Haunting My Dreams (HAPPY HALLOWEEN: HERE'S SOME PR0N)

Oct 31, 2010 01:02

Story Title: Haunting My Dreams
    Fandom: Star Trek AOS
    Rating: NC-17
    Warnings: PWP, slight bloodplay, vamp!Bones
    Summary: Halloween Party at the Orion Compound goes from blase to interesting. Very interesting.
    Disclaimer: This stuff doesn't belong to me, or to imagined_haven , my coauthor. It all belongs to those wonderful men, Gene Rodenberry and JJ Abrams, along with the studios and companies involved therein.

Written for Halloween and crossposted to kirk_mccoy . Happy Halloween! And a very Happy Samhain to my friends who celebrate with me!

Jim skirted the largest groups on his way to the bar, cutting through some of them to protests and catcalls at his costume. He was dressed as the grim Reaper, with skeleton makeup on his face, and his long-sleeved black shirt ending in skeleton gloves, tucked into his favorite leather pants with the swirls cut-out down the sides, just this side of indecent. He wore no cloak, simply because it would have hampered his movement, and he liked having that freedom.

This was the Orion version of a Halloween party, only with more alcohol and no candy. He'd heard about it from the girl that had done his makeup, an Orion named Gaila, and decided to check it out. So far, though, it just seemed to be a normal club scene, in a very pretentious club, though the serving girls were pretty hot. He got his drink and suddenly felt very awkward, as though he shouldn't have been there. He let his eyes rove over the whole club - the bar was raised over the dance floor - and they were caught by a pair of hazel (how he knew they were hazel he couldn't tell) across the club, attached to a gorgeous man who was standing absolutely still, just watching the club, like him.

He clutched his drink tighter and tried to look away, but the man had shifted, revealing what he had on under the cape; sleeveless shirt that shimmered in the strobe lights of the club, and matte leather pants a hair too tight to be comfortable, though he wore them like they were his skin. Those eyes, though: they were captivating, along with the rest of him. He looked vaguely familiar, but Jim couldn't place him. Maybe they had a class together or something. He downed his drink in one go and ordered another before stepping of the dais and stalking through the dancers on the floor.Opposite him, the stranger did the same, so that they were mirroring each other as they shimmied their way past people in idiotic polyester costumes and tacky wigs.

It was an elaborate dance of predator and prey, though he wouldn't be able to say which of them fit which category until he got closer. He pushed rudely through a group of slutty nurses who tried to catch his attention, though he had eyes only for the mysterious stranger who also had his own group of slutty witches to plow through. They were speaking to each other without words now, body language and expression saying more than those paltry things ever could. Jim decided to take the high position, because the signals from the dark man were conflicting, vulnerability and dark knowledge twining and dancing in his stance and his eyes.

Finally, finally, they were face to face, close enough to touch, and Jim barely ran one gloved fingertip down the man's arm, watching the gooseflesh raised there with a detached eye, while his other hand undid the ties of the cape hanging down to the man's knees, obstructing his view of this perfect specimen. The man closed his eyes for a moment, submitting to the touch, allowing Jim's fingers to run over his collarbone and shoulders, wherever skin showed. And then Jim's hand was grabbed, gently, but firmly, in the man's larger grip, and his gloves were peeled off, one by one, with agonizing slowness. The man's eyes were practically glowing now, and Jim found himself stunned into inactivity, as the prey became the predator, and the man began ghosting his fingers over Jim's neck and collarbones, eliciting shudders when he touched places that Jim didn't even know were erogenous zones.

He had faded into some kind of sub-space when the fingers tipped his chin up and he was being kissed by the man, all tongues and lips and suction, setting his nerve endings on fire. He scrabbled at the man's shirt, managing to get it off with minimum fuss, and then the man was kissing down his jawline, licking insidious patterns into the skin just beyond the makeup, leaving tingling flames behind as he tipped his head for better access. The small nips made him groan, as the man sucked and nipped at the spot behind his ear that seemed to be connected to his cock, sending sparks straight down that invisible line, making him buck slightly. The man's hands came to rest on his hips, stilling his movements.

"Easy, darlin'," a rough voice said in his ear, and he groaned, tipping his head further as the licks and nips started down the column of his neck, settling over the pulse-point that fluttered there, and laving it with lips and tongue until he was writhing with the intensity of the feeling. He was breathing through his nose now, flaring breaths that brought the other man's scent in, cinnamon and something lemony, mixed with something that had to be the man himself, making his mouth water reflexively. The little nibbles continued for a moment until the man sucked hard on his skin, raising a bruise in moments, making him shudder at the dark chuckle from his tormentor. "Such a gorgeous sight, darlin'."

He groaned something in reply, hands coming up to the man's shoulders as the hickey became just one of many, a line up and down his neck, from his pulsepoint to his ear and back, the slight pain translating directly to pleasure; he always liked it rough, after all. He yelped in surprise when the man bit down though, his heart stuttering in his chest at the slight fear that rose unbidden as skin broke and blood welled. The man suckled softly, and Jim could feel the blood leaving with every beat of his heart, the fear transforming into something else as the man's hand came up and pulled his head further to the side by grabbing a handful of hair and yanking. He went with the motion, feeling drugged as his consciousness was overtaken by a haze of pleasured pain, undulating his hips against the restraining hand; not to break free, but because he couldn't control them anymore.

The man groaned into his neck and his hands both moved around to his ass, lifting him slightly as the soft suckling became harder, pulling more blood, and Jim let his body rest against him, groaning as pleasure rolled through him in waves, stemming from that place in his neck. He was limp now, unable to move, but his cock was getting harder and harder, and finally he began to rut against the man, who simply moved so that Jim was straddling his thigh, giving him more friction. He groaned again and thrust helplessly, feeling the man shudder in pleasure himself as the world grayed at the edges, leaving nothing but the sensations. His rutting grew faster and faster as the gray crowded in, and he released with a silent scream just before -

Waking up in his bed at the Academy, late afternoon sunshine coming in through the windows, his come splattered over his stomach and hand. He felt for his neck, and there was nothing there, no tenderness, no blood. He fell back into his pillow with a frustrated groan, wondering when his fantasies had gotten to that stage of reality, and what that meant in the scheme of his sexual life. He sighed and went to take a shower, ignoring the beeping of his comm which was probably Gaila, seeing when he was coming over to get his makeup done for the - party. Part of him realized what had happened, and sped him through his shower and into his costume, sending him over to Gaila's room in record time.

Once he was completely put together, he meandered his way across campus, finally leaving it and going over to the Compound, the club where the thing was being held. Just as he walked inside and passed his jacket to the coat-checker, a cape was passed over his shoulder.

"Keep those together, if you would," a heavy Southern voice said, and he spun, surprised, looking up into the face of the man from his dream, a face that he recognized now. The doctor from the shuttle was standing in front of him, the same outfit from his dream on, a dark glint in his eye that Jim's cock reacted to, before the man spoke to him. "Well, darlin', let's get this party started."

fandom: st:xi, fanfic, kirk/mccoy, pr0n, au, rating: nc-17

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