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Jim’s new purchase is adorable. Jim stands in the doorway to his quarters -their quarters, now- watching the exploration as it cautiously happens. Bones either doesn’t know he’s being watched or doesn’t care. Jim suspects he’s a little sheltered, doesn’t know what the Empire is capable of. He certainly doesn’t know what Jim is capable or, or he wouldn’t be poking so casually through his stuff.

Then again, technically he's now included as part of Jim’s stuff, so he could let it slide.

When the door slides shut behind Jim, Bones looks over. He’s not nearly defensive enough. Jim sort of feels like he’s brought a kitten to a dog fight. He’ll have to work on that.

The thinly veiled irritation on Bones’ face makes Jim smile. He’s really going to enjoy this. When he steps forwards, the irritation takes on a sort of guarded tension. So he does have some idea of what Jim must want from him.

And Jim must want. He really, really must. He made his purchase largely unseen and his fingers itch to touch that skin, to expose what’s now his. His heartrate quickens in anticipation of the fight he might have, in order to do so.

“You in need of a medical checkup, Captain?”

Jim bares his teeth in a close approximation of a smile. It’s a look that makes most of his officers run a mile, but Bones’ expectant raised eyebrow just climbs higher. He has no idea what he’s in for.

“You need to submit to a physical yourself, Doctor. It’s mandatory for all crew members.”

“So I’m considered a crew member, then, not just a pet?”

“Well, there’s a time and a place for everything.” Jim is much closer now, sees the flicker of doubt in Bones’ eyes, the fragility beneath his façade. It’s not quite good enough yet. But it’s not like he has to be anywhere in the ship on his own. He has time to learn, and who better than Jim to teach him? “You’ll be most comfortable on the bed.”

“I don’t mind a little discomfort.”

Jim allows a little of his impatience to shine through, when he says, “I think our definition of the word might differ.” Because it wasn’t an order, but he’s used to being obeyed. He adores Bones’ spirit, but here are lines to be drawn, clearly and firmly, if they are to have any sort of foundations on which to build the sort of partnership Jim needs. That they both need. What are Bones’ options, after all, but to go back to Georgia where his father’s allies will ruin him, or to strike out on his own and hope for the best? He’s nothing like strong enough for that.

And he knows it. His gaze flits to the bed, lavishly made up as it is in silks, satins, furs. There are benefits to being the Captain beyond getting to choose a direction in which to travel.

“This is what you want from me, then?” Bones asks. He’s resigned. Like he knows he can’t expect any better than that.

Jim disagrees. “I want everything. I want your submission, your devotion and your care. You will do whatever I tell you, and you will exist for my benefit. You will keep me alive, and satisfied. And I will make sure nobody touches you but me.”

Bones considers him. “I’ll still do my medical work?”

“When I allow you to.”

There’s more consideration, then, and Jim is thrilled to find himself assessed physically along with it. He smiles. Bones rolls his eyes and stalks towards the bed, lingers at the side of it, just touches the luxurious fabric of the sheets. He’s probably never seen anything so fine in his life. At that moment, Jim sort of feels like he hasn’t either.

Reverence sneaks into his tone when he says, “Lay down. On your back.”

Bones frowns. His gaze flickers down to his boots, and Jim enters his personal space to look him in the eye, to wind his arms around Bones’ neck as he tells him, “I will tell you what I want. You won’t be punished for not knowing. You will be punished for unnecessary delays. Do you understand.”

Jim keeps him close, gives him nowhere else to look, no way to deny the inevitable. Assessing eyes search his for- what? Sincerity? Severity? Or is Bones just looking because he thinks they’re pretty? They’re so close that if Jim tilted his head, their noses would brush. He can feel warm breath mingling with his own, is aware of the rise and fall of Bones’ chest. Bones is very slightly taller than him. It won’t matter when he’s on his knees.

Stiffly, Bones nods.

Jim does bump their noses then, the incongruity of the affection making Bones blink. He does have a gorgeous face. Jim resists the urge to kiss him, as warm and wet and satisfying as he knows it will be. A better idea is beginning to form in the back of his mind, and he revels in the electric anticipation of almost instead. He barely needs to speak louder than a whisper. “When I ask you a question, I want you to answer me verbally. Do you understand?”


The answer comes quickly enough, but it’s not quite right. Jim considers. “Try ‘yes, Captain’.”

It’s hard to tell whether Bones shudders or shivers. “Yes, Captain.”

No, not quite. Jim tilts his head. “Maybe- ‘yes, sir’.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jim twists a little and leans, presses the jut of his cheekbone against Bones’ and sighs. It’s still not quite there. The words should be lovely, in those hoarse, Southern tones, but it just isn’t working. He trails his fingers through the hair at the nape of Bones’ neck, just enjoying the feel of it as he thinks. Bones smells good, masculine and citrusy and real, like fresh air after being cooped up on a starship for too long.

It’s because he’s just come from Earth, Jim tells himself. There’s no deeper meaning there. “Say ‘yes, Jim’.”

Bones’ breath hitches. It’s a lovely sound. “Yes, Jim.”

“Oh, that’s it.” When Jim pulls back with the faintest brush of his nose against Bones’ jaw, that big, stubborn man sways as though to follow him before he blinks back to frowning.

“Get on the bed.”

“Yes, Jim.”

Jim makes a pleased humming sound as Bones cautiously sits, then works his way backwards. “That’s lovely. But you’ll only speak when I ask you to.”

He deliberately doesn’t check Bones’ understanding of the command, sees him glare and clench his jaw as though to fight back the words that would escape. He does lay back, though, still fully dressed down to his boots and tension evident in every one of his limbs.

As he watches, Jim removes the phaser he has tucked at the small of his back, the one concealed in his boot, the one up his sleeve, and sets them in the bedside cabinet programmed to his fingerprints. Bones grows a little more disconcerted with every one, and he hasn’t seen any of the blades yet. Jim doubts he’ll need them, but he knows he can never be sure.

He crawls onto the bed, straddles Bones’ waist. Bones won’t meet his eyes. It’s why he gets no warning before Jim begins to unfasten the collar of his own shirt, why he has no chance to hide the flash of alarm and then involuntary arousal in his reaction. Jim shifts his hips as he shrugs the jacket off, just to make Bones squirm. He even flushes so pretty, although he lays with his arms limp at his sides, making no attempt to physically resist.

And that won’t do. Jim doesn’t enjoy sex unless there’s a little fight to it, one way or another. He’s not quite sure which way Bones will go, just yet. “Have you ever been owned before?”

“Oh, yeah, people are just chomping at the bit to own me.” Bones is too defensive to remember his manners. Jim beams at the thought of designing a punishment for him until Bones recalls exactly where he is and adds, begrudgingly, “No, Jim.”

“So I’m your first?”

Silence. Yet more evasion. Jim almost pushes it, until he realises why. “Oh, Bones. Really?”

“I’ve fucked women. I‘ve just- not with men. It’s not so unusual.”

“But you want to, right?”

“You just bought me, what do you expect me to say to that?”

“Bones.” Jim is thrilled but he doesn’t let that show, hardening his eyes, setting his jaw. It’s a warning look that has been known to make yeomen spontaneously soil themselves. Or that could be the judicial application of an agoniser to go along with it. “Do you want to fuck men?”

He sees Bones consider lying, but by then he’s already hesitated too long. He squirms, delightfully, beneath Jim, just briefly, then closes his eyes. Jim has no idea why; if he’s fearing punishment, surely it’s better to see it coming. And if he’s ashamed, well- Jim itches to exact his own judgment on those who convinced him of that. He’s too busy watching the single tear trickle down Bones’ cheek to prompt him, instead savours the anticipation before he’s told, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Yes, Jim.”

When those pretty hazel eyes open again, they’re wet and so much is shining there that Jim’s breath catches. All the denial, the years of longing, the guilt. It’s beautiful.

“Don’t you worry, Bones,” Jim murmurs, leaning down to nose at the line of tension in that sharp jaw, the sweet, vulnerable throat beneath it. “I’ll make sure you never forget your first time.”

That makes Bones shudder. His heart rate picks up exponentially beneath Jim’s questing lips. He doesn’t want to touch, he has to, needs to feel more of that flawless softness against him.

He’ll have to get Bones a uniform, Jim muses, as he sits up to work at the buttons of Bones’ shirt. It’s far too easy to get him out of it, at the moment, and he needs something that makes Jim’s claim clear to any who might want to try their luck. Something more than the brands Jim is going to etch into his skin, as soon as he decides where.

And what a wonderful, unmarred expanse he has to choose from. Bones is gorgeous, broad chest heaving, tapering down to a slim waist, just a little hair marking the trail beneath his waistband. Jim runs his thumb over that trail, watches the muscles of Bones’ stomach twitch beneath it, keeps it up while Bones closes his eyes, refuses to react. Huh. Jim really thought he’d be more aggressive in his resistance. Maybe when he gains a little more confidence.

For now, Jim will just have to convince him he has it as good as he can ever hope to have it.

And he’s going to start right there, rearranges himself, shifts back so he can lean down and press his lips to the flutter in those stomach muscles. Here, he thinks. Right here, he’ll have his claim marked into sensitive skin, right where a soft touch makes him whimper helplessly. Jim will have him screaming, sobbing, begging beneath needles or a brand or a knife. And then he’ll lick him clean.

Bones settles a little where he had been finding tension, as Jim trails kisses upwards, over the heaving of his chest, coming to rest on his sternum to feel the pounding of his heart. He’s so warm, so sweet and lovely. Previous. Jim wants to keep him in a cage and pet him when he feels the desire. He wants him on his knees besides the Captain’s chair, awaiting Jim’s instructions, ignoring all else. Or waiting in his bed, naked, filled with something thick and hard and vibrating, but not able to come until Jim’s cock stretches him wide instead. Or as well.

So many ideas. Jim can’t wait to try them all.

First, though, he needs to find more of those sensitive areas. Bones squirms when Jim grazes his teeth across the thin skin over his collarbones. He’ll look gorgeous with a series of bite marks across them.

He clenches his jaw when Jim tongues at his nipples, but he actually cries out and arches when Jim nips at them, won’t meet his eyes when Jim grins at him triumphantly. Jim can’t get that reaction again, even though he tries until those hard nubs are sore and swollen, but Bones is shifting restlessly, almost constantly, by the time he lets up. Jim will pierce them himself, thread pretty silver bars through them and suckle on them for hours, until Bones is coming or sobbing with the need to. He can almost taste the metal on his tongue already.

The sensitive spots beneath his ears need tattooing. He’ll have to strap Bones down to keep him still, from the way he squirms when Jim bites him there.

Jim removes Bones’ boots himself, tosses them aside, revels in the fear in those pretty eyes, the teeth digging into that plush bottom lip. Still, though, Bones doesn’t resist. He just lays there, attempting to pretend that he isn’t enjoying it, that he doesn’t want to touch Jim in return.

It’s obvious that he does. He’s desperately hard, straining against his pants until Jim eases those off, too. Jim can’t hold back his own appreciative sound as he tugs underwear off too, leaves Bones naked on his bed, splayed and wanting and denying, utterly perfect.

His cock is lovely, curving delicately towards his belly, long and thick and wet at the head where the flesh is darkened. Jim traces the underside just gently with a knuckle, watches Bones’ face, so sweet and pleading. He still thinks he doesn’t want this. Jim knows better.

And it’s getting a little warm in there. He kicks off his boots, strips off his undershirt.

It’s the first time Bones actively recoils from him, and Jim’s on him, has a hand around his throat in warning before he can move any further.

“You- oh, God-“ Bones squeezes his eyes shut, won’t look at him. He’s right, maybe, to be appalled. Jim decided early on that if life were going to shape him in such a way, he was going to turn it to his advantage.

So, yes. He was born during an attack on the ISS Kelvin, his escape shuttle damaged, his mother beside herself with vengeful grief. He bears burn marks down one side, from just below his shoulder to just above his knee. His stepfather was strong enough to make him suitable for an alliance with Jim’s mother, crafty enough to know her son would inherit whatever the two of them managed to build. He tried bending Jim to his will and failed, but Jim still bears marks from his attempts. Cigarette burns; fingernail imprints around his forearms. The worst injuries actually can’t yet be seen. Frank used to reach for him under the dinner table and slice the skin of his thighs with razor blades until he grew accustomed enough to hide the shock, the pain and the blood.

The whip marks are probably the worst, visibly. They solidly stripe Jim’s back and there are a few across his chest, thick and brutal, souvenirs of his time on Tarsus IV. And amongst those, the character-building scars he obtained at the Academy. He’s proud of never being the one who came off worse in any fight, but he still bears wounds, stab marks, phaser burns, jagged scars where exploded shrapnel pierced his skin. He’s never had them healed beyond what would keep him alive. They’re a constant reminder of what he has lived through, what he’s capable of surviving.

It’s meant to be intimidating. It’s proof of who he is. Bones’ breath hitches like he’s about to sob.

“Look at me,” Jim commands. For a moment he thinks Bones won’t, but then he does. He’s truly scared now, trembling, but his gaze is steady when he meets Jim’s eyes. “I will run this Empire. And you’re going to help me. Because I know how I look and everybody else has always come off worse. I don’t need you to help me through papercuts and phaser burns. I need you to stop the bleeding quickly enough that I can kill whoever did it to me in the first place.

“And in return,” Jim leans over him, stares down into those wide eyes. “I will make sure not a single one of them touches you. There is nobody else in this Empire who can promise you that. Not with me in it.”

For the first time, he thinks Bones really sees the truth. How dangerous it is just being on that damn ship. How much it will benefit him to have an alliance with her Captain.

He has at no point been told not to touch. Jim wishes he would, but the only searching is done with Bones’ eyes. He catalogues Jim’s injuries, mentally, diagnosing, probably in some places imagining worse than the reality. Not many, though. His cock has softened in his panic although, Jim notes with delight, not entirely. To see it so soft and vulnerable-looking, the head still glistening wet, makes Jim ache to escape his own pants.

So he does. Bones gasps, or maybe sobs. It’s not clear whether he’s thinking about the dozens of tiny cuts to Jim’s thighs, the lean musculature of his body, the not inconsiderable girth of Jim’s cock, soon to be splitting him open.

Jim drinks in the sight of him for just another moment before he says, “Roll over.”

It seems like Bones is having the opposite problem to the one he was having earlier; he can barely take his eyes off Jim, now, although he does as he’s told. It’s Jim’s first chance to see him in full, to take in that gorgeous expanse of tanned skin. Bones has freckles across his shoulders, a glorious, shapely ass, strong legs. He gasps when Jim straddles him again, settling his weight on those tense thighs. Bones’ fists clench in the sheets, up by his head.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jim murmurs. He traces patterns on the vast, unmarred plane of that back, mind conjuring up a variety of designs to be etched more permanently on his living canvas. He leans forward, holds his weight on his elbows by Bones’ head, to kiss the damp skin at his hairline. It brings his cock right where he wants it to be, in the crease of that wonderful ass, and he rocks experimentally a few times to hear Bones gasp and feel the warm, soft caress of flesh on his heated, sensitive skin. “I’m not like them. I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you. But everything I do will have a reason. If you can trust in that-“ Jim sinks his teeth into the junction of Bones’ neck and shoulder, increases the pressure until he makes a soft, whimpering sound, and then kisses the skin he’s bruised, laps at it with his tongue- “Then we can do anything.”

“You can do anything,” Bones grumbles, a little unwisely, Jim thinks, for a man with his back to him.

“I have to learn-” Jim kisses down Bones spine, pauses to run experimental fingers up his sides to see where a touch makes him shift- “to trust you too, you know. You think just anybody is allowed to share my space? To lay their hands on me while I’m injured? Unconscious?” It’s a tragedy, really, having to tear himself away from approaching that glorious ass, but he contents himself with crawling back up to nip at an earlobe, to murmur, with increasing gravity, “You’re my first too, Bones.”

And it’s worth it, oh how it’s worth it, to feel Bones shudder, to hear him mewl his surprise, to learn a little more about him and what he wants, what Jim will need to give him, to keep him. He values the emotional over the physical, that much is clear, but he can’t possibly be so foolish and naïve to be governed by it. Can he?

“I’ll be yours. As much as you’ll be mine,” Jim says, as he reaches, as he delves his fingers between the cheeks of that glorious ass to just brush against the tight, furled hole there. He knows that there’s more to the act that simple penetration, so any nerves he can stimulate before he’s even really started. He intends to make the most of every single one of them. He’s going to make this beautiful man beg for every scrap of attention he doesn’t know is already his.

“They clean you? At the market?” It’s a question Jim already knows the answer to; he’s crawling down Bones’ body, trailing yet more kisses down until he’s close enough to small it, the musk and the antibac, the clean reality of the deepest, purest part of this man. He just needs, with an intensity that unsettles him, to hear Bones say it.

“Y- yes, Jim.”

“They get inside you? Fill you up?” Just the thought is making Jim breathless, is doing far worse to Bones. He’s trembling, humiliated and aroused. Jim wants to see it first hand, wants to push a tube into that tight, virgin hole and flush him out, ready for a fuck he can’t possibly know how to anticipate.

Jim’s mouth waters. He’s going to need to make a list. Set aside some time in his diary. He wants to do everything, wants to invent new intimate acts just so they can commit them together.

He’s never been this devoted to a new pet, before.

Well, there’s a first time for everything.