browngirl | The One Concerning Simplicity (Star Trek XI Ficlet, NC-17 with warnings)

Title: The One Concerning Simplicity
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.
Pairing: Captain Kirk/Leah McCoy
Summary: "Now that was simple, wasn't it?"
Content Advisory: Dubious consent, explicit sex, genderswap, Mirrorverse.
Acknowledgements: Written for

weepingnaiad: "M!Kirk/M!Leah with the prompt 'simple'."
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me (though I've made a few modifications).

"C'mon, Bones," he whispers over her temple, breath puffing like the pressure of a hypo, two fingers twisting and plunging inside her and hot tears burning tracks down her face. "C'mon, one more time," as his thumb rubs a steady flicker over her clit, on and off and on and off and she digs her blunt nails into his shoulders but even her head thrashes in his tempo. "C'mon, come for me," low and insistent into her ear as his fingers burn inside her and her nerves burn under her skin and she tries again to order him off her and all that comes from her mouth is a hitching whimper.

And he just laughs, and pushes harder, speeding up, and her back bows up off the bed, her head drives back into the pillow and her breasts crush into his chest, as his knuckles bruise pleasure into her. She told him she was done two orgasms ago and she knows she's done, so sore she's throbbing, but he's determined, he won't let up, she presses her face into his shoulder as she sobs, she kicks her heel into his thigh and he just grinds his hips down in a little swivel, nudging her thighs that much wider, tugging that much tighter on her hair as he fingers her even harder and his teeth press smooth-hard-bright against her skin. "One more, Bones," he rumbles, hard against the crease of her hip, shudders propagating from his chest into hers, and he won't stop even when she tries to close her trembling fingers into a fist.

All she manages is clutching his hard-muscled shoulder that much tighter. All she manages is tilting her hips into his relentless thrusts, into the searing sensation washing down her nerves under his hand. She can't again, she doesn't want this, she wants not to want him, she wants... lights erupt behind her eyes and her body clenches and spasms into coming, her lungs seize and hitch and she sobs aloud, shuddering, shattering, collapsing.

"That's it," he mutters, kissing her forehead, her squeezed-shut eyes, the tear-tracks scalded down her cheeks. "That's my girl," he murmurs over her throat, teeth like blades at her pulse as she sobs and sobs and can't fucking stop, as his broad hands pull back and push her knees up and he slides into her in one thick hard thrust. "So gorgeous," he pants as he fucks her and she clutches him helplessly and cries and cries, deep sobs bouncing off her diaphragm as he plunges into her faster and faster. "My girl, my beauty, my fucking gorgeous girl," as he slides his hand up her side and thumbs her nipple and she twitches and arches and buzzes with overstimulation, as he slides it damp and sticky up her throat and she tries to thrash her head but he winds his fingers into her hair and holds her still and makes her take it. "Mine, mine, mine," he hisses in her ear with each thrust until his voice breaks high and he starts to come and he's so heavy on her, in her, she can't breathe, all she can hear and taste and feel is him.

"Fuck," he puffs, sooner than he should be able to, and she wants to curse and she's still crying. He licks her cheek, kisses beside her eye, drinks down her tears; she rips a hand away from his shoulder to wipe her face, to cover it as she turns her head until her hair twinges in his grip, until he nuzzles her hand aside to bite her lip lightly and push his tongue into her gasping mouth. She's still shaking, she feels like she's falling, she knows she's clutching him with the dregs of her strength, she can't tell herself she doesn't shape her lips to his and kiss him back.

When he eases off this time she finally says, "God fucking dammit," and breathes as deeply as she can with him still atop her, solid and muscular and impossible to dislodge. And that bastard Kirk just chuckles against her ear, so warmly she has to clench her eyes shut to keep herself from turning her head to see his sleepy blue eyes and sated, sunny smile.

"There we go, Bones," Kirk murmurs, lifting his other hand to bracket Leah's face between his long strong inescapeable fingers, "now that was simple, wasn't it?"