Title: In the Shadow
Author: Caera1996
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Rating: NC-17
WC: 6,139
Summary: I volunteered to "pinch hit" – written for a bidder from help_chile. The bidder asked for, "Basically Bones is kidnapped by Mirror!Kirk; some non con for McCoy and some rimming when Bones is safe in Kirk's arms again. And lots of 'I almost lost you, don't ever scare me like this again' TLC and comfort sex. Bonus points if Kirk and Bones are already married.

Engineer Scott worked the controls, distressed at what he was seeing, but not wanting to show that. He was extremely aware of Spock's presence behind him, and did what he could to ignore it. It wouldn't do to screw a simple transport up. Even if it did put Spock in command, Scott knew he'd be killed anyway. As an example.

But there was something wrong. There was another signal…additional mass. He had no idea where it came from. He cursed under his breath. There was a choice here. Materialize it, or let it go. Not a choice he was willing to make. Not a decision he was willing to take the fall for.

"Commander Spock – there's an issue here," Scott said, keeping his voice uninterested. Spock didn't move from where he stood, or shift in any way.

"Elaborate." Quickly, Scott outlined the situation as he knew it. He couldn't hold the patterns much longer without risking all of them. After a moment's silence, Spock moved to stand directly in front of the transporter pad, phaser in hand. "Allow materialization."

Kirk and McCoy were immediately recognizable, and they materialized first, Kirk coolly raising an eyebrow at the phaser pointed in their direction. Beside him, McCoy tensed and growled under his breath. Just as he was opening his mouth to say something to Spock, the additional pattern began to coalesce.

The face and body that joined them on the transporter pad was at once familiar and strange. Kirk looked almost excited. McCoy looked dispassionate, his eyes locking on to the other's, and he felt nothing but contempt for the shock that quickly shifted to fear in their familiar depths. Sneering at the other's obvious weakness, there was no chance for either of them to speak before a beam from Spock's phaser hit the other square in the chest.

He crumpled immediately, hitting the transporter pad hard, knees first.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured. The Doctor crouched down beside the inert body. Kirk made his way off the pad, moving to stand directly in front of Spock, hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

"Is it dead?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the Vulcan's.

"No," McCoy replied. "Just stunned."

Kirk's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Stunned?" he repeated, addressing Spock who remained, typically, stoically impassive.

"When I realized who the additional being was, I switched to stun," Spock said, answering the unspoken question.

"How…fortunate," Kirk said, his voice just enough to be heard by everyone in the room. Spock raised an eyebrow, holding Kirk's eyes. If he were anyone but this Vulcan, they'd be punished for their insolence. Spock, Kirk knew, wasn't capable of insolence. Shifting just his eyes, he focused on Mr. Scott who, although not hiding behind the console, was doing nothing to draw any attention to himself. "What is it, Mr. Scott?"

"Sir, it appears to be an exact copy of Dr. McCoy," Scott answered, studying his console. The patterns matched. "I don't know where it came from," he admitted. Behind him, McCoy snorted derisively.

"An exact DNA sequence copy only," he said. "He's nothing like me. Not even his uniform." Spock continued to hold Kirk's eyes, unwilling to be the first to turn away in this situation.

"And what gives you the right, Mr. Scott," Kirk said quietly, dangerously. "To make the decision to allow something of indeterminate origin to beam aboard my ship?"

"On Spock's say so, Sir," he immediately replied. Kirk's lip curled slightly at that. Spock still had not moved an inch and continued to hold Kirk's cold gaze.

"Report to the Bridge, Spock," Kirk said after another minute. "I want to see to our…guest's… accommodations."

"Sir," Spock replied, turning and leaving the transporter room without another glance. Kirk focused his gaze on the engineer.

"Mr. Scott – I want to know how this happened."

"Sir…I need to go through the data codes individually-"

"You have until 1600," Kirk interrupted. Scott did his best to remain completely impassive. That wasn't even 30 minutes. He already knew it wasn't enough time. Kirk knew it, too.

"Aye, Sir."

"McCoy – make our guest comfortable. I want to know all about him."

"What happened?" Jim asked, moving quickly off the transporter pad as he realized he came back alone. No, god, please no. "Did everyone else get back okay?"

"I – I don't… Yes. You and Dr. McCoy were the last two." Scotty went from one console to the other, desperately trying to make sense of something that just didn't.

"Scotty, what happened? Where is he?" Jim repeated, coming up beside him, desperation edging its way into his voice.

"It – it's like his pattern was snatched by another receiver," Scotty said, sitting back and running his hands over his head agitatedly.

"Is he okay?" Jim asked. "Scotty, please…tell me he's okay." Scotty took a deep breath and focused on his instrumentation. The answers were here…he just had to focus enough to understand them. Pushing his panic to the side, trying to ignore the Captain's barely controlled panic, he scanned through the readings on the consol.

"It looks like there was a shift in the electromagnetic radiation spectrum at the time of dematerialization, and it…threw the doctor's pattern off course. As far as I can tell, it's still intact. If I can boost his signal, I can get him back," Scotty said, for the first time allowing himself to look into Jim's eyes.

"Do it. Do whatever it takes," Jim said, eyes roving over the readings, confirming what Scotty had just told him.

"I'm gonna need-"

"You've got it. Whatever you need, Scotty. Just – get him back." Get my husband back.

McCoy came to slowly, his head pounding, indicating that he'd been permitted to regain consciousness on his own as his nervous system recovered from the overload of a phaser stun. Before his brain caught up with him, he tried to shift, and found he couldn't move. Then, the memory of the few seconds before he was hit came rushing back…and with it the confusion, and the fear. He struggled to keep his eyes closed and his breathing even as his heart rate soared. He didn't want to alert anyone to the fact that he was awake.

Resisting the urge to swallow nervously, McCoy strained his other senses. He didn't hear anything…including any telltale beeps from a biobed...that indicated he was in the medbay. He didn't hear anything that indicated there was someone else in the room with him…which didn't mean there wasn't. All it meant was that they didn't want him to know they were there. Which was worse. Because if they were benevolent, why wouldn't they announce themselves?

McCoy suppressed a shudder as he remembered staring into eyes that were, and were not, his own. Spock shot me! What the fuck is going on? he thought to himself. The last thing he was sure of was that he and Jim were transporting up to the ship from a planet at the end of an away mission. And then…what? He was surrounded by people who looked like the officers he knew, but weren't. Including himself.

Suddenly, the automatic cooling system came on with just barely a whisper, and he felt a chill draft of air pass over his body. His naked, uncovered body. Goosebumps raised on his skin at this completely unsettling realization, and he was unable to suppress a shiver.

"Do you honestly think you're fooling anyone?" A gruff voice from somewhere off to his right made him start, and he gasped, unable to process the strangeness…the wrongness…of hearing his voice carry so much contempt, so much malevolence, and still be his voice. Reluctantly, because doing so would make this real and not just some sort of weird hallucinogenic nightmare, McCoy opened his eyes, quickly taking in his surroundings before settling on the other man. "Who are you?" this other version of himself demanded. Trying to contain the shaky fear twisting through his gut, he studied the man who shared his physical features…and nothing else. Willing his voice to be level, he answered.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that you don't already have an answer to that question," McCoy replied.

"Hm. No, I guess not," the other version of the doctor replied. "Damn transporters," he muttered. "Always knew they'd be nothing but trouble." McCoy nodded slightly, in agreement about at least that. He glanced down the length of his exposed body.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked. The other's eyes flashed with cruel amusement as a smirk crawled across his face.

"Captain's privilege. He should be joining us soon," he said, shrugging. McCoy's mouth went dry at that, and he took a shaky breath, surreptitiously pulling against the restraints on his arms and legs, wishing he could at least bring his legs together slightly. As it was, he felt like nothing more than a thing on display – and he did not want to be on display in front of this other Jim. But the straps holding him in place were unyielding. He glanced back over at the other man. He was standing with his arms folded over his chest, head tilted to the side. Studying. Considering.

"How did...where am I?" McCoy asked, desperate for some information to bring order and sense to this bizarre situation. This…wherever he was…looked like the Captain's quarters on board the Enterprise. But, he knew, whatever this was, it was not the Enterprise. He felt that in the core of his being…an innate, primal response to the wrongness of the situation he was in, coupled with the fear for himself, and the fear for Jim. What had happened to Jim? If he was safe on board his own Enterprise, they would get McCoy back. He knew that…held onto it as tightly as he could. But if he had ended up in this murky shadow of his own reality, where had Jim ended up?

He was shivering, he realized, his breath coming in shallow pants that left him lightheaded.

"You're terrified," the other McCoy observed. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "But not just for yourself, are you? Near as I can tell, we're exact genetic replicas of each other. But you…you're nothing like me. So…who, then, would you fear for?" McCoy closed his eyes as the other's eyes roved over him, catching on his left hand, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, then narrowed as he made the connections. "You and the Captain are married?" he sneered. McCoy didn't answer, but opened his eyes, looking up at the other, his jaw set stubbornly. No way was he going to give them any more ammunition. He had no idea where Jim was, but he prayed to whatever God there was on this side that he was no where near here. "Well, isn't that…interesting."

"What's interesting?" Jim's voice – no, the other captain's voice – was suddenly there with them, and McCoy's eyes closed, as if he could hide in the dark, like a child. Footsteps brought him closer, and every muscle in McCoy's exposed body tensed. A hot, humiliated flush worked its way over up his face, and he knew that this Jim, who was not his Jim, was looking down at him. Could feel his gaze crawling over his bare skin. McCoy trembled, his hands balling into fists.

"Apparently, wherever he's from, he and that Captain Kirk are married."

"Really? There's another of me…probably of all of us. That is interesting. So…what should I call you?" McCoy flinched, unable to control himself, when Kirk's hand made contact with the bare skin of his chest. "McCoy would be too confusing…I already have one of those." He pressed his lips together, gritting his teeth, as Kirk drew his nails over one of his nipples across his chest to the other and back again. He did this over and over – and McCoy wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of saying "stop" – knew it probably wouldn't make a difference anyway.

"Leonard?" Kirk suggested. "Len? Lenny-boy? How about that nickname you had at the Academy…what was it?"

"Bones," the other answered. McCoy opened his eyes in surprise, focusing on Kirk's face, taking in how much the same, and how utterly different this one was compared to the Jim he knew.

"That's right. Bones. Because of your ability to break the most in an interrogation without killing the subject. That could work…how 'bout I call you," he pinched McCoy's nipple hard, making him grunt. "Bones?"

Oh, god. For that name – the name Jim gave him on the day his life changed – the name that marked McCoy as Jim's – to be something that this other Jim called him…it was more than he could handle.

"No," he growled through clenched teeth. "Not that." The other Jim leaned over him, placing a hand on the center of McCoy's chest, feeling his thundering heart. McCoy closed his eyes, unable to bear seeing his Jim's blue eyes in the face of this other.

"Is that what he calls you?" he whispered by McCoy's ear. "Does he call you that when you're fucking?" His hand slid down McCoy's body, over his shuddering belly. McCoy wouldn't answer him. Couldn't. Didn't trust that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't end up begging him to stop, god, please don't. And wouldn't give him that…wouldn't.

"Look McCoy," Jim said, talking to the other who was still in the room. "He even flushes like you do. Or did. You haven't in a long time. I kinda missed it." The other McCoy grunted.

"Do you need me to be here for this?"

"Jealous?" Kirk asked. McCoy didn't even bother answering. "Go." Without another word, the other doctor left. Now, alone with this Kirk, McCoy felt a surge of panic – had to open his eyes…couldn't be in the dark with this man. But he didn't want to see him either, so he kept his eyes on the ceiling. Kirk's hand, which had been resting low on McCoy's belly, moved lower still. McCoy jerked uncontrollably when it curled around his soft penis.

"It's remarkable, really. Exactly the same as him. I wonder if I can make you come the way I can make my McCoy come. What do you say…an experiment. In the name of science." Kirk pulled at his penis and then rubbed the head, hard. McCoy grunted in discomfort, trying automatically to bring his legs together to protect himself. "Hm. Mine doesn't like that either." McCoy didn't answer and continued to stare at the ceiling. He just wanted Kirk to shut up. He didn't want to hear his husband's voice as he was assaulted. "I wonder if you like the same things…"

Kirk started handling McCoy's penis more gently. Rubbing the head was always the quickest way to get him hard, and despite the fact that he concentrated on not responding, he was helpless to stop it from happening. Physiological reaction. McCoy thought, as he fought the urge to pant, trying to keep his breathing even. No control over this. It didn't help very much to know that. His hands were clenched so tightly he could feel his blunt nails cutting into his palms.

Short, dry strokes on his cock were getting harder to ignore. Between that, and the fingers tickling over the head, McCoy was responding. He felt bile rising in his throat and swallowed hard, clenching his teeth. He wasn't going to move. Wasn't going to give this Kirk the satisfaction of giving in. Kirk was relentless, though, using both hands to pull and rub and tease…and it wasn't long before McCoy was producing wetness and he had to force himself to stay quiet as his breath came faster and harder. He was shaking because of what was being done to him, and he was helpless against it. And Kirk wasn't stopping…wouldn't give him even a second of relief…and he just couldn't control himself anymore and he had to move…and he tried to thrust his hips.

"Ah, there we go…" Kirk said smugly. "It looks like you are the same."

"No!" McCoy groaned, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he lost the battle he had no hope of winning, tears slipping down his temples to dampen his hair. And once he started, he couldn't make himself stop. "No…no…stop, don't."

"Oh, come on Bones…" Kirk taunted. "I know what you like."

"No," McCoy pled again, desperately. Kirk simply ignored him and continued to stroke him, relentlessly, ruthlessly. He drew pained hisses and gasps…his grip tight and aided only by the wetness McCoy himself produced. But it was inexorable and inevitable…and finally, when McCoy thought it was never going to happen and Kirk would just go on torturing him with this, he finally felt like he was building to an orgasm. As much as he didn't want it, he wanted Kirk to stop even more.

Each brutal stroke was now accompanied by a hard palming of the sensitive head, and McCoy was grunting and straining with each one, head raising off the platform he was on, his body trying to curl up. Sweat trickled over him, and he tossed his head from side to side. When he didn't think he could stand it another minute more, all of his muscles tightened and went rigid, forcing him to arch as much as he could, pulling hard against the restraints, breath billowing in and out with every agonized groan – and his orgasm was forcibly pulled from him…too painful and too intense for there to be any pleasure in it at all.

Exhausted, relieved, and feeling sick he collapsed down, trying to catch his breath. His relief was very short-lived though, because Kirk started again, this time using his semen to lubricate his spent penis.

"Stop, stop!" McCoy gasped, helplessly yanking at his arms and legs. He couldn't stand it. His chest heaved as he tried to deal with the merciless and cruel stimulation. Looking at Kirk for the first time since he'd started this, his heart stuttered at the look of malevolence in his eyes as he focused on his task. He closed his eyes again, unable to bear looking at him, and he just couldn't take it anymore. "Please! I – I can't…" he choked out, turning his head as his body shuddered and writhed helplessly under his torturous hands.

"Oh, come on Bones," Kirk said. "I thought you were just like him. You should be having more fun."

"N-nooo…oh, god, stop…" Kirk continued to stroke him through the painful sensitivity, and eventually the intensity transmuted back to arousal. But he didn't finish it this time. Instead, when he finally did stop, stepping away from the table, he left McCoy hard and leaking, and wishing he were anywhere but here…and oh, god Jim, please, please hurry.

McCoy opened his eyes and looked up at Kirk, his vision swimming in tears. Kirk brushed his hair off his forehead with one messy hand, then gripped his jaw viciously. He leaned down and pressed his lips against McCoy's, violating his mouth as thoroughly as he'd violated his body. But there was a defense McCoy could use now…and he did. Biting at Kirk's lip, he was stunned into letting him go when he was hit, hard, across his temple, causing his vision to darken momentarily. When he focused on Kirk again, he was looking at McCoy with a blood-stained sneer, eyes ice-cold.

"You are quite a bit like him, you know." He reached to give McCoy's penis another couple of brutal tugs. "I'll be back as soon as my shift is over. See you soon." And then he was out of McCoy's line of sight. He held his breath until he heard the door open and close, and then he craned his head around the best he could to verify that Kirk really was gone. As sure as he could be, the sob that he'd been holding in his chest finally rattled free.

"Okay…I think we're ready to try it," Jim said. He'd been working with Scotty and Spock nonstop, trying to boost McCoy's remnant signal enough to be able to get him back from wherever he was. They would likely only get one shot at this. If it didn't work, it was probable that McCoy would be lost to them forever.

"Aye," Scotty confirmed. "This is likely the strongest we're going to get it. It'll be now or never."

"I will inform Medical," Spock said, moving to the nearest com panel. In this situation, Spock was Acting Captain, Jim almost immediately taking himself out of commission because he knew he was too compromised. But instead of just rattling around helplessly for the last eight hours, he'd been putting all of that considerable genius to work, focusing on nothing but getting Bones back. Minutes later, a med team was in the transporter room. Jim crossed his arms over himself and resisted the urge to fidget. And though he wasn't much into religion, he couldn't help the litany of please, god, please let him be okay that ran continuously through his head, echoed in the painful fear and desperate hope in his heart. Because what no one was willing to say was that even though they were able to maintain a lock on his signal, weak as it was, there was no way of knowing in what condition McCoy would be. They still didn't know where he'd gone.

A team from Medical arrived, led by Geoffrey M'Benga and Nurse Chapel, and one other nurse. Jim appreciated that. He knew that if McCoy came back needing care, he'd appreciate the fewer people too.

"Energize," Jim said, giving a command that wasn't his to make – and was his alone.

No one moved. No one breathed. Jim fairly vibrated with repressed energy and nerves and gut-wrenching fear and hope so powerful it was the only thing keeping him together.

And after what seemed to be a lifetime later, there was something visible in the net of the transport, but the figure was lying down. Slowly – it seemed so much more slower than usual – the figure became more substantial. Prone, arms and legs spread from the body, naked.

When McCoy was fully materialized, he looked around frantically. Unsure of where he was, and if he was surrounded by people he knew, or the others, he curled himself up and turned on his side, hiding his vulnerability with his back to them. And when Jim saw him move, he almost fainted with relief. He broke free of the shock first and rushed to him, kneeling down on the transporter pad, tears he didn't notice slipping down his cheeks and splashing on McCoy's skin, trickling down his side.

"Bones! Oh, god, Bones…please…are you okay?" He reached out to touch him, ignoring the commotion behind him. Someone was trying to pull him away, and he shook their hands off. "No! Bones, please say something!" He leaned over the curled body, his knees touching Bones' back, gently running his hands over his face, down his arm, noting the ligature marks on his wrists…the blood on his face. "Bones," he whispered.

"Captain," M'Benga said, gently grasping Jim's shoulder.

"No, just give me a second!" he yelled, blindly pushing at the person behind him.

Jim's voice was heavy with panic and relief…and something that was so innately Jim that it finally cut through McCoy's own panic.

"Jim?" he said, voice hoarse and cracked. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look up at him. He searched Jim's eyes, and after a moment, his eyes flooded with tears of relief. Those were the eyes of the man who was his husband. "Oh, thank god. I thought…I didn't think…"

"Shh, shh…don't talk," Jim said. "You're hurt. We'll fix you right up…you'll be f-"

"Not hurt," McCoy mumbled.

"But…the blood."

"Not mine. I'm okay…not hurt."

"Captain…we need to see to Dr. McCoy. Please back away from him." M'Benga's voice was firm and left no room for argument. Recognizing that it was necessary, even through the relief that was so intense it was palpable, Jim started to pull away. Suddenly, full awareness of what was happening rushed through McCoy, and he reached to grip Jim's arm, flushing darkly. It was too much – he couldn't bear being so exposed after everything that had happened.

"Jim…no, please. Not like this." He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down enough to be convincing, trying to make himself stop shaking. He looked up at Jim, meeting his eyes. "I'm not badly hurt. I want to get dressed and walk to Medical. Please."
Jim was silent for a moment, staring into his husband's eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he obviously found it.

"Everyone out," he said, without taking his eyes off of McCoy's face. There was silence for a moment, and Jim realized that no one had moved. Closing his eyes, he cursed under his breath. His commands carried no weight right now.

"Jim…" Spock said quietly. Jim turned so he could look at the Acting Captain, his hands protectively on McCoy's shoulder and hip, using his body to shield McCoy as much as he could.

"Spock, please. Everyone out, and Bones needs some clothes. We'll be to Medical in a few minutes." Spock was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded minutely. "Thank you," Jim said. He turned back to his husband, who was still curled up and trembling. Jim was vaguely aware of Spock speaking behind him, of movement in the transporter room behind him, but the whole of his attention was on Bones.

He caught Jim's hand in one of his and held on tightly…so tightly. Jim's eyes roved over his body, taking in the ligature marks not only on his wrists, but also his legs, above the knee and at the ankle. A bruise on his jaw and up the side of his face indicated that he'd been struck at least once. Jim swallowed as a heavy, sick feeling settled in his stomach. Where were you? What happened to you? He desperately wanted answers, but he couldn't bring himself to ask just yet. He turned slightly at the sound of the door opening again…Spock was back with some clothes.

"Dr. M'Benga expects Dr. McCoy in Medical in no more than ten minutes," he said, the unspoken "and then he's coming back for McCoy himself" loud and clear. Jim nodded his understanding. Jim waited until Spock left and then gently nudged Bones.

"Bones…Spock brought you some scrubs. Can you sit up?" McCoy responded and he slowly got dressed, keeping himself slightly turned away from Jim. He bit his lip when he caught sight of Bones' penis as he was putting on the pants. It looked red, abraded. He bit his lip and choked back a strangled sound, aching as he reluctantly put together what all the signs were telling him. Bones turned to look at him, saw the look on his face, and knew that even if Jim didn't know, he had an idea.

"Jim – I…" And then Jim was there, gathering McCoy into his arms and holding him securely. McCoy pressed his forehead against Jim's shoulder and took a couple of deep breaths. "I'm okay. I wasn't raped. I…he did…other things. But you saved me, I knew if you were here you'd find a way."

"Who?" Jim said, furious and sickened. "Who did this?" McCoy hesitated. How could he explain…he didn't even understand himself? Jim felt his hesitation. "Nevermind. Not now. Let's go to Medical, okay?"

"Okay," Leonard said quietly.

Hours later, after being cleared from Medical, after having some plain broth to eat – it was all his stomach could endure – after the debriefing, during which McCoy provided as much information as he could, after all of that, Jim and Bones were finally able to seclude themselves in their quarters.

Lying on their bed, Jim held him tightly, gently stroking his arms, his back, his hair, dropping kisses wherever he could reach. Bones hands were clenched in the fabric of Jim's t-shirt, holding on to something he wasn't sure he would ever have again. Now that Bones was safely home again, and he wasn't focused on a solution to a problem, the reality of what very nearly could have been hit him hard. He didn't know what he would do if he'd lost Bones…especially like that. He swallowed, trying to push down the lump in his throat, and pressed his face against Bones' shoulder, feeling tears he couldn't control swell behind his eyelids. And that was so stupid because nothing had happened to him…he should be the one comforting Bones, not the one needing the comfort. Because, god, what Bones had gone through at the hands of that other Captain Kirk…he just couldn't even think about it yet. He needed time to process, and to deal with the fact that there was nothing he could do make those "others", as Bones had referred to them, pay for what they had done.

"I was so scared," Jim murmured. "I thought you were-" He couldn't even finish the thought. "What do you need? Tell me what I can do, Bones, please."

Bones' hand clenched in the fabric of Jim's shirt as he shifted slightly, putting one of his legs over Jim's. He winced at the feel of the fabric of his sweats against the tender skin of his newly-healed penis. He'd put his foot down in Medical, not allowing anyone there to run the dermal regenerator over him. He just couldn't. Instead, he'd taken care of it here, in the privacy of their bathroom. He also hadn't been able to bring himself to put on the record what that other Kirk had done to him. It felt too much like another violation, too soon. But here, safely held in Jim's arms, he'd haltingly admitted to the extent of abuse he'd endured. And it could've been worse…he knew that. But it didn't really help. What he needed was to ground himself in the touch of his Jim.

"I need you...I need to feel you Jim. I don't want to look at you and remember his hands…" Bones broke off, his voice cracking. Jim pressed his lips together, not wanting that either. He knew what Bones was asking for, and he wanted to give it to him, but he didn't want to hurt him, and he didn't want to scare him…the thought of Bones being scared of him made his heart ache.

"Shh…" Jim kissed him, slow and tender, using his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that escaped Bones' lashes. "It's okay. I love you, so, so much." He slipped his hands under Bones' shirt, pushing it up and mapping Bones' skin, like he'd done hundreds of times before. This time, though, it was different. This time, he touched him as if he'd never touched him before, and like he wouldn't ever again. He made a silent vow to never take the gift of Bones in his life for granted again.

Kissing his way down Bones' neck, he stopped to gently suck and tongue at a particularly sensitive spot, and he felt Bones respond, groaning deep in his chest. He moved down Bones' chest, licking and kissing, teasing gasps out of him as he went. He let his hands slide down to McCoy's pants, catching his fingers in the waistband. Carefully, Jim eased the pants down and off, mindful of how tender Bones still was. Not wanting to cause him any discomfort, Jim didn't touch him there. Instead, he urged Bones to pull his knees up, putting his feet flat on the mattress. He listened to Bones breathing, and moved back up his body, kissing him deeply and gently stroking his jaw.

"I – I don't want to do anything to-"

"Jim," McCoy interrupted, reaching to run his hand through Jim's hair, and sliding down to cup Jim's jaw. "I'm fine. I just want to feel you. I need you." Jim kissed him again, a shorter, harder kiss this time.

"Okay," Jim said. Then, he cocked an eyebrow, looking down at McCoy with a slight smirk on his face, feeling a little more sure of himself, and of Bones' state of mind. "This'll be fun…getting you to come without actually touching you. Wanna time me?" Bones chuckled, grateful for the normalcy and how…Jim he was.

"You're already behind, kid," he said, raising his head to catch Jim's lips in another kiss. Jim smiled at him and made his way back down Bones' body. Settling between his legs, Jim gently spread Bones' ass, leaned in, and softly eased his tongue around the sensitive skin. Bones let out a sigh as his legs tightened slightly before relaxing again. Smiling, Jim did it again, the brush of his tongue purposely light and teasing, listening for Bones' responses.

Bones bucked his hips slightly, curling his hands in the sheets. He felt Jim grasp his hips to hold him in place. Bones bit his lip, turning his head as Jim worked between his legs. The sensation of Jim's tongue on him, in him, was intense and caused him to squirm, giving in to the urge to move. When Jim firmed his tongue and used it to breach his entrance, Bones let out a shuddery breath and shivered from head to toe, the muscles in his legs tensing. He longed to reach down and give his cock a couple of strokes, but he didn't want to irritate tender skin. On the other hand, as good as what Jim was doing felt, he didn't think he'd be able to come this way.

Jim looked up when Bones let out a deep groan. His penis was hard and leaking, and his sweaty face was screwed up with tension. Bones writhed, thrusting his hips and bringing his knees together, instinctively looking for more friction.

"Ohhh…god, Jim," Bones panted. "Need more, please." Jim swirled his tongue around and in Bones, then gently inserted his finger, twisting to find…

"Aahh! Shit, Jim, do that again, uh, ooh…" Bones curled up, overcome by the intensity of having Jim stroke his prostate while tonguing his asshole. Pulling his mouth away, Jim leaned up and gently, so gently curled his other hand around Bones' straining cock, causing Bones to buck uncontrollably. Jim followed his movements, though, so there was no friction on the shaft. He guided Bones' cock down, and carefully tongued the head, swirling it around and lapping at the underside. Bones was groaning continuously now, tossing his head from side to side, every muscle pulled taut. Between Jim rubbing over his prostate and using his tongue on the head of his cock, it was intense, overwhelming pleasure. Bones' legs fell straight to either side of Jim's body, and his heels dug into the mattress as his body arched, knuckles white as he twisted the sheets in his grip, right on the edge of release.

Jim pressed, right on that spot inside of Bones and sucked hard, twirling his tongue around the head of Bones' cock, and that did it. With a shout that sounded almost pained, Bones came hard bucking and thrusting as much as he could with Jim's weight on his lower body, his upper body twisting as he gasped and struggled through it. Jim kept his mouth on him and continually rubbed his prostate throughout, feeling the rush of orgasm course through Bones' body. Jim released his penis when Bones stopped cumming, and gently eased his finger out of his body.

Jim kissed his way back up, feeling Bones' body shuddering through the aftershocks as he tried to catch his breath. Jim settled himself beside him, gently kissing Bones' forehead, watching as his drawn brows relaxed. Bones opened his eyes to see Jim smiling softly at him. Bones wrapped a hand around Jim's head, and gently pulled him down for a kiss. Jim pulled away after a couple of seconds, looking into Bones' eyes intently.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't get you back sooner," he whispered. "None of that should have ever happened to you." Bones smiled softly, drawing his fingers down Jim's face.

"I never had any doubt you'd find me and figure out how to get me out of there," Bones said. Jim sighed and lowered himself down to rest his head on Bones' shoulder. He squeezed his eyes closed and blindly reached for Bones' left hand, running his finger over the band he wore, a match to the one on Jim's hand. He couldn't let himself think of the "what ifs" and the "could have beens." It was all too much, knowing what he could have lost. He let out a breath when he felt Bones tenderly cup the back of his head.

"There's no place you could go I wouldn't find you," Jim whispered.