Summary: In which the good doctor is a serious sexpot. McCoy's only ever been to bed with one person. Everyone else likes to surprise him with other… accommodations. Mc/K.

a/n: This was incredibly fun to write. I think it's much needed; I feel like McCoy's taken for granted for being a prude. I thought I'd fix that. I'm also working on a Pon Farr fic featuring the good doctor as well. We need more Spones around here.

oh. and Bajoran females are often prone to uncontrollable bouts of sneezing, according to Memory Alpha.


When he thinks about it, Leonard McCoy finds it rather amusing that his ex-wife Jocelyn is the only person he's had sex in a bed with.

James Kirk certainly thought it was funny; he'd nearly spit out a mouthful of whiskey when McCoy had told him one evening. They had just finished final exams for the second semester of sophomore year at Starfleet Academy, and were celebrating by getting respectably sloshed on the roof of the architecture building, which was equipped with both a terrace and a landing pad (and they, of course, were sprawled at one of the edges of the roof nearest the launchpad; because James T Kirk was a punk, and wouldn't have it any other way). The day was slightly chilly for May, and a slight breeze sent chills up their spines every now and then. Bones, having saved up enough spare credits, had busted out the good liquor and was swigging diligently, nodding and only half-listening as Jim recounted for him one of his many sexual exploits involving aliens. This particular story involved a young freshman, a Bajoran-Terran mix named Talea; whilst Jim was relating their sexual escapades (a lot of which involved incessant sneezing), Bones was trying hard to conjure up the girl's face, but kept getting the image lost in the swirling and swimming of the stars overhead.

". . . after that, I gave up. Gave her a little pat on the cheek and sent her on her way," Jim said in summation.

Leonard, good friend that he was, attempted to sound interested. "Is that so?" Even to himself he sounded dreamy, but Jim hardly noticed.

"Yeah. Nice girl. Kinda plain, but, sneezing aside, she wasn't all that bad in bed."

While he handed Jim the bottle of whiskey for him to take a swig of, Leonard gaze upward thoughtfully.

"I've only ever done that with one person," he murmured absently.

Jim paused in taking a drink, the mouth of the bottle poised before his lips. "Huh? Done what?" He brought the whiskey up and tipped the bottle back.

Bones watched his Adam's apple work on the burning swallow, replying in the same neutral, absent tone. "Had sex- "

"Kk-!" Jim coughed, nearly spraying Leonard with amber spirits.

"- in a bed."

Still hacking, Jim looked at his best friend, eyes wide, red, and watering with pain and incredulity. When he could finally speak again, he wheezed, "What? No way! You've gotta be shittin me, old man."

Leonard regarded him shrewdly, reaching over (nearly losing his balance and falling) he snatched the bottle back from Jim, capped it, and shook it at him reproachfully.

"Firs', you watch who yer callin' 'old man', sonny. Second, don't you be spitting out my expensive, bootlegged liquor or I'll make you lick this entire launchpad. And third . . .why's that so hard ta balieve?" he slurred.

Grinning, Jim reached back, behind him to where their 24-pack of beer- real beer too, Budwiser Classics, none of that cheap Academy shit (thank god)- and popped open another can. He drank long, considering his words.

"We-ell," he set the can, now a third of the way empty, down with a metallic thud. "I dunno. I always pegged you for being kind of traditional, southern gentlemanly-ish about sex. I can't see you doing some chick up in a bathroom, or a car, or some other nasty, naughty place. Hones'ly, Bones, I figured you were just . . . vanilla." He flashed the doctor a dashing smile, the same smirk that turned most of the younger female cadets to butter in two seconds flat.

Leonard observed the smile curiously; there was a warm feeling settling in his stomach, and it didn't seem to be just due to the alcohol (although that was definitely having a hand in his overall mood).

"I am vanilla, Mr. James Tiberius Kirk," he replied gruffly and Jim snorted. "People just . . . I dunno. They like to surprise me, I guess."

"Wai-, wai-, wait, holdun," moving his beer can a little to the right, more towards Bones, Jim also pulled himself over a little, making them about six inches closer than before. Putting his hands out and behind him, Jim leaned back; he turned his head towards Leonard and let it loll like a deadweight on his right shoulder. He was angled just so the moon gave an eerie silhouette to his blonde head, gold illuminated by silvery white. His position also caused strain in his white shirt, showing off Jim's lean torso. Bones tried not to stare at the slope of his collarbone or the pinpricks that were his erect nipples, stimulated by the slight chill.

"You mean," and here Jim intoned very deliberately, careful as to only let a slight slur through, "to tell me that you've only done one girl in a bed in your entire life? How many girls have you slept with? And where else have you done it, if not a bed?"

"Christ, if I'd known we'd be playin' police interrogation, I'd have brought handcuffs."

All of a sudden, Jim's head whipped up, so fast that Leonard winced as he heard it crack in the process.

"You own handcuffs?" his friend all but squealed.

Rolling his eyes, Leonard uncapped the whiskey bottle and took another few sips. It was honey whiskey and, while it went down pretty smooth stone cold sober, it now was slick and smooth as cream soda. Which definitely said something about the extent of his inebriation. "No," he said, and Kirk's expression deflated a little, "neither have I just been with women."

Jim's eyes were now popping spasmodically. "You're shittin' me - "

"Bisexuality is just as much a proven biological fact as homosexuality," Bones cut in tersely, feeling himself go rather warm in the face. "Christ, Jim. You 'f all people shouldn' be surprised by that- "

"What d'you mean, 'me of all people - ?"

" - meaning that you may be a ladies man, but I know for a fact that you did both Gary Mitchell and the sparring TA, Spencers or whatever his name is. Not ta mention you are all hung up over that xenolinguistics professor," he shot back. "You know, the one with the pointy ears that you used to stalk in the library all the time - "

"Okay, okay," Jim sat up straight and took up his beer with one hand and made an "I surrender" motion with the other. "I get you. So where else have you done it? I'm guessing The Ex-Wife got dibs on being the one in bed experience?"

"Yeah. But not all that often. Thing is," he held up a hand so Jim, who had opened his mouth, would let him finish, "after I started my residency, I the only thing I wanted to do when I was home was sleep. Some days, I'd come in and just crash on the couch or fall asleep at the kitchen table. And Jos didn' mind so much while she was pregnant with Joanna, but after . . ."

Jim scooted an innocuous few inches closer; his mouth, that grin . . . it was so mischievous, it was practically sinful. "Yeah?" he prompted eagerly.

Leonard appraised his curious friend with a raised eyebrow. "Well, her libido kicked back into gear and she kept wanting some. I guess she figured that if she let me hit the bed, I'd just fall asleep. . . . so she'd start at me basically right when I got home. Sometimes she'd attack me in the front hallway as I was hangin' my coat or whatever. . . she jumped me in the kitchen a couple of times. We even did it on the stairs," he babbled, relieving the memories and wondering why exactly he was telling Jim all of this.

Jim laughed, and the sound danced merrily on the cool night air. "You make it sound like this was all one-sided random sex."

"Well, like I said, most of the time I was too tired for anything. Even when I was grumpy and all I wanted was to play with Joanna for a bit and then conk out, I gave in. And it wasn't bad. Kinda hot, actually. But I'm not gonna lie . . . I did a lotta it out of obligation."

Jim picked up his beer can and took another long drink. Again, Bones watched his adam's apple bob up and down, gaze slurping up the strong throat to where Jim's full, attentive lips were resting at the edge of the aluminum can, feeling his own throat constrict and go drier.

He was so distracted (and so drunk) that, when Jim finished, smacked his lips, and asked another question, Bones forgot to listen.

"Huh- What?"

"What about before that?"

"Oh," Bones murmured, blushing. Realizing that he was a) nearly trashed, and b) had just ogled his roommate and best friend, he attempted to steel himself, if futilely, tearing his eyes away just in time to miss the devilish look Jim Kirk threw his way. He stared at his feet, where they were just barely hanging off the edge of the roof. "Well, we used to do it a lot in my pick-up truck, or the bear-skin rug her daddy kept in the living room of her house- tha's where lil' Joanna was conceived, I think-"

"No, I mean with other people. Joss can't be the only one. How'd you avoid doing it in a bed with anyone but her?"

"I didn' avoid it," Bones growled crossly, "it just happened. Like, ma firs' girlfriend liked to climb on me while I sat in this big ol' armchair at my house. We went camping a lot and screwed in a sleepingbag- I got real good at it, matter o' fact. Then in college I had this RA who had a pool table in his room. I used to shoot pool and drink with him on Fridays when everyone else was out partyin'; one night I got too drunk and too frisky and ended up on the pool table- "

"Christ, Bones-" Jim sounded positively delighted.

"- and in med school- right after the divorce, actually: I was feeling pissy sorry for myself- my gross anatomy lab TA decided she wanted to be done on a dissection table-"

"Gross! No way!"

"- it was cleaned and sterilized, Jim, don't be such a puss."

"But that's so kinky!" Jim exclaimed, clearly impressed and enthused. He ran a hand through his hair, smiling up at the sky and shaking his head. "So . . . what about here?"

"Nosy little fucker, aren' ya?" Leonard grinned, narrowing his eyes. He took another sip of whiskey (Christ, he could only taste the honey now), and looked up to the sky, thinking. "Well, Jim, unlike some people, my coming to study at Starfleet means all work and no play-"

"Bull."

"Jim, I don't-"

"Don't lie, old man, there's gotta be at least one-"

Bones held up a hand, waving Jim off, who had drawn even closer in his attempt to wiggle the truth out of Bones. "Okay, okay, fine. Freshman year, I got friendly with this bartender in the villas on the edge of campus. I'd stay sippin on a beer and working. One night, I stayed after hours talking to him. We fucked- on the bar."

Jim sat in awed silence. But Bones had on addendum.

"Oh, wait. And last month Gaila came by while you weren't around. She told me she wanted to have angry hatesex and I tol' 'er you were out an' she said I'd do. She got me to do 'er on my desk."

Jim looked a little put out by that, but not angry and certainly not hurt. "Gaila?" he asked frowning. "But . . . but . . . the bro-code- "

"Gaila's an Orion, Jim. She don't have a bro-code. And she can't grasp the concep' of monogamy. Besides, you'd already tol' me you wouldn' be comin' home. I assumed you were with Cadet Campbell."

At the mention of the female cadet's name, Jim's smile returned, mouth curling. "Oh, yeah. Good times, good times."

"Anyway," and now Leonard was done, so done with the whiskey, nearly all the bottle gone, so he set it back behind him, determined not to drink anymore, "that's my spiel. So you see, it's not my fault."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "But that doesn't make you vanilla. You've got a kink. Admit it."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too, and you've been hogging the whiskey-" unexpectedly, Jim leaned forward, and Leonard jumped, putting a hand back to steady him and using the other to fend Jim away.

"It's my whiskey, and you're too drun-"

"- but I want-"

"Stop-!"

As Leonard brought his arm up to bat Jim away, Jim caught his wrist and flung it outward, corrupting Leonard's balance and making him fall backwards- but not before he grabbed a handful of Jim's white shirt, yanking him down and forward-

And the next thing Leonard knew was that he was leaning back on his elbows with James T Kirk sprawled on top of him, one hand braced on the surface next to Leonard's right ear, the other hand on his left thigh.

Above him, Jim's impossibly blue eyes had gone wide, his pretty mouth slack and Leonard could feel his hot breath on his cheek. The doctor was completely still underneath him, too drunk to know what to do, too turned on to throw Jim off, and too stunned to move for any other reason. He just looked up at Jim, whose expression had gone from childish bewilderment and was now brewing something akin to diabolical delight.

Bones almost gasped when he felt Jim's hand creep further up his thigh, applying pressure, while the thumb by Leonard's head stroked his ear. Those watery, crystalline eyes looked him up and down lasciviously, a tongue darting out to wet those full, pink lips.

Jim grinned at him; leaning close, he whispered with hot breath into Leonard's ear.

"Ever done it on a launchpad?"