Words: around 5000
Prompt: Sex Pollen
Summary: Umm, Bones gets whammied with sex pollen and hot manlovings ensue? :D?
Notes/Warnings: Beta'd by the fabulous lindmere. I tried to be sensitive to the consent issues inherent in this prompt, and I think I avoided any dubcon/noncon, but as always, YMMV.
McCoy took a deep breath of the fresh air all around him. Goddamn, but it was good to be off that tin can for a while, stretch his legs and breathe some oxygen that hadn't been scrubbed and recirculated a thousand times through the ship's innards until every breath carried the unmistakable tang of metal and ozone and stale humanity.
The transporter wasn't fun - okay, it was downright panic-inducing - but it had been worth it. The as-yet-unnamed planet was beautiful, with colors almost too vivid to be real, the sky the color of an emerald and the lush foliage a dozen different shades of cotton-candy pink and peach. In fact, this much prettiness was making McCoy suspicious. In his experience, an attractive facade almost always masked a dangerous, devious nature. Jim was the ultimate proof of that. Not that the kid was malicious, but he was crafty. He had more ways of evading medical care than McCoy would've thought possible, though on a slightly brighter note, his strategic thinking had gotten the Enterprise and its crew out of more than one tight spot.
He shook his head. He was wool-gathering about Jim again, and he was supposed to be taking bio-readings, making sure the planet was suitable for colonization. It had been getting worse and worse lately, his inability to bottle up and shove away the feelings he'd had for Jim since their Academy days. Now they were two years into their mission, and Jim showed no signs of looking in McCoy's direction, or in anyone's direction two nights in a row. He was apparently having the time of his life screwing his way through the female population of the galaxy. Not that McCoy was bitter about it or anything.
He headed away from the clearing they'd beamed into; most of the others had already moved away to begin their assigned tasks. He got out his tricorder and set it to scan for biohazards, trying not to think about Jim as he moved slowly through the candy-colored jungle. The readings he was getting were all completely within normal parameters, and McCoy's suspicions about this place started to ease slightly. Maybe it was just as beautiful, innocent, and unspoiled as it appeared.
Of course, this was the moment the universe proved his cynicism justified yet again when a lavender-toned tree with large purple spreading flowers took a massive dump on him. He felt a rain of powder onto his head and shoulders - it was so fine it was nearly liquid and it was getting everywhere, flowing underneath his collar and down across his body. He looked up to find the source of this crap, and found that the flowers had upended themselves and were actually shaking themselves out onto him. He got a faceful of powder for his troubles and then the flowers were done, pointing back towards the sky as if they'd never even consider doing something as rude as vomiting an unknown substance onto a harmless visitor.
He could already feel his heart rate speeding up dangerously, his skin flushing and respiration increasing, and it wasn't just due to his adrenaline reaction. If this kept up, he'd stroke out within minutes.
Well, shit. He was screwed, but maybe there was still time for Jim and the rest of the crew. He flipped open his communicator and hailed Jim. He didn't know how much time they had, so when Jim started with a sunny "Well, hey there, Bones," he cut right across him. "Jim, unknown biohazard substance. I've already been exposed. Everyone else needs to beam back aboard now."
Jim, for all his childish antics, was also capable of fast, decisive action when necessary. He heard Jim's voice harden. "Understood. Kirk out."
The next few moments were some of the longest of McCoy's life, but in the peaceful quiet, it felt strangely anti-climactic as well. He hoped to god that the rest of the team had gotten away safely - oh hell, might as well admit it - he hoped to god that Jim had gotten away safely. He fumbled with his tricorder, trying to analyze the substance and its effect on him, but both the device and his hands were covered with a layer of fine, slippery powder which it made it impossible for him to actually use the thing.
He gave up. What did it matter? Clearly he was going to die, alone, on this stupid pastel planet, and he was never even going to get to have sex with Jim. Wait, where had that thought come from? Not that he didn't want to have sex with Jim, but it wasn't like he only wanted Jim for his body or anything. And what a hot, fine, taut body it was, and... oh wonderful. This was just the perfect topping to his crappy day. His cock was rock hard now, straining against his uniform pants, and his hands were absolutely itching to get it out and stroke it. Fantastic. Not only was he going to die, he was going to humiliate himself in the process. He could see Scotty beaming his body back up and the whole crew realizing he'd died jacking off.
He was trying to keep his heart rate down with some deep breathing and debating whether assuaging the overwhelming ache in his cock was worth the inevitable-but-fortunately-posthumous mortification when he heard the sounds of something approaching fast, crashing through the dense plant life around him. Great, was this some local carnivore that Spock's scans had failed to pick up? Unbelievable.
Oh, hell. No, it wasn't a local carnivore, and it wasn't unbelievable at all - it was Jim, rushing in to rescue him and putting himself in danger in the process, naturally. God damn it. The only consolation in this hellish situation had been that he'd acted quickly enough to get Jim out of harm's way, and now here he was hurrying right back into harm's way. And looking damn fine while at it. McCoy shook his head to clear it of that thought. The moron hadn't even worn a biohazard suit. He was rushing over to McCoy in his standard captain's uniform... the one that fit him like a second skin, hugging the planes and curves of his perfect body... god DAMN it.
Jim stopped short when he got within about twenty feet of McCoy - a distance far too short for McCoy's comfort, for multiple reasons.
"I got everyone away safely, Bones. Now tell me what happened. Are you okay?"
The sound of his voice was like a match to a pile of tinder and suddenly Bones needed to come now. He was ripping desperately at the fastening of his uniform pants and spared just enough thought to yell at Jim, "Get out of here, Jim. GO!"
Jim's eyes widened almost comically, but he didn't move. And oh, god, now McCoy's pants were down around his thighs, his dick was straining in his hand and Jim was watching, his mouth falling open in shock, and could he please just die now and spare himself this utter humiliation?
"Jim, please," he said, and he didn't even know what he was begging for anymore - for Jim to leave, or for Jim to come closer. His hand was moving on his cock hard and fast, and it hurt because there was no lubrication but it was a good hurt, like scratching an itch that had been driving him crazy for hours. And oh, now that he was pumping himself, his heart rate had calmed just the tiniest bit, the red haze that had threatened to take over his vision was receding, and he was filled with an overwhelming sense of purpose. He whirled through possible medical explanations, but it all boiled down to SEX NOW, and the doctor part of his brain promptly fled the premises.
Without his own volition, he stumbled a step closer to Jim and oh Jesus, what the hell was happening? He was not going to force himself on Jim, he wasn't, he wasn't. He'd rather die first. Jim instinctively took a step closer to him as well - stupid kid had absolutely no instinct for self-preservation, and god, he looked fuckable right now, even more than usual.
It was agonizing, but he wrenched his eyes away from Jim and forced himself to a halt. His hand was racing over his cock, but it wasn't enough, he needed to be buried deep inside of Jim, and it made him want to cry out in frustration. Instead he let out a harsh gasping sob and said "Jim, I don't want to hurt you - I can't control myself much longer - I'm gonna die anyway - Jim, you've gotta shoot me. Now. Please."
There was only silence and he couldn't keep his eyes away from Jim anymore. He zeroed in on Jim helplessly, and his body stumbled back into motion towards him, but Jim was deadly calm, already taking aim with his phaser and oh god he really was going to shoot him and - the world went black.
He regained awareness suddenly, his eyes flying open. His brain wasn't fuzzy at all, and he was still rock-hard and he desperately wanted to come. He seemed to be flat on his back in a cave of some sort. He could tell he was still on the godforsaken pastel planet because the cave he was in was carved into pale blue rock and was sparkling with matching crystalline structures that emitted a cool blue glow, illuminating the space. He rolled over and sat up, realizing as he did so that one of his wrists was bound with a short piece of cord to a nearby supply crate. He tugged at it ineffectually. The crate was heavy - there was no way he was going anywhere.
He couldn't see Jim, but clearly he'd been the one to set up the camp with Starfleet-issue emergency gear. McCoy had the remnants of the headache that he knew resulted from being stunned with a phaser - and he was not going to think about the embarrassing incident during a training exercise that had led to that knowledge. God damn it, Jim had shot him. Not that he'd really had much of a choice, and okay yeah, he'd asked him to, and he'd only used the stun setting, but still. He'd shot him!
His indignation faded as his arousal became more insistent, reminding him that he was still in the grip of some sort of super-charged sexual state thanks to the goddamn crap that tree had unloaded on him. He seemed to have been cleaned up since he was no longer covered in powder - Jim again, he guessed - and there was a tube of lubricant on the rock floor next to him. He groaned in embarrassment, but couldn't deny that he'd probably need it, and in very short order.
Jim didn't seem to be around, and he really really needed to come now, so he decided to squeeze one out before Jim got back from scouting or whatever the hell he was doing. His pants were still undone but had been pulled back up around his hips, making it awkward but not impossible for him to tug himself free with his one unbound hand. He fumbled with the lube, finally got a dollop onto his cock and his hand around himself and oh yeah, Christ, that was good. He fucked his hand fast, pushing for completion.
Completion proved elusive, though, and soon he was practically writhing in frustration as his orgasm got ever closer but stayed just out of reach. He was moaning now, loudly, so he wasn't too surprised when Jim came running. He was past embarrassment now, and into desperation, so Jim's appearance didn't faze him as much as it otherwise would have.
Jim was flushed but he kept his eyes determinedly focused on Bones' face as he crouched at his side. "Tell me what I can do. Tell me how to help you, Bones."
Jesus, did Jim have any idea what he was offering? Given the situation, he must. The kid was a genius and about the farthest thing from a blushing virgin as could be imagined. But there was no way he was going to take advantage of Jim in this situation. Aside from the fact that it would be taking advantage - of Jim's generosity, of his need to fix things, help people - there was also the fact that it would be uncomfortably close to pity sex and McCoy would be damned before he'd accept pity sex from James Kirk.
"Just sedate me, Jim. Maybe the effect will fade with time," he grunted as he continued stroking himself.
Jim looked at him with concern. "I doubt it. You've been out for nearly twelve hours and I don't think it's getting any better. I analyzed the powder while you were out. It's not going to kill you, whatever it is, but we don't have the supplies to synthesize an antidote, so we'll just have to let it run its course. Should be out of your system within a few days, but I can't keep you sedated that entire time, not without proper medical supervision. I know you don't want this - don't want me," and here Jim looked away, and Bones could've almost sworn Jim was in pain, but it was gone so fast he must have imagined it, "but Bones, you've got to let me help you."
Jim was so far off the mark about McCoy's desires that he would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so horrific. He clenched his jaw. God, he hated this. He'd wanted Jim so badly for so long, but not like this. Didn't look like there was much choice, though.
"Fine, Jim. Do whatever you think is best. You always do anyway."
Jim met his eyes, looked at him with total sincerity. "Not this, Bones. I'd never force you. If you want me to sedate you, I will, I just don't think it's going to work. I can tell you're in pain, Bones. Please let me help you."
God damn it, Jim was right, and they both knew it. And he wanted it - no, more like needed it now - his hand was still moving furiously but he was no closer than he had been when Jim had come running to his side. Jim was offering, and suddenly Bones didn't have the strength to refuse him any longer.
"Yeah, Jim, do it," he gasped out, and the relief at just giving in was so strong that he nearly wept.
Jim didn't waste a moment, curling his own hand around McCoy's cock, interlacing their fingers. The first touch was all it took and McCoy was coming, harder than he could ever remember coming before and yelling at the top of his lungs. Jim rode it out with him, kept stroking gently until McCoy's breathing had returned to something resembling normal. He lay in a completely boneless sprawl on his back, recovering. The lust-haze seemed to have receded somewhat, but it felt like it was only a reprieve, not a cessation. Still, he'd take what he could.
McCoy kept his eyes averted as Jim went about cleaning him up, stripping off his gold overshirt and using it to efficiently wipe McCoy down. Jim was so matter-of-fact, so normal, that McCoy didn't feel nearly as awkward as he'd feared he would. Still, the silence was getting uncomfortable, so he broke it.
"Where are we, and how'd we get here? And what are you doing here, anyway, Jim? You don't have the sense God gave a rabbit." He glowered, which probably wasn't very intimidating given that his pants were open, his now-flaccid penis was still hanging out, and Jim was wiping his come off of him.
Jim finished his task, tucked Bones gently into his pants, and settled back, leaning against the crate that Bones was tied to. "As to where we are, we're still on the planet we were surveying, but I'm guessing you figured out that part. We're in a cave near the clearing where we first beamed down. As for how you got here, I carried you. After I stunned you and then used the portable sonic decontaminator on you. And man, Bones, you are heavy."
The teasing insult, so familiar, relaxed McCoy a bit, as Jim must've intended. He grinned and went on. "As for why I'm here, well. Right after we got everyone beamed back up, some kind of giant storm kicked up and the atmospheric interference meant we couldn't get a transporter lock on you and beam you to the decontamination unit in sickbay. I wasn't going to leave you, so I grabbed a shuttle, and here I am." The far-too-nonchalant way he told the story meant that there was a lot more to it than that, probably something involving extreme danger.
McCoy gave Jim the raised eyebrow - the kid could never hold out long against it. Sure enough, he squirmed for a few moments then cracked. "Okay, Spock didn't want me to come because he said the atmospheric ionization would interfere with the shuttle's electronics, and I just barely got it landed before it died completely, so now we're stuck here until the storm passes."
"Of all the goddamn stupid, reckless things to do - " McCoy began, but Jim cut him off.
"But hey, we've got a shuttle's worth of emergency supplies, so we should be fine." Seeing that McCoy wasn't appeased, he got a little more serious. "I wasn't going to leave you down here, alone, in a storm, after being exposed to an unknown hazardous substance. No way." The complete finality with which he said that, coupled with the determination in Jim's eyes, made McCoy stop grumbling. He knew on some level that Jim would always come for him and hell, he wouldn't've let anything or anyone stop him from getting to Jim if their positions had been reversed.
"Thanks, kid," he said gruffly, suddenly embarrassed by all that had happened. Jim smiled gently, as if he could sense it.
"No problem. Do you think the effect has worn off for now? I'll untie you if you want."
McCoy closed his eyes. He could already feel the tide of arousal rising again. "No. No, it's not over. God damn it, Jim, you shouldn't have to - "
"Hey, we've been through this already. I'm fine. I'm not the one who's being forced into something he doesn't want." Jim sounded - really unhappy, actually, and McCoy desperately tried to force his mind into some semblance of rational thought.
He looked more closely at Jim's face and suddenly he could see the overwhelming guilt written there. Hell, the kid was probably thinking that he'd somehow taken advantage of McCoy, as if McCoy hadn't wanted Jim since practically the moment they'd met. Dear lord, this was going to be excruciating, but he couldn't let Jim keep tearing himself to pieces out of a misplaced sense of guilt.
"You're assuming this is something I don't want." It was oblique, but Jim was smart, and McCoy hoped it'd be enough. No such luck, of course.
"Well, yeah, you yelling at me to leave you alone and preferring to be shot or sedated rather than touch me was kind of a clue." The words were light but the hurt behind those blue eyes was undeniable, and McCoy couldn't stand it.
"You really are an idiot. I didn't want to force you to touch me. Of course I want you. I've loved you for years, Jim."
It was a humiliating revelation, but at least there was some small consolation in the completely flabbergasted look on Jim's face.
"You - I - but -" Jim stammered. McCoy took what amusement he could from Jim's incoherence, because any second now that infamous brain was going to kick in and then it was going to be all awkwardness and carefully hidden disgust and the crumbling ruins of the friendship that was the only thing in this world that really meant anything to McCoy.
Only, it didn't seem to be happening. Instead, there was a growing smile on Jim's face.
"Why Bones, I had no idea you felt that way," he said playfully, and McCoy couldn't take it anymore.
"Jim, my feelings aren't a goddamned joke, and -" he choked himself off, blinking back tears even as his treacherous cock filled and hardened again. He closed his eyes and turned his head away.
"Fuck, Bones, I didn't mean it that way. Hey, I'm sorry, look at me, will you?" Jim sounded genuinely distressed, and Bones could never deny Jim anything, so he opened his eyes and focused once again on Jim's face.
Jim was gazing down at him earnestly, and when their eyes met he gave him a small, uncertain smile, infinitely more attractive than the seductive I-know-just-how-hot-I-am smirk he usually wore. "I love you too. I've been about killing myself trying to figure out how to get you to think of me as more than a friend, and it turns out I should've just talked to you." He shook his head ruefully. McCoy, though, was less than convinced.
"You love me? Jim, you're with a different woman every week. When I say 'love' I mean commitment, monogamy. You'd hate that."
"Bones, I haven't been with anyone in at least eight months. It was part of my long-term strategy. I had a whole plan. There were diagrams and everything. I knew you wouldn't take me seriously until I'd proved that I could keep it in my pants."
McCoy cast his mind back, and huh, now that he was thinking about it, it had been a while since Jim had gone off with a blue-skinned woman, or a green-haired woman, or, for that matter, any woman, aiming the patented James T. Kirk wink at McCoy as he left. Actually, he generally beamed back to the ship with McCoy after a successful away mission or diplomatic soiree, inviting McCoy back to his quarters for a drink before going to bed, obviously alone.
He blinked. His arousal was increasing, and thought was becoming correspondingly more difficult, but he needed to figure this out before the lust overtook him again. "But - you're straight."
Jim squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, not exactly. I mean, I've never actually been with a guy, but I'vewantedyouforareallylongtimeandIwante
He growled, and Jim's eyes widened. "Get over here, now."
Jim scrambled to comply and hastily stripped off McCoy's clothes, his shirt ending up tangled around his wrist where he was tied to the crate. Jim made a wordless noise of frustration before taking his phaser and simply blasting through the rope with a narrow beam, carefully aimed away from McCoy and toward the rock floor.
Before he could get to work on his own clothes, McCoy had grabbed him and pulled him in for a voracious kiss.
"Need - you - now," he hissed out between kisses. Jim moaned.
"Yeah, Bones, anything. What do you need?"
A dizzying array of possibilities swept through McCoy's head, but for now he knew exactly what he wanted. "Your mouth. Want your mouth on my cock."
Jim nodded and moved down McCoy's body until his head was aligned with McCoy's hips. He knew Jim had never done this before, but he didn't even hesitate, just reached out to grasp the base of McCoy's cock, then he opened his pretty pink lips and got to work.
It wasn't the most expert blowjob he'd ever had, but it was Jim, and that made it the best, bar none. He didn't need fancy tricks anyway - just the sensation of Jim's hot, wet mouth working the first few inches of his cock, the tight suction and the sight of Jim's full lips wrapped around him, and Bones was gone again, coming with a hoarse yell as Jim doggedly kept his mouth in place and swallowed every drop.
As if the revelations between them had burst through all of the controls on his libido, he was hardening again even as Jim was pulling his mouth away.
Jim looked at him in mingled surprise, delight, and concern. "You okay, Bones? Want me to go again?"
McCoy groaned. He must've died when he wasn't paying attention because this was too good to be happening in his stupid messed-up life. But if this was heaven, he might as well enjoy it until whoever was in charge of these things realized their mistake and he ended up in a far less pleasant place.
So he just nodded and said, "Yeah, I'm okay, and yeah, again. Only, take your clothes off for me, Jim. I want to watch you touch yourself while you suck me off."
Jim closed his eyes briefly in reaction, then stripped off his clothes so hastily McCoy worried he was going to sprain something. Not that he was complaining - his dick was already missing the wet warmth of Jim's mouth.
In about five seconds flat, Jim was back at his task, sucking, licking, swirling his tongue, taking McCoy as deep as he could, which was pretty damn deep for a rank amateur. The sight of Jim fisting his own cock while he worshipped McCoy with his mouth was incredible. McCoy stared, committing it to memory. Then he couldn't resist any longer and he threaded his fingers into Jim's hair, gently directing his mouth while Jim looked up at him through long dark lashes. That was all it took for McCoy to throw his head back and shudder through another orgasm. Through his haze, he heard the slapping sound of Jim desperately jerking himself towards completion, and managed to pry his eyes open just in time to see Jim arch his back and come, shooting onto McCoy's stomach in several distinct spurts as his hips bucked wildly.
That sight was hot enough to get McCoy hard, and he groaned. Jesus, not again. Not that he minded - he'd go at it with Jim all day and all night, but Jim wasn't going to be able to keep up with the orgasm count and he was liable to get bored.
Once Jim had milked the last few drops from his dick, he opened his eyes and took in McCoy's state. The slowly spreading grin eased McCoy's fears, and Jim waggled his eyebrows lecherously.
"I do like a challenge, Bones. Which do you think will get tired first, my jaw or your dick?"
That startled a laugh out of McCoy, and Jim grinned like a kid who'd made his teacher proud. That started a whole new train of very dirty thoughts and McCoy drew Jim into his arms, settling him next to him on the ground.
"Actually, Jim, I was thinking I might give your mouth a break. I've got a few other things I'd like to try out before this wears off."
"Yeah?" Jim purred.
"Yeah," he rumbled, and enjoyed Jim's shiver against him. "First, though, darlin'..."
"Yeah?" Now Jim sounded almost breathless.
"Find us somewhere more comfortable to lie down, dammit. This rock floor is killing my back." He accompanied this with a sharp smack to Jim's ass, and Jim grinned at him with wicked promise before bouncing to his feet and sauntering away to start poking through some crates.
He gave himself a few lazy strokes and watched Jim's ass while he rummaged. Maybe this planet wasn't so bad after all. "Hey Jim, do we need to be expecting visitors any moment? How long is this storm supposed to last, anyway?"
Jim looked at him with wide, far-too-innocent eyes. Uh-oh. "Well, Spock's not sure," he hedged.
"Jim," he said warningly.
"Well, it could be a couple weeks..."
"...but more likely it'll be a month. Sorry, Bones!"
McCoy was beyond aghast and into dumbfounded. His jaw worked, but no sound came out.
"If it's any consolation, we've got plenty of supplies," Jim added brightly. "Plus, you've got me, and I'll be your willing sex slave for as long as we're stuck here."
Well. That sounded like something he could live with. He closed his mouth with a snap, regarded Jim thoughtfully. His cock certainly liked the idea anyway - it was already leaking and twitching at the prospect of having Jim at its disposal for thirty days.
Jim's tone turned wheedling. "Come on, Bones, think about it. All alone, a cozy hideout to ourselves, no interruptions - it'll be like a pre-honeymoon." Then a thought seemed to strike him. "You are gonna make an honest man out of me, aren't you, Bones?"
McCoy snorted. "I doubt anyone could do that, you little twerp, but yeah. I'm gonna marry you."
Jim practically glowed. "Think Spock would conduct the ceremony? Or maybe he could be my best man, or..."
"Jim? Shut up. And get back here, now. Find us a better bed later."
Jim stalked over to him, predatory and not at all submissive. McCoy snorted. So much for a sex slave. Oh well, he liked Jim this way better. Jim settled himself between McCoy's legs, bent to take him in his mouth again. Just before he got his lips on McCoy's cock, he looked up and murmured, "Um, Spock did mention it could be a couple-ish months before the storm clears." Then it was heat and wet and suction and Jim all around him.
McCoy let out a roar that resounded throughout the cave, and even he wasn't sure whether it was outrage or ecstasy.
Outside, in the whipping wind, the waves of sexual pleasure reached the tree T'Thil, and it rustled its leaves in satisfaction. The two strange wandering creatures would be a good strong pairing, providing support and shelter for each other. T'Thil congratulated itself on a job well done, and stirred up the storm a little more.