Feedback: It makes the plotbunnies breed

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Lupercalia
2003 Angel
*****
 
 

Spock was puzzled. Fascinated, but puzzled. Why humans of the 23rd century
saw the need to celebrate a fertility festival of a long-vanished religion
mystified him. Nonetheless, the Enterprise was showing signs of love in the
air.

Pink icing on the dessert cakes. (Spock did not indulge, as it was simple
carbohydrates and of no nutritional value)

A stylized heart on the wall of the common room. (Spock refrained from
commenting that it looked more like a representation of the female buttocks
as seen from behind than an actual human heart)

Little cards and notes floating between members of the crew. (Spock hadn't
gotten one)

He'd spent the afternoon researching the phenomenon. Lovemaking was a
private and primitive thing for Vulcans, and Spock had gone clear back to
the origins of the holiday. While a full-scale lupercal would be beyond the
reaches of Starfleet decorum, he saw no reason not to engage his lover in
the celebration.

He used his executive authority to clear the decks between Sickbay and his
cabin. He would not be seen in this state by anyone other than his own
Leonard. Forcefields went up, keeping wayward crew from the area.

Spock went to his cabin and prepared. The uniform dispenser balked at his
orders, and he overrode it. Ready, he marched to Sickbay.

Leonard McCoy was ignoring the whole Valentine's Day nonsense. There were
drawbacks to having a Vulcan lover. He wouldn't have a red card, or a box
of exotic candies or even a coupon for an erotic massage awaiting him when
he got off duty. Ten minutes. He would be headed back to Spock's quarters
and making love to his (literally) hot-blooded lover. He grinned at the
medical pun.

The door opened.

Without looking up, McCoy said "I'm off duty in five minutes. If it can't
wait see Dr. Mbenga."

"On the contrary, Leonard. It is you I am here to see."

McCoy looked up, his face breaking into a smile that turned into shock when
he saw what Spock was wearing. Or to be more accurate, wasn't wearing.
Aside from a belt of grey fur, Spock was naked. His long limbs with their
dark hair, his chest with the faintly green nipples and his large greenish
cock were all on display. His hands were clasped behind him.

"Spock? What's gotten into you? You didn't walk down here like that!"

"On the contrary, Leonard, I did. You are off-duty now. I suggest you run,
doctor." He shook out a small whip made of the same grey leather as his
belt.

Something clicked in McCoy's mind. "The Lupercalia. Spock, are you sure?"

"I suggest you run," Spock repeated, the whip snapping dangerously close to
McCoy's hand on the desk.

McCoy was on his feet and out the door. Spock followed hard on his heels.
The whip snapped close to McCoy's ear, the precision unnerving. McCoy
caught a turbolift, shutting the door in Spock's face. He laughed in the
lift, alone. Trust Spock to come up with a truly unique way to celebrate.
Chocolates and cards be damned. He was in for a wild time tonight. When
the lift stopped, he headed for Spock's quarters.

Spock was waiting for him when he arrived there. He ducked and dodged but
to no avail. Within moments, his pursuer hand him pinned to the bed, his
hands palm-up above his head. A light slap of the whip across them, barely
stinging, and it was tossed aside.

"Now, doctor, having honored the origins of this holiday, we shall begin
creating a tradition of our own."

"You've got me down, Spock, what's the plan?"

"To remedy that situation." The long, broad hand slid down to stroke his
erection.

"I like it." McCoy arched into his lover's hand, wanting more.

Spock patiently undid his uniform, and discarded it, along with the
pseudo-wolfskin belt. His hands were everywhere, strong strokes,
feather-light touches.

McCoy caught the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. He gently
stroked the tips of Spock's ears as he sucked the Vulcan's lower lip into
his mouth, then entered his mouth with his own tongue.

They rocked together, shafts aligned, Spock's hand stroking them to a rapid
first climax.

"Ahhh, Spock!" McCoy was caught in the moment. Spock rolled off of him,
and held him close as he came down. The Vulcan would never understand his
lover's need to talk during sex. He preferred to focus on sensation. And
now, the sensation of Leonard beside him was soothing.

Soon enough, there would be more lovemaking. He would enter his beloved's
body, feel the heat of him, the tightness, and listen to the vulgarities
that escaped the doctor in the passion of the moment. But for now, they
would hold and be held.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Spock," McCoy whispered against his neck, following
it with a kiss. "I love you."

There was still much that puzzled Spock about humans. But Leonard was not
one of them.

*end*