Series: TOS; Rating: NC-17; Codes: K/C

Summary: Kirk has a stimulating conversation and a disturbing dream. Sequel to "Encounter on Mount Olympus".

Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to the exalted gods of Paramount, and may they have mercy upon this poor mortal soul who is only coming here to worship.

Acknowledgments: For inspiration and beta reading, I would like to thank Jungle Kitty, Professor of Kirkology, and Karmen Ghia, co-founder and Secretary of the Committee of Chekov Obsessives Comparing Historical and New Narratives in Ensign Literature (COCO CHANNEL).

* * * *

It had been a long, hard day on the bridge, but everything had worked out in the end, and Kirk was happy to sit down and have dinner in the mess with Spock and McCoy.

"Chekov seems a little on the edge," the doctor observed.

"You think so?" Kirk took a bite of his bread. "I thought he was a bit tense this morning, but he seemed to be able to concentrate while on the Bridge."

"He is a young man," Spock noted. "Even if he is both talented and mindful of his duties, perhaps he was assigned to Bridge duty too early."

"Nah, he's a fast learner," McCoy commented. "He'll be all right."

The captain's eyes lit up. "Young Chekov seems to have an inbred hunger for knowledge -- any kind of knowledge. I've trusted him with some of my old books, and he devours them like a kid in a candy store."

"Really? What kind of books?" McCoy had already finished his meal and was in a talkative mood.

"Right now, he's reading an old book about Greek mythology that I read from cover to cover when I was eleven or twelve. Which I find unbelievable now, because it's an incredibly dry and boring piece."

"Those old myths are fascinating enough in themselves." McCoy winked at Spock. "Sorry to steal your favorite word, but you'll find'em fascinating, too. Make Jim lend that book to you when Chekov's finished."

"Doctor." Spock's face was entirely devoid of expression, as always when he was teasing McCoy. "I can see the value of studying a planet's actual history, but I fail to see the logic in learning about the fantasies and misconceptions of past generations."

"Haven't you learned anything, Spock?" The doctor smiled amiably despite his harsh words. "If you're going to work with us illogical humans, you'd better learn about how we function. What makes us tick."

"The human heart, oddly placed as it is, produces the only ticking sound in your bodies -- "

"It's a metaphor. A word from the old Greeks, by the way." McCoy leaned forward with growing enthusiasm, preparing to make a lecture on a subject he hadn't discussed in many years.

"The Greek gods were archetypes. Symbols, cliches if you like, corresponding to personality types -- or personality traits, since we're all really a mixture of their characteristics."

McCoy put his hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Jim, here, is a fine example of the Zeus character."

Something stuck in Kirk's throat and he had to cough several times before he could voice his protest. "If I'm showing delusions of grandeur, Bones, you should relieve me of duty before I do any real damage."

McCoy just went on with his lecture. "The Zeus type of male is in charge. He commands his family, his starship or the universe with confidence and ease. He is a man of decisive action and natural authority." 'And he's a notorious philanderer', McCoy thought to himself, 'but we don't want to go into that just now.'

Kirk grimaced a little in order to hide that he didn't really mind being compared to a Greek god and would like to hear a little more.

"On the other hand," McCoy said, you also display some Hermes characteristics.

Kirk silently preferred not to be cast in a subordinate role, but still, this was getting interesting. "You mean, someone who is constantly moving between the worlds, gathering information, trying to facilitate communication?"

"Wheeling and dealing, lying and thieving", McCoy politely added. "Yeah, I'd say you have a touch of the messenger god, too. That Corbomite maneuever was pure Hermes." 'And you look like Apollo, but you're much too aware of that already.'

The doctor looked across the table at Spock with a wicked smile. "With that lyre of yours, you could be a pointy-eared Apollo."

"Not an entirely preposterous remark, doctor", Spock commented dryly. "I understand Apollo was identified with the principle of logic and clarity, as opposed to Dionysus, who was associated with unbridled emotion, drunkenness and general chaos." He stared down McCoy with the sharpness of an archer eyeing his target.

Kirk burst out laughing. "You didn't expect that one, Bones. Never underestimate the knowledge of a Vulcan."

Kirk swallowed some brown rice and added: "Vulcan. That was another name for Hephaestus, the lame smith-god. It's so many years since I read that book, and now it's all coming back to me."

McCoy nodded. "A skillful craftsman, Hephaestus. The Chief Engineer of Mount Olympus, if you like. Scotty would fit the picture -- if he was only a little more ugly."

This was a fun game, Kirk thought. "And to think that the ugly Hephaestus married the lovely Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. Where d'you suppose Scotty has her hidden away?"

Spock was beginning to appreciate the game, too. There was a neat, logical pattern in this exercise of matching deities to officers. As serious as if they were discussing warp technology, he began: "Lieutenant Uhura has unusually symmetric features, quite aesthetically pleasing -- "

McCoy's eyes widened. "Spock! I can't believe your ears -- I mean, mine. You're saying you think Uhura's pretty?"

Kirk rescued Spock from the embarrassment: "I think Uhura's more of an Athena, actually. Concentrated, analytic, intelligent ... "

"Naw, she's swift, bold and beautiful like hunting Artemis", McCoy argued.

"She's a fighter all right", Kirk agreed. "But Athena is the goddess of both war and wisdom. A strategist, unlike her hot-headed male counterpart Ares."

"I hope we don't have any Ares-types on this ship", McCoy said. "He'd fire the phaser banks first and ask the questions later."

"I haven't seen that kind of behaviour since Sulu was affected by that virus and attacked everybody with a rapier", Kirk chuckled.

McCoy shook his head in amused disbelief at the memory of the effects of the Psi 2000 virus. "I still can't believe Sulu had that swashbuckling maniac inside him. He usually seems more like a serene, smiling Buddha. He lacks the belly, though."

Spock rose. "Fascinating as this discussion may be, I have work waiting in the lab. Captain ... Doctor." He nodded and left.

There was a moment of silence as Kirk and McCoy watched him go. "On second thought, he'd make an interesting Hades", McCoy said slowly. "Dark, somber, seclusive, secretive."

Kirk nodded thoughtfully. "But his chosen Persephone refused to step into his chariot."

"I know at least one person in my department who'd be happy to assume that role", McCoy mused.

Kirk brightened. "If Spock can be Hades, then I'll agree to play his brother Zeus. And you can be the third brother, Poseidon!" He laughed at the image of this divine triumvirate.

"Poseidon?! I'm a doctor, not a diver!" McCoy objected.

Kirk finished the last of his dinner. "Well, you're a sea of emotions. You're the one with the temperament, like the vindictive god who chased poor Odysseus all around the Mediterranean Sea."

McCoy chose not to comment. "Do you want coffee?"

"No, I'm just going back to my quarters to catch up with some reports."

They left the mess and strolled down the corridor. McCoy was still enjoying the possibilities to impose ancient myths on his colleagues. "Who's left? I know, we haven't given young Chekov a Greek god to play."

Kirk smiled, remembering. "That's been taken care of. This morning, I told him he reminded me of Ganymede."

The doctor's pleasant mood vapored. He stopped in his tracks, staring into Kirk's uncomprehending eyes. "You didn't!"

Kirk frowned at McCoy's shocked expression. "What's wrong?"

'Of all the thick-headed ... ' McCoy thought, but calmed himself enough to explain. "Don't you remember who Ganymede was?"

"Of course. He was the gods' cup bearer. He was a pretty young man, and I guess that's why I thought of Chekov as the Ganymede of the Bridge." Kirk shrugged, wondering why the doctor still looked so upset.

McCoy finally resumed walking. "He wasn't just pretty young, he was young and pretty. Ganymede was a young, pretty, mortal boy who was abducted by Zeus."

They stepped into the turbolift while the doctor continued: "It's true that he served drinks on Olympus in the daytime, but he spent the nights in Zeus' bed."

McCoy looked at the captain, who was just beginning to realize the meaning of his words. "You must have a pretty selective memory, Jim, or the writer of that book skipped all the juicy details."

Kirk was horrified. "So when I told Chekov that he reminded me of Ganymede ... "

" ... you were saying that he'd make a fine little boy toy. And since you yourself hold the position of Zeus on this ship ... "

"Oh my god."

" ... I wouldn't be surprised if he thought he heard you say 'bend over, sweet cheeks'." McCoy looked at his friend with a sardonic grin.

Kirk winced. "I don't even want to know where a Southern gentleman learned an expression like that."

They left the turbolift. McCoy was silent for a moment, but then he continued, quite seriously: "What're you gonna do about it, Jim?"

Kirk thought about it for 2.5 seconds. "Nothing, unless Chekov brings it up. If I approached him just to say, 'Ensign, I want to make it perfectly clear that I don't expect you to bend over', I'd only make things worse." He shook his head. "Believe me, Bones, I thought that remark was completely innocent."

They had stopped outside Kirk's quarters. McCoy was still serious. "And you're sure it wasn't your subconscious talking?"

"Are you out of ... " Kirk braced himself. McCoy was only trying to help. "On my honor, I've never even thought of ensign Chekov in that way, and if I ever did, I would never act upon those thoughts."

"That's what I thought, Jim." McCoy gave Kirk his warm smile.

Kirk's face softened, too, and he put his hand on McCoy's shoulder. "I've changed my mind. You don't belong with the gods on Mount Olympus at all."

McCoy made a face, pretending to feel insulted. "Is that so?"

Kirk grinned broadly. "Because you're much too human."

McCoy squeezed Kirk's shoulder in return, said good night and turned to leave.

"Hey, Bones -- "

McCoy turned back.

"If I'm Zeus, then where is my jealous wife, Hera?" Kirk asked, somewhat triumphantly.

McCoy smiled again, a little sadly this time. "Don't tell me you don't know the answer."

The ship's engines appeared to hum just a little louder in the silence that followed, and Kirk knew exactly what McCoy meant.

Kirk spent the rest of the evening in his cabin, immersed in paperwork. Not until he went to bed, his thoughts returned to the dinner conversation.

'I hope Bones is wrong,' he thought. 'If Chekov thinks I'm after him -- no, he couldn't possibly believe that. He's not that stupid.'

And with that reassuring thought in his mind, the captain drifted off to sleep.

* * *

White marble. White marble and blue sky. White marble, blue sky and golden sculptures. And here and there, greenery -- vines, flowers, the occasional palm tree. It was a place of luxury and beauty.

Beauty surrounded him. Even his companions in flowing robes were beautiful. He was sitting on a marble terrace, admiring the view, sipping a delicious wine from a golden goblet.

'A man could get used to this', Kirk thought.

His goblet was refilled and he curiously looked up at the young man bringing the wine. The youth looked familiar. Big dark eyes, silky brown hair, a shy smile: "Is everything to your satisfaction, my lord?"

Kirk found himself nodding benignly. "What is your name again, young one?"

"Ganymede, my lord." There was a hint of disappointment in the cup bearer's voice, but he continued making his rounds with the wine.

Kirk watched a magnificent sunset and then rose from his equally magnificent chair. He walked through the palace, noting the artwork, enjoying the music that seemed to generate from the air itself. Suddenly, he was alone in a big chamber. A bed chamber? Maybe. There was a bed, a big, majestic one at that, but there were also other pieces of furniture that he couldn't immediately identify.

Just as suddenly, he wasn't alone anymore.

Young Ganymede was standing beside him with an oil lamp. This made no sense, since the walls in the mysterious room glowed with a soft, warm light from an unknown source, but the light from the lamp was flattering to the youth's features and reflected in his eyes in an interesting way.

"You required my presence, my lord." Ganymede lowered his eyes.

Kirk took the oil lamp from the slightly trembling youth and placed it on a table. "Yes."

Kirk found himself removing the young man's short, white tunic. He revealed a smooth chest, in accord with the fashion in ancient Greece. His fingertips soon learned that the white, youthful skin was exactly as smooth as it looked.

Ganymede's nipples hardened under the exploring touch. Kirk effortlessly lifted the young man and placed him on a conveniently placed table. A very strange table. It was padded, as if meant to be comfortable if one was to lie down on it. Just as Ganymede was doing now.

Kirk touched a pink nipple again and was delighted to hear the sharp intake of breath. He pinched it and watched the young man squirm. Fascinated, he let his fingers play with both nipples for a prolonged time and studied the effect on Ganymede's flushed face.

"Can you achieve climax this way, Ganymede?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I -- don't -- know, my lord," gasped the object of his attention.

"Do you wish to find out?"

"No, my lord." His breathing was shallow, as if he was in pain.

Kirk decided to stop tormenting him and proceeded to stroke the muscular legs. Again, the skin turned out to be soft as silk, especially on the inner thighs. When he bent down and let the tip of his tongue touch the firm flesh, his plaything grasped the sides of the table.

"Are you afraid you might fall off, pretty one?" Kirk smiled.

The young man's eyes widened at the smile. "I'm not afraid to fall into your arms, my lord."

Kirk's heart swelled at this open adoration. He cradled the brown-haired head in his hands and gently kissed the soft lips. This only teased his appetite and he deepened the kiss, allowing it to change from exploring to demanding to almost brutal.

Knowing that this exquisite creature was his plaything, his to command and enjoy in whatever fashion he could envision, was extremely arousing. It also felt strangely wrong -- he couldn't remember why -- but that only made it more exciting.

He broke the kiss and looked carefully into Ganymede's face while he let his right hand slowly wander up the young man's thighs again. When he cupped the stirring genitals, Ganymede closed his eyes in ecstasy.

"Look at me", Kirk commanded. It was little more than a whisper, but Ganymede's eyes opened as quickly as if he'd been shouted at. Kirk smiled again, approvingly. "Better."

Ganymede seemed to melt a little more each time he was rewarded with a smile from his master. But he shivered, with parted lips, as he was slowly caressed between his legs. Kirk was stroking, weighing, gently squeezing the tightening sac, then idly measuring, brushing, lightly pinching the rosy cock, making it swell and grow and harden with each accelerated heartbeat.

Kirk held the brown gaze steadily, even as drops of sweat formed on Ganymede's forehead and his squirming intensified. When he took the young man's erection in a firm grip and began stroking it infinitely slowly, the pretty face beneath him contorted in something like pain. "My lord ... please!"

Kirk lifted the almost sobbing youth down from the strange table and ushered him towards another, even stranger looking piece of furniture. He positioned the naked Ganymede facing the small, but rather high, desk-like item and caressed the creamy, perfectly rounded buttocks.

* * *

Kirk was gasping for air and fighting for consciousness in his bunk. 'No -- this is wrong. Wrong! Don't even -- think it!'

But sleep claimed him again as he heard another voice, a soothing, seductive, hypnotic voice -- his own, he realized with dismay. 'It's just a dream. There's no harm. Who will know? Just a dream ... '

He was back in his palace of white marble, caressing his young lover and baring his teeth in a grin as he heard himself say, "Bend over, sweet cheeks."

* * *

The young man leaned over the table without hesitation. When Kirk saw Ganymede voluntarily spreading his legs, he felt his own cock swell with lust and pride. This had to be right; this was only what was expected of him.

Kirk reached for a vase and hardly even noticed the erotic paintings on it. He dipped his fingers in the aromatic olive oil. So rich and smooth. He applied it to Ganymede's youthful skin. A very good combination. He rubbed the oil all over the young man's curving behind, but couldn't stop himself and proceeded with his stomach, chest, thighs and groin. Kirk enjoyed this almost as much as Ganymede himself, who was writhing and moaning under his hands.

Kirk placed himself against the young body, reveling in the slippery sensation. He pushed his impatient cock between Ganymede's well-oiled thighs.

"Ganymede," he rasped.

"My lord." Little more than a breathless whisper.

"Do you want me inside you?" His mind was already very firmly made up, but he wanted to hear the young man say it.

"Yes -- yes, my lord. Please take me, I am yours."

Kirk grunted happily at these well chosen words. "Then prepare me."

Ganymede turned around quickly and poured a generous amount of oil into his hand. He sank to his knees in adoration as he anointed the impressive phallus before him. He used both his hands skillfully, until his master groaned, "Enough."

The young man tried to turn back but Kirk stopped him. "I have changed my mind."

Kirk lifted his young servant again and placed him on his back on the table. The height was perfect, as if the table had been made for the purpose of fucking servant-boys -- as indeed it had, he realized. This entire room was designed only for the pleasures of the flesh.

And now the owner was home, and he was going to take his pleasure. Kirk firmly gripped Ganymede's thighs, pressing the young man's knees a little towards his chest, to achive the best angle for penetration. Breathing heavily but still controlled, he centered the head of his glistening cock to the tight opening. Ganymede's mouth opened in silent surrender, and Kirk pressed forward. Slowly, he slid all the way in.

* * *

Urgently rubbing against his defenseless bedclothes, Kirk came and came and came and then he was awake.

He lay panting for a while, enjoying the heaviness in his relaxed limbs. Then he remembered the dream that had preceded this state of tranquility -- and was less than happy about it.

It was almost time to get up anyway, so he showered, dressed, and threw the sheets into the recycler and out of his life. 'That's what happens when you have a lively conversation with Bones,' he told himself. 'We were talking about the Ganymede myth, so I dreamed about it, and that's all there is to it. I cast myself as Zeus, which probably proves Bones is right, and poor Chekov as Ganymede, which grew out of a stupid mistake and means absolutely nothing.'

It wasn't as if it was the first time he had erotic dreams about partners he would never even consider in a conscious state. His unconscious had treated him to dream lovers of Vulcan, Klingon, Orion and Andorian origin. He could even vaguely recall a dream involving the mother Horta -- no, he didn't even want to remember. 'I'm a lover, not a geologist, as Bones would have said,' he chuckled to himself.

'The human psyche works in strange and mysterious ways,' Kirk decided, 'and dreams have very little to do with reality.' He had just dismissed the dream and started to think about breakfast when the door chimed.

Kirk admitted the visitor, who turned out to be a radiant Chekov. "I've finished your book, sir. Thank you very much for lending it to me, it was most interesting." Chekov pronounced the words carefully, as usual, and seemed considerably less tense than the previous morning.

Kirk accepted the book and thanked the ensign, politely but a little formally. Chekov looked as if he waited for something, but then mumbled a "thank you, sir" and turned to go.

Just before the doors were going to close, however, Chekov turned around again and declared:

"I think you would make a great Zeus, sir."

He flashed a bright smile at his captain and headed for the turbolift. Kirk remained at his door, trying not to look at that firm little behind.

It was going to be another long, hard day on the Bridge.

THE END