NEW TOS Work Out 1/1 [R] (S/Mc)
Title: Work Out
Author: Artemis (ArtemisOK@aol.com)
Series: NEW TOS
Spock works out, McCoy gets all hot and sweaty
Disclaimer: CBS-Paramount owns Star Trek. No infringement
intended, no money being made.
Feedback: Will write for feedback
Beta: Thank you
Janet for the beta. All mistakes are my own.
Author's Note: Written for Spiced Peaches XVIII
Archiving: My Place and The Spock/McCoyote’s Den
The gym was hard for Doctor McCoy. “Hard,” he winced at the unintentional pun. Watching
Spock go through his Suus Mahna katas was murder,
and yet he couldn’t look away.
The Vulcan had been going at it for a half hour now. He moved from stance to stance with fluid grace. His strikes were precise and efficient,
not one wasted move. Some members of the security team watched in admiration
of their Executive Officer’s technique. Bones just watched in appreciation of Spock’s body.
Spock wore only gi pants, slung low over his narrow hips. As the Vulcan moved like a hungry sehlat, Len watched hungry as well. Spock was whip-saw thin. It was easy to see his ribs, as he
raised his arms to strike. It was easy to see his shifting hip bones that somehow
held up his workout pants. Through the light material of the pants, it was easy to see Spock’s package; sometimes in
sharp relief, sometimes just a soft series of lumps.
//Was Spock wearing underwear? // McCoy wondered. //Jim didn’t,
and the captain set the example for the crew. // Bones shook his head. //Foolishness, think about something else. //
The First Officer was surprisingly hirsute. Fine, dark hair began at his clavicle and thickened covering his pectorals.
A dark river of hair flowed down between his ribs, spreading like a bayou around his small discreet naval. The river gathered itself and continued to flow down his pale abdomen into his cream-colored gi pants.
With a stomp and a swoosh Spock turned his back to McCoy. Len was startled out of his reverie. Now
he observed the Vulcan’s scapula sliding in and out under taut muscles and green-tinged skin. With each twist and lunge,
McCoy became more entranced. Spock’s trim waist lead to the lower back,
its skin nearly perfect, saving for a small scar garnered in the gladiatorial ring.
Len felt a twinge of guilt and let his eyes travel onward.
It was worth the trip. The pants displayed the Vulcan’s
buttocks to full advantage. //So round, so firm, so – fully packed…
Down Horatio! //Leonard said to his dick. //Do not go there! // His little admiral
continued to stand at attention. //C’mon Len, concentrate on something else. //
Not daring to look down, Len looked up and was mesmerized
by Spock’s arms. Going through the pantomime of felling opponents,
they were strong and sure. McCoy knew their true power. Time after time, those
arms had saved his life. That added to their appeal. He wondered how it would feel to have those hairy arms wrapped around his naked body. To see those arms holding Spock inches above him as the Vulcan plunged into him. //Dammit! Arms, arms? Arms are not sexy! Yeah, boy, just keep saying
that. Hands ain’t sexy either. //
Button pushing, harp playing, neck pinching, mind-reading
hands aren’t sexy at all. As the empty hands mimed a spear
thrust, Bones mind wandered to other types of thrust. He thought about
those hands exploring his body, tweaking his nipples like that. Grasping his waist like that. Cupping his butt like that. Wait, what the hell?! Those were some
damned odd martial art moves.
McCoy stared wide-eyed at Spock. Spock came to attention and returned his gaze; a pulse of heat seemed to pass between them. Well, Leonard was sure feeling hot under the collar.
Spock ended his kata series by kneeling and folding his hands
into his lap. McCoy walked over to him.
The Vulcan looked up with whiskey colored eyes peeking out from under his damp bangs.
McCoy extended a hand to help him up. Spock took it and with a quick jerk
Len gave him a lop-sided grin.
“Whew, Spock, that was some work out.” He patted his belly.
“Maybe I should try something like that?”
Spock took in the doctor’s body in a glance. “I
would not be averse to teaching you a few holds.”