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Entry tags:	fandom: star trek, fic pairing: kirk/mccoy, fiction

We Promised the World We'd Tame It [Kirk/Bones - NC-17]
So apparently I've fallen in love with Kirk/Bones - I am surprised at myself considering Kirk/Spock is like the granddaddy of slash pairings. [I still ship them but djkfhlskdj Kirk/Bones jkhdsflkjdssh!]

Title: We Promised the World We'd Tame It
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,800
Summary: So Bones maybe has a thing for Jim in the chair, or just a thing for Jim in general.
A/N: Thanks to oxymoronic for telling me I was not insane for thinking the chair was a sexy bitch and to lastling for correcting my failgrammar ♥ Title from Pioneers by Bloc Party.

Jim never fully settled into life at the Academy; yeah, he was brilliant, but he didn’t like being ordered around and his attitude apparently ‘left a lot to be desired’. This, to be honest, was probably why McCoy liked the kid so much. From the get go he’d been different, the only other one on the shuttle not in uniform, someone who’d come spur of the moment because life offered them nothing else. Not another one of those excited, bright eyed cadets who’d been waiting for this day for months.

He’d stepped off the shuttle and headed off by himself to find his room, trying to ignore the lurching of his stomach as he’d taken a long drag from his hipflask, when Kirk had come up behind him and said, jovially, “Right, so where’s our room?”

That’s pretty much when it had all started.

#

McCoy had endured a lot, having Jim as a roommate. The guy was essentially a manwhore and had taken to leaving a bra on the door handle whenever he was otherwise engaged inside. McCoy declined to ask whose bra it was exactly. There were some things he just didn’t want to know.

The nights that Jim didn’t manage to bag anyone were the worst, though, as those were the nights McCoy was most aware of him. The fact that he was sleeping on the other side of the room, close enough to hear the soft intake of breath, had him awake far longer than he would have liked to have been.

Tonight was a particular problem. Jim had gone out on the prowl, fully expecting to get lucky, because – well, why wouldn’t he? He’s James T. Kirk and pretty much everyone on campus wanted to hit that.

He’d been enjoying the solitude, relaxing with a bottle of bourbon and a medical journal from the 20th Century, when the door had slammed open and Jim had stalked in, frustration written all over his face as well as copious amounts of blood.

“Damnit, Jim, who did you piss off this time?” McCoy had asked, the worried tone of his voice belying whatever disapproval he was hoping to show.

Jim had just grunted and walked into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with a red-smeared towel and bruises slowly mottling the skin of his neck.

“Forget it, Bones,” Jim had mumbled hoarsely as he’d started forward to take the towel, “Just another stupid brawl and I didn’t even get laid.”

And that had just made him angry; Jim had such little self-regard he didn’t even care that he looked like he’d been mobbed by a hoard of angry ex-boyfriends.

“For fuck’s sake, let me help you!” He’d burst out, regretting it immediately when Jim turned to give him a questioning look, as if he was trying to decipher McCoy’s intentions. It hit him somewhere deep and twisted in his gut and he wasn’t sure why.

“I just wanna sleep, Bones,” Jim had said quietly, and fallen onto his bed with a groan, mumbling into his pillow, “Turn off the light would you?”

He’d sighed, but then walked over to the tap the light switch lightly, of course he did. It wasn’t like he was the only one who could refuse Jim Kirk anything just because they were best friends. He was just as enthralled as anyone.

#

So here he was, lying wide awake in the shaft of moonlight that spilled in through the regulation pieces-of-crap shutters and wondering why the hell he wasn’t able to ignore the soft breaths; inhale, pause, exhale.

He shifted, turning over away from the light so he was staring into the puddle of darkness surrounding Jim’s bed. The night was silent outside their room, the room he’d come home to so many times to find Jim rakishly grinning at him from where he was perched on top of the catch of the day.

The thought made a knife-sharp feeling of bitter jealousy course through him. It was too familiar for him to care much.

The steady pattern of noise hitched slightly suddenly and McCoy held his breath, feeling his heart hammering inside his chest the longer he held it in. Something, a whimper possibly, escaped Jim’s mouth and a red-hot thrill of pure desire flooded his body as he realised what Jim was doing.

Because if anyone would jerk off in the same room as his very-much-awake-best-friend it would be James Tiberius Kirk. Not that Jim knew he was awake, he wasn’t that eager. The thought went straight to his cock, Jim was jerking off less than six feet away and he could just imagine it; his eyes would be shuttered, eyelashes fanning flushed cheeks as he panted wetly into his pillow, trying to keep quiet even as the pleasure coiled deep in him.

McCoy’s hand travelled, as if of its own accord, down his body – his skin more sensitive as he became more aware of Jim’s actions. Now that he was paying more attention he could hear the wet slap and muffled gasps that seemed to resound around the room. He strained to hear more and the silence roared around him, drowning out the sounds he wanted desperately to hear.

He never thought he’d get so turn on by mere noises, but his cock seemed disinclined to agree and he grabbed it roughly through the thin cotton of his pyjama pants, grinding into his hand, biting back a moan. He thought of how Jim’s eyes, usually so piercing blue, would be glazed over and his pupils dilated, he thought of how Jim would impatiently thrust his hips up into his fist, he’d take what he wanted and he wouldn’t waste time with prolonging the meagre build-up. Jim Kirk would go straight for the rush of endorphins he’d get with his climax.

McCoy would break him of this habit, he would work his way over Jim’s body slowly, lethargically, feeling Jim shudder under him as he whined and pleaded. He panted louder than he intended to and shut his mouth quickly, freezing as he listened for anything, a sign that Jim was too caught up in himself to have heard him. The moan that found its way across the room was evidence enough and McCoy shut his eyes again, allowing himself to loosen up as he slipped his hand under the elastic on his pants, his cock already hard and leaking against his skin.

Jim was emitting broken sounding moans now; obviously he had forgotten about keeping quiet and was relying on the fact that Bones was a heavy sleeper. Something he would be doing if his mind wasn’t so caught up on Jim, and the fact that Jim had interrupted his nightcap didn’t help either.

Jim’s pace was speeding up, he could hear it across the room – the frantic rustling of the sheets as Jim kicked them down and he thought that if he looked across right now he would see Jim working his cock, his eyes squeezed shut in desperation and beads of sweat tracking their way down his temples, his chest. McCoy’s breath caught in his throat, he hadn’t even touched himself much but the images had pervaded his brain and there was no way he wasn’t gonna be thinking of this as he woke up to Jim’s bedhead and satisfaction tomorrow.

One last strangled gasp and Jim panted wetly into the air, the sound going straight to his cock and he turned on his side, away from Jim, needing release before he exploded from the build-up of pleasure and sensation gathering in his balls. The satisfied sigh from behind him was enough to send him spiralling silently off the edge, he couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t open his mouth, he bit down on the corner of his pillow, pumping wetly into his fist and finally releasing his breath in the guise of a yawn.

Jim’s breath was already low and steady and he felt guilt clamp down inside him, something that happened all too often nowadays. So he did what he always did and ignored it; he fell asleep to thoughts of Jim on top of him, whispering filthy promises into his ear.

#

He woke up in the morning with a sick feeling in his stomach and one angry Jim Kirk slamming the cupboard doors.

“Damnit!” Jim muttered under his breath, rummaging through piles of unwashed clothes which had built up over the past week.

Bones groaned and rubbed his eyes, “Time s’it?”

“Time to get up,” Jim said distractedly, “Test is in half an hour and I can’t find my fucking uniform.”

And that’s when he remembered, the Kobayashi Maru. Jim was retaking it for the third time today.

“Come on, Bones, rise and shine! You’re gonna see me beat the unbeatable today, don’t you wanna be halfway awake for that?” Jim was speaking into the mound of clothes next to his bed, bent over as he threw random socks and t-shirts behind him.

The position was not helping McCoy gather his thoughts particularly well.

Jim suddenly stood up straight, brandishing a crumpled red shirt, before stripping off his t-shirt and walking over to the bathroom, “Just gonna take a quick shower Bones, be out before you know it, unless you know – I get preoccupied,” he wiggled his eyebrows and shut the door behind him.

McCoy groaned, remembering choked off moans and needy whimpers. It was going to be a long day.

#

He should have known Jim had a plan. Jim always had a plan, except when he didn’t. But even then things still seemed to go his way. It wasn’t exactly fair but he wasn’t complaining, as long as he was always on the same track.

There was something about the way Jim handled himself in a position of authority that changed him. He was still his cocky, arrogant self of course, but people listened to him which was more than he could say for Jim’s everyday life. This time, especially, Jim seemed to have an aura of assurance around him.

“C’mon Bones, let’s show these bastards who they’re messing with,” Jim said quietly into his ear as he walked past, patting him on the shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. He tried to suppress the shiver that instinctively ran through him, to no avail, the memories of the dreams that had teased him all night were too fresh. Hot breath tickling his neck and skilled fingers digging into his back.

Jim was pacing the room, a confident ease to his steps, “Right team, let’s get started. Uhura, looking good today, new earrings? Jeanine, I like what you’ve done with your hair…”

McCoy looked on as Jim spoke to everyone, insolently or otherwise, he had to admit he was a little in awe. Jim just had an easy grace to his character, it was his charisma or some shit.

The lights dimmed suddenly and a voice spoke over the monitor, “Kobayashi Maru, starting in 3…2…1…”

He turned to get one last glance at Jim, and their eyes met, clear determination almost glowing in the other man’s, and he stared, transfixed. He had a sudden realisation that he probably would never understand all of James Kirk, and he didn’t think he wanted to. The mystery was half the fun.

Jim grinned at him suddenly and turned to the cadet piloting the ‘ship’, “keep a straight course, pilot.”

“We’re intercepting a distress signal, Captain,” Uhura said blandly, the title said with distaste.

Jim just grinned at her and turned to wink at him, “Don’t move anywhere Bones, we’re not gonna be getting any casualties from this confrontation.”

Jim’s gaze was heated, he was someone different, someone in control, who had the power to blow apart atoms with one command. McCoy shivered again, imagining Jim using that voice in bed, telling him to strip slowly, methodically. He blinked and snapped his attention back to the situation at hand, his eyes skittering away from Jim’s as he felt his cheeks flush.

His thoughts were divided between the frantic firing on the holo-screen and the way Jim’s voice overpowered everyone else’s. His job was to advise on medical issues but every time he opened his mouth to suggest the usual, to ready the sickbay, Jim just waved a hand dismissively at him and barked, “Stay where you are, Bones.”

He squirmed uncomfortably, his thoughts returning to the bedroom where he imagined Jim as he was last night, languid and horny, getting himself off. He’d order Bones to get himself off in front of him. He’d smirk at him in that smug, confident way and tell him to get on his knees, to take him deeper.

“…Bones? Bones! You listening to me?” The question startled him from his reverie, and he jumped to attention, noticing belatedly that everyone in the room was staring at him as the enemy ships loomed closer on screen.

“Sorry Jim…uh, Kirk…Captain,” He stuttered out, still feeling the hot flush of arousal over his body and not quite sure how to deal with this situation. It was the first time he’d has such an intense reaction in public; it seemed he liked the way Kirk looked sitting in that chair.

Jim raised his eyebrows meaningfully and repeated himself, “Ready the transponder for communication would you? Cadet Uhura is busy translating wavelengths.”

He nodded, and leaned over his console trying not to show how flustered he was. His uniform had been starched too much and the collar was stiff around his neck, constricting his windpipe. He pulled at it nervously, feeling the skin underneath, hot and supple.

A soft whisper behind him informed him of Jim’s proximity to him, “Bones, something wrong? You look a bit flushed.”

His voice was pure conceited, brash elegance and it made his heart thrum unsteadily as he nodded hastily, he tried to inject his voice with the usual gruff cadence, “Yeah, fine, Jim, just doing my job here.”

The lightest of touches on his hip and Jim’s hand slipped down, tracing the outer seam of his pants, “Alright, just checking up on you. I don’t want you to be…distracted in any way.”

He swallowed, the fucker knew exactly what he was doing, and he had no fucking clue what to do about it, “Jim,” it came out hoarse and Jim’s smirk grew wider, an arrogant glint in his eyes, as if he knew just how much everyone in the room wanted him. How much Bones wanted him.

The hand disappeared abruptly as Jim leaned forward next to him, pretending to look over his screen as if he was actually working, “I see you watching me Bones,” his voice was low and husky, it fell on his ears like warm honey, “Something you like about me in that chair?” Then he actually chuckled, and was gone. Bones felt his absence like a void of cold air next to him, he’d felt like a furnace all over him.

And then Jim had to go and get out the damn apple.

Even if he’d willed his brain to start working right then he couldn’t have done a thing. Which was just as well as Jim had it all worked out, the smug bastard. The lights went off, the power cut and when it surged back on everything had changed. They fired, they killed, they won and Jim caught his gaze and held it, raising an eyebrow and then winking and turning away to stare insolently at the one-way mirror.

He imagined that the faces staring unseen back were less than happy.

#

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? I beat their stupid test,” Jim grumbled from where he was slumped on one of the consol desks in the test room. The other group had been, failed and gone while Jim had been getting yelled at by several different superiors.

McCoy shrugged and just handed him his ever-present hipflask, “Have a drink.”

They were alone, the lights were dimmed and the shadows were deepening outside, everyone had gone home.

Jim snorted, but took the flask anyway; his eyes were calculating as he stared at Bones, remembering the tension from earlier. He got up slowly, feeling Bones’ eyes follow him as he walked, sauntered, over to the chair.

“How about I sit here for a bit?” Jim asked casually, splaying himself over it, his legs spread almost obscenely, his arms resting on the sides. McCoy couldn’t help but run his eyes over the length of his body, the way his uniform clung to the shape of his thighs. Jim watched him, confidence exuding from every pore, something he had no idea how Jim was managing, considering how he’d just been chewed out by every official in the building.

But he was Jim Kirk, maybe that was enough. It was for him, anyway.

“Jim,” He said, standing up and walking over to stand in front of him. He felt powerless in the face of Jim’s endless reservoir of pride; he shrugged helplessly and Jim gave him that look, the one that promised endless pleasure if only he would do what Jim said. He nodded, almost unconsciously; he swallowed down the unspoken promise and got to his knees.

“Saw you earlier, getting all flustered about me in command,” Jim whispered, but it still sounded too loud in the empty room, “Got some kink I don’t know about?”

McCoy took confidence in the way Jim’s voice was not quite steady either; it cracked slightly as McCoy settled himself between Jim’s legs, hands resting lightly on his thighs, “I think you know about it now, Jim.”

“You want me to order you?” Jim asked, voice hoarse and eyes burning with anticipation, “You want me to tell you to get closer in, to suck me?”

McCoy groaned and leaned forward to mouth against the bulge in Jim’s pants, wet heat soaking through the thin material and Jim’s gasping intake of breath was worth the nervousness shredding his insides apart. The pressure of Jim’s hands locking around the back of his head was worth whatever torment he’d put himself through the past few weeks.

“Do it Bones, you know what I want – how I like it, knew you were listening last night,” he broke off as McCoy stopped halfway through undoing Jim’s pants.

“What?” He asked, sharp, acrid embarrassment flooding his system, “You heard…me?”

Jim nodded, his tongue flicking out to lick the edge of his lips, a habit he’d had since he’d split his lip in a bar fight and had to get stitches for the first time, his lips shone wet and pink, “Yeah, fucking hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, Bones.”

The words made his cock twitch, as he rutted shamelessly into his hand, cupping his cock through his pants and watching Jim’s eyes as they followed the movement of his hand.

“What do you want?” He asked, voice barely recognisable, he was so far gone.

“Your mouth…Christ, Bones, I want your mouth,” Jim let the words fall out quickly but then regained composure, remembering how exactly they’d got here, “Bet you’re so fucking hard right now Bones, the idea that someone could walk in any minute and see me here commanding you to suck my cock.”

It was too much; he shoved Jim’s pants down and slid his hands under the elastic of Jim’s underwear, pulling until his cock sprang free. Hard and the head dripping with precome, just like he’d imagined it last night. He leant forward and was considering taking his time, showing Jim that he wasn’t the only one who could take control when Jim’s hands tightened in his hair and pulled him in closer, until he had no choice but to open his mouth and swallow around the thick length of Jim’s cock.

His stomach flipped at the way Jim was enforcing his actions, pushing and pulling in time to his rhythm. He was harder than he could remember being in a long time, this was nothing compared to what his imagination had conjured up. His mouth was so full, his throat felt raw and abused, something that managed to twist into the most pleasurable thing he’d felt for a while. Jim was muttering smut into the silence and through the roaring in his ears he caught words like, “Take it Bones,” and “God can’t believe I’m fucking your mouth.”

All he could taste, hear, smell, feel, see was Jim. Jim, whose lips were parted in an obscene ‘o’ as he let his head fall back, the line of his neck graceful and glowing with sweat. His hips bucked up frantically, almost choking Bones and he didn’t move his hands to steady Jim’s hips but took it, letting his tongue slide skilfully along the length of Jim’s cock in his mouth. This right here, seeing Jim lose the control he depended on so thoroughly, was one of the hottest things he had encountered in his life.

His head bobbed up and down between Jim’s thighs and he wondered vaguely what they would look like if someone walked in right now. A shiver ran through him again and he spared a hand to slip down his pants, cupping his cock and grinding into his hand in time to each thrust Jim made into his mouth.

Then Jim was clutching tightly at his hair, letting loose unrecognisable moans and jolting his hips up, once, twice, coming so deep down his throat he swallowed without tasting anything. Jim didn’t even stop moving, he just grabbed McCoy’s shirt, dragging him up the length of his body until he could get a hand between his legs and their faces closer together.

Bones ended up sort of perched precariously, half on Jim, half on the chair and sprawled over his lap with Jim’s hand working his cock through the fabric of his pants. He gasped wetly against Jim’s neck, well aware that they hadn’t even kissed yet and wondering somewhere deep inside for a second whether that was a sign for something. So he raised his head and for a split second their eyes met, and all he saw in those heat-wide eyes was a deep longing.

Impulsively he kissed Jim, lips meeting and parting instantly, tongues entwining and with the taste of Jim exploding on his taste buds he thrust forward once last, frantic time and felt the culmination of weeks of rising tension finally dissipate in a supernova burst of heady bliss.

Their skin was slippery slick with sweat and for a moment they just panted into each other’s mouths, one big messy heap of boneless lethargy.

Then Jim raised an eyebrow, “You’re a little cockslut, Bones, had no idea you had it in you.”

He rolled his eyes and punched Jim softly on the arm; “Like you weren’t begging for it.”

Jim smiled at him, not one of his cocky, arrogant smiles that said ‘I’m better than you and I know it’ but one that he didn’t see so often. He liked to think it said ‘nothing’s changed and nothing will, Bones, you and me against the system – just like it’s always been.'

~end.