Title: Typical Starfleet Nights
Title: Typical Starfleet Nights
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Wouldn't you know? Not mine.
Word Count: 1407
Summary: Kirk and McCoy are in trouble for causing a ruckus in a bar near campus. They deal with their holding cell in creative ways.
They’ve been sitting in this room for the last hour. Jim is tapping his fingers in constant subsequence on a formica-topped table and yawning heavily as he peers around them at the room that’s devoid of anything other than the two chairs, the table, the dingy lightbulb and the mirror.
He’s (well, they, but more he) been in another fight and the bartender had shoved him in here with Bones to ‘straighten them out’ or something else that Jim’s heard a thousand times before.
“You should have just ignored them,” Bones is growling, glowering at his reflection in the mirror.
“You heard him, he insulted your mother. Am I supposed to just let that fly?”
“My Mama’s a smart enough woman to take the insult and move on,” Bones snaps back at him. “Incidentally,” he adds, slamming his hand down on the table and making Jim jump slightly. “She’s dead.”
“Ever the more reason to defend her honor,” Jim says, tipping his head back to lazily track Bones’ movements around the room. He’s had more than enough to drink to put him in a mood good enough that he doesn’t care about any impending suspensions or anything of that nature.
Right now, the only thing occupying his mind is how very good Bones looks in that black t-shirt that pulls at his upper back just-so, belying those broad shoulders of his. Jim wets his lips and takes his time licking his lower one slowly as he looks Bones over and thinks that he had intended to bring someone home tonight.
Jim sprawls back on the table so that his legs are dangling off of it and he’s resting on his elbows, giving Bones a lazy smile and his best ‘come fuck me now’ eyes.
“Jim, turn those off,” Bones says, which just makes Jim pout slightly. Bones has known his repertoire for months now, which makes it slightly harder to seduce the man into rounds of casual sex - even if he still does have a better success rate than expected. Still, Jim isn’t exactly known for giving up and so he inches his hips slightly, spreading out his thighs. “Jim,” comes the second warning.
Three strikes and he’s out, but Jim hasn’t exactly ever cared about committing a foul.
“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look in that shirt?” Jim asks, putting a little gravel and growl in his voice, plucking at Bones’ shirt and tugging him closer. Bones stumbles, but inevitably ends up between Jim’s legs.
Jim tightens his knees until they brace Bones’ hips. Now that he has him here, he has no intention of letting him go. He palms the shirt in his hands and grins at Bones, thinking that there is definitely more to do than wait for punishment silently.
“I was going to buy you a drink before the fight broke out,” Jim says. He’s still a little bit drunk and he’s still a little bit of an idiot when it comes to big bad ideas. Right now, with his hands slowly descending into Bones’ pants, slowly unbuttoning his own, he has a very, very bad idea. “C’mon, Bones, the night doesn’t have to be ruined.”
“You’re bottoming,” Bones warns, finger pointed at Jim, as if that’s going to somehow dissuade him instead of getting Jim’s cock twitching with happy interest.
Jim slides his way until his feet touch the floor and he casts a look over his shoulder to assure Bones that he knows and it’s not exactly a disincentive. Hell, he’s even come prepared. He casts a look at the mirror and grins towards it, making it very clear that he’s reaching into his pocket for a condom and small tube, pressing them back into Bones’ palm as he shoves down his jeans and boxers, sliding his torso towards the table slightly more and jutting his ass backwards.
“Goddammit, Jim, this isn’t a porno, stop acting like there are cameras,” Bones mutters, hauling Jim back up by the shoulder as he slides lube-coated fingers into him, shared warmth collecting between their backs. Jim shrugs as he accepts that ninety degrees or forty-five don’t exactly matter if he’s getting what he wants.
He pushes his hips backwards with every thrust of Bones’ fingers into him, slicking him up and the sensation is somehow dulled by the drink, but at the same time, the alcohol is giving him a heady sense of anticipation that seems to tingle at the base of his neck.
He breathes out when Bones pushes into him and Jim is going to count this moment as success. He’s got Bones with his cock out in a room that’s used as a drunk tank for Starfleet idiots like them. He ought to throw a parade at this rate.
Jim might not be allowed to display himself wantonly all over the desk, but he does make grabs at it with blunt fingernails, scratching dully every time Bones pushes in, fucking him with that determined ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard you learn a lesson’ thing Bones has got going for him in spades.
If every cadet on campus knew that Bones fucked like this, he’d have to line up to get his attention. Luckily, he gets it any nights he wants with the arrangement they’ve developed where Jim just has to call and Bones accedes.
“Fuck!” Jim calls out sharply and pushes back, his hand clumsily scrabbling to grab Bones’ long fingers and that broad palm of his, yanking it around Jim’s hips to grasp at his cock. “C’mon, Bones,” he coaxes. “Bones, come on,” he begs, rocking back and forth, fighting for friction.
Jim bites down hard on his lower lip as he starts feeling filled up, starts to get an incomparable feeling that goes straight through his cock and he’s all but begging now. “What is it, Jim?” Bones drawls, right in his ear like a fucking sadist. “What do you need?” His touch is lighter now, his thrusts not so deep.
“Fuck!” Jim calls out, tipping his chin back and shouting at the ceiling. “I need…fuck!” The ceiling is nowhere near as interesting as it ever is looking at Bones when he comes, but he doesn’t want to change their positions for the world. He grips Bones’ hip behind him, pushing back just enough to give him more friction, even though Bones is trying to take it away.
“Don’t shout, it’ll wake the neighbors,” Bones murmurs and nips at his neck before pressing that firm force back against his cock and drives in hard enough in one swift go that it’s enough to make Jim come, seeing a bright flash of colors in his vision before it all settles down again.
Now, Jim has no qualms about sliding out, turning around, and sinking down to his knees. He catches a brief glimpse of them in the reflection, enjoying the picture they make with Bones’ cock jutting upwards and Jim’s lips wrapping around it, taking his time to suck and lick, letting Bones fuck his mouth until he’s done, as well.
Really, Jim thinks, as he’s swallowing and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, if this is what happens when they get in trouble with The Man, they should be doing it far more often.
*
There’s a strange and almost eerie silence that can be explained by awkwardness in the adjacent room to the holding cell. It’s almost as if everyone working the shift is afraid to make the first comment.
It’s lucky that Captain Pike does it for them. “Do they know this mirror is two-way?” Pike mildly asks as he watches the boys tug their trousers back on. No more than thirty seconds later, he’s rewarded with an answer when Jim tugs his jacket on and turns deliberately to the mirror and blatantly winks right at him.
Which translates to a yes.
“Alright,” Pike grumbles. “Everyone can have their cold showers later. I want them processed within the hour.”
He gets an anxious and stuttered array of answers from the men and women around him before they’re scuttling off.
“Damn it, Kirk,” Pike mutters through the glass. “How many asses are you trying to be a pain in here?”
All he gets in return for that is a brief after-show as Jim sneaks a hand down McCoy’s pants and it starts all over.
THE END
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Wouldn't you know? Not mine.
Word Count: 1407
Summary: Kirk and McCoy are in trouble for causing a ruckus in a bar near campus. They deal with their holding cell in creative ways.
They’ve been sitting in this room for the last hour. Jim is tapping his fingers in constant subsequence on a formica-topped table and yawning heavily as he peers around them at the room that’s devoid of anything other than the two chairs, the table, the dingy lightbulb and the mirror.
He’s (well, they, but more he) been in another fight and the bartender had shoved him in here with Bones to ‘straighten them out’ or something else that Jim’s heard a thousand times before.
“You should have just ignored them,” Bones is growling, glowering at his reflection in the mirror.
“You heard him, he insulted your mother. Am I supposed to just let that fly?”
“My Mama’s a smart enough woman to take the insult and move on,” Bones snaps back at him. “Incidentally,” he adds, slamming his hand down on the table and making Jim jump slightly. “She’s dead.”
“Ever the more reason to defend her honor,” Jim says, tipping his head back to lazily track Bones’ movements around the room. He’s had more than enough to drink to put him in a mood good enough that he doesn’t care about any impending suspensions or anything of that nature.
Right now, the only thing occupying his mind is how very good Bones looks in that black t-shirt that pulls at his upper back just-so, belying those broad shoulders of his. Jim wets his lips and takes his time licking his lower one slowly as he looks Bones over and thinks that he had intended to bring someone home tonight.
Jim sprawls back on the table so that his legs are dangling off of it and he’s resting on his elbows, giving Bones a lazy smile and his best ‘come fuck me now’ eyes.
“Jim, turn those off,” Bones says, which just makes Jim pout slightly. Bones has known his repertoire for months now, which makes it slightly harder to seduce the man into rounds of casual sex - even if he still does have a better success rate than expected. Still, Jim isn’t exactly known for giving up and so he inches his hips slightly, spreading out his thighs. “Jim,” comes the second warning.
Three strikes and he’s out, but Jim hasn’t exactly ever cared about committing a foul.
“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look in that shirt?” Jim asks, putting a little gravel and growl in his voice, plucking at Bones’ shirt and tugging him closer. Bones stumbles, but inevitably ends up between Jim’s legs.
Jim tightens his knees until they brace Bones’ hips. Now that he has him here, he has no intention of letting him go. He palms the shirt in his hands and grins at Bones, thinking that there is definitely more to do than wait for punishment silently.
“I was going to buy you a drink before the fight broke out,” Jim says. He’s still a little bit drunk and he’s still a little bit of an idiot when it comes to big bad ideas. Right now, with his hands slowly descending into Bones’ pants, slowly unbuttoning his own, he has a very, very bad idea. “C’mon, Bones, the night doesn’t have to be ruined.”
“You’re bottoming,” Bones warns, finger pointed at Jim, as if that’s going to somehow dissuade him instead of getting Jim’s cock twitching with happy interest.
Jim slides his way until his feet touch the floor and he casts a look over his shoulder to assure Bones that he knows and it’s not exactly a disincentive. Hell, he’s even come prepared. He casts a look at the mirror and grins towards it, making it very clear that he’s reaching into his pocket for a condom and small tube, pressing them back into Bones’ palm as he shoves down his jeans and boxers, sliding his torso towards the table slightly more and jutting his ass backwards.
“Goddammit, Jim, this isn’t a porno, stop acting like there are cameras,” Bones mutters, hauling Jim back up by the shoulder as he slides lube-coated fingers into him, shared warmth collecting between their backs. Jim shrugs as he accepts that ninety degrees or forty-five don’t exactly matter if he’s getting what he wants.
He pushes his hips backwards with every thrust of Bones’ fingers into him, slicking him up and the sensation is somehow dulled by the drink, but at the same time, the alcohol is giving him a heady sense of anticipation that seems to tingle at the base of his neck.
He breathes out when Bones pushes into him and Jim is going to count this moment as success. He’s got Bones with his cock out in a room that’s used as a drunk tank for Starfleet idiots like them. He ought to throw a parade at this rate.
Jim might not be allowed to display himself wantonly all over the desk, but he does make grabs at it with blunt fingernails, scratching dully every time Bones pushes in, fucking him with that determined ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard you learn a lesson’ thing Bones has got going for him in spades.
If every cadet on campus knew that Bones fucked like this, he’d have to line up to get his attention. Luckily, he gets it any nights he wants with the arrangement they’ve developed where Jim just has to call and Bones accedes.
“Fuck!” Jim calls out sharply and pushes back, his hand clumsily scrabbling to grab Bones’ long fingers and that broad palm of his, yanking it around Jim’s hips to grasp at his cock. “C’mon, Bones,” he coaxes. “Bones, come on,” he begs, rocking back and forth, fighting for friction.
Jim bites down hard on his lower lip as he starts feeling filled up, starts to get an incomparable feeling that goes straight through his cock and he’s all but begging now. “What is it, Jim?” Bones drawls, right in his ear like a fucking sadist. “What do you need?” His touch is lighter now, his thrusts not so deep.
“Fuck!” Jim calls out, tipping his chin back and shouting at the ceiling. “I need…fuck!” The ceiling is nowhere near as interesting as it ever is looking at Bones when he comes, but he doesn’t want to change their positions for the world. He grips Bones’ hip behind him, pushing back just enough to give him more friction, even though Bones is trying to take it away.
“Don’t shout, it’ll wake the neighbors,” Bones murmurs and nips at his neck before pressing that firm force back against his cock and drives in hard enough in one swift go that it’s enough to make Jim come, seeing a bright flash of colors in his vision before it all settles down again.
Now, Jim has no qualms about sliding out, turning around, and sinking down to his knees. He catches a brief glimpse of them in the reflection, enjoying the picture they make with Bones’ cock jutting upwards and Jim’s lips wrapping around it, taking his time to suck and lick, letting Bones fuck his mouth until he’s done, as well.
Really, Jim thinks, as he’s swallowing and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, if this is what happens when they get in trouble with The Man, they should be doing it far more often.
*
There’s a strange and almost eerie silence that can be explained by awkwardness in the adjacent room to the holding cell. It’s almost as if everyone working the shift is afraid to make the first comment.
It’s lucky that Captain Pike does it for them. “Do they know this mirror is two-way?” Pike mildly asks as he watches the boys tug their trousers back on. No more than thirty seconds later, he’s rewarded with an answer when Jim tugs his jacket on and turns deliberately to the mirror and blatantly winks right at him.
Which translates to a yes.
“Alright,” Pike grumbles. “Everyone can have their cold showers later. I want them processed within the hour.”
He gets an anxious and stuttered array of answers from the men and women around him before they’re scuttling off.
“Damn it, Kirk,” Pike mutters through the glass. “How many asses are you trying to be a pain in here?”
All he gets in return for that is a brief after-show as Jim sneaks a hand down McCoy’s pants and it starts all over.
THE END