Title: Between the Boys and the Bees.
Series: Star Trek:TNG
Pairing: R/T, P/C, various.
Summary: It causes problems, this eavesdropping on the private fantasies of her fellow crewmen.
Notes: Written god knows how long ago. About five years, I think. And I know that Deanna’s only empathic, but the extent of her abilities have never been specified. So I thought I’d make it up as I go along.
She never means to do it. The first time it happened, the entire ship was overrun with that damn inhibition-shattering virus, and the tumult of human emotions after so long on Betazed was dizzying, foreign, erotic. The merest slip of Will's mind against hers, his hand on her waist as he casually tossed her over his shoulder, had sent her into spasms. He had paused, shocked at what he felt, at the scent of her nostalgically playing on his senses. And after that...it's never her fault, it's never something she seeks out. Most people, regardless of species, don't pay any attention to what they're projecting. Those who do... it's usually an ensign or cadet who hasn't been onboard long enough to know that thinking dirty thoughts in front of the empathic ship's counselor technically counts as sexual harassment and earns them a sharp warning in their casefile. As such, it's very rarely sexy. But when it comes from an unexpected source...she shivers at the thought, at the tangled memories. Sitting behind the Captain during a concert as he watched Neela Daren play the piano and imagined her fingers moving across his skin. Music has never been so erotic as it was then, with Will so close she could inhale his aftershave and brush against his thigh when she squirmed in her seat. And knowing that Neela was performing for the Captain alone, that in every touch of skin on ivory she was foreshadowing the movement of her fingers over his torso, tangling in coarse, wiry hair...
It causes problems, this eavesdropping on the private fantasies of her fellow crewmen. She feels the same sharp stab of desire that they do, too delicously sweet to resist. The thoughts creep in without warning, until she is imagining tracing Beverly's jawline with her tongue, and nibbling on the neck that Jean-Luc finds so inviting, and all during a routine briefing of the senior officers. If she were less scrupulous, she could make a fortune in blackmail from the senior staff alone.
Sometimes the emotions blindside her completely, for all she prides herself on knowing the inner workings of the crew’s psyche. When Vash came onboard, the Captain’s mental blocks reinforced themselves a hundredfold, Will leered and Worf growled. But underneath the peevish, possessive jealousy, Beverly Crusher’s feelings came as a shock. If it was just a passing thought, Deanna could have dismissed it as curiosity following the encounter with Odan, but when one’s loved friend and respected colleague has continued and persistent thoughts about ripping the Maid Marian outfit off Vash with her teeth and…well, it becomes a little harder to ignore.
She goes through her day with a myriad of emotions prickling at her skin – fear, greed, lust, sadness, passion, intense loneliness – that she momentarily forgets who she is. Her dark eyes widen in horror as her hand moves out to caress her Captain’s shoulder whilst standing next to Beverly in Sickbay. She snatches it back, cradling it protectively against her chest, and meets no-one’s eyes when he turns and gives her an odd look that she probably deserves. She sees him through Beverly’s eyes and salivates as he bends over to check on an injured officer. Her imagination runs riot as red hair is swept back with a slender hand, exposing a creamy, kissable neck. When K’Ehleyr came onboard she could barely restrain herself when Worf spent his duty shifts thinking about rough skin against skin, the slightly human musk of hers mixed in with Klingon scent, the taste of the inside of her thigh as a rough mouth works it’s way up…
One night with Will, she tries out the little trick with her tongue that Beverly was using on Jean-Luc in her mind the whole way through her last shift. He jerks in her mouth, and every single tastebud on her tongue comes alive with the flavour of him. He snuggles, spent, into her mass of dark hair and murmurs, “Where did you learn that?” She smiles, her mouth moving against the thick fabric of a partially removed uniform, and presses a quiet kiss onto his torso.