![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sharpestscalpelTitle: Not a Feather to Tickle the Intellect (sequel to Tickle My Fancy)
Author:sharpestscalpel
Character/Pairing(s): McCoy/Chapel
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,837
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there's no telling what I'd actually be doing with them.
Notes: I meant for this to be nothing but a porny sequel. And yet the porn refused to be written. Instead it got all plotty and relationshipy. I like the idea of McCoy with social issues, I can't help myself.
She felt his big body strain underneath her when she brushed over the skin he had bared for her. He bucked and twisted in response but he didn’t try to escape. A fingertip tracing the edge of his navel inspired his hands to finally land on her hips, fingers gripping tight while he shifted, pressed himself up against her before he seemed to force himself to relax. Chapel placed the flat of her palms against McCoy’s - no, Leonard’s, she should call him Leonard now, - Leonard’s chest, up under his shirt, to let him catch his breath.
The rumble of his voice caught her a little off-guard; Chapel opened her eyes to find him watching her. “I know it’s kind of weird. Never could help it though.” The gruffness sounded defensive to Chapel’s ear - she’d been listening to his various growls for long enough now to recognize it. “Involuntary, like I said.”
Chapel leaned down again, this time to kiss the side of his mouth. “It’s not weird, Leonard. It’s just a thing.” She’d been engaged to a man with a thing for robots - though it had been more serious than she realized. “It’s not like you’re going to kick me out of bed for a tickling android or something. Is it?”
McCoy had bit his lower lip when she’d first confessed to him about Roger and their breakup - he’d had plenty of opinions but had restrained them in favor of asking how she felt about all of it after the fact, making sure she was okay. He bit his lower lip again now and shook his head. “Any man that’d pick metal and circuits over you, Christine, is a damn fool.” His hands crept around, slow enough that she had plenty of opportunity to protest, to cup the curve of her ass. “Seriously, though, I’d, well, I’d have thought that anyway. You know, without the, uh, tickling.”
He was still embarrassed, she thought. Someone, somewhere, had probably made fun of him for it. “You’re no fool. And I appreciate it.” She did, surprisingly enough. Chapel had considered herself over Roger’s betrayal, had thought the wound completely healed, but now a sudden dampness prickled at her eyes and she swiped at them with the back of one hand.
“Hey, now, I’m sorry.” McCoy sat up, as best he could with her weight on his chest, moved his hands from her ass to her back in a hug that was more comforting than amorous. “I warn you, too, I’m no good with crying.” A lie if Chapel had ever heard one - he was rubbing light circles and cuddling her close and generally making her feel protected with hardly a shift in his position.
She let him hold her until she’d lost count of her heartbeats, until the constant and regular rhythm of it had almost returned to normal and the hardness at his groin had abated. He smelled good, warm and slightly musky under the detergent scent of his clean clothes - a man at the end of a long day.
“I’m not very good at crying, so I think we’re even.” She laughed, hiccuped, laughed again. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” She smoothed hands over the breadth of his shoulders, more to reassure herself that he wasn’t kicking her out than anything else though that hardly seemed his style - and he shifted into her touch.
The blush was almost immediate, deepened until his ears were bright red and Chapel wanted to kiss him just for that reaction alone. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Unless you meant this just for the one night, I reckon the mood ain’t dead yet. Resuscitation. All that.”
His shy chuckle somehow made her aware of the ache between her thighs. She was a nurse; if she couldn’t bring one lost erection back to life.... “I don’t mean it just for one night.” She’d hardly risk their friendship for a one night stand. This time her kiss wasn’t chaste. She began it by licking the spot he had bitten earlier, the plump fullness of his lower lip. Chapel felt him jolt beneath her, surprise giving way to eager involvement when he parted his lips and moved to taste her as well.
She felt no need to keep track of how long the kiss continued, wet and hot and slightly messy. And she had no idea at what point she had started rocking against the swell of his renewed erection, the fabric between them muting the sensation and heightening the anticipation. She was encouraged by the restrained huff of his breathing; the sound of a man keeping himself tightly reined, Chapel thought. But that wouldn’t do. Not at all. She had no intention of doing all the work herself.
The hands that had kept so still on her back slid away when Chapel pushed against his chest and leaned away from him. It was a simple enough matter to tug her shirt, a soft t-shirt she’d worn because she found it always drew his eyes to her breasts, over her head and drop it on the floor beside them. “You’re allowed to touch.”
Just to demonstrate, she cupped her palms to test the weight of her breasts, to feel the slightly scratchy texture of her lace bra. The long look he gave her in response, the heat and flash of insecurity in his eyes, told her things about him that she would not have guessed. The hesitant and hungry movement of his fingers trailing over her skin on their path to the fastening of her bra told her even more. Chapel felt a flare of hot anger at whoever had taught him so much doubt. Then her anger was replaced by a tight eagerness in her chest - he nudged her bra straps off her shoulders and mimicked her earlier motion, the calloused warmth of his hands against the softness of her unprotected skin.
McCoy caught her nipples between his fingers. The slight pressure made her gasp. It must have sounded encouraging; he did it again, squeezed more firmly until Chapel squirmed in his lap and let him hear her broken stuttering sounds of pleasure.
“So sensitive.” It was almost a whisper. Chapel tossed her head back in agreement, pushed forward against his hands. “You like that, baby? You want more? I can do that for you.” His fingers squeezed again, then McCoy shifted his hands to run the pads of his thumbs over the tip of each nipple. The rasp of the deep breath he took was loud between them, then he was sitting up even more in order to bend his head, to lave first one breast than the other with his tongue. He settled at her left, plush lips latched around flesh, while his hands wandered from her collarbones to the waistband of her skirt.
Chapel wasn’t idle. She rubbed at his scalp, tugged at the short strands of his dark hair. She prodded and nudged and shifted until he was leaning against the back of the sofa, once more sitting upright. She straddled his lap, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. Then she reached again for the hem of his shirt and urged it higher. “Tit for tat here, come on, off with it.”
He released her breast a final swipe of his tongue. “I do like the tit on offer.”
It startled a laugh out of her; that was enough to set him off, the same helpless giggles that caught him up when she managed to catch him completely unawares. And it was contagious. She snicked against the skin of his neck while she bunched his shirt up, tugged at it until he cooperated, let her take it off of him.
But she sobered - his mouth was softly pleased and his hair was rumpled, a strangely vulnerable and intimate look for such a gruff man who took so much refuge in sharpness. It wasn’t only their working relationship - or even their friendship - that she was risking. And she’d assumed so much, based on his reactions to her experimentation. “Do you want to do this with me, Leonard?” He was more eager to please than she’d anticipated but she wanted to please him, too. “And I mean do you want this at all, but also do you want this right now?”
McCoy rocked up against her and Chapel rolled her eyes. That wasn’t what she meant and he had to know it. But he didn’t seem able to quite manage his usual scowl. “I’m not a skittish virgin, Christine, for fuck’s sake. What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing, god, Leonard. But I like you and I’m pushy and I don’t...” She trailed off, more uncertain that she’d been when she first offered to play with him. “This isn’t just for me.”
The mobile, expressive eyebrows that made it so easy to read McCoy’s emotional state were, for this moment at least, a mystery to Chapel. His hands on her hips hiked her back up against him and McCoy hid his face against her chest. “I”m a selfish man, Christine. But I’m not real complicated. You being here’s more than enough for me.”
Chapel might have protested, prodded him further - there was more to this, and it was probably in their best interest to work it all out - but he nipped at the tender juncture of her neck and shoulder and it was the most demanding thing he’d done yet. She bent her head to give him more room, groaned when he worried the skin between his teeth. There’d be a bruise and she liked the thought of it.
The thought of having more room to maneuver was also appealing. Quick and rough sex on the couch would always make for a fun night but as much as she had started out with that in mind, it was something different now. Chapel was adaptable. She tugged at his hair, just enough that he tipped his head back to look at her, his mouth damp and his lips parted.
“Can we move this to your bed?”
She wasn’t expecting him to pick her up but that was just what he did. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist.
“Darlin’, we can move this wherever you’d like.” His words were rough but his hands were still gentle, still careful as he carried her around the partition that separated his sleeping area from the rest of the room. He let her down next to the bed, rather than on it, and she felt absurdly grateful for the chance to stand on her own two feet.
There were issues there, waiting behind his careful nature. They’d work them out. But for now, Chapel sat on the side of Leonard’s bed and, after a tickling caress of the skin at his sides, set to work on the fastening of his pants.
Author:
sharpestscalpelCharacter/Pairing(s): McCoy/Chapel
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,837
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there's no telling what I'd actually be doing with them.
Notes: I meant for this to be nothing but a porny sequel. And yet the porn refused to be written. Instead it got all plotty and relationshipy. I like the idea of McCoy with social issues, I can't help myself.
She felt his big body strain underneath her when she brushed over the skin he had bared for her. He bucked and twisted in response but he didn’t try to escape. A fingertip tracing the edge of his navel inspired his hands to finally land on her hips, fingers gripping tight while he shifted, pressed himself up against her before he seemed to force himself to relax. Chapel placed the flat of her palms against McCoy’s - no, Leonard’s, she should call him Leonard now, - Leonard’s chest, up under his shirt, to let him catch his breath.
The rumble of his voice caught her a little off-guard; Chapel opened her eyes to find him watching her. “I know it’s kind of weird. Never could help it though.” The gruffness sounded defensive to Chapel’s ear - she’d been listening to his various growls for long enough now to recognize it. “Involuntary, like I said.”
Chapel leaned down again, this time to kiss the side of his mouth. “It’s not weird, Leonard. It’s just a thing.” She’d been engaged to a man with a thing for robots - though it had been more serious than she realized. “It’s not like you’re going to kick me out of bed for a tickling android or something. Is it?”
McCoy had bit his lower lip when she’d first confessed to him about Roger and their breakup - he’d had plenty of opinions but had restrained them in favor of asking how she felt about all of it after the fact, making sure she was okay. He bit his lower lip again now and shook his head. “Any man that’d pick metal and circuits over you, Christine, is a damn fool.” His hands crept around, slow enough that she had plenty of opportunity to protest, to cup the curve of her ass. “Seriously, though, I’d, well, I’d have thought that anyway. You know, without the, uh, tickling.”
He was still embarrassed, she thought. Someone, somewhere, had probably made fun of him for it. “You’re no fool. And I appreciate it.” She did, surprisingly enough. Chapel had considered herself over Roger’s betrayal, had thought the wound completely healed, but now a sudden dampness prickled at her eyes and she swiped at them with the back of one hand.
“Hey, now, I’m sorry.” McCoy sat up, as best he could with her weight on his chest, moved his hands from her ass to her back in a hug that was more comforting than amorous. “I warn you, too, I’m no good with crying.” A lie if Chapel had ever heard one - he was rubbing light circles and cuddling her close and generally making her feel protected with hardly a shift in his position.
She let him hold her until she’d lost count of her heartbeats, until the constant and regular rhythm of it had almost returned to normal and the hardness at his groin had abated. He smelled good, warm and slightly musky under the detergent scent of his clean clothes - a man at the end of a long day.
“I’m not very good at crying, so I think we’re even.” She laughed, hiccuped, laughed again. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” She smoothed hands over the breadth of his shoulders, more to reassure herself that he wasn’t kicking her out than anything else though that hardly seemed his style - and he shifted into her touch.
The blush was almost immediate, deepened until his ears were bright red and Chapel wanted to kiss him just for that reaction alone. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Unless you meant this just for the one night, I reckon the mood ain’t dead yet. Resuscitation. All that.”
His shy chuckle somehow made her aware of the ache between her thighs. She was a nurse; if she couldn’t bring one lost erection back to life.... “I don’t mean it just for one night.” She’d hardly risk their friendship for a one night stand. This time her kiss wasn’t chaste. She began it by licking the spot he had bitten earlier, the plump fullness of his lower lip. Chapel felt him jolt beneath her, surprise giving way to eager involvement when he parted his lips and moved to taste her as well.
She felt no need to keep track of how long the kiss continued, wet and hot and slightly messy. And she had no idea at what point she had started rocking against the swell of his renewed erection, the fabric between them muting the sensation and heightening the anticipation. She was encouraged by the restrained huff of his breathing; the sound of a man keeping himself tightly reined, Chapel thought. But that wouldn’t do. Not at all. She had no intention of doing all the work herself.
The hands that had kept so still on her back slid away when Chapel pushed against his chest and leaned away from him. It was a simple enough matter to tug her shirt, a soft t-shirt she’d worn because she found it always drew his eyes to her breasts, over her head and drop it on the floor beside them. “You’re allowed to touch.”
Just to demonstrate, she cupped her palms to test the weight of her breasts, to feel the slightly scratchy texture of her lace bra. The long look he gave her in response, the heat and flash of insecurity in his eyes, told her things about him that she would not have guessed. The hesitant and hungry movement of his fingers trailing over her skin on their path to the fastening of her bra told her even more. Chapel felt a flare of hot anger at whoever had taught him so much doubt. Then her anger was replaced by a tight eagerness in her chest - he nudged her bra straps off her shoulders and mimicked her earlier motion, the calloused warmth of his hands against the softness of her unprotected skin.
McCoy caught her nipples between his fingers. The slight pressure made her gasp. It must have sounded encouraging; he did it again, squeezed more firmly until Chapel squirmed in his lap and let him hear her broken stuttering sounds of pleasure.
“So sensitive.” It was almost a whisper. Chapel tossed her head back in agreement, pushed forward against his hands. “You like that, baby? You want more? I can do that for you.” His fingers squeezed again, then McCoy shifted his hands to run the pads of his thumbs over the tip of each nipple. The rasp of the deep breath he took was loud between them, then he was sitting up even more in order to bend his head, to lave first one breast than the other with his tongue. He settled at her left, plush lips latched around flesh, while his hands wandered from her collarbones to the waistband of her skirt.
Chapel wasn’t idle. She rubbed at his scalp, tugged at the short strands of his dark hair. She prodded and nudged and shifted until he was leaning against the back of the sofa, once more sitting upright. She straddled his lap, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. Then she reached again for the hem of his shirt and urged it higher. “Tit for tat here, come on, off with it.”
He released her breast a final swipe of his tongue. “I do like the tit on offer.”
It startled a laugh out of her; that was enough to set him off, the same helpless giggles that caught him up when she managed to catch him completely unawares. And it was contagious. She snicked against the skin of his neck while she bunched his shirt up, tugged at it until he cooperated, let her take it off of him.
But she sobered - his mouth was softly pleased and his hair was rumpled, a strangely vulnerable and intimate look for such a gruff man who took so much refuge in sharpness. It wasn’t only their working relationship - or even their friendship - that she was risking. And she’d assumed so much, based on his reactions to her experimentation. “Do you want to do this with me, Leonard?” He was more eager to please than she’d anticipated but she wanted to please him, too. “And I mean do you want this at all, but also do you want this right now?”
McCoy rocked up against her and Chapel rolled her eyes. That wasn’t what she meant and he had to know it. But he didn’t seem able to quite manage his usual scowl. “I’m not a skittish virgin, Christine, for fuck’s sake. What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing, god, Leonard. But I like you and I’m pushy and I don’t...” She trailed off, more uncertain that she’d been when she first offered to play with him. “This isn’t just for me.”
The mobile, expressive eyebrows that made it so easy to read McCoy’s emotional state were, for this moment at least, a mystery to Chapel. His hands on her hips hiked her back up against him and McCoy hid his face against her chest. “I”m a selfish man, Christine. But I’m not real complicated. You being here’s more than enough for me.”
Chapel might have protested, prodded him further - there was more to this, and it was probably in their best interest to work it all out - but he nipped at the tender juncture of her neck and shoulder and it was the most demanding thing he’d done yet. She bent her head to give him more room, groaned when he worried the skin between his teeth. There’d be a bruise and she liked the thought of it.
The thought of having more room to maneuver was also appealing. Quick and rough sex on the couch would always make for a fun night but as much as she had started out with that in mind, it was something different now. Chapel was adaptable. She tugged at his hair, just enough that he tipped his head back to look at her, his mouth damp and his lips parted.
“Can we move this to your bed?”
She wasn’t expecting him to pick her up but that was just what he did. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist.
“Darlin’, we can move this wherever you’d like.” His words were rough but his hands were still gentle, still careful as he carried her around the partition that separated his sleeping area from the rest of the room. He let her down next to the bed, rather than on it, and she felt absurdly grateful for the chance to stand on her own two feet.
There were issues there, waiting behind his careful nature. They’d work them out. But for now, Chapel sat on the side of Leonard’s bed and, after a tickling caress of the skin at his sides, set to work on the fastening of his pants.
