And Then There Were--?

Lyrastar  < Lyrastarwatcher @ >



Series: TOS

Codes: K/Mc, K/S/Mc, PWP

Rating: NC-17

Contact: Lyrastarwatcher at yahoo dot com or

Disclaimer: Why isn't there a disclaimer macro?  <text="Paramount">

Notes: for the Kirk/McCoy fest at  Thanks to j.juls for her fabulous story "Encounter" which made me think all sorts of lovely, though NC-17 thoughts and thanks to Hypatia for the much appreciated "on the fly" help.






McCoy walked in just as they were getting ready for bed.  Perfect timing, he thought and his prick jerked in happy agreement.


Kirk was reading, lounging on the oversized berth nude, as usual.  It was his preferred state of dress in the privacy of their quarters when things were routine and he had no reason to expect to be called out.  "What's up, Bones?" he asked, looking over from his book.


"I'm horny," said McCoy.  "I was wondering if we could, uh--" He pumped his curved hand three times in a gesture unmistakable to any male humanoid in the Federation.  

Spock rolled his eyes and shugged his blue tunic back on.  "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have work to do in the labs."  He sat on the edge of the berth and bent to pull on his boots. 

"Aw, come on Spock, you're going to hurt my feelings if you keep this up.  Don't you want to stay and play?"  McCoy teased his fingers around Spock's nipple then down and over his chest and abs.  He stopped at the navel and circled it.  He ducked his head under the shirt and did that thing with his tongue that always drove Spock wild.  The other hand he stuck down his own pants.  There wasn't much better woody-fuel than a high-faloutin snooty Vulcan turned into a sex-crazed maniac under the talent of his tongue.


Spock moved him gently aside and stood.  "Vulcan's do not 'play', Doctor.  I will leave that to you humans.  It appears to be what you do best."


"'It seems to be what you do best,'" McCoy mimicked in a sorely inadequate falsetto.  "Blazes, Spock.  If I didn't love you, I honestly think I'd have to kill you.  Don't I at least get a kiss?"


Spock brushed his hand across McCoy's temple, lingered for just a moment over the meld points, then pulled away. 


McCoy caught his breath.  It stuck in his throat and wouldn't go down into his chest.  Something closed in  and squeezed around his heart.  A hot flush ran from head to groin and back again, turning him almost inside out.   Goddammit, why did that Vulcan have to win every time?


The mind-touch was gone.  He could breathe again.  His heart started up almost the same place it had left off.   Jim's arm was around his back with a hand upon his thigh.  His hard-on was gone along with the throb in his balls, leaving some warm, alien satisfaction in its place.  He looked up find Spock's eyes glued to his face. 


"I guess that'll do," McCoy gave it his best grumble, but even to him it sounded flat.  "See you in the morning?"


Spock nodded.  "I trust so.  Hopefully sooner."  He turned to leave.


"Hey, wait a minute.  Don't I get a kiss too?"  Jim swung his naked body around McCoy's back and stood with his arms out and waiting. 


Spock raised first an eyebrow and then one hand. 


Jim grabbed him by the ass and pulled him into a lip lock.  When they broke apart, Jim whispered in his ear, "How many times do I have to tell you: my ship--my rules."  He bit him playfully on one upswept eartip, then eased his mouth down to nuzzle his neck. 


With one hand he caressed Spock's basket, the other he pressed to the small of Spock's back, locking them firmly together. 

Spock caught his wrist and held it.  "I believe I get the point."


"But you won't stay?" said Jim.  He tried his hurt expression and left the disappointment evident in his voice.  He stepped back and displayed his erection to its best advantage, just in case the first ploy didn't work.


"I really do have duties awaiting.  Gentlemen, please--indulge yourselves without me."


"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something," said McCoy as he reached a hand to test Kirk's hardness.  He smiled.  Apparently he found it satisfactory.  Somewhere in the midst of this, Spock left.


McCoy moved his hand down to the balls and rolled them between his fingers.  Jim held his head and pulled him in.


"Suck me," Jim said in a voice that would not be denied.  McCoy scrambled to his knees, put mouth to flesh and sucked.


The smell of sex was all around him.  Fine hairs tickled his nose.  Strong thighs pumped against his face and shoulders, doing almost as much work as he was himself.  His balls ached and his dick was seriously pissed at having been left in the pants to fend for itself.  He fumbled for his trouser seal, but the manner in he was kneeling left no way. He tried to shift, to make room, but Jim held him down. 


"Suck me, suck me, suck me!"


Jim spouted off a stream of dirty talk telling what he wanted him to do, how he wanted him to do it, and how much he was going to like it when he did. McCoy's crotch throbbed too badly to bear to think about, so instead he concentrated on Jim.  He worshiped the dick, was mesmerized by the voice.  He wanted what Jim wanted, and Jim wanted to come. 


The words were foul, the acts described obscene, and--my god--it was turning him on!   On cue he grabbed Jim's ass, dug his fingers down in the crack.  He toyed with the rim, the tender skin, the sensitive hairs, and then, but not until ordered to, he inserted a tip. 


Jim staggered against his shoulder.  McCoy rolled his finger over the sphincter again.  He tasted salt and bitter far back on his tongue and the first drop rendered him utterly ravenous for more.  He wrapped his lips and thrust his tongue and began to suck in fervid earnest now.


He startled to feel Jim's grip on his shoulders, broad hands now pushing him not to him but away.  Jim stepped back, looked down at himself--erect, wet and glistening from McCoy's love--and then at the mouth, the face and at the man that had done this to him. 


Jim's face was flushed and congested.  His breath came hard, his pulse bounded in his neck, but there was no question, he was the one in control. 


Jim smiled and went to his knees.  He bent his head and ran his mouth over McCoy's bulge, tearing at the seal with his teeth.


"Careful!  You'll rip the uniform." McCoy squirmed against the surprise assault.

"I'm the captain; I'll get you more," Jim mumbled while he still worked with his mouth.  He found the dick and sucked it hard.  McCoy collapsed on his back with Jim lying over his crotch. 


Jim worked methodically at first, but not for long.  Patience was never his strong suit, but sensuality sure was.  He recruited hands and mouth and everything else he could think of to do their magic, until he had McCoy right where he wanted him. 


Then Jim slowly slid away.

McCoy grabbed himself.  "Jim, this is not a good time to be stopping."


"I know.  I want you to fuck me."  Jim grabbed a pillow of the bunk.  "Don't tell Spock, but that  whatchamacallit of his just doesn't do it for me.  There's nothing like having a nice full cock up your ass."

"Tell me about it," said McCoy rummaging across the shelf for the Astrolube.  He turned back around to find he captain of the Enterprise face down on the deck with his ass in the air and his head and chest pressed into a pillow, begging to be fucked. 


Sometimes McCoy was really glad he had gone into space.


He lubed himself, and started with a finger.

"Damnit Bones, quit screwing around!  Fuck me now, fuck me hard, and make it hurt."

Hell, captain's orders are the orders.  McCoy positioned himself and dove in.


It was a tie for who groaned the loudest.  "What are you waiting for?  Fuck me, you bitch!" Jim clamped the pillow harder against his chest.


"Oh Jim, you're so hot and tight.  If you want this to last more than two seconds, you're going to have to give me a minute."


Years ago Jim had decided to seek out doctors and scientists. They could be counted on to know where the prostate was.  Like usual, Bones's pressure was perfect, and it was clear that neither of them would last long.  Kirk held his dick.  McCoy held Kirk's ass.  They rocked together until they couldn't think straight enough to do so, and then they came McCoy first, Kirk at the sound of the scream that split his ear.


McCoy rolled off.  "You all right?"

"Perfect."  Kirk threw an arm across McCoy's middle and pulled him back.  "You?"

"Yeah.   Perfect."  They kissed for a rather long time.


Breaking for breath, they discussed the bunk, but it seemed like too much trouble.  They ended up settling where they were with some shared arrangement of the pillow between them.


"Have you talked to Spock about the tri-union?" McCoy asked.


"Yeah.  He still says he's going to marry the girl."

"Fuck," said McCoy very quietly.


Jim kept his tone neutral like he did whenever announcing any desperate last minute harebrained plan to the crew.  "He says it's meaningless--a family obligation.  Nothing will change, just a long weekend away every seven years.  The clan will raise any kids, and the three of us continue like we are for 6.98 years out of 7."


"Nothing will change, my ass!  It's a mental union, Jim.  There are physical and chemical changes in the brain of linked telepaths. It will change his entire brain.  Don't tell Spock I said he was guilty of wishful thinking, but there's a big difference between the way he wants it to happen, and the way it will happen."


"I know."  Jim's voice was so calm.  "We have six years to change his mind."


McCoy drew in a nasal breath with something that sounded alarmingly like a sniffle.  Kirk snatched him to his chest and held him there in arms of iron.  "I know.  We have to change his mind.  We will."


Moments do not last forever, and so neither did this one.  It didn't have to.  It had served its purpose.


McCoy pulled away, stood up and made for the head.  He wet himself a towel to clean up with, leaving the messiest parts for last.  His voice had recovered most of its usual gruffness when he spoke again.  "Well, do you think you can at least talk him into coming back to bed?  I don't want to sleep beside you; you kick."

Kirk headed for the shower.  He had it on good authority that in fact, he slept like a log.  "Ask him yourself.  He'll be in the biolab." 

"You ask him; you have more pull with that green-blooded bastard than I do."


Jim looked out from the doorway of the head. He had a dentaclense in his hand and a funny expression on his face. "Ranks aside, I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you."





"Huh."  McCoy tucked himself back together. "You know, Jim, six years is a long time.  A lot can change.  Six years ago I was married to Jocelyn doing turn-your-head-and-cough personnel physicals all day long dirtside, and now look."


Jim muttered something, but the dentaclense obscured the words.


McCoy checked himself in the mirror.  Unlike Jim, he always felt better, more competent in uniform.   Surely between the two of them there was nothing they couldn't accomplish in six years.  "Biolab, you said?"


"Yeah.  And, Bones, it would help if you dropped the stupid jokes."


"They aren't stupid jokes; they're very good jokes.  It just that copper-toned computer has no sense of humor."  McCoy kissed him on the forehead and even though no one else was present, he dropped his voice very low. "And don't tell him how I took the news, okay?  He'll never let me live it down.  He'd marry the wench just to piss me off."


Jim laughed.  "Possibly."


McCoy slapped him on the ass and pulled away.  "Trust me; I'll get him up here.  Back in a minute."

Whistling, McCoy went out the door.






September, 2004