A bit of nothing, and mighty purple it is.
BTW, If you don't know what a camera obscura is, here's a fun link: http://nitro.westphila.net/
But you don't really need it to understand the story.
TITLE: "Camera Obscura"
AUTHOR: The Enigmatic Big Miss Sunbeam
PAIRING: K/Madame Guinan, K/m
Warning: Rough non-consens (slightly).
DISCLAIMER: The original versions of all the characters in this story belong to Paramount/Viacom. This is just some strictly-not-for-profit fan fun.
And it started the way it always starts.
"Did my father send you?" she said to the cowboy holding her elbow and escorting her past the gathered roughnecks in San Francisco's saloon district.
"Why, no," he said, mystified.
Obviously, he was just helping a maiden in distress. Just a real gent, protecting a lady from the rude catcalls of the assembled vulgars.
Well, too bad for him.
Too bad he was born the way he was, lush and perfect, round and ready.
Too bad she had no choice in what she had to do.
And, choice or no choice, the world would wag on.
"Ma'am, I forgot my upbringing. My name is J.T. Kirk. J for James, but I don't like telling what the 'T' is for. It's a mighty fancypants name."
*Tiberius.* She easily intercepted the thought. *Tiberius.*
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kirk. I am Madame Guinan."
"Madame Guinan?" He tipped that wide cowboy hat and then carefully replaced it. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
A soft rain was falling.
"Madam Guinan, I wish there was a decent place to sit out the rain for a lady like yourself."
"There's a livery stable over there. Perhaps you could engage me a cab."
And so he did but then he didn't like the criminal-looking cab driver and so he had to ride with her all the way to the marble steps of the St. Peterburg Hotel and that was when she put her gloved hand on his plaid-sleeved arm and said, "Thank you, Mr. Kirk."
And then he said, just as he was supposed to, "I don't like thinking I might not see you ever again. I know I'm just a plain old cowhand and don't have much to offer, but, if I can, I'd like to come calling tomorrow."
It had nothing to do with her.
His fragrance was like salt and violets.
"In the afternoons, I always take a stroll in Huntington Park and feed the geese at Carefree Pond. Perhaps I will see you then, Mr. Kirk. If the rain stops."
"I like the rain."
"So do I."
He rented a little boat so he could row her around Carefree Pond.
He piloted the little boat expertly.
"Mr. Kirk, I wouldn't think you'd know what to do on the water. To me, you are a being of deserts and mountains."
"I lived with the Indians for a while. They know the water."
That was the most interesting thing he had yet said.
"I too lived there," she told him. "It toughened me. As it did you. Clearly."
"The Indians know how to live."
Then as he rowed some more, they talked of Indian life.
She knew they were a striking pair, his flesh so pink, hers so dark, her face so strong, his so soft.
(That pretty little Slav named Chekhov. His naked body had been shiny with dried blood. The elegant outlaw they called McCoy, with his side irons, his cold blue eyes, his whiskey drawl. And Montgomery, the feckless Scotsman from the iron works. Had they returned to their quiet lives with a new knowledge? Or had Spock broken them in and taken them home to Mystery Isle? Or were their bodies abandoned in the unstill earth? And now it was Kirk's turn.)
He was rowing and he looked up and something caught his attention.
She looked in the same direction.
A green-eyed snake was effortlessly riding the water.
"Look at that! I never saw nothing like that in all my born days."
All his born days.
He leaned over to see the snake better and something caught him off balance and she leaned over to balance him and then they both were in the water flapping and panting.
"My skirts are too heavy," she gasped. She could barely keep her face on top of the water.
"Hold on the boat and I'll row it a bit closer to shore. You are safe with me." Awkwardly he climbed back in the boat and she caught hold of its prow and, when they were by the shore, he jumped out and carried her the rest of the way.
"No, I'll only drag you down."
"Madame, I couldn't let anything happen to you on my watch," he panted as he let her down on the ground. "Are you all right? I'm mighty sorry about this."
Her garments were soaking wet, as were his. Their eyes met.
"We may have to open a new Garden of Eden," she said. "I'm going to take off some of my outer garments and let them dry on those bushes."
"Me too," he said; his voice was ragged.
She gave him a small slow smile. "I'll go behind this bush. You can go over there."
His face was pink and he was looking down; he could only nod his head.
When she came back out, she had taken off most of her clothing; she was wearing only her corset, her corset cover, and her long underskirt with nothing underneath but her silk stockings.
He was wearing his flannel shirt as a sort of apron; otherwise, he was completely naked.
They could not take their eyes off each other.
"Madame Guinan, I can still get dressed and go get us some help."
There was a gentle magnificence to his body; his flesh was rosy pink, his hair and eyes golden.
She did not want him to go anywhere else.
"It's so warm today," she said. "Our clothes will be dry soon enough. If you can fetch the picnic basket from our boat, we can just sit here and talk."
She watched him walk down to the water. He had a rapid, proud walk, and his body was as curvy as a woman's.
Everything in the picnic basket was ruined except for a bottle of champagne the hotel had packed. He opened the champagne and poured it into the sturdy hotel glasses. "We really must be in the
garden of Eden," he said; then he made a toasting motion. "Here's to the snake."
They sipped their champagne.
Somewhere thunder sounded. "A peculiar Eden," she told him. She always knew what Spock wanted because she knew what she wanted. And now she wanted Kirk badly.
The sky opened.
Quickly, he took her arm and helped her to her feet - "Let's go that little thicket of trees over there."
The thicket smelled of pine. Her heart was racing; the pulsing rain on her skin was the same as the pulse of her blood. He had let go of her arm, so she now put her hand on his arm. He was thinking of intertwined black and gold, of a combined thunder and pulse.
She leaned over and their wide mouths met.
And she was suddenly on the forest floor and his hand was pulling up her skirt. Then he leaned back to see her better. Those white silk stockings against her dark flesh, the glossy black triangle at the base of her body. He moved his hands between her thighs and touched her there. They both gasped.
"Madame, I don't want to hurt you."
"Kirk, the rain has driven everyone but us inside. So we might as well take advantage of this turn of events."
And he rolled between her legs and she felt his cock against her and she opened her legs a little and he was halfway in and she moved a little more and they began to move together.
He was a strong considerate lover; she wound her legs around his back to take more of him in and he groaned.
"Nononono, my love." And then he stiffened and he was pouring, pulsing into her, and she was thrusting back against him and the sky had opened and she was warm as the earth, warmer really.
She felt like singing.
He pulled away and lay on his back. "Should I be sorry? That was so wonderful," he said.
"Don't be sorry."
"We are lovers," he said and he was not telling a complete lie.
"Have you ever had a black woman?"
He smiled at her and kissed her hand.
Uhura. The name came quickly into her mind. And Kirk had loved her.
"Madame Guinan, you're not a . . . type to me. You are yourself. I won't answer that question."
She could not permit him to meet her in his hotel room, so, for a week, they met in the park or in a private dining room at another hotel and once even in a closed carriage.
"Mr. Kirk, tomorrow we have been invited to have dinner with my protector, Professor Spock."
His eyes grew dark. "Your protector. You aren't telling me you're married, are you?"
"Spock would be the last person in the universe I would marry," she said with an almost Biblical certainty.
"Herr Professor, let me present James T. Kirk. Mr. Kirk, Professor Spock." She did not look at either of them, but she felt the spin of Spock's blood.
Kirk had put on a new starched white shirt and a string tie, and he had slicked his hair down with water. Otherwise, he was still a rough cowboy.
"Mr. Kirk," Spock said in his cool tones.
"Howdy," Kirk said.
Dinner was awkward. Kirk was not used to surroundings as elegant as Spock's townhouse. He kept rubbing at his tight starched collar.
The food was delicious, well-cooked.
"Professor Spock, I keep waiting for the meat course. Surely a chef that cooks this good has got a nice juicy porterhouse out there in the kitchen."
"I do not dine on flesh. It is unhealthy. Have some more oyster root."
When the meal was finished and the maids had gracefully removed the last few dishes, Spock stood up. "After dinner, we always have a special treat, don't we, Madame Guinan?"
He walked to a set of double doors and opened them. "It is in here." He inclined his head to allow her to enter first.
It was an airy room, dark, vast, with strange lights flickering on the walls.
"This is my camera obscura. Through the modern magic of science, it allows me to roam outside as I stay in. Even to visit other worlds. Madame Guinan often comes here with me and we peruse the galaxies together."
Kirk was very alert.
"Behold!" Spock said and drew the velvet wall curtain.
On the wall, fantastical shapes resolved themselves into lit city streets.
Spock walked over to a large crank and began to turn it. The scenes changed from city streets to lush trees.
"What do we see here?"
She knew what was coming and yet she still was surprised at Spock's cunning. He kept turning the crank.
The camera obscura was like a pacing eye. It began to focus on a little group of trees.
"I am feel as if I'm riding a cloud," Kirk said wonderingly.
Spock looked at him coldly. "Yes, and cloud riders see many interesting things. I direct your attention to the very center of the *camera*."
She looked away. She knew what Kirk was seeing by the change in his breathing, by the way she felt his heart speed up. "How could you . . . that's impossible . . . my God, man!"
"You touched her," Spock said matter-of-factly. "She is mine to protect from the likes of you and you touched her." He clapped once, and a small group of men charged through a hidden doorway. "We must punish this man. He has committed the ultimate sin."
The first one in, Jarok, fox-eyed with a slow smile, said, "Get him in ropes." He voice was grainy, self-satisfied.
Did she want to see this? She had seen it before, and each time it happened she had less stomach for it. Yet it was always strangely tonic to see a brightskinned naked boy suspended from the beams, to see Spock signal to his men to help him with his garments, and then to see Spock take the boy again and again until everyone in the room was damp and shuddering. Like a great brutish dance.
Then they stripped Kirk and tied him up; his eyes flew around the room in panic.
Pardek and Tuvok removed Spock's clothing and brought him a dark robe.
Spock was watching her during this, reading her.
Well, he was right. Who wouldn't want to see this? Spock's hot skin was made for love as was Kirk's lush body.
And because she knew Spock's thoughts and wants, what he sensed was naked to her, as if projected on the walls of her skull. The initial plunge of Spock's warm probing flesh into the satin sea of Kirk's body, and then the pounding like the sea against on a boat in a black storm, the sighing sounds Spock made, his slanted eyes now closed to block out anything but the mounting sensations.
She heard Spock grunt; his body was thudding again and again against the suspended Kirk. As Kirk writhed and sobbed, his cock stood out from his body; it was hard, wet at the tip, leaking. He made motions against the air as if seeking release.
Then the final fury was on Spock. The sounds he made were not sounds of this earth. He was completely in her mind, a winding purple silk against her glistening flesh, against Kirk's too -- their bodies were outlined with shuddering coronas of golden air.
It was as if lightning had escaped into her skull. Then Spock made one last great gasping call. Sensations rippled all around her body.
A vampire sinking himself into his lost bride.
A monster ripping down the castle walls for the maiden.
A skull-faced baron applauding a gypsy's last dance.
When she came to, it was bright morning and she was lying in one of the guest bedrooms.
Her skin could feel something like a great beast pacing in the chambers below.
It was Spock she felt.
He was alone in the camera obscura. Anyone without her gifts would not have noticed the change in him. They would not notice the way his dark blood flooded his heart and throat, the narrowing of his eyes, his accelerated breathing.
"Mind your thoughts, Guinan."
"What did you do to him?"
He looked around the dimly lit room. It was superheated like the inside of a man's body. "I did what I wanted to do. Then I threw him to the others."
The others from Mystery Island: Tebok, Pardek, Tuvok,and the wily Jarok.
Spock gave her a keen look. "Yes, the wily Jarok. No one quite like him when his blood is up. When they'd had their regular fun, I gave new orders. They suspended him from a beam and used their fists. After the first hour, we tired of his incessant shrieking and we gagged him. His wrists were bleeding from the tightness of his bonds, and he was pinioned one way or another all night long. It was the most pleasurable encounter I have yet experienced. A good choice, Madame." He drew a deep breath. "And yet it is the worst I have felt. I cannot stay away form him. He invades my thoughts - my very thoughts - as I sleep."
"May I see him?"
Upstairs, Kirk lay on his stomach. He was pale from loss of blood. He saw her. Unbelievably, he didn't blame her. "They used me like a woman."
She didn't have a lot to say to that.
"They hurt me and I bled."
"Kirk, the world could be much worse."
Surely this latest craze of Spock's would be appeased soon and she would be allowed to move on.
"What will happen to me tonight?"
She lifted her head and tasted the air. "The same thing, I suppose. Spock must be served."
"No!" he cried. "Save me."
"Save me," she whispered and his eyes closed and she left the room.
That night they were a little gentler on Kirk. Spock brought in an elaborate iron chair covered with horsehide. The chair could be tilted back to a number of angles. Then he opened his spangled robe.
The other men brought the trembling Kirk over to Spock, who ran his pale hand up and down Kirk's body. Despite his fear, Kirk was clearly aroused, as was Spock. "Place him on me. All the way. Up to the hilt," Spock said and leaned back in his chair.
She was sitting in an small alcove watching. A few times before, as Spock did something like this, one of the men from Mystery Isle would come over and gallantly escort her to a nearby sofa and make love to her as Spock had his way with his victim.
Tebok was her favorite, and that was who came to her tonight. He was insane and so he had no guilt or memory; in Tebok's arms, there was only the ever-shifting liquid now and it helped her not to think.
As Tebok grimaced and drove into her, she watched Spock enter Kirk again and again. Kirk's eyes were closed and he seemed unconscious. Spock was biting as his neck as he used him.
She could still smell the salt and violets.
The third night Kirk was naked and on his knees and he was made to use his wide girl's mouth (now bruised, now bloody in one corner) on all of Spock's assembled men.
When everyone was satisfied, they left Kirk kneeling on the ground.
She walked over to him. "I am sorry." She touched his shoulders. She felt nothing from him; his skin was like ice.
"Go away, Guinan," she hear Spock's voice in her brain. "Don't you have a job to do?"
She looked around. He was standing by the door with his arms folded. Kirk moved his shoulders so he faced Spock.
"Go away, I said."
Kirk collapsed on the floor, barely breathing.
The others came up behind Spock when they heard Kirk fall. Diffident, they clustered, waiting for Spock's orders.
Kirk looked like an angel or a minor god, plump and full of promise. He was too pale, but the bruises and bits of blood only accented the peach gloss of his flesh. Spock leaned over and touched Kirk's neck twice, touched both of his wrists, touched the top of both thighs, touched his stomach right above his nested cock.
The seven blood points.
The men behind Spock relaxed.
"I enjoy the way this one feels," Spock remarked. "Come, let us take him to his room so he can rest."
She woke. She was in her suite at the St. Petersburg and the rain was falling outside her window. She lifted her head. All she heard was the rain, no voices, no hums and murmurs.
For six days, she heard nothing in her head.
She refused to feel lost, but she was.
Fortunately, she had her arrangements.
On the sixth day, she went to her appointment; she found a boy as usual, picked him up as usual.
But she knew she wasn't herself. The newest boy made her nervous. He seemed inhuman and he appeared to know things he shouldn't know. He and the friends who awaited him would bring new troubles.
On the seventh day, she went to Spock's townhouse.
She walked into the vast front hall. And felt nothing. No tug in her mind. No dark voice compelling her to step forth.
She walked up the broad stairway; at the landing, the giant painting of the vast castellated landscape of Mystery Isle gleamed with its golden-green glaze.
She walked to the room where Kirk stayed. Her steps slowed.
The hall was as soundless as snow. For the first time in her life, she had no idea what she would see.
She had learned much of Kirk's flesh in their time together; it was so soft and tender, so easy to tear. He wasn't like her or Spock with their iron bones, their copper blood. He wouldn't last as long; he couldn't endure as much.
She opened Kirk's door. He was asleep. Spock was sitting by the side of the bed in an elaborately embroidered robe. He looked up.
"You surprised me," he said.
"You surprised me."
"That is the first time that has happened."
"Is Kirk . . .?"
"He is healing." And he touched Kirk's cheek.
The sleeping Kirk sighed.
She tried to read Spock. "I have found you another."
Spock keep looking at Kirk. "There will never be another."
"Spock, is it over between us?"
He looked at her and his mouth opened. He looked almost like a boy, or someone not in control of himself. "I don't know what you're thinking." He was exhausted. "But I am not healing him to play with him again." He looked down again at Kirk. "You know how I feel physically when the . . . fever is upon me. You and I have shared thoughts. Now I feel the same but it is deeper. Deeper in my mind, deeper in my heart."
"They call that love on this great earth."
"Ah." They were silent; her mind was silent. "Then love it is. I have surrendered. Madame Guinan, do not fear. I will do my best to see that he is unhurt for generations."
I am free, she said in her mind.
Kirk saved me.
"Do you promise me his safety?" she said out loud.
Spock lifted his head. He had forgotten she was there.
She was free, free to join the racing stars, the whirling world outside. Ir was no victory, nor was it sweet, because she was still a ceaseless shark on time's gray ocean. But the boy Kirk was safe and the voices in her head were silent.
"Yes, he is safe." Then Spock seemed to remember something. "Thank you, Guinan."
He looked at her. "I suppose I owe you a valediction after all that. Live long, Guinan. Live long, and," he seemed to be considering something. "Live long and prosper."
She nodded; then she went outside to the future.
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This was a lot more fun than I thought it would be! Before, I said 'scoffoovius' to all those challenges which involve "Kirk! Spock! And Yo' Momma!" But this was all right.
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