Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!atl-c03.usenetserver.com!news.usenetserver.com!wns13feed!worldnet.att.net!216.196.98.144!border2.nntp.dca.giganews.com!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!newsread.com!newsstand.newsread.com!POSTED.monger.newsread.com!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Approved: ascem@earthlink.net Organization: Better Living Thru TrekSmut Sender: ascem@earthlink.net Message-ID: From: "Nick" MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEML@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEML-owner@yahoogroups.com Subject: NEW TNG: "Separate But Equal" 1/2 (P/Q, challenge) [NC-17] Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 453 Date: Thu, 28 Oct 2004 16:55:04 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 209.198.142.218 X-Complaints-To: Abuse Role , We Care X-Trace: monger.newsread.com 1098982504 209.198.142.218 (Thu, 28 Oct 2004 12:55:04 EDT) NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 28 Oct 2004 12:55:04 EDT Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated:85193 X-Received-Date: Thu, 28 Oct 2004 09:55:07 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: Separate But Equal Author: Nick Series: TNG Codes: P/Q, challenge Rating: NC-17 Part: 1/2 Summary: A seemingly impossible mission succeeds fantastically, and Warnings: BDSM, a couple of gross references to teenage boys (one of them being Wesley) getting it on. Don't worry, nobody's happy about them. Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name stays attached. Also at my website -- http://www.geocities.com/pompadour_slim/pq.html Notes: This was originally intended to be a short and sweet PWP for the "It's quiet... too quiet" challenge, but it got somewhat out of hand. I think it's become a case of honoring the letter of the challenge and not so much the spirit. Ah, well. Prepare for the return of menacing, insecure, self-absorbed, impatient Q. I missed him and I know you did, too. When the order had come through from Starfleet Command that the Enterprise should rendezvous with a freighter caravan carrying medical supplies and escort the vessels to a Federation outpost at the edge of Dominion space, the crew had leapt onto its toes and stayed there. The firepower and maneuverability of the Federation flagship had a tendency to engender a false sense of security, particularly given the vast and oft-proved capability of its command staff, but being responsible for a set of poorly armed, sluggish sitting ducks on a trek through disputed territory was not Jean-Luc Picard's idea of a good time. He had no doubt that the Enterprise would be a match for even the most suicidal Jem'Hadar strike force, but protecting four freighters which might as well have been unarmed and free-floating was another issue altogether. Surely there was no possibility of making it through any sort of battle without losing at least one of them. His request for backup had been denied on the basis that the medical supplies were urgently needed and there were no other capable ships in the vicinity. The implied acceptance of the probability of losing one or more of the freighters -- and its crew -- disgusted him, but his hands were tied. If the outpost's situation was that desperate, he would simply have to do his best. Incredibly, though, the mission had been an uneventful success. The fact that they had managed to escort the vessels to the outpost and then to Deep Space 9 without the slightest molestation seemed bizarre and made him feel strangely ashamed when the comparatively ecstatic congratulations had come through from his superiors. He didn't feel in the least responsible for the magnitude of the success but he had modestly accepted the praise for want of any alternative explanation. Shortly after their dock at DS9, the majority of the crew had disembarked for station leave, full of unspent nervous energy and eager to celebrate their good fortune. Picard himself had been invited for an evening at Quark's, and he had every intention of replicating something airy and urbane to wear and joining his command staff once he'd finished the last of his reports. If nothing else, Will would require supervision at the gambling tables, and Jean-Luc grinned inwardly at the thought of watching Data's face light up as he tried to assimilate the wide variety of cultures and etiquettes aboard the space station. The outing promised to entertain and endear, and so he had forced himself to fill out the reports in his ready room instead of at the desk in his quarters. His reputation for restraint was partially deserved, he supposed, but was due in no small part to the fact that he knew himself well enough to identify potential sources of temptation and avoid them. Going directly to his quarters would have presented him with the unbearable temptation to simply put the reports off until later and head directly for the replicator, and he would not now have the luxury of looking forward to a night of leisure with no work hanging over his head. As Picard made his way down the corridor from the turbolift, he couldn't escape acute awareness of how empty the ship seemed without lieutenants trudging past and jamming up at junctions as they headed dutifully to and fro. Of course there would be a few engineers in the bowels of the ship assisting DS9 technicians with minor repairs, but the captain felt for all the universe as though he were the only person left on the Enterprise. It brought back memories of being the only crewmember on the ship during the baryon sweep, but instead of assaulting him with an unsettling sense of deja vu, as he might have expected, the most shining significance of the memory at that moment was that it made him consider the civilian outfit he had worn at the time and whether it might not be appropriate to his current mood. Stepping into his quarters, Picard chuckled a bit to himself as he tried to decide whether he was up for having a tight pants sort of evening. He was just on the verge of liking the idea when an image of having his backside fondled publicly by a drunk and jolly Beverly Crusher rose to pop it like an old fashioned balloon. Momentarily relinquishing his indecisive frown at the replicator, Jean-Luc glanced absently over his shoulder and was struck by the stillness of the room. The ship's engines hummed no more softly than usual, and he had certainly spent a great deal of time alone in his quarters, but there was something strange about the way the air hung. Uneasiness itched at the back of his mind, kept him thinking of the improbability of their mission succeeding so blindingly and of the way the ship now seemed somehow emptier than it should. With dry irony he shook his head and murmured to himself, "It's quiet... too quiet." Suddenly there was a dazzling flash of white and the Enterprise was gone. The hum was gone, the bulkheads were gone, the sterile, clean smell of the recycled air was gone. It took several seconds for Picard's brain to begin to register what had replaced them, and in the meantime he blinked rapidly and tried to make sense out of the brightly colored, soft-edged shapes around him. Purple, blue, round, elongated. Pillows. He was surrounded by pillows. They were everywhere, lain atop each other and cradling the center of the low-ceilinged chamber, where he stood. The warm, neutral walls faded to the edge of his consciousness and he felt as though he were standing on a column of pillows in the middle of empty space. Something rustled behind him, and the sound snapped him out of dumb wonder. Everything clicked in his mind -- the success of their mission, the stillness of his quarters, and the fact that he was somehow no longer on the Enterprise -- and there was already a name on his lips as he turned around. "Q, what the hell is this?" "You recognize my work. Mon Capitaine, I'm flattered." The dark-haired entity reclined unselfconsciously along a length of pillows, cradling his chin in one hand as mischievous eyes glittered up at Picard. Jean-Luc's stomach flipped and tightened at the expression, and at the exotic clothing his not-quite-friend had chosen to compliment the setting. Q looked positively erotic as he sprawled, his lower body sheathed in a pair of tight, soft-looking dark pants that left few gaps for Picard's perfectly capable imagination to fill in, and there was something disturbingly authoritative about his high black boots. Pale nipples peeked coyly out from the skewed and elaborately decorated purple vest that covered little of Q's torso, and the man had to exert more effort than he would have preferred to force his attention away from contemplation of the body he had so long desired. Affecting thoughtfulness, Q pursed his full lips and frowned. "Though, really, Jean-Luc, not nearly as flattered as I ought to be. You should flatter me more; just look what I do for you." "You did *not* do this for me, Q." Picard bristled, as much to distract himself from his increasingly inappropriate thoughts of what he and Q might do on the ocean of pillows as because he felt genuinely affronted. The entity snorted. "Of course I did. Squishy human bodies and ridiculous costumes aren't exactly my idea of time well spent." "I'm beginning to think they are, for all the time you spend in them," the man said dryly, the familiarity of their usual conversational dynamic helping him to regain some of his composure. It occurred to Jean-Luc to wonder why Q would want him to think he was doing him some sort of favor, but when the entity narrowed his dark eyes the captain's blood boiled and froze simultaneously and the thought dissipated in a puff of vapor. "Well, well. Aren't we the audacious little mortal, trying to stand nose to nose with God," Q purred, and the menace in that silky voice crawled up Picard's spine on itchy, cold fingertips. It had been years since the man had felt genuinely afraid of Q, but he hovered disconcertingly close to feeling that way now. Jean-Luc had long suspected that the set of ethics within which the entity operated, however bizarre it might be by his own standards, offered him some sort of guarantee that Q would not frivolously torture or dismember him. At the moment, though, as he forced himself to meet the dark gaze full of devious promise, he was finding it an abstract and impotent assurance. "Come, Icarus. I have a confession to make." Picard blinked, unaware that when his eyes opened again they would be gazing up at Q from inside a head that was suddenly tucked back into a plush, purple pillow that was exactly as soft as it had appeared from across the small room. He started and instinctively tried to rise up onto his elbows, unsettled to find himself unexpectedly horizontal. The entity's weight, though, draped as it was across the entire length of him, held his body in place. "There is *one* human body I'd like to spend some time in." "You... can't be serious," Picard choked automatically. He couldn't deny the hot rush that erupted in his stomach at the sensation of all that tight warmth pressing down on him, but it seemed ridiculous to think the feeling might be mutual. His eyes widened, but no matter how wide they became, Q's wolfish face filled them completely. "Oh, but I am. Are you going to pretend you don't want me? Because that would be so tedious." Shifting above him, Q parted Jean- Luc's thighs easily with one of his own and leaned forward. The man tensed, overwhelmed by the bizarre intimacy of the position and fighting to maintain control over himself. There was no excuse for the way his hips wanted to press upward, the way his head wanted to fall back and wallow in the luxurious softness of the pillows Q had apparently conjured just for him. Q... what did he want? "Q..." Squirming, Picard tried to wrench an arm out from between them but the entity caught it at the wrist and pinned it above his head. Q tutted disapprovingly and swooped down to flick his tongue across the curve of the man's ear. Incensed, though toward what end he was entirely unsure, Jean-Luc growled low in his throat and surged up mindlessly, hissing through clenched teeth when his budding erection brushed against his assailant's hip. "What have we here?" the entity murmured, his warm breath filling Picard's ear and lighting sparks over the length of the man's supine body like maddeningly erotic signal flares. Still, the patronizing singsong of Q's tone made Jean-Luc want to commit some unparticular act of violence. He knew he ought to fight harder against whatever it was that the entity had planned, as it could not possibly be what it appeared to be, but his cock had other ideas. Despite all rationality, Jean-Luc's cock wanted Q to stop talking and make good on the lascivious promises implied in those dark eyes and in that silky, ominous voice. "You know, Jean-Luc," Q went on, brushing his full lips across the tender flesh of the man's throat and pressing his thigh forward meaningfully, "I wouldn't have to be omniscient to feel *that*." Desperately, Picard heaved his body up, jarring Q but not dislodging him. The entity was stronger than he seemed, Jean-Luc thought, and the idea made him fall back into the pillows snickering in breathless defeat. Of course Q was stronger than he was; Q was in all ways more than him. Jean-Luc was only a man, and what was Q? A god-thing, an immortal who could be as strong as he liked in any form. How ridiculous it was to fight him! If Q wanted to rape him, Picard would have to lie there and take it. If Q wanted to seduce him, half of the work was done already; Jean-Luc wanted him and had wanted him for years. "What are you laughing at?" Q snapped, all eroticism gone from his expression as he scowled down at the man pinned beneath him. Without knowing exactly why, Picard found himself laughing harder at that, forcing the entity to alter the distribution of his weight to keep the man still as his body shook with mirth. "You don't know?" Jean-Luc breathed when he could manage it. Q's scowl deepened and for a moment the man braced himself to be struck. Instead, Q shifted slightly so that he was looming higher over Picard's face, blocking out the flickering light of exotic wall braziers. "I could if I wanted to, but I'd rather you told me." Jean-Luc's laughter had dissipated reluctantly, but his flushed face still twisted into an ironic smile. "I'm laughing because I kept telling myself that I had to resist whatever it was you were trying to do to me, and then I realized how absurd that was. If you want to rape me there isn't very much I can do about it, is there? Do you want to rape me, Q?" "Of course not!" Looking disgusted, Q recoiled until he was kneeling between Jean-Luc's spread legs and glaring silently at him. Finally able to raise himself onto his elbows, Picard studied the entity with puzzlement. He seemed genuinely sickened and perhaps even insulted. In fact, the more the man recovered from the heady arousal Q's closeness had forced upon him the less he believed Q capable of rape. Was it Q he hadn't trusted, or was it his own body? "Then... what? Is this... God, Q, is this your version of making a pass?" For Q's sake, Jean-Luc gulped down his laughter, but he couldn't keep the twinkle from his eyes and it made the entity glower more deeply. For the first time since he had arrived in Q's apparently hand-crafted love nest, the man allowed himself to take in the more appealing aspects of the chamber. Incense, the scent of which pleased him so that it could only have been chosen with him in mind, burned smokelessly from an unseen nook. The light was muted without inhibiting his vision and Picard found that, now that he had opened himself up to the contemplation of them, the color combinations invigorated and inspired him. Had Q made all of this to please him? To entice him? Was it possible? "Don't be ridiculous, Picard. I'm a Q. Q don't 'make passes' at humans." Q rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest with a dismissive huff that was not entirely convincing. Crinkling his dark brows, Jean-Luc sat up, careful not to close his knees around the petulant entity who knelt between them. Q stayed rigidly in place, his intense eyes following every movement, and the man had the distinct impression that he was poised to flee. It was strange to think of Q as being vulnerable, but Picard's instinctive need to find common ground between himself and even the most alien being made it almost possible. Q must be vulnerable to something, sometimes, and as hard as it was to believe that he might be the cause of that vulnerability now, the alternative -- that Q was utterly invulnerable to everything all the time -- was inconceivable. "Well," he said softly, with a faint smile that hinted at an affection he did not fully understand. "That's all the more reason not to expect flying colors from the first attempt." "Yes, laugh!" Q snarled, pointing an angry finger at Jean-Luc and waggling it well within what the man considered to be his personal space. "But know this, Picard: however hard you laugh, the Continuum has you outdone exponentially!" Frowning first with surprise and then concern at Q's outburst, Picard impulsively settled a gentle hand on the entity's thigh. Q flinched, and hot confusion flashed in those dark eyes. Touched in a vague, indefinable way by the fact that the entity was obviously refraining from reading his mind, Jean- Luc found himself gripped by tenderness, the frank expression of which did not seem likely to be received well. He settled for sincerity instead. "I'm not laughing anymore, Q." "No, you're much too *evolved* for that, aren't you? I suppose your dismally limited attention is too taken up with pity to leave room for any further amusement." Q's nostrils flared and he wrenched his leg out from under the man's hand, sending a ripple through the pillows beneath them as he slumped back into a sitting position. "Why should I pity you? I don't even know what's going on here." Shifting his jaw uncertainly, Jean-Luc brought one knee up to his chest. Superficially, he did it to ease a sudden ache in the muscles of his hip, but his true motivation had more to do with putting up some kind of barrier against the raw and tangled emotion that flashed intermittently across Q's face. "Don't you, Jean-Luc?" The entity smiled mirthlessly. "I thought you would. I may be pathetic, but I'm not pathetic enough to misjudge a being as simple as you are." Picard had not intentionally lied to spare Q's feelings, but he couldn't escape the admission, at least to himself, that he had a very good idea of what was going on. The possibility that the entire situation might have sprung from a misguided -- though flattering, and even touching -- desire on Q's part to seduce him had at first seemed too outrageous to contemplate seriously, but finding reasons to dismiss it was becoming increasingly difficult. "Q, you didn't have to overwhelm me. If you wanted me you might have tried asking." "This isn't about me wanting you! This is about you wanting me!" Q scowled and surged forward, closing nearly all of the distance between them. His hot breath tickled the fine down across Jean-Luc's face and reacquainted the man with his forgotten erection. "Don't try to deny it." "All right," Picard breathed, smiling through the seizure of his chest muscles at what he was about to say. "I won't. I want you, Q." It felt good to finally admit it, out loud, to someone other than himself. Surely Q had known; the man couldn't imagine him taking such a risk otherwise. To confirm it, though, was both terrifying and liberating, and he took distinct pleasure in the way Q's dark gaze blackened in response. Beyond all theoretical plausibility, and if Jean-Luc's senses were to be believed, the entity was as aroused as he was. Q licked his full, sensual lips and stared intently, leaning forward and taking Picard with him until they were horizontal again. "Say that again," he murmured thickly, a warm hand trailing up the inside of the man's thigh. "I want you." It was easy to say it now, and even easier to spread his legs and accept Q's hard thigh between them, against his increasingly needy cock. Locking one elbow and arching over him, the entity drew a teasing fingertip down the middle of Jean-Luc's uniform shirt. Q obviously wanted to be in control, needed it, and Picard was all too happy to oblige him. Somehow the fact that he could endure the vulnerability of this position when Q could not made the man feel strong and safe. The entity's power was vast but not infinite; it was plain that he lacked the security to submit, that he was relying on Jean-Luc to possess that inner strength so that this coupling, this thing they had both desired for so long, could finally take place. The thought suffused Picard with an inappropriate smugness that forced the corners of his mouth upward, making Q's eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. There was a hand at his throat suddenly, possessive and rough without interrupting his flow of oxygen, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to panic. Q had never hurt him, would never hurt him, he told himself. The entity had contributed to his being in a number of ridiculously tight situations over the years, sometimes indirectly, sometimes under orders from the Continuum, but he had always, in his own way, stayed around to make sure things turned out all right. It hadn't always been comfortable, and it hadn't always made sense, but overall his association with Q had been positive. He had learned so much about himself that he might never have understood otherwise, and in recent years he had come very close to regarding Q as a friend. Seeming satisfied with the sobering of his expression, Q descended, kissing him hard and forcing his lips apart with a warm, agile tongue. Picard grunted, the strange new sensation of being owned rolling like a wave up from his toes and sending his eyes back into his head as it reached them. This was what terrified Q? A tongue filling his mouth, plunging inside and fighting fiercely when, in a moment of defiance, it was nearly repelled? Teeth grazing his lips and then, when he had grown too confident, pinching and pulling at them with unpitying near-abandon? But Jean-Luc wasn't afraid. He struggled so that Q would pin him harder, speared the entity's tongue so that Q would fill his mouth again. How many times had the pathologically gentle Jean-Luc Picard wanted to claw open his own chest to assuage the grief of having accidentally hurt a lover? How many times had he restrained himself so tightly as to come away from an otherwise pleasant encounter feeling inexplicably frustrated and annoyed? Feeling freer than he could ever remember feeling, Picard fought his lover in earnest, knowing that however hard he might resist, he would never have success to fear. His effort was rewarded by the clench of a long-fingered hand around his bicep and the sound of rent cloth as his uniform was split roughly down the center. When this was over he would be bruised and exhausted, he knew, and utterly satisfied. The man hardly had time to register the cool rush of air across his flushed chest before Q had clamped his fingers tightly over one nipple, that torturous hand moving with him as he arched and growled low in his throat. The searing burn of painfully excited nerves migrated instantly to his balls, already tight and aching, and to the very pit of his stomach, where a tender emptiness he couldn't name had begun to chew at him. "How do you want me, Johnny?" Q purred, discreetly slipping his other thigh between Picard's legs and pressing their groins together. The entity was hard and hot, and Jean-Luc groaned when he realized that he could feel every contour of Q's cock inside his tight pants. "I suppose a tough space captain like you wants to throw me over one of these pillows and stick his cock in my ass. Is that what you want, Mon Capitaine? Do you think I'm going to let you fuck me?" Picard groaned again, his hips thrusting upward without his authorization, overcome by the thought of what it would feel like to be inside Q. The heat and constriction around his cock were so vivid in his imagination that he was sure the fantasy must have been supplemented by something outside himself. It was an excruciatingly effective continuation of the tease in Q's voice, and he was powerless to stop himself bucking into it, willing it to be real. Smoky brown eyes hovering over him, goring him with the intensity of the lust and challenge that blazed there, brought Jean- Luc back to reality. Q's question hadn't been rhetorical, and he was clearly expecting an affirmative answer. Once again reveling in his capacity to endure and even to want something the entity did not fully understand, Picard shook his head. "No." The man's voice was rough with arousal, but it did not quiver from the declaration. One of Q's mobile brows shot up and then dove downward, quickly chased by the other, which knitted with it and stayed there. [Continued in Part 2/2] ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML. NewMessage: