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syredronningTitle: The Game Continues
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS
Codes: Kirk/McCoy, Pike/McCoy, Kirk/McCoy/Pike
Rating: NC-17, warning: kinky, bordering dub-con
Word count: 5300
Author's Note: I was prompted bycelandineb for “Pike/McCoy, forgotten”. This is a sequel to Disciplinary Measures (reading it is recommended but not required).
Thanks for the wonderful and quick beta goes tomadelf. All remaining flaws are mine.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
Summary: McCoy likes harboring grudges, and Pike is amused.
***
Pike knows that the doctor hasn't forgotten the night in which Pike had physically disciplined both Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy. He can see it in McCoy's gaze in the few courses where he's Pike's student - there isn't much overlap between command track and medical track, but Pike is the figurehead of SFA and makes sure that he's having all students in some courses of his. The doctor's eyes always linger a little bit longer on him than they should. Under other circumstances, he might call the doctor on this behavior. As it is, he's mostly amused and wondering when the moment will come in which Leonard McCoy will try and make him pay for that scene. For now, they are still professor and student and it would be bad timing, but one day, they won't be anymore.
Pike finds he's looking forward to that day.
*
"What kind of game is that?" McCoy asks bluntly as he stands in Pike's office. Pike looks up, eyeing the man (definitely a man - nothing of the typical academy kid in him).
"You're referring to -?"
"You're posting me on the Enterprise after graduation?"
"You're complaining about being posted on the flagship?" Pike asks back, extremely amused behind his guarded face. He's been expecting something like this.
"Well - no," McCoy replies, a little flustered. "I just don't see why you'd want me." There's an unvoiced question lingering behind the words, McCoy wondering whether this has something to do with that night - or Jim Kirk.
"You're the best medical officer coming out of the academy in the last ten years. Grant me a little egoism in wanting to have the best crew in the fleet."
"Hm."
"Also, Dr. Puri has personally recommended you for the free position."
"Ah." McCoy's surprised, and that amuses Pike further.
"Of course, if you still want to transfer to another ship, feel free to send me a reassignment request."
He watches McCoy’s jaw moving, patiently waiting for the question about where Jim Kirk's going to get posted, but McCoy seems to decide against it.
"I think I'm going to accept the assignment - sir." The frown that seems permanently stapled to the doctor's forehead is still there, but he's back into the Starfleet persona, standing ramrod straight.
"Good." Pike nods. "Dismissed, Cadet McCoy." He knows the doctor doesn't like to see his title dropped, but the man only turns away, probably swallowing any dumb remark on his way out. He smirks as the door closes. Today hasn't been McCoy’s day for revenge.
*
The moment he finds out that McCoy has brought a suspended Jim Kirk onto the Enterprise, he would love to repeat the discipline lesson of three years ago, but there’s a planet to save and he’s pushing the thought aside for later. He flies to the Narada, ready for his death, and is rescued by the one man who shouldn’t even be onboard his vessel. Talk about fate.
When Jim half-carries him down the Enterprise beam pad, McCoy and another man are there to catch him. Through the blur of the next few minutes, he's listening to whirling instruments and McCoy's voice without really understanding the meaning of the words. He understands that they don't want to sedate him, because the effects of the slug are completely unclear. But although he’s not really in pain at the moment, the ordeal left him too exhausted to focus on anything. He's drifting when McCoy is suddenly standing next to his head.
"Captain, we've got to operate on you," he says, and looks too damn serious for Pike's taste. "The slug's releasing a toxin that's damaging human muscle tissue. Due the position you've been held in, most of the toxin settled in your lower body but if we don't do something about it quickly, you might suffer heart failure within the next hour."
"Great," Pike manages to say, quirking a smile because he's really a bit out of it. He knows that McCoy will do everything in his power to keep him alive and that's a calming thought. McCoy briefly squeezes his hand before reaching for a hypo. "Good to know I've got the best doctor," Pike mutters, then sinks into darkness.
He wakes up some time later, strapped immobilized to his bed. McCoy is standing close to him, focusing his attention on him when he sees his open eyes.
"The surgery went well, Captain. The muscles in your legs have been damaged, but it should be only a temporary effect."
Pike only nods.
"You'll be transferred off the Enterprise and to Starfleet Medical Central in half an hour. I'll come with you and brief your doctors."
McCoy sounds professional, and a little bit compassionate maybe, and Pike's relieved to learn he'll get back on his own two feet eventually. "Good job," he says.
He’s also really sorry that fate doesn’t give him the chance to teach McCoy a painful lesson regarding the abuse of medical privileges right now.
*
'Temporary' turns out to be ten months, at least until his full recovery. That's not only because of his legs, but also because of his goddamn trauma therapy for dealing with the torture and revealing secrets under the slug’s influence that made Nero’s approach to Earth easier. He's stopped feeling like a deadbeat after a while, but he'll always remember how it was to live through it. On his lists of things that no one should suffer through, it's pretty high, and he’s been through some shit in his twenty years of Starfleet.
He meets McCoy and Kirk at a reception when they’re back for a stop on Earth, and the doctor’s congratulating him for having recovered so quickly. He suspects that McCoy’s idea of “temporary” had been even longer and is glad he wasn’t told. The two men look good, obviously thriving on their mission, and his gaze strays downwards a few times. When Kirk catches his eye, he only grins knowingly. The doctor, however, once again has that measured glare in his eyes. Pike indulges in amusing thoughts of having a little fight in the men’s restroom until they’d figure out who fucks whom, but Kirk’s hand is lingering close to McCoy’s ass and he gets the signal.
Doesn’t help his fantasies, though, and it’s only an hour later that he excuses himself and goes to the club where they had that first scene. He stands in the same room, alone with a beer in his hand, contemplating how much has changed since then. His old friend Dan has moved to the East Coast and Pike hasn’t been good at socializing over the last months. He’s always separated fun and work - except for a few unusual disciplinary measures - and he’s missing an outlet for his renewed energy.
“All alone, Admiral?” McCoy snarls.
“You followed me?” Pike asks without turning, taking a gulp from his bottle. He’s hoped for McCoy coming after him but wouldn’t have bet a dime on it.
“Been waiting too fucking long for this,” McCoy mutters. “First you’re my immediate superior, then my patient.” Pike hears the door to the main room being closed. The background noise of chatter and moans dies.
“This time, it’s just us,” Pike states, still not turning. He’s listening to the steps, calculating McCoy’s position. “What’s in your mind, McCoy? Want to give me thirty lashes, or fuck my ass instead? And where’s Jim, by the way? Wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”
“You’re a bastard, Pike. You abused your position at SFA to live out your perverted ideas. How many cadets did you do that to?”
“Not too many, since few were as fucked-up as the two of you. And you didn’t look like you were complaining last time.” Pike finally turns around, facing the man. McCoy’s well-built, but he’s a doctor, not a fighter. “Looked more like a good start to me, or were you fucking before that scene?”
McCoy laughs roughly. “No, we weren’t having sex before that. Damn you - you’ve set a standard that’s almost impossible to meet. Or do you think bastards like you drop from the sky onto our breakfast table?”
Pike smiles crookedly. “Some might.”
He sees McCoy tensing for his launch, and really, the doctor isn’t a match to him, especially not when he’s still got the old-fashioned glass bottle in hand and no qualms about using it as a baton. The beer spills over their clothes as he’s bludgeoning the man. When McCoy wakes up, he’s already lying on his back in one of the leather slings, wrists and legs tied to the chains that hold the pentagonal mat.
“Fuck you,” McCoy mutters, roughly but uselessly pulling the ropes.
“Not today.” Pike’s stroking the inner side of McCoy’s legs. “And not the other way round either.” He still leans forward, groin against groin, to yank open McCoy’s fly. He’s pulling the pants up and then nudges the underwear into the crack.
“Still a great ass,” he murmurs. “Guess you get a lot of workouts on the Enterprise.”
McCoy only glares at him.
Pike’s patting the tense cheeks, then goes and gets one of the canes that are offered in an umbrella stand in the corner.
“You know what this is for,” he says as he’s hitting the air with the cane. The whistling sound goes straight to his dick. “You brought Jim Kirk onto the Enterprise in the middle of a crisis, abusing your goddamn medical authority. You’re so damn fortunate that he was lucky and that you’re a good CMO, along with being the only guy who can rein Jim Kirk in, even a little. Otherwise you’d be getting screwed in a rehabilitation camp by now.”
“But –“
“No fucking buts, McCoy. It’s forty this time, but I’ll relieve you from counting because I’m not an ungrateful bastard.”
Pike strikes out for the first time, along the length of both cheeks, and McCoy draws in a sharp breath. He delivers strokes in groups of ten, under McCoy’s continuing cursing, and the doctor’s ass is red-striped at the end. Rather satisfied with himself, Pike puts the cane away and then walks around the doctor to search the pockets of his jeans.
“Hey –“ McCoy mutters blurry-eyed, his breathing heavy. Pike can see his underwear tenting but he keeps away from that spot. Instead, he takes out the doctor’s small communicator, flipping it open. “Hey Jim – you better come and get him before someone else does,” he states into the speaker, then closes it and puts it back in McCoy’s pocket.
“You fucking bastard.” McCoy’s tearing at the ropes and chains again as Pike starts to walk away. “You can’t just leave me here!”
“Oh, I can,” Pike replies nonchalantly. “Shouldn’t take him more than half an hour to get here. See you next time around.” He waves and leaves, McCoy’s angry shouting in his ears. Outside the room, he turns the door key and leaves it with the barkeep on his way out. “For Jim Kirk.”
The guy nods and stows it away. “Night, sir,” he mutters. Pike walks out, thinking that his fifty-five percent share of this location was the best investment ever. He also thinks about waiting for Kirk just to see what would happen, but he somehow doubts it will be more than Kirk lecturing McCoy for wanting to have Pike all for himself.
Besides, he could always watch the recordings of the security cam later.
*
He stays away from them while the Enterprise is still on Earth, and relaxes when they finally launch to their next exploratory mission. It takes another year before they meet again at another reception. This time, it’s the official partnership ceremony for Kirk and McCoy. Everyone’s dressed up very formally, and there’s plenty of food and beverages even Pike hasn’t seen before, coming with the obligatory “alcoholic” and “non-alcoholic” tags as well as long warning lists for their ingredients and species’ compatibility checks.
When he congratulates them after the ceremony, Kirk’s twinkling again, and McCoy’s mostly smiling - damn, the frown was bad enough, but with a smile, that man was downright killing him - but there’s still a hint of that glare lingering in the background.
Later, Kirk manages to get him alone. Pike’s lifting his glass. “About time you made it official, Jim. Congratulations on your good taste.”
Kirk grins. “Isn’t he the best? And I never said ‘thank you’, Admiral. It was that scene in the dungeon that has brought us together.”
“Oh, I think you would’ve managed without me. It was only a catalyst for what the two of you obviously felt for each other.”
“But what a catalyst…” Kirk dreamily looks into the air, a wonderful smile on his lips. It makes Pike envious in a way he hasn’t even thought he could feel.
“So, is McCoy still out to get my ass?” Pike asks to kill the dripping romance of the moment.
“I’m not sure but I wouldn’t want to come in the way of that particular game,” Kirk says, his trademark grin back on his face. “He took it pretty hard last time. Bitched about it for weeks, although it was his own fault for trying to tackle you alone.”
“So next time, you’re out to help him?” Pike finds that thought intriguing, although it would probably put him on the losing side; neither his strength nor his authority would be enough if these two men teamed up. But Kirk shakes his head.
“No. I really think it’s Bones’ game and he’ll manage just fine next time – if he wants to.”
“Ah.” Pike’s at loss for a good answer. “Well, I’ll see,” he says at last.
“I’ve got to take my leave, Sir. Other people want some words with me,” Kirk says with an apologizing glance at some people out of uniform – family, possibly, though Winona didn’t show up, of course.
Pike nods. “Good luck, Jim, to both of you.”
McCoy doesn’t stop by, and Pike’s almost glad about it.
Next morning, Pike sorely wishes he had a doctor nearby, because something in the drinks from the reception doesn’t agree with his stomach. It had been the chief engineer’s fault, really; he’d pulled a few of the guests into a back room where they test-run the alien beverages until three o’clock in the night. In any case, he’s sick enough to heave his guts out for two hours, and then call Starfleet Medical Central to bring him in for an emergency treatment.
The bed is hard and the doctor’s glare is obvious (admirals getting drunk isn’t reputation-building but Pike doesn’t really care right now). However, she quickly manages to bring the vomiting and general sickness under control.
“It looks like there’s also an allergic reaction,” the doctor says, looking down on him. She’s fairly young and starting with SF academy in the next trimester, as far as Pike remembers. “Did you eat or drink something unusual, sir?”
“Only about twenty-two varieties of alcohol,” Pike says, and is amused as her glare intensifies.
“Ah, you attended last night’s reception. They really should forbid things like that; we’ve had ten people calling in just because of it.”
“It was a doctor’s wedding,” Pike says.
“Must be quite an idiot,” she retorts.
“Who’s an idiot?” McCoy asks as he comes into the room. He’s out of uniform with only his CMO tag on his shirt but he exudes an air of authority, and she straightens a little.
“The doctor that got all those people drunk on some alien stuff.”
“I’ll make sure to let him know,” McCoy says with a smirk. She blushes a little.
“Your patient?” he asks and points at Pike.
“Yes, but he’s treated already. We’ll only keep him in for half an hour of supervision.”
“Good. Go and check on the others. I’ll stay here.” McCoy ushers her out of the door, then locks it behind her.
“That’s not a fair game,” Pike says lazily. “I’m sure it’s against regulations of SFM to mistreat patients in their hospital.”
“You’re not my patient, and you seem pretty recovered to me. Not everyone survived Scotty’s invitation so unscathed.” McCoy’s gaze on Pike is unnerving.
Pike knows that he’s got to get out of the bed now and rolls over and launches over its edge. The floor is pretty hard under his knees and his stomach lurches harder than he would’ve thought. He curls over as bile threatens to rise in his throat.
“Now, relax,” McCoy’s voice resounds above him, and strong doctor’s hands pull him up and back on the bed. “You’ve just gone through a rapid detox. You shouldn’t move too quickly.”
“You shouldn’t lay your hands on a superior officer,” Pike states, trying to look in control.
“Don’t try to pull that shit on me, Admiral,” McCoy snaps and flips him on his stomach. His guts complain again, and he’s breathing harshly to control the motion sickness. Once he succeeds, he notices that his hands and legs are tied to the bed frame with medical restraints.
“We both know this will never make it into the record, because that would mean bringing up all of it, and that would ruin your career like nothing else.”
Pike snorts. He fucking knows, and he doesn’t want to think of that because it’s really only a game to him and he wants to enjoy it. McCoy pulls his pants over his ass, exposing it to the cooler air of the room. It’s going to be the doctor’s moment, after all.
“Let’s see.” McCoy rummages around the room, opening the few cabinets. “Damn Medical doesn’t have anything for proper treatment,” Pike can hear him mutter at last, and then the tell-tale sound of a belt being pulled out of belt loops can be heard. He inhales deeply, bracing himself for the impact. But it doesn’t come right away.
“It’s been thirty and forty, right?” McCoy states, clearly not wanting an answer. “That would be seventy, but I’m a doctor and I don’t have time to spend all morning with just one case.” Pike’s breath hitches when the belt is teasingly pulled over his ass cheeks. “So, I think the thirty will be it. And I want to hear you counting.”
Fuck, that hurts, Pike thinks as he arches into the first blow, the heavy belt biting his skin like nothing in the last years. He’s fighting for control, not wanting to give McCoy the satisfaction of hearing him whimper. He also really doesn’t want to count, fucking hell, but he gives in after ten because he’s sure McCoy will keep going for the full thirty counted strikes. And this bastard knows how to beat the shit out of him.
Pike’s sweaty and shivering when it’s over, his ass one overheated, aching area. He can feel the growing welts and the typical, taut feeling on his skin. He can also feel his hard-on digging into the mattress, and he hasn’t been so turned on in ages. McCoy’s walking around him and removing the cuffs.
“Guess we’re even now,” Pike says, his voice a little unsteady as he sits up with his pants still dangling on his upper thighs. He brushes through his hair, as if this could help him make look more respectable and composed.
“Yeah, guess so,” McCoy says. The doctor’s looking almost neat but for his flushed face and the large bulge right below his shirt.
There’s regret in their voices.
McCoy unlocks the door and leaves Pike with a last nod of his head. Pike pulls himself together, nudging his stiff erection into his pants.
Great showdown, he thinks, and already misses the game.
*
It’s two years later, and Kirk and McCoy are sitting in front of him in his office. They’re in some shit over some stupid decisions on their last mission and Pike can’t hold back from thinking some very inappropriate thoughts while he’s staring down on his PADD to recount the events. They’d probably have to go through some fact-finding committee, something which Captain Pike had hated to no end whenever it happened to him - and no captain got away without at least one of these investigations.
But now he was an admiral and supposed to get all serious on this brilliant captain and his hot CMO for having fucked with the Prime Directive.
He’d rather fuck them instead.
He sighs and puts the PADD away.
“Guilty as charged,” Kirk says, and Pike frowns.
“If you plead guilty, they might take away your captaincy. I cannot support that. You’ll plead not guilty when you’re facing the commission.”
“But I fucked up,” Kirk says.
“No, it was me,” McCoy states, frowning at his captain. “I gave medical help to these people, even though it was a direct violation of the Prime Directive.”
“And I supported it. So if anything, we’re in it together.”
Pike looks from one to the other. They are still young for their positions but he can see the toll the last years have taken on them - the deeper lines, the sharper wrinkles, and most of them not caused by laughing.
“You can feel guilty all you want to, but you’re not going to throw away your careers over this, gentlemen,” Pike states.
Kirk’s chin lifts up a little, and suddenly, there’s that twinkle.
“No way,” Pike says pointedly. He’s stopped doing that shit for a while now and he isn’t going to start with this particular disciplinary measure again.
“But what we did really warrants a punishment, and if you don’t want to go through official channels, maybe –“
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“I fully support Jim’s idea,” McCoy suddenly says. “We need to be punished - we want to be punished. We did fuck up after all.”
“You’re crazy, both of you.” Pike glares at them but they seem unapologetic in the face of his accusation.
“That’s strong, coming from you,” Kirk says, the smirk intensifying. He leans a little forward. “You can’t imagine how much we thought of you over the last years,” he murmurs, his gaze meeting Pike’s fully. “Your scene has delivered the ground for dozens of kinky fantasies. So, it’s really a little late to regret anything.”
It’s the most tempting thing since the day McCoy had tied him to the bed in SFM Central, and Pike can feel the pang of heat in his groin. He knows that he really, really shouldn’t take them up on this offer, because… well, because of something to do with regulations and chains of command and because it is really sick to even think of ordering Captain James T. Kirk to drop his pants. But they just sit there, Kirk with his grin and McCoy with his lips slightly open and one arching brow, their gazes challenging, and he’s never been one to pass up a great game.
He voice-locks the door.
“Pants down, boots off,” he orders. “Both of you.” They comply quickly, and he uses the moment to disengage the room’s security cams and set his messenger to quiet alert. When he looks up again, they’re standing in front of his office desk, stripped naked below the waist. Seeing their erections bobbing right below their uniform tops is a damn hot picture and Pike inhales deeply before he gets up and walks around the desk. “Bend over,” he orders. They lean over the desk side by side, down on their folded arms, and automatically spread their legs a little.
“Sluts,” he mutters and slaps each ass.
“Yes, sir.”
He still has a cane in his office, just for old time’s sake. It’s been unused for years and it’s rather brittle by now, but it’s still working and he’s working their asses with it. He doesn’t give a number this time, only says that he’s going to beat them until he’s sure they don’t do the same shit again – that gives him leeway to adapt to their needs. He beats them in a regular rhythm, not too hard, not too gentle. Sometimes his hand pats a thigh, rubs over a cheek, and when he steps back once in a while, he can see their erections jutting out from under the edge of the table. They’ve moved a little, two of their hands laced together now, and they’re breathing heavily, some of it from the pain, more of it from being turned-on, Pike can tell. He quickens his pace and brings them to the edge of their endurance, finishing them off with ten hard strikes each. Then he orders them up. When they turn around, their faces are flushed and showing some rather shit-eating grins. Their dicks are impossibly hard and inviting, but that’s the limit he’s had in these games, no genital touch.
He should have known that’s exactly the limit they want to push him over.
“Get dressed and get your asses out of my office,” he says.
“Sir –“ Kirk says, exchanging a quick glance with McCoy – “you’re sure you’re done with us?”
“Very sure,” Pike replies sternly, frowning a little as Kirk’s gaze drifts down his body.
“I’m pretty sure we’ve fucked up enough to warrant a little more than just a cane this time,” Kirk says and tilts his pelvis invitingly, making it rather clear what he has in mind.
“You’re sick shit, Captain Kirk.”
“I learned from the best,” Kirk retorts.
Pike catches Kirk by surprise as he’s lacing his right hand into the man’s hair, pulling him close to his lips before he snarls at him, “What’s going in your mind, tell me. You want me to bend you over the table and get my dick up your ass? Or even better, I could order McCoy to bend you over and fuck you, and then I’ll get my dick up his ass? That’s something you’d like? Tell me!”
“Fuck, yes,” Kirk answers breathlessly, eyes half-closed.
“I’m starting to think that the two of you have set up this whole problem just to get called into my office,” Pike murmurs as he catches McCoy’s intense gaze from the sidelines.
Kirk grins but shakes his head. “’Bit too risky.”
“Bend over,” Pike snaps and spins Kirk around and against the table. “Legs apart. Farther!” He kicks the lower legs, spreading them to the sides. “Hands behind your head.” Kirk shifts and obeys, his chin now pressed against the tabletop, hidden behind the folded arms.
Pike doesn’t have lube but he’s got a hand lotion in his desk (he’s a bit vain but it pays off now) and retrieves it for McCoy. “Lube yourself up and fuck him, slowly.” McCoy seems a little lost in the moment, so Pike adds sharply, “I’m sure you don’t need further directions here, doctor?”
“No, sir,” McCoy mutters and carries on, gasping as he’s distributing the lotion onto his dick with his own hands. Then he’s behind Jim Kirk and unceremoniously presses in. They bend over the table together with a heart-felt moan. McCoy’s going on slow, as ordered, his freshly caned ass clenching when he shifts forward. It gives Pike time to open his own pants and get his erection out. He slicks his dick before he playfully nudges the erection between McCoy’s taut cheeks, taking his time. He’s wanted to do this for years. Now that he’s actually doing it, he almost can’t believe it.
McCoy pushes back against him, clearly wanting more, and so he concentrates on finding the entry, guiding his hard-on into the body in front of him. It’s a tight spot and not an optimal angle because the doctor’s so tall, but this is still better than his fantasies.
Pike moves, slow but faster than McCoy, soon controlling the rhythm of this sandwich. When he’s pressing, he’s pushing McCoy into Jim Kirk, and when he’s pulling back, hands on McCoy’s hips, he can hear the moan of the man on the table. He’s setting the pace; he’s calling the shots, fucking these two bastards in a way they’ve never been fucked before.
Fuck, yes.
He’s riding them, making them ride each other, going faster and harder until he’s at his own limit and his muscles start complaining about the unusual activity. For a while he’s able to ignore the strain, keeping his hands tightly around McCoy’s hips, hammering his groin against the red cheeks - then he’s suddenly close to coming.
“Jerk him off,” Pike orders breathlessly, and McCoy immediately leans forward, one hand on Kirk’s shoulder, the other one reaching around Kirk’s waistline. They soon stagger in their rhythm as they start tumbling towards orgasm, Kirk being the first to come. Pike sees red and stars and then almost blanks out when he’s coming, irregularly jutting into the doctor’s body, thinking goddamn best ass he’s ever fucked. When he notices that McCoy hasn’t come yet, he pulls out, tears the doctor away from Jim and pushes him down on the floor.
“What the hell -?” McCoy mutters but stops asking when Pike kneels down between his spread legs and takes the full length in his mouth, one hand firmly around the base to stop him from coming, the other one shoved in his dripping ass.
Pike goes on mercilessly, sucking and fucking as slowly as possible to keep McCoy on the edge until he’s begging for release, hands clamped into the carpet, all muscles tense. When Pike finally allows him to come, McCoy’s shooting off with a deep, beautiful groan that dies into a whimper when Pike’s lapping off the last spurts of sperm. Then he crawls over McCoy and kisses him thoroughly.
That’s when Pike’s suddenly being caught by his conscience, shitty timing, and he looks up to find Jim Kirk leaning on the desk, his hand cradling a renewed erection. “I always knew you had the hots for him,” Kirk says and smirks. Pike would like to dispute that but he can’t; it’s something about McCoy being persistently obstinate and contrary that turns him on and fed one too many fantasies about having the man under his control, begging like he’s just done.
“You love a good challenge as much as I do,” Kirk adds knowingly.
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” McCoy mutters, too spent to sound really grouchy. Pike’s taken by surprise as McCoy laces his hands in his hair and pulls him down into another wet kiss, their tongues battling. Now he was the one to moan.
Shit, he’s really got it bad.
Eventually they split up and get off the floor. Pike’s looking at Jim Kirk, wondering if this whole thing will get complicated now. “You look fucking hot together,” is all Kirk says, and releases the grip on his own dick.
Seems Jim Kirk doesn’t do jealousy. At least not much – only when they’re dressed and waiting for McCoy to return from the restroom so that they could move somewhere else, Kirk’s looking at him and saying, “You know that this is a package deal.”
“I’ve never assumed anything else,” Pike replies. McCoy is something special, but he’d never throw Kirk out of his bed either. Seeing Kirk getting fucked a few more times would hopefully heal Pike from those damn fatherly feelings that currently get in the way of sex with the man (definitely a man now - nothing left of the beaten-up kid in that bar in Iowa).
“Good.”
McCoy’s back, looking at them with a light frown. “You ready?” he asks, and there’s a lot more in the question than just their dinner plans.
“Whenever you are,” Pike replies.
“Sure, Bones.” Kirk walks into their middle, lacing his arms into theirs. “Damn, I’m hungry,” he says, and steers them out of Pike’s office.
***
Next Part: Rochade
Author:
syredronning aka Acidqueen Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS
Codes: Kirk/McCoy, Pike/McCoy, Kirk/McCoy/Pike
Rating: NC-17, warning: kinky, bordering dub-con
Word count: 5300
Author's Note: I was prompted by
celandineb for “Pike/McCoy, forgotten”. This is a sequel to Disciplinary Measures (reading it is recommended but not required). Thanks for the wonderful and quick beta goes to
madelf. All remaining flaws are mine.Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
Summary: McCoy likes harboring grudges, and Pike is amused.
***
Pike knows that the doctor hasn't forgotten the night in which Pike had physically disciplined both Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy. He can see it in McCoy's gaze in the few courses where he's Pike's student - there isn't much overlap between command track and medical track, but Pike is the figurehead of SFA and makes sure that he's having all students in some courses of his. The doctor's eyes always linger a little bit longer on him than they should. Under other circumstances, he might call the doctor on this behavior. As it is, he's mostly amused and wondering when the moment will come in which Leonard McCoy will try and make him pay for that scene. For now, they are still professor and student and it would be bad timing, but one day, they won't be anymore.
Pike finds he's looking forward to that day.
*
"What kind of game is that?" McCoy asks bluntly as he stands in Pike's office. Pike looks up, eyeing the man (definitely a man - nothing of the typical academy kid in him).
"You're referring to -?"
"You're posting me on the Enterprise after graduation?"
"You're complaining about being posted on the flagship?" Pike asks back, extremely amused behind his guarded face. He's been expecting something like this.
"Well - no," McCoy replies, a little flustered. "I just don't see why you'd want me." There's an unvoiced question lingering behind the words, McCoy wondering whether this has something to do with that night - or Jim Kirk.
"You're the best medical officer coming out of the academy in the last ten years. Grant me a little egoism in wanting to have the best crew in the fleet."
"Hm."
"Also, Dr. Puri has personally recommended you for the free position."
"Ah." McCoy's surprised, and that amuses Pike further.
"Of course, if you still want to transfer to another ship, feel free to send me a reassignment request."
He watches McCoy’s jaw moving, patiently waiting for the question about where Jim Kirk's going to get posted, but McCoy seems to decide against it.
"I think I'm going to accept the assignment - sir." The frown that seems permanently stapled to the doctor's forehead is still there, but he's back into the Starfleet persona, standing ramrod straight.
"Good." Pike nods. "Dismissed, Cadet McCoy." He knows the doctor doesn't like to see his title dropped, but the man only turns away, probably swallowing any dumb remark on his way out. He smirks as the door closes. Today hasn't been McCoy’s day for revenge.
*
The moment he finds out that McCoy has brought a suspended Jim Kirk onto the Enterprise, he would love to repeat the discipline lesson of three years ago, but there’s a planet to save and he’s pushing the thought aside for later. He flies to the Narada, ready for his death, and is rescued by the one man who shouldn’t even be onboard his vessel. Talk about fate.
When Jim half-carries him down the Enterprise beam pad, McCoy and another man are there to catch him. Through the blur of the next few minutes, he's listening to whirling instruments and McCoy's voice without really understanding the meaning of the words. He understands that they don't want to sedate him, because the effects of the slug are completely unclear. But although he’s not really in pain at the moment, the ordeal left him too exhausted to focus on anything. He's drifting when McCoy is suddenly standing next to his head.
"Captain, we've got to operate on you," he says, and looks too damn serious for Pike's taste. "The slug's releasing a toxin that's damaging human muscle tissue. Due the position you've been held in, most of the toxin settled in your lower body but if we don't do something about it quickly, you might suffer heart failure within the next hour."
"Great," Pike manages to say, quirking a smile because he's really a bit out of it. He knows that McCoy will do everything in his power to keep him alive and that's a calming thought. McCoy briefly squeezes his hand before reaching for a hypo. "Good to know I've got the best doctor," Pike mutters, then sinks into darkness.
He wakes up some time later, strapped immobilized to his bed. McCoy is standing close to him, focusing his attention on him when he sees his open eyes.
"The surgery went well, Captain. The muscles in your legs have been damaged, but it should be only a temporary effect."
Pike only nods.
"You'll be transferred off the Enterprise and to Starfleet Medical Central in half an hour. I'll come with you and brief your doctors."
McCoy sounds professional, and a little bit compassionate maybe, and Pike's relieved to learn he'll get back on his own two feet eventually. "Good job," he says.
He’s also really sorry that fate doesn’t give him the chance to teach McCoy a painful lesson regarding the abuse of medical privileges right now.
*
'Temporary' turns out to be ten months, at least until his full recovery. That's not only because of his legs, but also because of his goddamn trauma therapy for dealing with the torture and revealing secrets under the slug’s influence that made Nero’s approach to Earth easier. He's stopped feeling like a deadbeat after a while, but he'll always remember how it was to live through it. On his lists of things that no one should suffer through, it's pretty high, and he’s been through some shit in his twenty years of Starfleet.
He meets McCoy and Kirk at a reception when they’re back for a stop on Earth, and the doctor’s congratulating him for having recovered so quickly. He suspects that McCoy’s idea of “temporary” had been even longer and is glad he wasn’t told. The two men look good, obviously thriving on their mission, and his gaze strays downwards a few times. When Kirk catches his eye, he only grins knowingly. The doctor, however, once again has that measured glare in his eyes. Pike indulges in amusing thoughts of having a little fight in the men’s restroom until they’d figure out who fucks whom, but Kirk’s hand is lingering close to McCoy’s ass and he gets the signal.
Doesn’t help his fantasies, though, and it’s only an hour later that he excuses himself and goes to the club where they had that first scene. He stands in the same room, alone with a beer in his hand, contemplating how much has changed since then. His old friend Dan has moved to the East Coast and Pike hasn’t been good at socializing over the last months. He’s always separated fun and work - except for a few unusual disciplinary measures - and he’s missing an outlet for his renewed energy.
“All alone, Admiral?” McCoy snarls.
“You followed me?” Pike asks without turning, taking a gulp from his bottle. He’s hoped for McCoy coming after him but wouldn’t have bet a dime on it.
“Been waiting too fucking long for this,” McCoy mutters. “First you’re my immediate superior, then my patient.” Pike hears the door to the main room being closed. The background noise of chatter and moans dies.
“This time, it’s just us,” Pike states, still not turning. He’s listening to the steps, calculating McCoy’s position. “What’s in your mind, McCoy? Want to give me thirty lashes, or fuck my ass instead? And where’s Jim, by the way? Wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”
“You’re a bastard, Pike. You abused your position at SFA to live out your perverted ideas. How many cadets did you do that to?”
“Not too many, since few were as fucked-up as the two of you. And you didn’t look like you were complaining last time.” Pike finally turns around, facing the man. McCoy’s well-built, but he’s a doctor, not a fighter. “Looked more like a good start to me, or were you fucking before that scene?”
McCoy laughs roughly. “No, we weren’t having sex before that. Damn you - you’ve set a standard that’s almost impossible to meet. Or do you think bastards like you drop from the sky onto our breakfast table?”
Pike smiles crookedly. “Some might.”
He sees McCoy tensing for his launch, and really, the doctor isn’t a match to him, especially not when he’s still got the old-fashioned glass bottle in hand and no qualms about using it as a baton. The beer spills over their clothes as he’s bludgeoning the man. When McCoy wakes up, he’s already lying on his back in one of the leather slings, wrists and legs tied to the chains that hold the pentagonal mat.
“Fuck you,” McCoy mutters, roughly but uselessly pulling the ropes.
“Not today.” Pike’s stroking the inner side of McCoy’s legs. “And not the other way round either.” He still leans forward, groin against groin, to yank open McCoy’s fly. He’s pulling the pants up and then nudges the underwear into the crack.
“Still a great ass,” he murmurs. “Guess you get a lot of workouts on the Enterprise.”
McCoy only glares at him.
Pike’s patting the tense cheeks, then goes and gets one of the canes that are offered in an umbrella stand in the corner.
“You know what this is for,” he says as he’s hitting the air with the cane. The whistling sound goes straight to his dick. “You brought Jim Kirk onto the Enterprise in the middle of a crisis, abusing your goddamn medical authority. You’re so damn fortunate that he was lucky and that you’re a good CMO, along with being the only guy who can rein Jim Kirk in, even a little. Otherwise you’d be getting screwed in a rehabilitation camp by now.”
“But –“
“No fucking buts, McCoy. It’s forty this time, but I’ll relieve you from counting because I’m not an ungrateful bastard.”
Pike strikes out for the first time, along the length of both cheeks, and McCoy draws in a sharp breath. He delivers strokes in groups of ten, under McCoy’s continuing cursing, and the doctor’s ass is red-striped at the end. Rather satisfied with himself, Pike puts the cane away and then walks around the doctor to search the pockets of his jeans.
“Hey –“ McCoy mutters blurry-eyed, his breathing heavy. Pike can see his underwear tenting but he keeps away from that spot. Instead, he takes out the doctor’s small communicator, flipping it open. “Hey Jim – you better come and get him before someone else does,” he states into the speaker, then closes it and puts it back in McCoy’s pocket.
“You fucking bastard.” McCoy’s tearing at the ropes and chains again as Pike starts to walk away. “You can’t just leave me here!”
“Oh, I can,” Pike replies nonchalantly. “Shouldn’t take him more than half an hour to get here. See you next time around.” He waves and leaves, McCoy’s angry shouting in his ears. Outside the room, he turns the door key and leaves it with the barkeep on his way out. “For Jim Kirk.”
The guy nods and stows it away. “Night, sir,” he mutters. Pike walks out, thinking that his fifty-five percent share of this location was the best investment ever. He also thinks about waiting for Kirk just to see what would happen, but he somehow doubts it will be more than Kirk lecturing McCoy for wanting to have Pike all for himself.
Besides, he could always watch the recordings of the security cam later.
*
He stays away from them while the Enterprise is still on Earth, and relaxes when they finally launch to their next exploratory mission. It takes another year before they meet again at another reception. This time, it’s the official partnership ceremony for Kirk and McCoy. Everyone’s dressed up very formally, and there’s plenty of food and beverages even Pike hasn’t seen before, coming with the obligatory “alcoholic” and “non-alcoholic” tags as well as long warning lists for their ingredients and species’ compatibility checks.
When he congratulates them after the ceremony, Kirk’s twinkling again, and McCoy’s mostly smiling - damn, the frown was bad enough, but with a smile, that man was downright killing him - but there’s still a hint of that glare lingering in the background.
Later, Kirk manages to get him alone. Pike’s lifting his glass. “About time you made it official, Jim. Congratulations on your good taste.”
Kirk grins. “Isn’t he the best? And I never said ‘thank you’, Admiral. It was that scene in the dungeon that has brought us together.”
“Oh, I think you would’ve managed without me. It was only a catalyst for what the two of you obviously felt for each other.”
“But what a catalyst…” Kirk dreamily looks into the air, a wonderful smile on his lips. It makes Pike envious in a way he hasn’t even thought he could feel.
“So, is McCoy still out to get my ass?” Pike asks to kill the dripping romance of the moment.
“I’m not sure but I wouldn’t want to come in the way of that particular game,” Kirk says, his trademark grin back on his face. “He took it pretty hard last time. Bitched about it for weeks, although it was his own fault for trying to tackle you alone.”
“So next time, you’re out to help him?” Pike finds that thought intriguing, although it would probably put him on the losing side; neither his strength nor his authority would be enough if these two men teamed up. But Kirk shakes his head.
“No. I really think it’s Bones’ game and he’ll manage just fine next time – if he wants to.”
“Ah.” Pike’s at loss for a good answer. “Well, I’ll see,” he says at last.
“I’ve got to take my leave, Sir. Other people want some words with me,” Kirk says with an apologizing glance at some people out of uniform – family, possibly, though Winona didn’t show up, of course.
Pike nods. “Good luck, Jim, to both of you.”
McCoy doesn’t stop by, and Pike’s almost glad about it.
Next morning, Pike sorely wishes he had a doctor nearby, because something in the drinks from the reception doesn’t agree with his stomach. It had been the chief engineer’s fault, really; he’d pulled a few of the guests into a back room where they test-run the alien beverages until three o’clock in the night. In any case, he’s sick enough to heave his guts out for two hours, and then call Starfleet Medical Central to bring him in for an emergency treatment.
The bed is hard and the doctor’s glare is obvious (admirals getting drunk isn’t reputation-building but Pike doesn’t really care right now). However, she quickly manages to bring the vomiting and general sickness under control.
“It looks like there’s also an allergic reaction,” the doctor says, looking down on him. She’s fairly young and starting with SF academy in the next trimester, as far as Pike remembers. “Did you eat or drink something unusual, sir?”
“Only about twenty-two varieties of alcohol,” Pike says, and is amused as her glare intensifies.
“Ah, you attended last night’s reception. They really should forbid things like that; we’ve had ten people calling in just because of it.”
“It was a doctor’s wedding,” Pike says.
“Must be quite an idiot,” she retorts.
“Who’s an idiot?” McCoy asks as he comes into the room. He’s out of uniform with only his CMO tag on his shirt but he exudes an air of authority, and she straightens a little.
“The doctor that got all those people drunk on some alien stuff.”
“I’ll make sure to let him know,” McCoy says with a smirk. She blushes a little.
“Your patient?” he asks and points at Pike.
“Yes, but he’s treated already. We’ll only keep him in for half an hour of supervision.”
“Good. Go and check on the others. I’ll stay here.” McCoy ushers her out of the door, then locks it behind her.
“That’s not a fair game,” Pike says lazily. “I’m sure it’s against regulations of SFM to mistreat patients in their hospital.”
“You’re not my patient, and you seem pretty recovered to me. Not everyone survived Scotty’s invitation so unscathed.” McCoy’s gaze on Pike is unnerving.
Pike knows that he’s got to get out of the bed now and rolls over and launches over its edge. The floor is pretty hard under his knees and his stomach lurches harder than he would’ve thought. He curls over as bile threatens to rise in his throat.
“Now, relax,” McCoy’s voice resounds above him, and strong doctor’s hands pull him up and back on the bed. “You’ve just gone through a rapid detox. You shouldn’t move too quickly.”
“You shouldn’t lay your hands on a superior officer,” Pike states, trying to look in control.
“Don’t try to pull that shit on me, Admiral,” McCoy snaps and flips him on his stomach. His guts complain again, and he’s breathing harshly to control the motion sickness. Once he succeeds, he notices that his hands and legs are tied to the bed frame with medical restraints.
“We both know this will never make it into the record, because that would mean bringing up all of it, and that would ruin your career like nothing else.”
Pike snorts. He fucking knows, and he doesn’t want to think of that because it’s really only a game to him and he wants to enjoy it. McCoy pulls his pants over his ass, exposing it to the cooler air of the room. It’s going to be the doctor’s moment, after all.
“Let’s see.” McCoy rummages around the room, opening the few cabinets. “Damn Medical doesn’t have anything for proper treatment,” Pike can hear him mutter at last, and then the tell-tale sound of a belt being pulled out of belt loops can be heard. He inhales deeply, bracing himself for the impact. But it doesn’t come right away.
“It’s been thirty and forty, right?” McCoy states, clearly not wanting an answer. “That would be seventy, but I’m a doctor and I don’t have time to spend all morning with just one case.” Pike’s breath hitches when the belt is teasingly pulled over his ass cheeks. “So, I think the thirty will be it. And I want to hear you counting.”
Fuck, that hurts, Pike thinks as he arches into the first blow, the heavy belt biting his skin like nothing in the last years. He’s fighting for control, not wanting to give McCoy the satisfaction of hearing him whimper. He also really doesn’t want to count, fucking hell, but he gives in after ten because he’s sure McCoy will keep going for the full thirty counted strikes. And this bastard knows how to beat the shit out of him.
Pike’s sweaty and shivering when it’s over, his ass one overheated, aching area. He can feel the growing welts and the typical, taut feeling on his skin. He can also feel his hard-on digging into the mattress, and he hasn’t been so turned on in ages. McCoy’s walking around him and removing the cuffs.
“Guess we’re even now,” Pike says, his voice a little unsteady as he sits up with his pants still dangling on his upper thighs. He brushes through his hair, as if this could help him make look more respectable and composed.
“Yeah, guess so,” McCoy says. The doctor’s looking almost neat but for his flushed face and the large bulge right below his shirt.
There’s regret in their voices.
McCoy unlocks the door and leaves Pike with a last nod of his head. Pike pulls himself together, nudging his stiff erection into his pants.
Great showdown, he thinks, and already misses the game.
*
It’s two years later, and Kirk and McCoy are sitting in front of him in his office. They’re in some shit over some stupid decisions on their last mission and Pike can’t hold back from thinking some very inappropriate thoughts while he’s staring down on his PADD to recount the events. They’d probably have to go through some fact-finding committee, something which Captain Pike had hated to no end whenever it happened to him - and no captain got away without at least one of these investigations.
But now he was an admiral and supposed to get all serious on this brilliant captain and his hot CMO for having fucked with the Prime Directive.
He’d rather fuck them instead.
He sighs and puts the PADD away.
“Guilty as charged,” Kirk says, and Pike frowns.
“If you plead guilty, they might take away your captaincy. I cannot support that. You’ll plead not guilty when you’re facing the commission.”
“But I fucked up,” Kirk says.
“No, it was me,” McCoy states, frowning at his captain. “I gave medical help to these people, even though it was a direct violation of the Prime Directive.”
“And I supported it. So if anything, we’re in it together.”
Pike looks from one to the other. They are still young for their positions but he can see the toll the last years have taken on them - the deeper lines, the sharper wrinkles, and most of them not caused by laughing.
“You can feel guilty all you want to, but you’re not going to throw away your careers over this, gentlemen,” Pike states.
Kirk’s chin lifts up a little, and suddenly, there’s that twinkle.
“No way,” Pike says pointedly. He’s stopped doing that shit for a while now and he isn’t going to start with this particular disciplinary measure again.
“But what we did really warrants a punishment, and if you don’t want to go through official channels, maybe –“
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“I fully support Jim’s idea,” McCoy suddenly says. “We need to be punished - we want to be punished. We did fuck up after all.”
“You’re crazy, both of you.” Pike glares at them but they seem unapologetic in the face of his accusation.
“That’s strong, coming from you,” Kirk says, the smirk intensifying. He leans a little forward. “You can’t imagine how much we thought of you over the last years,” he murmurs, his gaze meeting Pike’s fully. “Your scene has delivered the ground for dozens of kinky fantasies. So, it’s really a little late to regret anything.”
It’s the most tempting thing since the day McCoy had tied him to the bed in SFM Central, and Pike can feel the pang of heat in his groin. He knows that he really, really shouldn’t take them up on this offer, because… well, because of something to do with regulations and chains of command and because it is really sick to even think of ordering Captain James T. Kirk to drop his pants. But they just sit there, Kirk with his grin and McCoy with his lips slightly open and one arching brow, their gazes challenging, and he’s never been one to pass up a great game.
He voice-locks the door.
“Pants down, boots off,” he orders. “Both of you.” They comply quickly, and he uses the moment to disengage the room’s security cams and set his messenger to quiet alert. When he looks up again, they’re standing in front of his office desk, stripped naked below the waist. Seeing their erections bobbing right below their uniform tops is a damn hot picture and Pike inhales deeply before he gets up and walks around the desk. “Bend over,” he orders. They lean over the desk side by side, down on their folded arms, and automatically spread their legs a little.
“Sluts,” he mutters and slaps each ass.
“Yes, sir.”
He still has a cane in his office, just for old time’s sake. It’s been unused for years and it’s rather brittle by now, but it’s still working and he’s working their asses with it. He doesn’t give a number this time, only says that he’s going to beat them until he’s sure they don’t do the same shit again – that gives him leeway to adapt to their needs. He beats them in a regular rhythm, not too hard, not too gentle. Sometimes his hand pats a thigh, rubs over a cheek, and when he steps back once in a while, he can see their erections jutting out from under the edge of the table. They’ve moved a little, two of their hands laced together now, and they’re breathing heavily, some of it from the pain, more of it from being turned-on, Pike can tell. He quickens his pace and brings them to the edge of their endurance, finishing them off with ten hard strikes each. Then he orders them up. When they turn around, their faces are flushed and showing some rather shit-eating grins. Their dicks are impossibly hard and inviting, but that’s the limit he’s had in these games, no genital touch.
He should have known that’s exactly the limit they want to push him over.
“Get dressed and get your asses out of my office,” he says.
“Sir –“ Kirk says, exchanging a quick glance with McCoy – “you’re sure you’re done with us?”
“Very sure,” Pike replies sternly, frowning a little as Kirk’s gaze drifts down his body.
“I’m pretty sure we’ve fucked up enough to warrant a little more than just a cane this time,” Kirk says and tilts his pelvis invitingly, making it rather clear what he has in mind.
“You’re sick shit, Captain Kirk.”
“I learned from the best,” Kirk retorts.
Pike catches Kirk by surprise as he’s lacing his right hand into the man’s hair, pulling him close to his lips before he snarls at him, “What’s going in your mind, tell me. You want me to bend you over the table and get my dick up your ass? Or even better, I could order McCoy to bend you over and fuck you, and then I’ll get my dick up his ass? That’s something you’d like? Tell me!”
“Fuck, yes,” Kirk answers breathlessly, eyes half-closed.
“I’m starting to think that the two of you have set up this whole problem just to get called into my office,” Pike murmurs as he catches McCoy’s intense gaze from the sidelines.
Kirk grins but shakes his head. “’Bit too risky.”
“Bend over,” Pike snaps and spins Kirk around and against the table. “Legs apart. Farther!” He kicks the lower legs, spreading them to the sides. “Hands behind your head.” Kirk shifts and obeys, his chin now pressed against the tabletop, hidden behind the folded arms.
Pike doesn’t have lube but he’s got a hand lotion in his desk (he’s a bit vain but it pays off now) and retrieves it for McCoy. “Lube yourself up and fuck him, slowly.” McCoy seems a little lost in the moment, so Pike adds sharply, “I’m sure you don’t need further directions here, doctor?”
“No, sir,” McCoy mutters and carries on, gasping as he’s distributing the lotion onto his dick with his own hands. Then he’s behind Jim Kirk and unceremoniously presses in. They bend over the table together with a heart-felt moan. McCoy’s going on slow, as ordered, his freshly caned ass clenching when he shifts forward. It gives Pike time to open his own pants and get his erection out. He slicks his dick before he playfully nudges the erection between McCoy’s taut cheeks, taking his time. He’s wanted to do this for years. Now that he’s actually doing it, he almost can’t believe it.
McCoy pushes back against him, clearly wanting more, and so he concentrates on finding the entry, guiding his hard-on into the body in front of him. It’s a tight spot and not an optimal angle because the doctor’s so tall, but this is still better than his fantasies.
Pike moves, slow but faster than McCoy, soon controlling the rhythm of this sandwich. When he’s pressing, he’s pushing McCoy into Jim Kirk, and when he’s pulling back, hands on McCoy’s hips, he can hear the moan of the man on the table. He’s setting the pace; he’s calling the shots, fucking these two bastards in a way they’ve never been fucked before.
Fuck, yes.
He’s riding them, making them ride each other, going faster and harder until he’s at his own limit and his muscles start complaining about the unusual activity. For a while he’s able to ignore the strain, keeping his hands tightly around McCoy’s hips, hammering his groin against the red cheeks - then he’s suddenly close to coming.
“Jerk him off,” Pike orders breathlessly, and McCoy immediately leans forward, one hand on Kirk’s shoulder, the other one reaching around Kirk’s waistline. They soon stagger in their rhythm as they start tumbling towards orgasm, Kirk being the first to come. Pike sees red and stars and then almost blanks out when he’s coming, irregularly jutting into the doctor’s body, thinking goddamn best ass he’s ever fucked. When he notices that McCoy hasn’t come yet, he pulls out, tears the doctor away from Jim and pushes him down on the floor.
“What the hell -?” McCoy mutters but stops asking when Pike kneels down between his spread legs and takes the full length in his mouth, one hand firmly around the base to stop him from coming, the other one shoved in his dripping ass.
Pike goes on mercilessly, sucking and fucking as slowly as possible to keep McCoy on the edge until he’s begging for release, hands clamped into the carpet, all muscles tense. When Pike finally allows him to come, McCoy’s shooting off with a deep, beautiful groan that dies into a whimper when Pike’s lapping off the last spurts of sperm. Then he crawls over McCoy and kisses him thoroughly.
That’s when Pike’s suddenly being caught by his conscience, shitty timing, and he looks up to find Jim Kirk leaning on the desk, his hand cradling a renewed erection. “I always knew you had the hots for him,” Kirk says and smirks. Pike would like to dispute that but he can’t; it’s something about McCoy being persistently obstinate and contrary that turns him on and fed one too many fantasies about having the man under his control, begging like he’s just done.
“You love a good challenge as much as I do,” Kirk adds knowingly.
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” McCoy mutters, too spent to sound really grouchy. Pike’s taken by surprise as McCoy laces his hands in his hair and pulls him down into another wet kiss, their tongues battling. Now he was the one to moan.
Shit, he’s really got it bad.
Eventually they split up and get off the floor. Pike’s looking at Jim Kirk, wondering if this whole thing will get complicated now. “You look fucking hot together,” is all Kirk says, and releases the grip on his own dick.
Seems Jim Kirk doesn’t do jealousy. At least not much – only when they’re dressed and waiting for McCoy to return from the restroom so that they could move somewhere else, Kirk’s looking at him and saying, “You know that this is a package deal.”
“I’ve never assumed anything else,” Pike replies. McCoy is something special, but he’d never throw Kirk out of his bed either. Seeing Kirk getting fucked a few more times would hopefully heal Pike from those damn fatherly feelings that currently get in the way of sex with the man (definitely a man now - nothing left of the beaten-up kid in that bar in Iowa).
“Good.”
McCoy’s back, looking at them with a light frown. “You ready?” he asks, and there’s a lot more in the question than just their dinner plans.
“Whenever you are,” Pike replies.
“Sure, Bones.” Kirk walks into their middle, lacing his arms into theirs. “Damn, I’m hungry,” he says, and steers them out of Pike’s office.
***
Next Part: Rochade
