The Taste of The Desert Sun is a Jonathan x Imotept fanfic. It is yaoi.

Jonathan sat limply on his sister's living room sofa, bourbon bottles scattered across the floor, paper strewn around carelessly. A necklace of pure gold clutched in his hand, he sighed happily. After-all, this was his first win, in a game of poker, for a couple months. However, he thought with a frown, it appeared that he had once again found a priceless piece of the past, which happened to belong to Egypt. Really, he was sick of finding all these artifacts, for once he wanted to just settle down and stay in one place. As long as there was some form of money, he was fine, but it appeared that his family was cursed with mummies. Or perhaps it was just the combination of Eve and Rick. Well, whatever it was, it was becoming quite bothersome. Lifting the slightly heavy jewelry, he read the inscription on the back out loud (His wonderful sister had taught him some Ancient Egyptian during the past years).

"Let love call forth thy soul mate…" he laughed sarcastically, "Right, like that could happen… And hate blunt the pain, after which you shall chose the most important way." Wind flooded through the windows, bringing sand with it. Wait, sand? This was Britain, why was there sand?

"Jon don't you dare…" Rick's voice cracked from down the hall before he appeared in the entrance of the room, "We are in big, BIG, trouble." That never meant things where good, if fact, that meant the complete opposite. It meant things where very, very, bad. Scooting as far back into the chair as possible, Jonathan watched in complete and utter horror as a very familiar body formed from the wind. Sun-kissed skin, a sharp, angular, face, toned muscles, broad shoulders, and ebony eyes. Imotept! Said man opened his mouth as if to speak but screamed in agony instead, his body convulsing in the air. He was flung full force into Jonathon who gasped, his air wiped from him. The room calmed, not a speck of sand to be seen in the house. Shakily, the British man looked towards his brother-in-law and his sister, who had joined sometime during the ordeal, and smiled.

"Um, help," he squeaked. A strong hand grabbed his thigh tightly, but not uncomfortably, and pressed down. Low, pain filled, groans emitted from Imotept, his face coming up from its position on Jonathan's chest so that the two men where nose to nose. His eyes where blurred and he had to blink them a couple times before he could register the childlike face in front of him.

"You," he sighed tiredly, "why are you in my dream?"

"Erm, I decided a chap like you deserved an occasional visit," Jon chuckled nervously, his eyes darting pleadingly to his stiff family. The other man stared at him for a couple of moments, as though just realizing something.

"Warm?" he said, somewhere between a question and a fact.

"W-what?" Jon replied as he watched Imotept's other sleek hand lift up to cup his cheek, cautious, almost scared.

"You're warm…" Imotept breathed out.

"Y-you t-t-t-to," Jon hissed through his teeth, glaring in desperation at his still unmoving relatives. He jerked in surprise when a nose was shoved into his neck, hot breath washing against his already heated skin, "Ah." Really, he hadn't meant to make such a girly sound but it just felt really good. Plus the ancient Priest had a intoxicating smell of incense, sweat, and something he couldn't quite put his tongue on. Really the man was far to attractive for his own good. Not to mention deadly, he almost screamed at himself, dangerously deadly. Imotept rose from his current position, his face as blank as always, but his eyes roiling with confusion.

"A-live?" he muttered under his breath, pulling completely off Jonathan, who sighed in relief.

"EVE," he shouted, "Right now would be the time to do something!" Dashing from the couch he ran for the nearest exit, passing whoever was in the way. Shouts following behind him, he panted in one of the many hallways he had run down. Quite sure he had lost them all. A gentle hand clasped his shoulder.

"Who are you?" the deep voice with a strong accent said behind him, it had no threat to it what so ever, but he crumbled onto the floor right then and there.

"I'm going to die," he panted heavily, "I'm going to die." The same hand traveled to his throat and pulled back, so it was choking then? Yet he wasn't suffocating. The only thing he felt was a muscular chest against his back, and arms wrapped around his waist. They where strong and comforting.

"Who are you?"