Fic: "Make Me Believe," Star Trek Big Bang, Part 3 of 3
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A light knock sounded on his office door-actually, his doorway. Chris looked up, and Jim Kirk-Captain Jim Kirk-stood there, a couple weeks after the Enterprise got back. "Captain Kirk," he said. "Office hours are normally for students, but of course you're welcome to come in."
"I checked with your yeoman," Kirk said as he came into the room and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite the desk. "You don't have any appointments this afternoon, sir."
"No, I'm free," Chris said. "I'd stand, but I had PT at lunchtime and my legs are made of rubber. How are you?" He was rather proud of the fact that he could say that without wincing or any attempt at self-deprecation.
"I'm fine," Jim said, but pressed his lips together briefly. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted," Chris said, the response automatic, but he frowned. What on Earth was this about?
"I'm not here as Captain Kirk," Jim said. "I'm here as Jim, and I need to talk to-Chris," he said, the name falling awkwardly between them.
"Okay," Chris said, drawing the second vowel out. "What's going on here, Jim?"
"I've never had to have this conversation before, for a long list of reasons, and I'm not really comfortable with having this conversation with my former academic advisor, but I think the traditional thing to say here is, 'If you break his heart, I'll kick your ass.'" Jim winced. "Not that I would actually kick your ass because that's not fair, but I think you get my point."
"Ah, yes," Chris said. Outwardly he didn't move, but inside his mind, he was screaming, Yes!
The nearly-palpable awkwardness extended for only a few seconds before Jim said, "Now can we pretend this conversation never happened?"
"No," Chris said. "I think I'm required to tell you that I have no intention of breaking his heart, first. Or at least not on purpose."
"I knew I forgot something," Jim said, and they both laughed.
"Look, I don't even know if-I haven't-god, Jim, you're pretty close to the last person I want to discuss this with," Chris said.
"I know," Jim said. "And god knows I don't want to be here either, but Bones is my best friend and, I don't know. It's like I feel responsible for him or something." He shuddered theatrically. "Anyway, got that over with. Um. Sports? Weather?"
The painfully-earnest look on his face caused Chris to break out in real laughter, and Jim joined in a minute or two later.
* * *
It probably didn't say much about his half-formed protest to Jim that he had Dr. McCoy's clinic schedule memorized, or that he rescheduled his appointment with Liz such that he'd be leaving Starfleet Medical at roughly the same time as Dr. McCoy. That is, assuming Liz didn't find any reason to keep him over, as if psychotherapy were some sort of detention.
He told himself that he wasn't fourteen and he should probably just comm the man and ask him to dinner or something, but if he did that, he'd probably find himself discussing it with Liz and that he very much wanted to avoid.
Which is why he ended up discussing it with Liz.
"Wait, let me get this straight," Liz said, the glee in her voice unmistakable. "You rescheduled your psych appointment so you might have the opportunity to run into someone, who you decline to name." She suppressed a grin poorly. "Can't you just comm him?"
Chris leaned forward and put his head into his hands. "I'm regressing. Can't you do something about that?"
"I can dial his number for you," she said, still trying very hard not to smile. She held out her hand, as if she actually expected him to put his comm unit into it.
Well, there went his dignity, and his ability to pretend that, oh, the entire Federation didn't know. Hell, the Klingons probably knew, as well.
"You want to leave early and wait outside the door?" she suggested.
He sat up enough to give her most of a very rude gesture in Andorian (he lacked the antennae to complete it), and she almost fell off her seat laughing.
"But seriously," Liz said a minute or two later, after she'd regained her composure. "It's good to see you seriously considering a romantic relationship with so much confidence."
He sighed. "It's bullshit," he said. "All of it."
"All of what?"
"I'm sure you can guess."
"I can, but you're supposed to tell me. Didn't we establish this a while ago?"
Chris sighed again. "I have no way of knowing if he's going to think the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. Since he doesn't know all the drawbacks."
"Who ever does?" Liz said. "I guess the only way you'll know is if you ask him."
"God, that sucks," he said, groaning.
"Yes," Liz said. "Most of us discovered this at age thirteen."
"Which was, what, last year, for you?"
It was her turn to give him a rude gesture.
* * *
Chris did not wait outside any door, nor did he leave his appointment early, but he did run into McCoy outside Starfleet Medical.
Actually, he didn't so much run into McCoy as 'found McCoy waiting for him,' closer to the exit from the psych wing than the general exit. His stomach plummeted into his shoes, but the only thing he said was, "Do you have dinner plans, Dr. McCoy?"
"Not yet," McCoy said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Sir."
"Drop the sir, and I might be able to fix that."
"Drop the 'Doctor,' and I might say yes," McCoy retorted, and then actually physically took a step back. "That is."
Chris was startled into a laugh, but gestured with his free hand in the general direction of town. "Come on; let's go. Thai food okay?"
"Mexican instead?" McCoy said.
"Indian?" Chris countered. "I got overdosed on Mexican food when I lived with Phil and Alicia."
"Indian's fine. Alicia cooks a lot?" McCoy asked as they started walking to the transit stop.
"No, Phil. Mexican's the only cuisine he doesn't fuck up. Seriously, the man can make damn fine enchiladas but burns spaghetti."
McCoy laughed, as expected.
They only had to wait for a minute or two for the bus to come by, and the ride itself was only five or ten minutes. In fact, it was probably shorter to walk, but Chris resolutely put that fact out of his head.
They got to the Dancing Ganesha, and being that it was a Wednesday night, the place was almost deserted. At Chris's direction, they got a small table with chairs, because they were easier for him to get into and out of. The cane stood unobtrusively in the corner.
They placed their orders, and Chris was ripping the corner off a piece of naan when McCoy said, "Look, Admiral Pike-"
"Chris," he said, interrupting. "Or 'Pike' if you can't manage that."
"Chris," McCoy said, frowning at him. "I know Jim talked to you, and now we're here, and all I can ask is, what's going on?"
Oh. The flippant answer of, 'We're eating dinner' came to his mind first, but McCoy deserved better than that. Well, fuck. He didn't want to do this, but he should. He took a sip of water and flicked his eyes to the corners of the room briefly.
McCoy was still looking at him levelly, and Chris took another breath, careful not to sigh. "I'm interested in you."
McCoy nodded but didn't say anything.
"I'm abysmally terrible at this," Chris said, sort of as an aside, but also as a warning.
McCoy rolled his eyes at that, but still didn't say anything.
"No, I mean it. I've got three spectacularly failed relationships-in thirty years, which should tell you something. To boot, I'm twenty years older and three ranks higher than you, as well as being a patient of yours. My hair's been gray so long I almost can't remember what color it was originally. My nervous system doesn't work right, and that's not even talking about my brain." He sighed. "And like I said, I'm awful at-this stuff. I tend to get buried in work, and I forget anniversaries and birthdays and that all my Saturday nights from here on out should be date nights, not work-late nights. But you-you make me want to try again."
"Former patient," McCoy said, a full, terrifying minute later. "I signed off on being your doctor the minute I turned you over to Dr. Boyce on Earth."
"Ah, yeah, Phil mentioned that," Chris said, nonplussed.
"As to the rest-" McCoy sighed himself. "I'm gonna be on a starship with Jim Kirk for a while."
"I know," Chris said, still not sure where McCoy was going.
"Do you know why my ex-wife ditched me?"
Chris shook his head.
"Because, unsurprisingly, when stuff all went to hell, I got buried in work and started ignoring her."
"Okay," Chris said, "so we've got that in common. Possibly not a good thing."
McCoy smiled, one-sided and only about half sarcastic. "No, but it means we have a fighting chance of understanding each other. About the rank differences-you're not my patient, and I'm not in your chain of command. I don't know enough about those particular regulations to know what we're supposed to do or not do-"
"They're purposefully vague," Chris admitted. "Mostly they can be used to prosecute in the case of something going horribly wrong, but otherwise, if everyone's consenting and of age, Starfleet doesn't care."
"Ah," McCoy said. "And I'm guessing you've figured out that I don't particularly care about the age gap."
"I was coming to that conclusion, yes," Chris said. But he still hadn't said-
"What does that leave?"
"Everything else." Why was it so hard to say the word 'disability'? Chris put his hands on the table instead of in his lap and relaxed enough to let the omnipresent fine tremor show.
"Oh," McCoy said, a rueful look on his face as his gaze dropped to Chris's hands. He raised his eyes back to Chris's and said, "You really think that was going to matter to me?"
A giant weight that he didn't know was there lifted off of Chris's chest, and he felt his face get warm briefly, and then cool off. "I had no way of knowing," he said. "I'm not paid to believe the best of people."
"No, I guess not," McCoy said. He looked down at his own hands for a moment, and then back up. "Dr. Boyce has been sending me regular updates on your health. I'll tell him to stop, but I need you to tell me what I need to know."
"I can do that." I think. Maybe. "But not in the middle of a restaurant."
The food came then, conveniently, and Chris neatly avoided the rice and spooned his saag aloo onto naan instead.
McCoy didn't say anything at first, but asked a few bites in, "Okay if I eat rice?"
"If not, it's too late now," Chris said, but he smiled so McCoy would know it was a joke. "Nope, doesn't bother me."
By some sort of unspoken agreement, they avoided the topic of-them-for the rest of the meal. Instead, Chris regaled McCoy with tales of students, and McCoy told stories of Kirk at the Academy and then on the Enterprise.
"For what it's worth," McCoy said at one point, "I almost asked Jim to turn the ship around when I heard that one of the neural grafts didn't take, and it wasn't because I didn't trust Dr. Boyce to do the surgery."
"It's worth a fair amount, thanks," Chris said, and smiled.
He insisted on paying the bill, citing his astronomically-high pay grade, and McCoy acquiesced surprisingly gracefully.
"I can probably walk home, if we go slowly enough," Chris offered, as they stood outside the restaurant. "It would be easier to talk."
McCoy swallowed his first response, and said, "All right," instead.
It took a couple blocks of silence before Chris could speak. "There are two problems," he said.
McCoy nodded.
"Obviously you know what happened, so you know some of the physical effects, and the CRPS. I don't have a ton of stamina." He paused, and smiled. "Correction. Let me rephrase that. I'm fifty-two years old, so I've definitely got stamina in that department."
McCoy huffed a quiet laugh.
"I just can't stand for very long without support. Or kneel, walk, et cetera. I'll have to do physical therapy for the rest of my life to keep the secondary effects of the CRPS from happening-the degeneration, mostly-and some days the physical therapy is so exhausting I just fall over asleep as soon as I get home. My hands shake, and my manual dexterity is at about eighty-five percent, according to the experts, although I was above average before so you might not notice any difference. Well-you're a surgeon. You might."
"Probably not," McCoy said. "Don't care anyway. Go on."
"I'm pretty much always in some amount of pain, and if I take enough of the painkillers so that I'm not, I'm practically comatose. I'm not entirely sure how that's going to affect things, but it will." Chris tightened his grip around the handle of the cane, and stuffed his other hand-shaking noticeably-in his pocket.
"You don't know?" McCoy asked, glancing at him.
"Well, all right, I do, somewhat," Chris said. This part was a little more uncomfortable, and he hadn't even gotten to all the psychological stuff. "I thought it would be better if I were a little more prepared for the physical aspect of a relationship." Actually, Liz had suggested it, in what was actually the most embarrassing conversation of their professional relationship, but he'd agreed.
"Sex surrogate?" McCoy asked.
"Yes."
"Did it help?"
"Yes. I'm capable of-" What on Earth was he supposed to say here? "Sex. Arousal, erection, orgasm-the plumbing basically works. Within limits." Kind of. On good days. If nothing went wrong. "Look, it's probably easier to tell you what I can't do." He took a deep breath, pausing for a moment.
McCoy stopped and turned to face him, and Chris could practically feel the need to touch, to help, to heal, radiating off of him. "Do you want me to ask instead?"
"No," Chris said, and coughed. "No. But you can touch me."
It wasn't actually the first time McCoy had touched him; obviously, in the course of having been his patient, they'd been in physical contact. It was, however, one of the rare times that Chris had been touched by anyone non-therapeutically, who wasn't Phil or Alicia, in the last year, and certainly the first time he'd been touched by a potential lover in longer than he cared to admit.
None of that explained why McCoy's hand felt so warm against his upper arm, even though the two layers of uniform he was wearing.
"We don't have to talk about this now," McCoy said, voice low and intimate.
Chris sighed. "We probably should, or at least before anything happens."
McCoy frowned, but Chris held up a hand. "No, I actually mean anything."
McCoy dropped his hand from Chris's arm.
Chris rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry for not being clear. This is-" He sighed. "I've managed to send myself into a panic attack with a toothbrush before, and don't ask me about flossing. I don't do well with things in my mouth."
"Okay," McCoy said.
"I'm sure you can extrapolate what that means."
"No rice with takeout?"
Chris smiled. "Something like that."
"So, I'm guessing the rice is because of the texture, and toothbrushes, flossing, fingers, spoons, et cetera is because they're foreign objects?"
"Yeah, that's about it," Chris said. "Somewhere I have a list of foods that are usually okay; you can have a copy if you're interested. But more importantly, I think I've just eliminated first and third bases, so . . ." He spread his hands.
"Now, see, with that opening line, I should suggest goin' straight to second," McCoy said, his accent deepening. Chris thought it was probably intentional. "But my mama raised me proper, and I'd never say anything like that to someone I actually liked."
Chris laughed, surprisingly relieved. "Come on, Rhett Butler; walk me home."
"Hate that movie," McCoy muttered under his breath. He started to offer Chris his arm, but stopped, and locked his hands behind his back instead.
"Oh, fuck that," Chris said, quite clearly, and circled to McCoy's other side, where he could offer his free hand.
McCoy took it without any stupid questions; it was dark enough that Chris could see that he smiled and not much else. "Stepping up to bat?"
"Might as well," Chris said, and immediately felt stupid. On the other hand, in retrospect, it was only the second or third most ridiculous way he'd ever gotten into a relationship. Of course, he couldn't think of anything to say to make it sound less like he was only in it for the convenience factor-about as far from the truth as possible-so he stayed quiet.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, before McCoy said, "Anything else we need to talk about right away?"
"Probably," Chris said, "but I'm tired enough for one day." He'd meant emotionally-hell of a roller coaster he'd been on-but he realized he was also physically tired after he said that. All of a sudden, his limbs felt twice as heavy as usual, and he-well, he didn't quite stumble, but it was close.
"You're in Glenn Hall, right?" McCoy said, catching him under the elbow.
Chris nodded.
"That's about five blocks from here. Gonna make it?"
It would be so easy to get defensive here-I said I could before, didn't I?-but he'd had a year of Liz and Phil reminding him that there was really no point in being an asshole for shit like this. Chris managed to take a deep breath, assess his physical state as objectively as he could, and say, "Yes, although we won't be setting any land-speed records."
They didn't, unless someone kept records for how slow a human being could walk and still be moving forward. After a block or so, the leaden feeling evaporated from his limbs, and he felt considerably better, at least back to where he'd been. Chris didn't miss any more steps, and McCoy tried not to hover and generally succeeded.
They didn't say much until they reached Chris's door, still on the third floor; Starfleet had offered him a first-floor apartment, but people walking by outside weren't worth the convenience of less travel time.
"So you've walked me to my door," Chris said lightly, although his pulse was racing. "Going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me to say hi to my parents?"
"It would be the gentlemanly thing to do," McCoy said, holding himself a handspan away, shoulders stiff.
"Are we going to the junior prom next month, then?" Chris asked, and without waiting for a response, grabbed a handful of McCoy's shirt, pulling him close enough to kiss.
And kiss they did-no tongues but not in the least chaste. McCoy's hands hesitated for a moment before resting lightly on Chris's waist; Chris's hands flattened against McCoy's chest before sliding over his shoulders.
He wondered just for a moment why a minimal five-centimeter height difference meant he had to take the more vulnerable position, but then realized he actually needed the support, and shut down that line of thinking quickly.
"So what color was your hair?" McCoy asked, low in his ear, after the kiss came to a natural end and they were merely standing in the hall, clinging to each other for all the world to see. (Or at least all of Chris's neighbors, who weren't around anyway.)
Chris laughed gently, and said, "Come on in for a second." He didn't doubt that McCoy already knew-it was probably in his file if nothing else-but he pulled away, palmed open the door, walked over to the end table by the couch, and picked up a holoframe. He waited for a moment until the set of pictures cycled back to the beginning, and then handed it to McCoy.
Who looked at it, eyebrow raised. "Who's that in the picture with you?" he asked.
"Don't recognize him?" Chris asked, grinning as he propped himself up against the wall. "Wait a minute or two."
McCoy did, and when the look of recognition dawned a few moments later, Chris's grin broadened.
"Why, yes, Dr. McCoy, that is your boss." The whole holoframe was full of pictures of him and Phil over the years, mostly taken by Alicia, but she was in a few of them.
"Quite a pair, the two of you," McCoy said, neutrally.
"Yeah," Chris said, and took the frame back, replacing it on the end table. "It's never a bad thing if the CMO and the captain are close."
"Not exactly what I meant," McCoy muttered, again under his breath.
Chris heard him quite clearly, and laughed. "You, me, couch," he said, pointing.
"You mean-"
"You know what," Chris said, deliberately interrupting, "I don't know what's going to happen. It's never been worth the possibility of panic and throwing up and injury to find out before this."
He had no idea what it said about either of them that McCoy apparently processed that as a romantic statement. McCoy's face softened, the lines in his forehead from the perpetual scowl smoothing away, and he held out a hand.
Despite the fact that, as McCoy grumbled, they were two grown-ass men and it wasn't that big of a couch, they managed to arrange themselves in a way beneficial to both. Which meant Chris was on top, legs loosely tangled with McCoy's, hands on his shoulders as they kissed.
It was getting easier, the whole kissing-without-tongues thing, although it vaguely felt like he was in middle school again. "Is this working for you?" he asked, after a few minutes.
In response, McCoy shifted his hips, and Chris felt-oh, yes-McCoy was hard. "That answer your question?"
Instead of answering, he nibbled the side of McCoy's neck, and yes, he could do this.
McCoy's hands dropped to Chris's back, and then down to his rear end. "Oh, god, McCoy," Chris said on a groan, and then frowned, pushing up to look at his face. "McCoy? Leonard?"
"Leonard's fine," McCoy said, and sat up for another kiss.
"I think somewhere in here," Chris murmured sleepily, some time later, "I'm supposed to ask you if there's anything I need to know about you."
McCoy's-Leonard's-chest shook briefly with a silent chuckle. "No, nothing in particular that you don't already know," he said. "World's most boring sexual history. Some fun in college, and then married my high school sweetheart. Had a kid, got divorced, came off to Starfleet Academy, and was unfortunately too busy and exhausted to fuck around most of the time."
"And since then?"
"Nothin'." Leonard shifted. "Tested clean, if you wondered."
"Good to know. Obviously you know my entire medical history. Or close enough."
"Yep."
"No one, really?" Chris asked.
"Wasn't worth it," Leonard said, and Chris felt him shrug. "I knew what-who-I actually wanted."
"Ah." A pause, and then, "You do mean me, right?"
"Nope. You haven't been an admiral long enough. Barnett, now, there's a guy-"
Chris rolled his eyes and smacked McCoy on the shoulder, not hard.
"Other than that," Leonard said, "if you can deal with my personality, the fact that I've got a ten-year-old daughter, and the fact that I can't get rid of Jim Kirk no matter how I try, I think we'll do okay."
"I can't get rid of him either," Chris said, with a sigh that turned into a yawn. "And Joanna's cute, and I happen to think your personality is a bonus."
Leonard laughed again. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"She likes you, I think."
"Oh?" Chris asked.
"That is, she told me it was totally gross to see me flirting with someone and I shouldn't ever do it again in front of her, but that you seemed nice enough."
Chris laughed. "I'll take it."
A few companionably-silent minutes later, Leonard shifted again. "I should probably get going," he said, and the reluctance in his tone was immensely gratifying. "You're falling asleep on me."
"But you're so comfortable," Chris said in protest, but managed, with Leonard's unobtrusive help, to rearrange himself so he was sitting on one corner of the couch.
Leonard swung his legs so that he was sitting on the couch as well, and started putting his shoes back on. "I don't have any shifts this weekend," he said, as he retied the laces.
"Neither do I," Chris said. "Friday evening? Dinner and a movie, or something else traditional?"
Leonard snorted. "Hoping I'll put out at the end of the night?"
"Yes, please. Should I bring flowers?" Chris tried to keep his tone light, even as he balled his hands into fists to hide the shaking.
"No need," Leonard said, and held out a hand.
Chris took it, leaning into his side. God, Leonard smelled good, like Indian food and something woodsy and a little bit like hospital antiseptic. He wanted to lick the other man's neck, but exhaustion was dragging him down. Oh well. Friday night. "Can I see you tomorrow anyway?"
"Yeah, sure," Leonard said. "Lunch, dinner? Or," he said, wincing, "something that has nothing to do with food?"
"Lunch is fine," Chris said. He got his feet under him and saw Leonard to the door. One last kiss and a clinging press of bodies, and the door swooshed shut behind Leonard.
God, that had been good. As tired as he was, he was still elated-he almost wanted to dance around the apartment, as undignified as that was.
He didn't, although he allowed himself a brief celebratory fist-pump.
* * *
They skipped the movie.
One breathless kiss at the door, and Chris said, chest heaving, "I don't know if I can wait that long."
"Me neither," Leonard said. The relief mixed with desire written on his face was gratifying.
The only reason they didn't skip dinner was because Leonard hadn't eaten lunch. "You know," Chris said, as they ate take-out deli sandwiches quickly in his living room, "if you'd just bothered to grab a peanut-butter sandwich, we could be naked by now." He set his sandwich down and unfastened his jacket, not missing how McCoy watched.
"I try not to eat dinner naked," Leonard drawled a moment or so later, licking mayonnaise off his fingers. "Unhygienic."
"Awww," Chris said. He felt-buoyant: light-hearted, or something. Confident, maybe. This part-after he knew they were going to end up in bed-this part, he knew what to do. He could tease and seduce with the best of them, once it was a sure thing. He tried very hard to concentrate on that part and ignored the fact that he had no idea what was going to happen once they actually were in bed.
Leonard finished his sandwich and chips first; Chris ate more slowly, as he didn't want to set himself off. Eventually, though, he set aside the last bite, slugged down the end of the protein shake he'd had in lieu of chips or pretzels (both iffy), and scrubbed his hands on his pants. "Done?" he asked hopefully.
"I am," Leonard said. "What now?"
Chris raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, no," Leonard said. "You're the one directing the proceedings."
"Oh, I get to be on top?" Chris said, grinning.
"If you want," Leonard said, sprawling against the back of the sofa, letting his knees fall wide.
Normally Chris didn't really care what other men were wearing, because it all looked good on the floor, but damn, McCoy really made tailored slacks and an Oxford look appealing. Moreso when the shirt was pulled taut against his chest and the pants pulled taut against his-
Chris's mouth went dry. "There's a very strong chance," he managed a moment or so later, "that we won't even make it that far."
"That's fine," Leonard said. He stood and collected the detritus from dinner, dropping it in the 'cycler, before stopping in front of Chris and holding out his hands.
Chris stared at them for a moment; he'd never allowed anyone other than Phil to help him up that way, preferring to push up on his own strength or, better yet, not sit in a chair low enough to require help. On the other hand, it was Leonard. Chris took his hands.
Apparently he'd been paying attention; Leonard merely tensed his muscles and braced himself, rather than trying to pull. A moment later, they were almost nose-to-nose; would have been, except for the five centimeters McCoy had on him. Chris shook his head mentally. He'd apparently been sleeping with too many short people if it bothered him every time he ran up against it. So to speak. "Bedroom?" he said, voice sounding strange in his ears, lower and rougher than usual.
"Yes, please."
Starfleet didn't issue large apartments, even to admirals, so the trip to the bedroom probably shouldn't have taken five minutes. But it did, and Leonard's hair was adorably ruffled by the time they got there. Once inside, lights ordered to fifty percent, Chris watched Leonard scan over the bed pushed up against the wall, the stack of hyposprays and pill bottles on the dresser, and the wheelchair neatly folded up in one corner.
Or maybe he was looking at the stack of padds on the bedside table, the boring green plaid comforter, and the not-Starfleet-issue dresser Chris had rescued from a garage sale and refinished ten years ago. It was hard to tell, without asking, and he wasn't sure he wanted to ask.
"At least it's a queen-sized bed?" he said, trying to make a joke.
"The only thing disappointing about your bed is that we're not in it already," Leonard said.
Oh. He could get used to this-the low, simmering heat in Leonard's voice, and the way his dark eyes seemed only to get darker. Dropping his hands to Leonard's waist, he tugged the tails of his shirt out of his pants, and started unbuttoning the shirt from the bottom. Leonard unbuttoned his own collar and cuffs, and when their hands met in the middle, he laughed and pulled both the shirt and its accompanying t-shirt over his head without undoing the final, middle button.
It ruffled his hair more than it had been, and Leonard tried vainly to settle it back in order as Chris laughed. "It's just going to get messed up more."
"Doesn't stop it from feeling weird," Leonard said.
"Looks cute," Chris said.
Leonard snorted. "Well, I guess I'll take what I can get."
"Lose more clothing, and I'll see what I can do about the compliments."
Leonard cocked an eyebrow. "Ditto."
Chris felt his face grow warm; he'd avoided thinking about what he looked like since the Narada, despite Phil's reassurance that since he'd gained back most of the weight, he looked fine, and he would not start now. Besides . . . "Nothing you haven't seen."
"I may have seen," Leonard said, "but I wasn't lookin'." His fingers, oddly warm, stole under Chris's jacket, and slipped it off his shoulders.
Yeah, he knew. Speaking of looking, Leonard was standing in front of him shirtless and he'd barely spared the man a glance. Travesty.
Well, also, looking at McCoy distracted him from the fact that gentle fingers were sliding under his hem and removing his shirt.
So he let himself be distracted, tracing the planes of Leonard's chest and shoulders with eyes and fingers, following the line of his collarbone and remembering where a touch made him shiver.
"You like the slow reveal," Leonard asked as he threw Chris's shirt out of the way, "or do we unwrap everything at once and sort it all out once we're horizontal?"
"Yes," Chris said promptly. "Slow reveal for you, fast for me."
Leonard laughed. "No; not fair."
"Who says?" He reached out and grabbed Leonard's belt, pulling to close the space between them. Proving why he'd been elevated to the rank of captain significantly younger than average, he managed to kiss Leonard even while undoing his belt and the button and fly of the pants. He pushed the fabric over McCoy's hips, letting it pool around his ankles, and left him in only his underwear.
Apparently that meant fast and furious to Leonard, because in under a minute, they'd managed to strew all remaining clothing in a trail from the door to the bed. Chris barely managed to push the covers on the bed down to the foot before he found himself lying on his side, facing Leonard.
And that was when he froze. "Hi," he said.
"Oh, no, you don't," Leonard said, and wrapped an arm around his waist, hauling him against him. Almost instantly he released him and said, "I'm sorry. I mean-"
"No, you were right," Chris said. I can do this. "Don't touch my wrists, don't pin me down, nothing in my mouth-everything else should be fine. That was just-"
"An uncharacteristic moment of hesitation?" Leonard suggested.
Chris shrugged, which probably looked a bit odd.
"How about this for reassurance?" Leonard said, and carefully found Chris's hand, placing it on his-oh, wow.
"That's-very reassuring," Chris said after he recovered his brainpower. He wrapped his fingers around Leonard's cock and stroked from root to tip.
Leonard gasped. "Good." His hand went over Chris's for a moment, stilling it. "Just remember, if something isn't working for you, or doesn't work for you, tell me, and we'll try something else or we'll stop. Okay?"
"Yes, yes," Chris said, but he couldn't keep himself from smiling. He couldn't even manage to drop one side of his mouth to make it ironic instead of just sweet.
Leonard smiled back, also sweet. "Good," he said. "Now, you can get back to that, if you want."
"Do you want to get off this way?" Chris asked as he started stroking again.
"Well, sure," Leonard said, and gasped as Chris ran a thumb over the head. "But not quite yet."
"Mmm. Okay." Chris nudged Leonard's shoulder until he lay mostly-flat on the bed, keeping his other hand still on Leonard's cock. He may not be able to use his mouth the way he wanted, but he could still use it-to nibble at McCoy's collarbone, to dart his tongue into the intraclavicular notch and taste the sweat that had already started to gather there.
Leonard gasped again, his hips pressing upward into Chris's hand, and skimmed a hand over Chris's back before resting lightly against his neck.
That-felt strange. Chris let go of Leonard's cock briefly to move his hand up onto his head, fingers in his hair, and then returned to his ministrations. Ahh, better. He looked up at McCoy's face, and the other man's eyes were closed, lips parted.
Fuck. He wanted to lick every centimeter of the man, and blow him, and fuck him through the mattress-all at the same time-and he couldn't, at least not right now, and that was shitty, but goddamn it, he could fucking do something.
He flipped over and straddled one of Leonard's thighs, his own cock-hard, oh god hard, and he'd barely noticed-pressed into the hollow of his hip as Leonard's cock was pressed into his, and cupped McCoy's face with his hands. "I'm going to make this good," he said.
"Never had a moment of doubt," Leonard said.
"That makes one of us," Chris muttered under his breath, and bit the side of Leonard's neck, right where it met his shoulder. It wasn't hard enough to leave a mark, but it was definitely hard enough to make McCoy groan.
The sound, especially because he could feel it rumble through his chest, made Chris smile, and he sat up enough to run his hands in long, sweeping strokes over Leonard's shouders and arms.
Leonard was a little bigger through the shoulders than Chris was himself; his chest hair was considerably more sparse, although that wasn't saying much. Of course, he was also twenty years younger and in excellent health and physical condition, so Chris should probably quit with the mental comparisons if he wanted to salvage any self-esteem. Rather, he concentrated on the sensation of Leonard's skin under his hands, warm and faintly rough where he had body hair.
McCoy made quiet humming noises when he was pleased, apparently. He also was ticklish along his ribs, but very much liked having the hair below his navel scratched gently. His hands were ridiculously sensitive, and when Chris scraped his teeth over the center of his palm, he just about jackknifed off the bed.
"Good?" Chris asked, just to confirm.
"God, yes." Leonard's voice was rough, his accent out in full force, and Chris could not wait one more minute.
He rolled off, threaded his right arm under the pillow that held Leonard's head, and licked Leonard's earlobe. "Do you want me to talk, or no?" he asked, "and do you want me to grab the lube?"
"Talk, yes, if you can; lube, no, not necessary."
Chris laughed, low and dark. "I can talk." He reached down, cupped Leonard's balls in his hand, briefly rolling, and then wrapped his hand around his cock.
Leonard groaned and turned his head to press his lips against Chris's forehead briefly. "Go on," he said.
"Mmm," Chris said, and squeezed before he started stroking. "You look amazing like this, you know?" he said. "Naked, sweaty, hard, spread out in my bed."
Leonard hmmed back, his cock jumping in Chris's hand.
"Ah, you like that?" Chris said, and swiped his thumb over the head again, this time catching a drop of pre-come. "Good, because I definitely do. Like this. Like you." He was veering toward the inane, if not overly sentimental, so he switched gears back to the more sensual. "And I'm definitely going to like watching you come for me."
McCoy's eyes squeezed shut, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
"Sometime soon," Chris said, "I'm going to like sliding inside of you, and watching you below me." He sped up his motions just a bit. "Believe me, I'll like that quite a bit. Even thinking about it-" He scraped his teeth against Leonard's neck, and caught a drop of sweat on his tongue. "Fuck."
"God, yes," Leonard said again, dragging a hissing breath in through his teeth. His fingers flexed against the sheets, grabbing handfuls of the bedding.
Chris pushed himself a little more firmly against Leonard's side, slinging a leg over his, and increased his speed a little more. "You have no idea how much I want to see you at that moment, when you lose all control. How much I want to hear you, whether you make a quiet gasp or whether you scream my name-I want to know. And I want to know soon."
"Close," Leonard said through clenched teeth.
His body was starting to shake; Chris watched his head tip back and his lips part as he hauled in deep breaths. Chris pressed his lips to Leonard's neck briefly and then propped himself up just enough to see his face.
"Leonard," he said, putting just a little of the command tone into his voice, "I want you to come for me. Now."
And Leonard did, gasping out a strangled, "Chris!" as his back arched and he came all over Chris's hand and his own chest.
Chris kept touching him, gently, until Leonard relaxed somewhat, and then wiped his hand off on the sheet.
Leonard turned his head, and kissed Chris, brief but strong. "How are you so good at that?" he asked, voice low and lazy and intensely satisfied.
Chris laughed. "I've always been good at talking people into things."
"That you are." Leonard shifted, realigning himself against Chris. "Just give me a moment here."
Chris paused for a moment, and then said, "Take all the time you need." Fuck.
"Mmm," Leonard said. "What is it?"
Chris shifted his hips and pushed up against Leonard's hip in answer. "Not hard anymore," he said, probably unnecessarily.
"So?" Leonard asked. "It'll happen again, or it won't."
Chris frowned, and looked at Leonard. "How are you so nice?" he asked without thinking, and winced. "I mean-that didn't come out right."
Leonard laughed. "No, I understand," he said. "It's pretty simple. I figure out what the asshole response would be, since it's usually my first instinct, and then don't do that." He shrugged. "I still want to touch you. Didn't get enough of that before."
Jesus, McCoy had a way of saying things that just-"Please do," he said, throat a little tight.
"Okay," Leonard said. "How are we going to do this? I'm guessing eighty-odd kilos of me on you wouldn't be your first choice."
In another lifetime, he'd have enjoyed that, but right now . . . "You're correct." He winced. "That sounded harsher than I intended. I don't know, but we're at a point where I'd rather not risk it."
Leonard nodded. "Okay." He frowned momentarily, and said, "What if you're sitting up, against the headboard?" The bed didn't have a headboard, but before Chris could point that out, Leonard said, "Or the wall."
"That might work," Chris said.
"Do you have any spare pillows?"
"In the closet," he said, pointing, and oh, if he'd known Leonard's ass looked like that when walking nude he would have kicked him out of bed on a pointless errand a long time ago.
The return trip was just as nice, in a different way, muscles shifting in his legs and abdomen. "What?" Leonard asked.
"Nothing," Chris said, grinning. "You want to walk back to the closet and grab something else random?"
Leonard frowned again and looked at the closet before he caught on, and shook his head. "You want to watch my ass or you want to grab it?"
"Good point."
Together they stacked the pillows by the wall, and Chris leaned against the pile, adjusting until he was comfortable.
"That okay?" Leonard asked.
"I think so."
Leonard leaned in and kissed him, warm and unhurried. Or at least it started that way, but when Chris nibbled on his lower lip, he broke the kiss, hauled in a harsh breath, and set his mouth right below Chris's ear. A moment later Chris felt the scrape of teeth against his neck and felt his heart start to race. It was-
Jesus, he didn't know if he could-
But it was so-
He threaded his fingers through Leonard's hair and drew him off for a moment. Fuck, this was the most difficult thing he'd done all night. "I just want you to know," he said, heart still pounding, "that what you're doing right there is basically edgeplay for me. I'm not saying stop, not yet, because goddamn is it working right now-" He took Leonard's hand and put it on his cock, hard as fucking nails when it hadn't been a minute ago. "-but be careful."
"Okay," Leonard said, as if it were totally normal to be told to be careful when nibbling on one's partner's neck, and resumed his ministrations. He gave Chris's cock a squeeze and let go, prompting a groan, but just laughed as he slid his hand up Chris's chest.
As he worked his way down, Chris groaned again at the feeling of Leonard's mouth on his collarbone. Leonard's fingers carded through Chris's chest hair, and scratched lightly.
"Oh, god," Chris said, and twisted, trying to get more skin against skin. Unfortunately, he twisted just wrong, and something in his hip scraped against something else, setting off his already-overloaded nervous system. He stiffened, not in the good way, which made it worse, and inhaled sharply.
Leonard looked up immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Fucking-nervous system," Chris said, gritting his teeth and trying to ride out the moment. Sometimes it would go away after a few moments; sometimes it would feed back into a loop and he'd be miserable until he got more drugs in him. "Just-a moment-"
McCoy nodded and sat back on his heels.
Chris squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on relaxing as much as he possibly could. He didn't mind a little pain, but it wasn't a turn-on, and even if it were, this kind of pain wasn't the kind he'd want. He inhaled, held the breath, and exhaled slowly.
After what felt like forever but what was probably only two or three minutes, the pain ebbed back to what he called 'zero' but what was actually probably a three or four by his pre-bug standards. "Okay," he said.
"Okay?" Leonard said, but didn't move.
"Okay, the acute pain is gone, but can we wait a few minutes?" He didn't know if a few minutes would be long enough, but he didn't want to pull the plug. Not yet.
"Of course," Leonard said. "Can I -" He gestured vaguely at the pillows next to Chris, who nodded. Brushing light fingers over Chris's shoulder, Leonard curled up next to him, head above his shoulder on the pillows, carefully not touching him.
Moving carefully, Chris threaded his arm under Leonard's neck, and pulled him in until they were touching in a long line from neck to knee. He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the muted hum of the computers and fans in the room.
Within a few minutes, though, the background hum receded in his mind, and instead, he heard Leonard's breath, felt it gently against his collarbone. He could feel the faint rasp of hair against skin as McCoy's chest rose and fell slightly. When he realized, with a moment of surprise, that heat unrelated to the warmth of the room was starting to build at every point of their contact, he smiled and stroked Leonard's shoulder. "All right," he said. "So where were we?"
"You sure?" Leonard said, and winced. "Sorry. Strike that."
"So stricken." He was pretty relaxed; enough that McCoy's misstep made him smile instead of freeze.
Leonard coughed. "So, uh, I think I was somewhere around here?" He scratched gently just below Chris's collarbone while leaning over to kiss right below his ear, and Chris groaned.
"Yeah, there," he managed to say.
Leonard distracted him with fingers and lips and tongue, surprisingly deft, and Chris gasped and moaned and lost all track of time until McCoy raised his head. His mouth was so close to Chris's cock that he could feel the hot breath, and Chris almost begged him not to stop.
Leonard spoke before he could, though. "Is this okay?"
"Yes, yes, god, please," he said, and it said something that he was so far gone that he didn't care that he sounded desperate.
And ohhh-Leonard's mouth was hot and wet and he sucked in exactly the right way, just at the tip with his tongue under the head and his hand around the base and oh god this wasn't going to last long-nice picture of his supposed stamina he was going to give-
He rode just on the fine edge before orgasm for longer than he thought physically possible, but finally tipped over when Leonard made some sort of noise in the back of his throat. He whited out, warp trails behind his eyes.
When he came back, Leonard was looking at him, one hand still cupped around him. "Good?" he asked.
Chris smiled lazily. "Oh, yes."
Leonard returned the smile. "You-tensed. I thought maybe-"
Chris took stock, as quickly as he could with his mind still mostly blown, and said, "No, I'm fine. My left hip is twinging a bit but that will go away in a few moments."
"Hip?"
"Well, all right," he said, "it's actually my ass more than anything-sciatic nerve-but 'hip' is the polite version."
"Can I help?"
Chris debated for a long moment, and finally said, "Yeah. Help me turn over?"
He told McCoy where exactly to press to give him some relief, and once the twinging stopped, he sighed and relaxed into the mattress.
Leonard, propped up on one elbow, trailed the fingers of his other hand up and down Chris's spine, slipping easily in the sweat. Chris watched him fondly, eyes half-mast with drowsiness and post-orgasm languor, but not willing to fall asleep yet. "What are you thinking?" he asked.
Leonard half-shrugged. "Nothing interesting."
"I won't offer a penny, then."
He smiled. "Just marveling at modern medicine."
Chris raised both eyebrows. "Oh?"
"It just seems," Leonard said, "that with what you've been through, there should be more-evidence, I guess." He shrugged with one shoulder.
Chris knew there were a thousand ways he could take that as an insult, and a few dozen of them started to rise in his chest, but rather than let any of that happen, he reached for Leonard's hand and put it on the back of his neck. "Just inside my hairline, there's a scar. I can't find it, but Phil reassures me that it's there."
Leonard's fingertips found it easily, tracing a definite line from just behind his left ear to a couple centimeters behind his right. "What's it from?" he asked.
"Getting cracked over the head with a rock and then thrown in a prison for three days," Chris said. "I think that was my fifth concussion."
"Fifth?"
"It's only one of two that had to heal without a regen," Chris said. "Don't worry. I'm not anywhere near brain damage yet."
"Other than whatever possesses you captain-types in general," Leonard said.
Chris couldn't quite see his face, but he could hear the eyeroll. "And yet you're voluntarily in bed with me. I wonder what that says about you."
"Never said I wasn't brain-damaged," Leonard said, but his tone was soft and he was threading his fingers through Chris's hair, so it failed as an insult.
Chris just smiled and closed his eyes.
"Are you going to be able to sleep with me here?" Leonard asked, a couple minutes later.
"I don't know," Chris said, forcing his eyes open and pushing back the waves of sleep. "It doesn't seem like a problem now, but who knows?"
"Want me to leave, then?"
"Hell, no," Chris said, and rolled on his side to face him, not without effort but fortunately without pain. He pulled Leonard against him and slid a leg between the other man's. "If I hurt you, I'm sorry."
"Doubt you will," Leonard said, but settled in and pulled the sheet over them.
Chris closed his eyes, smiling again.
* * *
Sometime in the middle of the night, Chris woke up, tangled in the sheets. His heart started beating double-time, and he broke out into a cold sweat, as he struggled to get the sheets off his legs. His breaths grew shallower and faster, until he heard, "Shh, let me help," and felt Leonard pull the sheet away from him.
"Thanks," he said, sounding half-strangled.
"Need anything else?" Leonard asked, and he was still definitely Leonard, not Dr. McCoy. He handed Chris the hem of the detangled bedsheet.
Chris shook his head, and then realizing that Leonard probably couldn't see it in the dark, said, "No, I'm fine."
"Okay," Leonard said, and lay back down, facing the wall away from Chris.
It clearly wasn't a rejection so much as an invitation, and after a moment, Chris rolled over to his side and wrapped himself around Leonard's broad, warm back, pulling the sheet over both of them. It took a while for his heartbeat to slow down to normal and the shaking to stop, but eventually, listening to Leonard's slow, even breathing, he managed to fall back asleep until morning.
-fin-
Back to Master Post | Back to Part Two
A light knock sounded on his office door-actually, his doorway. Chris looked up, and Jim Kirk-Captain Jim Kirk-stood there, a couple weeks after the Enterprise got back. "Captain Kirk," he said. "Office hours are normally for students, but of course you're welcome to come in."
"I checked with your yeoman," Kirk said as he came into the room and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite the desk. "You don't have any appointments this afternoon, sir."
"No, I'm free," Chris said. "I'd stand, but I had PT at lunchtime and my legs are made of rubber. How are you?" He was rather proud of the fact that he could say that without wincing or any attempt at self-deprecation.
"I'm fine," Jim said, but pressed his lips together briefly. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted," Chris said, the response automatic, but he frowned. What on Earth was this about?
"I'm not here as Captain Kirk," Jim said. "I'm here as Jim, and I need to talk to-Chris," he said, the name falling awkwardly between them.
"Okay," Chris said, drawing the second vowel out. "What's going on here, Jim?"
"I've never had to have this conversation before, for a long list of reasons, and I'm not really comfortable with having this conversation with my former academic advisor, but I think the traditional thing to say here is, 'If you break his heart, I'll kick your ass.'" Jim winced. "Not that I would actually kick your ass because that's not fair, but I think you get my point."
"Ah, yes," Chris said. Outwardly he didn't move, but inside his mind, he was screaming, Yes!
The nearly-palpable awkwardness extended for only a few seconds before Jim said, "Now can we pretend this conversation never happened?"
"No," Chris said. "I think I'm required to tell you that I have no intention of breaking his heart, first. Or at least not on purpose."
"I knew I forgot something," Jim said, and they both laughed.
"Look, I don't even know if-I haven't-god, Jim, you're pretty close to the last person I want to discuss this with," Chris said.
"I know," Jim said. "And god knows I don't want to be here either, but Bones is my best friend and, I don't know. It's like I feel responsible for him or something." He shuddered theatrically. "Anyway, got that over with. Um. Sports? Weather?"
The painfully-earnest look on his face caused Chris to break out in real laughter, and Jim joined in a minute or two later.
* * *
It probably didn't say much about his half-formed protest to Jim that he had Dr. McCoy's clinic schedule memorized, or that he rescheduled his appointment with Liz such that he'd be leaving Starfleet Medical at roughly the same time as Dr. McCoy. That is, assuming Liz didn't find any reason to keep him over, as if psychotherapy were some sort of detention.
He told himself that he wasn't fourteen and he should probably just comm the man and ask him to dinner or something, but if he did that, he'd probably find himself discussing it with Liz and that he very much wanted to avoid.
Which is why he ended up discussing it with Liz.
"Wait, let me get this straight," Liz said, the glee in her voice unmistakable. "You rescheduled your psych appointment so you might have the opportunity to run into someone, who you decline to name." She suppressed a grin poorly. "Can't you just comm him?"
Chris leaned forward and put his head into his hands. "I'm regressing. Can't you do something about that?"
"I can dial his number for you," she said, still trying very hard not to smile. She held out her hand, as if she actually expected him to put his comm unit into it.
Well, there went his dignity, and his ability to pretend that, oh, the entire Federation didn't know. Hell, the Klingons probably knew, as well.
"You want to leave early and wait outside the door?" she suggested.
He sat up enough to give her most of a very rude gesture in Andorian (he lacked the antennae to complete it), and she almost fell off her seat laughing.
"But seriously," Liz said a minute or two later, after she'd regained her composure. "It's good to see you seriously considering a romantic relationship with so much confidence."
He sighed. "It's bullshit," he said. "All of it."
"All of what?"
"I'm sure you can guess."
"I can, but you're supposed to tell me. Didn't we establish this a while ago?"
Chris sighed again. "I have no way of knowing if he's going to think the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. Since he doesn't know all the drawbacks."
"Who ever does?" Liz said. "I guess the only way you'll know is if you ask him."
"God, that sucks," he said, groaning.
"Yes," Liz said. "Most of us discovered this at age thirteen."
"Which was, what, last year, for you?"
It was her turn to give him a rude gesture.
* * *
Chris did not wait outside any door, nor did he leave his appointment early, but he did run into McCoy outside Starfleet Medical.
Actually, he didn't so much run into McCoy as 'found McCoy waiting for him,' closer to the exit from the psych wing than the general exit. His stomach plummeted into his shoes, but the only thing he said was, "Do you have dinner plans, Dr. McCoy?"
"Not yet," McCoy said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Sir."
"Drop the sir, and I might be able to fix that."
"Drop the 'Doctor,' and I might say yes," McCoy retorted, and then actually physically took a step back. "That is."
Chris was startled into a laugh, but gestured with his free hand in the general direction of town. "Come on; let's go. Thai food okay?"
"Mexican instead?" McCoy said.
"Indian?" Chris countered. "I got overdosed on Mexican food when I lived with Phil and Alicia."
"Indian's fine. Alicia cooks a lot?" McCoy asked as they started walking to the transit stop.
"No, Phil. Mexican's the only cuisine he doesn't fuck up. Seriously, the man can make damn fine enchiladas but burns spaghetti."
McCoy laughed, as expected.
They only had to wait for a minute or two for the bus to come by, and the ride itself was only five or ten minutes. In fact, it was probably shorter to walk, but Chris resolutely put that fact out of his head.
They got to the Dancing Ganesha, and being that it was a Wednesday night, the place was almost deserted. At Chris's direction, they got a small table with chairs, because they were easier for him to get into and out of. The cane stood unobtrusively in the corner.
They placed their orders, and Chris was ripping the corner off a piece of naan when McCoy said, "Look, Admiral Pike-"
"Chris," he said, interrupting. "Or 'Pike' if you can't manage that."
"Chris," McCoy said, frowning at him. "I know Jim talked to you, and now we're here, and all I can ask is, what's going on?"
Oh. The flippant answer of, 'We're eating dinner' came to his mind first, but McCoy deserved better than that. Well, fuck. He didn't want to do this, but he should. He took a sip of water and flicked his eyes to the corners of the room briefly.
McCoy was still looking at him levelly, and Chris took another breath, careful not to sigh. "I'm interested in you."
McCoy nodded but didn't say anything.
"I'm abysmally terrible at this," Chris said, sort of as an aside, but also as a warning.
McCoy rolled his eyes at that, but still didn't say anything.
"No, I mean it. I've got three spectacularly failed relationships-in thirty years, which should tell you something. To boot, I'm twenty years older and three ranks higher than you, as well as being a patient of yours. My hair's been gray so long I almost can't remember what color it was originally. My nervous system doesn't work right, and that's not even talking about my brain." He sighed. "And like I said, I'm awful at-this stuff. I tend to get buried in work, and I forget anniversaries and birthdays and that all my Saturday nights from here on out should be date nights, not work-late nights. But you-you make me want to try again."
"Former patient," McCoy said, a full, terrifying minute later. "I signed off on being your doctor the minute I turned you over to Dr. Boyce on Earth."
"Ah, yeah, Phil mentioned that," Chris said, nonplussed.
"As to the rest-" McCoy sighed himself. "I'm gonna be on a starship with Jim Kirk for a while."
"I know," Chris said, still not sure where McCoy was going.
"Do you know why my ex-wife ditched me?"
Chris shook his head.
"Because, unsurprisingly, when stuff all went to hell, I got buried in work and started ignoring her."
"Okay," Chris said, "so we've got that in common. Possibly not a good thing."
McCoy smiled, one-sided and only about half sarcastic. "No, but it means we have a fighting chance of understanding each other. About the rank differences-you're not my patient, and I'm not in your chain of command. I don't know enough about those particular regulations to know what we're supposed to do or not do-"
"They're purposefully vague," Chris admitted. "Mostly they can be used to prosecute in the case of something going horribly wrong, but otherwise, if everyone's consenting and of age, Starfleet doesn't care."
"Ah," McCoy said. "And I'm guessing you've figured out that I don't particularly care about the age gap."
"I was coming to that conclusion, yes," Chris said. But he still hadn't said-
"What does that leave?"
"Everything else." Why was it so hard to say the word 'disability'? Chris put his hands on the table instead of in his lap and relaxed enough to let the omnipresent fine tremor show.
"Oh," McCoy said, a rueful look on his face as his gaze dropped to Chris's hands. He raised his eyes back to Chris's and said, "You really think that was going to matter to me?"
A giant weight that he didn't know was there lifted off of Chris's chest, and he felt his face get warm briefly, and then cool off. "I had no way of knowing," he said. "I'm not paid to believe the best of people."
"No, I guess not," McCoy said. He looked down at his own hands for a moment, and then back up. "Dr. Boyce has been sending me regular updates on your health. I'll tell him to stop, but I need you to tell me what I need to know."
"I can do that." I think. Maybe. "But not in the middle of a restaurant."
The food came then, conveniently, and Chris neatly avoided the rice and spooned his saag aloo onto naan instead.
McCoy didn't say anything at first, but asked a few bites in, "Okay if I eat rice?"
"If not, it's too late now," Chris said, but he smiled so McCoy would know it was a joke. "Nope, doesn't bother me."
By some sort of unspoken agreement, they avoided the topic of-them-for the rest of the meal. Instead, Chris regaled McCoy with tales of students, and McCoy told stories of Kirk at the Academy and then on the Enterprise.
"For what it's worth," McCoy said at one point, "I almost asked Jim to turn the ship around when I heard that one of the neural grafts didn't take, and it wasn't because I didn't trust Dr. Boyce to do the surgery."
"It's worth a fair amount, thanks," Chris said, and smiled.
He insisted on paying the bill, citing his astronomically-high pay grade, and McCoy acquiesced surprisingly gracefully.
"I can probably walk home, if we go slowly enough," Chris offered, as they stood outside the restaurant. "It would be easier to talk."
McCoy swallowed his first response, and said, "All right," instead.
It took a couple blocks of silence before Chris could speak. "There are two problems," he said.
McCoy nodded.
"Obviously you know what happened, so you know some of the physical effects, and the CRPS. I don't have a ton of stamina." He paused, and smiled. "Correction. Let me rephrase that. I'm fifty-two years old, so I've definitely got stamina in that department."
McCoy huffed a quiet laugh.
"I just can't stand for very long without support. Or kneel, walk, et cetera. I'll have to do physical therapy for the rest of my life to keep the secondary effects of the CRPS from happening-the degeneration, mostly-and some days the physical therapy is so exhausting I just fall over asleep as soon as I get home. My hands shake, and my manual dexterity is at about eighty-five percent, according to the experts, although I was above average before so you might not notice any difference. Well-you're a surgeon. You might."
"Probably not," McCoy said. "Don't care anyway. Go on."
"I'm pretty much always in some amount of pain, and if I take enough of the painkillers so that I'm not, I'm practically comatose. I'm not entirely sure how that's going to affect things, but it will." Chris tightened his grip around the handle of the cane, and stuffed his other hand-shaking noticeably-in his pocket.
"You don't know?" McCoy asked, glancing at him.
"Well, all right, I do, somewhat," Chris said. This part was a little more uncomfortable, and he hadn't even gotten to all the psychological stuff. "I thought it would be better if I were a little more prepared for the physical aspect of a relationship." Actually, Liz had suggested it, in what was actually the most embarrassing conversation of their professional relationship, but he'd agreed.
"Sex surrogate?" McCoy asked.
"Yes."
"Did it help?"
"Yes. I'm capable of-" What on Earth was he supposed to say here? "Sex. Arousal, erection, orgasm-the plumbing basically works. Within limits." Kind of. On good days. If nothing went wrong. "Look, it's probably easier to tell you what I can't do." He took a deep breath, pausing for a moment.
McCoy stopped and turned to face him, and Chris could practically feel the need to touch, to help, to heal, radiating off of him. "Do you want me to ask instead?"
"No," Chris said, and coughed. "No. But you can touch me."
It wasn't actually the first time McCoy had touched him; obviously, in the course of having been his patient, they'd been in physical contact. It was, however, one of the rare times that Chris had been touched by anyone non-therapeutically, who wasn't Phil or Alicia, in the last year, and certainly the first time he'd been touched by a potential lover in longer than he cared to admit.
None of that explained why McCoy's hand felt so warm against his upper arm, even though the two layers of uniform he was wearing.
"We don't have to talk about this now," McCoy said, voice low and intimate.
Chris sighed. "We probably should, or at least before anything happens."
McCoy frowned, but Chris held up a hand. "No, I actually mean anything."
McCoy dropped his hand from Chris's arm.
Chris rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry for not being clear. This is-" He sighed. "I've managed to send myself into a panic attack with a toothbrush before, and don't ask me about flossing. I don't do well with things in my mouth."
"Okay," McCoy said.
"I'm sure you can extrapolate what that means."
"No rice with takeout?"
Chris smiled. "Something like that."
"So, I'm guessing the rice is because of the texture, and toothbrushes, flossing, fingers, spoons, et cetera is because they're foreign objects?"
"Yeah, that's about it," Chris said. "Somewhere I have a list of foods that are usually okay; you can have a copy if you're interested. But more importantly, I think I've just eliminated first and third bases, so . . ." He spread his hands.
"Now, see, with that opening line, I should suggest goin' straight to second," McCoy said, his accent deepening. Chris thought it was probably intentional. "But my mama raised me proper, and I'd never say anything like that to someone I actually liked."
Chris laughed, surprisingly relieved. "Come on, Rhett Butler; walk me home."
"Hate that movie," McCoy muttered under his breath. He started to offer Chris his arm, but stopped, and locked his hands behind his back instead.
"Oh, fuck that," Chris said, quite clearly, and circled to McCoy's other side, where he could offer his free hand.
McCoy took it without any stupid questions; it was dark enough that Chris could see that he smiled and not much else. "Stepping up to bat?"
"Might as well," Chris said, and immediately felt stupid. On the other hand, in retrospect, it was only the second or third most ridiculous way he'd ever gotten into a relationship. Of course, he couldn't think of anything to say to make it sound less like he was only in it for the convenience factor-about as far from the truth as possible-so he stayed quiet.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, before McCoy said, "Anything else we need to talk about right away?"
"Probably," Chris said, "but I'm tired enough for one day." He'd meant emotionally-hell of a roller coaster he'd been on-but he realized he was also physically tired after he said that. All of a sudden, his limbs felt twice as heavy as usual, and he-well, he didn't quite stumble, but it was close.
"You're in Glenn Hall, right?" McCoy said, catching him under the elbow.
Chris nodded.
"That's about five blocks from here. Gonna make it?"
It would be so easy to get defensive here-I said I could before, didn't I?-but he'd had a year of Liz and Phil reminding him that there was really no point in being an asshole for shit like this. Chris managed to take a deep breath, assess his physical state as objectively as he could, and say, "Yes, although we won't be setting any land-speed records."
They didn't, unless someone kept records for how slow a human being could walk and still be moving forward. After a block or so, the leaden feeling evaporated from his limbs, and he felt considerably better, at least back to where he'd been. Chris didn't miss any more steps, and McCoy tried not to hover and generally succeeded.
They didn't say much until they reached Chris's door, still on the third floor; Starfleet had offered him a first-floor apartment, but people walking by outside weren't worth the convenience of less travel time.
"So you've walked me to my door," Chris said lightly, although his pulse was racing. "Going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me to say hi to my parents?"
"It would be the gentlemanly thing to do," McCoy said, holding himself a handspan away, shoulders stiff.
"Are we going to the junior prom next month, then?" Chris asked, and without waiting for a response, grabbed a handful of McCoy's shirt, pulling him close enough to kiss.
And kiss they did-no tongues but not in the least chaste. McCoy's hands hesitated for a moment before resting lightly on Chris's waist; Chris's hands flattened against McCoy's chest before sliding over his shoulders.
He wondered just for a moment why a minimal five-centimeter height difference meant he had to take the more vulnerable position, but then realized he actually needed the support, and shut down that line of thinking quickly.
"So what color was your hair?" McCoy asked, low in his ear, after the kiss came to a natural end and they were merely standing in the hall, clinging to each other for all the world to see. (Or at least all of Chris's neighbors, who weren't around anyway.)
Chris laughed gently, and said, "Come on in for a second." He didn't doubt that McCoy already knew-it was probably in his file if nothing else-but he pulled away, palmed open the door, walked over to the end table by the couch, and picked up a holoframe. He waited for a moment until the set of pictures cycled back to the beginning, and then handed it to McCoy.
Who looked at it, eyebrow raised. "Who's that in the picture with you?" he asked.
"Don't recognize him?" Chris asked, grinning as he propped himself up against the wall. "Wait a minute or two."
McCoy did, and when the look of recognition dawned a few moments later, Chris's grin broadened.
"Why, yes, Dr. McCoy, that is your boss." The whole holoframe was full of pictures of him and Phil over the years, mostly taken by Alicia, but she was in a few of them.
"Quite a pair, the two of you," McCoy said, neutrally.
"Yeah," Chris said, and took the frame back, replacing it on the end table. "It's never a bad thing if the CMO and the captain are close."
"Not exactly what I meant," McCoy muttered, again under his breath.
Chris heard him quite clearly, and laughed. "You, me, couch," he said, pointing.
"You mean-"
"You know what," Chris said, deliberately interrupting, "I don't know what's going to happen. It's never been worth the possibility of panic and throwing up and injury to find out before this."
He had no idea what it said about either of them that McCoy apparently processed that as a romantic statement. McCoy's face softened, the lines in his forehead from the perpetual scowl smoothing away, and he held out a hand.
Despite the fact that, as McCoy grumbled, they were two grown-ass men and it wasn't that big of a couch, they managed to arrange themselves in a way beneficial to both. Which meant Chris was on top, legs loosely tangled with McCoy's, hands on his shoulders as they kissed.
It was getting easier, the whole kissing-without-tongues thing, although it vaguely felt like he was in middle school again. "Is this working for you?" he asked, after a few minutes.
In response, McCoy shifted his hips, and Chris felt-oh, yes-McCoy was hard. "That answer your question?"
Instead of answering, he nibbled the side of McCoy's neck, and yes, he could do this.
McCoy's hands dropped to Chris's back, and then down to his rear end. "Oh, god, McCoy," Chris said on a groan, and then frowned, pushing up to look at his face. "McCoy? Leonard?"
"Leonard's fine," McCoy said, and sat up for another kiss.
"I think somewhere in here," Chris murmured sleepily, some time later, "I'm supposed to ask you if there's anything I need to know about you."
McCoy's-Leonard's-chest shook briefly with a silent chuckle. "No, nothing in particular that you don't already know," he said. "World's most boring sexual history. Some fun in college, and then married my high school sweetheart. Had a kid, got divorced, came off to Starfleet Academy, and was unfortunately too busy and exhausted to fuck around most of the time."
"And since then?"
"Nothin'." Leonard shifted. "Tested clean, if you wondered."
"Good to know. Obviously you know my entire medical history. Or close enough."
"Yep."
"No one, really?" Chris asked.
"Wasn't worth it," Leonard said, and Chris felt him shrug. "I knew what-who-I actually wanted."
"Ah." A pause, and then, "You do mean me, right?"
"Nope. You haven't been an admiral long enough. Barnett, now, there's a guy-"
Chris rolled his eyes and smacked McCoy on the shoulder, not hard.
"Other than that," Leonard said, "if you can deal with my personality, the fact that I've got a ten-year-old daughter, and the fact that I can't get rid of Jim Kirk no matter how I try, I think we'll do okay."
"I can't get rid of him either," Chris said, with a sigh that turned into a yawn. "And Joanna's cute, and I happen to think your personality is a bonus."
Leonard laughed again. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"She likes you, I think."
"Oh?" Chris asked.
"That is, she told me it was totally gross to see me flirting with someone and I shouldn't ever do it again in front of her, but that you seemed nice enough."
Chris laughed. "I'll take it."
A few companionably-silent minutes later, Leonard shifted again. "I should probably get going," he said, and the reluctance in his tone was immensely gratifying. "You're falling asleep on me."
"But you're so comfortable," Chris said in protest, but managed, with Leonard's unobtrusive help, to rearrange himself so he was sitting on one corner of the couch.
Leonard swung his legs so that he was sitting on the couch as well, and started putting his shoes back on. "I don't have any shifts this weekend," he said, as he retied the laces.
"Neither do I," Chris said. "Friday evening? Dinner and a movie, or something else traditional?"
Leonard snorted. "Hoping I'll put out at the end of the night?"
"Yes, please. Should I bring flowers?" Chris tried to keep his tone light, even as he balled his hands into fists to hide the shaking.
"No need," Leonard said, and held out a hand.
Chris took it, leaning into his side. God, Leonard smelled good, like Indian food and something woodsy and a little bit like hospital antiseptic. He wanted to lick the other man's neck, but exhaustion was dragging him down. Oh well. Friday night. "Can I see you tomorrow anyway?"
"Yeah, sure," Leonard said. "Lunch, dinner? Or," he said, wincing, "something that has nothing to do with food?"
"Lunch is fine," Chris said. He got his feet under him and saw Leonard to the door. One last kiss and a clinging press of bodies, and the door swooshed shut behind Leonard.
God, that had been good. As tired as he was, he was still elated-he almost wanted to dance around the apartment, as undignified as that was.
He didn't, although he allowed himself a brief celebratory fist-pump.
* * *
They skipped the movie.
One breathless kiss at the door, and Chris said, chest heaving, "I don't know if I can wait that long."
"Me neither," Leonard said. The relief mixed with desire written on his face was gratifying.
The only reason they didn't skip dinner was because Leonard hadn't eaten lunch. "You know," Chris said, as they ate take-out deli sandwiches quickly in his living room, "if you'd just bothered to grab a peanut-butter sandwich, we could be naked by now." He set his sandwich down and unfastened his jacket, not missing how McCoy watched.
"I try not to eat dinner naked," Leonard drawled a moment or so later, licking mayonnaise off his fingers. "Unhygienic."
"Awww," Chris said. He felt-buoyant: light-hearted, or something. Confident, maybe. This part-after he knew they were going to end up in bed-this part, he knew what to do. He could tease and seduce with the best of them, once it was a sure thing. He tried very hard to concentrate on that part and ignored the fact that he had no idea what was going to happen once they actually were in bed.
Leonard finished his sandwich and chips first; Chris ate more slowly, as he didn't want to set himself off. Eventually, though, he set aside the last bite, slugged down the end of the protein shake he'd had in lieu of chips or pretzels (both iffy), and scrubbed his hands on his pants. "Done?" he asked hopefully.
"I am," Leonard said. "What now?"
Chris raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, no," Leonard said. "You're the one directing the proceedings."
"Oh, I get to be on top?" Chris said, grinning.
"If you want," Leonard said, sprawling against the back of the sofa, letting his knees fall wide.
Normally Chris didn't really care what other men were wearing, because it all looked good on the floor, but damn, McCoy really made tailored slacks and an Oxford look appealing. Moreso when the shirt was pulled taut against his chest and the pants pulled taut against his-
Chris's mouth went dry. "There's a very strong chance," he managed a moment or so later, "that we won't even make it that far."
"That's fine," Leonard said. He stood and collected the detritus from dinner, dropping it in the 'cycler, before stopping in front of Chris and holding out his hands.
Chris stared at them for a moment; he'd never allowed anyone other than Phil to help him up that way, preferring to push up on his own strength or, better yet, not sit in a chair low enough to require help. On the other hand, it was Leonard. Chris took his hands.
Apparently he'd been paying attention; Leonard merely tensed his muscles and braced himself, rather than trying to pull. A moment later, they were almost nose-to-nose; would have been, except for the five centimeters McCoy had on him. Chris shook his head mentally. He'd apparently been sleeping with too many short people if it bothered him every time he ran up against it. So to speak. "Bedroom?" he said, voice sounding strange in his ears, lower and rougher than usual.
"Yes, please."
Starfleet didn't issue large apartments, even to admirals, so the trip to the bedroom probably shouldn't have taken five minutes. But it did, and Leonard's hair was adorably ruffled by the time they got there. Once inside, lights ordered to fifty percent, Chris watched Leonard scan over the bed pushed up against the wall, the stack of hyposprays and pill bottles on the dresser, and the wheelchair neatly folded up in one corner.
Or maybe he was looking at the stack of padds on the bedside table, the boring green plaid comforter, and the not-Starfleet-issue dresser Chris had rescued from a garage sale and refinished ten years ago. It was hard to tell, without asking, and he wasn't sure he wanted to ask.
"At least it's a queen-sized bed?" he said, trying to make a joke.
"The only thing disappointing about your bed is that we're not in it already," Leonard said.
Oh. He could get used to this-the low, simmering heat in Leonard's voice, and the way his dark eyes seemed only to get darker. Dropping his hands to Leonard's waist, he tugged the tails of his shirt out of his pants, and started unbuttoning the shirt from the bottom. Leonard unbuttoned his own collar and cuffs, and when their hands met in the middle, he laughed and pulled both the shirt and its accompanying t-shirt over his head without undoing the final, middle button.
It ruffled his hair more than it had been, and Leonard tried vainly to settle it back in order as Chris laughed. "It's just going to get messed up more."
"Doesn't stop it from feeling weird," Leonard said.
"Looks cute," Chris said.
Leonard snorted. "Well, I guess I'll take what I can get."
"Lose more clothing, and I'll see what I can do about the compliments."
Leonard cocked an eyebrow. "Ditto."
Chris felt his face grow warm; he'd avoided thinking about what he looked like since the Narada, despite Phil's reassurance that since he'd gained back most of the weight, he looked fine, and he would not start now. Besides . . . "Nothing you haven't seen."
"I may have seen," Leonard said, "but I wasn't lookin'." His fingers, oddly warm, stole under Chris's jacket, and slipped it off his shoulders.
Yeah, he knew. Speaking of looking, Leonard was standing in front of him shirtless and he'd barely spared the man a glance. Travesty.
Well, also, looking at McCoy distracted him from the fact that gentle fingers were sliding under his hem and removing his shirt.
So he let himself be distracted, tracing the planes of Leonard's chest and shoulders with eyes and fingers, following the line of his collarbone and remembering where a touch made him shiver.
"You like the slow reveal," Leonard asked as he threw Chris's shirt out of the way, "or do we unwrap everything at once and sort it all out once we're horizontal?"
"Yes," Chris said promptly. "Slow reveal for you, fast for me."
Leonard laughed. "No; not fair."
"Who says?" He reached out and grabbed Leonard's belt, pulling to close the space between them. Proving why he'd been elevated to the rank of captain significantly younger than average, he managed to kiss Leonard even while undoing his belt and the button and fly of the pants. He pushed the fabric over McCoy's hips, letting it pool around his ankles, and left him in only his underwear.
Apparently that meant fast and furious to Leonard, because in under a minute, they'd managed to strew all remaining clothing in a trail from the door to the bed. Chris barely managed to push the covers on the bed down to the foot before he found himself lying on his side, facing Leonard.
And that was when he froze. "Hi," he said.
"Oh, no, you don't," Leonard said, and wrapped an arm around his waist, hauling him against him. Almost instantly he released him and said, "I'm sorry. I mean-"
"No, you were right," Chris said. I can do this. "Don't touch my wrists, don't pin me down, nothing in my mouth-everything else should be fine. That was just-"
"An uncharacteristic moment of hesitation?" Leonard suggested.
Chris shrugged, which probably looked a bit odd.
"How about this for reassurance?" Leonard said, and carefully found Chris's hand, placing it on his-oh, wow.
"That's-very reassuring," Chris said after he recovered his brainpower. He wrapped his fingers around Leonard's cock and stroked from root to tip.
Leonard gasped. "Good." His hand went over Chris's for a moment, stilling it. "Just remember, if something isn't working for you, or doesn't work for you, tell me, and we'll try something else or we'll stop. Okay?"
"Yes, yes," Chris said, but he couldn't keep himself from smiling. He couldn't even manage to drop one side of his mouth to make it ironic instead of just sweet.
Leonard smiled back, also sweet. "Good," he said. "Now, you can get back to that, if you want."
"Do you want to get off this way?" Chris asked as he started stroking again.
"Well, sure," Leonard said, and gasped as Chris ran a thumb over the head. "But not quite yet."
"Mmm. Okay." Chris nudged Leonard's shoulder until he lay mostly-flat on the bed, keeping his other hand still on Leonard's cock. He may not be able to use his mouth the way he wanted, but he could still use it-to nibble at McCoy's collarbone, to dart his tongue into the intraclavicular notch and taste the sweat that had already started to gather there.
Leonard gasped again, his hips pressing upward into Chris's hand, and skimmed a hand over Chris's back before resting lightly against his neck.
That-felt strange. Chris let go of Leonard's cock briefly to move his hand up onto his head, fingers in his hair, and then returned to his ministrations. Ahh, better. He looked up at McCoy's face, and the other man's eyes were closed, lips parted.
Fuck. He wanted to lick every centimeter of the man, and blow him, and fuck him through the mattress-all at the same time-and he couldn't, at least not right now, and that was shitty, but goddamn it, he could fucking do something.
He flipped over and straddled one of Leonard's thighs, his own cock-hard, oh god hard, and he'd barely noticed-pressed into the hollow of his hip as Leonard's cock was pressed into his, and cupped McCoy's face with his hands. "I'm going to make this good," he said.
"Never had a moment of doubt," Leonard said.
"That makes one of us," Chris muttered under his breath, and bit the side of Leonard's neck, right where it met his shoulder. It wasn't hard enough to leave a mark, but it was definitely hard enough to make McCoy groan.
The sound, especially because he could feel it rumble through his chest, made Chris smile, and he sat up enough to run his hands in long, sweeping strokes over Leonard's shouders and arms.
Leonard was a little bigger through the shoulders than Chris was himself; his chest hair was considerably more sparse, although that wasn't saying much. Of course, he was also twenty years younger and in excellent health and physical condition, so Chris should probably quit with the mental comparisons if he wanted to salvage any self-esteem. Rather, he concentrated on the sensation of Leonard's skin under his hands, warm and faintly rough where he had body hair.
McCoy made quiet humming noises when he was pleased, apparently. He also was ticklish along his ribs, but very much liked having the hair below his navel scratched gently. His hands were ridiculously sensitive, and when Chris scraped his teeth over the center of his palm, he just about jackknifed off the bed.
"Good?" Chris asked, just to confirm.
"God, yes." Leonard's voice was rough, his accent out in full force, and Chris could not wait one more minute.
He rolled off, threaded his right arm under the pillow that held Leonard's head, and licked Leonard's earlobe. "Do you want me to talk, or no?" he asked, "and do you want me to grab the lube?"
"Talk, yes, if you can; lube, no, not necessary."
Chris laughed, low and dark. "I can talk." He reached down, cupped Leonard's balls in his hand, briefly rolling, and then wrapped his hand around his cock.
Leonard groaned and turned his head to press his lips against Chris's forehead briefly. "Go on," he said.
"Mmm," Chris said, and squeezed before he started stroking. "You look amazing like this, you know?" he said. "Naked, sweaty, hard, spread out in my bed."
Leonard hmmed back, his cock jumping in Chris's hand.
"Ah, you like that?" Chris said, and swiped his thumb over the head again, this time catching a drop of pre-come. "Good, because I definitely do. Like this. Like you." He was veering toward the inane, if not overly sentimental, so he switched gears back to the more sensual. "And I'm definitely going to like watching you come for me."
McCoy's eyes squeezed shut, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
"Sometime soon," Chris said, "I'm going to like sliding inside of you, and watching you below me." He sped up his motions just a bit. "Believe me, I'll like that quite a bit. Even thinking about it-" He scraped his teeth against Leonard's neck, and caught a drop of sweat on his tongue. "Fuck."
"God, yes," Leonard said again, dragging a hissing breath in through his teeth. His fingers flexed against the sheets, grabbing handfuls of the bedding.
Chris pushed himself a little more firmly against Leonard's side, slinging a leg over his, and increased his speed a little more. "You have no idea how much I want to see you at that moment, when you lose all control. How much I want to hear you, whether you make a quiet gasp or whether you scream my name-I want to know. And I want to know soon."
"Close," Leonard said through clenched teeth.
His body was starting to shake; Chris watched his head tip back and his lips part as he hauled in deep breaths. Chris pressed his lips to Leonard's neck briefly and then propped himself up just enough to see his face.
"Leonard," he said, putting just a little of the command tone into his voice, "I want you to come for me. Now."
And Leonard did, gasping out a strangled, "Chris!" as his back arched and he came all over Chris's hand and his own chest.
Chris kept touching him, gently, until Leonard relaxed somewhat, and then wiped his hand off on the sheet.
Leonard turned his head, and kissed Chris, brief but strong. "How are you so good at that?" he asked, voice low and lazy and intensely satisfied.
Chris laughed. "I've always been good at talking people into things."
"That you are." Leonard shifted, realigning himself against Chris. "Just give me a moment here."
Chris paused for a moment, and then said, "Take all the time you need." Fuck.
"Mmm," Leonard said. "What is it?"
Chris shifted his hips and pushed up against Leonard's hip in answer. "Not hard anymore," he said, probably unnecessarily.
"So?" Leonard asked. "It'll happen again, or it won't."
Chris frowned, and looked at Leonard. "How are you so nice?" he asked without thinking, and winced. "I mean-that didn't come out right."
Leonard laughed. "No, I understand," he said. "It's pretty simple. I figure out what the asshole response would be, since it's usually my first instinct, and then don't do that." He shrugged. "I still want to touch you. Didn't get enough of that before."
Jesus, McCoy had a way of saying things that just-"Please do," he said, throat a little tight.
"Okay," Leonard said. "How are we going to do this? I'm guessing eighty-odd kilos of me on you wouldn't be your first choice."
In another lifetime, he'd have enjoyed that, but right now . . . "You're correct." He winced. "That sounded harsher than I intended. I don't know, but we're at a point where I'd rather not risk it."
Leonard nodded. "Okay." He frowned momentarily, and said, "What if you're sitting up, against the headboard?" The bed didn't have a headboard, but before Chris could point that out, Leonard said, "Or the wall."
"That might work," Chris said.
"Do you have any spare pillows?"
"In the closet," he said, pointing, and oh, if he'd known Leonard's ass looked like that when walking nude he would have kicked him out of bed on a pointless errand a long time ago.
The return trip was just as nice, in a different way, muscles shifting in his legs and abdomen. "What?" Leonard asked.
"Nothing," Chris said, grinning. "You want to walk back to the closet and grab something else random?"
Leonard frowned again and looked at the closet before he caught on, and shook his head. "You want to watch my ass or you want to grab it?"
"Good point."
Together they stacked the pillows by the wall, and Chris leaned against the pile, adjusting until he was comfortable.
"That okay?" Leonard asked.
"I think so."
Leonard leaned in and kissed him, warm and unhurried. Or at least it started that way, but when Chris nibbled on his lower lip, he broke the kiss, hauled in a harsh breath, and set his mouth right below Chris's ear. A moment later Chris felt the scrape of teeth against his neck and felt his heart start to race. It was-
Jesus, he didn't know if he could-
But it was so-
He threaded his fingers through Leonard's hair and drew him off for a moment. Fuck, this was the most difficult thing he'd done all night. "I just want you to know," he said, heart still pounding, "that what you're doing right there is basically edgeplay for me. I'm not saying stop, not yet, because goddamn is it working right now-" He took Leonard's hand and put it on his cock, hard as fucking nails when it hadn't been a minute ago. "-but be careful."
"Okay," Leonard said, as if it were totally normal to be told to be careful when nibbling on one's partner's neck, and resumed his ministrations. He gave Chris's cock a squeeze and let go, prompting a groan, but just laughed as he slid his hand up Chris's chest.
As he worked his way down, Chris groaned again at the feeling of Leonard's mouth on his collarbone. Leonard's fingers carded through Chris's chest hair, and scratched lightly.
"Oh, god," Chris said, and twisted, trying to get more skin against skin. Unfortunately, he twisted just wrong, and something in his hip scraped against something else, setting off his already-overloaded nervous system. He stiffened, not in the good way, which made it worse, and inhaled sharply.
Leonard looked up immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Fucking-nervous system," Chris said, gritting his teeth and trying to ride out the moment. Sometimes it would go away after a few moments; sometimes it would feed back into a loop and he'd be miserable until he got more drugs in him. "Just-a moment-"
McCoy nodded and sat back on his heels.
Chris squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on relaxing as much as he possibly could. He didn't mind a little pain, but it wasn't a turn-on, and even if it were, this kind of pain wasn't the kind he'd want. He inhaled, held the breath, and exhaled slowly.
After what felt like forever but what was probably only two or three minutes, the pain ebbed back to what he called 'zero' but what was actually probably a three or four by his pre-bug standards. "Okay," he said.
"Okay?" Leonard said, but didn't move.
"Okay, the acute pain is gone, but can we wait a few minutes?" He didn't know if a few minutes would be long enough, but he didn't want to pull the plug. Not yet.
"Of course," Leonard said. "Can I -" He gestured vaguely at the pillows next to Chris, who nodded. Brushing light fingers over Chris's shoulder, Leonard curled up next to him, head above his shoulder on the pillows, carefully not touching him.
Moving carefully, Chris threaded his arm under Leonard's neck, and pulled him in until they were touching in a long line from neck to knee. He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the muted hum of the computers and fans in the room.
Within a few minutes, though, the background hum receded in his mind, and instead, he heard Leonard's breath, felt it gently against his collarbone. He could feel the faint rasp of hair against skin as McCoy's chest rose and fell slightly. When he realized, with a moment of surprise, that heat unrelated to the warmth of the room was starting to build at every point of their contact, he smiled and stroked Leonard's shoulder. "All right," he said. "So where were we?"
"You sure?" Leonard said, and winced. "Sorry. Strike that."
"So stricken." He was pretty relaxed; enough that McCoy's misstep made him smile instead of freeze.
Leonard coughed. "So, uh, I think I was somewhere around here?" He scratched gently just below Chris's collarbone while leaning over to kiss right below his ear, and Chris groaned.
"Yeah, there," he managed to say.
Leonard distracted him with fingers and lips and tongue, surprisingly deft, and Chris gasped and moaned and lost all track of time until McCoy raised his head. His mouth was so close to Chris's cock that he could feel the hot breath, and Chris almost begged him not to stop.
Leonard spoke before he could, though. "Is this okay?"
"Yes, yes, god, please," he said, and it said something that he was so far gone that he didn't care that he sounded desperate.
And ohhh-Leonard's mouth was hot and wet and he sucked in exactly the right way, just at the tip with his tongue under the head and his hand around the base and oh god this wasn't going to last long-nice picture of his supposed stamina he was going to give-
He rode just on the fine edge before orgasm for longer than he thought physically possible, but finally tipped over when Leonard made some sort of noise in the back of his throat. He whited out, warp trails behind his eyes.
When he came back, Leonard was looking at him, one hand still cupped around him. "Good?" he asked.
Chris smiled lazily. "Oh, yes."
Leonard returned the smile. "You-tensed. I thought maybe-"
Chris took stock, as quickly as he could with his mind still mostly blown, and said, "No, I'm fine. My left hip is twinging a bit but that will go away in a few moments."
"Hip?"
"Well, all right," he said, "it's actually my ass more than anything-sciatic nerve-but 'hip' is the polite version."
"Can I help?"
Chris debated for a long moment, and finally said, "Yeah. Help me turn over?"
He told McCoy where exactly to press to give him some relief, and once the twinging stopped, he sighed and relaxed into the mattress.
Leonard, propped up on one elbow, trailed the fingers of his other hand up and down Chris's spine, slipping easily in the sweat. Chris watched him fondly, eyes half-mast with drowsiness and post-orgasm languor, but not willing to fall asleep yet. "What are you thinking?" he asked.
Leonard half-shrugged. "Nothing interesting."
"I won't offer a penny, then."
He smiled. "Just marveling at modern medicine."
Chris raised both eyebrows. "Oh?"
"It just seems," Leonard said, "that with what you've been through, there should be more-evidence, I guess." He shrugged with one shoulder.
Chris knew there were a thousand ways he could take that as an insult, and a few dozen of them started to rise in his chest, but rather than let any of that happen, he reached for Leonard's hand and put it on the back of his neck. "Just inside my hairline, there's a scar. I can't find it, but Phil reassures me that it's there."
Leonard's fingertips found it easily, tracing a definite line from just behind his left ear to a couple centimeters behind his right. "What's it from?" he asked.
"Getting cracked over the head with a rock and then thrown in a prison for three days," Chris said. "I think that was my fifth concussion."
"Fifth?"
"It's only one of two that had to heal without a regen," Chris said. "Don't worry. I'm not anywhere near brain damage yet."
"Other than whatever possesses you captain-types in general," Leonard said.
Chris couldn't quite see his face, but he could hear the eyeroll. "And yet you're voluntarily in bed with me. I wonder what that says about you."
"Never said I wasn't brain-damaged," Leonard said, but his tone was soft and he was threading his fingers through Chris's hair, so it failed as an insult.
Chris just smiled and closed his eyes.
"Are you going to be able to sleep with me here?" Leonard asked, a couple minutes later.
"I don't know," Chris said, forcing his eyes open and pushing back the waves of sleep. "It doesn't seem like a problem now, but who knows?"
"Want me to leave, then?"
"Hell, no," Chris said, and rolled on his side to face him, not without effort but fortunately without pain. He pulled Leonard against him and slid a leg between the other man's. "If I hurt you, I'm sorry."
"Doubt you will," Leonard said, but settled in and pulled the sheet over them.
Chris closed his eyes, smiling again.
* * *
Sometime in the middle of the night, Chris woke up, tangled in the sheets. His heart started beating double-time, and he broke out into a cold sweat, as he struggled to get the sheets off his legs. His breaths grew shallower and faster, until he heard, "Shh, let me help," and felt Leonard pull the sheet away from him.
"Thanks," he said, sounding half-strangled.
"Need anything else?" Leonard asked, and he was still definitely Leonard, not Dr. McCoy. He handed Chris the hem of the detangled bedsheet.
Chris shook his head, and then realizing that Leonard probably couldn't see it in the dark, said, "No, I'm fine."
"Okay," Leonard said, and lay back down, facing the wall away from Chris.
It clearly wasn't a rejection so much as an invitation, and after a moment, Chris rolled over to his side and wrapped himself around Leonard's broad, warm back, pulling the sheet over both of them. It took a while for his heartbeat to slow down to normal and the shaking to stop, but eventually, listening to Leonard's slow, even breathing, he managed to fall back asleep until morning.
-fin-
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