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*Getting the party started*

I wrote this a couple months ago for the following prompt from stxi_sinfest:
And just to lay with you, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do save lay my rifle down ("Here I Dreamt I was an Architect")

Don't be scared of the mirrorverse--it's very mild in this fic.

Title: Courting
Author: izzyfics
Pairing(s): Kirk/McCoy, Chekov/Chapel (all Mirrorverse)
Summary: When the presents started arriving, McCoy was baffled
Rating: NC-17 for sex, language, references to violent acts, light bondage (you know, the usual MU stuff, except this includes FLUFF)

He could make it an order—God knows McCoy had been waiting for a summons since the first time Kirk had leisurely eyed his fully-clothed form up and down so blatantly that he felt he was standing naked in the middle of his goddamn sickbay.

As an officer, he had the privilege of choosing his sexual partners, but Kirk had the privilege of ordering whoever he damn well pleased into his bed.

But, for some reason, no order came. It was making McCoy nervous, so much so that he wished his communicator would signal so that he wouldn’t have to wait anymore.

When the presents started arriving, he was baffled.

“Chapel, get in here,” he barked.

“Yes, doctor?” She looked amused by the box of chocolates he was holding in his hand and the aged whiskey he pointed to that sat innocently on his desk.

“Where the hell did these come from?” Now she was openly smirking—the woman was too confident, not that he denied her deadly skill with a knife or a poisonous hypo, but it was damned inconvenient when he was trying be intimidating.

“The captain, of course.”

“You’re sure?” He opened the lid of the heart-shaped box and peered inside, expecting something like a finger of his mortal enemy or something—he had heard the rumors about Kirk’s idea of a good time—but the scent of rich expensive chocolate wafted into the air and he breathed it in deeply in spite of himself.

“He tried to sneak it in here while you were off-shift, but I caught him.” She looked satisfied, content that nothing had escaped her notice when McCoy left her in charge of his sickbay. “I believe the captain is courting you.”

“Bite your tongue, woman.” He put the chocolates down on his desk and wearily rubbed his face with his hands. “Guess I better go talk to him.”

“That might be for the best.” She smothered her grin before turning on her heel as he glared at the back of her head, wishing, not for the first time, that he was the type to send his staff to the agony booth for annoying him.

*

The talk waited a while as Kirk was on-planet trapped into negotiations with a formerly hostile society. “Negotiation” was a loose term for what he was doing, though, as word came back that there had been an abrupt change in their treaty in favor of the Terran Empire because of their leader’s disfiguration under Kirk’s hand.

Even in the midst of his duties on-planet, the captain had managed to influence Leonard’s daily life. First, he found a rare flower on his desk, wrapped around the bottle of whiskey he was scared to open. Sulu confirmed that it was found only in the desert climate of Earth and was rumored to be an aphrodisiac. Knowing how testy Sulu could be when questioned, McCoy refrained from asking him why the fuck he needed an aphrodisiac.

Then his real-water shower allotment for the week increased dramatically. When he asked Yeoman Rand, he was told that Kirk had transferred his ration to McCoy’s room.

“For God’s sake, why?”

She blushed at the question and hurried away before she could see McCoy punch a wall and curse colorfully at anyone lucky enough to be nearby.

Dreaded delta-shirt duties were lightened, PADDs holding patient’s charts magically appeared completed on his desk, his favorite foods were served to him in the mess, and he never had to see Spock’s face.

Courted? More like fucking owned.

*

A week later, McCoy was enjoying a scorching hot real-water shower. He had stopped questioning his new acquisitions as it just made everyone give him nervous, or, in the case of Chapel and that damned Russian ensign she was fucking, knowing looks. He walked out of his bathroom and almost dropped his towel at the sight of Kirk lounging on his bed without his shirt on. He sighed.

“What do you want, Captain?” He actually had a good idea what he wanted from the impressive erection tenting his uniform trousers that he didn’t bother to hide.

“Oh, calm down, Bones. I’m not going to jump on you.” McCoy turned his back on him to find a clean pair of pants so that he didn’t have to have this conversation bare-assed.

“—yet,” Kirk added.

“Come. Sit.” Kirk patted the bed next to him invitingly when McCoy turned around. Leonard could feel himself softening despite his better judgment, as well as the faint stirring of a desire long suppressed.

As soon as he lay on the bed, he found himself pinned under the other man’s considerable weight, arms held above his head. He should have known—Kirk loves to have the element of surprise on his side.

“Did you like the flower?” He asked this as he started kissing his way down McCoy’s chest, stopping to nip almost harshly on the sensitive nubs. “Did it turn you on?” McCoy turned his head away from his face, remembering how hard he had come, staring at that bottle of whiskey with the innocuous flower hanging off of it and wondering why he was imagining Kirk bending him over his desk and relieving his intense arousal.

“God, Kirk. What is your game here?” he asked the wall, still pretending Kirk was not licking his way down his stomach, that he wasn’t getting hard from the warm breath on his skin.

“I want you, Bones. And I want you willing.” He pushed his hand under the elastic and palmed Leonard’s erection as he gasped into the pillow, spreading his legs unconsciously in a wordless invitation for more. Kirk chuckled. “Maybe I didn’t really have to worry about the willing part.” His thumb curved around the tip and it took all of McCoy’s strength to not whimper.

Their pants were off in no time and Kirk prepared his ass carefully before he slicked up and inexorably pushed in to the hilt. McCoy tried to reach up and touch him, but Kirk shook his head. “No. You just keep those hands above your head.” The captain had placed his phaser, agonizer, and multitude of knives on the bedside table, within reach if need be. Leonard didn’t question the action, because there was no way in hell McCoy trusted the man in charge of this ship and could understand keeping weapons close at hand.

Want in spite of himself? Yes. Trust? Hell, no.

In lieu of digging his fingers into Kirk’s backside, he wrapped his legs around him to move him along. “Move faster, Jim. Dammit.” His cock was trapped between their bodies and Kirk was being a bastard and not touching him and he wanted to come so badly he was shaking, hands clutching the headboard so tightly he could feel the metal cutting into his palms.

He rode him slowly though, continuing the seduction started over a week ago, building the pressure until McCoy wanted to grab the phaser and use it to gain relief. Finally, finally he sped up and stroked his cock in rhythm until he spilled all over his stomach. Kirk still took a while to come, showing off his control in an agonizing way.

When he finally did, he did so silently, collapsing on the side closest to his weapons. McCoy’s eyes were closed when he felt the soft cloth circle his wrists. It really wasn’t a surprise to find his hands tied loosely to the headboard.

“You were good, Bones. Not breaking position, I mean. But I want to sleep here.”

“Always knew you were a kinky bastard, Kirk. Chocolates and restraints, huh?”

“Gotta do what works. It worked on making you willing.” He curled up behind him and placed a possessive arm around his waist. If McCoy didn’t value his life and his title, it would be tempting to spread the news that their dangerously quick-with-a-knife captain was a cuddler.

“Not much of choice, really,” he murmured to the wall, but Kirk was already snoring in his ear.

**

Bonus Scene:

Christine glared down at the man underneath her, squeezing her legs tightly around his slight hips, causing him to arch deeper inside of her.

"Why don't you ever send me presents?"

His bow-shaped mouth gaped open in surprise, then muttered something in Russian that Christine knew had to be filthier than "I'm sorry," or even "start moving."

He placed his hands squarely on her hips and moved her up and down on his cock without much effort. Hand-to-hand training with Sulu and Kirk was making his arms stronger so he didn't always have to rely on his dodging skills in fighting.

"I don't send you presents because I already have you."

It wasn't the right thing to say and Christine thought about being angry, but he reached up to thumb her clit and she lost her words under the intense pleasure.

Later, collapsed on top of her after their second bout, he whispered in her ear, “I thought I already gave you the gift of Roger."

She smiled against his shoulder, remembering all the blood.

"Yes. Yes, you did."

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