Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: Kirk, Joanna McCoy
Disclaimer: They aren't mine and I'm broke. This is just for fun and no profit is being made. Please don't sue.
Summary: Song here.
He thinks Joanna should’ve stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this. It’s nothing that Bones would approve of, and he’s damn sure that vein in his forehead would start throbbing at the thought of his not so little girl stepping foot inside this kind of establishment. The surprising thing is that, while she should stick out like a sore thumb, he’s actually shocked to discover the brunette he’s been eyeing since he walked through the door is none other than his newest nurse. He wonders what she’s doing here and asks as much when he sidles up beside her and she fires back with a coy “I could ask you the same thing except I‘m pretty sure I already know.”
It turns out they both come to the farthest, darkest dump they can find to outrun their respective reputations, or worse yet, the shadows of their respective fathers. And isn’t that just another surprise to add to the pile, to realize they have more in common than a certain CMO. He almost feels guilty that he keeps comparing the two McCoys in his mind while they talk; she’s just as easy to laugh with, her taste in liquor is just as refined, except she’s softer, strong as steel where it matters, but delicate in ways that mark her as a woman. Oh yeah, and her breasts are to die for. Bones really can’t compete in that department.
She gives him a curious look when he chuckles to himself at the thought and he changes the subject by ordering her another drink. Jim chides her mock scornfully when she takes a solid swallow of it. In dives like the one they’re currently in pretty young women should never be trusting of free drinks they haven’t ordered themselves. Bartenders in this quadrant are too easy to bribe and alien chemicals are too easy to find. Jo simply tells him that she trusts him before downing the rest of the drink and stealing his.
They stare at each other from their stools and she’s her father’s daughter enough that he can recognize the look on her face for what it is. Jim’s pretty sure he would have recognized it even without the genetic markers seeing as he’s seen it enough over the years. The thing is he’s old enough to know better, at least that’s what the voice that he’s pretty sure is meant to be his conscience is telling him. This was Joanna. Joanna was off limits. He should say goodnight. He should say it, get up, and head back to the ship or some other bar to find someone to relieve the sudden tightness in his pants. Instead he takes his drink back and tells her that she shouldn’t trust him. In a place like this he isn’t her Captain. Here he’s just Jim. That voice perks up again and he shuts that pesky little annoyance up by drowning it with another two shots in rapid fire succession.
A little quirk of her lips later and his hand sliding up her thigh have them off the stools and out of the bar. Her breath is hot against his ear when she whispers the things she wants to do to him against the shell of his ear. They end up fucking in the alley and it’s every kind of dirty, wonderful, wrong he might have imagined when he slips inside that tight, wet heat. When they finish she straightens herself up, ignoring the bruises that are already forming on her arm from where he’d held her to him and walks back inside-- just another girl alone at the bar.