The BLTS Archive - Revenge? --- Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything Startrek. Warning: PWP, some explicit m/m sex, mostly angst & h/c. Note: This was originally written as one scene for a larger TNG/VOY story that never materialized. I'm posting it for all those 'Hug-Me- Harry' fans out there, in gratitude for your support & encouragement. May be posted to PKSP and BLTS and archived at the PKSP website and R'rain's. --- "Wake up!" Harry woke with a violent jerk at the sound of a barked command filling his ears. "Wake up!!" It was repeated, even louder, and Harry's eyes flew open in shock. He rolled over in his bed and blinked at Q standing at the end of it. The entity looked furious. "What's going on?" Before Harry could finish his words, his quarters on Voyager had dissolved around him and he was in some other place, some place he had never been before. There were huge white columns in a vast circle. Gigantic billowing curtains hung everywhere. He couldn't see the walls, but the floors were pure white polished marble and the bed he was lying in was enormous. It could have accommodated at least six people comfortably. The sheets and pillow-coverings were slick and smooth as satin against his skin. They glowed a burnished bronze colour in the light from the two huge flickering oil lamps on either side of the bed that looked like something right out of a vid on Ancient Earth history. 'Barbaric' was the word that came to Harry's mind. He shifted in the big bed as he eyed the omnipotent entity studying him. He was naked under these magnificent sheets, naked as the day he was born. Q stared at the dark-haired golden-skinned young human. "Yes . . ." Q lifted one of the arms crossed on his chest and tapped his bottom lip with a long finger. "You look quite beautiful against those bronze sheets. Very flattering colour." Harry's stomach lurched uncomfortably at the expression in Q's eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Q was *leering* at him. "What is going on, Q?" Harry felt a nervous flutter in his chest. "Where are we? Why am I here?" He licked his lips anxiously and looked around the room again. "This isn't Voyager, is it?" He tried a tentative smile. Q did not smile back. He wanted to, and the fact that he wanted to just compounded the anger he already felt. He would *not* like this human. Harry Kim was to be the instrument of his revenge. Nothing else! "No," he confirmed. "This is not Voyager. This is nowhere, and you are here because I am going to take your body and make it mine, in return for something stolen from me." "What?!" Harry choked on his astonishment and horror. "No! Q! I haven't stolen anything from you! Nothing! I swear it! You can't do this, Q! It doesn't make any sense!" "Ah, but it makes a great deal of sense to me." Q's anger burned in his eyes. "Your lover is using mine, so I'm going to use his." "What?!" Harry couldn't believe this was happening. He *must* be dreaming this! It *must* be some kind of nightmare! And then Q smiled, reading everything in Harry's mind and on Harry's face. That smile was the first thing that had really frightened Harry since this whole thing began. He could never have dreamed up *that* smile. He shivered. "Let me get this straight. You think *Tom* is having sex with *Captain Picard*?!" Harry just shook his head back and forth. "That's impossible. *Tom* and Captain Jean-Luc Picard! That's . . . that's unbelievable!" "You'd think so, wouldn't you," Q snapped. "Just goes to show that there are stranger things in the universe than even * I * can dream up!" Harry just stared at the smoldering black eyes. "I don't believe you." His voice was firm. "There must be a mistake. It's just not possible." Harry's voice picked up even more strength and conviction. "Tom *loves* me," he said, as if that settled the matter. "He does, does he?" Q's eyes glinted dangerously. How dare this mere human argue with him. Well, we shall just see who loves whom, he gloated. Harry gasped as he suddenly found himself standing beside Q in another room. It looked like a stateroom aboard Voyager. He turned when he heard a moan from behind him. Harry froze in shock. He felt paralyzed. His mind was a blank as he took in the tableau before him. "Ahhh!" Tom groaned as Picard thrust into him, pulling him back forcefully into the older man's groin, flesh slapping together loudly in the quiet stateroom. Picard continued to thrust into the pilot in a strong steady rhythm, grunting with his efforts, breath being drawn in over gritted teeth in unsteady gasps of pleasure. " *NO!!!*" Harry screamed his denial of what he was seeing. "No!" he wailed, but the two men continued undisturbed, straining to pleasure each other with each movement of their frantic bodies. Harry wanted to rush forward to separate them but his limbs were frozen. He couldn't move them. "Why are you showing me this?!" Harry struggled against the invisible bonds holding him. "Why are you making this up to torture me? What have I done?!" "I am not the instrument of your torture, young Harry." Q winced with each of Picard's mighty thrusts into the body of his rival. "Your lover's faithlessness is the source of your pain. Just as my lover's is mine." "No!" Harry yelled. "This isn't happening. This is something *you* are doing!" Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the beads of sweat pouring down Tom's flushed face, the trembling of Tom's arms, the absolutely stunning backward thrust of his hips as he sought to match Picard's passion. Harry's stomach lurched sickeningly. "Oh no." Q's voice was quiet and viciously sarcastic. "This is happening right now in Jean-Luc's quarters on Voyager. It is *very* real." "Oh, yes!" Tom cried out in ecstasy as Picard slid his hand forward and grabbed the lieutenant's cock in a fierce grip. Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch any more. He felt he might pass out as the pain of Tom's betrayal washed over him. He wanted to cry. Maybe he would cry. Anything. Anything to ease this terrible pain. "Q . . ." Harry moaned pitifully. "Q, please! Please get me out of here." Harry swallowed his rising nausea. Then he felt cool smooth sheets under him again and let his body go limp, pressing his hot face into them. They grew wet beneath his cheek. Harry let the tears continue to fall, too weak to stop them. Q stood beside the bed, beside the weeping human and felt . . . Damn! He felt ashamed, he acknowledged to himself, not liking the feeling one bit. Picard was the one he wanted to hurt, and hurt badly. Not to mention what he wanted to do to that damn Paris whore! But here was Harry. Q almost snorted in self-disgust. Get his revenge on this quivering sobbing boy? He prided himself on the coldness of his omnipotent detachment, but even *his* cruelty had its limits. How could he be angry, let alone brutal with this beautiful young wounded creature before him? "Stop sniveling," he muttered, but Harry ignored him. Q reached out and pushed Harry over onto his back. "He doesn't deserve this weeping," Q assured him gruffly. Harry just continued the momentum of his roll, and lay on his stomach shuddering, facing away from Q now, burying his head in his arm. Q found himself involuntarily reaching out a large hand to pat Harry's hip soothingly. Even as he heard himself muttering something inane that sounded like "there, there," he was noticing the way the satin had slid down off of the long slim back and was pooled around Harry's hips. His hand on Harry stilled, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath the satin begin to soak into his palm pleasurably. Q wondered idly if the skin felt as soft and smooth as it looked; if it was as soft and smooth as the sheets that were failing to keep it covered. He moved closer on the big bed and started to stroke the muscles of Harry's back. He moved his large hand soothingly down the long curve and then back up again. He stroked across the fine skin of Harry's shoulders and then down again to the curve of his hip. Without even thinking about it, he pushed the satin sheet off the hip and continued to stroke down over the long length of revealed leg. The leg hairs tickled his palm. They were just as soft as the skin. What a beauty, he was thinking. Harry had stilled under that caress. When the long fingers reached his toes and slid gently across the pads, he turned over and stared with big wide questioning and frightened eyes at the entity. "Q . . ." Harry choked. He swallowed loudly. "Q, you're not going to . . ." Harry couldn't say the words. Q studied Harry's expression and decided he didn't like it. He didn't want Harry to be frightened of him. In fact, he didn't want to hurt Harry at all any more. He wanted to . . . well, he wanted to . . . *comfort* Harry. Yes, he smiled to himself, liking this new idea. And in comforting Harry, he also wanted to give Harry pleasure. If he could please Harry; if he could draw Harry to him . . . Yes. Perhaps this would be an even sweeter revenge. Take Tom Paris' lover away from him. Make him forget Tom Paris ever existed. Picard could stew and worry and object to his heart's content. He'd just have to sit back and watch it happen. There would be nothing that either of them could do. He was going to make Harry *his*, and there were much better ways to do it than rape. "I'm sorry, Harry." Q smiled, letting the curve of it soften his lips. "I was hurt and angry. I wanted to hurt them back." He let some of his real feelings of betrayal and pain show in his eyes. "I'm sorry. None of this is your fault." He let his fingers trail lightly over Harry's toes. Harry pulled his feet away, surprised and relieved when Q made no move to stop him. He sat up and pulled the satin sheet back over himself, covering his lower body completely. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously. "I mean, I'll take you back to your quarters now, if you like." Q's smile was rueful. "I do like," Harry said. Q studied the solemn tear-stained face before him. "Are you sure?" Harry's eyes narrowed immediately in suspicion. "What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I'm sure." Q sighed heavily. He turned his back towards Harry and shifted fully onto the bed. He slowly pulled off the boots to his Starfleet uniform. They fell with two soft thuds onto the woven rug beside the bed. "What I mean is . . . right now I'm feeling like . . . I'm *drowning* in the . . . pain," he winced, "of Picard's betrayal." He reached both hands up and rubbed them over his face. "It's a particularly . . . awful feeling, if you must know." He sighed again. "I think . . . I mean, I feel . . ." Q paused for a long moment and then turned to look into Harry's pain-filled eyes. "I am hurting." Q blurted it out, not even knowing where that confession came from. He'd better be careful. This was supposed to be revenge, wasn't it? There was no change in expression on Harry's face. "I just thought . . ." Q continued. "I know you're hurting too . . ." Q couldn't seem to get a whole sentence out. There was still no change on Harry's face, he noticed. So maybe he wasn't doing too bad, he thought. "I thought maybe . . . well, maybe . . ." He stopped. There had been a flicker of something in Harry's face. Was that a blush? "I wondered if you might want to stay." He saw Harry look away. "With me, here . . . for a while." He lay down, stretching out across the bed and tentatively reached out one hand to just brush one of Harry's feet. "If you want to," he finished. Q kept quiet for long moments, letting Harry think about it. In the meantime, he watched the flicker of firelight play across the high cheekbones, glimmer on the black hair, and paint warmth on all that taut bronze skin over the smooth planes of bone and muscle. He found himself wanting to touch those flat brown nipples. He wondered if they changed colour when stimulated, say, with a tongue; a warm wet tongue, drawn slowly across them. He felt a stirring of interest between his legs and lifted one forward. Turning onto his stomach, he pressed that interested flesh into the sheets beneath him. He looked up suddenly for some reason and found Harry watching the gentle thrust of his hips. He flushed and looked away. Caught. "You want me." Harry's voice was soft despite the accusation. Q smiled sheepishly. He still couldn't meet Harry's eyes. "Did you really kidnap me to get your revenge on Tom and Picard?" was the surprising thing Harry asked. "Or was it just a convenient excuse to take what you felt you couldn't get any other way?" Q flushed. "If you want the honest-to-goodness truth . . ." Q chuckled with self-deprecation. "I'm not really sure myself." He looked at Harry and to his astonishment, found he *was* voicing the honest-to-goodness truth. It quite startled him for a moment. "Maybe it was a little bit of both." He let his eyes wander over Harry's features for a moment, coming to rest on his full lips. Harry turned his face away again and Q found himself admiring the long taut neck muscles and the way they flowed into the straight shoulders. "But if you want to go back to your quarters, I'll send you there." His eyes fell to Harry's hands. The ensign was smoothing the satin of the bronze sheets between his fingers as he sat with them pooled between his crossed legs. "Do you want me, Q?" "Yes." Q met the dark brown eyes. Were they saying something to him? "How badly?" Q lifted a languid hand and his clothing disappeared in a flash of light. He rolled to his side and watched as Harry's eyes fell to view the evidence of exactly how much Q wanted him. Then Harry pushed away the satin sheets, pulling his feet free, stretching out his legs in front of him until his feet came to rest just inches from Q's chest. There, rising from the nest of black curls at the apex of Harry's thighs, was the evidence of Harry's own desire. "Yes." Q's response was immediate. His cock jerked and hardened. "Please, Harry," were the words that spilled from his lips. Q was shocked still for a moment. Who would have thought he could say *that* word to anyone but Picard? He raised his eyes to Harry's and saw evidence of desire there too. He bent his head and began to caress Harry's feet with massaging fingers and gentle kisses. "Yes." Harry lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Tom didn't want him anymore, but Q did, for whatever reason. And right now, it just felt so good to have someone touching him, soothing away the hurt, making him forget. Maybe it would be okay. --- The End?