Bones loves old-timey Latin music, and normally discovering this would have been as hilarious as it sounds, but the reality of it is a whole different thing.
Jim wouldn’t have ever believed it in a million years if he hadn’t seen it for himself, hadn’t made the unfortunate life choice to go buy donuts and then decide to use the lock code Bones had given him for emergencies only Jim, and if you abuse that right I have no problem using your skinny ass as a pin cushion. Really, it’s his own fault he’d just walked right into the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
It’s Bones in flagrante delicto, or at least the back of Bones, low-slung boxers sticking to freshly showered skin, his hair wild and finger-combed, old Latin music blasting through the dorm room. He’s all hips and firm ass and acres of golden skin and shoulders, and Jim had always known Bones was a fine looking man, but there’s the appreciation for the line of his body in their cadet uniform and then there’s this. He’s got a hand on the flat of his belly and his shoulders are moving and his hips are doing something Jim didn’t think Bones was capable of, and a dozen moments all coalesce into:
the way Bones looks early in the morning when they meet for breakfast, his eyes hooded and grouchy and low, his mouth kind of soft, sleepy and unready to face the world;
the way he took care of people and healed people and oh god loved babies so much, all gruff and embarrassed and pretty much incapable of not cuddling and tickling his littlest patients, and moms just let him because Bones is pretty much just exudes dad all over everything and everyone and it’s fucking adorable;
the way that, if Jim was really persistent, and on his A-Game, he could make Bones laugh so hard he cried;
the way that he looked at Jim sometimes, like he’s waiting for Jim to figure it out already.
If the back view is devastating, the front is a damn Greek tragedy. Bones has hair, on his chest and down his belly disappearing into the low, low line his boxers cut across his hips. He’s staring at Jim and Jim is staring back, and it’s pretty much not at all what he thought was going to happen. Aforementioned pin cushioning aside, Jim was pretty sure that Bones would turn bright red, splutter, yell at him for fifteen minutes while he ran around looking for a shirt like a wronged southern belle, and then kick him out on his ass.
That doesn’t happen, and Jim doesn’t know why until he realizes that he’s as hard as he’s ever been, which sounds superfluous because Jim likes sex and has a lot of it but it still stands: hard. So hard that the muscles in his gut clench like he wants to hunch over to relieve the pressure of suddenly being this turned on, like his body can’t keep up with his brain which is right at this minute screaming ABORT ABORT ABORT.
Bones eyes are wide, surprised and green and gorgeous, and he isn’t built or anything except he is, his big shoulders and his trim waist and his biceps and his chest and okay so he’s a little built, he is perhaps more than slightly built, though Jim knows Bones would just roll his eyes and growl something about keeping up with you heathens. Bones is staring at him and not screaming like a wronged Victorian lady clutching her pearls, and the music is still pumping and Bones shifts his weight and huh, Bones is hard too.
Holy shit, Bones is hard too.
“You alright?” Bones asks under the sound of the music. “Because I remember specifically telling you that you could only use the code in a dire emergency. The building on fire?”
“I asked you, is the building on fire.”
Jim shakes his head.
“You hurt somewhere?”
He swallows. “No.”
Then: “I brought you Apology Donuts from that place you like in Sacramento. For the thing. Not this thing. The other thing. Because it’s weird and I’m worried it’ll never go away.”
The other thing being an untimely, half-drunk, really devastating kiss in front of the Sunfire Bar two weeks ago which had been heavy between them ever since, weighing each word they said to each other down with so much awkwardness and weirdness that Jim had been going half-crazy with worry that he’d lost the best friend he’d ever had because his glands were assholes.
Bones shifts his weight again and Jim’s knees go weak because Bones is half naked and all damp and built and hard and his cock is big, tenting the front of his thin boxer shorts and Jim thinks he’s probably making an ass of himself but he can’t quite seem to get past monosyllables, not with Bones tenting out his boxers with his big cock and Jim’s mouth flooding and his knees weak.
Bones leans over and hits a button on his PADD, and the muscles all along his flank, from hip to armpit, ripple. He thinks Bones has turned the music off, but the song has just changed, and Jim should have seen this coming, he really, really should have, except by the time he’s realized what’s about to happen Bones is all up in his space, smelling so good it should be illegal, damp and rosy-cheeked and so close he can see the specks of gold in his dark green eyes. “You and I are going to have words about this breach in privacy, Jimmy,” he says, and takes the box of donuts, sets them on his desk. “While it’s a nice gesture, in this one circumstance donuts aren’t the answer.”
That’s Bones’ hand on Jim’s hip, and he’s pulling him, molasses-slow, against him, and it’s rewriting their whole fucking relationship, and Jim wants to yell wait no what if we can’t be friends after this except Bones is seating Jim’s pelvis in against the long, flat plain of his bare, damp thigh and Jim is pretty sure that this is the road to a coronary. “What are you doing?”
“If I’ve got to explain it to you, I’m doin’ it wrong,” Bones says, and he isn’t smiling except the laugh lines fanning out from each eye crinkle. This close he can see the way the heat of the shower blushed up Bones’ skin so beautiful and pink and this is his buddy, his pal, this is Bones who has seen him at his literal worst and yeah that’s also his hand at the small of Jim’s back and when the beat begins he moves them together, some sensuous gorgeous thing that does things to Jim’s cock that he didn’t think were possible.
It should be ridiculous. The two of them in a dorm room, clothes and books and shit everywhere, the singer’s voice wailing la gente anda diciendo por allí, que tu quisieras acercarte a mi, but it isn’t ridiculous. It’s Bones teaching him how to move, how he likes it, his shoulders and his gorgeous mouth and Bones leads Jim’s hand up to his shoulder, back around to his neck, and he’s staring at Jim’s mouth and Jim is staring back. They’re moving together and it isn’t so old-timey hilarious right now, with the beat matching the way Jim’s heart is racing, the heat between them. Jesus he’s in his reds, and Bones is nearly naked, and Bones kisses him and it’s as good as it was two weeks ago, better, because Bones is moving his hips with a steadying hand on Jim’s ass, and a shudder runs all down Jim’s neck and back, and Bones murmurs there against his mouth, “Look at you. Been dying for this, haven’t you?” and it’s filthy and amazing and Jim’s joints are all suddenly made of water.
Bones pivots them, takes two steps back and he’s yanking Jim’s uniform jacket off, tugging his black under-shirt up over his head, and Jim’s brain is yowling like an over-excited cat because he’s about to have sex with his best friend and he’s terrified and also really, ludicrously turned on, so turned on that when Bones says, “Oh, you’re so close. You want to come, sugar? Well come on now, take the edge off. Let me see,” Jim comes inside of his uniform pants like a fucking teenager, muffling his cry into Bones’ shoulder. Bones is whispering reassurances under the music, low and steady as Jim comes down from it, and Bones is smiling against his temple and Jim says, “Please stop with your face”, but instead all that actually comes out is “Please”.
He says it a lot, again and again, when Bones lays him back in his bed and sets his tongue to his nipples and ribs and hips and thighs, down between his legs where he’s sticky and hardening again into the heat of Bones’ mouth. He says it when Bones pushes him over onto his side, fucking manhandling him, and Jim has never been manhandled in his life what with being over six feet tall and kind of wily, but he doesn’t mind getting manhandled now because it’s hot, getting pushed around and made ready. He’s shaking a bit but Bones just murmurs quiet reassurances against his skin as he gets the lube, but instead of getting him ready to take Bones’ huge fucking cock, he strokes between Jim’s thighs, the hot, tight space between them. When Jim realizes what he’s doing he moans, loudly, and Bones laughs against his back, shoulder to toe. It’s an easy thing to stroke his cock snug between Jim’s thighs, and begin a slow, rolling thrust against the swell of Jim’s balls, all the while murmuring filth in his ear. “This is all you needed, isn’t it? Shoulda known, sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t see. You’ve needed this for ages.”
“I didn’t,” Jim sobs, which is a filthy fucking lie because his cock keeps jumping, filling up and twitching with blood, and Bones’ cock is big and fucking into the heat of Jim’s thighs and he reaches down and has to touch, has to feel the head of Bones’ cock there against his balls. He’s slippery with lube and precome, hot as fire, and Bones makes a sound low and deep in his throat and Jim can’t help it, he sucks on his fingers, the hot bitter flavor of precome.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bones says, and gets a hand on Jim’s cock, nice and tight and hot, the other arm a band of iron under Jim’s neck and across his shoulder and arm, holding him in place as Bones snaps his hips, fucks into the hot channel between Jim’s thighs. He tightens his legs up just to hear Bones moan, and they’re fucking one another, hips moving in counterpoint.
Jim has this secret thing where he fucking loves cock. He doesn’t indulge in it ever because it’s too much for casual encounters, but mostly because he could never give up control like that to anyone, beneath them and pinned and powerless. It terrifies him when the feeling rears its ugly head, and he’s learned over the years to scratch that particular itch with his favorite dildo, filled hot and full and begging no one.
Bones is fucking him, but it isn’t the fucking he wants, and while part of Jim is cringing with visceral horror about what he’s about to do, the bigger part of him wants something inside that empty starving place in him he ignores 90% of the time, and all of a sudden this whole thing, this whole fucking encounter destroys whatever ideas Jim had of keeping this a casual thing.
He does something he’s never done before in his life: he begs.
It comes over him in a wave, and he hears himself babble, “Please Bones, it’s not enough, please,” and Bones freezes and Jim’s ruined this, and he wishes he could stop, he wishes he could shut his fucking mouth, and he tries and tries and then he says, like it’s been ripped out of him, “I want you inside me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bones hisses, and then he’s letting go of Jim’s cock and slipping those gorgeous fingers into him, stretching him, and Jim is not wailing except he is, and Bones says, “Wait, wait,” and Jim is maybe sobbing when he begs, “Please Bones, I need it,” and Bones says, “Jesus Christ,” and “I know, I’m coming, I’m coming sweetheart, you’re just too goddamned fucking tight, hold on.”
And then he’s there, pressing in, and Jim muffles his cries against the arm Bones has clamped around him and it’s too tight and not enough prep and Bones’ cock burns going into him, and no sooner does Bones bottom out, hips flush against Jim’s ass, that he comes like crazy. He comes clenching around Bones’ cock and the wave of it makes him dizzy with how intense it feels, how good it feels, and Bones’ hand is clamped around his cock but even that is second to the brighthotgood orgasm rolling through his pelvis, the clench and release of that gorgeous fucking cock buried so deep inside of him.
Bones is panting against him as Jim comes down, and oh Bones hasn’t come, he’s steel and heat buried in Jim’s body, and Jim unlocks his teeth from Bones’ forearm and lolls his head back against that gorgeous bicep. “Come on, big guy,” he mumbles. “Fuck me.”
“Not nearly enough preparation,” Bones snarls, and Jim hears everything he doesn’t say, I’m not fucking you with my monster cock and two fingers of prep you overgrown idiot, and okay this might be Jim’s first rodeo and yeah it hurts, but it’s the good hurt, the kind of hurt that will feel so good.
He rolls his hips back and Bones gasps and oh, yeah, there’s the southern belle, and Jim laughs and does it again, and again, and Bones is moaning again and fucking him, shallow and slow, and Jim says, “Come on, fuck me,” and Bones growls, “I am,” and he’s not so sweet now when he’s been pushed to this point, the point men got to sometimes when the fucking was too good and kind of primal and animal, wanting to let go but too aware and too caring to hurt his partner. Jim gets it, been pushed there before too, and he can remember the frustration and need and affection. He kisses Bones’ arm there where it’s hairy and the muscles are standing out with his grip on Jim’s chest. Jim’s pretty sure he’s going to be bruised as fuck tomorrow and that is awesome, bruises to match the burn of his ass if he gets what he wants.
Bones pulls back and out of him and for a second Jim thinks he’s ending it, it’s done, and he’s startled by how not okay he is by that. Before he can voice a complaint, or maybe beg again for Bones to please fuck him please, he hears the snap of a bottle, and then Bones is pushing fingers into him again and muttering, “It’s alright, just getting you wet sweetheart, I know I’m big and you’re hurting,” and Jim’s belly goes liquid, and his toes curl and his body arches back without his say so.
He never really got soft and just the thought of it, of hurting every time he sits down for the next few days, remembering Bones fucking him into the mattress, makes him groan wildly, and pull Bones’ hand from his ass back to his cock, hardening up again between his thighs. Bones says, “You are a fucking degenerate Jim,” and Jim can’t help it, he laughs and Bones fucks into him now with a sharp snap of his hips, angling up to nail Jim’s prostate. “Think you can come again darlin’? Come while I fuck you good?” and oh Jesus.
It hurts until it doesn’t, until Jim’s all stretched out around Bones’ cock like he was made just for him, and they fuck and fuck and the sweat builds between them and the music is still on, and all Jim can taste is heat. Bones is fucking him with deep, powerful rolls of his hips, giving Jim all he can take and more, and Jim is yowling and it would be really embarrassing except Bones is nailing his prostate with each fuck forward and he’s gotten hard again too fast and everything hurts so good. Bones is working Jim’s cock like he’s got this down to an art form, no teasing now, just getting him there again with each stroke of his fingers over the head of Jim’s over-sensitive cock.
Jim loses time, caught between both sensations, and he’s babbling and Bones is groaning continuously against Jim’s back and then he starts to jerk, his hips start to lose time against Jim’s ass. He’s gasping against Jim’s ear, “Come on, Jim, come on. Want to feel you all tight again around my cock. You wanted me inside you so you could fuck my cock against your prostate. Don’t think I don’t know how sensitive it is, look at you. Your eyes roll up when I hit it just. Right,” and Jim wails and scrabbles against his grip, arching back into the roll of Bones’ hips as his body sings. “Come on, sugar. I wanna get you there one more time. Let it go,” and then like a true asshole, Bones twists his fingers viciously around the head of Jim’s cock and sends him face first into orgasm.
He’s shuddering through it when Bones cries out, and Jim gets to feel, front row and center, what Bones is like when he comes. He fucks his cock in once, twice, fingers clamped on Jim’s hip and face pressed there in the hollow of Jim’s neck, before burying himself and coming with a loud, choked moan. Bones shakes through his orgasm, the kind of man who doesn’t just stay buried, but who rolls his hips as he comes, getting it deep with each slow, gorgeous fuck forward. Jim shudders, cock dribbling and balls aching and making the most embarrassing noises he has ever made, but Jim is pretty sure nobody would ever blame him because Bones is still fucking him with those slow, deep rolls of his hips like he can’t help it and he’s maybe crying because his eyes are burning and everything is sore and perfect.
The music had stopped at one point, and now all Jim can hear are the deep, panting breaths Bones heaves. The window is open over the bed, letting in a cool spring breeze that feels like heaven against Jim’s overheated skin. He’s breathing like he just ran ten miles, and he can’t help but stroke his cock, sore and making him shudder. Bones’ fingers join his, gentle on sensitive skin.
Bones’ cock is buried so good and he’s a hot weight all down Jim’s back and Jim wants to kiss him, he wants to kiss him so bad and Bones mumbles, “Shh, I know, come here,” and then they are, they’re making out over Jim’s shoulder, and Bones strokes his fingers into Jim’s hair, helps him turn his head to make their kiss deeper.
He’s so sleepy, and he feels so good, and not even Bones slowly, carefully pulling out of him can change that. Jim’s pretty powerless to stop himself from turning over to face Bones. He’s streaked with sweat and come, all red-lipped and rosy-cheeked and fucked out, his eyes soft like Jim doesn’t get to see nearly often enough. Bones runs his big thumb down the stubble on Jim’s jaw, down his throat to the hollow. “Alright?”
“You made me come three times,” Jim mumbles, and when Bones snorts and flops over onto his back Jim follows, gets himself all tucked up along his side, cheek on Bones’ shoulder and arm slung over his middle. “I am fantastic.”
“I can’t believe we just had sex,” Bones says, hand over his face. He’s smiling though, score, and Jim grins up at him.
“Three times, Bones, what the hell, I haven’t done that since high school.”
Bones puts on his Concerned Doctor face, but it’s got a pretty healthy dose of Smug Bastard thrown in, which is hilarious. He runs his fingers down Jim’s back, down low between the cheeks of his ass, and thumbs soft against Jim’s hole, wet and sticky and oh. Oh. “Sore?” he asks, stroking softly, all self-satisfied and gorgeous. “I can get the dermal.”
He feels suddenly, weirdly, shy. “I like it,” he says, and when Bones arches that brow at him, he adds, “When it hurts, after,” and gets to watch Bones’ eyes get dark in a way that Jim has quickly realized is a prelude to sex.
“Hey, I almost forgot,” he says, and climbs over Bones, groaning before he hobbles to his feet and limps over to the desk. “I went to Sacramento, a god-forsaken hour by shuttle in a rainstorm, may I add, just to buy you these.”
He climbs back over Bones and sets the box of frou-frou artisanal donuts on his stomach. Bones rolls his eyes and sits up just enough to open the box and see the spread. “What did you call these? Apology donuts?”
“Yup. Though in hindsight, I’m not sorry at all,” Jim says, and props his chin up on Bones’ chest as Bones inhales one of the custard filled heart attacks. Bones’ body is hard and lean and yet surprisingly cuddle-able, which he should not be surprised about. That was Bones in a nutshell. Hard on the outside, surprising mushball of mush on the inside. “Are you sorry?”
“No,” Bones says. “No, Jim. I’m not sorry.”
It’s like the sun just came out. Jim feels warm from his head to his toes, and he grins, and Bones does too, and they lay there grinning like idiots at each other until the urge to kiss is unbearable. He licks Bones’ lower lip, sucks it softly into his mouth. Bones pulls free after only a second, but only so that he can kiss Jim stupid, sugar pastry between them.
They’re panting when they let go of each other, and Jim licks his lips, stares into those gorgeous green eyes. “I’m going to tell everyone we know that you dance to Latin music in the buff,” he whispers lovingly, and gets to watch Bones explode with laughter and roll them back over the sheets.