Title: Spock Tease
By: opheliafiction
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS
Rating: R
Warnings: Smut. Also, please keep in mind that there's a sequel coming.
Disclaimer: I own zero.
Context: Works as a standalone but also as a sequel to Gratitude.
Description: Bones finds an effective new way to get Spock to stop talking.***
Vulcan skin was softer than McCoy had expected. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting probably something closer to the consistency of scales if, in fact, he'd been expecting anything at all. He let the thought sink in for a moment, attempting to convince himself that he didn't mean anything when he thought about it in terms of what he'd expected.
Because he hadn't been expecting anything. Expecting Vulcan skin to have one texture or another implied that he'd given thought to the texture of Vulcan skin. He was pretty sure he'd shaken Spock's hand at some point and derived no small amount of pleasure in not having noticed anything about Vulcan skin. And yet he'd obviously thought about it at some point; otherwise, why would he have been surprised to learn it was soft?
It was a real talent, being able to overthink and kiss at the same time.
He wasn't sure which part was more surprising: the bit about the skin or the fact that Spock was an alarmingly good kisser. The latter was hard for Leonard to admit, even to himself. Admitting that Spock was a good kisser meant acknowledging that he'd kissed Spock or, worse, that he was still kissing Spock. The Vulcan was a methodical and deliberate kisser, perhaps even an overly scientific one, but he was good. It was probable that he spent a great deal of time analyzing and planning each of his mouth's next movements, weighing the pros and cons of each of the various possibilities before committing to one, but he was so good at it that McCoy didn't even care.
He wasn't even sure how it had happened; he ran through as much as he could remember, recalling some kind of conversation that quickly turned into an argument and culminated in this effective new way to shut Spock up.
At least it worked, he thought as he slid his tongue along the Vulcan's. It had started out as one kiss maybe even less, since all he did was press his own mouth against Spock's while he was in the middle of some logic-riddled sentence. Spock was the one who kissed back. The rest was gravity's doing; they were initially close to the wall of Spock's quarters before ending up on his bed. The wall was vertical and hard, the bed horizontal and soft. The decision was logical.
Apart from that, the specifics had escaped Leonard. He had no memory of whose arms had encircled the other first and when, or of whose tongue first slipped past the other's lips. He knew that a handful of random thoughts had entered his head at various points; he was somewhat amused that it had come to this. He swore to himself that no one would ever find out not about him unexpectedly making the first move, not about the fact that he'd been completely sober when he made the first move and certainly not about the fact that he was, well, enjoying it.
He wondered where Spock had learned to kiss like that, then dismissed the thought. This was no time to ponder just how much practice the otherwise-stoic first officer had at this sort of thing, and the idea that he'd studied the typically human act of kissing and committed its intricacies to memory was, though realistic, something of a mood-killer. Either way, the green-blooded hobgoblin had to have done his homework; it seemed highly unlikely that they kissed like that on Vulcan.
It occurred to Leonard then that they didn't really kiss on Vulcan; they did that hand-touching thing that seemed to yield effects similar to what kissing did to humans. There was little question that Spock was finding the proceedings non-offensive at the very least he was putting a great deal of effort into them. But McCoy was curious now; having already confirmed that the Vulcan was a competent, if unemotional, kisser, he wanted to determine whether a different biological stimulus would produce a more visceral result.
He opened his eyes, wanting to gage the results of his experiment. As he moved his index and middle fingers down Spock's arm towards his hand, he realized the scientist in him had taken over, if only briefly.
Fascinating.
He ran his fingers up Spock's, letting them linger at the top before bringing them back down the other side. He'd gotten halfway down the underside of his hand when Spock's eyes flew open. He pulled his mouth away from McCoy's in an attempt to catch his quickening breath and let out a low grunt in the process. He'd shifted somewhat, just enough to be comfortable while working his mouth along the Vulcan's neck. He'd started towards the bottom, close to his shirt collar, and kissed his way up. Spock was going to great lengths to control his breathing it seemed Vulcan necks were brimming with nerve endings and by the time he'd reached his ear, Leonard couldn't help himself.
"Are you enjoying this, Mr. Spock?"
He'd barely finished enunciating the Vulcan's name when he found himself on his back with Spock on top of him. He was pretty sure he'd heard him moan again, slightly louder this time, in the seconds it took for him to take charge of the proceedings. Their positioning left no doubt that he was hard. McCoy was erect too; he just hadn't become acutely aware of it until he'd shifted in an attempt to stay comfortable and felt Spock's length brush against his own.
"I didn't think that could happen to you," Leonard growled as he gently pushed his crotch against Spock's, eliciting another sharp intake of oxygen. "Outside of that mating cycle, I mean." He went back to covering the Vulcan's neck in hot, slow kisses.
Spock managed to grunt "half-human, doctor" between laboured breaths. McCoy found himself silently wishing that Spock wouldn't call him "doctor" while they were necking like teenagers but decided to let it go.
He had forgotten how satisfying making out could be; kisses increasing in intensity, hands exploring ignored regions of the other's body, the escalating sense of heat forcing two people even further together. It came with the possibility of sex but not necessarily the promise of it. He felt his cock twitch as the thought of sex with the Vulcan passed through his mind; he wasn't even interested in the sex part, since it was difficult to kiss someone you weren't face-to-face with and he'd be damned if he was going to stop kissing him. Still, it was hard not to think about getting him naked and seeing exactly what he could do with that green-blooded body of his
That was it. Clothes were coming off.
He wasn't sure whether this was moving too fast; he didn't mind and he was pretty sure Spock didn't mind, but he had no idea how much time had actually passed since the first kiss and so he decided to leave the decision up to him. He slowed his kissing and moved the Vulcan's hands down to his waist, making sure his fingers felt the edge of his uniform shirt. Spock opened his eyes, still in mid-kiss, and arched and eyebrow. McCoy arched one of his own, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Spock allowed himself something of a smirk and pulled at the doctor's shirt, finally getting it over his head and onto the waiting floor. He'd only removed his blue uniform shirt, though, and when he didn't endeavour to correct himself by going back for his black, short-sleeved undershirt, McCoy decided it was good enough.
He reached for the bottom of Spock's uniform shirt then; the Vulcan complied, preferring to pull it over his own head and gently toss it onto the floor on the other side of his bed before picking up where they had left off. The differences were small but noticeable; their forearms could touch now, and losing the extra layer helped McCoy feel as though he was less likely to pass out from the heat. Spock then promptly made up for it by gently pressing his hard length into the doctor's lap once at first, then again, then a third time until McCoy finally pushed him onto his side in an attempt to keep himself from exploding right then and there.
"Dammit, Spock," he hissed as the Vulcan briefly resumed kissing his neck before pulling away.
"Do you wish to see this through to its logical conclusion, doctor?" he asked, running his fingers down McCoy's for no reason other than that it made him feel good. McCoy let out a grunt.
"Do you?" he breathed. If he was going to be propositioned by Spock, he was going to do his own propositioning too.
"I would find that to be most satisfying," Spock said, running his hands along McCoy's chest. He slid his index finger along the doctor's bicep, causing him to shiver, and moved in close enough to whisper. "However, I understand the experience is heightened by anticipation."
Leonard's eyes widened.
"Perhaps we could continue this tomorrow evening," Spock continued.
"God dammit, Spock!" McCoy interjected, sitting up and reaching for his shirt. "You can't just get a man aroused and then call the whole show off!"
"I am not 'calling anything off,' doctor," Spock said. "I found our activities to be a wholly pleasant experience and am interested in pursuing them further. I am merely attempting to put into practice the concept of delayed gratification." Leonard rolled his eyes as he smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, but he knew Spock was right. A few hours earlier, they'd been mere co-workers and sparring partners before all that tension somehow exploded into a hot mess of physicality.
"Yeah," he said as he stood up. "All right." Spock stood up too, the bulge in his pants still visible.
"Logic suggests that it is more enjoyable when taken slowly," he said, walking McCoy to his door. "Shall I expect you tomorrow?" Leonard nodded, pulling Spock into another deep kiss as he reached for the door handle.
"If anyone asks, I was here to play chess," he said, turning to leave. "And I won."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Affirmative, doctor."
Leonard started down the hallway on the long walk back to his quarters. He wasn't worried about being found out; his erection was more or less gone by the time he'd gotten to Spock's door, mostly because he was so taken aback by how abruptly it had all ended. He'd done a pretty good job of smoothing out his shirt and his hair, too. The only thing left to do was get back to his room and get to sleep, and maybe forget that it had happened. That wasn't really an option, though, since he knew full well the next day would pass by slowly and that getting back to Spock's quarters was the only thing he'd be able to think about the whole time.
But at least he'd have interesting dreams that night.
He was back in his quarters by that point, relieved at not having run into anyone in the corridor, and changing for bed when he noticed a sizable red mark on the side of his neck. He sighed, dug around in his drawer for a hypospray that would help reduce its visibility, and hoped it wouldn't be an issue in the morning. He'd have to come up with some excuse in case it was still there allergies, maybe. But he had to hope there wasn't a similarly shaped green mark on Spock's neck.
And he'd really devoted a lot of time to Spock's neck.
Damn.
By the time he was in bed, he was trying to think about something anything else, but could only remember the skin and the kissing. Which wasn't so bad.
He drifted off to sleep, despite the unresolved sexual frustration, muttering one silent last curse:
"Green-blooded cock tease."***