Title: Just Let Go
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 795
Warnings: unbetaed, D/s-y
Summary: Some comment porn for jim_and_bones.

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Jim thinks he put forward a good effort in staying mad. He still can't believe that he lost to Bones, and it's not that he things he's one hundred percent better than Bones or anything, but he can't say he doesn't believe in no-win scenarios without being a sore loser, now can he?

He did his share of sulking until he couldn't stand being in the bar anymore; there's no such thing as last call on Risa. So he had left in a huff that he thinks Bones might have been proud of if he weren't too busy trying to get Jim to feel better.

He kept his mouth in a tight line, not giving in no matter how soft and determined Bones' lips were against his own. Jim pulled away, shaking out of Bones' grasp until they reach their hotel room, which was probably Jim's mistake if he'd intended to really stay mad at Bones because once they were out of the public eye, Bones was free to unleash his full arsenal.

And he didn't start out slow, either. He pulled Jim close, grabbing his ass as he pulled Jim's chest flush to his, licking and nibbling in a way that Jim could exist, because he was trying to be pissed, dammit, but then Bones started talking, growling out things like this isn't how I wanted to spend our shore leave, darlin', with you pissed at me over some juvenile competition between the kisses, and all of Jim's resolve just disappeared as his knees buckled.

Which brings Jim to now, his legs hooked at the ankles under Bones' armpits as Bones seems like he's trying to right every wrong in the universe with a blowjob while he's got two fingers playing a staccato over Jim's prostate.

"Bones," he whines, fingers twisting into Bones' hair because he likes to see it all messy, likes to destroy the neat image Bones presents when he's on duty.

Bones pulls off with one last, long lick (and if Jim giggles a little at the alliteration, well, he's the only one who knows why, isn't he?), moving Jim's legs so they're bent at the knee as he crawls his way back up Jim's body until they can kiss again; Jim drinks in the musky taste of his own flesh on Bones' tongue, and it makes his cock twitch between them.

Jim reaches down, wanting to feel Bones' cock in his hand, but Bones grabs his wrist, moving it to above Jim's head. "Let me take care of you," he says, and it makes Jim whimper. Usually when Bones says that he's holding a tricorder or a hypospray, not pinning Jim's wrist with one hand and supporting Jim's leg with the other.

He bites his lip when Bones eases into him, filling him so slowly that Jim just wants to shove his hips downward to demand for more, faster, harder, but he's also intrigued by this side of Bones and wants to see what will happen if he doesn't interfere. It's something he's never done before, given up complete control, and it overwhelms him how much he's feeling, how much he trusts Bones when not that long ago he'd been so mad at him, the anger unfounded but there nonetheless.

"So beautiful when you take my cock, Jim, do you have any idea? I wish you could see what you look like." Bones' voice is low and sweet, stealing kisses as punctuation between his sentences, as he thrusts into Jim, his hips moving fluidly while Jim clenches and writhes, losing himself to Bones.

"Bones," he cries out again, and Jim can feel that his muscles are trembling.

"You don't need to hold it in, darlin'. Just let go."

He manages to hold off longer until his eyes meet with Bones', and Jim sees nothing but open, honest love and affection written across Bones' features. Jim releases a gasp, his eyes squeezing shut then fluttering back open when he comes, wanting to be able to watch Bones' face as his thrusts become shallower, and Jim can see and feel the moment when Bones reaches his own orgasm as his eyes go unfocused and hips still.

The hand holding Jim's wrist goes slack, so Jim takes the opportunity to pull Bones' mouth to his, kissing him deeply so there's no question about Jim's anger being gone. Because Bones was right, it was just some juvenile competition. Although Jim's definitely not regretting it anymore.

"I think we need to compete in wet T-shirt contests more often if this is the result," Jim says, feeling all warm and sated, and he really doesn't want to move.

"You're an idiot," Bones replies with a grunt, but Jim can feel the smile growing against his neck.