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

He's a little hazy, but he's aware that his boot's off and Jim's asking about something else -- his pants, he thinks. "I ever mention you're possibly the best boyfriend I've ever had," he offers, a bit strangled, but overly fond. "Shit," he murmurs. "Love you for that alone."

McCoy does manage to sit up slightly, reaching out with both hands to grab hold of Jim's shoulders, hauling him back up. "Know what I want to do in the ready room? Get behind that desk of yours and see if I couldn't make you lose your top while you took meetings."

"On these knees?" Jim asks, grinning and tickling the tops of them with his fingertips. "You know, that sounded like capitulation to me. You relaxing your 'no sex in public' rule?"

He winces, a knee-jerk (yeah, he's aware how punny that is) reaction in the making as he twitches away from Jim. "If you made a single sound, you wouldn't have gotten laid in weeks, so I'm failing to see what's so public about you doing paperwork while getting real pleasurable attention."

"I see," says Jim, gripping his knee more firmly this time, fingers trailing up a strong length of thigh. "And I think I can abide that definition. And furthermore, I think we need to test it in one of our offices without delay."

He doesn't fidget this time because he doesn't want to get away. Instead, he shifts and slots their bodies together, making the best pouting face he can to somewhat tease Jim. "You're always full of good ideas," he murmurs. "Your genius mind's running a million miles an hour and you overlook the simple things."

"To be fair," Jim replies with a gasp, hitching their hips together closer still, "When it comes to my big ideas where you're concerned, my blood is usually far, far away from my brain."

"Not always," he argues, since he's still in denial about the first three years and change of their friendship. Then, Jim's bright ideas during the Academy had been far, far from it. He slips his fingers between their bodies, grabbing hold of Jim's hip to give him leverage as he rocks his hips forward. "Hell, Jim, if we were doing this on a ship, Starfleet would try and get me kicked off your bridge ASAP."

"Wouldn't dare," Jim manages, eyes closed as Bones' body slides against his just right, pleasure sparking along his every nerve. "I'd tell Pike, Bones, we gotta get - we need to get substantially more naked."

"I'd pay to see the look on his face when you said that," he quips, but he's instantly arching his back in a graceful arc, wrapping his legs around Jim's waist to lock on there as he takes the black undershirt off, throwing it across the room, scrabbling with clumsy fingers to make Jim's shirt do the same.

Jim helps, or tries to, halfway to tearing it before he gets the damn thing over his head. "Pants, too," he urges, rolling Bones onto his back and ducking down before he can be stopped, slowing only when he has Bones' zipper in his mouth and on its way down.

Dizzy with the sight of it, McCoy shifts until he's got his hand up to grab at the headboard, hips arching upwards now that he's in nothing more than a pair of black socks and the tight black boxer-briefs that're definitely not Starfleet issued. "Goddamn overly attractive sex fiend," he bitches, but he's grinning like an idiot as he does.

"You love it," Jim replies, coming back up with a grin that breaks apart with a groan when he sees Bones. "Fuck, that's hot, keep gripping the headboard," he exhales, palming Bones through his briefs. "Make you a deal," he says and squeezes, "You don't let go of the headboard, I don't stop blowing you."

"Sounds like a great deal to me," he admits breathlessly, shifting his other hand. He crosses his arms at the wrists, fingers splayed as he grabs hold of the headboard and refuses to let go of it. From here, it's easy because he wants that blowjob more than he wants nearly anything else. "Shit," he gasps. "Hurry it up, will you?"

"Patience," Jim breathes, even though he feels damn impatient himself, staring down at Bones' every muscle stretched taut with wanting. Crawling up his body, Jim presses a kiss to the tip of his nose and reiterates, "Don't let go," both hands around Bones' ribcage when he ducks his head and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

He's trying to breathe as steady as he can manage, but hell if he knows how to do that when Jim's trying to torture him like this. He's sure the voting public have no goddamn idea how cruel Jim can be when it comes to the bedroom, but McCoy feels like that's a secret he's willing to keep.

"Might have to tie me up," he warns. "I could let go, otherwise."

"You won't let go," Jim promises, lifting his mouth with a wet pop. Reaching for Bones' discarded shirt, he loops it around both his wrists, tying them loosely to the headboard. "You try, and it'll stretch, and you won't do that because I love this shirt and it will make me sad, got it? And also."

Jim leans down, curling his tongue around the lobe of Bones' ear before he continues, "I'll take my mouth off your dick."

He doesn't mind the shirt either, but it's Jim's being upset that he's really going to care about. "Those are both bad things," he says considerately, like he really has to weigh the options, but he tightens his nails and his grip and holds on, just holds on as best as he can. "You've got a helluva talented mouth, too."

Jim grins and sits back with a hum, casting an appreciative glance over his conquest. "Seriously," he says, palming Bones' side, fingers sweeping up and over a pleasantly muscled chest, tracing up an arm to his bound hands. "This is a good look." With a sharpening grin, Jim resumes his attention to Bones' nipples, gradually kissing his way downward. "We are exploring this further when I find some better restraints. Boldly."

"You would think so. Hell, I'm surprised you haven't gagged me," he mutters, though it's just another feather in the cap that suspects that secretly, Jim actually gets off on hearing him bitch. He shivers when Jim's lips brush over his nipple, closing his eyes as he gets comfortable. "Think next time, it'll be your turn to get bound up."

Jim laughs and bites the meat of Bones' side. "I think you'll find it as hard as ever to keep me down," he murmurs, nuzzling down Bones' happy trail. He hits the edge of his briefs and traces the line of them with his tongue, tipping a wicked look up at Bones when, as should now be expected, he takes the waistband between his teeth and eases them down.

"I'm bigger than you," he growls, which isn't doing anything more than stating the fact of their situation. He lets out a soft breath and that turns sharp when suddenly Jim's got his teeth on his briefs. He does his best not to flex his arms and stretch the shirt, but hell, it's not easy.

"You're an inch taller!" Jim exclaims, popping up again. "I'm stronger and I've got way more combat training. And," he adds, taking Bones in hand and stroking slowly, "I fight dirty."

"And my shoulders could eat yours," is his growled reply, though he's not sure he really wants to do much bickering when Jim's got him so nicely taken care of like this. "Shit, you do fight dirty," he gasps. "Remind me never to watch you debate."

"Case in point," Jim replies, breaking off to lick a stripe root to tip, taking the head of Bones' straining cock into his mouth for a brief swirl of tongue. "I don't like to lose. Still holding on, Bones?"

"You really don't like to lose, no," he agrees, still shocked at how much Jim can draw out of him with his mouth and tongue alone. He holds on, but doesn't pull, tipping his head back. "Forgot what we're playing for, right now."