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A very small smile played upon Jean-Luc's lips as a lock of red hair fell across the cheek of the woman sleeping on his couch. She now lay on her side; her hands nestled under her chin, her knees drawn up. He could see those knees clearly now for the hem of the simple cream dress that she wore had moved up high on her thighs as she slumbered. He could see more and more of the smooth skin of her long legs and found that he was gripping the book that he was holding to the point of damaging it. He set the volume down and moved down to his knees in front of her figure on the couch.

His hands ached to touch her there, on that magnificent skin of her legs. He imagined that it would be as soft and silky as the petals of a rose. His fingers moved closer to their coveted treasure, trembling with the need to feel her skin just once.

She stirred again, slightly, and he froze mid-gesture, anxiously looking at her face. Had she caught him? No. She was still asleep.

He swallowed hard and moved back to his chair across from her. He scolded himself for almost giving in to the sweet temptation that always accompanied her presence. She's your best friend, Jean-Luc, he told himself. And she has made it painfully clear that she doesn't want to be anything more to you. You've got to get over this attraction to her. But he knew that he would never be able to get over his attraction to her. He had known that years ago, when he had thought that it was gone, only to have it flare up again from some forgotten smoldering embers. Jean-Luc knew that he would want her until the day he died.

She let out a heavy sigh and settled deeper into his couch. Jean-Luc wondered if he should wake her to return to her own quarters, let her sleep on his couch for the night, or carry into his bed. The third option sent a jolt of emotion through him that was truly staggering. Beverly in my bed. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the sight of her long red hair spilling across his pillows; to imagine the feel of the heat from her body warming the sheets. He opened his eyes and looked at her again. This was almost too much to bear.

The evening had begun innocently enough, even if it ended with Beverly asleep on the Captain's couch with him having libidinous thoughts about her being in his bed. The Enterprise had stopped to help in the rescue effort of a freighter that had crashed on a moon. Beverly had worked through the night and all day with her staff to send over extra medical supplies and care for the wounded. When they left orbit, it was well after dinnertime. Jean-Luc had eaten a light meal alone in his ready room, but as he headed to his quarters an hour later, he wondered if Beverly had even stopped to have dinner herself. She had missed breakfast with him this morning and, if he knew her as well as he should after so many years of friendship, she had probably missed lunch as well.

He swung by her office and, sure enough, found her frowning over the terminal on her desk. She did not even hear him enter and was startled when he came around her desk and touched her shoulder.

"Jean-Luc, you scared me," she said a little crossly and turned back to her terminal.

He moved to stand behind her and began to gently massage her tense shoulders. She closed her eyes and melted against him immediately.

"You're tired," he said gently.

"I'm tired," she agreed.

"Come on. Why don't you come have some dinner, then go to bed?"

She started to protest, but he squeezed her shoulders to silence her.

"These reports will be here in the morning," he said firmly. He moved her chair away from the desk. "Come on." He grasped her hand and pulled her wearily out of the chair.

"I can't argue with you, Jean-Luc. I'm too tired."

With his hand on her shoulder, he led her out of sickbay and into the turbolift. "Deck 8," she called and then turned to him. "I'd like a quick shower and to change before dinner if that's all right with you, Captain," she said with a little smile.

"Of course, Doctor," he replied. "You do that and I'll have your dinner all ready for you when you are done."

The 'lift doors parted and they stepped into the corridor.

"Give me a half-hour, Jean-Luc and I'll be down."

"Your dinner will be waiting."

He had a plate of lasagna, complete with Italian bread and wine ready for her by the time she breezed into his quarters. She wore a simple cream colored, short-sleeve dress with tiny pearlesque buttons down the front, with a fitted bodice and a flared skirt that did not quite reach to her knees.

He, too, had changed out of uniform and was now wearing a V-cut blue silk shirt and loose-fitting, dark blue trousers. He hadn't bothered to put any shoes on since he was busy preparing her meal, and greeted her at the door barefoot. She noticed this immediately.

"Well, aren't we informal," she quipped indicating his absent footwear. She harumphed. "Well, when in Rome." With that, she kicked of her own shoes and padded over to the table to eat.

Jean-Luc snacked on some fruit and wine while she ate her dinner. There was very little conversation, so he ordered the computer to play some soft jazz to abolish the silence. As a piano tinkered away in the background, he watched her devour her meal. Even after years of eating meals with this woman, it never ceased to amaze him how fast Beverly could make large quantities of food disappear. Her appetite was voracious.

After two helpings of lasagna and an ice cream sundae, she finally stood and stretched. "That was delicious, Jean-Luc. Thank you." She grabbed her wine glass and drained it, then crossed the room and flopped down onto his couch.

He sat in the chair directly opposite her and watched as she stretched out on her back. She gave a contented sigh and turned her head to smile at him. He was nearly lost in the blue wonder of her eyes. They seemed endless and her smile was making them shine brighter than the brightest of stars. His heart leaped into his throat and he felt a little lightheaded. This happened to him every time she looked at him this way. He was a drowning man that gratefully breathed in the water. He almost didn't hear her when she spoke.

"What are you reading?" She pointed to the book on the table with one graceful finger.

Jean-Luc reached for his book and swallowed hard, hoping that his voice wouldn't sound hoarse when he talked. "It's a book of T'treinan mythology," he said clearing his throat.

"Oh. Interesting?"

"Yes, very." He smiled mischievously. "In fact, there's a myth in here about a fire goddess. She is extremely beautiful with long red hair."

Beverly rose an eyebrow at the Captain. "Oh, really."

He nodded and tried to not to smile so broadly. "Yes, really. The myth goes that she was reputed for being kind and gentle, but had a very bad temper. Angering her would most certainly bring you to a fiery end."

"So she burned up her enemies?" The idea had its appeal.

"Um-hmm. And not just her enemies--" Jean-Luc broke off, suddenly remembering the rest of the myth. He now wished that he hadn't brought it up.

But Beverly's curiosity was peaked. She rose up on one elbow. "Who else?" she asked, her hair falling softly down her arm. "Who else did she burn up?"

The Captain swallowed. "Her lovers."

Beverly smiled broadly. "Ooooh, do tell."

He looked at her quizzically then smiled himself. Leave it to Beverly to be thoroughly interested in a woman who sets fire to a man after making love. "Well," he began, thumbing through the book for the story, "it seems this goddess would take a liking to a man, seduce him and," he read directly from the book, " 'consume him within the fiery realm of her climatic passion.' "

"My goodness! Weren't men afraid of her?"

Jean-Luc shook his head. "No. In fact, many, many men sought her out in hopes of catching her fancy. According to the myth, the one man who could survive her flames would hold her heart for all eternity."

"So these men would risk a horrible death for the love of this goddess?"

"They thought it was worth it."

"Would you?" she asked, gazing at him steadily.

Jean-Luc held his breath to keep the thought that leapt into his mind from being spoken: If you were the goddess, I would in a minute. As soon as the thought was complete, though, a little smile pulled at her mouth, as if she had heard it anyway. For a few moments neither of them spoke, but the electricity charged between them stronger than ever before. Her little smile began to waver, and Jean-Luc suspected that Beverly was becoming as unnerved by that feeling as he was.

She gave a nervous laugh and settled onto her back once more. Her eyes looked straight up. "Tell me another myth, Jean-Luc," she said to the ceiling.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. That was close. I'd better be careful. He flipped through the book searching for a less provocative myth. He found one and began to read. After about fifteen minutes, he looked up from the pages to see that she had fallen asleep. I guess this one was a little too dull, he thought.

That was two hours ago, and now he sat wondering what to do. He began to evaluate his options. He knew she was very tired, so he didn't want to wake her to go back to her quarters. He also knew that he probably couldn't carry her to his room without waking her up (though he was partial the to idea of her in his bed). So the only option left was to leave her where she was. She looked very comfortable, so there was really no need to wake her, was there?

Reluctantly, Jean-Luc got up and walked to his room. He returned a few seconds later with a light wool blanket that he draped lovingly over her. He watched her for a few more minutes to see if she would stir. When she didn't, he touched her hair slightly with his lips, ordered the lights down and retired to his bed, alone.

~ ~ ~

Beverly awoke with a start and sat straight up on the couch. It took her all of two seconds to realize that she had fallen asleep on Jean-Luc's couch. The room was darkened now, except for the soft light coming from his bedroom. She glanced at the chronometer. It was just past 1230 hours. She guessed from the light that Jean-Luc was still awake. She resigned herself to apologize to him before returning to her own quarters. Beverly went to the threshold of his bedroom and looked inside. He was indeed awake, lying in bed and reading a book.

"Jean-Luc," she said taking a tentative step inside.

He looked up at her and sat up straight in the bed. He looked like he was about to jump out of bed, but she put up a staying hand. He was not wearing a pajama shirt and the sight of his bare chest was already playing havoc with her senses. Seeing the rest of him would surely push her over the edge.

"Jean-Luc, I'm sorry I fell asleep. I wasn't a very good guest."

He smiled at her, seemingly not concerned about his state of half-dress. "That's all right, Beverly. I know how tired you were. No harm done."

She relaxed and took a few more steps inside. She was now standing at the foot of his bed. "Why didn't you wake me?" she inquired.

Jean-Luc averted his eyes from hers and shrugged. "You looked comfortable... peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you."

Beverly felt waves of emotion move through her. He was such a good friend to her, her best friend. He was always thinking of her needs above his own. She would make this up to him one day. Now completely relaxed, she moved up the side of the bed to stand closer to him.

"What would I do without you, Jean-Luc? If it weren't for you, I would no doubt still be in sickbay with those reports."

He smiled genuinely at her. "No doubt. Really, Beverly, it's nothing that you haven't done for me many times over." He looked down at the book in his hands.

"I know, but it's special all the same. Thank you."

She would never know what possessed her in that moment, but, impulsively, Beverly climbed onto his bed and bent to place a kiss on his cheek---

---at the same moment that he decided to look back up at her.

Their lips met and time stood still.

The shock of the contact paralyzed them both. Neither pulled away. They just remained as they were: she on her hands and knees on his bed and he sitting with his legs under the covers, their lips touching in something that was not yet a kiss. Beverly didn't know what to do. She couldn't move. She trembled as he expelled a shaky breath across her lips, and felt the heat of his breath move through her entire body. Desire moved through her like lightening, heightening her senses. She fought to control these feeling that were bubbling up within her, but her strength of will was failing her. Beverly thought about how long she had been in love with him, this man, her Captain and her best friend. She thought about how long she had fought the attraction that she had for him. She thought about the last time she had touched her lips to his after they had returned from KesPrytt. And she thought about the complete emptiness she had felt after she had left him that night. Beverly didn't want another night like that. She didn't want to lie in her lonely bed and wonder what it would be like to sleep in Jean-Luc Picard's warm embrace. She didn't want to drift off to sleep and dream of what it would be like to make love to him. She wanted to experience these things. She now had the opportunity to grasp it all. Her eyes slid closed.

Gently, she pressed her mouth softly against his. When he didn't move at first, she thought that perhaps he didn't want this. She began to pull back, but she heard the book thud to the floor as he tossed it aside and his hands came up and into her hair. He lay back, pulling her on top of him and returned her kiss fully.

She parted her lips for him and felt his tongue slip through them teasingly. She smiled against him at the small sigh that escaped his throat. She ran her hands over his bare arms, enjoying the feel of the skin, marveling in the hardness of the muscles. A moan sounded deep in her throat as his gentle hands caressed their way down her back.

Suddenly, Jean-Luc rolled them over so that he was on top of her. He broke their kiss long enough to kick the covers out of the way. He wanted nothing between their two bodies. He had waited for so long, had wanted her so much. Now he would make love to her; he would hold her in his arms and tell her with his body that he was in love with her. Dipping his face into her neck, he began to nuzzle her elegant throat while his fingers worked on the buttons to the dress. Her hands moved restlessly over his shoulders and neck. He kissed her collarbone, then her chest, and lower until he got to her breasts, slowly being uncovered. In a way, Jean-Luc was teasing himself by slowly disrobing her. His eyes were hungry and ready to feast upon her silken skin. Finally, he pulled back to undo the last button.

He sat on his heels, straddling her knees and pulled her into a sitting position. She immediately embraced him in another passionate kiss, her tongue pushing its way into his mouth. Beverly's hands danced down his chest, caressing his abdomen and moving down to squeeze his thighs. She moved her hands along the silk of his pajama pants, reveling in the hardness of his legs, of the strength they represented. She ached to free him from those pants, to see him and to touch him. She had moved her hands to the waistband, intent on capturing the prize inside, when he grasped her hands and placed them at her sides. She moaned into his mouth.

It took every ounce of willpower he had to pull away from that kiss, but he did. He looked into her shining blue eyes made smoky by the desire that smoldered inside her. His heart sung with the realization that she wanted him--that she loved him--as much as he loved and wanted her.

Jean-Luc couldn't wait any longer.

Slowly, he drew the dress away from her. His body leapt in response to the sight of the generous swell of her breasts encased within the satin of her bra, the hardened peaks pressed tight against the thin fabric. His eyes traveled down her flat abdomen. The skin was the color of the richest buttermilk and he desperately wanted to taste it. His hands moved to the soft straps of the bra, gently coaxing them down her shoulders. She moved her hand behind her back and with a flick of her fingers the clasp was undone and the garment fell down her arms. She tossed it to the floor.

Jean-Luc could only resist his urges for a few fragile seconds before he dove face-first into her creamy skin. He pushed her to her back as he moved his mouth over her breast, taking the nipple between his lips and caressing it with an eager tongue. He smiled as she gasped deep within her throat and whispered his name. He licked and kissed his way across her chest to the other mound, where he did the same. Her back arched off the bed to meet him.

Never moving his mouth from her tender nipple, he rolled them back over so that she was on top of him, her hair cascading down around her flushed face like a red tide. His name ripped from her throat as he gently bit the peak within his mouth. Pleased with her responsiveness, he moved his hands down her sides, his fingers hooking onto the waistband of the satin panties on the way. As he moved his hands down her thighs, he dragged the undergarment with him until he finally whisked it off her legs and tossed it away.

As Jean-Luc's hands moved up the backs of her thighs, tremors of passion moved through Beverly's body. The feel of his gentle, but insistent touch upon the backs of her thighs was driving her insane with desire. And she could feel the hard length of him pressed against her leg. She wanted that part of him now, and it was pure torture not to have him. She gasped when his hands suddenly thrust her thighs apart so that she was now straddling his stomach and he rolled them over once again.

The gleam of love and desire in his eyes moved Beverly to tears. They welled in her eyes and slid down her face. Jean-Luc bent to kiss them away lovingly.

As his mouth moved down to her ear, he felt twenty-five years worth of emotions explode inside him. He gathered her close in his arms, squeezing her tightly. He put his mouth closer to her and felt her do the same.

"I love you."

The words were spoken simultaneously, and a rose of passion blossomed over them. Their lips found each other once more and, this time, her hands became insistent. She grasped hold of the waist of the pants and pulled them down to his knees. She raised her foot to drag them down the rest of the way. She gasped at the feel of the naked heat of his hardness against her bare thigh. They both moved a hand down between them, and Beverly nearly screamed both at the closing of her fingers around his manhood and at the feel of his fingers dipping into her. He probed and found the spot that made her gasp and her thighs quiver. Gently, he stroked her, savoring the feel of her and wanting so much more of her. Her hand closed tighter around him and she reciprocated, stroking him lightly from the base to the tip and back again. He shook at her expert touches.

Finally, neither of them could take this divine teasing any longer. As their eyes met, they knew that it was time to become one. It was a moment that they had waited all their lives for.

Jean-Luc moved his hand from her wetness and grasped her hips. She removed her hand also, placing it on his back, and instinct guided him flawlessly to her.

He sucked in a ragged breath at the first contact, and pushed forward, feeling her open up to him and surround him in her fire. He looked at her beautiful face and could see the beckoning in his goddess's eyes. She wanted all of him and he would gladly give it. With agonizing slowness, he pushed forward, sliding into her, parting her easily until he was as far as he could go. His eyes remained locked with hers as she expelled the breath that she had been holding since that first touch of his body to hers. She blinked slowly and bit her bottom lip. There was unbridled passion in her eyes now and it was a passion that mirrored his own.

They began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency as the flames of passion slowly built. They rocked together, the thrusts coming faster and faster, the breathing more rapid, the soft moans and cries more and more intense. And finally, the ecstasy began to ripple deep within her and he could feel it; not only with the part of his body that was joined with hers, but with his soul. He could feel it coming closer and closer until, at long last, something like fire was coming from her, reaching for him and pulling him with her and he could feel it, her passion explode around him, the flames leaping from her and into him and he heard a cry and realized that it was his own as he descended deep into her welcoming fire.

Beverly lay with her eyes closed for several minutes, cherishing the weight of his body upon hers. She moved her arms around his back and hugged him closer. A smile formed on her lips.

Jean-Luc pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her face. Her smile made his heart sing with joy.

"What? You're still alive?" she asked playfully, "I thought you'd be burnt to a crisp by now."

He laughed and kissed her nose. "No. I seems that I can survive the flames, and you know what that means, don't you?"

"That you'll hold my heart forever."

He looked at her seriously, question in his eyes. "Will I?"

She smiled at him lovingly and hugged him even closer. "Forever."

Jean-Luc kissed her gently, knowing that she meant it. They would be together forever. He moved his arms underneath her and squeezed her hard until she started to laugh.

"Hey, I'm going to need those bones for structural support if you're going to get the chance to try and survive another bath of fire so don't break them just yet," she said impishly. "That is, if you think that you can survive it again." The sultry challenge mingled with the desire in her voice.

His own desires reawakening, he ran a hand over her breast and flicked his tongue along the curve of her neck. "I've proven to be pretty fire-resistant so far," he said against her skin.

Beverly sighed at his ministrations and turned her head to whisper in his ear.

"The night is young."

And the flames began to build once more.

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Monica---smut virgin no more