FIC: nc-17, The Ribbon, 2/2
Title: The Ribbon 2/2
Rating: nc-17 - ho, ho, ho!
Character/Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Wordcount: approx 3,800 words complete
Summary: Christmas Day, and Jim is wondering what Bones has got him for Christmas. This part only works if you’ve read part one first
Warnings: schmoop
Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.
Author’s notes: thanks again to the wonderful awarrington for making me legible - For space_wrapped
Intriguing snippet: ”What you looking for, Bonesy, my present?” Even though the only thing Jim could possibly want or need in his life was right there in front of him he realised with a sigh. Well, maybe a slightly less petulant version than this.
The Ribbon - part 2
~Later Christmas Morning~
Jim didn’t dare move. It was the kind of back pain where, he knew from bitter experience, the slightest twist one way or the other could end up with him immobile. It had last happened a few months ago when he’d insisted on helping out Scotty with a problem which involved sliding into a Jeffries tube. They’d had to remove a section to get him out and he’d ended up shuffling around for a couple of days. So now, he needed to take stock - before it got worse.
Yeah, it was probably safe to crack open an eye... you couldn’t hurt your back moving an eyelid, could you?
He’d fallen asleep in sickbay with his ass on one chair, feet up on another, McCoy’s makeshift bed alongside his. Bones had gone, and Jim had no idea what time it was - certainly some time into a skeleton Alpha shift. Looking at the chrono would involve standing closer to it; great, so now he had shit eyesight and a shitty back. And the threat of a hangover. Jesus, he was only thirty but, right now, he felt a lot older. The perils of much hand to hand combat over the years, and over enthusiastic cowboy sex. He’d have to remind that lazy bastard that it might be his turn to top for a change ‘stead of leaving him to do all the work.
Someone had tossed a blanket over him and it now lay across Jim’s legs in a tangle. And he needed to pee. Which would involve moving.
“Captain?”
“Oh, hi, Christine, you couldn’t just help me up, could you?”
Blue eyes and perfect, blonde hair loomed into his field of vision.
“Are you injured? Should I fetch Dr McCoy?” her voice, measured, caring, professional.
“No, I’m fine. I think. Just give me a pull up, would you?” He felt Chapel’s cool hands encircle his wrists. “What time is it?”
“10:07, Sir.”
“Where is Bones?” Jim said. He lowered his legs to the floor in slow motion. So far, so good. Then a twang when he dropped his feet from the supporting chair and they settled on the floor. “Wait, wait - just let me-”
Damn, add a morning boner to the stiff back. Thank God he had the blanket but, as he’d long suspected, Chapel had mind-reading abilities. She let go of his wrists and stepped away with an expression that said something like: I’ve-seen-more-of those-than-you’ve-had-meatloaf, Captain, all without twitching any facial muscles other than those needed to arch an eyebrow.
“Dr McCoy is taking a shower, Sir.” She nodded towards the far side of sickbay.
Memories of the night before flooded back. It was no wonder he’d woken up with a hard-on. Now, the thought of McCoy in the shower and thinking about why he needed that shower so badly. Shit - he’d just have to stay put with the blanket on his lap until he could will the problem away. It didn’t matter, he was off duty, and sickbay felt like a second home sometimes.
Christine moved to his left and busied herself elsewhere, to reveal Wentworth prone on the bio-bed, regen machines placed either side of his face, and the length of his torso, the hypodermis raw, gleaming yet protected by the sterile field around him.
“Wentworth, you’re awake!” Jim jumped to his feet without thinking. He gasped when a white hot bolt of pain locked his back. He cursed, the blanket bunched in his right hand, to cover his embarrassment. Hell, at least he was upright. In more ways than one. He took a deep breath and risked a counter stretch against stiff muscles, “Merry Christmas, Wentworth,” he managed to say, ashamed he’d even think this was something you could call pain.
“Your back alright, Sir?” Wentworth’s voice was a little croaky, his throat ripped by smoke inhalation during the accident.
Jim shook his head, couldn’t believe this kid, asking after him when he was in that state. He shuffled the two steps to the bed,
“Hey, don’t mind me; I’m just getting old, Ensign.” He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, wondering what he looked like needing a shave and stinking of booze and sleep-breath. “I hope McCoy’s snoring didn’t keep you up last night.”
Wentworth couldn’t move his head, couldn’t turn to look at Kirk. “I woke up a couple of times, Sir, saw you there-” His eyes flickered towards Jim, red-rimmed and traumatized by his experience.
Jim cleared his throat. “Well, I need to go and take a shower too; we’ll bring you some Christmas food down later, okay?”
“Nil by mouth, Jim.” It was McCoy, dressed in scrubs, towelling his hair, forehead furrowed as he contemplated Jim who somehow resisted the urge to grab his broad shoulders and kiss him there in front of everyone. Sure sickbay was pretty quiet but nurses were in and out, and there was Wentworth, of course. “And why are you standing like you got a stick up your ass?” McCoy twisted the towel and draped it round his neck.
“I did something to my back.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Did you now? I’ve got some ointment in my office.”
Jim looked at McCoy’s long fingers gripping the towel, imagined them touching his back, his ass-
“I’ll be with you in a second, Bones, just need to sort Wentworth out!” And take a pee.
“So you’re a nurse now?”
Jim mentally filed that possible scenario for another time.
“No,” he grinned, “I thought I’d help him choose a movie.” Sure the computer could do that but it wouldn’t have had that nice captainly touch, would it?
McCoy’s huffed and spun on his heel to head for the office, and Jim really didn’t look at his ass as he walked away.
Well, this was a surprise, Jim thought in the bathroom. He didn’t know you used your back muscles to piss. He freshened up with some wipes, swilled his mouth out with water and grinned then winced in the mirror at his reflection.
“You lucky fucking bastard, Jim Kirk,” he said and waddled across sickbay, back to Wentworth’s side where he passed ten minutes or so going through some movie options. They steered clear of Christmas movies, even rejecting A Muppet Christmas Carol because laughing wouldn’t have been a good idea, pain relief or no pain relief.
“He wanted wildlife documentaries,” Jim said, leaning on the office door, ”No danger of family gatherings and real fires on the Serengeti…” His eyes raked up and down McCoy’s rangy form. “Unless you’re a lion, that is.” McCoy had his back to him, half bent over while he rummaged through a drawer, his perfect ass cheeks taunting Little Jim through the light fabric of his scrubs. God, the amount of times he’d tugged those down in one movement and blown him on that very desk. ”And I promised him we’d take our plates down at lunch, you know, if that’s okay with you.” Damn, something was up. ”What you looking for, Bonesy, my present?” Even though the only thing Jim could possibly want or need in his life was right there in front of him he realised with a sigh. Well, maybe a slightly less petulant version than this. McCoy ignored him. “Do I even get a present?” No answer.
Shit. There was a definite coolness. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the present? Or lack of one. Like he gave a damn; Jim knew Bones would at some point during the day, probably one minute before midnight, give him bourbon (which was really for both of them) the ‘good stuff not this replicated shit’, just like he did every Christmas and birthday. An image of McCoy’s gasping, sweat-sheened face beneath him while Jim bounced on his lovely cock flashed in his mind’s eye, which made his cock and back fire simultaneously. Damn. He really needed to kiss him, so he caught McCoy’s arm, the first time they’d touched since he’d woken up, since they’d fallen asleep, holding hands in their matching chairs, ‘Like a pair of winded old bastards in a retirement home,’ McCoy had mumbled affectionately.
While McCoy didn’t shake him off, he also didn’t in any way acknowledge Jim’s touch. “Bones?” he said, worry working into the pit of his stomach.
McCoy shot him an impenetrable look, dropped his eyebrows till they almost fell over his eyes and then looked away. He fiddled with the tricorder. Undeterred, Jim angled across him, winced, and hit the door control. It glided shut behind them. He didn’t have long; had to check on Spock even though he’d promised he’d stay off the bridge all day - plus there was the matter of the much needed shower. But his cock told him, he needed that kiss more - McCoy wasn’t officially on duty either so he could drop the I’m working, Jim act.
“So how do you want me?” he tried, with his best come-hither voice which, he realised probably sounded more desperate than seductive but he also knew tended to melt McCoy’s defences better than three fingers of Kentucky’s finest. The combined image of the miniature Christmas tree on the shelf above the desk and McCoy immovable face suddenly reminded him of the run-up to yuletide in Iowa, with Winona unlocking his eight-year old fingers from her skirt as she got into her car to-
Okay, this wasn’t like Bones, but something must have pissed him off and Jim knew from experience that when McCoy brooded, he needed to be left well alone. “I know you like me bent over the desk,” he said, “but I can see you’re mad with m… about… something. You’re wearing your grade A scowl there, the one reserved for visiting ambassadors - guess you’ll tell me in good time, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay. Dropping it. Fine.
“It’s here,” Jim said, pointing to the small of his back. McCoy cocked his head and nodded at the desk, “fucking hurts.” Jim bent over with caution and sank onto his elbows, his ass in the air. He pulled his shirts up as best he could manage without hissing in pain and tried to push McCoy’s uncharacteristic silence out of his head, tensing up even as the tricorder scanned his back. McCoy set it down on the desk.
Jim watched over his shoulder, while McCoy opened a pot of ointment, scooped a dollop with two fingers and rubbed it into his hands to warm it, which made him think of lube and woke up Little Jim all over again. He might be hobbling like an old guy but he hadn’t been kidding the night before when he said his dick was eighteen. It didn’t help having McCoy all purposeful and focused and ignoring him. While Jim always respected personal boundaries, over the past seven years this little fuck game had developed where he pushed, McCoy resisted and so on, to and fro, and it made the capitulation so fucking sweet and hot. Shit, he’d let out a moan, he was pretty sure. But if he had, McCoy didn’t respond in any way.
McCoy’s strong hands on the small of his back and the warmth from the unguent soon relaxed him a little. McCoy smoothed even circles along Jim’s lumbar region. Jim could imagine him reciting the muscle names as he stroked him, he knew that McCoy used to do that to stop himself coming sometimes, long strings of medical words. He’d never shared what he often did, which was to recite poetry, steering clear of anything too horny. Generally Chaucer, because it ‘sounded’ good and he didn’t get lost in the meaning of the words. He might need to do some of that in a minute, the shove against the desk as McCoy worked his back, awakening some muscle memory of times they’d fucked on here.
A pause while McCoy got more ointment - his thumbs worked half circles up from his spine and out starting at the erector spinae-
“Fuck, ow… yeah, there.”
Normally Bones would call him an infant at this point, but nothing. This silence was more than disconcerting, it was beginning to make him mad; it was like last night hadn’t happened. Maybe the vid hadn’t been a good idea. They’d been feeling good before that, wrapped in afterglow, a bit of whiskey, his cock felt like it might have had its fill for once. And Bones looked so cute in the hat, toasting to Wentworth. He’d thought the vid would bring Joanna closer, instead it looked like it had just reminded Bones how far away she was. Maybe something else was bothering him…
McCoy’s thumbs pushed their way under Jim’s shirts and stayed a moment. What? Jim looked over his shoulder at him. That beautiful, sombre face, definitely more lines than when they’d first met. Jim thought he looked a little drawn but then again, the only time McCoy looked peaceful was when he’d just come. Not to mention - goofy.
“Bones?”
“Uh-huh?”
He didn’t step away from Jim, just put the lid back on the ointment, pulled Jim’s shirts down and then smiled, this fucking heart-breaking, wide smile that sank into Jim’s limbs better than any ointment could have done, warming him, making his cock jump like there was some invisible thread from those lips to his groin - and just putting that into a sentence in his head made it worse. He edged around, taking care with his back, to face McCoy, turning in the space between McCoy’s thighs, he could smell the coffee on his breath. Jim settled with his ass pressed to the edge of the desk.
“What you smiling at?” McCoy glanced down at Jim’s fly, but still refused to speak. “Ship’s cat got yer tongue, Bones?”
Bones parted his lips ever so slightly, his arms across his chest, just damn looking at Jim. What the-?
Jim took McCoy’s hands and unravelled his arms so he could press against him, he nudged his cock to McCoy’s thigh, while his lovesick mouth found McCoy’s bottom lip and pulled gently. Toothpaste clean. McCoy didn’t kiss back, yet he didn’t resist. His hands rested on Jim’s hips, neither tugging nor pushing away. Jim wasn’t quite sure what McCoy wanted but he was damn clear on what he needed right now, to plunder that mouth. He doubted he’d be up to sex, his back hurt too damn much but, dear God, he needed this right now. McCoy still didn’t resist or reciprocate which Jim found hot as hell.
With a gentleness that surprised him considering how his poor cock was bent over and crushed in his jeans, and demanding a little more urgency, Jim took his tongue on a leisurely route along McCoy’s lower lip, from one corner to another, tilting his head to get the right angle, feeling McCoy’s long, even breaths whisper against him as he moved, then he licked across his top lip, dipped in to explore the bump of McCoy’s teeth with the tip of his tongue. He pushed his constricted cock a little harder against him, “Bones,” he murmured into McCoy’s clean shaven face, taking a moment to collect himself. “Kiss me?”
McCoy responded by parting his lips more, letting out a stuttered breath and pulling Jim in close with his hand to the back of his neck. Yes. There it was - the wall of grouch crumbling. Jim swore he could feel his heart bouncing against his ribcage. He tugged the drawstring at McCoy’s hips, could feel that he was hard too now and with practiced hands, shoved down his pants at the same time as thrusting his tongue deep into McCoy-
“What the fuck?” Jim pulled back and scooped his finger into his mouth, taking out the metallic object Bones had transferred during their kiss, staring at Bones, aware that he must have looked pretty dumb with his slack-jaw. He didn’t need to look down to know what it was he was holding. “Jesus, Bones, Jesus!” He saw a muscle tense on McCoy’s face, twitching down the side of his eye, the flicker of worry across his eyes.
“I-” Bones mumbled.
Jim closed his eyes, took a breath and gasped against McCoy’s mouth, unsure what to say, suddenly conscious he hadn’t showered since the night before and must be stinking out McCoy’s office. He felt McCoy shift against him.
“It was a dumb idea, sorry, I should have-” McCoy whispered, his face crumpled and he looked away at a point on the shelf over Jim’s right shoulder.
Oh, God. Want rippled through Jim, he clamped his lips hard against his lover, suddenly overwhelmed, his arms wrapped around strong shoulders, legs curling round his hips, bringing him nearer despite the fact he doubted an atom covered in lube could have slid in what space existed between them. His fist tight around his present, he could hear his own needy little moans, McCoy’s whispered words.
“I thought you were pissed at me,” Jim managed to fit in between gulped breaths, kissing McCoy’s face like his life depended on it. Love-stoned and light-headed, he slid his free hand down the front of McCoy’s pants, grasped his cock roughly, pulling him close again so their erections touched base to tip.
“I am, darlin’, I’m always pissed at you.” More kisses, his hand fumbled to meet Jim’s fist, to unlock his closed fingers, to pull out the ring. “So?”
“Yes, Bones, yes.”
McCoy shuddered, let out a moan of relief and manhandled Jim so he sat on the desk.
“Fuck, ouch, careful!” Jim couldn’t help laughing. He parted his legs and watched as McCoy sank to his knees. Their eyes locked and he slipped the ring onto Jim’s hand. Just staring up at him, his eyes the colour of rain-drenched autumn leaves.
“Happy Christmas, Jim.”
“Under his tonge a trewe - love he beer,” Jim quoted, his voice breaking.
“What is that, Klingon?” McCoy growled.
Can a face ‘fold its arms’? Jim found himself wondering, still amazed at how every part of Bones could express grumpiness, “No, asshole,” he said with affection, “Even you can recognise a bit of Klingon - it’s Chaucer. Middle English.”
“Ah.”
Jim ran his left hand through McCoy’s messy hair, while pulling his cock free with the other, holding it in place so Bones could take it in.
“It stops me coming, you know, when I’m close.” He waved the end of his cock at McCoy. “Plus it’s kinda romantic - bit like you getting down on your knees is.”
“Now, why on earth would you want to stop yourself from comin’?”
And if Bones was going to go all deep south on him, he’d have to do the whole of The Miller’s Tale, but he said, “My back, Bones - I don’t think I can move.“
Sinful eyes looked up at him and McCoy’s mouth fell open enough for muffled words, “Just enjoy, baby, you can give me a proper seein’ to once it’s good an’ healed.” And Jim gasped when those hot, delicious fucking lips slid home. Heat coiling in his spine.
“Bones - I’m going to last about- oh-”
McCoy replaced his lips with a thumb swirl across the tip and bad back or no bad back, Jim couldn’t help rocking forward to meet him. His breath quickening, he watched in awe when McCoy pulled away, and fisted him with long, rough strokes, his eyes on Jim’s face the whole time, his chest heaving. Jim’s hand gripped McCoy’s wrist as he came with a swallowed grunt and watched his come arch onto McCoy’s triumphant face. McCoy dipped his head to take Jim’s cock into his mouth and suck the last out of him, Jim’s fingers clenching in his hair, the gold of the ring simple, solid against the softness.
McCoy sat back on his heels and pushed Jim’s leg aside so he could get at the drawer and find some wipes.
Loose boned, Jim sighed and watched through half-closed eyes while McCoy cleaned them both up, a little awed at what had just taken place.
“You want me to-?” he finally offered.
“It’s ok - I’ll take a rain-check,” McCoy drawled. “‘fact, I’ll take a whole fuckin’ rainstorm of checks.” He got up from the floor with a grunt, “Godamn knees.” He stood between Jim’s thighs, nudging his erection across Jim’s belly. “Hey,” he said, kissing Jim’s temple, “When did we start to get old?” He pressed his forehead against him and began to pump himself while Jim stroked his arms, ran his knuckles across his face.
“We’ve still got to do that part, Bones, “Jim breathed into McCoy’s ear when he could feel him getting close. “The best is still to come between us. Thank you, Bones, thank you… fucking love you.“ And he pressed his ring finger against McCoy’s mouth and held tight as he came with a hitched gasp of, “Jim.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes, McCoy leaning on Jim, Jim stroking his back, kissing gentle little kisses.
McCoy went to the cabinet to pull out his second set of scrubs of the morning, uncharacteristically quiet.
“I really need to get down,” Jim finally said.
“Really? You look kinda cute up there.”
“I smell of come.”
“That you do.”
He held out his arm so Jim could use it as support and edge off the desk.
McCoy pressed the door release. “I could have choked. I thought you were never going to kiss me.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve probably built up a resistance all those times you’ve given me head.” Jim waggled his eyebrows. The only part he dared move. “Bones-”
“I left a couple of pills for you there.” He pointed to a pot on the shelf behind Jim. “They’re weak but they’re pretty much all you’re allowed, being such a primadonna and all. And I’ll bring up a regen blanket for you a bit later. Now, I gotta go to work.” He took Jim’s hand and kissed the palm, then the ring again. “I’ll have that back until the big day, thank you kindly.”
Jim reluctantly pulled the ring off and handed it over. McCoy opened the top drawer and popped it back into its case.
McCoy wrapped his arms around him and Jim put his chin on his shoulder. They exchanged wet, lazy kisses.
“When did you buy it, Bones? I mean - how long have you been keeping this a secret?”
McCoy pulled back and scanned Jim’s face. “In Georgia, same day you recorded the holovid with Jo-Jo.”
“Jesus, really? Guess it was written in the stars, huh?”
“Yes, Jim, the Christmas stars,” McCoy grinned with, to give him credit, only a touch of snark. “I figured after seven years of you annoying the hell out of me, it couldn’t get any worse, so we might as well.”
“Grumpy old bastard,” Jim grinned.
“Your grumpy old bastard.” McCoy gave him one last kiss. “Now go take a shower before I have to call security.”
~FIN~
A/N: thanks to ceres_libera for giving me permission to borrow her original idea for a regen blanket - thanks, bb, and Jim's back is most grateful too!
I adore feedback almost as much as these boys adore each other!
The Masterlist of all my fanfiction is here
Rating: nc-17 - ho, ho, ho!
Character/Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Wordcount: approx 3,800 words complete
Summary: Christmas Day, and Jim is wondering what Bones has got him for Christmas. This part only works if you’ve read part one first
Warnings: schmoop
Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.
Author’s notes: thanks again to the wonderful awarrington for making me legible - For space_wrapped
Intriguing snippet: ”What you looking for, Bonesy, my present?” Even though the only thing Jim could possibly want or need in his life was right there in front of him he realised with a sigh. Well, maybe a slightly less petulant version than this.
The Ribbon - part 2
~Later Christmas Morning~
Jim didn’t dare move. It was the kind of back pain where, he knew from bitter experience, the slightest twist one way or the other could end up with him immobile. It had last happened a few months ago when he’d insisted on helping out Scotty with a problem which involved sliding into a Jeffries tube. They’d had to remove a section to get him out and he’d ended up shuffling around for a couple of days. So now, he needed to take stock - before it got worse.
Yeah, it was probably safe to crack open an eye... you couldn’t hurt your back moving an eyelid, could you?
He’d fallen asleep in sickbay with his ass on one chair, feet up on another, McCoy’s makeshift bed alongside his. Bones had gone, and Jim had no idea what time it was - certainly some time into a skeleton Alpha shift. Looking at the chrono would involve standing closer to it; great, so now he had shit eyesight and a shitty back. And the threat of a hangover. Jesus, he was only thirty but, right now, he felt a lot older. The perils of much hand to hand combat over the years, and over enthusiastic cowboy sex. He’d have to remind that lazy bastard that it might be his turn to top for a change ‘stead of leaving him to do all the work.
Someone had tossed a blanket over him and it now lay across Jim’s legs in a tangle. And he needed to pee. Which would involve moving.
“Captain?”
“Oh, hi, Christine, you couldn’t just help me up, could you?”
Blue eyes and perfect, blonde hair loomed into his field of vision.
“Are you injured? Should I fetch Dr McCoy?” her voice, measured, caring, professional.
“No, I’m fine. I think. Just give me a pull up, would you?” He felt Chapel’s cool hands encircle his wrists. “What time is it?”
“10:07, Sir.”
“Where is Bones?” Jim said. He lowered his legs to the floor in slow motion. So far, so good. Then a twang when he dropped his feet from the supporting chair and they settled on the floor. “Wait, wait - just let me-”
Damn, add a morning boner to the stiff back. Thank God he had the blanket but, as he’d long suspected, Chapel had mind-reading abilities. She let go of his wrists and stepped away with an expression that said something like: I’ve-seen-more-of those-than-you’ve-had-meatloaf, Captain, all without twitching any facial muscles other than those needed to arch an eyebrow.
“Dr McCoy is taking a shower, Sir.” She nodded towards the far side of sickbay.
Memories of the night before flooded back. It was no wonder he’d woken up with a hard-on. Now, the thought of McCoy in the shower and thinking about why he needed that shower so badly. Shit - he’d just have to stay put with the blanket on his lap until he could will the problem away. It didn’t matter, he was off duty, and sickbay felt like a second home sometimes.
Christine moved to his left and busied herself elsewhere, to reveal Wentworth prone on the bio-bed, regen machines placed either side of his face, and the length of his torso, the hypodermis raw, gleaming yet protected by the sterile field around him.
“Wentworth, you’re awake!” Jim jumped to his feet without thinking. He gasped when a white hot bolt of pain locked his back. He cursed, the blanket bunched in his right hand, to cover his embarrassment. Hell, at least he was upright. In more ways than one. He took a deep breath and risked a counter stretch against stiff muscles, “Merry Christmas, Wentworth,” he managed to say, ashamed he’d even think this was something you could call pain.
“Your back alright, Sir?” Wentworth’s voice was a little croaky, his throat ripped by smoke inhalation during the accident.
Jim shook his head, couldn’t believe this kid, asking after him when he was in that state. He shuffled the two steps to the bed,
“Hey, don’t mind me; I’m just getting old, Ensign.” He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, wondering what he looked like needing a shave and stinking of booze and sleep-breath. “I hope McCoy’s snoring didn’t keep you up last night.”
Wentworth couldn’t move his head, couldn’t turn to look at Kirk. “I woke up a couple of times, Sir, saw you there-” His eyes flickered towards Jim, red-rimmed and traumatized by his experience.
Jim cleared his throat. “Well, I need to go and take a shower too; we’ll bring you some Christmas food down later, okay?”
“Nil by mouth, Jim.” It was McCoy, dressed in scrubs, towelling his hair, forehead furrowed as he contemplated Jim who somehow resisted the urge to grab his broad shoulders and kiss him there in front of everyone. Sure sickbay was pretty quiet but nurses were in and out, and there was Wentworth, of course. “And why are you standing like you got a stick up your ass?” McCoy twisted the towel and draped it round his neck.
“I did something to my back.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Did you now? I’ve got some ointment in my office.”
Jim looked at McCoy’s long fingers gripping the towel, imagined them touching his back, his ass-
“I’ll be with you in a second, Bones, just need to sort Wentworth out!” And take a pee.
“So you’re a nurse now?”
Jim mentally filed that possible scenario for another time.
“No,” he grinned, “I thought I’d help him choose a movie.” Sure the computer could do that but it wouldn’t have had that nice captainly touch, would it?
McCoy’s huffed and spun on his heel to head for the office, and Jim really didn’t look at his ass as he walked away.
Well, this was a surprise, Jim thought in the bathroom. He didn’t know you used your back muscles to piss. He freshened up with some wipes, swilled his mouth out with water and grinned then winced in the mirror at his reflection.
“You lucky fucking bastard, Jim Kirk,” he said and waddled across sickbay, back to Wentworth’s side where he passed ten minutes or so going through some movie options. They steered clear of Christmas movies, even rejecting A Muppet Christmas Carol because laughing wouldn’t have been a good idea, pain relief or no pain relief.
“He wanted wildlife documentaries,” Jim said, leaning on the office door, ”No danger of family gatherings and real fires on the Serengeti…” His eyes raked up and down McCoy’s rangy form. “Unless you’re a lion, that is.” McCoy had his back to him, half bent over while he rummaged through a drawer, his perfect ass cheeks taunting Little Jim through the light fabric of his scrubs. God, the amount of times he’d tugged those down in one movement and blown him on that very desk. ”And I promised him we’d take our plates down at lunch, you know, if that’s okay with you.” Damn, something was up. ”What you looking for, Bonesy, my present?” Even though the only thing Jim could possibly want or need in his life was right there in front of him he realised with a sigh. Well, maybe a slightly less petulant version than this. McCoy ignored him. “Do I even get a present?” No answer.
Shit. There was a definite coolness. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the present? Or lack of one. Like he gave a damn; Jim knew Bones would at some point during the day, probably one minute before midnight, give him bourbon (which was really for both of them) the ‘good stuff not this replicated shit’, just like he did every Christmas and birthday. An image of McCoy’s gasping, sweat-sheened face beneath him while Jim bounced on his lovely cock flashed in his mind’s eye, which made his cock and back fire simultaneously. Damn. He really needed to kiss him, so he caught McCoy’s arm, the first time they’d touched since he’d woken up, since they’d fallen asleep, holding hands in their matching chairs, ‘Like a pair of winded old bastards in a retirement home,’ McCoy had mumbled affectionately.
While McCoy didn’t shake him off, he also didn’t in any way acknowledge Jim’s touch. “Bones?” he said, worry working into the pit of his stomach.
McCoy shot him an impenetrable look, dropped his eyebrows till they almost fell over his eyes and then looked away. He fiddled with the tricorder. Undeterred, Jim angled across him, winced, and hit the door control. It glided shut behind them. He didn’t have long; had to check on Spock even though he’d promised he’d stay off the bridge all day - plus there was the matter of the much needed shower. But his cock told him, he needed that kiss more - McCoy wasn’t officially on duty either so he could drop the I’m working, Jim act.
“So how do you want me?” he tried, with his best come-hither voice which, he realised probably sounded more desperate than seductive but he also knew tended to melt McCoy’s defences better than three fingers of Kentucky’s finest. The combined image of the miniature Christmas tree on the shelf above the desk and McCoy immovable face suddenly reminded him of the run-up to yuletide in Iowa, with Winona unlocking his eight-year old fingers from her skirt as she got into her car to-
Okay, this wasn’t like Bones, but something must have pissed him off and Jim knew from experience that when McCoy brooded, he needed to be left well alone. “I know you like me bent over the desk,” he said, “but I can see you’re mad with m… about… something. You’re wearing your grade A scowl there, the one reserved for visiting ambassadors - guess you’ll tell me in good time, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay. Dropping it. Fine.
“It’s here,” Jim said, pointing to the small of his back. McCoy cocked his head and nodded at the desk, “fucking hurts.” Jim bent over with caution and sank onto his elbows, his ass in the air. He pulled his shirts up as best he could manage without hissing in pain and tried to push McCoy’s uncharacteristic silence out of his head, tensing up even as the tricorder scanned his back. McCoy set it down on the desk.
Jim watched over his shoulder, while McCoy opened a pot of ointment, scooped a dollop with two fingers and rubbed it into his hands to warm it, which made him think of lube and woke up Little Jim all over again. He might be hobbling like an old guy but he hadn’t been kidding the night before when he said his dick was eighteen. It didn’t help having McCoy all purposeful and focused and ignoring him. While Jim always respected personal boundaries, over the past seven years this little fuck game had developed where he pushed, McCoy resisted and so on, to and fro, and it made the capitulation so fucking sweet and hot. Shit, he’d let out a moan, he was pretty sure. But if he had, McCoy didn’t respond in any way.
McCoy’s strong hands on the small of his back and the warmth from the unguent soon relaxed him a little. McCoy smoothed even circles along Jim’s lumbar region. Jim could imagine him reciting the muscle names as he stroked him, he knew that McCoy used to do that to stop himself coming sometimes, long strings of medical words. He’d never shared what he often did, which was to recite poetry, steering clear of anything too horny. Generally Chaucer, because it ‘sounded’ good and he didn’t get lost in the meaning of the words. He might need to do some of that in a minute, the shove against the desk as McCoy worked his back, awakening some muscle memory of times they’d fucked on here.
A pause while McCoy got more ointment - his thumbs worked half circles up from his spine and out starting at the erector spinae-
“Fuck, ow… yeah, there.”
Normally Bones would call him an infant at this point, but nothing. This silence was more than disconcerting, it was beginning to make him mad; it was like last night hadn’t happened. Maybe the vid hadn’t been a good idea. They’d been feeling good before that, wrapped in afterglow, a bit of whiskey, his cock felt like it might have had its fill for once. And Bones looked so cute in the hat, toasting to Wentworth. He’d thought the vid would bring Joanna closer, instead it looked like it had just reminded Bones how far away she was. Maybe something else was bothering him…
McCoy’s thumbs pushed their way under Jim’s shirts and stayed a moment. What? Jim looked over his shoulder at him. That beautiful, sombre face, definitely more lines than when they’d first met. Jim thought he looked a little drawn but then again, the only time McCoy looked peaceful was when he’d just come. Not to mention - goofy.
“Bones?”
“Uh-huh?”
He didn’t step away from Jim, just put the lid back on the ointment, pulled Jim’s shirts down and then smiled, this fucking heart-breaking, wide smile that sank into Jim’s limbs better than any ointment could have done, warming him, making his cock jump like there was some invisible thread from those lips to his groin - and just putting that into a sentence in his head made it worse. He edged around, taking care with his back, to face McCoy, turning in the space between McCoy’s thighs, he could smell the coffee on his breath. Jim settled with his ass pressed to the edge of the desk.
“What you smiling at?” McCoy glanced down at Jim’s fly, but still refused to speak. “Ship’s cat got yer tongue, Bones?”
Bones parted his lips ever so slightly, his arms across his chest, just damn looking at Jim. What the-?
Jim took McCoy’s hands and unravelled his arms so he could press against him, he nudged his cock to McCoy’s thigh, while his lovesick mouth found McCoy’s bottom lip and pulled gently. Toothpaste clean. McCoy didn’t kiss back, yet he didn’t resist. His hands rested on Jim’s hips, neither tugging nor pushing away. Jim wasn’t quite sure what McCoy wanted but he was damn clear on what he needed right now, to plunder that mouth. He doubted he’d be up to sex, his back hurt too damn much but, dear God, he needed this right now. McCoy still didn’t resist or reciprocate which Jim found hot as hell.
With a gentleness that surprised him considering how his poor cock was bent over and crushed in his jeans, and demanding a little more urgency, Jim took his tongue on a leisurely route along McCoy’s lower lip, from one corner to another, tilting his head to get the right angle, feeling McCoy’s long, even breaths whisper against him as he moved, then he licked across his top lip, dipped in to explore the bump of McCoy’s teeth with the tip of his tongue. He pushed his constricted cock a little harder against him, “Bones,” he murmured into McCoy’s clean shaven face, taking a moment to collect himself. “Kiss me?”
McCoy responded by parting his lips more, letting out a stuttered breath and pulling Jim in close with his hand to the back of his neck. Yes. There it was - the wall of grouch crumbling. Jim swore he could feel his heart bouncing against his ribcage. He tugged the drawstring at McCoy’s hips, could feel that he was hard too now and with practiced hands, shoved down his pants at the same time as thrusting his tongue deep into McCoy-
“What the fuck?” Jim pulled back and scooped his finger into his mouth, taking out the metallic object Bones had transferred during their kiss, staring at Bones, aware that he must have looked pretty dumb with his slack-jaw. He didn’t need to look down to know what it was he was holding. “Jesus, Bones, Jesus!” He saw a muscle tense on McCoy’s face, twitching down the side of his eye, the flicker of worry across his eyes.
“I-” Bones mumbled.
Jim closed his eyes, took a breath and gasped against McCoy’s mouth, unsure what to say, suddenly conscious he hadn’t showered since the night before and must be stinking out McCoy’s office. He felt McCoy shift against him.
“It was a dumb idea, sorry, I should have-” McCoy whispered, his face crumpled and he looked away at a point on the shelf over Jim’s right shoulder.
Oh, God. Want rippled through Jim, he clamped his lips hard against his lover, suddenly overwhelmed, his arms wrapped around strong shoulders, legs curling round his hips, bringing him nearer despite the fact he doubted an atom covered in lube could have slid in what space existed between them. His fist tight around his present, he could hear his own needy little moans, McCoy’s whispered words.
“I thought you were pissed at me,” Jim managed to fit in between gulped breaths, kissing McCoy’s face like his life depended on it. Love-stoned and light-headed, he slid his free hand down the front of McCoy’s pants, grasped his cock roughly, pulling him close again so their erections touched base to tip.
“I am, darlin’, I’m always pissed at you.” More kisses, his hand fumbled to meet Jim’s fist, to unlock his closed fingers, to pull out the ring. “So?”
“Yes, Bones, yes.”
McCoy shuddered, let out a moan of relief and manhandled Jim so he sat on the desk.
“Fuck, ouch, careful!” Jim couldn’t help laughing. He parted his legs and watched as McCoy sank to his knees. Their eyes locked and he slipped the ring onto Jim’s hand. Just staring up at him, his eyes the colour of rain-drenched autumn leaves.
“Happy Christmas, Jim.”
“Under his tonge a trewe - love he beer,” Jim quoted, his voice breaking.
“What is that, Klingon?” McCoy growled.
Can a face ‘fold its arms’? Jim found himself wondering, still amazed at how every part of Bones could express grumpiness, “No, asshole,” he said with affection, “Even you can recognise a bit of Klingon - it’s Chaucer. Middle English.”
“Ah.”
Jim ran his left hand through McCoy’s messy hair, while pulling his cock free with the other, holding it in place so Bones could take it in.
“It stops me coming, you know, when I’m close.” He waved the end of his cock at McCoy. “Plus it’s kinda romantic - bit like you getting down on your knees is.”
“Now, why on earth would you want to stop yourself from comin’?”
And if Bones was going to go all deep south on him, he’d have to do the whole of The Miller’s Tale, but he said, “My back, Bones - I don’t think I can move.“
Sinful eyes looked up at him and McCoy’s mouth fell open enough for muffled words, “Just enjoy, baby, you can give me a proper seein’ to once it’s good an’ healed.” And Jim gasped when those hot, delicious fucking lips slid home. Heat coiling in his spine.
“Bones - I’m going to last about- oh-”
McCoy replaced his lips with a thumb swirl across the tip and bad back or no bad back, Jim couldn’t help rocking forward to meet him. His breath quickening, he watched in awe when McCoy pulled away, and fisted him with long, rough strokes, his eyes on Jim’s face the whole time, his chest heaving. Jim’s hand gripped McCoy’s wrist as he came with a swallowed grunt and watched his come arch onto McCoy’s triumphant face. McCoy dipped his head to take Jim’s cock into his mouth and suck the last out of him, Jim’s fingers clenching in his hair, the gold of the ring simple, solid against the softness.
McCoy sat back on his heels and pushed Jim’s leg aside so he could get at the drawer and find some wipes.
Loose boned, Jim sighed and watched through half-closed eyes while McCoy cleaned them both up, a little awed at what had just taken place.
“You want me to-?” he finally offered.
“It’s ok - I’ll take a rain-check,” McCoy drawled. “‘fact, I’ll take a whole fuckin’ rainstorm of checks.” He got up from the floor with a grunt, “Godamn knees.” He stood between Jim’s thighs, nudging his erection across Jim’s belly. “Hey,” he said, kissing Jim’s temple, “When did we start to get old?” He pressed his forehead against him and began to pump himself while Jim stroked his arms, ran his knuckles across his face.
“We’ve still got to do that part, Bones, “Jim breathed into McCoy’s ear when he could feel him getting close. “The best is still to come between us. Thank you, Bones, thank you… fucking love you.“ And he pressed his ring finger against McCoy’s mouth and held tight as he came with a hitched gasp of, “Jim.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes, McCoy leaning on Jim, Jim stroking his back, kissing gentle little kisses.
McCoy went to the cabinet to pull out his second set of scrubs of the morning, uncharacteristically quiet.
“I really need to get down,” Jim finally said.
“Really? You look kinda cute up there.”
“I smell of come.”
“That you do.”
He held out his arm so Jim could use it as support and edge off the desk.
McCoy pressed the door release. “I could have choked. I thought you were never going to kiss me.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve probably built up a resistance all those times you’ve given me head.” Jim waggled his eyebrows. The only part he dared move. “Bones-”
“I left a couple of pills for you there.” He pointed to a pot on the shelf behind Jim. “They’re weak but they’re pretty much all you’re allowed, being such a primadonna and all. And I’ll bring up a regen blanket for you a bit later. Now, I gotta go to work.” He took Jim’s hand and kissed the palm, then the ring again. “I’ll have that back until the big day, thank you kindly.”
Jim reluctantly pulled the ring off and handed it over. McCoy opened the top drawer and popped it back into its case.
McCoy wrapped his arms around him and Jim put his chin on his shoulder. They exchanged wet, lazy kisses.
“When did you buy it, Bones? I mean - how long have you been keeping this a secret?”
McCoy pulled back and scanned Jim’s face. “In Georgia, same day you recorded the holovid with Jo-Jo.”
“Jesus, really? Guess it was written in the stars, huh?”
“Yes, Jim, the Christmas stars,” McCoy grinned with, to give him credit, only a touch of snark. “I figured after seven years of you annoying the hell out of me, it couldn’t get any worse, so we might as well.”
“Grumpy old bastard,” Jim grinned.
“Your grumpy old bastard.” McCoy gave him one last kiss. “Now go take a shower before I have to call security.”
~FIN~
A/N: thanks to ceres_libera for giving me permission to borrow her original idea for a regen blanket - thanks, bb, and Jim's back is most grateful too!
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