bakerstreet | The Star Trek Smut Meme

The Star Trek Smut Meme

eau d'pon farr, buy it now

Exposed to a Pon Farr inducing agent (either chemically created or a natural toxin) you are now forced to undergo a biological shift. You feel more aggressive, sexually unsatisfied and more than eager to take a mate. If you do not relieve the neurochemical imbalance with sex, meditation or engaging in a physical fight, you will go insane and die within eight days.

READ THIS | WATCH THIS
Comment with your character
Tag around

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ ~~how you like me now, bro?~~

he isn't sure why he'd said it in the first place. not one to typically yield to his own baser instincts to give in to goading - again, enough time around jim has desensitized him to that - it had come out of his mouth quite without his consent. though, he can't quite be sorry that he'd said it, because it has the other man looking at him with all of that calm, cold calculation, and he thinks that he might just be hitting the right buttons to yield him the right responses.

so far .. now that he's consciously aware of what's going on, he hasn't been disappointed.

spock pulls the curtain closed, and he resists the urge to tell him to watch what the fuck he's doing because excuse the fuck out of you, this is his medbay and you will treat everything in it with respect - even if those things include privacy curtains. but he keeps his mouth shut, more focused on the movement of that lean body with the movement, and if he catches himself staring for a small moment, well .. he will never admit to it, even under duress, and you can be damn sure he'll take those thoughts with him to the fucking grave.

but - oh.

the vulcan is working the front of his pants open, fingers curling behind fabric to wrap around the hard length of his cock and bones moans, open and full and not what he'd consented to giving but he doesn't quite care at the moment. his hips roll upward, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he makes a valiant attempt to keep from giving too much away, but when those fingertips find their way to that overly sensitive patch of skin beneath his balls his entire body shudders.

fuck. you.

those teeth nip at his lips and he responds in kind, taking the other's lower lip between his own and biting sharply, the taste of blood strong on the tip of his tongue as he draws it into his mouth. there is a small breath out, like he simply cannot hold it in any longer, and a rumble in the very middle of his chest when those words reach his ears and go straight to the base of his spine to join the heat, the electricity building there.

even if what the vulcan says is none too flattering.

bones' thighs tense when those fingertips probe at his entrance, breath pushing out of him as though it had no reason to be there in the first place, and when he feels the heat, the hardness of the other's cock against his knee he doesn't hesitate to push against it, to draw out even a small measure of the same response the other is pulling out of him. he tries to breathe, tries to give some measure of his usual composure and it fails spectacularly.

it isn't fair, what he's doing to him. not fucking fair at all. ] There is nothin' amenable about this, and you know it. I just figure I'll take advantage of a good thing when I've got the chance.

[ because he can't admit just how much he does want this, now that it's been presented to him. all but dangled in front of his face in the form of a sharp smirk and the quirk of a brow, maddening fingers teasing in all the right places.

fuck. you. ]

[ And that sound, difficult to ignore for how little the human does to restrain it, goes right to his cock. He realizes it's not intentional, and that makes it better; makes it feel, in a way, like a small victory. ]

A good thing?

[ He's perplexed by the choice of words, and tempted to be amused for how much he suspects they're not all consciously chosen. Humans.

Spock's mouth is full of blood; whose, he can no longer tell. Beneath his skin, it feels like something is broiling, and Bones smells so damn good, feels so right. Before or while the other man is making a response, his fingers push in deeper. His expression twitches, falters, briefly before he hides it by claiming the older man's mouth again. Maddening is the right term for it all - this is a fugue state, and Bones makes it sound like it's an advantage. Spock isn't noble enough to correct him now. If he's to be corrected, it'll be soon enough.

Because Spock's free hand is sliding down McCoy's throat and down the line of his body until it's between them, just as hastily undoing his trousers as he finger-fucks the man with shallow thrusts and pivots. He'd be given more slack if he pushed further on, but he lingers where Bones' body will resist him, where the other man will feel it most sharply. Once his pants are open, he's making to flip the older man onto his stomach on the bed, all hands put to pulling away fabric and hefting hips to grant him entrance into something tight and all too tempting. He's already slick; the breach will be smooth, and seem all too much just the same. He'd offer a hand on the other's mouth but he kind of wants to hear him unbridled, and it's clear that practicality has become second fiddle to baser needs. ]

I consider any instance in which you deign to view me as a human being a good thing.

[ damn, bones. u mad bro?

every nerve-ending within him is alight with feeling - pure sensation, as his mind tends to put it, flows through him unbidden, and he can't help but to respond to every little thing. every little press of skin against skin or the sounds wrought from his own body - at this point, there is very little control over his actions, over his words and his responses, and if he were to try to deny it, it would all be in vain.

fuck you, hobgoblin is going to become a turn of phrase that he ends up abusing.

there's yet another growl in the back of his throat as those fingers push deeper, a sound that more than betrays just how much he's getting out of this - and there is no more time to respond than is given when the other shifts him onto his stomach, something low and grating and wanting as his fingers dig into the biobed.

he wants to say something in response, something that says yes, this is a good thing. this is you giving in to something uncontrollable -

motherfucker.

neither of them would have bothered with the pretense of foreplay. it's in the back of his mind, now, the thought of it as he all but pushes back against the intrusion, breathing out a deep-seated moan that betrays everything in him. gives everything over to the man looming over him, controlling what his body does and doesn't feel, and bones can't exactly say that he wishes the other had been more .. delicate about this.

given the nature of pon farr, he knows full well that there wouldn't have been any other way to go about it.

he gasps when the other pushes into him, short and sharp and fucking hell, ducking his head to rest against his forearms in an attempt to hide his face. to hide the reactions he's giving over as though they're free for the taking, though at this point he doesn't expect them to be anything else.

he's given himself over to it, and he knows it.

bones breathes out, spine arching and meeting that first inward thrust that fully seats the other inside him, giving a deep, grating sound as he turns his head and attempts to look over his shoulder. ]

Yeah, a fuckin' good thing. Take too long to explain, but .. if you don't fuckin' move, I swear to god -

[ It seems like they might both be agreed that what's happening now is more to do with the physical than anything else. There's no time like the present, and the present is full of stimuli that are all leaning toward driving him out of his Vulcan mind. Bones is tight and hot and barely yielding, absolutely perfect even with all the inconsequential snarling that's pooling out between them. The smell in the air is sweet with antiseptic, the body beneath him bowing with visceral fervor.

Spock isn't really listening anymore, rational calculation all but quashed beneath the aforementioned imperative. Happily for Bones, this translates into a hard push further into the human, enough to lift Bones onto his toes with it and earn a guttural groan from the Vulcan. He lowers his head into the crook of the CMO's neck, panting hard against the man's skin as he gives another rough-smooth grind deep within the other man. It's a relief, for all the consequences that may be bound to come with it. He moans quietly against the doctor's skin like a feverish patient given that first, gorgeous sip of water, gracious and greedy.

One hand slides beneath the other's shirt, crossing over his chest to clutch his shoulder and hold firm as Spock begins to thrust into that tight passage, delved deep but shallow enough than the sound of his pelvis slapping the bare skin of the other's rump is almost ignorable in the wake of how his teeth sink into the back of McCoy's neck, sucking hard against the vertebrae there. ]

[ his acquiescence has everything to do with the body above him, taking and taking without any thought for the one beneath him, and honestly? he's never been in this position before, the role of the submissive and the silent, though he doesn't think he can particularly acquiesce to that particular role at the moment.

he'll never be the type to stay quiet and pliant for very long, and the hobgoblin should know that by now. more than anyone else.

spock pushes inward and it's such a devastatingly good feeling that he can't help but to give himself over to it, pure sensation and need thrumming through him in waves, ebbing and flowing and rendering him positively useless as far as giving commentary goes - though he can't think to even try at the moment, and good on you, spock, for rendering him incapable of speech when it seemingly would have clearly been the other way 'round.

he doesn't even have to say it. doesn't have to let you in on that little secret - because it's more than apparent in every sound he makes, every little thing he gives over.

and actions do speak louder than words, as they say.

the bite to the back of his neck is one that brings a high-pitched, breathless sound, rolling from the tip of his tongue and left lingering in the air amongst them. he hadn't been expecting it, though he isn't sure why - in the other's volatile position, anything should seem possible, and even as he's giving his own growling moan in response, it seems .. just short of redundant.

his fingers curl in on themselves, around the surface beneath him as he all but pushes back against the forward motion of the other's hips, seeking the pleasure that comes from the bundle of nerves there. shutting down that scientific, analytical mind, he gives himself over to pure sensation, not allowing himself to think of how if the vulcan shifted just there, he would grind against it just so -

one hand reaches back to curl over the nape of spock's neck, effectively holding him in place as his hips push back, up, seeking that pleasure he so desperately needs - wants - with a low growl that resonates in the medbay, low and grating and wholly belonging to the man above him.

not that he would ever say as much. ]

[ Bones is doing a damn good job of assuring the Vulcan that this is not some sacrificial tryst, that it's something he's enjoying by the way he tries to shift with Spock's thrusts, the way he growls with pleasure rather that his typical melodramatic grit. It's novel, and Spock needs it, needs it to feel next to normal in the wake of his frankly humiliating drive to mate mate mate.

The hand wrapping over his nape loosens the tightness of his teeth with something almost soft. He turns his head to kiss the inside of McCoy's wrist instead, thoughtless, nuzzling the high arch of his cheekbone against the thin skin even as his hips buck with some additional fervor into the other man. Oh, he feels a bit overwhelmed and listless with the pleasure, purring as he licks and nips the inside of Bones' elbow.

His free hand, the one not holding the other man in place, makes to slide up the other man's throat and tilt his jaw at just the right angle for Spock to kiss him, not terribly long for how out of breath he suddenly feels, but surprisingly passionate and deep. That hand quickly reaches for the pillow above shortly after, yanking it down to just beneath Bones' face with a silent suggestion before it drops to take the man's erection in hand, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Again, Spock doesn't want him to submit, appreciates the resistance, even - he just wants to own the other man in every possible way.

The next thrust is hard, deep, and Spock muffles his cry of ecstasy against the other's back as he begins to really pound into the body beneath him, committed to his own pleasure but searching for just the right angle to make the human tighten all the more for him. ]

[ assurance is about the furthest thing from his mind right now - though he isn't conscious of it, he's more than willingly giving himself over to the man behind him. above him, taking everything he could think to want from that tense body and leaving nothing behind but the utmost pleasure.

he can't think to want anything more.

the attention given to his wrist, the nuzzling and the press of lips gives him pause, makes him think that this is more than what it is, though he won't deign to think about it right in that very moment. right now, this is something that he can feel down to this bones, and that is most certainly not a play on words.

fuck you.

bones gives a breathy noise - something that he would later deny if confronted, but in this very moment cannot deny as he pushes back against the other's forward movements, those teeth and lips at work where nothing else has been, driving him to the very edge of his sanity and bringing him back again, arching beneath the pressure of those hips, giving himself over to it as though he could do absolutely nothing else.

he kisses him - slow and with the slick slide of his tongue against the barrier of too-white teeth, something that he commits himself to fully, given the fact that he can't do much else beneath the press of the body above him.

the hand that wraps around his cock brings a sharp noise, keening and wanting as his hips roll, something that presses his body against that of the one behind him as well as into the heat of the hand around him. it's something that holds his immediate attention, as it stands, something that has him wholly focused on that of the other's body and what it offers him, since he seems to have every single bit of control over the current situation.

bones muffles his own growls of need against his forearm, muffled and sharp as his fingers curl tighter around the back of spock's neck, fingernails biting deep and wanting as he tilts their kiss, deepening it witht he sting of teeth to his bottom lip, dark eyes concentrating on that unfathomable expression. ]

[ This is physical - anything suggested beyond that is simply an illusion. Granted, the physical aspect is magnificent, this push and shove, give and give and take. Spock is pounding into him by now, breath stretched thin by the exertion and the pleasure, but Bones' mouth swiftly becomes something he needs to dwell within.

His blunt nails scrape down the other's side and outer thigh, taking a musing handful of that ass even as he slams into it with enough force to make the sound rather lewd to behold, hardly mistakable by anyone that might come in. At this point, the Vulcan would strike down anyone that would dare to interfere. His mind is a mantra of mine mine mine as he marks the doctor on an epidermal level, leaves tracks that will leave bruises for days.

Finally, his fingers entangle in Bones' hair, and Spock pushes his tongue into the snarling mouth of a very sour man, dueling and coaxing at the native appendage all the same. It's intimate, deep and resonating with the growls and hums of the Vulcan in the grips of his rut. Praise and need, gratuity and selfishness. Spock turns him more onto his side, pushing himself in at a new angle and making access to the other's erection all the easier, the angle between their mouths that much more accessible. The biobed rocks and whines at this point with the force, pretty much in time with the sound the other man makes. He feels sogood. In this moment, Spock wouldn't give the cantankerous bastard up for anything. ]

Edited 2013-07-20 22:21 (UTC)

[ whenever possible, he leaves his emotions out of it. there's no sense in getting attached, or letting feelings get in the way, where they don't belong. whatever this is between the two of them, it's nothing more than physical, the proverbial scratching of an itch that will end up being mutually beneficial.

which is something that bones is finding out firsthand, with every push and grind of those hips against his own, body surging forward with every inward movement that buries the other's cock so deeply inside him that his toes are just short of curling within his boots.

the bruises, he knows, are forming. over ribs and hips and the outside of his thighs, one that will paint the surface of his skin in shades of purple and muted blue, dark and beautiful and making him as belonging to the other man for this short time - because who else could own up to those finger-shaped indents, the shadows left behind? he won't deny it, is far from it, in fact .. and if he's honest with himself he may just end up regarding himself in the mirror later, pleased with the results.

not that he would ever deign to tell the vulcan that. fucker might go right ahead and get smug.

bones growls, nipping at the tongue that pushes into his mouth with a soft noise that belies how much he wants it. it's not secret, and it will remain as such, both of them lost in the sensations wrought from a biological affliction. he doesn't care, and he's pretty sure that at this point, spock doesn't either - so he might as well give himself over to it as fully as he can, wring every single moan and shiver and snarl from that slender body while he can.

when the other turns him, he goes willingly. pushes back against the next forward thrust of those hips against his own, a sharp, wanting noise cropping up from the back of his throat as spock grinds against his prostate. beautiful and sinful and don't you dare stop, you fucker. he moans into that mouth, open and raw, needful even as he bucks into the pressure of the hand around his cock, heat pooling at the base of his spine and making him hyper-aware of the fact that this is too fucking good for him to last very much longer. ]

[ At this point, it's hard to fathom caring about anything beyond this maddening rhythm and its ultimate conclusion. There could come a parade of the sickly through the medbay at this point and Spock would not be likely to let McCoy go until he was finished. And even with pleasure beginning to spark sharply through his spine, coiling tighter and tighter in his belly, he's not entirely sure 'finished' at this point is synonymous with 'orgasm'.

This is more about his pleasure and using a viable resource to get it at this point ( he's never felt so selfish before and it's more than a bit terrifying when it's strung together with just how volatile everything else seems to be ) but that doesn't mean he doesn't notice how the other clutches and sounds all the sweeter when he pushes the right angle. He isn't thinking much on the bruises other than how good it feels to set them, scalding the skin with his blunt nails as he pounds up against that sweet spot in tempo to the pounding in his head. The doctor's lack of a bedside manner is well known, but he almost makes Spock feel like this is normal, like he's not making sounds he'd never thought himself capable of or enslaved by this fever.

The boil comes to a hard spike, searing down his spine and into his groin. The polite, controlled thing to do in this instance would be to pull out. Spock rolls the doctor back onto his belly instead, caging his hips in both hands as he thrusts in deep and bows over the other man with a silent shout, burying himself in the human and burying his teeth in the back of Bones' neck as he finally, after what's seemed like ages, shatters and shudders through his orgasm. He's still for that moment, trembling faintly as he spends himself inside the older man.

Then, with a soft groan that's almost a purr, he gives a final, decisive thrust and makes to pull free. It'll take him a moment longer to withdraw, though. His brow rests between McCoy's still-clothed shoulderblades as he pants and tries to regulate his breathing back to something less telling. The Vulcan's hands are almost soft as they slide up the man's sides, before they grip and push him properly onto the biobed, no longer making his presence entirely necessary to keep Bones from pooling right onto the floor. If Bones wants anything out of him still, he'll have to make it known somehow, because Spock is soothing out his hair and uniform and reaching for his pants. ]

[ if anyone were to try to get any kind of coherent through out of him right now, they could try - but there wouldn't be any point in it. his mind is so completely gone that it may as well have never been there in the first place. nothing more than an empty void, thank you and fuck off, there's nothing to see here.

it isn't like he would allow spock to just get up and leave before this was over, so at least they're running along the same lines, there. he might think it's selfish, but bones may as well think the very same of himself, because there is nothing he wants more in the world in this very instant than to see his pleasure to its inevitable end. the vulcan had started this, and he's sure as fucking hell going to finish it. this is beneficial for both of them, whether bones wants to think of it that way or not; spock is getting what he needs to liberate himself of the blood fever, and the doctor ..

well. let's just leave it at that, shall we? no need to talk ( at all ) about his sex life or just how little of it there tends to be.

the other man is grinding into him, drawing out sounds from the back of his throat that are nothing but low rumbles in the middle of his chest, more vibration than actual sound as his fingers curl even more tightly around the edge of the biobed. neither of them are going to last much longer if the other keeps at his punishing pace, all but tearing the sensation right from the base of his spine with every forward thrust -

and he doesn't even have time to think about it any further. not when heat practically bursts behind his eyes, white-hot and searing as his orgasm all but tears through him, hips bucking with the force of it and unconsciously pushing back against those forward motions. spock's breaths are erratic behind him, matching his own arrhythmic, stuttering inhalations as the tremors shudder through him, building and building and fuck.

fuck, fuck.

bones growls, teeth clenched as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, breathing out harsh and grating as the other presses his forehead between his shoulder blades, and for a moment, it seems almost intimate where nothing else between them has.

but then he's pulling back, all but shoving him squarely onto the biobed so he doesn't slump to the floor, and bones can't help but to throw a look back over his shoulder even as he's reaching to try to right his own uniform. ( despite the mess that has been made of it. goddamn it. )

he arches a brow, knowing full well that he won't be able to reach for his tricorder to take the scans he needs to gauge the other's stability. so - ]

How d'you feel?

[ never mind that it's asked breathlessly, a little shakily. spock, you done a number on him, son. congratulations. ]

[ Spock's hands hesitate upon pulling his briefs back over his hips, the fingers on the waistband of his pants loose with pins and needles. How does he feel?

Like a bonfire doused with a cold bucket of water. Steaming, not quenched. He wishes McCoy had not asked.

Spock leans back against the side of the biobed, one hand reaching blindly for stability and finding Bones' elbow at first, shifting down to the mattress a second later. He does not look down at the man, the mess that he's made of him, though he keeps one pointed ear tilted almost reluctantly toward him. Between them there is ragged breathing, and Spock cannot tell them apart nor can he justify a wholly eloquent non-response. ]

Adequately sated at present, Doctor.

[ And momentarily enough in his mind to realize he has just taken their ship's surgeon as his mate for his first pon farr, though he cannot remember how or why or much of anything beyond how it felt so good. It's not hard to assume he must have snapped, though. He had planned to request a stop at New Vulcan where the ceremony proper could be performed, but clearly he had not possessed the fortitude over his biology that he had believed himself capable. This was a bit distressing, more so than the candidate he'd apparently taken on, though that was its own can of worms.

What McCoy must think of him. Usually it wasn't a topic Spock lost very much time over thinking on, but this...

Spock hesitates, a visible little twitch of his head, a shift of his jaw line. Finally, one dark eye looks over the older man, seemingly cool. ]

I apologize for imposing on you. It was not my intention to deter you from your work.

[ He hadn't meant to wear that ass out, Bones. The urge kind of came on him suddenly and with great force. He's trying to be ~~Vulcan~~ mature about it all ~~and not as obviously embarrassed about it as part of him certainly wants to be~~. All in all, Bones looks like he survived the assault put on him, and that's enough to provide Spock some consolation. If he doesn't let his eyes linger too long on the doctor, all disheveled and half clothed, backside still bared from the time where, not long ago, Spock had been inside him...

The Vulcan's tone has been regulated into something close enough to normal to be fooled. Now, if only the color would drain a little quicker from his face and ears. ]

If you should require assistance...

[ adequately sated. well, he'd better fucking hope so after what you've just put him through, hobgoblin.

bones grunts at the initial response, a sort of half-chuckle catching in the back of his throat as he turns over onto his side and then rights himself on the other side of the biobed, back to the vulcan as he pulls his uniform pants back into place. he looks down - and goddamn it all - he's going to need to change before he even thinks about finishing what he'd been doing. it hadn't been anything to terribly important, but he'll be damned if he risks anyone coming into the medbay and seeing him with a comestain on the front of his uniform.

he sits there for a moment, runs his fingers back through his hair and wills his breathing to slow, to even out, just for the simple fact that they both can't seem to quite get it under control, and it's .. the slightest bit distracting. not that he's going to read too much into this, because it had in-fucking-deed been a first time for him, but it's difficult to deny that the experience had been just that. an experience that he doesn't think he's ever going to be able to get out of his mind, no matter what had brought it on. ] Well. Glad to be of service.

[ he pauses, eyes narrowing even though his gaze isn't trained on the other, but on a spot on the wall facing him. turning his head to the side, he licks his lips. ] Just don't try t'pay me or I might have to punch you right in the mouth.

[ his speech is still slurred, and it's likely above all else that that southern twang is more prominent than it normally is - but he doesn't bother masking it, because who the hell cares, anyway, and he's just about to make to go about his business for the moment when spock says that, like it was the most normal goddamn thing in the world to nonchalantly apologize for fucking him senseless across a biobed in his fucking medbay.

spock. are you out of your vulcan mi - never mind, we've been over this. you are, and continue to be. no need for further discussion.

and then there's that subtle hint of let me help your old ass if you need it and bones almost does whirl around and knock him a good one. you didn't wear this ass out, you green-blooded son of a bitch. you wanna do this? you wanna dance? he's good, motherfucker, let's go.

bones pulls himself into a standing position, ~~all but limps~~ sidles over to the other side of the biobed and takes a good look at his 'patient', dark eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. ] I don't think I'm the one we need t'be worryin' about right now.

[ yes, he does see that the color hasn't faded from your cheeks, that your tone, while passable at best, is still not enough to fool him completely. ( oh, how quickly we forget that he deals with jim kirk on a regular basis .. ) he reaches out, fingers curling along the edge of a sharp jaw, tilting his head to the side. ]

You said adequately sated at present. What's it gonna be like in, say, half an hour? Few hours from now? I'm not lettin' your ass go back on duty if you're liable to do what you just did to me on the damn bridge.

[ Spock didn't realize he'd said something offensive, but he's hardly surprised to see the doctor bristle. Apologies aren't usual for him, so perhaps he's not the most adept at giving them, but... but one was deserved and one was given, and it's just as likely not even the prettiest voice of contrition would make up for what he's done anyway. Given the doctor's general disposition toward him, perhaps it was illogical to even bother, but regret on top of everything else would be just as futile.

By the time Bones has gotten up and rounded the table to inspect him, Spock's gaze has relocated to the curtain and his fingers are doing up his fly. There's a slight twitch away from the fingers that seek his jaw, but it's a minute thing and ultimately the grip is something the Vulcan allows with the sort of nonchalant grace that still doesn't quite help him manage to look the other man in the eye... or take a wholly steady breath through his nose, for that matter.

How dare you understand him perfectly at a time he'd rather you didn't, Doctor. But the touch feels good in a way now, too, like a cool balm that has his lashes lowering by a fraction, tuning in to how the other man's usual cadence takes on a certain drawl. ]

That is unlikely.

[ It's unlikely because one ( not necessarily once, as Bones has read ) is usually all that is needed, or all that is taken, when things get this far. It's unlikely because Spock no longer intends to return to the bridge. The point is made, the evidence of his 'illness' irrefutable. He cannot be allowed to put other crew members at risk of being harmed. Spock doesn't like it, of course, but he accepts it now. ]

What would you have me do?

[ Finally, his dark eyes flicker up to meet the other's face, a gaze simultaneously cool with whatever reprieve of logic he's been granted in the afterglow and simmering with the memory that brought it. The Vulcan still wants him, and that's the truth of it, but he's not yet out of his mind enough to try and take him again. ]

[ it isn't .. necessarily that it was offensive. he just hadn't been expecting an apology, let alone one offered in such a - well, wait a damn minute.

did we focus for longer than two seconds on just who this apology was coming from? because if we did, we very clearly overlooked the fact that vulcans don't apologize. and when they do, it's probably the most awkward thing on the planet, in the galaxy, anywhere. bones really shouldn't take it personally, and to be quite honest, he doesn't.

it's just. odd. confusing. the hell is he even supposed to do with something like that?

ignore it for the moment, you say? sure, let's go with that.

he's acutely aware of how those dark eyes don't focus on him as he makes his inspection. the other's skin will always feel overheated against his own - no, he isn't thinking of it that way, fuck you - and he knows well enough that the beat of a vulcan heart will always be vastly quicker than a human's. all things considered, the other man seems to be acting more normally, though that shaky intake of breath the closer bones gets to him has his gaze narrowing.

he huffs out a breath, brows furrowing in their usual manner, still peering into the other's face as though that alone will tell him the extent of the .. replenishing quality their actions have added to the other's mental state. ( oh, jesus, did he really just think that? )

his lips part, tongue flicking out over the lower in contemplation. ]

I don't trust you around the rest of the crew. Not right away. [ there's a pause, and he squints at the vulcan, scrutiny apparent in his expression. ] How .. long will it be before you're back to your good ol' hobgoblin self? Was that -

[ oh fuck me am i really going to ask you this. ]

Enough?

[ and before spock even has a chance to answer, bones is pulling away from him for a moment, running his hands back through dark hair.

he is way too old to be dealing with this shit. ] Either way, I'm pretty sure you need to be confined to quarters until the fever's out of your system completely.

[ 'Awkward' is a bit of an understatement concerning this whole situation, and Spock is very happy to not speak on it any more than what seems a matter of necessity. Not talking is easy for him; not looking is another matter, and now that he's looking, he can't stop from observing the flick of the other's tongue, the stains on his clothes. The best he can do for himself is to try not to focus on the facts for long, replace baser instincts with how he's going to limit the loss of his productivity while he's confined to quarters. Easier in theory than study.

It's good and bad that Bones is pulling back; Spock's fingers twitch at his sides on the biobed. How much of an explanation does he owe? What is McCoy asking him, really? ]

That would be logical. [ Which means he agrees. ] However, I cannot provide you any further information regarding my health other than I believe I am less likely to die. This is not... a topic of conversation in my culture.

[ A soft pause, gaze flickering down to the tops of his knees for a moment before back to Bones. ]

You have already exceeded your obligation as my physician. I believe what has transpired was... sufficient for my recovery.

[ well. awkward is most assuredly the best word he can think to fit to this particular situation. he's never been the most eloquent man, and given the fact that he's sure spock could go above and beyond the call of duty to think of a better-fitting term for all of this, he'll stick to his one-and-two-syllable words and call it a day.

thanks.

and, again, bones is observant. the vulcan might be trying to keep from focusing too long on the state of his uniform or the flick of his tongue over his lips, but whatever he lets slip, he sees, and he isn't sure if he wants to blame it on pon farr or .. something else.

ohhh no. not thinking of it like that, old man. nope.

the answer he gets is not one he'd been expecting. at all. if spock doesn't know for sure what happens from here - oh.

oh fuck.

bones lets out a startled sort of laugh, an incredulous sort of thing as he braces his hands on his hips, shakes his head. ] Hold on a damn minute. Are you tryin' to tell me this is your first Pon Farr? Christ, kid -

[ okay. okayokay. there is a more professional and doctor-y way to go about this. even if his .. patient had just fucked him seven ways from sunday and he still feels the heat of arousal at the base of his spine, nothing more than a slow burn at the moment, but most definitely still there.

and then his eyebrows raise at that last statement. ] Spock, I think I exceeded my obligation as your physician when I let you bend me over the fucking biobed. Don't go there.

Now .. sufficient is a pretty loose term, here. [ bones clears his throat. is he really about to have this conversation. jesus motherfucking christ. ] I don't want to run the risk of it not being sufficient and have you getting all crazy-out-of-your-vulcan-mind. [ i also don't want you to die, but fuck if i'm saying that out loud. ] You know the saying 'better safe than sorry'?

[ boys. you're both so bad at this it's painful. ]

[ Excuse you, sir, but laughing is a little rude right now, isn't it? There's certainly a blink of surprise when it comes, a furrowed brow. Combined with the very crude ( but accurate ) summation of their recent activities: ]

That is what I said.

[ Keep up, Bones. ~~He absolutely could have been more blunt about it~~.

And then of course it is his turn for clarification. Around and around you go. ]

You are suggesting we continue sexual relations until my symptoms subside.

[ if he doesn't laugh, he might do something much more ridiculous. he doesn't know what, but he doesn't put it past the luck he's had since the day his wife divorced him to take a turn for the worse and make this even more embarrassing than it already is.

stop talking in circles, both of you, or we're turning this ship around and going the fuck back to earth.

and then.

and then bones gapes, somehow still managing to be surprised by the bluntness in the other's tone as the words come out of his mouth, roll off his tongue as though they're the most normal and easiest things to say.

you green-blooded - ] I -

[ fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou. ]

.. I guess I am.

Edited 2013-07-25 09:57 (UTC)

[ Maybe he was taking cues from you, Doctor Bent Over a Biobed. Maybe it's not sex he's embarrassed about as much as it is the circumstances surrounding it. As if you needed a gentle touch anyway.

Hold for a moment of inscrutable, and possibly infuriating, Vulcan ~~arousal~~ computer processing. Double eyebrow action. The only giveaway at this point would be the tint at the tips of his ears, and perhaps in the way he reaches out to take the hem of the other man's shirt in hand, thumbing up the stain in the under armor and blue shirt as if only recently finding it to inspect, or finally considering its removal. ]

Then I would suggest we find more suitable accommodations, after you make arrangements for your absence.

[ The quietness of his tone suggests less smugness and more... well, neither shyness or appreciation would be quite correct, and would be a hard sell for a Vulcan anyway. He is amenable to the concept at present, that would be the sum of it. ]

The remainder of your shift may be sufficient, although you may also consider a recovery period beyond that. I cannot provide you precise parameters.

[ Yes, doctor, you are being seduced by a Vulcan, or at least being subjected to some tentative experiment in talking dirty. He is a little out of his mind right now, after all. ]

Edited 2013-07-25 10:49 (UTC)

[ look, he can't help what comes out of his mouth when he isn't exactly in his right mind, either. he's not embarrassed by any of it, but the fact that it had happened at all still has him reeling, and he's not entirely sure what he's going to think about this whole endeavor once it's all said and done.

bones might not be the most observant, but he's yet to let something pass beyond his notice, and bingo, he catches the sight of that green tint at the points of the other's ears. there might be a tiny bit of smugness spreading across the line of his mouth, and it's enough to distract him from the fact that he's actually suggesting they continue this. he tells himself, it's just to ensure the vulcan doesn't go batshit on anyone else, but if he thinks about it ..

no. not thinking about it. we've been over that.

there's a small intake of breath at the words that come out of spock's mouth, at the notion that he will have to make sure the medbay is taken care of for the remainder of his shift. there are only a few hours to its end, and he thinks - he does have competent nurses that can see things through until his relief comes strolling in, and -

he really is thinking about this, isn't he?

and then there's a snort for what comes after, a shake of his head as dark eyes linger on the line of the other's mouth, those fingers brushing over the hem of his shirt. ] You don't think I can't bounce back? I might be old, but I can still take your Vulcan ass, hobgoblin.

[ that's about as close to a petname as he's ever going to get with you, sir. you're lucky that southern drawl doesn't take over everything and he accidentally calls you darlin'.

he licks his lips again, looking down at the stain at the front of his uniform and wondering if he should even bother taking the time to rub it out - and then he's just short of throwing his hands in the air, a silent fuck it mouthed as he pulls back the curtain just as much as will allow him to slip past it, reaching for a padd as he goes.

spock doesn't have to know he's holding it in front of him to hide the stain, or that he's very conveniently securing the time he needs to slip away with his 'patient', explaining to one of his head nurses that he has some business to attend to outside of the medbay and that it requires his utmost attention.

and no, it's none of her damn business.

when he pokes his head back through the curtain, a single brow quirked, he comes out with - ] So, do I need to ask your place, or mine? C'mon, we'll figure it out on the way.

[ bones stop. ]

[ There's the temptation to say something a little more obvious when Bones talks about taking his ass, but thankfully the man is already walking away. Supposedly this is to make arrangements for himself to depart from his medical duties, but Spock still feels the prickle of something hot against the back of his neck. If not for the fact he's been recently sated, he might have charged right out after the doctor and caught him by the scruff for daring to walk away without his express permission ( which he has implicitly given already this is not logical ).

As it stands, Spock is already beginning to walk out of the sickbay when McCoy finds him again, having sorted himself out to a respectable degree to progress through public to the door. He both hopes and hopes against M'Benga being on staff this shift; if McCoy could call so quickly what was happening to him, a doctor who actually took some years of service on Vulcan should have no problems understanding what the medical emergency was for Bones to trail Spock out of the ward. The only thing to make this moment worse than it already was would be for tongues to start wagging around the ship; Spock was already so comfortable with the ship-wide belief that they hated one another.

His hands are tightly laced together behind his back. The world he has found upon shifting the curtain aside comes in a spectrum of potential threats that could take his ( temporary ) mate away from him, which seems no better or worse than seeing everything in terms of potential irritation before. I am a Vulcan, he tells himself, I am in control of my mind, and the body is only an extension of my mind. But he is only truly afforded some measure of relief when McCoy joins him; perhaps the man can sense it, even if there are no visible cues to this.

Spock waits until they exit the sickbay and enter the lift. Even then, his voice is soft and low. ]

Logically, Doctor, you are the one in need of a change of clothing. I do not believe my spare uniforms would fit you.

[ There also... may or may not be an incredible mess to see in Spock's quarters. He's grateful to have an excuse to keep them from it. ]

[ once the words had come out of his mouth, he'd known how they could have been construed - but there'd been something in him that hadn't thought the vulcan would know how to respond, and thus it was swept from his mind as he parted the curtain and saw himself off to free up the rest of his afternoon.

evening.

what the fuck ever why am i doing this again jesus christ i'm out of my mind.

there is no question of just what is taking the doctor out of the medbay for the remainder of his shift, of which he is thankful that those under his jurisdiction tend not to question him very often. ( who would, when they risk suffering the repercussions of an angry southern doctor that has a hypo-happy trigger finger? ) and while he would also worry of there being talk spread throughout the ship, given the fact that no one actually sees him leaving with the vulcan, they should be in the clear.

at the very least, he hopes they are. lord fucking knows they don't need to have the image of their relationship turned into something shadowing the idea that they might actually like each other. he's quite fine with what they've built up for themselves.

and with so very little rehearsal.

in a careful stride, he accompanies the vulcan out of the medbay, that padd still held in front of him to, at the very least, make an attempt to hide the mess at the front of his uniform. if he were anyone other than himself, he would be downright embarrassed by the state of his clothing, by the fact that he had allowed himself to practically be manhandled by a fellow officer - and, oh, there's the fact that it's spock.

( never mind that this doesn't even begin to affect him as he thinks it should. never mind that he finds the entirety of the situation appealing, though he'll never say as much out loud. he can't, and hope to still maintain an air of indifference for the other man - so that, and everything tied to it, will stay right where it is. in the back of his mind with a blanket thrown over it, an attempt to make it not so damn noticeable. )

bones casts a sidelong ~~glare~~ glance at the other as they make their way to the lift, a roll of his eyes and a rough sigh the only thing he gives as a response.

initially. ] Guess that answers that question. Mine it is, then.

[ not that he really cares, but thank god he keeps a clean house. ]

[ Spock is incredulous about it all, not just because this is their CMO, his most antagonistic comrade, that he is engaging, but because so much about pon farr in has mind has been steeped in tradition. This isn't the way it was supposed to be. He feels rudderless in many ways, and it's that point that keeps him silent as they ride the turbolift to Bones' quarters, not far off from the medical wing in case an emergency should arise in the same way that the Captain's quarters are not terribly far from the bridge and the XO belongs among the general crew.. like some sort of mediator, it seems some days.

When they reach Bones' quarters, Spock stands aside for it to be opened and then briskly steps ahead, instincts driving him to be sure the area is clear before he allows his mate to enter. It's a subtle and obvious thing, if one knows how to look. The Vulcan's head pans his view over the quarters and it might seem like he's judging his surroundings before he steps farther into the room. Finally somewhere in the middle, he turns to face Bones, hands still laced behind his back, maintaining the veneer of a cool head as his eyes sweep down the other man's body.

But then he says: ]

Strip.

[ As if it is his right, and it is. ]

[ now that .. is something that he doesn't know anything about. he may know everything he thinks there is to know about the biology of pon farr, of how it affects the body until it brings them to the brink of death if they don't do something about it, but the .. what the hell is it? the psychology of it all, the havoc it's currently wreaking on their first officer's mind is something that he can only imagine.

they reach his quarters and he inputs the code to open the door, stepping inside and waiting for it to close behind them before he even thinks to open his mouth. he doesn't miss the way the other steps ahead of him, scans his quarters and he has a moment of what the absolute hell are you doing? before he follows behind, setting the padd he's been holding aside and setting the other with a level, downright cool look.

at least until that comes out of his mouth, and despite every effort to keep that veneer of calm over his expression, it flickers as a minute shiver crawls down the length of his spine. the attempt to mask it is offered with the raising of both brows, the corner of his mouth curling up into a rather incredulous smirk. ] Didn't hear a please in there, darlin'.

[ he says it, even as there is a slow roll of his shoulders as he pulls both uniform and undershirt over his head, tossing them aside and leaving him bare from the hips up, nothing but warm skin and hard muscle. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

we all about the back up in hurr.

bones u got da booty tho

he doooooo

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject