Work Text:
Bones is furious. So furious, he's gone silent. If he could leave, Jim is sure he would. As it is, the two of them are sitting back to chest, with Jim nestled between Bones' legs, both of them stripped to their underwear. The bed is tiny, the blankets not nearly thick enough to make up for the chill. Bones' arms are wrapped around Jim's middle, holding him tight. Their soggy clothes are lying in a heap on the floor.
The station reminded Jim of the one where he met Scotty and Keenser at first, but even that station wasn't as dreary and frigid as this one. This was supposed to be a quick check in, but the transporter malfunctioned, which forced Jim and Bones to slog through a torrent of snow and to break in. Then they discovered that not only is the base empty but it got stripped of everything of use. There's no heat, no food, and no way back to the ship until the storm passes.
As much as Bones wouldn't like the situation in general, Jim knows his friend is extra tetchy because he might miss one of his calls with Joanna.
It's easy to forget that Bones is living for two. He keeps quiet about his daughter for the most part. Jim isn't entirely sure why. Bones clearly adores her, and he's always happy to share a story about her when they're knocking back a few after a mission. But he never brings her up any other time.
Jim has his suspicions, but he doubts Bones will appreciate his pushing the issue.
"I'm sorry you might miss the call," Jim tells the darkened room.
Bones doesn't reply immediately, instead rearranged his hands on Jim's belly. "It's one call," he says slowly. "I'll be sad to miss it, but there'll be others."
"You can't know you'll miss it. The storm could clear up any time now."
Bones huffs. "Nah, this one is here to stay, I'd think."
"What makes you say that?" Jim asks. He tentatively relaxes back against Bones. If Bones objects, he keeps it to himself.
"I can feel it," Bones explains softly. "This storm is here to stay."
Jim hums his agreement. Bones has a preternatural sense for things like this. It's one of a long line of borderline suspicious quirks he's discovered in Bones. They're nearly all folksy things, which Bones doesn't enjoy having pointed out to him, but it makes Jim smile when he thinks of Bones always knowing the perfect time to hit the mess.
Bones is, without a doubt, Jim's best friend. There's no one Jim relies on more.
That said, some of what they do together isn't wholly of a friend variety. As in, they've fucked. A couple times. Mind blowing times. Incredible, like no lay Jim has ever had.
He knows himself, though. Every time Bones lets Jim have a little of himself, it makes Jim itch to take more. He won't be content with just having Bones sometimes. He already wants Bones' attention all the time. He can feel himself itching to get deeper under Bones' skin, to make sure Bones wants Jim like Jim wants Bones.
He thinks Bones might want him that way, but he can't be sure.
Behind him, Bones shivers, and Jim gets a ridiculous idea.
"Hey, Bones?"
"What now?"
"I know how we can warm up fast."
He can practically feel Bones lifting his eyebrow.
"Are you honestly telling me you want to fuck right now? Here, in this stale bed in this godforsaken station?"
Jim shrugs. "I've got you, don't I?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"That's not a no."
"I know it."
Bones tucks his chin over Jim's shoulder. He slides one hand lower, cupping Jim through his boxers. Jim lets his hips push into the touch.
"Been a while, hasn't it?" Bones asks idly as he runs his thumb over Jim through the soft cotton. "I was wonderin' if you'd got tired of me."
Jim will get tired of Bones the day the earth turns flat. He just can't tell Bones that. Not yet. So he just hums and shakes his head. "Not tired of you. Just busy."
Bones nods, his stubble rasping against Jim's cheek. "Got a ship to run, don't you? I don't think the hobgoblin would take too kindly to you skipping off to see me when you're supposed to be on the bridge."
Jim grimaces. "Why are you talking about Spock right now?"
"Why not?" Bones asks. "Maybe you'll slow down a little if you're thinking about him instead of fucking." He doesn't give Jim any time to retort, just raises his hand to Jim's mouth and orders, "Lick."
Jim does. He knows how sensitive Bones' hands are, knows having running his tongue over Bones' fingers is as much a turn-on as it is a practicality. He takes his time, drawing his tongue up and around Bones' long fingers. He draws the tips of two into his mouth and sucks on them, knowing as he does that it will get a response.
Behind him, Bones squirms, and Jim knows he isn't the only one getting hard.
By the time Bones' hand is wet enough, Jim is fully hard. He can't help but shift his hips, searching for some sort of touch even though he knows, logically, there's nothing but open air between his legs.
Then Bones' hand is slipping under his waistband and taking hold of him, and Jim bites back a sob of relief.
"I missed you like this," Bones murmurs as he slides his hand up Jim's dick. "You're always so open. Not trying to hide things away from me."
Jim nods. Bones has made it clear how much he dislikes Jim's habit of internalizing things without discussing them. Jim can't blame him for being annoyed. Bones is too naturally open to have patience for people like Jim.
Yet somehow he does. He's always with Jim, just one step to the side, ready and waiting for the moment Jim can't keep things bottled up anymore.
Bones strokes Jim firm and sure, twisting over the head, slowly pumping him the way he knows drives Jim crazy. Jim feels Bones' other hand move up his thigh and through the open leg of his boxers. He runs his thumb over Jim's balls, rolls them in his palm, and Jim can't help but spread his legs farther open. He's breathing hard, hips moving with Bones' hand.
"Good?" Bones asks.
Jim bites his lip and nods quickly.
"There's nobody here, Jim. You can make noise." The hand on Jim's balls moves away, and Bones adds, "In fact, why don't you make some noise? You're always so quiet."
That's all the warning he gives before he presses against the sensitive spot behind Jim's balls.
Jim gasps, fingers scrabbling against Bones' thighs as his back jerks into an involuntary arch.
Bones hums, pleased, then does it again.
Jim can't help but whimper, the pressure not letting up this time. "Bones, fuck!"
In his own time, Bones pulls his fingers away. "It's too bad we only brought the basic medkit," he says into Jim's ear. "The other one has lube. You'd like it if we could fuck like we usually do, wouldn't you?"
Then he presses back against Jim, and it's all Jim can do to writhe in Bones' lap, his mind blank beyond the sparks of pleasure. He isn't even sure if he's breathing anymore.
He comes like that, with Bones' fingers kneading at him and Bones' other hand jerking him off. He might cry out, or maybe that's just in his mind. He can't be sure.
It takes him a long time to come back to himself. When he does, he notices he's been moved off to the side. He looks down, and that's when he realizes Bones is jerking himself off with the hand Jim came all over.
Lazily, Jim reaches to wrap his hand over Bones'.
"No fair coming without me," he slurs, head lolling against Bones' shoulder. He's ready to sleep, wants to curl up in Bones' bed with Bones beside him.
Bones grunts. His hand slides up and down his dick fast and hard- he's close. Jim can practically feel the tension coiling in Bones' belly. He's going to come any minute now. Any second...
Bones has one hand on Jim's hip, which he squeezes hard enough to bruise when he comes. Jim strokes him through it, pulling every drop from him until Bones is gasping and batting his hand away.
"Too much," he mumbles. "Done now."
Letting go, Jim tilts his head for a kiss. Bones is too winded to kiss him properly, but Jim is happy even for the sloppy press of Bones' lips to his.
"When we get back to the ship," he says against Bones' jaw, "you are going to take me to your quarters, and you are going to fuck me in your bed. That's an order."
Bones hums his agreement, and Jim smiles, content in the knowledge that this is one order Bones won't fight him on.
