Chapter Text
Sadness flies on the wings of the morning and out of the heart of darkness comes the light. ~Jean Giraudoux
Amazing banner by avictoriangirl, give her much praise and love!
*~*
Jim couldn’t sleep… again. He hadn’t been sleeping much or well at all since he’d left Bones, his nightly dreams growing far too vivid and intense for rest. What had begun as the merest ghost of erotic fantasies had given way to scenes so realistic, he could taste Bones, smell him on the air when he awoke. He had been coping with those, but now there were the nightmares. Dreams filled with heart stopping terror, long hours of being hunted interspersed with achingly clear glimpses of simple moments with Bones.
Scrubbing his face, Jim groaned and flopped back onto the bed. It was no use. His body was still pumped up with adrenaline, still reacting as though he’d been running for his life; there was no way he could even contemplate sleep. He rolled out of bed and tossed on a discarded t-shirt, creeping down the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky steps. He regretted not fixing those now. At least he had made sure the back door didn’t squeak or stick.
Over the last few days, the dreams had been growing stronger, the memory of them staying with him longer after each awakening. But none had been as striking as these. His stomach churned as he gulped the fresh night air trying to rein in the panic, to dispel the disquiet; fear and an aching longing made it near impossible.
Jim dropped to the porch swing, idly kicking a leg as he settled, his forehead resting on the chain once he got a soothing rocking motion started. His neck prickled as shades assailed his waking thoughts and he started up, eyes darting around.
He had no idea what the dreams meant, why they’d changed, why they were so much more powerful, why he was sitting on his mother’s back porch and yet he felt like he was still running, still being pursued. He wasn’t fool enough to deny that the dreams centered around Bones; the connection was too strong between them for all that he’d been in denial about it. But Jim refused to believe that Bones was in danger. He’d experienced just what Bones could do; he’d been carried like a child, pinned to a wall like a butterfly, the immortal not even straining. And he’d never forget, not as long as he lived, the image of Bones sweeping into that cavern, tearing through Nero’s vampires like they were made of tissue paper to get to Jim.
Jim tried to settle again, tried to get the porch swing rocking at that perfect speed, but his leg was twitching, kept breaking the rhythm. Bolting off the swing, he rushed down the steps and careened into the wheat field, his bare feet slapping against the tilled earth. He ran until his lungs burned, until the endorphins chased away the specters, the faces of all those he’d betrayed, Bones only the latest in a long line.
He tripped over a rake handle, took a tumble, rolled with long practice and ended up flat on his back staring at the wide sky, the moon serenely unaware of his turmoil.
And as much as he had tried to outrun them, the most painful of the dreams resurfaced; those easy, comfortable moments with Bones, when he’d gained insights into his lover, learned the quirky details that made Bones all the more precious. They were stretched out on the sofa, Jim’s back pressed to Bones’ chest, the light, drenching rain keeping them housebound, its constant beat lulling against the French doors. They’d read, watched movies, simply spent time in each other’s company, an easy companionship that he’d only ever shared with Gaila.
Jim made an idle comment about a news story, couldn’t even recall what it was, something about Atlanta’s history and Bones stilled, grew quiet in the way that Jim had learned meant that he was warring with himself, fighting long honed instinct of keeping his silence. Jim’s heart raced, but he didn’t turn to look at Bones.
Bones’ voice was barely above a whisper and Jim strained to hear, holding his breath so that he didn’t miss a word. Jim had been stunned at first, never considered how old his lover was, but Bones had been a young man during the Civil War, trained to be a doctor like his father, both “joining” the Confederate Army.
Bones’ father, David McCoy, fought valiantly for every life, he always had, and lost his own because of that stubborn streak. Sherman burned Atlanta, killing his mother and younger sister; Bones had lost everything, nearly lost his life to a Yankee bullet in the process. Mad with grief and pain, a wounded Bones barely made it to his grandmother’s isolated cabin, collapsing on her stoop.
He died that night; his grandmother’s drawn face was the last sight he remembered even as the smell of blood and ash choked him.
And Jim was suddenly there, thrust into the past, reliving Bones’ hell. One moment he was grief-stricken and dying, his last breaths wheezing from tired lungs, the next he awoke to a burning hunger, drew sweet air into suddenly strong lungs, felt his heart bursting with vigor, and his eyes pierced the inky blackness of the unlit cottage. Every detail, even the skritching of insects in the larder, was as clear as brightest noon and loud as a trumpet blast.
Jim curled into a ball, whimpering as the vision -- this was no mere dream -- assailed him. He fought the images, cried out and tore his eyes open. He was panting, his cheeks wet, hands fisted in the loamy soil, swaying wheat surrounding him not a rustic cabin.
He feared this was too much, more than he could bear. Bones’ grief and guilt was as real as his own, the burden that his lover carried drove Jim to his back, stole the air from his lungs and wrenched a harsh sob from his throat. He was left blinking at the blank sky, the moon already set.
Jim stumbled to his feet, staggered back to the house and collapsed onto the porch swing. He couldn’t function like this, on no sleep, these night phantasms destroying his sanity. He needed Bones more than ever and his heart quelled when he realized he might have sabotaged his chance by running.
But there was more than a century of living separating them, and Jim never did learn just what Bones was still keeping from him.
Jim must have dozed off because the sun had risen when a cool palm pressed to his forehead woke him. “Jim?”
He blinked sleepily up into Winona’s face. Her brows were creased with worry and her eyes too knowing.
“I’m okay, Mom,” he started, his voice cracking, the look in Winona’s eyes silencing him.
“You’re not. What happened, Jim?”
He straightened, sent the swing swaying as he looked down at himself. His sleep pants were torn and littered with mud and grass stains; his t-shirt was no better and his hands were still encrusted with mud. Still too sleep-addled, he answered her immediately, “I couldn’t sleep. Had some pretty intense dreams.”
When he closed his eyes to hide from her worry, he felt the visions trying to claim him again and his eyes snapped open.
“Doesn’t look like dreams.”
“Nightmares, whatever.” He shrugged, tried to will away the unease crawling up his spine.
“Jim.”
“Mom. Don’t. It was just a nightmare,” he snapped.
Winona sighed, the small exhale making him feel guilty.
Jim relented and took her hand. “Sorry.”
“You wanted to go with them, didn’t you? But you stayed for me.” She said it with a deep sadness that made Jim hurt. “I never meant to keep you from doing what you need to do.”
“It’s not…” he stopped and they shifted until he rested his head on Winona’s shoulder. It was still the perfect place for him to unburden himself.
“Oh, baby.” She wrapped him up, her smell and warmth so familiar, comforting. He felt almost safe. “They’re not long gone. I’m sure they’d return for you.”
He swallowed and shook his head, too close to telling her everything.
“Jim?”
Her voice carried that tone and he closed his eyes, kept his head on her shoulder.
“Jim, look at me.”
And he did. He shouldn’t have. For all that Gaila always knew exactly what he’d done, Winona could read his mind. And heart.
“Oh, Jim.” She linked their fingers and gave him a weak smile. “You first looked like that when you were six. That damned cat!” she exhaled, cursing even as she was smiling at him from moist eyes. “And then there was--”
“Spike,” he finished.
“That dog was dumber than dirt!” she laughed. “Then Midnight.” He leaned into the warm hand carding through his hair. “That crazy horse was the last time I saw that exact pout on your face. This isn’t about the team, is it, Jim? This is about Leonard.”
He couldn’t deny it, his earlier whispered confession of intense longing had laid the foundation and now she saw the truth in his eyes.
“If he’s worth it, worthy, he’ll forgive you. But you have to talk to him and that means using your words.”
“It’s… complicated.”
“When isn’t it?” Winona patted his hand. “The question is: what are you going to do about it?”
“Winona?” Chris called from the kitchen.
She leaned over, kissed Jim’s nose, her eyes hopeful. “Chris is making blueberry pancakes. Go cleanup before breakfast and think about it. I know you’ll figure it out in the end. You always do.”
Her confidence in Jim felt unwarranted, but he smiled at her as she walked into the kitchen, the happy noises Chris made in greeting made Jim’s heart ache. He missed Bones so fucking much!
What was he going to do about it?
The day passed quietly with Jim trying to ignore the flickering apprehension at the base of his spine all while appearing at ease enough to convince Winona and Chris to keep their plans. The last thing he wanted was to come between them. Besides, Jim still hadn’t made headway on his decision. He didn’t know what to do, really, and was looking forward to sprawling on the sofa, watching baseball and drinking beer.
“If you’re sure, Jim?”
“Mom. I’m fine.” He met Chris’ eyes. “You guys go. Shoo!” He waved them toward the door.
“Have fun, son.” Chris was gently urging Winona out the door.
“You have my cell number?”
“Mom! I’m not ten. Go. I’ll probably be right here when you get back.” He chuckled and grabbed the remote, resolutely refusing to look at his mother again.
“Bye, sweetie. I love you.” Winona hadn’t left. She dropped a kiss to his forehead, making him blush, before she left.
“Love you, too, Mom.” He was still smiling as they drove away.
The baseball game was so dull, the poor Cubbies outmatched by the Sox, so Jim flipped channels until he found “The Maltese Falcon” on. He stretched out on the sofa and was soon so engrossed, he didn’t notice the last rays of the sun, or the crunch of gravel under tires.
The doorbell pulled Jim’s eyes from the television and he frowned, pausing the DVR as he stood. He stretched and called out, “Coming! I’m coming!”
So he was barefoot, wearing baggy gym shorts and a ratty old t-shirt, his hair mussed and wild, matching the two-day scruff he was sporting, when he opened the door.
To find Bones standing there, a young girl holding his hand.
Jim stared, gaped really, and didn’t say a word. He couldn’t, his mouth was dry and his throat closed around a weak gasp, his mind an empty slate. He felt dizzy and clung to the doorknob, the cool metal the only thing convincing him that he hadn’t drifted off to sleep once again, that this was no dream.
“Jim? Can we come in?”
That voice made his knees weak and he stepped back, his head nodding slowly even as his eyes drank Bones in.
Bones walked into the living room, the child clutching his hand tightly and looking at Jim with big, hazel eyes. Eyes like Bones’.
“Daddy?” she whispered up at Bones while keeping her eyes on Jim.
Her voice was tremulous and Jim knew he must be scaring the crap out of the girl. “Oh! Da-drat. Sorry.” He offered up his best smile and stuck out his hand.
“Jim Kirk.”
The girl looked up at Bones whose brilliant, gentle smile melted Jim’s reservations. “Joanna, this is my friend, James T. Kirk. We talked about him, remember?”
She ignored Jim’s outstretched hand and looked up at Bones. “I remember, Daddy.”
When she turned back to Jim, her eyes were too shrewd and assessing and made Jim pale for a moment and he hastily dropped his hand. Whatever happened, he’d have to work hard to convince Joanna that he wasn’t the enemy.
“I’m Joanna McCoy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Kirk.” Joanna nodded at Jim before looking back up at her dad. “I did it like we practiced so now do I get an iPod?”
“Joanna Elizabeth McCoy!”
Jim chuckled despite his world being turned upside down. “Hold out for the iPad, kiddo.”
“Jim!”
“Ummm,” Jim rubbed at the back of his neck, completely at a loss for what to do or say. “I’m not… don’t know how to do this… Bones?”
“Jim, it’s late. We need to get going.”
“Going? You just got here.”
“We drove straight through and Joanna needs a good night’s sleep. I’m not going far. I saw a hotel as we got off the highway.”
“Oh. We have a couple of extra bedrooms. You could stay?” He hated how hopeful he sounded, but he couldn’t, didn’t want to let Bones out of his sight again, even if he had no clue what the hell he was doing.
Bones hesitated, unsure for the first time that Jim had ever seen. He frowned, seemed close to agreeing, when Joanna nudged him. He leaned down and she whispered in his ear.
“Sure, sweetpea.”
He straightened and looked at Jim, shrugging as he said, “It was a long drive, and we didn’t stop after lunch.”
Jim looked at him, confused.
“Joanna had two large sodas, Jim.”
“Oh? Oh.” Jim scrubbed at the back of his neck and pointed down the hallway. “Under the stairs, second door, you can’t miss it.”
Joanna tugged Bones with her and he followed, Jim left staring after.
The next instant Bones was back, so close his breath was brushing Jim’s neck and Jim shivered. “Bones,” he murmured. Strong hands turned him and he was staring into Bones’ eyes. They’d gone dark, the pupil wide, and Jim couldn’t move, simply waited for whatever was to come. He knew he should be asking questions, figuring out why Bones had a daughter.
Bones leaned closer and Jim shook his head, found the strength to press his fingertips to Bones’ lips. A slow boiling anger was simmering and Jim gave it free rein, used its power to pull away. Bones was too distracting, but they had to talk. Jim had been feeling guilty, but he’d been the one played. He narrowed eyes at Bones and said, as calmly as he could manage, “We’re talking about this, about us, and about her.”
Bones nodded, slowly, his shoulders slumping. “But not now, not with Jo-Jo here.”
Joanna’s humming silenced his agreement, but Bones saw it as Jim stepped back, putting much needed space between them.
Joanna grinned at Jim, but her eyes were still cold. She took her dad’s hand and looked at him, so sweetly innocent Jim couldn’t reconcile the two. “Can we go, Daddy? I’m tired and Mister Scott’s starving.”
“Scotty’s always starving, baby doll.”
“Sure, but you promised me we’d stay somewhere with a pool.”
Jim watched as Bones caved, wrapped around his daughter’s pinky. “Alright. We can stay at that hotel downtown I told you about.”
“Yeah!” She clapped her hands and looked her age, taking away the knot at the base of Jim’s spine.
“Go get in the car, I’ll be there in a sec.”
Joanna leapt for the door, but before she burst out of it, she turned and pinned Jim with that unnerving gaze. “It was a pleasure, Mister Kirk.”
Jim swallowed nervously. Her words were sweet but her eyes made it clear she thought he was beneath contempt. Whatever Jim had done to earn her wrath, he now deeply regretted it.
Bones was suddenly in Jim’s space, a cool hand tilting his chin up. “Don’t mind her, Jim. Things have been hard these last few weeks and me showing up angry and desperate didn’t help matters.”
“W-w-what?” Jim tried to hold onto his anger or at least his confusion, but Bones was so close, his palm cool on Jim’s cheek as his thumb dragged over Jim’s lips, and Jim’s thoughts went spiraling far from Joanna McCoy.
“You’ve been chewing on your bottom lip again, darlin’.”
Jim’s heart stuttered, then his pulse skyrocketed and his breathing stopped, eyes locking on Bones’. He froze, time slowing as Bones moved, pressing their lips together. Someone whimpered. Jim would deny that it was him, but the moment shattered and they were wrapped tightly together, lips fusing as Bones tried to devour him while Jim tried to crawl into Bones.
A harsh cry rent the room and Bones wrenched himself away, his back pressing against the doorjamb. He looked utterly wrecked, flushed, hair wild, and eyes flaring from green to amber, flashing hotly, but so fucking gorgeous Jim forgot all his fury.
Bones wavered, then shot out the door, his soft, “I’ll be back,” silencing Jim’s protest with the banging of the screen.
Jim dropped onto the sofa, his whole body trembling from the onslaught of emotions, guilt, anger, lust, and no little trepidation all tangled up inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. He’d already lost it and given in to Bones, would have let him take him right there on the floor.
’Shit!’
He was so fucked.
The distance allowed him to regain some control over his traitorous body, but he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to keep it when Bones returned. He needed to calm down, needed some release. Unfortunately, a shot of vodka did nothing to still the sparking nerves racing down his spine.
A hasty wank and a cold shower took the edge off, but the imagined, or real, lusty purr skating on the edge of awareness sent his pulse racing once again. He paced as he waited, made coffee, channel surfed, and let his restlessness morph into annoyance and, finally, outright fury. He’d been played, lied to, and he was going to know why.
Bones’ movements were silent, but Jim had been hyper aware of him from the first. He shot up as Bones closed the door and rounded on his lover, letting the full force of his pent up anger loose.
“What the fuck? You have a daughter? And didn’t bother mentioning her? What the hell else have you kept from me? A wife?”
Jim shoved Bones against the wall, hissing at him, “I gave up everything and you lied to me!”
Bones let himself be pushed. He kept his hands at his side, but his eyes flashed hard and hot as he licked his lips and inhaled.
Jim jerked back, suddenly breathless. “Goddammit! Just fuckin’ stop it already! I’m not one of your conquests and I’m sure as hell not your mistress!”
He was panting as he retreated from Bones’ gaze, grumbling as he took a step toward the living room.
But he’d forgotten about vampire speed and Bones was on him before he got through the doorway, propelling him forward. He was flipped and landed on the sofa flat on his back, Bones above him, all air knocked from him. Fighting was futile, but he struggled nonetheless. Bones nipped at his neck, voice rumbling, “I never once mistook you for dinner.”
Cool breath blew past Jim’s ear, making him shudder. He tried to wrench out of Bones grip, but he was well and truly pinned, wrists over his head, groin aligned with Bones’, calves caught and held.
He kept his face turned and eyes closed. He had to hold onto his fury or he’d cave, give in and never get his answers.
Gentle fingers turned his face and soft lips pressed chastely against his own. He moaned through parted lips, wanted more, the anger already draining away. His eyes shot open and he met blazing gold-green.
“You’re no conquest, Jim. I did keep Joanna from you, but I never lied. But you did, didn’t you, darlin’? Still are, aren’t you?”
The voice, that voice -- bourbon soaked, honey sweet, and rough, lust drenched and dark -- carried the promise of sweet release, of infinite pleasure, but held undertones of pain-laced fury and vengeance. And Jim was its helpless thrall, Bones’ willing slave, though he fought that feeling with every ounce of impotent strength he had.
He was no match for Bones’ power, for his will, and Jim’s body betrayed him, arching into his groin, leaning into the cool palm holding his chin.
Jim’s nostrils flared. He’d forgotten just how enticing Bones’ scent was. He’d too easily forgotten how intensely he’d been drawn to everything about Bones, and now that Bones was near, the false clarity was swamped and subsumed. A surfeit of sensation overloaded him and he sagged, drank it all in, nodding helplessly. Anything. He’d give this man… this vampire anything and everything.
“Yes, I lied, damn you!” he spat, but couldn’t muster any emotion but resignation to back up the hard words. “I won’t apologize for trying to save myself!”
Bones snapped back as though Jim had slapped him. He sat back on his haunches, freeing Jim’s hands, his eyes wide. Jim just laid there, harsh breaths puffing in and out of his nose as he tried to look defiant, but expected he was lucky to look anything more than debauched.
“Save yourself? What the fuck, Jim? I’d never--”
“No. Right. Nevermind. I was talking out my ass, just… forget it.”
“Jim?” Bones eyes softened, turning a verdant green, his brows drawn together in confusion and all Jim could think of was kissing that little furrow. “Are you afraid of me?”
Jim huffed out a soft breath, his heart fluttering in his chest. He wanted to tell Bones the truth; how much he hated the guys Bones fed on; how, with each one, he was terrified that Bones would find someone else, how he couldn’t live without the vampire, and the last thing he could ever be was afraid of Bones. But the words were locked inside.
Instead he shook his head and answered with a deflection. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me, but what about your vampire buddies? I know when I’m being stalked, Bones.”
Bones swallowed, his eyes narrowing, the fire that simmered in his eyes blazing cold and menacing. “None of them would dare.” His voice was low, a bare whisper, but the fury and threat it carried made Jim tremble.
Jim laughed to hide the way his body shivered. “Tell that to whatever asshole has been making my nights hell.” He pushed up to his elbows and nudged Bones with a knee. “Let me up.”
Bones hesitated, but then stood and loomed over Jim, offering an outstretched hand. Jim ignored it and sat up with as much of his tattered dignity as he had left. He tucked himself into the corner of the sofa, wrapped his arms around his knees and glared at Bones who at least had the good grace to look abashed, though the fire in his eyes hadn’t abated. Jim could feel his cold fury, but it wasn’t directed at him.
“Sit down, dammit! I don’t need a crick in my neck along with every other goddamned bruise.”
Bones sat, restrained power and coiled fury radiating off of him in waves.
“I thought it was you. At first. And the dreams had to be. I never remembered them, but I woke up every morning hard as nails and aching. Hell, some mornings, I came in my sleep.” He chuckled bitterly. “That sucked the most. Getting to come but not remembering a damned thing.” He glared at Bones. “You did that, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean to, but you…” he ducked his head before continuing. “Your scent… the memory of you was everywhere and yet I couldn’t have you, taste you, touch you. I was ravenous, angry. Went to a different type of club, took everything on offer, but nothing satisfied the hunger.” He sounded almost regretful, and Jim wondered what, exactly, he’d done.
“And then… it was just after dawn and there was a stranger in our bed and somehow you reached out and snared me.” He blew out a soft breath. “I felt your heartbeat and grabbed hold and never let go, pleasuring you in my mind. Reliving our time together. I’m sorry. I had no right to force that on you.”
Jim blinked and shook his head, trying to piece events together instead of dwelling on a stranger being in his place. “How’d you get here?”
Bones looked confused at the non sequitur.
“Bones, how did you get to Iowa?”
“We flew?”
“And from Seville?”
“Jim,” he protested.
“When did you leave Seville?”
“It took a couple of days after you left. Gran’s jet was occupied so I had to wait.”
“And then you went where?”
“To Georgia. Jim, what does this--”
“The nightmares. They didn’t start up until after you’d arrived back in Georgia. Before that all my dreams were intense, sexual, and all you. Believe me, I know the difference. But lately, I’ve spent the whole night running. Someone’s chasing me, luckily I wake up before I find out who, but I’m sure it’s a vampire, Bones.”
“That goddamned, no account, bastard!”
Jim jumped when Bones leapt up, his furious shout making Jim’s skin crawl. Jim had never seen Bones like this. The savagery pulsing from him was nearly pressing Jim back into the sofa with the force of it. He dragged himself up, instinctually knowing he needed to calm Bones and his touch had always had that effect.
“Who, Bones?” he murmured as he stopped Bones in his tracks, pressed their bodies close, baring his neck in silent offering.
“Clay!” Bones snarled, but he wasn’t moving and his arms had lifted to pull Jim to him, his eyes focused on Jim’s speeding pulse.
Jim kept still, felt Bones’ fury shoved aside, ignored for the time being. He knew what was coming.
Or he’d believed he’d known. But he’d been kept apart, sheltered, no vampire daring to approach him. Clay had crossed some inviolable line and Bones was ready to tear the other vampire apart, Jim’s offering the only thing stopping him.
Bones vibrated with tension, a soft, whimpered moan slipping from his lips as he dragged his fangs along Jim’s throat.
Jim gasped. Bones was always so in control, completely aware and restrained, but those elongated fangs hovering over his pulse let Jim know that this time was different. And dangerous.
He opened his eyes and saw Bones’ glint wickedly, more amber than green in the backlight from the television. The ’Mine’ made his pulse race as one fang pricked him. The sharp pain was gone before it registered, but the single drop of blood was the last straw, breaking Bones’ reason.
Bones flung him across the room. He saw stars as his head connected with the sofa’s edge, the couch creaking precariously as Bones leapt on him. Bones softened at Jim’s outcry and he gentled his touch, cupping Jim’s head while he caught his breath. The vampire never stopped, hurriedly stripping off Jim’s clothes, whispering apologies into Jim’s skin for the shredded garments.
Everything was a blur and Jim was still seeing stars when it registered that he was flat on his back, naked and achingly hard, a hungry vampire equally naked and pressing him into the cushions. Jim spread his legs and writhed, welcoming the onslaught.
Their cocks touched and the conflagration in Jim’s blood caught and turned into an inferno. Jim reached up and pulled Bones down, meeting their mouths in desperation. He wanted to crawl into the vampire’s mouth, never be parted. Bones apparently agreed as he focused everything onto their sealed lips, his tongue demanding as he laid waste to any reserves Jim might have thought he held.
Bones swept in, his tongue fucking Jim’s mouth until Jim’s head swam. When he tried to pull away, or push Bones up, his lover’s eyes flew open, a little gasp of fear escaping into Bones’ mouth. In all the time they’d been together, and for all the heights he’d driven Bones to, he’d never seen him so feral. Jim wasn’t sure whether to revel in the power he held or to be afraid.
His indecision made Bones falter and he relaxed his hold just enough that Jim wrenched away. “I want you to fuck me, goddammit, not suffocate me!”
“Not into breathplay, sugar?” Bones drawled. His smile was a little sheepish, his eyes still glinting more gold than green, but the headlong rush slowed with that purposeful drawl. Jim licked his lips. He’d always been a sucker for that voice, the slow, drawn out vowels turned Jim’s spine to liquid.
“Only if it’s with my cock shoved down your throat… darlin’,” he answered, breathing in through his nose as he got the desired reaction. In two heartbeats, Bones was on his knees, fangs scraping up Jim’s thigh, destination clear. For the first time, Jim wondered if provoking an angry vampire was a wise thing to do, but Bones caught his eye as he swallowed Jim’s cock to the root and Jim cried out, forgetting everything but the cool confines surrounding him.
Jim was caught, torn between needing to see, to watch as Bones took him in, and wanting to lose himself in the heady sensation. A vampire’s stamina meant that Bones was very good at this. That his lover took great delight in Jim’s pleasure only added to the experience. Jim gave himself up to it, leaned back and let Bones take what he wanted.
Apparently, what he wanted was to drive Jim mad.
Jim was so close, he reached down and curled his hand around one of Bones’ ears, shifting his hips just so and then Bones hummed and his throat undulated around the head of Jim’s cock and Jim stiffened, was coming, goddammit! when Bones pressed tightly to the base of his dick, shutting him down.
“Fuck!” Jim swore and tried to buck up deeper into the wet depths, but he was pinned, held down, even as Bones taunted him by alternating tight suction with loose tonguing along his shaft. “Let me come, you evil bastard!”
The resulting chuckle made his cock pulse and the devilish glance from under lowered lashes sent heat racing down his spine. But Bones ignored him. He slid off, ever so slowly, teasing with his tongue and a final soft drag of his teeth before releasing the head.
Jim flopped back to the sofa his breath leaving in one great exclamation, “Cocksucker!”
Bones’ smirk sent a shudder running down to Jim’s toes.
“You got a problem, darlin’?” The promise, the dark intent, and the completely sinful and debased way Bones drawled those syllables had Jim near coming apart.
He groaned and bit back a needy whimper. “Quit teasing and fuck me already!”
“Begging? So soon? What happened to your stamina, sweetheart?” Bones gave him a feral grin, his fangs glinting in the light. “You see, baby,” Bones purred as slick fingers teased Jim’s balls and lower, making him start.
’Where the hell did Bones get lube? Fucking vampire!’
“I’ve just gotten started. I’ve been planning this for awhile and if we’re doing this now, I’m going to take my time.” Bones pressed a finger in, its cool slide making Jim moan. “I’m going to take it slow…” he drew out the last word, his voice dropping into a breathy whisper as he crooked his finger and made Jim see stars. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through, what it was like to sleep next to you, to hold you, to have the memory of your blood thrumming through my veins and know I shouldn’t have you.”
Jim whimpered as Bones set a steady rhythm on his prostate. It was too much, but not enough, and Jim writhed, bore down, bit his lip against pleading, Bones’ husky words almost pushing him over the edge.
“I knew. From the first drop of your blood. It was intoxicating as nothing else.”
The bastard was trying to tell Jim something while he pressed in another finger. Jim hoped he didn’t expect a response because all he managed was something garbled and incoherent.
Bones’ fingers drove him higher, pushed him just to the edge and held him there, caught. “F-f-fuck me, dammit!” Jim screamed and reached for Bones, scrabbling to pull him down. Bones’ eyes glowed like hellfire, but the kiss was heaven-sent. Perfect. Jim opened and Bones took, kept kissing as he shifted, his fingers replaced with something larger, harder. Bones swallowed his whimper of protest, gave him no quarter as he slid all the way home.
Bones growled low in his chest. He lifted his mouth, freeing Jim’s inarticulate cry as he thrust. He embraced Jim and lifted him and all Jim could do was wrap his legs around Bones’ thighs and hold on. They turned and Jim gasped as he was impaled further, Bones’ cock nudging his prostate as he leaned forward. Sweeping the coffee table’s contents to the floor, Bones laid Jim out on it.
Jim felt like an offering on some ancient altar, his heart hammering in his chest, his whole body thrumming with each beat. Bones’ eyes, his lips, the way his hands were stroking and worshiping Jim sent him reeling. Something momentous was happening and he refused to be a passive participant. He pulled Bones up to him, demanded a kiss, then forced the vampire’s head to turn aside so that he could whisper against his neck, “Take me hard, feed from me, prove that I’m different than all the rest. Show me that I’m your mate and no other.”
Bones’ ravenous, almost tortured shout lanced Jim’s spine, fire racing to his toes. He could only watch as Bones reared back, every sinew in stark relief as a visible shudder ran through the vampire’s tensed muscles.
“Jim?” he breathed out, that one word filled with so many questions.
Jim only nodded, answering the obvious by tilting his head and bearing down on the hard flesh splitting him open.
His consent broke the barrier holding Bones back, inflaming him. He ducked his head to the long column of his neck, inhaled deeply and sucked, but his fangs were sheathed and Jim protested. Bones kept moving, lips sliding, tasting, teasing as he thrust shallowly.
Jim grew restless and gripped Bones’ ass, grinding up with the next push. Bones faltered, then with a grunt, he shifted, his butt clenching as his hips danced. Jim whined and his cock throbbed, and he watched Bones, met glowing eyes as Bones dragged his fangs along Jim’s skin, the barest brush of his canines, not slicing skin, but lighting sparks in their wake. His body was alight, every pore, every atom attuned to Bones, poised on the precipice.
Bones thrust and bit down over his nipple at once and bright white pleasure-pain shot through Jim, searing his nerves. He cried out, hands slid up Bones’ back, pulling him closer, his body tingling as his life blood pulsed into Bones. It was too much sensation, an overload as clarity and complete union swamped him. He felt the draw slow and cried out, holding the vampire to his chest. He was on the crest of his orgasm, riding the wave ever higher until he shattered, white and crimson exploding behind his eyelids.
He was trembling, his teeth chattered as he regained awareness, eyes flicking to meet Bones’. The vampire teased his nipple, lapping tenderly at the two puncture marks above it, a single drop of blood at the corner of his lips. The dusky flush of his skin and the completely mischievous smirk he wore as his tongue flicked out to catch the last drop combined with the solid flesh buried in his ass made Jim groan.
He felt sated, debauched and languid, lethargy claiming his limbs, but Bones wasn’t done with him, and he was unsure if he was grateful for that or not. With his fangs still extended and eyes boring into Jim’s, Bones tilted his head down, blood-warm breath brushing over Jim’s other nipple. Jim’s cry died in his throat as he was assailed, pierced at both ends, hard thrusts and pinpricks of pain spearing him, holding him on the knife’s edge. Too long, too much, too intense… he clutched at Bones, held his lover tight even as a spike of real fear that he couldn’t handle this twisted his spine.
Memory sense and perfect clarity returned, he was claimed and claimant, driving in and split wide. He knew everything in that instant, Bones kept nothing from him. The onslaught was almost too much, and their mutual orgasm tore through him, stealing conscious thought as he eagerly gave in to the sweeping tide.
Jim was vaguely aware of protesting weakly as Bones lifted him up, settling them on the sofa with a soft shushing noise. Jim thought there was something that he was forgetting, that it was probably important, but Bones kissed him, murmured against Jim’s neck, and the siren call of sleep, the comfort of being in Bones’ arms once again, was too strong to refuse.
Jim was an idiot who should have known better.
Sadly, should haves didn’t help when Winona and Chris arrived home and were confronted with Jim, naked as the day he was born, sprawled out on their sofa over an equally nude Leonard. They helped even less when Jim jumped up and looked about the room, eyes scanning for a suitable covering, widening as he realized the mess they’d created: the knocked over lamp, the tipped chair, the scattered books, clothes strewn wildly, and what Winona and Chris must think.
Jim’s ’Oh, shit!’ moment went from bad to worse when Bones sat up, a scrap of Jim’s torn t-shirt covering his groin, and he smiled, sated and drowsy, wrecked, and so fucking edible Jim almost forgot his predicament. Unfortunately, his mom was not equally blinded and neither was Chris. If the telltale bites over his nipples and the scrapes and bruises littering Jim’s torso weren’t enough, Bones’ fangs and preternatural eyes were all the condemnation they needed. ’Vampire.’
Then all hell broke loose.
For a man with three pins in his vertebra, Chris Pike could still move damned fast. Before Jim had found the nearest pair of jeans – not his – Chris was armed, silver-bright Glock in his right, rustic carved stake in his left, and standing in front of Winona.
“Step aside, son,” Chris commanded, his voice ice-cold steel.
Jim straightened, shoving the other leg into his jeans. “What! No!” he shouted, stepping in front of Chris.
“Jim! What the hell?” Chris shot a look over his shoulder at Winona, barked out a harsh, “Enthralled,” before turning, his hand already raised.
Time slowed and Jim watched every muscle, every movement, knew exactly what was coming as adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he was powerless to stop it, too slow and far too human. The Glock came crashing down on his temple, sent him flailing, stars stealing his sight. He kicked out, praying he’d toppled Chris even as an enraged Bones flew past him. Then there was screaming, most of it was probably Jim though he couldn’t be sure. He staggered, windmilling his arms, pleading for the chaos to end. It did.
With a single, loud report.
Bones’ cry made Jim freeze in the echoing stillness. Chris and Winona were both crack shots at a distance. Neither missed at point blank range.
“Bones!” Jim cried, shaking his head to clear his vision.
Black spots danced across the tableau before him. Winona held her gun, still pointed at Bones’ heart and Bones lay crumpled against the wall, Chris on his ass, leaning against the sofa.
There was blood, too much blood.
“No! Oh, god, no!” Jim’s anguished cry shattered the silence as he fell to his knees at Bones’ side, terror stealing his breath.
“Bones! Bones!” Jim didn’t realize he was crying, sobbing, pleading, but he moved Bones gently, cradled him in his arms and stroked his face. “Leonard, please? Please don’t die on me. Don’t do this to me. I’m sorry.” Bones was too still, unresponsive and Jim leaned down to kiss his lips. “Bones, I can’t live without you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Please don’t leave me!” Hot tears splashed on his lover’s cheeks.
“Jim?” Winona touched his shoulder, but Jim couldn’t take his eyes from Bones’ face, his eyes were closed, long dark lashes brushing his cheekbones. He could be sleeping except for the blood.
“Baby? He is the one? Is this Leonard?” Jim nodded, his breath stuttering. This couldn’t be happening, had to be another nightmare.
“Jim, the bullet was silver. Let me get it out.” Winona shook him gently, then forced his chin up. “Jim, he could still make it. Let us help.”
Jim must have agreed because Chris scooted to Winona’s side and they took Bones from his arms. They laid him out on the floor, Winona racing away and back in the blink of an eye. Jim couldn’t keep track of what they were doing, he was too caught up in the profound emptiness in his head and heart. But they hovered over Bones, their words indistinct, lost in the roaring in Jim’s ears.
There was a Bones’ shaped void within him and he was being sucked into it.
He drifted, half aware, some small spark of reason warning against sleep. Concussion was the word, but there was no reason to stay awake, no reason for anything. Not with Bones gone. Who knew silence could be so loud?
Jim gave into the pull of sleep, praying he’d never wake.