========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: At the Center of Things -- Chap 1, 1/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:33:47 GMT

From:
	ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
	REP: At the Center of Things -- Chap 1, 1/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)


Title:  At the Center of Things
Author: Ruth Gifford (ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com)
Series: TNG 
Content Codes:  P/Q, bdsm  
Rating: N-17 for graphic m/m sex and bdsm
Summary: The sequel to "His Beloved Pet" finds Jean-Luc 
Picard and Q trying to work out the parameters of their  
complex relationship. 

I'm reposting the first four chapters of this and then (over 
the next few days) they will be followed by three brand new 
chapters.  For the sake of brevity in all this posting, this 
story will be referred to as ACT in the headers of 
subsequent postings. 

This is a sequel to "His Beloved Pet," which was 
written by Ruth Gifford and atara stein.  If you 
haven't read that yet, stop, do not pass Go, well . . . 
you know the drill. HBP is available at GiffStein 
Productions <http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/> You 
*can* try to read this without reading that one first, 
but, I don't try very hard to explain what has gone 
before.   Chapters 1-4 can also be found at GiffStein
and soon Chapters 5-7 will be archived there as well.

On to the thanks and other blather you've come to 
expect from me.  There are several people I couldn't 
have written this without.   Above all others is, of 
course, my very own one true love, atara.  As always 
there is a very sincere dedication, but beyond that I 
have to thank her for her beta-reading, encouragement, 
and the thankless task of proofreading.  

My beta reader for the first chapters, Jeanita Danzik, 
and my beta reader for the later chapters, Varoneeka, 
both deserve my thanks for keeping me on my toes.  I 
should also thank all  the people who wrote to me and asked 
about when I was going to write more.  I was blocked 
for a while, but your encouragement meant a lot to me.

Random thanks:  To the bands, musicians, and writers of 
lyrics who gave me just the right words for each 
chapter header, and the inspiration and motivation to 
keep writing.  To the Okudas, and everyone else 
connected with the Star Trek Omnipedia, which lives in 
my CD-ROM drive on a permanent basis. As always, to 
Patrick Stewart, and John deLancie for pushing the 
envelope as hard as they could.

Technical notes.  ***///*** indicates a dream or 
flashback.  // indicates the written word.  The section 
breaks in each chapter occur for technical versus 
artistic reasons. 

Star Trek is the property of Paramount.  This version 
of it is the property of me.  johnny is the property of Q (ooops,
I'm getting ahead of myself there).  I give my permission to 
archive this in the official newsgroup archives (both 
ascem and afq), and in R'rain's Star Trek Slash 
Archive.

And so, on with the show.  The first scene takes place 
several hours after the end (discounting the epilogue 
of course) of His Beloved Pet.

Thanks 
Ruth Gifford
ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com







At the Center of Things
by Ruth Gifford
(c) 1997

For atara, who has taught me that submission requires 
strength and deserves respect.  She is at the center of 
my life, and I love her more than mere words can ever 
convey.

Chapter One
Off to a Rough Start


"You could hold me
Maybe you could show me
How to trust
Cause you see 
I have been hurt before 
Though I don't want to be hurt no more
This feeling inside of me
Is strong in me
Is strong in me
Could I tell you who I am
And would you really want to know
What it's been for me
Just to trust and to believe

I'd like to get next to you
Whenever you wanted to
I'd like to get next to you
Whenever you wanted to"

"Next to You"
Toni Childs



Jean-Luc Picard murmured in his sleep as he shifted to 
find a new position.  His lover watched as the captain 
rolled from his side onto his stomach and settled back 
into deeper sleep.  The move had shoved the covers down 
around Picard's waist and Q shook his head at the sight 
of Picard's back.  *I'm *vicious*,* the omnipotent 
entity thought.  He was somewhat amazed at the feelings 
that washed over him now.  Tenderness--that made sense; 
his lover's back was criss-crossed with welts and 
bruises, and Q had every reason to know that Picard's 
rear looked even worse.  Even Q's feeling of pride made 
sense.  After all, Picard had asked (begged actually) 
for the beating; surrendering to Q was a way for the 
fiercely independent Human to prove his love.  *And, of 
course, he *is* a masochist,* Q thought wryly.  *He 
likes the pain.*  But Q also felt awe; he was amazed 
that Picard could take as much as he had, amazed that 
after all the emotional pain--over two years of  it--
Picard could still let down his barriers enough to 
trust Q.  *Oh Johnny, I just hope I'm worthy of your 
trust.*  From anyone else that thought might have been 
a little over-the-top, the kind of things lovers tend 
to think, particularly at the beginning of a 
relationship.   For Q, however, it was a genuine worry.  
He had no experience with love; in fact, it had taken 
him a truly absurd length of time to realize that what 
he felt toward Picard *was* love.  Only the sight of 
Picard dying from injuries sustained in an explosion 
had finally made Q realize how important this fragile 
Human was to him.  

Now Q was struck by a truly terrible thought.  *He got 
hurt in the line of duty; he would have died if I 
hadn't saved him.  He *will* die someday; given his 
line of work, it's amazing that he's lasted as long as 
he has.*  Extremely troubled by this, Q reached out and 
put his hand lightly on Picard's shoulder.  *What's 
wrong with me?  I feel like . . . what do I feel like?*  
He had been spending a lot of time in his Human form 
lately, but he had never had the physical feeling that 
he felt now.  His chest felt like there was a heavy 
weight on it, and his throat seemed to have closed 
around a lump the size of a fist.  It was only when the 
first tear worked its way out of his eye that he 
realized what was happening.  *I'm crying?  That's 
ridiculous!*  He hadn't even cried when he was stuck in 
this form without his powers, condemned to mortality by 
his own race.  Of course, if he wanted to, he could 
stop the tears that kept welling up, could choke down 
the sob that was rising in his throat . . .  In spite 
of himself, his hand tightened on Picard's shoulder.

"Tell me."  The baritone voice that spoke was gentle, 
and hardly sounded like someone who had been fast 
asleep seconds ago.  Picard rolled over and looked up 
at Q, and the sight of the genuine concern on his face 
was too much.  Burying his face in his hands, Q sobbed.

Picard sat up carefully, trying to ignore the twinges 
of pain that occurred every time he shifted his weight.  
Wondering if Q would allow it, he reached out and tried 
to pull the sobbing entity into his arms.  To his 
surprise, his lover offered no resistance, and Picard 
held him close, trying to figure out what was wrong.  
*This is not something I *ever* expected to have 
happen,* he thought.  He gently stroked Q's back and 
waited to see if Q would say anything.  "Tell me," he 
said again when Q just continued to cry.

"You're . . . *mortal*," Q said.  "Jean-Luc . . . 
you're . . . going . . . to . . . die."  He was 
beginning to sound more than a little hysterical and 
Picard sighed.

*If I were to fall in love with a mayfly,* the captain 
thought, *maybe I'd understand.  But I need to make 
*him* understand me, or this will never work.*  When he 
spoke aloud, his voice was as gentle as he could make 
it.  "Yes I will.  Maybe even today."

"No!"

"Yes.  I'm *Human*, Q, and we die."  A thought occurred 
to him.  "*You* were the one who reminded me of the 
importance of living in the 'now.'  You were right."  
He brushed his lips across Q's hair.  "You're always 
right, remember?"  He allowed himself to sound somewhat 
patronizing, hoping that anger would help Q think a 
little more clearly.  

"Oh . . . of course," Q said, his voice miserable with 
self-loathing.  "It was . . . so *right* . . . of me to 
. . . take Q's dare . . . to hurt you . . . the way I . 
. . I did."  Picard sighed; Q seemed determined to 
wallow in self-pity.  While Picard could certainly 
understand the impulse, he was more than a little 
surprised to see Q acting like this.  The problem was 
that he had no idea of how to deal with Q in this 
state.  It was all very well to talk about living in 
the now, but he doubted that the word "now" meant the 
same thing to Q as it did to him.  There was also the 
fact that he was having some difficulty feeling sorry 
for Q.  While Picard had decided to take the emotional 
risk of letting Q back into his life, the pain he had 
lived with during the last two years could not be 
ignored.  In a way, and Picard couldn't help but feel a 
little guilty about this, it was rather gratifying to 
see Q show a little vulnerability.  He suddenly had an 
insight into his own emotional state as Q continued to 
huddle in his arms.  He had only let Q come back once 
he had realized that he had some semblance of emotional 
control over the omnipotent entity.  Only once Jean-Luc 
had known that his rejection of Q had actually hurt Q, 
could he accept Q back into his life.

*Oh God, I'm petty,* Picard thought shaking his head.  
*I love him.  Why can't that be enough?*  His own words 
of a week ago came back to him; "sometimes, Q, love 
isn't enough."  Because he had to say *something*, he 
sighed.  "Q, this is pointless.  You knew when you . . 
. you knew this afternoon that I was mortal.  Hell, you 
knew it when you saved my life."  He pulled back 
slightly to try to meet his lover's eyes.  "You have a 
choice; you can spend all our time together mourning my 
mortality, or you can do what I do."

"Which is?" Q asked.  Picard saw the faint beginnings 
of a frown furrow Q's brow.

"Ignore it."

"Oh *that's* productive," Q said sarcastically.

"Well," Picard snapped, feeling his patience unravel.  
"*I* didn't waste two years of our time!"  *There, that 
ought to do it,* he thought.  It did *something*, but 
not at all what Jean-Luc had expected.  Q's face 
crumpled up and he started crying again.  *Oh merde!  
This is hopeless!  Why didn't I keep my damned mouth 
shut?*

"I . . . know . . ." Q sobbed.  "Oh . . . Jean-Luc . . 
.  I'm so . . . sorry . . ."

Picard decided to say nothing.  He pulled Q close again 
and just held him, rocking back and forth slightly. 
After several long  moments, Jean-Luc tried again. 
"Shhh . . ." he murmured.  "I didn't mean to hurt you, 
Q . . ."  Q's sobs were dying down.  "Hush, mon amour . 
. ."  Picard whispered into Q's dark hair.  "I'm here, 
love . . . right here with you . . . it's all right 
love . . ."

Q felt the ache slowly leave his chest as Picard's 
voice rolled over him.  He had wanted this, he suddenly 
realized.  He had wanted to be here in Jean-Luc's arms, 
listening to his lover reassure him.  Part of him was 
shocked; how could he *need* anyone, let alone a mere 
mortal, this much?  But hearing Picard call him "love" 
brought back that feeling of having come home.  When he 
spoke, the words that came out surprised him.  "Please 
. . . Jean-Luc . . . don't . . . don't send me away.  
Please . . ."

"Send you . . . Q, it would . . . I . . . couldn't 
possibly . . ."  To Q's surprise, Picard's voice 
trailed off raggedly.  He pulled back to see Picard 
staring at him.  "I *love* you," Jean-Luc said, and Q 
clung to the words.  Then Picard did something that 
shocked Q even more.  Grabbing his lover's hand, Picard 
held it against his own cheek.  "Go ahead," he 
whispered roughly, and Q could tell that he was 
terrified, but determined.  "See for yourself."  Picard 
let his own hand fall to his side, and closed his eyes.  
There was no way that Q could pretend that he didn't 
know what Picard wanted, and once more his awe of Jean-
Luc's trust welled up.  Picard had always hated the 
fact that Q was able to read his mind.  For him to 
offer the chance at a moment like this meant the world 
to Q.  Cupping Picard's cheek, he took a deep breath.

"Thank you," he whispered.  Then he went in, slowly, 
carefully, looking only for the feelings that centered 
around himself.  There was still some distrust and 
anger, but not as much as he would have expected.  He 
read the thoughts of a moment ago; how like Jean-Luc to 
feel guilty about having the ability to hurt his lover.  
Q couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips.  
*You're a better man than I, Johnny,* he thought 
privately.  In the midst of all these peripheral 
thoughts however, were need and love blazing like a 
beacon across the landscape of Picard's mind.  Those 
feelings had been walled off and denied for a time, but 
they had never really gone away.  If Picard was no 
longer quite so blindly trusting, and no longer had the 
almost religious awe of Q that he had once had, well, 
in Q's opinion that was all for the better.  What was 
important was that to himself, Jean-Luc felt complete, 
more *himself* than he had ever felt.  He was taking 
the risk he had taken because he literally felt that he 
could not live without Q.  Picard also *had* to 
surrender, because, as Q had realized dimly earlier, it 
was the only way that he could covey the depth of his 
love for Q.  It was also something that was just a part 
of Jean-Luc (and Q didn't bother to delve any deeper to 
figure out why), this need to submit, but only to 
someone who was worthy of that submission.  The 
contradiction, that this man who needed so much to 
command also needed to serve, delighted Q, who loved 
contradictions.  To find himself at the center of this 
burning hunger to *belong*, to be owned, made Q aware 
of his own contradictory needs.  

And so, tears sliding down his cheeks, Q did something 
he had *never* done, even with the few lovers he'd had 
among his own race.  Carefully, gently (lest he injure 
Picard with an onslaught of information no Human could 
grasp), he let down the iron inner barriers maintained 
against all for millennia.  It took time, and more than 
once Q froze, fighting his culturally ingrained fear of 
vulnerability, but Picard remained still and patient, 
sensing that what was happening was of vital 
importance.

It began slowly, like a dim light in the distance, but 
then the feelings came in faster, and Jean-Luc felt his 
mind working as it stretched to understand someone 
else's feelings and emotions.  There was fear, a fear 
that only now made sense, as he realized just how much 
he *could* hurt Q, and how awful Picard's mortality 
seemed to his omnipotent lover.  He understood, even if 
only a little, what Q's life had been like, an 
existence that seemed unbelievably bleak and dull when 
looked back on through the hindsight of Q's new-found 
feelings.  And those feelings--Jean-Luc had never been 
loved liked this, had never been *needed* this much, he 
was certain of it.  It washed over him, almost drowning 
him with its intensity.  There was an almost greedy 
quality to Q's feelings; he *did* need to conquer, he 
*needed* Picard's submission as a reassurance that 
Jean-Luc loved him.  Picard realized that his very 
willingness to belong to Q, made things both easier and 
more difficult for a being who had never had to work 
for anything as he had worked (and would continue to 
have to work) to deserve Picard's submission.  This 
was, in fact, another fear of Q's, that he couldn't 
change enough, that he would only end up hurting the 
man he loved.  He was terrified that someday, Picard 
would say "Stop!" and really mean it.  But there was 
confidence, and determination as well, to not only be 
worthy, but to see that *Jean-Luc* was worthy of the 
love of a Q.  

For the first time during this timeless exploration of 
one another's feelings, Q spoke, if only 
telepathically.  *If *I* have to prove myself worthy, 
so Jean-Luc, do *you*.*

*Test me,* Picard sent back instantly, knowing that Q 
could read the sincerity behind the thought.  *That was 
the first thing I ever asked of you* (and Q had a flash 
of Picard standing in the courtroom nine years ago 
saying "Then test us, Your Honor."), *and now I mean it 
even more than I did then.  Hurt me . . .  push my 
limits . . . train me . . . force me to respect you . . 
. and if you can, then . . . you have me . . . all of 
me . . .*

*Ah, but Johnny, you know that the more I do that, the 
more *I* will respect and need *you*.*

Amusement radiated out of Jean-Luc.  *Ah ha!  It's the 
old question in all that . . . literature of mine.  Who 
controls? . . . who calls the shots? . . . the Master . 
. .* and for the first time there was hesitation, while 
Picard fought briefly with himself, * . . . or the 
slave.*  

*Maybe we both do . . . and yet, maybe neither of us 
does.  I have a feeling it's going to be . . . 
interesting trying to figure it out.*

*I doubt we ever will,* Picard replied, and Q was 
amused to hear his trademark dry delivery 
telepathically.

"I doubt we ever will, *Sir*," Q said aloud.  Even 
though he knew that it was safe, even though he knew 
that this connection had been utterly necessary at this 
point, Q still had to back off now.  He felt too 
exposed and raw, and the lessons of his upbringing told 
him that exposure of this kind was a dangerous thing.  
Hoping Picard would understand (and relived that as he 
gently closed their link, a flash of understanding 
*did* cross Jean-Luc's mind), Q moved back to the 
physical world.

To his surprise, Picard did not immediately repeat the 
words.  Instead, the captain snorted slightly and 
crossed his arms across his chest.  Q grinned, a wicked 
grin.  Jean-Luc had never really fought him, although 
just this afternoon, he had deliberately set himself up 
to be knocked down.  But *this* was pure 
insubordination, and Q knew that Picard wanted him to 
react in the expected manner.  *But I don't like doing 
the expected, Johnny,* Q thought to himself, *and I'm 
not going to let you manipulate me like that.*  He 
shrugged and stretched back out on the bed.

End 1/5
-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)

========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: ACT Chap 1, 2/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:34:03 GMT


From:
	ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
	REP: ACT Chap 1, 2/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)	


At the Center of Things
Chapter One
2/5
disclaimers in 1/1


Picard shook his head.  *Oh,* he thought, amused, *now 
I'm supposed to beg.*  Unknowingly mirroring Q's 
thoughts, he smiled inwardly.  *I'm *not* going to do 
what I'm supposed to do.*  Moving suddenly and swiftly, 
he had Q pinned to the bed before the startled entity 
could react.  "Are you going to fight fair?" he asked, 
not even breathing hard.

"Moi?"  Q didn't struggle, but suddenly Picard felt 
fingertips teasing the insides of his thighs.  Doing 
his best to ignore the situation, he began to wrestle 
Q's arms above his head.  Q, in turn, ignored what 
Jean-Luc was doing, figuring that his Human form was 
undoubtedly strong enough to break Picard's hold 
whenever he wanted to.  He continued telekinetically 
teasing his lover, adding the sensation of a new set of 
fingertips moving lazily across Picard's ass.  Even 
omnipotent beings can't remember everything however, 
and Q had forgotten a rather important recent creation 
of his.  Picard moved again, straddling Q's chest as he 
reached for . . .

"What the fuck?!"  The words weren't even all the way 
out of Q's mouth when he felt the heavy leather close 
around his wrist.  He twisted, but discovered that 
physical strength needed leverage and that, having 
depended on physical strength all his life, Picard had 
the advantage.  The was a *snick* as the lock closed on 
the wrist cuff and Q had to decide what to do.  Should 
he let Jean-Luc get away with it or should he use his 
powers to get out?  Then again, if he got Picard worked 
up enough, maybe Picard would voluntarily let him out.  
So he fought back with mortal strength only, while at 
the same time continuing his tease.  

Picard gritted his teeth as the fingers that had been 
roaming his thighs moved inward and upward to slide 
lightly along his cock.  He did his best to ignore the 
maddeningly delicate touch as he wrestled Q's other 
wrist into the second cuff.  Deciding to fight fire 
with fire, he suddenly bent his head and began running 
his tongue over one of Q's nipples, letting his fingers 
toy with the other one.  His actions were rewarded with 
a sharp gasp from his lover, and, encouraged, he 
brought his teeth into play, as his fingers pinched the 
other nipple harder.  

They remained at this balance of power for a short 
time, but Jean-Luc began to realize that if he didn't 
act fast, those fingers were going to drive him crazy.  
Abandoning Q's chest, he maneuvered himself further 
down, ending up half-kneeling between Q's legs.  
Reaching out, he slid a firm hand along Q's cock, 
deciding that delicacy was out of the question for now.  
Q had apparently decided the opposite; the invisible 
fingertips kept their touch light.  Of course that 
wasn't all he did, one of the fingers that had been 
tracing its delicate way around Picard's ass suddenly 
began teasing his anus.  Jean-Luc allowed a moan to 
escape, and then fought back the only way he could.  
*Like riding a bicycle,* he thought with a smile as he 
bent his head.  Once more disdaining a teasing 
approach, he slid his mouth down over Q's cock, sucking 
hard.

"Ohhh . . ." Q moaned.  He had forgotten how much he 
liked the feel of Jean-Luc's mouth around him.  And 
now, damn him, Picard had brought his tongue into play 
as well.  *Why did I encourage him to get so good at 
this?*  Q clung to his pride however, refusing to use 
his powers to dampen his growing arousal.  Instead he 
suddenly stepped up his telekinetic stimulation.

Picard moaned around Q's cock as a warm oily hand began 
sliding up and down his cock in just the right rhythm.  
At the same time, two fingers moved easily into his 
ass.  He responded by shifting his position.  Instead 
of fighting the invisible hands, he accommodated them, 
moving into the familiar position of knees and elbows, 
while not stopping the attention he was paying to Q's 
erection.  As he felt himself getting closer to an 
orgasm, he oh-so-gently scraped his teeth along the 
underside of Q's cock, while at the same time cupping 
one hand firmly around Q's balls.

Completely taken by surprise, Q let go; he really 
*couldn't* help it.  Jerking his wrists against the 
cuffs, he uttered a long groan of ecstasy as he 
abandoned himself to the orgasm that washed over him.  
When it was over, Jean-Luc sat up.  Smiling 
triumphantly as he caught his breath, the captain said, 
"a little distracted . . . were we?"  Q realized that 
he had stopped his telekinetic tease.  Q pride was one 
thing, but enough was enough, opening the locks took no 
time at all.  

Sitting up, the entity spoke as he rubbed his wrists.  
"Down!"  He snapped his fingers and then pointed to the 
floor.  Picard didn't hesitate or fight this time.  
Having made his point, he was now quite willing to 
surrender.  He moved quickly, sliding off the bed to 
land on his knees on the floor.  Clasping his hands 
behind his back, he spread his knees and waited.  To 
his surprise, Q just looked at him for a moment.  Jean-
Luc gulped slightly; what was Q thinking of doing?  
Then his lover shook his head, and reached down to grab 
his arm.  "Get up here, Johnny.  You won . . . this 
time." 

"Yes Sir," was the demure reply.  Q chuckled as his 
lover climbed back into bed.  Jean-Luc smiled at him, a 
wicked little smile that made Q catch his breath.

"What *is* it about you?" the entity asked, pulling 
Picard close.

Picard laughed softly.  "My high pain threshold, 
maybe?"

"Show me," Q ordered.  "Roll over and show me your 
ass."

Picard caught his breath as he obeyed.  God, he'd 
forgotten how hard this was, half kneeling like this 
while Q inspected his welts and bruises.  He moaned as 
Q's fingers found and pinched at a rather large bruise.  
Those fingers were through, finding and teasing each 
mark and welt, and Picard got even more aroused.  He 
shifted slightly, arching his back, and sliding his 
knees apart.  "Slut," Q said mockingly.  Picard moaned 
in humiliation, but he didn't alter his position.  
"Greedy boy, you want it, don't you?"

"Yes Master," Picard replied.  And oh, he did want it, 
even though he'd been well-fucked a few hours ago.  
"Please?"

"Please what, boy?"  Q shivered at the sight of Jean-
Luc on his knees and elbows, begging for it.  It was 
such a heady feeling, watching his lover surrender to 
this overwhelming need, and knowing that he, Q, was the 
catalyst for that surrender.  No one had ever *needed* 
Q like this and the entity felt a strong wave of love 
roll over him.  Jean-Luc's next words, while not 
unexpected, or even very original, just added to the 
scene.

"Please fuck me, Master."

Remembering Picard's love of the ritual aspects of  
their scenes, and deciding that they were both ready 
for the next step, Q kept his voice cool as he replied.  
"Try it again, pet.  Does the phrase 'formal voice 
training' mean anything to you?"

Formal voice training . . . Picard tried to remember 
what that meant.  He was already calling Q Master, but 
there was more he would have to do.  "Please Master, 
please fuck your boy."  He was pleased that his voice 
didn't shake; it was harder than he'd expected.  He 
knew that he wasn't supposed to refer to himself as 
"I", but he wasn't entirely sure what else was 
required.

"Hmmm . . ." Q murmured.  "Not bad for a beginner, 
johnny.  However, you have some studying to do."

"Yes Master," Picard replied.  "Please Master, may your 
slave make a request?"

"I'll listen, boy."

"Please Master."  Picard was beginning to find the 
cadence required.  "Would you consent to  training your 
slave?"

"What kind of training?" Q asked.  "Voice training?"

"No Master," Picard replied, meaning every word 
although he knew he was getting in deep  here.  
"Please, Sir, train your . . . boy to serve you, to be 
the slave that his Master wants him to be."

*Such a gift,* Q thought.  *And such a responsibility.  
If I train him to be a slave, I have to learn how to be 
a master.  Oh, clever Johnny, very clever.  I'll do it 
of course, but then, I'll do anything.*  It was a hard 
thing to admit, even privately, just how far he would 
go for Jean-Luc.  It was, in a way, even harder to 
admit that this was something he wanted, and yes 
*needed* as much as Jean-Luc wanted and needed it.  But 
he couldn't help it, the thought of working Jean-Luc 
over, of going through the whole traditional series of 
lessons, of perfecting his close to perfect lover, was 
unbelievably exciting.  *I'll have to find some time 
and place to show him in public when the time comes.*  
He smiled at the thought, and moved off the bed, 
conjuring up dark leather pants, a black silk shirt and 
a pair of heavy leather boots.  "The proper position 
for a request is deep obeisance."  Picard moved off the 
bed quickly, folding himself into the required pose, 
forehead inches away from Q's boots.  *Oh Johnny, don't 
let me mess this up again; I *need* you too much.*

"Please Master, will you train your slave?"  Although 
he knew the answer would be yes, Picard still trembled 
slightly as he waited.  What if Q had only done this 
before because it was a way to keep Picard off balance?  
What if Q didn't really want this or even him?  *Don't 
be an idiot, Jean-Luc, you *know* he wants you; he 
showed you that much.  He even needs to see  me like 
this.*  Still Q didn't answer and Jean-Luc bit his lips 
and tried not to clench his fists.  He reached inside 
himself for that patience he was known for, accepting 
that it was Q's . . . his Master's decision, and that 
his own wants, needs and desires had nothing to do with 
it. *He's my Master, and it's for him to decide.*  He 
relaxed a little then, and waited.

Q saw the barely perceptible shift of Picard's posture, 
as Jean-Luc accepted his position.  "Good boy," he said 
softly.  "Kneel up, and look at me."  Jean-Luc obeyed, 
placing his hands behind his back and spreading his 
knees.  "This is *real*," Q continued.  "It's not a 
game to me and I won't let it be one to you, 
understand?"

"Yes Master."

"You *really* will be my slave, do you understand?"

"Yes Master."

"Do you want it?"

 "More than anything Master."  Picard's eyes locked 
with Q's as he tried to convey his sincerity.  "Please 
Master, please accept my service."

"Your first Rule will be that the word stop means stop, 
no questions asked."

"Yes Master.  Thank you Master."

"Repeat it."

Yes Master."  As Picard spoke, his voice was clear and 
steady.  "The word stop means stop, no questions 
asked."

Q held his hands in front of Picard, and materialized a 
simple plain black leather collar.  It had a silver 
loop closure, and Picard stared at it in fascination.  
*This could be a mistake," he thought, * but I suppose 
it's a little too late to think that.*  He looked up at 
Q, but could no longer meet his Master's eyes. 

"Chin up, johnny."

"Yes Master."  Picard held still as Q placed the collar 
around his neck.  The entity materialized a silver 
lock, and snapped it shut through the loop.  There was 
a solid sounding snick, and Picard sighed.  This was 
everything he'd ever wanted, to find an owner, someone 
who would, who *could* master him completely and force 
him to be his very best.  That his thought was 
unbelievably arrogant for a man who'd just had a collar 
locked around his throat didn't occur to him at all.  
"Thank you Master."  Remembering something he'd done 
two years ago, Jean-Luc leaned down and kissed the toes 
of Q's boots, leaving his head down when he'd finished.

*He's *so* good; all I have to do is smooth out the 
rough edges.  How could I have refused this before; why 
did I run away when he did this?*  "Now," Q said aloud.  
"I believe you were asking to be fucked."

***

//And oh was I fucked,// Jean-Luc wrote in his journal 
the next morning as he sat in his ready room.  He moved 
slightly in his chair, glad that Q was once more 
shielding his thoughts Troi. That she knew that Q was 
back in his life had been obvious from the discreet 
message requesting a meeting she'd left on his terminal 
this morning.  He looked again at the gorgeous brown 
leather bound book that she had given him a few weeks 
ago.  Her point had been that any number of people, 
most of whom out-ranked Picard, could get into his 
personal logs, and that he might want something that 
was his alone.  At some point this morning, he'd 
mentioned it to Q as they drowsed and talked.  Q had 
been amused, but had also promised without being asked 
not to read it.  And so this morning after the staff 
meeting, Picard had carefully started writing in the 
book.  //I'm with Q again,// the first sentence read.  
//I'm probably out of my mind, but I can't live the way 
I was living.  If he hurts me again, I may well lose my 
mind, but I *have* to do this.  And, as amazing as it 
seems, so does he.//  He'd rambled on about the 
evening, and tried to describe the feeling of touching 
Q's mind.  He didn't think that he did the experience 
justice, but he tried.  It was odd trying to find words 
to describe both his feelings and the things that had 
occurred last night.  //I can't believe that I spent as 
much time crying as I did.  And it felt so good to lay 
there in his arms this morning after he hurt me and let 
it all out.  It really is everything I'd ever hoped 
for, and *he* is everything I ever wanted.  But . . .//  
He'd paused after writing that "but."  //there's an 
awful lot we haven't talked about.  He can't be *here* 
all the time.  He has to understand that; I need to 
explain so that it doesn't hurt him.  I have to keep 
johnny and Captain Picard separate, or I can't command.  
It's that simple.//  His door chime rang and he sighed, 
shutting the book.  "Come."  The door slid open, 
revealing Troi.  He held the book up and she smiled.

"Does it help?"

"I don't know yet, but I think it might.  It's odd, 
I've never been one to keep a journal.  Even my 
personal logs usually aren't very personal."  He put 
the book aside.  "So, we need to talk?"

"So it would seem," she said dryly.  His mouth quirked 
in a smile at her imitation of one of his favorite 
phrases.  *He looks so *good*!* she thought.  *I swear 
last night took five years off him.*  He was relaxed, 
his smile looked normal, not forced, and the warmth 
that had been all but gone in the last two years was 
back in his hazel eyes.  She hated to nag him, but 
there were things that simply *had* to be said.  "I 
can't get anything from you.   If couldn't see you, I 
wouldn't know that you were on this ship."

"And you don't like that," he answered calmly.

"No, I don't."

Picard sighed.  "Deanna, other captains have counselors 
who can't read their emotions.  They manage."

"*Other* captains aren't involved with Q."

"But other captains *are* involved.  They have their 
personal lives and their officers don't know the 
details of what goes on off-shift."  He paused, but put 
a hand up to stop her from speaking.  After a moment, 
he rose from his desk and paced to the window.  Looking 
out at the stars, he tried to explain.  "I won't have a 
lot of time with Q but the time I do have with him has 
to be private."  He turned and looked her straight in 
the eye.  "It's the way it was before, Deanna.  I 
submit to him, he hurts me and I like it.  I really 
don't want to have you looking over my shoulder while 
that's happening.  Frankly, it's none of your business 
unless it interferes with my ability to command.  Does 
my being a submissive masochist interfere with that 
ability?"

*Red alert and fire *all* weapons,* Troi thought.  He'd 
decided on a full frontal attack, and she was glad to 
see that he was determined to win this one.  He would 
too, because he was right.  His sexual proclivities 
alone were not enough to interfere with his command and 
she saw no sign that there would be any danger that the 
games he and Q played would stray out of the bedroom.  
In fact, that might come to be a problem between the 
two lovers, but it wasn't now, and she didn't want to 
anticipate.  "No Captain, it doesn't.  I would like you 
to consider letting me . . . allowing me the access 
I've always had in the areas that concern the ship's 
business.  It has been part of our working 
relationship.  I don't need to know what you do with Q; 
to tell the truth, I don't think I *want* to know," and 
she softened her words with a smile.  "But being able 
to judge your overall mood has helped me advise you in 
the past."

"I'll discuss it with Q.  I'm sure we can work out a 
compromise.  He has promised not to read my mind unless 
there's some overwhelming reason to; I'm sure he'll 
agree to this too."  

He did seem sure, she noticed; he casually assumed that 
his omnipotent lover would do as requested.  *Who's on 
top?* she thought.  "Captain," she asked aloud.  "Can 
you tell Q that I would very much appreciate a word 
with him?  Given everything that has happened between 
the two of you, I have some questions for him."

Picard rolled his eyes as he walked back to his desk.  
"Isn't it a little early for pre-marital counseling?" 
Troi laughed, and he grinned back at her, finding it 
impossible to be angry at anyone this morning.  "Q?  
Counselor Troi would like a word with you."  The ready 
room suddenly resembled a Victorian office.  Picard was 
still behind the desk, but Troi was in a comfortable 
chair and Q was lying on a sofa.  "Q," Picard said, his 
voice a warning.  Q laughed, snapped his fingers and 
the ready room looked normal.  Picard shook his head.  
"*I* have work to do," he said.  

Troi smiled at him and turned to Q.  "My office 
perhaps?  Unless of course you want to look in on 
Jeanne with me?"  Q made a face and gestured toward the 
door.  Troi rose and Q followed her, but not before 
leaning over Picard's desk and kissing Jean-Luc lightly 
on the lips.  Picard shook his head as they vanished 
before the door had a chance to open.

"Computer? Location of Counselor Troi?"

"In her office; where else would she be?  Get to work 
Johnny."  It was Q's voice and Picard shook his head.  
Life would never be dull again, he thought turning back 
to the mission report.


End 2/5

-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)

========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: ACT Chap 1, 3/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:34:22 GMT


From:
	ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
	REP: ACT Chap 1, 3/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)


At the Center of Things
Chapter One
3/5
disclaimers in 1/5



***

"Well?" Q asked flippantly.  He lounged at ease in 
Troi's office, pretending that there was nothing odd 
about floating a few meters above the sofa.  

Troi gave up on acting like this was any other 
conference.  "I can make this very difficult for you Q, 
and you can’t do anything to stop me."  He  glared down 
at her, but she set her face stubbornly, and he 
suddenly laughed.  He vanished in  flash to reappear 
sitting on the sofa.

"You won't because that would involve making *his* life 
difficult, but I'll give you an A for effort.  So what 
do you want to talk to me about?"

She sighed.  "I want you to think about this.  Really 
think about it, Q.  It's not going to be . . ."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Deanna!  Do I look like a child?  
I have a clue . . ."

"No," she interrupted.  "You don't have a clue.  You 
told me yourself that you don't know anything about 
being in love.  I just want . . . I just want you to 
*think* about this."

"I have thought about it."  Q looked serious and Deanna 
tried to listen objectively.   "But I  . . . you want 
me to say it don't you?  I *need* him."

"I could care less whether you say that to *me* or not.  
Have you told *him* that?  The captain doesn't like 
being vulnerable, but it will be a lot easier for him 
if you let him know that you're vulnerable too.  I know 
this is all "psycho-babble" but you're dealing with a 
Human, Q.  You're trying to bridge an unbelievable gap 
in species, age, maturity, and experience.  You're 
facing a relationship with someone who (to be quite 
blunt) doesn't have a very good track record as far as 
relationships go.  Captain Picard is stubborn, selfish, 
and very used to having his own way.  He is willing to 
compromise at the negotiating table, but not in his 
personal relationships.  He's demanding, and has a hard 
time letting anyone get close.  It won't be easy and 
the "games" that the two of you play are going to make 
it harder."

"He told you about that?"

"Circumspectly, but it didn't surprise me.  I'm not 
going to bore you with all the reasons why, and it's 
really none of your business.  My point was that both 
of you are going to have to work *very* hard to make 
this work.  During all of this, I want *my* position to 
be clear.  If I see that any of this interferes with 
his ability to command, it is my duty to both this ship 
and to *him* to talk to him about it."

A silence fell after this blunt statement.  Q sighed.  
"I just want to be with him.  There's so little time . 
. ."

"And when will you be here?  All the time?  What will 
your role be in his life when you're here?  I doubt 
very much that you'll fit into the social structure of 
the ship the way a more normal partner would.  Most of 
us bore you, and quite frankly, most of us don’t like 
you.  So what will you do?"

"I don't know.  And don't think that I haven't thought 
about it.  I just *know* that he's going to ask me to 
not be here when he's on a mission that requires any 
kind of concentration on his part.  I'll say yes, of 
course.  Do you have any idea what this is like for me?  
How many years does he have?"  Q gloomily answered his 
own question.  "60, maybe 70 years, if he's careful.  
To you that's a long time, but to me it the blink of an 
eye. I'm going to have to promise not to meddle any 
more with his health, and undoubtedly he'll tell me 
that if he dies . . . that if he dies, he doesn’t want 
me to bring him back.  So here I am.  A Q, used to 
having whatever I want, suddenly discovering that the 
only thing I really want has a mind of his own."

"This might work," Troi said softly.  Q looked up at 
her; she was watching him with a slight smile on her 
face.  "You *have* been thinking."  He made an 
impatient face and she laughed.  "I know, it's 
unbelievably arrogant of me to presume to counsel an 
omnipotent immortal entity.  But Q . . . ever since the 
captain almost died at R'thel, I've had you fixed in my 
mind as being anywhere from the age of 13 to about 20.  
Not very flattering, but there it is."

"You're too kind.  What did Jean-Luc think of that 
assessment?'

"I don't know, I didn't share it with him.  I'm a 
professional Q; I don't go telling him what you said, 
and I won't tell you what he said to me.  I'm the 
Neutral Zone on this ship."

"25," Q said a moment later, breaking the silence that 
had fallen.  He was struggling with the fact that he 
found himself *liking* her.  Absurd of course, she 
didn't have clue as to what she was talking about, and 
yet . . . she knew Jean-Luc in ways that he, Q, didn't.  
And she knew how mortal relationships worked.  And so, 
he would be honest (or at least somewhat honest) with 
her.  "I'm an adult, but a young one."

"That may be harder than a lot of the rest of it.  He 
has a whole life of experiences that you don’t share."

"But I do share them.  Deanna, after the second time I 
appeared on this ship, I went back and researched Jean-
Luc *very* thoroughly.  I know what his whole life has 
been like, from the first step he took, to the first 
woman he had sex with, to what he had for breakfast 
just before I appeared on the bridge in my 16th century 
captain's clothing near Farpoint.  It's not like 
watching a holodrama either, I know what he thought at 
the time, and I can tell how various things in his life 
shaped him."

"Does he know about this?"

"A little."

"Be careful about how you tell him.  He'll feel . . ."

"Like I've violated his privacy.  I know.  But what can 
I do?  At the time I just thought I was doing my job . 
. . although Q said . . ."

"Q?"

"We don't have individual names you know.  The Q I'm 
talking about, my . . . sibling, if you will, said that 
I should have known how important Johnny . . . sorry, 
Jean-Luc, was to me, by the way I researched him so 
thoroughly.  I'm not known for my dedication to doing 
things the right way."

"Well, one quick tip; don’t call him Johnny in front of 
any of us.  If for some unknown reason, you're talking 
to anyone but me about him, try to avoid the nickname."  
She smiled.  "He may be your lover, but he's our 
captain.  That's two steps above God."  She shook her 
head.  "As for the fact that you know far more about 
his life than he knows about yours . . . you could tell 
him about your life.  He's got to be dying of 
curiosity, you know."

"I can't possibly explain what it's like to be a Q," Q 
said dismissively.

"Then what are you doing committing bestiality?"  Q 
stared at her, and Deanna shrugged.  "Well?  If you 
don't think he's capable of understanding your life 
story, then how can there be any connection between you 
other than sex?  Have you tried to let him into your 
mind?"

"Yes . . . it was one of the hardest things I've ever 
done."  She looked at him curiously.  "It's . . . we 
don't . . . can't show that much of ourselves . . . 
it's . . . dangerous . . ."

"Then go slowly.  You don't have to tell him everything 
at once, you know.  I'm just trying to help, and as you 
so politely haven't said, I may be way off base.  Just 
tell yourself that what you have is important to you 
and that you're willing to work hard to keep it."  She 
shrugged.  "I tell that to myself all the time.  It's 
not easy  being a Betazoid woman married to a Klingon 
man."  She smiled at the face he made.  "He doesn't 
like *you* either.  Anyway, I'll make you an offer.  
Any time you need to talk about this, let me know.  
I'll do my best to help you."  

"For his sake."

"Mostly.  What did you expect?"

"That you'd hide it better.  There is one thing about 
someone who grew up in a telepathic society, you can be 
refreshingly blunt."  Q stood.  "I won't always be this 
nice, you know, but . . . thank you."  Before she could 
reply, he snapped his fingers and was gone.  Troi shook 
her head.  

"Why me?" she muttered, looking at her schedule .

***

When Picard walked through his door to his quarters, he 
knew instantly that Q wasn't there.  Before he had much 
time to think about it, a voice spoke out of nowhere.  
"May I join you?"

"Of course," Picard replied, amused by Q's 
uncharacteristic politeness.  As soon as the words were 
out of his mouth, Q appeared.  Picard caught his breath 
at the sight of his lover.  He suddenly hoped that he 
always felt this way about Q, and looking at him, he 
was sure he would.  Q was smiling and Picard felt his 
knees get weak at the smile.  Unsure of himself, Jean-
Luc held out his hands in an inviting gesture.  Q 
gripped them, pulled Picard into an close embrace, and 
kissed him.  Picard relaxed into Q's arms, and let his 
mouth open under the pressure of Q's lips.  Q teased 
him, nibbling Jean-Luc's lips lightly for a time, 
before truly kissing him. 

Q could feel it happening; Jean-Luc was melting against 
him.  It was one of the things Q remembered about him; 
there was a point at which Jean-Luc would give himself 
over to the experience at hand.  Q knew that it was 
something Picard rarely permitted to happen, and so it 
meant even more when it happened as fast as it did now.  
Q took advantage of his height, forcing Jean-Luc to 
lean his head further back as the kiss intensified.  
Jean-Luc was moaning into Q's mouth now, and Q could 
feel Jean-Luc's erection nudging against his own.  He 
wanted him, right *now*, he realized.  He didn't want 
to talk, or think or anything.  He just wanted to lose 
himself in Jean-Luc.  He pulled back and looked at his 
lover.  

At first Jean-Luc didn't know what to make of the look 
on Q's face.  Then it struck him; his omnipotent lover 
was staring at him hungrily, need written clearly 
across his features.  They needed to talk, Picard knew, 
needed to discuss the parameters of this strange new 
relationship of theirs.  But . . . all Jean-Luc wanted 
to do was give Q what he so obviously needed.  *The 
hell with it,* he thought.  *We can talk later.*  "How 
do you want me?" he asked aloud.  He quickly added, 
"Sir?"

Q had been expecting some kind of resistance; he had 
been sure that Jean-Luc would insist that they sit and 
talk.  To realize that Picard didn't care about what 
they *should* be doing thrilled him.  He snapped his 
fingers and Jean-Luc was naked.  "You're unbelievable, 
Jean-Luc.  I swear you're the most gorgeous Human I've 
ever seen.  Put your hands behind your back."  Picard 
did so.  "johnny, I want you to acknowledge my orders 
to you."

"Yes, Master.  I will Master."   Picard didn't think it 
would be a good idea to disagree with Q, but he was 
embarrassed at being called gorgeous.  In an odd way, 
though, it was rather encouraging.  After all, if Q was 
in love with him to the point of being able to refer to 
him as gorgeous, well, it was somewhat reassuring.  He 
drew a breath in sharply; Q had grabbed his upper arm.  
Without saying anything, the entity dragged him over to 
his desk and pushed him down over it.   A slap to the 
insides of his thighs made him spread his legs, and his 
heart began to pound as Q slid a well-lubricated finger 
inside him.  In very short order, the finger was 
replaced with Q's cock.  There was no teasing, and very 
little preparation, Q simply moved into him hard.  
"Ohhh . . ." Picard moaned, trying to ride with the 
pain.   *This hurts . . . but it's what *he* wants from 
me . . . he must know that it hurts like this . . . 
I've got to learn to accept whatever he wants . . .*  
The thought was terribly arousing, and in spite of the 
pain, Jean-Luc began to move with Q.

"Hold still!  This is for me."  Q emphasized his order 
by grabbing Picard's hips and holding him firm against 
the desk. 

"Yes . . . Master," Jean-Luc managed to gasp out.  The 
concept, that Q was simply using him, made Picard's 
head spin.  It was almost overwhelming, to be wanted 
this much, and it more than made up for the pain.  
Particularly now that the pain was melting into 
sensation.  He began moaning as Q continued to move in 
and out of him.  "Oh . . . Dieu . . . yess . . ."

"You like this," Q said, mockingly.

Picard felt terribly ashamed.  He *did* like this, 
liked being bent over his *own* desk while Q used him.  
The shame only made him more aroused.  "Oui . . . it's 
so . . . bon . . .ahh."

*He really is lapsing into French.  How flattering.*  
But Q didn't really want to think about Picard's choice 
of language.  He wanted to think about the feeling of 
being inside Jean-Luc, and his own surprising need to 
do this.  He didn't hold back, and as his own orgasm 
approached, he noticed that Jean-Luc was clinging to 
the desk with white-knuckled strength.  "You don't  . . 
." Q managed to gasp out.  " . . .have permission . . . 
to come . . ."  Picard groaned in frustration, and 
slammed his fist against the top of the desk.  Knowing 
that he was firmly in control, Q gave in to his own 
need to come, groaning loudly as he went over the edge.  
He slumped against Picard and the desk for a moment, 
before slowly moving off his lover.  Having not been 
given permission to move, Jean-Luc remained over the 
desk and Q smiled.  *Train him?* the entity thought, *I 
think he'll end up training me.*  "Turn around, 
johnny," he said aloud.

"Yes Master."  Picard turned around and Q had to smile.  

*My, that's lovely,* he thought.  "You're going to turn 
me into a size queen, boy," he said aloud and laughed 
gently as Picard looked confused.  "It's an old 
expression," Q explained, "and it refers to a man who 
likes men with big dicks."  Picard blushed, looking 
totally embarrassed.  Q grinned at him and flopped onto 
the sofa.  "Go ahead and work it for me johnny.  Nice 
and slow, boy . . ."  He snapped his fingers and 
laughed as Jean-Luc jumped slightly.  "Lesson time, 
Jean-Luc.  I want you to think about who I am and 
realize that you have to get used to things appearing 
out of thin air and the locale changing abruptly.  I'll 
give you a grace period, but don't jump when I provide 
you with something as trifling as lubrication."

"Yes Master.  Your boy will try, Master."

"Now," Q snapped, his voice hard.  "I gave you an 
order.  Do it!"  Jean-Luc was clearly embarrassed to be 
leaning against his desk stroking his own cock.  But he 
did his best, and Q watched as the energy fields that 
made up his lover's aura shifted.  There was that coil 
formation that appeared whenever a Human neared orgasm 
and Q could feel energy coming off Jean-Luc in waves.  
It was surprisingly strong in Picard and that was one 
of the reasons sex with him was so much more satisfying 
than it had been with any of the other Humans with whom 
Q had indulged himself.  After all, power was power, 
and  Jean-Luc was one of the most powerful Humans Q had 
ever encountered.  He vaguely wondered what would be 
the result to Jean-Luc of prolonged contact with a Q.  
Mostly, however he was caught up in watching Jean-Luc, 
who had tilted his head back and was gasping as he 
moved closer and closer to a climax.  Suddenly he 
stopped moving his hand, although it was obvious that 
he was on the edge of release.

"Please . . . Master . . ." he gasped.  "Do I . . . can 
. . . I . . .?"

Q looked at him for a long moment, enjoying the sight 
of Picard's chest heaving with the strain of holding 
back.  "Go ahead, boy.  Come for your Master."  Jean-
Luc's hand returned to his cock and with a few strokes 
more, he came, crying out as he did.  Q basked in the 
energy overflow and then snapped his fingers, leaving 
Picard clean and dry.

"Thank you, Master."

"You'll find that I'm a fastidious sort," Q said 
lightly.  "Come here," he added, crooking his fingers.  
Jean-Luc came over and knelt before him.  "Relax, Jean-
Luc.  It's been a long few days."  And surprisingly, 
Picard did just that, leaning his head against Q's knee 
and sighing happily.  Q rested a hand lightly on 
Picard's shoulder and they sat that way for a time.  

End 3/5



-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)

========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: ACT Chap 1, 4/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:34:50 GMT


From:
	ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
	REP: ACT Chap 1, 4/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)	


At the Center of Things 
Chapter One
4/5
disclaimers in 1/5


"Master?" Picard finally said, his voice a little 
hesitant.  "I . . . your boy . . . would like to know 
how . . ."  His voice trailed off and he shook his 
head.  

"You're only on formal voice when I tell you that you 
are.  Although if you're not sure, it's better to be 
safe than sorry.  Also, if you're unsure, ask for 
permission to speak."

"Yes Master.  Thank you Master.  May I speak Sir?"

"Yes."

"How do we make the transition, Sir? Away from this . . 
.?"

Q sighed.  "You had to ask."  

At the tone in Q's voice, Picard felt terrible for 
having brought it up.  He'd disappointed his Master.  
Surprisingly, he felt his throat close up as if he were 
on the verge of tears.  It was terrifying that Q had 
this much effect on him and that his emotions were so 
close to the surface.  He gulped.

"Jean-Luc?"  When Picard looked up at him, Q was 
shocked.  Jean-Luc looked mortified and frightened.  
"What's wrong?"

"I don't . . . know . . . Sir," Picard replied, his 
voice trembling.  "I feel . . . on the edge . . ."  As 
his voice trailed off, Q tugged gently on his arm and 
got him to move up onto the sofa.  "I'm sorry . . . 
Sir," Picard added and then started crying.

*What is this all about?* Q wondered to himself.  He 
automatically started to read Jean-Luc's mind and then 
pulled back.  *I promised not to do that.*  But the 
peek he'd gotten had given him some insight.  "Sorry 
for what?" he asked gently.

"That I've . . . disappointed you . . . Master."  
Picard hesitated.  "That . . . that I'm crying, Sir."

"No johnny, don't apologize for crying.  Listen to me; 
you are *never* to apologize for *feeling* anything.  
Do you hear me?"  Picard nodded.  "Now," Q continued, 
"you're feeling vulnerable aren't you?"

"It's like my emotions are . . ." Picard let his voice 
trail off.

"Out of control?" Q asked.  Picard nodded again, 
brushing tears away from his eyes in an almost 
childlike way that Q found unbelievably endearing.  "Of 
course they are, Jean-Luc.  You're trying very hard to 
relinquish all control to me, and you're doing very 
well.  But, you should know that it's not going to be 
easy for you.  Your reading on the subject might have 
mentioned it."

Picard laughed slightly.  "I usually paid more 
attention to the parts about getting flogged.  But 
you're right, Sir.  I feel like I let you down, 
bringing up something when it wasn't appropriate."

"Oh, I don’t know.  Jean-Luc . . . you have a more 
developed sense of duty than I do.  And it was a good 
question.  One I don't really know the answer to."  He 
paused.  "Right now, we should have that talk we've 
been avoiding."  He suddenly smiled.  "I should have 
put the collar on you . . .  How's this?  When we're 
ready to embark on a scene," he paused as Picard moved 
slightly.  Q raised his eyebrows in question, and Jean-
Luc moved off the sofa to kneel at Q's feet.  "Good 
boy.  As I was saying . . . From now on, I'm going to 
leave the collar here in your quarters.  Find a good 
place for it and when you do, tell me where you're 
keeping it.  When I'm ready for you, I'll tell you to 
go and get it.  You'll bring it to me, kneel before me, 
and ask me to put it on you."  

"Yes Master."

"And then when we're done I'll take it off you.  If you 
really feel that it's time to end the scene, you can 
ask me to stop.  Otherwise I'll take your collar off 
when *I* decide that we're done."

"Yes Master.  May I respectfully make a suggestion 
Master?"

"johnny, I'm beginning to think that Starfleet has 
already done half of my training for me.  Go ahead, 
make your suggestion."

"Yes Master.  Perhaps at first we might set a . . . 
well a time limit on our scenes, Sir."

"Not a bad idea.  You realize that I'll never let you 
anywhere near a clock?"

"Of course not, Master."  Picard smiled up at Q a 
slightly knowing look in his hazel eyes, and Q drew in 
a shaky breath.  On one level it amused and (truth be 
told) rather frightened him that he responded in such a 
Human fashion, but on another level, the sight of Jean-
Luc's smile melted his heart.  He reached out and 
traced a finger across the quirked line of Jean-Luc's 
lips and got a kiss for his trouble.  "What happens at 
the beginning of a scene, johnny?"

"You tell me to get my collar.  I bring it and kneel 
before you and respectfully ask that you put it on me."

"Good boy.  Now, I don't want you putting on your own 
collar or cuffs. I want to make that a rule."  He 
smiled down at Picard.  "Rule Number Two, in fact."

Picard went down into a low obeisance.  "Please Master, 
may your slave speak?"

"Go ahead."

"I was thinking today Master.  I would like to write my 
Rules in my journal, Sir.  If it pleases you. Master."

"I like that johnny. And boy," Q paused until Picard 
looked up.  "I want you to think of things like that; 
it's important that you be a part of your own training.  
I'm pleased with you."  Jean-Luc realized that he was 
still on the edge, emotion-wise.  He was once again 
close to tears, but this time they were tears of pride.  
He had pleased his Master, and right now he wouldn't 
trade that for anything in the galaxy.  Q snapped his 
fingers and was suddenly holding the journal and a pen.  
Jean-Luc knelt up and took the book as Q handed it 
down.  "Rule Number One:  The words 'stop' means stop, 
no questions asked."

"The word 'stop' means stop, no questions asked," 
Picard said as he wrote the words into the back of his 
journal.

"I think I'll throw in a different rule for Number 
Two," Q said.  Picard looked up expectantly.  "When 
johnny is in role, he is only allowed to refer to Q as 
'Master' or 'Sir.'"

"When johnny is in role, he is only allowed to refer to 
Q as 'Master' or 'Sir.'"  Picard suddenly smiled, a 
swift smile that flitted across his face and then 
vanished.

"What is it, boy?"

"Oh . . . Master.  I thought it was odd that in order 
to repeat that rule, I had to break it."  He shrugged 
lightly, and Q laughed.

"Rule Number Three:  johnny is not allowed to put on 
his collar or cuffs.  It is his Master's place to do 
so."

"Rule Number Three:  johnny is not allowed to put on 
his collar or cuffs.  It is his Master's place to do 
so," Jean-Luc dutifully repeated as he wrote the words.  
*I really am a slave,* he suddenly thought.  *I have 
these rules and he can do what he wants with me.  How 
did I get so lucky?*  He realized that he was 
responding physically to the thought of being owned.  
He normally would be capable of being aroused again 
this soon after an orgasm, but normal didn't seem to 
apply around Q.  *It's just one of the advantages of 
having an omnipotent lover that I'm *not* going to 
complain about.*

"One more Rule for now and then that will be an end to 
it.  I expect you to memorize these and be able to 
repeat them when asked."

"Yes Master," Picard replied.  Yes, his cock was 
definitely twitching.  

"Rule Number Four: Unless told otherwise, johnny cannot 
come without permission and he must tell his Master if 
he’s close."

"Rule Number Four: Unless told otherwise, johnny cannot 
come without permission and he must tell his Master if 
he’s close."  Picard drew a deep breath as he finished 
writing out the last rule.  This was so unbelievable 
and he needed it so much.  He wondered for a moment 
about that.  Outside this relationship, he still lived 
in a structured world and he still had to take orders 
from above.  *No this is different.  This is separate 
from that.*  He was still unsatisfied with that answer 
but resolved to think about it later.  He closed the 
book, and put it aside, knowing that Q would see his 
erection.  *Somehow I don't think that we'll be getting 
to any serious discussions about our relationship any 
time soon.  Troi would be so disappointed,* he thought 
with no real regret.

"Well, well, well," Q drawled.  "What have we here?  
johnny my boy, you are always surprising me.  I think I 
like it.  On your back!"

"Yes Master."  Picard complied quickly.  Q leaned back 
on the sofa and gestured lightly with one hand.  Jean-
Luc felt his hands pulled up and restrained above his 
head, while at the same time his legs were shoved 
widely open and likewise restrained.  Something, icy 
and hot at the same time, coiled around his erect cock.  
It felt oddly like a tentacle, but he liked it.  It 
teased him, a teasing that was joined by a pair of 
tongues, also icy/hot, toying with his nipples.  Q 
leaned forward to watch his reactions, and Jean-Luc 
struggled to keep his eyes open.  He hadn't been told 
*not* to meet his Master's eyes, and so he stared into 
the dark brown depths, not minding that his body was 
thrashing against the restraints in a vain attempt to 
get more attention.  He felt it then, Q was opening up 
and letting him in just a little, showing him how much 
the entity enjoyed Picard's helpless and passionate 
surrender to his Master's power.  Q *wanted* to see him 
like this, and Jean-Luc wanted to be seen like this.  
"All . . . for . . . you . . .Master . . ." he gasped 
out.  The tentacle (or whatever it was) had been joined 
by several more like it and Jean-Luc was writhing on 
the floor in response the incredible pressure and the 
heat and the cold and  . . . "Master . . . I'm . . . 
close . . ."  Everything stopped, and Picard groaned, a 
groan that he stopped immediately, when Q moved off the 
couch and sat down in between Jean-Luc's spread legs.  
When his hand first slid along the length of Jean-Luc's 
cock, it was hot and icy like the tentacles had been.  
"Ohh . . . yesss . . ."

"Go ahead johnny," Q murmured, still letting his 
feelings spill over to Jean-Luc.  "Give it to me."  And 
Jean-Luc did, only this time he felt a little of what Q 
felt, an amazing rush of pure energy that spiraled out 
of him.  When it was over and he was calm, he found 
that he was no longer restrained.  Q smiled down at him 
and snapped his fingers.  They were suddenly in 
Picard's bed and Q reached out and took Jean-Luc in his 
arms.  "I think I'd be taking your collar off if you 
had it on, Jean-Luc."  He smiled at Jean-Luc's raised 
eyebrow.  "End of scene."    Picard nodded, but didn't 
say anything, merely leaning against his lover for a 
long time.

"What was that . . . that energy I felt, when you were 
sharing your feelings with me?" Jean-Luc finally asked.

"That was you, Jean-Luc.  It's also my way of showing 
you that I'm not just having sex with you because *you* 
like it or even just because my corporeal form likes 
it.  That energy comes from you.  It builds up as you 
get worked up and the longer I keep you from coming, 
the stronger it is.  Let me tell you right now that 
it's a good thing that you get off on being teased, 
because the results are . . . rather intense."

"Do we, Humans I mean, pick up on that at all?  Is that 
why we feel so drained after sex?  I know that sex 
takes up . . . what I think of as 'normal' energy, but 
is this just part of that?"

"Tantric sex," Q replied.  "Some of your mystics got it 
right.  Not everyone can feel it but, as you said, 
everyone notices the loss of energy.  You're hungry 
aren't you?"

"And tired.  Then again, I have been rather . . . 
active," and he grinned at Q, "lately."

"Think of me as a better than average replicator.  What 
do you feel like eating?"

"So," Picard said through a mouthful of sandwich, a few 
moments later.  "You really do get *something* out of 
this?  Beyond the physical, I mean."

"Oh yes.  I guess the closest analogy would be to 
compare it to an adrenaline or endorphin rush.  It's 
really strong in you."  Q chuckled.  "Just one more 
thing that makes you spectacular."

"Oh . . . well . . ."

"I swear, Jean-Luc, you are so damn modest.  Can I say 
anything nice about you that you won't hedge on?  A 
couple of years ago you told me you were vain."

Picard sighed.  Two years ago . . .  "I don't look as 
good as I looked two years ago," he said very gently, 
hoping that Q would not hear any accusation in his 
voice.

"That's true," Q replied in a level tone.  "You're in 
better physical condition, for one."  

"All that working out in the last few months."  After 
being magically restored to perfect health by Q, Picard 
had spent a lot of time in the Enterprise's gym and on 
the holodeck trying to sublimate his reawakened desire 
for Q with hard physical exercise.  "But I've always 
been vain about my figure."  He paused.  "And . . . my 
voice."

"You should be.  I really think that this Human notion 
of self-deprecation goes too far."

"You would," Picard remarked dryly.  "But aside from 
that . . . I just don't see that there's all that much 
about me that's . . . spectacular."

"Well, for heaven's sake, Jean-Luc, *I* see it.  And 
mine is the only opinion that counts."  Q was relieved 
when Picard began to laugh.  

"Oh, of course, Sir," Jean-Luc replied sarcastically.  
He ate a few more bites of his sandwich, and then spoke 
into the nervous silence that had descended.  "You know 
that we need to talk."

"I know.  So talk, Captain.  It's only fair, I suppose, 
I gave you rules to follow earlier, now it's your 
turn."  Q sighed and leaned back against a pile of 
pillows that hadn't been there a moment ago.  "You 
don't want me around when you're on a mission that 
involves any concentration on your part.  If there's 
any threat to the Enterprise, I'm not to try to save 
you or the ship.  I'm not to interfere with your health 
again, even if it means that I have to stand there and 
watch you die."  His expression and his tone of voice 
were bitter and Picard tried not to rise to the bait.  
He didn't want to quarrel with Q this early, although 
he knew that quarrels were inevitable.  

"Not quite that drastic," he said after a suitable 
pause.  "If we're in way over our heads, and have no 
hope of saving our lives; if we face something that you 
know we can't handle . . . then . . . yes, I'd like 
your help."  It was surprising how hard it was to say 
that, and he waited for Q to make some sort of 
sarcastic comment.  Instead, his lover sighed.

"Under those guidelines I wouldn't have been able to 
interfere when you were captured by the Borg."

"That's right."

"I don't know if I can do it Jean-Luc.  For one thing, 
you have this habit of solving the most impossible 
situations and puzzles.  And . . . I don't know if I 
can go through that.  I can't watch you suffer like 
that."

"Then you might as well put that collar on me right now 
and leave it there."  Picard's voice was steady as he 
replied.  "I'll resign my commission and just be your 
lover.  How soon will you tire of me?"

"Dammit Jean-Luc!"  Q flashed off the bed and appeared 
across the room pacing.

"No!" Picard snapped.  "Listen to me!  Last time was 
different, and it wasn't right and it can't be like 
that again.  If you want me to be your willing lover, 
you *have* to give me room, and let me do my job."  He 
tried to play a wild card.  "If I can't do my job, how 
can you do yours?  Or are you going to find some other 
starship captain to represent the Federation."

"I'm surprised you don't want me to.  I'm hardly an 
objective observer at this point."

"You never were, Q, and you know it.  Ever since I 
figured out what was going on at Farpoint, you've been 
influencing the outcome of each test.  And as far as 
I'm concerned, you weren't all that objective at 
Farpoint either."

"You sound like Q," Q snapped in disgust.

"Which one?"

"My fucking sibling."  

A silence descended as Picard tried to digest that.  
"Is this going to work?" he finally asked quietly.

"It *has* to work, Jean-Luc."  Q moved quickly to sit 
on the bed next to Picard.  "I'll do whatever you 
want."

"No, that isn't right either," Picard replied shaking 
his head.  "Q . . ."  He paused again.  "Q, if you let 
me I'll run roughshod over you.  That's what I always 
do.  That's why I'm not . . . why I have such bad luck 
with relationships.  It's not just because there were 
things I wanted that I was afraid to ask for . . . but 
because I have to have things *my* way."  He put his 
plate down and reached out to grip Q's hand tightly.  
"I don't know what to do, but I want this, want *you* 
more than I've ever wanted anything.  I want to be with 
you and I want it to work out.  I've . . ."  He paused 
and then finished softly, ". . . been without you and I 
won't go there again."

"I didn't know what was happening," Q said, his own 
voice hushed.  "I'm used to being bored and at loose 
ends; I'm used to feeling like there should be *more* 
to my life . . . but after I left you . . . I felt . . 
. cut adrift and I didn't even know that I loved you 
yet.  Jean-Luc, I can't live like that again.  What do 
we do?"

"Make it up as we go along, I guess.  If we get in to 
trouble, and you really don't think we can handle it, 
come to me.  If there's time, come and tell me, and 
I'll listen . . . I'll *try* to listen objectively.  It 
might help if you didn't tell me what an idiot I am.  
Or at least only tell me once or twice."  He smiled 
slightly and shrugged.  "But if I think that you're 
going to get me out of every little mess I get into . . 
.  then I'm not me anymore.  Does that makes sense?"

"It does, but . . ."  Q looked away and then tried to 
meet Picard's eyes.  "When . . . when will you have 
time for me?"

End 4/5

 

-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)

========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: ACT Chap 1, 5/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:35:40 GMT


From:
	ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
	REP: ACT Chap 1, 5/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)


At the Center of Things
Chapter One
5/5
disclaimers in 1/5



"More often than you think and not as often as either 
of us would like.  Take the mission we're on right now 
. . . we're going to the Calvidia system for a First 
Contact.  I have to be on duty during the Alpha watch; 
I have to study the advance team's reports, and I have 
to work out a course of action, but I'll still have 
free time on my hands.  It'll take us at least three 
weeks to get there, and I have a drill planned for one 
day out of those three weeks.  Normally I'd spend time 
reading, fooling around on the holodeck, catching up on 
my correspondence, that sort of thing.  I will have 
time to be with you and I will want to be with you.  
Now if we were showing the flag at the edge of the 
Romulan Neutral Zone and tensions were high, I might 
not have as much time.  If we were on a milk run, I'd 
have even more time.  For every temporal anomaly I have 
to struggle to figure out, there are months that go by 
when we're not doing anything that requires 24 hours of 
my day."

"And Jean-Luc, temporal anomalies can be your friends."

"What do you mean?"

In reply Q snapped his fingers.  "What time is it?"

Picard looked at the chronometer on his bed-side table.  
"19:36."

"Keep watching it."  Picard did.  After what he thought 
was a minute, the numbers didn't change.  He reached 
over and changed the configuration to show seconds, and 
those numbers didn't move either.

"Q," he began.

"Just a demonstration," Q said, hearing the warning 
note in his lover's voice.  He snapped his fingers and 
the numbers began changing again.  "But we can have 
time together."

"I don't like it," Picard said firmly.  "I don't think 
it's a good idea," he added.

Q was about to open his mouth and promise not to do it 
if Jean-Luc didn't want him to, but then he looked at 
the stubborn set of Picard's jaw.  *No, I don't think 
so, Johnny.  You're going to have to bend a little 
here.*  "Well, I do.  I won't do it for long periods of 
time and if we go into the past I'll be sure that we 
don't do anything to your precious timeline."

"I'm just not comfortable with that kind of thing," 
Picard tried to explain.  "I'm not used to it."

"Well *get* used to it, Johnny," Q replied, his voice 
taking on an edge.  "You want to tell me when I can and 
can't be around, fine.  But I want to be able to 
guarantee that I have more than a night here or a few 
hours after dinner there.  Of course I could do what I 
used to do and just keep you up all night with no 
sleep."  He paused.  "Or are you going to run roughshod 
all over me on this one?"

Picard sighed.  "We're taught, at the Academy, that the 
timeline and time itself is something that we should 
leave alone.  Too many things can go wrong, too many 
things *have* gone wrong, and we can't always fix it."  
He paused.  "I should just trust you, shouldn't I?"

"You *do* trust me Jean-Luc."

"Yes, I do.  But this . . . it's hard in a lot of 
different ways.  You're so . . . far advanced.  You can 
stop time with the snap of a finger, you can repair a 
timeline the same way . . .  What are you doing here 
with *me*?  Really Q, what can I be to you, but an 
amusement, a passing fancy?"

"No!  Not that, Jean-Luc.  You aren't that now, and you 
never have been.  What you can be is everything I 
showed you last night and more.  You can be the first 
person who has *ever* trusted me enough to surrender to 
me.  Don't you realize how much that means to me?  
You're the only being in the galaxy that I've ever let 
that far into my . . . inner self.  You're the only 
person who can teach me to live in the 'now.'"  He 
shook his head, surprised at his self-revelatory 
outburst.  "What can you be to me?  You can be Jean-Luc 
Picard."

"I'm sorry, Q.  I know what you showed me, and I could 
tell that it was hard for you to let me in.   It's just 
that . . . it's hard for *me* to even grasp what you 
are, and what you're capable of.  Can you . . . can we 
. . . be careful?  Can you understand why it makes me 
nervous, and try to . . . go easy on me?"

"Oh Jean-Luc . . .  I'm sorry.  I really do forget that 
you . . . that this would be hard for you.  That you 
love me at all, that you accept all of this so easily 
is so amazing . . .   I shouldn't be surprised when it 
gets to you."  He paused and thought for a minute.  
"About this time problem.  You really ought to sleep 
some of the time.  Oh I can make it so you don't need 
it and so you don't go crazy without your dreams, but . 
. ."

"But then I'm no longer really Human."

"Exactly.  But what if I . . . just tamper a little?  I 
can fix things so that you don't need very much sleep.  
You don't already, you know.  You often get by on just 
five hours and you consider eight hours a luxury.  So, 
how about two hours a night?  You'll dream, your body 
will rest, and I'll have more of your time.  That 
doesn't mean that I won't want to take you on the odd 
temporal . . . vacation, but if I have your nights . . 
."

Picard didn't reply right away.  Instead he left the 
bed and paced into the living room, grateful that Q 
didn't follow him.  He looked at the stars for a long 
time, trying to figure out what to do.  He could insist 
that Q take him as he was, no changes to his sleep 
cycles, no stopping time . . .  *Have the upper hand . 
. .  is that what you want, Jean-Luc?  If you insist on 
it, it makes a mockery of your submission . . . I'd be 
saying that *I* call all the shots . . . all the time . 
. . but for him to *change* me like that . . . oh for 
Christ's sake, he's changed me already.*  He turned and 
walked back into the bedroom.  "I would like very much 
. . . to have more time with you.  If you're willing to 
do this for me and it doesn't . . . interfere with 
whatever it is that you . . . do."  He shook his head.  
"Oh God, I'm babbling.  Please, I'd like you to snap 
your fingers and make me capable of getting by on a few 
hours of sleep a night."  

"This won't hurt a bit," Q said, snapping his fingers.  
"There."

"Will it be obvious?  To Beverly I mean.  Will she pick 
it up during my next physical?"

"So what if she does?  It's not like they don't know 
what's going on."  Q frowned.  "You're not going to 
insist that Deanna be the only member of your crew that 
knows that we're lovers?"

"No, of course not . . ." Picard replied, looking a 
little sheepish.

"You, know, Jean-Luc there's such a thing as being too 
private.  Or are you feeling guilty about this?"  Q's 
voice was somewhat biting, and Picard felt himself 
getting angry again.

"Seven years ago, eighteen people aboard this ship 
died.  A little over a year later, over 11,000 people 
most of them in Starfleet, died.  There are very few 
people in Starfleet that didn't lose someone they knew 
and cared about at Wolf 359.  We both know whose fault 
it really was, but my people would rather blame you for 
it.  Under the circumstances, the fact that you're my 
lover is going to upset them."  His voice had an echo 
of the flatness that Q had heard before.  Jean-Luc was 
trying to distance himself from a pain that would never 
truly go away.  Given what had just said, Q supposed he 
should be angry and start yelling at Picard.  But there 
was more going on here than met the eye.  

"And you?" he asked softly.  "Do you really blame 
yourself or do you blame me?"

"It would be easier, in a way, if I could have blamed 
you for all of it.  But I couldn't."  Picard shifted, 
turning so that Q was left looking at his shoulder and 
the back of his head.  "I tried you know, during my 
recovery.  I tried to tell myself that if you hadn't 
introduced us to the Borg, I would never have been 
captured."

"Well, you were right.  They wouldn't have had a name 
to come after, and they might have grabbed someone 
else.  In a way it *is* all my fault."

"No, I turned you down when you asked to join us . . ."

"Bullshit.  If you had accepted, the result would have 
been much the same.  Oh I might have found a different 
peril, but I would have forced you to admit that you 
needed me."  Q ran his fingers through his hair.  "I 
wish I'd known what I really wanted from you back 
then."

"I wouldn't have agreed to anything back then.  You 
would have had to rape me, and I recall you saying that 
you didn't go in for that."  Picard paused.  "But I 
can't place all the blame for the Borg on your 
shoulders.  If I hadn't been so arrogant . . . well, 
it's old history and I've paid, and then some, for my 
arrogance."

"So did I."  When Picard looked at him curiously, Q 
explained.  "I was there, watching you, Jean-Luc, 
through all of that.  Knowing what you went through, 
even when you were nothing more to me than part of the  
project . . . it was terrible.  How did you do it?"  
Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow in question.  "Retain any 
sanity at all?  By all rights you should have gone 
insane within the first 24 hours."

"I just had to, I guess.  If the Enterprise had been 
destroyed ramming the Borg ship, I wouldn't have made 
it."

"And you wonder why I say you're special."  Q rose from 
the bed and began to pace again.  "My . . . superiors 
said that it was a good test."  There was a hint of 
anger in his voice as he spoke.

"In which failure meant the end of the whole 
Federation," Picard said bitterly.  "Why Q?  Are you 
all gods?  What gives the Continuum the right to do the 
things it does?"

"Power."

"So might makes right?  Is it really that simple?"  
Picard sounded disappointed and in a flash of insight, 
Q suddenly realized how much Jean-Luc's opinions 
mattered to him. 

"Not really," he tried to explain.  "Power is the easy 
answer.  There's also our experience, the occasional 
need to do *something* useful with the endless time we 
have on our hands, and a sense of duty."  He suddenly 
remembered Troi suggesting that he talk about his past 
with Jean-Luc.  "Someday, when we have time, I'll tell 
you the teaching stories, our myths if you will, about 
why we do what we do."

"And you have no use for the Prime Directive or a 
similar philosophy?"

"Do you?" Q countered quickly.  "What about your fellow 
Starfleet captains?  You all have good intentions, but 
the PD gets broken all the time.  Are you really better 
than I am because you *mean* well?"  

"At one time I derived great satisfaction from thinking 
that we were," Jean-Luc replied softly, his face 
pensive.

"I know, and it really irritated me, if you must know.  
You can be so bloody smug, Jean-Luc."  Q shook his 
head.  "And maybe you're right to be.  Maybe meaning 
well does count for something."

"Again, I'd like to think that it does."  A silence 
fell after these remarks and Picard finally had to 
break it.  "We won't solve our philosophical 
differences in one night, but . . . thank you."

"For what?"

"Talking to me.  *Really* talking to me, and listening 
to what I had to say.  It's good to know that there's 
more than just kinky sex going on between us.  I need 
this as much as I need that collar."

"I used to look forward to talking to you back then, 
two years ago.  It bothered me."  Q shrugged. "It still 
does to tell the truth."

"Why?"

"Because I'm Q.  I'm supposed to be omnipotent.  And to 
*need* you as much as I do . . ."

"I'm about to be brutally honest, and I may regret it, 
but, that one fact, the fact that *you* need *me,* is 
the only reason that we're here together like this."

"I know that, Jean-Luc," Q said gently.  "It was all 
over your mind yesterday afternoon.  Why feel guilty 
about it?"

"Because love should be enough.  I shouldn't have to . 
. . to want to have that control."

"Oh please, Jean-Luc," Q replied, rolling his eyes.  
"Could you really accept a relationship in which you 
don't maintain some control?"

"Isn't that the ideal?  After all, I *belong* to you, 
therefore, I should have no control."

"That only works on paper, and you know it.  You can 
always say "stop."  Frankly if I 'd wanted you to have 
no control here, you wouldn't.  It's just that simple.  
I'd just snap my fingers and you'd do what *I* wanted 
you to do.  But I *don't* want that.  Don't you see, 
Jean-Luc, the fact that you submit of your own free 
will is the greatest gift you can give me?"

"It *is* of my own free will," Jean-Luc said moving off 
the bed.  He moved to kneel before Q, and Q looked down 
at him.  "I couldn't do this for anyone else, you 
know."  As he looked back at Q, Jean-Luc's face almost 
shone, and Q could easily read his lover's sincerity 
without resorting to reading Picard's mind.

"I know," Q replied, gratefully.  "And I know it for 
the gift that it is."  He smiled down at Picard.  "Go 
get your collar, boy."


End Chapter One

ACT-Chapter 1





-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)

Comments: Authenticated sender is <asceml@popmail.mcs.net>
From: "ASCEML" <asceml@popmail.mcs.net>
To: "(ASCEML)"< (asceml@aol.com)>
Date: Wed, 18 Mar 1998 02:44:42 +0000
X-Distribution: Moderate
Subject: ASCEML -  REP: At the Center of Things -- Chap 2, 1/5 (TNG, P/Q,
Reply-to: ASCEM@earthlink.net
Priority: normal
X-mailer: Pegasus Mail for Windows (v2.54)



From:
 ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
 REP: ACT Chap 2, 1/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)



Disclaimer (long version in Chapter One): Star Trek is the property of
Paramount.  This version of it is the property of me.  This story
involves m/m sex as well as bdsm.

At the Center of Things
by Ruth Gifford 
(c) 1997

Chapter Two
Revelations and Limitations

"I have a face I cannot show
I make the rules up as I go
It's try and love me if you can
Are you strong enough to be my man?

When I've shown you that I just don't care
When I'm throwing punches in the air
When I'm broken down and cannot stand
Will you be strong enough to be my man?"

"Strong Enough"
Sheryl Crow





Picard was nervous, as he sat his ready room several 
days later.  It wasn't surprising, but that didn't mean 
he had to like it.  How he was going to handle the 
upcoming conversation, he didn't know.  He'd thought 
about it for two days and he still had no idea.  The 
problem with trying to rehearse difficult conversations 
in advance was that one had no idea of how the other 
person involved would respond to your initial 
bombshell.  His door chime pinged, and he sighed as he 
sat down behind his desk.  *Time's up,* he told himself 
wryly.  "Come."

"You wanted to see me Captain?"

"Yes Number One. Please, have a seat."  Riker sat down.

"Is something wrong sir?"  Riker was glad that he felt 
able to ask the question.  For two horrible, long 
years, he had *known* that something was wrong with his 
captain and had been unable to ask what it was.

"Wrong?  No, not exactly.  Is it that obvious that I'm 
nervous?" Picard asked, a slight smile hovering around 
the corners of his mouth.  When Riker nodded, the smile 
became more apparent.  "Oh."  There was a slight pause 
while Riker tried to figure out what was going on.  
Beverly and Deanna had been annoyingly closed mouthed 
about it and he was starting to guess why.  

"It's Q, isn't it?" he asked now.  Before Picard even 
opened his mouth the look on the captain's face gave 
Riker the answer.

"He's serious this time," Picard said.  And then more 
quietly, "so am I."

"How do you *know* that he is?" Riker asked.  Maybe it 
wasn't the best question to ask, but after all Q had 
done, the first officer felt entitled. 

"How do you *know* that Beverly loves you?  How does 
Worf *know* how Deanna feels?  This isn't . . . it 
doesn't *feel* like it did two years ago.  He didn't 
*need* me then.  Now he does."  Picard looked shrewdly 
at Riker.  "Deanna and I have discussed this.  Our 
esteemed Counselor intends to tell me the minute that 
*she* feels that my . . . involvement with Q interferes 
with my duties as captain.  The only reason we're even 
having this discussion is that I'd like you to do the 
same."

"Actually," Riker said quietly.  "I wasn't asking as 
your first officer; I was asking as a friend who's seen 
you go through hell for over two years."

Picard sighed, hearing  Riker's carefully tendered 
rebuke.  "Believe me," he said seriously, "I truly 
appreciate that friendship, more than you can imagine.  
There are few first officers who would have put up with 
the attitude you put up with during that time.  You 
should never have *had* to put up with it, but I'm 
damned grateful that you did."  He shook his head.  "To 
answer your question as a friend, I wouldn't have let 
him back into my life if I didn't truly trust him."

"That's one hell of a risk," Riker said, struggling to 
keep his voice neutral.  Obviously he didn't manage 
completely.  Picard shot him a look.

"What would you have me say?  Obviously I think it's 
well worth the risk, but then I would, because  I'm in 
love with him."

The bluntness with which Picard spoke left Riker more 
than a little surprised.  So, not thinking, he simply 
said the first thing that came to mind.  "How could you 
fall in love with *Q*?"  As soon as he spoke, he 
regretted it, but to his relief, Picard seemed to take 
the question surprisingly well.

"Sometimes . . . there's someone who just . . . compels 
a reaction from you.  Q and I do that for one another, 
and to tell the truth I think we always have.  Yes, he 
hurt me, and I know that you blame him for that and 
other things as well, but there it is."

"The Borg," Riker said into the silence that fell after 
Picard's words.

"That's the kind of reaction I'd expect from someone 
half your age," Picard replied, his voice cool and 
distant.  "You know as well as I do and as well as Q 
does, for that matter, that the blame for the Borg 
rests squarely on my shoulders.  You were there in Ten-
Forward when I refused his request to become a member 
of this crew.  It was *my* arrogance and *my* 
conviction that I could prove him wrong that led him to 
act as he did.  I suggest that you bear that in mind."  
Picard paused, and drew a deep breath.  "I'm sorry 
Will, but I can never forget just where the 
responsibility for the Borg and for Wolf 359 truly 
lies.  You're welcome to disapprove of my lover; 
frankly I expected you to, but don't blame your dislike 
on something Q was not responsible for."

Riker was stung, and didn't bother to hide it.  Picard 
had expected him to disapprove and yet had cut him down 
when he did.  Then he thought about the *way* the 
captain had reacted as opposed to the words he'd said.  
Riker had been focusing so much on the more recent pain 
that Picard had suffered, that had lost sight of how 
scarred Picard had been and obviously still was by his 
experiences with the Borg.  Being honest with himself, 
Will also had to admit that his own hatred of Q stemmed 
as much from the fact that Q had made a total fool of 
him in front of Picard, as anything else.  He suddenly 
thought about the things Q had done for Picard.  Could 
introducing the Federation (through the Enterprise) to 
the Borg be balanced by the help Q gave the captain 
during the Continuum's temporal anomaly test?  And did 
it matter anyway?  Anything he said would not change 
the fact that Picard was involved in an affair that 
Riker simply could not understand.  *And why not just 
tell him that?*  Before he thought too much more about 
it, Riker did just that.  "I think my real problem is 
that I don't understand."

To his surprise, Picard smiled at him.  "Neither do I 
really.  I *know* Q doesn't understand it at all."  He 
laughed slightly.  "But then I have a *little* more 
experience with relationships than he does."  He 
paused.  "This isn't an easy conversation for either of 
us, but believe me I *do* appreciate your concerns."

"I know Captain, but . . . well it's Q, sir."

"I know.  As I said, I don't expect you to approve.  
And Will?"

"Captain?"

"I won't be asking him to join the poker game or to 
come to dinner."

Riker grinned ruefully and Picard breathed a sigh of 
relief.  Will would pass the news on to anyone he 
thought needed to know, and so this was the end of 
discussing his private life with members of his crew.

"Captain?" Riker said after a moment, and Picard 
realized that maybe this *wasn't* the end of the 
conversation. 

"Yes?"

"What about the ship?  Will he . . . leave us alone, or 
will he interfere with our missions?"

"He's promised not to interfere.  It wasn't easy 
getting him to agree."

Riker wasn't sure he understood.  "Why not?  Is he 
*supposed* to be . . . watching us, or whatever it is 
that he does for the Continuum?"

"I'm not exactly sure what his duties for the Continuum 
are.  That however, was not why he argued with me over 
not interfering.  He doesn't want . . ."  Picard's 
voice trailed off and Riker found it odd to see him at 
a loss for words.  "Think about it from his point of 
view.  I've asked him not to try to save me if I'm 
injured again.  It was a hard promise for him to make."  
Riker suddenly realized what Picard was talking about.  
Q wasn't upset that he couldn't interfere and make 
trouble, he was simply worried about Picard getting 
hurt.  The realization  brought on an odd flash of 
understanding and Will wasn't sure what to make of 
*that*.  "Unless we're completely in over our heads," 
Picard went on, "he's not to interfere with any of our 
missions.  That was hard for both of us.  I can accept 
that *I* might get hurt or even killed as a result of 
my own actions, but when my actions could result in the 
death of any of the crew . . ."

"But we can't do our job if we know we always have an 
out, sir."

"That's what I told myself.  Not surprising really; 
I've been telling myself that kind of thing for as long 
as I've been a captain."  He shrugged slightly.  "So 
don't expect Q to bring the cavalry over the hill.  
We're still on our own out here."

"Speaking of which," Riker said, "I'll have the reports 
from the First Contact advance team ready for you by 
the end of the shift."  He rose.

"Make it so, Number One."  Picard nodded, and Riker 
turned to leave.  As he reached the door, he heard the 
captain's voice, softer this time, "and . . . thank 
you, Will."


***

The mission was a delicate one; First Contacts always 
were.  The planet was called Calvidia by its 
inhabitants, a race of humanoid mammals, and they had 
met all the necessary requirements for First Contact.  
They had highly developed inner-system spaceflight, and 
were testing a primitive warp drive.  They had a 
planetary government.  They had, reflected Picard, done 
a better job of getting to this point than Humans had.  
He was used to thinking that thought before a First 
Contact mission, and it actually made things easier.  
It was so tempting to go in thinking that superior 
technology meant that you were superior in every other 
way as well.  To discover that a planet had managed to 
develop nuclear power as a way to light their homes as 
opposed to a way to kill  their enemies made one feel a 
little humble.  Of course the Calvidians had made their 
share of mistakes, and the first planetary government 
had been an ugly theological dictatorship, but all in 
all, Picard was genuinely impressed with their 
accomplishments.  Based on the reports from the advance 
team, Picard was actually prepared to evaluate Calvidia 
in order to offer them associate membership in the 
Federation, should they be interested.  But, still, 
there was something, an edge to the most recent advance 
team reports that tripped a warning alarm in the back 
of Picard's mind.  He worried at it for several hours, 
but it refused to come out into the open, and he 
resolved to give it more attention when he had more 
information.  As it was, the Enterprise was eight days 
out from Calvidia and they were expecting a pre-
arranged communication from the advance team tomorrow.  
Still bothered by that nagging thought, Picard left the 
bridge at the end of his shift.  After a stop for an 
inspection of the forward torpedo launchers, he headed 
eagerly toward his quarters.  He had lessons to learn.

There was, as there had been for the last several days, 
a note on his desk.  "Take a shower and then wait by 
the desk.  Don't eat anything.  Q"  Picard smiled, slid 
the note into a drawer, and headed for the shower.  A 
short time later he was kneeling naked in front of his 
desk, his hands clasped behind his back, his knees 
spread and his weight resting on his heels.  He was a 
little hungry, but long practice enabled him to ignore 
the feeling.  He wasn't so good at ignoring the feeling 
of being aroused, and he wasn't sure if he *was* 
supposed to ignore it or not.  Q was trying to teach 
him to concentrate less on his own desires and more on 
Q's, and Picard wasn't sure that he was getting it yet.  
It was so easy to pay attention to the insistent need, 
and it was proving increasingly easier to beg for what 
he wanted.  He wasn't sure when he was supposed to 
ignore that need and concentrate on Q.   The obvious 
answer was all the time, but Q *liked* to see his 
johnny begging for it.  

Picard sighed slightly as he looked up at his collar.  
It had appeared on the desk while he was in the shower, 
and now he thought about what it meant to kneel in 
front of his own desk, naked and looking longingly at 
the symbol of his servitude. The simple undecorated 
band of black leather was one more thing that helped 
him make his way into his slave-space, one more thing 
that made him become johnny and leave Captain Picard 
behind.  He wanted to feel it close around his throat, 
wanted to hear it "snick" shut as Q locked it. How long 
had he been here?  How long would he be here before Q 
showed up?  While in this space, he wasn't allowed to 
see any evidence of the passage of time.  His initial 
idea of limiting the length of their scenes had quickly 
fallen by the wayside.  Q simply decided when the scene 
was over and so far he hadn't asked Jean-Luc to remain 
in role longer than he could handle.  In fact, Picard 
was of the opinion that he could handle more time than 
he had.  He wondered if Q liked to keep him wanting 
more.  He would, if he were running the show.

He sighed again and tried to concentrate on the here 
and now.  *I'm kneeling, waiting for my Master to come 
and collar me . . . I will kneel here as long as He 
wishes me to . . . God this is hard . . . I wonder how 
long . . . come on johnny, got to stop thinking about 
*me* so much . . . the Master will be here when he 
wants to and not when i want him to . . . i'm not here 
to be satisfied . . . i am here for Him and no one else 
. . .*  He felt it then, the whisper of a brush across 
his mind, and he straightened slightly.

"Bring me the collar, boy," Q's voice said from behind 
Picard.  "Hands and knees."

"Yes Master."  Picard lifted the collar carefully from 
the desk, put it in his mouth, and slowly crawled to 
where Q waited.  His Master sat in one of the chairs at 
the dining table, and there was food on the table.  As 
Picard knelt up to have his collar locked on, he tried 
to ignore the smell of whatever was on the plate in 
front of Q.   It wasn't easy; he caught a hint of basil 
and garlic, and was pretty sure from the glimpse of the 
plate that there was some sort of pasta involved.  
"Please Master, please collar your slave."  The lock of 
his collar snicked and brought his attention back to 
the matter at hand.  As Q's hand withdrew from his 
neck, he turned to kiss it, hoping that such a thing 
would be allowed.  Q chuckled and brushed Jean-Luc's 
cheek.

"Such a sweet boy," Q said fondly.  Picard felt a flush 
steal across his face.  It was embarrassing to hear Q 
say that, while at the same time he felt pride in 
knowing that Q was pleased with him.   When Q suddenly 
cupped his chin, he braced for what was going to happen 
next.  The slap across his cheek was loud and hard, and 
it seemed to send ripples of feeling all the way down 
to Jean-Luc's erect cock.  Letting Q slap him was 
almost as hard as crawling, but it threw him hard into 
that slave-space.  When Q opened his mouth to speak, 
Jean-Luc hung on every word.  "Now, johnny, it's time 
for more lessons.  I don't want to hear you talk 
tonight unless I give you permission.  If you want to 
speak, you can put your head near my foot and wait 
until I give you permission.  Do you understand?"  
Picard bowed his head.  "Good.  I want you under the 
table, johnny.  I need somewhere to rest my feet."  And 
so Picard found himself folded up under the table with 
one of Q's booted feet resting on his back.  

He was nervous at first, straining to hear a command or 
order, afraid to relax.  But slowly  the realization 
came over him; he was here to serve as furniture, 
nothing else.  His own needs had no place here, and he 
began to relax.  In the back of his mind he knew that 
he was still hungry, but the more he accepted that 
*this* was his place, the easier he found it to forget 
that hunger.  Slowly he focused completely what he was 
and Q, as his brain filtered out the normal background 
sounds of his quarters.  Occasionally Q would shift or 
change his position and Jean-Luc was hyper-aware of 
each movement of the foot resting on his back.  Picard 
could hear the sound of Q's fork touching his plate and 
he became aware of the slightest movement of Q's body 
as it was transmitted through his foot.  Soon, although 
he had no idea how soon, his world narrowed down to 
being here under the table.  He was a piece of 
furniture and that was how things were supposed to be.  
When Q moved his foot off his back, Jean-Luc felt 
adrift.  Fortunately, Q spoke.  "I want to read your 
logs from the last two weeks, both your Captain's Log 
and your personal log.  You can speak to bring them up, 
but wait until I'm in the bedroom.  Bring them in on a 
padd."  He rose from the table and walked away.

End 1/5


-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)
========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: ACT Chap 2, 2/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:36:46 GMT


From:
        ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
        REP: ACT Chap 2, 1/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)

At the Center of Things
Chapter Two
2/5
disclaimer in 1/5


It took a few short seconds to bring up the logs and then Picard hesitated.
How was he supposed to bring the padd into the bedroom?   Q had left no
instructions, and Picard felt that he was still too new at this to guess.
Just as he was about the drop to his knees in order to crawl, he heard Q's
voice again.  "*Now* johnny!"  Jean-Luc gulped, and walked into the bedroom
as quickly as he could.  Reaching the side of the bed that Q sat on, he
knelt and offered up the padd.

"Your boy is sorry, Master," he said in a rush; the words tumbling out of
him as soon as Q took the padd.  Q frowned, and Picard realized that he'd
made a very big mistake.

"I thought I told you that I didn't want to hear you unless you had
permission to speak."  Q sighed, and when he spoke again, he sounded
disappointed but not surprised at Jean-Luc's failure.  His Master's tone of
voice brought on a rush of tears that Jean-Luc fought, even though he knew
he probably shouldn't. "I was going to use you as a lap desk, but now . .
"   As his voice trailed off, he snapped his fingers and Picard was
suddenly chained spread-eagled to the wall opposite the bed.  Q tossed the
padd onto the bed, and walked to stand in front of his slave.  He held a
tangle of black, which he shook out.  Jean-Luc's eyes widened; it was a
gag.  He opened his mouth obediently and let Q buckle the gag in place.
"Now you don't have any choice in the matter.  That should make it easier."
Q snapped his fingers again and Picard bit down hard on the gag as he was
suddenly overwhelmed by sensation.  There was a plug in his ass, a pair of
tight and heavy clamps on his nipples, and the snug pressure of a cock ring
around the base of his cock and balls.  He squirmed slightly in a vain
attempt to get used to it all, and Q laughed at him.  "You look lovely,
johnny," his Master said mockingly.  "Black suits you."  And then Q turned
his back on Picard and walked back to the bed.  As he stretched out in
Jean-Luc's line of sight, he picked up the padd and began reading.  He
didn't look up, and Picard began to berate himself for his mistake.

How could he have been so foolish?  For Q to see him fail like this was far
worse punishment than being chained to this wall.  Actually, being chained
to the wall like this wasn't all that bad.  He wished Q would at least look
at him though; it would be nice to think that his Master was getting
*something* out of this.  He thought about punishment for a time.  How
would Q punish him?  If the affair of two years ago had taught them only
one important thing, it was that Jean-Luc was a masochist.  A beating
wouldn't be punishment, and neither would hanging here on this wall,
particularly given all the stimulation he was receiving.  He wanted to
apologize but knew better than to try to get Q's attention in some way;
that had gotten him in trouble in the first place.  He wondered how long he
was going to be left here.  His feet, although spread wide apart, were flat
on the ground, and the position wasn't an uncomfortable one.  Eventually
his shoulders would begin to ache, but he was in very good shape and he
knew he could probably stay here all night.  

As time (and he had no idea whatsoever of how much time) passed, he
wondered what Q wanted him to learn from this.  What was he supposed to be
thinking?  Q seemed engrossed in the logs, which was ridiculous, as he
could absorb the contents of the padd in a nanosecond if he chose to.  As
if in answer to the thought, Q looked up.  He shook his head as if still
disappointed, sighed, and returned to his reading.  Picard felt awful.  Not
even the pleasure he was deriving from his submissive position made up for
having let his Master down.  He wasn't surprised to find his eyes starting
to tear up again.  He fought it, the last thing he wanted to do was start
crying without being able to breathe through his mouth, but then he
remembered Q telling him that he was not allowed to hide his emotions.
When he gulped, it sounded very loud in the stillness of his room.  Q
looked up again and rose smoothly from the bed.

"Well," he said softly, looking into Jean-Luc's eyes.  "Do you know what
you did wrong?"  Tears started sliding out of the corners of Picard's eyes,
and he nodded, aware that he probably looked absurd, crying with this gag
in his mouth.  It didn't matter, he realized.  All that mattered was
letting his Master know how sorry he was for making a mistake.  "When I
tell you to remain silent, you remain silent.  If you make a mistake and
you want to apologize for it, ask for permission to speak."  Picard nodded
again.  Q smiled.  "It's not this easy, of course.  I have to punish you.
In fact, I'll be leaving in a few minutes.  I'll come back in the morning
to take your collar off you and handle some of the . . . side effects of
how you'll be spending your night."  He reached up and removed the gag.  "I
will be playing with you a bit, but I *won't* be monitoring you, boy.  I'm
going to count on you to tell me if you don't make it through the night
with out touching yourself." 

Q snapped his fingers, releasing Jean-Luc, who promptly dropped to his
knees, but did not go any further.  He had nothing to say.  The fact that Q
was going to leave for the night was more than punishment enough for *any*
mistake and he was trying not to break his silence and beg Q to stay.  Q
had said he would return, but still, Jean-Luc had a flash of the night Q
had left him before.  He tried to hide it, but some of his distress must
have shown on his face.  "johnny," Q said softly, crouching down next to
him and touching his face gently.  "I love you, and I *promise* that I'll
be back in the morning.  Now, do you want to call for a stop?"  Picard drew
a deep breath, and shook his head, encouraged by the faint look of relief
on Q's face.  Q stood and looked down at Picard for long moment.  "Then
take your punishment like a good boy."  He vanished in a flash of white
light, and Picard stood carefully.  The clamps and the plug were gone,
although the cock ring was still there.

*Now what?  I deliberately got caught up on everything . . . so what to do?
. . . this is *awful* . . . he must know that I won't bring myself off.*
The minute the thought crossed his mind however, he realized how aroused he
was.  It would feel so good to take care of it right now.  *And are we only
a good boy when the Master is around?* he asked himself scornfully.  Yes it
would feel good, but he really had no intention of disobeying.  This was a
punishment and a test and he damn well intended to get through it.  Oddly
enough, his mind went back to his collection of books.  *Well . . . not the
fiction maybe . . . no point in getting even *more* worked up . . . but
what about the . . . how-to books?  Maybe there are lessons I can learn on
my own.* 

Several moments later he was sitting on the bed, reading about voice
training, and postures.  It was probably a mistake; the reading only made
him more aware of the collar that encircled his throat, and the matching
one that encircled his cock.  *What *do* I look like?*  But even as he
thought about going to the mirror, he felt *something* touch him.  It took
him a moment to figure out that what he felt across his back were the tails
of a flogger.  He dropped the padd and bent over, leaving his back exposed
to any sensation Q chose to deal out.  All he received, however, were the
teasingly slow caresses of the thin leather tails, and then they were gone.
Shaking, he sat up and looked at the chronometer by the bedside. 20:05; it
was going to be a *long* night.  He thought for a moment, and then headed
for the full-length  mirror.  It took a few moments, but he managed to step
in front of the mirror and look.  What he saw, shocked him.  He looked . .
. totally different.  *Like a slave,* he thought.  As if the collar somehow
changed his very face, he saw that his features (even with his current
expression of surprise) seemed, relaxed or softened somehow.  The black
leather of the collar made his pale skin look even paler and, looking down,
he had to admit that the cock ring produced impressive results.  Curiously
he dropped to his knees, settling into the pose Q liked him to wait in.
Closing his eyes for a time, he thought about the way it felt when he
waited for Q like this.  When he opened his eyes again, he blinked in
surprise at the face he saw before him.  *That's not *me* . . .  how can I
let him do this to me? . . . make me feel like this? . . . make me *look*
like this?*  Oh, the face was recognizably his own, but the fleeting
expression he'd caught had been one of wide open vulnerability and need.
It was a far cry from his usual controlled expression and even further from
his Captain's mask.  As he thought about what this (all of this) was doing
to him, how it was changing him, a touch startled him.  Two pair of fingers
were gently toying with his nipples, pinching at them and rolling them
lightly.  He moaned and tilted his head back at the feeling.  He knew
better than to expect any of the harder pinches that usually escalated from
these gentle touches.  He had begun to suspect that if Q played long enough
and hard enough with his nipples, particularly if they had already been
clamped, he might come from that alone.  He wasn't going to find that out
tonight, and as the tease continued, he forced himself to open his eyes and
look at himself.  This time he was prepared and so wasn't as shocked as he
had been, but still the look of open *need* on his face frightened him.  He
closed his eyes again and concentrated on the feelings that surged through
him as a result of the tease.  Far too soon, they were gone, and he was
left on his knees, breathing heavily.  Without opening his eyes, he stood
up carefully, and turned away from the mirror.  When he reached his bed, he
thought about it, and decided that he might as well act like a slave who
was not in his Master's good graces.  He sat on the floor at the foot of
the bed and waited for whatever Q was going to subject him to next.  If he
was allowed to sleep, he figured he'd pull a blanket off the bed and sleep
on the floor.  He didn't know if this was too much, but he resolved to talk
(when Q next permitted him to talk) to Q about this sort of thing.  Thus
far it was proving to be very effective punishment.

***

Q carefully materialized in Jean-Luc's bedroom the next morning.  He smiled
as he looked down at Picard, who was sleeping lightly on the floor at the
foot of the bed.  *You've read too many trashy novels,* he thought
affectionately.  It was a thought that quickly gave way to a more important
feeling.  A rush of pure satisfaction ran through Q like lightning, and the
entity shuddered through it as he looked at the man who had voluntarily
abased himself for Q.  Part of Q's mind was telling him to wake Picard up
and reward him for taking his punishment so well.  Another part wanted to
chain johnny to the wall again and beat him until he screamed.  And yet
another part wanted to . . .  Q reached out one booted foot and nudged
Jean-Luc.  Picard's eyes flew open in an instant and Q could tell that he
was immediately aware of where he was and who was standing over him.
Silently he moved into position, on his knees, bent over, with his head a
few inches from Q's boot.  

"Good boy," Q  said.  "Knees and elbows, ass in the air, quickly!"
Jean-Luc put himself in the desired position quickly, and Q knelt behind
him.  He began to tease Picard with a slick finger, preparing him for sex.
"I'm going to fuck you johnny, but you're *not* allowed to come, do you
understand?" 

Picard nodded, and as Q moved slowly into him, he moaned.  He didn't know
if he had the control required to keep from coming, particularly after the
long night of teasing, but he was determined to try.  He gritted his teeth
and started  mentally conjugating verbs in Latin, trying to ignore the
feeling of Q's cock moving steadily in and out of him.  It was next to
impossible, but he struggled with it, at one point pounding his fists on
the floor.  Fortunately, Q wasn't in the mood to draw things out and soon
Picard heard a smothered groan from behind him.  Even after Q had withdrawn
and (by the sounds he made) moved to sit on the edge of the bed, Jean-Luc
remained in the same position.  

"Kneel up johnny," Q snapped.  Picard hurriedly obeyed, and Q looked him
over in silence for a moment.  Picard knew that he probably didn't look too
good, having spent all of the night on the floor and most of it awake.  He
was also sure that he'd been erect for the entire night.  Even what little
sleep he'd gotten had been full of darkly erotic dreams.  Now he tried not
to break down and ask for the release he'd been denied all night.  "You
want it, don't you?  Want what only *I* can give you?" Q asked.

It was on the tip of Jean-Luc's tongue to agree, to promise anything, even
to say "what ever pleases you Master," but he drew a deep breath and
remained silent.  Q nodded and Picard saw a smile on his Master's face.
Encouraged, he bent forward and put his head near Q's foot.

"You may speak, boy."

"Your slave wants nothing more than to please you, Master."  There had been
times during his training when Jean-Luc had felt that sentences like that
sounded stilted or like lines from a script.  This time, however he meant
every word of it, believed every word of it and knew that it sounded
utterly sincere.

"Stand up," Q said softly.  Picard rose to his feet, just as his alarm went
off.  Q waved a hand and the buzzing stopped.  Picard simply waited,
knowing that if Q was going to do anything or let *him* do anything, it had
to be soon.  He had taken to setting his alarm very late, knowing that Q
would see him clean, dressed and out the door in seconds.  And to be sure,
even now, Q held up his hand, and snapped his fingers.  Jean-Luc felt that
odd *rush* wash over him.  He was no longer hungry, sleepy, and he felt as
if he'd had a shower.  He was in uniform.  That alone made him narrow his
eyes.  While they hadn't really talked about it, he didn't like to still be
in role when he was in uniform.  But the training he been going through and
his own determination not to mess up this time, enabled him to remain
silent.  Q stood and pointed at the floor.  Jean-Luc knelt again.  "What
would please me would be knowing that my slave had truly suffered because
of his error.  And that you suffered merely to be punished for the mistake,
not because you expected a reward at the end of the night.  Go to work
johnny."  He snapped his fingers again and vanished.  For a second, Picard
almost called him back.  How could Q do this to him?  He couldn't work like
*this*, couldn’t make it through the day full of the demanding need that
had plagued him all night.  As he stood, however, he realized that the need
was gone, along  with his collar and his lover.  He didn't feel as if he'd
had an orgasm; he just didn't *need* to come any more.  He supposed if he
thought about it long enough, he could get himself all worked up again, but
that would be a really stupid idea.  Sighing, he tugged at his tunic and
headed out the door.  He didn't like the absence of desire, but then he
smiled to himself.  

*I'm being punished.  I'm not supposed to like it.*  Oddly comforted by
that, he headed down the hall toward the lift.

***

"Why don't I like these recent reports?" Picard asked his Senior Staff a
half an hour later.  He sighed and lowered the padd containing the latest
report from the advance team.  All the coding was right, there were a few
slang phrases in the body of the report, and all in all, there was nothing
that indicated that the report was either a fake or made under duress.  But
that nagging feeling was back in Picard's mind and it was stronger than it
had been yesterday.  "They just don't ring true."

Next to him Riker shook his head.  "We've been over the coding and the
wording of the report, and there's no way it could have been written under
duress."  He frowned.  "I know what you mean though.  I don't like it
either."

"Maybe . . ." Crusher said thoughtfully.  "Maybe it's *too* perfect?"  She
looked at Picard and when he nodded, she continued.  "There's too much
slang, almost like she's trying to prove that the report wasn't made under
duress."

"That's it!" Picard smiled at her.  "Data, I'd like a overview of all the
reports we've had from the Advance team, particularly those written by Dr.
Haynes.  Look for shifts in the style of the writing."

"Yes, Captain."  The android turned to Troi.  "Counselor, I would
appreciate your assistance.  You might be better at catching the subtleties
of language than either the computer or myself."

"Of course Data."

"Well," Picard said, looking around.  "Unless anyone has anything else . .
.?  Dismissed."

***

Data and Troi reported to Picard's ready room toward the end of the watch.
"There is a definite change in the reports written by Dr. Haynes," Data
said, bringing up a graph on Picard's terminal.  "I was able to obtain
several reports written by her for different missions.  In none of them
does she lapse into the vernacular as often as she does in the last four
reports we have received.  In fact there is a 35% increase in her use of
slang in those  reports."

"How current is the slang?" Picard asked.  "Is it at all up to date?
Where's she from anyway?"

"Earth's Moon, more specifically, Tycho City," Troi answered.  "She's been
on this mission for seven months, but before that, she was lecturing at
Aristarchus University, three domes away from her own home.  All of the
slang she uses in her reports would be perfectly acceptable from a Lunar
college professor who talked to her students a fair amount.  Take this
phrase, for example, from the most recent report."  Picking up the padd,
the Counselor read, "'It's an odd fashion statement; makes me think of a
bunch of groupers.'"

"Groupers?" Picard asked.

"'Groupers' is a term that was being used last year on both the Moon and
Earth.  It refers to . . . the nouveau riche, or people who try, yet
somehow fail to be truly trendy."  Troi shrugged as Picard shook his head.
"As I said, it's not what you'd expect from an anthropologist, but Dr.
Haynes is said to be very close to her students.  She's well liked, and
they probably talk to her a lot."

"But," Picard said, frowning slightly, "that doesn't explain why, all of a
sudden, she's changed the style of her reports.  Unless . . ."  His voice
trailed off as he thought.  "It's got to be deliberate.  What if she's
trying to bring something to our attention?"

"The reports are transmitted through subspace, sir," Data said.  "Why would
Dr. Haynes go through such an elaborate subterfuge?"

"If she feels that there's been a breach of security, she may be doing the
only thing that she thinks won't be noticed by the rest of the team.  I
need more information.  I want to know *what* she's talking about when she
uses slang."  

Troi nodded thoughtfully.  "It might help if we had Lt. Sandoval from
Engineering helping us."  In response to Picard's raised eyebrow, she
explained.  "He did a year at LIT before being assigned here."

Picard hid a sigh.  He should have known that.  "Make it so," he said,
quietly.  When the two officers left the room, he pulled up the crew
roster, and began reviewing it.  He'd been immersed in his own problems for
far too long.  Once, he would have known that an assistant in Engineering
had done a year at the Lunar Institute of Technology before reporting
aboard the Enterprise.  Well there was nothing to do but get back on top of
things.  As he thought that, a discreet chime from his terminal announced
the end of the Alpha Watch.   "Oh merde," he muttered.  Data and Troi would
be getting back to him at some point about Dr. Haynes' reports, and he
really ought to review the personnel files.  On the other hand there was Q
and their afternoon and evening plans, whatever those were.  Picard shook
his head and leaned back in his chair.  *Q?* he thought, wondering if he
could get the entity's attention.  There was a pause.

End 2/5

-- 
***************************************************
*    Ruth    |     Visit GiffStein Productions    *
*   Gifford  |  http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ *
*-------------------------------------------------*
*    alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated      *
*    Resistance is possible, but why bother?      *
*-------------------------------------------------*
* Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself!  *
*    http://home.earthlink.net/~ereshkigal        *
***************************************************

"I see nothing wrong with writing sexually 
titillating scenes that have no socially redeeming
value."

Anne Rice to Dorothy Allison
(from "Anne Rice" by Bette Roberts)

========
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated,alt.fan.q
Subject: REP: ACT Chap 2, 3/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)
From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Date: Thu, 19 Mar 1998 07:37:13 GMT


From:
        ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford)
Subject:
        REP: ACT Chap 2, 3/5 (TNG, P/Q, bdsm, NC-17)

At the Center of Things
Chapter Two
3/5
discalimer in 1/5



*Yes, Darling?*  Picard laughed; Q's mental "voice" was overly saccharine.

*You're making my teeth hurt.*

"Poor Johnny," Q materialized right in front of Jean-Luc's desk and before
he could stop himself, Picard glanced at the door.  It was a totally stupid
thing to do, but Picard supposed he couldn't be blamed.  Q was wearing the
black leather that Picard loved to see him in.  Snug pants, black silk
shirt, leather vest, knee high leather boots . . .  It was right out of the
dark fetishistic fantasies that had frightened Picard (while at the same
time beckoning seductively from the corners of his subconscious)  all his
adult life.  Now that those fantasies were real, now that he knew what it
felt like to be owned, he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and
beg to have his collar locked on in spite of the fact that he was on the
job.  Even though Q wasn't reading his mind, he obviously knew the effect
he was having on his lover, for he smiled slightly.  

Fighting the pull of Q's presence and his own desire, Picard remained
seated.  Looking at Q the way he would look at an erring ensign, he said,
"I need to work into the second watch.  I thought you'd want to know that."
Their eyes met and Picard refused to let Q back him down.

"Thank you, Jean-Luc," Q replied, smiling wryly.  "I appreciate the
courtesy.  I'll see you when your work allows."  He vanished from sight,
but not from Picard's subliminal awareness of him.  Jean-Luc sighed, hoping
that he hadn't angered Q too much.  "I'm angry at your damn job, not you."
The voice came from right behind him; Q had materialized behind his chair
and was whispering into his ear.  Picard could smell the rich scent of
leather, and he couldn't help it, he tilted his head forward as if waiting
for the collar.  What he got instead was Q's hand around the back of his
neck.  

It was a gesture of pure ownership and Picard whispered, "Master."

"Goood boy, johnny," Q murmured.  And then, he was gone and Picard was
alone in the stillness of his ready room.

*Oh God . . . why do I let him do that to me? . . . make me feel that way?
. . . because he's your Master . . . but not when I'm the Captain! . . .
but is that right?*  Picard sighed.  He had to work, but  his stomach was
also reminding him that he hadn't eaten since . . . he hadn't been full
since this morning.  He laughed at the unintentional double entendre, and
headed for his replicator.  

As he ate his quesadilla, he wrote in his journal.  Years of being a
starship captain had taught him that doing something other than work during
lunch (if he had the time) made life a lot less stressful.  //Should I tell
him that I don't want to be reminded of my role when I'm on duty?  It would
make my life easier, but Q will *not* be inclined to make my life easier
just so that I can spend time away from him.  Funny how he's managed to
project his worries about the future on me; now *I* worry that we will
never have enough time together.   But I know I'm right.  I won't be able
to be . . . whatever it is that I am for him if I can't be a starship
captain.  That's who he fell in love with and that's what I am.//

//But I'm *also* johnny, his slave.  There are four Rules in the back of
this book that confirm that, and I'm sitting here fighting an erection
because he simply put his hand on the back of my neck where my collar would
be.//   The erection he had been trying to ignore throbbed as he wrote the
words, and he resisted the urge to reach down and touch himself.  //I just
thought about jerking off.  Right here, right now, in my ready room.  When
was the last time *that* thought occurred?  Am I getting too involved in
this?//  He thought about that and then continued writing.  //I don't think
so.  I think this is just the thrill of having what I wanted all these
years, and of knowing that it's *real* this time.  To tell the truth, I
don't really want that thrill to go away.  So what if I have to sometimes
force myself to concentrate on the boring details of my job?  It's not like
I'm going to think about my sex life (no matt