Fic: Break Of Day
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singularityTitle: Break Of Day
Author:fringedweller
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money.
Summary: It's morning, and Bones has to leave. Jim doesn't want him to go.
Author's Notes: Third in a short series tracing the progress of the Kirk/McCoy relationship through the poetry of John Donne. Follows Confined Love and The Good Morrow.
‘Tis true, ‘tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise, because ‘tis light?
Did we lie down because ‘twas night?
Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despite of light keep up together.
As the Enterprise’s computer tracked the shipboard time change from 05:59 hours to 06:00, it went through its pre-programmed settings for the quarters of Starship Captain Kirk, James T. Lights were brought up to twenty five percent of recommended internal light settings, and gradually increased to one hundred percent over the next thirty minutes. The replicator unit produced one cup of Terran coffee, hot, with milk and two sugars. At 06:10 hours, a light but insistent beeping noise would start, building up to a faster and louder crescendo until 06:30 hours, or until Starship Captain Kirk, James T entered the correct verbal command codes.
Chief Medical Officer McCoy, Leonard H, M.D didn’t know this though, because he was always gone before the lights came on. He woke early to slip out of the captain’s quarters before the end of delta shift, when the corridors were clear. He would return to his own quarters to shower, shave, change his uniform, record a message for Joanna that would be dispatched the with the day’s communiqués back to Earth and then go to the mess hall to eat breakfast. He would be conspicuously leaving the mess hall before the captain even arrived; plausible deniability.
They really weren’t fooling anyone, except Ensign Chekov. Nobody had the heart to tell him.
This morning was no different to the last seven hundred and thirty four days since the Enterprise left spacedock for her first five year mission, except that McCoy stumbled over one of Jim’s boots as he was hunting for his uniform tunic. He swore, and tumbled into the desk chair that had been used for nothing but definitely non-regulation purposes ever since Jim found the vibrate function.
The noise of his lover stubbing a toe and falling heavily was enough to rouse Jim from sleep. McCoy could see him waken, yawn and stretch by the reflected light from the star they were orbiting.
“Bones? ‘Searly, Bones. Come back to bed.” Jim’s voice was rough from sleep, and sent little tugs of desire to the region below Bones’ stomach. He flipped back the sheets, and patted them invitingly.
“Sorry Jim. Time for me to go. It’s morning.”
It was too dark for McCoy to see the pout he knew was on his lover’s face. Batting his baby blues, too, for all the good it was in the dark.
Bones was glad of the dark. It made leaving easier.
Light hath no tongue, but all is eye;
If it could speak as well as spy
This were the worst that it could say,
That being well, I fain would stay,
And that I loved my heart and honour so,
That I would not from him, that had them, go.
“Don’t go, stay. We’ll sleep in and grab breakfast here.” The promise inherent in Jim’s voice was not of a cuddle and a bowl of cereal. McCoy was tempted, sorely tempted, but knew if he did then he’d end up late to his shift in sickbay, something he did not tolerate in his staff.
“I have to go, Jim.” He hoped the muffling sound of the tunic over his head hid the longing in his voice.
The ship’s clock ticked over to 06:00 hours, and the light came on, dimmed at twenty five per cent. McCoy wished he were quicker out of the door this time. As the lights rose, he felt his will to go decrease. Jim was curled up among the sheets, the cerulean blue complimenting the tan on his skin he received from his last shore leave. It made his blue eyes even more striking, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the older man. ‘That’s no accident,” McCoy thought grimly, knowing full well that his younger lover would have no hesitation in matching his bedding to his eyes. Subtle, he wasn’t. The sheets dipped to reveal a muscular chest covered sparsely with hair, but infuriatingly remained anchored around his waist. His short hair was mussed in such a way that begged you to run your hands through it. Jim was edible, basically.
“Come on Bones, just this once? You don’t have to be on duty for another two hours. Take your clothes back off, and lay down.” He raised himself onto his knees, sheet dropping away to uncover his body completely. “I’ll do all the work, “ he purred, lazily trailing one hand over McCoy’s place in the bed and the other down the length of his toned thigh.
There had been mandatory classes at the Academy on resistance to torture. Never had they been so useful.
McCoy could feel his resistance breaking, but he knew he had to stand firm. One complaint to Starfleet Command, one nasty whisper in the wrong Admiral’s ear, and McCoy knew that he could be grounded, stripped of his rank and banned from the Enterprise. Worse, they could do it to Jim.
“Not today, Jim,” McCoy growled, finding his boots and stamping them on. In the background, an alarm beep started and the light intensified. “I’ve a meeting with Chapel at eight, rounds straight after and then it’s the day for Away Team personnel inoculation boosters, so make sure you turn up at some point.”
Must business thee from hence remove?
Oh, that’s the worst disease of love,
The poor, the foul, the false love can
Admit but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love do
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.
Jim grinned at the mention of inoculations, and palmed his hardening cock firmly. “Are you sure you want me in Sickbay for that, Bones? I may well swell up, “ with a shudder he stroked himself, leering, “and you’ll have to deal with me in public,” he groaned loudly as his hand sped up, adding a twist at the end of each stoke, “You know how loud I can be.”
Bones did know. As did Spock, who had drawn the short straw and shared a bedroom wall with the captain’s quarters. He was too Vulcan to mention the noise, although Uhura wasn’t.
“Bastard," said Bones aloud, watching with fascination as Jim quickened his pace to match the beeping of the alarm. He couldn’t leave now, not with such a glorious sight in front of him. Not with such a tent in his trousers, either.
Jim was close now, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes screwed shut, hand moving in time to the frantic alarm call, beads of sweat meandering down his toned torso. With a last huge breath he managed to pant out “Love you, Bones!” before he came spectacularly, a white fountain of semen shooting up through his fingers to splatter messily on the twisted blue sheets.
The computer’s voice rang through the room clear as a bell. “Voice pattern matched and verified. Command code accepted. Alarm terminated.” The alarm stopped, and the only sound in the room was the sound of harsh panting from both Jim and McCoy.
'Well, goddamn, McCoy thought, stumbling over to the bed, dropping down on it and seizing Jim into the fiercest kiss they had ever shared. He knew Jim loved him. He knew he loved him back, knew it deep in his bones; but to see Jim like that, splayed and displayed on his bed, writhing and panting and calling his name.... as a fucking alarm code.
He pulled away from Jim for air, and managed to get enough in his lungs to say “That’s your alarm code?” as Jim kissed his way down McCoy’s neck and undid his trousers simultaneously.
“Needed something easy to remember first thing in the morning, “ Jim grinned as he bent down and suck McCoy’s length into his hot, wet mouth.
The ship’s computer noted that Chief Medical Officer McCoy, Leonard H, M.D was thirty seven minutes late arriving at his duty station that morning.
Author:
fringedwellerRating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money.
Summary: It's morning, and Bones has to leave. Jim doesn't want him to go.
Author's Notes: Third in a short series tracing the progress of the Kirk/McCoy relationship through the poetry of John Donne. Follows Confined Love and The Good Morrow.
‘Tis true, ‘tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise, because ‘tis light?
Did we lie down because ‘twas night?
Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despite of light keep up together.
As the Enterprise’s computer tracked the shipboard time change from 05:59 hours to 06:00, it went through its pre-programmed settings for the quarters of Starship Captain Kirk, James T. Lights were brought up to twenty five percent of recommended internal light settings, and gradually increased to one hundred percent over the next thirty minutes. The replicator unit produced one cup of Terran coffee, hot, with milk and two sugars. At 06:10 hours, a light but insistent beeping noise would start, building up to a faster and louder crescendo until 06:30 hours, or until Starship Captain Kirk, James T entered the correct verbal command codes.
Chief Medical Officer McCoy, Leonard H, M.D didn’t know this though, because he was always gone before the lights came on. He woke early to slip out of the captain’s quarters before the end of delta shift, when the corridors were clear. He would return to his own quarters to shower, shave, change his uniform, record a message for Joanna that would be dispatched the with the day’s communiqués back to Earth and then go to the mess hall to eat breakfast. He would be conspicuously leaving the mess hall before the captain even arrived; plausible deniability.
They really weren’t fooling anyone, except Ensign Chekov. Nobody had the heart to tell him.
This morning was no different to the last seven hundred and thirty four days since the Enterprise left spacedock for her first five year mission, except that McCoy stumbled over one of Jim’s boots as he was hunting for his uniform tunic. He swore, and tumbled into the desk chair that had been used for nothing but definitely non-regulation purposes ever since Jim found the vibrate function.
The noise of his lover stubbing a toe and falling heavily was enough to rouse Jim from sleep. McCoy could see him waken, yawn and stretch by the reflected light from the star they were orbiting.
“Bones? ‘Searly, Bones. Come back to bed.” Jim’s voice was rough from sleep, and sent little tugs of desire to the region below Bones’ stomach. He flipped back the sheets, and patted them invitingly.
“Sorry Jim. Time for me to go. It’s morning.”
It was too dark for McCoy to see the pout he knew was on his lover’s face. Batting his baby blues, too, for all the good it was in the dark.
Bones was glad of the dark. It made leaving easier.
Light hath no tongue, but all is eye;
If it could speak as well as spy
This were the worst that it could say,
That being well, I fain would stay,
And that I loved my heart and honour so,
That I would not from him, that had them, go.
“Don’t go, stay. We’ll sleep in and grab breakfast here.” The promise inherent in Jim’s voice was not of a cuddle and a bowl of cereal. McCoy was tempted, sorely tempted, but knew if he did then he’d end up late to his shift in sickbay, something he did not tolerate in his staff.
“I have to go, Jim.” He hoped the muffling sound of the tunic over his head hid the longing in his voice.
The ship’s clock ticked over to 06:00 hours, and the light came on, dimmed at twenty five per cent. McCoy wished he were quicker out of the door this time. As the lights rose, he felt his will to go decrease. Jim was curled up among the sheets, the cerulean blue complimenting the tan on his skin he received from his last shore leave. It made his blue eyes even more striking, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the older man. ‘That’s no accident,” McCoy thought grimly, knowing full well that his younger lover would have no hesitation in matching his bedding to his eyes. Subtle, he wasn’t. The sheets dipped to reveal a muscular chest covered sparsely with hair, but infuriatingly remained anchored around his waist. His short hair was mussed in such a way that begged you to run your hands through it. Jim was edible, basically.
“Come on Bones, just this once? You don’t have to be on duty for another two hours. Take your clothes back off, and lay down.” He raised himself onto his knees, sheet dropping away to uncover his body completely. “I’ll do all the work, “ he purred, lazily trailing one hand over McCoy’s place in the bed and the other down the length of his toned thigh.
There had been mandatory classes at the Academy on resistance to torture. Never had they been so useful.
McCoy could feel his resistance breaking, but he knew he had to stand firm. One complaint to Starfleet Command, one nasty whisper in the wrong Admiral’s ear, and McCoy knew that he could be grounded, stripped of his rank and banned from the Enterprise. Worse, they could do it to Jim.
“Not today, Jim,” McCoy growled, finding his boots and stamping them on. In the background, an alarm beep started and the light intensified. “I’ve a meeting with Chapel at eight, rounds straight after and then it’s the day for Away Team personnel inoculation boosters, so make sure you turn up at some point.”
Must business thee from hence remove?
Oh, that’s the worst disease of love,
The poor, the foul, the false love can
Admit but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love do
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.
Jim grinned at the mention of inoculations, and palmed his hardening cock firmly. “Are you sure you want me in Sickbay for that, Bones? I may well swell up, “ with a shudder he stroked himself, leering, “and you’ll have to deal with me in public,” he groaned loudly as his hand sped up, adding a twist at the end of each stoke, “You know how loud I can be.”
Bones did know. As did Spock, who had drawn the short straw and shared a bedroom wall with the captain’s quarters. He was too Vulcan to mention the noise, although Uhura wasn’t.
“Bastard," said Bones aloud, watching with fascination as Jim quickened his pace to match the beeping of the alarm. He couldn’t leave now, not with such a glorious sight in front of him. Not with such a tent in his trousers, either.
Jim was close now, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes screwed shut, hand moving in time to the frantic alarm call, beads of sweat meandering down his toned torso. With a last huge breath he managed to pant out “Love you, Bones!” before he came spectacularly, a white fountain of semen shooting up through his fingers to splatter messily on the twisted blue sheets.
The computer’s voice rang through the room clear as a bell. “Voice pattern matched and verified. Command code accepted. Alarm terminated.” The alarm stopped, and the only sound in the room was the sound of harsh panting from both Jim and McCoy.
'Well, goddamn, McCoy thought, stumbling over to the bed, dropping down on it and seizing Jim into the fiercest kiss they had ever shared. He knew Jim loved him. He knew he loved him back, knew it deep in his bones; but to see Jim like that, splayed and displayed on his bed, writhing and panting and calling his name.... as a fucking alarm code.
He pulled away from Jim for air, and managed to get enough in his lungs to say “That’s your alarm code?” as Jim kissed his way down McCoy’s neck and undid his trousers simultaneously.
“Needed something easy to remember first thing in the morning, “ Jim grinned as he bent down and suck McCoy’s length into his hot, wet mouth.
The ship’s computer noted that Chief Medical Officer McCoy, Leonard H, M.D was thirty seven minutes late arriving at his duty station that morning.