Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I own nothing interesting. All I've got is my bones, must be why I like McCoy so much.
AN: McCoy breaks a rule and Kirk is not pleased.
Through A Mirror Darkly
Teris Xenite
McCoy experienced a sense of disorientation the next morning when he woke. There was a warm body pressed against him, and he could tell that his body was going to protest loudly when he tried to rise. He'd used muscles that he didn't even know that he had last night, and felt his face heat as he remembered the previous night's events. Kirk had been true to his word. He had made him scream, had made him beg, and to his great shame had made him come with such frequency that his dick was sore this morning from the stimulation.
He shifted a bit and felt the stiffness that was to be expected after having spent hours with his arms bound above his head. He had to admit that Kirk had taken care with that aspect though, periodically testing to insure that his extremities hadn't lost circulation due to the bonds he'd used. His throat was scratchy from the screaming, moaning, and growling he'd engaged in. And his wrists and ankles bore slight abrasions from his struggles while Kirk had fucked him.
His neck was littered with bite marks, and hickies, almost all of which would be visible while wearing his uniform. He shuddered remembering Kirk's ultimatum the night before. Now Bones, I intend to let other people know that you're mine. I can either do that with these, or I can slap a collar and leash on you and parade you through the ship. Now which will it be? Bones shuddered, and had allowed himself to be marked in a less embarrassing, but no less obvious way.
When the evening's festivities had wound to a close, he had made to go back to his quarters, only to be grabbed by the arm as he started to get out of bed. Oh no, you're not going back to you quarters. You're going to stay right here. A warm arm had looped itself around his shoulders, effectively pinning him. This led him to his current state, hemmed in by a warm body and trying to process just what had happened the night before.
It wasn't moonlight and roses, but truth be told, if he'd gotten that from Kirk he may have died from shock. Unexpectedly the man had been true to his word in Med Bay. He hadn't hurt him, there were some lingering discomforts remaining this morning, but he hadn't been hurt. Embarrassed, yes. Frustrated, yes. Hurt, no. There had even been pain, but nothing that lingered more than a bit of residual soreness that would likely be repaired by a warm shower.
"Now what pray tell has that look on your face this early in the morning?"
"Just not a morning person."
"A nice hot shower and some breakfast should fix that." McCoy grumbled as Kirk manhandled him in the shower. When Kirk added a few new love bites under the warm spray, and his soapy hands proceeded to wander over pertinent bits of Bones' anatomy, McCoy didn't complain. The rest of the morning's preparations were undertaken with a sense of pleasant lassitude, and in relatively short order they were dressed for the day.
"Come on McCoy, I'll buy you breakfast." McCoy blushed as he took in the unmistakable evidence of the night's activities that were exposed by his uniform. Seeing McCoy's blush and intuiting the reason for it, Kirk smirked. "That's right, it's time to let the crew know about our little arrangement. These speak rather nicely for themselves don't they?" Kirk backed him into the wall, and engaged him in a fiercely possessive kiss. "By the end of this day everyone on this ship is going to know that you belong to me."
McCoy found it interesting that Kirk kept manically stating what both of them already knew. "You're enjoying saying that aren't you?"
"You could say that. Look at it this way, at least people will show up for their appointments without you having to bitch." At his questioning expression Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Come on Bones, would you piss me off to ditch a hypospray?"
"Don't suppose that will increase my chances of getting you to Med Bay in a timely manner?"
Kirk rolled his hips against McCoy's with a motion that screamed carnal sin, and replied. "I don't know, maybe if we work on your bedside manner. Think of all the fun that we could have in Med Bay, you've got medical restraints, stirrups, catheters. Do you really want me to come to Med Bay, Bones?"
"Catheters are not sexy damn it."
"No, but it did keep you from pestering me to come to Med Bay. I'll come when I need to. Besides, you'll be seeing a lot more of me off duty now. I'm sure somewhere between the sex and blow jobs that you'll find the time to continue sticking me with the plethora of hyposprays that you're so fond of. In the meantime, I can hear your stomach from here. Let's go grab breakfast shall we?" McCoy glared but nodded, and the two of them proceeded to head to the communal mess.
McCoy tried to ignore the looks that he was receiving as he walked a half step behind the Captain. He heard the shocked whispers as people accurately assumed that he'd warmed Jim Kirk's bed last night. In the time that Kirk'd been Captain of the ship, he'd had numerous flings on various and sundry planets, and while it was rumored that he had been involved with members of his crew, none of them had ever been confirmed. And of course no one would have the courage to ask directly.
As the two sat McCoy did his level best not to wince as the position caused an intimate twinge in remembrance of his activities the previous night. McCoy realized that Kirk had punched in a breakfast order for both of them, and bit his tongue not to snipe that unlike the twits that the Captain normally fucked he had enough brain cells to read, and could order his own breakfast thank you very much. Considering the fact that there were multiple people watching, he wasn't going to risk it, he doubted that the Captain would be nearly as forgiving of the sarcasm when there were witnesses present. Yeoman Rand brought over their trays, and McCoy raised an eyebrow at the sheer volume of food that Kirk had requested. "Trust me, you had a very vigorous night, you're going to need a lot more than your typical 'healthy' breakfast."
Rand obediently stood by the Captain's side where he pulled a pocket scanner and checked both plates for unknown substances, poisons, and allergens. When the scanner indicated that the plates were clear, Kirk gestured to Rand. "No poison this time, much better. You're learning." He dismissed her with a wave and gestured for McCoy to begin his meal. Somewhere between taking the lid off his eggs, and picking up his coffee cup, McCoy wasn't sure which, Kirk heard something that bothered him.
A few seconds later a knife flew at Kirk from behind, McCoy shouted out a warning, but Kirk had already been in motion. He had his assailant pinned, even more quickly than he had McCoy the night before. The young man, an Ensign by the looks of it, was on his stomach with Kirk straddling his back and pulling his arms behind him. "Now Ensign, I'll give you credit, you've got balls. But that was just sloppy. There is no room for sloppiness on my ship. Am I understood?"
A sharp twist to the boy's arm had him gasping, and McCoy winced as the loud popping of a shoulder coming out of joint was heard across the mess. "I said am I understood Ensign?"
"Yes, yes sir." The boy stammered pain leaching into his voice.
"Good. Mister Chekov, please escort this moron to interrogation. "Punishment is to last a week, nothing irreparable, and nothing fatal. Otherwise, I'll allow you your discretion."
"Aye aye sir." With that Kirk sat down, rescanned his meal in case it had been poisoned in his absence, and then picked up his coffee cup. He then calmly engaged McCoy in a discussion about the supplies that needed to be requisitioned for Med Bay. McCoy for the most part tried to ignore the growing unease that he felt, and the strong sense of oh my god what have I done.
ISS Enterprise
Med Bay 1200
McCoy looked down at the dying creature in front of him. He and his staff would be hard pressed to save this one, and the prognosis was looking grim for the rest of his group. One side of a local faction had prostrated itself to the Empire, and were willing to pledge both a large percentage of their crop yields, which would be impressive enough. To sweeten the deal they'd promised the prisoners from the rival faction as slaves to the Empire. You couldn't tell the difference between factions when they were bleeding out though, and freedom or slavery was still a better outcome than dead.
As the one in front of him coded he cursed, called time of death, and with a quick change of gloves was on to the next critically ill being. He wasn't even sure what they were called, but their insides were human looking enough. Their blood was slightly less viscous, and smelled a little odd, but it none the less stained him up to his elbows in crimson. It was, he admitted to himself, going to be a very long day. He sighed and continued trying to salvage the remains of relatively senseless conflict, and lost himself in the rhythm of staunch, sterilize, and stitch.
ISS Enterprise
Bridge 2400
Kirk rubbed the back of his neck. He could easily decimate a population. He'd done it. Granted it was easier when the creatures that looked like lizards instead of humans, but despite the humanoid appearance, these creatures were simplistic enough mentally to justify elimination. It was a kindness in a way, they were doomed to a life of bare subsistence, superstition, and war otherwise. It would be by most of the data that he was aware of at least a millennium before these creatures reached what could be considered a civilized state.
While there was less call for it in his line of work, he was good at diplomacy. He was one of the best at bullshit and chicken, both of which were main components of diplomacy. He could convince people of his points quite well, for example convincing the Admiralty not to execute Spock for his actions in the Nero situation. The defense that he'd offered had served a twofold purpose, one it got him a kick ass first officer, who had no desire to advance to a more likely to be assassinated position, who was good enough at defending himself that he didn't have to worry about people making it into the position. Secondly, it placed the remainder of the Vulcan counsel farther into his debt.
While he had both of these skills in spades, rapidly cycling between the two of them was taxing. He'd negotiated with the side that had pledged allegiance to the Empire and threatened the side that opposed the Empire. And damn if he didn't have to check the color of the shirt that the leaders were wearing on video conferences to be able to tell them apart. The fighting was bloody, the negotiations thorny, and after sixteen hours of it he was tempted to blow the planet to hell and call it a day.
He left the con to Spock, who was looking smug about a Vulcan's ability to go without sleep as Kirk couldn't help an involuntary yawn. He walked into his quarters expecting to find McCoy asleep already. He found instead that the room was dark, and the bed was untouched. He went and took a shower to get rid of the pounding headache that was plaguing him. After allowing himself an indulgently long shower he toweled himself off, and got dressed in his casual clothes. Then he proceeded to look for McCoy.
He could have easily found him utilizing the ship's computer, but after a long day he felt like taking a walk through his ship. He took a leisurely stroll down to McCoy's quarters, only to find them very dark. He took a stroll down to the communal mess, grabbed himself a snack, and taking a moment while there to leer at Uhura. There were no teeth to it however, as he generally avoided poaching from people who could potentially best him in combat.
After McCoy's quarters and the mess, he traveled through the observation deck. It was a highly unlikely location to find the good doctor given his fears. That is unless he was avoiding Kirk, in which case he probably would have been in the last place that he could be expected to be. This bore no fruit, and so he headed down to engineering, thinking that the doctor might have wanted a nightcap from Scotty's still. Well, actually the hypothetical still, the one that he didn't know anything about so long as a non-poisoned bottle of the brew from each batch made its way to his quarters. When that proved futile he decided to check on what he considered to be a long shot. There was no way that McCoy was still in Med Bay, not this late. A check of the closest data point to him revealed that it was approaching 0200, which would place McCoy in Med Bay for twenty hours.
Med Bay 0220
McCoy finished work on his current patient. The creature was stable now and stood a good shot at surviving. He stepped back removing his gloves and wiping his brow, looking around for his next patient. He started when he saw Kirk staring at him intently from the wall. "Captain, what brings you here?"
"How long have you been here?" The statement was casual, and gave McCoy no clue to the level of annoyance that he felt at McCoy's disregard for sane work hours. These creatures weren't worth him running himself into the ground, and he damn well wanted the ships best surgeon rested in case a member of his crew needed attention, not burnt out on charity cases.
"Since this morning, it's my job remember?" McCoy was confused. They had made no plans, and he'd been given no orders to be in a specific place this evening. Surely if Kirk had expected him, he'd have told him.
"Are you aware of what time it is McCoy?" This statement utilized the tone of voice that the Captain reserved for particularly slow diplomats, and the occasional childlike race that required explanation not extermination.
"Sometime into Gamma shift I'd imagine, why?"
"So you've been here for more than twenty hours?" McCoy nodded, and Kirk glared. "And from what I can gather you haven't taken more than a five minute break during that time, and haven't eaten since breakfast with me at 0700 yesterday. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Did I not clearly explain that if you endangered your well being in any way that you would be punished?"
"It was necessary. Those people needed help."
"I'll determine necessity here. You have a full medical staff Doctor. Are they incompetent?"
"What? No, of course they aren't."
"Then why pray tell did you find it necessary to work more than twice the allotted shift, depriving yourself of sleep, and skip meals for the entirety of this period?"
"I lost track of time, there were so many."
"And while you were working yourself to the point of exhaustion, you had staff members who were off duty that could have been recalled. Why did you not do so?" There was a moment of silence. "You didn't think about that did you?" He walked over and stroked McCoy's cheek. "I told you that if you neglected to take proper care of yourself, that you would be punished." McCoy started to protest, to bring up the fact that a larger number of the creatures would have died had he not been there, but Kirk forestalled his comments with a hard look.
"There will, I acknowledge, be times in which you literally are too busy to eat, or too overworked to sleep. I am not completely unreasonable. I won't punish you for that which you really can't help. But this was not unavoidable. There were steps that you could have taken that you did not. Because of that you are going to be punished. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
McCoy felt a sharp slap to his ass, and was glad that Med Bay was mostly deserted at this hour. "Yes what?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Now turn over your duties to the doctor who should be working this shift and be in my quarters in twenty minutes. Your punishment will increase for every minute that you are late. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir." He turned, only to be stopped by Kirk's voice.
"Oh McCoy, it's only fair to point out that should I have to come down here again tonight, I'll administer your punishment in the middle of Med Bay. Do I make myself clear?"
McCoy shuddered at the idea of being humiliated in front of his staff, and discredited in front of his patients. "Yes sir, I understand."
Captain's Quarters 0250
Kirk sat waiting for McCoy, feeling his annoyance growing with each passing minute. He really had been looking to a shower, a nice meal, some slow sensual sex with McCoy, and then a good night's sleep. Instead, because his doctor couldn't delegate, and couldn't stand to leave a patient waiting, he had to track down his bed mate, and now was going to have to administer McCoy's first punishment far earlier in their arrangement than he'd intended. He'd hoped that they'd have a few more meltingly hot encounters first, so that McCoy wouldn't pout so much after he punished him.
He was in no mood to enjoy turning McCoy ass a rosy red hue, but a rule had been broken and first times set precedent. If he wanted McCoy to take him seriously, he had to punish him as he'd said that he would. Still, he could be put out by the fact that the doctor's timing was abysmal. On another night the feeling of McCoy writing on his lap while he paddled him would have been too hot for words. He looked over at his chronometer. Already five minutes late. What am I going to do with you McCoy? If I didn't know better I'd swear that you were pushing me on purpose.
McCoy finally arrived eight minutes over the mark that Kirk had set for him. He walked into the quarters not looking anywhere nearly contrite enough, and Kirk felt his hand tingle, the urge to set McCoy's ass ablaze rising. However now that the crisis had passed McCoy looked dead on his feat, and Kirk wasn't sure if punishing him now would have the desired effect.
McCoy stood there uncertain as to what he was supposed to do, and wavering visibly on his feet. After a few moments to allow McCoy to feel his displeasure via a cold stare that was miles away from the lustful one that he'd graced him with the previous night, Kirk commanded casually. "Strip." McCoy did so woodenly, blushing under Kirk's relentless stare, and shuddering a bit as his skin was exposed to the cold air.
When McCoy was naked, Kirk stood, and walked around McCoy consideringly. "Put your dirty clothes in the hamper, and then go wash that alien filth off." The impatient tone of Kirk's voice indicated that the shower should be a quick one, and so even though McCoy would have liked to have hidden in the shower from his Captain's wrath he knew that it would be an exceedingly bad idea. And in short order McCoy stood in front of him, delicious looking despite his fatigue, clad only in a towel around his waist, and glistening with stray water droplets. Kirk reached out and snagged the towel with one hand and yanked it free. "I don't recall telling you that you could cover yourself."
McCoy blushed again at the sudden unveiling, and Kirk once again found himself intrigued by how shockingly modest McCoy was. Kirk gestured to the table. "I have no intention of letting you starve, even if it's through your own stupidity. Your dinner is on the table. I'd suggest that you eat it." Approaching the table McCoy found that he did indeed have dinner waiting. Several of his least favorite things as a matter of fact, based on information culled from both years of cohabitation, and Kirk's chat with McCoy's mother. Despite this Kirk was mildly pleased to note that McCoy didn't balk, even managing the brussel sprouts that he so despised without complaint.
When he'd finished McCoy looked over at Kirk, who's unrelenting stare had followed his every movement. "Get on the bed." McCoy gulped, but went over to the bed. Kirk walked over, shedding clothes as he went before sliding naked into bed beside McCoy. Instead of the embrace that had been offered the night before, he left McCoy his space, which only served to make him more aware of his naked state. "Tonight you are to think about why I am angry with you, and what you could have done to keep this situation from occurring. I will punish you in the morning."
With that Kirk dimed the lights, and turning away from McCoy went to sleep. This left McCoy to curl upon himself due to his discomfort with his own nudity, and the cool temperature of the room. As McCoy shivered, he wondered why precisely it mattered so much to Kirk that he'd worked a double shift. It's not like he'd hurt anyone. And so what if he forgot to eat. Missing a meal or two wasn't going to hurt him. Not in the long run. So why was Kirk so blasted concerned. The last person who'd harped upon him so incessantly to get enough sleep and eat at regular intervals had been his mother, and he knew damn well that the last thing that Kirk felt for him was paternal affection. Finally the stress of the day caught up to him, and he fell asleep considering the ramifications of why he was facing punishment the next morning.
AN: I'll be out of town for a bit, and internet connections will be spotty. So this may be the last chapter for a little bit. If ya'll enjoyed it let me know. Thanks for reading.
Next Chapter: Kirk puts McCoy over his knee.
