From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:13:08 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW To Tell The Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 1/10
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:13:08 GMT
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Hi there.  Ensdelk posting for the AS again.


Our ever helpful friend gave us a new scenario to work with.  As it's
a hurt/comfort situation, it proved to be somewhat less light hearted
than our last few efforts.  Let us know how we did with it, okay?  The
action in this story takes place approximately six months after "First
Contact" in a universe where the events of "The Q and the Gray," did
not take place.

We are using Paramount's characters for non-profit entertainment
purposes.  We've also burrowed without permission from Dr. Suess.
*WARNING* This story contains m/m sex, and scenes of torture. 
Feedback is welcome at: anonsisters@yahoo.com, or on the newsgroup. 
Please request missing sections from us at: anonsisters@yahoo.com. OK
to archive at the ASCEM archive and the Star Trek Slash Archive.




To Tell the Q
by The Anon Sisters
(c) 1997



Jean-Luc Picard had never been so cold.

The Jem'Haddar had taken his clothes almost the second they'd gotten
their hands on him.  Firing without warning on the shuttle he had been
flying between Starbase 73 and the Enterprise, the genetically
engineered soldiers had killed his pilot, beamed him to their ship,
blown up his shuttle and then sped away at top speed.  The Enterprise
had followed for several light-years, but then the Jem'Haddar ship had
slipped into a nebula, employed a series of energy discharges which
had created a screen for the small ship's ion trail, and then slipped
out again, evading the flagship and heading deep into Cardassian
territory.

Or so the Vorta, Ayun, had told the captain as he was torturing him,
using techniques very similar to those used against him the last time
he was in Cardassian hands -- stripping him, implanting one of those
pain devices in his chest, drugging him, asking him questions he
didn't know the answers to.  It was awful, of course, and he knew in
time he would be broken if he weren't rescued, but there was a strange
sort of tedium to the whole business, a case of "been there, done
that" which Picard knew was confusing his torturer.

Over the last few days, Picard had screamed in pain, but he'd felt no
surprise.  He'd been humiliated, but he hadn't been horrified.  He'd
been forced to escape into trances, but when he came out of them, he
still felt a little removed and detached.

Part of the "problem" was that Ayun simply wasn't as good a torturer
as his last torturer had been.  Ayun had no poetry, no philosophy, no
lights.  He simply asked over and over again complex technical
questions that even in his best frame of mind Picard would need a
computer to figure out.  Indeed, part of the captain's mind was
beginning to wonder if they really wanted him to talk at all.

But now things had gotten somewhat creative.  His cell had never been
comfortable, particularly as he had been suffering a variety of
injuries since the first time he'd been dragged and dumped into its
barren confinement.  But now the discomfort had become almost
unbearable by the simple adjustment of the room's temperature.  It was
freezing in here, chilling him completely, turning his breath into
small clouds, making him shiver so hard he knew he was headed for a
death from hypothermia.  

*Perhaps that's what they want,* the captain thought, his arms wrapped
around his naked form as he huddled in a corner and began to die.  *It
is, after all, a simple way to eliminate me.*

Ayun had been asking him about death, Picard remembered in a little
rush of clarity.  Jean-Luc had been strapped to some metal table, his
chest covered in long hot pins which quivered with his heartbeat, and
the Vorta had asked him if he had any idea what would happen to him
when he died.

And Picard, reeling from the pain of those pins, had laughed, unable
to keep from thinking, *Q will come along and make comments about the
proper way to wear pins in one's chest, and then we'll spend eternity
together.*

Ayun had frowned at him then, and the captain had wondered if he'd
said those words aloud, and then the pain had increased, and he'd
passed out. 

And now he was here, and he was really dying, his body shaking not
much at all now, his heart slow in his chest, his arms offering no
warmth.  

He closed his eyes.  God, he was so sleepy.  He thought of his ship,
of Earth, of his entire life.  There was nothing in this room but the
cold.

And then...warmth.  From somewhere, seeping inside him.  From outside
him.  From some sort of...arms, around him, holding him close.

Picard's eyes snapped open.

"Q?" he croaked, his lips bleeding as they cracked open with the
movement that name required.

"I've got you, Jean-Luc."

"No...you don't..." Picard replied.  "I've passed out...again."

"No, you haven't.  It's really me."  He was pulled closer into that
warmth.  "Feel this?"

God, it was cruel, Picard thought.  Why now?  Why had his captors
suddenly decided that now would be a good time to get subtle?  He
couldn't help the fact that his body was burrowing into the warmth of
Q's arms.  *No!*  His mind yelled at him.  *Don't think of him as Q. 
This is a Changeling.  This is *not* Q.*  He repeated that thought as,
by sheer brutal force of will, he began to think of survival.  If the
warmth would keep him alive longer he would use it.  But to believe
that this was Q...no.  He was mildly surprised to discover that, in
spite of his body's rapid descent towards death, his mind was not
willing yet to shut down, or to give up.

The thought gave him pause, as the Changeling's hands rubbed at his
arms.  He had survived here as long as he had by virtue of his
detachment.  As his mind raced, trying to figure ways to refute this
Changeling, to argue and let it know he knew it wasn't Q, he had to
acknowledge that he was no longer detached.  Now he was fighting back
and the problem with fighting back in this situation was that fighting
back could be used against you.  At the Academy, he'd learned,
intellectually at least, that people dealt with torture in different
ways.  Throughout his career, he'd learned that he personally used
distance and detachment to deal with unavoidable pain.  *You go
somewhere where they can't get to you,* he told himself now. 
*Eventually they get you, but that is inevitable.  *Everyone* breaks
under enough torture.*

"It's been over a week," that voice said softly.  Picard marveled that
the Changeling had Q's voice down so well.  Of course, Q had made an
appearance on DS9 once, he remembered.  That must have been when
someone working for the Dominion had seen enough of the entity to be
able to do such a good job.

"That's absurd, Johnny," the being said, making Picard wonder if he'd
spoken out loud again.  "You think some mere bucket of ooze could do
*me*?  Ha!"  Picard was once more pulled close, heat reaching out of
the person in whose arms he remained passive to envelop him.  "Nine
days, actually.  That's amazing, you know.  You may have little regard
for Ayun's techniques..."  The voice trailed off, and then Picard
heard a laugh that was pure Q.  "You are *such* a  snob, Mon
Capitaine.  It's bad enough when it comes to wine or women, but you
really are taking it a little far here."  Picard remained silent,
clenching his jaw.  "As I was saying, do you have any idea how good
you are at that detachment you prize?"  And then, almost as if
speaking to itself, Picard heard the Changeling whisper:  "I wish you
were worse at it.  I could get you out of here then."

Any hope that this might actually be Q died then.  

"Oh come, Jean-Luc.  Do you think it's just that easy?  Do you think
if I could get you out of things like this without getting the entire
Continuum on my case that I wouldn't have rescued you before?"  The
Changeling's warmth was really beginning to permeate his body now. 
His shivers were dying.  He was beginning to feel his hands and feet
again.  "Do you think you would have been tortured by the Cardassians?
 Almost taken over by the Borg Queen?  Do you think you would have
been *Locutus* if I could have just walked in and said, 'Keep your
hands off him?'"

*Q's never been one to follow rules,* Picard thought.

"Well, there are rules and there are rules.  This is one I agree with,
however reluctantly.  You would hardly have thanked me for rescuing
you, would you have?  I can see you resigning your commission over it
or something.  Even now, as desperately as you want out of here, you
don't want me, little old Q, to snap my fingers and save you. 
Besides, you don't know me, Mon Capitaine.  I've been a fine,
upstanding Q these days.  You might even be proud of me."

*How is the Changeling reading my mind?  Do they have some sort of
device like they did on Kesprit?*

"If you don't like my reading your mind, Jean-Luc, you might try
talking.  And stop calling me 'the Changeling.'  I'm Q, can't you tell?"

Picard pulled away enough to look at him, shocked at the tiny pulse of
pleasure looking into that face, even in replica, brought him.  "I
have nothing to tell you."

"Jean-Luc, I'm so insulted."  And indeed, there was an almost hurt
quality to the Changeling's expression.  Those dark eyes, always so
alive and alert, full of challenge, full of...

*Stop it.  You're not Q.*

The creature with him sighed, and then snuggled closer.  Picard wanted
to pull away, to push him away...but his body craved the warmth of his
arms.  It was inexpressibly comforting to be held like this.  Besides,
somehow it would be harder to sit away from the Changeling naked as he
was than to be close like this.  It felt almost as if he were
*wearing* the Changeling, his body tucked into that warm and solid form.

No, this wasn't a solid form.  He should move away.

But he didn't.

"I'm not even allowed to give you something to eat," the Q-thing was
complaining now, his arms tighter and warmer than ever around Picard's
body.  "But I can help you sleep."

"How?"  Picard's eyes were narrow with suspicion.

The Q-thing smiled.  "I'm going to hold you and keep you warm, and
that way you can sleep in my arms."  The Q-thing made an almost shy
expression.  "That sounds rather nice, don't you think?  I have to
admit I've thought about getting you to sleep in my arms before.  And
when you're feeling up to it, maybe you can admit it too."

Picard felt angry now, primarily at himself.  How could he have given
away so much to Ayun?  He must have blabbed and blabbed about Q.  Or
were they just guessing that he felt...certain things about the entity?

Where *was* Q, anyway?  He hadn't seen him in years.  Had the
Continuum grown tired of him?

"I'm *here,* Mon Capitaine."  The Q-thing actually sounded plaintive
now.  "And I'm going to stay here with you, help you through this as
much as I can."

"You just said you weren't allowed to help me."

"I'm not allowed to rescue you, there's a difference.  Think of this
as being like the helping hand I gave you with the anomaly."

*Hm.  The Dominion has greater access to classified Starfleet
information than we thought.  But why did they bother with information
about the anomaly?  Have they been setting this up?  Was this all to
make me ready to believe Q was here?  Is this all about learning about
my knowledge of Q?*

"You know, Jean-Luc.  Sometimes I think it's a shame you're not a
Cardassian.  With a mind like yours you could have run the Obsidian
Order."

Picard struggled not to snap some sort of quick answer back.  For one
thing, that was the way he dealt with Q, and this was not Q, and for
another thing, he was too tired to come up with anything clever.  Now
that physical contact with another being was not only warming him up
but making him lose his detachment, he could admit that he was so
tired of all of this, that what he really wanted to do was go to sleep
and wake up and have this all have been some horrible dream.

*No,* he told himself firmly.  *Blank survival, give them blank
survival for as long as you can.*  He shivered in a motion that had
nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the situation. 
The Q-things's hands, large and warm and oh so gentle, stroked him
carefully, spreading warmth over his arms and shoulders.  *Good cop,
bad cop,* Picard thought desperately, repeating the thought over and
over.

"Damnit!" that voice that sounded so much like Q's voice muttered. 
"This was supposed to help, now you're just getting more agitated. 
Can't you rest?"

Picard said nothing.  He'd accept the warmth because he needed it to
stay alive.  But they would have nothing else out of him.  Did they
really think that just because he had a...fascination or whatever it
was, for Q, he'd crumble just because someone that looked like the
maddening entity held him close?

"Think?  Oh, come now, Mon Capitaine, these morons couldn't think if
they climbed three more steps up the evolutionary ladder.  I'm
beginning to realize that that's what upsets me most about you
thinking I'm one of them."   The Q-thing sighed.  "You give them far
too much credit and me not nearly enough."

It certainly sounded like Q, disgusted with a lesser species, and hurt
because Picard wasn't acknowledging the entity's cleverness.  But it
couldn't be Q.  The Changeling had everything down right, the form that
was still wrapped around Picard's body, warming him more than another
human would, that voice that wrapped around his mind, all of it was Q.
 Except for one thing:  Q would never come and sit and hold Picard in
this seemingly simple gesture of comfort.  Q did not comfort, did not
understand the human need for comfort.  Q had never comforted him
before.

"And you wanted me too?  Please, Jean-Luc, if I'd showed up and offered
to hold you close after your recent encounter with the Borg, you'd have
thrown me off, and very likely broken your knuckles trying to punch my
lights out."  Again there was a soft, almost reflective whisper.  "Not
that I didn't want to, mind you."  There was a sigh.  "Look, this is
absurd.  You need to sleep; they'll be back for you soon.  I wasn't
going to do this, but..."

Picard felt his eyes grow heavy and he knew he was sliding inexorably
toward sleep.  He couldn't fight it and vaguely wondered if this had
all been some sort of odd near-death hallucination, and he was really
dying of the cold.  One became sleepy as one neared death from
hypothermia, everyone knew that.  Maybe he had dreamed all this.  And,
as he slid down deeper toward sleep or death, he dimly thought that he
couldn't lie to himself now.  His subconscious had indeed been kind
and given him the one dream he needed before death.  As his eyes
fluttered closed, he burrowed deeper into that warmth, and murmured,
"Q."

He couldn't see the tears spring to those dark eyes, or feel the way he
was settled into those strong arms so that he would be as comfortable as
possible while he slept.  He certainly didn't hear the words uttered by
the being whose face briefly contorted with rage.  "If you assholes
think I'm going to let him die..."

Someone was touching him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking
him, and at that rough handling Picard couldn't help thinking, *Well,
Q wouldn't touch me that way.  I suppose it was a dream.*

He opened his eyes to see two Jem'Haddar soldiers staring at him. 
Their faces were horned armor, and yet in them the man dimly perceived
puzzlement.  The soldiers exchanged a look almost of confusion, and
then the one with his hand on Picard's shoulder hooked his grasp under
his arm and dragged him to his feet.

They walked down the hallway outside his cell, and Picard realized he
had never seen his surroundings so clearly.  Usually he was being
dragged through these corridors, drugged or half-unconscious from
pain.  His night's sleep had done him a world of good, and he was
grateful to his dream for having helped him achieve it.

It was more than a little embarrassing, he admitted to himself, to
have dreamed of Q like that.  He wondered why he'd imagined his hands
feeling so good on his skin, then sneered at himself for the question.
 Still, it was amusing that he'd imagined Q the Tormentor as his
comforter.  His subconscious had known all along, however much his
conscious mind might have  tried to ignore it, that Q would make an
ideal friend, if only he would stop testing Picard and calling him
names.

*Actually,* the unbidden thought came as they neared the end of the
corridor and some large doors Picard dimly recognized, *he could test
and insult me all he likes, if he would only...*

The Captain of the Enterprise shook the thought off, squaring his
shoulders as though he were in uniform and standing on his bridge
instead of naked and entering his captor's office.

Ayun stood up and away from his desk as the soldiers led Picard into
the room.

"Amazing," the Vorta said, his strange eyes looking Picard up and
down.  "Quite amazing.  I must say I was in error to discard you so
quickly.  You humans must be made of something more than we had
realized.  Really, Picard.  You should have died in minutes."

Picard thought with well-concealed smugness of his dream, then
realized with disquiet that dreams did not generally possess the
ability to keep one warm.

*Could it have been Q?*

No, Picard realized with a sharp and bitter wave of disappointment. 
It had been a Changeling.  This business here with Ayun was just a way
of trying to convince him that Q had been there.  He stared at Ayun
with blank eyes and forced himself to think of warp theory equations.

"I'll tell you what," Ayun was saying, his smarmy smile oozing charm,
"you explain to me how you survived the night in a room which should
have frozen you to death, and I'll let you go all day without being
tortured.  I'll even see to it that you get something to eat."

*But even with the elevated temperature, the intermix ratio of matter
to anti-matter remains one-to-one.*

Ayun looked angry.  Picard thought absently the Vorta had no idea how
weak the look made him seem.

"Put him in with the Nausicans," Ayun snapped to the Jem'Haddar.  The
soldiers grabbed him by the arms and marched him from the room.

"When you're ready to talk, Picard, you will let me know," Ayun called
after him.

Down another corridor, to another door, which opened.  Picard was
tossed inside to confront four extremely large and naked Naussican
males.  The smallest of them was on his hands and knees while the
others seemed to be engaged in taking turns fucking him.  At Picard's
entrance, the thrusting and grunting and shouting stopped.  All four
looked at him with hungry eyes, especially the one currently being
fucked.

"Oh, please," Picard said politely.  "Don't let me interrupt."

They came at him in a sort of rush.  The two who had been engaged in
each other barely broke apart before four pair of fists were
connecting with Picard's body.  He fought back well, but he was
starved and greatly weakened from the torture, while they were
obviously being well-kept.

"Get his arm!"

"Get him on the floor."

"No, with his legs *open!*"

"He's too told to last long.  I'm first."

"He struggles well."

Dazed from the beating, Picard felt hands on his backside and knew
what was coming.  It was a hazard all who would explore the cosmos
must face.  Somehow, he would get through this.  Whatever these
Nausicans could do would be nothing compared to the Borg.  He needed
to remember that.

"No, Harg!  I will be first!"

"No!  He is *mine!*"

"Hold him for me!"

Picard tensed as he heard the sound of flesh impacted by fists, but no
further pain came to his body.  In fact, the Naussicans weren't doing
a very good job holding him down anymore.  The sounds of fighting
increased, and when the man realized that he could break away, he did.

Sitting now in the corner of the cell, the captain watched as the four
Naussicans fought amongst themselves for the right to rape him first. 
They were screaming curses now.  The smallest one was thrown against
the wall so roughly, Picard was not surprised to hear the crack of his
neck being broken.  The three others went at each other all the more
fiercely, and the largest one, older and a little fatter than the
other two, was pounded to death with the others' fists.  The final two
locked their hands around each others' throats and soon throttled one
another out of existence.

Two hours later, when the Jem'Haddar returned, they found Picard still
sitting in the corner, while the four dead Naussicans were sprawled
about the cell.

"What did you do to them?" Ayun screamed a few moments later.  Picard,
sensing that the dynamic of his relationship with the Vorta was shifting
more and more into his own favor, remained silent as he stood in front
of the desk.  He couldn't have told Ayun anything anyway, as he hadn't
done anything.  In spite of the circumstances, that distant and
carefully controlled part of his brain that held his sense of humor
was rather amused that four Nausicans would fight to the death over a
65-year-old starship captain.  

*Odd,* he thought.  *It isn't like Nausicans to do something like
that.*  He hadn't been paying attention to Ayun and suddenly his
tormentor was right in front of Jean-Luc.  The Vorta began slapping
the man's face over and over, as the Jem'Haddar soldiers kept Picard
from falling at the strength of the blows.  

"Work him over," Ayun said, his rage still not assuaged.

Picard didn't struggle, and soon he was screaming as three Jem'Haddar
beat him with fists and booted feet while Ayun watched.  The pain was
brutal, but there was no way that this kind of careless, uncontrolled,
beating was going to break him.  *Of course,* he thought, almost
wryly, *it may well kill me.*  Finally he blanked out, reaching for an
old memory that he'd taken refuge in once before, a memory of a time
before the division in his family had split the Picards into two
camps, a memory of a time when they had sung after dinner...

When he returned to himself, he was in his cell again, still mumbling
a song from that long ago time.  Everything hurt, and as he moved, he
could tell that he had several broken ribs.  His mouth felt huge and
he wasn't surprised to discover that he'd lost two teeth and that
three more were loose.  His lower back hurt fiercely, causing him to
wonder if he'd taken damage to his kidneys and he was a mass of cuts
and bruises.  His nose throbbed with each movement.  His one triumph,
if it were a triumph, was that the cell was not icy cold anymore.

"Oh," a voice breathed.   "Jean-Luc..."  Hands were gliding over him
then, carefully and deftly assessing the damage.  The touch was even
warmer than it had been last night, and when Picard opened his eyes he
wasn't surprised to see a being that looked like Q looking back at
him.  An odd numbness seemed to follow each touch of the Q-thing's
hands, and as the pain receded, Picard began to focus on the present
again.

"Why?" he asked, feeling a little nauseated at the coppery taste of
blood in his mouth.

"Because I can't stand to see you like this.  I don't know why, I've
seen you look worse.  Maybe it's that this is all so senseless."

"Why do you pretend?" Picard clarified, annoyed that the Changeling
still pretended to be Q.  "I don't believe that you're Q.  I won't
believe it."

"Stubborn fool," the Q-thing said in perfectly accented French.  Its
hands stroked his face and the healing warmth and numbness followed. 
The taste of blood vanished from Picard's mouth, and he could suddenly
breathe without pain.  He raised his own hands, which were shaking, he
noticed clinically, to his face, pressing at his jaw, which no longer
ached.  Quickly running his tongue around in his mouth, he discovered
that, while he was still missing two teeth, the rest of his teeth were
tight in their sockets.

"How..?" he began to ask, curious, in spite of himself, at how this
healing had been accomplished.  He bit back the rest of the question,
trying to slide back into that place where none of this was real.

"I'm omnipotent, Jean-Luc," the Q-thing said.  "Or nearly so," it
amended.  "I can't do anything truly blatant and noticeable, like heal
up those ribs, give you your teeth back, or take care of the visible
bruises, but I can make things hurt a lot less.  You were right, by
the way; you took some kidney damage.  Since it's not visible and that
thick-brained fool didn't scan you, I've taken care of it."

"I don't believe you."

"I know.  Why not?"

Picard refused to answer.  Deep in the back of his mind, the growing
discrepancy between Ayun's increasingly obvious lack of control and
this Changeling's subtle game was bothering the captain.  It was off;
it didn't add up.  Did Ayun not know about the Changeling's
involvement with his victim?  *I might be able to drive a wedge
between the two,* Picard thought.  *Play one off against the other.*

"You are a credit to Starfleet," that rich voice said, sounding
amazingly serious.

*Not Q,* Picard thought.  *Q's never admired me for anything.*

"Au contraire," the creature replied.  "In fact, I've been accused of
admiring you too much.*

Picard actually laughed.  It was all so ridiculous, so very un-Q-like.
 Half-delirious, Picard lifted his face suddenly to that mirror of Q's
face and kissed him on the cheek like a proper Frenchman.

"Oh, the admiration is mutual," he assured the Q-thing, then laughed
again. 

"Jean-Luc?"  The Q-like voice actually sounded quite concerned.

*Go to hell.*  Picard was dropping off now, falling into an abyss from
which there was no escape, sinking into inky pitch, the darkness of
nothing.  He had never been so tired, and right this minute he was
going to pretend that these were Q's arms around him, that Q was here,
pressed against him, comforting his body.  He began to drift towards
sleep.

The Q-thing kissed him back, a soft, lingering kiss on the side of his
face.  Even though the man knew the lips touching him only looked and
felt like Q's, a small thrill ran down the length of his whole body,
causing him to shiver with the mix of warmth and cold.  Picard's eyes
opened, and he was suddenly aware as he had yet to be aware that he
was naked.  He looked down at himself.

And promptly lost to shock the warmth the Q-thing's kiss had given
him.  His pale skin showed plainly an astonishing level of bruising. 
It was torn and bleeding and black and blue and yellow and several
other colors as well.  *I should be dying.  I should be dead already
with that much damage.  How is the Changeling doing this?*

"Damnit, Picard.  Use that brain of yours for something besides
plotting strategies against your jailers.  I'm *here* and I can help
you, if you'll only believe it's me.  And don't think 'Q never helped
me.'  You know that's not true."

"If you're Q," he growled, "tell me where the Enterprise is."

"Now, think about that one, Jean-Luc.  If you knew that, you might
tell it to Ayun.  Or, at least, you might worry that you might tell it
to Ayun.  Giving you information that the Vorta would prize wouldn't
be doing you any favors."

"How convenient for you," Picard mumbled.  He was so tired.  "Now you
don't have to answer any questions."

"Ask me something the Vorta wouldn't ask you."

But Picard was sliding away now.  *Let me sleep in your arms again.*

The Q-thing answered by increasing the warmth his entire body gave
off, and, shuddering with the relief of that warmth, the man finished
his unobstructed glide all the way into unconsciousness.


END PART ONE






            



____________________________________________________________________

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:14:49 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW To Tell The Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 2/10
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:14:49 GMT
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To Tell the Q
2/10 disclaimers in 1/10



He was standing in Q's courtroom, but the audience wasn't there.  Q
was.  He was standing in front of his throne, looking down on Picard
with his arms crossed, his judge's robes flowing in brilliant red to
the platform on which he stood.

"Humans," Q sneered.  "Gullible and primitive.  Shall we run through
an assessment of all the damage you've done to the cosmos?"

The creature holding Jean-Luc close shifted just a bit in unconscious
protest.  *Oh, really, Mon Capitaine!  Do you have to dream of me in
that scene again?  Considering that I'm here holding you, why don't
you have a nice dream of me in your bed?  I've shown up in it often
enough.*

"Think of the other races you've subverted in the name of peace and
'good-relations,'" the dream Q hissed.  "When you realize you're all
nothing more than self-deluded...ohhhh..."

*Ohhhh,* thought the creature holding Picard.

In the dream, Picard had put his hands out and had opened Q's robes to
reveal bare legs and a rather impressive erection.  Without much
preamble, Jean-Luc had moved forward in his dream and taken Q in his
mouth.

*Haven't done this in a while,* Picard thought in his dream.  Indeed,
he'd tried a few tentative maneuvers with other men when he was still
a teenager:  experiments that had completely paled beside the pleasure
he found with women.  Still, he knew he wasn't shaming himself.  Q's
cock fit perfectly inside his mouth, and he ran his tongue around the
velvet and silk feel of him while Q's incredible voice moaned.

The creature holding Jean-Luc was having difficulties with his very
real erection.  The fact that Picard was hard in his sleep wasn't
helping matters.

*I could touch him and bring him off,* the real Q thought.  *Maybe
he'd wake up and return the favor.*  In the dream, the courtroom Q was
getting close to climax, and Picard was running his palms up and down
the backs of Q's legs.  *Or maybe he'd wake up and feel violated and
never speak to me again.*

Q saw the course of Picard's dream begin to shift into a nightmare and
stopped that change.  Telling himself he was only trying to help the
man find peace in his sleep, Q *became* the Q of Picard's dream,
feeling the pale shadow of sensation that entering a human's dream
brought.  He did not feel Picard's lips on him, but felt what Picard
felt.  Q concentrated on helping the man remember the sensation of hot
cum shooting into his mouth, then let the entire dream dissolve as he
slid back into deeper sleep.

Humans, Q knew, needed their nightmares.  But one night of sweet
dreams wouldn't drive Picard insane.  So, later, when the man dreamed
of being beaten, Q turned the images into willow trees in a storm, and
when Picard dreamed of being home in France, Q made sure his father
and brother didn't turn into the Jem'Haddar.  

He hurt when he woke up.  Picard slowly sat up, aching and stiff, and
feeling as if he'd tried to scale Mt. Everest in his sleep. 
*Everything hurts, but I shouldn't just be sore, I should be dead,* he
thought in a stark burst of clarity.  He looked down at himself, he
was bruised and
battered, and there was a tearing, sharp pain in his side every time
he moved.  *Broken ribs,* he thought.  *Q said he couldn't...*  He
stopped in mid-thought.  *It wasn't Q!* he snapped at himself.  *It
can't have been Q.*  Although he usually didn't remember his dreams,
he seemed to have a vague memory of having a dream, one of *those*
dreams, about the entity last night.  He felt a wave of embarrassment
wash over him and then had to shake his head at his thought processes.  

*I'm in a prison cell, being held by the Dominion, and about to be
tortured by a Vorta who's starting to take this rather personally, and
I'm worried about an erotic dream about *Q*?*  It would hardly be the
first such dream he'd had, and obviously the Changeling's presence had
brought it on.  The  Changeling...What was that all about anyway? 
Last night, he'd been coming off the beating; he'd been confused and
incapable of rational thought because of the endorphins battling with
the pain in his system.  Now he realized that he might have something
to use against Ayun, and he sat quietly, trying to work it all out. 
Were the Changeling and the Vorta working in tandem?  Or did Ayun even
know of the Changeling's presence aboard this ship?  Ayun didn't
*seem* intelligent enough to carry off such an elaborate deception. 
Indeed, yesterday's rage had been an obvious loss of control.  Picard
dimly remembered the Jem'Haddar glancing at one another when they
thought he wasn't looking as they brought him back to his cell.

The door of the cell opening startled him and he looked up to see the
same two Jem'Haddar guards.  "Good morning," he said sardonically. 
They ignored him as one covered the door and the other tossed a
package of something down on the floor.  Picard made no move to get up
and the one guarding the door looked at him with something that might
have been respect.

"You're to eat," the Jem'Haddar said curtly.  "He wants to...test you
once you're stronger.  You can rest today."  With that, the two were
gone.  

Picard looked at the package, forcing himself to remain where he was. 
It created an interesting dilemma.  Did he eat because a prisoner's first
duty was to survive?  Or did he starve himself because Ayun wanted him
strong?
His mental debate was interrupted with a flash of light.

"Really Jean-Luc, you are so devious." 

Picard glared at him.  He was too hungry and feeling too awful to deal
with this now.  *Idiot,* he told himself sternly, *that's why he's here."

"No, I'm here to do what I can to help.  Q bent and picked up the
package.
"Here," he said tossing it to Picard.  "You know you need it." 

"How are you doing it?"  Picard caught the package automatically.  He
opened
it up and recognized ration bars.  Funny how they looked the same
regardless
of where you were.

"Doing what, Jean-Luc?" the Q-thing asked as he restlessly paced the
cell.

"Reading my mind."  Picard bit curiously into a ration bar.  Bland,
chewy
instead of crunchy, it was much like any other ration bar he'd ever
eaten.
He had to force himself to eat slowly.

"The way I *always* do.  By the way, I don't like being thought of as
the 'Q-thing.'"

"Too bad," Picard muttered around a mouthful of ration bar.  "I refuse
to believe that you're Q."  He shook his head.  

"What if I am?"  Picard didn't reply, having discovered that there was
a plastic bubble of water in the package.  "I'm serious.  What are you
willing to bet that I can't prove to you that I'm not a Changeling,
that I'm Q?"

"Bet?"

"Yes.  How about a favor for a favor?"

"What do you mean?" Picard asked after another large bite of the
ration bar.

"If I can prove to you that I'm Q, you get to ask me for one favor. 
And I get to do the same of you."

"This is the most absurd..."  Picard fell silent as he heard noise
outside the cell.  Footsteps pounded down the hall, and he moved
carefully to the door.  The Changeling stood in the middle of the
room, just watching him, and Picard wondered if this were a test of
some kind.  

"No, Jean-Luc," the Q-thing said in that perfect French.  "Not this
time.  I'll see you later."  There was an all-too-familiar flash of
white light and the being vanished.  Picard didn't have time to think
about the Changeling, as he heard footsteps coming to a halt near the
cell's door.   He flattened his back against the wall to one side of
the door and waited.  When the door opened, the rush of air entering
the cell had an odd flat, sweetish smell to it.  Picard relaxed at the
scent, and when a black-clad and masked figure with gold eyes stepped
into the cell, he didn't even fight.  As he passed out, he was already
dreading waking up after a dose of anesthzine gas.

"Jean-Luc?"

Beverly's voice was absurdly sweet in his ears, and the captain smiled
before he got his eyes open to squint up into the welcome sight of her
lovely and familiar face.

"Beverly."

She smiled, but he could tell there was something odd in her
expression, a question that didn't want to wait its turn to be asked. 
Quickly, she ran through her usual litany:  he was all better now,
though he would be sore for 48 hours.  He should let her know
immediately if anything unexpected hurt.

Picard sat up while she spoke, feeling as uncomfortable as he always
did in the Sickbay gown, then sat there and waited for her unasked
question.  She turned from him instead of asking it, however, leaving
him to look after her with a puzzled frown.  Deanna smiled at him from
the corner, sitting quietly in her chair and observing everything.  He
knew later they would talk and talk.  For now he settled for smiling
back with a nod.

"You're looking well, sir," Riker's voice told him, and Picard's head
swiveled around with another easy smile.  The commander and Data
walked into Sickbay to stand by his biobed.

"Excellent rescue, Mr. Data.  Though I'm not quite sure why you had to
render me unconscious."

"Given the nature of your incarceration and the length of your stay,
we were uncertain in what sort of physical or mental shape we would
find you, sir.  Since speed was essential, we determined that putting
you to sleep would be more practical than attempting an on-site
evaluation."

Picard nodded with a slightly rueful expression.  "Understood, Mr.
Data."

Riker was smiling broadly.  "We managed to avoid an actual shooting
match.  Fortunately, one Vorta and a squad of Jem'Haddar wouldn't seem
important enough to warrant more than two patrol ships.  We managed to
get in and out quickly.  They tried to chase us, but we made it across
the boarder without incident."

Picard nodded again, frowning this time.  "Actually, there was a
Founder on the ship."

The others reacted with surprise.  "A Founder?" Riker echoed.  "You'd
think they'd have been more cautious.  What was he doing there?"

Picard was startled by how difficult it was to say:  "Impersonating Q,
actually."

The surprised reactions were a bit more extreme this time.  Crusher
left her work station and rejoined them with a thoughtful expression. 
It seemed to be time for her question.

"Jean-Luc, while your injuries were severe, they were not as serious
as they seemed to be when I first began to examine you."  She held up
something Picard realized had to be the neural transmitter they had
implanted in his body.  "In addition to their use of this, I also
found signs of severe beatings."

Picard nodded uncomfortably.

"There were broken ribs, some teeth I had to replace, deep body
bruising...but none of your organs was affected nor did I find any
nerve damage."

"You sound disappointed, Doctor."

She smiled distractedly.  "I would have found this lack of serious
injury less puzzling if the marks of impact on your body hadn't looked
so random and brutal."

"What is it you're asking?" Riker wanted to know.

Her eyes looked down at the device in her hand a moment, then came up
to stare into the captain's.  "Are you sure it wasn't Q?"

"Quite sure.  I think it more likely the Founder was using some sort
of medical technology either to heal me or to keep me from being too
badly injured."

"But why impersonate Q?" Crusher asked, her face betraying a hint of
revulsion.

Picard felt strangely irritated by her question, or perhaps simply by
the way she asked it.  "I don't know.  But for the sort of preparation
required for what they were doing, I believe they must have been
planning their little drama carefully.  They may simply have been
interested in the Q and seen me as a way to access information about
them.  After all, the Q are a powerful species, and have been known to
associate with humans.  The Founders may be wondering if they'll need
to deal with them in some way."

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this," Riker said.  "But I think
I'd like to see the Founders try to deal with the Q."

Picard laughed softly in agreement, aware that he was very tired.

"I'll be releasing you to your quarters," Crusher said, giving Troi
her cue to stand up and walk forward.  "But there's one other thing. 
I found evidence from your scans that you were exposed to extreme
cold, but no indications of hypothermia or frostbite.  More trickery
by the fake Q?"

"Yes," Picard said quite shortly.  He really did *not* want to discuss
how he'd stayed warm.

"The rest of the questions can wait until tomorrow," Troi spoke up
softly, holding up the captain's bathrobe.  "If I might walk you to
your quarters, sir?"

With a clap on Data's back and a smile and nod each for Riker and
Crusher, Picard left Sickbay with the counselor.  Crewmen nodded and
smiled at him as he passed, calling him "Captain," and showing their
pleasure and pride in his safe return.

"The Founder impersonating Q," Troi began.  "It must have be difficult
not to trust in him."

"Can't this wait until tomorrow, Counselor?"

"Certainly, sir."  Troi walked him to the turbo-lift in compliant
silence.

Picard entered the lift, called out his deck, and sighed.  "Yes.  It
was difficult to resist believing that he was Q."

"Could it also be difficult to believe that he was?"

Picard frowned at her.  "I'm not following you."

"*Could* it have been Q, Captain?"

"No."

"Because he kept you safe?"

Picard frowned at the lift doors as they opened, then marched into the
corridor and then all the way to his quarters' doors before looking at
her crossly.  Her calm expression deflated his anger.

"The Changeling's appearance and voice were just like Q," he told her,
"but the content of what he said was nothing like Q.  I will be making
a full report."

"If you'll allow me to say so, sir, your reports about Q are rarely
'complete.'"

"Meaning?"

Troi's eyebrows rose rather archly at his hostile tone.  "I'm only
suggesting, sir, that you might want to consider that it was Q,
perhaps acting out of character in an attempt to disconcert you."

"Noted.  Goodnight, Counselor."

"Goodnight, Captain.  And...it's good to have you back."

Picard's anger melted again.  He touched her arm lightly, and smiled. 
"It's good to be back, Deanna."  Then he went into his room, sighing
in quiet relief as he saw that all was as he had left it.

"Tea," he told the replicator.  "Earl Grey.  Hot."

"Jean-Luc, just for once, couldn't you drink Oolong?"

Picard turned and stared, a terrible suspicion forming in his mind.  "Or
peppermint," that familiar voice continued, "which is supposed to be
soothing to the stomach.  You could use something that is soothing to
your stomach right now.  It's in knots, but then, you knew that." 
Dark eyes regarded Picard.  "Tell me honestly, Jean-Luc, why would you
rather believe that I'm a Founder who somehow got on board the
Enterprise, or that this is all some sort of virtual reality and that
you're still on the station, than believe that I'm Q?"

Picard deliberately picked up the cup of tea that had materialized in
the replicator.  He walked calmly over to his desk and, bringing up his
terminal, carefully scrolled through Data's report on the rescue
mission.  Everyone who had boarded the station had been scanned, from
Data on down to the crewman who had carried the captain back to the
runabout Loire.  The whole runabout had been thoroughly scanned by
LaForge.  There was no way a Founder could have come aboard the
Enterprise.  Of course, this didn't address his worry that the whole
thing was a simulation of some kind.  

"Why, Jean-Luc?  Why can't you believe me?"

"Because if I make the wrong decision here, thousands of people could
die.  We're close," he said, almost to himself.  "So close to the
edge, both here and with the Klingons."

"But it's the same stupid thing that it was with the Cardassians,
Jean-Luc! All of Starfleet's plans will have been changed.  Troi and
Riker will question you, and you'll all write reports, and anything
you could have told that idiot Ayun will be analyzed to death."

"Please," Picard said, suddenly full of an anger he'd been suppressing
for almost two weeks now.  It didn't matter that this probably *was*
Q, it didn't matter that the entity had very likely saved his life
more than once; Picard was furious.  "Please do go on.  Are you going
to tell me next how I'm not that important?"  He reached for his tea,
but changed his mind when he saw how his hands were shaking.  "How I'm
an obtuse piece..."  To his surprise, he could hardly get the words
out through the knot in his throat.  "How...I'm not...good enough..." 
The fact that he was crying would have been horribly humiliating if it
hadn't felt so...

"Good," Q said gently.  Somehow the entity was leaning against
Picard's desk, pulling Jean-Luc into his arms.  "It's all right,
Jean-Luc," he crooned.  "It's all right...you're home...you're safe..."

At first, Picard was sobbing so loudly that he didn't even hear Q, and
then as he did, he also heard the door right near his desk whoosh
open.  "Captain..." an accented female voice began to say.

"Go away.  *Please,* Deanna, let me try..."

There was a moment of silence and Picard gained enough of his
composure to look up at Deanna.  If it had been anyone else, he
wouldn't have managed, but Deanna had seen him much worse than this. 
The empath had a look of mingled confusion and anger on her face. 
"Just tell me," Picard said, gulping, "if it's really Q."   His mind
was protesting, telling him that it was a meaningless question, but
something else made his arms tighten around the warmth, that same
warmth that had saved his life.

"Yes," Deanna said softly, her face calming.  "It is."

She looked at Q, undoubtedly telling him something about the proper
care and handling of a fragile starship captain, and then nodded to
both of them and left.  She had to know the absurdity of both Picard's
question and her own answer.  She also had to know, Picard thought
dimly, how much her captain needed something, something she couldn't
give.

"She loves you," Q said softly.  "She admires you more than you know
and she loves you in a way that has nothing to do with sex or your
paternal demeanor."  He tightened his grip on Picard.  "They all do,
you know.  They didn't ask to go in after you, Riker just went.  He'd
have done it if they had told him not to."

Picard heard the words and he would recall them later, but now they
only sparked one question:  "And you?"

Q did him the courtesy of not pretending that he didn't know what the
captain meant.  "Yes," he said heavily, almost angrily.  "How could I
not?  How could I look at you, see *everything* I lack, everything
that my whole species lacks and not feel the way I do?  'Not good
enough?'"  The entity shook his head.  "Jean-Luc, you're so far beyond
merely 'good enough,' that it hurts."  Picard stared at him in shock. 
"I may be exiled again because of the last two days.  It doesn't
matter; like Riker, I'd have done it anyway."  He never let go of
Picard, but Jean-Luc watched as Q struggled for that veneer of levity
that Picard now suspected was more of a mask than Q would ever admit. 
"Although, unlike Number One, who's never figured it out, I *know*
what all those women of yours see in you."

"Don't, Q," Picard said, aware that tears were still coming out of his
eyes.  "Don't push me away with campy sexual innuendo."

"You've never objected before."

"You've never complimented me before.  At least," he added when Q's
mouth opened to object, "not so overtly.  Why the sudden change?"

"I've known you for a decade, mon ami.  That's hardly sudden."

"You're really horrible, you know."  Picard's voice was deep as he
leaned deliberately into the warmth and comfort of Q's arms.  In a
minute, doubtlessly, Q would pull away, and they would go back to
their usual bickering.  But right this minute the body inside his
embrace was holding him with strength and acceptance, and it was as if
those qualities were permeating his whole body, the osmosis continuing
into his mind and bringing him peace.  "You won't ever answer
questions you don't want to," he mumbled.

"Hmm.  I believe that sounds familiar, Mon Capitaine," Q murmured
softly, gently as was his embrace, smiling to himself as Picard began
to drift towards sleep.

But then the man roused himself somewhat.  He couldn't just fall
asleep here at his desk.

But then there was a flash and they were lying together in his bed,
arms still around each other, and Picard had to laugh.  The entity had
changed his own Starfleet uniform for a ridiculous white nightshirt
and nightcap, complete with a tassel which hung to the side of his
face.  Picard himself was in his own pajamas.  Abruptly, he stopped
laughing.

*He's seen me naked.  He held me for hours while I had no clothes on.*

"Well," Q said softly, though his usual wry edge was not absent, "it's
only fair.  You saw me naked that time on your bridge, and considering
what all I'd been stripped of, I'd say I was nakeder then than you
were in that cell."

But Picard knew his face was turning red now as he struggled not to
think about the dream he'd had while he slept within the warmth of Q's
embrace.  Q could read his mind rather easily.  Doubtlessly he'd known
about the dream.

"Of course I knew about it," Q said, his tone keeping the potentially
damaging announcement from stinging too much.  He pressed his body
just a bit more completely against the man's.  "I knew about the very
first one you ever had about me, right after you saw me all dressed up
as a martial of France."

"I never!"

Q smiled dreamily.  "There I was in my spiffy uniform, and there you
were, a private under my command.  You came into my tent before the
eve of battle and asked if there were anything you could do to help,
and then you let me kiss you and jerk you off."

Picard's face was so hot he thought Q might warm his hands over it. 
He knew, however, that Q's hands were already warm.  One was pressing
against the silk over his back, the other wrapped around his side
right above his hip.  "I don't remember that at all," he protested
weakly.

"Your seventeenth dream about me was better," Q continued in the same
rapturous tone.  "It was right after I'd gotten my powers back, and
you had me in my little mariachi outfit, and you were all dressed up
as a gaucho, and we went out under the stars in Mexico and fucked each
other near some sage brush."

Picard realized that did sound familiar.

"Of course," Q said with disappointment, "since you've never actually
had intercourse with another man, your subconscious had difficulty
filling in the details, so finally it just felt like you were making
love with a woman.  It was rather something, really, for me: 
imagining myself with a vagina and holding your penis inside me."  He
smiled tenderly while the captain simply closed his eyes in
embarrassment, his blush spreading all the way down his chest.  Both
of them could feel the beginnings of Picard's erection.

"You'll understand, I hope, I've replayed that particular dream more
than once.  I was giving you so much pleasure in it.  You were inside
me and you never wanted to leave because I felt so good..."  Abruptly
and angrily, Q sighed.  "You're trembling and you're exhausted. 
Honestly, it's like getting the Prom Queen drunk in the backseat of my
car.  I'm sorry, Jean-Luc.  All you really want now is to rest."

Picard's eyes opened, though his body remained tense and his
expression wary.

"It's all right," Q promised.  "I'm just going to hold you and you're
just going to sleep."

"Q..."

"Shhhh.  It's all right.  One of the reasons I love you so much is
that you're more than a match for me.  You don't have to prove it
right now.  Don't you understand?  The Continuum isn't done testing
humanity, but you have nothing to prove to me.  I *know* you,
Jean-Luc.  In the morning we'll argue and have all the pissing
contests you want."

"All the contests *I* want?" Picard protested, but it was mildly
spoken, and half-swallowed in a yawn.  His body relaxed, his
near-erection softening with it, and sleep was coming inexorably.  He
really was just too tired to deal with anything right now.  Dimly, he
felt Q's body shift into a more comfortable position, his arms tighten
slightly, and then he didn't feel much at all except peace and warmth.

He was somewhere, somewhere familiar...a cave, with fog swirling
around its entrance, and the sound of loud surf echoing nearby.  There
was a warm fire and the smell of the smoke mingled with the crisp
smell of the salty air.  It was cool, but although he was in his
pajamas he wasn't cold because he was leaning against someone.  This
someone had a broad chest, and his legs were stretched out to either
side of Jean-Luc's.  Jean-Luc felt safe, and comfortable, and he
leaned back into that warmth.  A mouth came down and teased his ear
gently, nipping at it with careful teeth.  The mouth moved on, down to
his neck, and he tilted his head to give it more access.  While it
carefully investigated every centimeter of the skin on his neck, a
pair of large hands began lazily running over Jean-Luc's chest.  "Q,"
he murmured, almost melting back against the entity,

"The one and only," that familiar, rich voice replied, and the warm
breath on Jean-Luc's neck made him relax even more.

"That was really you, all along, wasn't it?"  Here in this comfortable
dream place, it was easy to ask the question and easy not to tense up
in anticipation of the answer.

"'Fraid so, Jean-Luc."

"Mmmm...I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

"You had your reasons," Q replied as his hands got a little more
serious.  Jean-Luc gasped as fingers gently brushed across his nipples.

"Feels good," he said softly.  "But don't let me fuck you."

"Why not?"

"You said it earlier," Jean-Luc explained as he reached up and moved
Q's fingers back to his nipples.  He pressed hard enough for Q to get
the idea and then moaned in pleasure as Q began to exert just the
right amount of pressure.  *Of course it's the right amount, idiot,* a
part of his mind said, *you're dreaming.*  He ignored the voice and
spoke aloud:  "I don't want to have to make it up."

Suddenly, the comfortable feeling of the dream vanished.  Something
was forming in the fog at the mouth of the cave.  It loomed over both
of them, and Picard could almost feel the threat of it against his
skin.  "Jean-Luc," Q said urgently.

END OF PART TWO

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:17:16 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW TO Tell the Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 3/10
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:17:16 GMT
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To Tell the Q
3/10 disclaimers in 1/10


"Jean-Luc!"

"What?  Stop shaking me; I'm awake."

"You felt it, didn't you?"

"Q, that was just a nightmare.  I'm going to have quite a few; didn't
Troi warn you?"

"We don't have time for that.  Just listen to me and take me
seriously, because I'm very serious right now."

"I'm listening."  Picard was worried; Q looked frightened and that
couldn't be a good sign.  He concentrated intently on Q's words.

"You remember how I told you that I was going to get in trouble?"

"They've summoned you, and that was what we felt in the dream." 
Picard was sure of it.

"Right," Q replied as he looked at Picard wonderingly.  "Jean-Luc, do
you have any idea how...perfect you are?  How much I love you?"  He
shook his head impatiently.  "I interfered too much."

"The rescue?"

"Don't underestimate your people, Mon Capitaine; they managed that on
their own."

"The Nausicans."

"Yes, and..."  

Q looked up sharply, and Picard felt the air around him shift, as if
there were a storm headed their way.  "Get me dressed."

"What?"  Q stared at him.  "Look, we don't have..."

Picard interrupted urgently.  "Clothes, Q.  Now!"   When Q scowled at
the preemptory tone of voice, the captain added, "I'm calling in that
favor, Q.  When they put you on trial or give you a hearing, or
whatever it is that they're going to do, I want to be there to speak
on your behalf."

Q gaped at him, then recovered slightly.  "Jean-Luc, they're going to
be more than a little irritated with me.  It might not be safe for you
there."

"Damnit, Q.  Clothes!"

Q blinked, then simply leaned in and kissed him, hard.  The kiss was
almost brief and nothing beyond pressing their lips together.  But
then the man responded, wrapping an urgent hand around Q's neck, and
the entity whimpered just slightly, seeking to deepen the kiss. 
Picard opened his mouth and shuddered as Q's tongue entered him, then
thrust his own tongue inside the warmth Q offered, making his own
rather indistinct noise of pleasure.  The fingers of the hand around
Q's neck slid back towards his ear and lightly traced the curves
there, while Q's hand went to the open front of Jean-Luc's pajamas and
found his left nipple.  Just as in the dream, he applied the perfect
amount of pressure, and Picard moaned into Q's mouth and flushed with
warmth.

Groaning, Q pulled away and snapped his fingers.  Picard found himself
in his captain's uniform, clean and refreshed from his interrupted
sleep, even feeling as though he'd had breakfast.  If it weren't for
the beginnings of an erection, he'd have felt ready to walk onto the
bridge.

"You understand you'll only be able to perceive the Continuum through
a version of it geared towards your understanding?"

"Yes."  Picard was surprised, but he had actually managed to follow
that.

"I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe, but --"

"I thought you said we were in a hurry."

Q smiled, took a breath, and snapped his fingers.

A forum, with about a dozen men and women -- *Make that Q, Jean-Luc,*
the captain told himself -- dressed in various styles of conservative
clothing and seated in a sort of amphitheater.  To his surprise, Q
stayed in his Starfleet uniform.  Picard was also somewhat puzzled by
the number of empty chairs in the forum, wondering what it signified. 
Were the Q just beginning to gather?  Were some of the Q invisible? 
Was this some way of telling Q he wasn't important enough for a full
meeting?

However, Picard didn't wonder what the expressions on the Q's faces
meant.  They frowned at him, and then glared at Q.

"He's asked to speak on my behalf," Q told them defiantly. 
"Considering his involvement, I thought it only fair that he should be
included."

"You've brought another of your humans to the Continuum?"

"Only because your actions have made it necessary."

"Our actions?"

Down deep enough, he hoped, that the Q wouldn't sense it, Picard was a
little hurt.  Q had brought other humans here, before him.  He wasn't
as important to Q as he'd thought.

Picard shook the thought off.  This was hardly the time for petty
jealousies.  He decided against speaking without being properly
acknowledged first, but stood straight and kept his face solemn. 
Paying strict attention, he realized that some of the Q were less
upset by the whole thing than others.  In fact, half of them looked
quite bored.  Picard began to wonder if the seats weren't empty
because of a simple lack of interest by the Q.

"If you hadn't decided that Picard made some sort of ideal experiment
for your curiosity," Q was saying now, "I could have done as I liked
with him without your concern!"

"We all know what you want to do with him," a Q in a gray flannel suit
sneered.  "He's much more important as a representative of humanity
than as your human pet."

"Was is it with people?" Q complained.  "Jean-Luc Picard is nobody's
pet!"

"If you admire him as much as you claim," a dark-haired female Q said,
sitting primly in her seat in a dark red suit, "then you should have
left him to fend for himself.  You knew his people would be there soon
to rescue him."

"I knew the rescue was coming before he was questioned again," Q
objected.  "All I did was make his wait more comfortable."

"He was questioned twice after your interference."

"Considering that he would have been dead if I hadn't interfered, and
thus never questioned again, that hardly seems a logical objection!"

"You were told to keep away from him, Q."

"If I may interrupt?" Picard said, sensing that Q was making no
progress and tired of standing there like a coat rack.

Several haughty pairs of eyes looked at him, and anxiety radiated from
Q as though in visible waves.

"Since Q's interference kept me from death, and thus from ending any
observations whatsoever, perhaps you could still find your data useful
if you allow the parameters of your experiment to be changed by the
events."

A cool silence was his only response.  Picard plunged on:

"I resisted torture well enough to be killed.  That was the outcome of
your original research.  I was freezing to death when Q arrived.  What
you were then able to witness was my ability to continue in that
situation with his help."

"A Q's help wipes out all possible variables," the gray flannel Q
said.  "Of course you were able to continue."

"Excuse me?" Q snapped.  Picard could almost feel the air crackle
around the entity.  "First of all, he had, as he pointed out, resisted
to the point where any further observation was no longer necessary. 
Secondly," and here Q almost seemed to glow with anger, "the *whole*
experiment was a complete waste of time.  Weren't the Borg enough? 
And *if* the Borg weren't enough, the Cardassian certainly was!  As
hard as it was, I gave him *no* help whatsoever on either of those
occasions, and he did just fine."

"He was seconds away from breaking when the Cardassian had to let him
go," the red suited Q said dismissively.

"Yes, I was," Picard said mildly, causing a few of the bored Q to pay
closer attention.  "That's what human existence often comes down to. 
A second here, a minute there, our lives are measured out that way." 
He spread his hands.  "If you really want to learn about us, you have
to understand that."

"And you're dodging the issue," Q said to the female Q.  "We *know*
he's different, we know he's a survivor.  What was the point of this
last 'observation?'  You didn't learn anything new about him."

"We learned," the gray flannel suited Q said, "that you are willing to
break the rules for him."

"Bullshit!"  Picard turned to see Amanda striding into the
amphitheater.  Unlike the conservatively dressed Q, she was dressed a
swirl of vibrant blue fabric and her long blond hair hung loose down
her back.  "Hello, Captain Picard, Q," she said cheerfully, smiling at
them.  She turned back to the other Q.  "Is this a private witch
trial, or can anyone join in?"

"Anyone who has something *valid* to say is welcome in our
deliberations," the gray flannel Q said.

"Anyone who happens to know that this is occurring, that is," Amanda
shot back.  

Several more Q, all of them dressed comfortably and looking somehow
younger than the other Q, came into the amphitheater.  They looked at
Picard with a lively curiosity and at Q with a certain degree of awe. 
 Picard glanced at Q and noticed with amusement that his companion
looked a little embarrassed. 

"As I was saying," Amanda said, "it hardly took this sadistic little
'experiment' of yours to know that Q wouldn't do what you wanted him
to do, that he would break *your* rules.  And everyone here, except
Captain Picard, knows that the Q don't have rules, only traditions."

"Perhaps, my dear," the red suited Q drawled, "if you'd been raised
among the Q, you would understand."

"Gee," Amanda said, looking at Picard.  "Aren't you impressed with how
advanced we all are?"

Picard resisted the urge to laugh, although Q didn't.  "Amanda's
right," Q said, after he stopped chuckling.  "There was no reason to
test me, and no reason to observe Jean-Luc.  I have to wonder just why
some of you seem to be so afraid of us."  With that, he reached down
and took Picard's hand, and Picard, guessing that Q was making a
statement, twined his fingers together with Q's.  Although Picard had
meant it as a gesture of solidarity, he heard the quick little gasp
from Q.  When Q tightened his fingers, Picard felt a jolt of erotic
electricity through his whole hand, and he carefully smothered his
reaction.

"Don't be absurd," the gray suited Q said.  

"This whole thing is absurd," Q replied.  "I'll come and face the
whole Continuum, but I see no need for either myself or Jean-Luc to
listen to any of this.  We'll be leaving now."  He turned to Amanda.
"I'm glad to see you again; you look lovely.  We should talk soon. 
But not now; you understand?"

"Both of you have better things to do," she said and then looked at
Picard and blushed.  "I'm sorry, sir."

"That's all right," Picard replied. 

"Please, Q," the red suited Q drawled.  "Don't let us keep you from
your," her eyes raked Picard up and down, "little amusement.  What a
pity he's mortal, and fragile, and will die soon."

Q seemed to swell up with anger and power, and Picard moved before Q
could respond to the other Q's remarks.  "This," he stage whispered to
Q, "is the superior Q Continuum?  I've heard more subtle and
convincing insults from drunk Klingons."  

Q snickered, raised his hand, and they were back aboard the
Enterprise. Picard glanced quickly at his bedside table but it was the
same time it had been when they left.

"Politics," Q said flopping down on the bed. "I *hate* them."

"Come on," Picard said, glad to have something to do.  In the back of
his mind, he was aware of the tension of meeting the Continuum, and
how it had been laid down upon the unhealed tensions of his capture by
the Dominion.  But there was something that might relax those
tensions, something he didn't always like to do, but which seemed
appropriate now.  "One thing many humans agree on is that politics is
a thirsty business."

"What?" Q asked.

"A drink, Q, I'm offering you a drink.  We'll have some Calvados, talk
about what went on with the Continuum just now, and discuss that favor
I owe you."

An hour later, Picard was feeling much better, and he was willing to
bet that Q was as well.  

The entity was currently sprawled out over his sofa.  Picard himself
was in the comfortable chair next to it, and they both had their third
and half-drunk drink in their hands.  Both of them had also kicked off
their shoes.

"So you don't know," Picard was saying, "when they may be studying you
as much as me?"

"We've all been studying each other for millennia," Q drawled.  "And
frankly, we all find each other pretty damn boring."  A sad look came
to Q's eyes, and Jean-Luc focused on his words carefully.  "Boredom,
we've discovered, is the Q's enemy."

"Q?" the man asked gently.  "What is it?"

Q struggled to sit up a little straighter, then relaxed back with a
sigh and sipped at his drink.

*He looks so human right this minute.*

Q shrugged.  "Well, right this minute I am human, sort of."

Picard smiled, well aware that Q was trying to distract him.  "'Sort
of?'  That's the point, isn't it?"

"I think you're confusing me with a Changeling again, Jean-Luc," Q
teased, drawing forth a puzzled frown.  "We Q don't simply mimic a
form, 'becoming something to understand it.'  I really *am* human; I'm
just also a Q."  He smiled almost sleepily, and Picard was disturbed
to realize his heart was thudding slightly at the sight of it.  "I'm
drinking this lovely drink as a human would, tasting it as a human
would..."

"...digesting it as a human would?"  Picard's tone was wry.

Q sighed.  "I could see to it that you never digested your drink,
Jean-Luc.  Would that make you less human?  I mean, if it's important
to you that I use my excretory system, I suppose I could get used to
it."

Picard chuckled, the entire conversation striking him as quite silly. 
"'Willing to use the facilities.'  If that isn't love, what is?"

Q's eyes glowed with sudden warmth.  "Then you accept it?  You believe
that I love you?"

"I'm...getting used to the idea," Picard said softly, then frowned
with a fierceness that took Q by surprise.  

"What is it, Jean-Luc?"

"I don't want...Right this moment, I don't think...Q, if the favor
you're going to ask is sexual, I'm not ready for...I don't want to
be...to give you the wrong impression..."  He trailed off and stared
at his drink.

Q looked at that averted and somewhat miserable gaze and narrowed his
eyes, fighting down his own irritation as much as possible to be sure
he really knew what he wanted to do next.  Then he snapped his fingers.

Picard flinched, but all that happened was that their glasses now sat
on the side table.  He looked at the almost empty glasses, then turned
back to Q, to find that the entity had slithered off the sofa and was
now kneeling in front of him, his eyes on a level with the captain's.

Picard opened his mouth to ask Q what he was doing, and the entity
leaned in quickly to take advantage of it.  Instantly, the man felt
his body suffused with warmth.  Oh, he needed that heat, so badly he
would do anything for it, and opened his mouth wider, gently sucking
in Q's tongue and then sliding his own into Q.  He groaned into Q's
mouth as warm, strong arms wrapped around him, and felt that he was
drowning in comfort.

"Yes," Q groaned softly, speaking between those hot, deep kisses. 
"You need me.  You've needed me before, for moments, for things you
needed to do.  But now you just need *me,* don't you?"

"Yessss."

"And you want me to wrap my body around you and hold you close, don't
you?"

"Please.  *Please,* Q."

Q kissed a path down and along his neck, feeling Picard arch into him.
 "And so you'd let me do whatever I wanted to you, wouldn't you, if I
would just hold you close?"

Picard resisted, but the word came out anyway:  "Yes."

"Let me fuck you, suck my cock, go for something kinky, whatever I
asked, right?"

Picard tried to let go of Q, tried to keep from flushing in deep
discomfort, tried to get angry or make an ironic remark.  Instead, he
just said "Yes" again, very quietly.

"Well, guess what, Mon Capitaine.  I would too."  He chuckled
ruefully, moving into a more comfortable position that nevertheless
pressed his upper body tightly and firmly against Jean-Luc's.  "What
do you think I've been up to for the past few years, anyway?"

"I have no idea; you haven't been *here.*"  Picard tried to keep the
bitterness he felt from coloring his voice, but he couldn't help it. 
"I...missed you."

Q stared at him, eyes wide.  "Really?  I thought...I hated that whole
anomaly thing, and I felt terrible about dragging you into it.  It was
pointless; you've dealt with complicated temporal anomalies before. 
Hell, even when you were someone else, you managed just fine."

"Q," Picard pulled away from Q.  "What are you going on about?"

"Blather," Q said tiredly.  He let go of Picard and sat down on the
floor, reaching for his glass.   "That's me, the blathering comedian
of the Continuum."

"Really?  I thought they were laughing at me."  He looked at the glass
Q was trying to hand him.  "Getting me drunk won't work; I'll just
sing."

"Like you did when. . ."  Q abruptly got to his feet.  "I'm sorry. 
I've never been drunk before."

"Really?"

"Well, as a human.  Your hangovers are so nasty."

"One more reason you should put that glass down now," Picard said. 
The earlier intimacy had gone and while he missed it, he didn't know
how to ask for it.  "I don't need a hangover on top of everything else."

"Don't be obtuse, Jean-Luc.  I'm going to see to it that you never
have so much as a hangnail, let alone a hangover.  If you'll let me,
that is."

"Not a decision I want to make right now."  Picard reached for a
lighter tone.  "So when did you hear me sing while I was drunk?"

"It was when you and Robert..."  Q's face paled.  "I'm going to go
now.  All I can do tonight is to say the wrong thing."

"After the fight in the vineyard.  After the Borg."

"I hated him."  Q rose to his feet and walked over to the window. 
"Not because he was deliberately hurting you, well, not entirely
because of that, but because he was helping you and I couldn't."

"Q..."  Picard paused trying to figure out how to say this.  "I
*needed* it to be Robert in that time and that place."  He paused and
then suddenly realized that he'd given himself a perfect opening. 
"And I need it to be you, here, in this time and this place."  Q
looked up at him, his eyes oddly shy.  "Please," Picard began, and
then frowned.  "Why was it so easier for both of us when I didn't let
myself believe it was you?"

"You know the answer to that, Jean-Luc.  We're both too..."

"Talkative," Picard said firmly, standing up.  He reached for Q's
hand, and pulled the entity to his feet.

"That wasn't the word I had in mind."

"I know, but I'm in no mood to inspect our respective psyches."  Q
raised his hand, fingers poised to snap.  "Wait," Picard said.  Q
paused.  "Not the nightshirt and cap, please."

They were suddenly on the bed, Q wearing a pair of black silk full
length pajama pants and no shirt.  "That works," Picard said laughing
slightly. 

The laughter died as he realized that things were suddenly silent
between them.  Now that they were here in the bed and he didn't have
Troi and Crusher to deal with, or the Continuum to worry about, or the
comfort of distance and alcohol between himself and Q, Picard knew it
was a matter of minutes before some sort of reaction set in.  He'd
invited Q into his bed, and even though he'd said that he wasn't ready
for sex with the entity yet, a lifetime of sexual encounters and his
own sense of fairness had taught him that teasing like this was a
terribly cruel thing to do.  

"I said I wasn't ready," he said quietly, as the lights suddenly
faded, even the running lights, and there was nothing but the window
full of stars above them.  "But could you perhaps tell me what favor
you want?  I don't mean to make this difficult for you, but..."

"Shhh," Q said.  "I know exactly what to do.  I'll tell you, and
you'll listen and sleep on it."

Picard smiled into the darkness.  "Is this your idea of a bedtime
story, Q?"

"Hmm."  Q pulled the covers up to Picard's chin and kissed him on the
forehead, making him chuckle.  "Once upon a time, on board a ship
called the Enterprise, there was an incredibly brave starship captain
with a poet's heart, a philosopher's mind, a pirate's sense of
adventure, and a fabulously sexy body."

"I've already heard stories about Captain Kirk, Q."

Q stared at him.  Picard's lips twitched, and then they were both
laughing very hard.

"Behave!" Q said when he got his breath back.  "I'm talking about you,
idiot!"

"Oh! well then.  Carry on."

"Now, as I was saying, there was this gorgeous stud of a man who one
day got noticed by this incredibly smart, sexy and powerful entity."

Picard opened his mouth, then wisely closed it.

"This entity made a few pretty bad mistakes in dealing with this
gorgeous stud, mistakes from which it took him a while for him to
recover.  But with linear time and a lot of patience, he eventually
got on the good captain's good side.  In fact, one day it looked like
this powerful entity was going to get lucky."  He paused.

Picard sighed, but it was a cautiously happy noise.  "Looks that way."

Q kissed him a feather-light kiss.  "And so the captain agreed to help
the entity finish the story."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to wait until you're ready, and then I want you to tell me
the perfect place to make love."  Q smiled at his surprised
expression.  "I don't mean some place you once had a picnic, I mean
the *perfect* place.  I'm going to be disappointed if it doesn't
involve some sort of wildly egotistical pandering and something at
least a little kinky."

"I'm not into leather, Q," the man growled, plainly embarrassed.

"I know, and whips and chains aren't your style either.  But you and I
both know there are some things you've thought about and never asked
for."

Picard actually squirmed a bit.  "With reason, perhaps, Q."

Q was tempted to start listing things, then reigned himself in.  He
wanted Picard to tell him everything.  He wanted him to realize he
could tell him anything.

"Well, just remember that I'll know if you're holding back, Mon
Capitaine."

Picard grunted.  "So, that's it?  The favor is that I tell you my
ideal sexual fantasy?"

"Well, after you tell me I'm going to make it come true."

"Meaning?"

Q frowned at him.  "What do you mean, 'meaning?'"

"I mean, you're talking about your fucking me in some made-up
scenario, right?"

"Well, yes, though you won't know it's made up.  Neither will I, for
that matter.  And I'd like it if you would fuck me back, please.  In
fact, you can go first, if you like."

"We won't know it's made up?"

Q smiled happily.  "That's right.  So you see, you should imagine not
only the room and all that, but who you want to be."

"I want to make love to you as *me,* Q."

Q's face softened into an expression that made Picard's heart pound. 
"Then imagine yourself as you, but in a specific situation."

Picard frowned.  "If that's your favor, Q, then I'll do it.  I just
wish I understood it better.  Why surround ourselves with fantasy when
what we're going to be doing is so important?"

Q traced the lines of the man's face with the tip of his finger. 
"Because that's what it means to live as a Q.  When a Q is alone,
everything is a projection of that Q's desire.  The greatest intimacy
we have is to share desires, to create a world made up of two minds
instead of one.  My love, if you'll be as a Q with me, then I can be
as a human with you."

Picard shivered slightly.  "You're beginning to sound as though this
is going to be somewhat permanent, Q."

And the entity smiled again, deeply.  "Oh, Jean-Luc, I think I can
promise you that after you've been with me, you're not going to want
anyone else."

"If you were anyone else, I'd assume that you were bragging.  As it
is, that worries me a little."  

Q said nothing, obviously knowing that this was no time for a joke.  

"I don't want to feel...inadequate," Picard said softly.  "Here you
are, a Q, promising me that I'll never want anyone after you.  You
know and can fulfill all my fantasies.  I'm sure there are things you
can do to me with your powers that I haven't even thought of.   I have
no doubt that making love to you will be far better than it was with
anyone in my past."

"And that makes you nervous."  Q's voice was soft, and he reached out
tentatively for Jean-Luc.  Picard rolled slightly and let himself be
pulled into that comforting, warm embrace.

"Shouldn't it?" he said, speaking into Q's bare chest.  "What can I do?
What can I give you that...you couldn't get from another Q?"

"Would I be here with you if I wanted another Q?  Really, Jean-Luc, I
want you and only you.  I told you, you're more than a match for me,
and..."  He pulled Picard closer.  "This right here, this closeness,
this connection between us while I hold you, this not having to be
anyone but myself, it's all something I've never felt with any other
being, Q or otherwise."  He paused again and Picard felt lips brushing
the top of his head gently. "Right now, holding you, I feel
so...comfortable, but not bored.  I'm *never* bored with you Jean-Luc.
 I never will be."

"Well," Picard replied, tremendously reassured by Q's words, "I can't
imagine ever being bored with you."

"So stop hedging, Johnny, and tell me your fantasy."

END OF PART THREE







From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:21:11 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
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Subject: NEW: To Tell the Q 4/10 (TNG, P/Q) NC-17
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:21:11 GMT
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To Tell the Q
4/10 disclaimers in 1/10


Picard drew a blank.  It was like being at a buffet that was so
crowded with delicacies that one didn't know where to start.  It was
like logging into the Enterprise's computer and telling it you wanted
to listen to "some music."  What did he want?  What fantasy did he
have that Q could fulfill and still be Q?  Q had mentioned his dreams
and Picard now found himself wishing that his good dreams had the
staying power that his nightmares did.

Unaware of the fact that his penis was stirring slightly against Q's
thigh, Picard thought about his few encounters with other men.  It had
all been so tentative, and women had seemed far more compelling at the
time.  But now, he honestly couldn't imagine anyone more compelling
than the...man who was holding him.  So what did he want from Q?  His
mind threw out images, places where he would like to make love to Q. 
*Sintra in Portugal, where Moorish castles look almost ghostly in the
fog?  That resort on Pacifica where the rooms are underwater and the
flickerfish look like stars at night? A plain room somewhere, nowhere,
where it can be just us?  A wild shopping spree on Risa during the
Festival where we can buy tons of sex toys and fuck like mad minks on
the hotel balcony for all anyone would notice?  On the floor of a
Byzantine palace in 1103 after winning a desperate battle and I'm so
full of adrenaline and testosterone that I could go on for hours?   He
could seduce me on a dig in Egypt in the 1920s and we could make love
in the temple at Luxor.*  

"Q, this is impossible," Jean-Luc said.  "I keep coming up with things
that I want to do later, *after* the first time."

"'You're beginning to sound as though this is going to be somewhat
permanent, Q,'" Q quoted, mimicking Picard's accent.  Picard blushed. 
"Why not do any of those things for the first time?"

"Because..."  Picard paused.  "Seduce me, Q."

"I rather thought I was."

"Well, you are, but I want this to be new, a real first time without
the..."  He thought for a moment.  "Not *without* the past, but..." 
He paused to think again.  "All right, listen to this."

"Just a moment," Q said.  He moved until they were both a little more
comfortable.  Jean-Luc became aware the he was semi-erect at almost
the same moment Q's erection brushed against his leg.  

"I'm flattered," he said, laughing slightly.

"So am I," Q replied.  "Now what are you going to say?"

"Once upon a time," Picard began softly, "there was a starship
captain.  Although he had everything he'd ever thought he'd wanted out
of life, he felt isolated, and battered by fate."  He closed his eyes;
this was easier to say in complete  darkness.  "He'd done all the
things he'd had to do over the years and part of him knew that he'd
done them well.  But there was a part of him that sometimes wished
that life had been easier, that he hadn't had to see the things he'd
seen, lived through the things he lived through."  Q's arms again
tightened around him, but Picard kept talking, afraid to stop now. 
"He hated that feeling, for he'd been taught all his life that you
took what the Universe offered you and you dealt with it.  And you
never felt sorry for yourself, and you never did anything just so
people would adore you or love you or even like you.  And he...he so
wanted to be adored and to be loved."  He was silent for a moment,
blinking back the tears and the ache that burned in his chest because
of this confession.  Q was silent and Picard suddenly knew that the
entity was waiting breathlessly, sensing how difficult this was for
him. 

"Now that I know that you love me and have loved me and that I've
wanted you, I want to start again.  I trust you now Q, and I don't
want to lose that, but I want to meet you somewhere, anywhere, I'll
leave that up to you, and start this right.  I don't want to be put on
trial or studied, or tested.  I want you to prove to me that you love
me like you say you do.  Convince me that what I feel... that this
love that is growing inside me is justified.  Smooth-talk me into bed
with you and once you've done that...adore me.  You say you think I'm
gorgeous...you say you love me..."  He gulped.  "But I keep thinking
that you're talking about someone else.  Prove to me that I'm worthy
of being loved the way you say you love me."  

And just like that, he began to cry.  "It was so cold..." he managed
to say through the sobs.  "And I felt so...alone and
...worthless...being thrown out to die like that...and I thought about
my life...and it seemed...not  useless...but empty and cold...like the
cell..."

"Shhhh..." Q murmured gently.  He stroked Picard and his hands were
warm and gentle.  "I've got you, Jean-Luc.  I'll..."  His voice
thickened and dimly Jean-Luc wondered if Q were crying too.  "I'll do
everything just like you asked, but only when you're ready.  Now...now
I've got you in my arms and you won't be cold tonight."

"You...put me to sleep that night..."

"Yes."

"Could you..?"  And he was floating gently into sleep, but this time
he knew he wasn't dying, and it was so good, so perfect...

Q watched Picard sleep, smiling because it was so good to hold him
like this and watch him sleep, and because he was genuinely amused.

Picard's perfect sexual fantasy, of course, had had little to do with
sex...and everything to do with it.  It was quite simple, and it as
was complicated as the secrets of the universe.  It was delicious, and
if Q didn't do it right, it would all come crashing down in a rather
spectacular ka-boom.  It broke his heart and it made him hard as a rock.

Q shifted to move his erection away from the captain, and Picard
murmured something very softly and slightly below intelligible in his
sleep.

So, Picard wanted to be adored and seduced -- or seduced and adored,
actually, a much more telling order.  So many barriers to this man. 
If he had waited to have sex until he genuinely believed he was loved,
he'd still be a virgin.

Q had to keep himself from a sharp laugh.  Picard worried that he
wasn't up to some sort of "Q level," and yet Q knew no one, Q or
otherwise, who would have taken the offer of a perfect sexual
adventure -- a specific request for wildly egotistical pandering and
something at least a little kinky -- and immediately moved beyond it
to the reason not only for the sex, but for the fantasy.  Q loved him
with all the love a Q could generate, and the man wanted to feel that
love.  The fact that he got to feel it while being wildly fucked --
that was the captain's idea of the perfect sexual adventure.

So, Q thought, it was easy to see why Picard had left the actual
physical scenario up to him.  Picard was an explorer.  To him the most
special moments were created by surprise and discovery.

Picard wanted to be himself, so it needed to be a planet, a planet
where Q could meet him, a new planet Picard had never been to before,
and about which he would know little.  It shouldn't be a first contact
situation, since then Jean-Luc would be worried.  No, the planet
needed a long history of peaceful relations...

About an hour later Q had the particulars of the planet worked out and
began to work on the particulars of meeting Picard, smooth-talking him
into bed, and then -- Q realized he was skipping ahead a bit to this
part -- what they would do in bed.

Naturally, Picard hadn't actually told Q something kinky.  And
naturally, Q knew his kinks anyway.  The most important one, and the
most deeply buried, was Picard's desire to have sex in front of an
audience.  The "very private man" who kept everything inside longed
(though he was only dimly aware of it) to lose all control and come
and come while witnesses saw him lose that control -- saw him and did
not condemn him, saw him and were pleased by what they saw.  Q refined
the culture of this world to accommodate that and a few other little
things designed to please...

Q realized with surprise that several relative hours had passed while
he lied there with Picard in his arms.

*Oh, the things I'm going to do with you, my love.*

And as if in answer, Picard began to dream.

It began innocuously enough.  Picard was in a turbo-lift, holding a
letter addressed to himself in his hand.  The letter was heavy, and
Picard was terribly worried that he would drop it.

The red alert sounded, and the doors opened with a hiss to reveal
Hugh, the Borg.  Behind him shone a bright light that hurt Picard's
eyes, and he found he had dropped to his knees.  The Borg, which
wasn't Hugh any longer, just some soulless drone, moved forward and
kicked him, and though there wasn't any real pain in the dream, Picard
thought it exploded his bones.  Trying to scream, he curled around the
letter, protecting it with his body until the nightmare ended and
Picard, murmuring slightly again, sank back into deep sleep.

Q kept himself from shaking.  It wasn't much, as far as Picard's
nightmares could sometimes go, but it was still enough to make Q
remember the difficulties ahead of them.  

*I need to back off,* he thought.  *Now that we know what the other
wants, I need to let him get back into his routine, let him get
comfortable with himself again.  Only then can I work on getting him
to believe that his love won't hurt me, that he is good for me, that
he's not only all I want but all I need.*

With a wry smile, Q acknowledged that his pursuit of Picard had taught
him new things about patience, particularly human patience.  As much
as he had agonized over the man's dream, he was still hard, and human
erections had an urgency all their own.

Very quietly, staring into Picard's sleeping face, Q moved one of his
hands down to that erection and began to stroke gently.  It didn't
take much to let the sensation build.  Q looked at those strong
features, the dim starlight against that pale skin, along the outline
of his ear (Q really loved Picard's ears), and then, tired of teasing
himself, thought about pushing the cock in his hand inside Picard's
ass and came.  He was very quiet about it, letting out his breath as
the semen oozed between his fingers.  A moment later, he cleaned
himself off and returned his hand gently to the man's hip, watching
him sleep the rest of the night in peace.

Over the next few weeks, Picard moved back into his shipboard routine.
 He spent long hours talking to Troi about his time on the Dominion
station, and let her ask a lot of questions about Q.  He even answered
most of them, although he could tell she got tired of hearing, "I
don't know," or "I'm not sure yet," from him every time she asked
anything private about the entity.  At one point, when she was
particularly frustrated, he got creative and asked her how she felt
about Will Riker and if she expected anything to ever work out between
them.  

"Oh, no fair," Deanna had said, laughing and conceding the point.

Once Troi declared him fit for duty, he had to go over it all again,
this time while both Riker and Data asked questions and Troi carefully
monitored his emotional frame of mind.  "I still don't know exactly
what they wanted from me," Picard said after the third and last
debriefing session. "The questions were pointless and I couldn't help
assuming that Ayun was torturing me more out of a sense of routine
obligation than anything else."  Because he'd been forthcoming about
the involvement of Q, he added: "The only thing they really wanted to
do was kill me, and they would have managed to do so if it hadn't been
for Q."  

He'd left it at that, at least with his officers.  After explaining
his reasoning to Q, however, he had made out a brief, carefully worded
report to Starfleet on Q and the Continuum's involvement.  Written
out, and stripped of its emotional context, it looked pretty sparse. 
Still, he felt that it was important to have some sort of objective,
dispassionate account of the Continuum's concerns and the rift that
seemed to exist inside the Continuum. 

And then, that was that, at least on the professional front.  His
off-duty time was disconcerting at times.  The first few nights that
he'd come back to his quarters to find Q waiting for him, Picard found
himself worrying about his need for solitude.  He kept the worry to
himself; after all, it was fairly minor thing given his growing
feelings for Q.

Those feelings amazed him at times.  Forced by the circumstances to
look at the way he'd always felt about Q, it was easy to admit the
sexual fascination. The days when he'd hated the entity were gone,
although he knew at some point they would have to talk about the tests
Q had put him through.  Q's energy and his presence had always sparked
Picard's interest in one way or another, and the captain found it very
freeing to admit just how much of that fascination was sexual.  

What was even more amazing to Jean-Luc was the genuine liking and
affection he felt toward Q.  It didn't really hit home until a couple
of weeks after Picard had gone back on full duty.  He'd arrived at his
quarters that night to find a note from Q explaining that the entity
was in the middle of working on something and that he'd be back in an
hour or two.  Picard, who had been so worried about his privacy, now
felt at a bit of a loss.  There were a few minor things that had
happened during his day that he wanted to share with Q and he'd looked
forward to resuming their somewhat heated discussion of the events
that had led up to Earth's Third World War.  It was quite a shock to
Picard, and he wasn't sure that he liked missing Q, or the feeling
that his quarters seemed bigger, more sterile, and empty without Q's
presence.

Of course the privacy gave him a chance to do something he hadn't been
able to do with Q around.  Night after night of lying in Q's arms and
falling asleep surrounded by that unique warmth, knowing that they
were carefully working their way into becoming lovers, had been
lovely.  It had also been terribly frustrating.  And the dreams had
been worse, at least when it came to being frustrating.  Jean-Luc was
well aware that Q was sharing his dreams and he was pretty sure that Q
was shaping those dreams to a certain extent.  Picard should have been
angry at this breech of privacy, but he found this odd form of
foreplay too intoxicating to object to.  In the unreal world of
dreams, he could say things to Q that he couldn't manage in the cold
light of the waking world.  And yet, because Q was involved, he found
that he remembered every word spoken and every action taken in the
dreams.  He shied away from any serious lovemaking while dreaming,
which, while it made sense in the context of the relationship, left
him hard and frustrated in the mornings.

What made it even worse was that Picard was pretty sure that Q was
masturbating while Picard slept.  There was no evidence to back up his
assumption, it was just a feeling based on the slightly smug look on
Q's face in the morning.  Picard didn't ask about it, not sure what
kind of answer he hoped for, but it made him feel a little irritated. 
After all, he could hardly do the same.  

And so, knowing that Q wouldn't be back for a few hours, and missing
the entity more than he'd expected to, Jean-Luc decided that dinner
could wait until later.  After hastily stripping off his clothes and
climbing into bed the first thing that happened was that he started
laughing.  He felt like a first year cadet again, jumping into bed at
odd times and jerking off with one eye on the clock, dreading the
possibility that Cory, or, even worse, Marta would walk in on him.  

The memory, as amusing as it was, provided a scenario that had him
hard in seconds.  Sliding a lube-slicked hand down over his cock, he
closed his eyes, forced himself to take it slow and dropped into the
fantasy, imagining himself much as he was now, lying in bed, touching
himself and thinking of Q.

In the fantasy, the ship was orbiting close to a star and his bedroom
was bathed in strong warm golden light.  He was stroking himself and
thinking of Q, when there was a sudden flash of white light and Q was
standing by the bed.  "Please," the entity said, his voice curling
around Jean-Luc's body the same way the sunlight was, "don't stop.  I
want to watch you."

"Ohhh..." Picard moaned in both the fantasy and real life.  In the
fantasy, he locked eyes with Q as Q sat down next to the bed.   Almost
drowning in that dark brown gaze, he began to perform for his lover,
bringing his left hand up to his chest and toying with first one
nipple and then the other, while his right hand stroked his cock
lightly.  

"I'm watching you Jean-Luc, and it's so amazing," Q murmured.  "I
could watch you all day."

"I could...let you..." Picard gasped out.  " I've...never let...anyone
else..."

"Just for me," Q said happily.  "You're lying there, stroking that
luscious cock of yours and I'm watching you."

Picard couldn't help it now; his hand sped up as his urgency built up.
 Behind his closed eyes, he was totally immersed in his fantasy now:  
Q was sitting there watching him and he could feel the entity's eyes
caress his skin.  It was so good to share this private and intimate
act with someone who loved him and who loved his overwhelming passion,
a passion that sometimes frightened Jean-Luc.  Now it didn't and he
let it build, hot and sweet and rich until he couldn't stand it
anymore. 
Lost under the intent gaze of his lover, he firmed up his strokes,
feeling himself thrash on the bed as the climax he'd been courting
finally burst over him.  He yelled Q's name as he came, his body
arching with the force of the orgasm.  

When he'd come down and he opened his eyes, he was almost surprised
that the light wasn't golden and a little bereft as he realized that Q
was not sitting next to the bed.  Mostly, however, he was stunned. 
While he cleaned himself off, he couldn't help smiling foolishly.  If
just masturbating while thinking about Q provided him with such an
explosive release, what would it be like when they actually made love?
 As he headed to the shower, he had to shake his head.  At the thought
of making love to Q, a shiver of desire had run through him.  Given
the slightest encouragement, he would be seriously aroused again.

Halfway across the galaxy, Q was lying on a wide bed amidst a tangle
of sheets and pillows, moaning as he stroked his own erection. 
Picard's fantasy had hit him over the head like the proverbial ton of
bricks the moment Jean-Luc started touching himself and thinking of Q.
 Q knew that Picard valued his privacy, but resisting the siren song
of Jean-Luc's rising passion was impossible for the entity.  And the
fantasy was so perfect and dovetailed so much with Q's own fantasies,
that Q vowed to make it a reality someday.  He waited until Picard was
done, and then, on the bed he'd made specifically to coax Picard into,
he masturbated fast, furiously, and loudly, shouting Jean-Luc's name
at his climax, just as Jean-Luc had shouted his.

*I think,* Q thought a little shakily, after he was done, *that it's
about time to make that fantasy of his a reality.*  He smiled
languorously as he relaxed.  *If it doesn't happen soon, I'll take out
half this galaxy when I have my first orgasm with him.*  Thinking of
the strength of Jean-Luc's arousal and how it had called him from so
far away, he had to add:  *And if I don't, he will.*




*Captain's Log, supplemental.  I've just received an unusual addendum
to our official invitation from the Anoni Government.  It seems the
The Elected has also invited a member of a race rather cryptically
known as the Q.  I've searched Starfleet records, and found no mention
of such a species, but The Elected inform me that the Q are an
extremely powerful who are able to interact with others only by strict
adherence to a standard of behavior not unlike the Prime Directive.  I
must admit, as much as I was already looking forward to the reception
welcoming the Anoni into the Federation, my curiosity about the Q has
me quite anxious for the festivities to begin.*

Captain Picard walked onto his bridge with a quiet sense of
satisfaction and regarded his crew with well-concealed contentment. 
He was somehow feeling reflective today, thinking of his career
(outstanding), his life (varied and full of challenges), his friends
(invaluable), and his romantic situation (most disappointing and
frustrating, but he'd gotten used to it).

Troi, naturally, picked up on his mood, and smiled at him just
slightly, sharing in his good humor without really invading it.  He
appreciated her discretion, and walked to his chair with a nod at Riker.

"Looking forward to the reception, sir?" Will asked, leaning back in
his chair and crossing his legs at the ankles.

"It promises to be a somewhat more interesting occasion than one might
expect."  Briefly, he related The Elected's message about the Q.

"It does sound interesting," Riker agreed.

"Sir," Data said, turning from the ops panel.  "As the reception is to
begin in forty minutes..."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Data."  With a smile, Picard stood.  "All those invited
to the reception, which I believe..."   He looked about the bridge
almost playfully.  "...includes everyone here at the moment, need to
get their replacements in here and get ready to look honored and
delighted."

Reflecting their captain's good humor, the alpha shift summoned the
replacement personnel and went to the turbo-lifts.

Alone in his cabin, Picard found himself fiddling more than was
necessary with his dress uniform.  Giving up on it with a sigh, he met
his own eyes in the mirror and allowed himself to stare.

*My eyes are too small and my nose is too big.*  So many years of
thinking that had made the phrase routine.  His eyes fell to his body,
and with that he was somewhat more content, though he wished he were
perhaps just a bit taller.  

"Good Lord, listen to me," he said aloud in disgust.  "Fussing about
how I'll look at the ball.  My days of making a grand entrance while
the ladies swoon are long gone."

About half an hour later, his command staff met in Transporter Room
Three, all checking out each other's dress uniforms:  Captain Picard,
Commander Riker, Commander Troi, Dr. Crusher, Lieutenant Commander
Data, Lieutenant Commander LaForge.  They took their places on the pad
and the captain gave the order to energize, and then they were in the
middle of a party in full swing.

Grinning broadly, Riker grabbed Troi by the waist and promptly twirled
her out onto the crowded dance floor.  LaForge and Data were drawn
immediately to the inter-dimensional ice-sculptures.  Crusher was
recognized by an old friend who burst out of the crowd.

"Beverly!  My dear!  It's been ages!"

Picard watched them all go with smiles, sighed in contentment, and
began to survey the party.  The room -- the main consultation room of
the primary government building which held The Elected and her staff
-- was a vast arena currently filled with colored lights and music
which was both rousing and beautiful.  The arrangement of the
orchestra cleverly partitioned the room into dancing and non-dancing
sections.  Picard, standing in the beam-down area which faced the
tiered band, was offered an option between the two.  Enticing tables
laden with food and drink curved elegantly from the walls.  Enormous
chandeliers sparkled high overhead, the floor's hardwood shone beneath
the hundreds of dancing feet while lush carpets cushioned the floor
for those who were talking and milling about.  There seemed to be no
central meeting area or podium, which probably meant no speeches.  

Picard relaxed and thought about getting some wine.  Why couldn't more
receptions be like this?

"You can't be here alone," a warm voice drawled from behind him.

Picard turned casually, uncertain the comment was meant for him, and
confronted a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man wearing black pants, a
black, form-fitting shirt, and a sort of dark purple duster.  He held
a glass of red wine in his right hand, while his left hand rested
rather arrogantly on his hip.

*He's a Roman emperor!* Picard thought, looking at those full lips and
that strong nose. 

The man looked slightly apologetic.  "I should warn you, I'm
telepathic.  I have no intention of plundering your mind...though not
for want of interest, mind you...but I couldn't help overhearing that
comment."

"I'm sorry," Picard began, but the tall man shook his head with a
smile that managed to be both warm and wry at the same time.

"I'm flattered, actually.  I do hope you don't mean Nero or Caligula,
however."

Picard allowed his pleased surprise to show.  "You're familiar with
Earth history?"  Then a wry thought struck him.  "Or...I'm sorry, are
you human?"

"No, I'm from the Q Continuum.  And, please, tell me you're Captain
Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise."

Picard blinked in surprise.  "Yes, I am," he replied.  "And you're the
Q The Elected mentioned?"

"Yes.  It's rather confusing really, but we're all called 'Q.'"

"I see.  And no, I wasn't thinking of Nero or Caligula.  Perhaps Marcus
Aurelius or Hadrian without the beard.  One of the sane, competent
ones."

"Thank you." Q's warm gaze looked Picard over and the captain could feel
himself flush a little.  Q didn't leer or even look openly appreciative,
but, for a brief moment, Picard felt like a work of art being admired.
 It was an unusual feeling and he found himself liking it.  "I can
imagine you as any number of historical figures," Q drawled, "but I
don't have to.  You're already a historical figure."  As if guessing
that the praise was making Picard feel uncomfortable, Q gestured
toward the buffet tables.  "I haven't had a chance to scout out the
food; join me?"

"I'd be delighted," Picard said, meaning it.  Protocol demanded
nothing of him at this ceremony, except that he enjoy himself to the
fullest.  Not to do so would not insult the Anoni, who understood that
different people had different ways, but it would sadden them.  His
time on Anoni had given Picard a high regard for these people and he
was in awe of their cultural achievements.  To enjoy himself at a
party was an easy compliment to pay, particularly when he could do so
in the company of someone as intriguing as Q.

"The Elected did not tell me the Q looked human," Picard said, making
it only the most casual of inquiries.  The Anoni themselves were
somewhat humanoid, though their elbows and knees rotated as well as
their shoulders and hips, and instead of noses they had mouths with a
light pink flap which allowed them to breathe and eat at the same
time.  When they talked, they made a light *flip-flip-flip-ing* noise
that Picard found interesting and privately a little amusing.  He
could only imagine how humans seemed to the Anoni.

Q looked slightly uncertain of how his answer would be received.  "The
Q don't look like anyone else, actually.  When we travel outside the
Continuum, we assume the shape of those we're visiting to avoid
confusion."

"Oh."  Picard thought a moment, looking over the buffet table they had
reached.  "So The Elected saw you as an Anoni?"

"Well...no, actually.  I've been in human form for a while now."

Picard smiled, uncertain why this information pleased him so much. 
"Why?"

Q didn't answer and Picard looked at his face to find an odd sort of
smile on it.  It almost made his toes curl, and when Q spoke, the man
seemed to feel his voice with a sensation similar to running his
fingertips over dark brown velvet.

"Well, if you want to know the truth, I was rather hoping I'd run into
you."

Picard couldn't help staring at him just a bit.  Q shrugged and
casually reached for a twisted green thing on the table.  "We Q get
around, and I've heard quite a bit about you."  His warm eyes flicked
up to meet the captain's.  "I wanted to meet the man who has sparked
such interesting dinner conversation."

It was almost too much for Picard, and if he had actually blushed as
deeply as he feared he was going to, he might have made his excuses
and rushed into the crowd.  But then Q looked at the green twisty
thing in his hand and chuckled.  "Do you know, this is supposed to be
cole slaw?"

The captain blinked.  "Are you sure?"

Q nodded, still looking over the thing in his hand.  "The Anoni chef
in charge of the vegetables misread the directions.  The strange thing
is, it isn't bad."  With an overt deliberateness, Q put the green
twisty thing in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed it, his eyes on
Picard on the whole time.

Picard realized his heart was beating a little harder than it should
as he reached for some "cole slaw" himself and tried a small piece. 
It tasted like a sweet version of celery, and he wondered if he had
ever concentrated so fiercely on a piece of food in his life.

Feeling quite ridiculous, the captain listened a little harder to the
music and turned away from the table to look for Dr. Crusher on the
dance floor.  He saw her twirling expertly with her old friend,
smiling easily and having a good time.

There was the faintest touch of warm breath in his ear.  "She really
knows how to cut a rug."

"Yes, she's quite skilled."  Picard winced and tried something else. 
"She's not usually so adventurous so quickly.  Everyone seems to have
caught the spirit of the celebration."  He turned to look at Q with an
ambassador's smile.  "There's nothing that means as much to the
Federation as the welcoming of a new member."

END PART FOUR

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Subject: NEW: To Tell the Q 5/10 (TNG, P/Q)
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Q looked at him, seeming quite pleased.  "You have an extraordinary
voice, Captain Picard.  Or may I call you Jean-Luc?"

"Oh," Picard replied, feeling a little foolish, "I'd like that."  He
felt a warm electric feeling roll over his skin at Q's flirting. 
While it wasn't comfortable to know that he had caught the mysterious
entity's attention, it wasn't precisely uncomfortable either.  "I feel
that you have me at the advantage, Q."  He suddenly smiled at Q and
wondered why Q's eyes widened.  "May I call you Q?"

"Be my guest," Q replied.  He laughed and shook his head.  "Why do I
have the feeling that any advantage I have won't last long?"   He
looked down at the buffet table.  "Where to begin?"

"With whatever looks good," Picard replied, looking at Q's hands as he
spoke.  The entity had large, long-fingered hands, and Picard couldn't
help wondering what it would feel like to have one of those hands
touching him.  Anywhere.  "At least that's the way I usually go about
things like this."  

"Really?" Q asked.  His voice, while teasing, made Picard feel more
that Q was sharing an inside joke with him than laughing *at* him. 
"So many
choices," Q murmured, his gaze sliding over Picard lightly before he
turned and picked up a plate.

A short time later, Q and Picard sat at a table that was on a low airy
gallery overlooking the party.  "I love the Anoni," Q said after an
Anoni waiter had brought up the rest of their choices from the bar and
buffet.  "There's no difference between a formal or informal event
with them.  The only thing that defines a festive gathering like this
is the number of people involved."

"I was surprised at how much of their population is employed in the
entertainment industry.  The Elected was very curious about how the
Federation handles large gatherings."  Picard paused to eat another
piece of pickled shellfish.  "I have a feeling that the Anoni will add
a lot to our diplomatic reputation."  He rolled his eyes.  "It
certainly would be refreshing; I can't remember ever being this
comfortable at a reception in my life."

As they ate, and drank a very good wine that somehow managed to
complement the extremely varied food without either overpowering it or
being lost in all the flavors, Q asked questions about Picard's career
as a diplomat and explorer.  In-between answering Q's questions,
Picard drew the entity out, asking about the Continuum and Q's own
explorations.  He discovered that Q was a good listener, who
nonetheless refused to let Picard dominate the conversation.  He was
also a good storyteller, and Jean-Luc discovered that he and Q had
been to and liked some of the same places.  

The flirtation begun by Q underscored the meandering conversation,
although it did not dominate it.  Picard, once he got over the idea
that he was being admired, had no trouble flirting back.  It was easy:
 in addition to being very attractive (Picard's gaze kept being drawn
back to that expressive face with its dark eyes and mobile mouth), Q
was interesting, well-spoken, forthright, had a wickedly sardonic
sense of humor and seemed, somehow, to be very sensual.  Those were
all qualities that Picard looked for in potential lovers.   And he was
thinking of Q as a potential lover, in spite of the entity's apparent
male gender.  

Picard, of course, worried a little about that.  While he'd had
experiences with male lovers, those experiences had been rather
limited and were in the distant past. The captain feared that his lack
of knowledge of what men did together would disappoint both his
partner and himself.  And yet, when he thought about what he knew men
did together, he felt a lovely pleasant burn wash through him, leaving
him grateful that he was both sitting down and wearing a dress
uniform.  What would it be like, he wondered, to take Q in his mouth,
licking and sucking the entity's penis while those large hands stroked
him and that expressive voice moaned in pleasure?  He was suddenly
amused to realize that he'd noticed that Q did indeed have a penis at
one point when Q had gotten up to get them another decanter of wine. 
The cut of Q's pants  had assured Picard that Q was as human as he
looked, and the captain couldn't help wondering what it would be like
to be made love to by this fascinating, powerful entity.

Always assuming, of course, that Q's flirting wasn't just a diversion
for the alien, or that he didn't mean it the way another human would. 
That worry would have nagged at Picard more, if Q's appreciation for
his company hadn't been both obvious and so *real.*  There had been a
couple of times during the conversation when Q had been talking about
the Continuum that the entity had seemed distant, not from the
conversation and Picard, but from thoughts of his own kind.  He'd
listened with an almost wistful air as Picard spoke about his officers
and there had been other moments of vulnerability that seemed as real
as the flirting and the discussions of things they'd seen and places
they'd been.

Picard realized that he'd responded to Q's vulnerability by revealing
more about himself than he usually did.  Instead of bothering the
captain, it made him like his companion even more.  Picard knew
himself well enough to know that meeting anyone with whom he felt
comfortable enough to open up to like this was such a rare event that
it deserved to be treasured and savored.  And it was so easy to savor
Q's presence, and so easy to let the evening ramble without any
schedule or agenda, that Picard felt far more intoxicated by his own
enjoyment of Q's definite interest in him than by the superb wine.

So relaxed and content was he that when Picard spotted Data and
LaForge approaching him, he felt somewhat disappointed.  Even after so
many hours of talking to Q and listening to the music, he was not by
any means ready to return to the ship, and had to rely on his
captain's discipline to welcome them both with a smile.

"Q, this is Lieutenant Commander Data and Lieutenant Commander Geordi
LaForge.  Gentlemen, this is Q."

"The Anoni speak highly of you, sir," Data remarked in a friendly
fashion.

"And they say you've spoken highly of the Federation," LeForge added. 
"It seems we have you to thank for some of the warmth of the Anoni's
welcome."

Picard smiled at Q with pleasure while the entity shrugged.  "I said
nothing I don't feel is the truth."

"Sir," Data said, addressing his captain, "the Anoni have requested
that we remain on the planet for the duration of the festivities."

Picard's eyebrows raised.  That meant at least a week's stay.

"I see no reason not to accommodate them," he replied evenly, not
bothering to force himself to analyze why he didn't mind staying (but
knowing well enough anyway).  "As long as they've offered us rooms in
which to sleep."

"Oh, they have, sir," LeForge said with a shake of his head.  "Just
wait till you see them."

"Sounds intriguing.  You should tell the others.  Last I saw Beverly
was on the dance floor, but I've no idea where Deanna and Will have
gotten to."

"The Counselor and Commander Riker are touring the starwalk," Data
said.  LaForge was scanning the dance floor.

"That sounds interesting," Picard commented.

"It's quite lovely, actually," Q said almost absently, picking a small
piece of white lint from his shoulder and frowning at it.  "I've
walked it several times."

"So often you've gotten tired of it?" Picard asked, careful to keep
the teasing note out of his voice while his officers were in earshot.

Not raising his head, and thus keeping his face turned away from
Picard's officers, Q smiled at Picard, then cleared his face and stood.

"Not at all," Q said.  "There are probably many on the path at this
hour.  We might even run into your officers."

Picard smiled congenially and stood up as well.  Data and LaForge
exchanged nods with him and then he moved off with Q towards an alcove
along the far wall.

"Do you really think we'll run into Riker and Troi?" he asked Q quietly.

"Only if we're careless," Q responded at the same volume.

The starwalk lived up to its name, giving Picard the impression that
he was somehow walking through outer space.  The path, which Q told
him twisted for many miles, was a strip of soft ground twining through
a flat pool of water which seemed to stretch to the horizon.  The
stars overhead were reflected at their feet and then on out on all
sides until they seemed to merge with those of the sky.  It was as
quiet as a meditation, and yet seemed to welcome the soft footfalls of
the captain and his intriguing companion.

After a time, they came upon a sort of railed-off space which seemed
to beg them to pause and contemplate the twinkling display, and so
they did, leaning against the railing and looking around them with
quiet delectation.

And then Picard realized that Q was standing very close to him.

"Have you grown tired yet of people telling you how attractive you
are?" that incredible voice asked from right above his ear.

*He's going to kiss me.*

"You bet I am."

Q had been doing that all night, reading and responding to Picard's
surface thoughts.  Normally the captain would have been dismayed, but
once he'd realized that Q wasn't going beneath the surface or digging
around at all, Picard had relaxed.  Now, he turned his head and looked
up at Q.  "Attractive?" he couldn't help asking.  "Are you sure that's
the right word?"

Q just smiled.  "You're right," he replied, leaning his head down
until he was very close.  "'Attractive' is much too mild a word.  How
about," and he leaned closer and brushed his lips swiftly across
Picard's mouth,
"'stunning?'"  He moved in for another feather-light kiss.  "Or maybe
'gorgeous?'"  Another kiss, this one slightly more lingering, and when Q
pulled back, he spoke again.  "I should be bluntly honest, Jean-Luc;
when I first saw you, I forgot to breathe for a few moments.  So
perhaps the word should be ''breathtaking.'" 

The light kisses had left Jean-Luc wanting more and Q's search for the
right word was making his face heat up.  So, partly to get a more
serious kiss and partly to stop the litany of how attractive (or
whatever) he was, Picard reached up and captured the back of Q's head.
 Q smiled and closed his eyes in anticipation as their mouths met. 
Picard was willing to stand there all night in kissing Q and so he let
the intensity of the kiss build slowly, first nibbling Q's lips with
his own and then, when Q's mouth twisted against his, opening his mouth.

Things quickly heated up after that, and they soon moved past the
cautious exploration of each other's mouths.   Picard vaguely realized
that kissing Q was like talking to him; the entity neither dominated
nor allowed Picard complete control over the situation.  Instead, they
seemed to be able to read the other in some way that had nothing to do
with telepathy, and the kiss went on and on.  It was perfection, and
while part of Picard couldn't believe that he was standing in this
public place, in uniform, technically on duty, kissing someone like
this, most of him reveled in the way it felt to be here.  At some
point Q had wrapped his arms around Jean-Luc, and the captain felt
enveloped in the entity.  Because it was dark and he was not only
wrapped up in Q but in Q's purple coat as well, Picard eagerly
responded when Q pressed close and soon they were moving against one
another and it was as perfect as the kiss.

When, by seemingly mutual consent, they broke from the kiss, Picard
leaned his head against Q's shoulder and chuckled.  "I can think of
any number of reasons why we shouldn't have done that, and none of
them seems at all valid."

"Good," Q replied.  "So any number of reasons that we shouldn't drag
each other to the nearest bed and do some more kissing and then make
love to each other until the sun comes up are all invalid as well?" 
Picard was silent, his intense desire for Q battling with his duty. 
"We can arrange to leave notes for your officers," Q added.  "I don't
want you to feel that you're neglecting your duty to be with me."

Somehow, the fact that Q was concerned about his comfort made the
decision easy for Jean-Luc.  "I don't want to have to try to track
them down in the middle of the festivities," he said.  "So that sounds
like a perfect plan.  Who knows?  Some of them may be having private
moments of their own and I'd hate to interrupt."  

And so it was that, in surprising short order, they found themselves
in the rooms assigned to Picard.

The ambassador in Picard ordered him to appreciate the rooms, but the
part of Picard that wanted to jump Q's body as soon as possible was
much louder and more urgent.

He had a vague impression of soft lines, warm color, a lot of indirect
lighting, and antique-like furniture.  Primarily he noticed that it
was a long walk to the bed, especially as he took it backwards,
kissing Q's lips, stroking his sides, working his hands under that
purple duster and pushing it off those high shoulders to sweep to the
floor.

Q, meanwhile, was working off the tunic of Picard's dress uniform. 
Since the man didn't want to let him go long enough to help, it got
somewhat complicated, but Q persisted and eventually the tunic fell to
the carpet at the foot of the bed.

The frenzy to disrobe did hit a pause, however, when Picard caught
sight of the bed.  The sheets were a smooth golden expanse, and the
headboard was a sunburst.  It looked like something from a Carolinian
Masque, an artful theatrical device to support pure ecstasy, and for a
moment Picard considered asking Q if he wouldn't mind making love on
the sofa.

But then when he looked up into those dark eyes currently staring at
him with lust and adoration, the bed seemed perfect.  Where else could
he want to be with this "man" but here?  This world, this bed, Q's
arms:  everything was perfect.

Q smiled and looked coy.  "You seem awfully certain you're going to
get me into that thing."

Picard worked at a clever reply, his eyes going back to the bed, and
then couldn't think of anything at all but the feel of Q's mouth on
his neck right below his ear.

*What are you doing to me?*

For a response Q smoothed his hand down the front of Picard's tank
top, lightly moving over the material which covered his nipples, and
then to the front of his pants, caressing the bulge the man's erection
made and getting Picard to groan.  Q was nibbling down his neck now,
bending over the shorter body, and Picard had to twist a bit to grab
the bottom of Q's shirt and raise it up.  The entity's skin underneath
was smooth and warm to the touch, and his fingers found the aligned
ridges of his backbone, trailing them in gentle touches before pushing
downward under Q's pants to cup his backside and pull him in close.

"Ughhh," Q said, shuddering.  "You're making it hard for me to patient."

A thought flashed insistently through Picard's mind even as he
muttered, "I'd rather you weren't."

But Q pulled back. looking down at him, and Picard made himself
connect with that gaze.

"You haven't done this before," Q asked, "with a man?"

Forcing himself not to bite his lip, Picard shook his head.  "Not
so...completely."

Q's gaze became infinitely tender.  "Well, if it makes you feel any
better, I haven't exactly done this with a 'man' before, either."

"Really?" 

"Really," Q replied solemnly.  Then he grinned and bent to drop
another feather-light kiss on Jean-Luc's lips.  "But I'm a quick
study."  

They kissed again, and then more, hard urgent kisses that left each of
them panting.  Picard's hands moved to the fastenings on Q's pants and
Q started tugging at the captain's tank top and suddenly they were
tangled up in each other so much that Q lost his balance and they fell
on the bed.  Picard looked into Q's face to see his own rueful chagrin
mirrored there and suddenly he was laughing.  Then Q was laughing, and
Picard felt something that was very deep and very far away ease inside
him and his laughter changed, revealing the surge of inner joy that
washed over him.  After a moment he opened his eyes and saw Q looking
at him in wonder.  

"You're so bright," Q murmured.  Picard raised his eyebrows in
question, and the entity smiled.  "Your...aura, you humans call it,
the energy that surrounds you.  No wonder the Anoni think so highly of
you."

"They can see auras?"

"Some of the priesthood can."  Q looked down at Picard with a warm
expression.  "You're endlessly curious, aren't you?"

Picard shrugged almost apologetically.  "I always have been."

"Please," Q said earnestly, "don't hide it or apologize for it.  It's
part of what makes you so fascinating."

Picard blushed slightly, and Q chuckled.  Without saying anything, he
bent his head and began kissing Jean-Luc again, his hands running over
the captain's body.  Picard kissed back, although he was content to
let Q touch for now.  "So beautiful," Q murmured, lifting his head to
look at Picard as he pulled the tank top off him.  "How does you crew
keep their minds on their work?"

"Really, Q," Picard began.  Then Q was tugging gently at his nipples,
and any objection Picard was going to make vanished the rush of  heat
that washed from his chest straight to his cock.  He moaned, and Q's
face lit up.

"Oh, I want to hear more of *that,*" Q said, his eyes wide with
amazement.  As his hands moved toward the fastening of Jean-Luc's
pants, he bent his head to nibble at the man's neck. 

Another powerful rush of arousal moved over Picard and he moaned more
loudly.  Q, he realized, had meant what he'd said:  hearing Jean-Luc
respond was arousing the entity.  *Not that it matters,* Picard
thought, *everything that Q's doing feels so good that moaning is
probably going to be the least of my responses.*

"I hope so," Q said softly.  He finally managed to wrestle Picard's
pants and briefs off and was now sitting quite still, looking at
Jean-Luc's cock.  "I know you don't want to hear the word
'beautiful,'" Q said, almost reverently, "but you have a lovely cock."

"For all I know," Picard said, suddenly sitting up, "you do too."  He
was soon removing Q's shirt, but paused for quite a while to explore
the entity's broad chest.  Q's nipples were outrageously sensitive,
and Picard discovered that Q's non-verbal voice was just as expressive
and intoxicating as his verbal voice.  And yes, he wanted to hear more
of it.

Soon Jean-Luc had Q naked, and he smiled at the entity.  "I was
right," he said, chuckling, "it is gorgeous."  Q grinned at him,
obviously more adept at taking compliments than Picard was, and
Jean-Luc shook his head.  "You know," the captain said, almost
conversationally, maneuvering himself until he was between Q's
outstretched legs,  "there are things I do remember, even if it were a
while ago." 

Matching actions to words, Jean-Luc bent over and began slowly licking
his way around Q's straining erection. Hoping that Q liked what he
himself liked, Picard kept himself from rushing this.  He wanted to
make Q feel as much as he possibly could before he came, and so he
spent a lot of time using his tongue and lips on that silky skin.  It
wasn't just for Q's pleasure, though, he realized.  He found himself
remembering that he'd always liked doing this, liked the careful
precision of it, and the almost immediate feedback when you did the
right thing or found the right spot.  If Q's moans and cries were any
gauge, he found the right spot fairly often and the captain was
surprised to discover that part of his mind was carefully trying to
remember the places that brought out the most response.  

Finally, when Q was trembling and clutching the golden bedding between
his fists, Picard lightly kissed his way up the hard shaft and then
paused for a moment.  Q whimpered and raised his hips pleadingly and
Picard moved his mouth down over the length of Q's cock, sucking hard
as he did.  Q let out a yell and seemed to keep himself from bucking
his hips with the greatest of difficulty.  Picard moved enough to be
able to grab Q's hips and the entity relaxed against the pressure of
Jean-Luc's hands.  Picard was careful as he moved his head up and down
in a steady rhythm, making sure that he didn't scrape that sensitive
flesh with his teeth and using his tongue as much as he could to
heighten Q's enjoyment.  

"I...ohhhh...Jean-Luc...I'm going..."

Warned, and not even thinking of pulling away, Picard caressed the
hips he'd been holding and almost let Q's erection escape his mouth. 
Everything seemed frozen there for just a moment, as Q cried out in
frustration and Picard shivered in anticipation.  Then, sucking hard
as he did, Jean-Luc moved his mouth swiftly down, all the way down
until he'd taken the full length of Q's erection inside.  Q yelled his
name and came, bucking his hips and almost sobbing as he filled
Picard's mouth with semen, and the captain swallowed eagerly.

When the last of the aftershocks were over and Picard gently released
the spent penis with a soft kiss, Q reached down and tugged at
Picard's arm. "Up here, please," he murmured.  

"Of course," Picard replied, moving up the length of Q's body to end
up in the entity's arms.  "You want to know what you taste like?" he
asked, and Q eagerly opened his mouth for a deep kiss.

"'Even if it were a while ago,'" the entity quoted after the kiss.  He
pulled Jean-Luc close.  "If you'd remembered any more I might have
spontaneously combusted."  Picard laughed delightedly, enjoying the
feeling of having his skills praised.  "You have a lovely, delightful,
*wicked,* mouth, Captain Picard," the entity continued, "and here I
thought I liked it because you're an incredible kisser." 

Picard's face clouded.  "Then this is as enjoyable for you as it...? 
I mean...I realize..."  He frowned and stared at Q's shoulder.

"Tsk, tsk," Q said softly, a tender smile curling the lips Picard was
beginning to find unbearably sensual.  "I have the universe to choose
from, and I'm right where I want to be, doing what I most want to be
doing.  I find it difficult to believe you don't realize what a prize
you are.  It's as if I've found some extraordinary wonder that had
been put away in the cupboard.  I have to fight my instinct to grab
you and stick you somewhere you'll be safe from thieves."

"Are Qs in the habit of stealing from each other?" Picard asked
playfully, finding the compliment easier to take when it was expressed
so ridiculously.  He burrowed into Q slightly, soothed by the warmth
of the entity's body, enjoying the feeling of that warmth against his
erection.  He considered asking Q if he could come that way: 
thrusting against that lovely skin and coming against that warmth.

"Yes," Q replied, and though his tone was light enough, Picard sensed
something sad underneath.  "Actually, we Q have a habit of trying to
rain on each other's parades.  Spite, I suppose, and envy.  We can go
so long without having anything *worth* having, and so when one of us
gets lucky the rest of us can sometimes respond with great gnashing of
teeth.  I try to stay away from the whole thing as much as I can, but,
well, they are family."

Picard tried hard to imagine it:  entities living for eternity,
growing bored with what they could find in the universe, growing petty
with countless eons and still being so much more than Picard himself
was --

"No, no," Q said, in-between nibbling lightly at Picard's ears and
making his body thrill with almost electric shocks of pleasure.  "The
Q aren't 'more than' you.  Just different."

"Different...how?" Picard got out, aware that he was quite possibly
going to come just from feeling those little bites.  Q's thigh was
moving with the entity's efforts, rubbing Picard's erection just
enough to let him feel it, and the embrace of those arms seemed to be
suffusing him with heat.  He moaned softly and felt Q shiver.

"Well, there are no Q with your beauty and your voice and your energy.
 I can't wait to watch and feel you come, and yet the anticipation is
more pleasure than I've gotten from watching galaxies form."

Picard's next moan was louder as he thought of what it would be like
to come while those dark eyes watched him.  And as if in answer, Q
pulled slightly away from him.  It was almost as if he could feel the
touch of that gaze, and he dimly felt the desire to perform somehow
for Q, to touch himself or do a dance.  He flinched from the idea,
automatically rejecting it as both absurd and unseemly, chalking it up
as simply a random thought.  Perhaps, though, he could get Q to take
him in his hand.

And perhaps once again Q was reading his mind, for the entity's large
warm hands moved down his body, caressing gently his stomach and then
the inside of his thighs, and then, finally, moved in to stroke his
erection, so hard it was aching and easily coated in his dripping
precum.

No, Picard rather foggily realized.  That lubrication wasn't all
coming from him.  Q was adding in warm oil from someplace.  He
wondered where...until he remembered the powers his partner was
supposed to have.  It was rather odd, having someone "magical" making
love with him.  The oil was perfect, however, and he suddenly relaxed
whatever resistance he might have had.  What was the point of having
reservations when everything felt so incredible?  Picard was currently
lying on his back, and he stretched out his arms and legs slightly,
encouraging Q to continue, hopefully to fall into a rhythm.  It
wouldn't take much.

But instead, Q finished working the oil all over his cock, stilled his
hand, and then looked into his eyes breathlessly.  Picard sustained
the gaze for a long moment before he guessed at what Q might be asking
for.

"Ohhh," Picard groaned, thrusting into that hand with the thought of it.

"Is that a yes?" Q's voice asked, caressing him lightly.

"Are you sure?" Picard asked, voice hoarse with wanting.

"Don't you want to?"

"More than anything," the man answered honestly, unable to believe Q
could offer him this.  He thought then of being inside the creature
he'd spent so many hours talking to, listening to that voice, engaging
that mind, delighting in the humor and insight and intelligence and
surprise that was all Q and no one else.  He thought of seeing Q react
to the feel of his cock inside his ass and what he said became truer
still:  more than anything else in the universe, he wanted to fuck Q.

Reluctantly, Q let him go and, with a smile and a shiver, rolled over
onto his stomach.  Picard couldn't help lying there a moment simply
looking at him, thinking about the trust Q was showing him.

*Of course,* Picard thought to steady himself, *if I don't do this
right he might just turn me into a frog.*

"It's not a test, Jean-Luc," Q said quietly, sighing in pleasure as
the captain's hands touched his back.

"I don't...like the idea of hurting you, or not giving you what you
want from this."

"I'll tell you if anything hurts, and if you come inside me I'll have
what I want."

"Oh, God, Q," Picard moaned, overcome by the sensation of his thoughts
as he moved to cover Q's body with his own.  For just a moment it was
almost too much just to touch him, and yet there was his own erection
pressing into Q's backside, and here were his hands running up and
down Q's sides.  Now he was kissing the back of Q's neck, and his
hands were moving down and to the center of the lovely ass he wanted
so desperately to be inside.

"Tell me what you're going to do to me," Q groaned as he felt Picard's
fingers moving into his cleft.

"I'm going to take you," Picard, shocked at the almost menacing tone
of his own voice.  "I'm going to bury myself inside you and do
everything I can to make you feel as good as I'm going to feel."


Any worry Jean-Luc had that his words had been too rough was eased by
the way Q moaned and arched his back.  Picard's fingers were suddenly
slippery with more of that warm oil and poised to go inside Q's ass. 
*Slowly,* Picard told himself.  *Gently.*  He slid one finger
carefully into that tight opening, and listened as Q moaned.  It was
obviously a "please do more" sort of moan and not a "that hurts" sort
of moan, and so Picard began carefully to tease Q.  He wasn't sure
that he would be able to do any more than that without hurting Q and
he had no desire to hurt Q.

"You'll be...able to ...fuck me...Jean-Luc," the entity gasped.

Picard moaned faintly at the sound of Q's voice saying the words,
"fuck me."  Easing another finger inside Q, he noticed that the tight
ring of muscle was relaxing and that even more lubrication coated his
fingers.  "How convenient," he murmured, smiling.
"You know...I can...ohhhh...hear your...smile...oh yes!"  As Q spoke,
Jean-Luc had gotten another finger inside him and now the entity
pushed back against Picard's hand.  "I want...*you*...your cock...not
just...your fingers..."

END OF PART FIVE

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:27:10 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW TO Tell the Q (TNG P/Q NC-17) 6/10
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:27:10 GMT
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As Picard moved into position, he paused for a moment and looked down
at Q.  He wanted this so much and needed it so badly that he was
suddenly afraid that he couldn't have it.  He was afraid that even
now, his comm badge was going to beep or, worse, he was going to wake
up and find himself some place where it was cold and dark.  "No," Q
said softly, his voice serious.  "I'm real, and what we feel is real
and no one is going to keep you from what you want.  What both of us
want."  There was a slight pause and then the entity chuckled.  "Now
*please,* Jean-Luc, fuck me?  I'm going to die of frustration and you
wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Heaven forbid," Picard replied, his voice shaky.  Slowly, carefully, he
eased his erection inside that incredible heat.  "Oh, God...you feel
so good around me," he murmured.

"Can't be as...unghh...good as you...feel inside me...ohhhh..."  

"You like...it?" Picard asked as he realized that he was all the way
in Q, his pelvis flush against Q's ass.

"Like it?"  Q sounded almost as if he were crying, but Picard knew it
was strangled laughter.  "I adore it.  I want more of it.  I *need*
more of it."

"I'll give you more of it," Picard said with mock menace.  Matching
actions to words, he began to move in and out of Q in a slow, steady
rhythm.  It required most of his willpower, because the feeling of
that tightness and heat around his cock made him want to fuck Q as
hard and as fast as he could.  Gritting his teeth, he forced himself
to remain gentle, to let Q's groans of encouragement guide him. 
*Someday,* he told himself, *maybe someday he'll let me...*  The
thought trailed off and he abruptly stopped, buried deep inside Q.

He'd thought about what would happen beyond this night, beyond this
moment.  He was thinking as if there were some kind of future
relationship between himself and Q.  Suddenly, everything he felt and
thought and experienced this night all came together in one white-hot
flash of understanding.  This wasn't a simple, fun roll in the hay, a
one night stand.  In fact, for Picard, it had gone beyond casual long
before he'd started fucking Q.  This wasn't even infatuation or blind
lust, it was...  *Well, but that's just me,* he thought.  *Maybe Q
doesn't feel...*

And because he knew Q could read his thoughts, and because he'd known
all his life that taking risks could lead to incredible success, he
took one of the biggest risks of his emotional life.  Leaning down, he
put his mouth next to Q's ear.  He was grateful that Q seemed to
understand his dilemma; the entity hadn't protested Picard's stillness
inside him in any way.  "Q," he said, enunciating carefully.  "I've
fallen in love with you."

There was a tiny split second of silence, and then Q spoke.  "I've
lived all my life, countless millennia, waiting for *something,* and
not knowing what it was."  Another pause and Jean-Luc realized that,
like himself, the entity was on the verge of tears.  "And now...now I
know.  I've been waiting to hear *your* voice say *those* words."  A
sniff, a gulp, and then Q added, "and waiting to tell you that...I
love you, Jean-Luc Picard."  

Picard's tears began rolling down his face, as he resumed that careful
rhythm.  "How could..." he said, "...I not...love you? 
Everything...about you...is just so...perfect..."

*And you,* Q's voice said in his head, *how could I not love you? 
You're beautiful, generous, brilliant, you kiss like a dream and you
fuck like nobody's business.  In short, Jean-Luc Picard, you're
perfect.*  Aloud, he added, "Wait...a minute..."  Jean-Luc stopped and
Q, moving carefully so as to keep Picard inside him, maneuvered
himself to his knees, Jean-Luc moving with him.  How they managed it,
Picard wasn't sure, but he didn't care.  Looking past Q's gorgeous
ass, and down the long sweep of his back, Picard stared at the back of
Q's head.  Q had gone to his elbows and was resting his forehead in
his arms.  Beyond that tousled dark hair, Picard could see the
fanciful sunburst on the headboard and the captain imagined for a
moment that that he was fucking a sunburst very much like that one.    

And then he remembered that in a sense he was.  What the hell *was* Q,
anyway?  "Q..." Picard whispered.

"Hard, please?  Fuck me so hard I can't feel anything but your cock." 
Picard stared at Q's back in disbelief.  "Damnit, Jean-Luc, fuck me
*now!*"

His lips set almost grimly, Picard thrust in a bit harder than he had
been, and Q groaned and shuddered.  Picard matched the noise with one
of his own, then continued moving in and out of Q hard and fast,
completely given over to the feeling.  It wasn't just the heat and
pressure or the animal joy of fucking to beat the band.  It was the
knowledge that Q wanted him this much.  It was the awareness --
shouted out now with Q's incredible voice -- that he was giving Q
pleasure.

*'Pleasure?'* Q's voice said again in his head.  "This
is...ecstasy...ohhh...harder!  More!"

Picard ruthlessly shoved the whole question of belief into a drawer in
his mind, grabbed Q's hips with hands slick with sweat, and pounded
into the perfect ass as hard as he could.  Almost instantly, Q
protested:

"No, no.  Stop.  Wait."

Just as instantly, Picard had frozen, filled with dread.  He couldn't
remember the last time something had been this important, and he was
going to screw it up.

Q sighed, squeezing his muscles gently against the hardness inside him
for a caress that robbed Picard of what little breath he had left. 
"It's not enough for you to fuck me," he said quietly, though in his
voice shook with the force of all his halted desire.  "I need to feel
your love too.  I've become completely addicted to it...like...a
Jem'Haddar drone on White.  I *need* everything you can give me.  I
need *you.*"

*I can't do it.*  The thought escaped Picard despite all his best
efforts.  *I can't possibly be enough for him.*  He wished Q were
fucking him instead.  It would be easier to believe Q wanted that,
would use him that way.

*Is that what you're doing, Jean-Luc?  Using me?*

"No!  Oh, God, no."  Picard looked down at where he was joined to Q,
his erection disappearing into that deep cleft.  White-hot lust burned
him, and yet that was nothing compared to the love he was breathing
like pure, sweet oxygen deep into his body.

Q groaned as if Picard had thrust into him.  "Yes!  Ohhh, that's what
I need."

Puzzled, Picard tried to do what he had done before, thinking of his
love for Q.  The entity around his cock cried out with pleasure and
pushed back...not his body, but something as tangible and hot and
arousing.

"Oh God!" Picard howled, arching into the sensation.  He was pumping
his hips forward again now, burying himself over and over inside Q's
body while that *something* filled him and burned him and adored him. 
"Oh!  Q!  Love!  Fuck!  Merde!  Oh, merde!" he shouted.  Then he
stopped trying to make actual words, screaming and thrusting over and
over.  His body and the body around him were the sum total of the
universe.  Pleasure made him hard, made him ache, made him strain
forward and back, made him think of nothing but how it felt to fuck
him and fuck him and fuck him...

Q was screaming as well, his hands pounding on the bed, his hips
pushing back to meet each thrust of Picard's cock into his center, his
love wrapping around the man's heart and squeezing hard.

Picard lost it.  Screaming and thrusting, his hands clamped around Q's
hips, he was nothing but the action of fucking and loving Q, and when
he finally came it was an explosion that ripped him into pieces his
lover gathered and held close.  His cum poured out into that tight
heat and his love --

*Oh, God, Q.  You do love me.*

It was the man's last coherent thought for a long while.

When Picard woke up, he wasn't at all surprised to find Q lying in bed
next to him.  Often when something wonderful had happened to him,
Jean-Luc would find himself wondering if it had been a dream, but not
this morning.  The night before had been too real to be a mere dream. 
*Besides,* he thought as he lazily rolled over to kiss his lover,
*I've never come up with a dream that's this good.*

"What a pity," Q said after a long kiss.  "I was hoping I was a dream
come true."

Picard laughed.  "Finding someone that I love as much as I love you
and who loves me back *is* a dream come true."  He leaned in for
another kiss and then added, "Does that make you happy?"

"*You* make me happy," Q said, answering Jean-Luc's teasing question
seriously.  "We Q don't really sleep you know.  I rested some, but
mostly I watched you sleep, and thought about how happy I am and how
lucky I feel to find someone as incredible as you are to adore and
love."

Picard shook his head.  "Me," he said. "I'm still overwhelmed by the
fact that you feel that way about *me.*"

"But you believe that I feel that way?" Q asked, a trace of anxiety on
his face.

"Yes," Picard replied, reaching out and trying to smooth the small
furrow between Q's dark brows.  "I believe you."

"Oh, well then."  Q smiled and Jean-Luc felt something inside him melt
at the wicked promise of that smile.  "Feel free to be overwhelmed as
much as you like."

"That's kind of you," Picard said dryly.  He would have said more, but a
quiet bell rang.

Before Picard could ask any questions, Q called out, "Come in."

As two Anoni entered Picard's rooms and began setting up breakfast for
two in the sitting room (which was visible through the open double
doors leading to the bedroom), the captain waited to be mortified.  

He wasn't.  How could he be?  He'd learned enough about the Anoni to
know that they'd probably be flattered and delighted to know that two
of their guests had spent the evening together.  Indeed, once the
Anoni (an older woman and a younger man) had finished setting up the
table, they both smiled cheerfully at the two lovers and then left.

"Jean-Luc?" Q asked, his tone serious enough to drive all thoughts of
the Anoni out of Picard's mind.

"Yes?"

"Last night it didn't seem to bother you that I used my powers to
conjure up lube."

It wasn't quite a question, but Picard felt compelled to answer it
nonetheless.  "No it didn't.  In fact, it was damn convenient at the
time."

"Well, it wouldn't have been a huge tragedy if I hadn't done it; the
bathroom here is very well stocked."  Q paused.  "I don't want to do
things that are going to upset you, and..."

"Here and now," Picard interrupted firmly, "all I ask is that if you
want to read my mind beyond the surface thoughts, you ask first. 
Since I can't imagine that you would do that without asking, anything
else is all right."

Q smiled and leaned over to kiss Jean-Luc.  "Do you have any idea how
much your trust means to me?"

"No, but I'll learn in time."  Picard smiled at Q.  "What is it you
want to do?"

"Here, sit up against these pillows here, and relax."  Jean-Luc did as
asked, ending up with his back against a comfortable pile of pillows. 
Q snapped his fingers and the breakfast table was suddenly in the room
with them.  He snapped again and they each had trays covered with a
lavish selection of food on their laps.  "I took the liberty of
guessing a few things when I ordered breakfast," Q explained.  "I hope
I got it right."

"The Anoni drink coffee?" Picard asked.  

"No, but they know that many humans do, so they made sure they had
some.  They also had a stock of Earl Grey tea laid in for you.  Is
that a favorite of yours?"

"Yes, but I like coffee in the morning."  

They spent far longer eating than the simple meal probably required. 
Q wanted to try all seven of the spreads designed to go on the three
different variations of  breakfast bread, and Jean-Luc had fun feeding
the entity the various combinations.  In turn, Q insisted on feeding
Picard fruit salad and kept "accidentally" dropping pieces of it on
Picard's chest.  "Ooops, not again!  I don't know what's gotten into
me this morning," Q said at one  point.  "I'll just have to clean that
up."  As Q's way of cleaning up was to eat the fruit off the captain's
chest, and then carefully lick all the juice up, Picard didn't mind
his lover's clumsiness.  

In fact, he finally pushed his lap tray and the sheets out of the way
because Q was dropping fruit lower down each time.  Q snapped both
trays back to the table, although he retained a dish of the sweet
cream that had reminded Picard of a combination of clotted cream and
honey.  Q had liked it quite a bit and he wasn't at all surprised when
Q began dropping spoonfuls of it onto his chest.  "Mmmm," Q said
licking his lips.  "Who needs rolls?  I'll just eat it this way."

It was a delightful experience and Picard was already aroused when Q's
amazing tongue reached the captain's cream-covered nipples.  As if to
make up for their frenzy last night, Q was slow and deliberate, and
Jean-Luc was soon moaning at the contrast between the cool cream and
Q's warm tongue.  "Ohhh...so goood..."

"It gets better," Q said sitting up.  He looked down at Jean-Luc's
erection, smiled and picked up the dish of cream.  "May I?"

"Please," Picard replied eagerly.

Q smiled as though he knew how rare it was for Picard to ask so openly
for something so intimate, and then directed his downward gaze more
seriously.  "Lovely," he pronounced, dipping two fingers into the bowl
of cream before using them to stroke the side of Picard's cock. 
Jean-Luc gasped at the shocking coolness of it and dropped his head
back, spreading his legs instinctively.  Q got more cream and rubbed
it on him.

"I love seeing you like this," Q growled.  "You look like some sort of
advertisement for sex.  Do you see me watching you enjoy what I'm
doing?"

Picard groaned for an answer.

Q was putting cream on the warm sac of Jean-Luc's testicles now,
watching everything so carefully, so completely, that Picard could
*feel* his eyes on him as though he were standing before a crowd. 
Instead of inhibiting him, however, it just made him all that much
more excited.  When Q moved his cream-cool fingers down his perineum
and then circled around his anus, Picard shuddered and moaned, and
when he slid a finger inside him, Picard shouted something that
sounded a lot like "Now, damnit!"

Q gently pushed his finger in a bit farther, reaching that tiny glad
and stroking it, and as Picard whimpered and tried to move against
that incredible sensation, Q bent down and took Picard in his mouth.

"Oh!" Picard shouted.  Oh, the combination of the cool cream and Q's
warm mouth around his penis along with the cool cream and the heat
from Q's finger inside him was all going to drive him insane.  He
couldn't help thrusting his hips just slightly, and Q moved down to
take him in all the way, surrounding him completely with the heat and
movement of his mouth and the tight embrace of his throat.  Oh, it was
all so perfect and arousing and...*decadent.*

*You deserve a little spoiling.*  Q stroked inside him and sucked
harder and Picard felt himself beginning to come --

And Q stopped it with tight pressure at the base of his cock as he let
Picard out of his mouth.  The man groaned and then shuddered at the
realization that this didn't have to end, then screamed hoarsely when
Q engulfed him again.  Q's tongue worked him, his fingers inside and
around his anus played him, and then with the other hand Q dipped his
fingers into the bowl again and raised them to Picard's lips. 
Jean-Luc opened his mouth and sucked at the cream, licking and
nibbling and trying to share with Q some of what he was feeling.  Then
he remembered his partner's talents and tried to concentrate,
thinking, "So good so good so good..."

*Yes.  Good.  You taste wonderful.  Better than the cream.  Better
than anything I've ever gotten to taste.*

Picard felt the gathering up of energy again, and again Q stopped him
from coming.  The man's legs were twitching now against his attempts
to stay still.  His hips were bucking no matter what he did, but Q
didn't seem to mind.  In fact, Q seemed to be enjoying himself.  Could
he be?

The entity actually chuckled into his mind, the sounds moving up and
scattering like bubbles within a colored glass.  *I could do this for
a century, my beautiful love with your masterpiece of a cock.*

With his legs spread out and his hands reaching back to grab the
headboard and his body covered in cream and sweat and his cock
throbbing and leaking deep in Q's mouth, Picard found it impossible to
reject a complimentary endearment spoken directly into his mind.  He
felt nothing less than adored and infinitely pleasured and arched and
tried to come.

Again Q stopped him, and then again a couple minutes later, and then
again and again until Picard was pleading hoarsely, staring down at
the dark head between his legs, unable to believe in the raw wildness
of this, "Please, Q.  Please...let me...come....in your mouth..."

For an answer, Q thrust hard with his finger right into that sensitive
spot and sucked even harder, and Picard arched like a bow drawn back
to fire and the released, coming and coming and *coming* into all that
heat while Q swallowed and stimulated him further with his lips and
tongue, drawing everything out, making every hot feeling last. 
Eventually, the man just seemed to fold up along the length of his
consciousness, not really passing out, but not really all there
either.  Long minutes passed while he was aware that Q was moving up
the bed and holding him in his arms.  

"So warm..." the man sighed.  For some reason, Q's warmth was like no
other he had ever known.  He remembered Q saying he'd gotten to be
addicted to Picard's love.  Well, he'd grown addicted to Q's warmth. 
He knew he could never bring himself to leave it.

"Never?" Q asked aloud.  "Do I really get to hope for that much,
Jean-Luc?"

Picard should have been shocked, or at least greatly uncomfortable, by
the suggestion that he and Q were making some sort of permanent
arrangement.  He'd lived quite a long time (for a human) without ever
feeling he could tie himself to one person, even when he loved them,
as he had loved Beverly.

"Who's Beverly?" Q asked, and Picard hated the note of suppressed hurt
in Q's voice.  He shook off some of the lethargy from the orgasm and
turned until he could look into Q's dark and currently slightly
worried eyes.

"Beverly is a friend," he said quietly.  "I love her.  I once thought
I was in love with her.  Now we're friends.  I hope the two of you get
along.  I want you to get along with everyone who means anything to
me.  I want all of them to care for you."

The expression in Q's eyes was starting to change.  Picard reached up
gently and stroked his face.

"How about you?  Any friends or relations I should prepare myself to
like?"

Q seemed to consider this a moment.

"Well, I have a...student, although a better word might be protégé,
whom I think you'll like.  Other than that...no one really."  Q didn't
look or sound sad, but Jean-Luc seemed to feel a certain sadness
anyway.  Q smiled slightly.  "You're starting to pick up on me
already.  Give us another day or two and you'll be reading my surface
thoughts as well as I read yours."

"I wish you weren't so lonely," Picard said, stroking Q's face.

"I'm glad I am," the entity replied and smiled at Picard's confusion. 
"It makes this so much better."

"Well there is that," Picard replied.  "I've always prided myself on
my...not loneliness, but on my ability to deal with being lonely."

"Part of the job description, isn't it?" Q asked.  "Wait a minute..." 
He snapped his fingers and the left-over cream was gone.  In fact,
Picard felt as if he'd just had a shower, and his aching muscles no
longer hurt.

"Thank you," he said.  "The cream was lovely at the time, but the
thought of it drying in my chest hair does not appeal."

"Wait 'til I use honey, honey," Q said, leering with exaggeration.  He
curled around Picard spoon fashion, pulling Jean-Luc back against his
chest, and the captain leaned gratefully into that warmth.

"You're so warm," he murmured.  "It feels so good."

"Can I promise you that you'll never be cold again in your life?"

"Well," Picard replied, laughing, "how about 'hardly ever?'  You see, I
liked that cream..."

Q chuckled and Picard could feel the rumble of it against his back. 
"You make me feel so good," Q said, draping an arm around Picard. "I
feel *real* with you, so alive.  Even if there were nothing else about
you for me to love, I'd love you for that.  As it is there are *so*
many things about you..."

"Q," Jean-Luc said, aware that his face was heating up again.  Q
twisted and the man found himself flat on his back with Q looming over
him, an intense look on his face.

"Listen to me, please Jean-Luc.  I'll start with the easy stuff and
work up from that, all right?"  Picard hesitantly nodded.  

"First of all," Q began, "you *are* physically beautiful.  Your face is
so gorgeous, and somehow, it's *you.*"  He shook his head in
frustration.   He reached out and began to stroke Picard's face, and
the captain felt the faint frown brought on by Q's determination to
praise him melt away.  "Your eyes constantly shift color, did you know
that?  I've seen them go from almost brown to gold and then into the
green range, and I love watching it happen.  Right now they're more
gold than anything, and they're beautiful."  Q bent down then and
kissed Picard's eyelids gently.  "I intend to spend long hours just
staring into your eyes in the best romantic fashion, you know that?"

"I never thought of them as being that interesting."

"Well, they are.  You have lovely ears too, did you know that?"  Again Q
bent over Jean-Luc, this time lightly nibbling each ear.  Picard
gasped and shivered, and he felt Q's warm breath as the entity laughed
softly. 
"and they're *very* sensitive, which makes me like them more.

"Now," the entity continued," about the rest of your face..."

"The less said about which the better,' Picard said wryly, although he
was suddenly wondering if he'd been fair with his own assessment of
his own features.

"No, you haven't.  Let me guess, you think your nose is too big?"  When
Picard nodded, Q shook his head.  "Maybe it was when you were younger,
although I doubt it, but Jean-Luc, your face has enough strength and
character to carry off that nose.  In fact, it makes you look very
noble.  Speaking strictly from an aesthetic viewpoint, your face is a
collection of planes and angles that all counterbalance and compliment
each other perfectly.  Without the height of your forehead, you nose
would be out of balance; without the nose, your chin would be too
strong; without these gorgeous brows, your eyes would be lost.  Do you
understand what I'm saying, Jean-Luc?  You have a face that perfectly
reflects who you are, all that strength and passion and nobility, all
perfectly balanced against each other.  How could you not be beautiful?"

Q bent down then and kissed every feature he had mentioned, slowly,
delicately, while Picard murmured when he could, "Your face suits you
as well.  Infinitely interesting, somewhat...sensual.  I'm growing
terribly...fond of it."

"What are my best facial features?" Q asked without either arrogance
nor coyness.

"Your mouth is incredible and..."  What Picard had been about to say
about Q's eyes was lost as that aforementioned mouth descended on his
in a kiss that made his toes curl and heat wash through his body. 
Eagerly he opened his own mouth, plundering and being plundered,
shuddering while Q's fingers trailed over his chest and caressed his
sides.  Q's tongue was deep inside his mouth when those fingertips
found Picard's nipples, teasing them and then applying just the
perfect amount of pressure.

*I haven't gotten to telling you about your body yet,* Q said in his
mind.  *You're like a statue I've found in a Grecian sculpture garden,
come to life like Hermione.  You're so powerful and compact, like a
storm restrained by flesh.*

*Part of me is certainly getting statue-like,* Picard thought wryly as
his penis began to stir against Q's warm body.  He was more than a
little surprised to be getting hard again so quickly.  *Must be the
company I'm keeping.*

*I'm not describing your cock yet,* Q reprimanded with mock sternness.
 *Frankly, I could spend about a week or so just thinking about your
chest.  Your pectoral muscles are so high and you have these lovely
pale pink nipples.  From now on I'm going to take your shirt off and
suck on them whenever I can, just like this.*

Picard moaned and writhed against Q as the entity took his left nipple
between his lips and didn't exactly suck on it.  He simply rubbed at
it at first, then nibbled, then licked, then blew on it, then sucked,
gently then hard, then nibbled again, then switched nipples and
repeated the process while Picard began to moan constantly.  In the
man's mind, as a counter-rhythm to Jean-Luc's sounds of pleasure, Q
was continuing to describe the loveliness of his nipples:  their size,
shape, color and sensitivity.

The oddest thing about the experience for Picard was the incredible
arousal he felt combined with a strange lack of urgency.  He loved
being adored this way.  He felt worshipped and admired just like a
statue in a garden.  He felt warm and precious and felt it was quite
possible he could just lie here all day while Q --

"Oh, no!" Picard shouted.  He was supposed to be at a reception for
the Counsel of Elders.

Q stopped what he was doing and raised his head to stare into Picard's
eyes.  The captain responded by refusing to think about what he needed
to think about and raising up his hands to wrap around the back of Q's
neck and draw down that incredible face he adored.  Their lips met and
Picard opened his mouth to kiss Q with all the depth and passion at
his command.  Q was panting when they broke the kiss, and Picard
wasn't breathing too evenly either.

"I have to go to the reception," Picard said, as though he weren't
naked and hard as steel with and equally naked and aroused Q on top of
him.  "I'm sorry.  My officers."

"I understand, Jean-Luc," Q said with a voice as sincere as his warm,
dark eyes.  He seemed to think a moment, then smiled.  "You actually
have nine minutes to go."

With a groan, Picard pushed himself out of Q's warm arms and found his
uniform on the floor, his underwear and socks in a drawer, and his
boots under the bed.  In four minutes he was dressed.

"Yet another advantage to life without hair," Q said from the bed. 
Picard turned to look at him just as the entity raised his right hand
and snapped it.

They were standing side-by-side in one of the courtyards the Anoni
used in place of halls and corridors.  The Anoni buildings were
honeycombs of such courtyards and vast chambers, all designed to
provide accommodations for their constant social interactions.  Picard
looked at Q in surprise, and took in his black clothes and purple
duster. 

"My 'ambassador' rags," Q murmured.  "I've discovered officials of
almost all races really do prefer to interact with people in
'uniforms.'"

Picard nodded, becoming more consciously aware of the noise of the
reception already underway.  The far wall of the courtyard was broken
by a high wooden door, and after nodding with a smile to Q and
thinking he was going to have to get used to being "snapped" places,
Picard headed for it.

"Captain Picard!  Ambassador Q!" an Anoni voice called and flapped
from behind him and Q.  The man and his lover turned to see three
Anoni women approaching.

Picard had immediately noted and approved of Anoni fashion.  The women
loved off-the-shoulder tapestry-like dresses that were somehow still
light and graceful, and the men enjoyed wearing tight and colorful
clothing which showed off their strong legs and broad shoulders.  The
three women now approaching looked like medieval artworks with arms
and legs, and Picard smiled at them with easy and genuine warmth.

The middle woman seemed older than the others and spoke for the group:
 "We are delighted to learn that the two of you have found love
together at our conference."

Picard blinked and kept his smile with difficulty.

"We're pretty happy about it too," Q told them.

The three women smiled broadly, flapping a bit, and the captain found
the dread and distance which had instinctively responded to their
greeting melting away inside him.  They were genuinely happy for him
and for Q, and yet their eyes didn't wander, there was nothing in
their manner or tone which questioned or pried, they did not smirk or
nudge.  Picard felt suddenly filled with happiness and smiled at them
in kind.

The head female turned to Q.  "If you would allow us a moment?"

Q nodded and walked over to the door, tossing a look of affection back
at Picard before opening the door and walking through.  The captain
turned to the women and waited patiently.  They obviously had
something of some importance to ask him.

Picard wasn't sure how he got through the morning round of meetings. 

END OF PART SIX

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:31:15 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW: To Tell the Q 7/10 (TNG, P/Q)
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:31:15 GMT
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To Tel the Q
7/10 disclaimers of 1/10

After the captain had spoken with the three Anoni priestesses, Q had
obviously know something was on his mind, but Jean-Luc had asked his
lover not to ask questions.  He'd had been afraid that if he tried to
"discuss" the matter in public, he'd embarrasses himself.  How he'd
managed not to embarrass himself with the priestesses, he didn't know.
 He chalked it up to years of diplomatic training and left it at that.

There were no meetings scheduled after lunch, which was a relaxed
affair in the reception hall.  Picard made a point of introducing Q to
his officers and they did a very good job of controlling their
curiosity about the exact nature of the relationship between their
Captain and ambassador Q.  Picard knew that they could figure some of
it out, and he appreciated their tact in not being obvious in their
guessing.  

After lunch, Picard and Q retired to Picard's room, where the entity
waited, if not patiently, at least silently, while Picard checked in
with the Enterprise, and made a quick report to be transmitted to
Starfleet.

"Thank you," Picard said, when all his mundane business was finished.   

"I'm dying of curiosity," Q said.  "But you asked me not to ask..."

"And, believe me, I appreciate it."  Picard took a deep breath, and
then smiled as Q left his chair to join him on the couch.  "How much
do you know about the Anoni religion?" 

"It's mostly a personal thing, what I believe could be called a
disorganized religion.  They have certain holy days that they observe,
and there are turning points, both private and public, that they
believe warrant certain rituals.  Isn't there some sort of brief
ceremony right before the signing?"

"Yes," Picard replied distractedly.  "But that isn't the ceremony that
has me...concerned."  

"Those were priestess this morning?"

"Yes.  It seems that our falling in love, here, during such an
important occasion, is one of those turning points, particularly
because the Anoni feel that our relationship will help bring the
Continuum and the Federation closer together."

"Well, if anything can," Q said, "this might be it."  He looked at
Jean-Luc.  "There's a ritual," he prompted . . .

"To celebrate a new relationship between important people," Picard
said.  "The Elected was in such a ceremony when she first met her
husband.  But it's not a marriage."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Jean-Luc, am I going to have to pry this out of you?"

"They want us to fuck," Picard said, taking refuge in bluntness.  

"We have, remember?"

"In the temple."

"Oh?"

"In front," Picard paused and took a deep breath, "of an audience." 

"Ah," Q replied.  "You told them no."  The entity sounded a little
disappointed.

Picard was suddenly glad that he was sitting down.  "I told them that
I'd discuss it with you."  He shot a swift, sideways glance at Q, and
his breath caught at the intrigued look that flashed across his
lover's face.  "I wasn't going to be rude, although I did explain that
I couldn't do it if they wanted any of my crew to be there..."

"Of course," Q murmured.  "But you didn't say no."

"No."

"I understand.  You didn't want to offend them.  Don't worry,
Jean-Luc, I can explain that it isn't something that a Q would feel
comfortable with."  In spite of the seriousness of his words and the
generosity of his offer, Picard could have sworn that there was a
teasing note in Q's voice.

"Um...is it?"

"What?"

"Something that a Q would feel uncomfortable with?"

"Hmmm..."  Q pretended to muse for a moment and then looked over at
Picard.  "Knowing the Anoni, I'd say we're talking candlelight,
firelight, incense, wonderful music, and a fairly non-stuffy ritual,
right?"  

Picard nodded.  

"Well let's see," Q went on.  "A chance to strip the clothes off your
gorgeous body..." 

Picard's breathing sped up.

"...cover you with some sort of ritual oil..."

Picard gulped.

"...touch and kiss you until you moan..."

Picard bit his lower lip.

"...and then roll you onto your back and push those gorgeous legs
against your chest..."

Picard gasped faintly.

"...and then slowly, carefully, gently, slide my cock inside your
ass..."

Picard's eyes closed and his head tilted back against the back of the
sofa.

"..and stay there until you want me to move..."

Picard let a faint moan escape.

"...and then move, starting slowly, letting your moans and gasps tell
me how to proceed..."

Picard shifted on the sofa.

"...until I'm fucking you as hard as you can stand and both of us are
making the same kind of noises we made last night..."

Picard arched his body slightly.

"...until I come inside you and you come all over my chest..."

Picard moaned again, loudly this time.

"...while a temple full of Anoni watch us."

Picard opened his mouth.  "Please, Q..."

There was a snap, and Picard was naked.  A second later, Q's hot oiled
hand began stroking Jean-Luc's aching cock with strong rhythmic
movements.  "I can't wait," that rich voice said.  Picard let out a
strangled yell and came, almost blacking out at the intensity of it.

When he came back down, he opened his eyes to see Q looking at him,
love shining out of those dark eyes.  "I'll take that," Q said,
in-between licking semen off his fingers, "to mean that you like the
idea?"

"Fuck me right now, Q."

"Sort of like a dress rehearsal?" Q asked, eyebrows raised.  "Or...an
undressed rehearsal?"  He laughed, but Picard frowned at seeing
himself naked on the sofa while Q was still fully clothed.  Q leaned
over to him then and kissed him soundly, a hand going to his chest to
caress it.

"We'll do whatever you want," Q murmured between forays into Picard's
mouth.  "And I'd fuck you or be fucked by you in the marketplace or
behind some trash cans or in a palace or wherever else you'll let me
touch you.  You can do *anything,* don't you understand?  I don't
care, as long as it involves you and me and being together.  If sex
gets to go in there too, so much the better."

"Then take off your clothes!" Picard groaned, pulling at the purple
coat almost petulantly.

"Let me be inside you the first time in the temple, please, Jean-Luc?"

Picard was surprised enough to stop tugging and look into Q's eyes.  Q
took his own hand and slid it under Picard's leg until he was cupping
the smooth curve of his backside.  When Q spoke, his voice was deep
and a little breathless.  "I've wanted to be in there since I saw you.
 I *know* how tight and hot and perfect you're going to be.  I love
the idea of a ceremony.  I love the idea of other people seeing how
much this means to me.  I want to do this *right,* don't you see? 
After I've been inside you I don't want you to think about making love
to anyone else ever again.  When you think about sex from then on I
want it to mean me and only me...just like sex for me means you and
only you."

Picard smiled and put his hand on the cloth-covered bulge of Q's
erection, squeezing and then chuckling when Q moaned.  "I'm already
there, lover," he whispered.  "I'm already there."

"Ohhhh," Q breathed as Picard moved his hand, and before the sound was
done Q was naked.

"So much to admire," Picard rumbled, looking over Q's body.  He found
it wonderfully endearing that Q's body wasn't some sort of artifice of
perfection.  He was tall and strong, his muscles were firm and his
skin was warm and soft, but Q's body seemed correct for him somehow,
not some vain proclamation of superiority.

However, Picard couldn't help wondering if perhaps Q had been a little
artful when it came to his cock.  It was straight and perfectly
shaped, flushed dark red and velvet silk to his fingertips.  A drop of
precum was pooling in the slit now, and with a light caress the
moisture was easily spread around the hard knob, making the erection
look suddenly like it was begging to be licked.

"Jean-Luc," Q whimpered softly as Picard bent his head and suited
action to thought.

"So," Picard murmured, letting his breath brush the sensitive skin,
"tomorrow night I get to hold this inside me?"

"Yes.  Deep inside.  I'm going to touch the center of you and make you
come so -- oh!  Oh, please, more of that!"

Picard complied, pushing his lips farther down the long shaft of his
lover while his tongue slid in and out of that wet slit.  Jean-Luc
sucked hard and firmly, wanting to finish Q off before he got too
aroused himself.

But as if sensing that, Q's hand began to stroke Picard's relaxed
penis until it began to harden and they were both groaning, the man
making noises deep in his throat of pure pleasure, loving that he was
going down on Q this way, loving that he was giving and receiving
pleasure so openly, so freely.  He could see them in his mind, two
naked men doing something so simple to make the other happy.

*I love you,* Picard thought with ease into Q's mind.  *I'm exploding
with it.*

Q shuddered and groaned, and though the sound and feel were of nothing
but excitement, Picard sensed something else.

*What?  Please, love, tell me.*

*I'm sorry...but please, please, fuck me.*

Picard released Q's erection immediately, grabbed the entity by his
hips and flipped him over on the couch.  Q eagerly got to his knees
and elbows, whipping up warm, slick oil over the man's erection and
the fingertips of his right hand.  Picard pushed one finger inside
him, and Q shuddered again.

"Hurry."

"Do you have any idea how you look?" Picard whispered, trailing
touches along Q's flank with his free hand.  He slipped in another
finger.  "Your whole body wants this, doesn't it?  Like my whole body
wants you."

"My whole body wants you *now,* Jean-Luc!"

But as soon as he had gotten into position and removed his hand,
Picard found himself leaning over to rest on Q's back.  Kissing along
the bumps of his spine and shoulder blades, he felt too overcome to
fuck Q.  He felt...unworthy.

"Jean-Luc?" Q asked, his voice shaky.  Picard couldn't reply, he could
only stare at Q's body, offered up before him.  Little warning bells
were going off in the back of his mind, telling him that this was
simply *too* perfect.  It couldn't be happening to him.  "My love," Q
murmured, softly.  "Has love been that hard for you?" 

Without waiting for the answer that Picard couldn't open his mouth to
give, Q snapped his fingers and they were suddenly in the bed.  Q
looked at Jean-Luc and frowned.  "Tell me who did this to you.  Who
made it so that you can't believe that you deserve happiness?"

"Why?"  Q said nothing in reply but his eyes narrowed.  "No, it
doesn't matter, Q.  Anyway, most of the people from that long ago are
dead now."

"How could a father do that to his own son?  I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, but
it was so loud that I not only know who you're thinking of, but I know
what the man looked like."

"It wasn't entirely Father's fault," Picard said, unaware of how much
he gave away by the carefully enunciated words.  "And that's not all
of it..."

"But you still feel like you shouldn't be enjoying this too much," Q
said.  "Jean-Luc there has to be some way I can convince you that you
*do* deserve love.  Tomorrow night will help, I'm sure of that, but
now..."  Q frowned.  "Last night, when I asked you to stop, you
thought something about how important this was and how you were going
to screw it up."

"I still feel that way."  Picard shivered a little, feeling cold for
some reason.

"All right."  Q snapped his fingers and the lights in the bedroom went
out and the drapes pulled themselves closed.  They were covered in the
blankets and once more Picard felt that amazing warmth rolling off Q
to surround him.  

"Jean-Luke, please listen to me," Q began.  Picard nodded, and the
entity continued.  "I want *you.*  To be more honest, I *need* you.
Your love is the first honest, good, real emotion that's been offered
to me in countless millennia.  From what little you've said, I know
that you've been lonely, but at least you've had friendships and you
have your crew.  They care about you a great deal, you know.  It was
rather sweet that they were all dying of curiosity, and knew better
than to upset you by asking."

Picard smiled, slightly.  "They're such good people, the best really. 
I'm so lucky."

"I don't have that.  Once we, the Q, worked together toward a common
goal, but that was so long ago that I can't remember what it felt
like, if I were even there at the time and not merely remembering this
through some sort of tribal memory."  He pulled Jean-Luc closer.  "So
don't you see what your love means to me?  *You* feel unworthy?  Oh,
my love, don't you see that your love makes *me* worthy, defines some
part of me that I didn't even know existed?"  Q suddenly pounded the
bed in frustration.  "I'm fumbling here, I can't *say* the right
thing; the words don't exist."

The entity rolled until Picard was on top of him, and then Q began
running his hands all over Picard's body, as if he couldn't touch him
enough.   The erection that had faded due to his own insecurity now
returned and, even though the captain was still troubled, he couldn't
help responding to Q's caresses with caresses of his own.

Then Q had Picard's erection in a warm slippery grasp and was guiding
him into position.  "I'm on my back," Q said in that caressing voice. 
"I've pulled my knees up to my chest and I'm as vulnerable as a human
male can be.  All in front of you, Jean-Luc.  I trust you to see me
like this, to not mock me for my needs..."

"Never!" Picard said fiercely.

"But I can't...I'm afraid really to believe that.  That's why I cling
to you so much, why I demanded that you surround me with your emotions
last night."  He chuckled faintly.  "What's your expression?  Birds of
a feather?"  He arched slightly.  "Please, Jean-Luc, go inside me and
let me *show* what I don't have the words to tell."

As Picard moved carefully, easing his cock into that incredible heat,
he could feel how empty Q felt.  Not just the physical emptiness of
needing someone to fuck him, to fill him up (although that feeling was
there), but a vast emotional emptiness.  It was the feeling of someone
who had been blind for so long that he'd forgotten not only what it
was like to see, but also what it was like to *want* to see.  And into
this darkness had come someone that Jean-Luc almost didn't recognize. 
He saw himself as Q saw him:  the slim compact body that seemed barely
able contain an energetic soul that shone like the heart of a star. 
He saw intelligence and wit and generosity and an analytical mind that
was balanced by a buried, mischievous sense of humor.  He saw the
passion and the caring and the conviction and the deeply rooted desire
to discover and the self-imposed obligation to do good.  And he saw
the physical beauty Q had tried to tell him about:  the face that was
noble and strong and softened just a bit by the smile lines in the
corners of the eyes, the body that was perfection, all strength and
grace, and which was, to Q, more arousingly gorgeous than anything
seen in over an eon of looking at beautiful things.  He saw himself as
an object of sexual desire:  the nipples Q had praised so lavishly,
the hands that looked so strong but which were so carefully gentle,
the beautiful cock that Q was sure he'd never get enough of, the ass
that Q wanted so very much to take...   

In short, Picard saw, through the lens of Q's desires, that he was so
blindingly prefect, so amazingly overwhelming, that it was Q who was
sure that he was not worthy of Jean-Luc's love.  It was Q who saw
Picard's physical beauty, and his complex mind, and his shining soul,
and feared that he had nothing to offer to this paragon.  To his own
amazement Picard saw that Q looked on him in awe, and needed him like
he'd needed nothing before, and that the entity offered himself up to
Picard because he could do nothing else to show his devotion.

He should have been terribly embarrassed to see himself like that,
Picard thought, but he wasn't.  Instead, he understood it all too
well, for Q's feelings for him mirrored his own for the entity in so
many ways.  Because he couldn't yet show Q how he saw him -- although
he made a silent promise to both of them that he'd learn whatever
lessons it took to get him to the point where he could -- he settled
for the simple human act of love.  Concentrating fiercely on how much
he needed to be here with Q, needed to be buried in the burning warmth
of his lover, he began to move.

Ignoring Q's pleas to pick up the pace, Picard forced himself to wall
off his own desire and concentrate solely on Q.  He kept up a slow but
steady rhythm, kissing Q's mouth and neck, touching his nipples and
his cock, doing his best to wrap Q in an ever-tightening spiral of
ecstasy.  At one point, he grabbed Q's hand and slid it between them
and down to where they were joined.  "Feel that?" Jean-Luc asked, his
voice ragged with his efforts to hold back.  "That's my cock moving in
and out of you.  That's you taking me in."

"Ohhhh...please...love....you...need you..."  Q soon lost the ability
to verbalize and was just groaning and crying out in wordless need.  

Finally, when some part of Picard sensed that the spiral had been
wound as tight as possible, he reached down and gripped Q's hips.  His
vision of himself through Q's eyes had also shown him just how much Q
had welcomed the almost-pain of the fast, furious sex of the night
before.  Knowing that it was all right for him to fuck Q as hard as he
possibly could, he paused, buried inside Q, and whispered, "Brace
yourself, my love.  I'm going to fuck you with that cock you love. 
I'm going to go inside you deep and hard so that you'll *know* how
much I love you."

Q pulled his legs back against his chest further and managed to get
the word "please" out.  Picard pulled back and almost out of him and
then thrust back in.  And he kept doing it, over and over and over,
ignoring the burn of the muscles in his thighs and back, not worrying
about the bruises he was undoubtedly leaving on Q's hips, not aware of
anything but the heat that surrounded him.  It wasn't just his cock
that he buried again and again inside the pool of fire that was his
lover, it was himself, all of himself, everything Q loved about him,
everything he was.  He gave himself over to it, letting his body
maintain the hard, driving rhythm, and when he knew he could hold back
no longer, he spoke into Q's mind:  

*You're going to feel this tomorrow, won't you?*

"Yes!"

*You can sit through the conference and think about how much I love
you, how I went into you, deep and hard.*

"Ohhhh...yes...Jean...Luc...please..."


*You can remember what it felt like to reach down and feel my cock in
your ass.*

And with that, Q came, thrashing so wildly under Picard that he nearly
threw his lover off.  Q's muscles tightened almost painfully around
Jean-Luc's cock, and between that and the gorgeous wildness of Q
writhing beneath him, Jean-Luc felt the last of his control slide out
of his grasp.  He came, screaming and thrusting himself into Q as
deeply as he could.  There was nothing beyond this moment, and he
wasn't even sure if he'd survive the fiery heat of this bliss.  As he
finally passed beyond the ecstasy and fell against the slick warmth of
his lover, Picard had one last hazy vision of himself as a god of
light and ecstasy, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.  He
managed to think, *Someone so bright should be seen by everyone," but
even as he wondered why he had thought that, Q's warmth wrapped around
him and he slept.

The light from the sun was silver on his skin, and somewhere Picard
was sure he heard music interspersed with the sound of a waterfall. 
There were trees and some sort of low wall made of limestone.

*I'm dreaming, obviously.*

There was a calm breeze carrying the smell of honeysuckle.  He was in
his cadet's uniform.  Was he looking for Boothby?

*What would Boothby think of Q?*

*He'd heartily approve.*

*Could you fuck me in this dream, Q?*

*Do you really find it so difficult to wait?  It will only be fourteen
hours or so from now.*

Warmth.  God.  So much warmth.  And the feeling now of Q's hands on
his body.

*Ohhhh.  I want you to touch me forever.*

*All right.*

*How can it mean so much to have you touch me like this?  So warm, so
gentle, and yet such strength.  You could hold me forever and never
lose me, couldn't you?"

*That's my current plan.*

*What is it about you that makes me think these sorts of thoughts?  I
sound like some besotted schoolboy.*

*Kinky.*

*Seriously, Q...*

"You want to be serious in the middle of a sex dream?*

*Q...*

*How about if I touch this here instead?*

*Oh!  Oh, what...that's just...that's only my back you're touching. 
Why does it...Ohhh.  Oh.  God.*

*Your whole body responds better than most people's hot spots.  You
just feel everything so much, don't you?*

*Oh, please, more...Ah!  Oh, you're biting me!*

*Just a little.  And you're enjoying it.  Such taut muscles back here.
 Such lovely skin, all the way down here to...*

*Ooooh.  Oh.*

*Your ass is so fucking gorgeous.  Look at your tight pink opening. 
Soon I'll slide my cock in there.*

"Q...please...I need...Oh!  Ohhhhh.*

*Like that?*

*Oh God.  Oh God.*

*No, don't worry.  You're standing just right.  Do you like this,
Jean-Luc?  Do you like standing there with me kneeling behind you, my
face pressed to your ass, my tongue inside, making you feel things you
haven't felt before?*

*Things I haven't felt...yes, more...oh...this isn't...Q, oh, my
love...this isn't a proper...dream.*

"You're complaining?"

*I can't...oh...I'm going to...*

*Do you know your cock is the perfect size for my hand?*

*OH GOD!  Oh, love...let me come!*

*Not yet, I don't think.  You feel so good.  Everything is so good.*

*Oh...I can't take this much...I can't take...oh...*

*This is only the beginning.  Oh, my love.  The pleasure I'm going to
give you.*

*Please.  Now.  Damn you.  I love you.  Please!*

*Well...okay.*

When Picard awoke, screaming and arching and covering himself with his
own semen, he seemed held together only by the warm strength of Q's
arms.  Q's dark eyes watched it all, intently, taking in every detail
as he thrashed and shouted and came and came.

What felt like hours later Picard was able to return Q's embrace.  The
entity kissed him gently on the lips and snuggled close.  It wasn't
yet time to get up.

"How long is it still before you'll be fucking me?" Picard asked.

Q grunted and smiled.  "Twelve hours, ten minutes."

"Oh.  How am I going to get through the rounds of meetings today?" 
Picard asked, burrowing into Q's warmth.  

"You'll manage. I'm sure they'll understand it if we're both a little
nervous."

"A little!"

"You didn't have to say yes, you know."  Q teased.

"Well, technically..."

"We've agreed and have said we'd be honored.  I wrote a note to the
High Priestess."

Picard shook his head.  "I can't believe that I'm doing this.  Do you
know what my first thought was when the High Priestess explained the
ritual to me?"

"Hmmm?"

"I thought, 'Oh, God, yes!' or something like that.   And now, just
the thought is..."

"I noticed."  Picard felt Q's hand caressing his stiffening penis.

"Wait, I want to do something for you."

"All right.  Lie there and watch me come."  When Picard raised his
eyebrows in question, Q grinned.  "After all, it's only fair, I got to
watch you."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Nope," Q replied cheerfully.  "Just knowing that you're watching me,
that you're taking pleasure in seeing me, is enough."  As he spoke the
entity stretched languorously, and reached down to stroke his own
erection.  "Someday I want to do this while you talk me through it,
tell me where to touch myself, that sort of thing."

"On one condition," Picard replied, his voice husky and his eyes wide.

"And that is?"

"That you'll do the same for me."

END OF PART SEVEN

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:33:53 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW: To Tell the Q 8/10 (TNG, P/Q)
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:33:53 GMT
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To Tell the Q
8/10 disclaimers in 1/10


"Mmmm...like that idea..."  Q was biting his lower lip now, and Picard
wasn't sure what was more entrancing, the look on his lover's face as
he became more and more aroused, or the slow, steady rhythm of Q's
hand.  It had to be one of the more pleasant dilemmas he'd ever
experienced, and he settled for dividing his attention, now watching
as Q's eyes almost closed and his face began to show the tension of an
oncoming orgasm, and then watching as Q's hand slowly increased speed. 

Knowing the pattern of male arousal as well as he did, Picard found it
fascinating to watch another man masturbate.  He'd rather expected it
to be a slightly silly sight, but instead it was powerful and erotic. 
He could almost feel along with Q the moment when Q's mouth fell open
and he started panting unevenly.  Jean-Luc knew what it was like to be
so focused on the need that you forgot to breathe until your body
forced you.  He recognized the motions Q made as he got closer to
orgasm, the way he thrust his hips up and the rapid clenching and
unclenching of his unoccupied fist.  And to hear, through the heavy
breathing, the little moans and whimpers as Q forced himself to slow
down, to draw the pleasure out as far as he could.

Without thinking about it, Picard began to talk.  "I know what you're
feeling," he said, watching as Q stopped for a split-second and then,
with a harsh groan, started up again.  "Slowly, your whole body's
focus is narrowing down.  Soon there won't be anything but your cock,
hard and heavy and almost painfully sensitive.  Each nerve in it is
burning, isn't it?  And the waiting, it's almost too much to bear. 
You're coming closer to that knife's edge, closer to that moment when
all that tension will be released."

"Ohhhh..."

"You feel it building up, getting stronger and still narrowing down,
until there's nothing but tension, nothing but need."

"Yessss..."

Picard realized that he could sense more than the visible signs of Q's
arousal, and he wondered if, in time, they would eventually be linked
even closer.  But now he could feel that tension he'd spoken of
reaching the breaking point.  "And you're thinking of me, aren't you?"
 There was no doubt in Picard's mind that Q *was* thinking about him
and he loved the idea.  "Thinking about good it will be to fuck me,
how I'll surround you, how you'll be inside my ass, and how tight and
hot I'll be around your cock..."

Q yelled and came.  It was an incredible sight, and Picard took it all
in, not daring to blink.  Q's back arched, and he yelled over and
over, and the semen spurted out of his cock and landed on his chest. 
It was one of the most erotic sights Jean-Luc had ever seen, and when
Q finally blinked and then opened his eyes, Picard launched himself
onto the startled entity.

"God, that was amazing," he said, rubbing against Q's slick body. 
"You looked so good, so hot."

"I've never done that as a human," Q said.  "And you were right, I was
thinking about fucking you."

"Ohhh," Picard moaned, pushing his erection into Q's hip.  He could
tell that Q had added more of that magical warm oil and he moaned at
the feeling of all that slick skin against his cock.  He was already
close to the edge, and when Q reached down and grabbed his ass,
pulling him even closer, Picard moaned and came.  

It was safe to say that the following day was the longest of Picard's
life.  It seemed almost to have been made as a series of trials.

There were the conferences, four sessions during the course of the
day, with every important figure on Anoni.  Picard met the seven heads
of state who worked under The Elected, giving them his most sincere
and eloquent wishes for peace and prosperity.  He met the Keeper of
the Door, a sort of librarian of the Anoni's sacred texts.  He met the
High Priestess again, watching carefully as she gave no sign before
others of the ritual she and he and Q were going to attend later in
the evening.  He met the Surveyor of the Post, the Minister of
Transportation, the Chief of Off-World Communications and the Chief on
Anoni Communications, the last two of which were married.  He met the
Patron of the Arts and her fifteen Ministers of Genre.  He met the
Surgeon General and the Purveyor of Charity, the Secretary of State
and the Chief Environmental Executive.  And he met all of their spouses.

There were the meetings with his crew.  When they all met and sat
together at the first session, he could feel their eyes on him and Q. 
Troi was quietly beaming, Riker looked a little thrown but strangely
smug, and Beverly looked rather amused and curious.  Data looked
overtly interested, and had to keep getting reigned in by LaForge, who
simply seemed happy.  They had a working lunch in Picard's
antechamber, and though the Anoni servants hampered conversation
somewhat, the captain was not exactly free from scrutiny.

Data started it.  LaForge had been discussing the Anoni's transporter
technology and considering means whereby the Federation could
implement a more efficient Heisenberg Compensator based on Anoni
encoding when the operations officer had asked innocently enough:

"Ambassador Q, I noted that you are consuming food in the manner of a
human.  Do the Q need to eat, or do you, like I, eat in order to
maintain a closer connection to your company?"

And then while Q considered his answer, Picard became aware that all
of his officers were wondering what other human behavior Q might
perform in order to maintain a closer connection with his company.

"The Q are not strictly in need of sustenance," Q replied neutrally
enough.  "But we need to taste of the world around us in order to
experience our own existence.  In such a sense, I 'need' to eat."

"Then you're enjoying the conference, Ambassador?" Beverly asked.

"You may call me 'Q,' Doctor."

"And you may call me Beverly."

"Would you pass the pom-roots, Beverly?"

"I'm really quite pleasantly surprised by the Anoni systems of
government," Picard said just a touch loudly.  "One wonders how they
manage to maintain such a long and strict adherence to financing the
arts when they have no traditionally superior cash crop."

"The Anoni certainly have a great deal to offer, both to their own
people and to visitors," Troi said, her eyes sparkling.  "And I've
heard, Captain, that you and the Ambassador --"

"You may call me 'Q' as well, Counselor."

"Deanna, please...have agreed to participate in an ancient Anoni
ritual to celebrate the Anoni's union with the Federation."

"Yes!" Picard said, nodding sharply.  "That's true."

"The particulars of the ritual are not generally known," Data said,
still seeming innocent.  "But it was obvious when we spoke to the
liaison officer that the Anoni are greatly pleased by your willingness
to participate."

"The Anoni sure aren't what I expected," LaForge remarked, not quite
recognizing the game that was being played.  "I can't believe the
level of technological sophistication they've reached without ever
once having had a global conflict."

"They're an extremely practical, fair-minded, and peaceful people,"
Beverly agreed.  "And I hear their religious rituals are
quite...elaborate and intimate."

"Perhaps you should ask to join in one on your own," Q suggested.  "I
sure there would be Anoni willing to show you the ropes."

Beverly's eyes were rather narrow now, but the urge to giggle was
apparent anyway.  Picard began to wonder if there were any possibility
the ground would open up and swallow him.

"Considering the importance of this addition to the Federation," Riker
stated, "I'm sure Starfleet will be pleased to know the Anoni are
accepting us at every level."

"Thank you, Number One."

*Don't worry, Jean-Luc.  They really don't know what the ritual is. 
They're just curious."

Picard sent back a sort of mental nod, and the luncheon continued
smoothly enough.  It was the only time that day Q's telepathy actually
calmed him.

Every other time, the words which suddenly announced themselves in
Picard's mind increased rather than soothed Picard's personal torment.

There was the moment when he was standing in front of the Minister of
Transportation, and leaned over to pick a padd up off the table nearby
only to hear in his head, *Look at you!  How is it I'm the only one in
the room who's thinking of ripping off your clothes and fucking you
right now?  Oh, it's going to be so gooooood.*

There was the private conversation he had with the High Priestess
about Terran respect for humanity's own diverse religions and the
mental urging, *Look at her eyes, so clear and intelligent.  So
*aware!*  And soon she'll be watching you as I touch you all over and
slide myself inside you and make you come.*

There was the full thirty minutes of intermittent verbal teasing
Picard had to endure during the speech by the Chief of Off-World
Communications, the looks Q sent him every time no one else was
watching, and always, through the whole day, that special warmth he
felt every time Q was near him.

In the end, he wasn't sure how he had made it through the day.  He
only knew that somehow he had.

After the day's last meeting, he wished his curious but restrained
officers good-night and waited with Q in the main conference room for
the High Priestess and her entourage to lead them to the temple.

"How are you doing?" Q asked quietly before the High Priestess showed
up.

"After getting through that 500-year-long day?" Picard replied,
smiling.  "I don't think I'm nervous about the ritual anymore.  I'm
too numb."

"Oh, that's too bad," Q whispered in his ear.  "I was hoping you'd
feel every inch of me as I fuck you."

Picard bit his lip, trying not to think about the thing he *was* still
nervous about.  Then, thinking that he owed Q that much, he sighed and
turned to face his lover.  "I'm...worried about that," he admitted
softly.

Q's reaction, even before the entity said anything, made Picard feel
better.  Q didn't laugh or act as if he thought Picard was being
foolish.  Instead, he simply nodded in complete understanding and
reached out to take Picard's hand in his.  "Omnipotence, or near
omnipotence, has its advantages," Q said carefully.  "I didn't know
all that much about human sexuality when I first saw you.  By the time
I spoke to you, I knew all there is to know about the things that men
do with one another."  He chuckled slightly.  "And I was still nervous
when you were going to fuck me that night.  You're
rather...intimidating, you know."  

"So I've been told," Picard said, surprising himself.  

Q smiled faintly and an oddly dreamy expression crossed his face. 
"Once you touched me, put your fingers inside me, I wasn't nervous
anymore, just empty and wanting more."  He gripped Picard's hands
gently.  "I'm going to take advantage of my omnipotence tonight,
Jean-Luc.  If you're not ready, I'll know, all right?"

"Thank you," Picard said.  "I'm being a little..." 

"I told you," Q interrupted, "that I was too."  He leaned forward and
brushed a kiss across Jean-Luc's lips.  "Thank you for letting me know."

Picard would have answered, but just then the doors opened and the
High Priestess entered.  He'd expected her to have a larger entourage
and was surprised (and rather relieved) to see that her only
attendants were the two priestess he'd met the day before.  Since then
he'd learned that one of the women was the High Priestess'
artist-in-residence, and the other was the temple's own Keeper of the
Door.  

All through the drive to the temple, Picard had yet another reason to
admire the Anoni sense of courtesy.  It turned out that the artist was
a poet and she was overwhelmed by the volume of work in the
Federation's data banks.  Soon, everyone else in the ground car was
listening as Picard and the poet (whose name was Liajue) talked about
the difference between haiku, the Vulcan ne'thyl, and the Anoni cyvel.
 When the car stopped, it took Picard half a second to notice that
they were at the temple.  

Picard had known that he and Q would have to be separated during the
preparation, and so, when the High Priestess handed each of them over
to a pair or priestesses, he was expecting it.  What he wasn't
expecting, but appreciated, was the moment alone they gave him and Q. 
"Do you have any idea," Jean-Luc said quietly to his lover, "how much
I want this?"

"As much as I do," Q replied.  

"So you're all right with this?"

"I told you, Jean-Luc, I'll do this with you anywhere."

"'Could you, would you on a train?'" Picard quoted.  "'Would you,
could you in the rain?'"

"What?" Q asked.

"I'll explain later.  I love you."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I love you too."  

Picard smiled and pulled Q closer for a kiss.  As he left Q's mouth to
nibble lightly at the entity's neck, he could feel the rapid pulse and
was strangely calmed to know that Q was nervous about this too.  "It's
going to be perfect," he said softly.  "I want this, you want this,
and heaven knows the Anoni want it."  Then, trying for the first time
without the intimacy of sex, he spoke to Q's mind.  *This has got to
be one of the oldest fantasies that I can remember, and I've always
pretended that it doesn't exist.*

Q's arms tightened around him then, and Jean-Luc could feel that
warmth he loved so much envelop him.  *Thank you for letting me be the
one you chose to fulfill it with.*

The priestesses came for them then, and Picard let himself be led away
to the baths.  While he'd bathed with lovers before, he'd never been
bathed by several women at the same time, and he found the experience
to be more soothing than he'd expected.  He was also privately amused
to realize that falling in love with a "man" did nothing to dull his
appreciation of women.  The bath may have been soothing, but that
didn't mean that it wasn't arousing as well.  He was saved by the fact
that the women seemed pleased with what they saw, and that he was
calming down now that things were actually happening.  He found it
oddly exciting to know that somewhere nearby, Q was experiencing the
same things he was, and he made a mental note to ask Q what *he*
thought of having naked priestesses bathe him.

After he'd been bathed and dressed in a comfortable black silk robe,
he was led before the High Priestess and her entourage.  "Would you
like to read through the ritual again?" the Keeper of the Door (whose
name was Thura) asked.  

"Thank you," Picard replied, "but I don't think so.  I've read the
call and response, and I have a pretty good idea of what happens after
that.  

All three women chuckled.  As the High Priestess turned and led him
toward the temple, the poet smiled at Picard.  "You do know, Captain,
that all of us have gone through this ritual as participants?"

"No, I didn't."

"That is why I chose Liajue and Thura to officiate with me this
evening," The High Priestess explained.  "The timing of such a
ceremony is an organic thing, and while it's one thing to  have seen
such a ritual, it is another to have actually experienced one."

"Rather like an emergency drill and the real emergency," Picard said.

"Only more fun," Thura said.

When Picard reached the main sanctuary of temple, he was almost
overwhelmed by the beauty of it.  There was no altar, just an elevated
dais on which rested a comfortable mound of pillows.  As he was seated
on one side, on a pillow, he looked across to see Q being led in to
sit on a pillow at the other side of the dais.  To Picard's surprise,
once he was seated, the seemingly unflappable entity was pleating and
unpleating the hem of his robe.  All of Picard's nervousness vanished
then as he realized that Q was nervous, probably on his behalf.  He
smiled serenely at his lover, and Q's hands stilled.

Now calm, Picard could look out at the audience.  They too were seated
on pillows and for the moment seemed to be talking in cheerful,
although low, voices.  The sanctuary walls were painted with an
abstract design of warm earth tones that were enlivened with the same
sun motif from Picard's bedroom picked out in gold and dark red.  The
pillows were in the same colors and the reds and golds echoed the
attire of the three officiating priestesses.  The wall behind the dais
was covered with a dark red curtain on which was embroidered a gold
sunface, reflecting the light from the candles and torches.  Jean-Luc
felt a comforting warmth that echoed the warmth he loved feeling from
Q.  Once more he looked across the dais.  When his eyes met Q's,
Picard was amazed that the audience didn't see the spark that seemed
to jump between them.  Smiling, Jean-Luc returned to his contemplation
of the sanctuary. 

Off in an alcove that Picard was certain provided the correct
acoustics was an ensemble of musicians, and Picard even thought he
recognized the lead dojir player from the orchestra that had played on
the night he met Q.  He could certainly see people he recognized in
the audience, although here, as elsewhere, the Anoni did not conform
to any sort of rigid hierarchical custom.  The Elected and her husband
were sitting off to one side and Picard saw many of the officials he'd
met scattered throughout the hall.  

Just as Picard was thinking that the whole thing felt more like a
festival rather than a religious rite, the High Priestess strode to
the edge of the dais.  The room immediately hushed and the musicians
began to play.  To Picard's ears, Anoni music sounded like an odd
mixture of traditional Terran Middle Eastern music and Andorian Court
Music.  It was clear and beautiful without being overwhelming, and it
suited the temple and Picard's own mood perfectly.

The High Priestess held out her arms in the Anoni gesture of welcome,
and everyone, Picard and Q included, responded with the same gesture. 
"Neeva," she said, turning to Picard.  His response was to say his own
name to the nearest person, who happened to be Thura.  

The ripple of response moved through the sanctuary, as the audience
said their names to their neighbors until Q looked up at the High
Priestess and said, "Q."  Picard shivered slightly, wondering why it
was that one letter spoken in that rich voice could do so much to his
senses.

"This evening," the High Priestess said, her voice easily carrying
through the sanctuary, "we are present under one roof to celebrate
that which is the root of all Life, that which is the root of all Joy,
that which is the root of all Art.  We celebrate Love."

"Love," the response came from the audience, and Picard felt the word
wash over him.  He was grateful that Q had rendered the question of
what to do with the universal translator unnecessary by snapping his
fingers and granting his lover the gift of understanding Anoni.

Jean-Luc looked at Q again and their eyes locked, another surge of
heat passing between them.  Picard could feel that heat settle in his
lap and tingle all over his body.  As he and Q stared at one another,
Jean-Luc lost the thread of the ceremony, until a waft of spicy sweet
smoke drifted across his field of vision.  Thrua had lit the incense
as Liajue walked to the golden cord that would open the curtain behind
the dais.  As one, the audience rose to their feet, Picard and Q along
with them.  Even the musicians ceased playing to stand, and the High
Priestess turned to the far wall.  Liajue pulled the cord.  

"Behold!" the High Priestess' voice rang out in the silent temple.  "The
Faces of the Spirit that Created the Universe."

The curtain drew back to reveal a golden mirror.  Picard saw himself
reflected back, surrounded by the nimbus of light created by  the
torches and candles, and he instinctively looked for Q in the mirror. 
He supposed that to the audience the entity looked no brighter than
everyone else, but to Jean-Luc Q shone like a sun.  *They'll see
everything we do reflected in that mirror,* Picard thought, and almost
swayed at the resulting surge of arousal.

"Jean-Luc," the High Priestess called, and Thura led Picard forward to
her.  She had turned to face the audience again and when she called
out, "Q," Liajue brought Q to stand at her other side.  She backed up
slightly until Q and Jean-Luc were facing one another.  "Do you see
the face of Love before you?"

"Yes" they replied together.  As the ritual required, Picard stretched
his arms out in front of him, palms forward, and Q mirrored his
actions until their palms touched.

"Before us we see Love," the Priestess said, now addressing the
audience.  "That which is the root of all Life, the root of all Joy,
the root of all Art."

"Before us we see Love," the words came back.  As the audience
repeated the rest of the litany, Jean-Luc stepped forward slowly,
almost moaning as Q did the same thing, and their wrists were now
pressed together.  They kept moving closer to one another, until,
having dropped their arms to their sides, they stood pressed up
against one another, still palm-to-palm.

"Jean-Luc and Q have come to this place, in this time, and found each
other.  In so doing they have found Love and they are brighter for it.
 Now with true generosity they share their brightness with us, that we
too may become brighter with their Love."  
And with those words, the High Priestess stepped back to one side of
the dais, Liajue and Thura moving with her, until they reached a
separate pile of pillows.  When they sat, the audience sat.  The
choreographed part of the ritual was over.  Now all that remained was
the substance of the ritual.  

For a long moment, knowing no hurry, Picard and Q stared into the
other's beloved eyes and simply felt what they felt for each other.

*Do you really trust me this much, Mon Capitaine?"

Tears actually pricked Picard's eyes at the nickname.  He wondered if
he would hear Q call him that forever.

*I do, Mon Bien-Aimé.*

Q smiled then and slowly bent his head, allowing their lips to meet in
a kiss that seemed a perfect expression of all the bright love the
Anoni ceremony was designed to celebrate.  It explored only the
surface at first, delicate and gentle, indeed, almost ceremonial in
itself.

And then Picard opened his mouth and ran his tongue along those
perfect lips and felt them open.  With a moan, he slipped his tongue
inside that warmth and felt Q's strong arms encircle him even as he
wrapped his own arms around the tall, firm body of his lover.  Pressed
against each other, they could feel their partner's stirring erection,
and as it truly hit Picard that he was growing excited in preparation
to being penetrated and brought to climax in front of an audience that
would approve of what they saw, he gasped into Q's mouth and was
pulled even closer.  Q's tongue, rough and insistent, plundered him,
explored him, while he probed with equal fierceness, wanting to melt
inside Q, wanting to be close.

And then it began to happen.  Picard began to feel the difference of
this place, the eyes upon him, the focused attention and the
collective joy that was all centered on him and Q.  Q's hands were
moving over his lower back, and now they dropped lower, pressing and
caressing through the black cloth.  Then, as the entity moved to grind
his erection against Picard's, the hands quickly gathered up the cloth
and exposed the man's rear.  Q's warm touch now smoothed over the
exposed skin, and Picard groaned, his lips leaving Q's as his head
fell back with the pleasure of it.  The audience made no noise, and
yet their presence somehow echoed Picard's soft sounds, and when Q
smoothly removed the entire robe from Jean-Luc's golden body, there
was just the slightest ripple of movement:  a gathered sigh of
pleasure and happiness.

Q stepped back from him, leaving him aroused and on display.  The
captain couldn't help but see himself in the mirror, and beyond the
torch-lit glow of his skin there were the women and men of the Anoni
homeworld watching and accepting.

And yet all their eyes were only an echo of the gaze which truly
burned Jean-Luc.  Q's brown eyes were raking his form, up and down,
hungrily and yet with reverence.  Q moved, tossing the black garment
to the floor and slowly circling Picard, who could only stand there
and be admired.  He could see Q as the entity paused behind him,
staring at his back, his ass, his legs.  He watched as Q moved to
stand right against him, running light caresses up and down his arms
with just his fingertips as that incredible mouth was lowered to
nibble on his right ear.

*Oh, hurry, my love.*

*I thought you were nervous, that you weren't sure.*

*I'm sure.  Bend me over right now and take me.*

While Q seemed to consider this, his tongue now trailing lightly the
contours of his ear, Picard moved back just slightly, pressing his
backside against Q's erection in an obvious invitation.

But in response Q moved away from him, and Picard would have felt
bereft if it were not for the expression on Q's face he could see so
clearly reflected.  Q moved to the end of the platform and quickly
returned with a bowl made of burnished gold.  Q set the bowl down near
Picard's feet, and then dipped his hands in it.  As the man suspected,
his hands shined brightly as Q raised them, covered in a lightly
fragrant oil.  Q rose to stand behind him again, then reached around
his body and placed his warm, oiled hands on Picard's chest, one over
each pectoral muscle.  For a moment, he simply stood there.

"You're so beautiful," Q said in a voice that carried clearly over the
soft rhythms of the music.  "A poem made of flesh that by some miracle
I get to press to the center of my consciousness."  Q's hands began to
move now, slowly, in circles, covering that sculpted chest with the
oil.  Every few moments, Q would reach down to return his hands to the
bowl, working over his lover's skin, covering each inch of him -- his
arms, his legs, his back, his buttocks, his face, behind his ears,
between his toes, every inch -- with the fragrant ointment.

"I love you," Picard said in the same clear voice Q had used.  Q was
smoothing the oil over his calves at the time, kneeling before him,
and Q responded simply and adroitly by lifting his head and kissing
the tip of the man's penis.  Jean-Luc gasped, loudly.

"Would you like me to do that again?"

"Yes, please."  The thought of everyone watching as Q put his mouth on
him almost made him come.

"So beautiful," Q murmured as his hands went again to the backs of
Picard's legs and rubbed in more oil.  "Then say you love me again."

"I love you!  I have never loved anything, anyone as I love you!"

Q smiled and then stuck out his tongue and licked the man's weeping
cock from the base to the tip, then back again, while Picard swayed
and called his lover's name.  Again and again he was licked and
kissed, and then just when Picard thought he would have to beg for
more, Q raised his hands to the man's ass, pressed him in tight,
opened his mouth, and took Picard in all the way.

Picard wasn't sure how he kept from coming.  Perhaps it was the
knowledge of those eyes on him, or perhaps it was simply that he could
not stand the idea of this pleasure ending.  He bent over, his hands
on Q's curved back, and allowed a low keen of bliss to escape.

"So good.  You feel so good," Picard groaned, the words a shallow
indicator of the ecstasy around his throbbing cock.  That rough tongue
was at work again as the mouth sucked, and the man was only dimly
aware that Q's hands momentarily left his buttocks and then returned
with more oil.  Q's fingers began to make patterns around his ass,
moving closer and closer to his cleft.

And then a long finger teased the entrance there, and a hot rush shot
through Picard's body.

A full second passed before the man realized he hadn't come.  Q had
one hand now wrapped around the base of his erection, preventing
ejaculation.  Picard groaned, shuddered, and then felt the urge to
climax recede slightly.  Q nodded and smiled (actions reflected in the
mirror and in the audience's faces).

*God, this is so perfect!*

*Is it, Jean-Luc?*

"This is so perfect!  *You're* so perfect!"

Q slid Picard inside his mouth again, as the finger which had teased
him before applied just the needed pressure to slip inside.  Picard
found it getting harder and harder to stand.  His trembling wracked
him as Q finger-fucked him and sucked hard.  He spread his legs and
used all he had to keep from thrusting, and then Q rubbed that spot
inside him and again had to use his other hand to keep Picard from
coming.

As soon as the deep shudders from the suppressed orgasm stopped,
Picard reached between his own legs and grabbed Q's wrist, holding
those fingers inside himself.  "Hurry," he urged.  "Hurry, please. 
I've got to have you inside me now.  I want to look at you and know
you're inside me."

Q shuddered and nodded, and Picard let go of his wrist.  Q removed his
hand and put his arms above his head as the man ripped off his robe. 
Then the entity scrambled to his feet and quickly retrieved a large,
flat pillow upon which he guided Picard.  The man couldn't help
noticiQ positioned him so that the Anoni would still see
everything, and in looking almost furtively around Picard saw himself
in the mirror.

He was a curio on a velvet pillow in a display case...a sex toy
sprawled out for his user's pleasure...

END PART EIGHT

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:36:40 1997
Path: news2.ispnews.com!news1.ispnews.com!newspeer.monmouth.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW: To Tell the Q 9/10 (TNG, P/Q)
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:36:40 GMT
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Message-ID: <19971214073600.CAA29619@ladder02.news.aol.com>
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Xref: news2.ispnews.com alt.fan.q:1045

To Tell the Q
9/10 disclaimers in 1/10

"...my lover waiting for his lover to fuck him," Q said in a voice
deep and rough with desire as he knelt between Picard's open legs.  He
put his hands on the man's thighs, rubbing that oiled slickness. 
"Touch your nipples for me, spread your legs wider, and tell me what
you want."

His hands were shaking, and his voice as rough as Q's, but he brought
his fingers to his own pale nubs and caressed himself, spreading his
legs out as far as he could, offering himself to Q in front of these
witnesses who could *see* his need, his love.  And there was no fear,
no hesitation, only the waiting for Q to fill him up.

"Fuck me, Q.  Gently, at first, then harder and harder until I come,
shouting your name, loving you and feeling you love me."

"I don't deserve you," Q said quietly as he pushed those legs back
against Picard's chest and moved forward, using an oiled hand to place
just the tip of his cock at that tight opening his fingers and
caresses had loosened.  "I don't deserve to fuck you, but you're mine
and I'm taking you."

"Forever...whenever...wherever, my love."

Q nodded, locking his eyes onto Picard's, their gaze holding as the
entity began to push into that warmth, his powers discretely adding
more oil, all that was needed to keep the pain away, stretching and
burning only enough for the man to know he was truly being entered and
filled.

*Your lovely cock is inside my body.*  Picard's head lolled back,
though he did not quite break that gaze into Q's eyes, and he moaned
and shuddered with the pleasure of it.  Slowly, Q continued to slide
inside him, disappearing into that golden form, being burned by that
intimate connection.

Q shuddered again, whispering, "Oh, I knew it was going to be good,
but still I had no idea.  Oh, look at you letting me fuck you."  Q
broke their gaze just for an instant to devour the image his cock was
sinking inside, then those brown warm eyes returned to Picard's hazel
stare.  "I love you."  He stopped moving, pressed now as deeply as he
could.  "I'm inside you."

Picard was still for a moment, as the sheer unreality of it all washed
over him.  Instead of subvocalizing his thoughts to himself, or even
trying to think them *at* Q, he spoke them aloud.  "All my life," he
began, speaking carefully, looking all the while into Q's velvet brown
eyes, "I've wanted to be loved and adored.  As long as I've known
about sex I wanted to be loved and adored and fucked...in a place like
this."  He threw his arms out to his sides and smiled up at Q.  "Fuck
me, Q."

"Forever," Q promised.  He moved slowly, withdrawing until his cock
almost left Picard and then sliding all the way back in and then again
and again.  Picard could feel the pressure of Q inside him, could feel
the thickness and fullness of Q's cock inside his ass and he wondered
how he'd ever been afraid of something so incredible.  

"So good..." he groaned, "...feels so good...I'm so full of you..."

"Oh yes," Q replied, sliding in with that smooth stroke that Picard
was already certain wasn't enough.  "So hot...so tight around me...I'm
surrounded by you and your love..."  As much as Picard tried to speed
Q up with his motions, Q refused to be rushed.  It was wonderful, it
was perfect, and it was sheer agony.  Some part of him knew that the
longer he had to wait, the better the climax would be, but there was a
greedy, demanding part of him that wanted to come *now.*

Q bent over him then and started kissing his neck, never losing the
slow, steady rhythm.  Picard turned his head in order to give Q better
access and suddenly saw the mirror.  He'd almost forgotten his
surroundings, and now he stared at the mirror, trying to absorb as
much of what he saw as possible.  

He saw himself, golden and gleaming, sprawled out on the cushions, his
legs pulled back toward his chest.  It felt like an extremely
undignified position, and he'd expected that it would look silly. 
Instead he looked exactly as he felt:  like a willing sacrifice,
spread out and offering himself up to that Love the High Priestess had
spoken of.  "You," he breathed out, looking into the mirror, "are
Love."  Q moaned and went back to resting his weight on his hands,
looking down at Jean-Luc.

Instead of looking back at Q, Picard kept looking in the mirror.  He
could see Q, moving carefully, and he was awed by the slow
deliberation of his lover's movements.  Jean-Luc watched Q, delighting
in seeing as well as feeling the obvious care that Q was taking, and
his concern that the experience be as good and last as long as
possible.  Q's very care and precision were yet another offering both
to that Love and to his lover, and Jean-Luc pulled his legs back
further, accepting this act of devotion and adoration for what it was.
 Q responded by speeding up.  He still wasn't moving as fast as Picard
wanted him to, but the man had given up trying to control this
experience. 

Picard had been sighing and gasping, but now he started moaning as the
feeling of Q's cock inside him moved him to a new level of
frustration.  The sound of his own moans were somehow intoxicating
and, feeling something give inside him, Jean-Luc began to make more
noise. 

Wondering what the audience was thinking, he opened his eyes (which he
didn't really remember closing) and turned his head until he was
looking out at the sanctuary.  "Oh!" he exclaimed as he saw all those
eyes focused on himself.  He did not feel at all like a performer, but
rather like some form of kinetic art.  That little part of his mind
that worked most of the time dredged up an old definition of art as
being a created work that evokes a strong emotion in the observer. 
*I'm Art,* he thought, looking at the rapt expressions on those Anoni
he could see closely.  The High Priestess and her two fellow
priestesses looked at him with wide eyes, awe on their faces, and
Picard knew that they were seeing their religion made manifest.  At
first he wasn't sure if he and Q were evoking any other emotion from
the priestesses, but then he realized that all three of them were
breathing rather quickly.  Thura was biting her lower lip, and the
High Priestess was obviously trying to blink as rapidly as possible so
as not to miss anything.  Looking back at the audience, he saw the
same sort of things.  *I'm erotic Art,* he amended his earlier thought.

"You're...the most...erotic Art...in the galaxy..." Q said aloud. 
Picard felt a flash of guilt that he'd been so busy concentrating on
the audience that he hadn't been looking at his lover.  *You can look
at me anytime,* Q said in his head.  *Go ahead, look at them, look at
the mirror.  See all those people?*

"Yes!" Picard cried out.

*They're watching me fuck you.  They're watching you all spread out
beneath me, and every one of them is aroused.  And it's all because
you're getting fucked, because I'm loving you here in this temple
while they watch.*

"Ohhhh...please..." Picard panted.  "Please...more...harder...oh,
Q...love...need you...need all...of you..."

Q stopped, his cock buried in Picard's ass.  "All of me?"

"Yes!  Love me...and feel...me...loving you...taking you...deep inside
me..."

Q slowly withdrew and, for a moment, all Picard could feel was an
emptiness, not only in his body, which wanted Q's cock so badly it
almost hurt, but in all of him.  And then Q moved back inside him, a
hard, pounding stroke.  Jean-Luc yelled, feeling the sweet ache of the
physical pleasure meld with that incredible warmth.  Q's heat pervaded
him, surrounded him, and Jean-Luc reveled in it.  Somehow he knew that
Q was feeling much the same from him, and the thought made him cry out
in ecstasy. 

As if the cry encouraged Q, the entity once more picked up speed. 
"Love you...love you...love you..." he chanted, his voice rough with
emotion, his eyes wet with tears.  Picard, who was already too
consumed with pleasure to reply, felt his own tears well up, and he
stared into Q's shining eyes, knowing that the love he felt was
visible on his face.

*You're mine,* Picard managed to think at Q.  *My lover, my sun god
lover, so hot, so good...*

*Yes,* Q replied.   *And you, you're mine.  My lover, my beautiful
lover, passion and strength personified.  You're so bright that you
burn me as I move in you; fucking you is like fucking the heart of a
star.*

"Then...fuck me!" Picard screamed.  He wrapped his legs around Q and
felt himself open up more, take more of Q inside him.  And Q gave him
more, harder and faster, until Picard could feel nothing but heat and
light.

The feelings built up higher and higher, like a firestorm out of
control.  Picard's world was flame and heat now.  His lover was flame,
fucking him, burning him with that sweet ecstasy.  The eyes of the
audience burned him as well; he could feel the bright heat of their
regard washing over him in shimmering waves.  And he himself was
flame, the bright heart of a star, nothing but this-all consuming fire
that was met and matched by Q's flame.  Dimly he could hear both their
cries and growls, but he was so consumed by the fire that he no longer
knew whose voice was whose.  And it didn't matter.  When flame met
flame, who needed to know the flames apart?

They were flame now, both of them the living heart of their own star. 
"Ecstasy" was too pale a word, "joy" was too commonplace a term:  this
was Love, and in a sudden rush of surrender that he knew was matched
by Q's, Jean-Luc gave in to the heat and the light and the fire of
that love.  He opened himself up to the flame, and, screaming and
sobbing, he let himself be consumed by it.  As he came, he could feel
himself arching in ecstasy, could feel his hands tightening around Q's
arms, could feel the liquid fire pouring out of him.  And then Q was
pouring his own liquid fire into Jean-Luc, and that physical wave of
heat was matched and overshadowed by the waves of love that poured
over Jean-Luc, filling his heart with heat just as Q's heat filled his
body.  One last cry, one last burst of fire, and then the light
overcame Jean-Luc, and he fell into it.  As he felt consciousness
slipping away, he heard his name in Q's mind and knew that he
responded in the same way, and then there was nothing.  

Many long minutes Picard lay there under Q.  The entity held him,
easing out gently, trying to get his own breathing under control,
trying not to burst into frantic sobs, trying to accept what had
happened.  The audience watched quietly.  The ceremony wasn't done.

Some tears did escape, and his breathing was still ragged when Picard
opened his eyes.  His lips curved into an almost childlike smile as he
sighed:  "Q.  My lover.  I'm still warm inside where you were."

And Q lost it.  Sobbing loudly, he pulled Jean-Luc tightly to him. 
*This is so perfect.  I must be imagining this.  Qs imagine...you
don't know...this may be just some fantasy I've lost myself in.*

"I'm real, Q," Picard soothed, his hands running over Q's body,
through his hair, over and over that warmth and gentle strength. 
"We're both real.  Being together is real.  Your having been inside
me:  that's real."  The man took one of Q's hands and placed it at the
entrance to his body, still wet with Q's cum.  "And you can be inside
me whenever you like...although," Picard's eyes sparkled mischief, "if
I'm on duty I'd appreciate it if you'd let me get somewhere private
first.  I don't think my crew would make as good an audience as the
Anoni."

Q's eyes were drier now, and he smiled in a way that made Picard's
heart thud unevenly.  Then, cupping Jean-Luc's backside, he lowered
his head and kissed his lover, and it was so full of love they both
threatened to start crying again.

As perfect, quiet, and still as the audience was, Picard and Q felt
all those eyes on them and ended the kiss before sitting up together. 
This signal broke the concentrated attention.  Liajue and Thura came
forward with hot towels while Neeva stood and addressed the
congregation:

"The witnessing of Love blesses all.  The thanks we owe our guests for
sharing their love with us goes beyond words, beyond gifts."

And then the audience began to break up.  Picard and Q were paying
more attention to the priestesses who were so gently and expertly
cleaning them off.  Q bit his lip when he saw the faint traces of
blood on one of the towels used to clean Picard, but the man only
smiled smugly at him.

Neeva walked over to them when Liague and Thura were done and the
towels were put to the side.  Picard and Q stood up to great her and
shrugged carefully into the black silk robes the priestesses held for
them.

"We will eat something together.  You may choose for yourselves, of
course, if you wish to complete the ritual with the hod'an."

Picard's confusion was soothed away by Q's mental explanation.  *It's
a sort of tattoo, though their application methods aren't painful. 
Don't worry, Starfleet captains don't usually mark themselves up.  I
don't mind your turning it down.*

"I would appreciate being able to participate in your ritual fully,"
Picard told Neeva with a smile.  The expression was obscured somewhat
as Q grabbed him for a deep kiss.  The women waited, smiling little
pleased smiles of their own, until the lovers were done.  

Neeva met Picard's eyes.  "You glow so brightly," she said, then
looked at Q.  "Both of you do.  No one who was here today will forget
the sight of your joining.  Many a couple here will take inspiration,
I should think."

Now Q looked smug and Picard blushed just a bit, even though he knew
her potentially snide comment was quite sincere.

"Does the hod'an occur before or after supper?" Picard asked.

"Before, if you would like."

Picard nodded, and Q took his hand, holding on tight and filling him
with confidence and pleasure, as the five of them walked to a small
chamber door in the far temple wall.  Neeva opened the door and led
them all into a clean white room with several instruments on a single
table in the center.  Thura and Liajue both took one of the
instruments and knelt before Picard and Q.

"If you would remove your robes," Neeva instructed gently.

The lovers complied, and stood there in the quiet room as the
priestesses quickly drew the permanent markings on their right hips. 
Q looked down to watch Thura work, and so Picard did the same with
Liajue.  It wasn't ostentatious:  just two linked circles, the meaning
of which was obvious, in blue-black.

Picard wanted to examine Q's marking, but knew better than to look
over to that naked body right now.  He really did *not* want to become
aroused while Liajue knelt at his feet.

In only a few minutes, the priestesses were done.  They both stood,
looked at each other's work with ceremonial bows, then embraced and
kissed each other on both cheeks in an almost French fashion.  Picard
smiled, so pleased he forgot to keep his eyes off Q.

*Ohhhhh.*  The mental sigh was joined by a deeply in-drawn breath.  Q
looked like his sun god again, standing in the light of that clean,
white room.  And his eyes fell to Q's hip and the small mark there.

*I will wear it always, Jean-Luc,* Q swore, and Picard could *feel*
the vow in those words.  *On my hip, in my heart, in my mind...*

A soft rustle distracted them both, but it was only the three women
leaving quietly through the door, granting the lovers the privacy they
had forgone for the Anoni ritual. 

Picard waited for the door to shut.

Three long strides brought him to Q, and then his strong hands took
hold of Q and his arms turned his lover around and pushed him over
that white table, which, the captain had noticed, was just the right
height for this.  He kissed patterns on Q's back and used his fingers
gently to prepare him.

Q moved with him easily, arching his back and spreading his legs while
warm oil covered Jean-Luc's erection and his fingers, and while they
were both instantly aroused, there was no hurry.  They were still both
so high, so full of love and warmth, that to join this way seemed no
elevation of feeling, only an expression of it.

Smoothly, Picard slid into the tight space he had prepared, closing
his eyes with the bliss of it.  For a long moment he lay across Q's
back, his penis inside Q's body, his hands on his skin, his mind and
heart full of nothing but thoughts and feelings for his lover.

His lover...

"Are we mated now, Q?  In your eyes?"

Q sighed.

"I'm not asking about forever," the man added quickly.

"I know."

"I just mean for now."

"I know.  But I'm a Q, and I think in terms of eternity."

Picard frowned, unable to keep himself from turnnig his head to kiss
the back which supported him.  "I don't care.  I'll take whatever part
of you you'll give me.  I just want to give you all of myself."

Q sighed again.  "So brave...Jean-Luc, I've belonged to you since you
kissed me.  We'll figure out what that means as it comes, whether we
spend eternity together as human and Q, or some combination of both,
or whatever it means.  If you need to die, I can go there with you, if
that's what you want..."

"I don't know..."

"Neither do I.  We don't have to right now.  All I know for sure is
that you're the one I've been looking for and I can't ever let you go."

Picard moved slightly inside Q, gentle as a lover's first kiss.  "I
will never want to leave."

Q groaned at the sensations Picard gave him and then continued making
noise as his lover began to pump him, smoothly, forcefully, deeply
inside his body.  Again their euphoria changed the experience.  They
did not build to a frenzy, nor attempt to hold back any pleasure. 
When Picard felt his climax approaching, he reached around Q's body
and found his erection pressed into the table.  He stroked it softly,
and they both came, their quiet cries mingling.  

When they stood, Q snapped his fingers to clean them and the table up,
his smile a little embarrassed.

"You'll need to get used to that," Picard told him, retrieving their
robes from the floor and handing the longer one to Q.  "I will not be
responsible for my tidiness whenever you're around me."

Q put his robe on and watched as Picard covered himself.

"Are there lots of rooms on your ship where we could fuck?"

Picard smiled.  "Hundreds."  Suddenly, the man frowned.  "I'm starving."

Thura was waiting for them a little way down the hall.  She smiled at
the blush that washed across Picard's face at the thought of what he
and Q had been doing while she waited.  "It's odd, isn't it?  I'd seen
the Ceremony of Love several times and I had no problem with making
love to Rayata in the temple.  Afterwards, we stayed in that room a
lot longer than you two did, and when I came out, I couldn't even look
Neeva in the eye."

"Rayata is your spouse?" Q asked, as they walked down the hall. 

"For over two years now.  We performed the Ceremony a year before we
got married."  She looked at them curiously.  "Will you two marry?"

"I'm not sure we need to," Picard replied.  "Not after this."  He
would have said more, but he suddenly felt dizzy.  Q took his arm and
looked alarmed, but Thura remained calm.

"You need to eat, to ground yourself."

And, indeed, she was right.  The meal with Neeva and Thura was relaxed
and comfortable, and the conversation rambled on from subject to
subject.  Picard noticed the absence of wine with relief; he couldn't
even imagine what alcohol would do to his system.  He was still high
from the ceremony, and looking at Q wasn't helping matters.  Although
Q still looked like a human in every way, he also seemed, to Picard,
to be faintly outlined with fire.  It was like seeing something out of
the corner of his eye and then turning to find it gone.  It was a
rather disconcerting sensation and, toward the end of the meal, he
mentally asked Q about it.

*You're seeing some of my energy,* Q replied.  *You picked up the fire
image from the ritual and your own perception of me as a source of
warmth, and now, because we're growing closer together, I'm becoming
what you see.*

*You're visibly changing because of me?*

*Look at yourself, Jean-Luc.  Your Dr. Crusher was astonished
yesterday at how often you smiled during lunch.  We're changing, my
love.*

*I don't know why, but I like that idea.*

*So do I,* Q replied.  He looked Jean-Luc in the eye then and for a
moment they simply stared at each other.  Picard could feel Q's warmth
from across the table, and suddenly he wanted to be wrapped up in his
lover.  He wasn't sure he wanted sex, although he imagined that seeing
Q take that robe off would change his mind, but he wanted to be *with*
Q, and Q alone.  

Even as he wondered when it would be appropriate for them to make
their exit, Neeva rose from the table.  "We have rooms prepared for
you here in the temple, or, if you wish, you may return to the
government center."

"Q?"

"I think spending the night here would be perfect."

And so, they soon found themselves in a comfortable suite of rooms. 
Before they could do much more than look at each other, someone tapped
quietly on the door.  "We gave at the office," Q muttered.  Jean-Luc
looked at him curiously, and Q added, "Long story."

Shaking his head, Picard went to the door.  A young priestess smiled
shyly at him and handed him an envelope.  "Thank you," Picard replied,
and she ducked her head and then vanished down the hall.  

Picard looked at the envelope as he closed the door.  Q came up behind
him to look over his shoulder.  "Our names," he said, "in Anoni."

Picard carefully opened the envelope and found two pieces of parchment
inside.  Both had very little writing on them, and one was written in
Standard, and he suddenly smiled as he looked at the bottom of it. 
There, signed in an awkward script, was the name "Liajue."  

"She had it translated and printed," he said to Q, "but she signed it
herself."

"Looks like she wrote the copy that's in Anoni herself," Q said.  

*A fire which burns our eyes
yet warms our hearts
as you gift us with the sight of 
the heart of your star.*

Q read the poem aloud in Anoni and Picard sighed.  He still understood
Anoni, and the poem flowed much better in its author's native tongue. 
The captain leaned back against his lover, a little overwhelmed at the
sound of that rich voice reading poetry to him.  "You have such a
lovely voice," he said.  "How did she pick up that "heart of your
star" image?  I was thinking that toward the end there."

"I know," Q replied.  "She may be sensitive enough to have picked it
up, or it could be one of those artistic coincidences.  It doesn't
matter; it's a lovely poem."

"A cyvel," Picard said, feeling a little dreamy.  "Q?"

"Hmmm..."

"I think I'm rather tired."

"That," the entity said into Picard's ear, "would explain why you're
leaning on me."  His breath did disturbing things to Picard's senses,
and the man chuckled quietly.  

"No, I'm leaning on you because I like the feel of your cock against
my ass."  He paused.  "And because I'm tired."

He was tired enough that he was never sure later how he got to the
bed.  All he knew was that he was once more surrounded in the warmth
he loved from Q.  Not only did Q's heat envelop him, but after a
moment or two, his lover's warm mouth was surrounding his penis.  He
wanted to do something for Q, but Q mentally told him to be selfish
and Picard willingly complied.  *I'll make it up to you,* he thought
as Q brought him closer to the edge.   When he climaxed, it was a
quiet orgasm, and he tumbled easily into sleep almost instantly
afterward.  *Love you,* he thought drowsily.

*And I love you, Jean-Luc."
 
Picard snuggled against his lover's warmth and thought again that it
was all too good to be true.  His sleep covered him, as warm and solid
as the entity he adored, and when he awoke, Q was there, staring into
his eyes with a love hot as a fire.

Picard smiled and pulled Q close in a kiss that shared the fire they
made.  And everything was so real.

Only in pulling back to stare at Q's eyes did the captain notice they
were back on his ship.

"What are we..."  Picard never finished the question.  Instead, he
realized he knew the answer.

Q.  Once his enemy, his tormentor, his fear, then his strange ally,
then, only then, somehow, his lover, and the entity he loved.

Sharp, piercing sadness, cold and painful beyond ice and beyond
injury.  Ambassador Q was only a dream, a made-up version of his
lover.  There were no Anoni women who understood his love, no Anoni
audience who had watched Q fuck him, no burning like the sun, no heart
of the star, no starwalk and sweeping off Q's purple duster before
they fell into bed and touched each other with a sweetness unsurpassed
in a universe of sweetness.

He could not see Q's expression, as vision was blurred and spotted
with the prisms of tears, but Picard knew Q was sharing his
disappointment with equal depth.  The man's bare arms tightened around
his naked lover, sad to think that Q was being hurt.  

What must it be like for him? Picard wondered, completly distracted
from his own concerns.  The entity had years of Picard's dislike to
remember now, years of not being welcome on this ship.  The captain
almost cried out in pain as he remembered Q's offer to join the
Enterprise crew and the cold manner in which Picard had turned him
down.  

"To learn about you is frankly provacative."  The memory of his own
deep voice mocked him.  "But you're next of kin to chaos."

How could he have known then that Q loved him?  How could he have
known what it felt like to be penetrated and filled with that love? 
How could he have known what it felt like to make love to Q, to be
inside that energy and that warmth and know Q wanted him there
forever?  Even now that it was all a lie...

*No,* Picard thought, hoping Q would hear him.  *It wasn't a lie.  I
love you.  You love me.  The setting was a dream, but what we shared
wasn't.*

Q didn't answer, and Picard was blinking furiously to clear his eyes. 
Q's head was buried in the space between his neck and shoulder, and
those incredibly strong and warm arms were holding tight around him,
and the body he so loved...that was shaking, just slightly.  Picard
realized his heart was about to break.

"I love you, Q," he said loudly, intensely.  "Do you hear me?  I love
you."

Q held him tighter.  He found he could hardly breathe.

*My love?* Picard asked, concerned to the point of being fightened. 
*Q?  Please, tell me.  Show me.*

And as the body in his arms shuddered violently, Picard suddenly felt
a different sort of fear, a coldness in his lover amongst the warmth
he adored:  Q was terrified.

With a growl, Picard rolled them both until Q lay on his back and
Jean-Luc straddled him.  He placed his hands to the side of Q's face
and stared into those dark brown eyes with a gaze now quite clear.

"I'm real, Q," he stated as flatly as he could.  "Do you hear me?  I'm
not some dream you haven't broken free from.  I'm real."  He grabbed
Q's right hand and held it to his chest, both of them feeling the even
beat of Picard's mechanical heart.  "Do you feel that?  Do you feel
me?  I'm real."

Q only shuddered harder and closed his eyes.  Picard dimly heard the
thought:  *Too cruel.*

And as concerned as he was, as frightened and earnest and shaken as he
was, Picard laughed.  It was an absurd exchange of positions.

And then Picard lost the meager certainty he had acquired.  

*What if all this is a dream?  What if I'm still Ayun's prisoner,
waiting to be tortured or freezing to death in a Changeling cell?*

Q's eyes flew open and locked on to his, and with the simple warmth
from that desperate gaze, Picard knew he wasn't alone in a cell.  

"Jean-Luc?"

"God, I love you, Q," Picard groaned, lowering his head for another
kiss, a new sort of kiss, a promise of a new sort of love.  *I don't
know what in the universe is real except you.  And I don't care.  I'm
real and you are real.  That's all I need.  That's all I will ever
need again.*

But instead of responding with love, Q sent out another blind and
painful wave of fear.  Picard easily deciphered the disbelief in it,
and -- thanks to their many talks before they entered the Anoni
fantasy -- just as easily understood.  

Q, as was the way of his people, had made it through his timeless
existence only with the support of fantasy.  When the loneliness and
boredom had overwhelmed him, he had made up a life for himself that
was not solitary.  A countless number of times Q had created lovers
for himself,  shallow and idealized visions which had accepted him for
himself and touched him with desire and held him close without
hesitation.  Ripped from his Anoni dream world, all the more
dream-like for having been of his own making, Q now feared that he had
simply not emerged from the final level of fantasy.  He could not
convince himself that Picard was not a dream, some miraculously
detailed and complex and perfect vision he'd created for himself and
then allowed himself to believe in.

END OF PART NINE

From ensdelk@aol.com Sat Dec 13 23:38:36 1997
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From: ensdelk@aol.com (EnsDelk)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW: To Tell the Q 10/10 (TNG, P/Q)
Date: 14 Dec 1997 07:38:36 GMT
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To Tell the Q
10/10 disclaimers in 1/10


"I'm real, Q," Picard announced, watching as Q kept his eyes closed. 
"Do you hear me?  I'm real!"

*Too cruel* was all he heard as a response.

Time would do it, Picard thought.  In time, Q would realize that while
the Anoni had been false, his lover was not.  Time was definately the
answer.  However, there was a problem:

Picard didn't feel like waiting.

In a simple series of movements, the man threw back the covers, rose
from the bed, and was walking to his replicator.  There, he checked
the time, saw it was only minutes from his duty shift, and keyed in a
simple message to Riker that he wasn't going to be on the bridge
today.  Then he got the replicator to make four long, soft and sturdy
cords as well as a tube of heavy, non-water-soluable lubricant.

As he turned and walked back to the bed, he saw that Q had opened his
eyes and was staring at him suspiciously.  The gaze traveled briefly
down the captain's nude body, seemed to grow in distrust, and returned
to gaze almost with hostility into the man's face.

"So," Picard said with open menace.  "You've decided I'm litterally
too good to be true.  Instead of getting to deal with my own
disappointment that Ambassador Q is actually an entity who keeps
trying to condemn humanity as barbaric, that instead of earning my
trust from the beginning, you had to scrabble for it over several
years, that instead of being honest about what we wanted, you and I
lied to each other and ourselves until we almost managed to destroy my
ship and all of humanity itself before we straightened things out --
instead of all this, I have someone who's had to earn my affection and
my desire and my love laying there thinking I'm not real."

Q obviously forced himself to speak:  "I don't --"

"Oh, shut up," Picard snarled, holding up the ropes as he strode to
Q's side and grabbed his left arm.  "If you think I'm a fantasy, I'm
going to give you what you want and prove I'm real the only way I know
how."

Q watched with large eyes as Picard tied the entity's wrist to the
corner of the bed, looping the cord under and around the bed support. 
The entity was shaking a bit, but the captain could hear his light
gasp.  Whipping off the covers completely, Picard moved on quickly to
Q's left ankle, then his right, and finally his right wrist before
moving to stand a few feet from the foot of the bed.  Bound
spread-eagle, Q stared at him, a frown finally forming between his eyes.

"What are you..?"

"Quiet, Q!  And no powers.  I want you to use none of your powers. 
You're going to feel just how real I am."

Q's wide eyes didn't narrow, but Picard could plainly see the effect
of his words in his lover's groin.  He'd seen his lover's desire for
this sort of treatment --  and exactly how far Q wanted him to go with
it -- at their closest moments.  It wasn't humiliation or pain Q
wanted, it was to be so reliant upon Picard, so vulnerable to him, so
completely dependent on someone outside himself that Q could *know* he
wasn't alone.  It wasn't something Picard had been able to understand
before.  Indeed, the captain hadn't even been able to visualize or
even fully perceive Q's desire for that certainty until he himself had
felt what it meant to doubt everything so completely.

"I'm going to take you past the point of pleasure and into sheer
need," Picard said, his tone making the threat a deep and abiding
promise.  "I'm going to take you just past your own control.  I'm
going to demand more than you think you can give me, and then I'm
going to fuck you so hard you'll know with every thrust of me inside
you that I'm no figment of your imagination."

"Ohhhh," Q moaned, growing quite hard and closing his eyes as his
whole body relaxed into his position.  "Please, Jean-Luc.  Please do
that for me."

The man almost wanted to laugh at himself.  It was easy to say such
things...or at least, it was easier to say them than to do them.  And
yet, he knew Q's body so well now.  Indeed, he seemed to know each
nerve-ending, each sensitive spot, each...

"You're so incredible," Picard breathed, looking over Q's aroused
form.  Stretched out like that, the entity's human body showed off the
firm muscles which held him so close, and again Picard realized he
could see the fire of Q's energy like an aura all around him.

"You look so good," the man continued.  "I'm hard from just looking at
you, do you know that?  It's as if I can see your love for me, your
intelligence that shines as you speak, your wit you so proudly
display, and your compassion you try so hard to hide.  When I think of
how lonely you've been, I want to cry, but when I think of how I'm
going to fill that space inside you with my love, my soul, and my
cock, all I can think of is an enternity of delight we're going to
share."

Q shivered and opened his eyes.  Picard smiled at him and walked
forward until he was standing right next to the bed, his shins
pressing against the side of the mattress.  His erection jutted out at
Q, and those warm brown eyes looked at it.  The fire around him seemed
to change.

"No powers, Q!  None!"

"I was just feeling --"

"Not a one, Q."  Picard smiled more deeply as Q half-suppressed an
almost painful shudder while the fire resumed its normal intensity. 
"I'll know if you cheat, and if you do, I'll stop.  Do you understand
me?"

Q nodded, his back arching slightly.  "Touch me.  Hurry."

Picard crossed his arms and looked Q over.  "I will."

Q groaned, evidently realizing how little control he would have over
this.  It wasn't quite like what he had dreamed...and seemed all the
more real because of it.

"The problem is figuring out where I want to touch you," Picard
continued.  "Your skin is so warm, so perfect, all over your body." 
He leaned forward a bit and trailed a light caress over Q's chest.  Q
moaned.  "Of course, I know soon I'll be touching that incredible cock
of yours, but first, hmm, here are those warm hands I love so much." 
He touched Q's hands, stroking his fingers, pausing to fondle the
cords with an almost wicked smile.  Q moaned softly.  "Your long arms
I want to spend eternity wrapped up in, your sensitive skin along your
sides, your stomach, your hips..."  Picard almost faltered as he noted
the Anoni tattoo still drawn on Q's right hip.  His own hip, he had
already noticed, was bare.  He kept his light touches steady, however,
and Q's continued moaning punctuated his descriptions.  "You said so
many lovely things about my nipples.  Yours are rose-gray and so
receptive to my touch..."  Q cried out, then groaned harshly as Picard
reached down and suckled him, alternating one nipple and then the
other, stroking the hard nubs as well with his fingertips.  The man
was kneeling on the bed now, his perfect body half-covering Q's, and
the entity began to plead softly:

"More, please.  Hurry.  Anything.  More."

"Shhh," Picard hushed softly, then nipped Q's left nipple sharply,
then his right.  Q yelped, yelped again, and strained against the bonds.

"No games," Q pleaded.  "Untie me, please.  I don't like this."

Instantly Picard began to untie the closest cord to him:  the one
binding Q's right hand.

"No," Q said quietly before the first slip-knot was undone.  Picard
stilled and looked into his eyes.  "I do like it."  The words came out
reluctantly, almost hissed.  "Don't stop.  It's not a game, not
really.  I...I need this.  I need you to do whatever you want to me. 
I need to be ignorant of what's coming next...to be surprised..."  Q
flushed red.

"You need me to be in control because you know a creation of your own
fantasy couldn't take control," Picard said in an almost scientific
tone.  Q nodded, not meeting his eyes and looking quite miserable. 
Picard reached down and kissed him lightly.  "I'm not planning to make
a habit of this, Q."

Q's eyes flicked to his and showed in an instant the great relief
Picard's words brought.

"This isn't my fantasy," Jean-Luc went on, moving down and
ever-so-lightly grazing the nipples his teeth had sensitized.  "This
is yours.  In fulfilling it I feel *you're* real, just as you can feel
how real I am."

"I don't want you to hurt me," Q whispered, "but --"

"Hurt you?"  Picard worked to keep his temper in check.  "I couldn't
hurt you, not for the world, not even if you wanted me too."

"I'm sorry!"  Q looked stricken.  "I know you --"

"Shut up," Picard barked, frowning.  He got off the bed, ignoring the
distressed way Q called his name, and went again to the replicator. 
He returned in a moment carrying a bowl of burnished gold in both
hands.  He straddled Q on the bed again and tipped the bowl gently,
spilling warm oil directly over Q's chest.  His lover groaned loudly,
arching into the sensation, and Picard set the bowl to the side before
he began to work the oil all over Q's torso, arms, and legs.

"You loved fucking me in that temple," Picard said between gritted
teeth.  "And I loved feeling you inside me, pounding your cock in my
ass over and over while they all watched us getting ready to come. 
And when I came all over my own chest, they saw, and when you were
buried inside me and we were both screaming and crying, they saw. 
They may not have been real, but *we* are, and they were and are *us.*
 *We* saw each other in the mirror, fucking and feeling everything two
lovers can feel.  I know what it means to be inside your body and to
feel you in mine.  I remember the muscles under my hands.  I remember
this skin of yours, the heat of you that burns me even now.  I -- I
said no powers, Q!"

The fire shifted back as Q wailed, "I'm trying!  Oh!  You're so...I
love you!"

*And I love you,* Picard said into Q's mind as his mouth became busy
nibbling on Q's neck.  Q's erection was poking his stomach, and the
entity began to thrust against him.  Picard forced a light laugh and
moved away, not relenting even as Q moaned in protest.

"Fuck me, hurry, please."  Q pulled against the bonds to spread his
legs wider.  "Your cock is all I want in the universe."

Picard "hmmmed" softly and reached for the tube of lubricant.  Slowly,
as Q watched, he applied some to his fingers.  Smiling, he reached
down between Q's legs and slid his fingers along that cleft before
drawing an oily circle around Q's anus.

"Ohhh," Q said, his head rocking back and forth.  "Stop it
already...just fuck me...what's wrong with you?"

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes!"

"More than anything?"

"Yes!"

Picard nodded, then got off the bed and stood there, staring at Q, his
erection leaking, his body trembling, his eyes forced into glittering
diamonds.

"What...what are you doing?"

"I don't think I'm going to fuck you after all, Q."

"What?!"

Picard put a hand on his hip and shifted his weight as though he were
answering a boring question at a party.  "Well, if I bring you the
sort of pleasure I want to bring you, you'll just convince yourself
I'm not real."

"Picard, come back to this bed and fuck me right now, damnit."

"I really don't know that I should, Q."

"Please.  *Please.*  I'll do whatever you say."  Tears were shining on
Q's cheeks now, and it took everything Picard had to stand there.  He
wasn't even sure he should be doing it this way.  He didn't know that
he would recognize the right moment when it came.

*I don't know what I'm doing,* the man admitted to himself.  *I'm not
good enough.*

"Damnit, Jean-Luc!"  Q's frustrated rage reached him like a slap.  "If
I have to hear you think one more time that you're not good enough,
I'm going to make you the emperor of the universe and cement a crown
to your head!"

"You will, will you?"  He moved to kneel between Q's spread legs.  "So
I'm good enough, am I?"

"Yes!" Q hissed.  "Oh please..."

"Then maybe, just maybe, I'm *real* too."  Picard was fighting to keep
his voice steady.  He wanted to fuck Q as much as Q wanted to be
fucked, but Q hadn't truly accepted that this wasn't a fantasy. 
Picard, on the other hand, knew it wasn't a fantasy.  Nowhere in his
mind was there a fantasy of tying Q to a bed like this.  Also, if this
were a fantasy, he wouldn't be so worried.  Shoving the worry aside,
he reached down and began to stroke Q's cock.  

"Please," Q whimpered, and Picard steeled himself and shook his head. 
"Oh, please...Jean-Luc...fuck me..."

Jean-Luc used all of his will not to give in to Q's begging.  He
wanted to, but if he did, then how would Q know that this was real? 
He sped up his strokes, noticing that, although Q wanted to be fucked,
he certainly wasn't minding being masturbated.  "You want to come,"
Picard asked, "with me inside you?"

"Yes...damnit!"

"With my cock buried inside you, fucking you until you don't know
anything else?"

"YES!"  Q was truly struggling now, his body arching and moving against
his bonds.  He was also moving so that his cock thrust into Jean-Luc's
slick hand.  Picard reached out with his other hand and pinched one of
Q's nipples.

"Well, too bad," he said as Q gasped and hovered on the edge of a
climax.  "I want to see you come all over your own chest."  With that,
he stroked a little harder and pinched Q's nipple again.  Q screamed,
thrashed, and came hard.  

As soon as the entity began to come down from the climax, Picard moved
forward until he was kneeling between Q's legs and pushing them back,
both of them straining against the bonds.  He got more lubricant and
almost roughly coated his own erection with it.  Then he got his knees
under Q's legs, raised his ass, and with no other preamble thrust
inside that tight heat he remembered so well.

Q howled, but Picard wasn't worried.  Not only did the fire he could
see around his lover flare and roar, but Q was almost instantly erect
again.  Whatever pain Q was feeling wasn't dampening his pleasure,
and, indeed, the entity immediately moved with him, encouraging
further thrusting.

Picard didn't need encouragement.  Hard and fast and strong he moved
inside Q, pumping him deeply, fucking him thoroughly, wildly, shouting
out how good it felt, how perfect Q was, how much he wanted to fuck
him for eternity.

"Yes!" Q kept shouting, then screamed with pleasure as the man's hand
wrapped around his erection and pumped in time with those thrusts.  Q
came, his spasming muscles bringing Picard to climax with him.  They
shouted and emptied themselves, Q being filled up again with
Jean-Luc's cum, and Jean-Luc being filled with Q's tangible certainty
that this was, in fact, real.

After, they held each other for a long time, before Q spoke.  "I'm
sorry."

"Sorry?" Picard asked, propping himself up on one elbow and looking at
Q.  "What on earth for?"

"You were right earlier; if I'd believed in you after we were here
again, I could have helped you deal with the let-down."  He reached
out and stroked the side of Picard's face.

"Ah," Picard said, his voice light, but his words serious, "so you're
always going to be the strong one?"

"Uh..." Q began.  He looked at Picard and began to laugh.  "Obviously
not," he finally said.  "Jean-Luc, I don't know how this works."

"No one ever does."  Picard moved until he was lying on his back,
propped up by the pillows, and then reached out and pulled Q into his
arms. 
Looking down at the dark head resting on his shoulder, he smiled
ruefully.  "All these years, I've wanted you to understand what it's
like to be human,
and now I discover that all I had to do was to fall in love and get
involved
with you."

"So it would seem," Q said, imitating his lover's accent.  "All this
uncertainty," he continued, "you expect it in a relationship."

"Q, I expect it in *everything,* particularly relationships."

They said nothing for a while and Q began to idly stroke Picard's hip. 
"I love this," he said, his voice warm.  Picard shivered as the hand
kept
stroking him.  "This part right here.  I'm not too wild about the word
'flank,' mind you, but I love the way this part of your body seems to
have been made for me to touch."

"Mmmm...it was." 

"But there's something missing.  Something I'd like to see there."

"What's that?" Picard asked, though he suspected he knew.

When Q spoke, his voice was quiet and solemn.  "The Anoni tattoo."

Picard could feel his heart begin to beat faster as Q's words sunk in.
"After the ceremony, when I asked if you thought we were mated..."

"I still mean everything I said," Q interrupted swiftly.  "Jean-Luc,
what I *felt* was real, even if the setting were made up."  Once more,
Picard felt that warmth reaching out toward him.

Jean-Luc was silent for a long time.  He knew that his hesitation was
causing Q worry and he didn't like that, but this was not a decision he
could make lightly or hastily.  *But I already made the decision,* he
thought.  *I decided within the course of a couple of days there on
Anoni.*  

"Q?" Picard asked aloud.

Q pulled away and sat up to look at him, those familiar and now beloved
features serious.  "Yes, Jean-Luc?"

"At one point we talked briefly about our relationship bringing the
Federation and the Continuum closer together.  What is *really* going to
happen because of us?  Because of who we are to one another?"

And, then, carefully, Q began to explain what was happening in the
Continuum.  How countless millennia of existence had lead to
stagnation, and how a few Q, himself among them, had rebelled against
that stagnation.  He told about how he and the others had paid for
that rebellion.  "They weren't just punishing me for harassing you
when they took my powers away," Q said.  "I was being punished for
wanting to join your crew, for needing what I didn't even know I
needed from you."

"Acceptance," Picard replied. 

"Right.  I didn't know I wanted love, and I really didn't even know
that I wanted acceptance.  And before you start feeling awful about not
accepting me, remember that you couldn't have done anything but what
you did." 

"And so they made you mortal."

"Strictly a matter of 'here, you wanted it, now you have it.'"  Q
sighed.  "And it worked.  I reformed, and conformed, and became a good
little Q."

"You helped me with the anomaly," Picard pointed out, not liking the
traces of self-loathing that he saw on Q's face.

"I couldn't help it.  It was such a *stupid* test.  I had to set it up
so that you were the very cause of the phenomena you were trying to deal
with.  There was no solution and I couldn't help but feel that we'd
done that before."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, your whole first encounter with the Borg was sort of a Q Kobyashi
Maru test.  And you passed it."  Q shrugged.  "So putting you through
that again was as useless as them watching you deal with Ayun."

"Then why?"

"Well, the temporal anomaly did require that you think past linear
time, and so I suppose it could be said to have some merit, but the
thing with Ayun?  That was just sheer jealousy."

Picard stared at Q in astonishment.  "Jealousy?  The Continuum is
jealous of *me*?"

"Well, there's more to it than that, of course.  To the Continuum, you
represent humanity.  And lately humans aren't high on the Continuum's
list."  Q paused and then told Picard about Quinn and the trial on the
Voyager.

"So the letters that the Romulan underground smuggled out were real?"
Picard interrupted when Q mentioned Janeway and her ship.  "I was
certain that they were."

"Of course they are.  And I must say, Jean-Luc, I like your Kathy; she
reminds me of you."  Q looked at Picard.  "Although you're better
looking."

"Now I know that the Q have a different set of aesthetic values," Picard
said wryly. 

"Stop fishing for compliments, Jean-Luc; you're utterly gorgeous."  As
if to back up his words, Q leaned toward Jean-Luc and kissed him
urgently. 
For several long moments, neither of them thought about the Continuum or
Janeway or anything but the swift resurgence of desire.

"It will always be like this, won't it?"  Picard murmured when they
finally broke the kiss. "We'll be talking about something serious and
then..."  He smiled.  "It should bother me that you're such a
distraction, but, in truth, I rather like it."  

"Good, because I find myself liking it too."  They smiled foolishly at
one another and then Picard gestured.

"The rest of the story?"

Q told him.  "And so," he concluded, "there are a growing number of Q
who think we lost something vital along the way and now are looking
around trying to see what it was and where to get it."

"And they look to you for leadership."  Picard was surprised, and
somewhat amused, at the faint look of discomfort that crossed Q's face.

"Well..."

"I saw it," the captain said firmly.  

"Yes, I suppose they do.  Q, I mean, the Q who was Amanda, has something
to do with that.  And so, indirectly, do you."

"We're going to have to go back and face them again, aren't we?"

"Yes, but I'm not as worried about that as I was last time."  

And Q didn't look worried, Picard realized.  Instead the entity looked
almost anticipatory.  He raised a brow in question and Q smiled. 

"I have more support than I thought I did," the entity explained. 
"And frankly, the fact that you and I shared something that is a
uniquely Q experience, which binds us together in the way the Q bond,
will make a big difference.  We Q are such incredible snobs," he
ignored Picard's sarcastic snort, "but now that is going to work in
our favor.  If you could go through an experience like that and still
not doubt your own concept of reality...well, it makes you look good. 
And, in the eyes of the Continuum, it validates our relationship."

Picard felt a rush of love toward Q flow over him, and he tried to
project it.  That he was successful was immediately evident, for Q's
eyes lit up.  "*We* validate our relationship," Jean-Luc said, his
voice sure and steady.  "Q, I would like it very much if you would put
the tattoo back."

"Beverly will see it next time you're in Sickbay for a physical."

"Like the Continuum, my crew is going to have to deal with this.  It
won't be easy, but they're good people and, in time, I think they'll
accept our relationship."  

"I love you."  There was a faint flash and Picard looked down to see
the two interlocked circles on his hip.  When Q bent to kiss them,
Jean-Luc felt his heart speed up at the brush of those warm lips
against his sensitive skin.  Q chuckled and Picard felt that as well.

"Ohhh," the man moaned as Q bent his head again.  This time the
entity's mouth moved to the left and Jean-Luc could feel that warm
breath on his rapidly hardening penis.  Q didn't waste any time, and
soon Picard was holding himself still in an effort not to thrust into
the wet heat of Q's mouth.  "Please," he cried out as Q stopped.

His frustration was suddenly replaced with anticipation as Q sat up and
reached to roll him over.  "Yes," Jean-Luc said, eagerly moving onto his
knees and elbows.  

"My," Q drawled, "you seem to want this as much as I do."

Picard was about to answer, when he felt that warm breath again.  Was Q
going to...?  "Oh God!" he yelped, as he felt Q's tongue tease the
entrance to his body.  "Oh please," he moaned, sliding his knees apart
and
arching.

*You like this?* Q's "voice" echoed in his head.  

Picard couldn't force words past the noises he was making as Q's tongue
moved inside him.  He'd never felt anything like this before that
dream, and now it was *real*; it was so intimate, and made him feel
decadent.  It also made him feel adored and cherished, not to mention
that it aroused him like few things ever had.  "Yes!" he cried out, as
his nerves caught fire, and Q's tongue grew more insistent.  "Oh
God...yes!  Q...I'm going...to..."

*Go ahead, Jean-Luc.  Come with my tongue inside you.*

And so Picard came, screaming Q's name and pounding his fists on the
bed.

Before the man had much of a chance to recover, Q moved to kneel
behind him.  As his lover's slick fingers began sliding into him,
Picard managed a weak chuckle.  "There would seem...ohhh...to be an
advantage...ah...to being your
lover."

"Really?" Q asked, his voice innocent.  He moved a hand around
Jean-Luc's
hip.  "Well, well, what have we here?"

"If you have to ask..." Picard groaned.

"Only because I want you to hear you tell me," Q replied.  Picard
thought he was joking, until Q's fingers stilled.  "Come on, Jean-Luc."

Picard took a deep breath.  "What we have here," he said, striving to
sound cool and collected, "is my erection.  I have that erection
because you
have your fingers in my ass, and I'm hoping that you're going to fuck
me." 
He paused to breathe heavily as Q teased him more.  "And if you *don't*
fuck me damn soon, what we're going to have here is a starship captain
who died of
frustration."  He heard Q laugh and continued.  "So fuck me already!"

"All you had to do was ask," Q said.  

Picard growled, a sound that turned to a pleased groan as Q slowly
entered him.  Oh yes, this was exactly as he remembered it:  a hot,
heavy
pressure that radiated pleasure through his entire body.  "Yes," he
sighed, "oh, yes..."

Once more, Jean-Luc felt that incredible sweet fire surround him and
fill him.  He instinctively reached out for Q's mind even as his body
began
to move in rhythm with his lover.  *You told me you wanted me to think
of
you and only you when I thought of sex?* he asked.

"Yes!" Q groaned, increasing the speed of his thrusts.  *I'm the only
one who's ever fucked you, the only one who's ever made you feel like
this.*

There was a faint questioning tone to Q's thoughts and Picard reached
out with all the love he felt.  *No one but you,* he thought fiercely.
 *You
just aren't sex to me, but love.  When I think of love now and forever,
*you* are what I'll think of.*  "Oh yes!" he cried out aloud.  "You! 
Only you..."

"Only you," Q grunted in reply.  

And then they were beyond coherent words of any kind.  Picard knew
nothing but Q's cock inside him and the heat of Q's love surrounding
him.  It was different from what it had been in the temple and he knew
dimly that it would always be different.  He tried to let Q see his
anticipation of an eternity spent discovering sex each time they
touched, and he felt Q's own anticipation wash back over him.  The
pleasure built steadily, and it seemed to Jean-Luc that each time Q
thrust into him the bond and the promise between them grew stronger. 
No more loneliness, no more fear, no more
unworthiness, just this love wrapping each of them in the heart of the
star they had created.  Picard was screaming and crying now and he
knew that Q was as well.  As the jumbled words of love and passion
echoed in their ears and minds, it finally became too much for
Jean-Luc to contain.  The heart of the star flared and he was coming,
aware of nothing but the ecstasy of being loved by Q.  When his orgasm
triggered Q's and Picard felt the heat of his lover coming inside him,
he was rocked by an aftershock and, overwhelmed by the heat and the
intensity, he collapsed, Q a bare second behind him.

After an unknown amount of time, they stirred.  Neither seemed capable
of much movement, and they ended up tangled together, Picard's head
against Q's chest.  As he lay there, not quite asleep, he felt the
incredible heat of Q's love surround him.  They would have to talk,
Picard knew.  There were both the Continuum and his own officers to
face.  There were the countless strains and adjustments they would
each have to make after being alone for so long.  That they would face
and surmount all those obstacles
together he had no doubt.  It would be hard sometimes, but what they
had already gained was worth any struggle, any test that the universe
chose to put them through.  *Love,* he thought, sharing the thought
with Q.  *The root of all Life...*

*...of all Joy and of all Art.*  Q thought back, gathering Picard
closer into the heat of his embrace.

Jean-Luc Picard had never been so warm.



The End