It was sort of like being drunk, because somewhere in the back of his mind Jim knew that this was a bad idea and that he would regret it in the morning, but he just didn't care. And, looking around the room at Scotty, lying on his back staring up at his own hands; Sulu, who kept reaching out to pat Chekov’s hair; and Uhura, who had crawled into Spock’s lap, and was trying lick his neck – and Spock wasn’t exactly stopping her - he guessed that everybody else was more or less in the same boat. He wasn’t sure what the hell had been in that Nttán drink - or maybe it was the flowers, thick bouquets of yellow and violet things that gave off an itchy yellow dust – but definitely, something was rotten in the state of Denmark.
Jim giggled, and was surprised to hear it turn into a hiccup. Next to him, the Nttán Ambassador looked perturbed. At least, Jim guessed it was a perturbed look, it was a little hard to tell with the eyebrows going this way and that.
“You have very pretty eyebrows,” he told the Ambassador. “I want to stroke them.”
The Ambassador looked at his attaché, who shrugged. “My apologies, Captain,” he said. “The Ttálan ceremony is designed to create an atmosphere of harmony and trust among its participants, but I believe it has had an unanticipated effect on your species.”
“You really aren’t my type,” Jim tried to explain, running his hand lingeringly down the Ambassador’s arm. “However, I like your eyebrows, and I’m curious to know what you look like under those robes.”
He was a little surprised at himself, as he remembered vaguely making a rule about not sleeping with diplomats during delicate negotiations, unless they were very, very attractive.
The Ambassador gently pushed his hand away. “Captain, I believe you are unwell. We will communicate with your ship’s healer, but in the meanwhile perhaps you and your crew can wait here.” He turned aside to his aide again, who mumbled something about, “time for the n’ai’la to clear their system.”
“I’m sad that you won’t wait with me,” Jim told him gravely. “But all right, as long as Bones is coming.”
The Ambassador promised him. Then the Nttáns filed out of the room, taking their drink and their peculiar flowers away with them.
Uhura was trying to take her shirt off, and she was mumbling incredibly dirty things to Spock. “I like it when you fuck me,” she said. “I wish you would do it in public.” Spock moaned in response. He actually seemed even a little more out of it then the rest of them, Jim realized. His eyes were totally glazed over.
Uhura realized that he was looking at them. “What?” she asked Jim. “You can watch if you want. That would be sort of hot. You can all watch,” she added to Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty magnanimously.
“Thank you,” Chekov said worshipfully. Scotty turned his head to the side so that he could get a view of Uhura’s knockers. He massaged the air with his hands, as if he could feel them. Uhura’s confidence seemed to grow even more with the attention.
“Have you done it?” she asked Jim.
“What, have sex in public? Sure, but it’s not really my thing.”
“Uh. Hand holding. You know, like walking around together…”
“Uh huh,” Sulu sounded skeptical. “You know what I want to do? Push the hilt of my sword up a guy’s ass.”
Chekov ‘s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.
“I’ve done that, too,” Kirk informed them. “Don’t worry, not with your sword! Actually it was a ceremonial hunting blade, that’s more like a knife I guess. And she stuck the hilt up my ass, not the other way around.”
“Was she hot?” asked Scotty.
Kirk shrugged, he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t really into it in the first place; he thought the girl might have been trying to impress him. “When is Bones getting here?”
“You know what I like?” Scotty asked. “Bosoms. Yours are ok, Uhura. But I mean like,” he shook his head for emphasis, “big knockers. The kind you can stick your whole face in.”
“Me too,” Chekov said, dreamily. “I like breasts, and, uh, sex. I really want to have sex. Not with you,” he added, to Sulu, who frowned. ”With a lady.”
“I want to have sex with a lady who has more than two bosoms,” Scotty said. He started outlining boobs with his hands, a set of two and then two more sets. “Are there any species like that?”
“Cats,” Sulu pointed out.
Scotty considered that for a moment.
“How many, ah, beings have you been with?” Chekov asked Jim. “I have been with zero.”
Jim thought for a moment. “I’m haven’t been keeping track… In some cases I’m also not sure what gets classified as sex.”
“Men or women?”
“Seven guys,” Sulu admitted.
“Three wonderful ladies,” Scotty sang under his breath. “And of course that robot lady we made on Delta Vega.”
“Six,” Uhura trilled. “Although I’ll go up to seven if I can ever get this guy to agree to a threesome.”
Spock didn’t participate in this little poll, but that wasn’t big a deal, because Jim was already pretty sure the answer would be ‘one’.
“What about you, Spock? Since we’re all sharing here, what do you like in bed?” Sulu asked.
Spock looked at them blankly. His hand was resting inside Uhura’s shirt, which between the two of them they’d only managed to wrestle to a sort of half-on, half-off position, one arm free and one entangled. “That expression… implies…” he paused. “I am not…” he cocked his head and lost track of the sentence. Despite Uhura’s intense effort, he seemed only half awake.
“I don’t think Spock’s doing so good,” Jim decided.
“I really, really want him to talk dirty in bed,” Uhura said. “Or maybe spank me. But he’s terrible at that kind of stuff. He’s good with raw animal instinct and passion, but he doesn’t talk much during sex or do role-playing.”
“You don’t need to sleep with him to guess that,” Jim yawned.
“I would do Spock,” Sulu declared.
“I wanted to have sex with Irina Sedorov,” Chekov whined, “but she only let me get to second base.”
“Sometimes I dream about the Enterprise,” Scotty said. “I dream that I’m riding her, hard.”
The doors to the room swung open, and Jim turned to see a figure in a head-to-toe white Starfleet issued hazmat suit enter. The figure had three hyposprays in one hand and two in the other, and Jim felt his heart lift in delight.
“You know what I want?” He asked the room at large. “I want to sleep with the same person more than three times in a row. And I don’t want them to be crazy, and I don’t care if they’re crazy in bed. It would just be really nice to wake up to your face lying on the pillow next to mine."
“Goddamnit, Jim,” replied the man in the suit, just before jabbing him in the neck.
He woke later with a splitting headache, cautiously opening his eyes until he confirmed that he sickbay lights were set to only 40%. He sensed, rather than heard or saw, Bones approach.
“You feeling better kid? I hear it got pretty messy down there.” Bones was smirking; an expression that Jim knew meant he was going to hearing jokes about this for weeks.
“Everyone’s ok?” He asked.
“Just fine, although pretty red in the face. The Nttán delegation has been trying to reach you, they’re incredibly apologetic.”
Jim shrugged. “We’ll sort it out.” He took a deep breath, and half-pulled himself into a sitting position on the biobed before Bones’ hand reached out to push him gently back down again.
“Damn Nttáns,” Bones said. “They tried to drug you, is what they did.”
“Seems to have been an honest mistake.”
Bones frowned but didn’t press the issue further. After a moment he said, “So, I hear you want long walks on the beach, and someone to hold hands with.”
Jim looked at him. “What if I do?”
“Doesn’t seem like the Jim Kirk I remember.”
Jim snorted. “Maybe I’ve been taking what I thought I could get.”
Bones’ expression was inscrutable. He looked down at Jim for a moment, and then away. Jim was acutely aware of every line on his face, around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. “Listen,” Bones began, but Jim heard the warning in his voice and cut him off.
“No, you listen,” he said. He leaned upwards, pulled Bones down, and kissed him.