If someone told him that he'd be feeling like a teenager all over again, swept up in the desperate need to do nothing more than touch and grope and kiss and maul Jim in any way whatsoever, he wouldn't believe them. That, or he'd think that he'd been dosed with something. Still, this is what's happening as McCoy pushes and prods, getting Jim to the nearest tree so he can shove him up against that rough bark, manhandling Jim's shirt until he can get his hands under, splayed at his back to keep Jim close at hand while they kiss and kiss and kiss some more.

"Y'know, I ran for Council once," he says breathlessly, easing back to get a breath in. "Professional rep. I lost because I wasn't pretty enough."