It wasn't a course Bones' was required to take at the Academy, not by any stretch, but he had stumbled upon the understanding many years ago back in med school that he rather liked drawing when sketching the human form had helped him memorize the musculoskeletal system for his anatomy midterm. So, when he saw the course being offered for the Spring semester he hadn't wasted any time in signing up.
And while Bones didn't really consider himself a talented artist in any way, he felt like the few sessions he had attended so far had helped to improve his technique as well as give him a way to decompress after his shifts down in Medical; putting a freshly sharpened pencil to a clean, white swatch of sketch paper as he stood before his easel in the quiet of the art studio with the other students, letting his mind wander away to a comfortable blankness, did absolute wonders for his mood, which had become more cranky and morose than usual as of late. It had taken a bit of insightful investigation to discover that the cause of his darker temperament had nearly everything to do with one certain upbeat, boisterous captain-in-training that lived two doors down from him in the dorm rooms. Not that Jim didn't manage to exasperate the everliving hell out of him most days, but lately it seemed like something had changed. Bones had begun to feel his gaze linger on Jim a little longer than it should have, had begun to notice the small intricacies that, when grouped together, made Jim who he was- the way the talked, the way he moved, the way his eyes shone like the bluest cloudless Georgia summer sky. Bones found, in no small way, that he thought about Jim constantly, and not always in the most innocent of situations.
It was distracting as all hell. How could Bones be expected to get any damn work done when his mind was full of all the dirty thing he wanted to do to the cocky little bastard?
But because Bones had learned well enough how easily he seemed to destroy any relationship he came in contact with, he kept his hands to himself, although it nearly killed him to do it. And because the only place he was really able to clear his mind from the distraction that was James T. Kirk was the art studio, he never failed to miss a class.
Today was no different. McCoy walked into the art studio, a box of charcoal pencils tucked under one arm, sketch pad tucked under the other, and made his way over to his easel at the front of the room where a couple chairs and various sized wooden boxes were situated atop a raised platform.
The instructor wove her way between the students, speaking as she went, "Class, today we're having our first nude model of the semester joining us."
Bones continued setting up his easel, shaking his head lightly when he heard the nervous giggles of a few of his younger classmates. The naked form was nothing shocking to the doctor anymore- it was a part of his job that he hardly gave a second thought to.
The instructor gently reproached her more titillated students, "Now, now, the nude form is beautiful and natural. This is a great opportunity for you to study muscular structure and body symmetry. Please be respectful of our model and use your time wisely."
Bones brought his head up at the sound of the studio door opening and nearly asphyxiated himself on his own damn spit. Striding into the room, blue eyes shining brightly, golden hair glinting like handspun sunlight, came Jim in a white bathrobe and nothing else, a wide grin spreading across his face when he saw Bones.
McCoy's face immediately fell into a scowl, a hot flush of anger burning through him rapidly, as Jim sauntered closer. This was his time dammit, his time to be mentally free of the man who had invaded his brain so succinctly with visions of him being bent over the nearest piece of furniture with that perfect ass in the air, of him on his knees with his mouth stuffed full of Bones' cock, of him laid out over a tangled mess of sheets with a gleaming sheen of come striping his stomach and chest. Him, him, him.
Bones had tried so hard to keep this class a secret. It was the only thing that could keep him from going out of his goddamn mind with that overwhelming need for Jim shattering every last ounce of his self-control. And now here the bastard was, brushing by McCoy as he made his way to the front of the classroom. Bones reached out, grabbing Jim by the shoulder and yanking him back almost hard enough to pull him off his feet.
"What the hell are you doin' here, kid?" he demanded in a low growl.
Jim only smiled and settled his hands at the cloth belt around the bathrobe, untying it slowly. "You're not happy to see me, Bonsey?"
McCoy's frown deepened.
Jim shrugged nonchalantly. "When I heard that you were taking this class, I just knew I had to come down here and help you out. That's what friends do, right? Help each other?" His grin widened. "And since I noticed you already like lookin' at me, I thought this'd be the perfect way to give you a chance to look all you want." He winked and clapped Bones on the shoulder before making his way to the raised platform at the front of the room. McCoy's narrowed eyes never left him for a second.
Jim turned, his hands stilling on the untied belt around his waist, "Oh, and it's a good paying gig too, so first round's on me at the pub tonight."
And before Bones could give any kind of rebuke or response, Jim let the robe fall from his shoulders to puddle around his feet and stood before the class naked as a goddamn jay bird.
Two bright red blooms of color immediately flushed Bones' cheeks and he found he could absolutely not look away from the utter perfection that was Jim Kirk. Lightly tanned skin stretched across broad shoulders and over a defined chest, marked with a sprinkling of freckles, including one directly above Jim's right nipple. A faint smattering of blonde hair covered Jim's chest and followed the lean line of his torso, leading to a ridiculously sexy outie bellybutton and travelling further south to ring around the base of his cock, which was, at the moment, hanging limply but measuring an impressive length nonetheless. McCoy's mouth went dry at the sight and he shifted on his feet when he felt his pants become uncomfortably tight.
The professor instructed Jim into his first pose: reclining back in one of the wooden chairs, one arm back behind his head, the other draped across his lap, legs splayed forward with one bent at the knee. Bones' heart rate skyrocketed and he hooked a finger in his shirt collar to loosen the suddenly confining material around his neck. Jim chuckled lightly and shot another wink at him.
The instructor came to stand beside McCoy and made him jump when she spoke, so focused was he on Jim and nothing else. "Please utilize your class time wisely," she said, nodding toward Bones' blank sketch paper.
He cleared his throat loudly and fumbled for a pencil while Jim watched, seemingly unfazed by sitting naked in front of a classroom full of people. Bones tried his best to concentrate on the task at hand while desperately willing away the erection pressing against the inside of his trousers. His pencil jerked in his trembling hand as he set it to the paper causing a thin, wavering line to scrawl across the pristine surface. He frowned and cautioned a glance up at Jim.
Jim smiled brightly when Bones' gaze connected with his. His eyes fell instantly to Bones' tented pants and Bones' was delighted to see Jim's grin falter momentarily. Seemed Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky could be caught off guard a little too. But McCoy's delight was extremely short-lived and was quickly replaced with a heady rush of arousal as he watched Jim's once flaccid cock expand to a near-hard fullness as he kept his eyes trained on Bones.
Bones' had to bring his hand up to wipe at a line of drool that began leaking out of the corner of his mouth and he turned his attention back to his sketch pad. Focus, dammit, he chided himself harshly, bringing his pencil up once again. Pectoralis major, lateral deltoid, external obliques, iliac furrow… He barely caught his instructor's voice at the back of the room as he began sketching, "Now, class, it's a perfectly natural reaction. Please concentrate on your work." His breath starting coming in shorter, harsher pants and he could feel all the blood draining from his head and travelling straight down to his cock as he continued to study Jim in an effort to capture him perfectly on paper. It was an unbearable torture to remain standing at his easel when Jim was only a few steps away, completely and gloriously naked.
Bones dragged his eyes up from his sketch pad, swallowing hard when he saw that Jim was fully erect, his cock straining up toward his stomach. His chest was flushed and heaving slightly and his eyes, those damnable ocean-blue eyes, were locked on Bones'. The pink tip of Jim's tongue suddenly darted out, running a shiny path along his bottom lip and McCoy was absolutely, irrefutably undone. Dammit, Jim. His pencil clattered to the floor, forgotten, as he strode the few steps to the front of the room, a static loop of him, him, him playing incessantly in his mind.
Jim's eyebrows shot up as Bones advanced toward him like a predator descending on its prey and he let out a surprised noise when Bones reached forward and hauled him up roughly. McCoy pulled Jim up against him, his clothed erection pressing against Jim's naked stomach and wound his fingers through Jim's hair like he'd wanted to on more occasions than he could even begin to count. He tugged Jim's head back and smashed their lips together in an urgent and wild kiss, groaning low in this throat when he felt Jim's mouth open under the probing insistence of his tongue. Jim's hands found the back of his shirt, fisting into the material as Bones continued to assault his mouth.
Bones could hear the professor shouting something behind him, but couldn't be bothered to care. How could he, after enduring months and months of the torture of not touching Jim in any way? He knew he had warned himself not to get involved with Jim, had forced himself to stay away, but he just didn't have the strength anymore to fight against the feelings he'd had since the day he'd met Jim on the transport ship in Iowa.
Jim suddenly pulled back from McCoy, fighting for breath, his lips puffy and kiss-bruised, and looked up him, eyes shining mischievously. "What took you so long?" he asked with a cocky grin.
Bones' wasn't even given a chance to reply as his instructor, infuriated with the display, advanced toward them, shouting, "This is a serious art studio and should be treated as such! Dr. McCoy you are disenrolled from this class immediately!"
Bones only grinned, scooping up Jim's bathrobe from the floor and grabbing him by the hand. The smile Jim returned was nearly blinding as he tugged Bones out of the classroom with a loud chuckle.