ficlet: love of two is one
“When we’ve been married for fifty years,” Jim asks, his head curled into Bones’ thigh so he can feel the upward curve of his lips through his jeans, “I’m still going to be kid, aren’t I?” It’s an old argument, one well-worn but never tired. They slip into the conversation like their hands find each other at Jim’s waist. A perfect fit.
“I can’t help that you act like a teenager most days, Jim.” Bones is kidding, of course. For the most part. All right, so he’s not really kidding, but he loves that about Jim. The seemingly infantile eagerness is actually what lights Jim up from the inside. The more he sees of it, the more Bones realizes there’s an intensity behind every reckless smirk that makes Jim seem older than the sun.
“Teenager, huh?” Jim says, grinning as he quickly scrambles up and straddles Bones’ waist. The smile spreads to his eyes and Bones feels himself catch on fire. “I’ll show you who’s a teenager.”
“Really? That's your response? I rest my c-” the rest of his retort is silenced. Bones doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he responds rather enthusiastically, running his tongue along the back of Jim’s upper teeth in that way he likes. He doesn’t get what the turn-on is, but it never fails to make Jim shudder above him and the feeling goes right to his cock. Jim must have felt his reaction, because he smirks against Bones’ mouth.
“Now who’s the impatient kid?” Bones growls in return and rolls his hips to take the space between them and Jim gives willingly. They’ve always had an unspoken back-and-forth, a sacrifice-anything mentality that should scare him. (It's what brothers do for each other passes through his mind and makes him bite Jim's collarbone to hide the smile. Jim whines and suddenly his hands are all over Bones, tugging at clothes insistently. Bones moans, low with appreciation. Bones loves this part of them (and it is unquestionably a them, however indefinable), the desperation to drown in each others depths.
"Love you, Jim," and Jim bucks hard into his hip, "love you so goddamn much." His voice is barely above a whisper; he doesn't say the words often. Even now, it feels like revealing too much. But it's not a revelation to him. Bones had loved Jim long before he was ever in love with him. Loved him like his own brother (though, really, loves, because he's never stopped). And that comes with all the brotherly perks: Jim flirting outrageously in front of Bones to see how much he'll take; Bones deliberately shooting Jim down at every opportunity. Constant ribbing, pranks that got dangerous more often than not, complete disregard for the other's sensibilities-- it was sibling rivalry and jealousy at its finest, the kind of attention Bones always wanted when he saw it in his cousins.
Jim's hands make quick work of their pants and wastes no time wrapping his hand around them both, holding them together until Bones is hyper-focused on each point of contact-- each warm fingertip moving ever-so-slightly against the sensitive skin at the base of his cock, the way he can feel blood pumping through Jim as he licks into his mouth. It's too much, and he needs Jim to start moving his hand because he fears he'll start losing his goddamn vision if something doesn't happen, so he growls, "You scared, Jimboy? Didn't know you were a kid and a virgin." It's weak, but Jim allows it because he wants it just as bad. They're both too eager to get closer, fumbling and grabbing at each other like they're running out of time.
That sense of needing what the other freely offers, of sharing something deeper than blood-- it's what was missing with Jocelyn, he realizes at some point. Because at heart, McCoy is a family man. Private, too, making it hard to approach those he knows he could care for. Jim, thankfully, never gave him that option; they slipped into a shared life like they'd known each other since the days of stolen cars and cowboy novels. And though Jocelyn had shattered his belief in marriage, there was nothing Bones knew better than family. It made him protective and viciously sarcastic and willing to face anything (even space, that rushing, dark void). He looks back on the last four years and laughs right then, pulling Jim close and entwining both their hands. He laughs as he thrusts against Jim in a rhythm he didn't create, laughing at himself. Of course I fell in love with Jim. All the foundations had been laid long ago, and-- well, he couldn't believe it'd all been leading to this, to rocking against each other like the universe began and end in their shared breath. But damn if it didn't feel that way.