19: Christening and Cuddling

After Jim had left — late for a meeting, but having determinedly polished off the gravy — Spock cleared the table while McCoy put the dishes in the sanitizer. When Spock finished wiping the tabletop, he turned to find McCoy leaning back against the counter and ogling his backside with salacious appreciation. Spock’s cheeks flushed from the intensity of that gaze.

Dayyum,” McCoy pronounced, as though unable to believe his luck. “Do that again!”

“Do…? Oh.” Spock bent to reach across the table, wiping it with the sanitizing cloth once more. Before he could finish, the warm hulk of McCoy’s body was pressed up against him.

“I hope to God I’m not wearing you out,” McCoy breathed into his ear, “but I can’t keep my hands off ya.”

His hands were indeed wandering all over Spock’s chest, holding him close and attempting to undo the fasteners of his tunic at the same time. Even if the throbbing emotions of WANT-WANT-LUST did not indicate his frame of mind, the hard mass pressing into Spock’s buttocks would have been sign enough.

“Aw, dammit — turn around,” McCoy demanded, frustrated by the fasteners. When Spock gladly complied, he began opening them from the top, taking care not to damage them in his haste but doing it in haste nonetheless. He planted kisses down Spock’s neck as the skin there became exposed, trailed down the center of his torso until the tunic was completely open, then paused to kneel and pull his trousers and underwear down. Finding Spock’s beginning erection, McCoy hummed with pleasure. “Mmmm… dessert!”

“Oh!” Spock gasped as McCoy kissed, licked, then swallowed his penis. He realized that this must be McCoy’s definition of “dessert,” at least in this type of situation, and filed it away in his memory. He also noted that the doctor’s hands were grasping at his buttocks — which seemed to be an item of particular interest for some reason — and kneading them slowly, suffusing them with the white-hot energy of his passion. Between that and the thorough suckling of his penis, Spock thought he might reach his climax in record time. He grabbed the table behind him for support, unsure whether his legs would support his weight in that event, and moaned with each stroke of McCoy’s forceful tongue. When McCoy pulled his mouth off from Spock’s now fully erect penis, Spock whimpered before he could stop himself.

“Oh, baby… so hot,” McCoy murmured into the thick fur of his pubic region. He looked up at Spock, who was trembling with deferred desire and wordlessly begging him for mercy. “I wanna…. Can you take it inside again? I don’t want to wear your ass out, but—”

“Yes! Yes, please,” Spock panted in his eagerness.

“All right — be right back,” he promised and sprinted to the bedroom.

Spock barely had time to catch his breath and remove his tunic before McCoy was back with the lube, fumbling one-handed to unzip his own fly. Spock assisted him in opening the front of his jeans and felt the blood rushing in his sensitive ears when the enormous Human penis emerged from under the shirttails, engorged to its full girth and length with a bead of pre-come forming at the tip. Suddenly Spock felt an irresistible craving to taste it, to lick it and savor its unique flavor, so he sank to the floor and grasped the shaft in both hands. He heard his lover groan, almost in pain, as he cleaned the fluid off. The saltiness and bitterness surprised him but were not enough to deter him. Remembering how good McCoy’s attentions had felt on himself, Spock did his best to replicate the process, licking and kissing and pulling the male organ into his mouth. He could feel the pounding of McCoy’s heartbeat as well as his LUST-LUST-WANT through the contact — in fact it seemed to come through more powerfully, though it may have been because McCoy’s arousal had reached peak levels.

“Spock… no, don’t…. God! I’m gonna… you’re gonna make me… come…. Spock, wait! Not yet!” McCoy pleaded, and the sharpness of his last words finally penetrated Spock’s mind.

“But… is that not… what you wish?” Spock asked, continuing to lick; he couldn’t seem to get enough of McCoy’s musky scent and the taste of his leaking pre-come.

“Well, yeah, but… I wanna come… inside you,” he explained.

Spock realized that he wanted his lover inside as well. He nearly stumbled when he stood up since his trousers were still around his ankles, but McCoy held him steady.

“You really… want this… huh?” he asked, studying Spock’s face.

“Yes,” Spock answered, then reached around McCoy’s shoulders to hold him while bringing their mouths together. As their tongues slid against each other, rough and clumsy with desire, Spock sensed that McCoy’s tenuous control was eroding. He could feel the Human’s driving need to penetrate him and — wanting to be penetrated just as much — he forced himself to break away.

“Please… inside!” he gasped, unable to say more.

“Hell yeah,” McCoy answered, then roughly turned him around and pushed Spock’s torso down over the table, guiding him to support his weight with his elbows. He grabbed Spock’s hips with both hands and pulled them back before snatching the lube off the table and applying a liberal amount to his crack, swiftly working it into his anus with sure, deft fingers. “You ready?”

“Yes! Yes…. Oh… yes!” Spock cried out as he was breached by the thick penis. He could feel it sinking deeper, hot and hard, into the very core of his being; he could also feel how it felt for McCoy to be plunging into him, how his own warm body was providing just the right amount of resistance to rub against the shaft’s sensitive skin without making it painful or resisting his progress. It was the best of both worlds, the singular benefit of being a touch empath — something he had used to great effect with Uhura but, lacking her genitalia, had not been able to enjoy quite to this degree. He pushed back against McCoy’s sturdy frame, wanting their union to be as deep as possible. When the head of his penis hit his prostate, Spock yelled involuntarily, then heard his own high-pitched voice echo through McCoy’s ears and discovered that it sent jolts of arousal into the Human’s already overstimulated organ.

“There can be no better sensation in the universe,” Spock thought to himself, though barely cognizant. Then McCoy reached around him to grab his neglected penis, sending white-hot lightning bolts arcing through it to shoot up and down his body, and all coherence was shattered. Now he could feel the strong fingers providing a robust tunnel for his organ to rut into as well as what that organ felt like to those fingers as it thrust of its own accord, seeking more friction and release.

“Spock… aw, dammit, Spock, I’m gonna… I can’t… hold out,” McCoy stammered, struggling not to drool onto Spock’s naked back. “So good! So damn hot….”

Spock mindlessly pushed himself back against the pounding hips as McCoy’s penis continued to hit his prostate with a high degree of accuracy. He could feel his lust cresting — or was it McCoy’s? He could no longer tell and no longer cared. The powerful energy building up between them was a part of both of them. When McCoy shoved deep and hard into Spock and held it there, trembling as he started to ejaculate, Spock also thrust hard into his hand and ejaculated. Again and again, until they were both emptied completely, they moved in perfect harmony. When they finished, they were both on weakened legs needing support, Spock clinging to the table and McCoy clinging to Spock.

“Fuck… yeah,” McCoy muttered his satisfaction. “Oh, fuuuck…!”

Spock’s vision had been lost in the blinding light that had spread out from his body to engulf the entire room, but his sight gradually returned to him as his breathing slowed. The first thing he saw was the glass tabletop; the second was the semen spattered everywhere under it — on the glass, on the floor, even on his trousers, which were still in a heap around his feet.

“You all right?” McCoy asked him, rubbing his chest and stomach.

“Yes… perfectly fine,” Spock replied with a smile pulling at his lips. “However… I seem to have… made something of a mess….”

McCoy laughed as he peered around Spock to see what he meant. “Aww, that’s beautiful! You did a good job christening this table.”

“‘Christening’?” Spock echoed, confused.

“Yeah. You know like they do with champagne for starships? Your come being the bubbly in this case.”

Spock considered the illogic of the comparison hazily while McCoy kissed his back and caressed his body. It mattered little to him, though, and if McCoy was happy — which he certainly seemed to be — he figured that was enough.

“Hey… wanna get comfortable?” McCoy asked, his emotions washing over Spock with warm waves of CARE-CARE-HAPPY. “I don’t have the energy to build a blanket fort right now, but we could still cuddle on the couch. I had to turn down the thermostat when I was cooking, so I don’t want you to get cold….”

Spock straightened himself up off the table and twisted to meet his lover’s eyes. “That sounds pleasant… though I am not in any danger of hypothermia at the moment.”

McCoy smiled and kissed him over his shoulder. “Yeah, well, let’s not risk it. I am supposed to be monitoring your health, after all.”

Spock turned around completely to face him and deepen the kiss, missing the presence of McCoy’s penis as it slipped out but replacing it with the satisfaction of tasting McCoy’s mouth. Spock was flushed from the exertion of their frenzied lovemaking, yet the gentleness of McCoy’s embrace and the tenderness with which he touched Spock’s back — tracing the delicate contours with both hands as though committing the curvature to memory — left him wanting more. The only hindrance was the fact that McCoy was still almost fully clothed. He had been so eager to enter Spock, he had only undone the minimum of his clothing necessary to achieve that end.

“There seems to be a… disparity… in our state of dress,” Spock pointed out between soft nips at his lover’s lips.

“You mean… you wanna see me… naked?” McCoy asked with a devilish lift of one eyebrow.

“It is only fair… and… logical,” Spock returned, smiling rather roguishly himself. Then he admitted, “I don’t want anything… to come between us.”

“Yeah?” The expression in McCoy’s eyes was hopeful. “Then your wish… is my command.”

He began unrolling the sleeves of his denim shirt, so Spock took the opportunity to unbutton the front of it. Seeing the pendant gleaming under his throat, Spock placed his lips in the divot just above it, on the freckle that was aesthetically centered. He pulled back and watched as McCoy discarded his shirt and finally pushed down his jeans (he was not wearing any underwear), then stepped out of it to stand barefoot and naked all the way up.

“C’m’ere,” McCoy coaxed, holding out his hands, which Spock instinctively took. He realized that McCoy was offering to support him while he also stepped out of his trousers and shoes. This was accomplished with more difficulty, since ordinarily he would have removed his shoes first, but at last he was freed from them, half-falling into McCoy’s arms and chuckling at the absurdity of it all. However, Spock decided that standing pressed against his lover with not a stitch of clothing to separate them was well worth any trouble. He slid his hands up McCoy’s broad chest until they wrapped around his neck again, then sighed in pure contentment.

“Damn,” McCoy mumbled into Spock’s hair, cradling his head with one hand while cupping one of his buttocks with the other. His lips found purchase on the lobe of Spock’s ear, then nibbled up the shell to the pointed tip, wreathing the ear in warmth all the way. His tongue flicked out to lick it, sending a shiver up Spock’s spine; it proceeded to spiral down into his ear canal and gently worm its way in.

“W—What are you…” Spock began, not flinching but tensing from the strange sensation.

“Oh, sorry! You don’t like that?” McCoy asked, having removed his tongue as soon as Spock spoke.

“It’s… difficult to say. I have never experienced that before,” Spock confessed.

“Sorry, I just… I wanted to… taste you….”

Spock regretted his reaction, for now he could sense McCoy’s harsh self-condemnation as he thought words like “idiot” and “pervert” and “blunder” and “failure.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Spock hurried to assure him. “I was merely taken by surprise.”

“No, I’m sorry — I should’ve realized it would feel weird for your sensitive ears.”

“Not ‘weird’… simply novel.” Spock ran his hands through McCoy’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. “If you wish to continue, I have no objection. In fact I am curious to see — to experience all of the novel activities you might envision for us.”

There was still a chorus of doubt and guilt running in the back of McCoy’s consciousness, but he swallowed hard to pull himself together. “Well, all right… but we should maybe move to the couch and grab a blanket. Your skin’s getting chilled.”

“That sounds delightful,” Spock said, smiling in the hopes that it would allay McCoy’s fears further. The Human’s answering smile was uncertain but he quickly went to the bedroom to grab some spare blankets. Spock used the time to pick up and fold their clothes, setting them on the dining table chairs. He would have used another sanitizing cloth to clean his semen off the floor and table but McCoy stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it — I’ll get it later,” he insisted, wrapping a blanket around Spock’s shoulders. “Come on, I think we earned ourselves a little break.”

Spock followed him to the couch, where McCoy — now also wrapped in a blanket — sat down with his legs spread wide.

“C’m’ere,” he invited, patting the space between his thighs. “Sit sidesaddle.”

Spock eased down onto the spot, shifting the blanket so his bare body would contact McCoy’s chest and pressing himself against that solid mass. McCoy pulled the blankets close around them, making sure to cover Spock’s feet where they stuck out onto the couch, then reclined the seat to raise his own legs.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his emotions still tainted with worry.

“Absolutely,” Spock replied before kissing McCoy’s shoulder and neck. They relaxed under his lips as McCoy accepted that Spock was truly contented and settled in to petting him like he had wanted to for a long time. Years, Spock realized. It was a weighty truth, one that he wished he had discovered much sooner. The doctor’s famed hands were stroking his skin, leaving glowing trails of warmth, filling him with a sense of wellbeing and happiness. Spock basked in it for a while before it occurred to him that although he could feel McCoy’s affection for and attraction to him, McCoy possessed no such perception and must rely on Spock’s words and actions to decipher his emotions.

“Leonard,” he whispered, pausing in his kisses, “I hope you know… you have made me… deliriously happy.”

“Yeah?” The look on McCoy’s face was open — vulnerable. But then it was replaced with a teasing smirk. “You don’t look too delirious to me…. Should I check your vitals… just in case?”

Spock did not stifle his smile as he captured his lover’s mouth with his own. When they came up for air, he told him, “For a Vulcan… I am behaving very deliriously.”

“Hmm. Guess I’ll just have to keep you under observation.”

“Indeed.”

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