notabricklayer | (no subject)

(no subject)

Morning comes slowly, which is something of a novelty to McCoy - he heads in early, and heads out late, just due to the nature of his work.

The second novelty comes when he wakes up enough to place himself, and there is a warm presence curled up beside him, heavy in the hollow of his shoulder. Memory flares back into existence, and he smiles into the early-morning dark.

He is really not sure how he got to be this lucky. He has no idea why she stayed with him, or even went forward with anything after he over-reacted.

He wonders if she meant what she made him promise.

There's only one way to find out, for certain. Very gently, almost regretfully, he smooths her hair back from her face (so peaceful, so beautiful) and presses a kiss to her brow.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

McCoy hums in happy response, giving her hands free rein - there are scars, of course, he's hardly lead a safe or sainted life... but for being a doctor he has precious little patience for being under treatment himself, and tends to take advise to 'take it easy' very lightly indeed. Of course, when his patients do the same, they get ripped up one side and down the other, but that's an entirely different issue.

Scars are nothing to her. She can read other things with her palms. Strange, how long it's been since he crossed a ley line. Curious. She must remember to inquire about that. Later.

Her hand strays lower, exploring the plane of his stomach, the hollow of his hip, down the inside of his thigh. All the while, listening to his breathing and his heart beat, listening to the soft sounds he makes when she does something he likes.

He groans as her hand strays lower, his body cheerfully reminding him just how fantastic last night was, and how wonderful it can be again today. Time for a little bit of recompense. Gently he tangles one hand in her hair, but the other travels up her side, cupping a breast in one warm hand.

Her head tips back into his hand, turning her face up to his kisses, and there's a hitch in her breath as his thumb finds her nipple again. Her lips part against his, but she keeps the contact light, teasing, urging him to follow her as she rolls onto her back.

Willingly he follows, kneeling between her legs, and he immediately puts this new position to use, leaning forward to bid a very happy good morning to her breasts, nipping and laving and sucking at a lazy, decadent pace. There is no call at all to be rushing this right here.

Her hands stroke through his hair, her head pressing back into the pillows. She loves the feel of his weight above her, loves that he's taking the time to wake up every inch of skin under his mouth.

He does something with his tongue and her breath hisses over her teeth, the sound echoing in the small room. Her legs wrap around his waist, her heels stroking over his ass and down the back of his thighs.

He smiles against her skin, and repeats that move, before shifting to the other side. It is marvelous, simply marvelous, how soft her skin is there, the scent of her, the taste of her and the sweat dried on her skin from last night.

And for the record, he may have to get her a pair of spurs, later. That could quickly become a favorite thing, right there

Her grip tightens in his hair, and she can't help the soft guttural sound that escapes from her throat. She closes her eyes and lets go, losing herself to the warm current of pleasure he's pouring over her. Instinct makes her hips roll beneath him, subtle but unmistakeable.

She could get used to this.

Very unmistakable, actually. Acutely so. It is difficult to be controlled at this hour (whatever this hour might be) of the morning, but McCoy is a man on a mission. He has to thank her properly for... well. Everything.

And he sort of loves that sound. He'll have to see if he can get her to make it more often. Satisfied that he has managed to bid good morning to her breasts, he slips further down, exploring the edge of her ribcage and the hollows of her abdomen and he pauses to dip his tongue into the hidden crevices of her belly button and slowly lower, trying not to miss anything at all.

Her stomach muscles flutter under his mouth, and her hands shift to his shoulders, her blunt nails trailing across his skin. She's still shifting restlessly beneath him, but she's not about to hurry him along.

The distant, still somewhat rational part of her mind thinks he's got an unfair advantage. The non-verbal, aching with anticipation part thinks that she should just shut up and enjoy the man's unparalleled expertise in such matters.

If only McCoy knew she thought that. What an ego boost for the guy who serves on board with one of the most... adventurous captains in the fleet. And who frequently has to deal with the aftermath, which has earned Kirk repeated lectures, even this early on in their tour.

Lower, lower, and he pauses after pressing a kiss to the crest of her pubic bone, and glances up. His blue eyes are curious and cheerful, his expression questioning - is she alright with this, should he go on?

There's just enough light bleeding through the blinds to cast gentle shadows along the planes of her body. The sight before his eyes is of a woman in her prime, generous curves with a dancer's body. Her pale skin is flushed and he can see a light sheen of sweat and the telltale marks of his kisses on her breasts and belly.

Somewhere along the line, she pushed the pillows aside, and her arms have moved over her head so she can grip the edge of the mattress. Her strong legs have shifted to rest over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back. Her head has tipped back and her eyes are closed, a look of fierce concentration on her aquiline features.

He hesitates and she holds her breath, her teeth fixed in her lower lip. Her hips never cease their gentle undulation, and one hopes he doesn't need verbal confirmation that his tender ministrations are very much welcome.

Message received, and again he is struck by how very lucky he has been lately. This beautiful lady surely had no cause to allow him this kind of freedom.

Lucky, lucky son of a gun.

Gratefully he returns to his self-appointed task. The scent of her is heady, intoxicating, the taste something he could rapidly become addicted to. He teases her, trying to find what she likes best.

Her reactions are subtle but palpable. The first brush of his lips sends a shiver through her body. The first wet swipe of his tongue draws another guttural moan from her throat. A light flickering touch and she tenses, shuddering with pleasure. A deep suckling kiss and she groans aloud, curling up to thrust her hands into his hair.

She guides him then, hands and heels, feeling the way he takes direction, the way he listens to her. It's his most attractive feature so far, his desire to please her so thoroughly. Her hips roll against his mouth, her inhibitions fading as the pleasure mounts.

He finds the particular triggers she reacts to, and that moan just goads him on further. Her reactions, her passion, all of it is heaven for him. Happily he sets into a steady, driving rhythm, filling himself with the taste of her.

It's a glorious slow ascension, and she revels in every sweet moment of it. Steady is good. Driving is oh so good. He's gentle and relentless and she thinks she might just die here and that would be perfectly fine with her.

He can tell she's nearing the end when she arches back, her voice tight and quiet, soft cries ground out through parted lips in time with the press and release of her hips.

He stays with her, his hands firm over her hips to keep her from arching right off the bed, enjoying her gloriously exuberant enjoyment. Her fall, abrupt and beautiful, is a point for his pride if nothing else - it's always good to know that skills haven't been lost.

Soothingly, he strokes her thighs while waiting for her to relax again, his rhythm slowing, but damn it's hard not to grin like an idiot.

She covers her face with her hands for a moment, hiding the breathless smile that she can't seem to shake. Aftershocks still ripple through her, and every sweet touch sends another rocketing up her spine. When she can breathe again, she brushes her hair back and looks at him, smirking, gently rising to pull him up her body.

She lays back, her heels keeping him close, her hands wiping away the slickness from his chin. She can taste herself on his lips, and that makes that smug grin of his that much easier to bear. She growls against his mouth,

"Fuck me."

Short. Sweet. To the point.

Effective.

Very effective.

He stares at her for a brief moment, wondering, his eyes darkening further as he studies her flushed face. That, however, is one command he has no intention of refusing. His lips crash down on hers in a fierce, plundering kiss, and after a few moments of adjustment he is buried inside her, her heat setting his blood on fire.

She returns that kiss with a rare passion, her arms winding around his neck. He thrusts into her, and she gasps, groans aloud, rising up to meet him. Her strong legs wind around his waist and she breaks the kiss, pushing him up so he can get better leverage. It's her turn to watch, and she does, with wide grey eyes and a wanton ghost of a smile.

It's been a very long time since she's had a good seeing to, and judging by the look of utter bliss washing over her features, he is just what the doctor ordered.

He only comes in prescription strength, but if used with a doctor's supervision, very effective.

"You are amazing." He breathes, bracing himself over her. That smile may be one of the sexiest things he's seen, just visible in the early morning light. "Simply amazing."

He's not too sure he can stand too much more of this, but he can definitely stand with finding out. He is a very rigorous scientist, and this experiment bears taking to completion.

And as any scientist would tell you, repeatable results are the only true test.

She's dancing with him now, her hands braced on his forearms, her hips moving in counterpoint, taking what she needs from him, and feeding it back to him tenfold.

"Not quite," she breathes, laughing softly. "You can still -- ah -- speak."

He grins lopsidedly at her grin, but it's a short-lived expression. Her movement is utterly destroying his mind, focusing on her body under and around him.

"I'm stubborn." He admits, but only with a struggle to remember what he's supposed to be saying in the first place. McCoy likes her dancing. Likes it quite a lot, actually.

"I like that, about you."

She pulls him back down for another searing kiss, holding him close so she can feel his heart pounding. The shift in angle draws another long, shuddering sigh from deep in her chest. Her eyes close and she gives herself over to it, letting the heat and pleasure overwhelm her senses all over again, long slow pulses twisting through her frame.

He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he is going to be sore as hell later today, maybe tomorrow.

He doesn't give a damn though.

He drops his head to her shoulder, his breath harsh in his throat, everything tight and heavy and need, aching grasping need grips him like a fever, unshakable and overwhelming.

And then his world explodes, fire and light and release and this wonderful woman in his arms.