FIC: nc-17, Funny How Smells Take You Back
Title: Funny How Smells Take You Back 1/1
nc-17, Kirk/McCoy, approx 1,000 words
Summary: Post medal ceremony, post party, Jim and Bones wake up the morning after the night before
Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.
This was in response to cards_slash 69 prompt , originally posted here
The prompt was: k/m, “Brush your teeth, your breath stinks!” please note this is un-betaed - squinting helps punctuation magically rearrange itself!
Intriguing snippet:
Also posted on Archive of our Own and The Kirk/McCoy Archive
Funny How Smells Take You Back
The first thing McCoy hears is the rumble of traffic and he feels a faint ache in his bladder. Just one more minute, he thinks, winching open an eye and taking in the t-shirt clad back next to him. It’s still pushed up under Jim’s armpits from when he last fucked him, didn’t have time to take it off.
He realises he still had one sock on and wriggles his bare foot against his ankle in a half-effort to tease it off. Doesn’t work. Rolls onto his back and kicks the bed sheet away enough to untangle his leg, reach down and remove it. He brings it up to his nose out of habit then tosses it away from him.
He can smell come, cigars, and Jim’s sweat. The air con can’t do its job - they’d left the window open after Jim had insisted Bones fuck him over the window-sill so he could take in the sight of the bridge at the same time. Glances down at the tent formed under the sheet and he rolls onto his side.
Jim’s asleep and McCoy spoons a bit closer.
Needs to get comfy, his arm’s half asleep from where he’s been lying on it. Pushes his hand under Jim’s t-shirt, traces the line of his spine down to his ass and strokes his buttocks. Jim shifts. Leans back into him. Presses his ass into McCoy’s hand.
“You asleep?” He whispers into Jim’s ear.
“Yes. But don’t stop.” He murmurs rolling his head so McCoy can nuzzle his stubble and lick his neck. Faint whiff of aftershave, cigar in his hair, that’s his fault cause that’s why they’d thrown the window open in the first place,
“I don’t smoke.” McCoy had groused.
“It’s a special occasion.” Jim said, waggling his eyebrows as he unbuttoned his uniform. “’Sides you’ll look fucking hot with it in your mouth.” He unwrapped it, kissed the tip and then shoved it into McCoy’s mouth.
Then Kirk had insisted he fucked him with while smoking his cigar. Stupid kid.
“Stop looking at yourself in the mirror!” Kirk had choked out, his arms braced on the window-sill, the traffic noise almost drowning out his grunts. “You look hot, take my word for it, just con…shit…”
That’ll be why his throat hurts…
McCoy has his hand on his own cock now, stroking gently, wants to make the most of this, not having to be anywhere, just the two of them - so good, he thinks, after all those people last night, crowding round the hero, wanting a piece of him, taking holovids of him, getting quotes, smiles out of him and Jim didn’t seem to mind, or run out of charm or energy, bouncing from one person to another.
McCoy thought they’d never get away from the passing out party. Couldn’t wait to get Jim alone in the cab, had to check the medal was still on his dress uniform after he’d mussed him up a little on the back seat.
His own face still aches from the forced smiles and he’s a little in awe of this young man he calls his friend, how he didn’t seem to run out of energy or run out of charm all night, how he bounced from one party guest to another while McCoy watched him from afar, watched as he knocked back the beer, yep - there was a whiff of that too - McCoy thinks as he reaches round Kirk’s hip to grasp his very erect cock - licks at Kirk’s earlobe and gently, easily tugs. He’s given up on his own, needs to pee too badly.
“You still asleep, sweetheart?” he purrs into Kirk’s neck, pulling him closer.
“Uh-hum…”
Kirk’s rolling and grinding the length of his body against McCoy whose hooked his leg over him, climbing closer, rubbing harder and the first, very awake gasp bears a trace of the smoked salmon he’d watched Jim sliding into his mouth at the buffet table while smoozing some admiral, while all the while Kirk had been eye-fucking McCoy, chewing open-mouthed, making even snacking look like something that should carry a warning.
McCoy chuckles - the little happy purrs might be a clue that Captain Erection is awake so McCoy climbs over him, changing the angle of his hand so he doesn’t need to let go and settles down again, face to face, rolls his tongue along Kirk’s open-mouth,
“You’re peeking.” He accuses, rubbing harder, “Might have to pay you back for lyin’ to me, saying you were asleep when you weren’t.” Kirk’s groaning, eyes still closed, hanging onto McCoy’s shoulders, his breath hot on his face, “Lying to your best friend -“ pitches his voice low, like he knows Kirk likes it, amused by how dropping a few consonants, sliding his words into the dust like this drives Jim crazy every time, “Why I oughta put you over my - “ and Kirk’s coming into his hand their mouths sliding over each other for a long while until Kirk’s boneless and breathing deep again, staring at his face.
“’mornin’, captain.” McCoy chuckles, taking his wet hand and dabbing a glob of come on Kirk’s flushed cheek.
Kirk kisses him lightly then pushes McCoy right off the edge of the bed.
“Brush your teeth, your breath stinks!” he says, leaning on his elbows, looking down at McCoy with innocent eyes.
“Good thing I need to pee, kid, or I’d show you’re sorry ass.” McCoy growls from the floor.
“I’m counting on it.” he hears the mattress grumble when Jim flops back down. “And I found your other sock.”
It floats down across the room to join the rest of their clothing. McCoy lifts himself up, and heads for the shower glancing back to see if Kirk’s coming too.
And he is - still wearing his t-shirt.
END
Don;t be shy, loving/constructive fb always welcome!
The Masterlist of all my fanfiction is here
nc-17, Kirk/McCoy, approx 1,000 words
Summary: Post medal ceremony, post party, Jim and Bones wake up the morning after the night before
Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.
This was in response to cards_slash 69 prompt , originally posted here
The prompt was: k/m, “Brush your teeth, your breath stinks!” please note this is un-betaed - squinting helps punctuation magically rearrange itself!
Intriguing snippet:
Also posted on Archive of our Own and The Kirk/McCoy Archive
Funny How Smells Take You Back
The first thing McCoy hears is the rumble of traffic and he feels a faint ache in his bladder. Just one more minute, he thinks, winching open an eye and taking in the t-shirt clad back next to him. It’s still pushed up under Jim’s armpits from when he last fucked him, didn’t have time to take it off.
He realises he still had one sock on and wriggles his bare foot against his ankle in a half-effort to tease it off. Doesn’t work. Rolls onto his back and kicks the bed sheet away enough to untangle his leg, reach down and remove it. He brings it up to his nose out of habit then tosses it away from him.
He can smell come, cigars, and Jim’s sweat. The air con can’t do its job - they’d left the window open after Jim had insisted Bones fuck him over the window-sill so he could take in the sight of the bridge at the same time. Glances down at the tent formed under the sheet and he rolls onto his side.
Jim’s asleep and McCoy spoons a bit closer.
Needs to get comfy, his arm’s half asleep from where he’s been lying on it. Pushes his hand under Jim’s t-shirt, traces the line of his spine down to his ass and strokes his buttocks. Jim shifts. Leans back into him. Presses his ass into McCoy’s hand.
“You asleep?” He whispers into Jim’s ear.
“Yes. But don’t stop.” He murmurs rolling his head so McCoy can nuzzle his stubble and lick his neck. Faint whiff of aftershave, cigar in his hair, that’s his fault cause that’s why they’d thrown the window open in the first place,
“I don’t smoke.” McCoy had groused.
“It’s a special occasion.” Jim said, waggling his eyebrows as he unbuttoned his uniform. “’Sides you’ll look fucking hot with it in your mouth.” He unwrapped it, kissed the tip and then shoved it into McCoy’s mouth.
Then Kirk had insisted he fucked him with while smoking his cigar. Stupid kid.
“Stop looking at yourself in the mirror!” Kirk had choked out, his arms braced on the window-sill, the traffic noise almost drowning out his grunts. “You look hot, take my word for it, just con…shit…”
That’ll be why his throat hurts…
McCoy has his hand on his own cock now, stroking gently, wants to make the most of this, not having to be anywhere, just the two of them - so good, he thinks, after all those people last night, crowding round the hero, wanting a piece of him, taking holovids of him, getting quotes, smiles out of him and Jim didn’t seem to mind, or run out of charm or energy, bouncing from one person to another.
McCoy thought they’d never get away from the passing out party. Couldn’t wait to get Jim alone in the cab, had to check the medal was still on his dress uniform after he’d mussed him up a little on the back seat.
His own face still aches from the forced smiles and he’s a little in awe of this young man he calls his friend, how he didn’t seem to run out of energy or run out of charm all night, how he bounced from one party guest to another while McCoy watched him from afar, watched as he knocked back the beer, yep - there was a whiff of that too - McCoy thinks as he reaches round Kirk’s hip to grasp his very erect cock - licks at Kirk’s earlobe and gently, easily tugs. He’s given up on his own, needs to pee too badly.
“You still asleep, sweetheart?” he purrs into Kirk’s neck, pulling him closer.
“Uh-hum…”
Kirk’s rolling and grinding the length of his body against McCoy whose hooked his leg over him, climbing closer, rubbing harder and the first, very awake gasp bears a trace of the smoked salmon he’d watched Jim sliding into his mouth at the buffet table while smoozing some admiral, while all the while Kirk had been eye-fucking McCoy, chewing open-mouthed, making even snacking look like something that should carry a warning.
McCoy chuckles - the little happy purrs might be a clue that Captain Erection is awake so McCoy climbs over him, changing the angle of his hand so he doesn’t need to let go and settles down again, face to face, rolls his tongue along Kirk’s open-mouth,
“You’re peeking.” He accuses, rubbing harder, “Might have to pay you back for lyin’ to me, saying you were asleep when you weren’t.” Kirk’s groaning, eyes still closed, hanging onto McCoy’s shoulders, his breath hot on his face, “Lying to your best friend -“ pitches his voice low, like he knows Kirk likes it, amused by how dropping a few consonants, sliding his words into the dust like this drives Jim crazy every time, “Why I oughta put you over my - “ and Kirk’s coming into his hand their mouths sliding over each other for a long while until Kirk’s boneless and breathing deep again, staring at his face.
“’mornin’, captain.” McCoy chuckles, taking his wet hand and dabbing a glob of come on Kirk’s flushed cheek.
Kirk kisses him lightly then pushes McCoy right off the edge of the bed.
“Brush your teeth, your breath stinks!” he says, leaning on his elbows, looking down at McCoy with innocent eyes.
“Good thing I need to pee, kid, or I’d show you’re sorry ass.” McCoy growls from the floor.
“I’m counting on it.” he hears the mattress grumble when Jim flops back down. “And I found your other sock.”
It floats down across the room to join the rest of their clothing. McCoy lifts himself up, and heads for the shower glancing back to see if Kirk’s coming too.
And he is - still wearing his t-shirt.
END
Don;t be shy, loving/constructive fb always welcome!
The Masterlist of all my fanfiction is here