Title: In Which Jim Sent a Message Fandom: Star Trek XI Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Cadet Kirk/Doctor McCoy Acknowledgements:

Written for <lj user="yeomanrand">'s prompt, "Kirk/McCoy, How about sex under the stars?" <i>Disclaimer:</i> None of these characters or their settings belong to me. <lj-cut text="Jim stands at ease, hands folded behind his back, and tamps his smirk into the corner of his cheek..."> Jim stands at ease, hands folded behind his back, and tamps his smirk into the corner of his cheek as he watches Bones's swinging, determined strut across the atrium. Bones would scoff if he heard Jim call it 'strutting', would hoist a disdainful eyebrow and proclaim that he Walks like he Needs To Get Places, Unlike Some People, but it's a strut all right, in every lope of those long, long legs, every flex of those thick thighs and every swing of his strong arms from those square, broad shoulders. Jim loves watching Bones walk, especially towards him, the wind of his passing lifting his bangs like they're breathing, the lines and curves of his face intent but calm. The conference is good for him, Jim thinks, getting to be just a doctor again for a bit and not a cadet saddled with harumscarum classmates, not least his favoritest roommate. Of course, that just makes climbing back into the saddle all the more fun, Jim thinks, and keeps that smirk firmly squished down. "Cadet Kirk," Bones says with all serious sincerity, "I came as soon as I could." His expression is all business except for his

eyes under lowered brows, dappled green and brown sparking gold. "Doctor McCoy," Jim responds, and <i>does not smirk</i>, go him, "if you will accompany me?" They pace together around the corner, down the halls Jim mapped out earlier and through the service door into the alley between the Starfleet Med buildings, surrounded by pallets and huge boxes and other general cover. Jim turns to push the door shut, and the nanosecond after it clicks into place Bones slams his hands onto Jim's chest, gripping two fistfuls of uniform as he shoves Jim up against the door, growling as he kisses him in a headbutting clash of teeth. God, it's awesome. Jim digs his fingers into Bones's shoulders as he laughs, shapes his sweetly aching lips to Bones's and pushes a thigh between his as he kisses back. "You," Bones growls against Jim's lips, mashed halfway to incomprehensibility, "are," between hard kisses that knock Jim's head against the door and bang their chests together, "a menace." He bites Jim's lip and rears back, holding Jim against the door with the gorgeous crush of his body as he scrabbles his trousers open. "Jim, you can't fucking <i>text</i> me stuff like that, I'm at a <i>medical conference!</i> Every time I blushed everyone around me kept trying to <i>diagnose</i> me!" "I might possibly believe you if you weren't molesting me in an alley," Jim points out as reasonably as he can while all breathless and tingly-lipped and half-drunk on Bones's cologne and musk. Bones growls again, eyes gleaming in the low streetlights, and mashes Jim up against the door all the harder, his tongue storming Jim's mouth as his long skilled fingers haul Jim's uniform pants open and dick out, enfolding it warmly from the cool night air. "God, yeah, c'mon," Jim

mutters against Bones's hot plush mouth, clutching his shoulders tighter, keeping his fingers from diving up into Bones's hair by an epic force of will, gasping as Bones gets their dicks together and the shock of pleasure reverberates through both their bodies. "Jesus," Bones swears into Jim's cheek, and Jim feels the press of teeth that want oh so badly to bite. "I shouldn't be out here," but he shoves three big knuckly fingers into Jim's mouth and Jim laughs around them before he starts licking, biting down lightly on resilient delicious skin. "You shouldn't," he carries on against the hinge of Jim's jaw, "aren't you working <i>security</i> for this shindig?" "Don't you feel secure?" Jim mumbles around Bones's fingers, and Bones grunts a question mark and pulls them out. He repeats himself breathlessly as Bones folds that warm wet hand around their dicks, adding, "I do, you got me." Bones looks him full in the face for that, something molten in his night-dark eyes. "Jim," he sighs, and Jim's chest seizes up as Bones kisses him again, lush and deep, he groans as Bones starts stroking, fast and rough and glorious. "God <i>dammit</i>, Jim," because he will bitch until he physically cannot speak, "I'm in Starfleet, I can't pull crazy stunts like this..." he trails off, shoving his face against the side of Jim's throat. Jim's eyes fall open, but he's too distracted by the galvanic crackle of sex along his nerves to really see the purple-dark patch of city sky above him, until the top half of Orion snaps into focus, swinging above Starfleet Medical and San Francisco and two cadets frantically fucking in a narrow alley. "I got you," he murmurs against Bones's sleek hair. "I got

you, Bones, and we're going up there." Bones chokes out a questioning moan that soon becomes just a moan, full of bone-deep ecstasy as he starts to come, and Jim grins fiercely at the universe, staring up at the stars as he comes into Bones's hand, in Bones's arms. "O my fucking omnipotent Lord," Bones swears prayerfully against Jim's skin, and presses a kiss to his jaw before pulling back. "Gah, what a mess." "We'll be okay," Jim tells him as he digs up a tissue and presses it into Bones's hand, light streaming under his skin and his cheeks aching with happiness. "We're okay." Bones looks at him again, belief in his eyes, and answers Jim's smile with a brilliant flash of grin.