leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

When he blinks his eyes awake, the sunlight filtering in through the new blinds of the second floor window is oppressive, there's a faint bitter taste on his tongue, and he feels sluggish and like he can't much move. He looks down in time to see a golden shirt on his torso and remembers, vaguely, that he had suggested this like the idiot he was.

You be the CMO, I'll be the Captain.

Apparently Jim's been harboring some resentment against all the hypos he's delivered over the years, because the very first thing he'd done was go for the goddamn hypo. "Son of a bitch," he slurs, trying to reach out with one hand to grab Jim by the uniform, but he slips out of the bed and falls, hard, onto the floor with a heavy thump.

"I hate you," he says, turning onto his back and staring up at the white ceiling and rubbing the entrance point of the hypo at his neck. "Why the hell did I marry a reprobate like you in the first place, huh?"

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When McCoy had suggested this, he'd really and genuinely thought they were going to play at it like ridiculous teenagers, with Jim having him turn his head and cough and give him a physical. Instead, it's turned into a sick revenge fantasy played out in front of him. "If this is how we're playing it, I think I deserve to go out and get myself half-impaled by a dinosaur," he mutters, using both hands to push himself up and onto the bed.

"As I hear it from our esteemed First Officer, you have a mountain of paperwork to tackle before you even think about having fun. Also, I haven't cleared you, so."

Jim takes the sensor part of the tricorder and sticks it in Bones' face, brow furrowed as he studies the readings. "Bad news, your readings have gone all squiggly. I'm going to have to keep you for observation."

McCoy levels Jim with an unimpressed look, sliding his now-steadying legs over on the bed and rolling his eyes with all the due irritation that's necessary in a situation like this. "Squiggly," he deadpans evenly. If this is how they're playing it, then that's how they'll play it. Shaking the last of the drowsiness off, he turns the best pair of bedroom eyes he's got on Jim, cocking his brow up. "In that case, how about you sending me one of your nurses, darlin', they can patch me up real nice," he drawls.

The brow Jim had raised in interest makes an abrupt descent. "Impossible. They're all occupied at present, unless - " Jim looks through the door. "Nurse Plum? Are you available to assist with - no? You're busy licking your paws? No problem."

Jim looks back to Bones. "I prefer to perform exams myself, anyway," he says, coming forward to ease a hand beneath Bones' jaw. "Hands on doctoring, that's my motto. Now, why don't you describe the symptoms that brought you to me today?"

He inhales sharply and tries not to lean too heavily into Jim's touch, tries not to give him the edge. "There's been this real tightness in my pants," he complains. "It's almost like it's swollen, like maybe I sprained something while I was fucking my latest conquest over the ready room table," he says heatedly, aware he's stretching the truth, but sometimes the fantastical takes root in his head. "You should've seen him, Doc," McCoy goes on, smirking. "Eyes so blue, you could drown in 'em and the most perfect ass I've seen on a man."

"Is that right?" Jim returns, gaze dropping to Bones' trousers. "Well, that's easy to do, table sex is an oft overlooked art. I have charts of recommended positions if you'd like to study them, sir. In the meantime..."

Jim's fingers go to the clasp of Bones' pants. "I need to make an examination of the damage." Parting the zipper, Jim reaches inside, fingers brushing featherlight. "Why don't you tell me what made this conquest of yours worth the damage?"

He tips his head back, panting lightly when Jim's touch is only barely light enough to feel. He digs his fingers into the sheets, licking his lower lip in steady swipes as he tries to recover some dignity. "...I'm..." he starts, then gets the rest out in a rush. "I'm in love with...," he breathes, tipping his head forward so he can look Jim in the eye. "I know it's against the regs and rules, but I'm in love with someone. And he reminded me of that someone. The damn regulations say I can't...I can't," he's nearly whining, Jim's touch not enough. "Doctor," he groans.

"Easy, Captain," Jim advises. "Your heartrate's going up. You know, these are tight, we really should have gotten you into scrubs. Lift your hips?"

Peeling Bones' pants down and away, Jim nods. "That feels better, huh?" He spreads his hand over the growing tent in Bones' boxers. "Non-regulation, could be part of the problem." He looks up, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm going to use gentle pressure, you tell me what hurts, and what feels good."

"What hurts, huh, what hurts," he echoes with a light scoff and a shake of his head, not wanting to spend too much time getting frustrated with how good at this whole pretending thing Jim is. He remains as stoic as he can, pretending like Jim's touch isn't doing a damn thing for him, not when it's gentle, not when it's less than that. "Huh," is all he says. "Nothing."

Jim tutts, grinning when Bones' eyes are closed. Roleplay had been part of his command track training, though of course the scenarios had never been anything like this. "Diminished sensitivity," he says, "Not good. My first thought is to try to get more air circulating down here." Urging Bones' hips up again, he tugs his boxers down, and after a moment's thought Jim follows them to the floor, settling between Bones' legs on his knees.

"Let's be thorough, test you against different stimuli. What about..." Leaning in, Jim breathes down the length of Bones' cock. "This?"

He widens his eyes when Jim tugs down the boxers, feeling like an idiot sitting there with his shirt on and nothing below that, but hell, he's come to terms with feeling like an idiot in general when Jim is around. "Well," he says, admirably steady as he doesn't let his voice squeak, "maybe if it came from someone else...?"

"Selective sensitivity." Jim looks up at him, eyes narrowed before his features smooth out. "This guy you're in love with, he's got blue eyes, right? Pretend I'm him." Bending his head, Jim nuzzles down Bones' length, taking the head briefly between his lips. "Anything yet, Captain?"

Steady. He has to be steady. If he gives anythin away, Jim will never let him live it down. He clears his throat and blinks, his breathing slightly increased, a bead of sweat on his forehead, but nothing beyond that. "I don't know that you're doing anything, Doctor."

"Worst case I've ever seen," Jim breathes. Shoving down an equal mix of frustration and admiration - Bones is putting up a damn good front - Jim pulls off him with a wet pop. He's got a few tricks up his borrowed sleeves, yet. "You're in a bad way, Captain. Permission to move on to more extreme tactics? I warn you, it could leave one or both of us walking funny tomorrow."

He inhales sharply and reaches down to tangle his fingers into Jim's hair, tugging him away and off with a considerate, sharp look. "I think maybe a second opinion. Maybe from a friend, not a doctor," he drawls, tipping his head to his side. "You got anyone in your life, doctor? Maybe you ought to pretend I'm them, maybe then you'll provoke a reaction."

"Me?" Jim twists his head in Bones' grasp. "I've got no time for romance. Too committed to being grumpy and work obsessed." He rests his cheek against Bones' bare thigh, sighing with perfect despondence. "There is one guy, though. If we had time for each other...but he's too busy. And important."

"One guy, huh?" he echoes, his eyelids falling shut with pleasure the longer Jim's cheek is rested against his bare thigh. He's doing his damn best to keep himself steady, but he's quickly losing focus and soon he's going to have Jim tied up to the damn bed. "Thought nobody outranked a CMO, at the end of the day. Isn't that what you keep bitching about?"

"Oh, I've got all kinds of power," says Jim, grinning up at him, "And I am totally ready to abuse it, believe you me. But at the end of the day, it's the Captain I need to listen to. The fate of the entire ship is in his hands, you know?"

Turning his head, Jim brushes a kiss to the soft skin of Bones' inner thigh. "Even mine."

Somehow they've gone from a strange and kinky version of roleplaying each other's lives to this and hell if he knows how they got there. "Guess you're lucky you have the best Captain in the whole damn fleet," he says, half boasting, half praising.

"Yeah," says Jim, soft, "The guy wearing Command gold right now is pretty great." He closes his eyes. It's been a hard month, and even if they'd entered this whole thing under the pretense of fun, it's been nice to get out of his headspace and into someone else's for a while.

"C'mon, Captain," he says, looking up at Bones again. "Let me make you feel good. CMO's orders."

"Can't exactly make me feel good if I can't take care of my crew, can I?" he murmurs, sliding his fingers through Jim's hair and exhaling deeply so that he can caress his cheek. "Besides, you're a genius. You can give me some advice while you make me feel good, about what I should do about the fact I got it bad for someone I work with and he doesn't have a damn clue. He just keeps screwing alien priestesses every time we get shore leave."

"Disrespectful of other culture's religions. Thank god he's not the Captain," Jim murmurs, eyes closed while Bones' fingers stroke over him. "Sounds to me like he doesn't know what he wants."

Eyes still closed, Jim leans in, following the heat and the unique scent of Bones to his cock. "Some kids are like that. Dumb." Opening his mouth, Jim licks a long stripe from root to tip, savoring the flavor that bursts against his tongue. "And scared. You should let him know how you feel."

"Some kids, huh," he breathes out, his cock jumping without him willing it too. He swallows the lump in his throat, but looks down where he can match Jim's gaze with his own, leaning forward to tip Jim's chin up. "Is this the appropriate time to let him now, Doctor?"

"You're the Captain," Jim rasps out, and Christ, how did he get so wrecked between one slow suck of Bones' cock and the next? Bones' eyes glitter down at him, and Jim can't breathe. "The right time is when you say it is."

"Then get the fuck up here, Kirk," he growls, gripping one of Jim's gorgeous shoulders and hauling him closer with one good tug, until Jim's stumbling into his lap and McCoy is easing back and widening his legs, thighs spread apart. "It's you. It's always been goddamn you. Watching you at the academy," he exhales. "Jesus, you made me feel like shit, how gorgeous you were."

Jim laughs, suddenly seated in Bones' lap, feeling safe and somehow fragile, for all that he squeezes his thighs' around Bones' and grins down at him. "Not the effect I'd intended," he says. "I just wanted..." But Jim trails off, fingers caught in Bones' hair. "I didn't know how to be worthy of what I wanted. The Enterprise. Pike's faith. Yours. You."

He wraps his arms around Jim's shoulders, relaxed and casual, not sure how much he's acting anymore. "Honestly, don't think you even noticed me for the first semester," he admits, which goes both ways except that he'd heard rumors about the new whizkid on campus. "And then you started dating and I saw your type and I thought 'well, that's it for me'," he says with a derisive scoff.

"I didn't have a type," says Jim, leaning down just far enough to suck at the smooth juncture of Bones' throat. "I couldn't believe I was even there. Spent the whole first semester waiting to get kicked out, the second, waiting for you to notice I was a cornfed delinquent. You never did though."

Jim kisses Bones' cheek. "Now you are legally bound to live with the consequences."

"Your type wasn't old divorcés, I know that much," he grunts, but he's running his fingers up and down Jim's spine casually and lightly, barely doing much more than just glimpsing the skin with the pads of his fingers. "You were too damn smart for your own good. And now I'm Doctor Kirk-McCoy-Too-Egotistical-To-Live."

"Are you now?" grins Jim, back arching to chase Bones' too light fingertips. "In that case, you're wearing the wrong colors." He pushes his hands beneath the gold, feels smooth skin and muscle beneath his fingers. "Better take it off."

"I'm probably stretching the damn shoulders out, anyhow," he mutters and gives Jim a flash of a sheepish grin as he rolls his shoulders back and helps to shrug the shirt off like it isn't a big deal at all and he does this all the time. "You wanna get those clothes off, peaches? You look awful uncomfortable, all medical like that."

"Stop bragging," Jim laughs, tugging the shirt over Bones' head and grinning for the mess it makes of his hair. He pulls his own shirt off next, not bothering to make a show of it. "I don't know, I kind of liked playing doctor for a while. Especially the exam part."

And the part where he'd hypoed Bones, but Jim doesn't want to kill the mood...

"Yeah, well, remind me never to let you play field medic, you trigger-happy bastard," he growls, rubbing at the spot where Jim had stabbed him the first time around. "You know what I like best about being Captain? That I can order you to get your pants off and you'll listen."

"Hey," says Jim, inserting his face into the crook of Bones' neck, licking along where the Command collar so recently lay. "I like following your orders. Especially when it involves my pants. Also, you have only my doctorly role model to blame when it comes to the hypos."

"I don't have half your damn allergies, Captain," he moans out the last half of his sentence, when Jim's lips get on him in a place that's definitely interesting. "Shit," he growls. "Next time we roleplay, how about you can be my latest client and I'm your trick, huh?"

"You want to be my rent boy?" says Jim, mulling over the idea as he tightens his legs around Bones' waist, bringing their bodies flush together. "And I'm the wealthy banker that just wants to save you from the streets?" He whispers in Bones' ear. "I could get into that."

"Know Rogue's car?" he murmurs, breathing heavily as he bears himself down, lower against the bed. "I'd wait up against that thing in jeans too tight for man, wearing a see-through mesh shirt," he promises. "And I'd blow you in the backseat if you paid me enough, Cap."

"Fuck," Jim curses, following him down until his body is curled over Bones' on the bed. "Someone would see. And I don't think they make twink shirts in your size, Bones."

Grinding gently down, Jim adds, "Still gonna jerk off to the thought of that every shower this week."

That pulls a pleased smile from McCoy, his lips curling up warmly as he buries his fingers in Jim's hair, taking abject pleasure in the way Jim looks on top of him right now. "Someone would see, huh? Is it my imagination or are you edging away from trying to have sex with me in public, huh?"

"I'm just trying to protect your virtue," Jim murmurs, stretching out on top of Bones, their legs tangled comfortably with the ease of long habit. He shifts, enjoying the idle drag of their bodies together. "And maybe I don't like the thought of sharing so much anymore."

It's stupid, but he's almost glad to hear the possessiveness from Jim. It's not that he's insecure about this, but hell, maybe he thought that it'd be a fight to keep his interest. To reward such good words, he slips his hand between their bodies and gives Jim a long, languid, lazy stroke up and down, rubbing his thumb absently over the head of Jim's dick. "You're never gonna have to share me, Jim," he reminds him, mildly.

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