FIC: Alternating Currents
Title: Alternating Currents
Pairing: always!a!girl!mirror!McCoy/always!a!girl!mirror!Kirk/always!a!girl!nu!Kirk
Word Count: 3500
Rating: NC-17
Summary: She was their prisoner. They were well within their rights, as established by Fleet regulations, to do whatever they wanted to with her. Jane could go either direction - they’d peeled the clothes off of some of their prisoners, almost always eager to please the Empire’s golden captain, almost always disappointed when their cocks weren’t enough to make her come. They’d peeled the skin off of others.
Warnings: Do I have to warn for femslash? Threesomes? Mirror universe references to cruelty?
Notes: This is from a prompt by rubynye. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, BB. Many thanks to circ_bamboo for cheerleading and general feedback.
***
The woman beside her gave Dr. Lenore Honor McCoy, CMO of the Enterprise and personal physician to its captain, a side-eyed glare; the captain had recovered quickly. "I think you enjoyed ordering them to shoot me." Jane Kirk rubbed at her shoulder - Lenore had already given her the mild pain killer she'd allow; Jane probably wasn't actually in pain. "What's your theory?" The captain didn’t bother to whisper - the nurses knew better than to repeat anything they overheard, and it was Chapel on duty anyway - the woman with the scar on her face was silent as a tomb.
Lenore would know - she’d been the one to cut Chapel’s tongue out. The doctor returned the glare. Jane Kirk was the youngest captain in the Fleet. She was also only the second woman to hold on to her command for any significant length of time. The first, the enigmatic One, had been Pike's first officer before he'd promoted her and put her on the Intrepid in the middle of a squabble with some Klingons. The Empire had honored the battlefield promotion. Sometimes Lenore thought that was one reason Jane hadn't killed the newly-promoted Admiral outright when she'd had the chance. Though there was the occasional bit of tenderness between Jane and her sexy father figure.
Their prisoner was pale and still on the bio bed. The transporter room guards had done their job, stunning the two nearly identical figures as soon as Lenore had barked the order. Both blonde women had crumpled to the floor.
"Did some research. Ion storm could have split you into two halves of yourself, two manifestations of your personality." The article had discussed a hypothetical situation in which people could be separated into their good and evil selves. Lenore had laughed. Morality didn't mean much in the way to Jane. "Ruled that out while you were still unconscious." The more readings she'd had to work with, the more interesting Lenore's findings had been. "Think she's from another universe. Some sort of alternate track."
That would explain the uniform, after all. The figure on the bed wore pants, made of a study material, and a long-sleeved gold shirt with a black undershirt. It was... serviceable? It seemed utilitarian, something an office worker would wear. Lenore's Kirk wore a short black skirt with pockets, tall black boots with flat soles for running and kicking and fighting. Her gold undershirt fit tightly under the form-fitting black leather vest that had slowed more than one knife attack. Her hair was cropped short, revealed and highlighted the scar on her neck.
It really hadn't been that difficult to tell the two of them apart.
"When's she going to wake up?" There was something in Jane's question, some curiosity that meant she was going to want to poke at this woman, figure out what made her who she was - how the two of them were similar and how they were different. Jane liked to take things apart.
Lenore liked seeing how things looked on the inside. And it was interesting to try to put them back together again afterwards. She shifted her weight on her feet, eased closer into Jane's personal space. "No good reason for her not to be awake right now. My guess? She's not used to shaking off the stun." That implied certain things about her universe of origin. Implied certain things about how she might respond to being played with.
Jane's grin was wicked. And Lenore smiled back. If she'd actually thrown up on the disheveled cadet all those years ago, on that bumpy shuttle flight to San Francisco, maybe they wouldn't have been such fast friends. But Lenore's stomach had settled around the same Jane had joined her in the tiny bathroom and fingered her to a very surprising orgasm. It had been a welcome to the Fleet indeed.
A warning beep from the bio bed signaled that its occupant was finally waking up. Jane leaned over, fast and precise, to deliver a promising bite to Lenore's bottom lip - then she was pushing away from the wall they'd leaned against, nearly shoulder to shoulder, and ambling - there was no other word for it - to the other Kirk's bedside.
"You can't fake unconsciousness in this Sickbay, hotpants." Jane studied her short fingernails, painted a bright cherry red, until blue, blue eyes trembled open and met her curiosity with their own thirst for inquiry.
Oh, it was going to be good. Lenore moved to the other side of the bed. She'd already taken note of the readings but she scanned this other Kirk again anyway. "Do you have a name?"
The grin that widened across the pale face was weak but familiar. "Kirk. Captain Jamie Kirk of the star ship Enterprise." The woman's readings were stabilizing quickly. She tried again, and this time her smile conveyed charm and strength in equal measure. "I have to say, you both look very familiar." The blue eyes squinted and surveyed Lenore. "Though my Bones has much longer hair."
Bones. Lenore and Jane traded a look before Lenore dropped her gaze. She could feel a flush over her cheeks - and a nearly Pavlovian response between her thighs. Jane had started calling her Bones their second semester at the Academy. Both because she'd repaired several for Kirk and because she'd broken so many; eventually, the other cadets learned not to touch the surly doctor from Georgia, no matter how generous they thought her ass was.
"I cut it. Too easy to grab." Lenore surprised herself. And, from the arch of Jane's eyebrow, Lenore wasn't the only one wondering why she'd opened her mouth.
"Listen, I'm sure you're busy people," Jamie Kirk stopped talking when Lenore put her hand over the mobile pink mouth. The quick press of a tongue against the skin of her palm made her cock her head.
"You're not scared." Jane wasn't asking - and she sounded pleased. Lenore sighed. It would do things to Jane's ego if this Kirk was just as brash and reckless and goddamn brilliant as she was.
Lenore checked the readings again. "Slightly elevated heart rate - at least, it's elevated from your baseline. That might be off, but I doubt by much." She moved her hand enough to cover the other Kirk's nostrils as well as her mouth, cut off her air just a little. "Might be fear." The monitor beeped faster. "Might be something else."
Jane came back from skirmishes damp and aching, eager to fuck Lenore with any number of toys. If this Kirk was anything like that.... It might wind up worth dealing with Jane's ego after the fact.
Another press of that tongue and a slight shake of Jamie Kirk's head. Lenore pulled her hand back. "Something like this happened five months ago, ion storm over Strenta VI." Jamie looked between the two women standing over her. “Thought they were going to torture me. We fucked all night instead." The cream-and-sugar satisfaction in her voice was also familiar to Lenore.
She was their prisoner. They were well within their rights, as established by Fleet regulations, to do whatever they wanted to with her. Jane could go either direction - they’d peeled the clothes off of some of their prisoners, almost always eager to please the Empire’s golden captain, almost always disappointed when their cocks weren’t enough to make her come. They’d peeled the skin off of others.
If Lenore were a betting woman, though, she’d bet where this one was going to end up: tied to Kirk’s nonregulation bedpost, naked and glistening.
“Did you now?” There was Jane’s interest, signaled with nothing more than an inflection of pleasure. “And what makes you think we won’t go the torture route?” Lenore was interested in that answer herself.
Jamie Kirk had long hair. It tumbled forward over her shoulders as she propped herself up on her elbows, thick and wavy; Jamie shook her head to keep it out of her face. “Well, if you’re anything like me, you think it’d be foolish to pass up a chance for some… very complicated masturbation.” Her lashes glinted in Sickbay’s bright white lights when she lowered them, looked back up through them, coy and almost demure. “Don’t you want to know if you’re as good as I am?”
It was possible that Kirks were the same in every universe. Lenore groaned but Jane laughed, threw her head back and laughed with the genuine amusement that always worried her crew. The order was as close to inevitable as anything ever was on the Enterprise. Jane smirked at Jamie. “Kirk to Security. I need an armed escort in Sickbay.”
An armed escort meant Jane didn’t trust Jamie - it was wise never to trust a Kirk, Lenore knew first hand - but that it wasn’t going to stop her from stepping up the challenge implicit in Jamie’s frank and assessing gaze.
Lenore caught Chapel’s attention - the nurse nodded without needing explanation. She’d been a chatterbox, not an idiot. And she was a damn fine nurse. Lenore smiled her approval, then returned her attention to her captain. “M’Benga’ll be in soon. I’m ready to cut out if you are.”
***
The journey to Jane’s quarters - Lenore’s quarters, too, for all intents and purposes - had been uneventful. Enough crew members had seen them parading the captive at phaser point that rumors would circulate efficiently. Captain Jane Kirk and her ravenous impulses - Jane’s sex life was almost more famous than she was. The reputation was deserved.
“Am I boring you?” Jamie’s voice, if Lenore closed her eyes, was the same. It wasn’t the time for that sort of rumination, though - Lenore opened her own hazel eyes and met two blue gazes. Lenore had situated herself in the desk chair to watch and Jane had... It wasn't in Jane to hesitate but she didn't always rush in without a plan - Jane stayed at Lenore's side and looked down at her. Jamie knelt in the center of the bed, watching them together. Jane had ordered Jamie to strip as soon as the door had closed behind the exiting redshirts, and their prisoner - their guest for the moment - had complied with languid grace. She was lithe, sleek where Jane had more muscle mass, more strength earned in combat and through hard work at the gym. No tan lines - the even golden hue of her skin spoke of shore leaves somewhere in the sun. Maybe there had been obliging servants, slaves bringing drinks with umbrellas in them. She wore no scars.
It seemed redundant to note that she was beautiful.
“Just thinking.” It was her best and worst habit. Lenore settled more comfortably into her chair. “Just thinking I’d like to watch you both - it’s like mirrors.” Not true reflections, the women were too distinct even with identical features, but both of them mirrors showing other possibilities.
Jamie and Jane laughed, a beat apart. "You're a poet, Bones." Jane's grin was wry, but her mouth was welcoming when she leaned down to give Lenore a kiss. They'd been inseparable since that first shuttle ride - a new body between them now, Jane's teeth and tongue assured Lenore, wasn't going to keep them apart for long. Tension she hadn't even realized she carried in her shoulders relaxed - Lenore smiled into the kiss. She didn't need words for Jane to get the message: perhaps Lenore would be the one in the middle, actually.
"Doctor's orders, Captain," Lenore's voice turned gravelly in the bedroom. "I think it's time for you to go to bed."
Another bite to Lenore's mouth - there were days she spent mostly tasting of blood from Jane's enthusiasm - and Jane moved to the bed, unfastening the laces of her vest as she went.
The ankle boots Lenore favored were easy to kick off. She loosened the laces of her own vest, but didn't take it off. She couldn't bring herself to use Jamie's name - it seemed too intimate. But that didn't stop her from issuing direction. "Leave her boots on."
At least the other Kirk could take orders. Jamie moved to meet Jane, pushed hands aside to take over the job of unlacing and loosening. Jamie leaned forward, rubbed her small breasts, pert and tipped with sweet coral nipples - across the leather before peeling it off over Jane’s shoulders. They moved cooperatively, swayed and bent to pull the rest of Jane’s clothing off. Everything but her boots until Jane was sprawled on her back, arched and space pale under Jamie’s exploratory hand.
Jane’s body was familiar; Lenore knew it as a physician and a lover - Jane’s left shoulder tended to dislocate; it was bulky with more muscle than the women of the court thought strictly appropriate. Her right side was peppered with burn scars, perfect shiny round circles, just the size of illegal cigarettes. The Kirk family crest curled over her hip, red and yellow flourishes of color that were still bright, despite the age of the tattoo. Jane tangled their legs together, rolled her head to look at Lenore. “Was that all you wanted to see?”
Lenore’s own vest was easy to shrug out of - she grasped the hem of her blue undershirt and pulled it over her head. She rubbed a shoulder against the fabric of Jane’s chair, just to feel the rough texture of it. Lenore cupped her breasts, still in her bra, and considered. “Did you need me to tell you? I thought you’d know what to do, what with you playing with yourself and all.” Taking her own bra off was always awkward, but Lenore bent her arms behind her to reach the clasp.
The smirk that answered her was, despite the differences in body, the same on both faces. Jamie put a hand on Jane’s chest, rubbed the flat of her sternum with light fingers. “I don’t kiss. And I like anal penetration.”
“Duly noted.” Jane pushed at Jamie’s shoulders. “Start easy - and if you stop when I’m close, I’ll kill you.” Not an idle threat.
Lenore liked watching. She liked participating, too, but when she was the one widening Jane’s thighs, she was too tightly focused to appreciate the visuals. She was too eager to part Jane’s labia with a single index finger, tracing through the sparse golden pubic hair Jane refused to have removed. She liked to follow her finger with the tip of her tongue, teasing despite the clenching of the long thighs resting over her shoulders.
But when she watched, Lenore could appreciate the way Jane bent her knees and opened her hips, made room for lavish attention and her own pleasure. Jamie hadn’t hesitated, had kissed her way down to lick at the crease of Jane’s thighs. When she watched, Lenore could appreciate the way Jane stretched her arms above her own head, tangled her hands in the pillow case and sighed in a long exhale when Jamie used her hands to spread Jane wide and receptive, bent to apply the tip of her tongue in circles around Jane’s clitoris.
They were both quiet. Jane had said, in the middle of one dark night, that she’d practiced coming silently so no one could use her orgasm against her. It was strategically sound. Lenore spared a moment to wonder what kept Jamie so stingy with her noises - but it was just a moment. Lenore unbuttoned her pants, pushed them down and off into a pile at her feet. She hiked her legs over the arms of the chair and reached to pet at her own hairless vulva. She liked the total nakedness of it, liked the ritual of hair removal. Liked the way Jane licked over the soft vulnerable skin.
Jane rolled her hips, a clear signal for more - Jamie obliged, as far as Lenore could see. When Jane’s legs flexed, it meant it was time to use the flat of her tongue, broad swipes that laved as much sensitive tissue as possible. Lenore thought she could spend more time on it than Jane ever allowed; Lenore liked bodies, like the taste and the burn of them as they twisted under her. It was why she had become a doctor, to find out how joints hinged together, how muscles interlaced, how blood flowed to every extremity. It made her wonder - she’d had her hands inside Jane from every angle; would Jamie be the same? They could send her back - or they could keep her. Lenore could open her chest just to watch her lungs flutter. Lenore could play with her until Jamie could take her fist.
Musing on the future was costing her the present - a bitten back gasp, just a hint of sound restrained, brought her back to what was happening in front of her and with her own body; Lenore walked two fingers lower, tested her own wetness before dragging fingers back up where she needed them. She rocked a little, pressed back against the motion of her own hand. It was easier to come like this - Jane understood, had learned to let Lenore get herself off unless it was a special occasion.
It might have been Jamie who gasped; Jane had bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood, her head tilted back so that the droplet tracked across her cheek instead of down her chin. But Jamie’s mouth was occupied, winding Jane higher, driving her forward as instructed: Jamie didn’t stop.
Lenore sucked on the fingers of her free hand, licked her thumb; her breasts felt heavy. She used the spit-slick fingers to draw a spiral in around the nipple of her right breast, slow and slow until just the tip of her index finger rode the tight bud. It all seemed connected to the bundle of nerves under her clit; it wasn’t physiologically true but, really,that didn't change the practical effect.
With the right stimulation, Jane’s orgasm was only a matter of time. She stiffened, breathed through her nose. It was all the outward sign she gave but Lenore was adept at reading the signals, even from across the room: the flare of Jane's nostrils, the way she held her breath in an effort to calm her body, and then the hand, as steady as ever, to Jamie's shoulder.
"Tell me about the other time." Jane's voice was a soft subterfuge - she never felt as gentle as she sounded.
Jamie lifted her head, wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. Her eyes were big and her cheeks were flushed; Jamie might not have the same hair trigger for climax but she looked to be enjoying herself just the same.
"Strenta VI?" Jamie pushed up on her hands and crawled over Jane, settled herself in the cradle of Jane's thighs and kissed a nipple with idle interest. "I beamed up and knew right away it wasn't my ship. Everything was white, gleaming. The floors were very clean." She moved again, to straddle Jane's hip. Jamie ground herself against the skin and bone with a light pressure.
"That's what you remember?" Lenore stilled. She almost laughed but held it back. "The floors?" It was something she'd remember.
The response was a little strained; Jane flexed her thigh, gave Jamie pressure to ride against. "We were men." Jamie bit her lip, though not as hard as Jane had bitten hers. "We were men and we were lucky."
Lenore let her legs slide off the arms of the chair, put her feet on the floor, stood up so she could walk to the edge of the bed. Jane smirked at her, reached out a hand to trace the scar on Lenore's thigh, a mark from her ex-wife. "Lucky? What do you mean?"
Jamie slowed the grinding circles of her hips, scooted back until she was mimicking her posture from the bio bed: on her back, propped up on her elbows. But now she was naked and she opened her legs to Lenore even as she shrugged a shoulder. "We still found each other." She stretched out a leg, nudged Lenore back into motion, onto the bed with the two of them. "It could have been very different."
Jane pulled Lenore into her lap, urged Lenore's legs into a tangle with Jamie's - the other Kirk, the strange Kirk in their midst who slid closer, until the warmth of her cunt was snug against Lenore. Jane leaned over, retrieved lube from her drawer. The slick slide of flesh, Lenore mused, was one of her favorite things. The lube was cold; they both jumped and Jane laughed as she reached to rub it into the skin between their thighs.
And hadn't they all been lucky, in their ways, to find each other? The thought drifted away, and Lenore closed her eyes.
Pairing: always!a!girl!mirror!McCoy/always!a!girl!mirror!Kirk/always!a!girl!nu!Kirk
Word Count: 3500
Rating: NC-17
Summary: She was their prisoner. They were well within their rights, as established by Fleet regulations, to do whatever they wanted to with her. Jane could go either direction - they’d peeled the clothes off of some of their prisoners, almost always eager to please the Empire’s golden captain, almost always disappointed when their cocks weren’t enough to make her come. They’d peeled the skin off of others.
Warnings: Do I have to warn for femslash? Threesomes? Mirror universe references to cruelty?
Notes: This is from a prompt by rubynye. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, BB. Many thanks to circ_bamboo for cheerleading and general feedback.
***
The woman beside her gave Dr. Lenore Honor McCoy, CMO of the Enterprise and personal physician to its captain, a side-eyed glare; the captain had recovered quickly. "I think you enjoyed ordering them to shoot me." Jane Kirk rubbed at her shoulder - Lenore had already given her the mild pain killer she'd allow; Jane probably wasn't actually in pain. "What's your theory?" The captain didn’t bother to whisper - the nurses knew better than to repeat anything they overheard, and it was Chapel on duty anyway - the woman with the scar on her face was silent as a tomb.
Lenore would know - she’d been the one to cut Chapel’s tongue out. The doctor returned the glare. Jane Kirk was the youngest captain in the Fleet. She was also only the second woman to hold on to her command for any significant length of time. The first, the enigmatic One, had been Pike's first officer before he'd promoted her and put her on the Intrepid in the middle of a squabble with some Klingons. The Empire had honored the battlefield promotion. Sometimes Lenore thought that was one reason Jane hadn't killed the newly-promoted Admiral outright when she'd had the chance. Though there was the occasional bit of tenderness between Jane and her sexy father figure.
Their prisoner was pale and still on the bio bed. The transporter room guards had done their job, stunning the two nearly identical figures as soon as Lenore had barked the order. Both blonde women had crumpled to the floor.
"Did some research. Ion storm could have split you into two halves of yourself, two manifestations of your personality." The article had discussed a hypothetical situation in which people could be separated into their good and evil selves. Lenore had laughed. Morality didn't mean much in the way to Jane. "Ruled that out while you were still unconscious." The more readings she'd had to work with, the more interesting Lenore's findings had been. "Think she's from another universe. Some sort of alternate track."
That would explain the uniform, after all. The figure on the bed wore pants, made of a study material, and a long-sleeved gold shirt with a black undershirt. It was... serviceable? It seemed utilitarian, something an office worker would wear. Lenore's Kirk wore a short black skirt with pockets, tall black boots with flat soles for running and kicking and fighting. Her gold undershirt fit tightly under the form-fitting black leather vest that had slowed more than one knife attack. Her hair was cropped short, revealed and highlighted the scar on her neck.
It really hadn't been that difficult to tell the two of them apart.
"When's she going to wake up?" There was something in Jane's question, some curiosity that meant she was going to want to poke at this woman, figure out what made her who she was - how the two of them were similar and how they were different. Jane liked to take things apart.
Lenore liked seeing how things looked on the inside. And it was interesting to try to put them back together again afterwards. She shifted her weight on her feet, eased closer into Jane's personal space. "No good reason for her not to be awake right now. My guess? She's not used to shaking off the stun." That implied certain things about her universe of origin. Implied certain things about how she might respond to being played with.
Jane's grin was wicked. And Lenore smiled back. If she'd actually thrown up on the disheveled cadet all those years ago, on that bumpy shuttle flight to San Francisco, maybe they wouldn't have been such fast friends. But Lenore's stomach had settled around the same Jane had joined her in the tiny bathroom and fingered her to a very surprising orgasm. It had been a welcome to the Fleet indeed.
A warning beep from the bio bed signaled that its occupant was finally waking up. Jane leaned over, fast and precise, to deliver a promising bite to Lenore's bottom lip - then she was pushing away from the wall they'd leaned against, nearly shoulder to shoulder, and ambling - there was no other word for it - to the other Kirk's bedside.
"You can't fake unconsciousness in this Sickbay, hotpants." Jane studied her short fingernails, painted a bright cherry red, until blue, blue eyes trembled open and met her curiosity with their own thirst for inquiry.
Oh, it was going to be good. Lenore moved to the other side of the bed. She'd already taken note of the readings but she scanned this other Kirk again anyway. "Do you have a name?"
The grin that widened across the pale face was weak but familiar. "Kirk. Captain Jamie Kirk of the star ship Enterprise." The woman's readings were stabilizing quickly. She tried again, and this time her smile conveyed charm and strength in equal measure. "I have to say, you both look very familiar." The blue eyes squinted and surveyed Lenore. "Though my Bones has much longer hair."
Bones. Lenore and Jane traded a look before Lenore dropped her gaze. She could feel a flush over her cheeks - and a nearly Pavlovian response between her thighs. Jane had started calling her Bones their second semester at the Academy. Both because she'd repaired several for Kirk and because she'd broken so many; eventually, the other cadets learned not to touch the surly doctor from Georgia, no matter how generous they thought her ass was.
"I cut it. Too easy to grab." Lenore surprised herself. And, from the arch of Jane's eyebrow, Lenore wasn't the only one wondering why she'd opened her mouth.
"Listen, I'm sure you're busy people," Jamie Kirk stopped talking when Lenore put her hand over the mobile pink mouth. The quick press of a tongue against the skin of her palm made her cock her head.
"You're not scared." Jane wasn't asking - and she sounded pleased. Lenore sighed. It would do things to Jane's ego if this Kirk was just as brash and reckless and goddamn brilliant as she was.
Lenore checked the readings again. "Slightly elevated heart rate - at least, it's elevated from your baseline. That might be off, but I doubt by much." She moved her hand enough to cover the other Kirk's nostrils as well as her mouth, cut off her air just a little. "Might be fear." The monitor beeped faster. "Might be something else."
Jane came back from skirmishes damp and aching, eager to fuck Lenore with any number of toys. If this Kirk was anything like that.... It might wind up worth dealing with Jane's ego after the fact.
Another press of that tongue and a slight shake of Jamie Kirk's head. Lenore pulled her hand back. "Something like this happened five months ago, ion storm over Strenta VI." Jamie looked between the two women standing over her. “Thought they were going to torture me. We fucked all night instead." The cream-and-sugar satisfaction in her voice was also familiar to Lenore.
She was their prisoner. They were well within their rights, as established by Fleet regulations, to do whatever they wanted to with her. Jane could go either direction - they’d peeled the clothes off of some of their prisoners, almost always eager to please the Empire’s golden captain, almost always disappointed when their cocks weren’t enough to make her come. They’d peeled the skin off of others.
If Lenore were a betting woman, though, she’d bet where this one was going to end up: tied to Kirk’s nonregulation bedpost, naked and glistening.
“Did you now?” There was Jane’s interest, signaled with nothing more than an inflection of pleasure. “And what makes you think we won’t go the torture route?” Lenore was interested in that answer herself.
Jamie Kirk had long hair. It tumbled forward over her shoulders as she propped herself up on her elbows, thick and wavy; Jamie shook her head to keep it out of her face. “Well, if you’re anything like me, you think it’d be foolish to pass up a chance for some… very complicated masturbation.” Her lashes glinted in Sickbay’s bright white lights when she lowered them, looked back up through them, coy and almost demure. “Don’t you want to know if you’re as good as I am?”
It was possible that Kirks were the same in every universe. Lenore groaned but Jane laughed, threw her head back and laughed with the genuine amusement that always worried her crew. The order was as close to inevitable as anything ever was on the Enterprise. Jane smirked at Jamie. “Kirk to Security. I need an armed escort in Sickbay.”
An armed escort meant Jane didn’t trust Jamie - it was wise never to trust a Kirk, Lenore knew first hand - but that it wasn’t going to stop her from stepping up the challenge implicit in Jamie’s frank and assessing gaze.
Lenore caught Chapel’s attention - the nurse nodded without needing explanation. She’d been a chatterbox, not an idiot. And she was a damn fine nurse. Lenore smiled her approval, then returned her attention to her captain. “M’Benga’ll be in soon. I’m ready to cut out if you are.”
***
The journey to Jane’s quarters - Lenore’s quarters, too, for all intents and purposes - had been uneventful. Enough crew members had seen them parading the captive at phaser point that rumors would circulate efficiently. Captain Jane Kirk and her ravenous impulses - Jane’s sex life was almost more famous than she was. The reputation was deserved.
“Am I boring you?” Jamie’s voice, if Lenore closed her eyes, was the same. It wasn’t the time for that sort of rumination, though - Lenore opened her own hazel eyes and met two blue gazes. Lenore had situated herself in the desk chair to watch and Jane had... It wasn't in Jane to hesitate but she didn't always rush in without a plan - Jane stayed at Lenore's side and looked down at her. Jamie knelt in the center of the bed, watching them together. Jane had ordered Jamie to strip as soon as the door had closed behind the exiting redshirts, and their prisoner - their guest for the moment - had complied with languid grace. She was lithe, sleek where Jane had more muscle mass, more strength earned in combat and through hard work at the gym. No tan lines - the even golden hue of her skin spoke of shore leaves somewhere in the sun. Maybe there had been obliging servants, slaves bringing drinks with umbrellas in them. She wore no scars.
It seemed redundant to note that she was beautiful.
“Just thinking.” It was her best and worst habit. Lenore settled more comfortably into her chair. “Just thinking I’d like to watch you both - it’s like mirrors.” Not true reflections, the women were too distinct even with identical features, but both of them mirrors showing other possibilities.
Jamie and Jane laughed, a beat apart. "You're a poet, Bones." Jane's grin was wry, but her mouth was welcoming when she leaned down to give Lenore a kiss. They'd been inseparable since that first shuttle ride - a new body between them now, Jane's teeth and tongue assured Lenore, wasn't going to keep them apart for long. Tension she hadn't even realized she carried in her shoulders relaxed - Lenore smiled into the kiss. She didn't need words for Jane to get the message: perhaps Lenore would be the one in the middle, actually.
"Doctor's orders, Captain," Lenore's voice turned gravelly in the bedroom. "I think it's time for you to go to bed."
Another bite to Lenore's mouth - there were days she spent mostly tasting of blood from Jane's enthusiasm - and Jane moved to the bed, unfastening the laces of her vest as she went.
The ankle boots Lenore favored were easy to kick off. She loosened the laces of her own vest, but didn't take it off. She couldn't bring herself to use Jamie's name - it seemed too intimate. But that didn't stop her from issuing direction. "Leave her boots on."
At least the other Kirk could take orders. Jamie moved to meet Jane, pushed hands aside to take over the job of unlacing and loosening. Jamie leaned forward, rubbed her small breasts, pert and tipped with sweet coral nipples - across the leather before peeling it off over Jane’s shoulders. They moved cooperatively, swayed and bent to pull the rest of Jane’s clothing off. Everything but her boots until Jane was sprawled on her back, arched and space pale under Jamie’s exploratory hand.
Jane’s body was familiar; Lenore knew it as a physician and a lover - Jane’s left shoulder tended to dislocate; it was bulky with more muscle than the women of the court thought strictly appropriate. Her right side was peppered with burn scars, perfect shiny round circles, just the size of illegal cigarettes. The Kirk family crest curled over her hip, red and yellow flourishes of color that were still bright, despite the age of the tattoo. Jane tangled their legs together, rolled her head to look at Lenore. “Was that all you wanted to see?”
Lenore’s own vest was easy to shrug out of - she grasped the hem of her blue undershirt and pulled it over her head. She rubbed a shoulder against the fabric of Jane’s chair, just to feel the rough texture of it. Lenore cupped her breasts, still in her bra, and considered. “Did you need me to tell you? I thought you’d know what to do, what with you playing with yourself and all.” Taking her own bra off was always awkward, but Lenore bent her arms behind her to reach the clasp.
The smirk that answered her was, despite the differences in body, the same on both faces. Jamie put a hand on Jane’s chest, rubbed the flat of her sternum with light fingers. “I don’t kiss. And I like anal penetration.”
“Duly noted.” Jane pushed at Jamie’s shoulders. “Start easy - and if you stop when I’m close, I’ll kill you.” Not an idle threat.
Lenore liked watching. She liked participating, too, but when she was the one widening Jane’s thighs, she was too tightly focused to appreciate the visuals. She was too eager to part Jane’s labia with a single index finger, tracing through the sparse golden pubic hair Jane refused to have removed. She liked to follow her finger with the tip of her tongue, teasing despite the clenching of the long thighs resting over her shoulders.
But when she watched, Lenore could appreciate the way Jane bent her knees and opened her hips, made room for lavish attention and her own pleasure. Jamie hadn’t hesitated, had kissed her way down to lick at the crease of Jane’s thighs. When she watched, Lenore could appreciate the way Jane stretched her arms above her own head, tangled her hands in the pillow case and sighed in a long exhale when Jamie used her hands to spread Jane wide and receptive, bent to apply the tip of her tongue in circles around Jane’s clitoris.
They were both quiet. Jane had said, in the middle of one dark night, that she’d practiced coming silently so no one could use her orgasm against her. It was strategically sound. Lenore spared a moment to wonder what kept Jamie so stingy with her noises - but it was just a moment. Lenore unbuttoned her pants, pushed them down and off into a pile at her feet. She hiked her legs over the arms of the chair and reached to pet at her own hairless vulva. She liked the total nakedness of it, liked the ritual of hair removal. Liked the way Jane licked over the soft vulnerable skin.
Jane rolled her hips, a clear signal for more - Jamie obliged, as far as Lenore could see. When Jane’s legs flexed, it meant it was time to use the flat of her tongue, broad swipes that laved as much sensitive tissue as possible. Lenore thought she could spend more time on it than Jane ever allowed; Lenore liked bodies, like the taste and the burn of them as they twisted under her. It was why she had become a doctor, to find out how joints hinged together, how muscles interlaced, how blood flowed to every extremity. It made her wonder - she’d had her hands inside Jane from every angle; would Jamie be the same? They could send her back - or they could keep her. Lenore could open her chest just to watch her lungs flutter. Lenore could play with her until Jamie could take her fist.
Musing on the future was costing her the present - a bitten back gasp, just a hint of sound restrained, brought her back to what was happening in front of her and with her own body; Lenore walked two fingers lower, tested her own wetness before dragging fingers back up where she needed them. She rocked a little, pressed back against the motion of her own hand. It was easier to come like this - Jane understood, had learned to let Lenore get herself off unless it was a special occasion.
It might have been Jamie who gasped; Jane had bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood, her head tilted back so that the droplet tracked across her cheek instead of down her chin. But Jamie’s mouth was occupied, winding Jane higher, driving her forward as instructed: Jamie didn’t stop.
Lenore sucked on the fingers of her free hand, licked her thumb; her breasts felt heavy. She used the spit-slick fingers to draw a spiral in around the nipple of her right breast, slow and slow until just the tip of her index finger rode the tight bud. It all seemed connected to the bundle of nerves under her clit; it wasn’t physiologically true but, really,that didn't change the practical effect.
With the right stimulation, Jane’s orgasm was only a matter of time. She stiffened, breathed through her nose. It was all the outward sign she gave but Lenore was adept at reading the signals, even from across the room: the flare of Jane's nostrils, the way she held her breath in an effort to calm her body, and then the hand, as steady as ever, to Jamie's shoulder.
"Tell me about the other time." Jane's voice was a soft subterfuge - she never felt as gentle as she sounded.
Jamie lifted her head, wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. Her eyes were big and her cheeks were flushed; Jamie might not have the same hair trigger for climax but she looked to be enjoying herself just the same.
"Strenta VI?" Jamie pushed up on her hands and crawled over Jane, settled herself in the cradle of Jane's thighs and kissed a nipple with idle interest. "I beamed up and knew right away it wasn't my ship. Everything was white, gleaming. The floors were very clean." She moved again, to straddle Jane's hip. Jamie ground herself against the skin and bone with a light pressure.
"That's what you remember?" Lenore stilled. She almost laughed but held it back. "The floors?" It was something she'd remember.
The response was a little strained; Jane flexed her thigh, gave Jamie pressure to ride against. "We were men." Jamie bit her lip, though not as hard as Jane had bitten hers. "We were men and we were lucky."
Lenore let her legs slide off the arms of the chair, put her feet on the floor, stood up so she could walk to the edge of the bed. Jane smirked at her, reached out a hand to trace the scar on Lenore's thigh, a mark from her ex-wife. "Lucky? What do you mean?"
Jamie slowed the grinding circles of her hips, scooted back until she was mimicking her posture from the bio bed: on her back, propped up on her elbows. But now she was naked and she opened her legs to Lenore even as she shrugged a shoulder. "We still found each other." She stretched out a leg, nudged Lenore back into motion, onto the bed with the two of them. "It could have been very different."
Jane pulled Lenore into her lap, urged Lenore's legs into a tangle with Jamie's - the other Kirk, the strange Kirk in their midst who slid closer, until the warmth of her cunt was snug against Lenore. Jane leaned over, retrieved lube from her drawer. The slick slide of flesh, Lenore mused, was one of her favorite things. The lube was cold; they both jumped and Jane laughed as she reached to rub it into the skin between their thighs.
And hadn't they all been lucky, in their ways, to find each other? The thought drifted away, and Lenore closed her eyes.