FIC: In A Vandal's Mood
Title: In A Vandal's Mood
Author: _samalander
Fandom: ST:AOS
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,337
Warnings: MirrorVerse, genderswap (always-a-girl!McCoy), het, sex, offscreen murder, and some offscreen prostitution.
In terms of sex, delayed orgasms and snowballing.
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Lady!McCoy
Summary: For this post at the Buckle Up Meme:
So in a quite a few mu! fics, Jim is a complete badass while Bones is a nice guy who has to submit to Kirk for protection or help. Can we ger the opposite? Here's the prompt.
Jim Kirk was conscripted in to the Fleet after evading them for many years. Kirk is terrified. He's got no money, no connections abd he's heard what happens to decent people like him in the Fleet. He ends up rooming with Leonard "Bones" McCoy, who's one of the wealthest and most feared people in the Empire. (He earned the nickname Bones after he killed his ex and scattered her bones all over town.)One night McCoy comes to Kirk with an offer. He'll protect Kirk and help him get a badass rep so that Kirk can make Captain. What does he want in exchange? Kirk in his bed. Kirk agrees.
The only thing I request is no non-con. I'd like to see Jim kinda scared and McCoy delighting in making Jim incoherent with pleasure. (And then they take over the universe :)
Title is from Yunyu's "Vandal" which is totally LadyMcCoy's themesong.
Disclaimer: Star Trek is property of people who are not me.
Jim was goddanm tired of running. He'd spent years on the dodge, staying away from any place where color-coded people went about their business. His parents had both been Fleet, and both were hauled up on treason charges when Jim was an infant. He'd spent years bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, which was really just Imperial slang for "work camps". Jim was smart, he knew he was smart, but he didn't possess the ruthlessness that the other kids had. He managed to be the brains of the operation, figuring out ways to get food or entertainment, and hiding when things began to get too rough.
When he turned 16, Jim was informed that, like the other wards of the Empire, he owed the Empress his allegiance, and his life. He was to be conscripted as canon fodder for the glory of Terra, the planet that had taken his parents and his life and forced him into the last 16 years of hell. He could serve eight years to pay them back, or undergo officer training and serve twenty, but probably not die as soon or as needlessly. The "recruitment" agent didn't tell Jim all of that, but he knew. He's observed long enough that it was clear.
We're all going to die, Kirk. You're going to die in service of the Empire. You wanna be a rising star, or a mote of dust?
Jim opted for secret option three. He blew the recruiter and prayed.
Somehow, the sex got him off the Empire's radar for a good eight months. The next recruiter was as easy to distract, as was the one after her. A flash of baby blues, a liberal application of tongue, and a few months, a year of not being canon fodder. It worked.
Until fucking Pike walked into his life.
Everyone in the Empire knew who Chris Pike was. Captain of the flagship, deadly and dangerous and had a voracious appetite for pretty young things. Jim thought he had a chance with this one, thought he might have to give up his ass rather than his mouth, but he would have another few months of playing chicken with the Empire.
Except Pike wasn't interested. He'd walked into the room like he owned the place - and fuck, maybe he did - threw Jim's aptitude tests on the table and stared.
"Usually by now the recruiter has his pants off," Jim said, shrugging, after the first ten minutes of stony silence.
Pike nodded. "Kids. Infants. Thinking with their nucleus accumbens and not their rational parts. Doesn't work on me."
Jim had heard the whispers - that to keep the sexual favors to a minimum, the Empire castrated its highest ranking members. Looking at Pike's grey visage, he believed it. He believed that they'd cut out any part of you they didn't like in the name of making you the person they wanted you to be.
Pike waited.
"So," Jim sighed and spread his hands on the table, palms up, a gesture of surrender, of put the cuffs on me, then. "Today's the day I sign up to die for the Fleet?"
The old wolf smiled and gestured to the PADDs he had tossed on the table. "No. These - you're the smartest kid who ever passed through Pinecrest, one of the few who wasn't broken by Ishtar, and you don't see many who can avoid the Empire's recruiters for nigh on three years. Today's the day you get on a shuttle and learn how to be a productive member of the Terran Empire. Today's the day you look at your parents, at your waste-of-flesh brother, rotting his guts on in an alley somewhere instead of caring for you, and you laugh, because James Tiberius Kirk - which is a fucking awful name, by the way - is going to be the only Kirk in generations who is worth the air he breathes. Your family - the Kirk family - back in the days of wooden ships, they were among the first to subjugate the North American Natives. And you're going to do better than that, for the Empire."
Jim raised an eyebrow at the idea of the glory of subjugating a people, and the idea that he would be good at it.
"Optimum quod primum," Pike muttered. "The old Kirk motto. Your great-great grandfather had it tattooed on him. That is best that is first. Your family has lost that. So." Pike reached down and pulled out an agonizer and a phaser, which he set on the table as a silent threat. "You get on my ship and you come to San Francisco and work on that best and first crap, or I torture you to death in this room, as a service to the Empire."
Jim eyed the phaser and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Twenty minutes later he was on Pike's shuttle with the dark feeling of rowing across the River Lethe and into Erebus.
---
Jim knew who she was; a scowl under a mop of brown hair, sloping shoulders, and lips that made him feel like he needed to take a shower. Dr. Lenna McCoy, daughter of Davida McCoy, heir to the goddamn southern half of the continent.
And his fucking lab partner.
She was coolly filing her nails when he walked in, put his thumb on the sign-in roster, and was assigned the seat between her and Thom Grant. He had done the research all cadets do - who was in the class, who were they loyal to? But knowing of McCoy, seeing pictures and skimming society pages, was nothing like seeing the woman in person.
She'd killed her husband, that's why she was Fleet. He'd been cheating on her, and when Lenna's spies reported it she'd gone full Medea - killed her own daughter, her husband, his lover and both their families. Jim glimpsed the bleached white charms on the bracelet she wore, the six small bones a gristly souvenir of her former life and a warning to anyone who might cross her. It wasn't easy to get the inner-ear bones out of someone's head, and it wasn't regulation to dress yourself with trophies, but Lenna had done it and she wore them, and no one questioned her.
Not even Lenna McCoy - Bones, they called her, for her choice in accessory - could get away with a rampage of the type she'd indulged, and Jim remembered the headlines when Davida had announced that, as penance for her sins, her daughter would serve the Empire as a doctor and an officer until such time as her skills were no longer needed.
It was a different kind of death sentence.
Jim slid into the chair next to Bones, felt her hazel eyes slide over his body like it was a cadaver on her table.
"Hello, Kirk."
"Doctor McCoy."
He heard a smile in her drawl, but refused to look up. If he looked her in the eye, then she was real, then she was more than a rattle - she was a snake, and she was poised to strike. He could ignore her for the duration of the class period, and then petition to change sections. He'd have to give the obnoxious Vulcan who ran class assignments at least a rim job, but it would be worth it to be the one who snuck out of Lenna McCoy's talons before she had a grip.
Except then she went quiet and he did look up and their eyes met and Jim felt in the pit of his stomach that he was unequivocally, irrevocably, completely fucked.
---
Lenna McCoy's husband had been a blond. She had a bit of a weakness for blond men, for the pale skin that showed every impression she left on it, for the deceptive frailty of the male form and the stupid mismatched dark eyebrows that had made Jackson Darnell so damn edible.
And here was James Tiberius Kirk, son of George and Winona Kirk, deceased, slipping out of the chair he had barely been able to keep his bubble butt in for the last three hours. She followed, motioning to Reyes to pack her things and bring them along. Reyes was a good boy, he did what Lenna told him in the hopes that, when she was Empress - and she would be Empress - she would choose him as consort. He had been her number one pick, mostly because he was loyal and submissive and the exact opposite, physically, of Jackson, but now there was Kirk and something in Lenna was twisting with want.
She caught him on the steps, her sharpened nails snagging his cadet reds.
"You don't walk away from me."
He started, nearly pitching forward down the stairs. How cute, he was scared of her. She had him off balance and his teeth were denting his lower lip in a way that made Lenna want to just fucking eat him right up. He was like marzipan, she thought, sweet and malleable and slightly tinged with that cyanide taste.
"I'm sorry?"
"You should be," she growled. "You should be very sorry."
Men were so easy, Lenna thought, watching his brow begin to bead with sweat and his weight shift just ever so slightly.
"But you'll make it up to me," she purred, razor blade fingers cutting a path down his chest. "When you show up to my quarters this evening. 1900."
Kirk nodded, seeming to find his feet under his arousal, and shrugged his shoulders. "Gonna make me dinner, Bones?"
Not many people had the guts to call her that to her face, especially not ones who looked as close to pissing themselves as Kirk currently did. She liked that spark in a conquest, so she laughed and shook her sleeve back to show the pieces of her family.
"You're going to eat, Kirk, that's for sure."
He seemed to think about it, which was silly because she was offering him something here, something he wasn't going to get from Sulu or Mitchell or any of the other posturing idiots on this campus. She was offering her protection, and that went a long way in the McCoy world. And, as far as Lenna was concerned, the whole goddamned universe was the McCoy world.
She didn't wait for an answer. If Kirk was too dumb to see what Lenna had, what she might just be willing to share with blue eyes and absolute obedience, then she didn't have the time to waste. She left him on the steps, staring at her fine ass as she sauntered away.
---
Kirk paced his dorm room nervously. If he was going to meet McCoy - he was going to meet McCoy, because he liked his body parts where they were at the moment - he needed a game plan.
Unfortunately, so far Jim's game plans had consisted of "run" and "run faster." This was going to require finesse. He tapped a few things out on his PADD sullenly.
He showed up at her apartment - of course she had an apartment, a penthouse off campus - at 18:54, and grinned sunnily at her guards. "Cupcake. Cupcake two."
They frisked him, probably more vigorously than necessary, but didn't find anything, because Jim was only carrying his regulation dagger and it was dull as shit. It was all part of the plan; part of his idea to live through the night.
They ushered him into the sitting room, where Jim slowly unlaced his boots and unsheathed his dagger. When Bones made her sweeping entry after letting him sweat for ten minutes, he was on the couch, his belongings tucked next to the door, safely out of arm's reach.
McCoy smiled her sweetest smile, which made her look more insane than Jim had seen before. She didn't have much body to show off, but she knew how to work what she did have, and his mouth was dry just thinking of the taste of her midriff, licking the curve of her knee, making her keen and gasp like she'd promised he could.
The shoes and knife were a calculated risk - it sent a message. "I am not here to hurt you, I cannot run." Of course, she was offering no such assurances, but it was her home. She owed him nothing. And he was nothing, a bug on the cosmic windshield of Lenna McCoy's limo. And until today, it had been enough.
The Orion slave who served their drinks was beautiful, but Bones ruled the room. Any other situation might have had Jim confused or conflicted - he enjoyed sex, but he hated the way people used it as currency. Swallowing for freedom - though somewhat pathetically poetic - had ruined the thrill of intimacy he'd found with the few boys and girls who needed the comfort as much as he had on those long, cold night in the camps. And the Academy had just taught Jim to lay back and take it, let people have what they wanted in return for his safety and continued use of oxygen.
Lenna made charming small talk, every inch the socialite doctor she had been raised to be. She never mentioned his shoes and dagger, letting Jim squirm in his own time. Finally, his drink reduced to puddles around the ice at the bottom of his glass, Jim asked the question that was gnawing at him.
"Why did you ask me here?"
Lenna gave him an appraising glance. "Why did you come?"
Jim shifted in his seat. "Had the inkling it wasn't an invitation so much as an order."
She set her drink on the end table and stood, prowling her way across the room to him.
"Here's how this is going to go," she purred. "I'm a simple country doctor. I don't want to be in this stupid Fleet. I should be doing any number of things instead. But I'm here and I need a partner."
Jim raised his eyebrow, and her laugh rang like bells. "Not an equal partner, Kirk, don't get any ideas. I need a consort, and while I'm in the service, that means a captain who won't have any ideas about his CMO being subservient." She was in his personal space now, and Jim could smell the spicy tang of her perfume, like oleander and antiseptic and death.
"And what do I get in return?" He was trying to be brave, trying to ignore the rattle her wrist made when she moved her fingers to trace his lips.
"You get to live," she hissed in his ear, "and you get to be captain of the flagship."
Jim didn't protest - Pike was going to get that job, and Jim didn't have the stones to kill him. But a scenario flitted through his brain, Lenna handing him the old man's bloody scalp and standing beside him as he went to claim his new place.
It wasn't unappealing. And she could do it.
"Rules," he gasped out as one of her stiletto fingers traced the juncture of his pants and tunic.
"Right." Her hand snaked down to his fly, thumbing the button open. "One, I can fuck whomever I want. You get permission first." Agonizingly slowly, she worked his fly down and ran the pads of her fingers up the length of his cock, still trapped in his briefs. "Two, you excel at the Academy and earn your spot on the flagship. I won't buy you that, unless Pike is an idiot who doesn't see the potential you've proved." She thumbed his slit through the fabric and Jim arched and gasped.
"That all?"
She leaned forward, fingers slipping under the band of his underwear and her breath hot against his lips. "When I call, you come. You respect me in public, no matter what you think. And I get the final word on everything."
Jim choked on that last one as her hand found his balls and squeezed, everything indeed. "Everything?"
"Promotions, offers, alliances, class schedule. I suppose you can scratch your ass without asking, but I reserve the right to take that away, if I want to."
Jim was trying desperately to maintain blood flow to his brain, but his cock was hard and she was gorgeous in her own lethal way and he nodded. "Anything else?"
She slipped down to her knees, nuzzling his chest, mouthing at his belly button, and finally pulling his pants down around his ankles, letting his cock free.
Jim gasped when she took him in her mouth, his hands reaching forward to tangle in her hair. She pulled back at the first touch and fixed him in her stare. "Hands above your head, Jim. And no coming until I say."
Jim swallowed hard and complied. All the times he'd blown someone for freedom, or fucked for warmth, he'd never had anything even remotely like the warm slide of Lenna McCoy's mouth, wicked hints of teeth and tongue and the prick of her long, pointed fingernails as they traced along the vein on the bottom of his cock. He glanced down because this was something too good to remember without visuals, and she was still staring, still watching his face, cold and calculating, gauging every gasp and whimper and moan.
She might have been on her knees, but there was no question in Jim's mind who was in control of this situation, the pressure she kept on the base of his dick just enough to stop him from filling her mouth, the firm hand on his hips stopping him from thrusting. This was Lenna's show and he was just her prop.
And somehow, he didn't mind. Jim liked the idea, the surrender, the fact that there was someone out there, finally, someone who gave a shit if he lived or died. He wouldn't say he trusted McCoy, he wouldn't say for sure he even liked her. But he was being handed, in some way, an offer he would have to be a stone-cold idiot to refuse.
She pulled back and traced her tongue down to his balls, sucking and licking at his sack as her fingers traced lightly along his thighs. "You wanna come?" she whispered, her breath coolwarmwet against the skin where her tongue had been, and Jim whimpered his assent.
"You belong to me," she said, and he just nodded, biting back please and Lenna and fucking hell.
"Say it," she commanded, twisting her wrist just so, making him cry out.
"I belong to you," he gasped through the assault of pleasure, his hips canting up into her grip.
"You will be loyal."
"Loyal."
She smiled and licked at the tip again; just enough that Jim thought she was actually getting off on the torture, but his arms stayed where she'd commanded them. This was a test. This was a test. This was the best test he'd ever taken.
"Jimmy..."
"I am loyal to Lenna McCoy."
"Good boy," she smiled, "I suppose you may come." Her mouth descended onto him, until he felt himself nudging the back of her throat. She swallowed around him and he cried out, feeling the dams of his reserve splinter under her ministrations.
She stroked him through his orgasm, keeping her mouth tightly sealed to his cock. When he was done, panting and satiated, she began to crawl up his body again, before capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss.
His lips parted to let her in, and he was surprised at the sensation of his own bitter come flowing into his mouth. It wasn't unpleasant, not in the least, and Jim lapped at her mouth, pulling the last of himself from her until she pulled back and smiled. "Good boy, Jimmy," she murmured, wiping a drop from his lips with her thumb and holding it in front of his mouth. He leaned forward and kissed the pad of her finger, letting his tongue finish cleaning her.
"So, do we have an agreement?"
Author: _samalander
Fandom: ST:AOS
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,337
Warnings: MirrorVerse, genderswap (always-a-girl!McCoy), het, sex, offscreen murder, and some offscreen prostitution.
In terms of sex, delayed orgasms and snowballing.
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Lady!McCoy
Summary: For this post at the Buckle Up Meme:
So in a quite a few mu! fics, Jim is a complete badass while Bones is a nice guy who has to submit to Kirk for protection or help. Can we ger the opposite? Here's the prompt.
Jim Kirk was conscripted in to the Fleet after evading them for many years. Kirk is terrified. He's got no money, no connections abd he's heard what happens to decent people like him in the Fleet. He ends up rooming with Leonard "Bones" McCoy, who's one of the wealthest and most feared people in the Empire. (He earned the nickname Bones after he killed his ex and scattered her bones all over town.)One night McCoy comes to Kirk with an offer. He'll protect Kirk and help him get a badass rep so that Kirk can make Captain. What does he want in exchange? Kirk in his bed. Kirk agrees.
The only thing I request is no non-con. I'd like to see Jim kinda scared and McCoy delighting in making Jim incoherent with pleasure. (And then they take over the universe :)
Title is from Yunyu's "Vandal" which is totally LadyMcCoy's themesong.
Disclaimer: Star Trek is property of people who are not me.
Jim was goddanm tired of running. He'd spent years on the dodge, staying away from any place where color-coded people went about their business. His parents had both been Fleet, and both were hauled up on treason charges when Jim was an infant. He'd spent years bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, which was really just Imperial slang for "work camps". Jim was smart, he knew he was smart, but he didn't possess the ruthlessness that the other kids had. He managed to be the brains of the operation, figuring out ways to get food or entertainment, and hiding when things began to get too rough.
When he turned 16, Jim was informed that, like the other wards of the Empire, he owed the Empress his allegiance, and his life. He was to be conscripted as canon fodder for the glory of Terra, the planet that had taken his parents and his life and forced him into the last 16 years of hell. He could serve eight years to pay them back, or undergo officer training and serve twenty, but probably not die as soon or as needlessly. The "recruitment" agent didn't tell Jim all of that, but he knew. He's observed long enough that it was clear.
We're all going to die, Kirk. You're going to die in service of the Empire. You wanna be a rising star, or a mote of dust?
Jim opted for secret option three. He blew the recruiter and prayed.
Somehow, the sex got him off the Empire's radar for a good eight months. The next recruiter was as easy to distract, as was the one after her. A flash of baby blues, a liberal application of tongue, and a few months, a year of not being canon fodder. It worked.
Until fucking Pike walked into his life.
Everyone in the Empire knew who Chris Pike was. Captain of the flagship, deadly and dangerous and had a voracious appetite for pretty young things. Jim thought he had a chance with this one, thought he might have to give up his ass rather than his mouth, but he would have another few months of playing chicken with the Empire.
Except Pike wasn't interested. He'd walked into the room like he owned the place - and fuck, maybe he did - threw Jim's aptitude tests on the table and stared.
"Usually by now the recruiter has his pants off," Jim said, shrugging, after the first ten minutes of stony silence.
Pike nodded. "Kids. Infants. Thinking with their nucleus accumbens and not their rational parts. Doesn't work on me."
Jim had heard the whispers - that to keep the sexual favors to a minimum, the Empire castrated its highest ranking members. Looking at Pike's grey visage, he believed it. He believed that they'd cut out any part of you they didn't like in the name of making you the person they wanted you to be.
Pike waited.
"So," Jim sighed and spread his hands on the table, palms up, a gesture of surrender, of put the cuffs on me, then. "Today's the day I sign up to die for the Fleet?"
The old wolf smiled and gestured to the PADDs he had tossed on the table. "No. These - you're the smartest kid who ever passed through Pinecrest, one of the few who wasn't broken by Ishtar, and you don't see many who can avoid the Empire's recruiters for nigh on three years. Today's the day you get on a shuttle and learn how to be a productive member of the Terran Empire. Today's the day you look at your parents, at your waste-of-flesh brother, rotting his guts on in an alley somewhere instead of caring for you, and you laugh, because James Tiberius Kirk - which is a fucking awful name, by the way - is going to be the only Kirk in generations who is worth the air he breathes. Your family - the Kirk family - back in the days of wooden ships, they were among the first to subjugate the North American Natives. And you're going to do better than that, for the Empire."
Jim raised an eyebrow at the idea of the glory of subjugating a people, and the idea that he would be good at it.
"Optimum quod primum," Pike muttered. "The old Kirk motto. Your great-great grandfather had it tattooed on him. That is best that is first. Your family has lost that. So." Pike reached down and pulled out an agonizer and a phaser, which he set on the table as a silent threat. "You get on my ship and you come to San Francisco and work on that best and first crap, or I torture you to death in this room, as a service to the Empire."
Jim eyed the phaser and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Twenty minutes later he was on Pike's shuttle with the dark feeling of rowing across the River Lethe and into Erebus.
---
Jim knew who she was; a scowl under a mop of brown hair, sloping shoulders, and lips that made him feel like he needed to take a shower. Dr. Lenna McCoy, daughter of Davida McCoy, heir to the goddamn southern half of the continent.
And his fucking lab partner.
She was coolly filing her nails when he walked in, put his thumb on the sign-in roster, and was assigned the seat between her and Thom Grant. He had done the research all cadets do - who was in the class, who were they loyal to? But knowing of McCoy, seeing pictures and skimming society pages, was nothing like seeing the woman in person.
She'd killed her husband, that's why she was Fleet. He'd been cheating on her, and when Lenna's spies reported it she'd gone full Medea - killed her own daughter, her husband, his lover and both their families. Jim glimpsed the bleached white charms on the bracelet she wore, the six small bones a gristly souvenir of her former life and a warning to anyone who might cross her. It wasn't easy to get the inner-ear bones out of someone's head, and it wasn't regulation to dress yourself with trophies, but Lenna had done it and she wore them, and no one questioned her.
Not even Lenna McCoy - Bones, they called her, for her choice in accessory - could get away with a rampage of the type she'd indulged, and Jim remembered the headlines when Davida had announced that, as penance for her sins, her daughter would serve the Empire as a doctor and an officer until such time as her skills were no longer needed.
It was a different kind of death sentence.
Jim slid into the chair next to Bones, felt her hazel eyes slide over his body like it was a cadaver on her table.
"Hello, Kirk."
"Doctor McCoy."
He heard a smile in her drawl, but refused to look up. If he looked her in the eye, then she was real, then she was more than a rattle - she was a snake, and she was poised to strike. He could ignore her for the duration of the class period, and then petition to change sections. He'd have to give the obnoxious Vulcan who ran class assignments at least a rim job, but it would be worth it to be the one who snuck out of Lenna McCoy's talons before she had a grip.
Except then she went quiet and he did look up and their eyes met and Jim felt in the pit of his stomach that he was unequivocally, irrevocably, completely fucked.
---
Lenna McCoy's husband had been a blond. She had a bit of a weakness for blond men, for the pale skin that showed every impression she left on it, for the deceptive frailty of the male form and the stupid mismatched dark eyebrows that had made Jackson Darnell so damn edible.
And here was James Tiberius Kirk, son of George and Winona Kirk, deceased, slipping out of the chair he had barely been able to keep his bubble butt in for the last three hours. She followed, motioning to Reyes to pack her things and bring them along. Reyes was a good boy, he did what Lenna told him in the hopes that, when she was Empress - and she would be Empress - she would choose him as consort. He had been her number one pick, mostly because he was loyal and submissive and the exact opposite, physically, of Jackson, but now there was Kirk and something in Lenna was twisting with want.
She caught him on the steps, her sharpened nails snagging his cadet reds.
"You don't walk away from me."
He started, nearly pitching forward down the stairs. How cute, he was scared of her. She had him off balance and his teeth were denting his lower lip in a way that made Lenna want to just fucking eat him right up. He was like marzipan, she thought, sweet and malleable and slightly tinged with that cyanide taste.
"I'm sorry?"
"You should be," she growled. "You should be very sorry."
Men were so easy, Lenna thought, watching his brow begin to bead with sweat and his weight shift just ever so slightly.
"But you'll make it up to me," she purred, razor blade fingers cutting a path down his chest. "When you show up to my quarters this evening. 1900."
Kirk nodded, seeming to find his feet under his arousal, and shrugged his shoulders. "Gonna make me dinner, Bones?"
Not many people had the guts to call her that to her face, especially not ones who looked as close to pissing themselves as Kirk currently did. She liked that spark in a conquest, so she laughed and shook her sleeve back to show the pieces of her family.
"You're going to eat, Kirk, that's for sure."
He seemed to think about it, which was silly because she was offering him something here, something he wasn't going to get from Sulu or Mitchell or any of the other posturing idiots on this campus. She was offering her protection, and that went a long way in the McCoy world. And, as far as Lenna was concerned, the whole goddamned universe was the McCoy world.
She didn't wait for an answer. If Kirk was too dumb to see what Lenna had, what she might just be willing to share with blue eyes and absolute obedience, then she didn't have the time to waste. She left him on the steps, staring at her fine ass as she sauntered away.
---
Kirk paced his dorm room nervously. If he was going to meet McCoy - he was going to meet McCoy, because he liked his body parts where they were at the moment - he needed a game plan.
Unfortunately, so far Jim's game plans had consisted of "run" and "run faster." This was going to require finesse. He tapped a few things out on his PADD sullenly.
He showed up at her apartment - of course she had an apartment, a penthouse off campus - at 18:54, and grinned sunnily at her guards. "Cupcake. Cupcake two."
They frisked him, probably more vigorously than necessary, but didn't find anything, because Jim was only carrying his regulation dagger and it was dull as shit. It was all part of the plan; part of his idea to live through the night.
They ushered him into the sitting room, where Jim slowly unlaced his boots and unsheathed his dagger. When Bones made her sweeping entry after letting him sweat for ten minutes, he was on the couch, his belongings tucked next to the door, safely out of arm's reach.
McCoy smiled her sweetest smile, which made her look more insane than Jim had seen before. She didn't have much body to show off, but she knew how to work what she did have, and his mouth was dry just thinking of the taste of her midriff, licking the curve of her knee, making her keen and gasp like she'd promised he could.
The shoes and knife were a calculated risk - it sent a message. "I am not here to hurt you, I cannot run." Of course, she was offering no such assurances, but it was her home. She owed him nothing. And he was nothing, a bug on the cosmic windshield of Lenna McCoy's limo. And until today, it had been enough.
The Orion slave who served their drinks was beautiful, but Bones ruled the room. Any other situation might have had Jim confused or conflicted - he enjoyed sex, but he hated the way people used it as currency. Swallowing for freedom - though somewhat pathetically poetic - had ruined the thrill of intimacy he'd found with the few boys and girls who needed the comfort as much as he had on those long, cold night in the camps. And the Academy had just taught Jim to lay back and take it, let people have what they wanted in return for his safety and continued use of oxygen.
Lenna made charming small talk, every inch the socialite doctor she had been raised to be. She never mentioned his shoes and dagger, letting Jim squirm in his own time. Finally, his drink reduced to puddles around the ice at the bottom of his glass, Jim asked the question that was gnawing at him.
"Why did you ask me here?"
Lenna gave him an appraising glance. "Why did you come?"
Jim shifted in his seat. "Had the inkling it wasn't an invitation so much as an order."
She set her drink on the end table and stood, prowling her way across the room to him.
"Here's how this is going to go," she purred. "I'm a simple country doctor. I don't want to be in this stupid Fleet. I should be doing any number of things instead. But I'm here and I need a partner."
Jim raised his eyebrow, and her laugh rang like bells. "Not an equal partner, Kirk, don't get any ideas. I need a consort, and while I'm in the service, that means a captain who won't have any ideas about his CMO being subservient." She was in his personal space now, and Jim could smell the spicy tang of her perfume, like oleander and antiseptic and death.
"And what do I get in return?" He was trying to be brave, trying to ignore the rattle her wrist made when she moved her fingers to trace his lips.
"You get to live," she hissed in his ear, "and you get to be captain of the flagship."
Jim didn't protest - Pike was going to get that job, and Jim didn't have the stones to kill him. But a scenario flitted through his brain, Lenna handing him the old man's bloody scalp and standing beside him as he went to claim his new place.
It wasn't unappealing. And she could do it.
"Rules," he gasped out as one of her stiletto fingers traced the juncture of his pants and tunic.
"Right." Her hand snaked down to his fly, thumbing the button open. "One, I can fuck whomever I want. You get permission first." Agonizingly slowly, she worked his fly down and ran the pads of her fingers up the length of his cock, still trapped in his briefs. "Two, you excel at the Academy and earn your spot on the flagship. I won't buy you that, unless Pike is an idiot who doesn't see the potential you've proved." She thumbed his slit through the fabric and Jim arched and gasped.
"That all?"
She leaned forward, fingers slipping under the band of his underwear and her breath hot against his lips. "When I call, you come. You respect me in public, no matter what you think. And I get the final word on everything."
Jim choked on that last one as her hand found his balls and squeezed, everything indeed. "Everything?"
"Promotions, offers, alliances, class schedule. I suppose you can scratch your ass without asking, but I reserve the right to take that away, if I want to."
Jim was trying desperately to maintain blood flow to his brain, but his cock was hard and she was gorgeous in her own lethal way and he nodded. "Anything else?"
She slipped down to her knees, nuzzling his chest, mouthing at his belly button, and finally pulling his pants down around his ankles, letting his cock free.
Jim gasped when she took him in her mouth, his hands reaching forward to tangle in her hair. She pulled back at the first touch and fixed him in her stare. "Hands above your head, Jim. And no coming until I say."
Jim swallowed hard and complied. All the times he'd blown someone for freedom, or fucked for warmth, he'd never had anything even remotely like the warm slide of Lenna McCoy's mouth, wicked hints of teeth and tongue and the prick of her long, pointed fingernails as they traced along the vein on the bottom of his cock. He glanced down because this was something too good to remember without visuals, and she was still staring, still watching his face, cold and calculating, gauging every gasp and whimper and moan.
She might have been on her knees, but there was no question in Jim's mind who was in control of this situation, the pressure she kept on the base of his dick just enough to stop him from filling her mouth, the firm hand on his hips stopping him from thrusting. This was Lenna's show and he was just her prop.
And somehow, he didn't mind. Jim liked the idea, the surrender, the fact that there was someone out there, finally, someone who gave a shit if he lived or died. He wouldn't say he trusted McCoy, he wouldn't say for sure he even liked her. But he was being handed, in some way, an offer he would have to be a stone-cold idiot to refuse.
She pulled back and traced her tongue down to his balls, sucking and licking at his sack as her fingers traced lightly along his thighs. "You wanna come?" she whispered, her breath coolwarmwet against the skin where her tongue had been, and Jim whimpered his assent.
"You belong to me," she said, and he just nodded, biting back please and Lenna and fucking hell.
"Say it," she commanded, twisting her wrist just so, making him cry out.
"I belong to you," he gasped through the assault of pleasure, his hips canting up into her grip.
"You will be loyal."
"Loyal."
She smiled and licked at the tip again; just enough that Jim thought she was actually getting off on the torture, but his arms stayed where she'd commanded them. This was a test. This was a test. This was the best test he'd ever taken.
"Jimmy..."
"I am loyal to Lenna McCoy."
"Good boy," she smiled, "I suppose you may come." Her mouth descended onto him, until he felt himself nudging the back of her throat. She swallowed around him and he cried out, feeling the dams of his reserve splinter under her ministrations.
She stroked him through his orgasm, keeping her mouth tightly sealed to his cock. When he was done, panting and satiated, she began to crawl up his body again, before capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss.
His lips parted to let her in, and he was surprised at the sensation of his own bitter come flowing into his mouth. It wasn't unpleasant, not in the least, and Jim lapped at her mouth, pulling the last of himself from her until she pulled back and smiled. "Good boy, Jimmy," she murmured, wiping a drop from his lips with her thumb and holding it in front of his mouth. He leaned forward and kissed the pad of her finger, letting his tongue finish cleaning her.
"So, do we have an agreement?"