He responded, leaned into the sound of his name before he knew what he was doing, knees touching floor on either side of hips tense and narrow under his.

That was him, his name curling up from cool lips that Bones knew the taste of. James pronounced it exactly as his captain did, smooth wet vowels gliding upward from low in his throat.

Ael.

Bones would have fallen on him with a soft moan, pressed husky kisses along fresh pink scars.

Ayel hooked blunt nails into them instead, clutched tight enough to get a gasp as he bit at Kirk's chin, jawbone, lips. Leaving marks. Hunting the taste of iron.

Looking for what Bones knew.