Chapter Text
He shifted again, rearranging his feet awkwardly on the lounger, and trying hard to stay focused. Feeling the first sweat creep down his already sun-heated skin, he wiped his brow and turned the page.
The foreign but beautiful woman still sitting on Dixon Hill's desk squirmed, but her long, slender legs and tantalizing stockings crossed dangerously in front of his appreciative gaze. The images in his mind immediately fogged up again, her face and hair color changing subtly, almost on autopilot. "Mrs. Stevenson, the investigation is going well, don't worry about my price. Things will clear up soon."
The lady beamed at Dix, her smile apparently shifting from frightened to seductive. "Mr. Hill, you amaze me. I never expected you to be so... so devoted to your clients and mandates."
She leaned forward so he could risk a closer look at her inviting cleavage and lightly touched his bicep, her sparkling orbs locking with his. "Mrs. Stevenson," Hill croaked, watching her explicit gaze quiver with pleasure. "Of course, you can count on me." Studying her elegant, exquisite features, the skilled detective clenched his jaw, his mind slowly drifting elsewhere. Oh, how he longed to touch her supple thighs, to rake his fingernails over those tiny, tantalizing freckles on her pale skin, to brush his thumb across those luscious lips he'd adored whenever he'd been out of plain sight.
"Jean-Luc!"
He practically jumped. The ancient paper book slipped from his hands, the realization of being caught coloring his face thoroughly crimson.
"It's wonderful, you should try it." Beverly chuckled, her long-legged strides quickly approaching and stopping right next to his horizontal form. "Hey," she called again, meaning him.
Picard inhaled deeply, hastily closing his eyes to shield himself from the exquisite vision. His heart soared in his chest. He'd never been so happy to see a book fall, and as luck would have it, it was now hiding rather humiliating realities.
"Jean-Luc, are you asleep?"
Her voice was right next to him, her familiar scent already invading his greedy nostrils. A cold drop hit his skin... and then another. Quickly they multiplied, the shadow which suddenly blocked the sun emphasizing that she had obviously come very close. He couldn't pretend to be asleep, could he? That would be idiotic.
"Jean-Luc, did you hear me? The water is scandalously warm, but absolutely marvelous though."
Oh, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Like he loved her voice. And he loved... another big, cold droplet hit his fully heated skin. He opened his eyes slowly, almost afraid. She had bent over him, watching him carefully. Her wet, tangled hair cascading down her head was visibly responsible for the insistent, disturbing wetness he felt creeping through his protective shell. And she was obviously dangerously close, biting her lip deep in thought as she went on studying him intently. "Captain?"
"Beverly." He whispered, almost terrified to utter her name as well.
Her distant frown morphed into a radiant smile. "Don't you want to go for a swim as well? The water is lovely, you should try it." She reached out and touched his shoulder, making him flinch and his eyes widen in disbelief. Please don't touch me, he growled inwardly, his jaw working hard to stifle the impending moan that was fighting to escape his tense throat.
"No... no, thank you. I'm completely satisfied." He sounded harsh, almost grumpy to her ears. She quickly withdrew her hand from his smooth skin, almost successfully ignoring the electrifying sizzle that had captured her palm. Beverly felt the shiver conquer her pulse as she swallowed the odd tension and forced a brave smile. Whatever it was this man was provoking, looking at her like that, made her feel... strange.
"Where's... Jack?" he asked slurred, just to erase the awkward moment. The fact that she was still hunched over him didn't improve his embarrassing condition. Actually, he was totally incapable of separating his eyes from her perfect contours.
"Fetching some cooled drinks." She explained quietly, eyeing him again. If only he wouldn't always be so reserved and detached. As handsome as he was. "What about Felicia?"
He cringed even more. "Still nursing her headache and sleeping in our room." His voice was nothing but a growl.
The fact that the captain had brought a woman with him to Risa was definitely new. And even if she was perfectly fine with it... it just seemed different. Maybe even a little unsettling. "You should put on some protection, the sun is very intense at noon." Beverly remarked absentmindedly, easing the tension as she scanned his perfectly toned, bare chest, which had started to take on a slightly red glow.
In exasperation, she bit her lip. Jeez, why did I have to say that? His blush was so deep that she was sure he took it as a blunt suggestion that she might want to help him in this delicate matter. And obviously he was horrified at the very thought. Why can't you keep your mouth shut for once, Beverly? He's not just any random friend, and certainly not just any random man. This is insulting, irrespective of what he means to Jack. The moment passed and more salty droplets made their way from her hair, trickling onto his skin as she moved. Realizing her misstep, she frantically shoved her disheveled tresses back and adjusted them over her shoulder. "I'm sorry."
He sighed, equally frustrated, fighting the urge to leave, or preferably, to run. Picard realized that option was completely impossible. Not in this... constricted state. So, he cleared his throat instead, for the umpteenth time. And his gaze fell on those luscious lips again, roving the perfect curve of her inviting mouth. That definitely didn't help. He forced his hungry eyes down, unfortunately landing right on her delicate collarbone, where they immediately began tracing her pale skin, glistening with the remains of salt and water. The fascinating layer stuck to her body like a delicious frosting, ready to be devoured. His tongue fell heavy with need, secretly ghosting the desired movements, indulging his longing to follow the path the droplets took so easily. Picard hastily swallowed his rapidly flowing saliva, tearing his hungry gaze from the exciting hollow between her magnificent breasts before it could lure his drifting fantasies deeper. "No harm done," he growled, distracted, quickly fumbling for the forgotten book in growing panic.
"Oh no, I have drenched your book!" Beverly jumped and reached for it, just as she realized that his hand was already wrapped around the cover.
His whole body convulsed in panic, both hands clutching his shield and rudely jerking her away. "Stop!" he barked, leaping to his feet and backing away from her unwanted, all-too-dangerous touch. Jean-Luc stood, covering his crotch and trunks with his hands and his book, breathing heavily and glaring at her in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Why, for heaven's sake, did she do this, over and over again, when he had nothing to hide behind? When he had no defense, no protection against her ruthless charms and breathtaking spell?
Beverly was taken aback. He had never reacted so rude before. Dismissive? Yes. Impolite? Definitely. But he'd never acted like she were, in fact, heavily toxic. Startled, she had reflexively taken a cautious step back and eyed him conspicuously. What the hell was going on in his head? Did he only tolerate her because she was the girl of his best friend? Could it really be that he simply disliked her and had only been polite up to now? After all, she liked him very much. Maybe even a little too much. Despite his strange attitudes and his stiff manner. "I'm...sorry...again." She whispered, averting her eyes from his petrified gaze, unable to fight the feeling of being a stupid kid harassing a living legend. "Truly sorry."
"Just stop whatever it is you think you're doing," he warned stiffly, repeating his disapproval like a mantra, this time calmer due to the distance gained. But the impending, stubborn blush crept up to his ears anyway. He had not wanted to come. He had fought with his hands and feet against joining the couple on Risa. He had known that seeing Beverly in nothing but that nerve-racking attire would eat him alive. It was worse enough with clothes on, he reasoned. Worse enough with a winter parka, hat and scarf, he remembered angrily. Because those sapphire eyes alone had the power to rob him of sleep for weeks, and had done so more than once. Picard raised his chin defiantly, his well-trained control still vehemently refusing to obey. He truly hated the weakness it caused in him, hated being constantly at her mercy. But he couldn't stop it either. Obviously, this woman wasn't even anticipating what her mere proximity and tantalizing scent was doing to his strictly erected walls and barriers. Not to mention her most inspiring heart and soul. Thankfully, she had no clue what was raging in his infatuated, obsessed mind. And he had no intention of telling her. Ever.
"I'm going to retreat to my room." He grunted curtly, avoiding further eye contact.
"Can I..." Beverly started, hoping he would forgive her apparent clumsiness for Jack's sake.
Picard shook his head and inhaled softly. "No, just... just leave me alone." He squared his shoulders and swallowed once more. It was impossible to face the following days without leaving his room again. And he wasn't even alone. His heart sank along with his exhaustion.
What had he gotten himself into?
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her chewing on her trembling lower lip, a habit he'd observed frequently when Beverly seemed to be contemplating her next move. With a weirdly beating heart, he snatched up the towel on his cot and quickly adjusted it around his waist. He definitely regretted his crude tone, especially since it was visibly affecting her more and more. It felt dreadful to be so rude when all he wanted to do was wrap himself around her until the end of time. Hurting her was certainly not on his agenda. The alternative, however, was that he would have to betray himself sooner or later. He shrugged off the madness, pressed the book close to his chest, and turned without another word.
"What is wrong with you, Jean-Luc Picard?" Beverly muttered under her breath as she watched him hastily leave the beach and head for their cabanas. She could not deny that she felt offended. Was it really that hard to have to put up with her? She really tried to be polite, but his attitude made it hard to maintain the will. And he owed it to his rank alone that she hadn't slapped him for his insensibilities yet, as often as he had insulted her lately. It was far worse when they were alone, she realized not without a touch of frustration.
"What's up with him?" Jack suddenly startled her from her silent reflection. He had stepped up beside her, following her distant gaze. "Is he playing princess again?"
With a long, drawn-out breath, she turned and forced a weak smile. "Hell knows. Maybe I'm just annoying him."
"Nonsense." Jack retorted, setting the cocktails he'd brought on the small table next to their loungers. "He's just a little irritated. And shy. Give him time to adjust, babe." Snaking his arms around her waist, he closed the distance to meet her lips in a brief, but gentle kiss.
"I suppose he just hates me." she whispered flatly as they finally drew apart.
Hearing this, Jack chuckled and swiftly began to brush a few errant, slowly drying crimson strands from her face to hide the fact that he was wondering about her agitated words and his captain's odd behavior. "Jean-Luc doesn't hate you, sweetheart. He's just a bit old-fashioned and you, my dear, are gorgeous and awesome. I'm sure he'll get over his reservations and discover how wonderful you really are. The two of you will get along just fine, you'll see."
"He's already known me for more than a year, Jack. And it has only gotten worse lately."
"Patience, my dear, he will adjust. I even booked a table for all of us tonight at the French restaurant nearby. Now come and have a drink with me, you sexy lass."
Beverly scowled, crossing her arms demonstratively in front of her. "He's still creepy when you're not around," she argued, watching Jack take a seat on the wooden lounger. He reached for his cocktail bowl, thoughtfully sipped the liquid he had brought, and finally turned his head at her. Beverly hoped he was right. At the very least, she would appreciate some kind of amicable coexistence with Jack's captain if their relationship turned out to be a long-term one. And right now, she was quite comfortable with him.
Pushing her trembling thoughts back to where they had come from, she reached for her drink. There would be time to worry about the reasons for the captain's hostility later. For now, she would enjoy the beautiful beach and the man she was here for.
=/\=
"Is... everything all right?"
Picard rubbed his weary eyes, hidden behind his hands that covered his face. "I should ask you that," he mumbled. Still wrapped in the towel, he sat at the end of their bed, his head propped on his knees.
"You look tired." She replied unimpressed and came closer after leaving the small bathroom. "Are you mad at me? I'm sorry I didn't accompany you to the beach, Jean-Luc."
He unconsciously flinched. Everyone was apologizing to him lately. All the while, he was the one acting rude and irresponsible. Lifting his head, he looked at her for the first time since his escape from the beach. Her brunette hair damp from the humidity, her eyes sleep-deprived, Felicia smiled faintly at him. She stopped in front of the bed and touched his jaw gently. This woman was beautiful, he realized, looking her all over, the light, floral dress she'd chosen perfectly complementing her slender sculpture. And she was definitely what most human males would call quite a catch. It was only he who could not be satisfied with the things he had. "No, I'm sorry." He murmured softly, "I shouldn't have left you alone. Are you... feeling better?" He caught her hand and held it, meeting her gaze.
"Better now," she admitted as she cradled his head. "Your friend Beverly gave me an herbal treatment this morning. I can tell she knows what she's doing beyond traditional medicine."
He instantly winced and stiffened again. This woman seemed to be evolving into a curse. "She's not my friend."
Felicia stifled a laugh. "Okay, your friend's friend. But she's tough, though, isn't she? She came over when I called and brought that... sort of herbal tea. Did you know she's going to be a doctor?"
Tough, yes. And a pain in my ass. Picard couldn't prevent a groan from leaving his throat. "Of course, I do." This conversation was getting out of hand and he certainly had no intention of talking about Beverly Howard again, let alone thinking about her. He grabbed Felicia's waist and pulled her rudely closer until she was clinging to his knees. "But I'd rather discuss our... development here," he growled, his hands snaking around her very feminine hips and his explicit gaze roaming over her exposed, slightly tanned skin.
Her hazel eyes widened in surprise, unfamiliar with this new, straightforward attitude he was displaying. Until now, he had only shone with softer, more respectful words and actions. If this happened when she dared to mention his redheaded not-friend, she would definitely try that tactic more often. Anyway, she filed this interesting information away for later. "I'm all ears, Jean-Luc," she said smugly, slipping closer into his embrace. Arching forward, she met his hungry mouth in a desperate kiss, her tongue eagerly diving into his welcoming heat. Picard was a passionate man and although she had only known him for a few weeks, she already more than appreciated his devotion in everything he did. Felicia sighed heavily as she felt his greedy hands roam over her body, racing quickly upward. She smoothly slid between his knees to move even closer and cupped his head, finally straddling his lap to climb on top of him. As she settled down, she became aware of how eager he really was. He'd always been easy to seduce, but this time he was on fire before she'd even touched him.
An irritated chuckle escaped her lips as she watched him shut his eyes, reveling in the feel of her gentle ministrations, sweat glistening on his prominent brow. Perhaps he was on fire with a lot of things, she mused, welcoming the warmth that spread through her chest and limbs at the mere assumption. Because without thinking twice, she would like to move into something more binding with the man she knew so little about, but already admired more than was probably healthy given their current, loose status. His lips parted slightly, his breathing had long since become labored, and his digits raked up her sides, removing the thin straps of her dress from her shoulders. The fabric slipped easily, granting him access to her bare chest. Felicia held her breath anxiously as his ravenous lips conquered her heated skin, his face nudging the hollow between her breasts. Swallowing the tension, she cradled his head closer, welcoming his eager tongue licking over her excited buds as his hands roughly, almost painfully, cupped her rear to pull her tight. "Jean-Luc," she sighed like a silent prayer and let her head fall back, feeling the waves begin to crash against her sensitive shore. And then she felt him freeze. Her skin quivered with apprehension, waiting for him to continue. The goosebumps grew along with his sudden growl that erupted from somewhere deep in his gut, rising futilely like a volcano. Before she could even move, he pulled back and blinked at her. Irritated, confused.
Jean-Luc fixed her large deer eyes and suddenly his features became frantic, the sweat forming larger beads on his forehead. Where the hell had he been, crossed Felicia's mind as her heart skipped a beat. "Jean-Luc?"
"I'm..." he stammered, "I'm sorry." He jumped to his feet, completely oblivious to the fact that he was practically knocking her off and away. He stifled a strange yelp, cradled his head in panic, ran a hand over his pate, and shook vigorously just by looking at her.
Felicia rose as well, dumbstruck, and saw his entire body and hands shaking violently. "What is wrong, Jean-Luc?" she managed, struggling to stifle the panic and trying to get a hold on herself. Had he just... literally tossed her off?
With a sharp intake of breath, he met her eyes again, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation he suddenly found himself in. Just when had those soft brown eyes turned into the familiar, stormy sapphire infinity he knew so well? His gut rebelled and made him shy away from the possibility of throwing up in the middle of their room.
"Jean-Luc!" Felicia frantically called out, but was only rewarded with his hasty retreat and a fast-closing bathroom door. She leapt after him immediately and banged on said door. "Jean-Luc, talk to me. Please."
For a moment she imagined a stifled sob, but then he turned on the shower, covering any subsequent sounds with the noisily running water. Feeling her heart race painfully in her ears, while her both hands were placed still flat on the door, Felicia sighed audibly. Was there something she didn't know about Jean-Luc Picard? And, furthermost, did she care to know?