Author's notes: Originally written for the st_xi_kink meme here
McCoy honestly doesn't know why he comes to these things.
The answer is pretty obvious in that it's his overly hormonal roommate who drags him, but he doesn't know why Jim makes the effort. Once they arrive at the abode of whatever cadet who still should be in diapers, he is abandoned for the flirting and subsequent sexing of whatever lovely women will give Jim the time of day. Which is most of them.
What he wants is to be back in his own quiet dorm with a book and a scotch. What he really wants is to be back home. He wants to have his daughter closer than a video conference away; the wife is optional, but he's a creature of habit, and always liked somebody to come home to. However that option fell by the wayside long ago, even before the divorce became official. Right now he is sitting on a sofa in said cadet's off campus lodgings, talking to nobody, and looking around him at those who have gathered, feeling like he's their fucking father.
He's not going to let Jim talk him into one of these parties again.
With a sigh McCoy grabs the drink he's been nursing, something that tastes remarkably like cat piss, and tries to find refuge. He'd just leave, but he figures it will be about an hour before Jim needs help escaping some mindless ninny who's latched on for the night. Usually it's some sort of medical emergency he's supposed to confirm, though sometimes Jim implies he's his jealous lover. Once upon a time he'd taken umbrage, but after two years of this McCoy has just stopped caring.
There's a balcony off the living room - obviously whatever future minion of a security officer is hosting this thing comes from money. McCoy makes his escape, narrowly dodging two people he recognizes from his xenobiology class who are trying their very best to suck each others face off. Already he can picture life aboard a Federation starship - he's going to be doing nothing but treating a variety of STDs.
It's a relief to get out into the open air. Unfortunately, he realizes he's not alone.
"You didn't have to light it for me," Andrew Goodman is saying chidingly, "and you realize you're supposed to give it back." It's not like McCoy is actually thinking of him as 'Andrew'. After years of Jim snickering in his ear he can think of the man as nothing else except 'Cupcake'. He's standing beside the one woman who has repeatedly proved immune to his roommate's charms, despite his best efforts. Uhura is holding a large cigar between her fingers, intermittently taking a puff as she looks out over San Francisco.
"You don't know what you're doing with a thing like this," she says, nearly ignoring him, and McCoy can appreciate the fine cigar for what it is just from the sight and the smell. He wonders where Cupcake would get something that was pretty much illegal on Earth.
Cupcake snickers, but doesn't comment. They are both thinking the same thing, that she is rolling a large phallic symbol between her fingers.
Uhura's glance flickers towards him, "You're bugging me."
"Oh come on, I came out here to. . . ."
"You came out here to try and get me to come back to your dorm," Uhura rolls her eyes, "which isn't going to happen, no matter what your taste in cigars. Go back to the party and go find some first year cadet from Kansas who is heartbroken over whatever boyfriend she left back home."
"I'm not. . . "
Her glance is amused. "It's not going to happen, Andrew. Go find somebody who's impressed by your, uh, physical prowess."
It's obvious that Cupcake wants to argue, but a quelling glance from Uhura causes him to basically froth at the mouth before he turns and stalks back into the party - pushing past McCoy, not caring when their shoulders collide. It's rather obvious she's not up for company, but McCoy doesn't care. If he goes back inside it's going to be another conversation with somebody like that idiot that's going to make him want to turn a phaser on himself.
He might be past his prime compared to these children, but he's still a man, and he pauses again in the doorway to enjoy the sight. She's standing at the balcony edge, holding a cigar in one hand and her drink in another. As she leans over, obviously trying to see further below, the hem of her skirt slides up and almost exposes him to a view that would set him for life.
It's a shame when she leans back. Still, it's a fucking beautiful sight.
What he should do if he was any kind of friend is fetch Jim. The other man would probably get off on it for a month. He's enjoying it too much though to do so. He has no desire to watch his friend crash and burn again anyway.
"Are you planning on coming out anytime soon?" She's caught sight of him, and still has that half amused look on her face.
McCoy smirks, he can't help it. "Just admiring the view."
He steps out onto the terrace though, and Uhura rolls her eyes as she turns back towards the skyline. "It's a shame," she says, "I thought I could almost come to like you. Don't tell me you're planning on turning into the next James T. Kirk. There are only so many fumbling advances I can handle in one day."
"It wouldn't be fumbling," he counters, leaning beside her with his back to the skyline, watching her.
"Is this the part where you make some reference to the part where you're a man and the rest of the cadets are boys?" That half amused face is still in place, and he wants to kiss it off her, maybe fuck it off her if he got the chance. He's not a man to pine, but she's a gorgeous and brilliant woman, with a bit of common sense. It's more than he can say for most of Starfleet's best and brightest. She's also never dipped her nub in that proverbial fleet ink, which again can't be said for most of them. He's fairly sure she's more than a few years his junior, but with her it's easy to forget.
"If the shoe fits," McCoy snorts. "However I'm not going to feed your ego for the night I think."
Something flickers in her gaze, finally. "You think that's what it's all about?"
He shrugs. "I think you play games."
"What more would you like me to do McCoy? I'm blatantly open with the fact I don't want to sleep around, and with certain men specifically. Still, it's men like your friend that keep pursuing me, men like Andrew. I do nothing to draw them in. Besides," she adds, and an emotion crosses her face he can't quite pinpoint, "not everybody lusts after me, trust me."
"You want to entice," he says. His hand glides over the curve of her ass down to them hem of her skirt without touching; her eyes narrow, but he slides it away to rest it behind him. "You wouldn't dress like that if you didn't."
"Like what?" Uhura's gaze is challenging, taking a step closer to him.
"Like you want to be fucked," he says bluntly, not sugar coating the words. McCoy lets the drawl deepen, emphasizing the good old southern accent he can pour on. "Darlin, you look like you want somebody to bend you over that balcony and make you come."
"Really?" Her look is dismissive, "You men are all the same. I don't dress any way because I'm gagging for it. I dress to feel good, I dress to look good. I don't have to dress like a nun just because I'm around boys all day who can't control their libido."
She has a point. Doesn't change how she looks though. It doesn't mean that sometimes, just sometimes, she doesn't get a little bit of a thrill out of it. Desire's a validation, experience has taught him that.
"Is this the part where I'm supposed to reinforce the fact I'm a 'man'?" McCoy says in bemusement, letting the topic drift. "You left such a perfect opening."
"Are you to be another one of my trailing crowd then?" She seems almost disappointed, "I thought better of you, McCoy."
It's been years since he realized he was never going to understand the female mind, and tonight is no exception. A little bit though, he doesn't think that she really understands her own mind either. He only shrugs, never drifting towards her, and his gaze is clinical even if the interplay, the cigar, and her dress have all got him more aroused than he's been in a month. "I want you," he says, "I'd fuck you. Hell, for you I'd probably even buy you breakfast in the morning, but I was done with being a love sick fool a long time ago."
It almost surprises him when her lips quirk. "Most romantic thing I've ever heard."
"Well, you wanted a man darlin' - not one of those sweet talking boys who will tell you all the lies you want to hear."
"If we let something happen," Uhura says, "they will all be thinking I'm fair game - that I'll drop my panties for anybody."
He shrugs, "Honest to God truth? You'll stop being so unattainable. It will drive most of them right off. You want to get rid of Jim? He wants you just because he can't have you."
"You're suggesting that I fuck you just to. . . "
He cuts her off. "God, no. I'm suggesting we get involved for our mutual satisfaction. I'm a doctor, not a fucking gigolo - it's not going to get around."
Somehow in the last few minutes this has become a viable option for the both of them somehow. She is not toying with him here. When it comes right down to it leading on a man is not something that she does. Casual flirtations maybe, but not even really that. She really would turn a guy away if she wasn't interested.
The word takes him a back, and he looks a little dumbfounded for a moment. "Excuse me."
Uhura licks her lips before taking another puff of the cigar, "Okay." She isn't even looking at him, she's looking out over the city. For a moment his cock hardens so much he wants nothing more to throw her down on the concrete floor and forget every mockery he's ever made of Jim and his sexual exploits. Maybe right now it's a little bit of a game to her too, making the admission too casually, pretending she isn't affected by it at all.
"Okay then," he agrees, keeping his tone light and even.
It's obvious she's thinking they will wait politely until home time, heading back to one of their respective dorms. Normally that would be his preference as well, but he wants to affect her and torture her. Besides, the sight of her is practically making him come in and of itself - every time she rolls the cigar around in her mouth he can picture those same lips and tongue swirling his cock and he practically goes blind from the arousal.
McCoy shifts slightly, pushing off and turning until he's behind her - one arm braced to her left side. The other though, it drifts to the swell of her ass and down. Uhura starts, "What. . . "
"Just keep watching the view," he says with a half chuckle. Already he is inching up her tiny little skirt.
"Thought you weren't a gigolo McCoy," her words though are said on a gasp.
Right now nobody can see them. His body obscures her, slender as it is, and the jacket he's wearing billows out slightly. If somebody looked out the window right now they would see an intimate position, but not a sexual one. The thing is though that somebody could come out, they could see, and instead of making McCoy retreat for once it is making him move forward.
He gives her every chance to move away. His fingers move ever so slowly - but she only gasps softly as he traces the curve of her. She only quivers as he fingers the short skirt she is wearing and slides it up. She moans though, in anticipation, as his fingers slide along the inside of her thigh, moving ever so slowly - teasing her. McCoy leans forward for a moment, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, and she arches both neck and body to aid him.
When he finally touches her there, his caress is only feather light and teasing, his fingers slipping away before she can press back against him.
It's obvious she wants more, but she doesn't beg. Much as McCoy would like her to, he doesn't think she ever will. The catch of her breath in frustration, that she probably doesn't even know she makes, is enough to encourage him.
He lets his fingers slide down again, this time not pausing until he is deep inside her. Her body moves to facilitate the angle, and he rests his other hand on her hip to keep her from going too far.
Then, he toys with her, with sliding fingers and flickering touches until she is shuddering around him hand in orgasm, and he is half supporting her with his body. Still though, she doesn't cry out, she doesn't give any indication to the people just meters away that he has successfully finger fucked her. It's with satisfaction and regret that he removes his fingers, settling her back down, sliding her skirt down over her - only letting his touch linger slightly on the inside of her thighs before pulling back. They smell like sex, the two of them, and his fingers are still wet from her.
Uhura turns, and he finally gets her full expression. She might play at indifference, but she certainly isn't.
He smirks, he can't help it. "Good for you darlin'?"
For a moment, he actually thinks she might hit him, and he's fairly sure he'd go down hard. They don't exactly teach combat to medical officers. It's obvious she thinks he is taking this as a game, and would happily castrate him for it. A million asshole comments run through his mind that he could make, but won't. He's not that guy, and she's not that girl. He really does want to fuck her until she can't stand, and where they aren't going to overseen by those idiots.
He finishes his own thought, as he slides closer, pressing her back against the balcony this time. "Hope so, cause it was fucking amazing for me." He notices the cigar is still held by her, not dropped even in orgasm.
Uhura licks her lips. "You know, I really do know what to do with a. . . .cigar." There is enough hesitation to let him know what she really means.
His grin is wide. "I can rig the door to keep my randy bastard of a roommate out."