Things to do in sickbay before you die

When Kirk felt his molecules reintegrating after leaving the transporter beam, what he found around him wasn't the palace of the ambassador from Celes IV. He was still in the transporter room, on the Enterprise, and couldn't help but roll his eyes. Once again, they had problems with the transporter just when he had to attend an important meeting. Even though Scotty's tests, a few minutes ago, had shown that it was perfectly safe to beam down, even with that ion storm so close. In fact, Spock and McCoy were already waiting for him on the surface.

"Mr. Kyle, readjust the console controls and..."

At that moment, he realized that something strange was happening. The dark-haired man who raised his head from the console wasn't Mr. Kyle. And of course, his hostile look, and the shout he let out when he saw him, weren't appropriate to address his Captain.

"Kirk! How did you get here!? You're not allowed to beam yourself anywhere, without express orders from Admiral Spock!" And before Kirk was able to react, in the midst of his daze, the stranger opened the intercom on the wall. "Security, security to the transporter room! Kirk was trying to escape again!"

The aforementioned looked around, still not knowing if he was dreaming or not. This was the Enterprise, definitely.
And then he felt a chill, a terrifying premonition... and a strange cold in his arms. When he looked at himself, he realized with horror that, effectively, his formal jacket had become that revealing vest worn by his counterpart in the mirror universe. Once again, he had landed in that horrible dimension of violence and betrayal. And from the looks of it, the other Spock had wasted no time, and in the two years that had passed since they visited that world, he had put the other Kirk in his place.
A place that he had to occupy now, if he didn't want to raise suspicions, and that didn't seem very advantageous. And Kirk would soon discover just how much it wasn't so.
In the meantime, he couldn't do much more than wonder what had happened to his counterpart, and realize that he didn't have any weapons on him, before the security team burst into the room. Three men in red wearing that gaudy sash, and in front of them, Sulu. Or rather, the other Sulu.
It was shocking to glimpse that sadistic grin on a face that used to be so jovial. And the huge scar running across half his face.

"Aren't you supposed to be cleaning the core? It looks like this dog really needs to be on a leash..." mocked Sulu, with a sly smile. And with a wave of his hand, he sent the guards against him.

Kirk let them seize him without resistance, and meekly stepped down from the transport platform. Now he had to measure his words very carefully, so that his imposture wouldn't be discovered. If they did, they'd probably kill him on the spot. But how was this Kirk supposed to react? It had been much easier to impersonate him when he was also the Captain of his own starship. And he still didn't have enough data to understand exactly where he stood. But he couldn't seem mute either.

"I... I... I wasn't trying to escape. I just wanted to take a walk around the planet..." he stammered, as they pushed him down a corridor. He hoped there really was a planet down there, and what he had just said made some sense.

"A little pub crawl? Hahaha! You'll see enough of the planet in a few hours, Kirk." laughed Sulu "What I don't understand is how you got to the transporter room without anyone discovering you. Someone should seal those vents! I've told that idiot Scotty a thousand times."

Kirk let out an internal sigh; for the moment, they didn't suspect anything. His relief was short-lived, however, when he saw where they were leading him.
The guards pushed him into a cell that befitted more a medieval dungeon than a starship. And before Sulu's expectant gaze, they tore off his vest, made him kneel, and chained his arms to rings hanging from the ceiling.

"Okay guys, leave me alone with him." ordered Sulu, and the guards left. A few drops of cold sweat ran down Kirk's forehead, while the Chief of Security circled around him, announcing what he had in store for him: "I could have put you in the agony booth, you know? But the Admiral wants you ready for the ceremony shortly, and besides... I have a new toy that I want to try on you."

Sulu's black boots stopped before him, and his shining teeth entered his field of vision, in a smile of absolute evil. Kirk shuddered a little, and watched him walk over to some shelves in the back and grab something.
His captor tensed the whip before his eyes with a sharp jerk, and a few orange sparks fluttered over the surface of the instrument. He seemed to have put on a sort of black thermal gloves.

"My new electric whip. It opens the flesh while burning and cauterizing it. Perfect for a clean and quick torture, without too much blood. We don't want you to stain your dress uniform, right?" His laughter chilled the blood in his veins. And crouching down next to him, Sulu whispered in his ear: "I'm going to enjoy this much more than you. Oh yeah! Much, much more than you! Ten lashes, one for every time you've tried to escape so far. A fair deal, right?"

"Stop playing with me, and start once and for all." he mumbled. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him subdued.

"That's the spirit, Kirk! Keep it up… as long as you can."

Kirk gritted his teeth, bracing himself for what was coming. He had the determination to look strong. But at the first lash he let out a hiss of pain. It was like a current of intense stinging running down his back, and the stench of burning skin, his skin, assaulted his nostrils. By the fourth lash, his hissing had turned into cries of genuine pain. At the tenth lash, he let his head fall limply, dizzy from the unbearable burn on his skin. At least it had been quick.
Still laughing, Sulu unchained him, and Kirk fell to the ground exhausted. Incredible how his day had gone wrong in an instant.

"Get up, dog! I'll take you to sickbay so they can fix you up a bit. But I'm only doing it because Admiral Spock wants you presentable. If it were up to me, I'd leave you lying here for the rest of your days."

With a jerk, he pulled him to his feet and pushed him out of the cell. The guards, that waited outside while their boss was having fun, grabbed his vest and almost dragged him to see McCoy.
The other McCoy.

He hadn't come across that man the last time, but judging from what he had seen of that sickbay, Kirk didn't feel very lucky to visit the place. And McCoy didn't seem happy with their arrival either:

"What do you want now, dammit!? Coming here to burden me with more work?" he groaned, from behind his desk, where he had sat in front of a bottle of liquor. "I can't even have a drink in peace!"

"Will you shut up, sawbones!? You spend the whole time drinking, so it's impossible for your drink not to be interrupted at some point during the day. And stop complaining, if you don't want me to go over you with my whip too!" Sulu pushed Kirk inside, and threw his vest on a chair, before leaving sickbay with his men.

McCoy watched the Chief of Security as he disappeared through the door, a gleam of unmistakable hatred in his eyes. Or rather, in his eye. To Kirk's surprise, this McCoy was wearing an old-fashioned black eyepatch covering his left eye socket. And under it, he could glimpse a rather ugly-looking scar. The descriptions from his crew, who had met him the last time, didn't mention that the other McCoy was missing an eye then, or anything like that. But obviously, he too hadn't fared well under Spock's leadership.
Now that blue eye was fixed on his bare chest, and the Doctor smiled slightly, with an inscrutable expression.

"Well, let's see what that brute has done to you... And stop doing stupid things, Jim! By now, you should already know that there's no escape from this place." he laughed maliciously.

And with some difficulty, the doctor got up from the chair and limped towards him, signaling for him to sit on a bed. It was evident that every step he took caused him considerable pain. Another gift from the new regime?

"I wasn't really trying to escape. But you know me… McCoy." ventured Kirk, unsure how the other Kirk would address him. Were they even friends? Did friendship even exist in that universe?

"Oh! Do I know you, Jim? Not as much... Not as much as I would like..." he murmured, while he ran his fingers along the blackened grooves on his back, assessing the damage. "And why so formal all of a sudden!? Am I not even 'Bones' to you anymore? Meh, you were always an asshole, anyway!"

At least that answered some of his doubts. He had to get to know those people better if he wanted to mix among them, until he found a way to return to his own universe.
He was about to apologize, before remembering that his other self was a rather unpleasant man.

"Okay, 'Bones'! In case you couldn't tell, I'm having a bad day. I'm not interested in your stupid problems." he spat, with some contempt.

It wasn't easy for him to treat thus a man, who wore the face of one of his best friends, but he had to remind himself that this wasn't his real Bones.
McCoy shrugged, and hobbled to a shelf, probably filled with gruesome-looking medical instruments. Now that he could take a closer look at him, Kirk realized that he looked older than the real McCoy, even though in theory he would be the same age. Some gray hair graced his temples, and he was somewhat thinner. The limp had obviously worsened his posture as well, and he guessed it was a permanent injury.
To Kirk's relief, the doctor didn't pull out any of those torture instruments, just a bottle of pills. And they weren't for him. McCoy swallowed a handful without further ado, mumbling. And then he approached him with a bottle of burn ointment.
Sitting behind him, he began to spread the ointment on his back.

"This is going to sting, but fuck you. At least you won't have any pain in a couple of days."

His fingers ran over the whip marks. With surprising softness, almost taking delight in them. And at one point, he stroked his shoulders, even if Kirk was sure he had no injuries there. He felt a sigh of warm breath brushing the hair on his nape.

"Huh... Bones?"

The doctor jumped and moved away from him.

"Ah, that's... that's it!"

Kirk turned to him, his mouth twisting in annoyance, and grabbed his vest.

"If I understand correctly, you have to go to that reception charade with Spock in an hour..." continued McCoy, scratching his head. "Maybe... maybe you should shower first. You can use the shower in my cabin. You stink of sweat!"

"Yeah, I guess you've had a chance to smell me, right?" McCoy opened his only eye, surprised, and blushed a little. "I think I'll use my own shower, thanks."

"What did you say?" the doctor frowned. "Jim, you don't have a shower in that dump where you sleep! What the hell are you talking about!?"

Kirk bit his lip. Had he screwed up? Quickly, he looked for an excuse to fix it.

"Oh... eh... sure... I guess Sulu's torture has left my head a little groggy. Sometimes, I get confused and think I'm still the Captain! Heh, heh…"

"Well, don't get confused anymore! You're Spock's dog now... I mean, His Excellency Admiral Spock." he corrected, with sarcasm. "And be thankful that he lets you walk around some decks."

"Yeah. Although Sulu doesn't seem to like me moving too much."

"Ah, yes, that's true! If it were up to him, he'd have you always chained. But what do you want? He's the Chief of Security… Curse him!"

And grunting under his breath, McCoy accompanied him to his cabin. He limped a little less, so Kirk assumed the pills he had taken earlier were some kind of painkiller.
The Doctor sat on the bed waiting for him, while Kirk locked himself in the bathroom. But he didn't undress until he was sure that the other wasn't spying on him. He certainly didn't trust the man.
The warm water running down his head was a welcome relief. Although he was careful not to remove the ointment from his back.

Kirk emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, and McCoy rolled his eyes.

"I don't know what all the squeamishness is about, Jim. I'm your Doctor, I've seen you naked hundreds of times."

At that moment, the cabin door opened. And in the threshold appeared the imposing figure of the other Spock, in a dress uniform. Kirk felt himself dwarfed by the air of authority that emanated from him, and even though he had Spock's face, he couldn't help but lower his head. It wasn't just the beard, perfectly outlined, that made him different. There was something… something incredibly cold and cruel in his eyes.
McCoy jumped to his feet as he entered, almost losing his balance.

"Ah, oh... Admiral! I…"

Spock silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"No need to explain, Doctor. I've already been told that our boy misbehaved and he had to be disciplined. I knew he would be with you, either here or in sickbay."

"The wounds aren't serious at all." Murmured Kirk. Spock looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Had he talked too much in his presence?

"Those are fortunate news, Kirk. Report to the transporter room, along with the entourage, in about fifteen minutes. The Administrator of Celes IV awaits me." And turning to McCoy, he added: "I understand that you're not accompanying us, of course."

"No, with my leg..."

"It was a rhetorical question, Doctor." he snapped, with a tone sharper than a knife.

McCoy lowered his head, embarrassed, and Kirk followed suit for good measure. With that, Spock left the cabin.
At least, he now had an idea of where this Enterprise was: orbiting the same planet as his own ship, and with a similar mission. Although Spock had mentioned an administrator, not an ambassador. So Kirk understood that the situation under the Empire was very different.

Celes IV was a small M-class planet, with a civilization of little technological development. In Terran terms, Kirk would place it in the Middle Ages or the beginning of the Renaissance. The natives were humanoid, with purplish skin, and quite short compared to a man of average height.
Kirk was walking the streets of their main city now, chained behind Spock, and followed by the reception party and the security team. In total, about a hundred men.
The natives cheered and clapped as they passed, showing the greatest respect for Spock. From the looks of it, they were very happy under the Empire.
The only one they frowned upon and booed, was Kirk himself. And Spock must have noticed his discomfort, because at one point he leaned toward him and whispered discreetly:

"You know that I'm not fond of these rude exhibitions, all these theatrics, dragging you in chains behind me. But you're a symbol of the old Empire, and the natives like to see graphically that the new regime has changed. Especially on planets as backward as this one. You're the easy target, the logical objective at which to direct their anger, so that they remain content and complacent with the Empire. Don't take it personally against you, Kirk. I'm disappointed by those incapable of seeing things dispassionately."

Kirk pondered these words. Then, the change he had instigated in the other Spock the last time he was there, that desire to reshape the future… it seemed to have cut deep. And the changes hadn't been limited to the Enterprise's command, but they had spread throughout all the territories of the Empire. And they had been positive changes, judging by the effusive welcome. Therefore, he felt relieved.
It was true that the change had left him in a denigrated position aboard the ship. But if his function was to be displayed like a fair animal in those parades, this at least gave him a certain security: Spock wasn't going to kill him. At least not in the short term.

The parade took place without incident. Except for one of the natives, who began to shout in a strange language when he saw them passing by, gesturing violently. Was he protesting? It didn't last long, however, as the crowd gathered around him to silence him. And immediately, a group of imperial security made their way through the people, dragging the discontent away. Kirk never saw him again.
A pang of unease raised the hair on his nape. But it wasn't unusual to find such dissidents at any public event. He assumed it wouldn't matter much...
In front of them stood the destination of their retinue: the palace of the colonial Administrator. At the top of the stairs that led to the main entrance, they had erected a podium, so that the leaders could address the masses. There, the Administrator was waiting for them; one of the natives, but dressed in imperial uniform. Which made it clear that this planet was fully integrated into the structure of the Empire, unlike its equivalent in the normal universe, still in negotiations with the Federation.
Spock ascended the steps solemnly, and was greeted by the Administrator with a kind of bow. Then Spock turned to Kirk, his eyebrow raised in irritation, and with a tug on the chain, he made him fall to his knees at his feet.

"We're getting sloppy with the interpretation, aren't we, Kirk?" Spock whispered to him, running his hand over his head like a docile dog.

Kirk looked down, humiliated, and simply listened to the conversation. The Administrator dedicated a few flattering words to the Admiral, and updated him on the state of the colony, and the achievement of objectives: the economy was growing, hunger and crime were at historic lows, there had been no more revolts... The data was impressive. If all this was due to the reforms promoted by Spock, he wasn't surprised by all that flattery.
However, a certain question from the Admiral caught his attention:

"How many nullified this month?"

"About 125."

Kirk had a horrible foreboding. And the spectacle he witnessed next, only confirmed his fears.
Wishing to analyze the colony's procedures in more detail, Spock asked the Administrator to call forth all those designated for "Restructuring" that day.
First they called a group that the Administrator classified as "labor surplus." A motley crew of citizens, most looking like artisans, were relocated one by one to their new positions, under Spock's watchful eye. If, for example, there were two shoemakers in excess, according to the city's accounts, but there was a lack of peasants to till the land, two shoemakers were chosen and sent to the countryside. Even if they had never picked up a plow in their life (and this seemed to be the case). It may have been an efficient system, but it also seemed to Kirk very cold, and inattentive to individual aspirations.
Next, the group of "reproductive units" approached. These were all young and healthy, of both sexes. And after a quick inspection, the Administrator paired each man with several women, and assigned them the number of children each should father. Those in question accepted these instant marriages without complaint, and walked away, ready to start their new lives with perfect strangers. Kirk's stomach turned. He knew that the inhabitants of Celes didn't have such marriage customs in his universe. And he found it hard to believe that they were so different in this one. This seemed like an unnatural imposition of the Empire. They had no right to interfere thus in such private matters as a couple's love!
Finally, the Administrator made a call from the podium for the "obsolete". And then, a pitiful group of people hesitantly approached the steps. The elderly, men with crutches or pustules on the skin, mutilated people, even sick children. Some were shaking or crying. The Administrator simply signaled for his guards to lead them against a wall, which was built on a courtyard adjacent to the palace. With a shudder of horror, Kirk saw that the wall was dotted with red stains. And then Spock addressed the crowd:

"We should not regret the disappearance of these fellow citizens. It wouldn't be logical. Let us all remember that they're also providing an indispensable service to maintain order and prosperity in the Empire. May their sacrifice be a reminder that we're all wheels in the great gear." A cold tone, so cold…

Kirk squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the salvo of gunfire. And the sobs of the condemned became quiet at once. In the silence that followed, only his timid sigh of affliction was heard. Spock looked at him with a faint smile, as they entered the palace to the applause of the crowd, once the macabre ceremony was over.

"Any problem, Kirk? You look pale. You're more than used to these executions, why do you shake now?"

Kirk swallowed, making a tremendous effort to calm his nerves and stop the tears from gathering in his eyes:

"I don't care about those commoners, Admiral! The idea just came to my mind... that I may one day end up the same way. I was only thinking about myself."

"Don't worry. I have other uses for you… For now."

After this, there was a long reception and banquet at the palace, during which Kirk remained chained and seated on the floor. They brought him a bowl of water and food, just like an animal, but Kirk didn't touch them. Not just to preserve a shred of dignity. He simply wouldn't have been able to eat anything after that spectacle on the wall.
Spock… This was the world design to which his relentless logic had ultimately led him: a perfect world, efficient as a machine, and without the slightest hint of humanity. But was it he, Kirk, who had sparked that inspiration? When he told him that the old system couldn't last, was this the new world he had projected in his mind? Was it all his fault?
Back then, he had believed that this Spock was more similar to the real Spock. More humane, understanding and decent than the other members of the crew. But it hadn't occurred to him that this Spock, unlike the other one, had not developed a friendship with his Kirk or his McCoy. He didn't have those two emotional and compassionate forces, with which to temper his cold logic. Just like the other two hadn't had a Spock to calm their violent and self-destructive tendencies. It was a broken and deformed triangle. That's why nothing worked.
Overwhelmed by feelings of guilt, the reception seemed endless for Kirk. At last, it was time to return to the ship. And Spock was bidding farewell to the Administrator, when a call to his communicator interrupted the host's adulatory praise.

"Admiral?" a voice was heard, somewhat suffocated.

"This is Spock. It better be urgent, Ensign."

"Sir, there has been a small riot in the northern security sector, where my team is stationed! It has already been suppressed, but Security Chief Sulu is seriously injured in the arm."

"Understood. Have him beamed up to the ship's sickbay immediately. The rest of us will arrive shortly."

Spock slammed the communicator shut, and narrowed his eyes at the Administrator. The little man became even smaller under the sting of that look, and he only managed to stutter:

"I... I... I don't understand... A revolt? But it's been months since..."

"From what I can gather, you still have a lot of work to do in that area, Administrator. If we want order to truly triumph on this planet, as in the rest of the Empire. Do your job… Or face the consequences." He stretched his hand then, in the Vulcan salute, and added: "Live loyal, and die gloriously."

And with that, Spock called the transporter room, and the beam began to disintegrate him, his pet Kirk, and his praetorian guard. While the Administrator tried to say farewell between stuttering apologies, a nervous wreck, with his forehead covered in sweat.

Back on the ship, Kirk was led to his cabin: it was rather a renovated broom closet, with a simple bed and little else. He had no instructions, other than waiting there for any order from Spock, and perhaps take a walk around the few spaces of the ship that weren't off-limits to him. With such limited freedom of movement, he didn't know how he was going to return to his universe. Of course, he didn't have access to any type of weapons on board, so any confrontation was out of the question. "Spock's dog" summed up, in effect, his position on board.
At one point, he heard a great commotion in the corridor, and he peeked out to check what was happening. Several members of the security team were arguing heatedly with McCoy, who was removing his bloody gloves in front of sickbay. His cabin was too far away to hear the conversation well, but the name "Sulu" was constantly dropped. In the end, McCoy became furious and went back inside, closing the door in the guards' faces, who nevertheless kept banging for a while, insulting him. Kirk had to find out what had happened. And since visiting the Doctor was one of the few things he could do on board, he headed to his cabin after dinner.

He found McCoy dozing in front of his desk, and cleared his throat to get his attention. The Doctor jumped.

"Oh, Jim! I already knew you'd come. This is of interest for you…" And with a hand gesture, he signaled for him to sit opposite, while he rubbed his eye.

"What's going on with Sulu? I know something has happened."

McCoy showed a crooked half smile.

"Sulu has died."

"What!? But he only had a wound on his arm, and he was evacuated immediately! How could he have died from such a thing!?" Kirk was stunned.

Not even on the most primitive planets did people usually die from those kinds of injuries. But McCoy just shrugged.

"What do you want me to tell you, Jim? I had to anesthetize him because he wouldn't stop writhing in pain, and thus it was impossible to perform surgery. And he simply… couldn't stand the anesthesia and didn't wake up again." And giving him an eloquent look with his only eye, he added: "You don't have anything standing in your way now, right? You won't have to worry about Sulu watching your every step anymore. In a way, you owe me a favor, so I don't know what's bothering you."

"Are you implying that you... did this on purpose? Did you inject him with more anesthesia than you should have!?" Kirk narrowed his eyes, still not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

"Oh, Jim, please, you offend me! I'm not implying anything. I'm just telling you what happened. You know I'm a professional."

Yeah... If he knew something, it was that this McCoy was anything but professional. Quite the opposite of his twin from the normal world. He was certain the Doctor was lying, but he couldn't make him confess it either.
McCoy casually got up from the desk, and walked to a cabinet in the back, where he pulled out a bottle of liquor and a couple of glasses. With his back to him, he poured a glass for each of them.

"A little drink to celebrate?" he proposed, leaving a glass in front of him and sitting down again, with a pang of pain.

Kirk looked at the dark golden liquor. It was just plain old brandy.

"I don't know why you should celebrate anything..." he murmured, running his finger along the edge of the glass. "Did you hate Sulu that much?"

"It's astounding that you ask me such a thing!" snapped McCoy, his tone suddenly much more hostile. "After what that bastard did to me! Why do you think I go limping everywhere, and I'm hooked on narcotics!?"

Kirk shrank into his seat, and took a long drink of brandy to mask his nervousness. Was this something the other Kirk should have known?

"I had... I had heard something but... I didn't remember that it was Sulu's thing."

"Well yes! And all because of a stupid argument. That beast grabbed me and... A bad blow on the back, in a bad place. I guess I should feel lucky to be able to walk, even in pain, and not have to pee through a catheter." he growled, downing the glass in one gulp, and wiping on his bare forearm.

"You have to understand that for you, that day was a turning point. But for me it was just a normal day. No wonder I don't remember the incident." replied Kirk, in a fake nonchalant tone, despite how much he really disliked the matter.

"I knew you'd say something like that..." mumbled the Doctor. "But come on, finish your drink. I don't want to argue with you right now."

Kirk noticed a strange gleam in that blue eye, something like expectancy. And he emptied the glass in one sitting, in a gesture of calculated bravado.
McCoy was still staring at him, and from the way he played with his fingers on the table and bit his lower lip, Kirk guessed something was making him nervous. All that attention was disturbing to him, too:

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Oh! I wasn't looking at... your face." And the Doctor gave him a smile, between perverse and awkward.

Then, Kirk felt a burning in his stomach, as if the brandy didn't go down well. And he started sweating. It was hot in that cabin, very hot, even though the thermostat showed a normal temperature. He was suffocating, and even his open vest was beginning to become too much.

"Are you okay?"

"What... What was in that glass, Bones?"

Suddenly, Kirk felt the front of his pants much tighter. He was having an erection, in that place no less. Why now precisely!? He felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. In a few seconds, he was hard as a rock.
McCoy licked his lips, and stood up slowly. His single blue eye showed a decidedly dangerous… lustful gleam. Without further ado, he approached his chair, climbed it somewhat clumsily, and sat astride his lap. Kirk stifled a sigh as he felt the light weight of that slender body resting on his hard cock.

"That glass contained no more, no less than a powerful aphrodisiac that I bought during our visit to Argelius II. I had been saving it for months... for you." he whispered, putting his skinny, hairy arms around his neck. "And now is the perfect occasion to use it. You owe me a favor for Sulu's death (even if it was accidental, of course). And I have decided to cash in that favor with your body."

McCoy began to move his hips slightly on top of him, and Kirk moaned as he felt his warm genitals and ass rubbing against his cock. He was so horny, that for a moment... for a moment he could let that wretch rub himself a little.
Barely registering what he was doing, he found himself grabbing McCoy by the back, and moving his hand under his shirt. He just felt bulging vertebrae and the small bones of his ribs. Then he reached down his spine, grabbed his ass, and pressed it even tighter against his cock. McCoy was panting next to his ear.

"I had... I had waited so long for this moment..." he sighed, with broken voice and his eye closed. "I have spied on you, hundreds of times... Slammed against the wall, naked, while Spock possessed your body... That muscular, perfect body, so beautiful... And I wondered why I wasn't allowed to enjoy something like that. Why not me? Why couldn't I feel a moment of pleasure in the midst of daily pain? I was consumed with jealousy and... You can't imagine the things I've done alone while thinking about you..."

Kirk's brain was already half melted from the drug, and he was barely processing information. But Spock and his other self!? The image of doing something like that with one of his best friends scared him. And yet, here he was now, practically fucking his other friend through his clothes. Without realizing it, he had started pounding on him from below. And he kissed his neck, leaving a bite mark on his collarbone. McCoy embraced him even tighter, positioning himself so that Kirk's cock rubbed between his balls.

"You're manipulative and a pervert." snapped Kirk, his hips suddenly coming to a halt, which elicited a groan of frustration from the other man. "Why should I fuck a guy like you? What if I refuse!?"

The doctor shrugged his shoulders, in a gesture of false innocence.

"Oh! You can refuse, of course. You're much stronger than me, so it's not like I can force you. The effects of the drug will last a while, but you could go to your cabin and satisfy yourself. However, I had thought that perhaps… you'd consider me a slightly superior option to masturbation. Even if it's just a little..." McCoy placed a wet kiss on his throat, and moved Kirk's hand towards his chest, so that he could caress a nipple under his shirt. "Come on! I'm very submissive. You'll like it. You can do whatever you want to me, and I'll do whatever you ask of me. As long as my physical condition allows it, of course. Please stay…" There was an almost pathetic tone to his plea.

Kirk caressed his nipple, absentmindedly, and pinched it, causing his partner to flinch in pain. A little voice in his head told him that maybe he should do that. Gain an ally in that world, no matter how. He had done it many times, seducing enemies to achieve his plans. This was just another one of those situations, and it wasn't the first time someone had drugged him to get into his pants...
But a second little voice told him that, it was one thing seducing strange women, who meant nothing to him, and quite another to sleep with a man who was almost identical to his friend. Also, a dangerous man, possibly a murderer.
In the end it didn't matter. Both little voices sank deeper and deeper into his consciousness, and Kirk ended up not hearing them. Right now he wasn't thinking with his head, but with his cock. And the only thing his cock felt was the touch of that body, eager to give itself to him.

Suddenly, Kirk picked up McCoy in his arms and stood up from the chair. The Doctor didn't weigh at all, so he threw him on the bed without difficulty. McCoy bounced on the mattress, almost rolling over.

"Ouch! Be careful, Jim!" he complained.

But it was the only thing he could say before Kirk jumped on him, and began to remove his clothes.

"Are you... are you going to undress me completely?" muttered McCoy, somewhat self-conscious all of a sudden. "There's no need…"

"Shut up, Bones! If we're going to do this, let's do it right at least."

He first pulled his shirt over his head, then yanked off his boots and pants. Already completely naked, McCoy rubbed his arms, a bit cold (in this, he did resemble the real McCoy), and shrank a little, aware of his vulnerability. Kirk tried to remove his eyepatch, but McCoy jerked away from him.

"No, not that!" he said, lowering his head.

Kirk respected his wishes. Then, he proceeded to undress himself as well, and revealed his body in all its glory in front of the Doctor. He saw how the pupil of that blue eye dilated with arousal as he contemplated his naked body. And crawling to the edge of the bed, where Kirk stood, McCoy ran his hands over his stomach and climbed up to his chest.

"Perfection... Just like a Greek god." he whispered, adoringly. And grabbing his pectorals, he began to suck on his nipple, as if in desperation.

Kirk threw his head back with a murmur of pleasure, and stroked his hair. Pushing him down a little, he indicated where he wanted to receive his attentions, down there where his cock raised, swollen and twitching. He knew it was just the drug, but he needed relief right now. He couldn't wait any longer.
McCoy took the hint, and kneeling on the bed, he took the whole member into his mouth.

"Aaah, yes, that's better!" moaned Kirk, running his fingers through his bushy hair, and pushing him by the nape.

The Doctor's tongue ran over every inch of his cock reverently, sometimes giving him a lick on the balls, and his hands grabbed his buttocks, digging his fingers into him. Every time the grooves in the roof of his mouth rubbed against his glans, Kirk felt his legs failing him. In a few minutes, he was so eager that he began to thrust into McCoy's mouth, whom he had almost immobilized with his hands. Ignoring the Doctor's groans, Kirk quickened his pace, and soon after he felt his orgasm exploding in his lower abdomen, his semen spilling down the other man's throat. McCoy didn't complain, but simply swallowed all the fluid, even the one that had dripped out, and wiped his mouth on his forearm.
Kirk's breathing and heartbeat slowed as he enjoyed the last spasms of ejaculation. He felt partially relieved. But under the effects of the aphrodisiac, he knew that this was only the beginning.
McCoy looked up at him from below, doubtful.

"Did you like it?"

"Well... ugh! You're not bad at sucking it. But I'm not done with you."

Somewhat roughly, he threw him face up on the bed, and lay on top of him. Now that he had calmed down a bit, Kirk could take care of that other body as well. Despite everything, he didn't like to be selfish with pleasure.
Kirk put his arm around him and kissed his neck and Adam's apple, biting lightly. His tongue traced the line of his collarbone. He moved down his sternum, and felt the lumps of bone along the way, rising with his breathing. This McCoy was little more than skin and bones, and his ribs dug uncomfortably into Kirk's flesh. His chest showed multiple scars cutting through the skin, and hair much sparser than that on his arms. Aside from this, his breasts were all nipple, and no pecs. But at least his nipples were hard, and Kirk took one into his mouth with delight. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the Doctor's hands twitch and grip the sheets. And a little moan drew his attention to McCoy's face at that moment. Was this what his friend would look like too if he made love to him? So wanton and full of desire? Kirk preferred not to think about it. It was better if he kept seeing them both as two different people.

"You have sensitive nipples, don't you?" Kirk smiled, playing with his finger on the small nub.

"You have no idea... So don't pinch them!"

Kirk kissed it, and then bit it lightly, making McCoy wince and utter a "son of a bitch" under his breath. Then he ran his tongue along a raised scar next to his nipple.

"Well? Admiring your work?" mocked the Doctor. "You gave me that one, in case you don't remember."

"I don't remember. Sorry..." whispered Kirk, caressing the scar.

Next, he went down the slope of his diaphragm, and upon reaching his stomach, he noticed how the other man's breathing was quickening. Under his navel began a line of harsher, darker hair, which Kirk ran with his kisses, until finally getting lost in the thickness of his pubic hair.
Kirk probed with his tongue on the incipient erection, still timid despite all the stimulation received. Pulling back the foreskin a little, he tickled the glans with the tip of his tongue. McCoy made another one of those little noises, half moan, half whimper. And his legs contracted in a spasm. But he still wasn't fully hard, not even when Kirk took his entire cock into his mouth and started sucking.

"Ah, hmmm! Yes... shit...!" sighed McCoy, with his eye closed.

And yet, he still didn't get hard. Kirk tried caressing his balls a little while he continued sucking him. And although McCoy squirmed in apparent pleasure... still nothing.
Kirk became frustrated; until now he thought he was good at fellatio.

"What's wrong, don't you like what I'm doing to you?"

McCoy sat up a little, dizzy and wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Of… Of course I like it, idiot! Why else would I moan like that?"

"Because you're faking?" ventured Kirk, shrugging his shoulders.

"Do I look like a woman!? I'm not faking! It's just that... well... I have trouble with that matter." admitted the Doctor, looking away and blushing a little. "Not just because of damage to the nerve, but because of all the medication, you know… Do you mind if… I use some extra help?"

Kirk shook his head. And McCoy took out a bottle, full of an oily fluid, from a small box. He smeared his fingers profusely with the oil, and sat up a little higher, spreading his legs until he was comfortable. Then he penetrated his own hole with his index finger, and began to massage his prostate. His cock jumped and got a little harder, but not much harder.

"The power-on button doesn't work..." muttered Kirk.

"It's not that easy, you know?! It doesn't work miracles but... it's an additional stimulation."

Kirk's eyes were wide open. He had never seen anyone doing something so graphic right under his nose. Unlike the Doctor's, his cock did instantly become hard again, in a violent burst of lust. He buried his face in McCoy's crotch and started sucking him again, until in a fit, he too stuck his finger in. Once inside his body, he groped blindly, following the other finger to the place where he caressed the bundle of nerves.

McCoy threw his head back, resting on his forearm. He could hardly speak:

"Ah, aaah, shit...! It's... it's too intense. Ah!" He had to stop touching himself, and took out his finger with a somewhat abrupt "plop." It didn't matter much, because Kirk immediately replaced the missing finger with his middle finger. "No, Jim, no! Not so fast!"

Kirk was still fully under the effects of the aphrodisiac, and now it was starting to hit hard. He continued to penetrate him furiously with both fingers, while sucking his cock. Until Kirk couldn't take it anymore.
He separated from him, and lay on top of his body as long he was.

"I want to fuck you now."

McCoy hadn't caught his breath yet, and his eye had a glassy, dazed gleam.

"Well... Well, okay..." Kirk moved one of his legs backwards, and positioned his cock in front of the lubricated hole. The Doctor bit his lip with an expression of pain. "Not that leg, not that one! That's the one that hurts. Raise the other one!"

Kirk changed position, and before entering him, he whispered in his ear:

"You must be truly a pain addict, if you've dared to drug a man much stronger than you like this. I could wreck you, you know?"

"Then do it! What do I care? If I'm going to be limping, at least let it be because I've had a good cock in my ass." he replied, defiantly.

Kirk smiled; he recognized that sarcasm. And with one thrust, he penetrated him to the hilt. McCoy's face registered the full spectrum of emotions at that moment: from surprise, to disbelief, to a gasp of pain, to a sob of pleasure when he finally relaxed.
Kirk barely waited for that flesh to readjust around him before he began to thrust into him. He was too clouded by lust. And anyway, the good Doctor was already pretty wet and loose down there.
Kirk was barely aware of what happened next. He heard McCoy letting out little gasping screams, almost in fear. And he came once inside him. But he remained dissatisfied. Then McCoy came too. He felt the spasms of his orgasm, and his moans turned into whimpers of discomfort, as Kirk kept assaulting his over-aroused body. McCoy begged him to turn him over to reduce some of the friction and pain, and Kirk flipped him over, leaving him on his stomach while he continued fucking him from behind. Finally, with a cry of release, Kirk came one last time. And he took his cock out, collapsing on the mattress limply. McCoy rolled onto his back, shaking from head to toe. It took several minutes for both of them to catch their breath and for their heads to stop spinning.
The bed was completely unmade, so the Doctor took the sheet and put it over both of them, before he went cold. He then made a move to snuggle into Kirk's chest. However, the latter got up from the bed abruptly, and looked for his clothes to dress. Now free from the effects of the drug, and under the dawning light of common sense, Kirk was beginning to regret bitterly what he had just done.
McCoy watched him in silence, covered up to his chest, while his partner put on his pants and boots. He seemed kind of sad.

"I liked it. A lot." he admitted, quietly and sincerely.

Kirk huffed in exasperation and turned to him, vest in hand:

"Oh really!? Did you like that I almost abused you? That I treated you like a plaything?"

"Yeah. It's more than any of the bastards on this ship has ever done for me."

Kirk turned his back to him again, and shook his head.

"You're crazy! Not to say that drugging me like that to bed me wasn't very honest of you..."

"Honest… Did you just use the word 'honest'?" McCoy laughed behind him, and then added: "Now, tell me who you really are. You're not James Kirk. At least, not the James Kirk I know."

Kirk froze upon hearing these words. Very slowly, he turned and looked at McCoy in disbelief. He was giving him a triumphant smile, full of malice.

"How long have you known?" he finally asked, dryly.

"Oh! Since you took off your pants. You see, the real Kirk has a piercing on the tip of his dick, and a tattoo on his ass. Some nonsense in vulcan that Spock had him tattooed, to mark him as his property. You could have removed the piercing, of course... But the tattoo?"

Kirk bit his lip. So much effort to go unnoticed, and they discovered him for something like that! He cursed his stupidity a hundred times. It never occurred to him that there might be physical differences with his double, and that McCoy, as the ship's Doctor, would notice immediately.
The other man, for his part, seemed to find the whole thing very amusing.
Anyway, there was no point in pretending any longer:

"It's true. I'm not the Kirk you know. But I'm James Kirk. Do you remember that time when our two universes intertwined, and you ended up on my ship, and we ended up here?"

"Aaah, yes, of course I remember! Of course." McCoy raised his eyebrows, and twisted his face in a grimace: "Although I didn't see much of your world, apart from the brig. But I remember that you were all softies. So... has there been an exchange again?"

"Yeah. There was a transporter malfunction while we were going through an ion storm, just like last time. I imagine your Kirk is now on my ship."

"I don't know... I'm not aware of having been through one of those storms recently. Also, our Kirk is not allowed to use the transporter. So I have no idea where he is..." McCoy didn't seem to give much importance to the matter. Reaching out his arm, he picked up a small packet next to the headboard, and lit one of those cigarettes that used to be smoked on Earth a couple of centuries ago. He offered him one, but Kirk shook his head: "Of course! I should have assumed that you don't smoke in that sissy universe of yours..."

His eye scanned him intently, as he puffed out smoke, thoughtful. From the looks of it, the fire sensor was disconnected.

"Well, and now that you know the truth, what do you plan to do with this information?"

McCoy didn't answer immediately, wallowing in the uncertainty of his victim. Seeing him there, smoking in bed, it would seem that he believed himself to be one of those "femme fatales" from classic movies.

"I won't do anything." he finally said, putting out the cigarette in an ashtray. "I can keep your secret. In exchange for a price, of course." And he winked at him; a somewhat strange gesture, considering that he only had one eye.

Kirk could imagine what that price was... But an immense wave of relief washed over him, when he realized he wasn't going to betray him. At least for now.
McCoy stretched, satisfied, and pulling back the sheet, he sat on the edge of the bed, naked as he was. At once, he felt a rush of pain down his spine, and he shuddered.

"Ugh! I'm broken. I think it's time for a 'tonic'…" he complained, and took out a syringe and a vial from a nearby drawer.

Kirk watched him injecting the substance into his arm. It was one of those old hypodermic needles, not even a hypospray.

"What's that?"

"A derivative of morphine, nothing else."

"Does it hurt you that much?"

McCoy shrugged.

"Yes... No... I don't know, really. Anyway, I'm hooked on this shit..." Kirk looked at him with pity, and McCoy lowered his head, ashamed of his fragility. "The other McCoy... is he also like me? You know what I mean…"

"No, he's in good health. And he has no vices, apart from an occasional drink. Our medicine is much more advanced, and of course, we stopped using substances like morphine a long time ago. If you were there, they could probably cure you. Maybe not the eye, but everything else."

"But I'm not there! It's the other one who's there, right? It seems very unfair..." he growled, and his eye flashed with resentment. "Well, I'm not surprised, after all. The Empire has never held medical developments in high esteem, nor has it invested any budget in it. Medicine is for the weak; the strong heal by themselves, and here only the strong count." He looked at his body, and only then did he realize the state he was in, with a start of disgust: "Eww! I have to take a shower, and so do you!"

Kirk agreed; he had dressed too quickly. Leaning over McCoy, he took his arm to help him to his feet.
At that moment, the door to the cabin opened suddenly, and Nurse Chapel burst into the room without further ado.

"Ah, what the hell...!?" shouted the Doctor, quickly covering himself with the sheet and turning red with anger and embarrassment. "Who gave you permission to enter here, Chapel!?"

"Eeew! What a sight..." she groaned, rolling her eyes and twisting her mouth. "Doctor, if you're done with your fucking, you might be interested to know that Admiral Spock wants to talk to you tomorrow at relief, to clarify what happened today with Sulu."

"And you couldn't tell me that over the intercom!?"

"Believe me, after what I've seen, I deeply regret not having done so." she replied, with sassiness.

That Chapel only resembled the original in her physique. And it was a physique that she made sure to show as much as possible, with a top that left little to the imagination and a very, very short miniskirt. If the other Chapel was all modesty and shyness, this one seemed like a consummate seductress.
Kirk felt a little self-conscious as the woman looked him over.

"You have to be a real little slut to sleep with this guy." she told him, approaching him sensually. "He's a dirty old man, you know? He does nothing but looking at my cleavage!"

"Perhaps, if you didn't wear a cleavage down to your navel and stopped putting your boobs in my face all the time, I wouldn't look at it!" sputtered McCoy.

But the Nurse's attention was still riveted on Kirk, and his still naked chest:

"Such a shame... Anyway, if you get bored of fucking this old man, you know where to find me, darling." Chapel smiled at him, and patting his ass, she left the cabin with a sway of her hips.

"Wow!" huffed Kirk, red as a tomato, when the woman left. Against a Chapel like that, the Spock he knew wouldn't stand a chance.

"Damn bitch..."

Kirk returned to McCoy, who was slapping the sheet away, cursing under his breath.

"Won't you have problems because of Sulu?" he asked him, somewhat worried.

"Nah! They don't have any evidence against me. Interrogation is just a routine procedure. If Sulu wasn't able to withstand surgery, it will only be because he wasn't strong enough. And therefore, he had to be replaced in his functions. They'll rule something like that, they always do." McCoy smiled with some bitterness. "They don't like weak people around here. And if Spock keeps me alive, it's only out of respect for the old times, and the years we served together. I guess I'm to him like those abandoned dogs that are taken care of out of pity. But it's a matter of time before he eliminates me too..."

"Spock… You previously dropped that he and the other Kirk are lovers. What if Chapel tells him what she's seen here?"

McCoy waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about that! Spock isn't jealous; jealousy is an illogical emotion for him, of course. All he wants is for Kirk, the other Kirk, to be aware that he's ultimately the property of Spock and him alone. Otherwise, he lets him sleep with whoever he wants. But there's something else you should worry about..." McCoy continued, in a somber tone: "What do you think will happen when Spock asks you to sleep with him? If I have noticed that you're the counterpart and not the original, rest assured that Spock will notice immediately. And he will kill you, of course."

Kirk froze. It was true; in that universe his days were numbered. He had to escape from there as soon as possible, and the stopwatch had already started counting down. He walked over to McCoy and put his hand on his shoulder.

"You have to help me get out of here! I know almost nothing about this universe, and how to navigate it. Furthermore, my movements are limited. You have to be my ears and my eyes (or at least, my eye)." he caressed his shoulder blade a little, and with his best charming smile he added: "Will you help me… Bones?"

The Doctor looked at him from below, hesitant, and for a few seconds he just enjoyed the caresses on his back. Kirk was smart, very smart, and manipulative when he wanted to be. Finally, with a snort, he answered:

"I don't know if it's just because of the morphine, but alright! I'll help you! Now let's go to the shower. And don't you dare try anything dirty with me! I'm exhausted."

While the water fell over their heads, and safe from prying ears, Kirk caught up on what had happened on the I.S.S Enterprise, since the last time he visited.
Marlena Moreau was no longer on board. As the "Captain's woman," she had been left without a job with the change of command, as Spock had no interest in her at all. Now she worked on a space station.
Regarding the Tantalus field, Spock had destroyed it, after harnessing its power to strip the other Kirk of his rank and privileges. Logically, he didn't want to suffer the same fate as his predecessor, and succumb to the same weapon that gave him power. That was what set Spock apart from other tyrants, and what made him so dangerous: Spock learned from other people's errors, and never made the same mistake twice.

There were still many things Kirk wanted to ask, but he noticed that the Doctor's strength was failing, and he was about to fall asleep standing up in the shower. He caught him before he fell to the floor, turned off the water, dried him with a towel, and carried him to bed. Shortly after tucking him in, he noticed that he had fallen asleep, in a heavy narcotic slumber. He must have been truly exhausted. He was still wearing the eyepatch, which he hadn't even removed in the shower, but Kirk didn't want to go against his wishes by removing it for sleeping.
He stayed for several minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into empty space, trying not to think about the dilemma in which he found himself. But he had nothing else to do there, so he turned off the light and returned to his own cabin.