"My, you two do look pretty," Christine purred from her position on the bed.
Settled in for the evening with a lurid historical romance and the largest box of chocolates that the ship's replicators could provide her with, she regarded her boys fondly as they jostled each other for space at the mirror.
"We look like damned idiots," McCoy said, scowling at his reflection as he adjusted the tight fit of his collar.
"Speak for yourself," Kirk sniffed, elbowing him out of the way. "I think I look handsome. Handsome and manly. What do you think, Chris?"
He stepped back from the mirror, making minor but critical adjustments to the way his service medals sat on his broad chest.
"Very handsome," Christine agreed, swinging her legs off the bed so she could stand and adjust the medals for herself. If that meant that she got to spend a few seconds feeling up her boyfriend, well then, so much the better.
"There is nothing manly about dress uniform," McCoy argued, still in danger of strangling himself at the mirror. "It's tight, it's impractical and it always means that something incredibly boring is about to happen."
"Stop that," chided Christine as she drifted away from Kirk and towards McCoy, tweaking Kirk's nipple on the way past because it was just there, and begging to be pinched. Kirk yelped satisfactorily, and then leered at her in the way she loved.
McCoy obediently stopped pulling at the collar, but continued his tirade against the uniform as Christine unhooked the last few fasteners that McCoy had got jumbled.
"It's a meal with a bunch of delegates from a trade federation," he said gloomily. "That shouldn't rank the dress uniform, and it certainly shouldn't require all the senior staff."
"It's a treaty signing with the lead members of the largest dilithium-handling trade federation in the alpha quadrant," Kirk said, shaking his head. "If they sign, we get all the dilithium that they would otherwise be selling to the Romulans or the Klingons. We get to rebuild the fleet ten times quicker than we would otherwise, and we do it without the risk of the two largest and most warlike empires out there capitalising on our weakness. Dress uniform always impresses, and it's a small price to pay for security."
McCoy sighed, and kissed the top of Christine's head as she finished settling his collar.
"I suppose you're right," he grumbled. "I just don't see why I've got to be there."
"You have to go," Christine said quickly, before Kirk could open his mouth and antagonise McCoy into a full-blown argument, "because this way I get to admire just how tightly this jacket clings to those biteable shoulders of yours, Len, and how those pants cling to Jim's ass."
McCoy looked at Kirk, who helpfully wiggled his backside in the direction of his lovers.
"They do fit well," he conceded.
"And while you're both gone to drink illegally imported Romulan ale and tell stories about how brave you are with half-drunken trade leaders, I get to lay back on our bed and just…ithink/i about how tight and form-fitting those uniforms are," Christine continued, a saucy look on her face. "Goodness knows ihow/i I'll pass the time, thinking about you both."
Her dirty grin let them know iexactly/i what she'd be doing when they were away on the planet below.
"Maybe," she said, extending a hand to Kirk, who took it and wrapped her arm around his waist, drawing himself into a three-way hug, "maybe I'll just have to show you what I was doing when you get back, and I can peel those uniforms off you piece by piece…"
Her teasing was stopped as McCoy tugged her into his chest and kissed her deeply. She hummed in pleasure, but was soon torn away as Kirk got into the action too. She was passed back and forth between her lovers until she got dizzy with the intensity of their kisses.
"So," she said eventually, when she got her breath back. "Isn't time you both were leaving?"
"Ah," said McCoy, his face flushing a little.
"Erm," Kirk said, glancing down at his pants and frowning.
"These pants really are tight," McCoy said apologetically.
"You can see everything," Kirk added, staring at McCoy's bulge and licking his lips.
"You really can," Christine said, grinning in pleasure.
She scrambled back onto their huge bed and settled herself in the middle of the bank of pillows.
"I guess I get a show tonight too," she told them, rummaging carefully in the box of chocolates for a raspberry cream. "Just be careful you don't crease your pants," she advised them, and lay back and enjoyed the show.