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brown paper packages tied up in strings~
Oct. 4th, 2023 05:36 pmThis is a terrible idea. This is the kind of idea that should have stayed where it started; an off hand comment that somehow slunk into the back of Jim's mind and curled up there in the darkness waiting until he was too stupid to ignore it any longer. This is the kind of idea that--fuck, he doesn't even have the words for what this idea is, and Jim Kirk has words for everything. He should get this idea out of his head, get out of this room and--
Point is, it's been a shit week for all of them, but it's been a shit week for Medical most of all. An away mission gone wrong under Spock's command so Jim's fine while his number one is injured and of course there's Bones who won't let anyone else take the brunt of it, who's worked to make sure he can save as many of the away team as he can (and has, saved every one of those damn ensigns, because he's a damn good doctor), not leaving medbay until he knew each of them was stable. Point is, Bones is a damn good doctor and a Starfleet hero even if he won't admit it, and he needs something to help him relax. Point is he's slept eight hours in his office in medbay because Chapel just about sat on him until he did, but now he's headed back to his quarters and Jim knows he needs something to take his mind off the work he's been doing or he'll spiral.
And so the point is Jim's here.
He's here laying in Bones' bed, spread out for him like some kind of damn painting, trying to be that distraction.
It started as a comment, quiet enough only Jim could hear, off hand and sarcastic (genuinely, half their language is spoken this way, both of them fluent in the dance that belays any hurt that might otherwise sting) after a comment made by a crewman about their wife's lingerie, that maybe Someday Jim might actually 'get pretty for him'.
He could see it then; the stretch of lace over muscle, the splash of color over pale skin, the way Bones might look at him in it. So it'd stuck, heady and heated even though he's half-sure it was a joke, mostly ignored. Except for when they stopped earth side and Jim slipped away to a store to buy something under the knowing eyes of a shopkeep. Until now. When he's spread out on Bones' sheets, a mess of red lace and want that he doesn't know how to fully contain.
The panties stretch lewdly across his half-hard cock, the line of it just barely visible under the pattern of the lace, the garter belt and straps slipping down his legs to hook on red stockings, thin enough that Bones can likely see the muscles of his calves under the pull of them. Lace ghosts over his hips, straps and florals in contrast to the muscle there, pattern achingly feminine but Jim so unmistakably masculine. All of it spread over him so he looks like a damn present ready to be unwrapped.
This is the worst idea. Right?
He swallows, hard, against his nerves (give him Romulans any day, those he can handle), and manages not to startle too heavily when the door slides open and announces Bones' arrival. Too late to change his mind now; if nothing else, maybe the good doctor will get a laugh out of it. He drags in a breath and lets it out, all of his muscles tight, torn between the dark desire of this and the fear he's read the situation completely wrong--
"Hey Bones, hear you had kind of a shit day."
Point is, it's been a shit week for all of them, but it's been a shit week for Medical most of all. An away mission gone wrong under Spock's command so Jim's fine while his number one is injured and of course there's Bones who won't let anyone else take the brunt of it, who's worked to make sure he can save as many of the away team as he can (and has, saved every one of those damn ensigns, because he's a damn good doctor), not leaving medbay until he knew each of them was stable. Point is, Bones is a damn good doctor and a Starfleet hero even if he won't admit it, and he needs something to help him relax. Point is he's slept eight hours in his office in medbay because Chapel just about sat on him until he did, but now he's headed back to his quarters and Jim knows he needs something to take his mind off the work he's been doing or he'll spiral.
And so the point is Jim's here.
He's here laying in Bones' bed, spread out for him like some kind of damn painting, trying to be that distraction.
It started as a comment, quiet enough only Jim could hear, off hand and sarcastic (genuinely, half their language is spoken this way, both of them fluent in the dance that belays any hurt that might otherwise sting) after a comment made by a crewman about their wife's lingerie, that maybe Someday Jim might actually 'get pretty for him'.
He could see it then; the stretch of lace over muscle, the splash of color over pale skin, the way Bones might look at him in it. So it'd stuck, heady and heated even though he's half-sure it was a joke, mostly ignored. Except for when they stopped earth side and Jim slipped away to a store to buy something under the knowing eyes of a shopkeep. Until now. When he's spread out on Bones' sheets, a mess of red lace and want that he doesn't know how to fully contain.
The panties stretch lewdly across his half-hard cock, the line of it just barely visible under the pattern of the lace, the garter belt and straps slipping down his legs to hook on red stockings, thin enough that Bones can likely see the muscles of his calves under the pull of them. Lace ghosts over his hips, straps and florals in contrast to the muscle there, pattern achingly feminine but Jim so unmistakably masculine. All of it spread over him so he looks like a damn present ready to be unwrapped.
This is the worst idea. Right?
He swallows, hard, against his nerves (give him Romulans any day, those he can handle), and manages not to startle too heavily when the door slides open and announces Bones' arrival. Too late to change his mind now; if nothing else, maybe the good doctor will get a laugh out of it. He drags in a breath and lets it out, all of his muscles tight, torn between the dark desire of this and the fear he's read the situation completely wrong--
"Hey Bones, hear you had kind of a shit day."
