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PropinQuity, 9- 2 (trek)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
From: [email protected] (mercutio)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q,alt.sex.fetish.startrek,alt.startrek.creative
Subject: REPOST: PropinQuity, 9-2
Date: Mon Jul 24 01:06:28 1995
This is an alternate story based on "Only Human" by Alara
Rogers ([email protected]), although it isn't in her continuity.
I got sufficiently obsessed by the story "Only Human" that I
wrote an alternate set in this universe. Alara's permission has
been secured for this.
Also, this story contains sex, so if that sort of thing bothers
you, you might want to skip out now.
All chapters of PropinQuity are available by FTP at ftp.europa.com,
in the directory /outgoing/mercutio/PropinQuity/. The index is
also available by FTP at ftp.europa.com, as
/outgoing/mercutio/IndexToPropinQuity.txt. They can also be
downloaded through the WWW. The WWW address is:
http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/PropinQuity.html.
PropinQuity by Mercutio; based on "Only Human" by Alara
Rogers
Q panicked, and rolled over, almost catching Naomi in the
mouth with his knee. She lost her balance, and sprawled over
him.
Q tried to sit up, but her lying there holding him down
combined with his panic kept him from making any effectual
move.
"What's wrong?" Naomi asked.
"That!" Q said, utterly shocked. "And what you did to my
back! It's, it's *burning*."
Naomi nodded, amused. "That's the idea. It's supposed to feel
good, to help with loosening up your muscles. Is it working?"
Q paused, caught between outrage, fear, and humiliation that he
had once again overreacted to something basic to human
existence. "If you mean, is it eating a hole into my back, then
yes," he said acidly.
"Good," Naomi said calmly, shifting slightly to make herself
more comfortable, but not offering to move away from him.
"*Good*? You heartless little fiend."
Naomi's eyes sparkled. "Endearments will get you nowhere
with me, Q." Then she sobered. "This is a very common
lotion. Li assures me that it'll have no adverse effects on you,
unless you try to eat it or rub it into your eyes. All it does is
help relax your muscles. It's nothing special, nothing addictive,
nothing harmful. It's very low-tech, which is why Li approved
of it. Generally they take care of pain with hypos, but in your
case..." Naomi's voice trailed off. She didn't want to make any
accusations about his addiction or possible addiction to
painkillers, but it was a well-established fact that Q had abused
them. Of course, with a body as messed up as his, Naomi
could understand why he'd thought it necessary. However, a
pharmaceutical solution only covered up the underlying
problems; it didn't solve them.
A sinking feeling went through Q. Yes, once again he'd
overreacted to something simple. To cover his shame, he
asked, "So why haven't I heard of this before if everyone knows
about it?"
Naomi shrugged. "How often did you have backrubs before?"
Q glared at Naomi. She knew the answer to that. He hadn't.
All he'd had were extremely painful "adjustments" performed
by Li or one of his assistant torturers. And one very different
experience with Amy Frasier that Q would have preferred to
forget entirely.
Naomi waited for a moment for an answer, and when she didn't
get one, assumed that Q was out of objections. She slid off of
him, then tapped him on the side, indicating that he should roll
over.
With one last pointed stare, Q did, allowing her access to his
back again. He regretted it almost immediately. The flow of
air across his back made the cool/hot sensation even worse. He
shuddered, and immediately Naomi's hands were on his back,
smoothing down his spine, gentling him.
Naomi felt his tension under her hands, not just the tension of
tight muscles, but also the coiled tension of someone who was
not particularly happy with where they found themself. She ran
her hands lightly from his shoulders to his waist, trying to
comfort him, wondering if this had really been such a bright
idea.
Q quivered under her hands. He couldn't take this any longer,
couldn't take the... He paused in his thoughts to analyze the
sensation. Actually, once you got used to it, it really wasn't all
that bad. The coolness was dripping down into his muscles,
getting at all the places that even Naomi, for all her deftness,
couldn't get to. He flexed experimentally. His back still hurt,
still felt painfully seized up in his lower back, but where she'd
rubbed that horrible burning stuff, it actually felt looser. Not
entirely better, but not nearly as painful either.
He relaxed into the bed then, as much as he was capable of
relaxing, and let her do what she wanted to him.
Naomi felt that relaxation as a subtle lessening of the tension
under her hands, and breathed a small sigh of relief. She knew
that this *would* be a good thing for Q, if he'd accept it. If he
hadn't accepted it, it could be the panacea for every ill, and it
would still do him no good.
She took the tube again, and rubbed more ointment into her
hands before starting in on Q again.
"That feels... incredible," Q said, voice slightly muffled by the
pillow.
Naomi used the heels of her hands to get at the much too tight
muscles of his lower back. "Good. You're not supposed to feel
bad all the time, you know."
"A byproduct of being human," Q said lightly, before his tone
turned dark. "Your whole existence is nothing but a long slide
into decay and death. It's a wonder you don't all commit
suicide as a race like the lemmings that you are, rather than face
the utter meaninglessness of your petty lives."
Naomi felt his muscles give slightly under her hands and was
delighted. Too often all she could do to his lower back was
smooth over the tension; it was simply too tight and spasmed for
her to have any effect. But apparently, the ointment was
helping.
Q felt the muscle reluctantly relax, responding with something
akin to fear. "What's that? Ahh. Do that again."
"So something is worth living for, after all," Naomi said,
amused, her hands returning to that spot. "Despite the futility
of our lives."
Q sighed as her fingers found the exact center of his pain and
spread that cooling heat on it, relieving him of the awful sick
tension he'd been dragging around with him for days now.
What was she babbling about? "You have no concept for the
word meaning. Hardly a surprise, since you are, after all, only
human."
"I try my best," Naomi said with a smirk, then got more serious
as she attacked his spine. "Besides, meaning is where you find
it. If you enjoy what you're doing with your life, what more
meaning do you need?"
Q snorted, then sighed again with pleasure as she loosened the
muscles around his spine which were holding it too tightly and
keeping it out of alignment. "And then you die, and what have
you done with your life? *Enjoyed* yourself? What kind of
statement is that to make?"
"A pretty damn good one, I'd say. What kind of statement did
you have in mind, 'I was miserable, but I built a few
pyramids'?" Naomi emphasized her point by patting him on the
shoulder. "I don't think so. Making a lasting physical
monument is fine, but it's utterly pointless as a life statement
unless you enjoyed doing it."
"And you feel that a better life statement would be, 'Had a little
sex, ate a lot of chocolate and died with a smile'?"
Naomi stopped to consider that one. "Has a nice ring to it,
don't you think?"
"As opposed to 'Mass murderer', yes."
Naomi grinned, and dug more deeply into his shoulders,
producing a small wince of pain from Q, who really was more
tight than any normal person should be, or any person should
have to be. Exchanging insults with Q was entertaining. She
didn't know many people currently who she'd give a backrub to,
but in her experience, the person being catered to usually just
laid there and moaned. It was a boring experience from her
point of view. However, this was fun. Naomi took a quick
glance down the length of Q's naked body. And the view
wasn't bad either.
"Were you thinking of changing careers, then?" Naomi asked.
"To become a mass murderer, I mean?"
Q ignored that comment as entirely irrelevant. "How do you
people stand it? Going on about your lives, knowing at any
minute that it could be over?"
Naomi didn't pause in her kneading of his shoulders. Compared
to his lower back, they were almost loose and relaxed.
Comparatively. "We ignore it completely and pretend that it
doesn't matter."
"Doesn't *matter*? Your whole race is engaged in self-
delusion?"
Naomi shrugged, hands moving up to his neck. "Can't speak
for everyone, but I'd say that's a good way to put it. We're all
going to die sometime. To obsess about it, or to let that impact
my actions, well... I'd never get anything done for worrying, if
I thought about it."
"But you *do* think about it."
Naomi stopped, sitting up, letting her hands rest lightly on his
shoulders. "It scares me silly to think that someday there won't
be anymore *me*, that something will happen and I just won't
be. Thinking about it terrifies me." She shuddered
involuntarily, feeling cold and frightened.
Q couldn't see her expression. "You're a mere human. You
have no concept of what terror is. You're *supposed* to cease
existing. *I'm* Q. I was *supposed* to go on forever."
The whole topic was too much for Naomi. She didn't want to
talk about this, would prefer not even to think about it. Death
was something she just had to handle; she didn't have any
choice about it. Obsessing on the subject only drove her crazy.
She dropped down beside Q, nudging him slightly. He rolled
up on his side to look at her, and Naomi burrowed into his arms
immediately, holding him tightly.
If she'd asked him for comfort, Q would have derided her for
childishness. If she'd *offered* comfort, he would have
scorned her to hide his own weakness and need for it. But she
wasn't asking him anything, just *there*, holding him. His
arms came around her, and he dropped his face into her hair,
drawing a certain foolish sense of security from having her close
to him.
Safely hidden from view, and sheltered from her own fears,
Naomi spoke into his chest. "That's just the way things are.
So, what else can you do but to be happy? Giving in and saying
things are hopeless and there's no reason to do anything is
stupid. Being miserable is even stupider. To try to find what
happiness you can out of life is the only option that makes any
sense."
"Happiness? What a pitiful delusion," Q said, his voice soft,
almost comforting.
"Delusion, illusion, hallucination, whatever," Naomi said, her
warm breath brushing his bare chest. "Life is but a dream,
according to the old song..."
"No singing!" Q said, alarmed.
Naomi giggled slightly. "No singing," she promised, kissing
him by way of sealing the bargain. "All you can deal with is
what you see or think to be real. Personally, I'll leave it to the
philosophers to try to divine the real nature of the universe."
"They haven't got a clue," Q said grandly. "They're completely
off track."
"But even you, who knows so much about it, is unhappy,"
Naomi said quietly. "So there isn't much point to the
knowledge."
Q bowed his head further, almost brushing her cheek, tacitly
acknowledging the truth of her words. "But *happiness*? Next
you're going to say something about *love*."
Naomi giggled at the disgusted tone in his voice. She pulled
back slightly to look at him, dark head bent close to hers.
"Actually, I would have said something about sex. Close, but
not quite the same thing."
Q was about to make a scathing retort to that, one laced with a
cutting analysis of her fixation on sexuality, when Naomi
reached up, laying a hand on his cheek, and kissed him.
As soon as her lips touched his, Q was lost. He was lying here
naked, pressed up against a desirable woman, and his body
couldn't help having a sexual reaction to that.
Naomi squirmed to get more of herself in contact with him,
wishing she'd thought to take her clothes off first. She wanted
to feel his skin against hers, feel his hands, his mouth on her
breasts... she shuddered, clinging to him, already excited.
His mouth lay chastely closed under hers, but Naomi wanted
more. She parted her lips, her tongue darting out to lick his
lips. Hesistantly, they parted, and she kissed him again, more
deeply this time.
Q groaned low in his throat as Naomi plundered his mouth.
He'd forgotten about this variation. It was extremely
disgusting, as almost everything about human sexuality was,
exchanging saliva and pretending to like it, but even as he was
intellectually repulsed by it, he found this kind of kissing to be
exciting as well. The warm soft heat of her mouth reminded
him of what it felt to have that on another part of him. Without
his volition, he felt himself hardening against her, wanting this.
Why had he chosen to be human? Why hadn't he chosen to be
some sort of race that considered sex to be unnecessary?
Naomi pulled away from him, sitting up to tug her blouse off,
all the time conscious of his dark eyes on her. He didn't say a
word, and Naomi was glad. Something cutting about her
appearance would hurt her feelings at this point, even though
insults were more or less automatic to Q. But the look in his
eyes and the way his whole attention was centered on her more
than made up for any perceived lack of verbal compliments. He
was watching her as though she were the heart of his existence,
something without which he couldn't go on living. It wasn't
true, it couldn't be true, but Naomi felt it anyway, and it made
her feel enormously happy.
She squirmed about, pulling off her trousers in an undignified
manner, letting Q think what he wanted about her grace or lack
there of. It wasn't like she'd taken a class in this or anything.
But he didn't say anything to her at all, just laid there, his eyes
on her.
Naomi laid back down next to him, flushed and triumphant.
He trailed a lazy hand from her shoulder to her waist, and
Naomi shivered, lost in his eyes. Q was making the first move,
and she could get very, very used to this.
Q, for his part, was relishing the feeling of control. This was
so much easier than he had thought it would be. He'd been
terrified of sex, he admitted to himself. He'd deliberately
avoided it, even when his body demanded it, because he was
afraid he'd be bad at it and make a fool out of himself. Q knew
his appearance was still shoddy, especially when he was naked
and entirely vulnerable, but Naomi had seen him this way any
number of times and never criticized him, so he felt relatively
safe. He didn't believe that she found him to be good-looking.
She was deluded on that account; there could be no question of
that. However, it worked in his favor, so he shouldn't
complain.
He'd avoided sex, and anything that even looked like sex, with
a great passion, fearing his own desires more than anything else.
The Amy Frasier incident had only seemed to confirm the
wisdom of his decision. And what had happened with Harry did
not even bear thinking about. But with Naomi, everything was
different, and sex wasn't nearly all that hard.
Q avoided thinking about *why* it wasn't all that hard with
Naomi. She cared about him, didn't have any desire to make
fun of him, and was willing to put up with all of his little
clumsinesses and idiosyncracies. That was the truth, but Q
preferred to think of it as him having experience and skill.
After all, if these devolved monkey creatures could do it, how
difficult could it be for an advanced being like himself?
Naomi returned Q's gesture, reached out to him, and stroked his
chest lightly, not *quite* tickling him.
Q took her wrist, and replaced her arm by her side. Naomi
looked up into his eyes, realizing that he meant to take the lead
this time entirely. She shivered again, fine hairs raising all
along her body. This was going to be good.
He leaned over her, taking control of the kiss, and she gave in,
sinking back against the bed. His hand came up to her breast,
palm cupping it, while his thumb played idly with her nipple.
Naomi groaned, the sensation painfully ticklish and yet
pleasurable all at the same time.
Naomi bit Q's lip, very gently, to let him know that his teasing
was driving her crazy.
He pulled back then to look at her. Why was she always biting
him? "You bit me!"
"And what you going to do about it?" Naomi asked
challengingly, teasing him.
His hand drifted lower on her body, one fingertip tracing a
circle around her stomach, and then coming to rest on her hip.
"Patience. You'll find out."
Naomi trembled under that cool gaze, willing to let him do
anything he wanted to her, trusting him entirely.
An elegant, long-fingered hand made its way down her hip,
touching her inner thigh. Naomi shifted to let him inside,
opening herself up to him.
Q watched her reactions carefully, a secret delight hidden on his
face. She was so open right now, so *comfortable* in the
knowledge that she was going to get what she wanted. It was
going to be so very much fun to see her lose that composure and
beg for what she needed.
As one long finger dipped inside her, Naomi moaned. Yes, this
was right, this was what she needed. She dug her heels into the
bed, willing him to continue.
But he didn't. He resumed his slow stroking of her skin, hand
brushing down her thigh to her knee.
Naomi opened her eyes and looked at him. What kind of game
was he playing?
Q was totally fixated on her knee, watching his hand skim over
it, and then under, lightly tickling the sensitive skin beneath.
At first it was nothing, just a light caressing sensation, but as he
refused to move on, the feeling grew more intense. Naomi
flexed her leg, trying to keep from jerking it away and
scratching the spot, but it did no good. Q was relentless.
Naomi twitched, trying to control the horrible crawling
sensation, but it was useless.
Naomi tried to sit up, to struggle with him. "I can't do this,"
she said, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "Pl...
Please don't tickle me."
Q looked away from his hand and directly at Naomi, who was
biting her lip to keep from howling with laughter. "No."
Unable to do anything else, Naomi gave into him and into the
tickling sensation, shaking all over, the tickling coming very
close to making her kick Q.
After an endless time, he stopped, his hand moving back up,
and Naomi lay there trembling, feeling weak and watery.
Anyone else she would have struggled against, but she couldn't,
not with Q, not without possibly hurting him. And that made it
all so much worse, knowing she *had* to give in.
Of course, in this context, "worse" also meant "better".
His hand trailed along the inside of her thigh, and Naomi
tensed, waiting, expecting him to finally stop teasing.
And he did. His hand moved inside, and she sighed with the
sweet pain of it. Being tickled had only increased her need for
this, and every movement of his hand was a delicate torment.
Naomi twisted under his hand, unable to keep from moving,
legs shaking.
Through the haze of pleasure, Naomi was conscious of Q
watching her, his hooded gaze arousing her further.
Just when it seemed something was about to happen, Q pulled
away, and Naomi almost cried with frustration. Not *again*.
This was all very stimulating in fantasy, but in real life, it was
driving her crazy, making her think strange thoughts about
holding him down and forcing herself on him. On second
thought, maybe not so awful after all. She looked up at him, a
small smile playing across her face as she thought about holding
*him* down and having her wicked way with him. She was a
lot smaller than him, so normally she'd be physically incapable
of overpowering someone his size. But Q didn't seem to know
how large he was. It could happen.
Q didn't know what she was thinking, only saw the smile.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked darkly. If she'd begged then, he
would have relented, would have given her what she so
obviously wanted.
"Greatly," Naomi said, thinking of tickling him until *he*
begged for mercy.
Q smiled evilly. "Fine. If you like it so much, why don't we
continue this little game?"
Naomi was given no opportunity to respond, as Q leaned over
her, mouth going to her breast suckling on her nipple. He'd
certainly picked up on her weak spots, Naomi thought dazedly
as his tongue teased the tip of her nipple. Her fingers clutched
the bedspread, clawing at that covering, trying to remain in
control. But it was no use. His teeth closed on her, not nearly
hard enough and Naomi moaned low in her throat.
She needed him to touch her, couldn't take any more of this
teasing. It had all been too much, and while she was willing to
concede his skill here and anywhere he wanted, she couldn't do
this any longer.
But Q was merciless. This was all rather amusing to him.
Reducing an otherwise intelligent, capable woman into a
quivering heap of jelly was a diverting pastime that had never
quite occured to him before. Oh, it was still revoltingly
physical, but there was a certain entertainment factor here.
His hand moved down her overheated, overstimulated body and
she nearly whimpered with relief. Finally. Finally, he was
going to go through with this. She nuzzled against his shoulder,
nearly mindless with need.
And then his hand was between her legs, his fingers on her, and
Naomi almost cried at the sudden stab of pain. Not a sweet,
wanting pain now, but a real pain, intense with the sharpness of
having been denied for too long.
With a rapidity that frightened her, the desire she had been
feeling, now frustrated, backlashed through her body. She
wasn't going to be able to release it, there was no way she
could give it the outlet it needed, not when every touch of his
hand was sending a jolt of pure pain through her.
Naomi batted feebly at his hand, "Stop that."
Q leaned over her, not having picked up on the change. "Stop?
I don't think you want me to."
She couldn't feel anything but the pain and the need. The
frustration was jangling down her nerve endings and she hated
him with a sudden intense passion for doing this to her. "Yes.
I do," Naomi said crisply. When he didn't move immediately,
it was too much for her overworked nerves which were
screaming, "Throw him on the bed and fuck him!"
Naomi shoved at him. "Just leave me alone!"
Q withdrew, more than a little hurt, slightly panicked inside at
the way she was behaving and covering it all up with a mask of
indifference. "Alone? How narcissistic of you."
Rationally, Naomi knew that Q wasn't rejecting her with his
slight withdrawal, but she wasn't thinking rationally at the
moment. All she knew was that he was the cause of her feeling
like this, and she needed to strike out at something, anything.
"Go away! I hate you! You did this to me and I hate you!"
She pushed at him again, entirely too hard, and Q fell off the
edge of the bed.
He sat there on the floor for a moment, looking up at her,
startled. And then he drew his dignity around himself and stood
up. "Sex has obviously deranged your mind." Q stalked out.
Once out of the room, Q was at a loss. All of his clothes were
in there, and he wasn't about to face Naomi again. Not like
that. His entire body hurt. Partly from when she'd pushed him
onto the floor and partly due to... Q didn't even want to think
about it. That traitorous piece of flesh was throbbing and he
hurt. Ideas came to mind as to how to resolve that problem, but
he dismissed all of them, choosing instead to think about
Naomi. This was all her fault. He'd trusted her, let her beguile
him into sex, and look what it had gotten him!
On second thought, he didn't want to look. Q strode over to the
replicator and quickly sorted through the meager options
available to find a new outfit. He had to get out of there. He
couldn't stay here anymore, not as vulnerable as he felt.
When Naomi finally emerged, Q was gone. And, although she
waited, he didn't come back.
-the end-
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