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Star Trek: The Next Generation - Nothing More Than Feelings (m/f)
by Uncle Mike

As the Enterprise watched from its position just outside the Aldebaran
cluster, the giant star erupted like a kitten in a microwave. Great spurts of
matter and energy squirted out on all sides. Then a halo of pure force,
glowing white-hot, pulsed out of the central point and expanded as it quickly
spread, engulfing one by one the planets of its system.

As the halo neared Ryos-Caneb, homeland of the squid-like creatures who had
declined Star Fleet's offer of rescue, the bridge crew stared in agony,
desperate to spare themselves the sight but unable to tear themselves from
the awful tragedy unfolding on the giant viewscreen.

It was over in a split-second as the deathly bubble swallowed the planet
whole and moved on, only to dissipate seconds later as it reached the far
limits of the system. The bridge was silent. Even the throb of the controls
seemed to hush in respect to the gallant jellyballs.

Captain Picard's bald head was bowed like all the rest when a voice next to
him cut through the quiet.

"I sensed... fear. And pain, and then agony, and then really, really sharp
pain, and agony and fear all together. And then... nothing," Counselor Deanna
Troi informed everyone. She squeezed her eyebrows together to emphasize the
feeling. "It was... really bad. I mean, really bad."

Jean-Luc Picard's head snapped up and he glared at Troi. Everyone else on the
bridge was looking at her, too, eyes bulging.

Delighted to have an audience, the shapely counselor went on. "And it stopped
very suddenly," she said, looking around to catch everyone's eyes. "I think
they all went very fast. Of course, I can only sense emotions, so I don't
know exactly how what they were thinking, but --"

"That's quite enough, Counselor," Picard snapped. Troi stopped short, and the
rest of the crew let out their collective breath. Soon the bleeps and bloops
of the controls seemed to rise back to their usual level and everyone bustled
about in the normal way. Troi had settled back into her chair when Picard
handed over his chair to No. 1. As the captain passed by Deanna, he muttered
out of the side of his mouth: "Counselor, see me in the ready room. Now." He
was moving so fast Deanna had to jump up to follow him; even so the swoosh
of the door almost nabbed the hem of her short skirt as she entered the room
behind him.

"Yes, Captain?" the raven-haired counselor said, settling into a chair in
front of Picard's desk and crossing her legs. "Do you need something?"

Picard's fingers drummed on the desktop. "What I need, Counselor --"

"Please, call me Deanna."

"What I need, Deanna," he went on, almost spitting out the name, "is to
understand why you feel -- no pun intended -- why you believe it necessary to
come out with the most ridiculous statements in moments of crisis."

Deanna's eyelashes fluttered as she leaned forward, her large breasts almost
falling out of her low-cut top. "What do you mean? It is my job as ship's
counselor --"

"It is your job to counsel the crew. IF they ask for it. It is not your job
to state the obvious and act like you're coming up with some profound
insights. It is not your job to disrupt the operations of this starship with
your silly ideas. It is not --"

Deanna rose and walked to the far wall, then turned around to face him. Her
face was flushed. "Silly ideas? Silly ideas! If you mean the music --"

"Yes, let's discuss the music," Picard said, pointing a finger at her. "Mood
music on a starship? Muzak, is that what they used to call it? This is a Star
Fleet vessel, not a cruise ship, for Earth's sake. Whatever made you think we
needed background music?"

"Well, I still say the crew performed much more smoothly. And if they'd
followed my instructions and changed the tempos with the time of day, it
would have been even better."

"The time of day? The time of DAY! Deanna, we're in the middle of the
universe! There is no night and day. The crew of the Enterprise has to be
ready for anything at any time. I don't want my bridge crew nodding off to --
what was that singer? Perry Como? -- when they should be keeping an eye out
for who knows what."

"Well, it could have worked if you'd only let me keep trying. And I still
think it wasn't nice of you to order the entire last day's schedule.
Honestly, I didn't even know there were that many different recordings of
"Feelings." I almost think you intended that as a personal insult."

"Almost? Deanna, you ninny, of course it was an insult. Why is it your
empathic powers can tell me some glob of protoplasm two light-years away is
having a hissy fit, but you don't know that the people you live and work with
think you're an insufferable nincompoop? What good is having a
half-Betamax... Betazoid, whatever ... on board if she's only a half-wit as
well?"

"Captain, I sense that you're angry with me," Deanna began. Picard tried to
cut her off, but she talked on over his objections. "No, let me finish.
Please. I sense that you are working out some kind of aggression. Perhaps we
should talk about this -- in my quarters? I could have the replicator make
some coffee -- or would you prefer tea? Earl Grey, isn't it?"

"Yes, hot ... But no, I don't want to talk it over. And not in your quarters.
Deanna, I'm not the one with a problem here. You are. I have had enough of
your nonsense. Do you know that the rest of Star Fleet calls the Enterprise
'the starship with a heart?' The last time I went to a captains' conference,
they all kept asking me to 'tell me how you FEEL, Jean-Luc.' And Admiral
Carlson wanted to know if I'd felt anything good lately ... 'or felt UP, I
should say,' he said. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?"

"Admiral Carlson?" Deanna paused thoughtfully. "Oh, you mean Bobby?"

"Bobby!" Picard half-rose from his chair. "You call a full admiral Bobby?
Deanna, how did you ever manage not to be thrown out of Star Fleet?"

Troi smiled and raised her eyebrows. "I'd be glad to explain it to you,
Captain, but I must suggest that I think it would be better in my quarters."

"Anything you have to say to me you can say right here," Picard insisted.

"Well, all right," the counselor said. "If you really want to know..."

Reaching behind her, Deanna undid the gold clasp and shook her head; her long
black hair billowed out. "Actually, I had been wondering how long it would
take you to ask. My last captain figured it out much faster."

Picard opened his mouth to reply, but his jaw just hung open when he saw what
Deanna did next.

With a tug, Troi pulled her tight-fitting top up and over her head. Her
breasts were barely contained by a thin black bra. The tops of her boobs
bulged out above the shiny triangles as she bent down to undo the clasp of
her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

Next she stepped out of the skirt and walked up to the desk, raising one slim
leg and resting the heel of her boot on the top.

Picard's eyes were staring at the tiny patch of black material that molded
itself tightly to her labia, not at all covering the lush thatch of dark hair
above it.

"My boot, Captain," Deanna purred, breaking in on his reverie. "Please?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yes, I ..." Jean-Luc grasped the leather sides as Deanna eased her
foot out, then did the same as the other boot plopped on to the desk. "I
mean... Counselor Troi, what is the meaning of this?"

"Who's being obtuse now?" Troi asked playfully as she undid her bra. Her
breasts popped free, sagging only slightly despite their size. She lowered
her panties to the floor and walked around the desk to stand before the
Captain.

"Um, Captain, I believe you're overdressed," she said, trailing a finger
along his cheek. Picard's face reddened.

"But, Deanna, you and Will --"

"Yes, yes, Will and I," she said, lowering herself to her knees. "And Bobby
and I, and T'sien Lo Jr. and I, and half of Star Fleet and I. This is what I
do, Jean-Luc. This is why I haven't been bounced out by some captain before.
They've been too busy bouncing me!"

With a giggle, she reached out and touched the captain's crotch. His cock
was already pressing against the soft, elastic material, bulging out and
straining the seam. With a practiced move Deanna pulled down the slacks and
Picard's penis bobbed into the open, stiff and long. "I wondered why I never
saw any visible panty line," she said as she lowered her head.

Picard watched in shock as the ship's counselor pursed her lips and slipped
them around the head of his cock. A groan escaped him as she took all seven
inches down her throat. Her cascade of hair tickled his thighs as she bobbed
up and down, sending tingling sensations through him. She had an expert
touch. Her tongue traced the sensitive underside of his shaft as she
swallowed him, then came up with her soft, supple hands following behind. She
ate his cock like a candy cane, licking the sides, sliding her tongue around
the head.

"Deanna, I --"

"Hush, Jean-Luc," she said. "I sense that you're about to cum." And he did,
shooting a stream of hot jism down her throat.

While Picard fell back into his chair, Troi swept the trinkets and gadgets
off the desktop before crawling onto it. "I told you we'd be more comfortable
in my quarters," she whispered, "but, any port in a storm, as they say."

Picard protested that he wasn't ready, but Deanna just pointed down. Indeed,
he was hard again, excited by the lush vision of the counselor's naked body.
Even on her back, Deanna's breasts stood out, with the thick nipples erect
and waiting to be nuzzled.

Maddened by lust, the captain tore off his shirt and shed his slacks and
boots. Eagerly he crawled onto the desk above her and tried to enter Troi at
once, but she held him off.

"Not so fast, Captain," she said, her breasts jiggling as she shook a finger
at him. "You may be ready, but I'm not. ... I'm not wet enough," she said
when he gave her a puzzled look.

"Well --" Picard's hard cock pressed into her thigh. "Make it so, Counselor."

Troi giggled. "Make it so yourself, Jean-Luc," she said as she pressed his
head down to her already musky cunt.

The captain was clearly unused to it, but under the counselor's expert
tutelage he soon was lapping at her, spreading her labia with his fingers to
press his tongue inside. Deanna rolled her hips underneath him as she warmed
to his touch. At last she took his head in her hands and lifted it up.

"Now, Deanna?" he asked.

"Now, Jean-Luc," she sighed in reply.

The captain scrambled up. Briefly he suckled her large nipples but his
patience was at an end; he had to enter her. His licking had lubricated her
well; his cock easily slipped inside and filled her hot, wet tunnel.

With a moan Deanna spread her legs, taking him in up to the hilt. Their
tongues met in a dance of passion as Jean-Luc began to push his cock in and
out, Troi's hips rising to meet his thrusts.

Picard had always thought he preferred women on the slender side, but now the
gentle give of Deanna's soft flesh thrilled him as his hands roamed over her.
She held him tightly between her legs and he seemed to be completely
enveloped in her cushy breasts and thighs. His old cock had always been a
fast shooter, but now it seemed to have time-traveled back to his youth, for
it stayed hard and thick, even as a wave of orgasm turned Deanna's cunt into
a whirlpool.

"That's quite a phaser you've got there," Troi said huskily. "I see you've
got a full charge!"

In reply, Picard drove his cock into her faster and faster, drawing forth
another pulsing orgasm. Like all Betazoids, Troi was silent when she came,
but her body was a maelstrom of motion. Picard held onto her like a cowboy on
a bucking bronco in that holodeck rodeo Riker had showed him.

Perhaps orgasm intensified Deanna's empathic powers, because she chose that
moment to tell Picard, "You're wonderful, Jean-Luc! Will never lasted this
long -- or was this long! Oh, Jean-Luc, yes, I want it all!"

Eager to oblige, the captain slammed his shaft into the counselor. Slickened
by sweat, their bodies slid back and forth on the desktop as they thrust at
each other. Finally Picard let out a shout that echoed off the transparent
aluminum windows. "I'm cumming, Deanna! I'm cummmmiiinnnggg!"

And his cum shot out of him at Warp Nine, filling her tight cunt.

It was several minutes before they recovered. Deanna gently rolled Picard off
of her and slipped back into her uniform. She waited for Picard to do the
same before she slipped through the door to the bridge.

As it swooshed open, the scent of their love-making whisked out behind her.
Data, the android at the helm, only sniffed curiously, but the humans -- and
even the odd alien or two -- recognized the odor and looked up.

Troi went through the bridge and disappeared into the turbolift as Picard
strode across and reclaimed his command chair.

Riker, who had been following Troi's backside with his eyes, swung them back
onto the Captain. "Have you and the counselor had a productive chat?" he
asked with a sly grin.

"Yes, indeed, No. 1," Picard said briskly. "You know, I never understood
before how valuable a counselor can be to a ship's operations. Now then, are
we done with our sensor readings here?"

"Yes, Captain, we're ready to return to Starbase Nine."

"Make it so, No. 1."

"Make it so yourself, Jean-Luc," Riker mumbled to himself as he stepped up to
Data's station.

"What was that, No. 1?" Picard called out.

"Nothing, Captain," Riker said. "Oh, by the way, Captain, I believe you may
want to check your communicator. I think there's a slight malfunction in it;
it seems to go off sometimes when I don't think you intend it to."

"Indeed?" As the captain spoke, Worf the Klingon let out a loud guffaw behind
him. Before Picard could turn around, the husky officer had muffled his laugh
with a beefy paw.

"Permission to leave the bridge, Captain," the Klingon barked.

"Why, Mr. Worf?"

"I have an appointment with Counselor Troi," he said, bending his head down
over his console to hide his expression.

"Counselor... Oh, well," Picard said with a sigh. "Make her... I mean, make
it so."

    

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