leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's strange to have a reminder on the island of what there used to be. He's happy with his current life, happy as hell. He's got Jim, he's got a good thing going, but then there's Madelyne walking around and while he's got no intention of wooing her, it's hard to see her. It's a picture-perfect (nearly) reminder of Jean and every once in a while, it catches him off guard. Sometimes, when he calls Jim 'darling', it sticks on the tip of his tongue and he remembers doing the same with Jean.

Hell. He still remembers that the first time he and Jean had sex was right after Jim vanished the first time. Today's one of those days -- nostalgia days, as he's starting to call them -- and though he's at the Winchester to pick up Jim from after his shift, he's wound up staring at Madelyne (who's at a distance), and trying not to let himself get overwhelmed with history.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On the bed, Jim waits with both hands behind his head, not knowing what Bones is up to, but trusting that it will be something good. Still, he's not prepared when Bones walks back through that door in his science blues.

"Do I, uh," he begins, mouth dry and back suddenly ramrod straight, and it's difficult to hear over the sudden rush of blood in his ears. "Seriously?"

Months on the bridge, he'd stood right beside that damn Captain's chair and watched as Jim charted their courses through the stars. The undershirt is sweltering and the collar of the blue shirt is starting to itch, but he keeps standing at attention, chin lifted high in the air while he tries his damnedest not to smile. "Sir, I'd like to remind you that as your Chief Medical Officer, I still wield the power to overrule you, as far as power struggles go. As well, you've yet to file the form informing Starfleet as to our physical relationship. Sir."

"Yeah, well," says Jim, scooting to the edge of the bed until his legs dangle, long body reclined back on his arms. "You know me and paperwork. We don't get along nearly as well as I do with CMOs. And as I recall, you only have the power to overrule me in case of medical emergency. Do you think you'll be working me into a state of cardiac arrest, Doc?"

He finally tears his gaze away from the wall where he's picked a mark to focus on, letting slightly disinterested brown eyes skim over Jim's face. "No, sir," he promises, brow rising in a fluid arc upwards. "I don't think your heart could take a prolonged state of cardiac arrest. I think you might start growing compromised by an overwhelming amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins, potentially a case of priapism, if I do my job correctly."

He takes a step forward, resting the boots just in Jim's eyesight. "Are you about to cause a medical emergency, Kirk?"

"Wouldn't be the worst way to go. So." Heart still hammering, Jim grins up at him, eyes sweeping over Bones' from regulation stance to his neatly parted hair. "Dr. McCoy. How far does this little show of obedience to your superior officer go?"

He takes a long look at Jim, unable to help the fondness that practically floods through him. "Starfleet gave me a lot of lessons imparting the importance of following orders. Would you like to see how well I ignore them, sir?" he asks, the wicked smirk finally showing up.

Jim laughs outloud, and he can't help but get up and trace that smirk with his fingertips. "I honestly can't decide," he says, leaning into Bones' space. "As hot as it might be to see you following orders, a naughty Bones is one I could also get behind." Now it's his grin that's wicked. "So to speak."

He can't help faltering a little at that because it's such a goddamn perfect Jim moment and he loves the man in front of him above and beyond what he ever thought possible. "If you tear my uniform off of me, you're sewing it back together," he informs him, more of a whisper than anything else.

"I couldn't damage this," says Jim, fingers creeping beneath the blue uniform and the undershirt beneath to slide along the smooth, warm skin of Bones' belly. "In fact I'm tempted to ask you to leave it on, but I'm not sure I trust myself not to rip it."

On the off-chance that Jim ever does find them the way home, the last thing he wants is to end up with a ripped and torn uniform thanks to sex. God knows the comments Sulu and Uhura would make, the bastards. He only flinches slightly when Jim's fingers touch on his stomach (he's kept in decent enough shape, but he's still a little ticklish there). "Make you a deal. Find me a backup and you can do whatever you want to this one."

"Did you seriously just put my sexual fantasies at the mercy of the clothesbox?" Jim exhales, burying his smile against the long curve of Bones' throat. "God, just let me - " he says and takes a breath, carding his fingers through Bones' neatly combed hair until it's mussed again. "Just let me kiss you in it for a while, huh?"

"Sometimes, you're so easy," McCoy admits, grabbing hold of Jim by the hips and holding on tight as he tugs him in the direction of the bed, not having to walk far before he's able to incline his body down, tipping him and straddling Jim's waist before he finds a position he's more comfortable in, both arms wrapped gently around Jim's shoulders to curl him in. "Where on the ship did you want to do this?" he asks softly. "Observation deck? Ready room?"

Jim closes his eyes with a quiet groan. "Yeah, there," he says, skimming hands over Bones' blue shoulders. "In your office, too, you always look so damn intense in there. I had some ideas about the captain's chair, too."

He leans in, words forgotten while he takes the time to kiss Jim slow and thorough, an exploration of warm skin and perfect lips beneath him. "I look damn intense in my office because I kept getting put in chase of damn intense situations where there were new alien diseases under my microscope or new injuries from some insane mission," he gripes, waving his hand in the air like a prop.

Jim grabs Bones' hand and pulls it down again, tangling their fingers together over his head. "You look damn intense just doing paperwork," he says, leaning up to kiss both his eyebrows. "It's the way you arch these things."

"You're the one who gives them a workout," he says, but his words are swallowed up by the kisses he's busy giving Jim, tightening his grasp on the fingers entwined with his own. There's something like a happy sigh in his breath as he curls in tighter than before. "I hate paperwork. I didn't become a doctor so I could drown in triplicate."

"Don't have to tell me," says Jim, swinging a leg over Bones' hips. "I thought being captain would mean non-stop adventure, but it's at least sixty percent reports and logs. You know what, when we get back, let's make the ready room makeout stop number one, I need some better memories of that place."

"That's only because you turned into a responsible and hard-working captain who's realized how much paperwork running a ship filled with departments is," he murmurs. "Plus, you don't delegate near enough," he points out, while snaking his fingers over Jim's neck slowly to pull him in. "A yeoman could help with half of that work." Not that he uses any help, but he only worries about one department.

"Can't," Jim murmurs, eyes closing as he leans up for a particularly deep kiss, breathless when he breaks away again. "Secret perfectionist. But being relentlessly awesome at everything has its benefits."

"You can, you choose not to," McCoy feels compelled to point out, but his words are breathy as hell, his hair standing up on end, and there's a flush in his cheeks. It's too damn warm in the house, suddenly, and he shifts to yank the blue regulation shirt off, leaving him in the black undershirt, shooting Jim a warning look. "It's hot, not your doing."

"Besides, you've got flaws too, darlin'."

Edited 2012-09-11 14:18 (UTC)

"Sure, but even my flaws are awesome," Jim replies, and he can't see Bones with his hair on end without kissing him, has to roll up and then climb on top of him and kiss him again. "If getting a boner every time you call me darlin' can even be considered a flaw."

"That's not my fault, that's just good breeding kicking in," McCoy says as he slides both hands up Jim's cheeks to clasp him tight. "Be a sweetheart for me and unzip my boots, Captain. With your teeth, if you'd be so kind." Why they're practically to his knee, he'll never know because he doesn't want the migraine of asking Starfleet.

Jim exhales a laugh and nips Bones' bottom lip. "Think I won't?" he asks, sliding down Bones' body to take an ankle in hand, pulling Bones' legs with him over the side of the bed. Dropping onto his knees, Jim smirks up at Bones from the floor before he bends his neck, nudging the head of the zipper with his nose to make it stand upright and gripping it between his teeth.

He inhales so sharply that he worries he might just choke on the damn breath, but Jim's actually doing what he'd only been teasing about and hell, but he's not sure his dick is ready to withstand this. "Jesus," he groans. "Jim, you're gonna kill me, I swear to god."

Focused on his task, Jim hums in reply, tugging down and down, dropped onto hands and knees before he reaches the heel. "One down," he says, lifting just high enough to ease Bones' boot off and away. Discarding it, he keeps a hand wrapped loose around his ankle, rubbing with his thumb. "Same treatment for your pants?"

Edited 2012-09-12 03:30 (UTC)