Despite ample lubrication it hurt more than Picard had expected when Q began slowly to push inside him.  He felt the narrow entrance to his body seemingly being stretched beyond what it could possibly accomodate.  Although Q was being as gentle as possible, much to Picard's surprise, the sensitive tissues were not used to being penetrated and didn't give way easily.  Picard felt Q's hand tenderly running over his lower back and buttocks as if reassuring him.  Picard consciously relaxed his muscles, and after several moments, he felt himself filled up.  He gasped sharply as Q began very slowly moving in and out; he was already emotionally overwrought from his contest of wills with Q, and he had to bury his head in the pillow to conceal the tears that stung his eyes.  Q, of course, had known anyway, but pretended not to notice.  Picard had squeezed his eyes shut and was biting down on his lower lip, but gradually began to become aware of a spreading warmth inside him that mingled with the pain.  Q's slow and deliberate thrusts gradually picked up in tempo, Picard felt a rush of elation and pleasure wash through him.  He began to move in rhythm with his partner, and gasped out an involuntary "Yes! . . . yes!" when Q reached around to slide a slippery hand up and down his engorged penis in perfect timing with his thrusts from behind.  The combined sensations sent Picard hurtling over the edge on which Q had suspended him for so long, and he cried out as waves and waves of ecstasy pulsed through him.  His hips rocked in violent spasms, and he felt a sudden deep thrust and heard a long, drawn-out, gasping moan behind him.

        Picard's knees buckled, and he collapsed on his stomach, sobbing.  Q gingerly moved off and to the side, when Picard suddenly lunged at him, flipped him over, and wrenched his arms behind his back, demanding breathlessly, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!"

        Q remained still, briefly considered blocking the shooting pains in his arms, then decided he was in for the whole thing and refrained from using his powers.  He replied as calmly as he could, "What I've done to you is obvious, Jean-Luc; I've given you exactly what you wanted.  A more telling question, perhaps, would be, what have you done to me?"

        "Don't play games with me!" snapped Picard, yanking up on Q's arms.  Q emitted a soft groan, but it did not occur to Picard to wonder why Q was letting him get away with this.

        "I'm not playing games with you, Jean-Luc.  I had no intention of letting you go.  I was going to flip you over, keep you immobilized, and take you that way.  Can't you see that I wanted to compel every nuance of your response, call every shot? . . . but I didn't.  I released you."

        "Why?" whispered Picard, letting go of Q's wrists.

        Q sat up and exclaimed, "Because, you obtuse and dimwitted mortal, I wanted you!  I couldn't draw out the game any more because I COULDN'T  WAIT."  His voice dropped to a whisper, "It suddenly became more important to me to," he paused, searching for the right words, "to be inside you, to  . . . well . . . join with you, than to win.  And if you can't figure out how rare it is for me to feel that way and what it means for me to have said that, then you truly are much more hopelessly simple-minded than even I imagined!"

        Picard held out his hands helplessly, "Q . . . I . . ."

        "Don't say anything!" warned Q.  "I've said all I have to say about me.  The least you could do is acknowledge that I gave you precisely what you wanted!"

        Picard nodded, lifted Q's hand to his lips, and whispered, "yes, you gave me what I wanted, and I wanted it more than I wanted anything . . . I just don't understand why.  I've been . . . " he winced at the memory, "helpless and immobile before, and believe me, I hated it."

        Q shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed, "How the powers-that-be in Starfleet can give positions of such responsibility to individuals with so little self-knowledge and self-awareness is truly beyond my comprehension.  Can't you acknowledge to yourself that what you wanted was me?  Yes, me, Q, your nemesis and tormentor, who seizes your ship, and kidnaps your crew, and otherwise enlivens your dreary little mortal existence and, incidentally, saved your life and helped you preserve your useless species from extinction!  You told me, yesterday, that you wanted to prove to me that this was more than a game--that that was why you let me seduce you.  All right, Jean-Luc, I've more than acknowledged it!  But when will you figure it out for yourself?"

        "I . . . I'm sorry, Q.  I never even imagined being with you like this.  It is extremely hard for me to acknowledge these feelings.  But even so, why . . ."

        "Why the restraint, the helplessless, the humiliation?  Is that what you're asking, Jean-Luc?  Why am I doing it, or why do you enjoy it so much?"

        "Both," whispered Picard miserably.

        "That is for me to know and for you to find out.  I think I've provided quite enough answers for one day.  Get to know thyself, Jean-Luc Picard--you'll be fascinated with what you discover in there."  Q then smiled half-mockingly, half-warmly and said softly "I know I am."  Picard smiled ruefully in response, as Q stretched out on his side and patted the sheet invitingly in front of him.  Picard began to speak, but Q reached up to press a finger against his lips.  "Be quiet, Picard, and just come here."  Picard curled up against Q spoon fashion, clutched his partner's encircling arms against his chest, and, utterly drained, fell into a profound and soothing slumber, the warm body of his lover pressed against him.

        Still stretched out on top of the saucer section of the Enterprise, Q kept his head buried in his arms as he mentally relived that night as vividly as if it had been the original experience.  After he basked for several minutes in the memory of Picard sleeping in his arms, he sat up, sighed with a wry smile, and muttered, "Men . . . you can't live with them . . . and you apparently can't live without this particular one.  Well, Jean-Luc, if I'm a fool for you, then that's something."

        * * *

        Picard spent most of the night awake after Q had furiously flashed out of his quarters.  He looked hollow-eyed and worn as he emerged on the bridge, and Deanna's large eyes immediately fixed upon him.  "Captain, may I speak with you alone?"

        "Now?  Am I not to be allowed to start my shift?"

        "Later, if you prefer, Captain."

        "Now is fine!" snapped Picard.  "Will, you have the bridge."  As the doors to Picard's ready room slid open with a hiss, he flipped open his hand in a sarcastically exaggerated gesture of "After you!"

        Deanna walked in, waited for the doors to shut, then said, "Captain, you look utterly exhausted."

        "Why thank you, Counselor, you flatter me," muttered Picard.

        "And you're being uncharacteristically sarcastic and short-tempered," continued Deanna evenly and without missing a beat.  "You haven't been yourself since you took command of  this ship, and you look like you definitely need some rest.  I'm sure Beverly would confirm that . . . " she added, and gestured as if to tap her communicator.

        "Very clever," muttered Picard.  "All right, you win, Counselor, but leave Beverly out of it."

        Deanna repressed a slight smile and gestured toward Picard's sofa.  After they sat down, she asked, "What happened to you in San Francisco?"

        Picard sighed and said hesitatingly, "I met . . . and became involved . . . with a person who is . . . in many ways very similar to myself.  As you can undoubtedly imagine, this leads to a certain degree of complication and conflict.  It is," he paused, "a very rewarding relationship for me, and you would undoubtedly be pleased with the self-searching it has generated in me, but it is also a very difficult relationship . . . for the same reasons it is so rewarding, actually."

        "This relationship is continuing?" asked Deanna.

        "Yes, and that's all I'm going to tell you, Counselor.  I will grant you that I have not seemed "myself" recently, but I do not think that I have indicated in any way that I am unable to perform my duties.  I appreciate your concern, Counselor, but unless you have good cause to declare me unfit for duty, there is no need to continue this conversation."

        "I see no reason, at this point, to declare you unfit for duty," said Deanna evenly, "but if you appear on the bridge looking as tired tomorrow I will refer you to the Chief Medical Officer for an evaluation of your health."

        Picard smiled, "Understood, Counselor."  He reached over and took Deanna's hand, "Deanna, you're my friend, and I trust you, but I simply cannot tell you any more than I already have.  Please trust me that my reasons are good ones."

        "I do, Captain," said Deanna, gently squeezing his hand.  "You've been through a lot, Captain, as have all of us, and it's my business to keep an eye on you and the rest of the crew.  You have to expect that I'm going to check up on you once in a while."

        Picard nodded with a smile as they returned to the bridge.

        * * *

        After an uneventful and seemingly interminable day, Picard hurried to his quarters.  As he entered, he did not see anyone, but he sensed Q's presence, sat down, and began to speak, "Q, I'm going to apologize, but I'm not going to grovel for you.  I'm sorry for what I said; it was unfair and unjustified.  I was just trying to find some reason--a reason outside myself for the way I've been feeling.  I'm preoccupied during all my free moments, and I find myself more and more distanced from my crew . . . "

        "Yes, and undoubtedly a certain red-haired Chief Medical Officer, in particular!" interrupted a disembodied voice in a snarling tone.

        This time Picard lost his temper:  "Q, GOD DAMN IT!  You leave Beverly out of it!  Isn't it sufficient for your infernal self-absorption that I'm utterly obsessed with you?  Do you have to gloat over having wrenched my attention away from everyone who meant anything to me?  This I don't need!"  He sighed miserably and muttered, "Couldn't you have found some other species to torment over the past several years?  What the devil am I doing with you anyway?"

        Q suddenly materialized, kneeling at Picard's feet and noticing for the first time how drawn and worn out he looked.  He spoke hurriedly, in a low tone, "Jean-Luc, forgive me, I'm so, so sorry!  I'm selfish and thoughtless, I know.  I like having my way with you, it's true, but I don't want to hurt you.  I just . . . I have a horrible habit, ingrained over centuries and centuries, of . . . taking advantage of every opening.  If you think you and I engage in power struggles, well, you can't imagine what it's like among the Q.  If your opponent, even if that opponent is a lover, shows a weak spot, you have to twist the knife in--if not, you risk being eviscerated yourself.  It's a state of continual competition; the best analogy for it would be the most ferocious sibling rivalry you can imagine, with the addition of extremely developed telepathic powers.  It's an inevitable, necessary, but ugly game, Jean-Luc.  I should have known better than to play with you."  He lifted Picard's hand to his lips, kissed it, saying, "I'm sorry.  I will leave if you ask me to, but I'd rather you didn't."

        Picard sighed, shook his head, then said, "I think I understand.  I have to remind myself that we're all products of our environment, yourself included.  But, please, Q, try to understand that my alienation from my friends, including Beverly, is very painful to me.  It's not easy to get used to having an immortal and omnipotent entity as one's lover."  He smiled gently, then continued, "I haven't been able to find a balance, but you have enough ways to triumph over me without reminding me how remiss I've been to people I care about."

        Q nodded, "I am truly sorry.  I'll try to behave, at least in that respect.  May I stay?"

        Picard said, "Yes, I want you to stay, but you owe me!"

        Q raised his eyes to Picard's, as a teasing smile began to emerge on his lips.  "I'm at your service, mon Capitaine.  Do with me what you will."

        Picard roughly grasped a handful of Q's hair, pulled his head toward him, and began kissing him hard.  As their mouths met, he felt his fatigue wash away.  With renewed energy pulsing through his body, he felt ready for anything . . . even Q, who was letting himself be kissed with an uncharacteristic passivity.  When they came up for air, Q murmured, "I can think of a way to make up for my misbehavior, Jean-Luc.  Would you like that?"  Picard felt a large knot tightening in his chest at the sight the overwhelmingly powerful being kneeling before him.  He felt both awed and humbled, and swallowing hard, just nodded.

        A moment later, his clothes had vanished, and he felt his buttocks sliding down to the edge of the chair and his legs being gently pulled apart.  He leaned back and closed his eyes, as Q slipped a finger inside him and took his erect penis into his mouth.  That wasn't all he felt, however, for Q could rarely resist the impulse to use his powers.  Picard could feel an invisible finger tracing its way up and down his spine, more invisible fingers toying with his nipples, and two sets of invisible fingernails scraping the inside of his thighs.  Q's finger and tongue meanwhile were giving off small electrical charges, making the sensation inside Picard's anus and on his penis almost unendurably intense.  Picard began to groan more and more loudly as the finger slid in and out of him while that impossibly electrifying tongue merely circled the tip of his penis, occasionally probing the opening.  "I . . . really . . . can't . . . take . . . any . . . more  . . . Q!" he gasped in a choked voice, and Q, much to his surprise, immediately began sucking hard, while sliding the probing finger in and out even faster, and Picard quickly came with an explosive, liquid, burning rush.  As his shuddering began to slow, he found himself transported to the bed, where Q pulled him into his arms.  Their mouths locked together, and they kissed fiercely and urgently, as if unable to get enough of each other.

        * * *

         While the Enterprise was approaching Starbase 232, Picard received a message from Commander Sylvia Guttierez inviting him and his officers to a reception in his honor.  Gutierrez was an old friend of his from the academy, and, as Picard recalled with a wry smile, would use any occasion to throw a party.  He knew it would be a good one.

        After the Enterprise docked, and repairs were proceeding, Picard insisted that his senior staff join him at the reception.  He didn't need Deanna to tell him that they would welcome a diversion.  When they walked into the room, Picard was impressed, but not surprised.  There was a seemingly endless dance floor with spectacular lighting effects, and a live band.  The buffet table groaned under delicacies from all over the galaxy, and the bar sparkled with multi-colored bottles of every description.  "I've heard of Commander Gutierrez's parties," remarked Riker to Picard; "apparently the reports did not exaggerate."

        "Indeed," replied Picard abstractedly, looking around for his hostess, "Sylvia's parties are legend . . . "  He broke off abruptly having spotted her.  He walked over to her with Riker in tow.  "Sylvia!" he exclaimed, reaching for her hand, "How are you?"

        "Muy bien, Juanito, y tu?" she replied, disdaining Picard's proffered hand and giving him an enthusiastic hug.

        "Good, very well, thank-you."

        "I'm so sorry about your ship, Jean-Luc," she continued.

        He nodded gently, then said, "Well, it's generous of you to help us celebrate our new one."

        "Generous, hell!  I just wanted to throw a party."

        Picard laughed.  "I'm not surprised.  Allow me to present my first officer, Will Riker."

        Sylvia shook Riker's hand with a firm grip, then turned to Picard.  "Oh, I have a surprise for you, Juanito.  An old friend of yours happens to be here, and I invited her to the party."

        "Old friend?" responded Picard dubiously, and his suspicions were immediately confirmed, when the doors slid open, and Dr. Catherine Vye glided into the room, making a dramatic entrance in a dazzling ballgown resplendent in wine-colored velvet and gold trim.  Picard couldn't decide whether to sigh in exasperation or grin, but he was distracted by the infinitely entertaining spectacle of Will Riker's jaw dropping to the floor.  While Catherine approached, Picard whispered to his gaping companion, "I'm not an expert on these matters, Will, but I believe one makes a better impression on women when one greets them with one's mouth closed."

        "Yes, sir!" exclaimed Riker, but his eyes never left Catherine.

        "Jean-Luc!" she said, "I've missed you terribly!" then proceeded to pull Picard into her arms and bestow upon him a long, passionate kiss.  As her tongue probed his mouth, he managed surreptitiously to pinch her waist hard, but she just laughed, her eyes glittering.  She then turned to Sylvia, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, saying, "So nice to see you again, my dear.  I do so appreciate your inviting me."  Before Sylvia could reply, Catherine had swiveled her attention onto Riker, asking, "And who is this?"

        Riker's eyes were as wide as Picard had ever seen them, and his grin spread over his entire face.  Picard had to bite his lower lip hard to prevent himself from doubling over in laughter.  If Riker had known just who he was gaping at . . .  With a sharp tug on the front of his uniform, Picard managed to compose himself enough to say, "This is my first officer, Will Riker.  Will, this is Catherine Vye.  We met while I was teaching at the Academy."

        "To meet you is the pleasure of a lifetime," pronounced Riker gallantly.

        "Are you sure we haven't met somewhere before?  I certainly don't remember such an enthusiastic greeting, however," mused Catherine.

        "I doubt that we've met before," answered Riker, "I can't imagine forgetting you."

        "You're really too kind," noted Catherine, before turning back to Picard and asking, "Shall we dance, Captain?"

        Riker and Gutierrez both watched in amazement, as Picard whirled Catherine out onto the dance floor.  As soon as they were out of earshot, he demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

        "Amusing myself," replied Catherine languidly.  "What else am I supposed to do with my time?  And, incidentally, I'm also amusing you.  I saw how close you came to losing it over there.  Come on, mon Capitaine, let's give them a show."

        Picard pulled Catherine closer, and their lips closed together.  He could feel the eyes of his officers and friends on him, but he didn't care.  His companion was irresistably compelling, and both of them knew it.  He kissed her deeply, then whispered in her ear, while his hand roamed lightly over her buttocks, "You are in severe trouble, young lady."

        "Oh am I now?" returned Catherine, "just don't forget that I am omnipotent, and you are not."

        Picard lightly brushed his fingertips along the side of Catherine's breast, and when she took in her breath sharply, he remarked, "For an omnipotent entity, you're pretty susceptible, my love.  What would your fellow Q think of you now?"

        Catherine laughed.  "Fuck 'em.  Who cares?  I'm having more fun than they ever did."  She pulled Picard's mouth to hers for another kiss as they moved across the dance floor.  When Picard eventually lifted his head, he noticed that Beverly and Deanna were standing next to Will, and they were all staring openly.  He felt a sharp pang of guilt, which Catherine immediately noticed, and she murmured, "Would you like her to have a good time tonight?"

        "What do you mean?"

        "Look."  Catherine nodded her head slightly in the direction of a man in his early 40's who had recently entered the room.  Picard guessed that he was Gutierrez' second-in-command and noticed that his eyes were fixed on Beverly.  "I can just give them a little nudge toward each other," continued Catherine.  "He's a good dancer and a gentleman to boot, if my mind-reading serves me well, and I know your CMO is dying to get out on that dance floor."  Picard nodded.  Catherine pulled him over to the bar and ordered drinks, while Picard watched Beverly notice the man who was watching her.  He couldn't tell if their prolonged eye contact was natural or due to Catherine's intervention, but soon the couple was whirling about the dance floor, having a splendid time showing off their skills.

        It  was a fine party, but Picard found himself impatient for it to be over.  While he was dancing with Catherine, he kept feeling a tantalizing electric tingle all over his body, and when he was doing his duty by conversing with Gutierrez and her staff, he would be distracted by the sensation of an invisible finger firmly drawing its way down his spine or tracing figure eights on his buttocks.  It was a massive relief when they were finally able to depart.  As soon as the doors shut, Catherine pulled him around a corner and teleported them instantly back into his quarters.

        "Don't think I've forgotten your misbehavior all evening, young lady," said Picard with a grin.

        "You'll have to catch me first!" declared Catherine, disappearing and reappearing all around the room in bursts of light.

        "Since I can't there's not much point in my trying, is there?" said Picard calmly.  "I can wait."  He sat down on the couch and picked up a book.

        A moment later the book went flying out of his hands and sailed across the room, without, however, breaking anything.  A voice hissed in his ear, "You're good, Picard, you're really good.  You win this round," and Catherine suddenly appeared draped naked over his lap.  She had her head turned to look at him and was smiling that dangerously seductive smile he found so alluring regardless of the gender of its owner.  "I'm all yours, Captain," she offered in a sultry voice, "have your way with me."

        Picard murmured wistfully, "Ah, no, you're not mine, you don't belong to anyone, but I will have my way with you nonetheless," and more quietly he whispered, "and don't think I'm not grateful for the extraordinary gift you've granted me."

        "I know," whispered Catherine quietly, "but you'll never understand, Jean-Luc, just how much you've given me."  She began to wriggle on his lap, the seductive smile returned to her lips, and she said, "But meanwhile, discipline must be maintained, musn't it, mon Capitaine?"

        "Indeed," returned Picard, "now hold still!"  He pulled Catherine's arms behind her back, holding her wrists in one hand while he began slowly and lightly stroking her buttocks with the other, using his fingertips only.  He was still in awe that she allowed this, that she would submit to him like this, but she began to moan softly, and he realized again just how susceptible to touch, to his touch, she was.  Her moans diverted him from his musings, and he allowed his fingers to stray between her legs, just barely grazing the tight curls, before he suddenly smacked her bottom hard.  He saw her close her eyes, focusing all her attention on the sensation, as she awaited the next blow.  Picard obliged her, but as he did images began to flash through his mind, and he saw himself sitting in a shuttlecraft, hearing a mocking voice at his ear, saying "Petulance does not become you.  We have business, Picard."  He saw himself standing before a robed and sadistic judge who was dismissing him as an "obtuse piece of flotsam."  He saw a white-robed figure offering him another chance at life, followed by the image of a man in a Starfleet Captain's uniform, declaring in exasperation, "Spare me your egotistical musings about your pivotal role in history.  Nothing you do here today will cause the Federation to collapse or galaxies to explode.  To be blunt, you're not that important."  Another image appeared; it was himself wearing not very much actually, short pajamas, and feeling the uncomfortable sensation of a taller and infinitely more powerful man immediately behind him, speaking in his ear:  "She's found a vulnerability in you, a vulnerability I've been looking for for years.  If I'd known sooner, I would have appeared as a female."  All the varied humiliations he'd suffered at Q's hands came back to him, and it was several minutes before he opened his eyes and saw his hand coming down hard on Catherine's extremely red buttocks and realized what he'd been doing.

        He stopped, shocked, and Catherine murmured "Feel better, Captain?"  A final image crossed his mind, that of a powerless and vulnerable being, terrified, but trying to maintain a show of bravado, exclaiming, "My superiors have decided to punish me!" and Picard heard his own unsympathetic response, "And punish us as well, it would seem."  And he realized that he had been aware of each blow he had delivered, even as the memories spooled through his mind, and he could feel undeniable evidence of his own arousal pressing up against Catherine's body as she remained lying across his lap. "May I get up now, Captain?" she asked.

        "Yes, of course," answered Picard miserably.  Catherine immediately straddled his lap, kneeling.  "I . . . didn't . . . I . . . don't . . . understand you," said Picard.

        "And you never will," replied Catherine calmly and briskly.  "I didn't understand you, either, but I'm beginning to now--that's one advantage I won't be conceding."

        "I'm so sor . . ."

        "Don't get sentimental on me, Jean-Luc," interrupted Catherine.  "You enjoyed it, quite a bit apparently," she noted, while grasping his erect penis in her hand.  "And so did I," she continued, taking his hand and pressing it against her wet curls.  He opened his mouth to speak, and she pressed her finger against it to shush him, then leaned in and kissed him.  He responded instantly, and closed his eyes in ecstasy as Catherine raised herself up only to lower herself onto his penis, her mouth still glued to his.  As he slid inside her, he felt what seemed like tiny tongues of liquid fire swirling around his erection, and he knew she hadn't been able to resist using her powers.  She removed his hands from her arms and placed them on her behind.  He obligingly cupped her buttocks in his hands, and overcome with a flood of confusing emotions and an overwhelming lust at the same time, began thrusting upward into her warmth and wetness and the dancing flames with a passionate intensity while ferociously exploring her mouth with his tongue.  Catherine's hands on his shoulders gripped tighter and tighter, and she cried out suddenly, while he felt the shuddering spasms take possession of him and trigger his own climax.

        Catherine remained on his lap for some time, while they wordlessly held each other.  Finally he patted the couch beside him and said, "Sit here."

        "Yes, Captain," replied Catherine, obliging.

        "Don't 'Yes, Captain' me," laughed Picard, as he got off the couch and knelt in front of his companion.  "I'm offering you my services."

        "I accept," said Catherine with a smile, spreading her legs.  Picard bent his head, and pressing Catherine's legs apart with his hands, slid his tongue inside her for a moment, before proceeding to trace a path with it from her vagina, up and around her clitoris, and back down and inside again.  He took his time, slowly and deliberately tracing the same path over and over again with his tongue.  He could feel her body tense, and he noted out of the corner of his eye that she was rapidly clenching and unclenching her hands in an increasingly faster rhythm.  Catherine suddenly declared in a strained voice that retained only a hint of its usual mocking tone, "Picard, if I don't come VERY soon, I'm going to turn you into some extinct species of toad or better yet a bowl of Klingon gagh!"

        Picard paused in his ministrations, lifted his head, and said mildly, "You could say 'please.'"

        "I'm omnipotent!  I don't have to fucking say 'please' to anyone!" snapped Catherine, but her voice instantly shifted in tone, and she implored, "But for you I will . . . Please, Jean-Luc."

        Picard allowed the slightest of smiles to flit across his mouth and eyes, said, "Why didn't you say so the first time?" and returned to his uncompleted task.  He slid his thumbs inside Catherine's slick opening, and began moving them while strenuously tonguing her clitoris until her legs thrashed violently and she gasped and moaned in unabashed delight.

        Picard got up, picked Catherine up and carried her into the bedroom, and they lay in bed kissing, touching, and tasting each other until the exhausted Captain fell asleep, his head pillowed on Catherine's breasts, where he dreamed of dancing with her while she slowly melted into Q's usual form, much to his officers' astonishment.

        * * *

        After a day devoted to adminstrative tasks and fending off questions about his strikingly beautiful dance partner from the night before, Picard walked slowly to his quarters.  He knew this would be the last night he would be spending with his omnipotent lover for a while--the Enterprise was departing tomorrow for a mission, and Q's nightly presence was much too distracting when Picard had serious business to attend to.  He had to regain his focus.  He had never imagined that any relationship would prove more compelling to him than being a starship captain, but then he had never imagined being involved with a quasi-deity either--a thought that was simply too mind-boggling, too overwhelming, if he looked at it too closely.  Q was so human in his behavior, that even when he was showing off his abilities, it was easy to make oneself forget just how overwhelmingly and unfathomably powerful he was.  And it wasn't just Q's power that Picard couldn't really grasp--it was his immortality and knowledge and the multi-dimensionality of his existence.  Even the pronoun "he" or "his" was ridiculous.  Picard could never tell how many of Q's more human characteristics were assumed and artificial like his form, and how many of them were part of his personality, if an omnipotent energy being could be said to have a personality.  Picard rather thought that somehow Q really was as human as he acted, or at least Picard hoped that was the case.

        Picard entered his quarters warily and with all his senses alert.  There was a compelling impulse in Picard's mind, something he had to do to make the most of this night, for there was no telling when Q might return again.  Almost as soon as the doors slid shut, he felt invisible hands grasp his waist from behind.  One invisible arm slid around him, while an invisible hand began teasingly stroking his buttocks through his uniform.  The hand in front moved down toward Picard's groin, and Picard almost immediately felt himself hurtling downward into that chasm of absolute surrender, but he remembered that impulse and pulled himself together.  He suddenly grabbed the invisible wrist near his groin, and declared with all the force his voice could muster, "Q!!!  Listen to me!  I want you to listen to me, now!"

        Surprised, the entity paused in his explorations, and said, "I'm listening, Jean-Luc."

        "Not good enough.  I want to see you."  Q appeared, shrugged his shoulders casually, and folded his arms across his chest, standing immediately in front of Picard.  More softly but with a strained intensity in his voice, Picard said, "Q, I will do anything you want, anything you say, I will surrender absolutely, but I'm going to make one demand for tonight.  This is extremely important to me."

        "What is it?"

        "You don't use your powers.  At all.  Hold me down, do whatever you like, but no powers, understand?  You've adopted this human form to be with me, and I want you, for once, to limit yourself to it."

        Q nodded thoughtfully with pursed lips, then said, "What a novel idea, mon Capitaine.  Why not?  I'll try anything once."  He reached out, yanked Picard by the wrist, pulled him close, then pinned both his wrists behind his back while kissing him hard, pushing his mouth open with an insistent tongue.  In between kisses, Q murmured, "It's times like these that make me glad I selected a body both taller and stronger than yours."

        Picard parted his lips, submitting to another fierce kiss, then added, "And you have more hair."

        "Yes, I take every advantage I can get," replied Q, before turning Picard around and marching him toward the bedroom, while saying, in his most sultry voice, "Come to bed, darling."  They impatiently pulled at their own and each other's clothes, while Q remarked, "This would be a good deal easier my way."

        "You'll live," said Picard drily, as he finished stripping.

        "You know, I can do something about that attitude of yours even without my powers," threatened Q.

        "I'm sure you and will, Q, but do me a favor and use this," responded Picard, casually tossing Q a jar of lubricant that had been ready on the bedside table.

        "Now I know why they made you a captain, Captain.  You prepare for every eventuality.  But I may have a surprise or two for you.  Now come here and sit in front of me."  Q sat at the head of the bed and gestured between his legs.  Picard sat in front of Q, his back to him.  Q placed his hands on the insides of Picard's thighs, pulling them apart, knees bent, then placed his own longer legs over Picard's, keeping them that way, his feet pressing outward against Picard's calves.  He then opened the jar of lubricant, scooping some up with the fingertips of both hands, then began to tease Picard's nipples with his lubricated fingers.  Picard gasped and leaned back, his eyes closed, as Q nimbly massaged his nipples in rapid circles with his fingertips, then tugged on them insistently until they slid out of his slippery grip.

        Picard's penis was erect and quivering, and he urgently desired those hands to grasp it.  "Tell me what you want, Captain, and make it explicit," said a seductive voice in his ear.

        Picard sighed, then gasped, "I want you to take my . . . penis . . . in your hand and bring me off!  Explicit enough for you?"

        "Quite," laughed Q.  He amply lubricated both hands, then cupped Picard's balls with one hand, lightly massaging them, while sliding the other up and down Picard's erection.  Picard groaned involuntarily--it really was remarkably better when someone else was doing it, he thought wryly to himself.  Q's hand started out moving slowly up and down in a tormenting rhythm, but as Picard's breathing got faster and faster, Q obligingly moved faster and harder, until Picard nearly exploded, his back arching, and his legs shooting out in front of him, while Q grasped the tip of his penis with one hand, allowing the semen to ooze out between his fingers.

        As soon as Picard's breathing slowed slightly, Q ordered "Lie down on your back, now, Jean-Luc," and moved out of the way, so Picard could slide down in the bed.  Q rubbed his own erect penis with his wet hand, then sat between Picard's legs, reaching for the lubricant, and rubbing Picard's opening in slow circles, occasionally sliding a finger inside.  "Brace yourself, Johnny," he said, repositioning himself immediately between Picard's legs, and pushing them back so that one was draped on Q's shoulders, the other wapping around Q's back.  Augmenting the slickness of his penis with one final dab of lubricant, he pressed it against Picard's anus, and began pushing slowly inside.  Picard moaned loudly, and reached behind him to grasp the bottom of the headboard with his hands.

        "Oh . . . that's . . . amazing . . . Q," he gasped as Q began to move inside him, "That's . . . incredible."

        "What's incredible is how you look, Jean-Luc," replied Q.  "I wanted to see your face while I was inside you, and I will literally carry that look on your face and this sensation in my mind forever."

        "Kiss me, please."

        Q lowered his head to Picard's while Picard reached up and parted his lips to admit Q's insistent tongue, while each thrust sent shock waves through Picard's body.  His room seemed to fall away, and his entire universe consisted of the sensation of Q's penis driving into him, Q's tongue in his mouth, and an inexplicably comfortable feeling of both total freedom and utter belonging.  As Q's breathing began to quicken, Picard pulled his legs slightly higher, allowing his partner to penetrate slightly deeper, and Q groaned loudly as the climax roared through him.  Picard shivered involuntarily as Q slipped out of him, immediately moving down to take Picard's penis in his mouth.  Picard was still gripping the headboard behind him as Q's vigorous sucking brought him to an explosive release.

        As he slowly unclenched his fingers and tentatively stretched out his legs, Picard began hesitantly, "Q, I don't know what to say . . . I'll miss you terribly, but . . . "

        "I know, Jean-Luc, you think you can't live with me, you can't live without me.  It's the story of my life.  But you can live without me; you have a job to do here, and you'll do it as you always have--in an exemplary fashion, at least for a mere mortal such as yourself."  Picard nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but Q placed a finger over it to stop him.  "I know.  I know.  You don't have to say it.  And when you think you can handle the distraction, I'll be back. You're not going to be able to get rid of me, mon Capitaine, because if the truth be told, I can't live without you."

The End
 
 
 

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