The BLTS Archive- A Civil Conversation
by Reesa (skbtf@mediaone.net)

---

As we all know, Paramount owns the rights to Star Trek and anything
and everything connected to it.  Me, I've got this story and an empty
bag of potato chips.  Obviously, while I was working hard on this
story, someone snuck over and ate them all.  Yeah, sure, that's it. 
I'd trade you, Paramount, but all of a sudden, for some reason, I'm
feeling really thirsty, and I have to go get a drink.

Feel free to archive, but make sure my name stays on this.

Big thanks go out to Ruth for her encouragement to finish this baby
and giving me hints to help me find Jean-Luc's voice.  Ruth, I'm
afraid I mislead you slightly in my last e-mail.  I said that you
wouldn't believe how much Jean-Luc talks, implying that he says a lot. 
Well, I counted.  He's got a whopping total of eighteen sentences.   I
practically wrote a conversation between the two of them with one of
them barely speaking.

Okay, background music time.  This time something a little different.
How about "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys?  Nothing like
longing and harmonies to set the right mood.

---

Standing at the window in Jean-Luc’s bedroom, with the light of the
stars shining in as the Enterprise goes by, may make me look all
broody and mysterious, but there are two problems with this picture. 
One, I always look dark and broody even in the full light, and, two,
the only one I would want to impress with this pose is sound asleep.

That's it, Q, you've hit the proverbial wall.  The Continuum has
decided that rebuilding after our little tiff is more important than
testing a pathetic little human.  No hoop for Jean-Luc and his beloved
crew to jump through.  By the time the rest of the Q gets around to
remembering about humanity, Jean-Luc, and at the rate their going, all
humanity, will be dust.  Face it, Q, if you want to be with Jean-Luc,
you're going to have to do it yourself.  No convenient excuses.  Just
me.

Well, Q, now for the sixty-four dollar question:  how do make a human
see you?  Swell!  I'm omnipotent, and I cant think of a single reason
to stop in to see Jean-Luc.

"Damn."

From behind me I hear a rustle of bedclothes, and then softly a voice
asks, "Q?"

I don't know what's more surprising, that I let myself be seen and
heard by Jean-Luc or the fact that his voice doesn't sound hostile.  I
donut turn around.  Might as well let him admire the pose now that he
can see me.  Besides, I don't need to turn around to know what is
behind me. Despite being a Q, the sight of Jean-Luc sitting up in bed,
looking all relaxed and inviting would definitely be too much even for
me.

"Hello, Jean-Luc.  Sorry to wake you."

There's a pause before he answers.  I can almost hear his mind
searching for the "appropriate" thing to say.  "What are you doing
here, Q?"

I've never heard Jean-Luc speak to me that way before.  Oh, the
Captain has asked, no, ordered me to answer that question and others
like it, but not Jean-Luc.

A thousand answers rip through my mind, from a sarcastic, "Anything I
want.  After all, I'm Q." to a philosophical, "My place in the
universe is actually a complex issue that would take a millennia to
explain."   I discard these and many others, and instead decide to go
with the reply that I'm least comfortable with--the truth.

"I don't know, Jean-Luc.  I really don't know."

With this I turn around.  Just as I feared.  He looks too good in that
tussled bed.  He's watching me with cautious eyes.  Waiting to see if
this is some kind of trick.  Wondering what I have up my sleeve. 
Silly mortal, it's not what is up my sleeve, it's what's on it.  My
heart.

"Jean-Luc…"  I stop unsure what I want to say.  Some how bursting out
with "I love you, Jean-Luc" seems a little gauche in a relationship
that up until know has consisted of insults, sparring, and out-and-out
physical danger.  And that's just my side.

"Q, what ever it is, I might be of some help."

I snort out loud and ask to myself, "Help, Jean-Luc?  You're the
problem."

"Me?  How can I have caused you a problem?"

Oookay.  Maybe that wasn't to myself.  I don't know what's wrong with
me.  I should just leave and never come back.  Go off and find some
other race to study.  There must be thousands of others who are more
worth of my attention than these pathetic mortals.  That's it.  I'm
leaving.

I cast one last glance at Jean-Luc, and instead of leaving, I find
myself walking towards him. Damn, damn, damn.  I can't seem to get
control of the situation.  As I seat myself down on the edge of his
bed, I realize that he's been rubbing off on me.  And not in any way I
would find pleasurable.  The Q I was before Jean-Luc would have been
out of here in a flash.  Literally.  The new and improved Q can't.  I
can't because that's not what Jean-Luc would do.  He faces a problem
head on.

He's looking intently at my face.  I wonder what he sees.  Does he see
the mask I've always kept in place whenever I'm around him?  Or with
my control shattered, can he read how much I want, love, and, yes,
even need him.  He has known me for so long, but can he recognize
these things on a face that up until know has only displayed scorn,
disbelieve, and malice.  I can't even look into his eyes.  What if all
I see is rejection, or worse, pity?  His contempt or his anger is
easily withstood. I don't think I could bear his pity.

Carefully, like one would approach a wild animal, Jean-Luc reaches out
and takes a hold of my hand. "Let me help you, Q."  That statement,
and the tone it's spoken in, forces me to lift my eyes and meet his.

Those sharp eyes are completely focused on me, and there is no trace
of pity.  It takes my breath away.  Well, it would if I actually
breathed. This may be wishful thinking, but the look on his face is
one I recognize.  I've seen it on my own for the past ten
years--desire.

"Let me help you."  He says again.  I look away from those eyes and
down to where our hands are joined on among the bedcovers.  It's too
easy. After all this time, all this watching and waiting, I can't
believe that this is all I had to do.  Come to him honestly, without
any words or tricks to shield me.  To just be myself.  Part of the old
Q is telling me to just take what is offered, but the new Q has to be
sure that it is really what Jean-Luc wants.

"Be sure, Jean-Luc.  Be very sure.  If you do this, I won't let you
go. Ever."

In answer, he reaches out with his other hand to caress my cheek.
Slipping that hand around my neck, he pulls me forward and gives me a
gentle kiss.  The kiss is a promise.  A promise to stay to the end.

When he finishes, he pulls back to meet my eyes.  Ever the tactician,
wanting to see my reaction so he can plot his next move.  I have to
laugh.  Not the mean-spirited laugh that he's heard before, but a
laugh of pure joy.  Jean-Luc smiles, and I'm struck by his masculine
beauty.

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, I've placed my lips to
his.  This first kiss is a kiss of passion.  It's as if I'm trying to
pore ten years of wanting in to it.  I break away only when it become
obvious Jean-Luc needs to breathe.  He quickly gulps in a lungful of
air, then pulls me back for a kiss of his own.

Soon, our hands are running all over each other's bodies.  Now is not
the time for slow, gentle exploration.  That will come later.  This
time is about satisfying the urges that have built up for over ten
years. This is love making as a basic need.

Tearing his mouth from mine, Jean-Luc works his way over my throat and
up to my ear.  Once there, he whispers, "Don't you think we both have
too many clothes on?"

Clever, Captain.  Always knows how to delegate the minor details so he
can focus on the larger picture.  As I make our clothes vanish,
Jean-Luc works on finding a spot on my neck guaranteed to turn me into
a puddle. If one didn't exist, I'd make one just for him to find.

Jean-Luc raises his head, and we pause, just staring at one another.
Admiring the other's form and shape.  Granted, I've seen him before,
but never when that desire was directed toward myself.  It's almost
too much to bear.  We move toward each other.  Arranging our bodies,
anticipating that first touch of skin to skin, and when it comes, both
of us let out moans of ecstasy.  This is what mortal's dream heaven is
like.

Now almost constantly kissing, we begin to move together in a way that
is as old as humanity itself.  The friction of our bodies rubbing
against each other--the chills that run down my spine every time our
nipples touch or the heat that explodes in my brain when our cock
brush--is better than I could have ever dreamed.

Reaching down, I begin to use my hand to increase that sweet feeling
for Jean-Luc.  All those Saturday nights have certainly paid off.  I
know exactly where to touch him to make him feel out of control.

After a few minutes of constant moaning, Jean-Luc finally manages to
get out a coherent word.  "Q, please!"

"Please, what?"

"Fuck me!"

In response, I give him a smile bright enough to run the Enterprise's
warp engines off of and kiss of pure love.

Releasing his cock, I trace down that cleft until I find the center of
him.  After summoning some lubrication, I carefully work one finger
into him.  The sound he makes, part pleasure, part pain, is so
beautiful.

Resting my entire weight on him, I begin to rain kisses all over his
face as I slowly work my finger in and out of him.  As I feel him
loosening up, I add another finger, and then another.  At this point,
Jean-Luc is thrusting his hips in time with my fingers, desperately
seeking release.

Raising myself up on my knees, I withdraw my fingers.   I push
Jean-Luc's knees up to his chest, then carefully, I begin to enter
him. Moving slowly so I don't cause him pain, I ease my cock into
Jean-Luc. The look on his face is one I've seen before.  The one he
wears just before he pulls himself back from the brink of ecstasy. 
Not this time. This time he won't be able to hold on to his precious
control.

Once I've sheathed myself in Jean-Luc, I have to stop for a moment and
savor the exquisite pleasure of it.  I want it to last forever.  But I
also want what will happen next, so I slowly pull back out of
Jean-Luc, until just the crown of me remains.  Then I slide back in. 
Over and over again.  Each time I go a little faster.  Soon, I'm
slamming back into him.

All I can hear is Jean-Luc's moans that match every stroke in and out.
All I can see is that beautiful face, flushed with pleasure.  All I
can feel are Jean-Luc's hands, roaming over my body, touching wherever
he can.  For me, it pushes me toward that edge, but I can't go over
yet. Not with out Jean-Luc.

I reach down and began to stroke Jean-Luc in the same way he touches
himself every Saturday night.  I follow his set pattern.  First the
shaft, then the crown, and, finally, his balls.  The stimulation is
too much, and Jean-Luc climaxes over my hand and his chest.

The feeling of his muscles tightening, the look on his face, and the
sound of his voice calling my name is all it takes.  I throw myself
off the cliff after Jean-Luc.  I don't even care where, or even if,
I'll land.  All I care about is that I'll be with Jean-Luc.  My lover.

Time passes as both of us recover.  Once I have enough wits about me,
I roll of Jean-Luc to lie next to him.  With a thought, we are both
clean and dry.  As the silence stretches out between us, I begin to
grow a little nervous.  Then Jean-Luc leans up on his elbow and looks
it to my face.

"Well.  Now I know exactly where you've been spending your Saturday
nights."  The wicked grin on his face tells me he is not annoyed. 
"You should have said something then.  After all, it was you I was
thinking of."

"Jean-Luc, you never cease to amaze me."

"I certainly hope not.  I wouldn't want the great Q to grow bored." 
He pauses, and his teasing face drops away for a more serious one. 
"Q, I'm not sure how we are going to continue this relationship…"

I cut him off before he can continue, "Jean-Luc, there will be plenty
of time to deal with the fallout of what is happening between us.  Put
the captain away for now, and just let Jean-Luc enjoy the moment."

I can see the silent battle playing out as duty and passion war.  For
the first time since I've met him, I see passion win.

Jean-Luc moves himself above me and gives me a kiss.

"For now, Jean-Luc will have his way, and the Captain can go hang if
he doesn't like it."

Ah, that's my beloved Jean-Luc.

"Now, if I remember correctly, during our lovemaking you made sure
that I was the one to come first.  This time I think it should
definitely be you who goes first."  With this Jean-Luc begins to move
his lips down my chest and proceeds to trail wet kisses down to my
stomach.

"Well, Jean-Luc, you know what they say.  Nice Q's finish last."

---

The End