ensigncelery (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ensigncelery) wrote2010-08-25 04:42 am
ensigncelery) wrote2010-08-25 04:42 am
Entry tags:
A Failed Attempt at Hand!Porn - Kirk/McCoy
A Failed Attempt at Hand!Porn
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy (yes, you read that right)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,052
Prompt: Here at the kink meme!
Notes: Anon asked for porn and first times, but it wouldn't happen! ;-;
Another wince gracing McCoy’s gruff features brought a lopsided grin to Jim’s face as he watched his friend fumble a bit while picking up his glass.
“Told you all that hypo sneak attacking would come back to bite you in the ass,” he said, taking a sip from his own glass. “Your hands are cramped up again, aren’t they?”
“Fuck off,” came the grumble of a reply.
“Aww, c’mon, Bones!” Jim set his glass down on the table before sliding gracefully to his feet and circling around to stand at his friend’s side. “Let me take a look at them, huh?”
Reaching down to grab a hand earned Jim a dirty look and McCoy yanking his hand out of his friend’s reach.
“What the hell’re you doing?”
“Just,” Jim paused to rub a hand over his eyes before looking away from his friend’s accusing glare. “I was going to try and rub ‘em a little, try and see if I could help the soreness some.” He glanced back, taking in the confused stare. “Let me see?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Bones held up one of his hands in defeat, mumbling something along the lines of, “You’d better not fuck it up worse, Jim,” and a roll of the man’s eyes when Jim’s face lit up with a pleased grin.
McCoy’s grumbling quickly turned into wide eyes and a sound of surprise when he found that, instead of irritating his straining joints, Jim’s little massage actually turned out to be quite pleasant. In fact, Bones had no idea his hands could produce sensations like that.
By the time Jim had drawn McCoy’s other hand into his own, Bones was fighting his body’s response to produce moans and whimpers of pleasure. He did allow his eyes to slip shut, though, and a few quiet hums of contentment worked their way through his lips. Jim figured that, if he took the time to stroke at his friend’s hands afterwards, he might actually get him to purr.
Instead, once he had worked his way along every knuckle and a few times over the palm, Jim let go of the hand and moved back to his seat with a cheerful, “Need a refill, Bones?”
---
The only thing worse than having persistent aches and pains in his hands—his goddamn hands that he goddamn needed for his goddamn job—was having persistent aches and pains that reared their annoying heads during a major surgery. And damned if he wasn’t the one stuck doing the paperwork, too.
Bones allowed himself a frustrated sigh before clenching his teeth and working his way through the report, his knuckles screaming in pain after all the abuse they had suffered throughout the day.
He was almost finished when the door to his office slid open without warning, admitting his best friend, captain, and jackass-that-he-really-didn’t-have-time-f
“Bones! How’s Ensign Clark doing?”
Cheerful. Too goddamn cheerful. McCoy was tempted to throw his padd at that huge, annoying head.
“You could ask him yourself, you know,” he grouched instead. “His leg’s busted, not his mouth.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to come see you,” Jim said with a dismissive wave of his hand, propping his hip against McCoy’s desk and leaning forward into his personal space. “You seem more pissed than usual today. One of your nurses looked absolutely scandalized when she stopped by the mess earlier.”
“It’s nothing, Jim,” Bones said, determinedly not looking up from his padd. “I’m just a little tired after having to save another crewmember from one of those giant lizard monsters that seem to enjoy following you around.”
“Your hands are sore again, aren’t they?”
“Damn it, Jim!” He slammed his padd down, swinging his head around to glare at his friend. “What is your fascination with my hands? Yes, they’re sore! I use my hands for everything, so of course they’d be sore! It’s frustrating enough to not be able to use them properly without you constantly pestering me about it!”
“I just worry about you, Bones,” came the quiet reply, making McCoy stop his fuming for a moment to focus on sad blue eyes. “I know you need your hands to work, and I know you hate feeling useless when they’re not working. That’s why I’m so stuck on it. I want to help you out.”
“Oh.”
Trying to play off the moment, McCoy slumped back into his chair, wringing the offending hands together and wincing at the twinges of pain that shot up his arm. “So, your idea of helping is to grope my hands?”
“Not groping!” Jim cried, flailing around a little in mock-hurt. “No! I am massaging them.” He grinned, leaning forward again and holding out his hand, waiting to accept McCoy’s into it. “I looked it up when I noticed yours hurting. I wanted to see if there was a way to help them.”
The eyebrow came up, but Bones placed his hand in his friend’s nonetheless, allowing him to start rubbing the first set of knuckles slowly, coaxing the pain out of them.
“You looked it up?”
“Well, yeah.” A distracted reply as Jim focused all of his attention on his friend’s fingers. “I didn’t want to make it worse, did I? Besides, you’d never let me live it down if I managed to screw up something like a hand massage.”
Despite his earlier protests, McCoy once again found himself being lulled into a relaxed state by his friend’s massage. He had never before seen Jim put so much effort and focus into something that wasn’t his precious ship, and it was more than a little flattering to be on the receiving end of such attention. Mulling over such thoughts, it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Bones’ body started reacting to Jim’s touch again. This time, though, his dick decided to get in on the reaction, twitching with interest against his briefs and sending a shot of panic through his spine, making him jerk his hand slightly in his friend’s grip.
“Sorry, sorry!” Jim quickly shifted his grip on McCoy’s hand, apparently taking the sharp movement to mean he had somehow irritated the cramping in McCoy’s palm. He decided not to correct him, instead letting out a small grunt in response as he shifted his weight a bit to relieve the tension created by his sudden problem.
What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just touching my goddamn hand…
---
As bad an idea as he told himself it was, McCoy stopped protesting when Jim showed up to offer him hand massages to alleviate the chronic cramping that came with the floods of patients and paperwork. And, more than that, after awhile McCoy was soon the one approaching Jim about it. He tried to tell himself that it was just to help him work easier, a relief of the pains that would interfere with his job, but he knew the real reason. As sick as it sounded to him, it turned him on to have his friend so focused on him, on any part of him. And, really, it just felt so good to have the aches and pains worked out of his hands. He hadn’t known they were so sensitive before Jim started making them that way.
Fuck, he was starting to think that anywhere Jim touched would be sensitive. He just wanted Jim to touch him.
Where the hell is this even coming from?
---
“Back for more, I see!”
McCoy rolled his eyes as he stalked across the room, collapsing in a slump onto Jim’s bed and holding up his hand, fingers splayed, for his friend’s inspection. “Yeah, yeah. Just c’mere and fix it.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Jim grinned, pulling up a chair and snatching Bones’ hand, running careful fingers over it to judge where best to start. He’d somehow gotten even more skilled at taking care of McCoy’s cramping fingers, able to seek and lay waste to every pain in his hand in mere minutes. The massaging, much to Bones’ pleasure and frustration, now mostly continued for show. And, he suspected, so Jim could coax as many pleased sounds out of his friend as he could manage.
Bones was just starting to melt into the mattress from pleasure when Jim opened his big mouth and screwed it all up.
“You know, Bones, I can massage more than your hands if you’d like.”
“M’hands are the only thing’s botherin’ me, Jim,” he drawled out through the haze of contentment that had settled over him. He was so out of it, in fact, that he didn’t even notice when Jim leaned closer, face inches from his own, to place a palm firmly against the solid outline of his cock through regulation black.
“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m sitting.”
Bones’ eyes flew open and he jumped so hard he almost knocked his head against Jim’s. He scrambled backwards onto the bed—and wasn’t that awkward?—to get away from the leering gaze of his best friend.
“Look, Jim, that’s not… It’s not like…”
“Not like what?” A quirk of the lips. The bastard was laughing at him! “Not like you’re getting turned on from me touching you? You’re not imaging my hands on you in other places, Bones?”
McCoy let out a growl of annoyance before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pulling himself to his feet.
“Fuck you, Jim!” He half shouted, storming his way past his friend on his way to the door, intent on making his way as quickly as possible to his own quarters, perhaps to drown his shame and embarrassment in that bottle of whiskey he had in his closet.
“Whoah, whoah, hold on!” Jim’s hand shot out to grab at his arm, pulling him around to face him. Jim didn’t even flinch at the scathing glare his friend fixed on him, instead softening his features into a rather sheepish smile. “I wasn’t trying to piss you off, Bones! I was trying to, I don’t know, show you I was interested, too?”
“Sounded a lot like you were makin’ fun of me.”
“Was that a pout, Bones?” He ignored the snarl that earned him and trudged on. “No, come on, really. I’m just as interested as you are, Bones. Probably more interested, considering I’m the one that started all this.”
That made McCoy pause, blinking slowly at the man in front of him.
“Wait. You started all of this hand groping business to try and get into my pants?”
“I like to think of it as getting into your good graces.”
Bones yanked his arm out of his friend’s grip, a sour expression gracing his face. “Jesus, Jim, if you think I’m just going to let you treat me like another one of your space hussies…!”
“No, Bones, not like that!” Jim grabbed at his friend’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye as he continued. “I mean, yeah, after I noticed you reacting like you do I kind of got my hopes up about the whole sleeping with each other thing, but I really was just trying to help you out. I just want to make you feel good, Bones, even if it’s just massaging your hands every once in awhile. Please don’t freak out on me, okay? If you don’t want to do anything, I won’t try it again, alright? I just… I don’t want to fuck this up.”
He trailed off near the end of his rant, lowering his eyes to stare at the carpeting. Bones furrowed his brows in thought as he felt his friend’s hands slip off of his shoulders. His eyes clenched shut for a moment before he set his jaw and let out a resigned breath.
“Guess I’m glad, then,” he said softly. “’Cause, let me tell you, a hand massage is one hell of a lame way to seduce a man.”
Jim peeked his gaze up to look cautiously into his friend’s eyes, mouth still quirked in a disbelieving way. “That a no to the sex, then?”
A sigh. “Depends. You gonna follow through with that promise for another massage?”
Jim flashed him an almost unbearably bright grin in response. “If that’s what it takes, Bones, I’ll give you the best damned massage of your life.”
-----
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy (yes, you read that right)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2,052
Prompt: Here at the kink meme!
Notes: Anon asked for porn and first times, but it wouldn't happen! ;-;
Another wince gracing McCoy’s gruff features brought a lopsided grin to Jim’s face as he watched his friend fumble a bit while picking up his glass.
“Told you all that hypo sneak attacking would come back to bite you in the ass,” he said, taking a sip from his own glass. “Your hands are cramped up again, aren’t they?”
“Fuck off,” came the grumble of a reply.
“Aww, c’mon, Bones!” Jim set his glass down on the table before sliding gracefully to his feet and circling around to stand at his friend’s side. “Let me take a look at them, huh?”
Reaching down to grab a hand earned Jim a dirty look and McCoy yanking his hand out of his friend’s reach.
“What the hell’re you doing?”
“Just,” Jim paused to rub a hand over his eyes before looking away from his friend’s accusing glare. “I was going to try and rub ‘em a little, try and see if I could help the soreness some.” He glanced back, taking in the confused stare. “Let me see?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Bones held up one of his hands in defeat, mumbling something along the lines of, “You’d better not fuck it up worse, Jim,” and a roll of the man’s eyes when Jim’s face lit up with a pleased grin.
McCoy’s grumbling quickly turned into wide eyes and a sound of surprise when he found that, instead of irritating his straining joints, Jim’s little massage actually turned out to be quite pleasant. In fact, Bones had no idea his hands could produce sensations like that.
By the time Jim had drawn McCoy’s other hand into his own, Bones was fighting his body’s response to produce moans and whimpers of pleasure. He did allow his eyes to slip shut, though, and a few quiet hums of contentment worked their way through his lips. Jim figured that, if he took the time to stroke at his friend’s hands afterwards, he might actually get him to purr.
Instead, once he had worked his way along every knuckle and a few times over the palm, Jim let go of the hand and moved back to his seat with a cheerful, “Need a refill, Bones?”
---
The only thing worse than having persistent aches and pains in his hands—his goddamn hands that he goddamn needed for his goddamn job—was having persistent aches and pains that reared their annoying heads during a major surgery. And damned if he wasn’t the one stuck doing the paperwork, too.
Bones allowed himself a frustrated sigh before clenching his teeth and working his way through the report, his knuckles screaming in pain after all the abuse they had suffered throughout the day.
He was almost finished when the door to his office slid open without warning, admitting his best friend, captain, and jackass-that-he-really-didn’t-have-time-f
“Bones! How’s Ensign Clark doing?”
Cheerful. Too goddamn cheerful. McCoy was tempted to throw his padd at that huge, annoying head.
“You could ask him yourself, you know,” he grouched instead. “His leg’s busted, not his mouth.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to come see you,” Jim said with a dismissive wave of his hand, propping his hip against McCoy’s desk and leaning forward into his personal space. “You seem more pissed than usual today. One of your nurses looked absolutely scandalized when she stopped by the mess earlier.”
“It’s nothing, Jim,” Bones said, determinedly not looking up from his padd. “I’m just a little tired after having to save another crewmember from one of those giant lizard monsters that seem to enjoy following you around.”
“Your hands are sore again, aren’t they?”
“Damn it, Jim!” He slammed his padd down, swinging his head around to glare at his friend. “What is your fascination with my hands? Yes, they’re sore! I use my hands for everything, so of course they’d be sore! It’s frustrating enough to not be able to use them properly without you constantly pestering me about it!”
“I just worry about you, Bones,” came the quiet reply, making McCoy stop his fuming for a moment to focus on sad blue eyes. “I know you need your hands to work, and I know you hate feeling useless when they’re not working. That’s why I’m so stuck on it. I want to help you out.”
“Oh.”
Trying to play off the moment, McCoy slumped back into his chair, wringing the offending hands together and wincing at the twinges of pain that shot up his arm. “So, your idea of helping is to grope my hands?”
“Not groping!” Jim cried, flailing around a little in mock-hurt. “No! I am massaging them.” He grinned, leaning forward again and holding out his hand, waiting to accept McCoy’s into it. “I looked it up when I noticed yours hurting. I wanted to see if there was a way to help them.”
The eyebrow came up, but Bones placed his hand in his friend’s nonetheless, allowing him to start rubbing the first set of knuckles slowly, coaxing the pain out of them.
“You looked it up?”
“Well, yeah.” A distracted reply as Jim focused all of his attention on his friend’s fingers. “I didn’t want to make it worse, did I? Besides, you’d never let me live it down if I managed to screw up something like a hand massage.”
Despite his earlier protests, McCoy once again found himself being lulled into a relaxed state by his friend’s massage. He had never before seen Jim put so much effort and focus into something that wasn’t his precious ship, and it was more than a little flattering to be on the receiving end of such attention. Mulling over such thoughts, it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Bones’ body started reacting to Jim’s touch again. This time, though, his dick decided to get in on the reaction, twitching with interest against his briefs and sending a shot of panic through his spine, making him jerk his hand slightly in his friend’s grip.
“Sorry, sorry!” Jim quickly shifted his grip on McCoy’s hand, apparently taking the sharp movement to mean he had somehow irritated the cramping in McCoy’s palm. He decided not to correct him, instead letting out a small grunt in response as he shifted his weight a bit to relieve the tension created by his sudden problem.
What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just touching my goddamn hand…
---
As bad an idea as he told himself it was, McCoy stopped protesting when Jim showed up to offer him hand massages to alleviate the chronic cramping that came with the floods of patients and paperwork. And, more than that, after awhile McCoy was soon the one approaching Jim about it. He tried to tell himself that it was just to help him work easier, a relief of the pains that would interfere with his job, but he knew the real reason. As sick as it sounded to him, it turned him on to have his friend so focused on him, on any part of him. And, really, it just felt so good to have the aches and pains worked out of his hands. He hadn’t known they were so sensitive before Jim started making them that way.
Fuck, he was starting to think that anywhere Jim touched would be sensitive. He just wanted Jim to touch him.
Where the hell is this even coming from?
---
“Back for more, I see!”
McCoy rolled his eyes as he stalked across the room, collapsing in a slump onto Jim’s bed and holding up his hand, fingers splayed, for his friend’s inspection. “Yeah, yeah. Just c’mere and fix it.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Jim grinned, pulling up a chair and snatching Bones’ hand, running careful fingers over it to judge where best to start. He’d somehow gotten even more skilled at taking care of McCoy’s cramping fingers, able to seek and lay waste to every pain in his hand in mere minutes. The massaging, much to Bones’ pleasure and frustration, now mostly continued for show. And, he suspected, so Jim could coax as many pleased sounds out of his friend as he could manage.
Bones was just starting to melt into the mattress from pleasure when Jim opened his big mouth and screwed it all up.
“You know, Bones, I can massage more than your hands if you’d like.”
“M’hands are the only thing’s botherin’ me, Jim,” he drawled out through the haze of contentment that had settled over him. He was so out of it, in fact, that he didn’t even notice when Jim leaned closer, face inches from his own, to place a palm firmly against the solid outline of his cock through regulation black.
“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m sitting.”
Bones’ eyes flew open and he jumped so hard he almost knocked his head against Jim’s. He scrambled backwards onto the bed—and wasn’t that awkward?—to get away from the leering gaze of his best friend.
“Look, Jim, that’s not… It’s not like…”
“Not like what?” A quirk of the lips. The bastard was laughing at him! “Not like you’re getting turned on from me touching you? You’re not imaging my hands on you in other places, Bones?”
McCoy let out a growl of annoyance before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pulling himself to his feet.
“Fuck you, Jim!” He half shouted, storming his way past his friend on his way to the door, intent on making his way as quickly as possible to his own quarters, perhaps to drown his shame and embarrassment in that bottle of whiskey he had in his closet.
“Whoah, whoah, hold on!” Jim’s hand shot out to grab at his arm, pulling him around to face him. Jim didn’t even flinch at the scathing glare his friend fixed on him, instead softening his features into a rather sheepish smile. “I wasn’t trying to piss you off, Bones! I was trying to, I don’t know, show you I was interested, too?”
“Sounded a lot like you were makin’ fun of me.”
“Was that a pout, Bones?” He ignored the snarl that earned him and trudged on. “No, come on, really. I’m just as interested as you are, Bones. Probably more interested, considering I’m the one that started all this.”
That made McCoy pause, blinking slowly at the man in front of him.
“Wait. You started all of this hand groping business to try and get into my pants?”
“I like to think of it as getting into your good graces.”
Bones yanked his arm out of his friend’s grip, a sour expression gracing his face. “Jesus, Jim, if you think I’m just going to let you treat me like another one of your space hussies…!”
“No, Bones, not like that!” Jim grabbed at his friend’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye as he continued. “I mean, yeah, after I noticed you reacting like you do I kind of got my hopes up about the whole sleeping with each other thing, but I really was just trying to help you out. I just want to make you feel good, Bones, even if it’s just massaging your hands every once in awhile. Please don’t freak out on me, okay? If you don’t want to do anything, I won’t try it again, alright? I just… I don’t want to fuck this up.”
He trailed off near the end of his rant, lowering his eyes to stare at the carpeting. Bones furrowed his brows in thought as he felt his friend’s hands slip off of his shoulders. His eyes clenched shut for a moment before he set his jaw and let out a resigned breath.
“Guess I’m glad, then,” he said softly. “’Cause, let me tell you, a hand massage is one hell of a lame way to seduce a man.”
Jim peeked his gaze up to look cautiously into his friend’s eyes, mouth still quirked in a disbelieving way. “That a no to the sex, then?”
A sigh. “Depends. You gonna follow through with that promise for another massage?”
Jim flashed him an almost unbearably bright grin in response. “If that’s what it takes, Bones, I’ll give you the best damned massage of your life.”
-----