Jim's quicksilver mind readily provides a steady stream of images as Bones murmurs in his ear, paints pictures so vivid he can practically feel the phantom hand slip into his jeans, words spreading like a touch over his skin and each one filthier than the last.

"Jesus," says Jim, eyes clouded when Bones draws back, smiles at him like he hasn't just come close to making Jim come in his pants in front of god and everyone. "You're gonna kill me," he pants, "I thought I'd be the one to - but no, it's you, that - that mouth should come with a warning label, Bones."