Fic: Me And Crazy Janey (STXI, NC-17, genderswap, girl!Kirk/McCoy)
Title: Me And Crazy Janey
Author:
cidercupcakes
Fandom: Star Trek (ST XI/Reboot)
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~1500
Notes: Genderswap. Written for a prompt at
st_xi_kink, "Girl!Kirk/Bones - Academy Days", and also on a great deal of yammering about how great girl!Kirk would be with
medie. Title from Bruce Springsteen's "Spirit In The Night". Lots of gratitude to
inlovewithnight for hand-holding during the last stretch of writing this (what, it's been awhile since I wrote sex).
Summary: After an evening at the clinic, McCoy just wants to go home. Jane has other plans.
She's waiting for him outside the clinic door, and she's probably been drinking a little, but not much, because it's Jane Kirk we were talking about here and it's not like it takes a lot to make her attack you with her mouth and her body and oh, Christ, her body, McCoy does not goddamn well need this tonight.
But the kiss she lays on him -- hot and wet as a thousand swampy Julys, and he's too startled to do anything but grunt out a protest, or maybe just a noise of surprise, and try to ignore the hooting from some lunkheads across the walk. One hand stays tangled in his hair and one darts down to his ass and squeezes, and for such a tiny girl she really shouldn't be able to pin him like this.
"Jane," he finally manages, when she lets him breathe -- Jane, of course, seems to have mastered the art of breathing right through a good kiss, which shouldn't surprise him because it's Jane -- "for God's sake."
"Aw, come on, Bones," she says, and bats her eyelashes in a way that might work on him if he hadn't seen her use that trick on roughly a quarter of the male cadets at the Academy, and something like an eighth of the female ones besides.
"Jane, just because you spent your evening striking out and you can survive on no sleep doesn't mean all of us -- "
"Is that what you think?" she cries, making her eyes big and hurt and not only has he seen that used too many times on too many other cadets (and townies) to fall for it, but she can't keep a straight face when it's with him: she's already bursting into giggles, and still she hasn't got the decency to detach herself from him. "You really think I've got that little regard for you, that you're just -- just a fallback or something? Why, Leonard McCoy, that hurts."
"Okay, Jane." Her grip seems to have loosened enough for McCoy to remove her hand from his neck. This proves to be a terrible idea, because instead she grabs hold of his hand and presses a kiss against his palm, open-mouthed, and then against the inside of his wrist. A shiver runs through him, even in the balmy spring air, and he is forced to admit to himself that maybe part of the reason she seems so eager to come to him whenever she's bored, worried, or just plain horny is that whenever she does, it always works.
She presses closer to him again -- her face is flushed and her eyes have that goddamned sparkle in them and he has to be imagining how hot her body feels through both their uniforms -- and tries the kiss again, and this time he more than meets her halfway.
It's about ten minutes' walk to her dorm, and now that he's given in some of her urgency is gone for now, and she happily goes about brag about her day in simulations, with one pause to catcall across the quad at Gaila, who looks to be dragging some poor bastard to her dorm. When McCoy points out that they might've saved everyone a lot of trouble by just going back together, Jane just laughs and kisses him again.
She lingers this time, but she's less forceful, so that he's the one who has to deepen it. But she sure doesn't argue when he opens his mouth wider against hers. When he slips his tongue into her mouth she groans, softly -- lifts her hips against his, just a little bit -- and the rest of the trip to her building is a blur. Jane shoves him onto her bed, and while McCoy's still working on his jacket, she's already got his pants undone and a hand inside his briefs. His breath catches, and she grins and kisses him again sliding her free hand inside of his jacket and raking her nails lightly down his chest.
"Jane, for God's sake," he says for the second time tonight, but this time his breath is caught in his throat because her hand is tight around him. His hands go to her waist, scrabble for the buttons of her uniform, and then both of her hands leave his skin and go to her jacket.
"Let me," she tells him, and when he swears and tries to breathe she just laughs.
"You're doing this on purpose," McCoy says, and shrugs his jacket the rest of the way off.
"Took you this long to figure that out?" she asks, smirking. He goes for her bra and she catches his hands in hers, shaking her head and twining her fingers with McCoy's. "I thought you were supposed to be a brilliant doctor."
She leans back when he tries to catch her mouth on the first lunge, just out of his reach. Somewhere along the line she's got her legs wrapped around his waist, and she uses his movement to work herself even closer. It's only their underwear between them now, and he gives up on trying for her mouth and goes for her throat instead, because two can play at this game and he'll be damned if he's going to go down without at least a cursory fight.
Jane sighs when he gets her throat, pressing his open mouth against the smooth, soft skin of it. He moves downwards, to the hollows that her clavicles make, and what he can reach of her breasts, and the sigh turns into a groan, one that catches and turns into a laugh as she lets go of his hands and wraps her arms around his neck, drawing herself against him again.
They kiss for awhile longer when she finally lets him get her bra off. By now, of course he's -- forget the nails, he's hard as the damned hammer -- and Jane is panting. She can't stay still in bed, and her constant shifting and stretching and grinding has them both worked up by the time she finally pushes him onto his back and lunges for her bedside table. They've both had the standard barrage of shots, of course, but this seems to be the one area in all of creation where Jane takes no chances whatsoever, and besides, the moment it takes her to down a quick BC dose gives McCoy time to get his underwear and open pants all the way off. No sooner are they crumpled on the floor than she's slinging a leg over his hips and straddling him, and when the hell she managed to get her panties off without him even noticing he doesn't know and doesn't ask.
"Well, goddamn it, Jane," he says, with his hands on her waist, "did you bring me back here to fuck me or didn't you?"
She laughs, a low cackle, and proceeds to do just that, taking her own sweet time about getting settled on his cock. When he grabs for her hips, she catches his hands again, and it's here that they struggle with each other, not at their meeting, where there's no question that Jane is in charge. Pushing against him, panting and grinning, Jane shifts around him, lifts herself and sinks back onto him again. He changes his tactic and pulls at her hands instead, until she's pinning his hands against the sheets. She bends to kiss him, and McCoy catches her upper lip in his teeth, and it seems to be some kind of signal to her because she grabs his shoulders instead, closes her eyes and doesn't screw around anymore but rides him hard.
And through it all, as Jane's slamming herself against him and her hands are scrabbling along his skin, there's still that corner of her mouth that's quirked up in a smile. He kisses her hard and the corners of her mouth are curled upwards against his, and even when she comes, her groan catches on a laugh. Then she seems to collect herself and looks at him, more delighted and more dangerous than ever, and frankly, the rest of it isn't just a blur, it's a blur with a goddamned supernova at the end, except supernovas aren't typically followed by Jane flopping down next to you and telling the computer to set her alarm for 0800 instead of 0700.
"You'll miss breakfast," McCoy tells her, because he has to lecture her about something. "You're skinny enough as it is. Last thing I need is you getting brought into the clinic after you faint in the simulator, and if you think -- "
"Duly noted, Doctor," she answers, and tells the computer 0730 instead.
"One day," he tells her further, "this is not going to work on me." But he doesn't bother correcting her on the alarm, just pulls a sheet over them for the sake of decency whenever her roommate gets back.
"Sure, Bones," she mumbles, but it's anyone's guess whether she a) isn't listening because she's mostly asleep and didn't hear him or b) isn't listening because she heard him perfectly fine, she just has no intention of listening because common sense has nothing on Jane Kirk.
So, because there's nothing else to do, and because that's still a good six hours of sleep, McCoy gives up and lets himself sleep too, and leaves the untangling of their limbs for the morning.
What, I don't have a thing for cheerful swaggery blonde girls. I don't have to listen to these wild allegations. Everyone shut up and go read Night's delightful Chekov gen that I betaed and leave me alone.
Author:
cidercupcakes
Fandom: Star Trek (ST XI/Reboot)
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~1500
Notes: Genderswap. Written for a prompt at
st_xi_kink, "Girl!Kirk/Bones - Academy Days", and also on a great deal of yammering about how great girl!Kirk would be with
medie. Title from Bruce Springsteen's "Spirit In The Night". Lots of gratitude to
inlovewithnight for hand-holding during the last stretch of writing this (what, it's been awhile since I wrote sex).
Summary: After an evening at the clinic, McCoy just wants to go home. Jane has other plans.
She's waiting for him outside the clinic door, and she's probably been drinking a little, but not much, because it's Jane Kirk we were talking about here and it's not like it takes a lot to make her attack you with her mouth and her body and oh, Christ, her body, McCoy does not goddamn well need this tonight.
But the kiss she lays on him -- hot and wet as a thousand swampy Julys, and he's too startled to do anything but grunt out a protest, or maybe just a noise of surprise, and try to ignore the hooting from some lunkheads across the walk. One hand stays tangled in his hair and one darts down to his ass and squeezes, and for such a tiny girl she really shouldn't be able to pin him like this.
"Jane," he finally manages, when she lets him breathe -- Jane, of course, seems to have mastered the art of breathing right through a good kiss, which shouldn't surprise him because it's Jane -- "for God's sake."
"Aw, come on, Bones," she says, and bats her eyelashes in a way that might work on him if he hadn't seen her use that trick on roughly a quarter of the male cadets at the Academy, and something like an eighth of the female ones besides.
"Jane, just because you spent your evening striking out and you can survive on no sleep doesn't mean all of us -- "
"Is that what you think?" she cries, making her eyes big and hurt and not only has he seen that used too many times on too many other cadets (and townies) to fall for it, but she can't keep a straight face when it's with him: she's already bursting into giggles, and still she hasn't got the decency to detach herself from him. "You really think I've got that little regard for you, that you're just -- just a fallback or something? Why, Leonard McCoy, that hurts."
"Okay, Jane." Her grip seems to have loosened enough for McCoy to remove her hand from his neck. This proves to be a terrible idea, because instead she grabs hold of his hand and presses a kiss against his palm, open-mouthed, and then against the inside of his wrist. A shiver runs through him, even in the balmy spring air, and he is forced to admit to himself that maybe part of the reason she seems so eager to come to him whenever she's bored, worried, or just plain horny is that whenever she does, it always works.
She presses closer to him again -- her face is flushed and her eyes have that goddamned sparkle in them and he has to be imagining how hot her body feels through both their uniforms -- and tries the kiss again, and this time he more than meets her halfway.
It's about ten minutes' walk to her dorm, and now that he's given in some of her urgency is gone for now, and she happily goes about brag about her day in simulations, with one pause to catcall across the quad at Gaila, who looks to be dragging some poor bastard to her dorm. When McCoy points out that they might've saved everyone a lot of trouble by just going back together, Jane just laughs and kisses him again.
She lingers this time, but she's less forceful, so that he's the one who has to deepen it. But she sure doesn't argue when he opens his mouth wider against hers. When he slips his tongue into her mouth she groans, softly -- lifts her hips against his, just a little bit -- and the rest of the trip to her building is a blur. Jane shoves him onto her bed, and while McCoy's still working on his jacket, she's already got his pants undone and a hand inside his briefs. His breath catches, and she grins and kisses him again sliding her free hand inside of his jacket and raking her nails lightly down his chest.
"Jane, for God's sake," he says for the second time tonight, but this time his breath is caught in his throat because her hand is tight around him. His hands go to her waist, scrabble for the buttons of her uniform, and then both of her hands leave his skin and go to her jacket.
"Let me," she tells him, and when he swears and tries to breathe she just laughs.
"You're doing this on purpose," McCoy says, and shrugs his jacket the rest of the way off.
"Took you this long to figure that out?" she asks, smirking. He goes for her bra and she catches his hands in hers, shaking her head and twining her fingers with McCoy's. "I thought you were supposed to be a brilliant doctor."
She leans back when he tries to catch her mouth on the first lunge, just out of his reach. Somewhere along the line she's got her legs wrapped around his waist, and she uses his movement to work herself even closer. It's only their underwear between them now, and he gives up on trying for her mouth and goes for her throat instead, because two can play at this game and he'll be damned if he's going to go down without at least a cursory fight.
Jane sighs when he gets her throat, pressing his open mouth against the smooth, soft skin of it. He moves downwards, to the hollows that her clavicles make, and what he can reach of her breasts, and the sigh turns into a groan, one that catches and turns into a laugh as she lets go of his hands and wraps her arms around his neck, drawing herself against him again.
They kiss for awhile longer when she finally lets him get her bra off. By now, of course he's -- forget the nails, he's hard as the damned hammer -- and Jane is panting. She can't stay still in bed, and her constant shifting and stretching and grinding has them both worked up by the time she finally pushes him onto his back and lunges for her bedside table. They've both had the standard barrage of shots, of course, but this seems to be the one area in all of creation where Jane takes no chances whatsoever, and besides, the moment it takes her to down a quick BC dose gives McCoy time to get his underwear and open pants all the way off. No sooner are they crumpled on the floor than she's slinging a leg over his hips and straddling him, and when the hell she managed to get her panties off without him even noticing he doesn't know and doesn't ask.
"Well, goddamn it, Jane," he says, with his hands on her waist, "did you bring me back here to fuck me or didn't you?"
She laughs, a low cackle, and proceeds to do just that, taking her own sweet time about getting settled on his cock. When he grabs for her hips, she catches his hands again, and it's here that they struggle with each other, not at their meeting, where there's no question that Jane is in charge. Pushing against him, panting and grinning, Jane shifts around him, lifts herself and sinks back onto him again. He changes his tactic and pulls at her hands instead, until she's pinning his hands against the sheets. She bends to kiss him, and McCoy catches her upper lip in his teeth, and it seems to be some kind of signal to her because she grabs his shoulders instead, closes her eyes and doesn't screw around anymore but rides him hard.
And through it all, as Jane's slamming herself against him and her hands are scrabbling along his skin, there's still that corner of her mouth that's quirked up in a smile. He kisses her hard and the corners of her mouth are curled upwards against his, and even when she comes, her groan catches on a laugh. Then she seems to collect herself and looks at him, more delighted and more dangerous than ever, and frankly, the rest of it isn't just a blur, it's a blur with a goddamned supernova at the end, except supernovas aren't typically followed by Jane flopping down next to you and telling the computer to set her alarm for 0800 instead of 0700.
"You'll miss breakfast," McCoy tells her, because he has to lecture her about something. "You're skinny enough as it is. Last thing I need is you getting brought into the clinic after you faint in the simulator, and if you think -- "
"Duly noted, Doctor," she answers, and tells the computer 0730 instead.
"One day," he tells her further, "this is not going to work on me." But he doesn't bother correcting her on the alarm, just pulls a sheet over them for the sake of decency whenever her roommate gets back.
"Sure, Bones," she mumbles, but it's anyone's guess whether she a) isn't listening because she's mostly asleep and didn't hear him or b) isn't listening because she heard him perfectly fine, she just has no intention of listening because common sense has nothing on Jane Kirk.
So, because there's nothing else to do, and because that's still a good six hours of sleep, McCoy gives up and lets himself sleep too, and leaves the untangling of their limbs for the morning.
What, I don't have a thing for cheerful swaggery blonde girls. I don't have to listen to these wild allegations. Everyone shut up and go read Night's delightful Chekov gen that I betaed and leave me alone.