The BLTS Archive - Strong Drinks
by angie tallahassee (angie_galik@yahoo.com)

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Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Paramount. I can't help it if these
guys get stuck in my head sometimes. It's all a plot, anyway.

This is a short li'l hurt-comfort bit. Hope you like it. Feedback
adored.

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The door-chime chirped, and Kirk looked up from his book. He sighed,
marked the page with a strip of replicated blue velvet, and called,
"Come."

The door hissed open to admit Dr. McCoy, who, Kirk thought, looked
about as low as a body could look. The doctor gripped the neck of a
dark-brown bottle in one hand.

"Did I disturb you, Jim?" he asked -- almost timidly, Kirk noted with
some surprise.

"No, no -- not at all." Kirk stood up rapidly, knocking the antique
book to the floor. The bookmark slipped out of its place.

McCoy nodded, as though caught up in some inside conversation too
personal to share. "I thought you and I might -- you know, Jim, I hate
to drink alone," he said, offering the bottle as though it could say
the words he couldn't form.

The captain thought he understood. It hadn't been much more than
twenty-four hours since he, Spock, and McCoy had escaped from the
Vians. The doctor had been tortured almost unto death at the hands of
the powerful aliens; Kirk was not surprised that his friend sought
company after such an experience.

"I, uh - sure, Bones. Come on in," he said quickly, realizing that he
seemed hesitant. "What've you got there?"

McCoy glanced at the label, squinted for a moment; then looked back up
at Kirk with a smile. "I haven't a clue," he said.

Kirk chuckled. "Well, pour us a drink, and we'll see if it's lethal."
Inside he winced, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing.

The doctor didn't seem to have noticed. Kirk watched as he made his
way to the tiny cupboard where the captain kept his glasses. McCoy's
movements seemed stiff, tired. Kirk's heart went out to his friend,
but he had no idea how to help. A flash of memory suddenly pierced his
consciousness: McCoy hanging in mid-air in the dark lair of the Vians,
drenched in sweat and blood, chest heaving with labored breath. Kirk
inhaled sharply at the image; he blinked, and it dissolved, but his
chest felt tight with pain on his friend's behalf. McCoy had been
willing to give up everything to save Spock, willing to die, and
worse, die without dignity.

But then, Kirk mused, there must be great dignity in such sacrifice.

Unwilling to dwell in the realm of the past, Kirk focused his thoughts
once more on the living world around him and was rewarded when a cool
glass was placed in his hand. "Thanks, Bones," he said quietly, still
half-wandering.

McCoy gave him a slight smile and raised his glass as though making a
toast, but he said nothing. Slowly he put the drink to his lips, then,
in one great gulp, swallowed half the contents of his glass.

"Ugh," he grimaced. "That's -- whew! That is a potent beverage,
there!" He narrowed his eyes and glared at the glass, then finished it
off.

Kirk took it a bit more slowly. As McCoy poured himself a second
drink, the captain took a cautious sip. The liquid rolled smoothly
over his tongue, but burned his throat fiercely. He coughed, then
sipped again as tears formed in his eyes.

He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. "Good God, Bones, where did
you get this?"

The doctor had downed two glasses of the stuff already, but still
seemed perfectly sober. "I smuggled it," he said solemnly, "out of the
private collection of a certain Starfleet Medical Administrator."

"Why the hell would you steal some kind of alien alcohol when you
don't even know what it's called, from your -- what was it, your
supervisor?" Kirk was fairly certain there was a reasonable
explanation -- *fairly* certain.

"My professor." McCoy actually grinned at the memory. "It was a dare."
He paused. "Well, hell, I had to prove myself somehow, didn't I? I
wasn't about to go through all that cadet business!" He snorted with
laughter.

The words struck Kirk with rather more force, he thought, than had
been intended. To prove himself -- was that why he did it? Did he
really feel he had to prove his worth by giving up his life? Kirk took
a deep swallow of the strange brew. No, that was ridiculous. McCoy
knew better than that.

The doctor peered at Kirk. "You don't look well," he pronounced.

"Is that your official diagnosis, Doctor?" Kirk asked, in a weak
attempt to lighten the conversation.

McCoy considered -- Kirk *knew* his friend was trying to work in an
excuse to get him to sickbay for a checkup -- then twisted up his
mouth and said, "Yes, that's the diagnosis, Captain. You don't look
well." He said each word distinctly. Kirk knew he was bordering on
drunk. "I bet you don't feel well, either. In fact -- " he looked
around quickly. "I don't think I feel so hot, either." The words came
out very softly. "I need ... I'd better sit ... ohhh." He groaned, and
grabbed the captain's arm.

Kirk gently pried his friend's fingers off the glass that had by this
time been full and empty three times. He led McCoy to his bed and
forcibly sat him down so that the doctor was leaning against the wall.

"Thanks, Jim," McCoy said, not smiling. Beads of sweat had popped out
on his forehead. "I thought I was going down there."

"Don't worry about it." Kirk worried, though. He frowned. "Do you want
a cup of coffee?"

"I doubt if I could keep it down." He paused. "I was already gone, you
know, when I got here," he said, looking directly at Kirk. His head
sagged back against the wall. "You know I don't like to ... drink
alone ..." The Georgian drawl was clear in his voice.

"Yes, Bones, I know." Kirk sighed and sat down beside his friend. If
all the doctor needed was a place to sleep -- maybe he felt safer with
Kirk watching over him. The captain knew what it was like to be
depressed; he knew how much of a comfort it could be just to have
someone familiar around.

McCoy rubbed his forehead. "I -- I really appreciate this," he said
softly, with hardly any trace of an accent. "I shouldn't have come
like this ..."

"No, no, Bones, it's all right!" Kirk exclaimed. He stood up,
agitated. "You should know. I -- Bones, never think twice about coming
to me when you need ... someone to talk to." He offered a smile. "You
know I would show up at *your* door, drunk as an Orion, and you would
take me in."

"The difference --" McCoy stopped, as if gathering his saturated
thoughts. "The difference is that I would give you a damn good
lecture. Alcohol is not the way to deal with pain, you know." His eyes
had closed.

Kirk's smile softened. "Oh really, Doctor?"

"Mmm."

The captain studied McCoy. He was very still, pale -- he looked --
Well, he looked far too much like he had the day before. Again the
vision came into Kirk's mind, superimposing itself over the real-life
McCoy; he saw his friend, battered and near death, alone in the
underground complex.

*Noo,* he told himself slowly. *That's over now.* He closed his eyes
and took a deep breath, wondering what he would do if McCoy died right
there, right then, of alcohol poisoning. He shuddered, feeling sick.
Apparently, he thought, the doctor's diagnosis had been right on the
mark.

He leaned over McCoy's nearly motionless form, noticing with no small
amount of relief that the doctor was definitely breathing, if
shallowly. Kirk sat down wearily on the bed, leaning against the wall
next to McCoy. He exhaled deeply and considered getting a blanket for
the recliner, where he would most likely be sleeping.

When he turned his head to look at his friend, he was startled to see
that McCoy's eyes were open and staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Bones?" he said softly. "Are you all right?"

McCoy did not answer.

A cold finger of fear touched Kirk's heart. "Bones, answer me!" he
said, more urgently.

McCoy blinked -- an action that seemed to take some effort. "No," he
said, his voice slightly raspy.

Kirk was breathing deeply -- partly because of the alcohol and partly
because of the gladness that soared through him when McCoy finally
spoke. "What do you mean? No what?"

"No ... I am not all right," McCoy said clearly. Then suddenly, with a
grace that belied his deeply intoxicated state, he covered his face in
his hands.

Kirk felt a bit bewildered. For an instant he thought all would be
best if he simply left the room, left McCoy to (was he really crying?)
get it all out of his system in peace. Then he realized that the
doctor would not have come to him if he had wanted to be alone. He
leaned toward McCoy and touched his arm. "Bones ... I ... I can
listen, you know," he said awkwardly. He had never been known as a
'sensitive, caring' man -- that had always been his weakness in
relationships -- but he was determined to give his hurting friend
everything he was capable of giving.

(after all he gave it all for you ...)

Kirk shook his head violently to quiet the voice in his mind. It
almost completely worked.

The doctor responded to the touch. He lifted his head, and Kirk could
see marks of anguish written on his face. "I can still see them, Jim,"
he choked out. "I can -- feel their -- hands on me -- "

Kirk suffered a flash of insight. The doctor might have acted in a
selfless manner, but he was still human and very much prone to hurt.
McCoy had been ready to die, but hadn't expected to be spared from
death only to be tormented long after he was physically 'safe.' The
captain could hardly imagine what havoc the Vians must have wreaked in
his friend's mind; Kirk had been tortured by the aliens, but not
nearly to the same extent.

The situation seemed terribly urgent. "Let it out, Bones," Kirk
prodded. "You're ... safe here. You know that."

McCoy met Kirk's hazel eyes slowly. The captain's heart bled for his
friend. "You are safe with me," Kirk whispered.

McCoy's face, inches from Kirk's, was wet with tears. "Will they ever
go away?"

Kirk nodded numbly.

Their eyes were locked. "They hurt me," the doctor said, his voice
tinged with pain, barely audible.

Kirk was struck by how vulnerable McCoy looked at that moment. The
doctor sat propped against the wall, looking for all the world like he
didn't have the strength to move again. Kirk feared that too strong a
touch would break the doctor into pieces.

He searched for something to say, some words that would ease the pain,
but there were no such words. Instead of speaking then he reached
out and brushed McCoy's damp brown hair back from his forehead.

McCoy's eyes followed the captain's movement. They held no expression
at all as they watched Kirk's hand.

Kirk felt a chill. Suddenly he wanted to hold McCoy close to him, to
make him forget his terror ... before he could organize the flood of
thoughts that washed over him, he leaned over and gently kissed the
doctor's cheek.

McCoy tensed.

"I will take care of you," Kirk murmured, his lips against the
doctor's skin. He kissed the other man again, this time letting his
mouth linger for several heartbeats.

He ran his fingers over McCoy's shoulder, down his arm, and realized
to his surprise -- yes, he was still capable of surprise -- that he
felt decidedly aroused. Breathing deeply, he lowered his head and
planted a kiss on the doctor's neck, and the sweat tasted sweet.

The doctor's body went limp under Kirk's roving, persistent touch.
Kirk's lips found McCoy's, and he was delighted when the doctor
returned his warm kiss -- not deeply, but McCoy's lips were a gentle
pressure on his mouth. He put his arms around the doctor and eased
McCoy's weak body down so that McCoy was lying on his back. He lifted
his legs onto the bed and lowered himself onto one elbow, so that he
leaned over the doctor. Kirk was very much aware of his racing
heartbeat -- and it was becoming very hard to ignore the erection that
throbbed beneath his pants.

But, for just a moment, he hesitated and looked at McCoy, lying on the
bed and looking up at him with uncertainty in his eyes. Never in his
life had Kirk dreamed that he wanted to make love to one of his best
friends, but now he wanted nothing more -- and somehow he knew McCoy
wanted it too. It amazed him that the doctor had stayed so long, not
protesting; perhaps McCoy had the very same feelings. Then he noted
with interest that the doctor was wearing soft leather moccasins
instead of his regulation Starfleet boots, the detail made the entire
scene a touch more surreal. He smiled, leaned over and kissed his
friend again. This time he kissed insistently, and slipped his tongue
into McCoy's mouth. McCoy's eyes were wide open, shining.

Kirk's hands roamed across the doctor's chest. He felt McCoy's erect
nipples and slid his fingers downward to slide over the man's taut
abdomen. His hands travelled further south and came to rest between
the doctor's legs. McCoy's penis swelled under Kirk's touch. The
doctor moaned.

Kirk was panting by now. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of
the doctor's pants and pulled down, exposing the hard organ
underneath. He looked with fascination at McCoy's erect member, then
he bent down and ever so gently, kissed its tip.

The doctor moaned again, wordlessly. Kirk pulled his own pants off,
releasing his painfully large erection. "Bones ... " he whispered, but
could think of no other words to say. He suddenly sat up, catching
himself as a wave of dizziness passed over him, and opened a drawer in
his nightstand. He pulled out a small jar of hand lotion and very
deliberately spread the cream over his own penis until it was
slippery and white. He lay down again and nibbled on McCoy's ear.

The doctor's breath was coming in short gasps. Kirk ran his tongue
around McCoy's earlobe and then slid it down to his neck, caressing
his nape with his mouth. McCoy arched his back and Kirk's hands found
their way back to his stomach, where the teasing touch made the doctor
tremble.

Kirk was trembling himself. He put his hands on McCoy's shoulders and
rolled the man onto his side, then formed his own body to fit around
the contours of McCoy's back. He looked down, saw the doctor's smooth
buttocks and stroked them with hot hands. "Jim ..." McCoy rasped.

"What?" he breathed, quivering with anticipation -- but he would wait.
If McCoy really didn't want this ... It would be hard, but he could
restrain himself, he thought.

But McCoy did not reply in words, he only let out a long, shuddering
groan as Kirk unconsciously stroked his behind again. Kirk could only
assume that all was well.

Moving very close to McCoy -- his chest pressed to the doctor's back
-- he pushed his penis into McCoy's anus and moaned with pleasure
when the doctor tightened his buttocks. He pushed in as far as he
could go -- they were almost as one person, he thought, inhaling
deeply of McCoy's smells. He pulled out a little and pushed back in,
taking delight in his friend's moans.

Kirk reached an arm around his friend's body and took McCoy's erection
in his hand, squeezing gently. McCoy cried out and he squeezed
harder, still moving in and out in a slow-moving rhythm. The doctor's
member was hot and pulsing under his fingers; he slid his hand up and
down its length, feeling his friend's body tense and relax with the
rhythm of his caresses.

He breathed hard and stroked hard, going as deeply into McCoy's body
as he could. When McCoy came, he let out a moan that seemed ripped
from his soul and sprayed his semen into Kirk's hand, the stiffening
of McCoy's body led Kirk to reach his climax, deep within McCoy.
Riding a wave of the greatest sexual pleasure he had ever known, he
screamed with joy in the quiet room. Then, spent, he sagged onto the
bed, trying to catch his breath.


Several minutes passed before Kirk was truly aware again. But when he
looked over at the still, half-naked form of McCoy, he was shocked to
see that the doctor was crying.

"Bones?" he whispered, suddenly horribly afraid that he had done
wrong. "Bones, talk to me."

McCoy curled into a fetal position and hid his head. "I never meant to
do that," he said, gasping for breath as sobs began to come harder.

"Bones, I -- I'm so sorry," Kirk said, every bit of energy suddenly
drained. "I thought ..."

"No!" McCoy almost shouted. "It isn't your fault. I ... I just can't
believe it." His voice trailed off. "I never thought I ... I never
knew I wanted that." He drew a long, shuddering breath.

"But now ..."

"I don't know, Jim. I ... don't know. I guess I'd better go home now."
McCoy seemed incredibly weary.

Kirk couldn't believe it was all ending, just like that. "Stay here,"
he urged. "You're in no condition to go out walking." He held his
breath until the reply came.

The pause that ensued felt like an infinity. Finally ...

"You're right," the doctor said. "I'll stay here -- with -- with you,
Jim." The words came haltingly.

Kirk put his arms around McCoy and held him close until they both fell
asleep.

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The End