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Days passed slowly at Starbase Earhart. Most graduates were happy to finally catch their breath for a moment after years of hard work. Others, like Jean-Luc, were more interested in finally getting their first real assignment.

Of course he would miss his friends, but just knowing he would—that didn’t change the fact he didn’t miss them yet. Besides, he had no company right now. Just waste of time.

The nearby bar was quiet at this hour. It was never really empty—Jean-Luc had learned years ago how little 24-hour Earth clock, or any other planetary cycles or measures of time, mattered in places like these; interplanetary crossroads, rest stops for the likes of him and his Starfleet colleagues. Still, some semblance of a circadian rhythm usually shone through no matter how much the outsiders muddied it. Hence, the bar remained open, but hardly resembled the bustling hub of its peak hours.

Jean-Luc sighed and idly swirled the glass with but a lone ice cube left in his hand. Shifts had changed, and the new bartender had yet to notice him sitting at the end of the counter with an empty glass.

Not that more drinks would help with the boredom. His friends were sleeping, but something kept Jean-Luc awake.

“Need anything?”

“You don’t happen to have anything to speed up time until a ship picks me up, do you?”

Jean-Luc glanced at the bartender. He smiled back slightly stiffly.

“Sorry, I’m only cleared to serve drinks. I might be able to find something strong enough to black you out for a few hours, but the management won’t be too happy if I do that.”

Jean-Luc huffed out a tiny laugh. God, it was boring. Well, he might as well order something.

“Give me another drink. Anything’s fine. Surprise me. Not the blackout kind, please. I doubt Starfleet will be too happy to collect passed-out fresh ensigns, either.”

The bartender grabbed a couple bottles and a box of sliced fruit. Jean-Luc almost interrupted him to ask for something less sweet, but held his tongue. He had asked to be surprised, so let the man do his job. He switched the topic.

“Not many customers at this hour. Yet you’re open around the clock.”

“That starbase of yours guarantees a steady stream of customers no matter the hour. Food replicators are a poor substitute for a barkeep willing to lend an ear.” The bartender looked at Jean-Luc with a questioning look.

“No, I’m not—I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all,” Jean-Luc explained as the bartender shoveled crushed ice into a glass and poured candy-colored liquid over it.

“Sounds exactly like you do need someone to pour your heart out to.”

Jean-Luc let out another small laugh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m fairly sure it’s just the jet lag and anticipation.”

“Good, then. Between the two of us, I’ve never been very good at that part of the job,” the bartender said and smiled. He finished off Jean-Luc’s drink with a pink fruit slice, then passed the glass to him.

“Not the human connection kind of person?”

The drink was much too sweet, just as Jean-Luc had expected.

“You could say so. I’m a Q, actually,” the bartender said.

Jean-Luc looked up in surprise. The name rang a bell.

“Q. That’s your name as well, then?”

Q looked back at Jean-Luc attentively.

“You’ve done your homework. An honor student, I see.”

“Not homework,” Jean-Luc said and smiled. “Personal interest. Your kind is fascinating, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Q flashed a curious smile.

“Hardly. Inefficient shapeshifters, lousy empaths barely worth the title. Some other mutations with equally useless skills. Nothing, really, to warrant much interest in us.”

Jean-Luc leaned in closer.

“Yet there have been more than just a few reported cases of your people roaming the galaxy, subjugating less advanced civilizations by tricking them into believing you are gods aided by those useless skills.”

Q’s eyes narrowed, and he considered Jean-Luc for a moment.

“Those incidents aren’t the first thing a bored cadet browsing the library would stumble upon.”

There was deep suspicion in Q’s voice, but no guardedness; only intrigue.

“Sometimes a lack of information is exactly what makes one curious.”

Q’s mouth curled into a tentative smile.

“You think there’s some kind of mystery here. Something we hide from the Federation, and you’re determined to uncover the secrets of the Q fresh out of the Academy.” Q put away the ingredients left on the counter. “I’m afraid the only secret I know is the recipe for our traditional mead.”

Q pulled a dark brown bottle from under the counter and poured Jean-Luc a small glass of fire-red, opaque liquid.

“It’s on the house.”

Never breaking eye contact, Jean-Luc downed the shot in one go. The taste was foul, and the real alcohol burned his throat on its way down. Much stronger than he’d anticipated, Jean-Luc couldn’t suppress the single cough his body produced in protest to the poison of a drink, but otherwise—

“Not bad,” Q smirked.

“So, what’s the secret? Tastes fairly normal.”

“Hmm? Oh, this? No, no.” Q waved the bottle in front of Jean-Luc. “This is just something we accidentally ordered a full box of. No sane customer would ever order it, and management wants us to focus on non-alcoholic offerings, anyway, so I’m tricking kinds of yours to help me get rid of it little by little. We don’t carry the mead, thankfully. That would be the blackout stuff.”

Jean-Luc had a fleeting thought that Q was exactly the sort of person he would either love or hate, depending on the circumstances, were they to get to know each other better.

To know each other better.

He examined Q. Fairly good-looking. His human form must have been modeled, what, ten, fifteen years older than Jean-Luc. Twenty? The creature underneath must have been much older based on everything Jean-Luc had read. Not that any of it mattered.

A stupid idea struck Jean-Luc.

Endless dom-jot and drinking and picking up easy targets frankly bored him. His friends didn’t seem to mind the change of pace, but as much as Jean-Luc tried to enjoy the idle leisure, it wasn’t his cup of tea.

“Any more questions, then?” Q asked and put away Jean-Luc’s empty shot glass.

Well, there it was: his challenge, his pursuit, his research project for the coming days.

“Are you willing to indulge me?”

The Q didn’t tend to form romantic relationships between each other, Jean-Luc recalled. Some sought sexual relations with other species, though, even if it was frowned upon in their culture by some.

Now, which category did Q fall into?

“I wouldn’t be much of a barkeep to refuse a customer, would I? Although I must say, it’s rather unusual for me to be the one expected to reveal my life story.”

Jean-Luc took another swig. The alien-yet-human body shifted, waiting for Jean-Luc to say something. It was a human body, with all the human parts, wasn’t it?

“What can I say.” How would that body feel on top of his? “To learn about you,” Jean-Luc said and locked eyes with Q, “is frankly provocative.”

“In that case, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Jean-Luc couldn’t read whatever went on behind Q’s eyes, only that he had acknowledged the game and was willing to play. Jean-Luc wondered if Q knew what the game was. He wondered if Q even cared.

He downed the rest of the sweet cocktail out of courtesy, then hopped off the barstool.

“I would love to stay and talk more, but I really think I should try to get some sleep now. I hope I’ll see you here the next time,” Jean-Luc said and flashed his most charming smile at Q. He turned away before he could see Q’s reaction, but—he could have sworn he saw Q fight off a shy smile before he walked away.

***

Jean-Luc spent the next day digging up whatever information he could find on Q’s species. There wasn’t much beyond what he already knew. The extent of their mind-reading abilities varied on an individual basis. Their native form seemed to be something most other known species were unable to perceive, so the Federation had only records on Qs who had assumed the shape of another species—a process which, apparently, could take a Q months, even years to complete. “Inefficient shapeshifters,” Jean-Luc remembered Q saying. He wondered how long it had taken him to forge his human form.

Another night of dom-jot and sitting around drinks at the bar. It was crowded, and Jean-Luc agreed to get Corey and Marta drinks while they looked for a free table.

“Johnny, was it?”

Jean-Luc turned his head. Q.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. What will it be?”

Q seemed happy to see him again. Jean-Luc glanced at his friends at the table in the farthest corner from the counter. They wouldn’t mind if…

“Two of whatever will keep those two happy enough not to question what’s keeping me,” Jean-Luc said and gave Q a meaningful look.

Q responded with a curious smile, then grabbed two of the biggest glasses on the shelf and poured them full of something bright golden.

“We don’t normally do table service, but for you, Johnny…”

Q disappeared for a moment to take the drinks to Corey and Marta. Jean-Luc wondered what else he could make Q do just by sitting there and smiling nicely.

“Just know I don’t usually let customers hit on me, either.”

Q had returned and read his thoughts, apparently. He poured another drink and gave it to Jean-Luc. Jean-Luc took a sip. Still not to his taste, exactly, but less of a miss than the previous one.

“Why’d you pick such a charming form, then?”

Q tried to act annoyed, but the smile reached his eyes and color flushed his cheeks. He tried to hide it by letting his gaze drop to the countertop, but Jean-Luc would have none of that.

Because Q was, to be frank, adorable.

Jean-Luc pushed aside the vague realization that his heart was beating much faster than normal and leaned over the countertop.

“When is your shift over?” He whispered.

Q looked up, suddenly alarmed. Jean-Luc could almost feel how those big, soft eyes tried to pry Jean-Luc open and read his mind.

“I want to sleep with you,” he confessed, hoping that spelling out his motive would snap Q out of his agitated state. He wanted Q, Jean-Luc realized. Really wanted him. His own heartbeat was getting hard to ignore now.

“Oh,” Q said, crimson spreading all across his face now, then planted his gaze firmly back onto the countertop.

“Q.” Jean-Luc let the syllable roll off his tongue softly, honey in his voice. Q gasped. Jean-Luc allowed him the air he needed.

Finally.

“Two more hours.”

Jean-Luc held his breath without noticing.

“I’ll be free in two more hours,” Q repeated and looked Jean-Luc dead in the eye. Serious. Intense. Don’t get nervous now.

“If you’re serious, wait for me at the employee entrance,” he said.

Jean-Luc forgot how to speak for a second—very unlike him—then smiled and emptied his drink.

“I am.”

“Oh, and I will have something better than that synthehol swill for you,” Q said with a wry smile that wrestled Jean-Luc’s traitor of a heart into an irregular beat. In his head, he cursed the heat on his cheeks and thanked the new customers who arrived just in time to distract Q before having the time to turn the tables on him. He took the chance to leave quietly.

“Two hours,” he muttered, and hesitantly dragged himself back to the company of his friends.

***

Remembering the urgency with which Q had said the words “if you’re serious”, Jean-Luc was at the staff door well before Q’s shift was to end. He checked his reflection on a steel door to fix his hair—again—then checked the time. Rinse and repeat.

It’s not like he was nervous. He just knew so little about Q culture.

And it was such an exciting opportunity.

And Q was so—

“You came.”

“Q.”

He hadn’t quite realized just how much taller Q was before now that he was standing next to him, not hunched over a counter. And he hadn’t expected his eyes to be so soft and have that same glimmer in the harsh, unflattering light of the staff corridor as he did under the warm, dim lights of the bar. And he hadn’t anticipated how nicely the red velvet of his work attire hugged the curves of his body.

He most certainly hadn’t foreseen the single red rose Q handed to Jean-Luc.

“I’m afraid someone’s twenty-five red roses just became twenty-four. I wouldn’t worry about it too much; I find ‘always on my mind’ a much sweeter sentiment than ‘all the happiness in the world’, anyway.”

Jean-Luc accepted the flower.

“So, what does one red rose signify?”

Q’s smile widened.

“Oh, what’s the point of my crime if I just told you outright? I’m risking getting fired over this.”

Jean-Luc didn’t bother asking why Q knew all this. No date had ever given him flowers before, and he found it incredibly sweet.

He had to remind himself that he was just passing time.

“You don’t mind walking, do you? My home is not far from here.”

Jean-Luc let him lead the way.

The place was simple, standard-looking—plain, even; still, there was something that immediately made it look like a home. The neatly folded clothes waiting on a chair, the dirty bowl left on the coffee table. A PADD buried under a tower of old magazines. Some frankly ugly yet clearly beloved decor items sprinkled in here and there. It was the kind of place you’d come visit a friend to and feel right at home.

Well, not unlike he did right now, even though they were hardly friends yet. Ever, probably. Sad reality of their encounter, Jean-Luc caught himself thinking.

Distant voices echoed in the hallway. The hum of the HVAC quieted as Jean-Luc stepped into the apartment. The sound of water caught his attention. Did Q have an aquarium somewhere?

Door closed. Body pressed against Jean-Luc’s back, warm. Hot. Soft. Lips on his neck, hungry. Desperate urge pushing against his behind, hard.

Q caught Jean-Luc’s hand just in time to stop the rose from slipping between his fingers.

“Careful. I want you to hold on to it,” Q sighed in his ear before those lips found their way back to his skin for another intense kiss that came to a sudden end. “Oh, I promised you a drink, didn’t I?”

Fingertips dragged across Jean-Luc’s body and threatened to slip away, so Jean-Luc grabbed Q’s wrist and pulled him back against him.

“I can do without.”

“It’s very good.”

“I want you now.”

Q’s eyes wandered.

“I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

Jean-Luc grabbed the back of Q’s head to reclaim his full attention.

“Are you nervous? You don’t need to be.” Jean-Luc pulled him close. Q’s pulse was fast against his chest.

“It’s been a while,” Q admitted with a tremble in his voice betraying his worry. “And it wasn’t the prettiest graduate in class the last time.” Q looked at Jean-Luc with dreamy eyes, the sort you saw before a catastrophic confession of love. But Jean-Luc could tell Q knew better than to complicate things. At least for now.

“You seem confident for someone who hasn’t seen the rest of my class,” Jean-Luc teased.

“Well, I’m a Q. Weren’t you the one accusing me of having some hidden powers?” Q teased back and kissed the fingers holding the rose. “Maybe I went back in time and checked.”

“Oh? I hope you saw nothing too embarrassing.”

“No, just an irresistible and smart and just the right amount of arrogant cadet,” Q said and fiddled with the clasps of Jean-Luc’s uniform.

“Can you see into my future, too?” Jean-Luc grinned.

“Of course,” Q said and looked up. “Let’s see… Oh!” He smiled and looked at Jean-Luc. “A handsome captain of the Federation flagship. How does that sound?”

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like you’re trying to flatter your way into my pants while also actively stalling getting me into your bed.”

That seemed to bring Q’s focus back to getting rid of Jean-Luc’s jacket. Q tossed the garment onto a chair, then grabbed Jean-Luc’s face with one hand and kissed him hard while pulling his tank top out of his pants to access the skin underneath. Jean-Luc moaned into Q’s mouth as the warm palm slid over his skin, fingers digging greedily into his flesh.

Holding the rose was getting cumbersome, but since it seemed to be important to Q—Jean-Luc spotted a vase of pale yellow flowers and reached to drop the single rose among them. Both hands free, he pulled off his top and tossed it onto the floor, then grabbed Q’s velvet-covered hips to pull him closer.

“Strip, now.”

Q gasped and fumbled for the clasp of his vest.

“See, you already sound like a captain.” He pulled off the vest and reached for the zipper behind his back. “You’ll get far.”

“Right now I need to get you out of your clothes,” Jean-Luc said and yanked the zipper down in a smooth motion. “Show me what’s under all that velvet.”

Q gave him another dreamy look before letting Jean-Luc peel the jumpsuit off him, revealing an attractive body and a bulging erection under his tight underwear. Jean-Luc’s lips curled into a hungry smile.

“Happy with what you see?” There was a hint of smugness tugging at Q’s mouth.

“God, yes,” Jean-Luc breathed and kicked off his boots, then got on his knees, pushed his forehead against Q’s lower abdomen and closed his eyes. Soft. Hot skin. Cool air. He breathed in. Q smelled nice. Human and familiar mixed with something Jean-Luc couldn’t place. He heard a sharp inhale as he slid his fingers under the waistband and pulled down, revealing the fully hard cock.

A big one at that.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Q said, nerves and excitement breaking his voice. “Do you know what happens when a shapeshifter thinks about someone like that?”

Jean-Luc’s breath hitched.

“You changed for me?”

“Do you like it?”

“God, Q, I want you in me.”

Q fell on his knees and pushed their foreheads together.

“I want to have you right here on the floor, then on the counter, then on every other flat surface I can find before carrying you into my bedroom, and that will only be the beginning.” Q’s hands traveled down Jean-Luc’s body, and Jean-Luc had trouble maintaining his dignity and not just throwing himself on Q.

“Please,” he managed, failing miserably in his efforts to appear in control. He wasn’t used to this level of worship, this devotion.

“But I won’t,” Q said and kissed his cheekbone. “You deserve better than this filthy floor.”

“Bedroom it is, then,” Jean-Luc breathed, unable to take Q’s restraint for much longer. “Now, Q, or it will be the floor.”

“You know, you’ll drive your future crew out of their minds with that voice of yours,” Q said and swept Jean-Luc back up on his feet, then pushed him against the wall for another rough, sloppy kiss before lifting him up. Jean-Luc grabbed Q’s neck and let him carry him into the bedroom and pin him against the soft mattress. The sheets were clean and smooth, and Jean-Luc was surrounded by Q’s intoxicating smell in every direction.

“Stop wasting time,” he pleaded.

“You call this wasting time?” Q said and pushed his lips on Jean-Luc’s neck, chest against his. Jean-Luc failed to fight the moan. “I don’t think you mean that, darling.” Another kiss fell on his skin, fingers gently pushing up his jaw to fully expose his throat. “You’re desperate. Well, so am I,” Q said and moved down to finally pull off Jean-Luc’s pants, groaning in a satisfied manner upon the sight of Jean-Luc’s cock bouncing up.

Jean-Luc looked at Q’s adoring face as he properly examined Jean-Luc’s body with his eyes.

“One night isn’t enough,” Q sighed. “I’ll keep you here until I’ve done everything there is to do, and then do it all over again.”

The way his voice bordered on grief almost prodded Jean-Luc to say something stupid he didn’t really mean, but before he could open his mouth, Q’s lips were covering it again. He gasped into Q’s mouth as he felt their cocks touch, then being rubbed together by a warm, oiled hand between their bodies. For someone who supposedly hadn’t done this in a while, Q sure knew exactly where and when to touch, reading and responding to Jean-Luc’s gasps and thrusts eerily accurately, taking him so close to the edge it took all of Jean-Luc’s restraint to keep from going over.

“Q—”

“Say it again. My name. Like that.”

“Q, I’m—At this rate I’m—”

“I want you to, Johnny.”

“Oh, God, Q—”

Jean-Luc ground his hips against Q’s cock with abandon, breathing becoming erratic, that final heat before release building up in his loins. In a hoarse cry he came. The ringing in his ears subsided just in time for him to realize Q was now panting hard in his ear, moaning and gasping and making the loveliest noises of passion Jean-Luc had ever witnessed, then following Jean-Luc and coming against his body.

“Oh, oh, I— Oh God, Johnny,” he chanted and grabbed Jean-Luc’s neck with a semen-and-lube-stained hand to pull him into a rough kiss. The smell of their cum made Jean-Luc dizzy, and had blood rushing back into his cock. Slowly but surely, he regained his erection as Q’s tongue circled in his mouth.

“That was just the foreplay,” Q whispered, and Jean-Luc realized Q had somehow remained fully hard this entire time.

Q’s finger circled the rim of Jean-Luc’s entrance, not quite slipping in, drawing gasps of surprise and frustration from Jean-Luc as his free hand fondled his balls and stroked his cock until it was fully hard again.

“Tell me to do it with that captain’s voice of yours.”

Jean-Luc raised his hips despite himself and tried to lean into Q’s finger.

“Fuck me, Q, now,” he panted, trying to keep his voice low and commanding.

“Ohh,” Q moaned at the impact of his voice and placed his cockhead against the slick hole and holding it there until both of them were holding their breath in anticipation.

He pushed in. God, he was big.

Q slowed down once he noticed Jean-Luc clasping the sheets with his knuckles white.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he said with a hint of panic in his voice.

“It’s all right,” Jean-Luc got out. “I—” he wasn’t sure what to say. “You’re bigger than anyone I—”

Relief followed by smugness flashed on Q’s face before his expression melted back into tender passion.

“Keep going, Q,” Jean-Luc said and felt Q’s fingers twitch upon Jean-Luc calling his name. He pushed again, and Jean-Luc felt his body relax. The thought of Q thinking about him alone in his apartment and making his cock big enough to barely fit Jean-Luc—

“You don’t need to be so damn careful, Q,” Jean-Luc growled when Q slowed down and hesitated before pushing all the way in. Q whimpered and pushed hard into Jean-Luc, then fell against his chest and started moving back and forth faster and faster. Jean-Luc had never felt so thoroughly consumed before—Q was deeper than anyone before him while at the same time wrapped around him from every side—the scent of Q in the sheets under him, Q’s chest covering his own, arms framing his sides, hands burying his face, lips claiming his mouth.

Jean-Luc’s thoughts were reduced to a collection of indistinct snapshots as another orgasm started building up. How Q’s muscles felt under his palms. How Q’s sweat tasted when his neck brushed against Jean-Luc’s open mouth. How the rhythm of Q’s rocking hips aligned with the flashes of a beacon outside. Jean-Luc had no willpower to prolong it, just let the wave of pleasure wash over him while Q held him tight and rammed into him uninterrupted. Jean-Luc came to his senses enough to take in how beautifully the approaching orgasm twisted Q’s face, how his voice became impossibly raw and serene as his pace picked up, then got lost and finally slowly came to a halt as he came deep inside of Jean-Luc.

When Jean-Luc finally tried to move under him, the arms around him immediately grabbed him and stopped him from moving.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jean-Luc murmured. Q said nothing, just loosened his grip and let Jean-Luc shift his body into a more comfortable position. Hesitantly, Q rolled off of him and settled by his side on the bed.

“How much longer till they take you from me?”

Q had closed his eyes. Jean-Luc pretended he didn’t hear the loneliness in his voice.

The beacon kept flashing, and Jean-Luc couldn’t stop thinking of Q’s hips against his own.

“I still have at least tomorrow night free,” he said uncertainly. Now that he had calmed down, well… He didn’t exactly not want to see Q again. Maybe it was okay. He wished the beacon would go out and stop messing with his thoughts.

“A ship needs a bartender,” Q said, and Jean-Luc’s heart sank. “Perhaps, once you’re a captain, you could come find me and…” Q’s voice disappeared, and Jean-Luc pulled him into an embrace.

“I will,” he lied.

***

Daylight poured in from the window, painfully bright and hot. Q had forgotten to pull down the blinds last night. Understandable, given the circumstances, he thought, but lamented nevertheless being awake so early on a free morning.

He lazily made the bed and recycled his uniform from last night for a new one.

Lacking an appetite, he got himself a coffee and a small cookie for breakfast. He checked the flowers on his way to the kitchen table. The pale yellow flowers were still doing fine, but Q felt he needed a change and replaced them with a colorful mixed bouquet.

He felt restless for the entire day. He cursed having another evening shift. Now, more than ever, he needed the distraction.

The day went by slowly until he finally decided he could leave for work. No one would mind his being there a bit early, so he changed and left.

There was something off when he reached the establishment. He saw a crowd outside the bar. Maybe there was an event Q had forgotten about.

At the staff door, a coworker stopped him.

“Someone got stabbed. We’re free for the night.”

“Oh,” Q said indifferently. “Couldn’t say I’m surprised. That same band of Nausicaans again?”

The bar looked wrong. The lights were bright, and the sounds were off. It irritated him, more than anything. And this messed with his schedule, too.

His coworker nodded and sighed in frustration.

“They should have been thrown out ages ago. It’s one thing when they beat each other up, but it was a Starfleet officer this time.”

An uneasy feeling grabbed Q by the throat.

“Oh?”

A nasty screech. Someone was pushing aside heavy furniture at the bar.

“Some fresh graduates were killing time at the bar. One of them got into a fight over a game of Dom-jot, and his friend rushed to help and took a dagger to the chest. Looked right nasty, too. The Nausicaan went straight for the heart.”

Q’s ears rang. He was no longer aware what was happening around him.

But surely it wasn’t him.

“What happened to the friend who got hurt?”

“How should I know? They took him away. Looked pretty dead to me when he hit the floor, but I’m no doctor.”

Q heard his own voice, soft and calm and detached, speaking somewhere far away.

“Where’s the other one now?” He glanced at the open door and scanned the crime scene, devoid of customers, until he noticed an officer talking to two people in Starfleet uniforms.

Johnny’s friends. The two he had seen him with.

No Johnny.

Then he saw the bloodstain.

“Their friend? Was he the victim? A young man, brown hair, medium height, white collar, um…” someone spoke in Q’s voice again.

“Sounds like him, sure.”

“Oh.”

Q’s ears rang. Someone else was in control of his body.

“I won’t be needed here, will I?”

“They have special people cleaning up crime scenes. They told us to go home. I’m just here to tell the others.”

“Ah, thank you. Well, see you tomorrow, then.”

“Good night, Q.”

Q got around the corner before he fell on the ground.

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