Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: Kirk, Joanna McCoy
Disclaimer: They aren't mine and I'm broke. This is just for fun and not profit. Please don't sue.
She clings to him in the dark looking for some kind of warmth where there is none, blood tacky and drying between them, and she’s cursing at him, screaming with lungs that are still burning from smoke inhalation when he pulls in an unsteady breath that has tears streaming down her face in relief rather than grief or anger. She kisses him because he’s alive. She kisses him because she’d thought he’d been lost. She kisses him for a million reasons that have nothing to do with the here and now.
They don’t talk about it when they’re back on the ship because she makes sure the opportunity is never presented despite the fact that she thinks about it almost obsessively. Or maybe because she does. She goes out of her way to avoid him but she catches his eyes on her. Those blue eyes follow her movements when she’s in the same room that he is, and her heart accelerates to an almost painful rate. Joanna escapes to somewhere he isn‘t. He waits.
It’s when she’s looking in the opposite direction that she feels the hand tightening on her wrist and tugging her down a corridor. His grip is like a vice and she’s too stunned to react until the hand that isn’t holding onto her threads into her hair and tilts her head up to his. For a long moment she’s lost to the kiss, to the feel of him pressed up against her. When he backs her into a wall is when she comes back to her senses and jerks away, a hissed What are you doing? getting thrown at him. He smiles that impossibly smug grin of his and brushes the pad of his thumb across her lips.
“I thought that part was obvious.”
And this time she flees.
Days go by where she manages to avoid him, the only problem being that she can’t avoid her own thoughts. Her mind torments her by supplying her with the moments between them in vivid clarity, over and over. The man has a reputation for a reason, something she reminds herself of after every one of these walks down memory lane. She has no desire to be another one of his cast offs even if a small part of her wonders if it wouldn’t be worth it.
Jo slips into bed to try and find some kind of relief but even her subconscious conspires against her, filling her dreams with Jim’s touch and the taste of him, making her toss restlessly beneath her blankets until the sound of her door sliding closed brings her semi-alert.
He’s standing there, and she knows it’s him, because no one else could have overridden her code.
She pulls the sheet around her before telling him to get out. He settles himself down in the chair next to her bed before calling for the lights. It would be too easy for him to proposition and for her to turn him down. Instead, he goes for a different question. She can’t imagine Jim is used to anyone turning him down and he accuses her of sending mixed signals when she tells him she isn’t interested. She clarifies that she isn’t interested in becoming a notch on his bed post. His expression is dark when he leaves the chair for her bed so he can invade her personal space, forcing her to look at him when he informs her that he wouldn’t risk his best friend for anything so trivial.
When he kisses her this time she doesn’t fight, and she doesn’t pull away. Jim presses the advantage and Joanna already knows that this is a battle she’s going to lose. That it’s a battle she lost when she first gave in to the need that drove her on that god forsaken planet.. His hand slips beneath her camisole to brush at the underside of her breast and she’s not even sure she wants to win if it means giving this up. He’s going to be the death of her, she decides, and then she’s pulling the silk up and over her head.
There are worse ways to go.