Magnolia And Other Pleasures

J. Juls <jjuls @>


Series:  TOS

Rating:  NC-17

Codes:  Mc , K/Mc

Summary:  An alternate version of a certain TOS episode.  You have to guess which!

Note:  Part of the K/Mc Fuh-q Fest

Disclaimer:  All will become one with the Paramount.  You will become one with the Paramount.  You will adapt to service them.  And they own the ST universe too, blahblah.


All alone.  Leonard sank further into the purple quinzolite pillows and reflected  upon his state. Alone ... at last!  No new recruits with stubbed toes in the middle of the night.  No overzealous lieutenants spraining ankles on the rec deck.  No nothing.  Just him and the sun and the beach. His tent was open on the south side, the local star just beginning to warm him.  Then there was only a straw mat  and the pillows atop it, with a washroom and a few neccessities over in the corner.  And silence.

But not total silence, he considered as he reclined there, relaxing more deeply.  His senses, so attenuated by the background noise of the ship -- the thrum of warp engines, the wash of life support, the beep of monitors -- were now becoming more acute.  He heard the surf in the distance, along with the hypnotic drone of insects and musical warbling from a lone, exotic shore bird.  So like Earth ... he hadn't been back for ages, couldn't even remember when the last time had been.

Barely perceptible, another sound came to him on the sea air -- a dissonant windchime, clashing with the harmonious ocean music.  He didn't really like the windchime.  It was a reminder of metal, manufacturing, civilization; all the things he was trying to leave behind him.

The windchime faded away and was gone.  Must have been a shift in the breeze, sending the sound toward him and away.  He sighed, drifting off into thought ... his childhood in Georgia, bursting out his front door on a warm day, not a worry in his head.  He'd climb the magnolia tree out front, in the spring when it was all rosy flowers and no leaves, thinking that no one had ever had such a view as  he could get from up in that tree.  In fact, he could almost smell the flowers now.

Actually ...

His gauzy reverie was broken then, because he *could* smell the flowers.  He looked around, and there it was over in the corner; a large vase on the floor, filled with branches -- magnolia branches, covered in huge, fragrant blooms.  Now, why hadn't he noticed those before?  It must have been all the stress on the ship, numbing his senses to the point where little things didn't count; only life-and-death matters were worthy of his full attention. That must have been it.

You're under a lot of stress, Leonard, he told himself.  No, his mental state was not optimal.  Too many missions, too much danger; injured crewmen, some whom he couldn't help.  After a while that could really wear a man down.

He yawned and stretched.  The sun was rising higher now, the rectangle of bright light beginning to move across his bare legs and belly.  He basked in the heat, but after a while he felt a sweat begin to break out on his forehead.  It was just a tad too hot.

Halfheartedly, he considered moving the pillows over a bit so more of him would be in the shade.  But the sun baked him with its light, baked him until his muscles went limp under its touch.  He felt that he never wanted to move again.  Although his forehead, and now the rest of his body, were becoming damp with perspiration, he felt languid, helpless to do anything.

He was almost expecting the light breeze when it came to cool him, so perfect had everything been here thus far.  It caressed his face and tossed his hair gently.  When his eyes slipped shut, he didn't feel the need to stop them.


Leonard took a deep breath, surfacing easily from his doze.  He rubbed his eyes to look around him.  No, not much time had passed.  The sun was in almost the same place it had been before; more telling, he didn't feel the groggy discomfort of waking from deep sleep.  What he did feel was refreshed, in a way he hadn't in a long time.  Maybe a swim in the ocean would be good ... what was that?

On the small table at his left elbow, there sat a silver cup, piled with ice, a straw peeking out of the top.  And a green leaf.  He'd know it anywhere -- a mint julep.  As he stared, he saw waves of moisture condensing out of the air, adding to the frost on the cup.  Just fresh, then.

Hesitantly, he took it -- very cold to his wondering touch.  So the help must have brought it while he slept, then ... but how did they know that he would like it?  Maybe Jim had mentioned it, though.  More importantly, how did they know when he would wake?  Just a lucky guess?  And there were no footprints in the sand, now that he looked.  But they'd probably beamed it in.  No big deal.

He took an experimental taste.  Ahhh, alcohol heat mixed with icy cold, sweet mixed with harsh.  Just the way Granddad had made them, so long ago. He remembered being about fourteen; Granddad had figured he was old enough. Oh, they had tasted good all right.  Too good.  He'd had more than enough, of course; wound up venting warp plasma half the night, sick as a Targ the next day.  He chuckled.  Didn't everyone have a teenage episode like that to remember?

He drank deeply of the liquid and felt a warmth that didn't come from the sun.  Memories -- this place seemed to leach them out of a person.  Too much time, too much aloneness, just to sit and contemplate, and ... he had a twinge.

A twinge that he had only one way to relieve.

But he was out in the open here.  Anybody could just walk by.  Who was going to, though?  He set the half-empty cup back on the table.  Sure, Jim was staying just around the other side of the cove, but he'd doubtless be busy with water skiing or somesuch ... thinking of Jim made the twinge worse.

What the hell?  He'd just take a few precautions.  Leaning way over, he managed to snag a fluffy, white beach towel, which he spread over his lap. Could always pretend he was going to take a swim.  If anybody walked by, which they wouldn't.

He reached under his loose shorts -- whoo!  Cold hands!  They eventually warmed up.  He reached deep into his mind as well, reached to those fantasies that he barely ever indulged, even in private moments.  But here on this isolated planet, this was the most private moment of all, and he couldn't stop himself.  Captain --  Jim -- you hold yourself away from all of us, hold yourself away from me.  I wish you didn't have to do that.  Suck me, Jim.  Yes, Doctor.

This particular fantasy had lain dormant for months, and its power was incredible.  In only seconds, he was rock-hard and well on the way to climax.  No, it couldn't end so soon.  He had to slow down.  Although it wasn't easy, he opened his eyes and stilled his hand, but he didn't release his grip.  He wanted to keep the glorious hardness and sensitivity for as long as possible before succumbing to his release.  So, luckily, he wasn't doing anything overt when somebody walked around the corner and waved hello.

"Hi, Bones."

"Jim!  :::cough:::  Jim."  He thought frantically.  "I, uh, was just going for a swim in the ocean."  Yeah, that's the ticket.  "Um, you want to join me?"  No problem.  He'd just hold the towel loosely in front of him until he got to the cold water; that would fix him soon enough.  And he still had his shorts on.

"No."  And, like the beetles he had collected in his childhood, Len was fixed to the spot.  Jim's gaze raked him, burned him.  He had never seen anything so intense from his captain.  Not focused on him, at least.  No, he was good ol' sawbones, the casual friend, the mentor, the -- dare he say it -- father figure.  It wasn't meant to be between him and the captain, yet here and now ... the situation seemed to be changing.  Leonard could only sit, motionless, as Jim advanced toward him.  "I know you want me, Bones," Jim's voice came low and breathy, the voice he would use on varous female ambassadors whose favor he wanted  to curry.  Leonard didn't care.  Whatever favor Jim wanted, he would gladly give, if only in exchange for this moment

"I want you, too, Bones.  I want to suck you ... I want to make you come in my mouth.  So I can taste it."  Jim was close enough to touch now; he struck out and cleared away the protecting towel.  He appraised, smiling, pleased. "So, you're ready for me.  I always knew."  Then Jim knelt below Leonard's throne of pillows and pulled down his shorts and ate him.

Leonard's mind was in a whirl, on overload; he remembered calling Jim's name before he loosed himself into his captain's eager, sucking mouth; he remembered the lassitude that swamped him as Jim fetched a blanket from the corner and wrapped it around them both, holding him with arms and legs as he drifted away.

... Oblivion ... subspace radio, malfunction ... oblivion.  Subspace radio, have to fix it, need to get a message ... oblivion.  Then, vividly:  He was on the USS Johnson.  They'd hit a gravitic mine, many casualties.  He was the only person alive in Communications; he was a medic, had been treating an injured officer.  The second blast had come -- probably from their own torpedo bay.  The subspace  radio was damaged.  He had to fix it, to send a distress call to Starfleet.  Trying to remember his engineering classes from sophomore year at the academy, he rigged up some wiring to a hypercircuit. There was a bizarre vibration throughout his whole body -- not really a vibration, just like being pulled in a thousand directions at once, and not any direction that he was capable of sensing.  Yes, now he remembered, that was the subspace circuit.  He had hit it.  Just needed to hook up to the emergency power coupling and then he could send his message.  And in all the destruction, he found himself becoming aroused when the subspace interference engulfed him.  Ignore it, Len; just hook up the circuit, send your call.  Is this the interface?  If he hit the wrong contact, he might short out the radio altogether, and that would be it.  He felt paralyzed with fear.  His heart raced; he couldn't breathe.

It's a dream, Len.  You're sleeping.  He relaxed, started breathing, floated out of the ship and into his soft nest of pillows and blanket.  He woke to bright moonlight.  Something was wrong.

Jim wasn't there.

For a moment he wondered whether he had dreamed Jim, too; but no, Jim had been here.  Here, with him.  And then he had gone and fallen asleep.  Len, you dang fool!  He was disappointed but soon forgave himself.  This place wasn't coordinated with ship's time, after all.  There was a lot of "jet lag" to overcome.  Of course he had fallen asleep in the hot afternoon sun, sated.  His dream faded as he resolved to go and find Jim.


"Just around the cove, to your east," Jim had told him.  "If you need anything."  No, he hadn't needed anything.  This strange planet had provided for all his needs, until now.  So he needed something.  He needed Jim.  What had this afternoon been all about?  Why had Jim left so soon?  Had he gone back to be with Tonia?  No, Len, he wouldn't do that.  The females were all just a means to an end  for Jim -- a treaty with one planet, some dilithium from another.  Jim was handsome.  He *knew* he was handsome.  He held himself apart, from everyone.  Except for me, today.  That was real.  That had to be real.  I'm under his command anyway.  Anything he wants from me, he could get.

Navigating was easy in the light of three small moons as he made his exit from the tent.  Leonard was wearing only shorts, his bare feet warmed by the sand.  But as he rounded the edge of the cove, the sand became cold underfoot.  He peered ahead in the silver light and saw not palm trees but conifers.  The ground became hard as he proceeded, unforgiving.  Needles prickled his toes.  He began to shiver.  He could see his breath in the air, see isolated pockets of frost on the ground.   Behind him and to his left, waves crashed against jagged rocks, leaving a rime of ice behind them.  And then, before him in a small clearing, he saw a quaint log cabin, dim orange firelight flickering through its tiny windows.  What kind of planet was this, anyway?

The cabin undoubtedly belonged to Jim, though.  He'd always liked cold places -- the mountains, Alaska, the glaciers on Boglas III.  Said the snow and ice calmed him in ways that nothing else could.  He'd often gone hiking in the snow, farther than he should have; it had always worried Leonard, though he'd never have admitted it.  Not beyond the bounds of a doctor's concern for his patient, anyway.

Now things were different.  He could acknowledge what he had never revealed to anyone, what he rarely even admitted to himself.  He had a hopeless love for Jim.  Shivering with cold, and not thinking anything of it, he opened Jim's door and barged in.

And immediately wished that he had not.

For there, before him on a primitive bunk, was Jim.  And also before him was he himself.

The other he was kneeling beneath Jim, sucking him off.  And Jim was moaning, "Leonard."  Not "Bones."

Thoughts raced through his head at warp speed.  He should leave, was the prominent one.  The realization hit him all at once:  The Jim who had been in his tent wasn't the real one, just as the mint julep and the magnolias -- and the windchime, and the breeze, were not real somehow.  They were all ... *manufactured* in response to his own whims.  Something on this infernal planet had read his mind, had made his every wish come true, no matter how trivial.  No matter how vital.

Then another rushing thought:  This alternate Leonard is *Jim's* fantasy! Jim wants me after all!

Or is he just plain horny and doesn't care who sucks him off?  I should leave ...

The forgotten front door slammed, making any inner debate moot.

Jim opened his eyes, took in the scene.  "Bones?"

"I ... Jim."  He was rooted to the spot, and couldn't form a sentence if his life had depended upon it.

The other McCoy vanished without so much as a transporter shimmer.

Jim's wet, leaking erection hung out in the chilly cabin air.  Jim looked around, seemingly for something to cover himself with, but the gray woolen blanket was tucked tightly around the mattress.  And he had nothing else nearby.  "Bones ... "  Jim dipped his eyes to stare at the dirt floor. "Leonard."

Wordlessly, Leonard knelt down and took Jim into his mouth.

It was a delight, Len thought, to watch Jim in ecstasy -- the way his mouth formed  a tiny "o" at times, and at times went slack for lack of power to control his face.  Why, he could almost get horny again just watching it.

Wait, he *was* getting horny again.  How could that be possible?  He lost his rhythm and had to pull away from Jim, who groaned in frustration.

For some reason, his odd dream of the subspace radio flashed through his mind once more.  "Jim ... I'm sorry.  Something's happening to me."  For there was a strange vibration in the room; he could feel it throughout his body -- as he remembered from the Johnson, but more intense.  And originating from, of all places, his colon.

He looked up to study Jim, who only stared into the near distance, ignoring him completely.  With a gutteral sound, Jim loosed himself into the cold air.

Trying to ignore his own fast-growing arousal, Len hastened to the washroom to find a towel for Jim.  Returning, he cleaned things up and then sat next to Jim on the rough, woolen blanket.


Jim blinked as if waking from a deep trance.  "This place ... reads our minds, doesn't it, Len?"

Leonard could only nod as the vibration increased.

"I saw my old horse, Thunder.  I rode him.  I just thought they had a goodreplica here ... thought maybe you'd mentioned something ... "

"Jim."  He caught Jim's eye, drew him away from his thoughts.  "You feel it, now.  Don't you?"

Absently, Jim nodded.  "Yes."  He looked down, and Leonard followed his eye. They were both hard.  Leonard paused to slip off his shorts.

All at once, the vibration, pulling, whatever it could be called, increased to full intensity.  Both of them cried out and climaxed again.

This time, no one could be bothered to wipe anything up.

"Jim," Leonard panted, "Get on your hands and knees."

"I hardly think it's the time for that," Jim gasped.  "I just now ... "

"Just do it."

Jim obeyed, and around Jim's anus, McCoy saw a glowing force field.

The glowing force field from an anal dilator; or, as the enlisted men would say, a butt plug.  And Len could feel that he was wearing one also.  He told Jim.

"But how ... "

"The same way that everything else happens on this planet, Jim.  It reads our minds, delivers the thing we want most, sometimes even before we know ourselves that we want it."

"But, the ... the ... I can't describe it; it's like a vibration, yet ... "

"It's a Subspace butt plug, Jim.  I've had to remove a few from patients after the force field guard, um, failed.  Should have realized earlier, but, you know ...

"I understand, Len.  It's a strange planet."

Suddenly Len's plug blasted to full subspace power again.  "Who wanted that?"  he gasped, eyes wide.  "Was it me or you?"

"Sorry, Len; I'm afraid I wanted to ... see you.  Finish.  I was too busy last time, and I ... "

"Yegads, Jim, squeeze it.  I'm gonna explode!"  Jim squeezed.  The sensation declined to tolerable levels, but soon he was coming like a photon torpedo anyway.

And so it went, through the night.  Any errant thought from one or the other was bound to have one or both of them indisposed.  The mutual squeezing seemed to help diminish the mind-warping subspace buttwonk, though.  And luckily the ... whatever it was on the planet put a couple more logs on the fire, and gave them a nice dinner to boot.  Although the dinner got interrupted a few times.

Finally, as the orange glow of sunlight reached in to meet the dying embers of the fire, they curled into each other's arms, under the woolen blanket, and slept in undisturbed exhaustion.


Leonard materialized in the transporter room with Jim.  Spock and his skeleton crew were back from their maintenance trip to Starbase 24. Shoreleave was over for now, and Len couldn't help noticing how happy most of his fellow crewmates looked.  Certainly they would return to this place



Challenge 81:  Sex with sex toys