Title: Priaprism
                  By: kvw
                  Star Trek TOS
                  Pairing / Main: Spock/McCoy
                  Rating: NC-17, language, sex
                  Status: new
                  Disclaimer: I don't own them. No profit is being made.
                  Warning: laughable PWP and male/male slash, mild fetish
                  Feedback: none, please. I wrote for someone who dared me to
                  use certain words I could never say in front of my
                  McCoy was hard. He and Spock and just made love, they were
                  done, but he was still swollen and somewhat sore with it too.
                  He rolled on his side towards the breeze coming in under the
                  canvas awning, and propped up on one arm to look over the
                  They were outside, though on their property. Their house was
                  behind them, fronted by trees and full of mosquitoes. Before
                  them was a small inlet, a sideways branch of waterway from a
                  large lake that began north of them and carried on
                  unconcernedly past.
                  There were fewer insects by the water due to the residence of
                  bats and birds. Last year they'd pitched an awning on a
                  remnant of abandoned trail for the soft red clay felt cool
                  even in blazing sunlight. Spock had suggested having dinner
                  here tonight, which they'd done, and one thing had led to
                  Every couple of months or so, a canoe entered the inlet,
                  someone who thought they were paddling somewhere until they
                  came upon a dead end of reeds and greenish-rocks. For that
                  reason, McCoy had picked a forest-green tarp. They were
                  hidden unless a canoe came right up to the shore and he'd
                  never seen one do so. Their only witnesses this evening were
                  fish that popped their heads up through the seaweed with
                  little plunks, and the occasional waterfowl.
                  A thousand tiny ripples ran across the top of the murky pond.
                  Yellow leaves floating on the water swirled in the
                  "It smells like rain," McCoy said, chilled where the breeze
                  touched him. Otherwise, it was humid and sticky warm. "Are
                  you cold?"
                  "No," Spock replied sleepily, and perhaps not truthfully.
                  When he was finished, he was finished, and preferred to go to
                  McCoy shifted and lifted a corner of the blanket to let the
                  air reach his distended penis. He was finished too, but he
                  wasn't going down.
                  This had happened once before when he was seventeen and on a
                  camping trip with a few of his friends. They were all young
                  and hormonal and they had decided to camp for a week. A long
                  week. So, if one of them went into the bushes to take a pee
                  and took a long time with it, the others pretended not to
                  McCoy had found a nice spot, a few fallen logs against a tree.
                  He'd sat down and leaned back, stroked himself off, then
                  found he couldn't get his cock back in his pants. He'd had to
                  stroke himself off again and it took a long time because he
                  hadn't actually felt horny anymore. Afterwards, his cock went
                  down, but it stayed raw for the rest of the trip.
                  The breeze died and he moved again, trying to catch the tail
                  end of it. His restlessness bothered Spock.
                  "Is something disturbing you, Leonard?"
                  Spock wasn't easily fooled, not even when he was
                  nearly-asleep. He sat up and looked out toward the water.
                  "Is someone out there?"
                  "It's nothing. It's just one of those things."
                  "What is?"
                  McCoy rolled onto his back. Spock eyed the tent in the sheet.
                  "You haven't finished," Spock surmised.
                  "I did. You were there," McCoy retorted. "All I need is some
                  cold water."
                  Spock reached under the sheet. McCoy twitched. "Spock, it's,
                  um, very sensitive."
                  They had brought out olive oil for the salad. Spock put some
                  on his palm and gently took hold of McCoy's penis once more.
                  "It would be faster to get the cold water," McCoy said. "And
                  your way might not work."
                  Spock shook his head as a small smile lifted one corner of his
                  mouth. "My way is less painful and if it takes until morning,
                  I do not mind. Close your eyes, Leonard, and I will touch
                  The Vulcan's touch went low, gently holding McCoy's testicles
                  as his fingertips went underneath them. He rubbed little
                  circles in the moist skin just in front of the doctor's pursed
                  anus, and then one finger touched the opening. If he pushed
                  in, he'd find his own semen.
                  "Spock," McCoy started, but the Vulcan kissed him.
                  "Close your eyes."
                  McCoy gave in and did so. As soothing as the touch was, he
                  was more uncomfortable than aroused. There was a drug; it
                  dilated the veins and freed the blood trapped in his organ.
                  It could be put in a hypo and pressured in at the base. What
                  was it called? He would have to look it up and write a
                  prescription. He shouldn't let this go for more than six
                  hours or there would be damage.
                  Spock's finger suddenly entered his anus and McCoy sucked in a
                  breath. The Vulcan's lips covered his for a moment. Then
                  Spock whispered in his ear.
                  "Do you remember the first time I touched you here?"
                  A second finger entered McCoy and he smiled. "On the ship
                  after Jim's birthday party."
                  The Captain hadn't wanted a celebration. "I hate birthdays,"
                  he'd said, yet he hadn't said no to the double-chocolate cake
                  or the bottle of real Merlot. The three of them had consumed
                  both cake and wine in Kirk's quarters. Kirk had sprawled
                  against the headboard while Spock and McCoy sat at the foot of
                  the bed, arms rubbing against each other, creating sparks
                  until McCoy was so erect his plate couldn't hide it. On some
                  pretext, he and Spock had finally left through the adjoining
                  washroom to Spock's quarters. The door had barely shut behind
                  them when they were on the floor in a sixty-nine, mouths on
                  cocks and fingers in each other's holes. Afterwards, they
                  kissed, their mouths tasting of come and chocolate.
                  "I'm sure he heard us. He did go into the washroom once,"
                  McCoy said, chuckling at the memory. They'd heard the Captain
                  using the shower and the idea of Kirk standing only a few feet
                  away had set McCoy and Spock off again. They'd fucked so hard
                  they'd both ended up with carpet burns.
                  Spock slowly withdrew his fingers and began cupping McCoy's
                  balls. McCoy felt the sheet being drawn down and air on his
                  "If I get a mosquito bite on my pecker, you are in deep shit,"
                  he warned.
                  "I am also exposed," Spock said, his voice amused. He was
                  using both hands now, one to hold McCoy's ballsac while the
                  other tugged teasingly at the wet, pubic hairs.
                  Neither man shaved their pubes, though they'd tried it once
                  just to see what it was like. They'd used a razor around
                  their cocks and a depilatory on their testicles. The hair
                  remover had stung like icy pinpricks, yet the sensation had
                  been an odd turn on. By the time Spock bent over McCoy's
                  genitals with the foam and cold razor, the doctor's cock was
                  slapping his abdomen.
                  They shaved each other carefully with little strokes of the
                  sharp blade. Afterwards, while rubbing lotion around the base
                  of their dicks, they both abruptly ejaculated. Then they
                  laughed at the absurdity of it. It was the first time McCoy
                  saw Spock laugh.
                  Their genitals were hypersensitive after that. McCoy's
                  trousers rubbed him in new and exciting ways and even the feel
                  of a sonic shower could give him an instant erection. They
                  made love two and three times a day, lubing up and rubbing
                  their cocks together while panting in each other's mouths.
                  McCoy would call Spock from the bridge with some phantom
                  computer problem and they'd jack each other off in McCoy's
                  office or in a lab, and once in a Jeffries Tube. By the end
                  of the day their undergarments were stiff with come.
                  When the hair began growing back, it was a different story.
                  McCoy nearly itched himself raw. Spock, on the bridge, had no
                  privacy whatsoever for any discreet scratches. They'd never
                  shaved again.
                  McCoy's mind abruptly returned to the present when he felt
                  Spock's tongue lap over the head of his dick, teasing the
                  small slit with feathery caresses.
                  "Ooh!" McCoy pressed his lips together.
                  "Unpleasant?" Spock asked, concerned.
                  "Not at all," McCoy managed. He felt a spike of pleasure
                  under the soreness.
                  Spock began stroking up the shaft with slow, long motions.
                  The tip of his tongue ran down to the little, tender crux
                  under the ridge of McCoy's dickhead. His fingers and tongue
                  would meet, pull away, and then meet again. McCoy writhed,
                  trying not to lose the fluttery contact.
                  He'd been circumcised two years ago. Not his choice. His
                  foreskin had always been thick and cumbersome and it had hurt
                  to pull it down far enough to clean properly. There had been
                  a plus side however. The covering muted the friction. He
                  could fuck for hours, literally hours, before coming. His
                  partners loved it even if his back didn't. He'd put up with
                  the inconvenience until a flu bug caused an infection that
                  caused the need for a catheter, which then led to another
                  infection at the opening to his urethra. After listening to
                  McCoy's grunts of pain every time he urinated, Spock put his
                  foot down and ordered the circumcision the urologist had been
                  McCoy had felt the difference right away, even before the
                  bandage came off. It felt like there was less of him, and he
                  hadn't wanted to show it to Spock. Again, the Vulcan wasn't
                  taking no for an answer. A day after the urologist gave McCoy
                  the ok to resume all normal activities, McCoy had come home to
                  find the overhead lights off and their bedroom lit with
                  candles. Spock undressed them in the comforting dimness.
                  Then they'd played a game McCoy liked. Spock would kiss McCoy
                  in two places the doctor chose, and then Spock could choose
                  his own place. Lips, neck, chest, elbow, thighs, and finally
                  Spock chose the tip of McCoy's penis. Murmuring words of
                  encouragement, Spock then rolled onto his back and spread his
                  legs. McCoy entered him.
                  And came ten seconds later.
                  He lasted a little longer the next time, but he'd never gotten
                  back to literally hours. Everything rubbed too well against
                  the exposed head. Spock had never asked for hours anyway; he
                  was satisfied with what time the doctor could manage. McCoy
                  for his part was now experiencing achingly sweet orgasms more
                  intense than he'd ever felt before. When he ejaculated, semen
                  shot out rather than dribbled. For the first time in his
                  life, he could hit the headboard.
                  Without the foreskin, McCoy discovered a beautifully
                  gratifying spot just under the head of his penis. He touched
                  it every time he went to the washroom, a slightly naughty
                  delight reminiscent of his teenage years.
                  Spock suddenly engulfed McCoy's dick in his mouth, sucking it
                  all the way in until his nose pressed into the pubic curls.
                  Like a typhoon, McCoy thought as the blood in his turgid organ
                  rushed furiously upwards. He thought the tip of his prick
                  would explode.
                  The Vulcan was still holding his balls in one hand. As he
                  moved his lips up and down the shaft, he began gently
                  separating and pinching each testis until they were taut like
                  piano strings.
                  I'll break, McCoy thought, his hands digging into the clay
                  beneath him. I'll snap. But his penis liked the taunting.
                  He looked down, catching sight of it between sucks, bright red
                  and prickling under the constriction.
                  He heard a noise in the water. A canoe? McCoy didn't care
                  and Spock hadn't reacted so he didn't care either. McCoy
                  arched up and groaned.
                  Spock, damn him, lifted off and gave McCoy an evil sideways
                  look. "Are you in pain, Leonard? A stomach ache perhaps?
                  Did you eat too many tomatoes? I warned you."
                  McCoy grimaced. "Wait until. . . the next time . . . I do
                  Spock stuck out his tongue and just barely touched McCoy's
                  cock. "I'm thirsty. I believe I will go up to the house to
                  get a drink. Would you like one too?"
                  "What I want--" McCoy started, then cried out when Spock
                  grasped the base of his erection and squeezed.
                  It knifed. It ached. The pressure was like the dead centre
                  of a hurricane. McCoy's ears filled until he could hear
                  nothing except the oncoming roar. His balls filled with steel
                  bearings rolling and smacking against his urethra and coiling
                  it tight. Spock let go at the same time his mouth descended.
                  McCoy bucked up.
                  Come burned his shaft, then burst out. McCoy cried with each
                  agonizing ecstatic volley, seed pulsing and flying out into
                  Spock's mouth, then into the air when the Vulcan couldn't take
                  any more.
                  Immediately afterwards McCoy scrambled up and aimed towards
                  the lake. He had to pee. Even doing that felt orgasmic. As
                  his bladder let go for what seemed like an endlessly long
                  time, his hard on subsided. When he was finally done and able
                  to look at Spock again, he found the latter smiling like a
                  "You needn't look so smug," McCoy said happily.
                  "It is warranted," Spock said.
                  "You're an awful tease."
                  "Not all of the time, Leonard. Sometimes I am an excellent
                  tease." Spock ran his fingers over McCoy's lips. "Do you
                  wish to sleep out here tonight?"
                  "No, I'm tired of finding bugs in my ass."
                  An eyebrow quirked.
                  They gathered up their dishes and began the climb back to
                  their house. Neither of them saw a small ruffle in the water
                  off-shore as a shadow emerged from beneath tree branches
                  overhanging the water. A solitary, awed canoeist silently
                  paddled away.