TNG: Picard/Crusher, Picard/Q; Rated R; Bad Character Title Challenge
"That was amazing." Beverly got out of bed and started putting her clothes back on.
"Amazing," Picard echoed. He laid across his bed, spent from the vigorous sex play he and Beverly had just enjoyed. No matter how times he was with her, she always found ways to surprise him. The latest had been a dissolving negligee set she'd ordered from a shop on Risa. You couldn't wear it more than once, but it was well worth it, at least in his opinion.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, rolling over onto back and propping more pillows behind his head. He watched as she twisted her hair into a makeshift bun and fastened it with a couple of pins.
"I've got to finish the annual crew medical evaluations. I might be late."
He smiled. "Wake me up when you come in."
She smiled back and kissed him goodbye. "You can count on it."
No sooner had the door closed behind her when Picard had another visitor.
"I see I'm just in time."
"In time for what?" Picard asked lazily.
"In time to join you in a shower." Q sniffed. "To wash her scent off you."
"Oh don't be jealous," he placated, pulling Q down beside him. The other man was dressed in nothing, which was just the way Picard liked him. "In the chess game of life," he began in an imperious and deep voice that clashed with the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, "Beverly is my Queen, and I have her fully in check."
"And what am I?" Q asked with a slight pout.
"You," Picard said, wrapping his arms around the other man and planting kisses along his jawline, "are my mate."