15: Unexpected Pleasures

McCoy stopped by the nurses’ station for a moment to inform the head nurse that he was releasing Spock. “He’s Vulcan,” he said, as though that explained everything. “He’ll do better in his own healing trance than getting pumped full of drugs here, especially since we don’t even know which drugs will work on him. I’ll see that he gets to his quarters safely and check in on him tomorrow.”

“All right, Doctor, if you’re sure that’s best,” the nurse replied, taking the PADD from him. “But you’re off duty tomorrow, aren’t you?”

McCoy shrugged. “You do what you have to for a shipmate. No rest for the weary.”

Spock noted that the nurse — a rather young woman to be in charge of the ward, even for the night shift — blushed at the grin McCoy gave her before leaving. While it seemed to be proof of the doctor’s attractiveness, Spock felt no compulsion to point it out to him; in fact he was relieved to be leaving the hospital. But as they took the turbolift down to the ground level, he noticed again how exhausted McCoy looked.

“Leonard,” he said quietly, even though they were alone in the turbolift, “if you are too tired for any… activities… tonight, I can defer to another time when—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” McCoy demanded, turning to him, incredulous. “I had to self-medicate while ago just so I wouldn’t explode and do something seriously unprofessional in a hospital room, and you want me to fucking wait until I’m not tired?

Spock felt the heat of McCoy’s gaze warming his cheeks. “I was… obviously mistaken,” he said, inclining his head in apology. “If you are feeling capable….” The turbolift doors opened so they stepped outside.

“I’m feeling damn capable, thanks, and if I have to spend my entire day off sleeping to recover, so be it,” McCoy huffed under his breath, mindful of the people walking by. “The only question is, your place or mine?”

“I have no preference,” Spock said, falling into step beside him.

“Well, I gotta shower, at least, or I’ll stink like a Denebian slime devil before we’re through. Plus I gotta replicate some medical supplies.”

The lifted eyebrow and emphasis McCoy placed on the last term clued Spock in that the supplies in question were not exactly medical in nature. As to what they might be, he could not hazard a guess, but he was confident the doctor knew what he was doing.

“In that case, perhaps I will join you in your quarters after showering also and dressing in something more appropriate.”

McCoy smiled at him, making his heart flutter for a second. “Wear something you can take off quickly.”

Spock struggled to remain composed as they stepped up to the site-to-site transporter.


In spite of his best efforts to calm himself, Spock’s heart was racing and his cheeks (and no doubt his ears) were flushed again by the time he took the short walk down the hall from his own quarters to McCoy’s next door. Although there was no reason why he should not enter the chief medical officer’s private rooms for a friendly chat, even at this late hour, he was glad to see the hallway deserted. The door opened as soon as he touched the notification panel, apparently programmed to allow him automatic access. When he stepped inside he realized that the ambient temperature was somewhat elevated; he wondered if McCoy had set it higher than usual to accommodate his Vulcan physiology.

Hearing the buzz of an electric shaver, Spock entered the darkened bedroom to find McCoy standing at his bathroom sink, wrapped only in a towel, lit by bright lights that glittered in the water drops still clinging to his skin and the silver pendant around his neck. He was contorting his face to get the last of the stubble, touching up his sideburns. Spock watched, mesmerized, until McCoy finished and turned to the bedroom. He started when he saw Spock standing there.

“Hey,” he said after catching his breath. “You came.”

“Of course.” Spock tilted his head in concern. “You doubted that I would?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I’m not hallucinating this right now.” McCoy ran his hands through his still-damp hair, leaving wild spikes in their wake. “It’s all… so surreal.”

Spock moved closer to him and cupped his newly shaven face in both hands, sensing the DOUBT-DOUBT-NERVOUS-WORRY repeating in his mind. “I assure you this feels quite real to me.”

“Yeah… it does now,” McCoy agreed, then pulled Spock closer by the waist. “I just… I’ve wanted this for so long… I’m scared that I might wake up and find that it’s all been a dream….”

Spock felt a pang of sadness but ignored it to press his lips against McCoy’s. The flash of electricity it generated was weaker than before; however, as their tongues met and tangled in wordless communication, the tingling sensation grew stronger. He felt McCoy’s manhood harden and press against his own, which responded in kind as the waves of LUST-DESIRE-WANT intensified.

“Spock,” McCoy panted, pulling back with a tremendous effort of will, “are you sure you want this? Because this is your last chance to back out… if you’re not sure….”

“I am sure, Leonard.” Spock felt the thrill of anticipation set his senses on heightened alert. “I want to be with you.”

McCoy groaned before groping at Spock’s tunic. “All right, then, how do you get this thing off?”

After Spock showed him how to unlatch the top fasteners, McCoy hastily undid the lower ones, then tossed the garment onto a chair before tackling Spock’s trousers. Spock was forced to grab McCoy’s shoulders as the Human shoved both trousers and underwear down to his shoes, which Spock stepped out of while McCoy — still on his knees — studied the revealed Vulcan penis with combined professional and personal curiosity.

“Not so different after all,” he murmured, gently lifting it with one hand. “The meatus is more circular than a Human’s, but the overall length and girth is comparable. Of course the glans is smaller and almost indistinguishable from the shaft, but it should be just as sensitive—” he paused to lick it with the tip of his tongue, sending a surge of heat and pleasure through Spock “—as ours. And the testes aren’t external.”

“I believe the hotter climate on Vulcan… would have made… external organs… more susceptible… to heat… and… damage,” Spock contributed, gasping for breath as his erection grew harder under the ministrations of McCoy’s nimble tongue.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, sweetheart,” McCoy said with a roguish grin as he fondled Spock with one hand. “Can’t have you passing out, now, can we? I’m supposed to be supervising your ‘rest and recuperation,’ after all.”

Spock gratefully sat down on the bed after McCoy pulled the covers down, then lay back while McCoy turned off the bathroom light, leaving them in approximately twenty percent lighting — bright enough to see each other clearly but dark enough to sleep in without being bothered.

“God! I’ve dreamed of having you here so often,” McCoy said, drinking in the sight of Spock lying naked beneath him. He climbed onto the bed to straddle him and threw off his towel.

“You have?” Spock asked in surprise, his voice coming out in a slightly higher pitch than normal. It may have had something to do with the fact that McCoy’s Human penis was engorged to its fullest extent, curving back to almost touch his belly, leaking pre-come.

“Yeah… just like this,” McCoy breathed. He lowered himself over Spock with care, aligning their bodies as he got down on his hands, then his elbows, until he was lying flush on top of his new lover. He kissed him slowly but thoroughly for a long moment, the contact generating white-hot surges of energy that crackled through Spock and left a residual glow in his mind’s eye. The waves of LUST-DESIRE-WANT were now tempered with PRECIOUS-PRECIOUS-PROTECT, allowing Spock to relax and simply experience what McCoy was doing. And what McCoy seemed intent on doing was to kiss every square nanometer of Spock’s skin.

“So damn perfect,” McCoy murmured as he made his way down Spock’s neck and throat. “Like a beautiful porcelain doll….”

“I can assure you, Leonard,” Spock said, gasping when McCoy mouthed his nipple, “I am far more durable than a ceramic doll… or a Human, for that matter.”

“Good.” McCoy moved further down his body to swirl his tongue inside Spock’s navel. “I’m counting on it!”

Spock’s breath caught in his throat as he felt McCoy rub his penis against his leg, leaving a trail of stickiness behind. The next moment his own penis was enveloped in warm wetness, making all coherent thought impossible. The lightning flashes were not as intense — which would have been a relief had he been able to recognize it — but the sensations assaulting him were enough to render him mindlessly moaning and gasping for air. The wanton sounds escaping him only seemed to spur McCoy on to suck harder, deeper, and longer, taking in almost the entire length of his sizeable penis. Spock did not even realize he had grasped two fistfuls of McCoy’s hair in his ecstasy or that his legs were flailing every time McCoy sucked him off with slurping noises.

When at last McCoy pulled away, gently easing Spock’s fingers out of his hair, Spock was close to drooling from the overwhelming experience. Although Uhura had performed fellatio on him before, it had not been like this — since his erection was firm for a long time after its initial arousal, there had been no need for her to stimulate him to this extent. He gulped and tried to gather his thoughts, vaguely knowing that McCoy had walked over to his replicator to retrieve something.

“How’re you doin’?” McCoy asked as he returned. “Are you still… all right with this?”

“Perfectly… fine,” Spock panted. “Please… continue.”

“All right, then.” McCoy’s expression as he settled back between Spock’s legs was tender. He pulled one of Spock’s feet to rest by his groin, pressing his penis against the ankle, then flicked open the tube he had brought.

Spock was startled to feel a moist fingertip rub along his perineum to his anus, but he immediately understood (or thought he did) McCoy’s intentions. He took a deep breath to force his body to relax in preparation for penetration and was surprised when the finger slipped in easily. When McCoy continued to mouth at Spock’s penis and rub around inside of him with only one finger, Spock lifted his head to assess the situation.

“What… are you… trying to… do?” he asked, blushing even more — which he would not have thought possible — at the sight of McCoy’s cheeks hollowed around his penis. The Human took his time sucking off its length before answering.

“Trying to find your prostate. It should be… roughly in the same area.”

His fingertip was pressing the anal wall near the entrance, moving in small circles.

“I believe it is… further inside,” Spock told him, not sure what the doctor’s reasons for finding it might be. Having never considered a homosexual relationship before, Spock had not familiarized himself with the mechanics thereof, so he cried out in shock when McCoy succeeded in finding his prostate.

“Good, isn’t it?” McCoy grinned, rubbing in wider circles. “I guess your testes must be nearby… like around here and here.”

Spock’s toes curled and his back arched at the novel, mind-numbing flashes of pleasure generated by McCoy’s touch. His entire body tensed when McCoy rubbed his prostate again.

“Are you ’bout ready?” he asked, but Spock could not think to answer.

“Ah… ah… ah!” was all he could say, his eyes closed to shut out all sensory input except touch.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” McCoy mumbled to himself before grasping Spock’s penis with his free hand — already slicked with lubricant — and stroking it in tandem with his finger inside. Spock’s cries grew louder and more frequent as he was driven up the heights of ecstasy and pushed over the edge. McCoy kept pumping him until it was clear that he was completely spent, every last drop of his semen spilled onto his stomach and chest.

Spock had never lost his mental control so thoroughly. Even when he had attacked his tormentors in the Vulcan school, there had been a part of his mind telling him to stop, if for no other reason than that he would be punished and perhaps disappoint his parents, but also because he would be proving the other boys correct. Now, he was so wholly emptied of rational thought that he did not know where he was — or even care, for that matter. He felt perfectly sated, satisfied, and happy.

The first thing that led him back out of his comatose state was the sensation of tingling electricity along his abdomen, which somebody was licking.

“Not bad,” McCoy was saying conversationally. “Your body doesn’t have the levels of sodium a Human has, so your come isn’t salty; if anything, it tastes sweet. I wonder if it changes flavor depending on your diet? But wouldn’t you know, it’s got a green tint to it. Son of a gun!”

“Leonard?” Spock asked, just to regain his bearings.


“…I love you.”

“I know, sweetheart.” McCoy’s smile was audible in his voice. “I love you too. Go to sleep now.”

Thinking that was good advice, Spock slept. He did not wake when McCoy wiped him off with a towel or when McCoy settled in next to him in bed, holding him close and kissing his nose before falling asleep himself.

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