Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart! part 4/5
title: Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! part 4/5
N.B. All thanks and notes etc, including links to the soundtrack mix, A03 link, as well as the movie poster are to found in the Zing! Masterlist! And additional thanks to weepingnaiad for technical advice on Jim’s hacking skills and other daft questions she’s answered with such good grace. I don’t know what I’d do without you, bb!
The first track in this part, You and the Night and The Music is blocked in the USA. It's the only link I could find with this version. Sorry. :( But it is available in the download.)
by norfolkdumpling
back to part 3
. Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! Part 4/5
Jim ejects the chip from his PADD and slips it into the coin pocket of the gray pinstripe; the chip holds his Awesome Music Mix of Love, all tracks lifted from the hotel’s data base and put together with Bones in mind. He heads for the balcony and clambers down the creepers. Checking the coast is clear, he jumps silently to the ground and jogs the short distance to the dock.
The air’s fragrant with tropical flowers; night birds and the Risan equivalent of crickets chirruping, the light silver and ethereal from the moons glowing against the charcoal, star studded canopy above. It’s a perfect night for romance and Jim feels like he’s in a movie.
Not wanting to appear too eager, as well as to give himself time to get into character, Jim slows to a walk when he spots an unmistakable figure sitting on the rails silhouetted against the harbor lights.
“Ahoy-there!” he calls out, instantly regretting how cheesy it sounds when Bones throws him a cynical look, one eye half closed as Jim swaggers up.
“You’re late,” Bones says, pushing off the rail and looking Jim up and down.
Well that’s not fair - Bones is also late. It was unavoidable since the band played two encores. After, while Bones shared out the Russian’s champagne with the rest of the girls, Jim slipped away complaining of a headache. It gave him time to shed the girl-disguise and take a quick shower. Still, Jim gets that this is Bones on the defensive, the soft, romantic, easily bruised core surrounded by a force field of snark. Bones has never sniped at Jemima, just the select few - like Spock. Jim wonders if he should feel flattered or worried.
“In that case I happy give you second apology of the day, but is not really necessary as I was watching you in the ballroom… you know is not possible to be in two places at once, yes-?“
Bones takes a moment to contemplate Jim’s best ‘come on, I’m awesome face’ and the side of his mouth quirks. “Touché,” he finally says folding his arms. “But take into account I didn’t see you in the ballroom.” Ah, so Bones was looking for him. This makes Jim’s heart dance a little.
“Was very crowded.”
“Sure was.”
There’s a tense silence and Bones’ eyes flicker towards the boats then back to Jim. Bones too has made the effort to get changed. He looks casually glamorous in a simple, single-breasted black silk suit and black dress shirt with miles of gorgeous, coffee colored neck exposed, and tantalizing glimpses of chest hair making Jim flush a little.
Jim runs his tongue over dry lips and offers his hand with a half bow. “We have not been formally introduced. I am Chekov, Pavel Andreivitch. I am your servant.” And that was a bordering on camp, Jim thinks.
There’s a beat while Bones regards the offered hand and he pulls his own out of a pocket to clasp Jim’s lightly. “Yeah, I know your name…”
His body language is non-committal, guarded, like he hasn’t decided whether to take up the invitation yet. But he’s here, right? Jim thinks - and the first step is always the hardest. So, rolling out the Kirk charm, because it’s never failed him yet, Jim guides the warm, elegant hand to his lips and kisses it like he’s been a gentleman all his life.
Maybe it’s too much because Bones backs away very slightly. On the other hand, the rising flush which seems to have reached the tip of Bones’ ears might indicate that the little gesture was precisely the right thing to do. Jim looks away to compose himself because he can’t help wondering what the hell else would make Bones blush like that. He feels a throb in his cock and looks up to catch dark eyes.
“Well, you sure are a gentleman of extremes…one minute rude, and now I see you’re choosing to find your manners.”
“This is true,” Jim says, bowing again. “I owe you apology. Please accept my deepest regret, Mr. McCoy, I was not myself this afternoon.”
“Assumin’ ‘yourself’ ain’t an ass-hole, sure, apology accepted.” Bones shoves his hands into his pockets. “And thanks for the champagne. That said, I’m not sure about supper, I gotta tell ya.” He wets his lips.
Jim scans his face and recognizes the tell tale signs of fear; just like on the ship, there’s a fine mist of perspiration on Bones’ nose as his eyes flicker repeatedly towards the yacht moored well away from the shore. It’s not that Bones is worried about breaking his vow of ‘celibacy’ again - it’s that he doesn’t want to risk the motor boat. Jim smiles to himself.
“If you will allow me to take you to the Enterprise, you will see that my hospitality will more than make up for doubt, Mr. McCoy. The sea is calm, and it is mere minutes to my yacht.” Jim lifts an arm to indicate they get going.
Bones considers this for a moment then appears to make a decision his voice irritable and drawly.
“Quit with the ‘mister’. I’m Len, okay?” He moves to the steps. “And what shall I call you, Chekov, Pavel Andreivitch? That’s some mouthful and I gotta save my voice for the show.”
“Pavel is good name,” Jim says, “and if you allow me to be your host? To make up for rudeness, perhaps then you will think of even better name for me?”
Niice, Jim thinks, very smooth.
“Hold your horses, mister, let’s see what you keep in your liquor cabinet before we start exchanging vows.” And there’s that killer smile - Jim suppresses a smirk and bows again.
“Of course. Now, if you will allow me, this is my boat - it take us to the Enterprise.” Jim reverses down the ladder first and holds the boat steady until Bones joins him. And there is no way that Jim’s checking out that fine ass when Bones turns his back. No way. Not now he’s a gentleman.
Jim inserts his chip into the dash then fiddles with the rope giving his code breaker time to infiltrate the computer’s system. He slips the old fashioned key in - the one he lifted from the Russian’s pocket earlier that day, and glances over his shoulder to see if Bones is settled yet - Jim can see a pulse in his cheek; the guy looks mighty worried but he’s holding it together so far.
Jim almost crows with delight when he hears: Good evening, Mr. Chekov.
He puts his glasses on quickly and peers at the screen - awesome - he’s retrieved the system's password although he doesn’t answer immediately to allow his Trojan to infiltrate and convert his voice to Chekov’s.
Jim turns to smile at Bones, and notes how his gaze lingers on Jim’s face. He indicates Bones sit down.
Jim removes his glasses and slides them into his breast pocket. The allergy to Retinax has never seemed like anything more than an inconvenience before, but now, the way Bones glances away - thank you spectacles of sexi-timez! He’s aware of white knuckles gleaming in the moonlight where Bones grips the side of the boat. Jim rests a reassuring hand on Bones’ knee; he doesn’t shrug off it off. Jim uploads his music mix and then taps the screen to fire up the boat while his first track plays:
***You and the Night and the Music***
Bones raises an eyebrow when he recognizes the intro but the smug grin jolts off Jim’s face immediately when the boat lunges backwards and heads out on auto-pilot. Jim recovers smoothly he thinks: “In Russia we prefer travelling backwards to ship - it is good luck.”
Bones rolls his eyes, “Well, I guess I’ve heard stranger things…”
You and the night and the music
Fill me with flaming desire
Setting my being completely on fire
You and the night and the music
Thrill me but will we be one
After the night and the music are done
Jim passes the five minutes it takes for the hover-boat to reach the Enterprise in contemplating Bones who turns to watch Risa’s lights. Jim takes in the strong jaw, the way his thick, shiny hair needs cutting and frays over perfect, sun-kissed ears. He wonders what it would feel like to drag his tongue along the chest hair where the shirt’s un-buttoned, or across the soft fullness of Bones’ lips. Jim takes little mental pictures of the shadow of stubble on his chin, the glide of his Adam’s apple as Bones tries to swallow down his fear, the smooth skin behind his ear, the place Jim knows that he if were to press his nose and inhale, that’s where he’d find Bones, the scent, the essence of this man.
“Real pretty,” Bones says, interrupting Jim’s little wander down the path of man-crush.
“I was thinking same,” Jim agrees, his voice a little husky and with half an ear on the lyrics:
If we must live for the moment
Love 'til the moment is through
After the night and the music die
Will I have you?
“We’re here,” Bones says, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline when the boat bumps to a stop against the side of the yacht. Damn, Jim should have been concentrating. “That a Russian tradition too?”
“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” Jim says truthfully, reaching for the ladder with damp palms. He ties the boat and allows Bones to go first, his long hands and legs moving easily till he can climb onto the narrow, teak deck.
“Is very beautiful, yes?” Jim says. The Enterprise looks so much better than he imagined. He has to stop himself doing a little bounce, remembering that luxury and success are Pavel’s, i.e. his way of life and temporarily, Jim isn’t the same man who sold his coat to make a few dimes. Nonchalant that’s it… deep breath…”My father have in family very long time.”
His accent’s slipping. Jim suspects he’s beginning to sound Danish or something, but if it’s true, Bones doesn’t appear to notice, too busy running long fingers over the polished wood and old style handles on the door to the cabin. Bones nods towards the shore where the resort lights twinkle gold and blue in the distance, the sound of laughter and music carried by the breeze towards them. “This place must be pretty private.”
Jim nods taking in all the details of their surroundings so that he doesn’t give himself away. First thing is booze, they need booze - champagne goggles will work in his favor. Here’s hoping the Russian’s got more than vodka on board.
As Bones leans on the rail and looks across the flat water, a warm off-shore breeze stirs his hair. The light from both moons picks out the white sand below the surface even at this depth. Everything is so fucking romantic and perfect that Jim’s itching to get going on their date properly. He waits till Bones isn’t looking and tries the door to below deck.
“You enjoy view, I return in one minute.”
Now that the computer’s at Jim’s beck and call, the security force field disabled even before they boarded, he’s free to roam. “Lights, twenty-five percent,” he whispers, pulling the door closed behind him. His mouth falls open at the cosy, opulent bachelor pad before him. He can still smell fresh paint, like it’s been newly spruced up just for Pavel’s eighteenth birthday. There’s a mixture of pieces from the past two centuries in expensive natural fabrics. It must have cost a fortune just to import the boat.
Jim rummages through a mini- fridge and locates a bottle of champagne, vodka and caviar, then searches a cupboard for something to go with it. Crackers - perfect!
He picks up two vodka glasses, made from finest Tellerite glass with a hint of blue, and rests them on the coffee table. He chooses a pair of champagne flutes and is just peeking in a cupboard to see what else might compliment their supper when a mountain of fishing equipment collapses on top of him, reels spooling and rods clattering around his feet. He curses a blue streak, shoves it all back haphazardly and knees the door shut collapsing against it panting when he hears:
“Hey, Pavel, you okay down there?”
“Yes, yes - I am here.” He fluffs up a couple of pillows on the enormous couch that takes up one entire wall of the cabin, and runs a finger along a shelf filled with antique books on one wall looking for that final touch. He settles for Captain Horatio Hornblower and throws it on the pillows.
“Rewind Awesome Music Mix of Love’” he instructs the computer, “track 3,” so that by the time he’s up on deck, bottle of champagne in one hand and glasses dangling upside down from the other, Norah Jones rings out softly behind them. It’s a gamble, but Jim’s dug deep into his soppy favorites for this night. He waits for a reaction, sure it’ll be a sneer.
Bones rests the glass on the rail and watches Jim pour, an impenetrable look on his face.
***I’ve got to see you again***
“You like this music?” Jim asks tentatively, wishing he had a hand free to wipe the sweat off his forehead - it’s possible he didn’t breathe the whole time he was down below. He raises his glass to chink with Bones’.
“Sure, I like the old stuff…” Bones’ lips purse over the rim of the glass. Raising his own, Jim bumps his teeth when he becomes transfixed at the tan column of Bones’ neck, watching worriedly as Bones downs the whole glass in one.
As if reading Jim’s mind, Bones quirks a grin, and holds his glass out for a refill. ”That one was for my nerves, I’m slowin’ right down now...” An eyebrow raise and Bones adds, “after this one right here.” Jim pours and the bubbles fizz over Bones’ knuckles.
“Sorry--” But it’s a lie. Jim isn’t in the slightest bit sorry, not now he gets to watch Bones lick the spilled champagne off steady fingers, plush lips forcing Jim to take a steadying breath.
Jim takes a tentative half step closer and tops up his own glass. “Is very dry, extra sec, to prepare your tongue.“
Their hands rest on the rail side by side, their finger tips so close. They glance down at the same time, and when Jim looks up again, Bones is holding his gaze, pupils dilated thanks to the champagne buzz.
“Prepare my tongue for what?” he drawls, “Should I be excited?”
His fingers move so, so slightly, deliberately along the rail towards Jim’s; the sudden shift in the power dynamic making Jim feel a little light-headed. His finger tips tease against Jim’s sending little electric shocks through him.
Heart hammering, Jim turns away and indicates the door to below deck. “I have more to tempt you below, but first let us enjoy the view and listen to the music.” He tops up Bones' glass again and leans on the rail with him, watching his nostrils flare very slightly when the bubbles tickle.
“I have not brought anyone here before,” Jim says. Well that’s the truth at least.
“The hell you haven’t.“ Bones has become more mellow, less guarded with each sip and Jim’s noticed hazel eyes lingering a little longer on his face, trailing down to his lips.
“And we’re alone? No hidden army of slaves down in the engine room?” Bones takes the bottle from him, making Jim start, and the little brush of their hands sends another spark through him.
“I gave the stewart ze night off. Is just you and me, Leonard.”
Bones rests his glass and the bottle on the deck, then takes Jim’s glass and drains it. He looks directly into Jim’s eyes, the air heavy between them. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Pavel?” Jim watches dumbly when Bones adds his glass to the collection on the boards then steps between Jim’s feet and crowds him against the rail. He’s so close Jim can smell the intoxicating fruit of the champagne on his breath.
“I sink it is you getting you drunk,” Jim manages.
Bones chuckles at that. “Really now…?” He leans in and Jim swallows when a strong hand slides to the back of his neck, fingers cool from the bottle. Jim can feel sweet, hot breath puff against his mouth. Bones is going to kiss him, it’s what he’s dreamed of since first casting eyes on him, but...“I jus’ need to check one more thing…” Bones whispers close to his ear.
“Uh-huh?”
“Please tell me you ain’t a sax player…”
And this, this is what makes Jim’s stomach flip. Fuck, he can’t go through with this - it’s wrong on so many levels; what a time for his conscience to rear it’s unwanted head. He decides then the best thing is to have a few drinks, no making out, so the date’s a date, but he won’t be guilty of taking advantage of Bones, of lying to him. It’s just that those lips are so fucking tempting and Christ he smells so good...maybe just one...
It’s with supreme effort of will that Jim splays his hand on Bones’ chest and pushes him away a little. “I have to make a warning -“
Bones frowns. “Warning? What? Do you have cooties or something? You must have had your shots, they don’t let anyone off planet who’s not immunized…”
“Yes, I mean, no, and of course I have shots…” a second hand, this time bunching Jim’s shirt. Fuck, fuck, fuck…what can he say? I’ve lied to you, I’m in love with you, I…I’m sorry?
“I have a condition-“ Jim blurts out.
“-what kind of a condition?” His lips are millimeters away.
“I cannot become aroused, nothing works, not the kissing, not touching, not...umph...”
It’s too late. Jim’s legs almost buckle when Bones kisses him. He can see now why Bones took the breakables away - his champagne tinged tongue pushed in without hesitation. It sweeps across Jim’s, a rough chin scraping against his, fingers tightening their hold in the short hairs at Jim’s neck. His eyes fall shut and he curses the stupid lie because just this, the smell of him, those soft, dark lips insistent and yielding all at once make Jim so hard, if Bones were to touch him, he’d know. And Jim wants to touch, to be touched so bad; despite wanting to do the right thing, he can’t seem to stop.
Jim goes into over-drive and with the warm fragrant breeze caressing them, the gentle rocking of the boat adding to the mood, he throws caution aside and gives as good as he gets. He wraps an arm around Bones and guides him closer, tilting his head for better access - if this is going to be their one and only night together, he wants to make the most of it so he can memorize every detail. He wants to be Cinderella at the ball, conscience be damned, for he’ll get his come-uppance when he returns his costume later. For now, he’s got to do this or he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He tries hard to not think about what Bones would think of the real Jim who’s a loser, a wanderer with no morals and no integrity - who’s fucking lied to him. As their tongues war and arms wind around each other, Jim vows that whatever happens, he won’t let things heat up any more than they have. A few more kisses, a couple of drinks and then he’ll take Bones back and no harm done.
They break apart after an eternity. Mouth swollen and slick, Bones looks questioningly into Jim’s eyes. “So...” he says, panting a little, while he runs a thumb across Jim’s lower lip. He leans in and whispers into Jim’s ear, “no ‘arousal’?”
Drunk on more than just champagne, it’s with great difficulty Jim manages to shake his head. “Yes, is pleasant, but no, I feel nothing more than warm tongue.”
Bones draws his eyebrows together. “Maybe we’re doin’ it wrong?”
“I don’t sink so…”
“But you felt… nothing?” Bones takes a second to process this then pulls away, runs his hand through his hair, and shakes his head. “We’re rushing things, we’ll go below, get to know each other.”
Fuck, he’s such a god damned gentleman. Jim forces a smile and moves to the door, bows so Bones goes down the steps first giving Jim an opportunity to adjust himself because this might be one lie too far - his cock’s threatening to break free of it’s own accord if Jim doesn’t help it out.
“Real cosy,” Bones is saying and he turns a half circle. “What business are you in?”
“Dilithium crystals - transportation, is big money.” Jim’s researched the Chekovs, so no lie there at least - still he’s going to have to steer the conversation away from potentially tricky topics. “Please sit, let us not talk of such…”
“…boring ass crap?” Bones chuckles, “Sure thing.”
Bones slouches on the couch, legs falling apart and his eyes never leave Jim while he moves about the small space. Jim rummages in the freezer compartment and draws a long breath to calm himself. He takes out the slim bottle of Lordanov Vodka. The Russian won’t miss it, even though it’s worth more than the entire band will earn in the three weeks combined.
“Ah, I forget, we must stand to drink wodka.”
“Is this what you’ve preparing my tongue for?” Bones points at the bottle.
“Also this…” Jim waves his hand across the caviar and the salt crackers. “Now stand, please.”
“Damn you’re bossy…” Bones gets to his feet again and moves towards Jim who’s busy pouring out two shots. His skin prickles when Bones leans close to look at the label.
“We must toast and Russian tradition is you put glass down only when wodka gone.”
“All of it?” Bones looks worried, his eyebrows drawing together.
Jim smiles - damn he’s adorable. “Just in glass. Okay - I make toast first!” He holds up the shot and tries to remember the few words of Russian he knows, curiously enough all linked to alcohol.
“ Za zdroveye!” he says and knocks back his drink then slams the glass on the table.
Bones narrows his eyes, looks at Jim’s mouth. “Come again?”
Jim repeats the toast and tries not to stare too hungrily at Bones’ lips when they curl around the unfamiliar sounds.
Bones knocks the shot back and puffs out a noisy breath staring at Jim wide eyed and not a little impressed. “Fuck!”
“Is good?”
Bones clears his throat then tilts his head playfully all dimples and gleaming eyes. “Not sure, I need to try again. What… did you say, anyways?”
“To health!” Jim explains briskly and knocks back a second glass.
Bones looks alarmed but follows suit. Their glasses thunk on the table top. Once his face has returned to normal Bones says, “Must be my turn to toast?”
Jim nods and refills both their glasses.
“To music!” Bones announces with a grin.
“Yes! To music!”
They slam their glasses down and Jim bends to refill them. He notices Bones is beginning to sway very slightly so, “Last toast!” he announces. He only gives Bones a thimble full this time, and Jim puts an arm around him for support. Raising his glass he says quietly, “zalyoobof!”
Bones regards him with lidded eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his face looming suddenly very near.
Jim’s heart is pounding. “To love…” he explains softly.
“Amen to that.” Bones tips back his vodka then unexpectedly pushes his mouth against Jim’s, allowing the sharp liquid to spill across Jim’s tongue. He gasps, swallows, the tingle in Jim’s throat and gut and the back of his eyelids only partly due to the booze he knows.
They kiss long and slow standing arms wrapped around each other, vodka chilled tongues rolling gently, and finally warming against each others; Bones’ mouth pliant and trusting against his. But Jim needs to put the brakes on, he promised himself. When he tries to speak, Bones gets the hint and pulls away a little to give him room. Finally, Jim’s able to utter words he never thought he’d say until way past his hundredth birthday:
“I must remind you, I will not be able to maintain erection.”
“That’s okay…I like kissing…” Bones sweeps his tongue across Jim’s bottom lip.
While it feels, tastes amazing, his cheeks burning, his senses in override, for once Jim’s telling the truth. The irony is that Jim’s lie has bitten him on the ass. Each little touch and kiss has turned Jim inside out till he knows that one thing he doesn’t want to, mustn’t do is hurt Bones. Too much thinking about consequences equals too much blood in the brain with zero left to travel south. Fuck. He really can’t get hard.
Bones must notice how Jim’s face falls because he takes his hand and pulls Jim to the couch so they’re both sitting on the edge. “Come on, Pavel, tell me - I’m a good listener.”
Jim shakes his head, searches around in his booze-addled brain for something he can explain this away with, a plausible reason for his impotence: an injury, a shock? Better if it’s based in truth. He glances at the crackers on the table and remembers how he examined the label earlier.
“I have many allergies - not to wodka,” he forces a chuckle, “but milk, mustard seeds, peanuts… also other things…” he reaches for the gold pot of caviar and pushes his finger into the the pea sized gray eggs. “Once was making love and I kiss boy. He have peanuts on here,” Jim indicates his tongue, “and I get very sick.” He brings his finger to Bones’ mouth and offers the caviar to him. Bones clasps Jim’s wrist and pulls it closer and swallows eagerly. Bones returns the favor, dipping a long finger in the pot and pushing the caviar into Jim’s mouth; the subtle taste, rich and silky has him chasing around his teeth with his tongue,”…and now,” Jim continues shakily, “each time,” he mimics the imaginary downward droop of Little Jim with his finger.” I sink my brain is confused. I am afraid I will become ill maybe and…” he shrugs, turns away, Bones’ look of non-judgmental sympathy making his heart swell then shrink with love and guilt.
“Pavel, look at me…”
Bones’ hand is on his knee, Jim should be coming in his pants at the warmth of those eyes, the softness of his lips, but he isn’t - he’s dead from the waist down. Be careful what you wish for, a mocking voice sounds in his head. “Yes?” he croaks, warring emotions twisting and tightening around his throat.
Bones dips his little finger into the pot and regards him through impossibly thick eyelashes, “Like I said - kissing’s good too…” He deposits the caviar on the tip of his own tongue and pulls Jim forward so they collapse on the couch and Jim can take it directly from him; it’s so perfect Jim’s considering that maybe sex is overrated - just being close feels like all he can want.
Their limbs tangle, hips pressed close, and though Jim can feel that Bones is hard as hell, he does nothing to draw attention to the fact. Bones keeps his hands above Jim’s waist, stroking his hair, kissing his ears and throat but never asking for more. It fucking kills him.
They make out for what seems like hours, talking between kisses, doing just what Bones suggested - getting to know each other. Bones tells Jim about his break up, about how he dropped out of med school. It wasn’t all down to Joss but had much to do with how he handled his dad’s death really badly. He tells Jim how Spock and Uhura found him singing in some sleazy bar in Andoria where he’d hidden out for months, unable to summon up the courage to take a flight home. How if it wasn’t for them he’d be living on the streets most likely, how they’re as good as family. Jim listens and he wants to share too, but he can’t, not tonight, not like this. Fortunately, Bones doesn’t seem to notice he’s doing the majority of the talking.
“We should get some air,” Bones says after a long comfortable silence. He’s lying with his head on Jim’s chest, fingers intertwined, as they watch the light change while dawn approaches.
They untangle, gather the glasses and bottle and place them in the washer and fridge respectively. They brush the crumbs off the couch, and Jim makes a silent promise to the real Chekov that one day he’ll pay him back for this night, for the things they’ve taken; somehow thank him for this time he’s spent with this incredible man.
They walk around the yacht hand in hand, pausing to watch the moons set . The lights are dimming in Risa and for the first time Jim wonders what Hikaru and the real Chekov have been doing all night. How the hell has his friend managed to keep the millionaire occupied for the hours they’ve been here? Heavy hearted he’s about to suggest they head back to shore when Bones says: “Hey, you haven’t shown me the bridge.”
“The bridge?” Jim knows this perfect night will soon be over so he welcomes the opportunity to eek out a little more time with Bones. “Ah, you mean ‘wheel room’ - is this way.”
It’s like a museum in there, polished brass nautical instruments, including a sextant and an order telegraph - Jim adjusts the lever reverently. “Bridge to keptin,” he says and Bones laughs. He slides his hands around Jim’s waist from behind, breath ghosting across his jaw.
“You look good on here,” he says tugging at Jim’s earlobe with his teeth leaving the skin moist and tingling. Jim leans into him but, overcome with curiosity, he unravels Bones’ arms and moves closer to examine the gauge on the pelorus. He fumbles for his reading glasses, puts them on, all the while holding onto Bones’ hand. The grip tightens, almost crushing his fingers. He looks at Bones concerned.
“Something wrong?”
Bones shakes his head, gnaws at his lip.His eyes are so fucking dark and gorgeous and there’s a little furrow between his thick eyebrows as he stares at Jim. “Nope.”
“You’ve…”
Bones tightens his grip even more and pulls Jim to face him and runs a finger down Jim’s nose. “I like glasses is all…” he practically growls sending a shudder through Jim.
“Oh.”
Jim had completely forgotten - but isn’t that why he brought his reading glasses along in the first place? He could have gotten away with squinting after all. His stomach flips in anxiety and he feels he needs to explain, even if it’s just for his own benefit. “I need them to read, I’m allergic to…”
“Retinax, yeah…” And before Jim can do anything about it, Bones is kissing him again, harder, more insistent than before, like he’s gonna fucking devour Jim whole, a hot tongue pushing past Jim’s teeth, fingers edging under Jim’s jacket. Jim lets out a strangled sound and allows Bones to guide his hands for him round to cup his ass. And as if what he wants isn’t clear enough, Bones grinds his hips against Jim, sucking hungrily on his tongue. Jim never wants the kiss to end though his guilt’s still got a stranglehold on Little Jim, meaning he’s dead below the waist. All he knows is he’s got to put a stop to this. He can do this, he really can, he thinks, fists kneading the muscles of Bones’ beautiful high ass, licking into his trusting, yielding mouth.
With perfect, perhaps cruel timing, the last track on Jim’s mix decides to fuck with his head:
***Through the Night***
I’m so nervous; don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Don’t know what I’m supposed to say
I love you…
Chests heaving as one, they pull apart and their eyes lock, the air between them practically crackling. Bones’ expression is surprisingly guarded, as if he’s weighing up whether to push Jim away or pull him closer, though his body is anything but unsure, the way he’s hips are rolling against Jim’s.
Damn, what the fuck is a man to do?
Perhaps sensing he’s wavering too, Bones helps Jim out. “Come here,” he whispers and hooks a finger under Jim’s glasses to ease them off his nose. Jim’s mouth falls open and he twists his hands into Bones’ shirt letting out a little sigh when Bones leans in and kisses his eyelids softly, first one, then the other. Bones allows them to fall back lop-sided, his eyes burning into Jim’s face.
The tenuous hold Jim has on his resolve, the determination to do the right thing and stop this now, tears apart under the heat of those hazel eyes, the sweet scent of his breath. He’s reminded of the cracking of ice under his boots when he sprinted across frozen lakes as a kid, how he used to ignore it, keep running, keep going.
Fuck it.
Jim stops damned well thinking and backs Bones roughly against the wheel.
He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, Bones with his legs splayed, hands gripping the wheel for support, his immaculate suit jacket falling open to reveal how his shirt appears to have lost a button in their tussling throughout the night. His hair’s a crazy mess, pointing in all directions making him look a little wild, eyebrow arched, waiting, daring Jim.
And Jim Kirk can never walk away from a dare - he’s covered in scars to prove it.
He reaches forward, trembling when Bones lets out a soft moan as he proceeds to unbutton the rest of the shirt, easing it aside to reveal the tanned, muscular chest he’s seen many times as Jemima but now he can touch, Bones wants him to touch.
Something unfamiliar but which refuses to be ignored squeezes around Jim’s heart and he closes his eyes reverently. His tongue trails along Bones’ collar bone, then he ducks to take a nipple in his mouth, worrying it with his teeth while holding Bones’ hands out of the way. He tastes clean, slightly salty, and male. And the noises he’s making, little groans and hisses of breath as Jim touches him, egg Jim on, his heart thudding in his ears, crowding out any words of protest from his conscience.
Bones leans his face into Jim’s ear, grumbling half-formed words of encouragement which Jim takes as a cue to drop his hands to his waist band and unfasten Bones’ fly. He sighs against warm skin, breathing deep to savor every last detail, every heartbeat and rise and fall of his chest, cheeks coloring in satisfaction when Bones becomes more vocal above him. Jim slides a thumb into the gap between waistband and skin, dragging a nail so slowly, enjoying how this has suddenly become all about the other man’s pleasure and nothing to do with his own.
He gazes at Bones, needing to check that this is still okay. Eyes as warm as autumn light, pupils dilated, he’s chewing on his lips, the skin pink and swollen as he watches Jim. Jim unzips him and reaches for hot flesh and Bones responds with a heated, “Yeah...” He’s hard, and fuck, his cock’s big, heavy as Jim pulls it free. Bones leans back, lets out a hiss of arousal and fumbles through Jim’s hair, tugging him closer.
Jim parts his lips and the fire he feels in his chest beats anything that could ever happen with Little Jim so, with no hesitation, Jim kneels between Bones’ feet and takes him in with a grateful moan. He works his mouth down slowly, teasingly until his nose and glasses bump against rough hairs. Bones reaches down and Jim feels him adjust the glasses. He smiles around the weight in his mouth, moans a little himself when Bones traces a finger around Jim’s lips, at the point where he’s stretched around velvet skin.
Feel so breathless as you dance around my mind
The thought of you sends me so high…
Completely overwhelmed, perhaps it’s the music, perhaps it’s the vodka but Jim finds himself mouthing the next line along the damp head,“…I love you...” He’s relieved Bones won’t know but he needs to say it, his cheeks burning with confusion at himself. He grips the base and angles it so he can lick a long stripe along Bones’ length, slow and leisurely his lips sliding easily across silken precome. He mixes it up with more deep sucking, saliva building on his chin, his free hand reaching for Bones’ balls to gently roll them between his fingers, wanting to make it good, needing to. Bones grips Jim’s hair and lets out one noisy breath after another, his teeth gleaming in the dawn light.
“That’s right…fuck…like that…”
Jim’s eyes fall shut and he breathes Bones in; he smells clean and male, making him feel heady, his chest warm, his skin glowing where his breath condenses on Bones stomach. He doesn’t want this to end, having every intention of winding Bones tighter and tighter and making this really good for him, but when he opens his eyes, looks up at Bones and their eyes meet, it’s as if something seems to break in the man. Bones grits his teeth, hand tugging roughly at Jim’s hair, then he tilts his chin up, thrusts erratically into the slick tunnel of Jim’s mouth, and comes with a choked cry.
Jim doesn’t let go, keeps milking him through it, taking every last drop into himself. He’s utterly lost in the moment, thinking this is the first time in his life he’s ever experienced ‘making love’ and how curious it doesn’t make him want to run a mile.
Eventually, Bones pushes him gently away and guides Jim to his feet to kiss him thoroughly.
“Hi,” he says softly into Jim’s cheek when they break apart to breath.
Jim feels like a condemned man, about to walk the last meter before his execution and it’s with great difficulty he manages to respond. “Hi yourself,” he manages finally, hoping Bones won’t have noticed his accent slip. They kiss again, unwilling for this night to be over, until Jim feels Bones sigh against him.
“I should get back, it’s late…early even.” Thankfully, there’s no ‘what about you?’
Bones holds Jim’s hand on the way back on the boat. They kiss one last time outside the hotel. “Thanks for a great night,” Bones says kissing Jim’s jaw and throat. Jim nods but can’t trust himself to speak, tugging Bones back for yet another kiss before he releases him.
Bones glances back before he disappears through the revolving doors, raising a hand then turning away. Jim feeling desperate and stranded, fights the impulse to chase after him and confess. Surely Bones would understand, if he told him about Nero, about how...but the words crumble like ashes and he rubs his forehead in exasperation when he remembers what Christine said about what happens if you lose his trust.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says under his breath.
Jim’s about to walk through the doors, then thinks it might make more sense to go back the way he came - he left the balcony open after all. As he rounds the back of the hotel he passes the ballroom where the three meter tall doors are open. The cleaning staff move about inside and music blares out even at this early hour.
***Hernando’s Hideaway***
He peeks in and does a spectacular double take when he spies two figures moving across the empty dance floor, dancing hip to hip, one hand each in the air shaking maracas in time with the music - Hikaru and the Russian.
Wow, Hik did good - the millionaire is absolutely, totally distracted. They look very cosy together, eyes locked as they traverse the floor and Hik is leading! He’s got a rose stem between his lips and making maximum use of his long black wig to toss his head dramatically. The Russian’s smitten, a goofy grin on his face, doe eyes shining and fixed on Hikaru’s face. His curls stick to his forehead, evidence they’ve literally danced the night away.
Looks like it’s four hearts Jim’s going to be responsible for breaking, all because he’s been a short-sighted douche. His face falls; the music suddenly sounds like the suicide music folk put on when sitting in a hotel room ready to say goodbye to the world - it’s cheerful and oblivious, and totally out of kilter with the pain he’s feeling.
He leaves them to their last moments of happiness and scales the vines to his balcony. Some fucking Romeo he is.
tbc, final part soon!
N.B. All thanks and notes etc, including links to the soundtrack mix, A03 link, as well as the movie poster are to found in the Zing! Masterlist! And additional thanks to weepingnaiad for technical advice on Jim’s hacking skills and other daft questions she’s answered with such good grace. I don’t know what I’d do without you, bb!
The first track in this part, You and the Night and The Music is blocked in the USA. It's the only link I could find with this version. Sorry. :( But it is available in the download.)
by norfolkdumpling
back to part 3
. Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! Part 4/5
Jim ejects the chip from his PADD and slips it into the coin pocket of the gray pinstripe; the chip holds his Awesome Music Mix of Love, all tracks lifted from the hotel’s data base and put together with Bones in mind. He heads for the balcony and clambers down the creepers. Checking the coast is clear, he jumps silently to the ground and jogs the short distance to the dock.
The air’s fragrant with tropical flowers; night birds and the Risan equivalent of crickets chirruping, the light silver and ethereal from the moons glowing against the charcoal, star studded canopy above. It’s a perfect night for romance and Jim feels like he’s in a movie.
Not wanting to appear too eager, as well as to give himself time to get into character, Jim slows to a walk when he spots an unmistakable figure sitting on the rails silhouetted against the harbor lights.
“Ahoy-there!” he calls out, instantly regretting how cheesy it sounds when Bones throws him a cynical look, one eye half closed as Jim swaggers up.
“You’re late,” Bones says, pushing off the rail and looking Jim up and down.
Well that’s not fair - Bones is also late. It was unavoidable since the band played two encores. After, while Bones shared out the Russian’s champagne with the rest of the girls, Jim slipped away complaining of a headache. It gave him time to shed the girl-disguise and take a quick shower. Still, Jim gets that this is Bones on the defensive, the soft, romantic, easily bruised core surrounded by a force field of snark. Bones has never sniped at Jemima, just the select few - like Spock. Jim wonders if he should feel flattered or worried.
“In that case I happy give you second apology of the day, but is not really necessary as I was watching you in the ballroom… you know is not possible to be in two places at once, yes-?“
Bones takes a moment to contemplate Jim’s best ‘come on, I’m awesome face’ and the side of his mouth quirks. “Touché,” he finally says folding his arms. “But take into account I didn’t see you in the ballroom.” Ah, so Bones was looking for him. This makes Jim’s heart dance a little.
“Was very crowded.”
“Sure was.”
There’s a tense silence and Bones’ eyes flicker towards the boats then back to Jim. Bones too has made the effort to get changed. He looks casually glamorous in a simple, single-breasted black silk suit and black dress shirt with miles of gorgeous, coffee colored neck exposed, and tantalizing glimpses of chest hair making Jim flush a little.
Jim runs his tongue over dry lips and offers his hand with a half bow. “We have not been formally introduced. I am Chekov, Pavel Andreivitch. I am your servant.” And that was a bordering on camp, Jim thinks.
There’s a beat while Bones regards the offered hand and he pulls his own out of a pocket to clasp Jim’s lightly. “Yeah, I know your name…”
His body language is non-committal, guarded, like he hasn’t decided whether to take up the invitation yet. But he’s here, right? Jim thinks - and the first step is always the hardest. So, rolling out the Kirk charm, because it’s never failed him yet, Jim guides the warm, elegant hand to his lips and kisses it like he’s been a gentleman all his life.
Maybe it’s too much because Bones backs away very slightly. On the other hand, the rising flush which seems to have reached the tip of Bones’ ears might indicate that the little gesture was precisely the right thing to do. Jim looks away to compose himself because he can’t help wondering what the hell else would make Bones blush like that. He feels a throb in his cock and looks up to catch dark eyes.
“Well, you sure are a gentleman of extremes…one minute rude, and now I see you’re choosing to find your manners.”
“This is true,” Jim says, bowing again. “I owe you apology. Please accept my deepest regret, Mr. McCoy, I was not myself this afternoon.”
“Assumin’ ‘yourself’ ain’t an ass-hole, sure, apology accepted.” Bones shoves his hands into his pockets. “And thanks for the champagne. That said, I’m not sure about supper, I gotta tell ya.” He wets his lips.
Jim scans his face and recognizes the tell tale signs of fear; just like on the ship, there’s a fine mist of perspiration on Bones’ nose as his eyes flicker repeatedly towards the yacht moored well away from the shore. It’s not that Bones is worried about breaking his vow of ‘celibacy’ again - it’s that he doesn’t want to risk the motor boat. Jim smiles to himself.
“If you will allow me to take you to the Enterprise, you will see that my hospitality will more than make up for doubt, Mr. McCoy. The sea is calm, and it is mere minutes to my yacht.” Jim lifts an arm to indicate they get going.
Bones considers this for a moment then appears to make a decision his voice irritable and drawly.
“Quit with the ‘mister’. I’m Len, okay?” He moves to the steps. “And what shall I call you, Chekov, Pavel Andreivitch? That’s some mouthful and I gotta save my voice for the show.”
“Pavel is good name,” Jim says, “and if you allow me to be your host? To make up for rudeness, perhaps then you will think of even better name for me?”
Niice, Jim thinks, very smooth.
“Hold your horses, mister, let’s see what you keep in your liquor cabinet before we start exchanging vows.” And there’s that killer smile - Jim suppresses a smirk and bows again.
“Of course. Now, if you will allow me, this is my boat - it take us to the Enterprise.” Jim reverses down the ladder first and holds the boat steady until Bones joins him. And there is no way that Jim’s checking out that fine ass when Bones turns his back. No way. Not now he’s a gentleman.
Jim inserts his chip into the dash then fiddles with the rope giving his code breaker time to infiltrate the computer’s system. He slips the old fashioned key in - the one he lifted from the Russian’s pocket earlier that day, and glances over his shoulder to see if Bones is settled yet - Jim can see a pulse in his cheek; the guy looks mighty worried but he’s holding it together so far.
Jim almost crows with delight when he hears: Good evening, Mr. Chekov.
He puts his glasses on quickly and peers at the screen - awesome - he’s retrieved the system's password although he doesn’t answer immediately to allow his Trojan to infiltrate and convert his voice to Chekov’s.
Jim turns to smile at Bones, and notes how his gaze lingers on Jim’s face. He indicates Bones sit down.
Jim removes his glasses and slides them into his breast pocket. The allergy to Retinax has never seemed like anything more than an inconvenience before, but now, the way Bones glances away - thank you spectacles of sexi-timez! He’s aware of white knuckles gleaming in the moonlight where Bones grips the side of the boat. Jim rests a reassuring hand on Bones’ knee; he doesn’t shrug off it off. Jim uploads his music mix and then taps the screen to fire up the boat while his first track plays:
***You and the Night and the Music***
Bones raises an eyebrow when he recognizes the intro but the smug grin jolts off Jim’s face immediately when the boat lunges backwards and heads out on auto-pilot. Jim recovers smoothly he thinks: “In Russia we prefer travelling backwards to ship - it is good luck.”
Bones rolls his eyes, “Well, I guess I’ve heard stranger things…”
You and the night and the music
Fill me with flaming desire
Setting my being completely on fire
You and the night and the music
Thrill me but will we be one
After the night and the music are done
Jim passes the five minutes it takes for the hover-boat to reach the Enterprise in contemplating Bones who turns to watch Risa’s lights. Jim takes in the strong jaw, the way his thick, shiny hair needs cutting and frays over perfect, sun-kissed ears. He wonders what it would feel like to drag his tongue along the chest hair where the shirt’s un-buttoned, or across the soft fullness of Bones’ lips. Jim takes little mental pictures of the shadow of stubble on his chin, the glide of his Adam’s apple as Bones tries to swallow down his fear, the smooth skin behind his ear, the place Jim knows that he if were to press his nose and inhale, that’s where he’d find Bones, the scent, the essence of this man.
“Real pretty,” Bones says, interrupting Jim’s little wander down the path of man-crush.
“I was thinking same,” Jim agrees, his voice a little husky and with half an ear on the lyrics:
If we must live for the moment
Love 'til the moment is through
After the night and the music die
Will I have you?
“We’re here,” Bones says, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline when the boat bumps to a stop against the side of the yacht. Damn, Jim should have been concentrating. “That a Russian tradition too?”
“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” Jim says truthfully, reaching for the ladder with damp palms. He ties the boat and allows Bones to go first, his long hands and legs moving easily till he can climb onto the narrow, teak deck.
“Is very beautiful, yes?” Jim says. The Enterprise looks so much better than he imagined. He has to stop himself doing a little bounce, remembering that luxury and success are Pavel’s, i.e. his way of life and temporarily, Jim isn’t the same man who sold his coat to make a few dimes. Nonchalant that’s it… deep breath…”My father have in family very long time.”
His accent’s slipping. Jim suspects he’s beginning to sound Danish or something, but if it’s true, Bones doesn’t appear to notice, too busy running long fingers over the polished wood and old style handles on the door to the cabin. Bones nods towards the shore where the resort lights twinkle gold and blue in the distance, the sound of laughter and music carried by the breeze towards them. “This place must be pretty private.”
Jim nods taking in all the details of their surroundings so that he doesn’t give himself away. First thing is booze, they need booze - champagne goggles will work in his favor. Here’s hoping the Russian’s got more than vodka on board.
As Bones leans on the rail and looks across the flat water, a warm off-shore breeze stirs his hair. The light from both moons picks out the white sand below the surface even at this depth. Everything is so fucking romantic and perfect that Jim’s itching to get going on their date properly. He waits till Bones isn’t looking and tries the door to below deck.
“You enjoy view, I return in one minute.”
Now that the computer’s at Jim’s beck and call, the security force field disabled even before they boarded, he’s free to roam. “Lights, twenty-five percent,” he whispers, pulling the door closed behind him. His mouth falls open at the cosy, opulent bachelor pad before him. He can still smell fresh paint, like it’s been newly spruced up just for Pavel’s eighteenth birthday. There’s a mixture of pieces from the past two centuries in expensive natural fabrics. It must have cost a fortune just to import the boat.
Jim rummages through a mini- fridge and locates a bottle of champagne, vodka and caviar, then searches a cupboard for something to go with it. Crackers - perfect!
He picks up two vodka glasses, made from finest Tellerite glass with a hint of blue, and rests them on the coffee table. He chooses a pair of champagne flutes and is just peeking in a cupboard to see what else might compliment their supper when a mountain of fishing equipment collapses on top of him, reels spooling and rods clattering around his feet. He curses a blue streak, shoves it all back haphazardly and knees the door shut collapsing against it panting when he hears:
“Hey, Pavel, you okay down there?”
“Yes, yes - I am here.” He fluffs up a couple of pillows on the enormous couch that takes up one entire wall of the cabin, and runs a finger along a shelf filled with antique books on one wall looking for that final touch. He settles for Captain Horatio Hornblower and throws it on the pillows.
“Rewind Awesome Music Mix of Love’” he instructs the computer, “track 3,” so that by the time he’s up on deck, bottle of champagne in one hand and glasses dangling upside down from the other, Norah Jones rings out softly behind them. It’s a gamble, but Jim’s dug deep into his soppy favorites for this night. He waits for a reaction, sure it’ll be a sneer.
Bones rests the glass on the rail and watches Jim pour, an impenetrable look on his face.
***I’ve got to see you again***
“You like this music?” Jim asks tentatively, wishing he had a hand free to wipe the sweat off his forehead - it’s possible he didn’t breathe the whole time he was down below. He raises his glass to chink with Bones’.
“Sure, I like the old stuff…” Bones’ lips purse over the rim of the glass. Raising his own, Jim bumps his teeth when he becomes transfixed at the tan column of Bones’ neck, watching worriedly as Bones downs the whole glass in one.
As if reading Jim’s mind, Bones quirks a grin, and holds his glass out for a refill. ”That one was for my nerves, I’m slowin’ right down now...” An eyebrow raise and Bones adds, “after this one right here.” Jim pours and the bubbles fizz over Bones’ knuckles.
“Sorry--” But it’s a lie. Jim isn’t in the slightest bit sorry, not now he gets to watch Bones lick the spilled champagne off steady fingers, plush lips forcing Jim to take a steadying breath.
Jim takes a tentative half step closer and tops up his own glass. “Is very dry, extra sec, to prepare your tongue.“
Their hands rest on the rail side by side, their finger tips so close. They glance down at the same time, and when Jim looks up again, Bones is holding his gaze, pupils dilated thanks to the champagne buzz.
“Prepare my tongue for what?” he drawls, “Should I be excited?”
His fingers move so, so slightly, deliberately along the rail towards Jim’s; the sudden shift in the power dynamic making Jim feel a little light-headed. His finger tips tease against Jim’s sending little electric shocks through him.
Heart hammering, Jim turns away and indicates the door to below deck. “I have more to tempt you below, but first let us enjoy the view and listen to the music.” He tops up Bones' glass again and leans on the rail with him, watching his nostrils flare very slightly when the bubbles tickle.
“I have not brought anyone here before,” Jim says. Well that’s the truth at least.
“The hell you haven’t.“ Bones has become more mellow, less guarded with each sip and Jim’s noticed hazel eyes lingering a little longer on his face, trailing down to his lips.
“And we’re alone? No hidden army of slaves down in the engine room?” Bones takes the bottle from him, making Jim start, and the little brush of their hands sends another spark through him.
“I gave the stewart ze night off. Is just you and me, Leonard.”
Bones rests his glass and the bottle on the deck, then takes Jim’s glass and drains it. He looks directly into Jim’s eyes, the air heavy between them. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Pavel?” Jim watches dumbly when Bones adds his glass to the collection on the boards then steps between Jim’s feet and crowds him against the rail. He’s so close Jim can smell the intoxicating fruit of the champagne on his breath.
“I sink it is you getting you drunk,” Jim manages.
Bones chuckles at that. “Really now…?” He leans in and Jim swallows when a strong hand slides to the back of his neck, fingers cool from the bottle. Jim can feel sweet, hot breath puff against his mouth. Bones is going to kiss him, it’s what he’s dreamed of since first casting eyes on him, but...“I jus’ need to check one more thing…” Bones whispers close to his ear.
“Uh-huh?”
“Please tell me you ain’t a sax player…”
And this, this is what makes Jim’s stomach flip. Fuck, he can’t go through with this - it’s wrong on so many levels; what a time for his conscience to rear it’s unwanted head. He decides then the best thing is to have a few drinks, no making out, so the date’s a date, but he won’t be guilty of taking advantage of Bones, of lying to him. It’s just that those lips are so fucking tempting and Christ he smells so good...maybe just one...
It’s with supreme effort of will that Jim splays his hand on Bones’ chest and pushes him away a little. “I have to make a warning -“
Bones frowns. “Warning? What? Do you have cooties or something? You must have had your shots, they don’t let anyone off planet who’s not immunized…”
“Yes, I mean, no, and of course I have shots…” a second hand, this time bunching Jim’s shirt. Fuck, fuck, fuck…what can he say? I’ve lied to you, I’m in love with you, I…I’m sorry?
“I have a condition-“ Jim blurts out.
“-what kind of a condition?” His lips are millimeters away.
“I cannot become aroused, nothing works, not the kissing, not touching, not...umph...”
It’s too late. Jim’s legs almost buckle when Bones kisses him. He can see now why Bones took the breakables away - his champagne tinged tongue pushed in without hesitation. It sweeps across Jim’s, a rough chin scraping against his, fingers tightening their hold in the short hairs at Jim’s neck. His eyes fall shut and he curses the stupid lie because just this, the smell of him, those soft, dark lips insistent and yielding all at once make Jim so hard, if Bones were to touch him, he’d know. And Jim wants to touch, to be touched so bad; despite wanting to do the right thing, he can’t seem to stop.
Jim goes into over-drive and with the warm fragrant breeze caressing them, the gentle rocking of the boat adding to the mood, he throws caution aside and gives as good as he gets. He wraps an arm around Bones and guides him closer, tilting his head for better access - if this is going to be their one and only night together, he wants to make the most of it so he can memorize every detail. He wants to be Cinderella at the ball, conscience be damned, for he’ll get his come-uppance when he returns his costume later. For now, he’s got to do this or he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He tries hard to not think about what Bones would think of the real Jim who’s a loser, a wanderer with no morals and no integrity - who’s fucking lied to him. As their tongues war and arms wind around each other, Jim vows that whatever happens, he won’t let things heat up any more than they have. A few more kisses, a couple of drinks and then he’ll take Bones back and no harm done.
They break apart after an eternity. Mouth swollen and slick, Bones looks questioningly into Jim’s eyes. “So...” he says, panting a little, while he runs a thumb across Jim’s lower lip. He leans in and whispers into Jim’s ear, “no ‘arousal’?”
Drunk on more than just champagne, it’s with great difficulty Jim manages to shake his head. “Yes, is pleasant, but no, I feel nothing more than warm tongue.”
Bones draws his eyebrows together. “Maybe we’re doin’ it wrong?”
“I don’t sink so…”
“But you felt… nothing?” Bones takes a second to process this then pulls away, runs his hand through his hair, and shakes his head. “We’re rushing things, we’ll go below, get to know each other.”
Fuck, he’s such a god damned gentleman. Jim forces a smile and moves to the door, bows so Bones goes down the steps first giving Jim an opportunity to adjust himself because this might be one lie too far - his cock’s threatening to break free of it’s own accord if Jim doesn’t help it out.
“Real cosy,” Bones is saying and he turns a half circle. “What business are you in?”
“Dilithium crystals - transportation, is big money.” Jim’s researched the Chekovs, so no lie there at least - still he’s going to have to steer the conversation away from potentially tricky topics. “Please sit, let us not talk of such…”
“…boring ass crap?” Bones chuckles, “Sure thing.”
Bones slouches on the couch, legs falling apart and his eyes never leave Jim while he moves about the small space. Jim rummages in the freezer compartment and draws a long breath to calm himself. He takes out the slim bottle of Lordanov Vodka. The Russian won’t miss it, even though it’s worth more than the entire band will earn in the three weeks combined.
“Ah, I forget, we must stand to drink wodka.”
“Is this what you’ve preparing my tongue for?” Bones points at the bottle.
“Also this…” Jim waves his hand across the caviar and the salt crackers. “Now stand, please.”
“Damn you’re bossy…” Bones gets to his feet again and moves towards Jim who’s busy pouring out two shots. His skin prickles when Bones leans close to look at the label.
“We must toast and Russian tradition is you put glass down only when wodka gone.”
“All of it?” Bones looks worried, his eyebrows drawing together.
Jim smiles - damn he’s adorable. “Just in glass. Okay - I make toast first!” He holds up the shot and tries to remember the few words of Russian he knows, curiously enough all linked to alcohol.
“ Za zdroveye!” he says and knocks back his drink then slams the glass on the table.
Bones narrows his eyes, looks at Jim’s mouth. “Come again?”
Jim repeats the toast and tries not to stare too hungrily at Bones’ lips when they curl around the unfamiliar sounds.
Bones knocks the shot back and puffs out a noisy breath staring at Jim wide eyed and not a little impressed. “Fuck!”
“Is good?”
Bones clears his throat then tilts his head playfully all dimples and gleaming eyes. “Not sure, I need to try again. What… did you say, anyways?”
“To health!” Jim explains briskly and knocks back a second glass.
Bones looks alarmed but follows suit. Their glasses thunk on the table top. Once his face has returned to normal Bones says, “Must be my turn to toast?”
Jim nods and refills both their glasses.
“To music!” Bones announces with a grin.
“Yes! To music!”
They slam their glasses down and Jim bends to refill them. He notices Bones is beginning to sway very slightly so, “Last toast!” he announces. He only gives Bones a thimble full this time, and Jim puts an arm around him for support. Raising his glass he says quietly, “zalyoobof!”
Bones regards him with lidded eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his face looming suddenly very near.
Jim’s heart is pounding. “To love…” he explains softly.
“Amen to that.” Bones tips back his vodka then unexpectedly pushes his mouth against Jim’s, allowing the sharp liquid to spill across Jim’s tongue. He gasps, swallows, the tingle in Jim’s throat and gut and the back of his eyelids only partly due to the booze he knows.
They kiss long and slow standing arms wrapped around each other, vodka chilled tongues rolling gently, and finally warming against each others; Bones’ mouth pliant and trusting against his. But Jim needs to put the brakes on, he promised himself. When he tries to speak, Bones gets the hint and pulls away a little to give him room. Finally, Jim’s able to utter words he never thought he’d say until way past his hundredth birthday:
“I must remind you, I will not be able to maintain erection.”
“That’s okay…I like kissing…” Bones sweeps his tongue across Jim’s bottom lip.
While it feels, tastes amazing, his cheeks burning, his senses in override, for once Jim’s telling the truth. The irony is that Jim’s lie has bitten him on the ass. Each little touch and kiss has turned Jim inside out till he knows that one thing he doesn’t want to, mustn’t do is hurt Bones. Too much thinking about consequences equals too much blood in the brain with zero left to travel south. Fuck. He really can’t get hard.
Bones must notice how Jim’s face falls because he takes his hand and pulls Jim to the couch so they’re both sitting on the edge. “Come on, Pavel, tell me - I’m a good listener.”
Jim shakes his head, searches around in his booze-addled brain for something he can explain this away with, a plausible reason for his impotence: an injury, a shock? Better if it’s based in truth. He glances at the crackers on the table and remembers how he examined the label earlier.
“I have many allergies - not to wodka,” he forces a chuckle, “but milk, mustard seeds, peanuts… also other things…” he reaches for the gold pot of caviar and pushes his finger into the the pea sized gray eggs. “Once was making love and I kiss boy. He have peanuts on here,” Jim indicates his tongue, “and I get very sick.” He brings his finger to Bones’ mouth and offers the caviar to him. Bones clasps Jim’s wrist and pulls it closer and swallows eagerly. Bones returns the favor, dipping a long finger in the pot and pushing the caviar into Jim’s mouth; the subtle taste, rich and silky has him chasing around his teeth with his tongue,”…and now,” Jim continues shakily, “each time,” he mimics the imaginary downward droop of Little Jim with his finger.” I sink my brain is confused. I am afraid I will become ill maybe and…” he shrugs, turns away, Bones’ look of non-judgmental sympathy making his heart swell then shrink with love and guilt.
“Pavel, look at me…”
Bones’ hand is on his knee, Jim should be coming in his pants at the warmth of those eyes, the softness of his lips, but he isn’t - he’s dead from the waist down. Be careful what you wish for, a mocking voice sounds in his head. “Yes?” he croaks, warring emotions twisting and tightening around his throat.
Bones dips his little finger into the pot and regards him through impossibly thick eyelashes, “Like I said - kissing’s good too…” He deposits the caviar on the tip of his own tongue and pulls Jim forward so they collapse on the couch and Jim can take it directly from him; it’s so perfect Jim’s considering that maybe sex is overrated - just being close feels like all he can want.
Their limbs tangle, hips pressed close, and though Jim can feel that Bones is hard as hell, he does nothing to draw attention to the fact. Bones keeps his hands above Jim’s waist, stroking his hair, kissing his ears and throat but never asking for more. It fucking kills him.
They make out for what seems like hours, talking between kisses, doing just what Bones suggested - getting to know each other. Bones tells Jim about his break up, about how he dropped out of med school. It wasn’t all down to Joss but had much to do with how he handled his dad’s death really badly. He tells Jim how Spock and Uhura found him singing in some sleazy bar in Andoria where he’d hidden out for months, unable to summon up the courage to take a flight home. How if it wasn’t for them he’d be living on the streets most likely, how they’re as good as family. Jim listens and he wants to share too, but he can’t, not tonight, not like this. Fortunately, Bones doesn’t seem to notice he’s doing the majority of the talking.
“We should get some air,” Bones says after a long comfortable silence. He’s lying with his head on Jim’s chest, fingers intertwined, as they watch the light change while dawn approaches.
They untangle, gather the glasses and bottle and place them in the washer and fridge respectively. They brush the crumbs off the couch, and Jim makes a silent promise to the real Chekov that one day he’ll pay him back for this night, for the things they’ve taken; somehow thank him for this time he’s spent with this incredible man.
They walk around the yacht hand in hand, pausing to watch the moons set . The lights are dimming in Risa and for the first time Jim wonders what Hikaru and the real Chekov have been doing all night. How the hell has his friend managed to keep the millionaire occupied for the hours they’ve been here? Heavy hearted he’s about to suggest they head back to shore when Bones says: “Hey, you haven’t shown me the bridge.”
“The bridge?” Jim knows this perfect night will soon be over so he welcomes the opportunity to eek out a little more time with Bones. “Ah, you mean ‘wheel room’ - is this way.”
It’s like a museum in there, polished brass nautical instruments, including a sextant and an order telegraph - Jim adjusts the lever reverently. “Bridge to keptin,” he says and Bones laughs. He slides his hands around Jim’s waist from behind, breath ghosting across his jaw.
“You look good on here,” he says tugging at Jim’s earlobe with his teeth leaving the skin moist and tingling. Jim leans into him but, overcome with curiosity, he unravels Bones’ arms and moves closer to examine the gauge on the pelorus. He fumbles for his reading glasses, puts them on, all the while holding onto Bones’ hand. The grip tightens, almost crushing his fingers. He looks at Bones concerned.
“Something wrong?”
Bones shakes his head, gnaws at his lip.His eyes are so fucking dark and gorgeous and there’s a little furrow between his thick eyebrows as he stares at Jim. “Nope.”
“You’ve…”
Bones tightens his grip even more and pulls Jim to face him and runs a finger down Jim’s nose. “I like glasses is all…” he practically growls sending a shudder through Jim.
“Oh.”
Jim had completely forgotten - but isn’t that why he brought his reading glasses along in the first place? He could have gotten away with squinting after all. His stomach flips in anxiety and he feels he needs to explain, even if it’s just for his own benefit. “I need them to read, I’m allergic to…”
“Retinax, yeah…” And before Jim can do anything about it, Bones is kissing him again, harder, more insistent than before, like he’s gonna fucking devour Jim whole, a hot tongue pushing past Jim’s teeth, fingers edging under Jim’s jacket. Jim lets out a strangled sound and allows Bones to guide his hands for him round to cup his ass. And as if what he wants isn’t clear enough, Bones grinds his hips against Jim, sucking hungrily on his tongue. Jim never wants the kiss to end though his guilt’s still got a stranglehold on Little Jim, meaning he’s dead below the waist. All he knows is he’s got to put a stop to this. He can do this, he really can, he thinks, fists kneading the muscles of Bones’ beautiful high ass, licking into his trusting, yielding mouth.
With perfect, perhaps cruel timing, the last track on Jim’s mix decides to fuck with his head:
***Through the Night***
I’m so nervous; don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Don’t know what I’m supposed to say
I love you…
Chests heaving as one, they pull apart and their eyes lock, the air between them practically crackling. Bones’ expression is surprisingly guarded, as if he’s weighing up whether to push Jim away or pull him closer, though his body is anything but unsure, the way he’s hips are rolling against Jim’s.
Damn, what the fuck is a man to do?
Perhaps sensing he’s wavering too, Bones helps Jim out. “Come here,” he whispers and hooks a finger under Jim’s glasses to ease them off his nose. Jim’s mouth falls open and he twists his hands into Bones’ shirt letting out a little sigh when Bones leans in and kisses his eyelids softly, first one, then the other. Bones allows them to fall back lop-sided, his eyes burning into Jim’s face.
The tenuous hold Jim has on his resolve, the determination to do the right thing and stop this now, tears apart under the heat of those hazel eyes, the sweet scent of his breath. He’s reminded of the cracking of ice under his boots when he sprinted across frozen lakes as a kid, how he used to ignore it, keep running, keep going.
Fuck it.
Jim stops damned well thinking and backs Bones roughly against the wheel.
He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, Bones with his legs splayed, hands gripping the wheel for support, his immaculate suit jacket falling open to reveal how his shirt appears to have lost a button in their tussling throughout the night. His hair’s a crazy mess, pointing in all directions making him look a little wild, eyebrow arched, waiting, daring Jim.
And Jim Kirk can never walk away from a dare - he’s covered in scars to prove it.
He reaches forward, trembling when Bones lets out a soft moan as he proceeds to unbutton the rest of the shirt, easing it aside to reveal the tanned, muscular chest he’s seen many times as Jemima but now he can touch, Bones wants him to touch.
Something unfamiliar but which refuses to be ignored squeezes around Jim’s heart and he closes his eyes reverently. His tongue trails along Bones’ collar bone, then he ducks to take a nipple in his mouth, worrying it with his teeth while holding Bones’ hands out of the way. He tastes clean, slightly salty, and male. And the noises he’s making, little groans and hisses of breath as Jim touches him, egg Jim on, his heart thudding in his ears, crowding out any words of protest from his conscience.
Bones leans his face into Jim’s ear, grumbling half-formed words of encouragement which Jim takes as a cue to drop his hands to his waist band and unfasten Bones’ fly. He sighs against warm skin, breathing deep to savor every last detail, every heartbeat and rise and fall of his chest, cheeks coloring in satisfaction when Bones becomes more vocal above him. Jim slides a thumb into the gap between waistband and skin, dragging a nail so slowly, enjoying how this has suddenly become all about the other man’s pleasure and nothing to do with his own.
He gazes at Bones, needing to check that this is still okay. Eyes as warm as autumn light, pupils dilated, he’s chewing on his lips, the skin pink and swollen as he watches Jim. Jim unzips him and reaches for hot flesh and Bones responds with a heated, “Yeah...” He’s hard, and fuck, his cock’s big, heavy as Jim pulls it free. Bones leans back, lets out a hiss of arousal and fumbles through Jim’s hair, tugging him closer.
Jim parts his lips and the fire he feels in his chest beats anything that could ever happen with Little Jim so, with no hesitation, Jim kneels between Bones’ feet and takes him in with a grateful moan. He works his mouth down slowly, teasingly until his nose and glasses bump against rough hairs. Bones reaches down and Jim feels him adjust the glasses. He smiles around the weight in his mouth, moans a little himself when Bones traces a finger around Jim’s lips, at the point where he’s stretched around velvet skin.
Feel so breathless as you dance around my mind
The thought of you sends me so high…
Completely overwhelmed, perhaps it’s the music, perhaps it’s the vodka but Jim finds himself mouthing the next line along the damp head,“…I love you...” He’s relieved Bones won’t know but he needs to say it, his cheeks burning with confusion at himself. He grips the base and angles it so he can lick a long stripe along Bones’ length, slow and leisurely his lips sliding easily across silken precome. He mixes it up with more deep sucking, saliva building on his chin, his free hand reaching for Bones’ balls to gently roll them between his fingers, wanting to make it good, needing to. Bones grips Jim’s hair and lets out one noisy breath after another, his teeth gleaming in the dawn light.
“That’s right…fuck…like that…”
Jim’s eyes fall shut and he breathes Bones in; he smells clean and male, making him feel heady, his chest warm, his skin glowing where his breath condenses on Bones stomach. He doesn’t want this to end, having every intention of winding Bones tighter and tighter and making this really good for him, but when he opens his eyes, looks up at Bones and their eyes meet, it’s as if something seems to break in the man. Bones grits his teeth, hand tugging roughly at Jim’s hair, then he tilts his chin up, thrusts erratically into the slick tunnel of Jim’s mouth, and comes with a choked cry.
Jim doesn’t let go, keeps milking him through it, taking every last drop into himself. He’s utterly lost in the moment, thinking this is the first time in his life he’s ever experienced ‘making love’ and how curious it doesn’t make him want to run a mile.
Eventually, Bones pushes him gently away and guides Jim to his feet to kiss him thoroughly.
“Hi,” he says softly into Jim’s cheek when they break apart to breath.
Jim feels like a condemned man, about to walk the last meter before his execution and it’s with great difficulty he manages to respond. “Hi yourself,” he manages finally, hoping Bones won’t have noticed his accent slip. They kiss again, unwilling for this night to be over, until Jim feels Bones sigh against him.
“I should get back, it’s late…early even.” Thankfully, there’s no ‘what about you?’
Bones holds Jim’s hand on the way back on the boat. They kiss one last time outside the hotel. “Thanks for a great night,” Bones says kissing Jim’s jaw and throat. Jim nods but can’t trust himself to speak, tugging Bones back for yet another kiss before he releases him.
Bones glances back before he disappears through the revolving doors, raising a hand then turning away. Jim feeling desperate and stranded, fights the impulse to chase after him and confess. Surely Bones would understand, if he told him about Nero, about how...but the words crumble like ashes and he rubs his forehead in exasperation when he remembers what Christine said about what happens if you lose his trust.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says under his breath.
Jim’s about to walk through the doors, then thinks it might make more sense to go back the way he came - he left the balcony open after all. As he rounds the back of the hotel he passes the ballroom where the three meter tall doors are open. The cleaning staff move about inside and music blares out even at this early hour.
***Hernando’s Hideaway***
He peeks in and does a spectacular double take when he spies two figures moving across the empty dance floor, dancing hip to hip, one hand each in the air shaking maracas in time with the music - Hikaru and the Russian.
Wow, Hik did good - the millionaire is absolutely, totally distracted. They look very cosy together, eyes locked as they traverse the floor and Hik is leading! He’s got a rose stem between his lips and making maximum use of his long black wig to toss his head dramatically. The Russian’s smitten, a goofy grin on his face, doe eyes shining and fixed on Hikaru’s face. His curls stick to his forehead, evidence they’ve literally danced the night away.
Looks like it’s four hearts Jim’s going to be responsible for breaking, all because he’s been a short-sighted douche. His face falls; the music suddenly sounds like the suicide music folk put on when sitting in a hotel room ready to say goodbye to the world - it’s cheerful and oblivious, and totally out of kilter with the pain he’s feeling.
He leaves them to their last moments of happiness and scales the vines to his balcony. Some fucking Romeo he is.
tbc, final part soon!