The first time

Summary: They say you always remember the first time. Picard/Data, so M for slashy stuff.

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???

* * *

When, Jean-Luc wondered, had it first started? Mostly, falling in love is something which happens when you're looking the other way, rather like walking backwards off a pier: by the time you notice, you're already swimming. Was it when Data first came on board? He didn't recall any sudden frisson at the android's presence, though he had always found the man intriguing. Was it when he realised that something had happened between him and Tasha Yar, though neither would admit to it: when he understood that Data could be a sexual as well as a social being?

Was it when they had nearly lost him to Maddox's misplaced desire to replicate Noonien Soong's work like so many drones – or was it when meeting Lore threw into sharp focus Data's fierce loyalty to his friends? Perhaps when he had seen the quality of Data's devotion to little Sarjenka as he tried to save her life, and the equal quality of his obedience to his Captain in agreeing without opposition to destroy something so precious? Or was it over time, as each of his own sporadic and privately-conducted relationships failed, adding to the nagging feeling that, if his partner had been Data, they would somehow have lasted?

He didn't know: looking back, he could no longer imagine a time when he didn't love Data. He brought himself up sharply. He had meant to say 'want' – why had he thought 'love'? That was a whole different ball game… He liked the feel of it, though: when he was brave enough, he might even try it on for size.

The butterflies in the Captain's stomach tap-danced all over his insides as he walked, a little too casually, to his quarters. Over the last few weeks, he and his second officer had slowly come to an understanding that sent shivers through his whole body, thrilling him with shaking anticipation.

Tonight, he and Data would be together for the first time, and the overwhelming, joyous thought absolutely terrified him.

* * *

Jean-Luc looked up at the pale gold face whose intelligent eyes searched his own. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might exceed its artificial specifications, and he felt himself tremble slightly under the other man's gaze. Data's hand came into his vision, touching his face so lightly he hardly felt it as a physical thing: it was more as if the android was stroking his soul. In the heat that threatened to consume him, he began to shiver. His lips moved, but he could articulate nothing; his hands shook and he had no idea what to do next. He felt helpless, breathless, his insides in chaos and his brain a delicious, boiling confusion. He wanted to say so much – oh, so much – but his voice was trapped within him.

Data's fingers trailed across his relaxed lips, pulling them gently apart and turning his stomach to living fire; the sensation, so intimate, so anticipated, so long since any other touch, was almost too much to bear, and the thought of what was still to come made tears start into his eyes. As he lay trapped beneath his lover, he could not have told whether they were tears of joy or of dread.

He felt them escape, and saw Data's eyes follow their path across his hot, dry skin. The weight above him shifted, and Data leaned in, his soft, wet tongue collecting and savouring the tangy saltiness. Then his head dipped and he was gently kissing Jean-Luc's damp face as a mother kisses her crying child, soothing away the fear, covering his eyelids with golden lips and making little, inarticulate mewls of desire until Jean-Luc thought he would drown in ecstasy. He caught hold of the android's thick brown hair, sleek and smooth as cat-fur, and pulled Data's head into his body, feeling the circles traced by his tongue when his lips were crushed too close for kissing. Jean-Luc began to push Data's head down, past his neck, across his shoulders, towards – towards…

Data's teeth found a nipple, vulnerable, exposed, begging to be bitten. He nipped it, sharply enough for the Captain to yelp, and licked around it, the roughness of his tongue making it stand up to meet this hot, sweet storm. As his mouth focussed on one side of the body beneath him, Data's sensitive left hand stroked the other nipple, matching the sensations his mouth created and teasing it too into keen alertness. Shafts of desire erupted through Jean-Luc as first one, then the other delicate bud of flesh was stimulated and rested, and as the ecstasy that almost verged into pain continued to lift him up, he felt the skin of his balls tightening in desperate desire. He wanted Data – wanted him inside him, wanted to be inside him – now. Now…

The thick longing was too much to bear, and he blindly reached for Data's free hand, eager to guide it down to enfold him, to push him off this terrible, craving cliff edge of desire that he desperately wanted to leap from, but could not reach alone. He found Data's fingers, then his voice. "Please…" He pushed the hand towards the end of the bed, his need urgently clear.

"Oh I don't think so, sir," Data's voice purred, a hint of menace behind his words. Jean-Luc's eyes opened in something like alarm. Data's face was now just a breath away from his own, Data's eyes melting into his own, Data's lips brushing against his own as he whispered, "You'll have to wait longer than that, Captain." Then the golden mouth was pressing into his, lips parting as they joined softly into one, Data's delicate tongue running along his upper teeth, tentatively exploring to see if there would be a welcome. Jean-Luc responded more than willingly, and his own tongue met Data's in a delicious slipping of muscle over muscle, warmth and wetness tasting and drinking each other, deeper and deeper, dissolving in the increasing need to penetrate the darkest secrets of each other's mouths. Jean-Luc was lost, melting into the man above him with perfect, sublime abandon.

Needing to see the source of these consuming sensations, he broke off the kiss, deep as it was, and pushed the android back to where he could observe his face slick with sweat and his lips sensuous and swollen. His eyes quartered the pale features, and they took his breath away: Data was quite simply the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. In that moment, he knew he would be prepared to die for this man, and almost longed for the chance to do it. In that moment, he truly knew he loved him. The knowledge was frightening, its impact overwhelming.

"Data, stop…"

The android's innocent eyes – innocent even now – showed slight concern, slight confusion. "Am I to understand you no longer wish to do this, sir?"

"No – I mean yes – of course I want to do it, Data – I've never wanted anything so much in my whole life. It's just I'm – I'm…"

Data's brow creased. "Are you afraid, sir?"

Jean-Luc felt relief wash through him. "Terrified." He half smiled. "This is my first time." He spoke very low, but the android's artificial ears heard the comment. He felt Data's cool, dry hand against his face, reassuring and gentle.

"I will not hurt you, Jean-Luc."

"I know – I know that, Data."

Data seemed to hesitate, and a new fear gripped Jean-Luc: that he had miscalculated Data's willingness to commit himself so fully to his Captain. Perhaps he needed more time, or perhaps he was here just at Jean-Luc's bidding, not of his own volition. The thought settled like ice on his manufactured heart. Then he became aware that Data was speaking. "…so this is also – a first time for me, Captain. Although I have extensive programming in heterosexual possibilities, I believe Dr Soong did not envisage the fact that I might wish to – become intimate with a man."

"Do you – do you really want to, Data?"

Data looked quizzical. "I would not be here if I did not want to, Captain, and neither would you."

Relaxing at the android's calm, sensible words, Jean-Luc reached out a hand to touch Data's face, mirroring the other's gesture. He closed his eyes. There was nothing in the feel of smoothness to suggest that he was caressing anything other than freshly-shaved human skin. He moved his fingers across Data's chin, down his throat, reaching at length the chest that he had never noticed before. He did not believe anyone on the ship had ever noticed it: Data's uniform collar was high and stiff, and his leisure clothing – such as he had – was similarly designed. He drifted his fingers through quite unsuspected hair, and opened his eyes in surprise.

"Chest hair, Data?"

Data's head moved slightly to one side in his characteristic gesture of surprise. "Yes, sir. Is there something wrong with it?"

Jean-Luc smiled as he wound his fingers gently through the long strands. "No, Data – not at all. It's just – I hadn't expected it. Has it always been there?"

"No, sir. I have been experimenting with various aspects of my physical appearance recently. You recall that I once grew a beard."

"Yes, Commander Riker told me. I believe he tried quite hard to forget."

"I agree that it was not entirely successful. This, however – " Data looked down with some smugness at his naked chest, covered in pale brown hair teased up on end by Jean-Luc's playful hand " – I consider a much more satisfactory experiment." His eyes met Jean-Luc's again, suddenly anxious. "Do you – approve, sir?"

"Oh yes, Data. I definitely do." He had reached the golden navel now, and ran his fingers around the artificial depression in something like wonder. He found himself breathing more quickly, his mouth dry with anticipation; as if pleading with him to continue, Data shuddered slightly. His eyes moved further down the android's body, and his stomach leapt in response and anticipation. He tried to realise the enormity of what he was about to do, but all he could think of was that Data seemed to be holding his breath as well, waiting for his Captain's final caress. His head spun.

Data shifted slightly, so that the thickness of him, large now with longing, brushed against Jean-Luc's. Pale pink rose up to meet pale gold, and Jean-Luc felt as though he were on fire. But still he didn't move. He wanted to hold this moment – this perfect, first, unrepeatable moment, poised on the edge of something beautiful that would change his world for ever. He could taste the sharp, bright cleanness of the future. "Jean-Luc?" Data asked softly, bringing him out of his reverie. "Sir, if you wish to wait, or to – take things more slowly – I am happy to oblige, sir."

Picard laughed, the tension draining from him as the moment dissolved. The incongruity of Data's words and their meaning was strangely comforting. "Oh no, Data, I don't want to wait. I've already waited too long. It's just that – what we are about to do will change everything. Nothing will ever be the same between us, and I want to savour that moment of transition. I want to make it last. I almost never want it to stop."

Data was silent, as if considering the Captain's words. "Am I to understand," he said at last, "that you wish me to keep you on the edge of fulfilment indefinitely?"

"No, Data – Good God, no! It's a human trait – that drawing out the anticipation is part of the pleasure. Deferred, as opposed to immediate, gratification."

"If it is a human trait, sir, I doubt I shall ever understand it. Though I shall endeavour to do as you suggest. I wish to – make you happy, Captain. I am grateful that you can articulate your needs."

Picard sighed. "Too many long words, Data," he muttered.

"Sir?"

"There are times, Mr Data, when even I don't want to talk!"

"Ah. I apologise, sir. I will refrain from talking." As if to prove the truth of his words, Data moved deftly until the two men lay side by side, the length of their bodies touching, Jean-Luc now exposed to his lover's eyes. Keeping his eyes on his Captain's face, Data reached out a lazy hand and traced his fingernails lightly around the base of his sex. Immediately stabs of glory shot through Jean-Luc again, and he was helpless.

For a being who could have crushed the man beside him like a toy, Data's touch was like gossamer. His fingers floated up and down the thickening shaft, tempting it with insubstantial promises to a beautiful fullness. Then the teasing touch became a certain grasp, as tender skin was pulled back to expose the delicate head, throbbing with new life, weeping with joy and desire. Data dipped his mouth to cover the sensitive tip, delicately licking the moisture away, turning Jean-Luc's body to leaping flame. He reached out to push Data's head down, and felt hot, wet slickness envelop him until Data held him whole, gently moving his mouth up and down, up and down, taking him to the edge of that cliff and pulling him back again, always knowing exactly how far to go, exactly when to stop, exactly when to begin stroking the flesh again. It was an exquisite torture.

From wanting to reach the peak of desire and burst out from it, Jean-Luc now wanted what Data was giving him: to prolong the beautiful agony for as long as possible. He followed his lover up the highest mountains of desire, and many times could have thrown himself off and fallen to a spectacular, glorious death at Data's skilled hands, but he held himself back, drinking in the ever-sharpening sensations like a man in the desert, daring himself to go just one step further, just one ledge higher. Never had he taken such a passive role in sex, and never had he been so completely fulfilled. There was neither past nor future, neither memory nor anticipation: there was only a perfect absorption in a never-ending, all-consuming present. Then Data moved, and now his hand slid easily along the wet length, the tempo increasing and suddenly urgent in its final, pulsing need. With expert violence he swiftly brought his Captain to the highest cliff at last, thrusting him into headlong ecstasy as he exploded with passion and fury into the android's welcoming mouth, the golden throat drinking him whole.

As the stars began to fade, Jean-Luc became aware that his whole body was shaking, and he held on to Data like a leaf in a storm, small growls of joy occasionally escaping him. He pulled the golden flesh to him, treasuring the feel and the warmth of it, longing to lose himself completely in it, to fill up its empty space with the atoms of his own, to become one with it and never let it go.

He felt strong arms move around him, and knew that he was held in a bond that would never dissolve. Slowly, his trembling stilled as he returned to the commonplace, but the memory of what he had experienced lingered, and the occasional shudder travelled through him like wind in the trees, all dappled sunlight and the heat of beauty on a summer's day. He felt limpid and calm, empty and utterly at peace.

He must have dozed, because when he opened eyes he didn't remember closing, they were met by deepest, tranquil amber as Data watched him, guarding him in his rest. Jean-Luc smiled lazily, safety and contentment cocooning him. "Data," he whispered. "I – I –thank you." He shook his head slightly. There were no words to describe what he felt.

Data leaned over and kissed him; a gentle kiss that had nothing of lust and everything of love about it. "Thank you, Captain. I have waited a long time for this moment."

"Oh Data… But I want to do the same for you. This isn't one-way street. I want to please you, too. Tell me how to please you, Data – tell me what you want."

Data ran a finger down Jean-Luc's cheek, mischievously moving it away each time the older man tried to turn his mouth to catch at it. "I only want to delight you, sir."

Jean-Luc propped himself up in his elbows, finally slipping from the other's embrace. "Data, you can't go on calling me 'sir' when you're lying naked next to me, in my bed, making love to me."

Suddenly, Data looked shy. "I will do as you wish, Jean-Luc. But – I like calling you 'sir'."

Jean-Luc blinked. The man was full of surprises. He leaned across, took Data's face in his hand and gently brushed the beautiful, pale lips with his own. "Then 'sir' I shall be," he whispered. Their bodies moved closer, and Jean-Luc felt Data leap up in expectation of fulfilment so long denied, as his slender legs wrapped themselves around his Captain. This time, it was the human hand that enclosed them both, encasing them in its gently violent grip, making of them one flesh. "Oh, Data – my Data…"

Riker to Picard.

The tinny voice slapped them in the face, and for a moment both were stunned into stillness, but Jean-Luc had to answer. Not relinquishing his hold, with his free hand he pressed the bedside control. "Number One?" His voice was hoarse with sex.

Urgent message from Admiral Nechayev, Captain.

That bloody woman. He swallowed, willing the words to come out normally. "Five minutes, Number One. Picard out." He looked up at the soft yellow eyes, tinged now with a sadness that must have been mirrored in his own. "We've still got five minutes," he said, hopefully.

Data shook his head. "You must attend to your duties, sir. I can wait."

Jean-Luc sighed in anger at his lover's deprivation and, as if to comfort him, Data pulled his head into the roughness of his chest. The captain buried his face in the android's body, closing his eyes against interminable responsibility for just a few seconds more. He wanted so much to be Data's fulfilment: he wanted so much to take Data into himself and feel himself fill up with the android's liquid fire. "Data…"

"I know." The wisdom of every encounter through the ages, every act of love since the world began, lay in Data's words. "Next time, Jean-Luc. Next time, I promise."

Jean-Luc smiled up at him, alive with trust. And love. "Next time, Data."

* * *

There never was a next time. Admiral Nechayev's call warning the captain of disturbing reports from the Romulan empire only just preceded the catastrophe of Shinzon.

Within a week, Data was dead, all his glorious possibilities shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Although Jean-Luc knew that B-4 held the memory of their encounter, and might even one day access it, he knew he could never ask Data's childlike brother to fulfil his desire: to share this love. Alone, he stared out at the stars, then turned his eyes back to the bed – the precious bed where, for a few brief shining moments, he had found his Camelot.

"Never forget you, Data," he whispered, his eyes stung by the bitterness of hopeless tears. He wished he had told the android that he loved him.

"Never forget you…"