![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Breakfast - A Man Has Got To Eat
Jan. 10th, 2010 10:01 amChapel was crying but she was also pressing her hips up against where his hands had her spread on his desk.
So, McCoy figured, all in all, close enough to call it consent.
He'd been able to smell her as soon as she walked into Sickbay for her shift. Her short skirt had shifted, rustle of fabric against thigh, and he'd started making plans. There was actual work to accomplish, of course - Kirk's treatment was a delicate fucking matter, after all.
But it still went on the schedule; McCoy never could fucking resist Chapel when she was on the rag.
She tried another one of those fucking hip movements, all taut muscle and quivering belly, but McCoy wasn't having it. He looked up from between her thighs.
"Woman, you are disrupting my goddamn buffet."
Chapel choked out an apology. But, McCoy reflected as he licked up between the folds of her labia, the bitch didn't sound all that fucking sincere. In fact, he thought as he reveled in the iron-rich taste mixed with her own musk and arousal, she goddamn well didn't sound sincere at all.
Her clit was a hard little blood-ripe nub and he flicked it meditatively with the point of his tongue. For serious fucking business, if she wanted to be all fucking goddamn bossy, she should have gone to cuntass medical school. There was something in her record about an ex - man had been threatened or some shit-smelling garbage by her fucking capabilities and kept her in her shitting place as a nurse.
Some days, McCoy figured he owed Roger Korby a goddamn fruit basket or something in thanks. It was almost a shame that Korby was a snatch-faced cock-monkey of an asshole.
McCoy shifted his grip, fingers leaving bruises that would decorate the tops of Chapel's thighs like garters, and suckled more firmly on her clit. Chapel liked a bit of straight-fucking-forward eating out - she keened in between her sobs. He moved one bloody hand up to tweak at her nipples through her top, leaving smears that would stain if she didn't get this uniform to the laundry in time. Of course, they had four hours left on-shift - plenty of fucking time for the goddamn stains to set. McCoy liked that thought, liked it enough to bring his hand back down and slide a finger deep into her wet little pussy. Damn, Chapel was always snug as a fucking bug. He ought to pay more damn attention to that business. A second finger joined the first and then curled to find the spongy tissue that he knew would send her hips back into that fucking quest for escape.
Chapel never could just fucking lay back and goddamn take it. Made him fucking damn fond of her, it really did.
Her orgasm caught them both off-guard, Chapel's snot-smeared face crumpling up in pleasure - she was always hypersensitive this time of the month. McCoy stood up from his desk chair and wiped his face with the flap of her skirt.
His hands moved to his belt. Time for some fucking tit-for-tat - or just some tit. McCoy goddamn liked tits.
So, McCoy figured, all in all, close enough to call it consent.
He'd been able to smell her as soon as she walked into Sickbay for her shift. Her short skirt had shifted, rustle of fabric against thigh, and he'd started making plans. There was actual work to accomplish, of course - Kirk's treatment was a delicate fucking matter, after all.
But it still went on the schedule; McCoy never could fucking resist Chapel when she was on the rag.
She tried another one of those fucking hip movements, all taut muscle and quivering belly, but McCoy wasn't having it. He looked up from between her thighs.
"Woman, you are disrupting my goddamn buffet."
Chapel choked out an apology. But, McCoy reflected as he licked up between the folds of her labia, the bitch didn't sound all that fucking sincere. In fact, he thought as he reveled in the iron-rich taste mixed with her own musk and arousal, she goddamn well didn't sound sincere at all.
Her clit was a hard little blood-ripe nub and he flicked it meditatively with the point of his tongue. For serious fucking business, if she wanted to be all fucking goddamn bossy, she should have gone to cuntass medical school. There was something in her record about an ex - man had been threatened or some shit-smelling garbage by her fucking capabilities and kept her in her shitting place as a nurse.
Some days, McCoy figured he owed Roger Korby a goddamn fruit basket or something in thanks. It was almost a shame that Korby was a snatch-faced cock-monkey of an asshole.
McCoy shifted his grip, fingers leaving bruises that would decorate the tops of Chapel's thighs like garters, and suckled more firmly on her clit. Chapel liked a bit of straight-fucking-forward eating out - she keened in between her sobs. He moved one bloody hand up to tweak at her nipples through her top, leaving smears that would stain if she didn't get this uniform to the laundry in time. Of course, they had four hours left on-shift - plenty of fucking time for the goddamn stains to set. McCoy liked that thought, liked it enough to bring his hand back down and slide a finger deep into her wet little pussy. Damn, Chapel was always snug as a fucking bug. He ought to pay more damn attention to that business. A second finger joined the first and then curled to find the spongy tissue that he knew would send her hips back into that fucking quest for escape.
Chapel never could just fucking lay back and goddamn take it. Made him fucking damn fond of her, it really did.
Her orgasm caught them both off-guard, Chapel's snot-smeared face crumpling up in pleasure - she was always hypersensitive this time of the month. McCoy stood up from his desk chair and wiped his face with the flap of her skirt.
His hands moved to his belt. Time for some fucking tit-for-tat - or just some tit. McCoy goddamn liked tits.
