101 Uses for Bourbon (McCoy/Kirk, NC-17)
Title: 101 Uses for Bourbon
Sequel to: The 10 Commandments of Grits (but this can be read on its own)
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), McCoy/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: mild kink - highlight to view (may contain story spoilers)Talk about: object penetration, rimming, felching.
Genre: drama, humour
Word Count: Around 4240
Beta: betaed as usual by the graciousimachar All remaining errors are my own. She also gets credit for suggesting Woodford Reserve - although I don't think she imagined quite what I was going to do with it!
Summary: In which McCoy makes love to a bottle of Woodford Reserve and a bewildered Jim finally gets some action.
“Jim, darlin’, where’ve you been? I’ve had a hell of a day, kid, been rode hard and put up wet.”
Leonard’s accent had gone as thick as molasses on a cold morning. He was sprawled on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of old soft cut-off denims and cradling a glass of liquor. Jim swallowed hard.
It wasn’t that there weren’t things here that Jim could work with. Alcohol and bare skin were both favourites of his, and then there was that recently discovered kink, a honey-sweet southern accent. It was just that when all three came packaged in the form of his best friend, and that friend was firmly in the ‘not for touching’ category, it was all a bit much for a man.
Leonard raised his glass. “Woodford Reserve, Jim. The best damned drink in the known universe.” The golden liquid swirled hypnotically in the crystal glass. “D’you know that it’s the oldest distillery left in the south? They’ve been producing continually for nearly 450 years. Just think on it, Jim. They were making this nectar of the gods before man had invented the automobile, let alone envisioned space flight.”
He took a sip and Jim watched mesmerized as those fleshy lips moistened with alcohol and that long throat undulated. He was finding it oddly difficult to think straight.
Leonard however was apparently in a chatty mood. “The secret is in the aging, kid. Aging well is an art and damned difficult too, let me tell you.” He gave Jim a crooked grin and stretched languidly on the bed, his flattened stomach showing off a glimpse of the shadow below the fly of the denims. He was still talking, something about charred wood barrels for six years and ancient stone warehouses, something about the stone retaining heat, letting the whiskey shrink and expand gradually. Jim was finding it hard to hear over the rush of blood in his ears, hard to focus past his fixed stare at the dip of Bones’ belly around the button, at the swell of his pecs above that soft flesh. He needed to get a grip before he started to drool.
“What’s up, Bones?” Jim asked, trying not to sound too strangled. “How come you’re celebrating on your own?” Despite all the ostentatious waving of his hip-flask in times of stress, Leonard didn’t actually drink that much and seldom did it alone. He was on call at the hospital too often to risk being hammered.
Leonard gave him wide, lazy grin that sent a tingle up Jim’s spine. His friend so seldom looked happily relaxed. “Well darlin’, guess who just passed their solo flight sim?”
“Wait, what? You did the sim without telling me? Damn Bones, I’ve had your back through all of this. Why leave me out now?”
Leonard had the decency to look vaguely discomforted. He shuffled up a bit straighter on the bed, which had the distracting effect of bringing his denim outlined thighs to Jim’s attention.
“Yeah, I know kid, and you were worth your weight in gold for the crew stuff. But this final one, the solo, I had to deal with that on my own. I didn’t want the added pressure of anybody waiting outside in case I screwed it up royally. I barely scraped through but it’s enough, Jim! It’s the last compulsory flight test that I have to pass. God help us if I ever actually have to pilot anything anytime but my Starfleet career looks safe.”
He toasted Jim with his glass, peered into it in some puzzlement when it appeared to be empty and then toasted him with the bottle instead. Having to watch the slender neck of the bottle disappear into that succulent mouth struck Jim as being both cruel and inhumane.
“Come and join me, Jimmy.” Leonard patted the bed beside him. “It’s been a hell of a week, kid, I’ve been busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor. And now I’m fixin’ on layin' up here for the rest of the day, just me and you and a bottle of mighty fine bourbon.” He rolled onto his side to make space for Jim. “By the time I’m done, I’m plannin’ on being as drunk as a three eyed spider on a blue tick dog. You in, kid?”
Jim shifted uncomfortably, as certain things were thickening embarrassingly below the waist. Life had been a little weird between them ever since Jim had discovered Bones making love to that damned bowl of grits. It had kind of shaken up his view of his best friend, moved the man out of the gruff and grouchy box in Jim’s mind into the gruff and sexy box, and Jim wasn’t at all comfortable with the change.
“That’s great news, Bones. Maybe we should head out to a bar, round up some friends, turn it into a party.” Jim was feeling that this whole thing might be easier on him if he could dilute the semi-naked Bones effect with some company. And the presence of company might persuade the man to put his damned shirt back on.
Hitting on sexy beings came as naturally to Jim Kirk as breathing. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that in some ways it was a defence mechanism, attack the best form of defence and so on. But it was also great fun so he wasn’t going to dig too deeply into his own psyche. However, that didn’t help when faced with his best friend suddenly developing a sinfully sensual side.
Ever since the grits thing Bones would occasionally lean over his shoulder and drawl something into his ear in that slow, southern accent, soft and honey-sweet. Or he would come out with another of those bizarre southern sayings, grinning wickedly at Jim’s astonishment. Occasionally he would call him darlin’ or sugar.
Jim didn’t know if he was flirting or teasing or just being his usual contrary self. He didn’t do any of the other things that Jim could so skilfully read as the language of sexual interest. Jim had reluctantly decided that he had too much to lose to do anything other than play it safe and stay within the boundaries of a manly friendship.
Jim wasn’t used to having a close friend. He’d had plenty of comrades in arms over the years, fellow trouble-makers only too happy to egg him on in creating disturbances and then vanish mysteriously as soon as things went wrong. What he wasn’t used to was having someone who was unimpressed by his charm, by his genius, by his tragic history. Someone who told him upfront that he was being a fool and deserved all he got, and yet was still around to bail him out, heal him up and on one memorable occasion knee his attacker hard and straight in the nuts.
Leonard was watching him with his head tilted slightly, as if trying to work out a puzzle. He poured some more of the liquor into the glass and then instead of just drinking the damn stuff he stuck two fingers into it and slowly, thoughtfully licked the bourbon off them, his pink tongue winding its way round first one finger then the other. The doctor had beautiful hands, large and competent, with long slender fingers. Jim’s throat felt suddenly dry. He could do with a damned drink himself.
Leonard casually removed the fingers from his mouth and trailed them thoughtfully down his chest and across his belly. Jim’s eyes helplessly followed the movement.
“Dammit Jim, I thought you’d be all over me like white on rice. What in hell are you waiting for?”
Jim boggled at him.
“You’re damned contrary, Jim. Alcohol, naked skin, no objections. Isn’t that what you go for? I happen to know that you’ve slept with half your class, several of your instructors and if the rumour mill is to be believed, at least one of the Admirals. It ain’t gentlemanly to keep a man waitin’ like this, Jimmy. So are you fixin’ to do something about it, or ain’t you?”
“Do something?” Jim looked at him uncertainly. He understood the sense of the words but not the context. He had no idea what was really going on.
“C’mon genius boy, you’re acting right addled. Do you want directions or somethin’? I can do directions.” Leonard dipped his fingers back in the glass and then began to draw sticky alcohol lines across his skin. He drew a wobbly line from his clavicle down to his sternum. Jim watched wide-eyed as the fingers paused for an alcoholic top-up just before falling off the bottom of his rib-cage onto the soft belly below. Looking up a Jim through coyly lowered eyelashes, Leonard let the sticky fingers travel down into the treasure trail of dark hair that led from his belly button down under the button of the denims. There he ostentatiously drew a large arrow-head pointing southwards.
Jim stared at him in astonishment.
“Well shut my mouth!” Leonard drawled, amused. “I finally left motor-mouth Kirk speechless. Well kid, c’mon, fish or cut bait!”
“Do what? Damn Bones, speak English can’t you!”
“Do something, Jim. Christ, you’re as useless as tits on a boar.” Leonard rose up onto his knees, grabbed Jim by the collar of his uniform and pulled him down onto the bed on top of him.
Jim found himself lying in the V of Leonard’s legs, his stomach pressed against the other man’s groin, his eyes level with that well-defined chest. His senses were filled with the scent of alcohol and warm skin and Bones’ aftershave. His intensified arousal was typical in such a situation. His rising panic was not. He pulled back until he was sitting on his knees.
“Bones, how drunk are you?” With what little blood was circulating above waist level Jim was still capable of doing some strategic thinking. For all that he desperately wanted to push his friend down into the mattress and ravish him thoroughly and repeatedly, it wasn’t worth the risk, not if this was going to end with a grumpy and regretful Bones in the morning. Leonard could be damned cutting when he was in a mood and Jim was feeling too vulnerable to take that chance. Jim wasn’t used to having something to lose and it made him nervous.
Leonard pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked intently at Jim. “Hmm, I guess I should’ve seen this coming.” He eased off with the pronounced drawl. “I’m not all that drunk, kid. By southern standards I’ve not had much more than an aperitif. Jim, I want this. I want you. And I know you want me. I’m a doctor, remember? And despite all the tricorder shit, we are trained to look at people.”
He brushed a hand gently through Jim’s hair and down the side of his face, cupping his jaw. “The thing about patients, Jim, is that they lie to you. Sometimes deliberately, sometimes through ignorance, but they seldom know which of their symptoms are the ones that matter. We work it out by looking at them, their eyes, their skin, the way they hold themselves. And you, kid, are an open book.”
He brushed a thumb across Jim’s lips, traced an eyebrow with a finger. “All I have to do is go a little southern on you and your pupils dilate and your pulse speeds up. You swallow hard.” He ran his hand down Jim’s neck, brushing over the Adam’s apple to rest on the carotid artery. Jim could feel that thudding of his own blood against the pressure of Bones’ fingers.
“This fellow here starts to jump. I know you Jim. I know what you want.”
“But why now?” Jim whispered breathlessly.
Leonard smiled smugly. “I promised myself that I’d have you as a reward for passing all those fucking flight sims. I’ve been motivating myself with this for months, ever since I first saw that glimmer of interest from you when Ms Geraldine sent me those heavenly grits.”
“I’m your reward?” Jim wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or outraged. “Pretty damned sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Well yes, I figured passing the damned sims would be the hard bit, figured seducing you would be as easy as sliding off a greasy log backward. It’s provin’ to be harder going than I expected.”
Leonard took a swig straight from the bottle. Then he cupped his friend’s face with both those large capable hands and gently pressed his bourbon-slick lips against Jim’s mouth. He teased the other man’s lips open with just the tip of his tongue and let the liquor trickle out of his mouth into Jim’s.
Jim was happy to drink just about anything, especially if someone else was buying it, but bourbon had never been on top of his list. Before now he might have said that Woodford Reserve was a little too sweet for his taste. But Woodford Reserve a la Bones was rapidly becoming his favourite drink of all time.
Leonard was now licking the alcohol back out of Jim’s mouth, his tongue industriously mapping the soft folds below Jim’s tongue, the ridges of his hard palate, the smooth walls of his inner cheeks. Jim had never felt so thoroughly explored.
At last they pulled away to catch a breath, Leonard resting his forehead against Jim’s. “You taste mighty fine, sugar. Just the best flavour ever.”
The doctor pushed him down flat on the bed and then dipped those long fingers back in the bourbon. He dribbled golden liquid down Jim’s chest, a small pool in the dip at the base of his neck, a splattering across his pecs, a large drop onto a nipple. And then he began to lick it all back up again. Jim gave himself up to the delicious sensation of being a buffet for his best friend, still not quite able to believe that this was really happening.
At last Leonard looked up, lying with his head on his hands which were crossed on Jim’s chest. For a long moment he watched Jim watching him. Thick dark lashes framed eyes that were a beautiful mix of green and brown, a warm welcoming colour that Jim liked more than his own icy blue.
“You, honey,” drawled Leonard, “are cuter than a speckled pup in a red wagon.”
“What? I am not. I am strong and manly and handsome, a picture of male virility.”
Leonard grinned and began to kiss his way back up towards Jim’s mouth. “Don’t you argue with me, Jimmy boy. I know what I see and you are “ - a kiss to his stomach - “the sweetest little heifer“ - a nibble on a nipple - “as pretty as two pigs in a poke,” - a soft suck on his collar bone - “cuter than a mess of fried catfish!”
“Catfish? Fried catfish?” Jim started to laugh helplessly, his tension leaching away in his amusement. “Bones, I swear that all that southern sun must fry your brain cells or something.”
Leonard smiled back at him, that easy happiness making him look years younger. “Now that’s not the right reply at all, Jim. See, that’s where you blush prettily and tell me: oh, hush yo' mouth, Lenny boy. And the next thing we know your big brother is comin’ after me with a shot-gun wantin’ to know what my intentions are towards you.”
“Bones, you are totally weird and I think I can guarantee that Sam won’t be coming after you with a gun any time soon. If anything, he’ll reckon we deserve each other.”
“Good man! We should drink to that. A toast to Sam!”
This time Jim got to drink the liquor and dribble it bit by bit down into Bones’ open mouth, watching mesmerized as that pink tongue darted out to catch the drops. Now that he could finally begin to believe that this was happening, that this was right and wanted and allowed, his vivid imagination could think of all sorts of filthy things to do with such a pretty mouth.
“Too many clothes, Jim,” Leonard announced once they’d finished a painstaking exploration of each other’s mouths in pursuit of the last of the bourbon. Jim Kirk didn’t need to be told twice to take his clothes off. If he wasn’t as fast as he could be, he blamed the distraction of his best friend casually getting naked. He knew that Bones was a good-looking man, if you got past the scowl and the attitude. But knowing it was one thing and having it all laid out just for his delectation was a different thing altogether.
Leonard pulled Jim close against his body, wrapping him up in arms and legs and hot skin, and began to whisper in his ear in a drawl as slow as the Mississippi. “I’ve got so many things I want to do to you, James Tiberius Kirk! Do you know that there were nearly a dozen of those confounded flight sims that I had to pass? And for every one that I did, I rewarded myself with a long and detailed fantasy of what my prize would be. I’ve got a list, sugar, and I’m a methodical man when it comes to these things.”
“Oh yeah,” Jim whispered back, trying to hide the quiver in his voice at the thought of Bones entertaining detailed fantasies about him while lying in such supposed innocence in the bed next to his. “So what’s on the list for today?”
“Well honey, it’s not actually on the list as such, but I’m feeling inspired this afternoon. You see this here mighty fine bottle of bourbon, which we haven’t yet quite managed to empty?”
He waved the bottle at Jim, the square body topped by a long narrow neck. “Now what I’d like to do is get you up on your knees with your sweet face buried in one of these here pillows, your thighs nicely spread to give me easy access to that lovely ass of yours. And I’ll warm you up a little with my mouth, lick and suck and nibble at that pretty pucker of yours, fuck you with my tongue just to get you relaxed.”
Leonard smiled at the quickening of Jim’s breath. Nibbling gently on the edge of his ear, he continued, “This is just the appetizer, darlin’, we ain’t got to the main event yet. Because see, I’m gonna find some lube - which I’m sure a hound dog like you has stashed here somewhere - and I’m gonna lube up the neck of this here bottle. I’ll get you to lower that ass down onto your heels and then I’ll push the neck of bottle into that tight little hole of yours, and fuck you oh so slowly with it.”
Jim was squirming against him, trying to press against Leonard’s erection, his breath coming in short pants. “Damn Bones, you have a filthy imagination.”
“Oh baby, we’ve barely got started. Because then you’re going to push that peachy ass back up into the air so that I can tip the rest of the bourbon into your sweet hole. Now this is mighty fine bourbon, Jim, and I have to say that I wouldn’t be wasting it on just any ass. But yours, I reckon that yours deserves it. And then I’m going to grease up my cock and push it slowly into you. And you are going to feel so full, sugar, with my prick and the liquor, fuller than you’ve ever felt before. And I’m going to fuck into that fine golden liquid… It’s gonna burn, baby, it’s gonna burn so good!”
Jim was whining now, scrabbling for Bones’ hand which he wrapped round his own cock, now pulsing hard and drooling pre-ejaculate. Leonard paused to pour some of the bourbon in the glass into his hand and then began to stroke Jim’s prick with a mixture of liquor and pre-come. Jim gasped at the sting, clutching at Leonard’s arm.
“I’m going to fuck you slow and deep, honey, and you’re going to feel every inch of every stroke. I’m going to come buried balls deep in your hot tight ass, darlin´, fill up what space is left with my come. And then baby, I’m gonna go back down there with my mouth and eat you out, suck out my juices and yours, all mixed up in the flavour of fine bourbon. Swirl my tongue deep inside your ass and lick up every last drop.”
“Fuck Bones, just…. fucking fuck… gonna come.” Jim had put his own hand firmly over Bones’ to force him to speed up and was spiralling hot and hard towards an explosive climax.
Jim turned in Bones’ arms and buried his face against the other man’s chest, panting out the last of the aftershocks. “Christ Bones, you are a fucking filthy pervert, how did I not know this about you?”
Leonard laughed against his hair. “Old men like me, we know a few tricks, Jim.” He took his hand, now smeared with Jim’s come and lacing his fingers with Jim’s, began to stroke himself off. After the inspiration provided by his friend’s orgasm it didn’t take long.
Lying lazily with Jim tucked into the crook of his shoulder, Leonard ran his long fingers through his own come and Jim’s, dipped the fingers into the last of the bourbon in the glass, and licked the concoction off them.
“Now they say, sugar, that this bourbon is smooth with subtle spice, that it has notes of charcoal and dark chocolate. God knows how they work that one out! But anyway, I have to say that it’s a damned sight better with notes of Jim Kirk’s semen.” He mixed up another round and fed it to Jim who latched onto those beautiful fingers like a mother’s teat.
“Now ain’t that a sight for sore eyes, your pouty lips sucking up my come. You, Jim boy, are prettier than a glob of butter melting on a stack of wheat cakes!”
Jim started laughing helplessly around the fingers. “Oh, give it a rest with your mad southernisms, Bones. How is a man supposed to have his post-coital nap with you going on like some back-woods hill-billy?”
Leonard smiled back, his eyes alight with affection. “Don’t sass me, boy, you’re not too old for a whippin’!”
“Ooh, it that on the list too, Bones?”
Leonard settled Jim tightly against his side. “The way you behave, I think it had better be.”
They lay in silence for a while, Jim listening to their breathing slowly coming into alignment. Although his body was deliciously relaxed, his mind was spinning. What if this was all that Bones wanted? What if now that all those flights sims were done he lost interest?
Jim was feeling much as he had when he drove his dad’s car towards that cliff, except that this time he hadn’t jumped. He was in freefall and he didn’t know how he was going to land. He didn’t know too much about being in love, had always despised the idea, to be honest. He’d seen the pain and the damage caused by that overrated emotion. But he had a horrible suspicion that love might have just outmanoeuvred him. There didn’t seem to be any other explanation for this shivery happiness that he felt lying next to this man, his best friend, his ally and his partner, loyal, brilliant, handsome and apparently possessing a filthy mind that outstripped even Jim’s own. How could he not be in love?
But Bones was done with love, after that horrific divorce. And where did that leave Jim?
“Stop thinking so hard, darlin’. I can see the smoke pouring out of your ears.”
Jim took a deep breath. Better an answer, one way or the other, than this aching uncertainty. “Bones, why this, why now, why me?”
Leonard stroked a hand gently across his hair while he considered the question. Finally he turned to look Jim in the eye. “Maybe because the time finally seems right. I feel as if I’ve spent the last two years running, Jim, running from my fears and my failures and my past. For years I’ve been wound up tighter than an eight day clock. But now, at last, I’m beginning to see a way forward. With those damned flight sims out of the way I can finally believe that I have a future with Starfleet. I like it here, Jim. I’m beginning to feel useful again, ready to move forward. And I’m thinkin’ that that journey might be more fun with a friend.”
He lent forward and kissed Jim on the nose. “And as for why you, god Jim, it couldn’t be anyone else. It’s always been all about you, ever since that damned shuttle.”
Jim draped himself even tighter around Leonard, hooking a leg over a firm thigh, placing his arm possessively around that broad chest. It seemed that love came wrapped up in happiness and he wasn’t about to let go of either feeling any time soon.
“So you’re happy, Bones?”
“Now wait a damn minute, Jim, I can’t just go around admitting to happiness willy-nilly. It’ll destroy my grumpy old bastard reputation.” Leonard ran a hand languidly down Jim’s spine, cupped a shapely buttock.
“But yeah, just between you and me, kid, I’m happier than a fat tick on a skinny dog.”
- THE END -
Sequel to: The 10 Commandments of Grits (but this can be read on its own)
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), McCoy/Kirk
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: mild kink - highlight to view (may contain story spoilers)Talk about: object penetration, rimming, felching.
Genre: drama, humour
Word Count: Around 4240
Beta: betaed as usual by the graciousimachar All remaining errors are my own. She also gets credit for suggesting Woodford Reserve - although I don't think she imagined quite what I was going to do with it!
Summary: In which McCoy makes love to a bottle of Woodford Reserve and a bewildered Jim finally gets some action.
“Jim, darlin’, where’ve you been? I’ve had a hell of a day, kid, been rode hard and put up wet.”
Leonard’s accent had gone as thick as molasses on a cold morning. He was sprawled on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of old soft cut-off denims and cradling a glass of liquor. Jim swallowed hard.
It wasn’t that there weren’t things here that Jim could work with. Alcohol and bare skin were both favourites of his, and then there was that recently discovered kink, a honey-sweet southern accent. It was just that when all three came packaged in the form of his best friend, and that friend was firmly in the ‘not for touching’ category, it was all a bit much for a man.
Leonard raised his glass. “Woodford Reserve, Jim. The best damned drink in the known universe.” The golden liquid swirled hypnotically in the crystal glass. “D’you know that it’s the oldest distillery left in the south? They’ve been producing continually for nearly 450 years. Just think on it, Jim. They were making this nectar of the gods before man had invented the automobile, let alone envisioned space flight.”
He took a sip and Jim watched mesmerized as those fleshy lips moistened with alcohol and that long throat undulated. He was finding it oddly difficult to think straight.
Leonard however was apparently in a chatty mood. “The secret is in the aging, kid. Aging well is an art and damned difficult too, let me tell you.” He gave Jim a crooked grin and stretched languidly on the bed, his flattened stomach showing off a glimpse of the shadow below the fly of the denims. He was still talking, something about charred wood barrels for six years and ancient stone warehouses, something about the stone retaining heat, letting the whiskey shrink and expand gradually. Jim was finding it hard to hear over the rush of blood in his ears, hard to focus past his fixed stare at the dip of Bones’ belly around the button, at the swell of his pecs above that soft flesh. He needed to get a grip before he started to drool.
“What’s up, Bones?” Jim asked, trying not to sound too strangled. “How come you’re celebrating on your own?” Despite all the ostentatious waving of his hip-flask in times of stress, Leonard didn’t actually drink that much and seldom did it alone. He was on call at the hospital too often to risk being hammered.
Leonard gave him wide, lazy grin that sent a tingle up Jim’s spine. His friend so seldom looked happily relaxed. “Well darlin’, guess who just passed their solo flight sim?”
“Wait, what? You did the sim without telling me? Damn Bones, I’ve had your back through all of this. Why leave me out now?”
Leonard had the decency to look vaguely discomforted. He shuffled up a bit straighter on the bed, which had the distracting effect of bringing his denim outlined thighs to Jim’s attention.
“Yeah, I know kid, and you were worth your weight in gold for the crew stuff. But this final one, the solo, I had to deal with that on my own. I didn’t want the added pressure of anybody waiting outside in case I screwed it up royally. I barely scraped through but it’s enough, Jim! It’s the last compulsory flight test that I have to pass. God help us if I ever actually have to pilot anything anytime but my Starfleet career looks safe.”
He toasted Jim with his glass, peered into it in some puzzlement when it appeared to be empty and then toasted him with the bottle instead. Having to watch the slender neck of the bottle disappear into that succulent mouth struck Jim as being both cruel and inhumane.
“Come and join me, Jimmy.” Leonard patted the bed beside him. “It’s been a hell of a week, kid, I’ve been busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor. And now I’m fixin’ on layin' up here for the rest of the day, just me and you and a bottle of mighty fine bourbon.” He rolled onto his side to make space for Jim. “By the time I’m done, I’m plannin’ on being as drunk as a three eyed spider on a blue tick dog. You in, kid?”
Jim shifted uncomfortably, as certain things were thickening embarrassingly below the waist. Life had been a little weird between them ever since Jim had discovered Bones making love to that damned bowl of grits. It had kind of shaken up his view of his best friend, moved the man out of the gruff and grouchy box in Jim’s mind into the gruff and sexy box, and Jim wasn’t at all comfortable with the change.
“That’s great news, Bones. Maybe we should head out to a bar, round up some friends, turn it into a party.” Jim was feeling that this whole thing might be easier on him if he could dilute the semi-naked Bones effect with some company. And the presence of company might persuade the man to put his damned shirt back on.
Hitting on sexy beings came as naturally to Jim Kirk as breathing. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that in some ways it was a defence mechanism, attack the best form of defence and so on. But it was also great fun so he wasn’t going to dig too deeply into his own psyche. However, that didn’t help when faced with his best friend suddenly developing a sinfully sensual side.
Ever since the grits thing Bones would occasionally lean over his shoulder and drawl something into his ear in that slow, southern accent, soft and honey-sweet. Or he would come out with another of those bizarre southern sayings, grinning wickedly at Jim’s astonishment. Occasionally he would call him darlin’ or sugar.
Jim didn’t know if he was flirting or teasing or just being his usual contrary self. He didn’t do any of the other things that Jim could so skilfully read as the language of sexual interest. Jim had reluctantly decided that he had too much to lose to do anything other than play it safe and stay within the boundaries of a manly friendship.
Jim wasn’t used to having a close friend. He’d had plenty of comrades in arms over the years, fellow trouble-makers only too happy to egg him on in creating disturbances and then vanish mysteriously as soon as things went wrong. What he wasn’t used to was having someone who was unimpressed by his charm, by his genius, by his tragic history. Someone who told him upfront that he was being a fool and deserved all he got, and yet was still around to bail him out, heal him up and on one memorable occasion knee his attacker hard and straight in the nuts.
Leonard was watching him with his head tilted slightly, as if trying to work out a puzzle. He poured some more of the liquor into the glass and then instead of just drinking the damn stuff he stuck two fingers into it and slowly, thoughtfully licked the bourbon off them, his pink tongue winding its way round first one finger then the other. The doctor had beautiful hands, large and competent, with long slender fingers. Jim’s throat felt suddenly dry. He could do with a damned drink himself.
Leonard casually removed the fingers from his mouth and trailed them thoughtfully down his chest and across his belly. Jim’s eyes helplessly followed the movement.
“Dammit Jim, I thought you’d be all over me like white on rice. What in hell are you waiting for?”
Jim boggled at him.
“You’re damned contrary, Jim. Alcohol, naked skin, no objections. Isn’t that what you go for? I happen to know that you’ve slept with half your class, several of your instructors and if the rumour mill is to be believed, at least one of the Admirals. It ain’t gentlemanly to keep a man waitin’ like this, Jimmy. So are you fixin’ to do something about it, or ain’t you?”
“Do something?” Jim looked at him uncertainly. He understood the sense of the words but not the context. He had no idea what was really going on.
“C’mon genius boy, you’re acting right addled. Do you want directions or somethin’? I can do directions.” Leonard dipped his fingers back in the glass and then began to draw sticky alcohol lines across his skin. He drew a wobbly line from his clavicle down to his sternum. Jim watched wide-eyed as the fingers paused for an alcoholic top-up just before falling off the bottom of his rib-cage onto the soft belly below. Looking up a Jim through coyly lowered eyelashes, Leonard let the sticky fingers travel down into the treasure trail of dark hair that led from his belly button down under the button of the denims. There he ostentatiously drew a large arrow-head pointing southwards.
Jim stared at him in astonishment.
“Well shut my mouth!” Leonard drawled, amused. “I finally left motor-mouth Kirk speechless. Well kid, c’mon, fish or cut bait!”
“Do what? Damn Bones, speak English can’t you!”
“Do something, Jim. Christ, you’re as useless as tits on a boar.” Leonard rose up onto his knees, grabbed Jim by the collar of his uniform and pulled him down onto the bed on top of him.
Jim found himself lying in the V of Leonard’s legs, his stomach pressed against the other man’s groin, his eyes level with that well-defined chest. His senses were filled with the scent of alcohol and warm skin and Bones’ aftershave. His intensified arousal was typical in such a situation. His rising panic was not. He pulled back until he was sitting on his knees.
“Bones, how drunk are you?” With what little blood was circulating above waist level Jim was still capable of doing some strategic thinking. For all that he desperately wanted to push his friend down into the mattress and ravish him thoroughly and repeatedly, it wasn’t worth the risk, not if this was going to end with a grumpy and regretful Bones in the morning. Leonard could be damned cutting when he was in a mood and Jim was feeling too vulnerable to take that chance. Jim wasn’t used to having something to lose and it made him nervous.
Leonard pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked intently at Jim. “Hmm, I guess I should’ve seen this coming.” He eased off with the pronounced drawl. “I’m not all that drunk, kid. By southern standards I’ve not had much more than an aperitif. Jim, I want this. I want you. And I know you want me. I’m a doctor, remember? And despite all the tricorder shit, we are trained to look at people.”
He brushed a hand gently through Jim’s hair and down the side of his face, cupping his jaw. “The thing about patients, Jim, is that they lie to you. Sometimes deliberately, sometimes through ignorance, but they seldom know which of their symptoms are the ones that matter. We work it out by looking at them, their eyes, their skin, the way they hold themselves. And you, kid, are an open book.”
He brushed a thumb across Jim’s lips, traced an eyebrow with a finger. “All I have to do is go a little southern on you and your pupils dilate and your pulse speeds up. You swallow hard.” He ran his hand down Jim’s neck, brushing over the Adam’s apple to rest on the carotid artery. Jim could feel that thudding of his own blood against the pressure of Bones’ fingers.
“This fellow here starts to jump. I know you Jim. I know what you want.”
“But why now?” Jim whispered breathlessly.
Leonard smiled smugly. “I promised myself that I’d have you as a reward for passing all those fucking flight sims. I’ve been motivating myself with this for months, ever since I first saw that glimmer of interest from you when Ms Geraldine sent me those heavenly grits.”
“I’m your reward?” Jim wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or outraged. “Pretty damned sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Well yes, I figured passing the damned sims would be the hard bit, figured seducing you would be as easy as sliding off a greasy log backward. It’s provin’ to be harder going than I expected.”
Leonard took a swig straight from the bottle. Then he cupped his friend’s face with both those large capable hands and gently pressed his bourbon-slick lips against Jim’s mouth. He teased the other man’s lips open with just the tip of his tongue and let the liquor trickle out of his mouth into Jim’s.
Jim was happy to drink just about anything, especially if someone else was buying it, but bourbon had never been on top of his list. Before now he might have said that Woodford Reserve was a little too sweet for his taste. But Woodford Reserve a la Bones was rapidly becoming his favourite drink of all time.
Leonard was now licking the alcohol back out of Jim’s mouth, his tongue industriously mapping the soft folds below Jim’s tongue, the ridges of his hard palate, the smooth walls of his inner cheeks. Jim had never felt so thoroughly explored.
At last they pulled away to catch a breath, Leonard resting his forehead against Jim’s. “You taste mighty fine, sugar. Just the best flavour ever.”
The doctor pushed him down flat on the bed and then dipped those long fingers back in the bourbon. He dribbled golden liquid down Jim’s chest, a small pool in the dip at the base of his neck, a splattering across his pecs, a large drop onto a nipple. And then he began to lick it all back up again. Jim gave himself up to the delicious sensation of being a buffet for his best friend, still not quite able to believe that this was really happening.
At last Leonard looked up, lying with his head on his hands which were crossed on Jim’s chest. For a long moment he watched Jim watching him. Thick dark lashes framed eyes that were a beautiful mix of green and brown, a warm welcoming colour that Jim liked more than his own icy blue.
“You, honey,” drawled Leonard, “are cuter than a speckled pup in a red wagon.”
“What? I am not. I am strong and manly and handsome, a picture of male virility.”
Leonard grinned and began to kiss his way back up towards Jim’s mouth. “Don’t you argue with me, Jimmy boy. I know what I see and you are “ - a kiss to his stomach - “the sweetest little heifer“ - a nibble on a nipple - “as pretty as two pigs in a poke,” - a soft suck on his collar bone - “cuter than a mess of fried catfish!”
“Catfish? Fried catfish?” Jim started to laugh helplessly, his tension leaching away in his amusement. “Bones, I swear that all that southern sun must fry your brain cells or something.”
Leonard smiled back at him, that easy happiness making him look years younger. “Now that’s not the right reply at all, Jim. See, that’s where you blush prettily and tell me: oh, hush yo' mouth, Lenny boy. And the next thing we know your big brother is comin’ after me with a shot-gun wantin’ to know what my intentions are towards you.”
“Bones, you are totally weird and I think I can guarantee that Sam won’t be coming after you with a gun any time soon. If anything, he’ll reckon we deserve each other.”
“Good man! We should drink to that. A toast to Sam!”
This time Jim got to drink the liquor and dribble it bit by bit down into Bones’ open mouth, watching mesmerized as that pink tongue darted out to catch the drops. Now that he could finally begin to believe that this was happening, that this was right and wanted and allowed, his vivid imagination could think of all sorts of filthy things to do with such a pretty mouth.
“Too many clothes, Jim,” Leonard announced once they’d finished a painstaking exploration of each other’s mouths in pursuit of the last of the bourbon. Jim Kirk didn’t need to be told twice to take his clothes off. If he wasn’t as fast as he could be, he blamed the distraction of his best friend casually getting naked. He knew that Bones was a good-looking man, if you got past the scowl and the attitude. But knowing it was one thing and having it all laid out just for his delectation was a different thing altogether.
Leonard pulled Jim close against his body, wrapping him up in arms and legs and hot skin, and began to whisper in his ear in a drawl as slow as the Mississippi. “I’ve got so many things I want to do to you, James Tiberius Kirk! Do you know that there were nearly a dozen of those confounded flight sims that I had to pass? And for every one that I did, I rewarded myself with a long and detailed fantasy of what my prize would be. I’ve got a list, sugar, and I’m a methodical man when it comes to these things.”
“Oh yeah,” Jim whispered back, trying to hide the quiver in his voice at the thought of Bones entertaining detailed fantasies about him while lying in such supposed innocence in the bed next to his. “So what’s on the list for today?”
“Well honey, it’s not actually on the list as such, but I’m feeling inspired this afternoon. You see this here mighty fine bottle of bourbon, which we haven’t yet quite managed to empty?”
He waved the bottle at Jim, the square body topped by a long narrow neck. “Now what I’d like to do is get you up on your knees with your sweet face buried in one of these here pillows, your thighs nicely spread to give me easy access to that lovely ass of yours. And I’ll warm you up a little with my mouth, lick and suck and nibble at that pretty pucker of yours, fuck you with my tongue just to get you relaxed.”
Leonard smiled at the quickening of Jim’s breath. Nibbling gently on the edge of his ear, he continued, “This is just the appetizer, darlin’, we ain’t got to the main event yet. Because see, I’m gonna find some lube - which I’m sure a hound dog like you has stashed here somewhere - and I’m gonna lube up the neck of this here bottle. I’ll get you to lower that ass down onto your heels and then I’ll push the neck of bottle into that tight little hole of yours, and fuck you oh so slowly with it.”
Jim was squirming against him, trying to press against Leonard’s erection, his breath coming in short pants. “Damn Bones, you have a filthy imagination.”
“Oh baby, we’ve barely got started. Because then you’re going to push that peachy ass back up into the air so that I can tip the rest of the bourbon into your sweet hole. Now this is mighty fine bourbon, Jim, and I have to say that I wouldn’t be wasting it on just any ass. But yours, I reckon that yours deserves it. And then I’m going to grease up my cock and push it slowly into you. And you are going to feel so full, sugar, with my prick and the liquor, fuller than you’ve ever felt before. And I’m going to fuck into that fine golden liquid… It’s gonna burn, baby, it’s gonna burn so good!”
Jim was whining now, scrabbling for Bones’ hand which he wrapped round his own cock, now pulsing hard and drooling pre-ejaculate. Leonard paused to pour some of the bourbon in the glass into his hand and then began to stroke Jim’s prick with a mixture of liquor and pre-come. Jim gasped at the sting, clutching at Leonard’s arm.
“I’m going to fuck you slow and deep, honey, and you’re going to feel every inch of every stroke. I’m going to come buried balls deep in your hot tight ass, darlin´, fill up what space is left with my come. And then baby, I’m gonna go back down there with my mouth and eat you out, suck out my juices and yours, all mixed up in the flavour of fine bourbon. Swirl my tongue deep inside your ass and lick up every last drop.”
“Fuck Bones, just…. fucking fuck… gonna come.” Jim had put his own hand firmly over Bones’ to force him to speed up and was spiralling hot and hard towards an explosive climax.
Jim turned in Bones’ arms and buried his face against the other man’s chest, panting out the last of the aftershocks. “Christ Bones, you are a fucking filthy pervert, how did I not know this about you?”
Leonard laughed against his hair. “Old men like me, we know a few tricks, Jim.” He took his hand, now smeared with Jim’s come and lacing his fingers with Jim’s, began to stroke himself off. After the inspiration provided by his friend’s orgasm it didn’t take long.
Lying lazily with Jim tucked into the crook of his shoulder, Leonard ran his long fingers through his own come and Jim’s, dipped the fingers into the last of the bourbon in the glass, and licked the concoction off them.
“Now they say, sugar, that this bourbon is smooth with subtle spice, that it has notes of charcoal and dark chocolate. God knows how they work that one out! But anyway, I have to say that it’s a damned sight better with notes of Jim Kirk’s semen.” He mixed up another round and fed it to Jim who latched onto those beautiful fingers like a mother’s teat.
“Now ain’t that a sight for sore eyes, your pouty lips sucking up my come. You, Jim boy, are prettier than a glob of butter melting on a stack of wheat cakes!”
Jim started laughing helplessly around the fingers. “Oh, give it a rest with your mad southernisms, Bones. How is a man supposed to have his post-coital nap with you going on like some back-woods hill-billy?”
Leonard smiled back, his eyes alight with affection. “Don’t sass me, boy, you’re not too old for a whippin’!”
“Ooh, it that on the list too, Bones?”
Leonard settled Jim tightly against his side. “The way you behave, I think it had better be.”
They lay in silence for a while, Jim listening to their breathing slowly coming into alignment. Although his body was deliciously relaxed, his mind was spinning. What if this was all that Bones wanted? What if now that all those flights sims were done he lost interest?
Jim was feeling much as he had when he drove his dad’s car towards that cliff, except that this time he hadn’t jumped. He was in freefall and he didn’t know how he was going to land. He didn’t know too much about being in love, had always despised the idea, to be honest. He’d seen the pain and the damage caused by that overrated emotion. But he had a horrible suspicion that love might have just outmanoeuvred him. There didn’t seem to be any other explanation for this shivery happiness that he felt lying next to this man, his best friend, his ally and his partner, loyal, brilliant, handsome and apparently possessing a filthy mind that outstripped even Jim’s own. How could he not be in love?
But Bones was done with love, after that horrific divorce. And where did that leave Jim?
“Stop thinking so hard, darlin’. I can see the smoke pouring out of your ears.”
Jim took a deep breath. Better an answer, one way or the other, than this aching uncertainty. “Bones, why this, why now, why me?”
Leonard stroked a hand gently across his hair while he considered the question. Finally he turned to look Jim in the eye. “Maybe because the time finally seems right. I feel as if I’ve spent the last two years running, Jim, running from my fears and my failures and my past. For years I’ve been wound up tighter than an eight day clock. But now, at last, I’m beginning to see a way forward. With those damned flight sims out of the way I can finally believe that I have a future with Starfleet. I like it here, Jim. I’m beginning to feel useful again, ready to move forward. And I’m thinkin’ that that journey might be more fun with a friend.”
He lent forward and kissed Jim on the nose. “And as for why you, god Jim, it couldn’t be anyone else. It’s always been all about you, ever since that damned shuttle.”
Jim draped himself even tighter around Leonard, hooking a leg over a firm thigh, placing his arm possessively around that broad chest. It seemed that love came wrapped up in happiness and he wasn’t about to let go of either feeling any time soon.
“So you’re happy, Bones?”
“Now wait a damn minute, Jim, I can’t just go around admitting to happiness willy-nilly. It’ll destroy my grumpy old bastard reputation.” Leonard ran a hand languidly down Jim’s spine, cupped a shapely buttock.
“But yeah, just between you and me, kid, I’m happier than a fat tick on a skinny dog.”
- THE END -