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Jim stared out at the olive grove outside their balcony. He was restive, pensive. This life of leisure and luxury was not him, not something he knew how to deal with. He turned back to the bed to look at the reason he was giving this life a shot. Bones’ powerful form was splayed over the bed, taking up the majority of it.
When Jim was in that bed Bones would be tangled up in him, a heavy arm draped possessively over him. Jim would stir, and in the next moment, Bones’ muscles would tighten, pulling Jim closer, even when he was deeply asleep. Jim would twist in his arms, shifting until he was facing his lover, kissing his eye lids, making them flutter briefly before Bones sighed and settled. Jim would rise and Bones would begin the slow sprawl that ended with him filling the bed, arms akimbo, sheets wrapped around one powerful leg, his half-hard cock hidden by sheer fabric.
Jim looked his fill, eyes grazing along Bones’ olive skin from his ankle to his bare hip and over the slight curve that only hinted at the finest ass Jim had ever seen. Huffing regretfully, Jim turned away, his eyes gazing at, but not really seeing, the blazing colors of the sunset, his thoughts miles from here. Was this home?
As the shadows in the grove lengthened, stealing all color from the landscape, melancholy settled on Jim’s shoulders like a blanket. Before it could strengthen its grip on him, Bones’ arms slid around his waist, tugging him inside. His lover was completely covered, socks, gloves and hood protecting him from the last vestiges of the dying sun. Jim went easily, didn’t argue. He wouldn’t force Bones to linger. Even a weak sunset affected Bones; the sun’s rays made his eyes water, his skin redden, and his bones ache. But he risked all that to tug Jim back to his side.
Jim went willingly, stripping off his shorts as he climbed into bed. He posed, neck arched seductively. Bones wouldn’t take the ‘bait’, was far too careful with Jim. He was not spun glass, but you wouldn’t know it by his lover’s care.
It hadn’t started this way; they had been rough, passion-filled, and desperate from the instant their eyes met in that club, the pounding bass beat nothing compared to Jim’s pulse when he first met Bones’ eyes. The world had shifted then, all the noise and color muting, dimming, swallowed entirely into the charged air between them. Bones was suddenly at his side, his hand already wrapped around Jim’s bicep, and Jim leaning into the magnetic stranger, meeting those full lips, gasping as he was slammed to the wall and kissed to within an inch of his life, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that he wanted this man as he’d never wanted anything before.
And now he was a kept man.
A mate to a vampire, but he didn’t even know what that meant. Bones never drank from him, refused to, kindling the only arguments they’d had. Especially when Bones would crack a flippant joke about giving a little back while he dined at the never ending buffet line of eager club denizens. Bones was so careful with him, tended to him as though he would break, and that was beyond laughable. Jim was a vampire hunter! He fought and killed vampires and yet he was cowed and submissive to one. He chuckled ruefully. He was sleeping with the enemy and, even worse, he wanted more.
Bones nipped at his thigh, drove Jim’s thoughts back to the present, to their bed, to his gorgeous, sexy and demanding-as-hell lover. Jim flinched away, but had no where to go. He cursed vampire speed and stamina, writhing and moaning even as Bones worked him skillfully, knew just how to drag cries and whimpers from his lips, took Jim to unimagined heights of pleasure until he was utterly spent and shredded, boneless and limp on the bed, Bones hovering over him, his eyes blazing with possessive fire until he thrust one last time and shattered, Jim’s name given like a prayer on the air.
~~*~~
Jim stared at his laptop, his mother’s e-mail blinking at him accusingly. His mind was spinning, stuck because she was the one apologizing to him. As though she’d done something, as though she was the one that had fled without a word, as though it was her guilt that ate at him and not his own. This was his choice, surely he could answer her worried questions, surely he could give her something to hold onto?
His mother, Gaila, Spock -- they all deserved an answer, some measure of truth. What the fuck should he say? There was no way he could tell them what he’d done. Who he was with.
He hit send and his gut burned at the betrayal, at the lie sleeping behind a closed door and drawn curtains. At least he’d given them some news. Let them know that he was alive and well.
Swallowing, he closed his laptop and went outside for some air and sunshine.
When he returned, it was near sunset and Bones was awake, his eyes questioning the sherry on Jim’s breath.
Jim smiled, swayed his hips, distracted Bones by casually stripping off his shirt as he huffed out, “Let’s go out dancing tonight.” Bones took the bait, allowed the diversion and made Jim forget his own name.
~~*~~
The club in Seville was perfect, the flashing lights, beautiful people and the music thrumming against his skin was exactly what Jim needed. He felt alive and almost normal as he strutted in and heads turned. He hadn’t lost it; there was no neon sign above his head that proclaimed ‘Hands Off’ but he still felt Bones’ breath on his neck, the single, whispered word restraining him better than shackles ever could.
He clenched his jaw, refused to acknowledge Bones as he downed a drink, even let a dark-eyed man grope his ass. Sadly, that didn’t provoke any reaction. Jim’s cock was firmly uninterested, making Jim growl. He caught a blonde’s eye and was soon on the dance floor. She was buxom and beautiful under the lights, her brown eyes heavy lidded and sensual as she bumped and ground against Jim.
And Jim was horny as hell, felt sharp desire in every atom, but the wanton creature plastered to him wasn’t the cause. He glanced back to the bar, his eyes instantly meeting Bones’ and he sucked in a desperate breath from the feral intensity of Bones’ gaze. Swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat, Jim ground down further into the woman, grabbing her ass. They were nearly fucking on the dance floor, but Jim didn’t care because he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the nameless female. He wanted to provoke Bones.
He succeeded, but didn’t get the outcome he wanted. Bones was on the dance floor, but not with him. He had his cock plastered to some gorgeous Spaniard’s ass even though his eyes never left Jim. The guy was probably some model with his perfect hair and cheek bones, full lips, and tall, lithe body, and had no idea what had him by the hips. Jim hissed as one of Bones’ large hands slid from slim hips to cup the guy’s cock, unable to take his eyes off them as the man arched, his head thrown back against Bones’ shoulder, baring his throat as they swayed.
That proved too much temptation for Bones and almost instantly he spun the model around, dragging him off the dance floor. The guy followed, pliant and far too willing. He was already under Bones’ spell. Jim knew what was going to happen in a shadowed corner and he bit back his anger and turned away. ’Goddammit!’ he snarled and only then realized that his dance partner had fled.
Luckily enough, he caught a blond Adonis’ eyes. The hands on his hips weren’t nearly large enough; the guy breathed too heavily and wore a sheen of sweat. Jim smiled falsely, swiveling his hips and allowing the guy to grope him even as his stomach churned. He was going to last it out this time. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Whatever Bones had done to him, he wanted no other man’s hands on him, couldn’t bear the cloying smell of too much aftershave mingled with alcohol and desperation.
He gave the Adonis a token squeeze and was gratified by the heartfelt groan he got in return, then he left the dance floor, angered by his body’s traitorous reactions. Bones could take whoever he wanted, but Jim was stuck? Helpless, unable to find any male but Bones arousing? ’Fuck this shit!’ he spat and stormed out into the night.
He leaned against a streetlight and breathed, trying to ignore the subtle emotions emanating from Bones. He didn’t know when it happened, when he became that guy, but he was pissed and off balance. Didn’t understand what this was, how it happened, how he got to this point.
A memory came unbidden, dropping him to his knees from the force of it. His whole body shuddered and he moaned. He was the guy in the club, he was the one pressed into a dark corner, ecstatic cries stolen by Bones’ lips on his, the dark corner shattering into a million shards of glass as his orgasm overtook him. He remembered that moment, remembered the sharp pain, the pull, the tug, the sudden lethargy, but the instant felt incomplete, unfinished, as if there should have been more.
Something had happened then. Bones had whimpered, he was sure of it, a broken, unbelieving ache ripped from him and Jim had reached for him. Bones had tucked him into his pants, whispered words against his throat, words so soft they couldn’t be heard, but he knew them, felt them resonate deep within, searing his insides like a brand. Then Bones had fled. And Jim had been left blinking, only a few flakes of semen on his abdomen proof that it hadn’t been a dream.
And now someone else was there, in yet another dark corner, a seemingly endless parade of beautiful people giving Bones everything, but it should be Jim.
Shouldn’t it?
~~*~~
Jim was helped into a cab by a couple of concerned tourists, the young couple earnest and fretful. He reassured them that he was fine, he’d be fine. Thanked them for their compassion for a stranger and collapsed into the vinyl upholstered backseat before giving the cabbie his address.
He was home before he realized it, paid the exorbitant fare, and dragged up the walkway. The house was dark as he knew it’d be. He had hoped that Bones would be there, that his lover had changed his routine tonight, that the jealousy and fruitless longing that was eating him up would be obliterated by Bones’ arms around him. But Bones was too much of a gentlemen to leave the guy alone and dazed, easy prey.
Jim stormed through the house, kicking at chairs and slamming doors. It was childish and that pissed him off even more. He could hear his mom’s voice chiding him for the tantrum and that just ratcheted up his fury. After grabbing a beer from the fridge, he dropped to the sofa. He needed a distraction, needed to be doing something, to have a purpose again, something besides filling Bones’ bed.
He glared at his laptop, noticing that he had new mail. Winona’s letter had left him unsettled. They were worried about him. Jim swallowed past the lump in his throat. His mother had never once asked in such plain words. She had always let him figure things out in his own time, never pushed or demanded anything. He needed to go home. He owed them all some explanation.
He lifted his head to gaze out the open patio doors, the air heavy with the scent of bougainvillea. The moon was near full and high in the sky, its light shining down on the mosaic of the terrace, the grey-green leaves of the olive grove, the distant hills. This home had been an escape, his mother had been right. He hadn’t given Nero a single thought since he’d arrived. And the memory of the splinters tearing into his palm as his father’s heart yielded to the stake hadn’t plagued his dreams. But along with that easy forgetfulness, he had abandoned his family, his friends.
When had he lost himself and all that he was? This was totally fucked! He was no one’s mistress!
Growling low in his chest, he fired off a reply, then booked a ticket. If he cleared out before Bones returned, it’d be too late for him to dissuade Jim.
Of course, Jim didn’t consider that he’d feel Bones’ anguished cry of betrayal when he read the note Jim had left. The impotent fury that pulsed in the back of Jim’s mind and sent tremors down his spine stole his breath and made him stumble. He barely caught himself before he careened into the gangplank’s wall and was immensely grateful for the business class seat when he dropped into it and a flight attendant returned in short order with perfectly chilled vodka. He couldn’t bear the thought of drinking bourbon or anything that reminded him of Bones. He tossed three back in quick succession, ignoring the way his hands trembled until the alcohol dulled his senses and he no longer felt Bones’ emotions pummeling his brain.
Fuck!
~~*~~
Jim shut off the rental car and stared at his mother’s house, at the home he’d grown up in. It looked impossibly smaller and unfamiliar, didn’t feel like home. He took a deep breath and got out, tossing his bag over his shoulder as he straightened. He startled when he realized that Chris was standing on the top step, arms crossed and expression somber.
“Chris!” he blurted out, the tension in his gut coiling tighter.
Chris moved carefully down the steps and only in that moment did Jim notice the cane that had been leaning at his side. Jim flinched and strode forward, but Chris waved him off. His eyes were stormy dark, the lines in his face deeper and his hair more grey than dark now. “If you don’t intend to stay, you best leave right now.”
“W-w-what?” Chris was studying him and Jim resisted the urge to squirm under the intense stare.
“I can’t allow you to just blow in here, stay for a bit, and disappear again. Winona doesn’t deserve that.”
Jim’s nostrils flared and he gritted his jaw. When the first flash of anger passed, he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’m not running out on her again.” Chris looked skeptical so Jim continued, “I don’t even fuckin’ know what I’m doing.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and resolutely kept his thoughts away from Bones. “But I’m home now and I’m not bailing on Mom, not again.”
Chris softened, the tension between them dissolving as he looked at Jim far too intently. “I’ll hold you to that, Son.” His lips quirked up and he canted his head toward the house. “You’re in luck then, you’re in time for dinner. And Gaila brought her blackberry cobbler.”
Jim froze mid-step and turned back to Chris, knowing just how much trouble he was in from Chris’ evil grin. “Shit!”
Chris arched one eyebrow and laughed as he got into his old pickup.
“You’re not staying?” Jim’s voice didn’t shake, but he had hoped that Chris would stay. He needed someone on his side.
“Not that I wouldn’t love to watch the show… but I think it’ll be safer if I steer clear for a few hours.” He leaned out the window and waved at Jim as his wheels kicked up gravel, leaving Jim in the dust.
“Safer for who?!” Jim shouted after him.
~~*~~
He couldn’t decide which was worse: Gaila’s frigid formality or Winona’s visible relief. Jim settled for both being equally disturbing, spending the entire dinner trying to regain his footing, to move beyond the inanely trivial conversation, the weather, really? and figure out where he stood.
He never succeeded and the tension was stifling, so thick you could cut it with a knife. He couldn’t make it any worse, he decided, so he took his usual route and leapt in with both feet, asking the question that wouldn’t leave his mind. “Okay, I know I don’t have the right to say anything, but dammit, when the hell did Chris move in?”
Gaila giggled and Winona flushed, the tension shattering as she pierced him with a cold glare, her smile teasing as she answered, “None of your business, young man.” Gaila winked at him and he knew they were going to be alright. This was his family, even if he still felt like a stranger in his own house.
Winona frowned as she put the empty cobbler dish in the sink. She was leaning heavily against the counter, her shoulders bowed. Jim approached carefully, unsure if he had the right to offer comfort, but she relaxed into his embrace. “Jimmy.”
That one word carried so many layers, far more love and forgiveness than he’d earned, but his presence, for all that it rang hollow to him, seemed welcomed and wanted.
Winona turned in his arms and looked up at him, one cool hand resting on his cheek. “You’re different, baby. I can’t tell if it’s a good different or not, but you seem to fit in your skin better.”
Her eyes were distant as she stared through him. “Are you happy?”
Jim almost went for the default, the easy one-word answer, but his mother didn’t deserve that. “I thought so. Now?” He shrugged, turned away only to meet Gaila’s solemn expression. He shoved his hands into his pockets and felt like he was fourteen again. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
Winona hugged him hard, her thin arms surprisingly strong. It took his breath away. “Make sure you figure that out, if nothing else, Jim. I only want you to be happy.”
She released him and stopped only long enough to place a quick kiss on the top of Gaila’s head as she passed. “Night. Don’t beat him up too badly, dear.”
Then she was gone and Jim was left with Gaila, with her still stiff smile and the suddenly pregnant silence.
Gaila stood and took his hand. She stopped by the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of rum. He swore it was the same one they’d bought to celebrate graduation a lifetime ago. “Rum?”
“It was that or the lemon vodka.” She wrinkled her nose at him. He cringed in shared memory.
“Yeah, okay.”
~~*~~
Jim was staring into the night sky, his elbows still fitting into the worn grooves on their old back porch. Gaila hadn’t pushed, just sat beside him, passing the bottle back and forth while waiting. She always did have more patience than Jim. The silence was less awkward than the stilted conversation over dinner, but there was a weight between them, growing as he didn’t speak.
They both started talking at once and Gaila laughed, shaking her head. Jim nodded at her, took another swallow of the rum, savoring the burn, its warmth a temporary reprieve from the emptiness in his chest.
“Your mom’s right. You’re not the same.” She canted her head at him, her lips pursed as she observed him. “I need you to talk to me, help me understand.”
He couldn’t look at her. He was almost afraid to, afraid of what she might see. “Not sure what you want from me. I killed my dad. That’s not exactly something that you just shrug off.”
“So you went to ground to lick your wounds?” She snorted her disbelief. “Tell that to Winona, but this is me, James Tiberius Kirk, and I know damn good and well that’s not how you deal with emotional shit!”
She moved closer, turning his face toward her. “This is something else.” Her tongue peeked out between her lips as she studied him intently.
“Aha!” she cried out, releasing Jim who scrambled to keep holding the bottle.
“What?”
“There’s a guy. You left us for a guy.”
Jim sucked in a surprised breath and pulled away, taking a long pull on the bottle. Gaila always did know him better than anyone.
“Is he worth it, Jimmy?”
He tried to shake off how easily she unnerved him. “How? How did you figure it out?” He thought he’d gotten better at hiding his feelings.
Gaila tugged the bottle from his loose fingers and took a healthy swallow, then wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist. “Simple. Your hickey.” She pointed to his neck.
Jim groaned and Gaila chuckled. “You didn’t answer me. Is he worth it? Are you happy? Where is he? And when are we getting to meet him?” She barraged him with questions, knew she’d wear him down. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Of course, he never could lie to Gaila.
He took another swig of the rum, the burn as familiar as sitting on this porch, Gaila’s body aligned with his. “I’m happy, or I thought I was. He… His name is Leonard and I’m head over heels. I’ve never felt like this before, never known anyone like him. He takes care of me and I’ll never want for anything, but…” He choked and shook his head, words failing him.
Gaila shifted, moving closer, wrapping an arm around his waist, settling her head on his chest. Somehow it was easier if he didn’t have to look at her, knowing that he’d gain her pity and still not be telling her everything. “But what, baby?” she asked, her tone gentle and forgiving.
“I don’t think he feels the same. We’re not… he’s not monogamous. That’s--” he reached for the bottle, he was feeling the alcohol and his tongue was starting to wag. “That’s why I left. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Shoe’s on the other foot and it sucks, doesn’t it?”
“This is different!”
Gaila looked up at him all too knowingly. The problem was she knew him, knew every last detail, every secret. She’d been at his side through them all and he’d never kept anything from her and this felt so wrong.
“Tell that to the string of broken hearts in your wake, Jimmy T. Tell that to Carol.”
He dropped his head back, hated that she was right. He’d never been the one dumped, the one clinging, the one so desperate for attention that they’d do anything.
“So you broke up with him and what now?”
“I didn’t. Didn’t break up with him.”
“What?”
“I told him I was needed here, that Mom was sick and I didn’t know when I’d be free.”
“You lied?” She was shaking her head, her curls sliding against his throat. “Man up, Jimmy boy, call Leonard. Tell him the truth and see what happens.” She looked at him and smiled, supportive and open, if a bit crooked. “Who knows, you might have it all wrong, since you completely suck at the whole communication thing.”
“Hey! I don’t!”
“Really?” She was resting heavily on him, her chin digging into his shoulder. “Then why the hell did it take you so long to let Winona know you were okay?”
“That was different. I still have trouble looking at her, knowing what I did. It’s like she had to lose him twice.”
Gaila kissed him tenderly, her lips skating over his, warm, rum-flavored breath brushing his cheek. “Oh, Jimmy. George was already dead to her, but you weren’t. The worst part for her was losing you. Never doubt that.” She patted his cheeks unsteadily, her smile filled with that fond exasperation she had just for him. “Silly boy.” Her eyes were heavy lidded, her head lolling on his chest.
“I love you, GG.”
Gaila laughed. “Love you too, JT.” She slid to the porch, exhaling heavily as her head thunked down on the wood. “Damn, boy. You’ve gotten better about holding your liquor.”
“Nah, you’ve always been a cheap drunk. C’mon. I’ll pull out the sleeper.”
“Damn straight you will.” She made floppy arms up at him and he managed to drag her limp body up and into the house, though they careened into far too many obstacles along the way, giggling and whispering as they went. Just like old times.
~~*~~
A week passed and Jim felt more at ease with each new day. He still caught Winona looking at him with that unsettling mixture of hope and fear. She hadn’t asked him his plans, and Jim was silently relieved because he had no clue how he’d answer.
He was glad he came home. He needed to. But the nights were empty and cold and he spent far too many of them splayed out on his back in the middle of the fields, the wheat surrounding him as he stared up at the stars. The dark void between the pin pricks of light echoed the hollow ache in his chest.
Jim tried to combat the endless nights with physical activity. He threw himself into all the long overdue maintenance, taking a keen delight in dragging Gaila and Spock into the work when Uhura showed up in cutoffs and an old t-shirt and glaring at him as she picked up a paintbrush. It was a sweet reminder of that summer after high school when life was still simple and they were all so innocent.
He was exhausted when he dropped into bed, but still he spent the nights tossing and turning, dreams too vivid and raw, leaving him sweating and hard. By the end of the second week, his hand did nothing to relieve the constant thrum at the edge of his awareness. He was tense and snappish by evening and they all breathed in relief when the stiff silence was broken by Spock’s arrival.
Uhura’s eyes were bright as she perched delicately on the arm of the chair Spock settled into. Gaila sat on the coffee table, the air growing expectant. Jim recognized the setup, the sheer routine eased that niggling itch and he relaxed back against the cushions, smiling as Winona curled into Chris at the other end of the sofa. They looked good together, like they belonged.
“What’s up, guys?”
“Up? Did I say anything was up, Jim?” Spock tried to pull that placid expression on Jim and Jim just shook his head.
“Cut it out, Spock. Just tell me before Gaila ruins your surprise.”
“Hey! That was only once!” Jim gave her a look of disbelief and Gaila threw her head back and laughed. “Okay, maybe there were a few times,” she conceded brightly.
Uhura nudged Spock and he sat straighter, looked at each of them, drawing them in. He was a showman at heart, though he’d deny it to his dying day. And he loved nothing better than a good lead. “There is a sizable increase in activity in Georgia. It started a week ago and I cannot identify the cause, but someone’s stirred up a hornet’s nest down there--”
“A hornet’s nest, Spock?”
“It is an apt colloquialism.”
Jim chuckled.
“We are leaving in the morning, Jim.”
“And we want you there with us. Just like old times,” Gaila added.
Winona stiffened by his side and he could see Chris frowning down at her, his arm pulling her closer. Jim swallowed. He was torn. One part of him needed to do this, needed to prove that he was not compromised. He could still tell friend from foe and he’d never let his feelings for Bones interfere with his duty. But there was that other half, the side that wasn’t confident, that wanted to stay here and pretend that he was unchanged even though he knew damned good and well he’d never be the same.
He couldn’t leave his mom, not yet, and not like this. He just got back. He turned to look at Winona and her face was drawn, but she was not looking at Jim. Her head was tucked under Chris’ chin and it was his eyes that Jim met. He saw far too much understanding there. If he went, Chris would take care of Winona, keep her together. One fear settled, but he still couldn’t go.
“I-I can’t, GG.” Gaila startled and looked confused. “I just got back. I can’t.” He begged for her understanding with his eyes, was afraid to look at Spock, but he glimpsed the subtle straightening out of the corner of his eye. Uhura had taken his hand when he tore his eyes from Gaila’s.
“I’m sorry, guys. It’s just too soon.”
“We understand, Kirk.” The warmth in Uhura’s voice surprised Jim and he openly gaped at her. “What? I’m not a cold-hearted bitch. Give me some credit.”
Uhura’s not-so-subtle reminder of how far they’d come shattered the last of the tension and Jim gave them all a genuine smile. “Nah, I never said that, just that you’re an ice queen and Spock’s damned lucky to have you.”
They were back on sure ground, comfortable and familiar, except that Jim didn’t leap up and start packing. They filed out, Gaila hugging him hard before they were gone, and Jim turned away, ran into Winona who wrapped him up in a strong embrace. He pretended he didn’t notice the wetness in her eyes and how her arms trembled as she held him.