leftwithmybones | (no subject)

She'd kicked Jim out of the house an hour back to get ready and to fix up dinner. Hell, if McCoy's honest about the whole thing, she'd kicked him out solely so her nerves had a chance to calm the hell down. They're up and down and she knows what she wants to ask, knows that she wants this, but it's also not the first time she's done this and the last time she'd blurted it out. Hadn't gone over too well.

She'd found a blue dress about the same length as the uniforms, a few shades darker than that and she's pinned the hair up in a functional bun while dinner's cooking -- some steak since Jim likes it, proper greens, and a pie sitting in the oven with some ice cream in the freezer. It's not exactly a feast, but it'll do.

When McCoy's sure it's ready to go, she opens the front door and pokes her head out, pretty sure she'll find Jim. "Your banishment's over," she says, nerves fluttering as she looks him over and thinks about kids, thinks about his kids and how much she wants to talk about that with him. "Dinner's ready."

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She'd have a quick reply ready, but right now she doesn't even know that she can get out words. There's sounds, though. Small, aching, pleased little moans as she settles down into a steady rhythm, rocking down and pressing one hand firm in the middle of Jim's chest, waggling her brow at him. "C'mon," she growls to urge him on.

Jim gazes with wide eyes at the ceiling, addled with the unexpected joy of having sex with a woman again, and lasts all of a moment more before he surges up, gathering Bones in his lap with both arms around her.

From this angle, he can't thrust up as much as he'd like, but he can hold her, her breasts soft where they rub against his skin, mouth right there for the taking. "Bones," Jim breathes again, kissing her as she fucks down onto him.

Sometimes, the smooth movements are traded in for those rough, klutzy, desperate things, and she thinks she loves those all the more because they're frantic and are pretty much more them. She bows her head down to indulge in every last greedy kiss that she can get, framing Jim's face with her palms and grinning like a sex-crazed idiot. "Jim," she breathes out reverently.

"I love you," says Jim, rolling suddenly until her back's against the sheets, hands urging her legs around his waist. He means to keep going then, but he's caught for a moment, breathless and looking down at her. She wants a baby, and all at once, Jim's eyes are hot. He closes them, burying his face against her throat as his hips begin to rock, fucking her slower and deeper than before.

"Hey," she breathes, meaning it to be soft, but it comes out stilted by the moans that are interspersed with Jim's movements. "Hey," she moans out the word. "Jim, babe, what's the matter?" she wonders, threading her fingers through his hair with worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lies, mouth open against her throat. Jim kisses the spot, breathing in the scent of her, and tries like hell to get it together. "Just want to give you what you want, babe." His hips haven't slowed, dick wrapped up in too much heat to soften, but he has to swallow again before he speaks. "I want to give you everything you want."

She helps him out best she can, hips rocking forward to push him deeper into her without having to change the angle very much at all. "You give me everything I could ever need, Jim," she swears. "Don't worry so much," she whispers, head tipped back to bask in those kisses he's so ready to give. "You're perfect, goddamn perfect, I love you."

"I love you, too," Jim groans, sinking deeper, and it feels too good for grieving. Jim gets a hand beneath her knee and lifts it, deciding that for these few brief moments, he'll let himself believe it's possible, their baby. It may be the one chance he ever gets.

Lifting his head, Jim kisses her deeply, hips moving with purpose now. "Wrap your legs around me."

She's grinning like an idiot when he kisses her and it doesn't take very much coaxing for McCoy to do exactly like Jim wants, snugly locking her ankles around Jim's back, hands on his shoulders as she holds on tight. "C'mon, Jim," she coaxes, half chanting. "C'mon, do what you're good at."

Jim takes her wrists and pins them on either side of her head, and glint in his eye that says he means to deliver. His hips snap faster, half grinding against her to make sure he hits both sweet spots, and hell if it hasn't been a while since Jim had to worry about that. "Can't wait to make you come," he pants, "Feel you squeeze so sweet around me, Bones. There's nothing better."

There's so many points of contact between their skin that she's lost count, but she's happy to go with it, give in and let Jim control her like a puppet as she rocks her hips back as best as she can, letting out quiet whines of pleasure. "Shit," she gasps. "Won't be long like this," she gets out, stilted.

Jim's thighs are burning, muscles all over beginning to ache with the effort, but it feels good - it's amazing how different it is to fuck a woman after so long, all the angles so close but not quite the same. He lifts his head and looks down at her, drinking in the way her lips part with every thrust in, the way her breaths hitch each time he pulls out again. She's so fucking gorgeous he can hardly stand it, and Jim needs to see her fall apart. "Come on, Bones," he urges. "Come on, baby."

"What the hell," she gasps, hand sinking into Jim's hair to give him a playful tug that's probably a shade too hard, "did I tell you about..." She tips her head back, wriggling her hips as she coaxes him deeper. "...calling me baby?"