Spock and Bones stood by the control console awaiting the arrival of the captain and the remainder of the last Away Team from the surface.  Bones knew immediately something was wrong when Jim arrived bent double, hands on his knees.  He moved to Jim’s side, kneeling, medical tricorder in hand, scanning.

“Don’t touch me,” Jim hissed.  “Quarantine the area.  Others are safe.”

Bones glanced up at the other two members of the team, a pair of junior lieutenants, noting they appeared fine.  He stood and gave them each a cursory scan, unsurprised when they checked out as completely healthy.  He ordered them to report to sickbay as a precaution.  Spock dismissed the transporter operators, then sealed the exterior door after they and the two lieutenants exited the transporter room.

“Jim?” Bones said softly.  The tricorder was reporting increased levels of hormones in addition to increased heart and respiration rates.

Jim looked up.  His blue eyes were glassy, face pale and sweat-sheened.  “They dosed me with something as we were being transported away.”

Bones heard the buzz of a quarantine field activate, trapping the two of them in the transporter area.  “Can you stand, Jim?”

Jim scoffed.  “Hell, no.”  It was the answer Bones had expected.  Jim’s pulse was increasing even more, as was his respiration.  His jaw was clenched.  If Bones didn’t know better, he would think Jim was in pain.

But he wasn’t – Bones did know better.  Whatever Jim had been dosed with was a powerful aphrodisiac.  The hows and whys of it he would leave to Spock; his job was to treat Jim.  He glanced at the tricorder again – then did a double take.  He was frankly amazed Jim hadn’t jumped him yet.  He met Jim’s eyes, unsurprised to find them dark with arousal, the pupils dilated wide.

“Can you walk to quarters?” Bones asked, voice neutral.  He continued to scan, collecting as much information as he could for Spock so they wouldn’t need to be interrupted later.

Jim sucked air through his nostrils, narrowing them, as he bent over even further.  “Can’t guarantee the shape I’ll be in.”

Bones nodded, though Jim couldn’t see him.  Turning to Spock, he said, “Lower the field.”  Spock lifted one eyebrow.  “It’s not contagious.”  Spock lifted both eyebrows.  Damned hob-goblin.  “It’s an aphrodisiac.”

“Fascinating,” Spock murmured, but lowered the field.

Jim dropped to one knee, breath hissing from between his clenched teeth as he clearly bit back a moan or a grimace – or both.  Bones fought back his natural urge to drop down beside Jim and assist him because, for the moment, it would serve no purpose.

He carried the tricorder to Spock.  “This should have everything you need.”  Spock turned from the tricorder to him, but Bones ignored the inquisitorial look.  “Jim was the only one dosed.  I think we should forbid him from going on away missions.”

“I do not think the attempt to forbid the captain anything to be a wise move, Doctor,” Spock said, then added almost as an afterthought, “At least as regards the ship and its crew.”

Bones made a noise that could have meant anything.  Spock was right, but Bones would never tell him that.  Despite returning from away mission after away mission with some form of injury or after being abused or in need of rescuing, Jim Kirk still seemed to lead a charmed life.  So far.  Bones wondered how much longer it would last and when the psychological effects would kick in.

He gritted his teeth and said, “I’m going to take him to his quarters.”

Spock turned and faced Bones fully, crossing his arms.  “Not sickbay?”

A groan from the transporter pad drew the attention of both officers.  Jim was now on his hands and knees, head dropped between his arms, his breathing an audible rasp even at the distance separating them.

“He needs more than what sickbay can provide,” Bones murmured, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

“He needs an antidote,” Spock said.

“Dammit, man!” Bones spat.  Thrusting a pointed finger at Jim, he growled, “He’s in pain.  Are you going to let me treat him or argue?”

Spock’s damnable eyebrow rose again.  “I merely disagree with your choice of . . . treatment.”

“When you get a medical degree, then I’ll listen to your opinion,” Bones answered.  “You figure out what he was given and I’ll treat my patient.”  Four stomping strides brought him to Jim’s side.  “Can you walk?” he demanded.

Jim didn’t even look up this time.  “No.”

Bones was damned tired of being beamed anywhere, let alone all over the ship, because of Jim, but it was the only way to get Jim to quarters now.  He moved to a secondary pad.

Swallowing a sarcastic comment about Spock’s parentage and deviant sexual practices, Bones said, “Two to beam to the captain’s quarters.”  Spock’s hands hovered over the panel, but he didn’t energize.  Bones glared, pulling out the one weapon he could use in the case of medical emergency.  “Do I need to make it an order?”

Jim groaned again, making Bones shift his weight as his cock responded to the blatant need in that sound.

“Energizing,” Spock murmured, disapproval dripping from the single word.

The world dissolved into blue-white energy for a moment, then reformed in Jim’s quarters.  Bones had barely reoriented himself before he was slammed against the wall.

His head hit with a dull thump, but he had no opportunity to complain because Jim’s mouth latched onto his, tongue demanding entrance.  Bones parted his lips and sucked Jim’s tongue inside.  Jim moaned, pressing him full-body against the wall.  His hands were tearing ineffectually at Bones’ uniform, since he refused to break the kiss and actually accomplish removing the uniform.  Bones could feel Jim’s cock, hard and insistent, against his hip.

Lightheaded from arousal and lack of air, Bones tangled one hand in Jim’s short hair and pulled, breaking the kiss.  Jim snarled, leaning upward to suck at the skin under Bones’ ear.  Bones hissed, “What do you need?”

Jim didn’t answer.  Instead, he shoved his hands under Bones’ tunic and pushed it up.  Cursing, Bones released Jim’s hair and pulled his tunic off.  Before he could reach for Jim’s tunic, Jim pushed Bones to the wall again, pinning him by his shoulders and biting his way from Bones’ neck to his fly.

“Fuck,” Bones muttered.  Jim looked up through his lashes from his position on his knees.  “Fuck,” Bones repeated, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

He knew he had to take control of this situation so Jim didn’t end up whoring himself to half the ship.  Bones scoffed to himself.  He’d sacrifice himself to Jim for the welfare of the ship if he had to.  To do that, though, he couldn’t let Jim give him a blowjob.  Jim was too good and he’d never lasted long, even before this . . . whatever.  Jim needed more than that from him.

Bones felt Jim’s hands unfastening his pants and shoved him away.  Rather than be hurt, arousal flared more brightly in Jim’s eyes.

“Take your clothes off,” Bones ordered, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Jim smirked, pulling his gold command tunic off over his head.  Bones briefly allowed the doctor portion of himself to note there were no visible physical injuries on Jim’s torso as a result of the just-concluded away mission, only the barely-healed scars from their recent encounter with the Artraxians.  Then Bones dismissed the medical side, allowing himself to admire the lean and lithe body of his lover.  Jim bent, facing away from Bones, to unfasten his boots.  Bones’ hands twitched, aching to touch Jim.  Boots undone, Jim then made quick work of his pants and underwear.

Free to touch, Bones lunged forward and reeled Jim in by one wrist.  They crashed together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest.  Bones tasted blood where one of them had cut their lip on their teeth.  He quickly wondered if whatever Jim had been dosed with was contagious, despite what he’d told Spock, because he was beginning to feel as out of control as Jim had been.

Jim began fumbling again at the fastenings of Bones’ pants, brushing against his cock with each attempt.  If he kept it up, it would be all over for a while because Bones knew neither his jaw nor his hand would hold up to what Jim needed from him right then.

Groaning, Bones broke the kiss and turned them both so Jim was pushed face-first against the wall, held there by a loose grip on one wrist and Bones’ other forearm across his shoulder blades.  Bones took two steps forward until his cock was nestled against Jim’s naked ass.  Jim whimpered and tried to push back, moaning when he discovered he was trapped.

“Do you wanna be fucked?” Bones growled in Jim’s ear.  The sweat that had sheened Jim’s skin earlier had now beaded and was now running in rivulets down his face, dampening the ends of his hair and accentuating the stubble on his jaw.  Bones licked at the trail of sweat just in front of his ear, tracing it with the tip of his tongue before repeating the gesture with the broad flat of his tongue.

Jim shuddered.

Bones shifted his grip on Jim’s wrist, drawing his arm out and up until it was next to his head.  He did the same for Jim’s other arm, pinning them both at eye level on either side of Jim’s head.  Adjusting his feet slightly so he was boxing in Jim’s legs, Bones thrust once.

Jim trembled.

“Fuck me,” Jim hissed, closing his eyes.

Bones trailed his lips down Jim’s neck, biting at his skin, then licking to soothe the welt.  Jim tilted his head away, allowing Bones free access, whimpering.  Bones asked again, each precisely pronounced word punctuated with a bite, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!” Jim cried, trying to push back with his hips, but not able to as Bones pinned him more forcefully to the wall.  Gasping slightly, Jim sobbed, “Dammit, Bones, please.”  He opened his eyes, seeking Bones’.

Jim’s eyes were bloodshot and dazed, lost to whatever chemical he’d been dosed with, Bones noted from a medical perspective.  From a personal perspective, Jim was going to come soon and they had no lube handy.  He could use spit, but it wasn’t sanitary and would cause Jim injury and pain.  He might not feel it now, given the effect of that chemical, but Bones would have to find a way to get him to sickbay without the nurses finding out.  Again.  It took a month for them to live it down last time.

Scratching disrupted Bones’ thoughts as Jim tried to clench his hands into fists, fingernails dragging on the wall.  Bones threaded his fingers between Jim’s, flattening his palms against the wall.  He could smell Jim now, sweat and arousal teasing that primal part of his own brain, making him want to mark Jim, claim him, fuck him senseless.  He didn’t think Jim would object.

“Need lube,” Bones said, trailing his lips over Jim’s shoulders.

Jim shivered and squirmed beneath him.  “Now!”

“No.  I don’t wanna fix you later.”

Jim twisted again.  It reminded Bones of trying to hold a wet puppy as a child:  the puppy had been almost as big as he was and had only wanted to lick him.  Bones bit his lip and moaned at the image that conjured of Jim licking him.

Bones released Jim and dove for Jim’s bedside cabinet.  He got the cabinet open and his fingers on the lube just as Jim tackled him to the bed.  Fist around the lube, Bones tumbled Jim onto his back, legs and arms twisted together.

After cursing, grunts and a misplaced elbow, Bones finally managed to straddle Jim atop the bed, pinning him there with the weight of his body.  Jim’s chest heaved, both in the aftermath of the impromptu wrestling match, but also as a result of the chemical.

“Bones, please,” he rasped.  “It hurts.”

He studied Jim, pushing down his own arousal with effort.  Jim’s pupils were dilated far beyond normal, worrying him.  He sat up, unsurprised when Jim jackknifed upward, following him, and latched onto whatever skin his mouth could reach.

“Undo my pants, but don’t touch my cock,” Bones ordered, voice tight with strain.

Frantic hands were at his belt in a moment.  Every inadvertent brush of Jim’s clever hands against his cotton-clad cock made him shudder.  When the fastenings were undone, Bones rose up from his crouch into a kneeling position, but swatted Jim’s hands away before they could pull his pants down.

“On your knees, hands on the headboard.”  Jim looked up through his lashes again.  Bones knew he should never have told Jim how much that look made him want to treat Jim like some sort of dirty whore.  Jim had blushed, laughed, then done it again – and couldn’t sit comfortably for two days, to Spock’s amusement on the bridge.  “Do it,” Bones ordered, injecting more steel into his voice.

Jim twisted, dragging his legs from underneath Bones and crawling up the bed.  Though the temptation was there, Bones didn’t spank him.  He had other things in mind for that ass.  Jim’s jaw was tight, teeth gritted, as he grabbed the headboard in a white-knuckled grip.  He parted his knees slightly, giving a bit of a sway to his lower back, offering himself to Bones.

Bones admired the view for a moment – really, how could he not – then pushed his pants down.  Popping the cap on the lube, he then generously coated his hand, using it to stroke himself twice.  It was all he could take without accidentally coming.  Knee-walking forward with his pants around his thighs was more difficult than he’d anticipated and he nearly fell across Jim, catching himself at the last minute by bracing his uncoated hand at the small of Jim’s back.

Jim dropped his head, much as he had on the transporter pad, breath hissing.  “Dammit, Bones,” he said.

Bones said nothing in reply, moving closer instead.  Jim was radiating heat, even more than usual, and sweat was beaded on the skin of his back and legs as well.  Something clenched in Bones’ stomach at the thought of running his tongue down Jim’s spine to the cleft of his ass, licking up where some of that sweat had pooled.

He brought his lubricated hand to Jim’s cleft, making Jim shudder violently, which, in turn, made the headboard rattle.  Bones slid his index finger inside, biting his lip when Jim shoved back against him in an effort to fuck himself.  Rotating his wrist, he wiggled that first finger, then slowly added a second.

“Stop teasing me!” Jim shouted.  “Dammit, Bones, just fuck me already.”

“Fine,” Bones growled.  Jim gave a strangled gasp as Bones pulled his fingers free, but that quickly devolved into a whimpering moan.  Bones wiped his hand clean on the blanket before gripping Jim’s hips, briefly admiring the contrast of his tanned hands against Jim’s pale skin.  “I’m not helping you if you can’t sit tomorrow.”

“Don’t care.”

Bones would be more sympathetic to Jim’s impatience if it was strictly the chemical, but it wasn’t.  Jim had a penchant for rough sex that Bones was generally willing to indulge, and it had been that light he’d seen in Jim’s eye in the transporter room.  Try explaining that to a green-blooded, emotionless son of a bitch.

He needed his right hand to align himself, but then drove into Jim with one thrust.  Jim’s moan seemed to vibrate right through him, making him shudder along with Jim.

“Harder, Bones.”  Jim arched back.  Bones shifted his grip from Jim’s hips to his shoulders and lengthened his strokes even as he made them harder.  “Oh, fuck, oh, yes.”  Bones leaned forward, changing the angle again.  Jim shook underneath him like a ship at maximum warp, that too-pretty mouth spewing obscenities in an effort to encourage Bones to speed up.

Instead, Bones threaded his hand in Jim’s hair, holding his head still, and hissed in his ear, “I want you to be quiet.  Much as I know you love hearing yourself talk, shut the fuck up.”  Then he bit Jim’s shoulder.

Jim shook violently again, shoving backwards.  Laving the bite mark with his tongue drew a long moan from Jim.  He continued the bite-lick pattern across the back of Jim’s neck and his upper back until Jim’s trembling was nearly constant.

Straightening just enough for leverage, Bones finally let himself go – to a point.  The banging of the headboard against the wall was distracting, but at least they wouldn’t be interrupted by Jim’s neighbor complaining about the noise.  That had happened only once and she had backed away from the door upon finding herself confronted by the barely-dressed captain as a neighbor.  Jim reassigned the young lieutenant’s quarters the next day with only one sarcastic-for-a-Vulcan comment from Spock.  Those quarters were kept empty now except during emergencies.

Bones reached around and fisted Jim’s cock, unsurprised to find him taut and close to release.  He stroked him hard and fast, using Jim’s pre-come as lubricant.  Jim’s breathing became harsher, more erratic and labored, as he approached orgasm.  Part of Bones worried about the sound, but he was overwhelmed himself, waiting for Jim to come so he could.

“Jim, come on,” he hissed.  He tightened his grip on Jim’s hip so he could change his thrusts, making a slight figure-eight pattern in quick, sharp thrusts.

That maneuver had never failed in the past to do the trick and didn’t fail this time either.

“Bones!” Jim cried, a combination sob and shout, as his hips jerked forward violently.  He came, spilling over Bones’ hand, his own stomach, and the blankets.

Before Jim was done, Bones let himself come.  He had been so close for so long that he’d been on a hair-trigger at the end.  With a guttural moan, he came inside Jim in several short thrusts, then stilled.

They stay frozen like that for a moment before Jim murmured, “Can I let go?  My arms are killing me.”

“Yes.”  Bones pulled out of Jim at the same time he released the headboard, so Bones wasn’t sure which caused Jim to hiss in pain.  “Roll over.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim murmured.  Bones knew he was smirking even before he saw Jim’s face.  Sure enough, Jim twisted around, agilely moving his legs around Bones so he was lying on his back on Bones’ right side.  And smirking.

“How do you feel?” Bones asked gruffly.  He shifted and heard the fabric of his pant legs rub together.  He wasn’t quite sure if he should be horrified or aroused that, in the heat of the moment, he never even took his pants and boots off.

“Like I’ve been fucked hard,” Jim admitted, smiling slyly.  “And liked it.”

“Stupid bastard.”  Bones shook his head, exasperated already.  Tugging the blanket free from one corner, he used it to wipe himself then Jim clean before zipping up.  The blanket was already a lost cause anyway after he’d smeared lube on it and Jim had come on it.

“I meant,” he began, his tone the one reserved for when he wanted to smack Jim – just before pushing him into the wall, much like earlier.  “What about the chemical you had thrown at you?”

Jim’s expression turned inward as he assessed his condition.  The ability to do that was one that he’d developed since taking command of the Enterprise because he’d never given a damn before that.  “The urge driven by that chemical seems to be gone,” he murmured, then stretched languorously, pointing his toes and reaching above his head.  Bones swallowed back a moan of his own.  Jim did not need his ego about his body stroked in any fashion.  Even if what Bones wanted to do was feast on his skin.

“Let me scan you,” Bones said.  He climbed off the bed, ignoring the momentary dizziness when he stood as blood rushed from his extremities to his head.

“By all means.”  Bones, his back to Jim, rolled his eyes.  “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Bones found a medical tricorder in the anteroom attached to the Captain’s quarters.  He couldn’t remember if he had left it there or if it was standard procedure to keep one stocked there.  He made a note to ask Nurse Chapel since she seemed to know everything, or thought she did.

Scanning Jim yielded confirmation that the chemical was indeed gone.  He ran the same scans as he had in the transporter room for accurate comparison, all the while noticing Jim’s increasing yawns.  When his scans were complete, he closed the tricorder and tucked it into its pouch on his belt.

“You need to sleep, Jim,” Bones said.

Jim’s eyes popped open.  “Not tired.”

“Doctor’s orders, Jim.”  His eyes slid shut as he pouted.  “But we need to change that blanket.”

Jim stumbled up, leaning heavily against the bulkhead, as Bones stripped the befouled blanket from the bed.  He dumped it in the linens chute and pulled a clean blanket from the closet.  There were several blankets there, stacked neatly on the top shelf.  Bones hoped the cleaning staff thought the captain was merely eccentric, but he figured they were well aware of the eventual fate of the blankets in the captain’s quarters.

“In bed,” Bones ordered.

Jim grinned, but it was a pale ghost of his usual grin.  “Alone?”

“Yes, alone.  In.”

With a put-upon sigh, Jim climbed into bed.  Bones covered him with the blanket, then pressed a kiss to his head.

“Love you,” Jim mumbled sleepily.

“Love you, too,” Bones answered.  “Come to sickbay when you wake up.”  Jim grunted in acknowledgment, but Bones set the computer to remind him anyway.

After pulling on his tunic – which was miraculously still in one piece – he looked back at Jim.  He looked so usually innocent in sleep that Bones couldn’t help but grin.  He wasn’t sure yet if he’d heal that hickey before or after Spock saw it prominently displayed just above the collar of Jim’s uniform.