Jim is a perceptive guy, and it doesn’t take him long to notice what Bones does with his hands while they’re fucking. “God, Bones,” he groans between flicks of his tongue, “never wanted to be a headboard so much in my life.”
Bones frowns at him, blinking sweat from his clumped lashes. “…the fuck?” he mutters, looking almost comically befuddled.
Jim kisses the little crease between his eyebrows. “You can let go. The bed isn’t gonna take off.”
Bones’s cheeks darken, and he nods, letting go of the headboard slowly, one long finger at a time. Jim watches him, curious. He feels the beginning of an epiphany coming on, little flutters of understanding at the corner of his mind. His dick, however, does not like this pause in the proceedings at all. It throbs insistently in his hand, and he makes the mistake of looking down at it. He’s gripping his and McCoy’s, and fuck, there’s a string of pre-come linking the tips, fuckfuck.
Black stars dance behind his eyes as he thrusts mindlessly into his hand. Beneath him, McCoy shudders and moans. Jim thrusts again and McCoy makes a high, desperate sound in his throat as he arches - and grips the fucking headboard so hard it rattles.
Jim looks up again. He can barely see, he’s in such a sex-haze, but he manages to say thickly, “Seriously, Bones. Gonna cut off circulation like that. Or break my bed. Maybe I should just tie you up.”
He meant to tease, but Bones flushes darkly and his breath stutters. Like a surge of blood, Jim’s almost-epiphany comes roaring back. Leaning closer, stroking the sweat-matted hair from Bones’s brow, he says, “Is that what you want? For me to tie you up? Get my belt or something, and use it to--”
McCoy lets out a crumpled moan and tries to turn his face into the pillow, but Jim grips his jaw, forcing him to look up. “It’s okay,” he whispers, tracing Bones’s lower lip with his index finger. “Shit, that’s hot. I don’t mind. D’you want me to? Seriously, Bones, talk to me.”
Bones squeezes his eyes shut and nods briefly. That would be enough for Jim ordinarily, but the droplets of sweat clinging to Bones’s lashes look almost like tears, and the illusion makes him uncomfortable.
“It’s okay,” he says again, letting go of their erections so he can cup Bones’s cheeks. He’s still rock-hard, but this is more important. “Hey.” He brings their foreheads together. “Bones, look at me. I don’t have any problem, if it’s what you want.”
Bones opens his eyes a crack, revealing a sliver of dark, dark green. “Yeah. I want you to.”
Something still feels off, so Jim rubs his thumbs along the wide cheekbones, pressing another kiss to McCoy’s brow. Once upon a time, he thinks, someone must have given Bones shit about this particular kink of his. He wonders if it was the ex-wife. He quickly suppresses his surge of anger. There’s a special place in Hell for people who hurt Leonard McCoy - but Jim really doesn’t want to waste time thinking about that right now, not when he has more urgent matters to attend to.
He kisses his way down Bones’s face, ending at his lips, which part eagerly for him. That’s better. Not wanting to break contact, Jim wraps an arm around Bones’s shoulders, holding him close while he reaches over the side of the bed and fumbles for the pile of clothes they left on the floor. His fingers brush what feels like a sleeve of his black off-duty shirt, and with one tug, he jerks it free of the pile.
“We’ll use something better next time,” he promises, breaking the kiss reluctantly and climbing to his knees. “Gimme your wrists.”
The look of mingled wonder and appreciation in the hazel eyes is almost enough to knock Jim over the edge. He grits his teeth, tells himself it will be so much better if he doesn’t come all over Bones’s chest like a fucking adolescent - and manages to get the sleeves of the shirt tied around Bones’s wrists.
Next time, he thinks, as he pushes Bones’s hands into the pillow above his head, he’ll use something better - his belt or the sash from his robe. This’ll do for now. He runs a finger along the underside of Bones’s arm, from the heel of his palm to his armpit, eliciting a sharp inhalation.
Oh, yeah. This will do.
“Better?” he asks as he nudges Bones’s thighs apart and wraps his fingers around their dicks again, rubbing his thumb over the heads.
Bones shivers deliciously, and a smile touches his lips. “Yeah.”
“You’re totally in my power, and you fucking love it.”
Now he gets a glare and a growled, “Don’t push it, brat.”
Jim responds by twisting his wrist sharply. Bones makes a strangled sound, and jerks his hips upward, his captured hands writhing.
“God, Bones,” Jim whispers, his vision beginning to darken again as he leans closer, his lips ghosting over the bared throat. He bites teasingly at Bones’s Adam’s apple, then drags his tongue slowly up to the racing pulse. “Could’ve told me before.”
“Now you know.”
“Now I know.”
And that is Jim’s last coherent thought of the evening.