Leonard turned briskly away from his work at the sound of the door hissing open, wondering which foolish ensign would dare to test his good temper today' not that it was a particularly 'good' temper by any means after this hellish week. His burgeoning scowl vanished to be replaced by an expression of pure confusion when Spock stepped through the door.
"I'm almost afraid to ask but what the hell is that, Spock?" He certainly knew what it looked like; with a flowing sash of gold, knee-high leather boots and a dagger tucked menacingly into a sheathe at his side, Spock looked uncomfortably like his imperial counterpart. If it weren't for the lack of a beard and stony gaze, Len would have been diving for his hypospray post-haste- even now he was half-tempted.
"Doctor McCoy, you may surrender immediately and accompany me or be forced to comply."
Leonard raised an incredulous brow, "Forced to comply with what exactly? Did Jim put you up to this? Fuck. Is it your Pon Farr again this soon?" An involuntary shudder of excitement ran through him at the thought; he was a horrible person and a terrible excuse for a lover wishing that Spock would be reduced to that mindless need to possess once more, but there was nothing quite like it to make a man feel wanted. Particularly when every other day it was nearly impossible to get the green-blooded computer to admit even a preference for his company.
"Irrelevant, Doctor. Am I to understand that you are refusing my ultimatum?"
Leonard pushed away from his desk slowly; hell if he knew what was going on, but Spock was clearly not himself.
"You've lost your Vulcan mind, Spock. Where the hell did you get-"
"Be silent, McCoy."
Enough was enough. "Where the fuck do you get off telling me what to do? I've just about had it, Spock. Three fucking days of completely ignoring me and now suddenly you're going to barge in here acting all piratical and givin' me orders? Go-"
With three quick strides Spock crossed the room, looming over him threateningly; Leonard swallowed softly, his legs didn't seem capable of holding his weight at the moment, his knees tried desperately to fold as images of Spock stepping that crucial half-inch forward and bending him over his own desk played through his mind with startling clarity. Damn vulcan, oozing sex appeal from every pore even when he looked half-mad.
Unconsciously Leonard raised a placating hand, rested it calmingly on Spock's arm; he could feel the full-body shudder that ran through the first officer just before one of those graceful hands pressed into his cheek and temple.
Even after two years of intimacy, each meld still seemed new, something totally foreign and yet achingly familiar- this time was no different. The sudden influx of emotion was staggering and Leonard distantly felt his knees giving up the fight, was vaguely aware of falling against his lover, hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt for balance even as Spock's other hand rose to curve around his back.
Slight amusement, warm affection, satisfaction- all nearly smothered beneath an insistent lust and something that felt almost like… jealousy.
Leonard was wrenched forcefully back to the present when Spock blocked him out firmly, an almost tangible divide falling between them that left Leonard both bereft and infuriated at the loss. His fury ratcheted up another notch at his body's involuntary reaction to Spock's hot breath at the curve of his neck.
"I repeat, Doctor. Do I have your surrender?" Spock nipped at the hollow just beneath his ear, tracing the curve there with the tip of his tongue.
"Fuck." It was perfectly natural for fury to become lust, Len assured himself; physiologically there was little difference, and he was beginning to catch on to this little game.
"I will take that for assent."
It took every ounce of Leonard's considerable will to find a coherent thought in his racing mind, took every bit of determination to force out the words instead of dissolving into a panting heap when Spock's hand glided down a few crucial inches to slip into his back pocket and squeeze.
"No, don't."
Spock paused, and despite his stubborn refusal to open his mind fully once more, Leonard could sense his growing delight expressed only with a ragged sigh.
"Then you leave me with no choice but to impress upon you the futility of resistance."
Leonard stumbled forward, surprised when Spock twined a hand firmly in his shirt and yanked him forcefully out of the office. His legs barely functioned enough to support him even now and Spock's muffled growl of impatience had him tripping over his own feet to comply.
"Where are we going?" That was considerably more breathless than he had intended, completely lacking the sharp edge he had imagined the words would carry. Spock didn't bother to respond, and Leonard felt a prick of frustration. It looked suspiciously like he was about to be thoroughly fucked and the hobgoblin was still ignoring him; damned if he was going to let that continue.
Leonard wrenched away, ignoring the sound of protesting seams in favor of putting some distance between himself and Spock. "I'm still on duty; we're not leaving sickbay."
Spock raised a brow in a gently reproachful manner, "No." Len could have sworn he saw the vulcan's lips quirk for a split second just before he found himself thrown bodily onto the nearest available bio-bed. He blinked slowly in an effort to stop the world from spinning, but that one moment of disorientation was all the clever hobgoblin needed to press his advantage, swarming up over Leonard to settle astride his hips.
"Oh god," Leonard panted, feeling the all too obvious evidence of Spock's arousal. Good to know he wasn't alone; as it was, he couldn't stop his traitorous body from rocking instinctively into his lover.
"My name will be sufficient, doctor."
Spock's gaze locked with his own, distant and calculating; it was more than any sane man could bear. Leonard reached for his hand, twining their fingers together, thumb brushing over his wrist provocatively. Spock arched into him roughly, disentangling their hands just long enough to free the sash from his waist and loop it about Leonard's wrists, drawing his arms above his head.
"Spock-"
Spock pressed a hand to his mouth, jerked away quickly when Leonard traced his tongue over the smooth skin presented to him.
"You may speak when I give you leave, McCoy, and only then."
"Fuck you." The words were less of an insult and more of a suggestion, accompanied as they were by a singularly provocative look. Spock found it a little more difficult to focus on his aim with Leonard running his tongue distractingly over those welcoming lips. Fortunately, he was able to bring his exceptional will to bear and concentrate on the task at hand after only a few seconds of battling the temptation to dispense with the preliminaries and proceed directly to the end result.
Spock permitted himself the indulgence of sweeping an exploratory finger over Leonard's chapped lips, only just suppressing the tremor that ran down his spine at the contact. Leonard nipped his fingertip lightly and Spock writhed against him, punishing them both with possibilities, taking an inordinate amount of satisfaction in McCoy's speechlessness.
Leonard gasped with relief when Spock gripped his wrists tightly in one hand, trailing the other down his uniform shirt and beneath. He could feel his muscles contracting beneath the light touch, skin pebbling at the chill of Spock's fingertips; it was impossible to miss the utter possessiveness of the gesture and he gloried in it even as he cursed Spock for restricting his own movements.
"Would you have permitted him this?" McCoy glanced up in shocked anger, eyes narrowing. Son of a bitch. He had confided every last moment of that shameful incident, shared every conflicted thought with his Spock: the fear and unwilling lust born of false familiarity, and now-
Spock's fingers dug into his wrist with bruising force, belying his softly contrite voice, "I apologize, Leonard. Such a suggestion was unworthy of me. And you."
"Don't you fucking forget it, Spock."
Before he could say anything more, Spock shifted back into character; stifling any indignant protests by the simple expedient of covering Leonard's lips with his own.
Kissing might not have been a traditional vulcan pastime, but damned if Spock hadn't taken to it like a natural. His thumb brushed softly against Len's lips, tugging insistently until they opened beneath his; a demanding tongue swept into Leonard's mouth, claiming every corner, leisurely exploring every last inch of him like they had a lifetime for this one act.
McCoy was of no mind to be courted. He pulled away slowly, savoring the contact for a moment more, "Thought pirates were more the pillage and plunder sort?" He couldn't help but grin as Spock's eyebrows winged halfway up his forehead.
"Indeed, doctor. I thought I had instructed you not to speak."
"Fat chance of that, hobgoblin."
"Then of course I must find another way to silence you."
Those dexterous hands slid down Len's ribcage, ignoring his desperate tugging at the makeshift bonds. Too-knowing fingers tugged at the zipper of his pants, Spock shifting enough to permit them to slide to Leonard's knees, but no farther. He was by no means a shy man, but he found himself coloring under Spock's heated regard, his length stiffening still more. He hadn't been aware until this precise moment that was even possible.
Spock's eyes traveled up his form to lock eyes with him once more, "You will not close your eyes, doctor."
As if there was a chance he'd look away. Leonard frowned as Spock pulled away, reaching for his waist and the-
"Oh hell." Leonard really wasn't sure whether there was more nervousness or arousal in his words, and didn't care to examine it too closely. When he had seen the dagger at Spock's waist he had foolishly assumed it was a toy, just another prop for this game. He should have known better, Spock was nothing if not thorough.
The blade gleamed wickedly in the light, and Len shivered as Spock traced the tip up the thin flesh of his thigh, played over his hipbones lightly."Hold very still, doctor. It is not my intention to damage you."
There was a peculiar hissing sound as Spock ran the edge beneath Len's shirt, watching the fabric part. "Exquisite." He murmured, Len couldn't be sure exactly what he was referring to, didn't care when Spock brought the blade closer still to his throat to press it gently into the hollow there.
"There is nothing to fear from me, Leonard."
"I know." He nearly choked on the admission, did his best to convey his unwavering trust without words, because this was his Spock, and of course he was safe.
This time, Spock's sense of satisfaction was so unmistakable and overwhelming, Leonard could have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it.
Spock moved away for a moment and Len protested mutely, flexing his wrists and writhing provocatively. He gasped loudly when Spock abruptly poured lube directly onto the head of his cock, too much for his over-stimulated nerves.
"Fuck, Spock."
"Such is my intention, doctor. Cooperate and it shall be finished all the sooner." Leonard was decidedly not in favor of that. Three days without so much as a stolen caress and now Spock thought he would just finish him off in a couple minutes and be about his duties? To hell with that.
Evidently Spock didn't particularly give a damn what he thought because one of those nimble hands closed around his length, working him roughly until Len keened with the effort of holding himself back. Spock's other hand found his balls, fingers tracing teasingly over the sensitive flesh; Leonard gritted his teeth, eyes squeezing shut.
"Doctor, look at me."
Leonard obeyed with effort, trying to fight the natural compulsion to thrust into Spock's fist and failing miserably. He yelped at the feel of a slender lube-coated finger ghosting over his perineum to press insistently into him, barely stifled a cry when Spock curled it into him.
His heels thudded uselessly into the table as release overtook him, Spock's hand working him until he begged mindlessly for the sensation to stop, but it was some time before Spock crawled back up his body, hands reaching for the sash that still held him tied.
"'M not finished with you yet." McCoy muttered, voice still a little ragged.
"Nor I you, Leonard." Those wicked fingers pressed into his, arousal spreading slowly through him once more.
"Jealous. You were fucking jealous. Why din't you say something?" It seemed Spock appreciated the southern drawl that slipped from his weary mouth; lips curling into a devilish smile, Len did his best to exaggerate it even further. "All you had to do was ask, darlin'; I'd'a done anythin'-"
"Jealousy is not an emotion to which vulcan are prey; it is illogical and counter-productive. Assuming I could experience such an emotion-"
Leonard snorted incredulously.
"It would be pointless, as you returned to me." A fierce possessiveness and burning sense of pride sang through their bond and Leonard reveled in the sheer heat of it.
"Damn straight. You'll never be rid of me so long as I live." With a quick twist that took every bit of what energy he had left, Leonard switched their positions. "And darlin', I intend to live for a long time so you better get used to it. Now, back to my original question." McCoy tugged at the sash pinned between them, "Where the hell did you get this, and how soon c'n I have one?"
"I am not inclined to say, doctor."
"'S fine, commander. I have ways of makin' even the most stubborn men sing."
"Then it is fortunate I am a vulcan-"
"Dammit, Spock. Shut up."
In the end, Spock was forced to admit the doctor's methods, while of dubious medical value, were singularly effective in their purpose.
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I don't know, I'm working on two McKirks and three Spirks right now, but I desperately need to practice my hand at slash and I've been watching the Original Series and so many Spones feels!
I'm not even coherent. Ahem. Concrit appreciated.