After the Rescue
By Karmen Ghia

Prologue

HOW THINGS CHANGED BETWEEN SPOCK AND McCOY AFTER THE RESCUE.


"A flare." McCoy looked at Spock and smiled. 

Spock looked into McCoy's eyes as the air in the Galileo began to burn and allowed himself to rest easily in the smile there.  It crossed Spock's mind that it was illogical to appear so pleased at such a desperate and futile act as the doctor had just witnessed but that McCoy's reaction was, well, actually quite pleasing on a strangely non intellectual level to the Vulcan.  Pleasing and rather confusing at the same time.  And this was the last thought Spock had before hearing the transporter hum and subsequently falling onto his ass on the transporter platform of the Enterprise. 

* * *

Kirk marched into sickbay as McCoy was sending the last of the Galileo crew off with a clean bill of health.

"Captain," he nodded.

"Bones.  How are they?"

"Aside from a few scrapes and bruises they're in the same shape they left here in."

"Except the one he lost."

"Yes, regrettable but, as far as I could tell, unavoidable."

"He says it was avoidable."

"Then I disagree with him."  'How unusual,' McCoy thought.

"Bones," Kirk said tentatively, listening, "how'd he do?  Really."

"Fine.  Better than most could have done under the same circumstances up until he set the fuel on fire, then he was brilliant.  We should all be dead but here we are."  He smiled, remembering.

"How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you; impressed down to my boots with Spock but I'm sure I'll get over it." He paused, "I woulda bet money he'd never make a creative leap like igniting the fuel supply.  That kind of thinking is nowhere anywhere in his pysch profile, y'know."

"Yesss," Kirk murmured, "I'm glad to have you both home again." A smile, "you look tired ..."

"I am."

"... go get some rest, you can write up your report tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"I, however, have a very angry Federation Representative to smooth down, otherwise we're in for a quiet week ahead."

"I've heard that before so I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

Spock gave up analysis of recent events, which, to the untrained eye, very much resembles brooding, and went to sickbay to be poked and prodded.  Uncharacteristically, he was looking forward to it.  He had not seen Dr. McCoy since leaving the transporter room several hours before.  Tired as he was, his fatigue lifted when he entered the turbolift.

Spock, purely in the interest of scientific inquiry, wished to reproduce the reaction McCoy had produced in him in the Galileo when he'd had looked into the doctor's eyes.  Spock was as intrigued as he was puzzled by his own reaction and was eager to verify it and then classify it.

'If I am to live among these humans I must understand them,' he thought.  He was also curious to query McCoy on his thoughts in those few moments before the transporter beamed them to safety.

Entering sickbay he was greeted efficiently by Nurse Chapel.

"Dr. McCoy's gone to get some rest.  He left instructions for your exam, if you'll step over here, please."

Spock's fatigue returned, squared.

"Dispatch will be appreciated, Nurse." 

* * *

McCoy leaned under the hot shower and allowed himself to think freely about Spock.  Think, in particular, about those last moments in the Galileo and how much he'd wanted to lean forward and kiss him goodbye.  'Spock, of all people, impossible, purely a stress reaction,' McCoy thought with a mental snort.  'Lord, I hope that's all it is, having a crush on Spock - that'd make the cat laugh.  Or weep,' he added to himself.  'A crush?  I might survive a crush, even enjoy it for a few weeks,' he thought, 'before it evaporated.'

He turned off the shower and reached for the towel next to his robe, an ancient black brocade monstrosity trimmed in jet velvet his six sisters had insisted he'd need in space.  No arguing with those girls; there were too many of them.

'But this is not a crush and you know it, sir.  This is a thunderbolt; a coup de foudre; a house falling on you so face it and get over it.  I've always wanted to fall in love all at once,' he thought, 'but why, oh, why did it have to be with that most impossible Vulcan, of all beings?'

He sighed, toweled off, pulled on the robe and tied the wide sash.  McCoy walked into his quarters wondering if he thought about Spock hard enough, if he could conjure him up out of thin air.  Longing for him with that sweet ache he'd almost forgotten how to feel.  'You're very tired, you need sleep, now,' he thought, looking at his bed.

The door buzzer sounded, he called 'come,' rather annoyed at the interruption in his Spock reverie.

Spock stepped into the room and clasped his hands behind his back to steady them, otherwise the picture of composure.

"I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Doctor, but there is something I would like to discuss with you."

McCoy composed himself.  "Sure, Spock, what's on your mind?" He smiled warmly.

Spock went very still, holding McCoy's gaze, and there it was:  the internal reaction he sought to replicate, the same sense of pleasure and confusion, of the same intensity as before.  Except now they were alone, safe and Spock began to observe other reactions in himself.

"You . . are on my mind," the Vulcan said softly, moving closer.  "In the last 2.63 minutes in the Galileo, what were your thoughts, Doctor?"

"My thoughts?  Why d'you ask?"

"In order to know."

McCoy lowered his eyes in thought and found himself contemplating an impressive expanse of blue clad chest impressively close to him.  He looked back at Spock and decided he had nothing to lose.

"I thought you were magnificent and if I had to die just then I was glad to be dying with someone so magnificent."

Spock thought about this.  "I thought my action was most illogical ..."

"It was inspired!" 'And inspirational,' he added to himself.

"... in that we would have had 8.61 more minutes in orbit.."

"But then the Enterprise would never have seen us before we burned up in re-entry and we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"Obviously."

Each regarded the other in silence.

"May I call you Leonard?"

"Yes, please." 'Please, yes.'

"I have been analyzing the events of the mission up to being transported to the Enterprise .. Leonard .. and I believe, although I have no tangible proof, that some type of mutation has occurred in our relationship."

McCoy threw caution, prudence, propriety and whatever else to the wind.  "I love you," he stated flatly.  'There, I said it, now what?'

Spock inhaled (McCoy clenched his teeth) and said, calmly, "This is incomprehensible to me, however, my experience and observation of humans leads me to conclude that this action is required in response to statements of this type."

Spock leaned the small distance between them and gently pressed his lips to McCoy's.  McCoy's eyes widened in surprise and then closed in pleasure while the rest of him leaned into the kiss.  Spock's hands slipped around his back and pulled him close, deepening the kiss.  McCoy wrapped his arms around Spock's neck and let Spock part his lips with his tongue.

'This is incredible,' thought McCoy, 'this is not the best kiss I've ever had in my life but I never want it to end.'

Spock broke the kiss.  "Are you all right, Leonard?"

"Yes, why?  What's wrong?  Don't stop."

Spock seemed amused by this.  "I sense some resistance, if I am not mistaken."

"Well, Spock, this is rather surprising, and I'm trying to maintain some, um, perspective because I've no idea where all this is going."  'Cool, analytical - that's the tack to take,' he thought passionately.

Spock gazed inscrutably into McCoy's radiant blue eyes, reached down and took McCoy's ass in both hands.  He ground their erections together.  McCoy bravely drew a breath.  Spock then looked pointedly at McCoy's sleeping alcove.

"I hope this is going to your bed soon," Spock murmured.

"An excellent idea, let's go right now."  'Before I swoon,' McCoy thought, breathlessly.

Spock, to save time or simply because it seemed the right thing to do, picked him up and carried him to the bed.  McCoy pulled off his elaborate robe and slipped under the covers.  Spock sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

"Will you be warm enough, Spock?" McCoy said, just to say something.  He was nervous.

"Soon, I expect."

McCoy smiled and busied himself with pulling Spock's tunic and T-shirt off.  He stroked the Vulcan's broad shoulders, noting the smooth texture, and down his back as Spock removed his trousers.  He turned and McCoy found himself deeply impressed by Spock's powerful, elegant physique.

Suddenly shy, McCoy considered that he would soon be pulled into those arms, held close and safe to rest his head on those shoulders.  Spock slipped into bed and reached for McCoy, did indeed pull him close.  He ran his warm hands possessively over McCoy's back and shoulders, pressing his heated body the length of the doctor.  He pressed his lips to McCoy's neck, licking and caressing, over the rounded ear, back down to McCoy's shoulder.  McCoy overcame his momentary shyness and moved Spock into a long, tender kiss, running his fingers through the silky onyx hair.  Spock's tongue found his, which pressed back, playfully pursuing and being pursued.

McCoy let his hand wander down to caress Spock's erection, trying not to be intimidated by the heat and size of it.  He ran his fingers over the head, stroking along the ridges, stroking down and drawing the testicles into his hand, weighing them, squeezing gently.  Spock sighed and drew back to gaze at McCoy.  They regarded each other with desire and relief - so much had happened between them and this intimacy was its perfect culmination.

Spock rolled on his back, pulling McCoy on top of him.  McCoy spread his legs on either side of Spock's hips and ground his groin into Spock's.

"Oh, Spock, you feel so good."

"As do you, Leonard."

Spock's hands closed on McCoy's ass, gently urging him forward onto his chest.  He leaned forward and ran his tongue around the head of McCoy's cock, sliding it up and down, farther into his mouth.  McCoy closed his eyes in pure pleasure and gave himself over to Spock's care.  He jumped a bit when Spock's finger brushed against his anus.  Spock gave his cock a hard suck and leaned back.

"Have you any lubricant, Leonard?" he said, caressing the velvety head with his lips.

"Uh huh." McCoy bent down to open the bedside drawer and hand Spock a small jar.

Spock swirled his tongue around McCoy's penis while he stroked between McCoy's buttocks, spreading them gently, pressing a gel coated finger ever deeper and closer to the sweet tightness he sought.  Sucking McCoy deeper, Spock applied more lubricant and began to work his finger slowly and gently in.

McCoy rolled his head back, marveling at how much he was enjoying Spock's invading digit.  He sighed voluptuously as Spock began to stroke his prostate, wondering just how much Spock knew about human anatomy and what use he'd make of it.

Spock slipped in another well oiled finger, thrusting gently deeper.

"Oh, yes ..."  McCoy moaned, undulating gently to Spock's rhythm, forward into Spock's mouth, backward onto Spock's fingers, now three fingers.

Spock decided that McCoy was ready.  He slowly withdrew his fingers, eased McCoy out of his mouth and onto the bed.  He rolled on top of him and kissed the human softly.

"Leonard .. I want to be inside you, do you want that?"

"Yes, yes, but, um, I've never done this before, Spock, so ..."

"I know, I'll be careful and I'll stop if you ask me," he said in a deep murmur, looking out of obsidian eyes.

Spock hugged him close and rolled McCoy onto his stomach, spreading his legs with his knees.  Kneeling, Spock massaged McCoy's shoulders, easing some apprehension there.  Working his way down the firm flesh, gently pressing his thumbs along the vertebrae, admiring the fragile strength and beauty of McCoy's body, the soft musk rising from his skin.  He leaned down to press kisses along McCoy's shoulder and down, sure now that they were both ready, he liberally applied lubricant to his hard penis.  Spock braced his hands against McCoy's hips, stroking them reassuringly, and pressed his cock against the entrance to McCoy's body.  Spock paused, waiting for the tiny rebellion beneath him to subside.

"Relax, Leonard, let me in."

Spock began to press forward gently.  McCoy, remembering an obscure anatomical fact from medical school, focused on relaxing while pushing his muscles against Spock's forward momentum.  Spock softly rocked his hips, a little harder, a little more, a thrust and the slippery head passed the tight ring and he paused there to allow Leonard to recover.  For all Spock's gentle preparation, McCoy gasped in pain and tensed.

"Are you all right, Leonard?" He saw the human nod. "Relax, I won't hurt you."

Spock reached beneath McCoy to caress his cock, gently pulling the doctor's hips into a better angle, relaxing and calming him.

Feeling that McCoy was indeed relaxing, Spock slowly slid all the way in.  He stopped to let McCoy get used to the feeling of them together and to compose himself before he was overwhelmed by the snug warmth that held him so sweetly.

McCoy was adjusting, soothing himself, impaled, possessed, held fast, surrendered to Spock, his lover.  Trusting Spock, loving him, shivering under Spock's hands, filled by him, overwhelmed by him, overwhelmed by desire for him, so safe with him, always, all ways.

Spock felt McCoy pressing back, urging him deeper, felt the doctor's energy shift and align with his own.  He drew back and slid in again.  McCoy moved in harmony with his lover.  They moved together, apart, finding the rhythm of their desire.  McCoy groaned with pleasure as Spock's cock stroked his prostate, again and again.

Spock increased his pace, very much in control of himself but demanding his pleasure from McCoy's body.  Harder, faster, feeling McCoy's orgasm welling up in him, his muscles clenching about Spock's cock in rapture, feeling his own climax rushing upon him, crashing through him.

Spock threw his head back in a strangled shout, fighting for consciousness, he eased himself carefully down on McCoy.  He leaned his forehead between McCoy's shoulders to recover, breathing hard and shaking.

McCoy was struggling with his own respiration and grateful that Spock had propped his weight on his elbows.  He could feel Spock's hot semen and still hard cock in him, enjoying the connection, feeling a languid, lovely peace and contentment.

Spock roused himself and gently ran his teeth over McCoy's shoulder.

They lay dazed and spent for a moment longer.  Spock's cock finally softened and he gently, slowly withdrew, stopping to wait for McCoy's muscles to release him.  He pulled McCoy into his arms, kissed him tenderly and ran his fingers through his warm brown hair.

McCoy curled sweetly into Spock's arms, murmured softly and drifted off to welcome sleep.

Spock held his lover, watched him sleep for a while and dozed off himself.

* * *

Half awake, McCoy snuggled into the space Spock no longer occupied.  Fully awake, he sat up and looked around.  Spock sat on the bed, dressed, looking down at him.

"Spock, are you leaving?  Are you cold?  I can turn up the heat and get another blanket ..."

Spock silenced him with a kiss.

"I must go, Leonard, we must be discrete.  Star Fleet frowns upon sexual relationships between its officers."

"They can go straight to hell."

"If that pleases you, Leonard, nevertheless I would prefer not to broadcast our relationship while we serve on the same ship."

"Of course you're right," McCoy paused in thought. "I wonder if it would upset Jim?"

"I haven't enough data to speculate."  Spock almost smiled, almost fondly.

McCoy gave him an annoyed look anyway, then mellowed.

"Well, I'll think about that tomorrow, I'm too tired and too happy right now." 'Rather sore, too,' he added mentally.

Spock rose, McCoy looked up at him.

"Aren't you going to kiss me good night?"

An eyebrow ascended. "Haven't you had enough kissing for one evening?"

"Obviously not, if I want more."

McCoy favored him with one of those devastatingly mischievous smiles and held out his arms.  Spock descended into them and pulled the doctor close.  It was a languid sensual kiss that they broke off with difficulty, before any other nerves could get involved.  McCoy whispered:  "Good night, good night and when you dream tonight, dream of me."

Spock pressed a kiss to McCoy's forehead, hiding his smile.

"Sleep well, my Leonard," and left.

* * *

McCoy woke, stretched luxuriously and snuggled into the space where Spock wasn't, hunting for his scent, trying to place it.  The closest he could come was the smell of line dried sheets in summer.  And cedar.  Linens were stored in a cedar chest between uses.  Stretching voluptuously, wishing someone, anyone, would bring him a coffee, musing on the association of Spock, sex, cedar, linen, and his childhood.  These activities were interrupted by his comm line.

"McCoy here."

"Spock here."

His heart jumped. "Mornin' Spock."

"Good morning, Doctor, are you well this morning?"

"Yes, quite well; you?"

"Well, thank you.  Spock out."

'Well,' McCoy thought, 'that was gallant; gallant and efficient.  Oh well,' he continued, 'if I want romance, I'll hafta seduce Jim.  (!)  Now where in the flying hell did that come from?  I must get out of this bed right now.'  And did so.

* * *

The day passed quickly for McCoy, for Spock, too.  In their brief absence life and research continued, crew members developed symptoms, correspondence appeared to be read and answered.  And for McCoy, in addition to the daily tasks, there was a report of the latest mission to write up for the captain.  The latest mission with Spock - my lover.  He froze.  Spock.  Is.  My.  Lover.  Astonishing.

He pushed it aside and plowed into the report.  While writing the narrative of events McCoy began to feel some guilt, he'd been awfully hard on Spock on the planet, maybe too hard.  He continued to write in the dry style Star Fleet so required.  Dry, devoid of drama and emotion, no place in this report for regret at the life lost, fear, guilt, love - just facts and necessary detail.  It took time to write, his mind drifted to the way Spock's hand felt on his inner thigh, the way the skin just below Spock's shoulder tasted and further down, too, and all this took more time than he'd expected.  McCoy was reading through it one last time when Spock himself walked into sickbay.

McCoy looked up, smiling. "Hullo, Spock, I've just been writing about the Galileo landing party."

Spock leaned down somewhat closer than necessary to read over McCoy's shoulder.  McCoy could feel his heat, smell just the memory of this scent and dredged up the discipline not to turn and drag his tongue along Spock's fine jaw and under his splendid ear.

'I love that ear,' he thought, visualizing it, 'it's so big.'

Spock straightened and McCoy shook himself from his reverie.

"Indeed, Doctor, it is an accurate account of events."

"Why, thank you kindly, Mista Spock, ah've gotten so just lately ah can hardly tell whut ah dream and whut rilly happens," McCoy drawled sarcastically.

Spock fixed him with a piercing look and chose not to comment.

"Are you dining with the captain and me tonight?"

McCoy glanced at this chrono, surprised.  "Where does time go?  Yes, give me a moment, this is done," he muttered, addressing and sending his report to the captain of the Enterprise and closing his station.

He rose and followed Spock out of sickbay.

* * *

After dinner, McCoy left Spock and Kirk to play chess.  He chatted with Uhura for a few moments before going to his quarters ostensibly to read, but, if he was honest, to fantasize about Spock.

* * *

"You and Bones seem to be getting along better since you've been back."

Spock looked up at his captain, contemplating a reply and a chess move.  "We returned only 28.7 hours ago."  He moved his bishop, "Check."

Kirk frowned at the chessboard, moved his king. "He was subdued at dinner, perhaps he's just too tired to snarl at you right now."

"Perhaps."  Spock moved his rook, "Dr. McCoy is often a mystery to me."

"He can be ... challenging, but he has a heart as big as a whale."  Kirk moved his castle.

Spock looked up, puzzled, "'A heart as big as a ...'?"

"It's a metaphor, Spock.  You've impressed him, on the planet, in the Galileo, I think that's changed his opinion of you, his feelings toward you, perhaps he'll be more ... patient with you" 'or less,' Kirk thought, 'hard to predict with Bones.'

Spock raised his brows and nodded - Terrans expected some sort of response to everything they said - and moved his queen.  "Check and mate."

* * *

Because hope springs eternal, McCoy had showered carefully and gotten dressed again.  He'd waited for what seemed like forever, until he'd decided Spock must be in his quarters and reached for the comm line, which obligingly beeped under his hand.

"McCoy here."

"Doctor, I have just returned to my quarters..."

"I'll be right there."  'Discreet enough for you, my wild Vulcan romance?'

'Nice to be on the same wavelength with him,' McCoy thought as he strode off.  McCoy paused, hopefully they were on the same wavelength, if not, he'd find out right quick.

Which he did, upon entering Spock's impressively warm quarters he was pulled into an even warmer embrace.

"Door lock" Spock mumbled and tilted McCoy's chin into a better angle for kissing.  All of McCoy's trepidation vanished and he relaxed against Spock in pure bliss.

Spock broke the kiss, "Come," pulling McCoy along to his bed.

'Moves right along, don't he?' thought McCoy, grateful for the fact.

Spock removed McCoy's tunic and started to fold it, McCoy took it and dropped it on the floor - this was re-enacted with every piece of clothing until they were both naked and sliding into Spock's bed.

Spock was so gentle, like silk, he ran his warm hands over McCoy's back and clasped the mounds of this buttocks.

"You're so soft and cool, Leonard, like nothing in my previous experience," Spock murmured into his round little ear.

"You're a first for me, too, Spock."

McCoy kissed a trail down to Spock's right nipple and closed his lips over it, hard.  Spock relaxed and stroked his hair.  McCoy moved to the left nipple and nuzzled it as well, striving, as always, for thoroughness and moved lower.  He combed his fingers through the fur on Spock's belly, admiring its silkiness.  McCoy stroked into Spock's pubic hair, swirling about his erect pale green cock (fascinatin', he thought) and under his scrotum.  McCoy sighed with desire as he smoothed his lips over the velvety head, slipping his tongue along the planes and ridges.  It was big, he wondered how it had fit inside him last night.  But it had and would, presumably, fit again.

He glanced at Spock, languidly watching him through half closed eyes and bent to his pleasant task again.

McCoy wrapped his lips around the head and dragged his tongue along the underside.  He relaxed his jaw and moved as far down as he comfortably could.  He let his lips and tongue explore a bit before moving back up to the head and down again and back up.  He established a gentle rhythm on Spock's cock, enjoying its texture and taste, doing all the things he himself enjoyed, hoping Spock was enjoying himself, too.

Evidently.  Spock groaned voluptuously and wrapped his legs around McCoy.  McCoy left off sucking and nuzzled at the base of Spock's cock, bathing the areas he could not previously reach.

Spock reached down to stroke McCoy's thick hair and massage his temples, gently guiding McCoy back to the head of his cock.

"Just a little more," Spock rasped softly.

McCoy happily complied, marveling that he was so enjoying himself and he'd never even wanted to do this before.  Now he never wanted to stop.  And this would have been fine with Spock had he not had his own agenda.

Spock unclamped his legs and urged McCoy up to his chest.  He bent down to lick his own taste off McCoy's lips and roll on top of him, spreading McCoy's legs on either side of his hips and urging them up.

McCoy, seeing where this lead, demurred:  "Um... Spock, I'm still a little sore from last night..."

"You won't feel any pain."

"How the hell do you know that!?" His temper flared at such presumption.

Spock paused and propped himself up on his elbows, looking into McCoy's annoyed but lovely blue eyes.

"Do you want me to stop because you don't want me to penetrate you?"

"How romantic you are in bed," a snarl.

Spock waited.  McCoy sighed.

"It is my medical opinion that if you, as you say, penetrate me now it will be painful due to the penetration of the previous evening.  This is the sole cause of any hesitation you have encountered, here, tonight, in this bed."

Spock looked down at him, calmly, "I assure you, Doctor, I will not hurt you when I penetrate you."

"Spock, how can you..."

"I can.  Trust me; why are you here if you do not trust me?"

McCoy found this unanswerable and relaxed a bit as Spock reached for the lubricant he'd so thoughtfully put by the bed earlier.  Spock knelt between McCoy's legs, pulling his hips onto his thighs, gently stroking McCoy's cock.

"I have a question, Leonard," Spock asked, conversationally.

"Umm?"

"Why do you keep lubricant next to your bed?"

McCoy frowned:  "Occasionally in aid of masturbation.  Why, Spock?  Are you concerned about rivals for my favors?" he drawled.

Spock gently slipped a well oiled finger into the doctor, up to the first joint.  McCoy started at the contact, then shivered with pleasure.  Spock grinned mentally and answered:  "No, not rivals prior to last night as you were certainly a virgin."

His finger progressed slowly deeper and McCoy had to split his attention between the pleasure of Spock's touch and annoyance with Spock's conversation.  He tightened around Spock's finger in anger.

"A virgin!  Spock...!"

"Is what you said you were, was it not?"  A second finger slipped in, McCoy's muscles were losing their fight against the intrusion and relaxing in spite of him.  Relaxing for Spock.

"A virgin implies a bit more to me than your literal interpretation..."

The rest of whatever McCoy was going to say was lost in a sharp intake of breath as Spock stroked McCoy's prostate and penis in the same rhythm.  Semantics were abandoned for less cerebral pleasures.

Spock leaned down and kissed him sweetly, arranging McCoy's legs over his shoulders, rolling him forward.  McCoy tensed, dammit, he was nervous, he ranted to himself, this was only his second time out, hell, only yesterday he was a virgin...  and then he looked into Spock's hot dark eyes and his fears melted in the desire he saw there.  Desire for him, Leonard McCoy, of all people.

Spock centered his cock against McCoy's tight ring, felt him wince.  He raised his right hand to McCoy's face and looked deeply into his apprehensive blue eyes.

"...what are you...?" McCoy began.

"Shhh, Leonard," Spock soothed. "I'm keeping my promise."

And McCoy felt all his attention move upward in his body to where Spock's hand rested on his face.  At the same time he felt the pressure, the pleasure, the stretching and the fullness, but not the pain, of Spock's hot penis slipping slowly and completely into him.

Spock stopped and removed his hand from the doctor's face.  McCoy's awareness cascaded down his body.  He arched against Spock in pure pleasure at being filled by Spock.

Spock was still.  McCoy wrapped his legs around Spock's hips, moving against him encouragingly, as best he could with Spock on top of him.

And Spock remained still.  McCoy clasped Spock's shoulders, squirmed, undulated, groaned and finally rasped out between teeth clenched in lust:  "Do you need orders from headquarters?  Fuck me, Spock, right now, please!"

Spock regarded him coolly.

"Yes, Leonard, right away," and began to move very very slowly.

McCoy rolled his head in pleasure, yielding to Spock's pace, matching it.  With each thrust and retreat the head of Spock's penis stroked McCoy's prostate.  McCoy could feel his climax nearing and tried to forestall it by mentally reciting chemical compounds.  Spock, sensing this, upped his tempo a little and bent to take McCoy's left nipple gently between his teeth.  McCoy clung to him:  "Spock, I'm going to cum if you don't stop."

"Ummm" harder thrusts.

McCoy had just time to cry out before his orgasm swept from his toes to the top of his head, clenching his ass around Spock.  Cum splashed between them.

Spock cooled his pace, still hard, still moving inside McCoy, allowing him to recover from his sudden climax.  He adjusted his angle to put even more pressure on McCoy's prostate and was gratified, when, with a shocked gasp, McCoy's cock sprang to attention.  Spock slid all the way in, bent to McCoy's mouth and kissed him, hard, forcing his tongue between McCoy's teeth.

McCoy shuddered, moaned against Spock's tongue, his cock pressed between their bellies, slippery with his cum.  And still Spock was fucking him with long, slow, powerful strokes.  Fucking him like he owned him and this thought sent McCoy rushing to the edge of climax.

"Oh Spock, I'm going to cum again."

"It is desirable," and slammed into him until McCoy uttered a strangled cry, arched, clenched and came like a house afire.

Spock slid his still hard cock all the way in, resting on his elbows and cradling the shaking, shattered human in his arms.

"Leonard," he murmured into the round ear, "it is most enjoyable to feel you achieve climax during intercourse."  He moved his lips to caress McCoy's temple.

"It's good for me, too, Spock," McCoy gasped and to his stunned disbelief could feel his cock stirring in response to Spock's lips on his temple, now his cheek, now his temple.  Somehow the Vulcan was stroking him to hardness again without touching his cock.

'I will never be the same,' McCoy thought.

/Nor I/ came a whisper like a half heard melody inside his head.  It brought McCoy to full aching hardness.

"Oh Spock, oh Spock, oh Spock," he intoned, just to say it.

Spock was moving, harder, faster, deeper.  Head thrown back, eyes closed, intent on his own climax.  McCoy could come along for the ride if he liked, Spock was beyond caring.  But McCoy was right there, matching his pace, caught up in Spock's headlong rush.

Spock was moaning softly, the first incoherent sounds McCoy had ever heard from the usually so lucid First Officer.  Spock let his head fall forward, eyes closed, panting.  His thrusts became erratic and McCoy could only hold on for dear life, feeling his own climax at hand.

Spock opened his eyes and fixed McCoy with a look of such total lust that it pushed McCoy to orgasm.  His cum splashed between them as Spock flung himself against McCoy, once, twice, threw his head back and came and came and came with a choked cry.  He collapsed into McCoy's arms and was instantly asleep.

McCoy lay with Spock in his arms, exhausted but still tingling with pleasure.  He stroked Spock's hair, his shoulders, pressed his lips to Spock's forehead and sincerely wished Spock's erection would soften enough to slip out.  How could this Vulcan still be hard after all that?  Enough was enough for one evening.  But he was content to lay beneath him for a while longer.

Spock.  Is.  My.  Lover.  McCoy couldn't push the thought away, certainly not now, pleasantly impaled as he still was.  Spockismylover.  Fast or slow, it was still shocking to him.

McCoy could feel Spock's penis softening inside him and wondered if he (McCoy, not Spock) would be sore tomorrow (well, maybe Spock, too).  He wondered at Spock's stamina and his own, he'd never cum like that in his life.  And then he wondered just how Spock had made his penetration so painless.  He knew as much as the next Star Fleet medico of Vulcan telepathic abilities but he'd never had such a practical demonstration.

Spock woke and pulled McCoy even closer.  He rolled onto his back and settled McCoy on his chest, caressing as much of him as he could easily reach.

"Spock..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you.  That was...amazing."

"Thank you, Leonard, it was most enjoyable for me as well."  He kissed McCoy's forehead and stroked his hair.

"Spock, I've got to go home now, before I fall asleep here."

Spock's arm tightened around him.  "I could wake you in a few hours," he suggested.

"Very kind, Spock, but I wouldn't sleep very well.  I'm funny that way."

Spock loosened his arm and McCoy sat up, stretched and then snuggled back down into Spock's arms again.

"Five more minutes and I'll go."

Spock squeezed him for an answer and they lay together in peaceful silence.

Thirty or so minutes later McCoy made his way happily but carefully to his own quarters and hoped a shot of bourbon would be enough painkiller until morning.

* * *

Spock lay on his back feeling very relaxed, thinking about how pleasant sex was with McCoy.  Even without a meld it was very pleasant.  He traced the chain of events that led to this moment and concluded that an intimate relationship was not, of course, a logical outcome of the stress they'd experienced in the Galileo but it was not, however, a disagreeable outcome.  In many ways it was merely one of many possible directions their relationship on the Enterprise could take, perhaps the next best step for them both.  However, forty-eight hours ago the thought of sexual activity with Dr. McCoy would have disconcerted Spock.  But forty-eight hours ago they had not almost died together.  And since they lived, Spock reasoned, they must make the best of what was before them.

They were well matched in many other ways:  both scientists, except for the occasional outburst from McCoy, they worked well together when called upon to do so, they had a healthy respect for the unknown, obviously they could put aside their differences and enjoy each other, especially sexually.  They both admired Captain Kirk.  Captain Kirk.  The Vulcan paused, keeping his liaison secret gave Spock pause but giving it up or telling Kirk and being ordered to give it up were, at this point, not desirable options.  Oh well, as McCoy was fond of saying, I'll think about that tomorrow.

Spock drowsily considered the fact that he had no urge to meld with McCoy.  This was mainly because McCoy did not like it.  He preferred to keep his psychic barriers intact.  Truth be told, Spock preferred not to indulge in casual melding, it left him too open, too vulnerable.  And it was too soon for such intensity.  In some ways the doctor was as closed as Spock, only showing what parts of himself he chose to show.  Spock would not intrude.  He would accept whatever intimacy McCoy would give him as the precious gift it was.  Besides, he wasn't missing the meld.  Not yet; maybe someday but not now.

He rolled over and his last thought before he fell into contented sleep was:  'Leonard McCoy is my lover.  Fascinating.'

* * *

"What would you say if I told you two members of this crew were involved in a homosexual relationship?"

McCoy regarded Kirk evenly over his glass.  "Dunno.  Are you likely to say that?"

It was late and they were alone in McCoy's office in sickbay, finishing up the last of Kirk's Saurian cognac.

"I'm serious about this," Kirk pulled at his glass and continued, "I don't know if I should worry or not."

McCoy shrugged mentally and decided to give up fencing.  "Whom are we talking about?"

"Ensigns West and Royal."

"West?  Janet West?"  Interest edged out relief by a nose.

Kirk nodded.

"and Royal...?"

"Margaret Royal."

"How d'you know they're having a 'homosexual relationship'?"

"They were kissing in the botany lab."

"What were you doing in there?"  Making a mental note about locking doors.

"Oh, walking the ship as is my wont and I wound up there."

"Did they see you?"

"No.  So should I worry?"

"Because they didn't see you?"

"No!  Because..."

"Because two lonely little girls were smooching each other behind the potted palms?  No, Jim, I should say not because if you start worrying 'bout what your ensigns are doing to each other, as long as they are enjoying it, you will not have time left over to run this ship."

Kirk pouted, then did some math.

"We have 225 ensigns on board..."

"And they're likely havin' 350 love affairs between them.  You can't coop up two hundred and twenty-five nineteen year olds and not strike some sparks or have you forgotten?"

"Oh no, I haven't forgotten," Kirk assured him.  "But I always went for girls."

"Then you have something in common with West and Royal."

Kirk frowned.  McCoy sipped patiently at his drink:  "What distresses you about this, Jim?"

"Suppose they quarrel?"

"They'll have fun making up."

Kirk ignored this.

"Suppose they quarrel and it affects their morale and duty."

McCoy took a drink and poured more for both of them.

"Star Fleet spends a lot time and money instilling training and discipline into malleable young minds so that those minds never lose sight of their priority which is their duty.  No one on this ship would be on this ship if they were not the best Star Fleet had to offer.  So quit worryin'.  I've met West, she's as level headed as everyone else 'round here."  He paused. "Would this bother you as much if one of them was a man?"

"If they were in the same department, yes." Kirk smiled.

McCoy was clinically intrigued:  "Does the image of lesbian sex distress or anger you on some level, Jim?"

"Well, no, it kinda excites me."

McCoy thought about his for a moment.  "Well, let's leave that aside until your next psych eval.  Unless we forget about it which is my recommendation."

They drank in companionable silence, Kirk parceled out the last of the bottle.

"What shall we drink to, Bones?"

"Let's drink to love, in all its infinite diversity and creativity."

"Ah, yes."  Clink.

* * *

Perhaps they were cooling off.  Perhaps not.  He hadn't made love to Spock in six days and McCoy was really feeling it.  'Longing, I haven't longed for anyone like this since I was a teenager,' he mused.  But soon the wait would be over, they both had a free afternoon and evening and McCoy dearly hoped to spend it horizontal with Spock.

In addition to hiking the heat up for Spock, McCoy had bathed carefully and put on his outrageous robe.  Since he was fretting with waiting, he decided to pass the time writing to his sisters.  He sat at his viewer, arranging the voluminous skirts around him and got as far as "Dear Girls," before Spock arrived.  And a welcome distraction he was as McCoy hated writing to anyone and loved seeing Spock on his threshold.

"Oh, Spock, there you are at last," he smiled warmly.

"Indeed."  Spock nodded and turned to lock the door.  He was in his usual off duty, around the ship garb - black uniform T-shirt and trousers with a heavy gray sweater on top.  McCoy had always thought it a frumpy outfit, now it all seemed incredibly sexy.

Turning back, Spock regarded the doctor, seated demurely at his table, with appreciation.  The skirts of his robe reminded Spock of an illustration he'd once seen of a Vulcan pre-reformation court costume, most frequently worn by imperial concubines of both sexes.  Pre-reform Vulcan was not a logical place but in some ways it was as, if not more, fascinating than post-reform Vulcan.

McCoy stood, uncomfortable under such scrutiny, regretting he'd worn the robe since it was so flamboyant.

"I find this gown visually pleasing on you, Leonard."  Moving close and circling around behind him.

"Oh?  Don't you think it's a bit much for a simple, unvarnished type such as myself?"

"No."  Spock nuzzled his neck and slipped his arms around McCoy's waist, running his hands over his chest and hips.

McCoy smiled and nestled back into Spock's embrace.  If Spock wanted to pay him compliments he'd just have to suffer through it with as much grace as possible.

"Leonard," Spock stepped back abruptly, "the Captain asked me what you and I were going to do this afternoon."

McCoy turned.  "And what did you say?" Intrigued.

"I said we planned to discuss the prostaglandin system of the organisms we sampled on Kappa 7-12."

"That won't take long, Spock, those organisms don't have a prostaglandin system." He looked at his lover, "However, the lack of one is rather interesting."  They sat to discuss it.

"Feel better?" McCoy asked ten minutes later.

"I do not feel anything, Doctor, I do, however, find it a fascinating subject," Spock commented dryly.

"Yes, but that's enough of it for now, dontcha think?" Smile.

Spock nodded, McCoy stood up from the table.  Still seated, Spock caught his hand and drew him close, looking up at him, eyes unreadable.  The skirts of McCoy's robe rustled intimately against Spock's knees.  Spock took hold of McCoy's waist and moved his hips against the table, then lifted McCoy onto the table and spread his knees apart.  McCoy was surprised and aroused but still modestly clad in his flowing robe.  Spock tugged the sash loose and smoothed his warm hands over McCoy's chest.  He pinched the hot, hard nipples as he found them, easing him into a reclining position on the table while continuing his explorations.

McCoy's erection was becoming obvious beneath the brocade.  Spock moved only enough silk to explore McCoy's trembling rosy cock.

"Lie back, Leonard," he purred, drawing his finger along the bottom of McCoy's penis, kissing the head lightly.

McCoy sighed with pleasure and lay back in perfect bliss.

Spock laid his head on a silk clad thigh and caressed the base of McCoy's arousal with his tongue, nuzzling into the soft brown pubic hair.  His hand massaged McCoy's thighs and groin while he played his lips and tongue over McCoy's hardness.

'It's wonderful,' thought McCoy, relaxing under Spock's hands.  "Oh," he gasped as Spock's tongue circled the head of his cock.

Spock was enthralled by the taste and texture of McCoy's cock.  Also by the reactions he could provoke through various actions.  For example:  sliding his tongue from the helmet to the base caused sighs of pleasure.  However, sliding his teeth at the same velocity and pressure caused McCoy to flinch away from him.  On the other hand, enclosing the head in his mouth and allowing his teeth to close gently beneath the flared bottom while sucking very hard caused writhing, accompanied by low moaning.  Spock was deeply intrigued.  He leaned back to examine the object of his oral attentions.  Examine and caress with one warm hand, fondling his testicles with the other.  In a new found appreciation for such things, Spock concluded that McCoy's cock was lovely.  Perfectly proportioned to his body, smooth, rosy skin, slightly darker at the elegant head, and best of all, it fit perfectly down Spock's throat.

McCoy gasped as his cock was suddenly swallowed and massaged by Spock's powerful tongue and throat muscles.  Fleetingly, he thought Spock's soft palate had a better grip than his own right hand.  Then Spock did an incredible thing and McCoy thought he'd die of pleasure.  Spock began to purr.

"Oh...oh," the vibration against his head, the lovely suction, the sight of Spock so intent with Spock-like intensity.

"Spock!  I'm going to cum," urgently, conflicted between wanting to cum and wanting to continue.

Spock perceptively sensed the doctor's conflict and made the decision for him.  He changed his purr to a growl and began to move maddeningly up and down on McCoy's cock.  McCoy writhed beneath his mouth, doubly so when Spock's powerful tongue stroked the nerves under the helmet with each upward sweep.  It was effective.  Spock tasted sweet, salty drops on his tongue and McCoy began to make sounds Spock identified as orgasmic.

Spock increased his pace until he felt McCoy thrusting helplessly up and cry out.  Spock forced the spewing cock down his throat and swallowed and swallowed until McCoy was empty, panting and limp.  Slowly, teasingly he pulled his mouth off McCoy, gently sucking, still playing his tongue over the now flaccid organ, making McCoy moan and sigh.

Spock sat back for a moment, simply contemplating his satiated lover.  Feeling the gaze, McCoy opened his dilated blue eyes and fixed Spock with a look of pure sexual euphoria and...the same look that had so pleased and confused the Vulcan on the Galileo was there again.  The combination was devastating to Spock but he quickly mastered himself.  Rising, carefully closing the robe and retying the sash, he picked up the pliant McCoy and carried him to he bed.

"You're always carrying me around my cabin," McCoy murmured vaguely.

"Does it displease you?"

"No, I like it, makes me feel ..."

"What?"

"...yours."

Spock held him a little tighter and had no words.  He laid him gently on the bed and sat next to him.

McCoy cuddled up and whispered:  "You're wearin' too much clothing, Spock.  Get rid of it.  I turned up the heat so you won't freeze."

"Most thoughtful of you, Leonard."

"Logical, too, dontcha think?  Erectile tissues in mammals respond poorly to cold temperatures and this situation cries out for hard, happy, erect tissues, correct?"

Spock raised his brows and nodded, rather impressed.  He pulled off his sweater, folded it and laid it neatly on the chest of drawers.  McCoy leaned back patiently to watch Spock's methodical striptease, rest and gather strength for the next course.  He smiled, admiring the powerfully beautiful body efficiently being revealed.

"Yes, very logical, Leonard, well done."

"All for you, Spock."

Spock looked down at him, cock rising.

"Yes.  All for me."

He lay down and pulled an amused human into his arms.

"Yes, Spock.  All for you," McCoy murmured between kisses.

Spock rolled on top of him and rubbed sensuously against the brocade and McCoy's renewing erection under it.

"Let me take this off...," McCoy began.

"Not yet," Spock commanded.

That low, imperative voice sent a shiver of pleasure through McCoy.

Spock held him close and looked into his eyes.

"What are you thinking, Leonard?"

'How come I don't fuck you?' he thought, but said:  "How much I'm enjoying this."

Spock kissed him, softly:  "Perhaps we might do something new this afternoon."

"Like what?"  McCoy was thinking: 'bondage? SM?  I'm practically in drag, so we've done that.'

Spock rolled onto his back and seated McCoy over his hips, tugging open the robe and arranging the skirts over his legs.  McCoy thought that was a bit odd but, oh well, and he reached down to stroke them together.  Spock reached for the lubricant, silent and intent.

McCoy continued his massage as Spock moved his hands around behind and under him, he felt Spock slip his middle finger inside him.  McCoy squirmed a bit as Spock's second finger joined the first.

Spock squeezed some lubricant onto the doctor's hands.  McCoy smoothed the gel on both cocks while Spock reached under the human's hips and maneuvered his anus over the head of his very hard, slippery cock and waited.  McCoy braced his hand on his thighs as he felt Spock slowly withdrawing his support.

McCoy let himself sink down a little, felt uncomfortable and moved back up.  Spock merely watched him as he stroked McCoy's cock teasingly.

'This really is up to me, isn't it?'  McCoy thought and descended again.  This time he consciously relaxed all his muscles and pushed against Spock's penis.  It was a bit of a struggle but the head suddenly popped inside.

McCoy gasped in surprise and discomfort and would have pulled off had not Spock's strong hand on his hips held him still, soothing him, supporting him.

McCoy was panting, adjusting, stretching.  He looked into Spock's dark eyes, watching him, and saw the demanding message there:  pleasure me.  McCoy, thrilled, let his eyes half close and thought, 'so, I will.'

Spock returned his hands to McCoy's penis as McCoy slowly sank down upon the full length of the Vulcan cock.  McCoy took his time, and once fully impaled, ground down and around a bit, just to see what effect this would have on the already flushed and panting Vulcan.  It caused Spock to grab McCoy's hips and thrust helplessly up into him.

"Steady, Spock," McCoy murmured, moving Spock's hot hands back to his erection.

McCoy paused, visualized some anatomy and clenched his muscles in an upward sweep around Spock's penis.  Spock's eyes widened in lasciviousness and his chest began to rise higher.

McCoy was stroking the Vulcan frantic while barely moving.  Spock tried to thrust up once or twice but gravity and the doctor were against him.  He finally just lay back and let pleasure wash over him.

McCoy began to move in slow ovals, sliding infinitesimally upward as he did.  He felt very powerful as his every motion sent a shiver of pleasure through the fevered, trembling body beneath him.

McCoy increased his range, sliding a little further up the Vulcan cock and down again.  Spock thrust gently up to meet him as he descended and McCoy, very generously, allowed him to do so.

McCoy leaned back to change his angle slightly and gasped as he slid Spock's hard penis across his own prostate.  He had been hard but now he was rock hard and enjoyed it so much, he did it again and again, faster and faster.

This was fine with Spock, who was very ready to cum and waiting for McCoy out of good manners.  He thrust up to meet him, matching his pace, stroking his slippery cock, enjoying the frantic rustle of the silk accompanying their building climax.

McCoy was gasping for breath, head thrown back, flinging himself down the full length of Spock's hardness with wild abandon.  Every stroke brought him a little closer to the sweet oblivion he so desperately sought.  It was all he wanted, would have killed for it.

At just that moment, however, Spock grabbed his hips and forced him all the way down on his cock and held him there.

McCoy howled and squirmed like a wild thing:  "No!  Spock!  Lemme go!"

Spock growled low in this throat and came as McCoy's struggles pushed him over the edge.

Feeling Spock pumping into him, feeling his own cock pressed hard against Spock's belly, giving one last twist of rebellion against the masterful hands, McCoy pushed all the air out of his lungs and exploded onto the Vulcan.  Shuddering with release, he fell forward into Spock's strong arms.  He lay his head on Spock's shoulder, trying to catch his breath while Spock stroked his silk covered back, soothing him.

"Now can I take off this damn robe?"

"Now, Leonard, you may do anything you wish."

* * *

They showered together and it was pleasant even though Enterprise showers were designed with one occupant in mind.  Of necessity, they were all over each other but that was what made it ... pleasant.

"Wouldn't we be happier having a snack here instead of dining with Jim, in public?" McCoy asked reasonably as he dressed.

"I would not know, Leonard," Spock said, pulling his gray sweater over his head.  "The Captain asked us to dine tonight and we have no acceptable reason to refuse."

"True; we're flush out of prostaglandins."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, Spock, you're right, it will be wonderful."

'And,' McCoy added to himself, 'I will do my level best not to think about how much I want to slide under the table and suck your cock in front of god and everybody.'

Spock regarded him, almost fondly:  "We can, of course, return here or to my quarters after dinner," he ventured.

"Oh?  Good!  So there is something to look forward to."  McCoy zipped his boots up, looked up.  "And if he asks you to play chess, what then?"

"Then I will meet you here or in my quarters after I have played chess with Captain Kirk."

McCoy knew that tone, there was no arguing with it, so he didn't.  He stood, obedient, acquiesced, resigned, and, now that he was all those things, found himself looking forward to a cozy dinner with the captain and his lover (the first officer), Spock (his lover); with Jim and Spock.

'I can do this, I know I can do this,' McCoy thought, 'I'll be fine once I get outta this overheated room and the cold air in the corridor hits me.  Inhale.  Exhale.'

He looked at Spock, who was studying him with scientific detachment and felt reassured by his gaze.  Reassured, comforted and ready for anything right up until the door buzzed.

Spock's gaze flew over McCoy's left shoulder to the thrashed bed and the black robe sprawled lasciviously in the middle of the wreckage and back to McCoy, who was wondering if they could just not answer and decided, no, that would be unwise, and called "come."

Kirk strode in, smiling, looking hungry:  "Gentlemen," he nodded. "I'm starving.  Are you ready?"

Spock was nonplused.

"As we'll ever be," McCoy smiled fondly at his old friend and dearly hoped his new lover would snap out of it pretty damn quick.

"Yes, we are ready," Spock rumbled, coming to life and moving toward the door.

"Why is it so hot in here?" Kirk queried, looking around.

"Feelin' a mite cold, Jim," McCoy volleyed back.

Kirk glanced over McCoy's right shoulder and caught sight of the unmade bed.  (Spock returned to stone.)  He gave the doctor a stern look:  "Bones, what a slob you are," he admonished.

McCoy gazed mildly back at him:  "It's my day off, 'mother'."

"Even so ..." Kirk trailed off, clucking his tongue, leading them out of McCoy's quarters and off to a very pleasant dinner indeed.

* * *

It transpired that evening that Kirk did not ask Spock to play chess, preferring to catch up on his reading instead.

Spock and McCoy walked him to his quarters and proceeded the short distance to Spock's quarters.  Where, once inside, they flung themselves on each other like crazed tribbles.

McCoy leaned back in Spock's arms, laughing as Spock muttered "door lock" with some urgency.

"What amuses you, Doctor?" Squeezing him.

"Our performance for Jim.  It's so easy to behave as if there is nothing between us and then you touch me and I'm almost overwhelmed by what is between us."

Spock clasped McCoy's ass in both hands and pulled him against the rising Vulcan cock:  "Would what is now between us be an example of that which you speak," he intoned dryly, then added, "Leonard," warmly.

McCoy nestled into Spock's arms and allowed himself to feel secure and loved, even though he knew the latter was rather farfetched, but, oh well.

Sensing McCoy's mood, Spock damped down his urgency and gentled his embrace.

McCoy turned his head to press his lips to Spock's.  Being almost as tall as Spock, he didn't have to go too far to get to his lips.  'And wonderful lips they are,' thought McCoy, 'soft, warm, gentle.'

Spock leaned back, looking as serious as a heart attack:  "Fibroblasts."

"What of them?" McCoy hissed pulling him back into the kiss.

Spock leaned back again a moment later:  "Fibroblasts are what we discussed, after dinner, this evening, in my quarters."

"They are" kiss, nip, "one of," nuzzle, "my favorite," kiss, thrust, "subjects."

They devoured each other for a few more moments and moved to the bed.

McCoy yanked off all this clothes and went for Spock's.  He was restrained and inserted into Spock's bed with a mild "Patience, Leonard, I will be with you in 43.2 standard seconds."  McCoy wiggled in impatience, nevertheless, muttering, "Hurry up."

Spock slid beside him, embraced him and it was wonderful.

"Spock, I have a question?"

"Yes, Leonard?"

"How come I never get to penetrate, as you say, you?"

Spock paused before answering.  "Do you want to .. penetrate me?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Well, sometime in the course of this evening, yes."

Spock was silent, mulling it over.

"Why do you hesitate?" McCoy asked coolly.

"Because I have never been penetrated before."

"Oh, so, you're a virgin.  Well; I'll be gentle."

"I have no doubt, Leonard," Spock laid back and spread his legs.

McCoy, no fool he, settled himself between Spock's thighs and reached for the lubricant Spock kept by the bed.

Spock tensed, imperceptibly.  'Very direct,' he thought, impressed.

So Spock was rather puzzled when McCoy merely laid the container on the bed next to them and bent to give him a long, warm kiss.  Spock ran his hands over McCoy's back and shoulders, relaxing into the kiss as McCoy had hoped he would.

"There, Spock; relax.  I won't hurt you."  'As if I could,' he thought.

Spock looked into the mild blue eyes and gave himself over to McCoy.  

McCoy, more perceptive than he let on, felt the subtle energy shift and was, himself, reassured.  He dragged his tongue down to Spock's nipples and around, pausing to suck on them a bit, just to warm his lips up, then caressed his way to Spock's arching cock.  He paused to smooth his fingers through the jetty pubic thatch, breathing softly against the base and scrotum.

Spock was very aroused, very trusting and shivered with pleasure as McCoy's mouth closed over the head of his penis.

'It is a wonderful mouth,' Spock thought, 'firm, soft lips, gentle teeth, clever tongue..oh...'

McCoy played with the head, sucking it, licking it, paying special attention to the band of nerves he discovered under the nicely flared helmet.  He reached for the lubricant and applied some to his right fingers, never pausing in his oral ministrations, working his left hand up and under Spock, began easing his slippery middle finger into the Vulcan.

Spock's eyes flew open and with some difficulty resisted the urge to flee so personal (but exciting!) an invasion.  Reminding himself what they were about (not to mention that it was a pleasant sensation once he was more used to it), made himself relax.  So much so, that McCoy felt encouraged to slip in a second finger, pumping them gently in and out.

Vulcan anatomy was still a sketchy subject in Star Fleet medicine so McCoy didn't know if he would find what he was looking for.  He was, therefore, very gratified to hear Spock gasp with pleasure as he rubbed his fingertips over the hard place behind the base of Spock's penis.

'Oh, good,' he thought, 'I've discovered the Vulcan love button.  What a shame I can't publish and have it named after me.'

Interesting as this train of thought was, McCoy felt that Spock was as ready to be fucked as McCoy was ready to fuck him.

"Roll over, Spock, please," McCoy whispered, politely, reaching for a pillow to support Spock's hips.  He carefully arranged Spock's hips and legs, gently massaged Spock's hard buttocks, spreading them, relaxing them.

McCoy lubed up and moved forward to center his cock against the tight ring of Vulcan flesh.

Spock tensed reflexively but McCoy had gravity and viscosity on his side and after a few seconds of coaxing and insistence succeeded in slipping the head in.  And was suddenly in serious discomfort, having underestimated Vulcan reflexive muscle strength - his cock was held in a hot noose and could neither move forward nor pull out.

"Spock, for god's sake, relax!" McCoy grated out between clenched teeth.  'Before I faint,' he added to himself.

Spock, now over the initial shock of his first penetration, mastered himself and complied with McCoy's wishes.

"My apologies, Leonard, are you all right?" Obligingly arching his ass to facilitate McCoy's cock slowly sliding all the way in.

"Yes," McCoy panting, paused, resting his groin against Spock's ass.  "But you are not, I repeat, not to cum while I'm inside you."

"Understood."

McCoy wondered if there was a note of petulance in that, felt bad for a moment and then decided to cheer up.  Having caught his breath, he adjusted his knees and began cheerfully fucking the snug Vulcan ass beneath him.  He stroked gently at first, finding a rhythm they both enjoyed, speeding up and cooling off as it pleased him.

Spock was also enjoying himself although it was increasingly difficult to forestall his climax, Vulcan control notwithstanding, especially as McCoy's penis stroked his prostate with every thrust.  Thrusts that were now coming faster and harder.

"Leonard, ...I fear I will be unable to..." he began, panting.

"Shhhh," McCoy gasped savagely as he slammed into him, on the very edge of climax ... and then over, his cock jerking inside the Vulcan.

Spock, feeling McCoy's cock pulsing inside him, dug his fingers into the bed in effort but could not stop the climax that welled up and over him.  He clenched and McCoy jumped in surprise but not pain and then sank down onto Spock's back.

They lay together, catching their breath.  After a moment, McCoy leaned forward:  "I thought I told you not to cum," he teased.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Leonard."

"I am hardly" he pulled out, "disappointed, Spock," and then pulled the otherwise limp Vulcan into his arms.  As usual, Spock's penis was still hard.

"Why does it stay hard after you cum?"

"Progeny are crucial to Vulcans therefore we have evolved in ways that ensure conception."

McCoy was silent for a moment:  "So that you can have multiple ejaculations and still stay hard forever."

"Precisely."

"Fascinating."

* * *

It was a very pleasant routine they'd established over the intervening months, McCoy thought, stone cold sober, waiting for Spock on their afternoon.  Once their passion settled down a bit, they spent, duty allowing, the afternoon and ensuing night of their free day together.  Ostensibly, they discussed whatever was happening in the science labs, and they did, briefly, discuss such subjects, but mostly they made love - at various speeds and intensities and durations, McCoy added to himself.

Sex was wonderful with Spock, more sex with him would have been oppressive, less sex, like starving.

Neither knew if they were good lovers, nor did they care - they pleased each other and only cared about that.

McCoy had once made a thumbnail survey of the ratio of fucking Spock to being fucked by Spock.  It turned out that every one in five encounters McCoy was the active partner, he didn't count the times when he got to be on top, only those when he penetrated the Vulcan.

He'd concluded that this was no bad thang (he liked Spock inside him) due to the strange fact that when they joined, from the first moment of physical contact, they were so in tune with each other that everything was perfect.  It was wonderful.

Except when McCoy had had too much to drink.  He smiled ruefully, remembering the first time he'd had one too many brandies while waiting for Spock.  It was not wonderful, Spock was annoyed and let it show.  He finally placed his hands on the side of McCoy's face and McCoy felt his happy brandy haze whirling up and up and out of the top of his head and away.  Leaving him Stone. Cold. Sober.

"Spock!  What a waste of good liquor," McCoy gritted as Spock dragged him to his own bed.

"I prefer not to have sex with you when you are incapacitated."

"I wasn't incapacitated.  I was just ... very mellow."  He sulked.

Spock had lost interest in conversation, being intent on undressing them both.  McCoy gave up sulking and gave in, helping Spock off with his clothes and slipping docilely into bed, still soft but eager to have that be changed.

'I'll be passive,' McCoy thought, 'he'll like that.'

McCoy was then somewhat shocked when Spock immediately reached for the lubricant and crouched between his legs.

"Spock..." McCoy began tentatively, trying to think of a way to slow the Vulcan down.

Spock glanced up from sliding one, two then three fingers into McCoy in quick and efficient succession.  He'd, however, made a point of giving McCoy's prostate a quick, hard massage in the process and felt vindicated when McCoy's cock sprang to full hardness, as expected.

"Nothing," McCoy hissed, going from tentative to hysterically aroused in a nanosecond.

Spock arranged McCoy's legs around his waist, rolled him back and centered his slippery cock at the entrance of McCoy's body.  He waited, eyes hooded, to feel McCoy open to him.

McCoy gathered himself, relaxed and eased up ever so slightly against his lover's hardness.  Spock looked at him as he pushed the head gently past the tight ring of flesh and stopped there, waiting for McCoy to adjust to their joining.  Once he felt the tiny rebellion that always accompanied the first moments of this act subside in McCoy, Spock slid in, hit bottom and proceeded to leisurely fuck McCoy silly.

Spock idly noted that McCoy was, in fact, enjoying it but really didn't care.  He was musing on McCoy's intoxication.  It annoyed him because it so dulled McCoy's minimal telepathic abilities as to make satisfactory consummation impossible.  He was still rather annoyed but sufficiently aroused to overlook it - this time.

Spock was getting close, his strokes were longer and harder, he could feel McCoy moving with him toward climax.  He slid all the way in and gathered McCoy into his arms, held him close, soothing them both.

'Too soon,' Spock thought, pumping just enough to stay hard.

'I'm going to swoon from this pleasure,' McCoy thought, rubbing his cock against Spock's warm, furry belly.

Spock kissed his neck and under his tender ear, sucking gently on the soft lobe.

McCoy sighed, lay back passively and hoped Spock didn't mind.  He felt Spock's teeth closing on his ear lobe and decided that, yes, Spock did mind and roused himself.  He tightened his arms around Spock's neck and pulled him into a warm kiss (thus saving his ear lobe) and gently bucked his hips against Spock, who left him very little room to maneuver.  He broke the kiss:  "Fuck me, Spock," he whispered, sultry, urgent.  "Please fuck me."

Spock mentally smiled very smugly and obeyed his lover with great thoroughness.  His thrusts became harder, longer as he and McCoy rose together toward orgasm.  For a few confusing seconds each held back to wait for the other to come first.  Spock made the decision for McCoy by slamming into him twice, hard, and thus shoved McCoy over the edge into wild bliss.  Feeling McCoy's cum splash between them and his ass clenching around him, Spock flung himself on his lover and let go a flood of hot semen, his cock jerking and pulsing inside the writhing, panting human.

He looked down at McCoy, who looked back at him with cloyed blue eyes.

McCoy slid his hands seductively up Spock's arms and shoulders to urge him down, into his arms.

Spock, however, stayed where he was, looming above him, chest moving, eyes inscrutable.

'Well, then be stubborn, Vulcan,' McCoy thought, flopping back, going limp as a rag doll.

After a moment, Spock, still hard, started to move again inside him.  McCoy looked up at him, shocked and somewhat alarmed.

"It is always an option, Leonard," Spock rumbled, fucking a bit harder.

McCoy was enthralled but unfortunately exhausted from his own orgasm.

Spock did not seem to care, intent on his own pleasure, but McCoy roused himself a little to participate, if only to remind Spock that Spock was on a first name basis with the man beneath him.

Spock, sensing this, slowed a little and leaned down to kiss McCoy, lingering, intuiting and deciding.  Deciding he'd take care of the doctor's pleasure later because he was aching hard and McCoy was just too far behind to catch up.

Alas, Spock thought, I will make it up to him ... later, and gave up thought.  He leaned back and pounded into McCoy's unresisting body until he came with an animal-like cry.  This time he did fall into McCoy's arms, spent and panting.

McCoy held his trembling lover tight and murmured soothing sounds.  Emotionally, McCoy was a very compassionate creature and could feel great tenderness for Spock, even in those moments when Spock displayed his single mindedness for his own pleasure and total disregard for the doctor's.

'Oh well,' McCoy thought, massaging Spock's shoulders, 'doesn't happen very often and he's so beautiful when he comes - ummm- 'spose I'll hafta let him live.'

Spock shook himself a little and pulled out.  He continued to lay on top of McCoy for the warmth and because he was wiped out.

'In a minute, I will get up,' he thought, falling into a profound doze.

'Well, at least he doesn't snore,' thought McCoy, wide awake, well fucked, one climax short and Stone. Cold. Sober.

As sober as he was at present, remembering that afternoon with much pleasure.

The second time Spock had found his lover two and three quarter sheets to the wind was a less pleasant encounter.

Assessing the situation, irritated, he had simply undressed McCoy, put him to bed, bid the doctor a testy good afternoon, and left.  McCoy had been deeply annoyed.

"I'm not that smashed," he snarled to the room in general, dozing off over his revenge plans.

(Spock's thought are unknown.  He barricaded himself in his lab and was not seen until dinner.)

* * *

McCoy sat down to dine that same evening, the very picture of health, vitality and sobriety.  Even Kirk commented on how well he was looking.

McCoy had awoken earlier that afternoon with resolve to salvage what was left of his day with Spock.  He marched into Sickbay and whipped up a hypospray of palliandexatrine and mzeobenzadrine derivatives, added a splash of niacin and ascorbic acid.  This fabulous concoction he'd discovered in med school - the stimulants got you through whatever and the vitamins fixed you up when you crashed.  It was wonderful.  The whatever McCoy had to get through today was a grueling flat out ten kilometer run on the gym track that would drive all the liquor (as well as the speed and any other lurking toxins) thoroughly out of his system.

McCoy hated exercise and he allowed his hyper brain to contemplate this as he rounded the track for the nth (he thought) time.  The only exercise he could tolerate was running because it was mindless and over quickly.  McCoy was glad to be alone on the track, he knew he was not a pretty sight - sweaty, gasping but feeling absolutely no pain whatsoever.

McCoy hit the 10 kilometer mark, circled once more, just for luck and proceed to scald himself under a hot shower until the vitamins kicked in, which they obligingly did.  He returned to Sickbay where he dosed himself with terran B complex and borian herbs, drank two liters of water and, just to be thorough, gave himself a high colonic.  After a short nap and a bracing cold shower he felt purified, inside and out.

Blue eyes sparkling, skin glowing, in excellent spirits, McCoy made his way to dinner and was devastatingly charming to everyone.

"I'm pleased to see you in such a good mood, Bones," Kirk smiled at him.  "I've been worried that you're working too hard.  You and Spock are working too hard," he added, munching his salad.

"I love my work, Jim," McCoy glanced at Spock, "I find it fascinating, compelling, exciting..."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kirk interposed, "I want you to be happy."

"But I am happy, very happy," McCoy asserted.

"Well ... good!" Kirk laughed, charmed.

Spock pushed his plate away:  "A game of chess, Captain?"

* * *

"'A game of chess, Captain?'!" he snarled when the Vulcan came to parade rest before him in McCoy's cabin eighty-seven point six standard minutes later.

"Indeed, Leonard, chess with the Captain after dinner is the usual custom on such evenings or is there something unusual about this evening that I have failed to notice?"  He gazed calmly into McCoy's angry blue eyes, waiting for them to soften.  They did not.  McCoy drew a breath:  "I went to a great deal of trouble this afternoon to sober up for you..." he began savagely.

"And I am here to enjoy the fruits of your labors, if" Spock cut in smoothly, "Doctor, you are still so inclined," watching him.

McCoy weighted his potential pleasure against his current indignation and decided to bet on the future.  He dropped his eyes and pouted.  No response ('of course not,' he thought).  He let his lips draw naturally into a wry smile and looked up at Spock with warm, frank, come hither eyes.

Spock was pleased to see that his lover promised to be reasonable and went hither to draw the human into his arms.

McCoy nestled into them with relief and allowed the peace and security (and love? nah) he felt in Spock's arms wash over him.  He could feel the Vulcan's cock rising against him so he allowed some erotic feelings to wash over him, too.

"I am ... pleased to be here tonight, Leonard," Spock murmured, "were you not so ... radiant at dinner I would have found another occupation for this evening."

McCoy gave him a searching look:  "Really?" he asked seriously.

"Really," Spock answered seriously.

McCoy nodded, thinking, 'well, now I know where that boundary is.'  He sighed and gently rubbed his crotch against Spock's, changing the subject.

Spock was encouraged and aroused by this simple action and impatient with preliminaries.  He'd very much missed his afternoon of lovemaking and was feeling its lack.

Spock turned to kiss McCoy in a way that communicated to the doctor that he wanted no mischief this evening; snuffing out McCoy's micro-rebellion with a hand on his ass and his tongue forcing McCoy's mouth open.

'Impressive,' McCoy thought, giving in, snuggling submissively in Spock's strong arms.  'Okay okay, Spock, I read you loud and clear, you are in charge tonight and I am all yours.'

/Yes, all mine/ McCoy thought he heard somewhere inside his head but it was the aural equivalent of catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.  Disconcerting but not dreadful.

Spock came to some decision and guided McCoy to the bed but did not move to undress him, simply looked into his eyes.  He then dropped a pillow on the deck between them and fixed McCoy with a compelling gaze, waiting.

McCoy looked down and hesitated, thinking, 'if I do this, then what? if I don't do this, then what?'

Spock waited, suspended until McCoy made his own decision.

McCoy sank to his knees before Spock and looked up at him with polite interest, hoping it was cover enough for his trepidation.

Spock seated himself on the edge of the bed and opened his trousers, spreading his knees apart for McCoy to move between them.  'If he will,' Spock thought.

He did.  McCoy was beginning to feel strangely excited by all this.  He moved Spock's hands away, drawing Spock's rigid cock out and bent to run his lips over the silky head.  He draped his tongue over the tip and slid it seductively along the flared ridges.  Spock ran his fingers through McCoy's thick brown hair and sighed with pleasure.  The pleasure of his lover's tongue on his cock and the pleasure of having so thoroughly made his point.  It was indubitably established that he was in charge of the evening's activities ... (oh) ... and now it was time to move on ... (oh!) ... move on, in a few moments ....

With some effort he pulled McCoy off his cock and undressed him quickly, then undressed himself even more quickly.  Spock lay full length on the doctor, kissing him languidly, tasting himself on McCoy's lips.  He leaned back for a breath:  "How pleasant this is, Leonard," he almost sighed.

"Uh huh," sultry, softly, spreading his legs, wrapping them around Spock's waist, reaching up for another kiss.

With gentle pushes and shoves, McCoy maneuvered them into a sixty-nine and again gave his full attention to the Vulcan's cock.

McCoy liked this position because it felt so egalitarian.  Spock enjoyed it for its symmetry and the heightened telepathic energy that accompanied such symmetry.  He also enjoyed driving McCoy wild and feeling it translated onto his own cock.

'Ah, the simple joys,' he thought, swallowing the doctor's hard rosy shaft.

McCoy was beyond thought, his whole being consumed by the erotic pleasure he was giving as well as receiving.  He nuzzled at the base of Spock's cock, sucked on his testicles, one at a time (they were big), and returned to swirl his tongue around the head and down the sides.

Spock had moved down to inhale McCoy's balls and roll them around in his mouth for a while.  From this unique vantage he could appreciate just how thoroughly McCoy had purified himself for the Vulcan.  Gently spreading the doctor's cheeks, Spock lightly caressed the center of McCoy's body with his fingertips.

McCoy sighed around the hard flesh and his lips stroked the shaft in response.

Encouraged, Spock let McCoy's scrotum slip slowly from his jaws and his tongue behind it, then down to circle the tight opening.

McCoy sucked in a surprised breath and a millimeter or so more of Spock and froze in the headlights of this new sensation.

Undeterred, Spock continued his explorations.  'If he really does not enjoy this sensation,' Spock thought, probing the opening with the tip of his tongue.  'He will tell me to stop,' he reasoned.  For an answer, McCoy moaned softy and Spock felt his balls twitch beneath his chin.

'Ah,' Spock thought, probing deeper, thrusting as much of his hard, wet tongue into McCoy as he could.

McCoy gripped Spock's hips in helpless, shocked bliss.  This was like nothing he ever thought of, let alone experienced and he was in a rush of sensation, suddenly on the edge of climax.

"thploulk," he whimpered around the hard flesh down his throat.

The Vulcan reluctantly returned to sucking McCoy's balls, or rather, he held them firmly in his mouth and pulled them away from McCoy's body to forestall the doctor's orgasm.  McCoy winced gratefully as he felt his climax recede to manageable proportions.  Spock was really hard, he noted, but obviously not ready for either of them to cum.  He shivered in the ghost of the sensation of Spock's probing tongue and relaxed, waiting.

Spock was thinking, he let the calmed sack slip from his lips again and ran his tongue around the base of McCoy's cock.  Still considering, he swirled his tongue up and along the hard, smooth sides and around the curvaceous head, tasting the sweet salty drops that were the evidence of McCoy's impetuosity.

The first thing he decided was to not tease McCoy for very much longer and how he wished to accomplish this.  Spock planted a kiss on the tip of McCoy's cock and murmured:  "Leonard, lie on your stomach, please," reaching for the lubricant.

McCoy complied, as always, thrilled to his core by that deep, imperative voice when it was made hoarse by desire; for him.

Spock knelt between McCoy's thighs and pulled the doctor's groin onto his lap, holding him securely so his genitals would not be rubbed provocatively.

Spock considered the necessity, and, deciding it was, slipped a little lubricant inside McCoy, who nearly broke Spock's fingers by flinging himself back onto them.  Rather impressed, Spock quickly lubed his own cock and pulled a surprised McCoy upright, his anus over the head of the Vulcan's cock and held the doctor suspended securely there, waiting for a sign to continue.

McCoy wasn't sure about this - it was new and felt awkward but ... oh well.  He relaxed down in Spock's arms, against Spock's cockhead which obligingly slipped in.  McCoy paused to adjust.  Spock, always a gentleman in these matters, supported his weight while he did, and, once recovered, sank to the root in one fluid motion.  Spock exhaled in a rush and had to summon every once of control he possessed not to cum in that instant.  He held McCoy firmly impaled on his lap, fighting for mastery of the violent tremors that shook them both.

McCoy was very still, waiting for Spock to pull himself together.  He put his hands over Spock's and moved one to his own erect penis.

Spock petted the doctor, felt him clench reflexively, petting him back.  McCoy dropped his head back on Spock's shoulder, arching, twisting a little in Spock's lap, ready to be fucked silly, trying to communicate that; he was beyond words.

Getting the message, Spock kissed his lover's neck and began gently thrusting into McCoy's snug ass.  It was wonderful.  They found an erotic groove and stayed there.  The Vulcan stroking his lover's cock and being stroked himself.  Gently biting McCoy's neck, ear, shoulder, caressing his chest and being rewarded with sighs, moans and moisture on the rosy tip.  Spock slowed his motions, McCoy began to struggle and thrust downward, grunting in frustration.  Spock held him fast:  "Shh, my Leonard, not yet," whispered into the delicate ear, leaning back on his heels, drawing the human along with him.

McCoy relaxed - there was no alternative - he could feel Spock's chest rising and falling against his back.

Spock was pumping gently, just enough to keep them both hard, suspending them, waiting.

There was often, not always, alas, a moment in their couplings when the human's consciousness would transcend its limitations and reach out to Spock.  Spock longed for these moments, sought them, treasured them, and now felt one to be near at hand.

McCoy was drifting on a sea of pleasure and peace, held lovingly within and without.  Held by Spock, his lover, the most wonderful lover ever.  At this thought, a wave of bliss swept from his toes to the top of his head and kept going.  And Spock was right there, to twine and merge his own bliss with McCoy's.

They floated a moment, establishing themselves in the oneness, in bliss, and then Spock began to move.

He stroked McCoy's cock and chest, released him enough so the doctor could meet Spock's thrusts with his own.  They were one motion, quickening, fluid, abandoned, bringing each other higher, closer.  Spock's long hard strokes on McCoy's cock finally brought the doctor to a shattering orgasm, twisting and thrusting against the warm hands that held him firmly and completely impaled in Spock's lap.  Spock held on as long as he could against McCoy's gyrations and clenching and came with a sigh.  Holding the faint, trembling McCoy tight and still on his pulsing organ, rolling his head back in ecstasy.

They were still, breathing hard, recovering, settling back into their own bodies.  Spock focused himself and gently lay the limp, spent human on the bed, slowly withdrawing his softening cock with some regret.

Would that we could always be like this, he thought.

It would be much too much, Spock heard softly somewhere in his mind.  He smiled, kissing McCoy's shoulder in gratitude (it's wonderful to be understood), and ... what?  ... I seem to recall ... what!  This reminds me ...! (!)  His fight or flight center kicked into warp and he was suddenly grabbing for his clothes.

"Spock?  What in the flyin' hell are you doin'?" McCoy rolled over and looked at him.

"I must go," firmly.

"It's only 21:30 hours, Spock," glancing at the bedside chrono.  "The night is young."

Spock froze, looked numbly at the chrono, at McCoy, dropped his clothes and lay down again.

Intrigued, McCoy snuggled up and surreptitiously reached for a pulse point.

"Your heart's goin' a mile a minute."

No answer

"What's wrong?" he said with concern.

Spock's lips moved but no sound came out.

I love you.

"What?" McCoy sat up, made eye contact.

I love you.

"I didn't quite catch that, Spock," not believing what he'd just lip read.

Spock sighed and enunciated very clearly in his low clear baritone:  "I love you."

McCoy focused on the chrono, 21:32, trying to hide the rush of shock, elation, confusion and joy raging in him.  He reached for blankets and settled against Spock's chest, covering them, warming them.  McCoy cleared this throat:  "I love you, too, Spock," McCoy said quietly, trying, himself, to be calm so as not to spook the Vulcan anymore than he already was.  This was a shocking as well as elating event for the doctor.  He could not, however, quite read where Spock was at with it, except for his panic reaction.

'I've had that reaction myself,' thought McCoy.

Pause.  "What do we do now, Leonard?" Spock asked quietly.

McCoy drew a breath, let it out:  "We do," he said, "the best we can."

* * *

The door chime returned McCoy to the sober present.  It was Spock:  "I apologize for my lateness, it was unavoidable.  Mr. Gaillard has obtained some fascinating results in his recent research and wished to discuss them.  I could not disengage sooner."

"It's all right, Spock," vaguely, "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Us."

"And?"

Pause.  "We're wonderful."

Spock moved closer to sniff McCoy's breath.

"What?" McCoy snarled.

"You smell good," blandly prevaricating.

"Oh," gentling, smiling, somewhat stunned by this unusual tack, "well ... good."  He looked into attentive dark eyes.

Spock nodded, raised his hand and gently caressed McCoy's cheek.  They jumped at a shipwide page:  "Mr. Spock to the bridge."

McCoy gently struck Spock's chest with his fist:  "I'll see you later," firmly.

"Yes, later," equally firmly and he left.

* * *

END OF PROLOGUE

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