Okay, here's the idea. This Picard and Q are not my usual Picard and Q (who will make another appearance soon). I wanted to do another first-time story, and since I really couldn't give them another bout of amnesia, this is what I came up with.

This is again an NC-17 story without BDSM (which is all I ever write, so no surprise there). Anyone who doesn't like lots of sex between two male (kinda) characters or yet another descent into the pit of sticky lovey-dovey stuff should read no further.

Feedback -- PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE -- at Varoneeka@hotmail.com

The Louder the Song

by

Varoneeka

aptain Jean-Luc Picard looked at the detonator and knew he wouldn't be seeing the Enterprise again.

Then he stopped looking at the detonator and sat on the floor of the derelict ship. The actual bomb was behind a forcefield seventeen decks below, and the only way to reach the deck itself was through a series of crawlways that made Jefferies tubes look spacious. He would have gone anyway, of course, except that he had only two minutes left. There was a time for giving all one's effort into an heroic attempt, and a time for just meeting one's end with aplomb.

He didn't much like the idea of dying, so much so that he'd once made a fool of himself rather than die early of a malfunction in his mechanical heart. But he wasn't afraid of it. He could face it now at least with the knowledge that he had gotten the away team out before the Romulan's undetected automated alert system had snapped its shields in place, and that his ship was getting itself to a safe distance from the explosion now only one and a half minutes away.

He was sorry for the pain his death would cause his friends and crew. Beverly and Will and Deanna and Data and Geordi would all blame themselves unnecessarily for this. It had been his decision to beam over, his choice to remain behind. And if he hadn't been so blinded by the opportunity of studying the abandoned Romulan vessel, they wouldn't have almost lost the away team in the first place.

It was hardly the only bad choice he had made lately. He sometimes wondered how long his career would continue on the momentum of his earlier triumphs. He'd thought, he really had believed that he'd gotten himself back to full strength after Locutus, but now, after realizing he would never really be separate from them, never really be free of their song...

He wasn't the same man. He wasn't the same captain. He should have smelled the trouble on this ship before it almost got the team killed, before it did get him killed.

No, he thought as he stretched his legs out before him and crossed his arms, finding comfort in his own acceptance of what could not be changed, there was no one to blame but himself, and, considering the information on the Romulans which they had gathered from this mission, he felt his own life actually wasn't too bad a trade.

"Comfortable, Mon Capitaine?"

Picard turned quickly to his right to find Q in his captain's uniform sitting in much the same way Jean-Luc was sitting, legs stretched out, arms crossed.

"Q!" He couldn't think of a less welcome sight in the universe.

The entity shook his head ruefully. "Even when you're about to die you can't be happy to see me?"

"Come to tell me this is all due to some accident I had with a cheese grater twenty years ago?"

"Your sense of humor makes one of its rare and delightful appearances. Congratulations."

Picard's eyes went to the detonator as he prepared to make a point about how little time was left for Q to ruin his day, but what he saw made the words stall out. The detonator had been showing the loss of time in very small units, close in size to hundredths of a second. Now, the numbers were frozen.

The captain turned back to frown at Q. "What are you up to now?" he demanded.

"Well, frankly, I thought I would never have a better time to make a little bargain with you."

"What bargain?"

"One for your life, mon ami. No death before your time. No guilt for your crew."

"In exchange for what?" Picard's voice was heavy with suspicion.

"Why, for you, of course, Jean-Luc."

"For me? What is that supposed to mean?"

Q rolled his dark eyes and allowed his full lips a scornful smirk. "You're the densest Frenchman I have ever met."

And just as Picard was about to retort that he was tired of Q's enigmatic hedging and childish games, Q reached out and lightly stroked the side of the man's face.

"You can't mean..."

"Can't mean what?"

"You...you're a Q."

"Yep."

"So you couldn't...possibly...this is some sort of trick, or insult, or joke."

"If I just rolled you over, Jean-Luc, would you believe me then?"

Picard felt the heat rush to his face while outrage and discomfort erupted from his stomach.

The entity sighed. "Honestly, Jean-Luc, I don't think I could have been more obvious with you if I'd painted 'Do me, Picard' on my forehead. And now I'm tired of waiting for you to see things clearly, and I'm not about to get casually rejected now that I've been so appalling blatant.

"So," the dark eyes narrowed. "What's it to be? Are you going to promise to let me enjoy your incredibly sexy body, or are you going to allow yourself to be blown to bits?"

"What is it you really want, Q?"

Picard didn't for a minute believe Q actually wanted to have sex with him. He could easily believe, however, that Q wanted to humiliate him, to embarrass him, to make him beg or crawl or simply endure Q's scorn for whatever pleasure it gave the nearly omnipotent creature.

In a sort of fugue of gestures, Q shook his head and rolled his eyes and sighed. "I believe I really am going to have to convince you."

And then suddenly Q simply launched himself onto Picard, who was then on his back, his wrists held down by Q's hands, the long body of his nemesis pressing down along the whole length of his own. That sensual, petulant face was only an inch or so away from his Picard's, and the captain felt his breath catch and his body shrink from the contact. Yet he was horrified to feel something deep within himself react to this. Could Q feel it too? Suddenly, he wished more than anything that the bomb would go off, that he would die now, quickly, before Q could see anything else that would provide the entity with more ammunition.

And then Picard wasn't wishing anything, wasn't thinking anything, because Q had reached down and was kissing him, deeply, passionately. He'd never kissed a man before, not like this, at any rate, and though this wasn't really a man, it felt absolutely nothing like kissing a woman. Q was strong and heavy, but his touch was gentle and almost reverent. Even though Picard forced himself not to kiss Q back, inside he was responding. Warm, skilled lips were drawing out that response, and Picard almost moaned with it.

As if sensing that, Q's kiss grew even more ardent. The effort it took Picard to be still under these skilled movements wasn't as bad as trying to keep the Borg Collective from controlling his mind, but it ranked right up there.

However, it was impossible that he should respond to Q, this thing that had nothing but disdain for his whole species, nothing but apathy and contempt for all the things Picard himself held precious.

Q broke the kiss and bored his eyes into the man's confused stare, his hips gently and slowly rubbing against the narrower pelvis they covered.

"You still don't believe me?" The question was actually more an incredulous statement.

"What would I have to give something like you?" Picard asked flatly. "What would an omnipotent being want with such a paltry thing as Human sexuality?"

Q pressed down a little harder, making the captain aware that he was about to become seriously aroused, as his expression grew fierce. "I don't care whether you believe me or not. This is the bargain. Do you want to die or do I get your body?" Picard stared at him, still unable to accept that this was happening.

"Think about your crew," the entity hissed, "and how awful they will feel. Think about what you won't be able to accomplish when you're dead. Perhaps the Borg will attack again and you won't be there to save Humanity. I promise you, when you're gone, I'm not going to help your pitiful species ever again, and they won't last long."

"Q, I don't..."

"Just your body, Picard, not your soul, and only at night, or when you're off-duty. Is the torment Riker will feel really worth saying no to me? Where else is Data going to find a surrogate father? Do you really want Beverly to cry her rather unattractive little eyes out for you?"

"What is the point of all this? I can't believe for one minute that --"

Q cut him off with another kiss, a rough one this time, forcing open the man's lips with his jaw and probing insistently while Q's hands left his wrists to smooth down his chest. Picard felt both violated and shaken, dimly aware of a desire for Q not to stop, while simple anger made him growl down Q's throat.

"Your virtue or your life, Mon Capitaine?" The dark eyes stared into his glittering outrage. "Oh, and the lives of your crew as well."

"The lives of my crew? What do you mean?"

"We should have realized they weren't just going to watch while you got blown up. They've devised quite the rescue plan, but it won't work They will all be killed, I promise you. But I could see that it is successful. I could make this all just one more adventure for the USS Enterprise. Come now, is my price really so high?"

Picard felt the sweat gathering on his body. Somehow he knew that Q wasn't lying, that his ship and crew would be destroyed without his intervention. Suddenly, the bargain was easy to make.

"Whatever it is you want from me, to save my ship, you know you can have it," Picard growled. "You've known that since Farpoint."

"So I have, Mon Capitaine," Q's voice said softly.

And then Picard was alone, watching the detonator mark off the final seconds of his life, until the transporter beam caught him up, and he was safely aboard the Enterprise.

"Riker to the bridge," his first officer called, even as his eyes lit up in deep joy at the captain's safe return, "get us out of here!"

Three days passed, and Picard grew more tense with each hour. Q made no appearance, and as he had promised, the incident with the Romulan ship became just one more close call in the Enterprise's vast repertoire of narrow escapes and reckless adventures. They moved on to chart the Hebronis Nebula, conducting diagnostics and considering a variety of system upgrades, and all seemed normal and smoothly running.

Troi, of course, sensed the tension in him, so he kept his distance and muttered something about a report to Starfleet headquarters that needed working on. Otherwise, no one noticed that he barely slept, waiting for Q to appear and demand his payment.

He still did not believe that that payment would be sexual, or strictly sexual. He had no doubt that Q would be humiliating him, perhaps even hurting him, perhaps even damaging his relationship with his crew beyond repair.

And it was this last which truly prevented him from sleeping, which tormented him in dreams when he did manage to drift into unconsciousness. How would his crew feel if they knew that he had agreed to sell himself, to Q of all people, for them?

And beyond that. After Q's kisses Picard had finally admitted to himself that he did, indeed, feel a deep, dark attraction to the entity, and had for some time now. The idea of being forced did not appeal to him, but the memory of that closeness, of Q's skilled lips on his own, made him warm even as he shuddered in dread. The knowledge that he wanted Q so badly that even the prospect of touching him and being touched by him under duress was not sufficient to eradicate his desire shook Picard so deeply he had trouble concentrating on his command. Even in the daytime, when he was supposed to be "safe," he found himself starting at shadows.

After his fourth day of this, almost staggering with fatigue, Picard went to his quarters and had made it halfway to his replicator for a cup of tea before he realized that, finally, Q had appeared.

Turning to look at the dark-haired, dark-eyed form sprawled out on his sofa, Picard was aware of an incongruous relief, even as he began, for the first time, to feel actual fear. This was going to be awful, but at least now he would know what Q truly planned.

"Not even going to say hello?" Q asked softly.

Suddenly Picard was aware of a desire to scream and rail at the entity, and the rage that filled him was intense and terrifying.

"If you're going to rape me," he grated out, "then do it. Don't ask me to relax and enjoy it."

Q smiled faintly, almost, Picard would have said under different circumstances, affectionately.

"I have no intention of doing anything to you that you're not going to enjoy, but I can tell you don't believe that."

Suddenly Q came off the couch and walked the few steps to stand in front of the captain. Picard could feel Q's body heat and clenched his hands into fists at his thighs, wishing he could fight, still wanting to scream.

"My, my, my, you do look frightened, Mon Capitaine. You know, it's not too late to change your mind."

"How?"

"If you want to go back to that Romulan ship and be there when it explodes, knowing that your ship and crew are also destroyed in the explosion, I'll take you there right now. Say the word, and our agreement is over."

Picard felt another wave of rage wash through him, leaving him a little weak with the strain of his control.

"You know I won't do that, Q."

"I don't, actually." Q's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward just slightly as his voice dropped. "This really kills you, doesn't it, Picard? And yet weren't you willing to trade so much more of yourself -- your mind and your soul -- simply for Data's life to that appalling female? Now, why is it, do you suppose, that you could make a deal with the devil so uncompromisingly, and now can't give me so much less for so much more in return?"

When Picard didn't answer Q's faint smile returned. "Do you think it might be because you didn't really want her and you do want me?" Q pulled back slightly and walked around behind Picard, then, as the captain had thought he would, whispered into his ear: "Aren't you in more danger now, Jean-Luc, even though you know I won't really hurt you?"

"Do I?" Jean-Luc asked, ashamed to hear his own voice tremble slightly.

Q chuckled softly and then finally, after so many times threatening him like this, finally brought his lips to Picard's ear and delicately kissed along the soft curve, slowly, down to his lobe.

Picard felt his breath catch painfully and put everything he had into remaining still. The desire he'd felt for Q was completely gone now, except for the almost overwhelming desire to scream.

"You're shaking!" Q exclaimed in his ear before the entity pulled back and stepped in front of him. Picard focused on his Starfleet collar. "Look at me, Jean-Luc."

The captain raised dull hazel eyes to Q's puzzled frown.

"I don't understand. I know that you want me, and you must have realized by now that I really do want you. I've saved your life more than once, and helped you save Humanity more often than I can count. Why can't you just...give in to this?"

"Because you're forcing me!" The scream almost came out with that one. "How can this be anything I want when you're making me prostitute myself for my ship and crew? I thought --" He had to stop to draw in an embarrassingly ragged breath. "I thought you...cared for me, in your own way. I was even beginning to trust you!"

"I do care for you and you should trust me."

Picard barked a laugh that actually hurt his throat. He realized he'd never been so tense, all through his body, in his life. Perhaps if he flinched too hard away from Q he would break his bones.

"Jean-Luc, if I don't push you a little, I'm never going to be able to have you, and I can't have that. I've restrained myself for you this long and to this point, but --"

"But ultimately I'm just some sort of upstart plaything, a pet who won't mind his master, an inferior lifeform whose dignity and right to his own body mean nothing!"

Q had become very thoughtful. "So, the key issue for you here is the question of choice?"

"Of course it is!"

"And what if I were to tell you that choice is an illusion, that neither of us have chosen to be here together, or can change in the slightest what we are to become to each other?"

"I'd say that was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

Q smiled at him sadly. "I thought you'd say that."

The entity turned and walked to the window, his hands behind his back, contemplating the stars while Picard willed his heartbeat to slow and his body to relax. He was getting a terrible headache.

Q turned to look at him with unforgiving eyes. "Do you agree that you made a bargain with me: your life and the lives of your crew for your body? That we made this agreement in good faith? That your body now belongs to me, every night of your life, for the rest of your existence?"

Angrily, Picard's hands went to the fastening of his uniform.

"No!" Q snapped, stilling him. "It's just a yes or no question."

A muscle worked in Picard's jaw, flexing his temples. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, my body belongs to you."

Q nodded. "But despite that, if I actually try to collect on what you owe me, you'll hate me, and hate yourself when you enjoy it." Picard's mouth opened. "It's still a yes or no question, Jean-Luc."

Picard stared at him a long moment, then, "Yes, it will do irreparable harm to how I think of you."

Q shook his head slowly. "You don't know how long I have been waiting to touch you, Mon Capitaine. The temptation simply to walk over there and strip you and bend you over and take you and watch you come is...extraordinary."

The vulnerability in Q's voice and expression were so at odds with his words that Picard could do nothing but watch, well aware that he was still shaking.

"So I will make a compromise," Q said finally, with overt reluctance. "I will never give up your nights, but you get the choice over your body back if you agree to hate neither me for wanting you, nor yourself for wanting me back."

Picard tried to work that one out on his own for a minute, then had to ask, "What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm staying, and that I'm going to be here, every night, no matter what. Or I should say, every time that you're off-duty. You won't be able to make me leave. However, what we do together will be up to both of us. I've made my intentions clear, but you have the right to say no. I have the right to try to get you to say yes, but if you say no for eternity, then so be it. I will at least have the pleasure of your company." The dark eyes actually twinkled at him a second before Q scowled rather fiercely.

"Do you agree?"

"Considering everything, I'd be a fool not to."

"Hm. Well, I'd say I just made a whopping concession. You could thank me."

The relief that had gone through Picard was too great to suppress, and the captain sank onto his couch to put his hands on knees that still trembled.

"Actually," his startlingly wry voice said a moment later, "what you've done goes a bit beyond thanks, but 'Thank you,' if that's what you want to hear, Q."

"I told you, no more ownership issues. Thank me or not, whatever you want." Q sounded furious, but he stayed at the window, scowling. Picard watched him carefully.

"Well, Jean-Luc, if I weren't here, what would you be doing now?"

"Sleeping."

Q shrugged. "Then go ahead. You might as well get used to me sooner rather than later."

"I was...planning on a shower."

"I thought you were headed for the replicator."

"For some herb tea."

"Well, get that or don't." Q stalked over to the armchair Picard liked to read in and flung himself down with a sour expression.

Picard turned and walked quickly into his bedroom, just this side of fleeing, and then on into the bathroom. Once the door was shut, his breathing began to return to normal, and he actually sunk to a crouch on the floor.

The mix of feelings in him was hard to separate, hard to understand. He felt overwhelmingly relieved that Q wasn't going to rape him. He felt pleased with Q for realizing that what he'd been attempting was wrong. He was furious that Q hadn't realized that from the beginning. He felt more than slightly trepidacious that Q meant what he said about being there during his off-hours, every night, every day. He also felt, though he had to reach down deeply for it, a very faint disappointment that Q hadn't kept the matter out of Picard's hands, that he had made him responsible for his own body again.

And this last would have stunned and humiliated Picard, except that he understood it. All those years with Troi at his side had taught him a thing or two about facing himself. He did want Q, with a dangerous intensity. And on his own, he would never allow Q to be that close to him, would never trust the entity that far. Yet in addition to being attracted to Q, he had, against all reason, started to like him. And so in time Q would get bored and leave, and something...fascinating would be gone from Picard's life.

After a few minutes or so, Picard stood and took off his uniform, aware that he and it were more than a little sticky with perspiration. He recalled what Q had said about getting used to Q's being there, and smiled wryly at the thought of ever relaxing around the omnipotent creature.

The shower felt good, and he stayed in there longer than usual because of that and to put off seeing Q again as long as possible. Finally, with his skin a little red and his fingertips puckered, he dried off and stood in the middle of the room, realizing with chagrin that he hadn't remembered to bring in his pajamas.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he squared his shoulders and walked through the door into the bedroom, only to find that Q wasn't there.

Quickly, he went to the drawer which held his sleeping attire, slipped into his pajamas, put the towel in the processor, got into bed and told the computer to turn off the lights in the bedroom. Perhaps Q was tired of this already.

"You're quite the clean freak, aren't you, Johnny?" Q's voice said from the doorway.

"I suppose," Picard said carefully.

"Lights off!" Q called to the computer, and the front room went dark, leaving the only illumination that from the stars over Picard's bed. The captain couldn't help noticing that Q had changed from his uniform into pajamas not all that different from his own -- loose shorts and a crew-necked, short-sleeved shirt of black silk -- and that they were more than a little disturbing as his companion walked to the bed and got in on the other side, pulling the comforter up to his chin before rolling on his side to look at Picard.

"How about a good-night kiss?"

"No."

"Can I at least hold you while you sleep?"

"No."

"Very well." Q rolled back over on his back and closed his eyes. Picard watched suspiciously for a long time, but Q's breathing was even and deep and somehow soothing, and eventually the man fell into a solid and profound sleep. Three nights' waiting had taken more than their toll.

The second Picard was asleep Q's eyes opened and the entity quietly rolled back over on his side, the dark eyes watching the slow rise and fall of Picard's chest through all the long hours of the night.

icard called Riker and Troi into his ready room and sat behind his desk with his tea steaming and his monitor on, well aware that he'd put his shields in place for what was going to be the hardest conversation he'd ever had in here.

Q had been in his bed this morning when he'd woken up.

"Morning, darling," the entity had said, smiling faintly into Jean-Luc's eyes.

"Are you always going to say that?"

Q seemed to consider this a moment. "You should probably get used to it."

Picard rolled his eyes and got out of bed, snagging his uniform on the way to the bathroom. When he came out again, he found the bed made and Q in the front room with a breakfast of coffee and croissants on the table before him.

Picard almost smiled ruefully at the sight, until he noticed there were three cups.

"Q," he warned.

Q shrugged and spread his hands. "I didn't invite her."

The door chimed on cue, and Picard stared at it in some dismay. He looked back at Q, trying not to plead with him to leave.

"I'm not going to be your dirty little secret, Picard."

The door chimed again, and with his shoulders squared, the man snapped, "Come."

"Good morning, Jean-" Beverly stopped walking into the room and stared at the dark-haired form seated calmly at the table.

"Morning, Bev."

Picard was suddenly assailed by a vision of strangling Q, but he said merely, "We have company."

"I see. Hello, Q." She tried a little smile and sat down, feeling a little over-prim but unable to deal with her shock in any other way. She couldn't help feeling a sharp similarity between this moment and the scene she had once walked in on between Jean-Luc and Vash.

"Coffee?" Q asked, picking up the pot while Picard sat down at the table with a somewhat tense expression.

"Thank you," she said, eyes going back and forth a bit as Q poured. Sugar and cream were taken care of, and rolls buttered and jammed.

"Any interesting cases in Sickbay, Doctor?" Q asked suddenly, pretending not to notice when Beverly spilled a bit of coffee into her saucer.

"Uh, no, not really. I had a bit of a problem with a strain of Esltian Mumps last week, and I was worried that there might be an outbreak, but it seems to have been contained."

"Actually, you might want to Check Lt. Parthins one more time."

Crusher's eyes widened slightly, and she set her coffee cup down with care. "Thank you...Q."

"More coffee?"

Picard almost groaned, sitting in his ready room, thinking of that endless meal, with Q being so polite and Beverly shooting him incredulous and suspicious glances every three seconds. When it had finally been long enough for Jean-Luc to make noises about going on duty, Q had nodded regally, told him he'd see him later tonight, and then vanished, clearing away the table as he flashed out.

Beverly had turned to him with eyebrows raised.

"Q plans to spend some time aboard the Enterprise. He's...conducting some sort of experiment. I'm not sure of his intentions. When I am, I will inform the crew as necessary. I see no reason to make his presence generally known at present, considering the alarm it will doubtlessly cause."

"Should I stop coming to breakfast for awhile?"

"No! I mean, do whatever you feel comfortable with, of course."

"Of course." Crusher nodded, then rose from the table with a smile. "Well, I'll see you at the afternoon meeting."

Picard had left directly after her, not wanting to see Q flash back into the room for more "togetherness."

The ready room door chimed.

"Come," he said, smiling his best captain's air as Riker and Troi entered with looks of mild interest. He motioned them to sit down with the hand not holding his worry crystal, and then realized he hadn't the slightest idea how to start.

His officers sensed that immediately, of course.

"Astrophysics is almost done with their use of the lateral sensor array," Riker reported. "That means everyone has had a shot at using the new system at least once and we'll get a reduction in complaints for a while."

"A short while," Picard said with an automatic smile, then cleared his throat with authority and launched into it:

"Q made an appearance on the ship last night, and has given me reason to believe he may be...visiting us for some time to come." He held up a hand at their expressions. "Now, I do not believe at present that he intends to interfere with ship's systems or operations. I think, I know he has some sort of ulterior motive, but I cannot tell what that is at present, and until I do know, I don't want the crew distracted unnecessarily. In time, with patience, he will make his intentions clear, and then we will deal with him. Until then, I just felt it would be wise for you to know of his presence."

Troi and Riker nodded, and though she knew the captain very much wanted that to be the end of the conversation, she couldn't let it finish here, and told Picard as much with her eyes. She had often sent him such a look to communicate her need to see him in private. What he was saying and what he was feeling had almost nothing to do with each other.

Therefore, she was more than a little surprised when he shook his head. "No, please, Counselor. That's why I'm seeing the both of you together. If there's something you want to discuss, I'd like Will to be here."

Riker frowned, but Troi realized the unspoken wish. He was using them both to keep from getting into something too intimate or revealing with the other.

However, Troi didn't feel like being intimidated out of doing her job today. She knew as well as Picard did that he was not feeling like his usual self, that he hadn't been since they got back from the 21st Century.

"Captain, I've never known you to be this...unsettled by Q's appearance. If you sense a genuine danger to the ship, it's part of our duty to know about it."

Riker projected silent support for the counselor's rare show of force.

"I do not believe the ship to be in any danger from Q."

"I'm sorry, Captain, but you don't quite believe that."

Riker's eyebrows shot up. "Sir, if Q has made any sort of threat regarding the safety of this crew..." His voice trailed off as Picard all but shot from his chair to stand in front of the room's large window. Several seconds ticked by in silence before Picard finally spoke.

"Q saved the ship from the Romulan derelict. Your plan to rescue me didn't take into account that the Romulans had redundant proximity detectors." He turned to shrug at the stunned first officer. "It was a fine plan, Will. It just couldn't account for everything."

"Considering that Q helped you save Humanity, Captain, why do you feel that his saving the Enterprise constitutes a greater threat?" Troi asked.

"I made...a bargain with Q."

"What sort of bargain?" Riker demanded.

"A personal one. He wants to spend some time with me. For what purpose, I don't know." Troi felt his discomfort spike. She had the distinct impression he was lying to himself. "And until I do know all I can tell you is that he's going to be around, doubtlessly making a pest of himself, for a time.

"In time," Picard continued in a tone that revealed he was trying to convince himself as much as them, "he will get bored with this game and move on someplace else. It's not as though saving the Enterprise involved any effort for him."

"But you're worried that he might take back his favor if he doesn't get what he wants?" Troi asked.

Picard let his sour feelings answer her for a time. "It wouldn't be like him to do so," he said finally. "And Q has had a hand in the Enterprise's fate since Farpoint. It may simply be that I'm uncomfortable with the reminder. When he does finally show his hand, I have every confidence in the crew's ability to handle the situation as well as it can be handled. Until then, I would like your suggestions on whom else should be notified."

"Data and LaForge will be able to keep this news to themselves well enough, and I'd like them monitoring ship's systems for signs of anything unusual," Riker said.

"Agreed."

"Dr. Crusher should know," Troi stated.

"She does." His tone wasn't correct, and at their expressions he explained: "Q was talking to me at breakfast."

They nodded. Riker stood up. "Well, I'll explain the situation to Data and Geordi."

Picard nodded back, well aware that the tension in the room had dissipated not a jot, and felt uncharacteristically resentful of his life. It struck him as a bit more than he should have to bear: being pursued by an omnipotent entity while his empathic counselor looked on!

Picard shoved the feeling down before that same counselor insisted that he talk about the feeling, and watched his officers leave with relief. Troi had been more cloying than usual since they'd returned from 21st century Earth, since she'd felt how he'd been affected by the Borg's voices in his head, since she'd felt...what? What did she know about his weaknesses?

Picard frowned at himself fiercely, trying to force away that doubt. Troi would never do anything against him, no matter what she knew. She was only trying to help. She -- and Riker, and then others -- they weren't the enemy.

He tried to stop frowning now and couldn't. He was worried that Q would appear.

But the day passed without any sign of Q, and Picard plowed through quite an impressive amount of work trying to keep his mind off his personal problems, staying a little later in his ready room, and then a little later on the bridge, than he was used to.

Only after 20:00 did he turn for his quarters, more than a little anxious that Q would suddenly appear to demand his company in front of others. He had been on duty all day, though, he told himself firmly, hardly having stopped for lunch.

As he neared the door to his quarters, Picard had a sudden vision of the years ahead of him: Q waiting in his room for him to return, night after night of that face and that voice asking him how his day was, threatening him with bargains, taunting him with being weak or obtuse, or savage or child-like.

But surely Q would get bored and go away soon.

His quarters looked just as he had left them that morning, no Q, no sign of Q.

Daring to hope that Q had already grown tired with this game, Picard cautiously got one of Nella Darren's herbal tea blends from the replicator, removed the top layer of his tunic, and retrieved the book he had been trying to read, The Crying of Lot 49. It wasn't his usual sort of book, but he found the symbolism interesting, and the idea of an underground American post office in the 20th century more than a little amusing, considering what had happened in the 21st. By the time he had finished the novel, his tea was gone and it had become quite late.

He didn't try to fight his own instinct to get undressed in the bathroom, and came out after his shower in his pajamas to an empty room. Sighing in the beginnings of true relief, he pulled back his comforter and slid into bed, closing his eyes with relish.

A warm hand lightly trailed his right thigh.

"Q!" Picard sat up in bed to face the smiling entity. Black pajamas once again.

"Sorry not to have shown up earlier, Jean-Luc, but you seemed desperate for a little peace after talking about me to others all day."

Q launched himself forward at that, and again Picard found himself on his back with Q on top of him, his wrists held down by strong hands while Q's long body rubbed slowly against his own. Unlike before, there were no thick layers of uniforms between their bodies. If anything, the warm silk of their pajamas simply allowed the feel of Q's undulating hips to be smoother and more disturbing than if they had been naked.

"I thought you were going to respect my right to say no to you."

"So say it," Q challenged softly before lowering his mouth to Picard's and again using his skill to draw forth a powerful response. Q's lips were both gentle and insistent and the man under them felt a sudden rush of lust that made him forget to keep his mouth closed. The warm tongue that thrust over his own sent signals all over Picard's body, and he found his hands, no longer restrained, were actually grasping at Q's arms.

Picard jerked his mouth away. "No, Q."

"No to what?" the softly sensual voice sighed.

"No. Stop kissing me."

"All right," Q said with disappointment, then closed his eyes and slightly changed the angle at which he was sliding his pelvis over Picard's. Jean-Luc gasped as he felt the swelling flesh there caress his own, and tingles of pleasure began to dart out from his groin all the way to his fingers and toes.

"Stop that as well!"

Q sighed, but didn't alter his movements. "Stop what this time?"

"Stop...rubbing yourself against me."

Q complied, leaving himself pressed firmly to that central spot.

"Get off me, Q. I mean it."

Q sighed again, then rolled them over so that Picard was on top of him instead, deftly sliding his hands down the front of Picard's open top to find his nipples. Jean-Luc hissed and shuddered as those nimble fingers twirled over his sensitive flesh, and he couldn't help being fascinated by the look of pleasure that spread over Q's face at his reaction. Q's left leg hooked over him suddenly, pressing Picard closer to him even as the captain finally put his hands flat on the bed on either side of Q and pushed away.

"Stop touching me, Q!"

And Q let him go immediately, even moving back a little in the bed while Picard sat up.

"Is this your idea of leaving me alone?"

"I never said I would leave you alone, I said I would listen when you said no. And I did."

"So 'Stop touching me' is the magic phrase?"

"For tonight. If you use it too often, though, I think I'll have to resort to touching myself."

Picard glared at him with wide eyes. Q waved a dismissive hand in the air and stretched back on the bed, keeping to his side of it.

"Done now, Mon Capitaine. Truce for the night. You really are tired and need to sleep. Who knows what sort of interstellar bad guys may appear in the morning?"

Slowly, eventually, Picard laid back down in his bed, keeping himself still and tense until the sound of Q's steady breaths again lulled him into unconsciousness.

his business of dressing in the bathroom must be getting old," Q remarked three days later as Picard grabbed his uniform and headed for the shower two seconds after waking up. Q kept greeting him in unexpected ways when he woke up and when he returned to his quarters, kept kissing him and touching him. The closeness was starting to wear on him, and now the captain had had disturbing dreams all night and woken up with the beginning of an erection. That Q had pretended not to notice -- or just might possibly not have noticed, as Picard got rid of it immediately upon waking -- only made Picard more uncomfortable. This morning's shower was going to be cold.

"I still have no intention of performing for your amusement."

Q sighed, and Picard found the sound was getting annoying in the extreme. "I would be more than happy to leave the room if you simply asked me to...and gave me a kiss on the forehead."

"Q, that's ridiculous."

"Well, I have to have some fun around here. I'm beginning to feel a little unwelcome."

Picard simply turned and walked into the bathroom with his uniform, emerging fifteen minutes later clean and clear-headed and ready for work.

"I have an early meeting with the senior staff today," he growled at Q, who was still in bed, lying mostly on his stomach and curled around Picard's pillow. "No breakfast with Dr. Crusher."

That was hardly new. Crusher hadn't returned after that first morning. "She must be so disappointed."

Picard left without another word, and spent the day as the perfect captain, at least, in all the ways in which he still felt confident. He was attentive to his staff, diligent with his paperwork, and patient with several inconveniences and annoyances as the entire crew participated in a series of battle drills. They would continue for the rest of the week, followed by an extensive round of diagnostics and maintenance overhauls. The Enterprise-E was about to reach its second year mark in service, and Picard wanted her to sparkle.

He wanted, fiercely, for everything to be right again. Starfleet was scrambling once more to get the fleet back up to full force after the ravages of the Borg attack. Who knew whether the Romulans would take advantage of their weaknesses? Who was to say they would be able to maintain their staring contest with the Klingons, or their dangerous posturing with the Cardassians?

The flagship should set the example, the standard and the acme for the other ships to pursue...and her captain was feeling less and less up to the challenge with every morning he woke from his nightmares, every meeting he confronted the unanswered questions on his crew's faces. What if the Borg came again? Could they somehow keep the world safe while Earth licked its wounds and stockpiled its arsenal?

Somehow, having saved Humanity so often, Picard felt the weight of his overwhelming responsibilities as never before.

So great were his concerns that there had been several longs periods during the past few days when he managed to put Q completely out of his thoughts. He even turned towards his quarters for dinner at his usual hour that night before remembering what might await him there.

Once he was headed for his rooms, however, he would not allow himself to be frightened off. He had to deal with Q sooner or later, and perhaps tonight he could convince the entity that he had no intention of ever giving him what he at least claimed he wanted.

Squaring his shoulders once again, Picard strode through the door and was tackled.

"Oomph!" went the captain as his body hit the carpet, so tangled up in Q's arms and legs that he seemed to fall in slow motion. Nevertheless, he was breathless and slightly stunned by the impact, and so didn't manage to avoid being rolled on his back as Q took him in his arms and kissed him soundly, thoroughly, murmuring between forays:

"I've missed you, Mon Capitaine."

"Stop kissing me, get off me, don't touch me!"

"Your lips say 'no no no,' but your eyes say 'yes yes yes!'"

"Damnit, Q!" Picard bellowed, uncaring who might hear them out in the hall. "Stop this now!"

And Q was up and off him immediately, walking casually to the table. "I believe you need something to eat, Jean-Luc."

"Q." Picard spoke wearily, not managing anything better yet than a sitting position on the floor. "This...this isn't..."

"Are you going to complain, Mon Capitaine, after I have made so many concessions and lived so completely by my word?"

Picard stood and straightened his uniform.

"Could you at least refrain from grabbing me when I enter the room?"

Q thought about it a moment. "No."

Picard shook his head, still trying to ignore the complaints of his body -- getting louder now every day -- that Q had felt so good against him, that his kisses had been perfect, and that the look in his eyes had promised so much he really wanted. It had simply been a long time for him, and Q was highly skilled. That was all. And if he couldn't control himself so much as even to resist Q, of all people...

"So what will it be for dinner, then?"

Distracted, Picard responded automatically, "Whatever you'd like."

Q's eyes lit brilliantly, and Picard had time only for a half-second of shocked regret before Q rushed at him again, this time knocking him gently onto the sofa.

"You," Q whispered roughly, color suffusing his face as his eyes darkened further with lust. "I'd like you."

And then Q was kissing him again, really kissing him now, with an intensity which left Picard aware -- when he could think -- that the entity had been holding himself back until now. Q's lips pressed and twisted and slid against his, leaving him breathless and aching. While Q's hands caressed up and down the front of his uniform, again that long warm body pressed against him, almost burying him in the cushions. His tongue once again expertly twined around Jean-Luc's, and the man realized dimly that he was growing accustomed to this intimacy, that it was beginning to feel right and natural and almost unbearably sensual.

"Q, I --" he managed to get out before those lips claimed his again. Q actually whimpered slightly, and the small noise made Picard shudder with an answering need even as his hands went to Q's shoulders with the intention of pushing that body away from his.

But somehow he was pulling on those shoulders instead of pushing, while the front of his uniform opened under Q's hands even as Q's tongue breached him once again. Q's fingers went eagerly to Picard's chest, where they encountered the tank underneath. Q ended the kiss gently.

Picard's eyes, closed against the feelings washing through him, opened wide at the sound of tearing cloth, and he looked up into Q's face to see determination give way to delight before his head bent down to suck gently at one of his pale aureoles. The pleasure it caused all through the man's body made him gasp.

This had to stop, now. Picard was becoming aware of losing himself as the stabs of desire all through his body were increasing in warmth and ferocity. He was starting to touch Q back, starting to need to feel his skin against his own.

Fake skin, he told himself fiercely. This body on top of me is a lie, a sham, a puppet to a creature powerful enough to destroy the galaxy. I don't want this. I don't want this!

"I don't want this, Q."

The lips and fingers stilled, and ragged breathing from both of them was the only sound or movement for a long, long minute. Then Q looked directly in Picard's eyes, boring into them with bright lust, and Jean-Luc felt stripped naked and laid bare. The air in his lungs was fire, and the burning of his body seemed to feed off every breath.

Then, in one smooth movement, Q slid his right hand down the front of Picard's uniform, past the waistband of both his uniform and his underwear, and the captain gasped in near shock from pleasure as that large warm hand wrapped delicately around his erection. He couldn't keep his back from arching, or his legs from sliding just slightly apart. Oh, but that felt good. It had been so long, far too long, and Q knew just how to touch him, even within the constriction of his clothing.

Picard moaned aloud when Q's lips returned to his right nipple, then traced a brief pattern to his left. As he sucked hard, his hands touched Picard more firmly, and sparks seemed to rise up from the fire of Jean-Luc's body into his mind.

"Tell me no," Q said quietly, his lips brushing the sensitized nipple below them. When Picard made no reply other than raising his hips just a bit to meet the stroking of his hand, Q licked the nipple roughly, then blew on it and listened to Picard moan again, louder this time. "Tell me no now and I will get you some dinner."

The chuffing noises Picard made might have been desperate attempts at laughter.

"But understand, Jean-Luc, I'm only going to try again, and again, every night until you realize what I meant about lack of choices. I knew..." His stroking hand increased its tempo and Picard began to move more deliberately in rhythm, wanting more and getting it. "I knew from when I first saw you on the bridge of your little ship that I had to be here like this with you."

Q smiled into his half-closed eyes, drinking in the incredible sight of desire upon the captain's aquiline features, and increased the pace of his strokes again. "Good thing for me you're so worth having, eh, mon ami?"

And then Picard realized he'd had enough of just lying here, and even as he set his jaw to hold back the orgasm Q's hand was taking him to, his own hands went to the front of Q's uniform and opened it. The entity's eyes went wide and his breath caught as Picard roughly tugged at and parted the material, then reached down inside to find Q's own straining erection. Picard couldn't help his surprise at the incredible hardness there. Were Q really a man, that feeling would signify extremely urgent need. The tip had evidently been leaking fluid for some time, and his hand spread the warm lubrication easily.

"Oh!" Q puffed, his warm breath reaching Picard's face as his eyes closed at the touch of the hand against him. And now they were stroking each other, moving awkwardly around the heavy cloth, chests pressed against each other, hips bucking. Picard's eyes were tightly closed, and Q's eyes opened now to gaze into his face. When Picard convulsed, Q was right behind him, and for several long, gasping moments, they both lay in their own private daze.

Finally, with knowledge of what had just happened nudging its mocking way into his consciousness, Picard turned to look into Q's face, ready for whatever punishment the entity was going to administer for his weaknesses. But Q's eyes were closed and he seemed to want nothing more at the moment than to burrow into Jean-Luc's arms, having wrapped his own now tightly around the captain.

Picard couldn't help asking, "What's wrong?"

Q frowned, not opening his eyes. Picard waited patiently, surprised to find that his left hand had come up to stroke that dark hair.

"I didn't expect that. I didn't realize...how good that would feel. I didn't want it to end. I almost used my powers to prolong...I almost..." Q just breathed deeply for awhile, and Picard realized he was no longer reacting as if this were an elaborate act. He tried to get his suspicion back, but it was so hard to get a hold of while Q clung to him like this.

"Before, when I would think about you sometimes, I almost...did that to myself. I wanted to, but I could tell myself how silly it was and eventually I learned how to deal with it."

"Q, are you telling me, in all your time being Human, even with...with Vash, you never...?"

Q laughed a little bitterly. "She wanted to, in the beginning. Seemed to think it was odd that I didn't...but you were right. Human sexuality holds no intrinsic appeal for me." Finally, Q opened his eyes and Picard saw unmeasured depths and warmth in them that disturbed him more than anything which had yet happened that night. "Until I think of you, think of touching you. I used to laugh at Human genitalia, and how silly you ape-like creatures look naked, and then..." Q swallowed. "Then I thought of you without your uniform and suddenly it all didn't seem so funny anymore."

Q's voice grew quiet as his dark eyes suddenly seemed to notice that Picard's uniform was still open to the waist, his torn tank underneath revealing now the pale circle of his left nipple. His hand came up to touch that spot, gently, softly, and when Picard's breath caught in a slight gasp, Q smiled to himself like a contented Cheshire cat. In fact, as he felt his blood beat warmly through his body, Picard had a sudden vision of Q disappearing completely except for that smile.

"I've often seen a Q without a smile," Picard murmured, surprising the entity who had moved to trail his fingers over his chest, "but a smile without a Q?"

And Q seemed to understand him completely, chuckling before moving his head forward and taking Picard's nipple within that smile.

Picard had been about to say something about his age and Q's expectations, when he felt his blood begin to surge.

"If you're so inexperienced," he ground out, not certain he really wanted to do any more of this right now, "then why are you so good at this?"

Q's face rose up suddenly with an expression of wry delight. "Jean-Luc, why do you keep forgetting that I'm omnipotent? I'm good because I want to be."

Q couldn't have picked a worse thing to say if he had planned for an eternity. Shutters fell over Picard's eyes as his body stiffened and pulled away.

"Let me go, Q," the captain snarled when Q tried to hold on to him. Recoiling, the entity let go and Picard stood and stalked into his bedroom. Q went completely still as he heard the captain undressing and then the faint sounds of a shower.

Q realized he was a mess himself and cleaned himself off when...a thought occurred.

Moving quickly, almost as if he were trying to move before he thought better of his plan, Q headed for the bathroom.

Picard put his face into the spray and tried not to hate himself.

How could he have forgotten what Q was: an almost omnipotent being who evidently was feeling curious and perhaps a little bored? The captain sneered at himself. He'd thought he at least still had some control over himself, but a few days in Q's company and he was...ugh. He didn't want to think about what he and Q had been doing, or about what they had almost done again.

And then Picard heard the bathroom door open.

Unable to believe that even Q would have the effrontery, Jean-Luc spun around and watched through the frosted polymer of his shower door as a dark shape stood on the other side. Picard realized he was trembling. If Q opened that door and came in, it would be enough to make him despise the entity completely. He would be able to resist anything Q did after that. It would be proof that Q was everything he suspected. One simple action on Q's part, not really such a step after his previous antics, and Picard knew he would be safe behind his disgust forever.

But Q didn't open the door. The dark shape simply stood there.

"Jean-Luc?"

Picard didn't answer.

"Being able to do whatever one wants and being able to have whatever one wants are not the same. I want you, Jean-Luc, but I can't have you unless you agree. I thought it wouldn't matter why you agreed, or at least I was so crazy for you, am so crazy for you, I thought I could blur the difference just a bit.

"This isn't a game to me. Being able to wish myself into sexual skill isn't the same as being able to use it on the lover of my choice. I could fumble and ask questions if you like, but that would be the cheat, the lie. I want to be a good lover for you, Picard. I want to be the best you've ever had. I want you never to want anyone after me. I want to do things to you you've never thought of, so that you come back to me for more and more. I want you to take your disciplined belief that you should keep yourself from pleasure and toss it out an airlock. I want you to depend on me for pleasure, to turn to me to make you feel better than you ever have without me, so that you never, ever regret I'm in your bed every night.

"And that's where I'm going to be, Picard, every night. I don't care if it's not fair. I'll keep my hands off you if you keep saying no. Maybe after a few years I won't try to make love to you anymore. I don't think I can promise that, though.

"But I think you should realize what I'll never do, what I've never done. Perhaps it will only disgust you that I thought of doing them in the first place, but...I've never entered one of your dreams. I've never made a version of you I could control...or one I couldn't, for that matter. I've never made my dreams real even within my own mind. I've never made you forget something stupid or unpleasant that I did. I've never forced you or even planted suggestions in your mind. I haven't interfered with any of your relationships, except for Vash, and she wasn't exactly the love of your life, Jean-Luc."

"Q," Picard's voice was so quiet the shower nearly drowned it out.

"Mon Capitaine?"

Picard closed his eyes briefly, feeling his heart pound, before staring again at that dark shape beyond the door. The symbolism was killing him.

"Why didn't you do any of that?"

"Because it wouldn't have been any good."

Picard realized he was almost laughing, beginning to understand why Q had thought that bargain over the Romulan ship would work. From an omnipotent's point of view, perhaps it had seemed a fair approximation of simply playing a winning hand. "Why not?"

"Because none of it would be you, of course!"

"Q." Picard realized he was beginning to tremble again, but didn't mind it so much this time. "What is it that told you not to come into my shower to talk to me? Is it something you've observed about Humans and bathing?"

Picard's tone said plainly enough that this answer would be crucial, and Q seemed to think for some time before responding, carefully, "I don't need to walk in there to see you, Jean-Luc. And I can't pretend I don't know what you look like, because I wanted to know, but I haven't...looked at you, haven't watched you." One of Q's hands pressed against the polymer of the door and Picard felt sharp heat in the pit of his stomach. God, he did want Q. He was hard as a rock.

"The temptations the universe offers the omnipotent must be overwhelming indeed."

"Are you laughing at me, Picard?"

For an answer, and after an extremely deep and only marginally successful steadying breath, Jean-Luc reached out a hand and opened the shower door.

Q's startled gaze almost immediately dropped, hungrily taking in the sight of Picard's lightly soapy bare skin. His eyes lingered on that part of Picard's body which had responded so overtly to Q's long confession, before they returned their dark warmth to Picard's steady hazel gaze.

"You're absolutely exquisite, Jean-Luc. Do you know that?"

Trying to ignore his own deep blush, Picard let his eyes travel over Q's body, still in his opened Starfleet uniform. Q moved before he could look up again, and Picard was against the shower wall, his body pinned there with the urgent weight of Q's Human form, now in a quickly dampening uniform as his Starfleet boots slipped a bit on the shower floor. Picard tried to meet Q's eyes again, but then closed his own as the powerful wave of feeling from Q's kiss poured into him, weakening his knees and making him grateful for the solid wall behind him.

"Can I do this?" Q asked into his mouth as he ran his hands down from Picard's shoulders, along his sides and then down to his backside, then up to do it all over again.

"Yes." Jean-Luc was aware that the word was half-moan. Everything was making him feel all that much more overwhelmed. It was incredibly arousing to be here like this with Q.

"Good," Q said, moaning a bit himself. He pressed a little harder against the man's warm body and suddenly seemed to realize that Picard was pulling at his now-soaked clothing.

Instead of helping Picard undress him, however, he said simply, "You don't have to do that." And then Q was on his knees and taking Picard into his mouth with skill and precision and passion so great that Jean-Luc almost collapsed with the sensation. As it was, he put his hands out against the narrow walls to steady himself, wanting to tell Q to stop, to continue talking to him, but wanting more that Q would not stop. It was all the pleasure he'd ever felt from this form of sex and more, just as Q had promised, a combination of novelty and the suredness of someone who knew every particle of him. Q was doing everything he liked, stroking his hips and caressing his testicles, sucking hard and then gently, curling his tongue around him and stroking, even very lightly grazing his teeth over that taut skin before taking him in all the way, those full lips buried in his gray-black pubic hair as Picard fought down a new and different urge to scream.

Kneeling on a hard floor in a wet Starfleet uniform wasn't very comfortable, but Q didn't notice. He was dizzy with pleasure and triumph that Picard was allowing this. Moreover, he could feel the shudders and involuntary motions throughout the man's whole body focused on this one secret part of him to which Q now had access. Q hadn't been certain what this would be like, hadn't realized the taste and the smell and the feel of it all together would be so overwhelming. He felt more intimately connected than he had thought he would be as well, that sweet-salt in his mouth that was Picard, as were the low groans of that rich voice, all velvet and heat, and all the man who had become everything he wanted.

Picard felt his orgasm coming with sudden inexorability and threw himself into it, opening up to the wave of sensation, and thrusting his hips forward blindly, and then folding up all along his body as Q caught him and held him close, their legs tangled around each other's on the shower floor while the warm water continued to pour down.

Q waited until Picard had regained his full awareness, then murmured with concern, "Your blood sugar is low. You need to eat something."

Somewhere in his mind Picard was amused by that, and somewhere he was irritated, but primarily he was exhausted. Holding on to Q's body, he sighed and relaxed.

It was morning when he awoke.

His internal clock told him that it was just before his alarm would go off. He was in bed and in his pajamas. He felt clean and warm and deeply refreshed.

Q was holding him in his arms, and Q's breath was softly caressing his neck. In a rush, what had happened the night before was there in front of him, and he felt himself tense up in his shoulders and back even as he told himself not to.

However, Q did not react -- physically, at least.

"'Morning, darling," that warm voice said in his ear.

"Good morning, Q."

"You have an early meeting today, I think?"

"Yes."

"Your regular breakfast then, but no Beverly?"

"Yes."

"It's still three minutes before your alarm. May I kiss you until then?"

"I'd like to get up, actually."

"Give me a kiss on my forehead and I'll let you go."

"Q, I -- I need to think about this. About what's happened..."

"Do you know that you are incredibly arousing? Everything about you is perfect, your voice, your body, the way you move, the things you say."

"Q..."

"I can't believe how good this feels, holding you. I held you all night and I still don't feel like letting go. I know I'm going to hold you every night while you sleep, unless you say no, but that isn't long enough."

Picard really wanted to say something now. He just couldn't think of what it should be. Q's dreamy voice was getting more hypnotic with every word.

"I can feel your heart beating, your silly mechanical heart that I find just as irresistible as the rest of you, and I can hear your blood rushing in your body, and feel your warmth, and the air filling your lungs, and I just want more and more of you.

"The idea, the knowledge that if I touch you now your body will change for me is making me so excited I can hardly stand it. Supernovae have nothing on you, Picard."

"I need to get up, Q." Picard's strangled voice revealed him completely, but Q didn't laugh or taunt him. Instead, a note of wonder crept into his words.

"I'm making you excited, aren't I, just by talking to you? Your breathing is getting shallow and your heart is speeding up, just a bit."

"I need to get up -- Q!"

A hand had gone between his legs and was stroking firmly, and Picard felt the blood rush there as he let out a groan. It was somehow as if Q were training his body to respond to him. He hadn't gotten so instantly hard since he was in his early twenties. Within a moment he was fully aroused and straining while the entity watched, breathing as hard as he was.

"Jean-Luc," Q said gruffly as he continued to stroke, "do you think you'd ever like to be inside me?"

The images that came into Picard's mind at Q's words wrenched an orgasm from him as much as Q's hand did.

And then his alarm went off, followed by the ship's computer softly telling the captain to get up.

And then Picard was clean and dry and Q was gone.

"Damnit, Q! Come back here!"

But the entity did not return. Picard threw on his uniform, forced down breakfast, skipped lunch, spent the entire day being so perfect it made his teeth hurt, and then at the exact moment of the end of his shift marched into his quarters and was tackled again.

"Oh, I've missed you," Q groaned, rubbing and kissing and stroking.

Picard's body immediately responded. There was something irresistible and incredibly ego-boosting about having an omnipotent creature wait for him all day, jump on him like a family pet, and then know exactly how to touch him like a long-time lover. Picard himself, however, held back firmly.

"Q, we need to talk."

"Let me make you come once or twice first."

"Q! We have to talk!"

"Very well." Q stopped his movements, but continued holding down Picard's wrists as his body completely covered him. "Kiss me on the forehead and I'll let you go."

"What is this obsession with your forehead?"

"Those are my terms, Mon Capitaine," Q said with a campy leer.

"You're not going to turn into a frog or something?"

"More Picard wit! I'm in heaven!"

Feeling his erection starting to nudge against Q, Jean-Luc reached up quickly and kissed the entity's forehead. Instantly, Q let him go and then helped him to his feet.

"Dinner?" Q asked, snapping up a plate of Beef Wellington and salad, along with a glass of red wine. "We wouldn't want you falling asleep in the shower again."

Picard frowned, recognizing that the meal precisely fit his mood even as his chest tightened at the memory of being in Q's mouth. He looked at Q, then back at the table more than once before he sat down and began to eat. In truth, he was very hungry, and though he knew he and Q had to talk, he couldn't seem to arrange an actual opening line.

Q watched him eat in strangely companionable silence, then asked when he was almost finished, "Am I going to get to have you inside me tonight?"

Picard couldn't help it. "Q!"

"Don't pretend the idea doesn't appeal. This morning it made you come."

Picard stood up and away from the table and then walked to the window. Before the stars had a hope of calming him, however, Q was whispering in his ear once again. "I want you so badly I can't think of anything but how you would feel.

"You know," Q's tone had become oddly conversational, knocking the man even further off balance, "one of the things that's most ridiculous about Humanoid sexuality is that one of the partners must be in a submissive position? Most sentient lifeforms in the universe figure out something much more mutual in the course of their evolutions. But not Humanoids. Oh, no. They have to complicate matters by having to decide who gets to be on top."

"Q..."

"I think we should take turns, but I suppose I'll have to wait a while for mine."

"Q! Stop it! Damnit!"

"If I stop you'll just figure out some new way to say no."

"I'm not ready for this." Picard spun around, well aware that Q would probably try to start kissing him again, and crossed his arms like a shield. "Don't you understand? I don't trust you. I can't imagine trusting you that much."

"You've trusted me with more important things than your body, Jean-Luc...more important to you, anyway."

"It's not just...physicality we're talking about."

Q's eyes dropped and almost tangibly caressed the man's body, and his voice came out a little lower. "That's true. Are you waiting for me to tell you that I love you, Jean-Luc? I thought I made that clear already. You're shaking again."

"Give me a little distance, Q."

"I can't. Given your own propensities you'll hold me at arm's length forever, wanting guarantees when all I can offer you is devotion."

"Devotion? Is this your idea of being devoted to me?"

"No. This is my idea of pestering you into bed. The devotion comes later, and it's bad form to sneer at a god's devotion, you know."

"You're not a god."

"Haven't you ever read 'Leda and the Swan?'"

"That's hardly an attractive comparison."

"Well, perhaps it's just that nothing can hope to compare at all." Q reached out and stroked Picard's face, tenderly, slowly, and Jean-Luc argued with himself the whole time about moving away.

"I didn't molest you in the shower, you know. Not after you fell asleep. I just put you in your pajamas -- you are never to wear any other kind of sleepwear, you know -- and tucked you into bed. I didn't even stare at your naked body much."

The hand was continuing to caress him, and Picard began to wonder how much of this he was expected to take.

"I'm not ready," he said finally. "I'd like the evening to think. Could you just go away just for a few hours?"

The hand dropped to Q's side. "Kiss my forehead first."

Moving carefully, his eyes keeping close watch on Q's body, Picard stepped forward slightly and moved his head up to reach Q's brow. It was a bit of a stretch for him, he noted ruefully.

And once Picard was off-balance with his face pointed up, Q easily took him in his arms and brought his own mouth down for a kiss that went on and on, skillfully and passionately. Q once again drew out a deep, unthinking response that Picard was simply losing the ability to withstand. His arms went up around Q's shoulders and his body leaned into the warm acceptance of Q's embrace and his higher brain functions began to shut down. He could not remember wanting something this much for a long time, if ever, and he couldn't help feeling that this time, resistance really was futile.

So when he felt Q's hands moving over his backside, he chuckled rather than shouted, a noise he instantly regretted when Q picked him up.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, feeling horribly silly and fighting the urge to kick his legs.

In a few long strides, Q had arrived at the bed and set Picard down even as he joined him, covering the captain's body in what had become his trademark position. The man moaned softly at just the weight and heat of the entity on top of him.

"Please don't say no," Q murmured as his body began its rhythmic caress and his hands worked at removing both their uniforms. After wrestling off their tops and realizing how difficult it was to get at the rest without releasing Picard -- whose eyes had just begun to take on that dazed look Q recognized as his victory -- he muttered, "Sorry, my dearest," and snapped his fingers to remove the rest of the barriers between their bodies.

Now Picard was groaning with the sudden contact of that warm, smooth, soft skin against him. Q felt absolutely wonderful, and the things Q was doing to him felt even better. Nimble fingertips were finding all of his sensitive spots along his ribs and across his chest while the kisses became longer and deeper. Q's tongue was warm and the perfect combination of forceful and gentle. It wasn't just that Q was male-like that separated this experience from all others, or even that he was skillful. It was the reverence in his movements, the way he made Picard feel pampered, almost worshipped by the extraordinary care of his touch. The desire to refuse this pleasure was ebbing completely, and he wanted, profoundly, to relax and allow himself to be adored by Q's mouth and hands.

And then once again it wasn't enough. Picard wanted to touch Q as well, and brought his hands up from where they'd been clutching his bedspread to run lightly along Q's sides, smiling against warm lips as the body atop him shivered. He smoothed his hands now against his back, over his shoulders, and felt the responses deepen in intensity.

"I'm not omnipotent," Picard murmured as Q went over to nibble on his ear in just the right spot. "I need you to tell me what you want, what feels good."

Q actually laughed, a breathy sound that made his shivers increase slightly. "I don't think you could touch me without its feeling good...unless you're pushing away, and you're not going to, are you?" He began kissing Picard's jawline.

"I seem to be incapable at present."

And then Q stilled and pulled his head back to look into the man's eyes.

"You do want this, don't you? I'm not...doing something wrong?"

Picard found those questions difficult to process. He'd never had anyone do so many right things at once. "What?"

"I promised to respect your choices, and...well, you're not going to accuse me of breaking some new Human taboo in the morning, are you?"

If Picard weren't so completely aroused he would have collapsed in exasperation. "You want me to answer that now?"

"Well, you Humans have such odd ideas about --"

With a growl, Picard twisted for leverage and rolled them over so that Q was under him. While those brown eyes stared up at him in shock, he tried out his own kisses on those full lips, which immediately responded, as he trailed his fingers over Q's chest, seeking out his nipples and doing to them what he liked having done to his own, stroking and twirling and twisting gently, and was rewarded with Q's heavy groans into his mouth, more shivers, and an extremely urgent erection pressed into his thigh.

"Please," Q groaned. "Please do whatever you like with me. Anything you want."

But Picard had to admit he didn't know what he wanted. Q's body was wildly arousing, but confusingly so. He couldn't just shake off a lifetime of having made love strictly to women, and though he could think of one thing he knew at least theoretically how to do, he wasn't really sure he wanted to take Q in his mouth.

In fact, he wasn't sure he wanted to be here at all. Turning the tables on Q's aggressiveness had seemed like a fine idea at the time, but now the entity was moaning and growing harder under his touch and he didn't know what to do.

The dark brown eyes opened to look up at him, pleading.

"Don't you want to be inside me, Jean-Luc? I promise it will feel good."

Picard was certain it would, but he wasn't certain why. The thought of doing that to Q made his whole body react once again, surging blood to his erection, which was urgent enough already. The reaction confused him. He'd never even done that with a woman, never felt the urge strong enough to ask for it. Now, he didn't trust his own motives. It would be wrong, even if Q only meant a slight part of what he was saying, to do that to Q when he felt no more for the entity than curiosity and lust....and, he had to admit, some genuine affection. Could that be enough?

Oh, but he was lusting sorely after Q's body now, he reflected wryly as he bent his head to that warm, soft skin and traced a pattern of kisses on that chest and felt that body tremble and heard it moan.

What would it be like? But how could he be wondering that when this was Q he was talking about? And yet, if he said no Q would just keep pestering him. Perhaps this was the way to get rid of him. But that was not reason enough actually to have sex with him.

And so he pulled back and looked once more into that face, for the first time with true fondness, and whispered, "Q, I'm sorry, but..."

That was as far as he got before the body under his flashed. Before he could get angry that Q was just leaving him like this, he was looking down at a woman, a beautiful woman with Q's eyes, long brown hair, and icy pale breasts.

"What is this, Q?"

"I thought you might like this better," the woman's rather husky voice said.

Q's new body was certainly beautiful, but the man felt his arousal weakening. He was starting to be aware of his nudity most unpleasantly.

"Or this?" a slightly altered female voice asked from a Human female body that looked more like Q's usual form.

Picard sat up, his frustrated erection heavy and painful. "It makes no difference to you, then?"

Q sat up, a man again.

"It makes an enormous difference to me, Jean-Luc. This form," he waved at himself, "is more what I am than any other shape could be."

"What about your natural shape? Your real shape?"

Q frowned, trying to sit cross-legged and calmly discuss his lifeform while overtly aroused. "I can't appear that way outside the Continuum, and even then, it's not really just me. Alone, outside, this -- what you see -- this has become what I am. I've spent the equivalent of centuries in this form now, what with one thing and another."

"So it's not just some...affectation to you?"

"Mon Capitaine, what do you think I'm after? Do you think I have a friend waiting under the table to catch us in the act? I believe I'm going to be the one in the more compromised position."

"Don't, Q."

"Jean-Luc, I can see that you want me."

"But I don't love you, Q."

"I never asked you to! I wouldn't believe you if you claimed to!" Q closed his eyes with a shuddering breath, then opened them fiercely. "Tell me what to say or do to get you inside me. Name it. Anything."

Never before had the captain been more ashamed of his personal behavior. Making Q say that was worse than any womanizing he had done in his youth, any distance he had forced between himself and a friend, any cruelty he had done to end a relationship cleanly.

Looking at Q now, listening to that simple plea, he could admit only, "I'm not sure how this works."

Lights danced suddenly in Q's eyes, and Picard was aware of something twisting in his stomach. More lust, he supposed. He was trembling with it.

"I'll walk you through it," Q promised, practically beaming as something flashed into his hands. Picard realized what it was and flushed even as his body increased its burning ache and his erection returned to its earlier urgency. Q scooted closer to him on the bed, took a scoop of lubricant, set down the jar, warmed it between his hands, and then reached for Picard's penis. The man couldn't help closing his eyes as that oiled warmth prepared him, but he opened them quickly, wanting to see the expression on Q's face as he did this: solemn and focused while his large hands shook just slightly.

"Q." The entity didn't look up. "Q."

Q met his eyes, and Picard reached out for the back of his neck and drew him in for a long, deep kiss, trying to put into the physical connection whatever it was he was feeling and found so impossible to say. When it was over, Q sighed and turned and rolled over on his hands and knees.

"Take some of that on your finger and then put it inside me," Q urged softly.

His own hands were shaking, the captain saw, as he momentarily ignored Q's instructions and reached up a hand to run along Q's smooth side and then down his thigh -- deep shudders responded -- and then lightly over his buttocks. He dabbed Q's anus with a fingertip, and watched his body start almost violently.

Sensing Picard's hesitation but not its cause, Q whispered, "If you want to skip this part, you can."

"Won't it hurt you? Or are you going to use your powers?"

"If I wanted to use my powers I wouldn't be here in the first place. I'm omnipotent. If I want an orgasm I can just whip one -- Oh!" Picard's lubricated finger was inside him, and he couldn't believe the feeling. It hurt a bit, and there was faintly a feeling of indignity, but mostly there was just an urgent need for more.

"Is this all right?" that rich voice asked, concern evident, and Q began to relax, forcing his muscles to loosen. "You're so...I can't see how this won't hurt you."

Picard knew, of course, that some men had this sort of sex all the time, but it still seemed frightening and vastly unlikely.

"You feel good," Q gasped out, lowering his head and resting on his elbows. "Move your finger around, then add another when you can." Picard was reminded of Q's words about submissive positions and tried hard not to think about being in Q's courtroom or the eighteen people killed by their first encounter with the Borg. The trial was part of the Continuum's plan, and that meeting with the Borg had helped to save Humanity from being assimilated.

And yet this was the entity who had put him in that ridiculous Robin Hood outfit and kept showing up in his bed and...of course, that last had a different meaning from what it used to.

"Do you really want this, Q?" He felt the muscle loosening up now, and probed harder with his finger, wanting to be in that tight space rather fiercely. This was unbelievable! He was going to fuck Q! And somehow Q wanted it.

"Do you want me to beg? I will if you like."

"No." Frankly, listening to that sensual, tangible voice beg would pretty much undo him right now, and he had no idea what would happen then. Taking position behind his firm ass and feeling ever more dizzy with the thought of what he was going to do, Picard took more lubrication and pushed it inside Q with two fingers.

"Hurry," Q urged, spreading his knees and arching his back.

And Picard found himself in position and pushing forward and the pressure began to envelop him all the way along, all around --

"Oh, Dieu!" This was wonderful, tight and hot inside.

"Slowly," Q urged, that voice thick now with pain, hands gripping with white knuckles little fistfuls of the comforter.

Shot through with horror, Picard began to retreat, only to have Q protest as he leaned back: "No! I'm sorry. It doesn't hurt! Don't stop, please, don't --"

"Shhh, shhh," Picard soothed, just staying still now, about half-in, throbbing against that incredible warmth and tension. His hands went from gripping Q's hips to running light touches over his back and thighs. Acting on sheer instinct, he leaned down and kissed the pale, damp skin of Q's back, and felt the body shudder deeply and then jerk. With shock, he recognized the noises Q was making.

"Don't cry." Jean-Luc's voice was thick now as well. "Don't cry, Q...mon petit. Don't cry. Don't you want me to stop?"

"No." The dark head shook violently, giving him glimpses of a reddened face and bright flashes of tears. "Please, no. Don't stop."

"But I can't stand this. I can't hurt you like this."

"It won't hurt if you go slowly. It's not bad."

So Picard tried moving slowly, just a little in and out, and he felt, eventually, Q's body relax around him. He kept his motions as smooth as possible, wishing he had pushed in more lubricant and that this felt a little less wonderful. It was so hard to restrain himself. He realized he was biting his lower lip.

"Q, you've got to tell me if this hurts."

"Doesn't anymore. Please, just keep fucking me. Ohhhh, I need this so much. I've wanted you so much...for so long..."

And he had. All those empty centuries of wanting. Still, Q couldn't believe his own words, the pitiful and abject nature of his own requests, and it had hurt, terribly at first, but now it really wasn't hurting so much anymore, and something warm and tingling was moving through his Human body out from that heat in his ass. His muscles were relaxing more and more, and Picard's strokes were getting longer and deeper. And more than that, more exciting and incredible, this was Jean-Luc Picard, the man himself, not being forced, not really, choosing at least a little to be here with Q like this, sharing with him this extreme Human intimacy.

Q hoped Picard was enjoying this, only able to hope since he was keeping away from the captain's mind where he knew he was not wanted. He thought he must feel somewhat good, because Picard's breathing was audible and his hands were now firm on Q's hips, pulling him back, pulling them gently together in a pleasuring rhythm.

And then it really didn't hurt anymore. Instead, it felt so good Q could hardly stand it. His whole body was enjoying this, heat running all through him in tingling waves, and his erection was straining and pressing against his belly, and he could feel now the strength of Jean-Luc inside him. His legs were trembling and his muscles were burning and his whole smoldering body was erupting into slow flames. The pleasure of it was better than even he had dreamed it would be, and, suddenly, in the fog of his mind he had a vision of the rest of his existence: trying to get Picard to do this again.

"Yes. More. Please. More." He shouldn't sound so demanding, but he couldn't help it, and besides, Picard responded quickly, driving into him now with some force.

"Are you...sure this...isn't...hurting you?" the man asked from between his grinding teeth. It was so hard not to come, but he would no more climax before a male partner than he would a female one.

Q moved his body back in response, driving Picard in harder, and suddenly the angle and pressure were perfect. With a roaring groan and a deep convulsion that again felt even better than the entity had thought it might, Q came, spurting out all over the bedspread and massaging the cock inside him to force out the overwhelming release that Picard had been shoving away from himself for so long, battling the incredible pleasure of being inside Q with the concern he'd felt for hurting him. But concern and caution were blocked out in a hot rush, and he thrust hard as he came inside Q, shaking through the aftershocks, falling onto his partner's back and feeling him collapse onto the bed.

As soon as he came back to himself, Picard felt anger at his own selfishness, and moved to get off the gasping, flushed body below him.

"No," Q's quiet voice said between heavy breaths. "Don't move yet, please. You feel wonderful."

Not knowing what else to do, Picard turned his head and kissed the slick back beneath him. Q shivered.

"Why did you say you wouldn't believe me if I said I cared for you?"

"I believe the word I used was 'love.' If you want to tell me that you like me a little right now I could believe you. Humans do get attached to their sexual partners."

"Q, I don't care how long you pestered me. You wouldn't have become my sexual partner if I didn't care about you."

Q chuckled, but the tone was unpleasant. "Strong words from a man I had to carry into bed."

"I -- I want to look at you properly. I'm going to get off you now." Q lay still, sighing quietly, while Picard eased out and away from him.

"Q." Picard's voice was hoarse with shock. "What...there's blood. Is this your blood?"

"It's just Human blood. It doesn't mean anything. The tissue tears a bit. When I'm feeling a bit more capable I'll heal myself up."

With a growl, Picard grabbed Q's right shoulder and turned him over. The body under his hands felt boneless, and the eyes he glared into seemed to look back without resistance. And yet when they read the concern on Picard's face, they began to sparkle.

"You do care about me, Mon Capitaine." It was somehow a cross between a question and an exaltation.

For an answer, Jean-Luc leaned down and kissed him, softly. "Can you heal yourself yet?"

Q lazily raised a hand and snapped it, producing little noise. Instantly, Picard felt the cleanness of his body and the sheets and the skin under his touch. But Q -- who had done nothing to diminish the soreness inside where Picard had been -- was shivering now, just slightly, and the captain rose from the bed to fetch the thick blanket he had stored in his closet. Returning with it, feeling those dark eyes on him, he wrapped them both up warmly.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, Mon Capitaine?"

"You know for what."

Q was quiet a moment. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

Picard's whole body unanimously rejected the idea of going through what Q had. "What do you mean?"

Carefully, slowly, Q reached over and took Picard's left hand, currently resting on the captain's hip, and brought it over his own chest so that they were snuggled against each other, and seemed to fall instantly asleep.

hen the alarm went off, Picard's first sensation was amazement that he had slept. But confusion and self-doubts were no match for the exhaustion in his body and the insistent soothing of Q's breaths.

"'Morning darling," the entity in his arms said seriously before leaning over for a brief kiss. "Another early meeting?"

"Yes." He knew that Q knew he was scheduling these meetings so early on purpose. "Q...I'd like to have my bedroom to myself this morning."

"Well," the dark eyes and sensual mouth pouted, and Picard was amazed to feel warm at the sight. "You know the price."

Keeping things light with an effort, Picard kissed Q on the forehead and then watched him flash out. Alone, he sat crossed-legged on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

He couldn't believe what he'd done the night before. Q's tears and the blood and the obvious pain had all hurt the man worse than if he had been the one bleeding and bent over. It all made him feel like a monster.

Because he had enjoyed it: not the pain, not seeing Q hurt, but being inside Q, watching and feeling him writhe in pleasure, watching and feeling him come.

And the simple sensation, the tight heat around his cock, the soft firmness of Q's skin over muscles that boasted more physical strength than he'd expected, that voice making sounds of pleasure. He was getting aroused just thinking about it.

But he could never hurt Q like that again.

But Q was probably going to ask him to, was probably going to insist, and Picard acknowledged ruefully that he was probably not going to be able to resist Q any better tonight than he had last night.

Did Q really care for him? He seemed troubled by more things than their relationship. Perhaps this was all just a diversion for him, a novel sensation to fill up his life of preurile entertainments.

But..."Ohhhh, I need this so much. I've wanted you so much...for so long." Q's words had seemed so desperate, so heart-felt. The need in his voice had seemed to control Picard's every motion. All he had wanted in that moment was to comfort that desperate voice, fill that need.

He wondered if Q had manipulated that. The entity claimed he wasn't forcing Picard, but was he beyond nudging him a bit?

Well, Picard couldn't help thinking that if Q had been using his powers at all, the first thing he would have done was protect himself from injury.

Injury Picard had done to him out of sheer ignorance.

Well, he was not a starship captain for nothing. A plan formed quickly in his mind, and with a nod he got out of bed, showered, dressed, ate, and spent another day being Captain Perfect, forcing his attention on an endless series of details.

He found he was more comfortable with details than he had been before, back when the big picture overwhelmed him less. He tried not to think of that "other" Picard, the one Q had let him become for those few ghastly hours on the Enterprise as a lieutenant in astrophysics. There was a man of little details who couldn't see the big picture. Was he going to become that after all? What was missing? What had he lost so completely he couldn't know what it was anymore to bring it back?

And so it was a relief to set his command aside at his lunchbreak, which lasted rather longer than usual between a statis meeting with his chief petty officers and an inspection of the new torpedo launch system.

Alone, he called up detailed medical files on Human male anatomy and sexuality. As with all Starfleet records, they were helpfully cross-referenced to accommodate a variety of interests and purposes. Systematically, he went through several instruction manuals and a few short, fictional pieces which contained graphic but not lurid descriptions of various positions, acts of stimulation (some of which he could see himself doing and some of which he could not), and procedures designed to aid safety and comfort.

He found he was rather amazed at the complexity of it, then reminded himself that heterosexual coupling was not without its complexities as well. He had simply begun studying them at a younger age.

And he was comforted with the knowledge that much of what he had learned about pleasuring women was still in effect here: patience, self-control, consideration, the need to combine affectionate touching with sexual. It was really just a difference in equipment.

Picard smiled wryly at his own thoughts, then turned off his monitor, got another cup of tea, and realized that all his reading and conceptualizing had done nothing to stimulate his body. Like Q, who claimed that Human sexuality held no intrinsic appeal, homosexuality seemed to hold little intrinsic appeal for the captain. It was only the partner...

Picard sighed and shoved his thoughts away. It was time for that inspection, and too soon for him to analyze his feelings for Q in detail. Worrying over it too much right now would only make the night harder to get through. It was enough to know that he was feeling for the entity, that he did care for him, that he did want him.

And so that evening, as he headed for his quarters after a quick sandwich in his ready room, he couldn't help becoming more than half-convinced that Q would not be there. Now that the creature had completely disrupted Picard's world and routine and peace of mind, he would probably be on his way with a laugh at the Human's credulity. Perhaps he had a friend waiting under the table to pop out and mock him after all. Keeping his expression blank, Picard walked through the door to his room.

"Ooomph!"

"Oh, I've missed you, Mon Capitaine."

"Q, I'm really not interested in becoming this familiar with my floor."

"A good captain loves his ship!"

Picard's rejoinder was delayed by the lips against his and the skillful tongue in his mouth. It was very nice indeed to enjoy that skill, this warmth and pleasure, without the morass of confusion it had made him feel before. It was liberating to respond freely to that kiss, and he ran his own tongue over and around Q's, then reached into his mouth to brush the roof as his lips pressed urgently back.

And when they broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes, Picard saw dark desire there and knew Q could see the same in his own.

"No forcing the issue tonight?" Q asked, his hoarse tone belying the lightness of the phrase.

For an answer, Picard reached up a hand around Q's neck and brought him in for another long, sweet kiss, then rolled them both over, kissed him again, and then got off him and stood up. Bending down, he helped Q to his feet, then walked backwards, leading him into the bedroom. Q followed with an almost child-like expression of wonder which did not fade but simply merged into bliss as Picard gently removed his clothing, kneeling down to take off his boots one by one, then his socks, then, standing, Q's jacket and undershirt, his pants and his underwear. He stopped each time to stroke the skin he exposed with faint, warm touches, trailing patterns over his chest, legs, stomach, thighs, buttocks, and now rather prominent erection.

"Jean-Luc..." the entity breathed, remaining passive with evident effort.

Smiling faintly, Picard guided Q to the bed and had him sit, then efficiently removed his own uniform and joined him, lying down with him, kissing him and touching him with increasing ardor.

And now that this was no longer such a mystery, Picard found that it was fun to kiss Q's nipples and feel them harden, to suck on them gently and feel Q arch into it, again and again whispering his name.

"Q," he began to say back, though it was odd to speak the name -- and an odd name to speak -- with passion. He explored that smooth, soft, firm skin, leaving the groin alone for now but touching his stomach with teasing caresses that made Q squirm and reveal several sensitive spots. Q's neck was more than a little sensitive to his kisses as well, and there was a spot under his collarbone that made the whole body jerk and Q hiss loudly.

"You're wonderfully responsive," Picard murmured, making Q close his eyes merely at the rumbling baritone. "It's incredibly arousing."

"Can I touch you back now?"

"Well," Picard said as he moved up to begin exploring Q's left ear and find three more extremely erogenous zones, "I was rather hoping you'd enjoy having me concentrate on your pleasure, but you should feel free to respond however you wish, of course."

Q's hands, thrown out by his long arms, clenched and unclenched several times before he suddenly relaxed, breathing deeply with the building enjoyment of each touch. Picard finished charting one ear, kissed a pattern around his neck to the other and began the process again.

"Did you...take a seminar on this...today, or something?"

"Just a little light reading."

Q half-sobbed at that, and Picard pulled back to look at him. Q shook his head, then smiled shyly. "I studied rather a lot about you as well."

Picard kissed him. "So I gathered."

"Will you...can I have you inside me now?"

"Is that what you want?" Lightly, he trailed his fingers over Q's straining erection, feeling the moisture leaking from its tip.

"Aaaahh. More than...anything."

Picard smiled tenderly and kissed his shoulder, then let Q roll over on his stomach as a jar of lubricant appeared near the captain's hand. Methodically, still searching out sensitive places, he kissed Q's back in lazy patterns, from the shoulders, along the spine, down to that curve, then, gently, over his smooth ass, stroking now Q's thighs with his fingertips.

"Oh, Jean-Luc..."

Pausing in his touches as little as possible, he got the jar and lubricated his hands thoroughly before moving towards the cleft. As he twirled a pattern around that puckered opening, Q began to push himself into the bedclothes and whimper, spreading his legs and arching back.

"No, here," Picard said, moving up and rolling Q over on his side. Q took a second to understand what Picard wanted, then arched again, his breath coming in jerks as Picard's lubricated fingers worked gently but firmly inside his anus. Finally, the fingers were removed and Q felt the wet tip of the man's erection nudge him.

"Hurry..."

"Shhh..."

Picard reached around with his hand and stroked that long, hard shaft as he eased his way inside.

"Oh. Oh yes. Oh, that feels so perfect."

"You must tell me if I'm hurting you." The deep voice was a little ragged now. Being inside Q was even better than he remembered, especially now that he was not being stabbed with guilt. Along with the pressure and heat, it seemed he could feel Q's own pleasure in this, in each motion and sound. Gently, slowly, he began to thrust in and out, going deeper each time until he was fully inside. Then he rested a moment, so closely connected to the entity in his bed, in his life, if only for a while. Q shuddered. "Are you all right? How does this feel?"

Q's laugh was breathless. "Filled. I'm full of you. All filled up with Jean-Luc Picard."

"I feel rather taken over by you as well."

"Do I...feel good?"

"You're wonderful." He kissed a pattern on Q's raised shoulder. "You feel wonderful." Unable to resist any longer, he began to thrust again, driven almost immediately into a quick rhythm by Q's sighs and shudders and moans. Q put a hand flat on the bed for leverage and pushed back to meet him, and soon Picard wasn't thinking about medical books or safety procedures, but just this incredible feeling of pumping that warmth and firm tension. It was so tight, so erotic, so much pleasure and strength and heat that he had to use all his will not to climax.

Q couldn't believe this, couldn't believe how good this felt, and yet how painful it had become.

It was not physically painful. Picard's ministrations had fully prepared him this time, and the captain couldn't have been more gentle. Physically, in fact, there was nothing but pleasure. His body was warm with it, weak and thrilled and laid open to a dance of sensation on each nerve end.

The pain was in the wanting, and it cut deeply inside. He wanted to scream that he loved. He wanted to hear that he was loved.

But Picard didn't love him, and never would, and certainly didn't want to be subjected right now to Q's abject adoration. He found he was again struggling with tears, able to keep them back only because he knew that Jean-Luc would misinterpret them and stop that incredible stroking, that wonderful thrusting which filled him so completely and yet left him so aching and empty.

He tried simply to enjoy what he had, to concentrate on Picard's cock, on the hands which held his body in place, on the ragged breathing of the man who had this time so willingly if somewhat impersonally taken him to bed. He concentrated on the knowledge that Jean-Luc had learned what to do to keep from hurting him again, staying away from his powers as he mentally conjured up the image of Picard studying as though for some academy exam. It was only, of course, because the captain knew that he wasn't going to take no for an answer and that Picard wasn't able to hurt others without causing pain to himself, but it was still something, and Q clutched it frantically as his whole body burned with those controlled, even, powerful thrusts that sparked such an exquisite burn.

When Q began to sound frantic, again the man reached around and stroked Q with his hand, adding more pressure there, keeping the pumping in synch with his thrusts.

"Jean-Luc!" Q wailed before coming in that hand, again triggering Picard's climax with his spasming muscles. Deeply he poured himself into Q's body, crying out himself with the strength of feelings which broke and crashed and exploded through him. Picard couldn't remember if anything had ever felt so good, and he thought -- when he could think again -- that he would soon grow addicted to this.

But he pushed the thought away. He could not rely on Q, could not plan a future which required his trustworthiness. He only knew he had this moment with him. It wasn't, perhaps, all that he wanted, but it was good and he didn't want it to end.

He pulled out of Q carefully, and was pleased to see no blood this time.

Oozing lethargy, Q turned to face him.

"For a Human, you are amazing."

Picard frowned at Q's obvious pretense of arrogance, his lips curling in a playful sneer while his wild eyes shined a little over-bright. Then Q was kissing him, that long, slow, deep, skillful kiss that made the man wrap arms and legs around the entity and fight to keep from moaning for more. This went on for several long minutes, before, abruptly, they were clean again, and Q left his lips to trail kisses down his neck, across his chest, down his stomach.

"Q," Picard grunted, not sure he wanted this. In another second, however, he was certain enough. Every touch was perfect, designed to bring him to the absolute limit of pleasure before he broke out and away, sliding into sensations while he cried out and thrust forward into that warm mouth, coming and coming and feeling Q swallow.

hat did you mean about lack of choices?"

"It's something of a long story."

Amusement filled the room's flickering starlight: "I'm not going anywhere, Q."

The entity sighed, shifted position slightly to hold Picard more comfortably and began, hesitantly: "You've had some experience with alternate universes."

"Some."

"Did you ever wonder about them and the Q?"

Picard thought a long moment. "You mean, the Q traveling between them?"

"But that's just it. We don't. Or at least, we're not supposed to." Q sighed again. "Each universe has its own Continuum, and the Q...respect each other's boundaries. You understand the chaos that would be caused if we all started popping into each other's alternate realities, trying to get for ourselves whatever their alternate Q managed to acquire, or to rid themselves of something another Q shed. We are aware of each other, but we don't communicate, and we never, ever, trespass."

"Are you going to tell me that you did?"

"You know me so well." The levity didn't work. Q's shame was obvious.

"And the Continuum punished you?"

"No. They were going to exile me again, but when I told them...what I found, they only pitied me. It's a horrible thing to be pitied by the Continuum. Even the one you knew as Amanda felt bad for me. Of course, they knew enough to be grateful as well, but...it was really quite humiliating."

Picard's arms tightened around Q without his awareness. "What happened?"

"It's so hard to make clear. So hard to...You understand that the universes split along alternative events?"

"Yes. In one universe I turn right, and in the other left, and that point of divergence defines the different realities. And so for each choice there are infinite possibilities to be realized, and thus infinite alternative universes."

"Hmm, well, yes and no. There are infinite universes, and even infinite universes inside other universes, but there isn't a universe for every single possibility, every single variation of choice. There are some combinations which do not occur -- an infinite upon infinite number of them, in fact, and these lacking combinations...balance those which do exist. And don't ask me how or what the pattern is, because, since it's not part of any one universe, it's beyond even the Q's knowledge. Yet another reason why we do not cross the boundaries of alternative realities."

"But you did."

"Yes." Q sighed once again. "I did. I...couldn't help it. I couldn't stand being so...vital and not knowing why -- or, at least, how."

"You'll have to explain that one, Q."

The entity breathed quietly for a time. "I meant what I said, about seeing you on the bridge and knowing what you meant to me, what you would mean. But what happened to me, that moment, it wasn't something that's supposed to happen to the Q. I felt it, and all of my brothers and sisters felt it: a sort of breach, a connection throughout the universal fabric.

"You see, the universes are in chaos, and yet that chaos is held to certain sorts of patterns...so hard to make it clear. Certain variances are permitted and some are stopped by having constants. The elements, for example, all exist in all the universes, though they sometimes react and interact differently. And in all the universes there is an Earth, though there are not always Humans, and sometimes the Earth is destroyed, and sometimes it lasts, preserved by artificial means and otherwise, until the end of time.

"These constants are absolutely required. They arrange certain key elements in history, in evolution, in whatever they feel like -- and no, I don't mean I know they're sentient in and of themselves. I don't know where they come from. None of the Q do, and it...bothers us terribly. We don't usually speak of it."

"So you're saying that you are involved somehow in one of these constants?"

Q hesitated somewhat longer this time. "We both are. You and I, Picard. In every universe, you and I meet and become important to each other. As lovers or friends, we have interactions shape things, change things, align things."

"But you said in some universes there aren't even Humans!" Picard barked.

"That's right, so the Picard in those universes isn't Human. Sometimes he's Klingon or Romulan or Dicsh'kat." A smile played with his lips a moment before resuming a solemn line. "And sometimes I'm not even Q. There's one universe I found where we are both Human, and another, naturally, where we are both Q."

"One you found?"

Q sighed without theatrics. "Yes. You see, after I felt that importance of the moment, after the trial, that is, when you had proven your point...I did something the Q don't make a habit of: I projected into the future. I took all that I knew and I figured out what would happen to us. And it made so little sense...I tried to analyze it, understand it, but the Continuum made me work on Riker, and then I had to go through all that exile and Humanity business, and then there were other distractions, and then...finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"When my side won the civil war, and I realized having a child wasn't the answer and told Kath and Q never mind, I was going to come back here and just try to hash things out with you, but then you were grappling with the Borg again and you weren't getting over it this time and I had to leave you alone and I just decided to go...see...what was going on."

Q's voice had dwindled to a murmur now.

"You traveled between universes and found out that we are...destined to be together?" Picard tried to lace his voice with suspicion, tried not to feel awe that this might actually be true, tried not to feel the inevitable allure of having such an important, such a destined connection to Q.

Because he didn't love Q, did he? And Q couldn't love him.

And as if Picard had spoken aloud, Q sighed. "No. That's just it. The reason that I felt that connection on your bridge is that this universe is an anomaly. They happen, often, actually, though it's rare enough...if you see. 'Rare' when you're dealing with infinity can still mean 'often.'"

"I think I do see, Q."

"Well, anomalous universes pop up every now and then, and if they're too unstable they get...hmmm...absorbed, destroyed, what have you."

"Unstable? From not having the constants?"

"You are listening." Q smiled and leaned over to brush a kiss across his lips.

Picard smiled back but didn't let his protesting body respond. "Are you trying to tell me that you and I weren't supposed to end up like this after all?"

"No. That's just it. We were supposed to, we just weren't going to. I fell in love with you right on schedule, but one thing I learned from my projection was that you were never going to forgive me for the Borg, for introducing them to you, for cursing you forever with their connection to you."

Q hesitated again, then pushed on: "And so I went looking for answers. I traveled believing...I don't know...that I must have been some sort of Q changeling child, swapped at birth with another Q who was living my life, and loving my Jean-Luc Picard. I tried to find that impostor Q and make him come back here and be the Q I was supposed to be, the one who didn't love you, but could somehow be your friend anyway. Some Q who could interact with you and do the things you and I are supposed to see done here.

"But eventually I had to realize that I am the imposture Q. I am the one who almost forced his way into a reality that wasn't his own. You'll never love me, Jean-Luc, but you are my Jean-Luc. And so I came back and there you were, about to die in that Romulan tin can, and instead of just saving you from the explosion and taunting you a bit like I was going to," the little smile reappeared momentarily, "I made that bargain with you. I went to the Continuum then -- didn't you wonder where I was? You didn't ask. And they decided there was no point in punishing me, especially since I told them I'd be with you from now on.

"And now I'm trying my best to live by our agreement. I want you to know, I'll always try my best with you. It means more than you can realize to me that we have important things to do together, things of consequence, though I'm not sure what they are. They change, of course. The events aren't constant, only us."

"So by being together we'll save the universe from being so anomalous it gets destroyed?"

"Put simply."

"Are you serious, Q?"

"Of course I am. I told you about lack of choices." Q rolled over to rest on his elbows then. "Enough, please, for tonight, Jean-Luc." He kissed Picard then, deeply, searching for the response the man could not deny him. Picard wanted to object, wanted to ask a hundred questions, but it was too hard to insist with Q's kisses on his lips.

And then Q moved down slowly into his now familiar pattern, bringing Picard to complete bliss with just his mouth and hands, until he came and then slid without resistance into darkness, comforted by that warm body that now began those steady breaths. There was always tomorrow night.

esistance is futile, Number One."

They had taken all he had, and given him power beyond his desires.

He knew one purpose. It filled him while it directed and used him. He saw the extensions of himself: black hardware that was now "him" as much as the flesh he was born with.

Silently, unheard, he was screaming.

And someone was kissing his ass.

." The voice was angry and hard.

The entity stopped half-way through a small pattern of kisses. This hadn't been a good idea. "Bad dreams?"

"What do you know about it?"

"Only that you were restless." Q's body heat lessened and Picard heard the sheets rustle as his bed partner moved back. "I wanted to make you feel better."

Rage battled within him, the need to speak growing. He held it back automatically, ruthlessly, wanting, needing Q to say something wrong.

With a quiet sigh, Q caressed his hip. "Was your dream about us?"

"I was Locutus again."

Q said nothing, and Picard turned around and sat up to look at him in the starlit room. For a time neither of them spoke.

"I am always Locutus. In every nightmare. I'm there again, taken over, invaded, raped and stripped and lost to myself. I see the Enterprise getting ready to ram the cube, the Starfleet ships torn apart by the fire that I directed. The assimilation of Earth seems to me inevitable and correct.

"And I never dream the good part, being rescued, getting back on the ship, stopping them. It's always being assimilated, feeling that I would never be free, and blaming..."

"Blaming me for it?" Q shrugged across the gap in the bed. "You should. The Borg were headed Earth's way already, Jean-Luc, but they wouldn't have made you Locutus without my interference."

"You told me once that I wasn't that important. Did you mean that it didn't matter, it didn't make a difference that --"

"Don't hold what I said at Starbase Earhart up to the light, Jean-Luc. Locutus and the Enterprise saved the Earth. Don't think for a moment that's not true. I can't pretend that's why I introduced you to them, but --"

"But you knew they were coming."

Q looked at him oddly, closed off. "Yes."

Picard tried to figure out how he felt about that, and couldn't. Ever since Locutus he'd had this small numb place inside, and since the Borg's second attack that place had grown. In fact, he hadn't felt much at all since returning to the 24th century. There had been some pleasure in reporting to Starfleet Command. Or at least, some satisfaction. Then...nothing. Just the details of getting on with his life.

But it was the Borg who had done that to him, not Q. It was a price Picard had paid to help save his homeworld, but it hadn't been Q's price.

Q's price for saving his ship had been his body...or at least, the opportunity to...what could he call what they had been doing? It somehow wasn't just sex even though it certainly wasn't love. It was too emotional for the first and too...

Emotional. The word stuck in Picard's mind. He'd been feeling emotions these past few days, more than in all the long weeks since the Borg, and it was because of this creature in his bed. Not all of the feelings had been welcome or pleasant, but they were strong and certain, the emotions of a living Human being.

Q watched the man's eyes change without understanding what it meant. It was something he was getting used to, now that he was keeping away from Picard's mind. But he hoped it meant he had an opportunity.

"Tell me what you want, Jean-Luc." Q watched the man try to speak, watched the captain keep himself from speaking. "I'll give you anything you want. And I can, too." Q's smile went unanswered, but he thought perhaps he recognized the tension in the man's body after all. It surprised him, offered him something, the way Picard always managed to do. Slowly, gently, Q reached over and ran his fingers lightly over the man's face. Picard did not pull away.

In one motion, Q slid over to him and brought his left arm around his shoulders, pressing him in close without entrapping him. Ducking his head, he lowered his lips to his neck and sucked firmly at just the right spot, smiling to himself when Picard actually moaned aloud.

And before the noise had ended it was forming a word: "Yes."

I can do this for him, Q thought, running his fingers over Picard's shoulders, down his back, around his sides, as he kissed and nibbled along his neck and then along the curve of his jaw. He slid the silk back from his shoulders, admiring the man's arms, then gently pressed him back against the bed, covering him with his own now naked form.

"You're so small," Q whispered as he continued to touch Picard with his hands and lips. "So compact. So enclosed by this mortal shell. It's not how I think of you at all. You're power and light to me, and yet I can hold you between my hands." The wonder in Q's voice was growing as he raised up his head to look down at the body beneath him. Picard's eyes glittered as he lay still, soaking in deep breaths and letting them out with caution.

"I can't believe I can touch you like this. I can't believe you're so...accessible. This Human body of yours, I can make you feel so good through it, when you let me." He paused to savor the shiver under his hands. "This skin of yours, amazing. I don't like touching my own skin much. It makes me feel pointless, but I can't touch yours enough."

Demonstrating both his words and the feelings behind them, Q was kissing and stroking patterns all over the muscled chest which rose and fell with those deep, shuddering breaths. His fingertips and lips seemed to be competing with each other to see which could touch him most gently, surging heat through Picard's body as they traced his nerves with quickfire, stimulating him into groans. Never had someone brought him so quickly and deeply into pleasure. Dimly, he recalled Q's wish to have him lose the desire for another in his bed, and he was beginning to believe it would happen. Q's hands had reached his hips now, trailing that maddening touch. He was nibbling lightly down along Picard's lower stomach, his chin brushing his pubic hair, and Picard felt his body strain for the touch.

And then Q made to turn him over.

Picard's eyes flew open and his body tensed. He opened his mouth to say no.

"Shh," Q soothed, not stopping the gentle touches. "Can't you trust me even a little? I'm not going to fuck you. I won't ever do that until you ask me to."

"What if..." Picard winced at his own selfishness, but this, of all times, was a time to be honest. "What if I never ask?"

"Never is a long time."

"Q..."

"I said I won't put myself inside you until you ask for it, Jean-Luc. Now trust me and turn over. I promise you're going to like it."

Going to like what? Picard wondered suspiciously as he slowly complied. Once again he was awash in disbelief that this was happening. Q, the last person he could trust, was in his bed, naked, as naked as he was, touching him, dropping feather-light kisses along his buttocks, gently spreading his legs and moving towards his center. Picard tried to relax, tried to remind himself that he could rely on Q not to ruin everything the entity had worked so hard to establish at this point. If he wanted to deceive him or force him, he could have --

"Oh!" Oh, God. Q was kissing him there. He'd read about this (and wrinkled his nose a bit), but it was unlike anything he --

"Oh!" Oh, this was incredible, and though he couldn't relax completely to enjoy it the overwhelmingly sensual, sexual nature of this was unbelievable. He had no idea he was so sensitive there, not to this, not like this. Q had known. The realization disturbed him even as his cock pressed painfully into the bedclothes.

"Relax," Q's voice urged him as he paused a moment, running hands over his legs and then up over his back before tracing patterns on his buttocks. "Please trust me just this much. Relax."

I can't. He wanted to, but... "How can this be any good for you?" His words were muffled by the pillow, and unsteady from the continued touches from Q's hands. Yet as excited as he was he felt filled with dread. "How can you get anything from doing...that?"

"You're going to come with my tongue inside you." He paused and shivered as Picard groaned, his hips grinding down harder on the bed. "Don't you realize what you look like to me?"

"An aging man on his stomach. Borg left-overs with an erection."

Q listened to the anguish in those words and felt as desperate as when he'd first realized Picard would never love him. More desperate, even. Only Picard could be here with Q like this and still seem surrounded by guards and buried under shields.

"You're Jean-Luc Picard," Q whispered. "You're the most incredible creation I've found in five billion years of searching, and if you will only say yes I will belong to you. We could even belong to each other."

"Nothing about how I'll destroy the universe if I don't say yes?"

"I didn't tell you about my misdeeds to blackmail you."

Picard rolled over onto his back at that, clearly revealing, to Q's concern, that his erection had lost some of its strength. "You were blackmailing me with my ship!"

"But..." Q looked away, and it seemed to Picard that he could feel how difficult to was for him to continue. He was reminded suddenly of a difficult journey across Kes-Prytt with Beverly at his side. "I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have let you die or the Enterprise be destroyed. Did you really think I would?"

The man was amazed at Q's tone, the hurt there so much in evidence.

Because of that tone, he forced himself to answer. "No. I didn't. It was that...I couldn't say no. I couldn't give you that over me, allow you to say to me that I hadn't been willing to save them, even though I didn't think you would let us die."

Q nodded solemnly. "I thought as much." He reached out to trail a gentle touch along Picard's almost forgotten erection, and the man shuddered. He wanted release, but he didn't want to roll over again.

Q must have sensed this, for soon he was moving his head down. Even though Picard's body yearned for the pleasure he knew Q could give him, he grated out, "No, Q."

The dark eyes looked at him, anxiety clear.

"No, this isn't fair to you."

Q laughed, and the sound was harsh enough actually to hurt Picard's ears.

"You're telling me not to touch you to be fair to me?"

For an answer, Picard sat up and pushed Q back on the bed, trying to be as gentle as Q had been, and then sat there a moment, just looking at Q lying there. Q kept still with effort, able to endure this only because Picard smiled faintly at him. Finally, the man took Q's right hand in his left and carefully placed it on the entity's chest, next to his right. Slowly, he stroked Q's chest both with his hand and with Q's own.

"How can you dislike touching yourself? You feel quite lovely." Q groaned. "Firm muscles and soft skin, so warm and responsive. Can't you feel it?"

Q managed to get out, "A rock would...respond to you."

Picard smiled more deeply this time, holding Q's gaze as he bent down to brush his lips over his chest, before settling onto his left nipple and closing his eyes as he began to suck gently.

Q's whimpers had him hard as ever, he noticed. With his fingertips, he played with the other nipple a while, then switched over, his heart thudding a bit -- but his erection not diminishing -- at the thought of what he was going to try to do. Eventually, he kissed a line down from Q's chest over his stomach, increasing Q's groans. But once he was actually repositioning himself on the bed, Q seemed to snap out of it.

"You don't have to do that."

"Shhhh." Picard let his breath stir the dark hair around the flushed and pulsing erection, smelling Q strongly now as he moved down a bit farther and kissed the wet tip. Q gasped and jerked, and Picard suddenly felt his lack of confidence dissipate. There was really little question that Q wouldn't at least appreciate the thought.

He covered the velvet head in kisses, then opened wide, instructing himself to keep his lips over his teeth as he used his tongue as a guide. The taste was strong, salty and yet a little bitter-sweet. It was actually sort of delicious, and listening to Q moan and gasp as he writhed about was downright intoxicating. This was nothing like stroking Q with his hand, nothing like being inside Q, nothing like going down on women. He felt he controlled Q this way, and the trust that the entity was showing him would have overwhelmed him, if he couldn't remind himself that he had let Q do this to him more than once.

And thinking about just how good this felt when Q did it to him spurred Picard on to greater efforts. He cupped Q's testicles and tried to work his tongue around the warm, pulsing rod. He was beginning to get more comfortable, though his jaw was aching just a bit and he found it hard not to gag. Fortunately, Q seemed to like everything he did, so he could stop sucking periodically to lick along the sides and kiss the tip again and again.

Q was trying hard to hold himself still. He couldn't thrust into that warm mouth, couldn't grab the man's head to push him down. But more than that, he couldn't buck or kick, or do anything that might make Picard stop. He'd given up on the idea that Picard would ever do this, and now the pleasure was overwhelming. There was power in this, selfishness, joy, even. Q knew this had to be difficult for Picard. The thought that he was doing this to Q like this. He couldn't stand it.

"Oh!" Q warned suddenly, and Picard could feel how tight his sac was. He had a decision to make.

He pushed himself down as far as he could manage and sucked hard.

"Jean-Luc! Love!"

The hot cum in his mouth was almost too much, and he lost more than he swallowed, both distracted and aroused by the simple idea of what he was doing. Q was coming in his mouth, and he grew painfully hard as the reality sunk in. He waited until Q was completely spent and limp, then released him and looked at Q, covered in sweat and gasping, eyes closed, arms flung out. The vulnerability shook him.

His aural memory kicked in. Did Q love him? Could Q love anyone besides himself?

Without opening his eyes, Q dragged his legs back, pressing the tops of his thighs against his chest as a jar flashed into existence near Picard's hand.

What did this mean to him, anyway? To either of them? Why was he moving now so quickly, spreading lubricant over his erection even as the residue of Q's cum felt thick in his mouth? Was this just simple lust, or did he love Q? Could he love anyone when some part of him was still connected to the Borg?

And Q was more powerful than the Borg, could hurt him far worse. Or worse yet, could protect Picard until the man couldn't stand on his own anymore. He was already not the captain he had been...

Oh, but how could he think of that when he was pushing himself inside Q, watching those still-closed eyes roll with the pleasure expressed in a whimpering moan?

"Never have this enough," Q said when he had eased in deep.

"Open your eyes."

It took a moment, but then the dark brown gaze was meeting his own. Picard moved a lubricated hand to Q's penis and began to stroke. Groaning again, Q moved with him, and grew hard again as Picard thrust and stroked, keeping his eyes locked onto Q's dark gaze, trying to convey something through his eyes he couldn't even think in his own mind.

And eventually his own gaze dropped. It didn't matter, he thoug