[fic:] Jealous of Your Cigarette
Title: Jealous of Your Cigarette
Author's name:
essence_09
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Smoking?
Summary: Jim and Bones are at a bar one night, and Bones can't seem to concentrate on anything other than the cigarette between Jim's lips.
Notes: First time I've written something in two year, also the first time I've written slash. Hope you guys like! Also much love to my fabulous beta
ermazing . Title taken from and inspired by Hawksley Workman's "Jealous of Your Cigarette." This fic can also be credited to mad_teagirl and suchaprince's wonderful fanmix Love Will Tear Us Apart. Also comments are lovely!
Disclaimer:I could never come up with the brilliance that is Star Trek. I am merely playing with them and they shall be returned promptly.
He should find the habit disgusting. He’s a doctor, damn it. You would think that smoking would no longer be in practice in the 23rd century, but that sadly isn’t the case. McCoy knows all the health risks that come with smoking, and being around those who smoke. He’s seen what it can do to your organs, the images he saw in Ole Miss are the first thing that comes to mind whenever he sees someone light up. McCoy can’t help but picture all the harm that it does to a person’s body. Despite all of this, all of his years as a doctor, it’s with one look at Jim with his cigarette and he’s turned on.
McCoy downs his bourbon, slamming the glass on the bar. His gaze drawn to the reason for his second-hand smoke induced musings, Jim Kirk. Jim Kirk who is leaning against the bar, cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes skimming the bar’s clientele.
This has become routine for them, the only difference tonight is that Jim is smoking which is something he rarely does. At least, not around him. But tonight he’s got that cigarette and Bones can’t keep his gaze from becoming fixed on Jim’s mouth.
Bones tears his eyes away from Jim’s face and signals the bartender for another drink. He thinks it might be his fifth drink tonight, but he really isn’t keeping track, at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.
“Feeling the pressing urge to get smashed, Bones?” Jim asks, smoke wafting from his mouth.
Bones mutters something, which sounds an awful lot like ‘fuck off’ to Jim who can’t help but smirk in reply; to which Bones counters with a scowls and takes a drink. They lapse back into silence, which is just as well in the crowded bar. Bones looks back at Jim’s mouth where there is another cigarette clenched between his lips as he grapples with his lighter. Bones can feel his mouth water slightly. He starts to get hard just as Jim wraps his lips around the cigarette and blows out some smoke. No matter what he does, Bones can’t help but wish that Jim would wrap him mouth around him.
Although he hasn’t moved from his place next to Bones at the bar, Jim’s gaze is still scanning the pub’s crowd. Once he finishes one cigarette he lights another one. Jim can feel the growing frustration rolling of Bones in waves, and he wonders what it is that’s got him so wound up. Well, other than the fact that Jim has taken to ‘impersonating a chimney and his lungs would soon look as such’, at least that’s what Bones keeps tells him. He also knows that Bones dislikes the fact that he smokes and is especially irritated by it when he it’s around him. But in Jim’s mind, it’s either take another drag from his cigarette or get into a drunken bar brawl and he likes to think he’s outgrown those. Unless his reasons are completely justified.
Jim has gotten several lectures from Bones, about how every breath he inhaled from ‘that cancer-stick’ he was destroying his lungs and heart. Hell, Bones once pulled out a holovid that demonstrated the lung deterioration of chronic smokers, something Jim never wanted to see again. Crazy Romulans he could deal with; the inner workings of people, not so much. It once got to the point where Bones threatened to hypospray him, which wasn’t fair because he knows how much Jim hates them.
Despite all of Bones’ previous threats; Jim looks around the crowd listlessly, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply. He feels restless and, right now, smoking is the only thing that is calming him down. Whenever he felt this restless before he would either fight or fuck. Now, neither seems particularly appealing to him; except maybe for the sex, but no one catches his eye.
McCoy decides he’s finally had enough of Jim’s frustrating habit. He yanks the cigarette from Jim’s fingers, stamps it out on the nearest ashtray and grabs him by the elbow steering them out of the club. Meanwhile Jim goes from slightly dumfounded to trying to wriggle his arm from Bones’ vice grip. He then decides it better to just go along with it and see where it is that Bones is taking them.
Bones finally manages to get them out of the bar and goes to a more secluded area outside. Jim manages to get out a small groan when his back hits the wall, the force slightly reverberating through his chest when Bones’ mouth latches onto his.
Although slightly surprised by Bones’ actions, he welcomes the kiss, none the less, kissing Bones back with as much fervor. It’s intense, a clashing of tongues and lips; it seems more like a battle. There is the sound of someone moaning and Jim can’t tell if it’s him or Bones. Eventually Bones the upper hand gains the upper hand and takes control, nibbling on Jim’s lower lip. It’s only after a couple of minutes when breathing becomes a necessity, that they finally part. They are both panting, chests heaving, when Jim wonders when did Bones’ hand get half-way up his shirt?
Bones starts kissing his way across Jim’s jaw, trailing a path of kisses up to his ear where he catches the lobe between his teeth. He keeps going until Jim turns into a nonsensical mass of goo that is sputtering words of encouragement.
“What have I told you about smoking?” Bones growls into Jim’s ear. Jim can’t help but shudder slightly in response, the growl running right through him. He silently thanks whoever had the brilliant idea to make cigarettes without the horrible taste. If they hadn’t Bones would never kiss him again.
“But, you get the cigarette flavor out of my mouth.” Jim pouts.
“Damn it, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a breath mint!” Bones mutters.
“Doctor, not a breath mint. Got it.” Jim mumbles between kisses.
Author's name:
essence_09
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Smoking?
Summary: Jim and Bones are at a bar one night, and Bones can't seem to concentrate on anything other than the cigarette between Jim's lips.
Notes: First time I've written something in two year, also the first time I've written slash. Hope you guys like! Also much love to my fabulous beta
ermazing . Title taken from and inspired by Hawksley Workman's "Jealous of Your Cigarette." This fic can also be credited to mad_teagirl and suchaprince's wonderful fanmix Love Will Tear Us Apart. Also comments are lovely!
Disclaimer:I could never come up with the brilliance that is Star Trek. I am merely playing with them and they shall be returned promptly.
He should find the habit disgusting. He’s a doctor, damn it. You would think that smoking would no longer be in practice in the 23rd century, but that sadly isn’t the case. McCoy knows all the health risks that come with smoking, and being around those who smoke. He’s seen what it can do to your organs, the images he saw in Ole Miss are the first thing that comes to mind whenever he sees someone light up. McCoy can’t help but picture all the harm that it does to a person’s body. Despite all of this, all of his years as a doctor, it’s with one look at Jim with his cigarette and he’s turned on.
McCoy downs his bourbon, slamming the glass on the bar. His gaze drawn to the reason for his second-hand smoke induced musings, Jim Kirk. Jim Kirk who is leaning against the bar, cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes skimming the bar’s clientele.
This has become routine for them, the only difference tonight is that Jim is smoking which is something he rarely does. At least, not around him. But tonight he’s got that cigarette and Bones can’t keep his gaze from becoming fixed on Jim’s mouth.
Bones tears his eyes away from Jim’s face and signals the bartender for another drink. He thinks it might be his fifth drink tonight, but he really isn’t keeping track, at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.
“Feeling the pressing urge to get smashed, Bones?” Jim asks, smoke wafting from his mouth.
Bones mutters something, which sounds an awful lot like ‘fuck off’ to Jim who can’t help but smirk in reply; to which Bones counters with a scowls and takes a drink. They lapse back into silence, which is just as well in the crowded bar. Bones looks back at Jim’s mouth where there is another cigarette clenched between his lips as he grapples with his lighter. Bones can feel his mouth water slightly. He starts to get hard just as Jim wraps his lips around the cigarette and blows out some smoke. No matter what he does, Bones can’t help but wish that Jim would wrap him mouth around him.
Although he hasn’t moved from his place next to Bones at the bar, Jim’s gaze is still scanning the pub’s crowd. Once he finishes one cigarette he lights another one. Jim can feel the growing frustration rolling of Bones in waves, and he wonders what it is that’s got him so wound up. Well, other than the fact that Jim has taken to ‘impersonating a chimney and his lungs would soon look as such’, at least that’s what Bones keeps tells him. He also knows that Bones dislikes the fact that he smokes and is especially irritated by it when he it’s around him. But in Jim’s mind, it’s either take another drag from his cigarette or get into a drunken bar brawl and he likes to think he’s outgrown those. Unless his reasons are completely justified.
Jim has gotten several lectures from Bones, about how every breath he inhaled from ‘that cancer-stick’ he was destroying his lungs and heart. Hell, Bones once pulled out a holovid that demonstrated the lung deterioration of chronic smokers, something Jim never wanted to see again. Crazy Romulans he could deal with; the inner workings of people, not so much. It once got to the point where Bones threatened to hypospray him, which wasn’t fair because he knows how much Jim hates them.
Despite all of Bones’ previous threats; Jim looks around the crowd listlessly, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply. He feels restless and, right now, smoking is the only thing that is calming him down. Whenever he felt this restless before he would either fight or fuck. Now, neither seems particularly appealing to him; except maybe for the sex, but no one catches his eye.
McCoy decides he’s finally had enough of Jim’s frustrating habit. He yanks the cigarette from Jim’s fingers, stamps it out on the nearest ashtray and grabs him by the elbow steering them out of the club. Meanwhile Jim goes from slightly dumfounded to trying to wriggle his arm from Bones’ vice grip. He then decides it better to just go along with it and see where it is that Bones is taking them.
Bones finally manages to get them out of the bar and goes to a more secluded area outside. Jim manages to get out a small groan when his back hits the wall, the force slightly reverberating through his chest when Bones’ mouth latches onto his.
Although slightly surprised by Bones’ actions, he welcomes the kiss, none the less, kissing Bones back with as much fervor. It’s intense, a clashing of tongues and lips; it seems more like a battle. There is the sound of someone moaning and Jim can’t tell if it’s him or Bones. Eventually Bones the upper hand gains the upper hand and takes control, nibbling on Jim’s lower lip. It’s only after a couple of minutes when breathing becomes a necessity, that they finally part. They are both panting, chests heaving, when Jim wonders when did Bones’ hand get half-way up his shirt?
Bones starts kissing his way across Jim’s jaw, trailing a path of kisses up to his ear where he catches the lobe between his teeth. He keeps going until Jim turns into a nonsensical mass of goo that is sputtering words of encouragement.
“What have I told you about smoking?” Bones growls into Jim’s ear. Jim can’t help but shudder slightly in response, the growl running right through him. He silently thanks whoever had the brilliant idea to make cigarettes without the horrible taste. If they hadn’t Bones would never kiss him again.
“But, you get the cigarette flavor out of my mouth.” Jim pouts.
“Damn it, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a breath mint!” Bones mutters.
“Doctor, not a breath mint. Got it.” Jim mumbles between kisses.