Just when you thought it was safe to read your mail.... Presenting another episode of Star Trek: The Next Sensation To boldly go where only naughty fans have gone before! Episode 3: Unmasked PLEASE NOTE!!! The following short story is rated NC-17, with _very_ good reason. It is meant for adult readers with open minds. Please note: this is erotica rather than science fiction, even though it is written about the characters from Star Trek: The Next Generation. ************************************************************************ Bail-out warning for those who have problems with a) homosexuality b) serious gender-bending (In case I need to spell this out, a & b figure heavily in the story!!) ************************************************************************ You are welcome to pass this story around except for a few caveats: 1) Keep this entire header attached and keep the story together 2) Don't make money off it (right, I wish!) Thanks! Paramount is wholly non-responsible for this story, and all standard disclaimers apply. Star Trek and its characters are registered trade marks of Paramount, Inc., and no copyright infringement is intended. This story copyright 1994, the lady of shalott All Rights Reserved A few points before we begin... :-9~~ Items between /slash marks/ are thoughts. *Stars* and _underscores_ are used for emphasis. This episode is a slightly >ahem< *different* interpretation of "Masks" Please note that this probably won't make much sense to you if you haven't seen "Masks". Of course, I suppose you can still enjoy the mating part even if you don't get the ritual :). If you HAVE seen "Masks", please note that I've played fast and loose with the characters and scenes. Gendered pronouns were annoying as hell to deal with in this one; hope they aren't too confusing. Now, without further ado... UNMASKED *** Picard approached Data, who was leaning against the odd brazier, yet another personality imprinted over his features. /Only I can know what he must be feeling/ he thought, grimly studying the face, so familiar and yet so completely unknown. /To be possessed by something so alien, submerged in a sea of unintelligible voices.../ He nearly shuddered and pushed aside his concern for Data to focus on the task at hand -- getting the information to free him and save his ship. He already knew a little about Masaka, that the queen both terrified and exalted, that her will impelled the transformation. /And only this Korgano can stop her./ Kneeling by the fire, he almost reached out a hand to the huddled figure out of instinct, before memory twitched and reminded him of the strength of this body that these personalities did not know how to control. His wrist still ached from the iron grip a previous personality had seized him in. /So who is this one?/ he wondered. "Hello," he said tentatively. Data's face lifted to his with a startled expression. "Wh-who are you? Did she send you?" "I'm Captain Picard... she? Do you mean Masaka? Who are you?" "I am Yanhe... Masaka did not send you? You are not one of her guards?" "No, no I'm not -- but I must speak with Masaka. Please, can you tell me how to reach her?" Yanhe stared at him incredulously. "Reach her? She will come for us all too soon! And then we'll be lost!" "Lost?" he asked sharply. "How?" But the other wasn't listening. "I don't want to be her sacrifice!" Yanhe whispered. "She destroys even as she delights. She would extinguish me with her fire if ever she caught me... only Korgano could lie with her and not be lost in the taking." Picard leaned forward, reassuringly. "Yanhe, listen to me -- I'll be her sacrifice. She can take me instead of you -- but tell me what I must do! How do we speak with her?" Yaneh stared at him blankly. "You don't. Only Korgano speaks _with_ Masaka. She may speak _to_ you though, if you raise her temple." Yanhe laughed faintly. "I'm sure she's hungry for some new sacrifices after her long rest -- she'll be as happy to take you as another!" "How do we raise the temple? And what will she do -- will I be able to speak with her if she takes me?" Jean-Luc struggled to understand what Yanhe took for granted, only to awaken more mocking laughter. "Speak with her? Oh, yes. You'll be able to speak -- to beg her to set you free! But she's greedy, she won't release you; all she cares about is her own pleasure. And soon enough that's all you'll care about too; pleasing her, giving yourself to her." Yanhe shuddered, his eyes faraway. "Sometimes she teases her victims before taking them... I saw her play with one of them -- she held him by her throne for three days before she finally allowed him to please her." Yanhe's expression was awed. "She is glorious..." "Yanhe, what do you mean -- 'held him by her throne'?" Yanhe smiled dreamily. "I forget his name... but he had seen Masaka bathing, as no man may. She kept him by the throne, chained, forced to watch her take others and see their ecstasy... every so often, she would stroke him, lightly, or just taste him, enjoying his pleas for release..." Flushing hotly, Picard suddenly realized that he'd misunderstood the nature of the sacrifice. "Then, she allowed him to taste her, to pleasure her with his mouth. But she hadn't finished tormenting him -- she had him taken in front of her, entered over and over by the strongest of her guards, making sure that he still did not release." Jean-Luc noticed that he was panting, his own body tightening in sympathy with the story as Yanhe continued, still in that dreamy voice. "Finally, she had him whipped... he was even begging for more of that by then. Only then did she permit him to touch her, to put his hands on her body and inside her, giving her pleasure... he was so desperate that he held nothing back, all he wanted was to be taken by her. And when at last she threw him to the floor and mounted him, his whole body convulsed with the delight of her possession, so wildly that he lifted her off the ground with his thrusts... ahhh, she enjoyed that one." Yanhe's eyes met his then, shining faintly. "But he couldn't even speak after she'd done with him." His mouth was dry. Jean-Luc had to swallow several times before he could force out a rather shaky voice. "Yanhe, what do we do to raise her temple? Please, tell me." Uncomfortably stimulated, he shifted his weight, trying to relax. Yanhe eyed him. "You'll take my place? If you raise the temple, she'll come... but she'll want a sacrifice -- a strong one! She doesn't have Korgano anymore. Only he had the control to satisfy her without taking his own release first, so she has to take others slowly now..." /Thank God for Starfleet Discipline/ Picard thought. "Yes, Yanhe, I will -- now, tell me!" "Give me your hand." Yanhe's grip, Data's grip, was warm and gentle this time as the strange character drew a finger lightly over his palm, sketching a sign delicately on him, sending faint tingles of sensation through his already-aroused system. Tense, his body attuned to the impressions entering him through the gateway of his hand, Jean-Luc immediately perceived the shock even as it shuddered through Data's body. "What is it, Yanhe?" he asked urgently, leaning forward -- the other's eyes were growing blank, the mouth relaxing into a dazed O as the hand slipped from his own. "She has... found me," Yanhe whispered. The chest plaque was writhing, not simply shifting as it had with the changing personalities. "Ahhh.... Masaka!" Yanhe cried, crumpling, in a voice simultaneously exultant and desperate. "Masaka!" Picard caught Data's shoulders. "Take me instead! Show yourself --" He broke off, inhaling sharply as the face lifted to his. The plaque on Data's chest was no longer a raised figure but deeply engraven, and the expression was one of ecstasy, not rational thought. "Yanhe?" he asked faintly, stunned at the change. "Yanhe? Oh, yes... I am Yanhe..." Hands reached out to his face, traced his lips and cheekbones gently, tenderly, even as Jean-Luc tried ineffectually to pull them away. He gave up, trying to ignore the curious caresses while he attempted to get through to the once- rebellious Yanhe, who had evidently feared destruction with good cause. But the strong fingers were trailing shivers over his frame as they slid from his features to his chest, inquisitively searching the fabric for sensitive points. "Yanhe," Jean-Luc gasped out, finding that his breath was coming harder, "the sign! Please, finish the sign." He managed to coax one hand from its exploration of his body back to his palm. Despite the pleasurable distraction as the other hand moved down to investigate his thighs, he used the finger to retrace the sign on his flesh until Yanhe half-consciously finished the symbol. "Thank you," he said hurriedly, moving to rise. "Stay..." whispered the new Yanhe, stroking him. The hand he'd just released twined around his legs and slipped its fingers between his thighs. A soft sussuration of breath forced its way out of him. "Stay with me, let me show you what Masaka has given me... Ah, the sweet fire of her." Yanhe rubbed gently, outlining Jean-Luc's manhood through his uniform. "Yanhe... please, let me...ahhh... go," Picard swallowed hard as Yanhe pressed lips to the swelling bulge; warm breath, pressure, and the promise of more all mixing to arouse him. /I want this/ his body informed him treacherously, ignoring his mind's warnings of danger. He could imagine how it would be to succumb to the desire -- Data's body, so perfectly designed, moving with his, satisfying every hunger... the idea itself was arousing. /This is NOT Data/ he angrily told himself. /This is some alien personality that's just been taken by Masaka.../ Moving swiftly, he slipped out of Yanhe's grasp, disregarding the other's soft sound of protest. "I must go," he gasped out, dashing for the door. *** Once in the hallway, he tugged his uniform down, hoping against hope that his unfortunate predicament was not visible, and hurried off to his quarters. Barely waiting for the door to slide shut behind him, Jean-Luc stripped off his uniform and dived for the shower. "Water, programmed temperature minus 10 degrees," he ordered, and hissed as the icy blast struck his body. Ducking his head into the flow, he scrubbed himself quickly and shut off the shower just before the cold became numbing. Invigorated, all of his nerves tingling with the memory of the cold, he roughly toweled himself off. /Well, I'm in control again/ he congratulated himself on his restraint, the soft cottony nubs stroking over his body, soaking up the trickling drops. A water shower was a luxury he rarely allowed himself, the sensuous feel of liquid on skin almost sinful, the heat lamps already warming him up. Sighing with relief at his narrow escape from temptation, Jean-Luc stretched out the tension in his frame, sliding his hands down his legs and back up, calves and thighs slowly unknotting under his fingers. He rolled his shoulders, letting his head fall back, then walked into his bedroom. Letting himself drop onto the bed, he ran a hand down his chest to his flat abdomen, resting it there in unconscious enjoyment of the warmth his palm radiated into him. Eyes closed, he felt the heat stirring him with each breath that raised and lowered the weight. /I'll just lie here for a few more moments/ he told himself, shifting slightly, his hand somehow moving lower, fingers brushing the pubic curls. A dull ache built up just below them, coaxing them down to soothe the discomfort away with pressure. Biting his lip, he gave in to the urge and slid his hand into the warm juncture of his thighs, cupping his penis, which firmed up with little encouragement. Stroking gently, he circled the shaft with his fingers and had just brought his other hand down to the head, when a soft chime sounded. He froze and swore quite eloquently. Trying to collect himself, he snatched a robe out of his dresser and covered himself, making sure the tie was secure. Wearing his most intimidating captainly glare, he walked into the main room, hoping he could pack the visitor off quickly. "Come." The door swished open. Wildly, Picard wondered if he'd offended some god and if it was too late to apologize. /This just can't all be happening on the same day/ "Jean-Luc, I thought you'd want to know--" Beverly broke off. "Are you all right? You're looking very strained." "I'm fine!" he snapped shortly, mentally ordering his body to calm down. His natural attraction to Beverly was not helping the situation. "Just... a little tense." Her eyebrow raised at his tone. "I'll say. I just came by to tell you about Geordi's progress -- he didn't want to leave the bridge after he managed to access the archive." Dr. Crusher moved to his desk, the lovely flow of auburn hair swinging gently, and poked the terminal. "Computer, display--" "Doctor!" She looked at him, surprised. Drawing a deep breath, he modulated his voice. "Doctor, thank you for informing me. I'll join Mr. LaForge on the bridge shortly. If that's all..?" "No, it's not!" /How did I know she was going to say that/ Picard thought. "Something's wrong and you're trying to hide it. Come on, spill the beans." She perched on the couch and fixed him with a penetrating stare. He avoided her eyes, which, unfortunately, somehow left him looking directly at the soft swell of her breasts beneath the uniform. Those curves would fit so nicely in the palms of his hands, he mused. He wondered what she'd think if he stepped forward and... "Jean-Luc?" He jerked his eyes to her face, blushing faintly. "Er. There is absolutely nothing whatsoever wrong with me, Doctor." Was it his imagination or were her eyes were moving down his body? He hoped she wouldn't notice the growing erection--or did he hope that she would? It was hard to make up his mind suddenly. "Thank you for your concern. Um. You can go now." He paused. She made absolutely no move to get up. "Doctor?" It looked as though she was trying to stifle a grin. "Jean-Luc. Come here and sit down." She patted the couch next to her. "I'm not exactly... dressed, Doctor. If you don't mind--" "I _do_ mind. You see, I know exactly what's wrong with you, and I intend to take care of it." Beverly smiled at him cheerfully and beckoned. /Does she _mean_ that?/ he actually gulped. Unbidden, a vision of her in his arms sprang to mind. He could almost taste her lips against his, feel the rich softness of her breasts in his hands. Slowly, he moved to the couch and sat down, his whole body alive with anticipation. "Beverly," he began tenderly, "are you _sure_ you want to do this?" She looked at him, puzzled. "Of course. Really, Jean-Luc, sometimes you're positively archaic. Come on, turn around." She took hold of his shoulders and turned him so his back was to her. "You _are_ tense," Beverly complained, kneading his shoulders. "No wonder you're snapping at me. You know, Jean-Luc, it's not a crime to ask a friend for a backrub." /No, but I am definitely contemplating murder right now/ he thought savagely as her skillful hands sought out every taut muscle in his neck and shoulders, easing out the strain there and increasing the tension between his thighs in direct proportion. Her light fragrance filled his nostrils, her body heat warmed his back, and it was the most maddening position he had ever been in! /I don't think this could possibly get any worse/ Beverly reached around his body to the V of the robe and pulled it down to his waist, proving him wrong. Now the searching hands were on him, skin to skin sending frissons of heat running over his nerves. A soft whimpering noise of desperation escaped him. "Hmm? Well, don't you feel better?" Beverly asked, leaning close to attack a particularly stubborn knot, the edges of her breasts lightly sweeping across his back. /A man has limits, dammit!/ He turned to take her in his arms, determined to seduce her and to hell with the consequences... "Ogawa to Dr. Crusher," chirped her comm badge. He regarded it with loathing. "Beverly here," she replied. "Doctor, we need you in sickbay." "I'm on my way. Crusher out." She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "Now, Jean-Luc, try to relax before you go back to work. You aren't going to do anyone any good if you're all wound up." He incredulously stared as she got up and walked out. A few minutes later the shower was running again. *** /Well, we've got the temple, now where is Masaka?/ Picard wondered, as he, Troi, and Worf examined the reliefs in the vaulted temple the archive had obligingly produced in response to the sign. "Captain." Deanna called his attention to a prominent display of the moon-symbol of Korgano. "What do you think Korgano and Masaka's relationship is? Their symbols seem to be paired throughout the temple." "Mmm." Picard recalled the conversation with Yanhe; it was scarcely difficult to deduce Korgano's role. "I believe that Korgano is her consort and her counterpart. The other half of the balance, as it were. And, since 'he no longer pursues her,' as some of the personalities have told us, the balance has been thrown off." He frowned. "I think that the only way we can free the Enterprise is by restoring the balance." "But how can we do *that*?" questioned Worf. "We have not even seen Masaka yet!" "She will appear; Yanhe was certain of that..." Picard looked uneasy. "And she may demand a sacrifice." "What sort of sacrifice?" Deanna wanted to know. Picard cleared his throat. "Apparently.... well, Masaka will demand a, um, sexual sacrifice. And the sacrifice seems to be quite... er... *devastating* to the individual sacrificed. Yanhe's personality was destroyed when Masaka... came." Observing Deanna and Worf's inquisitive looks, he hurriedly continued. "But, since she hasn't appeared yet, I think we'll have to try luring her out -- by raising Korgano, if that's possible. I'm going to return to the bridge and attempt to access Korgano with Geordi's assistance. I'd like the two of you to remain here in case Masaka appears in some form; if she does, notify me." "Aye, sir," Worf acknowledged hoarsely, as Picard hastily left the room. He had just noticed a strange scent... strong, musky. From where? Nostrils flared as he searched for the source. "Worf?" Deanna asked anxiously. The Klingon's eyes were overly bright, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. He almost seemed to be hunting for something, inhaling deeply as he moved around the temple in a half-crouch. "Worf!" she repeated, louder. The female was speaking to him, Worf recognized, dimly. Unimportant, compared to the primal urge driving him to seek... there! He leaped up the stairs in a few great bounds to the throne, flanked now by flaming braziers smoking heady incense. Huge gulping breaths of the steam woke a dark hunger deep within his loins, body stirring to obey the call of the temple. Deanna, more than a little frightened, backed away. Worf's emotions roiled down the steps to her... impossible to completely shut out those darkly familiar urges that woke in everyone at times, usually held in check by thought and control. Her own body quickened in response to Worf's heat. She shook her head forcefully, tried to focus... and saw _her_. Masaka, seated upon her throne, smiling, almost smirking, at the Klingon warrior, his eyes heavy with the drugging incense. "A suitable sacrifice." The harsh female voice issued in pleased tones from Data's lips, eyes beneath the delicate mask roving over Worf. She smiled, ran a hand over his powerful thigh. "Indeed, _very_ suitable. I will enjoy breaking you, strange one." Worf snarled only faintly, unable to master the heated rush in his veins that demanded satiation. /'Yanhe's personality was destroyed when Masaka... came'/ Picard's words echoed in Deanna's thoughts. /I can't let her take Worf!/ she thought wildly. The incense was making her dizzy as well, she couldn't clear her mind, couldn't focus away the _need_ that was so potently awake in Worf... and now, in her as well. Chinking sounded as Masaka let Worf's sash fall to the stone, to be followed by his shredded uniform. The rich mahogany of his skin gleamed with sweat, sheen catching light to cast the sculpted muscles into sharpest relief. Mesmerized, Deanna felt her mouth water, staring at the bulking power of his body, and she felt an angry jealousy, desire-fueled, as Masaka placed claiming hands on him. "No!" she cried, furiously, saw Worf twitch under those invading hands that had no right to enjoy him!. Klingon instinct, she suddenly knew, was her weapon; she turned her cry of protest into a wordless, raging scream... and Worf turned, pulling away from Masaka. The howl spoke to his deepest instincts far more clearly than any of the queen's caresses; a true mate was here, calling to him! Masaka suddenly laughed. "Yes! Go to her!" Pushing Worf down the stairs, Masaka leaned back to observe. "It will be most amusing to watch you tame this one first, my sacrifice. I have no doubts you will be ready enough for me afterwards!" Deanna barely took in the words before Worf was upon her, the impact of his body sending potent shudders through her frame. He lifted her bodily off the floor, crushing her against his hardness -- a deep-throated growl rumbling through his chest vibrated against her breasts, teasing the nipples. "Worf," she moaned, eagerly, opening her mind to his wild abandon and letting the savage rush of emotion sweep her away. Hands slid over the slick, bare skin easily, she couldn't get a grip on him... frustrated, Deanna dug her nails into his flesh and clung to him as he brought them to the sun-warmed stone of the temple floor. Her scent was sweet in his mouth, dark hair tumbling in a fragrant rush out of the feeble ties he broke with the twitch of a hand. He buried his mouth in the curve of her neck, licking her voraciously, savoring the taste, the texture of her soft, unmarked shoulder and throat. She pulled herself up against him, and then their mouths were tearing at each other, greedily stealing all their breath away with open-mouthed, luxurious kisses. Impatient, he ripped the uniform from her body as easily as Masaka had removed his, loosing her firmed, full breasts to his pleasure. Lowering his head, he seized one tender nipple in a hot, demanding suckling, while his hand encircled the other sensitive globe. Deanna writhed desperately under his doubly erotic grip, the fingers squeezing her nipple with unbearably delicious pressure. Her thighs were wet with welcoming fluid, yet she was unprepared when he slid his broad hand between them, his palm covering the soft mound and fingers teasing open the soft folds of her vulva to move into her possessively. "Oh! ohh, yes, please, Worf, again," she gasped. She felt aglow inside, the warmth of his hands and breath fuel for the ache inside her, meeting the blanketing heat of his emotions. Opened to him fully, Deanna felt the Klingon mating urge even as he did, wanted to meet his violent need. Her breath was in short, swift pants now, her hips surging to press her clitoris against his callused palm. But she wanted to taste him as well, sent her hands on a quest over his body to his rock-hard chest and tight abdomen. They worked down, fingers running fluidly over him to the shadowing curls over his full, erect member. Every stab of pleasure resounded from his mind to her own, teaching her the handling of this magnificent body. Guttural Klingon words exploded from him as she sought out the most sensitive points and lingered on them, extracting every last thrill of pleasure from his body. Light, feathery touches heightened his tension; this delicate lovemaking threatened to undo the last shreds of control that remained to him. "Deanna..." he growled softly. His mouth devoured her, teeth catching her skin in stinging bites that nearly broke the skin, little flashes of sensation exploding over her. Some part of him still feared to unleash his instincts fully... this body beneath his was so soft, so tender, not like a Klingon's. Deanna sensed his dim concern, frustrated with his refusal to surrender. Twisting, she rolled them over. Now straddled over his sweat-slicked breadth, she pressed his shoulders to the floor. "I want to see you," she whispered with shameless curiosity into his ear. She slid her body down, rubbing her sex over his until her soft buttocks rested on his thighs, then began her investigation, eyes half-shut in Sensuous delight. A single, delicate hand cupped his bulging sac, already drawing closer to his body; the other closed around the upthrust penis, so large her hand did not hold the whole length of him. Licking her lips, she met his eyes, and then she was turning around, her depths open to him from behind while she lowered herself and sucked the throbbing, engorged head, slowly taking in more of him. The texture of his skin was alien, more rugged, with soft ridges for her tongue to explore and harden. Such a basic pleasure, to truly _know_ him, to feel the rhythm of his breath breaking up, his control failing. The liquid trail she left as she shifted downwards felt like acid to him, searing on his skin as she took him into her hands. But suddenly she was moving over him, mouth descending to claim his rock-hard cock for her enjoyment. /My mate/ he thought incoherently, breath harder to force into his lungs. He looked down, saw the dark, sweet folds of her sex, flushed to dark rose from his first, mild invasion; the labia invited a more ruthless searching. Grasping her hips, he drew them back towards him, sultry stabs of pleasure from her moist enveloping mouth dragging him with increasing speed to the pinnacle, and then he had her against his mouth and could seek into her without obstacle. Her softness, redolent with musk, gave way before his insistent, demanding tongue... Deanna felt the hard yet undulating length slide over and between her shielding labia to enter the slick channel and trail lines of heat up and down it. Shuddering, she moaned against his shaft, felt it throb in response. He moved deeper still, mouth closing over the lips of her cleft, no longer gentle now but demanding, teeth grazing her tender, excited flesh. She squirmed a little involuntarily, and his hands dug into her soft thighs in response, holding her firmly still, open to his hunger. Fixed thus, Deanna took the only revenge available, suckled the cock more thoroughly... a sudden pulse told her that Worf was on his verge, about to plunge. "Worf!" she cried, wanting him inside her, filling her when he erupted, just as he desired her succulent folds embracing his hardness. He lifted her easily, loosened his grip so she could turn back to him, and set her just over his thighs, ready to move into her slowly. Impatient, Deanna didn't wait for him, but seized the ready cock and plunged herself onto it, sinuously twisting her body to ease the entry. "Mmm!" she moaned, stretched and pierced to her limits, feeling the tip of his shaft teasing at the very top of her channel. Worf literally bucked against her, his powerful muscles lifting them both from the ground with his thrusts. Gravity pulled her down onto him hard as they returned to earth, only to leave it again in a final, consuming rush of ecstasy, as she felt his release in a single pulse that traveled the length of his shaft and flooded her depths so satisfyingly, even as her own channel tightened convulsively around him. Spent, Worf, let his head fall back to the ground, panting faintly. /I had no idea human females were so eager!/ His thoughts returned to some semblance of normality with the satiation of his urge. Deanna, lying curled atop him, actually purred with satisfaction, fingers stroking over his chest. /How marvelous/ Deanna thought smugly, running her hands over Worf. The waves of pleasure were gradually dying away, leaving her tingling with afterglow. Biting her lip, Deanna wondered naughtily whether Worf would be interested in a second round... her body jumped and stirred eagerly at the thought. Letting her hand drift towards Worf's thighs, she peeked up at his face inquiringly. He was asleep. Deanna levered herself off his body, glaring at him in annoyance. /I wasn't done yet!/ she thought petulantly. And then a warm hand was stroking her shoulder from behind... Deanna whirled and looked up at Masaka. "I thought _he_ would tame _you_," the queen observed with no little amusement, easily pulling Deanna up into her arms. "Evidently it is the other way around." Deanna, pressed against Masaka's chest, felt the hard bulge of the queen's shaft rising into her sex, transmitting delightful pulses to her stimulated nerves. Data's body was firm next to hers, the inhuman strength hidden under smooth, soft skin. "No matter. You will do quite nicely in his stead." Suddenly realizing that she'd just been elected sacrifice in Worf's place, Deanna made a valiant attempt to wriggle free, but Masaka's hand in the small of her back held her pinned. The other hand traced a wavering path over her body down to her thighs, dipping into her warm, wet cleft easily. "Ohhh," Deanna sighed softly as the thumb pressed into her clitoris so gently, then began to massage a soft spiral outwards while the fingers delved into her channel. Masaka claimed her mouth tenderly, skillful tongue teasing hers into reciprocating. Deanna let her body relax into Masaka's embrace, feeling her nipples harden in anticipation. Masaka lightly nibbled her chin, moved down to her neck and scattered soft, sweet kisses over the bruised flesh. She coaxed another sigh out of Deanna, pressing the thrusting fingers up higher into her, feeling the silken fluids lubricate her hand. Her cock was already erect, ready to escape from its bonds, and Masaka guided Deanna's hand to the hardness of it. Throbbing length hot against her hands through the encasing fabric, the penis demanded to be freed; Deanna slowly opened the trousers of Data's uniform and felt it almost leap into her hand. "Ahhh," breathed Masaka, her lips curving into a smile against Deanna's skin. The shaft was finely shaped, rousing into velvety strength with her caresses. Masaka's hand slipped out of her, leaving her empty and needy, closed over hers and slicked her lubricating moisture over the cock's head. Deanna shivered with excited agitation as Masaka brought them together, positioned the quickened member at her ripe, waiting cleft and occupied her with a langorously slow penetration. The queen held her off the ground, lowering her onto the shaft by achingly small intervals until she was completely entered and filled with the pulsating organ. Speared, Deanna gave herself up to Masaka's power, wrapping her legs around the queen and letting Masaka support her trembling body. No longer even holding herself up, Deanna rocked against the hardness, feeling the probing thrusts titillating the walls of her channel. Masaka leaned Deanna's torso back, bent warm lips to her rose-tipped breasts and drew wet patterns over her flushed skin with an adept tongue, feeling her body's tremors echoed in the clenching of her sex. Poised for one quick instant with her penis almost withdrawn, she held Deanna still and taut just above her, then pulled the sheath down upon her and thrust into the descent, bodies shuddering together in a final wave of bliss. Deanna heard her own voice crying out as if from a distance while the climax carried her away from herself, scarcely able to credit her own abandon. And then the rush slipped away, and she was empty and unconnected once more, body lowered casually to the floor as Masaka, now sated, rose once more to her throne. Soft, moaning pants escaped her as she lay weakly on the ground, unable to stir herself to motion. Was it a moment or an hour when she felt Worf's hand on her shoulder rousing her? It was still the hardest thing she'd ever done to pull herself off the floor, using him as a support. "Counselor... are you alright?" he asked with urgent concern. "Did I... injure you?" She stared at him, realized he didn't know what had happened between her and Masaka. "Oh... no! No, Worf, I'm... I'll be fine. Just help me get up and, um, get a new uniform." Deanna trembled against him, still dizzy. "We have to tell Captain Picard about... Masaka's appearance." He would have spoken, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. "We'll... talk, later. Right now, we have other things to worry about." He nodded, grimly, gazing up at the impassive queen once more seated on her throne. *** When Deanna and Worf entered the bridge a short while later, Captain Picard was standing over Geordi, a gleaming mask in his hands. "Captain," Deanna swallowed, avoiding Will's inquiring gaze at her wobbly tone, and announced, "Masaka... is here." Picard faced her, aware that he was going to have to play Korgano to this queen, and probably get _very_ thoroughly taken in the process -- an idea, he had to admit, which seemed more and more palatable since the uncomfortable stimulation he'd received earlier refused to meekly subside. "What form has she taken?" Deanna prayed that she wasn't as red with embarrassment as she felt. "Um, Data's, sir," she almost squeaked. Unbidden, the momentary fantasy he'd experienced under Yanhe's hands, of being pleasured by Data, resurged with a seductive allure. Jean-Luc issued a stern reprimand to his hormones, which unfortunately paid him little mind. "I see," he responded, glad that his voice, at least, had not betrayed him. "Well, I suppose I'm just going to have to give this a try," he said offhandedly, gazing at the mask. "Are you sure that's a good idea? We have no idea what this Masaka might do to you!" demanded Riker. /Oh yes we do/ thought Deanna. /Oh yes we do/ thought Picard. He said merely, "Since we only have a few hours left, we have to take the best option open to us." Moving to the turbolift, he hesitated. "*I'll* contact *you* when it's safe... don't... er... interrupt Masaka and me until then." "Captain, at least allow me to accompany you!" exclaimed Worf. "No!" Jean-Luc nearly shuddered at the thought. It might be necessary to make love to Masaka in order to save his ship, and he might even enjoy the experience, but he had _no_ desire for any of his crew to look on while he... performed his duty. "That *won't* be necessary, Mr. Worf. No, all of you stay here and... and monitor the ship's systems!" /That should keep them busy/ He decisively walked to the 'lift. The turbolift doors cut him off from the concerned faces of his crew; he lifted the mask to his face. Tying it on, he bound himself into the strange alternate world, submitting to the ritual needs of its culture. He had barely finished putting it on when the doors were swishing open, delivering him to the temple level. The strange-wrought mask, resting on him so lightly he barely felt it and saw it only as a shadow around his eyes, closed off avenues of peripheral vision to focus his gaze ahead. Only memory told Jean-Luc that there were walls to his sides as the world narrowed to the door at the hallway's end that led to the temple. Was that incense, the dark and spicy taste in his mouth and nostrils? Alien scents, welcoming and frightening at once, as multiple as the voices from the archive, weaved into his lungs with every inhalation. The soft swish of the doors startled him--had he really crossed the hallway so quickly?--the temple somehow reached out and pulled him in, embracing him warmly as if in recognition. Strange, how the mask changed things so... where before he had been an intruder, now he belonged, a part of the whole cycle, marked and shielded by the mask. Jean-Luc made his way to the throne through the hazy atmosphere, the air heavy with sunlit warmth. "Korgano." He looked up at his queen, dominant and enthroned, and knew that only he could cast her down, conquer her and rebuild the broken cycle. /I must _be_ Korgano/ he thought. Only by integrating himself into the rhythms of this alien ritual could he overcome Masaka. The queen came down to him, her mask pooling shadows around the eyes that gazed into his own. He fleetingly acknowledged the _rightness_ of her incarnation, the shining gold of skin and eyes so close to her flame, and wondered whether he suited his own role as well. She reached over to lay a hand, warm as it should be, against his face, stroking the lines of jaw and cheekbones with fingers strong enough to crush them. "Korgano," she repeated, her voice tender. He didn't let it deceive him. He'd seen what she could do; the sudden quenching of Yanhe left him with no doubts of her cruelty. It was a narrow path he was navigating through her dark nature, and a misstep would mean not only his destruction but death for his ship... Somehow, it was hard to marshal his usual concern for his vessel, his crew; the situation demanded that he submerge himself in the basic, yet infinitely treacherous circle that was the heart of the alien civilization. "I thought you would never come," she spoke again, fingertips trailing down his chest. The delicate pressure focused on a nipple, urged it to firmness. "Has it been so long?" he asked hoarsely. Small tingles of pleasure spun out from her teasing grip. Without willing it, he nudged closer to her warmth. Her eyes lowered demurely. "Yes," she whispered. "I thought I had lost you." Her other hand reached out for his, dabbled fingers in his palm. "Lost, only to be found," he countered, taking the next step in their verbal dance. He was finding the rhythm easy to slip into, pairing his response with an answering caress. "Or have I found you?" he suggested. She stiffened, the gold eyes seized him. "You will never catch me, Korgano. No matter how fine a hunter you are, no matter how long the pursuit," she hissed softly, threatening to break the pattern of exchange. "Do you want to be chased forever?" he asked simply. She relaxed a little, looked away. Sensing an opening, he pressed the attack. "Do you not want to taste the pleasures of being caught -- and then begin the hunt again, this time as the hunter?" That caught her attention. A faint smile touched her lips. "To hunt again," she mused. "To hunt *you*, my sweet Korgano?" "Without me, you are not whole... you live for the heat and passion of the hunt, as do I," he answered softly. The gold eyes widened, and she suddenly moved, seizing his shoulders. For a grim moment, he feared he'd made a mistake, and then she was holding him close, barely enough room between them for air to circulate through, laughing softly. "Yes. Yes, my lovely Korgano. You know me far too well." Her hands were cupping his face now. "And I am hungry, my sweet, aching with hunger for those pleasures you tempt me with. It has been so long. Ah, but I still remember your softness beneath me, when last you captured me." A finger running along his lips probed into his mouth and tested him. Obeying the unspoken demand, he parted his lips and took it in, suckling gently on it as she searched him. "Well? Tell me, my love, how will you please me this time?" she murmured. Her hand slipped around him, rested against his back and coaxed him closer. He felt her hard cock pressing against his own, now her fingers drawing away from his mouth to open his uniform and allow her access to his body. Pulling her close, Jean-Luc closed his eyes and brought their mouths together in a fathomless kiss as she slipped fingers inside his undergarment to get at his sex, rubbing strong, talented fingers over him. Delight flooded him at her touch, so skilled and thorough in its investigation. The taste of her mouth was startlingly cool, fresh as a breeze on a hot summer's day, and he drank it in deeply. His shaft was rising under her nurturing hand. Jean-Luc knew he had to take action. /I must be in control/ He silently repeated the words as a mantra. His discipline helped him focus past the wonderful sensations of her touch. Leaning against her more firmly, he searched her mouth deliberately and slid his hands down her back to the firm buttocks. Planting his feet apart, he cupped them and brought her pelvis against his. The fastenings of her uniform came undone easily; he slipped the blouse off her shoulders, eased the trousers down her slim, muscular legs. His mouth descended to her throat, tongue lightly flickering into the hollow at the base of her neck. Urged on by her soft sigh of contentment, he continued on to her shoulders, moist breath tickling her skin. She held still now under his tender ministrations, only her hands exerting pressure on his hips to keep them tightly nestled against each other. He felt the throbbing of his loins fall into sync with hers, only two pieces of thin fabric between their members. Sensing his body's quick approach to climax, he pulled away a little, trying to buy some breathing time, and lowered them to the floor. "Do I please you?" he whispered against her skin. His lips strolled over her chest, lingering on each nipple until it hardened to a taut peak. "Oh... yes, my beloved. Yes..." she sighed as he skimmed fingers lightly over her thighs, teasing the inner skin. One hand flattened against her abdomen, eased its way under the elastic band to the soft curls nestling around her sex and slid cupping fingers over the hard, throbbing shaft. A delighted gasp escaped her, her hips lifting to press the cock more firmly into his hand. Slowly, he uncovered the stiffly erect organ, ran fingers over the supple surface. She moaned softly, caressing hands on his head urging him lower. He knew what she wanted and complied, his mouth traveling gradually down her body. She smiled down at him and presented the cock to his mouth, placing the head against his lips, and then he was parting them to encompass the firm length. The tender head, slightly moist with a vaguely salty fluid, slid easily over his tongue, leading the rest of her sex into his mouth until his lips were at her base. Her hands clasped the back of his head, holding him down on her, urging him on. She was pulsing under his mouth, little cries marking his triumph over her senses. It was heady to give a pleasure that he understood; he didn't have to guess what sensations she was experiencing. He imagined each liquid caress as if it were being performed on his own body, and his own sex hardened even as hers did, pumping heat through his system. He felt her shudder deeply and prepared to bring her to climax, but suddenly she was rising up, withdrawing slowly from his hold. She kissed him roughly, tongue invasive and demanding while her hands seized the collar of his uniform blouse and tore it apart easily. Her hands pressed him into the floor, his back warm against the stones, and similarly ripped away his loinguard. She seized his cock in one hand, pumping the shaft as if she intended to strip him of every last drop of juice, and took the soft sac of his sex in the other, rubbing fingers discovering his most intimate parts. Responding to the exquisitely agonizing manipulation, his whole being seemed to liquify into an erotic daze, waves of pleasure undulating through him. Then the pressure came: she lifted his hips up and positioned him over her cock, the hardness of her body hot and wet against the tender flesh as she sought entry to his body. Lying on the heated stone, his eyes fixed on the raging sun symbol in the ceiling, he found it hard to believe that this was truly happening, despite her body kneeling between his thighs, his legs circling the hard form and his buttocks resting against the hard length of her shaft. He felt her take the cock in her hand and insert it into his tight opening, and then the heat was no longer merely against him but within him, the well- lubricated head easily forcing its way past his body's resistance. And the realization of what was being done to him, that he was accepting all of it, was forced upon him by the exquistely real presence of that hardness inside his body, stretching the tight ring of muscle almost past bearing. "Masaka..!" the cry broke from his lips, urgent and demanding, and she complied, thrusting up and pulling his hips down to bring her to full penetration. Buried inside him, the cock seemed to come alive, pulsating and throbbing even though she didn't move, swelling to even greater size. The increasing pressure moved him to action; he had to relieve that deliciously painful force. Clenching the muscles in his buttocks tightly, he was rewarded with a hiss of pleasure from his queen, and he began to repeat the motion, closing himself on the hard cock over and over. Her breath came faster, faster, and now he could feel her body trembling against his own aroused manhood, which she suddenly grasped, squeezed in rhythm with his pumping. He knew she was on the verge of climax, shivered at the thought of the rushing juices that would fill him in just a moment, and started moving his body against her with a desperate hunger to make her release. "Ah, Korgano," she whispered, softly. "Only you could pleasure me so... " A cry of delight broke from her lips as he thrust himself down against her and squeezed with all his strength, and she loosed explosively, the liquid satisfaction raging through him like a torrent. It lit a fire within him, the need for his own release was a torment now, but suddenly Masaka was sated and rising from his still-hungry body. More aroused than ever, he weakly raised himself to one elbow, staring at her. Her smile was feline, smug. "You are right again, my love. The pleasure of being caught is well worth the long sleep." She stroked his cheek. "Farewell, then. Until it is time for me to capture you!" Suddenly, the golden eyes drooped shut. Taking off the mask, Data looked around in some puzzlement, his recent memory a stubborn blank. He did not recall having left the Enterprise, yet he was in a strange, primitive temple. And then he recognized the symbols around him as coming from the archive, even as he noted that the strange surroundings were reverting swiftly to the Enterprise's mundane decor. A faint groan caught his attention, and he stared at Captain Picard, stark naked, in a state of arousal that Data could not help but recognize as painful for a human male, struggling into a sitting position on a section of granite floor that was in imminent danger of dissolving beneath him. All this information was processed through Data's system with preternatural speed, which gave him time to reach forward and lift the captain in his arms as the temple vanished. The sensation of skin against skin brought it to his attention that he was also completely naked. A quick check of his internal systems revealed that he had just engaged in sex and achieved orgasm, the sensory recordings implying that the sex had been with a male. Data was surprised, as Captain Picard had never previously expressed sexual desire for him, but the circumstances did not allow for any other conclusion. /How regrettable that I do not remember the experience/ Data mused, surveying Jean-Luc's muscular body The captain's present condition indicated that he had _not_ yet achieved orgasm, and was probably suffering severe discomfort. A quick glance revealed that the room's privacy lock was engaged and that a large couch was available against the far wall. Picard was still dazed from sensory overload and had trouble focusing on his surroundings as Data carried him easily over to the soft couch and lay him upon it. Letting his body relax into the cushions, Picard slowly managed to separate himself from the Korgano role he'd been so tangled up in, struggling to quiet the hectic fever in his veins that cried for release. "Captain?" Data nudged gently. Jean-Luc managed to focus on him. "I seem to have suffered a memory loss for the several hours, so I must ask a slightly... *odd* question. I am correct in assuming that we have been engaging in sexual intercourse?" he asked. "Ahhh, er, actually... well, yes, Data," Picard forced out, torn between his instinctive embarrassment at the whole situation and his desperate need for the release of an orgasm. It took all his self- control not to beg Data to finish what Masaka had started. "Hm. That _was_ my conclusion." Data tilted his head and considered the next appropriate move. "I am flattered that you have desired to have sex with me, but may I inquire why you have never mentioned this desire previously?" "Data, I should explain..." He swallowed, remembering the last few moments in Masaka's arms. "You were taken over by various personalities from the alien archive. Most recently, by the queen of that society, a being called Masaka. The only way I could communicate with her was by impersonating her, um, consort, Korgano, and, well, er... to make a long story short, I succeeded in convincing her to leave," he concluded hastily. "Ah. So you engaged in sexual intercourse with this Masaka in order to protect the Enterprise, not out of attraction to me." Data, unaccountably, felt disappointed. He decided it was regret for a lost experience. /It would have been most intriguing to be the captain's lover./ Picard blushed slightly at Data's blunt way of putting it. "Data," he said, gently, "I'm sorry--I had no right to use your body in that way, even if you were possessed, it's still your body, not Masaka's." "Captain, I do not mind." Data deliberated whether it would be appropriate to ask Captain Picard to repeat the experience. /He is certainly aroused/ he noted. "I merely regret that I do not remember the incident," he explained, wistfully. "Oh." Jean-Luc and Data stared at each other for a few moments. Searching his memory for some applicable information, Data noted that in similar situations in most human fiction, it was appropriate to engage in 'foreplay' of some sort. Rather tentatively, he leaned forward and kissed the captain. Jean-Luc closed his eyes, _knowing_ that he should put a stop to this rapidly complicating situation, but unable to quell the unreasoning pleasure spurred by the embrace. Marshalling his willpower, he gently took Data's shoulders in his hands and disengaged. "Data..." He stopped, heaved a breath. "Data, I... we shouldn't do this." Data tilted his head quizzically. "Sir, I am somewhat confused... you are clearly aroused. Your physical response to our contact," he glanced at Picard's quite erect member, "indicates that you found it enjoyable. Why, then, should we not continue?" He frowned. "Perhaps you do not feel that we know each other well enough for intimacy?" "No--no, Data." Picard smoothed a hand over his head. "I consider you a close friend, it's not that at all. But... Data, I'm your commanding officer, and the emotional complications of..." he trailed off, realizing what he was saying was totally irrelevant where Data was concerned. "Well. Maybe not the emotional complications. Data, the fact is that I don't think that we're suited for a relationship," he tried again. "But humans often engage in sex without forming any sort of permanent relationship," Data pointed out. Jean-Luc sighed. Reasonably, trying to make Data see how foolish such a suggestion was, he asked, "Data, would you like us to simply have sex this one time, then go on as if it never happened?" "Yes," came the answer. "That would certainly be acceptable." "Oh," he said weakly. "Um. Well... in that case..." He was at a loss for words. Taking silence as consent, Data moved closer, thighs brushing his, and kissed him again, less tentatively this time. It _was_ nice... especially as Data's hands moved to encircle his torso, drawing him close. And no discipline could have sufficed after the skilled hand insinuated itself between his thighs, the touch at once soothing and exacerbating the ache. He couldn't stifle a cry of mixed pleasure and pain. Sensing his need, Data proceeded to swiftly lower himself and take Picard's achingly erect cock in his mouth. Data knew every pleasure point on the male body and made sure to exploit every one within reach, stroking the sensitive hollows behind the knees, running fingers up the captain's muscled calves to gently knead the firm thighs and buttocks, all the while sucking with just the perfect amount of pull on the throbbing shaft. Pleasure was exploding through Jean-Luc's system, the nerves lighting up with the all-too-knowing caresses that clearly revealed that Data knew him better than he did. The mouth over his manhood was as satisfying as any sheath he'd ever filled, his sensitized head being gently pressured by a swallowing motion of the throat muscles and the skilled tongue rubbing over his entire length. The erotic tracery of his legs sent quivers through him, his whole body began to rock in response to Data's sensual assault. It was impossible to think, to control as the passion took him. Data recognized that Picard was very close to orgasm, but needed the stimulation of penetration. He found that he was very eager to experience the sensation of being entered himself... while he had no _feelings_, he did enjoy new experiences, and he had never fully explored sex. The act of making love to another man was intensely different from pleasuring a woman, and that it was the Captain, the man he most admired, made the experience even more... interesting. Drawing his mouth slowly over the cock, Data shifted up again, lying body against body with Picard, holding the captain in his arms and kissing him deeply, tongue probing. Data's cock, already hard again, bounced lightly against his genitals, teasing the sensitive, tender skin between his thighs. Picard ground his hips against the other's, and when that proved not to satisfy, reached down and grasped Data's shaft, started rubbing his own cock with the lubricated length. The kisses were searching his mouth, invading him with consummate skill, and then a hand was warm against his buttocks, a single finger gently invading him from the opposite end. The triangle of pleasure was bringing him to the edge-- thrusting himself between Data's thighs while still stimulating himself with the firm cock, Jean-Luc slid a hand behind Data's head, held him close, their mouths tangled together, and savored the currents of excitement running through his body. "Captain," Data murmured softly, licking Picard's lips delicately, "I... I would like you inside me," he requested tentatively, unsure how to phrase his desire. The suggestion instantly inflamed Picard; he suddenly had to be inside the tight male channel and possess it. "Data," Jean-Luc groaned against his mouth. "Oh, yes, please..." He impatiently waited the few instants as Data rolled onto his stomach and presented a perfectly smooth and firm backside to his view. Eagerly mounting him, Jean-Luc poised his hard shaft at the opening and entered with deliberate slowness, enjoying the sensation of being enveloped as each centimeter of his length made its way past the tight portal into the hot, slick depths until he was encased in Data's body. He worked his hips, thrusting and grinding against the deliciously tight buttocks that were contracting on him in a way that made his own earlier endeavors pale by comparison. The penetration was setting off a wild flurry of sensors in his frame as the captain moved against him. Data let a subroutine take over his muscle control and concentrated on sorting out the intense flood of perceptions traveling down his pathways; the stimulation, so unlike any previous experience, awoke sensations he had no words to describe. His body automatically began rocking in sync with Picard's, his penis rubbing against the smooth cushiony fabric of the couch in a subtle and tantalizing counterpoint to the marked rhythm of the body above his. The tempo of the contractions increased, muscles rippling around his shaft with precise control, matching the urgent thrusting. And a single contraction suddenly caught Jean-Luc at deepest penetration, the wave of pressure moving over his cock from head to base... the world literally faded with the pleasure; his eyes blacked out with the rush as his body bucked against Data's and released him from the iron grip of arousal into the warm clasp of an orgasmic rush. Spent, he lay trembling on top of Data, who gave a strangely satisfied sigh and deftly rearranged their bodies so he was clasping Picard in his arms. Entangled with him, Jean-Luc felt exhaustion creep over him and let his body relax into sleep. The captain's rhythmic breathing told Data he'd drifted off. Wondering at the intense sensations that his mind was still attempting to process, he let his hands lightly stroke over Picard's body, careful not to wake him. He knew that even if Jean-Luc, like Tasha, never acknowledged their encounter again, it was still an experience he would always value. *** The End! >whew!< this is about twice as long as I had planned, partially because I saw "Eye of the Beholder" and got so annoyed with the writers I had to stick in a Worf-Troi scene. :P Hope you all liked it. I think I'm going to go get some sleep now. And join us next time on TNS when we hear Doctor Crusher say, "Open wide, Jean-Luc!"