Remix revealed and Five Acts IV, all in a rare public post...
So now I can share with the class that, against my better judgement, I did pick up a pinch hit for Remix Redux, and it turned out to be the longest piece of fanfiction I have ever written as a solo project.
All I Want (is to solve your puzzle)Fandom: Supernatural. Yes, it's a Sam/Gabriel high school AU, with hints of Dean/Cas. I know ( Read more... )
All I Want (is to solve your puzzle)Fandom: Supernatural. Yes, it's a Sam/Gabriel high school AU, with hints of Dean/Cas. I know ( Read more... )
The doctor's heavier than he looks, all muscle and vitriol, thighs hot where they lay against his skin. There's a glass, carefully balanced on Kirk's shoulder blade, a trickle of liquid is working its way down his back, cooler than the skin. Winding a path through whatever the man's writing. Occasionally the glass will lift, come back lighter, or heavier, bottom ringed with liquid.
"In my official capacity, as Chief Medical Officer I'm telling you to stop fidgeting," McCoy says firmly, then digs his knee into the soft skin at Kirk's waist hard enough for his ribs to feel it.
"I think this would be frowned upon - in an official capacity." Kirk let's strong fingers push into his hair and turn his head on the pillow. Not trying to shut him up - Kirk thinks maybe McCoy does it just because he can.
"So, I'm about to bring shame on the medical profession. Which is your fault, naturally." Alcohol turns McCoy's voice into a low, smokey purr, dragged up out of his throat. It's the perfect voice for insults and curses and dark, explicit promises.
Kirk would try and look over his shoulder, but the glass and the expensive scotch will end up in the sheets. He's pretty sure McCoy's still too sober to forgive him for that.
"Your pathological inability to do what you're told, coupled with your recklessness - how the universe saw fit to give you responsibility, I have no idea."
"The universe loves me."
"Not as much as you love yourself." The word's are grumbled from overhead.
"You love me too," Kirk drawls out. "All this attention, it's the only explanation."
"No, I'm drunk and I want to fuck you, which you know damn well, you arrogant, thoughtless little tease."
"So do it." Kirk laughs. "When have you ever known me to say no?"
"That's a word you seem to have trouble with, strange thing, for only being two letters. Your impulse control is practically non-existent."
The glass on his shoulder moves, liquid splashing down his back, and McCoy makes a low, distracted noise like he's watching the trail. It's confirmed when a thumb drags the wetness lower, trails it over the curve of his ass.
"Is that your considered medical opinion?" Kirk asks.
"The fact that you have an incurable case of mounting everything within range? Damn straight, that's my considered medical opinion."
"And yet, you seem to be the one in charge at the minute."
McCoy doesn't say anything, but the glass lifts away from his shoulder, hits some other hard surface with a thud - and then a clatter, suggesting a lack of stability. The sounds barely finished before McCoy's weight shifts, and there's pressure against the inside of his thighs. One of Kirk's knees ends up off the narrow bed, thumping into the wall and the dull edge of pain runs all the way up his leg.
It's blanked out, instantly when strong, slick fingers open him up.
"Don't even pretend anyone else is ever in charge," McCoy says roughly. "Because we always seem to end up doing exactly what you want."
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Kirk has enough breath to laugh, or groan, but not both. He's not sure which one wins.
Fingers bite into the back of his neck, hard enough to bruise, catching tighter on the first slow push, tighter still on every one that comes after. Until every thrust jolts him forward, body strung tight and hot. Dirty little gasps falling out of him. He shoves the pillow out of the way and curses into the sheet, curves in a way that makes it easier and rougher at the same time.
McCoy always makes him feel like he's being punished for something. Which is fair, since he always feels a little bit like he deserves it. He's going to have glaringly obvious bruises tomorrow.
"I should keep you like this all night, you might learn something."
"That must be what I want too," Kirk says breathlessly, and there are more swearwords and a hard roll of hips. When he reaches for himself anyway, his hand is smacked out of the way.
"When I say and not before." McCoy's voice shakes more than a little.
"Sir, yes, sir," Kirk manages.
"You're going to be the death of me," McCoy says through his teeth. "The death of me."
Kirk shifts twists his fingers in the sheet and pushes back. "But it will be awesome."
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This is just... I mean, I can't even tell you how awesome and perfect and fuck... just scorching hot this is. Oh god, the power dynamic alone is already the best thing ever. And your characterizations are right on the money. Poor Bones, always so put-upon...
McCoy always makes him feel like he's being punished for something. Which is fair, since he always feels a little bit like he deserves it.
That is so perfect. Perfect, I say.
Thank you! :D
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McCoy voice is always a lot of fun in my head, so that's a huge compliment. He really is so amazingly put-upon and Kirk just makes it worse, all the time.
I'm very happy you liked it :D
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