This is an alternate story based on "Only Human" by Alara Rogers (aleph@netcom.com), although it isn't in her continuity. I got sufficiently obsessed by the story "Only Human" that I wrote an alternate set in this universe. Alara's permission has been secured for this. Also, this story contains sex, so if that sort of thing bothers you, you might want to skip out now. PropinQuity by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com); based on "Only Human" by Alara Rogers Naomi folded the card and put it in the envelope, smiling secretively. Cards were so antiquated, but it was a custom which seemed right for birthdays. For her own birthday, about six months past, before she'd decided that Q needed help, she gotten a huge card, almost as large as she was, signed by everyone in the science department. In fact, if she remembered correctly, someone had even managed to dragoon Q into signing it. She smiled again, hugging that knowledge to her like a teddy bear. She remembered it clearly now; it wasn't just wishful thinking on her part. Right down at the bottom, under all the good wishes and bad jokes from everyone else who'd signed, was an elaborate, curlicued Q. The card itself was safely stowed away with her other priceless memorabilia. Things like that couldn't be replaced by a replicator; their own value was sentimental, which to some people might mean that they had no value. Naomi didn't feel that way. Memories were beyond price, and the little trinkets that piled up along the way in life were souvenirs from something you could never quite get back to, invaluable reminders of the past. She sighed deeply. It was too bad Q didn't have a birthday. He wouldn't get to have times like these, or memories like these either. She sat stock still as a thought hit her. Why did Q have to not have a birthday? Just because he was never born didn't mean he couldn't have one. That was a mere technicality. All she had to do was pick an appropriate date. The idea was perfect, and Naomi accepted it immediately. How could she not have thought of this earlier? There was the date he became human, but Naomi rejected that immediately. Q would scarcely want to commemorate that occasion. Although, it might be good for him... Naomi shook her head. She wasn't going to play second rate psychoanalyst. She just wanted to find a good date for a party. When had Q been happy? Her mind leapt back to the defeat of the Borg. That had been largely Q's doing. The actual work had been a team effort, and she'd participated as much as anyone else, working on the creation of the actual computer virus which took them down, but it had been Q's invaluable contributions in the way of knowledge and past experience which had defeated the Borg. Naomi smiled to herself, eyes retreating inward as she remembered the base-wide party that just seemed to start spontaneously, sweeping everyone up in it. Q had been at his best then, radiating like a star. He'd seemed like a fallen angel to her, a little bit dangerous, a little bit evil, but very bright and shining and attractive. All of the non-essentials had been burned away from him by the feverish drive to find something, anything which would hold the Borg off. Naomi herself had hardly slept during that hectic, chaotic time, but he had put himself to even greater lengths. She had been in awe of him, but would no more have dared approach him for any reason than she would have intruded on the privacy of a holovid star. It had been seeing Q tumble from that height that had sparked her pity, had given her the confidence to try to help him. The difference between what he became after his second suicide attempt and what he had been at the defeat of the Borg was heartbreaking, and Naomi's only regret was that she'd been too much of a coward to approach him before. He had become a bedraggled, husk of a man, with nothing left of his bright shining self but his intellect and a desperate attempt at holding onto his facade... she could have cried. But things were better now. Still, it couldn't hurt to remind people of exactly what Q was and what he'd done. If it had been anyone else who'd saved them all from the Borg, they'd have declared a holiday. Naomi nodded decisively, coming back from her reverie. The day of the Borg defeat it was. Conveniently, that happened to be fairly close; less than a month away. If it hadn't have been, she supposed she would have had to make up some other excuse to pick a closer day. Of course, it was going to have to be a surprise party. If she told Q about it in advance, he'd refuse. There was no question about that. So he couldn't be allowed to find out. And it would have to be a large bash. Even as she didn't really like large parties with crowds of people pushing at her, Naomi knew that Q lived for that kind of thing. In fact, the biggest problem was almost certainly going to be making sure he was appropriately dressed for the occasion, to his own standards of appropriate, without giving away why it was that she wanted him to do so. But she'd find a way. She always did. **** Medellin looked over at Sanaharrar again, who was ranged lazily against the base of the couch, Q's hand resting lightly on her head. Medellin was not at all comfortable with the large felinoid. Not only was Sanaharrar an additional wrinkle to Q's already confusing psychological profile, she scared Medellin. And Medellin suspected Q knew that. But showing Q you were scared was not an effective tactic. Even Medellin was aware of that much. So she folded her hands in her lap and pretended Sanaharrar wasn't there. "Q, I specifically wanted to talk to you about infidelity." Q raised an eyebrow, not moving from his carefully arranged pose of non-concern. "I'm afraid I'm not interested, Nian." Medellin shook her head. "I know the incident with Naomi and Admiral Pelz must have hurt your feelings, and I wanted to talk to you about infidelity and why it happens." "Since nothing happened, I don't believe this is relevant." Medellin regarded him compassionately. "Denial is a healthy part of the acceptance process." Q narrowed his eyebrows. He couldn't stalk out without appearing to validate her ridiculous beliefs. He was forced to stay and listen. However, he was going to get her for this. "Infidelity is more than just a simple sexual act. It's also a breach of trust on the part of one member of the relationship. When you're in a relationship, a *healthy* relationship," Medellin qualified quickly, "...you have the right to expect that your partner be faithful to you and not be disloyal." Q studied his nails with apparent fascination. "And?" "And if that's not happening, then you need to take a good look at the reasons for it, and what you want to do with the relationship." "What relationship?" Medellin knew that Q was perfectly aware of who and what she was talking about. She ignored his question, and went on with her prepared speech. "This is the perfect opportunity for you and Naomi to come and see me together, to really explore the relationship between you. I warned you about this before; you absolutely must have a regard for the other person's point of view in order to maintain respect for each other and to keep the lines of communication open." "How enlightening!" Q said without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He stood up, Sanaharrar stretching as he rose. "I will be sure to keep your words in mind. You've solved all my problems, my dear Nian, and I thank you." He took her hand and kissed it before she could react, then glided elegantly out, followed by his large, bulky shadow. Medellin watched Q go, deeply disturbed. He might not be willing to admit that there were any problems in his and Naomi's relationship, but she knew that there were. Medellin was very concerned about what would happen to Q when the relationship broke apart, as it inevitably must, dissolved under the force of the tensions put upon it. There seemed to be nothing she could do. But she'd find something. In her own way, she did want to heal Q. He was her one great failure as a counsellor, and she didn't intend to let that continue. He needed help, and he was going to get it, whether he wanted it or not. **** Q stalked back to his quarters, long legs carrying him quickly through the corridors. For such an insignificant insipid little being, Medellin had an unusual knack for getting under his skin. He didn't know how she did it, but he hoped she wasn't giving lessons to Naomi. Naomi looked up as he came in, from where she was seated on the couch near the window. She smiled as she saw him. "How was your day, dear?" He scowled at her. "Terrible. And you wouldn't *believe* the traffic." Naomi uncurled her legs and stood up, walking over to him. "Hard day at the office? Boss giving you trouble again?" Q suspected he was being humored. But he didn't mind all that much. "I had to sell him to Orion slavers." "That happens," Naomi said, her level tone at odds with her dancing eyes and the indulgent smile on her face. "I don't suppose you could get them to take Farish as well?" She rested her hands on his chest, rising up on her toes, and kissed him in the hollow of his neck, regretting that she wasn't tall enough to actually kiss him without his full cooperation. "That wasn't on the list." "List?" Naomi asked quizzically, not moving away from him. He permitted the familiarity. "The list. 'Buy milk, take dog to vet, sell Farish to Orion slavers.'" Naomi's eyes sparkled. "Oh, yes. *That* list. I'm sorry, I forgot to make one out this morning." "Well, see that it doesn't happen again." "Never." Naomi tugged on Q, leading him into his bedroom. She pushed him to a sitting position on the bed, which he accepted with bad grace. "So, do you want to be seduced before dinner or after?" As Naomi took his hand and started peeling off his glove, Q looked down at her with disgruntlement. "As I don't want to have dinner, the question is meaningless." Naomi looked up him, smiling broadly. "Even better. We won't have to stop for something trivial like a meal." He glowered at her, as she went onto his other hand. "This is all a plot to get me to eat by presenting me with even more nauseating choices." Naomi set the gloves down on the bed, and stood between his knees, hands going to his throat to unbutton his collar. "You mistake me, sir. I'd be very happy to skip dinner and seduce you instead." "Humans," Q sniffed. "What *is* your endless fascination with this pointless act?" Naomi finished unbuttoning his tunic and stopped to look at him. "I'm overwhelmingly attracted to your gorgeous body and unable to help myself?" "Don't patronize me," Q snapped, angered by her mockery of him. He knew what he looked like, and attractive was not the word for it. "You haven't got the background for it." Naomi unthreaded his arms from the tunic and pulled it back off his shoulders. Underneath it, he was wearing yet another layer of clothes, one she wasn't going to invade his privacy to remove. When he was wearing his full, formal attire, in other words, anything he felt capable of meeting the public in, he was invariably also wearing a layer of padding underneath. Naomi had caught him at it, and he'd been devastated. Actually, he'd yelled at her, but it was the same thing. It was curious to her that Q was more sensitive about the many layers of protection he wrapped himself in to shield himself from the world than he was about nakedness. Naomi would have thought that he'd be more ashamed of his vulnerability, if anything at all. But she respected Q's need to shield himself from scorn. The only time she completely disrobed him, if he let her at all, was when she knew he was wearing the relatively casual clothing he let himself get away with when he knew only she would see him. "What kind of background would I need to patronize you?" Naomi asked, choosing not to reassert her opinion of him as being highly attractive to her. He didn't believe her anyway, no need to keep saying it and prejudice him against her. At least, no need to say it for another ten minutes at least. "One you haven't got," Q retorted feebly, standing up and stalking past her to his wardrobe. Naomi giggled, then left the room, giving him his privacy. When he finally came out, he was wearing a forest green robe over a royal blue tunic. As always, he was dazzling. Naomi would never have dreamed of wearing anything that formal even to work, and this was Q's idea of *casual* attire. Kind of made her rethink her bunny slippers. She looked at him from her seat at the table, nibbling on a cheese stick. "I decided to go with dinner, since I was hungry." "What a shock," he said dryly, seating himself grandly across from her. Naomi filled a plate with apple slices, chicken fingers and a broccoli and cheese combination and slid it over in front of Q. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" Q looked at the plate with a disdainful air, then picked up an apple slice. "You could do this all intravenously, you realize." "That wouldn't be any fun," Naomi said. "I'd miss out on the tastes, and the textures and the strawberries." Q finished off the piece of apple and picked up a chicken finger. "Why you'd want to experience this is beyond even my vast mental powers." "Oooh," Naomi said, grinning. "I've got to make a note of that. Something that's beyond even *you*? I can't believe it." Q looked grumpily at her as he ate the chicken finger. "The perversions of humans are endless." "Speaking of perversions..." "Let's not." "Oh, please..." Naomi said winningly. "Please?" "No." "Aww. You're no fun." Q took a fork and speared a piece of broccoli. "Fun? Is that what you call your demented pastime of stripping yourself of everything that distinguishes you from your animal counterparts and rolling around and making grunting sounds as if you had no higher intellectual functions at all?" "Yes." "Typical." Naomi grinned at him. "Are you saying you'd rather play cards after dinner?" "You cheat." "So do you." "Please. Cheating is something I'd never lower myself to." "So you're saying those cards *weren't* marked?" Q pushed back his empty plate. "All cards are marked. It would hardly be sporting to play with a blank deck. You're simply a bad loser." Naomi stood up, starting to clear away the mess. "I'd have been only too happy to lose if you'd agreed to play Strip Poker like I wanted." Q didn't move, just watched her with a proprietary air. "You are the single most oversexed human I have ever had the distinct nonpleasure of being acquainted with." Naomi grinned at Q, walking over to him. Sitting down, he was more of a height with her. She stepped between his legs, pressing herself closely to him, his face nearly at a level with her breasts. "And you love me for it, don't you?" His hands came up involuntarily, holding her at the waist, not daring to stray lower as some random impulse was demanding that they do. "Love? What a disgusting word." She reached a hand up and ran it through his hair, stroking his head gently. He sighed slightly, and she brought her other hand up, moving down his head to work on the taut muscles in his neck. He allowed that, his head resting more heavily on her, almost begging for her touch. Naomi lightly kissed the top of his head, her hands not straying from the tight muscles they were kneading. There were a number of things she could say to him, in response to his last barb, but she didn't want to give him a reason to move away from each other. He needed her, and she needed to be needed, didn't want anything more than to stand here rubbing his neck while he held her. For his part, Q was unconscious of anything but her hands on his neck. He hadn't been able to *ask* her to do this for him; that would have been entirely too humiliating, and would have given her too good of an idea of how much he needed it, needed her. But, until now, she hadn't seemed to pick up on his hints, which annoyed him no end. She was supposed to pay attention to him, was supposed to be the responsive one in this relationship. How was he going to get what he wanted if she didn't pay attention to these things? Her fingers found a particularly tense spot and worked at it, sending a wave of coolness down the overstressed muscle. Q moaned in unselfconsciousness pleasure. That felt so good. He didn't know what he'd done before he had her here. Just going without a backrub for a few days was excruciating torture for him now. She lifted her hands from his neck, and Q almost groaned with disappointment, disappointment which quickly turned to outrage. How dare she stop? He *needed* her. He was in agony here! Naomi stepped back a fraction and smiled at him when he lifted his face to her. "I have a treat for you. C'mon." She took his hand and led him into the bedroom. Q eyed the bed reluctantly. "I don't feel like being seduced." "Oh, I'm not going to seduce you," Naomi said. "Take off your clothes." He eyed her with disbelief. "Not going to seduce me? How stupid do you think I am?" "I don't think you're stupid at all," Naomi said, turning around and grabbed a tube of ointment from the table near the bed. "I got this after talking with Li. It's something for me to rub into your back. It won't hurt you, and hopefully it'll make you feel a whole lot better." Q raised an eyebrow to that, but really didn't want to argue too strongly against anything she might care to do to alleviate the horrible tension in his back. If his neck was bad, his lower back was catastrophic. However, he couldn't just give in. That would only encourage her to think he actually enjoyed this, and liked getting naked around her. His hands went to his robe. "This is all another ploy." "Oh, of course it is," Naomi said cheerfully, his words bothering her not at all. He was going along with her, and that was the important thing. "Although, if it were a sexual ploy, I would certainly have gotten something in a chocolate flavor." Q had his tunic off then, and paused, his hands at his waistband. "Do I want to know what perversity you're describing?" Naomi smiled wickedly. "Probably not. But I won't let that stop me." Q gave her one last long look, promising revenge if she should try something like that, and stripped off the rest of his clothes, to lie naked, face down on the bed. Naomi knelt next to him, spreading the ointment on her hands. "Now, this might burn a little..." she said, as she touched her hands to his back, "...but it won't hurt you. It's good for you." When she said it might burn, Q half-twisted, considering making a hasty escape, or at least some kind of protest. But then her hands were on his skin, soothing into the tense muscles of his back, and there was nothing he could do but sigh and give in to that absolutely essential touch. At first, her hands simply felt smoother than usual, gliding across his skin, working whatever it was into his back. But then the places she'd touched started to burn with a cool heat that he couldn't quite describe. Q panicked, and rolled over, almost catching Naomi in the mouth with his knee. She lost her balance, and sprawled over him. Q tried to sit up, but her lying there holding him down combined with his panic kept him from making any effectual move. "What's wrong?" Naomi asked. "That!" Q said, utterly shocked. "And what you did to my back! It's, it's *burning*." Naomi nodded, amused. "That's the idea. It's supposed to feel good, to help with loosening up your muscles. Is it working?" Q paused, caught between outrage, fear, and humiliation that he had once again overreacted to something basic to human existence. "If you mean, is it eating a hole into my back, then yes," he said acidly. "Good," Naomi said calmly, shifting slightly to make herself more comfortable, but not offering to move away from him. "*Good*? You heartless little fiend." Naomi's eyes sparkled. "Endearments will get you nowhere with me, Q." Then she sobered. "This is a very common lotion. Li assures me that it'll have no adverse effects on you, unless you try to eat it or rub it into your eyes. All it does is help relax your muscles. It's nothing special, nothing addictive, nothing harmful. It's very low-tech, which is why Li approved of it. Generally they take care of pain with hypos, but in your case..." Naomi's voice trailed off. She didn't want to make any accusations about his addiction or possible addiction to painkillers, but it was a well-established fact that Q had abused them. Of course, with a body as messed up as his, Naomi could understand why he'd thought it necessary. However, a pharmaceutical solution only covered up the underlying problems; it didn't solve them. A sinking feeling went through Q. Yes, once again he'd overreacted to something simple. To cover his shame, he asked, "So why haven't I heard of this before if everyone knows about it?" Naomi shrugged. "How often did you have backrubs before?" Q glared at Naomi. She knew the answer to that. He hadn't. All he'd had were extremely painful "adjustments" performed by Li or one of his assistant torturers. And one very different experience with Amy Frasier that Q would have preferred to forget entirely. Naomi waited for a moment for an answer, and when she didn't get one, assumed that Q was out of objections. She slid off of him, then tapped him on the side, indicating that he should roll over. With one last pointed stare, Q did, allowing her access to his back again. He regretted it almost immediately. The flow of air across his back made the cool/hot sensation even worse. He shuddered, and immediately Naomi's hands were on his back, smoothing down his spine, gentling him. Naomi felt his tension under her hands, not just the tension of tight muscles, but also the coiled tension of someone who was not particularly happy with where they found themself. She ran her hands lightly from his shoulders to his waist, trying to comfort him, wondering if this had really been such a bright idea. Q quivered under her hands. He couldn't take this any longer, couldn't take the... He paused in his thoughts to analyze the sensation. Actually, once you got used to it, it really wasn't all that bad. The coolness was dripping down into his muscles, getting at all the places that even Naomi, for all her deftness, couldn't get to. He flexed experimentally. His back still hurt, still felt painfully seized up in his lower back, but where she'd rubbed that horrible burning stuff, it actually felt looser. Not entirely better, but not nearly as painful either. He relaxed into the bed then, as much as he was capable of relaxing, and let her do what she wanted to him. Naomi felt that relaxation as a subtle lessening of the tension under her hands, and breathed a small sigh of relief. She knew that this *would* be a good thing for Q, if he'd accept it. If he hadn't accepted it, it could be the panacea for every ill, and it would still do him no good. She took the tube again, and rubbed more ointment into her hands before starting in on Q again. "That feels... incredible," Q said, voice slightly muffled by the pillow. Naomi used the heels of her hands to get at the much too tight muscles of his lower back. "Good. You're not supposed to feel bad all the time, you know." "A byproduct of being human," Q said lightly, before his tone turned dark. "Your whole existence is nothing but a long slide into decay and death. It's a wonder you don't all commit suicide as a race like the lemmings that you are, rather than face the utter meaninglessness of your petty lives." Naomi felt his muscles give slightly under her hands and was delighted. Too often all she could do to his lower back was smooth over the tension; it was simply too tight and spasmed for her to have any effect. But apparently, the ointment was helping. Q felt the muscle reluctantly relax, responding with something akin to fear. "What's that? Ahh. Do that again." "So something is worth living for, after all," Naomi said, amused, her hands returning to that spot. "Despite the futility of our lives." Q sighed as her fingers found the exact center of his pain and spread that cooling heat on it, relieving him of the awful sick tension he'd been dragging around with him for days now. What was she babbling about? "You have no concept for the word meaning. Hardly a surprise, since you are, after all, only human." "I try my best," Naomi said with a smirk, then got more serious as she attacked his spine. "Besides, meaning is where you find it. If you enjoy what you're doing with your life, what more meaning do you need?" Q snorted, then sighed again with pleasure as she loosened the muscles around his spine which were holding it too tightly and keeping it out of alignment. "And then you die, and what have you done with your life? *Enjoyed* yourself? What kind of statement is that to make?" "A pretty damn good one, I'd say. What kind of statement did you have in mind, 'I was miserable, but I built a few pyramids'?" Naomi emphasized her point by patting him on the shoulder. "I don't think so. Making a lasting physical monument is fine, but it's utterly pointless as a life statement unless you enjoyed doing it." "And you feel that a better life statement would be, 'Had a little sex, ate a lot of chocolate and died with a smile'?" Naomi stopped to consider that one. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" "As opposed to 'Mass murderer', yes." Naomi grinned, and dug more deeply into his shoulders, producing a small wince of pain from Q, who really was more tight than any normal person should be, or any person should have to be. Exchanging insults with Q was entertaining. She didn't know many people currently who she'd give a backrub to, but in her experience, the person being catered to usually just laid there and moaned. It was a boring experience from her point of view. However, this was fun. Naomi took a quick glance down the length of Q's naked body. And the view wasn't bad either. "Were you thinking of changing careers, then?" Naomi asked. "To become a mass murderer, I mean?" Q ignored that comment as entirely irrelevant. "How do you people stand it? Going on about your lives, knowing at any minute that it could be over?" Naomi didn't pause in her kneading of his shoulders. Compared to his lower back, they were almost loose and relaxed. Comparatively. "We ignore it completely and pretend that it doesn't matter." "Doesn't *matter*? Your whole race is engaged in self- delusion?" Naomi shrugged, hands moving up to his neck. "Can't speak for everyone, but I'd say that's a good way to put it. We're all going to die sometime. To obsess about it, or to let that impact my actions, well... I'd never get anything done for worrying, if I thought about it." "But you *do* think about it." Naomi stopped, sitting up, letting her hands rest lightly on his shoulders. "It scares me silly to think that someday there won't be anymore *me*, that something will happen and I just won't be. Thinking about it terrifies me." She shuddered involuntarily, feeling cold and frightened. Q couldn't see her expression. "You're a mere human. You have no concept of what terror is. You're *supposed* to cease existing. *I'm* Q. I was *supposed* to go on forever." The whole topic was too much for Naomi. She didn't want to talk about this, would prefer not even to think about it. Death was something she just had to handle; she didn't have any choice about it. Obsessing on the subject only drove her crazy. She dropped down beside Q, nudging him slightly. He rolled up on his side to look at her, and Naomi burrowed into his arms immediately, holding him tightly. If she'd asked him for comfort, Q would have derided her for childishness. If she'd *offered* comfort, he would have scorned her to hide his own weakness and need for it. But she wasn't asking him anything, just *there*, holding him. His arms came around her, and he dropped his face into her hair, drawing a certain foolish sense of security from having her close to him. Safely hidden from view, and sheltered from her own fears, Naomi spoke into his chest. "That's just the way things are. So, what else can you do but to be happy? Giving in and saying things are hopeless and there's no reason to do anything is stupid. Being miserable is even stupider. To try to find what happiness you can out of life is the only option that makes any sense." "Happiness? What a pitiful delusion," Q said, his voice soft, almost comforting. "Delusion, illusion, hallucination, whatever," Naomi said, her warm breath brushing his bare chest. "Life is but a dream, according to the old song..." "No singing!" Q said, alarmed. Naomi giggled slightly. "No singing," she promised, kissing him by way of sealing the bargain. "All you can deal with is what you see or think to be real. Personally, I'll leave it to the philosophers to try to divine the real nature of the universe." "They haven't got a clue," Q said grandly. "They're completely off track." "But even you, who knows so much about it, is unhappy," Naomi said quietly. "So there isn't much point to the knowledge." Q bowed his head further, almost brushing her cheek, tacitly acknowledging the truth of her words. "But *happiness*? Next you're going to say something about *love*." Naomi giggled at the disgusted tone in his voice. She pulled back slightly to look at him, dark head bent close to hers. "Actually, I would have said something about sex. Close, but not quite the same thing." Q was about to make a scathing retort to that, one laced with a cutting analysis of her fixation on sexuality, when Naomi reached up, laying a hand on his cheek, and kissed him. As soon as her lips touched his, Q was lost. He was lying here naked, pressed up against a desirable woman, and his body couldn't help having a sexual reaction to that. Naomi squirmed to get more of herself in contact with him, wishing she'd thought to take her clothes off first. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, feel his hands, his mouth on her breasts... she shuddered, clinging to him, already excited. His mouth lay chastely closed under hers, but Naomi wanted more. She parted her lips, her tongue darting out to lick his lips. Hesistantly, they parted, and she kissed him again, more deeply this time. Q groaned low in his throat as Naomi plundered his mouth. He'd forgotten about this variation. It was extremely disgusting, as almost everything about human sexuality was, exchanging saliva and pretending to like it, but even as he was intellectually repulsed by it, he found this kind of kissing to be exciting as well. The warm soft heat of her mouth reminded him of what it felt to have that on another part of him. Without his volition, he felt himself hardening against her, wanting this. Why had he chosen to be human? Why hadn't he chosen to be some sort of race that considered sex to be unnecessary? Naomi pulled away from him, sitting up to tug her blouse off, all the time conscious of his dark eyes on her. He didn't say a word, and Naomi was glad. Something cutting about her appearance would hurt her feelings at this point, even though insults were more or less automatic to Q. But the look in his eyes and the way his whole attention was centered on her more than made up for any perceived lack of verbal compliments. He was watching her as though she were the heart of his existence, something without which he couldn't go on living. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true, but Naomi felt it anyway, and it made her feel enormously happy. She squirmed about, pulling off her trousers in an undignified manner, letting Q think what he wanted about her grace or lack there of. It wasn't like she'd taken a class in this or anything. But he didn't say anything to her at all, just laid there, his eyes on her. Naomi laid back down next to him, flushed and triumphant. He trailed a lazy hand from her shoulder to her waist, and Naomi shivered, lost in his eyes. Q was making the first move, and she could get very, very used to this. Q, for his part, was relishing the feeling of control. This was so much easier than he had thought it would be. He'd been terrified of sex, he admitted to himself. He'd deliberately avoided it, even when his body demanded it, because he was afraid he'd be bad at it and make a fool out of himself. Q knew his appearance was still shoddy, especially when he was naked and entirely vulnerable, but Naomi had seen him this way any number of times and never criticized him, so he felt relatively safe. He didn't believe that she found him to be good-looking. She was deluded on that account; there could be no question of that. However, it worked in his favor, so he shouldn't complain. He'd avoided sex, and anything that even looked like sex, with a great passion, fearing his own desires more than anything else. The Amy Frasier incident had only seemed to confirm the wisdom of his decision. And what had happened with Harry did not even bear thinking about. But with Naomi, everything was different, and sex wasn't nearly all that hard. Q avoided thinking about *why* it wasn't all that hard with Naomi. She cared about him, didn't have any desire to make fun of him, and was willing to put up with all of his little clumsinesses and idiosyncracies. That was the truth, but Q preferred to think of it as him having experience and skill. After all, if these devolved monkey creatures could do it, how difficult could it be for an advanced being like himself? Naomi returned Q's gesture, reached out to him, and stroked his chest lightly, not *quite* tickling him. Q took her wrist, and replaced her arm by her side. Naomi looked up into his eyes, realizing that he meant to take the lead this time entirely. She shivered again, fine hairs raising all along her body. This was going to be good. He leaned over her, taking control of the kiss, and she gave in, sinking back against the bed. His hand came up to her breast, palm cupping it, while his thumb played idly with her nipple. Naomi groaned, the sensation painfully ticklish and yet pleasurable all at the same time. Naomi bit Q's lip, very gently, to let him know that his teasing was driving her crazy. He pulled back then to look at her. Why was she always biting him? "You bit me!" "And what you going to do about it?" Naomi asked challengingly, teasing him. His hand drifted lower on her body, one fingertip tracing a circle around her stomach, and then coming to rest on her hip. "Patience. You'll find out." Naomi trembled under that cool gaze, willing to let him do anything he wanted to her, trusting him entirely. An elegant, long-fingered hand made its way down her hip, touching her inner thigh. Naomi shifted to let him inside, opening herself up to him. Q watched her reactions carefully, a secret delight hidden on his face. She was so open right now, so *comfortable* in the knowledge that she was going to get what she wanted. It was going to be so very much fun to see her lose that composure and beg for what she needed. As one long finger dipped inside her, Naomi moaned. Yes, this was right, this was what she needed. She dug her heels into the bed, willing him to continue. But he didn't. He resumed his slow stroking of her skin, hand brushing down her thigh to her knee. Naomi opened her eyes and looked at him. What kind of game was he playing? Q was totally fixated on her knee, watching his hand skim over it, and then under, lightly tickling the sensitive skin beneath. At first it was nothing, just a light caressing sensation, but as he refused to move on, the feeling grew more intense. Naomi flexed her leg, trying to keep from jerking it away and scratching the spot, but it did no good. Q was relentless. Naomi twitched, trying to control the horrible crawling sensation, but it was useless. Naomi tried to sit up, to struggle with him. "I can't do this," she said, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "Pl... Please don't tickle me." Q looked away from his hand and directly at Naomi, who was biting her lip to keep from howling with laughter. "No." Unable to do anything else, Naomi gave into him and into the tickling sensation, shaking all over, the tickling coming very close to making her kick Q. After an endless time, he stopped, his hand moving back up, and Naomi lay there trembling, feeling weak and watery. Anyone else she would have struggled against, but she couldn't, not with Q, not without possibly hurting him. And that made it all so much worse, knowing she *had* to give in. Of course, in this context, "worse" also meant "better". His hand trailed along the inside of her thigh, and Naomi tensed, waiting, expecting him to finally stop teasing. And he did. His hand moved inside, and she sighed with the sweet pain of it. Being tickled had only increased her need for this, and every movement of his hand was a delicate torment. Naomi twisted under his hand, unable to keep from moving, legs shaking. Through the haze of pleasure, Naomi was conscious of Q watching her, his hooded gaze arousing her further. Just when it seemed something was about to happen, Q pulled away, and Naomi almost cried with frustration. Not *again*. This was all very stimulating in fantasy, but in real life, it was driving her crazy, making her think strange thoughts about holding him down and forcing herself on him. On second thought, maybe not so awful after all. She looked up at him, a small smile playing across her face as she thought about holding *him* down and having her wicked way with him. She was a lot smaller than him, so normally she'd be physically incapable of overpowering someone his size. But Q didn't seem to know how large he was. It could happen. Q didn't know what she was thinking, only saw the smile. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked darkly. If she'd begged then, he would have relented, would have given her what she so obviously wanted. "Greatly," Naomi said, thinking of tickling him until *he* begged for mercy. Q smiled evilly. "Fine. If you like it so much, why don't we continue this little game?" Naomi was given no opportunity to respond, as Q leaned over her, mouth going to her breast suckling on her nipple. He'd certainly picked up on her weak spots, Naomi thought dazedly as his tongue teased the tip of her nipple. Her fingers clutched the bedspread, clawing at that covering, trying to remain in control. But it was no use. His teeth closed on her, not nearly hard enough and Naomi moaned low in her throat. She needed him to touch her, couldn't take any more of this teasing. It had all been too much, and while she was willing to concede his skill here and anywhere he wanted, she couldn't do this any longer. But Q was merciless. This was all rather amusing to him. Reducing an otherwise intelligent, capable woman into a quivering heap of jelly was a diverting pastime that had never quite occured to him before. Oh, it was still revoltingly physical, but there was a certain entertainment factor here. His hand moved down her overheated, overstimulated body and she nearly whimpered with relief. Finally. Finally, he was going to go through with this. She nuzzled against his shoulder, nearly mindless with need. And then his hand was between her legs, his fingers on her, and Naomi almost cried at the sudden stab of pain. Not a sweet, wanting pain now, but a real pain, intense with the sharpness of having been denied for too long. With a rapidity that frightened her, the desire she had been feeling, now frustrated, backlashed through her body. She wasn't going to be able to release it, there was no way she could give it the outlet it needed, not when every touch of his hand was sending a jolt of pure pain through her. Naomi batted feebly at his hand, "Stop that." Q leaned over her, not having picked up on the change. "Stop? I don't think you want me to." She couldn't feel anything but the pain and the need. The frustration was jangling down her nerve endings and she hated him with a sudden intense passion for doing this to her. "Yes. I do," Naomi said crisply. When he didn't move immediately, it was too much for her overworked nerves which were screaming, "Throw him on the bed and fuck him!" Naomi shoved at him. "Just leave me alone!" Q withdrew, more than a little hurt, slightly panicked inside at the way she was behaving and covering it all up with a mask of indifference. "Alone? How narcissistic of you." Rationally, Naomi knew that Q wasn't rejecting her with his slight withdrawal, but she wasn't thinking rationally at the moment. All she knew was that he was the cause of her feeling like this, and she needed to strike out at something, anything. "Go away! I hate you! You did this to me and I hate you!" She pushed at him again, entirely too hard, and Q fell off the edge of the bed. He sat there on the floor for a moment, looking up at her, startled. And then he drew his dignity around himself and stood up. "Sex has obviously deranged your mind." Q stalked out. Once out of the room, Q was at a loss. All of his clothes were in there, and he wasn't about to face Naomi again. Not like that. His entire body hurt. Partly from when she'd pushed him onto the floor and partly due to... Q didn't even want to think about it. That traitorous piece of flesh was throbbing and he hurt. Ideas came to mind as to how to resolve that problem, but he dismissed all of them, choosing instead to think about Naomi. This was all her fault. He'd trusted her, let her beguile him into sex, and look what it had gotten him! On second thought, he didn't want to look. Q strode over to the replicator and quickly sorted through the meager options available to find a new outfit. He had to get out of there. He couldn't stay here anymore, not as vulnerable as he felt. When Naomi finally emerged, Q was gone. And, although she waited, he didn't come back. -the end-