The BLTS Archive- Inhale
by Laura Jacquez Valentine (jacquez@dementia.org)

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I have been watching him from inside his head.  There is a fine mind
there, for all its primitiveness.  I have learned how to command a
starship from him, how to kiss a woman as though I mean it, how to
grow and change (for what need have Q of change?  and yet change
slaked some thirst within me).

Sometimes, I have seen a thought of me, quickly buried.  I wonder why
he hides those thoughts from himself--and hence from me--so swiftly. 
Does he hate me so much that even the thought of me is unbearable?

I must rest.  Watching him is tiring, even for me.  He drives himself
so hard.  Hard.  Like the ache in my heart when I think of him, and
how he must hate me.  As hard as heartbreak, my Jean-Luc, and as warm
as the sun.

I flash into his quarters.  He is on the bridge, so far away, so
close. Humans conceive space so differently.  I wander around the
rooms, admiring all the things that he treasures.  "Tea, Earl Grey,
hot," I say to the replicator, and it spits out a small mug of the
bitter liquid Jean-Luc loves so much.  I breathe in the fragrance,
then take a sip. The taste is so strange, as strange as he is.  Alien. 
Erotic.

Erotic, my Jean-Luc?  When did I begin to think of him that way?  When
did I begin to desire him as well as love him?  Was it when he was
making love to someone, and I felt his pleasure in it?  Or when he was
at peace afterwards, or alone and dreaming?

I put the cup on the nightstand and lay down on the bed.  I must rest.
I am too overwrought, too involved.  Inhale.  God, it smells of him.
Sweetness and spice and muskiness linger in the sheets.  I roll over
on my stomach and bury my face in the pillow.  Inhale.  And the scent
is there again, rising around me.  I pretend the pillow is the flat of
his belly and that he would let me be here, like this.  With him.

I am aroused.  How peculiar a sensation!  When I inhale, it gets
stronger--a warmth in my stomach, a pressure in my groin.  I press
myself against the bed.  His smell is mixed with my own.  I want to
bring him here, now, and wrap my arms around him.  Lay my head on his
belly and listen to him breathe.  Inhale.

There is a flash of light.  I hvae brought him here.  I didn't mean
to, truly--but how sweet it is.

"Q?"  He isn't angry, only confused.  "Captain Picard to the Bridge.
I'm in my quarters.  Q is here.  The situation is under control."

Riker's voice acknowledges.  I close my eyes and wait.

"Q, what do you want?"  He is moving closer.  I open my mouth to speak
and only manage to moan.  If I turn over, he will see my arousal.  I
will not show him my weakness.  Will not show him how human and
needing he has made me.

His hand touches my shoulder.  "Q?"

I tremble and do not answer.  He leans over me, trying to see my face.
Closer, my Jean-Luc.  Come close so I can feel the heat of your body.

Inhale.

His scent washes over me, and he is so close.  I turn and seize him
and pull him down on top of me, pressing his body to mine.  I kiss him
(he himself taught me to kiss; surely he will enjoy this, even if he
hates me?) and wrap my arms around him tightly.  He is not struggling,
at least.

But he does break the kiss.  "Q?"

"I'm sorry."  I let him go, but he doesn't move.  "Jean-Luc?"

And he kisses me again, and I realize he is aroused as well, that his
penis is hard against my right thigh.  I moan into his mouth and make
our clothes go away.  His fingers tug at my nipples, his body slides
along mine.  He is so strong and so gentle.  His right hand moves down
my body, between us, and wraps around my penis.  I press myself into
his hand as he begins to move--

And I wake, alone and empty and fully clothed, in his bed.

Inhale.

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The End