16: A Night of Firsts

Spock woke in the early hours of the morning, somewhat disoriented to see McCoy’s face close to his own, but it helped him remember the events of the previous night. The recollection amazed him with the intensity of the pleasures he had experienced. He was slightly disturbed to realize that he did not even know if McCoy had enjoyed it as well, but even sleeping, McCoy was sending out a steady hum of HAPPY-HAPPY-PRECIOUS-CONTENT that served as a peaceful lullaby. However, Spock’s bladder insisted on being attended to. Taking care not to jostle McCoy, Spock slipped out from his tangled embrace to use the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror where he’d first seen McCoy nearly naked, Spock was dismayed to see his own face had become puffy and bloated. “Perhaps from my bouts of emotional outbursts yesterday? Or a reaction to the sedative?” He borrowed a washcloth to press cold water against his eyes. There was a small part of him that worried whether McCoy might be put off by his unsightliness, but he resigned himself since he had no way to remedy the problem. “Perhaps Leonard will have an idea how to cure it,” he thought, then smiled inwardly. “It is a good thing to be dating a medical officer, indeed.”

He turned off the bathroom light before opening the door, not wanting to wake McCoy, but his lover was already conscious.

“There you are, darlin’,” he drawled, sounding sleepy yet. “I was hoping you weren’t just a dream or a… figment of my sordid imagination….”

“No, of course not,” Spock replied as he slipped into bed next to him. He was gratified when McCoy’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. The kiss they shared was lazy and sweet, nourishing Spock in a way he had not even known he required. The energy that crackled wherever they touched was mild, settling into his bones with a satisfying tingle, but it was particularly strong where McCoy’s penis pressed against his hip.

“Leonard,” he began, pulling out of the kiss first. He had to know. “Did you enjoy… last night… as much as I did?”

“More,” McCoy answered with a shit-eating grin. “I finally got you to lose control! Just hearing you cry out like that, so sexy and emotional…. Didn’t you feel me come all over your leg?”

“Oh…. No, I’m afraid… I was too distracted.” Spock rubbed McCoy’s broad shoulders thoughtfully. “I had thought… you wished to penetrate me.”

“All in good time,” McCoy assured him, then kissed his cheek. “I didn’t think I could hold out until I got you ready, so I did the next best thing. God! The noises you made! Could’a made me shoot my load without even touching my cock.” He chuckled and slid his penis against Spock’s thigh, making him aware of its erect condition. “Now might be a good time to get you ready… but don’t blame me if I can’t wait. You’re so damn beautiful….”

Spock blushed, the heat spreading across his entire body. He became self-conscious about the puffiness of his face but it was too late to ask the doctor about it now — McCoy had retrieved the bottle of lubricant from the shelf at the head of the bed and pulled down the blanket to expose Spock, then sat between his legs, lifting each of them over his own. He paused, though, after slathering the lubricant on his fingers.

“You still want to do this?” he asked, resting one slick palm on Spock’s inner thigh, which surprisingly did not spark any of the electrical charges. “It’s one thing to expect it, but another thing altogether to want it.”

“I do want it,” Spock answered, reaching out to touch his lover’s knees. “If I seem… uncertain… or hesitant at all, it is only because I am… unfamiliar with the protocol for such things.”

McCoy laughed out loud, waves of AMUSEMENT hitting Spock like crashing, scintillating light. “There is no ‘protocol’ for making love, Spock — you just do what feels right.” While Spock drew in a sharp breath, startled by the familiar expression, McCoy added more lubricant to his right index and middle fingers. “All right, let’s get you opened up. Let me know if this hurts at all or is uncomfortable; I don’t want you to get sore.”

“Understood,” Spock said, then braced himself for the intrusion.

“Relax, Spock! Don’t clench. You can do that later, but right now I need you to loosen up,” McCoy told him, rubbing his entrance in small circles.

“Oh! Of course,” Spock replied before concentrating on relaxing his muscles.

“There you go…. The first one usually isn’t a problem,” McCoy said while inserting one finger. “Do you think you can handle another?”

“Yes. Please proceed.”

Snorting with amusement, McCoy slipped in a second finger and twisted them around. “Good! Nice and relaxed. The key is to gradually stretch your sphincter muscles and get them used to having something bigger pushed in. Not that I’m bragging or anything, but I’m pretty sure your evolutionary process didn’t consider taking a huge cock up your ass a priority.”

“No… I would not think so.” Spock tried to inhale deep, even breaths as McCoy gently stretched his opening wider. When the doctor paused to apply more lubricant, Spock realized something. “Is that the… ‘medical supplies’… you had mentioned last night?”

“One of them, yeah. I have another topical cream that’ll help tighten it back up after we’re done — so you don’t have any embarrassing leakages.”

“So then… the lubrication… is conducive to penetration?”

“It’s necessary for penetration. The anus isn’t self-lubricating like a vagina, so you could do some serious damage to the membrane if you don’t use something to reduce the friction.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I take it you’ve never done anal before?”

“No.”

“Not very adventurous, huh?”

“I suppose not.” Spock wondered if he were revealing too much about his past relationship with Uhura, but he had no way of disguising his lack of knowledge.

“Well, I’m just glad I get to be your first,” McCoy said with another grin. “You ready for some real fun?”

“I… ah… yes, of course.” Spock was uncertain what he’d meant by ‘fun’ but discovered soon enough when McCoy pushed his fingers in deeper to find his prostate and testes. Like other Vulcan males, Spock was not biologically programmed to have an erection after sleeping, but his quiescent penis rapidly grew hard and long from the stimulation.

“You like it?” McCoy asked while Spock panted.

“Y—Y—Yes,” he managed. When the rubbing increased in pressure, Spock cried out uncontrollably. “Ah! Ah! Ah!

“God, you’re so sexy like this,” McCoy growled, not letting up his assault. “You ready for the third one?”

“Hmm… mmm… oh… yes…” Spock whimpered. The sparks of electricity had returned, coursing into him through McCoy’s fingers. When the third finger slid in next to them, he felt the white glow permeate his entire torso, streaking out through his hands and feet. “Ah!” he gasped, over and over, trembling with ecstasy every time McCoy plunged deeper inside him to stroke his prostate.

“Dammit, Spock… I can’t wait anymore!” McCoy thrust his fingers in a few last times as he inched closer to Spock’s rear, then pulled them out. Spock cried out to protest their loss, but a moment later there was a large, hot, and solid object pressed against his entrance. “I’m goin’ in!” McCoy grunted before pushing his penis inside.

Spock thought he would be blinded by the brilliance of the light which now suffused him and made the room disappear from his vision. He felt McCoy’s hands on him, wrapping around him in a tight embrace while the incredibly large shaft of his penis dug deeper, ever deeper into his body. Spock had no coherent words at his disposal so he cried out in sounds as instinctive as any wild beast. He clutched at the massive warmth of McCoy’s body, almost hot to the touch but so desirable — even necessary for his own survival — and he sobbed from the overwhelming emotions of their combined consciousness. He had never known joy or happiness or bliss before; nothing in his past life could compare to this; everything else was as insignificant as the beam of a single emergency light before the cosmic powerhouse of a blue supergiant. He was awash in the radiance of McCoy’s feeling.

Then the light began to pulsate, assailing him in enormous tidal waves. Vaguely he realized that his lover was moving, thrusting, making love to him in what would have been the common physical lust of any sexual animal if it were not so incandescently luminous with emotion. And with every thrust the hot shaft pressed against that wonderful, sensitive spot deep within him, inciting and demanding his own arousal with unerring accuracy. Spock no longer knew how loudly he was crying out, his babbling lips forming his lover’s name of their own accord, or how desperately his body grasped and pulled at McCoy’s to come nearer, deeper inside, matching the rhythm of the Human’s movements in perfect synchronicity. He kept pace when the cadence grew faster, even when it became frenzied. McCoy might have been shouting; Spock himself could have been shouting and he would not have heard. All that existed for him was the light, the heat, the power of the passion that surged and engulfed him.

Just when he thought he could bear it no more (if he could even be described as thinking at that point) there was a molten swell of even greater brilliance that rushed into the core of his being. Spock was laid helpless before its onslaught, filled to overflowing, obliterated by the light until nothing remained of himself. It was a pleasure so pure that it drove all else away to the edges of the universe, including Spock’s rational mind. He had nothing left with which to resist it — if he had wanted to resist it at all.

***

It seemed a long while afterward that the presence of mundane reality reasserted itself, as though waiting timidly for the dazzling illumination to recede. Spock blinked, focusing on a wall. He blinked again and recognized that he was lying on his side in a bed. He felt more than saw that he was being held by a warm body. The white electrical charge had reduced itself to a monotone hum deep within him — at a spot where he realized he was intimately connected to McCoy. His lover’s semi-flaccid penis was still inside of him, throbbing with the Human’s distinctive heartbeat. Spock cherished it with a fierceness that would have frightened him at any other time. He reveled in the strong arms that held him, safe and secure, while McCoy slept pressed against his back with his breaths warming the nape of Spock’s neck.

“I love you,” he thought with a flame that burned brightly through his veins. “I love you, Leonard… so much!”

He mused whether the unquenchable heat of the plak tow would be comparable — whether he might have entered pon farr already; however, since it was unlikely that his descent into the Blood Fever would so conveniently coincide with his finding a suitable mate, he dismissed that thought. He chose instead to steep in the quiet comfort of the HAPPY-CONTENT-PROTECT-PRECIOUS feelings that were emanating from McCoy.

He had almost been lulled back to sleep when McCoy stirred, perhaps dreaming, and shifted even closer to Spock. As his half-hard penis was pressed deeper into Spock by the motion, a streak of white lightning impaled him through and through. Simultaneously, he sensed a clear thought from his sleeping lover: “Mine.”

Spock froze, uncertain how to interpret what had happened. It was one thing to feel another sentient being’s feelings through physical contact, but to be able to hear their actual thoughts — without touching the proper nerve points — was a different thing entirely.

“It might be possible, after all, that we have formed some kind of… telepathic bond,” he conceded, lacking any other explanation. “Although we are certainly in direct physical contact, it should not be possible for me to hear his thoughts verbatim. It is also possible that the white energy discharges are related to his emotions, since they do not manifest consistently with touch alone. Perhaps they occur when he is feeling particularly possessive? We have mated now so it may be logical for him to feel that way… even to think that he has a right to demand exclusivity from me.”

Spock was aware that many Humans balked at the thought of exclusive relationships — “fear of commitment” was a term he had often heard, particularly in regards to the captain — but he considered his current involvement with McCoy objectively and could think of no reason to reject it.

“If Leonard wants us to have an exclusive relationship, I would welcome it. Intimacy can flourish more readily when there is a mutual understanding of trust and commitment.” He covered McCoy’s arms, which were wrapped around his torso, with his own, feeling a warmth growing within himself like he had felt — on a much more powerful scale — radiating from McCoy. He realized that he was smiling; he felt happy.

“And if Leonard wants to call me ‘his’… to ‘stake his claim’ on me, as it were… that would be… most welcome as well.”

He reflected that he had felt protective and responsible toward Uhura, as his acknowledged significant other, in addition to his affection; however, he could not recall ever feeling possessive of her. She had always been her own person, strong and individualistic, capable of standing on her own. He suspected that she would have dismissed any possessiveness on his part as being parochial and possibly chauvinistic. It was strange, then, to think that McCoy might feel that way about him.

“Is it perhaps an indication that he truly considers himself superior to me in some ways?” he wondered, though the idea did not irk him as it might have before. “Or is it merely a vestigial symptom of his old-fashioned mindset? Is it an instinctive need to possess or assert ownership over that which is precious to him?” One of the emotions Spock had consistently felt from McCoy was PRECIOUS or DEAR, something of great personal value. He had to allow that it was only logical to want to possess exclusively — even monopolize — something or someone who held such significance to oneself, since the loss of that object or person would be devastating.

“Well. If he wishes to designate me as ‘his,’ I will simply inform him that he is ‘mine’ to the same extent,” Spock decided. The concept of claiming ownership of the irascible doctor pleased him, much to his surprise. “Yes, it will be entertaining to tell him so and see his reaction,” he thought and smiled. He was still smiling when he drifted into sleep.

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