leftwithmybones | saturday the 14th

saturday the 14th

He's not sure what it is that convinces him, but midway through the month, McCoy wakes up with Jim at his side breathing heavily and he thinks to himself: What the hell am I doing running around like a stressed idiot? It's the thought in mind as he takes hold of a towel, a bag with food, sunscreen, and other paraphernalia, and heads down to the little stretch of beach that's only a ten minute walk from their home. Sometimes, he forgets how nice it is to enjoy the small things. It's what he's doing now, lying on his back with sunglasses blocking out the UV rays.

So maybe Jim still doesn't remember and maybe he's got a full battery of patients and amnesia cases in his friends to worry about. All that will still be there in an hour. Right now? Right now, he just wants to relax.

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"Can you blame him?" Jim asks with a chuckle, "You were all bent over in your boxers, plumbing all hot and grunty like something out of a porno, and you fixed the sink, which is a total turn-on."

Pushing back into Bones' touch, Jim feels a little spark shoot down his spine, heat pooling in his groin for that quick, firm grab. "And then you were a total gentleman, which is also a turn-on."

"The goddamn thing was backed up, which is probably your cat's damn fault," McCoy says, wanting to put blame where blame is due and that damn cat deserves so very much of that blame. "I was not grunting," he grumbles, but when Jim accuses him of being a gentleman, it's like his senses are now warring with 'be good to him' or 'show him how much you've been missing him'. "Okay," he says. "Okay. You've got twenty seconds."

For what, he doesn't say.

"For picturing you in a plumber's uniform?" Jim guesses, a shallow line between his brows that soon disappears as he grins. "For reminding you Plum was sleeping in your bed before I ever was?" Still grinning, he palms Bones over his swimtrunks, now beginning to tent nicely with an erection. "Or for having my way with you, because I bet I can do all three at once."

"Twenty seconds," McCoy murmurs, his breath starting to hitch because he doesn't have it in him to pay attention while Jim's doing that to his body, "to get off me and get back to the hut where all our nice condoms and all our good lube lives." He catches Jim's eye, desperation and hope and fondness settled there. "And Plum was not sleeping with me. It was Spock before it was you."

"I know you mean that platonically," says Jim, for a moment unwilling to release Bones' growing length in his hand, "So I'm not going to try tying you up with a beach towel and making you forget you ever shared your house and or cat with anyone else. Although that might be fun sometime."

Pulling back with an even more wicked grin than before, Jim offers Bones his hand to haul him up. As Bones says, there are nice condoms and good lube at home, and Jim would very much like to make up for lost time by going through half their stores.

He staggers to his feet, slightly off-balance and humiliated given the fact that he's got one hell of an erection going on and it's solely for Jim. He swallows hard, trying to remember the retort that'd been on his tongue. "You the jealous type, James T.?" he challenges, taking the longest strides he possibly can.

"Enjoy it," Jim says, grabbing Bones' hand in his to haul him along. He's not doing much better in the erection department, but Jim was born without shame, and he thinks nothing of hurrying down the path towards home in such a state.

"Jealous spats usually lead to hot sex." It's meant to be flip, but Jim can't help but agree with himself - he's jealous of Jean, anxious in a way that makes him want to squirm that in some other life, he got married and it wasn't to Bones. He wants to forget all that, erase it with what he has now, which is better than anyone he's had or will have, he knows it. "C'mon," he says, hurrying all the more.

"Hey," he murmurs and slides his fingers down the inside of Jim's forearm until he can tangle his fingers with Jim's, sliding their hands together as he steps Jim a little closer to the thick branch of a nearby palm tree. Yeah, he wants to get home as quickly as Jim does, but there's something to be said for taking a moment to appreciate what you've been missing. "Don't know if I like you jealous," he admits, voice no louder than a soft murmur as he leans in between them, half-lidded eyes focused on Jim's lips before he takes the kisses that are just waiting for him, have been since they fought and then Jim lost his goddamn mind.

He kisses him like he's given up on the idea of breathing, wants to abandon that and do nothing but grope at Jim's ass and kiss him, turn those fingers into a crook of knuckles as they slide along the hipbone, ekeing out a path towards some unseen treasure that he knows he can find if he keeps on following with a touch as light as a feather. "Missed you."

Jim sighs, means to be impatient, but it mostly comes out content. Bones' hands are calloused and sure, touching him like he's something precious, like something not even real, and the parts of Jim trying to fly away begin to settle under his hands.

"M'right here," he says, fingers wrapping lightly around Bones' wrists, not to stop him but to feel him in turn. He leans forward into a kiss, and then another, happy despite the sweet ache between his legs that insists he do more than neck. "Won't go anywhere again."

"Don't make promises, not like that," he chides, but he's more than happy to tug on that grip he's got of Jim's hands, pulling him closer so they can half-walk, half-waltz their way back into the hut, McCoy's heart beating like mad as he kicks the door open and he doesn't waste time stripping off his still-wet t-shirt from the swim.

"Kitchen? You wanna do me here? What?"

"Want to do you everywhere," Jim answers with a bright laugh, palms skimming the sudden expanse of Bones' chest the instant it's revealed to him. He runs his hands down Bones' sides, grips his hips and tries to decide what he wants most, but Jim wants it all - his mouth, his ass, even rubbing off against one thick thigh would feel incredible right now, but none of it seems like quite enough.

Jim needs more, could give more, more than he's given to anybody. "Maybe, uh," he says, and he's not shy, could never be, but then, he's never asked for this. "Maybe you could do me instead."

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, like it sometimes catches him off guard to look at Jim and see someone so entirely and incredibly fucking beautiful, all golden and gleaming in the right places. It doesn't hit him, not until it's out of Jim's mouth, what he's said.

"You --"

He blinks, wanting to make sure he heard it right. "We've never done that before."

"No," Jim agrees, "we haven't. I haven't, not like that, but." Catching Bones' wrists again, Jim holds them loosely in his hands, pulls them up between them until Bones' hands are on his chest in turn.

He's almost afraid to bring up the marriage again, but it's eating at him, and for all of Jim's attempts at caution, it tumbles out of his mouth all the same. "Whatever else I did when I was here before, I just want to live this life with you. It could be something that's only ever been yours, if you want. Or," he adds, trying for his old, roguish grin, "We could jerk each other off and go get a burger. Your call."

"Well, I am kind of hungry," he teases, but he's already made up his mind and he's more than sure that Jim's going to hear it in the growl of his tone, possessive and wanting and there's nothing in the world bound to stop him. He slides his fingers slowly up Jim's neck, twining them into his hair and tugging hard. "Get on the bed, get the lube out, and I want you to prep yourself for me," he orders. "Get nice and slick so when I fuck you, it's good for both of us."

Jim flushes beet red, eyes wide and startled for that sudden order, but already beginning to darken for the command in Bones' voice. He can't help but respond to it, already feels that familiar urge to push and see where he gets, how much trouble he can land himself in and how much he'll manage to enjoy even that.

"Nice and slick, huh?" Jim asks, scalp still stinging when he backs himself through the bedroom door. He shucks his boxers and crawls over the bed, pretending his hand isn't shaking when he grabs the lube. "You going to check my progress? Grade me on technique?"

McCoy follows at a somewhat sedate pace, watching Jim like he's a predator and his prey is going to make his sanity snap at some point soon. "Slow," he cautious, hooking his thumbs into his swimshorts and nudging them down as he presses a knee to the edge of the bed. "I want to watch you."

Jim watches Bones peel those trunks away with hungry eyes, but the sight of Bones' erection gives him pause, makes him wonder as he plants both knees on the bed and reaches back, skimming slick fingers over his own hole, what it will be like to have that much flesh inside him. He's nervous, afraid in that way that feels just as good as it does terrifying, the uncertainty and elation before a leap, and Jim's teeth find his lip as he pushes a finger inside himself. It burns, more than he thought it would, and Jim hisses in surprise, face sharpening with concentration. He'll do this, he's done it for countless people before, done it for Bones, he'll get it right.

Stretching himself as best he can with one, Jim adds a second finger and closes his eyes, tries to imagine it's Bones dick opening him up, and already it's twice as much as he's ever taken. "It's - " he starts, a little unsteady, "It's a lot, already it's a lot. Wow," and opens his eyes to see Bones so close. "Remind me to take more time prepping you next time."

He laughs, softly, as he eases in from behind. He tries to give Jim enough space, but when he wraps his arm around Jim's middle and eases in, there's the trouble that he's hard as fuck, but he wants to be comforting. Softly, he brushes slow kisses up and down Jim's neck. "Want me to pretend I'm giving you a prostate exam?" he rumbles, nipping softly at Jim's lobe before he eases back. "A sexy one, obviously."

Jim laughs, head tipped back to catch against Bones' shoulder, already feeling steadier for the warmth. "Just calling it that is inherently unsexy," he says, working at himself with determination, but the angle is difficult, wrists won't bend to let him deep enough unless he lies down on his back, and no way is Jim giving up Bones for that now that the other man is right here. "Bones," he says, and it's not a whine, he'll never admit it's a whine, but neither is it manly, and Jim is just not used to not being brilliant at things straight away. "Easier to fucking find it when I'm doing it to somebody else," he grumbles.

McCoy makes a face like part of him's pitying Jim, but there's little to no actual pity there, mostly amusement at the way Jim's practically begging for it. "Hey," he exhales, swiftly yanking the lube away to keep it in his palm. "How about I do this for you, huh? I'd love to treat you right, darling. You deserve it after the shit we've been going through."

"Just keep calling me darlin'," Jim sighs, and it's not a no. He wants to see Bones, wants Bones to see him, wants to be as in this together as they can possibly be, and he turns, pulling Bones down onto the sheets with him. "Do it here," he says, tugging Bones' hand towards his ass. "I want to watch you, too."

It's not going to be easy, but the truth is that he's done enough checks and exams and slept with just enough people that he can do it like this, not that he's about to give Jim a list of his prior experiences. He kisses his way down Jim's neck as he shifts their bodies, nudging his thumb to the lube so he can slick it up, transferring that to the next finger and the next until the whole hand is ready to go. "You want two fingers of mine? Three? What do you think you can manage, James T?"

"You kidding?" Jim asks, dragging his nose along Bones' cheek as he works his way down Jim's neck. "Those pretty fingers? Give me three." They are pretty, of course, in that unique way that appeals to Jim. Broad, strong, every fingertip calloused, as articulate as they are powerful - they're a doctor's hands, and three fingers might be a lot at once, but Jim knows no other way. "C'mon."

He's not so sure that he'd call them pretty. They're rough, especially for all the work he's been doing lately. In case, just in case, he adds more lube and slides his fingers down the line of Jim's spine, trailing soft and slow into the curve of his ass, rubbing slow circles around the hole before he presses the cheeks apart and eases one, then two in.

The third doesn't go in, not just yet. "Tell me you really want this," he says, and McCoy's not entirely sure he's only talking about the sex.

Jim buries a short, wide-eyed expression against Bones' throat, kisses, open-mouthed at the skin there and nods. It's different when it's Bones' fingers inside of him, and Jim wonders a little at himself, how recklessly he's prepped other people when it could have been this fucking personal.

"I do," he says, pulling back, pupils blown as he gives an experimental rock against the fingers breaching him. He feels full, too much so and not enough, there's a pleasure beyond the burn of it and Jim wants more. "I really do, Bones, all of it, give it to me."

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