Fic: Seventeen
Title: Seventeen
Pairing: McCoy/Chekov
Rating: I'd say a light-ish R
Summary: response to this prompt. McCoy was not told that Ensign Jail-bait was Jail-bait. He is displeased with this news. And maybe just a little turned on.
Chekov had almost forgotten about his little slip. What with the race to save Earth and all the other dramatics of the past who-knew-how-long, he thought he could be forgiven a lot.
McCoy didn't seem to agree. "Seventeen," he said in a low, angry voice that made Chekov want to suck him off, offer up his ass, anything to draw the edge from that biting tone.
"...Da," Chekov said slowly, nervous to the point of wishing McCoy wasn't standing between him and the door.
"Take off your clothes. Fold them, too, you lying little shit."
Chekov winced at the tone but rushed to obey.
"You realize I could get arrested just for staring at you like this? Much less for half the things I want to do to you right now. I mean, your parents would have to press charges, but I dunno - you think they'd do that? God knows I would, if my baby girl was sixteen or seventeen and a grumpy thirty-something was boning her. Hell, I wouldn't bother the police, I'd just kill the bastard."
The shuddering breaths are not sobs, though they want to be. He hadn't thought much of the danger to McCoy, though he also knew that danger was truly minimal; Chekov was emancipated as soon as he entered the Academy and thus, his parents can't technically sue on his behalf unless he can't do anything on his own behalf.
"Hands on the wall." Chekov didn't question it. He heard McCoy's belt slip from his trousers and wondered what McCoy had planned.
"In the 18th century, junior officers in navies all over Earth were punished with anything from a whipping to a hanging. The temptation to beat your ass black and blue is overwhelming, but I'd only be creating more work for myself." Even as he spoke, Chekov could feel the slick leather caress his buttocks and inner thighs. McCoy had the belt doubled over; when it hooked around Chekov's cock, he switched his grip to only the buckle and pulled it loose with a quick snap that left a stinging welt on Chekov's right thigh. The ensign cried out in shock and pain.
McCoy shoved him to his knees. He moved in front of Chekov and the teenager could see now that the man was just as naked, erection jutting out between his hips and bobbing only inches from Chekov's face.
The buckle is still in McCoy's hand, but the rest of the belt was left lying on Chekov's shoulder and back, clinging to him like a threat.
"Wrap that pretty mouth around me before I change my mind about that whipping, boy."
At last an order Chekov could obey with enthusiasm.
Pairing: McCoy/Chekov
Rating: I'd say a light-ish R
Summary: response to this prompt. McCoy was not told that Ensign Jail-bait was Jail-bait. He is displeased with this news. And maybe just a little turned on.
Chekov had almost forgotten about his little slip. What with the race to save Earth and all the other dramatics of the past who-knew-how-long, he thought he could be forgiven a lot.
McCoy didn't seem to agree. "Seventeen," he said in a low, angry voice that made Chekov want to suck him off, offer up his ass, anything to draw the edge from that biting tone.
"...Da," Chekov said slowly, nervous to the point of wishing McCoy wasn't standing between him and the door.
"Take off your clothes. Fold them, too, you lying little shit."
Chekov winced at the tone but rushed to obey.
"You realize I could get arrested just for staring at you like this? Much less for half the things I want to do to you right now. I mean, your parents would have to press charges, but I dunno - you think they'd do that? God knows I would, if my baby girl was sixteen or seventeen and a grumpy thirty-something was boning her. Hell, I wouldn't bother the police, I'd just kill the bastard."
The shuddering breaths are not sobs, though they want to be. He hadn't thought much of the danger to McCoy, though he also knew that danger was truly minimal; Chekov was emancipated as soon as he entered the Academy and thus, his parents can't technically sue on his behalf unless he can't do anything on his own behalf.
"Hands on the wall." Chekov didn't question it. He heard McCoy's belt slip from his trousers and wondered what McCoy had planned.
"In the 18th century, junior officers in navies all over Earth were punished with anything from a whipping to a hanging. The temptation to beat your ass black and blue is overwhelming, but I'd only be creating more work for myself." Even as he spoke, Chekov could feel the slick leather caress his buttocks and inner thighs. McCoy had the belt doubled over; when it hooked around Chekov's cock, he switched his grip to only the buckle and pulled it loose with a quick snap that left a stinging welt on Chekov's right thigh. The ensign cried out in shock and pain.
McCoy shoved him to his knees. He moved in front of Chekov and the teenager could see now that the man was just as naked, erection jutting out between his hips and bobbing only inches from Chekov's face.
The buckle is still in McCoy's hand, but the rest of the belt was left lying on Chekov's shoulder and back, clinging to him like a threat.
"Wrap that pretty mouth around me before I change my mind about that whipping, boy."
At last an order Chekov could obey with enthusiasm.