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bakerstreet2013-06-25 11:42 am
sockle) wrote in bakerstreet2013-06-25 11:42 am
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.
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no subject
It makes him shove his head forward, breaching the other man with a roll of his tongue, again and again, pushing in and beginning to lap its way to the man's core. He's putting his back into it. If he had thoughts of withholding anything before, they're gone now. He works his tongue in, twists it and bites at the ring of muscle like he plans to work his way inside, beneath the human's skin with his mouth alone. And he does. Every stroke now, every soft snarl, carries the same echoing message: mine, you're mine, this is mine, you belong to me, say it again, say my name.
One hand loosens and fits itself beneath McCoy, where it wraps its long fingers around the other man's cock and begins to pump it in time to the ministrations of his tongue. His mouth is well buried in the other now; if McCoy looked back he'd only see the line of the Vulcan's nose and the dark fringe of his eyelashes lowered in concentration beneath his unkempt bangs, the upturned edges of his eyebrows and ears very well helping him to suit the part of sin in this moment.
He realizes he could make the older man come just like this, around his tongue and into his hand, while he pulls back to a more shallow vantage point and nibbles at that stretched hole, swirls his tongue just within the flexing ring. Then Spock would climb up and fuck his over-sensitive body until he sated himself. Yes... yes, that is a fine plan indeed, he thinks... unless McCoy begs to come wrapped around his cock. He's not sure he could deny his mate the favor of it, not now. ]
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every breach of that ring of muscle, every inward thrust of that tongue has broken, almost-desperate sounds slipping from the back of bones' throat, mouth falling open in a wordless plea that doesn't even begin to convey how much he wants it. like a slut begging to be filled, to be taken advantage of in every sense of the word, to be used and broken and put back together again, only to be taken apart by the heat of a wicked tongue and long, slender fingers.
a part of him wishes he could see him. watch him push into him with that tongue, lids lowered and hair a beautiful mess. to see how that mouth works at him, teeth scraping over hyper-sensitive flesh as he works him open even further. it brings a high-pitched keen, a curse so obscene that it surfaces as barely more than a growl as his hips roll, rocking back against the pressure of that mouth, teeth now digging into the stretch of skin that spans from the base of his thumb to his wrist. tasting the promise of broken skin and whining. ]
Spock - fuck, please .. I -
[ i want your cock inside me. i want you to fuck me raw, make me say your fuckin' name until i can't say anythin' else.
there's a part of him that thinks it's a futile thought. that the other will simply use him as he pleases and that part of him .. it shudders at the thought. shudders in the deepest, sinful way possible. and there's another that wants him to concede, to push into him again and make him come just by fucking him into the goddamn mattress -
but he's so mindless from it all at this point that he doesn't care, either way. he just wants to come. ]
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He hears the request, in the instability of Bones' limbs, in his nerve endings, the way he pushes himself mindlessly back into everything Spock is giving him. I want to hear it, is what his mouth returns, nipping torturously at the other's perineum before laving his way back up and into that clenching entrance.
This time, a finger from his free hand slips in before his tongue, pushing into the other with precision as his teeth and tongue continue working the rim . That finger finds the distinct knot of the doctor's prostate without even trying and begins to mercilessly rub at him, as if it's something desperately in need of a good scratch. Temporarily unwrapping his hand from the other's cock Spock sits up and half pulls the older man into his lap with his face still buried, effectively removing the leverage Bones may have had in his legs and forcing the man's weight into his arms ( and probably sending blood rushing toward his head ). After the adjustment, he's right back to working his cock alongside every other assault. He's put Bones on a timer, and he's confident that soon enough, his time will run out.
Ask me, he curls his sharp tongue into the other man, beg me to give you release on your terms, and I'll consider it. ]
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but see, here's the thing. he'd let it happen again and again if it meant that he could keep doing this.
spock nuzzles him, and he groans, raw and open and rough, throat already feeling as though it's been rubbed down with sandpaper. just short of bleeding, tender and it should hurt, he thinks, but it doesn't. it doesn't hold a candle to the pleasure sparking through him with every flick of that tongue, every press of those lips and teeth. it's so good that there isn't any other word that he can think to give it, brain already having shorted out and left him a mindless, shivering mess of open nerves and want.
again, he tries to breathe. gasps and ends up choking on a moan as he feels that finger press into him, teeth clicking as he snaps his mouth shut against a breathlessly needy sound. fuckin' fucker, is an idle thought that slips through the frayed remains of his mind, a scant bit of coherency sticking around just long enough to have him cursing the other man's existence. just for driving him fucking crazy in the simplest of ways. and -
fuck.
every bit of his weight is pushed onto his arms, shaking as they already are as that finger rubs against his prostate, hard and unyielding and he should be embarrassed by the noises that filter up from the back of his throat, the bottom of his chest, both growling and keening at the very same time. those words flicker through him, skip over every inch of him like a smooth rock over the water's surface, and bones
breaks.
he licks his lips, tasting skin and salt and blood, struggling to find a breath for what will, inevitably, be the filthiest thing to have ever come out of his mouth.
oddly enough, the complete lack of embarrassment as the words practically fall out of his mouth should be a testament to just how .. sincere they are. ]
.. Please. [ a breath of a pause, small and gasping. ] Fuck, please, let me come. M'sofuckin'close, wanna feel you inside me .. more'n that fuckin' tongue -
[ he breaks off, sucking in another breath and very nearly choking on it, gritting his teeth around a whine that is none too dignified. ]
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He raises his head and lowers McCoy further back into his lap, leveling the man out at least somewhat again. McCoy will certainly feel the slickness and the heat of Spock's cock against his inner thigh.
But then, the hand on the doctor's cock is gone, instead laying one rough swat across the upturned before digging harshly into his hip. It holds McCoy still while the Vulcan leans over and purrs: ]
No.
[ No sooner has he said it is he thrusting his two fingers into Bones and fucking him mercilessly, grinding against his prostate with every sweep. He'll be damned surprised if Bones lasts more than a few seconds before he explodes.
Because while there is certainly satisfaction to be gained from having a body milk you with the contractions of its orgasm, there's next to nothing more powerful than having someone grovel before you and denying them anyway. He owns this man, fully. He can withhold what McCoy wants and force him to have one of the best orgasms of his life anyway.
He doesn't just want to break the man, he wants the pieces, the shrapnel too, wants to burn it up and leave next to nothing for the wind to take. Once he feels Bones cumming with no touch on his cock, just two fingers pounding into him as a paltry substitute to what he could have been given, once Spock feels him shuddering and beginning to come down from the high of release... Then, then is the time Spock will slide his cock home, pushing the human spent into the mattress and fucking his prone body until Bones' nerves scream white-hot intensity, far beyond overloaded and unable to do anything about it. Even if his body's instinct tries to crawl the doctor away, Spock will pull him right back onto his cock. He's not going anywhere until the Vulcan is finished.
There isn't going to be anything left but a body for Spock to cum inside for a good while. ]
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that praise, while it isn't so much verbal on his part as physical - the arch of his spine, the buck of his hips against the intrusion of that tongue, that devious finger - but he knows it must come off as such, just for the simple fact that he can't think to put his praise into words.
fuck, pleaseplease, come on -
he gives a high, breathless noise when that hand falls away from his cock, when the delicious pressure is gone and instead he's rewarded with a swat to heated skin .. he can't help but to attempt to toss a look back over his shoulder, to catch dark eyes and ask why -
oh.
fingers press into his body and he falters, mouth falling open in a rasp of a moan that doesn't bear much with it at all, just the breathless gasp of a man that has wholly and completely given himself up to this level of torture. this level of commitment, just for the fact that he knows the other can't be willing to stop now.
eventually.
he will get what he wants.
even if spock makes him scream for it first.
those fingers inside him, the pressure of the other man's body at his back, bearing every bit of his weight against him makes it seem like it's only seconds before he breaks completely. when his entire body goes rigid, when his heart stops beating for a few small seconds as his release builds up at the base of his spine - bones' mouth falls open, teeth digging into his forearm once more as his orgasm shakes him right down to the very core of his being. hot, sinful, yours, the only words he can think in the back of his mind that bear any weight at all.
and it isn't until he shakes with his own release that spock finally - motherfucking finally - pushes into him, body still spasming with the force of it. that concession, yes, fucking yes, please is anything and everything that bones could possibly think to give in this instance. all he has to offer is his body, his physical form to his mate, and he gives it willingly. again and again. he is beyond thinking of holding anything back.
and when the other reaches his own release, he thinks it might be over. that he might find some solace in the silence of the aftermath. but - ohjesusfuck - there's a small moment in which the vulcan takes a breath, shaking down to the bones as he is, pauses just long enough to collect himself -
christ
he resumes his stride, a slow inward thrust of his hips against the spot that has bones shattering beneath him, body over-sensitive and over-worked, and yet .. he still has it in him to give it all over again, anything the other wants from him.
y'got me. ]
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Maybe Bones finds his fourth orgasm, Spock can no longer tell because the man has been reduced to something so beautifully pliant beneath him, just taking and taking him and it is absolutely perfect in this moment. Either the other man's mind has become a complete blank or they have melded into one being without the need for touching psi-points; at this point, Spock's own mind is fully committed to the churn of his hips and his building release. His third orgasm isn't as hard as his last, but it's more overwhelming, full-bodied, oh, it feels like he's being bled dry but he likes it, welcomes it.
Afterwards, he drapes the sharp heat of his body over the one beneath him, cauterizing ( not literally ) the wounds there and trying to cover the doctor as much as he can with himself. He doesn't know how long it took him to get here, or how long he is just laying there on top of Bones, breathing into his neck and shoulder, but he is utterly spent. McCoy will come to with Spock's cock still buried, if softening, inside of him, with the Vulcan's weight keeping him pinned to the mattress like a long, lean bag full of burning coals, and be reminded exactly who he belongs to. Spock is content to languish for a while. He's never felt so complete, ever. Hell, he didn't even know anything was missing from him.
For once he is incapable of over-thinking and enjoys the moment, positioned in this half possessive, half protective drape over his mate. For a biological imperative he found so shameful, for him this is probably the best sex he's ever had. Eventually his cock will retract its way back inside of its sheath, but unless McCoy moves him, Spock is just going to stay right here. If he's allowed, it's likely he'll even doze, face tucked into the crook of the older man's neck. ]
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fuck.
fuck.
he isn't braced for the impact of the other's second orgasm, much less his third.
he allows his body to be used. what the fuck else is he there for? his brain supplies, much beyond his consent as the other rides him to climax for a third time, and for the love of absolute fuck, he can't keep himself from giving over to it.
he's only human, of course. and having the other use him as thoroughly as he can brings him to yet another release, though it isn't much more than the full-bodied shudder that he gives. a gasp in the back of his throat that he can feel all he way down to his bones as the other stills above him, pliant and warm and his if he wants to see it that way, though he isn't .. completely coherent of that fact.
mine, he thinks idly, hoping that it doesn't transfer too thoroughly. he isn't sure what he would think if that were to hold true.
bones sighs. bone-deep ( ahahaha, very fucking funny ) and reaches a hand to thread through messy black hair as the other buries his face in the older man's neck, a comfortable and preferable thing that he reinforces with a soft noise in the back of his throat, low and unbidden.
stay, is the word he doesn't offer verbally.
i want you to. ]
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Sleep.
Coherent enough to offer half-hearted mental commands. At this point, he probably wouldn't have left if Bones were screaming at him to do so. This is pleasant, he's not going anywhere fast without some significant inspiration or tipping force. And yet there may a small ripple of something like approval. Then he finds one of his hands stroking a nearby ribcage and doesn't know how long he's been doing it. ]
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damn, but that sounds like a fine idea.
his body is spent, more than he ever thought it would be - and he acquiesces much more quickly than he otherwise would; he settles, taking in that hand that strokes along his ribcage, vaguely wondering if the other means to.
and then decides that he doesn't give a fuck, because it feels nice and he's so goddamned tired that he would let him do it, anyway. without any thought put behind it.
bones hums; something deep, rough and pleased, nestling into the other's touch without any thought at all to the contrary. ]
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Not until he tries to get up and feels himself literally peel free of Bones.
Blood had dried between them, sticking to Spock's chest now as well as the whole of Bones' back, his arms, the man looks painted with it. It's then that there's this suspiciously weighted sensation in the Vulcan's stomach, and the stone sinks further down. Oh. It hadn't been particularly important to either of them before, but this... looks a bit messy. ]
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drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep is something that he doesn't get the luxury of very often. he will cherish this, somewhere deep within himself where no one else can touch it. because if they can touch it, they just might be able to fuck it up.
unfortunately for him, while he can always seem to fall asleep pretty easily, it also means that he isn't a very deep sleeper. he feels the other man peel himself away, registers a vague tugging feeling at his back that makes everything feel pulled tight - and hazy eyes are opening, focusing on that dark gaze a bit more easily than he would like to admit.
he grunts, low in the back of his throat. ] .. Look like y'just saw a ghost'r'somethin', hobgoblin .. s'matter?
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You're hurt.
[ There's dried blood on his fingers, stuck in the nail beds. Without the hard mating urge, it's a little sickening. He tries not to think on it long, instead beginning to move to the edge of the bed. ]
Do you have any medical supplies in the room?
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[ funny, that he'd pretty much forgotten what had happened to his back. it doesn't really hurt, though he knows that if he doesn't take care of it, it will - and also taking into consideration that he won't be able to tend to it himself, it's the only reason he even thinks about entertaining the question about medical supplies.
he groans, low in the back of his throat as he allows his body to pull itself into a languid stretch, cracking a yawn that very nearly splits his jaw. there's a lazy, sleepy grin given in response, possibly because the weight of what they'd done, what bones had allowed the vulcan to do to him hasn't quite sunken in all the way yet. ]
Keep a buncha stuff in th'bathroom .. antiseptic, bandages'n shit. But y'don't hafta clean me up, y'know .. M'a grown man, after all.
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I do not think your joints will articulate far enough to allow you to treat every affected area. Nor do I think you are particularly inclined to get up.
It is... no trouble. You may continue sleeping for approximately ten minutes.
[ He removes his hand and climbs off of the bed, walking bare across the bedroom to scoop up his briefs and proceed to the bathroom. He's just going to make use of that shower, thank you. A nice, cool shower. When Spock returns, though, he's clean and carries the kit he found, along with a shallow basin of warm water.
The Vulcan sits on the side of the bed, cradling the basin between his thighs. An admittedly significant part of him just wants to crawl onto the sheets and nestle down nearby ( possibly close by ), but his conscience is no longer willing to let such an abuse slip. Whether or not Bones is awake or mildly protesting, he'll be applying a warm, damp cloth to the other's skin, starting at his shoulders. ]
wow totally forgot DO NOT BE ALARMED i just renamed his account.
the warm fingers dancing along the surface of abused and torn skin have him humming a small noise in the back of his throat, a pleased sort of thing in the place of the other's upset that such a thing happened in the first place as he rests his head back on his forearms. ] Mm .. gotta point. M'pretty comfortable.
[ bones dozes, lingering somewhere between real sleep and being able to hear what's going on in the background. the shower running in the distance is a calming, soothing sound that helps to lull him back into the welcoming arms of sleep; he's only barely jostled awake when the other sits at the edge of the bed, a sleep-hazy noise making its way up from the back of his throat.
if spock wanted to curl up next to him, anywhere within his immediate vicinity, he wouldn't have minded. he's come to think that having the other close isn't exactly as .. annoying as he thought it would be. actually, he's coming to think that spock's presence is kinda nice.
but you'll never get him to say it out loud.
bones shifts a bit beneath the cloth when it's pressed to his shoulders, but he doesn't complain. oddly enough? it feels pretty damn good. ]
You keep that up'n I might hafta enlist you as one of my nurses.
beautiful
Please, Doctor, there is no need for insults.
[ Soft sounds of churning water as the cloth is wrung out and reapplied. This time, Spock picks up one of McCoy's arms by the elbow and wipes clean his upper arm down. He vaguely remembers wiping the blood there just because he could. ]
I apologize for any inconvenience this might cause you in the future.
[ There, it's out there now. Combined with scrubbing something clean, things feel like they're falling back into order. One of his hands takes Bones' as he stretches out that forearm for cleaning and then leans back over to attend to his back. ]
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bones snorts, turning his head once again to regard the vulcan with an amused grin. ] Hey, bein' one of my nurses is a damn privilege.
[ he falls silent again, watching the cleansing of his arm with a small amount of interest. he remembers the blood being smeared there, as well, and the remembrance sends an infinitesimal shiver down the length of his spine.
well. that sure did just happen.
spock takes his hand to stretch out his arm, and he doesn't stop himself from giving a light squeeze to long fingers as he shrugs impassively. ] Might make wearin' a shirt kinda hard for a while as it heals, but it could be worse. S'not like I didn't rough you up a little, too.
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I do not possess the necessary training.
[ The squeeze, however light, attracts his attention. A mild nod, a quieted expression. It helps. ]
You may have a point.
[ He is scored with the evidence of Bones' mouth on his skin, where his fingers or nails might have dug in, and it's true Spock hasn't really noticed them in the perspective of pain. Nevertheless, his body is flecked with shades of green and copper.
Down to Bones' lower back, Spock's free hand shuffles through the medical supplies. ]
Your personal supplies seem a bit... antique.
[ Oh, no, there's a hypo for what seems to be an antibiotic. How Jim might respond to such an opportunity comes unwarranted to him and has the Vulcan dunking the rag he has back into the basin of water several times over in lieu of, say, shaking his head. ]
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that dry tone is met with an almost-derisive one, as well as a hint of a chuckle. ] I bet you do and you just don't wanna tell me. You're a damn science officer, and a Vulcan. Y'all don't know how to do anything by halves.
[ yes, he just said y'all. not one word.
his expression flickers at that next comment as his eyes pass over the expanse of warm skin mottled by dark green spots, tracks left by fingernails and the crescent shapes of teeth. he remembers every single one of those marks, what had incited such a response out of him - and it all boils down to the sheer need the other man had made him feel. he can't bring himself to be sorry for any of them, and he isn't sure how he feels about that.
bones hums a bit in the back of his throat, the sound turning to an almost-grumble at the shot to his supplies. he lifts his head and cranes his neck again, brows knitting together in the semblance of a scowl that doesn't carry a single bit of weight with it. ] I don't exactly make a habit outta findin' myself in need of this level of care, if you have to know.
[
you're special, shut the fuck up.he does know that hypo is in there, though, and while he isn't thinking about how jim would react to such an opportunity, it would have been beyond amusing to know that spock is thinking about it. jesus. ]
What I've got in there will be good enough .. I'm not exactly ripped to shreds.
[ pause. ]
Unless you're gonna try again.
[ hiding a sharp grin against his forearm? yup. oh, bones. what is anyone going to do with you. ]
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Thank you, Doctor, I find myself satisfied at present.
[ Ever the mild response.
Bones you are incorrigible, not now. He just got you clean.Setting aside the basin at the side of the bed, he lies on his side next to the other, idly plucking open the sterilized packages covering the bandages. Crude they may be, but that makes them all the more self-explanatory. The other is cool in the few places their bodies touch, fingers delicate and almost disdainful around the adhesive tape, and his palms warm where he presses the gauze down.
It's curious. He knows the other man would have some sort of dermal restorative medicines in the sickbay that would leave not even a whisper of the lacerations, but the CMO sounds as if he plans to let them heal... naturally. ]
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he laughs at the response he gets, stretching out a bit more under the ministrations of those firm hands. ] Well, that makes two of us, then, doesn't it?
[ lord have mercy.
his eyes flutter closed for a small moment as that warm body settles next to his own, the heat that all but radiates from him in waves a many-splendored thing. he recognizes the physiology of it, knows that it has to do with a vulcan's body temperature being so much higher than a human's, but he can't help but to think of how nice it feels against him. bones almost feels cold by comparison, but it doesn't much matter, because above all it's something of a comfort.
not that he'll say as much. there's .. a lot about this that he isn't saying. which should go without saying.
he also knows very well that if he were to simply make his way back down to medical at some point in the evening, it would be all too simple to heal the wounds spanning the length of his back. to leave nothing behind. that .. isn't what he wants, though. there's a very small, very muted part of himself that wants to see if the marks left by the other man leave their own scars behind, if there's any lasting impression that tells of the vulcan's presence in the first place.
he can't voice why he wants it, either. he just .. does.
the bandages press into place, and he cracks an eye open to watch spock's face as he works, mildly amused by all of this. ]
Thought you said you didn't have any trainin' with this kinda thing ..
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He's said as much as he plans to on the matter. Indulging the trivialities of his treatment now seems to be the only course. His expression is easy, though there are some minute twitches of something like annoyance whenever the adhesive tape insists on sticking and pulling at his fingers. ]
I am sure you'll agree that dressing minor lacerations, however extensive, is hardly equivalent to surgery, Doctor. It may not be aesthetically pleasing, but I believe it will suffice.
[ He removes the hypo and, without preamble or ceremony, presses it to the skin off to the side of his work. Wounds covered, antibiotic administered. That should do it. Spock rolls onto his belly next to the man, discarding all of the paper materials back into the kit. ]
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nope. for once in his adult life he's more than content to just exist, to let the amicable stretch of silence and occasional bit of banter between the two of them continue until it can't any longer.
( file this under why ruin a good thing that neither party will acknowledge and call it a day. basically. )
bones rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug. ] Maybe, but it says somethin' 'bout you that you actually know what to do for lacerations 'n shit.
[ and there isn't even a flinch from the doctor as that hypo is pressed to his skin. he may not have been expecting it, not prepared for it, but unlike certain captains that flinch away from them as soon as they come into his line of sight, he's not going to be a baby about it.
actually, he only gives a small sigh as the other settles next to him again, turning his head to offer a lazy half-smile. ] Thanks, for that. Y'didn't have to, I know I said it already, but .. yeah.
[ what are words. ]
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[ He snaps the kit shut and places it to the side of the bed. The doctor is slogging his way through gratitude when the Vulcan sits up again, for which there is a slow arch of brows; a look that, on anyone else, would be something like polite acknowledgement. Spock is curious, though, and maybe a little amused.
As soon as he realizes the other is finished, he briefly processes the look he's receiving and slides a hand over the man's nearest shoulder, up to the nape of his neck. He's not hesitating even if he leans in slowly, tries to finish the McCoy's sentence for him with a kiss. It seems natural to him, easy, for all this evening has come upon them suddenly. ]
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