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Worf settles back into the plush cushions behind him, and feigns a large yawn.

He isn’t tired and he feels no need to yawn, and even if he did he would be able to conceal it. But he is undercover right now; he is playing a role. And it is imperative for this mission that he appears disinterested and unimpressed at this precise moment in time. Bored, even.

He thinks of poker games in Commander Riker’s quarters, and how his colleagues had told him he needed to work on his poker face.

Worf shifts a little and focuses. He cannot afford to show even a flicker of disgust at the scene in front of him, no matter how abhorrent he finds it. He feels nothing but burning rage as he watches creatures of various alien races being led around the room; all of them naked and collared around the neck. The chains attached to their collars are tugged impatiently by their captors, who are shouting in a steady flow of different languages, trying to capture the attention of the potential buyers sat around the room. Worf can hear them yelling numbers and making lewd comments about body parts and sexual acts anytime they speak in Klingon or Federation Standard (the fact they are using Federation Standard at all is a piece of information which Worf mentally notes for later).

Worf notes that the auctioneers and the buyers in the room are just as diverse as the slaves on offer. There are Cardassians, Romulans, Ferengi, Gorn, Kazon, countless species which Worf doesn’t recognise, and (to his deep shame) other Klingons. He files this data away in his mind for his mission report, slightly frustrated that there doesn’t seem to be a particular species leading this operation, which will make any follow up missions far more difficult.

He pushes the thought of follow up missions to the back of his mind for now; he must focus on his core objective.

Worf casually allows himself to scan the room. This is not the first time an undercover mission has gone wrong, but it is the first time Worf has felt genuinely afraid. He cannot fail. This slavery ring is one of the most notorious in this quadrant of the galaxy, and Worf wants to bring it down just as much as anyone else onboard the Enterprise, but his primary goal at this moment in time is to rescue one of their own officers and bring him safely back to the ship.

Worf is here alone; a full away team would arouse too much suspicion, and the Captain had felt that Worf would be the bridge officer least at risk of having his true identity uncovered. Klingons aren’t known for being Starfleet officers, after all.

“Anything here that takes your interest?”

One of the auctioneers has approached him. Worf can’t quite place the species, and at the moment he doesn’t really care. He meets the alien’s gaze, briefly examining each of his four eyes in turn.

“Hm?” Worf raises his eyebrows as if he hasn’t really been paying attention. “Oh, I’m not too sure. I’d heard you had a few exotic creatures for sale today, and I must admit I’d felt intrigued. But I’m not sure if there’s anything here for me.”

“I’m sure we can find something just for you.” The alien’s lips curl upwards into what looks like a smile. “Do you have any particular preferences? In terms of species or appearance? We have quite the variety.”

Worf shrugs, trying to keep himself from searching the room for his target. “Something…soft, perhaps. I don’t suppose you have any humans? I like how easily they break.”

He hopes he sounds nonchalant.

The alien chuckles. “I had a feeling a strong Klingon warrior such as yourself would like a human. It’s very rare we have a human for sale; most reside in Federation space and so are particularly difficult to acquire. But you’re in luck - we do have one today! And not just any human; a Starfleet officer.”

“Really? Hm.” Worf’s hearts beat a little faster in his chest as he tries not to react.

He doesn’t want to appear eager, and luckily the alien expresses enough eagerness for the both of them, gesturing at Worf to wait one moment whilst he disappears through the crowd to the back of the room. Worf can feel the anxiety bubbling in his chest as he wonders what state his friend will be in. He has to hope that these slave traders prefer not to damage the goods they intend to sell.

Moments later the auctioneer comes back into view, tugging excitedly on a chain which is attached to a collar around the neck of a human male, who stumbles behind the alien a little clumsily as he attempts to keep up.

Worf desperately tries not to show his interest, so he doesn’t inspect the man until he’s right in front of him.

Blue eyes look back at Worf with confusion at first, and then relief. Thankfully Commander Riker is quick to catch on, clearly realising that showing any recognition or sign that he and Worf know each other would be a mistake. The Commander’s expression fades into something more neutral; he must know why Worf is here and what he’s doing. He must know that this is a rescue attempt, and that Worf would never be involved with something as repugnant as slavery.

Like all the other slaves here, Riker is naked. Worf has never seen the Commander naked before, and he can’t help but think how much smaller Riker looks without his uniform. How vulnerable that expanse of pink flesh is. How beautiful he looks.

Yes, Worf will admit to himself how much he desires the Commander. How much he has always desired him. Not only for his beauty, but for his good nature and warm humor, his brilliance and his kindness.

For the first time since Worf has known him, Riker has a hint of fear in his eyes. It would only be obvious to those who know him well; others would only see the prevailing defiance. But it is there - and it makes Worf yearn to comfort his friend.

Have no fear, Worf wishes he could say. I will protect you.

“Here,” the auctioneer says proudly. “A Federation whore, especially for you.”

Worf wants to break every bone in the alien’s body. But he cannot risk his true identity being discovered and losing the Commander.

Instead he lets his eyes drift over Riker’s body. He needs to pretend that he’s inspecting his potential purchase, but really he’s checking to see if the Commander has sustained any injuries. Luckily there doesn’t seem to be any marks on his skin or any body parts missing.

“Turn around,” Worf says firmly, keeping himself from trembling as Riker obeys. He doesn’t allow his eyes to linger any longer than they need to, no matter how much he would love to inspect the Commander’s rear under different circumstances.

There is no honor in taking what is not given to him freely.

“Open your mouth,” Worf commands, gently taking the Commander’s jaw in one large hand as he completes his inspection.

All teeth are present, as is his tongue.

Worf feels a flutter of relief, and caresses Riker’s bearded cheek with his thumb, partly to soothe his friend, and partly to reassure himself that the Commander is unscathed.

“Hm.” Worf tries to look reluctant. “I can see the appeal. But he’s nothing special, as far as I’m concerned. How much?”

The auctioneer names the price, and luckily it’s a figure Worf can work with. He cannot, however, afford for the auctioneer to sense his interest and raise the price. Starfleet does not have an infinite budget after all.

“Hm,” Worf grunts. “Seems a little high. Is his ass made of latinum?”

He will apologise to the Commander later for his vulgarity, but he can see Riker is too nervous to take offence.

“Not at all,” the alien laughs. “The price is for his status as a high ranking member of Starfleet. Such pets are quite rare. We have his uniform and identification if you wish to inspect those.”

“It matters not to me if he is affiliated with Starfleet,” Worf says dismissively.

“Also, the price is a little higher because of his eyes,” the auctioneer adds quickly. “Blue like the sapphires of the human homeworld. Quite lovely, I’m sure you’ll agree?”

Lovely doesn’t even begin to describe Riker’s eyes, but Worf still feigns disinterest. He cannot fall at the final hurdle. He cannot appear too eager and risk falling into a bidding war or losing the Commander to anyone else. He wants to be the party with the upper hand in this negotiation.

Luckily, it seems to be working, as disappointment flickers across the auctioneer’s face at the lack of enthusiasm from Worf.

Perhaps it is working a little too well, as even Riker, who up until now had kept his expression mostly stoic, suddenly looks anxious, as if he isn’t convinced that Worf will pay the price asked.

“Potential buyers are welcome to inspect the merchandise,” the auctioneer adds quickly, clearly sensing he’s on the brink of losing a sale. “Please, go ahead.”

It’s then that Worf notices from a quick glance around the room that other buyers seem to be inspecting the slaves rather thoroughly. Hands skim over asses and cup genitalia, and it suddenly dawns on Worf how unusual it will look if he attempts to buy the Commander without even touching him.

For a moment Worf lets himself be consumed by the regret that he cannot buy all the beings in this room and free them. But he can’t afford to linger on that thought. He has to walk out of here with Riker. Everything else is secondary.

“He’ll behave,” the auctioneer promises, waving what looks like a cattle prod in the air.

Riker’s jaw trembles only momentarily, but he stares defiantly at the wall behind Worf.

Worf pushes down the guilt that threatens to consume him as he quickly makes a decision.

“I like my bedwarmers to be skilled with their mouths,” Worf says. “I can usually judge their skill through a kiss.”

“I could have him on his knees for you,” the auctioneer offers eagerly, waving the cattle prod again.

Riker swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“A kiss will suffice,” Worf says, his voice low.

A kiss seems innocent enough. He hopes that Riker can deal with a kiss. It’s better than Worf having to grope Riker or for the Commander to have to perform a sexual act right here in front of everyone.

He looks Riker in the eyes, silently begging him to understand.

I’m going to kiss you now.

I need him to let me buy you.

I’m sorry.

He takes a step forward, and cups Riker’s jaw in one hand. He strokes a thumb over the Commander’s bearded cheek once again, putting as much tenderness into the gesture as he dares. He desperately wishes this were happening under different circumstances. In private, in Worf’s quarters perhaps. With Riker fully clothed and willing.

Riker flushes a little, his eyes full of understanding, accepting of his fate.

Worf leans in to close the distance between them, brushing their lips together.

He keeps the kiss chaste at first, allowing the Commander a moment to prepare. But then he deepens it, moving their lips and tongues together roughly. If they were anywhere but here, Worf would take his time; he’d keep it slow. He’d use the kiss to show Riker just how adored he is, but right now Worf needs to make it look hungry, filthy.

Thankfully Riker allows the kiss, opening his mouth and letting Worf lead the way. He tastes divine.

When they part, Worf allows himself to brush his thumb across Riker’s lower lip, and he’s ashamed to admit that it’s not just for show.

“Very compliant,” Worf praises, not breaking eye contact with Riker.

“He must like you,” the auctioneer says eagerly. “He’s very obedient for you. We’ve shown him to a few other potential buyers, and he’s either punched them or bitten them. Perhaps he’s keen for some Klingon cock.”

You will die a thousand deaths when this is over, Worf thinks.

“Perhaps,” Worf says instead, allowing his hand to drift down to Riker’s bare hip to give him a gentle reassuring squeeze, before stepping back quickly. “Alright. There’s nothing else any good here. I’ll take him.”

“Excellent, excellent!” the auctioneer beams. “You won’t be disappointed. Human males have asses like vices.”

Worf makes his payment as quickly as possible, relief washing through him when he’s finally handed the chain connected to Riker’s collar. He’s very aware that one wrong move could have lost him the Commander, and he’d made a vow to himself that if he failed his mission he would resign from Starfleet and never return to the Enterprise. But he has what he needs, and now he’s keen to make a quick exit.

He leads Riker out of the room and back out into the busy marketplace, waiting until they’re well out of sight to walk a little faster towards the point where the Enterprise can beam them up.

He draws the Commander close to him by the chain, eyes glancing warily at the beings around them heading in the direction of the auction they’ve just left.

He can finally afford to murmur, “Are you alright, sir?”

“Yes,” Riker replies quietly, although his voice shakes a little. “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me. Apart from poking me a few times with that damn cattle prod.”

“Are you sure? No one touched you?”

“No one touched me,” Riker confirms.

Worf gives him a searching look.

“No one touched me,” Riker says again, voice softer. “They were saving me for a buyer. Luckily my buyer was you.”

Worf swallows. Once again he can’t help but think about what would have happened if he’d failed. If he’d been too late, or if he’d been overconfident in his negotiations. He imagines what might have happened if someone else had bought the Commander, where they would take him and what they would do to him. He banishes these thoughts from his mind; his mission still isn’t quite complete.

“I’m glad,” Worf says, voice low as he continues to guide Riker to their destination. “And I’m sorry, sir. For the disrespectful way I treated you.”

Riker laughs, and it’s so good to hear him laugh.

“It’s fine, Worf. You were playing a character. I get it. You had to act like that to get him to let you buy me.” Riker shifts a little closer to Worf as they walk. “And I think you can drop the sir now that you’ve seen me naked and kissed me. Call me Will.”

“Will,” Worf says softly, tasting the name on his tongue. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

That earns him a smile, small and quick, but bright and beautiful. Worf is glad that Riker didn’t do that earlier, or the auctioneer would have asked for ten times more than the price Worf paid, and that’s more than Worf could possibly have afforded.

When they reach the designated point, he discreetly retrieves his combadge from his pocket and asks the Enterprise to beam them up, before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over Riker’s shoulders. It does little to cover his modesty, but Riker looks grateful nonetheless.

“There will be essential personnel only in the transporter room,” Worf assures him gently.

“At this point, I couldn’t care less if every Admiral in Starfleet sees me like this,” Riker laughs nervously, glancing around at their surroundings uneasily. “Just get me the hell out of here.”

Worf is only too happy to oblige.

*****

The moment they are beamed back aboard the Enterprise, Worf immediately takes a step to his left so that he’s standing in front of Riker.

The only people in the transporter room are the Captain, Dr Crusher, and O’Brien, but Worf still wants to preserve the Commander’s dignity nonetheless. Riker has had enough eyes on his body; he doesn’t need to add his own crewmates to that list. Worf has felt an even greater sense of protectiveness over Riker since first laying eyes on him at the auction, and he intends to continue protecting his Commander until the moment he is sure that Riker feels safe again.

“Number One,” Picard says, his voice full of relief despite the concern still on his face. “Glad to have you back onboard safely. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Riker replies as Dr Crusher rushes forward to cover him with a medical gown. “Thanks to Mr Worf.”

Riker flashes that smile again in Worf’s direction. It’s very brief, but enough to make Worf’s hearts thump dangerously fast.

“Excellent work, Mr Worf,” Picard agrees. “I’ll expect your full report in the next twenty four hours. In the meantime, get some rest. Dr Crusher, take Mr Riker to sickbay immediately for a full evaluation. I’ll be down there shortly.”

“Sir,” Riker interjects tiredly, “I’m fine. I really don’t need-“

“You’ll go to sickbay to be examined,” Picard says firmly. “That’s an order, Number One.”

Riker tightens his jaw and nods. The sparkle in his eyes is gone.

“Will.” Picard’s voice softens as he steps forward, reaching out as if to take Riker’s hand in a comforting gesture, before hesitating. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But you’re safe now and we’ll take care of you.”

“I appreciate the concern. But I think right now our focus needs to be on completing our mission. I managed to gather some pretty valuable intel on the slave traders and their operations -“

“To hell with the mission,” Picard says, raising his voice slightly. “Our focus needs to be on you. You were enslaved for over forty eight hours and I know you claim to be fine, but I would like Beverly to be the judge of that. You will submit to her examination, and you will be off duty until she clears you to return. Is that understood?”

Riker’s expression is difficult to read.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Beverly, get him to sickbay. Mr Worf, you are dismissed.”

Worf casts one more glance at Riker, looking more vulnerable than Worf has ever seen him in a medical gown and with a collar still round his neck, before nodding and heading towards the door.

“Hey,” Riker calls after him softly.

Worf pauses and turns to him. Looking in Riker’s eyes suddenly makes him think of every away mission they’ve completed together, every poker night in Riker’s quarters, every time Riker has cooked dinner for him. He’s never wanted to kiss the Commander more than in this moment.

“Thank you, Worf.” Riker looks glum, but there’s warmth in his voice. “Thanks for saving me. Who knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t been there.”

Worf doesn’t want to think about it again. He doesn’t want to think about who else might have bought Riker instead of him and the cruelty they would inflict upon him.

“It was my pleasure,” Worf replies honestly.

He’d been relieved when the Captain had chosen him for this mission; he had wanted to be the one to personally ensure Riker’s safety. The Captain had told him he was the most suitable officer for this mission as Security Chief, but Worf had known he was the only one who could undertake this mission. He was far less likely to be suspected as a Starfleet officer than any of his other crew mates.

“They would have killed you if they knew who you really were,” Riker says softly. “You put yourself at great personal risk. I’m so grateful.”

He really is beautiful.

“Be well, Commander,” Worf wishes him gently, before heading off to his quarters.

*****

Worf is excused from his next two shifts with orders to rest, but rest is the last thing on his mind. There are simply too many overwhelming thoughts in his head.

Instead Worf sits down and begins writing his mission report. He agonises over the details to include; it is his duty to provide an honest account of events, but he does not want to embarrass Riker. This report will be read by the senior crew, and Worf is unsure of how much Riker is comfortable with his colleagues knowing. In particular, he is anxious about including the parts pertaining to himself; such as the fact that he kissed the Commander against his will.

After spending some time stewing over this, he asks the computer to locate Commander Riker, and is glad to see that Riker is no longer in sickbay, but in his own quarters. Worf has been hoping to speak with him more privately now that they’re safely back on the Enterprise.

He quickly takes himself to Riker’s quarters, quietly pleased when he is allowed to enter almost immediately after ringing the chime.

He’s always enjoyed coming to Riker’s quarters. Here it feels…homely. Worf has fond memories of sitting round the table with his friends, admiring Riker’s skill at poker, or enthusiastically enjoying a freshly made omelette while Riker watched happily (even though Geordi had later told him Riker had in fact made scrambled eggs rather than an omelette). These memories make this one of his favorite places on the ship.

Worf eyes the trombone sitting in the corner, before his gaze falls to the couch, where Riker is sprawled staring at the ceiling, dressed in his uniform.

Worf has always liked the way Riker has looked in his uniform; confident and authoritative, but it’s only lately that he’s come to appreciate how that uniform clings to every plane and curve of Riker’s body. A body which Worf has now seen completely unclothed.

He’s surprised to see Riker dressed as if he’s about to begin a shift though.

Worf frowns. “Did Dr Crusher clear you for duty, sir?”

“No.” Riker chuckles, but his usual warmth and humor is missing. “I just wanted to be ready in case there’s an emergency and the Captain needs me. And I told you to call me Will, Worf.” He sits up. “We’re both off duty, and you’ve certainly earned the use of my given name.”

“Of course, Will. I just wanted to check on you. Following your evaluation in sickbay.”

Riker shrugs, and gestures for Worf to take a seat next to him.

“It was…horrible. I mean, Beverly is a pro and was great. But I got the feeling she didn’t believe me when I said no one touched me. So she did a really thorough exam, and she was really nice about it all, but…”

Riker trails off, shoulders slumping a little.

“But?” Worf encourages.

Riker sighs. “I guess I felt a little like a victim.  Even though I was fine and I had no injuries. Anyway, she seemed satisfied after checking me over, and she said she couldn’t find anything physically wrong with me.”

“But she still wouldn’t clear you for duty?”

Riker lets out a frustrated huff. “Nope. She thinks I’m not in the right place mentally. She wants me to have some counselling sessions with Deanna.”

“With the greatest respect,” Worf says gently, “I believe Dr Crusher may be right.”

Riker raises an eyebrow.

“Forgive me, Will. I know it was only a short time, but you were enslaved. It must have been…frightening. And although no one touched you, you must have been afraid of what might happen.”

“Are you saying this would impede my judgement and my ability to do my job?” Riker asks.

He does not deny what Worf has said.

“I’m not questioning your judgement or your ability,” Worf replies gently. “I know that you would command this entire ship admirably even with the gravest of injuries, be they physical or mental. I’m more concerned about you. I’m concerned about your wellbeing.”

“I never knew you cared so much,” Riker teases, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I care very much,” Worf says truthfully. “And I want you to know I’m here if you wish to talk. I understand why you might not want to talk about what happened with anyone else on the Enterprise, even the Captain or Counsellor Troi. You may not have been violated physically, but you were violated, Will. Your liberty and autonomy were violated. Your dignity and honor were violated. And I am ashamed that I played a small part in that.”

That gets Riker’s attention.

“What the hell are you talking about? You didn’t violate me, Worf.”

Worf does not consider himself a coward, but he cannot bring himself to look Riker in the eye.

“I looked at your naked body. I made distasteful remarks about you. I kissed you without your consent.”

Worf has acted dishonorably, no matter what his intentions were.

“Stop it, Worf. We talked about this. You did those things because that’s what was required to save me. I knew you didn’t mean it. I felt safe with you there. I want you to make it clear in your mission report that you did what you needed to do. You are not to portray yourself as a villain, Worf. I don’t want to hear anything about dishonoring me, okay?”

Riker’s hand briefly rests on top of Worf’s, warm skin against warm skin. He removes it after only a moment, clearly intending for it to be a comforting gesture and nothing more, but coupled with the sincerity in Riker’s tone it’s a moment Worf will treasure forever.

Worf looks Riker in the eye again, his hearts fluttering at the soft expression on the other man’s face.

“I’m having trouble writing the report actually,” Worf admits quietly.

“Yeah, I had a feeling that might be the case.” Riker gives him an understanding look, his eyes full of kindness. “What are you planning to say?”

“The truth,” Worf says. “The objective truth. But I wanted to ask if there is anything you would prefer I did not include? I can always brief the Captain verbally on those parts if needed.”

Riker shrugs, his gaze shifting to the floor. “There’s enough material to humiliate me for the rest of my career and beyond, so what the hell, just throw it all in there.”

Riker swallows, closing his eyes and pausing a moment before he says, “I’m sorry.”

When he looks up, his blue eyes are shining with tears.

Worf has never seen tears of sadness in those eyes before, and he never wants to again.

“Do you know how many people will read this report?” Riker’s voice is thick, trembling in a way that Worf has never heard before. “How can any of them ever respect me again, knowing that I was paraded around naked and offered to every low life in the galaxy?”

“I still respect you. I respect you more. You were in that situation because you were trying to track slave traders. You were incredibly brave. You should feel no shame, Will.”

Riker sniffs and laughs, sounding a little more like his old self.

“Y’know, this may be wildly inappropriate, and I know it’s not really a Klingon thing, but if you were human…I’d ask you for a hug.”

He doesn’t sound as if he’s joking, and Worf would do anything that might make Riker feel better, even if only for a little while.

“I’m no human,” Worf chuckles quietly, “but I have been known to give the occasional hug. I’d be honored to give you one now, if it would comfort you.”

That smile again. Beautiful.

“It would.”

And then Riker is in his arms, warm and solid. Safe.

Worf memorises every sensation, everything about this moment which he will revisit in his mind for years to come. The feeling of Riker’s broad chest against his, Riker’s beard against his cheek, Riker’s breath against his ear. Riker is relaxed at first, but then he stiffens a little, sighing heavily.

“Something else is troubling you,” Worf observes as they part.

Riker swallows. “I can’t stop thinking about all those other beings who were there with me. They weren’t so lucky. They didn’t have a Worf to rescue them. Instead they’re still stuck there. They’re still slaves. And the Captain won’t even entertain the idea of us completing the mission. He won’t let me go anywhere near it.”

Worf knows he will probably regret what he says next, but he’s weak for those beautiful eyes.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be you who completes the mission,” he murmurs. “I will speak to the Captain.”

Riker blinks, looking slightly surprised. “You will?”

“Yes. I will think how I can best strategically make the case in my report that we should complete the mission.”

“Thank you, Worf,” Riker says softly. “You’re a good friend.”

And then Riker is in his arms again. Worf tries to banish any dishonorable thoughts from his head as he embraces the Commander, and instead thinks of what he will say to Picard.

*****

Worf barely sleeps that night.

He dreams of a naked human in his arms and warm lips against his.

He wakes at 0300 hours and continues work on his mission report, mulling over his promise to Riker.

*****

The Captain doesn’t take much convincing in the end.

Worf’s sleepless night means he has a report ready to go first thing in the morning, and he’s had ample time to craft his argument. Riker’s intel gives them only a limited time to act, and Worf is confident he can assemble an away team big enough to apprehend the ringleaders and get the slaves medical attention, with the assistance of the USS Defiant which will be in their sector for the next two weeks.

If they pull it off, it will be a triumph for Starfleet and for freedom in the galaxy.

It is also of great personal importance to William Riker, and this seems to be the final argument that wins Picard over.

The Captain agrees to Worf leading the mission under his supervision, on the condition that Riker remains off duty and does not participate.

When Worf immediately goes to Riker’s quarters to share the news, he’s rewarded with another hug. (Worf is becoming spoiled now, and he must train himself not to become used to Riker’s affection, so that his hearts do not break if it is taken away from him).

It’s the first time he’s seen Riker look genuinely happy since his rescue, as if thoughts of his captivity have ceased to trouble him for just a short while.

“My God, Worf,” Riker breathes in his ear as they embrace. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me until we are successful,” Worf murmurs, shame seeping through him as he allows himself to enjoy the smell of the Commander’s hair. “I could not persuade the Captain to allow you to take part in the mission though. I’m sorry.”

Riker flashes a smile, his old charm returning. “There are ways I can still take part. The Captain never needs to know.”

*****

Riker’s idea of participating in the mission without the Captain’s knowledge is spending every moment between Worf’s shifts going over the intel he obtained.

Worf finds he can’t complain.

He will never complain about being in Riker’s company. Especially since this mission seems to be giving Riker focus again, and every minute they spend planning and strategising, Riker seems more like his normal self.

They spend the next few days going over every aspect of the intel, until Worf knows the layout of the auction building even better than the layout of the Enterprise, until he knows the name of all the key slave traders, until he knows the weapons they use, until he knows where the slaves are kept and how many armed guards there are -

Worf must not fail.

He will not fail.

*****

The night before Worf is due to leave with the away team, Riker invites him to dinner in his quarters.

“I make a mean lasagna,” Riker tells him, and Worf is touched to learn that Riker has actual ingredients which he’s acquired during shore leave. And he uses them to cook a meal for Worf.

“It’s the least I could do,” Riker says with a smile. “You’ve spent all your off duty time with me these last few weeks.”

“You say that as if it’s a hardship,” Worf chuckles, returning the smile.

By the way Riker’s smile becomes warmer, Worf assumes this is what humans call flirting.

“Talking about busting a slavery ring isn’t the most pleasant topic though,” Riker laughs. “So let’s not talk about that tonight. I don’t want to…I don’t want to think about any of that. Let’s just talk, okay?”

Worf never wants the evening to end. He could spend forever talking to Riker about his parents, his time at the Academy, his favorite books, his plans for his next shore leave. He could spend an eternity listening to Riker talk about his childhood in Alaska, jazz music, cooking, poker, everything -

It’s only as it’s getting late and Worf reluctantly admits to himself that he should return to his own quarters, that he finally asks the question he’s been waiting to ask all night.

“How are you feeling now, Will?” Worf asks softly. “I apologise, I know we said we wouldn’t discuss this tonight. And you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I just wanted to ask.”

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Riker admits. “I’ve been talking to Deanna a lot about it. I don’t think…I mean, it will always be something I’ll have to live with. But it’s not haunting me every minute of the day now. I was having nightmares every night at first, but now I can go a couple of days without a bad dream. I still have a lot to work through, but I’m getting there.” He nudges Worf gently. “Deanna helped me realise that a lot of my progress is down to you, y’know. You’re the only one who has some understanding of what I went through, and you’ve been such a supportive friend. You’ve helped to give me a purpose and something to focus on. And you don’t treat me like I’m breakable or fragile.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Worf’s hearts are soaring; he’s filled with joy at the thought that he has played a small role in Riker’s progress. It’s wonderful to see him look so confident again.

“Jean-Luc is willing to clear me to return to my duties next week if Beverly is happy with my next assessment,” Riker continues happily. “I can’t wait to get back on the bridge.”

“I can’t wait to have you there,” Worf says automatically.

His hearts hammer in his chest when he realises the implication of his words.

“Well.” Worf clears his throat awkwardly. “I had better let you get some rest. I should get some sleep as well ahead of the away mission.”

Riker sees him to the door, and hesitates a little when they reach it.

“Good luck tomorrow, Worf,” Riker says with a tired smile. “This will be quite something if we pull it off. We might not completely eradicate slavery in the galaxy just yet, but think of the message this will send to all the other slave traders out there. They’ll know that we’re coming for them and they won’t get away with it. So go get those bastards. Do it for Starfleet.”

He holds out his hand for a handshake.

Worf decides to be bold.

“I’ll do it for you,” he says, taking Riker’s hand.

Instead of a handshake though, Worf brings Riker’s hand to his lips, brushing them against his knuckles.

Riker turns pink beneath his beard; he looks too stunned to respond.

“Goodnight, Will.”

Worf exits Riker’s quarters, feeling as though he could hunt down every slave trader in the galaxy by himself.

*****

The mission goes as well as it possibly could.

Worf knows that the only thing that would make it better is if Riker were by his side. He wishes Riker could see for himself his former captors being apprehended, and the slaves set free. He takes particular pleasure in personally cuffing the auctioneer who just a few weeks ago had Riker on a leash.

Worf sends intermittent reports to the Enterprise, but he will ensure he writes a thorough mission report to share with the Commander afterwards. He hopes that the Captain will give Riker the credit he deserves for gathering the initial intel at great personal cost, as well as drawing together the strategy for this phase of the mission, even though he has not been physically present.

It takes two days to document all the enslaved beings and to get them safely aboard the Defiant. They couldn’t save everyone; there are some slaves who were sold before the away team arrived, and Worf wishes there was a way to trace them. Not just for Riker; Worf has become personally invested in this cause as well, and he is determined to see it through. Perhaps he can ask the Captain if he can pursue the matter himself when he returns to the ship.

But for now he is pleased with the relative success of the mission, and by the time he beams back onboard the Enterprise he’s desperate to see Riker.

Before he can do anything though, the Captain’s voice rings through his combadge, summoning him to the bridge. Worf heads there immediately after asking the rest of the away team to assemble in the morning for a debrief, thinking about how he can best keep his initial verbal report brief so that he can see Riker as quickly as possible.

He’s not prepared for the round of applause that greets him when he arrives on the bridge.

He can only try to hide his smile in response to the officers on their feet, cheering for him. Worf has never cared much for public recognition of his own success, but he must admit it brings him joy to see pride on his friends’ faces - Geordi and Dr Crusher whistle and whoop, Deanna immediately appears to give Worf a warm hug, and even Data is applauding in a manner in which Worf would describe as enthusiastic.

In the middle of the bridge, the Captain waits for him in the command chair. And sat to his right -

Eyes so blue and a smile so bright that they alone could power the Enterprise.

“Welcome back, Mr Worf,” the Captain says as he stands. “And congratulations on a very successful mission.”

Worf isn’t really listening though. He’s focused on Riker, who rises from his seat bedside the Captain, radiating pride.

“I just wanted to congratulate and thank you in person,” Picard says, glancing between Worf and Riker knowingly. “I’m very impressed, Lieutenant. Your leadership has been exemplary and you have achieved something quite wonderful today. I just wanted to tell you that, and your fellow bridge officers wanted to show their appreciation. But I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re keen for some rest. Full report in forty-eight hours.”

“Yes, sir.” Worf stands to attention. “I will endeavour to have it sooner than that.”

“Relax and celebrate for now,” Picard chuckles. “That’s an order.” He turns to Riker, his voice softening. “Go ahead, Number One.”

Riker crosses the bridge, warm smile still on his face, and then he’s wrapping his arms around Worf.

“Great job, Worf,” he says softly. “The Enterprise is proud of you.” He lowers his voice. “I’m proud of you.”

Worf can’t restrain himself any longer. He isn’t even bothered that other people are watching. In this moment he couldn’t care less that he is a Starfleet officer standing on the bridge in front of his crewmates; all he cares about is expressing to Riker everything he feels, just in case he ever comes close to losing him again. Worf never allows emotion to overwhelm him, especially not when he is on duty, but on this occasion he will make an exception.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Worf tells Riker. “Okay?”

He didn’t ask permission last time. This is his opportunity to atone for that.

Riker looks surprised, touched, and Worf waits for the Commander to mutter okay breathlessly before leaning in to brush their lips together.

It’s nothing like their last kiss. It’s soft, brief and chaste. It’s a genuine kiss, Riker wants it, and Worf isn’t bothered by the audience.

“You are both dismissed,” Picard interrupts them gently, a smile on his face as Deanna claps her hands excitedly and Data slips Geordi ten credits.

Worf doesn’t need to be told twice, smiling when his arm brushes against Riker’s as they exit the bridge together.

*****

There is no sound in the galaxy more beautiful than the sound of William Riker moaning Worf’s name as he climaxes.

Riker is soft and warm beneath him, skin flushed red and blue eyes sparkling as he rakes his nails down Worf’s back. He’s tight; tighter than any Klingon Worf has ever been with, and Worf has never felt so intimately connected with anyone than when he finishes inside Riker.

Afterwards, when they’re breathless and spent and in each other’s arms, Riker runs his fingers across Worf’s chest.

“I’m glad it was you who came for me, on that day. The moment I saw you I knew I’d be safe.”

“You will always be safe with me,” Worf promises.

He holds Riker close as they drift off to sleep, his hearts full of love.

END