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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"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."

Gently, that third slips in and pushes into Jim with the rest. McCoy's wary of the stretch, not wanting to go so far that it tears, but he eases his fingers out just enough to give a moment of respite before it's all the way in again, settling there while he tips Jim's head towards him and kisses him, open-mouthed and open-hearted, everything on display on the expression on his face -- how much he loves him, how much he wants this, how scared he is that he gets this.

Everything.

Jim groans into the kiss, feels swallowed up, awash in so much - Bones is everywhere in the best way, his mouth, his ass, curled around his body, and Jim is surprised to see how wrecked Bones looks when he pulls back to breathe, like it's Jim that's crawled up inside of him and not the other way around.

"We're okay," he says, curling the hand not sticky with lube around Bones' neck to rest their foreheads together. "We're good, we're gonna stay good, we're - Bones." Jim's brain short circuits as those fingers crook deep, brushing a spot that lights up the backs of his eyes. Fucking prostate, Jim wants to wage wars for it, write sings and poems to it, wants to keep Bones' fingers right there forever, but he knows his dick will be even better. "Jesus."

There's a crooked sort of delighted smile that comes from that exclamation and McCoy's never felt so good as he does in this moment where he's making Jim feel this good. "Yeah?" he breathlessly murmurs, slipping his fingers a third of the way out before tortuously sliding them back all the way in. "How about," he murmurs, wrapping his free hand around his own dick, "You tell me how fast and how hard and how much you want."

"Still - " Jim pants, "Still all of it, everything you can, god, give me, Bones." He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but when he opens them again Bones is smirking at him, and goddamn if it's not a good look on him. Jim loves that look, that self-satisfied gloat that ought to be obnoxious but is instead sexy as hell, and he kisses Bones' mouth at the corners, tries to drink it in.

"I really think you should fuck me now, I'm ready, I'm - " Bones pushes those three fingers into him, and Jim sees stars, could almost come, but not without all of Bones. "So ready, want you so much."

Those words, fuck, those words practically undo him, make him think he's reckless and powerful and everything. Fumbling, McCoy reaches for the condoms, wishing they'd run tests, but things have been too damn busy for the last little while. As it stands, it's slowly reaching number one on his to-do list.

"Hold on," he berates, when Jim's impatience runs reckless and all McCoy wants to do is lean down and nip at Jim's lower lip, indulge in a slow and perfect kiss where he gets to have this instead of denying it of himself because Jim can't remember.

Jim barely hears him for the roar in his ears, anticipation washing over him in waves that leave him dizzy, all the moreso when he looks down at Bones' dick. He loves Bones' dick, has spent many hours with it in his mouth or hands or sliding alongside his own, but he's never had it inside of him, and Jim reaches, helping Bones to roll down the condom with shaking hands.

"How do you want me?" he asks, voice a hell of a lot steadier than he feels. "On my back? Or hands and knees?" Leaning in, Jim presses a kiss to the base of Bones' throat, drags his nose along his neck until he can speak right in his ear. "Dealer's choice."

He doesn't know. There's so many options and he's practically going insane trying to figure out which he wants to try first. "Shit," he gasps, that kiss frying all of his brain circuitry to the point that he doesn't know what the hell they're doing anymore. "Back. Back, I want to fucking see your face for this, darling."

"Yeah," Jim agrees breathlessly, "I want to see you, too." He flops down on his back, but Jim can't stand to be away for Bones long enough to even lift his legs, pulling Bones down on top of him to lick his way into his mouth.

"Been a while since I've had my ankles up by my ears," he says when he can bear to pull back, smile huge and nervous, but Jim's never trusted anyone more. "Good thing our sex life keeps me limber, huh?"

McCoy laughs, the feeling awkward and trapped in his chest as the tips of his ears flush red at the compliment that he just didn't expect to get. "I do what I can," he says, even if he thinks they've been pretty cut and dry with their sex so far. He shivers, goosebumps on his arms, and he knows that he wants more out of Jim, but he doesn't want to push.

Still, there's a little pushing to be done. He shoves him down onto the bed, parting his thighs forcibly and leaning down to press slow kisses up the inside of Jim's thigh, nipping enough to leave a small mark.

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