Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot, Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17 liekwoah.
Warnings: BDSM, discussion of non-con (not of a main character)
Word Count: Around 25,000
Summary: Modern day FBI AU. Jim and Bones are partners who have just been given a new undercover assignment.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N : Many thanks to ellie_pierson for the fast and fabulous beta job! This is mah bff ennui_blue_lite's long-overdue birthday fic. She gave me my choice of using the prompt "Masters/slaves; Doms/subs" from my kink bingo card or "Undercover; forced to hurt your partner" from my hurt/comfort bingo card. This monstrosity of a plot bunny was the result. I hope it was worth the wait, honey. I love you madly, now & always.
Link to all parts:
"New assignment, Bones!" Jim waved the file at Bones as he sat down at the metal desk that was pushed face-to-face with his partner's. "This one is going to be awesome. We're going undercover at a kinky sex club in San Francisco. Whips and chains and leather and shit. I am so looking forward to making you crawl around on the floor and tugging you around on a leash. I can just see the scowl on your face now, only you'll have to hide it and be a good little sex slave."
Bones took the news of their new assignment in stride, barely blinking before he said, "And why exactly is it that you think I should be the sub in this situation?" He lifted a lazy eyebrow, and oh crap, Jim knew that look. It was the one he always had on his face just before he confronted suspects with the irrefutable evidence of their guilt. The nail-in-the-coffin look, Jim called it privately.
Still, Jim's trademark was bravado over good sense, so he forged on. "Come on, Bones, we both know I'm the natural choice to be the Dom. Do you really think you'd be able to pull off strutting into a BDSM club like you own the place? Or like you own me? I bet you've never even set foot in one of those places." Not like he himself had, but Bones didn't need to know that.
"Oh yeah? You'd lose that bet, kid."
"Bullshit." The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "You're a --”
The eyebrow lifted a little higher. "I'm a what, Jim? A prude? A blushing virgin? I do actually have a sex life, even if I don't flaunt it like you do."
Jim waved this away. "Sure, I know you've had sex. You've been married, for fuck's sake. But I figured..."
"What, it's always been vanilla? Candlelight and romance and sweet words and the missionary position?"
Jim flushed. To the extent he'd ever thought about Bones' sex life, which, okay, was more than he wanted to admit, yeah, that's exactly how he'd pictured it.
Bones laughed. Threw his head back and outright laughed and that, more than anything, threw Jim's world-view off-kilter. How and when had he stepped into an alternate universe?
"Those things have their place, Jim. I enjoy 'em. But it's not all I enjoy. So to answer your question, yeah, I have been to BDSM clubs. Not in San Francisco, but I know the scene well enough that I'll fit in. Besides, you'll be such a pretty little sub, wearing a leather collar and hardly anything else that no one's going to be giving me a second glance."
Jim gulped, and his pants suddenly felt too tight. Yeah, the nail-in-the-coffin look was justified yet again. He was going to have to think about this new side of Bones that had just been revealed, but it was going to have to wait until he had some time and privacy. And a lot of lube. He'd never thought he was into that leather-and-chains stuff, but it was suddenly sounding pretty appealing, and hey, he was an open-minded guy. He cleared his throat and tried to get this conversation back along professional lines.
"All right, fine. You'll be the Dom and I'll be the sub. The club is called Narada. The target is the club's owner, Michael Nero, and he's generally at the club in the evening on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. He circulates for an hour or so and then goes to a private room in the back to talk business. Rumor is that he's running a sex slave market. Not like master-slave role-playing shit, but actually buying and selling people. Forced prostitution. So we're supposed to infiltrate and gather evidence. Plant surveillance if we can, but mostly pose as clients and gain Nero's trust. Hopefully eventually get enough information to bring the whole thing down."
Bones' face tightened. "Yeah, all right. And if they're actually running a slave ring, we'll make everyone involved regret that their mamas ever laid eyes on their daddies."
Jim grinned. Bones was just so cute when he got all southern. Not to mention that it was sexy as hell when he was tough and serious. The combination of southern plus tough and serious was just about irresistible.
"This is gonna be a deep cover assignment, Bones. Bureau's setting up an apartment for us, false identities, the whole nine yards. No outside contact for the duration. This is a top priority. We stick with it as long as it takes."
Bones nodded, as Jim expected. Most agents would have protested the "no outside contact" clause but he and Bones -- well, neither of them had much of a life outside of work. Fun, yeah, Jim had plenty of fun, and it seemed like maybe Bones had been having more fun than Jim knew about. But except for each other, neither of them had any close ties. It was probably why they'd been picked for this assignment. Well, that and the fact that they'd both look awesome in leather.
Okay, so leather was way more uncomfortable than he'd anticipated. But his ass had never looked so amazing, which made it totally worth it. Bones had also insisted that he shave his chest. For "realism," he claimed. Jim suspected he just enjoyed jerking Jim's chain, pun fully intended. Still, the smooth-chested look was pretty nice on him, if he did say so himself. And when Jim insisted that Bones do the same, he'd given in with a minimum of grumbling. The smooth-chested look was even nicer on Bones. In fact, it was downright distracting.
They'd been living in this apartment for a week, establishing their identities as a sugar daddy and his boy-toy who'd just moved to town. It had taken that long to learn some of the players in the local scene and get to know them. Narada was apparently the hottest BDSM ticket in town, so you had to be on the guest list to have a prayer of getting in.
As for their credentials, Bones had a fake medical license, which, since he'd gone to med school and started his residency before quitting to join the FBI instead, was a natural fit. He'd be able to pose as a doctor easily. In this case, the kind of doctor who didn't ask too many pesky questions before writing generous prescriptions for those who could afford his "consultation" fees. Jim's undercover identity was to be his arm candy and, of course, his sub. His job was basically to look vacant and pretty. It wasn't much of a challenge so far, except for constantly having to stifle his usual habit of snarking at Bones, at least whenever they were out in public.
They had a two-bedroom apartment, but there was a chance that they'd have to entertain guests in their undercover roles. So they'd set one room up as a master bedroom, and the other as a study, with a lumpy couch that they'd take turns sleeping on, while the other took the comfy bed in the bedroom. It wasn't ideal, but Jim had certainly slept in worse conditions.
Tonight, they were both getting dressed for their first visit to Narada, Jim in their shared bathroom, and Bones in the master bedroom. Jim was wearing black leather pants and not much else. He examined himself in the bathroom mirror, artfully spiked up his hair, and called it done. He was looking pretty damn good.
Then Jim stepped into the bedroom, and got an eyeful of his partner. "Pretty damn good" didn't begin to cover it. Jim's jaw didn't drop open, but it was a close thing. Bones was wearing leather pants like Jim's, but he was wearing a tight black t-shirt as well. And black leather boots. And black leather cuffs around his wrists. Jim swallowed. Bones' hair looked different as well. Somehow less "solid citizen" and more "hot gay Dom who totally knows what he's doing." Holy crap, how had he never before realized he had a fetish for this kind of thing?
Luckily, Bones didn't seem to notice Jim's reaction. "Finished primping? Then c'mere," he said, in his usual grumpy tone of voice. Jim relaxed a little, sauntered over to where Bones was standing. Then nearly passed out again as Bones reached out and snapped a leather collar around his neck. It matched Bones' wrist-cuffs. Jim turned and looked at the two of them standing next to each other in the bureau mirror. It surprised him, how natural they looked together like this. His eyes were wide and words were beyond him, but Bones just looked him over critically. "Hmm, something's missing." He stepped into the bathroom and emerged a moment later with a towel draped over his arm and a bottle of something -- looked like some kind of clear body oil -- in his hand. He tossed it to Jim.
"Here, grease yourself up. Just a thin layer on your torso and arms."
Jim fumbled the bottle before he managed to get it under control. He did as Bones instructed, but when it came time to do his back he was stymied. "Um, Bones, a little help?"
Bones rolled his eyes but walked up behind Jim. He took the oil from Jim, poured a little onto his hands, rubbed them together, and then -- oh god -- started smoothing his hands in long strokes down Jim's back. Jim watched in the mirror as Bones worked, a frown of concentration on his face. Fuck, being the focus of that intense scrutiny was incredibly exciting and incredibly unnerving all at once. Jim shivered slightly and hoped Bones hadn't noticed. He didn't think so -- Bones was now staring at Jim's back, apparently to see if he'd missed any spots, and he must've, because he poured a little more oil on his hands and gave Jim a last rubdown before stepping back and nodding in satisfaction, wiping his hands on the towel.
"Now don't lean on or rub up against anything."
"Uh, how am I supposed to drive?"
Bones smirked. "I'm driving. You can sit in the passenger side and lean forward so you don't get oil all over the seat. I guess you'll just have to get the seatbelt a little greasy, because you are wearing your goddamn seatbelt."
Jim sighed. Trust Bones to be stickler about safety laws when they were on their way to infiltrate a slavery ring. He sulked as they walked to the underground garage in their apartment building.
As he got into the car, he perked up a bit. They had a sweet little ride, a jet-black Audi S5, nice but not ostentatious. They'd picked it from the impound lot -- it used to belong to some corporate embezzler. Well, Bones had picked it. Jim had argued for the yellow Corvette that had been seized in a drug bust, but Bones vetoed it as "too flashy." Not that he'd ever admit it, but Bones had been right.
Bones drove like he did everything else, competently and with an economy of motion. Jim settled in -- without leaning back -- to enjoy the ride while he watched the city lights slip by outside the windows.
"...and don't speak unless you're spoken to." Jim tuned back in just in time to hear the end of Bones' lecture about how he was supposed to behave. The same lecture Bones had given him at least twenty times before.
"And keep my eyes lowered, I know, I know, Bones. Such a shame to deprive the other patrons of the sight of my beautiful baby blues, though."
Bones' jaw clenched. "This is serious, Jim. We get caught, we'll be killed. You've got to tone down your cockiness."
"Aw, Bones, I thought the whole point was cock...iness." Ha, rimshot!
Bones' jaw tightened even more. "That just illustrates my point, you infant. Maybe we're not ready for this. We can come back another night."
Shit. Bones really would pull the plug if he thought Jim wasn't in the right place mentally to get the job done. He blew out a breath and focused.
"I'm ready. I'll be good. Anything I mess up, you give me a correction and act like you're still training me, and I'll be properly contrite and call you 'sir.' Other than that, I'm going to stay right by your side, keep my mouth shut and my eyes down. This first visit, we're not going to try anything fancy. Just see and be seen, have a few drinks, then head home. Let's do this, Bones."
Bones' jaw relaxed and he nodded in approval at Jim's words, and Jim really didn't want to analyze the warm feeling that swept through him as a result. Luckily he didn't have to, because just then they pulled up in front of the club. A valet opened the passenger door for Jim as Bones got out of the driver's side and gave the key and a folded bill to another valet. Then Bones' arm was on Jim's elbow and he was leading Jim straight past the line at the door and up to a seriously buffed bouncer.
Jim deliberately kept his eyes on the bouncer's shoes as Bones spoke. "I'm on the list. Name's Leo Dubois." He pronounced it "do boys" and Jim had to bite his lip, hard, to keep from snickering. Shit, this was going to be tougher than he'd thought.
Meanwhile, the bouncer checked his list. "Leo Dubois, plus one. Yeah, go on in." Oh, great, now Jim was reduced to a "plus one"? He saw Bones slip a bill into the bouncer's hand, and at this rate they'd blow their discretionary budget in one evening.
Jim had expected something like the clubs he usually frequented, except maybe with some dungeon-esque decor. He'd kind of hoped for cage dancers. Definitely he expected brightly pulsing lights, deafening music, and tight-pressed crowds of bodies. This... wasn't that, at all. Instead, it was dimly lit, with dark plush carpeting underfoot. There was a polished mahogany bar at the far side of the room, and between it and them there were a scattering of expensive-looking tables, chairs, and couches. No fetish props on the walls, but behind the bar there was a collection of framed, exquisitely tasteful black-and-white photographs. Erotic photographs. Really explicit, really kinky, really freakin' hot photographs. Jim realized he was staring. He hastily turned his gaze back to the floor.
Bones led him by the elbow over to sofa in one corner. Bones sat and Jim sank to his knees at Bones' feet, pretty gracefully, if he did say so himself, given the tight leather pants. And hey, at least he'd remembered to kneel instead of flopping on the couch next to Bones. A cocktail waitress in a slinky black gown came by and took Bones' order -- scotch on the rocks -- and then retreated. Bones relaxed into the sofa, spread his arms wide across the back of the cushions, and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. The position was unquestionably one of casual dominance. He actually did look like he owned the place. Damn it, yet again Bones had been right. Jim, for all his experience club-hopping, had never been to a place like this and would not only have been out of his element, it would have been obvious that he was out of his element.
Bones didn't say anything, didn't make any attempt to initiate contact with anyone, just sipped his scotch and looked for all the world like a king surveying his domain. Jim had to forcibly remind himself that he was here to observe the club, not Bones. He turned his head subtly, trying to get a feel for the place.
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, he could see that the room they were in was only part of the club. There were hallways and doorways leading off in a couple different directions, and he could hear the thump of a bass beat from down a corridor. He could hear other sounds, too -- the faint but unmistakable crack of a whip, plus muffled moans and other assorted sex noises, from another direction. He found himself straining to hear more.
Bones caught his reaction but misinterpreted the cause. He leaned forward a bit and murmured into Jim's ear, "Yeah. There's a lot more explicit shit going on in other areas. Well, and some non-explicit shit, dancing and whatever. But for tonight we're just going to hang out here. We're going to bring these fuckers down, and that means doing this the right way. Don't want to overplay our hand."
Jim barely caught Bones' words because he was mesmerized by the feel of Bones' warm breath against his ear, the subtle scent of his aftershave, and the sheer nearness of him. Not to mention their relative positions, with Jim on his knees, and damn, was it getting hotter in here? He managed to pull it together and nod in response to Bones' words, and Bones patted him on the cheek and leaned back with a smug smile. Bastard was enjoying this way too much.
He was trying -- unsuccessfully -- to will his erection away when he heard a voice above him.
"Hey there, Leo, glad to see you took me up on my invite. Your boy's looking good tonight, and I can see he's raring to go."
Damn it, of course someone would not only notice his raging hard-on, but actually point it out to Bones. He couldn't see the speaker, but the voice was familiar, and it had to be Marcus, the one who'd gotten their names on the exclusive list.
Bones didn't even glance his way, thank god. He waved a dismissive hand in Jim's direction. "Oh yeah, Jimmy likes to be on display. Quite the little exhibitionist, aren't you, darlin'?"
The endearment, delivered in that delicious southern drawl, was just fucking unfair. Though he could pick up just a hint of disapproval in his tone, which was totally uncalled-for since he'd only had sex in their shared office once. Okay, okay, three -- four times, but Bones had only caught him once.
There was an expectant silence and oh shit, Bones had asked him a question, hadn't he? "Yes, sir," he mumbled, and luckily that seemed to satisfy his listeners. They continued their conversation and Jim listened with half of his attention. Damn, his knees hurt. There was a trickle of sweat running down between his butt cheeks -- these leather pants didn't breathe at all. But he figured it would be a faux pas to reach down and scratch his ass. He squirmed a little bit, though. It didn't help.
By this time, Marcus had settled on the sofa next to Bones. "He's a fidgety one, isn't he? What is he, bucking for punishment?"
"Nah, he's just not real well-trained, and he's more twitchy than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. We're working on it."
Jim flushed but held his tongue. Bones made him sound like some incompetent amateur. Which, granted, maybe he was, but it still stung.
Marcus chuckled. "Oh, he blushes very prettily. Don't suppose you'd mind if I borrowed him for a bit?"
Bones barely moved, but in his peripheral vision, Jim could see that suddenly his body language absolutely radiated menace. "Sorry, Marcus, I don't share."
"Hey, no problem, was just asking," Marcus said hastily.
Bones relaxed. "No harm in asking," he agreed.
Jim wasn't sure why he felt so... what was the word? Relieved wasn't quite it... safe, maybe. Protected. It was an odd feeling. After all, he could take care of himself, especially against one unarmed opponent who probably had no hand-to-hand training. But somehow it was nice to know that Bones had his back anyway. Before he got partnered up with Bones, he'd never in his life had someone that, without question, he knew he could count on.
Marcus introduced Bones to a few more people, and Jim surreptitiously peeked upward through his lashes so he could memorize faces to go with voices. Could prove useful later. He was getting increasingly uncomfortable, though -- his knees were killing him and he absolutely had to scratch his ass. Just when he thought he was going to have to abandon his role and just go for it, Bones stretched and made their goodbyes. Thank god.
He made it until they got back into the car and then started squirming furiously against the seat, trying to assuage the itching. Bones looked over at him in amusement. "Ants in your pants?"
"Shit, man, I'm all sweaty. It's making me itchy as hell. How did you stay so still?"
"Baby powder, Jim. Baby powder." Bones grinned, and damn, that was hot. He'd hardly ever seen Bones so relaxed and loose. Given that they were on an undercover assignment that was unusual.
"You couldn't have told me this before we left?"
"Where would be the fun in that?" Bones asked reasonably, and Jim had to grant him that. He'd have done the same in Bones' position.
He tacitly conceded the point by changing the subject. "So, any impressions? Anyone you think we ought to look into more closely?"
"Hard to say at this point. Probably to be on the safe side, I'll send the names of everyone I met back to Pike and he can have someone run them through the system, just to see if anything weird pops up."
"When do you think we ought to go back?" Jim resolutely ignored the flicker of excitement in his stomach that thought brought -- excitement that had nothing to do with the assignment.
"I think we should give it a few days at least. We don't want to seem too eager."
Jim nodded and the rest of the ride home was spent in silence.
When he woke up the next morning, Jim was oddly out-of-sorts. Normally he woke up full of energy, ready to tackle the day with an obnoxious grin on his face that was guaranteed to annoy Bones. Today, though, he didn't feel much like grinning. In fact, he kind of wanted to hide. In the bright light of day, the club, the experience of the evening before felt like a surreal dream -- a really embarrassing dream that he'd rather no one know about, only Bones had been there. Bones was going to give him so much shit about this.
When he stomped into the kitchen, though, Bones didn't do anything more than raise an eyebrow before turning back to his coffee and newspaper. Really, who read newspapers anymore?
"Geez, man, you're showing your age. Why don't you join the 21st century, get your news on the internet like everyone else?"
This time the raised eyebrow lasted a little longer. "I like the feeling of paper in my hands, Jim. The smell of the ink. I prefer something physical to hold onto."
Even though the words were spoken without a trace of innuendo, Jim felt a flush creeping across his face. He turned away, busied himself making toast and pouring a cup of coffee. Fuck this. He was getting out of here.
"I'm going to the gym. Then to run some errands. I won't be back until later. Don't know when."
"Okay," Bones said agreeably. Jim stared at him in suspicion. Bones and agreeable didn't generally belong in the same sentence. Normally Bones would be grilling him about where he was going to go, what he was going to do, pressing him for a time he'd be back. Bones was already turning back to his paper, though, so Jim shrugged and took his coffee and toast back to his room to scarf down while he got dressed.
He still felt jangly and itchy when he got to the gym and changed into workout clothes. Pounding out a few miles on the treadmill helped, as did a strength circuit. Even better was the invitation from a taut gym bunny to follow her home for some "personal training." After fucking her vigorously, making her come three times, and then using her shower before bidding her a very satisfied farewell, he felt pretty much back to his usual self.
He figured he'd better do at least some work-related relaxing, so he went to the Castro and bummed around for a while, drinking coffee and chatting up the barista, browsing a bookstore, and just walking around, enjoying the looks of admiration and lust he was gathering. He mostly went for women -- in fact, he hadn't been with a man since college, and that had been mostly drunken fumbling. He hadn't really been attracted to another man since then, until he'd met Bones. But hey, an ego boost was an ego boost, and if guys wanted to ogle his hot bod, he had no problem with it. He didn't see anyone he'd met during their assignment, but becoming a familiar face here was important.
It was getting dark before he got back to the apartment. He figured Bones would be ranting and swearing, ready to give him the third degree about where he'd been and what had taken so goddamn long, but as it turned out Bones wasn't even there. There was a note on the kitchen table saying that he'd gone out to have drinks with Marcus and some of his friends.
Well, shit. That wasn't fair. Why'd Bones get to go out and have fun while he was left alone at the apartment? He went into the living room and flopped on the couch, turning on the TV and watching the news. He got himself an apple and a bowl of cereal for dinner. Then he watched some game shows and some stupid sitcoms. Then an equally stupid made-for-TV movie. Cheap-ass Bureau wouldn't shell out for cable. He was getting restless; just on the point of calling Bones' cell phone to find out what the hell was taking so long, when he heard the rattle of the key in the door.
He leaned back into the couch, playing it cool. When Bones wandered into the living room, Jim was pretending to be absorbed in the movie. He glanced up casually. "Have a good time?"
"I wasn't there to have fun, Jim," Bones said.
"Well, did you learn anything worthwhile?"
"Learned the names of some of the big players on the scene, met a couple of them. Listened to gossip about who's fucking who, fielded questions about my pretty boy-toy -- " Jim grinned, and Bones rolled his eyes, "crap like that. How about you?"
"Eh, worked out, and then mostly hung around the Castro. Just establishing myself as a hot young thing with no need to earn a living." He deliberately left out the part about screwing the woman from the gym. Bones gave him a knowing look that said he knew perfectly well about the omission, and Jim felt a tightening of anger in his gut. Why shouldn't he have a little fun? It wasn't like he was getting any anywhere else. He was ready to defend himself, but Bones didn't say another word about it. He just nodded.
"Oh, that looks like a good movie," Bones deadpanned. Jim looked toward the screen, where two adorable blond children were petting a pony that they'd apparently just rescued from a glue factory or some shit.
Jim waved this away dismissively. "Network TV, man. There's nothing on."
Bones smirked. "Uh-huh. Never knew you had a thing for ponies, Jim." Before Jim could retort, Bones was continuing. "I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning."
Jim sulked for a few minutes in front of the TV, where the pony was now frolicking in a grassy field while the angelic children looked on joyfully. Then he snorted, turned off the TV, and went to bed.
They settled into a routine. They went to Narada a few times a week. They were getting to be known as regulars, starting to know the other regulars in turn. The staff brought Bones his scotch on the rocks without him having to order it. They even had a drink once in a while with Nero, when he was doing his circulating-and-schmoozing thing. Jim knew instantly that Nero was bad news. No -- more than bad news, he was downright evil. It set his teeth on edge to be anywhere near the man, but for the sake of the job he had to keep a poker face and not spit in his face. It must've been harder for Bones, though, since Bones had to actually make small talk with the guy, while he only had to kneel at Bones' feet and keep his eyes down. Still, it made him twitchy.
Then, of course, there was the fact that he was suddenly living with the man he'd been lusting after for months, which made him twitchy in a whole different way. And Bones was surprisingly pleasant to live with. He'd assumed that Bones would be a grumpy roommate, constantly complaining and nagging Jim about petty shit. And, okay, he was a little grumpy, but for the most part they got along really well. They took turns with dishes and cleaning and stuff, and if Jim was slacking off on his share, Bones would just slap him on the back of the head and say, "It's your turn to do the dishes, you lazy asshole," and Jim would do them. Jim would've liked a chance to return the favor, but sadly, Bones always kept up on his share of the chores.
Being around Bones all the time, going with him to a sex club practically every other day and not being able to touch him was killing him. Plus they were trading off where they slept every night so they had to spend equal time on the uncomfortable couch. So every night when Jim wrapped himself up in the sheets, regardless of whether he was on the couch or in the bed, he could smell Bones -- smell the spicy, musky scent of him from when he'd slept there the night before. It was driving him crazy with lust. The man was so fucking sexy that it was completely unfair. And he had no idea that he was so attractive, which somehow made him even more attractive. Jim didn't quite know how that worked, but it was true.
He was going to get blue balls or something because he hadn't had this little sex since that dry spell after Angela Parker dumped him when he was fifteen. He couldn't pick up a casual fuck because it could blow their cover. He shouldn't have gone home with that gym bunny, really. And plus -- well, he didn't want to pick up a random stranger. So his trusty right hand was getting a workout every morning in the shower and Jim was getting more and more frustrated as time passed.
He was getting frustrated in more ways than one.
"It's been a month, Bones. A whole fucking month. We've got to make our move," Jim said. It wasn't the first time they'd had this argument, or even the fifth.
As always at this point in the discussion, Bones sighed. "We're getting close, Jim, but not close enough. We have to let Nero come to us. We try to go to him, push the issue, he'll get spooked. Then the whole operation will fold up and reappear somewhere else we don't know about, and we'll have lost our chance."
"Bones, people are in sexual slavery while we dick around. Don't you give a shit about them?" As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew he'd gone too far. He knew Bones cared, way more than he should. The man couldn't keep professional distance to save his life.
He expected an explosion, but he didn't get it. Instead, Bones' mouth tightened, he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out of the room.
The rest of the afternoon was uncomfortable, to say the least. The fight was still lingering in Jim's mind and even though he knew he'd been unfair to Bones, he still thought it was time to quit waiting around. He was beyond ready to make a move, to sneak into the back room of the club and plant surveillance -- a hidden camera or at least a bug -- and to question other people at the club about whether they'd heard rumors of the slave trading.
As they got ready to go out that evening, Bones still wasn't talking to him except in clipped sentences of as few words as possible. Jim decided that enough was enough. Fuck this cautious shit. He was going to do some looking around, and what Bones didn't know about -- well, until after it was done -- wouldn't hurt him.
Of course, it might well hurt Jim, if he theoretically got caught trying to open a locked door in a back hallway where he had no business being. Theoretically.
Unfortunately, the two over muscled thugs who manhandled him into a chair in Nero's large, luxurious office weren't theoretical. They were also entirely unimpressed with Jim's explanations of having gotten lost looking for the men's room.
Within about two minutes, Nero himself was entering the room, the tattoos on his shaved head somehow looking extra ominous tonight. He sat down behind his large desk, in a plush leather armchair, and stared thoughtfully at Jim.
"Hey, look, I'm really sorry about this, but it's all just a misunder-”
"Shut your mouth."
Jim did. Wow, that was a really intimidating tone of voice. He didn't even shout, but somehow Nero's tone said "don't fuck with me" loud and clear all the same. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Jim wasn't quite sure what Nero expected him to do. Then he heard an unmistakable voice in the hallway outside of the office.
"Get your goddamn hands off me. I'm comin'. What the hell is this about, anyway?"
A pair of bruisers who could have been the twins of the ones flanking Jim -- wait, would that make them quadruplets? -- escorted Bones into the office. Bones saw Jim and narrowed his eyes. Oh man, he was pissed. Jim wasn't sure whether to be more scared of him or Nero.
Nero spoke to Bones, ignoring Jim completely. "I found your boy trying to get into a locked back office."
Bones didn't hesitate for even a moment before heaving a long-suffering sigh that sounded surprisingly authentic. "Sorry about that, Mr. Nero. The boy's a sneak. Always poking around where he doesn't belong. He'll steal anything that's not nailed down too. It's how I met him, actually. He came in for a checkup and I left the exam room for a moment, and when I came back I caught him trying to steal my script pad. Probably wanted to get himself a rave's worth of uppers. I told him I could call the cops on him, or he could make it up to me. He chose the latter option."
Wow, Bones was good. Jim practically believed it himself. Nero didn't relax, exactly, but some of the threat in his posture eased.
"How... unfortunate," Nero said. "Of course, he'll have to be punished for this transgression."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure he can't sit comfortably for a week," Bones said easily.
"Well, now, Dr. Dubois, since I was the target of this particular misbehavior, don't you think I should be the one to punish him?"
Jim tensed. Oh, shit, no. He really, really didn't want to be turned over to Nero for whatever his idea of punishment was.
Bones didn't react overtly, but as before, his voice was suddenly hard. "Well, now, that's an interesting idea, but I don't share. Trust me, though, I will make him sorrier than he's ever been in his life." Jim winced. He had no doubt it was true.
Nero wasn't willing to give so easily, though. "I can respect your unwillingness to share. He's certainly a pretty toy. I must insist, though, that I at least witness his punishment. You can do it right here, right now." Nero's tone brooked absolutely no disagreement, and somehow the air now seemed to be crackling with danger.
Jim's eyes widened, but he didn't dare look over at Bones. There was a moment of silence as Bones evidently tried to figure out a way to say no without making it look too suspicious. Apparently nothing occurred.
"Yeah, all right, that's fair."
Oh, holy shit, what was about to happen? He didn't have to wait long to find out. Bones walked over to him and glared at the thugs guarding him until they backed off. Then he touched Jim's shoulder, surprisingly gently. "Up you go," he said. Jim stood. "Now take down your pants and lean over the chair. Grab the arms of it."
Jim gaped. Bones didn't actually expect him to --
Apparently Bones did. "Get. Your. Pants. Down. Now." His eyes were flat, giving nothing away to the casual observer, but there was just a tiny flicker behind them that Jim could read, a warning that they had to play this out. Jim's hands went to the button of his leather pants, and then paused.
Abruptly Bones turned him around and pushed him down until he was grabbing the arms of the chair to prevent himself from face-planting into it. Then his pants were being opened and tugged down around his thighs. He could feel himself flushing all over, head to toe, and of course his bare ass had to have been bright pink as well. Oh fuck, this could not be happening.
"You just earned yourself an extra smack for dawdling," Bones said. Jim heard Nero chuckle in approval. "It was going to be ten swats but now it'll be eleven. I want you to count them. Do you understand me, Jimmy?"
"Yes, sir," Jim said. He felt almost lightheaded, like this was a dream, or like he was watching it happen to someone else.
The first impact of Bones' palm against his ass took him by surprise. It shouldn't have, but it did. He gasped into the sudden silence following the resounding smack that was still stinging his ass cheeks.
"Count, Jimmy." Bones' voice was as unyielding as Jim had ever heard it.
"One." He was surprised he could even say the word; he was so dumbfounded by the situation he found himself in.
He anticipated the second blow and tensed up just before it landed. Pain exploded across his backside. "Two," he gritted.
"Now, Jimmy, relax. You know it just hurts more if you tense up." Bones' large, warm hand was actually stroking his ass now, soothing the sting. Jim inhaled a shaky breath and relaxed his muscles with an effort.
"Good boy. Now here we go."
The third blow hurt, but not as badly now that he wasn't fighting it. "Three."
By the fourth blow, the tingling in his ass had reached a constant background hum of sensation that was almost... pleasurable. By the fifth, his cock had perked up and decided that yes, indeed, that was pleasure he was feeling. The sixth, seventh, and eighth blows had his arms trembling and his voice unsteady as he tried to cope with the contradictory signals his body was giving him. Nine had him crying out in a broken voice, and even he couldn't tell if it was a noise of protest or a plea for more. Ten had his cock pressed up against his belly, hard and leaking, and he was closer to exploding without a single touch than he'd ever been. Eleven... eleven had tears running down his cheeks, his voice no more than a whisper as Bones' hand impacted with the tender, abused skin of his ass one last time.
He almost didn't realize it was over until Bones' hands were at his sides, helping him to stand up straight. Bones turned him around, pulled him against a warm solid chest and tugged his pants back up, fastening them with slight difficulty over Jim's throbbing erection. Oh, fuck, he'd never been so humiliated in his entire life. Not only had Bones seen that, seen how hard he got from being spanked, and then actually felt it as he'd re-buttoned Jim's pants, but Nero and his asshole quadruplets had seen the whole thing too.
He didn't know why he'd gotten so hard. He certainly hadn't been expecting to react that way. He felt overwhelmed, and he didn't even know if it was in a good way or a bad way.
Bones seemed to get that he was pretty much undone, because he wrapped long, strong arms around Jim. With one hand, he rubbed circles into his back, and the other came up to cradle the back of his head, gently pressing it down so his face rested in the crook of Bones' neck.
"Shh. Shh, it's all right now, darlin'. You did good. I'm proud of you, Jimmy. Now tell Mr. Nero here that you're sorry you were pokin' around and we'll go home. All right?"
Jim desperately tried to pull himself together. He sniffled and nodded against Bones' neck. "Good boy," said Bones softly.
That was when Jim noticed something. He wasn't the only one hard enough to pound nails. For just a moment, he pressed forward, feeling the solid length of Bones' cock against his body, then he flushed in shame. Fuck, he was here to do a job, not rut against his partner. He hastily stepped back, wiped the back of his wrist across his eyes, and turned to face Nero, focusing on the man's shoes as he was expected to do.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Nero. It won't happen again," he said.
Nero's voice was indulgent now and just a bit rough with what must have been arousal. "I'm sure it won't, though your master is much more lenient than I would have been. You should consider yourself lucky."
Jim shivered, and Bones' arm came up to wrap around his shoulders. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I do, sir." Shit, he was babbling now.
"I appreciate your understanding, Mr. Nero," Bones interjected smoothly. "He's a handful, this one."
"I can see that." Nero paused for a moment. "Dr. Dubois, I may have a business proposition for you. Why don't you come back tomorrow evening and we can meet to discuss it?"
Jim could practically hear the raised eyebrow in Bones' voice. "A business proposition, huh? All right, sure, we'll talk tomorrow. For tonight, though, I've got to take Jimmy home and finish up what we started here."
"Of course. I'll speak with you tomorrow." Nero's tone was knowing, and Jim's flesh crawled.
They didn't speak on the car ride home, but Bones' fingers were white-knuckled against the steering wheel and his eyes kept cutting over to Jim. Jim stared straight ahead.
When they got back to the apartment, Jim immediately headed for his bedroom. Bones caught his arm before he could take more than two steps. "Wait, Jim, we've got to talk about this."
Jim rounded on him, voice low and furious. "No, we don't. We don't ever have to talk about this. As far as I'm concerned, it never happened. Do you understand?"
Bones shook his head, his eyes wide and concerned. "Jim, I'm sorry. I -”
"There's nothing to be sorry about, because nothing fucking happened," he snarled. He jerked his arm free, then turned away from Bones' guilty, stricken expression, stalked into the bedroom, and slammed the door. He leaned back against it and tried to get his breathing under control.
After a few moments, there was a murmur of "God damn it," and then he heard Bones walking into the other room, closing the door gently.
On to Part 2