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Jim doesn’t know why Bones did it; he’s pretty sure Bones doesn’t even know why he did it, but he did. And now every time Jim thinks about it, which is more often than would probably be considered ‘normal’, something unfamiliar stirs inside him. Or not unfamiliar, not really; but the cause is unfamiliar and that makes having the sensation at all, slightly strange.

He’d been sat on a biobed in the middle of Medical, nurses scurrying about, doctors treating their various patients; he’d asked to see Bones because Bones knows all his weird medical eccentricities, which means everything takes less time and the less time Jim has to spend in Medical the better. Plus, he and Bones have been friends for almost three years now: he trusts Bones.

It was just supposed to be a post-Narada check-up. And that is all it was. Except for the slap; or, well, the spank. To the ass. Bones spanked him. In the middle of medical. To the ass.

Or was it just a slap? To the ass.

Either way Jim’s sure it was in the middle of medical, and it definitely consisted of Bones’ hand connecting with his ass. With force.


It wasn’t really a big deal, or at least it doesn’t have to be. It was just an encouraging sort of slap. It was just Bones motivating Jim to stop wasting his time after the check-up so he could get onto treating the rest of his patients. But it was hard, and resolute.

Bones spanked him, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. One thing’s for certain though: he hopes Bones doesn’t bring it up. Hopes Bones didn’t see the slight blush to Jim’s cheeks and the slight hesitance to his next few steps out of Medical.

His hopes are futile.

“About earlier,” Bones starts, throwing himself down in the chair opposite Jim, whose face begins to heat almost automatically. “I uh,” but Bones pauses, frowning before opening and closing his mouth a few times like he’s unsure if he should even step into this territory, “I don’t know-”

“It’s fine,” Jim interrupts, “it was nothing.”

“Was it?” Bones questions, lips pursed and hazel eyes alight with something that Jim’s sure might be the reflection of his own soul.

“What are you saying?” Jim huffs, mirroring Bones’ confused frown.

“I’m just saying,” he pauses, and Jim can see Bones picking his words carefully, “I uh, I didn’t know you were a spanking man is all,” he finishes, voice lighter… almost amused. Jim doesn’t think he’s in on the joke. The mere implication that he’s a, a ‘spanking man’ makes his heart race.

“I,” Jim feels a sudden rush of indignation wash over him; frustration too and panic, “I don’t, I’m not-”

“It’s okay, kid,” Bones says, getting up from the library desk, gathering his PADD back into the crook of his arm before turning away, “didn’t mean to make you all flustered.”

Except Jim’s not sure if that’s true, because three days later, when Jim is leaving Bones’ dorm room after a quick study session, it happens again. It’s quick and sharp and Bones’ hand is warm. Jim turns his head to look back at Bones, eyes searching, but he stops himself halfway and just keeps walking.

Jim doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about it all. He’s had a lot of sex. He’s twenty-five years old for Christ sake; he’s been sticking his dick into any woman who will stay still long enough for him to spew out a shitty chat-up line and get his jeans down around his ass since he was fourteen. That’s eleven years of sex. That’s a lot of women.

Women, Jim thinks pointedly. Bones is certainly not a woman. But this isn’t a gay thing. No. Definitely not. Not that he has a problem with being gay. He doesn’t. He just isn’t. Gay, that is. Well isn’t. Because Jim isn’t gay.

The more he says it the less convincing it sounds, he realises that. Jim just wants to make it clear, to himself, in his head; because the spanking incident brought up a few feelingslusty feelings. Although those feelings don’t have to be related to the fact that it was Bones doing the spanking. Does that mean the spanking is to blame? Did he enjoy the spanking?

Did Bones?

Jim needs a drink.

“You look like shit, Jim,” Bones says, pulling up a stool and ordering another bottle of Budweiser for Jim and a Bourbon neat for himself.

“Thanks,” Jim huffs out a laugh, “you’re not so pretty yourself.”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” Bones smirks, setting his credit chip against the bartender’s PADD and nodding his thanks. “What’s wrong, kid?” he asks, turning back to Jim. “Are you really weirded out about Medbay the other morning?”

“I’m not weirded out,” Jim states, draining the last of his current bottle and reaching for the one Bones has just bought him.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Bones offers. “But I didn’t know it was a thing… for you.” 

“It’s not,” Jim urges. He’s never really been into that sort of stuff. He likes his fucking straight forward. No pun intended. Although it’s true. He’s straight. His sex is straight.

“It was just an off-handed thing,” Bones continues on, ignoring—or in spite of—Jim’s refutation. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Then why did you do it again today?” Jim snaps, suddenly annoyed.


“When I was leaving your dorm,” Jim states, chest heaving.

“I just...” Bones scoffs slightly and Jim nervously licks his lips, for a moment he’s worried he’s imagined it. “You squirmin’, it’s kinda funny, Jim.” He smirks, then, a glint of something dark and playful in his eyes. “I just—I never would have guessed.”

“I don’t squirm,” Jim frowns. “It’s just, it’s not my thing,” he finishes pointedly.

“Okay,” Bones says easily, curling his hand around his glass and taking a mouthful.


“What do you want me to say?”

“Well,” Jim considers, and he must be drunk to even ask, “is it your thing?”

“Being spanked?” Bones asks, half-incredulous. “No.”

“What about the other way around, the spanking?”

Bones looks at him for a long while, like he’s not sure Jim can cope with the answer. Eventually he shrugs.

“Sure, I guess.”


Sure, I guess. Jim’s not sure how to move forward with that knowledge, especially seeing as though it’s been two days and Jim’s pretty sure he’s thought of nothing else. He’s been avoiding Bones since he managed to escape from the bar and even though that’s going well Jim’s not as successful at mentally avoiding Bones. 

He tries to think of Gaila when he’s got his hand wrapped around himself that night, his too-hot body clammy under the duvet, but it’s Bones’ hand he thinks about in place of his own: long elegant fingers; broad palm; surgeon’s skill. It’s Bones’ face he sees when he comes.

He continues to see Bones’ face when he comes for the next few days, and it only gets worse after the unfortunate incident where he walks in on Bones fucking some guy into the floor, rough enough that the guy will definitely have carpet burn on his knees and forearms. After that he sees Bones’ cock when he comes, thick and full and sprung out of a mess of dark curls.

Maybe this is more of a gay thing than Jim first thought.


“I didn’t know you fucked guys,” Jim says the next morning in the mess, because he can’t keep his damn mouth shut.

“Excuse me?” Bones questions, his frown is somewhere between incensed and surprised.

“I went to your dorm last night. I was gonna see if you wanted to come out, drinking I mean. I let myself in, but you were… busy. With a guy. Fuc—”

“Yes, Jim. Thank you.” Bones snorts, he doesn’t seem embarrassed or anything, just mildly shocked. “Is it a problem?”

“No,” Jim says, almost too quickly. “Of course not, I mean I don’t care who you, you know.”


“Right.” Jim nods. “Did you, uh, was it a spanking thing?”

Jim!” Bones scolds, brows knitting together crossly.

“Sorry, I was just—”

“So what if it was?” Bones counters, waiting expectantly for Jim’s response.

“I didn’t know you did that,” says Jim lamely. “With guys.”

“I do a lot of things with guys.”

“You were married,” Jim says.

“For three years,” Bones agrees, nodding slowly. “I know, kid; I was there on the day.”

“To a woman, I mean,” Jim huffs, annoyed at Bones’ coyness. It’s like he’s trying to make Jim make a fool of himself, like he wants to watch Jim flounder.

“That doesn’t really change the fact that I also like guys,” Bones says with a shrug. “Bisexuality is a thing, Jim, you know? Where you’re attracted to your own and other genders.”

“Yeah, Bones,” Jim says irritably. “I know what bisexuality is, thanks.”

“I’m just saying. Didn’t think it’d bother you,” Bones shrugs.

“It doesn’t."

“Are you sure?” Bones asks. “’cause you been acting mighty strange lately.”

“I just didn’t know you were into guys,” Jim says, and he can hear the defensiveness pull at his larynx. 

“You’ve never been with a guy?” Bones asks, sounding, once again, mildly surprised.

“No,” Jim shakes his head. “I’m straight.”

“Huh,” is all Bones has to say on the matter.


Huh. It’s not even a word. It’s just a sound. Just a pesky little noise, but it starts to haunt Jim. To taunt him. Tease him. Huh. He hears it whenever he tells himself he’s straight. Even louder when he tells himself he isn’t gay.

He’s known Bones three years; they almost witnessed the destruction of their planet together, and in all that time they’ve never once talked about Bones’ sex life. Jim assumed he just didn’t get about much; he’d been burned by his divorce and Jim could kind of understand that he didn’t want to go whoring himself like Jim did. But now he knows Bones is having sex, and with men - which shouldn’t make a difference, he knows, but it does and he doesn’t know why. Maybe Jim’s just annoyed that he didn’t know Bones’ boat floated both ways; he feels like he should have known that about his best friend.

He’s also slightly bewildered that Bones just assumed he’d been with guys.

Jim’s honestly never even considered it an option.

Not until a week or so ago, anyway. And this is something that propels him into his first existential crisis. Is he gay? Is it just the spanking thing? Is it just Bones? Is it all three? How has he never realised this before? Why is one - two – smacks to the ass enough to make him question his sexuality?

“Bones, could we, could we talk?”

“Sure, Jim,” Bones nods, looking up from his PADD; they’re sitting out in the courtyard. They’ve only got a few classes left to get through before Graduation at the end of June; most of it is just to fill in the time, what with the campus so empty. After Graduation they’ll get their commissions and then they’ll only have a few months before they get deployed. It’s been a long three years, but it’s been worth it. Especially, and he knows this for certain because Pike has told him, because both Jim and Bones are being placed on the Enterprise. As Captain and CMO, if you’d believe it. So Bones is probably reading a book for fun right now, and not reading through some neurology journal, which makes Jim feel less guilty about disturbing him. “Shoot,” Bones encourages, eyes gentle and reassuring. 

“I uh, I was wondering, how you ah, knew, about the spanking thing?” Jim asks, and he’s not really sure what the question means, what he’s actually asking, but it’s out there now and neither of them can avoid it.

“About you, you mean?” And it isn’t what Jim meant, or, at least, he thought he was asking about Bones, but he shrugs in semi-agreement nonetheless. “I didn’t really, that first time, in Medical. It really was just a joke but I guess I er, I wan’ed to see if… if you’d have a similar reaction second time around.”

“I wasn’t that flustered,” Jim pouts.

“You really, really, were, kid.” Bones scoffs. “You could always explore it; I mean, you sleep with enough women, I’m sure some of ‘em’d be very obliging.”

“What if I—” but Jim stops himself and looks away from Bones.

“What if you what?”

“What if I wanted a guy to...” He pauses again, but doesn’t give up this time. “What if I wanted to do it with a guy?”

“Thought you said you were straight, Jim?” Bones questions, and looks genuinely curious rather than mocking.

“Well, the other night, seeing you with that guy.” Jim takes a breath, exhales slowly, feels the heat clawing up his neck. “It got me thinking that I might, I dunno, not be a hundred percent straight.”

“I see,” is all Bones says.

“What about you,” Jim wonders. “When did you know?”

“That I liked spanking?” Bones clarifies. “Always have, I guess.” He shrugs, like he feels awkward talking about it but at the same time doesn’t want to feel awkward talking about it. “I was dating a guy when I was a teen, sixteen-seventeen? He asked me to do it, I did it, we enjoyed it, I did it again.”

“How am I just learning all this about you?” Jim snorts, voice pretty fucking amazed.

“You never asked, I guess,” Bones shrugs. “Not exactly dinner time conversation.”

“Is it just spanking? Are there other things?”

Bones just smirks.


Jim doesn’t ask Gaila because she’s too close. Instead he goes to one of his usual bars, picks up a pretty brunette who looks a bit stern. Her steady brown eyes remind him of Bones but when he asks her to spank him she giggles, playfully slaps his flank and then quickly drops to her knees. The blowjob is below par because all Jim can think about is Bones behind him, while he’s on all fours; Bones is dressed and he isn’t. Bones is slapping his ass red and Jim is rocking forward from the force of it. Jim is rock hard. He’s in and out of this little fantasy and he ends up shooting down her throat without warning.

She swallows obediently and it leaves him feeling kind of numb. She writes her number on his forearm.

He washes it off when he gets home.

He doesn’t want a woman. He’s not even sure he wants a man. He wants Bones; and this realisation is a huge problem for Jim, because he’s not meant to want Bones. That is the last thing he’s meant to want. He and Bones are best friends; spanking, he’s pretty sure, would make things really, really, weird between them.


They’re eating Chinese in Jim’s dorm a few days later, precisely two weeks after the first incident. It’s the last day of May and it feels like the first time since before the Narada that they’ve had the chance to just sit back, relax and quietly enjoy each other’s company.

“What is it you like about slapping ass?”

Slapping ass?” Bones repeats incredulously. “Are you for real, kid?”

“Come on, Bones, give a guy a break.” Jim huffs, shoving more chow mein into his face.

“I don’t know, Jim.” Bones exhales, shaking his head slightly. “It’s the control, I figure. An’ the reaction of your partner. Doctors are sadists, we control people’s pain for a living; it bleeds over I guess…”

“You never said what other stuff you do,” Jim points out.

“A lot of other stuff, Jim. I’m a rounded kinda guy; I like a lot‘a things,” Bones says, sounding irritated.

“Like what?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“I wanna know. I’m curious, Bones; I’m having all of these feelings and I, I was wondering if maybe you’d…”

“Don’t ask for something you’re not absolutely certain you want, Jim,” Bones says firmly. “It’s no fun to play with boys who don’t know what they want.”

“How am I meant to know if I’m certain I want it when I’ve never done it?” Jim asks, almost sounding hopeless, or hopelessly confused.

“If you’re asking me that then you ain’t certain, not even close.” Bones sighs. “Just eat your noodles, Jim,” he says gently. “There’s this new show on the medical channel, you mind?”

Jim just shakes his head and tries to smile.


“So you’re a dom,” Jim says, a few more days, and a few hours of research, later.

Jesus, Jim,” Bones grits out, scrubbing a hand over his face. They’re in Jim’s room again, except this time they’re meant to be going out. Jim’s supposed to be finding a t-shirt to wear but everything seems to need a date with the washer.

“But you are, right?”

“Right.” Bones nods after a while.

“And yet you won’t… with me?”

“You can’t even ask for what you want, Jim,” Bones says softly. “It’d be like taking advantage.”

“I want you to spank me,” Jim says, blurts really; but he’s going to be a Captain, he knows how to keep his voice from shaking.

“Do you now?” Bones smirks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I do.”

“Jesus, Jim,” Bones repeats, softer now, almost a whisper.

“I just—” Jim breathes out of the small ‘o’ of his lips, waiting for the words to come to him. “If I’m gonna do this, and I want to, I need to do it with someone I trust,” Jim explains, and he tries to be methodical. “I trust you.”

“If we’re gonna do this, Jim, we’re gonna do it my way; that’s what you’re letting me have: control. Spanking, it’s just, it’s just the act, but the high comes from the control, the knowledge that I’m running things,” Bones explains.

“Right,” Jim says slowly; he’s not sure about where he sits on the power-play fence. He’s a Captain, in practice if not in name; he’s meant to be all about running the show. But the thought of giving himself over to Bones, to not have to think and worry, to have no one depending on him; it’s thrilling, and a spark of lust flickers in his stomach. Lower, even.

“You look nervous,” Bones observes. “It’s not gonna be fun for you if you’re nervous. Pain is only fun if you’re turned on some, you know, even if it’s not about the sex.”

“Not yet,” Jim agrees. “Not that, not yet.”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t have to be that, ever,” Bones says.

“I just.” Jim frowns. “I think I’m straight, I think it might just be a spanking thing.”

“Right.” Bones smiles, more to himself than to Jim, but it makes his stomach flip-flop nonetheless.

“You don’t think it’s just a spanking thing, do you?” Jim asks.

“It doesn’t really matter what I think.” Bones bumps his shoulder against Jim. “I just don’t want this to make things weird ‘tween us.”

“It won’t,” Jim promises. “I, uh, never mind.”

“Hey,” Bones says, still quiet but his voice is sharper. “You need to be honest with me, don’t hold back.”

“Well it’s just that, it might be the spanking thing,” Jim says slowly. “Or it might just be a you thing, and I don’t know what that means yet.”

“Maybe we should wait until you do,” Bones offers.

“You don’t seem that bothered,” Jim notes, turning his face so he can look at Bones properly.

“It’s not that,” Bones sighs. “It’s just, from my point of view, as someone with dominant tendencies,” he says carefully, “it’s kind of a rare gem, havin’ a Captain ask for what you’re asking for and I, I guess I get it, from your point of view, but I never pinned you for a sub and, and you’re different Jim, always have been.” He huffs, clearly he’s not happy with the way the words are tumbling out of his mouth. “All I’m saying is whether it turns sexual or not, it’s gonna be no skin off my nose.”

“You mean you’d wanna, maybe…”

“Fuck you?” Bones offers. “Have you passed by a mirror lately, kid? And you got brains to match; you’re a challenge, Jim. Just the thought of it, it makes me kinda crazy,” he admits, with a slight blush of his own.

Jim lets out a low noise, something that sounds a little awestruck. Really what he wants to do is say ‘woah’ in his most amazed voice, but he knows that won’t go down well with the doctor. That seems like an awful lot of pressure. To be considered a challenge? To make Bones all hot and bothered? Jim doesn’t know how he’s meant to continue on like normal with that knowledge.

“Let’s just stick with the spanking tonight,” Jim decides, but Bones looks suddenly confused.

“Tonight?” he questions. “Are you sure? You can’t just jump into this; you’re gonna need a safeword, or maybe we should use the traffic light system while you’re try’na figure out what you want—” Bones seems like he’s going to continue to worriedly ramble until Jim places a hand on his thigh, which effectively shuts him up.

“Enterprise,” Jim says. “My safeword.”

“That’s real charming, Jim.” Bones scoffs.

“It’s totally awesome,” Jim counters with a smirk. “And it is safe. And it’s not like it’d be likely to slip out in the heat of passion.”

“I dunno, Jim. If anyone’s gonna scream out Enterprise when they come, it’s gonna be you.” Bones laughs and Jim feels himself being pulled along by the tide of it, the deep rumble, like water breaking over rock.

“You’re an asshole.” Jim grins, and Bones just makes a face, something like reluctant agreement with an edge of amusement and a temperate shrug.

“You really wanna do it tonight?” Bones asks, and Jim nods. “I need to know you’ll use your safeword, Jim; the trust, it’s a two way road.”

“I will,” Jim assures him. “I might be a complete novice,” he admits begrudgingly, “but I do know my stuff.”

“Research on the net is a bit different to actually living it, Jim,” Bones counters. “Whatever you’re expecting, this probably isn’t gonna be it.”

“I’m expecting to enjoy it,” Jim offers and Bones just rolls his eyes.

“You shouldn’t expect too much,” Bones warns, but doesn’t say much else. He seems to be psyching himself. Something darker, and more remote, creeps into his hazel eyes, turning the green pigments of his eyes murky. Like a swamp Jim doesn’t know how to navigate through. Like quicksand. Jim already feels himself being dragged under the weight of Bones’ gaze; he feels the pressure, somehow, the pressure to do this right, for Bones. He needs to break the silence, it’s too much. Too intense. For him sex has always been filled with breathy moans and gentle laughter; this is strange to him.

“Take you pants off,” Bones says, and Jim knows it’s an order; he can hear the grey lead that fills Bones’ throat and makes his Southern drawl sound heavy; it’s thick gloopy chocolate and it surrounds Jim inescapably. He feels a flutter, low in his core, and the sudden rush of compliance. He stands to unbutton his trousers, popping each in quick, efficient movements. He pushes them down his legs by the waistband and steps out of them, but hesitates then, and looks up to Bones for more instruction.

“And those, James,” Bones prompts. “Don’t leave your clothes on the floor either; fold them and set them over there, or put them in the laundry, but don’t just leave them there. We aren’t animals.”

Bones’ scolding is different than it usually is; it’s still only trivial but it makes Jim feel ashamed and silly, like a child who’s repeatedly making the same mistakes on a math test. The use of his first name doesn’t help; it should make him feel strong, James T. Kirk should bounce gloriously around his chest, like a victory tattoo, but it doesn’t. James makes him feel small and vulnerable; it makes him need Bones’ guidance all the more.

His cock is heavy in between his legs and he belatedly realises he’s already half-hard against the material of his boxer-briefs; his cheeks flare pink as he pushes them down his thighs before bending to collect both items of clothing. The nudity isn’t really a problem for him; he walks across the room to the laundry bin, back turned to Bones, and tries to muster as much elegance as he can on the walk back. But he falters slightly. He both loves and hates being under Bones’ scrutiny, the doctor’s eyes never leaving his face even though Jim’s cock appears to demand attention.   

“Lean over the desk,” Bones instructs, “legs apart slightly, brace yourself.” Jim quickly understands that Bones means that last direction in a literal way, as well as metaphorically. He splays his fingers out over the white veneer of the desk; it’s cold and smooth and he’s not sure if his clammy palms won’t slip and slide when it comes down to it. Jim complies though, spreading his legs so they’re just short of hip-width apart, back straight but angled forward, shoulders strong (for now at least).

“Nice form,” Bones says, running a warm hand from the curve of Jim’s shoulder down the length of his back. “Let’s see if you can keep it like that.” It’s a subtler order, Jim realises, a challenge; and it sends a sharp flicker of lust right to his cock. He presses his thighs into the table-top, until the skin feels pinched and uncomfortable, but that does nothing to ebb away his erection. “Uh uh,” Bones chides. “I’ll dish out the pain, James, you just need to learn to take it.”

 Jim tries to exhale but he can hear the shake in his own voice, he knows that the muscles in his back and ass are rippling, clenching tight before stuttering back to some faux show of calm.

“Relax,” Bones says, rubbing up over Jim’s back, circling over his ribs for a moment. “This’ll feel real good, but only if you relax.” His voice seems to drop to a whisper, and, at the same time, Jim could hear nothing else even if he tried.

“I’m ready,” Jim promises, because he thinks it’s what Bones wants to hear and not because it’s necessarily true. He doesn’t know if he’s ready, and he’s unlikely to any time soon.

“Ask me for what you want, James, beg for it,” Bones whispers, close to the shell of Jim's ear. A thrilling lick of humiliation and desire rush through Jim, leaving him breathless and painfully aroused, his cock leaking precum against his stomach.

“I want you to spank me,” Jim says, clear and concise, before pausing, fretting over the next part. “Please,” he whispers, sounding pitiful even to his own ears.

“That’s not begging, James, come on,” Bones encourages, letting his fingers walk down Jim’s spine, caressing his ass. Bones stays purposefully away from Jim’s crack, choosing instead to cup his cheek from the flank, fingertips brushing his thigh. Bones hand is hot against Jim’s cold ass, although the pads of his fingers are slightly more tepid as they press into Jim’s skin.

Please,” Jim says, hips squirming; he looks desperate, eyes clenched shut. “Please, I—I want this so bad,” he continues, realising the truth of his words as they make their way out of his mouth. “Been thinking about this for weeks, Bones, please.”

There is a beat, a rush of air that floods out of Bones' lungs and against Jim's back. Jim's stomach tenses.

The first slap bites at Jim’s skin, and he almost chokes on the force of his own gasp, half stuck in his throat. It takes Jim by surprise, that’s for sure; he thought he’d have a warning, a green light from Bones to say this was actually happening. Although, he figures, maybe the green light was Bones ordering him to take his clothes off. Spanking is just the act, he hears Bones’ voice in his head, and this, the begging, the direction, it’s part of the everything-else Bones was talking about. This is the power.

“Count,” Bones whispers, lips so close to the shell of Jim’s ear that he can feel the warmth of his breath; it raises goose flesh on his neck.

“One,” Jim mumbles, automatically, and it becomes the most reverent word ever to escape his lips. “One,” he says again, louder, fading away to a whimper in the wake of another slap. “Two,” he whispers.

“Remember these numbers, James,” murmurs Bones. “Keep them safe.”

Jim has no idea what that means, but three and four and five become just as important as two, if not slightly less important than one. His ass is stinging by this point, and where it started off as a pleasant crackle of pain it’s now fading into an ache. Bones hand is deft and sharp and he makes each slap count. This isn’t some half-cocked version of spanking, Bones is giving Jim his all, and it only serves to make Jim’s need grow. He feels himself grow competitive, wants to give Bones just as much as Bones is giving to him. He sticks his ass out slightly, trying to keep his back ramrod straight.

Bones spanks the right ass cheek, and it’s three a pair; but before Jim can even utter ‘six’ Bones brings his hand down on the back of Jim’s right thigh, and the pain blooms over the skin.

“I didn’t tell you to move,” Bones states, seemingly disappointed, almost harshly so. Bones’ hand quickly soothes over the skin though, and Jim feels instantly relieved, as if all is forgiven. “Don’t forget your count,” Bones prompts.

“Six,” Jim gasps. “Seven.”

“Good boy,” Bones grants, slapping Jim’s left thigh and chuckling at the broken sound that Jim emits: a high pitched ‘uh’ that is neither fully pained nor fully pleasured.

“Eight,” Jim hisses, and notes that it's the hardest slap he has received thus far; they’ve been getting gradually worse in their increments of two, Jim realises, and it sends a spike of fear through his body in anticipation of the next two.

“Can you take two more?” Bones asks firmly, but it sounds kind too, like Bones is slowly coming back to himself.

“Please,” Jim whimpers.

His erection doesn’t falter even though the ninth slap is almost too hard. Bones makes a slightly impatient noise and Jim mouths ‘nine’ but he’s not sure he actually says it aloud.

“Louder, James,” Bones demands, voice steady and sure.

“Nine,” he breathes and Bones grants him the final spank. It’s just a touch sharper but it’s enough to startle a shrill Jesus, Bones, ten from his throat.

“Hey,” Bones warns, rubbing over Jim’s abused skin. “That’s rude; we’re polite to those that spank us, James,” Bones continues and even with the blood rushing in his ears Jim can hear the satisfied smirk in his voice. 

“’m sorry,” Jim says, heart stuttering in his chest.

“It’s okay, kid,” Bones says, voice fading to something more familiar; curved, rounded edges, smooth and approachable. “You did good, Jim.”

“It hurts,” Jim states.

“It’s s’posed to,” Bones counters.

“But it, it felt good too,” Jim admits, a blush lighting up over the back of his neck.

“Good.” Bones smiles, offering his hand to Jim to help him turn all the way around. Jim accepts the help shakily; he feels a little like he’s floating, which makes walking difficult because he’s not sure where the ground is.

“Was it—” Jim starts. “Was it good for you?”

“It was,” Bones assures him, and something must dawn on him because he rubs his fingers over Jim’s knuckles. “You did real good, Jim,” he repeats, “why don’t you head into the shower, sort yourself out.” He glances down at Jim’s slightly waning erection.

“Will you stay?”

“If you want me to, yeah,” Bones nods, and Jim feels himself smiling with relief.

“I do,” Jim says gently, turning back to Bones just before he heads into the bathroom, “and uh, thanks Bones.”

“You’re welcome, Jim,” Bones smiles.

“Are you,” Jim’s gaze flicks to Bones’ own tented pants, “do you want-”

“I’m fine,” Bones says, “it’ll die down.”

“We could,” Jim’s eyes flicker to the bathroom.

“Go an’ shower, Jim,” Bones says lightly, still smiling, looking at Jim like he always does: fondly and a little like Jim is the dopiest creature he’s ever encountered.


The next few days are tentative between them but they make the effort to see each other: drinks the night after, when Jim’s ass is still stinging slightly; and was pink the last time he checked it in the mirror; lunch together in the mess on Saturday and Sunday; home cooked dinner in Bones’ quarters those nights too. It’s Monday now, though, and Jim’s got a tactics seminar; even though both their dissertations are finished and handed in classes are still running like normal. Jim figures it’s to keep everyone busy, keep their minds off how empty the corridors are.

Bones spends most of his waking hours in the clinic during the week so he has lunch with Nyota instead.

“No Spock, huh?” Jim smirks. Nyota just rolls her eyes, trying not to smile.

“He’s in a meeting,” she counters, “we’re not joined at the hip, unlike yourself and a certain doctor I could mention.”

“Shut up.” Jim scoffs, flushing slightly. “Bones and I are just—”

“Just?” Nyota prompts.

“I uh,” Jim starts, standing. His head feels like it's tumbling slightly, overturning and unable to right itself. “I’m sorry Ny, I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay, Jim,” she says slowly. Aare you okay, though? And don’t call me Ny, we’re not friends.”

“Sure we’re not.” Jim smirks. “I’m fine, I just, I need to ask Bones something.”

“You do, do you?” she asks, gracefully raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that.” Jim shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you,” she jibes, shooing him away.

“Thanks,” he mutters, making his way to medical.


Jim waits in the waiting room of Medical until the end of Bones’ shift, at which point he links their arms and steers Bones in the direction of the doctor’s dorm. Bones lets himself be swept along by Jim’s excited tide, although he still puts up a little protestation. Bones can’t make his life too easy, Jim thinks dryly. Though Jim avoids asking his questions until they’re safely behind Bones’ dorm room door because he’s not stupid, he knows he can’t go shouting about this sort of stuff in the corridors of Medical.

“I have questions,” Jim blurts, “about you, and about us, and about where this is going; because I want more, and I know you said I should be sure before I ask for things. I am sure, but I just don’t, I don’t know what the protocol is here, and I don’t know how you do this, and what stuff you’re into and what you’re not into and—” Jim stops himself abruptly, looking to Bones for guidance.

“I’ll answer your questions, Jim, I owe you that much.” Bones shrugs. “If you’re sure that this is what you want?”

“It is,” Jim says. “And I, I think I want the sex stuff too,” he admits, looking nervous. “No, I don’t think… I do, I do want it, I just—”

“Let’s take one step at a time, Jim,” Bones interrupts. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to, but, I do this sort of thing for keeps, you know, when things are serious, I’m not, I don’t share so good; friends with benefits doesn’t work for me.”


But Jim falls silent, he doesn’t have an answer for that; he can’t give up that sort of autonomy yet. Sex is just that: sex. It’s not a defining thing for Jim, it’s not all that important. Although… he hasn’t slept with anyone since a few days before Bones spanked him that first time in Medical, apart from that one unfulfilling blow job. He hasn’t wanted to. He wants Bones, just Bones. But he’s not sure he wants the relationship stuff that comes along with it.

Joined at the hip, he thinks of Nyota’s words and wonders, not for the first time if he’s honest with himself, if he and Bones aren’t already in some pseudo-relationship. Monogamy isn’t really Jim’s issue, but he does get bored easily.

He’s never gotten bored of Bones though.

“Honesty, right?” Jim says to which Bones nods, tentatively. “I’m not sure if I, I mean, I’ve been thinking about it lately but I don’t know if I, if I’m—”

“Into guys?” Bones suggests and Jim nods gratefully. “Then maybe we should keep things simple, keep sex out of it until you’re sure.”

“Okay,” Jim says, and he identifies the tightening in his chest as disappointment.

“What?” Bones wonders, frowning slightly; he’s just as confused as Jim and it makes the soon-to-be Captain feel guilty about his indecisiveness.

“I just.” Jim sighs. “I’m confused about all of this, and I just, I don’t want it to affect us.”

“It won’t,” Bones assures, squeezing his forearm. “You said you had questions?”

“About the other stuff, about what you like,” Jim says.

“Uh...” Bones shrugs. “I told you, Jim, I like a lot of stuff.”

“Do you, uh, do you use props, you know paddles and canes and-”

“I know what props are, Jim.” Bones scoffs, rolling his eyes. “An’ yeah, not paddles too much, you know? Not unless I, unless they, unless bruising is the desired effect.”

“Bruising?” Jim repeats weakly. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to, I mean, I’d never make you,” Bones pauses. “It’s just different strokes for different folks, Jim,” is what Bones settles on, obviously trying to pick his words carefully, to make things clearer for Jim, even if it’s invasive and uncomfortable.

“So what do you use?” Jim asks. “I mean, what do you prefer?”

“Honestly? I’m a hands-on sort of man, but they all have their merits; it depends on the partner too, what lets them get their kicks,” Bones explains. “I won’t use a whip, I never spent time learning a good technique for it; it was never something that came up, it’s too unpredictable.”

“Not so in control,” Jim surmises.

“Exactly.” Bones nods.

“Maybe I could watch you,” Jim says quickly, and he’s pretty sure he’s stepping over their no sex line already, but he is Jim Kirk—stepping over boundaries is pretty much his forte.

“Watch me what?” Bones asks slowly.

“You know,” Jim says. “Jer—”

“No, Jim,” Bones shakes his head; his voice is firm, steely; like it was the other night. “It doesn’t work like that; you have to work hard for those sorts of shows.”

“Then how does it work?” Jim asks irritably, “Because I want more, Bones.”

“You ask for what you want, James,” Bones states. “An’ if it works for both of us, we do it.”

“I want to watch you,” Jim repeats, pouting petulantly. “I’ve been really good.”

Bones blinks a few times, considering. Jim’s sure he’s going to say no; Jim just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, when to stop pushing and now Bones is going to think he’s just a greedy asshole who can’t control himself. He huffs and Jim knows those puppy-dog eyes of his have worked. 

“Then we do it my way,” Bones states, and Jim nods eagerly, obediently—letting his surprise build into something deeper; a rush of arousal. “Take your clothes off,” Bones orders, “and lie down on the bed.”

A part of Jim wants to argue back but he quells it in favour of following instructions, for once, which is a weird turn of fate for Jim. He’s starting to see the allure in it: the easiness; the simplicity. All he needs to worry about is doing what Bones tells him. He doesn’t need to think about strategy and tactics, just needs to let Bones shepherd him. It’s effortless, and it makes Jim’s cock throb.

Bones steps over to the trunk at the end of the bed, opens it, lifts out the insert and sets it aside; Bones has been hiding an array of sex toys in plain sight and Jim has never even suspected. Jim’s nervous to see what Bones pulls out, and is confused when he sees the length of synthetic, soft-fibre rope.

“I’m gonna tie your wrists, James,” Bones says. “Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes,” Jim nods, but doesn’t say it aloud.

“You use it whenever you want,” Bones instructs, moving to the side of the bed, gently guiding Jim’s wrists together so he can begin weaving the white rope around them; it’s intricate and careful and it makes it nigh impossible for Jim to move his hands. Once Bones has secured him to the headboard he steps back, goes over to the desk, wheels the chair to the side of the bed and sits down. He unzips his fly, shifting his jeans down slightly, pushing his boxers with them. Jim watches enraptured as Bones pulls out his cock, wrapping his fist around it. He can’t look away from those long tanned fingers, captivated by the way the head pokes out, flushed and flared, from their grip.

Bones flicks his thumb over his slit.

“You like bein’ tied up, James?” His voice is a raw husk of a thing, drenched in arousal; his eyes flicker from Jim’s face to his cock and finally up to his bound wrists.

“Yes,” Jim admits. “It’s, it’s awkward but I-”

“That’s enough,” Bones states, pumping his fist over himself in slow, confident movements. “Tell me about all the things you’ve been thinking on,” he instructs. “What’s been going on in that genius head of yours?”

“You,” Jim whispers, trying to rub his thighs together until a look from Bones stills his movements. “I’ve been thinking about the other day, about you letting me touch myself while you spank me, about you doing it.”

“It’s not very specific, James.” Bones smirks, letting his hips thrust up, ass lifting off the chair.

“About you jerking me off while you’re spanking me,” Jim says, squirming, trying to urge his erection away. Bones’ eyes are on his though, appraising and encouraging and it gives Jim the strength he needs to remain motionless. “Sometimes I’m disobedient; you tell me I can’t touch myself but I do anyway, and you, you punish me.”

“How?” Bones breathes, the word coming out as a ragged moan.

“Sometimes you push me to my knees, and I—I blow you; but I’ve never.” Jim shakes his head, embarrassed by his inexperience. “I’m sloppy and you have to tell me exactly what to do, exactly how you like it.” 

“God, Jim.” Bones’ breath hitches, his hand speeding up but it stutters slightly, irregular. This is what Bones doesn’t like, Jim understands; he gets to see Bones out of control, and that isn’t his thing. It worries him maybe, but it only makes Jim’s desire pool more heavily in his groin. He’s achingly hard, and the need to come is so overwhelming that Jim can feel his cock pulsing against his abdomen; precum sticky on his skin. Jim keeps his eyes wide though, watches as Bones’ face screws up and his fist is coated in come.

Jim waits for Bones to get his breath back; waits for Bones to wipe his hand on a t-shirt thrown across the back of his desk chair, pull his pants back up and tuck himself back into them. Jim waits quietly, tries to look submissive. It must work because Bones still seems slightly turned on when he looks at Jim.

“Should I leave you like this?” Bones asks gently. “All tied up, wait until you wriggle enough to get rope burn?”

“Please,” Jim whispers.

“Please, what?” Bones questions. “Be specific, James.”

“Touch me,” Jim blurts, arching his back, grinding his ass down into the duvet, getting a meagre lick of friction to his balls. “Please touch me.”

Bones stands and considers Jim for a moment, a playful look in his eyes, before he sits down on the side of the bed. Finally, Jim wants to say, but he doesn’t, he just gasps, bucking his hips as Bones’ middle and index fingers graze down his length. It’s teasing and torturous and it makes him cry out all the louder when Bones’ hand eventually wraps around his cock and begins to stroke.

He comes embarrassingly fast, from the feel of soft skin against him and the smell of Bones, coffee and come, filling his lungs. Bones doesn’t seem to mind; he wipes his hand on the t-shirt for a second time and gets up, heading for the bathroom.

“Are you gonna untie me?” Jim squeaks.

“Ask for it, James,” Bones says with a smirk. “If you really want me to.”

Jim hears the tap running, figures Bones is washing his hand. He slumps back, tugs at his bindings and feels… safe. He’s content to lie there a bit longer. So much so that he falls asleep while Bones is in the shower.


It’s dark when he wakes up, and his arms have started to ache from the tug and stretch of where they’re tied above his head. Bones is out of the shower, it seems: sat at his desk in just a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He’s turned to one side and he’s alert enough that Jim’s minor movements catch his gaze.

“Hey,” Bones says gently, looking up from his PADD.

“Hey,” Jim returns, softly too, and it feels more intimate than anything Jim’s ever experienced.

“I was gonna untie you when I got out of the shower but I didn’t wanna wake you. It’s not often you’re so quiet,” Bones jibes.

“You’re an asshole,” Jim grins. “I’m starting to ache a bit now, though, so I think I’d like you to—”

“Yeah, of course,” Bones says, standing quickly and discarding his PADD - before he’s even finished asking and Jim starts to get the difference in Bones: in Leonard McCoy, doctor and long-time friend of one Jim Kirk; and Other Bones, potential lover and Dominant to-boot. Bones is gentle when he unties Jim, setting the rope aside before returning to work his fingers over Jim’s arms, stimulating the blood flow and massaging into the joins of his shoulder and elbow. Jim realises Bones has covered his lower half in the blanket he keeps in the insert of the trunk; it’s a comfort Jim didn’t even know he wanted: it lets him come back to himself. Because, he comes to the startling realisation, there are two sides to Jim too: Jim, easy flirt, confident Captain Kirk; and Jim who answers to James, inexperienced submissive.

“Thanks,” Jim says.

“You’re welcome,” Bones returns, rubbing softly over Jim’s left wrist. “And, thank you,” Bones huffs out, offering Jim a crooked smile.

“For what?” Jim wonders, because while he knows that what they’re doing gets to Bones just as much as it gets to him, he’s still unsure what exactly it is Bones is grateful for.

“For letting me have this,” Bones says vaguely. “For trustin’ me.”

Jim trusts Bones more than anyone else in the universe. Maybe he’ll tell him as much one day, when he’s feeling braver. He reaches for Bones’ hand instead, and they sit like that for a while, just holding hands in silence, Jim turned onto his side in the middle of Bones’ double bed.

“Could I, could I stay tonight?” Jim asks after a while.

“I’ll get you some pyjama pants,” Bones nods, and that’s that. Jim puts them on, only feeling slightly awkward because of his nudity in such close proximity to Bones, and then Bones gets into bed beside him. They lay under the duvet, each on their own side of the mattress, until Jim finds Bones hand again, turns onto his side and waits until Bones’ body finds him.

Spooning, Jim thinks, is decidedly un-kinky, but it’s also kind of perfect and it’s exactly what they need.


“What’cha readin'?” Bones asks; he’s still in bed the next morning but Jim woke up early, buzzing slightly. He went for a jog, even went up as far as that nice Italian café to by some pastries for breakfast and a bag of the coffee beans that Bones likes. He didn’t even flirt with the pretty Italian barista, and he only thinks about that fact now, looking up from his PADD and into Bones’ eyes. Hers were darker than his; Bones’ are much prettier. He frowns and looks back down at his PADD; he’s on the sofa, just wearing one of Bones’ t-shirts and a pair of his own boxers that Jim keeps in Bones’ dresser. Has done since their second semester.

“Just a few things,” Jim shrugs, “some articles, you know.”

“About what?” Bones questions and Jim knows he needs to give the man an answer.

“Questioning sexuality, and uh, sadomasochism, stuff like that.”

“That’s pretty big stuff, Jim,” Bones says carefully, sitting in up the bed.

“I know,” Jim nods, “but you know I like to read up on stuff.”

“You certainly do,” Bones nods. “You ah, found anything interesting?”

“Well I read an article about Doms, about people that do this all the time, lif-”

“Lifestylers,” Bones nods.

“I don’t want that,” Jim says, “collars and titles and small ‘j’ or capital ‘J’; I just want to be Jim and Bones like always.”

“Well that’s good, for me, I mean. I’d have nothing against you if you did want to do it twenty-four seven but that’s not me,” Bones says, “I like that you have your autonomy, that you can come an’ go as you please, that you can say what you like; we’re friends Jim, always, before anything else.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you did, but I wondered if maybe you and Jocelyn-”

“No,” Bones says quickly, “we didn’t, she wasn’t really…” he looks away, “no.”

“You mean she wasn’t into this? Any of it?” Jim questions, frowning, “but I-”

“You don’t choose who you fall in love with I guess, an’ people don’t wear signs, you know. Pain? It wasn’t a thing for her. So we didn’t…” he shrugs, waving his hand as if to indicate the space between Jim and he.

“But you guys were together for five years, married for three…”

“An’ it ended in divorce,” Bones reminds with a wonky, unsure smile.

“Because of this?”

“Because of a lot of things, but yeah, in part; it’s a big thing for me, an’ I tried an’ she tried, but it just… we didn’t mesh. Then I fell apart after my Daddy died, I wanted control over something, anything, an’ she couldn’t get it. I was unbearable, I figure, so she filed for divorce,” Bones explains.

“I feel like I’m learning a lot about you,” Jim says tentatively, “you’re a Doctor; you might go a bit hypo crazy but I’ve seen you with patients, you’re gentle and soft and not-”

“A mad sadist?” Bones proposes. “Well, treating patients doesn’t exactly get me going, Jim. It’s a totally different headspace.”

“Yeah,” Jim nods, “I mean I get that; it’s just weird, I guess, to see the change, to cause the change.”

“Twenty questions,” Bones says suddenly, slipping out of the bed, pulling on a sweatshirt and perching on the arm of the sofa, the opposite end to where Jim’s sat. “Ask me whatever you have to about this. You might learn more than from the articles.”

“Primary research,” Jim grins.

“Exactly,” Bones chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“Uh,” Jim takes a moment to think of something he wants to know, that Bones might avoid telling him otherwise, “did you and Jocelyn ever do a scene?”

“I brought it up, a few months after we started sleeping together, about six months after our first date, I asked her if she’d let me tie her up. I think she thought fluffy handcuffs, not rope. She refused to even consider a safeword or anything like that; she said no was no an’ I shouldn’t get off on the struggle,” Bones admits, “I didn’t ask again.”

“Do you? Get off on the struggle?”

“Yes,” Bones nods.

“That’s why you’re so crazy about the safeword, so you know when I mean no and when I actually mean no?”

“Yeah, on a basic level,” Bones agrees, “but it’s more than that too: it’s the difference between you’re hurting me and I like it and you’re hurting me and I don’t; it’s the difference between I’m scared but it turns me on and just I’m damn well scared. Those lines can’t be blurred, safewords keep the line very, very, clear.”

That frightens Jim some, that Bones might need the line just as much as Jim does, to stop himself getting carried away…

“Seventeen left, Jim,” Bones prompts.

“When did you lose your virginity? And who to?” Jim asks.

“That first guy, the one I told you about. I was seventeen,” Bones replies, “an’ that’s two questions, kid.”

Jim laughs slightly, of course it is. It surprises Jim that Bones lost his virginity to another boy; maybe it shouldn’t, but it does. He’d like to ask more about it, but they can have a proper first time conversation in the future; that doesn’t seem so risqué and it would be totally wasting questions.

“What is it about inflicting pain? Why do you like it?” Jim asks; he feels like he has a surface answer, about control and all that jazz but there’s more, Jim can feel it, just like he felt the electric energy radiating off of Bones when he was slapping Jim’s ass the other night.

“I don’t know, Jim, a part of it is that I like to make it better, you know. An’ if I can be the one causin’ the pain then I know how best to treat it. I like being needed by my sub. I guess it’s the latent rebel in me, haha, I was always the good kid, and I can still be that. I can have the complete adoration of someone for doing violent things to them. It’s unlike anythin’, s’hard to explain,” he blushes, looking away.

“Have you ever really hurt someone?” Jim asks. Question fifteen, he catalogues.

“I’ve never done anything that wasn’t consensual, discusses and properly cared for afterwards,” Bones says, too sharply.

“That isn’t what I asked,” Jim states, eyes flickering up to Bones’, using one of his practised Captain gazes, one that demands an answer, demands cooperation.

“I don’t wanna scare you,” Bones says hesitantly. “You’re only just starting out; it can be overwhelming, an’ like I said before what works for some people doesn’t work for others, an’ I wouldn’t expect it to, I wouldn’t expect you to enjoy things that my other partners have. We play it by ear, right?”

“Bones,” Jim reasons, trying to smile. “Just answer the question.”

“Yes,” he huffs. “Yes I’ve really hurt someone.”

“Tell me how,” Jim instructs.

“No, that isn’t a question. That’s a story for a whole ‘nother time.” Bones shakes his head, eyes imploring. “Let me have this one, Jim, please.”

“More than once?” Jim says, quietly relenting, giving Bones the respect he knows Bones would extend to him.

“No,” Bones shakes his head, appearing to relax slightly. 

Twelve left, Jim thinks.

“What do you think makes me enjoy it, the pain and the submissiveness?” Jim wonders, and it’s something he’s been toying with in his own head, something he’s very curious about even though he usually tries not to think internally, tries to avoid introspection and self-evaluation.

“That isn’t a question I can answer, Jim, only you can know that,” Bones counters.

“I’m asking for your opinion,” Jim urges.

“Well, you’re a Captain - your job is to be in control, you have all this responsibility… Maybe this is the one way you can really get outta your mind,” Bones suggests, scooting onto the sofa properly so he’s closer to Jim, “eleven left.”

“You’re keeping count?” Jim asks, amused.

“Yeah,” Bones nods, “that’s ten,” he smirks.

“You’re an asshole,” Jim grins.

“So you keep telling me,” Bones scoffs.

“What makes you attracted to me, sexually I mean,” Jim asks.

“Come on, Jim,” Bones reasons, blushing. “You’re gorgeous, kid: big blue eyes; lips like sin,” he continues, dragging his thumb over Jim’s lower lip, pulling it out until he gets a touch of wetness on the pad. “An’ now that I’ve seen your ass up close an’ personal, that helps.” His eyes suddenly look hungry and Jim’s stomach flip-flops.

“I have got a pretty spectacular ass,” Jim agrees. Then this niggling feeling starts in Jim’s chest; he feels the ghost sensation of Bones’ thumb on his mouth and he leans forward, his intention clear.

Bones puts his hand on Jim’s chest, and when Jim opens his eyes Bones is smirking.

“Ask for what you want,” Bones reminds.

“I want to kiss you,” Jim says, “can I?”

Bones nods and Jim closes the final few inches between them. Bones’ mouth is warm and insistent; it’s a war, and Bones wants Jim to submit to him. So Jim does; he lets his mouth be assaulted, handing himself to Bones willingly; lets himself be overcome, overpowered. He moans into Bones’ mouth and can feel the curl of Bones’ smirk against his lips. He remembers what Bones said about the struggle, and he presses his hands into Bones’ chest, over his pectoral muscles. Jim can feel Bones’ pulse thudding away under his sweatshirt; it matches the racing of Jim’s own heart.

“Uh uh,” Bones chides, pulling his mouth away from Jim’s and wrapping his hands around his wrists, “you always ask, Jim. Getting permission should be fun for you, a challenge, huh?”

“Let me touch you,” Jim whispers, trying to wriggle his hands out of Bones’ grasp.

“No, you’ve got nine questions left,” Bones states, not letting go of Jim’s wrists, digging his nails in slightly until Jim’s cock begins to stir.

“Are you sure?” Jim asks.

“Eight now, and yes, I’m sure, because I said so,” Bones states.

“Is there always an element of this?” Jim asks. “Of the power play?”

“Yes,” Bones says uncompromisingly. “I spent so long holding it in with Joce, when the divorce came through I made a promise to myself that I’d never get involved with someone who couldn’t handle it; that I wouldn’t hold back anymore. It’s part of who I am; maybe that’s why I haven’t had any long term relationships since, because I play openly now, all my cards on the table. A lot of the people I sleep with,” Bones pauses at the surprised look Jim gives him, “I do have sex, Jim. It’s just not really easy to talk about it, not with people who aren’t in on the scene, but you are now, an’ I’m try’na be honest. I’ve slept with a world of different people since being at the academy, but not anyone I could have imagined being with long term.”

Bones fiddles with a thread on the cuff of his sweatshirt before he continues, “it doesn’t always have to be big things, it could be simple as holding you down,” Bones says, holding Jim’s wrists slightly higher as if to illustrate his point. “Telling you what to do, or scratching maybe, biting…”

“How many people have you slept with since starting the academy?” Jim asks; it’s only trivial and Jim feels stupid for the jealous flare up he’s going through, especially seeing as though he’s been sleeping with women like it’s going out of fashion.

“I don’t know, Jim; ten, maybe twelve,” and that doesn’t sound like such a big number, not for three years, not in comparison to Jim’s double-figure, “I’ve been seeing three people regularly since the middle of last year, a few one night stands, there is a club in the Castro tha-”

“A club?” Jim questions, “and what do you mean you’ve been seeing three people, you mean you have three regular hook-ups at the same time? Why do you need three?”

“They enjoy different things,” Bones says, “it’s variety, an’ besides, they travel a lot; we just go with the flow.”

“You sleep with them all at the same time?” Jim squawks. 

“No,” Bones chuckles, “of course not.”

“Are you still going to see them?”

“No,” Bones shakes his head, and Jim licks his lips nervously; he doesn’t feel like he should want to ask this of Bones but he does and he’s relieved to hear Bones say it so freely. Monogamy seems really important now, which makes Jim slightly worried. “Those relationships are different, Jim; they’re solely about the power exchange, the scene. Sometimes it’s sexual, more often than not it ain’t.”

“Have you seen them since, since I caught you with that guy?”

“No, that was the last time,” Bones assures him, “you’re different, Jim, you’re important, and this is new for you. I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t abuse your trust like that.”

“Tell me about them? You said they like different things… what do you mean?” Jim asks.

“The guy from the other night, his name is Ellis. He’s ah, he likes it rough, likes me to leave bruises, to hold him down,” Bones looks away, “we should probably respect his privacy though,” he smiles gently. “There’s another guy called Henry; he’s another doctor actually, we see each other at conferences sometimes. An’ a lady called Pamela.”

“And if I asked, you’d stop seeing them?”

“Yeah,” Bones nods, “is that what you want? Exclusivity?”

“Are you asking me questions now?”

“Yes, and I expect an answer,” Bones says, “you only have one question left.”

“I think I want exclusivity,” Jim says honestly, but he’s still not entirely sure if he wants to label what they’re embarking on, “I, I haven’t felt like this before. I’m nervous, I am, but I want this, with you, and I don’t like the thought of you being with other people.”

“That works for me, Jim,” Bones says gently, “I, ah, I’m glad, actually.”

“This is dangerous,” and Jim could leave it as a statement, but he doesn’t want to play games anymore, he wants to keep a different kind of count, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Jim,” Bones nods. “I—even with consent.  Some of this play, it wanders into dangerous territory, into urgent medical attention sort of territory,” he finishes, eyeing Jim carefully.

“I’m out of questions,” Jim says lightly. “But I can ask for stuff I want, can’t I?”

“You always can,” Bones promises.

“Can I,” Jim blushes like an adolescent. “Can I blow you?”

“You don’t have to rush things, not on my account,” Bones says, cupping Jim’s face. Jim leans his cheek into Bones’ hand, smiling contentedly.

“I want to,” Jim says. “I might not be very go-”

“Shhh,” Bones hushes, pressing his lips to Jim’s, “take your clothes off, James, and kneel for me.” Jim quickly rids himself of his t-shirt, standing to fold it over the back of the sofa, taking off his boxer-shorts next and stepping into nudity is much easier this time around. He sets the boxers on top of his t-shirt and kneels in front of Bones, who’s sitting on the edge of the sofa now, cock drawn into his hand. Jim waits to be instructed, keeping his eyes on the floor in the way he’s read a lot of Doms appreciate.

Bones tilts Jim’s chin up and leaves his fingers there until Jim looks at him. “Put your hands behind your back, eyes on me, James,” Bones says, the firm veneer of control coating his voice again. Jim holds one wrist in his other hand, shifting his shoulders until he’s comfortable. Blue eyes meet hazel and lust bolts through Jim’s body; it stirs in the pit of his stomach and leaves his breathing unsteady. Bones’ eyes seem to give the impression he’s mildly impressed; Jim wants to strive for very impressed. He bats his lashes once, twice and lets his trepidation turn into fear as it crosses his face.

“Good boy,” Bones praises, tracing Jim’s cheekbone with his thumb. His other hand is stroking languidly over his cock, bringing himself to full hardness.

Jim wants to let his eyes drop to Bones’ cock, but he knows he’s not allowed. That knowledge lingers with him. He’s waiting on Bones’ every order. He doesn’t have to make decisions for himself, he just needs to stay within the parameters of what Bones wants. He lets himself smile meekly at Bones, whose own face configures into something which hints at his faint amusement, belied by the harshness in his eyes.

“Let’s see how well you can use your mouth,” Bones says as his index finger catches Jim’s chin to bring him forward. Jim keeps his back in a straight line, even as he begins to lean forward. The first tentative flick of his tongue over Bones’ head pulls a hiss from his throat and Jim’s heart flutters to hear hit. Between the gentle praise and Bones’ clear enjoyment of the situation Jim doesn’t know how he’s going to hold off blowing his load all over the floor.

Jim wraps his lips around the head, sucking gently before tonguing along the slit. His mouth closes an inch. He’s trying to make his mouth a tight cavity for Bones’ cock but his teeth tug over the flesh and Bones hisses in a decidedly unpleasant manner.

“Pain for you,” he murmurs, dragging Jim’s head away from his crotch, “no pain for me.”

Jim looks at him apologetically, murmuring “’m sorry,” earnestly before his gaze settles back on Bones’ cock. He wants to ask for another chance, even if he might not deserve it. But Bones brings Jim’s head back to his cock and Jim eagerly takes him in, swallowing as much of Bones as he can manage. He keeps it simple this time, tongue flat along Bones’ underside; Jim imagines what Bones will see, the eager bobbing of a blonde head in his lap. The thought does nothing for Jim but knowing that Bones’ hands are tightening in his hair, tugging at his scalp. That does a lot of Jim.

“Don’t you dare come without permission,” Bones growls, and it only serves to push Jim closer to the edge, “you ask for it, James,” he babbles, close to his own orgasm, “you ask for everything.”

Bones comes with one last deep thrust, holding Jim’s head in place until he gags; but Bones rides through his aftershocks, seemingly more fulfilled by the sound of Jim’s stuttered choke. His face is a mess, spit slicking his chin and the back of his throat feels raw, but when Bones finally pulls away and looks down at Jim with an adoring, proud smile, he feels beautiful.

Jim looks at him expectantly, wondering if he’s allowed to wipe his chin.

“You look so pretty, all wrecked like that,” Bones murmurs, moving to push a few blonde hairs off of Jim’s forehead. “Would you like to come, James?”

“Yes,” Jim nods frantically, cock a constant weight pressed against his stomach.

“Yes, what?” Bones demands sharply.

“Yes, please,” Jim breathes, “please may I come?”  

“No,” Bones smirks, “stand over the desk, ass out.”

Bones,” Jim pleads, not even sure if he’ll be able stand.

“Now,” Bones intones gravely, “an’ quit your whinin’.”

Jim clambers onto his feet, legs feeling like they belong to a new-born foal. He clutches the edge of the desk and waits to hear Bones stand from the sofa and stride over him. He hears the waistband of Bones’ pyjamas snap as Bones resets them over his hips.

“Touch yourself now, James, but don’t come yet,” Bones instructs, “I’m gonna spank you, an’ you’re gonna keep count. Do you remember your numbers?” It’s patronising and a part of Jim wants to snap that he’s a Starfleet Captain. But another part, the part fuelled by lust and need wants to be spoken to like this. It makes him heady; he couldn’t have a single thought left in his head and Bones wouldn’t mind; he doesn’t expect anything from Jim, just compliance. “Well?” Bones prompts.

“Yes,” Jim says breathily, wrapping his hand around his cock, “I remember.”

“Good,” Bones murmurs, pressing at kiss to the back of Jim’s slightly clammy neck. The first slap stings, but it’s a surface ache, harder than the start before maybe, but not by much.

“One,” Jim gasps. Two and three and four follow on quickly all on the same cheek, and it pushes Jim so close to the edge he can barely think, let alone count out ‘five’ when Bones’ hand changes tact and comes down heavy on the opposite thigh, the ache ebbing right down to the back of his knee. The sound resonates through the room and Jim has to bite his lip to stop himself from coming. But the spark of pain is quite delightful too so he squeezes the base of his cock instead: a last resort.

“Five,” he whimpers, “can I come, Bones, please, I’m so close, can I come, let me come,” he babbles, hips stuttering irregularly, pressing back into the warmth of Bones’ hand.

“One more,” Bones says, “an’ then you can come.” Bones’ hand slaps against the centre of Jim’s tingling thigh and Jim’s hand speeds up as he draws closer to his climax. “You’re such a good boy,” Bones whispers, hot tongue deftly licking over Jim’s shoulder, “come on, James, come now.”

And Jim does, comes on fucking command. The force of it leaves him breathless, but Bones is there, warm and sweatshirt soft behind him, hands now perched on Jim’s hips. Jim leans back, leans into the comfort of Bones’ body and lets his head roll back onto Bones’ shoulder, smiling when Bones kisses his cheek.

“You did good, Jim, real good,” Bones murmurs, coming back to himself, “I want to cream you, just to sooth you a bit. Don’t want you bruising.”

“I want to bruise,” Jim says, eyes widening at the shock of his own request. Bones eyes darken, lashes fluttering like he’s aroused all over again.

“At least let me kiss it better,” Bones whispers, hunger rough in his throat, “let’s shower first.”

“Bones,” Jim says, slightly worried; he’s not sure if he’s ready to have his ass played with, not like that.

“Just my lips,” Bones counters, like he can read Jim’s mind, “and just your cheeks.”


True to his word, all they do is shower together before Bones lays Jim out on the bed, stomach down, and proceeds to suck ten lovebites into the back of Jim’s thighs and ass cheeks. Jim doesn’t have to count aloud, but he does so in his head anyway. It’s like a security blanket, and Jim’s starting to understand the submissive thrill inside him. Maybe Bones was right; maybe this is the one way he can get out of his head, a way to counterbalance his everyday responsibility.

“Can I look?” Jim asks, it’s around noon now, and they’re both wrapped up in the sheets, Bones still in his sweater and pyjama pants but Jim’s only put his t-shirt back on.

“I guess,” Bones shrugs, letting his arm slip away from Jim’s waist, “would you like me to come with you?”

“Is that silly?” Jim asks, unsure.

“No,” Bones shakes his head, “anyway, I’d like to see, if you don’t mind.”

“So you can appreciate your handiwork,” Jim realises.

“Yeah, gotta get my kicks somehow,” Bones smirks and Jim can’t keep the grin off of his face.

“How did I not know this about you?” Jim mutters, more to himself than to Bones.

“You didn’t know it about you neither, to be fair,” Bones shrugs.

The mouth shaped bruises are daintier than they feel and his ass cheek is still more red than bruised, although there is certainly a richer colour to the back of his thigh. Jim likes the sight of it more than he thought he would and Bones shows his appreciation in a gratuitous make-out session before he has to go to his 1400 clinic shift.

“I’ll be home about 0800 tomorrow,” Bones says, “I’ll sleep for seven hours, so uh, let’s do an early dinner around three?”

“I’ll be there,” Jim smiles wide, eager, excited.






Jim doesn’t have a clinic shift, obviously, so he heads over to Gaila’s. He decides that if he’s going to come out, and if he’s going monogamous, Gaila should be the first person to know. She’s not living in her dorm anymore, she and a fellow Orion girl, one that Jim’s not exactly proud to have mistaken Gaila for once before. He blames whatever shit Bones pumped him with that made his hands swell and his tongue die in his mouth. Jim smirks at the thought of Bones doing it on purpose, but Bones is right, the medical stuff is different: it’s not sexy pain.

He hasn’t seen Gaila as much as he would have liked to; he had a lot of making up to do after the Narada, especially with the shock of almost losing her on the Farragut. Just one shuttle, Jim thinks, one shuttle and fifteen people and that’s all that survived out of all those ships that proceeded the Enterprise into the fray with Nero.

He feels a wave of relief rush through him, and if their greeting hug is a little tighter than usual neither of them comment. 

“I’m starting up a thing with Bones,” he explains after their initial catch-up dries up. He’s barely even noticed how great her cleavage looks in that shirt and he feels a rush of pride, “we’re not defining it really, not yet, but it’s an exclusive sort of thing.”

“That’s exciting,” she grins, “is he rather big?” she asks unashamedly, “I always imagined him to be-”

“Yeah,” Jim nods, unable to help the blush; only Gaila could get away with talking like this and, if he’s honest, he’s always loved that about her, “I mean, I’ve only really got myself for comparison, and porn I guess,” he considers, “but yeah.”

“Does he bottom? I mean,” Gaila frowns, “he strikes me as the toppy type, but you’re… well when straight boys go gay they’re usually a bit funny about things finding their way into their ass.”

“We haven’t,” Jim shakes his head, “not yet. I’ve blown him though, and so I can attest to his size.”

“Interesting,” Gaila says, and she eyes Jim like she can see right through him, like she can feel his desire to feel the weight of Bones inside him. Maybe she can; she’s sexually very perceptive, even for an Orion. Maybe he’s radiating submissive, maybe he’s rank with the scent of it. “Well, I’ll be sad not to see you naked anymore. It’ll be hard to find someone who dedicates as much time and effort to cunnilingus.”

“I’ll be coming to you for tips now,” Jim jokes and Gaila gives him a smug little look, linking their fingers.

He watches out for other men on his walk back to campus. He quickly narrows down the yeses from the noes. There are few yeses, but there is a definite trend: broad shoulders, broader than his for certain; taller too, but only by a fraction; dark hair; sun-kissed skin. Bones, for want of a better description, except none of them have Bones’ eyes, or his hands – an absence which leaves Jim unimpressed. He wants Bones. Plain and simple.

Some men are hot, some women are hot but Bones is what gets Jim going. And that’s more than enough right now.


“What’re we gonna do now?” Jim smirks, bounding into Bones’ dorm like a puppy just let off its leash.

“There’s that pizzeria up by the bay,” Bones suggests.

“You mean when you said an early dinner that’s exactly what you meant?” Jim frowns.

“Well yeah,” Bones snorts, “gotta eat, kid.”

“Right,” Jim says, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Same old Jim and Bones,” he says, hazel eyes looking uncertain, “right?”

“Yeah,” Jim says, feeling silly, shaking his head, “of course, I just, I’m ah, interested, I guess, in doing more.”

“Greedy,” Bones whispers, kissing Jim’s temple before slapping his un-abused ass cheek, which is just the sort of nudge Jim needs to be out of the dorm and back in the corridor. He laughs at Jim’s look of indignation, and, even though Jim’s determined not to let it, his pout turns into a smile. 


They don’t do anything remotely sexual for two days. Jim wonders if it’s something he’s done but Bones reassures him that it’s just that they need time for everything to sink in. They need breathing space, and Bones needs to know that Jim is certain, that he’s not getting swept up.

“I still want it,” Jim states on the third evening; they’re eating the lasagne that one of Bones’ nurse-friends made him, “I’m not just experimenting, this isn’t a phase, this is who I am, and I want more.”

“Are you talking about pain things or sex things?” Bones asks, setting his plate down to take a long sip of water. Jim watches the shift of his throat as he swallows and wonders what it would be like to be strangled.

“Both,” Jim says, “I want—I want you to fuck me, and then I want you to make me scream.”

The room falls silent as Bones considers what Jim’s just said.

“Can’t I make you scream while I fuck you?” Bones smirks and Jim flushes, looking down at his pasta. “I’m kidding, Jim,” Bones assures. “Your first time should be… simple, free of the other stuff.”

“You don’t bottom, do you?”

“Very rarely,” Bones agrees. “Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know,” Jim says. “I’d like to fu- I’d want to top one day; when you’re ready obviously.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” Bones scoffs. “It’s something we’ll work up to.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” and Bones looks at him strangely. “You fucking me, I mean.”

“Oh you have, have you? And have you done anything about it?” Bones asks, and Jim doesn’t understand; his eyes say as much. “Have you used your fingers?” he prompts.

“Oh,” Jim swallows, heart fluttering embarrassedly. “I hadn’t even though about…” he trails off, blushing.

“It’s alright,” Bones says, “you need to let your food go down first, an’ then you’ll need to shower, an’ ah, sort yourself out.”

Jim’s eyes dart to the bathroom, his neck starts to feel blotchy as he realises what Bones is saying, “do you,” he looks down, “do you have-”

“There’s a kit in the bathroom,” Bones nods, placing his hand over one of Jim’s until the blonde looks up, “will you be alright?”

“Yeah,” Jim says nonchalantly, scoffing like the macho asshole he isn’t, “I’ll be fine.”

“Jim,” Bones warns.

“I’ll work it out,” Jim assure him, exhaling.

“I can help if you-”

“No,” Jim says definitely. “Pain yes, submission yes, humiliation? Uh, not so much, or not like that anyway.”

“It’s not humiliating,” Bones says with a smile. “It’s hygiene and it’s important.”

“And I don’t need you to hold my hand while I’m doing it,” Jim snaps.

“Okay,” Bones says gently, “I was just offering. Some s—”

But Bones closes his mouth and huffs, looking away.

“What?” Jim demands. “Some subs what?”

“They enjoy the security; they like their Doms to take the lead on everything,” Bones returns, voice just as hard.

“I’m not just some sub,” Jim grits out petulantly.

“I never said you were,” Bones huffs. “Fuck, Jim,” he snaps, “I was bein’ considerate, you said no, that’s fine, just drop it.”

“Just, just don’t compare me to other people you’ve fucked.”

“Grow up,” Bones gripes. “An’ don’t be so stroppy.”

“Whatever,” Jim pouts, leaving his plate of half-eaten lasagne on the side and reaching for a beer.

“If you want to play tonight, you don’t drink,” Bones states and Jim makes a pathetically annoyed noise, little more than an angry puff of air really.

“You’re telling me when I can and can’t drink?” Jim questions, frustrated.

“I’m telling you that I won’t play if you’re drunk. Consent is important an’ I can’t get that from you if you’re drunk.”

“I’m not gonna get drunk off of one beer!”

“Don’t yell at me,” Bones scowls, “that’s my rule. I’m not telling you you can’t drink I’m just saying I won’t be fucking you if y’ do.”

“I just want you to hold me down and fuck me,” Jim says, sliding the beer back into the fridge and slamming the door, wincing at the way it rocks slightly. “You’ve barely done more than kiss me in two days… was I not good, the other night? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Bones shakes his head emphatically, his hands suddenly cupping Jim’s jaw, bringing their gazes together, “God, no,” he breathes, “you’re so good, Jim,” Bones promises, “I just, I didn’t want you to feel pressured, like you had to do stuff just for me. I wanted you to be sure you wan’ed it.” 

“I do,” Jim says weakly, desperately. “Please.”

Bones’ eyes close and Jim can feel the controlled rise and fall of his chest, pressing him back into the fridge. “You’re stunning, do you know that?” Bones says, “you asked me the other day what I found attractive about you? Half of it has got nothing to do with how pretty your face is, or how pretty your ass is,” which draws a little smile from Jim. “It’s that brain of yours and how damn brave you are. Stubborn too; it wouldn’t be have as fun to make you squirm if I didn’t know how strong you were. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this, I don’t want you to feel obliged, beholden to me; an’ even if you did want to be someone’s sub, it shouldn’t, I’m not assuming that you want me. I can’t, I wouldn’t.” Bones is rambling now and that’s how Jim knows this means a lot to him, and that it’s something that he’s thinking about just as much as Jim is.

“I want you, Bones. As my Dom, as my lover, as my boyfriend, as my best friend still,” Jim says, and it feels so freeing to say it aloud, to put all his cards out on the table. He thought it would be more difficult to say all this stuff to Bones, but then, Bones has been telling Jim to ask for what he wants.

“Always, Jim,” Bones nods, “an’ the rest? We can give it a damn good try.”

“Good,” Jim grins, “I’m gonna shower, I’ll be out in a while.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Bones says, starting to scrape the plates.

“I will.”


Jim has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, that’s about the only thing he’s certain of. But there are instructions and once he realises the purpose of the douche he kind of works it out for himself. It’s awkward at first, even though he’s alone, because Bones is in the other room and he knows Jim is in the shower doing this. But once the water is running clear he feels better about it. He feels cleansed and ready. He scrubs the rest of his body, stands under the spray for a few minutes, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. Once he’s calmer he turns off the faucet and steps out of the shower, towelling himself dry. Jim spends a moment putting everything back the way he found it. Bones is a stickler for neatness after all. 

Jim keeps the towel around his waist as he enters the bedroom; Bones is sat on the sofa reading over something on his PADD. 

“Lie on the bed,” Bones says, getting up and setting aside whatever he was reading. He pulls off his black t-shirt, folds it and sets it on the back of the sofa, “close your eyes, Jim,” he instructs. Jim wants to be able to watch Bones but that isn’t on the agenda apparently so he closes his eyes, keeps his breathing steady. “Relax,” Bones whispers, and he’s suddenly closer, in between Jim’s legs, unfolding the towel from Jim’s front.

“Can I open my eyes?” Jim asks, just as he feels Bones’ teeth scrape lightly over the jut of his hip bone.

“Sure,” Bones says, voice honey sweet and faintly amused. Jim looks down the length of his body and he’s met with a steady hazel gaze, a mess of dark hair and wide, sun-kissed shoulders. It’s the most perfect picture, the masterpiece of his life thus far. “Knees up,” Bones directs, slipping his hands under Jim’s thighs to help motivate the movement.

Jim feels exposed now, and he’s slightly nervous, but his hips buck when Bones blows pointedly over his hole, hands squeezing the back of his still-sore thighs.

“Oh,” Jim gasps, revelling in the deep sound of Bones’ answering chuckle.

Jim watches Bones squeeze lube onto his fingers, warming it with the repeated rub of his thumb. Jim can’t help but suck in a breath when the slickness begins to circle his hole, “relax, Jim,” Bones repeats, kissing the inside of his leg.

The first finger is weird, Jim thinks: not too much; not uncomfortable at all. It’s wet mostly and the stretch is minimal. It’s Bones’ middle finger, and it curls upwards, dragging over his inner wall, pulling at the muscle. He only pushes in four or five times before his ring finger is nudging at Jim’s hole. The burn is noticeable now, but he feels noticeably full too and it’s a good feeling. Bones angles for Jim’s prostate this time too and Jim’s cock is rock hard from the assault. Jim reaches for his cock but stops half way, waiting for Bones’ nod of permission. He’s granted one and he sighs in relief at the feel of his own grip.

“Easy though, darlin’,” Bones murmurs. “Don’t want you comin’ just yet.”

“I won’t,” Jim promises, tightening his grip slightly, “I swear.”

“Good boy,” Bones whispers, voice still without the edge it adopts when he plans to hurt Jim. The praise is always a turn-on though.

Bones spends ages fucking Jim with two fingers, only adding his index finger when Jim is loose and panting.

“Harder,” Jim whimpers, “please.” And immediately he can feel Bones’ nails scraping over his insides, the pads of his fingers pressing roughly into Jim’s prostate; his balls feel strained and heavy between his legs. “Yes,” he gasps, “fuck.”  

“I want you so bad,” Bones growls, licking a line down Jim’s thigh, nipping lightly at the end of the wet trail. “How’re you feeling, Jim?”

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, words tumbling debauchedly from his mouth, “fuck me.”

“Ask nicely,” Bones says.

“Please fuck me, Bones,” Jim asks.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Bones, please,” Jim whimpers, “please, please, please,” he babbles.

“Mmm,” Bones hums appreciatively, drawing back his fingers, “you want it bad, huh?”

“So bad,” Jim agrees, “I wanna feel you.”

“Okay, Jim,” Bones murmurs, pressing kisses up Jim’s body, “wrap your legs around my waist,” Bones instructs, picking up the condom from the bed, tearing the foil and rolling it down the length of his cock before pressing to Jim’s entrance and guiding it in. Jim knows there is a plethora of emotions contorting his face right now: pain, pleasure, need. He sees a kaleidoscope of colours behind his resolutely shut eyelids. He clings to Bones with his thighs, moaning when Bones takes hold of his wrists and pushes all the way in.

“Open those baby blues for me, Jim,” he whispers, more request than order, “let me see you.”

Blue eyes flicker open, their chests heave together, pressing against each other. “Go on,” Jim whispers meekly, “I’m ready.”

Bones doesn’t hold back, and Jim is yelping and moaning and whimpering with pleasure and delight, only heightened by the painful bite of Bones’ nails on his wrists.

“Can I come?” Jim hisses quickly, the most important question of all.

“Yeah, baby,” Bones nods, pressing his lips into the crook of Jim’s neck. “You can come now. Let me feel you.”

 Jim threads his fingers into Bones’ hair as he comes, tensing around Bones who thrusts into the tight heat once, twice, thrice more before coming himself. He slumps onto Jim, hips jerking with a wave of small tremors before he stills, pulling out gingerly and rolling off the condom, throwing it into the wastebasket beside the bed.

“You’re real sensitive,” Bones says gently, but when Jim cracks an eye open he’s smirking, very satisfied with this new piece of information.

“I’ve never really, I mean… a girl fingered me once. I came so fast it was embarrassing,” Jim laughs breathlessly.

“It’s wonderful,” Bones says, “that you can come just from prostate stimulation. It’s gonna drive me crazy,” he groans, although he still sounds excited.

“Glad to be of service,” Jim purrs, turning into Bones who welcomes him easily with an open arm and a kiss to the forehead.

“Can we use toys?”

“Toys?” Bones frowns confusedly.

“Yeah, a paddle or crop or cane or,”

“Oh like props,” Bones looks relieved. “I thought, I don’t know what I thought... Although tying you to the bed and watching you squirm with a vibrator shoved inside you sounds like a real pretty picture.”

When this became normal breakfast chitchat Jim doesn’t know, but it’s the least awkward morning after he’s ever experienced. He thinks he’s going to enjoy calling Bones his boyfriend.

“That sounds good,” Jim says, pulling out his PADD and typing it out.

“What’re you doin’?” Bones asks amusedly, pouring milk over his cereals.

“Adding it to the list.”

“This list?”

“I have a list,” Jim says, “of scenarios I like the sound of, things I’d like to try.”

“Am I gonna get to see this list?” Bones asks.

“Sure,” Jim says, hesitantly handing it over, trying not to feel as mortified as he does under Bones’ scrutiny.

“No choking,” Bones says almost immediately, like his eyes are automatically geared to see that one word above all others, “ever.”

“But if I’m okay with it-”

“I’m not,” Bones counters, “it’s a hard limit and I won’t negotiate, Jim, not on that, it’s too dangerous. Remember what happened with that damn hobgoblin on the Bridge?”

“That was different, he was trying to hurt me,” Jim scoffs, “although now the erotic in erotic asphyxiation is completely ruined for me, thanks.”

“Good,” Bones huffs, “because it’s dangerous not erotic.”

“Okay,” Jim drones, “jeez.”

“I’m sorry,” Bones says after a while of tense silence, “I shouldn’t have snapped, but it is a non-negotiable limit for me.”

“Alright,” Jim says, feeling slightly easier, “I was thinking that you might use something on me later though.”

“You want something deep or something sharp?”

“Sharp,” Jim says, “although I do like the bruises.”

“I have something that might sort you out on both fronts there, but it doesn’t include a prop; we could try the crop though, tonight, and what I’m thinking of at the weekend maybe?” Bones suggests.

“What are you thinking of?”

“Trust me,” Bones says, “it’s nothing too intense. You’ll like the surprise.”


Jim goes to a meeting he has scheduled with Pike, a briefing for his Captaincy, and Bones hands in the final appendixes to his Psychology PhD. All in all it’s been a big day for both of them but, as promised, Bones is waiting for Jim when he gets home. He’s clad in navy sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which is strange with the addition of the crop that he’s tapping lightly against his thigh. It’s an absent motion; he’s obviously thinking about something. Jim hopes it’s him. 

“I didn’t expect leather but this is a bit,” Jim pauses, not wanting to use the word but finding little else that fits, “normal.”

“Leather makes me clammy,” Bones smirks at the slight shock in Jim’s eye, “I like to be comfortable,” is the final explanation he settles on. “How was your meeting with Pike?”

“Dry, but important; he asked after you. I told him we were dating; he thinks you’ll be good for me.” Jim says dryly.

“You don’t agree?”

“Well it made me laugh… I mean, I would of showed him my ass but it probably would have been considered inappropriate.” Jim grins, but Bones doesn’t look as happy.

“I know you’re joking, but I-”

“I am joking,” Jim interrupts, “I’m sorry if that was insensitive.”

“Just don’t like thinking that I’m hurting you,” and Jim gives him an amused look, “okay,” he says, “I love seeing you hurting but I mean in there,” he points at Jim’s head. “An’ in your heart, you know. I wanna protect you, keep you safe, mind and soul; body not so much, but only sometimes.”

“And you do,” Jim says firmly. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, and the crop.”

“You have, huh?”

“Hmhm,” he nods.

“Why don’t you pull down your pants then, James,” Bones instructs and it sends a shiver down Jim’s spine, “then up against the wall: fold your arms an’ rest your head on ‘em.”

Jim follows the instruction down to the letter and he’s glad, actually, that Bones allowed him to keep his shirt on.

“We’ll start with six,” Bones says, “you remember your safeword.”

“I think I can manage six,” Jim huffs.

“Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes,” Jim says, feeling guilty for his backchat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Bones says, like a disappointed teacher, “but in future when I ask you a question you answer it, are we clear?”

“Yes,” Jim nods.

“Spread your legs a little further,” Bones instructs, “ass out more.”

Jim complies, feels the cool air of the room hit his balls and he trembles.

“You’re so good for me,” Bones whispers, landing the first swat. Jim winces but is ultimately comforted by his words, and the small buzz of pain across both ass cheeks. Jim automatically proceeds to count, but stops himself realising that Bones hasn’t told him to. It makes him worry. Should he? Shouldn’t he?

“Would you like me to count?” he asks in a meek voice.

“You sound beautiful when you panic,” Bones whispers, “so eager to please,” he continues, swatting him again, harder. Jim makes a choked, broken sound. He’s already hard and leaking precum over the wall. “Would you like to keep count this time?”

“No,” Jim decides, shaking his head, “I want them faster than I could count them,” he whispers.

“So perfect,” Bones growls, swatting continuously; two, three, four, five, six, Jim thinks, moaning and bucking his hips, cock dragging against the wall. The roughness of it is delicious.

“More,” Jim begs, “I can take more, please.”

Bones goes as far as twelve and then stops, because Jim’s come is all over the wall. He kisses Jim, tells him how good he’s done and lays him on the bed to cream the welts that have formed on his ass.

“I didn’t ask permission,” Jim mumbles.

“You don’t always have to,” Bones whispers, “I like that you couldn’t help yourself; you were already so good, begging for more, so brave,” he kisses the small of Jim’s back, “so strong.”

“Variety,” Jim whispers, “what did you mean, the other day, about Ellis and Henry and Pamela? You used to have three and now you’ve only got one.”

“Shhh,” Bones hushes, pulling Jim’s body to his, “I only want you.”

“Please,” Jim says in a quiet, needy voice. A voice of a man facing a crash.

“Sleep now, Jim,” Bones whispers, “we can talk about it in the morning."


True to his word, Bones sets toast in front of Jim the next morning, sits beside him on the bed and begins talking.

“I’ve only been with Henry ten or so times in the last year and a half; he works for Starfleet as a researcher. He’s off planet a lot but he’s in Starfleet Medical sometimes when there are relevant presentations and such; he’s a switch but he likes the way I am as a Dom, that I’m not all leather and master-slave stuff. He likes a bit of controlled…” Bones hesitates, “bloodplay; I’m a doctor, a trained surgeon, it makes him feel safe. It’s not about the sex with Henry. He comes over, I get a mite knife happy, I hold him through the drop and he heads back off to his other planets.”

“You cut him?” Jim questions. “Do you- do you get off on it too?”

“More than you’d think for someone who sees blood on a daily basis.” Bones admits, “like I said before, it’s different to medical practice, but I’m obviously good at that sort of stuff and Henry enjoys it; needle play too.”

“And Pamela?”

“She,” Bones pauses, “I’ve had sex with her,” he cringes slightly at the statement but continues, “she plays around with a lot of people. I just got on well with her. She likes to be hurt and I like to do the hurtin’,” he grins sheepishly, “but she’ll be happy that I’ve found someone.”

“I’m not worried that you’ll go back to them,” Jim says, realising that’s what Bones thinks, “I’m worried that… that I won’t be enough.”

“You’re more ‘an enough,” Bones says immediately, turning to Jim, “I played around because I didn’t have the sort of emotional attachment that I’d want from a relationship. I do with you though, you’re the whole package. We’ll have variety, we’ll have something all of our own.”

“I just,” Jim sighs, “I’m slightly confused… you said you don’t share and yet here you are with three partners.”

“I don’t share in relationships, Jim; monogamy is important. What I had with them, it wasn’t a relationship, it was just scenes.” Bones swallows, “you’re different anyway; you’re my friend an’ I, I’ve liked you for a while, Jim, but I didn’t think anything would come of it because we were friends. I wouldn’t want an open relationship with you because it’d hurt too much; you’re all I want.”

“Oh,” Jim says, heart swelling wonderfully, “how long?”

“Six months maybe… it hasn’t been clear cut, it’s been a building thing,” Bones admits.

“I feel stupid that we missed all those months,” Jim pouts, kissing Bones’ side.

“Do you worry?” Bones wonders, “about variety?”

“No,” Jim says but frowns, “I mean, I used to sleep around because I was… I used to get bored, but I think, I don’t think I was using my energy right, that this is a much better fit for me. I don’t need to stray because… I’m getting what I need.”

“That makes sense,” Bones says, surprised.

“Can we do what you wanted to do now?” Jim says smirking, “we’re all cleared up on the monogamy thing, now we should have some fun.”

“Friday night,” Bones says, which is a whole day and a half away, “so you can have the weekend to recover.”

“Will I need it?”

“I don’t know.”


They go to their classes, meet for lunch with Nyota and have a beer with Scotty before they head home Thursday night. It’s like slipping into the oldest sweater you own, coming out together as a couple. Easy and fitting and so damn comfortable. Nyota smiles, and Jim finally feels like he’s done something right for once. Scotty just laughs and makes a joke about Bones keeping up with Jim’s sex drive. Bones shrugs it off with a smirk; it’s Jim who blushes like a virgin.

They curl up and watch an old movie that evening, eating an Indian take out even though Bones mutters about Jim eating his weight in rice.


Friday, by contrast, seems drag on painfully. It takes forever for the clock to turn from 0800 to 2000 and even though it’s a jam-packed day for Jim in terms of meetings and classes, and even an engineering lecture he decides to attend with Gaila and Scotty, all he can think about is Bones. 

What is Bones planning? The question goes around in his head. The anticipation splits in two strands: one is a tangible pull of frustration. He wants it now; he’s impatient, impetuous; he’s Jim Kirk. The other strand is doused in trepidation; a subtle fear that gives way to arousal, to a need so deep he feels himself digging his own nails into his trouser-clad thighs. He wants to be ruined by Bones and it’s built so hot and heavy inside him that he just can’t wait.

He goes to Bones’ at half five, slightly earlier than they had both agreed but if he has to beg for attention he will. And Bones will give in. Won’t he?


“No,” Bones says when Jim trails a hand up his thigh, moving to cup Bones’ crotch, “you ask permission to touch.”

“Can I touch you?” Jim returns almost spontaneously.

“No,” Bones states, swiping across the screen of his PADD, “I said seven and that’s when we’ll start.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Jim whines, setting his head down in Bones’ lap, looking up at the doctor with a pout and big, pleading, doe eyes.

“Call it a test in patience,” Bones says levelly, “and for every breach I’ll add a swat to the caning you’re getting Tuesday.”

“Why Tuesday?”

“Because you don’t have anything planned Wednesday morning,” Bones smirks. “I’ll let you have that question, but talking from now on is most definitely a breach; and anyway, remember your start count is six to begins with, Jim, so don’t push it.”

Jim makes a discontent sound but doesn’t move his head from Bones’ lap; he turns onto his side, rubbing his cheek against the rough material of Bones’ jeans. He can feel Bones chuckle more than hear it, and soon enough a hand is carding through Jim’s hair.

“It’s like dotin’ on a puppy,” Bones scoffs, “so impatient and needy,” he murmurs. Jim turns around to scowl at him but it just seems to make Bones more amused.

Then it dawns on Jim: he’s baiting me. Well Jim’s smarter than that; he won’t be so easily led into a trap. He’s a Captain now; he has to know when to control his outbursts.

“Such a slut,” Bones whispers, racking his nails over Jim’s shoulders, catching and pulling the neck of the t-shirt until it digs in the other side. Jim’s heart begins to race. This, the foreplay to the foreplay is just as important, Jim reckons. Pain is just pain if he’s not turned on, so, he figures, Bones goes to great lengths to make sure he’s very turned on.

“Your slut,” Jim says playfully, something like pride in his voice. He turns his face the other way so he’s facing Bones’ stomach; he’s wearing a navy long-sleeve today and it’s ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of skin. Jim darts forward to trace the warmth with his tongue.

“That’s seven and eight,” Bones says, tapping Jim on the bridge of the nose, “an’ if you can’t behave then you can sit alone on the bed.”

“Can I be naked?” Jim smirks.

“Nine, Jim,” Bones warns, “an’ the cane is worse ‘an the crop.”

“I’m not scared,” Jim pouts.

“Ten,” Bones says and he looks cross now, his voice is losing that familiar loose curve. Jim sucks in a breath, looking immediately apologetic. “Sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, back straight,” Bones orders, eyes settling back on his PADD, doing his best to ignore Jim as the latter skulks across the room. Sitting down heavily, Jim sighs but makes no further remark and tries not to watch as the seconds flash by on the chrono.


Jim feels every minute of the hour and a half he sits on the bed waiting and he nearly jumps out of his skin when Bones’ firmly orders, “take your clothes off, James,” reverberates through the otherwise silent room.

He complies quickly and efficiently, folding his clothes like its second nature now before he sits back down on the bed. Jim keeps looking straight ahead until Bones is standing before him, at which point Jim looks up to see a lascivious smile that makes his cock stir impatiently.

“Lie down, legs spread,” Bones instructs, watching like a tiger stalking its prey as Jim shuffles back on the bed, sinking his head into the pillows, leaving his legs open. Artfully askew, he thinks.

Bones spreads his legs further with two strong hands, and settles his shoulders under the bend of Jim’s knees. Heat radiates from him, through his t-shirt and onto Jim’s cool skin. It feels so good: like pressing your fingers to a hot radiator when you’ve just come in from the cold.

The first pinch of Bones fingers against the inner seam of his thigh is an unpleasant shock; it burns and Jim yelps feebly.  He’s defenceless against Bones’ pincers, but soon the pain gives way to something more intoxicating. Something sharp. Jim feels his cock hardening and Bones grins to see it.

“Good boy,” he whispers, Bones’ breath raising the hairs on his thighs. “How’s this feeling, James; talk me through it?”

“Uncomfortable,” Jim admits, “but I—”

He doesn’t want to say it, but Bones pinches him hard, high up on the crest of his thigh with only the slightest slip of skin and he gasps, “I love it.” Jim shudders. Bones moans, cooling his forehead against Jim’s other leg, pressing a kiss into the skin.

The insides of Jim’s thighs are purpling, turning black by the end of the next hour and Jim is bucking his hips intermittently and crying out for release. He’s rock hard, and he aches and Bones is relentless, pinching over already bruised skin.

“Please, Bones, let me come, let me come,” he begs.

“Would you like my fingers, James?”

“Yes,” Jim nods frantically.

“Ask then, darlin’,” Bones reminds.

“Please finger me, please, please I need,” Jim breaks off, whimpering at the warmed lube slicking over his hole. His legs fall open even wider and presses back onto Bones’ finger when it slides inside him. “Please, please, please,” he continues, beseeching for more and more. Bones is rough with the second finger and Jim wails until his throat is dry.

“Wait until I say you can come, James,” Bones warns, licking over the mass of flecked bruising that has taken over Jim’s right thigh.

“Please,” Jim insists, bucking his hips. Bones bites down on Jim’s left thigh and Jim screams to prevent himself from coming.

“Hey now,” Bones eases, “quietly, James; we’ve got neighbours.”

“Please,” Jim whispers, eyes stinging.

“Are you gonna cry for me, James?” Bones whispers, licking over his bite mark.


“So broken, so ruined,” Bones murmurs, reverent and awe-filled, “come for me, James,” he bites down on Jim’s bruises again, feeling Jim clench around his fingers.

“Thank you,” Jim whispers, once his breathing has returned to normal. Bones still looks at him like a predator would, though, and Jim realises their scene isn’t over.

Jim doesn’t know when Bones took off his pants and underwear, but he’s naked when he drags himself onto his knees and Jim’s mouth drops open at the sight of a hard chest, licking his lips at the thick dark hair that leads from Bones’ naval, down, down, surrounding Bones’ cock, which stands proud and eager, precum coating the slit.

“How do you feel about being marked with my come, James?” Bones asks, voice like gravel.

“Do it,” Jim pleads, “I want you to.” Bones smirks, and Jim can hear the ask for it bouncing around his head and his throat, like his vocal chords have savoured it from Bones, ready to parrot it back to Jim whenever he needs to hear it. “Come all over me,” Jim begs, “I want you to coat me with it, please.”

“Such a clever boy,” Bones says, taking his cock in his hand and leisurely rolling his wrist.

The come stings slightly against his bruised skin, abraded in places from Bones’ nails; it’s on the front of his thighs too, and on the arch of Jim’s groin, dripping down over the curve of his ass.

“You’re so beautiful, Jim,” Bones says, eyes appearing like molten gold in the dim light of the room. He smudges his fingers into the mess Jim made of his stomach, Jim’s abdomen shifting reflexively. Bones guides his fingers to Jim’s lips, who opens his mouth without tearing his gaze away from his lover. The taste isn’t unfamiliar but this act is; being fed his own come bit by bit from Bones’ fingers, while said server looks down at him like he’s a Prince from a faraway land. It’s unreal, surreal, and wonderful.

“Let’s shower,” Bones murmurs, holding his clean hand out for Jim to take, guiding him to the bathroom, and wincing at the sight of Jim’s discomfort. The shower seems to be the sign that the scene has ended. The bathroom is a mutual place where Bones kneels before Jim and washes his ankles, calves, works cream into Jim’s thighs, kisses his kneecaps, the bridges of his feet. They make love in the shower, and the only sign of Bones’ dominance is the steady press of his fingertips into Jim’s hips as he thrusts steadily into him from behind, Jim’s forehead leant against the cool tiles.

Jim’s hips are indented with purple, but if they weren’t, Jim thinks quietly to himself, he’d have been slightly disappointed.


Bones, the giver of aftercare, is much more like the Doctor McCoy Jim has seen prancing around Medical: he’s unwavering in his treatment; he’s attentive and gentle; and, for the most part, he’s very patient.

“Jim,” he whispers at about 0300 when Jim starts to fidget against him.

“Hmm,” Jim murmurs, pressing his face into Bones’ sternum.

“I need to cream you again,” he finishes, trying to detangle himself slightly. Jim’s cock gives an enthusiastic twitch but Jim quickly realises that isn’t what Bones means. He means turning the lamp on, depriving Jim of his covers to coat his blackened skin in actual cream - more of a gel really; it’s clear but tinted slightly green and smells clinical. Bones is wearing black surgeon’s gloves and it’s cold against his skin. He pouts and Bones looks up at him, kissing the side of his knee in sympathy.

“I know this is less than ideal,” he says, “but I don’t want these to last too long, you’ll end up walking bow-legged.”

“I like them,” Jim says, assessing his left thigh and then his right, “it’s like a paint stain: pinks and purples and blues and black,” Jim lists, “even the weird yellowish edges.”

“When it starts to fade,” Bones says, “when it’s green, I like it best.”

“Really?” Jim frowns, green seems like the worst bruise colour.

“Then I know I can do it again,” Bones nods, and it’s not flirty or set up as an innuendo, it’s a fact. That’s how Bones’ mind works and that startles Jim a bit. He blinks at Bones, who looks down again, gently rubbing the last of the gel into Jim’s skin.

“Tell me about your first time, with that boy, when you were seventeen,” Jim says, it’s offhand and even hits him from left field slightly but Bones just nods and sits back, crossing his legs. A funny choice of position really, for a fully grown man who’s currently naked, but Jim just smiles at him fondly and sits up himself, tucking his cold feet under Bones’ calf.

“I met him a few months before I turned seventeen, after he moved down from Cincinnati. He was a real pretty boy, a shock of white-blonde hair, narrow shoulders, narrow hips, but he was smart and funny and he liked to listen to me talk about going to med school.” Bones smiles, memories flooding back to him. “We started datin’, he turned seventeen a few weeks after me and wan’ed to wait. His grandfather was from Andoria, seventeen is a big thing for their folk an’ I didn’t really mind. It was awkward, that first time… my hands were shaking. It must of hurt, but he was writhing like it was the best damn thing he’d ever felt. We went from there really, were together until I went off to med school in the winter ‘cause I graduated a semester early. He didn’t want to do the long distance thing and he was gonna go back an’ research Andorian literature anyhow.”

Bones looks slightly wistful, like he’s wondering exactly what that boy is doing now, and missing him maybe.

“He was your first love?” Jim wonders. Bones takes a moment to think about it, pulling on a marl-grey sweatshirt. An old one; one of Jim’s favourites.

“Yeah,” Bones nods, “I’d say so. What about you?”

“Her name was Avery. I was fourteen she was fifteen. I was barely inside her a minute before I came and she smiled at me like I was the dorkiest thing she’d ever let near her,” Jim grins, “we didn’t really date, because I was in the grade below her and she was kinda popular, but a few years later, when she was a Senior, she let me take her to prom. I didn’t love her, but she was pretty awesome.”

Bones smiles at that, “you’re not so dorky anymore,” is all he says and Jim just shrugs.

“Better at hiding it, maybe,” he smirks.

“Did you ever hurt him, you know, seriously?” Jim asks, trying not to probe too deep but he’s curious, he just wants Bones to tell him the possibilities, to tell him how deep this might go.

“Cameron,” Bones says, “his name was Cameron, but no,” he shakes his head, “I didn’t really. I didn’t learn just how much I enjoyed inflicting pain until I was about twenty.”

“It hasn’t always been there, then?” Jim wonders.

“No I think it has, just like with you. But there has to be a spark I guess, a trigger, the first domino,” Bones shrugs.

“You and your damn metaphors,” Jim scoffs.

“Yeah, well,” Bones shrugs.

“Are you ever gonna tell me? About how bad it’s gotten?” Jim wonders.

“I’ve never put anyone in hospital,” Bones says, “mostly because I stay away from breathplay; but I’ve made people bleed, Jim, and not just from cutting.”

“I don’t understand,” Jim whispers.

“I used to use the cat quite a bit,” Bones says slowly, “but I had sub, someone I was kind of seeing, but he wasn’t all that committed; he was pushy, always wanted to go for harder and for longer, finding more an’ more edgy stuff. It was a thrill, to be being offered so much; he asked me to flog him until he bled, an’ I did. An’ it was so…” Bones closes his eyes and shifts slightly, “but sometimes I think he should have safeworded. I had to, uh, had to give him stitches, Jim.”

“You don’t use the cat anymore?” Jim asks tentatively.

“I’ve never found the same high from it. I mean, it’s not a hard limit, but it’s not something I ever suggest, haven’t done it since before Joce.” Bones explains.

“That’s heavy,” Jim says, laying his head back down against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. Jim’s never thought about the implication that Bones’ biggest highs are always going to be at the sight of a bruised and battered and bloody Jim. It sets his skin on fire, and he’s not all together thrilled at the prospect. “You were young though,” Jim reasons, “overzealous.”  

“Right,” Bones nods, but it’s not particularly convincing.

“Are there other things I should know?” Jim asks, even though he doesn’t want to.

“I can get mean,” Bones says, “mental hurt just as much as physical hurt. I- I wanna make you cry, Jim. I really wanna make you cry,” he exhales, like it’s a weight off his shoulders. “An’ at the same time I don’t- I wanna keep you safe… I don’t want you t’ ever doubt that. Even when you’re cryin’.”

“I don’t cry,” Jim frowns.

“Ten strikes of the cane? You’ll cry,” Bones scoffs.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Jim huffs, sitting up to shove at Bones’ shoulder. “Have you ever done suspension?”

“Well, I haven’t, but I’ve overseen it. Done the rope work and the rigging and the hooks.” Bones nods.


“It’s a type of body modification,” Bones nods again.

“The skin doesn’t rip?”

“It’s in pretty deep.”

“Christ,” Jim exhales. “Have you done that recently?”

“At a club, about a year ago, for Henry,” Bones nods.

“Are you going to miss it?”

“Not really, not if it isn’t something you’re interested in,” Bones shakes his head.

“It sounds a little extreme.”

“It is. It’s edgeplay and it’s dangerous and it’s a very acquired headspace. I wouldn’t expect you to do it,” Bones assure him.

“What do you like about it?”

“The trust mostly, an’ the power; knowin’ that I’ve tied or bound or pierced ‘em like that, an’ they can’t get down without me,” Bones admits.

“You could tie me up,” Jim offers.

“Maybe,” Bones smirks, “but we’d need to talk about it before hand; because even though there isn’t a lot of immediate pain, it’s pretty demanding mentally. As the minutes and hours draw on you’ll start to panic, worry that I ain’t gonna come back for you. It’s irrational but it’s a fact. I don’t wanna play with that kind of doubt until we’ve been together for a while.”

“But we have, haven’t we?” Jim counters, “best friends for three years, saved the planet together. I trust you with my life.”

“This’ll be different,” Bones says gently, “take my word for it, just for now?” Jim opens his mouth to argue but Bones beats him to it. “I’m going out with Geoffrey tonight,” he says, easily changing the subject, “you wanna come?”

“Sure,” Jim says with a sigh, letting it go for now.


Jim spends the rest of the morning, and well into the afternoon, in bed. Bones explains to him the importance of relaxing and riding through his crash even if he doesn’t feel like he’s crashing. Bones tells Jim he’s beautiful a grand total of fourteen times - yes, Jim remembered his numbers – and while Jim might ordinarily find it irritating, Bones’ constant reassurance and care is really comforting. Maybe he is suffering from a drop; he just wants Bones to hold him.

“You smell good,” Jim mumbles into Bones’ chest.

Bones just continues to stroke Jim’s back, tracing patterns lightly with his fingertips.

 “It’s half four, Jim,” Bones whispers after a while, “we need to get you up and fed.”

“I’m not a kid,” Jim huffs, licking Bones’ nipple.

“Don’t get prissy,” Bones warns, “you need to eat and shower an’ I wanna check your thighs again.”

“I like the bruises and you’re gonna leave them be,” Jim states.

“An’ you’re gonna be happy pulling jeans up over ‘em, are ya?” Bones questions, frowning.


“Fine,” Bones huffs before slipping out of the bed. Jim watches his ass head towards the bathroom and he feels a pathetic pang of neediness. An ass like that definitely deserves desire not desperation, but Jim can’t help it.

“Come back here,” Jim shouts petulantly, pulling the sheet up over his head and pouting into the pillow. He hears Bones’ gentle chuckle as he re-enters the room and curls himself around Jim’s sheet covered body.

“You want me to call Geoff and take a rain check?”

“No,” Jim says, voice muffled by all the fabric.

“Would you like a blow job before you shower?” Bones asks, nudging Jim’s shoulder with the bridge of his nose, kissing him through the sheet.

“Yes,” Jim pouts, pulling the sheet back down over his face.

“Okay,” Bones offers a matching pout until Jim smiles and then draws back the covers so he can slip under them. Jim watches Bones’ head bob under the white fabric and his toes curl each time Bones applies just the right scrape of teeth.

“Fuck,” Jim breaks off before he comes, his hips held firmly in place by Bones’ hands – large and unyielding. Bones swallows around him, but when he presses his lips to Jim’s mouth the presence of his own come is evident. Jim’s tongue chases the taste of himself, swallowing everything Bones has to give him.

“Good boy,” Bones whispers, kissing his cheek. “Now go and shower and I’ll make you some food.”


They’re an hour late but they get to the bar eventually; it’s a quiet place and Geoffrey is still beside a blonde woman who’s hand is linked with a slightly greying gentleman, who Jim vaguely recognises as Roger Korby.

“That’s Christine,” Bones says, “she was Head Nurse on the Enterprise; she should be getting her commission with us.”

“You mentioned her,” Jim nods, “she was good, you said.”

“Fantastic,” Bones agrees, “what’re you drinking?”

“I want you to fuck me later,” Jim whispers, turning his face into Bones’ neck, “does that mean I’m on water?”

“No,” Bones says quizzically before realising, “oh, a’ course not; the other night was different. I was mad an’ I’m sorry.”

“That was bitchy,” Jim counters, frowing, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t apologise, you’re right. I was shitty about it the other day. We’ll talk about drinking and playing more tomorrow. You wan’ a beer?” Bones asks.

“Please,” Jim nods, heading over to Geoffrey and the rest of the table.

It’s so easy: to be together as a couple. Jim barely even notices the difference. Bones’ touch lingers a little longer, and he frowns at some redhead who makes a pass at Jim when they’re at the bar. Jim’s more shocked than anything else; the redhead is decidedly male and it makes Jim feel slightly more confident about his sexuality. It’s a strange feeling that he can’t explain entirely but it’s true. Bones isn’t best impressed at Jim’s self-satisfied smirk but he lets Jim kiss him, pressing him back into the bar.

“Leo!” A voice calls out from the other direction and Bones pulls away from the kiss to look for the source of it.

“Pamela?” Bones questions. It’s most definitely one of three names Jim didn’t want to hear but he can roll with it. He’s James T. Kirk after all.

“This is him, then?” She grins. “Pam,” she introduces with an outstretched hand and a sweet smile. She’s blonde; it’s slightly more golden than Jim’s own hair and it makes him irrationally jealous.

“Jim,” he introduces, taking her dainty hand in his. She doesn’t shake hands with Bones in greeting, she leans into the side of his body instead and he squeezes her shoulder. Jim breathes through it; he’s sure she’s lovely and he hugs Gaila all the time. Bones wouldn’t care, neither should he. It’s just the crash, he tells himself; it’s making him a little crazy.

“I knew he’d be prettier than me,” she jibes, smirking before she takes a sip of the green coloured cocktail she’s holding. Bones just grins at her and looks rather chuffed. The approval settles warm in Jim’s stomach and he takes another sip of his beer.

“You’re not playing tonight?” she asks Bones, nodding at the beer he’s got in his own hand.

“No, just out with some friends tonight,” he says, and Jim is reminded, not for the first time, how established Bones is in all this, which only serves to highlight Jim’s own inexperience even more, “what brings you to a bar like this?”

“Trying out something a little different,” she shrugs, “it’s a bit… rough,” she adds, excitement lighting in her green eyes.

“Pamela’s a classy kinda woman,” Bones whispers to Jim when she turns away, “likes high class wine bars and fancy hotels; the authority makes her feel safe. She likes her playmates educated you know, businessmen and scholars-”

“And doctors,” Jim adds.

“Yeah,” Bones nods, “yeah I guess so.”

“She knew about me,” Jim says, clearly probing for more.

“I commed her that first day, when you asked me to spank you,” Bones murmurs, voice low, “met up with her a few days later out of politeness. My mama raised a gentleman, right?”

“Right,” Jim grins, “she’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Bones nods, “she’s right though, you are prettier.”

Jim’s glad to hear it and he kisses Bones’ cheek to say as much.


Tuesday comes around quicker than he expected it to and all Jim can think about is how determined he is not to cry. He’s got a consultation meeting about his commission but that finished at 1100 and Bones isn’t in the clinic again until Thursday. He’s meant to be having breakfast with Nyota but he and Bones aren’t meeting until 1400, so Jim decides to go for a run, meet Hikaru for lunch which wastes another few hours and means he’s not back at Bones’ apartment until twenty to two. He toes off his shoes and slumps into the couch, feeling nervous and excited in equal measure. Jim realises he hasn’t been back to his own apartment since the previous Friday. He’s even wearing a pair of Bones’ boxer-briefs.

After this weekend they should talk about what they’re going to do after Graduation, which is only two weeks away; when they have to move out of these dorms until the Enterprise is ready for their mission.

“You’re early,” Bones says, setting his keycard on the counter and leaning over the couch to kiss Jim’s temple.

“I had lunch with Hikaru, but there’s only so much plant talk I can handle,” Jim chuckles but Bones shakes his head.

“That ship is gonna be full a’ lunatics,” he mutters, unbuttoning the second button of his shirt. “How’re you feelin’?” he asks.

“Good,” Jim says, turning around on the sofa so he’s kneeling with his chest against the back, “should I… take my clothes off?”

“Just your pants, we’re gonna have to go slow, this is gonna hurt a lot. Why don’t you take a bottle of water out of the fridge, did you eat enough today?” Bones asks.

“I’m fine. I ate loads,” Jim huffs, “but the water sounds good,” he says, hopping up and heading to the fridge, gulping down half the bottle before he feels Bones’ hand on his ass, his lips on his nape.

“That’s enough,” he purrs, “take your pants off, James.”

Jim’s jeans slip off easier now; the bruises on his thighs are light yellows and dusky greens. Jim’s ass is also free of any signs of abuse. His wrists and hips are still marked with finger prints, though, but he like those little reminders, doesn’t know what he’d do without them to keep him grounded.

He likes his slight nudity in contrast to Bones’ denim clad legs. They scrape against Jim’s soft skin as he steers him to the sofa. “Put your hands on the back of the couch,” Bones instructs, “do you remember your safeword, James?”

“Yes,” Jim nods.

“And if you want me to slow down or to ease off, you’re gonna say…?”

“A little extreme,” Jim says obediently.

“Good,” Bones breathes, bestowing one final kiss on the back of Jim’s neck. “Arch your back a touch more,” he instructs and Jim braces himself for the blow, fingernails digging into the rough grey suede of the sofa. “Count these,” Bones reminds gently, “it’ll help.”

There is a moment of silence.

Jim feels numb, like everything is stripped away: no sound; no sight. His eyes are snapped shut; his breath is caught in his chest.

And then the first crack of the cane sounds, snapping against Jim’s skin, and suddenly all there is is noise rushing in his head: the heavy sound of Bones’ breathing; the heaving of his own chest; a strangled moan.

“One,” he whispers.

“Louder,” Bones urges.

One,” Jim cries out, voice already scratchy. The second strike of the cane is sharper still. “Two,” Jim yelps. This is too much, Jim thinks; his ass is too sensitive. Bones was right, it’s too much, too intense, too… “Three,” Jim gasps and feels himself start to grow hard.

“You’re such a good boy,” Bones says, palming his balls from behind, making Jim whimper; but the relief is immediately counterbalanced by another snap, so hard it smacks right through to Jim’s core.

The mouthed four doesn’t cut it. 


“F-f-our,” he stammers, breathing coming shallow and fast.

“Breathe deep,” Bones reminds, “with me, Jim,” he says gently, leaning forward so Jim can listen to his steady breathing and follow it, “in,” they inhale, “out,” they exhale. Jim can feel Bones’ chest press into and recede from his back, comforting and encouraging. “Good boy,” Bones says, kissing Jim’s cheek and standing back again. He rubs circles into the base of Jim’s back for a while until Jim’s breathing has evened out.

The next swing of the cane is biting and Jim curses, forgets to count and gets another spank for his trouble.

“Well?” Bones grits out, but Jim’s mind is racing and he doesn’t remember, he feels like he’s floating. There was definitely three and four.

“Five,” Jim guesses, “and six.”

Another snap of the cane.

“Oh,” Jim moans which quickly disintegrates into a whine and then a whimper, “seven.”

“Told you you’d cry, huh?” Bones says, but his voice is both sweeter and darker than usual; it makes Jim’s hair stand on ends, makes his hackles rise and his cock fill almost uncomfortably. Jim can feel the wetness on his cheek but he can’t stop it, his vision blurring. “Are you gonna safeword, James? Can you handle this?”

“Yes,” Jim says immediately, “please.”

“You were very cheeky the other night, an’ you deserve ten, deserve more even, for that mouth a’ yours; so disobedient, so arrogant, so overreaching. Think you’re invincible, don’t you?”

“No,” Jim whimpers in a small, child-like voice.

“Hmm,” Bones says sounding unconvinced. “Ask for the next one, then, if you’re so brave,” Bones jibes. He is mean, Jim thinks, but it makes Jim heady and determined. It pushes him further to float away, to fly.

“Can I have the eighth strike?” Jim wonders, asks, requests, begs. Pants. He knows he’s panting. He can hear it, like it’s in some vague parallel universe. It’s like watching playback that doesn’t match the sound. Lagged. He’s muddled; things are chaotic, he’s like Alice. Is Bones the Cheshire Cat? Or the Queen of Hearts, maybe? He can’t decide. He can’t hear his own voice over the sound of his heart pounding against his ribcage, but he can feel his mouth move: please, please. He feels the bite of the cane against his ass, feels the scream curl up in his throat, squeezing his voice box. “Eight,” he counts.

Nine makes him want to safeword; it makes him want to run, run, run as far as he can go but Bones will be so proud of him if he manages ten. So he lets the tears spill out again as he wetly whimpers, “nine.”

“One more,” Bones reassures, “you’re so pretty, darlin’, crying for me like this, your ass is so perfect, all red and raw,” Bones is babbling now, “it’ll bruise, sweetness,” he murmurs, “you’ll have them for days, scream for me, Jim.”

“I can’t,” Jim whimpers, clutching at the sofa, spreading his legs wider, the stretch of skin lighting a fire through his nerves, “ten, ten, please I want ten,” he claws at the words, lets out a strangled noise and gets exactly what he asked for. “Ten,” he grits out, and he hears the dull sound of a tear hitting the suede.

“You’re so good,” Bones murmurs, reaching for something on the floor. Jim’s scared, he doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s still hard and he doesn’t know how; his ass is aching, tears are drying on his cheeks. Suddenly there’s a lubed finger inside him, two actually, rubbing relentlessly over his prostate until he can’t hold on, can’t ask for it, just comes all over his stomach, arching his back and fucking himself on Bones’ fingers. He feels the spurt of hot come on his back and ass then, and realises Bones has found his climax too. It feels strangely good to have his red striped ass striped again with come.

They slump forward against the back of the sofa and breathe together for a while before Bones steers Jim into the bathroom.

“Wanna sleep,” Jim mumbles, “just wanna sleep.”

“I know,” Bones says gently, “but I gotta clean you up first, Jim-”

“No,” Jim whispers gently, whimsically, “let me fly.”


Bones says Jim’s subspace is more amusing than worrying to watch, he goes off on philosophical tangents, discourse Bones isn’t always able to follow. It might be because of all the scholarly reading he’s done throughout his life – Jim Kirk is nothing if not an ardent bookworm after all. He talks about space a lot and, Bones assures him, it’s very endearing. There’s a small part of Bones that would like not to have to wash come out of his sheets because Jim refused to shower, but luckily enough Jim was happy to let Bones wash him down with a cloth once he had collapsed on the bed.

From what Jim can remember it’s sort of like being high. Bones says that’s the endorphins that the pain releases, it’s like morphine to help Jim’s body cope with the fight or flight sensation that heavy play often stimulates. It’s also like the first step into a mindmeld, Jim thinks, where the world falls away and it was just him and Bones and sometimes the cane.

“Did I say anything?” Jim asks.

“A few things,” Bones says, “nonsense mostly, but uh, you quoted Shakespeare at me.”

“I did?” Jim frowns. “What was it?”

“From Romeo and Juliet, I think, something about cutting the stars into pieces…”

“When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun,” Jim says, remembering vaguely.

“Yeah,” Bones nods, “that was it.”

“I want it again,” Jim says insistently, “I’ve only got one meeting with Pike, I can cancel.”

“You need to come down from this first; the drop is gonna be worse this time around,” Bones says gently.

“I don’t want to, I want you to hurt me. I wanna be scared, I wanna find that high again,” Jim huffs, “you love it so I don’t know why you’re acting all coy and refusing to do it; you wanna use the cat?”

“That’s not funny,” Bones grits out, “that isn’t a joke.”

He gets out of bed and pulls on a cardigan; it’s one of the many pieces of clothing that Jim’s acquired over the years that he never wears that Bones has apparently stolen. That’s all he’s wearing though and Jim licks his lips.

“Fuck me,” Jim demands.

“Go to sleep, Jim,” Bones huffs, taking a pillow and throwing it at the sofa.

“Don’t leave me,” Jim says, voice suddenly small and child-like; he’s standing in the face of a wave of fear that’s looming; it crashes over him. Bones’ eyes snap back over to him and Jim knows he looks like he’s crying, but he isn’t; it’s just sleep in his eyes.

“Oh, Jim,” Bones breathes, moving back over to the bed; his moves are tentative at first, but he’s confident in pulling Jim against his warm chest, the material of the cardigan scratching against his cheek, “I’m sorry, ‘m not goin’ anywhere, I’m right here; God I’m such an asshole.”

“’s just the drop,” Jim whispers, “I feel crazy.”

“I know; I can’t believe I was gonna let you sleep alone,” he murmurs, kissing the top of Jim’s head, “I’m sorry, I gotcha, I gotcha.”

“I feel ridiculous,” Jim says, wet eyelashes fluttering against Bones’ chest.

“You’re beautiful, Jim,” Bones promises, “what you did was beautiful. You’re so strong, you know that? So perfect.”

“Didn’t mean it about the cat,” Jim whispers, “’m sorry, ’m tired,” Jim continues, yawning. Bones yawns reflexively and shucks back under the covers, wrapping himself tight around the younger man’s body.

“Hey now, don’t you worry ‘bout it. Sleep, Jim,” Bones murmurs, “you’ll feel better in the morning.”


Wednesday is a little odd… he feels snappy but mostly the lag has cleared. Bones has dinner ready when he gets in and makes him drink energy drinks to keep his sugar and caffeine levels through the roof. They spend the evening on the sofa, checking their PADDs, reading with music on in the background. Jim gets engrossed in an article about Cardassian Military History and Bones is editing one of his research papers so it can be published in SFM July’s journal. It’s very domestic, and it’s just what Jim needs to claw back up to firm ground again. Jim gets restless sometime into the evening and shoves his head into Bones’ lap; he’s not reading military tactics anymore, he’s reading a blog article.

“A New Submissive’s Guide to Subspace?” Bones reads, tipping the PADD back slightly so he can see it.

“I’m just trying to figure myself out,” Jim says, eyes skimming over it.

“That’s fair,” Bones says, “but don’t base all of your thoughts on one article. I read this thing when I was starting out, like a beginner’s guide to spanking or something; it was kind of ridiculous in hindsight.”

“I can’t imagine you as a newbie. I can’t imagine you not in control,” Jim admits.

“Well I’m all grown up now,” Bones smirks. “I have an idea, a treat of sorts, something for you – well, not just for you - but not as pain heavy as usual.”

“I like the pain,” Jim insists.

“I know,” Bones says quickly, “but this is something a little lighter, just while you’re still coming back to yourself.”

“What is it?” Jim sits up curiously.

“I’d like to rim you,” Bones says. “Especially knowing how sensitive you are.”

“Oh,” Jim says, his stomach flip-flopping. It sounds like a very vulnerable position to be in, but the trust would be good for both of them. It’s meant to be highly enjoyable too; Jim’s read as much. “I’m gonna shower first,” he says, setting his own PADD down on the coffee table.

“Are you sure?” Bones says, sounding relieved.

“I trust you,” Jim says, shrugging. “And it’s meant to feel awesome, right?”


Jim showers, cleans himself until he’s satisfied, dries off, and heads back into the bedroom, haughtily ignoring Bones who’s stood stock still watching him pad around the room naked. He gets on the bed confidently, perched on all fours, spreading his legs apart and looking back seductively at Bones.

“It’s all yours, Bonesy,” he smirks. “Why don’t you make me beg.”

Bones visibly swallows.

“You have no idea,” Bones says, throwing himself onto the bed and biting Jim’s tender ass cheek, “what you do to me,” he finishes. He growls playfully and pulls Jim’s cheeks apart with the pads of his fingers. Bones licks over Jim’s perineum for a while first, pushing down with the flat of his tongue, but soon Jim is squirming, arching his back to seat himself more firmly on Bones’ tongue.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “fuck, fuck, can I co-me, can I, can-”

“Yes,” Bones growls, coming out muffled with the limited use of his tongue.


After another caning session a week later Jim’s subspace lasts a little longer, but he’s got slightly more control over the drop. Bones writes down the quote he says this time, and explains that Jim was kissing over Bones’ heart while he was rambling.

“It was bizarre,” he smiles, “but flattering.”

Jim reads over Bones’ doctor’s scrawl and immediately recognises it as Jack Kerouac, and Jim reads it aloud, half reciting; “it's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for three seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all.”

“How you remembered all that is beyond me,” Bones says, “I only had the first and last line, had to look it up an’ copy it down like that.”

“It’s accurate though,” Jim whispers, thinking about the dream-like fluidity of his subspace, the lightness, the freedom, “I want another scene.”

“Not so soon,” Bones says.

“A treat then,” Jim says, “like before.”

“What are you thinking of?”

“I want,” Jim looks away, suddenly nervous; he’s been thinking about it for a few days, wants to know what he feels like, “I want you to ah, to spank me, my hole.”

“Your ho-” Bones stops himself, eyes comically wide. “Oh, Jesus, Jim,” he breathes, “did someone give you a list?”

“A list?” Jim frowns, confused.

“Of how’ta hit my buttons?”

“You’re down with that then?”

“Jesus, I’d turn you over right now if you didn’t need the rest,” Bones groans, “we’ll do it later; I’ll rim you,” Bones starts, voice dipping low, “I’ll get you hard an’ begging an’ I won’t let you come an’ then I’ll spread you with one hand an’ take the three middle fingers of the other an’ spank you until you’re screaming.”

“Yes,” Jim nods, “yes that’s what I want.”

“Try and relax for a bit first,” Bones murmurs, “you didn’t sleep much last night an’ it was pretty intense.”

“Only eight this time,” Jim reminds.

“I didn’t want to push you.”

“I can handle it,” Jim huffs.

“I’m worried you won’t safeword,” Bones admits, “because you think it’s a challenge, that it makes you a better man not to.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, Jim,” Bones shakes his head, “it’s so I can keep you safe and learn your limits; it gives you the ultimate veto.”

“I guess. I really haven’t needed to use it though,” Jim promises.

“But you will, if you ever need to?”

“I will.”


They decide to go out on Saturday night, grab a nice meal together and then head home for their prescribed scene. It’s a Thai restaurant to the South of campus; it’s easy enough to walk there especially on a mild night like this. They’re in jeans and t-shirts; it’s nothing fancy but it’s still nice to get out of the dorm and do something that takes a bit more organising than an order placed via PADD or Bones rustling up whatever’s in their fridge. Bones’ fridge. Sometimes Jim’s finds himself thinking of the doctor’s dorm as his own and he’s not sure whether that’s a desired thing on Bones’ part or not. It’s something they need to talk about, will talk about. Tonight.

They sit down and order a platter; they’re both pretty indecisive (read: greedy) when it comes to Thai food and the sharing platter always seems like a good compromise.

“What are we gonna do after Graduation?” Jim says, taking a sip of his lemonade. They had talked about the alcohol thing and Bones explained his reluctance for either of them to drink before a heavy scene. “I get nasty,” he’d reiterated, “sometimes I say not very nice things an’ I don’t think that’d be good for us yet.” He’d also talked about blurring the lines, and that he needed to know that Jim was in his total right mind to use his safeword. Sex was different. If they had a few drinks and Bones ended up with Jim’s cock down his throat it wouldn’t be any different to most couples. “But I won’t take a prop to you when either of us has been drinking,” he’d been firm on that point. Firm on tonight too: “it’s a lot that you’re offering, an’ I wanna be perfectly clear that you’re happy throughout.” So they’d decided to both abstain, even though Jim’s sure Bones would have been okay with Jim having one or two to settle his nerves.

If he reaches subspace though it’ll be more intense if he hasn’t been drinking. Or at least that’s what the chemistry suggests.

“What do you wanna do?” Bones asks. “We’ll have to move out of the dorms…”

“Yeah,” Jim nods, “I was wondering if maybe we sho—”

“Leo!” Jim hears called across the room. People calling Bones Leo is a strange thing; his Medbay companions call him Leonard, like everyone else Jim knows, actually. It was just Pamela who’s called him Leo. Yet those men at the table by the window are certainly not Pamela.

“Hey,” Bones says, slightly tense. He’s been caught off-guard. Jim’s inclined to think this is a Dom sort of thing. They make their way over to the table, lingering closer to Bones than Jim.

The men assess Jim like they would the quality of a new watch: with a critical eye and immediate reservations. He raises his chin and inhales; it’s a posturing thing, sure, but it makes him feel better about himself. He quickly lowers his chin again, worrying over etiquette and not wanting to offend anyone. Ultimately, though, he raises his chin once more because he might be a sub but he’s Bones’ sub and if these guys don’t like that they can eat their Thai food somewhere else.

Jim is Bones’ boyfriend too, which is something neither of them should forget in moments like this.

“He’s pretty,” one of the guys grin.

Jim’s heart takes off out of the starting gate like a stallion that can’t quite be controlled; it gallops around his ribcage with no rhyme or reason until Bones sets his pinky over Jim’s from across the table.

“He’s my boyfriend, Quinn, eyes off,” Bones huffs.

“Both on soft drinks though, right?” Another guy smiles knowingly at Bones and then at Jim. “It’s alright, sweeth-”

“His name’s Jim, Warren, an’ we’re having a meal together so quit your bullshit,” Bones orders. Jim’s a touch turned on by Bones’ anger but also worried at the fringe of consternation that most likely motivates his outburst. Although, Bones’ anger never used to settle as lust in Jim’s core. It’s a learned behaviour, he supposes, or an association thing – like Pavlov’s dog. Jim’s no doubt happier about it than the dog was though.

“Jim Kirk,” the first guy, Quinn, recognises, “hey, uh,” and he looks slightly abashed then. “We were just kidding, giving you shit because it’s Leo, but uh,” he pauses again and looks up at Jim earnestly, “thanks, for saving the planet, you know?”

A surprised laugh bubbles up out of Jim and he half-frowns-half-grins, “you’re welcome, I guess,” he shakes his head, “a lot of other people were around too, though, you know.”

“Right,” Quinn nods.

“Maybe we’ll see you around sometime?” A third man wonders, looking at Bones more than Jim, because obviously Bones makes those kinds of decision. Jim feels slightly irritated by this third guy, but can’t quite work out why. “You could show him off a bit.”

“It’s really not like that, Vince,” Bones says, “we’re a couple, he’s not my pet.”

“Well if you insist,” Vince shrugs, “don’t be a stranger though, ey? People are starting to miss you.”

“Right,” Bones scoffs, “I’ll comm you,” he says vaguely, nodding at Quinn who nods back before extending a grateful smile in Jim’s direction. “Looks like you have a fan,” Bones smirks.

“Just one of many,” Jim jibes.

“So moving out,” Bones says quickly, trying to get back on track, “there’s an apartment I’ve been looking at; you don’t have to, I understand if you want space, but this place has two bedrooms so if,” Bones pauses, looking around at the other tables, “if the drop is bad or you want time out I could… I just don’t want you to feel boxed in.”

“I won’t,” Jim assures him, “hell, it’s gotta be bigger than the place we have now.”

We?” Bones grins.



The dorm is dark by the time they get home. The artificial light from the outside lamps offer a touch of illumination but it’s only enough for Jim to make out the silhouette of Bones’ body as the other man leads him over to the bed.

“Take your clothes off, darlin’,” Bones whispers, keeping his voice low; it’s enticing. Jim obeys eagerly. His hands are shaking too much to fold his things neatly and so he throws them into the laundry hamper instead. “Is that nerves or excitement?”

Jim doesn’t answer; he carefully positions himself on the bed instead and looks back at Bones encouragingly.

“Answer me, James,” Bones huffs.

“Both,” Jim whispers.

“How scared are you?” Bones asks, his voice strong where Jim’s isn’t.

“Not scared,” Jim says, wincing when Bones’ nails biting into the skin of his hips, teeth scraping down his spine.


“Nervous,” Jim amends, “like butterflies.”

“How precious,” Bones chuckles darkly, and Jim feels silly. He doesn’t feel strong, he feels fragile. But Bones is there, and that means he’s safe. He spares a thought as to whether this is what Bones’ meant about being mean. Sometimes Jim feels like he knows everything about Bones and other times he feels as if he hasn’t even scratched the surface. But there is a spark of something else, of the desire to be brought down. This is what Bones does: he challenges Jim, undermines him if he needs to - if Jim needs him to.

Jim is precious: precious like china, easily shattered in this precarious state as Bones’ submissive; but precious meaning rare, too, just how Bones described him all those weeks ago.

“Spread your legs wider, cheek on the bed,” Bones instructs. Jim dips his shoulders forward, edging his legs open further and pressing his chest into the mattress. “Good boy,” Bones praises. “Eager little slut,” he whispers, biting Jim’s ass cheek and pressing his thumb to Jim’s hole, dipping the pad in as much as he can until Jim’s body resists.

“Bones,” Jim whimpers, the rub of dry skin providing a little too much friction. He’s still so tight and Bones’ thumb is warm and soft, yes, but significantly minus lube. 

“Beg,” he orders. “Beg for my tongue.”

“Please,” Jim breathes, wiggling his ass some.


Please can I have your tongue?” Jim whines.

“No,” Bones says, punctuating his statement with the scrape of his thumb nail down Jim’s perineum. “Ask again, an’ be specific.”

“Would you please rim me?” Jim gasps.

“I’m not convinced you want it,” Bones admits dryly, wringing a strangled noise from Jim, who is frustrated and pouty, but no longer nervous. Huh, he thinks, smiling.

“I want it,” Jim says, sounding more confident, “I want you to stick your tongue inside me.”

“So demandin’,” Bones purrs, tongue curling over the dent his teeth has left in Jim’s ass cheek, “let me hear you again, James; ask for it one more time.”

“Please let me have your tongue.”

Eating out takes on a very new meaning for Jim in the moments following his request, Bones is always generous with his body and his spirit, and Jim never has to ask for more; it’s almost like Bones can hear him thinking. Maybe his body betrays Jim in the middle of those really quiet nights when they lay curled around each other, whispering all his deepest, darkest secrets into Bones.

Bones’ tongue is like heavy, wet velvet inside him; the perfect texture to set Jim alight from the inside, his nerves firing like electric circuitry. Jim can hear himself beg for release but it’s a faraway feeling, uncontrollable.

“Don’t you dare come,” Bones grits out, tongue absconding from the tight safety of Jim’s ass. “Don’t you dare,” he growls, squeezing the base of Jim’s cock painfully until Jim cries out, trying to thrust his hips forward, but he can’t because Bones’ other hand is like a vice on his hips. “Come on, James, we had a deal,” Bones states, pulling both hands away to pull apart Jim’s ass cheeks. “What now, darlin’? I forget,” and the smirk is evident in his tone. It’s loud, blaring.

“Spank my hole,” Jim urges. “Make it hurt, please.”

“I want to hear you,” Bones reminds.

Screaming, Jim remembers.

Bones slips a spit slick finger into Jim, pushing down slightly, opening Jim up. The second burns - spit isn’t as silky as lube; it’s rough but Jim loves it because it hurts. Hurts so good.

Bones is as relentless as he is with any spanking. He’s committed; he wants to make it something they both can remember. Jim can feel Bones’ determination on his pucker, that taut, rosy patch of flesh, which is being spanked with the breadth of three long, surgeon’s fingers. They tap against his hole like Bones is trying to practice Morse Code; what message is he trying to send? Jim wonders. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. That’s what Jim needs anyway, and Bones is his Messiah.

Bones smacks a little harder, though it seemed impossible, letting the base of his hand tap against the weight of Jim’s balls. "You like that, James?" Bones murmurs, drawl richer, dark; like spiced Rum: burning. "Like it when I spank your hole?"

Please,” Jim begs, drawing one of his hands up to spread himself wider for Bones. He rolls his hips, trying to get some friction for his cock, which is trapped between the fold of his body, dribbling precum all over his stomach and the bed sheet too, no doubt. “I need, Bones, I need-“

Now that Jim’s cheeks are being viciously pulled apart, his own fingers pressing bruises into his skin, Bones just begins to swat harder, and faster. It’s like the flood gates have opened, the levee’s suddenly burst. Jim’s hips are wiggling with the need to come, trying to put pressure on his cock to halt the process, but he can’t. Especially when Bones’ other hand disappears to cup his bollocks. 

"Use your other hand, James, spread yourself for me," Bones instructs, his spanking paused for now until Jim’s body cooperates. When Bones’ wrist starts flicking again Jim moans; he sounds like a wretched little slut, and Bones says as much. 

"Such a pretty slut for me, huh?" he questions, “come on, James, let me hear you say it.”

“Your slut,” Jim agrees, “your sl-ut,” he chokes out. Bones’ rolls Jim’s balls expertly in his palm, slapping more with the tips of his fingers now, watching as they dip into Jim’s loose hole. “Please, I need to come, let me, please?”  

“Let me hear you,” is all Bones says by way of permission. Jim makes a strangled noise, loud and raw, before crashing into a toe-curling orgasm. Bones just watches on, enraptured, two fingers suddenly deep inside Jim. He continues to watch as Jim throws his head back, hips thrusting forward, out of control. It’s stunning; Bones grins. "You’re so good for me, Jim," he says, awe evident in his voice, "so damn beautiful." 

Jim lets Bones pull him onto his back, pressed up against Bones’ chest; Jim waits for his breath to return to normal. He hasn’t tumbled into subspace, which confirms Jim suspicion that he needs an intense amount of pain for the right endorphin and adrenaline release. It’s a good thing, really, because they’re seeing Nyota and Spock for Sunday brunch and that is going to be awkward enough without Jim facing the drop.


Brunch is nice but, ultimately, uneventful. Jim’s sure everything Spock says is laced with a layer of snark; Bones isn’t convinced Spock is capable of snark but they don’t argue about it. They check out the apartment Bones has found instead. It’s a converted warehouse: very open; lots of light pouring in from the skylight. The ground floor is an open kitchen-diner-lounge and a spiral staircase leads to an overhang which serves as the main bedroom. The staircase also leads down to a long hallway with a study, the second bedroom, a storage room and the huge bathroom.

“When can we move in?” Jim asks the realtor.

“You’re sure?” Bones questions, smiling.

“I’m certain,” Jim says, running his hand over the kitchen worktop, “this place is amazing.”

“It’s a wonderful property,” the realtor agrees, “you could be moved in by the end of the month, just two weeks for us to get everything sorted.”

“Come on, Bones,” Jim says, “we’re graduating on Friday, then we’ve got ten days until we need to be out of the dorms. We could be moving into this.”

“Okay,” Bones says, puffing out a chuffed breath, “let’s do it.”


Graduation goes smoothly and both men pass with honours. Jim gets a commendation, relieves Pike officially as Captain of the Enterprise, and celebrates by riding Bones on the desk in the projection room above the auditorium. They do domestic things like signing their lease and going furniture shopping. Jim insists that they buy a bookcase and fill it with old fashioned books for their study. To give it character, is his argument.

They have one last heavy scene, the night before they have to move out. Jim calls for a timeout on the twenty-first spank of Bones’ open palm and whispers about stars. He remembers reciting Cummings: “yours is the light by which my spirit's born: you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” But the rest of the words fade away from him; he just knows there’s an array of other author’s thoughts making their way out of his mouth: Betazoid physicists; Cardassian astrologists.

He’s flying through a dark sky but Bones is there behind him, keeping his body safe against the chill of the night air. He begs for the last three swats; doesn’t remember it, not really, but he must have screamed because his throat hurts the next day.

They spend their last morning in bed together. Bones reads, sometimes aloud. Jim, for his part, keeps curved into Bones’ chest, tracing one finger over Bones’ ribs. His other hand traces the real paper back notebook, bound in black leather: The Book. He traces over the letters of his own words, the ones he faintly remembers saying; though it’s like recalling a dream.

“Does it put you off?” Jim murmurs, “me falling?”

“I thought it was flyin’?” Bones murmurs.

“Answer the question,” Jim urges.

“No,” Bones says, “it was unsettling the first time; you just, babble. It’s quaint,” he continues, and the word strikes Jim as particularly Southern in its delivery, “but it, it makes me feel even more in control, you’d, you’d let me do anythin’ when you’re like that; you’re jus’ like soft dough. And when it happened yesterday, we were still in play, an’ I, maybe I should have stopped but you, you were talkin’ about stars an’ quotin’ poetry an’ I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so smart, Jim, an’ it makes me-”

“Kinda crazy?” Jim whispers, echoing past conversations.

“Yeah,” Bones scoffs.

“This drop isn’t so bad,” Jim says. He feels kind of clingy but nothing else.

“That’s because you’re relaxing for once,” Bones chides, kissing Jim’s hair, “an’ probably because you’re getting used to it.”


Moving in together goes surprisingly well, especially considering how stubborn both men are; Gaila and Nyota come and help arrange things, and Spock is dragged along to help move heavy furniture. They stay for coffee and a catch-up and both women throw furtive glances at Jim, huge smirks on their faces. Jim wonders if they know, but he realises it’s probably just from the fading lovebites he’s still sporting on his neck.

They end the week christening every room in the house, every surface even, and against various walls. Jim gets on all fours in front of the window - it leads out onto a patio type area but the street lights offer a faint illumination - and begs for Bones to fuck him. No one could possibly see, but Jim still gets a small thrill from it anyway, and Bones makes full use of the window to tease at Jim’s propensity to show off. One of the most memorable instances, for Jim at least, is the time Bones positions himself in the centre of the lounge area floor; he’s buck naked and hard, waiting while Jim is obliviously puttering around downstairs. He doesn’t call down to Jim, he just waits, his handloosely wrapped around his cock. Jim nearly chokes when he finally does stumble unsuspectingly on the sight. Bones rarely lets Jim just watch; it’s a bit of a power thing, Jim’s starting to think there’s a bit of disguised vulnerability in all that power but he never says as much.

Jim ends up sitting on Bones’ cock, facing the window and hoping they get caught.


Bones gets a comm when they’re eating lunch a few days later. It’s the second week of July and they’ve been seeing each other just over a month, although it seems much longer.

“Ah, Jim,” he says, setting his comm back down and turning his chair to face Jim who’s staring into the cupboards looking for more food, “you mind if I go out tonight?”

“No,” Jim shakes his head; he’s sure Bones will bitch at him for making popcorn at two o’clock in the afternoon but he wants something he can pick at. “Why, where’re you off to?”

“Gonna meet up with some friends,” Bones says vaguely.

“Bones,” Jim prompts, brow raised, turning around to face him, popcorn abandoned.

“It’s at a club… but it’s just drinks, just to catch up,” Bones explains.

“Okay,” Jim nods, “maybe I’ll call Gary, go out with the guys.”

“Great,” Bones smiles.

Jim isn’t worried about what Bones will get up to. He knows Bones has no interest in playing with other people. He is slightly worried about what they might all end up talking about, though. Will he be a topic of conversation? He’s James T. Kirk and these men already know too much about him; he’s a Captain and while sexual practices shouldn’t matter he’s got to uphold some level of discretion – out of respect for his subordinates if nothing else. He doesn’t need his and Bones’ relationship aired out for the Admiralty to critique.


Jim doesn’t end up going out with Gary. He doesn’t feel like it; he feels kind of tense and drinking probably won’t help. He smiles at the sight of Bones in faded black jeans and a dark shirt that he’s pretty much neglected to button properly.

“You look good,” Jim says, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

“I’ll look the exact same when I get home,” Bones murmurs, kissing Jim indolently, taking his time, trying to get Jim’s heart racing.

“Don’t tease,” Jim pouts and Bones pulls back, kissing Jim’s nose.

“I’ll be home late, the place doesn’t close until three,” Bones explains.

“Bones,” Jim reasons, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Bones sighs, and then he smirks; it’s in such a way that Jim can’t help but flush, “don’t touch yourself,” he whispers, “I have plans for tomorrow and I want you desperate.”

“But I-”

“If you come tonight, James, you won’t come for the rest of the week,” Bones grins.

Jim spends the rest of the night alone and frustrated, now that Bones has said it all Jim wants to do is take his cock in his hand, imagining Bones’ mouth around him while he strokes himself to orgasm. But he’s good. He has a cool shower, watches something mindless and heads to bed before midnight. Once tucked under the duvet he reads for a while, something about solar flares around Risa, but he doesn’t take much in. Solar flares make him think about Bones, and that’s how he falls asleep.


“Baby,” the voice that wakes him is rough and Jim can smell Bourbon; it pricks at his flesh, raises goose bumps over his arms and shoulders, down his ribs. There are fingertips pressing into his hips, nails scraping.

“Bones,” Jim murmurs, stretching out and yawing.

“You’re a slut, Jim,” Bones whispers, flicking his tongue over Jim’s bare back. It sounds different than usual, the statement’s contorted somehow. You’re a slut, Jim. Not, my slut, James. Jim turns onto his back, pressing his hand to Bones’ still shirted chest.

“You’re drunk,” Jim states, “go to sleep.”

“I want to fuck you bareback,” Bones growls, “want to watch my come dribblin’ outta your hole.”

“Tomorrow,” Jim says, “but you have to sleep first.”

“Why act like you don’t wan’ it?”

“I don’t,” Jim states, “not now; it’s fucking three AM.”

“You’re mean'a do what I tell you,” Bones huffs.

“Not like this, this isn’t a scene.”

“Of course not,” Bones chuckles, but it sounds filthier, like a sneer: twisted and whiskey rough, “sorry, Captain.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jim hisses, sitting up and frowning at Bones in the darkness.

“Nothin’,” Bones scoffs, turning back to his side of the bed.

Jim lies there for a few moments, panting in the silence of the room. He’s furious and scared and confused and… He drags himself out of bed, expecting to hear an apology from Bones but he doesn’t, the other man having fallen asleep already.

I wanna make you cry, Jim remembers. Frustrated tears burn at his eyes, he entertains going to their guest room, but he’s not going to be able to get back to sleep. He showers instead, pulls on some sweats and a t-shirt and goes for a run.

He runs until it hurts and then he just walks the city, finds a spot by the bay, and sits glumly on the sand. A submissive Captain. He can just hear the ridicule; the Admiralty already thinks he’s too young, and his crew doesn’t need anything else to make them doubt him – his inexperience is enough, and his track record as nothing more than an arrogant brawler from Bumfuck, Iowa doesn’t help.

He goes home around eight and Bones is pacing around the living room, panicked hollering hitting whoever is on the other end of the comm line.

“Oh thank God,” he says, big hazel eyes closing as he exhales in relief. “I’m sorry for shouting, Ny, he’s here… yeah, okay, I’ll tell him.”

Jim just stands in the doorway dumbly. “How long have you been up?”

“Turned over in the bed about half five, you weren’t there; I, I remember being less than pleasant when I got home. I’m so sorry, Jim,” Bones sighs. “I woke up and you weren’t here… I was so damn scared.”

“I went for a run, sat by the bay; I needed to clear my head,” Jim explains.

“I’m sorry,” Bones says again.

“What did you mean, when you called me Captain?” Jim asks, ignoring Bones’ desperate look.   

“I don’t know,” Bones says, “I wanted to upset you, I was scrabbling. I, I know it bothers you-”

“You don’t know,” Jim counters tightly, “and playing on my insecurities when we’re lying in bed? That’s not okay, ever.”

“I know,” Bones says, eyes wide and pained, like a wounded animal, “I am so sorry.”

“Did it come up at the club?” Jim wonders, “is that why it was in your head?”


“You owe me a bit of honesty here, Bones,” Jim says, stepping away when the other man reaches for him.

“Quinn asked after you,” Bones recalls, “Vince made a few comments. I, I disagreed, Jim. I don’t think what you like in the bedroom affects your career. If that were the case then I’d get a hard-on every time a patient winced, but you worry about it, an’, I was being petty. I was turned on and you said no and I was annoyed,” Bones sighs. “I’m an asshole.”

“Last night you were,” Jim agrees. “I like that you go out with your friends, but I, I don’t want to worry what you’re gonna say when you come home.”

Jim doesn’t move away when Bones leans forward to press their foreheads together, “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Jim says, tipping Bones’ chin to kiss him tenderly. “But you can’t talk to me like that. Not outside a scene; keep the lines clear, right?”

“Of course,” Bones nods, kissing Jim again, hesitant to let go.

“I have something else I wanna talk to you about,” Jim starts. Bones isn’t timetabled to be at the hospital until the next evening so they can spends some time going over this. As much time as is necessary.

“That sounds ominous,” Bones says, pulling away to eye Jim carefully.

“It’s not,” Jim smiles, shaking his head. “It’s about a few things I’d like to try.”

“Jim,” Bones starts, “I agree we should talk, an’ I like it when you tell me what you want, but don’t you think you might wanna slow down; you’ve not even been in the scene for two months and you already try an wangle a caning in once a week.”

“Can’t keep up with me, old man?” Jim smirks.

“You’re like an exuberant puppy,” Bones scoffs. “But I mean it, you need to take time out, this is hard on your body. If you weren’t already sleeping with one I’d make you see a doctor.”

“I’m fine; and this isn’t a pain thing, anyway, this is just a sex thing,” Jim assures him, “I’d like to… I want to top, Bones.”

“Not yet,” Bones says, “I’m not ready yet.”

“I just don’t understand…” Jim sighs, “don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Bones says, “but this is a me thing; this is something we work up to, something for the future.”

“If you don’t like it, just say so. Don’t dangle the possibility if it’s never gonna happen,” Jim huffs.

“It will, just not-”

“Did you let Cameron?”

“It was different, I was younger then, thing weren’t as-”

You weren’t,” Jim corrects, “you weren’t as power hungry.”

“Power hungry?”

“That’s what it is… topping is synonymous with being a Dom for you. I just wanna be inside you, I want to feel you; a bit of give and take. You said yourself it didn’t always have to be big things; you could be on top, you could set the pace, you could scratch up my back, you could hold my wrists. I’m not asking to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not ready yet,” is Bones’ only reply.

“Okay,” Jim shrugs, feeling deflated. “I just wanted to put it out there.”

“You look angry,” Bones notes.

“I am,” Jim snaps and then sighs, “I’m not, I’m just- I think you’re right, this is a lot… maybe I am trying too much too soon. I think, I think I need a break.”

“Okay,” Bones says slowly, “we don’t have to-”

“I’m gonna call Gaila. I need to get away for a while,” Jim decides. “Just a night or two.”

“You’re running away,” Bones huffs, turning around. “Typical.”

“I’m not running away, I’m doing this because I need time out,” Jim says, “it’s building to this intense thing.” A fucking catastrophe, Jim thinks angrily; can’t Bones see that Jim is trying to help? “I don’t want this to blow up on us. I want to be with you. I want this to work.”

“So do I,” Bones sighs, “you should stay here, I can book into a hotel.”

“It’s okay,” Jim smiles, “Gaila’s flatmate is away, and it’ll be nice to spend some time with her.”

“Right,” Bones nods, looking worried.

“This isn’t a break, Bones,” Jim assures him, “not like that; this is me having a sleepover where I can get drunk on red wine and spill all my secrets to Gaila and she can paint my nails and stroke my hair and tell me what a ridiculous twink I’m being.” Jim grins for Bones’ benefit, but it’s slightly hollow.

“You’re a beautiful twink,” Bones says, offering him a crooked smile, taking a lock of Jim’s blonde hair in between his finger and thumb, “it’s the blue eyes,” he whispers conspiratorially.


“I don’t understand,” Gaila says, “aren’t you supposed to be copulating like domestic Leporidae?”

“Fucking like rabbits, you mean?” Jim grins. He still isn’t sure when Gaila’s being funny and when she’s just being Orion. “We’re having a break, just a breather,” Jim explains, “we argued this morning, and we did sort it, but… it’s complicated.”

“Leonard hurts you,” Gaila says, “Nyota said I was imagining it but, you have contusions on your wrists, and your hips,” she points to where Jim’s t-shirt has ridden up.

“It’s not like that,” Jim says gently, “it’s a sex thing.”

“Like Hegelian love?” Jim just frowns in confusion until Gaila continues, “like a Master-slave thing?”

“It’s not like on Orion,” Jim says tentatively, “we… I enjoy the pain.”

“I know about sadomasochism, Jim,” Gaila rolls her eyes, “I’m happy for you then,” she says, “as long as it’s consensual.”

“More than,” Jim nods. He wonders what Gaila’s thinking as she looks over him; he knows she’s played around with a variety of things, she’s a try everything once kind of person. He’s not worried that she’d ever judge him for how he gets his kicks, she’d be the last person to do so, but she’s not above opinions and stereotypes, and that makes Jim feel exposed. But Gaila just pours him a glass of Rosé and asks if she can give him a manicure.


Jim meets Bones for coffee at the hospital the next day; it felt weird not to wake up next to Bones and Jim says as much.

“Maybe I’ll come home tonight,” Jim says, “we need fresh groceries and if I leave it to you we’ll be eating leaves all week; and despite what Gaila says we’re not rabbits.”

“Gaila?” Bones questions but shakes his head; he clearly doesn’t think he has the brain power to ask for the whole story. “Well, I already agreed to work a double shift, figured I could stay on call if you weren’t at home. I won’t get in until tomorrow evening now anyway,” Bones nods, “you’d have the place to yourself, an’ at least you’d be sleeping in your own bed.”

So Gaila meets him at the apartment with his overnight bag and they order pizza and have another night in. Gaila sleeps in the spare room, but not before she tells Jim about her new girlfriend.

“Who doesn’t say ‘that’s weird’ when I tell her I love her,” Gaila smirks.

“You caught me off-guard,” Jim counters.

“Have you and Leonard said it yet?” she wonders.

“We’ve not even be dating two months, G,” Jim reasons, “it’s too soon, isn’t it?”

“Does this sort of thing have a set timeframe for Terrans?”

“I guess not,” Jim shrugs.

“You and Leonard have been best friends for three years, you’d do anything for each other,” and Jim nods.

“But saying it, like this, it’s different.”

“Okay,” Gaila relents. “But when he does say it, don’t tell him it’s weird.”


Jim didn’t realise just how much he missed Bones until the man collapses into their bed and clings to him. I don’t like sleeping alone, Bones whispers, God, you smell so damn good. Jim feels himself exhale, pulling Bones to him. They fall asleep together and they stay there for longer than they need to be fully rested.

Jim wakes up to Bones gently kissing up each rib.

“Don’t go easy on me,” Jim teases, rubbing his thumb along Bones’ freckled shoulders.

“You’re beautiful,” Bones murmurs, “thank you.”

“Hey,” Jim admonishes lightly, “Bones, look at me,” and soon enough hazel eyes flicker up at him, more emerald in the early morning light, “I- I adore you, you know that right? It was just a breather; I’m not going anywhere.”

Bones just presses his face into Jim’s stomach, and Jim can feel the slow inhale-exhale of his warm breath.

“I’m just tired I guess,” Bones huffs.

“You’ve been in bed for ten hours,” Jim smirks.

“Let’s try for twelve,” is all Bones says, settling his cheek on Jim’s abdomen.

They make it another hour and a half before Jim can feel Bones kissing his thighs, gently sucking lovebites into the skin. They won’t bruise; they just redden the skin some.

“Bones,” Jim murmurs.


“I want you to fuck my throat.”

Jim hears Bones’ strangled little noise and feels the tremor of Bones’ neck against his leg.

“Please,” Jim adds, but Bones huffs out a trembled breath and shakes his head. Scooting up Jim’s t-shirted body, he slumps back down onto his own pillow. Bones is still wearing his undershirt too and Jim’s hands bunch into it and try to pull him closer.

“No, Jim,” Bones says, “it’s too much, you won’t be able to safeword.”

“This isn’t a scene, Bones!” Jim insists, “I want to blow you but I want to do it while you sit on my face…”

“It’s not funny, Jim, don’t smirk,” Bones huffs.

“I’m not smirking,” Jim counters, smirking.

Jim!” Bones scolds, trying not to smile himself, “deep-throating is dangerous.”

“You sound like my mother,” Jim scoffs.

“Your mother warns you against deep-throating?”

“No,” Jim snorts, “but that’s what moms do, isn’t it? Say everything’s dangerous? I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool.”

“I’m not trying to,” Bones says, turning his head to kiss Jim’s cheek and rub the bridge of his nose along his jaw. “It’s just, it kinda needs practice an’ forethought; it’s not too far off choking you with my bare hands an’ you know I won’t tread those lines.”

“Isn’t the sub meant to have more hard limits than the Dom?” Jim jokes, nudging Bones with his shoulder.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a scene?”

“I don’t know,” Jim shrugs, “I just want things to go back to normal; you’re so, tentative, gentle.”

“I hurt you, the other night, an’ not how either of us are happy with,” Bones says slowly, “I face drops too, Jim, an’ I, I need time to get back in that headspace.”

“Make love to me then,” Jim whispers.

Bones nods slowly, eyes wide and grateful; it’s like he’s being given the key to Atlantis with a complimentary interactive map. He and Jim both pull at the hem of Jim’s t-shirt, trying to get it off as quickly as possible. Bones drags his own undershirt over his head by the scruff of the neck, pressing his lips back to Jim’s mouth the minute he’s free of the material. The kisses are gentle and, if Jim’s honest with himself, this tentativeness is how Jim imagined Bones would treat sex. He misses the bite of pain, but the variation of pace is nice, he supposes; it makes him feel warm and loved.


He pushes that away for the moment, arching to Bones’ tongue as he licks his way down Jim’s torso, stopping to swirl shapes over his ribs and abdominal muscles, dipping into Jim’s navel. Bones presses his forehead over Jim’s treasure-trail and kisses over the flat of his pelvis above Jim’s cock.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Bones murmurs, kissing the mess of blonde hair, licking up the underside of Jim’s hard length. Jim’s stutters out a breath, letting his legs fall open around the breadth of Bones’ shoulders. He spends a long time kissing Jim’s thighs, bending each leg in turn to kiss Jim’s knees and the tops of his calves. Bones’ hand finds one of Jim’s ankles, rubbing circles over the jut of his bone. “Pass me the bottle,” Bones murmurs, flicking his eyes to the lube that’s perched on their bedside table. Jim scrambles for it, and slides it down his torso to where Bones’ other hand is ready to catch it.

Bones takes his time opening Jim up, keeping up the constant littering of kisses across whatever stretch of Jim’s skin his lips can find. He murmurs endearments, and traces the planes of Jim’s body like it’s a whole new world; one fully equipped to provide all the nourishment Bones will ever need. Jim feels like a deity; Bones is an explorer who has found El Dorado, except the gold is Jim’s skin and the pretty jewels are in Jim’s eyes.

When Bones reaches for a condom Jim touches his wrist, telling him ‘no’ with a soft encouraging look, “make love to me,” he repeats.

And Bones does.


By mutual agreement condoms no longer appear in their sexual liaisons. Bones already knows that Jim is clean because he’s his doctor, dammit, and even though Bones is way too careful to pick anything up he hands Jim a PADD showing his last test results, that all club members are required to provide once every six weeks the morning after they first venture into barebacking.  From the way Jim can see Bones looking at him from across their cereal bowls he knows this is a big deal for Bones. Even with STI shots the body isn’t infallible and Jim and Bones have had enough sex to know that being careful is everything. So this, this is big. This means they’re playing for keeps. As if Jim didn’t know that already.

“I love you,” Jim says quietly. He doesn’t know why, but he needed to be the first one to say it. Bones’ eyes snap to his like a startled deer and Jim wonders if he’s gotten everything wrong.

“I wanted to tell you last night. I wanted to tell you the day you went to Gaila’s,” Bones says, slowly smiling, “I’ve wanted to tell you for months.”

“And what about now?” Jim asks, smiling playfully.

“I love you,” Bones promises, “think I have since that damned shuttle.”

“It’s good to say it,” Jim decides, “it’s good that you know for certain now.”

“It is,” Bones agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


“You can have one finger,” Bones says a few weeks later; a month or so actually. Their three month anniversary has just past. Three months: a number Jim can certainly remember.

“What?” Jim says around a mouthful of apple; they’re just lounging around the kitchen, Jim sat on the worktop while Bones cuts red peppers into strips.

“One,” Bones says, “to start with.”

“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

“Are you thinking about sex?”

“Always am,” Jim can’t help but joke. “But I mean, are you serious? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Bones says, sounding decidedly unsure. “I’ll talk you through it.”

Jim opens his mouth to argue but stops himself. Bones isn’t saying it because he doesn’t think Jim’ll know what to do, or because Jim will do it wrong, it’s the condition; it’s how Bones is going to hang on to a bit of control. It’s a compromise.  

It’s a start.


Jim is careful about every breath his body draws in while he’s lying in between Bones’ spread thighs; he spends an inordinate amount of time just smoothing over Bones’ legs with the palm of his hands, letting his thumbs tease along the inseam. Bones watches him with a level of intrigue slightly masking his apprehension; it’s like he doesn’t quite know what Jim’s doing, like he’s trying to figure out Jim’s plan.

The plan is simple: make Bones as relaxed as possible and show him just how awesome it feels to be fingered.

So Jim gently massages the backs of his thighs, trying to loosen the knots of tension that Bones’ trepidation is feeding into the muscle. He blows warm air over Bones’ hips, kissing down over Bones’ treasure trail, cataloguing the ripples of anticipation in his abdomen and the way Bones’ dark hair fans out as it gets closer to his crotch. He wants to give attention to every piece of Bones before he even entertains going any further.

“I want you to be sure,” Jim says, when Bones asks why he’s suddenly become a master of patience.

“I am sure,” Bones promises.

“You’re scared,” Jim counters. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“Just nervous,” is all Bones says, huffing out a self-deprecating sound.

“It’s okay,” Jim murmurs, kissing over Bones’ pelvis. “It’s okay.”

Jim slips his hands under Bones’ thighs and around so he can hold onto Bones’ flank, soothing circles into Bones’ skin with light fingertips. His mouth presses over the crease of each thigh as it meets his crotch, and the arch of each thigh as it curves away from his hips. Bones hardens without any attention to his cock and that settles Jim slightly.

“Is this definitely what you want?” Jim whispers, flicking his eyes up, setting his chin over Bones’ stomach and pulling his hands back to warm the tops of Bones’ thighs.

Bones just nods, offering Jim a small smile; it’s sincere though, the earlier anxiety having melted away.

Jim wets the pads of two fingers with lube, thumbing over Bones’ perineum while the fingers ghost over Bones’ hole, gently circling the sphincter to get it sufficiently slick. Jim can feel the pounding of his own heart beat in his head and he can see the unsure rise and fall of Bones’ chest.

“I love you,” Jim says gravely, “tell me what to do, if that’s what you need,” he whispers, stilling the movement of his fingers.

“No,” Bones breathes, opening his eyes, “I trust you.”

Jim can’t help the smile, it spreads over his face like butter on warmed bread; it’s bright like sunshine, ready to kiss Bones’ skin and make him glow. Jim dips the tip of one finger in, just one, and presses down against the tight ring of muscle. He adds more lubricant before pushing in deeper, to the second joint of his finger. Bones gasps and Jim stills, watching Bones’ for some sign for him to continue. He gets it in the form of a second gasp, one that’s decidedly pleased.

“More,” Bones says, breathy, “more.”

So Jim pushes in to his knuckle, slowly rolling the finger as much as Bones’ tightness will allow. Jim didn’t know what he expected, but the blissed out little ‘o’ of Bones’ plush lips certainly wasn’t it. Jim draws back his finger, wrapping his free hand around Bones’ cock.

“Jim,” Bones breathes.

“I’m here,” Jim returns, rubbing his cheek along the inside of Bones’ thigh. Bones’ skin is always warmer than Jim’s but the contrast is even more evident with the blush that coats Bones’ body.

“More,” Bones demands, pushing his head back into the pillow, Jim watches the arc of Bones’ neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Bones?” Jim questions, pulling his finger out before pushing back in.

“One more,” Bones says, moaning and clenching around Jim’s finger.

“Fuck,” Jim hisses dumbly, drawing his hand away from Bones’ cock to add a touch more lube to a second finger.

When Bones’ hips start rolling back onto Jim’s fingers the younger man is sure he’s going to come just from the sight. The final straw is Jim curling his fist back around Bones’ cock, teasing his thumb over the slit. Bones comes with an almost startled noise that fades into a moan as his body continues to thrust through his aftershocks, back arching wonderfully.

Jim licks Bones’ come from his fingers and from Bones’ own stomach, waiting for Bones’ panting to die down before he curls into Bones’ waiting arms.

“Christ,” Jim whispers, “you’re amazing, you know that right?”

“’re pretty damn fine yourself,” Bones murmurs, “love you, Jim.”

“Mmm,” Jim agrees, “glad to hear it.”

Things seem to shift after that. More confident. Stronger. Their relationship has lost the lingering sting from their night spent apart and Bones is no longer tiptoeing about trying to atone for something Jim’s already forgiven. It’s growth; Jim’s never been in a relationship long enough to witness it before. He didn’t, couldn’t have, anticipated how his and Bones’ friendship would have fitted into the mould of romance, but it seems to have been an easy transition - fluid – not without its bumps, admittedly. It’s growth.

Lots of old things turned inside out, reconfigured, and made new. Something shining. Something they can both be proud of.

Bruises, though, are something Jim isn’t allowed to be proud of, and no matter how much he and Bones enjoy them, they’re a pain in the ass when it comes to hiding them. But it’s either hide them or let people suspect that Bones is capable of domestic violence - a conversation he eventually had to have with Nyota, because what Gaila had said had played on his mind. Nyota said she had already worked it out. They were far too happy around each other for Nyota to ever believe that Leonard would hit him. She explained as much to Spock too, actually, who agreed it was illogical for Doctor McCoy to revoke his oath for the man he loved but for similar reasons didn’t understand the BDSM practices Nyota was trying to explain to him.

So for everyone’s benefit Jim wears long-sleeved t-shirts most of the time, and wears a white Henley on this slightly warm evening; a date night, actually. Jim and Bones are coming out of the cinema, shoulders brushing, gently arguing about the protagonist of the feature they’ve just seen.

“Leo?” And Jim is really starting to hate that distortion of Bones’ name.

Bones turns around to the caller, already looking worried which spikes something in Jim too; he puts his hand on Bones forearm to steady him as the shock spreads across his features.

“El?” Bones frowns, “Jesus, what happened to you?”

Jim recognises the man, Ellis. Bones ex-playmate. He’s got blonde hair, slightly shaggier than Jim’s and darker, more mousey; he looks like he spends a lot of time at the beach, golden skin evident despite the darkness of the street.

“I’m fine,” Ellis frowns, pulling the neck of his hoodie up.

“You look like shit,” Bones says bluntly, stepping forward, “what happened?”

“I had a, a bad scene,” Ellis says, looking down, avoiding Bones’ intense gaze, “a new dude at the club, I don’t think he knew what the hell he was doing but you know what I’m like, Leo. I thought I could take it, thought it’d work out… but I had to stop, I couldn’t… he asked me to leave after that, I’m kinda-”

“Shook up?” Bones supplies, “don’t blame ya, what was the scene?”

“A mess,” Ellis laughs bitterly, “literally too, though… it was a bit of everything.”

“You ask that asshole t’ strangle you?”

“Don’t ride my ass for it,” Ellis complains, “you’ve got your new play toy for that,” he huffs out a laugh, trying, and failing, to smile at Jim.

“I’m sorry,” Bones says gently, holding out his hands. The three of them stand there awkwardly; Bones throws a strange look at Jim as Ellis turns to start walking. “Wait a minute,” Bones says gently, still looking at Jim.

“It’s okay, Leo,” Ellis says gently, looking pale and frightened, “I’ll ride it out.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this on your own,” Bones says gently, “aftercare’s real important; you know that, dammit.”

“I’m scared,” Ellis whispers almost too quiet for Jim to hear.

“Our apartment is just-”

“Our?” Ellis purses his lips, “you guys are serious, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bones says, nodding, looking back a Jim with a smile.

“I couldn’t-”

“You could,” Jim says, sighing, “you do look pretty shitty.”

Ellis chuckles lightly, “you’re boyfriend’s aftercare approach is subpar.”

“He’s better post coitus,” Bones jokes, touching his fingers to Jim’s wrist reassuringly. Ellis nods then and Bones takes another step closer, placing his hand on Ellis’ waist. Jealousy spikes inside Jim but he quashes it when he sees the tension ease off the man’s shoulders; nobody deserves to feel how this guy is clearly feeling and Bones is a doctor, he’s trained to help.

“You look familiar,” Ellis says, studying Jim, “would I have seen you around the clubs?”

“No,” Jim says, before Bones gets the chance. “I’m Jim Kirk. Starfleet’s been doing a bit of press.”

“Must have seen you on newsfeed then.” Ellis nods, wincing at something.

“Y’alright?” Bones questions.

“He was a bit heavy handed,” Ellis says, “I think my ass is broken.”

Soon enough they get Ellis into the apartment and get him set up in the guest room; it’s convenient because it’s closest to the bathroom. Bones makes Ellis drink sugary things and eat crackers at a snail’s pace while Jim runs the man a bath.

“Do you mind this?” Bones asks, catching Jim in the bathroom doorway, “I could take him to a hospital instead. He’d get his wounds treated just the same.”

“But not the mental stuff, right?” Jim smiles understandingly, “just, I don’t know, don’t fall in love with him or anything,” Jim tries to joke but it falls flat.

“I never did,” Bones says firmly, rubbing his thumb along Jim’s jaw.

It settles Jim some, but he doesn’t like the sight of Bones wiping a cloth over Ellis’ shoulders, or rubbing arnica into the backs of his thighs; he doesn’t like hearing Bones reading one of Jim’s old paperbacks aloud to try and coax Ellis into sleeping and he doesn’t like the fact that Bones stays in the guest room all right. He’ll get a crick in his neck from sleeping on that chair, goddammit.

Jim sits in the hallway for a while, listening to Bones murmuring things intermittently as Ellis stirs from sleep.

“You guys are pretty solid,” Ellis murmurs, “he’s a good guy.”

“The best,” Bones agrees, “I love him.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Leo.”

“Promise me you won’t seek out a scene like that again.”

“I didn’t seek it out,” Ellis mutters, “it went wrong.”

“You’re meant to be careful with yourself,” Bones huffs, “how am I gonna be able to get on with things thinkin’ you’re goin’ out an’ gettin’ yourself into this sorta stuff?”

“I’m an adult, Leo,” Ellis scoffs, “I’m not your kid, or your sub, or your responsibility.”

“We’ve been friends for two years El,” Bones counters, “just because we’re not sleeping together anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Thanks,” Ellis says, “for doing this, I hardly knew where I was when you guys found me; my heart was still pounding.”

“I’m so angry that that asshole kicked you out,” Bones grits out, and Jim can feel the fire in his words; Jim feels bad that he’s listening in now, he doesn’t have this right. “You can’t treat people like that; an’ chokin’ you? Jesus, El, he could’a killed you.”

“Please, don’t,” Ellis whispers, “I can’t think about that.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” Bones murmurs, and Jim hears the body shift in the bed. “I gotcha,” is the last thing Jim hears.

If he’s honest with himself, Jim expects to see Bones lying on top of the covers with Ellis curled into him. But when he tips his head around the door frame he’s greeted with a much more innocent scene: Bones has pulled the chair closer so he can rest his hand on Ellis’ triceps. Bones looks up at Jim and smiles, doesn’t look annoyed that Jim’s potentially disturbing them, or that Jim still hasn’t gone to bed. You okay? He mouths and Jim nods. Jim feels so selfish to want Bones’ attention when there’s a guy who’s practically been assaulted lying in their spare room, but he feels needy.

“Night,” Jim whispers, trying to do the right thing.

He still ends up sleeping on the couch so he can be closer to Bones.


The breakfast portion of the Aftercare routine is a lot different to the breakfast in bed with copious snuggling that Jim’s used to. Bones wakes Jim with a kiss on the forehead and a murmured, “darlin’, what’re you doing on the sofa?”

Jim opens his eyes and frowns at the unfamiliarity of the scene before him but his brain catches up quick enough.

“I couldn’t sleep up there on my own,” Jim admits, and Bones looks more guilty than Jim would ever intend to see him.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Bones sighs.

“No,” Jim says, quickly sitting up. “Let me, you stay with him,” Jim encourages, smiling at Ellis who’s standing awkwardly off to the side.

“Don’t burn my toast,” Ellis jokes.

“Fruit, Jim,” Bones huffs.

Jim shares a look with Ellis and smirks, “does jam count?”

Jim,” Bones chides.

Ellis is gone before noon, and Jim feels a strange absence in the house. He and Bones curl up on the couch together but remain silent for the most part. Jim can feel Bones repeatedly tense as if he’s going to say something, though, and Jim’s not sure he’s going to want to hear it.

“You see why you have to use your safeword?”

“You’d never hurt me like that,” Jim frowns.

“Not knowingly, sure, but sometimes the sort of play we indulge in can get outta hand pretty quickly. Ellis should never have had a heavy scene like that with someone he barely knew, an’ I know it’s real different to what we have but I just, I need to know you’d safeword if you needed to,” Bones says, “an’ I guarantee you’ve wan’ed to before.”

“Maybe, the first time with the cane,” Jim says, “I considered it, but I’m glad I didn’t in the end. It was just a moment.”

“You have to listen to your body, Jim. I can only hear and see so much, you know?” Bones whispers, carding his fingers through Jim’s hair.

“I know.”

“Maybe we should talk about things… where we wanna go, maybe check off more of your list,” Bones suggests slowly.

“Because the caning is getting so monotonous,” Jim jibes, “and don’t even get me started on the crop.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Bones scoffs.

“I was thinking about something,” Jim admits, lips pursing as he considers how to phrase it, “paddling, maybe? I really like the spanking, Bones, but I think I wanna try a different sort of sensation, something with more thud.”

 “My schedule’s pretty shitty at the hospital this week, we’ll have to wait until Monday,” Bones explains, “but if you wanna do it we can do it. Do you maybe wanna go shopping for it, together?”

“You already have a paddle,” Jim saw it when they were packing boxes before they moved here.

“I know,” Bones says, “but sometimes it’s nice to have something that’s ours.”


Jim has absolutely no idea what he wants from a paddle. He knows he doesn’t want a cushioned one, nor does he want one with cutesie little frills around the handle. He wants something hard; something that will hurt. He holds up one that has a ‘slut’ shaped cut out and smirks, pointedly showing it to Bones who rolls his eyes.

“You are a slut,” he agrees, tone dry but not without amusement, “but do you want it printed on your ass?”

Jim looks at him, looks down at the paddle, and then looks around at his ass.

“I like that one,” Jim decides, setting down the ‘slut’ paddle in favour of a more tasteful black suede one, running his fingers over the slightly rough material.

“It’s pretty firm; it’ll hurt - there ain’t much give,” Bones explains, tapping it against the back of his hand twice before handing it to Jim, who turns it over in his hand and nods.

“I like it,” Jim says, “what d’you say, Bonesy?”

“Don’t call me that, ever,” Bones replies, “but sure, I ah,” he blushes, “I like it too.”


“You remember your safeword?” Bones asks; Jim is on all fours on a mat on the floor of their open-plan ground floor. He’s facing away from the window today. Bones says that if anyone does catch them the least they’ll want to see by way of compensation is the sight of Jim’s rosy ass.

“Yes,” Jim nods.

“And if it’s too much but you don’t wanna stop?”

“I’ll tell you it’s a bit extreme,” Jim promises.

“Okay,” Bones breathes, “don’t come until I tell you, James.”

“I won’t.”

Bones smiles and leans over to kiss the centre of Jim’s back. He’s still fully dressed and his t-shirt tickles over Jim’s skin, raising gooseflesh over Jim’s ribs. Bones warms Jim’s ass with his hands, rubbing wide circles over each cheek, trying to stimulate the blood flow and, no doubt, sooth Jim’s nerves. He’s not become bored with the cane, but he knows what to expect now; and the crop, even when they do twenty or thirty whacks, has never been that unbearable. Certainly not too extreme, anyway. Variation, Jim thinks, really is the spice of life. He hasn’t felt this sort of anticipation in a while. Excitement and fear mixed with a few expectations: he expects to enjoy this, he enjoys everything he does with Bones; he expects this to hurt, in the best possible way; he expects to be able to last.

But by the twelfth smack - hitting deep, like it’s reverberated through him, smacking right against the bone; too deep - he loses that last expectation. It tears away from him like a loose thread, unravelling until the entire sleeve of a favoured knit cardigan is gone. He screams. It’s a moan and a groan, a whimper and a wail too, but it’s a scream, ragged and it leaves him breathless.

“A b-bit, a bit extreme,” Jim whispers, and he feels the press of Bones’ lips to the small of his back, hands smoothing over his thighs, whispering words that Jim can’t decipher over the pounding of his heart and the throbbing of his ass.

“You just tell me when you’re ready, darlin’,” Bones murmurs, “you ask for it whenever you wan’ it.”

“I ca-a-” Jim breaks off, panting, “I can handle it,” he hisses, tears burning at his eyes, shame and disappointment in himself burning through him just as much as the pain.

“You can tap out, Jim,” Bones whispers, “you know you can.”

“Stop,” Jim huffs, “don’t,” he whimpers, “I want it, please, I do.”

“No, Jim,” Bones says gently, “I, I can’t, this isn’t right.”

“Please,” Jim begs, “one more, please. I want it, spank me, just one more.”

Bones sits back on his knees, running the paddle over his thighs, Jim can hear the shift of material, and he’d give anything to see Bones’ face. Just to know what’s going on in those hazel eyes. Bones is right; Jim wants another just to prove he can do it, not because it’s making him feel good anymore.

“Enterprise,” they both say, and Jim snaps his head around to stare accusatorily at Bones. But Bones, for his part, looks relieved and holds out his hand for Jim to take. Jim finds trouble refusing Bones at the best of times, this scene notwithstanding, and so rises on his knees to take the proffered hand, letting Bones gently tug him closer and wrap his arms around Jim’s waist.

“I love you,” Bones murmurs into the crook of Jim’s neck, “God, I love you.”

Jim is always struck by the subtle differences between his Dom and his boyfriend. Usually Bones comes back to himself in steps: dropping James in favour of Jim; the exchange of a confident touch, the touch that says he owns Jim, for a tentative touch, like a man worshipping a piece of art; and then the additions of love and adoration that make it clear for Jim he’s always safe and loved with Bones around. Bones seems to do this journey into tenderness much quicker than usual, and it must leave him reeling just as much as Jim is. So Jim lets Bones cling to him, sliding his hands over Bones’ arms and shoulders until one wrist overlaps the other at the nape of his neck. This helps though; the confusion and frustration, the disappointment and fear, begin to ebb away. Jim can breathe easy.

There’s a discussion to be had, he knows that, but Bones won’t have it now. Not until his superlative aftercare regime has been adhered to.

“Lie on your stomach,” Bones encourages, “I’ll get some arnica.”

Soon enough, though, Bones is back, spreading Jim’s thighs slightly so he can lie in between them and massage the clear gel into Jim’s swollen ass cheeks. Jim aches. It’s not just physical though: there’s a deflated balloon where his heart used to be which aches in a different way; it’s uncomfortable.

But Bones doesn’t give him too long to dwell on it; he kisses Jim’s thighs, the side of his ass cheeks and his lower back, careful to avoid the smudge of sticky, wetness that coats the paddle marks. The kisses soon make their way in between his cheeks and the fire in Jim’s belly is rekindled to the feeling of Bones’ tongue inside him, conquering his defences by each deft flick of his tongue. It’s more visceral then Jim can remember anything else in his life being. If rimming is usually a precise, careful, art for Bones, now he’s acting like a starved man at a banquet: a ruffian that can’t, and refuses to, control his primal urges. Raging on instinct.

This is make-up sex; and it’s delightful. Jim arches his back deep, holding himself open for Bones, fingers skidding because of the gel.

He comes. Hard. And it leaves him reeling again. Different this time. He scrabbles to catch up. Can’t seem to quiet his panting. He slumps forward, chest pressed into his come on the mat.

“Fuck,” Jim sighs, clearly appreciative. Bones never ceases to amaze him, nor fail to satisfy him.

“’ve got that damn gel all over my cheeks,” Bones says, wiping his sleeve over his face.

“What a coincidence,” Jim jibes, smirking into the mat, “me too.”

“You damn infant,” Bones mutters, and when Jim looks over his shoulders Bones is scowling; it’s good-natured enough, though, because after a few moments of Jim’s playful gaze Bones’ scowl is crumbling into a begrudging smile.

“Did you safeword because you thought that was what I wanted you to do?” Bones asks; it’s a clunky question and Jim doesn’t like it one bit. He frowns.

“I could ask you the same question,” Jim counters, “or better yet, did you safeword because you thought I wouldn’t?”

“I safeworded because you were hurting,” Bones returns, huffing.

“Doesn’t bother you most days,” Jim sneers.

“It was different. You wanted to stop, but you wouldn’t; it didn’t feel right-”

“So you did do it because you thought I wouldn’t. You’re meant to trust me,” Jim urges.

“No,” Bones says slowly. “I did it because I was uncomfortable with the scene.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Jim snaps. “What happened to ‘wanna see you cry, James’.”

“Don’t push this all on me. You only used your safeword today because you know it’s what I wanted to hear,” Bones huffs.

“No, I used it because my ass was on fucking fire,” Jim states.

“You’d have carried on though, if I hadn’t a’ wavered,” Bones says, heat giving way to resignation in your voice.

“I don’t know,” Jim says with a shake of his head and a sulky pout. He's been caught out. “Maybe.”

“Yes, you would have,” Bones counters.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters a hell of a lot, Jim.” Bones sighs. “It damn well matters to me. You saw what happened with El.”

“Are you saying I look to get hurt?”

“You think that’s what he did?” Bones scoffs. “Went out looking to have a shitty scene? Nearly get himself strangled?”

“He was reckless.” Jim shrugs. “I’m not, I’m with you. It’s the safest place to test my limits.”

“I’m not infallible,” Bones whispers, and something changes in Bones’ expression. It’s his I-killed-my-Daddy look and Jim won’t have that kind of shit from Bones, not when Bones is one of the kindest, bravest men Jim knows. “Please don’t put that kinda pressure on me. I’ll fuck up, Jim,” Bones’ voice is strained, “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jim counters, voice still low, trying to sound affectionate, “you’ve made mistakes, sure, we’ve made mistakes and we’ll probably make more, but it’s okay, Bones, we’ve only been dating four months, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, it’s not gonna be perfect. I know you’re not infallible because no one is, but you’re a close thing, Bones, and I trust you with me. Heart and mind and body and soul,” Jim puffs out a shaky laugh.

“An’ you’ll probably get your fool head wrecked because of it,” Bones sighs, leaning forward to kiss the side of Jim’s mouth.

“I’ll take the risk, but thanks for the warning,” Jim smirks.


They honestly get better at the paddling, and it becomes one of Jim’s favourite things; granted, he can’t sit down properly for a few days after and a few people here and there have commented on a mal-concealed wince here and there but for the most part it’s a real treat. They travel a bit during the summer. Some of August is spent in San Diego, a weekend in Las Vegas; Jim suggested travelling off-world but Bones is still slightly nervous at the prospect and Jim understands. They’ll soon have time off-world; they should treasure their planet while they still have it. They almost lost it, after all.

That, and thinking back on the destruction of Vulcan… watching a planet fall to nothingness, brings the suggestion of a week in Georgia onto the table.

“I see my mother regularly enough now that I’m in the ‘Fleet,” Jim says, “but we could be gone for two years before you’ll get to see yours again,” he continues, “and besides, you haven’t been home in a while; she’ll wanna see you.”

“You want me to take you home to meet my mother?” Bones smiles coquettishly.

“No,” Jim says quickly, blushing, “you don’t have to… I mean-”

“It’s okay,” Bones grins, “I think it’s a good idea.”


Eleanora McCoy keeps a welcoming home; it’s sweet and homely scents and comfort in an elegant, genteel, way. Bones seems to bloom in the environment; Jim thinks about plants and sunlight and photosynthesis and decides it must be something about Georgia. He becomes the almost-clichéd Southern gentleman: he makes sure to be walking on the outside of Jim whenever they go out; he holds Jim’s waist like he’s a dainty, precious thing; he steps forward to open doors and pull out Jim’s chair; he opens jars; he chooses the wine; he hasn’t cursed since the shuttle landed… Jim feels like some sort of belle. Bones has taken chivalry to another level. It’s nice, in theory, but Jim’s used to doing his fair share of door opening and food ordering, and, if he’s honest, it’s a little overbearing.

Jim realises it’s just a force of habit, Bones’ mother is around and he’s back in his childhood home and obviously he’s starting to feel a little like a teenager getting ready to take his date to prom, or to the debutante ball or whatever strange coming of age ceremony these Georgians indulge in. But it makes Jim think. About twenty-four-seven sort of relationships… and about whether or not Bones has ever considered it.

Because more than anything this week, even when he’s fingering Bones in the loft conversion of the old barn, he feels like the sub. It’s a strange statement to make, Jim realises, because he is the sub, or a sub at least, but he’s more aware of it now, and he wonders how he would cope if this were his life every waking moment.

He puts that thought away for safe keeping though; for the most part he’s having a ball. Bones takes him fishing and they swim in the creek and make love on a small island of grass in the centre of the lake, sheltered under a willow tree. They go out to dinner and catch up with Bones’ old friends in little bars on the main street. Jim tries and fails to help Bones and Eleanor make biscuits but the conversation is easy and free and Jim understands why people get attached to one place.

He understands what it means to be home.

He never really had that in Iowa. When Winona was around they spent a lot of time doing things to make up for all the time she wasn’t there. They went to museums in Des Moines, and the botanical gardens in Cincinnati. Winona wanted to make big memories that Jim wouldn’t be able to forget; she wanted him and Sam to be able to say ‘oh yeah, our mom took us there’ but it meant that the house they lived in remained hollow. It was a shell not a home.

He got closer to understanding home in the Academy, and even closer in the apartment he shares with Bones, but he still wonders at it. Looking around the kitchen, feeling the flour coating his cheek, he thinks he might finally be able to recognise it.

Maybe he’ll find it on the Enterprise.

He tucks that away too, holds it safe somewhere behind his ribcage and lets the rest of their week past in the glorious sunshine, watching with a mix of lust and affection as Bones’ skin begins to bronze.


“You were strange this week,” Jim says when they begin to unpack their clothes, throwing some things in the direction of the laundry hamper and some things back in appropriate drawers or on appropriate shelves.

“How d’ya mean?” Bones asks, looking up from their toiletry bag. 

“You went all uber-gent, I was a bit blown away,” Jim smirks, “I felt… mollycoddled though, sometimes,” he adds tentatively.

“Should of said,” Bones counters, just as gentle, “I didn’t even realise; sometimes I just...” He shrugs. “Mama’s boy, I guess.”

“Trying to impress her?” Jim frowns, confused.

“I dunno,” Bones shrugs honestly. “Sometimes it’s just—I think she likes to know I’m proud of where I come from… they brought me up real particular, Jim. Folk have expectations an’ I-”

“Are you overcompensating?” Jim wonders, trying to catch up. “For being with a man or for being a sadist?”

“I just figure, if she sees me being all… gentle an’ ah, courteous she might not suspect—”

“She caught you, didn’t she?” Jim guesses. “And she didn’t get it?”

“With Cam. And uh... my ridin’ crop. In the stables,” Bones blushes. “And Joce kinda, well, she said some implying things after the divorce. She’s my mama, Jim, I—”

“No,” Jim says. “I get it. I mean, I don't like it. That it makes you feel like you have to hide it. But I get it. I uh, I thought maybe it was… I don’t know, some way to try out a sort of lifestyle thing. I just, I don’t know, it was stupid but I guess—”

“Oh,” Bones says frowning. “No, I… I’d never just assume. God, Jim.” He huffs out a terse laugh. “No, I—I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“I just, I didn’t know if I was meant to be taking a hint,” Jim admits with a wonky smile, “I’ll just say something in future.”

“It won’t- I won’t put you in that situation again. Twenty-four-seven’s never been something I’ve wan’ed Jim, it’s not… I mean, you don’t…?” Bones motions vaguely and Jim’s eyes go wide.

“No, Jesus no,” Jim shakes his head, “I think we can both appreciate my autonomy.”

“We definitely can,” Bones smiles, letting out a relieved sigh, “good,” he murmurs, the final word to conciliate and round off the discussion. Jim leans forward to kiss his cheek, lets his lips trail down to Bones’ mouth.

“Good,” he agrees.


Jim’s always been keen to see more of Bones’ rope work; it’s nearly the end of September now and Jim hasn’t let Bones tie him up since that first night Jim asked Bones if he could watch. Bones hasn’t brought it up either. But it is something between them, a whisper at the back of Jim’s mind: tying you to the bed and watchin’ you squirm with a vibrator shoved inside you sounds like a real pretty picture. It really, really does.

Jim knows what he has to do. He’s damn well attuned to it by now; ask for it, he thinks.

So he does.


“Let’s do an exchange,” Jim says, one night when they’re snuggled close after Jim’s just ridden Bones to heaven and back. He’s got a grin on his face; it’s like a diplomatic treaty, but just ten times the fun with a more personally satisfying end goal.

“An exchange of what?”

“Fantasies,” Jim smirks, flicking his tongue back and forth over Bones’ nipple until it hardens.

“Infant,” Bones mutters, tummy flexing.

“I want you to tie my hands to the bed again,” Jim whispers, blowing air over Bones’ wet, oversensitive skin, “and then I want you to, what was it you said… shove a vibrator inside me?”

Christ,” Bones moans as Jim’s mouth moves to his other nipple.

“Is that a yes?” Jim murmurs, lips still pressed to Bones’ skin.

“Roll onto your back,” Bones instructs, “I’ll get the rope.”

“What about your exchange,” Jim purrs, shifting up so his back is against the headboard, seductively raising his hands above his head, holding his wrists together, keeping his legs spread wide, “what do you want from me, Bones?”

“I,” Bones thinks about it, breathing heavy, “I wanna come on your face.”

“Oh God, yes,” Jim hisses, sounding excited, but more than that too: triumphant. It’s win-win for both of them, it seems, so Bones wastes no time going to their trunk for his rope and a vibrator.

Bones sets down the vibrator on the bed as he carefully ties Jim’s wrists; it’s a small chrome bullet, about three inches in length and just over an inch thick. Jim doesn’t think it looks all that intimidating but no doubt Bones will show him otherwise. Once Jim’s hands are fixed to the dark, nickel-plated headboard, Bones spends some time covering Jim’s thighs in kisses, slicking Jim’s hole and crooking a finger inside before he slides in the smooth, currently inactive, vibrator.

“It has seven settings,” Bones explains, clicking the base of the bullet, filling Jim with a faint buzz that makes Jim want to buck for more. “Let’s see how quickly we can have you begging, huh?” he murmurs, smirking.

“Me?” Jim chuckles, hips squirming, “no, Bones, I don’t beg.”

“You don’t?” Bones questions, surprised, “that’s not how I’ve heard it.”

“Well you must have got your sources mixed,” Jim gasps as Bones double clicks the setting button of the vibrator.

“Hmm,” Bones agrees, “or maybe I’ll just have to collect my own evidence,” he murmurs, licking the head of Jim’s hardening cock. “Don’t come until I say so,” Bones states, voice growing slightly more serious as he pulls the vibrator out halfway, quickly shoving it back in; the tremors quicker and more intense than before. It feels so good against his prostate, but it pushes him too close too soon.

“Bones,” he gasps, thrusting his hips up, clenching down to try and dull the vibrations, but it only works to push him closer.

“Two more settings to go, James,” Bones says, “I want you to beg for them.”

“I can’t,” Jim gasps, “can’t deal with more.”

“So sensitive,” Bones grins. “You lost your cool pretty quick, huh, darlin’?”

Jim frowns. Bones is baiting him again but Jim can’t help but bite. “More,” he pouts, “please, I want it.”

“Do you now?” Bones smirks, sitting back on his knees. “I dunno, James, you look pretty wrecked to me. Can you handle it?”

“I can, I will, please,” Jim gasps, rolling his hips in such a way that the tip of the vibrator grazes directly over his prostate.

“You know…” Bones says slowly, intoning his speech with a sigh, “’m not convinced.”

Please,” Jim whines.

“Why don’t you ask a little louder?” Bones suggests, settling back to get more comfortable, like curling into an armchair to watch a highly anticipated new movie.

“Please,” Jim begs, trying to sound confident and strong but his voice is so ragged, breathing rough and stuttering.

“You’re still not allowed to come, James,” Bones reminds, upping the vibrator to the strongest setting; and, even though it’s amazing, Jim regrets it immediately.

“It’s too much,” Jim moans, writhing into the duvet, “I’m close, so close, please, please, let me come please,” he babbles, “Bo-bones, I, I, oh,” Jim bites down on his lip to distract him, frowning hard to try and clear his head.

“You don’t want to disappoint me, James,” Bones whispers, shifting back closer to Jim, “do you?”

“No,” Jim whimpers.

“There’s still the matter of this exchange to work through,” Bones whispers and Jim feels his skin tingle where Bones’ fingers walk across his chest and shoulders, “beg me to come on your face,” Bones instructs, guiding his hands up Jim’s arms, pressing the rope into his skin. Jim hisses; he’s aching; painfully close. He can’t think, doesn’t know if he can beg. He can just feel the vibrator inside him, buzzing away, teasing him, trying to make him disobey Bones. He tries to think about the grip around his wrists instead, but it just deepens his arousal. It turns it from a playful pink to a deep, lush crimson.

“Come on my face,” Jim gasps, “please, I w-want you to.”

“Are you sure?” Bones jibes.

Yes,” Jim squeals, trying to keep his hips on the mattress.

Bones straddles Jim’s chest, knees pressed into the crook of Jim’s arms, pulled open now that his hands are tied above him. Jim’s keeps his eyes on the slow tug of Bones’ hand over his cock, torn between the simultaneous want for Bones to come immediately and for this to never end, for Jim to be able to watch Bones like this forever.

“Please let me have your come,” Jim says without having to be prompted. Bones smiles, delighted and pleasantly surprised.

“You’re so good at this,” Bones moans, voice rough, “so good for me.”

“All over my face,” Jim encourages, “please.”

“Close your eyes,” Bones whispers, and Jim complies, waiting for the sound of Bones’ choked off groan and the feel of warm come hitting his cheek and lips.

“I’m gonna leave you like this,” Bones whispers after a few moments, sliding away from Jim, “you can come, but I’m gonna sit in that chair,” he motions to the one in the opposite corner, where his PADDs are ready and waiting to be read, “an’ I’m gonna watch you struggle, watching you come an’ come again an’ again.”

“Bones,” Jim whimpers, pleading.

“So proud of you, darlin’,” Bones murmurs, kissing Jim’s come-free cheek, pressing the vibrator more firmly down onto Jim’s prostate, chuckling as Jim comes all over his stomach. “You’re a beautiful sight, James; maybe I’ll come on you some more before the night’s out, if you ask real nicely.”

Jim watches Bones slide off the bed and sit, naked, in the aforementioned chair. For the most part he just watches Jim, as the vibrator brings him back to hardness and he has to scream his lungs out, begging to come again before Bones nods with a smirk. Although sometimes he picks up his PADD and looks like he’s reading and Jim has to almost cry before Bones relents, sets the PADD down and lets Jim come with a gentle hey now, baby, you can come; and it happens again and again until Jim begins to question his own body. The clock says they’ve been at this for two hours and Jim is on edge and wired and he wonders if he’ll have to safeword just to remind Bones that he can’t keep this up all day.

But Bones has seen something, it seems, and is making his way back over to the bed, cock in hand, hard and resolute. He comes over Jim’s thighs, and some on his groin, his own cock hard for the sixth or seventh time. Jim can’t remember his numbers right now.

“Come for me, Jim,” Bones says with an easy, charming, smile and Jim is unable to do anything but obey.


They have ten days before deployment and, if Jim’s honest, he’d like to spend them entirely in bed. That’s not gonna happen, though. Jim has meeting after meeting: Pike; Archer; Barnett; the board of Admirals; the ‘Fleet commission… Everyone wants a piece of him, which leaves little time for him and Bones, apart from when they’re in meetings together. But that isn’t ideal, because they desperately need to talk about how their relationship, emotional as well as sexual, is going to work on the Enterprise. 

They go out for breakfast together on one of their less busy days.

“I’m going to declare our relationship to the ‘Fleet, sign all the forms and ask for joint quarters,” Jim says, cutting his pancakes, “you down with that?”

“Oh, so I have a choice?” Bones jibes, grinning, and then it softens, “of course I’m okay with that, more than. Couldn’t imagine not waking up to your bird’s nest.”

“Asshole,” Jim mutters, shaking his head.

“Will you go easy on the syrup?” Bones complains, pulling the bottle out of Jim’s reach, “you’re gonna have a heart attack.”

“I’m not gonna get another chance to eat unreplicated food for forever,” Jim states, “you leave me with my syrup.”


Everything in administrative terms in sorted now. Their bags are already shipped onto the Enterprise and Jim’s had his last intimate meal with Pike, where he tells Jim he’s proud of him and that he’ll always be at the other end of the comm line if Jim should ever need him. With all that finished, though, it means he and Bones have their final weekend to themselves. They’ve got a few loose plans, and Jim can sense Bones is planning something, probably for their last night, but Jim’s also got something he’s been thinking about. Something he should discuss with Bones first.

“I want to get a tattoo,” Jim says, “before we go... something for us.”

“A tattoo?” Bones frowns, sceptical, but Jim sees something else in his eyes, at the mention of them, of us, “not a branding sorta thing?” he asks.

“No,” Jim says, “it’s just, I’ve always kinda wanted a tattoo but never really… never really had anything stick, but I know what I want now.”

“An’ what’s that?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Jim says, “but I just, I wanted to ask you first.”

“Jim, you don’t have to ask my permission,” Bones says firmly, “it’s your body.”

“I know but, this is, the tattoo… it’s, it’s permanent. You don’t think it’s too much?”

“As long as you don’t get Leo written into your skin,” Bones smirks.

“What about drawn?” Jim mutters, but Bones doesn’t hear him.


Tattoo pain is different to spanking pain and, thankfully, he doesn’t get hard. Bones insists on watching and gives Jim an amused look when the transfer of the Leo constellation is printed into his ribs. It only takes twenty minutes; it’s only line work, after all, and a few Greek symbols. But Jim feels high once it’s finished. He tells Bones that he loves him and that he wants to blow him and that they’ll be together for as long as Leo reigns over the night sky. It’s his lion, he rambles, his courage.

It’s pretty much perfect all round – Jim takes pleasure in having the constant reminder of Bones, and the lingering memory of the burning discomfort, and Bones takes pleasure in tracing the lines with antibacterial tattoo cream morning and night. It’s the aftercare; like Bones realises this is something deeper between them, for them.  

Jim wants more, he always does, but at least the urge is sated – for now.

Bones fucks a very different urge into him that night, but that is quickly sated too.


They’re making out in bed the next night, the night before they leave, when Bones mumbles something Jim doesn’t quite catch.

“What?” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to Bones’ lips before pulling away again and looking into Bones’ eyes.

“Tonight,” Bones starts, “you should… you should top.”

“Bones?” Jim frowns, bewildered.

“Come on, Jim,” Bones ducks his head, “you know I don’t beg as pretty as you.”

“No,” Jim’s smile is soft and encouraging, “too gruff,” he agrees. “Do you mean it?” he asks, “I mean, you really want me to?”

“I do,” Bones nods, “just, can I-”

“Lead?” Jim interrupts. “Do you really have to ask?”

Bones rolls his eyes at Jim and sighs, looking relieved.

“Lie on your back,” he directs. “I’ll straddle you.”

“Is this because we’re leaving? Is this like an occasion thing?” Jim wonders, settling his hands on Bones’ hips to help him settle on top of Jim. Bones bats his hands away and glares—it’s not heated though, it’s hard; like Bones is trying to think this through: psych himself up.

“I guess,” Bones shrugs, holding Jim’s wrist to his own chest. Jim can faintly feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. “You’re gonna be Captain of a constitution class vessel in the morning,” Bones says, he blushes too; he’s hesitant and, Jim realises with a start, shy. “Tonight,” he breathes, “tonight I just want you to be my Captain.”

Jim’s sure his heart skips a beat; actually, his heart goes skipping off into the sunset with no care for Jim’s vitals whatsoever. Jim thinks about that word: Captain; it used to be a loaded term between them but Bones has reclaimed it for them, made it safe and loving. Jim looks at Bones’ sun-kissed chest above him, the littering of freckles across the bridge of his shoulders. He thinks about Georgia, about making love to Bones by the creek, about how he understood home.

Home; he’s been there ever since he met Bones – safe and warm and loved.

Home is where the heart is: home is in Bones’ hands. Steady.  Ever present to give Jim what he needs. Everything he needs.

“I’ll always be yours, Bones,” Jim promises, “Captain or not. However you want me.”

“Happy,” Bones says without a second thought, letting Jim’s hands go. “Before anything else.”

“I am happy,” Jim admits, “have been since you started ranting on the shuttle.”

“Always a masochist,” Bones jibes and Jim laughs.

“Damn straight.”

Bones exhales nervously, “close your eyes,” Bones whispers, “just for now.”

Jim obeys; it’s a little bit of leverage for Bones to hold onto, something to ground him, Jim understands and is adult enough to grant him that small concession if it’ll settle his lover’s nerves. Jim feels the cold drizzle of lube coating his cock chased by the sensation of Bones’ warm hand sliding over his skin. Jim’s hips twitch and Bones’ hand stops it’s movements, “stay really still, Jim, please do that for me.”

“Okay,” Jim breathes, internally clamping down on his lower half, keeping as still as is humanly possible. Bones continues to rub Jim’s cock for a little longer, until he’s rock hard. Jim feels Bones shift above him and hears a sharp intake of breath. Jim imagines the sight of Bones fingering himself and he almost can’t keep his hips still; he wants to rut against Bones like an animal, but he promised.

“Can I see you?” Jim whispers, hands itching to take hold of Bones, to guide him down onto his cock.

“Not yet,” Bones says, gentle but firm.

Jim nods, staying quiet and still and keeping his hands completely out of the equation until Bones says he can move. Until the head of his cock is being enclosed by tight, velvety flesh, slick and hot but with just the right friction, “oh, God,” Jim whimpers, tensing his jaw to keep from bucking.

“Open your eyes,” Bones says.

Jim can feel by the movement of his cock that Bones is leaning forward, but he still doesn’t expect the kiss he receives upon opening his eyes: raw and passionate. Jim’s hands move to Bones’ arms without hesitation as Bones continues to sink, millimetre by millimetre down onto Jim. Bones looks more blissed out than Jim would have imagined; it makes it a hundred times better, though, to know that Bones is actually enjoying this and not just doing it for Jim’s benefit.

“Don’t move,” Bones reminds, starting up a slightly faster rhythm, one that makes Jim gasp and moan. It’s been so long since he’s been inside someone, and it’s perfect. Coming home, he thinks tritely, smirking. Bones’ hands are planted on Jim’s chest, taking some of his weight, while Bones raises and lowers his ass. Jim can’t help but enjoy witnessing the spark of pleasure in those familiar hazel eyes, turning his eyes a bright, effervescent, amber.

“Can I touch you,” Jim asks, “please?”

Bones nods, watching as Jim’s hand curls around his cock, jacking in a similar rhythm to how he’s working himself over Jim’s cock. “Fuck me,” Bones whispers, and Jim’s sure it’s an exclamation not an order. But then Bones looks at Jim, “Jim, move,” he urges.

Jim chokes on the surprise, letting his hips roll with Bones’ at first, before he starts trusting against Bones’ movements, burying himself as deep as he can in Bones’ engulfing heat.

“Come for me, Jim,” Bones whispers, tensing around him.

“Oh, Bones,” Jim moans, guttural, heady with desire. It’s the deep sound of appreciation people make when they’re fed Michelin star food; venison steeped in red wine, or something.

He can feel his own slickness inside Bones now, and he changes the angle of his hips so they can work Bones to his own orgasm; the hand that isn’t on Bones’ cock rubs over one of Bones’ thighs, still levering him up and down Jim’s softening length.

“Jesus,” Bones pants, coming over Jim’s hand and stomach.

“No,” Jim chuckles, feeling drunk and breathless, “just me.”



“You ready, Captain?” Bones asks, patting down Jim’s command gold shirt.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jim nods, exhaling.

They’re standing in the shuttle hangar, earlier then they need to be but Jim wanted to be the first ones there; to lead by example and all that jazz. But for the moment it’s just him and Bones. Bones is looking nervous, his natural getting-on-a-shuttle face, and Jim’s tattoo is itching. They’ll work through it though. They’ll get on the shuttle and they’ll make a new home together on the Enterprise.

“James,” Pikes says, from the entrance of the hangar; the name making both Jim and Bones jump out of their skin.

“Admiral,” Jim smirks, turning to shake his hand.

“You watch him,” Pike says to Bones, and it sounds grave and fatherly; like Pike might threaten to get the shotgun out if Bones doesn’t bring Jim back from prom on time.

Or just back at all.

“With both eyes, sir,” Bones nods, kissing Jim’s cheek and moving closer to the shuttle, “I’ll give you both a minute.”

“Thanks,” Jim smiles, looking back to Pike.

“He’s a good man,” Pike says slowly, warily, like he doesn’t really want to admit it.

“Am I getting your approval?” Jim questions, smirking.

“I just worry about you, son,” Pike admits, “relationships are hard to keep up on a Starship.”

“We’ll make it work,” Jim says.

“If any two people can do it it’ll be you two I suppose,” Pike sighs, letting a smile peek through his features, “you contact me whenever you need to talk, Jim; you’ll do just fine up there.”

“I hope so,” Jim says, “I’ll try, anyway.”

“Your father would be so proud of you,” Pike assures him.

“And you?” Jim asks, not to hear the answer as much as to show Pike that what he thinks means just as much to Jim.

“I was proud of you the minute I saw you all cleaned up in those cadet reds,” Pike smiles, “knew you were gonna give me hell,” he jibes.

“Still will,” Jim promises.

Pike just smiles and excuses himself; he’s got physiotherapy; typically he uses a walking stick around the academy but it’s probably a pride thing that he’s not now. Jim makes his way over to Bones and throws himself down on the shuttle steps, resting his head on Bones’ shoulder.

“You think we’ll make it?” Jim wonders.

“We’ve gotten this far,” Bones says.

Jim chuckles, “and all because of a slap in Medical,” he smiles.

“Or a flask on a shuttle just like this one,” Bones suggests, looking at Jim intently.

“Or a flask on a shuttle just like this one,” Jim agrees, linking their fingers.

It’s not long before the rest of the crew begins to arrive, filling up their assigned shuttles and bracing themselves for this new phase of their life. A new ship: a new start. Jim gets pulled off in the bustle, directing people to various sections of the hangar and signing various requisition forms, listening to Scotty chattering about priming the warp core once before once they’re all on the ship.

He throws himself into the pilot seat; theirs is the last shuttle to depart and Bones contents himself with chattering to a medical yeoman who has hopes of becoming a nurse. Jim is, of course, focused on their route to the Enterprise, but he’s a genius Captain after all; he can multitask. He listens to Bones’ gentle encouragement, telling the young Andorian that perhaps they can sort something out with nurse Chapel when they get aboard so the boy can get some practical hours behind him and some proper training.

Jim falls in love with Bones all over again.

He’s pretty sure this is going to be a life trend.


(February 2259)

“Nibiru tomorrow,” Bones sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to come, you know.”

“You want me there,” Bones smiles.

“I do.”

“Just worried, I guess,” Bones shrugs, taking his shirts off and throwing them into the laundry chute, “you an’ your fool head schemes are known to go a bit…”

“Awry?” Jim supplies, smirking.

“Hmm,” Bones agrees.

“Maybe you need to get out of your head a bit,” Jim purrs, running a hand over Bones’ chest.

“Oh, you think so?” Bones raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips to conceal his smirk.

“Hmm,” Jim nods, unzipping his trousers, “it’s been, what, a month since you spanked me? I’ve been practically running wild,” he grins, “can hardly be controlled.”

“You are real outta control,” Bones agrees, nodding gravely.

“Exactly,” Jim agrees, “you should probably teach me a lesson, for the sake the crew.”

“I mean, I’m a doctor; it’d be like medicating you; or ah, alternative therapy,” Bones agrees, helping Jim out of his slacks and throwing them in the chute. “Eager,” Bones teases, smirking at Jim’s erection.

“I always,” Jim says emphatically, “enjoy time with my doctor.” They smirk at each other, holding back their laughter. “Spank me, Bones,” Jim requests, “please.”

“How could I say no when you ask so nicely?”

“You can’t,” Jim grins, clambering onto the bed, ass in the air.

“I’ve missed you,” Bones whispers, pressing his forehead to the back of Jim’s thigh, kissing the skin, “so busy aren’t you? All that responsibility? But you’re mine, James,” Bones states, voice dipping lower.

“Yours,” Jim agrees.

“Ask for it,” Bones says, hand perched over one cheek, nails biting into Jim’s skin.

“Please spank me,” Jim breathes, “please, Bones.”

“Can you handle ten, Jim?”

“Sixteen,” Jim counters, “we both need it.”

“Don’t tell me, Jim,” Bones states, “ask for it.”

“May I please have sixteen?” Jim rephrases, “hard, please.” The first strike makes him think about that first time: the heady rush of hot, sparkling pain, glittering out into pleasure. He arches his back further, gasps as Bones serves the next slaps in rapid succession. “Six,” Jim says, almost like an impulse and Bones moans to hear it.

“You’re so beautiful, James,” Bones says in awe.

“More, Bones, please,” Jim begs, rocking back into the seventh and eighth strike, “oh, fuck.”

Bones spanks each of Jim’s thighs in turn, twice, letting Jim’s ass have a short respite before his hand returns to soothe over the inflamed skin.

“Ask for it, James.”

“Please give me more,” Jim begs, “let me have another.”

Bones spanks his right cheek, hard.

“And another,” Jim chokes out, rolling his hips so his cock rubs tantalisingly against his abdomen.

“Don’t come yet, James,” Bones says, slapping Jim’s left cheek, “you’ve still got six more to go.”

Jim tries to nod, but he hasn’t got the energy; he just raises his hips more. Eleven and twelve make Jim whine and writhe; he’s squirming, bucking his hips and begging. He can hear himself: please, more, please. He counts the thirteenth allowed and feels Bones rub his clothed erection against Jim’s thigh, material rough and pulling over his already raw skin.

“Fourteen,” Bones says, slapping Jim’s other thigh, “fifteen,” he says, slapping just a little bit lower.

“Yes,” Jim breathes.

Bones pulls back slightly so he can firmly spank the opposite ass cheek, pinching at the skin, drawing a helpless yelp from Jim.

“What do we say to nice men that spank us, Jim?” Bones teases, licking a stripe over Jim’s nape.

“Thank you,” Jim says, looking back at him coyly, batting his eyelashes until Bones relents and presses his lips to Jim’s.

“I’m not too nervous,” Bones decides, “about tomorrow.”

Jim pulls him down onto the bed: Bones on his back and Jim close beside him, still on his front, “oh?”

“I’m quite keen actually.”

“Liar,” Jim scoffs.

“No,” Bones counters, smirking. “I know I’m real keen to see you in one of those wetsuits.”

“I’m naked right now,” Jim points out. “You’re not keen about that?”

Bones makes a show of taking a moment to consider the question, looking over Jim’s bare body, smile prurient, he shrugs, “I guess.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Epilogue: Ask For More 

(November 2265)

“What’re you doing?” Jim chuckles, trying to inch back from Bones’ hands.

“’m freezin’.”

“I know. Jesus, stop grabbing at me,” Jim smirks, taking Bones’ hands into his own and using the other man’s body to pull himself closer.

“It’s strange,” Bones murmurs, “t’ be back in the apartment.”

“We’ll be deployed again soon,” Jim consoles, “with heating regulators and everything.”

“Thank God,” Bones sighs.

“So we’ve been dating, for what? Five years now?” Jim starts, trying to sound casual.

“Are you kiddin’?” Bones scoffs. “Seven, Jim. And, like, six months?”

“Five months,” Jim corrects, “technically we started dating at the start of June.”

“Of course,” Bones smiles, “how could I forget?”

“Getting old, I guess,” Jim quips, Bones lets it go though, just rolling his eyes. They’ve just had sex and Jim knows he’s going to lose Bones to sleep soon if he doesn’t get a move on. It’s half one in the morning. This isn’t ideal and it isn’t romantic but if Jim doesn’t ask now he might never do it.

It’s been seven years after all.

“Can I ask you something?” Jim wonders, turning onto his side, curling into Bones.

“Sure, Jim,” Bones nods, kissing his forehead, “what’s up?”

“You once said that after Jocelyn… that you’d never get involved with someone who couldn’t handle you, all of you: the doctor; the gentleman; the sadist; all the little facets, right?” Jim recalls.

“Yeah,” Bones agrees, “sounds like somethin’ I’d say, with your own little additions,” he smiles.

“And we, we’ve got that, right? All of it: friends; lovers; best of all worlds?” Jim continues.

“What’re you gettin’ at, Jim?”

“I’m nervous,” Jim admits with a laugh, “I don’t wanna fuck things up.”


“I want to marry you,” Jim says plainly, “I want you to marry me,” he rephrases, it’s superfluous but he just wants to reiterate his point. “You’re always telling me to ask for what I want. So I’m asking, Bones, will you marry me?”

Bones looks at him strangely and Jim thinks he’s gravely misjudged their relationship.

“You wanna marry me?” Bones repeats, smiling.

“Yeah,” Jim nods, immediately feeling reassured at the sight of Bones’ smile.

“I’ll marry you, Jim,” Bones assents. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

“You always give me what I ask for,” Jim grins.

“Well,” Bones smirks, “you do ask so prettily.”