FIC: 'Every Mountain and Hill Shall be Made Low' by Thalia (3/3) (NC-17)
( Part One w/ header info) ( Part Two)
Day Eight
“So, Bones,” Jim asks jovially as he sits down next to him in the mess. “Going home to see Jo?”
“’Course,” McCoy replies, nudging his food with a fork while he contemplates his next sentence. “I was thinking of staying in San Francisco for the first night, though,” he says casually.
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
He clears his throat, but the words still come out excessively gravelly. “There’s a place I haven’t been since we were in the Academy, and I wanted to visit once before going back to the farm.”
“What, Ghirardelli’s?” Jim teases.
“Very clever, kid.” He shoots a glare at the captain. “No, just this bed & breakfast down by the water, twenty minutes or so from campus…” He waves his hand dismissively. “There’s a pub below it, the owner and I go way back, etc.”
“Oh, yeah, I know that place. I’ve never been able to-“ Jim grunts. ”I’ve never stayed there.” McCoy once again marvels at the kid’s imagination, then, because his mental picture had been pretty damn near spot on. Then Jim flashes a grin at McCoy, and that train of thought swiftly derails. “Mind if I tag along?”
McCoy almost smiles as Jim plays right into his hands. He can’t hear or see or smell any damn thing anymore, from anybody, but he doesn’t need it. He’s got Jim Kirk’s number, and it’s only a matter of time. He feels like rubbing his hands together like an old movie villain.
But he refrains, of course. “Suit yourself,” he replies drolly instead. “I can’t promise to be very exciting company.”
“Well, Bones, I’ve managed to put up with you so far, haven’t I? Plus, we all know I can easily leave your grumpy ass and find my own company.”
“A reassuring notion, thank you.”
“Hey, I do what I can.” Jim is grinning at him full-out, now, and McCoy can’t stop the one corner of his mouth from turning up. Goddamn, but he loves the little shit.
---
Day Nine
The owner of the place, the colorful yet surprisingly hard-drinking friend of McCoy’s, is so obviously star-struck upon meeting the oh-so-heroic James T Kirk that McCoy has to smother a laugh. He’s tired, though, and overly ready to get Jim into the room and, although he tries not to dwell on it, the hell into bed-or couch, or sink, or whatever happens to be convenient-so he interrupts the semi-idolatry. “Is everything settled up?”
Jarod shifts his gaze to McCoy reluctantly, then scowls good-naturedly. “Yes. You’re all set. Now, I know you’re on vacation, but try and get some sleep, okay?” He quirks an eyebrow at them, and McCoy can’t not chuckle.
“I’m sure we will. Thanks.” He shakes the proprietor’s hand again, then heads to the elevator. He shoots Kirk a raised eyebrow. “Quit gaping at me, Jim, people are going to think I just broke up with you.”
That gets a guffaw out of the captain. “Well, he was a step away from propositioning me. Some people get upset about that sort of thing.”
“Some people, not me. You gonna take him up on it?”
Jim freezes for just a split second, but McCoy sees it anyways, and it amuses him. “Well, I dunno, I’m kinda tired,” Jim throws back cockily. McCoy then volleys his usual eye roll, and Jim grins, and it feels like it always has. Mostly. Plus this annoying thrum of… of something. Energy. Awareness. Anticipation.
Then they’re at the correct door, and apparently Jim plans on following McCoy in before asking about his own room. Which works out fine for his line of thinking. McCoy runs the key card, and once the door slides open, he blocks the doorway until he’s put down his bags and can turn aside to let Jim through. He doesn’t want to miss the kid’s face once he sees the room.
He’s not disappointed.
Jim stops walking barely two feet into the room, just far enough for the door to slither shut behind him. His bags drop from his fingers, and the expression that steals over his features- Well, it looks like it’s Christmas, his birthday, and the last day of summer break, all at once.
His lips part softly, and he blinks hard once. “Bones… This is the strangest thing…”
“I know, kid,” McCoy says gruffly, unable to keep the smile from creeping into his voice.
But Jim isn’t paying close enough attention to hear it. “No, you really don’t,” he says with a short laugh. “I don’t know if this is supposed to be your room or mine, but if you say it’s yours, I might have to pull rank. Dude.” McCoy hasn’t heard this sort of childish delight from him in a long time. “I’ve never been here, but I’ve pictured it. I’ve always wanted to stay in a room like this. Hell, I’ve always wanted to get-“
Then, finally he notices the look on McCoy’s face. He stops short. “Bones?”
“You always wanted to get laid here, yes, I heard you. Well, here’s your chance.” He regards the room for a moment, quickly turning away from the gigantic four-poster that seems to be right in front of him. He listens to his blood thump through his brains a little more insistently than normal. Then he just does it. Throws down the first card. “I thought perhaps we could share the room tonight.”
Jim stares at him. And stares at him some more.
Then, to his credit, rolls with the punch like a champion. Which, well, of propositions, he might just be. “Bones, you’re-“ He gestures in an abrupt circle, clearly unable to formulate the words he’s looking for.
McCoy lets him dangle for a while, then takes pity on him. “Straight?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I-“
“Ah. Old-fashioned?”
“Bingo.” Kirk rocks back on his heels, but doesn’t break eye contact.
McCoy nods, not looking away either. “That’s true.”
“Then forget it. You know what would come of-“ He jerks his hand between them again. “-this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“So quit acting like you’d be okay with it. That’s not Bones. And I like Bones just fine the way he is.”
“Fine. How bout you quit the charming philanderer act, then?”
He almost laughs at that. “Yeah, right. Then I wouldn’t be Jim Kirk. And you may be a cranky old bastard, but you haven’t been beside that Jim Kirk these past few years because it’s good for your health. So again, I’m saying: forget about it.”
“That, my young friend, is not going to happen.” Done with talking, he walks across the room and stops far too close to Jim. Jim doesn’t flinch, though, because he’s Jim. Just keeps that ‘I’m an unflappable bastard’ smirk hovering on his face.
Then McCoy puts a finger up to Kirk’s bottom lip and drags it slowly across once. Twice.
But before he can get to three, Jim’s got his wrist in a vicegrip and the smirk is nowhere to be found. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.
McCoy’s own voice is so gruff it’s almost inaudible. “Enjoying what’s mine.”
The grip on his wrist tightens. “Excuse me?”
McCoy shows his palm in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture, which Jim heeds, letting it drop. The doctor settles for running his eyes lazily across those lips again. He’s trying to remember the smell. “You and me, kid, are a pair of possessive, sentimental old fools.”
Kirk’s tongue darts out to wet the corners of his lips as his eyes narrow at McCoy, and McCoy feels his torso lean towards those lips, drawn in without his permission.
Then revelation flashes in the captain’s ridiculously blue eyes, and Jim takes a sudden step back. “That Alfvén wave.”
McCoy has to try not to smile again. Not for nothing, but the kid is a genius. He leans a hip against the bedpost and crosses his arms unhurriedly. “Yes.”
“It did something.”
“You could say that, yes.”
“I knew you were acting strange-stranger, at least-but I didn’t-“ He stops short. “This room.”
McCoy nods slowly, carefully. “Yes.”
“You… saw.”
“Yes.”
“You can see inside my fucking mind?”
“Could. It’s gone now, faded once I got clocked on the head during the bombing.”
“Oh, you could see inside my fucking mind, so that makes it okay. That’s a huge invasion of privacy, Bones!”
“Well, now, don’t get all self-righteous on me, Jim. It’s not like I could turn it off, or I damned well would’ve. You think I wanted to see your addle-brained fantasies about Uhura’s cleavage, or, saints preserve us, Scotty’s truly deplorable ideas about hamsters?”
Some of Jim’s anger puffs out at the mention of the Lieutenant. “Hey, you’ve got to admit she’s-Wait. Hamsters?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Except I kinda do.”
McCoy chuckles and shakes his head. Then he sobers, and doesn’t let himself think too long before throwing down another card. “It was damn awful at first. Everything was coming at me and I didn’t know who was who in my head and I thought maybe I was going around the bend. Then I figured out how to tune out everybody.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It took a shitload of effort, but I managed it-on everybody but you. For some damn reason, kid, you were inside my head like a goddamn tape worm.”
Jim grimaces. “Thanks for the image.”
“A horny tape worm.”
“Even better.” He looks at McCoy, the skin around his mouth tight, and they both know it’s not about the metaphor. “You should have told me, Bones.”
McCoy levels his gaze at him. “Back atcha, kiddo.”
Jim’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a minute. “Oh, Christ,” he finally manages to spit out, realizing the full extent of what this means. “You’ve seen everything, then, haven’t you? The away mission- and the gym- and the- everything.” McCoy nods. Jim swallows. “Bones, I-“
McCoy shakes his head once, effectively cutting off whatever Jim was going to say. “So will you stay the night with me?”
Jim doesn’t move, and McCoy nearly twitches in the tense silence that descends. “It would change some things,” the captain finally says, his voice the littlest bit rougher than normal.
“Understatement of the year,” McCoy says wryly. Then he sobers, and for the first time, he feels a little sick with the idea that it could all go back to the way it was before. He’s studying Kirk’s face but coming up with nothing reassuring, or even damning. Just… hard bemusement. “You can say no, Jim. You can go on being the infamous Jim Kirk, and I’d understand. Being with me isn’t easy.” He grimaces, but the bitterness is no longer sharp. “I’m told it’s impossible, in fact.”
“Impossible isn’t in my vocabulary,” Kirk says almost absently. His tongue slicks across his lips again-a habit McCoy’s never taken much notice of before, but heavens above, he will now-and it’s clear he’s deep in the machinations of that obnoxious, brilliant mind of his.
“One of the reasons I love you,” McCoy murmurs without thinking.
Kirk’s sharp intake of breath isn’t missed by McCoy as his gaze snaps up to meet the doctor’s. McCoy himself can’t hardly believe he just said it. But he has, so, hell, might as well plunge merrily onward, right?
Right. Well. He uncrosses his arms, scratches at his temple. Finally, he looks up at Jim and just says it. “You’re ridiculous, and brash, and too pretty for your own good, and cocky, and cocksure, and pretty much a cockslut, pardon my language, and a genius, and a damn fine captain, and if you give head half as well as you think you do, then I would be a damn fool to pass you up.”
It hadn’t been so hard, once he’d gotten started, but Jim’s eyes are still totally unreadable. “I haven’t made an offer,” he finally says.
“Well…true.” The doctor has to concede the point.
“And you are a damn fool.”
He raises his eyes to the heavens. “I’m fully aware of that, thank you.” He glances at Jim, then crosses his arms again, one hand absently at his mouth. The kid’s made a decision, that much he can tell, but other than that….
Suddenly he kind of wants the damn curse back, just for a minute. Just to know if he’s going to have to go downstairs and admit defeat to his buddy Jarod by asking for another room.
No, to hell with that, he decides grumpily. He’ll make Jim do the asking, and the paying, the oversexed, backpedaling little shit-
-then he realizes that same little shit has just pressed him solidly back against the bedpost and pressed a determined kiss onto his lips.
Well.
That answers that.
McCoy smiles against Kirk’s mouth and breaks the kiss, a move of which Kirk clearly doesn’t approve because his hands scrabble along the doctor’s arms, shoulders, neck and he presses their bodies together insistently. McCoy can’t not ask, though. “Is this what you midwesterners call an offer?” His eyes are probably twinkling like a damn schoolboy’s, but he doesn’t care. “I just need to make sure, being as old-fashioned as-“
Jim grabs his face in his hands and kisses him so thoroughly that he forgets the question. His tongue does this thing where it swoops in and stakes a claim and then slides deliciously with McCoy’s, and it’s damn near dizzying. Kid has certainly earned his reputation, if this is any indication.
And now he’s mine.
That idea-well, and probably the arguably magnificent kissing skill being displayed-makes his body temperature soar and his skin start to tingle, and, thank God, his cock is very definitely becoming interested in the goings on. And his last worry-that things won’t work properly because, well, Kirk is a man-falls away.
Somewhere in the cool doctor-y recesses of his mind, he’s curious to admit the ways in which it’s different, though. He likes how Jim’s body lines up with his, as they’re about the same height, yet wiry-Jim still seems... delicate, small, like something he should protect. Kirk’s clean-shaven at the moment, but there’s still something very masculine about the way he feels, his jaw and his chin and his cupid’s bow and the tip of his nose, and the hands on McCoy’s skin are definitely those of a man.
But the lips…
God damn, those lips could make angels sin. McCoy’s making plans to set up a shrine to their unholy powers when he feels Jim try to pull away. He stifles a groan. “No, not yet. Just…” He pulls him back in and licks at those lips, especially the corners, in a teasing imitation, and he can feel Kirk’s smile.
“Jesus, Bones,” he says, sucking in a breath. “Yes, it’s a fucking offer. One that you’ve already said you’d accept. Now shut the hell up.”
“Aye aye,” McCoy says with a mockingly raised eyebrow, and finds himself pushed down on the bed for his sass.
Jim clambers on top of him and presses their bodies together again, stem to stern. McCoy groans when their cocks practically sizzle upon contact, even through their clothes, and threads his fingers through Jim’s hair without conscious thought, kissing him for all he’s worth. The captain’s mouth is hard on his, tongue strong and explorative and hot as hell, and he feels it all the way to his damn toes.
Then he feels Jim’s hand fumbling with his relic of a belt buckle (something McCoy wears with his civvies because it was a present from his mother, and not because it fits a stereotype, damn it), then impatiently pulling at his pants, and, when both tactics are unsuccessful, palming him hard through the fabric.
A shock of pleasure runs through him, yes, but something about it, something about the franticness of the movements, has McCoy putting his hand over Jim’s. “Easy, kid, we have all night.”
Kirk stills, then glances up at McCoy. His brows are drawn together just the littlest bit in that way nobody but McCoy ever notices, and his eyes are bright, piercing.
McCoy puts his thumb and forefinger on Jim’s chin and kisses him gently, dabbing his tongue along that beautiful bottom lip once because he can’t help himself. “We have longer than all night,” he murmurs. “We have a month of Sundays.”
Something sort of expels from Jim with the breath he lets out, and he’s no longer clinging to McCoy, he’s sinuously surrounding him, like a housecat or a creeper vine. McCoy shakes his head at the image, because Jim isn’t so static as a vine or disdainful as a cat. He’s lapping at McCoy like a puppy, really, getting his saliva everywhere and not giving a damn. Just happy to be there in the first place.
And McCoy is so totally, utterly all right with it.
“That’s a damn good thing,” Jim says as he slides his hands under McCoy’s shirt, slowly running his fingers over the smooth planes of abdominal muscles he finds there. He kisses the doctor once more, teasingly, sliding his tongue into his mouth then out again before McCoy has a chance to reciprocate. “Because I have enough ideas to last us that long. And then some.”
“Of course you do.” He tugs on Jim’s hair and forces a thorough kiss on him. He touches what he can reach, feeling the strong cords of shoulder muscles and the smooth line of neck and wanting to do more, to study every sinew and every bone and every fiber of this frustrating, amazing, fucking arousing man.
Then as Jim tugs his shirt off and begins exploring his chest with his tongue, setting off lightning bolts all along his skin, McCoy’s focus gets re-directed to taking in enough oxygen to support all his systems. Patience. Right. His hands settle for clutching at Kirk’s hair, fingers flexing, learning the contours of his scalp.
“Yeah.” Jim licks at a nipple and McCoy nearly jumps out of his skin. No one’s tried that before, which is unfortunate because it feels damn amazing. Makes him wonder how long he’ll last under Jim’s ministrations, and that’s not a question he’s had to ask in a long time. “I’ve been wanting to do loads of inappropriate things, things unbecoming of a Captain, to your body for about, oh, forever.”
The corner of McCoy’s mouth twitches. “And if you think they’re inappropriate, I can only imagine-Jesus-!” His sentence and train of thought end abruptly on a gasp as Jim’s mouth finds his bellybutton. He looks down to see a pink tongue darting in and out and around, and Jim’s wicked smile, and if he wasn’t hard before, he damn well is now. From his own goddamn bellybutton. Will wonders never cease.
“At first it was because you threw up on me,” the captain continues against the doctor’s skin, punctuating his speech with lazy swoops of his tongue right below McCoy’s external oblique muscles. “I figured anybody with enough chutzpah-not to mention crazy-to join Starfleet while being afraid of flying would be a wild ride in the sack.”
“Mostly a lot of crazy. And, as I’m sure you noticed-“ He has to stop to stifle a groan, and almost succeeds. “-a lot of liquid courage.”
The tongue makes its way down from his bellybutton, following the happy trail to the belt buckle. McCoy grits his teeth and tries not to tighten his fist in Jim’s hair. “Then it was because you were smart as hell. Best doctor in the Academy, balls out. And smart and talented? Sex on a stick. Add in a little of the ‘ex-wife broke me so I drink like a beast’ and God, I made good use of the fact that ‘bones’ is something you can say during sex and only look mildly crazy, not like a total douchebag.”
Over the buzz this revelation causes in his mind, McCoy hears a clink and realizes that his belt buckle has just hit the floor. Before he can make a word of protest-or, hell, approval-Jim is up and kissing him again, and McCoy kisses him back, not even caring if he seems overly enthusiastic, because he has to give credit where credit is due and goddamn but this kid is good.
Jim breaks the kiss to suck a path down McCoy’s jaw. McCoy fights the urge to tilt his head up, and then decides to hell with it and lets it happen. He hears an encouraging noise come out of his throat, and lets that happen too. “And then the Enterprise.” The captain’s hands make leisurely work of the doctor’s belt and zipper before stroking their way underneath the fabric. Encouraging noises turn to outright grunts. “Shit went down, and although I was miffed at you for a little while for the whole ‘letting Spock kick my ass - twice’ thing, I got over it. You’d gotten me on the boat, after all, at huge risk to yourself. And Spock eventually told me what you’d said to him about it.”
McCoy feels himself flushing, and it’s not just from the fingers carefully mapping out his hipbones. “Did he preface it with, ‘And then the doctor used a mildly inappropriate metaphor’?” he gruffs.
Kirk laughs, then moves up to kiss McCoy again, like he just can’t help himself. “How did you guess?” They both let out rough sounds as their bodies align with Jim settled slightly in the cradle of McCoy’s hips. Kirk has a wicked grin on his face. “But it just made me want to do even more unbecoming things to your body.”
“Well, thank God for that,” McCoy grumbles. He’d never thought talk all that arousing, but he’s hard as sin, his patience is about run through, and Jim has far too many clothes on. If he hears the kid say ‘unbecoming’ one more time, he cannot be held responsible for his actions.
He casually rucks a knee up and around Jim’s hip and flips them over without so much as a how d’you do, so they’re on the other side of the bed and he’s settled on top of a startled Jim, his thighs straddling the captain’s lightly.
Jim stares at him for a moment, his pupils dilated and his breath coming quickly through a mouth gone a little slack. Then his tongue reaches out to touch his upper lip, and McCoy is goddamn done for. He growls, actually growls, and kisses Jim so hard it almost hurts. Neither of them care. It’s clacking, sloppy kisses that tear through them both, leave them gasping apart, then have them coming back for more.
His breath bounces back at him hotly as he circles the shell of Jim’s ear with his tongue, and when he bites down on the cord in his neck, Jim lets out a groan and it’s the sexiest damn thing McCoy’s ever heard. “Clothes, now,” he rasps into Jim’s shoulder, and the captain grunts his agreement.
Their hands alternately fight with each other and work as a team, first stripping Jim of his shirt then making quick work of everyone’s pants and shoes and socks and underthings. McCoy has never before considered men’s apparel to be such an annoyance, especially when compared to women’s, but right now he hates every bit of it with a passion.
Finally, it’s all off and there’s an excess of riches in front of him and he doesn’t know where to start. Jim makes the decision for him, yanking him down by the back of the neck to kiss him while his other hand goes straight to McCoy’s cock. The doctor gasps into his mouth. “God, Jim,” he rasps, barely aware of what he’s saying because Jim’s hand is working his cock with such aplomb that his brain starts to spin.
Kirk grins. “I’m not even going to comment on the redundancy of that statement.”
McCoy groans and kisses him to shut him up, or at least tries to before Jim’s hand becomes truly insistent, stroking him up and down at an irrefutable speed. Then his mouth sort of falls away to settle at Jim’s neck, occupied with the concept of breathing out and then in again, absently mouthing wet kisses along the heated skin.
“I know we’ve got all night,” the captain says quietly, his voice liquid smoke in McCoy’s ear, “but I’ve been waiting way too fucking long to see this.”
McCoy can’t protest, doesn’t want to, as heat spreads over all of his extremities and he feels his balls tighten in anticipation. He clutches at Jim instead, making pathetic noises and pushing himself willingly into that tight fist.
As the lights explode behind his eyelids, he hears Jim’s breath hitch.
“Jesus, Bones.” McCoy chuckles, or at least thinks of chuckling. He’s not sure if he manages, and he really doesn’t give a damn. He has just enough energy left to flip over before sinking backwards into the mattress, feeling his spine relax and his head fall back into the overly sumptuous hotel pillows. Jim’s at his side, kissing him, gently, and he reaches up with one hand to cup the captain’s cheek while kissing him back as best he can.
After a few minutes, his head clears a little bit. He realizes that he’s sprawled out on the bed in a very undignified way, his thighs relaxed with Jim lying in between them. Jim’s cock is still quite hard… which he can tell because it’s nudging against McCoy’s perineum.
McCoy’s whole body tenses up at that realization; he can’t help it. But Jim knows. “Relax. I’m not that much of a douche.” He kisses the corner of McCoy’s mouth. “I just want to- Here, let me show you.”
He gently pushes McCoy’s thighs together, then straddles them. His hand glides through the semen on McCoy’s stomach, deliberately coating his fingers; McCoy’s eyebrow twitches at the sight, and he’s not sure if it’s because it seems disgusting or because it seems arousing. Both, probably.
But as Jim uses the liquid to slick up first his beautifully aroused cock (because hey, McCoy’s a doctor, he firmly appreciates the human body, and this is a damn fine specimen), then McCoy’s innermost thighs, ‘disgusting’ flies right the hell out the window. He’s pretty sure he’s caught on to Jim’s clever-albeit slightly depraved-idea, and at the very least, he’s downright curious to see if it will work.
Jim seems confident enough, of course, as he leans forward to kiss McCoy. “Always wanted to do this,” he says blithely as he presses McCoy’s thighs together more firmly and pushes his cock into the crease at their apex.
So far, so good. It’s a slick slide in and out, and the look on Jim’s face is quite rewarding in and of itself. “Why don’t I have trouble believing that?” McCoy says, enjoying how Jim’s cock rubs just right along his perineum and the underside of his balls. “Although it wasn’t in any of the, uh, imaginings I got to witness.”
Jim laughs, albeit a little breathlessly, and kisses him again. “I just hadn’t come to it in my rotation yet.” His eyes drift shut as he slides his cock in and out of the makeshift hole, slowly, clearly enjoying himself. “Christ that feels nice.”
McCoy can’t help the smile that settles on his face. He brings his hands up to touch Jim’s cheek, then kisses him, this time forcing his hand and taking charge of the kiss. His tongue explores Jim’s mouth methodically, sharing air as Jim starts climbing to the peak. He tastes like… well, like he always figured he himself tastes. A little like garlic, a little like toothpaste, and a little like every day life. The warmth that spreads through McCoy’s chest is almost overwhelming.
“It started for me when you came in with those scratches,” he says roughly, softly. His hands slide down Jim’s neck and back as he talks, touching as many of the working muscles as they can reach before moving around to the front and doing their level best to find places on his chest that make Jim grunt or speed up or twitch in that good way. “I told you to think about sex, and then I could tell that you were thinking about sex with a man, and I-“ He stops. In the name of research, he gives a light pinch to Jim’s right nipple, and is rewarded with a shudder and a curse.
“You what?” Jim murmurs.
McCoy kisses his top lip once. “I was jealous as hell.”
Jim groans and reaches for another kiss, sloppy now as he approaches climax. “More,” he gasps. “Please, Bones.”
McCoy shifts his weight the littlest bit so the angle is different, starts to move his hips in time with Jim’s thrusts, and the captain groans again. “Yes, fuck, you’re-fuck.” He’s clutching at McCoy like the doctor’s his anchor, and his skin is flushed as his breathing grows more labored.
“I watched all your fantasies of people other than me,” McCoy says, his voice barely more than a rumble, “and couldn’t think about anything but how much it should’ve been me.” He kisses Jim’s neck. “Should’ve been me going down on you in your ready-room.” Switches sides, kisses more neck. Jim whimpers. “Me you were fucking on that away mission.”
“You,” Jim grunts. “Yes, Bones- Ah-“
And Bones feels Kirk’s orgasm nearly like it’s his own. They’re so close to each other, skin against skin, that their sweat and semen are inseparable. As someone who trades in bodily fluids for a living, that detail makes it all so very, very real.
He ponders this while Jim comes down, stroking that almost-blonde hair as it lies next to his cheek. He thinks again that he should feel as though he’s cleared a hurdle, climbed a mountain, overcome an adversity. Done something extraordinary.
Really, he just feels like he’s finally come home at the end of a long, hard day.
---
They fell asleep for a while, McCoy discovers when he scratches his tummy and feels the lovely crust of old semen. Sex knocks men out, it’s true, so he’s not surprised; he’s just surprised he didn’t insist they clean up first. But this is par for the new course, he has to admit. Things are going to be different with Jim, and that’s just how it goes. Stubbornly adhering to old mores didn’t work the first time, and this time- Well, this time, he has more to lose and is far less willing to lose it.
However, he really, really needs to piss at the moment, so he has to break the tranquil scene anyway.
Jim makes this disgustingly adorable snuffling sound when McCoy moves away from his side, and he pauses to drop a kiss on the kid’s forehead.
He realizes what he’s done after he’s done it, and can’t quite believe he’s fallen back into this pattern without even really ascertaining if it’s what Jim wants. He finds himself stuck there on the edge of bed, staring at Jim, his head kind of buzzing at him. His gut and his brain are at high noon, and he wants to put a hand over his face so he doesn’t have to watch-
Then the blue eyes blink open and an arm reaches out for him, hovering vaguely above the bed sheet while making grabby-hand motions. “Bones?”
“Go back to sleep, kid,” McCoy says quietly. Then he leans forward and kisses him. Sleepy breath and all. The showdown, it seems, was over even before it began. “I’ll be right back-” But Jim’s eyes are already closed again, the echo of a satisfied smile on his face.
When McCoy slips back into bed, he’s brought a damp washcloth with him. He runs it over Jim’s soiled skin in practiced motions, watching the physical evidence disappear to leave only the invisible mark McCoy knows is now stamped on both their bodies.
He can tell the second Jim’s eyes open, but doesn’t look up. Instead, he takes the opportunity to thoroughly examine this most precious of torsos. Precious to Starfleet, to Winona Kirk, to a crew full of people who otherwise wouldn’t be alive several times over, and now, as always but for the first time, to one grumpy country doctor.
“That kinda tickles,” Jim murmurs.
“Liar.” McCoy can see Jim’s cock thickening and reddening. “And I see some pretty damning evidence.”
“Yeah, well. Wanna make something of it?”
McCoy meets his eyes with a snort, ready to say hell no, but then he sees that Jim actually expects absolutely nothing from him. And the door in his head springs open and he can’t even fathom backing down from the challenge. He thinks he might even enjoy it.
Jim must be able to see the change in his face, because suddenly his eyes get impossibly brighter, and bluer, and his damn tongue darts out again to wet his damn lips.
McCoy swallows, looks from that mouth to that cock, and licks his own lips.
“You don’t have to,” Jim says quietly, giving him an out. “I know it’s-“ And then it sounds something like ‘unghgn’ but McCoy can’t really tell over the roaring in his own head. I can’t believe I’m doing this and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to do this are doing a cha-cha in his cerebral cortex and it’s kicking up quite a racket.
Jim tastes like salt, and tang, and that indescribable skin taste, and it’s not unpleasant at all. He does indeed like the feeling of power that comes with feeling a cock swell against his tongue. He doesn’t even really have to move yet; Jim’s breathing is shaky from just the heat and wetness of McCoy’s mouth.
After a minute of that fun torture, though, he gets curious and moves. Just his tongue, up around the sides. Researching. Jim makes an encouraging noise, and that settles that. More noises like that need to happen.
McCoy is either naturally good at it, or medical training comes in handy in very unexpected ways, or Jim is just easy, because he manages to make them happen a lot, with his tongue and his lips and the back of his throat and his hand on and under Jim’s balls. He can tell Jim is having to refrain from thrusting into his mouth, and is impressed to find that the whole thing is pretty damn arousing. He absently palms his own growing erection, and looks up when Jim mutters his nickname. “Fuck that. Come here.”
Then his hands are on McCoy’s upper arms, dragging him up to his lips for a desperate kiss. Their tongues are learning their way around each other slowly, the dance getting more intricate and more effective, and McCoy feels his cock begin to throb in earnest.
He can’t help breaking the kiss with a groan when he feels the kid’s hand wrap around both their cocks at once. “Ah- Jim-“ He looks down, his forehead against the captain’s, watching the fascinating movement of Jim’s hand on both of them, watching the skin fold and unfold and the slickness of both saliva and seminal fluid appear then disappear then appear again.
Then it feels too damn good and he can’t watch anymore. He settles for holding Jim as best he can, murmuring nonsense until they’re both panting and he has to hand it to Jim, because it can’t just be luck that they’re both coming at the same time, and coming hard.
“Goddamn, kid,” he says once he has his breath at least a little back.
Jim shoots him a shit-eating grin, of course, although McCoy can see the truth in his dilated pupils and flushed skin. “Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.” He kisses the doctor, and it’s so gentle it makes McCoy’s gut turn over. “I knew it would be like this. And I was right.”
“Yeah, yeah.” McCoy steals another kiss, because he can. “Doesn’t help with the mess, though.”
Jim’s nose wrinkles a little. “True. But I think we still have that-“ He rustles around in the bed sheets for a moment, then pulls out the crumpled washcloth triumphantly. “Yup. Tada!”
McCoy just shakes his head, his lips twitching. “That’s disgusting.” He snatches it out of Jim’s hand and goes to get a new one.
When he comes back, Jim promptly takes it from him. “My turn.” McCoy hesitates, then shrugs and lies back on the pillows.
Jim swipes the fabric over himself efficiently, just enough to get the job done, then settles on his side nudged right up against McCoy, half propped up on McCoy’s body and half propped up on his other hand, and starts in on what turns out to be the most thorough wash-up job McCoy’s ever undergone. It’s not arousing, and it’s not meant to be. But by the time it’s done, and Jim’s lapsed into smoothing circles into McCoy’s skin, McCoy’s chest hurts. In a powerful good way.
His hand finds the back of Jim’s neck, fingers running through the fine hairs there. Jim makes a hum of appreciation and relaxes fully into McCoy’s side. McCoy knows it’s time. “So.”
“So.” Jim’s voice is light, but McCoy can tell he knows it’s time, too.
“You have no real plans for your leave. Don’t try and argue with me, I can tell. You’ve discovered the natural McCoy aptitude for… intimate relations. You’ve said before that you wanted to see the farm. Joanna has been positively dying to meet you ever since you made the ‘Top 10 Hotties of Starfleet’ list in that awful teenybopper rag all her friends are reading these days.” He pauses. Clears his throat. “My cousin’s a justice of the peace in the town next door.”
Jim snerks. “You southerners and your cousins.”
McCoy rolls his eyes and cuffs Jim lightly on the back of the head. “Damn stereotypes never die, do they?”
“Maybe I should start calling you ‘Bubba.’” Jim looks up at him with a dastardly twinkle in his eye.
McCoy shifts so that Jim’s mostly on top of him, held fast by the doctor’s firm grip. “If you even so much as think that ever again, so help me God, you will never see the end of the hyposprays I will find to use on you. And if you think I’m putting them in a convenient place like your neck, think again.” He reaches down and pinches the soft skin where Jim’s thigh meets his ass, to punctuate his point, and Jim lets out a rather undignified yelp.
“Hey! That’s a fine specimen of human buttock you are desecrating!”
McCoy’s lips twitch. “Yes, well…” He pinches the other one. Jim flings out a hand, finds one of the pillows they’re not currently occupying, and pelts McCoy square in the face with it.
McCoy grabs his wrist before he can repeat the action, and narrows his eyes at him. “Oh, it’s on.” And he practically tosses the captain across the bed before grabbing a pillow of his own.
McCoy is bigger across the shoulders but Jim is a wiry one, and knows how to use his magnificent body to his advantage, distracting the hell out of McCoy again and again until the doctor finally decides to go down and dirty, pinning the captain down in order to tickle him into compliance.
“Oh my god I give up! I give up!” Jim can barely breathe through his laughter. McCoy stops tickling but keeps him pinned, to make sure he’s not crying wolf. Eventually, he’s not, and they flop into a pile of arms and legs and torsos, two hands laced together on McCoy’s stomach.
“That was so fucking girly, dude.”
McCoy snorts. “Yeah, well, I have a pre-teen daughter. What do you want from me? Besides, you’re kinda pretty.” He leers at Jim, who laughs a real laugh, throwing his head back against the pillows and showing a lot of teeth. McCoy’s chest pingpingpings and he tightens his grip on the captain’s hand. There’s a lazy, hazy silence for a moment, then-
“I want to, Bones. Don’t think otherwise. But it might be a stupid decision, regardless.” Jim’s voice is suddenly too quiet, and way too mature, and McCoy knows he’s not talking about sex, or the ship, or whether they should actually go downstairs for breakfast in the morning.
“Yeah. So?”
“I mean, okay, so I imagine that we could work well together in that capacity. I know we work well in other capacities, now including this one. I want you with me, and I know that for you that means certain things, none of which are beyond what I find-a little to my surprise-I’m willing to do. But sometimes shit happens, and you can’t stop it.”
McCoy doesn’t need the damn curse to be able to see the words USS KELVIN flashing across Kirk’s mind, or the quiet fear lurking just behind. “Will you shut up?” he says gruffly. “I’ve been married once, I know the risks involved. And I’ve been your friend and officer for long enough to know the risks there, too. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your suddenly cautious ass talk me out of doing this properly, seeing as you just spent a week talking me into it.”
“Hey! There was no talking involved!” Jim pauses, suddenly bemused. “That’s a mad skill, actually. I blew your mind and didn’t even know I was doing it. I am truly amazing.”
McCoy groans and has Jim underneath him in two seconds flat. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
“Yes,” Kirk manages between kisses, slightly ridiculous toothy kisses because now neither of them can stop grinning like the fools they are, “but I always assume no means yes with you.”
“Oh, now, isn’t that nice.” He bites a path down Kirk’s neck to the place where Jim’s neck meets his shoulder, making the cord stand out in an invitation. He accepts gladly, ignoring how Jim’s arms push against him as the captain attempts to get control of the situation. McCoy’s mouth twitches against salty skin. “Is that the line that gets all the ladies?”
“I’ll have you know that I am perfectly willing to accept when a woman says no.” Jim then manages, through some miracle, to heave McCoy a little bit off of him and lever himself halfway up.
Bones just shoves him back down again, though, settling himself in the cradle of the captain’s hips so he can use his bodyweight to pin him there. “Yeah, maybe. The sixth or seventh time.”
Jim tries to use his thighs for maneuvering. It almost works, but mostly provides a lot of really super friction they pretend to not enjoy. McCoy is nearly hard again-which would have him preening if he was that sort of man-and he can tell Jim’s there, too. “Well, in polite society, women are taught that they should always say no, so I find that it takes some-“
They both freeze as McCoy’s cock bumps firmly against Jim’s entrance.
“…gentle persuasion,” Jim finishes softly. Surprise passes over his face for about point-two seconds, then he just regards McCoy with an eyebrow cocked, looking as if he’s trying to figure what’s going on in the doctor’s mind.
Trouble is, the doctor doesn’t even know.
That makes the decision easier for Jim, apparently. “Do it.”
McCoy’s eyebrows snap together. “I-“ He closes his mouth, tries to think. “You can’t be serious.”
Jim’s strong thighs wrap around McCoy’s hips in an outright sinful manner, and McCoy stiffens with a groan. “I can’t?” He puts his hand on the back of McCoy’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss, his tongue seeking out the doctor’s and the accompanying shudder running through both of them. “I trust you.” Then he grins that wicked grin. “And I know you were a Boy Scout.”
McCoy blinks for a minute, then tilts his head back as a full-throated laugh overtakes him. “Why, you little-“ He kisses Jim hard. “Smartass.” He shifts up to his knees and scratches his chin. “Alright. I feel like I should make you sign a waiver, but-“
“Just shut the hell up and go get the stuff.”
“Fine, you-you-whippersnapper.” He can’t believe it, but he thinks he actually grins as he slides off the bed to retrieve the necessary accoutrement from his luggage. Damn kid is right, though; he had thought of it. At the last minute. And called himself stupid for packing it. But-it never hurt to be prepared, damn it. You just never knew.
“I’ll try not to say ‘turn your head and cough’ at any point,” he drawls as he shifts back onto the bed and settles in between Jim’s thighs. The captain’s completely laid out, his mouth a little red and his cheeks a little flushed, and McCoy has to admit that it’s a damn beautiful sight.
“You’d better not, you bastard. I am still your superior offi- Oh.“
McCoy feels not a little triumphant as he pulls his slick finger a little ways out before working it back in gently. “What was that?” It’s an interesting sensation, to be pressing past first the outer ring of voluntary muscle, which Jim has managed to relax quite well, then the inner ring, which follows its cue and relaxes as well, much to McCoy’s relief. He’s in no way interested in leaving that sort of mark today.
“Fuck if I can remember.” Jim’s voice is languid as his head falls back on the pillows. Clearly, he’s going to enjoy this. McCoy unhurriedly adds another finger, which elicits a grunt from the kid. “’s good.”
“Yeah, it is,” McCoy murmurs. Jim’s gorgeous, nobody’s going to argue against that, but to see him like this is just mind-blowing. McCoy’s never going to come back down, swear to God.
He leans in to kiss him, and Jim starts to move against his hand, just little experimental pushes. Of course, too, he keeps talking. Kid can run his mouth any fool time, apparently. “Man,” he murmurs into McCoy’s lips, “I am one lucky son of a bitch.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me how, even if I don’t want to hear about it,” McCoy says wryly, his roughened voice belying his true opinion on the matter.
“Of course.” He flashes a smile, touches McCoy’s mouth with one hand briefly. “After a million years wandering around, enjoying the hell out of the imperfections of human nature and knowing no one will ever fit well with me, I end up waking up every morning with a-” He interrupts himself with a hum of approval as McCoy tries a bit of a new angle. “With a hard-on for a doctor.”
He searches out McCoy’s mouth for a light, wet kiss. “And not just any doctor. A grumpy old country doctor with an ex-wife and a kid, for Christ’s sake. I don’t even carry that much baggage with me when I go on shore leave. Yukyuk.”
“You’re cracking jokes right now? Really? Do you realize where my fingers are?”
Jim tilts his pelvis with a raised eyebrow. “Yes. Because it turns out my dick steered me well, despite the astronomical improbability. To someone who can stitch me up when something evil befalls me, as it is want to do, and to someone with-“ His breath hitches as the doctor crooks his fingers a certain direction; triumph warms McCoy’s chest. “Dear God, Bones, you have the most magnificent hands that have ever walked this earth.” He chuckles hoarsely “…despite the awkwardness of that imagery.”
The other corner of his mouth turning up, McCoy adds another finger to prove Jim’s point. Jim gasps, then tucks his head against McCoy’s shoulder. “And somehow,” he feels the captain mumble into his skin, “you are the someone that fits.”
McCoy knows, he knows that his heart hasn’t actually stopped. “Goddamit, Jim.”
He stills, trying to regain his composure. Then he removes his fingers and uses them elsewhere. The thighs around him flex in anticipation, and he looks up. Those blue eyes lock onto his, and all he sees is-Well-
“Please, Bones.”
He’s still for a moment longer, then moves and moves until he’s just inside Jim and oh sweet heavens he almost can’t handle even that much. He grits his teeth, plants his hands on either side of Jim’s face, and leans down till he can feel Jim’s breath on his skin. He’s going to get this out if it kills him. “I love you too, you bastard.”
Jim’s legs tighten impossibly around McCoy’s torso, and his arms slide around his neck to kiss the hell out of him. “I know,” he murmurs into McCoy’s lips. “Now for the love of God, fuck me.”
McCoy growls. “With pleasure.” He thrusts forward into the tightness, trying to start slowly but failing spectacularly. It’s just like in Jim’s fantasy, with the sweat and the smells and the look of absolute pleasure on Jim’s face-Except ten hundred thousand times better. For his soul, yes, but goddamn, for his cock it’s just magnificent. He’s going to embarrass himself here in a couple seconds.
The thought makes him grimace. He slows, kisses at Jim’s jaw, tries to steady his breathing. Jim’s cock waves at him, providing a welcome distraction, and he squints down at it. Jim’s fist is on it, and McCoy can’t stand how hot that is.
To hell with it. He puts his hand with Jim’s and increases the friction. Jim groans appreciatively, thrusting into their combined grips, and Bones can’t stop himself from thrusting into Jim harder in turn.
As if he can tell, which, hell, he probably can, Jim’s voice slides into his ear. “It’s okay, Bones. I’m with you.” And as McCoy comes, way too quickly, he hears Jim’s accompanying grunt, and he thinks, alright, now he can die a happy man.
But for the first time in a long time, he really, really doesn’t want to, just yet.
---
“Not gonna lie, I might get off on thinking of you touching patients with these hands.” He smirks. “Do a lot of prostate exams, Doctor?”
“You know the answer to that, Captain,” McCoy answers with an eyebrow quirked. They’re finally under the blankets, cleaned up and tucked up, half curled up in each other and half sprawled on top of each other. It should be uncomfortable. It’s not.
For some reason, Jim is examining McCoy’s hands, utterly fascinated. The doctor is a little mystified. “It’s not like you’ve never seen them before, Jim.”
“I know, I know. But they-they’re magnificent, no joke. These fingers-“ He rubs one of them, gently, then two of them, and McCoy has to fight the urge to curl up against him and purr. “They save lives. They deliver lives. They take lives, if they have to.” His grip tightens momentarily. “They’ve saved my ass any number of times, you know? And yet, they’ve been inside of me. You gotta admit, that’s kind of cool.”
McCoy shakes his head into the pillow, suppressing a smile even though Jim’s not watching. “Well, it’s not brain surgery, but there are worse endeavors they could be undertaking.” He knows Jim smiles at that, he can just tell.
He can feel when the kid sobers, too. His hand keeps rubbing McCoy’s, working its way to his palm, but it’s different somehow. “What?” he says gruffly.
“That might happen, you know. There are some things I can’t change.”
McCoy freezes. “Jim… What… ? I thought you-”
“No, I don’t mean-“ He darts his tongue over his lips then turns on the pillow to face McCoy. “I love you, you know? But my brain is my brain, and I can’t help but-”
The breath whooshes out of McCoy on a choked laugh, cutting off Jim mid-sentence. The kid’s eyebrows pull together, and McCoy can’t help but lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth. Then the other corner. He almost kisses the tip of his nose, but thinks better of it at the last second. He’s already been called girly once today.
He clears his throat, tries to man up. “You think I’ll be offended by you daydreaming about-Let’s see, what’s one of your charming expressions? Coming all over Uhura’s tits?”
Jim lets out a surprised noise. “Well… yes?”
“Boy, please. I’m not dumb. I know you. I’ve been inside your head, remember?”
“Among other things. Cha-ching.”
McCoy spreads his hand over Jim’s face and pushes. “Shut the hell up. I’m trying to say something you apparently need to hear.”
Jim bats his hand away, then captures it and curls them both under his chin. “Yes, sir.” His eyes don’t stop twinkling, but he does stop talking. For once.
“Point is, Jim Kirk likes sex. I know this, and I happen to like Jim Kirk just fine the way he is. My only requirement is that Jim Kirk have that sex with me and only me.”
“I already told you, I understand that, and it’ll be fine, I’m sure-”
McCoy grabs him by scruff of the neck and kisses him roughly. “You bet your bippy it will. And I don’t think you do understand. You think we’ve had a good run today? You ain’t seen nothing yet. Joanna being an only child was not for lack of trying.”
The worry lines that Jim would never admit to start to dissipate. “Yeah?”
“And as I think I’ve demonstrated sufficiently today-“ He kisses a light path down Jim’s jaw, which tilts towards him so very accommodatingly. “-you should count me in on just about anything you can think of.” Jim makes a noise of surprised approval, and McCoy smiles against his skin. “So long as I can fix anything that’s broken or torn afterwards,” he amends. “I’m still a doctor, after all.”
“Thank God for that,” Jim says, his voice slightly liquefied. Apparently satisfied with the conversation, he puts his head down and pushes into McCoy’s side, snuffling around until he’s found a spot he likes. So like a puppy, and proving himself to be a cuddler outside as well as inside his own head. McCoy’s mostly alright with it. Hell, who’s he kidding? He’s totally alright with it. It’s Jim. And the late hour is starting to press down on them in the form of post-coital exhaustion.
He can’t let the topic die quite yet, though. “Might I give one suggestion?”
“’course,” Jim yawns.
“Share.”
“What?” He’s confused enough to squinch open his eyes at the doctor.
McCoy turns in to Jim so his mouth is right next to his ear. “I want to hear about those impure thoughts of yours. Preferably while your legs are wrapped around me, but during dinner would be fine, too. Or meetings. Or on boring away missions. Or-” But Jim's kiss has cut him off. Just like he planned.
It’s that lazy kiss, McCoy recognizes with a flash. The one from the imagined frolic Jim’s mind set in this very room. And it’s just as brilliant as he’d expected it to be.
Once they’ve come up for air, Jim goes to settle back down but McCoy doesn’t follow. “C’mon, Bones,” he says cajolingly, “isn’t it time to sleep?”
McCoy raises an eyebrow, then exhales slowly. “Listen, kid. Every day, I have this list. Things I need to do, mostly, although there are always a few things I need to not do. And if I haven’t dealt with that list, I can’t sleep. And that’s just how I am.”
Jim looks at him for a moment, then his expression softens. “Fine. What is it today, then, that didn’t get done? Let’s see…” He mimes making a list and checking it twice. There’s a smirk on his face that McCoy doesn’t trust one bit. “Declare undying love to Jim Kirk. Check. Suck Jim Kirk’s cock. Check. Fuck the living daylights out of Jim Kirk. Checkity-check-check.”
“I still maintain you made the first move, you oversexed blowhole.”
“Fine, whatever.” He pulls McCoy’s chin so they make eye contact, and the doctor sees he’s totally serious. “So what the hell is it?”
“We should probably get up early to catch a good shuttle.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I’m not buying that.”
McCoy huffs. “It’s on the list.”
“Okay, but it would not keep you from sleeping. So: What is it?”
McCoy sighs, tries not to fidget. “Do we tell Jo tomorrow?”
Kirk doesn’t even think about it. “We’ll have to. Otherwise she’ll be kinda surprised when your justice-of-the-peace-cousin declares us legally bound for life.”
McCoy’s heart flops over in a hurry, and for a second he can’t remember what they were talking about in the first place. “You-“ He has to clear his throat. “You want her to be there?”
Jim’s eyebrows go up. “I want the fucking galaxy to be there. But I know you’d just grumble about how it’s nobody’s business but ours, so I figured I’d just ask for Jo and the bridge crew and maybe bat my eyelashes and you’d give in?”
He begins to do exactly that, but McCoy captures his lips in a kiss before it gets any more ridiculous. If that’s possible. “Yeah, sure, kid. I suppose I’ll let them come.” He winces. “I should invite Jocelyn and Mr Jocelyn, too. They invited me to their ridiculous cream puff of a wedding.” Everything had seemed cream-puff inspired, from her dress to the table decorations to the insipid music during the reception. A thorough nightmare.
“Oh, hell,” Jim grumbles. “All right.” Then he chuckles. “Jo’s going to have, like, half a dozen parents.”
“Two and two makes four, Jim, and for heaven’s sake, she’s almost a teenager. That’s probably not enough of a cavalry.” The thought brings him up short. He buries his face in his hands. “Sweet mother of mercy.”
“Hey, she’ll be fine. Jocelyn, as much as I hate to admit it, is a fine woman these days, and Jo’s your kid, so how bad can she turn out?”
The glare McCoy shoots at him would kill a lesser man, but it just bounces off Jim Kirk. The little shit is snuggling back down into McCoy’s side already. The doctor lets him settle, then thinks better of it. He’s not ready to sleep quite yet. “Should we go tell Jarod? I think he’ll be thoroughly disappointed he didn’t get to have a go with you.”
Kirk flings a hand up to smack McCoy on whatever bit he can reach. “Tomorrow, you smug bastard. Sleep now.”
“Now, Jim, don’t tell me the old man wore you out?” He prods Jim’s shoulder. “And here all I had left on my list was to tell you some of the other choice things I saw while I had the damn curse.” One blue eye opens to peer at him. “You know, Sulu is quite a flexible lad…”
Jim practically springs out of his supine position, rolling McCoy right over and pushing him into the mattress. “That was sneaky and underhanded, old man.” He kisses him thoroughly, lining up their bodies to start a rut of delicious friction, and McCoy feels pleasure shooting through him like a rocket. “But I’m awake now. So it’s time to start sharing.”
---
Day Ten
They don’t make it down to breakfast the next day. They do manage to catch a semi-early shuttle, though. And when they tell Joanna that afternoon, the first thing out of her mouth is, ‘Way to go, Dad! He’s totally just as hot as he was in the magazine!”
FIN
[Credit where credit is due: High Fidelity, Dr Seuss, ‘Hand Me Downs’, The X-Files episode 3x13 ‘Syzygy’ & movie Fight the Future, my BFF Brita, ‘Sunday Morning’, ZQMF, Two Men & a Motorcycle, Pirates of the Caribbean, When Harry Met Sally..., Isaiah 40:4 (‘Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain.’) as presented in Handel’s Messiah, some amazing smutty art, a half-dozen episodes of Sports Night, Dogma, Chris Pine’s personal tics, my job & the anatomy/physiology textbook it made me read, sex-lexis.com & catwalksalone’s sexual tactics (srsly, I’m-a start a fanclub), my mother’s acquired southern colloquialisms, Foxfire, that chick at Toys in Babeland all those years ago, and, of course, ontd_startrek.
Thanks where thanks are due (or: where the author proves that anything worth doing is a team effort): First off, thank you so much to coughandrealyncough(ETA j/k, she says it wasn't her.*eyebrow*) Anon for such a perfect prompt. (My favorite part was ‘And then sex.’ LOLOL.) Thank you to my unflappable betas, abigail89 and raphaellover, who were in it for the long haul and did brilliantly. Thank you to my f’list for putting up with this nonsense, especially a few: sunnyrea, who made me laugh until I cried when she christened it with the Alternate Titles The Little Fic THAT WOULD NOT QUIT and The Fic in Which McCoy Tried to Kill the Author, and helped me with SCIENCE despite my inability to press the right button in gmail, lord_colin for help with the personality quirks of our favorite country doctor (I know, there probably wasn’t enough avalanche, but I couldn’t resist the schmoop), lindmere for the mindblowing technobabble, eowyn42 for the perfect help with the title, and starsfell for supporting me & cheerleading me & betaing for me & being pure fucking awesome.
And most importantly, thank you to all of you! For reading! For writing! For being such an amazing, friendly, enthusiastic bunch of GQMFs! I welcome love, concrit, outright flames, corrections of typos, canon, and science (no joke! I can take it!), friend requests, seduction attempts, discussions about the status of homosexuality in the ‘verse (because boy, are there a lot of interpretations), and/or GQMF macros. <3 Peace OUT.]
ETA: The lovely prosperity2929 has been kind enough to make this story into a pdf for downloading pleasure, and for that I am full of thanks. <3<3<3
Day Eight
“So, Bones,” Jim asks jovially as he sits down next to him in the mess. “Going home to see Jo?”
“’Course,” McCoy replies, nudging his food with a fork while he contemplates his next sentence. “I was thinking of staying in San Francisco for the first night, though,” he says casually.
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
He clears his throat, but the words still come out excessively gravelly. “There’s a place I haven’t been since we were in the Academy, and I wanted to visit once before going back to the farm.”
“What, Ghirardelli’s?” Jim teases.
“Very clever, kid.” He shoots a glare at the captain. “No, just this bed & breakfast down by the water, twenty minutes or so from campus…” He waves his hand dismissively. “There’s a pub below it, the owner and I go way back, etc.”
“Oh, yeah, I know that place. I’ve never been able to-“ Jim grunts. ”I’ve never stayed there.” McCoy once again marvels at the kid’s imagination, then, because his mental picture had been pretty damn near spot on. Then Jim flashes a grin at McCoy, and that train of thought swiftly derails. “Mind if I tag along?”
McCoy almost smiles as Jim plays right into his hands. He can’t hear or see or smell any damn thing anymore, from anybody, but he doesn’t need it. He’s got Jim Kirk’s number, and it’s only a matter of time. He feels like rubbing his hands together like an old movie villain.
But he refrains, of course. “Suit yourself,” he replies drolly instead. “I can’t promise to be very exciting company.”
“Well, Bones, I’ve managed to put up with you so far, haven’t I? Plus, we all know I can easily leave your grumpy ass and find my own company.”
“A reassuring notion, thank you.”
“Hey, I do what I can.” Jim is grinning at him full-out, now, and McCoy can’t stop the one corner of his mouth from turning up. Goddamn, but he loves the little shit.
---
Day Nine
The owner of the place, the colorful yet surprisingly hard-drinking friend of McCoy’s, is so obviously star-struck upon meeting the oh-so-heroic James T Kirk that McCoy has to smother a laugh. He’s tired, though, and overly ready to get Jim into the room and, although he tries not to dwell on it, the hell into bed-or couch, or sink, or whatever happens to be convenient-so he interrupts the semi-idolatry. “Is everything settled up?”
Jarod shifts his gaze to McCoy reluctantly, then scowls good-naturedly. “Yes. You’re all set. Now, I know you’re on vacation, but try and get some sleep, okay?” He quirks an eyebrow at them, and McCoy can’t not chuckle.
“I’m sure we will. Thanks.” He shakes the proprietor’s hand again, then heads to the elevator. He shoots Kirk a raised eyebrow. “Quit gaping at me, Jim, people are going to think I just broke up with you.”
That gets a guffaw out of the captain. “Well, he was a step away from propositioning me. Some people get upset about that sort of thing.”
“Some people, not me. You gonna take him up on it?”
Jim freezes for just a split second, but McCoy sees it anyways, and it amuses him. “Well, I dunno, I’m kinda tired,” Jim throws back cockily. McCoy then volleys his usual eye roll, and Jim grins, and it feels like it always has. Mostly. Plus this annoying thrum of… of something. Energy. Awareness. Anticipation.
Then they’re at the correct door, and apparently Jim plans on following McCoy in before asking about his own room. Which works out fine for his line of thinking. McCoy runs the key card, and once the door slides open, he blocks the doorway until he’s put down his bags and can turn aside to let Jim through. He doesn’t want to miss the kid’s face once he sees the room.
He’s not disappointed.
Jim stops walking barely two feet into the room, just far enough for the door to slither shut behind him. His bags drop from his fingers, and the expression that steals over his features- Well, it looks like it’s Christmas, his birthday, and the last day of summer break, all at once.
His lips part softly, and he blinks hard once. “Bones… This is the strangest thing…”
“I know, kid,” McCoy says gruffly, unable to keep the smile from creeping into his voice.
But Jim isn’t paying close enough attention to hear it. “No, you really don’t,” he says with a short laugh. “I don’t know if this is supposed to be your room or mine, but if you say it’s yours, I might have to pull rank. Dude.” McCoy hasn’t heard this sort of childish delight from him in a long time. “I’ve never been here, but I’ve pictured it. I’ve always wanted to stay in a room like this. Hell, I’ve always wanted to get-“
Then, finally he notices the look on McCoy’s face. He stops short. “Bones?”
“You always wanted to get laid here, yes, I heard you. Well, here’s your chance.” He regards the room for a moment, quickly turning away from the gigantic four-poster that seems to be right in front of him. He listens to his blood thump through his brains a little more insistently than normal. Then he just does it. Throws down the first card. “I thought perhaps we could share the room tonight.”
Jim stares at him. And stares at him some more.
Then, to his credit, rolls with the punch like a champion. Which, well, of propositions, he might just be. “Bones, you’re-“ He gestures in an abrupt circle, clearly unable to formulate the words he’s looking for.
McCoy lets him dangle for a while, then takes pity on him. “Straight?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not what I-“
“Ah. Old-fashioned?”
“Bingo.” Kirk rocks back on his heels, but doesn’t break eye contact.
McCoy nods, not looking away either. “That’s true.”
“Then forget it. You know what would come of-“ He jerks his hand between them again. “-this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“So quit acting like you’d be okay with it. That’s not Bones. And I like Bones just fine the way he is.”
“Fine. How bout you quit the charming philanderer act, then?”
He almost laughs at that. “Yeah, right. Then I wouldn’t be Jim Kirk. And you may be a cranky old bastard, but you haven’t been beside that Jim Kirk these past few years because it’s good for your health. So again, I’m saying: forget about it.”
“That, my young friend, is not going to happen.” Done with talking, he walks across the room and stops far too close to Jim. Jim doesn’t flinch, though, because he’s Jim. Just keeps that ‘I’m an unflappable bastard’ smirk hovering on his face.
Then McCoy puts a finger up to Kirk’s bottom lip and drags it slowly across once. Twice.
But before he can get to three, Jim’s got his wrist in a vicegrip and the smirk is nowhere to be found. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.
McCoy’s own voice is so gruff it’s almost inaudible. “Enjoying what’s mine.”
The grip on his wrist tightens. “Excuse me?”
McCoy shows his palm in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture, which Jim heeds, letting it drop. The doctor settles for running his eyes lazily across those lips again. He’s trying to remember the smell. “You and me, kid, are a pair of possessive, sentimental old fools.”
Kirk’s tongue darts out to wet the corners of his lips as his eyes narrow at McCoy, and McCoy feels his torso lean towards those lips, drawn in without his permission.
Then revelation flashes in the captain’s ridiculously blue eyes, and Jim takes a sudden step back. “That Alfvén wave.”
McCoy has to try not to smile again. Not for nothing, but the kid is a genius. He leans a hip against the bedpost and crosses his arms unhurriedly. “Yes.”
“It did something.”
“You could say that, yes.”
“I knew you were acting strange-stranger, at least-but I didn’t-“ He stops short. “This room.”
McCoy nods slowly, carefully. “Yes.”
“You… saw.”
“Yes.”
“You can see inside my fucking mind?”
“Could. It’s gone now, faded once I got clocked on the head during the bombing.”
“Oh, you could see inside my fucking mind, so that makes it okay. That’s a huge invasion of privacy, Bones!”
“Well, now, don’t get all self-righteous on me, Jim. It’s not like I could turn it off, or I damned well would’ve. You think I wanted to see your addle-brained fantasies about Uhura’s cleavage, or, saints preserve us, Scotty’s truly deplorable ideas about hamsters?”
Some of Jim’s anger puffs out at the mention of the Lieutenant. “Hey, you’ve got to admit she’s-Wait. Hamsters?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Except I kinda do.”
McCoy chuckles and shakes his head. Then he sobers, and doesn’t let himself think too long before throwing down another card. “It was damn awful at first. Everything was coming at me and I didn’t know who was who in my head and I thought maybe I was going around the bend. Then I figured out how to tune out everybody.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It took a shitload of effort, but I managed it-on everybody but you. For some damn reason, kid, you were inside my head like a goddamn tape worm.”
Jim grimaces. “Thanks for the image.”
“A horny tape worm.”
“Even better.” He looks at McCoy, the skin around his mouth tight, and they both know it’s not about the metaphor. “You should have told me, Bones.”
McCoy levels his gaze at him. “Back atcha, kiddo.”
Jim’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a minute. “Oh, Christ,” he finally manages to spit out, realizing the full extent of what this means. “You’ve seen everything, then, haven’t you? The away mission- and the gym- and the- everything.” McCoy nods. Jim swallows. “Bones, I-“
McCoy shakes his head once, effectively cutting off whatever Jim was going to say. “So will you stay the night with me?”
Jim doesn’t move, and McCoy nearly twitches in the tense silence that descends. “It would change some things,” the captain finally says, his voice the littlest bit rougher than normal.
“Understatement of the year,” McCoy says wryly. Then he sobers, and for the first time, he feels a little sick with the idea that it could all go back to the way it was before. He’s studying Kirk’s face but coming up with nothing reassuring, or even damning. Just… hard bemusement. “You can say no, Jim. You can go on being the infamous Jim Kirk, and I’d understand. Being with me isn’t easy.” He grimaces, but the bitterness is no longer sharp. “I’m told it’s impossible, in fact.”
“Impossible isn’t in my vocabulary,” Kirk says almost absently. His tongue slicks across his lips again-a habit McCoy’s never taken much notice of before, but heavens above, he will now-and it’s clear he’s deep in the machinations of that obnoxious, brilliant mind of his.
“One of the reasons I love you,” McCoy murmurs without thinking.
Kirk’s sharp intake of breath isn’t missed by McCoy as his gaze snaps up to meet the doctor’s. McCoy himself can’t hardly believe he just said it. But he has, so, hell, might as well plunge merrily onward, right?
Right. Well. He uncrosses his arms, scratches at his temple. Finally, he looks up at Jim and just says it. “You’re ridiculous, and brash, and too pretty for your own good, and cocky, and cocksure, and pretty much a cockslut, pardon my language, and a genius, and a damn fine captain, and if you give head half as well as you think you do, then I would be a damn fool to pass you up.”
It hadn’t been so hard, once he’d gotten started, but Jim’s eyes are still totally unreadable. “I haven’t made an offer,” he finally says.
“Well…true.” The doctor has to concede the point.
“And you are a damn fool.”
He raises his eyes to the heavens. “I’m fully aware of that, thank you.” He glances at Jim, then crosses his arms again, one hand absently at his mouth. The kid’s made a decision, that much he can tell, but other than that….
Suddenly he kind of wants the damn curse back, just for a minute. Just to know if he’s going to have to go downstairs and admit defeat to his buddy Jarod by asking for another room.
No, to hell with that, he decides grumpily. He’ll make Jim do the asking, and the paying, the oversexed, backpedaling little shit-
-then he realizes that same little shit has just pressed him solidly back against the bedpost and pressed a determined kiss onto his lips.
Well.
That answers that.
McCoy smiles against Kirk’s mouth and breaks the kiss, a move of which Kirk clearly doesn’t approve because his hands scrabble along the doctor’s arms, shoulders, neck and he presses their bodies together insistently. McCoy can’t not ask, though. “Is this what you midwesterners call an offer?” His eyes are probably twinkling like a damn schoolboy’s, but he doesn’t care. “I just need to make sure, being as old-fashioned as-“
Jim grabs his face in his hands and kisses him so thoroughly that he forgets the question. His tongue does this thing where it swoops in and stakes a claim and then slides deliciously with McCoy’s, and it’s damn near dizzying. Kid has certainly earned his reputation, if this is any indication.
And now he’s mine.
That idea-well, and probably the arguably magnificent kissing skill being displayed-makes his body temperature soar and his skin start to tingle, and, thank God, his cock is very definitely becoming interested in the goings on. And his last worry-that things won’t work properly because, well, Kirk is a man-falls away.
Somewhere in the cool doctor-y recesses of his mind, he’s curious to admit the ways in which it’s different, though. He likes how Jim’s body lines up with his, as they’re about the same height, yet wiry-Jim still seems... delicate, small, like something he should protect. Kirk’s clean-shaven at the moment, but there’s still something very masculine about the way he feels, his jaw and his chin and his cupid’s bow and the tip of his nose, and the hands on McCoy’s skin are definitely those of a man.
But the lips…
God damn, those lips could make angels sin. McCoy’s making plans to set up a shrine to their unholy powers when he feels Jim try to pull away. He stifles a groan. “No, not yet. Just…” He pulls him back in and licks at those lips, especially the corners, in a teasing imitation, and he can feel Kirk’s smile.
“Jesus, Bones,” he says, sucking in a breath. “Yes, it’s a fucking offer. One that you’ve already said you’d accept. Now shut the hell up.”
“Aye aye,” McCoy says with a mockingly raised eyebrow, and finds himself pushed down on the bed for his sass.
Jim clambers on top of him and presses their bodies together again, stem to stern. McCoy groans when their cocks practically sizzle upon contact, even through their clothes, and threads his fingers through Jim’s hair without conscious thought, kissing him for all he’s worth. The captain’s mouth is hard on his, tongue strong and explorative and hot as hell, and he feels it all the way to his damn toes.
Then he feels Jim’s hand fumbling with his relic of a belt buckle (something McCoy wears with his civvies because it was a present from his mother, and not because it fits a stereotype, damn it), then impatiently pulling at his pants, and, when both tactics are unsuccessful, palming him hard through the fabric.
A shock of pleasure runs through him, yes, but something about it, something about the franticness of the movements, has McCoy putting his hand over Jim’s. “Easy, kid, we have all night.”
Kirk stills, then glances up at McCoy. His brows are drawn together just the littlest bit in that way nobody but McCoy ever notices, and his eyes are bright, piercing.
McCoy puts his thumb and forefinger on Jim’s chin and kisses him gently, dabbing his tongue along that beautiful bottom lip once because he can’t help himself. “We have longer than all night,” he murmurs. “We have a month of Sundays.”
Something sort of expels from Jim with the breath he lets out, and he’s no longer clinging to McCoy, he’s sinuously surrounding him, like a housecat or a creeper vine. McCoy shakes his head at the image, because Jim isn’t so static as a vine or disdainful as a cat. He’s lapping at McCoy like a puppy, really, getting his saliva everywhere and not giving a damn. Just happy to be there in the first place.
And McCoy is so totally, utterly all right with it.
“That’s a damn good thing,” Jim says as he slides his hands under McCoy’s shirt, slowly running his fingers over the smooth planes of abdominal muscles he finds there. He kisses the doctor once more, teasingly, sliding his tongue into his mouth then out again before McCoy has a chance to reciprocate. “Because I have enough ideas to last us that long. And then some.”
“Of course you do.” He tugs on Jim’s hair and forces a thorough kiss on him. He touches what he can reach, feeling the strong cords of shoulder muscles and the smooth line of neck and wanting to do more, to study every sinew and every bone and every fiber of this frustrating, amazing, fucking arousing man.
Then as Jim tugs his shirt off and begins exploring his chest with his tongue, setting off lightning bolts all along his skin, McCoy’s focus gets re-directed to taking in enough oxygen to support all his systems. Patience. Right. His hands settle for clutching at Kirk’s hair, fingers flexing, learning the contours of his scalp.
“Yeah.” Jim licks at a nipple and McCoy nearly jumps out of his skin. No one’s tried that before, which is unfortunate because it feels damn amazing. Makes him wonder how long he’ll last under Jim’s ministrations, and that’s not a question he’s had to ask in a long time. “I’ve been wanting to do loads of inappropriate things, things unbecoming of a Captain, to your body for about, oh, forever.”
The corner of McCoy’s mouth twitches. “And if you think they’re inappropriate, I can only imagine-Jesus-!” His sentence and train of thought end abruptly on a gasp as Jim’s mouth finds his bellybutton. He looks down to see a pink tongue darting in and out and around, and Jim’s wicked smile, and if he wasn’t hard before, he damn well is now. From his own goddamn bellybutton. Will wonders never cease.
“At first it was because you threw up on me,” the captain continues against the doctor’s skin, punctuating his speech with lazy swoops of his tongue right below McCoy’s external oblique muscles. “I figured anybody with enough chutzpah-not to mention crazy-to join Starfleet while being afraid of flying would be a wild ride in the sack.”
“Mostly a lot of crazy. And, as I’m sure you noticed-“ He has to stop to stifle a groan, and almost succeeds. “-a lot of liquid courage.”
The tongue makes its way down from his bellybutton, following the happy trail to the belt buckle. McCoy grits his teeth and tries not to tighten his fist in Jim’s hair. “Then it was because you were smart as hell. Best doctor in the Academy, balls out. And smart and talented? Sex on a stick. Add in a little of the ‘ex-wife broke me so I drink like a beast’ and God, I made good use of the fact that ‘bones’ is something you can say during sex and only look mildly crazy, not like a total douchebag.”
Over the buzz this revelation causes in his mind, McCoy hears a clink and realizes that his belt buckle has just hit the floor. Before he can make a word of protest-or, hell, approval-Jim is up and kissing him again, and McCoy kisses him back, not even caring if he seems overly enthusiastic, because he has to give credit where credit is due and goddamn but this kid is good.
Jim breaks the kiss to suck a path down McCoy’s jaw. McCoy fights the urge to tilt his head up, and then decides to hell with it and lets it happen. He hears an encouraging noise come out of his throat, and lets that happen too. “And then the Enterprise.” The captain’s hands make leisurely work of the doctor’s belt and zipper before stroking their way underneath the fabric. Encouraging noises turn to outright grunts. “Shit went down, and although I was miffed at you for a little while for the whole ‘letting Spock kick my ass - twice’ thing, I got over it. You’d gotten me on the boat, after all, at huge risk to yourself. And Spock eventually told me what you’d said to him about it.”
McCoy feels himself flushing, and it’s not just from the fingers carefully mapping out his hipbones. “Did he preface it with, ‘And then the doctor used a mildly inappropriate metaphor’?” he gruffs.
Kirk laughs, then moves up to kiss McCoy again, like he just can’t help himself. “How did you guess?” They both let out rough sounds as their bodies align with Jim settled slightly in the cradle of McCoy’s hips. Kirk has a wicked grin on his face. “But it just made me want to do even more unbecoming things to your body.”
“Well, thank God for that,” McCoy grumbles. He’d never thought talk all that arousing, but he’s hard as sin, his patience is about run through, and Jim has far too many clothes on. If he hears the kid say ‘unbecoming’ one more time, he cannot be held responsible for his actions.
He casually rucks a knee up and around Jim’s hip and flips them over without so much as a how d’you do, so they’re on the other side of the bed and he’s settled on top of a startled Jim, his thighs straddling the captain’s lightly.
Jim stares at him for a moment, his pupils dilated and his breath coming quickly through a mouth gone a little slack. Then his tongue reaches out to touch his upper lip, and McCoy is goddamn done for. He growls, actually growls, and kisses Jim so hard it almost hurts. Neither of them care. It’s clacking, sloppy kisses that tear through them both, leave them gasping apart, then have them coming back for more.
His breath bounces back at him hotly as he circles the shell of Jim’s ear with his tongue, and when he bites down on the cord in his neck, Jim lets out a groan and it’s the sexiest damn thing McCoy’s ever heard. “Clothes, now,” he rasps into Jim’s shoulder, and the captain grunts his agreement.
Their hands alternately fight with each other and work as a team, first stripping Jim of his shirt then making quick work of everyone’s pants and shoes and socks and underthings. McCoy has never before considered men’s apparel to be such an annoyance, especially when compared to women’s, but right now he hates every bit of it with a passion.
Finally, it’s all off and there’s an excess of riches in front of him and he doesn’t know where to start. Jim makes the decision for him, yanking him down by the back of the neck to kiss him while his other hand goes straight to McCoy’s cock. The doctor gasps into his mouth. “God, Jim,” he rasps, barely aware of what he’s saying because Jim’s hand is working his cock with such aplomb that his brain starts to spin.
Kirk grins. “I’m not even going to comment on the redundancy of that statement.”
McCoy groans and kisses him to shut him up, or at least tries to before Jim’s hand becomes truly insistent, stroking him up and down at an irrefutable speed. Then his mouth sort of falls away to settle at Jim’s neck, occupied with the concept of breathing out and then in again, absently mouthing wet kisses along the heated skin.
“I know we’ve got all night,” the captain says quietly, his voice liquid smoke in McCoy’s ear, “but I’ve been waiting way too fucking long to see this.”
McCoy can’t protest, doesn’t want to, as heat spreads over all of his extremities and he feels his balls tighten in anticipation. He clutches at Jim instead, making pathetic noises and pushing himself willingly into that tight fist.
As the lights explode behind his eyelids, he hears Jim’s breath hitch.
“Jesus, Bones.” McCoy chuckles, or at least thinks of chuckling. He’s not sure if he manages, and he really doesn’t give a damn. He has just enough energy left to flip over before sinking backwards into the mattress, feeling his spine relax and his head fall back into the overly sumptuous hotel pillows. Jim’s at his side, kissing him, gently, and he reaches up with one hand to cup the captain’s cheek while kissing him back as best he can.
After a few minutes, his head clears a little bit. He realizes that he’s sprawled out on the bed in a very undignified way, his thighs relaxed with Jim lying in between them. Jim’s cock is still quite hard… which he can tell because it’s nudging against McCoy’s perineum.
McCoy’s whole body tenses up at that realization; he can’t help it. But Jim knows. “Relax. I’m not that much of a douche.” He kisses the corner of McCoy’s mouth. “I just want to- Here, let me show you.”
He gently pushes McCoy’s thighs together, then straddles them. His hand glides through the semen on McCoy’s stomach, deliberately coating his fingers; McCoy’s eyebrow twitches at the sight, and he’s not sure if it’s because it seems disgusting or because it seems arousing. Both, probably.
But as Jim uses the liquid to slick up first his beautifully aroused cock (because hey, McCoy’s a doctor, he firmly appreciates the human body, and this is a damn fine specimen), then McCoy’s innermost thighs, ‘disgusting’ flies right the hell out the window. He’s pretty sure he’s caught on to Jim’s clever-albeit slightly depraved-idea, and at the very least, he’s downright curious to see if it will work.
Jim seems confident enough, of course, as he leans forward to kiss McCoy. “Always wanted to do this,” he says blithely as he presses McCoy’s thighs together more firmly and pushes his cock into the crease at their apex.
So far, so good. It’s a slick slide in and out, and the look on Jim’s face is quite rewarding in and of itself. “Why don’t I have trouble believing that?” McCoy says, enjoying how Jim’s cock rubs just right along his perineum and the underside of his balls. “Although it wasn’t in any of the, uh, imaginings I got to witness.”
Jim laughs, albeit a little breathlessly, and kisses him again. “I just hadn’t come to it in my rotation yet.” His eyes drift shut as he slides his cock in and out of the makeshift hole, slowly, clearly enjoying himself. “Christ that feels nice.”
McCoy can’t help the smile that settles on his face. He brings his hands up to touch Jim’s cheek, then kisses him, this time forcing his hand and taking charge of the kiss. His tongue explores Jim’s mouth methodically, sharing air as Jim starts climbing to the peak. He tastes like… well, like he always figured he himself tastes. A little like garlic, a little like toothpaste, and a little like every day life. The warmth that spreads through McCoy’s chest is almost overwhelming.
“It started for me when you came in with those scratches,” he says roughly, softly. His hands slide down Jim’s neck and back as he talks, touching as many of the working muscles as they can reach before moving around to the front and doing their level best to find places on his chest that make Jim grunt or speed up or twitch in that good way. “I told you to think about sex, and then I could tell that you were thinking about sex with a man, and I-“ He stops. In the name of research, he gives a light pinch to Jim’s right nipple, and is rewarded with a shudder and a curse.
“You what?” Jim murmurs.
McCoy kisses his top lip once. “I was jealous as hell.”
Jim groans and reaches for another kiss, sloppy now as he approaches climax. “More,” he gasps. “Please, Bones.”
McCoy shifts his weight the littlest bit so the angle is different, starts to move his hips in time with Jim’s thrusts, and the captain groans again. “Yes, fuck, you’re-fuck.” He’s clutching at McCoy like the doctor’s his anchor, and his skin is flushed as his breathing grows more labored.
“I watched all your fantasies of people other than me,” McCoy says, his voice barely more than a rumble, “and couldn’t think about anything but how much it should’ve been me.” He kisses Jim’s neck. “Should’ve been me going down on you in your ready-room.” Switches sides, kisses more neck. Jim whimpers. “Me you were fucking on that away mission.”
“You,” Jim grunts. “Yes, Bones- Ah-“
And Bones feels Kirk’s orgasm nearly like it’s his own. They’re so close to each other, skin against skin, that their sweat and semen are inseparable. As someone who trades in bodily fluids for a living, that detail makes it all so very, very real.
He ponders this while Jim comes down, stroking that almost-blonde hair as it lies next to his cheek. He thinks again that he should feel as though he’s cleared a hurdle, climbed a mountain, overcome an adversity. Done something extraordinary.
Really, he just feels like he’s finally come home at the end of a long, hard day.
---
They fell asleep for a while, McCoy discovers when he scratches his tummy and feels the lovely crust of old semen. Sex knocks men out, it’s true, so he’s not surprised; he’s just surprised he didn’t insist they clean up first. But this is par for the new course, he has to admit. Things are going to be different with Jim, and that’s just how it goes. Stubbornly adhering to old mores didn’t work the first time, and this time- Well, this time, he has more to lose and is far less willing to lose it.
However, he really, really needs to piss at the moment, so he has to break the tranquil scene anyway.
Jim makes this disgustingly adorable snuffling sound when McCoy moves away from his side, and he pauses to drop a kiss on the kid’s forehead.
He realizes what he’s done after he’s done it, and can’t quite believe he’s fallen back into this pattern without even really ascertaining if it’s what Jim wants. He finds himself stuck there on the edge of bed, staring at Jim, his head kind of buzzing at him. His gut and his brain are at high noon, and he wants to put a hand over his face so he doesn’t have to watch-
Then the blue eyes blink open and an arm reaches out for him, hovering vaguely above the bed sheet while making grabby-hand motions. “Bones?”
“Go back to sleep, kid,” McCoy says quietly. Then he leans forward and kisses him. Sleepy breath and all. The showdown, it seems, was over even before it began. “I’ll be right back-” But Jim’s eyes are already closed again, the echo of a satisfied smile on his face.
When McCoy slips back into bed, he’s brought a damp washcloth with him. He runs it over Jim’s soiled skin in practiced motions, watching the physical evidence disappear to leave only the invisible mark McCoy knows is now stamped on both their bodies.
He can tell the second Jim’s eyes open, but doesn’t look up. Instead, he takes the opportunity to thoroughly examine this most precious of torsos. Precious to Starfleet, to Winona Kirk, to a crew full of people who otherwise wouldn’t be alive several times over, and now, as always but for the first time, to one grumpy country doctor.
“That kinda tickles,” Jim murmurs.
“Liar.” McCoy can see Jim’s cock thickening and reddening. “And I see some pretty damning evidence.”
“Yeah, well. Wanna make something of it?”
McCoy meets his eyes with a snort, ready to say hell no, but then he sees that Jim actually expects absolutely nothing from him. And the door in his head springs open and he can’t even fathom backing down from the challenge. He thinks he might even enjoy it.
Jim must be able to see the change in his face, because suddenly his eyes get impossibly brighter, and bluer, and his damn tongue darts out again to wet his damn lips.
McCoy swallows, looks from that mouth to that cock, and licks his own lips.
“You don’t have to,” Jim says quietly, giving him an out. “I know it’s-“ And then it sounds something like ‘unghgn’ but McCoy can’t really tell over the roaring in his own head. I can’t believe I’m doing this and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to do this are doing a cha-cha in his cerebral cortex and it’s kicking up quite a racket.
Jim tastes like salt, and tang, and that indescribable skin taste, and it’s not unpleasant at all. He does indeed like the feeling of power that comes with feeling a cock swell against his tongue. He doesn’t even really have to move yet; Jim’s breathing is shaky from just the heat and wetness of McCoy’s mouth.
After a minute of that fun torture, though, he gets curious and moves. Just his tongue, up around the sides. Researching. Jim makes an encouraging noise, and that settles that. More noises like that need to happen.
McCoy is either naturally good at it, or medical training comes in handy in very unexpected ways, or Jim is just easy, because he manages to make them happen a lot, with his tongue and his lips and the back of his throat and his hand on and under Jim’s balls. He can tell Jim is having to refrain from thrusting into his mouth, and is impressed to find that the whole thing is pretty damn arousing. He absently palms his own growing erection, and looks up when Jim mutters his nickname. “Fuck that. Come here.”
Then his hands are on McCoy’s upper arms, dragging him up to his lips for a desperate kiss. Their tongues are learning their way around each other slowly, the dance getting more intricate and more effective, and McCoy feels his cock begin to throb in earnest.
He can’t help breaking the kiss with a groan when he feels the kid’s hand wrap around both their cocks at once. “Ah- Jim-“ He looks down, his forehead against the captain’s, watching the fascinating movement of Jim’s hand on both of them, watching the skin fold and unfold and the slickness of both saliva and seminal fluid appear then disappear then appear again.
Then it feels too damn good and he can’t watch anymore. He settles for holding Jim as best he can, murmuring nonsense until they’re both panting and he has to hand it to Jim, because it can’t just be luck that they’re both coming at the same time, and coming hard.
“Goddamn, kid,” he says once he has his breath at least a little back.
Jim shoots him a shit-eating grin, of course, although McCoy can see the truth in his dilated pupils and flushed skin. “Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.” He kisses the doctor, and it’s so gentle it makes McCoy’s gut turn over. “I knew it would be like this. And I was right.”
“Yeah, yeah.” McCoy steals another kiss, because he can. “Doesn’t help with the mess, though.”
Jim’s nose wrinkles a little. “True. But I think we still have that-“ He rustles around in the bed sheets for a moment, then pulls out the crumpled washcloth triumphantly. “Yup. Tada!”
McCoy just shakes his head, his lips twitching. “That’s disgusting.” He snatches it out of Jim’s hand and goes to get a new one.
When he comes back, Jim promptly takes it from him. “My turn.” McCoy hesitates, then shrugs and lies back on the pillows.
Jim swipes the fabric over himself efficiently, just enough to get the job done, then settles on his side nudged right up against McCoy, half propped up on McCoy’s body and half propped up on his other hand, and starts in on what turns out to be the most thorough wash-up job McCoy’s ever undergone. It’s not arousing, and it’s not meant to be. But by the time it’s done, and Jim’s lapsed into smoothing circles into McCoy’s skin, McCoy’s chest hurts. In a powerful good way.
His hand finds the back of Jim’s neck, fingers running through the fine hairs there. Jim makes a hum of appreciation and relaxes fully into McCoy’s side. McCoy knows it’s time. “So.”
“So.” Jim’s voice is light, but McCoy can tell he knows it’s time, too.
“You have no real plans for your leave. Don’t try and argue with me, I can tell. You’ve discovered the natural McCoy aptitude for… intimate relations. You’ve said before that you wanted to see the farm. Joanna has been positively dying to meet you ever since you made the ‘Top 10 Hotties of Starfleet’ list in that awful teenybopper rag all her friends are reading these days.” He pauses. Clears his throat. “My cousin’s a justice of the peace in the town next door.”
Jim snerks. “You southerners and your cousins.”
McCoy rolls his eyes and cuffs Jim lightly on the back of the head. “Damn stereotypes never die, do they?”
“Maybe I should start calling you ‘Bubba.’” Jim looks up at him with a dastardly twinkle in his eye.
McCoy shifts so that Jim’s mostly on top of him, held fast by the doctor’s firm grip. “If you even so much as think that ever again, so help me God, you will never see the end of the hyposprays I will find to use on you. And if you think I’m putting them in a convenient place like your neck, think again.” He reaches down and pinches the soft skin where Jim’s thigh meets his ass, to punctuate his point, and Jim lets out a rather undignified yelp.
“Hey! That’s a fine specimen of human buttock you are desecrating!”
McCoy’s lips twitch. “Yes, well…” He pinches the other one. Jim flings out a hand, finds one of the pillows they’re not currently occupying, and pelts McCoy square in the face with it.
McCoy grabs his wrist before he can repeat the action, and narrows his eyes at him. “Oh, it’s on.” And he practically tosses the captain across the bed before grabbing a pillow of his own.
McCoy is bigger across the shoulders but Jim is a wiry one, and knows how to use his magnificent body to his advantage, distracting the hell out of McCoy again and again until the doctor finally decides to go down and dirty, pinning the captain down in order to tickle him into compliance.
“Oh my god I give up! I give up!” Jim can barely breathe through his laughter. McCoy stops tickling but keeps him pinned, to make sure he’s not crying wolf. Eventually, he’s not, and they flop into a pile of arms and legs and torsos, two hands laced together on McCoy’s stomach.
“That was so fucking girly, dude.”
McCoy snorts. “Yeah, well, I have a pre-teen daughter. What do you want from me? Besides, you’re kinda pretty.” He leers at Jim, who laughs a real laugh, throwing his head back against the pillows and showing a lot of teeth. McCoy’s chest pingpingpings and he tightens his grip on the captain’s hand. There’s a lazy, hazy silence for a moment, then-
“I want to, Bones. Don’t think otherwise. But it might be a stupid decision, regardless.” Jim’s voice is suddenly too quiet, and way too mature, and McCoy knows he’s not talking about sex, or the ship, or whether they should actually go downstairs for breakfast in the morning.
“Yeah. So?”
“I mean, okay, so I imagine that we could work well together in that capacity. I know we work well in other capacities, now including this one. I want you with me, and I know that for you that means certain things, none of which are beyond what I find-a little to my surprise-I’m willing to do. But sometimes shit happens, and you can’t stop it.”
McCoy doesn’t need the damn curse to be able to see the words USS KELVIN flashing across Kirk’s mind, or the quiet fear lurking just behind. “Will you shut up?” he says gruffly. “I’ve been married once, I know the risks involved. And I’ve been your friend and officer for long enough to know the risks there, too. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your suddenly cautious ass talk me out of doing this properly, seeing as you just spent a week talking me into it.”
“Hey! There was no talking involved!” Jim pauses, suddenly bemused. “That’s a mad skill, actually. I blew your mind and didn’t even know I was doing it. I am truly amazing.”
McCoy groans and has Jim underneath him in two seconds flat. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
“Yes,” Kirk manages between kisses, slightly ridiculous toothy kisses because now neither of them can stop grinning like the fools they are, “but I always assume no means yes with you.”
“Oh, now, isn’t that nice.” He bites a path down Kirk’s neck to the place where Jim’s neck meets his shoulder, making the cord stand out in an invitation. He accepts gladly, ignoring how Jim’s arms push against him as the captain attempts to get control of the situation. McCoy’s mouth twitches against salty skin. “Is that the line that gets all the ladies?”
“I’ll have you know that I am perfectly willing to accept when a woman says no.” Jim then manages, through some miracle, to heave McCoy a little bit off of him and lever himself halfway up.
Bones just shoves him back down again, though, settling himself in the cradle of the captain’s hips so he can use his bodyweight to pin him there. “Yeah, maybe. The sixth or seventh time.”
Jim tries to use his thighs for maneuvering. It almost works, but mostly provides a lot of really super friction they pretend to not enjoy. McCoy is nearly hard again-which would have him preening if he was that sort of man-and he can tell Jim’s there, too. “Well, in polite society, women are taught that they should always say no, so I find that it takes some-“
They both freeze as McCoy’s cock bumps firmly against Jim’s entrance.
“…gentle persuasion,” Jim finishes softly. Surprise passes over his face for about point-two seconds, then he just regards McCoy with an eyebrow cocked, looking as if he’s trying to figure what’s going on in the doctor’s mind.
Trouble is, the doctor doesn’t even know.
That makes the decision easier for Jim, apparently. “Do it.”
McCoy’s eyebrows snap together. “I-“ He closes his mouth, tries to think. “You can’t be serious.”
Jim’s strong thighs wrap around McCoy’s hips in an outright sinful manner, and McCoy stiffens with a groan. “I can’t?” He puts his hand on the back of McCoy’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss, his tongue seeking out the doctor’s and the accompanying shudder running through both of them. “I trust you.” Then he grins that wicked grin. “And I know you were a Boy Scout.”
McCoy blinks for a minute, then tilts his head back as a full-throated laugh overtakes him. “Why, you little-“ He kisses Jim hard. “Smartass.” He shifts up to his knees and scratches his chin. “Alright. I feel like I should make you sign a waiver, but-“
“Just shut the hell up and go get the stuff.”
“Fine, you-you-whippersnapper.” He can’t believe it, but he thinks he actually grins as he slides off the bed to retrieve the necessary accoutrement from his luggage. Damn kid is right, though; he had thought of it. At the last minute. And called himself stupid for packing it. But-it never hurt to be prepared, damn it. You just never knew.
“I’ll try not to say ‘turn your head and cough’ at any point,” he drawls as he shifts back onto the bed and settles in between Jim’s thighs. The captain’s completely laid out, his mouth a little red and his cheeks a little flushed, and McCoy has to admit that it’s a damn beautiful sight.
“You’d better not, you bastard. I am still your superior offi- Oh.“
McCoy feels not a little triumphant as he pulls his slick finger a little ways out before working it back in gently. “What was that?” It’s an interesting sensation, to be pressing past first the outer ring of voluntary muscle, which Jim has managed to relax quite well, then the inner ring, which follows its cue and relaxes as well, much to McCoy’s relief. He’s in no way interested in leaving that sort of mark today.
“Fuck if I can remember.” Jim’s voice is languid as his head falls back on the pillows. Clearly, he’s going to enjoy this. McCoy unhurriedly adds another finger, which elicits a grunt from the kid. “’s good.”
“Yeah, it is,” McCoy murmurs. Jim’s gorgeous, nobody’s going to argue against that, but to see him like this is just mind-blowing. McCoy’s never going to come back down, swear to God.
He leans in to kiss him, and Jim starts to move against his hand, just little experimental pushes. Of course, too, he keeps talking. Kid can run his mouth any fool time, apparently. “Man,” he murmurs into McCoy’s lips, “I am one lucky son of a bitch.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me how, even if I don’t want to hear about it,” McCoy says wryly, his roughened voice belying his true opinion on the matter.
“Of course.” He flashes a smile, touches McCoy’s mouth with one hand briefly. “After a million years wandering around, enjoying the hell out of the imperfections of human nature and knowing no one will ever fit well with me, I end up waking up every morning with a-” He interrupts himself with a hum of approval as McCoy tries a bit of a new angle. “With a hard-on for a doctor.”
He searches out McCoy’s mouth for a light, wet kiss. “And not just any doctor. A grumpy old country doctor with an ex-wife and a kid, for Christ’s sake. I don’t even carry that much baggage with me when I go on shore leave. Yukyuk.”
“You’re cracking jokes right now? Really? Do you realize where my fingers are?”
Jim tilts his pelvis with a raised eyebrow. “Yes. Because it turns out my dick steered me well, despite the astronomical improbability. To someone who can stitch me up when something evil befalls me, as it is want to do, and to someone with-“ His breath hitches as the doctor crooks his fingers a certain direction; triumph warms McCoy’s chest. “Dear God, Bones, you have the most magnificent hands that have ever walked this earth.” He chuckles hoarsely “…despite the awkwardness of that imagery.”
The other corner of his mouth turning up, McCoy adds another finger to prove Jim’s point. Jim gasps, then tucks his head against McCoy’s shoulder. “And somehow,” he feels the captain mumble into his skin, “you are the someone that fits.”
McCoy knows, he knows that his heart hasn’t actually stopped. “Goddamit, Jim.”
He stills, trying to regain his composure. Then he removes his fingers and uses them elsewhere. The thighs around him flex in anticipation, and he looks up. Those blue eyes lock onto his, and all he sees is-Well-
“Please, Bones.”
He’s still for a moment longer, then moves and moves until he’s just inside Jim and oh sweet heavens he almost can’t handle even that much. He grits his teeth, plants his hands on either side of Jim’s face, and leans down till he can feel Jim’s breath on his skin. He’s going to get this out if it kills him. “I love you too, you bastard.”
Jim’s legs tighten impossibly around McCoy’s torso, and his arms slide around his neck to kiss the hell out of him. “I know,” he murmurs into McCoy’s lips. “Now for the love of God, fuck me.”
McCoy growls. “With pleasure.” He thrusts forward into the tightness, trying to start slowly but failing spectacularly. It’s just like in Jim’s fantasy, with the sweat and the smells and the look of absolute pleasure on Jim’s face-Except ten hundred thousand times better. For his soul, yes, but goddamn, for his cock it’s just magnificent. He’s going to embarrass himself here in a couple seconds.
The thought makes him grimace. He slows, kisses at Jim’s jaw, tries to steady his breathing. Jim’s cock waves at him, providing a welcome distraction, and he squints down at it. Jim’s fist is on it, and McCoy can’t stand how hot that is.
To hell with it. He puts his hand with Jim’s and increases the friction. Jim groans appreciatively, thrusting into their combined grips, and Bones can’t stop himself from thrusting into Jim harder in turn.
As if he can tell, which, hell, he probably can, Jim’s voice slides into his ear. “It’s okay, Bones. I’m with you.” And as McCoy comes, way too quickly, he hears Jim’s accompanying grunt, and he thinks, alright, now he can die a happy man.
But for the first time in a long time, he really, really doesn’t want to, just yet.
---
“Not gonna lie, I might get off on thinking of you touching patients with these hands.” He smirks. “Do a lot of prostate exams, Doctor?”
“You know the answer to that, Captain,” McCoy answers with an eyebrow quirked. They’re finally under the blankets, cleaned up and tucked up, half curled up in each other and half sprawled on top of each other. It should be uncomfortable. It’s not.
For some reason, Jim is examining McCoy’s hands, utterly fascinated. The doctor is a little mystified. “It’s not like you’ve never seen them before, Jim.”
“I know, I know. But they-they’re magnificent, no joke. These fingers-“ He rubs one of them, gently, then two of them, and McCoy has to fight the urge to curl up against him and purr. “They save lives. They deliver lives. They take lives, if they have to.” His grip tightens momentarily. “They’ve saved my ass any number of times, you know? And yet, they’ve been inside of me. You gotta admit, that’s kind of cool.”
McCoy shakes his head into the pillow, suppressing a smile even though Jim’s not watching. “Well, it’s not brain surgery, but there are worse endeavors they could be undertaking.” He knows Jim smiles at that, he can just tell.
He can feel when the kid sobers, too. His hand keeps rubbing McCoy’s, working its way to his palm, but it’s different somehow. “What?” he says gruffly.
“That might happen, you know. There are some things I can’t change.”
McCoy freezes. “Jim… What… ? I thought you-”
“No, I don’t mean-“ He darts his tongue over his lips then turns on the pillow to face McCoy. “I love you, you know? But my brain is my brain, and I can’t help but-”
The breath whooshes out of McCoy on a choked laugh, cutting off Jim mid-sentence. The kid’s eyebrows pull together, and McCoy can’t help but lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth. Then the other corner. He almost kisses the tip of his nose, but thinks better of it at the last second. He’s already been called girly once today.
He clears his throat, tries to man up. “You think I’ll be offended by you daydreaming about-Let’s see, what’s one of your charming expressions? Coming all over Uhura’s tits?”
Jim lets out a surprised noise. “Well… yes?”
“Boy, please. I’m not dumb. I know you. I’ve been inside your head, remember?”
“Among other things. Cha-ching.”
McCoy spreads his hand over Jim’s face and pushes. “Shut the hell up. I’m trying to say something you apparently need to hear.”
Jim bats his hand away, then captures it and curls them both under his chin. “Yes, sir.” His eyes don’t stop twinkling, but he does stop talking. For once.
“Point is, Jim Kirk likes sex. I know this, and I happen to like Jim Kirk just fine the way he is. My only requirement is that Jim Kirk have that sex with me and only me.”
“I already told you, I understand that, and it’ll be fine, I’m sure-”
McCoy grabs him by scruff of the neck and kisses him roughly. “You bet your bippy it will. And I don’t think you do understand. You think we’ve had a good run today? You ain’t seen nothing yet. Joanna being an only child was not for lack of trying.”
The worry lines that Jim would never admit to start to dissipate. “Yeah?”
“And as I think I’ve demonstrated sufficiently today-“ He kisses a light path down Jim’s jaw, which tilts towards him so very accommodatingly. “-you should count me in on just about anything you can think of.” Jim makes a noise of surprised approval, and McCoy smiles against his skin. “So long as I can fix anything that’s broken or torn afterwards,” he amends. “I’m still a doctor, after all.”
“Thank God for that,” Jim says, his voice slightly liquefied. Apparently satisfied with the conversation, he puts his head down and pushes into McCoy’s side, snuffling around until he’s found a spot he likes. So like a puppy, and proving himself to be a cuddler outside as well as inside his own head. McCoy’s mostly alright with it. Hell, who’s he kidding? He’s totally alright with it. It’s Jim. And the late hour is starting to press down on them in the form of post-coital exhaustion.
He can’t let the topic die quite yet, though. “Might I give one suggestion?”
“’course,” Jim yawns.
“Share.”
“What?” He’s confused enough to squinch open his eyes at the doctor.
McCoy turns in to Jim so his mouth is right next to his ear. “I want to hear about those impure thoughts of yours. Preferably while your legs are wrapped around me, but during dinner would be fine, too. Or meetings. Or on boring away missions. Or-” But Jim's kiss has cut him off. Just like he planned.
It’s that lazy kiss, McCoy recognizes with a flash. The one from the imagined frolic Jim’s mind set in this very room. And it’s just as brilliant as he’d expected it to be.
Once they’ve come up for air, Jim goes to settle back down but McCoy doesn’t follow. “C’mon, Bones,” he says cajolingly, “isn’t it time to sleep?”
McCoy raises an eyebrow, then exhales slowly. “Listen, kid. Every day, I have this list. Things I need to do, mostly, although there are always a few things I need to not do. And if I haven’t dealt with that list, I can’t sleep. And that’s just how I am.”
Jim looks at him for a moment, then his expression softens. “Fine. What is it today, then, that didn’t get done? Let’s see…” He mimes making a list and checking it twice. There’s a smirk on his face that McCoy doesn’t trust one bit. “Declare undying love to Jim Kirk. Check. Suck Jim Kirk’s cock. Check. Fuck the living daylights out of Jim Kirk. Checkity-check-check.”
“I still maintain you made the first move, you oversexed blowhole.”
“Fine, whatever.” He pulls McCoy’s chin so they make eye contact, and the doctor sees he’s totally serious. “So what the hell is it?”
“We should probably get up early to catch a good shuttle.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I’m not buying that.”
McCoy huffs. “It’s on the list.”
“Okay, but it would not keep you from sleeping. So: What is it?”
McCoy sighs, tries not to fidget. “Do we tell Jo tomorrow?”
Kirk doesn’t even think about it. “We’ll have to. Otherwise she’ll be kinda surprised when your justice-of-the-peace-cousin declares us legally bound for life.”
McCoy’s heart flops over in a hurry, and for a second he can’t remember what they were talking about in the first place. “You-“ He has to clear his throat. “You want her to be there?”
Jim’s eyebrows go up. “I want the fucking galaxy to be there. But I know you’d just grumble about how it’s nobody’s business but ours, so I figured I’d just ask for Jo and the bridge crew and maybe bat my eyelashes and you’d give in?”
He begins to do exactly that, but McCoy captures his lips in a kiss before it gets any more ridiculous. If that’s possible. “Yeah, sure, kid. I suppose I’ll let them come.” He winces. “I should invite Jocelyn and Mr Jocelyn, too. They invited me to their ridiculous cream puff of a wedding.” Everything had seemed cream-puff inspired, from her dress to the table decorations to the insipid music during the reception. A thorough nightmare.
“Oh, hell,” Jim grumbles. “All right.” Then he chuckles. “Jo’s going to have, like, half a dozen parents.”
“Two and two makes four, Jim, and for heaven’s sake, she’s almost a teenager. That’s probably not enough of a cavalry.” The thought brings him up short. He buries his face in his hands. “Sweet mother of mercy.”
“Hey, she’ll be fine. Jocelyn, as much as I hate to admit it, is a fine woman these days, and Jo’s your kid, so how bad can she turn out?”
The glare McCoy shoots at him would kill a lesser man, but it just bounces off Jim Kirk. The little shit is snuggling back down into McCoy’s side already. The doctor lets him settle, then thinks better of it. He’s not ready to sleep quite yet. “Should we go tell Jarod? I think he’ll be thoroughly disappointed he didn’t get to have a go with you.”
Kirk flings a hand up to smack McCoy on whatever bit he can reach. “Tomorrow, you smug bastard. Sleep now.”
“Now, Jim, don’t tell me the old man wore you out?” He prods Jim’s shoulder. “And here all I had left on my list was to tell you some of the other choice things I saw while I had the damn curse.” One blue eye opens to peer at him. “You know, Sulu is quite a flexible lad…”
Jim practically springs out of his supine position, rolling McCoy right over and pushing him into the mattress. “That was sneaky and underhanded, old man.” He kisses him thoroughly, lining up their bodies to start a rut of delicious friction, and McCoy feels pleasure shooting through him like a rocket. “But I’m awake now. So it’s time to start sharing.”
---
Day Ten
They don’t make it down to breakfast the next day. They do manage to catch a semi-early shuttle, though. And when they tell Joanna that afternoon, the first thing out of her mouth is, ‘Way to go, Dad! He’s totally just as hot as he was in the magazine!”
FIN
[Credit where credit is due: High Fidelity, Dr Seuss, ‘Hand Me Downs’, The X-Files episode 3x13 ‘Syzygy’ & movie Fight the Future, my BFF Brita, ‘Sunday Morning’, ZQMF, Two Men & a Motorcycle, Pirates of the Caribbean, When Harry Met Sally..., Isaiah 40:4 (‘Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain.’) as presented in Handel’s Messiah, some amazing smutty art, a half-dozen episodes of Sports Night, Dogma, Chris Pine’s personal tics, my job & the anatomy/physiology textbook it made me read, sex-lexis.com & catwalksalone’s sexual tactics (srsly, I’m-a start a fanclub), my mother’s acquired southern colloquialisms, Foxfire, that chick at Toys in Babeland all those years ago, and, of course, ontd_startrek.
Thanks where thanks are due (or: where the author proves that anything worth doing is a team effort): First off, thank you so much to coughandrealyncough(ETA j/k, she says it wasn't her.*eyebrow*) Anon for such a perfect prompt. (My favorite part was ‘And then sex.’ LOLOL.) Thank you to my unflappable betas, abigail89 and raphaellover, who were in it for the long haul and did brilliantly. Thank you to my f’list for putting up with this nonsense, especially a few: sunnyrea, who made me laugh until I cried when she christened it with the Alternate Titles The Little Fic THAT WOULD NOT QUIT and The Fic in Which McCoy Tried to Kill the Author, and helped me with SCIENCE despite my inability to press the right button in gmail, lord_colin for help with the personality quirks of our favorite country doctor (I know, there probably wasn’t enough avalanche, but I couldn’t resist the schmoop), lindmere for the mindblowing technobabble, eowyn42 for the perfect help with the title, and starsfell for supporting me & cheerleading me & betaing for me & being pure fucking awesome.
And most importantly, thank you to all of you! For reading! For writing! For being such an amazing, friendly, enthusiastic bunch of GQMFs! I welcome love, concrit, outright flames, corrections of typos, canon, and science (no joke! I can take it!), friend requests, seduction attempts, discussions about the status of homosexuality in the ‘verse (because boy, are there a lot of interpretations), and/or GQMF macros. <3 Peace OUT.]
ETA: The lovely prosperity2929 has been kind enough to make this story into a pdf for downloading pleasure, and for that I am full of thanks. <3<3<3