Things that never happened (Barnett/McCoy, NC-17)
Title: Things that never happened
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Barnett/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: very mild BDSM
Genre: drama/humour
Word Count: Around 4200
Beta: expertly betaed by the ever-obliging imachar All remaining errors are my own.
Notes: variously inspired by:
skyblue_reverie's lovely McCoy/Chekov temperature play fic Thaw
boosette's The "Tie Dr. McCoy to ALL the Things" Comment-fic-athon!
medie's Awesome People of Colour are Awesome: Comment-a-thon
Summary: Dr McCoy has violated the Prime Directive one time too many. Admiral Barnett is not amused.
Leonard leans over the balcony and looks down on the thinning crowd. For a Federation gala dinner he is rather less tipsy than he might be. It is close to the end of their first year of service and this is their first attendance at a Federation strategy meet-up in their capacity as the senior crew of the Starfleet flagship. He’s been very careful to be on his best behaviour all evening and that means staying relatively sober.
The southern hemisphere of Regux V is warm in summer and the natives don’t believe in air-conditioning, relying rather on high ceilings and fountains. Leonard at last allows himself the luxury of undoing the collar of his dress jacket. He’s got his hands on a glass of top-quality bourbon and he’s going to take his time in enjoying it.
Given that it is three in the morning many of the guests have already left. Only the die-hard revellers remain, swarming around the free bar. He can see Pike still there, inevitably surrounded by a crowd of hopeful admirers. He won’t be wanting for company tonight. Jim has already gone, headed for pastures more horizontal with a giggling young Betazoid on his arm. He looks around for Admiral Barnett but the man has vanished, presumably gone off to bed at a sensible hour as all responsible Admirals should.
The doctor’s mind turns idly to a recent senior staff meeting where Jim, having disposed of most of the day’s business, announced the next pressing matter on the agenda: so, of all the Admiralty, who would you totally do? Leonard had gone with the flow, joining most of the others (those who weren’t spluttering in exasperation like Uhura or raising a supercilious eyebrow like Spock) in picking Pike. But the truth is that, handsome man though he is, Pike is a little too easy-going for him. The man likes him and has got him out of several awkward jams with the brass, a fact that Leonard is very grateful for, but it does mean that Pike doesn’t really get the starring role in the doctor’s more private fantasies.
In the quiet depths of the night he goes for a little more authority, a little less approbation, a firmer hand all round. The little secret that he shares with no one is that the one who really gets his heart racing is Admiral Richard Barnett. Now there is a fine figure of a man who is strict and stern and definitely has no patience for fools. There is a man with the mental discipline and physical size to put Leonard very firmly in his place.
A figure materializes out of the gloom as he ponders. “Lieutenant-Commander McCoy,” says a deep voice flatly. “My least favourite officer in the entire galaxy.” Speak of the devil… or fantasize about him, anyway. Leonard glances over at Admiral Barnett in some surprise. Given how many annoying officers there are in Starfleet, with Jim Kirk clearly heading up the list, he feels that this is a bit harsh.
He’s not sure how to reply. “Yes sir,” seems to imply a worrying lack of self-esteem. “No sir,” means he’s contradicting an Admiral. He settles on “um”.
Barnett leans against the railing next to him, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Leonard is suddenly very conscious of just how big the man is. Leonard is tall and broad in the chest and there are not many officers who dwarf him but Barnett has another four or five inches on him and weighs well over 200 pounds, 200 pounds of pure muscle. He is built like a bear…. a huge, powerful, beautiful brown bear…
“You drive me up the fucking wall,” Barnett continues grimly. “All the mission reports from the Enterprise annoy me but your ones are especially bad.”
“My ones, sir?” Leonard pulls hurriedly out of his fantasy to try and focus on the conversation. He really fails to see how any missions can be particularly pinned on him.
“Your ones. Anything to do with a breach of the Prime Directive almost always has its origins with you. Do you whipper-snappers really think that I can’t read between the lines? You see some medical emergency and demand to solve it with complete disregard to the Prime Directive. Kirk thinks up some hair-brained way to execute the plan. Spock then writes up an appallingly specious mission report designed to make your actions appear entirely logical and within the parameters of the Starfleet mission. Pike eases it through the first line of control at the Admiralty. And finally this piece of ornamental bullshit lands on my desk!”
Ah. Those missions. Leonard stares intently at his glass of bourbon.
“I was instrumental in the crafting of the current version of the Prime Directive, you know,” Barnett continues. No, Leonard didn’t know that, actually. “Every one of your knee-jerk interventions weakens the principle and yet the principle remains our supreme responsibility in our interaction with these societies.”
The doctor hesitates. He’s not sober enough to debate this intelligently. He’s not sure that Barnett is either.
“And the things you get away with! You smuggled a grounded cadet onto a ship on the highest alert and you didn’t even get your wrists slapped. Just an instant promotion to CMO on the flagship. In my day we had discipline in the Fleet. We respected our superiors, we followed our fucking orders!”
This all seems a bit unfair given that Jim cheated on the Kobayashi Maru and got made a Captain straight out of the Academy. And there was that ‘saving the Earth’ bit in the middle. But even Leonard can admit that Barnett has something of a point.
Barnett continues as if talking to himself. “Yes, you really fucking annoy me. Every time you defy orders I have the strongest urge to tie you down to a bed and make it really crystal-fucking-clear to you, in detail and repeatedly, whose orders you are supposed to be following. Teach you a fucking lesson.”
Oh my god. Not only does Barnett know that he exists, which he has never realised before, but he has thought about him. Thought about him that way. Leonard stares in astonishment. He may be tipsy but he is beginning to suspect that the Admiral is hopelessly drunk. He’s never spoken to McCoy like this before, never even hinted at anything improper.
Barnett manages drunk well. Only the content of his tirade and the slightest slurring of his words suggest that he is three sheets to the wind. Most people think of McCoy as a cautious man but actually he is as capable of utterly impulsive decisions as Jim is, even if he does it a little less often. Smuggling Jim onboard was one such example, enlisting in Starfleet another. He can feel one such moment coming over him now. He opens his mouth and lets it take him where it will.
“You could teach me that lesson now if you want. That is, if you have nothing more important to do.” Leonard holds his breath as he waits.
“Now?” Barnett stares at him considering. “Yes, why not. A good opportunity. Come along, Lieutenant-Commander.”
He marches off and Leonard follows, wondering what in seven hells he has let himself in for.
*
“Naked. On the bed. On your back. Arms above your head. Now!” Barnett barks.
Leonard scrambles to prove that he can in fact respect his superior officers and follow orders to the letter. The Admiral leans against the wall, glass in hand, and watches him impassively. It is deeply embarrassing and bizarrely hot. Leonard arranges himself as instructed. As he waits, the sweat begins to prickle on his neck. His flesh goose-pimples as a faint breeze wafts across the bed.
Barnett provides himself with a tumbler filled with ice cubes and pours in a measure of whiskey. He then removes the jacket of his dress uniform and takes off the shirt underneath. Leonard watches intently out of the corner of his eye, mesmerized by those powerful dark arms set against the crisp white undershirt.
The Admiral sits down on the bed next to him and uses the shirt to secure his hands to the ornate bedframe favoured by traditional Reguxian décor. Leonard tests the knot surreptitiously - loose enough not to impede circulation but tight enough that he will not be getting out of this any time soon. The man knows what he is doing. Dear god, what do the supposedly prim and proper Admirals get up to behind closed doors? The doctor’s cock twitches happily at the thought.
Barnett silently removes an ice cube from his glass and slowly traces it across Leonard’s chest, circling first one pec and then the other. Leonard shivers at the icy trail across heated skin. The melting cube is then held still against a nipple until the tiny nub is crinkled tight and so cold that it is beginning to burn. The doctor wriggles restlessly and receives a sharp pinch on the arm for his trouble.
“Stay still! You only move when I tell you to. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” Leonard whispers. The depleted cube in placed in the hollow of his collar bone where it slowly melts. He tries not to shiver as tiny trickles of icy water run down the sides of his neck.
“Bend your knees and spread your legs.” Leonard obeys, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure by how wantonly displayed he now is, his distended and leaking cock pressing eagerly up towards his stomach.
A new cube is drawn in complex patterns across his stomach and on the tender insides of his thighs, the Admiral muttering to himself all the while. “You are the most infuriating officer I have ever had the misfortune to command…” Leonard watches in fascination as that vast dark hand runs delicately across his heated skin, leaving shivering trails of cold wherever it goes. “Insubordinate, disobedient, ill-disciplined, wayward…”
The deep voice continues to growl its litany of complaint as the little cube circles his balls and traces up the vein on the underside of his cock. He is shivering and sweating at the same time, unsure if he wants to pull away from the icy chill or push towards the warmth of Barnett’s skin, and constantly reminded by the pull on his wrists that he is unable to do either. He is entirely at the mercy of this severe man.
The trickles of chilled water are running down the crease of his ass, trickling teasingly past the small hole hidden between his buttocks. Now the hand and the ice cube follow them down. “… defiant, wilful, headstrong…” mutters Barnett as the cold little block is held pressed against his pucker while he bites down on his lip to keep his silence. He is shivering and burning and desperate for it to stop and desperate for more.
“Open,” Barnett commands and drops the last of the ice cube into his obediently gaping mouth. Some tiny bit of his doctor’s mind is screaming something about hygiene but most of his brain has long since melted away as a warm tongue, whiskey flavoured, pursues the little cube around the interior of his mouth. He sucks eagerly at the slippery intruder, trying to steal heat from the other man.
Barnett pulls back and sips some more the whiskey, simply watching Leonard for a while, his unreadable expression strangely arousing. The doctor has no idea what the man will do, he is simply the prey tied tight in the web as the spider contemplates its next move.
Without warning the Admiral takes his weeping cock into the depths of his large warm mouth. Leonard bucks up in surprise, the heat a welcome relief after the fiery chill of the ice cube. He pulls unthinkingly against the shirt, desperate to touch and lick at that beautiful brown skin, the colour of bitter-sweet dark chocolate. But all he can do is watch as this man, who can terminate his career with nothing more than a few abrupt orders, instead fills that influential mouth with his pulsing prick.
Barnett pulls off, to his deep disappointment and takes another swallow of the whiskey, sucking in several of the ice cubes at the same time. He crunches down on them, the noise loud in the silence of the room and then bends down once again. Leonard screams as his cock is swallowed once more into a large warm mouth that is now filled with shards of melting ice. He bucks and twists, trying to pull away, but Barnett simply puts a paw of a hand onto each of his thighs and pins him to the bed with his considerable weight. The doctor has no choice but to take it, his body arched tight as a bow as he waits helplessly for the ice to finally melt in the man’s mouth.
When Barnett finally pulls off, he sits up and regards Leonard impassively. “I’m in charge here, Lieutenant-Commander. Are we quite clear about that?”
“Yes sir,” Leonard whispers, still shivery from the icy shock. Seemingly satisfied with what he sees in the doctor’s face, Barnett stands and undresses, each article of clothing neatly folded and put away in his cupboards, as if he has all the time in the world to finish up his chores, as if there is not a naked man tied and waiting on his bed.
Leonard’s erection is rather wilted from the last round of chilly treatment and but the Admiral’s matter-of-fact strip tease is really quite inspiring. It takes Barnett getting naked for the doctor to finally begin to appreciate just how strong this man is. A bull-like neck sits on top of broad shoulders and swollen biceps. Two smooth broad pecs bulge out from his breastbone, each culminating in a large nipple, a few shades darker than the surrounding skin. Belgian chocolates, Leonard thinks hungrily, melt-in-the-mouth milk chocolate topped with two little dark chocolate swirls.
And then the man is moving back towards him, clambering onto the bed and settling astride his thighs. And really, there is only one place his eyes can go, down to the tight dark curls in the Admiral’s groin and the purple-black cock that Barnett is now fisting slowly as he stares impassively back at Leonard. It looks just like its owner, Leonard thinks, tall and broad with a large domed head, a club of a cock and he wonders hopefully where its owner might be thinking of putting it.
Barnett shifts position so that he is now on his hands and knees above the doctor, caging him in between bulging arms and thighs like tree-trunks. A delicious shiver is vibrating in Leonard’s stomach and unconsciously he pushes up towards that powerful body. “You like this, don’t you,” says Barnett as he lowers himself onto his elbows so that his skin touches teasingly against Leonard’s own, the tip of his cock rubbing damp trails on the doctor’s stomach.
“Yes sir,” Leonard whispers as he pushes up to try and maximise the contact, to brush his cock against the other man’s. Barnett pulls away slightly, using his hands and legs to pin Leonard’s extremities down. The doctor moans softly as his arousal spirals in response to the weight and strength of this man’s body.
“Is this what you want, McCoy?” Barnett demands hotly against his ear. “Do you want me to hold you down and ream you out and order you to take it like a man? Tell you that this is what happens to insubordinate soldiers? They get thoroughly buggered by their commanding officers until they learn the error of their ways.”
“God sir, yes sir, please….”
“Well, I think not.” Barnett sits back on his heels and contemplates the doctor. “I don’t think you’ve yet earned the honour. I think another little lesson in who is in charge here might be appropriate first.” He leans over Leonard to pull a tube of lubricant out of a bedside drawer and thoughtfully squeezes a long translucent line up the dark shaft of his cock. Then slowly, meticulously, he beings to spread it across his engorged prick, holding eye contact with the doctor all the while.
“You see, Lieutenant-Commander, the thing is that the Prime Directive states that members of Starfleet are not to interfere in the natural development of pre-warp civilizations...” His large prick slides slickly through his massive fist, the glans, glistening moistly purple, appearing and disappearing in his solid grip. “……either by direct intervention, or technological revelation.” Leonard cannot believe that the Admiral can talk coherently about the Prime Directive at a time like this.
“Are you paying attention, McCoy?” demands Barnett, perhaps noticing that Leonard seems to be staring cross-eyed at his swollen penis rather than appreciating the finer points of his lecture. “Sir, yes sir, no direct intervention sir, no technological revelation sir. Following every word.” Following every movement of those supple fingers more like it. There is nothing like a hospital internship to teach you to rattle off whatever the specialist has just said while not actually paying attention.
Barnett thoughtfully scoops up the pooling pre-ejaculate from the top of his prick and smears sticky fingers across Leonard’s mouth. As he leans forward the doctor can’t help but admire the hilly country of his abdomen, a landscape of ridges and valleys that would make a twenty-year-old proud. If only Jim could see this, Leonard thought, he might be less scathing about the fat asses of the desk-bound Admirals back at HQ. On second thoughts, better that Jim never, ever sees this. He’ll never live it down.
Leonard is shivering with arousal, desperate to touch and taste, desperate for any relief himself but unable to do more than watch fixated as the man towering over him begins to jerk off rapidly now - the plum-like head vanishing and re-emerging ever more quickly in that club of a fist. Leonard is the panting audibly as he watches. Barnett maintains his steady monologue; the discipline of the man is extraordinary.
“You need to remember the damned rules, McCoy.” Barnett is teasing himself now, rubbing a thumb over the sticky bulbous head, running a finger up the pulsing vein standing out prominently on the underside, squeezing rhythmically at the swollen shaft. "No identification of self or mission. No references to space, other worlds, or advanced civilizations. And no interference with the social development of said planet - including medical assistance, you irritating, interfering, bleeding-heart liberal of a doctor!"
Barnett raises himself up slightly on those powerful thighs, aiming his cock like the formidable weapon that it is straight at Leonard’s face. And the powerful body is wracked with a series of deep shudders and pearly white ropes of come are shooting out in vigorous spurts - across Leonard’s chest and neck, across his cheeks and forehead, spattering drops into his eagerly open mouth, gumming up his eyes and trickling down the sides of his face into his ears. The man’s a veritable geyser! Eyes shut, he licks as widely as his tongue can reach to lap up Barnett’s semen. A thick tongue joins with his own, licking his eyes clean so he can open them again.
The Admiral’s face is close to his, looking with clear satisfaction at the mess he has made of the doctor. “Now that is a pretty look on you, Lieutenant-Commander,” he rumbles. He sits back and smears both hands through his come, collecting it up onto his fingers before scooting backwards so that he is now kneeling between Leonard’s legs. “Up,” he commands, spreading the doctor’s thighs high and wide. One massive paw, sticky with lube and come, wraps itself commandingly around the doctor’s sadly neglected erection. The other disappears from sight and without warning two slippery fingers are buried up to the hilt in his asshole. Leonard shouts his surprise, twists and arches, but he is caught between the shirt binding his hands and the hands pinning down his groin, helpless as the Admiral ruthlessly ramps up Leonard’s arousal with authoritative tugs and turns, watching his face all the while, a face marked by Barnett like an ancient warrior imposing the ritual tattoos of the tribe.
“Now, Lieutenant-Commander,” Barnett barks, pulling on his cock with a tight squeezing cockscrew, pressing fingertips pitilessly against his prostate. And Leonard’s body offers up the kind of unquestioning, absolute obedience the Admiral could only dream of receiving from McCoy in any other circumstances. His vision whites out and he is spasming helplessly against his bonds, adding pearlescent stripes across his abdomen and chest to match the now blurred lines left by Barnett.
*
Leonard wakes up a few hours later feeling really rather uncomfortable. His head is sore, his arms ache and his torso and face are tacky with dried come. He tries to wriggle into a more comfortable position and realises that he can’t. He’s tied to the bed.
Oh fuck!
Memories of the previous evening flood back to him - the Prime Directive, the ice, the come, the collapse into drunken and sated slumber. This is definitely the kind of encounter where one partner is meant to slink off into the night. This is not a tender cuddle followed by orange juice and croissants in the morning kind of event. But they are in Barnett’s damned room and he’s still tied to the bed… tied naked and sticky to the bed.
He wriggles his hands desperately but Barnett ties a mean knot and there is no getting out of this. His movement rouses his bed partner. Daylight comes early at this latitude and he is able to observe with mounting concern as the man slowly awakens. Barnett presses a hand to his doubtlessly aching head and slowly cracks his eyes open. He focuses fuzzily on McCoy. Leonard watches in dismayed fascination as the Admiral’s face reflects growing horror morphing into pure panic before shutting down into a blank mask.
“Sir, I’m terribly sorry, I must apologise,” babbles Leonard, in the hope that somehow he will be able to gabble his way out of this one.
“Apologise? I tied you to a bed and jerked off all over you and you’re apologising?”
Barnett’s voice is the deep gravel of the newly awakened and badly hung over.
“Well yes, last night... you were clearly chemically incapacitated and I took advantage of that. I realise that this is a terrible breach of protocol and I hope that you can find it in yourself to overlook this. Perhaps we can just agree that none of this ever happened?” Leonard peers at him hopefully.
Barnett thumps back down against his pillow and covers his eyes with his arm. “So none of this ever happened. Yes, good thinking, Lieutenant-Commander.”
After a long pause during which Leonard is desperately wondering how to bring up the topic of his secured hands, Barnett finally growls, “Why are you still here, McCoy?”
“Because I’m still tied to the bed?” Leonard ventures.
Barnett rolls on to his side and opens his eyes again, really looking at McCoy this time. His eyes wander down from the doctor’s hands, still securely held by his shirt, past the mussed hair and bruised neck, down the broad chest towards his groin.
Unfortunately the effects of a normal morning hard-on have been exacerbated by the futile struggle to free his hands and are now being further enhanced by the thoughtful attention of Barnett’s cool gaze. His erection is cheerfully trying to salute the Admiral. The man’s eyes flick back up to the hot blush that is currently staining Leonard’s cheeks and chest.
“Is there anywhere you need to be this morning?” Barnett asks. McCoy can confidently say no. No one is mad enough to schedule meetings for the morning after a Federation gala dinner.
“I never did get to give you that promised reaming out, did I?” Barnett says thoughtfully.
“No sir, you didn’t. It might be a good idea, reinforce the lesson, drive the message home… so to speak.” He looks hopefully at the other man.
“In that case,” purrs the Admiral, laying a large hand on Leonard’s thigh and moving it slowly, teasingly, towards the crease of his groin, “maybe we can agree that the never happening of things commences a couple of hours from now.”
Leonard can only offer his enthusiastic agreement.
*
Several weeks later selected members of the senior crew of the Enterprise are once again collected together to try and hash out a mission report. McCoy watches with amusement as Spock tries to turn Jim’s wild suggestions into something HQ will approve of. Several thousand lives have been saved by Leonard’s unauthorized intervention, Jim has as ever shown off his special brand of bizarrely innovative solution, and Spock gets to be smugly disapproving while bringing his logical mind to their rescue yet again. A win all round.
And some time tomorrow an amused Pike will see straight through their attempt at a routine mission report. And then he will push it upstairs to Barnett who will be deeply disapproving, as usual. But, thinks the doctor with satisfaction, as he reads it he will also be remembering - just as Leonard is remembering now - certain things that never happened.
- THE END -
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Barnett/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: very mild BDSM
Genre: drama/humour
Word Count: Around 4200
Beta: expertly betaed by the ever-obliging imachar All remaining errors are my own.
Notes: variously inspired by:
skyblue_reverie's lovely McCoy/Chekov temperature play fic Thaw
boosette's The "Tie Dr. McCoy to ALL the Things" Comment-fic-athon!
medie's Awesome People of Colour are Awesome: Comment-a-thon
Summary: Dr McCoy has violated the Prime Directive one time too many. Admiral Barnett is not amused.
Leonard leans over the balcony and looks down on the thinning crowd. For a Federation gala dinner he is rather less tipsy than he might be. It is close to the end of their first year of service and this is their first attendance at a Federation strategy meet-up in their capacity as the senior crew of the Starfleet flagship. He’s been very careful to be on his best behaviour all evening and that means staying relatively sober.
The southern hemisphere of Regux V is warm in summer and the natives don’t believe in air-conditioning, relying rather on high ceilings and fountains. Leonard at last allows himself the luxury of undoing the collar of his dress jacket. He’s got his hands on a glass of top-quality bourbon and he’s going to take his time in enjoying it.
Given that it is three in the morning many of the guests have already left. Only the die-hard revellers remain, swarming around the free bar. He can see Pike still there, inevitably surrounded by a crowd of hopeful admirers. He won’t be wanting for company tonight. Jim has already gone, headed for pastures more horizontal with a giggling young Betazoid on his arm. He looks around for Admiral Barnett but the man has vanished, presumably gone off to bed at a sensible hour as all responsible Admirals should.
The doctor’s mind turns idly to a recent senior staff meeting where Jim, having disposed of most of the day’s business, announced the next pressing matter on the agenda: so, of all the Admiralty, who would you totally do? Leonard had gone with the flow, joining most of the others (those who weren’t spluttering in exasperation like Uhura or raising a supercilious eyebrow like Spock) in picking Pike. But the truth is that, handsome man though he is, Pike is a little too easy-going for him. The man likes him and has got him out of several awkward jams with the brass, a fact that Leonard is very grateful for, but it does mean that Pike doesn’t really get the starring role in the doctor’s more private fantasies.
In the quiet depths of the night he goes for a little more authority, a little less approbation, a firmer hand all round. The little secret that he shares with no one is that the one who really gets his heart racing is Admiral Richard Barnett. Now there is a fine figure of a man who is strict and stern and definitely has no patience for fools. There is a man with the mental discipline and physical size to put Leonard very firmly in his place.
A figure materializes out of the gloom as he ponders. “Lieutenant-Commander McCoy,” says a deep voice flatly. “My least favourite officer in the entire galaxy.” Speak of the devil… or fantasize about him, anyway. Leonard glances over at Admiral Barnett in some surprise. Given how many annoying officers there are in Starfleet, with Jim Kirk clearly heading up the list, he feels that this is a bit harsh.
He’s not sure how to reply. “Yes sir,” seems to imply a worrying lack of self-esteem. “No sir,” means he’s contradicting an Admiral. He settles on “um”.
Barnett leans against the railing next to him, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Leonard is suddenly very conscious of just how big the man is. Leonard is tall and broad in the chest and there are not many officers who dwarf him but Barnett has another four or five inches on him and weighs well over 200 pounds, 200 pounds of pure muscle. He is built like a bear…. a huge, powerful, beautiful brown bear…
“You drive me up the fucking wall,” Barnett continues grimly. “All the mission reports from the Enterprise annoy me but your ones are especially bad.”
“My ones, sir?” Leonard pulls hurriedly out of his fantasy to try and focus on the conversation. He really fails to see how any missions can be particularly pinned on him.
“Your ones. Anything to do with a breach of the Prime Directive almost always has its origins with you. Do you whipper-snappers really think that I can’t read between the lines? You see some medical emergency and demand to solve it with complete disregard to the Prime Directive. Kirk thinks up some hair-brained way to execute the plan. Spock then writes up an appallingly specious mission report designed to make your actions appear entirely logical and within the parameters of the Starfleet mission. Pike eases it through the first line of control at the Admiralty. And finally this piece of ornamental bullshit lands on my desk!”
Ah. Those missions. Leonard stares intently at his glass of bourbon.
“I was instrumental in the crafting of the current version of the Prime Directive, you know,” Barnett continues. No, Leonard didn’t know that, actually. “Every one of your knee-jerk interventions weakens the principle and yet the principle remains our supreme responsibility in our interaction with these societies.”
The doctor hesitates. He’s not sober enough to debate this intelligently. He’s not sure that Barnett is either.
“And the things you get away with! You smuggled a grounded cadet onto a ship on the highest alert and you didn’t even get your wrists slapped. Just an instant promotion to CMO on the flagship. In my day we had discipline in the Fleet. We respected our superiors, we followed our fucking orders!”
This all seems a bit unfair given that Jim cheated on the Kobayashi Maru and got made a Captain straight out of the Academy. And there was that ‘saving the Earth’ bit in the middle. But even Leonard can admit that Barnett has something of a point.
Barnett continues as if talking to himself. “Yes, you really fucking annoy me. Every time you defy orders I have the strongest urge to tie you down to a bed and make it really crystal-fucking-clear to you, in detail and repeatedly, whose orders you are supposed to be following. Teach you a fucking lesson.”
Oh my god. Not only does Barnett know that he exists, which he has never realised before, but he has thought about him. Thought about him that way. Leonard stares in astonishment. He may be tipsy but he is beginning to suspect that the Admiral is hopelessly drunk. He’s never spoken to McCoy like this before, never even hinted at anything improper.
Barnett manages drunk well. Only the content of his tirade and the slightest slurring of his words suggest that he is three sheets to the wind. Most people think of McCoy as a cautious man but actually he is as capable of utterly impulsive decisions as Jim is, even if he does it a little less often. Smuggling Jim onboard was one such example, enlisting in Starfleet another. He can feel one such moment coming over him now. He opens his mouth and lets it take him where it will.
“You could teach me that lesson now if you want. That is, if you have nothing more important to do.” Leonard holds his breath as he waits.
“Now?” Barnett stares at him considering. “Yes, why not. A good opportunity. Come along, Lieutenant-Commander.”
He marches off and Leonard follows, wondering what in seven hells he has let himself in for.
*
“Naked. On the bed. On your back. Arms above your head. Now!” Barnett barks.
Leonard scrambles to prove that he can in fact respect his superior officers and follow orders to the letter. The Admiral leans against the wall, glass in hand, and watches him impassively. It is deeply embarrassing and bizarrely hot. Leonard arranges himself as instructed. As he waits, the sweat begins to prickle on his neck. His flesh goose-pimples as a faint breeze wafts across the bed.
Barnett provides himself with a tumbler filled with ice cubes and pours in a measure of whiskey. He then removes the jacket of his dress uniform and takes off the shirt underneath. Leonard watches intently out of the corner of his eye, mesmerized by those powerful dark arms set against the crisp white undershirt.
The Admiral sits down on the bed next to him and uses the shirt to secure his hands to the ornate bedframe favoured by traditional Reguxian décor. Leonard tests the knot surreptitiously - loose enough not to impede circulation but tight enough that he will not be getting out of this any time soon. The man knows what he is doing. Dear god, what do the supposedly prim and proper Admirals get up to behind closed doors? The doctor’s cock twitches happily at the thought.
Barnett silently removes an ice cube from his glass and slowly traces it across Leonard’s chest, circling first one pec and then the other. Leonard shivers at the icy trail across heated skin. The melting cube is then held still against a nipple until the tiny nub is crinkled tight and so cold that it is beginning to burn. The doctor wriggles restlessly and receives a sharp pinch on the arm for his trouble.
“Stay still! You only move when I tell you to. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” Leonard whispers. The depleted cube in placed in the hollow of his collar bone where it slowly melts. He tries not to shiver as tiny trickles of icy water run down the sides of his neck.
“Bend your knees and spread your legs.” Leonard obeys, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure by how wantonly displayed he now is, his distended and leaking cock pressing eagerly up towards his stomach.
A new cube is drawn in complex patterns across his stomach and on the tender insides of his thighs, the Admiral muttering to himself all the while. “You are the most infuriating officer I have ever had the misfortune to command…” Leonard watches in fascination as that vast dark hand runs delicately across his heated skin, leaving shivering trails of cold wherever it goes. “Insubordinate, disobedient, ill-disciplined, wayward…”
The deep voice continues to growl its litany of complaint as the little cube circles his balls and traces up the vein on the underside of his cock. He is shivering and sweating at the same time, unsure if he wants to pull away from the icy chill or push towards the warmth of Barnett’s skin, and constantly reminded by the pull on his wrists that he is unable to do either. He is entirely at the mercy of this severe man.
The trickles of chilled water are running down the crease of his ass, trickling teasingly past the small hole hidden between his buttocks. Now the hand and the ice cube follow them down. “… defiant, wilful, headstrong…” mutters Barnett as the cold little block is held pressed against his pucker while he bites down on his lip to keep his silence. He is shivering and burning and desperate for it to stop and desperate for more.
“Open,” Barnett commands and drops the last of the ice cube into his obediently gaping mouth. Some tiny bit of his doctor’s mind is screaming something about hygiene but most of his brain has long since melted away as a warm tongue, whiskey flavoured, pursues the little cube around the interior of his mouth. He sucks eagerly at the slippery intruder, trying to steal heat from the other man.
Barnett pulls back and sips some more the whiskey, simply watching Leonard for a while, his unreadable expression strangely arousing. The doctor has no idea what the man will do, he is simply the prey tied tight in the web as the spider contemplates its next move.
Without warning the Admiral takes his weeping cock into the depths of his large warm mouth. Leonard bucks up in surprise, the heat a welcome relief after the fiery chill of the ice cube. He pulls unthinkingly against the shirt, desperate to touch and lick at that beautiful brown skin, the colour of bitter-sweet dark chocolate. But all he can do is watch as this man, who can terminate his career with nothing more than a few abrupt orders, instead fills that influential mouth with his pulsing prick.
Barnett pulls off, to his deep disappointment and takes another swallow of the whiskey, sucking in several of the ice cubes at the same time. He crunches down on them, the noise loud in the silence of the room and then bends down once again. Leonard screams as his cock is swallowed once more into a large warm mouth that is now filled with shards of melting ice. He bucks and twists, trying to pull away, but Barnett simply puts a paw of a hand onto each of his thighs and pins him to the bed with his considerable weight. The doctor has no choice but to take it, his body arched tight as a bow as he waits helplessly for the ice to finally melt in the man’s mouth.
When Barnett finally pulls off, he sits up and regards Leonard impassively. “I’m in charge here, Lieutenant-Commander. Are we quite clear about that?”
“Yes sir,” Leonard whispers, still shivery from the icy shock. Seemingly satisfied with what he sees in the doctor’s face, Barnett stands and undresses, each article of clothing neatly folded and put away in his cupboards, as if he has all the time in the world to finish up his chores, as if there is not a naked man tied and waiting on his bed.
Leonard’s erection is rather wilted from the last round of chilly treatment and but the Admiral’s matter-of-fact strip tease is really quite inspiring. It takes Barnett getting naked for the doctor to finally begin to appreciate just how strong this man is. A bull-like neck sits on top of broad shoulders and swollen biceps. Two smooth broad pecs bulge out from his breastbone, each culminating in a large nipple, a few shades darker than the surrounding skin. Belgian chocolates, Leonard thinks hungrily, melt-in-the-mouth milk chocolate topped with two little dark chocolate swirls.
And then the man is moving back towards him, clambering onto the bed and settling astride his thighs. And really, there is only one place his eyes can go, down to the tight dark curls in the Admiral’s groin and the purple-black cock that Barnett is now fisting slowly as he stares impassively back at Leonard. It looks just like its owner, Leonard thinks, tall and broad with a large domed head, a club of a cock and he wonders hopefully where its owner might be thinking of putting it.
Barnett shifts position so that he is now on his hands and knees above the doctor, caging him in between bulging arms and thighs like tree-trunks. A delicious shiver is vibrating in Leonard’s stomach and unconsciously he pushes up towards that powerful body. “You like this, don’t you,” says Barnett as he lowers himself onto his elbows so that his skin touches teasingly against Leonard’s own, the tip of his cock rubbing damp trails on the doctor’s stomach.
“Yes sir,” Leonard whispers as he pushes up to try and maximise the contact, to brush his cock against the other man’s. Barnett pulls away slightly, using his hands and legs to pin Leonard’s extremities down. The doctor moans softly as his arousal spirals in response to the weight and strength of this man’s body.
“Is this what you want, McCoy?” Barnett demands hotly against his ear. “Do you want me to hold you down and ream you out and order you to take it like a man? Tell you that this is what happens to insubordinate soldiers? They get thoroughly buggered by their commanding officers until they learn the error of their ways.”
“God sir, yes sir, please….”
“Well, I think not.” Barnett sits back on his heels and contemplates the doctor. “I don’t think you’ve yet earned the honour. I think another little lesson in who is in charge here might be appropriate first.” He leans over Leonard to pull a tube of lubricant out of a bedside drawer and thoughtfully squeezes a long translucent line up the dark shaft of his cock. Then slowly, meticulously, he beings to spread it across his engorged prick, holding eye contact with the doctor all the while.
“You see, Lieutenant-Commander, the thing is that the Prime Directive states that members of Starfleet are not to interfere in the natural development of pre-warp civilizations...” His large prick slides slickly through his massive fist, the glans, glistening moistly purple, appearing and disappearing in his solid grip. “……either by direct intervention, or technological revelation.” Leonard cannot believe that the Admiral can talk coherently about the Prime Directive at a time like this.
“Are you paying attention, McCoy?” demands Barnett, perhaps noticing that Leonard seems to be staring cross-eyed at his swollen penis rather than appreciating the finer points of his lecture. “Sir, yes sir, no direct intervention sir, no technological revelation sir. Following every word.” Following every movement of those supple fingers more like it. There is nothing like a hospital internship to teach you to rattle off whatever the specialist has just said while not actually paying attention.
Barnett thoughtfully scoops up the pooling pre-ejaculate from the top of his prick and smears sticky fingers across Leonard’s mouth. As he leans forward the doctor can’t help but admire the hilly country of his abdomen, a landscape of ridges and valleys that would make a twenty-year-old proud. If only Jim could see this, Leonard thought, he might be less scathing about the fat asses of the desk-bound Admirals back at HQ. On second thoughts, better that Jim never, ever sees this. He’ll never live it down.
Leonard is shivering with arousal, desperate to touch and taste, desperate for any relief himself but unable to do more than watch fixated as the man towering over him begins to jerk off rapidly now - the plum-like head vanishing and re-emerging ever more quickly in that club of a fist. Leonard is the panting audibly as he watches. Barnett maintains his steady monologue; the discipline of the man is extraordinary.
“You need to remember the damned rules, McCoy.” Barnett is teasing himself now, rubbing a thumb over the sticky bulbous head, running a finger up the pulsing vein standing out prominently on the underside, squeezing rhythmically at the swollen shaft. "No identification of self or mission. No references to space, other worlds, or advanced civilizations. And no interference with the social development of said planet - including medical assistance, you irritating, interfering, bleeding-heart liberal of a doctor!"
Barnett raises himself up slightly on those powerful thighs, aiming his cock like the formidable weapon that it is straight at Leonard’s face. And the powerful body is wracked with a series of deep shudders and pearly white ropes of come are shooting out in vigorous spurts - across Leonard’s chest and neck, across his cheeks and forehead, spattering drops into his eagerly open mouth, gumming up his eyes and trickling down the sides of his face into his ears. The man’s a veritable geyser! Eyes shut, he licks as widely as his tongue can reach to lap up Barnett’s semen. A thick tongue joins with his own, licking his eyes clean so he can open them again.
The Admiral’s face is close to his, looking with clear satisfaction at the mess he has made of the doctor. “Now that is a pretty look on you, Lieutenant-Commander,” he rumbles. He sits back and smears both hands through his come, collecting it up onto his fingers before scooting backwards so that he is now kneeling between Leonard’s legs. “Up,” he commands, spreading the doctor’s thighs high and wide. One massive paw, sticky with lube and come, wraps itself commandingly around the doctor’s sadly neglected erection. The other disappears from sight and without warning two slippery fingers are buried up to the hilt in his asshole. Leonard shouts his surprise, twists and arches, but he is caught between the shirt binding his hands and the hands pinning down his groin, helpless as the Admiral ruthlessly ramps up Leonard’s arousal with authoritative tugs and turns, watching his face all the while, a face marked by Barnett like an ancient warrior imposing the ritual tattoos of the tribe.
“Now, Lieutenant-Commander,” Barnett barks, pulling on his cock with a tight squeezing cockscrew, pressing fingertips pitilessly against his prostate. And Leonard’s body offers up the kind of unquestioning, absolute obedience the Admiral could only dream of receiving from McCoy in any other circumstances. His vision whites out and he is spasming helplessly against his bonds, adding pearlescent stripes across his abdomen and chest to match the now blurred lines left by Barnett.
*
Leonard wakes up a few hours later feeling really rather uncomfortable. His head is sore, his arms ache and his torso and face are tacky with dried come. He tries to wriggle into a more comfortable position and realises that he can’t. He’s tied to the bed.
Oh fuck!
Memories of the previous evening flood back to him - the Prime Directive, the ice, the come, the collapse into drunken and sated slumber. This is definitely the kind of encounter where one partner is meant to slink off into the night. This is not a tender cuddle followed by orange juice and croissants in the morning kind of event. But they are in Barnett’s damned room and he’s still tied to the bed… tied naked and sticky to the bed.
He wriggles his hands desperately but Barnett ties a mean knot and there is no getting out of this. His movement rouses his bed partner. Daylight comes early at this latitude and he is able to observe with mounting concern as the man slowly awakens. Barnett presses a hand to his doubtlessly aching head and slowly cracks his eyes open. He focuses fuzzily on McCoy. Leonard watches in dismayed fascination as the Admiral’s face reflects growing horror morphing into pure panic before shutting down into a blank mask.
“Sir, I’m terribly sorry, I must apologise,” babbles Leonard, in the hope that somehow he will be able to gabble his way out of this one.
“Apologise? I tied you to a bed and jerked off all over you and you’re apologising?”
Barnett’s voice is the deep gravel of the newly awakened and badly hung over.
“Well yes, last night... you were clearly chemically incapacitated and I took advantage of that. I realise that this is a terrible breach of protocol and I hope that you can find it in yourself to overlook this. Perhaps we can just agree that none of this ever happened?” Leonard peers at him hopefully.
Barnett thumps back down against his pillow and covers his eyes with his arm. “So none of this ever happened. Yes, good thinking, Lieutenant-Commander.”
After a long pause during which Leonard is desperately wondering how to bring up the topic of his secured hands, Barnett finally growls, “Why are you still here, McCoy?”
“Because I’m still tied to the bed?” Leonard ventures.
Barnett rolls on to his side and opens his eyes again, really looking at McCoy this time. His eyes wander down from the doctor’s hands, still securely held by his shirt, past the mussed hair and bruised neck, down the broad chest towards his groin.
Unfortunately the effects of a normal morning hard-on have been exacerbated by the futile struggle to free his hands and are now being further enhanced by the thoughtful attention of Barnett’s cool gaze. His erection is cheerfully trying to salute the Admiral. The man’s eyes flick back up to the hot blush that is currently staining Leonard’s cheeks and chest.
“Is there anywhere you need to be this morning?” Barnett asks. McCoy can confidently say no. No one is mad enough to schedule meetings for the morning after a Federation gala dinner.
“I never did get to give you that promised reaming out, did I?” Barnett says thoughtfully.
“No sir, you didn’t. It might be a good idea, reinforce the lesson, drive the message home… so to speak.” He looks hopefully at the other man.
“In that case,” purrs the Admiral, laying a large hand on Leonard’s thigh and moving it slowly, teasingly, towards the crease of his groin, “maybe we can agree that the never happening of things commences a couple of hours from now.”
Leonard can only offer his enthusiastic agreement.
*
Several weeks later selected members of the senior crew of the Enterprise are once again collected together to try and hash out a mission report. McCoy watches with amusement as Spock tries to turn Jim’s wild suggestions into something HQ will approve of. Several thousand lives have been saved by Leonard’s unauthorized intervention, Jim has as ever shown off his special brand of bizarrely innovative solution, and Spock gets to be smugly disapproving while bringing his logical mind to their rescue yet again. A win all round.
And some time tomorrow an amused Pike will see straight through their attempt at a routine mission report. And then he will push it upstairs to Barnett who will be deeply disapproving, as usual. But, thinks the doctor with satisfaction, as he reads it he will also be remembering - just as Leonard is remembering now - certain things that never happened.
- THE END -