bench.

His head still spun a little from the alcohol; his tongue coated in a
grey fuzz. But other than that he was Will Riker again, not some
deranged drunken lecher. "Oh gawd" He groaned dropping his head into
his palms, wishing for instant transportation back to his comfy
bridge seat. Even Beverly's dungeon of torture seemed a welcome wish.

The Captain! The ship! Oh shit. This will really look good on my
record. XO found exploring his middle-aged youth with vigor and
causing a nuisance. Oh and top that up with losing sight of an
important Federation representative.

By now the hangover was encroaching further into his grey matter as
the positive effects started to wear off. The drums at the backs of
his brain were now getting louder. But were they drums of impending
doom? Was he about to be executed by a diminutive Betazoid with a
gullet of revenge?

Just as he shivered in fear of never seeing her again, foot steps
began approaching. Was it her? "Please don't let it be her. Not now,
not like this." He wished. Dropping his head back into his hands, he
slumped down further, covering his eyes from the brilliant light from
the corridor as it struck hard and fast.

Blinking away the change of illumination he gazed down to see the
criss cross of fingermarks scored into his chest, and across his back
too no less. The redness of dried blood smeared over some parts. What
the hell had he been riding?

"Out of your cell prisoner." He heard the gruff voice of a guard
order. But did the guard realise how hard that was going to be?
Gritting his teeth he straightened up slowly, feeling the burn of
stretching skin, and waddled as fast as he could gasp.

Several fluent swear words in varying dialects later and he was even
with the door frame. Its close proximity a sudden relief as his knees
sagged. Gripping on with one hand he still started to slide, until
another hand wound it's way around his biceps and lifted him back to
his feet.

"Careful there Commander." The stern voice turning him a vivid shade of red.

"Sorry sir." Will murmured as he looked up to see the angry
countenance of his superiors face.

"We'll discuss this later, but for now we need to get you moving.
I've secured and paid your fine, and explained the situation to the
authorities. I'm afraid they won't be letting you back here so soon
next time Will." The captain added gently. Although the brisk voice
was there, the captain could only show sorrow for the sight of Will
Riker right now.

Each step was a torture in itself, not just in a medical sense, but
each step brought him closer to facing Deanna. And the nakedness of
his body showed the Captain exactly where he hurt without Beverly's

Naked. Damn! How was he going to get through this without more people
bellowing their bellies with laughter. About to exit the cell
section, Picard took off his jacket indicating for Will to cover
himself. A welcome relief, he covered his indignity with the revered
Captains jacket. They moved out to the waiting area of the busy
security area, passing armed gate by gate, until they came face to
face with Will's next hurdle.

Beverly's stifled laughter didn't help, but at least the Captain had
let him keep some of his modesty. "Don't you think you're a bit old
now for a jug of ale and a wench?" Beverly teased. The scowl she got
back only warmed her smile a little further.

"Three to sickbay" The Captain called. The barrier that divided the
body from here and there was always a curious one to Will Riker, but
right now a blessing, as the transporter clove him in two, muted his
pain for a second, but then dumped him back into agony and the
clutches of one Dr Crusher; a doctor, who could only stand there and
laugh, point and shake her head.

Healing his wounds, and thrusting an ice bag into his hands, she left
him to recover and muddle through his remorse.

Deanna would be down soon, Beverly had already contacted her friend
during the process of healing each scratch, bite and bruise. And it
wasn't long till the demon herself slowly slid up against the door
frame of his recovery suite.

About to blurt out an excuse, she beat him to it. "I'm sorry." His
double take took on a snarl as sore muscles, man handled by security
officers hours before, reminded him to lie still.

"You're sorry?" He queried, even if half of his ego was demanding
that she beg for his forgiveness, and the other was shrivelling away
in fear of losing her.

"I sent you there."

"Speaking of sent..." He left it hanging as she looked away.

"I am sorry Will, but I wanted to see if you truly were off the
market. Beverly and I both thought you needed a little testing. And
when I felt you...." She stammered at that point, no doubt her own
stunt had backfired.

"I'm the sorry one Deanna, I can't for the life of me remember how I
got into that position..ah... ended up there." He embarrassingly
corrected himself.

"Well by the looks of your medical report, I doubt Worf wouldn't of
been afraid." She smiled, the lilt of her laughter edging each word.
He could do no more than smile back.

"I'm not sure I want to remember." He grimaced. "But I do want to apologise."

"Then do it by keeping to your celibacy and we'll see how it goes
from there." She winked. "Yes I know what you were doing Will Riker.
Trying to court me off my feet with dedication." She moved forward
and laid a small kiss to his derma-plastered forehead.

"So? You're OK about this then?" He indicated to where the icebag lay
upon his sickbay jama bottoms.

"I know the captain wants a word, but for my sake, don't give up
trying.' She smiled, leaving the ill fated Riker to start once again
from the beginning in his trial to conqueror the walls of Troi. And
with the amount of healing time he was no doubt up for, he considered
it a breeze, for the true woman he loved.

The Stompy End.