leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

He's not sure when the hell it happened, but somewhere along the way, McCoy got so involved in his projects and Auggie and the Council and the goddamn tribbles that he stopped caring about other things. The first thing to go was the time with Jim, which he hates. The second thing is some of his shifts, which he hates.

And the third thing? The third thing is his hair. He's let it grow and grow and whereas it used to curl around his ears and that didn't matter so much, now that it's managed to grow to his shoulders and makes him look like a goddamn hippie, he cares. He has to tie it up in a ponytail just to keep it out of his face and he feels like he's sixteen and rebelling again. He doesn't have time to cope with it, so he knots it up haphazardly as he gets ready for the day while scraping his palm over his cheek's stubble, groaning when he realizes he's one long leap away from a goddamn trip to the desert for Burning Man.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jim lives for the moments when Bones' stubborn indignation gives way, snarls and curses turned to fevered, openmouthed kisses that leave Jim as breathless as he seeks to make Bones.

Jim curls his arm around his waist in turn, hand sneaking down to seize a generous handful of his ass. "You are so hot, you know that?" Jim gasps, peeling away to bite down Bones' sore jaw. "The things you let me do, you ready for me to make you scream?"

His knees are starting to ache, but every touch and kiss distracts him from that pain. "What the hell am I screaming for?" he demands, voice throaty from sucking on Jim's dick. "Thought maybe I'd get a turn at that ass of yours." he says, sinking into Jim's lips, drifting into his touch.

"You can have my ass any time you want it," Jim laughs, head ducked to mouth at his collarbone, "But I seem to remember you not wanting to get all that pretty hair in your eyes." He pulls his hands around to pop the snap in Bones' ridiculous cutoff shorts, easing fingers past the hem until he can reach his dick.

Okay, he's vaguely recalling saying that -- not that he's entirely thinking with his brain right now, a problem that's only compounded by Jim easing his fingers into his pants. "Shit," he growls. "You're gonna make me come with nothing more than a touch. I'm real close, darling."

"Do not," says Jim, squeezing the base of his cock, precise and staying, "After a show like that, you're coming on my dick. C'mon." He kisses Bones' flushed cheeks. "Let's take this to the bed, huh?"

He lets out a frantic and frustrated sound because god, he wants nothing more than to actually find some kind of relief here, but Jim is killing him, might actually kill him with sex one of these days and maybe that should go in the vows. "Might have some trouble walking, James," he drawls, accent thick.

Jim hums and pulls back, something wicked in his grin. Then he grabs Bones' wrist and tugs, catching Bones' belly against him as he stands, and strides to the bedroom with satisfaction, Bones dangling from his shoulder. "Cross another personal fantasy off the list," he says as he slings Bones onto the sheets.

Truth is, he's somewhat grateful for Jim's little trick seeing as he's not entirely sure his legs would've remained stable for the whole of the walk. He sprawls out on the bed, unable to keep his hand away from his dick, giving himself a few rough strokes to ease the ache. "How long have you wanted to do that one?"

"Couple of years," says Jim, climbing onto the sheets to smack Bones' hand away. "On my dick," he reminds him and straddles Bones' lap, pulling him in by two handfuls of hair for another kiss.

"God damn it, Jim," he snaps, barking the words before he's got nothing to focus on but the overwhelming feel and how goddamn perfect it all is, but the hair really has got to go after today. He relents and gives small whines of pleasure as Jim kisses him, absolutely beyond happy to do exactly what Jim wants right now.

He tears himself away from the kiss when he needs a good breath, nostrils flaring. "Won't be long, now."

"Oh, it won't, huh?" Jim asks, leaning over him to grab the lube from the nightstand. He slicks two fingers and only gives Bones the barest tease before he pushes both inside of him, just rough enough to take the edge off, kisses turned soothing against Bones' mouth.

He hisses sharply as soon as Jim starts playing dirty and starts to fuck him with his fingers. He throws his head back, even though he still wants to claim as many kisses as he can, letting out a fervently heated groan, hips bucking upwards to try and coax Jim's fingers deeper. "C'mon," he growls. "More."

"Oh, it's like that this morning?" Jim hums, head tucked against Bones' throat to suck when he adds a third finger, scissoring them all to stretch Bones as quickly as he can. "Tell me when, babe," he says, reaching deep to find his prostate.

Babbling like an idiot wouldn't do anything for him that Jim's not already doing, but hell, he can't exactly help a sound or two when Jim's got his fingers in him, not wanting it to be the when, not just yet. He squirms and tries to ease Jim deep, deeper, deep as he can go, moaning his name out. "Yeah!" he finally gives in. "Enough!"

Jim grins and doesn't stop, fucks his fingers into him a few more times just to hear him groan. "So hot like this, Bones," he murmurs, stroking ruthlessly against that sweet spot even as he lifts Bones leg over his hip to spread him wide. "Tell me you want it."

"You know what the fuck I want," McCoy snaps, barely able to string the words together to be coherent, but Jim's spreading him wide and fucking him with his fingers and his hair is falling in his eyes. It's not a pretty sight, but it's a wanton one, for sure. "I want you," he growls. "Jim, god damn it, I want you so bad."

"Gonna give it to you," Jim promises, taking himself in hand to press inside Bones at last, sinking into all that tight, slicked up heat with a groan of his own. He gives Bones only the barest moment to get used to the stretch before he's pulling back again, not wasting any time in setting a slow, deep rhythm that lets him lean down, reclaim Bones' mouth to swallow all those pretty sounds.

He breathes out shakily when Jim pushes into him. It'd been a hell of a long time before they got together that he'd done this, but sliding back into old habits is fairly easy -- and it feels so damn good. He tips his chin up, meeting Jim halfway for a long kiss and threading his fingers through Jim's hair, rubbing slow circles around the sparse grey hairs that he's too chickenshit to say anything about, since he doesn't want Jim to dye them away. "Faster," he mumbles into the kiss, reaching down to shakily wrap his hand around himself.

"Yeah," Jim breathes, obliging him with a faster snap of hips, "And no." He reaches down, dragging Bones' hand away from himself to pin against the mattress. "No touching, Bones. You're coming on my cock this time. Just my cock."

He growls with frustration. He already can barely think and Jim's not exactly helping. Still, two can play dirty and a glint in McCoy's eye is all the warning Jim gets. "Yeah? You want that, Captain?" he drawls, licking his lips as he thrusts his hips up in an effort to force Jim deeper. "You want me to come all over your cock? I can suck it off too, after, if you're good, darlin'."

Jim squeezes his eyes closed against the image that paints, but he can still hear that lazy drawl, breathless but still entirely too even. "Next time," he says, "I'll let you paint me eight ways from Sunday, but this time..."

Rearing up on his knees, Jim drags Bones' body with him, ass nearly lifted off the bed so Jim can sink deeply into him, make it rough enough that all that ridiculous, sexy hair tosses about, "This time you're coming untouched. I think you can do it."

Indignation and disbelief flickers over McCoy's face and he stares at Jim, disgruntled and unable to even think about being able to do that. He doesn't get a chance to protest, though, when Jim decides to ramp up fucking him to a new position. He uses all the strength in his core to rise up, possessively wrapping an arm around Jim's neck to haul him down for a biting, angry, desperate kiss.

Jim pulls back, licks Bones' taste from bruised, red lips, and grins down at him. "You can," he says, and for a man as invested in making Bones feel good as Jim is, it's no trouble at all to find that perfect angle, drag his cock over Bones' sweet spot again and again. "I know you can."

Every thrust, every drag, it brings him closer to the edge. He digs his blunt nails into Jim's forearm, trying to reconcile what he's feeling with anything he's ever felt before, but it's new and fuck, but it's good. He gives a constrained whimper and lets his head fall back, spreading his legs a little wider. "One more time," he pleads hoarsely. "One more," he slurs.

"That's my Bones," Jim pants, and it's not easy to keep this pace, thighs burning and sweat slicking down to sting at his eyes, but Bones looks so good when he's desperate, sounds so damn sweet that it could curl Jim's toes, and he complies, thrusts into him hard and deep how he knows Bones needs it. "C'mon, babe."