Detente

[sharpestscalpel]

It had chaffed at first. Jocelyn had left him to rot, pissed as hell about the kid. He’d mulled over vivid revenge fantasies until, the first time he saw her afterwards, he’d had to clench his fists in his pockets so they wouldn’t reach out of their own accord and settle over her fine collarbones and reel her in for a taste old-fashioned McCoy justice like spit in her eye.

But in the end, he hadn’t blamed her. She was a conniver and he hadn’t ever been as willing a participant in her scheme as she’d have liked. Jocelyn had deserved a shot a making it on her own terms. She’d taken that chance.

She hadn’t done half-bad for herself, McCoy had to admit. But then, neither had he. Especially considering where Pike had found him. Every day spent in solitary – it had worn on him, made him tired and angry and hungry for hurting things in ways he’d never been on the outside.

Pike had come, waving a shiny new medical license and a Fleet uniform, an offer too good to pass up. CMO of the Fleet’s fancy new darling of a flagship or shitting his bed out of boredom inside four walls with no windows? At least in space he’d see the stars.

The stars and pretty little officers all dressed up like they were real shitting captains. Uhura strode over to his table, tiny body full of energy and violence in a way that made her extra appealing to look at, and took the other seat without asking.

“McCoy, what the hell?” Uhura hadn’t really counted on Kirk coming back. She surveyed the emaciated man – she’d teased him about his slim hips but this was ridiculous – sitting slightly behind the doctor, watching everything from those haunted blue eyes.

Uhura was the one chaffing now, all the power she’d thought she had coming with a ride-along, circumscribed from being absolute. She had the ship. But McCoy had his sickbay. And she’d eventually need it, need him. Pike had given McCoy more than he’d expected – but he’d still fucked them both because they were stuck with each other.

“You want to make this an official conversation, we can take it back to your office… Captain.” The pause was significant, not quite insulting but certainly not currying favor.

Her headshake was minimal but definite. Their dependence on one another wasn’t known – and she’d prefer to keep it that way. McCoy had never made a play for power that Uhura knew of but he’d have all of her enemies rallying behind him if the stalemate became common knowledge.

“Kirk.” Uhura acknowledged him at least. He had his rank, she’d checked the computer records. He’d need McCoy to clear him for duty before he could set foot on the bridge and even then Uhura wasn’t about to trust the blond man. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to see him alive, especially if being in the good doctor’s care mean McCoy had something invested in him. There was some sort of opportunity here, she just had to sniff it out.

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[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Shut the fuck up, Kirk." McCoy's voice was a sudden hiss of anger directed back over his shoulder at Kirk. The last thing they needed was Scotty with information or ideas.

On the plus side, Kirk had just given McCoy his excuse. He tucked away his satisfaction for a moment.

"Scotty, shut up, man." The detox hypo could only do so much and the chief engineer was moaning low. "Shut up and mind your fucking ship. She's been seduced away but I'll bet you a quart of your finest that you can win her back."

Nothing like sowing a little discord in the morning.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Things happened when Kirk was bored, though they'd been happening less frequently these past months. Survival took the edge off, as it were.

Perhaps, with a little less to worry about on that front, he was starting to feel restless again. McCoy's anger was startling less in the context of the situation and more in the context of McCoy himself, whose moods seemed more subtle, hard to fathom, than that. But it was enough to shut him up again, for now. And remind himself that he was being allowed to witness that, however it fell into McCoy's plans. However it chafed to have to be "allowed" to do anything.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Scotty was nodding now. If anyone had a chance at testing the complete control of the probes, it was this one - he'd all but been a lover to the Enterprise.

And McCoy wasn't taking any bets on whether or not Scotty had found a way to express his obsession in a physical way. At least he'd never shown up in sickbay with suspicious burns.

McCoy soothed the drunkard, whispered suggestions in his ear until Scotty was asleep and murmurring plans to win back his love. It might not work, but if it didn't, Uhura would track everything back to Scotty - who wouldn't remember a thing thanks to the drugs mixed in with the detox.

When the chief engineer was snoring, McCoy turned his attention back to Kirk. A jerk of his head directed the blond man back to the door without a sound.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

His mouth a thin line, Kirk followed. He didn't know what McCoy had said to him--just murmured words here and there had floated back to him. Nor did he know what had been in the hypo--you never really did, with him.

But he could be it was brilliant, whatever had just gone on. Kirk stepped outside, holding his tongue.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Kirk wouldn't last the walk back to sickbay, weak fucker that he was. McCoy sighed, slung a supportive arm around Kirk's waist, hitched one of the other man's arms around his shoulders.

"We got us a little bit of a walk and I'd hate for you to be fucked out at the end of it."

They walked the long hall to the ladder where McCoy boosted Kirk up first. "There's a turbolift at the halfway point of this hall."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

The sudden contact had startled him, put him on his guard until he realized what McCoy was doing and the shame of it washed over him for a moment. Help walking. Fuck. If anyone saw them, he was fucked. He wanted to fight, to shove McCoy away, but on top of knowing he wouldn't be able to, he knew that even if he did he probably wouldn't have any strength left over for the walk itself.

He tried not to think about the last time anyone had touched him other than to fuck with him, or clean up the mess. Which, intellectually, he knew this was, too. He couldn't bring himself to thank McCoy, but he didn't complain, either. Though the set of his jaw spoke to his unhappiness with the situation.

Kirk knew the Enterprise as well, but he tamped that back too as he climbed, concentrating on putting hand over hand and coordinating his legs.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Kid was unhappy. Good. Let him stew in his own weakness at the moment. Let him remember how much he depended on McCoy.

McCoy wasn't really angry, had felt the flare of it fade almost as fast as Kirk had shut his damn mouth after his trangression. But rules were rules.

He helped Kirk to the turbolift, let his hand touch gently and supportively, kept his mouth closed on the topic.

"Sickbay."

M'Benga should be on duty. He'd be just fine.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

The mixed signals were going to be Kirk's undoing; layered over the anger in McCoy's eyes was the calm touch of his hand, dulling Kirk's vigilance. And everything now had a veil of fatigue over it, not yet debilitating but fuzzing the edges of his responses. He needed to get back on top of things. He would.

He glanced sharply at McCoy at the order, his mouth snapping open and then just as sharply shut again. But the question in his eyes was clear.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy let Kirk stand on his own, make his own way down the halls that had a chance of being populated. He just led the way in silence.

M'Benga was stocking shelves - McCoy waved and pointed him back to the iso room. He dropped the box of gauze he was fumbling with - the man was no damn kind of nurse - and met them there.

"Kirk ain't learned to keep his damn mouth shut. Figure you might want to have a little shitting talk with him about it."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

And there is was, the shoe drop-kicking him in the gut. The fact that it took him by surprise was surprising enough in itself. M'Benga's abject slavishness to McCoy's demands was reason enough to be worried, if nothing else. And there was plenty else.

His eyes shot to McCoy, mingled defiance and fear he could not hide in his haunted expression.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy's own eyes were kind. His hands were soothing as he led Kirk back into the iso room where he'd been caged for so long, following M'Benga's eager back, every line of it tense with excitement.

The door locked with an ominous finality. McCoy slumped in his chair as though Kirk had never left this room, never slept on his couch.

"M'Benga here got himself on my shit list. But he's a fuck up as a nurse. This here is his opportunity to earn himself back in my damn good graces, Blue. You wouldn't want to deny him that, now would you?"

The man in question knew better than to open his mouth. M'Benga had learned his lesson. Now he just waited for a chance to prove it.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk did not want to be here. He hadn't realized until just now how much he hated this room--as much as he would have hated that cell, when this was his sanctuary. McCoy's kindness was suspect, as was M'Benga's poorly concealed excitement. McCoy slouched, but Kirk stood stiff and straight. Waiting. It was interesting that McCoy felt the need, or just interest, to couch it like he was doing M'Benga a favor. Kirk didn't want to ever be the third man in that room, cowed and so beaten he was eager even for the blow.

"Guess not," he said. Thing was, he would, he'd deny him hard, but he had no goddamn choice. Kirk knew McCoy well enough to know that whatever he had in mind, he could think of something worse.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy nodded to M'Benga who, still without making a sound, was on Kirk in a flash, big hands moving over his body and forcing him - it took such a little bit of force - to his knees.

"See, you got this mouth. Pretty fucking mouth, I might add, but you got this moutht that's going to land us both in goddamn trouble you don't learn to shut it the shit up when I tell you until I tell you otherwise."

M'Benga was rubbing Kirk's face over his crotch, hard already and pulling up the short skirt of the minidress he'd been forced to wear as part of his demotion. He'd assumed the panties were required as well - the choice to wear them the first step in his complex apology to his CMO, his superior officer.

"If you can't keep your mouth fucking shut, I'll shut you the hell up some other way, Blue, you best believe it."

Through it all, McCoy's voice didn't waver from its kindly, advice-giving tone. He was here to help clear up a misunderstanding or two: M'Benga's lack of control and Kirk's lack of understanding. Two birds with one fucking stone.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

It was almost a relief. Jim Kirk knew from sucking cock. And it wasn't like this was the worst thing to ever be forced down his throat, either, fucking panties or no. So sure, it was ignominious, but hell, your superior officer cutting your fucking balls off put a lot into perspective. He could barely find the strength to care that he couldn't get it up anymore, that he was on this end of things from now on, considering he could probably count the number of BJs he'd given for his own personal gratification rather than as a rung of some ladder. Kirk didn't like being used. But he was experienced at it. And he gave as good as he got.

Kirk was already rubbing back, nosing M'Benga's hardness through the material and letting his hands slide through the coarse hair of his legs to rest where they'd allow him some leverage. He mouthed him, hot moist breath seeping through the fabric as Kirk's fingers worked under the elastic.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy eased out of the chair and onto the floor next to Kirk, close enough to speak in his ear, warm hands on his shoulders.

"Now, now, that ain't the business, Jimmy-boy. I ain't in doubt of your skills. I'm in doubt of your fucking ability to shut the fuck up. That's all I want, some assurance you know how to follow some shitting instructions when I'm trying to keep us both in poppies and pussy."

His glance up at M'Benga took in the bitten lip, the fierce concentration that kept the large man silent even as he shoved the panties aside, freed his cock, grabbed Kirk's head, and shoved into Kirk's mouth as far as he could. "That's right, Geoff. You're a stubborn fucking man but you learned it, ain't you?"

His attention returned to Kirk - he moved behind, straddled Kirk's bent legs with his knees to sit up close behind Kirk's head, fingers stroking through the thin blond hair.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

He'd been wondering, of course. Wondering if he'd be allowed to maintain any control in this, if he'd be allowed to show off, to show McCoy what he could do, to make the asshole wish he wasn't just watching.

He wasn't just watching. Kirk could feel the heat of him behind him, as he held still, waiting. He'd lost his gag reflex long ago and McCoy had given him fair warning and he'd relaxed as much as he could. Like falling off a bike. M'Benga was big and Kirk could feel the saliva start to pool, the strain of holding still building. Part of him felt some triumph, that McCoy's interest was still there, feverish on his scalp. Part of him wanted to press back against him, but that wasn't the game, was it? But he could show off this way, too. Because whatever else, whether he fought or gave in, he had a choice. And choosing to submit was not giving in. Choosing to play along kept him in the game.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy nodded to M'Benga who began fucking Kirk's mouth in earnest, still silent, always silent.

But not McCoy. He crooned behind Kirk's ear.

"I'm looking out for you. You think Scotty won't remember shit because he's drunk? That fucker ain't been sober since he was shit out of his mama's cunt. He'll remember and if we ain't lucky, he'll wonder, and he'll look a bit closer at the what all's been going on. That man just wants his ship but if he thinks Uhura plans to take the whole thing? He'll fucking blow us all to fucking dust for spite. I can't tell you shit if you can't be trusted to keep your trap trapped, Blue, what other choice I got?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk took it in, all of it, his lips and throat stretching around flesh, McCoy fucking his ear at the same time with little puffs of air and that bourbon-laced voice. Kind and understanding, for his own good. Kirk recognized the type. It'd all be for his own good, every last bit of it, McCoy his personal fucking physician. If he hadn't slipped up today, McCoy would have found some other excuse for this, for this silent hulking fucker and his hard, unsubtle cock pistoning in and out even as McCoy's fingers in his hair were like a pleasant reminder, a polite message that yes, he would let this dumb fuck fuck his face and anything else he told him to.

He was trapped between the two rhythms, words and prick, pinned and primed and all he could do was take it in. Couldn't say yes or no, couldn't do anything but brace himself and relax and take his lesson--part of him, fleetingly, wondering why McCoy wasn't giving it himself.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I want to trust you, Jimmy-boy. You got to give me reason though or it ain't going to fucking happen."

M'Benga was an asshole, cramming his dick as far down Kirk's throat as he could get as though he'd never have another mouth at his beck and call for the rest of his damn life. Shit-face didn't deserve what McCoy was offering him.

"You want to disagree with me, you want to ask questions, you just hold them - hold them behind your damn teeth until we got a minute to ourselves and I'll tell you what I can, what you need to know. You just keep it to yourself in public, Jimmy-boy, you understand that? You understand that, you let me know somehow."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Fucking annoying, not being about to work. Went against M'Benga's interests, too, not giving Kirk any room. Man wanted that, he could use any damn hole, didn't even have to be sentient. So he couldn't operate, couldn't move his hands from the man's thighs for fear of whiplash, couldn't use his tongue, couldn't do anything but open wide and stand in as a fucking receptacle.

Jimmy-boy.

If it was McCoy in his mouth, McCoy's cock hard and insistent between his lips, Kirk just bet he could show him. He'd let him know, lips and tongue and a hint of teeth. He bet McCoy would like that. His fingers fluttered in Kirk's hair and he understood, he did, he understood survival and laying low. He just jumped the gun sometimes. And this, as punishment, this was sweet. This was patience itself. The lessons Kirk had been forced to learn had, for the most part, been just that. Force. And sure, there was this fucker trying to force his goddamn latent gag reflex, but McCoy's voice at his ear was almost a plea for understanding. Hypnotized, suspended, Kirk fell into it. He understood.

But he couldn't move his hands, couldn't nod, couldn't form words and any vocalization was just as likely to be a choke. So, unthinking, he eased back, his upper half remaining in place as his lower fit itself against McCoy. Deliberate and almost inviting.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Kirk was good, such a good one. McCoy curled close closer right up close against Kirk until they were pressed tight against each other firm enough for McCoy to feel the effort it was taking Kirk not to rock and sway from the force of M'Benga's thrusts.

McCoy's lips brushed the edge of Kirk's ear. "I believe you, Jimmy-boy."

Then he was pulling his head back to command, 'That's about enough of that, goddamn you're an asshole fucking his face like that."

The large man's grip tightened on Kirk's head before he threw himself backwards and away, cock angry and engorged. But his mouth was still silent. He really had learned his lesson.

Hell, he had to give him credit for that much at least. "Geoff, go back to your quarters. Clean up and next time I see you, you better fucking be prepared to do some goddamn doctoring."

The man stared for a moment, then scrambled to his feet, panties still askew, dress hiked up, and ran from the room.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk stared after him for a moment, M'Benga suddenly ridiculous, a puppet for McCoy to toy with. There was certainly a strange element of vindication in seeing it, in hearing him admonished, in (though he could not know it) being McCoy's instrument.

But they were still pressed up together, Kirk's signal apparently more than satisfactory, and he wondered if it was going to happen now. If McCoy was going to take whatever it was he'd been wanting. Kirk's lips were red and swollen from the abuse and he licked them, waiting. He didn't feel beaten. He felt proud. Part of a team. What did it cost him to remain silent? What did it matter, when he could see a future stretching before him where he could say whatever the fuck he wanted, if he just held his tongue for now?

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy supported Kirk's body, caught and tempted - but it wasn't the time yet, Kirk wasn't asking for it, thought he wouldn't mind it but didn't actively want it yet. And this wasn't the place. Still, he'd give Kirk something small, a reminder, something to dwell on.

His hands shifted, sensitive fingers rubbing circles over Kirk's protruding hip bones. "You did so good, Jimmy-boy. You're going go as far as I can send you, you'd best just bet. Jos'll think you're a goddamn treat, she will." He kissed the back of Kirk's neck, soft and warm imprint of his lips on skin that was coming back to life.

He gave Kirk a few more crooning noises of approval before he moved them, helping Kirk to his feet and making sure he was steady. "You look fucked out. My other business can hold; we'll head back home now." Always considerate, always kind.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk regarded him silently for a moment, natural distrust at the kindness, the caresses, at war with his hunger for the attention. He was only aware of the former, but his conflict was evident. He did not like that McCoy seemed to think of him as a pet, to be punished and rewarded at his will. But then again, Kirk had decided to go along with him, to accept his protection, in the absence of other opportunities. And yet, he could not entirely suppress his gratitude at being let off so easily, at the prospect of rest, of a safe space.

He could still feel McCoy's lips on his neck, not arousing per se but a lingering tingle, and felt a renewal of his confusion. Why was McCoy holding back? He hadn't in the brig, he perverse delight in what he saw acted upon from the safety of the hallway. Now he had Kirk entirely at his mercy (if he chose to exert it) and thus far his liberties had been minimal. Kirk didn't understand. Unless McCoy only got off on watching, on himself. Maybe that was it.

"I don't need to be coddled," he said, a reaction against his pleasure at McCoy's approval. "I know I fucked up, but I'm not a child."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I figured you for a child, you wouldn't be much of my concern, Blue. I don't coddle."

It was with matter of fact attitude that he opened the door, waited for Kirk to pass through it in a display of manners of some sort.