[FIC] Star Trek: Then, Suddenly, Life Changed [5/6] (Kirk/McCoy, R)
Title: Then, Suddenly, Life Changed [5/6]
Authors: salvaged_pride and sullacat
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary: In honor of the one year anniversary of the movie, an AU - What if Leonard McCoy had been at the bar that night? Two men, a cycle, and a trip that changes their lives. 9745 words -- Look for future chapters every other day.
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Distance Traveled:
The sun was up early the next morning. All the clouds were gone, leaving nothing but blue skies and bright sunrise in the east. But the first thing Jim noticed when opened his eyes was that he was alone. No warm body, no breathing against his skin. He sat up, blinking against the light as the blanket pooled around his waist. McCoy was gone. His stuff was still there, clothes and bag - but the man himself wasn't anywhere to be seen. Scratching his chest, Jim looked around one more time, wondering at what point he needed to get worried.
Before he could decide on getting up and checking for the doctor, Jim heard the shuffle of gravel and rocks outside, and Jim almost didn't recognize the man who entered the cave and headed towards him.
Wearing a pair of jeans and carrying a small bag, with damp and messy hair, McCoy walked up and gave Jim a warm smile. "Morning." McCoy had shaved, taken days, maybe weeks worth of scruff off his face and somehow that one simple act seemed to drop years off him. The grumpy, bitter doctor was gone and standing there was this fucking good-looking guy with warm eyes and a kind smile. Jim stared in shock, blinking slowly. "...Len?" Just to be sure.
"Yeah, Jim?" McCoy answered, grabbing a still damp t-shirt from the day before and toweling off his head.
Jim wasn't entirely sure what to do. He never had actually stayed 'til morning with someone before. What was he supposed to say to someone he let fuck him? "...You shaved." Nice, Jim. You sound like an idiot.
McCoy grinned, all sorts of little laugh lines in his face more easily seen. "Yeah," he said again, looking outside in the distance for a moment. "It was time. Besides," he added, grinning as he tucked the shaving kit into his travel bag, "I needed to do it before I got to the Academy. Don't want to look like a train wreck when I go to talk to the captain who found me."
The answer was odd enough to make him laugh, and Jim started to get up, stretching as the blanket fell away from him. "Yea, probably for the best." There was only a faint hint of soreness, which Jim could live with. He watched McCoy's little movements, almost smiling despite himself. The doctor just seemed... happier, like somehow Jim had managed to cure his sadness at least for a little while. I've got a magical healing ass, or something. The mental image made him chuckle as he gathered up the blankets, folding them. Then suddenly McCoy was behind him, as if drawn by the chuckle.
"Starving this mornin'," he whispered into Jim's ear, like a secret. "What we got to eat?"
It took an effort to keep from reacting to the sudden voice against his ear. Too much time on the streets where fast reactions were needed to save his life. Instead, Jim just froze up, counting to five in his head before he relaxed. Nothing wrong. "Don't know... should be something left." Came out as calm as he'd hoped, which was a relief.
"You hungry?" McCoy asked, heading over to the saddle bags on the bike. "Looks like we got protein bars, and um, more protein bars. What do you feel like?" he asked, little grin on his face.
"Well, with that amazing selection, I think I'll take... a protein bar." Jim smiled as he walked over, grabbing the bar when it was offered. He leaned against the stone wall as he opened the wrapper, biting into the bar. "Lot of ground to cover... we'll probably get into San Francisco about..." He tried to calculate it in his mind, the distance, the traffic around the city... and winced. "Shit, if we make it there by seventeen hundred it'll be a miracle." But... maybe... it would just call for some not exactly law-biding traffic maneuvering when they got near the big city.
McCoy's face changed to being tight, worried. "Let's see how far we get. If I gotta wait another day, then I gotta wait another day." McCoy didn't have much money left, Jim knew that, and there was a chance they might not take him tomorrow, depending on how hard-ass they wanted to be.
But Jim's mind was already at work. He knew McCoy's circumstances, at least to a point, and he had plans to do something about making sure things turned out right for the doctor. If he couldn't find a way to get McCoy there in time... he'd find out just how hard it was to hack his way into Starfleet. McCoy deserved the chance, more than he gave a shit about staying out from under the law. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it turns out right." It was a promise, spoken in certainty.
It took only a few minutes to pack their things, damp clothes mixing with dry but they didn't have time to care anymore - the sun was up and they needed to make ridiculous time to make it to San Francisco by afternoon. Jim took the first shift, getting them back to the more populated roads, roads he hated driving but ultimately would be easier to reach top speeds. They blazed through the rest of Nevada in a few hours, a straight shot down a highway Jim knew used to be called I-80 a hundred years ago, with McCoy's arms wrapped tight around him. They stopped outside Reno only to use the bathroom and eat what was left of their supplies some time way after lunch should have happened. It was there that they switched off and McCoy took them through the last of Nevada and through into California. He looked worried again, if Jim was any kind of guesser, because he kept catching McCoy looking down to check out the chronometer.
Eventually, Jim poked McCoy. "Let me drive." It had only been an hour since McCoy had taken over, however at a certain point it became obvious that they were behind schedule, the miles not ticking by as fast as the minutes. They switched again, and Jim opened up on the highway, faster and faster until it looked like they might actually have a shot. Jim leaned forward on the cycle and felt McCoy doing the same against his back as they went far beyond the speed limit. When they started to hit traffic, Jim gave McCoy only a quick warning of "Hold on tight."
The last hour was spent zig-zagging through traffic, bolting through small spaces between cars and trucks just trying to get ahead. Jim had a small device built into his cycle that was a product of a certain incident of his childhood learning that checked constantly for the signal put out by the highway and law patrol communication devices, and he could slow down fast when he saw a blip up ahead. Jim knew he was pushing the boundaries on not only his luck in keeping them from wiping out on the road, but the limit of time before he had to take more drastic measures to make sure McCoy would get in tonight.
It took a mixture of helpful, cheerful signs put up by the city and the information McCoy had gotten from Pike to find the Academy. Jim pulled up in front of a building that was as clean cut looking as the cadets of the Academy were supposed to be, tall symbols of the great Starfleet fluttering in the late-afternoon breeze. Same Starfleet that had ended up killing his father, taking everything that had mattered to a child.
Jim came to a stop, looking at the building in silence. "...This is it." His voice quiet.
"Yeah." McCoy looked nervous, fiddling with his hair. He looked wind-blown and sun burned and he needed a shower and so did Jim, but fuck it all, they were here. Jim had gotten him here. "Come inside with me?" McCoy asked, looking over at Jim.
Jim hesitated, staring at the entrance to the building before looking at McCoy. The doctor looked... it didn't matter how the doctor looked. He'd be leaving soon, after all. "...Sure, for a little bit," he relented, tucking the cycle off in the lot and shoving his hands into his pockets. He suddenly felt dirty, unclean.
Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, most of the doors they passed closed and lights off. McCoy's hands folded in front of him when they approached an office, 'Cpt. Pike, Christopher' stenciled neatly outside the door. Jim found a place to sit in one of the chairs, watching McCoy hesitate before pressing the chime next to the door. When it opened, McCoy gave a last look at Jim, a worried smile, then he disappeared inside.
Good luck. It was all Jim could say about that. He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, closed his eyes, and waited. There was nothing else he could do.
Roughly fifteen minutes passed before the door opened again. McCoy exited the door, followed by a tall man in a gray uniform. Something about the man seemed familiar, but Jim couldn't put his finger on it. McCoy was smiling, so at least that was good. "Captain, this is Jim Kirk. Guy I told you about. Jim, this here is Captain Pike." His eyes passed between the two men. "Um, he's the one that found me back home, talked me into signing up," McCoy added.
The Captain was looking at Jim with appraising eyes. "I understand I have you to thank for getting Doctor McCoy here," he said, extending a hand toward Jim.
Jim hesitated, looking up thoughtfully at the older man. Jim took the offered hand, after scrubbing his own once against his jeans, and shook it. "...Couldn't just leave him stranded like that... sir." The respectful term was barely remembered at the end and it fell flat from his tongue without respect behind it. Jim only respected someone who deserved it, not just anyone with a uniform.
He watched Pike get an odd look on his face before the captain looked over to McCoy. "Leonard, you mind if I have a little chat here with Jim?" Pike asked. McCoy looked a bit startled at the question, but nodded and took the seat beside Jim. Jim frowned, watching Pike's eyes. What did the old man want with him? What was he up to? Despite his better judgment, going instead with his curiosity and a bit of instinct, Jim followed Pike into his office. He could feel McCoy's eyes burning into his back before the door shut.
Even though Pike indicated he should, Jim didn't immediately sit down. Instead, he studied the office from where he stood as Pike took a seat behind a large desk. He wanted a feel for the man, someone who saw the genius in McCoy through what Jim had to barely guess was probably an alcoholic cloud when Pike found the doctor. Those grey eyes were piercing, looking through the person and the masks they wore to something that lay beneath, bared and naked. Jim generally hated those sorts of men. In this office though, it spoke of a different man. It wasn't stark and filled with medals and ribbons and plaques like Jim imagined of a captain of Starfleet. Instead, Jim saw a small home away from home. There were pictures on the walls of people, places, animals that had to be pets. Horses and people, including Pike, riding them. The stark desert captured in its beauty at sunrise. One ribbon, Jim was amused to find. It was for a riding championship. The captain must have a strong love for horses.
"I couldn't believe when McCoy told me who you are," Pike broke the silence in the office with that statement, causing Jim to turn around and finally face him. He still chose not to sit down. Not yet.
"... And who am I, Captain Pike?" Jim's voice took on a naturally heavy tone of sarcasm.
"Your father's son." Jim felt his heart pause with that statement, with Pike's slight smile that played about the lips. He tried to keep anything he felt from his face, keeping his expression light as Pike continued, "There was something I admired about your dad... he didn't believe in no-win scenarios."
And neither did his son. Father's son indeed, but not the one that Pike wanted him to be. "He sure learned his lesson." Some of the bitterness of the years couldn't be kept out of that, no matter how hard Jim tried. Maybe he just didn't want to, wanted Pike to hear it.
"Depends on how you define winning. You're here, aren't you?" Jim just gave Pike a look for that, wanting to snap back a response about how it wouldn't have mattered because he wouldn't have been born. There was something in him that rebelled against everything Pike was, that the man stood for. Instead, Pike continued, "That instinct to leap without looking? ...That was his nature, too." Jim watched Pike's eyes move away from his for the first time and to something on the wall. Jim walked over to it, not missing the twist of expression on Pike's face that indicated uncertainty. Jim studied the clump of pictures, wondering what dragged Pike's gaze over here.
"In my opinion, it's something..." Pike was still talking, but Jim phased it out as he caught sight of one particular picture. He reached out, uncaring, and pulled it off the wall to get a better look. It was a young man, with blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. His arm was looped over the shoulders of a far younger Christopher Pike, and both were grinning like fools. Something he admired indeed. "...phaser cannon." Jim vaguely heard behind him from the desk.
He stared down at the picture, at a man that didn't look all that different from himself. Something in him knew, without being told, it was a picture of his father. Pike had not only known his father... but from the positioning, from the casual clothing... they had been friends.
His voice was tighter than he would have liked, but it was easier to throw in a dark laugh with his back to Pike, "...Why are you talking to me?"
"I looked up your file while McCoy was in here. Your aptitude tests were off the charts, and so is your criminal record. What is it... d'you like being the only genius level offender in the mid-west?" Mid-west? Jim's mind struggled to figure out why Pike had said mid-west specifically when Jim realized that in all of those years, he had never bothered to change his home address from Frank's place in Riverside. What was the point in changing it when you never stayed in one place long enough for anyone to care?
So he smirked, almost amused as his eyes closed. "Maybe I love it." The type of answer that infuriated anyone, especially cops. He knew that from too many past experiences that he didn't learn from.
"So your daddy dies and you can settle for a less-than-ordinary life." Jim heard the chair behind the desk creak, and he stood up just as Pike got up close to him, no more than three feet away. His voice was pitched lower, those piercing eyes locked to his. "Or do you feel like you're meant for something better? Something special?" Jim took an unsteady breath, the fierce gaze almost throwing him off as much as the statement itself had. Without knowing it, or maybe the old bastard knew exactly what he was doing, Pike had hit a deep nerve. That something special... Jim could feel the sweat on his palms, and he shifted the picture frame between them.
"Come to think of it," Jim started, a sarcasm in his voice that belayed what he was feeling, "I do want to feel special. You know what?" A smirk came as easily as breathing. "I'm gonna go start a book club--"
"Enlist in Starfleet."
The statement threw Jim completely off guard. He stared at Pike, then laughed. What the hell was this guy even talking about? Did Pike seriously think he would? "Enlist? You must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month--"
But Pike cut off that with a voice as sharp as a blade, "If you're half the man your father was, Jim, Starfleet could use you. You could be an officer in four years, have your own ship in eight." Pike seemed to know every damn thing that could get under his skin, pulling him apart and making him think on something he had made a choice about a long, long time ago. That rebellion in Jim only came on stronger with the push of authority, with that voice of choice, that tone of possible destiny that could be in his hands. He made his own choices.
Jim turned on his heel, walking towards the door. He let the picture frame slip from his hands onto the seat of one of the chairs in front of the desk, but the image stayed framed in his mind. "We're done, right? I can go."
But as Jim started towards the door, Pike grabbed his arm. Even as his muscles flexed, wanting to toss the Captain's hand from him, Jim met those eyes and they froze him on the spot. "...Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's. Including yours. I dare you to do better."
The hand released him, but it was the eyes that kept Jim from moving just a few heart beats longer. When Pike turned away from him, Jim didn't hesitate to leave the office with barely even a pause to let the doors part for him. He didn't stop until he was in front of McCoy, and he only turned his head to glance at the man he had brought partway across the country, had shared far more than a cycle with. "...I should get going." Jim mentally cursed the tightness in his voice, but Pike's words, his actions, had steeled up a wall inside of him. It kept out what he didn't want, kept him his own man. Away from any ties that caused everything to go wrong in the past.
Jim kept walking, back along the path towards the exit of the building.
McCoy was following him. "Hey, Jim-" he called out, almost at a jog. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." The lie was a familiar one, "I just don't like stuffed shirts thinking they know me better than I know myself."
McCoy's face was a mixture of confusion, concern, and affection. "You want to talk about it?" he asked, getting in between Jim and the door.
Having McCoy block his path, stop him, made Jim's eyes narrow. It was a stupid, irrational anger that burned through him after the conversation with Pike, but as he met McCoy's eyes he felt it fade away into something harder and more bitter inside of him. What did Pike think he knew... "No, not really." Which was the truth. He stopped there in front of the door, staring at McCoy.
"Look," McCoy said, reaching an arm out to Jim, not touching him, but almost. "It’s too late for me to get into the dorms tonight, offices are all closed," he said, looking over in the direction of the apartment-like buildings. "Pike offered me his couch tonight. Why don’t you stick around?"
A slow breath out. Like hell he was going to take a handout from Pike. "...I really don't want to sleep on some old man's couch," Jim said tightly, his eyes focused on that out-stretched hand. "Just going to find somewhere for the night and head out in the morning." He couldn't stay, not like this.
"That's okay," McCoy said, nodding, dropping his hand to the side with a sigh. "Then we’ll go find something else, go sleep in the park or somethin’." A shy smile, something genuine and real. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I’m just not ready to let go of you yet."
The statement made Jim start, and the anger fell away in an instant as he looked at McCoy in confusion. ...What? What did that mean? They were here. He had gotten McCoy to his destination, McCoy had held up his end of the deal. Why did the doctor still want him around? Especially when he had an offer of a warm, at least semi-comfortable place for the night?
...That smile... "You..." For once, words didn't leap to his lips. His voice was unsure instead of his normal, confident tone. "You sure?"
"Yeah," McCoy grinned. "Fuck yeah, let's go find some cheap food and a place to bed down. We can just talk, if you want, just..." McCoy laughed again. "I don't know what's going on, just that I don't want it to be over yet."
Jim wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so instead he just gave a little smile. "Good, cuz you'll be pulling a paycheck at some point." It was meant to lighten, to tease, and he hoped it got at least some of that through. "Come on then, Cadet. I know a place we can go." It definitely wasn't his first time in San Francisco; the city's draws were just too strong not to have seen at some point. Just avoided it, though he wouldn't have admitted to avoiding it, because of... well, something basically just like this. Starfleet.
Least he had someone to enjoy it with, for the night.
"Gimme a second," McCoy told him, jogging back to say a few words to Pike, who was leaving the building. The captain looked back over at Jim, then back at McCoy, telling him a few more words before they shook hands and parted. "Okay, I know where I gotta be in the morning. Where we headed?" he asked, eyes dancing.
"They going to put you through the paperwork paces come morning?" Jim teased, feeling a little better. He stepped past McCoy and nudged their shoulders together. "I know a little place. Come on." He went out to his cycle and slipped onto the vehicle. There was something natural to the feeling of McCoy getting on behind him, bodies used to the arrangement after days of travel.
Jim showed McCoy what he knew of San Francisco, pointing and talking from the back of the cycle. He knew the underside of the city a little, despite mostly avoiding the place altogether, but someone like him had to learn the grimy backside of any city if he wanted to survive in the reality of it. They got cheap Asian food at a dive of a restaurant run by an old couple who knew how to really cook. They avoided the area around the Academy and the Golden Gate Bridge, all the major tourist traps where everything was crowded and expensive. They ended the sight-seeing tour, as Jim amused himself by calling it, in a back-alley bar where the drinks were cheap, not always legal, and the biggest deals in the universe that had both nothing and everything to do with Starfleet were made.
Jim had the bartender mix up two 'special' drinks, ones made with all their glowing orange beauty. The bartender tapped in something at the end, 'the special kick' Jim could remember the man calling it the first time he had found this place. Jim wasn't entirely sure what type of drug it was, but knew it didn't leave him feeling like shit later and didn't come up on scans after 8 hours. Learned that last fact the hard way, unfortunately.
Feeling playful, Jim was inclined not to inform McCoy of exactly what his drink was until he placed the drink into McCoy's hand and grinned. "To your future." Jim held up his glass, tone sarcastic but his eyes warm.
McCoy took the drink and met Jim's eyes, then raised his glass before tilting his head back and slamming it. Jim saw the glass twitch, nearly falling out of McCoy's hand, as the doctor's eyes widened. "Wow." He shook a little, exhaling slow. "Damn, Jim." Neither of them said much else for a while, while the burn of the drink seared their throats and left behind its warmth in their stomachs. This was something he liked about McCoy, about being around McCoy - the doctor didn't feel the need to constantly fill the silence with small talk and noise. They could comfortably be there, no talking needed, and enjoy it. Made it easier to forget that tomorrow it would be over.
"...so you're gonna go out and be some famous doctor, curing diseases..." Jim murmured as he stared thoughtfully at a beer that he was nursing. "All funded by Starfleet. ...Why they making you join the Academy, anyway, if they want what you're already doing?" His brows furrowed at the thought, a frown on his lips. Didn't make much sense.
"Starfleet bullshit," McCoy shrugged. "Being a doctor is one thing. Space is somethin' else entirely. Then there's language classes, comparative governments, basic tenets of the Prime Directive..." McCoy's mouth pursed, as he looked down into his beer chaser. "Hopefully once that shit is over it'll just be Alien A&P and I can just get to work." He let a few moment pass quiet, tapping his fingers against the bar. Every once in a while it looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end seemed to change his mind. Probably better that way, for both of them.
"How many languages do they force you to learn? You know any now?" Jim asked, curiosity perked. He leaned back further in his chair, looking at McCoy in the low light of the bar. Behind them, Jim could hear two men speaking in low tones about a shipment of something or other. "A&P? ...something... and protocol?" Jim hazarded a guess.
"There is some basic medical terminology in the major Federation languages," McCoy replied, laughing, "and I'm goddamn useless when it comes to off-world languages." He took another long drink of the beer, then sighed, looking at it as if realizing they were on a budget and this might be it for the night. He put the bottle on the bar, just holding it. "And no, it's Anatomy and Physiology. Something useful, you know?" He gave Jim a bit of a weary look. "Not like I don't have any experience with those from off-planet, but there ain't a hell of a lot of Klingons in North Georgia."
That made Jim laugh, grinning wide. "If you'll consider that useful," he teased, leaning on his elbow. "Wish I could help you out..." He could hear his own voice taking on a wistful tone, "I love languages. Can speak a bunch of them." He leaned over suddenly and whispered against McCoy's ear, "Means I got a talented tongue."
McCoy's hand slid to Jim's thigh, his head turning toward him. "Fuck yes, darlin', I know," he whispered, grinning like they were sharing a secret. "Maybe you could remind me some of that later, you think?"
Jim's thigh flexed under McCoy's hand, and he grinned as he turned his head a little more to brush their lips together. "I think I'll show you everything I've got." He could breathe in and taste McCoy's breath. "...Going to show me... everything those hands can do?" He slid his hand over McCoy's, grin turning to smirk. More than a good mouth, a pair of good hands was worth far more. A doctor's should have been the most skilled of all.
"All over you," McCoy spoke into Jim's mouth, that little smile on his face, flushed with probably more than the alcohol. "Everywhere," he added softly, his eyes dancing around Jim's face, his eyes, his mouth, his chest. "You got any idea how good you look?" He immediately laughed again, touching Jim's face with one hand quick before dropping it with a growl. "...Yeah, you know. You know how fuckin' sexy you are, don't ya?"
"Oh, I know. I know..." He reached out to squeeze McCoy's thigh, "Question is... do you? Fuck, all down ol' Southern charm and twang..." Jim breathed out against his lips, biting down on the lower one. McCoy made a little noise back, exhaling.
McCoy's hand covered Jim, pressing into his own leg. "Fuck, kid... what are you doing to me?" he murmured, his eyes locked on Jim's like they were the only two people in the bar.
Jim didn't answer with words. He kissed McCoy slow, almost tender except for the hunger in it. The alcohol took away the knowledge that he couldn't keep this (didn't want to, didn't want to, he was on his own) because tomorrow it would shatter like the fragile glass it was, and left him instead with a hunger that stroked his ego and desires. And fuck if McCoy wasn't kissing him back, just as needy, pulling back only when they needed to take a breath.
It was like being drunk. Pressing their foreheads together to steady himself, Jim whispered, "Let's get out of here."
McCoy nodded, dropping his head to nuzzle a little after he was done talking. "C'mon then," he growled in a low voice. He stood and pulled Jim up with him, one hand on Jim's hip as they walked through the dark establishment and out the front door. Once outside McCoy pulled Jim close to him again, another long, slow kiss before moving onto the cycle.
McCoy got the somewhat uncomfortable experience of getting driven around by a not-so-slightly drunk man to find a cheap hotel, but despite their inebriation, they managed to book the room and get into it without killing themselves. Jim didn't waste any time, and as soon as the door shut he pressed McCoy up against it. Jim eased his lips over McCoy's, his hand going to the back of the doctor's neck and squeezing the thick muscle of it. His mind spun, just a little, and something in the pit of his stomach almost giddily wondered what the doctor had in mind.
The first thing seemed to be removing Jim's shirt, the thin cotton tee quickly pulled over Jim's head as McCoy's mouth moved from one side of his neck to the other, tasting and licking at the roughened skin. The doctor's hands were soon on his ass, pulling their groins together so Jim could feel that gorgeous thick cock through just a few layers of denim, leaving no doubt how aroused McCoy was. Those skilled hands moved to the front, and began pulling at the snaps of Jim's jeans. "Bed," he growled low in Jim's ears as his fingers pulled down the zipper, darting inside. "Want you in a fuckin' bed tonight."
"You'll have me, promise... all over that bed..." Jim groaned at that deep voice in his ear, rocking slowly against the doctor's hand. He was getting hard fast, and those long fingered hands were a huge encouragement. "Long as you keep talkin' just like that."
"Hell yeah," McCoy murmured into Jim's ear, "I'll tell ya anything you wanna hear." McCoy let out a groan when his fingers wrapped around Jim's cock and he bit down on his collarbone, pulling back lightly with his teeth. "You feel so good, you know that? Fucking perfect in my hands." He began pulling Jim toward the bed, stopping only when the back of his knees hit the mattress. McCoy sat down, looking up at Jim as he mouthed his bare chest.
"You've got me all night, Len..." The doctor was almost desperate with it. "Shh..." Jim tilted McCoy's head so he could slide their lips together, closing his eyes. He'd make sure McCoy had something to hold onto just long enough for some lucky cadet to catch him. But for now, just for tonight it was them, together on that double bed in a cheap motel room. Them, kissing and touching and tasting and breathing each others' scent. The rest of their clothes were quickly discarded, and soon it was them, naked bodies sliding between the thin sheets. Jim rocked against McCoy as he tasted every bit of the doctor's skin, sometimes his lips catching on the faintest five o'clock shadow on McCoy's jawline, sometimes the edge of his nose finding the rounded edge of a muscle, sometimes biting lightly to get a reaction.
He found himself buried between those strong legs, nosing at the heavy sac up to the base of his cock, mouthing there without giving enough friction. Jim had every concept in his head of making McCoy beg for it until the need to fuck him went down to the doctor's very bones. McCoy was spreading his legs as wide as he could, lifting his hips into Jim's face yet still, was denied real satisfaction. "Goddammit Jim," he groaned, his fingers threading through Jim's hair, trying to guide Jim's head onto his aching cock.
"You know, something tells me you want something more," Jim's voice was all liquid tease, his eyes playful as he gave a lick up the length of McCoy's cock. "Can't imagine what it could be since you're not telling me..."
At that, McCoy's fingers tightened in Jim's hair, lifting his head slightly as he grasped at his own cock. "How 'bout I show you?" he told Jim, giving his shaft a quick pump before brushing it across Jim's lips, parting them slightly with his cockhead. "You like that?"
The heat of Jim's tongue lapped once at the tip of the head as it got within distance, Jim giving a positive, pleased sound in response to McCoy's question. It was incredibly erotic, staring up at the doctor's face and not looking away as his head was used, and McCoy was looking back at him with something between affection and adoration like he couldn't believe he was here with Jim. Like he didn't deserve this amazing creature between his legs.
And as he pushed his cock slowly into Jim's mouth, McCoy shuddered and flushed, and Jim could feel the rumble of his satisfaction. Jim shifted up enough to have his elbows bracing his upper torso up, and he took it in as far as he could until his nose brushed dark curled hair. He gave a swallow, careful of the sensation, then gave the smallest bob of his head. It was letting McCoy control it, if the doctor took the opportunity. Then it was just the push and pull of sex, the heavy scent in his nose and mouth, the tiny half-heard curses in his ears that kept Jim going, never giving in fully while letting McCoy build himself up. Jim wanted McCoy to last, wanted to wake the doctor up in a few hours and do it all again. It was the easiest way for two people to talk without ever saying a single word, touches of the hands that both spoke the truth and lied in language spoken with the fingers. Of all the languages Jim could speak, it was the one he spoke the most naturally, born to do it.
Jim was quickly finding that when it came to McCoy, it was the language the both of them spoke where they could actually understand each other.
It was hard to tell if McCoy was holding back or not. Judging from the sounds he was making, the way his fingers were pressing deep into Jim's scalp it seemed as if he was going for broke, then all of a sudden he'd pull back, groaning and throwing his head back, only to resume the upward thrusts a moment later, fucking Jim's mouth slow and deep. After a while he looked down at Jim, eyes wide and locked on Jim's face, breathing hard. "Not gonna be able to stop soon, you keep that up."
Well, he couldn't let that happen. Jim licked his lips as he pulled his head back, lips parted. "...You got two options," a little smirk, pleased, as he recalled his words from earlier. "Can get you off right now, let you come in my throat and lick you clean... or you'll gonna have to show me where that lube is so I can get fucked nice and deep."
McCoy shivered visibly with those words, the grin on his face as wide as Jim had ever seen. "How 'bout this," he drawled, sitting up on his elbows, looking down his stomach at Jim settled between his legs. "How 'bout you keep that up, with that damned mouth of yours, and then I'll show you where the lube is so you can fuck me nice and deep."
A quick breath in from Jim would have told McCoy everything. His lips spread into a huge grin and he leaned forward to press their lips together. "I'll make you feel so good." Just a quiet promise, feeling himself throb between his thighs. "Show me where the lube is now, and I'll make sure you're ready to beg for it."
"I got it." McCoy slid out from under Jim long enough to grab a little tube of ointment from his medical kit and put it in Jim's hand, reaching up to cup Jim's cheek with the other hand. McCoy was looking at him, darkened eyes searing into him, asking a hundred questions without saying a word. He brought their lips together for another heated, wet kiss before he leaned back on the bed, scooting back up on the mattress to give Jim room.
Jim let out a breath, wondering if McCoy had found the answers he was looking for. He opened up the lube but didn't immediately put it on his fingers. Instead, he got comfortable again and took McCoy back into his mouth, actions less deliberate and more to establish what had been happening before the lube was needed. It wasn't until he felt McCoy getting back into it with tiny motions of his hips, eyes closing, that Jim squeezed some of the lube out and rubbed the tip of his index finger against tight flesh to encourage it to relax. Something told him to take it slow with McCoy, nice and easy, that it had probably been a while for the other man since anyone had taken him. One finger became two, stretching him with a deliberate slowness, listening as McCoy grunted and cursed with each twist of his hand, distracting the doctor with his mouth.
But before long, McCoy was there again, groaning and panting and grabbing at Jim's head and shoulders. "...Jim, can't stop-" and he shook, his body clenching around Jim's fingers. Jim got all the good luck in the world to watch every expression on the doctor's face as he came. When it was over, McCoy sprawled on the mattress, sated and breathing heavily. The hand in Jim's hair continued to play with the strands as McCoy laid there, eyes still closed. Jim knew it'd be a little while for the doctor, so he took enough time to get a towel from the bathroom and wipe his hand clean before laying back down. McCoy would stay loose and lubed at least, but Jim could barely wait. He slid a hand down between his legs and squeezed himself, sighing against McCoy where he laid. It'd feel so good to slide into him; he was already betting just from what he could feel that McCoy would be tight.
They turned toward each other and kissed again. McCoy was moving slow and lazy against Jim, looking content as he rubbed his legs against Jim's. His hand slid to Jim's cock, joining Jim's fingers to stroke him. He was watching Jim again, that look in his eyes asking Jim for more. Jim just smirked, a little. "Soon." He wanted McCoy to recover, at least a little, before he took the doctor. His head fell back, rolling his hips into their interlaced fingers.
McCoy seemed to be coming back to life, his mouth finding Jim's neck again as he gripped Jim's cock. He was licking at the thin skin at the throat, tasting the skin like it was dinner, biting lightly and pulling back with his teeth until Jim groaned aloud. "You taste so good, you know that?" McCoy murmured, licking at the slightly bitten skin. He pressed his flaccid cock against Jim's hip and groaned. "Damn, you got me acting like a kid here."
"Good, cuz you're not an old man yet," Jim teased, head tilted back so McCoy's teeth could do what they wanted. He was going to have bruises, that was for sure, because most of those bites were nothing gentle. He turned his hand so he could rub his thumb against McCoy's wrist, groaning quietly.
"Felt old. You changed that." McCoy was speaking into Jim's skin, so softly it was hard to hear his words clearly. He was rubbing against Jim's hip, his breath catching as he spoke. "Want you so much."
Changed that. It was a weird statement, striking closer to home than McCoy probably realized. Jim let out a breath and he shifted, sliding one of his hands under the doctor's thigh so he could pick up his leg and hook it over his elbow to keep it up. He turned McCoy over and moved up behind him so he could bite gently on the back of the other man's neck. Jim reached down, squeezing himself again to take the edge off, before nudging himself against McCoy's entrance. "Just relax for me..." A quiet murmur before he bit down again, slowly pressing in. He had been right. McCoy was tight, enough to make him groan hard against skin that still smelled of Georgia sun.
"...fuck," McCoy groaned, leaning back against Jim. His hands gripped the sheets tight, clawing as Jim filled him, sliding in completely until his balls pressed against firm muscle. The muscles in McCoy's back quivered when Jim touched him and he pressed his head into the pillow. Jim felt himself shaking as he stroked McCoy's chest, brushed over his abdomen, and curled his fingers around still flaccid flesh and gave a little stroke.
"Come on, just relax..." McCoy's body had him like a vice, almost painful, but Jim distracted both of them with small touches, tasting each inch of skin he could get at along the doctor's shoulder, neck, and ear. "Just me, just Jim..." The words came out without much thought behind them, used more for the tone than the meaning of the words themselves. Jim's voice was pitched low, quiet, and had a tone almost like desperation. He wanted to move, but shit. Jim wanted, needed McCoy to enjoy this. If his partner didn't, he didn't.
Then McCoy pushed back against Jim, his hips shifting, encouraging that small movement. One of his hands slipped down to Jim's hip and he grasped at the warm skin. "Do it." It was another quiet voice, asking, imploring. Wanting to feel all of it, willing his body to relax. Jim didn't need any other encouragement. He rocked his hips once, getting a feel for the position. He slid his hand up higher, pulling McCoy's knee upward just that bit more for a better angle, and gave another shallow thrust. He moved in short strokes, urging McCoy's body to loosen up. Jim buried his face at the back of McCoy's neck as he fucked the doctor slow.
"Touch yourself," Jim murmured, wishing he could see McCoy doing it. Instead, he listened for the quiet hitch of breath that told him the doctor had done just that, heard as each breath became more erratic instead of matching his thrusting. Soon he could feel the movement, small but strong tugs that rocked McCoy's body against Jim's rhythmic motions. He imagined McCoy's eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly. Long fingers would be curled around his thick cock, his thumb flicking over the head, probably still sensitive from his first orgasm. The images alone made Jim moan quietly, speeding up his thrusts into the body against his. His hand tightened where it was tucked under McCoy's thigh, turning his head enough to nip hard enough to leave behind a bruise then sucking on the skin to make it stick. A small visual reminder to match the bite-bruise on McCoy's shoulder.
There was a hiss at the bite, McCoy growling just a little as Jim's teeth left their mark. He was moving under Jim, unable to keep still, grinding into his hand and back against Jim's slow thrusts. Their movements were fluid, more graceful than fucking should have been, and didn't stop even as McCoy lifted himself up on one elbow and turned his head toward Jim, looking for his mouth. Jim tilted his head to catch McCoy's lips, breathing hard through his nose as he kissed the doctor back as if hungry for it. He knew he was getting close, could feel himself drawing up and threatening to end it. He tugged on McCoy's lower lip before setting his forehead against the other man's temple, panting as his motions became more erratic.
"Fuck, Jim..." McCoy was groaning as the kiss ended, holding himself up by his elbows as his body was driven forward by deeper thrusts. He reached for one of Jim's hands and grabbed it tight, bruising force as he tightened his fingers around Jim's. The positioning was awkward and Jim groaned as pain mixed together with pleasure. He pressed his face against McCoy's shoulder as he finally came, gasping wetly against the hot skin and staining it with his breath, pressing himself deep into McCoy until the world ended and began in the same place.
Jim came back down, eyes staying closed as he just breathed, holding onto McCoy in every way that he could. Their fingers laced together as McCoy stirred, still laying contentedly under Jim. He made a quiet sound before finally speaking, his face half-pressed into his pillow. "...Was amazing."
That brought a small smile to Jim's face. "Mmm mmm..." He just let himself drift for a little bit, nails scratching lightly against McCoy's stomach before a thought, a real one, floated to the surface. "...You come?" Jim muttered.
McCoy shifted at the touch, chuckling. "Stop that," he laughed some more, then shook his head. "Nah, too wrung out from before." A few seconds passed before he grinned, cracking an eye open. "How 'bout you?"
"Ya think?" Jim gave a quiet, tired laugh, but kept up the motions of his fingers. He could feel the minute flexing of muscles there... oh ho? Jim grinned. Was McCoy ticklish? Apparently so, from the way he was arching, backing away from the touch.
One of McCoy's hands reached for Jim's, trying to stop him. "Cut it out, Jim," he laughed, rolling onto his side.
Jim just gave McCoy a sly yet somehow sheepish grin, "What, I wasn't doing anything?" It occurred to him, laying there laughing with McCoy, still reeking and covered in sex, that he couldn't remember the last time... or... any time... he had felt so comfortable with someone. Like he had known McCoy far long than a few days. How was the doc getting under his skin? McCoy seemed comfortable enough, tucking Jim under his arm and pulling him close, amazing how they fit together so well.
And not just physically. They both liked the quiet - there was no need to make small talk. The silence was friendly rather than worrisome, and when it was broken, it was by McCoy who took a deep breath and slapped Jim's hip. "We should shower."
"No." Jim's smirk came through in his voice. "Comfortable." He stretched out, but did let McCoy get up if he so wanted.
"Brat." McCoy nosed at his throat. "Been almost two days and a thousand miles since I had a shower, and I'm takin' one before I fall asleep here." He pulled back, stretching his arms over his head. "You sure?" he asked, his face half-hidden in the dark as he took a few steps toward the bathroom.
"Doctor Cock Tease," Jim grumbled without any anger, smiling just a little as he got up, stretching out some kinks from his body before he followed McCoy into the bathroom. His mind was already conjuring up plans to make sure that McCoy was fully taken care of.
It didn't take long for the bathroom to get warm and steamy while McCoy pulled Jim into the small shower with him. McCoy twisted, popping his back with a groan as the hot water hit him. "Damn, that's what I needed." Jim smirked as he watched McCoy act in the hot water like a cat in the sun, stretching out to his fullest and enjoying it. He leaned back against the wall of the shower, watching in his amusement and waiting for the doctor to give up the water. "I know you like that bike of yours," McCoy grumbled, pulling Jim close to him, and under the spray of the water, "but my back is killing me. Don't know how you travel like that all the time."
"Probably 'cause I'm used to it," Jim reminded him, letting the doctor pull him close. "After years, I don't even notice or have to stop that often." He bent his head so he could mouth against McCoy's jawline, smirking. "...Already got a five o'clock shadow there, doc."
McCoy laughed. "Yeah, that happens sometimes," he scratched at his face, "and I'm glad you're used to it. Me, I got this ache in my bones, from just three days on the cycle with you." He picked up the soap, turned Jim around so he was facing the opposite way, and began washing Jim's back. "Don't know how long its gonna take to get rid of."
"Wait," Jim said as if he was shocked, "you mean I didn't manage to rattle those old bones of yours enough to shake out all that ache?" He couldn't help the teasing, it just came naturally. The sarcasm flowed off his tongue easier than gentle words when he was even the slightest bit unsure of himself.
"Not yet you haven't," McCoy retorted, kissing the back of his neck. "Maybe another round later, though, that might do it." He lathered up Jim's hair and began rubbing at the scalp. "You know, Jim, doesn't have to end yet."
The statement made Jim tense up, and he tilted his head so he could see McCoy's face from the corner of his eye. "...What?" Tone quiet under the sound of the shower.
"This, you and me." McCoy turned Jim back around so they were facing each other. He held his head back into the stream of water, gently washing the soap out, not quite looking into Jim's eyes as he spoke. "San Francisco's a big place. Lots to do here." His eyes darted around Jim's face before finally looking him in the eye. "You don't have to leave yet."
The words tightened like a noose around Jim's heart. He met McCoy's dark eyes, cursed silently how they always seemed to be staring right into the depths of him specially when the doctor was wearing that one particular look. The shower seemed to fall silent around them, though Jim could still feel the beat of the water against his arms and shoulders. McCoy treated him like something special, like he was worth something, but at the same time treated him like a normal human being.
Jim swallowed to work up some wetness in his throat to speak. "Dunno," the first word was weak, quiet, but Jim forced the rest of the sentence to come out stronger, "have to see if there's something in this city that'll keep me here."
McCoy nodded his head. "Right." His lips curled into a little smile. "Still, something to think 'bout." Somehow the man managed to look sad and hopeful at the same time. His fingers were combing through Jim's wet hair now, tugging it back so they were looking at each other. "Just- think about it," he murmured before leaning in for a kiss, the spray of the water hitting both of them. Jim let the kiss happen, even encouraged it by bringing his hands up to cup McCoy's cheeks.
Despite his attempts to not think about McCoy's suggestion at all, it stayed worrying at the back of his mind.
"Come on, Mr. Old Bones.. turn around and I'll get your back," Jim finally said, teasing because it was easier than continuing that line of conversation.
McCoy pressed against Jim, leaning him against the cool tile. "Damn, you don't gotta call me old, Jim," he muttered, nuzzling into his hair.
Jim was silent for a second, then he grinned. "Okay then, Bones it is," he said instead, laughing as he nudged McCoy off him and urged him to turn around, giving a squeeze to both of his shoulders and rubbing his palms into the muscle to make up for his teasing.
"Don't call me that, either," McCoy gruffed, though the look in his eyes was fond. He lifted his arms, crossing them and leaned against the tile, giving Jim even more skin to work on. "Fuck, that feels good." Arching his back like a cat, he groaned under Jim's fingers. Jim just smiled as he got to work, ignoring the soap for now to instead start massaging the thick muscle at the base of the neck, the shoulders, and down the back.
Only when Jim got to tease McCoy about the sounds he was making Bones you sound like an amorous cat and received a grumpy Stop calling me that, brat in return did Jim grab for the soap and actually wash the dust and sex off of McCoy. The gentle touches didn't do much to stop those sounds coming out of McCoy, who shuddered and turned, pulling Jim back into his arms for a deep kiss. "I think we're both clean enough, don't you?" he asked, his voice rough from need. He was hard again, nudging at Jim's hip with his erection.
"...Well, a part of you doesn't seem to think so," Jim smirked as he reached down and curved his fingers around McCoy's cock. "This part of you seems to want a whole lot more."
Another grunt at the touch to McCoy's cock. "Just a little more, Jim," he murmured, nuzzling his neck. "That alright?"
"More than alright," Jim murmured back, stroking slowly.
Everything was far from alright.
Jim caught only about an hour of sleep before he found himself wide, wide awake. His eyes stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, mind racing with thoughts. The man curled up beside him was dead to the world, tucked up against Jim like twins in the womb. One hand was loose over his chest, and Jim could feel the breath against his neck.
He wondered how that subtle, constant noise hadn't kept him awake. Now it was his own spinning thoughts that did the job instead.
Two people in one day had asked him to stay somewhere, stay in one place. Give up the lifestyle he had known for years. The lifestyle he had built up himself from nothing at all. Every part of him rebelled against the idea of that, brought to mind images of prisons and writing on the wall. Yet McCoy--no, his mind decided to humor him, Bones now, because it frustrated the doctor--had been the one to offer his hand...
Jim sighed and slowly, careful not to wake Bones, shifted out from beside him. Once on the edge of the bed, he froze and looked back to see if the other man would wake. But he didn't wake. Too tired from the day's journey and all they'd done together that night - Bones slept on, not knowing what was happening just a foot away. Instead he rolled over, wrapped his arms around his pillow, and dreamt on.
Good. Sleep well, Bones. Jim reached out, brushing his fingers just once over the dark tousled hair still slightly damp from their long shower. In the morning, Bones would get himself sorted out with Pike, would get into the Academy... and live a good life. Get money to see that little girl of his, save lives. Jim liked the idea of it, and was glad he could make it happen. Least he could fix one person's life.
He stood up silently in the dark room and started to pull on his dirty clothing. He knew he needed to get them washed, needed some new things. Thanks to being with another person on his cycle for the last few days, Jim wasn't sure about his resources in the areas of supplies, food, and credits. It didn't matter, he had made due with nothing in the past when it was necessary, and he could do it now. Jim had ways of making money when he needed it.
Right now, he knew more than anything he couldn't stay here. Couldn't stay where he was so close to this man who kept making him question things, question his life, question himself.
It doesn't matter, you idiot. A few years, and what? He'll be off on some ship, some distant planet, and--
Stop it, what the hell am I thinking!? We're not talking years, we're not even talking a week. He just needs someone to take the edge of the pain of that divorce off and get laid, and I gave that to him. He'll get clingy, then find someone and go off with them. That's how it's supposed to work. Needs someone who can be there for him.
I'm not that kind of person. But he had been, once. Circumstance and fate had driven every bit of that out of him.
Jim packed up the last of his things, and looked across the room at the doctor asleep in the bed. He couldn't tell the smile on his face was a sad one instead of a sarcastic one, as he stood there in the dark and watched Bones sleeping peacefully. It would be easier for them both if he left before Bones woke up. Definitely easier for them both, Jim told himself. I'm a fucking hypocrite.
He left silently, only the soft click of the door to mark his departure.
Authors: salvaged_pride and sullacat
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary: In honor of the one year anniversary of the movie, an AU - What if Leonard McCoy had been at the bar that night? Two men, a cycle, and a trip that changes their lives. 9745 words -- Look for future chapters every other day.
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Distance Traveled:
The sun was up early the next morning. All the clouds were gone, leaving nothing but blue skies and bright sunrise in the east. But the first thing Jim noticed when opened his eyes was that he was alone. No warm body, no breathing against his skin. He sat up, blinking against the light as the blanket pooled around his waist. McCoy was gone. His stuff was still there, clothes and bag - but the man himself wasn't anywhere to be seen. Scratching his chest, Jim looked around one more time, wondering at what point he needed to get worried.
Before he could decide on getting up and checking for the doctor, Jim heard the shuffle of gravel and rocks outside, and Jim almost didn't recognize the man who entered the cave and headed towards him.
Wearing a pair of jeans and carrying a small bag, with damp and messy hair, McCoy walked up and gave Jim a warm smile. "Morning." McCoy had shaved, taken days, maybe weeks worth of scruff off his face and somehow that one simple act seemed to drop years off him. The grumpy, bitter doctor was gone and standing there was this fucking good-looking guy with warm eyes and a kind smile. Jim stared in shock, blinking slowly. "...Len?" Just to be sure.
"Yeah, Jim?" McCoy answered, grabbing a still damp t-shirt from the day before and toweling off his head.
Jim wasn't entirely sure what to do. He never had actually stayed 'til morning with someone before. What was he supposed to say to someone he let fuck him? "...You shaved." Nice, Jim. You sound like an idiot.
McCoy grinned, all sorts of little laugh lines in his face more easily seen. "Yeah," he said again, looking outside in the distance for a moment. "It was time. Besides," he added, grinning as he tucked the shaving kit into his travel bag, "I needed to do it before I got to the Academy. Don't want to look like a train wreck when I go to talk to the captain who found me."
The answer was odd enough to make him laugh, and Jim started to get up, stretching as the blanket fell away from him. "Yea, probably for the best." There was only a faint hint of soreness, which Jim could live with. He watched McCoy's little movements, almost smiling despite himself. The doctor just seemed... happier, like somehow Jim had managed to cure his sadness at least for a little while. I've got a magical healing ass, or something. The mental image made him chuckle as he gathered up the blankets, folding them. Then suddenly McCoy was behind him, as if drawn by the chuckle.
"Starving this mornin'," he whispered into Jim's ear, like a secret. "What we got to eat?"
It took an effort to keep from reacting to the sudden voice against his ear. Too much time on the streets where fast reactions were needed to save his life. Instead, Jim just froze up, counting to five in his head before he relaxed. Nothing wrong. "Don't know... should be something left." Came out as calm as he'd hoped, which was a relief.
"You hungry?" McCoy asked, heading over to the saddle bags on the bike. "Looks like we got protein bars, and um, more protein bars. What do you feel like?" he asked, little grin on his face.
"Well, with that amazing selection, I think I'll take... a protein bar." Jim smiled as he walked over, grabbing the bar when it was offered. He leaned against the stone wall as he opened the wrapper, biting into the bar. "Lot of ground to cover... we'll probably get into San Francisco about..." He tried to calculate it in his mind, the distance, the traffic around the city... and winced. "Shit, if we make it there by seventeen hundred it'll be a miracle." But... maybe... it would just call for some not exactly law-biding traffic maneuvering when they got near the big city.
McCoy's face changed to being tight, worried. "Let's see how far we get. If I gotta wait another day, then I gotta wait another day." McCoy didn't have much money left, Jim knew that, and there was a chance they might not take him tomorrow, depending on how hard-ass they wanted to be.
But Jim's mind was already at work. He knew McCoy's circumstances, at least to a point, and he had plans to do something about making sure things turned out right for the doctor. If he couldn't find a way to get McCoy there in time... he'd find out just how hard it was to hack his way into Starfleet. McCoy deserved the chance, more than he gave a shit about staying out from under the law. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it turns out right." It was a promise, spoken in certainty.
It took only a few minutes to pack their things, damp clothes mixing with dry but they didn't have time to care anymore - the sun was up and they needed to make ridiculous time to make it to San Francisco by afternoon. Jim took the first shift, getting them back to the more populated roads, roads he hated driving but ultimately would be easier to reach top speeds. They blazed through the rest of Nevada in a few hours, a straight shot down a highway Jim knew used to be called I-80 a hundred years ago, with McCoy's arms wrapped tight around him. They stopped outside Reno only to use the bathroom and eat what was left of their supplies some time way after lunch should have happened. It was there that they switched off and McCoy took them through the last of Nevada and through into California. He looked worried again, if Jim was any kind of guesser, because he kept catching McCoy looking down to check out the chronometer.
Eventually, Jim poked McCoy. "Let me drive." It had only been an hour since McCoy had taken over, however at a certain point it became obvious that they were behind schedule, the miles not ticking by as fast as the minutes. They switched again, and Jim opened up on the highway, faster and faster until it looked like they might actually have a shot. Jim leaned forward on the cycle and felt McCoy doing the same against his back as they went far beyond the speed limit. When they started to hit traffic, Jim gave McCoy only a quick warning of "Hold on tight."
The last hour was spent zig-zagging through traffic, bolting through small spaces between cars and trucks just trying to get ahead. Jim had a small device built into his cycle that was a product of a certain incident of his childhood learning that checked constantly for the signal put out by the highway and law patrol communication devices, and he could slow down fast when he saw a blip up ahead. Jim knew he was pushing the boundaries on not only his luck in keeping them from wiping out on the road, but the limit of time before he had to take more drastic measures to make sure McCoy would get in tonight.
It took a mixture of helpful, cheerful signs put up by the city and the information McCoy had gotten from Pike to find the Academy. Jim pulled up in front of a building that was as clean cut looking as the cadets of the Academy were supposed to be, tall symbols of the great Starfleet fluttering in the late-afternoon breeze. Same Starfleet that had ended up killing his father, taking everything that had mattered to a child.
Jim came to a stop, looking at the building in silence. "...This is it." His voice quiet.
"Yeah." McCoy looked nervous, fiddling with his hair. He looked wind-blown and sun burned and he needed a shower and so did Jim, but fuck it all, they were here. Jim had gotten him here. "Come inside with me?" McCoy asked, looking over at Jim.
Jim hesitated, staring at the entrance to the building before looking at McCoy. The doctor looked... it didn't matter how the doctor looked. He'd be leaving soon, after all. "...Sure, for a little bit," he relented, tucking the cycle off in the lot and shoving his hands into his pockets. He suddenly felt dirty, unclean.
Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, most of the doors they passed closed and lights off. McCoy's hands folded in front of him when they approached an office, 'Cpt. Pike, Christopher' stenciled neatly outside the door. Jim found a place to sit in one of the chairs, watching McCoy hesitate before pressing the chime next to the door. When it opened, McCoy gave a last look at Jim, a worried smile, then he disappeared inside.
Good luck. It was all Jim could say about that. He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, closed his eyes, and waited. There was nothing else he could do.
Roughly fifteen minutes passed before the door opened again. McCoy exited the door, followed by a tall man in a gray uniform. Something about the man seemed familiar, but Jim couldn't put his finger on it. McCoy was smiling, so at least that was good. "Captain, this is Jim Kirk. Guy I told you about. Jim, this here is Captain Pike." His eyes passed between the two men. "Um, he's the one that found me back home, talked me into signing up," McCoy added.
The Captain was looking at Jim with appraising eyes. "I understand I have you to thank for getting Doctor McCoy here," he said, extending a hand toward Jim.
Jim hesitated, looking up thoughtfully at the older man. Jim took the offered hand, after scrubbing his own once against his jeans, and shook it. "...Couldn't just leave him stranded like that... sir." The respectful term was barely remembered at the end and it fell flat from his tongue without respect behind it. Jim only respected someone who deserved it, not just anyone with a uniform.
He watched Pike get an odd look on his face before the captain looked over to McCoy. "Leonard, you mind if I have a little chat here with Jim?" Pike asked. McCoy looked a bit startled at the question, but nodded and took the seat beside Jim. Jim frowned, watching Pike's eyes. What did the old man want with him? What was he up to? Despite his better judgment, going instead with his curiosity and a bit of instinct, Jim followed Pike into his office. He could feel McCoy's eyes burning into his back before the door shut.
Even though Pike indicated he should, Jim didn't immediately sit down. Instead, he studied the office from where he stood as Pike took a seat behind a large desk. He wanted a feel for the man, someone who saw the genius in McCoy through what Jim had to barely guess was probably an alcoholic cloud when Pike found the doctor. Those grey eyes were piercing, looking through the person and the masks they wore to something that lay beneath, bared and naked. Jim generally hated those sorts of men. In this office though, it spoke of a different man. It wasn't stark and filled with medals and ribbons and plaques like Jim imagined of a captain of Starfleet. Instead, Jim saw a small home away from home. There were pictures on the walls of people, places, animals that had to be pets. Horses and people, including Pike, riding them. The stark desert captured in its beauty at sunrise. One ribbon, Jim was amused to find. It was for a riding championship. The captain must have a strong love for horses.
"I couldn't believe when McCoy told me who you are," Pike broke the silence in the office with that statement, causing Jim to turn around and finally face him. He still chose not to sit down. Not yet.
"... And who am I, Captain Pike?" Jim's voice took on a naturally heavy tone of sarcasm.
"Your father's son." Jim felt his heart pause with that statement, with Pike's slight smile that played about the lips. He tried to keep anything he felt from his face, keeping his expression light as Pike continued, "There was something I admired about your dad... he didn't believe in no-win scenarios."
And neither did his son. Father's son indeed, but not the one that Pike wanted him to be. "He sure learned his lesson." Some of the bitterness of the years couldn't be kept out of that, no matter how hard Jim tried. Maybe he just didn't want to, wanted Pike to hear it.
"Depends on how you define winning. You're here, aren't you?" Jim just gave Pike a look for that, wanting to snap back a response about how it wouldn't have mattered because he wouldn't have been born. There was something in him that rebelled against everything Pike was, that the man stood for. Instead, Pike continued, "That instinct to leap without looking? ...That was his nature, too." Jim watched Pike's eyes move away from his for the first time and to something on the wall. Jim walked over to it, not missing the twist of expression on Pike's face that indicated uncertainty. Jim studied the clump of pictures, wondering what dragged Pike's gaze over here.
"In my opinion, it's something..." Pike was still talking, but Jim phased it out as he caught sight of one particular picture. He reached out, uncaring, and pulled it off the wall to get a better look. It was a young man, with blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. His arm was looped over the shoulders of a far younger Christopher Pike, and both were grinning like fools. Something he admired indeed. "...phaser cannon." Jim vaguely heard behind him from the desk.
He stared down at the picture, at a man that didn't look all that different from himself. Something in him knew, without being told, it was a picture of his father. Pike had not only known his father... but from the positioning, from the casual clothing... they had been friends.
His voice was tighter than he would have liked, but it was easier to throw in a dark laugh with his back to Pike, "...Why are you talking to me?"
"I looked up your file while McCoy was in here. Your aptitude tests were off the charts, and so is your criminal record. What is it... d'you like being the only genius level offender in the mid-west?" Mid-west? Jim's mind struggled to figure out why Pike had said mid-west specifically when Jim realized that in all of those years, he had never bothered to change his home address from Frank's place in Riverside. What was the point in changing it when you never stayed in one place long enough for anyone to care?
So he smirked, almost amused as his eyes closed. "Maybe I love it." The type of answer that infuriated anyone, especially cops. He knew that from too many past experiences that he didn't learn from.
"So your daddy dies and you can settle for a less-than-ordinary life." Jim heard the chair behind the desk creak, and he stood up just as Pike got up close to him, no more than three feet away. His voice was pitched lower, those piercing eyes locked to his. "Or do you feel like you're meant for something better? Something special?" Jim took an unsteady breath, the fierce gaze almost throwing him off as much as the statement itself had. Without knowing it, or maybe the old bastard knew exactly what he was doing, Pike had hit a deep nerve. That something special... Jim could feel the sweat on his palms, and he shifted the picture frame between them.
"Come to think of it," Jim started, a sarcasm in his voice that belayed what he was feeling, "I do want to feel special. You know what?" A smirk came as easily as breathing. "I'm gonna go start a book club--"
"Enlist in Starfleet."
The statement threw Jim completely off guard. He stared at Pike, then laughed. What the hell was this guy even talking about? Did Pike seriously think he would? "Enlist? You must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month--"
But Pike cut off that with a voice as sharp as a blade, "If you're half the man your father was, Jim, Starfleet could use you. You could be an officer in four years, have your own ship in eight." Pike seemed to know every damn thing that could get under his skin, pulling him apart and making him think on something he had made a choice about a long, long time ago. That rebellion in Jim only came on stronger with the push of authority, with that voice of choice, that tone of possible destiny that could be in his hands. He made his own choices.
Jim turned on his heel, walking towards the door. He let the picture frame slip from his hands onto the seat of one of the chairs in front of the desk, but the image stayed framed in his mind. "We're done, right? I can go."
But as Jim started towards the door, Pike grabbed his arm. Even as his muscles flexed, wanting to toss the Captain's hand from him, Jim met those eyes and they froze him on the spot. "...Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's. Including yours. I dare you to do better."
The hand released him, but it was the eyes that kept Jim from moving just a few heart beats longer. When Pike turned away from him, Jim didn't hesitate to leave the office with barely even a pause to let the doors part for him. He didn't stop until he was in front of McCoy, and he only turned his head to glance at the man he had brought partway across the country, had shared far more than a cycle with. "...I should get going." Jim mentally cursed the tightness in his voice, but Pike's words, his actions, had steeled up a wall inside of him. It kept out what he didn't want, kept him his own man. Away from any ties that caused everything to go wrong in the past.
Jim kept walking, back along the path towards the exit of the building.
McCoy was following him. "Hey, Jim-" he called out, almost at a jog. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." The lie was a familiar one, "I just don't like stuffed shirts thinking they know me better than I know myself."
McCoy's face was a mixture of confusion, concern, and affection. "You want to talk about it?" he asked, getting in between Jim and the door.
Having McCoy block his path, stop him, made Jim's eyes narrow. It was a stupid, irrational anger that burned through him after the conversation with Pike, but as he met McCoy's eyes he felt it fade away into something harder and more bitter inside of him. What did Pike think he knew... "No, not really." Which was the truth. He stopped there in front of the door, staring at McCoy.
"Look," McCoy said, reaching an arm out to Jim, not touching him, but almost. "It’s too late for me to get into the dorms tonight, offices are all closed," he said, looking over in the direction of the apartment-like buildings. "Pike offered me his couch tonight. Why don’t you stick around?"
A slow breath out. Like hell he was going to take a handout from Pike. "...I really don't want to sleep on some old man's couch," Jim said tightly, his eyes focused on that out-stretched hand. "Just going to find somewhere for the night and head out in the morning." He couldn't stay, not like this.
"That's okay," McCoy said, nodding, dropping his hand to the side with a sigh. "Then we’ll go find something else, go sleep in the park or somethin’." A shy smile, something genuine and real. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I’m just not ready to let go of you yet."
The statement made Jim start, and the anger fell away in an instant as he looked at McCoy in confusion. ...What? What did that mean? They were here. He had gotten McCoy to his destination, McCoy had held up his end of the deal. Why did the doctor still want him around? Especially when he had an offer of a warm, at least semi-comfortable place for the night?
...That smile... "You..." For once, words didn't leap to his lips. His voice was unsure instead of his normal, confident tone. "You sure?"
"Yeah," McCoy grinned. "Fuck yeah, let's go find some cheap food and a place to bed down. We can just talk, if you want, just..." McCoy laughed again. "I don't know what's going on, just that I don't want it to be over yet."
Jim wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so instead he just gave a little smile. "Good, cuz you'll be pulling a paycheck at some point." It was meant to lighten, to tease, and he hoped it got at least some of that through. "Come on then, Cadet. I know a place we can go." It definitely wasn't his first time in San Francisco; the city's draws were just too strong not to have seen at some point. Just avoided it, though he wouldn't have admitted to avoiding it, because of... well, something basically just like this. Starfleet.
Least he had someone to enjoy it with, for the night.
"Gimme a second," McCoy told him, jogging back to say a few words to Pike, who was leaving the building. The captain looked back over at Jim, then back at McCoy, telling him a few more words before they shook hands and parted. "Okay, I know where I gotta be in the morning. Where we headed?" he asked, eyes dancing.
"They going to put you through the paperwork paces come morning?" Jim teased, feeling a little better. He stepped past McCoy and nudged their shoulders together. "I know a little place. Come on." He went out to his cycle and slipped onto the vehicle. There was something natural to the feeling of McCoy getting on behind him, bodies used to the arrangement after days of travel.
Jim showed McCoy what he knew of San Francisco, pointing and talking from the back of the cycle. He knew the underside of the city a little, despite mostly avoiding the place altogether, but someone like him had to learn the grimy backside of any city if he wanted to survive in the reality of it. They got cheap Asian food at a dive of a restaurant run by an old couple who knew how to really cook. They avoided the area around the Academy and the Golden Gate Bridge, all the major tourist traps where everything was crowded and expensive. They ended the sight-seeing tour, as Jim amused himself by calling it, in a back-alley bar where the drinks were cheap, not always legal, and the biggest deals in the universe that had both nothing and everything to do with Starfleet were made.
Jim had the bartender mix up two 'special' drinks, ones made with all their glowing orange beauty. The bartender tapped in something at the end, 'the special kick' Jim could remember the man calling it the first time he had found this place. Jim wasn't entirely sure what type of drug it was, but knew it didn't leave him feeling like shit later and didn't come up on scans after 8 hours. Learned that last fact the hard way, unfortunately.
Feeling playful, Jim was inclined not to inform McCoy of exactly what his drink was until he placed the drink into McCoy's hand and grinned. "To your future." Jim held up his glass, tone sarcastic but his eyes warm.
McCoy took the drink and met Jim's eyes, then raised his glass before tilting his head back and slamming it. Jim saw the glass twitch, nearly falling out of McCoy's hand, as the doctor's eyes widened. "Wow." He shook a little, exhaling slow. "Damn, Jim." Neither of them said much else for a while, while the burn of the drink seared their throats and left behind its warmth in their stomachs. This was something he liked about McCoy, about being around McCoy - the doctor didn't feel the need to constantly fill the silence with small talk and noise. They could comfortably be there, no talking needed, and enjoy it. Made it easier to forget that tomorrow it would be over.
"...so you're gonna go out and be some famous doctor, curing diseases..." Jim murmured as he stared thoughtfully at a beer that he was nursing. "All funded by Starfleet. ...Why they making you join the Academy, anyway, if they want what you're already doing?" His brows furrowed at the thought, a frown on his lips. Didn't make much sense.
"Starfleet bullshit," McCoy shrugged. "Being a doctor is one thing. Space is somethin' else entirely. Then there's language classes, comparative governments, basic tenets of the Prime Directive..." McCoy's mouth pursed, as he looked down into his beer chaser. "Hopefully once that shit is over it'll just be Alien A&P and I can just get to work." He let a few moment pass quiet, tapping his fingers against the bar. Every once in a while it looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end seemed to change his mind. Probably better that way, for both of them.
"How many languages do they force you to learn? You know any now?" Jim asked, curiosity perked. He leaned back further in his chair, looking at McCoy in the low light of the bar. Behind them, Jim could hear two men speaking in low tones about a shipment of something or other. "A&P? ...something... and protocol?" Jim hazarded a guess.
"There is some basic medical terminology in the major Federation languages," McCoy replied, laughing, "and I'm goddamn useless when it comes to off-world languages." He took another long drink of the beer, then sighed, looking at it as if realizing they were on a budget and this might be it for the night. He put the bottle on the bar, just holding it. "And no, it's Anatomy and Physiology. Something useful, you know?" He gave Jim a bit of a weary look. "Not like I don't have any experience with those from off-planet, but there ain't a hell of a lot of Klingons in North Georgia."
That made Jim laugh, grinning wide. "If you'll consider that useful," he teased, leaning on his elbow. "Wish I could help you out..." He could hear his own voice taking on a wistful tone, "I love languages. Can speak a bunch of them." He leaned over suddenly and whispered against McCoy's ear, "Means I got a talented tongue."
McCoy's hand slid to Jim's thigh, his head turning toward him. "Fuck yes, darlin', I know," he whispered, grinning like they were sharing a secret. "Maybe you could remind me some of that later, you think?"
Jim's thigh flexed under McCoy's hand, and he grinned as he turned his head a little more to brush their lips together. "I think I'll show you everything I've got." He could breathe in and taste McCoy's breath. "...Going to show me... everything those hands can do?" He slid his hand over McCoy's, grin turning to smirk. More than a good mouth, a pair of good hands was worth far more. A doctor's should have been the most skilled of all.
"All over you," McCoy spoke into Jim's mouth, that little smile on his face, flushed with probably more than the alcohol. "Everywhere," he added softly, his eyes dancing around Jim's face, his eyes, his mouth, his chest. "You got any idea how good you look?" He immediately laughed again, touching Jim's face with one hand quick before dropping it with a growl. "...Yeah, you know. You know how fuckin' sexy you are, don't ya?"
"Oh, I know. I know..." He reached out to squeeze McCoy's thigh, "Question is... do you? Fuck, all down ol' Southern charm and twang..." Jim breathed out against his lips, biting down on the lower one. McCoy made a little noise back, exhaling.
McCoy's hand covered Jim, pressing into his own leg. "Fuck, kid... what are you doing to me?" he murmured, his eyes locked on Jim's like they were the only two people in the bar.
Jim didn't answer with words. He kissed McCoy slow, almost tender except for the hunger in it. The alcohol took away the knowledge that he couldn't keep this (didn't want to, didn't want to, he was on his own) because tomorrow it would shatter like the fragile glass it was, and left him instead with a hunger that stroked his ego and desires. And fuck if McCoy wasn't kissing him back, just as needy, pulling back only when they needed to take a breath.
It was like being drunk. Pressing their foreheads together to steady himself, Jim whispered, "Let's get out of here."
McCoy nodded, dropping his head to nuzzle a little after he was done talking. "C'mon then," he growled in a low voice. He stood and pulled Jim up with him, one hand on Jim's hip as they walked through the dark establishment and out the front door. Once outside McCoy pulled Jim close to him again, another long, slow kiss before moving onto the cycle.
McCoy got the somewhat uncomfortable experience of getting driven around by a not-so-slightly drunk man to find a cheap hotel, but despite their inebriation, they managed to book the room and get into it without killing themselves. Jim didn't waste any time, and as soon as the door shut he pressed McCoy up against it. Jim eased his lips over McCoy's, his hand going to the back of the doctor's neck and squeezing the thick muscle of it. His mind spun, just a little, and something in the pit of his stomach almost giddily wondered what the doctor had in mind.
The first thing seemed to be removing Jim's shirt, the thin cotton tee quickly pulled over Jim's head as McCoy's mouth moved from one side of his neck to the other, tasting and licking at the roughened skin. The doctor's hands were soon on his ass, pulling their groins together so Jim could feel that gorgeous thick cock through just a few layers of denim, leaving no doubt how aroused McCoy was. Those skilled hands moved to the front, and began pulling at the snaps of Jim's jeans. "Bed," he growled low in Jim's ears as his fingers pulled down the zipper, darting inside. "Want you in a fuckin' bed tonight."
"You'll have me, promise... all over that bed..." Jim groaned at that deep voice in his ear, rocking slowly against the doctor's hand. He was getting hard fast, and those long fingered hands were a huge encouragement. "Long as you keep talkin' just like that."
"Hell yeah," McCoy murmured into Jim's ear, "I'll tell ya anything you wanna hear." McCoy let out a groan when his fingers wrapped around Jim's cock and he bit down on his collarbone, pulling back lightly with his teeth. "You feel so good, you know that? Fucking perfect in my hands." He began pulling Jim toward the bed, stopping only when the back of his knees hit the mattress. McCoy sat down, looking up at Jim as he mouthed his bare chest.
"You've got me all night, Len..." The doctor was almost desperate with it. "Shh..." Jim tilted McCoy's head so he could slide their lips together, closing his eyes. He'd make sure McCoy had something to hold onto just long enough for some lucky cadet to catch him. But for now, just for tonight it was them, together on that double bed in a cheap motel room. Them, kissing and touching and tasting and breathing each others' scent. The rest of their clothes were quickly discarded, and soon it was them, naked bodies sliding between the thin sheets. Jim rocked against McCoy as he tasted every bit of the doctor's skin, sometimes his lips catching on the faintest five o'clock shadow on McCoy's jawline, sometimes the edge of his nose finding the rounded edge of a muscle, sometimes biting lightly to get a reaction.
He found himself buried between those strong legs, nosing at the heavy sac up to the base of his cock, mouthing there without giving enough friction. Jim had every concept in his head of making McCoy beg for it until the need to fuck him went down to the doctor's very bones. McCoy was spreading his legs as wide as he could, lifting his hips into Jim's face yet still, was denied real satisfaction. "Goddammit Jim," he groaned, his fingers threading through Jim's hair, trying to guide Jim's head onto his aching cock.
"You know, something tells me you want something more," Jim's voice was all liquid tease, his eyes playful as he gave a lick up the length of McCoy's cock. "Can't imagine what it could be since you're not telling me..."
At that, McCoy's fingers tightened in Jim's hair, lifting his head slightly as he grasped at his own cock. "How 'bout I show you?" he told Jim, giving his shaft a quick pump before brushing it across Jim's lips, parting them slightly with his cockhead. "You like that?"
The heat of Jim's tongue lapped once at the tip of the head as it got within distance, Jim giving a positive, pleased sound in response to McCoy's question. It was incredibly erotic, staring up at the doctor's face and not looking away as his head was used, and McCoy was looking back at him with something between affection and adoration like he couldn't believe he was here with Jim. Like he didn't deserve this amazing creature between his legs.
And as he pushed his cock slowly into Jim's mouth, McCoy shuddered and flushed, and Jim could feel the rumble of his satisfaction. Jim shifted up enough to have his elbows bracing his upper torso up, and he took it in as far as he could until his nose brushed dark curled hair. He gave a swallow, careful of the sensation, then gave the smallest bob of his head. It was letting McCoy control it, if the doctor took the opportunity. Then it was just the push and pull of sex, the heavy scent in his nose and mouth, the tiny half-heard curses in his ears that kept Jim going, never giving in fully while letting McCoy build himself up. Jim wanted McCoy to last, wanted to wake the doctor up in a few hours and do it all again. It was the easiest way for two people to talk without ever saying a single word, touches of the hands that both spoke the truth and lied in language spoken with the fingers. Of all the languages Jim could speak, it was the one he spoke the most naturally, born to do it.
Jim was quickly finding that when it came to McCoy, it was the language the both of them spoke where they could actually understand each other.
It was hard to tell if McCoy was holding back or not. Judging from the sounds he was making, the way his fingers were pressing deep into Jim's scalp it seemed as if he was going for broke, then all of a sudden he'd pull back, groaning and throwing his head back, only to resume the upward thrusts a moment later, fucking Jim's mouth slow and deep. After a while he looked down at Jim, eyes wide and locked on Jim's face, breathing hard. "Not gonna be able to stop soon, you keep that up."
Well, he couldn't let that happen. Jim licked his lips as he pulled his head back, lips parted. "...You got two options," a little smirk, pleased, as he recalled his words from earlier. "Can get you off right now, let you come in my throat and lick you clean... or you'll gonna have to show me where that lube is so I can get fucked nice and deep."
McCoy shivered visibly with those words, the grin on his face as wide as Jim had ever seen. "How 'bout this," he drawled, sitting up on his elbows, looking down his stomach at Jim settled between his legs. "How 'bout you keep that up, with that damned mouth of yours, and then I'll show you where the lube is so you can fuck me nice and deep."
A quick breath in from Jim would have told McCoy everything. His lips spread into a huge grin and he leaned forward to press their lips together. "I'll make you feel so good." Just a quiet promise, feeling himself throb between his thighs. "Show me where the lube is now, and I'll make sure you're ready to beg for it."
"I got it." McCoy slid out from under Jim long enough to grab a little tube of ointment from his medical kit and put it in Jim's hand, reaching up to cup Jim's cheek with the other hand. McCoy was looking at him, darkened eyes searing into him, asking a hundred questions without saying a word. He brought their lips together for another heated, wet kiss before he leaned back on the bed, scooting back up on the mattress to give Jim room.
Jim let out a breath, wondering if McCoy had found the answers he was looking for. He opened up the lube but didn't immediately put it on his fingers. Instead, he got comfortable again and took McCoy back into his mouth, actions less deliberate and more to establish what had been happening before the lube was needed. It wasn't until he felt McCoy getting back into it with tiny motions of his hips, eyes closing, that Jim squeezed some of the lube out and rubbed the tip of his index finger against tight flesh to encourage it to relax. Something told him to take it slow with McCoy, nice and easy, that it had probably been a while for the other man since anyone had taken him. One finger became two, stretching him with a deliberate slowness, listening as McCoy grunted and cursed with each twist of his hand, distracting the doctor with his mouth.
But before long, McCoy was there again, groaning and panting and grabbing at Jim's head and shoulders. "...Jim, can't stop-" and he shook, his body clenching around Jim's fingers. Jim got all the good luck in the world to watch every expression on the doctor's face as he came. When it was over, McCoy sprawled on the mattress, sated and breathing heavily. The hand in Jim's hair continued to play with the strands as McCoy laid there, eyes still closed. Jim knew it'd be a little while for the doctor, so he took enough time to get a towel from the bathroom and wipe his hand clean before laying back down. McCoy would stay loose and lubed at least, but Jim could barely wait. He slid a hand down between his legs and squeezed himself, sighing against McCoy where he laid. It'd feel so good to slide into him; he was already betting just from what he could feel that McCoy would be tight.
They turned toward each other and kissed again. McCoy was moving slow and lazy against Jim, looking content as he rubbed his legs against Jim's. His hand slid to Jim's cock, joining Jim's fingers to stroke him. He was watching Jim again, that look in his eyes asking Jim for more. Jim just smirked, a little. "Soon." He wanted McCoy to recover, at least a little, before he took the doctor. His head fell back, rolling his hips into their interlaced fingers.
McCoy seemed to be coming back to life, his mouth finding Jim's neck again as he gripped Jim's cock. He was licking at the thin skin at the throat, tasting the skin like it was dinner, biting lightly and pulling back with his teeth until Jim groaned aloud. "You taste so good, you know that?" McCoy murmured, licking at the slightly bitten skin. He pressed his flaccid cock against Jim's hip and groaned. "Damn, you got me acting like a kid here."
"Good, cuz you're not an old man yet," Jim teased, head tilted back so McCoy's teeth could do what they wanted. He was going to have bruises, that was for sure, because most of those bites were nothing gentle. He turned his hand so he could rub his thumb against McCoy's wrist, groaning quietly.
"Felt old. You changed that." McCoy was speaking into Jim's skin, so softly it was hard to hear his words clearly. He was rubbing against Jim's hip, his breath catching as he spoke. "Want you so much."
Changed that. It was a weird statement, striking closer to home than McCoy probably realized. Jim let out a breath and he shifted, sliding one of his hands under the doctor's thigh so he could pick up his leg and hook it over his elbow to keep it up. He turned McCoy over and moved up behind him so he could bite gently on the back of the other man's neck. Jim reached down, squeezing himself again to take the edge off, before nudging himself against McCoy's entrance. "Just relax for me..." A quiet murmur before he bit down again, slowly pressing in. He had been right. McCoy was tight, enough to make him groan hard against skin that still smelled of Georgia sun.
"...fuck," McCoy groaned, leaning back against Jim. His hands gripped the sheets tight, clawing as Jim filled him, sliding in completely until his balls pressed against firm muscle. The muscles in McCoy's back quivered when Jim touched him and he pressed his head into the pillow. Jim felt himself shaking as he stroked McCoy's chest, brushed over his abdomen, and curled his fingers around still flaccid flesh and gave a little stroke.
"Come on, just relax..." McCoy's body had him like a vice, almost painful, but Jim distracted both of them with small touches, tasting each inch of skin he could get at along the doctor's shoulder, neck, and ear. "Just me, just Jim..." The words came out without much thought behind them, used more for the tone than the meaning of the words themselves. Jim's voice was pitched low, quiet, and had a tone almost like desperation. He wanted to move, but shit. Jim wanted, needed McCoy to enjoy this. If his partner didn't, he didn't.
Then McCoy pushed back against Jim, his hips shifting, encouraging that small movement. One of his hands slipped down to Jim's hip and he grasped at the warm skin. "Do it." It was another quiet voice, asking, imploring. Wanting to feel all of it, willing his body to relax. Jim didn't need any other encouragement. He rocked his hips once, getting a feel for the position. He slid his hand up higher, pulling McCoy's knee upward just that bit more for a better angle, and gave another shallow thrust. He moved in short strokes, urging McCoy's body to loosen up. Jim buried his face at the back of McCoy's neck as he fucked the doctor slow.
"Touch yourself," Jim murmured, wishing he could see McCoy doing it. Instead, he listened for the quiet hitch of breath that told him the doctor had done just that, heard as each breath became more erratic instead of matching his thrusting. Soon he could feel the movement, small but strong tugs that rocked McCoy's body against Jim's rhythmic motions. He imagined McCoy's eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly. Long fingers would be curled around his thick cock, his thumb flicking over the head, probably still sensitive from his first orgasm. The images alone made Jim moan quietly, speeding up his thrusts into the body against his. His hand tightened where it was tucked under McCoy's thigh, turning his head enough to nip hard enough to leave behind a bruise then sucking on the skin to make it stick. A small visual reminder to match the bite-bruise on McCoy's shoulder.
There was a hiss at the bite, McCoy growling just a little as Jim's teeth left their mark. He was moving under Jim, unable to keep still, grinding into his hand and back against Jim's slow thrusts. Their movements were fluid, more graceful than fucking should have been, and didn't stop even as McCoy lifted himself up on one elbow and turned his head toward Jim, looking for his mouth. Jim tilted his head to catch McCoy's lips, breathing hard through his nose as he kissed the doctor back as if hungry for it. He knew he was getting close, could feel himself drawing up and threatening to end it. He tugged on McCoy's lower lip before setting his forehead against the other man's temple, panting as his motions became more erratic.
"Fuck, Jim..." McCoy was groaning as the kiss ended, holding himself up by his elbows as his body was driven forward by deeper thrusts. He reached for one of Jim's hands and grabbed it tight, bruising force as he tightened his fingers around Jim's. The positioning was awkward and Jim groaned as pain mixed together with pleasure. He pressed his face against McCoy's shoulder as he finally came, gasping wetly against the hot skin and staining it with his breath, pressing himself deep into McCoy until the world ended and began in the same place.
Jim came back down, eyes staying closed as he just breathed, holding onto McCoy in every way that he could. Their fingers laced together as McCoy stirred, still laying contentedly under Jim. He made a quiet sound before finally speaking, his face half-pressed into his pillow. "...Was amazing."
That brought a small smile to Jim's face. "Mmm mmm..." He just let himself drift for a little bit, nails scratching lightly against McCoy's stomach before a thought, a real one, floated to the surface. "...You come?" Jim muttered.
McCoy shifted at the touch, chuckling. "Stop that," he laughed some more, then shook his head. "Nah, too wrung out from before." A few seconds passed before he grinned, cracking an eye open. "How 'bout you?"
"Ya think?" Jim gave a quiet, tired laugh, but kept up the motions of his fingers. He could feel the minute flexing of muscles there... oh ho? Jim grinned. Was McCoy ticklish? Apparently so, from the way he was arching, backing away from the touch.
One of McCoy's hands reached for Jim's, trying to stop him. "Cut it out, Jim," he laughed, rolling onto his side.
Jim just gave McCoy a sly yet somehow sheepish grin, "What, I wasn't doing anything?" It occurred to him, laying there laughing with McCoy, still reeking and covered in sex, that he couldn't remember the last time... or... any time... he had felt so comfortable with someone. Like he had known McCoy far long than a few days. How was the doc getting under his skin? McCoy seemed comfortable enough, tucking Jim under his arm and pulling him close, amazing how they fit together so well.
And not just physically. They both liked the quiet - there was no need to make small talk. The silence was friendly rather than worrisome, and when it was broken, it was by McCoy who took a deep breath and slapped Jim's hip. "We should shower."
"No." Jim's smirk came through in his voice. "Comfortable." He stretched out, but did let McCoy get up if he so wanted.
"Brat." McCoy nosed at his throat. "Been almost two days and a thousand miles since I had a shower, and I'm takin' one before I fall asleep here." He pulled back, stretching his arms over his head. "You sure?" he asked, his face half-hidden in the dark as he took a few steps toward the bathroom.
"Doctor Cock Tease," Jim grumbled without any anger, smiling just a little as he got up, stretching out some kinks from his body before he followed McCoy into the bathroom. His mind was already conjuring up plans to make sure that McCoy was fully taken care of.
It didn't take long for the bathroom to get warm and steamy while McCoy pulled Jim into the small shower with him. McCoy twisted, popping his back with a groan as the hot water hit him. "Damn, that's what I needed." Jim smirked as he watched McCoy act in the hot water like a cat in the sun, stretching out to his fullest and enjoying it. He leaned back against the wall of the shower, watching in his amusement and waiting for the doctor to give up the water. "I know you like that bike of yours," McCoy grumbled, pulling Jim close to him, and under the spray of the water, "but my back is killing me. Don't know how you travel like that all the time."
"Probably 'cause I'm used to it," Jim reminded him, letting the doctor pull him close. "After years, I don't even notice or have to stop that often." He bent his head so he could mouth against McCoy's jawline, smirking. "...Already got a five o'clock shadow there, doc."
McCoy laughed. "Yeah, that happens sometimes," he scratched at his face, "and I'm glad you're used to it. Me, I got this ache in my bones, from just three days on the cycle with you." He picked up the soap, turned Jim around so he was facing the opposite way, and began washing Jim's back. "Don't know how long its gonna take to get rid of."
"Wait," Jim said as if he was shocked, "you mean I didn't manage to rattle those old bones of yours enough to shake out all that ache?" He couldn't help the teasing, it just came naturally. The sarcasm flowed off his tongue easier than gentle words when he was even the slightest bit unsure of himself.
"Not yet you haven't," McCoy retorted, kissing the back of his neck. "Maybe another round later, though, that might do it." He lathered up Jim's hair and began rubbing at the scalp. "You know, Jim, doesn't have to end yet."
The statement made Jim tense up, and he tilted his head so he could see McCoy's face from the corner of his eye. "...What?" Tone quiet under the sound of the shower.
"This, you and me." McCoy turned Jim back around so they were facing each other. He held his head back into the stream of water, gently washing the soap out, not quite looking into Jim's eyes as he spoke. "San Francisco's a big place. Lots to do here." His eyes darted around Jim's face before finally looking him in the eye. "You don't have to leave yet."
The words tightened like a noose around Jim's heart. He met McCoy's dark eyes, cursed silently how they always seemed to be staring right into the depths of him specially when the doctor was wearing that one particular look. The shower seemed to fall silent around them, though Jim could still feel the beat of the water against his arms and shoulders. McCoy treated him like something special, like he was worth something, but at the same time treated him like a normal human being.
Jim swallowed to work up some wetness in his throat to speak. "Dunno," the first word was weak, quiet, but Jim forced the rest of the sentence to come out stronger, "have to see if there's something in this city that'll keep me here."
McCoy nodded his head. "Right." His lips curled into a little smile. "Still, something to think 'bout." Somehow the man managed to look sad and hopeful at the same time. His fingers were combing through Jim's wet hair now, tugging it back so they were looking at each other. "Just- think about it," he murmured before leaning in for a kiss, the spray of the water hitting both of them. Jim let the kiss happen, even encouraged it by bringing his hands up to cup McCoy's cheeks.
Despite his attempts to not think about McCoy's suggestion at all, it stayed worrying at the back of his mind.
"Come on, Mr. Old Bones.. turn around and I'll get your back," Jim finally said, teasing because it was easier than continuing that line of conversation.
McCoy pressed against Jim, leaning him against the cool tile. "Damn, you don't gotta call me old, Jim," he muttered, nuzzling into his hair.
Jim was silent for a second, then he grinned. "Okay then, Bones it is," he said instead, laughing as he nudged McCoy off him and urged him to turn around, giving a squeeze to both of his shoulders and rubbing his palms into the muscle to make up for his teasing.
"Don't call me that, either," McCoy gruffed, though the look in his eyes was fond. He lifted his arms, crossing them and leaned against the tile, giving Jim even more skin to work on. "Fuck, that feels good." Arching his back like a cat, he groaned under Jim's fingers. Jim just smiled as he got to work, ignoring the soap for now to instead start massaging the thick muscle at the base of the neck, the shoulders, and down the back.
Only when Jim got to tease McCoy about the sounds he was making Bones you sound like an amorous cat and received a grumpy Stop calling me that, brat in return did Jim grab for the soap and actually wash the dust and sex off of McCoy. The gentle touches didn't do much to stop those sounds coming out of McCoy, who shuddered and turned, pulling Jim back into his arms for a deep kiss. "I think we're both clean enough, don't you?" he asked, his voice rough from need. He was hard again, nudging at Jim's hip with his erection.
"...Well, a part of you doesn't seem to think so," Jim smirked as he reached down and curved his fingers around McCoy's cock. "This part of you seems to want a whole lot more."
Another grunt at the touch to McCoy's cock. "Just a little more, Jim," he murmured, nuzzling his neck. "That alright?"
"More than alright," Jim murmured back, stroking slowly.
Everything was far from alright.
Jim caught only about an hour of sleep before he found himself wide, wide awake. His eyes stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, mind racing with thoughts. The man curled up beside him was dead to the world, tucked up against Jim like twins in the womb. One hand was loose over his chest, and Jim could feel the breath against his neck.
He wondered how that subtle, constant noise hadn't kept him awake. Now it was his own spinning thoughts that did the job instead.
Two people in one day had asked him to stay somewhere, stay in one place. Give up the lifestyle he had known for years. The lifestyle he had built up himself from nothing at all. Every part of him rebelled against the idea of that, brought to mind images of prisons and writing on the wall. Yet McCoy--no, his mind decided to humor him, Bones now, because it frustrated the doctor--had been the one to offer his hand...
Jim sighed and slowly, careful not to wake Bones, shifted out from beside him. Once on the edge of the bed, he froze and looked back to see if the other man would wake. But he didn't wake. Too tired from the day's journey and all they'd done together that night - Bones slept on, not knowing what was happening just a foot away. Instead he rolled over, wrapped his arms around his pillow, and dreamt on.
Good. Sleep well, Bones. Jim reached out, brushing his fingers just once over the dark tousled hair still slightly damp from their long shower. In the morning, Bones would get himself sorted out with Pike, would get into the Academy... and live a good life. Get money to see that little girl of his, save lives. Jim liked the idea of it, and was glad he could make it happen. Least he could fix one person's life.
He stood up silently in the dark room and started to pull on his dirty clothing. He knew he needed to get them washed, needed some new things. Thanks to being with another person on his cycle for the last few days, Jim wasn't sure about his resources in the areas of supplies, food, and credits. It didn't matter, he had made due with nothing in the past when it was necessary, and he could do it now. Jim had ways of making money when he needed it.
Right now, he knew more than anything he couldn't stay here. Couldn't stay where he was so close to this man who kept making him question things, question his life, question himself.
It doesn't matter, you idiot. A few years, and what? He'll be off on some ship, some distant planet, and--
Stop it, what the hell am I thinking!? We're not talking years, we're not even talking a week. He just needs someone to take the edge of the pain of that divorce off and get laid, and I gave that to him. He'll get clingy, then find someone and go off with them. That's how it's supposed to work. Needs someone who can be there for him.
I'm not that kind of person. But he had been, once. Circumstance and fate had driven every bit of that out of him.
Jim packed up the last of his things, and looked across the room at the doctor asleep in the bed. He couldn't tell the smile on his face was a sad one instead of a sarcastic one, as he stood there in the dark and watched Bones sleeping peacefully. It would be easier for them both if he left before Bones woke up. Definitely easier for them both, Jim told himself. I'm a fucking hypocrite.
He left silently, only the soft click of the door to mark his departure.