Fic: Loving the Klingon; Deanna/K'Eylehr; M
Title: Loving the Klingon
Pairings: Deanna/K'Eylehr; Deanna/Worf
Rating: M
Word Count: 800
Summary: There's no way Deanna can explain to Worf why she's already familiar with Klingon mating practices.
Worf was uncomfortable talking about this, Deanna knew. There was no getting away from it, though. He'd taken her out to dinner twice now, and they'd been for walks in the holodeck and had drinks in her quarters. She'd been coming on pretty strong, but he'd been reluctant, and she was fairly sure she knew why.
'Deanna,' he said, looking down into his drink, 'you must know that I am very... fond of you.'
'Fond?' she teased.
He looked pained.
'I'm sorry,' she said, trying to keep a straight face. 'Do go on.'
'But if this relationship is to go any further,' he said, 'I must warn you that... I... if we begin intimate relations, I am not sure that I would not harm you,' he said, all in a rush. 'Of course I would never do anything deliberately to hurt you, but it is difficult for a Klingon... and you are... well... so small.'
'You assume that I intend for us to begin intimate relations,' Deanna said, grinning.
'I... you just seemed... enthusiastic about the idea...' he said, and if Klingons blushed, Deanna swore he was right now.
'I'm sorry Worf, I'm just teasing you,' she said, trying for an apologetic tone. 'But let me reassure you, I'm not as fragile as I look. I can handle it.'
Worf looked doubtful.
Deanna was certain that she could stand the intensity of Klingon lovemaking, but there was no way she could tell Worf how she knew that.
* * *
What had happened (twice) between her and Ambassador K'Eylehr had been very unprofessional, extremely poorly-timed, and some of the best sex Deanna had had in her entire life. It wasn't that her other lovers had been unsatisfactory - far from it - but the young men she had dated on Betazed had all been the same, somehow - soft, giving, earnestly determined, and they made it feel more like reading a poem than having sex. And Will, bless him, was an accomplished lover - at least after a bit of coaching - but he still tended to treat the whole thing like a competition.
With K'Eylehr, it was different. K'Eylehr didn't ask what Deanna wanted, or whether she was doing it right. She just knew. She didn't stop to ask whether it was too much or whether it hurt, assuming, correctly, that Deanna would make her feelings known if she felt it necessary.
She had entered Deanna's quarters, wanting to vent, to blow off steam. She paced, ranted, and Deanna let her, knowing it was what she needed.
The aggression that K'Eylehr reined in most of the time spilled out of her and Deanna caught the taste of it, and a thrill of something else, her attraction, her desire. Usually Deanna tried not to let the emotions of others take her over, but this time it was welcome, and she opened herself to K'Eylehr's nervous excitement, letting it mingle with and enhance her own emotions.
Deanna made the first move, but she felt that it had been K'Eylehr's idea - the Betazoid sense of smell was not particularly acute, but she found herself grabbing K'Eylehr's wrist, sniffing it, as she pulled the other woman towards her. She wasn't even sure why. K'Eylehr responded with a breathy growl, and her hand clutched at Deanna's head to guide it towards her own and they kissed, hard, gripping each other tightly.
Suddenly Deanna wanted to throw things. Some small voice reminded her that the things in her quarters were delicate and probably wouldn't appreciate it, so instead she pushed K'Eylehr to the ground with a fierce cry, and they rolled together, and now Deanna wasn't sure whether what they were doing counted as fighting, but she knew she wanted to keep on doing it.
Somewhere along the line, their clothes came away, torn off by impatient claws as they scrabbled to be closer, grabbing and pushing and biting. And after that there was nothing Deanna could analyse, nothing she could put words to and neatly categorize, only hot skin and wet mouths and hands clutching, sounds and crashing motion and bodies thrown together and carried onwards with the momentum.
* * *
Luckily, Deanna had a dermal regenerator. And a hairbrush.
When the ambassador left some time afterward, nobody would have guessed that she had been there for anything but a discussion about the mission. But Deanna thought of the bite marks on the ambassador's shoulder, the scratches on her thigh, and she smiled to herself.
* * *
'So?' Deanna asked, lolling lazily against Worf on his bedroom floor and raising her eyebrows up at him.
He attempted to gather himself. His breathing was still rather heavy.
'I was... impressed by your enthusiasm... and prowess,' he managed to say.
Deanna just grinned.
Pairings: Deanna/K'Eylehr; Deanna/Worf
Rating: M
Word Count: 800
Summary: There's no way Deanna can explain to Worf why she's already familiar with Klingon mating practices.
Worf was uncomfortable talking about this, Deanna knew. There was no getting away from it, though. He'd taken her out to dinner twice now, and they'd been for walks in the holodeck and had drinks in her quarters. She'd been coming on pretty strong, but he'd been reluctant, and she was fairly sure she knew why.
'Deanna,' he said, looking down into his drink, 'you must know that I am very... fond of you.'
'Fond?' she teased.
He looked pained.
'I'm sorry,' she said, trying to keep a straight face. 'Do go on.'
'But if this relationship is to go any further,' he said, 'I must warn you that... I... if we begin intimate relations, I am not sure that I would not harm you,' he said, all in a rush. 'Of course I would never do anything deliberately to hurt you, but it is difficult for a Klingon... and you are... well... so small.'
'You assume that I intend for us to begin intimate relations,' Deanna said, grinning.
'I... you just seemed... enthusiastic about the idea...' he said, and if Klingons blushed, Deanna swore he was right now.
'I'm sorry Worf, I'm just teasing you,' she said, trying for an apologetic tone. 'But let me reassure you, I'm not as fragile as I look. I can handle it.'
Worf looked doubtful.
Deanna was certain that she could stand the intensity of Klingon lovemaking, but there was no way she could tell Worf how she knew that.
* * *
What had happened (twice) between her and Ambassador K'Eylehr had been very unprofessional, extremely poorly-timed, and some of the best sex Deanna had had in her entire life. It wasn't that her other lovers had been unsatisfactory - far from it - but the young men she had dated on Betazed had all been the same, somehow - soft, giving, earnestly determined, and they made it feel more like reading a poem than having sex. And Will, bless him, was an accomplished lover - at least after a bit of coaching - but he still tended to treat the whole thing like a competition.
With K'Eylehr, it was different. K'Eylehr didn't ask what Deanna wanted, or whether she was doing it right. She just knew. She didn't stop to ask whether it was too much or whether it hurt, assuming, correctly, that Deanna would make her feelings known if she felt it necessary.
She had entered Deanna's quarters, wanting to vent, to blow off steam. She paced, ranted, and Deanna let her, knowing it was what she needed.
The aggression that K'Eylehr reined in most of the time spilled out of her and Deanna caught the taste of it, and a thrill of something else, her attraction, her desire. Usually Deanna tried not to let the emotions of others take her over, but this time it was welcome, and she opened herself to K'Eylehr's nervous excitement, letting it mingle with and enhance her own emotions.
Deanna made the first move, but she felt that it had been K'Eylehr's idea - the Betazoid sense of smell was not particularly acute, but she found herself grabbing K'Eylehr's wrist, sniffing it, as she pulled the other woman towards her. She wasn't even sure why. K'Eylehr responded with a breathy growl, and her hand clutched at Deanna's head to guide it towards her own and they kissed, hard, gripping each other tightly.
Suddenly Deanna wanted to throw things. Some small voice reminded her that the things in her quarters were delicate and probably wouldn't appreciate it, so instead she pushed K'Eylehr to the ground with a fierce cry, and they rolled together, and now Deanna wasn't sure whether what they were doing counted as fighting, but she knew she wanted to keep on doing it.
Somewhere along the line, their clothes came away, torn off by impatient claws as they scrabbled to be closer, grabbing and pushing and biting. And after that there was nothing Deanna could analyse, nothing she could put words to and neatly categorize, only hot skin and wet mouths and hands clutching, sounds and crashing motion and bodies thrown together and carried onwards with the momentum.
* * *
Luckily, Deanna had a dermal regenerator. And a hairbrush.
When the ambassador left some time afterward, nobody would have guessed that she had been there for anything but a discussion about the mission. But Deanna thought of the bite marks on the ambassador's shoulder, the scratches on her thigh, and she smiled to herself.
* * *
'So?' Deanna asked, lolling lazily against Worf on his bedroom floor and raising her eyebrows up at him.
He attempted to gather himself. His breathing was still rather heavy.
'I was... impressed by your enthusiasm... and prowess,' he managed to say.
Deanna just grinned.