Yes, Dear
McCoy's jaw clenched angrily, his blue eyes blazing. "What the hell do you think you were you doing?" he demanded when the Vulcan beamed back onto the U. S. S. Enterprise. He wrapped an arm around Spock's waist, shouldering some of his weight, leading him from the transporter room to the med bay.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "My duty."
"Your duty is to not get killed, you pointy-eared, green-blooded hobgoblin!"
Spock smirked, a very human, a very annoying, expression. "Yes, Dear."
He Will Be Loved
He lay on his side, with his head propped up by the heel of his hand, and gazed down at the sleeping man beside him. In sleep, McCoy's face was soft and peaceful, and appeared years younger.
With no prying eyes to catch him in the act, Spock gently brushed his fingertips across McCoy's cheek; his skin was soft and warm. McCoy turned into Spock's touch, snuggling into the pillow, sighing contentedly.
Spock's Human-half reared its head. Despite his genetic make-up, it was futile for him to deny that he loved Leonard McCoy. Because he did, always would.
Regret
He could no longer feel his heartbeat beneath the palms of his hands. Gritting his teeth, he continued to push down on his chest. No, no, no! Stopping, he placed his ear against his chest, hoping that his sensitive ears would pick up even the faintest of beats.
Nothing.
Opening his mouth, and pinching his nose, Spock breathed into his mouth. From my lungs to his lungs, from mine to his.
Again, ear to chest. "Please," he whispered.
Spock felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Spock." Jim's voice broke. "He's gone."
And Spock's regret lived on.
Passion
His head thrown back, Spock's body convulsed as he dug his fingers into McCoy's back. Against his ear, he could hear his lover's harsh breath and quiet moans.
"T'hy'la," Spock moans as he drags his fingers down McCoy's back to grab a hold of his ass and squeeze.
Knowing just what he wants, McCoy begins to speed up his thrusts. Placing his mouth directly over a pointy ear, he whispers, his hot breath making Spock shutter, "Is that what you want?"
Spock moans.
Harder. "What's that? I didn't hear you."
"Yes!" Spock shouts.
McCoy chuckles. "That's what I thought."
Stars
One would think that after being on the U. S. S. Enterprise as long as McCoy had, the beauty of stars would have lost their appeal long ago. But they hadn't. Stars were still as beautiful to him now in space as they had been on his back in a field of tall grass on a cool night in Georgia.
Sighing, McCoy gazed out of the windows of control deck, losing himself to his reveries, until he felt fingers delve into the hair on the back of his neck.
"Beautiful," Spock whispered.
"Aren't they?"
"I wasn't talking about the stars."
Sleep
He needed to sleep, but he couldn't. It was completely illogical as to why, but it was the truth nonetheless.
He could no longer sleep alone. His body craved the warmth, security, and love of Leonard McCoy. He wouldn't be able to sleep until he could mold his own body with McCoy's and become a single mass of tangled limbs.
Restless, he tossed and turned. Then he heard the whoosh of his doors opening, heard the unceremonious tossing of clothes to the floor, and felt arms wrap around him and a chest push into his back.
Then he fell asleep.
Man's Best Friend
Spock finds McCoy in his room with the lights off and the room completely silent.
"Leonard?"
McCoy is lying on the bed with his back facing the doors. He doesn't answer.
Concerned, another Human emotion that he was learning more of because of McCoy, he walks to the bed, places his hand on McCoy's shoulder comfortingly. "Are you alright?"
Reaching up, McCoy grabs onto Spock's hand and squeezes. "I received news that my dog, Shadow, died."
Man's best friend, Spock thought. Saying nothing, he spreads out beside his lover, curled him into his body, and held him as he cried.