~*~I~*~

The Ten Forward Lounge was dimly lit and had soft music playing in the background–"One For The Road", an old Terran ballad by the 20th Century artist, Frank Sinatra–to serenade the few remaining customers left at the end of another busy evening.

It was 0300 hours, last call, and Guinan, the enigmatic bartender, in a flowing lavender robe and matching tall hat, was polishing a crystal tumbler when she noticed that there was still one customer sitting at the end of the bar. A dark, masculine figure in scarlet and black Starfleet uniform. Curious to see who among the ship's crew would still be up at this hour, Guinan wandered over, still polishing the glass with a clean cloth.

To her surprise it was the ship's first officer, Commander William Thomas Riker, who was still sitting on a barstool at the end of the evening, staring into the bottom of his synthale glass as if hoping to find some answers there.

"Hey, Riker," Guinan said casually as she leaned against the bar, looking down at the darkly handsome, bearded young man. "Hope that's your last drink, 'cause this is last call. And unless I'm mistaken, you're supposed to be on duty in six more hours."

Riker mumbled something as he stared into his glass.

"What was that again?" Guinan set down the glass she was holding with a click. "I hope you're not telling me where to go, Riker, 'cause I'm not going to take that from you or any other man, no matter how much you drink in my bar!"

"Sorry, Guinan," Riker apologized. "I wasn't talking to you. I was saying that I've only got six hours left to go to hell. Been trying to get there all night, but I'm still no closer than I was before I started drinking."

"Yeah, synthahol does have that effect on you," she commented. "Since it's not real alcohol, it doesn't dim the memory like the real stuff."

"You got any of the real stuff back there?" Riker asked hopefully.

"Not for you!" she told him firmly. "What would Captain Picard think if he knew I was serving real booze to his first officer after last call?"

Riker sagged on his barstool as he became more morose than before. "I wish I knew what he thought," he muttered.

"What's that, Riker?"

"Nothing, nothing!" He put down his mug with a hard rap, glaring at it as if it were an enemy.

"Is there something wrong between you and the captain, Riker?" Guinan asked carefully. Being an ElAurian, which was a race of listeners, she was ready to listen to anything for hours on end, which was what made her the perfect bartender. "No, nothing's wrong," Riker said too quickly. "It's just my–my social life that's getting me down."

"Your social life?" Guinan studied him closely as she said this, saw how his face briefly turned red above his beard and his sad blue eyes became sadder. "Oh, I see. You mean your social life, as in love life." At Riker's brief nod, she reached under the bar for the synthale jug and poured him another drink. "Why don't you tell me why your social life has you so down?"

"It's nothing, really. Just a little problem I've been having."

"I see." Guinan replaced the jug in the little cooler beneath the counter. "Would this little problem's name be Deanna?"

"No, Deanna is not the problem!" Riker grabbed his mug and took a deep swallow.

"Then who is?"

"Someone I've known for a long time," Riker said slowly, as if reluctant to reveal his lover's identity. "Someone I've always had great respect and admiration for, who's always felt the same way about me. Someone I never thought I'd get close to, because of our rank and age difference." "Oh, I get it," said Guinan, as an image of Ensign Wesley Crusher came to mind. The young man, though brilliant, was quite impressionable and had a tendency to hero worship experienced older officers like Riker. It didn't surprise her that he had fallen into Riker's arms; such a malleable youth would be as easily swayed by a charming older man as he would be by a beautiful woman. "Look, Riker, if you've fallen for another guy, there's nothing to be ashamed of. I just hope he's not too much younger than you."

Riker raised his head to look at her with an expression that would have turned fresh milk to yogurt. "He happens to be a bit older than me," he said tersely.

"Oops!" Guinan grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, my mistake. It's just that in my experience, when a man your age takes a lover of the same sex, it's usually someone much younger. A youth he's been mentoring, a promising young man who needs a bit of confidence."

Riker gave her a crooked grin. "No, it's not Wesley, but I don't blame you for jumping to that conclusion. The kid does have a tendency to follow me around like a puppy. But I'm not the type to fall for someone so dependent. A man needs strength to fall back on in his intimate moments, not a helpless burden to protect."

Guinan nodded, saying nothing about the way he had of protecting the weak and helpless beings he encountered on other worlds, even at the risk of violating the Prime Directive. Naturally a man like Riker would prefer a mate he didn't have to protect during his offduty time, someone as strong and fearless and as independent as he was. But who among the Enterprise's crew had Riker found worthy of mating with? Councilor Deanna Troi, who had once been his lover, had been Guinan's first guess, but she and Riker had gone their separate ways years ago.

/No sparks left in the ashes of that relationship!/ Guinan thought as she mentally scratched Deanna off her list. /Who else would possibly interest Riker? Geordi LaForge? No, he's too young. Riker said his lover was a bit older than him. Can't be Data, then. For all his sophisticated programming, chronologically he's no older than Wesley. Worf? Nah, he and Riker are practically the same age. Besides, that damned Klingon prefers women. He'd consider it an insult to his warrior's honor to lie with another man, unless he were really close to him. Damn it, who else on this ship would be close enough to Riker for him to feel comfortable sleeping with?/ As her brow wrinkled in thought, Riker commented:

"The man I love is strong and kind, and he makes me feel strong too. Until I find myself alone with him. Whenever I'm in his arms, I feel like a scared teenager making love for the first time." He took another long drink of synthale and brooded some more.

"Just what do you mean by that, Riker?" Guinan questioned him gently. "When you say you feel like a scared teenager in his arms? Does he frighten you? Is he too rough?"

"No, not at all. He's a perfect gentleman, in bed and out. That kind of scares me too. I'm scared I may be too rough with him."

/Well, that means for sure it's not Worf!/ Guinan thought, scratching his name off her mental list too. /Data is always a perfect gentleman, but he's just as strong as Worf, if not stronger. Riker sure wouldn't be afraid of hurting him! So who does that leave?/ Out loud she asked, "Does this gentleman friend of yours have any strange sexual preferences? I mean, is he kinky? Kinky enough to scare you?"

Riker shook his head. "No, if anything, he's a bit conservative in his tastes. I'm sure that's not unusual in a man his age. I just wish he wouldn't be so damn polite about my–shortcomings. I know he's disappointed when I–when I fail to–satisfy him. He keeps assuring me it doesn't matter, but I can tell he's just as frustrated as I am. He's just too polite to tell me so."

If Riker's lover was starting to sound like a certain human male of mature years that Guinan was familiar with, someone who was the embodiment of courtesy, known for his strength as well as his kindness, she wisely kept this suspicion to herself. "Just what is it that you do, or don't do, that you think isn't enough to satisfy your lover?" Riker looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure I can tell you."

"That's all right," she said quickly. "If you don't feel comfortable telling me, you don't have to. I've lived long enough to know that most men prefer to discuss their sex lives with other men." "I would never discuss him with anybody else!" Riker glared at her. "I'm not the kind who kisses and tells!"

"I'm sure you're not," she said soothingly. "All I meant was that maybe you'd prefer to discuss this problem man to man, rather than with me. Maybe a man who's had experience with loving other men would be able to advise you better than me."

"Maybe," Riker admitted. "But how would I find such a man? And once I've confided in him, what's to keep him from bandying the cap-my friend's name about?" He took a drink to hide his embarrassment at his slip of the tongue.

Guinan raised her nonexistent eyebrows. /Did I just hear him almost say 'the captain'? Has JeanLuc been exercising his Gallic charm on his young first officer? Well, it really doesn't surprise me. Jean-Luc is a charming man and Riker has always been so protective toward him. Hell, with a father like his, he's bound to look for a father figure in any older man with authority over him./ She knew Riker's relationship with his father had been less than ideal while he was growing up in Valdez, Alaska on Earth. Being practically ignored by your widowed father during your formative years and abandoned at age fifteen was enough to make any young boy look for a more suitable father figure. And Picard had always been very reserved and aloof when it came to intimate relationships. At least with women. Maybe a nice younger man was what he really needed, to bring out the hidden tenderness in him that she sensed deep beneath his cool exterior.

"Well, Riker, whatever problem you're having with your friend, I suggest you talk to someone about it soon. If not me, then Deanna or Beverly. You know that neither of those ladies is going to be judgmental of you, anymore than I am."

Riker sighed as he set his now empty glass on the bar. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Guinan. Guess I better try to get some sleep before my shift. Good night." He hopped off the barstool and headed for the door of the lounge. On his way out, he tugged at the hem of his uniform tunic, which had ridden up while he was sitting down, in a familiar way that brought a smile to Guinan's face.

"Good night, sweet prince," she murmured, then went back to shutting down the bar.

~*~II~*~

After a quick sonic shower, Riker crawled into bed and found himself staring at the ceiling of his dimlylit cabin, wondering why sleep wouldn't come. Perhaps because he would rather be lying beside a warm, loving man with a British accent and kind hazel eyes. Someone whose gentle hands would stroke away all the pain and bitterness in his heart, whose kisses were warm and tender, and more passionate than any woman he had ever known. /Damn it, why can't I please him? What's wrong with me?/ Riker kept mentally flogging himself for his failure to satisfy the only man he'd found worthy of loving since his lovestarved youth.

It had all started with the massages. After Picard's rescue from the Borg Collective, while he was still recovering from the trauma of having been physically and mentally violated by the Borg, the captain happened to mention to Riker after one of their holosuite target practice sessions that he had been having trouble sleeping. Riker had offered to give him a massage to help him relax, remembering how relaxing he had found it after a back injury. The captain had accepted his offer graciously, inviting him to his cabin after dinner that night.

When Riker arrived at the captain's quarters at 2230 hours that night, he found the captain in his white silk pajamas and bathrobe, pacing restlessly back and forth. "Thank goodness you're here, Riker," Picard said, emitting a frustrated sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I just can't seem to relax enough to sleep. I could ask the doctor for some pills, but I don't want to become dependent on them. Besides, she's bound to report my request to the councilor, then I'll have Troi over here probing my psyche again. I really don't want to have to relive my time with the Collective every time I have trouble sleeping."

"Of course not, sir. There's no reason you should," Riker said soothingly. "Just lie face down and relax while I massage you."

"All right." Picard took off his robe and cast it over the foot of his bed before lying face down. Riker sat down beside him and began rubbing his back through his pajama top, gently at first, then more vigorously. Gradually Picard began to relax; Riker could feel his whole body becoming limp and pliable under his hands. "Feeling better, sir?" he asked. "Yes, much better," Picard murmured as he lay there with his eyes closed.

"Why don't you take your top off, so I can massage you more throughly?" Riker suggested.

Picard thought that sounded reasonable, so he got up on his knees to unbutton his pajama top. When he had done so, Riker reached around him and took hold of each side of the top. "Allow me, sir," he said as he pulled the captain's top off, his fingers briefly stroking the captain's chest as he did so.

He heard Picard catch his breath quickly at his touch. He looked over his shoulder at Riker, a strange expression on his face. "Is something wrong, sir?" Riker asked.

"No, nothing." Picard looked at him a minute more before lying down again.

Riker resumed the massage, concentrating on the captain's neck and shoulders, where most of the tension seemed to be. He noticed that the captain's breathing seemed to be more rapid than before. He smiled to himself as he saw the effect he was having on the man he secretly adored. If Picard was capable of being aroused by him, then there was hope of a relationship between them. But only if he chose to respond to the stimulus. If he chose to ignore his arousal and allowed Riker to get on with the massage, then Riker wouldn't push him. Picard had been compelled once too often lately.

But as he leaned down to concentrate on the nape of Picard's neck, he couldn't help placing a brief kiss there. Picard, half asleep by that time, stirred at the feeling of warm lips on the back of his neck. Before he could do more than murmur inquiringly, Riker's com badge beeped.

"Riker here," the first officer responded instantly.

"This is LaForge, sir," said the chief engineer's voice. "We need you here in Engineering. There's a problem that requires your expertise." "On my way." Riker signed off and rose from the bed, looking regretfully at the sleepy Picard. "I'm sorry, sir. We'll have to continue this tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow will be fine," Picard murmured, keeping his face buried in his pillow as if he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. "Good night, Mr. Riker." Satisfied to see him so relaxed from his ministrations, Riker left. The problem in Engineering turned out to be an ingenious young ensign (not Wesley Crusher, for once!) who had found a way to liven up the night shift by installing a hidden camera in the women's showers of the ship's gym. He spent the wee, small hours of the morning reviewing the taped footage of all the ladies who showered in the gym after their daily workouts. LaForge had discovered the tape by accident while reviewing the security cam footage with Worf. After seeing the tape, Riker had been grateful that Deanna Troi preferred to shower in her own cabin after her aerobics class. The offending ensign was sent to the brig and the tape confiscated as evidence by an indignant Klingon security officer, who recognized some of the ladies on it as members of his security team. Riker managed to control his hilarity until he reached the privacy of his own cabin, where he spent the next forty minutes chuckling as he wrote his report about the incident.

The following evening, Riker arrived at Picard's cabin at the same time as last night. He found the lights were lower and the captain more relaxed, sitting and sipping a glass of wine from his family's vineyard on Earth. He even offered Riker a glass, which he was glad to accept. After a drink and some pleasant conversation, they got down to business. When Picard took off his robe, he was only wearing the bottom half of his silk pajamas. Riker had brought along an almondscented massage oil, which he rubbed into the captain's back in a long, lingering way. The wine he'd drunk made him bold enough to climb on the bed and mount Picard from behind as he massaged him, letting Picard feel the massive erection inside his uniform trousers every time he pressed down on his back. Picard kept emitting low moans of pleasure with every stroke. Riker finally got the nerve to lie down on him, stretched out full length on top of the captain while he rubbed his neck with the scented oil. Picard lay beneath him, eyes closed, hands over his head in a gesture of surrender.

Riker paused in his ministrations to lie quietly on top of Picard, resting his head between his shoulder blades. Through the skin of his back, he could hear the steady beat of the artificial heart pump implanted in Picard's chest. It sounded just like a real heart. It even started to beat faster when Riker pulled down the elasticized pajama bottoms so he could continue the message on Picard's buttocks.

Picard made no protest as his butt was rubbed, gently but firmly. Even when Riker applied more almond oil to his hands and started running his oily fingers along the crack between his cheeks, Picard made no verbal objection. But when he inserted one finger into the small opening between the cheeks, that was when Picard cried out, "No! Stop it, Will!" Riker snatched his hand away. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Picard thrashed around beneath him as if he were desperate to escape. "Let me up, Will!" he said fearfully.

Riker rolled off him quickly while Picard retreated to the opposite side of the bed. They lay there in awkward silence, avoiding each other's eyes, for a very long time, before Picard finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, Will. I couldn't take any more of what you were doing."

"I thought you liked having me touch you. You did, didn't you?" Riker pleaded.

"Yes," Picard admitted reluctantly. "Yes, I did, at first. It was–nice. Pleasant. But when you started putting your finger inside me, it–it brought back bad memories." Picard pulled his pajama bottoms back up and slid over to the edge of the bed, where he sat with his back to Riker as he spoke. "When I was assimilated by the Borg, they invaded my body through every available orifice, Will. Every one. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I do," Riker said gently.

"That wasn't the worse part," Picard continued, staring into the starlit darkness outside the window in the shadowy sleeping alcove. "They took over every physical function of my body, even my vocal cords, so that I wasn't allowed to move or make a sound while they violated me. I was in such pain, Will. The greatest pain I had ever felt since the Nausiccan stabbed me, but I couldn't scream. I remember shedding a single tear before surrendering to the pain and the oblivion that followed. When I came to, I wasn't myself anymore. I was Locutus of Borg and pain was irrelevant. They not only robbed me of my humanity, they made me suffer in silence while they did it. For that, I will always hate them. Don't force me to hate you as well." "I understand, sir," Riker said, forcing himself to keep his distance from the troubled man whom he longed to take into his arms and comfort. "I'm sorry I brought back such bad memories for you. I won't impose myself on you any longer. Good night." He got up off the bed and headed for the door.

He was halfway there when he heard Picard say, in a low, urgent voice, "Will, wait! Please don't go."

Riker turned around to see Picard now kneeling on the edge of the bed, on the side closest to the door, looking at him with such desperate longing, a longing which he sensed had nothing to do with desire. When he saw that look, he knew couldn't possibly leave now. His captain needed him; his *friend* needed him, to ease his troubled mind. "Yes, Captain? What do you need from me?" "I need you to stay with me and keep the nightmares away," said Picard hoarsely. "Lately I've been waking up in a cold sweat, my throat dry and painful, hoarse from my unuttered screams. In my dreams I keep finding myself back in the Collective, one of many thousands of Borg drones, lined up in rows upon rows of alcoves like toy soldiers, listening to all these voices in my head, thousands and thousands of voices, telling me over and over again, 'We are the Borg, you will be assimilated, resistance is futile'.

"But the worse one of all, the one that gets louder and louder until it drowns out all the other voices, is a woman's voice, sweet and terrible, calling me Locutus, telling me I am hers, urging me to surrender and become one with her for eternity." Riker could see beads of sweat glistening in the dim light on the captain's face and bald scalp, as his eyes stared past Riker into the darkness of his own soul.

"It's terrible, Will. I never see this woman's face, I just hear her sweet, poisonous voice, whispering, whispering. I can feel her cold hands caressing me, her dry lips kissing me. This disgusting creature who I can't see keeps touching me, whispering to me, but I can't scream. And the pain–the pain never stops, Will. I'm in so much pain, but I can't cry out. It's as if I have no mouth and I must scream. I must scream or go mad, but I can't. Even when I finally wake up screaming, I find I can't make a sound. My throat hurts from my suppressed screams, but I can't make a sound." Picard never raised his voice once, but his soft whisper of despair was as frightening as a full-throated scream. "Don't leave me alone with those dreams, Will. Please don't leave me alone, to face the pain once more, and the sound of that evil voice, the touch of those cold, dry hands and lips–"

Riker had run back to the bed and was holding him in his arms. "It's all right, Jean-Luc," he told him. "You're not alone any more. You're safe and warm, on board your ship. I'm going to keep you that way. No more nightmares, Jean-Luc. Never again."

Picard held him close and tight, wrapped in his strong arms as firmly as Riker was wrapped in his. "Thank you, Will. Thank you so much. Don't leave me alone again, please."

"Never. I'll never do that." Riker laid him down gently on the bed and covered him with his big body. "I'll stay with you for as long as you need me. Go to sleep, Jean-Luc. I'll stay right here with you and wake you up if I hear you trying to scream."

"Yes, yes, stay with me, Will. It feels so good to have you with me. I need someone like you, someone warm and strong and brave, to keep the nightmares away. I can't do it alone, Will. I'm so tired of being alone..." Riker held him and stroked him, murmuring words of comfort until he finally fell asleep, still clutching Riker like a frightened child. Riker kept on holding him close, watching his sleeping face go through many changes as dreams and memories passed through his sleeping mind. When he was certain that Picard was fast asleep, he released him briefly, long enough to remove his clothes. He climbed back into bed with him, covered them both with the blanket and whispered to the computer to put out the lights. Darkness gently enfolded them both as Riker took his friend back into his arms, staring out the window into the starlit darkness until he fell asleep, still holding him.

~*~III~*~

After that night, Riker was a regular visitor to the captain's quarters. At the end of the day shift, he would go to the captain's quarters and be welcomed warmly, not only for the relaxing, sensuous massages he gave, but for the companionship he provided and the warm comfort he gave Picard in bed. If someone else happened to be there with him, Picard would say casually, "Ah, there you are, Mr. Riker. I've been expecting you. Please wait until I've finished here, I'm anxious to see what you have for me."

Riker would say, "Yes, sir," and wait patiently until the crewman or visitor had left. As soon as they were alone together, Picard would greet him more affectionately; they'd wrap their arms around each other, kiss and caress. Sometimes they'd have a late supper together, more often than not they'd just have a drink together, either Earl Gray tea or one of the Picard Vineyard's special vintages, depending on how the day had gone. They'd spend some time talking about mutual friends on board the ship, places they had visited on leave, places they would like to visit with each other and so on.

Eventually they'd head for the bed and Riker would help him undress, caressing every inch of flesh that was revealed until he was naked, before getting down to business. After undressing himself, Riker would give his friend a long, sensuous message that left them both sweaty, oil-slicked and aching with arousal. Then he would relieve the tension with oral sex, which Picard would reciprocate. Sometimes they'd go down on each other at the same time, wrapped around each other mouth to groin, sucking until they both had come, relaxing side by side afterwards.

Eventually, Riker wanted more than massages and oral sex. Since Picard was still fearful of pain, he introduced his captain to frottage, rubbing his long, stiff cock between Picard's muscled thighs. Picard enjoyed pressing his thighs together hard to squeeze his lover's cock between them, watching the expression on Riker's face as he pumped between his legs. He enjoyed making Riker come as much as he enjoyed coming himself; both of them reveled in spraying their creamy come all over each other's bellies as they cried aloud for joy.

When Riker finally got up the courage to ask for anal sex, Picard didn't hesitate to say yes. He seemed willing enough, as Riker massaged his back and buttocks to relax and prepare him. If he noticed a bit more tension than usual in Picard's back muscles, he politely refrained from mentioning it, not wanting to make him even more uncomfortable. The finger he inserted between Picard's buttocks went in more easily this time; he spent some time working it in and out, so his lover could get used to the sensation. He listened carefully for any sounds of discomfort, so he could give Picard a chance to back out. But the only sounds he heard from the other man were low-pitched moans of pleasure, interspersed with occasional whimpers.

At last he withdrew his finger, took his cock in his hand and guided it to the warm, moist passage where he wanted to go. But before he could insert his cock, it wilted in his hand like a limp piece of leftover celery. "Oops! I'm sorry, Jean-Luc," he said sheepishly. "I just lost my erection." "Really? That's strange, I thought we were both ready. Try again, Will," Picard encouraged him.

Riker worked his cock in his fist for a while and managed to get it up again. But when he tried to enter his lover, it wilted again. "Damn!" he muttered.

"What's wrong, Will?"

"I don't know, I keep losing it! I've been looking forward to this for ages and now I can't do it!"

"Take it easy, Will. Perhaps you're just trying too hard. Here, let me..." Picard turned over and took matters into his own hands. Riker's organ was soon long and hard as a steel rod. When Picard rubbed it against his belly, it started dribbling creamy drops. Before he could turn over again, it erupted in his hand, all over his belly.

"Damn!" Riker gasped in mingled pleasure and frustration.

"Never mind, Will," Picard said, soothing him with comforting strokes as he lay next to him. "You'll do better next time. We don't have to do everything together, you know. I've always enjoyed the pleasure of your company as much as the sex."

Riker appreciated his courtesy, but still felt bad about not being able to love him completely. When he tried again the following night, the same thing happened. Strangely enough, he had no problem satisfying Picard orally or interfemorally, which was what they usually ended up doing after his abortive attempt to serve his lover. Picard always assured him that he didn't mind, that he enjoyed the pleasure of his company as much as the sex. But Riker felt himself becoming more and more frustrated with each unsuccessful attempt. Despite Picard's assurances, he felt like he was failing him somehow, like their relationship wasn't complete while he was unable to function like a man.

He started looking for ways to maintain his erection. Vitamins, exercises, special foods, even aphrodisiacs. He thought of using a device, but his pride wouldn't let him fall back on a cock ring or a prosthetic sleeve to keep it up. Not in front of Picard, whose respect he valued as much as his affection. He feared what the captain would think if he saw him relying on a device to make love to him, like he wasn't man enough to do it on his own. After a few discreet inquiries, he was able to obtain, for a steep price, a rare bottle of wine from Risa, the pleasure planet known for its pursuit of physical gratification in every form. This particular vintage, known as Venus Nectar, supposedly had the power to arose desire in the coldest heart and bring heat to lifeless loins. He surprised the captain with it one night, after Picard had spent a really long day in the conference room with the ambassadors from two warring planets, each one laying claim to a tiny asteroid filled with precious metals situated on the border between their worlds.

"How very thoughtful of you, Will," Picard said, admiring the rosy-gold color of the wine as he held it up to the light. "I could certainly use a drink. Hmm, I think I had better replicate some roast Cornish hens with new potatoes. Or would you prefer roast beef?"

"You're testing me, aren't you?" said Riker with a grin. "Even I know that white wine goes with poultry and fish." "Yes, but you certainly can't call this wine white, can you? It looks like a rose petal sealed in amber." Picard carefully put the bottle aside while he replicated an elegant repast. The bottle glowed as bright as a rose in the sunlight as they set the table around it. When Riker finally opened it and filled their glasses, it flowed out as smoothly as liquid sunshine, it tasted like apricots and raspberries, and filled them with a gentle warmth that started in their bellies and spread downwards. By the time they emptied their glasses they were eager to set their lips to each others' lips.

After a brief, passionate interlude spent kissing, sucking, and nibbling on each other, they retired to the captain's bed, where Riker wasted no time stripping their clothes off and mounting his beloved friend from behind, accompanied by eager moans from Picard.

But just as he was about to enter the body he loved, his rock-hard organ withered in his hand once again. He tried in vain to make it hard again, but it was no use. "Damn it all to hell!" Cursing in frustration, Riker rolled off his lover and lay there glaring at his uncooperative organ. "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Will, " Picard assured him. "This sort of thing happens all the time to men, especially when they've been drinking."

"It wasn't supposed to happen tonight, dammit! Not with this wine!"

"Wine is wine, Will. I know what Venus Nectar is supposed to do, but it's not guaranteed to cure whatever ails you. Why don't you swallow your pride and go see the doctor? Maybe you're coming down with something."

"Why are you being so damned calm about this?" Riker demanded, lashing out at him in his frustration. "After all this time, I thought you would be as eager for it as I am!"

"Well, of course I like the idea, but I'm not obsessed with it. Really, Will, it's not necessary. As far as I'm concerned, we've already been as intimate with each other as two men can get. You know that I enjoy the pleasure of your company more than anything you could do to me sexually."

"Really?" Riker said sourly. "If it's my company you find so pleasurable, why do we always seem to wind up in bed when we're alone together?" A fleeting glimpse of pain came into Picard's eyes, before they hardened into amber ice. "I don't remember you ever fighting me off when I lead you here. In fact, half the time you lead the way."

"Then why don't you take the lead in this, too? Now that I think of it, you've never once tried to have me the way I long to have you. Are you sure you're fully functional?" Riker taunted him cruelly. "Or did the Borg take that from you as well?" Picard's icy stare sent a cold shiver down Riker's back as he realized he had gone too far. He tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, I didn't mean that–" Before he could finish his apology, Picard had already risen from the bed and wrapped his grey silk dressing gown around him. He kept his back turned to Riker as he tied the sash about his still trim waist. "I think I've had enough of your company this evening, Will Riker," he said, in a brusque way that reminded Riker unpleasantly of his father, criticizing yet another of his efforts to please him. "Perhaps you should go back to your own quarters."

Riker felt ashamed as he saw how much he'd hurt him. He dressed quickly and headed for the door, pausing to apologize once more. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, really."

"Just go," Picard said, looking out the window at the endless night of space so he wouldn't have to look at him.

Riker came over and tried to embrace him, but Picard flinched away the moment he felt his hands on him. "Don't touch me!" he snapped. "I said I was sorry and I meant it!" Riker sighed. "You have a right to be angry with me. I'm angry with myself for disappointing you twice in one night. Let's face it, Jean-Luc, I'm a worthless excuse for a man. You deserve better."

Picard said nothing, just stood there with his arms folded, staring out the window. Riker longed to hold him, comfort him, but all he could do was say "I'm sorry," again and leave, heading for the Ten-Forward lounge and his talk with Guinan.

Unbeknownst to Riker, as soon as he left Picard turned around to stare at the closed door he'd gone through. He had tears in his eyes. "No, Will," he whispered sadly. "I don't deserve better. I don't even deserve you."

~*~IV~*~

The morning after this pitiful scene in the captain's cabin, both men spent the rest of the day working around, rather than with, each other. Being part of the command team, they didn't have the luxury of being able to ignore each other while at work, so they maintained a facade of courtesy while they were on the bridge together, ignoring the rift between them as if they were tiptoeing around an elephant.

The ambassadors from Puncell and Judica (or Punch and Judy, as Geordi LaForge had labeled them after the third time they came to verbal blows in the conference room) had both gone back to their respective home worlds in a huff last night, so Picard had to communicate with each one separately via view screen, trying to coax them back up to the Enterprise so they could discuss mining rights like rational, adult beings. Since both ambassadors insisted on behaving like children, this did not make things any easier.

As Captain Picard sat in his command chair, talking to the orange-skinned, hook-nosed Puncellian ambassador in his usual gentlemanly way, Counselor Troi, who was sitting on his right, had her arms wrapped around herself and kept rubbing them if she were cold. Now and then she shivered, or rubbed her hands together as if to warm them. Picard's hidden feelings of loneliness and abandonment were what was giving her goose bumps.

As for Riker, her imzadi, he was sitting ramrod straight in his chair beside her, outwardly paying attention to every word that passed between his commanding officer and the ambassador, but Deanna could feel the anger, pain, and resentment he was keeping hidden in the pit of her own stomach; in between shivers, she would clench her hands over her belly and take slow, deep breaths to avoid showing her discomfort. Her own teeth were set on edge from the way he kept grinding his. Fortunately for her, Picard and the Puncellian ambassador were both too wrapped up in their discussion to take any notice of her.

Just as her head began to ache in sympathy with the tension headache Riker was getting, the Puncellian ambassador finally agreed to be reasonable and meet the Judican ambassador on board the Enterprise again in the morning. Riker's headache eased somewhat as the captain thanked the ambassador for his concession. When he signed off, all three of them emitted a sigh of relief. "Now all we have to do is talk the Judican ambassador around," said Picard, almost cheerfully.

"Perhaps we should break for lunch first, sir," Troi suggested courteously. "I think we could all use a breather."

"I believe you're right, Counselor. Why don't you take Mr. Riker to Ten-Forward with you for a bite to eat? I'll be in my Ready Room." Picard moved toward his Ready Room as he spoke, without looking back at them. As soon as the door whooshed shut behind him, Troi took Riker's arm.

"Come along, Will. The captain ordered me to feed you." She kept her tone light and playful as she gently urged him toward the turbolift. She didn't miss the look of longing on Riker's face as he looked back at the door of the Ready Room.

"I'm sure you're in as much need of a relaxing beverage as I am. Perhaps a cup of hot, spicy Mexican chocolate will perk us both up." Troi led him into the turbolift, still chatting about lunch. The doors closed and she ordered it to go to deck ten. But just before they got there, Troi suddenly said, "Computer, hold the lift." The lift stopped. Riker turned to her with a puzzled look. "Deanna, what is this? I thought you were hungry."

"How can I eat with my stomach in knots?" she demanded. "I just spent the last thirty-eight minutes catching the backlash of the emotional storm between you and the captain."

Riker frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes you do!" she told him sternly, arms folded across her ample chest. "Admit it, Will! Something has happened between you and the captain quite recently. All the time he was talking to the ambassador, his feelings of loneliness and abandonment were chilling me to the bone. And your feelings of anger and resentment were giving me a stomachache. I also have an aching jaw from the way you were grinding your teeth, as well as a headache. Talk to me, Will! Tell me what's wrong between you and Captain Picard. I'm not letting you off this lift while your feelings are tying knots in your stomach and mine. Bad for the digestion, you know."

Riker glared down at her from his lofty height, but she refused to be intimidated. She kept her dark eyes focused on his blue ones while projecting a calming wave of sympathy at him. Finally he sighed, letting his shoulders slump. "Okay, Deanna, I admit it. The captain and I had a little disagreement last night–"

"A little disagreement?" She looked up at him skeptically. "It takes more than a little disagreement to upset your stomach and give you a tension headache. And it was no minor dispute with a friend that left our captain feeling as cold and forlorn as if he'd been set adrift on an iceberg. Isn't that what they used to do to elderly Eskimos where you were born on Earth, when they got too old and useless?"

"The captain is not old and useless!" Riker snapped. "I'm the useless one!"

"How can you say that, Will? He considers you the most valuable first officer in the fleet. You've never done anything to let him down."

Riker couldn't meet her eyes as he muttered, "Oh, yes I have. Night after night."

"What do you mean, 'night after night'?" Troi looked puzzled until her empathic talent "tuned in" on Riker's thoughts. Then her pretty face turned bright red with embarrassment as she got a fleeting mental image of Riker lying on top of Picard, straining to enter him, while Picard moaned beneath him. "Oh! Oh, Will! Why didn't you tell me that your relationship with the captain had become physical?"

Riker got red in the face too. "I should have known better than to try to hide my feelings from an empath," he muttered.

"Well, you've certainly been doing a good job of it! I get the impression that this relationship has been going on for some time. Has it?"

"Yes, three months."

"And you still haven't managed to–" Troi paused delicately, remembering how humans were frequently embarrassed by Betazoid frankness about sex, "–fully consummate your relationship?"

"No," Riker said dully, staring at the wall of the lift to avoid looking at her.

"This sounds serious, Will. Have you been to the doctor?"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" he insisted.

"Are you sure? If you're not comfortable discussing it with Beverly, there are male doctors on board."

"I don't want to discuss it with a doctor. I find it difficult enough discussing it with you!"

"That's what I'm here for, Imzadi. What was once between us shouldn't make a difference. Surely you know that I wouldn't pass judgment on you?"

Riker sighed. "Deanna, I'm grateful for your concern, but I really don't want to discuss this right now."

"Then what about later? In my office?"

"Okay, okay! How's fifteen hundred hours?"

"That will be fine. I'll see you then. Until I do, we won't say another word about it. Computer, start lift." The lift came to life and proceeded toward deck ten. Riker retreated into silence, grateful for the reprieve. Troi could feel his relief washing over him like a cool breeze over a sweaty brow. /I can see that I have my work cut out for me,/ she thought. /Just cutting through the denial is going to take an hour.../

~*~V~*~

After a light lunch, which consisted of Mexican hot chocolate and a salad for Troi, and a bowl of clam chowder for Riker (which he barely touched), the command team resumed their efforts to bring about peace between the two contentious planets. The Judican ambassador, also orange-skinned but with a snub nose, proved to be just as difficult as the Puncellian ambassador, requiring all the captain's diplomatic skills. Troi's heart went out to the captain as she sensed the struggle going on inside his troubled mind. Being so close to his estranged lover while having to concentrate on bringing a stubborn alien around to his way of thinking was affecting him in ways that only Troi could know. The current situation was hitting much too close to home for Picard, trying to reason with somebody who refused to admit that the problem might be with him, rather than the person he was angry with.

Picard had to use an extra bit of charm to persuade the Judican ambassador to finally see sense. The snub-nosed alien then agreed to meet with the hook-nosed one on board the Enterprise in the morning, to settle their dispute about mining rights on the asteroid that bordered their worlds. Picard thanked him effusively, assuring him that he was gaining a moral victory just by agreeing to be in the same room with his Puncellan counterpart. As soon as the Judican's image disappeared from the viewscreen, Picard sat back in his command chair and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank heavens that's over! Counselor, please make sure the two ambassadors are seated at opposite ends of the conference table tomorrow morning, and have them served a relaxing beverage."

"Of course, Captain. I believe that Judican coffee is made with fermented beans and has a mild alcoholic content. That should put them both in a friendlier frame of mind."

"Ha!" Geordi LaForge let out a laugh from the Engineering station. "Nothing short of Venus Nectar would make those two friendly!"

Deanna Troi was bombarded on both sides by acute feelings of embarrassment from the captain and his first officer. "There's no need for them to get that friendly, Geordi," Riker said dryly. "Some relationships should remain strictly platonic." He didn't even look at the captain as he said this, but Troi felt the captain's pain as the remark cut him like a knife. She was furious with Will for hurting him like that.

Picard hauled himself to his feet and announced, "Well, I, for one, intend to spend the next few hours catching up on my paperwork. Mister Riker, you have the con." He disappeared into his Ready Room without a backward glance, leaving behind a distinct feeling of unhappiness to Deanna's sensitive empathic nature.

The counselor rose from her seat at the same time the first officer did, grabbed his arm and steered him toward the turbolift. "Come along, Mr. Riker," she said sweetly, but with as much determination as her mother the ambassador at her pushy best. "It's time for your appointment."

"But that's not till 1500!" Riker protested.

"Check the time, Geordi," Troi said as she passed the visored engineer.

A quick glance at his console's chronometer was all Geordi needed. "Exactly 1448 hours," he informed them. "Good, that gives us just enough time to get to my office. Let's go, Mr. Riker. Remember, you promised to be there by 1500 hours."

Riker was on the verge of rebelling. But he was reluctant to make a scene in front of the entire bridge crew, so he surrendered. "Okay, Deanna, a promise is a promise. Geordi, you have the con."

"Yes, sir." Geordi knew better than to ask when he'd be back. Counseling sessions were confidential and could take as long as the counselor felt she needed. Judging from the way she was pushing Riker into the lift, it looked as if they had a lot to discuss. The first thing he did was contact the maintenance staff to order them to prepare the conference room again.

~*~VI~*~

Troi escorted the reluctant Riker to her office the same way that Worf would have escorted a reluctant prisoner to the brig. As soon as the door whooshed shut behind them, she all but pushed him into a chair. "Sit there and don't move!" she ordered him sternly. She went over to the replicator and ordered two cups of Judican coffee, one with milk and sugar, one black. She took the black one over to Riker and sat down on the couch opposite with the other.

"What's this?" he asked, studying the fragrant brew in his hands with trepidation.

"Judican coffee. You do remember me mentioning that it has a slight alcoholic content? It's to help you relax and loosen your tongue. En vino veritas, you know."

"I guess it's more subtle than injecting me with sodium pentathol," Riker commented.

"When you're only half Betazed, you need all the help you can get. Especially with a reluctant patient. Now talk to me, Will! For starters, what possessed you to make such a heartless remark on the bridge just now?" "Oh, damn it, Deanna, it just slipped out! You know I wouldn't hurt him for the world."

"But you did. So why did you say it? Do you really think you'd be better off without him?"

Riker gave a frustrated sigh. "No, I think he'd be better off without me!"

"Why, Will? Is sex really that important to you? I thought there was more to your relationship with the captain then that."

"There is." Riker took a cautious sip of his Judican coffee, found the mellow flavor soothing and continued. "He's the kindest, bravest man I've ever known. I'd give my life for him without hesitation. He's also the finest captain of the finest ship in Starfleet; he deserves better than a second-rate lover."

"You consider yourself second-rate because you can't maintain an erection?" Deanna carefully kept her voice neutral, knowing what a sensitive topic this was to a highly sexed man like Riker. "I know I am; I keep trying to please him and I keep failing. The worse part about it is that he's so damned nice about it! He keeps telling me it doesn't matter, that he enjoys the pleasure of my company more than anything sexual we do together." "Do you think he's lying?"

Riker took another sip of the fermented coffee and sighed. "I think he's being kind. He's always been a gentleman, polite, considerate, diplomatic. It kills me that I can't do more for him, that he's willing to settle for less because that's all I'm capable of. I could do so much more for him, if only–" He stopped and stared into space, a melancholy look in his blue eyes.

"If only what, Will?" Troi leaned forward as she tried to "read" him more closely, opening up her empathic senses to absorb every feeling he was exuding. "If only you could be the man you long to be? The kind of man who's worthy to love a starship captain? The kind of man who never fails at what he attempts? The man your father wanted you to be?"

Riker sat up as if he'd been jolted by a Klingon pain stick, sloshing his coffee onto the rug. "What's my father got to do with this?"

"A great deal, I think." Deanna spoke calmly, her dark eyes fixed upon him as she told him what she sensed. "I sense great conflict within you, as you strive to please a powerful older man who holds your fate in his hands, just as your father once did. I sense your fear of disappointing him, just as you disappointed your father by failing to live up to his impossibly high standards. I sense your resentment at being so emotionally vulnerable to Captain Picard, just as you were with your father. No wonder you're ready to give up. You're tired of the struggle; you think it's going to turn out to be as futile as your quest for your father's affection. Much better to end it first, before Picard walks away from you. Isn't that right, Will? You want to be the one who walks away this time, instead of waiting to be abandoned."

Riker looked as if he were about to throw the Judican coffee in her face. "Deanna, that's bullshit!" he blurted out. "Where do you get off telling me that I want to abandon Jean-Luc? After I promised him that I wouldn't! If I did that, I'd be no better than my father!"

Deanna nodded her head. "Yes, you'd be exactly like your father if you abandoned someone who loved you. Isn't that what you've been striving for all your life? To be just like your father?"

"You're full of it!" Riker snarled. "I don't run out on people who love me!"

"What about me, Will?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral while her dark eyes filled with tears. "As I recall, you left me without saying goodbye. I forgave you for it long ago, but I've never forgotten. Now you're about to treat Captain Picard the same way, a man I truly respect and admire. If you're determined to end your relationship with him, at least be man enough to tell him to his face."

Riker's coffee cup fell to the carpet with a crash as he jumped up and headed for the door. "Why are you running away, Will?" Troi asked, stopping him dead in his tracks. "Did I hit too close to home?"

Riker stood before the closed door, clenching his fists at his sides and breathing hard. When he finally spoke, he sounded mad as hell. "You hit below the belt, Deanna. You made me see the pattern in all my past relationships, and realize what a bastard I've been, just like my old man."

"But you don't have to be like him, Will. You don't have to run out on a relationship when it starts becoming difficult. Stay and work it out this time," she urged him. "Talk to Picard. Tell him how inadequate you feel, that you believe he deserves better than you. Ask him if he's willing to go on settling for half a loaf or if he'd rather end it now. While you're at it, you might ask him if he's willing to discuss it with me as well. I have a feeling our brave captain may be hiding something from you."

Riker turned around and looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Jean-Luc Picard was raised to be an old-fashioned gentleman, in the traditional Terran European sense. That means always controlling your temper, hiding your disappointment, being polite and considerate to all, never letting on how you really feel, for fear it may cause offense. You said you thought he was being polite when he told you that your, um, erectile difficulty didn't matter to him. Why not ask him about it? In a non-confrontational manner, of course. Ask him how he really feels about your problem. Urge him to be honest with you, and with himself. Does he really enjoy the pleasure of your company more than the intimacy? Or is he secretly longing for a more complete relationship, with you or with someone else?"

Riker flinched at the thought that his friend and lover might be thinking of replacing him with someone else. But he was a brave man, and an honest one, so he forced himself to consider the possibility. "All right, Deanna. I'll talk to him later, after my shift is over. I'll tell him I want out and ask him if he wants to end it too, or if he's willing to settle for half a loaf, as you put it. Whatever he decides, I'll go along with it. One way or another, we have to do something about this relationship."

The counselor nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit, Will. Confront your fears and you'll see that they're really not that terrible. Whatever you and Picard decide, I hope it works out for both of you."

"Thank you, Deanna." Riker squared his broad shoulders and marched through the automatic doors as if he was going into battle.

Troi watched him go with a sad smile. /Good luck, Imzadi. I hope you find happiness in this relationship. If you don't, I will be here to pick up the pieces. And speaking of picking up pieces.../ She eyed the smashed coffee cup and saucer on the carpet ruefully. /I think I'd better program the replicator to serve all beverages in shatterproof containers from now on./ She fetched a cleaning rag and knelt down to pick up the mess and sop up the coffee before it stained the carpet.

~*~VII~*~

At 2028 hours that night, Picard sat in his dimly-lit quarters sipping wine from his family vineyard, brooding over the scene with Riker the night before, wondering if he should try to salvage the relationship or if there was even a relationship left to salvage. He kept looking at the button on the comm panel, thinking that he should call Riker, then thinking that he'd better not. By the time he reached the bottom of his wineglass, he decided that he would call Riker.

/We have to talk this over,/ he thought determinedly as he swallowed the last of the wine. /We have to decide what we're going to be to each other, friends or lovers. If I can't be his lover, then I'll settle for being his friend. That is, if he still wants to serve on this ship. Oh God, what if he decides to transfer? How can I let him go?/ He set the glass down carefully and reached for the comm button.

Just then, the door buzzer sounded. "Who is it?" Picard snapped with uncharacteristic harshness.

"Commander Riker, sir," came the beloved voice from without. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Yes, come in!" Picard got up and moved quickly toward the door to greet him. He stopped halfway, admonishing himself for being too eager. The door swished open and Riker walked in. He looked at him warily, as if expecting Picard to order him to get out. Picard gave him a tentative smile and said, "Hello, Will."

"Hello, Jean-Luc." Riker swallowed hard as he thought of what he was going to say next. He looked so grim that Picard began to feel uneasy.

"What is it, Will?" he asked gently.

"I-I need to talk to you," Riker stammered.

"Yes, what about?"

"About–us. Where do we go from here?" "Where do we go from here?" Picard echoed, surprised to find his thoughts mirrored by his lover.

"Yes, I–that is, we–" Riker swallowed hard as he felt his tongue get all tied up in knots. Why was he so nervous? Jean-Luc wasn't a tyrant; just tell him and get it over with. He took a deep breath and began again. "First, I want to apologize for the other night. I was out of line with that remark about the Borg."

"Yes, you were," Picard agreed. "But I forgive you anyway." He came a little bit closer. "I even forgive you for that remark you made on the bridge this afternoon. Now can we kiss and make up?" He held out his arms to him.

Riker wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and give him a long, wet kiss. But he settled for taking his hands instead, holding him at arm's length while he continued to speak. "Jean-Luc, we need to settle this once and for all. How we're going to go on, I mean. You know I love you and I want to be with you always. In all ways," he stressed, emphasizing the last three words.

"Yes, I know." Picard looked up at him lovingly, his sensitive fingers curling around Riker's bigger hands. "And I know how frustrated you must be, not being able to complete the act. I keep telling you, Will, it doesn't matter to me. It's the pleasure of your company that I enjoy most of all."

Riker tightened his grip, trying not to crush the sensitive fingers. "Yes, I know you keep saying that. But do you believe it? Jean-Luc, can you honestly look me in the eye and say that you're completely satisfied with what we have?"

"Yes," said Picard without hesitation.

"Well, I'm not," Riker told him, and saw his face turn into a mask of pain and confusion. "I can't be satisfied with just your company in bed. I want to–I need to be part of you. If you're willing to settle for half a loaf, I'll do my best to accommodate you. You know I only want to make you happy. But I'm going to be one miserable son-of-a-bitch for as long as I have this problem. And I can't help thinking that you must be miserable too, deep down inside. Admit it, Jean-Luc, wouldn't you rather have a lover who's a real man in your bed?"

"You are a man," Picard insisted, his voice deepening with emotion. "You are the only man I want in my bed. I don't need anything else from you."

"Are you sure?" Riker clutched his hands more tightly, fighting the urge to pull him into his arms. "Is that all you really want from me, the pleasure of my company? Damn it, Jean-Luc, you deserve more than a six-foot teddy bear in your bed! For all practical purposes, that's all I am! I want to give you more!" "You give me what I need," Picard insisted, his voice becoming tremulous. "I don't want anything else."

"Well, I do! And until I can give it to you, I think we should sleep apart from now on."

"No! I don't want you to go!" Picard tried to embrace him, but Riker grabbed his arms and held him back, forcing him to remain at arm's length. "Damn it, Will, why are you so obsessed over this issue? I told you I don't care about it! Why won't you believe me?"

"Because I've never known you to settle for anything less than what you really want!" Riker told him, getting right in his face. "I've seen you pushing to the limit to get the desired result in other matters. Why won't you fight for this, too? Because you're afraid of hurting my pride? Don't you know it hurts me more to know you're being cheated of a complete relationship?"

"I'm not being cheated! You're the one who's being cheated, Will!"

Riker stared into his hazel eyes in complete bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

Picard cast his eyes down in shame. "I mean I haven't been completely honest with you, Will. The truth is, I prefer you like this. I would rather have a lover who can't–possess me completely." He looked up at him with misery in his eyes. "Don't you remember me telling you that when I was assimilated, they invaded my body through every orifice? Every orifice, Will. And they weren't gentle about it. I can still feel the pain in my dreams. I never want to feel that pain again, never! Not even for you. That's why I don't care if you can't penetrate me. I can't bear the thought of anyone ever having that much power over me again. No one will ever hurt me like that again, not even you." Riker stared at his tormented lover, torn by two conflicting desires; to hurl him against the nearest wall and walk out, or to take him in his arms and comfort him. As his grip tightened on Picard's arms, he saw him flinch and heard him give a soft whimper of pain. He loosened his grip, then put his arms around him and pulled him close.

Picard felt stiff in his arms at first; when he realized that he wasn't going to be hurt, he relaxed, resting his head on one shoulder. "I'm sorry I deceived you, Will," he murmured into the broad shoulder. "I don't deserve you. You have every right to leave me, but I hope you don't." "I said I wouldn't leave you as long as you needed me, and I meant it," Riker said gruffly as he rubbed Picard's back soothingly with one hand. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes. Please stay, Will. I don't deserve your love, but I need it desperately."

"You deserve a good, swift kick in the ass," Riker growled. "If I didn't love you so much, I'd hate you for jerking me around like this. Why didn't you tell me this from the beginning?" "But I did. I thought you understood, the first time you tried to have me."

Riker sighed as he continued to rub Picard's back. "And I thought you had gotten over it, when I tried it again a couple months later. Looks as if we're both to blame. What we have here is a failure to communicate." They held each other silently for a while, each one giving comfort as much as receiving it. "Can we start over?" Riker finally asked. "From the ground up this time. Kiss me good night so I can leave, or kiss me and take me to bed. Do one thing or the other, just don't confuse me with mixed signals." Picard smiled against his lover's shoulder. "All right, Will. No mixed signals tonight." He lifted his head, laid his hands on either side of Riker's face and pulled it gently down so he could kiss his lips.

It started as a sweet kiss, the kind you get at the end of a nice evening when your date has no intention of inviting you in, but wants to encourage you to come back. Riker thought he was being kissed good night and savored it, unsure of when he'd get another. But then it became more intense; he felt Picard's tongue gently probing his lips, looking for entry. He opened his mouth and let the tongue in to explore, tasting and touching every inch of his mouth's interior. When he felt himself getting short of breath, he pulled his mouth away so he could catch his breath. He had barely filled his lungs when he felt his mouth taken once more in a hot, wet kiss that left him in no doubt about Picard's intention.

The two men held each other close and tight as they kissed, caressing broad shoulders, backs and buttocks, rubbing against one another like animals in heat as their passion rose higher and higher. Finally Riker lifted Picard off his feet, preparing to carry him off to bed. As Picard's feet left the carpeted floor, he heard him make a soft, fearful sound and felt Picard clutch him frantically, as if he were afraid of being dropped–or raped. That made him slow down, put Picard back on his feet again and just hold him close, strong arms wrapped loosely around his waist as they kissed.

"Let it be the way you want tonight, Jean-Luc," he whispered. "I won't sweep you off your feet or try to dominate you in any way. Whatever we do depends on you." So Riker continued to hold him in a loose embrace, savoring the flavor of his kiss, which still tasted of wine. Picard caressed him fondly through his clothes, letting his hands linger over the strong back, gradually going down to the buttocks. He stroked them through the tight uniform trousers, cupping a cheek in each hand and squeezing gently. Riker felt himself becoming aroused by his lover's handling; he could feel his cock hardening and straining against the material of his trousers. He prayed it would last long enough to satisfy Picard tonight. He kept holding him loosely so he wouldn't feel threatened, kissing him deeply, waiting for the right moment to suggest they retire. To his surprise, he felt Picard gently but firmly propelling him toward the bed. He decided to go with it and let Picard take the lead tonight. /Maybe I'll be able to perform better when the pressure's off me; I'll let him tell me what to do./

So Riker found himself backed up to the foot of the captain's bed; when he felt the backs of his knees collide with the edge of the mattress, he sat down, careful not to break contact with Picard's mouth. The older man seemed perfectly happy to be in charge. He kissed him and stroked his face and hair, murmuring to him fondly as he climbed into Riker's lap, spreading his legs so he could wrap them around Riker's waist. Once he was wrapped around him, he merely had to rest his weight against him to make him lie down. Riker let himself be laid out like an empty shirt, inwardly amused to see how aggressive his gentlemanly lover could be.

Once he was down on his back, Picard was all over him, kissing him hungrily. Riker returned the kisses as he laid in his arms, relieved to have the burden of responsibility for his lover's pleasure lifted from his shoulders. When the captain began making his way down, leaving a trail of kisses from Riker's throat to his groin, Riker felt reassured by the familiarity of the move.

/Okay, so he wants oral tonight. I'll be happy to oblige him. If he wants me to return the favor, I'll be happy to do that too./ Riker stroked his lover's head and face while Picard was busy unfastening his trousers. When he got the velseam fly open, he reached in and pulled out Riker's stiff organ, pausing to fondle it in his warm hands. Riker closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure. When he felt his cock suddenly engulfed by a warm, wet mouth, he gave a brief moan, then laid back and enjoyed it.

After a few glorious minutes of vigorous sucking, Riker felt his trousers being pulled down further. Then his boots were pulled off, then his trousers were removed completely. He assumed that Picard wanted frottage now, so he submitted to being stripped. He sat up on the edge of the bed so he could remove his shirt. When he finished pulling it off, he saw Picard hastily stripping himself as well. Riker smiled, laid back and spread his legs, silently offering himself to his beloved captain. When Picard made a side trip to the bedside table for a bottle of the almond-scented massage oil they both enjoyed, Riker thought he was going to get a massage. Instead, he found his butt being lifted from the bed and a well-oiled finger inserted between his cheeks.

"Jean-Luc, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Making you mine," was the brief reply.

A startled Riker had no time to protest. The next thing he knew, his legs were thrown over Picard's shoulders and Picard's stiff cock was entering him. He gasped, more startled than hurt; it happened too quickly for him to notice any pain. When he realized that Picard's long, slender cock was sheathed inside him, he struggled with mixed feelings of surprise, shock, indignation, and relief. /How could he do this to me?/ soon became /Why didn't he do it sooner?/

Picard didn't move at all after the initial entry; he stood there panting, holding his lover's legs up while he savored the feeling of being inside him, letting Riker become accustomed to the sensation, before he began to thrust slowly in and out of him.

Riker didn't know what to do when he felt Picard thrusting into him. He wanted to cry, even though the pain wasn't that bad, and he wanted to curse, even though he didn't feel insulted; he just thought that he should be, at having his manhood violated this way. But how could he be violated if he was willing? Wasn't he the one who was so eager for this to happen? But he had never pictured himself as the recipient. He had been so obsessed with pleasing his lover, he thought that he had to be the dominant one in order to please him. Now that he was on the receiving end, he realized that he didn't have to be hard in order to please him. He breathed deep, relaxing his rectal muscles so he could admit the slick, slender organ more easily and feel it deep within him. It didn't feel as painful as it did in the beginning. In fact, it was starting to feel good. He let out a long sigh of pleasure, then relaxed, enjoying the new sensation of bring fucked.

Picard labored over him a long time, thrusting, thrusting, making him feel as if there were a fire being kindled inside him; the heat and the friction he felt were becoming too great to keep inside. He tried to hold back, to delay his orgasm for as long as possible, but that was difficult to do when it felt like there was a supernova trying to burst out of him. He finally gave up and let it go, emitting a cry of mixed pleasure and pain as his come burst out of his turgid cock like liquid fire. Picard kept pumping into him until his own climax came bursting out, filling the tight, muscular ass he was so deeply into. He remembered to set Riker's butt down gently on the bed before withdrawing and collapsing on top of him. Both men were panting as hard as if they'd run a race uphill together. Sweat beaded both their hard bodies; hearts (organic and mechanical) pumped rhythmically and lungs labored to take in enough air to cool them after their pleasurable exertion. When they finally got their breath back, Riker was the first to speak.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Because you couldn't. This seemed to be the simplest way around the problem," Picard explained.

Riker laughed, hopelessly confused by the maelstrom of feelings flowing through him. "Once again, Captain Picard comes up with a solution to the problem that satisfies both parties! I thought you wanted me to take care of you, satisfy your needs..."

"And you did. Very nicely, too," Picard assured him sleepily, head pillowed on his hairy chest. "It just took a while for both of us to figure out exactly what those needs were." Riker put his arms around him and arranged him on top more comfortably. "Right now, I think you need a rest. Later we'll see about satisfying other needs."

"Like what?" Picard murmured, half asleep by now.

"Like seeing if you can do this again from behind me. Perhaps in the shower? Or would you rather stay in bed?"

Picard chuckled. "We'll see. In the meantime, let's rest." He gave him a kiss before snuggling up to him again. Soon there was no sound to be heard in the captain's quarters except for the sound of the captain's even breathing as he slept, and his first officer's happy heart beating as he held him close.

~*~VIII~*~

The meeting between the two ambassadors the following morning went so well, both sides complimented the captain for reconciling their worlds after generations of dispute. Councilor Troi privately thought that having three Federation member worlds clamoring to buy minerals from the disputed asteroid helped to speed the negotiations along. Since Judicans and Puncellians were both descended from similar racial backgrounds, it was to be expected that they would want to keep the mining rights "in the family". Both sides agreed to supply workers and equipment, transport to and from their respective planets, and to split the profits from the sale of the minerals equally. Afterwards, as the new treaty was being toasted with Judican coffee, Troi met Riker at the breakfast buffet helping himself to more goodies. "Good morning, Mr. Riker. How are things going between you and your friend?" she asked, careful not to identify the captain in public.

Riker beamed at her. "Everything's fine, Deanna. We finally solved the problem I told you about."

"Really? That's wonderful, Will! I wasn't expecting results so soon."

"Neither was I. But I guess all we needed was for him to take matters into his own hands." "Really?" Troi repeated, looking into his smiling face as she used her empathic talent to sense what he was feeling; contentment, satisfaction, genuine relief and an undeniably masculine feeling of pride, the kind men get after a night of good sex. She smiled and whispered, "So you decided to let him be in charge, did you?"

Riker looked around, lowered his head to hers and spoke softly. "From the beginning I wanted him to have the right to choose, to decide for himself what he wanted, what he needed from me. Once I stopped worrying about being responsible for his pleasure, we were both able to enjoy ourselves." She smiled and patted his arm. "That's good to know, Will." Seeing a generous dollop of Devonshire cream on his plate, along with the scones that Picard liked, she said playfully, "I hope that's not all for you, Mr. Riker. Otherwise you'll start bursting out of your britches."

"No, this is for the captain. He's too busy schmoozing the ambassadors to get away, but I know he needs to eat. That's why I'm here." He looked affectionately in Picard's direction. Troi looked over her shoulder and saw the captain's attention was engaged by both ambassadors, both trying to outdo each other in complimenting the captain. She saw Picard glance briefly in their direction; he nodded at her in greeting, then smiled at Riker, looking at him far longer then he had at her. He then resumed his three-way conversation. She could feel his happiness from across the room and rejoiced in it.

"You'd better get over there, Will, and give him his breakfast," she suggested. "Otherwise those fellows will keep him so busy, he won't get a bite until lunch."

"I was just on my way over there. Excuse me, Councilor." He brushed past her, pausing to kiss her on the cheek in passing. "Thanks," he whispered.

She nodded and smiled, sending him on his way with an affectionate pat on the back. She watched him walk toward Picard, feeling his eagerness and his love for the soft-spoken man who commanded respect across the galaxy. It felt so good to be in the presence of contented lovers. She sighed pleasurably and reached for a chocolate-filled croissant. /After last night, I think I've earned it./ She bit into the buttery pastry with pleasure, savoring the sweetness inside with as much satisfaction as she savored the feelings of joy emanating from Picard and Riker.

When she looked their way again, Riker was standing beside the captain and Picard was helping himself to the plateful of goodies Riker was holding as he continued his conversation with the ambassadors, sipping his ubiquitous cup of Earl Grey tea in between bites of scone with Devonshire cream. She managed to catch Riker's eye long enough for him to see her lifting her coffee cup to him in a silent salute. He smiled at her and went back to waiting on his captain, making sure he had what he needed.

Of all the people in the conference room, Judicans, Puncellians, and Starfleet personnel, nobody but Counselor Troi was able to guess that the contentment Picard and Riker felt wasn't from the newly made treaty. It gave her a nice, warm feeling inside to see her Imzadi so happy. A lesser woman would have been jealous to see her former lover find happiness with another, especially with another man. But Deanna Troi was just glad to see Will Riker finally in a stable relationship with a person who was worthy of him.

/Good luck, Imzadi. I wish you both all the best./ As she turned away, she found herself chuckling at the thought of having to explain to her man-eating mother on her next visit to the Enterprise that Captain Picard was no longer available.

The End