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‘I knew you weren’t him. Not really him.’
The almost-familiar voice tugged Jim back to bleary consciousness before he could even remember how he had come to be unconscious in the first place. He could remember anxiety over insignia and salutes, uniforms not-quite-right running all over his ship and Spock with a fucking beard (and Jim had thought, with a mad sort of hysteria, that it kind of suited him) and after faking a pleased smirk for the third bit of casual brutality of his bridge-but-not his only thought had been Bones. He had to find Bones, because even in this universe Bones couldn’t be like the others, wouldn’t...
Cringing with creeping recollection, Jim cracked open his eyes. This reality’s version of Bones stood over him, scrutinizing him with the same eyebrow shot upward towards where his hair spiked messy and mad all over his forehead. It could almost be his Bones, except even on that first shuttle ride out of Iowa, his Bones had never looked so dangerously unhinged.
And his Bones would never have knocked him out with a hypo... okay, fine, his Bones would totally do that. But Jim had never woken up from those incidents stripped naked and strapped into some scary examination chair with his legs... he squinted down to confirm. His ankles were strapped into stirrups and splayed so wide that his thighs were already starting to ache. ‘Bones...?’
The faint amusement twitching around Bones’ mouth stopped dead. ‘Don’t call me that,’ he spat, eyes narrowing. ‘You’re not the Captain, just some fucking imposter.’
‘Yeah, I know...’ Jim tugged at the straps binding his wrists above his head while aiming for a calm tone of voice. ‘I know I don’t belong here, but that’s why I came to see you, I knew you would-’
Bones barked a bitter laugh. ‘Oh, yeah, sure. That was my first clue, you fucking moron. You want to know how I guessed it?’
Jim nodded silently, biting hard at the inside of his lip.
‘Because,’ he drawled, low and cruel, ‘if you were really my Captain, you wouldn’t have bothered with any of your fucking small talk, or whatever the hell that was supposed to be. You’d have grabbed me by the throat and had me on my knees without saying a single goddamn word.’
He prowled in closer as he spoke, heavy-lidded eyes aimed downward, ignoring Jim’s startled stare. ‘You were too nice,’ he murmured. ‘Too fucking sweet. But I wasn’t sure. But now? I know you’re not him.’
‘Yeah?’ Jim retorted sharply, hoping the attempt at a challenge would at least draw Bones’ eyes away from his crotch. ‘And how’s that? Is my dick bigger than his?’
‘You wish.’ A hint of wry humour sparked briefly in Bones’ eyes. ‘But no, it’s what you’re missing. A scar, here.’
Bones unfolded the arms he had crossed tightly over his chest, and Jim’s eyes widened at the glinting scalpel between his fingers. The blade flicked in the clinical overhead lighting, so quickly that Jim flinched and gasped despite himself but it stilled with frightening precision, tip barely touching the skin between his left thigh and groin. He held his breath, staring down his naked body at the narrow point of light.
‘The first time you tried to have me,’ Bones explained, eerily calm, ‘you pinned me down to the floor and shoved your dick down my throat... but I was ready for you. I sliced you open, aimed for the external iliac artery. If I’d done it right, you’d have bled out in hardly any time at all.’
His hand moved without warning and Jim cried out as the scalpel sliced cleanly through skin and blood welled hot over his thigh and dripped down to his buttocks. He swallowed hard around the fear and nausea that was slowly creeping into his mind.
‘I missed.’ Bones dropped the scalpel, his fingers lingering on the wound he had made. ‘Got twelve hours in the agony booth for my trouble, and next time you came for me, I let you have whatever you wanted. And every time after that. So many times... your favourite fucktoy, that’s what you said I was...’
Bones dropped to his knees with a grace that could only come from practice, and the idea of Bones having that kind of experience made Jim’s heart thunder and break well before Bones’ lips pressed his inner thigh. He licked, nuzzled and nipped his way deeper between Jim’s obscenely spread legs, mouthing through trickling blood and tonguing expertly at his balls and further down with an unnerving intimacy. Shuddering with shame, he tried to flex his thighs slightly closed and groaned when Bones clutched at his knees with both hands, forcing him wide open again.
‘Stop it,’ Jim demanded roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. Clearly Bones was doing this because he thought he had to, and if Jim just told him to stop he could end this, and...
And Bones bit him, hard, right in the crease of his thigh where he was still bleeding and Jim swore he could feel his flesh tearing wider under those teeth. He shouted hoarsely, wordlessly, shaking because he couldn’t get away or fight back and he had to get his breathing under control because Bones was looking at him with feverish eyes that drank him in with malicious pleasure.
‘Stop? I don’t think so.’ He smeared a bloody-mouthed parody of a kiss onto Jim’s clean right thigh. ‘No, I want you to know what losing control feels like... feel every damn thing you’ve done to me...’
‘That wasn’t me.’ The numb protest slipped weakly from Jim’s mouth, something in his stomach sinking as Bones surged back to his feet and tugged his shirts over his head. This version of the man had Bones’ muscular build honed to hardened efficiency, but it was the pattern of abuse on his skin that made Jim wince - a layered lattice of lash marks covering his back, unmistakable bites bruised over his shoulders and collarbones. ‘That wasn’t me,’ he repeated, and it felt more like a plea for forgiveness, for being anything like the monster that would use Bones like this. ‘I can’t explain... and I’m sorry, I am, but-’
An open palm cracked across his face. ‘I don’t want your fucking pity,’ Bones snarled. ‘In fact, I don’t want you to say another goddamn thing unless I tell you to, got it?’
Chest tight, bound limbs trembling with strain, Jim nodded once and closed his eyes but shutting out the twisted vision of his best friend did nothing to shake his irrational guilt. He pressed his lips tight and didn’t complain when skilled surgeon’s fingers pushed ruthlessly into him, sticky rather than slick and his stomach lurched to realize that Bones was probably using his blood to ease the way. The ill-accustomed stretch burned but he braced for worse, waited for more fingers or something larger to penetrate him, and couldn’t withhold a faint whimper when canny fingertips found and stroked deliberately over his prostate.
‘Does that feel good, darling?’ Another firm prod of too-knowing fingers set arousal coursing unwillingly through Jim’s body, nudging out relentless waves of pleasure that made his traitorous cock throb heavily upwards for attention. Bones’ other hand raked over his bare torso, blunt fingernails scratching over hardening nipples and heaving ribs but ignoring the length of his sudden need. ‘That’s good, baby, you like this, I can tell... I know what you like...’
Jim turned his head sideways into the upward bend of his arm to muffle a groan. Revulsion warred with lust in his bloodstream, the frantic need to get away from those hands competing with the desire to have more of Bones’ touch, more of that sinfully trained mouth, that tongue lapping his cock like a good subservient whore...
Another rush of guilt crashed through him but it was too late, he was coming, from nothing more than the fingers in his ass, still working his prostate with brutal tenacity. His cock spasmed freely, spilling untouched onto his stomach until he slumped defeated in the chair, splayed legs shaking in the stirrups, groggily thankful to have the thing done so quickly, and merely twitched when the fingers inside him gave his overstimulated prostate another lingering stroke.
And another stroke. Jim winced, bit his lip.
A slow push, harder and painfully intense. He gasped, sounding too much like a sob. Bones wasn’t stopping, and despite his physical and emotional exhaustion Jim could feel his cock stirring again, far too soon after the first shattering orgasm. Beyond the obvious, something about this just wasn’t right. ‘What the hell did you do to me?’
The fingers pulled carelessly from his body and Jim shouted again as another heavy slap landed across his face. ‘Thought I told you to shut up,’ Bones snapped, clapping his hand over Jim’s mouth. ‘Besides,’ he added with a stern hitch of the eyebrow, ‘you should trust your doctor.’ Jim’s panicking gaze, following the sideways reach of his other hand towards a nearby tray of medical implements, saw the alarming number of depleted vials discarded next to the hypospray. Only one of those would have been used to knock him out, the rest...
His wild speculations stuttered to a stop as he spotted the instrument Bones had found among his hypos and blades, something like a nightmarish pairing of a scanner with a laparoscope. It resembled nothing he had ever seen in his reality’s medical bay, but it didn’t take much imagination to guess how Bones intended to use the damn thing. The way he drew the rounded tip of the thing through the cooling semen on his stomach was suggestive enough.
Bones forced two of his fingers between Jim’s lips in the same moment that the probing instrument penetrated him, thrusting both in a lewd rhythm that belied the cruel detachment of the man doing this to him, watching his reactions with merely clinical appreciation. Impossibly, he was rock-hard again, coils of unwanted pleasure unraveling from his overstimulated prostate and knotting themselves into the base of his spine.
Desperately, Jim bit down hard on the fingers fucking his mouth because it was the only thing he could do. Bones groaned painfully, but didn’t try to retrieve his fingers; on the contrary, Jim saw a frisson of pleasure pass over Bones’ face just before he thumbed a control on the scanner and vibrations tore through Jim’s body, whiting out his vision and stealing his breath. He came again, a harsh sensation among many that shot through his limbs and quickened his pulse to a frantic ache in his chest.
‘That’s better...’ Bones slipped his spit-slick fingers from Jim’s panting mouth, tracing down his sternum to the fresh spatters of his second release. ‘See how good I am at pleasuring you?’
Jim choked on an inarticulate reply, unable to speak with the vibrating length of the scanner still sliding in and out of his ass, now with a teasing twist at the end of each thrust. The third orgasm was even more devastating than the second, searing his nerve endings with helpless arousal and tearing a strangled scream from his throat.
By the fifth orgasm, Bones had finally deigned to touch his cock, cooing encouraging filth while Jim exploded into his hand with a desperate whimper. The seventh reduced him to begging, Bones’ throat working over his aching length, his senses far too gone to tell what sort of release he was pleading for anymore.
Bones waited until his ninth orgasm, a vicious thing no longer resembling pleasure, had forced tears to his eyes before freeing his own cock from his pants and shoving himself effortlessly into Jim’s abused ass. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty,’ he gasped, tangling a hand in Jim’s sweat-tangled hair while his tongue lapped over the salty damp staining his cheeks and lips. ‘Pretty little cockslut... always knew you’d be...’ Bones’ heated words trailed off with a needy moan, too worked up to do anything but devour the shaking remains of Jim’s body, sucking on his swollen lower lip and pinching hard at sore nipples in hopes of yielding more cries from Jim’s parched throat while his hips worked their way towards a single powerful orgasm, flooding into him with a long, satisfied groan. Jim shuddered at the wetness seeping inside his over-sensitized hole, hiccuping weakly around another involuntary sob.
‘Shh...’ Bones was petting his hair now, still rocking into him with gentle movements that set his teeth on edge. ‘Easy, darling...’ The smooth drawl of his voice was a perversion of the caring man Jim swore he’d known once, so long ago. ‘Let it all out, let me see...’
‘Spock to McCoy.’
Bones froze, staring down into Jim’s wide-open eyes. He hesitated, then pushed away abruptly, fumbling and cramming a balled-up wad of emergency bandaging into Jim’s mouth before flipping open his communicator. ‘McCoy here,’ he snapped.
’I am attempting to locate the Captain. I believe he was en route to sickbay not that long ago.’
Jim watched helplessly as Bones scrubbed a hand through his hair, sharp mind working fast. ‘Yeah, he was here,’ he said breezily. ‘He was also a goddamn imposter. Another one of those parasites from that alternate dimension.’
’Indeed? I’d had my suspicions. And where is he now?’
‘I’ve disposed of him, of course, seeing as no one from security seemed fit to do their goddamn jobs.’ The anger in Bones’ voice was beyond convincing. ‘Is that all? Captain?’
A heavy pause crackled in the air, Jim breathing hard through his nose as he waited, hoping...
’That will suffice. Spock out.’
Jim closed his eyes, utterly lost.
‘None of that, sweetheart.’ That drawling voice closed in on him again. ‘No need for fretting, I’m not gonna kill you.’
Long fingers slipped into his come-slicked ass, meeting no more resistance.
‘Think I’ll have to keep you.’