Caught in a bad romance

[sharpestscalpel]

The locked console gave a gentle trilling chime and McCoy looked over at it.

It didn't make that sound very often but, from the slowly spreading smile on his face, it was evident that he appreciated when it did.

The smile only widened as he read the communication sent from Earth. He readjusted himself in his pants as he scanned the words a second time.

That red silk had felt good, confining and constricting in all the right ways. Still, he'd have to buy her something pretty to make up for it. And if she floundered around trying to explain the new panties to that impotent fuckwad dicksnot of a senator she'd married, all the better.

McCoy's fingers were swift as he typed his response.

Aw, baby, there’s no damn reason to be like that about it. And you also know if Reggie gives you any trouble I’ll cut his fucking cock off and make him eat it like sashimi.

Hell, I’ll probably do that at some goddamn point anyway for fucking marrying my wife.

Besides, I know you found it and had two fingers in that pretty pussy faster than I’d be able to get into your pants if I’d been there. Don’t pretend to me it didn’t make you wet – you act like I don’t shitting know you, woman.

Just like you know I took the blue silk with me last time. Keep it in the top drawer of my nightstand for just in case I get lonesome.

You head of the Empire yet?

-L

He chuckled as he sent it off through protected, nearly invisible channels.

Comments

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

His hands steepled, the fingertips of his index fingers resting on his chin.

"How much do you know about Vulcans? Their mental powers?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Mostly what they all knew. "They're touch telepaths. They can sense other things. They can manipulate minds--again, through touch." He thought. "You think he's got some sort of hold on Pike?"

His voice was disbelieving as he said it, unable to imagine the man he knew as captain could be so in thrall.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy's laugh was easy, sardonic.

"You could say that. They are mates."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk's furrowed brow was even more evident on his gaunt face.

"Mates," he repeated. "Like... That sounds like one of those goddamned nature vids."

[consort-regnant.livejournal.com]

McCoy's console trilled again.

To Leonard McCoy, Who Keeps on Surprising Me, After All These Years

Your boy's got balls, sugar. Or maybe not so much, anymore. Still, I do appreciate a man who's willing to try to shake things up so he can rise to the top. He's lucky he survived and can get smarter for next time – or get someone smarter for next time, to help him out. Is that you, babydoll? Are you finally getting a hankering to fulfill your own potential? Or maybe you're hoping it's me, and you're just trying to pique my interest, hm?

Either way, I borrowed Reggie's clearances and did a little looking into this blue-eyed boy's past, and I don't mind telling you he has one interesting history. And it's locked up tighter than the Empress's sex tapes. You've got yourself a new puppy, sure, but I bet you don't know what breed of dog he really is. Ask him about Tarsus IV, honey. Just for kicks.

Anyhow, color me intrigued. If you'd keep me posted, I'd be much obliged. Maybe I'd even be willing to do a voice recording next time I tell you a dirty story.

- J

P.S. Can he still get it up? Just curious. I bet it's been a while since anyone fucked you through anything. Your sweet ass has it coming.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

The console gave its gentle chime again and McCoy looked over at it before answering Kirk.

"Sounds that way - is that way from near as I can goddamn tell. Vulcans do not fuck around, Jimmy-boy. They mate for fucking life and there's this shitting mental bond. To borrow a fucking phrase, it's fascinating."

McCoy pushed up from his chair to amble over to the console. He didn't sit, just leaned over to read the latest message.

Fucking Tarsus IV. Blue's med records had a big gaping hole in them right around that time period and McCoy had been curious. Trust Jocelyn to get right to the meat of it. She was holding info back - it was typical of her but he didn't mind.

To Jocelyn McCoy, Whom It Is My Fucking Pleasure To Surprise. Among Other Things.

Baby, you know I play the long, slow game. Long being an appropriate descriptor in many goddamn ways. Think of this, maybe, as a little collaborative art project. i'd never fucking make a bid without you anyway, even though that's some shitting sentimental shit right there.

And, see, liquorlips, I knew you had a good eye for animal flesh. I'll work around to it. He's about damn due for a hormone shot, so I got a little little more leeway and leverage than I have otherwise earned.

Though he's coming along nice.

I'll keep you posted and fucking hold you to that voice recording promise.

-L

P.S. You know noone on this goddamn tincan has managed to flip my switch switch. Blue's too whipped to even look at his cock at the moment. I might have to hold him down and reintroduce him to his fucking nerve endings so he'll stop moping.

He looked back up at Kirk, casual but with intent.

"It's about fucking time for your shot."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

A mental what? Kirk contemplated this, frowning, as McCoy attended to whatever the fuck was more interesting on his terminal. So, telepathy, but without the need to touch. Had Pike taken this on willingly? It seemed like a liability. In more ways than one--there was a reason Starfleet had forbidden certain contact with Vulcans. A reason Spock had those damned gloves. But if it wasn't willing... that had its own implications.

Either way, it made certain things make more sense. Things they knew, actions Spock and Pike had taken in the aftermath. Spock disappearing, and Pike returning shortly after. They were in league, that much was plain, but the deception--the depth of it--had been utterly hidden to the likes of Kirk.

It wasn't even fucking possible those two cared for each other. No one cared that much.

But where was Pike now? Where was Spock?

When McCoy stopped tapping away, his expression warned Kirk immediately. The interest there was specific, not general. Not hostly. And his own mix of emotions at those words... They were a reminder of his condition, of McCoy's power over him, of the potential, yet unknown, he had not entirely lost. Which, no doubt, was McCoy's intent. He only had his word to go on, anyway, about what was in it.

"Okay," he said, trying to keep both wariness and any possible enthusiasm from his voice. "But this thing--you're saying they're in on it together. Everything." Spock couldn't have been cut loose. They would have had to have killed them both. Some sort of fucked up psychic marriage, or something. The thought turned Kirk's stomach.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I've watched them too long to think you could take one without the other. I was waiting for Spock."

There was a hint of disgruntled disappointment - and an oily undertond that made it clear: Spock had avoided a painful fate. McCoy wasn't angry; he had lucked the fuck out. But it still irked at him.

He retrieved a hypo from a drawer in the nightstand by his bed, adjusted it absently as he approached Kirk where he still sat on the sofa.

"Lean your head back."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

What anyone's interest in that bloodness Vulcan was was anyone's guess. Certainly not Kirk's. Maybe it was the appeal of the aloof, or the forbidden and maybe that was McCoy's interest. Just attaining it.

"Hence Uhura's part," Kirk said. His eyes never strayed from McCoy's hand or the hypo, but he tilted his head back warily. "Didn't count on some psychic bullshit. What the fuck was Pike thinking, anyway? Can't Vulcans take over your mind?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy's interest was simple: Vulcans had phenomenal bone structure.

And there was something broken in that one.

"Uhura was supposed to take him out? Bit above her league, don't you think?"

McCoy traced an inquisitive finger over the skin of Kirk's throat, frowning at the dryness of it, the premature aging making the skin too delicate.

"Vulcans'll rip your mind out and drink it with a straw. But they're fucking loyal, from what I can find. Information is a little goddamn scarce, as you might expect."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

"Not take him out so much as ascertain the risk and deal with it," he said. "Fuck, maybe she always intended I fail. Or take myself out along with Pike." His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, McCoy's touch somehow both professionally distant and disturbingly intimate at the same time. Now Kirk knew what he was looking at and it didn't make those eyes any easier to handle.

"Guess I'll fucking know next time, won't I?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Next time."

McCoy's voice was husky, intimate. He pressed the hypo to Kirk's next with more gentleness than he usually displayed. The hiss was loud in the silence between them.

"Next time you need to work with a higher caliber of collaborator."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk's skin prickled inexplicably. Inexplicable, because the fear, he expected. The fear, he was better able to control than he had been those first days. But there was something else, an additional menace that was unseen but no less visceral. He would not look away, would not show this weakness.

"Next time, I think I will," he said. He figured there was really no way to make the same mistake twice, in this instance.

[consort-regnant.livejournal.com]

In the background, McCoy's console trilled once more.

To Leonard McCoy, Whose Game is Not as Long as He Thinks it Is

It may be sentimental shit, sweetcheeks, but it's also some goddamn pragmatic thinking on your part. We've fucked each other up, over, and sideways plenty, but we always did make a good team. And you know I know my way around a coup.

I'll be eager to hear from you again, sugar. Maybe even eager in my pants.

- J

P.S. Mmm, you know that just makes me want to toggle that switch myself. Hard. You'd like that, wouldn't you?

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy's fingers lightly gripped Kirk's chin, tilted his head to expose the line of Kirk's neck even more.

"This is going to fucking bruise, we keep hitting the same spot. Pick a place that stays the hell covered up for next time."

Or McCoy would pick it for him.

He looked back toward the console.

"That'll be another note from Jocelyn."

McCoy looked from the console to the photo on his nightstand and then back to Kirk. His smile was sly.

"You like her, Blue? Think you'd have fucked her before?"

Before Pike cut off Kirk's balls and his fucking sense of sexual adventure.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk's mouth flattened into a firm line. If Kirk hadn't already been aware of McCoy's reputation--or the basic tenets of Imperial Starfleet medicine--he'd have made some mental comment about the doctor's idea of healing. As it was, he merely glared at the man, though even the tiny spark in those gas flame eyes would have trouble catching in such a ravaged landscape.

"Figure I would have," he said tightly. He hadn't picked the place--McCoy had. Just like he'd called every shot since Kirk's life had changed forever. He was not going to react to this. "You the jealous type? Or you the type to watch?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He bit back a laugh at the glare. Kirk still had some spitfire in him. McCoy had been starting to fucking wonder. He tapped the tip of Kirk's nose with his index finger, the way a particularly kindly grandmother might with a child of whom she was extremely fond - McCoy's own grandmother had been more of the type to make him pick out the switch she was going to whip him with.

Then he hauled Kirk up off the sofa by the front of the man's shirt.

"We were more of the active-participant, sharing sort of couple, Blue. But right now? You need a fucking bath."

The shove towards the bathroom was gentle enough that it wouldn't send Kirk to his knees but enough to let Kirk know: McCoy was no pussy.

"You get five minutes of water. You ain't clean at the end of that, you'll fucking lick yourself clean like a goddamn cat."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Yeah, he should have guessed that, Kirk thought as he caught himself before falling. At this point, that brat of his could probably push him around, and Kirk wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop her.

"Can't imagine why you ever split up," he shot back. It was cheap, but it felt good to saying something, even as he stumbled to the head. Five minutes? He hadn't felt water on his skin in months. Five minutes seemed like a luxury.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy laughed that open and resplendent laugh again, settling himself back at the console.

"We didn't split up so much as I went to prison and she married a couple rungs up the social ladder."

Kirk disappeared into the bathroom and McCoy focused on the new message waiting from Jos.

She was in - he'd been right to think of her, had known she would respond to the hint of possibility. That woman would never be content until she had everything in her grasp and Reggie, even that little fuckbreath, could only take her so far.

To Jocelyn McCoy, Who Could Not Walk After Our Wedding Night So I Figure It's Long E-Fucking-Nough

You got the nicest set of tits I ever did fall asleep on, butternipples, but you know I love you for your goddamn mind. Wasn't anyone else I'd go to with this.

Eager in your pants? I got a present or two that will help with that, I figure. Stay warm for me, baby.

-L

P.S. Hard is the operative word, I do fucking believe. You want to bend me over, baby? How much?

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk wasn't going to waste any time. The prospect of hot water--okay, McCoy hadn't said hot, but even he wouldn't be sadistic enough to program the thing to only give him cold, would he?--was not as tempting as solid food, but there was some indication that nothing ever would be again. And a shower was pretty up there on Kirk's short list of Things he was Pretty Sure Life Might Still Hold for Him. He had avoided thinking about much beyond the creature comforts, a sort of hierarchy of needs that had only recently moved beyond the preservation of life. And that, just barely.

He supposed it was okay, now, to get wet Down There. He shucked his clothes, not noting how he was getting stronger, more flexible, by tiny increments every day, and stepped into the shower. He wasn't going to waste one drop.

The water was cold that first instant, of course, but Kirk couldn't bring himself to care. It warmed quickly, and he sighed audibly at the sensation, ducking his head under the stream and wasting a few precious seconds just in reaquainting himself with something like pleasure. When he opened his eyes again, they lit on the little shelf which he had just assumed--not thinking about it at all--held standard Starfleet-issue soap and the like, which was not much better than dousing yourself in kerosene. But no--McCoy had a whole army of fancy-looking bottles and things, and Kirk didn't hesitate to pour some non-floral-scented liquid into his hand and start scrubbing at his hair with it. Not too vigorously, though, for fear more would fall out. But his own fingers against his scalp felt wonderful. The water hitting his back was, at his level of emaciation, almost forceful enough to be a massage, and as he tipped his head back and let the drops slide across his face he felt almost giddy. Whatever McCoy had done in here last night, it could haven't been better than this.

He avoided the poofy thing but availed himself to the other scented bottles, conditioner and soap, because they were there and he could and even this body could appreciate the process. Somehow sonics just didn't feel as clean, though technically the process was superior. And this wasn't about getting clean, after all.

After the night before, and his study of his own body in the mirror, he was both more inured to it and better able to ignore. He didn't have to look as he washed everything, even lifting his limp penis out of the way with only a twinge of regret. Not recognizing, either, that if this felt good--that if the spray, impersonal and disinterested as it was, could still delight him--then all was not lost in other sensual areas.

Luckily he got the washing and rinsing done before the flow abruptly stopped, though the let down was considerable. And without the heated water or much body fat, he was cold far too quickly. He managed to find a towel--like the shower accessories, not standard issue--and rub himself down, still reeling from the force of such a simple gift. And, towel around his waist as if he had nothing to hide above it, he opened the door. He wasn't about to put on the same clothes, not after that.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy looked up when the bathroom door opened.

Kid had found his towels and - McCoy sniffed the warm air rushing into the room from the bathroom - his shower goods as well.

"You should be able to replicate some clean fucking clothes. Those rags should go in the goddamn recycler."

Kirk's codes were still active. Spock had been in a hurry, his usual thorough erasing of identities a lesser priority than finding Pike. Or so McCoy was willing to bet.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

His wet hair hung into his eyes--it had gotten long, what was left of it--and he scraped it away as he glanced at the replicator. Wasn't like he'd had a chance at one, or a terminal, since forever.

He moved to it, dropping the aforementioned rags into the recycler as he did so, and stood in front of it for a moment.

"Who knows I'm here?" he asked. "Your staff. Anyone else?" He turned, glancing at McCoy. "I've been out of circulation. Any reason I should know of someone might be waiting for me to use my codes somewhere?"

It was quite possible no one gave a good goddamn. And that maybe would be a blessing of its own.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy's eyebrow was approving.

"No one's watching for them. Uhura's too busy to give a fuck and everyone else is scrambling for their own goddamn positions. It was never deactivated."

It was nice to have a half-naked body in his rooms. He briefly considered disabling the replicator, not allowing Kirk clothes after all. But a man had to have some dignity.

And there were plenty of ways to get him naked. All in good itme.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk watched him for a moment, as if doing his own analysis of McCoy's thinking, and then nodded. Was McCoy's skin, too, if someone was after him. He wasn't about to hand anyone the knife. By the time anyone thought to look, he thought, things might be different.

He keyed in his code, guessing at the modifications to his measurements. But it was inexact, and when they came the clothes were still slightly too big, Kirk being unable to accurately assess his own condition. But it was better than before. He did not forgo underwear, wishing to resist any chafing.

He dressed there, not turning around fully but not hiding, either. Matter-of-factly, calculated to indicate to McCoy that he wasn't cowed. That he was aware of the man's eyes on him, but he had chosen this exposure this time. However untrue it might be, it was necessary for him to reclaim some dignity. And that included intentional nudity, knowing as he did McCoy's inexplicable penchant for his wasted state. Let him look, if he liked. If he wasn't going to move on it--for whatever reason--Kirk could at least see what he had left.

When he turned, finished, he pulled at the loose fabric of his uniform. But it was better. No longer the rags of a prisoner, or the drab of a patient.

"Doesn't sound like him," he said finally. "To miss something like that."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He shrugged. In point of fucking fact, it wasn't like Spock.

Looked like even that green-blooded computer had his weak points.

"I think he had you on ice for Pike's return. Wasn't going to make a goddamn move without Pike, you see. I reckon if they'd both come back, you'd be missing your skin."