28: Taking Charge

By the time they entered the turbolift of their apartment building, McCoy’s thoughts had grown downright lascivious, and when he reached out to hold Spock’s hand, Spock was given an uncensored view of the images playing in McCoy’s mind. The doctor envisioned pinning Spock down on the bed and, crouching upside-down over his body, sucking the Vulcan penis into his mouth, tonguing the tip until he made Spock whimper with wanton need. Spock flushed involuntarily from the heat of the desire McCoy was conveying to him and felt his erection growing from the mere anticipation of what his lover was planning to do. However, Spock had already decided that his role in their relationship thus far had been too passive to convince McCoy of his deep attraction to him; aside from spoken affirmations, he realized that he needed to express his love by more actively engaging in their sexual encounters. After all, he had just tantalized McCoy with the promise to prove his interest in him — a promise he was determined to honor.

Once in the hallway approaching their quarters, McCoy released Spock’s hand and they both became the picture of decorum since there was always the possibility of their crewmates emerging from the other rooms, but once inside — and only barely after the doors had closed — they were on top of each other, trying to peel off clothes while making haphazard progress to the bedroom. Spock had the advantage of superior strength, which he suddenly exerted to hoist McCoy up by the waist and carry him, much to the doctor’s surprise.

“Hey! Whoa, what—” McCoy sputtered, wrapping his arms and legs around Spock to support himself.

“As I had informed you earlier,” Spock said as he set McCoy down on the bed and pushed him onto his back, “I intend to prove to you how improbable the likelihood is—” he hitched up McCoy’s shirt before pulling it off completely “—of my ever considering the time we spend together—” he slipped one hand into McCoy’s trousers to fondle him while unzipping them with the other “—to be blasé in any way, shape, or form.”

McCoy gulped. “Okay. You’ve got my attention.”

“And I intend to keep it,” Spock declared with intense seriousness as he reached under McCoy’s ass to shove his trousers and underwear down, exposing his privates. The Human’s half-hard erection waved in the air for a moment before flopping onto his stomach, heavy with need and already oozing pre-come. Spock eyed it with scientific interest while he knelt on the floor next to the bed and pulled off McCoy’s trousers. When he glanced up at McCoy’s face, he was gratified to see it flushed with the excitement he could feel thrumming through him, and a surge of desire swept through them both like wildfire when Spock wrapped his fingers around McCoy’s penis. Spock allowed a salacious grin to form on his lips before he licked the glans with the tip of his tongue, causing McCoy to groan and grasp the sheets on either side of him, panting hard. The Human’s emotions were a tumult of desire and appreciation, sending crackling strands of lightning along both of their limbs.

Although Spock had never performed fellatio before, he was confident of his success for several reasons. First, despite the slight differences in Human and Vulcan anatomy, they were not so dissimilar as to respond differently to stimuli; therefore whatever had felt good to Spock previously should elicit the same pleasure in McCoy. Second, Spock was rather adept at cunnilingus, a skill he had acquired under Uhura’s demanding tutelage, and many of the techniques could be applied to the male organ as well. Third, Spock knew that McCoy was so enthralled by his attentions — indeed, had been deprived for such a long time — that almost any sexual stimulation was guaranteed a successful outcome. Lastly and perhaps most importantly, Spock had instantaneous feedback (even when verbal communication failed) of McCoy’s sensations, thanks to their newfound mental connection; in fact he could hear the doctor’s racing thoughts quite clearly through the contact he had with his skin, holding his shaft.

“Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God I can’t believe he’s actually doing this! God that feels good… That perfect face down in my crotch and oh-my-God he’s stickin’ my cock in his mouth now between those pretty lips and I — gah! — I can’t believe it — this must be a dream — Ohhh! That… That… right there…! So good! God that’s so good it’s downright sinful — Ahhh!

Discovering that running his tongue along the underside of McCoy’s penis from the base to the tip made the man incoherent even in his thoughts, and also feeling the waves of pleasure travel up his own penis as though he were licking both simultaneously, Spock continued his efforts with great zeal. When he waggled his tongue sideways across the sensitive underside of McCoy’s glans while stroking up on the shaft with his thumbs, McCoy was reduced to babbling whimpers and moans. Although verbal encouragement was a crucial means of communication for most couples, Spock was demonstrating to McCoy that in their case, it was not necessary.

McCoy was a quick learner. He sent a hesitant, almost shy request for Spock to move his fingers further down to his balls. A remembered impression of gentle rubbing was all Spock needed to understand what to do. McCoy gasped in ecstasy when Spock fondled his large sac and then stroked his fingertips through the neatly trimmed hair in circular motions, kneading the testicles. Spock was also proving how adept he was at multitasking by flicking his tongue against the slit of the meatus and alternated that with placing the head completely into his mouth, where he sucked on it to make loud, lewd noises. McCoy craned his neck to see Spock’s cheeks hollow as he suckled him, but he was forced to throw his head back again when the sensations overwhelmed him.

Spock could feel the pressure building inside his lover’s body: his throbbing pulse in the veins of his shaft, the growing brilliance of the electric sparks that hummed back and forth through their skin, the lust raging through McCoy like a caged animal trying to break out. Spock redoubled his efforts, sucking hard and rapidly on as much of McCoy’s penis as he could and stroking the testicles with more confidence, having discovered how good that felt on external Human ones. He sensed an urgent, instinctive warning from McCoy but hardly needed it; Spock was feeling the force of McCoy’s climax, too, and when he came it was inexorable, carrying both of them in its torrential current and leaving them beached, exhausted, on the shores of bliss.

Although Spock had anticipated taking McCoy’s come in his mouth, he struggled to swallow it since he was also trying to take in great draughts of air. Spock welcomed its familiar taste, though, and hazily attributed its more pungent flavor (than a Vulcan’s) to McCoy’s omnivorous diet.

“You okay?” McCoy thought at Spock, startling him again with the clarity of their connection. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know.” Spock gazed up at him with a slight smile, his cheek pillowed where it had come to rest on McCoy’s thigh. The affection and fondness swelling in McCoy was just as tangible to Spock as his heated skin; even before McCoy reached down to ruffle his hair, Spock could sense his intentions and the emotions that prompted the act. He smiled fully and closed his eyes to better focus on the gentle caress of the doctor’s legendary hands. “I hope my first attempt was… adequate.”

“‘Adequate’!” McCoy snorted, even in his mind’s voice. “You made me come undone in record time with just your mouth and hands, and the best description you can come up with is ‘adequate’?”

“Then how would you describe it?” Spock queried.

McCoy continued to run his fingers through Spock’s hair as he scowled and thought, “Amazing. Mind-blowing. Unbelievable — for a first-timer! Fucking paradise, that’s what that was.”

“I am pleased that you found it so… satisfactory,” Spock sent back, teasing.

“Oh, dammit, Spock!” McCoy roused himself to a complete sitting position and tried to haul Spock up off the floor. “Get up here where I can kiss you!”

Spock chuckled — giggled, really — before he climbed onto the bed and straddled McCoy.

“About damn time,” was McCoy’s gruff remark as he pulled Spock into his arms, but the kiss that followed was tender and sweet. Spock sensed the shimmering white light dancing through both of their bodies, filling them with an illumination that was warm and powerful and intoxicating. “Mine… mine… my very own… Spock,” McCoy whispered reverently as he worshiped his alien lover with his lips. “My own… my home… Spock.”

“Leonard… Ashayam,” Spock sent back to him, infusing the words with all the fervor of his awakened Vulcan passion. “You are mine, also… my own… my home… my k’hat’n’dlawa.”

“Gesundheit!” McCoy pulled back and raised both brows at him, making Spock laugh.

“It means you are half of my heart and soul, just as I am yours; you are my beloved.”

“I don’t think I could ever pronounce that word.”

“That is all right,” Spock told him with an indulgent smile. “You can use k’diwa instead. It is a shortened form of k’hat’n’dlawa.”

“Oh, so it’s hard even for Vulcans to say, huh?”

“It is unwieldy, yes.” Spock initiated another kiss, then realized that they had been speaking with their minds for the past minute with no skin-on-skin contact. Spock was still fully clothed with only one of his fasteners undone and McCoy still had his shirt on; neither their hands nor their faces had been touching. He blinked in surprise — and was further stunned when McCoy picked up on his emotions.

“What is it? What’s bothering you?” McCoy asked without breaking their kiss.

“Not ‘bothering’ per se, but… puzzling,” Spock replied. “Now our mouths are in contact, so it is understandable… however, earlier we were communicating without any part of our skin being in contact.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Extremely.” Spock withdrew his lips from McCoy’s and sat up to confirm that they were not touching anywhere with their skin. “Even between two powerful empaths, precise verbal communication is very rare. And although a telepath would be able to initiate mental communication with a non-telepath — even forge a bond which would allow the non-telepath to speak freely with them — I have never tested remotely near that range. Leonard, what have your test results shown?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” McCoy answered, furrowing his brow. “Humans aren’t generally known for their psionic ability… and I’m pretty sure my scores were within normal parameters — which means practically zero compared to even Vulcan empathy, let alone, say, Betazoid telepathy.”

“So then… this… should not be possible,” Spock stated, gesturing between them at the dialogue taking place. “And yet… we can prove — empirically, if need be — that it is.”

“Beats me, Spock.” McCoy yawned, tears forming in his eyes. “We can run some tests to see if anything’s changed in either of us… but for now, I need to get some sleep.”

“Yes, of course,” Spock agreed, getting off the bed so they could reposition themselves under the covers. He blushed as he realized that he had come inside his clothes earlier.

“You can wear my pajamas,” McCoy told him, making his blush deepen. The doctor laughed when he sensed Spock’s embarrassment. “C’mere, sweetheart… let me take those clothes off you.”

“I assume you wish to see the results of our activities?” Spock asked while acquiescing to being undressed.

“Damn right I do.” McCoy’s lips twitched when he opened up Spock’s trousers and saw the damp, greenish stain on his underwear. “In fact, I think I have just enough time to clean this up before we go to bed.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Spock began but, feeling McCoy’s sincere delight at seeing the evidence of his sexual attraction, he did not resist when McCoy removed his underwear and began licking off the traces of come on his penis. He was too thoroughly spent to even respond with a twitch, but McCoy didn’t mind.

“My beautiful, perfect Vulcan cock… No, I don’t care about that, Spock — I wouldn’t be able to do much about it now, anyway. Tomorrow is swimming-with-Jim day so I have to get up extra early. Just let me lick it clean and I’ll grab you some clothes. So pretty! Such a perfect little specimen you are!”

Spock stopped blushing but was instead awed by the fact that McCoy had said so with utter sincerity and not even a hint of sarcasm. If Spock had not been able to sense — beyond the shadow of a doubt — the truth behind his lover’s words, he might have struggled to accept them. The realization prompted him to grab McCoy’s hands, halting his ministrations, and sit beside him on the bed.

“I want you to know,” Spock said, speaking aloud for the first time in a long while, “that I truly believe you are perfect too. You are perfect for me. We are… two halves of a whole. We are stronger, better, when we are together. And you are so beautiful… and handsome….”

Spock could not think of all the other things he had wished to say a moment ago; he was drowning in the depths of McCoy’s eyes, which were regarding him with warmth and happiness and peace. There was a tranquility in them that Spock could not remember ever seeing before.

“I know, Spock,” McCoy replied, then he pulled the Vulcan back into his lap and held him tightly. “I know,” he whispered in Spock’s ear, blinding him with the intensity of the crackling white lightning storm he had conjured around and between and within them. “I know… Ashayam.”

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