30: Surprises

True to his word, McCoy contacted Spock near the end of his shift at the hospital, but rather than call with the audio communicator, he concentrated on their telepathic connection and figuratively knocked on the door of Spock’s mind. Spock sensed it as a gentle nudging while he was portioning out a meat substitute onto wonton sheets.

“Leonard?” he queried back.

“Yeah. Is this a good time?”

“Of course.” Spock could not suppress a smile even as he marveled at their newfound ability, which seemed to be working fine across a significant distance. “I am preparing a dish that has many positive reviews. I hope it will be to your liking.”

“I’m sure it will — I’m famished,” McCoy replied with fervor. “I’m just finishing up some paperwork right now, so I’ll leave here in about fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Will you be ready to dine as soon as you arrive home?”

“Sure! Why do you ask?”

“I was uncertain whether you would wish to shower before dinner… or if you might perhaps prefer to have dessert first.”

The impression Spock sent him left no doubt as to what sort of dessert he meant.

“Dammit, Spock! Don’t make me use the de-erector on myself again,” McCoy protested, his emotions already heated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t need to shower — I did an hour ago after surgery — and as for dessert… I was hoping to try something new tonight.”

“Oh?” Spock physically raised an eyebrow, and although McCoy could not see it, he could sense it. “That sounds… fascinating. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Not yet… but I think you’ll enjoy it. It’ll have to wait until after dinner, though; I had to rush through lunch so I’ll need some proper nutrition before we get around to it.”

“Understood.” Spock folded the wonton wrapper around its filling, wetting the last edge to glue it together. “I will plan to have dinner ready in twenty-five to thirty minutes then.”

“God! I can’t wait.”

The sudden and intense burst of warmth that enveloped Spock’s consciousness caught him by surprise; he realized a split-second later that it was McCoy’s attempt to communicate a hug or even a kiss. Spock considered reciprocating the affectionate gesture but — sensing that the doctor had already busied himself with his work, intent on finishing it as soon as possible so he could be with Spock in person — he restrained himself and returned his attention to the recipe instructions on his PADD. After rolling all the wontons, he set them in the air fryer, then mixed the ingredients for their dipping sauce. The rice was already cooking and would be finished ten minutes before McCoy’s arrival. Spock chopped the cabbage and other vegetables for the sesame slaw, feeling more contented — happier — than he had in a long while.

He knew, with a sense he could not explain, when McCoy approached the building and got into the turbolift. Trusting his instinct, Spock put the edamame in the flash cooker before moving around the counter to welcome his lover home. He got to the door just as it opened.

“Honey, I’m — damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes — home!” McCoy announced while losing no time in wrapping his arms around Spock.

“I am pleased that you are pleased,” Spock responded, trying to keep a straight face as McCoy planted kisses all over it. When the doctor licked the vertical vein below his ear, however, a needy moan slipped out.

“Hot damn, Spock!” McCoy grinned at him, ecstatic at eliciting such a reaction from him. “You look good enough to eat, and something smells good enough to eat, too! And I really like you in an apron.”

“It seemed the logical attire for cooking,” was Spock’s dry remark. He gave McCoy’s lower lip a peck before retreating to the kitchenette; McCoy trailed after him as though in a trance and wordlessly helped set the table. It was almost unconscious: Spock handed him the dishes along with the impression of where and how he wanted them placed. Seeing McCoy set them out exactly as he had intended, Spock wondered again what had caused their telepathic connection to become so strong — and in so short a time.

“About that,” McCoy began as if Spock had spoken aloud, “I asked around and got introduced to a doctor who’s been studying telepathy in Humans. She’s working with identical twins for a paper but says she would love to take some readings of us, so I set up a tentative appointment for next week. I hope that’s okay — it’s right after we both finish our duty shifts.”

“Of course. The results should be fascinating,” Spock said, sitting down.

“Yeah, and with any luck, we’ll get some answers as to how this all works.” McCoy deftly picked up a wonton with his chopsticks and took a bite, savoring the complex flavors. “This is delicious!”

Spock could feel McCoy’s appreciation as well as his quickly diminishing hunger, which was as intense. “Did you not have an adequate lunch?”

“Well, it was adequate… but not very filling,” McCoy answered. “Those nutrition bars can only do so much, especially when you’re on your feet most of the day.”

“It seems you need to take some of your own advice, Doctor,” Spock chided. “Or perhaps I ought to come visit you at your office to ensure that you eat properly.”

A shy smile tugged at the corners of McCoy’s mouth. “You would?”

“If it would promote healthier eating habits for you, yes.” Spock raised one eyebrow at him. “I have a vested interest in your health now… specifically, in maintaining your stamina.”

McCoy coughed, nearly choking at the innuendo. After swallowing hard, he growled, “Spock, your timing is deplorable! But I wholeheartedly agree that my stamina should be maintained… at all costs.” He ran one finger up Spock’s wrist, exposed where he had rolled his sleeves up out of the way for cooking. The touch sent a thrill of anticipation through Spock — and also a flash of an image: a pink, oddly shaped device.

“What is that?” he asked.

“Nothing!” McCoy said, hastily withdrawing his finger. “Nothing at all! Dammit, it’s gonna be next to impossible to keep secrets now….”

“But why would you wish to keep secrets?” Spock returned with some alarm.

“Nothing bad, Spock, just… fun secrets. Surprises. But hell, we’ll never be able to plan surprise birthday parties for each other, will we?”

“Since I am not particularly fond of surprises, it does not bother me in the least,” Spock told him. “But… do you enjoy surprises?”

“Well, yeah… if they’re the nice kind.” McCoy tried to organize his panicked mind and find the right words while he chewed a large mouthful of slaw. “Like Jim’s birthday party, y’know? Of course he’d said he didn’t want it to be a big deal, but… at least this year, I felt like he could use something festive… have all of his friends around to celebrate with him and remind him that he really does have a great life. I was nervous at first ’cuz I wasn’t sure he would go for it, but when he saw all y’all waiting for him… well, that smile — that made it worthwhile.”

Spock noticed that McCoy’s bowl was almost empty, so he passed the rice. “I see…. The fact that he did not anticipate the party… made it seem that much more… celebratory.”

“Yes, exactly! And thanks — this is all amazing,” McCoy added while helping himself to another serving of slaw as well. “At least, I hope it did. I dunno, maybe he would’ve looked forward to it if he’d known we were gonna do it, anyhow, but I thought it might be more fun to surprise him.”

“Do you like receiving surprises, also?”

“Nice surprises, yeah — definitely.” McCoy smirked and looked Spock over. “Like finding out that you’re a damn good cook, or how sexy you look in an apron… oh, yeah.”

Spock felt his cheeks blush at the frank assessment. “I shall endeavor to find other ways of surprising you, then… pleasantly, of course.”

Once they were finished with dinner, McCoy helped with the clean-up, although he distracted Spock by pressing up against him and kissing his neck so often that Spock teased he was delaying them from their “dessert.” McCoy quickly backed away at that, but not before Spock caught another glimpse of the pink object.

“A is for Alcohol and Acidocis; E is for Environment, Epilepsy, Electrolytes, Encephalopathy, and Endocrine disease; I is for Infection,” McCoy began reciting frantically in his mind.

“What are you trying to hide from me?” Spock demanded, although amused by McCoy’s efforts and the scowl he received in answer.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” McCoy shot back, resuming with, “O is for Overdose and Oxygen deficiency; U is for Underdose and Uremia….”

“I presume that is a mnemonic device. What is it for?”

“Possible causes for altered mental states. Where was I? AEIOU… T is for Trauma and Tumors,” McCoy continued aloud. Since they were now finished in the kitchen, he grabbed Spock by the hands and pulled him, carefully walking backward, to the bedroom. “I is for Insulin; P is for Psychogenics and Poison; and S is for Stroke or Shock.”

“Impressive. A very thorough list of causes,” Spock said. “Are you going to examine me for all of those?”

“Only if you want me to. Have you been experiencing an altered mental state?”

“In a manner of speaking. My recent obsession with you is certainly out of the normal parameters of my mental functions. It has even affected my efficiency.”

“Well… we can’t have that, now, can we?” McCoy grinned and began undressing Spock. “You might need a… very thorough examination. Luckily for you, I’m a trained professional… so we can ‘play doctor’ and also get some real results.”

Spock hummed his approval while undressing McCoy in turn. “I have heard something about this… activity. Is it as invasive as the rumors suggest?”

“Oh, very invasive. It was developed centuries ago, you know, when medical examinations were done by hand… by touch and feel….”

The doctor punctuated his statements with gentle caresses of Spock’s chest, hips, and buttocks, drawing him close. Spock could sense McCoy’s excitement overlying his own heightened arousal. In fact McCoy was focusing very hard on Spock’s assets — all of his physical attributes that he found attractive — in what Spock realized was an attempt to avoid thinking of his promised surprise.

“I see. So is that what you meant when you said you wished to try ‘something new’ tonight?”

“Actually, no. If you don’t mind, I’d like to save that for another time.” After another teasing kiss, McCoy stepped out of his trousers and crawled onto the bed, crouching on all fours and giving Spock a come-hither look over one shoulder. “I have a little present for you… but you’ll have to get it yourself.”

To Spock’s surprise, there was a small pink object protruding from McCoy’s anus. Now that his lover was unclothed, Spock could even hear a faint humming sound emanating from it.

“What…?” He trailed off, at a loss for words.

“It’s a Sexpander™,” McCoy explained. “It gradually expands your sphincter muscles to prep you for penetration. I put it in almost two hours ago so I should be all set.”

Spock approached the bed, examining what he could see of the device, which was a handle just big enough to grip with his fingers. He did, then gingerly pulled it out. McCoy’s wanton moans at the process sent jolts of desire straight to Spock’s cock. After setting the dripping device on the bedside table, he discovered that McCoy was, indeed, quite ready for penetration, his cavity already slathered with lubricant.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart… Ashayam.”

Spock got up on the bed behind McCoy and ran his hands down the Human’s buttocks, causing sparks to ignite. He pulled apart the globes to better see McCoy’s gaping hole, and the sight of his lover so open and willing to take him awoke a deep, primal need within Spock. He could also sense McCoy’s anticipation, mingled with anxiety, as he hoped to please Spock with this reversal of roles. It reminded Spock that McCoy still needed reassurances since he could not sense Spock’s emotions like he could read his thoughts.

“You are… so beautiful like this,” Spock murmured, bending over McCoy’s back to whisper the words into his ear. “It must have been uncomfortable to have this inside for so long…. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Leonard.” Spock ran his hands up and down McCoy’s back and sides, feeling the thrill his touches sent through McCoy as well as the warmth his praise spread deep within. McCoy’s breathing was growing harsh and labored, and with a shock Spock realized that his lover was eager to have him penetrate him, even lusting to feel him enter. When Spock rubbed the tip of his hardened length against McCoy’s perineum, the doctor groaned in protest.

“Quit teasing me,” he panted, “and just fuck me already!”

“If you wish,” Spock replied, rubbing his cock around the Human’s balls, “but I would prefer to make love to you instead.”

“I don’t care — just put it in me,” McCoy whined. “That damn machine has been driving me nuts!”

With a chuckle, Spock complied. He penetrated McCoy slowly, savoring how his cock sank into the tight flesh, even though he was ravenous to possess him. McCoy’s sexy groans were doing nothing to help Spock hold his libido in check. The combined sensations of his own penis and McCoy’s anus were nearly overwhelming, but Spock wanted to experience both so he could provide his lover with maximum pleasure. For McCoy the main feeling now was of fullness, just as for Spock it was of snugness — somewhat reminiscent of penetrating a woman but different in its contours.

“I had to guess how thick you were from memory,” McCoy thought at Spock. “I hope it’s not too loose.”

“No, Ashayam — it is perfect. And I’m glad that you are not experiencing discomfort.”

McCoy grunted and pressed back, deepening their physical connection. “Fuck me, Spock! I want to feel you lose control… and come inside me… like a rutting animal.”

A feral smile gripped Spock’s features. “Be careful what you wish for, Leonard.”

Spock began thrusting, growing more confident as he learned — as McCoy did, also — how well a Human body adapted to this kind of intrusion. He searched for McCoy’s prostate, then remembered that it was closer to the entrance than his own; they both cried out when he found the target, blinding pleasure rendering them oblivious to everything else. From that moment on Spock rutted, as McCoy had wished, like a wild animal, seeking and hitting his lover’s pleasure center with precision and driving them both up to the brink of ecstasy. He could not have paused there even if he had wanted to — he rushed them headlong over the edge, making them ejaculate simultaneously until they collapsed, trembling and spent, gasping in great draughts of air.

“That was… wonderful,” Spock told him, thinking because he could not yet speak.

“It was, wasn’t it?” McCoy exuded HAPPY-HAPPY-CONTENT-RELAXED. “I wasn’t sure I would enjoy being the bottom, but I’m glad I tried it — I had no idea it would be so amazing!”

“Perhaps because I have the advantage of feeling what you feel,” Spock mused.

“Only because you care enough to make it feel good for me, too.”

“Of course I care, Leonard.” Spock finally pulled out of him so they could move into more comfortable positions — McCoy lying on his back and Spock on McCoy’s chest. “I love you. More than I could ever have imagined possible.”

“Yeah?” McCoy was grinning happily, but Spock could sense the faintest hint of worry behind it.

“Yes,” he answered aloud. “I love you, Leonard. Just as much, if not more, than you love me.”

Despite the happiness permeating McCoy, his eyes filled with tears. “Wow,” was all he could think.

Spock kissed his tears away before pulling the sheet and blankets over them. Snuggled together, heedless of the semen staining the just-washed linens, they cocooned themselves in the warmth of their mutual affection as they fell asleep.

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