Two comment!fics (Kirk/McCoy, hard R)
Some shmoop, because it might be rainout for the Pleiades where you are, too. (As always, if you commented on the original post, you are thanked twice but not expected to comment again.)
Ridiculous
Inspired by these pictures of our smiling boys at jim_and_bones and elfsausage's beneficent reign brightening the world with Chris and Karl photos.
Jim in bed is sheer joy, which is why Leonard will never stop being pissed that he waited so long.
Jim loves pleasing and being pleased, responds with almost embarrassing enthusiasm to praise; it’s generosity masquerading as egotism, or maybe the other way around. Leonard can’t be expected to tell which when his cock is in Jim’s slick, sticky palm, Jim’s lips inches from his ear, saying the most innocently dirty things.
“You like that? You like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my hand?”
“Of course I do, you son of a bitch.”
When Jim’s palm slides up the shaft Leonard can feel the farmboy callouses that have never faded, even though he’s more likely to grip the controls of a spacecraft these days than a rake or shovel. Joystick, Leonard thinks--an old joke, probably going back as long as people have been getting fucked by pilots.
Jim’s lazy thumb finds the frenulum, and Leonard arches off the bed, clutching air. His own hands have nowhere to be; Jim’s somehow arranged his body out of reach, and there’s no point in Leonard touching himself when Jim has those bases covered so well. It took a long time to learn this kind of patience, harder to receive than to give. Even now, when Jim’s hand starts to caress up and down in time with the thumb ringing his head, Leonard’s hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.
“I could do this all afternoon. I love watching your face. I love how your chest flushes when you’re turned on. I love it all.”
I love you, too. Leonard says it automatically in his head, not aloud, because conditions have to be right for him not to make an ass of himself. Anyway, Jim knows he does, and doesn’t have a hangup about hearing the words.
Unfortunately they can’t do it all afternoon, because this was supposed to be a between-shifts quickie, Leonard coming off gamma in a moderately foul mood and Jim heading into an alpha shift that’s also the start of a mission. It may be days before they see each other again and maybe he’ll finally catch up on his reading, because this is all they’ve been doing in every spare minute since Leonard got the very good idea to start fucking a month ago.
Not that he’s complaining.
Jim picks the pace up a little, squeezing a little tighter, and Leonard’s nerves respond to the pressure with a hallelujah chorus. Jim laughs because Leonard is so easy, laughs at how he stumbles when he tries to take his pants off in a hurry, laughs when Leonard does anything other than laugh himself. Then, he looks at Leonard like he’s something Jim invented.
Jim takes a moment to kiss the curve of Leonard’s jaw, work his way up to the soft skin behind his earlobe. I can’t believe you talk with that mouth. You’re a god-damned provocateur. Leonard’s hardly been able to look at Jim’s face in meetings since this started, and he can’t believe that everyone else can keep a straight face. Are you seeing this? he wants to say. He feels mortified, conspicuous, like there’s a giant flashing arousal indicator over his head.
He prays the effect will lessen with time and exposure, but he’s not hopeful.
With Jim’s face so close to his he doesn’t miss it when Jim’s eyes slide toward the chrono. Jim gives a little sigh and begins to pump Leonard in earnest, settling in next to him like it’s a show they’re both watching. With his left hand he strokes Leonard’s hair, methodically messing it up because now Leonard has nowhere he needs to be. Leonard tries to focus on the feeling of a roller coaster going up the hill, not on an hour from now when Leonard will be rocked to sleep by endorphins in an empty bed, the smell of sex in the air and of Jim on the pillow, Jim himself on the surface of some unknown planet.
Leonard’s never seen anyone who loves his job the way Jim does. The moment he and the Enterprise saw each other it transformed them both, and Leonard knows better than to make a thing of it, like the heroine of an old melodrama: Sometimes I think you love that horse better than me. It makes Jim happy (at least when it doesn’t try to kill him), and Leonard’s in love with Jim’s happiness, which is maybe why he was only ever friends with the resentment-fueled late-blooming adolescent Jim used to be before he and the Enterprise saw each other.
Now Jim smiles more than anyone Leonard has ever seen: in his chair on the bridge, with a wrench in his hand in Engineering, when he’s meeting with Chef about the menus for the mess hall. He smiles at Romulans and reptoid invaders, which gives him a reputation as a badass, but Leonard knows better.
Leonard knows he’d be smiling now, if only he could turn his head, but there’s a rushing in his ears and the choices are narrowing to squeezing his eyes shut or watching Jim’s slim fingers jerk him off.
Jim’s arm circles his shoulders, and Jim’s breath is in his ear.
“I love you, I love you. Come for me.”
He does. It’s just that simple.
The incoming tide deposits him lightly on the shore. Jim holds him lightly while he softens, nuzzling his temple.
Leonard turns his head and catches it, that seraphic smile, and what can Leonard do in a situation like that but smile back? There’s no one else to see them, and they’re only as ridiculous as each other, and much later, when Jim is gone, Leonard will still see that smile like a candle in the dark.
Stop Your Mouth
This one's from the jim_and_bones 500-member party post, in response to suddenlyswept's invitation to think of "500 Ways to Make James T. Kirk Babble Incoherently or Just Shut the Hell Up." Well, this is one of them.
Leonard falls back into bed, working hard to suppress a groan, but his lumbar vertebra does it for him; he hears a crack from deep in his spine.
Jim is already stretched out naked, the way he sleeps every night, ass in the air and arms clutching the pillow, staring at his padd. Leonard has gotten used to the eerie blue glow and to waking up to the bed empty beside him; might not even think that Jim slept, if he didn't catch him sometimes, deep into their nocturnal watch, eyelids quivering in REM sleep. Even when Jim's mouth goes to sleep, his brain stays awake.
Leonard would like to unwind a little, run a hand down the smooth skin of Jim's back, distract him from whatever he's looking at on the padd--maybe even, god help him, talk for a while--but he's too damned tired. He fights the powerful suggestion of his eyelids for a few seconds seconds before surrendering, world going grey behind his eyelids--
"So what do you think of Dr. Carnarvon?"
"What?" Leonard snaps out of near-sleep with a jerk that hurts his neck.
"She's been on board almost a week; you must have some opinion of her."
"You want to talk about personnel issues now?"
"Oh, sorry, were you trying to get to sleep?" Jim looks unrepentant and also incongruous with a stylus in his hand, an alert expression on his face, and a whole lot of pale flesh on display.
"Hopeless endeavor 'round here..." Leonard rolls over, giving Jim a buttress of clothed shoulder, and tries again. The cabin is warm the way Jim likes it, that always makes Leonard wake up in the middle of the night and have to throw off covers, but it does make it easy to get drowsy....
"I'm glad you're getting some sleep; you were doing that Basset hound thing in the staff meeting this morning." Jim's voice is quieter than before, but no less distinct.
"You mean the thing where I bite you on the ankle?"
"No, when your eyes get all baggy and bloodshot and you stick your lower lip out at me." Leonard resists the urge to look, but he can hear from Jim's voice that he's imitating Leonard's best meeting-is-too-long scowl.
"Your fault for calling those things at 0700. At this rate we're going to run out of coffee before Starbase 49."
Leonard waits for the rebuttal but it doesn't come; just more light tapping.
It's dark, and there's a stiff wind tossing the dark branches of the trees, and in the underbrush strange voices are whispering, whispering...
"Speaking of coffee, do you want some? I'm going to pour myself a cup." Jim's voice is a near-whisper, close to his ear, but that just makes it twice as distracting.
"No, I don't want a cup of coffee when I'm half asleep. Did I do something to you today to piss you off? And why can't you put that damn padd away and go to sleep like a normal person?" He twists around, taking half the covers with him, reaching for the extra pillow--the one he uses in self-defense when Jim encroaches on his side of the bed--and tries to throw it.
Jim blocks the pillow easily with his hand and just looks at Leonard as if he's the one who's done something odd.
"I was just seeing if you were really asleep. 'Cause if not--you know what they say, if you have insomnia, it's better to just get out of bed."
"Insomnia." There are times Jim makes no absolute sense. "I can be asleep in two flippin' minutes, if you'd just shut up."
"Make me." And there it is--the slight curve at the corners of his mouth, the little spark in his eyes. Leonard has no idea what's with the passive aggression--Jim usually has no trouble asking for what he wants from Leonard--but it's clear Leonard's not going to have any peace until he gets it.
"I changed my mind," he says, hauling himself up on one elbow. "Keep talking."
"Well, as long as we're talking about personnel--" Leonard plants a kiss on the point of his jaw--"I've been thinking about your suggestion about stationing medics on A and G decks--" Leonard drags his lips up to Jim's earlobe while mounting an assault from the flank, sweeping his free hand across Jim's ass.
"Those statistics you have about reducing response time in case of emergency?" Leonard can feel the husky lower timbres of Jim's voice through the thin skin just under his earlobe. "Admiral Kandren wasn't convinced, but I think if we present the data another way--" Leonard moves his hand into position between Jim's upper thighs, lets the tips of his tongue part his lips.
"--a cross-correlation with the--UNH." Leonard darts his tongue out to that spot behind Jim's ear while his thumb brushes across that place on the southern hemisphere of Jim's balls. His back arches and his the swell of his ass pushes into Leonard's hand as the stylus clatters to the floor.
Leonard moves the padd away before Jim can hurt himself, or it, and decides he might as well take his clothes off now, to save himself time later.
Jim watches, silent, mouth slightly parted, until Leonard's hand finds its place again. He strokes a thumb between Jim's tight buttocks, and gets a silent gasp.
"So," Leonard says, settling in. "You were saying?"
Ridiculous
Inspired by these pictures of our smiling boys at jim_and_bones and elfsausage's beneficent reign brightening the world with Chris and Karl photos.
Jim in bed is sheer joy, which is why Leonard will never stop being pissed that he waited so long.
Jim loves pleasing and being pleased, responds with almost embarrassing enthusiasm to praise; it’s generosity masquerading as egotism, or maybe the other way around. Leonard can’t be expected to tell which when his cock is in Jim’s slick, sticky palm, Jim’s lips inches from his ear, saying the most innocently dirty things.
“You like that? You like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my hand?”
“Of course I do, you son of a bitch.”
When Jim’s palm slides up the shaft Leonard can feel the farmboy callouses that have never faded, even though he’s more likely to grip the controls of a spacecraft these days than a rake or shovel. Joystick, Leonard thinks--an old joke, probably going back as long as people have been getting fucked by pilots.
Jim’s lazy thumb finds the frenulum, and Leonard arches off the bed, clutching air. His own hands have nowhere to be; Jim’s somehow arranged his body out of reach, and there’s no point in Leonard touching himself when Jim has those bases covered so well. It took a long time to learn this kind of patience, harder to receive than to give. Even now, when Jim’s hand starts to caress up and down in time with the thumb ringing his head, Leonard’s hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.
“I could do this all afternoon. I love watching your face. I love how your chest flushes when you’re turned on. I love it all.”
I love you, too. Leonard says it automatically in his head, not aloud, because conditions have to be right for him not to make an ass of himself. Anyway, Jim knows he does, and doesn’t have a hangup about hearing the words.
Unfortunately they can’t do it all afternoon, because this was supposed to be a between-shifts quickie, Leonard coming off gamma in a moderately foul mood and Jim heading into an alpha shift that’s also the start of a mission. It may be days before they see each other again and maybe he’ll finally catch up on his reading, because this is all they’ve been doing in every spare minute since Leonard got the very good idea to start fucking a month ago.
Not that he’s complaining.
Jim picks the pace up a little, squeezing a little tighter, and Leonard’s nerves respond to the pressure with a hallelujah chorus. Jim laughs because Leonard is so easy, laughs at how he stumbles when he tries to take his pants off in a hurry, laughs when Leonard does anything other than laugh himself. Then, he looks at Leonard like he’s something Jim invented.
Jim takes a moment to kiss the curve of Leonard’s jaw, work his way up to the soft skin behind his earlobe. I can’t believe you talk with that mouth. You’re a god-damned provocateur. Leonard’s hardly been able to look at Jim’s face in meetings since this started, and he can’t believe that everyone else can keep a straight face. Are you seeing this? he wants to say. He feels mortified, conspicuous, like there’s a giant flashing arousal indicator over his head.
He prays the effect will lessen with time and exposure, but he’s not hopeful.
With Jim’s face so close to his he doesn’t miss it when Jim’s eyes slide toward the chrono. Jim gives a little sigh and begins to pump Leonard in earnest, settling in next to him like it’s a show they’re both watching. With his left hand he strokes Leonard’s hair, methodically messing it up because now Leonard has nowhere he needs to be. Leonard tries to focus on the feeling of a roller coaster going up the hill, not on an hour from now when Leonard will be rocked to sleep by endorphins in an empty bed, the smell of sex in the air and of Jim on the pillow, Jim himself on the surface of some unknown planet.
Leonard’s never seen anyone who loves his job the way Jim does. The moment he and the Enterprise saw each other it transformed them both, and Leonard knows better than to make a thing of it, like the heroine of an old melodrama: Sometimes I think you love that horse better than me. It makes Jim happy (at least when it doesn’t try to kill him), and Leonard’s in love with Jim’s happiness, which is maybe why he was only ever friends with the resentment-fueled late-blooming adolescent Jim used to be before he and the Enterprise saw each other.
Now Jim smiles more than anyone Leonard has ever seen: in his chair on the bridge, with a wrench in his hand in Engineering, when he’s meeting with Chef about the menus for the mess hall. He smiles at Romulans and reptoid invaders, which gives him a reputation as a badass, but Leonard knows better.
Leonard knows he’d be smiling now, if only he could turn his head, but there’s a rushing in his ears and the choices are narrowing to squeezing his eyes shut or watching Jim’s slim fingers jerk him off.
Jim’s arm circles his shoulders, and Jim’s breath is in his ear.
“I love you, I love you. Come for me.”
He does. It’s just that simple.
The incoming tide deposits him lightly on the shore. Jim holds him lightly while he softens, nuzzling his temple.
Leonard turns his head and catches it, that seraphic smile, and what can Leonard do in a situation like that but smile back? There’s no one else to see them, and they’re only as ridiculous as each other, and much later, when Jim is gone, Leonard will still see that smile like a candle in the dark.
Stop Your Mouth
This one's from the jim_and_bones 500-member party post, in response to suddenlyswept's invitation to think of "500 Ways to Make James T. Kirk Babble Incoherently or Just Shut the Hell Up." Well, this is one of them.
Leonard falls back into bed, working hard to suppress a groan, but his lumbar vertebra does it for him; he hears a crack from deep in his spine.
Jim is already stretched out naked, the way he sleeps every night, ass in the air and arms clutching the pillow, staring at his padd. Leonard has gotten used to the eerie blue glow and to waking up to the bed empty beside him; might not even think that Jim slept, if he didn't catch him sometimes, deep into their nocturnal watch, eyelids quivering in REM sleep. Even when Jim's mouth goes to sleep, his brain stays awake.
Leonard would like to unwind a little, run a hand down the smooth skin of Jim's back, distract him from whatever he's looking at on the padd--maybe even, god help him, talk for a while--but he's too damned tired. He fights the powerful suggestion of his eyelids for a few seconds seconds before surrendering, world going grey behind his eyelids--
"So what do you think of Dr. Carnarvon?"
"What?" Leonard snaps out of near-sleep with a jerk that hurts his neck.
"She's been on board almost a week; you must have some opinion of her."
"You want to talk about personnel issues now?"
"Oh, sorry, were you trying to get to sleep?" Jim looks unrepentant and also incongruous with a stylus in his hand, an alert expression on his face, and a whole lot of pale flesh on display.
"Hopeless endeavor 'round here..." Leonard rolls over, giving Jim a buttress of clothed shoulder, and tries again. The cabin is warm the way Jim likes it, that always makes Leonard wake up in the middle of the night and have to throw off covers, but it does make it easy to get drowsy....
"I'm glad you're getting some sleep; you were doing that Basset hound thing in the staff meeting this morning." Jim's voice is quieter than before, but no less distinct.
"You mean the thing where I bite you on the ankle?"
"No, when your eyes get all baggy and bloodshot and you stick your lower lip out at me." Leonard resists the urge to look, but he can hear from Jim's voice that he's imitating Leonard's best meeting-is-too-long scowl.
"Your fault for calling those things at 0700. At this rate we're going to run out of coffee before Starbase 49."
Leonard waits for the rebuttal but it doesn't come; just more light tapping.
It's dark, and there's a stiff wind tossing the dark branches of the trees, and in the underbrush strange voices are whispering, whispering...
"Speaking of coffee, do you want some? I'm going to pour myself a cup." Jim's voice is a near-whisper, close to his ear, but that just makes it twice as distracting.
"No, I don't want a cup of coffee when I'm half asleep. Did I do something to you today to piss you off? And why can't you put that damn padd away and go to sleep like a normal person?" He twists around, taking half the covers with him, reaching for the extra pillow--the one he uses in self-defense when Jim encroaches on his side of the bed--and tries to throw it.
Jim blocks the pillow easily with his hand and just looks at Leonard as if he's the one who's done something odd.
"I was just seeing if you were really asleep. 'Cause if not--you know what they say, if you have insomnia, it's better to just get out of bed."
"Insomnia." There are times Jim makes no absolute sense. "I can be asleep in two flippin' minutes, if you'd just shut up."
"Make me." And there it is--the slight curve at the corners of his mouth, the little spark in his eyes. Leonard has no idea what's with the passive aggression--Jim usually has no trouble asking for what he wants from Leonard--but it's clear Leonard's not going to have any peace until he gets it.
"I changed my mind," he says, hauling himself up on one elbow. "Keep talking."
"Well, as long as we're talking about personnel--" Leonard plants a kiss on the point of his jaw--"I've been thinking about your suggestion about stationing medics on A and G decks--" Leonard drags his lips up to Jim's earlobe while mounting an assault from the flank, sweeping his free hand across Jim's ass.
"Those statistics you have about reducing response time in case of emergency?" Leonard can feel the husky lower timbres of Jim's voice through the thin skin just under his earlobe. "Admiral Kandren wasn't convinced, but I think if we present the data another way--" Leonard moves his hand into position between Jim's upper thighs, lets the tips of his tongue part his lips.
"--a cross-correlation with the--UNH." Leonard darts his tongue out to that spot behind Jim's ear while his thumb brushes across that place on the southern hemisphere of Jim's balls. His back arches and his the swell of his ass pushes into Leonard's hand as the stylus clatters to the floor.
Leonard moves the padd away before Jim can hurt himself, or it, and decides he might as well take his clothes off now, to save himself time later.
Jim watches, silent, mouth slightly parted, until Leonard's hand finds its place again. He strokes a thumb between Jim's tight buttocks, and gets a silent gasp.
"So," Leonard says, settling in. "You were saying?"