Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I own nothing interesting. All I've got is my bones, must be why I like McCoy so much.
AN: Kirk and McCoy play.
Content Warning: If you've made it this far, I think you're good.
Through A Mirror Darkly
Teris Xenite
Kirk stood watching him at the foot of the bed for a moment, seemingly considering something before he turned to the chest that McCoy was fairly certain contained the toys that Kirk had used on him so far. Selecting something that McCoy couldn't see, Kirk chuckled before turning around. The sound was enough to make McCoy nervous, after all he had no idea as to what Kirk found worthy of a chuckle. And he'd have to admit that he was still half way expecting some kind of retaliation from that comment he'd made in the mess.
Kirk turned holding up a long length of rope and a pair of ankle cuffs. He walked over to the bed and set the coiled rope and the cuffs on the bed beside McCoy. "Let's see, I believe I said I was going to tie you to my bed and fuck you until you couldn't remember why you were mad at me in the first place." He measured out a long length of rope along his forearm, and as McCoy watched formed a loop which he then secured with a knot.
He took McCoy's wrist in his hand and brought it to his lips to place a kiss on the pulse point, then with a smirk slid the loop around McCoy's wrist, resting it on the skin that his lips had just caressed. McCoy shivered as he tightened it until he could just slip a single finger underneath it. He pushed McCoy's wrist over his head, and leaving him a bit of slack so that he could adjust a hair should the position become too taxing wound the rope behind the headboard and repeated the process with the other wrist.
It was oddly enough sort of freeing to be bound, McCoy mused. He couldn't resist even if he wanted to, and that removed from him the feelings that he should be fighting this. Granted he still didn't plan on showing Kirk that he enjoyed the praise and tender touches that the man had taken to bestowing on him. The man's head was swollen enough, and McCoy had no intention of giving him any more power over him than he already had.
There was little that he could do about the physical end of his response, and even less that he could do to hide his arousal. He was after all human, and Kirk was damn skilled at making his cock stand at attention and beg. That response could easily be dismissed as a simple response to stimulus though, not an expression of a deeper appreciation of what was being done.
It was, McCoy realized, that deeper acknowledgment that Kirk was seeking. He had McCoy's body. Both of them knew that, and there was no point in trying to deny it. But if that had been all that he wanted Kirk wouldn't have taken the time to insure that McCoy enjoyed their encounters. He wouldn't take so much joy out of wringing responses from him. He would have still killed Ethan, because a man in his position couldn't afford to leave a threat to someone under their protection unchallenged. But he wouldn't have been so gentle or comforting while he was at it.
No, he wanted more than the physical. He wanted mind, body, heart and soul. In a sense he already had his soul, as he held Joanna's safety in the palm of his hands. McCoy had been around long enough to know that protection was as easily revoked as given, and though he had Kirk's word as well as the promise of legal standing he still couldn't quite rest easily on that front. As his superior officer, Kirk commanded his mind, at any point in this tour of duty Kirk could command his intellect be placed at his disposal to solve any manner of problem.
That only left him his heart. The only thing that he could deny Kirk was his love. His own integrity, as well as self interest preempted disloyalty from him. But he understood enough about Kirk's psychological make up to understand that the man didn't just want a responsive lover in bed. He wanted that little something extra that came from an affectionate bond. From what he knew, as a boy Kirk had understood his father and mother to have such a relationship. As his father was elevated to a pedestal and made an untouchable ideal by his death, Kirk would logically romanticize his father's relationship with his mother as the ideal to shoot for.
Unlike Lady Winona, McCoy had no intention of falling for the man who held his tether. His mind belonged to Kirk via Starfleet enlistment papers. His soul was sold to him in exchange for his daughter's safety and happiness. His body, traitor though it was, leapt at his every touch. But his heart, no, that remained firmly McCoy's. And he had absolutely no intention of giving that to James T. Kirk. It was a weak sort of resistance, but it was the only one open to him at this point. He would deny Kirk the affection and adoration that he so desired.
Though he'd noticed that Kirk liked an ungodly amount of sugar and cream in his coffee, he'd never admit it. He'd bring it to him black and pretend he didn't know better. As he'd noticed that Kirk seemed to prefer him in clothes that accentuated his form, when given the option, he'd chose those that were ill fitting, though it would be difficult with the wardrobe that Kirk had provided. Kirk liked him scruffy, with enough stubble to raise the slightest of rashes on his skin from where the whiskers had scraped, so he would remain clean shaven. Even though they irked him personally as well, these small rebellions were the only resistance that he had to offer.
He could deny Kirk that which a lover willingly did to please one that they admired. He'd deny him the little signs of true affection, such as dressing to please the other, remembering their preferences, and affectionate little nothings that meant very little until they weren't there. Granted, Kirk could order him to do these things, but McCoy knew enough about the man to know that if he had to order them they wouldn't mean near so much to him.
He was so caught up in his own musings and plots that he didn't notice that Kirk had finished binding his ankles and was kneeling on the bed by his shoulder. He was brought back to his current predicament by the feel of Kirk's fingers resting on his palm. "Squeeze for me?" He did so, and Kirk made a satisfied noise, this was repeated on the other hand. "Good, now anytime I touch your palms when you're tied up like this you give my fingers a squeeze ok? It's a check to make sure that the ropes aren't too tight."
Satisfied with the bonds on his hands Kirk leaned over McCoy, and he fought the urge to shiver under the intensity of the stare. "Now, I do the best I can to keep you safe when I do this. Despite that, sometimes things go wrong. If things are getting too intense or there is something that I need to pay particular attention to at that moment, but you don't necessarily need or want a full stop, call me James. You'll have my attention, I promise. If something is really wrong, like the bindings have gotten too tight and your hands or feet are going numb, or for whatever reason I've freaked you out so badly that no part of this is fun anymore, call me Tiberius. That's full instantaneous stop. Ok?"
McCoy nodded more than a little puzzled that Kirk of all people was giving him a safeword. "Now, I don't anticipate you needing either of those, but I will never punish you for using either one of them. I will, however, make you explain what the problem was. And I won't promise that we won't continue after we've talked about it, so don't think that using one of them automatically gets you out of something that you don't like. Understand?"
"I understand." McCoy tried to keep the confusion that he felt out of his voice. He must have succeeded, because Kirk merely smiled at him before lightly stroking his sides.
"Now where should I start? It's not like I've got any bad choices here. You respond so damn well to my touch, and every fucking inch of you looks good enough to eat." He paused and looked down at McCoy. "You know, I think we should make this more interesting for you." Kirk produced a length of soft flexible leather. "The sensations are so much more intense when you don't know what I'm going to do next, or where I'm going to do it."
McCoy didn't struggle as Kirk placed the leather over his eyes, and settled surprisingly soft eye pads above his eyes before knotting it behind his head. The leather was soft and while it was tied tightly it wasn't uncomfortably so. He could feel the heat emanating from Kirk's body as he leaned over his chest. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"How should I know? I'm a doctor not a mind reader." McCoy growled, only to be rewarded by Kirk's chuckle.
"Blindfold's good then." He pressed his kiss to McCoy's lips and McCoy could feel Kirk's smile with his lips twitched up as they touched his. Kirk pulled away and whistled. "Damn you look fine like this Bones. I'm going to have to remember to truss you up more often."
"I am not a turkey damn it." McCoy growled and tested his bonds.
Kirk palmed his dick and made a sound of confusion. "You mean this isn't a pop up thermometer to let me know when you're hot enough."
"Very funny." McCoy drawled, unimpressed by the poor attempt at wit. Any concern over Kirk's unusually subpar pun was driven away as suddenly warm lips caressed his. Though he normally closed his eyes when they kissed, having no other choice left him more aware of other sensations. Like the texture of Kirk's lips, and the scents that filled his nostrils were those of Kirk's aftershave and the underlying essence of the man. Somehow his scent reminded McCoy of sunshine, despite the fact that they'd been months in space.
Kirk pulled away leaving McCoy panting. "Ok, that one needed work. But give a guy a break, you're distracting as all hell."
McCoy laughed darkly at that one. "Now surely it takes more than a pretty face to distract you? Whatever would Starfleet say if they knew your head was so easily turned?"
Kirk's lips ghosted down McCoy's jaw, and laved his collarbone drawing a hiss from McCoy before replying. "They would say that I had very, very good taste." He punctuated his statement with sharp nips, which made McCoy gasp and tense. Then he soothed the ache with his tongue and then blew a stream of air over the moisture making McCoy shiver and strain in his bonds. A surprisingly warm chuckle filled the air as McCoy squirmed, and Kirk continued making him twitch by running his nails up and down McCoy's sides lightly.
"Speechless already?" Kirk sounded amused, and McCoy would have been annoyed had Kirk not picked that particular moment to fist his cock and tweak his nipple. Any reply that he might have made became a groan, as Kirk relentlessly stimulated him urging him towards higher levels of arousal. Kirk's hands and lips seemed to be everywhere at once, and as he couldn't see what was coming, he couldn't brace himself for the sensations. Bound as he was he wasn't able to move away, even as Kirk drew him towards his peak at an almost embarrassing speed.
It seemed that Kirk was applying the same intensity of focus that he employed in negotiations with rivals or during a crisis to making McCoy come apart for him. The rapid changes between what parts of McCoy's body were stimulated and how Kirk manipulated them left McCoy helpless to resist. Loud moans, quiet whimpers, and violent shuddering gasps were drawn from him with increasing frequency. Having drawn him almost to the edge, Kirk pulled back and traced circles and figure eights on McCoy's chest.
"Looks like I've got you hot enough sweetheart." He reached down and rested his hand just above McCoy's cock, chuckling softly when McCoy's hips jumped involuntarily towards his hand. "Something you want Bones?" The image of McCoy blindfolded and biting his lip weakened Kirk's resolve to make him ask for his satisfaction. His flushed cheeks along with his desperate pants, whimpers, and moans, eliminated Kirk's intention to be demanding. He'd teach McCoy to beg later. For now Kirk wanted to see him fall apart.
The hand that had been hovering over McCoy's cock closed around it, and Kirk took a moment to appreciate the very responsiveness that made McCoy so much fun to play with. The sharp intake of breath and the faint quivering of already tensed muscles stirred Kirk in a way that all the false flattery of those who followed after him were likely to spurt. McCoy made him earn every single gasp, and still would rather bite his lip till it bled rather than ask for what he wanted. Kirk could easily push him until he was insensate enough to beg, but he was enjoying the resistance too much.
There would be no doubt in his mind that when McCoy came, that Kirk had made him do so. It would not be fake, and he would never hear honeyed words from the man. He'd prefer an honest curse to a false complement any day, and McCoy had historically been one of the few that he'd met who dared call him on his bastard like tendencies. And so in an acknowledgment of what it meant to him to be able to know with certainty that the responses he drug from McCoy while he was in his bed were genuine, he decided that he'd be charitable. Just this once, it wouldn't hurt to let McCoy off without having him admit that he wanted what his body was positively screaming for.
Kirk's voice was husky and low in McCoy's ear as he whispered. "Alright, be a contrary bastard. I know you want this. You're so fucking ready to come that you're trembling. I'll let you have the first one for free, without even having to ask for it, just because I'm in the mood to be nice. Come for me McCoy. Come for me right now."
Once given permission, McCoy shuddered and sagged limply against the bed, too tired to notice as Kirk shifted and grabbed a bottle of lubricant. He quickly covered his fingers, and noticed that McCoy's attention seemed to return when he felt fingers circling at his entrance. The surprised yelp he made as Kirk slid the first digit in was swallowed by a passionate kiss. And after a quick finger fucking which had McCoy keening for him again, Kirk slicked himself liberally and proceeded to seat himself firmly within McCoy in one smooth thrust.
McCoy gasped and thrashed as much as he was able at the sudden intrusion, and the pants he gave were those of pleasure mixed with just the slightest edge of pain. "See McCoy, this is one of the benefits of sex on a regular basis. I can fuck you into incoherence without a three hour prelim session first. Isn't it great?" While he asked these questions Kirk began moving, causing McCoy to gasp and hiss. The angle of the thrust was tantalizing, and Kirk smiled while McCoy growled in frustration. At the growl Kirk shifted slightly so his next thrust hit McCoy's prostate.
Kirk noted with satisfaction that McCoy was beginning to have the signs of a second erection. His hand reached down to caress and tease the utterly responsive flesh, and he drank in all the reluctant gasps, and the hitch of breath that happened every time he twisted his fist on the upwards stroke. "Something you want McCoy?"
Still not willing to beg, the bound man growled at him. "Fucking finish this you bastard!"
"Not quite please let me come sir, but it'll do." Kirk increased the tempo of both his thrusts and his manipulation of McCoy's dick. Soon he was breathless, and spilling the results of his satisfaction deep within McCoy. A few deft movements of his fingers and McCoy had his second, more intense albeit mostly dry orgasm. He collapsed atop the man for a moment, panting and letting McCoy feel the full weight of him pressing him into the mattress. Then he rolled to the side and brought his hand to rest over McCoy's pounding heart.
"Still mad McCoy?"
"Depends, if I say yes does that mean we repeat that?"
"After a brief rest period, probably. I did promise to fuck you till you forgot why you were pissed off."
"All due respect, I'm doubting I'm going to be up for that again even with a rest. Twice a night's normally my limit, and rumors aside, I'd imagine yours too."
"You're still far too coherent Bones, I think we're going to have to test that theory." And so he began attacking McCoy's chest and neck with a renewed intensity, and continued the sustained sensual assault until McCoy asked him very nicely to remove the blindfold. Well, more like growled at Kirk that he wanted to see him. But there was a panted please tacked on there, so Kirk figured that counted as asking nicely. Having missed seeing McCoy's eyes, which were so expressive, he allowed him the concession.
Kirk's fingers untied the leather, and watched as McCoy blinked owlishly. Then he resumed the onslaught, which continued for what seemed like hours to McCoy. Finally when his limbs felt like jelly from the heightened state of arousal and the profound sense of relaxation which followed the hyper vigilance, McCoy looked up at him and panted. "What fucking medical records?" Kirk smiled, and covered the now swollen lips with his for a soft kiss.
"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking on this one Bones." Kirk kept kissing and petting McCoy as he undid the knots holding his wrists, and pulled away only briefly enough to unfasten the ankle cuffs. Kirk took McCoy's wrists in his hands and inspected them, pleased to see that the soft cotton he'd used hadn't marked McCoy's skin. He'd checked both the bindings and McCoy's circulation as they were playing, but one never knew. It was so frightfully easy to give someone rope burn when they struggled. And pleasure often brought more intense struggles than pain.
Once he'd untied McCoy Kirk walked over to the synthesizer and placed an order then headed into the bathroom. Meanwhile McCoy shifted over to his side of the bed, and tried to catch his breath. The sound of water running and the exhaustion put him into a trance and he felt himself start to drift into the happy twilight that came right before a really wonderful night's sleep. He'd barely closed his eyes when Kirk was back by his side. McCoy felt a warm wet towel wiping him clean and a cool glass pressed towards his lips.
Expecting water he quirked an eyebrow when a fruity taste greeted him. "Banana orange smoothie, just what the doctor ordered to keep you from cramping up later." He gently stroked McCoy's side as he held the glass for him to drink. "Doing alright? Not hurting anywhere? No numbness, tingling, lightheadedness?" McCoy grunted something that resembled 'I'm good', and Kirk chuckled. "Did I wear you out?"
McCoy sleepily mumbled. "Uh huh." Which made Kirk chuckle again. Then the combination of the cool air in the room, the evaporating water from his chest and chill of the smoothie made him shiver. Kirk noticed and put the empty glass on the bedside table before he lay down beside him. McCoy was too tired to resist as Kirk pulled him into his arms, and pulled the covers up around them. With a simple voice command the lights faded leaving the two in darkness. And if McCoy felt a warm sense of contentment lying in Kirk's arms as he fell asleep, he had no intention of telling a soul.
AN: Hi everyone. This chapter fought tooth and nail, I've been working on it since the last update, and I'm still not 100% satisfied with it. I won't promise that I won't revise it, but I'm hoping Kirk will come out of the corner and stop being such a whiny bitch. *Kirk glares and Teris returns it.* Didn't get to the jealousy in this chapter, cause Kirk was being a prima donna. However, I managed to coax him out of the corner long enough to write this chapter with old episodes of Hercules the Legendary Journeys. Don't be surprised if McCoy shows up in wings, they *ahem* gave Kirk ideas. Thanks for reading and as always reviews are my own personal brand of heroin, so feedback would be appreciated.
Side note: Kirk will continue to call McCoy pet names and endearments like sweetheart and baby. This comes from my experience of hanging around with gay or bi guys, who tend to call their bedmate/spouse/lover/bit of rough by the same affectionate names that the straight friends do. This has caused problems for some readers in the past with other hyper-masculine characters. Granted, Kirk is typically being a little bit of an ass, as he knows that it'd irk McCoy if he wasn't so horny he's fixing to explode. If it irks you let me know. Complaints will be taken much the same as McCoy's safeword (i.e. I won't promise I'll stop, but I'll at least listen to the complaint).
Next Chapter: McCoy resists the urge to cut a bitch. Oh jealousy, such a nasty emotion. Expect a pea green McCoy (who probably won't turn into a flying monster via a deal his mom made with Hera), an amused Kirk, a confused Vulcan (potentially), and in the words of one of the most awesome song titles ever: Let's Get Drunk and Fight.
