Mistake Worth Making
Title: Mistake Worth Making
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 2000
Warnings: this is pretty smutty, but I'm not sure that the smut is all that pretty. (See, this is why I suck at making jokes.) Also, this is unbetaed; I'm so very sorry about mistakes. Possible miscsquick.
Summary: “We can still have tonight, though,” he whispers hoarsely, like he’s running a fever. “Can we have tonight, Bones?”
Notes: Written for blue_jack's Birthday. I hope you'll like it, bb, or at least don't shoot me if you don't. I hope? :)
When Leonard notices that Jim isn’t in Pike’s living room anymore and goes to investigate, he doesn’t expect to find him chain smoking on the back porch. He watches as Jim flicks another stub away with his finger; it whirls in a broken scarlet half-circle before the descending night swallows it clean.
“Jim?”
Jim doesn’t turn, just treats Leonard to a wry smile that contorts his profile. “S’okay, Bones.”
He doesn’t sound okay, though, and Leonard frowns. Jim usually likes their little get togethers in Pike’s house. He should be inside right now, instead of letting Spock have the floor. At the very least, he should be in the kitchen with Scotty and Chekov, injecting watermelons with vodka, or whatever it is they usually do to get everyone smashed.
Instead, Jim is standing here alone, staring at the almost invisible horizon, and there’s not much to see in Mojave except for the desert.
Tentatively, Leonard takes a step closer.
“It’s a good life,” Jim says casually, with a thoughtful tint to his tone that makes it sound like he’s parting with some hard earned wisdom.
Leonard freezes.
He hasn’t forgotten the last time Jim said those words. He still has nightmares about it.
All too clearly, Leonard can see Spock materializing on the transporter pad on his knees, arms wrapped around the captain who’s bleeding all over the place, arms and legs jerking in reflexive, aborted motions, head dripping back helplessly. Jim’s eyes are wide and almost black, and he should have passed out hours ago, but of course he’s conscious and talking - talking, dammit - coughing around mouthfuls of blood, as he stares at Leonard.
‘Good life, Bones.’ His body is seizing in convulsions, but he stubbornly pushes the words out. ‘Been a good life.’
Leonard shakes himself mentally, focusing on the present.
Jim is watching him now with a soft, understanding smile, as if he knows exactly what Leonard is thinking.
“Do you believe I’ll end up like Pike?”
Surrounded by family and friends, cracking a little around the edges, but happy goes unspoken.
Leonard stares into Jim’s eyes helplessly, because he can’t look away and he can’t lie.
No, Leonard doesn’t believe in that. Jim is too reckless and too careless and values his life too little if at all. He’ll end up tortured to death in some Klingon prison, or staying behind to protect his crew, or doing some other stupidly heroic stuff no one else seems to be able to shoulder.
Pike knew that when he goaded Jim into joining Starfleet; knew that Jim was one of a kind. Sometimes Leonard wants to punch Pike in the face for that, because greatness comes with a price, and Jim will pay for it with his life sooner or later. Jim doesn’t understand what a cautious bet is and doesn’t know how to fold.
He doesn’t say anything.
Jim nods slowly, sympathetically, and steps closer, resting a hand on Leonard’s shoulder. Leonard can’t help drawing in a deeper breath instinctively, tasting the faint smell of tobacco curling in the sandy strands of Jim’s hair.
Jim moves in even closer, his voice dropping to an intimate, almost gentle timbre. “Just in case you ever wondered, Bones. This is why.”
Leonard’s breath catches in his throat, eyes fluttering closed then snapping wide open, and Jim is leaning in closer as if he’s going to - and then he’s pulling away and turns to go.
Leonard doesn’t know he’s moving until he is, halting Jim in his tracks, arms slipping around Jim’s waist, locking him in place. Jim stills.
“Bones, don’t.”
This is what death must feel like, Leonard thinks. The inevitability of it; the helplessness. It’s the hardest thing he has ever done in his life - letting Jim go.
Watching Jim leave for his dates at the Academy - ‘Don’t wait up, Bones.’
Watching him beam down into traps on unexplored planets, and then being hauled back up to the ship on his shield - ‘Didn’t I order you not to wait up?’
Letting Jim go now, knowing that they will never come back to this point again, that everything will be forgotten and business as usual, until that day one day when Jim probably won’t even get the chance to say, ‘It was a good life, Bones’ - it’s too painful to fully register with Leonard’s mind just now.
He unclasps his hands mechanically, and watches as Jim takes one step toward the door, then another, and another.
Jim stops with his hand on the doorknob, and his silhouette wavers for a moment as if he’s shivering. Or maybe Leonard’s vision is too blurry to see straight.
Jim turns around finally, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. “We can still have tonight, though,” he whispers hoarsely, like he’s running a fever. “Can we have tonight, Bones?”
Leonard makes some kind of wild, indescribable noise in his throat, and Jim’s head snaps up, eyes bright and burning.
“It’s not too much to ask,” Jim mutters, advancing on Leonard, staring at the rapidly darkening sky as if expecting it to talk back. “Just one night, and I... Just once-”
Leonard’s brain is still trying to cling to Jim’s words, seeking sense, but it’s too late, light years too late, because Jim’s lips descend on his, greedy, hungry, desperate, eliminating reason.
He pushes Leonard up against the back wall, hands clawing at his clothes, trying to get to skin, as Jim plunders his mouth like he’s never kissed anyone before, like he’s never going to again.
Leonard’s hands slide to cup Jim’s ass, and he brings them flush against each other, forcing a guttural growl out of Jim. He isn’t wearing a belt, so Leonard slides his hands under the waistband of Jim’s jeans and briefs without a hitch, his fingers scraping the smooth skin, digging into firm muscles, and Jim moans, drowning the sound in Leonard’s mouth, and ruts helplessly against him, his cock straining to spring out.
There’s a tiny persistent voice in Leonard’s head telling him to slow down, to savor the moment that will never repeat itself, but he can’t listen to it, can’t comply. His hands roam freely over Jim’s ass, groping and kneading, and then his finger finds Jim’s entrance and circles it teasingly, before the very tip slips in, slick with sweat. Jim’s whole body spasms, like he’s being electrocuted, and he bites down on Leonard’s lip hard enough to draw blood.
What little presence of mind Leonard still had snaps with a blast, and he flips them around, swearing and pushing Jim face first against the wall, jerking his jeans down to pool around Jim’s ankles. Jim mewls lowly in approval, wiggling his hips like he has no control over his body, rolling them against the smooth surface of the wall as if he doesn’t even know what shame is.
Leonard doesn’t know exactly when he pushed his own pants down, he only knows the wet slide of his cock between Jim’s cheeks, and it's making him stupid, like he was born without a brain, like there is nothing else in existence except for this, and for the way Jim cants his hips to meet him.
It’s good, so fucking good, but not enough, and Jim’s broken voice cuts through the haze of lust in a torturous dragging motion.
“Bones... back pocket.”
Leonard doesn’t even think, just reaches down, mouthing at Jim’s ass as he fumbles with his jeans until he finds a small tube.
Jim keens above him and spreads his legs wider, as Leonard licks down his cleft, while his hands fight with the cap. The cheesy bright scent of oranges fills the air, and Leonard would have rolled his eyes, if he wasn’t otherwise occupied, because of course the son of a bitch is carrying sunscreen.
“Bones,” Jim pushes out breathlessly, shuddering all over. “Come on. Please.”
Leonard straightens up and thrusts against him roughly in retaliation, driving Jim into the wall, obscenities spilling from his lips like an avalanche.
He fingers Jim’s hole, but Jim shakes his head, coordination screwed up to hell, running on determination only.
“No, don’t,” Jim whispers. “Wanna feel it. Wanna... uh, Christ, wanna remember.”
Leonard grits his teeth, but slicks himself and grips Jim’s hips tightly, as Jim braces himself against the wall.
“Do it,” Jim whines. “Please, please, please, Bones, just do it.”
Leonard thrusts into him without warning, startling Jim into a broken gasp. He pushes just the head in and stills, stretching Jim, and it must burn as fuck, but Leonard doesn’t relent, not even when Jim lets out a breath he has been holding with a ragged, torn stream of sounds.
“I don’t want one night, Jim,” Leonard hisses fiercely into his ear, and drives all the way home abruptly, slapping his free hand over Jim’s mouth just in time to stifle his scream.
Jim’s hands curl against the wall, hunting for non existent purchase, as Leonard pounds into him in a cruel, almost selfish rhythm, sinking his teeth into the curve of Jim’s neck and sucking hard, feeling the entire length of Jim’s body ring with delicious tension.
Jim twists his neck, mouthing something inaudible, and his eyes are wild and absolutely insane and so impossibly beautiful that it almost feels like they shouldn’t exist.
Leonard doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to look, he just grips Jim tighter and lets himself go completely, as if the warm body beneath him is his to take, as if he has the right, as if this isn’t over before it started.
Jim pushes back stubbornly, making demands of his own, screaming himself hoarse without actually making a sound, and then Leonard pulls Jim’s head back roughly by the hair, and Jim comes with a swallowed sob, clenching around Leonard almost vengefully, forcing him over the edge.
Their breathing slows down eventually, and they separate awkwardly, righting their clothes in silence.
Leonard feels dizzy and shaken and still angry, and when Jim tries to step past him, Leonard grabs his arm tightly and jerks him toward himself.
Jim stares at him obediently, and for once, there is no challenge in his eyes, just heartbreaking sadness.
“I don’t want one night, Jim,” Leonard repeats quietly.
“Bones.” Jim sighs, breath warm and tempting against Leonard’s lips. “I thought I told you-”
“I don’t care.”
Jim tilts his chin up stubbornly. “Well, I do.” He looks away. “This was a mistake.”
Leonard lets go of him abruptly, and leans against the porch railing, crossing his arms over his chest. He laughs suddenly. Glancing up at Jim, he sees the expression of confusion quickly melting into a pout, and laughs harder.
“What?” Jim asks finally.
“Oh, just you.” Leonard shakes his head, chuckling. “You told your direct superior to go fuck himself over an open comm line, you started a brawl in a bar full of Klingons, you made enemies with some of the most vicious sons of bitches in the Orion Syndicate over goddamn dinner reservations, and you think - you think that this here tonight was a mistake?”
He can see Jim’s lips curling against his will. Jim allows the grin to surface for a moment, but doesn’t say anything.
Leonard straightens up and moves past Jim toward the door, stopping briefly in front of him.
“You know what? If this was a mistake, Jim, it was one you wanted to make. Maybe this should tell you something.”
“Bones-”
“Either fire me or shut up, Jim. We might not have a long time, because you're stupid or suicidal, but we sure as hell have more than just tonight.”
Jim stares at him, ready to protest, but then his shoulders slump suddenly, and he groans. “This was the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever-”
Leonard doesn’t let him finish, cradling Jim’s face in his hands and kissing him, deep and gentle; not exactly an apology, but more than a promise.
“Where are you going?” Jim asks dazedly when Leonard pulls away.
“To tell Pike that you’re spent and I’m taking you home.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Any objections?”
Jim doesn’t reply; doesn’t really move, apart from breathing.
“Okay then.” Leonard nods. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
It takes him about ten minutes to say goodbye to everyone.
Jim is still there when Leonard comes back.
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 2000
Warnings: this is pretty smutty, but I'm not sure that the smut is all that pretty. (See, this is why I suck at making jokes.) Also, this is unbetaed; I'm so very sorry about mistakes. Possible miscsquick.
Summary: “We can still have tonight, though,” he whispers hoarsely, like he’s running a fever. “Can we have tonight, Bones?”
Notes: Written for blue_jack's Birthday. I hope you'll like it, bb, or at least don't shoot me if you don't. I hope? :)
When Leonard notices that Jim isn’t in Pike’s living room anymore and goes to investigate, he doesn’t expect to find him chain smoking on the back porch. He watches as Jim flicks another stub away with his finger; it whirls in a broken scarlet half-circle before the descending night swallows it clean.
“Jim?”
Jim doesn’t turn, just treats Leonard to a wry smile that contorts his profile. “S’okay, Bones.”
He doesn’t sound okay, though, and Leonard frowns. Jim usually likes their little get togethers in Pike’s house. He should be inside right now, instead of letting Spock have the floor. At the very least, he should be in the kitchen with Scotty and Chekov, injecting watermelons with vodka, or whatever it is they usually do to get everyone smashed.
Instead, Jim is standing here alone, staring at the almost invisible horizon, and there’s not much to see in Mojave except for the desert.
Tentatively, Leonard takes a step closer.
“It’s a good life,” Jim says casually, with a thoughtful tint to his tone that makes it sound like he’s parting with some hard earned wisdom.
Leonard freezes.
He hasn’t forgotten the last time Jim said those words. He still has nightmares about it.
All too clearly, Leonard can see Spock materializing on the transporter pad on his knees, arms wrapped around the captain who’s bleeding all over the place, arms and legs jerking in reflexive, aborted motions, head dripping back helplessly. Jim’s eyes are wide and almost black, and he should have passed out hours ago, but of course he’s conscious and talking - talking, dammit - coughing around mouthfuls of blood, as he stares at Leonard.
‘Good life, Bones.’ His body is seizing in convulsions, but he stubbornly pushes the words out. ‘Been a good life.’
Leonard shakes himself mentally, focusing on the present.
Jim is watching him now with a soft, understanding smile, as if he knows exactly what Leonard is thinking.
“Do you believe I’ll end up like Pike?”
Surrounded by family and friends, cracking a little around the edges, but happy goes unspoken.
Leonard stares into Jim’s eyes helplessly, because he can’t look away and he can’t lie.
No, Leonard doesn’t believe in that. Jim is too reckless and too careless and values his life too little if at all. He’ll end up tortured to death in some Klingon prison, or staying behind to protect his crew, or doing some other stupidly heroic stuff no one else seems to be able to shoulder.
Pike knew that when he goaded Jim into joining Starfleet; knew that Jim was one of a kind. Sometimes Leonard wants to punch Pike in the face for that, because greatness comes with a price, and Jim will pay for it with his life sooner or later. Jim doesn’t understand what a cautious bet is and doesn’t know how to fold.
He doesn’t say anything.
Jim nods slowly, sympathetically, and steps closer, resting a hand on Leonard’s shoulder. Leonard can’t help drawing in a deeper breath instinctively, tasting the faint smell of tobacco curling in the sandy strands of Jim’s hair.
Jim moves in even closer, his voice dropping to an intimate, almost gentle timbre. “Just in case you ever wondered, Bones. This is why.”
Leonard’s breath catches in his throat, eyes fluttering closed then snapping wide open, and Jim is leaning in closer as if he’s going to - and then he’s pulling away and turns to go.
Leonard doesn’t know he’s moving until he is, halting Jim in his tracks, arms slipping around Jim’s waist, locking him in place. Jim stills.
“Bones, don’t.”
This is what death must feel like, Leonard thinks. The inevitability of it; the helplessness. It’s the hardest thing he has ever done in his life - letting Jim go.
Watching Jim leave for his dates at the Academy - ‘Don’t wait up, Bones.’
Watching him beam down into traps on unexplored planets, and then being hauled back up to the ship on his shield - ‘Didn’t I order you not to wait up?’
Letting Jim go now, knowing that they will never come back to this point again, that everything will be forgotten and business as usual, until that day one day when Jim probably won’t even get the chance to say, ‘It was a good life, Bones’ - it’s too painful to fully register with Leonard’s mind just now.
He unclasps his hands mechanically, and watches as Jim takes one step toward the door, then another, and another.
Jim stops with his hand on the doorknob, and his silhouette wavers for a moment as if he’s shivering. Or maybe Leonard’s vision is too blurry to see straight.
Jim turns around finally, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. “We can still have tonight, though,” he whispers hoarsely, like he’s running a fever. “Can we have tonight, Bones?”
Leonard makes some kind of wild, indescribable noise in his throat, and Jim’s head snaps up, eyes bright and burning.
“It’s not too much to ask,” Jim mutters, advancing on Leonard, staring at the rapidly darkening sky as if expecting it to talk back. “Just one night, and I... Just once-”
Leonard’s brain is still trying to cling to Jim’s words, seeking sense, but it’s too late, light years too late, because Jim’s lips descend on his, greedy, hungry, desperate, eliminating reason.
He pushes Leonard up against the back wall, hands clawing at his clothes, trying to get to skin, as Jim plunders his mouth like he’s never kissed anyone before, like he’s never going to again.
Leonard’s hands slide to cup Jim’s ass, and he brings them flush against each other, forcing a guttural growl out of Jim. He isn’t wearing a belt, so Leonard slides his hands under the waistband of Jim’s jeans and briefs without a hitch, his fingers scraping the smooth skin, digging into firm muscles, and Jim moans, drowning the sound in Leonard’s mouth, and ruts helplessly against him, his cock straining to spring out.
There’s a tiny persistent voice in Leonard’s head telling him to slow down, to savor the moment that will never repeat itself, but he can’t listen to it, can’t comply. His hands roam freely over Jim’s ass, groping and kneading, and then his finger finds Jim’s entrance and circles it teasingly, before the very tip slips in, slick with sweat. Jim’s whole body spasms, like he’s being electrocuted, and he bites down on Leonard’s lip hard enough to draw blood.
What little presence of mind Leonard still had snaps with a blast, and he flips them around, swearing and pushing Jim face first against the wall, jerking his jeans down to pool around Jim’s ankles. Jim mewls lowly in approval, wiggling his hips like he has no control over his body, rolling them against the smooth surface of the wall as if he doesn’t even know what shame is.
Leonard doesn’t know exactly when he pushed his own pants down, he only knows the wet slide of his cock between Jim’s cheeks, and it's making him stupid, like he was born without a brain, like there is nothing else in existence except for this, and for the way Jim cants his hips to meet him.
It’s good, so fucking good, but not enough, and Jim’s broken voice cuts through the haze of lust in a torturous dragging motion.
“Bones... back pocket.”
Leonard doesn’t even think, just reaches down, mouthing at Jim’s ass as he fumbles with his jeans until he finds a small tube.
Jim keens above him and spreads his legs wider, as Leonard licks down his cleft, while his hands fight with the cap. The cheesy bright scent of oranges fills the air, and Leonard would have rolled his eyes, if he wasn’t otherwise occupied, because of course the son of a bitch is carrying sunscreen.
“Bones,” Jim pushes out breathlessly, shuddering all over. “Come on. Please.”
Leonard straightens up and thrusts against him roughly in retaliation, driving Jim into the wall, obscenities spilling from his lips like an avalanche.
He fingers Jim’s hole, but Jim shakes his head, coordination screwed up to hell, running on determination only.
“No, don’t,” Jim whispers. “Wanna feel it. Wanna... uh, Christ, wanna remember.”
Leonard grits his teeth, but slicks himself and grips Jim’s hips tightly, as Jim braces himself against the wall.
“Do it,” Jim whines. “Please, please, please, Bones, just do it.”
Leonard thrusts into him without warning, startling Jim into a broken gasp. He pushes just the head in and stills, stretching Jim, and it must burn as fuck, but Leonard doesn’t relent, not even when Jim lets out a breath he has been holding with a ragged, torn stream of sounds.
“I don’t want one night, Jim,” Leonard hisses fiercely into his ear, and drives all the way home abruptly, slapping his free hand over Jim’s mouth just in time to stifle his scream.
Jim’s hands curl against the wall, hunting for non existent purchase, as Leonard pounds into him in a cruel, almost selfish rhythm, sinking his teeth into the curve of Jim’s neck and sucking hard, feeling the entire length of Jim’s body ring with delicious tension.
Jim twists his neck, mouthing something inaudible, and his eyes are wild and absolutely insane and so impossibly beautiful that it almost feels like they shouldn’t exist.
Leonard doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to look, he just grips Jim tighter and lets himself go completely, as if the warm body beneath him is his to take, as if he has the right, as if this isn’t over before it started.
Jim pushes back stubbornly, making demands of his own, screaming himself hoarse without actually making a sound, and then Leonard pulls Jim’s head back roughly by the hair, and Jim comes with a swallowed sob, clenching around Leonard almost vengefully, forcing him over the edge.
Their breathing slows down eventually, and they separate awkwardly, righting their clothes in silence.
Leonard feels dizzy and shaken and still angry, and when Jim tries to step past him, Leonard grabs his arm tightly and jerks him toward himself.
Jim stares at him obediently, and for once, there is no challenge in his eyes, just heartbreaking sadness.
“I don’t want one night, Jim,” Leonard repeats quietly.
“Bones.” Jim sighs, breath warm and tempting against Leonard’s lips. “I thought I told you-”
“I don’t care.”
Jim tilts his chin up stubbornly. “Well, I do.” He looks away. “This was a mistake.”
Leonard lets go of him abruptly, and leans against the porch railing, crossing his arms over his chest. He laughs suddenly. Glancing up at Jim, he sees the expression of confusion quickly melting into a pout, and laughs harder.
“What?” Jim asks finally.
“Oh, just you.” Leonard shakes his head, chuckling. “You told your direct superior to go fuck himself over an open comm line, you started a brawl in a bar full of Klingons, you made enemies with some of the most vicious sons of bitches in the Orion Syndicate over goddamn dinner reservations, and you think - you think that this here tonight was a mistake?”
He can see Jim’s lips curling against his will. Jim allows the grin to surface for a moment, but doesn’t say anything.
Leonard straightens up and moves past Jim toward the door, stopping briefly in front of him.
“You know what? If this was a mistake, Jim, it was one you wanted to make. Maybe this should tell you something.”
“Bones-”
“Either fire me or shut up, Jim. We might not have a long time, because you're stupid or suicidal, but we sure as hell have more than just tonight.”
Jim stares at him, ready to protest, but then his shoulders slump suddenly, and he groans. “This was the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever-”
Leonard doesn’t let him finish, cradling Jim’s face in his hands and kissing him, deep and gentle; not exactly an apology, but more than a promise.
“Where are you going?” Jim asks dazedly when Leonard pulls away.
“To tell Pike that you’re spent and I’m taking you home.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Any objections?”
Jim doesn’t reply; doesn’t really move, apart from breathing.
“Okay then.” Leonard nods. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
It takes him about ten minutes to say goodbye to everyone.
Jim is still there when Leonard comes back.