Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or the characters.
Beta read by: umbrellas_can on LJ
The Doctor, the Detective, and the Fairy Princess
Dr. Leonard McCoy, attending trauma physician at San Francisco General Hospital, had reserved Halloween three months in advance. He'd spoken at length and in no uncertain terms that it was imperative he not be called in. Even when rumor spread that he might have cultish involvements that made the day so important, he pressed the point because his colleagues were morons who needed to be told everything twice.
Come Halloween day, he thought he was in the clear. It was early afternoon when Joanna came bounding into the living room in her pink tutu and wiry lace fairy wings.
The universe chose that moment to screw McCoy over. His cell phone went off.
Joanna read his tightlipped expression and stopped her playful fluttering. She watched him as if his decision to answer the call were tantamount to revoking his love for her.
By the time McCoy flipped his cell phone shut, he owed the 'swear jar' a solid twenty dollars.
McCoy knew Joanna was upset, but when he explained that the hospital was down two doctors and Halloween brought a higher influx of patients to the ER, she didn't say anything. When he tried to explain further, saying that Daddy needed to go into work because a lot of people needed him, she just stared at the ground.
He called the babysitter and wasn't surprised when he couldn't get a hold of the young woman. She was a college student and Halloween night was a big campus affair.
With a heavy heart, McCoy resolved that he'd just have to bring Joanna with him. Joanna didn't cry or complain, she simply followed him out to the car and settled in the backseat, buckling herself in. Her silence reined the entire car ride, making McCoy stew in his guilt.
The patter of her feet in pink ballerina slippers was the only noise she made as they crossed the cement floor of the parking garage. When he asked if she wanted to push the elevator button, she stared straight forward, her muted gaze reflected in the silver steel doors.
The moment the doors opened on the first floor near the ER, the dam cracked and Joanna's cries spilled forth.
"No, Daddy, no!"
Joanna rushed him. Grabby hands snatched at his sweater and attempted to hold him around the waist.
McCoy stumbled awkwardly from the elevator and nearly tripped over the girl. "Joanna, I'm gonna step on you if you do that."
"You promised we'd go. You promised!"
The nurses' station had gone silent. McCoy didn't bother looking over. He was embarrassed at the scene being made and thought deserved it. He hated that he was breaking his promise. Joanna had every right to be angry. He preferred her squeaky complaints to her silence.
"Baby girl, I'm sorry. You know I want to take you."
Then came the tears. "You promised! Please, you promised!" Fat, hot tears ran trails down her blotchy cheeks.
As if by some cosmic design intent on making McCoy's life as difficult as possible, Detective James Kirk strolled off an elevator farther down the hall. For a brief moment, he hoped the man wouldn't notice him, but that blond head turned straight towards him.
McCoy set a hand on his daughter's head as Kirk approach, his attention split between the wounded whines of his little girl and the familiar strut of the detective.
Kirk wore faded jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and the same well-worn leather jacket as always. A gold badge hung from a long chain and glinted at the center of his chest. Even from such a distance, McCoy could see the blue of his piercing eyes. It was criminal.
"Bones!" Kirk called out. He started to trot, slowing down after a few steps. He stared in open interest at the doctor. It was rare to see Bones in anything but blue hospital scrubs and a white lab coat. The man's casual blue jeans and forest green sweater with the collar of a white t-shirt visible beneath were eye catching. Though sculpted arms weren't on display, the sweater had a way of highlighting the strong curve of Bones' neckline.
McCoy prayed for patience. He already had his arms full of one misbehaving princess. He didn't need another.
"Detective," McCoy greeted. Joanna pressed closer.
"Happy Halloween," Kirk said with a grin. He glanced at the nurses' station plastered with an array of cutout Halloween decorations and nodded at Chapel, a woman he would have married if he were straight.
Kirk gestured to the fluffy pink tulle attached to Bones' side. "That a fairy on your leg?"
"My daughter, actually." Joanna had stopped crying. McCoy wondered if the girl were distracted by Kirk or too embarrassed to be seen shedding tears in front of a stranger.
Kirk's smile fell. "I didn't know you had a kid."
McCoy wasn't about to get into the sordid details. His answering scowl told the detective it was none of his business.
Recovering his good cheer, even if his smile failed to reach his eyes, Kirk spoke to the little girl with a soft lilt. "Are you going trick-or-treating?"
The girl had her faced pressed against Bones' thigh. Greedy little hands clutched fistfuls of Bones' shirt. Kirk envied her. He'd been trying to soften Bones for the better part of a year. He'd clearly failed, having been unaware that the man had a kid.
With Bones' simple admission that the girl was his daughter, Kirk had fallen back to square one. Back to the first time he'd met Bones, when he'd had a bullet in his shoulder and an irrational fear of the grumpy doctor who seemed to hold him more accountable for the injury than the perp who'd fired the gun. Once he'd seen past the sexy scowl and realized Dr. McCoy's ranting was a roundabout way of telling him to be more careful, he'd been a goner.
Sadly, Bones had an annoying habit of remaining impervious to his advances. At times, he'd thought Bones just wasn't interested, but he'd caught hazel eyes checking him out more than once, which had given him hope. Now he didn't know what to think. The doctor had a kid. Never once had Bones mentioned the girl to him. It was like stamping a large 'Rejected' on his forehead. A man who couldn't be bothered to share the most basic personal information clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
Still, Kirk liked to think they were friends of a sort. He came around to the hospital often enough and never left without checking to see if Bones was on shift.
McCoy groaned when Joanna made a plaintive noise.
"You promised," she repeated, her voice congested now.
"I know, baby. I'm sorry."
Kirk pieced the situation together. "You got called in?"
"My esteemed colleagues seem to think red lights mean go and wet floor signs mean walk right over." McCoy scowled. "Two doctors are in the ER as we speak, waiting for treatment. I've a mind to tell the interns to get to them last."
"Is that what you tell them when I come in?" Kirk asked. When Bones didn't reply, he knew it to be true. No wonder it took eight hours to finally get a doctor to stitch him up.
Chapel approached and bent to Joanna's height. "Sweetie, why don't you come with me? There's a Halloween party on the second floor. We can trick or treat there."
"It's not the same," Joanna argued.
McCoy didn't know how to tell Joanna that nothing would be the same. Even if he took her door-to-door, he still couldn't fill the void her mom had left. San Francisco wasn't Atlanta, the west coast wasn't the east, and daddy wasn't mommy. It broke his heart that on top of everything, he had to pawn Joanna off to the pediatrics ward for Halloween.
"I can take her," Kirk said.
Both Chapel and McCoy threw the detective surprised looks.
Joanna turned her head, peering curiously at the tall blond man. He looked like someone in a movie and he wore a real badge. She wondered if it was made of real gold.
Suddenly under intense scrutiny, Kirk took a step back and held his hands up. "Or not," he said. "I was just offering. I'm actually headed over to my brother's place to go with him and his kid."
McCoy could only respond with a surprised, "You'd do that?"
Kirk shrugged. "Sure. I'm going anyway."
McCoy glanced to Chapel who seemed to shrug with her eyes, saying it was his call. In the end, it would be Joanna's decision. Tugging at Joanna's hands, he managed to pull them away before he crouched in front of her. "Baby girl, do you wanna trick-or-treat with Detective Kirk?"
"Jim," Kirk said.
"With Jim?" McCoy amended.
"You're the police?" Joanna said, her eyes fixed on the badge. Her gaze slipped lower in search of a gun.
"I am." Sensing the girl's fixation, Kirk tugged at his open jacket so his holster and gun were more concealed. Mirroring Bones' crouch, he came eye level with the sandy haired darling. She looked to be about eight years old. He offered his hand. She took it hesitantly, but her grip was strong. "I'm friends with your dad. He fixes me when I get hurt."
McCoy held back a remark. Kirk's tendency toward injury would have kept him business if he'd decided to start a private practice. Trusting this man with his daughter should have given him pause, but he'd come to understand that most of Jim's injuries were the result of keeping other people safe.
Smiling softly, Kirk asked, "What's your name?"
"Joanna Lynn McCoy," Joanna said with a smart nod. "I'm a fairy princess."
"Cutest fairy I've ever seen," Kirk said. When the girl tilted against her father and tried to hide herself in his arms, he wondered if it had been the wrong thing to say. He glanced at Bones, whose mirthful eyes laughed.
"She's shy," McCoy said.
Kirk found himself entranced by Bones' warm expression. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "My nephew Davy is six. How old are you?"
The question drew Joanna back out. "Seven," she declared, as if she'd won some contest. "My birthday's June eleventh."
"That makes you older than Davy. Do you want to meet him and show him how to trick or treat?"
Joanna's knee jerk response was, "I want Daddy to take me."
As attached as the girl was to her father, Kirk wondered how he'd never seen Joanna before. He concluded to his dismay that it was most likely intentional. That hurt, more so than he'd ever let on. Staying focused on the task at hand, he said, "Davy wanted his mom to take him, but she had to go on a trip. It'll still be a lot of fun."
"My mom's dead," Joanna deadpanned. It was a statement she didn't fully understand beyond the fact that she'd never see her mom again, but it was something she could say to make people listen.
McCoy held back a grimace. He was about to apologize when Kirk spoke again.
"My mom too," Kirk said. "I was your age when it happened, so my older brother took me out on Halloween instead. Sometimes we'd change costumes and go back to houses we'd already gone too."
Joanna's eyes widened. "You're not allowed to!"
With an impish grin, Kirk said, "I know. We got caught."
Joanna's eyes flickered over the dangling badge as if contemplating how a man who broke a cardinal rule of Halloween could possibly be a cop. This was the type of man who would let her eat candy out of her bag and not wait until they returned home.
"Can I ring the doorbells all by myself?"
"If you can reach it, it's all yours," Kirk promised.
Turning her father with beseeching eyes, Joanna said, "Daddy, I don't have my candy bag."
McCoy smirked and looked at Chapel. "I'm sure we can round something up."
"I'm on it," Chapel said, striding away.
McCoy looked about to speak, but paused. He contemplated the young man in front of him. "Jim, are you sure about this?"
"I wouldn't have offered otherwise."
"I don't know how long I'll be here. It could be late." The protest felt perfunctory. Of course he would accept the offer. Joanna would be miserable otherwise.
"Do you need me to take her home afterwards?"
There was a difference between accepting help and taking advantage. McCoy had been raised better than to exploit Jim's eager-to-please disposition. "No, I wouldn't ask you to do that. Just bring her back here-"
"I don't mind," Kirk said. The fact that he truly didn't mind was a testament to how pathetically enamored he'd become. Even in the face of rejection, he still wanted to help Bones.
McCoy sighed and shook his head. "Kid, you're doing me a big enough favor as it is."
"If I can call dibs on any of those fireball candies, then we're even."
Joanna made a noise of disgust. "Those are yuck."
Kirk grinned. "They're my favorite."
"You're serious?" McCoy questioned. He studied Jim again. With near weekly visits to the ER and the occasional patient interviews that revealed the detective's sober side, he'd come to know the young man pretty well. Nothing too personal, but enough to know he cared too much for others and not enough for himself.
Kirk shrugged. "It's Halloween, Bones."
Always with that damn nickname, making McCoy feel like they were closer than they were. It made it easy to accept Jim's offer.
"Daddy, please," Joanna urged.
McCoy considered it a minor miracle that Joanna was willing to go along. "If you're seriously okay with it," he conceded. He moved to the counter and rifled around for a pen and paper. He scribbled down his address and cell number, tore the sheet from the pad and handed it off. "Have her back by nine and call me when you get there. The spare key's taped under the mailbox."
"You're joking," Kirk said, giving the doctor a quizzical look. "You know that's one of the first places anyone thinks to look?"
"If you wanna get into safety protocol, how 'bout we discuss your inability to go a day without hurting yourself?"
At the threat of another lecture, Kirk backed down. "Point taken."
Joanna was eager to leave once Chapel returned with a plain white pillowcase. McCoy barely had a chance to hug her before she broke away and turned her excited attention to Jim. Watching her take Jim's hand and lead the way was a surreal moment. Unexpected, to say the least. He heard Joanna laugh and ask if she could turn on the siren.
McCoy's eyes settled on Jim's ass. Out of habit, he clenched his left hand and ran his thumb over his now bare ring finger. The feel of his wedding band had always shamed him into keeping his eyes away from other men. But the band had been gone for two years. Narrow hips moved with a cocky sway and blue jeans hugged the pert curve of…
Chapel's throat clearing finally made McCoy drop his eyes. He flushed red when he met her knowing gaze. He didn't bother to defend his lapse. No one would blame him. Detective Kirk was sex with a badge. He'd known the kid would be trouble the day they'd met. He'd had to ask the detective to repeat his name when the sight of full, sensual lips had distracted him. Jim had a mouth that could stop traffic and he never stopped using it, always prattling on, wetting the lower lip between pauses.
Shaking his head as if to clear it of every desire and longing he'd built up since meeting Jim, he turned to Chapel and asked for an update. A trauma surgeon stuck on pit duty was a travesty of epic proportions. He didn't know if it was karma or if he had a big payoff coming soon.
When McCoy turned onto his street, he cursed the streams of toilet paper littering his neighbors' yards. He groaned as his own home came into view. The maple tree by the curb fluttered with white streamers. He spotted a lone role on his rooftop. Bits and pieces fluttered from the gutter. Goddamn teenagers. The house with its white wainscoting was so typically suburban that he hated it. There wasn't a front porch, which had almost been a deal breaker for his southern heart. A small stoop fed into a brick path that ran down the center of the front lawn. On the steps, two large and lopsided jack-o-lanterns flickered with faux candlelight. His surgical skills had translated decently into pumpkin carving and the paint by numbers stencil design had turned out a rather creepy looking spider. Joanna had chosen a bucktooth Frankenstein design, stenciled by her inaccurate hand and carved by him.
McCoy pulled into his driveway and peered at the dark windows of his house. The bay window on the first floor showed a pale flickering light through the sheer curtains. The TV was on. He cut the ignition and got out.
It was edging into one o'clock. The quiet of the neighborhood had an unnerving effect, apart from the wind's whisper through the almost bare branches of the trees, there was silence. The crickets had gone with August. The October air was chilly with the promise of a predawn fog.
After receiving Jim's text that Joanna was home safe and sound, he'd felt the weight of his debt to the man. There was a looming obligation to reciprocate, to let Jim closer after he'd struggled to keep the pretty boy detective at arms' length.
Jim was trouble, the kind of trouble that had ended his marriage. As hard as he'd try to deny that he was gay, he couldn't hide from himself when men like Jim existed. Men that made him realize what true desire felt like. Men that made him recognize that something had been missing when he'd looked at his wife.
He tested the front door and found it locked. Keys in hand, he struggled to find the right one. The porch light was off, which served as a telltale sign to straggling trick-or-treaters but proved to be an annoyance. A near full moon peeked out from the clouds long enough to help.
Jim's boots were inside the entryway. He smiled, even though the sight of them filled him with dread. His failure to restrict his interactions with the detective became glaringly obvious. If Jim asked him out for a cup of coffee, he'd have to agree. And then what? How could he control the near overpowering impulse to kiss Jim's smart aleck mouth if he didn't have a patient chart between them? One minute Jim would be telling a joke and the next McCoy would haul the man across the table. Never mind who saw him, never mind whether Jim was actually interested.
He should have told Jim from day one that he was gay, that he didn't want to be friends because every time he saw the man he fantasized about bending him over.
Feeling like an intruder in his own home, McCoy shrugged out of his coat and toed off his sneakers. He made his way to the living room in time to see a gruesome scene on TV. The sound was off, or turned low. He scowled at the mounted screen, hoping Jim hadn't let Joanna watch a horror flick.
As he rounded the plush blue couch, he found the interloper of his every inappropriate thought strewn across the three cushions. Jim had his back to the room, his face hidden from view and buried against one of the couch's pillows. The white t-shirt had ridden up, putting the small of his back on display. He wanted to run his tongue over the stretch of skin.
McCoy was almost embarrassed to realize he was feeling for the ring on his finger again. He still couldn't look at another man without feeling guilty. Jim made it hard. He'd never wanted anyone so bad.
"Jim," he called, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kirk jolted around so fast he narrowly caught himself from falling over. When he spotted Bones, he laughed quietly. "Jesus, Bones. Give a man a heart attack."
McCoy quirked a wry eyebrow. "Is Joanna upstairs?"
Running a hand over his face, Kirk woke up more fully. "Yeah, she was out like a light. We must've gone to a hundred houses."
"She do okay?"
Kirk nodded. "It was fine. She's a sweet kid." He shifted over and patted the cushion next to him, inviting Bones to sit on his own couch.
McCoy glanced to the stairway through the living room's open archway. He wanted to check on Joanna, but if she was asleep then it could wait. He sat, all too aware of his proximity to Jim. Their arms brushed, so he shifted until he was at an angle, putting space between them. If he took the other end of the couch, he would have been too obvious.
"Davy's got his first crush. I think he's already picking out china patterns."
McCoy smiled. "Always knew she'd be a heartbreaker."
Kirk scanned the room as if looking for something to set his attention on. "Listen, I didn't mean to overstep myself, offering to take Joanna like that. I'm sorry if it put you in a tight spot."
"It was…" McCoy struggled for the right term. "It helped me out. Joanna's mom always took her. It was a tradition they'd started, so it was a big deal that I couldn't do it."
"I didn't know," Kirk said. Though he meant that he hadn't known about McCoy's loss, the statement served as an umbrella for everything else he didn't know about the doctor. "I'm sorry about your wife."
At the genuine compassion in blue eyes, McCoy choked on his guilt. Of course Jim hadn't known. He'd wanted it that way. And yet, here Jim was feeling bad about things he had no reason to feel bad for. He owed Jim truth.
"Ex-wife," McCoy corrected. "Joanna lived with her until the accident, 'bout six months back. I've been divorced for almost two years now."
Kirk didn't want to feel relief over the tragedy, but a knot of tension loosened inside him. "When you said she was your daughter, I thought I'd been off base. I thought I was the jackass flirting with a happily married straight guy."
"No wedding band," McCoy pointed out. He wriggled the fingers on his left hand.
"You wouldn't be the first guy I met who took his ring off at work."
"Is that what you think of me?"
"I didn't know what to think. I don't know you."
Another wave of guilt came over McCoy. In spite of himself he'd turned down every invitation for coffee and lunch. He was a coward. "It's not easy for me," he admitted. "My wife suspected the truth."
"That you're gay?" Kirk asked, needing some kind of confirmation. He's suspected from the beginning, or perhaps it had just been wishful thinking on his part. After seeing Joanna, he thought he'd made a mistake.
"Yeah," McCoy agreed, still unable to state it outright. "I couldn't lie about it, so we split. But, I'm not exactly open. I haven't…"
"You haven't been with anyone?"
"No one I'd call the next day."
Kirk nodded and relaxed against the couch. "You gonna call me?"
"You'd show up in the ER eventually," McCoy returned.
"Bones," Kirk said. He waited for the other man to look up. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Bones' mouth. He kept the kiss slow, gentle, and undemanding. In the end, he couldn't help taking a small taste with the tip of his tongue. Reluctantly, he pulled back.
Eyes closed, McCoy tried to hold onto the feel of Jim's lips. He'd been an idiot, an insecure fool who'd known on some level that Jim wasn't just interested in grabbing a beer and talking sports. In his defense, Jim had been too easygoing, too damn attractive, too everything. He couldn't date men casually. It didn't come that easy to him. But the warmth of Jim's lips was overwhelming. He could have it if he just let himself.
Tossing caution aside and smothering his self-doubt, McCoy surged forward. He threaded his fingers into blond hair and claimed the impertinent curl of Jim's lips. He was too eager, the force of their connection almost painful, but he didn't pull back. Pliant lips slanted and conformed to his.
Still too eager, McCoy set a fast pace until he remembered he wasn't some fifteen-year-old boy fumbling his way through his first kiss. He slowed down and almost pulled away in embarrassment when Jim made a grateful noise. At the press of a seeking tongue, arousal sluiced through his gut and settled in his groin.
Kirk drew back, forehead pressed against Bones as he spoke. "Spock says you've been my lesson in humility… or, it might have been modesty."
"Is Spock that guy who comes in with you all the time? Looks like he has a stick up his ass?"
Huffing a laugh, Kirk made an abortive move to kiss Bones again. "My partner," he explained.
"Why are we talking about him?" McCoy asked. He pressed a kiss to the underside of Jim's jaw.
Head tilted back, Kirk said, "I'm just saying, I've been wanting this for a long time. You kept shooting me down. Spock said it was a lesson, that I'm too cocky so I deserve to crawl through the mud this one time."
Delighting in the vibrations made when Jim talked, McCoy peppered the man's throat with kisses. "Is that why you took Joanna tonight?"
"No, that was me being nice. I'd pretty much given up hope that you were interested."
"I'm interested," McCoy said. He sat back, meeting Jim's darkened gaze with a scowl. "Everyone at the hospital is interested."
"I always feel the nurses undressing me with their eyes," Kirk said with a laugh. His ego always took a beating when he tried and failed to get McCoy attention, but he knew he wasn't completely without appeal when the nurses' station went silent at his approach and flooded with sighs at his departure.
"Wasn't just the nurses," McCoy said. The whole damn hospital brimmed with pheromones when Detective Kirk walked the halls with that perfect ass, eyes so blue they hurt to look at, and gun holstered on slim hips.
The dark baritone of Bones' voice sent shocks down Kirk's spine. He leaned in for another kiss.
It was a slow kiss with the bare touching of tongues. McCoy could taste the faint traces of cinnamon from fireball candies. Kirk relished the scratchy irritation of Bones' stubble. When it ended, they seemed to sigh the same breath.
In that moment, McCoy understood that he was ruined. He let his head fall against the back of the couch in defeat. The fact that Jim wanted him shouldn't have been a surprise, but being gay was still awkward and new. He'd tricked himself into believing that Jim just wanted to be friends and that he'd somehow misinterpreted everything. He'd imagined himself trying to kiss Jim goodnight and having the kid shove him off in disgust.
Yet here McCoy was, sitting on his living room couch, a stream of toilet paper visible outside the window, the television showing a little zombie girl picking up a trowel to stab her mother, and Jim Kirk pressed against his side.
If McCoy were less exhausted, he would have been embarrassed by the yawn that overcame him. He wanted to kiss Jim senseless and his dick was painfully hard, but he was tired. It had been a long night.
Kirk studied Bones' profile in the dim light. Shadows danced across the contours of his face as the scene changed on the TV. Half-lidded eyes were dim. "It's tough work, being a doctor."
"Tough work being a cop," McCoy returned.
Kirk gave a one-shouldered shrug. He studied the frown lines framing Bones' bowed lips. A million questions came to mind. He wanted to know everything. But this was the man who hadn't given him a first name until he'd made one up, at which point Kirk had become entirely too fond of the nickname to stop using it. Bones needed him to be patient, so he kept his questions to himself.
Head rolling to the side, McCoy stared out the window and scowled. "Fucking kids TP-ed my lawn," he grumbled.
Kirk made a choked sound.
McCoy took one look at the detective and groaned. "It was you?" he guessed.
Kirk grinned. "I caught them at it and despaired for the future of our country. I showed them how it was done." At least he'd saved the pumpkins from being smashed.
"Only you," McCoy said. He had to laugh when he imagined Jim out on the lawn instructing hoodlums how to properly throw rolls of toilet paper so it caught the highest limbs. "You can be the one to clean it up."
Entranced by the small smile on Bones' lips, Kirk's flushed with desire. "That's the nice thing about being a senior detective. I have an intern willing to do anything." He slid over and straddled Bones' thighs.
McCoy watched Jim intently, wanting to memorize the slow seduction of the moment. This would be something he replayed in his head whenever he took himself in hand. "That so?" he asked, hands settling on the narrow hips.
"He's Russian. You'd like him."
McCoy hummed as Jim's lips brushed his. "How asleep is Joanna?" he asked.
"She's snoring," Kirk said. "Probably out for the night. It's a hard crash from all that sugar." He tried to keep the eagerness from his voice. He was willing to grab his coat and leave if Bones wanted to take this slow, but his fingers buzzed with the need to feel the doctor's bare skin.
Finger edging beneath the detective's shirt, McCoy said, "She gets the snoring from me, by the way."
"I can sleep through anything," Kirk assured.
"The walls are thick," McCoy reasoned, more to himself than Jim. He wanted to convince himself that having sex with Jim under the same roof as his daughter didn't make him a bad parent.
"Is that an invitation?"
"What do you think?"
Kirk smiled against Bones' mouth.
With the glow of the television showing muted screams and zombies feasting on human flesh, McCoy tore Jim's shirt off and splayed his fingers across the firm muscles of his back. Long legs spread wider, bringing their pelvises together. He dropped a hand to grip Jim's ass and squeezed his encouragement when Jim rocked forward against him. They both groaned at the sweet friction.
McCoy's hands roved the firm body in his lap. For years he'd longed for this, even as he wallowed in shame. How many nights had he woken from fitful dreams, flushed and wanting and drowning in guilt as he remembered that his wife slept beside him?
"Bones," Kirk gasped. Cupping the doctor's face, he bit the man's bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.
"Upstairs," McCoy said, practically commanding it.
While McCoy tiptoed, Jim followed with eerily silent steps. A cop thing, he guessed. He paused at Joanna's door and motioned Jim onward down the dark hallway, whispering that his room was the last door.
His daughter lay spread out on her bed, one leg atop the pink princess comforter. She wore a nightgown, but a bent fairy wing pinned beneath her told him she'd put the wings back on. Her snores carried across the room. He closed the door before moving down the hall to join Jim.
Kirk took it upon himself to turn on the lamp beside the bed. A warm glow filled the room. He clicked it again and found it had a dimmer setting.
McCoy found Jim already on the bed, kicking his pants off. He had thought himself too tired to do more than strip down to his boxers and collapse onto the bed, but he'd failed to account for how determined his dick could be. He hadn't gotten laid in months and the lithely muscled cop wearing next to nothing on his bed was a gift from god.
Realizing he was staring, McCoy looked away from the prominent bulge in Jim's dark boxer briefs. Jim gave him a knowing smile that said he knew all his secrets.
"You're trouble," McCoy said as he pulled his shirt overhead and walked closer.
Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Just let me know if you want me to grab my cuffs."
"Maybe a gag," McCoy said with a smirk.
Giving an unabashed study of the body on display, Kirk took in the sight of Bones' tone abs and broad figure. Doctors weren't supposed to have bodies heavy with muscle. It went against the laws of nature. Brains and brawn weren't supposed to combine.
Down to his boxers, McCoy glanced to the light and contemplated turning it off.
"Come here." Seated on the edge of the mattress, Kirk set his feet apart and opened his legs in invitation. He motioned for Bones to come to him.
Modesty forgotten, McCoy complied and waited for his next cue. Jim reached out and tugged at the waist of his boxers. His cock sprang free.
Kirk couldn't help but groan at the sight of the thick length, swollen and heavy. The thought of Bones' filling him made heat coil tight in his abdomen.
When Jim dipped forward, McCoy forgot how to breathe. Wet heat surrounded him. "Jim," he hissed. He set his hands on the other's head, gently guiding the man up and down. His hips canted forward, desperate to thrust deeper.
Mouth stretched wide, Kirk bobbed until the burn of overtaxed joints told him he should stop. The girth of it was too much. He let Bones' cock slip free and ran his tongue along the underside. "Need condoms and lube," he said, suddenly desperate to have Bones inside him.
Stepping out of his fallen boxers, McCoy rummaged through his nightstand. The box of condoms purchased over six months ago was unopened, a sign of his pathetic sex life.
While McCoy removed two condoms and set the lube atop the stand, Kirk wriggled out of his boxer briefs.
About to tear a packet open, McCoy paused with sudden uncertainty. How was he supposed to ask if the young man preferred to top or bottom? Was there some kind of signal between gay men? Was equal trade considered a standard courtesy? He'd bottomed once, a slow going process that had been pleasant but ultimately unsatisfying.
Suppressing a groan at his own incompetence, McCoy just came out and asked, "How exactly are we working this?" At the confusion evident in blue eyes, he added, "Who tops?" It had been easier with his other encounters, men who had whispered filth in his ear, asking to be fucked or if he wanted it himself? Seedy hookups in seedier bars. As a doctor, he should've known better.
With a patient smile, Kirk fought the urge to hug Bones. "I'm open to anything, but I usually receive." Receive was the polite vernacular. He didn't want to scare the doctor off by asking to man to fuck him into the mattress. He almost laughed at the look of relief on Bones' face.
"That works for me," McCoy said, perhaps a little too hastily.
Kirk did laugh this time, a short chuckle. "Does it now?"
Rolling his eyes, McCoy said, "It ain't funny, you infant. Leastways I know now, instead of getting a surprise push-poke halfway through." He finished slipping the condom on.
Unable to help himself, Kirk fell back to the bed and smothered his laughter against the golden brown comforter. His body convulsed with the muffled noises. When he sensed Bones' annoyance, he reached out for him. A warm hand met his.
"Sorry," Kirk said after his fit subsided. He tugged Bones to the bed.
Lube in hand, Kirk flipped the cap open. Before he could pour any onto his fingers, Bones grabbed his wrist.
Kirk handed the tube over and scooted into a comfortable position. He reclined against the pillows and let his legs fall open.
Aware that Jim was watching his every move, McCoy tried to keep his hands from shaking. He was nervous and too aroused to think straight. His saving grace was his intimate knowledge of the human body. He didn't need experience with other men to know exactly where to apply pressure and what sensations caused the most pleasure.
Kirk realized he might need a gag after all. He bit his fist to stifle a moan, surprised by the intensity of his own response. Bones had barely touched him, just a firm swipe over his entrance.
Gripping a pale inner thigh, McCoy forced Jim's leg wider. He massaged the perineum, rubbing firmly between testicles and anus. He pressed enough to stimulate the prostate gland and then swirled his finger over the puckered entrance. Jim's long, slender cock jerked as he nudged a finger inside. He stared at the darkened length as it wept a trail of precum along the crease between thigh and groin.
Breath coming in short pants, Kirk fought the aroused energy that made him want to thrash. Bones went achingly slow, fingers edging deeper with a kind of tender reverence that he hadn't expected. As the doctor's fingers dragged back out, the pressure against his prostate nearly undid him.
"Bones," he gasped. "Now, Bones."
McCoy made a shushing sound and ran his free hand up and down Jim's leg. Jim was too tight to take him without serious preparation. He scissored his fingers, working them deeper and twisting them. He applied more lube every time he added another finger until Jim's entrance dripped with it.
Chest heaving and hands fisted into the bedding, Kirk tried to hold on to some semblance of composure. "Bones, I'm not above using my gun."
"Kind of hard to imagine you're hiding it anywhere I can't see right now."
"In my car," Kirk said. He slanted a narrow-eyed look at the doctor.
"Darlin', if you're itching for me to get on with it, I'm in no state to argue," McCoy conceded. Shuffling forward on his knees, he aligned his manhood with Jim's entrance and pushed. The tiny pucker stretched, opening for him, but it wasn't enough.
Biting his lower lip, Kirk grabbed the backs of his knees and spread himself wider. His balls tightened as Bones' thickness proved more than he could handle. He felt the resistance, the intense pressure against his opening.
McCoy added more lube, drizzling it over his erection before he attempted to push harder. Little by little, the flared head of his cock sank inside the tight confines of Jim's flushed body.
Without warning, Kirk climaxed, powerless to stop himself. He arched off the bed, the jerk of his hips pushing Bones deeper into him.
McCoy had only inserted the head of his cock when Jim's length spurted its release. He stared in shock at the untouched length as it gave one last jet of pearly fluid.
More surprised than embarrassed, Kirk said, "Shit, Bones. I can't belie-"
Shoving in with a hard thrust, McCoy bent forward and silenced Jim with a kiss. While he tasted the sweet recess of Jim's mouth, he hitched slim hips higher in an effort to angle himself as deep as possible. He just wanted to sit there and feel the heat pulse around him. So fucking tight.
By the time Kirk's body had stretched around Bone's cock and the slow burn melted into a pleasant heat, his flagging erection perked to life again.
Drawing out, the friction drove McCoy right back in. He rutted with shallow thrusts, hips slapping forward as he bottomed out. He broke away from Jim's mouth, needing to concentrate on the perfection of the man's body.
Seriously wishing he had a gag, Kirk struggled to keep from making too much noise. The moans came unbidden, wrenched from his throat every time Bones struck that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. It was too much. He resorted to turning his head against the pillow and taking a mouthful of the corner, keening at the flex of Bones' abs, strong arms that held his knees apart, the feel of the man's cock driving deep.
"I'm close," McCoy said. He hunched forward, thrusts becoming harder and faster, uncontrolled.
Kirk reached down and took himself in hand, giving a jerk and twist to coax his erection to the edge. The pressure built and coiled tighter. When he felt the pulse of Bones' cock inside him, he stroked himself faster until the pressure burst. He clenched around Bones as his own cum stripped across his stomach.
The force of McCoy's orgasm was almost painful. He went still, cock jerking its release as tight heat contracted and milked him dry. He felt weak from it, his body suddenly boneless. When he couldn't hold himself upright any longer, he slipped free of Jim's abused entrance and collapsed beside him.
The sound of erratic breathing filled the room. The house suddenly felt oppressively quiet.
Kirk finally spoke. "Bathroom?" A single word was the most he could articulate.
McCoy's response was unintelligible. He flapped a hand toward the door on the far side of the room. Through the haze of his tired mind, he registered Jim's hands turning him over and stripping his condom.
In the bathroom, Kirk tossed the condom and cleaned himself up. He relished the soreness between his legs, though it would be a few days before he could annoy Spock with his habit of leaning against the edge of his desk.
Unmoving and naked as the day he was born, Bones lay atop the bedcovers. This was usually Kirk's cue to grab his clothes and make a hasty exit, but the entire night had been a culmination of something bigger than a quickie. He'd been pining after Bones for too long to just slip away.
Turning the covers down, Kirk coaxed Bones beneath them. After a moment's debate, he slid in beside the doctor. He was surprised at the strong arm that snaked out and drew him closer. Tucked against the overworked doctor's side, Kirk smoothed wayward hair from a sweaty brow. This earned him a deep hum of approval. He kissed Bones, soft at first. He welcomed a seeking tongue, twining it with his own as it slid inside his mouth. The kiss deepened, but remained slow and languid.
With a regretful sigh, Kirk pulled back. "I should go," he said, though he made no move to leave.
"Probably a good idea," McCoy agreed. It wouldn't set a good precedent for Joanna to see Jim in the morning. Nevertheless, he tightened his hold. "I could tell Joanna you slept on the couch. Say I got in later than I did and just let you sleep."
"Lies, all of it," Kirk said with a grin.
"Do you want to leave?"
Kirk detected a trace of anxiety in the question. Mind made up, he claimed Bones' shoulder as his pillow and said, "No." His lips twitched when Bones kissed the top of his head, lingering and sweet.
After a long moment of silence, McCoy said, "I can't believe you TP-ed my lawn."
Kirk buried his laugh against Bones' chest. "You should be proud. Joanna has a good arm."