Deification

22 February 2026

2391 words

Rated E for sexual content

Comment or leave kudos at AO3

“Are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
“Did I die?”
“Yes.”
“Is this—”
“You know, you can ask me more open questions. The trial is over, Jean-Luc. For you, anyway.”

—

In afterlife, Jean-Luc Picard is given the chance to become what he wants to be, and Q is there to help him.

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Darkness. Complete darkness.

Picard had no sense of position, no recollection of his immediate past, and he wasn’t sure if he lacked his vision and hearing, or if there simply was nothing to observe.

He felt as though he had been placed in a void. Trying to move his body, it was anyone’s guess whether anything happened. There was no feedback to make sure.

Since swinging his body around did nothing, he tried to focus on his memory for the time being. Jean-Luc Picard. Captain of the USS Enterprise. Stardate… What was it again? The bigger the number grew, the hazier his memory became, until it got lost altogether.

Something alerted him. Warmth. Radiating against his body. Body that, he now realized, was vertical. The faint scent of his own body, something else too, the taste in his mouth, the warmth around him, the sense of being supported by a flat surface. There wasn’t much to sense here, but he felt like he was at least able to sense something now.

His sight started to return, too, blurred and dark at first, then slowly getting more focused. A familiar white surrounded him in every direction—as far as he could tell, anyway; he had a bit of tunnel vision still. He was fairly certain, though, that someone was hovering above him on all fours.

“Q?”

“Yes.”

The familiar voice would have been calming if Picard hadn’t found himself oddly relaxed already. He tried to force his eyes to focus on the blob of uniform color in front of him.

“Are you naked?”

“Depends on your definition. I am not wearing clothes, but I am not in human form either. If I appear to be nude,” Q said, a smirk apparent in his voice, “that’s entirely on your subconscious. I am flattered if that’s the form you would pick out for me after all these years. Don’t worry, you weren’t the only one who took a good look that day.”

Picard’s eyes were now focused enough to see his face sharply and, yes, the rest of his naked body, too.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Q said, and something liquid started pouring from his eyes into Picard’s—just a refraction of light at first, then translucent, iridescent like moonstone.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

“Did I die?”

“Yes.”

“Is this—”

“You know, you can ask me more open questions. The trial is over, Jean-Luc. For you, anyway.”

Picard opened his mouth, then closed it and exhaled in resignation. The liquid was now an impossibly wide spectrum of colors Picard could see but not name.

“What is happening?” Picard finally settled on asking. He was aware of his field of vision growing still. He probably should have been more disconcerted by the fact he could see under his own back against the ground, but such emotions seemed distant, dampened somehow.

“Too open. Fine, let’s see. I’m deifying you. Does that answer your question?”

“Ah. Yes, yes it does, in fact.”

It should have horrified and angried him, but Picard supposed those emotions were also suppressed.

“Why am I not terrified?” The liquid endlessly poured into his eyes, and he could see it, but at the same time it didn’t obstruct his vision. It felt like a dream. Maybe it was.

“Local anaesthesia of sorts. I can’t perform a surgery on a patient who is screaming in agony and shock, now can I?”

Now that his eyesight was back, Picard regarded his surroundings. Easy with a 360-degree field of vision. While Q was very much naked, in the human form Picard had grown familiar, no, fond of; Picard himself wore his captain’s uniform.

“Certainly says some interesting things about you, mon capitaine,” Q said and raised an eyebrow. The last drops of liquid fell out of his eyes, and he tilted his head up slightly. “Looks like I already have some access to your consciousness. I can see how you have laid out this scene now. Should go both ways, if you’d like to take a look,” Q said and tapped on his temple.

“Is that it? Am I…” Picard stopped to think. Gods certainly didn’t exist. “Deify, you said. What am I? A Q?”

“You are nothing. I cannot make you into anything. You’re free to choose, however, to become anything. Q included.”

“And how do I do that?”

Q shrugged. “I’m not directing this vision. I share it now, but you are very much in control.”

Picard closed his eyes. Of course, it didn’t affect his ability to see, but made it easier to process the fact that he knew exactly what he wanted to become and, worse, how to become it.

“Naughty,” Q whispered. Picard knew it was supposed to be playful, but it didn’t come across that way.

“You said I could look?”

“Of course,” Q said and closed his eyes. Or did Picard imagine him closing his eyes?

“Both,” Q replied. “Do you now understand how limited a mortal mind is?”

Picard ignored the jab and pushed his consciousness inside Q, who gasped loudly at the sensation, and Picard realized the reaction was genuine, of Q’s own making; Picard had just seen it in his native tongue.

He waved away his realization—he could ponder it later—Q, in whatever language he was interpreting Picard’s intentions, liked what Picard knew had to be done.

“Of course I do,” Q said, again with impatience and lust seeping into his voice. “Yes, that happens. My deepest secrets are an open book to you now, so you would pick it up in my voice. I can’t lie to you here.”

“How do you see me?” Picard asked.

“As a human. But you wouldn’t know how a human looks to me. Language barrier, you see.”

Q was being patient with him, but he couldn’t hide how anxious he was…

“Yes, well, what other choice do I have but to wait until you’re ready?”

…and how much he wanted it.

“Need I remind you this was your idea? You would know you want it too if you didn’t have part of your consciousness disconnected.”

“The anaesthesia?”

Q scoffed. “It hasn’t worn off yet, no, but this one’s on you. You spent your entire mortal life erecting your silly little walls. Don’t expect them to come down in an instant.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. That I need to…,” Picard started, and remembered he didn’t need to explain the rest of it out loud to Q.

“Good, you’re getting there. And no, it doesn’t really make sense, does it, but how am I supposed to explain your own subconscious to you? Don’t think about it too hard, this is all just an allegory, so to speak.”

“I saw you… cry something into me earlier. Colors I don’t recognize. Wouldn’t it—”

“Make more sense for me to fuck something—the essence of being a Q, since that’s what you seem to have chosen—into you? Sorry, but I don’t really see the logic either. It’s on you,” Q said dramatically and gave Picard an intense stare.

“I… oh.” A dull pain, no, sensation, overtook him. His full range of emotion was returning to him.

“Congratulations, you just came off the anaesthesia. It means you’re ready to accept what is happening.”

“Ready to…” Picard paused. What was the right word to use in this case?

“’Make love’? Aren’t you the romantic, I was expecting you to opt for a more clinical term,” Q said and smirked at him. Picard reached with his mind to feel the emotion behind it and touched something soft. But when the soft thing tried to reach back at him, there was a wall to stop it.

I need to demolish that one first thing after this, Picard thought.

“Mm,” Q said and looked away. Picard laughed at Q’s feeling translating to a soft, pink blush on Q’s cheeks in Picard’s mother tongue.

“I’m… ready, Q,” he tried to convince Q. Or himself.

“You aren’t.”

“Why not?”

Q looked at him like he was an idiot.

“You’re fully clothed.”

“Oh.”

“Take your time,” Q said and held back a word of endearment in vain.

“I heard that,” Picard smiled and felt a couple bricks being knocked down from the wall keeping out the softness he felt within Q.

“We don’t need to do it here, you know. You control the surroundings, too,” Q said dreamily. Behind the words was a gentle suggestion, too.

“Who’s the romantic now?” Picard smiled and willed away the bright white around them, peeling it off to reveal a wood-paneled room with a large bed and a lit fireplace filling the room with soft, warm light.

“Very cozy,” Q said and relaxed next to Picard on the bed.

Picard wondered how Q saw it, but got no answer.

“May I?” Q said instead and reached for Picard’s face. As he did, he carefully took another loose brick from the wall. A whole bunch followed it and came crashing down, mirrored by a sharp gasp from Picard’s mouth as the fingers traveled along his cheekbone and jaw. “Seems to be working,” Q purred.

Picard closed his eyes again, finding it easier this time to block out the visual component of his grown awareness. He felt a warm breath against his mouth, fingertips caressing his cheeks. He opened his eyes again to find Q watching him with open adoration.

“I already said. I can’t lie here, nor can I hide anything.”

“I think I can take this off now,” Picard said and had his uniform disappear along with some large chunks of his inner wall. He looked Q in the eye and reached to touch the soft blob of emotion again. As soft as ever, something inside it was stirring and becoming hot to touch. Q’s face mirrored the feeling. He reached inside Picard’s consciousness and easily stepped over what was left of the wall.

“We’ll deal with the rest of them in time. I’ll help you,” Q said and inched closer to Picard in the bed. “I’m touched, sincerely, that you chose to do this with me.” Without breaking eye contact, he took Picard’s hand in his and tilted his head to kiss it. “Especially using this… presentation.”

“Who else?” Picard guided Q gently on his back.

“You don’t need anyone to become anything anymore. I only stayed after that first phase because you wanted me to. You could have done this alone.”

“I want you here,” Picard admitted to himself what Q already knew. “Does—” it was an awkward question “—human sex… mean you anything?”

Q smiled. “It will translate over. So yes, it does, a great deal. And I believe it will mean something very similar to me as it does to you. Oh! I believe you just sensed it, didn’t—”

A kiss from Picard cut off the rest of the audible part of his sentence and turned it into a small moan instead. Arousal felt familiar to Picard, the same as it had always been before. That’s why I suggested a change in scenery. Q was thinking in words, and Picard didn’t exactly hear them in his mind, but close enough.

It’ll be more seamless, trust me, but for now a bit of familiarity will help with your ability to find the right vocabulary, to stick to the metaphor we’ve been using.

Less talk, Q. That was the point of kissing you.

Q agreed, and Picard sensed him pull his presence fully into the kiss.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Q whispered into his open mouth once they broke free.

Picard closed his eyes to calm his nerves and felt Q’s presence soothing him. He opened his eyes and stroked himself before positioning himself behind Q and taking his cock to Q’s entrance. He looked at Q, wondering wordlessly if it really was all right to just—

It is. We’re not actual flesh and blood, remember.

“You said you were touched I would do this with you. I hope you understand the feeling is mutual,” Picard said, his tip resting against Q, aching to plunge into him. “You said human sex, no, this right here I should say, means something to you.” Q was comfortably within the perimeter of that wall they had torn down together. The soft feeling inside Q was spinning rapidly around its core, and Picard wrapped it inside his own consciousness where a similar emotion was gradually taking form. His own soft emotion was bubbling in sync with his joy.

“Didn’t you just tell me to talk less?” Q smiled.

They both laughed, a laughter turning into gasps as Picard finally pushed, then pulled, then pushed again deeper and deeper until they fell into a rhythm.

Skin felt like such a brittle barrier between their essences. As if they were a single thrust too hard away from fusing completely and irreversibly.

“I don’t mind,” Q lilted under him, rapt and beautiful. So, Picard let it happen, pumped harder into Q, until his entire being tightened, then released into what Picard vaguely recognized as a mutual orgasm that shattered what little was left to keep them apart.

And then he was lost again.

The darkness was back, but this time, all his feelings of anxiety and terror were acutely present.

“Q!” Picard roared out in a broken voice. He felt around him, trying hard to remember how having arms and hands had felt.

“I’m here,” a disembodied voice said and caught Picard in his arms, and suddenly Picard felt he had a body again. Streaks of light appeared in the darkness and illuminated the figure holding him.

“You’re all right. Just keep still for a while longer,” Q comforted him.

The streaks of light kept falling around them like rain. On them, too, licking their skins and sticking to their bodies for a second before sliding off into the endless void.

The rain ended, and Picard’s vision was once again back to relatively normal.

“Good,” Q said gently as Picard looked around. The room was still there, but different. Where there used to be a softly crackling fire was now the universe, everything, sparkling and beckoning. The wood paneling was darker, and a canopy had been added to the bed.

“Where are we?” Picard asked, and the arms cradling him drew him in closer.

“Home, Jean-Luc.”

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