*The pick-up line featured in this chapter, is not mine. It is from the Facebook group 'Vulcan Pick-up Lines'. No matter how much I wish it were mine, it is not*

A few hours after their shared moment in bed, Spock meticulously smoothed his hair and tugged at the civilian issue shirt. Pleased enough with his appearance, he strode through the doors, reentering the main area of Leonard's quarters. The other man was still asleep, currently engaged in what appeared to be a dream. A pleasant one, if he was not mistaken. The man had shed his shirt again and was mumbling contentedly to himself.

Quietly, he slipped through the doors and into the corridor. It had been over twenty four hours since he had left the doctor's quarters and he was eager to revisit his own. Having left a message for Leonard on his bedside table, Spock made his way down the hall to his rooms. Entering his authorization code, he stepped into the welcoming heat and familiar atmosphere of his living area.

"Computer, lights."

Removing his boots, he walked to his desk and found a blinking PADD next to a photo of his mother. He raised an eyebrow at the intruder, knowing full well he did not leave the device there the last time he was in his quarters. Picking it up, he entered his passcode and scanned through the messages. Jim, Nyota, Pavel, Mr. Scott, Hikaru...

He turned and walked to the replicator for a cup of spiced tea before settling down into his lounge chair. Gently sipping the steaming liquid, he began reading the messages from his crew mates...

: Hey you, it's me, your favourite captain. It's 1:00AM, and I'm doing courageous, valiant, captainly stuff, like filling out reports and authorizing roster duties. I decided to take a break and replicate pizza, your favourite actually: onions, mushrooms, extra green peppers and, of course, half Bolian pepperoni for me. I wish you were here to help me eat it and play chess :( I hope you get better soon, I think the crew is planning a mutiny. Nyota may be heading it. Will keep you posted.

Jim.

P.S: But seriously, if you need anything, you know where I am.

Spock twisted his mouth slightly to avoid smiling. He promised himself that he would be well enough to indulge in his Monday night routine with Jim. It truly was something he looked forward to throughout the week.

Saving the message, he circulated to next, which was from Nyota. Unsure of what she had been briefed on regarding the mission, it was with some trepidation that he began reading her note.

: Hello Spock! I have already demoted the Captain to cadet and sent a strongly worked letter to his cohort, the Doctor. I swear, the Captain couldn't work a communicator without causing an intergalactic war or getting us lost in the Gamma Quadrant. That being said, we miss you on the bridge, and I hope McCoy has you on your feet soon. If you need me, just let me know.

Did you tell him you have a crush on him yet?

Love,

Nyota x

Taking a sip of his now cool tea, he pondered Nyota's message, wondering if she really had sent a "strongly worded letter" to Leonard. He was most intrigued as to just how strongly worded it was.

Bringing up Pavel's message, he smiled at the young man's enthusiasm.

: Hello, Commander Spock! I hope you get better and come back to your duties soon. I have included a file on a paper I am writing, perhaps you can read it if you are feeling restless in sickbay!

I am enjoying the book you recommended on warp core theory, thank you very much for thinking of me.

Well, that is all for now! Goodnight, Commander.

Ensign Chekhov.

Spock made sure to save this message, intending to proof read the man's paper. While his English was, for the most part, improving at a rapid pace, he often would misuse certain conjugations and the like.

: Mr. Vulcan, I've come up with a brilliant plan for you to woo a certain Doctor into your bed. I mean, let's be honest, it is only logical that you take advantage of such an opportunity, being so close to him for such a long while! Go up to him and say:

"Is that a holographic likeness of myself being projected from your Federation Standard Issue Uniform Slacks? No? Nevertheless, I can certainly visualize myself in them."

HA! That's golden, that is. Worked on it all night, I'll have you know.

-Scotty.

Spock tilted his head slightly at the brazen take on an ancient, Earth 'pick-up line'. He was also concerned that it took the Chief Engineer all night, to come up with it.

Reaching the last message, he wondered if Mr. Sulu would have thought to include any new thoughts on meditation. He could utilize any suggestions.

: Sir, I trust the doctor is taking care of you. I can only imagine what it was like having to deal with that lunatic again. I sent some focusing and re-centering techniques along with this message. They aren't anything significant, just small things you can try to help yourself along. They really helped me transition to life on a starship, which I didn't take to for quite some time.

Take care and I look forward to our next spar.

-H. Sulu

Spock saved and encrypted each message to his personal database. Warmed by the thoughts of his shipmates and friends, he was, not for the first time, grateful to himself that he made the decision to join Starfleet. These people were his family, and he intended to reciprocate the honour and care they consistently showed him.

Standing, Spock made his way to the make-shift meditation area he arranged months prior. While it was not as elaborate as the ones that had been found on Vulcan, it nevertheless provided him with a strong sense of home and culture. Kneeling in front of the set-up, he lit the meditation lamp and surrounding candles. Assuming the position, he closed his eyes and once more attempted to rearrange his mind.

McCoy arched his body into a stretch and exhaled back down onto the bed. Having woken moments prior, he had discovered Spock's note to him regarding his whereabouts. The ship's time indicated he had napped for about two hours and he felt quite relieved and relaxed.

Bringing his arms up, he let them fall behind and on either side of his head. Closing his eyes, his mind wandered back to Spock and was immediately stabbed in the gut with a sneak attack of those hell-bugs known as butterflies. His mortifying, high school-esque confession made his face burn. However, thinking of Spocks hands on him, as fleeting as it had been, had him sighing in the early stirring of arousal.

Licking his lips, he brought a hand to his chest, mimicking the action of Spock's hand. It had been years since he had anyone else touch him like that, and his body had absorbed the much desired sensation. Now helpless to his mind's fantasizing, he imagined different scenarios of Spock's hands on him.

Trailing his hand down his abdomen, he shed the uniform slacks and undergarments he still wore. Spreading his legs slightly, he sighed contentedly as the cool air soothed the perpetually heated area of his groin. His breath came out in a shuddered, low groan as he gripped the neck of his cock, squeezing firmly. Bringing his other hand down, he raked his nails over the skin of his inner thigh toward the heavy, dampness of his testicles.

Aware of the mechanics of gay sex, he was unsure how to proceed in his fantasy with Spock. Last night he had wanted to devour Spock's lips, sucking and biting until they were swollen and green. He moaned at the thought of that perfect ass pressed against his groin, grinding and writhing, his hands viciously gripping the curve of hip. Spock was male, a Vulcan male, he could take it rougher and harder and he would want it that way.

Suddenly, his mind changed course, and he was underneath the long, lithely muscled form, alien strength pinning both his arms above his head with one hand. The dark glare that would shine in those eyes, the flared nostrils that would be able to scent his arousal, the strong thigh that would force its way between his legs should he attempt to struggle.

Encouraged by his fantasy, he stroked his cock harder, cruelly scratching his nails against the soft skin of his abdomen, reveling in the heated sting.

Bringing the hand to his mouth, he slipped his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, the excessive saliva providing an easy lubricant. Spreading his legs further, he arched his back sightly and maneuvered his hand around his outer thigh to tease the tight opening of his ass. Shuddering, he pressed inside himself with practised care, easily finding his prostate.

Too long since he explored this part of his body, it only took a few strokes before he arched his back, digging his fingers as deep as he could into himself. His orgasm was long and shuddering, and he rode it as long as he could until his cock was too sensitive to touch.

Rolling up and out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom to clean himself. Catching himself in the mirror, he felt a stab of shame, realizing that he had just jerked off, thinking about his rape-victim patient. While his feelings greatly surpassed the level of primitive sexual desire, he nevertheless felt somewhat depraved that his desperation had overpowered his concern for Spock. Soaking a cloth, he wiped away the congealing semen and, avoiding the mirror on his way out, stalked back to his bedroom.