From varoneeka@aol.com Sun Sep 14 08:43:47 1997
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From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: On Her Majesty's Secret Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 1/4
Date: 14 Sep 1997 15:43:47 GMT
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This is an NC-17 P/Q story, sixth (Good Lord) in a series:  "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," and
"Q-raker," all of which are archived (or are soon to be archived) at The
Star Trek Slash Archive.  You can also ask me for the earlier stories if
you like.  This story is decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely
stories, no question).  No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men
(kinda) or lots of love-talk should read any further.

Feedback is greatly appreciated -- please please please!! -- at
Varoneeka@aol.com

Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys.  I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!

*On Her Majesty's Secret Q*

	Her Royal Highness, Queen of the Alstriad, did not hesitate to
have them brought before her, adjusting her bright, multicolored ceremonial
robes as she relaxed in her modest throne with a welcoming smile.  Her
long, dark hair slid thickly over her left shoulder to pool in her lap, and
her darkly blue eyes gazed with a bright anticipation of this meeting.  She
had never had Federations before.
	There was something perfectly delicious in possessing something so
many others wanted, and though she knew the Federation would not pay as
much as others would for the sklothym ore, she would rather deal with such
honorable and dependable people, as opposed to the Ferengi Alliance or the
Romulans.  Honorable and dependable people could be predicted, could
be...useful.
	She considered herself, after all, dependable.
	There were fewer of them than she had expected:  five, in all.
	The tall one caught her eye first, she admitted to herself later
with some amusement.  He was flamboyant:  large and cute in a hairy-faced
kind of way.  At his side walked a darkly beautiful woman for whom this
tall man cared rather deeply, but it was obvious they had nothing settled. 
A lovely woman with blonde hair (dyed) stood at her side.  Deep at her core
was some sort of sorrow, and Her Highness moved quickly onto the strange,
pale-skinned android whose feelings were more pallid than his complexion,
and then, finally, with the feeling of saving the choicest for last, she
looked at the leader.
	Power.  Every motion of his compact, muscled frame announced it as
he and the others knelt respectfully on the large cushions splayed before
her.  Power and authority and intelligence.  His face was more pronounced
than she usually cared for, and he was older than any of her consorts had
been before.
	But then when he looked at her she sensed something more
compelling even than power.  There was a deep, unshakable contentedness
about the man.  He had a lover who kept him happy, someone who met his
needs and more, someone who almost seemed to shine out of his eyes as he
looked at her with magnanimous respect.  His entire manner proclaimed that
he had found what he was looking for, and even as he recognized her
overwhelming beauty, she realized he felt no inner response to it at all.
	How lovely.

	*More, please.*
	It was a simple request, and one Q's lover was happy to grant.
	Picard loved this.  Q was sprawled out naked on his couch, hands
gripping and releasing the empty air, his skin glistening with sweat, his
chest wrenching up and down, his legs pressed between the cushions and
Jean-Luc's hands, his hips pushing forward, his whole body matching his
mind's request for more.  Little sounds of pleasure escaped him as Picard
worked to give him all he could, and yet this was before he would become
frantic, before he would arch and shudder and come.  This was still the
spiraling increase of pleasure and love that wrapped around them both as
Picard sucked deeply and worked his tongue around every ridge and curve,
still seeking out some new spot or application of pressure that would bring
more joy to the one he loved.
	Q was showing him something now, an image of the both of them,
naked on the couch, Q's legs spread and Jean-Luc's head moving up and down
at their juncture.  And with the image came Q's near inability to believe
that Picard would do this for him, be like this with him.
	And Picard sent the image back, an exact copy with one addition: 
they were both wearing funny hats.
	*I'd do anything to please you, my love.*
	Q began to laugh, throwing up his arms and wallowing deeper into
the cushions as Jean-Luc continued his perfect movements.  A finger teased
him, and Q eagerly added the lubrication needed to allow that finger to
slide into him, which it did, over and over, helping to bring him swiftly
and deliciously towards release.
	And then, damn him, Picard stopped him with pressure at the base
of his cock, waiting until the impulse was temporarily suppressed, then
bending back down to his task.
	*That's enough of that, if you don't mind.*
	Picard laughed, almost gagging when he forgot to be careful.  He'd
learned how to read Q's thoughts at multiple levels now, and the difference
between those preemptory words and the desperation under them was a delight
beyond reason.  He thought about kissing a light pattern around the head of
Q's penis to draw things out just a bit longer, and Q, picking up on the
thought, pushed his hips forward with a loud groan.
	*If I don't come soon I'm not going to let you fuck me tonight.*
	*Yes, you will.*  The thought was smug, but Q easily heard the
love under it, so he wasn't too surprised -- just overjoyed -- when Picard
suddenly thrust two fingers deeply inside him as he moved his lips down the
whole length of Q's erection, sucking hard.  The heat washed through the
entity with a deep intensity that somehow only perfected the lazy
afternoon.  He seemed almost to come in slow motion; each long, deep,
deliberate wave of pure pleasure drawn out along each sluggish nerve as it
centered in that delicious release.  He felt Picard swallow and swallow and
concentrated his feelings so that his semen was filling the man with the
languid joy of his deeply contented love.  With a sigh he shuddered through
the final aftershock and oozed bonelessly into the soft cushions.
	Picard moved up and lay beside him, not speaking for a long time,
though his erection pressed eloquently into Q's thigh.
	But when Q stirred, Picard held him closer.
	*No hurry.  It is a slow sort of day.*  With the meeting with the
queen over, there was really nothing more to do until tomorrow, and it
wasn't even close to the evening yet.  
	Q smiled, eyes closed, and lay there awhile longer, until he felt
more than ready, and then reached over and trailed a gentle touch along
that silk-wrapped steel.
	*You really so sure you get to stick that in me?*
	Picard chuckled.  *Yes.*
	*You really think you get to put something so hard and covered in
gunk into my pristine body?* 
	*I'll do it without the gunk if you like.*
	*Hmmm.  It would still be hard.*
	Picard's chuckles were growing into belly laughs as his body began
slowly to reposition itself while shoving a throw pillow under Q's hips.
	*That is the idea.*  Deliberately, he allowed his penis to move
over Q's buttocks, then to slide up and down along the cleft.  Ordinarily,
Q would start to get urgent now, but Picard's delays matched their shared
torpor.  Savoring every sensation, the man spread Q open with his strong
hands and placed just the tip of himself there, letting a slow pulse of
anticipation tingle through him completely before pushing inside.
	"Ughhhhh," Q said, moving just a bit to give his lover better
access.  *Presumptuous human.*
	*Overbearing Q-thing.*  One slow thrust deep inside, then just
holding himself there.  One, two, three thrusts, and then a few kisses on
the soft skin over the curves of his spine.
	*Smug little primate.*  Q reached back with the hand not buried in
the crook of the sofa and caressed Picard's hip.
	*Officious demi-god.*  Another withdrawal and thrust, then
another, then more kisses.
	*Federation marionette.*  Q spread his legs further, arching his
back, as his hand fell towards the floor.
	*Continuum lackey.*  Reaching up, he ran his fingers through the
dark hair of Q's head, then trailed a warm palm down his back, then
withdrew and thrust deeply several times, eyes closing with the bliss of it.
	*You call this fucking?*  Q's hips pushed back slowly, perfectly
matched to Picard's pace, and at the same rhythm clenched and unclenched
the muscles around the man's rock-hard erection.
	"Oooooh."  *Hm, my regular date canceled and you're the best I
could do on short notice.*  He altered the angle of his thrusts slightly,
feeling Q's shudders as he came into better contact with that tiny gland. 
Q was beginning a low rumbling series of groans that vibrated through them
both, and the captain had to concentrate tightly to keep his rhythm slow
and even.  Sweat was trickling down the backs of his legs and shimmering
over Q's smooth back.
	Arching down, Picard licked a long trail over that back, then
moved his tongue in lazy circles, enjoying the taste of his excited lover,
nibbling on the edge of his shoulder blade.  Q's lower back pressed against
his stomach as he stopped thrusting, laying there buried deep in that tight
warmth that welcomed him, that wanted him, that even now slowly gripped and
relaxed around him.
	*This is all I ever want to do anymore.*
	*Starfleet Command will be somewhat dismayed by your letter of
resignation.*
	*From Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain USS Enterprise, to Starfleet
Command.  Dear Sirs:  I regret to inform you that I find exploring the
universe is less of a challenge than exploring my lover's gorgeous body.*
	*From Starfleet Command to Picard, Captain, USS Enterprise.  Dear
Jean-Luc:  We've seen him and we can't blame you.*
	Laughing and thrusting in rhythm to that deliriously perfect
clenching and releasing warmth, Jean-Luc set himself towards some serious
fucking, gripping Q's hips tightly and driving himself into that heat over
and over.  Q began to make those little whimpers and jerks that signaled
the beginnings of a powerful orgasm, and Jean-Luc thought about slowing
down, then sped up instead, waiting for the request that would remove the
last hesitation.
	"Ahhh...harder, please!"
	"Yes!  Yes!"  *You feel so good.  My perfect lover.*
	And then Q reached out, wrapping them both together in the languid
joy of loving sensation and sweaty physicality, focusing them both on every
detail of this joining, combining their awareness of each other in yet one
more new position that brought new pleasure, new excitement.
	Hitting the boundary and then breaking through it together, they
groaned and pushed together one last time before the last of them was spent
and, in keeping with the spirit of the day, then drifted slowly off to
sleep, plastered together by sweat and semen and the sated contentment of love.

	"I must admit I was really quite impressed," Captain Picard said,
unconsciously running a relaxed hand over his head.  "One so seldom meets a
planetary monarch."
	"At least one who seems to enjoy really acting like a monarch,"
Beverly agreed, trying not to stare at Jean-Luc and wondering if he had any
idea he had an "I've just been laid" look on his face.  His body was not
sitting in his chair as much as it seemed to have been poured into the
seat, and the gliding quality of his gestures was making it difficult to
concentrate on her jellied croissant.
	The queen had certainly noticed him, the doctor thought, wondering
if it were somehow possible that her friend hadn't recognized the constant
threat of drool the monarch had posed while she talked about the terms of
extracting the sklothym ore.  Alstriad was one of the richest worlds in the
sector, protected by a variety of allies who wanted access to the ore, and
the sovereign herself was the richest person on her world.  Her eyes were
used to owning what they looked on, and they had looked on Jean-Luc a lot.
	But then Beverly reminded herself that the captain was hardly in
any danger.  The queen could plot all she liked, she wasn't getting
Jean-Luc away from Q, and would end up looking foolish if she tried.
	"You're right," the man sitting across from her said, making her
blink.  "It was obvious that she enjoys her position, and that, moreover,
she wants everyone to realize she enjoys her position.  I couldn't help
wondering at the time whether it's part of her function as the Alstriadian
ruler to enjoy so overtly the luxury of her people's fortune.  A sort of
advertisement for their collective happiness."
	*Oh, is *that* what you were thinking of, Jean-Luc?*  Beverly hid
her smile in her coffee cup.
	"You think it might be a pose, then?" she asked instead.  "And
that she only gouged us for the price so that everyone will think she's
doing a good job?"
	"Well," he smiled, "I'm sure she had other motives as well.  An
economy like that can't sustain itself for long without importing in profit
fifty times what it exports in goods."
	"And there's their image to maintain," Beverly said, distracting
herself with a private realization.  As long as she had known Jean-Luc, he
had been severely controlling of his own image.  The fact that he was
currently relaxed, that he looked so completely at ease, was a testament
not to Q's power over him, but the depth of her friendship with Jean-Luc. 
And if she hadn't been so jealous of his happiness -- yes, finally, she
admitted it -- she would have known that immediately.
	And yet, in admitting her jealousy, she knew it wasn't really fair
or true.  She wasn't so much jealous of his happiness as in awe of it, and
so, suspicious of it.  She was greatly impressed at how little he had
changed as a captain, how unaffected had been his authority and competence,
since he had become lovers -- or whatever one would call it -- with Q, when
she thought of how extraordinary had been the change in his personal life. 
When he wasn't on duty, when he relaxed around his friends, Jean-Luc glowed
with contentment and seemed sometimes in danger of purring like a cat.  He
had taken to making the oh-so-occasional smug and outrageously funny remark
at the poker game, and smiled indulgently at Deanna and Will's increasingly
overt romance.
	And now, finally, with her he wasn't hiding his happiness at all. 
She felt honored and touched at the recognition of what that special degree
of relaxation in his posture meant, and, without thinking about it,
suddenly reached across the table and took his hand, smiling her pleasure
for him with an openness to match his own.  He met her eyes almost merrily,
and squeezed back with declarative firmness of good will.
	"So," she said after a moment as they released each other and
settled back with their coffee cups, "what topics are scheduled for today?"
	He frowned.  "Starfleet Command have made it very clear that we
are to establish whatever Federation presence on this world that we can. 
Ideally, this could become an important trade route.  Unfortunately, the
question of just whose trade route it might become is still a matter of debate."
	"It will be difficult for us, since we're not prepared to give out
the sort of profit the Ferengi will."
	"Hmm.  Or the sort of military support they could get from the
Klingon Empire.  There's even speculation that the Romulans have made
offers.  Things really could go poorly if we don't make a good impression."
 He smiled.
	"Jean-Luc..."  She took a breath and set down her cup.  "Are you
aware that the queen was showing rather overt...interest in you?"
	The frown grew puzzled.  "Interest?"
	"Yes.  In you.  As a man."
	"Oh, really, Beverly!"
	"It's a simple observation, Jean-Luc.  And one you shouldn't be
blind to."  She had to work hard to keep a smile off her face.  Her friend
actually looked flustered.  But then, he had never been all that good at
this sort of thing.  She found herself wondering what he did when Q said
nice things.
	"Well..."  He seemed to consider and discard a variety of
responses.  "I'm sure the monarch is used to having admirers and won't care
that one starship captain isn't interested in returning her...attentions." 
He took a sip of coffee, then looked at her.  "What?"
	"Nothing."  Beverly shook her head and put her napkin on the
table.  "Lovely having breakfast with you, as always."
	Picard watched her go, shrugging slightly as he took one more sip
of coffee, set the cup on the table and leaned back.  Warm hands settled on
his shoulders, creating something between a rub and a caress.
	"Chatty this morning, wasn't she?"
	"Why didn't you join us?"  The captain had known his lover was
near for the last minute or so.
	"And break up such a lovely scene?"  Jean-Luc's hands had come
back towards Q, stoking the material of his uniform over his chest,
reaching up for his arms.  Q bent down and kissed the top of his head, then
his ear, then finally, as the captain turned, his lips.  They tasted of
coffee and sweet jelly and the uniqueness that was his lover and he
plundered them with a sudden rise of hunger.  His tongue ran along them,
then immediately inside them, then deeply beyond them to meet and stroke
Jean-Luc's tongue, and his whole human body began to hum with it.  Kneeling
down now, he wrapped his arms around that trim form and shuddered as the
man slid forward in his chair to wrap Q up tightly as well.  
	"Riker to Captain Picard."
	Picard gently broke the kiss, not moving anything else.
	"Yes, Commander?"
	"Her Highness has requested that we beam down to continue our
talks in half an hour, sir.  She's also asked that we present a gift for
supplication."
	"A what?"  Q had moved slightly, pushing a hand between them to
run along the inside of Picard's thigh.  The captain glared at his lover,
who smiled back serenely.
	"It's not a part of the standard talks," Riker said.
	"Captain," Data's voice came over the comm.  "I have studied this
custom in some detail. I believe that the monarch is extending an honor to
the ship and to you personally.  The gift should reflect the Federation's
willingness to please the people of Alstriad and Her Highness herself.  The
most common gift in such an instance is jewelry."
	The captain deeply suppressed the deeper groan his whole body
wanted to produce as Q's hand worked its back-and-forth way towards the top
of his thigh.  The expression in those dark brown eyes was growing dark and
earnest.
	"Yes, Data.  Replicate something appropriate."
	"Aye, sir."
	"I'll see you both in the transporter room in twenty-five minutes.
 Picard out."  The second the computer signaled that the comm line was
broken he gave out that groan, letting the last of it smother inside Q's
warm mouth as he searched for the responses he needed.  Q's hands were
working on his uniform, however, and suddenly his growing erection was
freed and Q was breaking the kiss to bend down and take him in with that
sudden depth that made him roar.  He grew immediately rock-hard as those
sensual lips sucked and that skilled tongue caressed.
	And then he forced his bliss-closed eyes open and looked down at
the sight of Q on his knees in front of him, his dark head bent to that
intimate task, and rode a wave of disbelief that Q would do this for him,
no matter that he had done it so many times over the last six months
(relatively speaking).  Jean-Luc never thought he could get used to the
sight, to the knowledge of just where his penis was right now, and just
what was happening to it.
	As carefully as he could, reverently, he put his hands into that
hair and stroked the clean, fine feel of it, the backs of his fingers
picking up the warm feel of his scalp.
	"Ohhhhh," he breathed, not wanting to come too soon.  "I love you.
 I love what you do with me.  I love that...you're here with me.  I
love...I love...ooh, yes, that's it...God, Q...oh, please, more...yes..."
	But then right before his body started on that hot surge of
sensation, Picard felt Q let go of him and raise his head to look into his
eyes, his lips wet with saliva and his lover's precum.
	"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have Her Highness here?"
	Picard couldn't even figure out what that was supposed to mean and
simply stared at him before shaking his head and then pulling slightly on
Q's head with the hands wrapped in his hair. 
	"Please...love...don't stop."
	"Beverly seemed to think there was something going on there."
	"What?  With that...?"  Picard simply couldn't deal with even this
teasing display of jealousy, and now one of Q's long fingers was caressing
his wet, pulsing erection, driving him further from his intellect and
deeper into sheer lust.  *Q, if I don't come soon I'm not going to let you
fuck me tonight.*
	Q laughed, his relieved look unnoticed by his desperate lover. 
*Yes, you will.*  Then he bent down to finish what he started, licking over
that part of his lover that he had found so silly in humans when he'd first
learned of it, then found so...not silly when he'd met Picard.  He settled
the tip of his tongue down in that soft, sensitive crease of the glans,
lingering there, tasting and feeling Picard's whole body respond with
little movements urging him to do more.
	He loved this.  So deeply did he love this that it worried him at
times.  Human sexual practices were terribly physical, after all, and
hardly complex enough to warrant the time that he spent thinking about
them.  Sometimes, when he was far from the Enterprise while his lover was
on duty, he found he could not concentrate on anything for the images of
Picard that assaulted him, that rode him and drove him back to the ship
simply to wait for Jean-Luc to be free.  Kneeling down like this, letting
now the tip of his tongue trace the outline of the head while Picard almost
whimpered, almost tugged Q down over his erection by the hair, almost
shouted at him to do more, Q felt his own impossible joy at bringing this
human pleasure, in taking him to ecstasy in deliberate movements of just
his tongue and hands.
	Cupping that warm sac with his right hand, he placed his left on
Picard's knee, feeling his increased warmth and the tremble of his leg even
through the material of his uniform.  Lightly his tongue trailed up of the
side of Picard's cock, then down and up while the man involuntarily moved
into that hot wetness.  Q did it again.  And again.
	"Please, Q...*please.*  What are you doing to me?  Please...love. 
I don't...please..."
	Realizing abruptly that he'd gone a little too far with this, Q
quickly took him in all the way, sucking hard, releasing slightly to twirl
his tongue, then sucking harder.
	Soon, the man came, violently, gasping.  In repentance, Q cleaned
him with his tongue thoroughly, then kissed that soft skin and tucked him
in again before fastening his uniform and finally meeting Picard's eyes.
	"And what," that deep voice asked quietly, "was all that about?"
	Q remained kneeling in front of him, kept his hand on his knee. 
"Just keeping you off-balance."
	"There's off-balance and there's dead.  Do that again and you'll
kill me."
	Briefly Q considered answering that comment honestly.  But no, it
really wasn't time for that talk yet.  Instead, he just smiled darkly.
	"Be good, Mon Capitaine."
	Picard looked at the flash where his lover has been, aware that
for once Q hadn't cleaned him completely.  He was covered in sweat and only
had a few minutes before he was to meet the away team.  Stripping off his
uniform, hopping in and out of the sonic shower, and getting dressed again
kept his body busy, but his mind was wandering freely in its confusion. 
Why had Q been so odd?  He hadn't been so distant since...well, he had
never been quite so detached while doing *that.*  Picard hadn't felt him in
his thoughts at all, nor had he seemed even to be paying strict attention
to what he was doing.  The captain felt almost insulted, and greatly disturbed.
	But there was no time to think about it now.  There would have
been, if Q had stayed around long enough to fix up a temporal anomaly. 
Picard would rather have spent weeks out of time than go down to the planet
with such uncertainty hanging over him.
	*Q!  If you would come back here we could talk about this!*
	Nothing.  Q was not nearby.  Picard felt horribly alone and bereft.  

END OF PART ONE

"O what a piece of work is man." -- Hamlet

From varoneeka@aol.com Sun Sep 14 08:46:30 1997
Path: Supernews69!Supernews60!supernews.com!cpk-news-feed3.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: On Her Majesty's Secret Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 2/4
Date: 14 Sep 1997 15:46:30 GMT
Lines: 402
Message-ID: <19970914154600.LAA28731@ladder01.news.aol.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com
X-Admin: news@aol.com
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
SnewsLanguage: English
Xref: Supernews69 alt.fan.q:6565

This is an NC-17 P/Q story, sixth (Good Lord) in a series:  "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," and
"Q-raker," all of which are archived (or are soon to be archived) at The
Star Trek Slash Archive.  You can also ask me for the earlier stories if
you like.  This story is decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely
stories, no question).  No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men
(kinda) or lots of love-talk should read any further.

Feedback is greatly appreciated -- please please please!! -- at
Varoneeka@aol.com

Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys.  I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!

*On Her Majesty's Secret Q*

	Nothing.  Q was not nearby.  Picard felt horribly alone and bereft.  
	Tugging his uniform strictly into place, Picard walked from the
room, down the hall, in and out of the turbolift and then into the
transporter room with the exact same expression on his face.
	"They've signaled that they're ready to receive us, Captain,"
Riker said, standing in his dress uniform with Data, Crusher, and Troi.
	"Good.  Is that the gift, Mr. Data?"
	"Aye, sir."  The android said, holding out the ornate wooden box
he'd replicated.  At the captain's nod, he opened the top to reveal an
ornate but extremely tasteful necklace of gold, diamonds and rubies.  "It
is a Terran-based imitation of the Fifth Alstriadian Coronation jewels,
given four hundred years ago to the current monarch's ancestor as a sign of
peace between two warring factions."
	"Excellent, Mr. Data."  He watched his second officer close the
box, then took it and nodded at the others to get on the transporter pad. 
As he climbed the few steps himself, he felt off-balance.  For a
half-second, his anger at Q threatened to reach the surface, but he shoved
it down ruthlessly and took his own place on the pad.
	"Energize," he ordered, watching the familiar sparkles change the
world until he was standing outside the throne room.  After a minute or so
making empty remarks to one of Her Highness' advisors, they were let inside
the chamber and Picard made a speech to the beautiful queen before passing
over the gift.
	From his corner, cut off from Picard by an act of sheer and
ruthless will, Q watched the away team enter the room, steadily tracking
each movement by Picard and the queen.
	The pain he had felt when Crusher had mentioned the queen's
interest in him, and at Picard's casual reply, had been powerful.  But he'd
managed to shrug it off at first, believing that his lover would have no
interest in anyone but himself, and so had done to Picard what he'd planned
before he'd overheard the conversation.
	But the pain wouldn't go away.  In fact, once he'd looked into
matters on the planet, it had increased to the point where he'd almost
changed history to keep the Enterprise from coming here, and to keep this
creature from ever laying eyes on his Jean-Luc.
	But he hadn't.  It was impossible to create such a deception,
impossible to live forever without the certainty that Picard could, in
fact, resist her.
	And now Q felt that old familiar feeling, one that Picard's love
had almost driven away and which came rushing so easily back to possess
him:  he hated himself.  If Picard succumbed to Alstriad's ruler, he could
hardly be blamed.  Her whole life was spent seeing to it that people
succumbed to her, and Q could easily look over that life and see how
successful she had been.
	And yet still Q wanted Jean-Luc to be her failure, wanted him to
be more than human, wanted him to snub her and want no one but Q.  Even as
he knew better than she how many had embraced her charms, as he saw their
happy surrender -- men, women, human, Klingon, Rumulan, Vulcan -- and felt
her joyous  triumph, he wanted his lover to feel nothing for her and revel
in the knowledge that he could be so greatly loved.  
	But though he despised himself for that desire, he stayed in his
corner and watched.  He hadn't even warned Picard what he was facing.
	*He told me not to warn him.  He told me he wants to explore the
galaxy without me telling him what he'll find,* Q told himself, and then
felt his self-disgust deepen.
	"It's a beautiful present," the queen was purring.  One of her
footmen bowed, took the box, and placed it on a table on the side of the
room.  "You Federations are really quite remarkable."
	"We have many cultures which make up our Federation, embracing all
manner of societies and rituals, and yet each of them understands the
beauty of gifts," Picard said.  "We're honored to be able to negotiate with
you in good faith for both the ore and for your friendship."
	"Do you see friendship as a matter of negotiation, then?"  She
smiled at him, and the first tendril of desire snaked across the room to
brush him lightly.
	"Yes, at first.  The good ones make it past the opening rounds
with trust and a mutual appreciation of each other's values, skills,
interests -- whatever the two parties want from one another."
	"And the bad ones?"  Another tendril, a bit more insistently.
	"Take a bit longer to arrive at that appreciation."
	She raised her eyebrow at him, shifting slightly in her chair,
sending out a third tendril.  "So you think the Romulans, for example, are
simply taking their time in coming to appreciate you?"
	"Well, there's certainly much for both of us to learn from each
other, and I personally have met more than one Romulan I would be proud to
call a friend."
	"You sound as though you were pleased with the relations between
your peoples."  Another, very powerful tendril now.  More like a tentacle,
and her aim was a little broad.  Riker and Troi were both putting all their
effort into not jumping atop each other, Crusher was astonished to find
herself in the middle of an erotic fantasy about Odan, and Data found that
he was meticulously and favorably comparing the Alstriad Queen's attributes
with those of the Borg Queen.
	"'Pleased' is too strong a word."  Picard nodded his head,
searching for the right words.  "But I think that if one considers the vast
differences in our cultures, our value system, or religions, even our
aesthetics, we have not done so poorly that we need to be ashamed, even
while we must acknowledge that there is room for improvement.
	"No cause for shame at all," the queen said rather abruptly,
signaling her footmen.  "I must turn now to the other business of the day. 
I hope, Captain Picard, that you and your officers will do me the honor of
joining my guard at dinner tonight."
	"Yes, thank you."  Picard stood and the others followed, Riker
greatly relieved that he wasn't embarrassing himself by doing so.  Troi
found herself suppressing a wicked grin.
	With a regal nod, she let them go, and with a captain's nod,
Picard and the others left.
	Angrily, the queen ordered everyone to leave her alone, then went
to take a scented bath and think things through.  She had never failed her
position so greatly before, and she knew this was not some mistake in her
chosen project.  She could *feel* the pleasure of the man, could *taste*
the joy that could be shared.  Everything about the captain screamed
intimacy and a downright tangible lust.  What was she if she couldn't
access that?
	Q couldn't believe it.  Picard hadn't even noticed her!  Not a
single one of her telepathic snares had found its prey, the unspent
backlash flaring out to touch the others while Picard sat there and talked
about the negotiations of friendship!
	Q had no idea his relationship with Picard had affected his
telepathy to this extent.  Or was that even the issue?  Picard had always
been incredibly disciplined and strong-willed.  Perhaps even without Q's
interference in his life he still wouldn't have noticed her.
	And then Q shook himself away from that and forced himself to
acknowledge that what he had most wanted was true:  Picard hadn't paid
attention to that self-appointed goddess of lust because he loved Q.  By
whatever combination of Q's influence and his own will brought this to
pass, it was Picard's love for him that had made it so.
	With a flick of his mind he chilled the queen's bath, causing her
to scream for her servants, then transported himself a hundred light-years
outside Picard's galaxy, wrapped himself up into a ball of energy, and
exploded with sheer joy.

	Picard stepped down from the transporter pad without noticing the
looks Riker and Troi were sending each other, or that Crusher headed
immediately to Holodeck Four.
	With even steps he walked to the turbolift, turned, called out his
deck, and watched the doors close.
	"So things went well, Mon Capitaine?"
	Picard looked at Q quietly.  The entity waited a moment before
trying again:
	"Something amiss?"
	Picard looked at the doors.
	"Jean-Luc?"  Q moved closer and watched with concern as Picard
leaned slightly away.  
	"Do you want to tell me what you think you were doing?" the
captain asked finally.
	"When?"
	Those hazel eyes met the dark brown ones again, hinting at scorn. 
"Are you going to lie to me now?"
	Q wrapped his arms around himself, disguising it as simply
crossing them.  He recognized that the lift was about to stop and open its
doors.
	"You've moved us out of time," Picard noted without emotion.
	"You're getting very good at noticing that."
	"You could have taken us out of time earlier.  You could have
talked to me about whatever was on your mind instead of running away from me."
	Q began to squirm.
	"And now you're back, completely unprepared and unwilling to give
me an explanation for your behavior.  And I can feel your closeness again,
just as it was before.  And the fact that for over two hours I could feel
nothing, as though you had ceased to exist, you want that to mean nothing."
	"Jean-Luc..."
	"Yes, Q?"
	"She isn't what she appears."
	Picard frowned.  "Who isn't?"
	"The Alstriad Monarch.  She's an empath, and a powerful one."
	A moment went by in silence.  "Yes?"
	"She wants you.  She was trying to get you."
	Anger began to creep over those aquiline features.  "I see."
	"She's never failed before, not someone she really wanted.  Her
emotional manipulation of others is the main reason she was made queen."
	His bottom lip drawn up, Picard stared at Q until the entity was
practically hopping with anxiety.  
	"You told me not to warn you!  You said you didn't want to know
about things like that."
	"Q."  Picard took in and then released a deep breath, but did not
relax with it.  "Were you there, in the throne room, with us?"
	Q looked away, then back.  "Yes."
	"So you just cut yourself off from me, so that you could watch me."
	"Yes."
	"Because she is such a powerful seductress."
	"...Yes."
	"And you wanted to see how well she'd do?"
	Q stared at him.  "It's not like that."
	"It's not?"
	"No."
	For a long, deadly minute, the Captain of the Enterprise stared up
into the entity's now rather frightened eyes, then, with a slow
deliberation, turned around and braced his hands against the wall,
spreading his legs slightly.
	"Is this all I'm good for, Q?"
	Q gasped, stunned by how much those quiet words hurt him.  This
was worse than hating himself for wanting to test Picard.  This was worse
than fearing he would lose him.  This was worse than anything.
	"Jean-Luc, please.  Don't -- don't do that."
	"Why not?"  He seemed perfectly comfortable addressing the wall. 
"A challenge came up in our relationship, and instead of dealing with it
together, you took your comfortable distance and watched to see how I would
perform.  Well, here I am, ready to perform again.  Why don't you just fuck me?"
	"Oh, no, it wasn't...I didn't..."  Q was holding his stomach now,
his belly so twisted it felt as though someone had struck him there.  He
wanted more than anything to pry Picard off that stupid wall and hold him,
but for the first time since they had come back from those first three
incredible weeks out of their time together, he didn't know that he would
be allowed to touch Jean-Luc anymore.  The pain was pressing up to his
chest now, and he wasn't breathing well.  "That's not what happened."
	"That is exactly what happened."
	"Jean-Luc, *please* turn around."
	The man rested his head against the wall.  "You really did ruin
me, you know.  I thought what we had meant something...extraordinary to
both of us."
	"It does!"
	"I thought it would count for something that we've been the same
person, that we've shared everything we are to each other and more."
	"Stop.  Please.  Don't say anymore."
	"Are you prepared to fuck me now?"
	"Stop it!  Damnit!  I made a mistake!"  Reaching out, shaking with
the risk of it, he grabbed Picard's shoulders and forced him to turn.  Dull
hazel eyes looked into his own, bright with tears that now spilled as he
kept shouting.  "I made a mistake and you're going to have to forgive me!"
	"Am I?"
	"Yes!"  And Q pulled Picard in tight and kissed him, sobbing when
those lips didn't respond.  *Jean-Luc?*  He pressed tighter.
	No voice replied, but the emptiness did not actually push him away.
	*Jean-Luc, it wasn't you I didn't trust.  It was...life.  It was
my life.*  He wrapped his arms around that compact body and pressed closer
still.  *For billions of years I haven't been with you.  Don't I get a
grace period?*
	*You cut me off.  I was alone.*
	Crying harder now at those hurt-filled words, covering both their
faces in his tears, Q reached towards that voice, looking for the
resistance inside his lover to soothe with his remorse.  But instead he
found a simple, straight-forward request, one he almost quailed in front of.
	Then, nauseated at the emptiness of it, Q opened his mind without
reaching for Jean-Luc, holding himself there, naked and spread-eagled. 
Stripped from everything that protected him, without shelter, without skin,
he waited for whatever Picard wanted, shivering with cold and empty of all
but need and fear.
	Gently, a single, warm, inquiring thread entered him, and he had
to use all his will to keep from grasping at it.  His mind craved that
contact more than anything, and he shuddered and would have fallen had not
the man's arms come up to hold him.
	And then his memories were accessed, the past few hours.  His need
for Jean-Luc to resist her.  His need to have his lover be extraordinary
for him and his guilt and self-hatred at that need.
	And then, below all that, almost hidden from Q himself, the belief
that a beautiful woman with sensual empathy would simply be more appealing
to Picard than an omnipotent who had made him jump through hoops.  Picard
could see in detail the unfavorable comparison Q had drawn between his
chosen body and the queen's, his insecure needs and her smug
self-confidence, his power and her skills.
	*Are you insane?* Picard's voice asked with quiet exasperation. 
*If I wanted that, wouldn't I ask you to become it?  If I wanted anything
other than what you give me, is there a chance you'd say no if I asked for it?*
	*No.*  The reply was instinctive.
	*Have I given you any cause to believe that I was dissatisfied
with our relationship?  Could I have done anything more to show that I love
you?*
	*No.*
	*Are you bored with me?  Is this your way of pushing me away?*
	*No!*
	"You're slobbering all over me, Q.*
	*Tell me what to do.  Tell me what I can do.*
	*Well, whip up a tissue and blow your nose.*
	The confusion and then hope Q felt when he realized Picard was
making a joke stabbed into them both with pain.  Q blew his nose and wiped
his eyes and stared with love into the face which now looked like his lover
and not some mask his lover had put on for public scrutiny.
	"You must not do this again," the man ordered.
	"Never."  And then, *Never.*
	"I don't care if the most desirable lifeform in the galaxy throws
herself naked into my lap, you are never to believe I could want her
instead of you.  Understood?"
	There was too much honesty in the moment for dramatic assurances. 
"I will...try, Jean-Luc."
	"That's not good enough!"
	Q was shaking, his forehead pressed now against his lover's
shoulder as he ran through a hundred images of the universe's sweet
delights, a fraction of his lifetime's worth of  tempting spoils.
	*But I don't love any of them, Q.  Is it really so hard for you to
understand?*
	*You don't know...You can't see...*
	*I don't need to know and I don't need to see.*
	Q just stood there, shaking and holding on tight.  Picard let
several moments go by, thinking, trying to understand things from Q's
perspective.
	*It's no good,* he told Q finally.
	Q's whole being went tense.  *What's no good?*
	*You're going to have to be inside me.*
	Q didn't relax.
	*I can't explain things this way, Q.*  Carefully the man
disengaged and turned back to brace his hands against the wall.  *Hurry.*
	Q felt frozen, staring at the man he loved, unable to believe, now
that he knew the depth of his own sin, that he could simply be forgiven
like this.
	And yet, Jean-Luc's mind had never been more open, his need for Q
never more urgent.
	Trembling hands lightly touched Picard's shoulders, and soon Q was
pressed up against him, head bowed over to place the lightest of kisses
along his temple, down the side of his face, around his ear.  The heat
coming through his uniform warmed Q's chilled body, and the demand for Q's
entry burned the cold desolation within.
	Q never actually asked Jean-Luc if he were sure this was what he
wanted, but every touch traced that question on his body.  As gently as he
could, fumbling, he opened Picard's uniform, peeling it away from that skin
that was so warm and real and comforting.  Carefully, he found each place
he knew to bring Picard pleasure, along his shoulders, up and down the back
of his neck, slowly, down his spine, along his sides, feeling him tremble
and listening to his breathing and heartbeat increase their pace.
	Removing more of the thick material, Q knelt to kiss patterns on
Picard's lower back, brushing that light body hair with his lips, basking
in the knowledge of where he was and what he was doing and whom he was
doing it to, and then his kisses went lower as the man hissed slightly and
arched his back.
	*Hurry.  Inside me.  Fuck me.*
	But Q wanted to object that he wasn't ready -- his powerful
erection notwithstanding -- that he wanted to touch Picard like this for
days, little caresses and kisses all over his skin that smelled faintly of
his sweat and arousal.  He felt the most absurd need to light candles and
prepare them both with scented baths.  He wanted to create something
beautiful and offer it as a present.  He longed to destroy something ugly
and lay its head at Jean-Luc's feet.  Just to move into Picard's body while
he was still so...unclean, still stinking of his jealousy and petty
insecurities, would defile the gift under his hands.
	*You don't defile me, Q.*  It was as if Q could *hear* the tears
on Jean-Luc's face in those words.  *You complete me.  You are me.  And I
thought I was you.*
	The inadequacy of those human words, even uttered in his mind,
drove Q up from his knees.  What they needed to say to each other couldn't
be expressed through the boundaries of identity.  Getting rid of his
clothes and lubricating them both with a snap, he pressed against his lover
again, the contact of skin on skin making them both groan as Q's hands
spread Picard open and his throbbing cock pressed urgently inside, filling
him with one thrust of gentle, sustained force.
	Q had meant to rest there, deep inside his Jean-Luc, but his
lover's pleasure at the movement spurred him to keep thrusting, angling for
perfect contact and pressure, gripping his hips tightly and pressing him
back against his chest as he rocked back and forth, coming closer and
closer to that point where their ecstasy would open them to each other
completely.  Closing his eyes, he surrendered himself unconditionally to
that tight heat and powerful response that was his lover.  Remorse and
guilt were battered away by relentless pleasure, filling them both, twining
them together ever closer and closer and closer still.
	And then the boundaries were gone, and they poured into each
other's consciousness with the taste of nectar, drinking greedily even as
they were consumed.
	*I was an idiot,* said Picard/Q, who agreed.
	And they were in the queen's throne room, looking at her while she
looked at them.  Her tendrils of desire reached out and they did not
notice.  She pouted her lips and caressed them with her eyes, and they did
not see or feel it.  Her voice purred promises they did not hear.  
	Picard clenched around the hot strength inside him, then released
to let his lover out again, rocking his own hips to meet Q's driving
rhythm, hands pressing back against the wall of the lift, legs spread wide
with his uniform around his ankles, back arched, groaning now heedless
pleas for more and more.  Again his body reeled with the rediscovery of how
good this felt, how great was the power in his body, how electric was the
charge of his every nerve end.  He simply could not get enough of this.  Q
could not fill him to completion, could not sate the need for him inside. 
Every touch was pure oxygen to a flame that could not burn hot enough to
scald him.
	They noticed that she was beautiful.  How could they not?  Like a
work of fine art, she was presented before them.  Beverly had said
something to them about her desires, but such things were of no
consequence.  They laughed with private smugness, watching another pallid
tendril snake out:  a phaser shot into the sun.
	Q's hands dug into those narrow hips, angling the arch down just a
bit more.  The solid impact of that body against him was heaven, every
sensation continuing to pound him away from the last of his grief.  And yet
he was crying again, hic-coughing huge broken lungfulls of air with his
eyes shut tight and his muscles straining to give Picard all he had.  His
testicles were drawn in close.  It was getting harder and harder not to
come.  His lover's cries, his smell, the indescribable feel of him all
around and against his body and within his mind assaulted him with bliss. 
He stood unworthy as this blessed rain washed him, renewed him, took the
eons of his past and made them merely a path to this point, this contact,
this existence which was only in and with his wonderful Jean-Luc, the lover
who did, indeed, make him complete.
	Oh!  They fought not to laugh at  Troi and Riker as the tendril
broke and splashed the energy all about.  What was wrong with those two,
anyway?  And poor Beverly and Data!  The queen was actually batting her
eyes a bit now.  They watched from the corner exhaulting in the delight
that her desire was so futile.  Poor queen!  
	Employing the force of his whole body, Picard shot all over the
lift wall with a howl, setting off the entity inside him who now filled him
with hot cum as Q continued to thrust, again and again, shouting his love,
until he was spent of both his seed and his last endearment.
	Picard/Q continued to scream in ecstasy without sound, empowering
themselves to go farther, to feel more, even as the bodies they were now
only dimly aware of collapsed to the floor.
	*I am you, my love.*

END OF PART TWO

"O what a piece of work is man." -- Hamlet

From varoneeka@aol.com Sun Sep 14 08:49:44 1997
Path: Supernews69!Supernews60!supernews.com!cpk-news-feed3.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: On Her Majesty's Secret Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 3/4
Date: 14 Sep 1997 15:49:44 GMT
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Xref: Supernews69 alt.fan.q:6566

This is an NC-17 P/Q story, sixth (Good Lord) in a series:  "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," and
"Q-raker," all of which are archived (or are soon to be archived) at The
Star Trek Slash Archive.  You can also ask me for the earlier stories if
you like.  This story is decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely
stories, no question).  No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men
(kinda) or lots of love-talk should read any further.

Feedback is greatly appreciated -- please please please!! -- at
Varoneeka@aol.com

Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys.  I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!

*On Her Majesty's Secret Q*

	Snug in bed, his arms curled around the warm body pressed against
his side, the Captain of the Enterprise forced himself to answer Riker's voice.
	"Picard here."
	"Captain, we've received a priority one call from Starfleet Command."
	"Transfer it down here, Commander."
	Getting out of bed was something more than an effort, and those
dark eyes which followed him were threatening to take his attention from
even the simplest task at hand.
	Grabbing his robe, he covered himself before sitting at his desk
and turning on the monitor.
	"I trust you have some sort of explanation for this, Picard?"
	"Admiral Chek."  He looked with respect and confusion at the face
on his screen.  "Explanation for what?"
	"Explanation for why the Alstriad government has announced that
the Federation has forfeited its rights to negotiate over trading
agreements regarding the sklothym ore?"
	"Admiral, I assure you, this is the first time I or my staff have
heard of this.  Let me get to the bottom of this.  I'm sure any
misunderstandings can be cleared up promptly."
	"I'll be counting on that, Picard.  Chek out."
	Jean-Luc's eyes went to the concerned figure on his bed, then he
shook himself and stood up, striding to pick up the uniform he had flung to
the floor.
	"This involves me, you know," Q said softly.
	Picard looked up from fastening his pants.  "I know, love."
	"So if I just found out for you what's wrong..."
	"That's a line I don't want to cross, Q, and certainly not for
something as unimportant as the ruler of Alstriad."  He began to put his
tank top over his head.
	"Wait," Q said.
	Picard stood there, arms wrapped around his shirt, one eyebrow raised.
	Slowly, smiling faintly, Q leaned forward on the bed, looked into
Picard's eyes, and then gently kissed his right nipple, then lapped it
once, then again with just the tip of his tongue before placing a final,
breath-soft kiss on the hard nub.  Then Q leaned back to kneel on the bed,
staring at him.
	"You're so beautiful."
	Picard took a deep, unsteady breath, struggled into the shirt,
then grabbed Q's neck and drew him in for a long, deep kiss they both broke
with overt reluctance.  Then the captain turned to finish dressing and
walked out.
	His officers were all completely in the dark, and had nothing but
guesses to offer in conference.
	The rest of the day was spent getting the queen's advisors to
agree to another meeting with the monarch and going over every part of the
negotiations so far.  But there was absolutely nothing anyone could find
that should have displeased the Alstriad monarch in the slightest.
	Except, of course, for the one thing Picard most didn't want to
talk about.
	Finally, a brief meeting with the queen having been established
for that evening, Picard called another conference.
	"I'm sure you have all realized," Picard began, hiding his
discomfort from everyone but Troi, "that I have asked Q not to interfere in
ship's business, but this mission, in fact, may have been compromised by
his presence."
	Picard was privately gratified when everyone looked surprised.
	"Moreover, I find it pointless, considering his unwilling
involvement, not to make use of the information I have learned from him. 
It would seem that the Alstriad monarch is an active and powerful empath,
able both to sense other's emotions and project emotions unto others, and
to screen her powers from others."  He made eye contact with Troi to
establish that she was in no way responsible for not knowing this.
	"In addition, it would seem that she expends her considerable
mental abilities on...ensnaring others for pleasure.  It would also seem
that I have been the target of such a snare.  Her...failure may have been
perceived as an insult."
	When the officers who had been with him in the throne room got
over their own discomfort, there was a palpable concentration on finding a
solution, and on phrasing it delicately.
	"Do you think she may simply be looking for an apology, Captain?"
Troi asked.
	"I have no idea what she is looking for at this point, and,
indeed, her personal interactions with me may have nothing to with it.  But
I did want you to be informed."
	"I wonder," Crusher said, "what you were saying earlier, Jean-Luc,
about her needing to show how much her people are enjoying their wealth. 
Perhaps she may simply be enjoying her power to say no to us:  snubbing the
Federation to show that she can."
	"Well, having us come back pleading for a furtherance of the
negotiations should be pleasant for her as well," Picard noted with joyless
determination.  "In the meantime, from her actions we know that she has no
compunctions against being less than open with us.  We should be on the
lookout for any manner of hidden agenda."
	"Have you informed Starfleet Command of her deception, Captain?"
Data asked.
	"It's hardly a part of Starfleet policy that every race report
their mental and physical abilities to us.  If I find evidence of deception
in the actual negotiations, Starfleet Command will be informed
immediately."  Picard was aware he'd said that a little curtly, but this
conversation was giving him a headache.
	"Sir," Riker said. "Is there any chance Q may...interfere more
directly in the negotiations?"
	Picard had no idea, as a soft puff of his lover's laughter wafted
through his mind and alleviated his headache, that a deeply contented,
almost smug expression crossed his face.  "No.  I don't think so, Number One."
	Riker nodded, his expression as blank as the rest of the staff's.  
	"Sir," Troi said carefully.  "I wonder if you may have considered
that you're allowing a different sort of interference."
	"Counselor?"
	"In this instance, Q has not involved himself in ship's business,
but been involved by the actions of the Alstriad monarch.  If your spouse
were simply a mortal living on this ship, do you think you would be so
thoroughly committed to refraining from allowing him to help?"
	"I'm not sure I understand how Q could help us in this matter,
apart from the sort of help none of us wishes to encourage."
	"Nor do I, sir, at this point.  But I think you may want to
consider that there may be a need for his involvement before this is over."
	"Noted."  Picard placed her suggestion in his "Bad Ideas" file and
called the meeting over.  After another half-hour on the bridge, he called
his away team together once more and transported down to the planet, now
fully aware that Q had settled himself into a corner of the throne room to
watch the proceedings with a bowl of popcorn in his lap.  Picard tried to
tell him that he did not appreciate the levity, but Q responded smugly that
he did and munched a handful of kernels with gusto.
	The queen knew that they knew about her now.  Their guarded
expressions would have given them away even without the control she felt in
their minds.
	And the one she wanted, his control was greater than the others,
by far, and yet not enough to keep from her a deepening of his contentment.
 Love and the aftermaths of bliss seeped from him like blood from a freshly
drawn heart.  Never in her life had she been presented with such a delicacy.
	*Keep drooling, bitch,* Q thought with satisfaction, even though
it drew a mental frown from Picard.
	The comment had another unexpected result.
	"Is your lover nearby, Picard?" the queen asked sharply.
	The captain felt his officers stiffen in protest on his behalf,
and made a mental note to thank them for it later.  He never remembered
that sort of thing...or, more to the point, he was so uncomfortable with
that sort of thing he always conveniently forgot until after the moment had
passed.  Well, this time he would make a point of it.
	"Yes," he answered the monarch.
	"I would like to speak with her."
	Picard kept the smile off his face.  "The business we are
conducting together is on behalf of the Federation.  My spouse is not a
member of the Federation, and has no part in our discussions."
	"She does if I say she does!"
	Q's smugness was filling him now, and he struggled to keep it off
his face, mentally hissing at the entity munching popcorn in the corner.
	"One aspect of Federation policy which makes me proud to serve
under it is the understanding that professional demands may not be required
to take precedence over private ones.  We are all officers who have sworn
to lay down our lives in the line of duty, but the concerns of our family
are not a part of that sworn sacrifice.  My spouse does not choose to be a
part of this, nor do I wish it."
	The queen was angry, and getting angrier at every cultured word. 
"What I wish is of supreme importance here, Picard, if you wish any rights
to the ore, if you wish the Federation to be able to continue negotiations
for your trade route, if you want anything but animosity between my people
and yours for eternity!"
	And even as Picard opened his mouth to explain that her threats
were counterproductive to her people's welfare, he felt that special shift
and looked around in surprise.  Everyone was frozen into place, a slight
red-blue tinge to their outlines.  He could feel the stillness in the air
itself.
	Q came from the corner, no popcorn, a deadly serious expression on
his face.
	"Jean-Luc, it might be time for a change in tactics."
	"Q, I assure you there's no need --"
	"Perhaps not for you, my love, but there is one for me."  Lightly,
Q dropped onto the pillow beside him, leaning forward for a light kiss and
then settling back with a sigh.  "Listen to your little counselor girl.  If
I were just your mortal partner would you be insisting that I stay out of it?"
	"I should think so."
	Q sighed.  "She just wants to meet me at this point, Johnny.  It's
more curiosity and wounded pride than anything else.  I don't mind.  Or at
least, I only mind enough that it seems like a present I can give you.  You
don't let me give you enough, you know."
	Picard smiled faintly and looked at him with eyes that threatened
to melt the entity into the cushions.  "You give me everything, my love."
	Q stared at him, and suddenly Picard's right nipple began to
tingle.  He knew it wasn't something Q was doing with his powers.  It was
simply the unsatisfied need he felt whenever Q looked at him like that, and
the memory of their last time together giving the need form.
	"How is it," Jean-Luc asked quietly, "that I ever do anything but
make love to you?"
	Q swallowed thickly.  "As I wonder the same thing almost
constantly myself, my beloved, I can't answer that."  Q's eyes darted
around.  "I could take us out of here and we could fuck for a week."
	A slow, intensely pleasured smile stretched itself along Picard's
lips.  "I want nothing more now than to be in our room."  He didn't have to
say which room.  "But I want to take care of this first.  I want to make
love with you without this...sovereign distracting either of us."
	"And afterwards?"
	Picard considered things.  "Two weeks," he said finally.  "Let's
fuck each other for two weeks."
	Q's dark eyes, now almost black, closed as he leaned forward for
another long, sweet, deep, perfect kiss.  Then he sat back with a
determined grin.  "So, you'll let me come here and help you deal with the
barracuda?"
	Picard chuckled ruefully.  "She really is quite the outdated
stereotype.  I'm disappointed in the universe for creating her."
	Q shrugged, drunk with happiness.  "I'm sure the universe is doing
its best."  He put up his hand suddenly, an obvious sign of a pledge.  "I
will limit myself only to human abilities...except for resisting her
empathy, of course.  You wouldn't care for it, I hope, if she decided to
seduce *me?*"
	For an answer, and because he suddenly felt a wave of possessive
rage, Picard grabbed Q and kissed him roughly, not stopping until they were
both breathless.  "I don't care if she throws herself naked into your lap,"
he growled.  "You're not to notice her."
	"Notice who?"
	Picard nodded, and Q disappeared.  A few minutes went by while he
got himself under control, then he nodded again and time recommenced.
	The queen felt the instant shift in his emotions and glared at
him, but he was already saying smoothly, "If my spouse's appearance here is
of such importance to you, I will certainly contact my ship."
	The away team all kept from blinking or looking at each other. 
Riker became aware that this next part of this was going to be hard on him.
	He tried, and for the most part was successful, not to think about
his captain's involvement with the being who had once made him look like a
jackass.  He tried not to imagine Picard and Q together, doing anything,
but especially doing anything romantic.
	Sometimes, on the bridge on beta or gamma shift, when he knew
Picard and Q were doubtlessly together in the captain's quarters, he
wondered what it meant about the universe that the man he respected more
than anything was...consorting with an almost omnipotent entity they had
all once heartily despised.
	Riker was aware that Q had done quite a bit to help Picard, and
humanity.  He knew that Q's granting him the power of Q had been an
important part of his own evolution.
	There, that was the place that really hurt.  Riker owed Q.  Having
had those few days of omnipotence had taught him so much about himself, so
much he might not have learned.  He'd been a jackass, but he'd also learned
*not* to be a jackass.  Would he have been able to realize how happy he was
on the Enterprise if he'd never been a god, never known about the emptiness
of pure power?  He considered it his greatest personal triumph that he'd
known happiness when he finally found it and not let himself be promoted
away.  He knew he could live the rest of his life like this...though
eventually he did want to be captain of the Enterprise, somehow he *didn't*
want Picard *not* to be captain...and he owed all that in some part to Q.
	But he didn't want to like it.  Didn't want to like him.  He had
been trying, though, for Picard's sake, to hate him less.
	It was amazing, really, what Riker knew he'd do for Picard.  He
knew it was hero-worship and he didn't care.  Sometimes, certain people
were just worth it.  If Picard said, "Take this phaser and shoot yourself
in the head," he'd probably do it.  But then, that had been true for years
now, and he had gotten somewhat used to it.  But the knowledge that Picard
had someone in his life who was so important and yet so...disturbing, so
potentially loathsome...No.  Riker shook his head imperceptibly at his own
thoughts.  Q wasn't loathsome, but he didn't deserve the captain's love.
	There, that was the real issue.  Picard should have gotten a
goddess, not a fallen, prankster, occasional asshole of a demi-god.  
	And now Picard was actually going to bring Q here?  It was a
horrible mistake.  He was certain of it.
	But the queen had agreed with a nod of her head, and Picard's hand
had gone to his combadge.
	"Picard to Q."
	"Q here, Captain."
	The officers all kept from reacting to the sound of the entity's
voice over the communication system.
	"I wonder if you could join us down here.  Her Majesty would like
to speak to you."
	"On my way.  Q out."
	The queen stared at Picard.  So his "spouse" was a man, was he? 
Did Picard believe that somehow made him immune?  She'd had more than one
supposedly homosexual man begging for her touch.
	And yet, Picard did seem immune.  Even now she was sending out
tendrils, keeping them carefully from the others this time, focusing them
on this powerful man...and he seemed not to notice at all.  Indignation and
concern boiled in her belly.
	And then a tall, dark-haired man transported into the throne room
and nodded at her respectfully, his manners as impeccable as the captain's.
	He was handsome, in a strangely sensual sort of way.  He was not
in uniform, but his black pants, boots, and black-red shirt somehow
suggested the captain's own attire without aping it.  She sensed power in
this man, and his connection to Picard.  Their love was a white tangle of
threads across the room, a constantly expressed need of light and warmth
she wanted directed her way.
	"So," she drawled, "you are Captain Picard's...partner?"
	"Yes," Q said, smiling in a reserved but friendly fashion.  At her
nod, he walked over to the pillows and set himself down next to Picard, who
smiled at him faintly.  She noticed that the captain's lackeys were all
watching this intently.  Evidently they did not get to see much of the
happy couple in action.  Idly, she opened herself to their surprised
pleasure.  It was better than nothing, and nothing was all she was getting
from the two she wanted.
	"Do you find it difficult to be the husband of a starship
captain?" she asked, probing for an opening.
	"I'm not thrilled when his duties keep us apart," Q answered
quietly, surprised to find he was enjoying himself.  "But I could never
begrudge anything that brings him pleasure."
	"He enjoys his job more than you, then?"
	Q smiled.  This wasn't hard at all, though it would be easier
without the little trained minions there with their ears perked up.  "It's
not a question of enjoyment, but identity.  I'm sure you've realized he is
a man who's made his job a part of himself.  I would never want him to be
less than he is."
	Picard rode a wave of pleasure in those simple words.  It occurred
to him that he and Q had never had any sort of formal ceremony.  This whole
thing was beginning to feel like an impromptu wedding.  All those he would
like to have on hand were there, and he was certainly glad of the omission
of Worf.  The Klingon would be waiting for the "If anyone knows now why
these two should not be wed" part before charging at Q with a bat'leth.
	"But aren't you a part of him as well?"  The queen's insinuating
voice had nothing on Q's when he was in the mood, but it was still pretty
good.  "It must be hard when you realize he's operating in a space where
you can't be."
	"Our time apart defines us," Q replied easily.  The Continuum's
questioning in the early part of his relationship with Picard had already
let him make up his mind about such issues, and he found the old answers
readily coming to his lips.  "We have to be ourselves if we are to be
anything to each other.  And our outside interests enrich what we have
together."
	"But his profession is dangerous," she murmured, managing to sound
quite sympathetic.  "It must pain you to know that he would...'lay down his
life in the line of duty.'  You may suddenly be left all alone."
	"Your pardon, Highness, but my beliefs regarding death are not in
alignment with your own.  Jean-Luc and I will never part."
	Picard kept himself from reacting to that one, but no one else did.  
	Reacting visibly, anyway.  The mental reaction was rather pronounced.
	*When this is over, Q, I'm going to make you come so hard you
won't know what your 'identity' is for a month.*
	"Such belief is commendable," the queen sneered, "but must be
little consolation in the face of true danger."
	*Are you going to take me from the back or the front?*
	"Your pardon, Highness, but I find it great consolation indeed."
	*The front, with your legs around me and you screaming for more
and me so deep inside you I'll wonder if I'll ever leave you again.*
	"You must think very highly of your love indeed."  The queen was
showing her anger clearly now.
	*When I come with you inside me, Jean-Luc, I'll splash all over
you again, and then I'll lick it off, every drop, until you're hard, and
then I'll turn you over and fuck you until you start screaming in Klingon
again.*
	*I only did that because you asked me too!*
	"The object of my affections propels me to hubris," Q told the
queen with a smile.
	She stood, nostrils flaring and eyes alight.  "I commend you,
Picard, on your...fine spouse.  But perhaps he does not speak for you?"
	"Considering how completely he holds my soul in his keeping,"
Picard said quietly, "I am delighted to know that he speaks for me whenever
he chooses."
	*Oh!  You are going to get it, Jean-Luc!  Every turbo-lift on the
ship will need a cleaning when we're done!*
	"Well!"  The queen tossed her dark hair.  "Such a declaration
demands a celebration."  She clapped her hands together and a dozen
servants appeared.  "Wine!" she shouted at them.  "Food, music!  Inform the
others, We're having a celebration to mark the Federation's success in
closing its negotiations with Us."  She turned her head and set her eyes
upon the man she still intended to have, along with his eloquent lover. 
"Congratulations, Captain.  The sklothym ore is yours, at the price you
named."  She smiled a lioness' smile.  "You and your husband will stay to
celebrate, won't you?"
	"Of course."
	In very short order the wall between the throne room and a large
reception hall was dismantled, an orchestra with a surprisingly Terran feel
to it was playing.  Picard and Q were continuing to send each other
promises and images of lovemaking, though no one could actually speak
during the few moments of intense noise and movement as the hall crowded
with Her Majesty's subjects and all manner of food and drink and
entertainments was offered.
	Finally, Picard managed to get with his people in a corner, Q
quietly standing at his side.
	"Was she sincere about the ore, Counselor?"
	"Completely, sir.  But," the empath's dark eyes revealed concern
as they went between Picard and Q, "she's not done with either of you."
	"The evening promises to entertain!" Q announced, making Picard
half-bury a smile the others could plainly see.
	"Thank you for the warning, Counselor," Picard said, again with no
idea of the smug tone in his voice.  "In the meantime, I suggest that we
try to enjoy the party...and keep an eye out for whatever surprises she may
have in store."
	Everyone nodded, and they split into groups:  Troi and Riker, Data
and LaForge.  Crusher stayed behind a moment, looking at Q with a
surprisingly impish smile.
	"That was quite a speech, Q.  Perhaps you'd like to be in one of
my plays sometime?  I see you playing the lead in...*The Taming of the Shrew?*"
	"You watch it, Bev."  Q's tone was sheer indulgence.  It would
take a lot more than a smart-mouthed doctor to ruin his mood.  "Jean-Luc
would look horrible in a dress."
	"Fortunately," Picard murmured, "I won't be the one wearing it."
	Q just laughed.

END OF PART THREE

"O what a piece of work is man." -- Hamlet

From varoneeka@aol.com Sun Sep 14 08:51:44 1997
Path: Supernews69!Supernews60!supernews.com!vncnews!newsfeed2.vnc.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: On Her Majesty's Secret Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 4/4
Date: 14 Sep 1997 15:51:44 GMT
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Xref: Supernews69 alt.fan.q:6567

This is an NC-17 P/Q story, sixth (Good Lord) in a series:  "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," and
"Q-raker," all of which are archived (or are soon to be archived) at The
Star Trek Slash Archive.  You can also ask me for the earlier stories if
you like.  This story is decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely
stories, no question).  No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men
(kinda) or lots of love-talk should read any further.

Feedback is greatly appreciated -- please please please!! -- at
Varoneeka@aol.com

Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys.  I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!

*On Her Majesty's Secret Q*

	The party continued for some time.  Picard was introduced to a
dizzying array of VIPs and their aides and their aides.  Q entertained
himself much as he had at the Enterprise's reception some weeks ago,
sending images to Picard and trying not to ogle his lover too overtly.  He
made little contact with the Enterprise command staff, though Riker sent
him an odd look. Primarily he tried to enjoy simply watching Picard do his
job, imagining him naked and wondering if there might be any new erogenous
zones for him to explore.  One of the nicest things about humans was the
way they went through a completely new set of skin periodically, shifting
their hot spots a bit and adding new ones all the time.
	Perhaps that area near his right elbow was sensitive enough now
for some sincere attention.	
	"Are you enjoying my little party, Q?" a sultry voice asked from
behind him.
	*Oh, lady.  Are *you* out of your league.*  He turned to face the
queen.
	She'd changed her clothes from the royal robes of her throne room
to something even more revealing.  The colors went together almost
perfectly, but not quite.  A bit less purple would have helped.
	"Lovely," he replied in a tone that said the opposite.
	She smiled deeply and reached out a hand holding a drink.  Q could
easily see the drug in it.
	"Thank you," he said with a smile, taking it and draining it in
several large swallows.  If he had been what he appeared it would have made
him randy as hell and none too particular.  Fortunately, he wasn't what he
appeared, and he was already randy, just not for her.
	He smiled at her smugly, and watched the delectation of her eyes. 
Oh dear.  The queen was in for quite a disappointment.
	Several minutes passed while she talked with her advisors about
the Federation's contract, then she turned back to him with arch brows.  He
smiled serenely.  She frowned.
	*What's going on, Q?*
	*Bitch here drugged me.*
	*She did?*
	*Jean-Luc!  You're jealous!*
	*What kind of drug?*
	*Aphrodisiac.  Should we get Bev to pump my stomach?*
	"Captain Picard?" the queen had turned suddenly and was addressing him.
	"Your Highness?"
	"If you and your husband would come with me, I have something to
show you both."
	"Certainly.  May I ask what it is?"
	She nodded her head, and the advisors around her began to
dissipate.  "We call it the He-hedrl.  To be invited to view it is
considered an honor."
	Picard knew that Q was laughing at something hysterically, but not
at what, and so the captain simply nodded.
	The queen led them away from the party with gliding steps, down a
long corridor, through a darkened room, and then down another, somehow
unused section of corridor, where candles burned and incense began to seep
into the air.
	Picard had a half-second's intuition what was behind the door
right as the nearly invisible footmen threw it open and the queen trailed
inside with them in tow.
	Naked men, everywhere.   Beautiful boys and muscle-bound men,
blonde gods and dark hustlers, choir boys and thugs, intellectuals and
laborers, pampered bodies and callused hides, all stretched out along the
pillows, pleasuring each other and being pleasured.
	And it was as if Picard could see the energy flowing into the
Queen of Alstriad.  For the first time he understood her lust, a sort of
feeding upon the pleasure of others which enhanced rather than detracted
from the source.  The eroticism of the room was at a fever-pitch when they
entered, but it tripled as she stood there, surveying her subjects.
	And the captain realized that this was her primary function as
queen, in whatever capacity:  to enhance her people's enjoyment of their
wealth and prosperity by enhancing their pleasure.  Right this moment it
was direct and sexual, but in her whole lifestyle she acted as conduit for
their luxury, a blessing upon their Epicurean lives, a catalyst to their
desires and their wishes fulfilled.  She took, but she returned.  She
drank, and yet was herself the fountain.
	But what she wanted from them was out of the question.
	"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but this," he waved vaguely, "is
not a part of my relationship with Q."
	"And is it too weak to withstand such pleasure?" she taunted.
	"Just because I can strike a jewel with my fist without injuring
the jewel is no reason to strike it."
	"I have private rooms for you," she said, and there was a hostess
quality to her voice Picard almost laughed at.  
	"No, thank you."
	"But I can help you.  You and your husband can experience new
bliss beyond anything you have known."
	Picard once again didn't realize how smug was his expression. 
"Thank you, but we really are not requiring of your services."
	In answer, the queen swooped in on him suddenly, and though Q
could have stopped her, he didn't.  She melted into Picard with all her
strength and all her powers and applied to him the height of her skills. 
She twined her arms around him, seeking out pressure points, twisting his
lips between her own, and wrapped tendril after tentacle of pure desire and
excitement around him as Q watched, smiling slightly to himself.
	When she broke the kiss, she stared into those clear hazel eyes a
long moment before moving away.
	"What are you?" she asked in a low, desperate voice.  "Who are you?"
	"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise."
	She stared at him, and it was as if he could feel her defeat.  It
gave him no pleasure.  This was what she did, and, in her own eyes, it was
what she was.
	*Jean-Luc, I don't understand...*  Along with Q's confused
half-question Picard saw in his mind Q's knowledge of her her bitter defeat
and his lack of triumph at her defeat.  It came from hopeless pride on both
their parts, he knew.  How could they blame her for desiring what they had?
 How could they want her to suffer when their union was all the better now
for having known her?  Picard sensed from his lover every part of Q's dimay
that he no longer wanted to torment her, to punish her for coveting what he
had, and loved Q all the more for it once again.
	And together they thought something that would have astounded them
only an hour ago.  
	Picard reached out and Q came to him eagerly, part of him
completely uncaring why he was able to kiss Jean-Luc, or where, or in front
of whom.  The sexuality of the room meant nothing to him.  He'd seen so
much more, known such perversity and sensuality in his life.
	And it was all nothing.  
	*This,* he thought as he and Picard drew each other close, *this
is all that counts.*  And he kissed the lips of his beloved and felt how
greatly he was loved, and nothing existed anymore but that sensation he
drowned in so eagerly, giving all that he was into the moment, pouring
himself unreservedly into the possession of the one who owned him, who
sustained him, who was all that he was and took and gave and was what he
wanted everything he had to be...
	And when they broke the kiss, Picard and Q realized that the room
had become deathly quiet.  
	Looking around, they saw not only the Queen of Alstriad gaping at
them, but also the amazed expression of every last man in the room, some of
them frozen in the most intimate of positions.
	"I think, if you agree, that it is time for us to leave," Picard
said, tugging his uniform in place as he turned to the monarch.  "I am
pleased, deeply pleased, that our negotiations have come to this mutually
beneficial end, and I look forward to the continuance of our friendship
throughout the Federation and Alstriad negotiations that are to come."
	*Oh, puh-lease, Jean-Luc.*
	The Alstriad monarch nodded vaguely.  "I look forward to our
future together as well."
	And then Picard was informing his people over the comm that they
could leave when they felt like it, and then contacting the Enterprise for
two to beam up.  With a nod on both sides, the queen watched as Picard and
Q gently disappeared from her sight.

	The materialization seemed to complete itself, though Picard knew
it would be at least two weeks, relatively speaking, before it actually
managed to do so.  
	There was the large white bed, the gently billowing white
curtains, the warm sunlight, the white walls and the soft white carpet.
	He was instantly hard, and naked, the imprint of Q's kiss on his
lips suddenly urgent in its tease.  He wanted more, now.  He wanted...he
needed...
	And Q grabbed his hand and hauled him the few steps to the bed
before throwing himself across it, ending up on knees and elbows as Picard
felt warm lubricant around his erection.
	And it seemed as though he began the final step to the bed with
his right foot and ended up inside Q with his left.
	"Ohhhhhh," he breathed with the perfection of it.  He needed this
so much.  Had Q realized he was about to explode?  Each of those nameless
lovers in that rather unsavory brothel had simply suggested what he and Q
could do when they were alone.  Each moan and cry had been a pale but
teasing suggestion of the bliss he could know.
	And now he was inside that warmth and strength and boundless,
infinite, complete and total love that was his lover's body.  Q embraced
him with tight muscles and a tangible groan of pleasure and, simply,
*himself.*  He could sense Q all around him, welcoming him in.  He knew,
suddenly, how much Q had enjoyed watching him kiss the Alstriad monarch
without arousal, and a wry thought twined around that knowledge.
	*You had yourself a good time, my love?*  Picard reared back and
thrust as hard as he could.
	"Yes!"  A jumble of sensations rather than words replied in
Picard's mind.
	And then there was no stopping.  Deeper and deeper as Q spread his
knees and arched his back and rocked against each straining impact.  He was
groaning constantly, filled with heat and shaking with the energy of both
wanting and receiving, of pouring out and being filled, and of the simple
tactile fucking sensation of it all.  
	"Yes!" Q screamed as Picard's hand found him, held him as he came,
the warm semen filling that grasp and spilling out onto the bed even as the
man came inside him, filling his body deeply, tangible sensation of love
and tenderness that made his orgasm double and triple as his body shook
through the shocks and aftershocks.
	Eventually, they were sprawled together, gasping.  Time passed,
and Q cleaned them off, and Picard moved up so they were in each other's arms.
	"I don't have anything in my life anymore that isn't somehow
connected to loving you," the rich voice said, and Q closed his eyes.  He
was going to enjoy this.
	"My command makes me feel worthy of you.  My friendships seem to
balance me for you.  Missions have now become an excuse to show you off
while I explore what you mean to me.  I could feel it tonight, Riker
wondering if he'd misjudged you, and I never liked him better, never felt
more proud of him.
	"And I want to be worried.  I want to reject it and return to
myself.  But *myself* has become incomplete without you.  The more I become
your lover the more I become truly Jean-Luc Picard.  I can no more fear
what you mean to me than I can fear my reflection in the mirror. 
	"And I don't want to fear it.  As much as it is, as great as it
has become, I want more.  I can't get enough of you, and I can't get enough
of what you mean to me.  You have taken me far beyond something I can
control, but, somehow, I don't have to control it.  I don't even want to. 
And I should."
	Picard was quiet a time, and merely to prod him, Q asked, "Why?"
	The man shrugged, him arms still locked around his lover. 
"Because it's my job.  Because I'm responsible for my crew and I have
always commanded by controlling everything I could, especially myself.
	"And now I have something I can't control, but instead of
distrusting it, I find I trust it more than myself.  It's a sort of belief,
I suppose.  I believe in what we mean to each other.  I knew, although I
had no reason to know, that this business with the queen would sort itself
out, that it would work, not because of your powers, but because of what we
are to each other.  Our love..."  Picard paused a moment, even in this
place, in bed with Q, he felt the melodrama of his words and wanted to
resist.  "Our love, I knew, would make things work out."  
	He could feel the gathering in Q, the conflation of emotion that
made him smile in anticipation of being touched and brought to pleasure.  
	But Q merely pressed a bit more tightly against him and murmured
that he should sleep.
	Puzzled, but content, the captain closed his eyes, only catching
the thought as he dropped off, faintly, *You're going to need your rest,
beloved.*

	The man awoke to the faint smell of roses and soap.
	The first thing he saw was Q's face, his head resting on a fist,
his body stretched out alongside him and propped on an elbow.
	"Morning, darling."
	"Good morning, Q."
	His lover brought a croissant to Picard's lips and, smiling
indulgently, he took a bite, unable to keep his pleased expression from
lighting his eyes like a child's.  A slight taste of almonds stayed with
him as he sipped the hot coffee Q served up next.
	When he was done, Picard watched, his breathing getting a little
shallow, as Q bent forward and slowly licked each crumb from his chest.  He
was suddenly, achingly aware of his naked body and the one sharing this
soft white bed.  He wanted the warm tongue and skilled lips which moved
across his body to move to other parts of him, and he was increasingly
aware of the erection he'd had since the second sip of coffee.
	But Q moved away from him, pulling him gently into a sitting
position, and up to his feet beside the bed.
	One wall of the room was gone, turned into an arched passageway to
a large, white-tiled bathing chamber with a sunken, filled, steaming tub
and lit with a hundred candles.  Just looking at the dancing light against
all that water made his erection throb.
	"Q..." he began.
	"Shhh," his lover said tenderly.  "Indulge me."
	Sighing, feeling silly but not really wanting to protest, Picard
let Q lead him to what felt more and more like a shrine.  Standing at the
edge of the sunken tub, Jean-Luc watched Q take up the soft sponge and dip
it into the rose-scented water before gently washing his face, then moving
behind him to wash his shoulders, then his back and buttocks.  More dips
with the sponge, then his chest and arms and stomach.  Then as Q knelt he
got more warm water and Picard's legs were laved completely, then the tops
of his feet, then, carefully indeed, Q helped him balance on each foot as
his soles were tended to.
	"That tickles," Picard said dreamily, unable to withstand this new
act of adoration.  He was painfully hard now, but prepared for quite a bit
more attention before Q took care of *that* part of his body.
	But Q dipped the sponge once more before cleaning the flushed,
erect penis with small, gentle movements that left Picard moaning.  His
testicles were cleaned, then the perineum as he spread his legs, then along
his cleft.
	And then he stood there, skin tingling from the evaporating water
in the candle-warm air.
	And then Q was in front of him, smiling, eyes bright with the
flickering light, and he knelt again to kiss the weeping tip of his lover's
cock.  Picard tried not to thrust into that sensation, but he was so
relaxed, so far from his careful control.  Q licked him now from tip to
base, nuzzling him, gently taking hold of his hips and licking the top of
his thighs before moving again to the tip and encircling him.  As Picard
groaned loudly, Q took him in all the way, skillful pressure and warmth all
along that part of him that couldn't get enough pressure and warmth.  Q's
ministrations were tender and gentle and yet forceful and tight.  
	There was no teasing, no drawing out of pleasure, and far sooner
than he'd meant to, Picard was coming into Q's mouth, feeling him swallow,
held up only by the steady hands at his hips.
	"My love," he murmured when he had steadied, reaching for the
entity keeling before him.
	But Q intercepted his hands and used them to lead Picard down into
the hot water of the bath.  Picard relaxed into the heat, all urgency gone
with having come, as Q scrubbed himself roughly, thoroughly.  Picard had
thought he might do that for Q, but he was relaxed beyond the ability to
offer himself to so much movement, and Q once again seemed to have a
definite agenda in mind.
	Then Q looked at him, smiling faintly, and slowed his movements. 
Taking the large soft sponge in his right hand, he lowered it into the
water, gripped it tightly and released, then raised it to his chest to let
the hot, scented water trickle down his body.
	Picard felt his erection return.
	The living light of the candles caught in a thousand tiny prisms
all along the glowing, smooth skin of his lover, the muscles underneath
moving fluidly as he dipped and raised the sponge again.
	"Q..."
	The entity smiled more deeply, meeting his eyes, before sinking
his whole long body down under the water.  Anticipation sang along Picard's
nerves, and a hand clasped his right foot before Q's lips pressed a soft
kiss onto the top of it.  In his hyper-relaxed and yet aroused state,
Picard felt the kiss through his whole body, and then felt the next one, on
his ankle, and then on his calf (a tongue licked him as well), and then up
his leg.
	He was groaning now and hoping rather fiercely for more attentions
to his cock, but Q's gentle hands turned him around and pushed him up a bit
so that he was leaning over the top of tub's soft side.  Picard didn't even
think of resisting.  Q could tie his legs in a bow and he'd offer to place
his finger on the knot.
	And now Q was kissing along the backs of his thighs, moving up to
his buttocks, and Picard was suddenly certain of what he was going to get
next and grew urgently hard at the thought.  He loved this, and yet he
could never bring himself to ask for it.  Spreading his legs and arching
his back, he sent Q the bulk of his feelings and felt awash with love and
gratitude.
	Q responded only by kissing his opening and then forcefully
probing with his tongue.
	"Ahhhh!" Picard shouted into the candle-lit space, the sound
echoing and amplifying and urging him on.  "I love you!  Oh, God!"  Fingers
trailed along his erection.  "Yes!  No!  Q!"
	And he came, forcefully, again much sooner than he'd wanted to but
unable to deny it.  Gasping, half in and half out of the tub, his hips in
Q's firm grasp, he came back to himself.
	And Q's tongue was still inside him.
	"Ohhhhh," he was getting aroused again, even while his heart was
trying to slow down from last time, even while he was trying to catch his
breath.  The room was actually going dark as he threatened to pass out from it.
	But he rallied, pushing himself into the next round because he
wanted it greedily.  Why should he deny himself something his lover wanted
for him?  Again he spread his legs and again he screamed and again the
pleasure raped him without mercy, exploding inside him with no concern for
his welfare and he loved it, opening himself to it as he might thrust his
body in front of a phaser:  a challenge to reality to destroy him if it
chose.  He had to have this, had to have more of it, and it burned him and
battered him and he whimpered for more.  And got it.
	When Picard came this time it seemed to Q that his lover was
nothing more than sensation, as if his body were simply a symbol of
pleasure and love.  Which was only as it should be.  Unsteadily, he moved
up to take that trembling and spent symbol into his arms, pouring in a bit
of his own energy to keep the flesh from waning too far.  He knew Picard
knew nothing now but what Q wanted him to feel, and, with a thought, he
transferred them to the bed.
	But he had forgotten Picard's greatest gift, and chuffed with
surprise when the seemingly luminescent body in his arms suddenly twisted
and he was beneath his lover's hands and kisses.  All over.  Picard touched
him everywhere, quickly, light little touches that demonstrated a complete
knowledge of his human form.  Q was pleading now, silently, wanting to be
touched but long past the point of needing stimulation.  He was so hard it hurt.
	"My love," the man murmured, and Q thought he would come from the
velvet warmth of that voice alone. "How did I get you?"  He was speaking
in-between kissing a path up along Q's inner thighs.  "How was I so
fortunate?  What could I have done to get *this?*"  He licked the thick
drop of precum from the delicately smooth head of Q's pounding erection and
the whole long body seemed to stretch out with a reaction of pure need. 
"Yes.  That's the taste of my lover.  Caviar and Earl Grey have nothing on you."
	"Beloved..."  It was more than a plea, and with Q's consciousness
enshrouding him with urgent adoration, Picard moved up to straddle his
lover's hips before lowering himself down, becoming one with the other half
of himself.
	The formation of Picard/Q was surprised at the slow ease of this
joining.  They fit inside each other so perfectly now.
	*Don't move,* what was left of the Q part urged, his larged hands
on those narrow hips.  *If you move I'll come.*
	*No, you won't," the Picard part responded confidently, and the
entity relaxed that last bit as he realized his lover had him under his
control.  Reciprocating with joy, he took control of the man's pleasure. 
And now they were fully united and unafraid.  As Picard's body began to
rock back and forth, up and down, sending through them both the bliss that
colored and shaped each fusion they would know, Picard/Q decided together
that there would be no holding back, and faced the depth of the need they
shared.
	It was frightening for them, looking into that space, even
together.  It seemed endless, but Picard/Q had practice finding boundaries,
and eventually they knew it was something they could fill.
	And their bodies moved together now, slowly, at first, then, as
the man's body arced down, touching everywhere the limited flesh could
reach, a dance of hands and hips mimicked in the motions of their lips and
the gliding intertwinings of their tongues.
	Eventually, they rolled sideways on the bed, and Q's right hand
settled around the silky length of Picard's erection and began to stroke,
and Picard's right hand pressed its fingers into Q's tight ass, and they
coordinated everything in a perfect rhythm as Picard/Q watched the fire of
nerves and essence burn brighter than the twinkling candlelight of a sun.  
	*Will this destroy me?*
	*I have belief that it will not.*
	And yet it did, somehow, leaving only this place that they had
made together and sheer light, hot and eager and soothing and filling every
inch of what had been the vast emptiness of joint need.  It was perfect
because they wished it to be so, and it was filled with their lover,
because that was the nature of perfection.

	Later, lying together, contemplating eternity and what to eat for
lunch, Q and Picard amused themselves with silly jokes about the party,
letting it grow into a contest.  Finally, Q managed to come up with a set
of adjectives which suggested that the He-hedrl, if filled with copulating
tribbles instead of men, perfectly described the last admiral's dinner
Picard had been forced to attend.
	Chuckling, Picard declared Q the winner and they twined tightly
about each other and fell asleep.


THE END
Picard and Q will return in "For Q's Eyes Only."*


*Beware, in these waters be dragons.

"O what a piece of work is man." -- Hamlet