FIC: Various Kirk/McCoy ficlets

[the_water_clock]

Author: Clio
Pairing: Star Trek: James T. Kirk/Leonard McCoy
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by one of the large media companies in a complicated arrangement to which I am not a signatory. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you so much to aome, who pitched in and went through these like a sport. These fics all started as comment fics for team_jones, either there or on various st_respect party posts. Thanks to everyone who commented on them there for the massive encouragement!

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Title: Anatomy Lesson
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Bones likes to inventory all of Jim's component parts.
Length: 100 words
Notes: Drabble written for one of the team_jones drabble fests, based on the word "located."

"If you lie still and shut up," Bones had said, "you'll get a handsome reward."

But it was hard with Bones's voice rumbling Latin, each muscle group named and lovingly caressed. Jim went from impatient to turned on to totally blissed out, nothing existing but the sight and sound and smell and feel of Bones.

"The prostate is located just below the bladder and can be stimulated through the anal wall," Bones said, sliding two lubed fingers into Jim. "And that concludes our anatomy lesson."

"So what's my reward?" Jim asked.

Bones smiled, entering Jim in one smooth thrust. "Me."

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Title: Bones and Tongue
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bones has a talented tongue, no matter what he's using it for.
Length: 500 words
Notes: Written to be ship-neutral, though my head voice was obviously Jim.

My favorite part of him has to be his tongue. And no, not just for those reasons.

He's always talking. He talks when he's irritable (which, let's face it, is most of the time), he talks when he's panicking, he talks when I'm panicking, he talks to soothe, to goad, to joke, to get what he wants, to get what he thinks I want, to win the goddamned argument why am I surrounded by MORONS?

He has a pretty extensive vocabulary, even if his favorite word is "damnit." He talked me into bed, after all.

Sometimes, especially when he's shouting about something I already agree with and I know he just needs to vent, I watch his mouth, watch his tongue form all those words that are floating past me, listen to the low rumbling growl of his voice, and when he's run out of steam I kiss him, and direct his energies to more fruitful pursuits.

Also he has quite a palate. Not refined exactly, but he enjoys good food and good booze, savors it. There are moments when he's eating and he'll just sit back from the table, chewing, eyes closed and a completely satisfied smile on his face. I'd bet taste is his favorite sense, the one he'd least want to part with, at least on a selfish level. It runs to the sweet, to bourbon and pies and yams.

He said once that Joanna had asked him if he was sweet on me, and that's when he knew he must be. I'd heard that phrase before, but at that moment I thought that maybe he thought I was sweet, or at least a sweet. He certainly seems to think I taste good.

And yes, okay, that tongue of his is very talented, adept at both sucking and licking its way around my tab A and slipping into my slot B. It's long and it's strong and I swear to god it can go around corners and into places that I wouldn't expect a tongue to reach. And when those lips get in on the action …

Sorry, where was I? Oh, right. And what I said about talking me into bed? He's still talking now, even after he's gotten me there, a constant flow of how much he likes whatever I'm doing to him and what he's doing to me. Or out of bed; his favorite foreplay is to catch me in the hall, pull me aside, and while to the casual passerby it looks like we're having a perfectly normal conversation about ship business, he's actually telling me every single nasty thing he's going to do to me the second we're both off shift and it's all I can do to stay upright. He smiles, and winks, and walks away as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

See what I mean? The talking, the eating and drinking, the sex, I can't keep them separate when it comes to Dr. Leonard McCoy.

But he's an old fashioned guy, so according to him, the best part is the kissing. And I can't disagree.

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Title: The Hottest Thing in Sickbay
Rating: PG
Summary: Jim likes observing Bones in his natural habitat.
Length: 500 words

And then there are the away missions when Jim really isn't that hurt, but others might be, and Bones sits him down on a biobed and says, "Don't. Move." and then goes off to see to the others. Once Jim sees there's no reason to worry, he settles in with a padd.

The absolute best part of being a certified genius is that Jim can do three or four things at once and actually pay attention to all of them. So while he's sitting there waiting for some dermal regenerator to finish its business or Bones to decide that no, he doesn't have a concussion or any weird allergic reactions to shit he shouldn't have been handling in the first place what is your fucking PROBLEM with keeping your hands to YOURSELF, Jim? (his smart answer to that is understood and unspoken in his smirk) he starts his report to Starfleet while the events are fresh in his mind and has a real-time chat with Spock that's part debrief, part catch up on whatever was happening onboard ship, part continuation of their chess match, part discussion of where Sulu should take them next.

And while all that is going on, he still has a train of thought free to devote to watching and listening as Bones does his work. Seeing him work so well with Chapel makes Jim just the tiniest bit jealous, the way Bones is sometimes about Spock—reminded that as much as they're pretty much it for each other, it could have gone in other directions. Not that Janice or Nyota would have been happy with that outcome here and now, but it's probably happening in some other, parallel universe. Anyway seeing Bones being hot with someone else makes Jim feel lucky, and he likes being lucky.

But mostly it's listening to him spew forth all that medical mumbo jumbo or calm down already-scared ensigns who managed to keep it together for Jim until he could get them to sickbay. The Enterprise crew don't have doctor anxiety—they see Bones and know that things are probably going to be okay, because he's the best. And that makes Jim feel lucky, too.

After everyone else has been taken care of—M'Benga has come on shift, Jan has come by to pick up both her girlfriend and Jim's padd, and Spock is satisfied with a debriefing sometime during gamma shift—Bones will wander over to Jim's biobed, take a few more readings, and make some grunt of satisfaction. "All right you, twenty-four hours of bedrest. And that's an order." Bones has a thing about those orders, delights in knowing that he's the only one who really can order Jim to do anything, and Jim lets him because it's damned adorable.

He raises an eyebrow. "You gonna join me in that bed, Bones?"

Bones gets that tiny smile, the one where he doesn't want to smile but he can't help it, which might be the awesomest smile of all, and score one for ol' Jimmy T. "As a matter of fact, yes, I believe I will."

Make that score two.

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Title: Lemon
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jim learns something new about Bones's … anatomy.
Length: 300 words

"Sweet Jesus! What was that?"

Bones poked his head up. "What was what, Jim?"

"What the—what did you just stick in me? What was that?"

Bones cocked his head, and then began to speak slowly as if to a small child. "That was my tongue, Jim. Remember, we said we were going to try this, and we took a shower and got you all clean? And replicated some lemon lube because you said it matched your hair?"

"But—but it was really long. I guess, I never expected, I mean—"

Bones pushed up on his elbows. "You never noticed that? I've been going down on you for how long?"

"Well," Jim said, "there's a lot going on, I mean, lips and teeth and you use the inside of your cheeks, man, I can't always tell what's touching what."

Bones shook his head and then he carefully started licking Jim at the base of his cock, moving up the little trail of hair, sticking his tongue out more and more as he slid up Jim's chest, until Jim swore the damn thing was a foot long when it licked up under his chin and ended in a lemon-flavored kiss.

"What woman would ever leave you?" Jim asked. "Much less ever let you out of her bed?"

Bones chuckled. "But aren't you glad she did?" he asked, sliding back down to his task.

Bones started in again before Jim could really answer, but in his mind he thought, Every damn day, Bones. Every damn day.

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Title: (I Don't Want Your) Photograph
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Party+ alcohol+camera=hilarity! Or cringing embarassment, depending on how you look at it.
Length: 400 words based on a macro by pixelmayhem



Bones is pretty sure that Jim had as much, if not more, to drink last night as he did, so he should not be sitting upright, chuckling and poking Bones's arm. There was no justice in the world.

They were docked for scheduled maintenance on the Enterprise that included the life support systems, so it was all hands ashore for at least a week. Admiral Pike and Number One happened to be at the same station, so they met up at some dive bar Pike knew of and started drinking, and then grabbed a bite, and then drank some more, and got talking to the group at the next booth who were meeting some folks at another bar, and then those people knew about a party, which is how the lot of them had ended up in some bizarre room with too many curtains and strange wallpaper because the hosts were doing some sort of "retro" late twentieth century thing, and made them all change into these amazingly loud shirts and tight pants.

And then Jim got hold of a camera—like a party like that needed to be documented but try telling that to an inebriated Jim.

So Jim sat in their bed, smirking at Bones's hangover, and scrolling through the padd where he'd downloaded the images from the night before.

"Who knew Spock could do the hustle," Jim was saying.

Bones grunted.

"Oh look, the seven-layer dip. So good."

"I'm still shocked you weren't allergic to that," Bones replied, guzzling down more electrolyte-laced water.

The next photo was of Bones in that god-awful shirt, with a lady kissing each cheek.

"Aww," Jim said. "Nyota is so affectionate when she's drunk. Is that Number One?"

Bones peered at the padd. "God, I hope so."

Jim enhanced the corner of the photo. "Who's that guy in the background?" he asked.

"I have never seen that man before in my life," Bones replied.

Just then his communicator sounded. "Kirk here."

"Captain, I am sorry to disturb you," Spock said, "but Nyota has asked me to ensure that you intend to eradicate all evidence that we attended the gathering yesterday evening."

By then Jim had scrolled to a photo of himself sitting on Pike's lap, feeding him rumaki.

"Oh," Bones said, perking up a little. "I remember taking that one."

Jim suddenly looked how Bones felt—a little green around the edges. "Uh, Spock, I couldn't agree more," Jim said. "Consider them destroyed."

Comments

[adafrog]

Loved The Hottest Thing in Sickbat, and Lemon. Thanks.

[jlh]

First: so excited people are reading on Dreamwidth!

I'm so pleased you liked the stories, thanks!