DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Chris Dickenson and is copyright (c) 1989 by Chris Dickenson. Rated NC17 for sexual situations. Originally printed in Beyond the Farthest Star #4.

Pharaoh's Desire

Chris Dickenson

Kirk paced the marble floor. Unaccustomed to the flowing garments, he whipped them about impatiently as he turned. He was in an elegant lounge dominated by a huge bed piled with cushions. Behind opaque screens, musicians played light, lilting melodies to soothe the Pharaoh's heart. They played in vain.

A warm evening breeze wafted through translucent drapes as the Nile drifted serenely between her restraining banks two stories below. He strode to the open balcony, transfixed for a moment by the beauty of the moonlit panorama beneath him. He breathed deeply, inhaling the caressing breeze, and his eyes drifted to the night sky. He focused on the cold white pinpricks of light. Was this what it would have been like for his ancestors? Earthbound, unable to explore that vast unknown, destined to gaze longingly, but never to reach out beyond their own small sphere.

The soft rustle of silk against stone drew his attention back to the lounge. He froze mid-turn as his gaze fell upon her.

The woman before him was Nyota Uhura, but in this reality she was not the competent communications officer, any more than he was a starship captain. The exotic garb of an Ethiopian slave enhanced her classical beauty in a way her Starfleet uniform could not. She still wore scarlet, a veil covering most of her dark hair and cascading softly over her bare shoulders. The briefest of silk bandeaux covered her swelling breasts, and the band of her skirt swooped low on her curving hip, the filmy fabric revealing more than it covered. Her jewelry was a smooth beaten gold. Large hoops dangled from her earlobes, shimmering beneath the veil and wide bangles spanned her ebony wrists and ankles. She sank into a graceful bow as he approached her, but her bold dark eyes never left his face.

"Why have you come to me?" he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.

She rose in a fluid, feline movement, pulling herself up proudly. "Pharaoh is uncertain?" she murmured, a smile lighting her lovely face. "It is said that nothing pierces your armor.

He reached out with one finger, stroking the veil back from her face, lingering at the corner of her full, soft lips. Her skin was like brown velvet. Her obsidian eyes impaled him like daggers, building tension within him, igniting his desire and compounding his need for her.

"They have not conceived of the weapon which you wield," he replied softly, smiling the wolf smile. "Your beauty could pierce the most skillfully crafted armor."

"Ah-h-h," she replied, her voice as sweet as clover honey. "But what of your heart, Pharaoh?"

"Does my heart's desire interest you?" he questioned, his voice dangerously silky. She drifted out from beneath his touch and moved toward the balcony. Her eyes, like his, rose to the stars, and she sighed heavily.

"I am yours," she whispered, her voice husky. "Your people have conquered mine, and I have been brought to Egypt as your prize. You may take what you wish from me, that is the right of the victor over the conquered."

He followed her, putting his arms about her and staring out into the moonlight as he inhaled the spicy fragrance of her perfumed hair. "I will not take that which you will not give freely," he confessed. "But I tell you now, that even a pharaoh can be moved to worship a mortal," he turned her about in his arms, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "And I am so moved by you."

She smiled, a slow, sensuous smile of a woman mature in the ways of men. The depths of her dark eyes glittered with promises and secrets.

"I am a slave," she whispered. "But not because of the might of your soldiers..." She reached up to slide her hands beneath the soft folds of his robe. "...I am a slave because my heart has been in bondage since I first saw you."

"I give you your freedom," he replied, his gaze caressing her lovingly. "You may return to your people if you choose."

"I am free to go," she said. "But I choose to stay ... with you."

His mouth covered hers, tasting her hungrily. His hands slid over the bare skin of her back as he molded her tightly against him. The veil drifted to the floor like a crimson cloud.

The sensation of holding her, the pressure of her breasts against him filled him with mounting ardor, an aching need he had known before, but never with such force. Her lips moved against his, her tongue slipped expertly into the recesses of his mouth as she tasted him, teased him with a purposeful design. She wriggled against him, and he could feel her tight nipples harden against his chest, straining against the cool fabric.

"Nyota!" he whispered as his lips drifted to her neck, brushing the hollow at the base of her throat. He lifted her up effortlessly into his arms, and carried her to the huge, curtained bed. He continued to kiss her, sinking into the soft cushions as the curtains fell back behind them, enclosing them in a semi-opaque cocoon.

He pushed her back against the cushions, his hands wandering over her curves as she reached out to stroke his robe from his shoulders. It fell back, hanging only from the golden cord about his waist. His tan skin gleamed in the filtered moonlight, a delicious contrast to her bronze beauty. She massaged his hard, muscled chest, her long fingernails raking over his nipples lightly. He moaned, sliding her top down to expose her breasts, lowering his lips to worship them, teasing and nipping as she arched up against him, crying out in pleasure.

He slid one hand beneath the band of her skirt, and pulled until the fragile fabric tore, thrusting it aside as he continued to explore her naked flesh. He slipped the bandeau from her torso, and at last she was bare beneath him, only the golden jewelry enhancing her ebony skin.

Eager to undress him as well, she had been working at the knotted cord about his waist, and finally it gave, his robe falling behind him to the floor. His erection bobbed toward her, thrusting against her smooth dark thigh, and as he embraced her, the length of it branded her like fire, hot and hard.

He shuddered, sliding it against the tightly coiled pubic hair, the texture of it sending thrills of delight down his spine. Her hand closed about him, encircling the thick, pulsing shaft, and before he realized what she was doing, she had twisted beneath him, sliding down, her open wet mouth closing over the head of his cock. She pulled at it with her lips, her tongue probing over the ridged surface, and he swayed, his eyes fluttering shut as a wave of pleasure engulfed him. He bit his lip and thrust his hips out, sinking deeper into her throat, the wet sensations overwhelming him completely. She sucked at him rhythmically, her hands cupping and tickling his balls as they swelled toward his climax. With an incoherent mutter, he arched against her forcefully, filling her mouth with his sticky spray. She licked him clean, making a pleased sound as his hands fondled her heavy breasts.

He pulled her up to meet his kiss, his tongue probing where his cock had been, tasting her, mingled with his own musky taste and scent.

She pushed him back until he was beneath her, her lips never leaving his. As his back sank down against the cushions, she straddled him, sliding over him until his cock was pinned beneath her moist opening. She rubbed against him slowly, and he felt his cock harden into attentiveness, her languorous movement taking his breath away.

He gasped as she took him inside her, amazed at the hot tightness, and the way she moved. Her firm, round breasts bobbed as she slid back and forth, impaled upon him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down forcefully, filling her completely. She moaned, her head tossing from side to side. He felt her tighten and close about him, her taut muscles gripping him as she exploded. She cried out, arching her head back as he held her against him. He rode the wave of her orgasm, losing control as she reached the peak of ecstasy, the sight of her over him too much for him to bear.

He eased her gently down beside him, feathering kisses over her moist bronze skin, reveling in the taste of her salty flesh. He drew her against his side, their hearts pounding in unison.

"My heart's desire," he whispered. "Pharaoh's prize."

"My duty is to serve," she replied in teasing tones as she snuggled against him, expelling a sigh of contentment.

* * *

Commander Spock repeated the captain's name for the third time and realized that his voice was falling deaf ears. He crossed to the center seat, noting the captain's dazed expression. His hazel eyes were focused ahead, but he was not seeing the starfield on the viewscreen, or anything on the bridge. By all appearances, he was light years away. Spock recognized the state, Captain Kirk was daydreaming, but it was the most intense daydream Spock had ever witnessed.

"Jim," Spock whispered, now growing concerned. He grasped Kirk by the shoulder to shake him, and was suddenly deluged with such erotic sensations that he snatched his hand back like a man who has just touched a glowing ember. His sharp intake of breath finally broke Kirk's concentration.

The captain focused on the Vulcan's face, returning to reality with a start. His first officer was flushing a pale green, his eyes involuntarily drifting to communication.

Kirk realized what had happened and suppressed a grin. No wonder Spock looked embarrassed; that was one of the hottest daydreams he'd had in months. This patrol was really getting to him. He needed shore leave. And right now Spock looked like he needed shore leave, too, a week at least.

"Captain," a melodious voice pulled his attention to his left. Uhura stood beside him, a communications report in one hand for him to sign.

He smiled, taking the board and initialing it. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he murmured, taking in her classically lovely features, and recalling the vivid daydream. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Kirk smiled at Uhura, the wolf smile he had used in the daydream, and she returned his perusal boldly.

"My duty is to serve, Captain," she replied smoothly.

Spock cleared his throat and raised a brow. "Any orders, sir?"

Kirk tore his eyes from Uhura. Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. He could feel her eyes upon him and he could feel his face growing hot. Spock waited for his response, fighting a valiant battle to control his expression.

"No," Kirk said. "But I'll let you know if I ... uh, think of anything, Mister Spock."

"Indeed," the Vulcan replied, with a significant glance at Uhura. "I shall look forward to it, Captain."

"I'm sure you will, Mister Spock," Kirk replied, now grinning broadly. "I'm sure you will."