[fic] The “Hooker in a Bar” Fic, Part 1
Title: The “Hooker in a Bar” Fic, Part 1
Author: Shingo the Pest
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cupcake/Jim, eventual Bones/Jim
Warning: prostitution, exhibitionism, alcohol
Author's Notes: Written for
24_centuries’s hooker prompt, “Jim working in a bar and he's trying to lure Bones into being a customer and he's all seductive-like and what not and there's lots of slight touches and breathy-voices”. Except I failed at the Bones/Jim part. >______> But that’s why this is part one…
The aggravated man sat down in the stool beside Jim, and ordered a shot of whiskey. As the bartender poured, Jim ran his eyes over the stranger's stubble and worn leather jacket. "I haven't seen you around here before," he inquired casually, half interested.
The scowling man glanced at Jim, a swift up-down, then looked to the mirror behind the bar, and watched the crowd as if they were preferable company to the (extremely handsome) young man he had chosen to sit next to. “No, you haven't. I suppose you know everyone here."
"Oh, I just recognize faces."
"Ah." And the man said nothing past that. He shot back his drink, breathed down the burn, and focused stubbornly on the mirror.
Just to further agitate the man, Jim continued to openly watch him, despite the shrug off. The stranger’s cheeks twitched and his lips pursed, well aware of the attention. The man stiffly breathed in and out, shoulders tense, obviously uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but stubbornly not reacting. Jim smiled, and drank his beer lazily. He could wait out any reluctant john.
But a distracting hand slid up Jim's arm, stroking over his bicep, then up to his deltoid. Jim swallowed his irritation; he really just wanted to spend his night leisurely, maybe playing cat and mouse with this new man. But business first. He turned around to see Matthews, a regular.
"Looks like someone's got the itch, eh Cupcake?" Jim swiveled around until he was completely facing Matthews. His knees bumped the man's sturdy legs, and Matthews, unsmiling, took another step forward, pressing a thigh intimately between Jim's legs.
"I wanna piece of you tonight," the big man challenged. Jim smiled and stood up, pressing their bodies tightly flush. Matthew's erection pressed against him belly.
“But why would I want a piece of you?" He held Matthew's eyes, challenging but with a leisurely grin. He slid his hands down the big man's sides, through t-shirt. Matthew's own hands trailed over Jim' ribs, down to his hips.
"Two hundred dollars says you do." Matthew's hands gripped Kirk's flesh, pressing Jim impossibly closer, gripping his ass, twisting and squeezing.
Jim's smile widened. "I wouldn't kiss you for two hundred dollars. Four hundred for what you want."
Cupcake's lips curled, ready to either snarl or cry. He bounced on his heels impatiently, rocking into Jim. "No way! I ain't paying that, you always do this, always try and jack up the price on me. I paid $350 last time-"
Someone in the crowd sniggered.
"-and I ain't going above that! No fucking way!"
Jim never stopped grinning, slowly stroking Matthew's sides with his palms, then with curled his fingers and a hint of fingernail. He leaned up until his lips teasingly brushed Matthew's. The man's whole body tensed in anticipation. The moment held and bated until finally Kirk completely met their lips, sinking tongue and breath into it. Matthews groaned, and dug his fingers into Jim's ass, thrusting forward.
"-ff-fuck Kirk, I don't have four hundred dollars today!" Cupcake gasped.
"Sure you do, you got paid," Kirk challenged, running his mouth lewdly over Matthew's cheek, then going for his ear.
The poor man seemed to fight with himself, torn over the money. "I got rent coming up..."
"Three hundred straight, and don't expect this deal again," Kirk bartered
Matthews looked torn, "Can't we just, you know, half the deal?"
"Full deal or no deal."
"Damn it. Damn it Kirk! Fuck you!" Cupcake looked angry, angry enough that most tricks would rather walk away. But James T. Kirk wrapped one leg around Matthew's hip, grinding their groins, and pulled the man into a furious, violent kiss. Then Kirk pushed Matthews away, and walked out. The big man fought internally a moment, torn between following or just staying and spending his money on booze. The throbbing, demanding erection made up his mind, and he followed after Kirk, cowed like a kicked dog.
McCoy had watched the drama, and he had his own erection now, after that little exhibitionist show. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Aw hell. Is it always bullshit crazy in here?" he asked the bartender.
"I don't know if a bull's refuse can appropriately determine a psychological neurosis, but yes, Matthews comes in every second Friday, and Jim's bartering methods can be cruel."
McCoy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You always speak like that?"
The bartender tipped his head to the side in confusion. "In what manner do you mean?"
"Never mind. You're a terrible therapist."
The bartender raised an eyebrow back, "I am not a counselor, nor a psychologist. So no, I probably would not make a very good therapist. But I do not understand why you would-"
"Just shuddup."
Forward to Part Two
Author's Note: Revised for a second time 1/7/10.
Author: Shingo the Pest
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cupcake/Jim, eventual Bones/Jim
Warning: prostitution, exhibitionism, alcohol
Author's Notes: Written for
24_centuries’s hooker prompt, “Jim working in a bar and he's trying to lure Bones into being a customer and he's all seductive-like and what not and there's lots of slight touches and breathy-voices”. Except I failed at the Bones/Jim part. >______> But that’s why this is part one…
The aggravated man sat down in the stool beside Jim, and ordered a shot of whiskey. As the bartender poured, Jim ran his eyes over the stranger's stubble and worn leather jacket. "I haven't seen you around here before," he inquired casually, half interested.
The scowling man glanced at Jim, a swift up-down, then looked to the mirror behind the bar, and watched the crowd as if they were preferable company to the (extremely handsome) young man he had chosen to sit next to. “No, you haven't. I suppose you know everyone here."
"Oh, I just recognize faces."
"Ah." And the man said nothing past that. He shot back his drink, breathed down the burn, and focused stubbornly on the mirror.
Just to further agitate the man, Jim continued to openly watch him, despite the shrug off. The stranger’s cheeks twitched and his lips pursed, well aware of the attention. The man stiffly breathed in and out, shoulders tense, obviously uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but stubbornly not reacting. Jim smiled, and drank his beer lazily. He could wait out any reluctant john.
But a distracting hand slid up Jim's arm, stroking over his bicep, then up to his deltoid. Jim swallowed his irritation; he really just wanted to spend his night leisurely, maybe playing cat and mouse with this new man. But business first. He turned around to see Matthews, a regular.
"Looks like someone's got the itch, eh Cupcake?" Jim swiveled around until he was completely facing Matthews. His knees bumped the man's sturdy legs, and Matthews, unsmiling, took another step forward, pressing a thigh intimately between Jim's legs.
"I wanna piece of you tonight," the big man challenged. Jim smiled and stood up, pressing their bodies tightly flush. Matthew's erection pressed against him belly.
“But why would I want a piece of you?" He held Matthew's eyes, challenging but with a leisurely grin. He slid his hands down the big man's sides, through t-shirt. Matthew's own hands trailed over Jim' ribs, down to his hips.
"Two hundred dollars says you do." Matthew's hands gripped Kirk's flesh, pressing Jim impossibly closer, gripping his ass, twisting and squeezing.
Jim's smile widened. "I wouldn't kiss you for two hundred dollars. Four hundred for what you want."
Cupcake's lips curled, ready to either snarl or cry. He bounced on his heels impatiently, rocking into Jim. "No way! I ain't paying that, you always do this, always try and jack up the price on me. I paid $350 last time-"
Someone in the crowd sniggered.
"-and I ain't going above that! No fucking way!"
Jim never stopped grinning, slowly stroking Matthew's sides with his palms, then with curled his fingers and a hint of fingernail. He leaned up until his lips teasingly brushed Matthew's. The man's whole body tensed in anticipation. The moment held and bated until finally Kirk completely met their lips, sinking tongue and breath into it. Matthews groaned, and dug his fingers into Jim's ass, thrusting forward.
"-ff-fuck Kirk, I don't have four hundred dollars today!" Cupcake gasped.
"Sure you do, you got paid," Kirk challenged, running his mouth lewdly over Matthew's cheek, then going for his ear.
The poor man seemed to fight with himself, torn over the money. "I got rent coming up..."
"Three hundred straight, and don't expect this deal again," Kirk bartered
Matthews looked torn, "Can't we just, you know, half the deal?"
"Full deal or no deal."
"Damn it. Damn it Kirk! Fuck you!" Cupcake looked angry, angry enough that most tricks would rather walk away. But James T. Kirk wrapped one leg around Matthew's hip, grinding their groins, and pulled the man into a furious, violent kiss. Then Kirk pushed Matthews away, and walked out. The big man fought internally a moment, torn between following or just staying and spending his money on booze. The throbbing, demanding erection made up his mind, and he followed after Kirk, cowed like a kicked dog.
McCoy had watched the drama, and he had his own erection now, after that little exhibitionist show. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Aw hell. Is it always bullshit crazy in here?" he asked the bartender.
"I don't know if a bull's refuse can appropriately determine a psychological neurosis, but yes, Matthews comes in every second Friday, and Jim's bartering methods can be cruel."
McCoy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You always speak like that?"
The bartender tipped his head to the side in confusion. "In what manner do you mean?"
"Never mind. You're a terrible therapist."
The bartender raised an eyebrow back, "I am not a counselor, nor a psychologist. So no, I probably would not make a very good therapist. But I do not understand why you would-"
"Just shuddup."
Forward to Part Two
Author's Note: Revised for a second time 1/7/10.