ST FIC - never let your head hit the bed (without my hand behind it) (Kirk/McCoy)
Title: never let your head hit the bed (without my hand behind it)
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Genre: H/C
Beta: elfsausage *loves* Thank you!
A/N: This fic goes with these pictures from last week at jim_and_bones. After staring at those for a really inappropiate amount of time, I noticed the blond in the bottom picture is covering his face. This also crosses out the 'abandonment issues' box for my hc_bingo card.
Bones is kissing him, slow and soft, sliding his tongue against Jim’s like a caress. He’s cupping Jim’s jaw with his palms, stroking Jim’s cheeks softly with the pads of his thumbs, his fingertips warm and sure at the nape of his neck.
It’s been going on forever and it feels like it will never end, just Bones kissing him, and Jim’s been trying to get things moving, tried dirtying up the kiss, tried rocking his hips up against Bones, tried moaning wantonly, tried every fucking thing to get Bones to just fuck him already. But Bones doesn’t, counters every one of Jim’s moves by just pulling away, resting his forehead against Jim’s, staring into him, waiting.
It makes Jim feel more naked than his lack of clothes should permit, like Bones is looking at all the little parts of himself he’s managed to hide all the other times, looking at them and scheming how to expose them all. Bones should be pounding him into the mattress by now, fast and rough, because Jim wants it like that, he does, wants explosions, not this slow burn.
Jim doesn’t know what to do, how to move, what Bones wants from him. He’s trembling with the uncertainty of it, or maybe it’s Bones’ fingers trailing down his chest, a feather-like touch. Or maybe it’s Bones’ other hand, still cradling his head, tilting him back so he can suckle on Jim’s lower lip, nip at his mouth a little. Jim kisses back, feeling clumsy and unsure, his hands clenching at the sheets in frustration because he doesn’t want to feel like this, new, insecure. Jim doesn’t understand this and feels like and idiot for it, tensing up now and-
“Jim,” Bones breathes, hot and damp against his throat, “Relax, darlin.”
Jim twitches, closes his eyes, because that word sounds a lot different when Bones isn’t mixing it in with dirty directions or obscene praises. Jim can feel Bones’ drawling voice seeping into his skin, burning him up from the inside and reddening his cheeks. Bones keeps telling him to relax, everything’s fine, while stroking his hand down lower, over Jim’s stomach and his pelvis.
Just when Bones’ hand is curling around him Jim realizes with a shock he’s close to coming, his dick hard and flushed and leaking precome. Bones’ touch is nearly too much, has Jim bucking up his hips, and Bones lets him this time, helps him along with beautiful little twists of his wrist.
Bones says huskily, ‘there you go, so gorgeous’, before kissing him again, claiming Jim’s mouth as his own, claiming Jim as his own, and it is too much, Jim’s coming, gasping as he spurts in Bones’ hand. Bones kisses him through it, catches all Jim’s noises and keeps them for himself.
“Spread your legs.” Bones murmurs against his lips, and Jim obeys dumbly, still half-gone. His eyes flutter closed as Bones’ fingers slowly push in to him, slick with Jim’s come, carefully opening him up one at a time. There’s barely any resistance at all when Bones finally presses his cock inside. Jim feels boneless and meek and good, opening up, and it’s like a freefall from space, terrifying but exhilarating, too.
The bed feels like a cold stone floor compared to the soft comfort of Bones on top of him, surrounding him, warm and solid, covering him. Bones’ cock is big and blunt inside him, hot, rubbing insistently against his prostate with every rock from Bones’ hips. The hand cradling Jim’s head is moving, petting him, and Bones’ other hand is lifting Jim’s leg to curl around his waist so he can lean closer to kiss and nibble and suck at Jim’s lips, jaw, throat.
Jim’s heart lurches suddenly, brutally, because Bones isn’t fucking him, Bones is making love to him. The realization knocks the breath out of him, abruptly obvious, and all he can hear is his frantic heartbeat and a voice, panicked, gasping that nonono, wait stopwait, don’t -
And Bones does stop, pulls out, he’s leaving - Jim starts gasping for air, can’t catch his breath, and he puts his hands over his face because Bones can’t see him like this, vulnerable. Some distant part of him is yelling at him that Bones isn’t leaving, that those are Bones’ arms wrapping around him, Bones’ voice telling him it’s okay, to calm down.
Bones rolls them on their sides, pulls Jim close so his head is pillowed on Bones’ upper arm, their legs tangled together. He cards his fingers through Jim’s hair, soothingly, and it works because Jim isn’t hyperventilating anymore, his heart’s slowing down, and all that’s left is an uncomfortable combination of fear and shame, cloying.
“Don’t hide your face, darlin.” Bones tells him quietly, “C’mon, look at me.”, but Jim can’t - can’t - and he shakes his head jerkily, furious suddenly, because Bones gave this to him but Jim doesn’t deserve it at all, how could Bones be so stupid?
Bones pulls him even closer, tightens the arm he’s got curled around Jim’s shoulder. He presses his forehead against Jim’s, softly, whispers, ‘Not stupid’ and ‘Let me see you, darlin’ and how Jim doesn’t have to be afraid because it’s just Bones and Bones loves him, he does, and Jim believes him, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.
“It means I want to see you, Jim.” Bones says calmly, calmingly, “All the time I want to look at you and talk to you and take care of you. And that won’t ever go away.”, and he takes Jim wrist cautiously, tugs it away. Jim lets him, stares up at Bones’ painfully handsome face, and thinks that that’s a pretty good description.
End
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Genre: H/C
Beta: elfsausage *loves* Thank you!
A/N: This fic goes with these pictures from last week at jim_and_bones. After staring at those for a really inappropiate amount of time, I noticed the blond in the bottom picture is covering his face. This also crosses out the 'abandonment issues' box for my hc_bingo card.
Bones is kissing him, slow and soft, sliding his tongue against Jim’s like a caress. He’s cupping Jim’s jaw with his palms, stroking Jim’s cheeks softly with the pads of his thumbs, his fingertips warm and sure at the nape of his neck.
It’s been going on forever and it feels like it will never end, just Bones kissing him, and Jim’s been trying to get things moving, tried dirtying up the kiss, tried rocking his hips up against Bones, tried moaning wantonly, tried every fucking thing to get Bones to just fuck him already. But Bones doesn’t, counters every one of Jim’s moves by just pulling away, resting his forehead against Jim’s, staring into him, waiting.
It makes Jim feel more naked than his lack of clothes should permit, like Bones is looking at all the little parts of himself he’s managed to hide all the other times, looking at them and scheming how to expose them all. Bones should be pounding him into the mattress by now, fast and rough, because Jim wants it like that, he does, wants explosions, not this slow burn.
Jim doesn’t know what to do, how to move, what Bones wants from him. He’s trembling with the uncertainty of it, or maybe it’s Bones’ fingers trailing down his chest, a feather-like touch. Or maybe it’s Bones’ other hand, still cradling his head, tilting him back so he can suckle on Jim’s lower lip, nip at his mouth a little. Jim kisses back, feeling clumsy and unsure, his hands clenching at the sheets in frustration because he doesn’t want to feel like this, new, insecure. Jim doesn’t understand this and feels like and idiot for it, tensing up now and-
“Jim,” Bones breathes, hot and damp against his throat, “Relax, darlin.”
Jim twitches, closes his eyes, because that word sounds a lot different when Bones isn’t mixing it in with dirty directions or obscene praises. Jim can feel Bones’ drawling voice seeping into his skin, burning him up from the inside and reddening his cheeks. Bones keeps telling him to relax, everything’s fine, while stroking his hand down lower, over Jim’s stomach and his pelvis.
Just when Bones’ hand is curling around him Jim realizes with a shock he’s close to coming, his dick hard and flushed and leaking precome. Bones’ touch is nearly too much, has Jim bucking up his hips, and Bones lets him this time, helps him along with beautiful little twists of his wrist.
Bones says huskily, ‘there you go, so gorgeous’, before kissing him again, claiming Jim’s mouth as his own, claiming Jim as his own, and it is too much, Jim’s coming, gasping as he spurts in Bones’ hand. Bones kisses him through it, catches all Jim’s noises and keeps them for himself.
“Spread your legs.” Bones murmurs against his lips, and Jim obeys dumbly, still half-gone. His eyes flutter closed as Bones’ fingers slowly push in to him, slick with Jim’s come, carefully opening him up one at a time. There’s barely any resistance at all when Bones finally presses his cock inside. Jim feels boneless and meek and good, opening up, and it’s like a freefall from space, terrifying but exhilarating, too.
The bed feels like a cold stone floor compared to the soft comfort of Bones on top of him, surrounding him, warm and solid, covering him. Bones’ cock is big and blunt inside him, hot, rubbing insistently against his prostate with every rock from Bones’ hips. The hand cradling Jim’s head is moving, petting him, and Bones’ other hand is lifting Jim’s leg to curl around his waist so he can lean closer to kiss and nibble and suck at Jim’s lips, jaw, throat.
Jim’s heart lurches suddenly, brutally, because Bones isn’t fucking him, Bones is making love to him. The realization knocks the breath out of him, abruptly obvious, and all he can hear is his frantic heartbeat and a voice, panicked, gasping that nonono, wait stopwait, don’t -
And Bones does stop, pulls out, he’s leaving - Jim starts gasping for air, can’t catch his breath, and he puts his hands over his face because Bones can’t see him like this, vulnerable. Some distant part of him is yelling at him that Bones isn’t leaving, that those are Bones’ arms wrapping around him, Bones’ voice telling him it’s okay, to calm down.
Bones rolls them on their sides, pulls Jim close so his head is pillowed on Bones’ upper arm, their legs tangled together. He cards his fingers through Jim’s hair, soothingly, and it works because Jim isn’t hyperventilating anymore, his heart’s slowing down, and all that’s left is an uncomfortable combination of fear and shame, cloying.
“Don’t hide your face, darlin.” Bones tells him quietly, “C’mon, look at me.”, but Jim can’t - can’t - and he shakes his head jerkily, furious suddenly, because Bones gave this to him but Jim doesn’t deserve it at all, how could Bones be so stupid?
Bones pulls him even closer, tightens the arm he’s got curled around Jim’s shoulder. He presses his forehead against Jim’s, softly, whispers, ‘Not stupid’ and ‘Let me see you, darlin’ and how Jim doesn’t have to be afraid because it’s just Bones and Bones loves him, he does, and Jim believes him, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.
“It means I want to see you, Jim.” Bones says calmly, calmingly, “All the time I want to look at you and talk to you and take care of you. And that won’t ever go away.”, and he takes Jim wrist cautiously, tugs it away. Jim lets him, stares up at Bones’ painfully handsome face, and thinks that that’s a pretty good description.
End