Hard Won

Notes: I retreated to good old mailing list conventions for this fic, so asterisks (*) indicate bold/italicized text and double forward slashes (//) indicate thoughts.

Also archived with the rest of my P/Q stories at:
http://www.geocities.com/pompadour_slim/pq.html

A few canon details have been conveniently misplaced. *cough* literary license *cough*

The negotiations were not going well. It was beyond imagining, Picard thought, that this newly discovered race did not share some common ancestor with the Ferengi. He had spent so much time diffusing the explosive turmoil brought on by shameless sniping and back-biting within each faction that inter-faction discussion had hardly even begun a full three weeks after the Enterprise committed itself to orbit around the tiny, green planet of Drol-4.

At first, the landscape had seemed promising. After all, they had nowhere very pressing to be once their negotiations were concluded, and if all went well there was every possibility of a planet leave. Few of the crew had not considered, however briefly, what a delight it would be to spend leave on a lush, vegetation-rich planet - to sit in the shade of a leafy plant that was made of something other than light and trickery. Data, though, charmingly oblivious to the fact that he was once again the bearer of bad news, had nipped that fantasy in the bud, as it were. The atmosphere, it seemed, was seventy-eight percent carbon dioxide and therefore entirely lacking in support for anyone on board the Enterprise. Anyone, that was, except Data. Picard himself had been bothered but not surprised when, the irony not being lost is cis command staff, the android had been subjected to more than the usual amount of teasing and foul moods in the last days before the negotiations officially began.

But that had only been the beginning. Though the Drols were an elegantly built race, tall and slender, with an almost luminescent tinge to their soft blue skin, their cultuas uas utterly at odds with their appearance. At first Picard had snapped at himself for being so seduced by his own cultural norms as to even have such a thought, but as time wore on, such lofty ideals in the face of the political carnage he was trying to mediate only made him want to laugh maniacally. Or take a phaser to his temple. Or -- and this seemed so much better for the Universe at large -- take a phaser to the entire Drol assembly.

They had bickered and scoffed and snorted and flailed during the discussion of where the formal negotiations ought to be held. It was true that occasionally conflicting customs and interests made these questions difficult, but never had Captain Picard seen such a display of petulance and general unpleasantness in all of his years of space exploration. Ultimately, the warring factions -- if they could be said to be 'warring' when they never actually got around to making war because neither side cougreegree with itself on how to go about it -- had acquiesced to the captain's suggestion that they conduct the negotiations aboard the Enterprise. He had thought it a victory, if a small one, to have made them agree on anything at all. That is, until the representatives had beamed aboard in the clunky, awkward and obviously uncomfortable spacesuits which kept the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the ship from irritating their skin and lungs. If Picard had ever been so recklessly hopeful as to imagine that at least their demeanors could not get any worse, he had been wrong. The suits were hot, apparently, and the insulation itched. A complaint here or there would not have been especially bothersome, but those facts were, as it turned out, the entire content of the first ambassadorial meeting.

After three weeks, all that Picard had been able to determine was that an artifact of apparently no intrinsic value had been unearthed in an area claimed by both sides -- an area which had itself been so lacking in value that neither faction had made the effort to populate or defend it. The Imperator had gnashed his long, rectangular teeth and waved his arms theatrically as he told the story of how a previous High Zet's minions had used guile and treachery to wrest the artifact from his ancestor two thousand years ago. For her part, the High Zet had remained calm and collected as she related the tale of the violent abandon with which one of the Imperator's predecessors had slaughtered her people over the same artifact five hundred years later. At the very least, the captain had thought, one faction seemed willing to contain its ire for the sake of the negotiations. The next day, however, upon being apprised of the fact that one of the High Zet's courtiers had been caught red-handed in an assassination attempt against the Imperator's Chief Clerk, Jean-Luc Picard had been very close to wishing that he had hair just so that he could tear it out again.

Now, though, a recess had been suggested and, after what seemed like a heated debate for heated debate's sake, agreed to by all sides.

"Two days," Picard murmured to himself, his eyes closing briefly as he stopped to enjoy the silence outside of the transporter room door. He could still hear the high-pitched voichatchattering in his head, but for the moment his ears were utterly free from similar assault and he savored it.

"I don't mean to interrupt your reverie, Sir, but I think this just might pick you up some." Exhaling softly through his nose and relaxing his features into well-schooled neutrality, the captain opened his eyes to find that Lieutenant Commander LaForge was smiling patiently and offering him a padd.

"Oh?" As he flicked the arrow buttons and surveyed the dat the the small screen, Picard felt himself wanting to chuckle. The more he tried to stifle it, the more insane he felt. Taking a deep breath, he managed to squash his insanity into a thoughtful grimace as he read his talented engineer's plan for an electrostatic enclosure that would allow the Drols to situate themselves in a receptive environment on board the Enterprise. Picard nodded stiffly as he handed the padd back to LaForge. "Make it so, Mr. LaForge, make it so." The Lieutenant Commander regarded him attentively for a moment before giving him an answering nod.

"Yes, Sir. But… I'll need some extra power. I was thinking we could take it from shields… as long as the Drols know that's what we're doing. If they tried anything aggressive and we had to pull the power from these electrostatic enclosures, that would be the end of all of their representatives on the Enterprise." Coughing into his fist to defeat the ridiculous smile that was once again threatening to appear, the captain nodded again. After three weeks of negotiation with the inhabitants of Drol-4, the idea that anything, *anything* might go his way seemed absurd and worth a very hearty laugh. Still, he couldn't help being hopeful. It was part of his nature.

"Indeed, Mister LaForge. I'm afraid we've still got to sell the idea to the Drols themselves, but if those biosuits are even half as uncomfortable as they seem to be, I think these enclosures of yours might be too much for them to resist."

"I'll get started right away, Captain." Picard nodded again and then LaForge was gone, on his way down the otherwise empty corridor. //The rest of them must be throwing a party to celebrate the recess,// he thought wryly as he started toward the turbolift.

"Deck nine, crew quarters," he told the lift after he had stepped inside, and its pleasant, low hum seemed almost amiable to him. //But Data won't be at the party; he'll be helping Geordi, of course. They do spend a great deal of time tog--// Suddenly his thoughts trailed off as the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose, tickling him. His tightly controlled expression twisted into a subtle frown at the sensation, and at the accompanying one of being watched. Feeling ridiculous, he hazarded a discreet look around the small compartment that was, even now, whizzing him toward the safety and comfort of his quarters. Though he saw nothing but smooth, neutral paneling, he still felt a strange, almost tangible attention on him. //Good Lord but you're paranoid, Jean-Luc. Were you expecting to find one of the High Zet's courtiers crouching in the corner?// Shrugging off the disquieting but somehow not sinister feeling, Picard stepped through the turbolift doors and made his way toward his quarters with swift -- but not too swift -- and confident -- but not too confident -- strides.

For no reason he could discern, the captain found that as he walked through the door he half expected something to be amiss. A quick glance around the room made him feel silly for even wondering, as nothing seemed out of place. Taking a moment to ensure that his artifacts were as he'd left them, Picard sighed and shook his head. The negotiations really were getting to him. He felt insane with irony and full of suspicion. Certainly this hadn't been the most difficult dispute he'd had to mediate during his time in Starfleet, but he couldn't remember ever feeling so inexplicably skittish. Maybe he was losing his edge. Grunting, he shook his head again and pushed that thought from his mind. Even if he were losing his edge, the last thing he needed to do was risk the success of an already stressful mission by letting himself worry about it. No, he was just tired and frustrated, and possibly in need of a counseling session.

"Computer," Picard murmured, walking into his bedroom and shedding his uniform on the way. "The Magic Flute. From the beginning, at two thirds normal volume." Tucking his uniform away carefully and giving himself a private, contented smile as the music slipped in softly over the hum of the ship's engines, the captain eased into his Starfleet pajamas.

"Mozart? Mon Capitaine, I'm appalled! If you're going to subject yourself to obsolete human caterwauling, I would think Debussy more worthy of you." Immediately Picard's hands fell away from buttoning his pajama top. It was all he could do not to whirl around toward the window where he could already imagine the entity lounging smugly against the sill. Never again, he swore silently, would he have the arrogance to say to himself, 'At least things can't get any worse.'

"Q." When he finally did turn, doing his best to affect a relaxed, disapproving expression, the captain found that Q had situated himself against the window in much the way he had anticipated. The entity wore a Starfleet Captain's uniform in obvious mockery of Picard's own position, and he was leaning comfortably, arms crossed loosely in front of him. The urge to tug the sides of his shirt together protectively was strong, but the captain overcame it.

"Oui?" A nonchalant cock of that dark head, a twinkle in those glittering, hooded eyes.

"Don't patronize me. What do you want?" It took almost all of what remained of his restraint and endurance to prevent himself from bristling outwardly. Whatever Q wanted, the very last thing he was going to get was an emotional reaction from Picard.

"Jean-Luc, is it inconceivable to you that I might have come just to… *hang out*? To 'chew the fat', as you Humans are so fond of saying?" With a lavish, wistful gesture, Q came away from the window and snapped his fingers, reappearing across the room, on the captain's bed. Picard felt his eyes go wide for a brief moment at the sheer audacity of the entity who was now sitting primly atop his bedspread, legs crossed and hands folded gingerly in his lap. Snorting softly at his own naiveté, Jean-Luc nodded once.

"Yes."

"Ahh, well. I suppose I will admit to having a slightly ulterior motive." Q combed his fingers through his hair daintily and gave Picard an obviously exaggerated self-deprecating frown. There was still an infuriatingly smug glint in the entity's dark eyes, but the familiarity of it was somehow comforting. Exhaling deeply, with a meaningful glance toward his desk, the captain groped for what was left of his sanity.

"I'm not in the mood for guessing games, Q. In fact, I'm within a hair's breadth of setting that phaser over there to kill and zapping the next thing that moves." //What an absurd thing to say,// Picard thought, his brows knitting together distractedly. Not only would a phaser be a ridiculous weapon to attempt to use on a semi-omnipotent demi-god, but the likelihood of the captain's diving for a phaser out of sheer frustration was very slim indeed. He was known for his restraint, after all. Then why had he said such a thing? //It was a joke. But why would I joke with Q? Whatever he wants, it's doubtful that I'll consider it a laughing matter. Have these negotiations driven me so insane that I find his company amusing? Ah, Dieu.//

"Funny you should mention that. Would you believe that I've been watching this debacle for two weeks now, patiently waiting for the opportunity to come and take you away from all of this?" Q purred, smiling at him. Some lascivious suggestion tugged at the corner of the entity's full, sensual upper lip. Deciding that he had waited long enough to seem cl anl and undisturbed, Picard turned most of his attention to buttoning his pajama shirt, to shielding himself from the ambiguous promises in that expression. Still, one eye remained always on Q, who had made himself at home on the captain's bed.

"No, I wouldn't," he murmured indifferently as he finished threading the last button through its buttonhole. Q scoffed, making a dramatically dismissive gesture and rising quickly. Picard quirked a dark, delicately arched brow in vague amusement as the entity rested his hands on cocked hips. What was wrong with him? He really should be angrier about the intrusion and its inevitable consequences. Instead, the captain felt himself beginning to genuinely enjoy Q's ridiculous affectations. There was so much he wondered about: How much of Q's ridiculousness was conscious? How much was intentional? What was he like among his own race, when no one's existence was at stake?

How much of the suggestion in those dark eyes was sincere?

"Well believe it, Johnny baby. Now, let's see… where will I take you? Not Sherwood Forest, certainly. What are you in the mood for? Sun and surf? Green pastures? Cozy, authentic local flavor?" Picard frowned, crossing his arms over his chest even as the entity smiled faintly and pursed his lips in what appeared to be a genuinely thoughtful manner. Of course the captain had known that the theatrics and entertaining banter would only take them so far. Q had something in mind, and he doubted he would like it.

"If you're going to whisk me off somewhere, why bother flashing in to ask me about it first?" For a brief instant, Picard thought he saw a glimmer of irritation spark in the entity's eyes. One blink, though, and Q was clutching demurely at the breast of his Starfleet uniform and smirking.

"Oh, Picard, you wound me! I don't think I can go on for another fifty million years knowing that you think I would drag you away against your will. Really, Jean-Luc, if you don't want to come along just say so and I'll be gone in a flash - Cadet's honor." Maddening smirk giving way to even more maddening nonchalance, Q held up his hand in contemptuous imitation of a Vulcan salute. When Picard shook his head in disbelief, it was not at the entity's desire to take him somewhere, or even at his blatant disrespect for everything the he held dear, but at his having apparently enaineained the thought that the captain might want to go with him. Whatever came of Q's visit, Jean-Luc did not want to find himself before a Starfleet review board at some point in the future, his only excuse being, 'Well, I didn't have anywhere else to be at the time.' It was that thought that made him snicker slightly when he asked,

"What ever made you think that I would go anywhere with you willingly?"

"Oh, that. Why, because I know something you don't know that I know, Mon Capitaine." Blackmail? Surely Q was above blackmail. Even if he weren't, what could he possibly plan to use as leverage? The captain narrowed his eyes and tried to read Q's face, but the entity's gaze was unexpressive.

"Pardon?" Q rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before darting them around to lock with Jean-Luc's. Startled by the intensity he found there, Picard couldn't help blinking. As swiftly as it had appeared, though, the passion was gone and the captain had to wonder whether it had been there at all. The entity made an airy gesture.

"Don't play senile with me, Jean-Luc. You heard what I said." Reflecting that Q had never gotten directly to a point in all the time he'd known him, Picard made his way over to an armchair in the corner of the room. He was tired, and if they were going to have to go through this charade of amiability and innocence, he wasn't going to do it standing up. Under normal circumstances, he would never allow his body to relax while there was an intruder in his bedroom, but how could his body help him against Q? The entity pivoted smoothly to follow the captain's movement and tapped his foot impatiently.

"Yes, though I suppose I was hoping I hadn't. I can only imagine you plan to blackmail me, but honestly, Q, I've no idea what you think you've got up your sleeve." Picard could hear the fatigue in his own voice, but he told himself that it didn't matter. He was human after all, and Q knew that as well as he did
"B
"Blackmail? Hardly. And it isn't what's up my sleeve, Johnny; it's what's in these regulation fleefleet trousers that makes all the difference." The entity's eyelids drooped and his hips thrust forward ever so slightly in suggestion.

"Excuse me?" Knowing that he had sputtered and hardly caring as his weariness was replaced by indignation, the captain sat up in his chair and frowned deeply at Q.

"Playing deaf again?"

"If anything you said made any sense I wouldn't have to." Jean-Luc resolved to remain calm. After all, he really wasn't shocked by anything Q said anymore, and sexual innuendo was nothing to squirm about. If the insinuation had not come from those pouting lips… //Stop right there,// he snapped at himself. As he watched, Q exhaled dramatically and took the time to walk over to him in a decidedly Human fashion.

"All right, how's this? You're gay, Jean-Luc. You know it. You've always known it. You didn't know I knew, but now you do." The captain felt his face grow hot and wondered dimly whether Q could tell in the low evening light of his bedroom. Leaning forward well into what Picard considered to be his personal space, the entity placed his hands on the armrests of the chair. //He's bluffing. He's got to be bluffing.// Forcing himself to meet deep, glittering brown eyes, the captain inhaled.

"What makes you think that?" At the relatively steady sound of his own voice, Picard relaxed slightly even as Q leaned closer.

"Oh, I don't know…" the entity breathed suggestively. "How about Cadet Adrian Vega, for one? Jack Crusher? That auburn haired Adonis from the Academy whose name you never quite caught?" Jean-Luc felt the hairs on the back of his neck jolt to attention and the sensation swept him away in a wave of startling déjà vu. Q had not, in fact, been bluffing. Desperately, Picard groped for his last reasonable point of argument.

"I think you're forgetting quite a formidable list of female characters," he murmured, painfully aware of how breathless he sounded, of how much Q's closeness was affecting him. The entity smiled knowingly and pulled away with a suddenness that made Jean-Luc start.

"Still clinging to your indignation with a vice grip? Of course you are. That's what makes you you, sweet pea." As Q turned away and began to pace, the captain took the opportunity it afforded him to be off stage, as it were. Closing his eyes briefly, he passed a hand over his face and exhaled with a quiet, almost imperceptible shudder. Q made a wide, deliberate gesture and continued. "And obviously I'm not forgetting any of the females you so generously refer to as 'characters'. You think that being able to get it up for a woman makes you bisexual, Jean-Luc, but you're so repressed that you could get it up for a grapefruit if you let your guard down long enough. Deep down you know the reason you stay away from men is because you're capable of falling in love with them."

Q turned on him as he spoke, unreal brown eyes shimmering and seeming to capture every detail. Outwardly, Picard was motionless, his entire back aching with the sudden clench of muscles that kept him still under such ruthless scrutiny. Inside, though, the man felt himself begin to panic. Whatever he had imagined Q's purpose to be, whatever he had thought him capable of, this was worse. What was the entity working toward? Humiliating him? Ruining his personal relationships?

"I loved… love Beverly and you know that very well." Picard felt his upper lip twitching into a snarl, felt his chin quivering with anger that wasn't really anger. Beverly. Oh, Lord, Beverly. What would she think if Q decided to flash into sickbay and show her a holographic recreation of this conversation?

"Of course you do! And you've loved Wesley for years, but don't try to convince me that you're a pedophile. Isn't it so much easier to be with someone you can please and love without ever having to worry that you might lose yourself? Isn't it so measieasier to do that than it is to worry about softening up or letting some part of that precious Starfleet Captain's façade drop away? After all, what sort of a captain would you be, Jean-Luc, if you let anything at all mean more to you than your darling dearest spaceship and its crew?" The entity was approaching him again, clutching the armrests and leaning forward. This time, though, the deeply expressive brow was knitted, the dark eyes searching. Surprised to find no guile in Q's expression, the captain squinted as the urge to rise up with a heated denial crumbled and fell away. Q knew; the harm had already been done. If Picard admitted the truth he ehe entity's claim, he might be able to use the element of surprise to gain the upper hand.

"Not the sort of captain I want to be. There, I've said it. Was that your game, Q? To get me to admit something personal? Something shameful?"

"Something shameful? Of course not," Q snapped, as though irritated by Picard's inability to understand him. Frowning pensively, the entity let his head hang down for a moment. The captain shifted uncomfortably and wondered why he was suddenly more bothered by the idea that he couldn't grasp a point Q apparently thought was elementary than he was by the situation in general. //I've always been fond of puzzles, but this is ridiculous.// Q withdrew again and made to pace across the room, calling back over his shoulder in a syrupy voice, "You've been so indulgent tonight, Mon Capitaine, perhaps you would permit me just one more question, hmm?"

Picard nodded stiffly and his gaze roamed out toward the window where a seemingly infinite number of stars twinkled against the black canvas of space. Anything, anything was better than watching those provocative hips sway away from him, and it was somehow reassuring to think that even now a seemingly infinite number of lives went on out there, unaffected by the Drols or Q -- hopefully -- or Picard's own discomfort with both. Still, he couldn't entirely shield from himself the realization that, truthfully, he didn't want this to be the last question.

"I'm a Q, as you of course know. You also know that the Human form you see before you is not my true form. Why, then, do you think, Jean-Luc, if I can take any form I wish and have had an absurdly long time to gather blueprints for possible forms… why do you think I've stuck with this one since we met?" Q gestured demonstratively as he spoke, as though leading a child down a simple logical path. Frowning thoughtfully, Picard gave the entity his full attention. //Because its at-rest expression is the most petulant one you couldd?//d?//

"It was my understanding that it was the closest Human approximation of your true self, for lack of a better way of putting it." Q nodded and his eyes lit up hopefully.

"It is, it is… in an extremely simplistic sense. But why not appear as a Vulcan? Now, wouldn't *that* be ironic? Or one of those Belesian sex queens? I imagine they hlotslots of fun, don't you?" Picard snorted. He couldn't help himself. Though the captain quickly resolved his expression into a grimace, his reaction had not gone unnoticed by Q, who grinned triumphantly. Wholly regaining his composure, Jean-Luc brushed a knuckle under his nose and said dryly,

"I thought the idea of mortal copulation disgusted you."

"When you put it like that, what's not disgusting about it? No, Jean-Luc… I may be a semi-omnipotent demi-god, but the truth is, I'm not entirely above the occasional bout of self-indulgent bitterness. If you were a Q who wanted to copulate with a Human you couldn't have, you'd have been bitter too. You agreed to one more question, mon ami; don't try to wriggle away now. Here, I'll refresh your memory: Why do you think I've been so very attached to this form since we met?" Q sauntered toward him again, and Picard was shocked to find that he wasn't discomforted. //Mon Dieu… I'm enjoying myself again. As soon as Q leaves I'm going to contact Will and advise a mutiny.//

"You didn't say I had to answer the question correctly. I told you I wasn't in the mood for guessing games." Despite his every effort to prevent it, the captain felt his dark brows twitch slightly, as though to say 'en garde!'. Yes, he was enjoying himself, and he was too tired and too taken in by the tall, sulky figure looming over his armchair to worry about what that might mean. At that moment it didn't matter to Jean-Luc what the entity's purpose was, or how long it might take him to get around to divulging it. Q smiled earnestly.

"Fair enough. I'll tell you why. It was for you." The smile held steady and Picard had no idea what to make of it. He cocked his head, frowning incredulously.

"For me? Don't be absurd, Q."

"But oui, Mon Capitaine. Why? Don't you like it?" Q leaned away, drawing himself up to his full height with a flourish. //Presumably to give me a good look. Doesn't he know that I've done more than enough looking at him already?// A faint, wry grin curling the corners of his mouth, Picard answered,

"It hadn't occurred to me to consider it." Seemingly unable to resist, the entity surged forward again, clutching at the armrests of Picard's chair and looking deeply into his eyes.

"Ahh, now who's got an ulterior motive, Jean-Luc?" he murmured. The captain knew - *knew* - that he ought to snap at Q, tell him move away, but the entity's warm breath and all-too-human scent were intoxicating and Picard couldn't make himself do it. //Exactly how human has he made himself?//

"Lying and having an ulterior motive are not the same thing." He heard his voice taking on the playful, husky timbre that Q's had and some distant, more rational part of his mind kicked him, hard. When the entity's face lit up in what seemed to be an entirely genuine way, though, that part of his mind went silent.

"So you *do* want me!" Q was smiling at him and something twisted in Picard's chest, as though he'd suddenly and violently employed a muscle that normally went unused. The idea that Q might be showing sincere emotion, that the entity's own emotional state might in some way hinge on Jean-Luc's reaction was somehow terrifying. The captain told himself that that was impossible, or at the very least unlikely. He told himself that everything he saw expressed in those soulful eyes was a calculated lie, but for some reason that he could not justify, he didn't believe it. Wincing faintly in the face of all of that confusing earnestness, Picard opened his mouth and hoped he wouldn't regret whatever came out of it.

"'Want' is such a relative term. Do I want to have my hands full with a childish immortal bent on using my basic human drives as a source of amusement? No, not particularly. Do I want to have to worry about having a childish immortal running amok on my ship while I'm in the middle of complex negotiations? Not at all, no." Some part of him was distantly aware of being terrified that he might have hurt Q's feelings - his feelings! - and of being greatly relieved when the entity grinned lasciviously at him and hitched his hips forward.

"Semantics, Jean-Luc, semantics! Let me put it to you like this: does your body want me?" Picard sighed shakily and leaned back in his chair, feeling his cheeks redden again. As entertaining as it had been to dance around the subject and to watch Q pose and preen for him, he did not feel at all prepared to answer the question the entity had put to him. Stubborn suspicion rose to his defense, then, and gave him yet another way to avoid the issue.

"What possible difference could it make either way? If you go back to the Continuum and tell them triumphantly that Jean-Luc Picard has admitted to having a physical attraction to you, it will be like telling them that I've admitted to having the need to eat, or to breathe. It's a function of the human body, Q. You of all people should know that." Q didn't move, but his eyes made a slow circuit down the length of Picard's body and back up again to meet the man's increasingly unsteady gaze. Feeling hot all over, sure that he was sweating, mortified at the realization that he was on the verge of getting an erection, Jean-Luc swallowed.

"So you do admit it." Suddenly it didn't matter anymore. Without his anger to assist it, the captain's fear of Q's intentions was quickly proving itself to be no match for long-felt desire or the closeness of the entity's -- //Fake,// he told himself, //fake!// -- body.

"Very well," he said slowly, with resignation. "Yes, I admit it. Are you quite finished?" Every fiber of his being wanted to shrink from Q's penetrating gaze, but he refused to cower. Seeming pleased by that, or by a combination of it and his admission, the entity smiled slightly.

"Only getting started, Mon Capitaine."

Captain Picard never had a chance. The two were so close already that when Q leaned forward to cover the man's thin, chiseled lips with his own, Jean-Luc was hardly aware of the movement until it was too late. For a moment he stayed frozen, shocked and terrified, and Q was still but for the subtlest brushing of the entity's mouth against his. The glittering intensity Picard had witnessed in Q's eyes earlier returned and stayed, even as those luscious, full lips parted. His eyelids drooping, the captain managed to suppress a groan, though his mouth opened against his will to receive the entity's gentle, probing tongue. //So human,// Jean-Luc moaned inwardly, closing his eyes all the way as Q kissed him harder, tasting him, making him hard. Years of deprivation and loneliness had taken their toll on the captain and his last frayed thread of defense snapped. When he returned the kiss he did so feverishly, plunging his hands into the entity's hair and caressing his tongue with what would have been, under different circumstances, embarrassing urgency. As they withdrew, finally, gasping for breath, Q nipped icaricard's bottom lip. The man groaned softly and tried to focus his vision, but all he could think of was the fact that he suddenly couldn't remember the last time he had gotten an erection from actual physical contact. Q nuzzled his neck sensuously before dragging those perfect lips up the column of his throat to suck his earlobe. It was so good to be touched, to be kissed, to imagine with giddy desire what might happen next and what might happen later. But it wasn't real; none of it was real. This was Q touching him, Q kissing him.

"Why, Q?" Picard gasped quietly, even as the entity snuck a warm hand under his pajama top to caress his stomach.

"Mmm?" Without snapping, Q wished the man's top away along with his own Starfleet upper body wear. Having done that, he descended hungrily on Jean-Luc's chest, kissing wetly and caressing with eager hands.

"You… you already have… my admission, Q… Why are you still… ahh… doing this?" Q stilled and Picard sighed his disappointment, nervous fingers tightening in the entity's dark hair. The man felt hard and empty, cold and desperate, and, in the back of his mind somewhere, pathetic.

"I'm not here on Continuum business, Jean-Luc. Do you really think they have nothing better to do than order Qs out to seduce mortals?" When those dark eyes rose to meet his, Picard was struck by the depth he saw there. He knew that he should admonish himself for being taken in so easily, for letting the entity use his body against him, but he couldn't help it; he believed.

"Then… why?" Q's eyes narrowed and he winced with muted irritation.

"Isn't it obvious? Here, I'll make it obvious." Q seized Picard's wrist firmly and dragged the man's hand away from his hair to press it to his groin. Smoky hazel eyes widened at the hardness there, tucked behind thick black material, and the heat emanating from it. Picard felt his own prick tighten and begin to weep at the sensation of having another man's -- well, almost -- arousal in his hand after so many years. Squeezing experimentally, he was nearly overcome by a rush of longing at the raw groan the action drew from Q's chest. "Do you see? Now do you see, Jean-Luc?" the entity husked raggedly, his eyes slitted with desire.

Panting, Picard traced a fingertip along the curve of Q's bottom lip, swollen from kissing him. Had this superhuman creature from a far-flung, unknowable place finally decided it was worth his time to experiment with Human sexuality? But the captain couldn't make himself care why Q wanted him anymore. There was lust in that heated gaze, hunger in the subtle tremble of those strong hands, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm only human," Jean-Luc whispered, not realizing he'd uttered it aloud until Q's expression became one of what, in a different being, might have been construed as concern. Without raising his hand, the entity snapped and Picard found himself on his back atop his own bed, Q lying along the length of him and looking imploringly into his eyes.

"None of that tonight, please. Please, Jean-Luc." The captain frowned softly, focusing his rapt attention on Q's face as his chest tightened and burned again. His arousal slackened slightly to make way for an overwhelming desire to find out what had upset the entity and, unbelievably, to comfort him.

"Q, what… ah, Dieu!" Blinking away any trace of vulnerability, Q leaned in again, this time taking one of the man's nipples firmly between his full lips. Picard arched roughly against the entity, all hope of rational thought momentarily blotted out by a searing jolt of pleasure that sparked between his chest and his prick. Warm, deliberate hands smoothed a path over his stomach, caressed his ribs, and melted the tension in his shoulders as a tongue teased his other nipple. Anxious to take some measure of control over the situation, even as he writhed under the entity's touch, Jean-Luc grabbed firm hold of Q's upper arms. His brain refused to form a complex plan of movement, and so he gave in to sensation, dragging the heels of his hands across tight biceps and digging his fingertips into soft flesh. //Fake flesh,// a distant, nearly inaudible part of his mind tried to protest.

"Jean-Luc," Q moaned very softly as he nuzzled his way again toward the captain's neck. "Jean-Luc, why have you done this to yourself?" The hushed reverence in the entity's voice sent a pang of something unidentifiable, simultaneously pleasurable and painful, through Picard, who could scarcely focus enough to understand the question at its most basic, literal level. It seemed important to Q, though, so he tried to ignore the warm, wet kisses, the welcome heaviness of the body above him, and the sense of impending combustiong eng enough to give some kind of response.

"Done… what… to myself?" the man managed to gasp, knowing as he did that his hips were rocking sensuously and of their own accord. With a playfully wicked grin, Q reached down abruptly and, with infinite grace, slipped a hand inside the captain's pajama shorts to wrap around his aching erection.

"This," Q whispered. Picard shuddered and a hoarse groan tore its way from his heaving chest. His hands fell away from the entity's arms to wrench mindless knots in the bedspread at either side of his head. Q was an angel of mercy now, descended to end his long self-denial by stroking him purposefully with his hand and breathlessly with his voicehy hhy have you been so cruel to yourself, and for so long? You deserve this, Jean-Luc. Bel homme." The words registered somewhere at the edge of Picard's perception, joining with his deepest hope to silence the last whispers of self-recrimination. Writhing, the man bucked, thrusting himself into that warm, knowing hand over and over.

"Q!" he choked, his eyes widening blankly in shock as the intensity of his approaching orgasm became clear to him. Jean-Luc's teeth clenched and his body bowed off of the bed, his breath coming in shuddering fits and starts. In brief nano-seconds of near-lucidity, the captain was aware of Q hovering over him, the entity's gaze intense and urgently hopeful. Stroking harder, faster, matching Picard's strong thrusts, Q struggled to lean forward and plunge his tongue into the man's open mouth. The awkward intimacy of that additional stimulation overcame Jean-Luc. He groaned into the kiss and filled Q's fist and his own Starfleet pajama shorts in hot, shuddering spurts.

When the entity's mouth withdrew from his, Picard was at first too occupied with gasping for breath and drowning in perfect, oceanic bliss to notice anything else. Dimly at first, and then more clearly, though, he became aware that Q had flattened a warm sticky palm on his stomach and was arched back, grinding against him. Startled out of his post-orgasmic haze, the captain watched raptly as Q's rhythm began to falter. The entity's face was flushed and his nostrils flared with every ragged breath. Acting on impulse, Picard reached out to caress Q's chest, loving the way it slid across his palm in time with the thrusts. //He's made himself Human enough to sweat.// At the touch, Q's eyes flew open and he dug his fingertips into the captain's skin. With a throaty sob, the entity convulsed, his expression a tender grimace of determination and relief. Then, trembling, he collapsed atop Jean-Luc in a slick, boneless heap.

Feeling as though he had seen something he wasn't meant to see, the captain gathered Q in his arms and held him as he might someone who had just had a traumatic experience. //Dear Lord, have I got my arms around *Q*?// As he shifted slightly and listened to Q's shuddering gasps beginning to slow, Picard frowned at the unpleasant way his shorts clung to thighs. //I didn't miss that, but it was more than worth it.// No sooner could he acknowledge the unpleasantness, though, than it was gone, along with his cooling semen and the sweat between their bodies.

"Jean-Luc," Q murmured thickly, pushing himself up and out of Picard's reluctantly unresisting embrace. The entity's gaze was bleary, his expression vaguely anxious.

"Yes, Q?" Sitting up slowly, Q brushed a hand absently across his own chest and in an instant he was fully dressed again. Picard watched quietly, feeling as though someone had mistaken his guts for spaghetti and was twisting a fork into them, tangling, pulling. //He's leaving.// With a soft, resigned sigh, the captain tucked an arm behind his head.

"Do you feel better now?" Q asked quietly. Crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, he watched Jean-Luc with shy eyes.

"Better than what?"

"Than when you stepped out of the transporter room on the verge of hysteria." Blinking, Picard raised himself onto his elbows and stared at Q. The entitalloallowed guiltily. //He *has* been watching me!//

"That was you in the turbolift making me think I'd lost my mind." Exhaling, Q shrugged half-heartedly and flashed the captain a sheepish, wincing smile.

"I didn't mean to make you think that. Of course, I should have known you would." He gestured aimlessly, casting a wistful glance around Picard's bedroom. "I'd been watching you for so long, and I knew how much stress you were under… so I made a little bit of my presence known." The memory of that strange tickle along the back of his neck was vivid and glowing in Jean-Luc's mind, and the man frowned.

"How did you expect me to react, under the circumstances?" Q tapped his fingers on his bent knees and looked up at the ceiling as though the perfect wording for his response might be scrawled there.

"To a Q, being alone in your own… well, your own mind, as it were… is terrifying, petrifying, even. I thought it would… comfort you." The idea that Q might have shown him kindness of any kind, successful or not, would have been inconceivable to Picard only an houforefore. Now, though, he found that he not only believed the sincerity of the entity's claim, but he was responding to it emotionally. Shifting onto his side, the captain reached for one of Q's hands.

"Q…" he murmured, though he had no idea what to say.

"Yes, Jean-Luc?" Those deep brown eyes were sober and… tired? //Why is he like this? What's upsetting him? He's a Q, for God's sake!// Gropingly, Picard clutched at Q's hand and felt his own gripped fiercely, in spite of the entity's fatigued expression.

"What's this all about? Tell me." When Q turned his head, his withdrawal of eye contact seemed less like flight than surrender. The captain moved closer to him on the bed, his concern for the entity displacing all other emotions. With an anguished growl, Q raised his free hand to snap, but when Picard squeezed him more tightly out of instinctive desperation, the entity's hand stilled and his gaze whipped back toward him. There was passion in Q's eyes, and fear, but the most prominent sentiment his unshielded expression displayed was shock.

"You don't want me to leave," Q whispered, not bothering to hide his awe. A lump of inexpressible but nonetheless demanding emotion rose in Picard's throat, choking him so that the only word he could cram past it was,

"No." Hoping his body might express what his mind could not, Jean-Luc scrambled up to kneel on the bed and drew Q close to him, prng hng his lips to the entity's temple. Q melted against him and threaded his arms around the man's neck, holding tightly.

"Jean-Luc…mon amour…" he whispered.

Had Jean-Luc Picard been virtually any other man, he would have flinched, stiffened, gasped or choked at those words. Instead, though his mind reeled with astonishment and confusion, he only strengthened his embrace of the warm, limp body in his arms.

"Oh, Q," he breathed, the full force of the entity's pain washing over him sta staggering wave of realization. Q was in love with him, or something Q thought was love. The Continuum would know, wouldn't they? Memories of Q's espoused disdain for Humanity flooded Picard's mind, but instead of bristling with indignation, he felt only heavy, heart-breaking sympathy. If the other Q felt that way about Humans, what must they think of Q's falling in love with one? What must Q think of himself? A wet sniffle in his ear brought Picard back to concrete reality. "Q, are you…?"

"Crying? Yes, Jean-Luc. Disgusting things, these bodies," the entity grunted sardonically, pulling away slightly so that they could look at each other. Q's eyes shimmered with unshed tears and his nostrils had begun to redden. "But not yours," he went on, with an ironic grimace that tore at Picard's lumbering, mechanical heart. "Yours is a necessary part of what has turned out to be an evisceratingly beautiful whole." The captain swallowed and closed his eyes against the self-recrimination and pain in Q's expression, in his words, and in the way his silky voice cracked and grated. It was a cowardly thing to do, he told himself, but he couldn't help feeling that the entity's agony might rip him apart if he did not.

"I'm sorry," he whispered gently, trailing a blind hand up the arm of Q's Starfleet uniform and into the entity's soft, dark hair. A deep tendernessk hik him at the thought of all of that pain and the dramatic change it had brought about in Q's demeanor. Even as he submitted to it, he couldn't help wondering where it had come from. Had he only been waiting for Q to give him the opportunity to be something other than outraged or suspic? Bu? But it was so much safer to concentrate on Q's feelings. "I'm sorry, Q."

"Sorry?" the entity snorted, though even as Jean-Luc opened his eyes to see the expression it softened. It was obvious that Q didn't have the emotional strength left to live up to his expectation of belligerence. "What do you have to be sorry about? The way you've treated me tonight, Picard, you ought to be expecting an official commendation." Jean-Luc cupped Q's face in his hands and stared into it, holding more tightly when the entity made a cursory effort to pull away.

"It's 'Picard', now, is it?" Q smiled mirthlessly.

"You have every reason to mock me, Jean-Luc. Don't stop there." Picard grimaced, felt his stomach twist with frustration and desperation to find some perfect verbal salve for Q's angry emotional wounds.

"That isn't what I mean…"

"No, of course it isn't!" the entity snarled, his lips swollen and wet. "Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise has never uttered an unkind word… and here he has a semi-omnipotent immortal trembling with ridiculous love for him and all he wants to do is make it better." His eyes narrowing, the captain shook Q gently.

"Q, listen to me."

"Don't you understand, Jean-Luc? All I do anymore is listen to you! I listen to you humming in the shower! I listen to you ordering your happy little worker ants on the bridge… I've listened to you say, 'Tea, Earl Grey. Hot,' thirty-three times in the last month alone!" Q pulled roughly away from Picard as the man knelt, stunned to realize exactly how much he had been watched without his knowledge. "I don't need your pity, Mon Capitaine. I've done what I came to do. Now, if you'll excuse me." How childish Q was being, raising that hand to snap himself away! Though every fiber of Picard's being railed against impetuous decisions, the entity gave him no choice.

"Q, wait!" And Q did wait. Jean-Luc grabbed his arm firmly, hazel eyes hard and full of emotion. "Damnit, Q! I don't pity you, and if you want to avoid making me extremely angry, you'll stop threatening to flash out like that." The entity met Picard's gaze willfully for a moment and seemed ready to protest. The captain held firm, though, shifting his jaw and daring Q to argue.

"All right Jean-Luc," Q said finally, lowering his hand. "Tell me what you want." Dark brows crinkled as Picard frowned.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I would have thought that was obvious. Have I forgotten some tedious Human custom? Should I have brought dead foliage?" In spite of himself, Picard smiled very faintly.

"You want to court me, Q?" Q scowled and wrenched his arm out the man's grasp, but there was no real energy in the gesture.

When the entity didn't seem likely to answer verbally, Picard leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth. Q's eyes widened and he sighed, his warm breath tickling Jean-Luc's face. Encouraged, the man shifted his weight forward until Q's kneeling position could no longer support them and they drifted down onto the bed.

"I'm warning you, Jean-Luc… Don't tease me," the entity breathed, clutching at Picard's bare shoulders as the man settled atop him. Smiling down with twinkling eyes, Jean-Luc trailed his fingers through Q's hair tenderly.

"Or what?" Seemingly incapable of stopping himself, Q tilted his head back and pressed into the man's touch.

"I'll turn everyone on this ship into a puddle of semi-sentient space goo," he mumbled dreamily. "Not much of a stretch, really." Picard felt warm, soft lips on his palm and he leaned down to kiss Q's flushed cheek lightly before murmuring,

"I think you know that's not the best way to win me over." The entity stilled beneath him, his face turned to the side and partially hidden by the bedspread. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and uncharacteristically hesitant.

"You say that as though there were a chance." Picard smoothed a hand over Q's uniform and exhaled. There was such a commotion in his mind, so much he wanted to say and so much he was terrified to even think.

"I don't think chance comes into it," he sighed, full of warmth and fear. Q looked up at him, his dark eyes suddenly clear and sharp.

"You're out of your miniscule Human mind if you think I'm using my rs trs to persuade --"

"Hush, Q. Of course I don't think that. If you were using your powers, I imagine we would already have had some sort of farcical joining ceremony and I would be chained to whatever passes for your bed back in the Continuum." The entity shivered and thrust his hips against Jean-Luc's, his breathing beginning to change, to quicken.

"You can't imagine the temptation, Jean-Luc. You can't imagine what it's like to know that all I would have to do was wish for it and you'd be like that for me… loving me, wanting me." Despite the importance of the conversation, Picard felt himself responding to the friction and heat against him, to the idea of having Q again, of being had by Q. Those intense eyes glittered up at him and he had to take a breath before he could speak.

"Then why didn't you?" Q exhaled and craned his neck to let his wistful gaze roam across the room.

"It wouldn't be you, would it? A Q's love slave shaped like Jean-Luc Picard is hardly Jean-Luc Picard. I would get bored in a week and find myself wondering what my real captain was doing, only to remember that I'd made him into some sort of grotesque puppet." Grunting, the entity turned back to look at Jean-Luc and to fan a large, warm hand across his chest. The caress brought a soft hiss of pleasure from the captain, though he struggled to remain still, focused. "This is you, and even if I can't have you, it would be a crime to deprive the Universe of something so perfect." The ironic tilt of Q's grin did little to hide the sincerity in his eyes and Picard melted above him, nuzzling the entity's neck and inhaling his human scent.

"Q," he whispered huskily, tugging at Q's uniform sleeve. "Can't you do something about this?" In an instant they were naked and the sudden, intense sensation of flesh against flesh made them groan. Picard swooned, drunk with pleasure and the sudrealrealization that he had a man's bare body along his for the first time in more years that he was capable of counting in his present state of mind. Growling softly into Q's neck, he explored the entity's chest with his hands, luxuriating in the feel of taut muscles straining beneath the surface of the soft, flushed skin. Q arched against him with a muted gasp and, as he shifted, surprised Jean-Luc by nudging the man's erection with his knee. //Again… already… Dieu…// The man groaned and plunged his hand into Q's hair, tugging his head back urgently to make room for hungry kisses along the entity's throat.

"You… want me again…?" Q gasped, thrusting his own hard cock against the juncture of Picard's thigh. That steely velvet, needing and taking as it slid across his long-neglected skin, was too much. Q was so hot and alive, so strong as he writhed and clutched at Jean-Luc's back and shoulders.

"Q," Picard growled hoarsely, taking the entity by the arms and rolling them in one smooth motion so that Q lay above him. "Q, please…" Q supported his weight on one hand and let the fingertips of the other glide over the captain's parted lips. Dark eyes, full of desire, glittered down at Jean-Luc as the man slowly, so slowly, opened his mouth wider and enveloped one of Q's fingers. When Picard licked along the digit's length, massaging the pad and swirling his tongue around the tip suggestively, the entity moaned.

"What, Jean-Luc?" Q panted, his eyes never leaving the man's mouth as it made love to his finger. "What do you want?" With effort, Picard tilted his head back and released Q's finger, the wet tip dragging across his bottom lip and leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. Staring up at Q through hooded smringring eyes, he spread his legs slowly. The entity's breath hitched and he reached between them to fondle the sensitive back of Jean-Luc's thigh with deliberate reverence. Picard let his eyes close completely, let himself relax into the caress and into the soft bedclothes beneath him. It had been so long. He had been empty for so long. "This… this is what you want, mon amour?" Q asked gently, with wonder. The man nodded blindly and raised his hips, moanihen hen he felt the gentle pressure of a slick fingertip at the opening of his body.

"Yes… Q… please." Carefully, and aided by lubrication Q had wished into existence, that fingertip penetrated the tight ring of muscle and entered the captain's body. The faint twinge of pain that accompanied Q's stretching of his entrance sent a shiver of sizzling pleasure through Jean-Luc. It only worsened the ache, though, to have such a small taste of what the man had decided he would die without. When a second finger probed cautiously, Picard didn't wait for it to inch its way inside. His face flushed and his mechanical heart pounding, he thrust forward, engulfing the digit in one smooth, powerful movement. Q made a lustful noise above him, but he hardly heard it over his own shuddering groan. How had he gone so many years without this? How had he gone a day? Craving the rough, hot friction he remembered, he took hold of the sheets for leverage and bucked his hips, fucking himself on Q's fingers until the entity withdrew shakily. "*Q*," Picard moaned desperately, his eyes flying open as his body began to tremble with the force of his need.

"Tell me… you've done this… before," Q grated out, positioning the pulsing, wet tip of his human prick against the man's opening. "Tell me I'm not… going to hurt you."

"It's been... a long time… but you're not going to hurt me… Please, Q… Don't make me wait. I can't wait…" Picard's pleas trailed off into ragged, rumbling whimpers. Bracing himself with one hand on the man's sweaty thigh and gritting his teeth, Q pressed forward. As much as Jean-Luc wanted to watch the entity's face as he entered his body, the exquisite heat opening him tore away what little control he still had over his actions. His eyes rolled back into his head as he arched, groaning long and low and raising his legs to wrap them around Q's waist. The entity penetrated him slowly, unmoved by the strong urging of Jean-Luc's heels against the small of his back. As Q pressed further, Picard shook, feeling insane and wondering, dimly, how long it would take him to die of need if his lover decided not to move inside him at all. Finally, their hips met and Jean-Luc moaned at the sheer thought of Q's cock being buried entirely inside him. //I'm letting Q fuck me… He could turn me into a toad and I'm letting him fuck me. Immortal or not, the Federation be damned, if he stops I'll kill him.// Lying there under Q, with Q filling him and hovering over him, Picard existed only as a hot, excruciating ache. "Q, please!" he choked, far from caring that he was begging to be fucked in the ass. He would do anything, anything, at that moment to get Q to pound him and ease the throbbing, overwhelming need that had become the entirety of his perception and existence.

"You're so… beautiful… like that…" Q's voice was a stuttering whisper as he began to move inside Jean-Luc, slowly at first and then harder as man man thrbackback against him. The friction was warm, delicious relief, but each layer of need it fulfilled gave way to a deeper, hotter ache. Over and over, deep within him, Jean-Luc felt Q's cock stab that spongy, ecstatic nub that currently made his life worth living, and every stroke drove him further away from himself, further toward the tantalizing but gut-wrenchindistdistant precipice of joy. Why was Q holding back? Why wasn't he hammering Jean-Luc into the bed and biting him and pinning him down?

"Damnit, Q!" Picard growled roughly, flailing a hand up to grab at the entity's hair and mashing a thumb into his cheek in the process. "I thought you… ahhhh… loved me!"

"I do!" There was exasperation, terror and lust in that throaty croak as Q caressed the man's thighs, his steady rhythm making his hands clumsy.

"Then… fuck me… like you… mean it!" His nostrils flaring, Q groaned and let go, thrusting harder and harder until Jean-Luc wondered faintly whether inciting a demi-god to lose control while his cock was inside him might have been a good idea after all. The results, though, were undeniably good. Q wrenched Jean-Luc's hand from his face and pinned it above the man's head, quickly bringing the other up beside it. Pleasure electrifying and consuming him, making him groan rhythmically in time with the now-feverish movements of Q's hips, Picard struggled against the entity's grasp. There was strength there, a deceptive amount given the apparent humanity of Q's current form, and the futility of resistance sent Jean-Luc over the edge. Arching back and crying out in a coarse sob that made his throat sting, the man came hard, splattering their stomachs with a hot rush of semen. Q groanbovebove him, filling him and tearing him apart with two more faltering, violent thrusts before he came in a shuddering wave within the man's powerfully clenching muscles.

When a gasping, trembling Q collapsed atop him this time, Jean-Luc felt none of the awkward embarrassment-by-proxy that had characterized the aftermath of their previous coupling. In fact, he felt little at all aside from warm, gooey contentment for a long time. The subtle hum of the Enterprise's engines and Q's increasingly steady breathing lulled him into a dreamy haze where he was neither conscious noronsconscious. Distantly, almost as something apart from himself, he could feel the dull burn of muscles forced into unusual service with little preparation. The protestations of the muscles that had held Q within his body were the loudest, but there was no real pain -- only a deep, throbbing reminder of what he had forced himself to do without for so long. Something tugged at the edge of his consciousness and he felt himself frown, felt distinctly the way his thick brows crinkled together.

"Jean-Luc…" Q was saying as he shook the man's shoulder gently.

"Mmm…?" Picard forced his eyelids to flutter open and found that Q was watching him intently, those deep brown eyes only inches from his face. The entity exhaled dramatically, then, and rolled away to lie on his back, his arm overlapping Jean-Luc's comfortably.

"I thought I'd killed you." There was sarcasm in Q's voice, even the barest hint of playful condescension, and it inexplicably filled the man with elation.

"It occurred to me that you might, just after… the last thing I said. But what a way to go, hmm?" Q turned his head and quirked an exceptionally mobile brow at Jean-Luc, the corner of his mouth curved wryly.

"Feeling shy, Mon Capitaine? What *was* the last thing you said? I can't quite recall." His defenses utterly shot, Picard could only beam at the whole-hearted return of the clever, capricious entity he adored. //Adore? Where did that come from?//

"I thought some measure of self censorship might be wise. If I get you riled up again with dirty talk it's doubtful that I'll survive the consequences." With exaggerated nonchalance, Q shrugged and flung his left leg over Jean-Luc's right one, streng lng languidly.

"I could always just put you back together again. It's not like you're complicated." Picard leaned over and pressed his lips to Q's shoulder, chuckling softly at the mental image of the entity fucking him to death and then reviving him. He really shouldn't encourage Q to joke about using his powers that way, but he couldn't help being amused.

"Well, your ability to bring me back from the dead notwithstanding, I'm not feeling like very much fun at the moment. At least not in that department." Q smiled suggestively and trailed a playful fingertip along the column of Jean-Luc's throat.

"Fixing that would be easier still." The man frowned and pulled away slightly, the gesture a soft, silent warning. "I want to be like this for a while. It's pleasant and comfortable, and besides, I do have things to do tomorrow that I will need to be well-rested for." With a hesitant smile, Q rolled onto his side facing Jean-Luc and caressed the man's chest, twining his fingers in the gray-black hair he found there.

"We can fuck for a week, Jean-Luc," he purred. "However you want it, wherever you want it, and after that you can sleep for a week. Then, when you're ready, it'll be tomorrow morning, just like that."

"I want tomorrow morning to come when tomorrow morning is supposed to come, Q." Picard fought off the urge to say, //Don't make me regret letting this go on.// Q exhaled and leaned away from him reluctantly.

"Of course you do," he murmured, pushing himself up into a sitting position with obvious effort. There was a pensive silence then, as they looked each other. Jean-Luc felt that there was something he really ought to say, something at the back of his mind, something that he felt guilor nor not saying, but he couldn't quite grab hold of it. Propping himself up on his elbows, the man opened his mouth to say something, anything. When Q suddenly snapped himself back into his uniform, though, he closed it, stunned. "If you decide you'd like to do this again, Mon Capitaine, let me know. I'll be in touch," the entity said with gut-wrenching airiness as he poised to snap again.

"You're leaving? Just like that?" Picard gaped.

"Of course. I told you I came to relieve you. I've done that, and now I'm sure you'd like to get in a few hours of unconsciousness ere the morn. Unless you have something else to say." Jean-Luc swallowed, feeling small and weak under the burn of Q's intense gaze. //Tell him you love him, too,// a voice in his mind seemed to shout from very far away. Clenching his teeth, the man could only shake his head stiffly; he would never utter those words if he were not absolutely certain of their truthfulness, and especianot not if he were. Q nodded once, curtly, and snapped his fingers, flashing out and leaving Jean-Luc once again clean, dry and alone in his Starfleet pajamas.


[Continued in Chapter 2: An Offering]