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]

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."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Thank fuck for small mercies, he thought. That weird psychic ball and chain thing must be good for something.

"Any idea where they went?" he asked. "Or what your plan is, besides keeping me on ice?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I got some clue."

Did he fucking ever.

"Enough to know they ain't coming back - so you don't need to worry about where they went."

He usually spent his days off reading or lazily threatening or... playing with the off-duty nurses.

"Right now, my only plan is to unwind on this little bit of downtime I have assured for myself."

Though he actually wasn't sure yet how Kirk would fit into that.

"And I got a meeting with Uhura tomorrow morning."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Well now, wasn't that interesting. A little vacation to see him settled in.

"Guess you got a head start on that," he said, glancing at the terminal. "Am I just supposed to be decorative, or what?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Nope. You're supposed to be educational. And mildly entertaining."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Stronger he might be, but he wasn't up to even standing for long periods of time. Nevertheless, there was a trace of the old smirk on his face as he sat back on the sofa.

"You've got some high hopes there," he said. "What else do you want to know? Think it might be awhile before my tap dancing is up to snuff."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy moved back to his bar, poured another couple of generous drinks for them both.

It was early in the day but fuck, it was vacation.

He waited until Kirk had his drink in hand and he'd settled himself on the other end of the sofa, turned to face his guest.

"I reckon you can pass the time telling me about Tarsus IV."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk just barely avoided spilling the drink all over the couch. As it was, the amber liquid sloshed up to the rim before he noted his tilting hand and righted it, staring at the appendage as if he could not remember whose it was.

"That's--" His voice was suddenly hoarse, and he noted his mouth was entirely dry. Unthinking, he downed more than half the drink at once, coughing as it burned a trail to his suddenly bottomless gut. "That's classified."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy looked around and nodded at the drink in Kirk's hand.

"And I reckon I've earned the security clearance to hear about it."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

McCoy's liquor was good, but it wasn't that good. Not yet, anyway. "Your little woman dig this up? Who'd she marry, again?" He wasn't stalling. Okay, he was, but he hadn't expected this, not out of the blue like this. For McCoy to have asked, now, he had to have been told recently.

Kirk didn't like thinking about it. Even less so now, when the memories looked too much like the mirror.

"If you know I was there, you know when," he said, finally looking up though only with his eyes. It gave him a hooded, haunted look, unconsciously mimicking those he saw in his mind's eye. "So you know I turned 14 during the famine and the massacre. I survived. You do the math."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I don't think you really want to try to make me talk about my wife's husband right now."

The thought of her giving it up for that slitdick galled him.

"Math ain't my specialty. And we've got nowhere else to go, Blue. I suspect it's time for you to tell me a goddamn story."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

What difference did it make now? He downed the rest of his glass. Pike had sealed those records, classified them, because they just complicated matters and he'd liked having that over Kirk. A favor, as well as a juicy tidbit held back. But McCoy wanted a fucking story, he'd give him one. He'd never been all that good at telling them, though. And never told this one.

"I was sent to Tarsus when I was 13," he said, the words coming hesitantly, though he could not identify the emotion that was tripping them up. "Mom couldn't deal with me, so she packed me off to some distant relatives to work their farm. Well, farms all failed. Whole crop just lost. We were okay for awhile, with our own place, but then the looting started. We fended them off. They just got thinner and more desperate. Finally there were too many, and we had nothing left anyway; I ran. Never heard from those cousins or whatever again."

His voice grew flat, uninflected.

"Sucked dick for awhile, when that still had some currency. Then no one would give up a wafer for anything less than my ass. Then there just wasn't food for any price. We banded together--me and some other kids, once things got so bad it didn't make sense on our own anymore. We were picked up by Kodos' army and found... useful."

He didn't look up. It wasn't remorse. He'd been too far gone for that. In a sense, he'd never come back.

"I don't know how many I killed myself. But we were the future, you know? The ones who got to serve. I got a commendation. At fourteen. Food. Pussy, when they had it. We were heroes."

And then they'd come home and no one had given a shit. It wasn't the waste of human life that bothered him. Or even what he'd done. Not anymore. But the horror he'd felt at the time hadn't left. The desperation to survive. The memory of those gaunt faces, offering him their mouths if he'd just throw them a crumb.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy sipped his drink and then sipped at it again, slow and easy.

"And when you came back?"

He'd read all the reports on Tarsus, had been old enough - and mature enough - when it was happening to appreciate the stupidity of it in a way the other bloodthirsty fools in his class had not.

Waste not, want not, his granny had always said. And Tarsus had been pure wasteful.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

"What?" Kirk looked up, startled, uncharacteristically lost in the memories. He blinked. "Nothing. Nothing happened. No one fucking cared. I was supposed to go back to school, you know? Just... go back to giving head for grades, or something. Being told I ate too much."

He'd been someone on Tarsus.

"So I said fuck it, and left home. Did my own thing until Pike convinced me Starfleet was the answer." He bit that off bitterly. He hadn't had much choice, once Pike was done with him. And part of him had been able to appreciate that Starfleet did offer something to his ambition.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

His snort was a clear response to that. Pike had convinced McCoy as well - though McCoy's only other option at the time had been a filthy cell and guards who kept slanting distrustful looks his way.

He'd only hurt the one of them.

"Why'd he hide it for you?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

"Probably had something to do with my dad," he said. "Pike always had a thing about him. Got the impression he was holding me in reserve for something." He looked at McCoy, tilted his head. He'd said enough. "Where'd he find you?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy's teeth were very white when he smiled.

"The supermax (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supermax) wing of the old US Pen (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Penitentiary,_Atlanta) in Atlanta."