Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,
Sky
skyblue_reverie

Trek Fik: The Moby Chronicles, Part 6

Title: The Moby Chronicles, Part 6
Author: skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: (Star Trek Alternate Original Series) Kirk/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Big Penises, Unlikely Klingons
Word Count: around 3100
Summary: Okay, so this is the long-awaited (by at least three people!) continuation of my cracky series The Moby Chronicles, wherein Bones has a HUMONGOUS DICK and has never yet managed to complete the act of buttsex with Jim. Will it happen this time? Read to find out!
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N : This is the first fic I've written in far too long, and I owe infinite thanks and love to ennui_blue_lite for handholding and suggestions and general wonderfulness. Credit also owed to some of the lovely lj commenters (particularly wemblee, and an anonymouse) back on the previous sections of the series, for awesome suggestions! I really appreciate comments - they make my day and I treasure each one and respond to them all. I'm kind of a feedback whore. Just so you know. ♥

Previous parts:
Part 1 (a.k.a. Lost for Words)
Part 2 (a.k.a. Kobayashi Maru, Part 2: Ahab's Quest)
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5-ish, sorta. One Time The Moby Chronicles Met Jim Kirk's Massive Cock... In Jail. Birthday crack for therumjournals combining her MASSIVE!COCK!JIM series with my MASSIVE!COCK!BONES series.

Or:
The series over on AO3


The evening spent with the other Jim and Bones had been… educational. Bones would never have thought of using fisting as a gentle introduction to anal sex, but given the size of his penis, it actually was a pretty good idea. Apparently the alternate universe Jim had been using it for years to get his partners warmed up. He got a few other tips too, including a few observations of things that both Jims liked, and he’d tucked that knowledge away for future use. He also learned that Jims of any universe liked to name big penises, and the Jims spent far too much time chortling over the names that they’d each chosen for the big cock in their universe. His Jim had even proposed changing the name of Bones’ dick from Moby to “the CMO” to match other-Jim’s penis which other-Jim had named “the Captain” but Bones had drawn the line. If his dick had to be named, it at least would NOT be a name that was going to constantly come up in conversation around him. Both Jims had pouted, and it had taken a massive effort of willpower to resist, but luckily the other Bones had come to his aid and supported his position. Two glowering doctors was apparently more than the Jims could take, and they’d capitulated.

Now, though, it was just back to the two of them and really, that’s the way Bones preferred it. One Jim was enough to handle; two in a single reality might cause multiverse-ending chaos. Or something.

Anyway, he had given Jim a tiny fraction of the standard dose of muscle relaxant, just enough to help his muscles loosen up, hopefully not enough to alert Spock to what they were doing, or worse, cause him to bust in on them again, though this time McCoy wasn’t going to stop even if he did bust in. Jim was completely lucid and completely horny, face-down, ass-up on the bed, taking four of Bones’ fingers hard and fast, demanding that Bones quit warming him up and get to the main event.

Bones grumbled, but it was just for show. He wanted this as badly as Jim did. He couldn’t wait to sink into Jim, fuck that taut, tight little ass until he exploded right into Jim, filled him up so full that McCoy’s semen would leak out around his dick. Hopefully he’d have enough functioning brain cells to remember to give Jim a reach-around before he himself came, but he wouldn’t care to lay odds on it.

He grabbed the bottle of lube that Jim had thoughtfully put on top of the nightstand this time, instead of making him waste time looking through all the crap that Jim had stuffed into the nightstand drawer. He uncapped the bottle, drizzled his cock liberally, dripped some of the gel directly onto Jim’s hole, and added an extra dollop to his hand for good measure. Then he started pushing the head of his cock into Jim’s opening.

“Ohhhhhhh, fuuuuuuck,” they both said at the same time.

“More, Bones,” Jim ordered, his voice rough with arousal. Bones obligingly pushed a little deeper, groaning incoherently as he did so.

He inched forward, pushing a little deeper with each thrust, until he was fully buried in Jim and Jim was making the high-pitched whine that indicated he was on the bleeding edge between pleasure and pain. Bones, with an effort, held himself still, letting Jim get used to him. His hands were on Jim’s hips and he wanted so badly to start thrusting, harder and harder until he was reaming out that tight little hole, making Jim scream with pleasure. But if he did that now, the screams wouldn’t be of pleasure, and McCoy would never do anything to hurt Jim. Well, other than hypo him to hell and back, but that was for his own good. So McCoy put a tight rein on his urges and gave Jim however much time he needed.

After a couple minutes, he could feel Jim loosening around him, just a bit, adjusting to his girth. A moment after that, Jim wiggled experimentally and then said, “Yeah, Bones, I’m good now. Do it. Fuck me.”

Bones’ libido threw off the restraints Bones had imposed and he began to move his hips so he could withdraw and then thrust into that achingly sweet channel. Only, when he moved his hips backward, nothing happened. He didn’t come out. He moved his hips back a little harder, and this time he hissed in pain just as Jim said “OW, Bones, what are you doing?”

He tried to move his hands to the base of his dick so he could figure out what was going on, but only one of them responded. The other one stayed firmly on Jim’s hip, as if it was cemented there. What the goddamn hell was going on?

Jim had raised himself onto all fours and was peering around behind himself, staring at Bones as Bones struggled to move his hand or his dick. Then Jim’s eyes went to the bottle of lube that Bones had let fall to the covers next to them.

“Oh, shit,” Jim murmured. McCoy’s blood ran cold. When Jim said “Oh, shit,” in that tone of voice, it was bad.

“What, Jim?” he demanded, panic leaking into his voice.

“Ummm, Bones, that bottle on my nightstand? That wasn’t lube. That was Secure-Hold Ultra Permanent Glue-All that I was using to fix a broken holo-frame. The one I accidentally kicked off the wall last time, remember?”

Bones didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He just stared at Jim in horror. And then the anger started.

“WHAT THE HELL, JIM?” he roared. Jim winced, but Bones didn’t relent. “You left an unmarked bottle of clear gel on top of your nightstand and didn’t think to tell me it wasn’t lube?”

“I never put lube on top of the nightstand, Bones,” Jim responded in a reasonable tone that made Bones want to strangle him. “I like watching you rummage for it. It’s sexy when you grumble about it. And I forgot the glue was there. I took some from the chemistry lab last week but I only needed a little so I put it into a clean bottle I found there, and then forgot to bring it back to the lab. Um, sorry?”

Bones was past speechless and into dumbfounded. Secure-Hold Ultra Permanent Glue-All was designed to be impervious to most solvents and anything that could dissolve it was nothing that Bones would ever get anywhere near his penis, or Jim’s rectum. He closed his eyes in something like despair. God, or the Universe, or someone, somewhere, was laughing his/her/its ass off at him because there was just no other explanation besides divine malevolence directed specifically at him. He didn’t know what he’d done to piss off providence, but he was obviously being punished for something, and his punishment was never getting to actually fuck Jim Kirk, and having increasingly ludicrous disasters occur when he tried.

While he was thinking these wretched thoughts, he heard and felt Jim shuffling around a bit. Jim had reached out and snagged his PADD from inside his nightstand drawer and Bones could see over his shoulder; he was looking up “how to get Secure-Hold off skin”. He was scrolling through tips like “use lemon juice” or “use acetaminic acid” or “rub the affected area with a pumice stone”. Each recommendation made Bones wince more than the previous one.

It seemed that the only possible things they could safely use were warm, soapy water, or vegetable oil. Bones had his doubts about the efficacy of these methods, but at least they wouldn’t scorch the skin of his dick off. It was going to take time, and they were going to either have to get someone to bring them soapy water and oil, or else somehow stand up and coordinate their steps while stuck together, crotch to butt-cheeks, so they could walk together over to Jim’s replicator. He couldn’t imagine how this awful situation could get any worse.

Too late, he realized that he had just practically dared the universe to up the ante, and of course that was the moment that the red alert klaxons began to wail and Sulu’s voice came through on the emergency comm channel into Jim’s quarters. “Captain, a Klingon ship has just decloaked off the starboard bow. They are threatening to launch torpedoes and demanding to see you immediately.”

He heard Jim breathe something that sounded like “motherfucking son of a cocksucking fuck” and then his voice hardened into its command tones. “Hail them, and patch it through to my quarters in 30 seconds.” He raised himself onto his knees, his torso in front of Bones’, though Bones’ hand was still glued onto his right hip. “We’ve got to turn around, Bones.”

They shuffled awkwardly around on the bed so that Jim was facing the viewscreen, holding a sheet in front of his groin, with Bones’ head peeking out from behind Jim, over Jim’s right shoulder. The viewscreen flickered and then a closeup of a hostile Klingon face (not that Bones had ever seen a non-hostile Klingon face for comparison) appeared.

The Klingon stared at them for a few seconds, and they stared back. The Klingon’s face had gone blank, her eyes first wide with astonishment, then narrowing into slits as she stared at them. “Are you speaking to me while having sexual congress with your mate?” she demanded incredulously.

Jim spoke casually. “Well, yeah, you kind of interrupted us and didn’t give us time to get presentable,” he said in that sensible tone of his, as if the other person was the one being unreasonable, which usually drove Bones up the wall but currently made him want to giggle hysterically. “What do you want, anyway?” Jim added, almost as an afterthought.

The Klingon appeared to be getting over her initial shock and pretended to consider Jim’s question for a few moments, though Bones could tell she was actually checking out Jim’s admittedly fine and mostly naked body. Finally she cleared her throat and said, “My name is B’Etorra, and my demands must be made in person. Beam over to my ship and we can discuss them privately.” There was just the barest hint of innuendo in her voice and Bones glared at her, diplomacy be damned. She quickly added, “Bring your mate, of course. I’d like to meet him too.”

Jim gave his best fuck-me smile, causing Bones to growl softly, menacingly into Jim’s ear, which in turn made Jim give a full-body shudder and a tiny whimper, dropping the smile. Bones smirked in satisfaction. Jim pulled himself together and said, “Well, that might be a bit difficult at the moment, but if you’d like to come over here we’d be happy to see you. Privately. In my quarters,” he added.

B’Etorra regarded them suspiciously for a moment, but Jim’s innocent look apparently translated across species, because she gave in surprisingly readily. “Agreed. I’ll beam aboard in one hour with a security escort.”

Jim beamed at her. “Great! We look forward to it! Oh, hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any glue solvent that won’t damage… um… sensitive skin, would you?”

After another long moment of scrutiny from B’Etorra, she suddenly burst into raucous laughter, which sounded sort of like a herd of rampaging Hanonian land eels being hit with a megaton of explosive shrapnel. And yes, McCoy did have first-hand knowledge of this particular subject, no matter how much he might have wished otherwise.

In any event, the shrapnel-laughter was soon magnified tenfold as it appeared that the entire Klingon bridge crew had just figured out Jim and Bones’ predicament. Bones groaned in humiliation and hid his face in Jim’s shoulder.

Finally B’Etorra managed to stop laughing long enough to say, “I may have something. We will add that to the negotiations. I will see you in one hour. Wo’batlhvaD. ” Then the vidscreen went blank.

Immediately both of their comm units went crazy, and Jim’s PADD started flashing with message after message.

Use lemon juice. Is well-known remedy in Russia. -Chekov, read one.

Another one said, Neutronium balm. It’s only a little radioactive. Whatever you do, do NOT use lemon juice, no matter what anyone says. Trust me. -Sulu

Try Plomeek soup. DO NOT ask me how I know this, and if you ever bring it up, your next pay-per-view porn order will be routed directly to Admiral Pike for approval. -Uhura

Captain, authentic Vulcan Plomeek soup contains compounds which dissolve the molecular bonds of certain Terran-based adhesives. However, I would advise using a small amount first to test for adverse reactions, given your medical history. Also, please tell the doctor that I would have expected better of him than to let this situation occur, given his medical training. -Spock


Bones groaned even more loudly, and in even more humiliation. Thinking back, Jim hadn’t asked for a private channel, and it was standard procedure to show intership communications with hostile races on every viewscreen in the ship, so all personnel would know what was happening. And so, all personnel aboard the Enterprise did, in fact, know what was happening.

Several more messages flashed across the screen, each with a more unlikely suggestion than the last, and Bones wondered what the hell this crew had been up to that so many of them had this information right off the top of their heads.

One awkward and uncomfortable, yet still massively boring hour later, the chime to Jim’s quarters sounded. They had already shuffled around so they were facing the door, and McCoy had a blanket wrapped around the back of them, while Jim still held the sheet in front, lower on his abdomen than McCoy was entirely happy about.

They saw B’Etorra in the doorway, and fanned out behind her like a poker hand were avidly curious faces, Klingon, human, and – McCoy thought he caught a flash of red hair and green skin that could only be Gaila. Jim waved sunnily to all and sundry and then beckoned B’Etorra forward. The door swished closed on the masses outside and McCoy kind of wished that he could just die now and spare himself any further humiliation.

B’Etorra struggled to keep a straight face at the sight of them. She failed. She burst into laughter again, which didn’t stop until she was bent over double and tears were streaming from her eyes. McCoy hadn’t even known Klingons had tear ducts. Her guffaws eventually turned into chuckles before dying away into the smirkiest smirk he’d ever seen, and he’d been living in close proximity to Jim for the last five years, so that was saying something.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she tossed Jim a bottle of something green and sludgy. “Jellied Gree-worm,” she said. “Gree-worms are served as a delicacy in many cultures. Analyze it first to see if your feeble human bodies will tolerate it, of course, but I think it will work.”

She continued. “You know, before we spoke, I had been planning to destroy your ship, but honestly now I’d feel bad about it. It would be like kicking an especially dimwitted tribble. And then when I first saw you, I thought about teaching you Klingon mating rituals, but… I’m not attracted to dimwitted tribbles. If you two qoH represent Starfleet’s best and brightest, the Federation is in deep baktag.”

“Hey!” Jim protested hotly, ready to defend them both, Bones was sure. He jabbed Jim’s side with the forefinger of the hand not currently stuck to Jim’s hip. It would be just like Jim to get so passionate in defending them that he’d convince B’Etorra that they were worthy opponents after all, and they’d end up in an armed battle with a Klingon warship. Jim craned his neck around to look at Bones with a wounded expression and Bones muttered, “Shut up, you idiot.”

“What?” Jim asked, under his breath. “I can’t let her get away with insulting us like that!”

“You can and you will,” said McCoy firmly. Jim sulked, but gave in and turned around.

“So then, what can we do for you?” Jim asked B’Etorra, only a little sullenly.

“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to come see this for myself. I had thought to use my crushing military victory over your ship to advance my position within the Klingon Empire, but the video of you two Qa’Hom hailing my ship with your genitals stuck together, asking for my help, will garner me much more admiration and fame than merely killing you.”

“My genitals aren’t stuck anywhere,” Jim pointed out, apparently concerned about the anatomical accuracy of B’Etorra’s recitation. Bones slapped him on the side of the head, hard. “Ow, Bones!” Jim complained.

B’Etorra looked at Bones consideringly. “The captain addresses you with a name indicating that you are a deadly warrior. And you show a pleasing tendency towards violence,” she said. “You might be a worthy mate for a Klingon after all.”

Bones was about to start explaining that good god, no, he wouldn’t be a worthy Klingon mate, not a warrior at all, oath to do no harm, etc., but then B’Etorra shook her head somewhat reluctantly and said, “But…. No. Not interested in a dimwitted tribble, not even one as hot as ghe’tor.”

She gave them one last look, snickered again, and then said “Qapla! ” As she turned away, McCoy was pretty sure he heard her mutter, “You’ll need it.”

One bottle of foul-smelling Gree-worm jelly and two even more putrid bowls of Plomeek soup later, Bones finally eased his dick free of its prison in Jim’s ass. They both groaned in relief.

“Jim, I give up,” Bones said. “We’re obviously cursed. I’m never putting my penis anywhere near your anus ever again.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bones,” mused Jim. “I mean, if not for the way things turned out, we’d have been attacked by the Klingon ship and we might’ve all died. And if the Enterprise had been attacked, it would have been all-out war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Really, when you think about it, we saved billions of lives, just by getting your dick glued into my butthole. Moby is a hero, Bones!”

McCoy was pretty sure there was something deeply wrong with that analysis of the situation, but he was damned if he could figure out what it was. A hero, huh? Well, maybe he could live with that. And maybe, maybe one day he’d even be willing to try fucking Jim’s pert little ass again.

Tags: fic: trek, pairing: kirk/mccoy, series: the moby chronicles
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