Chocolate and Wine

Leonard rubbed his eyes and glanced at the chronometer on the wall — a few more minutes and his double shift would be over. He had volunteered to take on the extra work since he knew the regular staff at the Yorktown hospital would be fighting to get the night off. After all, it was Valentine’s Day. He figured he might as well let someone else spend the evening with a lover or spouse. Not that Leonard couldn’t have found a date — Jim had offered to introduce him to several women, all of whom he swore were intelligent and beautiful — but Leonard had turned him down, using the excuse that he had to work.

The fact was, the one person Leonard wanted to ask out was off-limits… again. He’d had a very small window of opportunity but he’d failed to take advantage of it. And “taking advantage” was how it would have felt, since the individual in question had not only been his patient but also emotionally compromised at the time. However, by the time the patient had recovered enough that Leonard could have considered it ethically excusable to make a move, the window of opportunity had closed — slammed in his face, more like. So then, rather than settle for second best with one of Jim’s acquaintances or even lick his wounds alone with a bottle, Leonard had chosen to work. It was the lesser of the evils, he figured, and would at least keep his mind occupied.

Of course it didn’t help that the whole hospital — maybe even the whole starbase — was bound and determined to celebrate the day with as much enthusiasm as they could muster. Being saved from almost certain death a few weeks earlier had given the inhabitants a renewed sense of purpose and appreciation for their lives, it seemed. Most of the nursing assistants were wearing festive smocks with heart patterns, everyone was discussing their plans for spending time with their loved ones (even the ones working the late shift, who would be celebrating a day late), and many of Leonard’s patients offered him chocolate candies out of heart-shaped boxes. He managed to not sound gruff — or more gruff than usual — but it had been a long, arduous struggle for sixteen hours.

When the chronometer finally signaled his release, Leonard heaved a sigh and headed home. He walked past bright storefronts still decorated for the holiday even though it was technically the 15th now. Then one shop caught his eye with a huge red sign declaring that everything Valentine-themed was 75% off.

“Damn! That’s the good stuff, too,” Leonard thought as he came to a halt. The shop was a premium chocolatier that sold only handmade truffles. He’d heard some of the nurses say it was the best chocolate in Yorktown. “Why not? I could use a little pick-me-up… and when was the last time I indulged myself with some really good chocolate?” So he stepped inside to select from an array of boxes.


Spock regarded the bottle of wine with suppressed annoyance. He had purchased it soon after the ordeal with Krall (or Edison, as it had turned out) because he knew that this day was approaching and he had learned, years ago, that it was inexcusable to let it pass without making some kind of extravagant demonstration of affection to his significant other. The problem was, he had made his significant other angry — “pissed off,” he believed, was the appropriate colloquial expression — even before Valentine’s Day had arrived.

His fault lay in having told Nyota that what had ultimately convinced him to remain in Starfleet was Jim — because Jim needed him. The argument which followed had shown Spock precisely why that admission had been a mistake, but the damage had already been done. Now he was bereft of her company (and the opportunity to present his demonstration of affection) not only on Valentine’s Day but also perhaps — this time — for good. He had been astounded on each previous occasion that she had forgiven him and taken him back; he could not possibly expect or hope for her forgiveness yet again.

Which left him with a bottle of expensive 2233 Saint-Émilion and nobody with whom to drink it. Since alcoholic beverages did not cause intoxication for Spock’s unique physiology, he considered it an illogical waste to drink it all himself. He would have offered it to Jim, to share with his date, but Jim had already left for Risa with the beautiful Argonian girl he had met last week. The next candidate — who, Spock was certain, would appreciate the wine’s properties — was Leonard, but he was apparently working a double shift on the holiday. Spock wondered if the doctor were going to celebrate Valentine’s the day after or on the following weekend, although he suspected the irascible Human might not observe the tradition at all. Leonard had not been seeing anybody, at least that Spock knew, for as long as they had both been on the Enterprise.

Now that he considered it, Spock wondered if there might not be another reason for Leonard seemingly staying single, although he chided himself for entertaining his vague impression as a possibility. However, during their wanderings on Altamid, the doctor’s concern for Spock’s health and safety had engulfed his empathic receptors like a tidal wave; the sheer strength of Leonard’s emotions over the prospect of Spock dying had been overwhelming — to the point that even then, Spock had questioned whether the doctor’s feelings were entirely professional… or perhaps an indication of something else. Something… more.

One moment in particular had been etched acutely into his memory: Spock had attempted to enter a healing trance as they waited for dawn in the abandoned, cave-like room, and Leonard had panicked when he could not wake him on his first few tries. He had put his medical knowledge to good use, though, contacting the major psi points in Spock’s face to rouse him, but in so doing his thoughts had flooded into Spock’s mind. “Dammit, Spock, don’t you die on me! I can’t lose you… not here, not now, not like this! Don’t leave me… Don’t you dare leave me!” While the fear of becoming isolated on a planet inhabited by hostile aliens may have been sufficient cause for his terror, Spock had not been able to silence the suspicion that there was a warmth of feeling toward himself at the root of Leonard’s dismay. He thought he had sensed beyond the barrier of gruff words and blustering arguments to find tenderness — even longing — deep within Leonard’s consciousness.

Then again, Spock reminded himself, he had been nearly delirious with blood loss and exhaustion at the time. His subjective impressions could not be considered a reliable assessment by any means.

Pondering these things again as he checked the chronometer, waiting for midnight when Leonard’s work shift would end, Spock realized that he was curious to find out whether the doctor did, indeed, have any plans for Valentine’s. Giving him the bottle of wine was an excellent method to sound him out; in fact Spock became cognizant of his own anticipation for the conversation that was sure to follow. Not that it would provide a conclusive answer to his musings, of course — even if Leonard had no plans and was not dating anybody at the moment, that would not necessarily mean he had any feelings (other than the occasional irritation) toward Spock. But Spock had come to enjoy their verbal repartee and had found their dialogue to be… stimulating. After an evening spent alone meditating in his quarters, he was looking forward to some companionship, however brief.

Spock felt a smile beginning to tug at his lips as he considered some of the remarks Leonard might make upon being asked about a holiday in which, purportedly, a fat infant demigod flew about on tiny wings, shooting unsuspecting victims with heart-tipped arrows. Then a thought occurred to Spock that brought him up short: “Perhaps I have suspected Leonard of harboring a secret attraction toward me… because I am attracted to him…. Have I created a transference, attributing to him what I myself feel, thereby enabling my mind to deny my own emotions?”

Spock knew it was illogical to feel cold, since the thermostat of his room kept the ambient temperature constant, but he felt as though he’d been flash-frozen. He forced himself to ruthlessly examine his emotions. “I am hoping to learn for certain that Leonard does not have a date — if Leonard were to say he has plans with someone special, I would be… severely disappointed… perhaps even crestfallen.” Spock blinked at the realization. While his mental discipline had prevented him from rashly expecting to hear an affirmation of his suspicions, if he were being honest with himself, he wanted to confirm that Leonard was at least not in love with anybody else.

This came as a shock.

“Though I may not have actively desired to pursue a relationship with Leonard,” Spock thought with growing astonishment, “I do not want him to be in a relationship with somebody else… which would eliminate any possibility of my having one with him… even though I had not consciously considered such a possibility. This… is not logical.”

Spock noticed that the time had passed midnight; Leonard would be making his way home. Spock weighed his options. He did not have to give away the Saint-Émilion. It would not spoil with the passage of time — in fact quite the opposite was true. Although he had wanted to dispose of it so it would not remind him of his failure to please Nyota (again), his control over his emotions should be strong enough not to be bothered by its presence. He had not promised it to Leonard or even mentioned it to him. There was no reason he should not imbibe it himself, either. And he could always find an excuse to give it away later if he so chose, perhaps for somebody’s birthday.

He glanced again at the chronometer, calculating how long it would take Leonard to walk from the hospital. He knew the doctor avoided taking transporters as much as possible, so Spock still had a few minutes in which to make up his mind.

“If he does have plans… then I ought to be able to congratulate him,” Spock decided, though the prospect pained him. “I will be rid of the bottle and it should give him pleasure… as well as his significant other.” Spock swallowed, surprised at how sharp a pang shot through his body at that last thought. “But if, perhaps, he does not have plans… I could… offer him my companionship — just companionship — to start with… perhaps over the weekend… although he should not be working tomorrow after pulling a double shift today.”

His curiosity winning out, Spock picked up the bottle, steeled his resolve, and stepped out into the corridor.

His resolve almost dissolved as minute after minute ticked by with no sign of Leonard.

“Perhaps he did have plans… for tonight,” Spock thought, trying to tamp down his bitter disappointment and ready to retreat back into the safety of his own quarters. He was tempted to just leave the bottle in front of Leonard’s door — nobody knew he had bought it, after all, so it would simply be an anonymous gift, a token of affection from someone who did not expect it to be requited, an encouraging indication to Leonard that he had a secret admirer. “Or,” Spock worried, “he might think it’s a prank… that it was left to make him believe he had an admirer to see how he would react.” Since that was not a predicament Spock desired, he paced over to the window at the end of the hallway and looked up at the stars. His heavy sigh fogged the glass momentarily.

When he turned at the sound of the turbolift doors, Leonard emerged at last, carrying a large shopping bag.

“Hey, Spock,” Leonard said. “What’re you doin’ out here? Waiting for Uhura?”

“Ah… no. In fact… I am… waiting for you.” Spock was appalled by the nervous tension making his body shiver and attempted to compensate by striding toward Leonard with a confidence he did not feel.

“Me? Whatever for?” Leonard asked, his brows rising in astonishment.

“I wished to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s,” Spock stated, hoping the other man would not notice the slight tremble in his voice. “I have a bottle of wine that I thought perhaps you could put to good use.”

“Well… that’s mighty generous of you, Spock,” Leonard replied, looking at the label Spock had presented for him to read, “but I’m the wrong person for that. You should’ve caught Jim before he left.”

“Oh,” Spock said, startled by how relieved he felt at Leonard’s simple admission. “Well, I… am sorry to hear that.” He had to try very hard not to sound happy as he said so.

“What happened? Uhura didn’t like it?” Leonard said with a slight gesture at the bottle.

“I… did not have the opportunity to ask,” Spock told him. “We had a… I believe what you would call a ‘falling out’ last week.”

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Leonard frowned in confusion. “I thought you guys just got back together.”

“We had…. Obviously, I failed to maintain the relationship to her satisfaction.”

“God, Spock — don’t blame yourself too much,” Leonard consoled. “It’s hard enough to keep a Human woman happy when you’re a Human yourself; I’m living proof of that.” He gave Spock a lopsided grin and added, “Does seem like a waste not to drink your fine wine… and I’ve got just the thing to go with it.” He pulled out a red heart-shaped box from his bag with a flourish. “They were on clearance! Stroke of midnight and the store couldn’t get rid of ’em fast enough, so I got three. I’ll share mine if you’ll share yours?”

Spock gaped at the box for a nanosecond. “You do realize… cocoa causes intoxication in Vulcans?”

“Of course! That’s why it’s a fair trade.” Leonard grinned mischievously as he unlocked his door. “C’mon in… unless you’re working tomorrow?”

“I am not,” Spock replied, then followed McCoy into his quarters. The apartment was identical to Spock’s, only a mirror image.

“There should be glasses up in there,” Leonard said, pointing with one hand while putting the chocolate boxes on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Help yourself and get started. I just need to wash up and change into something more comfortable.”

One of Spock’s eyebrows rose almost on its own at the seeming innuendo, but he decided he was overthinking things, even though Leonard had beaten him to the punch, so to speak, at suggesting they enjoy the wine together. The fact that Leonard had bought chocolates — the perfect complement to wine, particularly in a romantic setting — seemed auspicious. Spock found some stemmed glasses, uncorked the bottle, poured the wine out to let it breathe, and enjoyed the aroma on the cork.

Spock had just finished setting the glasses and bottle on the table when Leonard came out of the bathroom wearing a loose shirt and off-white cargo pants that accentuated his thick thighs. Spock turned his attention to the top box of chocolates so he would not stare at Leonard’s endowments.

“This one contains dark chocolate,” he remarked as he read the label.

“Yeah, they all do — they’re my favorite,” Leonard told him as he sat down on the sofa. “I hope you like them…. Personally, I don’t feel like I’ve had real chocolate unless it’s 60% or more.”

“I prefer the darker varieties also,” Spock answered, sitting down beside him. “However, they cause intoxication much quicker than the less concentrated kind.”

“Well, then… it’s a good thing there’s a doctor in the house.” Leonard’s smirk was more sultry than Spock would have expected; it made his already fast pulse quicken. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you get drunk alone. I’ve got a couple bottles of stronger stuff if I need to keep pace with you.”

“I see.” Spock felt his face grow warm and glanced at the box in his hands to avoid Leonard’s gaze.

“Go ahead — open it. There should be a card inside that says which ones are what.” Leonard picked up his glass and sniffed it. “Oh, yeah! This is the good stuff.”

“I’m delighted that you approve,” Spock said as he removed the clear wrapping and set the box down. When he took off the lid, the scent of cocoa made his mouth water. Very few people knew he had a sweet tooth — and a particular fondness for chocolate, in spite of its effects. “The round ones are cream- or cordial-filled and the rectangular ones have nougat,” he explained after reading the code card. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Anything but caramel,” Leonard told him, swirling the dark liquid in his glass to watch it ease down the sides.

“I would be happy to consume those,” Spock said, picking out the square ones and placing them in the overturned lid. He offered the rest of the box to Leonard.

“Cheers!” Leonard chuckled and popped a candy into his mouth whole. Spock did the same with one of the caramels, waiting for the outer shell to melt. They both moaned at the same time when the richness of the chocolate saturated their taste buds.

“Oh, yeah,” Leonard murmured appreciatively before taking a sip of the wine. “Just what the doctor ordered!”

Spock allowed a faint smile to show as he stated, “You must be exhausted from working so long.”

Leonard nodded and selected his next chocolate. “That’s an understatement. But I can’t complain — the staff and the facilities are top-notch. Plus everybody was in a festive mood today.”

Spock chose his words carefully as he picked up the other caramel piece. “I must admit… I am rather surprised that you do not have any plans to celebrate a holiday commemorating an overweight demigod who shoots his victims with invisible arrows to induce uncontrollable passion.”

Leonard snorted, then laughed out loud. “That’s just the sort of illogical thing you’d expect Humans to embrace, right? Yeah, well… if I had someone special, I might have done something special, but I’d rather show my love in the little, everyday things. Valentine’s just seems a bit too… contrived.”

“For once, I must concur.” Spock pondered what Leonard had said as he savored the sweet, then asked, “What sort of ‘little, everyday things’ do you espouse?”

“Oh, I dunno…. When I had a house, I did the yardwork on the weekends… took the cars in for regular maintenance, made sure they were in good shape… did the dishes and laundry as often as I could… you know, just normal stuff.”

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps I should have attempted to engage more often in such simple acts of kindness for Nyota.”

“Not like you have household chores, though, on a starship,” Leonard pointed out. “And besides, they sure as hell weren’t enough to save my train wreck of a marriage. I probably should’ve done more romantic stuff… sunset walks, actual dates where we’d dress up and go out for dinner… the sort of stuff women like.”

“At least you are aware of the things preferred by Human women in courtship rituals,” Spock remarked. “Unfortunately, I had not heeded my mother’s comments on Human dating customs — or had only listened with vague interest — so much of my experience with Lieutenant Uhura was… trial and error.”

Leonard laughed and chose another piece of chocolate, then passed the box back to Spock. “Trust me, every woman is different, so regardless of your familiarity or lack thereof, it’s gonna be trial and error. Sometimes you get lucky, but most times you’re just groping in the dark. Literally, too, if you don’t know your way around a bra. It’s enough to make a guy wanna bat for the other team.”

“The ‘other team’?” Spock asked reflexively. “Is that a sports-related metaphor?”

“Uh… yeah. Baseball. The one where you try to hit the ball pitched to you with a bat — a big stick.”

“I’m familiar with the game; I have watched several historical matches,” Spock informed him while selecting a cream-filled truffle. “What is the symbolism of the expression you used?”

“Oh, just… you know, wanting to switch sides… try something different,” Leonard explained, his cheeks flushing. Spock turned to look at him better, curious about his suddenly evasive demeanor.

“Different… in what way?” he prodded before putting the chocolate in his mouth.

Leonard’s face had turned beet red — far too quickly to be accounted for by the mild alcohol of the wine.

“Well, uh… in whatever way you want, really… but, uh… the expression usually means… you try dating another gender.”

Spock’s one eyebrow shot up. “You mean… to date men… instead of women… simply to avoid their lingerie?”

Leonard coughed and sputtered on his wine before settling into a chuckle. “Well, not just to avoid their lingerie, but… yeah. To avoid all the… the stress and the hassle — not that it’s really a hassle, not if you’re really into her — but dammit, sometimes it’s impossible to figure out what’s going on in their minds! So yeah, maybe it’d be easier to date a guy, y’know? Less complicated.”

“Is he saying,” Spock wondered, “that he is actually interested in dating men? Or at least hinting at it? But why would he imply such a thing? Does he possibly mean… he is interested… in me?”

Having only recently realized that he himself was interested in Leonard — almost possessive of him, in fact — Spock was uncertain whether his desire for such an overture could be influencing his interpretation. He swirled his wine to buy some time, then replied, “Perhaps it would be… less complicated.”

“Y’think?” Leonard said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Yes. I know there have been many studies done regarding how male and female brains process information,” Spock soberly answered. “Excluding transgender individuals, whose results are distributed more widely across the spectrum, there seem to be some inherent differences according to gender, which indicates that understanding another gender is, of necessity, more difficult and complicated. A same-gender relationship is more likely to be easier, smoother, and… less complicated, as you say.”

“Right. Very logical,” Leonard said with a smirk, though somehow it did not reach his eyes. He picked out another chocolate and chewed it slowly, thoughtfully.

Spock followed suit and was distracted by the sweet and tart liqueur that burst on his tongue.

“This… is very… flavorful,” he commented in appreciation.

“It is, isn’t it? Was that one cherry?”

“Yes.” Spock watched as Leonard found another of the same shape, then selected a nougat one for himself this time. Both were equally delicious, it seemed, from the way both men sighed in bliss.

Spock sipped his wine, noting how the alcoholic beverage carried the scents of the candy up to his olfactory receptors, which were stimulated into hyper-sensitivity by the unusual feast. He realized the cocoa had already begun to take effect. He was feeling more relaxed than he did even after meditation; his thoughts were racing off in multiple directions but always circling back to the same theme, centered on Leonard; and he had a most illogical impulse to sit closer to the doctor — on top of him, in fact, seemed preferable. Restraining that impulse took most of Spock’s currently limited self-control.

“Now that I have allowed myself to entertain the notion, I am irresistibly attracted to him,” Spock analyzed with one part of his mind. “He is desirable not only for his athletic body but also for his keen intellect and exemplary character. I wonder… when he mentioned dating his own gender, was he intimating that he might be open to such an advance? Does he, perhaps… want me to initiate such an affair?”

“Hey,” Leonard needled good-naturedly, “you’re awful quiet all of a sudden.”

Spock realized that he had been and opened his mouth to retort. Unfortunately, the question forefront in his mind spilled out of his lips without being censored.

“Leonard… do you wish to have intercourse with me?”

“Say what?

Leonard gawked at him for several seconds, during which time Spock tried to determine whether the Human might not have heard the question clearly and, if so, what other similar-sounding phrase he could possibly state in order to pretend he had not just said what he did. Since Spock was unused to prevaricating, no ideas came to mind — and Leonard had heard him correctly after all, as his next query proved.

“Spock… are you drunk?”

“I… believe I may be under the influence… yes,” Spock admitted, hoping the confession would distract the doctor enough to forget his previous words.

“Wow, that was fast,” Leonard said, picking up the box to check the ingredients label. “Are you feeling all right? No dizziness or nausea?”

“I feel fine,” Spock answered. “Do not concern yourself unduly, Doctor — I am still in control of my faculties.” Then he pursed his lips for a moment, remembering his slip-up. “For the most part.”

“Okay.” Leonard leaned closer to look in Spock’s eyes, which caused Spock’s heart to thump harder and faster in his side. “You’re a bit dilated but not too badly. Let me know if you start feeling worse — and I’ll get you some water, just to be safe.”

“Thank you,” Spock said with relief. At least now that Leonard had stood up from the couch, Spock no longer had to fight the urge to plant himself against the man’s solid chest.

Leonard came back with a glass of water. “Here, drink some. And in answer to your question… although I hope you’re too far gone to remember it in the morning… yeah.”

Spock set the glass down abruptly without drinking a drop. “You… do?”

“Drink — doctor’s orders,” Leonard reiterated, though his tone was gentle. “And yes. But I would want to date you properly, not just take you for a roll in the hay… if you’re even interested in that sort of thing.”

Spock stared at the other man while he sat down, noticing that Leonard seemed nervous or self-conscious, smoothing the fabric over his stomach and fidgeting with his shirtsleeves. For a long moment, Spock’s brain seemed to have come to a halt; then when it restarted, his first thought was how fit and muscular Leonard was under that shirt and how pleasurable it might be to come into contact with his large, well-toned body. Blushing, Spock averted his eyes by mustering all of his willpower, then forced himself to drink the water. He carefully replaced the glass on the table before turning to Leonard.

“I would be… amenable to pursuing such an arrangement,” he stated. “And it is fortunate that at the moment, I am free to do so.”

“You… are?” Leonard said with hesitation and a great deal of incredulity.

“Yes. I believe I had said, even before I became affected by the chocolate, that Lieutenant Uhura and I have parted ways. Permanently, judging from her last words.”

“No, I mean… I don’t doubt that you’ve broken up with her again, but… I find it hard to believe you’re ‘amenable’ to doing anything — least of all with me.”

Spock tilted his head quizzically. “Why would I not? You are intelligent and skilled in your profession, dedicated in your duty to Starfleet as well as compassionate toward all lifeforms we encounter, and are — by any estimation — a healthy and attractive example of your species.”

Leonard gaped at him, studying his features as though searching for a clue about his veracity.

“Spock… you think I’m attractive?”

“Of course.” Spock assessed Leonard from head to toe. “Extremely attractive.”

“My God! You’re drunk off your ass,” he said in awe.

“I do not think my current condition warrants such a diagnosis,” Spock protested. “I am still capable of rational thought, and I am quite certain that by objective standards, you are attractive.”

“Yeah, but you just admitted it!” Leonard quaffed the last of his wine and set his glass down with an air of finality. “Look, I know I said I’d keep pace with you in getting drunk, but one of us needs to stay sober or this could get completely out of hand.”

“I can foresee no issues with pursuing this vein of inquiry… although it is a logical decision to avoid excessive intoxication.”

‘No issues,’ he says… dammit,” Leonard muttered under his breath. “Spock, you just offered to pursue a… a physical relationship with me… after I told you I was interested. Do you even realize what that would ordinarily lead to? I mean, you just gave me your consent!”

“I am aware.” Spock regarded him placidly, though the impulse to run his hands over the Human’s body was growing unbearable. “How would you like to proceed?”

“Spock! I… I can’t take advantage of you like that,” Leonard explained. “Your judgment could be impaired. And I don’t want to do something you’ll regret — that we’ll both regret — in the morning.”

“I see,” Spock replied, finally understanding Leonard’s cause for concern. “You think my intoxication has influenced my judgment. In that case allow me to assure you, my desire to seek an intimate relationship with you did not originate after my consumption of the chocolate; in fact I had realized my attraction to you when I made the decision to offer you this wine.”

“You did?” Leonard asked, his expression skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Quite. I observed an intense curiosity in myself to learn whether or not you had plans to spend time with anyone for this romantic holiday — which if proven in the affirmative, would have caused me significant disappointment… and if not, I had hoped to offer at least my companionship… if it were agreeable to you.”

Leonard looked away, his jaw working as though he wanted to say something but he did not know what.

“If you still have any doubts regarding my attraction for you,” Spock continued, shifting closer to Leonard and staring hungrily at the neckline of his shirt, “I am prepared to prove it… by whatever means you wish.”

Leonard gulped as he met Spock’s eyes. “Spock, I… you may be right, but… I need to be sure, okay? I just… I don’t want to do anything… that might be a mistake.”

“Why would it be a mistake?” Spock asked, sounding petulant. “I have just assured you, my attraction for you is genuine.”

“Okay… okay,” Leonard said in a conciliatory tone. “So then, tell me what you want to do, Spock. Where do you want this to go? How do you want to… ‘proceed’?”

Spock tried to consider this logically but ended up saying what every cell in his body seemed to be screaming: “I wish to touch you… and be touched.”

Leonard closed his mouth and nodded once, acknowledging the request as a reasonable one. “Okay… how? Specifically.”

Spock licked his lips, aware that the pounding in his side had grown stronger. His fingers twitched with the impulse to touch Leonard, to show him exactly what he wanted, but he clenched his hands to restrain them. “Everywhere,” he managed to say despite how ragged his breathing had become. “Your naked skin… on your chest, your arms, your back… everywhere.”

Leonard’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Ah… okay, then. Would you care to demonstrate?”

The next moment Spock was on top of Leonard — pounced was the only way to describe it — sliding his hands greedily under the man’s shirt until it was hitched up to his armpits. Now that he had been given an invitation, Spock threw all inhibitions to the void of space as he explored the nuances of Leonard’s flesh: his broad chest with its virile growth of hair, his muscular arms, his taut abdomen. Although he was straddling his lap, Spock bent down to kiss one of Leonard’s nipples while reaching around his back and mapping the contours there. The faint taste of salt and scent of musk only fanned the flames of his desire.

“Fuck! Holy hell,” Leonard swore and gasped, struggling to pull off his shirt. Before he had discarded it, Spock was kissing his throat as though his very life depended on it. “Dammit, Spock… whoa! Easy there, big fella. There’s plenty to go around.” Though pinned against the arm of the sofa by Spock’s ardor, Leonard embraced him and attempted to calm him by running his hands up and down the Vulcan’s spine in a soothing gesture. However, the bulge in his trousers had grown uncomfortably large from Spock’s eager attentions. “Hot damn, Spock! Slow down — I’m not going anywhere.”

Spock finally paused to study Leonard’s face, his shoulders heaving from his exertions. “Am I… being… too… rapacious?”

“No, it’s all right, just… you can take your time, okay?” Leonard chuckled breathlessly. “But I don’t doubt that you want this anymore. At least for now.”

Spock cocked his head in confusion. “For now?”

“Yeah. We’ll just have to wait and see how you feel when you’re not… drunk on chocolate.”

“I am not intoxicated,” Spock insisted. He felt an illogical urge to cry. “I am not. I… truly want you, Leonard.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling Spock down to hold him close. “But just to be on the safe side, let’s take it slow, all right? I mean, if this doesn’t work out, we still have to work together, so… that’s logical, right?”

Spock pressed himself against Leonard’s body. It was difficult to feel disgruntled when he also felt so comfortable in the other man’s arms, but Spock had to protest. “It would be logical to explore all the options available to us, Leonard… and since neither of us is on duty tomorrow, now is as logical a time as ever.”

Leonard laughed, amused by the Vulcan’s impatience. “All in good time, Spock — I promise.” The renowned surgeon’s hands gently cradled the back of Spock’s head, ruffling the neat ends of his hair. “But right now I’m so exhausted, I don’t know how much longer I can keep my eyes open.”

“Oh!” Spock caught his breath. “Forgive me, I had forgotten that you’d worked a double shift today.”

“It’s all right, Spock.” Leonard emphasized his statement with a chaste kiss to Spock’s forehead. “What say we go to bed, and if you still feel this way in the morning, well… then we can explore all those options?”

Spock hesitated. He did not want to leave the warmth of Leonard’s embrace. “I… yes. You need to rest — of course.” With an enormous effort of will, Spock peeled himself away from Leonard and stood up, trying not to look disappointed.

“Okay.” Leonard stood up also, then grabbed Spock’s hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. “You’re a little overdressed for the occasion, though, sweetheart.”

Spock stared at him, not quite comprehending though allowing himself to be led. He didn’t utter a sound even when Leonard began to undress him, draping his tunic over the back of a chair.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Leonard teased.

“I… don’t understand,” Spock began, nonplussed. “I thought you wished to wait until the morning?”

“Yeah… that is, for any sexual stuff,” he explained. “Doesn’t mean we can’t spend the night together, does it? We can just cuddle for tonight… unless you’d rather sleep alone?”

“No! Of course not,” Spock replied more vehemently than he’d intended. He blushed as he assisted Leonard in undressing himself. “I would be delighted to spend the night with you.”


Leonard was not about to let this golden opportunity slip away. Although he could not in good conscience have sex with Spock while the Vulcan might be under the influence, Leonard also couldn’t let him go back to his own quarters where, if he woke up regretting his wantonness — or possibly having forgotten it — Spock would be able to avoid Leonard altogether. And from what he knew about Human psychology (though it was admittedly different from the Vulcan mindset), Leonard worried that Spock might pretend to forget about the whole incident rather than face the embarrassment.

“He gave me a clear statement of consent,” Leonard reasoned, “so he can’t complain if I keep him here overnight with no hanky-panky!”

While undressing Spock, Leonard was examining him as well. “Flushed more than earlier,” he noted. “Pupils more dilated than they were before, too. Shit — how long does chocolate intoxication last? If his symptoms aren’t better in the morning, I should look that up… although he may react differently from full Vulcans. But if anything, he’s tipsier now than when I first noticed he was acting weird. God! For him to say he wants me…. I just hope he doesn’t hate himself when he gets back to normal.”

Another indication that Spock was not his usual self was the fact that he was prepared to strip naked for Leonard.

“Keep your underwear on, sweetheart,” Leonard told him with a light laugh, hoping to make any memory of the night less painful for Spock by acting as though it were fun, humorous, and not a big deal. “I’ll keep mine on, too, okay? So we’re not… fully committed.”

“As I have said before, I am fully committed to pursuing this to its logical conclusion,” Spock replied with what looked suspiciously like a pout. He did, however, stop trying to push down his underwear in favor of running his hands over Leonard’s chest. “You have not yet removed your trousers; would you like me to assist you?”

“I’ll get it, Spock… but thanks.” After shucking them off and tossing them aside, Leonard drew close, circling his arms around the unwontedly compliant science officer, then touched their noses together. “God! You’re beautiful like this.”

“In only my regulation-issue briefs? I will make a note of that.” Spock giggled — giggled — before adding, “I must attempt to seduce you in this outfit sometime… in Sickbay.”

“Now I know you’re drunk,” Leonard declared, leaning back to gaze into Spock’s eyes with worry.

“I was only joking,” Spock countered. “I would never violate the dress code. It would set a bad example for the rest of the crew.”

“Oh, okay. That sounds more like the Spock I know. I was about to ask who you were and what you’d done to my Spock.”

A beatific smile lit up Spock’s face. “I am yours now?”

Leonard paused, startled by how happy Spock looked at the prospect. “Sure… if you want to be.”

“I do.” Spock slid his hands up to Leonard’s shoulders, then continued their path around his back to pull him into an embrace. “Very much.”

“Okay.” Leonard thought he might be dreaming. His head was foggy from exhaustion so everything had a hazy, dream-like quality to it. He also could not stifle a yawn. “C’mon, Spock… let’s get in bed. I’m about to fall asleep on my feet.”

“I would catch you if you did,” Spock assured Leonard as the Human pulled back the sheets and lay down.

“C’m’ere you sexy, pointy-eared Vulcan,” Leonard teased, holding up the covers for him.

Accepting his invitation, Spock crawled onto the bed — his usual grace and economy of movement gone, replaced by awkward earnestness — and plastered himself greedily against Leonard. His fingers traveled over Leonard’s skin again, feather-light touches that whispered of lust held in abeyance only out of consideration for the doctor’s weariness. His lips also sent thrills of anticipation through Leonard’s body as the Vulcan kissed his shoulder, neck, and jaw. At one point Leonard’s heart skipped a beat when he felt Spock’s tongue licking at his throat.

“Hot damn! I would’ve never guessed Spock was such a passionate lover,” Leonard mused. The discovery pleased him but, despite how hard his cock had grown earlier, his body was quickly giving in to its greater need for rest as he lay there in comfortable warmth. Still, he returned the Vulcan’s attentions by running his fingers through Spock’s hair, stroking down his spine, and groping his buttocks through the fabric of his underwear. Hearing Spock moan as he pressed even closer, his breaths turning ragged, was enough to satisfy Leonard — for now.

“G’night, Spock,” he murmured into one beautiful, pointed ear.

“Goodnight, Leonard,” Spock replied, stilling his restless hands.

Leonard was asleep in an instant.


Spock woke at his usual time in the morning with a headache pulsing in his cranium. Every heartbeat made the waves of pain reverberate — horrendous due to his fast Vulcan heartrate. He attempted some breathing techniques to alleviate it, then registered for the first time that he was not sleeping alone. It took him a few more moments to realize that the body next to him did not belong to Nyota. Disoriented, he squinted at his bedmate in the darkness and recognized Leonard’s masculine features.

The events of the previous evening flooded his consciousness, clearly etched into his memory despite his inebriation. Spock flushed a deep green at how shamelessly he had thrown himself at Leonard, almost ignoring the doctor’s calls for sane, responsible behavior. Of course he had been intoxicated at the time, but Spock was uncertain whether he could face Leonard after having put on such a profligate display.

He was tempted to creep away and nurse his headache (and humiliation) alone in his own room, but he was stopped by one thing: the hot, hard, and impressively large organ pressing against his stomach through Leonard’s underwear. It was a solid reminder of Leonard’s response to Spock’s unguarded question — that the doctor did, in fact, wish to pursue a physical relationship with him. And not merely physical, but romantic as well.

“I would want to date you properly,” he had said. Spock was frozen in place, doubtful yet wanting to believe the honesty of those words. The pounding in his head did not make it easy for him to think, but he was at least sure that he wanted — desperately wanted — to make love to Leonard. Even with his inhibitions fully restored, now that Spock had touched Leonard’s body and confirmed how strong, healthy, and attractive the other man was, he could no longer deny his lust for him. Just feeling the Human’s arms resting on his back, cradling him, caused desire to heat his blood. The anticipation of what Leonard might do with his massive erection made Spock’s own organ swell in anticipation.

So he stayed. Spock shifted to rest his ear on Leonard’s chest where he could hear the slower Human heartbeat, soothing in its cadence and regularity. He slid his sensitive hands down Leonard’s sides, reveling in his toned muscles. Where their legs touched, Leonard’s body heat was a welcome sensation for Spock. The contentment emanating from Leonard indicated that his dreams were happy. Spock kissed his chest, then licked it, enjoying the faint saltiness, and blew his hot breath on the damp spot to keep it from growing chill. He watched the hairs bending under his breath with mild interest, wondering how long it would be until Leonard awoke. When Leonard finally stirred, Spock looked up to meet sleepy gold-green eyes.

“Hey. You’re still here,” Leonard said, slurring a bit.

“Yes. Why would I not be?” Spock asked. His heart fluttered, knowing the answer.

“Thought you might’a run.”

Spock sat up, his face and body flushing with embarrassment. He did not want to admit that his first impulse had been exactly that.

“I wish to apologize for my behavior last evening,” he stated, eyes downcast. “It was… irresponsible and inappropriate, and I am grateful that you exercised better judgment than… I was capable of at the time.”

“Oh.” There was a pause before Leonard asked, “Does that mean… you don’t wanna… y’know…?”

If possible, Spock blushed even more.

“I… did not mean to imply that,” he managed.

“No?” Leonard responded in surprise. “So… you stayed because… you want this?”

Spock flinched involuntarily when Leonard’s hand touched his arm, startling him, but he did not pull away. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it might burst, but despite his nervousness, the warmth of Leonard’s large palm felt good. When the doctor’s other hand joined in to run over Spock’s bare skin, his breath hitched at the pure pleasure of the sensation.

“Tell me, Spock,” Leonard urged, his tone quiet and measured. “I need to know for sure… or, if you’re not sure, we can end this.”

“I….” Spock swallowed, his throat turned dry — and no wonder, since he felt as though his face were on fire. “I am certain… I want this. I want you.”

He gasped as he was gathered into Leonard’s arms and pulled close. On instinct, Spock reached back to embrace the other man. The tenderness he sensed from Leonard was seeping through his very pores, it seemed, from every place where their bodies were in contact. Spock released his breath, willing himself to relax, as he realized how tense he was. He reminded himself that he could trust Leonard. The Human had not taken advantage of him when it would have been ridiculously easy to do so — and when he could not have been blamed for it, since Spock had given his express consent. Leonard would not demand more than what Spock was prepared to give. Even now, his caresses were communicating affection more than lust, comfort more than desire.

“Leonard,” Spock murmured, turning to face him at last. The faint smile that greeted him was worth every bit of his burning embarrassment.

“There you are,” Leonard teased as he cupped Spock’s chin in one hand to hold it in place. “Good — your pupils aren’t dilated anymore, so the effects of the chocolate must’ve worn off.” He nodded in satisfaction before declaring, “In which case I have no compunction about doing this.”

Spock could have avoided the kiss if he had wanted to, since Leonard moved into it as slowly as a cadet performing his first docking maneuver — but Spock had no wish to avoid it. When their lips touched, he was already breathless with anticipation. Leonard kissed him carefully, savoring his Vulcan skin, lips only to start with, then using his tongue to coax Spock’s mouth open. Though his mind was numb from being overloaded with feelings, both sensory and emotional, Spock responded eagerly once he understood what his lover wanted from him. Reciprocating Leonard’s actions, Spock found the Human’s taste somewhat strong and noxious, but he recognized the lingering scents of chocolate and wine. He delved into his lover’s mouth, wanting more, until he was gasping for air.

“Sorry,” Leonard said, pulling back out of the kiss. “Probably should’a brushed my teeth first….”

“No,” Spock disagreed, “not at all, Leonard.” He wrapped one hand behind Leonard, his fingers combing up into his thick hair, before initiating the next kiss. It grew deeper and more heated very quickly as Spock put his knowledge of Human erogenous zones to good use. Leonard was also exploring Spock’s body with almost scientific methodology, his hands seeking out any areas that made the Vulcan squirm or moan. He discovered the lines below the shoulder blades soon enough; the spots — dimples, if he could see them — just above the buttocks and near the spine were next. Spock started when Leonard touched there, then he arched his back and keened when Leonard dug his thumbs in.

“Damn! So hot,” Leonard commented while squeezing Spock’s ass and pressing him closer to himself. Their two erect cocks rubbed against each other through their underwear, which Leonard irritably and clumsily began to remove. “C’mon, help me out here,” he demanded.

Spock hastened to comply, relieved to hear his lover out of breath as well. When both of their briefs had been cast off, dropped over the edge of the bed, Spock hesitated.

“What?” Leonard asked, his expression anxious. “Having second thoughts?”

“No!” Spock declared, then swallowed. “I am simply… uncertain… how to proceed.”

Leonard’s chuckle was amused but not unkind. “Well, it’s a good thing I know my way around the male anatomy, then,” he said as he lay back again and pulled Spock down with him.


It amused Leonard to no end — warmed his cockles, in fact — to see Spock so unsure of himself, awkward and almost shy. But when Leonard pulled him down to lie against him, their bare bodies in full contact, Spock lost no time in latching on to his lover’s skin, kissing, licking, and sucking Leonard’s neck as he worked his way up to the Human’s earlobe and mouthed it. The slight involuntary thrusts he made with his hips were purely instinctive. Leonard’s smile turned from warm to heated when he felt Spock’s cock pushing against his own, desperate for satisfaction. How to provide it was the only question. Leonard considered their options, then chose the one that would give Spock the most control since it was his first experience with another male.

“Easy, easy,” he gentled him, pushing him off a bit to make breathing room. When Leonard pointedly looked down at his crotch, Spock followed suit. “Let me hold us together — like this,” he said as he wrapped a skillful hand around their two cocks, applying just enough pressure for friction but not pain. “That feel good? Yeah?” He grinned at Spock’s affirmative groan. “Now I’ll put some lube on. They’ll slide easier that way,” he explained while reaching into his nightstand and grabbing the tube he had (thankfully) stowed in there for personal use. “There we go… a little dab’ll do ya….” He squeezed some onto their cocks and smeared it around, making sure to apply an ample amount to the undersides where they would rub the most. “Okay, now you thrust. Start slow and build up gradually — I’ll hold on down there so you can brace yourself. Comfortable? All right, just do what feels good to you.”

As Spock began moving, his eyes narrowed in obvious enjoyment of the novel sensation, his little pants of pleasure drove Leonard insane, but the older man willed himself to lie still and let Spock set the pace. The Vulcan penis was more supple than its Human counterpart, so every time it pushed up against Leonard’s head, it squished and molded around the lip, applying delicious pressure to the most sensitive area. Leonard struggled to focus on keeping his hands still even though he wanted to stroke them both. He could feel Spock’s rapid heartbeat growing faster as Spock’s thrusts also grew quicker and needier. Leonard’s need was building as well while he watched Spock moving above him, the Vulcan’s usually stoic face scrunched in intense concentration with beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was caging Leonard in with his arms, his hands set securely on the bed on either side of Leonard’s body, and Leonard realized that letting the other man take charge was not just polite — it was a definite turn-on.

“Dammit, I can’t last much longer,” Leonard thought as the urge to ejaculate became unbearable.

“Spock, I’m gonna—”

“Ahhh!” Spock cried out, interrupting Leonard and spurting green semen in long, powerful strands that reached Leonard’s chin and lips. A few drops landed right in his open mouth, startling him with an unexpected sweetness offset by mild tartness, like a fruit. He could not appreciate the flavor, though, since his own orgasm was taking him by storm. He grunted as he finally allowed himself to jerk off, rubbing Spock’s length along his until he also came, pushing up against the hot spongy firmness and dousing it with his come. A few pulses shot out onto his stomach but could not compete for distance with Spock’s — not that it mattered. The release was absolute ecstasy, as good or even better than Leonard had imagined it could be with Spock.

The Vulcan lowered himself onto Leonard’s chest, his arms quivering and spent from his climax, heedless of their combined issue which he spread across their skin. Leonard wordlessly grasped him before running one sweat- and lube-slicked hand in his perfect hair, disheveling it with immense satisfaction, and took in great draughts of air.

A small, happy “Mmm” down by his chest made Leonard smile.

“Good?” he asked, sure of the answer.

“Indeed. It was quite… enjoyable,” Spock replied, his breathing still labored.

“Good.” Leonard slid his hands over and around Spock’s rounded buttocks, reveling in the mewling sounds that leaked out of his lover’s lips. Spock had not moved since collapsing on him, apparently exhausted by their frottage session. Leonard shifted to get him into a more comfortable position and Spock made a weak attempt to assist before bonelessly melting against him. The fact that he was so trusting of Leonard made the older man feel downright protective — a feeling manifested in the way he wrapped both arms around Spock and held him close.

“You are… very considerate,” Spock mumbled into Leonard’s skin before kissing the little divot below his throat — the suprasternal notch. “I had assumed you would be skilled, due to your knowledge of anatomy… both Human and non… but I had not anticipated how… generous you would be.”

“Well, I’ve got a vested interest, you know, in keeping you coming back for more.” Leonard moved one hand to Spock’s upper back and the other to his lower, smirking at the helpless moans the Vulcan made when he rubbed both places at once. “And seein’s how this was your first time with another guy, I wanted to make sure it was memorable.”

“I assure you, it has been… and has exceeded all expectations,” Spock said, attempting to reciprocate by searching out the Human’s most sensitive erogenous zones. Leonard appreciated the thought but was not really turned on by Spock rubbing his waist and sides; he was more interested when Spock inserted his hands under his shoulders and kneaded the perpetually sore muscles connecting them to his neck.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” he told him, letting his own hands fall slack on Spock’s back and closing his eyes to enjoy the gentle massage. He smiled when he felt Spock’s lips pressing against his chest, then his tongue tracing small circles on his skin. Leonard ran his leg up and down Spock’s calf by way of encouragement. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he murmured, although he hoped Spock wouldn’t quit just yet.

“I know… but you’re so stiff here. It must be painful.”

“Yeah… working a double shift will do that.”

“Do you use muscle relaxants to alleviate the tension?” Spock asked, sitting up and straddling Leonard to better grip his trapezius.

“If it gets bad, yeah… but I try to avoid self-medicating.”

“Why don’t you ask one of your coworkers to examine you?”

Leonard would have shrugged but he didn’t want to interrupt Spock’s hands from working their magic. “I dunno… professional pride, maybe. And usually it’s not this bad — I just happened to have a lot of patients requiring extensive dermal regeneration yesterday.”

“Mmm.” Spock pressed his thumb into the pressure points on Leonard’s shoulders, eliciting a moan and a sigh. “If you will lie on your stomach, I can more effectively relieve the stiffness.”

“You’d do that?” Leonard opened his eyes in surprise.

“Of course,” Spock said and un-straddled him to give him room to roll over. “Why would I not?”

“Um… I dunno.” Leonard rolled onto his stomach as directed, still disbelieving his good luck. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“I admit I began this as an exercise in tactile sensuality,” Spock said, a frown coloring his tone but his fingers moving deftly over Leonard’s taut neck, “but having ascertained how much discomfort this was causing you — and having the means to remedy the problem at my disposal — why would I not apply it?”

Leonard could not think of a reply since he was in a state of blissful euphoria. He simply whimpered in contentment as Spock manipulated his muscles, dissolving the tension and pain. Even after he was completely loosened, Spock continued to massage him for a few minutes. Leonard was close to snoring when Spock stopped.

“Thanks,” Leonard said after taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Oh, man… that was the best thing ever!”

“I’m glad to have been of service,” Spock replied, lying down beside him and running his fingertips lightly down Leonard’s spine. “If you should ever need this again, please don’t hesitate to ask. It is an easy enough problem to fix and I am happy to do this for you.”

Leonard turned so he could look at Spock. “Thanks. I might just take you up on that, you know.”

“I hope you do.” Spock reached out to touch Leonard’s face, stroking his thumb across his lower lip. “I don’t want you to live with this kind of discomfort… not when I can help it.”

“Okay.” Leonard smiled and kissed Spock’s thumb. The ensuing gasp and green flush on Spock’s cheeks made Leonard raise an eyebrow. “What? Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Spock answered, his skin turning even darker. “It’s just… a Vulcan’s fingertips have almost twice as many nerve endings as a Human’s.”

“I think I might’ve read that somewhere,” Leonard drolly responded and grabbed Spock’s hand. “But does that mean… it’s a good thing?” He coupled his question with another kiss to Spock’s fingertips.

“Y—Yes,” Spock managed, his eyelids fluttering. “In this context… yes.”

Leonard proceeded to lick Spock’s long fingers one at a time, from the base to the tip, transfixed by the look of sheer ecstasy on Spock’s face and the heavy breaths that he panted out. When Spock’s eyelids closed, seemingly on their own, Leonard placed both index and middle fingers all the way into his mouth and sucked.


Spock’s eyes flew open but he could not form any words — all he could do was stare at Leonard’s mouth as it made obscene slurping noises around Spock’s digits, but his hungry expression appeared to be begging for more. Leonard grinned at the reaction he had dragged out of the ordinarily reserved Vulcan and crawled over to lie on top of him. Spock’s cock had engorged to its fullest extent already and lay throbbing on his abdomen, so Leonard wantonly slid his own stomach over it. Spock groaned and arched his back, thrusting his cock against the Human’s warmer body in desperate need. Leonard took the length in his other hand and gently pulled up along the shaft, rubbing the moist head along his own skin, while continuing to lick and suckle Spock’s fingers.

“Mmm… Le—Leonard….”

“Mmhmm,” Leonard hummed around the fingers, then sucked them dry as he eased them out. “You like that?”

“Yes! Ohhh, yes….”

Bracing himself with one hand, Leonard leaned up to kiss Spock on the lips, sucking lightly on them before moving across his face to one ear, where he exhaled a hot breath across the shell. Spock gasped and bucked up again, so Leonard tried licking the edge of his ear from the lobe to the pointed tip. When Spock clutched him with all four limbs, shuddering, Leonard knew his lover was close to climax.

“Hold that thought,” he murmured before scooting down to bring his mouth level with Spock’s cock. He flicked the tip of his tongue over the meatus, causing Spock to writhe and mewl. When he ran his tongue around the rim of the cockhead, Spock’s flailing legs wrapped around Leonard’s torso and his hands found purchase in the Human’s hair. Leonard smirked, delighted to evoke such a shameless response, but Spock could not see it because his eyes were squeezed shut. For the finale, Leonard stroked Spock’s perineum with two fingers while pulling up on the shaft with his other hand, then placed the head in his mouth and sucked. Spock immediately came undone.

“Ah! Ah! Ahhh! Ahhhnnnggghhh!!!

The cries tore out of Spock’s throat with no chance for censorship or volume control. His semen also shot out, hard, in long spurts that filled Leonard’s mouth, but this time the doctor was able to savor it and recognize its sweetness. He swallowed it without concern, knowing that Spock had a clean bill of health, and added a last touch by thoroughly licking his entire cock to clean it. Spock whimpered, his thighs twitching, but was unable to do more than lie limp.

“Well… at least you look relaxed now,” Leonard teased as he crawled back up along Spock’s torso. Seeing Spock sated and nearly comatose with pleasure satisfied Leonard in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He kissed Spock’s cheek — not wanting to interfere with his still-labored breathing — and settled against him. A moment later, Spock’s hands sought out his and their fingers seemed to intertwine of their own accord, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“As I had mentioned earlier,” Spock began, then sighed happily before continuing, “you are a very… considerate lover. But I’m afraid… I have been inattentive. You have not yet achieved orgasm this time.”

“No worries, Spock,” Leonard told him, meaning it. “It’s a treat just to see you like this.”

Spock tilted his head inquiringly. “How so?”

“What, you don’t think it’s rewarding to see you — of all people — lose control and come hard enough to almost pass out?” Leonard chuckled. “Knowing that I managed to reduce you to a hormonal mess? That’s about as damn rewarding as it gets! Not to mention a huge ego boost.”

Spock’s lips parted as he processed this information, his mind working slower than usual, so Leonard took advantage of it to kiss him, worming his tongue into Spock’s oral cavity. The Vulcan returned the overture with great enthusiasm, his legs tangling around Leonard’s and his hands grasping him to pull him down. Leonard felt a blush spreading from his face to his neck as his neglected cock expressed its interest again, pressing hard against Spock’s thigh, but he ignored it in favor of tongue-wrestling with his avid lover.


“So… regarding those… options,” Spock panted out after finally freeing his mouth, “which one… do you wish to… attempt?” When Leonard did not respond right away, distracted by the unique folds of Spock’s ear that he was licking, Spock flipped him onto his back to get his attention. “I need to know, Leonard…. I could attempt to imitate what you so exquisitely demonstrated on me, but… having very little experience in the procedure, the degree of my success will be dubious at best. And I wish to ensure that you garner as much pleasure and satisfaction as you have afforded me.”

Looking up at Spock, who was crouched over him and gazing at him in complete earnestness, Leonard smiled with wry humor.

“I don’t doubt your success, Spock — it would be worth it just to see you try — but… I’m sorta wondering….”

“Yes?” Spock prompted when Leonard trailed off.

“Well… it’s entirely up to you… and I don’t want you to agree to it just because you think you should.”

“Agree to what, precisely?”

Leonard licked his lips, hesitating. “Okay. But you have to promise you’ll be honest.”

“Of course. A Vulcan does not lie.”

Leonard nodded at that. “Right. So… how would you feel about… anal penetration?”

“Oh.” Spock blinked. “I see. You wish to penetrate me?”

Only if you want to.”

“I believe that is a logical step in furthering our relationship,” Spock calmly replied. “It was one of the many options I had considered when deciding to engage with you in a physical manner. I…. Yes, of course. I would be happy to experience that form of intimacy with you.”

“Yeah?” Leonard could not hide his relief. “But if you want to stop, just say the word, all right?”

“Leonard,” Spock chided, “I am capable of making my own decisions.”

“I know. But I want you to know that it’s okay to change your mind… if it gets too uncomfortable or embarrassing.”

“I understand. And I am confident that you will keep me from incurring any serious injuries. However, a Vulcan’s muscle tissue is notably different from a Human’s — the most pertinent aspect being, it is much more pliable.”

“Uh… I guess I knew that,” Leonard replied, wracking his brain. “I mean, it’s quite a bit stronger and denser….”

Spock nodded. “And also, due to Vulcan’s arid climate, there are distinct differences in our digestive system — our bodies absorb a much higher percentage of moisture from our food. The waste material is almost completely dry.”

“Really?” Leonard frowned, unsure where this was going. “Then… how do you…?”

“Our gastrointestinal tract secretes a lubricating fluid,” Spock explained, causing Leonard to gape at him in surprise. “So I believe your worries are unfounded. My anatomy should allow for anal penetration much easier than a Human.”

“Why isn’t this stuff in the medical texts?” Leonard fumed. “As your doctor, this is information I need.”

Spock sighed. “I regret that my species is… not the most forthcoming with information… especially of a private nature. Since this affects how same-gender consorts engage in intimacy, it is considered to be… sexual information….”

“And so it’s taboo to discuss with off-worlders,” Leonard finished for him. “That’s a sad excuse for keeping the entire medical community of the Federation in the dark! What if you — or any other Vulcan — develops a GI abnormality? Polyps or cancer will affect your fecal output, but if we don’t even know what your baseline is, we could misdiagnose or overlook a serious problem.”

“Perhaps you could publish a paper on the subject,” Spock suggested. “You may study my anatomy. Although I am not a full-blooded Vulcan, it should provide you with some basic information. I have already signed my consent for disclosure to Starfleet Medical, so it is no violation of my privacy.”

“Well… that’s very generous of you,” Leonard said, pleased.

“It is logical,” Spock replied. “As you say, it is vital information for healthcare professionals. With so few Vulcans left — including doctors — it is likely that we will have to rely on physicians from other planets with more frequency.”

“Yeah.” Leonard ran his hands up Spock’s sides but was startled when Spock shivered under his touch. “Sorry! Are my hands cold?”

“Just the opposite,” Spock told him. “They are very warm and… my ribs are a particularly sensitive area.”

“Oh!” Leonard glanced down to see that Spock was already half-hard again. “Well, enough shop talk. I’d rather do a personal, in-depth study of a certain handsome specimen of the Vulcan species,” he remarked with a sultry smirk.

Spock blushed as he asked, “How shall we proceed?”

“Well… self-lubricating orifices notwithstanding, I have to make sure it doesn’t cause any discomfort. Extra lube is probably not a bad idea… and I should loosen you up with my fingers first.”

“How do you want me positioned?”

“Let’s try it this way for starters,” Leonard said as he slid both palms down Spock’s backside to his buttocks. “Just lie down on me and relax.”

While Spock complied, Leonard groped for the lube on his nightstand, then applied it liberally to his right hand. With his left he spread open Spock’s cheeks before gently rubbing the tip of his slick index finger around the entrance. He could not see what he was doing but his movements were sure nonetheless.

“How does that feel?”

“…Embarrassing,” Spock confessed. “I have… never been touched there — in this manner — before.”

“I know it’s really personal… in a strange way more than having your cock touched,” Leonard agreed, “but it’ll get easier once you get used to it.”

“Mmm,” Spock acknowledged, his mouth planted on Leonard’s clavicle. He found he enjoyed the taste of the Human’s skin, lightly flavored with sweat. He also realized that Leonard was still fingering the pucker of his anus very carefully, remaining on the outside. “Leonard… you may penetrate me without concern for injury — the fecal pellets I am accustomed to passing are at least three centimeters in diameter.”

“Oh! Okay, so one finger should be no problem.” Leonard slid it in, relieved to find no resistance. He probed deeper around the inside of Spock’s cavity. “How does this feel?”

“Like you have a finger inside me,” Spock replied tartly. “I am not some delicate flower, Leonard — you can insert two without causing damage. If the passage is too tight, I can adjust it.”

“You have voluntary control over your muscles there?”

“Of course.”

“It’s not ‘of course,’ Spock; most species can control when they defecate but not the individual muscle movements that make the process possible.”

“Ah. Then it is fortunate that Vulcans are trained to control each muscle group in the body at will.”

Leonard could not suppress an eye-roll at that, but he pulled out his index finger so he could reinsert it and his middle finger together. To his amazement, he could feel Spock loosening his sphincter to accommodate the intrusion.

“Is it still comfortable?”

“Yes.” Spock smiled against Leonard’s chest and pulled his fingers in further.

“Whoa! Did you just…?”

“When I said I have complete control over my muscles, I was not exaggerating.”

“I guess not!” Leonard was impressed even further when Spock undulated his anal passage to push and pull the fingers in a passable imitation of sexual thrusting. “Okay, okay, I get it — this is child’s play for you. But I have to point out that my cock is a little bigger than two fingers.”

“You are correct; however, I do not believe it poses an insurmountable difficulty. If you proceed with the penetration, I should be able to sufficiently adjust my body to accommodate it.”

“You sure?” Leonard asked, still hesitant. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Spock.”

“I am quite sure,” Spock assured him, but he paused upon seeing the concern furrowing the doctor’s brow. “Leonard,” he said, placing a kiss along his jaw, “I know you would never hurt me intentionally. You need not worry so much.”

“Okay.” Leonard swallowed. “But just to be safe, you take charge of the penetration, okay? Straddle me like this so you can control the speed and depth — that way if it hurts, you can stop right away.”

“If you wish. Though I still maintain that your precautions are unnecessary.”

“I insist. It’s always better to err on the side of caution,” Leonard stated.

While Spock sat up on his knees and adjusted his position, Leonard applied another generous dose of lubricant on his own cock, slicking it thoroughly. It had remained half-erect during their discussion but had perked up in earnest when Spock had demonstrated his anal dexterity on Leonard’s fingers. Leonard held it upright as Spock lowered himself onto it. The moment the head slipped in, a groan of bliss escaped Leonard. Spock was every bit as tight and hot as Leonard had expected, and his passage was literally sucking the cock in on its own, contracting and releasing in waves that sent thrills of pleasure through Leonard’s entire body. It took enormous effort to not thrust when his cock was being stimulated in such a novel, irresistible way.

“Ungh,” Spock moaned as he pulled his lover’s cock in deep. Soon it was seated until the balls were flush against Spock’s buttocks, but still he continued to draw it in further, forcing the balls to press into his soft flesh.

“Oh, God!” Leonard cried out. “I can’t… I have to move! Spock — dammit! — is it okay? I won’t hurt you?”

“Please, Leonard — do not hold back,” Spock said, sensing Leonard’s raging lust through their physical contact. “You will not hurt me.”

Leonard did not need to be told twice. He began thrusting up into Spock, gripping the Vulcan’s waist. The heat and tightness and slickness surrounding his cock was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. Looking up and seeing that it was Spock — the one person he had always longed for but had never expected to have a chance with — made it pure joy. And to know that Spock wanted him, wanted to have him inside him like this, was almost unbelievable. Leonard could not decide which was more beautiful: the sight of his cock plunging into Spock’s ass or the look of delight on Spock’s face as he panted above Leonard, obviously enjoying having sex with him. He wanted to remember both for as long as he lived.

Spock was pressing his body down in time to Leonard’s thrusts to deepen their joining, experiencing not only the new sensation of being penetrated by another man’s penis but also Leonard’s excitement and pleasure at penetrating him. Spock’s own penis was bouncing around from the movement, so he focused on clenching the muscles that caused erection to make it stiff and hard again — although it still bounced, it did not flop around as much when fully erect. Then he returned his attention to the muscles of his anal passage, constricting them to provide more friction for Leonard, and also willed his body to secrete more of its natural lubricant so the friction would not become harmful.

“Fuck! Oh, fuuuccckkk….” Leonard gasped as his movements grew faster. “Ohhh… Spock!”

Sensing his lover’s needs even without verbal explanation, Spock stilled Leonard’s motion for a moment and gripped his cock tightly, then rolled them both until they had switched positions again — Spock on his back with Leonard crouched over him, their union intact.

“Spock?” Leonard asked, his eyes begging for permission.

“Yes, Leonard,” Spock answered, his own voice raw and ragged. “I want you to… yes!” He threw his head back as Leonard took his invitation to thrust again. “Fuck me!”

“Yeah? You want it… hard?” Leonard teased, already bucking into Spock with the strength of his entire body.

“Yes! Yes… I want it… I want you… hard.”

“Fuck… fuuuccckkk….”

Spock knew Leonard’s climax was near — it was egging on his own, building up the pressure at the base of his cock as his semen prepared for ejaculation. As the deep heat of lust took hold of Spock’s mind, he could no longer control his anal muscles, but he no longer needed to. Leonard was stimulating both of them quite adequately, Spock discovered, since the sensation of being impaled by the Human’s hot, thick cock was pleasurable in its own right; it gave Spock a sense of being filled, fulfilled, and satisfied. Realizing that Leonard desired him this way — desired to merge their bodies and make Spock the receptacle of his passion — was inexplicably but undeniably gratifying. The friction of the cock’s movement was also creating a pleasurable warmth within him, stoking the coals of Spock’s ancestral fire.

“Oh, God!” Leonard grunted, his thrusts becoming frantic. “I’m gonna… come! Spock!

“Yes! Yes, Leonard — come inside me! Fuck me! Fuck meee!

Spock arched his back as he felt Leonard’s semen flooding his passage in long, hard spurts. The man was so deep — so incredibly deep — inside of him that Spock thought their bodies could never be separated again. Engulfed in the pleasure of Leonard’s orgasm, Spock began ejaculating as well, his cock twitching and striping his belly with green-tinted come. He cried out with each crest of ecstasy, not realizing that he was gripping Leonard’s upper arms with full Vulcan strength, enough to leave bruises. He mewled in bliss as Leonard continued to thrust through his climax and beyond. Having Leonard’s cock pushing inside of him was the best thing he had ever experienced. Even without the benefits of sexual climax and satisfaction, it allowed him to feel all of Leonard’s love toward him: his passion and his tenderness. As the fever of their lovemaking cooled into the warmth of a fond embrace, Spock realized this was all that he had ever wanted — all that he would ever need.

“Leonard?” Spock whispered.

“Yeah?” Leonard placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I… I love you.”

Leonard froze for a moment before he could reply. “You… do?”

“Yes.” Spock looked up into his eyes. “Does that seem strange?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But you know what’s even stranger?”

Spock raised his brows in tacit inquiry.

“I love you too,” Leonard confessed. He was surprised by the hunger with which Spock kissed him, but all thoughts fled as they deepened their kiss.


The pre-dawn wind was bitterly cold as we trundled the crates of fish to the co-op market by the docks. The small fry had already been distributed to the crew, and once the salable fish were delivered, Kazu went home to cook our breakfast.

gyokou 2

I hadn’t known Kazu before the disaster. After, we met while cleaning up the debris. We’d decided to pool our resources and buy one new boat with the insurance payment for our two destroyed old boats. Our crew were all seasoned local veterans and we were slowly rebuilding the livelihood we had lost. The lives we had lost — our parents, wives, children — we tried not to think about too much.

One night when we were somewhat drunk, he’d placed a hand on my thigh at the noodle shop. I didn’t move away. It had felt good to be touched again. When he hinted that he wanted more, I invited him back to my place, the temporary housing five doors down from his. It was a totally new experience for me but somewhere between the lust and pleasure, I realized it was exactly what I needed.

gyokou 1

Finished with the sales, I hurried home in the early morning light. The aroma of grilled fish and hot soup and rice greeted me. As we ate, I turned on the TV. The talk show panelists were discussing the progress of restoration in our area. I changed the channel.

Tired but with full bellies, I washed the dishes while he relaxed for a bit. Then he drew the curtains to block the sunlight and spread out our futon. I joined him a minute later, backing against his warmth.

“You wanna?” I asked.

“Nah. Not today.”

He held me tightly, though, and that was enough. I had everything I needed.

If Sickbay Walls Could Talk

Star Trek — Smutty Spones drabble! After Amok Time so technically TOS but could also work for AOS if you want it to.


Spock strode into Sickbay with purpose and, seeing that there were no patients at the moment, nodded brusquely to Chapel.

“Nurse Chapel, if you will excuse us,” was all he said.

Chapel walked out with a small huff. This had been happening with annoying regularity ever since Spock had commandeered the Enterprise and mysteriously insisted on going to his home planet. She had a fair idea what was happening between him and Dr. McCoy but she didn’t really want to think about it.

“Spock, give me just a minute,” McCoy said as he tried to finish the report he was writing. Before he could react, he was hauled out of his chair by the Vulcan’s stronger-than-Human arms and propelled toward the nearest wall. “Now wait, dammit! You can’t just barge in here and—” the doctor sputtered, but his words died in his mouth when he felt his trousers shoved roughly down his hips. A moment later a cool, slim finger was penetrating him, finding his prostate with unerring accuracy. All McCoy could do was gasp at the sensation and brace himself against the wall.

Even in his haste, however, Spock was not unkind. His finger was soon augmented with lubricant, and as McCoy’s body relaxed under his touch, another slick finger was added. By the time a third had joined the others, McCoy was mewling wantonly, his ass sticking out as though begging for more. Spock did not disappoint. He replaced his fingers with his cock, green and engorged to the last nub, and began fucking McCoy with abandon.

The nubs of the Vulcan penis were designed to stimulate ovulation in the female, but when inserted into a Human male’s anus, they stroked the prostate and produced intense pleasure. McCoy was quickly reduced to a drooling, wailing mess, pushing back against Spock in time to his thrusts for deeper penetration. Spock ripped the doctor’s shirt in his eagerness to bite his shoulder — an instinctive mating behavior — and clamped down until he drew blood. He gripped McCoy’s hips tightly enough to leave bruises as he pounded into him.

McCoy was pushed over the brink by the relentless stimulation, crying out insensibly as he striped the Sickbay wall with his cum. Spock growled when he felt his mate clench around his sex, then released his own cum deep inside the Human. They stood there for several minutes, panting and unable to move, while they both came down from their hormonal high. Spock recovered first.

“Forgive me, Leonard,” he whispered, his voice husky and low in McCoy’s ear. “I could not wait until your shift ended.”

“So… you find me irresistible, do you?” McCoy teased, chuckling.

“Indeed I do,” Spock admitted freely.

“Well, it’s a good thing I find you pretty damn irresistible, too.”

Spock pulled out at last, his cock tethered for a moment to McCoy’s gaping hole by a string of viscous green fluid.

“I will clean and sanitize this area while you finish your work,” he said. “And I will also retrieve a new shirt for you. My apologies. May I use the dermal regenerator on your wound?”

“Don’t bother, Spock,” McCoy replied with a wry smile. “I’ll catch it later after you put another one on the other side.”

Spock swallowed hard, desire already beginning to burn within him again.

Persistence of Interest

Harold tapped his keyboard, editing a particularly tricky bit of code. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice the tall shadow passing over him not once, not twice, but three times before coming to a stop. Startled, he looked up at the man who had sat down next to him on the park bench.

“You come here often,” the stranger stated. “I see you every day around this time. Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“I’m coding,” Harold replied, trying not to sound inordinately peeved – just enough to inform the stranger that he was interrupting and unwelcome. “Unless you’re a coder yourself, it wouldn’t make any sense.”

The man pursed his lips and made a faint nod as though conceding Harold’s point. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee.” Harold turned back to his laptop.

“Pop, then?”

A part of Harold’s mind flagged the word as non-native to New York, where carbonated beverages were usually referred to as sodas.

“No, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’m a bit… preoccupied at the moment.”


Without another word, the man left. Harold surreptitiously glanced up at his retreating figure, relieved to be left alone. Human interactions had never been his forte and he had no idea what he had done to invite such unwanted attention.

Fifteen minutes later, he had finished the coding. He watched in satisfaction as the test simulation ran smoothly, even allowing a self-indulgent smile to curl his lips.

“I hope you like vanilla,” a voice came from above him. Harold gaped at the stranger who had reappeared on the sidewalk, holding two ice cream cones. “But if you don’t, you can have the chocolate.”

“Ah… Well, actually… I do prefer vanilla.”

“I thought you might.” The persistent man’s smile was as warm as it was shy. He handed Harold the vanilla cone before settling next to him on the bench again. “I don’t mean to bother you… but everybody likes ice cream, right?”

“I’ve never met someone who doesn’t,” Harold replied while taking in the man’s appearance: dark, nondescript suit; well-worn shoes; a self-effacing air that suggested the Secret Service or some other government agency that valued the ability to disappear in a crowd. Harold tensed, wondering if his past had finally caught up to him.

The stranger licked his chocolate ice cream from the side to the tip, obviously enjoying it. Harold realized his own was melting and hurried to lick around the rim of the cone before it dripped on his laptop.

“I really don’t mean to intrude, but I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner sometime,” the man asked after a moment.

“You don’t know me,” Harold countered, though not unkindly. He’d noticed the flush creeping up the other man’s neck and blossoming in his cheeks. He was also quite sure that if a law enforcement officer had discovered his true identity, he would not be asking him out on a date.

“I’d like to try,” the man said, then took a bite out of his cone.


The man shrugged. “I don’t know. Call it a hunch… an intuition. I like your face.”

Harold couldn’t suppress his snort. “You have a strange taste in faces, Mister…?”

“Reese. But please call me John.” The man’s eyes sparkled in delight as he turned to look at Harold.

“Harold.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Harold Wren.”

“Hi, Harold.” John’s smile grew in brilliance. “So… can I interest you in dinner?”

“Well….” Harold considered the matter. Or at least, he told himself he was – it was hard to think with those deep eyes looking at him so expectantly. In the end he nodded. “Why not? Seeing as how we’ve already had dessert.”



A/N: In this AU, John is on leave from his CIA job and looking for a little romance. Of course Kara would find out about Harold and try to tell John not to get attached, but after Ordos John would come back to Harold. Harold would have figured out about the DV victims sooner and prevented Jessica from getting killed, so John would have moved on from her naturally.


“Get down, Detective!” Elias warned before getting into the car prepared for him. His own man had already been shot and killed by Dominic, who in turn had been shot by an unknown and unseen assailant. Elias knew he was next, so the bullet that pierced his shoulder did not surprise him. What did surprise him was the lack of pain. He could feel where he had been hit, but a strange numbness – a sense of detachment – blunted the edges of his consciousness. This must be the end, he thought while slipping deeper into the haze.

“Hey, Boss,” came a familiar voice. “Don’t worry – it’s gonna be okay.”

“Anthony!” Elias cried with relief and unfeigned joy. It had been too long since he had last seen his friend’s face, which was now smiling down at him with that familiar lopsided smirk. Elias choked back his emotions and swallowed before managing to say, “You came back for me.”

“No, Boss,” Anthony replied, his voice gentle. “I never left.”

Elias nodded, feeling whole again for the first time in what seemed like ages. “It’s just the two of us now, isn’t it?” he asked. It was also a reminder.

“Yeah… just the two of us… Carl.”

The laugh that slipped out of Elias shook loose his tears.

“It’s gonna be all right, Carl,” Anthony repeated, then bent to press his lips to Elias’ forehead.

“I know,” he answered and smiled.

Personal Update

Some of you have asked where I’ve been since I haven’t updated much in the past couple of years. I know many of my longer work-in-progress fans have despaired of my ever finishing those stories, but I really do intend to write them, and now – at last! – I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Many of you know that I have a rare form of rheumatoid arthritis (RA) that responds only to biologic treatments (like Enbrel, Humira, and Orencia), which are heinously expensive even when you have decent insurance. I haven’t had good insurance since I quit my full-time translating job and went freelance – which was still the best decision I ever made and has helped lower my blood pressure and other health risks significantly – so my rheumatologist suggested that I volunteer for a new protocol being tested by a pharmaceutical company. Since I’d already participated in a similar study for a related drug (*cough* PhilMickelson *cough*), I was glad to do so. The best part: free meds! Since you’re sacrificing your body for medical science, they provide all the treatments and testing for free. Yay! 🙂

Unfortunately, for the past couple of years I have had a severe, prolonged case of writer’s block. Even when I knew exactly what was going to happen in the story, I couldn’t string the words together to construct it. I didn’t even enjoy reading anymore. I chalked the former up to the stress of not having regular work (that’s a whole ’nuther post) and the latter to the fact that I’d started proofreading, which made grammatical errors stand out even more and distracted me from the stories. Occasionally I’d manage to write a chapter or so, but even such short goals became grueling, uphill tasks.

Then a couple of months ago, my doctor’s office called to tell me that the test was being canceled. It was supposed to run for 5 years and it had only been 3 years and a few months. The reason? Too many patients were reporting the side effects of depression and thoughts of suicide. The pharmaceutical company decided that it was too risky to continue developing for the market – even though a lot of drugs have depression and suicidal thoughts listed as side effects, this one apparently was severe enough to make it a liability.

When they told me, it was like the proverbial light bulb going off in my head. No wonder I couldn’t write or manage to do anything creative! I’d been suffering a mild case of medically-induced depression. I’ve been off of the protocol drug for a few weeks now, and already I’m feeling a difference. The words flow more readily, even though I need to re-word and edit the heck out of them (something I didn’t have to do as much before), and I’m gradually trying to get back into the swing of writing again. 🙂

One thing I’m really thankful for, though, is that this new protocol cleared up my psoriasis. The other biologic treatment I’d taken before had kept the affected areas from spreading but had not been able to decrease the surface area. The protocol drug – which didn’t even get named before they canceled the research – made my skin clear up in just 3 days! I’d had patches of red welts on my face and neck and back for 15 years, and for the first time since I’d presented with psoriasis, I was able to see my own face in the mirror – not the disease! I’m especially glad that I was part of the test since, if no other pharmaceutical company decides to pursue developing this particular drug, it will never be available on the market. I am so blessed!!! 🙂

So now I’m just trying to get my current insurance company to let me go back to the previous biologic drug. They rejected it at first, of course, since it’s a lot more expensive than conventional pills (cheapskates!), but my rheumatologist has already filed an appeal, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

In other good news, I was finally able to pay off the last of my medical debt this week! This was for another thing entirely – I had called my then-insurance company (*cough* BlueCrossBlueShield *cough*) to make sure they would pay for a sleep study since I was sure I had sleep apnea. My dad had it, my brothers have it, and my mom could hear me stop snoring multiple times at night. The person who answered my call said yes, of course they would cover it as long as I could prove that I had apnea. Confident of the outcome, I went to get the sleep study done which – surprise, surprise! – proved that I did indeed have sleep apnea. The hospital billed my insurance… who promptly refused to pay because I hadn’t gotten “prior authorization.” 😦 It seems I ought to have had their representative provide a written statement, signed in the blood of their firstborn and calling a curse upon all their progeny if reneged, detailing which specific procedures they would pay for. Grrrrr…..

Long story short, I was stuck with over 8 thousand dollars to pay for out of pocket. Which, after working my considerable ass off (not that you can tell by looking at it) for the past 2 years, I have at long last managed to do. It is a very good feeling to finally be debt-free! Broke, yes, but that’s still an improvement. 🙂 And my mom – who, worried over my bouts of non-breathing, was the impetus for my getting the study done in the first place – bought me a CPAP machine (“Continuous Positive Airway Pressure” = basically a fan that pumps air into your nose so your airway doesn’t get blocked and prevent you from breathing) which has reduced my non-breathing bouts to less than a tenth of the previous frequency. As a result, my blood pressure has come down to a normal range, allowing me to stop taking the drugs for it (un-heard-of for most people – unless they have apnea and get a CPAP). I feel better rested, too, so all in all I would have to say it was worth it, despite the hassle and stress of the insurance company being a total jerk.

Anyhow, thanks for reading my long rant! I’d just like to advise you to always, always, ALWAYS get “prior authorization” before having any major or expensive medical procedure done. Oh, and if you think you have sleep apnea, do get it checked out – you’ll feel so much better once you start using a CPAP! And also, if you have the opportunity to participate in a medical research study, just do it! Seriously, it’s worth the time and effort. You might get in on a really good deal like I did, and even if you don’t, you’re contributing to our species’ medical knowledge.

Okay, rant over! Please stay tuned for more story updates! 😀

MFB55: Bliss

The two kings continued to couple late into the night, resting only enough to regain their breath before joining their bodies again to slake what seemed an insatiable thirst for each other. Like fledgling birds who had taken to the air for the first time, they reveled in their new-found joys, exploring the depths and heights of pleasure and delighting to find how easily, naturally, and freely they could soar. When at last they landed, it was with the gentleness of falling snow, their heated skin fitting together as though they had never been born as two separate creatures. It was bliss, purer and more powerful than they had known was possible.

Of course between their sweat-slicked bodies and combined issue, the sheets on Peter’s great bed were stained and soaked beyond any attempt at concealment, but they had no thoughts to spare for it. Both of the brothers were consumed by their passion, giving it free rein at long last. Although Peter had declared his staunch preference for joining with Edmund while facing him, after a few bouts with his legs spread wide, Edmund protested that the soreness growing in his hips was detracting from his enjoyment of their union, so Peter agreed to mount him from behind as he braced on all fours. They discovered to their mutual surprise that they could still contort to face each other, even kiss over Edmund’s shoulder, with the added delight of Peter fondling his lover’s manhood to know firsthand how he was responding to his attentions. He waited until he felt Edmund tremble and shoot out his release, then allowed himself to follow suit. With deep groans of satisfaction they sank to the mattress, still united, to lie panting in sated conviviality.

Peter kissed Edmund’s shoulder while clutching him to his chest, marveling at how perfectly they fit together and how wondrously smooth and warm the younger boy’s skin was against his lips. Edmund sighed and leaned back against his love, turning to claim those lips with his own. Minutes slipped by unnoticed as they savoured the sweetness of mutual adoration.

“Oh, Ed,” Peter murmured, unable to form his feelings into words.

“Mmm… Peter,” Edmund whispered in return, knowing exactly what he meant. He twisted round to nuzzle his neck and lick at the freckles that he knew were there, even in the darkness. Peter laughed at the ticklish sensation, then retaliated by licking his brother’s cheek, wondering if it tasted so delectable because of his beauty or some other innate quality. They both were seized by a fit of giggles, subsiding into a comfortable silence in which Peter stroked Edmund’s stomach and was rewarded by happy whimpers that swirled around his own insides like a swarm of bees – much like how Edmund had described his love-sick nervousness, only in a pleasant way, as though the imagined insects were contentedly and busily working at making honey. Peter kissed Edmund’s forehead, thinking he would never have his fill of kissing his precious, most handsome lover.

“Ed… I’m so glad… you let me do this.”

“As am I!” Edmund declared. “It’s no less wonderful for me, I’m sure.”

“I can’t imagine ever doing this with someone else… let alone a girl,” Peter confessed.

“You needn’t, you know.” Edmund took Peter’s hands in his own, playing with his fingers while he looked deep into his eyes. “I’ll always be willing to do this with you… and I’d much rather you didn’t get married… even if she’s the nicest girl in all of Narnia.”

Peter slipped one hand out of Edmund’s grasp to card through his damp, curly hair. The High King was overawed to realise that his dearest wish had been granted – that Edmund loved him with as much strength of feeling as Peter loved him – and was speechless for a moment. When he finally did speak, it was with conviction and resolve.

“Well, then… that’s settled.” He moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his brother’s lips. “I shall never get married, Ed… for I could never love anyone else as much as I love you.”

Stunned, Edmund stared back at Peter, reading the surety there in his eyes.

“Oh, Peter!” he cried, disconnecting their bodies only to throw his arms about his lover. “You can’t possibly know… how happy you’ve made me!”

“I think I have a fair idea,” Peter replied with a smile curling his lips. They were soon smothered in another kiss, much deeper and more passionate than the previous ones, as the two young kings discovered just how much they could tell each other without the use of words. By the time they settled into a restful slumber, Edmund’s tears of happiness had been nuzzled dry by his now confirmed and unshakeable lover.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

The new dawn cast its first rays of golden light on the rumpled covers that Peter had managed to pull over Edmund and himself. They were a tangle of limbs, sticky and smelling of sweat and seed, but neither had slept so soundly before. The shrill notes of the dawn chorus, comprised mostly of male Wrens in the vicinity of Cair Paravel, woke Peter with the expectation of a glorious day. Finding Edmund nestled in his arms, his head pillowed on his chest, Peter was amazed anew to know that their coupling had not been a dream.

The evidence of their nocturnal activities was obvious, however, and removing it took priority over even the powerful physical desire to mate once more. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Peter began to gingerly extract himself from his brother’s embrace, but Edmund woke and rubbed his eyes.

“Hey-ho! Is it morning already?” he yawned.

“I’m afraid so. And we must get cleaned up before everyone else is up. We’re a frightful mess,” Peter told him. Edmund’s grin was untroubled.

“I doubt we can wash the sheets on our own, but Mrs. Dumplesugar will understand. She knows all about ‘Man Cubs,’ after all.”

Peter sighed but could not help but agree – at least with the first statement. The sheets on his bed were far too large for them to hope to wash and dry on their own, even in the bathtub.

“Well, let’s at least get ourselves washed and… presentable,” he advised, hunting for his nightshirt which had been discarded on the floor sometime during their passionate lovemaking.

Edmund grimaced at the state of his own nightshirt but put it on for lack of other options, then demanded a quick kiss of Peter before padding back to his bedroom for a clean set of clothes. He joined his brother in the bathroom to use the cooled bathwater from the previous evening to wash, both of them shivering but glad to at least smell less odious. The chill of the water quashed any chance of their joining their bodies again soon, but Edmund persuaded Peter to join him in his smaller, still-clean bed for a few minutes to warm up. They snuggled under the light summer blanket, listening to birdsongs and simply enjoying their newfound closeness, until they heard the light clopping of Mr. Tumnus’ hoofs in the hall. While the Faun first went to rouse Peridan, the brothers exchanged a last, lingering kiss, then Peter returned to his own room to strip the sheets off his bed.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

The two kings approached Mrs. Dumplesugar after breakfast – Peter blushing crimson with embarrassment and Edmund struggling to look equally abashed, due to his now immeasurable happiness – and confessed that they had both been overcome by their carnal desires while Edmund had been visiting Peter in his room. Peter could not bring himself to admit that he had chosen to mate with his own brother, not knowing what the Narnian Beast might think of such a perversion and not wishing to find out. Posed with the problem of the dirty bedding, however, the kind Raccoon only heaved a sigh and placed her paws on her hips.

“Eh! No more than I should expect of Man Cubs at your age, I suppose. At least you kept it to one bed rather than soiling them both.” She waddled over to the linen cupboard and pulled out several thick, sturdy towels. “But if you wish to save me the hassle of washing those great sheets so often, you can set these out when you start to feel the yearning. They’re much easier to manage.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dumplesugar,” Peter said with sincere gratitude. “We shall try to be more careful.”

“It wouldn’t be amiss to try to find yourselves some mates, either,” she pointed out. “I don’t know why you didn’t bring home one or two of the Daughters of Eve you met at Anvard.”

“Oh, golly, Mrs. Dumplesugar!” Edmund protested. “We’re much too young to be married yet!”

“Nonsense, my dear – if you’ve got the yearning, of course you’re ready to be married! What else is it for but to have cubs of your own?”

“I… I don’t think our kind is used to marrying quite so soon,” Peter explained. “We’re not yet grown up, you see. I’m only seventeen, and back home most chaps don’t marry until they’re at least two-and-twenty, after they’ve finished their schooling and all.”

“What? So you’ve near five more years of yearning without a mate?!” she cried out, aghast. “That’s unnatural, that is! And poor King Edmund must wait even longer?

“It won’t be so bad, truly, Mrs. Dumplesugar,” Edmund reassured her. “Now that we have these” – indicating the towels – “we won’t make such a mess all the time.”

“And you must remember that we can live a very long time,” Peter added. “Three-score years and ten, which is more than most Beasts, even in Narnia. So we must choose our mates with care.”

The Raccoon still looked astounded, her dark eyes opened wide in shock, but she threw up her paws in resignation.

“Well, then, you must do what’s wise and sensible, but if you’ll heed my advice – and mind you, I don’t say this for wanting less laundry, my dears – you ought not pass up any opportunities for meeting suitable Daughters of Eve. I say the sooner you find a good mate, the better, and the happier and healthier you’ll be.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, Mrs. Dumplesugar,” Edmund replied with a genuine smile. “I’m sure you’re right about it.”

“Yes, indeed,” Peter agreed, trying not to blush when his brother and lover turned that beautiful smile towards him. “I’m sure finding the right person to love is… the most wonderful thing in life.”

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That morning Sageion chose to instruct his young charges on the intricacies of the Narnian treaties with Calormen, and although Peridan found it interesting since he had lived in Archenland – which had its own treaties with the southern country and was more frequently visited by trading ships and caravans from there – Peter and Edmund could scarcely stifle their yawns as the Centaur droned on about the fair exchange of fruits for lumber and the current prices, in Calormene crescents, of various precious stones mined by the Moles and Dwarfs in Narnia. Peter managed to quell most of his yawns, but Edmund was forced to bury his nose in a book on Narnian history every so often as though he were looking up some reference in it. Both boys were glad and relieved when they finally broke for lunch.

Since the weather was mild and they had no appointments in the afternoon, the girls suggested a picnic in the meadow nearest the castle. The impromptu outing was quickly arranged, with each member carrying a share of the provisions. An added benefit to eating out of doors was that the Horses could come by and chat with them while munching on sweet grasses. The Centaurs were invited also but they politely declined; the two young kings’ difficulty in attending that morning had not gone unnoticed, and Sageion shrewdly judged it best to let them rest their minds and refresh their spirits for the remainder of the day.

After everyone had eaten his or her fill, it was very tempting to stretch out on the blankets and close one’s eyes, listening to the busy drone of the bees. Edmund fell asleep on the instant, leaving Peter to stare at his lissome, prone form. The very curve of his back sent thrills of desire through the High King, who suddenly realised that lying face-down was a good way to hide some embarrassing physical reactions. He followed suit and very soon started up a low, rumbling snore. The girls giggled and whispered so as to not wake their brothers, while Peridan asked Aristides and Phillip about the different wildflowers that were in bloom around them.

The music came to them so quietly at first, wafted on the breeze, that even keen-eared Mr. Tumnus did not notice it until it grew decidedly closer and louder.

“Pipes!” he breathed in delight when he caught a strain. “My cousins, the Satyrs, are out dancing!”

“And coming this way, it would seem,” Aristides remarked, flicking his ears forward the better to hear.

The two queens suggested that they go out to meet the dancers to prevent them from coming closer and waking their brothers, so the party left the sleeping kings in the care of Elsa the Panther, who preferred basking in the sun to dancing, and ventured into the woods in search of the musicians. They did not need to search long, for the Satyrs – about a dozen of them, though it was hard to count them as they whirled around in circles and figure eights – had chosen a grassy meadow near the edge of the Great Wood for their revelry. Mr. Tumnus flung himself into the dance at once, and before they quite knew how, the girls and Peridan were caught up in it as well. Even the Horses stamped their hoofs in time to the merry music, while Mrs. Hoppinger jumped around the outer circle and Mrs. Dumplesugar clapped her paws.

“What, friends, is the occasion?” Susan asked breathlessly during a slight lull.

“What occasion do we need to dance and make merry?” laughed one of the Satyrs. “It is summer, and a good harvest is sure to follow, and the wind is calling us to sing!”

“Although it is specially nice to have a full moon tonight,” added another.

Soon the troupe was joined by a handful of Dryads and the Naiad of a nearby spring, making the dance even more intricate. Peridan found himself paired with a young Satyr – judging from his beardless face and small, stubby horns – and was mesmerised by his nimble partner’s graceful movements and piercing, intense gaze. The Satyr, whose bare chest was thick and well-muscled, showed no signs of tiring even when Peridan grew winded, and his grip was strong as he guided the boy through complicated steps. When Peridan was forced to pull out of the circle to catch his breath, the Satyr followed.

“You are a Son of Adam, are you not?” the Satyr asked.

“Yes… I believe that is what you would call me,” Peridan replied, feeling a little shy. He had met many other Satyrs, even took swordfighting lessons from Apheridys, the Captain of the Royal Guard, but there was something slightly unnerving in the intent way this one was studying him.

“And yet you are not one of our kings, for I have met both of them.”

“I am Per – Sir Peridan, a Knight of Narnia and Squire to King Edmund.”

“Ah! I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Peridan. And I am Scipio, a humble pipe-maker of Fairdell,” he said with a courteous bow. “Did you also come from the world of Spare Oom with the Royal Children?”

“Oh! No, I came from Archenland,” Peridan explained.

Scipio seemed genuinely interested in the southern country, having never traveled that far himself, so Peridan described what life was like in Anvard and how he had come to Narnia. Then Scipio told him how he lived not far from the castle along the banks of the River Rush, harvesting, drying, and carving reeds to form pipes of all sorts for himself and his neighbors. They sat down with their backs to a large oak tree while Per recounted the battle with the Harpy in the Western Woods and Scipio told of the hardships his people had suffered under the reign of the White Witch. All the while the dancing and music continued, making Peridan forget the passage of time. When Scipio placed his hand on Peridan’s where it lay on the ground, the boy was startled, and yet when he looked into his new friend’s shining eyes, he felt as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I believe, if I may be so bold,” Scipio began softly, “that as young as you are, you are no stranger to pleasure…”

Peridan flushed, his face turning red-hot, but managed to answer, “I am… not so young as I may seem. And… yes, I am familiar with the ways of Men.”

“Ah! But are you familiar with the ways of Satyrs?” Scipio asked with a teasing smile.

“Not at all,” Peridan replied, feeling a familiar flutter in his stomach that grew down into his nether regions. He thought the Satyr, for all his wildness, was very handsome, and the strength in the hand that held his own sent surges of heat throughout his body.

“Would you like me to show you… a more… intimate dance?” Scipio whispered.

“Oh! Yes,” Peridan said without hesitation, surprising himself with his audacity. There was no doubt in his mind as to what the Satyr was suggesting; the very thought of it made his male member grow in anticipation.

Scipio led him quietly out of the glade and into the woods. The two queens did not notice their departure since they were discussing with Mrs. Dumplesugar and Mrs. Hoppinger the feasibility of having dinner served in the glade, and the Horses had wandered back to see whether the two kings were awake from their slumber. Mr. Tumnus, of course, was still engrossed in the dance.

Coming to a dense thicket of underbrush, the Satyr found a way inside and pulled Peridan after him. In the private space within the vegetation, the boy learned firsthand that a Satyr’s manhood is always erect – always ready for use – though well hidden in his goaty fur. It was a good bit smaller than most Men’s, which made it easier to bury in the thick pelt and also made preparing Peridan’s receptacle for it a quick affair. Scipio had a jar with salve for this very purpose; one daub smeared around the entrance of his passage was all that was needed before the entire length of the Satyr’s sword slipped in, easily and comfortably, with his rough fur scratching the bared skin of Peridan’s bottom.

“Oh!” he gasped as the hot, pulsing member began stroking within his body. Peridan was on all fours, incapable of pleasuring his own shaft, so his lover now gladly took on that task while he grunted and rutted against the boy’s soft arse. When Peridan cried out, having had his pleasure spot stimulated by the rod within, Scipio aimed his thrusts to continue hitting the unseen bullseye. Before long Peridan was babbling a string of nonsense as Scipio drove him to the heights of ecstasy from both within and without, and after pressing himself hard into the Satyr’s sturdy hand a few times, the young knight shot his seed out in long, satisfying stripes on the ground.

His clenching body was a joy to the Satyr as well – Scipio released his own seed deep inside of the boy, then continued thrusting while the fluid dripped out of his lax opening like so much clotted cream. Realising, however, that his Human lover was spent, Scipio pulled out of him long enough to turn him gently over and lay him on his back. Wondering at the boy’s now limp and useless member, the Satyr lifted Peridan’s legs upon his arms before penetrating his welcoming orifice again.

“I would dance this dance all night,” Scipio declared fervently.

Peridan could only moan in delight as his lover stroked that perfect spot inside of him, over and over.

Previous ‹‹‹‹‹ ж ››››› Next

Ending Headcanon

ending headcanon lodge

Reese awoke in a large, comfortable bed with a view of a vast prairie. The rolling hills and wide-open sky reminded him of Montana. Rising to his elbows, he saw that the bed had been moved into what seemed the living room of a log cabin, no doubt to enable him unrestricted access to the spectacular panorama through the floor-to-ceiling window.

Finch was in a reclining chair beside the bed and had just set down the book he had been reading.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, standing up stiffly and coming over.

“Fine. Harold… where are we?”

“Where do you think?” the older man asked with a teasing smile.

“Montana? Somewhere out West?”

“Close. It’s a little north of there,” Finch said before turning to the bedside table. Reese noticed the old-fashioned syphon coffee maker right away — it looked to have just finished brewing. The aroma tickled his nostrils as Finch poured it into a mug and offered it to him.

Reese sighed appreciatively after a sip. “I didn’t know you could brew coffee.”

“While I prefer tea myself, I have been known to make a mean brew on occasion,” Finch replied with a demure quirk of his lips. “Do you feel up to eating?”

When Reese answered in the affirmative, Finch busied himself in the kitchen, insisting that Reese stay in bed.

“You need to rest. You took quite a beating in your… last assignment,” Finch told him over the sizzle of steaks on a cast-iron skillet.

Reese searched his mind and caught vague snatches of a gunfight — the usual hail of bullets — but could not remember anything clearly.

“Did they give me sedatives?” he asked.

“And then some,” Finch confirmed. He must have had the potatoes roasting in the oven already since he was now plating the food and bringing it out. The garden salad had his signature sesame dressing on it and the green beans must have been steamed before being seared in the same skillet as the meat to make them tender and flavorful. Everything tasted delicious and Reese was happy to tell Finch so. As they finished their sumptuous dinner and looked out the window, enjoying how the sunset changed the sky to orange and then brilliant red, Reese felt more well-rested than he had in a long time.

“So… what’s next?” he asked, although he was not at all anxious to get back to the city.

“You rest and relax and recover,” Finch answered. “God knows I need the break, too. We’ll be safe here… for as long as we need to stay.”

Reese nodded in acknowledgement. He would be happy to stay here for a while. With Harold. Always with Harold.

“Where’s Bear?”

“He’s with Detective Fusco for now, but I also left him Mr. Tao’s contact information in case he needs to leave town.”

Satisfied, Reese settled back into his pillows. The sky was deepening from twilight to full, velvety night, twinkling with a million stars in the clear, unpolluted air. Finch gathered up their dishes and took them into the kitchen to wash, happily humming a tune Reese thought he recognized.

Reese was beginning to doze off when a loud clanging jolted him awake. The noise of a pan dropped on the wooden floor echoed through the high-ceilinged cabin.

“Sorry! I’m all right! Everything’s all right,” Finch called, scrambling to get the pan under control.

The sound — Finch’s voice — triggered something in the back of Reese’s mind. Something very similar had happened in the not-too-distant past… something where a loud noise had echoed…..



Reese was exchanging gunfire with his pursuers, dodging behind the concrete wall. He wanted desperately to get past them, knowing that a SWAT team had been sent to penetrate their subway hideout, where Finch was barricaded in and trying to manage damage control while also subverting their enemies’ online systems. Over their com, Reese heard banging noises.

“Finch! Are you all right?” he demanded.

“I’m all right, I’m all right — the barrier is holding,” Finch answered.

A moment later the sound of an explosion came through. Gunfire erupted on the other side of their connection, and there was a gasp.

“Harold? Are you all right? Are you hit?”

Finch drew in a ragged breath before answering, “I’m sorry, John… I’m afraid… this is goodbye…”

Reese was still under heavy fire but he ceased returning fire altogether. “Stay with me, Finch! Harold?! Stay with me!”

“John… I just want you to know…”

Abruptly their com was disconnected. Reese roared, a primal sound ripped from his bowels. In a haze of anger, he jumped out and started shooting at everything and everyone in sight…..



The memory was so vivid that it felt like it had happened only moments before. Reese threw off the covers as he jumped to his feet, pulling off his shirt to search for the bullet wounds that should be there.

Nothing. Not a scratch.

“Harold…?” he asked, turning to him.

“I’m sorry, John… I wanted to let you know… gently…”

Reese stared at him, not yet comprehending.

“We didn’t make it. Neither of us…”

Reese was stunned into silence.

“This, apparently, is Heaven,” Finch explained. “And what we did… what we tried to accomplish… seems to have counted for something, at least. I was given a choice — to go deeper, or to stay here and wait for you. I chose to wait.” His smile was a little sad, for the first time in this place. “You weren’t far behind.”

Reese looked around him and the cabin started to melt away, leaving them standing on the tundra. A cool breeze was blowing but, far from being uncomfortable, it was invigorating. Reese realized that his body — every single muscle — felt stronger and younger than it had ever been.

“Are you ready to go, John?” Finch asked, gesturing to the north. “There are people waiting to meet you… to meet both of us. In fact Ms. Arndt has sent multiple messages asking me to hurry you along.”

Reese gazed into Finch’s serene face. The lines of exhaustion, which had been growing more noticeable each year, had faded away. He looked to be at peace — truly at peace, with himself and the Universe — for the first time in his life.

“Harold… what we did… it mattered?” Reese asked. “It made a difference?”

“Yes, John. Despite our many failures… it mattered. We made a difference.”

The smile Finch gave him then was nothing short of beatific.

Reese nodded. “Okay, then. I’m ready.”

Harold smiled brilliantly and offered his hand. John took it, marveling at how solid it felt. As they began walking toward a point on the distant horizon where a star pulsed with golden light, he noticed that Harold was no longer limping. He squeezed his hand and felt laughter bubbling up from the core of his being.

“If this is Heaven… and if you’re with me… it was all worth it,” John told him.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harold agreed with a chuckle, tugging on John’s hand playfully. “And I’m so glad you took that job.”

John shook his head and laughed. “It wasn’t a job, Harold — it was a purpose!

“Yes, of course! A purpose. And somewhere along the way…” — Harold bashfully looked over at John — “I think we found something else, too.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, grinning. They didn’t need to name it; they both knew perfectly well what they had found.

Suddenly they were running, skipping, leaping, and even somersaulting across the landscape, all the while never losing their grip on each other. Soon they were moving so quickly that their feet scarcely touched the ground, then they weren’t at all. They flew toward the welcoming light.



MFB54: Consummation

When Edmund informed Per of his great discovery – that Peter was just as much in love with him as Edmund was with Peter – the young Knight was sincerely overjoyed for the Kings. Edmund also confided in him that he hoped to persuade his elder brother to indulge in full carnal pleasure with him, now that he knew Peter’s resolve was weakened by his charms, and he asked Per to help him prepare for the deed straightaway rather than waste time on lengthy explanations.

“After all,” Edmund noted, “it seems the sort of thing better learnt by experience than talk.”

He also knew that Per would be discountenanced with embarrassment if made to speak of the details much, and so he approached the process as matter-of-factly as he could. It was a messier undertaking than Edmund had expected (despite the particular bodily orifice involved) and had he been more squeamish he might have been tempted to give it up altogether. However, he had his heart set on the prize, so with Per’s encouragement and reassurances that the end result would be worthwhile, he plugged on. It was fortunate for them that Per had a new and rather large bottle of sword-polishing oil; even so, a good bit of it was used up by the time the Knight declared his Sire ready to be joined with a man of the High King’s girth and length, and Edmund’s nightshirt was hopelessly soiled. Since Edmund was planning to be soon rid of it, he used its hem to wipe dry the handle of Per’s dagger (which Per had ingeniously thought to use and had been an invaluable tool for their purpose) after washing it thoroughly.

“I cannot thank you enough for your assistance… and friendship,” Edmund told Per with heartfelt sincerity as they finished cleaning up the Knight’s room. “I am forever in your debt.”

“It is a small matter, Your Majesty,” Per replied, still blushing but with genuine pleasure. “I wish you both great joy in the consummation of your long-awaited desires. May it be all you have hoped and dreamed of, and more.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it will,” Edmund said with a grin before leaving.

‹‹‹‹‹ ж ›››››

When Peter returned to his room after his bath, he lay awake on his bed in the hopes that his brother – and now admitted love – would come to see him as he so often did. He was disappointed when long minutes went by and Edmund did not appear. Part of Peter’s mind still chided him for having engaged in what felt to him to be an illicit affair with his younger brother, and yet he could not find it in his heart to give up their newfound joy. Perhaps it was just as well that Edmund did not come tonight, he tried to tell himself, for if he should come Peter knew that he would not be able to resist kissing those soft, sweet lips; caressing that lithe, supple body; and grasping that proof of Edmund’s masculinity in order to hear his plaintive cries rising in helpless pleasure. And yet Peter’s body ached to do just that, his own manhood making its wishes clear by rearing its weighty head.

Since he was unable to sleep, anyhow, and Edmund did not seem to be coming, Peter hitched up his nightshirt to expose himself and took his throbbing shaft in one hand. All he could see, painted by his imagination on the dark canvas of his ceiling, was Edmund’s fair, delicate face as they had sought each other earlier that day. Remembering how his brother’s voice had issued in rapture, Peter stroked himself ever faster in an attempt to culminate his arousal; however, even his well-practised skill was not enough to bring him to completion. After having experienced the special pleasure of being joined in intimacy with another – especially with the one he had yearned for and loved for so long a time – his usual methods now paled by comparison.

Frustrated and yet unable to stop due to his body’s insistent demands, Peter continued stroking his kingly sword with half-hearted attention. His mind wandered back again to the first time he had helped Edmund with his male need and how small his brother’s silken shaft had felt in his hands. It had grown somewhat since then, as he could attest to from fondling it a scant few hours ago, but even so the size difference with his own served to remind Peter that Edmund was his younger by several years. Having had his responsibility as the eldest sibling drilled into him from infancy, Peter could not shake the sense that he had somehow let his parents down by succumbing to his lust for his brother. And so, conflicted, he was struggling in vain to achieve satisfaction when Edmund slipped in through the balcony door.

“Peter?” the younger boy whispered into the darkness. “I say, are you still awake?”

“Ed! I… yes,” Peter replied, blushing scarlet although Edmund could not see his present state from across the room. “I thought you had turned in by now.”

“Not likely,” Edmund chuckled, then walked over to perch on the edge of the large bed. “Did you think I wouldn’t come – tonight, of all nights?”

“I’d about given up, although I had rather hoped you would,” Peter confessed, fussing with his nightshirt to cover his manhood. To his dismay, even in the dim light of the room its dusky profile was visible under the sheer white linen. Edmund noticed it at once and laughed in lighthearted delight.

“Well then, it looks like I’ve come just in time! Honestly, Pete, what would you do without me?” he teased while crawling onto the bed and straddling his older brother’s hips. When Peter opened his mouth to protest, Edmund bent down to silence him with a kiss. They were both breathless by the time their lips parted, but Edmund wasted no time in peeling off his nightshirt and casting it to the floor. The pale starlight from the windows behind him gilded his profile in silver, inciting Peter to run his large, warm hands up and down his sides and back. Edmund moaned in appreciation.

“I have no idea what I would do without you,” Peter whispered, reveling in the smooth surface of Edmund’s skin. “Go mad with grief, I think.”

“Not to worry, Peter,” Edmund responded, leaning over again to shower his cheek with kisses. “You shall always have me… in every possible way!”

As he said so, he reached below to find Peter’s hardened sword, which he rubbed fondly for a moment as if testing its firmness. Then he rose up on his knees and placed the hot shaft between his nether cheeks, allowing it to slide along the canyon between. Peter inhaled sharply at the novel sensation while his manhood grew even harder.

“I don’t think it’s grief that you’re in danger of at the moment,” Edmund chuckled, slowly bouncing on his heels to rub his oiled cleft against his brother’s most sensitive organ. “But there’s no need to fret, for I have the solution to your problem!”

The younger king curled down into himself, the better to see what he was about, and positioned the tip of Peter’s great sword against his entrance. Per had warned him that the joining would be uncomfortable at first; however, Edmund trusted the other boy’s word implicitly and believed that the penetration would become pleasurable once his body grew accustomed to it. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his brother’s shaft into his oil-slicked passage.

“AH!” Peter cried out, startled to realise that his brother dared to go so far. The High King had dreamt about being thus conjoined with Edmund, both in his waking hours and sleeping, but in spite of the fact that they had confessed their love for each other, he had not expected Edmund to be so bold. Truth be told, he was not even sure how such a thing were possible, although he had once witnessed his schoolmates engaged in the very act. It seemed like an extremely painful proposition, and his worries were confirmed when he heard Edmund begin panting.

“Ed, don’t! Don’t go on if it hurts,” Peter begged, trying to forcibly lift him up off the offending member by gripping his hips. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You won’t. It’s all right,” Edmund assured him, taking in deep draughts of air and still holding Peter’s manhood firmly to keep it in place. “I just have to… get used to it. You’re so big! But it will work, never fear – I just need some time to push it in… slowly…”

Edmund pressed himself lower onto Peter, causing both of them to moan. The feeling of being filled was much greater – and more exciting – than it had been with his own fingers and the dagger’s handle. Not only was Peter’s sword larger, it was hot with blood and throbbing with desire. Edmund longed to be ravished by it but, heeding his Knight’s warning, he continued to push it in only by gradual increments. He was glad to feel his own body stretching to accommodate it just like Per had promised it would.

“Oh… Edmund…” Peter murmured, taking in his brother’s beauty through half-lidded eyes. He was driven nearly mad by Edmund’s slow descent upon his rampant organ. The primal urge to thrust, thrust, thrust was hammering in his mind, which he only barely managed to keep in check with the realisation that any sudden motion on his part might hurt his dearest love. The heat and closeness of Edmund’s passage was incredible. Even in his lewdest imaginings, Peter had not expected intercourse to feel so wonderful, and his only thought now was a silent plea for Edmund to make their joining complete.

Groaning and gasping, Edmund forced himself further down the massive shaft, trying as best he could to open himself up to allow it in. The worst was over, he knew, now that the bulbous tip had slipped past the narrow entrance; he simply needed to stretch the part within himself where he had not been able to reach before, even with his long fingers and the aid of the dagger. As he neared the last few inches of Peter’s length, Edmund arched his back, turning to face the ceiling, and aligned his passage to the curvature of Peter’s sword. With a final push he forced himself down upon it all the way to its hilt.


Their cries echoed for a moment in the room. Edmund had made sure to close the balcony door properly so that no sound leaked out, and he was glad now that he had. Having Peter’s skin flush against his own was a wonder and a delight; having Peter’s entire manhood buried completely within his body was nothing short of miraculous.

“Oh, Peter… so big… so wonderful!” he breathed.

“Ed, I… I think I… I’m going to… spill my seed,” Peter confessed, desperate urgency in his voice.

“Oh, yeah! Do it! It’s all right – I shan’t get pregnant,” Edmund encouraged. “I want to feel you shoot it out… into me.”

“But… I want to thrust.” Peter’s large hands, wrapped at first around Edmund’s hips to halt his progress, now gripped them hungrily.

“It’s all right, you won’t hurt me,” Edmund reiterated, pulling up a bit and pushing back down to prove his point. “You can do whatever you want now – I’m ready for you!”

With a sob of relief and gratitude, Peter began thrusting up into the tight heat that was enveloping his manhood. He was inside his love, touching him in places and in ways that no other ever had, touching Edmund’s inmost being with his sex, connecting with him in the ultimate form of love and passion. All because Edmund wished him to do so, desiring this conjoining of their bodies and hearts just as much as Peter had. It was almost too much; it was too much; and suddenly Peter felt his seed shoot up into his brother like a powerful, unstoppable geyser.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhh…

He continued to push up into Edmund’s welcoming warmth as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him. Dimly, he was aware of his issue slicking the passage and making the friction of his motions less noticeable, but as he was swept away upon the tide of lust, his only thought was to repeat that marvelous, most wondrous act, to experience it over and over again until he had no more strength left to move at all.

As for Edmund, perched astride his brother’s organ, he had not yet felt the heights of ecstasy which Per had described. He had, however, enjoyed the sounds their sweaty bodies made as they were repeatedly slapped together and had reveled in the sensation of Peter’s hot fluid flooding his deepest parts. That the High King had derived perfect satisfaction was obvious, and for now it was enough. Edmund lay down upon Peter’s chest and listened to his strong, rapid heartbeat, smiling when Peter embraced him tightly.

“Oh, Ed…”

“Was it good?”

“Good, yes. More than good! Amazing…”

They fell silent for a while, lying together clasped in each other’s embrace, until Peter shifted his hips. His manhood, still wedged inside of Edmund, was growing hard again.

“Um… Ed… Would it be all right…” Peter trailed off, unaccountably embarrassed.

“Of course,” Edmund answered without waiting for him to finish, thrilled to know that his lover desired him again. “How do you want me this time?”


“Per said there are many positions in which we can be joined,” Edmund explained. “I can get on all fours, or lie flat on the bed, and let you enter me from behind. Or I can lie on my back and spread my legs out to let you enter me from the front; he said it’ll be easier if I put a pillow underneath. Or, like we just did, I can ride you like a horse – either facing you or away from you.”

Peter considered all of these equally tempting methods, but there was only one way that he wanted to enter Edmund – the way he had seen his schoolmates doing it, all those years ago in England, which had given shape to his darkest fantasies.

“If… If you lie on the bed… with your bottom near the edge,” he proposed, feeling slightly shy, “I can stand on the floor and… enter you… quite comfortably, I think.”

“Oh! I suppose you can. Do you want me face up or face down?”

“Up, of course, my dearest Edmund,” Peter said, drawing him close for a wet, hungry kiss that left him breathless. “I want to see your beautiful face at all times! You needn’t ever ask me that again.”

“All right,” Edmund said, then grinned. “And you needn’t ask me ever again if it’s all right to do this. It will always be all right by me, Peter. I love you, and I love having you so deep inside of me.”

With a groan, Peter pulled out of Edmund to stand up on the floor and, with a quick movement that caught Edmund by surprise, dragged the somewhat smaller boy to the edge of the bed. Giggling, Edmund lifted his long legs to either side and grabbed a pillow.

“Wait just a sec,” he said while stuffing it under his hips. “There, isn’t that better?”

“Perfect,” Peter agreed, surveying the height and angle of his brother’s arse. The next moment the hot tip of his battering ram was breaching Edmund’s gate once more.

“Mmm,” they both moaned. Edmund’s feet flailed aimlessly until they were lifted to rest in the crooks of Peter’s arms. The larger boy leaned over the bed to better see his love’s face in the darkness.

“Ed… does this really feel good?” he asked, a hint of worry shadowing his eyes. “You’re not just pretending, are you?”

“No, of course not! You’re not hurting me at all, now that I’ve gotten used to it,” Edmund reassured him. “And Per said it would feel just heavenly when you hit a special spot inside… but I think you’re so large that I can’t tell when you’re hitting it – you’re hitting everywhere all at once.”

“Where is this… special spot?” Peter asked, intrigued.

“He said it’s somewhere near the outside… on the front, I think.”

Peter straightened up to observe where they were connected, blushing to see it even now, and pulled out gradually until his manhood popped out. It grew even more rigid as he pressed it inside again and tried deliberately to rub the front side of Edmund’s passage. A moment later, he knew he had found it when Edmund let out a sound much like a caterwaul.

“That’s it!” he gasped, his limbs suddenly growing tense and even his passage squeezing Peter’s member tighter. “Oh!”

Peter put aside his own need to thrust and plunder his lover’s body and instead rubbed gently back and forth over that special spot, marveling at how Edmund’s flagging manhood grew under his ministrations. The younger king was fondling it in both hands, keeping time with Peter’s slow rocking motion, his eyes shut tightly as he focused on the new and marvelous sensations he was experiencing. In the back of his mind he acknowledged that Per’s information had been correct: the initial discomfort was well worth bearing to reach this final bliss.

Soon Edmund’s movements grew frantic as he was driven inexorably up the heights of pleasure. Peter matched his thrusts to the quick strokes his brother was applying to his exposed manhood, goading him ever closer to the brink. When Edmund arrived at the cusp, he plunged headlong over the edge, spewing his seed over his bared stomach and chest while sensual moans escaped his lips.

Thus sated and replete, Edmund let out sighs of contentment as his body recovered from its culmination. Peter’s length was still solid within him, beginning to move again in the time-old dance of love. He could not have been happier.

Peter also had been entranced to watch his brother respond so eagerly to his actions. However, now that he had satisfied Edmund’s needs, he could not help but want to fulfill his own dream of mating with his lover with wild abandon. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, and more insistent.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked, barely managing to stop his hips for a moment.

“No,” Edmund told him with a light chuckle. “Don’t worry so much, Peter – you won’t break me!”

And so, having received his brother’s permission and reassurance, the High King unreservedly pounded his regal sword into Edmund, all thoughts of caution, indecency, and guilt obliterated by the incomparable joy of ecstasy.

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Anonymous Reunion

The tall man sidled up to the older gentleman sitting at the bar. He sat down nonchalantly beside him. “Buy you a drink?” he asked.

The older gent’s lips quirked to the side. “Thank you. Don’t mind if you do.”

They sipped in silence for a while. Then the older gent pulled out a key card from his pocket and left it on the counter.

“Thanks for the drink,” he said, then stood up and left.

The tall man finished his drink slowly, then paid for the drinks, picked up the key card, and left.

By the time John entered the hotel lobby, Harold had already disabled the security system.


The end.

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