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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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.

Jim stays where he's been put, and somehow, even after having Bones' fingers inside of him, it's startling to feel him tug his thighs apart, heat sparking from that little nip all the way up Jim's spine.

"Bones," he murmurs, face a mix of concentration and lust as he lifts his head and tries to watch, lips quirking with a tease he hardly feels, he just needs to prove he's not all the way undone, not yet. "Unless your dick's gotten longer, m'pretty sure you can't fuck me from all the way down there."

"What'd I tell you about foreplay," he grumbles and growls, but there's a great deal of fondness in his tone as he slides his way back up so he can nudge his lips to Jim's neck, kissing him gently against the curve of his jaw. "You don't want me to give you a little more attention? It's like you went away for a while. I owe you some tenderness."

Jim grins at the ceiling, and then at Bones when he lifts his head. "Hey," he says, and he should be rebelling at the idea. Mere months ago, Jim Kirk cared nothing for tenderness, but he's not the same man, and right now he wants exactly what Bones wants to give him.

"Whatever you want, okay?" he says, tangling their legs. "They're gonna take my sex card away, but even kissing you feels amazing right now. So go as slow as you wanna, hell." His grin widens. "It'll be another first for me."

McCoy rewards the words with a kiss, given that Jim's being good and willing to go a little slower, brushing slow kisses over Jim's lips, toying and teasing and softly pressing to the upper lip before he drifts back, grasping Jim's heel and sliding the foot all the way up to his shoulder, doing the same with the other and giving Jim a careful look. "Y'okay?"

Jim shifts, testing the stretch to his limbs. Suddenly bent in two, he doesn't feel quite natural, but he's happy where he is, toes wriggling near Bones' ears. He has to say, Bones looks gorgeous hovering over him, eyes huge and arms rounded with the effort of holding himself up.

"Feel like a baby on a changing table," he says, leaning up to kiss him, "but I bet you're about to distract me, huh?"

McCoy gives Jim a disbelieving scoff, not sure that he thinks this is super sexy when Jim's spouting crap like that. He slides his fingers over Jim's hole, verifying that yeah, he's lubed, he's ready. He takes a deep breath, giving Jim a sharply worried look. "You know I haven't done this before, right?" he murmurs breathlessly.

Jim can't help himself, huffing out a laugh into the space between them. "I'd forgotten, Bones. Jesus. How the hell did we, after everything, still end up a pair of virgins?"

Curling a palm against Bones' cheek, Jim promises, "We'll figure it out, okay? We've both done it the other way around." His head flops back against the pillow. "And we're geniuses. So c'mon." He shifts his hips, trying to catch against Bones' dick. "Do it, Bones."

He's laughing too, but god he's nervous. He doesn't think he's been this nervous since he was an eighteen year old kid already about to finish his internship and god, but he wants this more than he's wanted anything else, which humbles him because it seems so simple. "Shit," he chokes, shifting and taking a deep breath, hand on his dick to help.

"You just tell me what's good," he murmurs. "You guide me, Captain."

"What do you want, permission to board?" Jim asks, but his smile is soft, nerves forgotten in the face of Bones' own. "Here," he says, bending until he can put his hand alongside Bones' on his cock, helping it towards where he hopes to god he's stretched enough, because Bones feels enormous in his grasp. "Here," he says, when they have Bones' dick snug against his hole. "Slow. I want to see your face."

"Yeah," he gasps, practically tortured already from the slow pace of it. "Yeah. Slow." He shifts, pushing in enough that he's got just the tip inside, wanting to take this good and slow and all of a sudden, it's like he wants to collapse down -- surrounded by heat and the knowledge that there's only going to be more.

God, he loves Jim, and god, he's happy they're doing this, but McCoy has no idea how long he's going to make it.

"Slow," Jim confirms, but it comes out half-strangled as Bones begins to sink into him. It's so much, even with all that prep it's so much, and Jim doesn't think he can give another inch until he's doing it, and another, and then another. "Fuck," he grunts, because it hurts, but nothing good ever came without a little pain, and Bones' looks damn near enough blissed out for the both of them.

"Tell me," Jim groans, finding that he needs to hear it, to chase Bones' pleasure to find his own. "Tell me how I feel, Bones. I'm tight, huh? I oughta be, you're the first one to ever fuck me."

McCoy's quivering just trying to keep himself from pushing too far in at once, but he's lost all ability to really and truly think. Hell, he doesn't know what to do, but he knows that there's more heat, more tightness, more everything if he just pushes a little deeper and he wants. God, he wants. "Jim," he moans. "You're tight. You're so damn tight." He's always done this the other way around, always been bent over, ready for the other way around.

"God," he gets out, a broken hitch of a sound. "Darling, you okay?"

Jim nods, pressing more smear of lips than a kiss against Bones' jaw. "Just a lot," he says, even as he reaches, grabbing Bones' ass with both hands to pull him all the way inside, not stopping until he feels the tops of Bones' thighs against his ass. Convinced now that the worst is over, Jim mutters, "Wait, just wait," head turned to kiss at Bones shoulder, anything he can reach while his body adjusts. When the burn fades to a dull ache, Jim shifts, finding it feels far better than before.

"Okay," he exhales, catching Bones jaw in his hand to plant a firm kiss to his mouth. "You got it, fuck me, Bones."

"Fuck! Jim!" McCoy practically gasps when he gets hauled all the way inside, a pained and pleased and worried look on his face as Jim tries to kiss him -- what try, he does it pretty fucking effectively. "Shit," he gets out, awed and shocked and pissed and still so very much in love. "Okay. Okay, let's do this nice and easy," he murmurs and tries to remember the rhythm that Jim sets, one hand on Jim's torso as he equates this, somewhat, to riding a bull.

He swivels and slides, bucks his hips upwards and starts to ease in and out, brushing against that sweetly sensitive spot he knows that Jim's hauled him past like a bull in a goddamn china shop.

Bones begins to move, and Jim squeezes his eyes closed, as overwhelmed by every withdrawal that leaves him empty as he is every thrust that stuffs him full. It doesn't hurt now, it feels...like nothing Jim has words for, an intensity he's been running for all his life - he's flying over that cliff in Riverside, he's standing on the bridge, he's beneath Bones and giving him everything, everything, and then Bones gives everything back, dick sliding across that sweet spot until Jim gasps outloud, eyes wide and hands clutching at Bones' shoulders. His dick is hard and straining between them, every short brush from Bones' belly agonizingly sweet, and Jim knows if he touches himself even once he'll explode.

There's a couple of hiccups. Of course there are, it's their first time doing it like this and it's half like doing it in a mirror, not sure which way it's all supposed to go. Breathless, McCoy shifts and keeps moving, keeps thrusting, keeps pushing and letting hot and tight surround him, making him gasp. "Jim," he gets out, kissing him because he can't think of what to say and all he wants to do is kiss him and kiss him and kiss him again and again.

Jim uses every hitch, every shift and repositioning to catch his breath, but it doesn't help. Bones slides right back into him and Jim's there again, right on the knife edge of pleasure, overwhelmed and drowning in it, leg dropped from Bones' shoulder to curl around his waist to drag him deeper.

"Right here," he slurs, belated, meeting Bones' lips with open-mouthed kisses of his own. "Fuck, Bones, you feel - didn't know it'd be like this."

Lazy kisses turn determined with every thrust, every further brush, and suddenly it's like McCoy doesn't even know what he's doing. He lets gut instinct drive him forward, sliding his hand down between their bodies to get a hand on Jim's dick as he fumbles to find some coordination, unable to do it completely without slumping forward, posture paying for these sins.

"Could've drawn -- you a -- diagram," he gets out between gasps.

"Later," Jim agrees, or at least he means to, but then Bone's hand is on his dick, stripping it in time with his thrusts, and Jim is gone, past words, past thought, Bones in him and around him and so fucking deep. Jim comes, pinned like a butterfly beneath him, cracked open and shouting, tears eking from the corners of his eyes because it's just too goddamn much for one man to bear. And Jim still wants more.

"Oh, come, please," he gasps, squeezing his muscles around Bones' cock, "Please, want to feel it, come in me, Bones."

Every breath is ragged, nostrils flaring as McCoy struggles to have some kind of control in all of this. It's so fucking hard and he's so fucking hard and Jim is right below him and his hand is a mess and he feels like a mess and Jim squeezing is the last damn straw.

He comes harder than he's ever come in his entire life, vision going a little spotty for a second there, and it leaves him gasping for breath as he tries not to just slump forward into a boneless state.

Bones gasps and falls forward, and Jim feels it, every stuttered groan that shakes the chest pressed to his, feels it and thinks he wouldn't mind suffocating if it feels like this. He's still shaking when he lifts his hands, carding them through Bones' hair until the last of his groans have faded.

"We're doing this again," Jim says, even as his vision swims against a wave of post-coital bliss, and Bones' dick is still in him and it's just - insane how fantastic that is. "A lot. Sometimes with me on top. Or bent over. Or hanging from a tree, I don't fucking care, Bones, that was - " Jim smooths dark, sweaty hair from his face. "That was crazy. Amazing."

He's got enough energy left to do what he really wants, which is to grab hold of Jim by the cheeks and pull him in for a fiercely possessive kiss, using every ounce that he's got to kiss him as hard as possible and pin him to the bed to agree with Jim's notion. "Hold -- hold still a second, would you?" he mumbles, shifting until he can ease out of Jim, giving a forlorn whine when it's cold and he feels practically bereft.

Jim shudders, too, flops his head back against the pillow and says, "Least favorite part," before reaching down to pull the condom off, drop it indiscriminately over the side of the bed and haul Bones forward into his arms.

He's flushed, that familiar, upturned nose red, and Jim can't help but kiss it, pull back and look into those hazel eyes beneath unkempt hair. "You're so fucking handsome," Jim laughs, "Jesus," and wriggles his ass. "Thank god I saved myself for a looker."

He makes a noise of protest when Jim starts going overboard on the compliments. He doesn't need that, especially not when he'd rather just take in this moment as it stands. "Can't believe you let me be your first," he gets out in a soft huff, pressing slow kisses up and down Jim's neck when he manages to turn his head in that direction. "Thought maybe you weren't ever going to look at me twice, at times."

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