and baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun
Because tokyoghoststory wanted me to do something dirtybadwrong. With Gary Mitchell. I did the best I could.
Title: Poker-Face
Author: eonism
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just here for the lulz.
Characters/Pairings: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy/Gary Mitchell (Star Trek XI)
Word Count: 5,632
Warnings: Threesome, potential dubious consent issues
Author's notes: Written for tokyoghoststory. Beta'd by tracker_lucifer, who held my hand every step of the way. Any other mistakes are my own.
Summary: It starts four beers in, when Jim Kirk’s fresh out of poker chips and three-hundred credits in the hole.
It starts four beers in, when Jim Kirk’s fresh out of poker chips and three-hundred credits in the hole.
They’re all sitting in Gary Mitchell’s dorm, Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy and Gary, at the table he’d managed to cram into the corner of the room. San Francisco had felt peculiarly small for a Friday night. Downtown hadn’t been offering anything better than the promise of a few beers anyway, so when Gary offered a few six-packs of Mexican beer, a few hands of poker, and use of his roommate-free living space, there was no reason to say no. Jim had known Gary for a while, mostly from cadet bars and parties off campus, when Bones was cramming for a test or (god forbid) going home early. He was good for a beer and a laughs, if nothing else, with his broad smile and extensive collection of dirty jokes.
When asked if his roommate would mind the intrusion, Gary just shrugged, and waved the six-pack temptingly. “Nah, he took off for the weekend, like always,” he said. “That Weaver kid’s too uptight for his own good.”
Not that Jim had remembered ever actually seeing that Weaver kid, especially not in the dorms. The story that Mitchell, a generally decent guy and navigator from Eldman, if Jim’s memory served, liked to play games with his roommates’ heads went on as an unsubstantiated (but generally accepted) rumor. A few beers and a handful of poker chips later, the only thing about Gary Mitchell that put Jim Kirk on edge was the fact that he was better at cards than him.
Gary’s on the other side of the table, a fat stack of chips in his corner and a firm hand on his cards. “Raise,” he says, and throws three chips into the pot.
Bones looks unimpressed. “Call,” and he does, cherry-tip glowing when he takes a slow drag of his menthol cigarette. He never smokes any more, except for when he’s playing poker or has just gotten bad news.
Between them Jim shrugs, and tries not to look like he’s totally bust. “Raise.”
“Raise what, dipshit?” Gary chuckles darkly around the mouth of his bottle when he takes a swallow of beer. “I’ve got your chips and McCoy already has all your money.”
“You’re pretty much up shit creek, kid,” Bones agrees, and not without a certain edge of satisfaction, despite the poker-face and third glass of bourbon. “Might as well just sit this one out before you end up any further in debt.”
“Or go out for some more beer,” Gary chimes.
“Look, you know what, fuck both of you,” Jim insists. “Have neither of you ladies never heard of gambling before? I’ll just wager something else, so shut up and worry about yourselves.”
Gary sits up. “Wager what?”
Lifting his glass for a drink, Bones rolls his eyes. “Forget it. Jim doesn’t own anything you’d want, except a stash of old Hustler’s under his mattress and all the shit he’s stolen from me.”
“Fuck you too, Bones.”
“What about your bike?” Gary asks.
Jim looks appalled. “And fuck you too, Gary. Not my bike. You couldn’t handle her anyway.”
“Well shit, Kirk.” Bones stubs out his cigarette, cards left face-down on the table. “It’s not like you have anything else.”
“Bones -”
“How ‘bout if you lose this hand,” Gary proposes, “you shine my boots for the week. Or you have to run around the quad naked during assembly tomorrow.”
“Oh, that he’d do for free.”
“Bones, seriously.”
“What about a week’s pay?”
“What, on top of the week’s pay you already stole from me?” Jim scoffs. “Yeah. Right. Keep going.”
“Well then what is it going to be, Kirk?” Gary looks ridiculously smug, and it kind of pisses Jim off. “If you don’t have anything, fold now and get out of the way.”
Looking to his left, Bones is giving him the face. The You’re an idiot and you can’t be helped but that’s okay face that tells him to sit this one out. Instead, Jim licks his bottom lip and lifts his brow coolly.
“Name it,” he says. “Whatever you want. If I lose this hand, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”
Across the table, Gary smirks slowly.
“Jim, you can’t be serious,” Bones cuts in. “You’re bust, just sit it out.”
Leaning back in his chair, Gary examines Jim carefully. Bones doesn’t like the look of it. Jim just tilts his head and waits.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.” Gary purses his lips. “Anything? As in?”
“Whatever you want.” Leaning forward, Jim lays his cards down on the table and looks at him hard. “So what’s it gonna be, Mitchell?”
“Jim, seriously,” Bones insists, “Don’t be stupid. Just sit it out.”
“You lose this hand,” Gary says, and smiles, “and you have to give McCoy here a blowjob.”
“Excuse me?” Beside Jim, Bones all but barks. “You’re out of your fucking mind, Mitchell. Jim, don’t listen to him -”
“Right here,” Gary drawls out, “right now.”
“Fine,” Jim agrees.
Gary smirks. Bones’ face burns red on a snarl.
“Are you kidding me?” Making motion to stand, Bones pushes his chair back. “You two want to humiliate each other for money? Knock yourselves out, but I’m not having any part of it.”
“Bones, sit down.” Catching the doctor by the sleeve, Jim pulls him back to his seat. “Stop being such a drama queen.”
“And fuck you especially, Jim,” Bones tells him, in the slow firm tone he would take with a small child or a disobedient dog. “Because you’re completely insane if you think I’m playing along with this.”
“Yeah, but c’mon - I know Gary,” Jim dismisses, and looks at the other man disarmingly. “Like he’s serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious,” Gary chuckles, and brings his beer up for a sip. “C’mon. It’s not like everybody doesn’t already know that you two are blowing each other anyway. You can’t cover your tracks for shit.”
So they do blow each other. They did other things, too. Fucking clumsily in their dorm room when they’d been out drinking all night, or the occasional handjob in the shower, just because Jim can and Bones lets him get away with it. Jim still chased girls and Bones was still his best friend, and the sex didn’t mean anything if it didn’t have to. Still it doesn’t stop the embarrassed redness from creeping to Bones’ face or keep Jim’s stomach from doing that weird little flip when Gary says it out loud, smirking the way that he is.
“Fuck you, Mitchell,” Bones growls, “You can get your rocks off somewhere else.”
When Gary’s smile doesn’t falter, Jim knows it definitely pisses him off.
“Fine. And if I win this hand?”
“Then I don’t take any more of your money. I think that’s pretty fair, all things considered.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind Jim knows he’s going to regret this in the morning. Maybe it’s his pride or maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the three-hundred credits and whatever else in chips that he’s just pissed away on ten bad hands. Whatever it is, even the look on Bones’ face doesn’t keep him from saying, “Deal.”
“Good,” Gary’s smile broadens and he picks up his cards. “Deal.”
The both of them look at Bones, who’s still fuming silently between them. After a hard moment he lets out a sigh, reaches for his glass, and downs the last of its contents in one swallow.
“You better have one fucking great hand, Jim,” he says, shaking his head and reaching for his cards. “Because I swear, if you don’t…”
“Bones.” Jim offers him an appeasing look and takes up his cards, rearranging them calmly. “Relax. I got this.”
The doctor shakes his head. The helmsman looks entirely too certain for his own good. Between them Jim just puts up his best poker-face.
“Ladies,” he says. “Are we playing or what?”
Bones huffs out a breath as he lays his eights and sixes down. “Two pairs.” Reaching for the bottle of bourbon he pours himself another glass and shakes his head. “You’d better fucking beat me, kid.”
“Flush,” Jim shows his hand on the table, “all spades.” Eying Gary, he offers him a smile. “Next.”
Gary doesn’t flinch. “Four of a kind.”
When he lays his four queens down, Jim’s stomach drops. There was no getting out of this now.
“I think you owe the good doctor here a little visit.”
“That’s it.” Planting his palms on the table, Bones pushes his chair back to stand. “I’m leaving. You two can suck each other off for all I care - I’m not playing into your shared psychosis anymore.”
Collecting the chips in the center of the table, Gary hums contentedly in the back of his throat. “Your friend here still owes me money,” he says, arranging his winnings into neat little stacks, “and since you just agreed to the wager, I say you’re both on the hook on this one.”
Bones’ face tightens into a scowl. “You know what you can do with your money, Mitchell?”
“Bones.” Jim stands. Leaning out to touch the doctor’s arm, he reaches for the glass of bourbon and tips it back in a swallow. “Look, fuck him, alright? He wants a show? Fine, give him a show.”
The line of Bones’ brow softens. “Jim, you can’t be serious.”
A rush from the alcohol’s slow burn makes Jim’s head buzz and his belly warm. “C’mere.” He comes around the table, pressing on Bones’ shoulder to urge him to sit back down. The line of his mouth lifts. “It’s just a blowjob, right?”
“Jim.” Bones’ voice takes a rough edge, punctuated by the dark look that settles in his eyes when Jim touches him. “Look, we’ve been drinking all night; you lost some money and you said some shit you don’t mean. It’s just a fucking bet, Jim - you don’t have to do this.”
Jim silences him with a kiss, all teeth and tongue, pushing Bones back until he gives in and drops into his chair. Bracing his hands on Bones’ shoulders Jim straddles him, dipping his tongue between his lips and sliding his fingers into his hair until the stiffness in his limbs begins to melt into consent. Hands grip his waist through his jeans and Bones let out a sigh into the kiss, half-stifled and half-swallowed, and as he shakes his head Jim licks the arch of the doctor’s top lip and murmurs.
“Maybe I want to.”
When Jim opens his eyes Gary’s watching them. Leaning forward from his perch at the other side of the table, gaze hard, mouth tight. He betrays nothing but passing interest, fingers loose around the neck of his bottle of now-warm beer. Bones closes his eyes and turns his head, stubbled cheeks grazing with a reflexive squeeze of Jim’s ass in his lap, but Jim never looks away from Gary.
The bastard wants a show, right?
Sliding down Bones’ body Jim gets down to his knees on the floor, sitting between the doctor’s thighs with a slow stroke over the tops of them through the denim of his jeans. There’s a growing bulge under his fly, making Bones’ face flush from something besides the alcohol. He’s pissed (and reasonably so), but still hot for it. Watching as he bites his lip under the knit of his brow, Jim doesn’t have to fake the way his breath begins to thin when he can feel the heat of Bones’ body through his clothes. Giving Gary a sidelong glance Jim undoes Bones’ jeans and pulls him out, fingers circling the base of his cock in a few short strokes.
Feeling it thrum in his hand, Jim lets the free one idle on Bones’ thigh and listens to his breathing hitch. Across the table a smirk spreads on Gary’s face, but the cup of Bones’ hands on his neck brings Jim’s attention back to him and the lidded frustration in his eyes.
“You’re like a couple of women over there,” Gary chuckles, and takes a sip of his beer. “Are you actually going to suck it or what?”
“Fuck you, Mitchell,” Bones practically spits. “Keep cracking jokes over there and I swear I’ll put my boot in your ass.”
“Hey,” Jim murmurs. “Fuck him. Eyes on me, alright?”
When Bones sucks in a breath and nods, Jim strokes down the length of his dick and licks his head, teasing across the slit and behind the crown. Licking him until he’s completely hard Jim closes his lips around Bones and sucks down, and for it his best friend grunts raggedly. Fingers tug at his hair and Jim can feels Bones’ eyes on him with every dip of his head, seeking out the right amount of wetness and pressure that he knows from practice makes the doctor’s balls tight and his dick throb between Jim’s lips. When he finds it, Bones flexes his hips and closes his eyes on a moan.
Gary’s no longer smirking when Jim looks over. Instead there’s a tight look on his face, a hand on his thigh, fingers brushing the seam of his crotch. Leaning back Jim gives Bones’ dick a slow lick from root to tip, earning him a pull of his hair and a sharp buck in turn, and circling the head with his tongue smirks around it. It makes Gary’s breath catch in a hitch he can’t cover up, and Jim isn’t too proud to admit that he’s getting a little hard. Inwardly he’s glad that Bones isn’t watching all this, and opens his mouth wider. It takes a little finesse but he sucks his friend down, as far as his gag reflex takes him, until his blunt head brushes the back of his throat.
“You two are pretty fucking hot together.” There’s a soft, almost wistful, laughter in Gary’s voice. “I should’ve known.”
“Should’ve known what?” Bones grits out, hands making fists in Jim’s hair as he teeters on the edge of orgasm.
“That you two were really fucking.”
Jim’s stomach does a sick little flip. Bones means to say something but comes first, with a choked curse and a hot splash in the back of Jim’s throat. When Bones sags against the chair Jim coughs and swallows it, licks his lips and pulls away as the doctor quickly tucks himself back into his jeans.
There was always something a little off about Gary, that Jim had never really taken into consideration before. He was always just a little too lucky and a little too good at cards for his own good. Sometimes at a bar or from across the table it was like he was staring at Jim, without even really looking at him, like a wet glimmer of silver in Jim’s peripheral that made him look twice in the other man’s direction. And Gary would just smirk a little bit, raise his bottle or glass, and never say a word of it.
Bones was right. They should’ve left.
“I figured it out after Deneb IV, but had to see it for myself,” Gary says, and sounds pleased with himself. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for it. But fuck, Kirk, you just suck his dick like you were born for it.”
“Deneb IV?” Jim asks sharply, dragging a knuckle across his mouth and hauling himself up to face Gary, who stands in turn. “Are you fucking serious? Is that what this shit is about?”
“What’re you even talking about?” Bones interjects as he gets to his feet. “That was last term.”
“Bones.” Jim’s eyes are hard on Gary’s face. He remembers Deneb IV. A week spent planet-side after a month of Advanced Close-Quarters Combat training drills. Hadn’t seen Bones in ages and couldn’t wait to spend shore leave getting trashed and blowing off some steam. And Gary - well, he’d been there, too. “Just let me handle this.”
“Yes, because you’ve done such a bang-up job of managing the situation far,” Bones says dryly, “betting my dick in a poker game. Thanks for keeping my interests in mind, Jim.”
“What, he didn’t tell you?” Gary smirks darkly, looking at Jim and then Bones. “Figures. Everybody was heading to Deneb for shore leave, and I’d had my eye on your boyfriend here for a while. So one night at the hotel bar I corner him, think I’m going to make a move. Because everybody already knows Kirk will fuck anything if it holds still long enough, so I figure I got a chance, right? But just when I think I got it in the bag, you turn up and Kirk follows you out the door like a fucking puppy. Now I see why.”
“Okay, yeah. You hit on me at the bar - you and half of San Francisco. If you wanted to fuck me, Gary, you should’ve done something about it then.” Jim keeps up the poker-face. He probably would’ve fucked Gary if Bones hadn’t shown up first, but neither of them needs to know that now. “So why don’t you stop being such a total asshole about this and grow the fuck up?”
“And when was that, exactly?” Gary scoffs, closing the distance between him and Jim. “Can’t do much about it when you’ve got his dick in your ass the whole time we’re planet-side.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
Gary just licks his bottom lip. “Could’ve been my dick, you know.”
When Bones’ hand comes up between them to pull Jim back, he barely notices.
“This is completely insane,” he says, and begins to pull Jim towards the door. “C’mon, we’re leaving right now.”
“Yeah, but Kirk still owes me money, you know,” Gary says casually, leaning against the edge of the table. “A lot of money, to be precise. And I can’t just let that slide.”
“Fuck you, Mitchell, you and I both know this isn’t about any goddamn money,” Bones snaps.
He’s already got Jim at the door, hands on him, protective; they could leave and not look back, but they don’t. “Whatever it is you think you can prove to me, I’m not buying.” Taking his earnings from his back pocket he throws them across the room, scattering on the floor at Gary’s feet. “There. Now just go back to whatever rock you slithered out from.”
“That’s only half, McCoy.” The helmsman looks uninterested. “How about whoever wins the next hand gets to fuck Kirk while the other one watches? Sounds fair to me.”
Before Bones has the chance to storm across the room and threaten Gary personally, Jim shrugs his friend’s hand from his arm and gets in his face instead.
“So, what, then we’d all be square, right?” Jim all but sneers, pressing Gary back against the table. “You just hide behind this fucking wager, because you were too chicken-shit to do anything about me before?” He gets Gary by the hips, bringing them together, chest-to-chest. “Is that the best you got?”
Smirking, Gary leans forward to nip at Jim’s mouth, licking his way inside. “I could just bend you over the table, you know. Fuck the credits out of you myself.”
A hand snakes into Gary’s hair and pulls back roughly when Jim gives his bottom lip a bite. Inside his jeans his dick swells despite himself as he greedily sucks on the other man’s tongue, and he feels a little sick inside his swimming head. It’s the alcohol and the testosterone, he assures himself, in some part of his brain that hasn’t been touched by either. It certainly isn’t want, and he promises himself this too.
Turning to look over his shoulder Bones is behind him at the door, face tight in disgust, disappointment, or something else that Jim can’t quite read. It still brings Jim up short like a slap, pushing his way out of Gary’s hold on him. Against the table, the helmsman laughs, and it’s a strangely cold sound.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Kirk,” he chuckles, “I probably wouldn’t fuck you anyway. You’re so hung up on your boyfriend over there, what’s the point?” Sitting back on the tabletop Gary opens his knees and leans back on an outstretched palm, a noticeable hard-on tenting his jeans. “I wouldn’t mind getting that mouth of yours on me, though. I always knew you were good with it, but Jesus.”
Jim’s still breathing too hard and says nothing. Bones steps up behind him and spits, “You’re out of your damned mind,” fists tight at his sides.
“Or.” Gary cants his head knowingly, looking from Bones’ face to his hips and back up again. “How about you fuck Kirk over this table the way you did on shore leave, and I’ll call the three of us square?”
The proposal does nothing to help the erection thrumming stupidly in his jeans, and Jim shakes his head to clear it. He can leave. He knows he can. Just take Bones like he’d told him to and take off, the debts and the wagers be damned.
When he opens his mouth to say “No,” Bones beats him to it.
“Fine.”
“What?” Jim looks at Bones like he’s lost his mind. “You just said you wanted to leave.”
“Yeah, I did. Now I want this over with,” Bones tells him tightly, resignation making lines in his face. “And I’m not leaving you alone with this bastard.”
“Look, Bones,” and Jim finds himself suddenly pleading, “This is my problem, so just go. You don’t need to do this.”
Bones wastes no time. Reaching for Jim he slips his shirt off over his head and drags him forward into a kiss, rough and open.
“This is your fault,” he says, “And I’ll never let you live that down. But for now just shut the hell up.”
From the table, Gary smiles wolfishly. “Don’t spare me the suspense, kids.”
Growling low in his throat, Bones ignores the taunt as he dips his tongue into Jim’s mouth. Despite the sick feeling in his chest Jim opens to the kiss, the easiness of familiarity bringing his hands up to cup Bones’ stubbled jaw and give his bottom lip a soft bite. Rough palms skate over the dips of his chest and ribcage and he moans, disregarding Gary’s leering stare even as it makes his skin hot and his dick twitch.
It’s just sex, Jim tells himself, when Bones licks a hot stripe across his chin and jaw-line, sucking onto Jim’s Adam’s apple the way he does when they’re alone. Like having sex across Jim’s bed in the morning before class, or a quickie in the men’s room of a bar downtown when they’ve had too much to drink. He’s just fucking his best friend, making a fist in his hair and slipping his free hand down the back of Bones’ jeans, squeezing his ass until the doctor rolls his hips forward in a grunt. It’s nothing.
Jim doesn’t see Gary get up, only hears the scrape of table legs on the floor. Looking up Gary comes close to saddle up behind him; hands frame his bare hips and the heat of Gary’s body makes Jim moan unexpectedly.
“You’re awful pretty when you’re being nice.”
Ignoring the warning sound coming from Bones, Gary runs his hands up Jim’s belly and over his chest, thumbing pathways across his sternum and down to his nipples. The touch is teasing, making small peaks of their flat swells and Jim doesn’t mean to lean back to kiss Gary but he does, opening to his tongue with a sigh. Between their mouths and hands Jim’s almost weightless, being pulled and pushed, all rough fingers and sharp teeth.
He hardly takes notice when the rules suddenly change. Without a word Gary’s hold on him drags him back until they both land on the table behind them with an uncomfortable thud, legs creaking under their shared weight. Arms hook under Jim’s to press him to Gary’s chest, his dick digging into his tailbone. Bones peels off his shirt and throws it aside before rifling through the contents of the helmsman’s dresser drawers, to which Gary nods “Middle drawer, on the right.” When Bones comes back it’s palming a small bottle of lube, and when he tilts Jim’s head back to kiss him Jim doesn’t bother questioning it, only begins opening the doctor’s jeans.
Gary’s hands busy themselves with Jim’s fly and his mouth with his shoulder, teething red marks into the thin skin joining his neck. Pulling out his belt, pushing his briefs and pants down, hooking them under his knees and out of the way. Bones pushes Jim’s thighs open, kissing him roughly, all teeth and tongue and Jim doesn’t notice Gary taking the lubricant, uncapping it into his palm. It isn’t until Bones is holding his hips and pulling his knees up around his waist that Jim notices the slick pressure at the cleft of his ass, sliding underneath him until two fingers are rubbing over his hole, and it’s enough to make him grunt and buck uselessly.
“Jesus, Kirk.” Sliding an arm over his shoulder to hold him in place, Gary is practically purring as he works a finger inside of Jim. “You’re tight as a school girl.”
The sounds Jim makes are obscene, spitting out a “Fuck you” between his teeth even as Gary curls a teasing finger, then another, inside of him. Bones keeps him distracted with a nip of teeth in his chin, holding his hips steady, and Jim’s dick digging into his belly as he licks Jim’s mouth. Fingers fill and stretch his hole until Jim relaxes to the hand, letting out an unwanted moan at the sensation before Gary withdraws to fist his soiled fingers around the roots of Jim’s cock instead. The pressure of it makes him grunt and buck despite himself, grasping Gary’s thigh with one hand and Bones’ arm in the other, looking for purchase and finding little.
“I got you,” Bones murmurs thickly against Jim’s mouth, stroking himself to full hardness with oiled fingers. It’s a strangely comforting sound, even under the circumstances, when Bones moves to hold Jim’s hips up in one hand, a knee open in another to nestle the head of his dick between his thighs. “S’just like any other time.”
“Love the pillow-talk,” Gary chuckles into Kirk’s neck, giving his dick a firm squeeze. “I didn’t peg you for the type.”
“I swear to god, Mitchell,” Bones grumbles. Drops a hand between him and Jim, spreads him open with lubed fingers and presses in with a grunt.
The thrust of Bones’ hips is rough, stretching and filling and full. Jim lets out a ragged groan, legs held open, his palms flattening on the table on either side of Gary’s thighs for some sense of balance on the table. The tightness of it, from both the uneasiness of his perch as well as the awkward and rudimentary prep, makes him shift uncomfortably until Bones slides back out. Ducking his head he pulls Jim’s knees apart wider, bites onto his bottom lip and thrusts forward until they both moan.
Fisting his cock Gary locks Jim in place as Bones fucks him. It’s quick and hard, all vinegar and gritted teeth and sharp kisses, and Jim trying to hang on. Beneath them the table creaks and wobbles uncertainly and Jim’s trapped, panting, bucking futilely to the stuttering rhythm of Gary’s hand on his dick while Bones slams home, forcing him back down for every thrust.
The whole thing feels like a mess, tight and fast and careless, with Gary’s arm locked over Jim’s shoulder and his tongue on his pulse. Slick fingers leave his dick, slipping under his balls to his open hole, stretched wide on Bones’ dick and the press of them at the mouth of his entrance makes Jim buck and curse.
When Bones grits his teeth and brings his hips up sharply Gary removes his hand as though slapped. Jim can’t read exactly what’s going on between the other men’s eyes but he can feel it in the possessive snap of Bones’ hip and the low sound Gary makes in the back of his throat, tugging on Jim’s dick firmly like a punctuation mark. Caught between them Jim can only let out a helpless groan, rocking back and forth between the hand of his dick and Bones fucking him, harder and faster, balls slapping softly against the bare flesh of his ass above the scraping sound of the wooden table legs complaining under their shared weight.
It doesn’t take much before a few quick strokes has Jim bucking forward with a whine, coming over Gary’s knuckle and against his stomach in a hot wet stripe. The orgasm shivers over his skin like a cold snap, a dizzy, sick sensation when Gary squeezes his limp dick and kisses him roughly, stealing his lips from Bones. In his haze Jim lets him, opening his mouth to the probe of Gary’s tongue until a hand on his chin jerks his face back and it’s Bones’ tongue instead, fucking his mouth as surely as he does the rest of him. Pinned between them Jim’s slack, panting, fuck-stupid, moaning into kisses that are rough and dirty and full until he isn’t sure who he’s even kissing anymore.
It doesn’t matter, because as Gary teethes bruised half-moons into his throat and squeezes his balls to milk the last of his orgasm, Bones is coming. Slamming home on choked curses that Jim’s only half-sure he’s never heard from him during sex and fucking him to his own completion, feeling every flex of muscle and pull of tendon roll through him like an aftershock.
When it’s over there’s no talking, none of the social pleasantries that Jim’s used to cultivating after sex. It’s unsettling how much he’s come to expect it, the knee-jerk reaction of That good for you? So let me get your number while he pulls his clothes back on and tries to remember where he parked. Or if with Bones, the comfort in sexual familiarity, the occasional rough kiss and the offer of a t-shirt or a wash cloth to clean up with afterwards. Instead Bones doesn’t look at him, only moves away to gather his clothes and look like he’s going to throw up. Gary pushes him away and gets to his feet, a spring in his step, and left to his own devices Jim just leans forward on the table, waiting for his breath to slow and his mouth to stop tingling.
It’s in this span of hard seconds that he notices Gary’s hand on him again, grasping his waist and leaning against his back. Jim’s still loose and clumsy from the sex, and when Gary licks his way down the top of his spine, Jim doesn’t stop him. Not until he feels the stroke of Gary’s thumb down the cleft of his ass. The touch orients him immediately, long before he hears the tell-tale hitch of breath and the press of denim-covered erection against his hip.
There’s the hard packing sound of flesh hitting bone (or maybe bone hitting flesh) and Gary hits the table, then the ground, with a solid thump. When Jim turns to right himself Bones is behind him, blood smeared on the knuckle he’s rubbing sorely. From the ground Gary’s eyes are squeezed shut, hands covering the bloodied nose now running thickly down his top lip.
“The fuck -? ” Seeing the blood, Gary coughs, sputters, “Cheap shot, McCoy.”
“You’re an asshole, Mitchell.” He’s looking at Gary like he’s something just scraped from his boot heel. Jim’s stomach does a weird little flip when Bones looks at him instead. “You okay?”
Nods his head dumbly, and swallows. “Yeah.”
“Good. Now get your clothes on.”
For once in his life, Jim does what he’s told. Pulls his jeans up, laces his boots, finds his shirt. Bones is dressed and gathers up everything that Jim forgets (the wallet that slipped out of his back-pocket, the jacket he’d brought with him) in a tense hurry of motion and is ready at the door within a few short seconds, herding Jim toward it like an errant child. By then Gary sits up to prop himself against a table leg, wiping the blood from his mouth with a grunt. Looking up he aims a smirk to Jim at the door.
“See you around, Kirk.”
The door slides shut behind them, and Jim finds he has nothing to say. Bones’ hand is on his arm, pulling him quickly down the now empty west corridor of the barracks in long, quiet strides. Until, trying to keep pace, Jim speaks up.
“I think you broke his nose.”
“Probably not,” Bones answers firmly, not missing a step. “Wanted to, though.”
“So.” Jim’s throat suddenly feels dry, and he coughs to clear it. “Um, look. About what happened back there -”
“We’re not talking about it. But if you pull anything like that again, I’m going to put my boot right up your ass. And then I’m going to leave your sorry drunk ass there for Gary.”
Jim’s mouth snaps shut again. “Okay.”
Making their way back to their room on the other side of the barracks, quiet save the footfalls of their heavy boots, they don’t talk about it and it’s okay as it’s ever going to be. And when they see Gary Mitchell at assembly in the morning, nose swollen under the bandage, Bones’ hands will make fists at his sides and Jim will just nod like nothing’s changed.
From the other side of the assembly room Gary won’t look at them long. He’ll just glance up, and smirk like quicksilver out of the corner of Jim’s eye.
*hides under the couch*
Title: Poker-Face
Author: eonism
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just here for the lulz.
Characters/Pairings: Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy/Gary Mitchell (Star Trek XI)
Word Count: 5,632
Warnings: Threesome, potential dubious consent issues
Author's notes: Written for tokyoghoststory. Beta'd by tracker_lucifer, who held my hand every step of the way. Any other mistakes are my own.
Summary: It starts four beers in, when Jim Kirk’s fresh out of poker chips and three-hundred credits in the hole.
It starts four beers in, when Jim Kirk’s fresh out of poker chips and three-hundred credits in the hole.
They’re all sitting in Gary Mitchell’s dorm, Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy and Gary, at the table he’d managed to cram into the corner of the room. San Francisco had felt peculiarly small for a Friday night. Downtown hadn’t been offering anything better than the promise of a few beers anyway, so when Gary offered a few six-packs of Mexican beer, a few hands of poker, and use of his roommate-free living space, there was no reason to say no. Jim had known Gary for a while, mostly from cadet bars and parties off campus, when Bones was cramming for a test or (god forbid) going home early. He was good for a beer and a laughs, if nothing else, with his broad smile and extensive collection of dirty jokes.
When asked if his roommate would mind the intrusion, Gary just shrugged, and waved the six-pack temptingly. “Nah, he took off for the weekend, like always,” he said. “That Weaver kid’s too uptight for his own good.”
Not that Jim had remembered ever actually seeing that Weaver kid, especially not in the dorms. The story that Mitchell, a generally decent guy and navigator from Eldman, if Jim’s memory served, liked to play games with his roommates’ heads went on as an unsubstantiated (but generally accepted) rumor. A few beers and a handful of poker chips later, the only thing about Gary Mitchell that put Jim Kirk on edge was the fact that he was better at cards than him.
Gary’s on the other side of the table, a fat stack of chips in his corner and a firm hand on his cards. “Raise,” he says, and throws three chips into the pot.
Bones looks unimpressed. “Call,” and he does, cherry-tip glowing when he takes a slow drag of his menthol cigarette. He never smokes any more, except for when he’s playing poker or has just gotten bad news.
Between them Jim shrugs, and tries not to look like he’s totally bust. “Raise.”
“Raise what, dipshit?” Gary chuckles darkly around the mouth of his bottle when he takes a swallow of beer. “I’ve got your chips and McCoy already has all your money.”
“You’re pretty much up shit creek, kid,” Bones agrees, and not without a certain edge of satisfaction, despite the poker-face and third glass of bourbon. “Might as well just sit this one out before you end up any further in debt.”
“Or go out for some more beer,” Gary chimes.
“Look, you know what, fuck both of you,” Jim insists. “Have neither of you ladies never heard of gambling before? I’ll just wager something else, so shut up and worry about yourselves.”
Gary sits up. “Wager what?”
Lifting his glass for a drink, Bones rolls his eyes. “Forget it. Jim doesn’t own anything you’d want, except a stash of old Hustler’s under his mattress and all the shit he’s stolen from me.”
“Fuck you too, Bones.”
“What about your bike?” Gary asks.
Jim looks appalled. “And fuck you too, Gary. Not my bike. You couldn’t handle her anyway.”
“Well shit, Kirk.” Bones stubs out his cigarette, cards left face-down on the table. “It’s not like you have anything else.”
“Bones -”
“How ‘bout if you lose this hand,” Gary proposes, “you shine my boots for the week. Or you have to run around the quad naked during assembly tomorrow.”
“Oh, that he’d do for free.”
“Bones, seriously.”
“What about a week’s pay?”
“What, on top of the week’s pay you already stole from me?” Jim scoffs. “Yeah. Right. Keep going.”
“Well then what is it going to be, Kirk?” Gary looks ridiculously smug, and it kind of pisses Jim off. “If you don’t have anything, fold now and get out of the way.”
Looking to his left, Bones is giving him the face. The You’re an idiot and you can’t be helped but that’s okay face that tells him to sit this one out. Instead, Jim licks his bottom lip and lifts his brow coolly.
“Name it,” he says. “Whatever you want. If I lose this hand, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”
Across the table, Gary smirks slowly.
“Jim, you can’t be serious,” Bones cuts in. “You’re bust, just sit it out.”
Leaning back in his chair, Gary examines Jim carefully. Bones doesn’t like the look of it. Jim just tilts his head and waits.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.” Gary purses his lips. “Anything? As in?”
“Whatever you want.” Leaning forward, Jim lays his cards down on the table and looks at him hard. “So what’s it gonna be, Mitchell?”
“Jim, seriously,” Bones insists, “Don’t be stupid. Just sit it out.”
“You lose this hand,” Gary says, and smiles, “and you have to give McCoy here a blowjob.”
“Excuse me?” Beside Jim, Bones all but barks. “You’re out of your fucking mind, Mitchell. Jim, don’t listen to him -”
“Right here,” Gary drawls out, “right now.”
“Fine,” Jim agrees.
Gary smirks. Bones’ face burns red on a snarl.
“Are you kidding me?” Making motion to stand, Bones pushes his chair back. “You two want to humiliate each other for money? Knock yourselves out, but I’m not having any part of it.”
“Bones, sit down.” Catching the doctor by the sleeve, Jim pulls him back to his seat. “Stop being such a drama queen.”
“And fuck you especially, Jim,” Bones tells him, in the slow firm tone he would take with a small child or a disobedient dog. “Because you’re completely insane if you think I’m playing along with this.”
“Yeah, but c’mon - I know Gary,” Jim dismisses, and looks at the other man disarmingly. “Like he’s serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious,” Gary chuckles, and brings his beer up for a sip. “C’mon. It’s not like everybody doesn’t already know that you two are blowing each other anyway. You can’t cover your tracks for shit.”
So they do blow each other. They did other things, too. Fucking clumsily in their dorm room when they’d been out drinking all night, or the occasional handjob in the shower, just because Jim can and Bones lets him get away with it. Jim still chased girls and Bones was still his best friend, and the sex didn’t mean anything if it didn’t have to. Still it doesn’t stop the embarrassed redness from creeping to Bones’ face or keep Jim’s stomach from doing that weird little flip when Gary says it out loud, smirking the way that he is.
“Fuck you, Mitchell,” Bones growls, “You can get your rocks off somewhere else.”
When Gary’s smile doesn’t falter, Jim knows it definitely pisses him off.
“Fine. And if I win this hand?”
“Then I don’t take any more of your money. I think that’s pretty fair, all things considered.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind Jim knows he’s going to regret this in the morning. Maybe it’s his pride or maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the three-hundred credits and whatever else in chips that he’s just pissed away on ten bad hands. Whatever it is, even the look on Bones’ face doesn’t keep him from saying, “Deal.”
“Good,” Gary’s smile broadens and he picks up his cards. “Deal.”
The both of them look at Bones, who’s still fuming silently between them. After a hard moment he lets out a sigh, reaches for his glass, and downs the last of its contents in one swallow.
“You better have one fucking great hand, Jim,” he says, shaking his head and reaching for his cards. “Because I swear, if you don’t…”
“Bones.” Jim offers him an appeasing look and takes up his cards, rearranging them calmly. “Relax. I got this.”
The doctor shakes his head. The helmsman looks entirely too certain for his own good. Between them Jim just puts up his best poker-face.
“Ladies,” he says. “Are we playing or what?”
Bones huffs out a breath as he lays his eights and sixes down. “Two pairs.” Reaching for the bottle of bourbon he pours himself another glass and shakes his head. “You’d better fucking beat me, kid.”
“Flush,” Jim shows his hand on the table, “all spades.” Eying Gary, he offers him a smile. “Next.”
Gary doesn’t flinch. “Four of a kind.”
When he lays his four queens down, Jim’s stomach drops. There was no getting out of this now.
“I think you owe the good doctor here a little visit.”
“That’s it.” Planting his palms on the table, Bones pushes his chair back to stand. “I’m leaving. You two can suck each other off for all I care - I’m not playing into your shared psychosis anymore.”
Collecting the chips in the center of the table, Gary hums contentedly in the back of his throat. “Your friend here still owes me money,” he says, arranging his winnings into neat little stacks, “and since you just agreed to the wager, I say you’re both on the hook on this one.”
Bones’ face tightens into a scowl. “You know what you can do with your money, Mitchell?”
“Bones.” Jim stands. Leaning out to touch the doctor’s arm, he reaches for the glass of bourbon and tips it back in a swallow. “Look, fuck him, alright? He wants a show? Fine, give him a show.”
The line of Bones’ brow softens. “Jim, you can’t be serious.”
A rush from the alcohol’s slow burn makes Jim’s head buzz and his belly warm. “C’mere.” He comes around the table, pressing on Bones’ shoulder to urge him to sit back down. The line of his mouth lifts. “It’s just a blowjob, right?”
“Jim.” Bones’ voice takes a rough edge, punctuated by the dark look that settles in his eyes when Jim touches him. “Look, we’ve been drinking all night; you lost some money and you said some shit you don’t mean. It’s just a fucking bet, Jim - you don’t have to do this.”
Jim silences him with a kiss, all teeth and tongue, pushing Bones back until he gives in and drops into his chair. Bracing his hands on Bones’ shoulders Jim straddles him, dipping his tongue between his lips and sliding his fingers into his hair until the stiffness in his limbs begins to melt into consent. Hands grip his waist through his jeans and Bones let out a sigh into the kiss, half-stifled and half-swallowed, and as he shakes his head Jim licks the arch of the doctor’s top lip and murmurs.
“Maybe I want to.”
When Jim opens his eyes Gary’s watching them. Leaning forward from his perch at the other side of the table, gaze hard, mouth tight. He betrays nothing but passing interest, fingers loose around the neck of his bottle of now-warm beer. Bones closes his eyes and turns his head, stubbled cheeks grazing with a reflexive squeeze of Jim’s ass in his lap, but Jim never looks away from Gary.
The bastard wants a show, right?
Sliding down Bones’ body Jim gets down to his knees on the floor, sitting between the doctor’s thighs with a slow stroke over the tops of them through the denim of his jeans. There’s a growing bulge under his fly, making Bones’ face flush from something besides the alcohol. He’s pissed (and reasonably so), but still hot for it. Watching as he bites his lip under the knit of his brow, Jim doesn’t have to fake the way his breath begins to thin when he can feel the heat of Bones’ body through his clothes. Giving Gary a sidelong glance Jim undoes Bones’ jeans and pulls him out, fingers circling the base of his cock in a few short strokes.
Feeling it thrum in his hand, Jim lets the free one idle on Bones’ thigh and listens to his breathing hitch. Across the table a smirk spreads on Gary’s face, but the cup of Bones’ hands on his neck brings Jim’s attention back to him and the lidded frustration in his eyes.
“You’re like a couple of women over there,” Gary chuckles, and takes a sip of his beer. “Are you actually going to suck it or what?”
“Fuck you, Mitchell,” Bones practically spits. “Keep cracking jokes over there and I swear I’ll put my boot in your ass.”
“Hey,” Jim murmurs. “Fuck him. Eyes on me, alright?”
When Bones sucks in a breath and nods, Jim strokes down the length of his dick and licks his head, teasing across the slit and behind the crown. Licking him until he’s completely hard Jim closes his lips around Bones and sucks down, and for it his best friend grunts raggedly. Fingers tug at his hair and Jim can feels Bones’ eyes on him with every dip of his head, seeking out the right amount of wetness and pressure that he knows from practice makes the doctor’s balls tight and his dick throb between Jim’s lips. When he finds it, Bones flexes his hips and closes his eyes on a moan.
Gary’s no longer smirking when Jim looks over. Instead there’s a tight look on his face, a hand on his thigh, fingers brushing the seam of his crotch. Leaning back Jim gives Bones’ dick a slow lick from root to tip, earning him a pull of his hair and a sharp buck in turn, and circling the head with his tongue smirks around it. It makes Gary’s breath catch in a hitch he can’t cover up, and Jim isn’t too proud to admit that he’s getting a little hard. Inwardly he’s glad that Bones isn’t watching all this, and opens his mouth wider. It takes a little finesse but he sucks his friend down, as far as his gag reflex takes him, until his blunt head brushes the back of his throat.
“You two are pretty fucking hot together.” There’s a soft, almost wistful, laughter in Gary’s voice. “I should’ve known.”
“Should’ve known what?” Bones grits out, hands making fists in Jim’s hair as he teeters on the edge of orgasm.
“That you two were really fucking.”
Jim’s stomach does a sick little flip. Bones means to say something but comes first, with a choked curse and a hot splash in the back of Jim’s throat. When Bones sags against the chair Jim coughs and swallows it, licks his lips and pulls away as the doctor quickly tucks himself back into his jeans.
There was always something a little off about Gary, that Jim had never really taken into consideration before. He was always just a little too lucky and a little too good at cards for his own good. Sometimes at a bar or from across the table it was like he was staring at Jim, without even really looking at him, like a wet glimmer of silver in Jim’s peripheral that made him look twice in the other man’s direction. And Gary would just smirk a little bit, raise his bottle or glass, and never say a word of it.
Bones was right. They should’ve left.
“I figured it out after Deneb IV, but had to see it for myself,” Gary says, and sounds pleased with himself. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for it. But fuck, Kirk, you just suck his dick like you were born for it.”
“Deneb IV?” Jim asks sharply, dragging a knuckle across his mouth and hauling himself up to face Gary, who stands in turn. “Are you fucking serious? Is that what this shit is about?”
“What’re you even talking about?” Bones interjects as he gets to his feet. “That was last term.”
“Bones.” Jim’s eyes are hard on Gary’s face. He remembers Deneb IV. A week spent planet-side after a month of Advanced Close-Quarters Combat training drills. Hadn’t seen Bones in ages and couldn’t wait to spend shore leave getting trashed and blowing off some steam. And Gary - well, he’d been there, too. “Just let me handle this.”
“Yes, because you’ve done such a bang-up job of managing the situation far,” Bones says dryly, “betting my dick in a poker game. Thanks for keeping my interests in mind, Jim.”
“What, he didn’t tell you?” Gary smirks darkly, looking at Jim and then Bones. “Figures. Everybody was heading to Deneb for shore leave, and I’d had my eye on your boyfriend here for a while. So one night at the hotel bar I corner him, think I’m going to make a move. Because everybody already knows Kirk will fuck anything if it holds still long enough, so I figure I got a chance, right? But just when I think I got it in the bag, you turn up and Kirk follows you out the door like a fucking puppy. Now I see why.”
“Okay, yeah. You hit on me at the bar - you and half of San Francisco. If you wanted to fuck me, Gary, you should’ve done something about it then.” Jim keeps up the poker-face. He probably would’ve fucked Gary if Bones hadn’t shown up first, but neither of them needs to know that now. “So why don’t you stop being such a total asshole about this and grow the fuck up?”
“And when was that, exactly?” Gary scoffs, closing the distance between him and Jim. “Can’t do much about it when you’ve got his dick in your ass the whole time we’re planet-side.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
Gary just licks his bottom lip. “Could’ve been my dick, you know.”
When Bones’ hand comes up between them to pull Jim back, he barely notices.
“This is completely insane,” he says, and begins to pull Jim towards the door. “C’mon, we’re leaving right now.”
“Yeah, but Kirk still owes me money, you know,” Gary says casually, leaning against the edge of the table. “A lot of money, to be precise. And I can’t just let that slide.”
“Fuck you, Mitchell, you and I both know this isn’t about any goddamn money,” Bones snaps.
He’s already got Jim at the door, hands on him, protective; they could leave and not look back, but they don’t. “Whatever it is you think you can prove to me, I’m not buying.” Taking his earnings from his back pocket he throws them across the room, scattering on the floor at Gary’s feet. “There. Now just go back to whatever rock you slithered out from.”
“That’s only half, McCoy.” The helmsman looks uninterested. “How about whoever wins the next hand gets to fuck Kirk while the other one watches? Sounds fair to me.”
Before Bones has the chance to storm across the room and threaten Gary personally, Jim shrugs his friend’s hand from his arm and gets in his face instead.
“So, what, then we’d all be square, right?” Jim all but sneers, pressing Gary back against the table. “You just hide behind this fucking wager, because you were too chicken-shit to do anything about me before?” He gets Gary by the hips, bringing them together, chest-to-chest. “Is that the best you got?”
Smirking, Gary leans forward to nip at Jim’s mouth, licking his way inside. “I could just bend you over the table, you know. Fuck the credits out of you myself.”
A hand snakes into Gary’s hair and pulls back roughly when Jim gives his bottom lip a bite. Inside his jeans his dick swells despite himself as he greedily sucks on the other man’s tongue, and he feels a little sick inside his swimming head. It’s the alcohol and the testosterone, he assures himself, in some part of his brain that hasn’t been touched by either. It certainly isn’t want, and he promises himself this too.
Turning to look over his shoulder Bones is behind him at the door, face tight in disgust, disappointment, or something else that Jim can’t quite read. It still brings Jim up short like a slap, pushing his way out of Gary’s hold on him. Against the table, the helmsman laughs, and it’s a strangely cold sound.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Kirk,” he chuckles, “I probably wouldn’t fuck you anyway. You’re so hung up on your boyfriend over there, what’s the point?” Sitting back on the tabletop Gary opens his knees and leans back on an outstretched palm, a noticeable hard-on tenting his jeans. “I wouldn’t mind getting that mouth of yours on me, though. I always knew you were good with it, but Jesus.”
Jim’s still breathing too hard and says nothing. Bones steps up behind him and spits, “You’re out of your damned mind,” fists tight at his sides.
“Or.” Gary cants his head knowingly, looking from Bones’ face to his hips and back up again. “How about you fuck Kirk over this table the way you did on shore leave, and I’ll call the three of us square?”
The proposal does nothing to help the erection thrumming stupidly in his jeans, and Jim shakes his head to clear it. He can leave. He knows he can. Just take Bones like he’d told him to and take off, the debts and the wagers be damned.
When he opens his mouth to say “No,” Bones beats him to it.
“Fine.”
“What?” Jim looks at Bones like he’s lost his mind. “You just said you wanted to leave.”
“Yeah, I did. Now I want this over with,” Bones tells him tightly, resignation making lines in his face. “And I’m not leaving you alone with this bastard.”
“Look, Bones,” and Jim finds himself suddenly pleading, “This is my problem, so just go. You don’t need to do this.”
Bones wastes no time. Reaching for Jim he slips his shirt off over his head and drags him forward into a kiss, rough and open.
“This is your fault,” he says, “And I’ll never let you live that down. But for now just shut the hell up.”
From the table, Gary smiles wolfishly. “Don’t spare me the suspense, kids.”
Growling low in his throat, Bones ignores the taunt as he dips his tongue into Jim’s mouth. Despite the sick feeling in his chest Jim opens to the kiss, the easiness of familiarity bringing his hands up to cup Bones’ stubbled jaw and give his bottom lip a soft bite. Rough palms skate over the dips of his chest and ribcage and he moans, disregarding Gary’s leering stare even as it makes his skin hot and his dick twitch.
It’s just sex, Jim tells himself, when Bones licks a hot stripe across his chin and jaw-line, sucking onto Jim’s Adam’s apple the way he does when they’re alone. Like having sex across Jim’s bed in the morning before class, or a quickie in the men’s room of a bar downtown when they’ve had too much to drink. He’s just fucking his best friend, making a fist in his hair and slipping his free hand down the back of Bones’ jeans, squeezing his ass until the doctor rolls his hips forward in a grunt. It’s nothing.
Jim doesn’t see Gary get up, only hears the scrape of table legs on the floor. Looking up Gary comes close to saddle up behind him; hands frame his bare hips and the heat of Gary’s body makes Jim moan unexpectedly.
“You’re awful pretty when you’re being nice.”
Ignoring the warning sound coming from Bones, Gary runs his hands up Jim’s belly and over his chest, thumbing pathways across his sternum and down to his nipples. The touch is teasing, making small peaks of their flat swells and Jim doesn’t mean to lean back to kiss Gary but he does, opening to his tongue with a sigh. Between their mouths and hands Jim’s almost weightless, being pulled and pushed, all rough fingers and sharp teeth.
He hardly takes notice when the rules suddenly change. Without a word Gary’s hold on him drags him back until they both land on the table behind them with an uncomfortable thud, legs creaking under their shared weight. Arms hook under Jim’s to press him to Gary’s chest, his dick digging into his tailbone. Bones peels off his shirt and throws it aside before rifling through the contents of the helmsman’s dresser drawers, to which Gary nods “Middle drawer, on the right.” When Bones comes back it’s palming a small bottle of lube, and when he tilts Jim’s head back to kiss him Jim doesn’t bother questioning it, only begins opening the doctor’s jeans.
Gary’s hands busy themselves with Jim’s fly and his mouth with his shoulder, teething red marks into the thin skin joining his neck. Pulling out his belt, pushing his briefs and pants down, hooking them under his knees and out of the way. Bones pushes Jim’s thighs open, kissing him roughly, all teeth and tongue and Jim doesn’t notice Gary taking the lubricant, uncapping it into his palm. It isn’t until Bones is holding his hips and pulling his knees up around his waist that Jim notices the slick pressure at the cleft of his ass, sliding underneath him until two fingers are rubbing over his hole, and it’s enough to make him grunt and buck uselessly.
“Jesus, Kirk.” Sliding an arm over his shoulder to hold him in place, Gary is practically purring as he works a finger inside of Jim. “You’re tight as a school girl.”
The sounds Jim makes are obscene, spitting out a “Fuck you” between his teeth even as Gary curls a teasing finger, then another, inside of him. Bones keeps him distracted with a nip of teeth in his chin, holding his hips steady, and Jim’s dick digging into his belly as he licks Jim’s mouth. Fingers fill and stretch his hole until Jim relaxes to the hand, letting out an unwanted moan at the sensation before Gary withdraws to fist his soiled fingers around the roots of Jim’s cock instead. The pressure of it makes him grunt and buck despite himself, grasping Gary’s thigh with one hand and Bones’ arm in the other, looking for purchase and finding little.
“I got you,” Bones murmurs thickly against Jim’s mouth, stroking himself to full hardness with oiled fingers. It’s a strangely comforting sound, even under the circumstances, when Bones moves to hold Jim’s hips up in one hand, a knee open in another to nestle the head of his dick between his thighs. “S’just like any other time.”
“Love the pillow-talk,” Gary chuckles into Kirk’s neck, giving his dick a firm squeeze. “I didn’t peg you for the type.”
“I swear to god, Mitchell,” Bones grumbles. Drops a hand between him and Jim, spreads him open with lubed fingers and presses in with a grunt.
The thrust of Bones’ hips is rough, stretching and filling and full. Jim lets out a ragged groan, legs held open, his palms flattening on the table on either side of Gary’s thighs for some sense of balance on the table. The tightness of it, from both the uneasiness of his perch as well as the awkward and rudimentary prep, makes him shift uncomfortably until Bones slides back out. Ducking his head he pulls Jim’s knees apart wider, bites onto his bottom lip and thrusts forward until they both moan.
Fisting his cock Gary locks Jim in place as Bones fucks him. It’s quick and hard, all vinegar and gritted teeth and sharp kisses, and Jim trying to hang on. Beneath them the table creaks and wobbles uncertainly and Jim’s trapped, panting, bucking futilely to the stuttering rhythm of Gary’s hand on his dick while Bones slams home, forcing him back down for every thrust.
The whole thing feels like a mess, tight and fast and careless, with Gary’s arm locked over Jim’s shoulder and his tongue on his pulse. Slick fingers leave his dick, slipping under his balls to his open hole, stretched wide on Bones’ dick and the press of them at the mouth of his entrance makes Jim buck and curse.
When Bones grits his teeth and brings his hips up sharply Gary removes his hand as though slapped. Jim can’t read exactly what’s going on between the other men’s eyes but he can feel it in the possessive snap of Bones’ hip and the low sound Gary makes in the back of his throat, tugging on Jim’s dick firmly like a punctuation mark. Caught between them Jim can only let out a helpless groan, rocking back and forth between the hand of his dick and Bones fucking him, harder and faster, balls slapping softly against the bare flesh of his ass above the scraping sound of the wooden table legs complaining under their shared weight.
It doesn’t take much before a few quick strokes has Jim bucking forward with a whine, coming over Gary’s knuckle and against his stomach in a hot wet stripe. The orgasm shivers over his skin like a cold snap, a dizzy, sick sensation when Gary squeezes his limp dick and kisses him roughly, stealing his lips from Bones. In his haze Jim lets him, opening his mouth to the probe of Gary’s tongue until a hand on his chin jerks his face back and it’s Bones’ tongue instead, fucking his mouth as surely as he does the rest of him. Pinned between them Jim’s slack, panting, fuck-stupid, moaning into kisses that are rough and dirty and full until he isn’t sure who he’s even kissing anymore.
It doesn’t matter, because as Gary teethes bruised half-moons into his throat and squeezes his balls to milk the last of his orgasm, Bones is coming. Slamming home on choked curses that Jim’s only half-sure he’s never heard from him during sex and fucking him to his own completion, feeling every flex of muscle and pull of tendon roll through him like an aftershock.
When it’s over there’s no talking, none of the social pleasantries that Jim’s used to cultivating after sex. It’s unsettling how much he’s come to expect it, the knee-jerk reaction of That good for you? So let me get your number while he pulls his clothes back on and tries to remember where he parked. Or if with Bones, the comfort in sexual familiarity, the occasional rough kiss and the offer of a t-shirt or a wash cloth to clean up with afterwards. Instead Bones doesn’t look at him, only moves away to gather his clothes and look like he’s going to throw up. Gary pushes him away and gets to his feet, a spring in his step, and left to his own devices Jim just leans forward on the table, waiting for his breath to slow and his mouth to stop tingling.
It’s in this span of hard seconds that he notices Gary’s hand on him again, grasping his waist and leaning against his back. Jim’s still loose and clumsy from the sex, and when Gary licks his way down the top of his spine, Jim doesn’t stop him. Not until he feels the stroke of Gary’s thumb down the cleft of his ass. The touch orients him immediately, long before he hears the tell-tale hitch of breath and the press of denim-covered erection against his hip.
There’s the hard packing sound of flesh hitting bone (or maybe bone hitting flesh) and Gary hits the table, then the ground, with a solid thump. When Jim turns to right himself Bones is behind him, blood smeared on the knuckle he’s rubbing sorely. From the ground Gary’s eyes are squeezed shut, hands covering the bloodied nose now running thickly down his top lip.
“The fuck -? ” Seeing the blood, Gary coughs, sputters, “Cheap shot, McCoy.”
“You’re an asshole, Mitchell.” He’s looking at Gary like he’s something just scraped from his boot heel. Jim’s stomach does a weird little flip when Bones looks at him instead. “You okay?”
Nods his head dumbly, and swallows. “Yeah.”
“Good. Now get your clothes on.”
For once in his life, Jim does what he’s told. Pulls his jeans up, laces his boots, finds his shirt. Bones is dressed and gathers up everything that Jim forgets (the wallet that slipped out of his back-pocket, the jacket he’d brought with him) in a tense hurry of motion and is ready at the door within a few short seconds, herding Jim toward it like an errant child. By then Gary sits up to prop himself against a table leg, wiping the blood from his mouth with a grunt. Looking up he aims a smirk to Jim at the door.
“See you around, Kirk.”
The door slides shut behind them, and Jim finds he has nothing to say. Bones’ hand is on his arm, pulling him quickly down the now empty west corridor of the barracks in long, quiet strides. Until, trying to keep pace, Jim speaks up.
“I think you broke his nose.”
“Probably not,” Bones answers firmly, not missing a step. “Wanted to, though.”
“So.” Jim’s throat suddenly feels dry, and he coughs to clear it. “Um, look. About what happened back there -”
“We’re not talking about it. But if you pull anything like that again, I’m going to put my boot right up your ass. And then I’m going to leave your sorry drunk ass there for Gary.”
Jim’s mouth snaps shut again. “Okay.”
Making their way back to their room on the other side of the barracks, quiet save the footfalls of their heavy boots, they don’t talk about it and it’s okay as it’s ever going to be. And when they see Gary Mitchell at assembly in the morning, nose swollen under the bandage, Bones’ hands will make fists at his sides and Jim will just nod like nothing’s changed.
From the other side of the assembly room Gary won’t look at them long. He’ll just glance up, and smirk like quicksilver out of the corner of Jim’s eye.
*hides under the couch*