fic: candy jars and sticky hands
Title: candy jars and sticky hands
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mmm drug use, sex.
Word Count: 885
Summary: Jim's a stressed-out kid. Leonard thinks this is a problem.
A/N: yaaaay for jim_and_bones 's Sweetheart's challenge, my prompt was basically the summary/to write it from Bones' point of view. title and cuttext are from Garbage's Hammering in My Head, which was playing on repeat and awkwardly fitting for the content. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY LADIES.
Jim Kirk isn’t anything like Leonard’s first impression of him said. When they shared that three hour shuttle ride to San Francisco, Leonard had been fooled by consolation found in Jim’s blood stained shirt, his bruises and his easily earned respect. Leonard knows what living in chaos looks like, and maybe it was the cut of light in Jim’s eyes, but Leonard saw something that made him say yes to being the kid’s roommate. He might have even imagined them swapping booze and stories and getting over whatever damage life had done.
He did not imagine their already furiously small room to be packed with PADDs and paper books and maps and fucking posters, Leonard has a child and there are posters on walls he has to look at every day. There are complicated neon math equations scrawled across their two windows, though where Jim found the dry-erase markers, he refuses to tell. Most of Jim’s bed, too, is covered in data sheets and books.
Then again, Bones thinks, licking his thumb and sealing up a joint,he’s hardly ever here to use it.
Jim is only ever in their room to shower and study, collapsing a few times a week in a heap of limbs on a clean corner of his bed. Leonard takes pity on him those days, shoveling clutter onto the floor so it’s less cramped. Jim sleeps in fits, it can’t at all be good for him. He may be top of their class and certainly genius level, but as far as ‘repeat offender’ goes, Jim’s fallen almost completely off the radar. The kid doesn’t get into bar fights anymore, no, but he doesn’t seem to have much fun, either.
That should change.
--
Leonard greets Jim’s return at two in the morning with a flick of a lighter and a casual puff of smoke.
“You have to be kidding me,” Jim says, standing in the doorway and gaping until the sensor beeps impatiently and tries to close on him.
“Nope,” Leonard replies. He drags deep on the joint and closes his eyes, lets himself feel the seams pull apart one at a time and his head give way to finer things. His exhale bellows thick and sweet, a cloud that twirls away as it rises. “I do not have to be kidding you.”
Jim utters a noise of disgust and throws his bag onto a clean spot of floor. “It’s not that I care that you’re doing it so much as that you’re doing it now,” he says. “It reeks and I’m so fucking busy, I’ve got an exam in two days and-you’re not even listening.”
Leonard glances up from his smoke rings and cocks his head. “Sounds like you’re stressed out, kid.” With the ease of pot settling into his limbs it’s like liquid to stand up and assert himself in front of Jim, eyes heavy-lidded and confident. “I could help you with that.”
The sight of Jim’s throat working to swallow is a nice one, Leonard wants to see it again, it’s easy enough to fit his fingers to a stubbled jawline and guide Jim closer. “Breathe in,” Leonard says, and it’s three seconds to hear the crackle of burning paper and fit his mouth over Jim’s. As he lets go of the smoke Jim hesitates but does as he’s told, a gentle wheeze Leonard can feel when he tries to keep from choking.
“One,” Jim says, and smoke curls from his lips like threads of a web.
Leonard grins like the wolf he is and steps back, joint poised between his fingers. “Just one.”
Only, one turns into two and two turns into Jim pushing his tongue inside Leonard’s mouth, and they both taste like weed and exhaustion but it’s really pretty great. Jim’s hands are freezing on the skin of Leonard’s back and he kisses like a demand, a claim to take what’s rightfully his. It’s very, very easy to say yes.
“Wait,” Jim interrupts, with fingertips just shy of slipping beneath the hem of Leonard’s jeans, “I have to study.”
“Fuck that.” No fucking way, he can study after Leonard’s done sucking his dick and leaving bruises on his thighs and. Leonard licks his lips and when Jim’s utterly transfixed on watching it, Leonard knows he’s won.
“Yeah,” Jim says, “yeah.”
--
Leonard takes him apart with his teeth and sucks Jim dry, scores angry red lines down his sides with blunt fingernails and leaves shiny wet bruises on his collarbone. He lets the usual craving for munchies bleed into hunger for touch, everything’s so fucking easy, like pressing Jim into his bed and watching him gasp on Leonard’s sheets or listening to the high-pitched whine in the back of Jim’s throat when Leonard sucks his cock for a thirty minutes or two or all of them.
All Jim has said for the last hour or so is yeah and jesus and if he’s not careful Leonard might start answering to it. He absently wonders what he must look like, permanently between Jim’s legs with hair askew and ravaged lips, because Jim looks incredible with his wedgewood eyes and puffy, bitten mouth, Leonard could stay here forever and devour him.
Their fingers are still tangled when they wake up in the bleak dawn.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mmm drug use, sex.
Word Count: 885
Summary: Jim's a stressed-out kid. Leonard thinks this is a problem.
A/N: yaaaay for jim_and_bones 's Sweetheart's challenge, my prompt was basically the summary/to write it from Bones' point of view. title and cuttext are from Garbage's Hammering in My Head, which was playing on repeat and awkwardly fitting for the content. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY LADIES.
Jim Kirk isn’t anything like Leonard’s first impression of him said. When they shared that three hour shuttle ride to San Francisco, Leonard had been fooled by consolation found in Jim’s blood stained shirt, his bruises and his easily earned respect. Leonard knows what living in chaos looks like, and maybe it was the cut of light in Jim’s eyes, but Leonard saw something that made him say yes to being the kid’s roommate. He might have even imagined them swapping booze and stories and getting over whatever damage life had done.
He did not imagine their already furiously small room to be packed with PADDs and paper books and maps and fucking posters, Leonard has a child and there are posters on walls he has to look at every day. There are complicated neon math equations scrawled across their two windows, though where Jim found the dry-erase markers, he refuses to tell. Most of Jim’s bed, too, is covered in data sheets and books.
Then again, Bones thinks, licking his thumb and sealing up a joint,he’s hardly ever here to use it.
Jim is only ever in their room to shower and study, collapsing a few times a week in a heap of limbs on a clean corner of his bed. Leonard takes pity on him those days, shoveling clutter onto the floor so it’s less cramped. Jim sleeps in fits, it can’t at all be good for him. He may be top of their class and certainly genius level, but as far as ‘repeat offender’ goes, Jim’s fallen almost completely off the radar. The kid doesn’t get into bar fights anymore, no, but he doesn’t seem to have much fun, either.
That should change.
--
Leonard greets Jim’s return at two in the morning with a flick of a lighter and a casual puff of smoke.
“You have to be kidding me,” Jim says, standing in the doorway and gaping until the sensor beeps impatiently and tries to close on him.
“Nope,” Leonard replies. He drags deep on the joint and closes his eyes, lets himself feel the seams pull apart one at a time and his head give way to finer things. His exhale bellows thick and sweet, a cloud that twirls away as it rises. “I do not have to be kidding you.”
Jim utters a noise of disgust and throws his bag onto a clean spot of floor. “It’s not that I care that you’re doing it so much as that you’re doing it now,” he says. “It reeks and I’m so fucking busy, I’ve got an exam in two days and-you’re not even listening.”
Leonard glances up from his smoke rings and cocks his head. “Sounds like you’re stressed out, kid.” With the ease of pot settling into his limbs it’s like liquid to stand up and assert himself in front of Jim, eyes heavy-lidded and confident. “I could help you with that.”
The sight of Jim’s throat working to swallow is a nice one, Leonard wants to see it again, it’s easy enough to fit his fingers to a stubbled jawline and guide Jim closer. “Breathe in,” Leonard says, and it’s three seconds to hear the crackle of burning paper and fit his mouth over Jim’s. As he lets go of the smoke Jim hesitates but does as he’s told, a gentle wheeze Leonard can feel when he tries to keep from choking.
“One,” Jim says, and smoke curls from his lips like threads of a web.
Leonard grins like the wolf he is and steps back, joint poised between his fingers. “Just one.”
Only, one turns into two and two turns into Jim pushing his tongue inside Leonard’s mouth, and they both taste like weed and exhaustion but it’s really pretty great. Jim’s hands are freezing on the skin of Leonard’s back and he kisses like a demand, a claim to take what’s rightfully his. It’s very, very easy to say yes.
“Wait,” Jim interrupts, with fingertips just shy of slipping beneath the hem of Leonard’s jeans, “I have to study.”
“Fuck that.” No fucking way, he can study after Leonard’s done sucking his dick and leaving bruises on his thighs and. Leonard licks his lips and when Jim’s utterly transfixed on watching it, Leonard knows he’s won.
“Yeah,” Jim says, “yeah.”
--
Leonard takes him apart with his teeth and sucks Jim dry, scores angry red lines down his sides with blunt fingernails and leaves shiny wet bruises on his collarbone. He lets the usual craving for munchies bleed into hunger for touch, everything’s so fucking easy, like pressing Jim into his bed and watching him gasp on Leonard’s sheets or listening to the high-pitched whine in the back of Jim’s throat when Leonard sucks his cock for a thirty minutes or two or all of them.
All Jim has said for the last hour or so is yeah and jesus and if he’s not careful Leonard might start answering to it. He absently wonders what he must look like, permanently between Jim’s legs with hair askew and ravaged lips, because Jim looks incredible with his wedgewood eyes and puffy, bitten mouth, Leonard could stay here forever and devour him.
Their fingers are still tangled when they wake up in the bleak dawn.