[fic] Blasphemer

[akainagi]

Title: Blasphemer
Author: akainagi
Genre/Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Kirk/McCoy
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Summary: They won. So why is everything falling apart? Spawned by word wars over at jim_and_bones.



It should feel somewhat more sacrilegious than it does.

A race annihilated. A planet destroyed. Thousands of comrades dead, floating in the black. An entire armada decimated.

And here Jim is, being ground against the wall of his borrowed quarters, another man’s tongue down his throat. His best friend tastes of antiseptic and exhaustion, and the man’s dick is right there, hard against his hip.

It should feel blasphemous. Or wrong. Or right. Or something other than desperately, achingly empty. Jim has been wanting to do this for the better part of three years. And to have it happen now? Like this? He would sob in frustration if he wasn’t so busy moaning with need.

And he is moaning. And whimpering shamelessly in between wet, bruising kisses that are all teeth and tongue and aggression. Those skilled surgeon's hands are snaking up under Jim’s shirt, and then diving down to claw at the fastening of his pants and (fuck fuck fuck what are they doing?) suddenly that hand is hot and heavy around the length of him and that’s when he realizes that he needs to participate in this travesty as well.

He wrenches those too-clever hands away and does some divesting of his own. Button, zipper, a rough displacing of garments, and they are grinding again, bare skin to bare skin. Hisses and moans in his ear and teeth biting into his shoulder and he vaguely realizes that they haven’t said a single coherent word since entering the room and devouring each other, and that is not a good sign.

Nails digging into flesh, sex grinding against sex. Now those teeth are digging into the Jim's neck, right over the place where his pulse flutters wildly (and how is he going to explain that mark tomorrow?). But Jim shoves away thoughts of tomorrow or of the last three years and how he might be throwing it all away for a groping, desperate shag fueled by misery and loss.

His best friend growls against Jim's skin, teeth still digging into the younger man's flesh. It’s a hot, needy sound that wrenches something loose in Jim and then he’s coming with a strength that is almost painful. His orgasm is swift and ruthless and his knees nearly buckle from the intensity. But he’s being held up by the grinding desperate motion of his friend (please let them still be friends after this, he’d give up anything else if he can just keep that) who is coming against him with a wordless groan.

Jim's own harsh gasping breaths echo in his head, reverberating like a plucked string. Bones still has his face buried in Jim’s shoulder. They are coming down to reality with a jolt and a whimper. And Jim can feel the moment that his best friend tenses (in horror, in shame, in revulsion) against him and all he can think is what the fuck do I do now?

Comments

[akainagi.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I heart depressing, desperate wall sex.
Hmmm. WWJD? WWBD? Hmmm ...