======== Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Subject: NEW: Cold Comfort (TNG, P/Q, NC-17, 1/1) From: psyche27@my-dejanews.com Date: Mon, 12 Apr 1999 08:17:14 -0400 -------- Subject: NEW: Cold Comfort (TNG, P/Q, NC-17, 1/1) Date: Mon, 12 Apr 1999 01:09:20 GMT From: psyche27@my-dejanews.com Organization: Deja News - The Leader in Internet Discussion To: alt-startrek-creative-erotica-moderated@moderators.isc.org Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Title: Cold Comfort Author: Psyche Series: TNG Part: 1/1 Rating: NC-17 Codes: P/Q Summary: Picard is under the weather, and Q wants to play doctor. Disclaimer: The guys belong to Paramount. I'm just helping them have a little fun. There's been so little TNG fiction posted lately that I thought I'd delurk and try to rectify the situation. Cold Comfort by Psyche The first indication of illness came when Picard was barely awake. His mouth felt dry, even more than was usual after a night of oral sex with his omnipotent lover. When he tried to create saliva and swallow it, a sharp pain radiated from the back of his throat. And when he tried to take a deep breath, he realized that all his nasal passages were completely blocked. "Oh, just grand," he muttered hoarsely. Beside him in bed, Q rolled over and opened his eyes. "What...? Oh, a cold. You know, Johnny, just one of the infinite number of advantages to being a Q is immunity to all those annoying little diseases you humans are always picking up." "That makes me feel *so* much better," Picard croaked acidly. "Well, if you'd let me make you a Q..." "Then I could be just as unsympathetic toward the pain of others as you are? No, thanks," said Picard. He crawled out of the bed they shared and reached for a robe while Q ogled his naked body lasciviously. Picard noted the look, but was in no mood to respond as Q hoped. "Would you mind leaving, or at least making yourself presentable?" the captain growled. "I'm calling Beverly Crusher to come give me something for this. I have to meet with the Aeolian delegation this afternoon." Q gave him a look of distaste. "You don't need Red to make you feel better, Jean-Luc. I'll get rid of your cold and make you feel a whole lot better than she ever could, and without any injections. Or at least without injecting any drugs. I may just inject a few other things into that gorgeous body of yours, but I promise you'll enjoy them infinitely more than anything Red could do for you." Shaking his head, Picard said sourly, "How many ways do I have to say it? I'm human. I like being human, even when it means catching colds and having to take drugs to be cured. If I let you use your powers to heal me, I lose a piece of my humanity. You see that, don't you?" "I don't see what's so great about being human anyway," Q pouted. "You fell in love with me as a human," Picard reminded the entity. "If I become a Q, or even less a human, then I'm not the being you love." In a flash, Q was behind Picard, his arms wrapped tightly around the captain's body. "You are, and always will be, the being I love. I don't care if you're human, Q or a paramecium. Just remember that, Johnny.' Q kissed the top of Picard's head before releasing him. "Go ahead, call that shaman of yours if you have to. Let her give you all the magic potions she wants, then get rid of her. I'm going to take care of you." "Take care of me?" Picard raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's right. Fluff your pillows, bring you chamomile tea and toast, put cold compresses on your fevered brow." "You've been reading Victorian novels again, haven't you? I just have a cold, not yellow fever or the ague." Q looked pleadingly at his lover. "But I want to take care of you. If you won't let me cure you, at least let me do all the little things to make you more comfortable. If you must know, Johnny, it actually pains me to see you suffer in any way. Or at least, any way that I don't cause and you don't ask for." Despite his physical discomfort, Picard could not help but smile lovingly at the entity. "Very well, Q. I'm sure Beverly will prescribe a morning of rest in bed, and I would appreciate your company." "Of course, you would," said Q. "I've always been superb at taking care of you in bed." 'Indeed you have," Picard agreed, his eyes shining sweetly. **************************** Crusher was only too happy to administer her injections, recommend bed rest, and then depart hastily. Her willingness to flee was due not only to Picard's history as a horrible patient, or even to Q's presence, but mainly to the fact that a line of people was waiting for her in sickbay with the same symptoms the captain was suffering. When she had gone, Q breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief, provoking a scowl from Picard which the entity easily ignored. "Now, my sweet, off with that robe and let's make you all comfy and cozy. Hmm, I think you need to be wearing some pajamas, though, as sick as you are. How about this?" With a snap of Q's fingers, Picard was clad in a striped flannel nightshirt and matching nightcap. "Or this?" The nightshirt was instantly replaced by fleecy yellow, footed sleepers. "Or maybe this?" Loose-fitting, black silk pajamas appeared on him. "I must say, I like that look on you," the entity remarked. "Actually, I'd be more comfortable without any sleepwear," Picard told him. "I like to feel the silk sheets against my skin." Q leered. "I like to feel the silk sheets against your skin, too," he purred, "but that can wait until your cold is better. Okay, how about a feather bed to make you feel all warm and cozy?" Picard looked up at him and sighed. "I haven't slept on a feather bed since I left LaBarre. That would be lovely. Thank you." Q snapped his fingers and Picard was snug in bed with the downy comforter fluffed up all around him. "What else would you like?" Q persisted. "A hot toddy to help you sleep? Or how about something to make you breather easier?" A moment later the bed was surrounded with a virtual grove of eucalyptus branches, and a warm mug had appeared in Picard's hand. "The eucalyptus is a nice touch," said the human. "I'm breathing deeper already." He looked down into the mug and sniffed at it. "But it's much too early in the day for brandy. However, I can think of something even more pleasant to help me fall asleep." He grinned crookedly at his lover. "Oh?" said Q, being deliberately obtuse. "I'm not sure I know any lullabies." "Q. . ." Picard growled, holding open the blankets in invitation. The entity could resist no longer. He dove into the bed and snuggled close to the man he loved, wrapping his arms around the smaller frame. "You're sure you won't catch what I've got?" asked Picard, before relaxing into the embrace. "I'll gladly catch one thing you've got," said Q, crawling deeper under the covers to take Picard's cock into his mouth "Ahh," the captain groaned with pleasure. "I believe I'm feeling better already." Q continued his ministrations, licking around the balls and the base of the shaft, kissing his way up its full length, then nibbling gently around the crown. "Definitely feeling better," Picard managed, as blood rushed to his groin and a shudder of delight rolled over him. Q's hand replaced his mouth on the turgid cock, and he began to stroke the organ slowly as he kissed his way along the flat stomach, over the hard abs and up to the solid pectoral muscles. His tongue lazily circled one nipple and then the other, wetting them both before blowing softly across them. Shivers consumed Picard, who reached for his lover, pulling Q up to his mouth for a fierce, passionate kiss. "What would you like, my love?" Q murmured into the inviting mouth. "Anything. Everything. You've been doing just fine so far." Q smiled down, the purity of ardour shining in both men's eyes. Then he resumed the kiss as he pressed his entire body atop Picard's leaner form. Chest to chest and hips to hips, their warm bellies molded together, and their stiff cocks met, each one stiffening even further at the contact. All thoughts of illness or pain were banished from Picard's mind, overtaken by lust and a craving for more from his omnipotent partner. He thrust his tongue hungrily into Q's mouth as he ran his hands frantically over the entity's shoulders and biceps and back and buttocks. Again and again he rubbed, needing even more contact, more sensation, more warmth. "Umm, suddenly I'm feeling much better," he managed to gasp out between kisses. "You feel just fine to me," Q growled. "Actually, you feel fan*fucking*tastic. Speaking of which..." He pulled away just enough to lift Picard's legs, draping them over his own shoulders. Picard inhaled sharply, opening himself fully and waiting with the same sense of awe he always felt when Q was about to enter him. And then Q's cock was covered with lubrication, poised at the entrance and pushing gently inside him. He sighed at the perfection with which they fit together while Q penetrated him to the hilt. "Oh, yes," breathed Picard, feeling as though he had been made whole once again. The tight pressure of Q's organ inside him was like a hand around his heart, reminding him of the deep fullness of his love for Q. They lay together for several minutes, barely moving, except for the tender kisses they exchanged. The sweetness of it all was perfect for Picard, and he would have been content for that moment to last a lifetime. But his insistent cock had other ideas. It demanded his attention finally, and just when the need was becoming uncomfortable, Q reached down to wrap his fingers around the blood-engorged organ. He stroked it gently, at the same time beginning to thrust slightly with his own cock. Picard moaned his satisfaction, cueing the entity to gradually increase the pace of his motions. In response, Picard began to thrust his own hips, driving his cock further into Q's hand on the upstroke while taking Q more deeply inside on the downstroke. His tension spiraled higher, and he grabbed at Q, needing to feel every part of the entity's body. Q ducked his head to take Picard's left nipple into his mouth, biting none too gently, and Picard screamed in ecstasy. His buttocks clenched tightly around Q's cock, which drove Q to clasp Picard's penis more firmly. And suddenly they were both out of control, consumed by the white-hot fire of orgasm. ************** Picard was still overcome with post-coital lethargy when he felt Q slip from inside him. "There's always such a sense of loss when you do that," he murmured sadly. "I only pull out of you so we'll have the chance to do it all over again," Q assured him. Picard smiled happily. "Yes, let's." "Just what the doctor ordered," Q said smugly. "Take two ass-fuckings and call her in the morning." "Shut up and kiss me again." the end -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==---------- http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Posting to ASCEM is easy: send your messages to http://www.onelist.com/subscribe.cgi/ASCEML