Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Kirk/McCoy
Summary: After every close call, it happens. Angsty, with a dash of hope.
Word Count: 1006 according to MS Word
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N: Yet ANOTHER fic written for jim_and_bones for the ship wars at st_respect. Yes, we're recruiting again. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO JOIN. *swings pocketwatch in front of all your eyes*
It was always like this between them, every single time. So much communicated, and so little said.
After each one of Jim's close calls on an away mission, or the latest standoff with the Klingons, or a near-disaster with a piece of equipment that was supposed to be completely safe, it happened. It happened because Jim was still riding the bleeding edge of his adrenaline high and needed more sensation so he'd really feel alive, and Bones was so fucking scared that he'd lost him this time that he wanted to cling to Jim, swim in his veins and feel for himself the lifeblood that was the sole tenuous thread tethering Jim to this world.
There were no words to express how they felt, and neither wanted to think about this thing between them for long enough to put it into words anyway. They both knew it was there, and maybe it was better if it just stayed unacknowledged, roiling beneath the surface of every look and touch.
It had happened in Bones' office in sickbay, in the shuttle Galileo, hell, it had happened while they were still down planetside and had only just escaped from whatever was trying to kill them that day. But tonight, and most often, it happened in Jim's quarters.
They maintained propriety - just barely - walking down the hall shoulder to shoulder, with Bones keeping a hand unobtrusively under Jim's elbow in case he stumbled because he really shouldn't be walking yet but Jim was stubborn like that, and hell, Bones'd be a bit of a hypocrite if he wouldn't let Jim walk since he was planning to fuck the everliving shit out of him as soon as they got to Jim's quarters, and sex - at least the way they did it - was a lot more strenuous than walking down a corridor.
As soon as the door slid closed behind them, Bones turned Jim around, pressed him up against it, and kissed him desperately. He kissed all his fear, all his pain and anger and frantic need for Jim to be safe goddammit into Jim's hot, eager mouth. Jim took it all, greedy, and gave back his fierce joy and his fear and his need to do this, to always chase destruction and just barely survive, only maybe one of these times he wouldn't survive, and it didn't matter because while he was doing it he felt.
There were ugly, animal grunts as clothing was torn off on their way to the bed. There was no foreplay - foreplay was for people who had time to waste and they needed this now. And so with the bare minimum of preparation that Bones would allow - Jim would've preferred none at all - Bones was looming over Jim, pushing his legs apart and driving in hard and brutal and Jim was letting out a warbling cry that only spurred Bones on and then Jesus Christ Bones was buried to the hilt and yes, god, this was what they needed.
Bones fucked him mercilessly, with his hands on Jim's wrists, pinning him to the bed, and Jim's legs wrapped around his hips, Jim lifting to meet every thrust and digging his heels in to urge Bones deeper. It hurt like a son of a bitch, the way Bones' barely-lubed cock slammed into Jim's tight channel, but that just made it better - Bones riding out his anger at Jim's recklessness and Jim taking it as his penance for this time and all the times in the past and all the times that they both knew were to come.
There were no words, and no kisses, but that didn't mean mouths weren't involved. Bones nipped at Jim's earlobe, his lips, his neck, teeth sinking into flesh just this side of hard enough to mark. Bones' eyes were challenging, daring Jim to say anything to stop him. Jim never did, though, and he let his own eyes show everything that he wouldn't say.
His eyes said I'm sorry, and Bones' said Fuck that, stop doing this to me, don't you know I love you, you idiot? And Jim's said Yeah, I know, and I love you too, but it's not enough, and it's just who I am and I'm sorry, sorry, sorry. Bones' said Will it ever be enough? Will I ever be enough? And Jim's said I don't know and after that there was really nothing more to be said and so with one last deep, hard stroke to punish them both they came with a scream and a sob, and neither of them knew which had made which sound.
They squeezed their eyes shut as they rode out their climax, because it was too damn painful to look at each other and know that they weren't really one flesh and one soul, and never would be. It was too painful for Bones to see in Jim the fanatical lust for the next novel experience, the next impossible feat, and to know that Jim's desire for Bones could never compare with that. It was too painful for Jim to see in Bones the scars and shadows that he himself etched into Bones' spirit with every reckless thing he did, and to admit that he was going down, sooner rather than later, and that he was going to bring Bones down with him.
In the aftermath, there was silence punctuated by the sound of heavy breathing. Bones rolled onto his back, not touching Jim now that it was over. He'd get up in a minute, get dressed and walk out of the room without a backward glance, because they hadn't talked at all but they'd both said everything there was to say.
Only Jim was turning to him and opening his mouth, croaking out, hoarse and dry, "Bones, d'you think you could stay?"
And his heart was hammering because this wasn't in the script, dammit, but he forced air through his own lips and said "Yeah, Jim. Yeah, I could do that."