leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

When he wakes up, he hears two things that make him distinctly terrified for both his life and his sanity. See, thing is, on the island, he wakes up with Jim clinging to him like a lamprey and that's about normal, that's fine. He gets used to the cat in his face yelping for food. What he's not used to is his Mama's voice shouting from downstairs that breakfast is on and if he doesn't move his ass, then Jo's gonna eat all of it.

So, you know, what in hell has he been drinking? He starts awake, hair a righteous and holy mess and he stares around him -- no grogginess left, not today. There's a dozen recognizable things around him and his eyes flit between them -- his Vitruvian man poster, the skeletal poster, his favorite sports teams and the merchandise, and the assorted antiques that litter the room. He breathes out and flops back on the bed, but it's not mattress he hits.

It's Jim.

"Fuck, ow," he hisses, then stares at the door in the event his mother (or Jo, how is Jo here, it must be break, the one time he ever got her and his grandparents left no mystery as to where she'd be spending it). He bolts for the door, clad in nothing but his tight black boxer-briefs and locks it firmly, reaching over to flick Jim in the leg. "Get up," he orders. "Now."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Think she's just grateful her son's having sex again," he admits, as wrong (wrong, wrong) as that is. "As far as she knows, I haven't gotten laid since Jocelyn left me, so she probably thinks I'm fit to explode," he drawls, grinning right back at Jim, matched for stupid and delirious fondness. "You want something, there?" he asks, noting Jim's tugging at the sweaters.

"It's hard to look at you and not touch," Jim answers, trying to get a leg around Bones' waist before he remembers his ankles, too, are secured, and grunts in frustration. "Even if you are still wearing way too many clothes."

"Maybe I'm wearing them until you give me a good reason to get them off," McCoy says, all full of that logic that the Vulcan loves so damn much. He shifts, slipping down to mouth at Jim's nipple, scraping his teeth against it lightly and easing back. "Mom's not gone that long, after all."

Jim hisses, once against reminded of his bonds when he arches, able to follow Bones' mouth when it pulls away again, but not far. "C'mon," he says, and already there's a thread of need in his voice that Jim does his best to swallow down. "Stop stopping."

"Thought you were a genius," McCoy murmurs, soft and fond. He kisses him with everything that's been pent up since he woke up this morning, but he still eases back. "Beg."

"Thought I was," Jim replies, because he's kind of terrible at it. It's the Captain in him, every demand more order than request. It takes a lot to get Jim out of that entitled headspace and into supplication. "Touch me, Bones, c'mon, I want you to."

"Yeah, I want to, too," he agrees, sliding his palms slowly up Jim's sides, letting them slide back down again and grip at his hips as he inches his way slowly down Jim's body. He eases kisses to the crook of Jim's hips before letting his jaw go slack and his mouth go wide, taking the tip of Jim's dick into his mouth and easing back to give a satisfying little 'pop' sound. "Like that?" he asks, feigning ignorance.

Jim whines hopefully at the grip on his hips, rewarded a moment later when his dick is enveloped in soft, wet heat. "Fuck," Jim groans, just beginning to harden further in Bones' mouth when it disappears. "Dammit, Bones," he growls, yanking at the sweaters around his wrists, "I swear to god."

Yeah, Jim's damn pretty when he gets pissed. It's not that McCoy wants Jim angry all the time, but there's this flush he gets to his face and a glimmer in his eyes and it makes him want to feed it, fuel it until he can't stand holding out any longer. "What's the matter, darlin'?" he drawls, setting his chin curiously at the crook of Jim's hip where it meets the thigh, stroking his fingertips lightly over the inside of Jim's bare thigh.

Lifting his head, Jim stares incredulously back at the wide eyed look Bones is giving him. "I'm going to kill you," he promises. "Probably with sex."

Yanking again, he realizes the sweater around his right wrist is loose enough to tug free. Jim hums, a small smirk all the warning he gives before he has a hand around the back of Bones' neck, hauling him up for a kiss.

He lets out a muffled sound, but he's grinning like an idiot the minute Jim gets a good hold of him. He shifts his hip so that his jeans catch Jim's erection and when he rocks his hips, there's all the friction in the world to keep him pleased. "I love you," he murmurs before he gets another kiss in before Jim can swoop in for seconds.

"Love teasing me," says Jim when they break apart. He tangles his fingers in Bones' hair, holding him steady while he works his other wrist free. When the second sweater comes loose, Jim shoves both hands down the back of Bones' jeans, helping himself to two handfuls of his ass. "Think it's time for you to get naked now, Bones."

"I think it's long past time, but you were so damn slow getting out of those sweaters that I don't know what to think, Captain Kirk," he marvels, unable to help the idiotic grin on his lips. Apparently being home and surrounded by the people he loves the most does ridiculous things to him.

"I was trying to respect your college belongings," Jim murmurs, fingers in the hem of Bones' sweater and lifting up, hiding his own ridiculous grin from view. "But now I think I'd be happy tearing you out of them."

"We're in a mental dream," McCoy points out patiently, shaking his hair loose once the sweatshirt gets past his head. "I think you can ruin my college sweatshirts. My brain'll forgive you," he says, settling down onto Jim's waist, straddling him comfortably. "I'm not joking about my Ma, though. We've got an hour."

"If it's a dream," says Jim, leaning up to drag his tongue along the underside of Bones' jaw to his ear, "Dream us up another hour, huh?" He undoes Bones' jeans blind, slides them over his hips and palms his dick. "I've got some ideas for your college bed here."

"Some things, my family escapes from," he groans, pushing his hips against Jim's hand. "And it's not my college bed. It's just the bed my parents bought me when I outgrew the single," he mutters, wanting to get that clear. "M'starting to think it's my good luck bed," he laughs softly. "All my serious relationships have christened this thing."

"You're gonna forget those," Jim murmurs, closing his eyes to enjoy the friction of Bones' hips against his own trapped erection. "How are we going to make you, hmm?" he hums, blue eyes nearly black when he opens them again. "Gonna let me ride your dick and call you plum, Bones?"

"Gonna make me forget, are you?" he taunts, but he's all for that suggestion, gripping Jim's shoulders so hard that when he lifts his fingers, he's sure there'll be small marks that match his fingertips. "If you're gonna do that, then you better get to work so my mind doesn't have time to really plant those memories deep."

Jim surges up, pulls Bones' mouth to his and kisses him as dirty as he knows how, legs wriggling until he has his ankles free, too, can roll Bones under him on the bed. "If your mind's working at all for this," he says, "I'm not doing my job," and tugs Bones' boxers down far enough to swallow his cock.

"Shit," McCoy murmurs swiftly, when Jim puts his money where his mouth is and does what he'd only been teasing at earlier. He's eternally grateful for the four poster bed and reaches for it, clinging with one hand as hard as he can. "Thinking's out the window," he promises instantly, growling the words out.

"It's early yet," says Jim, pulling off with a pop and stroking him slowly. "I know you've got lube in that bedside table. Lotion or something else as adorable. Before we leave here," Jim adds, pressing a kiss to the head of Bones' cock, "You're gonna tell me how you used to lay in your bed and touch yourself."

"I was a goddamn doctor by twenty-one," he growls at Jim, shooting him a disbelieving look as he slaps his hand around, looking for the hook on the drawer. "Of course I have lube," he says sharply, opening the drawer and leaving the rest of the task to Jim. He's too busy sinking into the bed like he yearns to belong there.

Jim pulls a tube triumphantly from the drawer, his grin disappearing with a frown and smack to the side of Bones' ass. "Hey, this is still a team effort, plum." Seizing Bones' hand, Jim squeezes a sizable dollop of lube onto it and guides it towards his ass. "Hurry, I hear we don't have much time."

"Asshole," he gripes, but he doesn't need a second prodding reminder before he slips his slicked up fingers into Jim's ass, taking his slow time to prepare him so he doesn't do anything like act like his ass is sore in front of his mother. He might die of humiliation from that, even if this is all in his brain.

Three fingers after the two, then he takes the time to prepare himself, as well. "You feel ready, peaches?" he snarks.