From: thegiff@ix.netcom.com (Ruth Gifford ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek Subject: New Story: "Up Against the Wall, Jean-Luc" (Picard/Q, m/m) Date: 24 Aug 1995 04:17:23 GMT Organization: Netcom Lines: 143 Message-ID: <41gugj$hag@ixnews7.ix.netcom.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ix-ont5-22.ix.netcom.com Be afraid...be very afraid... Atara and Ruth have taken time off from...unpacking to start playing with Ruth's talking ST action figures. The result is this little...scene; based on a tableau that is even now being acted out on Ruth's dresser. As usual we should mention that Paramount owns our boys and we should not be fucking around (so to speak) with them. Up Against the Wall, Jean-Luc by Ruth Gifford and Atara Stein (c) 1995 Jean-Luc Picard had just come into his ready room. "Computer," he said, "bring up the latest findings on the archeological survey on Miantohs IV." His terminal beeped at him, and he leaned over the desk to look at the screen. To his surprise and alarm he felt a hand rudely grasp his rear end. "What the devil!?" He tried to straighten up, but was immobilized in this somewhat humiliating position. He felt a disturbingly familiar warm breath in his ear and a voice saying, "I just *love* the way these uniforms don't leave much to the imagination, Mon Capitaine." Picard tried to sound authoritative, no easy feat when bent over his own desk while feeling a hand moving suggestively over his behind. "Q!!! Will you..." "...please continue?" interjected the entity, his hand now sliding between Picard's legs. "That must be what you meant to say...hmm?" Picard couldn't help it; he groaned as Q's fingers discovered his erection. "Do you want me to stop? I wouldn't want to *force* you, darling." "Will you be so kind as to get your hands off me?" said Picard through clenched teeth. Q's hands immediately ceased their exploration, but Picard remained bent over his desk unable to move. To his shock, he felt his uniform disappear, to be replaced with his pajamas. "I must say, Jean-Luc," Q said in a conversational tone of voice, "I like your taste in nightwear. These are very...short...very revealing." Q bent over Picard, placing his hands flat on the desk where Picard could see them. "Look dear," he said smugly, "no hands." Picard let out a sharp gasp as he felt the stinging cold of a pair ice cubes simultaneously traveling up his thighs, while another pair slowly circled his nipples. He bit his lip, trying to prevent any more involuntary indications of his growing arousal. To his dismay, the comm unit on his desk chose that moment to beep. "Worf to Picard," the Klingon Security Chief's voice boomed through the speaker. "*Merde!*" Picard thought. It *would* have to be Worf. "Not now, Mr. Worf!" he snapped quickly as the ice cubes continued to tease him. "But sir..." "Not now! Picard out!" "My, my," Q said, his mouth against Picard's ear. "So eager to get rid of him... One would think that you want this to continue." As Picard opened his mouth to reply, he felt teeth nibbling, none too gently, on his nipples. The teeth were followed by warm tongue, and the heat after the cold of the ice cubes caused him to moan loudly. "You know, Jean-Luc, as fetching as these are, they're becoming inconvenient." Picard felt his pajamas vanish, while at the same time fingertips began to move very slowly up the underside of his erection. Another set of fingertips began to move teasingly between his buttocks. While this was happening, Q remained bent over him, and Picard became more and more aware of Q's dominating presence and his own growing desire to submit. It would be so easy; after all, he *was* being held down; he seemed to have no choice in the matter. As if reading his mind (which for all Picard knew, Q was), the entity whispered seductively into his ear. "If you *really* don't want this, I'll stop. It's up to you, Mon Capitaine." The fingers that had been teasing Picard suddenly seemed to be covered with warm oil; he felt them sliding along his penis, and one finger began to probe his anus. "Oh God..." Picard said, his defenses crumbling. "Oh...please...I've always...wanted this...Q..." In the back of his mind he was aware that he was babbling like an idiot but that didn't seem to matter. "Ohh...please...just...take me..." "Up against the wall, Jean-Luc," Q said, pulling Picard upright. In a daze, Picard felt Q march him over to the wall. Without being asked, he braced his hands against the wall and bent forward. Q's hands slapped lightly against the insides of his thighs and Picard responded by spreading his legs further. He felt Q's hands on his buttocks, opening him up and then... *** Picard's eyes shot open and he lay very still in his bed. "*A dream, it was only a dream,*" he told himself. His breath was coming in short ragged pants and he realized that he was intensely aroused, his erection pressing against the mattress. He rolled over, resisting the urge to reach down to his groin, as he struggled for control. Slowly his breathing steadied and after a few *long* moments, he felt his erection subside. He carefully sat up and left the bed and headed for the replicator. "Computer, a glass of very cold water." As the replicator complied with his request, he bent over slightly to take the glass that had materialized. Suddenly a hand rudely grasped his rear end and a familiar voice softly said, "up against the wall, Jean-Luc." The End ********************** "Bad influence Bad such a bad influence You think I'm bad You think I'm bad Well I'm the most fun that you ever had So good, so good But people say I'm a bad influence." Bad Influence The B-52's ************************************* Ruth Gifford "To call is to love. To call from a car is to love completely." billboard in West LA