F*ck the Periodic Table

Title: Fuck The Periodic Table

Author: tprillahfiction

Pairing: S/Mc

Series: TOS

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me.



"Mr. Spock," Kirk said.  "Would you mind delivering this signed Bosun's List to Sickbay?" He held up the PADD.


Spock looked around the bridge and spotted Yeoman Rand standing at communications, amicably chatting with Lt. Uhura.  He turned back to the captain.  "Is the Yeoman otherwise engaged in her duties?"


"I wasn't aware that my direct orders were open to debate, Mr. Spock," Kirk snapped.  He softened and added:  "Just… hand it over to Dr. McCoy, alright?  He's waiting on this."


Spock raised an eyebrow and took the PADD.  "Certainly, Sir," he replied, crisply.   Spock turned on his heel and entered the lift.




The first thing Spock noticed was that Sickbay appeared to be deserted.  Odd.  "Dr. McCoy?" he called out.  There was no response.  He knew the CMO was scheduled to be on duty.  Since the doctor was not on the bridge, his usual haunt, the man should be here.  The doctor always had meal breaks with either himself or the captain.  Coffee was available in the sickbay.  If the CMO had responded to a medical call, the captain would have been informed.  No he had to be around, somewhere.  


Spock saw illumination emanating from McCoy's office.  Ah. Of course.  He headed through the small access corridor leading to the office.


Spock had nearly reached the end of it when he suddenly felt himself roughly thrown or pushed against the bulkhead.  Since it had caught him most definitely off guard--it had knocked some of the wind out of him.  He knew who was behind him, holding him there.  Breathing into his ear.  "Doct--?"


"Shut up."


Face against the wall, feeling something hard push against the back of his thigh, Spock heard a sound of unlocking the supply closet.  It opened and he was grabbed by the wrist and yanked inside.  McCoy shut the door behind them.  "Chief Medical Officer's authority, lock, no override," the man hissed.


"Dr. McCoy, this act is highly improper."


"I'll tell you what's improper, Spock--you telling me what is improper in MY sickbay.  I make the rules around here."


"That does not include imprisoning the First Officer…in a supply closet."


"Yes it does."


"It does not."


"Does too."




"Shut up,"  McCoy hissed as he creeped closer.  "You have the Earth Periodic Table of Elements memorized?"


"Of course."


"Recite them."




"You heard me, hobgoblin, recite them."


"Why should I?"


"Because this is my Sickbay."


Spock sighed and obliged the obviously mad doctor.  "Number one is hydrogen."  McCoy kneeled down.  Spock raised an eyebrow in response.  "What are you--?"


"Shut up.  What's number two?" McCoy ground out.


"Number two is Helium." McCoy's hands darted out and undid the button on Spock's trousers.  Spock swallowed and stared up at the bulkhead ceiling.  "Number three--" McCoy slid down the zipper. "--is Lithium." McCoy drew out his penis.  "Number four is Beryllium."


Spock felt his flaccid penis enter McCoy's warm mouth.  He dropped the PADD he had been clutching all this time.  It hit the deck with a loud clatter.  "Number five…is…Boron…" Spock's organ quickly gained tumescence.  He felt McCoy chuckle around his organ.  "Number six…is…Carbon." McCoy tongue slid around the glands, underneath where the especially sensitive area is located. "Number seven…is…nitrogen."


McCoy continued sucking, and licking. 


"Number eight is…oh…oxygen.  Dr. McCoy?"  He looked down at McCoy, mouth wide around his organ.


"Huh?" McCoy pulled away briefly.


"I am able to recite all the way until the end."


"The hell you can." 


Spock resolved to do just that.  He resumed control of himself, willed himself to soften.  His voice became even as he effortlessly rattled off the next twelve elements.


McCoy pulled off.  "You bastard."


"I suggest you cease--the battle has been lost, Doctor."


"Hah!" McCoy immediately resumed and redoubled his efforts.  Spock felt himself harden again against his will. "Number nineteen is….oh…uh…potassium.  Number twenty is Calcuim."  McCoy stroked as he sucked, nibbled underneath the glans once again.  "Twenty one is Scandium.  Twenty two is…uh…oh…ah…" He felt McCoy giggle again, the vibrations were pushing him closer to completion.  "Titanium.  Twenty four is--"


"Uh uh," McCoy mumbled with mouth full.  He pulled off briefly.  "Skipped twenty three.  Vanadium."


"Thank you, Doctor.  I am aware.  Number twenty five--" Oh…and McCoy started to hum around his penis.  The end was near.  "Man…gan…see," Spock panted out.  "Oh…"   And he was at the edge and over, spurting his seed, deep into McCoy's mouth. 


McCoy choked a bit, but swallowed everything. 


McCoy licked the glans clean, getting every last drop it seemed.  He finally pulled his mouth off and began giggling madly.  "You only reached twenty five this time,"


"Leonard," Spock said, still breathless.  "You are becoming amazingly adept at this."


"Why, thank you, sweetheart." McCoy tried to get up.  "Oh my fucking knees."


Spock helped him up amongst much grumbling. 


"I'm getting too old for this kinky shit.  I really am," McCoy complained.


"That is what you always say."


McCoy put his hand to his mouth, wiped away anything that could give him away as what he had been up to in the closet.  "Oh, here." He reached down and began to tuck in Spock.


Spock batted the hands away.  "I can do that."


McCoy grinned.  "Sorry.  Carrying the 'mother hen' thing a little too far."  He waited till Spock had gotten himself situated.  "Ready to go?"  McCoy's hand hovered over the lock release.


Spock caught McCoy's wrist.  "Wait." 


Spock kneeled down and unfastened the doctor's trousers.  "Your turn.  Recite the periodic table."


McCoy delivered the filthiest smirk Spock had ever witnessed on McCoy's face.  He drew the doctor's leaking organ out to the soundtrack of McCoy reciting:  "Hydrogen…helium…Lithium…"



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