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It’s the nicest gym he’s ever been in, not that that’s saying much. It isn’t exactly hard to top the Washington County Combined School weight room.
Or the squat stand behind Frank’s place with the plates rusting out, which doesn’t really count. And anyway, Frank sold the thing about a year after Jim got back earthside, just when he started using it regularly.
The only gym after that was a dump that was cheap but attracted every asshole in Riverside.
But now those assholes are still back in Iowa, and he’s here amid the rows and rows of gleaming cardio equipment, filled with cadets trying to get a jump start on PT before classes started the next day. He’s headed to the free weights but doesn’t mind a slow stroll through.
Damn. Pike should have just told him how fine ‘Fleet cadets were and he wouldn’t have needed to go bringing up his dad.
He already knows everyone expects him to be all show, no substance, doing curls in the squat rack, a couple vanity reps of bench press. But fuck them. It’s leg day. Back squat, deadlift, then maybe leg press, hamstring curls, and end with calf raises to round things out.
As he starts his second set of squats, he can tell someone’s watching him. There are open racks, so it can’t be someone waiting to work in, and it’s not like he knows anyone. Maybe then just someone who appreciates all his hard work. Humanoid, male, about his height, from what he can tell in his peripheral vision. He can work with that. He keeps his focus ahead as he finishes the set, trying to pretend like he doesn’t notice his audience.
Once he’s racked the bar, he throws a wink to his admirer. The guy scowls, and then it clicks for him: on the shuttle, with the flask. He didn’t recognize him at first. He’s clean-shaven now, dark hair combed into place, sideburns tapered with surgical precision.
“You’re gonna hurt your back if you keep doing them that way. Besides, you’re not even hittin’ depth. Can I give you a few pointers?”
Anyone else he’d tell them exactly where they could put those pointers. But he pauses, taking in the one other obvious fuck-up who’d been amid the prim cadets on the shuttle from Riverside.
Shuttle Guy had said all he had left were his bones, but that’s clearly not the case.
Bones.
His Academy-issued exercise shirt is tight across the front, fabric puckering between his pecs and shoulders. It’d be easy to say it’s a size too small, but if it were the next size up, it’d obscure his lean torso. Maybe Starfleet Clothing and Textile Issue does know what they’re doing.
He must have already finished with his workout because there’s sweat at his armpits and at the small of his back. Not to mention he’s got a certain musk that’s combining with his peppery aftershave in a way that Jim’s brain really wants him to know is what the guy would smell like in bed.
Jim could have some fun with this, plus Shuttle Guy looks like maybe he knows what he’s talking about.
“Uh, sure.”
“It was Jim, right?”
“Yeah, Jim Kirk.”
“Okay then, Jim. Let me see you do a few squats without the bar.”
He feels ridiculous standing in a rack doing bodyweight squats. He also realizes he doesn’t remember the guy’s name and missed the one moment it wouldn’t have been weird to ask.
“I want to adjust your stance a little. You okay if I touch you?”
Jim’s pretty sure he’s watched a pornvid with exactly this scenario before and can’t tell if the guy is just fucking with him, flirting with him, or some other third thing he hasn’t thought of yet.
“Kid? You all right?” He’s got his eyebrows furrowed like he’s worried Jim’s about to stroke out or something.
“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s fine.”
“Okay, here, try this.” The guy he’s started calling Bones in his head nudges his legs further apart. “You’ve got long femurs and probably deep hip sockets which make it hard to go deep enough if your feet are close together. You can rotate your toes out a little bit more too.”
“No one’s ever complained about me not going deep enough before.” Jim leans in hard on the innuendo, a litmus test to figure out what this guy’s deal is.
Bones just rolls his eyes. “I’m a doctor. Just pretend I know a thing or two about anatomy for a minute, will you?”
Jim holds back an “I’m sure you do.” The guy shared his bourbon with him, never threw up directly on him, and seems like he’s genuinely trying to help, even if he’s being a little bit of a dick about it.
“Think hips open as you go down and keep your knees pushing out. Stay balanced in your feet though, don’t roll them out. You should feel this in your glutes, right through here.” Strong fingers trace from outside of his hip over his ass to his low back. He absolutely feels that and not just in his glutes.
Jim squats down, trying to focus on his movements and not the idea of Bones’ firm hands on his ass and where else he wouldn’t mind them.
“Don’t stop until the tops of your femurs are parallel with the ground. That’s a real squat. None of this half-assed shit. And it’s fine if your knees go over your toes. I don’t care what your high school football coach told you.”
It was seventh grade and wrestling, but sure, maybe Mr. Warner didn’t have the most thorough understanding of squat mechanics.
“Do I really seem like someone who played high school football to you?” Jim’s a little offended. He never wanted anything to do with those jocks or their Friday night games, and the feeling was mutual.
“Well, you certainly seem like someone who’s made a hobby of collecting concussions. That’s looking better, you’re gettin’ nice and low. Let’s try it just with the bar, no plates on it.”
Jim gets the bar low across his shoulders. The empty bar somehow feels even stupider than with nothing at all. He unracks the bar, takes two steps back, and starts his squat.
“You want your weight over midfoot and then the bar’s path should—”
“Yeah, yeah, straight line. I know.”
“Well, knowing in your head is one thing. Actually doing it and feeling it in your body is another. Lotta people learn it wrong when they’re younger and it’s hard to untrain yourself from that.”
Jim does a few more reps as Bones circles around him, frowning, assessing. Jim still can’t believe this is just another day at the gym for him and not some elaborate set-up.
“Pause at the bottom there. Try this.” He rests the edge of his broad hand at the top of Jim’s ass, right where his shorts and shirt meet. There’s a tightening low in Jim’s belly that is decidedly not just his abs bracing. “When you come up I want you to think of pushing my hand straight up. You want the movement to start with driving your hips up, not hinging your back up.”
Bones leaves his hand there as Jim pushes up. It doesn’t seem like it should change anything, but he does feel like he’s more in control, with a little more power to it.
“That’s lookin’ good. Much stronger. You ready to try it with more weight now?”
Jim nods and starts adding plates back on. “So you do this all the time? Some sort of weightlifting guardian angel?”
“Maybe I’ve got just a thing for desperate cases.”
“Hey, I wasn’t that bad.”
Bones doesn’t say anything. Just raises an eyebrow at him.
Jim’s got the bar loaded back up to where he had it before and dips under the bar, getting it down below his shoulders.
“Now that you’re going all the way down it’s gonna be harder to get out of the hole than it was before. You sure you want all that on?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“You know how to bail out safely if you need to?”
Maybe, he thinks. But “sure” is what comes out of his mouth.
The first two reps go fine. Bones’ way is definitely the harder way. Which Jim hates to admit means it’s probably also the right way.
In the mirror he can see Bones behind him, leaned against the rack, watching closely. On the third rep his form slips a little, and there’s a split second where he’s not sure he’s going to be able to get back up, but he recovers.
For the next rep, Bones comes in close behind him, an arm reaching forward under each of Jim’s armpits, his hands close to Jim’s chest. He’s not touching Jim at all, but Jim can feel the warmth of his body.
“I’m gonna spot you.”
No one’s ever spotted him like this before.
He’d be able to enjoy it a lot more if he didn’t have 190 pounds across his back.
“I’m right here, but you got this, kid.” It’s low in Jim’s ear, only for him to hear. “Two more reps.”
Jim inhales, braces, and begins his descent, remembering to keep his feet planted, knees out. Bones shadows him on the way down, mirroring Jim’s movements to stay aligned. He thinks about the hand on his hips as he pushes up, descends again, knees out, and then back up. Bones steps back only after Jim racks the bar. He never needed to catch Jim, never needed to actually touch him.
Jim’s feeling a little lightheaded and he’s not sure if it’s from the effort or something else.
“There you go, your first set of real squats,” he says with a smile when Jim turns around. Or really just a little crook on one side of his mouth, but it’s the closest thing to a smile Jim’s seen on him.
“So how much can you squat?” Jim wants to see him here another day, sweaty, grunting with the effort.
“Don’t worry about it, kid, it ain’t a competition. Anway, I’ve gotta go get ready for med clinic orientation. Don’t try that much again unless you can find someone willing to spot you who knows what they’re doing.”
He watches Bones stride out of the building, shorts just short enough to reveal his meaty hamstrings.
His plan was to do deadlifts next, but he realizes he’s got a problem he needs to take care of. He takes back what he said about Clothing & Textiles Issue. Causing this problem and then giving him no cover. It’d be great if they could come up with gym shorts that hid boners. That’d be some real valuable innovation. Good thing he knows how to solve this the old-fashioned way.
He abandons the bar, plates still on it, at the rack and heads for the locker room. Even he knows that’s bad gym etiquette, but everyone already probably thinks he’s a jackass first year, why not take advantage of that? And fuck, he can already tell his legs are going to be sore tomorrow. How’s he gonna walk the four flights up to his dorm room?
In the locker room, he heads into a shower stall and flips the hot water on, striping his clothes while it warms up. Freed from its Starfleet issue shorts and briefs, Jim’s cock springs up against his abs, already wet at the top.
He’s desperate to touch it, but now he’s got this idea in his head and he wants to give it a chance to play out. There’s something about having had Bones right behind him that Jim’s brain and dick have decided is very interesting.
Under the hot water, he’d come around behind Jim, the same way he did during the squats, but this time press his already hard cock against Jim’s ass. There’d be broad shoulders and those fucking biceps wrapping around him, breath hot on Jim’s neck.
“You worked so hard for me out there.” And it’s just like when he was spotting him, a low growl, just for Jim to hear. “Don’t tell me I wore you out too much though.” A roll of his hips presses his erection tight against Jim, making it clearly exactly what he has in mind.
In his head, Bones would make a point of studiously ignoring his cock to start. Instead he’d use those broad hands to trace big circles over Jim’s quads, still tight from the squats, letting his fingers ghost Jim’s balls at the top of the movement, then grazing along Jim’s hip crease, catching a little on the hair there.
“Can’t decide what my favorite part was. How well you listened, how strong you are, or that gorgeous ass.”
Jim can’t get the accent quite right in his head. Is that Tennessee? Texas? He gives up trying to figure it out. He just knows the dirty talk has a lot of potential.
He opens up a little room between their bodies, just so he has space to run his right hand over Jim’s butt cheek, giving it an approving squeeze, before bringing his hand to the center and skimming along the cleft of Jim’s ass. He dips deeper, and with a firm finger begins to massage the rim of Jim’s hole. He knows just the right pace, not waiting too long, but not rushing before Jim’s body has had a chance to adapt to the pressure.
“Jesus, you’re opening right up for me, kid.” He adds another finger. The water is not enough lube, but Jim relishes the slight burn with each thrust of one, two, then three long fingers.
He braces his left forearm against the wall as he surrenders to the need to touch his cock. Not for the first time he’s jealous of the species with tentacles or other extra appendages, because what he wouldn’t do for a finger or something up his ass right now.
Jim whines when he takes his fingers away, leaving him open, empty. He’s ready for the stretch of Bones pushing all the way in, filling him up, but it doesn’t come. Jim hinges his further forward, sending his hips back, desperate for more.
“Not yet, darlin’, you gotta be patient.”
“Need your dick in me, now.”
“Is that right?” It’s a deep drawl in Jim’s ear, and he’s sure it’s extra drawn out just to torment him. “You should know that I like someone with some manners. That’s all right though, I can wait until you ask nicely.” There’s a little warning bite on his shoulder that Jim’s traitorous dick twitches at.
Jim has no intention of giving in that easily. He can manage this: Bones’ breath ragged in his ear, the heat of his body perceptible even under the hot shower, a strong hand on Jim’s hip while the other explores his front, though Jim’s dick still hasn’t gotten any attention. If he wants to be captain, he’s going to have to go through worse than being tortured in the best way possible by some jacked, mouthy Southerner.
But then Bones takes his hand from Jim’s front and is guiding the tip of his cock to the outside of Jim’s asshole. Not entering though. No. He’s just circling the rim, using the hot slick of precome to slowly glide the head of his cock maddeningly around with just the barest hint of pressure. There are nerve-endings Jim didn’t even know he had, all ignited in anticipation, ready and willing, but instead stuck on the scalpel-edge of too much and not enough.
“Oh fuck. Now.”
“That’s not how you get what you want. ‘sides I could do this all day.” Jim knows that’s a damn lie, but he’s not exactly in a position to prove it.
“Fuck, now. Need you in me. Please.” He can barely string together words at this rate, let alone keep the desperation out of his voice.
Ha. And to think of all those teachers and judges who’d called him oppositional and anti-authoritarian.
Bones would give a little hum like he was taking his time considering it, but then would start to sink into him anyway. He’d have one hand gripping Jim’s hip and another splayed across Jim’s chest, holding him tight.
Jim can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth as the head of Bones’ cock presses in fully. It’s perfect and he wants more but Bones is keeping what some would call a leisurely pace and Jim would say is agonizingly slow. Given what he’d seen in the gym, this guy does not lack for hip power, but right now it’s all small rolls of his hips, each one carrying him just a little further into Jim. Jim hinges further forward, creating more space, until Bones is sunk deep in him.
It’s then that Bones finally starts to pick up the pace, putting some muscles behind it as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in, brushing across Jim’s prostate every time. “That’s right, you’re taking me so deep just like I knew you would. So strong, Jim.”
Jim’s achingly hard now, precome dripping from the head of his dick. But he won’t give himself the pressure he needs to finish things off. Not yet.
“Please, I need you to touch my cock now.” No one ever said Jim wasn’t a quick learner. He knows what Bones wants to hear.
“Well, since you asked so nice, I’ll see what I can do about that.”
He should have known to be more specific. He doesn’t get a strong hand around his dick. No, just fingers teasing along his shaft, a thumb swirling through the precome at the tip. Then finally, a few real pumps, synchronized with the movement of his hips. His breath quickens and he feels the tell-tale tightening in his balls.
But he’s already managed to find the worst tease in all of Starfleet. There’s a brief squeeze at the base of his cock and Bones takes his hand away.
“Want you to wait for me. Think you can do that?”
Jim can’t do more than nod and hope it’s true.
He gives himself over to Bones moving in him, a reverent hand across his chest. He gives up trying to be quiet. He gives up thinking about what he wants Bones to do next. There’s nothing beyond them and nothing he needs to do except hold on to the gossamer thread of control Bones has asked for.
“Come for me now, darlin’. That’s right—”
And all he does is wrap his hand back around Jim’s cock, just the barest touch, and suddenly there’s a rush of light and intensity that breaks Jim open, dissolving him into nothing but pure sensation, held together only by warm, strong hands.
It’s the water he becomes aware of first, still coming down hot on his back. He’s got his head resting on his arm, braced against the cool tile, and his own ragged panting loud in his ears.
When he finally blinks open his eyes, he sees his jizz is splattered all over the tile and has already started dripping down. He’d feel worse about it if there weren’t an automatic decon cycle that’d run after he was out of the stall.
He wouldn’t have guessed this is how it’d happen, his first orgasm in California, especially given the Academy pickings, but shit, if it had to be just him and his hand he can’t complain about what just happened.
Besides, he still has his first orgasm in space to look forward to and maybe there are a few things he can learn here in the next three years.