Doctor Patient Relationship
"Bones! What did you wanna see me ab-" Words failed Jim, right before his bones melted in his skin, and he slipped to the floor. The last thing he saw before his vision blurred completely to black were the bright blue eyes of his CMO, twinkling with a malicious mirth.
Jim came to with a start, in a dark, private room tucked away in the back of Sickbay. What the hell? He moved to sit up, but realized his arms were strapped to the damn bed. Legs too. What the fuck is happening to my ship? He went over the last few moments before he'd lost consciousness, but could recall nothing out of the ordinary. Not even McCoy's request to see him when he was done with ship's business was terribly unusual. It wasn't common, necessarily, but they were friends. Sometimes they sat around and shot the breeze over drinks, and half the time, it was done in Bones’ office.
This, clearly, was not one of those times.
Jim closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He had to focus, regroup, stay calm. Yes, yes. His nerves were frayed, and he'd been awake, what, five minutes? Had it even been that long?
Time passed immeasurably. No sound reached him. He didn't bother calling out. Jim knew every inch of his ship - even as disoriented as he was, he knew he was in the bowels of Sickbay, completely soundproofed. It was the safest area in the ship. It was, also, the most dangerous - a person could be tortured for hours here, and no one would be the wiser.
Stop it. Get a grip, goddammit. So much for calm, focused regrouping.
He tried counting to get a sense of time, but he lost count when he got past two thousand. He tried recounting nursery rhymes, but they wouldn't come to him at all. He tried listing the names of his senior staff, the cities they were born in, and their favorite foods, but he faltered when he came to Lieutenant Commander Leonard H McCoy, M.D. His brain just stopped working.
Captain Kirk was literally near tears when a door finally slid open. He whipped his head toward the sound and tensed, ready for action, despite the restraints. The outer room was also darkened. Jim couldn't make out the figure that entered the room, couldn't even hear the footfalls which had to be getting closer. He started to shake when still nothing happened. Finally, he broke. "Who's there?" It was supposed to be authoritative, the Captain's voice, but it came out a sob, broken and trembling.
The lack of response coiled fear in his belly, and he began to strain against the restraints. He pulled and pushed and yanked and twisted and kicked and swore and stayed perfectly tied to the goddamned bed. His head hit the pillow with a thud, and he let it loll one way then the other.
Something pulled at his pants leg. He froze again, and began to shake violently as the first sound that wasn't his making reached his ears: something was ripping at his pants leg. The fabric settled down and fluttered away, exposing a leg. Then went the other pants leg. There was light movement near his hips, more ripping of fabric, the infuriating tickle of never-touching fingertips. "Don't..."
Something was tugged from underneath him, and his pants were suddenly ripped away, leaving him rather exposed. This time, the fingertips barely brushed his hips as his briefs were tugged, and they too were ripped and yanked away. Tears rolled down Jim's cheeks. The tug came at the sleeve of his golden tunic, and he flicked a wrist away. The sob ripped from his throat, but he didn't care. "Please... not my stripes. Leave me my stripes."
The pause was almost too long, and Jim could feel nausea welling in his belly as he waited for his attacker to finally make a move. When it came, it was gentle, surprisingly so. His shirt was shoved up to his armpits, and that was that. And then, finally, "You feel pins and needles in your hands or feet, say so. 'Pins' will do. You feel pain you can't bear, you say 'Red Alert'."
The nausea swilled in his gut and threatened to spill out. "Bones... what the fuck?"
A fist to the gut relieved his nausea violently. A hand pushed his head roughly to the side, while the other went in his mouth, scooping the bitter mess to clear an airway. He heaved once more, but it was mostly reflex - he was spent, just like that. The hands were removed from his person, but he didn't move. He didn't know what the fuck to think.
"You need to red alert?"
Jim opened his mouth to say yes, but he couldn't quite form the word. Curiosity prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. He closed his mouth again, silent.
"Good." A damp towel wiped at him roughly. He was cleaned, somewhat, enough to not have to smell his soured lunch for the duration of... whatever this was supposed to be. Then cool, strong hands were touching his belly, palpitating, as if one expected to find a parasite within. The hands pressed. Jim grunted softly. Apparently satisfied, the hands disappeared.
They reappeared again at the apex of his thighs. Jim instinctively tried to scoot away, but there was no give in the restraints, and no place to run to even if there were. Trapped against the bed, Jim whimpered pathetically while his friend, his fucking doctor, palmed his balls. Was this it? This was the big mystery?
The hands shifted and stilled. One hand held Jim's limp cock loosely, thumb over the slit. The other moved down, to the soft spot just under his balls. It was this hand that pressed, and Jim's whole body tensed up, like he'd just closed a circuit powerful enough to send the Enterprise to Warp 10 from a fucking standstill. Jim panted through it, not exactly sure if it was pleasure or pain, just that it was strong and unyielding and fucking there.
Just as suddenly, the sensation stopped. The hand on his dick was still there, but now the forefinger of the other hand was touching the slit, rubbing over it in little circles. Jim hissed slightly at the change in texture when the fingertip flipped around to rub the back of a nail over his awakening head. Bones chuckled, a deep, throaty sound, dripping with sex. Jim hissed again, and tried not to want to hear that chuckle once more.
The thumb came to cap over his slit again, and the finger moved down, down, slipping between his cheeks, and there! Jim jumped at the less than pleasant intrusion, but Bones just kept working his way in, slowly, slowly, making little hushing sounds deep in his throat. Jim had never before noticed how fucking deep Bones' voice really was. It was making him throb in places his friend had never been able to reach, no matter how much he fluttered those long, chocolaty lashes over those big sky blue eyes.
What the fuck??
Jim had no time to contemplate further, when that finger curled in and pressed something deep inside. This time his body bucked against the restraints, and a strange, garbled cry sounded through the room. Bones’ answering purr made him realize he was probably the source of that sound, but there was no time, no room, no fucking ability to ponder that – or anything else – further. The finger kept an even pressure as it slid up and down his interior wall ever so slightly. His cock was freed, and he felt it rise up proudly, leaking cum and probably his fucking brains onto his bared belly.
Another finger worked its way inside, and the pressure was almost too much. He was moments from trying to stop the madness when he felt the pad of a fingertip drag lightly over one nipple. That strangled cry came squealing from his throat again, garbled by the incoherent working of his jaw and tongue. He clenched his fists over and over, frustrated, needy, wanton.
The hand that wasn’t squeezing his brains through his dick from inside his ass had moved back down to his belly. This time the fingers were harsh and indelicate, grabbing fingerfuls of whatever folds of flesh were created by Jim’s twistings and strainings. Short, surprisingly sharp fingernails scraped parenthesis around his navel repeatedly, and that deep, rich purr was turning slowly into a dangerous growl. The clawing stung, but the sting just made the insanity that was his cock feel all the more delicious.
”Lights five percent,” Bones growled through gritted teeth, and, finally, finally, Jim could see his captor. The innocent baby blues weren’t so innocent or baby blue. He looked wild, dangerous, and his eyes glittered brightly, like polished titanium. Fear began to creep back into Jim’s belly, but it must have showed on his face. “No,” Bones cooed, blinking in time with the slide of his fingers. “I’m good to my pets, sugar.” Jim became distantly aware that his babbling had taken on new fervor. “Yes, sugar, you need this. You need this.”
The pressure inside Jim stopped sliding, and, instead, began to build. He could see, actually see his dick point straight up at the ceiling, as it began to spurt weakly from the delicious explosion deep inside. His belly tightened up and his trembling began anew, but this time, it had fuck all to do with fear.
Suddenly, he was engulfed in wet heat, and screaming bloody murder. He could feel the head of his too sensitive cock bump the back of Bones’ throat, and it was his complete undoing. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, all he could do was feel, and that felt as if the entire universe was streaming all the way down into his dick, where it could explode infinitesimally.
When he became aware again, the lights had been darkened again. He moved a leg, trying to shift through the pain settling in his ass. The leg was free. He sat up gingerly, removed his soiled shirt, and drew up on himself.
After a few moments, he realized there were very low lights on, as his eyes began to adjust and take in the basic shapes in the room. He could see something piled up on the table next to his bed. A fresh uniform. Instead of the standard gold tunic, he’d been given the Captain’s green wrap. He tugged it on, slowly.
He’d just toed into his boots when the door swooshed open. “What the hell – Lights!” Dr. McCoy stood there looking disgruntled and ruffled as usual, with Nurse Chapel right on his heels. He made a sour face and turned to her. “Nevermind, Christine, he’s right here. Leave it to Jim to give us all a heart attack and take a nap right under our damn noses.”
”Well, as long as he’s alright – you are alright, aren’t you sir?” Chapel’s face was open and friendly, her smile warm and sincere. McCoy’s face was closed and guarded.
Jim put on his most charming smile. “Busted.” He shrugged innocently – hell, he was innocent, goddammit.
Chapel patted McCoy soothingly on the shoulder before turning on her heel and whisking out the door to get on with the rest of her life. Jim’s smile dropped and he fingered his shirt awkwardly.
Bones sauntered towards him like he always did, and Jim noticed – really noticed – for the first time how Bones always canted his hips forward, like he was coming to greet him sex first. Jim must have been completely transparent, because as soon as the thought flashed through his mind, Bones had that wicked, terrifying, predatory smile. “You should wear that more often, Jim.” Bones was in his space, breathing his air. “It brings out the color of your eyes.” He licked Jim’s lips, ground his narrow hips against Jim’s own plush thigh. Jim swayed a little. “My little green eyed pet,” Bones murmured.
“What happens now?”
”Whatever you want.”
Jim’s lip began to tremble. He opened his mouth.
“Red Alert, All hands, battlestations. This is not a drill. Repeat, All hands, battlestations. Red Alert, this is not a drill. Captain Kirk, to the bridge.
Bones looked stricken. He began to back away.
Jim suddenly reached for him, grabbed his wrist. “Bones.” His mouth crooked up in a half smile. “I didn’t say that.” He squeezed once, and ran to the bridge.