Fic: One in the Same [NC-17]
The soft sounds emanating from Jim’s throat was like music to John’s ears. The total lack of breathy little words mixed with slight hitches in breath were telltale signs that the blonde was nearing completion. He redoubled his efforts as he gripped Jim’s hips thrusting the young man down repeatedly upon his cock. Jim squeezed his lover’s shoulders brutally, drawing their bodies closer together; vying for that much needed friction.
Moments later John paused as he felt spasms rock Jim’s body. “John…oh John,” Jim murmured into the crook of the older man’s neck. The hard length still inside twitched eagerly; John wouldn’t be able to sit still for much longer.
“Gonna move us,” he said, placing a kiss into the blonde locks. Jim nodded then moaned when they sat up with him still impaled; wrapping his legs around tighter to keep from jostling around too much. John eased from their embrace as he gently placed Jim down on the bed; positive that his young love would be very sensitive moments after coming. Soon enough, John was burying himself deep into that tight heat again.
Minutes later Jim began to solidify and spoke kind words of appreciation and encouragement near the taller man’s ear; not that he needed them so much. He rumbled back a guttural sound in reply. John had never been the talkative-during-sex-type but Jim apparently wanted that extra connection. Needed to know that what he was doing was pleasing to the other man.
As they rocked together to their own pace John placed kisses along Jim’s lips, jaw, and neck. Jim bucked a few times unexpectantly when he was grazed just right to which John whispered an apology. Jim simply smiled wide; but began to playfully nip and scratch at him.
Riled up and unable to help himself he thrust harder into the lithe body beneath him. That was all John needed; he cried out, spilling himself inside.
“Love you, kid.”
“Me too,” he replied with a grin.
Narcissistic little…He rolled hazel eyes as he pulled out. Instead of falling onto the bed beside his lover John went to the bathroom to clean the remnants of Jim from his stomach. Returning shortly with a damp washcloth to tend to the dozing blonde. Jim was out cold in the middle of the bed, so John squeezed himself beside him nearly doubling as a blanket.
Much to his surprise, Jim took hold of his hand to begin placing light kisses on it. The blonde smiled mischievously when he nuzzled the digits before sucking on them thoughtfully.
A moan. “Once not enough for you this evening?”
“I was wondering…”
John raised a brow, watching Jim intently.
“Would this set you off…?” Using both hands he took the fingers from his mouth then traced a line with John’s fingers to the blonde’s own neck. He cupped the broad hand down, using his own hands to make John’s apply pressure there.
Realization of what was being asked set in. It trembled at first, next the hand gripped firmly applying more pressure still. Reaper’s gaze darkened through hooded lashes; he smiled a little sympathetically at the man who was now attempting to pull the hand away.
“Hurting…stop…” Jim choked out before his airway was completely blocked.
Harm. John returned to himself to snatch the hand away quickly. He bolted from the bed as Jim rolled onto his side; grasping at his neck while coughing.
“Jim…Dammit!” His look that of horror mixed with anger as the mark along Jim’s neck deepened in color. “You know what happens when you…” A sound of grief escaped him.
When the fit receded Jim turned around to look pointedly at his friend. “I don’t care. I want to understand why. How can I help you if-“
“Help? There’s no help for that. That is a cold killer looking to get drunk on bloodlust,” he spat.
Jim looked at him blankly, unsure of what to say to that.
“God,” John slumped onto his bed as he continued, “I haven’t been able to shut it off since…” Jesus, had it only been six months since that incident in the bar where John pretended to get his face broken? Just weeks before the winter break…before when he would simply patch Jim up and send him back on his merry way.
“Shut it off?”
As usual, John could be prompted to speak his mind. “It. Him. I want to be a doctor, not a…him.” He sneered at his hands, wishing to cut them off; sick of the sight of them.
Uneasy silence filled the room. Giving up on his tantrum, John laid down on his bed his back facing at Jim. “Lights!”
The room went dark.
In the blackness, he could hear the subtle creak of Jim shifting from his bed.
“Back off.”
“Won’t you have…?”
“Not gonna sleep.”
--
John laid there in the darkness, brooding silently. He had managed to force back Reaper some years ago before assuming the name Leonard McCoy. The world was quickly evolving into a place where men like that weren’t required. He had shut it away into some dark recess of his mind, never having to confront it for what it was. John had run from it.
Years later it had come back to haunt him, and the nightmares of those times along with. It happened so gradually that he hadn’t had time to grasp what was happening. Never would he blame Jim for the occurrence; but in the same breath he did have some minor role in it all. Jim, his roommate, who had attempted to befriend the disgruntled man who shunned all personal contact.
John had agreed to go out with him, only once, to shut the kid up…unrelenting little bastard that he was. Yes, John knew exactly who Jim Kirk was, and who his father had been. Any fool did. The next thing he knew he was mending the kid’s wounds and feeling a little sorry for him.
Finally, he opened his eyes and paid attention. John would go out with his roommate more often if only to keep an eye out for trouble. Sometimes it found him, other times it didn’t. Then their first Remembrance Day together, and the day that followed. Like hell he was going to let the kid give up on himself like that ever again.
Then the strangest six months he had ever lived through. Seriously.
And somehow it had all ended up with John possessing the one thing that could keep Jim from pain…but would it only prolong the suffering? Would his lover wish to spend a probable eternity with a man who couldn’t explain all of the extra baggage he was carrying? Probably not.
He’d have to explain himself one day.
Perhaps one day too Jim Kirk would mature enough emotionally to properly accept the gift that his lover had to offer. As it stood now Jim’s outward mask was one of cocky arrogance mixed with delusions of grandeur, all wrapped up in an enormous ego. Inwardly, he was as scared and alone as any child could be.
It was funny, in a sense. John thought that he - Leonard McCoy - was a fairly accomplished doctor. He had cured many ills (never enough to ever recover the lives he had shattered) but the one patient he had the most trouble with was the self. Only in the past three or four months had he come to discover that he had a problem, before the young Xanda blatantly pointed it out to him. He just didn’t know how to fix it.
Around that time the probable cure crept carefully into John’s bed.
“Jim…” he warned.
“Please,” Jim pleaded, nuzzling his face against the back of John’s neck.
Had he been crying?
“All right, here. Under the covers.” They removed themselves from the bed and John pulled the sheets back.
Damn nescience son of a…he thought as they crawled back together, until he realized he had missed the weight on the bed resting next to him. Dammit!
John was angry, not at Jim, but at himself.
For better - or worse - he was hopelessly stuck on this kid.
Okay, all right. Fine. If Jim wanted to know more about who John really was then he’d show the kid. After he was positive the blonde had fallen to sleep John reached for his PADD and started to research.
--
True to his word, John had not fallen to sleep that night. When his lover began to stir John flipped around to give him a light peck on the forehead. “Mornin’” he grumbled. In the back of his head the word sounded more like ‘mourning’ than ‘morning’. How fitting.
“Hey,” Jim said as he covered his mouth to yawn.
“Read this.” The older man reached around to the nightstand and picked up his PADD, handing it to a baffled Jim.
“What’s this?”
“You said you wanted to know, so there it is. I’m going to get cleaned up,” he said wandering off to the bathroom.
On the display Jim would find a wealth of information all but laid out with phosphorescent bread crumbs. The first few pages were filled with old textbook style works on assassinations of prominent World War III figures. Followed by several news articles of various dates on a spree of famous murders by what was perceived a group of individuals known simply as ‘the Reaper’. Followed lastly with John’s declassified military record. “John Grimm, codename: Reaper.”
It wouldn’t be a stretch to put two and two together.
John knew his companion was a quick reader, but he deliberately took his time in the bathroom. When he stepped back out he hung near the door, leaning against the frame, watching Jim watch him. The looks of shock and dismay didn’t surprise him in the slightest.
“You were…you did all that?”
He simply nodded.
“You went from a mass-murdering psychopath to a doctor? What the fuck John?”
“I don’t know any more…I can’t justify it. No one can change the past Jim,” he said gravely. “I’ve seen enough death in my life to not want to see it any more. I can’t bring those people back, but at least I can atone for those sins.”
“Bullshit. You can’t just change your name and hope that everything can be swept under a rug.”
“It’s been working well enough thus far.”
Jim shook his head, clearly not agreeing. “Like hell it has! What was that last night then? You can’t just shut it off.”
Jim was right, it couldn’t simply be shut off. There was all of that pent up energy from last night that Jim had unwittingly called down. John could feel the hair on the back of his neck raise, Jim was issuing a challenge to him.
“Don’t Jim…not right now,” he threatened. “You’ve seen what I could do.”
“You’ll what? Beat me to within an inch of my life just to prove a point?” Sadly for Jim, he had never been the type to step down from a fight.
John clenched his fists several times, closing his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of wanting to put Jim in his place like he deserved. He wouldn’t acknowledge Jim’s baiting questions.
“You have a lot more willpower than you give yourself credit for.” Jim said simply, the anger completely washed from his voice.
Maybe it was his lover that had just proven the point. If it had been anyone else, John was certain they probably wouldn’t have lived to see another day. He sagged, loosening the tension that had built up in his body. Tired, he went to his bed and collapsed next to Jim.
“John, Leonard. Reaper, Bones. You’ll have to learn to deal with the fact that you’re one in the same person,” Jim said as he reached out to caress his companion’s body.
John tensed as Jim’s hand closed the distance between them. Who was he to tell John how to live his life?
Jim flinched back as John started to coil. He had seen it out of the corner of his eye, but it had been there. Weakness.
In a flash Reaper had spun into a crouch, glaring intently at the younger man sitting partially covered in the blankets.
His look was matched, “I know I can’t beat you John, but I’ll continue to push you until you can live with all of yourself.”
He crossed the short distance between them, a hand splayed open laying Jim against the bed while the other proceeded to grasp at the man’s slightly irritated neck. Jim closed his eyes as Reaper’s hand started to squeeze ever so slightly. More. Jim lay there, still, resigning himself to the fate.
John realized then that his lover wouldn’t call out in order to be saved. The thought of killing the one person who meant the world to him…shook him. Like any of those other fights, Jim would fight the odds even when they were stacked against him. It was in its own way eye-opening.
The older man released his grasp and sat back, “Jim, I’m so sorry.”
The blonde in turn sat back up and regarded his friend, “You’ll learn.”
John slumped against Jim. Not even two hours before classes and he was already mentally and emotionally sapped. His lover allowed him to stay there like that for a few minutes, eventually getting back up to retrieve his dermal regenerator. Poor damn kid was going to be bruising later due to his own reckless behavior, otherwise. Dammit.
Part Eight: People of the Past | Part Ten: A Proposal
Moments later John paused as he felt spasms rock Jim’s body. “John…oh John,” Jim murmured into the crook of the older man’s neck. The hard length still inside twitched eagerly; John wouldn’t be able to sit still for much longer.
“Gonna move us,” he said, placing a kiss into the blonde locks. Jim nodded then moaned when they sat up with him still impaled; wrapping his legs around tighter to keep from jostling around too much. John eased from their embrace as he gently placed Jim down on the bed; positive that his young love would be very sensitive moments after coming. Soon enough, John was burying himself deep into that tight heat again.
Minutes later Jim began to solidify and spoke kind words of appreciation and encouragement near the taller man’s ear; not that he needed them so much. He rumbled back a guttural sound in reply. John had never been the talkative-during-sex-type but Jim apparently wanted that extra connection. Needed to know that what he was doing was pleasing to the other man.
As they rocked together to their own pace John placed kisses along Jim’s lips, jaw, and neck. Jim bucked a few times unexpectantly when he was grazed just right to which John whispered an apology. Jim simply smiled wide; but began to playfully nip and scratch at him.
Riled up and unable to help himself he thrust harder into the lithe body beneath him. That was all John needed; he cried out, spilling himself inside.
“Love you, kid.”
“Me too,” he replied with a grin.
Narcissistic little…He rolled hazel eyes as he pulled out. Instead of falling onto the bed beside his lover John went to the bathroom to clean the remnants of Jim from his stomach. Returning shortly with a damp washcloth to tend to the dozing blonde. Jim was out cold in the middle of the bed, so John squeezed himself beside him nearly doubling as a blanket.
Much to his surprise, Jim took hold of his hand to begin placing light kisses on it. The blonde smiled mischievously when he nuzzled the digits before sucking on them thoughtfully.
A moan. “Once not enough for you this evening?”
“I was wondering…”
John raised a brow, watching Jim intently.
“Would this set you off…?” Using both hands he took the fingers from his mouth then traced a line with John’s fingers to the blonde’s own neck. He cupped the broad hand down, using his own hands to make John’s apply pressure there.
Realization of what was being asked set in. It trembled at first, next the hand gripped firmly applying more pressure still. Reaper’s gaze darkened through hooded lashes; he smiled a little sympathetically at the man who was now attempting to pull the hand away.
“Hurting…stop…” Jim choked out before his airway was completely blocked.
Harm. John returned to himself to snatch the hand away quickly. He bolted from the bed as Jim rolled onto his side; grasping at his neck while coughing.
“Jim…Dammit!” His look that of horror mixed with anger as the mark along Jim’s neck deepened in color. “You know what happens when you…” A sound of grief escaped him.
When the fit receded Jim turned around to look pointedly at his friend. “I don’t care. I want to understand why. How can I help you if-“
“Help? There’s no help for that. That is a cold killer looking to get drunk on bloodlust,” he spat.
Jim looked at him blankly, unsure of what to say to that.
“God,” John slumped onto his bed as he continued, “I haven’t been able to shut it off since…” Jesus, had it only been six months since that incident in the bar where John pretended to get his face broken? Just weeks before the winter break…before when he would simply patch Jim up and send him back on his merry way.
“Shut it off?”
As usual, John could be prompted to speak his mind. “It. Him. I want to be a doctor, not a…him.” He sneered at his hands, wishing to cut them off; sick of the sight of them.
Uneasy silence filled the room. Giving up on his tantrum, John laid down on his bed his back facing at Jim. “Lights!”
The room went dark.
In the blackness, he could hear the subtle creak of Jim shifting from his bed.
“Back off.”
“Won’t you have…?”
“Not gonna sleep.”
--
John laid there in the darkness, brooding silently. He had managed to force back Reaper some years ago before assuming the name Leonard McCoy. The world was quickly evolving into a place where men like that weren’t required. He had shut it away into some dark recess of his mind, never having to confront it for what it was. John had run from it.
Years later it had come back to haunt him, and the nightmares of those times along with. It happened so gradually that he hadn’t had time to grasp what was happening. Never would he blame Jim for the occurrence; but in the same breath he did have some minor role in it all. Jim, his roommate, who had attempted to befriend the disgruntled man who shunned all personal contact.
John had agreed to go out with him, only once, to shut the kid up…unrelenting little bastard that he was. Yes, John knew exactly who Jim Kirk was, and who his father had been. Any fool did. The next thing he knew he was mending the kid’s wounds and feeling a little sorry for him.
Finally, he opened his eyes and paid attention. John would go out with his roommate more often if only to keep an eye out for trouble. Sometimes it found him, other times it didn’t. Then their first Remembrance Day together, and the day that followed. Like hell he was going to let the kid give up on himself like that ever again.
Then the strangest six months he had ever lived through. Seriously.
And somehow it had all ended up with John possessing the one thing that could keep Jim from pain…but would it only prolong the suffering? Would his lover wish to spend a probable eternity with a man who couldn’t explain all of the extra baggage he was carrying? Probably not.
He’d have to explain himself one day.
Perhaps one day too Jim Kirk would mature enough emotionally to properly accept the gift that his lover had to offer. As it stood now Jim’s outward mask was one of cocky arrogance mixed with delusions of grandeur, all wrapped up in an enormous ego. Inwardly, he was as scared and alone as any child could be.
It was funny, in a sense. John thought that he - Leonard McCoy - was a fairly accomplished doctor. He had cured many ills (never enough to ever recover the lives he had shattered) but the one patient he had the most trouble with was the self. Only in the past three or four months had he come to discover that he had a problem, before the young Xanda blatantly pointed it out to him. He just didn’t know how to fix it.
Around that time the probable cure crept carefully into John’s bed.
“Jim…” he warned.
“Please,” Jim pleaded, nuzzling his face against the back of John’s neck.
Had he been crying?
“All right, here. Under the covers.” They removed themselves from the bed and John pulled the sheets back.
Damn nescience son of a…he thought as they crawled back together, until he realized he had missed the weight on the bed resting next to him. Dammit!
John was angry, not at Jim, but at himself.
For better - or worse - he was hopelessly stuck on this kid.
Okay, all right. Fine. If Jim wanted to know more about who John really was then he’d show the kid. After he was positive the blonde had fallen to sleep John reached for his PADD and started to research.
--
True to his word, John had not fallen to sleep that night. When his lover began to stir John flipped around to give him a light peck on the forehead. “Mornin’” he grumbled. In the back of his head the word sounded more like ‘mourning’ than ‘morning’. How fitting.
“Hey,” Jim said as he covered his mouth to yawn.
“Read this.” The older man reached around to the nightstand and picked up his PADD, handing it to a baffled Jim.
“What’s this?”
“You said you wanted to know, so there it is. I’m going to get cleaned up,” he said wandering off to the bathroom.
On the display Jim would find a wealth of information all but laid out with phosphorescent bread crumbs. The first few pages were filled with old textbook style works on assassinations of prominent World War III figures. Followed by several news articles of various dates on a spree of famous murders by what was perceived a group of individuals known simply as ‘the Reaper’. Followed lastly with John’s declassified military record. “John Grimm, codename: Reaper.”
It wouldn’t be a stretch to put two and two together.
John knew his companion was a quick reader, but he deliberately took his time in the bathroom. When he stepped back out he hung near the door, leaning against the frame, watching Jim watch him. The looks of shock and dismay didn’t surprise him in the slightest.
“You were…you did all that?”
He simply nodded.
“You went from a mass-murdering psychopath to a doctor? What the fuck John?”
“I don’t know any more…I can’t justify it. No one can change the past Jim,” he said gravely. “I’ve seen enough death in my life to not want to see it any more. I can’t bring those people back, but at least I can atone for those sins.”
“Bullshit. You can’t just change your name and hope that everything can be swept under a rug.”
“It’s been working well enough thus far.”
Jim shook his head, clearly not agreeing. “Like hell it has! What was that last night then? You can’t just shut it off.”
Jim was right, it couldn’t simply be shut off. There was all of that pent up energy from last night that Jim had unwittingly called down. John could feel the hair on the back of his neck raise, Jim was issuing a challenge to him.
“Don’t Jim…not right now,” he threatened. “You’ve seen what I could do.”
“You’ll what? Beat me to within an inch of my life just to prove a point?” Sadly for Jim, he had never been the type to step down from a fight.
John clenched his fists several times, closing his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of wanting to put Jim in his place like he deserved. He wouldn’t acknowledge Jim’s baiting questions.
“You have a lot more willpower than you give yourself credit for.” Jim said simply, the anger completely washed from his voice.
Maybe it was his lover that had just proven the point. If it had been anyone else, John was certain they probably wouldn’t have lived to see another day. He sagged, loosening the tension that had built up in his body. Tired, he went to his bed and collapsed next to Jim.
“John, Leonard. Reaper, Bones. You’ll have to learn to deal with the fact that you’re one in the same person,” Jim said as he reached out to caress his companion’s body.
John tensed as Jim’s hand closed the distance between them. Who was he to tell John how to live his life?
Jim flinched back as John started to coil. He had seen it out of the corner of his eye, but it had been there. Weakness.
In a flash Reaper had spun into a crouch, glaring intently at the younger man sitting partially covered in the blankets.
His look was matched, “I know I can’t beat you John, but I’ll continue to push you until you can live with all of yourself.”
He crossed the short distance between them, a hand splayed open laying Jim against the bed while the other proceeded to grasp at the man’s slightly irritated neck. Jim closed his eyes as Reaper’s hand started to squeeze ever so slightly. More. Jim lay there, still, resigning himself to the fate.
John realized then that his lover wouldn’t call out in order to be saved. The thought of killing the one person who meant the world to him…shook him. Like any of those other fights, Jim would fight the odds even when they were stacked against him. It was in its own way eye-opening.
The older man released his grasp and sat back, “Jim, I’m so sorry.”
The blonde in turn sat back up and regarded his friend, “You’ll learn.”
John slumped against Jim. Not even two hours before classes and he was already mentally and emotionally sapped. His lover allowed him to stay there like that for a few minutes, eventually getting back up to retrieve his dermal regenerator. Poor damn kid was going to be bruising later due to his own reckless behavior, otherwise. Dammit.
Part Eight: People of the Past | Part Ten: A Proposal