"Let Your Hair Down" [NC17]
By Lal Soong

This short branch story takes place while Worf and Deanna's daughter is aboard an alien vessel in TTN 122.

"She's gone," Deanna said. The words sounded so final, and she fell to her knees, leaning her head against the soft floor of the transporter pad. Reaching for the spot where only a moment ago her daughter had stood, she cried out her little girl's name. "Shannara!"

Worf stepped from around the operator's console to join his wife. He felt every bit of her anguish, but being a Klingon, he managed through stern determination not to show it. After waving the others off, Picard, Beverly, and Data, he wrapped his arms around Deanna, brushing her hair with his fingers.

"When will they return her to us, Worf?" she begged of him. Lifting her head, she peered into her husband's well-mannered face. He wiped at her tears gently with the tips of his fingers.

"I believe they will take good care of her," he assured her. Silently, Worf tried to convince himself of that truth. "Nevertheless, it will serve no purpose for us to remain here vigilantly awaiting her return." He released his hold around her and stood. Offering her his hand to help her up, he added, "It could be days before Shannara returns. Why don't we rendevous to our quarters?....enjoy a hot chocolate, maybe even a back rub."

Deanna's demeanor softened as she accepted Worf's hand. She stood, playfully running her hand through his beard. "It has been a long time since we've had the luxury of spending a day in bed without the threat of children interrupting us." Walking toward the exit, she swayed her hips, and with a pause at the door, she turned slightly and ran her tongue across her lower lip. She disappeared as the door swished closed behind her.

Worf growled as he felt himself hardening against the tight fabric of his uniform. "Wench!" he exclaimed and followed her out the door.

She did not slow her stride even enough to look back to see if Worf was following her. She knew; he knew she knew. Barely able to suppress the urge to ravage her out in the corridor, Worf matched her pace, keeping a short distance between them.

She entered their quarters.

Closing the gap in seconds, Worf hesitated outside the door to adjust his uniform. Wearing it was growing increasingly uncomfortable! Once inside, he found his wife standing before the replicator. She removed two steaming cups from the unit and turned toward him. "Hot chocolate?" she asked him.

I would rather make our own steam, he thought, approaching her. Then he thought about how delicious foreplay always was between them and graciously accepted the cocoa. "Thank you." They sipped at their drinks, their stares not wavering from each other. A small amount of chocolate dribbled onto Deanna's chin and before she had her hand completely raised to wipe it away, Worf leaned toward her and licked her clean. Not giving him a chance to escape, she caught his tongue with her mouth. He felt a shudder run from his ridged chest down his abdomen and below.

Their cups fell on the floor, splashing the blue carpet, but they paid them no heed. Worf scooped Deanna up into his arms and carried her into their bedroom. Enough foreplay! he decided. Practically throwing her onto the bed in Klingon fashion, he proceeded to unfasten her uniform. He thrust his arm under her blouse to fondle her breasts and immediately felt her responding. She rocked underneath him and lapped at his ear.

"Worf," she whispered and maneuvered her body enough so she could slip the blouse off. As he tilted his head forward to tongue her nipples, she unfastened the tie around his hair and untwined his braid. Glancing up at Deanna, he let out a warrior's growl. She growled back, lowering her hands to his butt and squeezing him closer to her. "Darling," she hissed, "show me more!"

Unzipping his uniform, Worf rolled his shirt off his shoulders. He felt the sting as his mate bit into his right shoulder and a trickle of blood ran down his arm. Licking it away, she caused shivers to rise up from Worf's gut. He slithered the rest of the way out of his clothes and Deanna took her opportunity to provide him with a little oral gratification. Rocking with her mouth, Worf grew increasingly excited and brought his hands to her shoulders to quicken the pace. Nearly coming, he roared with satisfaction.

Deanna raised up and he helped her the rest of the way out of her uniform, his fingers dancing artfully between her thighs and causing her to moan with pleasure. She grew wet, and he brought his hand to his mouth to taste her. Sniffing, he sensed her readiness. He lowered back on to her gently poking his member at the patch between her thighs. Aiding his efforts, she wrapped her ankles around his backside and clasped her hands around his neck. Both of them let out a moan as he penetrated her.

"Worf," she uttered as she brought her lips to his. Their tongues met, keeping pace with the rhythm below until they both exploded. They remained joined for minutes afterward, running their hands through each others' long locks.

"I'm debating," Deanna said, breaking the long silence, "whether to take a shower first or to eat."

As gratifying as his intimate times were with his mate, Worf always felt a strong need to immediately refresh himself afterward. "Shower," he replied and with a lecherous smile, added, "together."

"Great! I'd love the opportunity to wash that hair of yours."

Worf nodded. He was pleased that he could still show his wife a good time. I have a few more creative ways to help keep her mind off our daughter, he thought and followed her into the bathroom......