Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2009-06-29 12:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | star trek fic hotm, star trek fic kirk/mccoy |
Star Trek fic: Never Go Easy [Kirk/McCoy, adult]
Title: Never Go Easy
Author: celandineb
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: adult
Length: 3362 words
Warnings: language, oral sex
Summary: McCoy isn't sure what he wants, and Kirk's actions don't really help.
Note: Seventh in the "Heart of the Matter" series. Title taken from the song "The Lesson of Love" by The Dream Academy.
Last night he had quite deliberately not allowed Kirk to reciprocate. Not that he hadn't wanted him to, hadn't imagined what it would be like to have Kirk's hands on him, Kirk's mouth perhaps wrapped around his dick, but when it came right down to it he was afraid to let that happen. For all that he knew intellectually that Kirk was very far from monogamous – he'd seen it, for chrissakes, and Kirk had flat-out said it as well, just in case McCoy had had his head in the sand for the past two years and more – he had the terrible suspicion that if he let Kirk actually do anything much to him, he would have that much more difficult a time coping with it when, inevitably, Kirk moved on to someone new. It was scant consolation that the someone new would doubtless be a woman, not another man.
Because McCoy had no illusions about that, either. Kirk might be curious about what sex with a man was like, but his history suggested there was no way he would ever prefer it to sex with women, not over time. If that were the case, Kirk would have started having sex with men long since.
He hadn't let himself suck Kirk off for more or less the same reason; he obsessed over him enough as it was. Having a memory of that... no. Too likely to be painful. Moreover there was the small detail that McCoy hadn't given head that many times, and wasn't sure of his skill there, and Kirk doubtless had had some pretty fantastic blow jobs from women. McCoy didn't think he wanted to compete that way.
But he was wool-gathering when he ought to be concentrating on his patients. He turned his attention to the injury at hand, which luckily was just a simple fracture. One of the nurses could probably have handled it, if he weren't there. Nevertheless he welcomed the distraction of work.
After what Kirk had said last night, McCoy half-expected him to turn up in the waiting room at some point, but as the day dragged on he convinced himself that Kirk had only said that to say something, not because he'd really meant it. At the end of his shift, therefore, he was surprised to find Kirk waiting outside the building.
"Bored, Jim?"
"I said I'd stop by, didn't I?" Kirk widened his eyes guilelessly.
"Yeah," McCoy allowed, "but don't you usually work on Saturdays, catch up with all your classes?"
"I got up early today." Kirk shrugged. "I wanted to see you, but if you're busy..."
"No," said McCoy hastily. "That is, I have lab reports to finish for Xenovirology, but if you still have any studying to do, we could study together."
"Sounds good." Kirk gave him a sunny smile. "I always have studying to do, you know that; hazards of completing a four-year program in three."
"And you still ace your classes, belong to the Xenolinguistics club, help teach advanced hand-to-hand combat, and god knows what else." McCoy scrubbed a hand over his face. He had overslept, hadn't had time to shave that morning, and his beard itched.
"I'm treasurer of the club, actually," Kirk corrected, "but the combat instructor's kind of annoyed with me right now for skipping out Thursday night. I told him I wasn't feeling well, but I don't think he believed me. Do you suppose my doctor could write me a note of excuse?"
"I'm not your doctor," McCoy pointed out.
"You could be. I just have to put in a request to be transferred to you as a patient, right?"
Kirk was correct, of course. Cadets were randomly assigned to a physician upon arrival at Starfleet Academy, a purely nominal designation for record-keeping, and could choose a different physician at will.
"If you want." McCoy kept his voice calm. "But I'm not going to breach medical ethics to write you an excuse saying you were ill when you weren't."
"How do you know I wasn't ill?"
"Come on, Jim, I was with you on Thursday night. You tracked me down in the cafeteria and dragged me off to Ocean Beach, and you didn't show any signs of being less than perfectly well." Not with the way you were kissing me. McCoy glared. He was not going to let Kirk persuade him into this. Kirk was the rule-breaker, not McCoy.
"I'm good at faking it." Kirk smirked. "I think you should at least give me a quick exam. If you don't find anything wrong, I'll come up with something else to convince Jiang to forgive me."
"Oh, for the love of pete. Fine. I'm off-duty, but fine, if that'll satisfy you. But then I really do have to go finish those Xenovirology reports."
As McCoy expected, the examination showed Kirk to be completely healthy, save for a few still-visible bruises on his ribs.
"Another bar brawl? How did I miss that one?" McCoy let his tone be acid, but he kept his hands gentle as he probed the old injuries.
"No." Kirk winced slightly. "Hand-to-hand combat practice last week. Jiang was using me as a sparring partner to show the class a new move, and I didn't dodge fast enough."
McCoy entered the data into Kirk's file, and chewed over the thought that he now had the right to read all of Kirk's medical history, if he wanted. In fact, he really ought to read it; a good doctor should know all he could about his patients.
"Well," he said gruffly, "a few contusions aren't a major health problem, but I suppose I could retroactively authorize some analgesics that would affect you enough to make combat practice unwise. I'll place a note in your file, dated Wednesday."
"Thanks, Bones. That's mighty kind of you," said Kirk with a grin, pulling his uniform tunic back on. "Now I don't want to delay you any longer from working on those lab reports. Tell you what. You go start on them, and I'll track down a pizza and bring it along. Sausage and mushroom, right?"
McCoy's stomach growled. He'd only eaten a stale egg sandwich and an apple all day. "Sounds good," he admitted.
"I'll be at your room in half an hour, forty minutes at most," Kirk promised, leaving McCoy on the steps outside the clinic.
Even forty minutes wasn't much time, not when McCoy had to trot back to his dorm and shower. That was part of his ritual to separate the doctor from the man. He'd begun doing so during his marriage, since his wife complained when he smelled of the hospital – the antiseptics, he supposed – and he'd kept up the habit even after the divorce. He shaved, too, realizing afterward that Kirk might think he had cleaned up just for him. Well, that couldn't be helped.
In a fresh uniform, McCoy sat at his desk to begin working on his reports, although he knew he'd have only a few minutes before Kirk arrived with the pizza. When he logged into his PADD, a message from Matthews popped up.
Off to the observatory on La Palma to use the Gran Telescopio Canarias. Back Monday.
So, no roommate. McCoy tapped his fingers, mulling that over. If he let Kirk know, then very likely Kirk would want to make the most of the situation. The question was whether that was what McCoy wanted... and he just wasn't sure.
Then again, he'd half-promised Kirk yesterday that they would have sex once more – and if, as McCoy rather expected, that was the end of things between them, perhaps it was better that it happen sooner rather than later, to give him time to heal before the end of his stint at the Academy. He certainly didn't need to be distracted by his emotions when it came time to take all his final exams. McCoy sighed. He knew that Kirk was going to be able to persuade him, regardless of his own judgment. Kirk always could.
He had just gotten well into the first of the four reports he had to complete when the intercom buzzed, and he rose to let Kirk in.
"Two pizzas? My god, man, how much do you think I can eat? Or should eat?"
Kirk shrugged. "They were having a special, and cold leftover pizza is good. So the sausage and mushroom is for you, and I got the deluxe with everything except onions." He set the boxes on Matthews' desk, following them with a bag that he opened to reveal a six-pack of beer. "Better than anything from the cafeteria, right?"
"Definitely," McCoy agreed, although he reminded himself that he needed to finish the reports, and that had better take precedence over drinking or anything else, except food. His stomach was practically sitting up and begging at the smell of sausage. "Thanks, Jim."
"No trouble." Kirk flipped open a carton and looked around. "Plates?"
"Over there." McCoy pointed to a shelf. The plates belonged to Matthews, but he wouldn't mind.
Kirk piled a couple of slices on a plate and passed it over, then took a piece of his own. "There's enough for your roomie to have some if he comes back and wants any," he said indistinctly, sucking in air to cool down his first bite. "Or is he gone for the evening?"
"He's gone, yeah." McCoy cleared his throat. "In fact I had a message that he's in Europe and won't be back till Monday. Some sort of astronomical field trip, I guess."
"Is he, now." A gleam lit Kirk's eyes. "Good to know."
"Didn't you bring anything to study?" McCoy asked pointedly.
"Oh sure. Don't worry, Bones, you'll have time for your reports." Kirk took another slice of pizza and opened a bottle of the beer. "Want one?"
"Just one for now."
"I didn't figure you for a two-fisted drinker, not under present circumstances anyhow." He passed the bottle to McCoy and opened a second for himself.
After he finished his second slice of pizza and had drunk about half his beer, McCoy returned to his work. He was distantly aware of Kirk pulling out his own PADD and settling in at Matthews' desk. The reports were not difficult to write up; he had all the data necessary and it was merely a question of organizing it appropriately and adding a few paragraphs of explanation and analysis.
As he was putting the finishing touches on the fourth and last, he realized that Kirk was no longer sitting at the other desk, and looked up to see him reclining on McCoy's own bed, propped up by a couple of pillows, drinking another beer and watching McCoy work.
"What?" McCoy asked a little crossly, not liking the feeling that he'd been observed without his knowledge.
"Just wondering if you were close to being done," said Kirk, completely at ease. "I've done all that I'm going to, tonight. In terms of studying, that is." His lips quirked, emphasizing the mild hint.
"One more to finish," said McCoy, and returned to it. He didn't hurry, though, still conflicted as to whether or not he wanted to go along with Kirk's obvious plan, although seeing Kirk sprawled in his bed was a definite temptation.
He was reading through the fourth report one last time before sending them all off to the instructor when he heard a slight creak from the bed, which he'd scarcely registered before Kirk's hands were on his shoulders, Kirk's breath warm against his neck.
"I can tell you're finished; you're not tapping away anymore," Kirk said. His thumbs dug into McCoy's trapezius muscles, easing the tightness there. "I believe yesterday you said something about letting me handle things for you?"
McCoy tried to relax his shoulders under Kirk's fingers, but it was difficult when his sheer proximity was making certain parts of McCoy's anatomy very un-relaxed indeed.
"I might have said something like that, yeah."
"Then come on." Kirk tugged him first upright, then over to the bed.
There was no point in trying to resist Jim Kirk when he wanted something, McCoy told himself. Kirk would give him that devil-may-care grin, and McCoy's resistance would crumble. Why even try to hold back in the first place?
Somehow Kirk had already managed to get mostly naked without McCoy noticing, and now he was methodically removing McCoy's uniform as well, dropping the tunic and trousers in a crumpled heap on the floor.
"At least you could put them on the chair," McCoy grumbled. "They're practically clean still."
Kirk rolled his eyes, but scooped the clothes up and draped them over the chair back. "Better?" he inquired.
"Yes, thank you," said McCoy, and then gasped when Kirk embraced him and drew him down onto the bed.
"You did everything yesterday. Now it's my turn," Kirk told him, and before McCoy could make any objection – if he'd wanted to – Kirks lips were pressed against his own, coaxing his mouth open to exchange deep demanding kisses.
After a while Kirk began to explore; when he bit and sucked McCoy's neck just below the ear, McCoy groaned. Kirk bit the same spot again, hard enough that McCoy was sure he'd have a bruise the next day.
Something to remind me, he thought with resignation. Kirk was moving on again, running his fingers through the hair on McCoy's chest and tugging gently at it.
"So different," McCoy heard him murmur.
McCoy brushed his fingertips over Kirk's forehead, smoothing back stray strands of hair, and Kirk looked up and smiled.
"Tell me what you want, Bones."
What McCoy wanted was for Kirk not to be quite his own careless non-monogamous self. But that wasn't what Kirk was asking for, so McCoy offered up another piece of truth.
"Whatever you want to do, Jim, I'll enjoy it."
He seriously doubted Kirk would even consider penetration – and he wouldn't want that anyway, not unless this was going to turn into something more than a couple of casual encounters. Even a blow job might be more intimate than McCoy could bear. He certainly wasn't going to request one. He expected Kirk to reciprocate the hand job McCoy had given him last night; Kirk had a strong sense of fair play.
"Okay, but you only have yourself to blame if you don't like what I do." Kirk reached for the waistband of McCoy's underwear, wordlessly urging him to lift his hips and sliding the fabric down and off. "You don't care if these end up on the floor, do you?" he asked with a chuckle.
"No." McCoy found himself grinning back.
"Good."
Kirk pulled off his own briefs too, then rolled back so that the length of his naked body was pressed against McCoy's.
God. It had been years since he'd been with someone like this. For the last eighteen months of his marriage, he and his wife had scarcely touched each other. To have it be Kirk... he swallowed hard and put his arms around him, his hands sliding along Kirk's back and down to his firm ass, pulling the two of them together.
"You feel good, Bones," murmured Kirk with a note in his voice that McCoy thought was surprise. "But I'm gonna make you feel even better." He began to rock his hips minutely, just enough to tantalize with friction through the slippery sweat beginning to dampen their bodies. His head dipped down, mouth attacking McCoy's neck anew.
McCoy closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, unable to resist watching Kirk writhing against him, gradually moving downward to bite at one nipple, then the other, leaving them tender as he descended further still. McCoy tensed. Was he – ?
Kirk's cheek brushed the head of McCoy's dick, scraping rough-smooth with the hint of stubble, and he looked up, blue eyes shining, put out his tongue and very deliberately licked, just once, warm and wet and with no reserve whatsoever.
"Damn it, Jim," whispered McCoy hoarsely. "I never heard you were a tease."
"Just seeing what you taste like. Not bad," said Kirk, before he stopped talking and sealed his mouth around the shaft, taking in only half of it but McCoy was not going to complain about anything just now, not when Kirk had one hand rubbing the rest of McCoy's dick and the other hand fondling his balls, already drawn high and tight.
He wouldn't come this fast; no matter how many years it had been since he'd been in such a situation, he wasn't going to let it end this quickly. His nails were barely long enough to let him dig them into his palms as he watched Kirk sucking him, but that distracted his senses just enough to keep him poised on the edge of orgasm.
As Kirk fluttered his tongue along the vein that beat on the underside of his cock, though, McCoy could feel the inevitable climax building.
"Jim – gonna come," he gasped in warning, but Kirk ignored him, sucking harder, his teeth grazing skin and swollen flesh until McCoy could hold back no longer, and gripped the sheets in tight twists as he spurted into Kirk's mouth.
He was dimly aware of Kirk pulling away; by the time he caught his breath Kirk was pressed against him once more, dick throbbing where it touched McCoy's hip as Kirk kissed him, feeding him the bitter-salt taste of his own semen.
"All right?" Kirk lifted his mouth away from McCoy's to ask.
"Fuck yes," said McCoy fervently, although one part of his mind was already bitterly regretting having let Kirk do what he'd done, because how was he ever going to forget it now?
"Good," Kirk said with almost indecent satisfaction. "Fast learner, me."
That provoked McCoy to a reluctant laugh. "You do have the biggest damned ego, don't you?"
"Right now I have the biggest damned hard-on," corrected Kirk, "and I could use some help with it."
He took McCoy's left hand and guided it to his erection. "See? I remember you saying you're a lefty for this."
McCoy picked up the rhythm of Kirk's stroke, and together they brought him off in a series of pulses that splattered almost chin-high. Kirk collapsed against McCoy's chest for a moment, smearing them both with sticky dampness, before reaching over the edge of the bed and coming up with a pair of briefs – McCoy couldn't tell if they were Kirk's or his own – to wipe off the worst of the mess.
"That was good." Kirk's voice was thoughtful, but the next thing he said was, "I could go for another slice of pizza and maybe some more beer, how about you?"
McCoy shook his head, but after Kirk got up and sat, still naked, on Matthews' desk chair to gnaw eagerly at his pizza, McCoy decided that perhaps he was hungry again after all and retrieved himself a slice as well.
He couldn't think what to say or do, now, and Kirk seemed equally unsure, sneaking glances at McCoy over the edge of his pizza crust.
"I suppose I should be going," said Kirk at last, setting down his empty bottle and reaching for the uniform he'd discarded on the floor.
"It's getting late," McCoy agreed, although in fact it was scarcely eleven, and he knew perfectly well that Kirk often was out until one or two in the morning or even later. "See you tomorrow?"
"I'm going to be really busy tomorrow. Studying." Kirk didn't quite look at McCoy as he said it. "Maybe Monday."
"Sure." McCoy summoned up a smile. "Whenever. Don't forget to take your leftovers; you can have mine, too, for Sidhu. I'm not much for cold pizza."
When the door had closed behind Kirk, he went over to the bed, stripping the sheets and remaking it with fresh ones with a practiced economy of movement, shoving the old sheets into the laundry chute. Then he showered in water as hot as he could stand it, soaping himself almost savagely, over and over, until he was able to scour his mind as clean of thought as his body was clean of even a trace of what he and Kirk had done.
#6: Curtains Are Pulled Back | #8: Fools Rush In