FML: Looking in from the outside
Title: FML: Looking in from the outside
Sequel to: FML (fuck my life), FML: the Admirals' take and FML: Protocol for an orgy
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Pike/Boyce, Kirk/McCoy and foursome mix
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mild D/s
Word Count: Around 2100
Summary: They've taken his doctor away. Jim's not happy.
Author's note: Sorry, Jim had an angsty fit so the humour got a bit lost. Tomorrow should be less intense.
___________________________________________________
Jim shifts restlessly on the hard chair. The knots make sure that there isn’t much wriggle-room. And how the hell did the Surgeon-General get this good at tying people up? What do they get up to in the medbay of deep space vessels? Which gets him thinking about what he and Bones may be able to get up to, which leads back to the annoying realization that he is up alright, up and quiveringly hopeful, but getting nothing more than a chilly breeze swirling round his aching cock, while Bones is getting the ride of his life. How the hell did that happen?
The spanking had been disconcertingly inspirational. Bones had squirmed and cursed and flailed and Pike had just kept on smacking. Boyce had lounged on a chair, legs crossed at the ankles, watching as coolly as if reviewing a vid on inter-planetary health protocols. “Enough,” he’d said eventually. “Chris, you’ll give yourself repetitive strain syndrome and try explaining that to your doctor. There are other things you could be doing with that peachy ass.” He’d thrown Pike a tube of lube.
“You do it,” Pike had replied. “My hand needs a rest. I’ll work on shutting up that pouty mouth of his.
Jim had watched, tugging against the ropes, biting down on the damned gag, as Chris had lain back in a pile of pillows and guided Bones’ head into the open V of his legs. Boyce meanwhile had cheerfully stuck two lubed fingers up to the knuckle in that reddened ass, leaving Bones swearing forcefully.
“We’ve better things for you to do with that filthy mouth,” Pike had said, grabbing Bones firmly by the hair and impaling the younger man’s face on his cock. Boyce had moved smoothly in behind, spread the thick thighs, pushed one up to the side, and shoved in hard and deep. The movement had rocked Bones forward onto Pike’s cock and he’d let out a stifled groan of such wanton abandon that Jim could feel himself jerking, leaking precome.
He’d expected them to be on their knees, with Bones kneeling between them, and it takes him a moment to realize that Pike probably can’t stay on his knees for any period of time. The man still looks so much the same - so much the invulnerable commander - that it is a shock to remember that he isn’t. He never will be again. None of them will ever be the same again.
He drags his mind away from the thought, focusing back on Bones. Pike has one hand deep in Bones’ hair, controlling him, while with the other he strokes down the side of Boyce’s face. For all they have Bones’ between them, their eyes are all for each other. Jim wants that to be him and his doctor in thirty years time. But for that to work he’s got to keep both of them alive. What if he can’t do it?
No, stay in the moment, look at Bones. This is the vision he’d wanted, his beautiful Bones solidly plugged up at both ends, a delicious fuck-toy moaning his pleasure around a mouthful of one cock as he clenches around an assful of another. He’s so often wanted to shut up Bones like this himself. Everyone calls him chatty and cheeky, but do they not listen to his doctor? Surly, grumpy, growly, always short-tempered and often as cutting as a laser scalpel with his sarcasm. Jim hopes never to let on just how much Bones can hurt him with a few swift put-downs. He also hopes never to let on how much he’s come to rely on the other man.
He’d got through the drama of defeating the Narada on adrenaline and instinct. It had been the aftermath that had been hard - the slow trickle of news of how few had escaped the other ships, the vacant stares of the psyche-damaged Vulcans, the incredulity from everyone that he was acting captain. And the challenge, day after day, of coaxing the crippled ship back towards Earth while keeping the crew disciplined, the morale less than suicidally low, and the injured and bereft tended to as best as they could. It had been Bones - with a roughly applied hypo, a gently given kiss, a cuff across the head, and a gruff promise of : “I’ve got your back, kid, now sort the rest of those fuckers out,” - that had kept him going hour after interminable hour.
And now they’ve taken Bones away from him… He pulls frantically against the ropes, suddenly desperate to get across to them. He’s spent a lifetime on the outside looking in. Walking home alone after school when other kids were being collected by their parents. Watching Sam take off with his older friends, tag-along younger brothers not invited. Staring through the chain-link fence of the Riverside shipyards at all the personnel of the mysterious Starfleet, that thing that had, in different ways, taken away both his parents.
He learnt that he could get other people to come to him if he played up - played up his courage, his cheek, his awesome. But it was never quite the same as being invited in. And when he woke up, hung-over and injured, whether in the wreckage of a bar or on the cold floor of a cell, his cohorts in anarchy always seemed to have mysteriously vanished. He was alone, again.
Pike invited him into Starfleet and, for all his insolence to the older man, he leapt at the chance. Bones invited him into his life and it was the grumpiest, least graceful invitation he’d ever received but he didn’t care. He’d die for Bones. But Pike has taken Bones, Boyce has taken Bones. They’ve shut him out, again….
He’s tugging so hard on the ropes he’s jerking the chair across the floor. Bones pulls off Pike’s cock, shakes his head free of the older man’s hand and turns to look at him. A level penetrating gaze from the green eyes that have always seen straight through his bullshit to his deepest secrets.
Bones turns his head to speak softly to Boyce who pulls out and rises easily to his feet, padding over to Jim. The gag is quickly released, with the ropes following soon after. Boyce kneels beside him to check his circulation, and then runs a warm hand up his thigh to rest on his abdomen. Jim hadn’t realized he’d begun to hyperventilate. Boyce pulls his head down and captures his mouth in a warm wet kiss. The man smells like Bones but feels different and it’s confusing. He strokes a hand through Jim’s sweat-damp hair. It’s an apology, fortunately a mute one. Jim couldn’t bear to hear the words.
Boyce guides him towards the chaos of quilts where Bones is lying with his head on Pike’s stomach, both men watching him. “So, time for the master to take over!” Jim quips, but his voice isn’t as steady as he’d like. He crawls up Bones’ body and buries his head against the other man’s neck. Pike spoons up behind him, a softly furred chest resting snugly against his back, a strong arm lying across him to rest on Bones’ shoulder. Phil is tucked up behind Bones and runs a hand gently up Jim’s flank.
Jim lies in the warm safe space in the middle of the pile. He’s ruining the mood, he knows it. He needs to say something witty, something cheeky. That’s what he’s known for, after all. But suddenly there is only one thing he wants to say - needs to say.
He wriggles around so that he is spooned against Bones, and facing Pike. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.
“Sorry?” queries Pike.
“For taking the Enterprise.” He stops Pike’s automatic protest. “I wanted to serve on her, you know. I told you I’d finish in three years but I didn’t tell you the rest of the plan. I was going to be so awesome that I’d get posted straight onto the Enterprise, onto the bridge crew if I possibly could. I had a whole fucking plan of how quickly I’d get to be first officer. I wanted to serve with you, I wanted to learn from you.” He stares across at Pike. “I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about but--“
Boyce interrupts, warm hand set solidly on Jim’s abdomen. “Jim, just because the big tragedies of the last weeks have been unimaginably big, that doesn’t mean that the small ones aren’t equally real.”
Pike rests his face against the top of Jim’s head, kissing the spiky hair and then brushing it back to kiss him on the forehead. “You were on my crew list, Jim. I had so much I wanted to teach you, to show you.”
Finally Jim says in a very small voice: “I’m too young to be captain.” Another long pause. “I’m going to fuck it up. I’m going to get people killed.”
Bones starts to protest but Boyce quietly silences him, whispering in his ear: “This is captain shit, Leonard. They need to talk to each other. They’ll need each other in the months to come and they’ve got to get past the Enterprise thing.
“Yes, you’ll get people killed,” says Pike bluntly. “That’s what being captain means. That doesn’t mean that you’re not going to be one of the finest captains Starfleet has ever seen.”
“Everyone throws my father in my face as what I have to live up to,” says Jim. “He was captain for ten whole minutes. What am I supposed to do in the eleventh minute, and the twelfth and all the ones after that? I’d die for my crew. That’s not so hard. How the fuck do I keep us all alive?”
“You don’t do it alone,” Pike replies, pulling Jim against his chest, rubbing his hand down the tensely-knotted back. “You’ll do it with your CMO and with your crew. You’ll do it with Phil and I backing you up back at HQ. You’ll do it with all the resources of Starfleet. If you weren’t frightened, then I’d be worried.”
Jim pushes up close to Pike, knowing there is no way he can hide the rapid breathing or the fine shivers from the other man. Pike simply holds him, continuing to stroke soothingly down his back. “I’m so tired,” whispers Jim eventually. It’s not just the voyage back or the debriefs or the press that have been exhausting.
He’s learning to run the Enterprise no more than five minutes ahead of everyone that he has to lead and brief. And with his youth and his precipitous rise, he can’t just know enough, he has to know more. Each time he meets with engineers, with designers, with suppliers, with medical staff, with crew he needs to know their job better than they do just to stop them dismissing him out of hand. He has a prodigious memory and he’s better organized now than he’s ever been but even so he’s getting by on four hours sleep a night as he preps for yet another round of meetings.
Pike ruffles his hair. “Lightweight,” he teases. “Half an hour into an orgy and you can’t keep your eyes open. What are the younger generation coming to?”
Jim flashes him a cheeky grin. His confidence is seeping back. While his higher brain function remains a little wobbly, his baser instincts are all about naked skin and sexy times. His groin is telling him happy things about finally being able to rub along a furry thigh. “The younger generation would have a better chance of doing some coming if the old codgers would talk less and fuck more.”
“You want to be fucked, Kirk?” challenges Pike.
Jim looks back into the ocean-blue eyes. They may never serve together on a ship but maybe they can have something else instead. “Yeah, old man, if you can keep it up long enough.”
“Fighting talk. Roll over. And your doctor could do with some loving after that spanking. Put that cock-sucking lips of yours to good use.”
Jim finds himself lying on his side, Pike up to the balls in his ass, rocking in a slow steady rhythm. He has his face buried between Bones’ legs, his mouth full of his lover’s ample cock, his senses filled with the scent of his man. Phil lies beside him, running warm steady hands along his flanks, tweaking his nipples, teasingly brushing over his cock.
“Phil, make him come,” orders Pike eventually, his voice breaking with his own impending orgasm. A firm hand twists authoritatively around his cock. Two deep voices talk to him: “Beautiful boy, so proud, captain, ours, come for us…”
And he spirals up into the white-heat of his climax, held as securely between the bodies of these three men as he is held in their hearts.
- Continued in FML: Going Space-Crazy -
Sequel to: FML (fuck my life), FML: the Admirals' take and FML: Protocol for an orgy
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Pike/Boyce, Kirk/McCoy and foursome mix
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mild D/s
Word Count: Around 2100
Summary: They've taken his doctor away. Jim's not happy.
Author's note: Sorry, Jim had an angsty fit so the humour got a bit lost. Tomorrow should be less intense.
___________________________________________________
Jim shifts restlessly on the hard chair. The knots make sure that there isn’t much wriggle-room. And how the hell did the Surgeon-General get this good at tying people up? What do they get up to in the medbay of deep space vessels? Which gets him thinking about what he and Bones may be able to get up to, which leads back to the annoying realization that he is up alright, up and quiveringly hopeful, but getting nothing more than a chilly breeze swirling round his aching cock, while Bones is getting the ride of his life. How the hell did that happen?
The spanking had been disconcertingly inspirational. Bones had squirmed and cursed and flailed and Pike had just kept on smacking. Boyce had lounged on a chair, legs crossed at the ankles, watching as coolly as if reviewing a vid on inter-planetary health protocols. “Enough,” he’d said eventually. “Chris, you’ll give yourself repetitive strain syndrome and try explaining that to your doctor. There are other things you could be doing with that peachy ass.” He’d thrown Pike a tube of lube.
“You do it,” Pike had replied. “My hand needs a rest. I’ll work on shutting up that pouty mouth of his.
Jim had watched, tugging against the ropes, biting down on the damned gag, as Chris had lain back in a pile of pillows and guided Bones’ head into the open V of his legs. Boyce meanwhile had cheerfully stuck two lubed fingers up to the knuckle in that reddened ass, leaving Bones swearing forcefully.
“We’ve better things for you to do with that filthy mouth,” Pike had said, grabbing Bones firmly by the hair and impaling the younger man’s face on his cock. Boyce had moved smoothly in behind, spread the thick thighs, pushed one up to the side, and shoved in hard and deep. The movement had rocked Bones forward onto Pike’s cock and he’d let out a stifled groan of such wanton abandon that Jim could feel himself jerking, leaking precome.
He’d expected them to be on their knees, with Bones kneeling between them, and it takes him a moment to realize that Pike probably can’t stay on his knees for any period of time. The man still looks so much the same - so much the invulnerable commander - that it is a shock to remember that he isn’t. He never will be again. None of them will ever be the same again.
He drags his mind away from the thought, focusing back on Bones. Pike has one hand deep in Bones’ hair, controlling him, while with the other he strokes down the side of Boyce’s face. For all they have Bones’ between them, their eyes are all for each other. Jim wants that to be him and his doctor in thirty years time. But for that to work he’s got to keep both of them alive. What if he can’t do it?
No, stay in the moment, look at Bones. This is the vision he’d wanted, his beautiful Bones solidly plugged up at both ends, a delicious fuck-toy moaning his pleasure around a mouthful of one cock as he clenches around an assful of another. He’s so often wanted to shut up Bones like this himself. Everyone calls him chatty and cheeky, but do they not listen to his doctor? Surly, grumpy, growly, always short-tempered and often as cutting as a laser scalpel with his sarcasm. Jim hopes never to let on just how much Bones can hurt him with a few swift put-downs. He also hopes never to let on how much he’s come to rely on the other man.
He’d got through the drama of defeating the Narada on adrenaline and instinct. It had been the aftermath that had been hard - the slow trickle of news of how few had escaped the other ships, the vacant stares of the psyche-damaged Vulcans, the incredulity from everyone that he was acting captain. And the challenge, day after day, of coaxing the crippled ship back towards Earth while keeping the crew disciplined, the morale less than suicidally low, and the injured and bereft tended to as best as they could. It had been Bones - with a roughly applied hypo, a gently given kiss, a cuff across the head, and a gruff promise of : “I’ve got your back, kid, now sort the rest of those fuckers out,” - that had kept him going hour after interminable hour.
And now they’ve taken Bones away from him… He pulls frantically against the ropes, suddenly desperate to get across to them. He’s spent a lifetime on the outside looking in. Walking home alone after school when other kids were being collected by their parents. Watching Sam take off with his older friends, tag-along younger brothers not invited. Staring through the chain-link fence of the Riverside shipyards at all the personnel of the mysterious Starfleet, that thing that had, in different ways, taken away both his parents.
He learnt that he could get other people to come to him if he played up - played up his courage, his cheek, his awesome. But it was never quite the same as being invited in. And when he woke up, hung-over and injured, whether in the wreckage of a bar or on the cold floor of a cell, his cohorts in anarchy always seemed to have mysteriously vanished. He was alone, again.
Pike invited him into Starfleet and, for all his insolence to the older man, he leapt at the chance. Bones invited him into his life and it was the grumpiest, least graceful invitation he’d ever received but he didn’t care. He’d die for Bones. But Pike has taken Bones, Boyce has taken Bones. They’ve shut him out, again….
He’s tugging so hard on the ropes he’s jerking the chair across the floor. Bones pulls off Pike’s cock, shakes his head free of the older man’s hand and turns to look at him. A level penetrating gaze from the green eyes that have always seen straight through his bullshit to his deepest secrets.
Bones turns his head to speak softly to Boyce who pulls out and rises easily to his feet, padding over to Jim. The gag is quickly released, with the ropes following soon after. Boyce kneels beside him to check his circulation, and then runs a warm hand up his thigh to rest on his abdomen. Jim hadn’t realized he’d begun to hyperventilate. Boyce pulls his head down and captures his mouth in a warm wet kiss. The man smells like Bones but feels different and it’s confusing. He strokes a hand through Jim’s sweat-damp hair. It’s an apology, fortunately a mute one. Jim couldn’t bear to hear the words.
Boyce guides him towards the chaos of quilts where Bones is lying with his head on Pike’s stomach, both men watching him. “So, time for the master to take over!” Jim quips, but his voice isn’t as steady as he’d like. He crawls up Bones’ body and buries his head against the other man’s neck. Pike spoons up behind him, a softly furred chest resting snugly against his back, a strong arm lying across him to rest on Bones’ shoulder. Phil is tucked up behind Bones and runs a hand gently up Jim’s flank.
Jim lies in the warm safe space in the middle of the pile. He’s ruining the mood, he knows it. He needs to say something witty, something cheeky. That’s what he’s known for, after all. But suddenly there is only one thing he wants to say - needs to say.
He wriggles around so that he is spooned against Bones, and facing Pike. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.
“Sorry?” queries Pike.
“For taking the Enterprise.” He stops Pike’s automatic protest. “I wanted to serve on her, you know. I told you I’d finish in three years but I didn’t tell you the rest of the plan. I was going to be so awesome that I’d get posted straight onto the Enterprise, onto the bridge crew if I possibly could. I had a whole fucking plan of how quickly I’d get to be first officer. I wanted to serve with you, I wanted to learn from you.” He stares across at Pike. “I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about but--“
Boyce interrupts, warm hand set solidly on Jim’s abdomen. “Jim, just because the big tragedies of the last weeks have been unimaginably big, that doesn’t mean that the small ones aren’t equally real.”
Pike rests his face against the top of Jim’s head, kissing the spiky hair and then brushing it back to kiss him on the forehead. “You were on my crew list, Jim. I had so much I wanted to teach you, to show you.”
Finally Jim says in a very small voice: “I’m too young to be captain.” Another long pause. “I’m going to fuck it up. I’m going to get people killed.”
Bones starts to protest but Boyce quietly silences him, whispering in his ear: “This is captain shit, Leonard. They need to talk to each other. They’ll need each other in the months to come and they’ve got to get past the Enterprise thing.
“Yes, you’ll get people killed,” says Pike bluntly. “That’s what being captain means. That doesn’t mean that you’re not going to be one of the finest captains Starfleet has ever seen.”
“Everyone throws my father in my face as what I have to live up to,” says Jim. “He was captain for ten whole minutes. What am I supposed to do in the eleventh minute, and the twelfth and all the ones after that? I’d die for my crew. That’s not so hard. How the fuck do I keep us all alive?”
“You don’t do it alone,” Pike replies, pulling Jim against his chest, rubbing his hand down the tensely-knotted back. “You’ll do it with your CMO and with your crew. You’ll do it with Phil and I backing you up back at HQ. You’ll do it with all the resources of Starfleet. If you weren’t frightened, then I’d be worried.”
Jim pushes up close to Pike, knowing there is no way he can hide the rapid breathing or the fine shivers from the other man. Pike simply holds him, continuing to stroke soothingly down his back. “I’m so tired,” whispers Jim eventually. It’s not just the voyage back or the debriefs or the press that have been exhausting.
He’s learning to run the Enterprise no more than five minutes ahead of everyone that he has to lead and brief. And with his youth and his precipitous rise, he can’t just know enough, he has to know more. Each time he meets with engineers, with designers, with suppliers, with medical staff, with crew he needs to know their job better than they do just to stop them dismissing him out of hand. He has a prodigious memory and he’s better organized now than he’s ever been but even so he’s getting by on four hours sleep a night as he preps for yet another round of meetings.
Pike ruffles his hair. “Lightweight,” he teases. “Half an hour into an orgy and you can’t keep your eyes open. What are the younger generation coming to?”
Jim flashes him a cheeky grin. His confidence is seeping back. While his higher brain function remains a little wobbly, his baser instincts are all about naked skin and sexy times. His groin is telling him happy things about finally being able to rub along a furry thigh. “The younger generation would have a better chance of doing some coming if the old codgers would talk less and fuck more.”
“You want to be fucked, Kirk?” challenges Pike.
Jim looks back into the ocean-blue eyes. They may never serve together on a ship but maybe they can have something else instead. “Yeah, old man, if you can keep it up long enough.”
“Fighting talk. Roll over. And your doctor could do with some loving after that spanking. Put that cock-sucking lips of yours to good use.”
Jim finds himself lying on his side, Pike up to the balls in his ass, rocking in a slow steady rhythm. He has his face buried between Bones’ legs, his mouth full of his lover’s ample cock, his senses filled with the scent of his man. Phil lies beside him, running warm steady hands along his flanks, tweaking his nipples, teasingly brushing over his cock.
“Phil, make him come,” orders Pike eventually, his voice breaking with his own impending orgasm. A firm hand twists authoritatively around his cock. Two deep voices talk to him: “Beautiful boy, so proud, captain, ours, come for us…”
And he spirals up into the white-heat of his climax, held as securely between the bodies of these three men as he is held in their hearts.
- Continued in FML: Going Space-Crazy -