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.

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[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

It took Kirk a moment to collect himself and move. As if waiting for the other shoe, disbelieving that he now had computer access and McCoy was just going to... read.

He avoided swaying as he rose, though his head was feeling it, and made his way to the terminal. As with the replicator, his codes were operational. But Starfleet was used to sudden, unexcused absences, and any alliances he'd had had been severed, so there wasn't much of a personal nature to see. You didn't leave calling cards, especially linked to Pike's latest example. Unless, of course, you were a Rigellian prince. Assholes.

And the news was scarce. No word about Pike or Spock, though Kirk confirmed that Uhura was in charge now, that Chekov had been bumped up, and various personnel shifts had resulted in the scramble. Apparently that fucker Leslie was doing his job, but Kirk had never considered it more than a stepping stone anyway so decided not to give a rat's ass.

But his name, rank and accounts were still active, waiting, as if he'd just stepped out on shore leave. For months. It was a strange oversight on Spock's part, and Kirk had to assume McCoy was right. There was something between those two, something that went beyond political alliance and possibly beyond the loyalty a dog owed its master. Something that had distracted his attention from fully cleaning up the mess.

There was more Kirk wanted to know, of course, but if you were clever enough almost everything left a trail. And Kirk wasn't about to go snooping for dirt on McCoy's own terminal without some pretty sure safeguards. He'd just have to wait. He glanced over at the man, wondering what he could have done. Wondering what it was he had, that his little life fell around him like it did. That such a sick fuck wasn't either dead or running the place. And maybe that was the secret he'd found--how to live in the middle.