caitri | Fic: A Helping Hand, Kirk/McCoy, NC-17

Title: A Helping Hand
Author: caitri
Rating: NC-17 (Language, Sex)
Pairings: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 1,738
Summary: Warning: In case erection lasts longer than four hours, see medical personnel immediately.
Warnings: Explicit sex, language.
Disclaimer: I know this may come as a shock, but I am not, amazing as it may seem, Gene Roddenberry, J.J. Abrams, Paramount or Bad Robot. Just so you know.

Acknowledgements: Written for and beta'd by

gadgetorious for her new blog. Inspired by this screencap:

A Helping Hand

“Good God, man,” Leonard says at he looks down at Jim’s … problem. “What did you do to yourself now?”

Most men who come into the Starfleet Medical on-campus Emergency Room with a severe case of priapism are beet-red with embarrassment at this point. Jim Kirk, however, remains outwardly cool and unaffected—in fact, the only indications that he’s not his obnoxious, normal self are the beads of sweat on his forehead and the tenting of his regulation trousers. “It’s a long story, Bones,” Jim says with a grin.

“I can see that,” Leonard says despite himself, surprising a snort of amusement from his friend. “Look, you asked for me specifically, so either tell me what I’m dealing with here or I’m calling Doctor Young—who, by the way, isn’t, and will be considerably less kind in administrating treatment.”

“Seriously, Bones?” Jim asks. “Someone around here is worse with a hypo than you?” He laughs again, wiping some more sweat away from his face.

“Infant,” Leonard says automatically. “Now out with it.” Jim starts to tug at his pants. “I meant with your—what you took,” he says hurriedly, but it’s too late. “Jesus Christ!” he adds, both in annoyance at Jim’s attitude and—and irritation (no way that’s admiration, no way, no sirree) as Jim’s newly unbuttoned pants reveal a large, flushed, erect cock.

Jim’s expression might have been one of pride mixed with embarrassment. “It was Romulan fly,” he says. “Gaila got some and we were having a great time, but it’s been over four hours and—“ He breaks off, shrugging.

“Jesus, Jim!” Leonard says. “First of all, Romulan fly is a fucking illegal substance, okay?” He’s angry now, both at the risk that Jim took in trying the damn stuff as well as how he seems to have no problem in acquiring or experimenting with controlled drugs. “Second of all, do you even have any idea of the consequences of using shit like that?”

“Three hours of awesome sex and then a sore dick?” Jim offers, deadpan.

Leonard scowls. “Heart attacks, asshole,” he says. He’s already putting together a hypospray with some pseudoephedrine. “Blood clots.” He administers the hypo sharply and Jim yelps in pain. “Gangrene.”

“You can get gangrene of the dick?” Jim stares at him. “Are you kidding me? No fucking way!”

“Just think, Jim,” Leonard says with false sweetness, “if you’d waited too long we would have had to amputate little Jim.”

“Amputate?” Jim echoes, squeaking. Leonard nods. Jim stares at him for a solid minute, then snaps out of it. “And what do you mean little?” he adds in typical egotistical outrage. “There is nothing little about my dick!”

Privately, Leonard agrees, but he would prefer a thousand shuttle-flight sim exams to ever admitting this to Jim. “The swelling should go down in about an hour,” he says instead. “You should probably wait here,” he adds sadistically. “Just in case there’s any additional side effects. I am going to go home and have several well-deserved drinks.” It’s true, too, and he smiles in satisfaction as he puts his tricorder away.

“Bones!” Jim says. “You’re leaving me? You can’t do that! I’m your patient! Your best friend!” More quietly then. “Come on, man.”

Leonard looks at the younger man, then, and what he sees there surprises him. Jim’s pupils are dilated, the blue irises thin, and it’s not just from the drugs. Leonard is a doctor, and he knows what fear looks like.

For whatever reason, Jim Kirk is afraid to be left alone in Medical.

Fuck. Leonard thinks wistfully of his bunk and of the bottle of bourbon stashed under it (well away from blue-eyed, nosy cadets with no sense of personal boundaries), but he’s already putting his stuff down again. He’ll wonder some other time why he has this damn co-dependent need where Jim Kirk is concerned.

“Alright, fine,” he says. “But you owe me for this.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim says. The smug grin is back in seconds, and if Leonard didn’t know his friend so well he would almost have thought that terrified expression from seconds ago was an act. “So,” he continues, nodding down to where his cock still juts from his pants, “wanna help a guy out here?”

Leonard is pissed off again for a second. Of all the shameless— And then he looks at his friend, and something clicks in his head.

Jim’s eyes are impossibly blue and seemingly guileless as they look up at him. Seemingly, my ass.

Knowing that he may get in trouble for this but too irritated to not, he takes Jim’s hot, hard cock in his hand and grips it tightly. Jim gasps in surprise and pleasure.

“Bones,” he groans softly.

“You orchestrated this little stunt,” Leonard says. He gives Jim’s shaft a single stroke. “You did this on purpose.”

Jim’s eyes are wide in shock. “No, Bones,” he says quickly—way too quickly. “Why would I do that?” But the quick downward glance to his cock in Leonard’s hand gives the lie.

Leonard moves his fingers deftly over Jim’s slit, smearing a bit of precum over the head. Jim is breathing hard, moaning slightly. “That’s what I’d like to know,” he says into Jim’s ear. Jim is half- arched over the biobed, trembling. Leonard stands back, letting go of Jim. The younger man exhales in frustration. “Tell me.”

“Jesus, Bones,” Jim says. The two men stare at each other. “Okay, fine,” Jim says at last.

Leonard waits patiently, but isn’t prepared for what he’s about to hear. “I’ve wanted to get in your pants forever,” Jim says. “But nothing’s worked.” Leonard blinks at that, wondering what the hell he’s referring to, but Jim keeps going. “Gaila thought this might help speed things along. She was partially right,” he adds unabashedly. “I got your hands down my pants at least.” Leonard stares at him silently for several long minutes, until Jim starts to shift uneasily. “I’m sorry, Bones.” Silence. “Okay?” More silence. “Fuck. Say something.” Pause. “Please?”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” Leonard is surprised to hear his own voice, somehow.

Jim shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says.

“But using catharides was okay by you?”

Jim stares at him.

“The drugs?” Leonard clarifies.

“Gaila thought it would work,” Jim answers stubbornly. “I’m sorry, okay? I should have known better.” He looks down, then quickly away as the thing that got him into this mess is still hanging out there for them both to see. “I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested. I was just—stupid.” He starts buttoning up his pants again. “Look, are we going to be okay?” he asks hesitantly. His expression is open, terrified, and Leonard feels something inside of him melt.

“Jim,” Leonard says, taking Jim’s face into his hands gently, “you are an idiot.” And then he kisses him.

Jim’s mouth under his is slack in shock at first, but then he recovers and begins to kiss Leonard back wholeheartedly. Their tongues dart against one another playfully, and Jim’s hands roam across Leonard’s back, pulling him closer.

“There are better ways of seduction than Romulan fly,” Leonard mutters when they come up for air. His fingers unbutton Jim’s pants again, taking out the abused member in question. It is a dark, unabashed red, the veins of it still prominent but noticeably less swollen than it was earlier. He grips it in his hand tightly, pumping it up and down.

“Tell me—ah! Tell me what you want and I’ll do better—oh! Do better next—next time?” Jim asks, question punctuated with groans as Leonard works at him furiously.

Leonard is grateful that visitation offices are soundproof. It appears that Jim may well be a screamer.

“Next time you and I are gonna go out,” Leonard says softly in Jim’s ear, moving his hand slowly as he speaks now. “Not to one of those crummy bar dives you like so much. Out. And then we’re gonna go back to my place, and I’m going to undress you very, very slowly. I like to take my time with things, Jim,” he continues as his hand continues to gently pump his friend’s shaft. The younger man is arched against the biobed again, head thrown back and eyes closed in an expression that could easily have been mistaken for one of pain.

“I’m going to take my time with you, darlin’,” Leonard continues, and Jim moans at the drawled endearment. “I’m gonna work you over long and sweet until you’re begging for it. I’m going to use some oil, make you slippery as an eel, and by the time I’m done you’ll be slicked up every which way. Do you like the sound of that, Jim?”

His only answer is another inarticulate moan. “Bones!”

Still working at Jim’s cock, and ignoring the throbbing desire of his own, Leonard continues mercilessly. “I’ll go down on you first,” he says. “And after you’ve come and you’re all pliant, and sticky with the come and covered in oil, I’m going to roll you over, and start playing with your ass.”

Jim’s breathing is hard and ragged. He is on the edge of climax, and Leonard feels suddenly, inexplicably smug for having brought this crowing rooster of a cadet to an inarticulate mess.

“First one finger,” he whispers, “then two, then three. And then my cock,” he promises. “And I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. Fuck you until all you can think of is my name.” Jim cries out at that, and Leonard’s hand is abruptly covered in hot come. “Darlin’,” he adds for good measure.

Jim’s breathing heavy, slumped against the biobed. Leonard pushes him back so that Jim’s sitting on it, face flushed, eyes closed. “Jesus Christ, Bones,” he murmurs. “Promise?”

Leonard chuckles a little as he washes up. “Next time talk to me, not Gaila,” he says.

“I dunno,” Jim says, “I think I kinda owe her like twelve bouquets of roses now. And maybe a vibrator.” He shakes his head. “Jesus.” He pauses again. “How does tomorrow sound?”

Leonard quirks an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“For dinner?” Jim clarifies. Then his expression takes on a mischievous expression as he takes in Leonard’s own, not inconsiderable ‘problem.’

“Hey, Bones,” he continues, voice eager, “you need a hand with that?”

THE END.

Author’s Gratuitous Note

This is my very first PWP. Dude.