ST fic: No Substitute for Our Rendezvous [Kirk/McCoy, adult]
Title: No Substitute for Our Rendezvous Author: celandineb Fandom: Star Trek XI Pairing: Kirk/McCoy Rating: adult Length: 3995 words Warnings: wanking, striptease Summary: It's date night. Note: Twenty-second in the "Heart of the Matter" series. Title taken from the lyrics to "Strip," by Adam and the Ants.
"So where are we going?" Kirk asked on Tuesday night. He wasn't in uniform; McCoy had suggested that, and although Kirk actually rather liked wearing 'Fleet uniform in civilian territory, he didn't mind wearing ordinary clothes at McCoy's request, either. He had dug out a pair of the tan trousers he'd worn in Atlanta, and a light blue shirt and the one sport coat he owned, and was now lounging on McCoy's bed, watching him get dressed.
"A restaurant," said McCoy uninformatively.
Kirk rolled his eyes. "Yes, I got that, but what kind of restaurant?"
"One that one of the other doctors recommended to me. I've never been there myself."
"What kind of food do they serve? Damn, Bones, it's like pulling teeth to get anything out of you."
"It's called Ichiban, and I guess some sort of Pacific fusion cuisine is what they do. Seafood. That sort of thing." McCoy's fingers moved rapidly, buttoning his shirt. Kirk had a sudden impulse to go over and unbutton it again.
"You said you'd made a reservation?" he asked, keeping his voice casual.
"Yeah, and if we don't leave in the next few minutes, we're going to be late."
It would bother McCoy a lot if they missed the reservation, Kirk was certain of that, so he pushed aside the thought of persuading him to have sex first, and said, "I'm ready whenever you are."
McCoy tucked in his shirttails and buckled his belt. "Just let me grab a jacket, and my umbrella. They were predicting rain tonight."
They caught a cab to the restaurant, since McCoy wasn't convinced that the bus would get them there before seven. The decor inside was interesting, Kirk thought, with a very Japanese feel despite having Western-style chairs and tables. He was relieved by that, since sitting cross-legged for a couple of hours seemed like it would become uncomfortable. It was also refreshingly quiet. After a minute Kirk realized that there was actually piped music, a whispering flute of some sort, but subdued enough that the restaurant's customers could speak softly and still hear one another. He felt almost as though he was too noisy, following the hostess to their table, where she presented them each with a menu, bowed, and left on noiseless feet.
The menus were written in both English and Chinese, which Kirk recognized a few characters of but couldn't really read.
After studying it for a few minutes, he ordered a salad composed of a surprising combination of seaweed and local baby vegetables, and monkfish crusted in sesame seeds, and a Japanese beer he'd never even heard of before. Rather to Kirk's surprise, McCoy chose a selection of sushi.
When their drinks arrived, Kirk lifted his toward McCoy. "To us."
McCoy bit his lip, but echoed, "To us."
They drank.
"Three more months," mused Kirk, setting down his glass. "I can't decide whether it seems like an eternity or no time at all."
"No time at all." McCoy shook his head. "I can't believe all of the requirements we still have to fulfill before graduation... you more than me. Isn't there still that big command test that everyone in that track has to take?"
"Yeah, the Kobayashi Maru." Kirk smiled at the waitress bringing the dish of edamame they’d ordered as an appetizer, then scowled as he picked one up and shelled it. "No one's ever passed that test."
"Really?" McCoy raised his eyebrows. "I guess it's not as important as they make it out to be, then."
"I'm going to pass it." Kirk made it a positive statement. "I've gotten hold of the records on it for the past ten years. The test isn’t identical every year, but there are certain similarities. I'm going to analyze all of the strategies that have been tried, see if I can figure out why it's apparently unwinnable and how I might beat it."
McCoy's eyes were worried. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Jim? Not the studying part, but getting the old records? Didn't you have to hack into one of the 'Fleet databases to find them?"
"Don't worry about it." Kirk brushed McCoy's caution aside. "I know my way around computers, and how to cover my tracks. All the data is now safely downloaded into a PADD; if there were going to be any problems I'd have already found out."
"If you say so," said McCoy a little dubiously. He ate a few edamame. "When you think we'll hear about our assignments? We never hear about any of that over in Medical."
"Not for a while yet. Probably not until shortly before graduation. Hey, you remember where we met, at that shipyard in Iowa?"
"Of course."
"Well, the big starship they were building there is supposed to be finished any time now, and I heard a rumor that Captain Pike was going to be assigned to it. Wouldn't it be fantastic if we both got lucky enough to get to be on her maiden voyage?" Kirk grinned. He didn't really expect such luck, although he'd always had more than his share, but a man could hope.
The waitress cleared away the dish of empty edamame pods and placed a small bowl before each of them. Kirk looked at it and stirred experimentally. "What is this?" He didn't remember ordering soup.
"Miso soup," said McCoy.
"Ah." Kirk supposed it must be included with every entrée. He tried a spoonful and discovered that it was better than he remembered.
"Did you get a lot of studying done today?" McCoy asked.
"Some." Kirk glanced at him. "I was also trying to figure out a way to make sure that we be assigned to the same ship, whatever it is. I think I've come up with something."
"Oh yeah?" McCoy looked interested if wary, and drank the last of his soup with a slurp. "How are you going to manage that?"
"I did some searching around to learn how the assignments are actually made. It turns out that any or all of our instructors and supervisors here at the Academy can file recommendations, and those can range from something general like 'he would do better on a smaller ship' to 'I would recommend him as a third lieutenant in the science department of a cruiser class exploratory vessel', and then all of those recommendations get put into your file and correlated."
"Okay, that makes sense, but so what?"
"So, since there's a lot of possible data for each cadet, and they're usually trying to assign well over a hundred individuals with each graduating class, and since existing personnel dispositions are constantly changing out in the fleet, they must be making the assignments by computer, which can juggle all the factors far more efficiently than any person could. I think I've come up with a strategy. What I need to do is program a subroutine that will hook our names together when the computer is doing the sorting; then it will treat us like a single individual, so that we can't be separated."
McCoy looked skeptical. "Can you do that?"
"Oh, sure. There’s probably something similar already in place for working out transfers for married couples, after all."
It struck him then, for the first time, that if they were to get married, he wouldn't have to do this at all: while Starfleet didn't encourage marriage amongst the cadets, precisely because it made it more difficult to place them, it did happen and Kirk knew that in such cases every effort was made to post the pair together. He wasn't ready to suggest that option to McCoy, however. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted to be married, regardless of his feelings for the other person; as an institution it didn't hold much appeal for him. Maybe someday. Maybe. But certainly not anytime soon.
"Anyhow," he continued, "it shouldn't be too difficult, and it certainly doesn't hurt anyone. I might program in a few more linked pairs besides ourselves, too, as a kind of a blind just on the remote chance that anyone notices."
"You're gonna get yourself kicked out, and then we definitely won't serve together," McCoy warned, shaking his head.
Their main courses had arrived, and Kirk took a bite of his before answering. "No, I won't, not for this. If I tried to jigger it so that we were assigned to a specific ship, maybe; especially if it were a ship in a category that either of our instructors had specifically suggested would be unsuitable for any reason. But I can't believe that our recommendations would be so very different that it would be impossible for us to be placed on the same ship at all, as long as I don't try to choose the ship. While yeah, there are certain ones I'd prefer, given the choice, I'd rather be with you than on the latest and greatest vessel in the whole fleet."
Every word was true, but Kirk also liked the way that compliments like that made McCoy turn pink under his five o'clock shadow.
"Just don't get yourself expelled, Jim," McCoy muttered. "Because I'd rather we serve separately than that you get thrown out for conduct unbecoming an officer. You may be on the reckless side but I think you'll be an asset to Starfleet. Eventually. Plus, after all your hard work for three years it would be terrible for you to lose your chance."
"Don't worry, I won't get caught, not over this." Kirk brushed aside McCoy's concern. "I just don't believe in no-win scenarios, that's all, so if I see a way out of one, I'll figure out a way to take it."
McCoy looked as though he might make another protest, but he didn't, simply shrugging in acceptance. He dabbed a bit of wasabi paste onto a piece of sushi and added a slice of pickled ginger before he bit into it.
"What's in that, anyhow?" Kirk asked, glad to change the subject for a time.
"This is tuna." McCoy tapped another piece with his chopstick. "There are also salmon, crab, and octopus."
"Octopus?" Kirk would never have figured McCoy as eating something so outlandish.
McCoy nodded. "Not my favorite, actually, but it was a fixed assortment, and I don't dislike it. I like all of the rest quite well." A shadow passed over his face. "Jocelyn and I used to go out for sushi occasionally; I thought it might be good for me to acquire some better associations for it."
Kirk felt warm to hear that. "I hope it works."
"I'm sure it will." McCoy gave him a little smile.
Talking about more inconsequential matters, they finished their meal and left the restaurant.
"Want to go to Ocean Beach?" McCoy asked.
Kirk started to shake his head, but changed his mind. It was a damp foggy night, though not raining yet despite the prediction, but they were both dressed for it, and if they got chilly it would just be an excuse to cuddle close together.
When they'd reached their favorite spot down near the ruins of the old Sutro Baths, Kirk said, "I seem to remember you saying on Sunday something about letting me have my wicked way with you."
"I did say that, didn't I?" McCoy sat down on a convenient stone, bracing his hands beside him, and stretched so that his whole body arched backward. "But if that's what you wanted to do, we should've gone back to one of our rooms, don't you think?"
"We could start out here and go back after a while."
Kirk sat next to McCoy. The rock was barely big enough to hold both of them, so he stood again and instead sat down on McCoy's lap, facing him, and wrapped his legs around McCoy's waist, his arms around McCoy's shoulders.
"Ow," McCoy complained. "You're heavy and this rock is awfully hard."
"Don't be a baby." Kirk bent and kissed him.
After a few kisses McCoy had stopped grumbling. He put his arms around Kirk, one hand slipped under Kirk's jacket, palm warm and firm against Kirk's spine. It was almost like making out in the back of the football stand back in Iowa, Kirk thought, except better because he knew what was going to happen later, and knew too that McCoy wasn't doing this because it would impress his friends or anything like that. McCoy tasted of tea and wasabi and ginger, his tongue probing Kirk's mouth, sending shivers down his spine.
Eventually Kirk shifted – his dick was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper – and McCoy took advantage of the pause to say, "Maybe now would be a good time to leave, before we're both totally unable to walk? Besides, I don't know about you, but I didn't bring anything and I don't want to just rub off against you like a teenager."
"Okay." Kirk unwound himself and stood up a little unsteadily, grabbing McCoy's shoulder to balance himself. McCoy reached out and used Kirk's arm to lever himself to a standing position also.
"How shall we go home?"
"Bus," they both agreed.
They got lucky and a bus pulled up at the nearest stop only seconds after they had reached it. Kirk grinned at McCoy.
"You do have the damnedest luck," McCoy said. "As long as it doesn't run out."
"I know I do, but I make my own luck, too," Kirk said, settling down in the seat and turning his head to look out the window. He liked watching all the streets and people flicker by. "Do you want to go to your room or mine, tonight?"
"Yours," said McCoy. "I don't suppose Sidhu would mind if I borrow his bed, since he's away; I'll change the sheets in the morning if I do."
"We could share my bed."
"The cadet beds are awfully narrow, and you're kind of a restless sleeper, Jim. I learned that in Atlanta," said McCoy. He reached out and pulled the bell for their stop. "How about we just see what happens, and if we fall asleep in your bed, fine, and if not I'll use Sidhu's and make it fresh in the morning. I feel like sleeping in the same room with you and I don't have to be at the clinic until noon tomorrow."
Kirk shrugged. "Whatever, then."
Up in his room, he cocked his head and looked at McCoy. "I think my wicked way with you is going to start by having you undress slowly while I watch."
"Let me use the bathroom first. And can I borrow your toothbrush?"
"Of course." Kirk decided he should probably brush his teeth, too, since McCoy was, and use the toilet while he was at it, after all that beer and tea in the restaurant.
He was quicker than McCoy, and went back out to lie, propped up on one elbow, on his bed until McCoy was ready. He didn't undress but adjusted his clothes so that he could palm himself while he watched McCoy.
"So you want me to strip, then?" McCoy looked a little embarrassed by the whole notion.
"Yeah. Let me turn down the lights. Do you want a little music to get you in the mood?"
"No music." McCoy made a face. "You'd pick some dreadful twentieth-century bump and grind stuff, I know it."
Kirk put on a hurt expression. "Would I do that?"
"Yeah." McCoy rolled his eyes.
"You can pick the music if you want to."
"No, I'm fine with nothing, really. I already feel like a complete idiot, as if I were trying to be showgirl or something."
"Up to you. I'd feel less silly with music, myself." Kirk ordered the computer to turn down the lights. "Okay, go ahead."
McCoy took a visible breath and let it out. He slipped off the sport coat he'd been wearing and laid it on Sidhu's bed. One by one he began to unbutton the buttons of his shirt to reveal a broad chest beneath, his nipples peeping rosy through the springy curls of hair. Kirk wondered how he'd spent so many years chasing women and never realized how sexy a man's body could be. Not that he didn't still find women attractive, sometimes very much so – there was that Orion girl in the Xenolinguistics club, for instance, and who would've thought that green skin could be so hot? – but the male body had all the extra excitement of unfamiliarity, from a spectator's perspective anyhow. He was plenty familiar with his own male body.
McCoy had finished unbuttoning his shirt. He arched his back and extended his arms behind him, so that the fabric slid smoothly down and away, catching the shirt in one hand as it fell and tossing it in a crumpled heap onto the bed. He unbuckled his belt but left it threaded through the loops of his trousers as he started to undo them. Unzipping them revealed the bulge of his erection, clearly outlined against his white briefs. The elastic kept his dick curled over, trapped the way Kirk's still was too. McCoy pulled off his shoes, lining them up a trifle crookedly beside the bed, before pulling his trousers all the way down and off. His socks came next, and finally his underwear, and he stood naked, facing Kirk. The whole time he had made no effort to be seductive, to position himself to best advantage, or to touch himself enticingly. That very straightforwardness, the way that McCoy was almost unaware of the power of his own sexuality, Kirk found more erotic than any more overt display would have been.
He reached out a hand. "Come here."
McCoy lay down beside him, their bodies pressed together on the narrow bed. Kirk ran one hand along McCoy's side, from shoulder to hip, sliding around to squeeze one ass cheek. McCoy smiled.
"That what you wanted, Jim?"
Kirk nodded. "It's a good start. I think I'd better join you in your lack of attire now, though."
He gave McCoy a fast kiss and stood up, shucking off his clothing rapidly and making sure the lube was within reach before rejoining McCoy on the bed. They kissed there for some minutes, legs intertwined so that their dicks pressed close together, rocking against each other until the bed frame began to squeak. Kirk stroked McCoy's skin, finding every sensitive spot until McCoy was squirming, protesting that it tickled. Then he desisted, but only to say, "I want to watch you lube yourself up, get yourself ready for me."
McCoy ran his tongue over his lips and nodded. "Give me the lube." When Kirk handed it over, he squeezed some out onto his fingers and raised one knee, curling over so that he could reach between his legs at a better angle.
Kirk propped himself up to watch.
First McCoy pressed a fingertip against his pucker, easing a bit of the gel inside, then rubbed in a tiny circle until the sphincter relaxed a little. More gel, and his finger slid inside easily. He rotated it in a half circle a few times, pulled out, and went back in with two fingers and more lube. A sigh escaped him, scarcely audible but with a note of contentment to it.
His eyelids had closed in concentration as he worked on himself, and so Kirk whispered to warn him, "Gonna touch you now." He reached and slid his own forefinger in beside McCoy's two fingers, watching McCoy's expression tighten and relax again as Kirk entered him. It was warm, moist from the lube, and strangely almost more intimate to have their two hands together, touching him like this, than when it was Kirk's dick there instead.
Sweat had begun to sheen McCoy's face. "Jim... please..."
"Yes, Bones. I'm here." Kirk shifted, letting his fingers slide away from McCoy's hole. Quickly he slicked up and, after gently pulling McCoy's hand away, pressed his dick against the loosened aperture, sliding smoothly inside.
McCoy drew a shuddering breath and grabbed onto the backs of his thighs, keeping his legs raised as Kirk began to thrust. "Fuck yes, yes."
With each stroke Kirk felt the heat rise within him, lifting him to dizzying heights of desire. This was what he had always loved about sex, this rush, this high, but it was even better with McCoy whom he cared about, hell, who was he kidding, whom he loved. He looked at McCoy's face below him, head tipped back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted as he panted under Kirk's thrusts. Kirk slowed his tempo, wanting to prolong the moment. As his movements became more languid, McCoy opened his eyes and smiled.
"I love you."
"I love you, too." It got a little easier to say each time, Kirk discovered. "This good?" he asked as he changed his angle slightly.
"Oh yeah, it's good." McCoy smiled again. "I won't break, you know."
"No, but I might come too soon," said Kirk.
McCoy seemed to give a little shrug, although it was hard to tell since Kirk's movements kept jostling him. "What's too soon? We have all the time we want tonight to do anything we feel like."
"Yeah, but I'm enjoying this and I don't want it to be over any faster than I can help."
"Fair enough."
Talking had helped cool things down a fraction, though, so Kirk let himself speed up a little. He didn't pound into McCoy the way the other man had done to him on Sunday, but Kirk had wanted it rough then. He hadn't been sure why, so he'd been thankful that McCoy hadn't pressed for any explanation, just given him what he'd needed that night.
He was spiraling up again in a crescendo of arousal, gritting his teeth as he fought to draw it out just a little longer, three more thrusts, two more, one, and the gentle explosion hit him, gushing out through his dick into McCoy's body.
He barely heard McCoy's, "Yes, Jim," as he sank forward, pressing his lips to McCoy's shoulder. McCoy rolled them over, Kirk's dick slipping out of his ass as they moved, and let his legs sink.
"You wanted to watch me undress. Do you want to watch me touch myself now?" he asked in a low voice.
The offer surprised Kirk, given McCoy's earlier reluctance and mild embarrassment over the striptease, but he certainly wasn't going to say no. He nodded, and McCoy wriggled a little away so that Kirk could see him, keeping his eyes on Kirk's face as he reached down and took his dick into his left hand. It had been flaccid while Kirk had been fucking him, but now it quickly hardened in his fist. McCoy didn't use any fancy techniques, just a firm steady stroke, so that the head kept appearing and disappearing through the circle of his finger and thumb.
Kirk watched with fascination. He hadn't seen another man masturbate since he was maybe fourteen, in circle jerks with his buddies as they talked about the girls they wanted to do it with, and back then he'd been too urgent to come himself to really watch anyone else very closely. Besides, being caught staring at another guy's dick would have brought him in for serious teasing or worse. Watching McCoy was hot, though, and if he hadn't just gotten off he'd have been hard in a minute.
He knew McCoy was going to come an instant before it happened, just from the way McCoy stiffened and clutched himself harder. White spurts pulsed through his fingers, splattering against his stomach and the bed. Kirk reached out and dabbed at a splash of it, bringing his finger up to his lips to taste. It tasted pretty much like his own. He squirmed forward and put his lips to McCoy's forehead.
"Thanks, Bones."
"You're welcome, Jim." McCoy's voice was gruff. He pulled Kirk close and they fell asleep in a sticky tangle, narrow bed notwithstanding.