A Goddamn Christmas Miracle
Title: A Goddamn Christmas Miracle
Author: therumjournals
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,330
Summary: Written for space_wrapped. This is a trequel. It follows A Very Profane Christmas (space_wrapped 2009) and Perverse Christmas Cheer (space_wrapped 2010).
Warnings: blasphemy, erotic Christmas poetry, felching, first-person, and unabashed sap
I woke up groggily to the sounds of “Winter Wonderland” blaring enthusiastically from Jim’s alarm. Cute. I grunted and rolled over, preparing to burrow down into the covers in search of some Christmas spirit.
“Bones!” Jim’s excited whisper followed me beneath the blankets. To be honest, I was somewhat surprised he was still in bed with me and not hopping around the room already like some demented bunny rabbit. Wait - wrong holiday. “Bones! It’s Christmas!” I could practically hear his grin, and it drew me to him like a chestnut to an open fire. Or something. It was too fucking early for metaphors. I turned over and opened my eyes.
“You’re awake!” I don’t know why he bothers acting surprised, when it’s his damn fault in the first place. And I’m sure I meant to say something like “hmmph” or “bah humbug” in response, but what came out instead was a soft and tender, “Morning, beautiful.”
I can't help it, okay? When I look at Jim, when he smiles at me and looks at me with love in those bright blue eyes, stupid shit like that just falls out of my mouth. It's a problem I have, flares up especially bad around holidays. I’d never admit to it, but I'm pretty sure that last Valentine's Day I used the phrase "make love." I'm getting it looked into.
Jim moved in for a kiss, and I was leaning forward to meet him halfway when I glimpsed the time displayed on the face of the chronometer, and my eyebrows shot up my forehead in shock.
“Computer, time,” I demanded, ignoring Jim’s pout as I leaned back out of kissing range.
“The time is 0900,” the computer answered cheerfully.
I glanced at Jim. He was regarding me with some curiosity, not a hint of mischief in his eyes. All the more reason to be suspicious. I scrambled out of bed and strode across the room toward my dresser.
“Bones, what are you doing?” I could feel him watching me, tracking my movements across the room. Or maybe just staring at my ass.
I yanked open the top drawer, determined to catch Jim in the act. I located a small leather pouch toward the pack, opened it, and pulled out my grandfather’s old watch - whose hands pointed happily and decisively to the 9 and 12. “Goddammit,” I muttered. Either Jim had forgotten the trick I’d pulled on him with the clocks last year, or I was in for something much, much worse.
I glanced back at the bed to find Jim looking at me, a smirk on his face and a Santa hat adorning his sleep-rumpled hair.
“Christ, Jim, where the fuck did you find a Santa hat?”
I let my feet carry me back to the bed, where Jim was lifting up the covers for me to climb in beside him.
“The question isn’t where I found this hat, Bones,” he said conversationally. “The question is, where did I find this?” He held up a book I didn’t recognize. “And the answer is, way the fuck in the back of your dresser. Now, that’s not a very nice way to show your appreciation for my Christmas present, is it?” he pouted.
I had no idea what he was going on about. Until I looked a little closer, and realized with a sinking dismay that he was holding the volume of erotic Christmas poetry that he’d given me last year. Oh hell.
Jim assumed what was probably supposed to be a seductive pose, and opened the book of poetry. I propped myself up on an elbow and let my gaze travel across his body, up his long legs, over his bare chest and through the spattering of hair that my fingers and tongue knew so well, to his sparkling blue eyes and the jaunty Santa hat perched on his head. My dick gave a jolly twitch in my pajama pants.
Jim winked at me, and started reading.
“I'll find you in the firelight, with snowflakes in your hair
Sprawled upon the hearthside rug, and I can't help but stare
You've shed your boots, your belt and coat, along with all the rest
But for a single sprig of mistletoe, upon your glist'ning chest."
So long, boner, I hardly knew ye, I thought as I rolled my eyes. Still, I made a mental note to track down a firepit and hearthside rug as soon as possible.
"I’ve forgotten every moment of the year we’ve been apart,
As I lay my gift-wrapped kisses above your trembling heart…"
"He should probably get that checked out."
“Quiet, the best part's coming up.”
Save me.
“Forget chimneys, forget reindeer, forget jolly old Saint Nick
The only present that I need comes from your throbbing-”
"Jim!"
“It’s erotic Christmas poetry, Bones!”
“It’s an abomination.”
"It's our new Christmas tradition!"
"The hell it is.”
Jim’s eyes flicked down to the crotch of my pajama pants, then back up at me with a knowing look. “Come on…I know you’re feeling it.”
“I’m feeling something,” I muttered, but it sure as hell wasn’t the prurient poetry spilling from his lips. Lips that only hours before had been wrapped decisively around my cock. Lips that still tasted faintly of chocolate and peppermint. Yeah, I was feeling something alright.
I gave in and wrapped my arms around him, pulling our bare torsos together and burying my face in his neck. He ran a hand through my hair and I lifted my face to his, and we kissed, tongues winding together, deep and needy, comfortable and sexy all at the same time. I rutted against him a little, trailed a hand down his stomach to give his cock a quick squeeze over the thin cotton. I loved easing into it like this, loved lazy morning sex in our quarters, but today I was aware of the time, knew Jim would be itching to get to the Christmas festivities so as not to let one garishly-tinseled second go by without his aggressively joyful presence.
I pulled away reluctantly. "Jim, shouldn't we get going? Didn't you tell the crew that the party starts at 9:30?"
"Hmm? Oh. Don't worry," Jim said, stretching lazily as he glanced at the clock. "It's only like 8:15 right now anyway."
The Christmas spirit descended on me just then, filling me with love and joy and peace - at least, that's the only goddamned reason I can think of that I didn't kill the smug, grinning bastard on the spot.
Jim laughed and leaned in to kiss the indignant expression off of my face, and against my better judgment, I let him. Fuck, I even kissed him back, and didn’t protest when his fingers crept around my waist and down the small of my back, dipping beneath my waistband to tease at my crack. I let a breathy, embarrassing sigh escape my lips, and Jim knew he had me. I shifted my hips to give him better access and felt him chuckle against my skin.
I’d long since recognized the benefits of elastic waistbands, and we shed our pants in seconds. He fucked me open with his fingers first, working two and then three inside me, not necessary but by no means unwelcome. I could feel his lips curled into a permanent smile, even after I’d captured them with my own. I twined a leg around his ankles and we melted into each other, close and hot.
Jim slid inside me, joyful innocence morphing into wicked mirth on his face as I let out a shameless moan.
“You like that?” Jim murmured sinfully, twisting his hips and sending sparks of pleasure bursting up my spine.
“Ohhh, fuck Jim,” I groaned, twisting up off the bed in response. I reached up to tweak a nipple and he slammed into me hard.
“Ungh, Bones…gonna fuck you right onto the naughty list.”
“Jim,” I ground out through clenched teeth, “could you maybe hold off on the…nnngh…Christmas metaphors while we’re…shit…so blatantly profaning this holiday?”
“No,” Jim panted, slowing his pace until he was barely moving in me. I huffed in frustration and tried to pull him close, but he just leaned down to murmur in my ear. “Talk Christmas to me, Bones. Tell me how you want Santa in your chimney.”
“What the fuck? Fuck, no!”
“You know you want it,” he cajoled. Fuck, I did, my cock was throbbing and I’d already been so close. He swiveled his hips and my breath hitched.
“Jim-“
“Nope.” He eased back, pulling out slowly. My asshole clenched around the tip of his cock like I was trying to hold on. Which I was. Desperately. “Come on, Bones. Tell me how you want Santa-“
“Jim Kirk, if you don’t slam your fucking Yule log up my chimney right now I will jingle your bells so hard you’ll be singing carols in a whole different register for the next twelve months.”
I’m not proud, but it worked - Jim was laughing and pushing back into me, pumping his hips and wrapping his clever fingers around my aching length. It felt so good, I could almost ignore the fact that the captain of Starfleet’s flagship was fucking me in a Santa hat.
I felt Jim’s rhythm falter, heard him make that sound in the back of his throat that meant he was about to lose it, and I pressed up against his lips. “Love you, Jim.”
“Love you, uh, fuck-“ He squeezed his eyes shut as he thrust into me again. I arched my back as a wave of bliss crashed through me, clenching around Jim as we came together like the goddamn fucking soulmates that we are.
I was riding the aftershocks of my orgasm when I felt Jim move on top of me, sliding down the sweat-slick expanse of my body. I was still wondering what he was up to as he settled between my legs and had just registered the brush of breath against the sensitive skin of my balls when I was shocked into alertness by Jim pushing his tongue into my fucked-raw asshole.
“Blessed baby Santa and all of his elves in heaven,” I murmured, and that was the last coherent thought I was able to muster as Jim went to town, slurping his own come from between my legs like it was a particularly fine eggnog, while I whimpered and shook with pleasure.
Afterwards, Jim looked up at me from between my legs, tongue darting out as he licked subconsciously at his damp lips. “What do you think, Bones? New Christmas tradition?”
“Hell yeah.”
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
*
My legs were still a little shaky as we cleaned up together in the bathroom. I grumbled at Jim for hogging the sink, but he just grinned at me in the mirror. After two years, he’d somehow gotten the impression that the hard candy coating I worked so diligently to maintain was only a cover to hide my soft, marshmallowy center from the world. Which was utter bullshit, of course.
Jim was still naked, and bouncing with excitement, when I stopped him with a hand on his wrist, told him I had something to give him. He raised an eyebrow, but waited dutifully for me to find it. As I rummaged around in the back of the closet (I’d hidden it in there somewhere), I thought back to a month ago, when I’d finally decided what to get him.
* ▲ * ▲ *
"What do you think Jim would like better, monkeys throwing snowballs or cows wearing Santa hats?" I asked Christine distractedly as I scrolled through my PADD.
"Monkeys, definitely. What are we talking about?"
"Hmm? Oh, pajama pants. Christmas present."
"What happened to the skiing wombats?"
"They were badgers, and they suffered an unfortunate accident that rendered them beyond repair." Namely, I'd ripped them off of Jim during a particularly enthusiastic tickle fight.
"Uh huh."
"Ooooh, this one is even better. Giraffes wearing scarves!"
"Yeah, sounds great."
It was great. The giraffes were each wearing, like, ten different scarves, how hilarious is - what the fuck was wrong with me?
“Is that all you’re getting him? Pajama pants?”
“Hmm?” I tore myself away from the catalogue. “No, I’m getting him something else.”
“What?”
“None of your business, that’s what.”
“Is it a holiday-themed sex toy?” Christine asked, with a glimmer in her eye. I had a small heart attack, panicking for a moment that she’d somehow found out about my previous year’s gift to Jim, before I realized that she was joking. I managed a weak chuckle and gave a small prayer of thanks that at least some of my reputation was intact - that no one would actually believe that Leonard McCoy had purchased a candy cane striped dildo for seasonally-appropriate reaming (nor would they believe that the newly-invented Enterprise holiday “Christmas in July” had been my idea…)
“I heard that Pavel’s planning this whole 12 Days of Christmas themed gift thing for Hikaru this year,” Christine shared. “Did you ever think of doing something like that for Jim?”
“No.” And even if I had, I would never, ever admit it.
“No? Come on, you know he’d love it. Eight maids a-milking? Eleven lords a-leaping?”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “Sounds like our last shore leave on Risa.” I ducked as she aimed a swat in my direction.
“So what else are you getting him, hmm?”
I leveled a look at her across the desk. “Christine, if I told you, you’d go tell Uhura, or no, worse, Pavel, and the whole ship would know about it in about three seconds flat.”
“No they wouldn’t!”
“What’s Uhura getting Spock?”
“A special collector’s edition of classic science texts, and this weird kind of underwear that’s supposedly great for Vulcan-“
I raised a hand to stop her, and gave her a pointed look. “And that is why I’m not telling you what I’m getting Jim.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Just give me a hint.”
“No.”
“Is it small?”
“I’m not playing 20 questions, either.”
“Just tell me. It’s small, right?”
“Yes.”
Christine clapped her hands and a gleeful expression lit up her features. She leaned forward, and I could see a manic twinkle in her eye. “Is it small in size, but very important in meaning?” she asked eagerly.
“What- Oh, for the love of-“ I burst, finally realizing where she was going with this line of questioning. I stood up from my chair, grabbed my PADD, and stalked away, leaving Christine (and, let’s face it, probably Pavel), to her speculation.
* ▲ * ▲ *
I made a triumphant sound as I finally found the package, stuffed in the back of the closet behind Jim’s dress uniform.
Jim tore eagerly into the package, giving a squeal of glee when he saw the new pajamas. “Bones! These monkeys are adorable.”
“I know they are.” They were comfortable, too, at least if the pair I was wearing was any indication (I’d gone with the giraffes for myself).
“But Bones…”
“What, Jim?”
“Aren’t these supposed to come with some poetry?”
“Oh, right, uhh…” I thought fast. “Merry Christmas, full of, um, cheer. Now put the damn pants on, and let’s go drink some beer.” Ha! I took a moment to feel pretty damn proud of myself for that one.
Jim looked like he was trying to hide his own surprise as he obediently pulled on the monkey pants. “I don’t think there’s gonna be beer at the Christmas party.”
“Well, excuse me if I couldn’t come up with a good rhyme for whiskey.”
“Frisky,” Jim offered with a wink. “Risky.” I pushed him toward the door before he could continue.
He stopped me with a hand to my chest right before we stepped into the hall and gave me a look.
“You got me something else, didn’t you, Bones?”
“Maybe,” I hedged.
“You did!”
I smiled and kissed him on the nose.
Yeah, I’d gotten him something else. Something small.
Small, and very important.
* ▲ * ▲ *
An hour into the crew’s Christmas celebration found me pleasantly buzzed as I observed the proceedings from the sidelines in the comfiest chair the rec room had to offer. Jim had been roaming the room, clapping people on the back, and referring to himself as “Captain Christmas” while I watched with a bemused expression and sipped a tumbler of quality bourbon that Scotty has somehow procured.
I was somewhat surprised that Jim hadn’t been falling over himself to open my gift like he did every other year. Not that I minded waiting a little bit longer - hell, my palms had been sweating in anticipation for the last three weeks, so a couple more minutes wasn’t going to hurt. Jim caught my eye from across the room and we gave each other small, sheepish smiles. I watched him glance over toward the Christmas tree, saw his expression falter as he realized that there were only two presents left unopened - a large, garishly decorated box, and beside it a small, unembellished package wrapped in simple blue paper.
Jim gravitated toward the large box, as I’d known he would. I only hesitated for a moment before standing up from my chair and ambling across the room to join him at the tree.
“Well, Jim,” I drawled, “what do you say? Want to open your gift?”
Jim shrugged, biting nervously at his lower lip. He looked almost shy, and I was reminded of a similar moment two years prior, when he’d spent most of Christmas morning avoiding me. That Christmas morning had ended with a series of mind-obliterating blowjobs, so I had pretty high hopes for this one.
“We can wait a little longer,” he said, trying to act nonchalant. I could see right through it.
“Jim, I have never seen you wait this long to open a present in your goddamned life. You feeling feverish or something?”
“No! No, I just…okay, I’ll open it.”
I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, like I could contain my frantically beating heart. My breaths were coming faster, and I was feeling a little lightheaded. Watching Jim tear into wrapping paper with that excited little-kid grin on his face was already one of my favorite sights in the universe. With the added gravity of what was in the box, my squishy marshmallow insides could hardly bear it.
When he finally got the lid of the box off, Jim frowned in confusion. “What is this?”
I peered over his shoulder. “Looks like another box.”
“Thank you, Doctor Obvious,” he shot back, giving me a look. “What’s in it?”
I shrugged. “Why don’t you unwrap it and find out?”
By the fifth consecutive wrapped box, Jim was scowling darkly, and I was trying hard not to let on how much I was enjoying his rather adorable frustration. This one was rather securely taped, and for a second I was worried that he’d say fuck it and phaser the thing.
But he finally got it open, and when he did his eyes went wide at the sight of the final box.
“Wait-“ He looked at me. “Bones.”
“Jim.”
“Bones, I…” He looked at the tiny present that remained under the tree and swallowed. “That one’s for you.”
I kept my eyes on him as I reached for the present. His eyes followed my hand as I lifted it, cradled it gently in my palm. I could feel the impatience radiating off of Jim, and I knew how much restraint it was taking him not to yank it out of my hands and tear it open himself. I plucked at the corner of the tape with a fingernail and bit back a smile.
* ▲ * ▲ *
Okay, here’s the truth. About month ago, I’d been in our quarters looking for something to read while I waited for Jim to get back from his shift. I realized I’d left my PADD in my office, so I grabbed one from Jim’s desk and started scrolling through the most recent articles he’d read. Quite frankly, they all looked either boring as shit (“The effect of friction ratios on steering outcomes in aeronautical use under reduced gravity loads”), or like they would give me nightmares for months (“Lost in the Buffer: One Officer’s Shocking Tale of Transporter Room Negligence”). Idly, I clicked through Jim’s files, thinking I’d snoop on one of his away mission reports, maybe get the details on the latest reckless stunt he’d pulled to save some cadet’s ass without telling me. Jim usually labeled his report draft files something like TheTimeSpockAlmostGotLaidonGaltek4, so when I saw one labeled JTKMP1225C, I couldn’t help but open it, curious to find out what he deemed worthy of such an official looking title.
At first I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Lines of verse that seemed to go nowhere, starting and stopping without reason. I furrowed my brow and tried to make sense of what I was reading.
“There once was a reckless boy
Whose heart had never known joy…”
There once was a reckless boy wonder
Whose booty had never been plundered…”
“What will they find when I am ripped apart?
'I love you, Doctor,' written on my heart. - ugh, morbid!”
“Bones,
I tried to write you some poetry this year, I really did, but the words all seemed too trite and cheesy for what I want to tell you. I love you - you know that - but I don’t know if you really know how much I love you. I don’t think you do know, because I barely know, because I every time I look at you, I love you more. Which is kind of crazy, since it’s been two years now, and I think my heart might fucking explode with it. God, my hands are shaking just trying to write this - how the fuck am I ever going to say this out loud to you in front of the entire crew? Maybe I should revise my plan-“
My heart thudded in my chest. I’d been thinking about it, sure, toying with the idea in my mind and then laughing it off because, well, this is me we’re talking about here, me, the bitter divorcee, scarred by- fuck, I don’t even remember anymore. All that was a universe away from what I had now, this thing that Jim and I had, where I looked forward to leaving work, where a shared meal was the highlight of my day…I couldn’t help it, my eyes skipped down the page to read the last thing on the page, a stern note he’d written to himself.
“Don’t freak out. Just get down on one knee and blabber something about how much he means to you. Tell him that you never want to spend a single Christmas without him by your side.
If he says no, then it’s his fucking loss.
He won’t say no.
I hope.”
* ▲ * ▲ *
Which is to say, I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to find as I peeled the tape off Jim’s gift and removed the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek metallic box, rounded on the corners and hinged on one side. And though I knew this had been coming, that didn’t stop a flush of heat from rushing across my skin, my surgeon’s hands shaking a little as I met Jim’s eyes.
Jim glanced down at the identical box clutched tightly in his hand, then he looked at me with a question in his eyes. The room had gone completely silent, and I could feel everyone’s eyes on us, but as far as we were concerned, we were the only two beings in the entire universe. I reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers in my own.
“Ask me, Jim.”
All of our poetry, our clever rhymes and carefully - or in my case, not-so-carefully - crafted verse were forgotten, as Jim said the only words I wanted to hear. “Bones. Will you marry me?”
I forgot all about the box I was gripping in my sweaty hand, and I pulled Jim roughly into my arms to murmur my answer in his ear. “Of course I will, darlin’.”
* ▲ * ▲ *
Uhura was the first one brave enough to penetrate the fog of romantic bliss that the two of us had descended into immediately following the proposal. We’d slid the rings onto each others’ fingers in between kisses and murmured promises, and I couldn’t seem to let go of his hand. And maybe I should have lain off the whiskey a little earlier, because my vision had become slightly blurred and I had to wipe my eyes several times before it cleared up.
We turned to Uhura as she gave a small, polite cough to get our attention. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to make sure I got a chance to congratulate you both before you sneak off back to your quarters for the rest of Christmas day,” she said with a grin.
“Hey,” Jim said, wrapping his arms around my waist and grinning back unapologetically, “can’t argue with tradition.”
“So when’re you getting’ hitched?” Scotty asked jovially, raising his glass as he joined us. “Have I ever mentioned that I love weddings?”
“Well,” I drawled, “I imagine we’ll get married on Christmas.” I glanced at Jim, wondering if I should have waited until we’d talked about it, but when I saw his face light up with a smile bright enough to melt the frostiest of snowmen, I knew I’d said the right thing.
He squeezed me so tight, I lost feeling in everything. “I always wanted to be a Christmas bride,” he sighed happily. I rolled my eyes as Jim slid a hand down to grope my ass, and his lips brushed against my ear. “Now, let’s go celebrate.”
Well now. Maybe I hadn’t lost feeling in everything.
* ▲ * ▲ * ▲ *
Continued here: Christmas for Lovesick Bastards
Author: therumjournals
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,330
Summary: Written for space_wrapped. This is a trequel. It follows A Very Profane Christmas (space_wrapped 2009) and Perverse Christmas Cheer (space_wrapped 2010).
Warnings: blasphemy, erotic Christmas poetry, felching, first-person, and unabashed sap
I woke up groggily to the sounds of “Winter Wonderland” blaring enthusiastically from Jim’s alarm. Cute. I grunted and rolled over, preparing to burrow down into the covers in search of some Christmas spirit.
“Bones!” Jim’s excited whisper followed me beneath the blankets. To be honest, I was somewhat surprised he was still in bed with me and not hopping around the room already like some demented bunny rabbit. Wait - wrong holiday. “Bones! It’s Christmas!” I could practically hear his grin, and it drew me to him like a chestnut to an open fire. Or something. It was too fucking early for metaphors. I turned over and opened my eyes.
“You’re awake!” I don’t know why he bothers acting surprised, when it’s his damn fault in the first place. And I’m sure I meant to say something like “hmmph” or “bah humbug” in response, but what came out instead was a soft and tender, “Morning, beautiful.”
I can't help it, okay? When I look at Jim, when he smiles at me and looks at me with love in those bright blue eyes, stupid shit like that just falls out of my mouth. It's a problem I have, flares up especially bad around holidays. I’d never admit to it, but I'm pretty sure that last Valentine's Day I used the phrase "make love." I'm getting it looked into.
Jim moved in for a kiss, and I was leaning forward to meet him halfway when I glimpsed the time displayed on the face of the chronometer, and my eyebrows shot up my forehead in shock.
“Computer, time,” I demanded, ignoring Jim’s pout as I leaned back out of kissing range.
“The time is 0900,” the computer answered cheerfully.
I glanced at Jim. He was regarding me with some curiosity, not a hint of mischief in his eyes. All the more reason to be suspicious. I scrambled out of bed and strode across the room toward my dresser.
“Bones, what are you doing?” I could feel him watching me, tracking my movements across the room. Or maybe just staring at my ass.
I yanked open the top drawer, determined to catch Jim in the act. I located a small leather pouch toward the pack, opened it, and pulled out my grandfather’s old watch - whose hands pointed happily and decisively to the 9 and 12. “Goddammit,” I muttered. Either Jim had forgotten the trick I’d pulled on him with the clocks last year, or I was in for something much, much worse.
I glanced back at the bed to find Jim looking at me, a smirk on his face and a Santa hat adorning his sleep-rumpled hair.
“Christ, Jim, where the fuck did you find a Santa hat?”
I let my feet carry me back to the bed, where Jim was lifting up the covers for me to climb in beside him.
“The question isn’t where I found this hat, Bones,” he said conversationally. “The question is, where did I find this?” He held up a book I didn’t recognize. “And the answer is, way the fuck in the back of your dresser. Now, that’s not a very nice way to show your appreciation for my Christmas present, is it?” he pouted.
I had no idea what he was going on about. Until I looked a little closer, and realized with a sinking dismay that he was holding the volume of erotic Christmas poetry that he’d given me last year. Oh hell.
Jim assumed what was probably supposed to be a seductive pose, and opened the book of poetry. I propped myself up on an elbow and let my gaze travel across his body, up his long legs, over his bare chest and through the spattering of hair that my fingers and tongue knew so well, to his sparkling blue eyes and the jaunty Santa hat perched on his head. My dick gave a jolly twitch in my pajama pants.
Jim winked at me, and started reading.
“I'll find you in the firelight, with snowflakes in your hair
Sprawled upon the hearthside rug, and I can't help but stare
You've shed your boots, your belt and coat, along with all the rest
But for a single sprig of mistletoe, upon your glist'ning chest."
So long, boner, I hardly knew ye, I thought as I rolled my eyes. Still, I made a mental note to track down a firepit and hearthside rug as soon as possible.
"I’ve forgotten every moment of the year we’ve been apart,
As I lay my gift-wrapped kisses above your trembling heart…"
"He should probably get that checked out."
“Quiet, the best part's coming up.”
Save me.
“Forget chimneys, forget reindeer, forget jolly old Saint Nick
The only present that I need comes from your throbbing-”
"Jim!"
“It’s erotic Christmas poetry, Bones!”
“It’s an abomination.”
"It's our new Christmas tradition!"
"The hell it is.”
Jim’s eyes flicked down to the crotch of my pajama pants, then back up at me with a knowing look. “Come on…I know you’re feeling it.”
“I’m feeling something,” I muttered, but it sure as hell wasn’t the prurient poetry spilling from his lips. Lips that only hours before had been wrapped decisively around my cock. Lips that still tasted faintly of chocolate and peppermint. Yeah, I was feeling something alright.
I gave in and wrapped my arms around him, pulling our bare torsos together and burying my face in his neck. He ran a hand through my hair and I lifted my face to his, and we kissed, tongues winding together, deep and needy, comfortable and sexy all at the same time. I rutted against him a little, trailed a hand down his stomach to give his cock a quick squeeze over the thin cotton. I loved easing into it like this, loved lazy morning sex in our quarters, but today I was aware of the time, knew Jim would be itching to get to the Christmas festivities so as not to let one garishly-tinseled second go by without his aggressively joyful presence.
I pulled away reluctantly. "Jim, shouldn't we get going? Didn't you tell the crew that the party starts at 9:30?"
"Hmm? Oh. Don't worry," Jim said, stretching lazily as he glanced at the clock. "It's only like 8:15 right now anyway."
The Christmas spirit descended on me just then, filling me with love and joy and peace - at least, that's the only goddamned reason I can think of that I didn't kill the smug, grinning bastard on the spot.
Jim laughed and leaned in to kiss the indignant expression off of my face, and against my better judgment, I let him. Fuck, I even kissed him back, and didn’t protest when his fingers crept around my waist and down the small of my back, dipping beneath my waistband to tease at my crack. I let a breathy, embarrassing sigh escape my lips, and Jim knew he had me. I shifted my hips to give him better access and felt him chuckle against my skin.
I’d long since recognized the benefits of elastic waistbands, and we shed our pants in seconds. He fucked me open with his fingers first, working two and then three inside me, not necessary but by no means unwelcome. I could feel his lips curled into a permanent smile, even after I’d captured them with my own. I twined a leg around his ankles and we melted into each other, close and hot.
Jim slid inside me, joyful innocence morphing into wicked mirth on his face as I let out a shameless moan.
“You like that?” Jim murmured sinfully, twisting his hips and sending sparks of pleasure bursting up my spine.
“Ohhh, fuck Jim,” I groaned, twisting up off the bed in response. I reached up to tweak a nipple and he slammed into me hard.
“Ungh, Bones…gonna fuck you right onto the naughty list.”
“Jim,” I ground out through clenched teeth, “could you maybe hold off on the…nnngh…Christmas metaphors while we’re…shit…so blatantly profaning this holiday?”
“No,” Jim panted, slowing his pace until he was barely moving in me. I huffed in frustration and tried to pull him close, but he just leaned down to murmur in my ear. “Talk Christmas to me, Bones. Tell me how you want Santa in your chimney.”
“What the fuck? Fuck, no!”
“You know you want it,” he cajoled. Fuck, I did, my cock was throbbing and I’d already been so close. He swiveled his hips and my breath hitched.
“Jim-“
“Nope.” He eased back, pulling out slowly. My asshole clenched around the tip of his cock like I was trying to hold on. Which I was. Desperately. “Come on, Bones. Tell me how you want Santa-“
“Jim Kirk, if you don’t slam your fucking Yule log up my chimney right now I will jingle your bells so hard you’ll be singing carols in a whole different register for the next twelve months.”
I’m not proud, but it worked - Jim was laughing and pushing back into me, pumping his hips and wrapping his clever fingers around my aching length. It felt so good, I could almost ignore the fact that the captain of Starfleet’s flagship was fucking me in a Santa hat.
I felt Jim’s rhythm falter, heard him make that sound in the back of his throat that meant he was about to lose it, and I pressed up against his lips. “Love you, Jim.”
“Love you, uh, fuck-“ He squeezed his eyes shut as he thrust into me again. I arched my back as a wave of bliss crashed through me, clenching around Jim as we came together like the goddamn fucking soulmates that we are.
I was riding the aftershocks of my orgasm when I felt Jim move on top of me, sliding down the sweat-slick expanse of my body. I was still wondering what he was up to as he settled between my legs and had just registered the brush of breath against the sensitive skin of my balls when I was shocked into alertness by Jim pushing his tongue into my fucked-raw asshole.
“Blessed baby Santa and all of his elves in heaven,” I murmured, and that was the last coherent thought I was able to muster as Jim went to town, slurping his own come from between my legs like it was a particularly fine eggnog, while I whimpered and shook with pleasure.
Afterwards, Jim looked up at me from between my legs, tongue darting out as he licked subconsciously at his damp lips. “What do you think, Bones? New Christmas tradition?”
“Hell yeah.”
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
*
My legs were still a little shaky as we cleaned up together in the bathroom. I grumbled at Jim for hogging the sink, but he just grinned at me in the mirror. After two years, he’d somehow gotten the impression that the hard candy coating I worked so diligently to maintain was only a cover to hide my soft, marshmallowy center from the world. Which was utter bullshit, of course.
Jim was still naked, and bouncing with excitement, when I stopped him with a hand on his wrist, told him I had something to give him. He raised an eyebrow, but waited dutifully for me to find it. As I rummaged around in the back of the closet (I’d hidden it in there somewhere), I thought back to a month ago, when I’d finally decided what to get him.
* ▲ * ▲ *
"What do you think Jim would like better, monkeys throwing snowballs or cows wearing Santa hats?" I asked Christine distractedly as I scrolled through my PADD.
"Monkeys, definitely. What are we talking about?"
"Hmm? Oh, pajama pants. Christmas present."
"What happened to the skiing wombats?"
"They were badgers, and they suffered an unfortunate accident that rendered them beyond repair." Namely, I'd ripped them off of Jim during a particularly enthusiastic tickle fight.
"Uh huh."
"Ooooh, this one is even better. Giraffes wearing scarves!"
"Yeah, sounds great."
It was great. The giraffes were each wearing, like, ten different scarves, how hilarious is - what the fuck was wrong with me?
“Is that all you’re getting him? Pajama pants?”
“Hmm?” I tore myself away from the catalogue. “No, I’m getting him something else.”
“What?”
“None of your business, that’s what.”
“Is it a holiday-themed sex toy?” Christine asked, with a glimmer in her eye. I had a small heart attack, panicking for a moment that she’d somehow found out about my previous year’s gift to Jim, before I realized that she was joking. I managed a weak chuckle and gave a small prayer of thanks that at least some of my reputation was intact - that no one would actually believe that Leonard McCoy had purchased a candy cane striped dildo for seasonally-appropriate reaming (nor would they believe that the newly-invented Enterprise holiday “Christmas in July” had been my idea…)
“I heard that Pavel’s planning this whole 12 Days of Christmas themed gift thing for Hikaru this year,” Christine shared. “Did you ever think of doing something like that for Jim?”
“No.” And even if I had, I would never, ever admit it.
“No? Come on, you know he’d love it. Eight maids a-milking? Eleven lords a-leaping?”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “Sounds like our last shore leave on Risa.” I ducked as she aimed a swat in my direction.
“So what else are you getting him, hmm?”
I leveled a look at her across the desk. “Christine, if I told you, you’d go tell Uhura, or no, worse, Pavel, and the whole ship would know about it in about three seconds flat.”
“No they wouldn’t!”
“What’s Uhura getting Spock?”
“A special collector’s edition of classic science texts, and this weird kind of underwear that’s supposedly great for Vulcan-“
I raised a hand to stop her, and gave her a pointed look. “And that is why I’m not telling you what I’m getting Jim.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Just give me a hint.”
“No.”
“Is it small?”
“I’m not playing 20 questions, either.”
“Just tell me. It’s small, right?”
“Yes.”
Christine clapped her hands and a gleeful expression lit up her features. She leaned forward, and I could see a manic twinkle in her eye. “Is it small in size, but very important in meaning?” she asked eagerly.
“What- Oh, for the love of-“ I burst, finally realizing where she was going with this line of questioning. I stood up from my chair, grabbed my PADD, and stalked away, leaving Christine (and, let’s face it, probably Pavel), to her speculation.
* ▲ * ▲ *
I made a triumphant sound as I finally found the package, stuffed in the back of the closet behind Jim’s dress uniform.
Jim tore eagerly into the package, giving a squeal of glee when he saw the new pajamas. “Bones! These monkeys are adorable.”
“I know they are.” They were comfortable, too, at least if the pair I was wearing was any indication (I’d gone with the giraffes for myself).
“But Bones…”
“What, Jim?”
“Aren’t these supposed to come with some poetry?”
“Oh, right, uhh…” I thought fast. “Merry Christmas, full of, um, cheer. Now put the damn pants on, and let’s go drink some beer.” Ha! I took a moment to feel pretty damn proud of myself for that one.
Jim looked like he was trying to hide his own surprise as he obediently pulled on the monkey pants. “I don’t think there’s gonna be beer at the Christmas party.”
“Well, excuse me if I couldn’t come up with a good rhyme for whiskey.”
“Frisky,” Jim offered with a wink. “Risky.” I pushed him toward the door before he could continue.
He stopped me with a hand to my chest right before we stepped into the hall and gave me a look.
“You got me something else, didn’t you, Bones?”
“Maybe,” I hedged.
“You did!”
I smiled and kissed him on the nose.
Yeah, I’d gotten him something else. Something small.
Small, and very important.
* ▲ * ▲ *
An hour into the crew’s Christmas celebration found me pleasantly buzzed as I observed the proceedings from the sidelines in the comfiest chair the rec room had to offer. Jim had been roaming the room, clapping people on the back, and referring to himself as “Captain Christmas” while I watched with a bemused expression and sipped a tumbler of quality bourbon that Scotty has somehow procured.
I was somewhat surprised that Jim hadn’t been falling over himself to open my gift like he did every other year. Not that I minded waiting a little bit longer - hell, my palms had been sweating in anticipation for the last three weeks, so a couple more minutes wasn’t going to hurt. Jim caught my eye from across the room and we gave each other small, sheepish smiles. I watched him glance over toward the Christmas tree, saw his expression falter as he realized that there were only two presents left unopened - a large, garishly decorated box, and beside it a small, unembellished package wrapped in simple blue paper.
Jim gravitated toward the large box, as I’d known he would. I only hesitated for a moment before standing up from my chair and ambling across the room to join him at the tree.
“Well, Jim,” I drawled, “what do you say? Want to open your gift?”
Jim shrugged, biting nervously at his lower lip. He looked almost shy, and I was reminded of a similar moment two years prior, when he’d spent most of Christmas morning avoiding me. That Christmas morning had ended with a series of mind-obliterating blowjobs, so I had pretty high hopes for this one.
“We can wait a little longer,” he said, trying to act nonchalant. I could see right through it.
“Jim, I have never seen you wait this long to open a present in your goddamned life. You feeling feverish or something?”
“No! No, I just…okay, I’ll open it.”
I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, like I could contain my frantically beating heart. My breaths were coming faster, and I was feeling a little lightheaded. Watching Jim tear into wrapping paper with that excited little-kid grin on his face was already one of my favorite sights in the universe. With the added gravity of what was in the box, my squishy marshmallow insides could hardly bear it.
When he finally got the lid of the box off, Jim frowned in confusion. “What is this?”
I peered over his shoulder. “Looks like another box.”
“Thank you, Doctor Obvious,” he shot back, giving me a look. “What’s in it?”
I shrugged. “Why don’t you unwrap it and find out?”
By the fifth consecutive wrapped box, Jim was scowling darkly, and I was trying hard not to let on how much I was enjoying his rather adorable frustration. This one was rather securely taped, and for a second I was worried that he’d say fuck it and phaser the thing.
But he finally got it open, and when he did his eyes went wide at the sight of the final box.
“Wait-“ He looked at me. “Bones.”
“Jim.”
“Bones, I…” He looked at the tiny present that remained under the tree and swallowed. “That one’s for you.”
I kept my eyes on him as I reached for the present. His eyes followed my hand as I lifted it, cradled it gently in my palm. I could feel the impatience radiating off of Jim, and I knew how much restraint it was taking him not to yank it out of my hands and tear it open himself. I plucked at the corner of the tape with a fingernail and bit back a smile.
* ▲ * ▲ *
Okay, here’s the truth. About month ago, I’d been in our quarters looking for something to read while I waited for Jim to get back from his shift. I realized I’d left my PADD in my office, so I grabbed one from Jim’s desk and started scrolling through the most recent articles he’d read. Quite frankly, they all looked either boring as shit (“The effect of friction ratios on steering outcomes in aeronautical use under reduced gravity loads”), or like they would give me nightmares for months (“Lost in the Buffer: One Officer’s Shocking Tale of Transporter Room Negligence”). Idly, I clicked through Jim’s files, thinking I’d snoop on one of his away mission reports, maybe get the details on the latest reckless stunt he’d pulled to save some cadet’s ass without telling me. Jim usually labeled his report draft files something like TheTimeSpockAlmostGotLaidonGaltek4, so when I saw one labeled JTKMP1225C, I couldn’t help but open it, curious to find out what he deemed worthy of such an official looking title.
At first I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Lines of verse that seemed to go nowhere, starting and stopping without reason. I furrowed my brow and tried to make sense of what I was reading.
“There once was a reckless boy
Whose heart had never known joy…”
There once was a reckless boy wonder
Whose booty had never been plundered…”
“What will they find when I am ripped apart?
'I love you, Doctor,' written on my heart. - ugh, morbid!”
“Bones,
I tried to write you some poetry this year, I really did, but the words all seemed too trite and cheesy for what I want to tell you. I love you - you know that - but I don’t know if you really know how much I love you. I don’t think you do know, because I barely know, because I every time I look at you, I love you more. Which is kind of crazy, since it’s been two years now, and I think my heart might fucking explode with it. God, my hands are shaking just trying to write this - how the fuck am I ever going to say this out loud to you in front of the entire crew? Maybe I should revise my plan-“
My heart thudded in my chest. I’d been thinking about it, sure, toying with the idea in my mind and then laughing it off because, well, this is me we’re talking about here, me, the bitter divorcee, scarred by- fuck, I don’t even remember anymore. All that was a universe away from what I had now, this thing that Jim and I had, where I looked forward to leaving work, where a shared meal was the highlight of my day…I couldn’t help it, my eyes skipped down the page to read the last thing on the page, a stern note he’d written to himself.
“Don’t freak out. Just get down on one knee and blabber something about how much he means to you. Tell him that you never want to spend a single Christmas without him by your side.
If he says no, then it’s his fucking loss.
He won’t say no.
I hope.”
* ▲ * ▲ *
Which is to say, I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to find as I peeled the tape off Jim’s gift and removed the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek metallic box, rounded on the corners and hinged on one side. And though I knew this had been coming, that didn’t stop a flush of heat from rushing across my skin, my surgeon’s hands shaking a little as I met Jim’s eyes.
Jim glanced down at the identical box clutched tightly in his hand, then he looked at me with a question in his eyes. The room had gone completely silent, and I could feel everyone’s eyes on us, but as far as we were concerned, we were the only two beings in the entire universe. I reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers in my own.
“Ask me, Jim.”
All of our poetry, our clever rhymes and carefully - or in my case, not-so-carefully - crafted verse were forgotten, as Jim said the only words I wanted to hear. “Bones. Will you marry me?”
I forgot all about the box I was gripping in my sweaty hand, and I pulled Jim roughly into my arms to murmur my answer in his ear. “Of course I will, darlin’.”
* ▲ * ▲ *
Uhura was the first one brave enough to penetrate the fog of romantic bliss that the two of us had descended into immediately following the proposal. We’d slid the rings onto each others’ fingers in between kisses and murmured promises, and I couldn’t seem to let go of his hand. And maybe I should have lain off the whiskey a little earlier, because my vision had become slightly blurred and I had to wipe my eyes several times before it cleared up.
We turned to Uhura as she gave a small, polite cough to get our attention. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to make sure I got a chance to congratulate you both before you sneak off back to your quarters for the rest of Christmas day,” she said with a grin.
“Hey,” Jim said, wrapping his arms around my waist and grinning back unapologetically, “can’t argue with tradition.”
“So when’re you getting’ hitched?” Scotty asked jovially, raising his glass as he joined us. “Have I ever mentioned that I love weddings?”
“Well,” I drawled, “I imagine we’ll get married on Christmas.” I glanced at Jim, wondering if I should have waited until we’d talked about it, but when I saw his face light up with a smile bright enough to melt the frostiest of snowmen, I knew I’d said the right thing.
He squeezed me so tight, I lost feeling in everything. “I always wanted to be a Christmas bride,” he sighed happily. I rolled my eyes as Jim slid a hand down to grope my ass, and his lips brushed against my ear. “Now, let’s go celebrate.”
Well now. Maybe I hadn’t lost feeling in everything.
* ▲ * ▲ * ▲ *
Continued here: Christmas for Lovesick Bastards