Chapter Text
“I don’t know, Worf.”
"It would be dishonorable not to display it," Worf said. He adjusted the stuffed head of an alien bobcat and stepped back to survey his handiwork. "Besides," he said, "it is your first kill."
"I've gone hunting before, Worf," said Riker.
"Your first kill as a Klingon." Worf turned to him. With a growl, he raised Riker's hand to his mouth and kissed the fresh scar on Riker's palm. The scar that marked him as a Klingon's mate.
Maybe the hunting trophy wasn't so bad, then.
Riker just wished it weren't directly over their marital bed.