[fic] The "Hookers in a Bar" Fic, Part 3
Title: The “Hooker in a Bar” Fic, Part 3
Authors: shingo_the_pest and k_e_wilson
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bones/Jim
Warning: explicit sex, prostitution, alcohol, swearing, grumpiness
Summary: McCoy doesn't usually go to dives like this, where the music is loud and there are beautiful men and women looking for a bite of your wallet. And this Kirk fellow is far too insistent to be good for Leonard.
Part 1 | Part 2
The next night Leonard shows up at the bar early, just shy of 7:00, and cursing himself for being an eager fool while he wades his way through the mass of bodies. He quietly slips into the same seat he'd taken the night before and scowls at the bartender who nods in welcome.
The bartender, who probably hasn’t changed his hair from the bowl cut his mama gave him when he was five, solemnly asks McCoy for his drink order as though it's actually important. He goes all of half a minute ignoring his ingrained manners before his Gram's voice is snapping in his head that it's rude to ignore a question, and he gives in, muttering an order for some comparatively cheap whiskey.
He nurses his booze for two hours, chatting with the bartender- who's name turns out to be Spock (which is really one of the most fucked up excuses for a name he's ever heard, and that's coming from a man who's named Leonard-fucking-Horatio) before he starts to loose his thinly held patience. He's been checking his ratty goddamn watch every five minutes since 8:15 hit, and he wants to get out of here, he’s tired of the thumping music, and the laughter, and the strobbing lights, and all the goddamn people, packing in like sardines. It’s a damn fire hazard. Spock, for his part, seems to take no notice of Leonard's steadily increasing ire, only offering to refill his whiskey the two times it reaches bottom.
Jim finally shows up right on the cusp of 9:00, and he's not looking fresh. McCoy's eye twitches as he takes in the abused lips and the hard nipples poking through the tight black shirt. Kirk seems to take no notice of the other man's ire as he struts up to the bar, wraps an arm around Leonard, and grins over the bar top at Spock with a jubilant, "Hey, guys! What's good tonight, Mr. Spock?"
His voice is too fucking jolly for McCoy's ears, makes his eye twitch even as Spock quirks a brow and suggests, "Guinness?"
"Sounds excellent! Give it here, please." McCoy glowers and nurses his drink, as the man-child finally turns his full attention to McCoy. "And how's my sugar daddy doing today?" The emphasis on the 'question' is helped out by the gentle squeeze of Kirk's arm around his shoulders
Leonard feels his eyes narrow, feels the deep downturn of his mouth just before he's snarling, "Don't call me that." He tries to look less affronted than he feels, and Jim doesn’t seem to care or notice, just leering with that overconfident grin that seems to live on the young man's lips.
"Aw, is someone a bit grumpy today? Do the old Bones feel neglected?" This time, when Jim squeezes, it's not his shoulders. The young man suddenly reaches down, grabbing Leonard’s cock through his pants and cupping his hot palm around the family jewels.
"Y-you--!" McCoy yelps, his voice strangled and high before trying again, "You're a right asshole, Kirk!"
Jim, for a moment, looked taken aback, but seemed to think there was no need for guilt. "Oh, c'mon Bones, as if that isn't where you want my--" Leonard shoved back from the bar with an angry snarl, grabbing his whiskey and moving away. Hands on both his shoulders brought him up short, forced him to turn until he was looking into bluebluesobeautiful eyes. Jim finally looked contrite -and cautious- as his brows drew together over those pebbles of sea. "Wait. I know, I'm a jackass..." They both stared at one another for a moment before Kirk drew a breath again, "But..."
It seemed, for a moment, that the scruffy man would shrug Jim's hand off, turn tail and leave without another word. But McCoy's stiff shoulders loosened on a sigh. Kirk tried desperately not to grin in cocky victory, and kept his expression a schooled study of perfect compassion as he followed the other man back to their spot at the bar. They both ignored the somewhat dubious expression on Spock's face.
But young Jim is, however, still Jim and he can’t bite back too long when he's this ramped up for something. He makes it thirty seconds before he's leaning over toward McCoy, just enough for the disgruntled man to settle down, one hand trailing teasingly over a strong thigh as Jim’s lips meet an earlobe for an instant before whispering, "Just think of all the fun we're gonna have tonight, Bones."
It's like a snapping rope, the way McCoy has hit Jim's hand away and is sweeping back toward the door again in a blink, and Jim' stumbles after him a bit, snapping "Hey, wait a minute. Come back here, you jerk!" hitting his leg on the abandoned barstool as he grabs McCoy's shoulder again and wheels the man around to face him. "I'm sorry, okay?" McCoy looks like he's seriously weighing the option of slugging Kirk, and for a second the younger man is frozen on that thought, but he shakes it off because he'll be goddamned if he stayed up for half of his usual sleeping hours, just thinking about this scruffy man for absolutely nothing. "Please-" and that word is dragged out of him as though it's a sour punch to the kidney, "-I really want you to stay... please?" The second time it tumbles out, it's not as forced, almost too quiet for the other man to hear, and Jim knows that.
But Leonard's wavering- something in the tone, probably- and Kirk's visibly kicking himself at how insecure and needy that last please sounded right up until the older man is scowling and dragging himself back to the bar stool yet again. Jim follows, silently taking his beer from Spock, who's looking about as smug as Kirk's ever seen him- a turn of events that the young man does not want to contemplate.
It's a tense few minutes as McCoy works through two fingers of whiskey and Jim polishes his beer before his companion finally seems to relax, elbows resting on the bar with long fingers absently toying with Spock's fine tumbler glass. Jim takes the time to bask in the comfortable quiet that's finally descended on them before he turns his eyes fully onto Bones' face again.
The other man's eyes flicker up for a moment before he huffs and turns his head so Jim can see all of his strong, stubbled jaw and accept the full impact of the decadently quirked eyebrow. He finally asks the question that's only half been bugging him for most of his day today, "So what's your real name, Bones?"
He knows half the answer- he remembers the haughty, dismissive way Spock had said "McCoy" at three thirty in the morning, just before literally throwing Jim from his establishment and closing the doors (probably to go sneak off to see that waitress with the fantastic legs from Rosie's uptown). It's a bit disappointing when McCoy’s finely set mouth opens up and only spits out the same surname Jim already knows.
He doesn't even hesitate when he pesters further, "McCoy what?" and he feels no shame in flashing a smile as incentive.
McCoy scowls for a moment, eyeing Jim as though he's not sure if he's being faced with an exuberant puppy or a hungry wolf before he throws out his full name, the ever-present drawl thickening with habit for just an instant, "Leonard McCoy."
Kirk scoffs slightly, raising an eyebrow of his own as though mildly indignant. "Leonard?" It sounds like a half-whine half-guffaw, "I think I'll just stick with 'Bones'."
They probably looked like two strangers, chatting it up in a bar while trying to get drunk. Hunched over their separate drinks, elbows barely brushing, they would seem more intent on heading for inebriation than a good fuck at home. Or a motel. Leonard took a moment to think that over- where were they heading? A motel was more money to spend, but he was pretty damn sure Kirk wouldn't be bringing a trick back to his own place- even if it was an 'all night' event, and Leonard half wanted to protest the idea of bringing the kid back to his shit hole of an apartment on principle alone. But it just didn't make sense to pay for a room after protesting the price of a trick, itself, and Lord above knew that Leonard would be feeling sore in the wallet for a few weeks after tonight.
"Yeah, well you’re going to do what you damn well like regardless of what I say. My mother deemed it a worthy name, but you obviously think you’re a higher authority." Leonard snaps, tired of trying to make any kind of leeway with the kid.
"And you don't dance,” Jim further complained, completely ignoring McCoy’s complaint. “Don't seem like one for much friendly conversation, either, do you? What passes for a good time in your book, then?" Kirk carries on as if it's normal for a hooker to chat up like this before making off with half their trick's cash.
"I wasn't aware," Leonard growls slightly, sipping at the remains of his whiskey, "that I was going to be paying for a chat."
Kirk bites back his urge to huff, "It comes with the package." he says, instead, and fails to ignore the slight twitch of Bones' eyebrow. Damn, was all of tonight going to be this difficult? Last night there had been amazing chemistry, yet today it was like floating in lukewarm water. Kirk wasn't sure if it had been the light teasing, the slight groping, or just being late, but there was no way Leonard McCoy was usually this crotchety. Right? And he hadn't even been that late, he reasoned; Bones had only been waiting, what, twenty minutes?
Maybe Jim shouldn't have taken the two hundred from Gary Mitchell for the blow before coming here. But nobody could tell, right? He fought off a scowl as he reasoned that, too. He'd needed to clear up the rest of tonight, make sure he was available so he could go home with Bones- and even then, he was only gonna make a fraction of what he could pull in if he didn't go with the man.
But Bones was doing fuck all to seem even open to the prospect of speaking, let alone making a deal like this. The man seemed to resent being here. Fine then; give a guy a deal, and he makes like you're holding his kidneys hostage. No reason for Jim to waste any more of his time here when he could be making four times the money with a thousand other opportunities.
He pushed away from the bar, draining the last remaining vestiges of his beer before turning a level gaze on McCoy again. "Look, why don't we just call it a night. You obviously don't want to be here, and I've got better things to be doing than trying to convince you." He jolts the bottle down onto the bar top, "It's been nice, Bones; had a great time last night, and I wish you well."
The grouchy prick only raised the goddamn eyebrow again. "You're leaving?"
Jim can feel the 'well, duh' look take over his face. "You're not interested anymore, and I don't stay late to the party." He shrugs and turns to leave, almost makes it clear of the blond chick who's grinding obscenely, obviously too drunk to be coordinated about it (was that Rand? What the hell is she doing smashed, she should know better; fuck, he didn’t want to deal with shit tonight), before McCoy's voice is snapping into his ears.
"Get your ass back here! Who said a damn thing about not being interested?"
Jim cocked an eyebrow, mirroring McCoy's own expression. "Well, you haven't been saying a whole fuck of a lot since I got here- usually a great hint it's time for me to leave."
"No." It's firm, and it makes Jim's other eyebrow join it's brother. "I never said a damn thing about you leaving; I just want to enjoy my goddamn whiskey while I've got the chance." McCoy pauses, glances away, pretending to watch the dancers, "I didn't say anything about... not being interested. I'm here, aren't I? Came back to this damned woo-hoo of a bar; if I didn't think there was something waiting for me, I'd have stayed the hell away." The last was said, eyes fixated on the last finger of whiskey in his glass, purposefully ignoring Jim's eyes.
Jim manages to quirk a smile, nudging his arm against McCoy's shoulder, “You’re not much of a “whoo hoo” kind of guy are you?”
“Damn straight I’m not. Bunch’a nonsense.” Kirk struggles not to grin, at least not outright, at the grumpily ruffled air McCoy's taken on as he sits down again, leaning against the other man's arm this time.
"Why did you come last night, then?" Jim’s curious, and he watches with something like glee as McCoy tries and fails not to roll his eyes and shrug carelessly.
"It was close by- see it every time I get off work, and I didn't feel like waiting to get a drink."
Kirk thinks: there's a large meat processing plant nearby, a couple restaurants and a large hotel. Lots of little ratpack motels, and little shops run by one or two shopkeepers a piece. Did Bones work at the plant? Was he a cook? Hotel maintenance? None of the jobs seemed to match Leonard McCoy right; they would fit like a very badly butchered coat.
"Where do you work?" It's out before he realizes he's said it and it makes them both blink for a moment before McCoy answers, voice gruff and dismissive.
"Nearby."
That just frustrated Jim. McCoy was the most difficult, stubborn ass of a man Jim had ever bothered with. More trouble than almost any trick was worth! Seriously, just dump the grumpy fuck if he’s gonna balk at every tiny issue. Less than three hundred bucks for this headache was a waste of his night; he really should be packing up for more fruitful prospects, reaching for his goal of twelve hundred dollars a night.
But instead of listening to his common sense, Jim Kirk listened to the gut feeling that felt this was right, and to the tiny little voice in the back of his head that told him he was utterly charmed by the grouchy man. "Bones, you ready to blow this joint, then?"
McCoy nodded, threw back the last dregs of his own drink, and nodded again, this time with more finality. Jim felt his face break out into an eager grin as they headed for the door, throwing a wave to Spock in farewell.
The night was abysmally humid, and Jim sighed as he turned to look at McCoy. "How are we gonna get there?"
McCoy pauses for a moment, thinking. "Well... Where are we going? Your place?"
"No, I don't take business home with me," Jim explained with casual finality. Dear god, he asked himself, what the hell would he do if Cupcake ever figured out where he lived? (Another part of his mind automatically provided, Move.) Taking tricks home was never a smart idea; just in case shit hit the fan with needy or violent idiots. "There's a half dozen motels near here." At McCoy's sore look, he continues, "Or you could take me home. Up to you."
Bones frowns for a moment, and Jim half-wonders what he's deciding when he speaks up again, turning west. "Alright, this way." There's no motels that way, and Jim feels eager anticipation build in his belly.
"You got a car?"
McCoy scoffs, as if the thought is absurd, "No; now shut up and walk."
They go two blocks, and McCoy leads him into the subway, pays for them both, as expected. In the subway, Jim huddles in close, pressing thigh-to-thigh, shoulder-to-shoulder with Bones and trails his hand lightly over the man’s leg, enjoying the barely-rough feeling of ancient denim under his fingertips. McCoy didn't stand for the hand getting any nearer to his groin, though, and Jim debated on feeling put-out or pleased at being able to do this at all.
They got off in the cheap neighborhood. Dilapidated houses were overrun with tall grass. Half-broken, duct-taped toys littered the street, standing out like bright corpses in the dark night. Bones lead him to an apartment complex; no elevator, just cold metal stairs that wrapped up and down the front of the facade.
They climb three floors, to the top; pass by an apartment on the second floor that's boarded up at the windows and adorned with a sign in bright, huge red letters; "DANGEROUS. TOXIC ENVIRONMENT. DO NOT ENTER." Police tape criss-crossed the door, blocking entry.
McCoy stops at the door directly above the boarded off apartment, and Jim cringes slightly- probably a meth lab, knowing this town. "Um, hey, not to be insinuating anything, but are you sure your place is safe?" he asks as Bones shoves a rusty metal key into a decrepit looking lock, "Toxic fumes from below aren't gonna kill us?"
McCoy huffs as he shoulders the door open, the wood groaning angrily at the abuse. "No, it’s not goddamn safe! I've spent hours arguing with the landlord- and I don't want to deal with this right now. Just get in, or leave if you think you're gonna die in the next few hours."
Kirk swallows further protest; he'd been in similar places, hell, he'd been in worse places, and the inside of Bones' place showed itself as decent when he stepped inside, Bones following him and snapping the door shut behind them.
It was cleaner than he'd expected- framed posters on the wall, no dirty dishes littering the tiny kitchenette, the two small windows clean, and even the floor seemed to have actually known a vacuum in the last few days. Bones toed off his shoes by the door, and Jim follows suit, his sneakers looking out of place and disordered next to Bones' neat setup. Like a man who'd had some practice with home life, Jim mused as Bones shrugged off his leather jacket, hung it on a battered coat hook.
"Nice place," Jim concludes. Bones, for his part, stares at Jim for a moment, as though trying to figure out if he's being fucked with. Jim squirms, looking away, "Where's the bedroom?"
Bones lifted his chin, the motion bringing Jim's eyes back to his face before following the tilt toward a plain door on the other side of the tiny living area. Jim crossed to it, twisting the door handle and opening it to find a bedroom, sparsely furnished; he fought not to be disappointed at the bed, though.
"A twin? Not the fun bed I was hoping for."
Arms wrap around him and Bones' warm voice spoke from right behind him. He could feel the man's words on his neck, "That bed ain't seen any 'fun' since I got it."
But Jim, being Jim, was not deterred- he prided himself on being able to work with anything. Forcing himself not to linger on how damned nice it had felt to have Bones' breath on the back of his neck, he strode across the bedroom and flopped down onto the crisply made bed, bouncing twice before laying back to strike a pose. He smiled without any need to force it; tiny or not, this was certainly more comfortable than Gary Mitchell's coffee table. Or an alley. "Not bad," he simpered, wiggling his shoulders to get more comfortable, "I think we can put the 'fun' in it. C'mere." He reached out, fingers wiggling like a small child reaching for candy, grin still in place, until Bones sighed and approached.
His groping hands took hold of Bones by the worn belt loops on his jeans, and he pulled the still standing man into his arms, levering himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread around Bones' knees, cheek pressed warmly into the man's ribs. A deep breath affords him a wash of the man's scent; dirty with metal and grease and sweat layered over something clean underneath- the scent of a sensible man who bathed everyday; who washed his clothes and hair. Jim's hands trailed over Bones' sides, scrunching the soft cotton of his shirt slightly. A gentle press of open-mouthed nibbling on Bones' stomach had the gruff man's warm hands cradling Jim's head in reaction. It takes Jim a second to battle back the shunt of goodgodyes in his gut at the feeling.
He doesn't dwell too long on McCoy's stomach, deft hands skittering to unfasten Bones' belt with practiced ease before peeling open the jeans. McCoy's breath hitches and Jim licks his lips, hands not stilling as he pushes down the briefs, finally- finally- finding what he's been thinking of since last night.
Bones is half-hard already, and his cock feels like hot silk in Jim's hand as he gives two slow pumps, grinning up at McCoy, who's rooted to the spot, watching him with complete concentration, a hint of anticipation drawing the corners of his eyes. Jim leans forward, kissing the tip, just once while his hand twists lightly at the base, still pumping. Slowly, he moves his lips down one side, then the other; running his open mouth from tip to hilt before pulling back and flicking his tongue out to lick one hot stripe across the bell of the head. Bones groans, and Jim looks up at him, meeting his eyes with his mouth hovering, half open, a fraction of an inch away from the throbbing cock.
Bones' hands tighten in his hair, and the corners of Jim’s mouth curl into a smirk, blowing air gently across the tip for an instant just to watch Bones' hips tense. He wants a better angle, so he gently pushes McCoy back, forcing him a step away from the bed so that Jim can drop to his knees. Now he's perfectly level with Bones' hips. Bones' grip on his hair tightens in a short tug, like he's worried that he just might have trouble standing. Jim grins, blue eyes sparkling as he braces his hands on the other man's thighs before fully sinking his mouth down over that delicious shaft.
Leonard groans, feeling his cock sink into that heat. Jim bobs up and down. McCoy fights not to tug too hard on the young man’s head, letting Jim control the pace. And gradually, Jim goes down on him deeper, until McCoy wonders at the feeling of his cock sinking into the tight expanse of a throat. Jim looks up at him, meets his eyes, and swallows around his cock. McCoy feels his knees buck at the sensation, completely willing to die and go to heaven, just from that sensation.
Jim pulls back again for breath, and Leonard gets in two panted breaths before the kid's gone forward again, taken him all the way in, throat constricting and squeezing around the head of his cock. He can't catch his breath as Jim picks up the pace, fast rhythm matching the wonderful squirreling of a hot tongue as it flits around Leonard in the best of ways just before he's being taken deep-throat again, with insides that were all molten silk and tight squeezing.
The kid looks utterly debauched, that handsome young face sweating lightly with lips spread wide over Leonard's cock. His hands muss Jim's hair, making it wild and Jim keeps glancing up at him with watery eyes that are filled with liquid heat and knowing. Jim's nostrils flare with effort as he keeps up the punishing pace, and when Leonard unintentionally thrusts forward, bottoming out, the only answer is a groan from Jim that seems to vibrate in a line right from his cock to his brain. Tears trickle down slightly from the corners of Jim's vibrant blue eyes at the action, and Leonard tries to pull away, only to be thwarted when Jim's hands come around to pull the backs of his thighs, holding him in place so that he can suck with a vengeance that has McCoy's toes curling.
Bones doesn't hold out much longer, and two bobs later, he's coming, unable to control a few stuttering thrusts that bottom out- thrusts that Jim takes with quiet moans as his tongue laves at Bones' base. He sucks the life out of McCoy's cock, makes sure he has every drop from the tender organ before releasing it to pant through swollen lips.
"Not bad." Jim leans back to support himself with both elbows on the bed, knees folded and splayed apart on the floor, his dark shirt drifting up just enough to show his defined pecs, nipples aroused. Leonard supports himself with one hand on the worn out nightstand, feeling his knees still shaking slightly from aftershock, before he concedes defeat and moves to sit on the bed with forced dregs of energy, staring openly at the kid.
"Not bad?" he asks, flabbergasted, "That was amazing, kid." He leans back against the headboard, watches as Jim crawls onto the bed to lie against him, chest pressed to his naked arm. "Holy cow."
Jim smirks, quirking an eyebrow up at Bones from where his chin's resting on the man's chest. "Got your approval?"
Leonard can't even pretend to be sour about the kid's confident smirk; it's well deserved. "Yes." He pauses for a moment, eyes fixing on Jim's moist and abused lips. "Sorry about the... you know..."
Jim laughed, eyebrows rising slightly. "About moving?" he huffs out a guffaw, "You were still as a bird." At Bones' quirked eyebrow and disbelieving eyes, he continues, "Seriously- normally, guys are grabbing me and thrusting before I can get my mouth around them."
McCoy's eyes dart away, a frown coming to his face. "Still..." he hedges.
Jim's scoff draws Bones' eyes back to him, and he smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. In fact, I encourage you to move more. Get rough- make it fun." It sounds like a dare, and there's challenge in Jim's eyes. McCoy fights not to grin back at the dopey look on the kid's face.
"Alright. But not yet." he answers, needing some recovery time. Jim smiles and his head burrows into Bones' stomach. They had plenty of time.
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