Between Two Points
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Acknowledgements:A huge thank you my beta readers Emma, Joell, and Shelly for cleaning up my work and letting me bounce ideas off you ladies. You are wonderful and amazing and I appreciate everything you've done!
It all started because Jim wanted to go to the club at the Andromeda Space Hub. He had told McCoy that it would be good for the crew to let off some steam, having been a month into their five year mission.
"You mean," McCoy replied back in a surly tone as he scanned Jim's vitals. "It would be good for you to let off some steam."
He watched as his friend and captain rolled his brilliant blue eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Bones," Jim whined, slumping his shoulders. "Even you need to let loose."
"I don't need to do anything," McCoy snapped. "Especially if it's something that your idea!"
"I have great ideas," Jim said before yelping as a hypospray kissed his neck. "Jesus! Warn me next time."
McCoy snorted. "Infant," he muttered as he readied another hypospray.
"Sadist," Jim spat back.
McCoy rolled his eyes. "That is Dr. Sadist to you, kid," he said as he injected another hypospray into his friend's neck, hearing him hiss in pain. "So tell me, what great ideas have you had that didn't end in disaster?"
"That time we went bar hopping in North Beach after finals."
"You almost got arrested."
"What about the time we streaked through the girl's dorm?"
"That was you, and I clearly remember that you contracted the flu because it was the middle of December."
Jim made a face and it seemed to McCoy that he was about to win this argument until he saw the young captain's face light up like a Christmas tree. "The Betazoid twins," he said with a stupid grin on his face.
McCoy arched a brow before letting out a groan. "Fine," he grunted. "That was once. Don't let it go to your head."
"Let what go to his head?" asked Christine Chapel as she came into the Medical Cube, carrying supplies in her arms for restocking. She looked at McCoy with curiosity as she set the supplies down on a corner top.
Jim beamed a the nurse. "That I had one good idea," he chirped.
"I wasn't asking you," Christine immediately snapped at the captain as soon as he finished his sentence. She shot Jim a dirty look before turning her back to the two men.
McCoy sniffled a fit of laughter, much to Jim's annoyance.
"Dick," Jim hissed.
McCoy shrugged his shoulders. "You're good to go, kid," he said, ignoring Jim's comment. "I want you back here in two weeks for another checkup, you understand?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jim said dismissively as he hopped off the BioBed, straightening his uniform. "Always a pleasure, Bones. Christine."
Christine ignored him, continuing to restock the cube. As Jim left, McCoy brought his used instruments to the corner.
"I would say ignore him, but it seems you're already doing a fine job at that," McCoy remarked as he took off his gloves and tossed them into the nearest trash compactor.
He heard her laugh. "I'm glad you think so," she replied, not looking at him as she worked. "Jim's an ass," McCoy offered, seeing the stunned looked on the nurse's face. He shrugged again. "I know he's my friend, but if I'm being honest…"
He watched Christine lean against the counter, her eyes on him, making a study of the doctor. "You know what they say about the company you keep…"
For a moment, he thought that she was insulting him until McCoy saw the grin on her face. With a chuckle, Christine went back to restocking as McCoy disposed of any biohazards on his tray.
"So," he said trying to make conversation. "Are you going out with the rest of the crew?"
"Probably." Christine turned to him with a smirk on her face. "Someone has to keep an eye on them."
It was McCoy's turn to chuckle.
"What about you?"
"I was trying to avoid it to be honest. The last time I went out with Jim, we almost got jumped by a gang of Klingons because he couldn't keep his drunk trap shut."
"Sounds like a fun Saturday night."
"Indeed," McCoy said, catching Christine's sarcasm.
Christine grabbed the rest of her supplies. "Only two more cubes to go."
McCoy nodded absently as Christine went to leave the cube, too busy making notes on his PADD.
"I'll make a deal with you," he heard her say.
McCoy looked up and turned to face his nurse as he crossed his arms over his chest. "A deal about what?"
"If you come out tonight, I'll buy you a round," Christine said. "And I'll make sure you get back to your quarters without the captain's interference."
Just as McCoy was about to decline, he remembered that Jim had drank the last of his good bourbon…and the rest of the alcohol that he had stashed in his quarters. The thought of a glass of bourbon did sound appealing, especially if Jim was preoccupied at the club – which McCoy knew he would be.
He heard Christine's fingers tapping against the supplies she had cradled in her arms and finally nodded once, then twice.
"Really?" Christine said, sounding surprised. "Well…I guess I'll see you tonight."
McCoy nodded. "I'll buy the next round."
"Sounds like a plan."
As McCoy learned in his thirty-three years, life never went according to plan, which would explain his current situation. The music that played at the club thumped in his ears, something that would normally make him feel like his head was about to explode, instead egged him on as he wraps Christine's arms around his neck, pulling her closer to him. She turns around in his arms, allowing McCoy to grip her hips as they sway to the music, letting the beat pulse through their bodies.
A little voice tells him that if someone from the ships sees them, they could be in big trouble. The voice is hushed by the alcohol coursing through his veins, casting all the logic and reason that McCoy normally had.
He lost count on the fourth shot of tequila, which he chased with a Corona Classic. He snorted as Jim dribbled tequila down the front of his shirt as Christine managed to take hers without a hitch.
She had winked mischievously at McCoy as she set the shot glass down on the bar, her eyes twinkling in the strobe light filled club, while Jim swore at the mess he was making of himself. McCoy watched as Christine laughed at Jim, grabbing the partially filled shot glass out of his hand and downing it despite the captain's protests.
Despite himself, McCoy laughed, nearly choking on his beer and gave Christine a sloppy high five as Jim whined about losing the shot and turned around to order another round.
At some point during the evening, McCoy remembered that Jim disappeared and Christine had dragged him out to the dance floor despite his protests that he couldn't dance.
In the present, her ass is grinding against his crotch sending jolts of electricity down his spine as they bodies come into closer contact. McCoy digs his fingers into the fabric of her dress, brushing his lips against her cheek and flicking his tongue at her earlobe. He can taste her skin, sweaty from dancing and drinking, and he wants more.
McCoy feels her laughter vibrate through his chest, piercing his core and arousing him. Christine tilts her face upward and shoots him a look that seemingly dares him to break protocol – both personal and professional. McCoy raises a brow in reply and smirks as he brings his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.
They break apart, both of them grinning like idiots. McCoy grabs her hand and drags her off the dance floor, her giggles egging him on as they duck into a darken corridor.
"Where are we going?" Christine laughs as she holds onto McCoy's hand.
McCoy tugs her to him, kissing her deeper this time. He feels her lips against his, savoring the sensation of a woman's lips brushing against his own, the danger and excitement...all new and unexpected, but so right. They stumble down the corridor, groping at each other and giggling into each other's mouths until McCoy finds a nook.
It's empty, it's dark, and it's far enough away that no one will come upon them in flagrante.
He pulls Christine inside, pining her against the wall. McCoy brushes his lips against her neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth, feeling Christine pressing herself up against him as a moan escapes her lips. Her hands are flush against his shirt, feeling his muscles move under the Starfleet issued material.
His lips move to her neck, nipping at the tender flesh, inciting another moan from her. McCoy kisses Christine's mouth once more, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue as one of his hands cups her breast, squeezing it through her dress.
"Jesus Christ," he hears Christine sigh as his hand left her breast, trailing down her body. McCoy chuckles, feeling his fingers as they glide up her thigh at a painful slow pace. "What do you want?" he asks hoarsely.
"I want you."
McCoy groans, hearing the desire in her voice. His fingers travel up to the edge of her underwear, where he can feel the heat of her sex permeating. "Tell me," he whispers in her ear, pulling at her underwear, inching the flimsy fabric down her thighs until it is cast aside on the club's floor. "Tell me what you want."
She only moans in reply as McCoy presses a finger against her heated core, teasing her with feather light pressure. McCoy watches Christine close her eyes in the dimly lit nook as his finger skillfully enters, expertly claiming her with his touch. She arches her back, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing as the length of his finger moves deeper.
McCoy can feel himself hardening as he watches how he provokes Christine. "Like that?"
He watches her nod, her mouth agape in pleasure. McCoy feels how his slow and deliberate movements make her wetter, especially as his finger presses down on her sweet spot. Christine tightens against him, letting out a strangled moan, probably louder than she would like.
His mouth captures hers as another one of his fingers joins the one buried deep inside of her. Hungrily, McCoy kisses Christine as his ministrations between her leg speed up. His free hand touches her breast, caressing it through the material of her dress, pinching her aroused nipple.
As his thumb brushes against her nipple, he presses against her clit, rubbing it with her own juices.
McCoy can sense Christine's orgasm building, a slow wave that gains momentum and strength. He lets out a groan as she grabs his hair, feeling the dark brown strands between her fingers. In turn, McCoy kisses her furiously, feeling his tongue dancing around her own. Christine rocks her hips against his hand, her thrusts meeting his.
McCoy grunts as Christine's insides flutter against his fingers, bringing her closer to the edge and makes his cock ache with wanting. He breaks the kiss, bringing his lips to her ear. "Sweet Jesus," he whispers, his voice raw with desire.
He rubs her clit in circles, kneading the tender flesh and bringing Christine closer to breaking. McCoy hears her moans, punctuated with the sound of her pleading.
"Tell me what you want," he demands hoarsely, as her sex tightens around his digits. "Tell me," he demands again, thrusting his fingers into her harder, bringing her closer to the brink.
"You," she whispers. "You. I want you."
McCoy watches his colleague go over the edge, her orgasm peaking and becoming helpless to his prowess. As the music pulses through the club, it drowns out her cries of pleasure allowing them to only ring in McCoy's ears as he coaxes each wave of pleasure from her body.
McCoy slows his movements, allowing Christine's orgasm to come to a satisfying end, leaving her panting. She looks at him with heavy lids before pulling him to her for another kiss. Their foreheads touch, both of them perspiring, and McCoy feels the proverbial dam breaking, washing away his inhibitions.
Christine's hands are at his zipper of his trousers, tugging the piece of metal down with swift fingers. McCoy groans as she pulls his erection out, stroking it teasingly.
She is kneading his engorged head, her thumb rubbing underneath. McCoy hisses through his teeth, feeling himself coming undone as Christine strokes the length of him, teasing him.
McCoy grabs her by the waist and hoists her up against the wall. Cupping her ass, McCoy grins as Christine wraps her legs around his waist and gives her flesh a squeeze before lowering her onto his erection.
"Fuck," he hisses as his dick brushed pass her swollen lips and into the center of her core. He hears Christine gasp, bracing her body against the wall as McCoy inches himself into her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
As soon as McCoy feels their flesh connect at the base of his erection, he knows that this will be quick. His body trembles with anticipation and nerves, since it has been a while since he slept with anyone. Or perhaps the alcohol is wearing off and he's nervous about sleeping with Christine.
"Damn it to hell," he grunts, hearing Christine's laughter.
Inside the nook and to the obliviousness of the other club goers, McCoy begins thrusting in and out of Christine, burying himself deep inside of her with pent-up need. He hears Christine's moans echoing in his eardrums, which only urges him on.
Christine meets each of his thrusts, both of them finding a rhythm that suits the urgency of the moment. McCoy moans as he drives into her, squeezing her ass as his thrusts gain momentum.
Pleasure courses through his body, heightened by the tequila's side effects. McCoy lets out a choked cry as Christine begin to shudder around him, losing herself in her second orgasm.
The sound of her moaning his name sets him off almost immediately. He feels his balls contract and a fire burning through him as he nears his own orgasm. McCoy stiffens against her and hisses through gritted teeth as he unloads himself inside of her. He closes his eyes, his vision blinded by pinpoints of light as he comes, shuddering.
The sparkling darkness recedes and McCoy finds himself back in the nook with Christine pressed against his quivering body. His forehead is resting against hers, both of them sweaty and breathing heavily.
The music is still going and they remain undiscovered.
McCoy kisses her again, tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. He wants more of Christine, consequences be damned. Given her reaction, he knows that she wants more of him too.
"Let's get out of here," he says huskily. His heart leaps as she nods in agreement.
They detangle themselves from each other in silence between hurried kisses. McCoy finds her discarded underwear near his foot and watches as she shimmies it on, grinning stupidly. Once they are both presentable, McCoy takes Christine by the hand and leads her out of the club and back to the Enterprise.
By a small mercy, the hallways are quiet because it's the gamma shift and most of the crew is still at the club. They don't run into anyone as they make their way towards McCoy's quarters and manage to sneak a kiss or two on the turbolift.
As soon as the door opens to his quarters, McCoy and Christine are pawing at each other, removing clothing as they make their way towards his bed. McCoy bumps into the doorframe as Christine pulls off his shirt and discards it on the floor, but barely notices the blunder. His lips are pressing against hers, his hands cupping her face, their skin finally touching.
They fall on the mattress in a tangle of limbs, the sounds of their moans echoing off the walls of the doctor's quarters, oblivious to the rest of the world.
In the morning, McCoy is awakened by a pair of lips pressed against his temple. He is sprawled out on his stomach, his naked body sparingly covered by the Starfleet issued sheets. Sleepily, McCoy lifts his head off the pillow and sees Christine kneeling over him with a drowsy smile on her face.
"What time is it?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep. He gets a good look at her, seeing her sex tousled hair falling over her shoulders and the dreamy look on her face.
It's the type of expression that secretly hints that one had too much sex and too little sleep.
If McCoy were a betting man, he more likely than not has the same expression all over his face.
The mattress shifts as Christine sits down, her fingers tracing their way down McCoy's bare back. "It's early," she replies, softly. "Go back to sleep."
"How early?" he asks, closing his eyes as Christine kisses his shoulder blade.
He hears her mutter, her tone filled with amusement, "Early. Gamma shift is ending."
She runs her fingers through his messy hair and he pleasantly remembers her with a fistful of it as she laid on her back with McCoy's head between her thighs, calling out his name over and over like a litany.
"I'm going to get going," she says, planting another kiss on him, this time his lips. "See you during our next shift."
McCoy watches her rise from the bed and suddenly he feels panic overwhelming him. The 'what-ifs' start flooding his mind: What if she ends up regretting what happened? What if she can't keep her mouth shut (unlikely, but still)? What if she ends up turning out to be a complete psycho?
What if she doesn't like him once the alcohol has worn off?
"We should do this again sometime," Christine says as she walks to the doorway, her shoes in hand.
McCoy raises his head, momentarily stunned. Usually this kind of thing happens to Jim…not him. He's too surly, too bitter.
He sees that Christine is waiting for his reaction. He nods in agreement. "We should," he replies.
"Good," she says, a mischievous grin on her face. "Sleep well, Leonard."
And with that she's gone and McCoy falls back onto the mattress, breathing a sigh of contentment. Until they 'do this again' as Christine had suggested, McCoy has the memories from several hours before.
He's about to close his eyes when he hears the door to his quarters opening again. For a moment he wonders (and hopes) if it's Christine again until the sound of Jim's grunts fill the other room.
McCoy rolls his eyes as he listens to Jim stumble into his quarters, still drunk from the night before.
"Bones!" he whines. "BONES!" The captain's voice booms across the living space and part of McCoy wants to finish the radiation poisoning's job. With his bare hands.
"God man, can't you go to your own quarters!" McCoy barks. He turns over and sees Jim leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking like a shit disturbing kid.
Jim grins, momentarily losing his balance. "Where did you go last night?"
"I went to bed," McCoy snaps. It's not exactly a lie…he was technically in bed.
Jim looks appalled. "You," he slurs, "went to bed?" He trips his way over to the couch under the viewport in McCoy's bedroom and lands head first on the cushions with a pleased sigh. "Party pooper."
"That," Jim says, lifting his head up, "is Captain Dumb Hick to you." He kicks off his shoes, sending one of them flying at the bookcase. "Oops."
McCoy shakes his head and drops his head back on the pillow. "One of these days, kid…"
"Ah c'mon, Bones," Jim says as he settles himself on the couch. "You love me."
The kid is right and even McCoy knows it.
"Go to bed, Jim," McCoy mumbles.
Just when McCoy thinks he will finally get some sleep, he hears Jim turn over on the couch. "Bones…why are you naked?"
"GO. TO. BED. GODDAMMIT!"