Title: Thoughts
Rating: Adult (sex)
Pairng: Spock/McCoy
Notes: Written for![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cards_slash's 69 meme.
It’s an idle thought, a passing fancy really. Just something to occupy his mind when he’s cooped up in his office, waiting for his shift to end.
It starts simply. An argument of some sort. McCoy never bothered to think of what they were arguing about, since it didn’t matter. What did matter was that, in his mind, he won; he managed to make that stoic façade crack. It faded a little to get from point A to point B, but every time he ended up with the Vulcan pinning him against a wall, his desk, any place really, as long as their bodies were inches from each other and Spock’s hands were wrapped around his wrists to hold him in place.
It was easy enough from there to lean forward to press his lips to the frustrated line of Spock’s mouth, to court the reaction he knew was coming, hiding just under the calm surface. He’d succeed when Spock kissed back, hard, just on this side of violence, until the whole world narrowed down to the clash of their wet mouths and the weight of Spock’s body against his.
He’d fight back, couldn’t give in too easily, even if Spock could easily overpower him. He’d struggle, scratch and bite, nothing gentle or sweet about this, force Spock to work to dominate him, hold him down with hands and hips. Spock would be as hard as he was, finally giving in to something he’d wanted but wouldn’t allow himself.
They wouldn’t undress. Spock wouldn’t want to let him go, would hold both his wrists in one long fingered hand, would open their trousers with the other. It would be like burning, that hot flesh rubbing against him, hotter still with Spock’s hand wrapped around them both. They’d thrust against each other, Spock making short, sharp strokes, tight, nearly painful, but exactly what they need. He’d bite down when he came, hard enough to leave a reminder right below Spock’s ear, some place where everyone could see it, hard enough to make that green-blooded computer feel it.
He’d want to hear Spock moan when he finally finds his release, a vulnerable, human noise that he can’t restrain. He wants Spock panting when he pulls back, his clothes rumpled, his hand slick with their semen, everything pristine and Vulcan about Spock tarnished because of him. He wants to see Spock stumble away, trying to escape, to get somewhere safe to pull himself back together, and he wants Spock to know deep down that he won’t be able to, that McCoy has gotten under his skin.
He’d look at his wrists later, and see the bruises Spock had left behind, marks he’d have to hide because he wouldn’t want to heal them. He’d keep them until they faded from purple to green, like his own secret trophy to remind him that he’d won.
He thinks about it sometimes. It’s just a thought, something to keep him occupied until he gets the real thing.
Title: Happy Birthday
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (implied relationship)
Notes: Birthday ficlet originally found here.
Spock was familiar with human birthday customs insofar as he had memories of his mother attempting each year to commemorate Spock's birthday with cake and gifts. On one particularly ill-advised occasion, she had invited several other Vulcan children to the house and endeavored to coerce them into singing some sort of Earth song to Spock around a slightly lopsided, candle-lit cake. Several attempts and the eventual tuneless result had left Spock squirming inside as he tried not to display any feelings of embarrassment to his peers.
He had been unable to understand her continued insistence in following an illogical tradition from her home with Vulcans who would neither understand nor appreciate the gesture.
Turning the memory over in his head as an adult was a somewhat different experience. Now he focused only on his mother, her face bright and happy in the orange light of the candles, her affection palpable as she celebrated his birth and continued existence.
It is with that in mind that he arranges a small gathering for Leonard’s birthday. In spite of the man’s grousing about getting older and wanting to just ignore the event entirely, Spock believes that showing him that he is valued and cared for will mitigate the worst of the grumbling.
Spock quietly informs other members of the crew of his intentions, mostly to amused expressions of disbelief, although they all agree to attend.
When they have all gathered around the mess’ far more symmetrical cake, singing loudly and off key, their paper hats askew, Spock confirms that he has made the correct decision.
Leonard is smiling and laughing, answering jokes about his impending senility with threats of unnecessary vaccinations and extended physicals. He looks at Spock, his eyes wreathed with tiny wrinkles and Spock can’t help but reach out for his hand, brushing their fingers together in a kiss.
Leonard leans in closer, brushing their shoulders together, and Spock can feel the contentment and affection radiating from the other man. He thinks his mother would be pleased that he finally understood her lesson from all those years ago.
Title: It the Thought That Counts
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (established relationship)
Notes: From a prompt bycards_slash "Spock/Bones; baby, it's cold outside".
Only Jim would think that a trip to Kris Kringle’s Kosy Kristmas Kabins qualified as a gift. It had been good for a few laughs at first, seeing Spock in a parka thick enough to keep his arms hovering several inches from his sides, and the hat with its earflaps and boisterously fluffy pom-poms might have been worth the price of admission alone. He hoped Jim had gotten a few pictures before they had beamed down.
Still, the mittens were his favorite part. Bones was sure that he had been treated to some sort of Vulcan logic fest that explained why having ones mittens on a string was completely practical, but it had been thankfully muffled under several layers of ugly woolen scarf. He needed to get Spock in winter wear more often.
While this place might have some benefits, the constant caroling was not one of them. Bones was sure that the group of singers in their pseudo-Victorian costumes had done their rendition of Jingle Bell Rock at least a dozen times since he and Spock had arrived to check in. Bones couldn’t be held responsible for his actions if they sang it again.
He thought about asking Spock if there was a Vulcan equivalent to a tourist trap featuring the World’s Second Largest Non-Stick Frying Pan. Maybe somewhere out there was a Shrine of Sarek made from sensibly repurposed space debris or a working model of the Vulcan brain made entirely from stray pocket lint.
Probably not. Somehow he didn’t think Vulcans understood the concept of kitsch, at least not if the horrified eyebrow raise that Spock had offered when he saw the plastic light-up sleigh and reindeer that glowed merrily in front of their cabin was any indication.
“Come on Spock. I bet there’s egg nog inside,” Bones said with a grin, slapping the other man on the back. This really wasn’t his sort of place either, but if Spock thought it was hideous and miserably cold, Bones was just that much more determined to enjoy it.
Still, he did crank the heat as high as it would go once they got inside and helped to unbundle his barely mobile partner.
“I don’t know why Jim thought this would be an enjoyable gift,” Spock said, looking at the strings of Christmas lights with barely hidden disdain.
Bones wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist and laughed a little into Spock’s shoulder. “It’s not all bad. We have the place to ourselves. There’s just that bed over there, you, me and eight tiny reindeer for the next three days.” He nuzzled the Vulcan’s ear and felt Spock relax slightly. “And the only time we need to leave the room is to pick up a gift for Jim.”
“That is an acceptable idea,” Spock said, worming his hands underneath Bones’ sweater and pulling him closer.
As they kissed, Bones reminded himself to think of a nice gift for Jim later. Maybe one of those giant animated elves that sang Jingle Bell Rock.
**
AN: Here's how I pictured Spock's Hat only more hand knit. I strongly suspect that at least half the items Amanda knit for Spock were for the purposes of messing with him a bit.
Rating: Adult (sex)
Pairng: Spock/McCoy
Notes: Written for
cards_slash's 69 meme.It’s an idle thought, a passing fancy really. Just something to occupy his mind when he’s cooped up in his office, waiting for his shift to end.
It starts simply. An argument of some sort. McCoy never bothered to think of what they were arguing about, since it didn’t matter. What did matter was that, in his mind, he won; he managed to make that stoic façade crack. It faded a little to get from point A to point B, but every time he ended up with the Vulcan pinning him against a wall, his desk, any place really, as long as their bodies were inches from each other and Spock’s hands were wrapped around his wrists to hold him in place.
It was easy enough from there to lean forward to press his lips to the frustrated line of Spock’s mouth, to court the reaction he knew was coming, hiding just under the calm surface. He’d succeed when Spock kissed back, hard, just on this side of violence, until the whole world narrowed down to the clash of their wet mouths and the weight of Spock’s body against his.
He’d fight back, couldn’t give in too easily, even if Spock could easily overpower him. He’d struggle, scratch and bite, nothing gentle or sweet about this, force Spock to work to dominate him, hold him down with hands and hips. Spock would be as hard as he was, finally giving in to something he’d wanted but wouldn’t allow himself.
They wouldn’t undress. Spock wouldn’t want to let him go, would hold both his wrists in one long fingered hand, would open their trousers with the other. It would be like burning, that hot flesh rubbing against him, hotter still with Spock’s hand wrapped around them both. They’d thrust against each other, Spock making short, sharp strokes, tight, nearly painful, but exactly what they need. He’d bite down when he came, hard enough to leave a reminder right below Spock’s ear, some place where everyone could see it, hard enough to make that green-blooded computer feel it.
He’d want to hear Spock moan when he finally finds his release, a vulnerable, human noise that he can’t restrain. He wants Spock panting when he pulls back, his clothes rumpled, his hand slick with their semen, everything pristine and Vulcan about Spock tarnished because of him. He wants to see Spock stumble away, trying to escape, to get somewhere safe to pull himself back together, and he wants Spock to know deep down that he won’t be able to, that McCoy has gotten under his skin.
He’d look at his wrists later, and see the bruises Spock had left behind, marks he’d have to hide because he wouldn’t want to heal them. He’d keep them until they faded from purple to green, like his own secret trophy to remind him that he’d won.
He thinks about it sometimes. It’s just a thought, something to keep him occupied until he gets the real thing.
Title: Happy Birthday
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (implied relationship)
Notes: Birthday ficlet originally found here.
Spock was familiar with human birthday customs insofar as he had memories of his mother attempting each year to commemorate Spock's birthday with cake and gifts. On one particularly ill-advised occasion, she had invited several other Vulcan children to the house and endeavored to coerce them into singing some sort of Earth song to Spock around a slightly lopsided, candle-lit cake. Several attempts and the eventual tuneless result had left Spock squirming inside as he tried not to display any feelings of embarrassment to his peers.
He had been unable to understand her continued insistence in following an illogical tradition from her home with Vulcans who would neither understand nor appreciate the gesture.
Turning the memory over in his head as an adult was a somewhat different experience. Now he focused only on his mother, her face bright and happy in the orange light of the candles, her affection palpable as she celebrated his birth and continued existence.
It is with that in mind that he arranges a small gathering for Leonard’s birthday. In spite of the man’s grousing about getting older and wanting to just ignore the event entirely, Spock believes that showing him that he is valued and cared for will mitigate the worst of the grumbling.
Spock quietly informs other members of the crew of his intentions, mostly to amused expressions of disbelief, although they all agree to attend.
When they have all gathered around the mess’ far more symmetrical cake, singing loudly and off key, their paper hats askew, Spock confirms that he has made the correct decision.
Leonard is smiling and laughing, answering jokes about his impending senility with threats of unnecessary vaccinations and extended physicals. He looks at Spock, his eyes wreathed with tiny wrinkles and Spock can’t help but reach out for his hand, brushing their fingers together in a kiss.
Leonard leans in closer, brushing their shoulders together, and Spock can feel the contentment and affection radiating from the other man. He thinks his mother would be pleased that he finally understood her lesson from all those years ago.
Title: It the Thought That Counts
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (established relationship)
Notes: From a prompt by
cards_slash "Spock/Bones; baby, it's cold outside".Only Jim would think that a trip to Kris Kringle’s Kosy Kristmas Kabins qualified as a gift. It had been good for a few laughs at first, seeing Spock in a parka thick enough to keep his arms hovering several inches from his sides, and the hat with its earflaps and boisterously fluffy pom-poms might have been worth the price of admission alone. He hoped Jim had gotten a few pictures before they had beamed down.
Still, the mittens were his favorite part. Bones was sure that he had been treated to some sort of Vulcan logic fest that explained why having ones mittens on a string was completely practical, but it had been thankfully muffled under several layers of ugly woolen scarf. He needed to get Spock in winter wear more often.
While this place might have some benefits, the constant caroling was not one of them. Bones was sure that the group of singers in their pseudo-Victorian costumes had done their rendition of Jingle Bell Rock at least a dozen times since he and Spock had arrived to check in. Bones couldn’t be held responsible for his actions if they sang it again.
He thought about asking Spock if there was a Vulcan equivalent to a tourist trap featuring the World’s Second Largest Non-Stick Frying Pan. Maybe somewhere out there was a Shrine of Sarek made from sensibly repurposed space debris or a working model of the Vulcan brain made entirely from stray pocket lint.
Probably not. Somehow he didn’t think Vulcans understood the concept of kitsch, at least not if the horrified eyebrow raise that Spock had offered when he saw the plastic light-up sleigh and reindeer that glowed merrily in front of their cabin was any indication.
“Come on Spock. I bet there’s egg nog inside,” Bones said with a grin, slapping the other man on the back. This really wasn’t his sort of place either, but if Spock thought it was hideous and miserably cold, Bones was just that much more determined to enjoy it.
Still, he did crank the heat as high as it would go once they got inside and helped to unbundle his barely mobile partner.
“I don’t know why Jim thought this would be an enjoyable gift,” Spock said, looking at the strings of Christmas lights with barely hidden disdain.
Bones wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist and laughed a little into Spock’s shoulder. “It’s not all bad. We have the place to ourselves. There’s just that bed over there, you, me and eight tiny reindeer for the next three days.” He nuzzled the Vulcan’s ear and felt Spock relax slightly. “And the only time we need to leave the room is to pick up a gift for Jim.”
“That is an acceptable idea,” Spock said, worming his hands underneath Bones’ sweater and pulling him closer.
As they kissed, Bones reminded himself to think of a nice gift for Jim later. Maybe one of those giant animated elves that sang Jingle Bell Rock.
**
AN: Here's how I pictured Spock's Hat only more hand knit. I strongly suspect that at least half the items Amanda knit for Spock were for the purposes of messing with him a bit.
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