Fic: Stop The Clock (1/1)
Title: Stop The Clock
Rating: R
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 278
Summary: Those hands should never have been licensed for anything but this. For blcwriter, who requested "Naughty. Stop the clock." at 1297's Naughty or Nice Meme. Spoilers for Star Trek XI (2009).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Note: Just a little bit of angsty/hopefully-sexy drivel, is all.
Stop The Clock
Those hands should never have been licensed for anything but this, Jim’s fucking sure of it.
It’s in the subtleties, the calluses against his sensitive flesh, the way they drag against his cock as that palm wraps around him, slides up and down with a friction so hot it nearly burns; the way he scissors, stretches him with the practiced patience of someone who knows, knows that time is short, and that every shuddering breath he takes as he tightens, peaks; every gasp is borrowed, waiting to be stolen away. It’s in the way the pads of those fingers brush against him until he trembles, until he clings, and it’s not hard to see in those twice-damned hazel eyes what those hands, that heart is trying to prove; the pair of them, they’ve only ever really been afraid of one thing.
He’s close, so close to so many things; and they both know that Leonard won’t be able to save him from what’s coming, won’t be able to stop the blood when it starts to flow out of him, when both their worlds go dark. So he makes certain to keep that blood racing, singing through a heart so strong, so alive in this very moment - this moment where he's still able, in which he still can.
And those hands - they can pause the universe, can stop the motherfucking clock, and when Jim finally comes, it shatters everything; time - in those infinite seconds where nothing and everything are all that’s real - doesn’t stand a chance in hell.
There’s more than one way to be saved.
Rating: R
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 278
Summary: Those hands should never have been licensed for anything but this. For blcwriter, who requested "Naughty. Stop the clock." at 1297's Naughty or Nice Meme. Spoilers for Star Trek XI (2009).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Note: Just a little bit of angsty/hopefully-sexy drivel, is all.
Stop The Clock
Those hands should never have been licensed for anything but this, Jim’s fucking sure of it.
It’s in the subtleties, the calluses against his sensitive flesh, the way they drag against his cock as that palm wraps around him, slides up and down with a friction so hot it nearly burns; the way he scissors, stretches him with the practiced patience of someone who knows, knows that time is short, and that every shuddering breath he takes as he tightens, peaks; every gasp is borrowed, waiting to be stolen away. It’s in the way the pads of those fingers brush against him until he trembles, until he clings, and it’s not hard to see in those twice-damned hazel eyes what those hands, that heart is trying to prove; the pair of them, they’ve only ever really been afraid of one thing.
He’s close, so close to so many things; and they both know that Leonard won’t be able to save him from what’s coming, won’t be able to stop the blood when it starts to flow out of him, when both their worlds go dark. So he makes certain to keep that blood racing, singing through a heart so strong, so alive in this very moment - this moment where he's still able, in which he still can.
And those hands - they can pause the universe, can stop the motherfucking clock, and when Jim finally comes, it shatters everything; time - in those infinite seconds where nothing and everything are all that’s real - doesn’t stand a chance in hell.
There’s more than one way to be saved.