A Dream before Dying: Epilogue

Summary: Picard and Data, trapped in the Enterprise runabout while a storm rages outside, find a mutually-satisfying way to pass the time... This is an explicit M-rated slash story for Data/Picard, so please don't read on if you're offended by that sort of thing.

Disclaimers: I have made no money from writing this story. I do not own anything connected with any of the Star Trek franchises, which all seem to belong to a complex combination of CBS, Viacom and Paramount. Neither do I own either Commander Data or Brent Spiner – if I did, you think I'd be wasting my time typing???

A/N: This is the sequel to the T-rated story 'A Dream before Dying', which tells how Data and Picard came to be in the runabout – indeed, as this is a post-Nemesis story, how they came to be back together again. This story will make more sense if you read that one first, as there are numerous references to previous events, and several loose ends from those events to satisfactorily tie up.

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Chapter 1 of 2

In the silence that followed his words, Picard dared not meet his companion's eyes. He was suddenly shy, suddenly humble in the presence of someone so uniquely beautiful. Continuing to caress the hand he held, he could hardly breathe for the thick, insistent thumping of his heart.

He had no fear that Data would reject him: ironically, after so many days of anguish, such concerns now seemed little less than foolish. As he turned the pale hand in his own, it folded and moulded itself to his desire, offering finger, knuckle, and palm to his worshipping lips. If his kisses had left visible imprints, Data's hand would have completely disappeared. Finally, he became still, cradling the hand in his own, marvelling at the contrast of cream and pink flesh, the conjunction of delicate and workaday fingers. The world stood still and held its breath.

After a moment Data stood, still holding Picard's hand, and gently pulling his Captain up as he did so. Picard had no idea what to expect, and he was shaking with such fierce anticipation and dread that he could hardly stand. His legs felt like jelly; his insides had turned to water. He licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry.

Data's eyes went to the movement. Slowly – silkily – he took the small step that separated him from his Captain. Their faces were so close that they almost touched: Picard could feel Data's heat across the half inch between their bodies as they stood, poised on the edge of something irreversibly wonderful. Then Data's arms were around him, strong and sweet and powerful, and Picard replied in kind, holding the other man and soaking in the living warmth beneath the soft clothing. Instinctively, he pressed his hands up beneath Data's shirt, caressing the flesh and moving his hands across Data's back, feeling the artificial bones and sinews within the manufactured skin, taking joy in the beauty of every inch, and trying all the while to pull him ever closer. He rested his head on Data's shoulder and vowed never to let him go: within the cage of the android's enveloping arms, he felt safe and secure as he had never done before.

As their bodies clung to each other, he felt the firm, decisive movement of Data's response, and knew that it was answered by his own: automatically, their hips began to grind together, gently and insistently, as they opened the doors to desires too long shut out and revelled in the glorious excitement of brutal, erotic contact. Picard's stomach was bursting with exploding stars, and the need to grasp Data's growing hardness was almost overwhelming. He wanted to feel the long, satin shaft slipping through his fingers and, reaching further down, cradle the soft balls hanging heavy beneath, cupping them in his palm and sliding one across the other until Data ignited in helpless ecstasy. The urge was too strong to be fought, and he felt his hand drop down the other's shoulder.

Then Data moved, and he felt the conscious golden lips on his own for the first time. They were soft, demanding lips, parting as they parted his own, moving deeper into him with each second, eating him, sucking him up whole, as Data's tongue explored his mouth with its slick, sensuous wetness and the android's arms pulled him even closer, until there was nothing between them, not even thought itself. He opened completely, urging Data to probe further, his own tongue searching out the soft, promising moisture, urgent stabs of lust firing up through his body from his growing hardness, now squeezed between them in a glorious, writhing trap of moving bodies. He wanted it all – oh God, he wanted it all! He wanted to be kissed into oblivion, to lose himself in Data's limitless mouth, and he wanted to feel Data's hand around him, swollen with need and fire, sliding along his length again and again as he brought him to his climax, filling up his hand, his body, the room, the world…

His own hand came back up to Data's shoulders, now more urgent than before, pulling the pale cream body to his, exploring the beautiful back beneath the shirt, slipping subtly below the loose waistband to cover the smooth, pulsing buttocks, rock hard with tension and want. He heard Data moan within the kiss, and gripped him tighter, grinding their erections together until both were solid, full and huge with desire. He lost the ability for rational thought. Pulling away from his almost-lover, breathless and gasping with lust, he raked his eyes over Data's face – the half lidded eyes, the slightly open mouth, the sensitive, swollen tongue – and fell into a second kiss, aggressive, searching, violent in its desperate and unfulfilled need. He drank Data dry, bruising his lips with unstoppable, loving cruelty, vicious in his want, plunging into the open mouth and feeling Data's answering strength as his own mouth was probed without mercy, raked through by the android's supple, powerful tongue. He gripped the back of Data's neck, feeling the soft silver hair beneath his hands, running his fingers through it and grasping it in urgent, furious handfuls, eating Data whole, ravishing his mouth until he had neither breath nor sense left to carry on.

Panting, he broke the contact and, hardly knowing what he did, slipped his hands again into the waistband of Data's pants, dragging them to the floor as he himself sank to his knees. He was drunk with the lust of it all, wild and giddy and greedy with wanting and delight. As the clothing fell away, Data's erection sprang up, thick and solid and already wet with desire, and Picard took him deep into his mouth, feeling the tender head caress the back of his throat like silk, closing his swollen lips around it like a womb. Grasping Data's buttocks with one hand, he pulled him in, almost swallowing the engorged shaft as it trembled and throbbed and thrust into the warm, wet darkness of his open mouth.

Closing his eyes, he lost himself completely in the slipping of his mouth over Data's moist, compliant hardness, teasing its sensitive tip with his tongue, lapping at the raised, throbbing vein that stood out along its length like sinewy rope. He alternately sucked and licked, and felt Data's trembling hands grasping him, holding him there, worshipping at the altar of untamed, unfettered sex. With his free hand, he reached up to Data's balls, flexing with desire as the orgasm began to build within them, and as he touched and rubbed them against each other within the rough, ropey sac, Data mewled with pleasure. They leapt away in a spasm of desire but he caught at them again, rolling them within his palm with just enough force to make Data moan, softly, insistently, louder and louder as the skin began to tighten and prepare for the explosion to come.

He worked the thick, solid shaft harder now, urgently driving it into his mouth and dragging it out, frantically pushing his face into the warm, damp crotch as Data began to thrust, his limbs braced, his muscles taught and strong and unbelievably beautiful as he spread his legs. Caressing those beautiful buttocks, Picard began to suck harder, so hard that he knew it must hurt: but he was familiar with that exquisite pain and knew that, once experienced, no man could ever get enough of it. Data pushed harder, more violently, filling up Picard's mouth and throat with the first salty, tangy liquid; Picard squeezed his balls once more, feeling them convulse into his body, and he knew he was almost there. Moving his fingers across Data's slender back, he caressed the top of the crease between his buttocks, then began to slide his long middle finger down, pressing it in towards Data's body, diving deeper towards the deep, slick mystery of that hidden darkness, and Data reacted instantly, his legs knotting rigid as he leapt further into Picard's mouth, pulsing out gloriously in great gushes that almost choked him with their force and sweetness. Swallowing desperately, holding onto the enormous, plunging cock, he sank his face into Data's moist body, sucking up his android juices, keeping him steady and solid inside his mouth until Data at last ceased to shudder uncontrollably, and merely stood, trembling, holding onto Picard's shoulders and making small crying noises as he came down from the heights of unbelievable, throbbing ecstasy.

"Jean – Jean…"

Picard felt the balls drop gently back into his hand, and reached out a finger to stroke the smooth, sensitive skin behind them. Data shuddered one last time, and again Picard tasted that glorious sweetness.

Slowly, slowly, he drew back from the still engorged shaft, quivering with after-lust, and began to lick along its length, lapping up the last of the thick fluid that had spilled from it in Data's frenzy. He rubbed its heaviness across his face, wanting to be marked with the musky scent of it, wanting it to permeate him so everyone would know to whom he belonged. He cradled it in his hands, marvelling at the thickness and power of it, glowing in the aftertaste, as piercing and fiery as anything he had ever known. Breathing deeply, he came to himself again, becoming aware of his own huge erection, painfully stiff and urgent as it pressed, trapped, against his clothing, making a tent of his pants front and desperately trying to burst out of its soft, confining cage. His balls ached as they cried out to release their hot, demanding load, almost exploding with unslaked lust. His stomach wrenched, muscles spasming as never before and, wild for release, he instinctively reached down to free the massive, throbbing cock.

One touch was all it took, he was so close. One slight stroke of his hand and he fired uncontrollably, his whole body arching as he emptied himself again and again, his stomach clenching and exploding with fiery, irresistible lust, and violent shudders convulsing every nerve as huge uncontrollable spurts filled the confines of his clothing, so loaded with liquid that it shone palely with the weight of it, hanging heavy around his soaked, trembling thighs. Again and yet again he shot, six, seven times, as though his whole body were emptying itself in frantic ecstasy to complete exhaustion. Yelling in his orgasm with utter abandon, the whole world erupted around him, with him, within him, turning him inside out as he gasped for air, grasping Data's wrists to hold himself upright, feeling the android's strength as it keeping him from falling, dizzy and half-senseless with astonishment and breathlessness and shock.

Slowly, the madness subsided, although the saturated cloth rubbing against him still sent shivers through his stomach as he moved. Slowly, his breathing returned to something like normal, and he was able to open his eyes and think something approaching coherent thoughts. Crazily, punch-drunk, he staggered to his feet, still clinging to his companion as if to the rock of life itself. "Data!" he gasped, scarcely able to articulate, let alone string three words together. "Data – oh God, Data…"

Once more, those strong, perfect arms came around him, caging him in their gentle, vice-like grip. He felt his head cradled like a child's. "It is all right, Jean-Luc. It is all right."

He tried to shake his head, his voice muffled against the android's shoulder. "No, it's not – I'm sorry – God, Data, so sorry…"

Data's arms loosened, and he held Picard away from him so that they were able to stare into each other's eyes. "Sorry?" He shook his own head, an expression of gentle disbelief on his beautiful, flushed face. "For what?"

"For – " Picard's hand waved at his ruined pants. He had no other words.

In reply, Data stooped, scooping up his Captain and holding him in his arms like a beloved child. He buried his head deep in the fresh, sucking wetness, and when he lifted it again, he was smiling: that small, beatific smile that was so peculiarly his own. "That?" he said, pulling Picard in to kiss him again. "That?" he whispered, the smile spreading to his voice. "That, Jean-Luc?" Picard saw tears stand out in his lover's eyes, and knew them to be tears of joy.

He felt crazy, dizzy – drunk like a teenager after too many bottles of wine. He hadn't felt this way since he'd taken the tourist cascade down old Victoria Falls in a reinforced glass bubble: technically perfectly safe, but not for the delicate of constitution. He wanted to shout with pure, crystal-like elation. Data's arms around him, holding him just a little too tightly, were all he wanted from life at that moment and, when the android stepped out of his crumpled pants, crossed the room, and placed him on the bed, he mourned the loss of contact. He reached out to caress the pale, beautiful face.

"Data…"

"Jean?"

Picard smiled. "Why do you call me that?"

Data paused, and Picard knew that, for a nanosecond, all his processors had been turned over to answering the question. He loved the total concentration that Data could evince: it was innocent in an uninnocent world. "I do not know, Sir. I did not – I have not used it before."

Picard recognised the hesitation, and gently stroked the face that hovered above his own. "Then it's all mine," he whispered. "Thank you." He wished he too had a unique name for this unique man. Perhaps it would come in time.

In lieu of a verbal caress, he reached out to the fastenings that held Data's silk shirt. They were easy to undo, and the soft, slippery material shrugged away from the golden shoulders like an offering to a god. Data wasn't as broad as his Captain, but his shoulders were strong, lithe and – if human – would have rippled gently with understated muscles. Picard gazed at his chest, mesmerised: covered in fine, pale hair, it invited his tired head and heart to lay themselves down upon it and rest.

Then he noticed something else. "Data? What's this?" His finger traced a fine, raised line running diagonally from the android's left shoulder to his right hip, slightly paler than the pale yellow skin that surrounded it, almost like a scar. "Data? Has – someone hurt you?" Distress flooded through him.

There was a long pause. When Data replied, his voice held the delicacy of something little talked of. "The Borg Queen – when she gave me flesh…"

"Oh my God."

Data glanced at him, curious. "It happened here as well?"

Picard nodded. Too well he remembered the change she had wrought in Data's skin; too well he remembered the love and fear that had prompted his own almost-sacrifice; and too well he remembered the new, human flesh being torn from the android's body as he destroyed the woman who had so tormented and fascinated them both. But surely only Data's face and arm had been affected? "She did that?" Data nodded. Picard's distress became more acute. "I didn't know. You – he – never told me. I – didn't know."

Data took his hand. "Geordi would have repaired the wound, as he repaired the others, but my Captain – wished it to remain." He swallowed, a touchingly human gesture. "He felt it was a mark of manhood. That it gave me character."

Picard was appalled. That he – his counterpart – could even have thought… It was almost unimaginable. It was ghoulish, exploitative, controlling – everything that he himself was not. He grimaced, and spoke very carefully. "If you wish to remove it, you should do so. Your body belongs to you, Data, and to no-one else. Never forget that." What kind of man had this other Picard been? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Thank you, Captain," Data whispered. "I will speak to Geordi upon our return."

Picard blinked back angry tears, and again stroked the smooth mark, such an avoidable reminder of such a terrible experience. He reached over and kissed the damaged skin where it stood proud, trying to soothe with love what had been created so long ago by hate, and perpetuated by – by God knew what twisted desire. But, whatever its history, it was part of the man he loved, and therefore beautiful. So he laid his head on the delicate, wounded flesh, and let it rest there, snuggling into the gentle warmth. He felt Data sigh, and was incongruously curious. "How do you do that, when you don't breathe?"

"Just because I do not breathe, sir, does not mean I cannot."

"Hmm." He closed his eyes. "You are very comfortable, Commander."

There was another pause, and Picard thought Data must have drifted into an android reverie when he spoke again, this time very softly, almost as if he did not intend Picard to hear. "And you are very different, my Jean."

Picard raised his lazy head, and focussed on his supine companion. "What?"

"Oh – nothing, sir."

Now the Captain's interest was really piqued. "Different from what, Data? From whom?"

"From – from the other Captain Picard, sir."

I should hope so, Picard thought. "Ah. You know, it's generally considered quite bad form to talk about previous lovers when you're in bed."

"You did ask," Data replied mildly. One of his hands stroked the Captain's head, smoothing down imaginary hair.

"How? How am I different? That is – " suddenly remembering that such a topic must be painful " – if you want to talk about it."

"I do not mind. He – he was far more dominant than you are, Captain. Far less gentle. I do not mean that he was violent, or uncaring – but he did not always see the small things that you see. He was not, as you are, a man of subtlety. I – I feel very much more obviously loved in your presence." He stopped short, as if feeling he had said enough about his dead friend.

Picard's heart wrenched. To imagine Data, offering all the exquisite, fathomless love at his command, and receiving back – not something inadequate, for Data had clearly been very much in love with his chosen companion, and deeply wounded by his death – but something merely ordinary. He laid his head on the welcoming chest again, determined to make his love for this unique, lonely man extraordinary.

"I can only love you the way I can," he faltered, "but everything that is in me – everything that makes me who I am – all the love I have to offer, is yours." He felt the stroking hand hold him closer. "I – I am yours, Data, if you'll have me. Always – completely." He felt his eyelids droop, and struggled to maintain his train of thought. It was very important that Data understand. "I – I don't know the words…"

"I do," came the whispered reply. "They are 'I love you'."

Picard knew it was true – had somehow, though he had feared otherwise, known it ever since their eyes met aboard that other Enterprise. But to hear it said out loud – that was something else entirely. His mouth became dry, and his mind spun with something more than sex. He shook his head: he wanted words, and they still would not come. He did not deserve to be this happy.

Moving his hand to caress his Captain's face, Data smiled. "And I know that you love me, Jean-Luc. It is a very human failing to lose the power of speech at moments of great emotion."

Picard gulped. He felt inadequate, but he would do better in the future. For now, it was enough that Data understood. He raised his head a little, and matched his lover's smile, blinking back the happy tears. "I do, Data," he whispered. "I do."

Data pulled his Captain closer, settling him into the hollow of his chest again. "Sleep, my Jean. Sleep…"

Overwhelmed at last by a deep, peaceful weariness, he curled up in the sanctuary of Data's strong arms, burying his face into the soft, warm pillow that Data's chest provided, and fell asleep. He was perfectly, blissfully, content.

To be completed in Chapter 2