"You know, he's ticklish," Janeway says.
"Excuse me, I'm right here." Q manages an almost convincing impression of someone who's genuinely put out. "If you want to talk about me behind my back, you could at least wait until I'm incorporeal."
She keeps her face as deadpan as she can, though she can't quite help the tiniest bit of a grin quirking her lips. "Not so much his neck, but his sides and the bottom of his feet. Have you ever noticed that?"
Picard, equally deadpan but with a twinkle in his eye, shakes his head. "I can't say I ever have, no. I do believe you, but it sounds implausible."
"Oh, it doesn't work when he has full access to his powers," she says. "He won't let himself feel it then."
Picard raises an eyebrow. "You got Q to give up his powers?" he asks. "Even temporarily... that sounds dangerous. Or was it a Q matter, and you were just taking advantage of the situation to tickle him?"
"She would, you know," Q complains. "Not that you have room to talk, given that *you* threw me in a brig. I'm beginning to think that all of you human starship captains are hopeless perverts."
"His, uh, ex gave me a gift," Janeway says, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice at Q's pouting expression. "Some sort of Q devices that block his powers, but manifest in our dimension as cuffs and chains. We've used them a few times." She leans against Picard and whispers in his ear conspiratorily, well aware that Q can hear everything she's saying. "He claims he only does it for my sake, but I think he secretly loves it."
"Hello, still here," Q says.
"You're not concerned that something might happen while he's powerless?" Picard asks.
Janeway shakes her head. "According to him, he *can* break them any time he wants to... it just takes effort. And he still can't die even with them on, so I'm not worried about hurting him." She grins, finally, remembering the last time Q let her tie him up with the power blockers. The memory is arousing. "Teasing him until he begs, maybe, but I think you and I can both agree, he deserves a little bit of teasing."
"I'm almost jealous," Picard says playfully. "Q, you never mentioned that temporarily blocking your powers as a bedroom game was an option."
"Why?" Q asks. "Would you have been interested? Given how much you complained and how little sympathy you gave me when I really lost my powers..."
"I think there's a big difference between you being genuinely helpless, and a game," Picard says. "I would never want you to lose your powers again. But the fact that if you choose to know exactly what I'm going to do before I do it, I can't stop you, does take certain options off the table, and if there's a way to temporarily block your powers... What does it do? Does it essentially limit you to human senses and abilities?"
"Mon capitaine, you sound positively intrigued. Does the thought of having me at your mercy really excite you so much?" Q's tone is sardonic, but his eyes are too wide, too intent, for him to be genuinely dispassionate.
"Wouldn't anyone want you at their mercy if they could get you to put yourself there?" Janeway asks, amused. She slides her hand behind his head, where he's sitting up against the headboard of the bed next to her, runs her fingers through his hair and then pulls him down to her to nibble on his earlobe. "You can admit it in front of Jean-Luc, you know. You love it. You don't have to pretend with either of us."
"You're insatiable, Kathy. Are you sure poor Jean-Luc can keep up with us? He *is* fifteen years older than you, after all."
Picard mock-scowls. "I'm not dead yet, Q. If Kathryn wants another round, I'm quite capable of doing my part."
Q looks across Janeway at Picard. "Yes, I can see that. I had no idea that my temporarily giving up my powers was such an exciting fantasy for you, Jean-Luc."
"It *is* something you and I have never done together," Picard points out. He sits up, one arm going around Janeway's back to pull her close and cup a breast, the other tracing Q's jawline with a finger. "But if you're frightened of what I might do to you if I had control over you, I completely understand."
Q leans forward across Janeway, his face even with both hers and Picard's. "Moi? Afraid? It is to laugh." He turns to Janeway, so close she could kiss him. "Did you have something in mind when you started telling Jean-Luc about our kinkier games, or were you just trying to make him jealous because he's never had a chance to tickle me?"
"Of course I did," she says, almost purring. "Both of you, tell me if this sounds appealing. I want to use the cuffs of the shackles, just the cuffs, to block Q's powers and bind his wrists together. And then, I would love it if Jean-Luc would collaborate with me on teasing Q until he forgets his name. Which, given that he's a superintelligent entity and it's just one letter, might take a lot of teasing."
Q's eyes are totally fixed on her, his breathing just slightly harder than usual. "I might be persuadable, if Jean-Luc likes the idea as much as you do."
"That does sound rather exciting, actually," Picard says, his tone casual and teasing, but his cock is stiffening against her hip. "But what would we have to do to persuade you?"
"I can't give you *all* the answers, Jean-"
Janeway shuts him up with a rough kiss, pushing him back up against the headboard. She's got one hand in his hair and one playing with his nipple. After a moment, Picard joins her, climbing over her legs to kneel on Q's other side. One of his hands strokes Q's knee, pulling his leg away from the other so he can get into position to get his mouth on Q's cock. Q moans.
And then Janeway sits up. "Well, Q? What do you think?"
Q groans. "It is totally unfair of you to ask me to consent to bondage when Jean-Luc's giving me a blow job," he says, panting.
She laughs. He's complaining for form's sake; she knows from experience he's perfectly capable of saying no to her if he wants to. "Completely unfair. Do you want it?"
"I don't suppose I could get you *and* Jean-Luc to pay attention to me at the same time any other way," he says with mock petulance. There's a flash, and he's holding two sets of cuffs out to Janeway. "But you'd better not tickle me."
That, of course, means she's absolutely going to tickle him, and he knows it. She grins at him. "We won't do anything you don't want us to do," she says. "Would you like to have a safeword?"
He rolls his eyes. "I've never managed to grasp why humans would make up silly substitute words for 'stop' when the word 'stop' is perfectly serviceable."
Jean-Luc lifts his head. "As long as you're fine with stop meaning stop, that should work fine."
She does Q's wrists, and hooks them together in front of him. Jean-Luc does his ankles. Q shivers as the last cuff goes on. "You know I could get free of these if I wanted to," he says.
"I believe Kathryn mentioned that," Jean-Luc says, clasping one of Q's hands in his and then lifting, pulling Q's hands up over his head. "I actually find it very reassuring. I'd hardly want the Calamarain to come attack this base because we were playing bedroom games in the admiral's suite." Q's taller than Jean-Luc, but enough of it is in his legs that Jean-Luc can easily reach to pin Q's wrists against the wall, above the headboard. Q's eyes are wide, his breathing hard, his cock rigid. Janeway has a bit of a taste for seeing Q dominated, but she's only ever seen it when she's doing it herself. Jean-Luc topping Q, his eyes focused on Q's with laser intensity, his mouth close enough to Q's face to kiss or bite, is utterly mesmerizing to her. She runs one hand over Q's leg, up toward his groin and then skipping over to his other leg without ever touching his genitals, as her other hand reaches between her legs and lightly strokes herself, teasing herself.
"Oh, you're so butch, mon capitaine," Q says archly. "Prove what a big manly man you are."
He's mocking Picard, obviously, but Picard plays it straight. "Oh, I intend to," he says. "Because I noticed something you overlooked, Q."
"Oh? What was that?"
"You never asked *me* not to tickle you."
He's goosing Q under the arm, then, and tickling along Q's side, and Q kicks and thrashes and laughs helplessly, and Janeway sees her chance to do what she's wanted to do for years. She pins one of Q's frantically kicking legs down against her body weight, holds the other down with a leg and an arm, and starts licking at Q's cock. Normally, the fact that he's so tall makes it hard for her to reach his most ticklish places and suck his cock at the same time, but she's always wanted to see how he'd react, and Jean-Luc handling the tickling part is giving her the opportunity. There's no rhythm to what she's doing, no pattern, because he's still struggling and as a result she's actually missing her target half the time, but then, Q likes unpredictability, so she doesn't think he'll mind the randomness, yet. He gasps, and whimpers, and keeps breaking into helpless laughter, but he doesn't tell either of them to stop. She suspects he won't; Q's pride keeps him from admitting that he can't handle something mortals are doing to him unless it's physically painful or he finds it truly unpleasant, and in her expert opinion, what she's about to do to him will probably eliminate any chance that he would *want* them to stop.
She finally gets her mouth around his cock, despite his thrashing. Q makes a sound she's actually never heard him make before, something almost like a squeal, and he writhes and struggles and thrusts his hips up against her mouth. The sounds he's making go muffled for a moment. She glances up. Jean-Luc is kissing his mouth, hard, as he's pinning Q's arms up with one hand and tickling him mercilessly with the other. It's so goddamn hot she wants to impale herself on one of them right now, but she wouldn't have made captain, let alone admiral, if she had no self-discipline. With her free hand, she caresses Q's balls, and then pushes a finger slowly into his ass.
Q comes hard in her mouth, his screams still muffled against Jean-Luc's kiss. She waits until he stops bucking, and then sits up, releasing him. Jean-Luc does the same.
Q looks at them both. "They teach you that kind of teamwork at the Academy?" he asks, panting.
"We've picked it up along the way," Janeway says dryly.
Picard nuzzles Q's neck briefly, then murmurs in his ear, but not so quietly that Janeway can't hear him. "Tell me, mon petit dieu, how quickly do you think we could get you ready again?"
Q lifts his bound wrists, which had fallen into his lap when Picard released him. "Instantly, if you take these off me."
Picard chuckles. "That would miss the point," he says, in a low, almost dangerous voice, chocolate and silk poured over steel. Janeway shivers slightly. She's not much of a sub, herself, and she and Picard haven't played power games in bed since they got involved... but when he talks like this, she half-wishes he'd tie *her* up and give her orders. She's an admiral, but he's an ambassador, retired from Starfleet, outside of any chain of command. She never has been his subordinate or his commander in real life. Which is exactly why it would be hot to pretend. But he's topping Q, now, something she enjoys doing herself when Q lets her, and that's even hotter.
"You see, Q," Picard says in that warm murmur with iron underneath it, "I intend to fuck you. I think, in fact, that you owe me that, now. But Kathryn deserves satisfaction from you as much as I do. So what I need to know, before I take you, is whether I should spend a little while getting you ready so Kathryn and I can ride you at the same time, or if she should expect that you'll have to use your mouth to please her while I'm having you."
Q's eyes have gone wide again, his breathing getting a bit ragged again, and there's the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. "Let's just say that when I designed this body, I was already not a fan of the human male refractory period." Now it's a full smirk. "You're both creative, for lesser life forms. I'm sure that if Kathy would rather have my cock than my mouth, the two of you could get me back in a position to do that for her in a sufficiently short while to make it worth doing."
Janeway climbs off the bed and walks up to the headboard, sitting back down next to Q's head and upper body, on the other side of him from Picard. "Oh, I'd definitely rather," she says, running her hand over his abdomen and up to his nipple, tweaking it gently and making him sigh. "Are you willing to wait, Jean-Luc?"
"Of course," Picard says, and nuzzles Q's neck again. Q squirms, half-whimpering, losing the superior smirk as his eyes go unfocused and his expression half-pleading, half-lost in pleasure and anticipation. "But not for very long."