He stopped at that
cafe, scarfed down some breakfast, glaring at the happy couples engaging in some morning PDA. Now he usually had breakfast
alone these days since moving out from his dorm and honestly he didn’t mind. But right now, it was just--It had felt
nice sharing a bed with someone and he’d realized he’d slept sounder than he’d had in a long time, because
someone was in bed with him.
And when he’d
woken up he’d noticed Spock with messy hair, clothes looking rumpled from being in bed and a day’s worth of scruff
peppering his face, however he probably wouldn’t show up to class like that so would probably take a shower and shave
and make himself presentable. Goddammit that Vulcan looked hot with scruff and Spock would be naked in that shower, and--
Why in the fuck was
he fantasizing and now getting a boner about Professor Spock, who he’d just platonically shared a bed with? Emphasis
on the word platonic, as in Professor Spock was his professor at Berkeley and therefore considered off limits, even
if the Vulcan had been interested like that, which he wasn’t. He didn’t even give off any inclination that he
was into men, like that, he was just lonely, like Leonard was, lonely. So he invited friends to sneak into his bedroom and
into his bed to watch ‘Dr. No.’ Maybe it was the Vulcan way. Yeah, that must be it.
He finished up his
eggs, jumped on MUNI metro which was clogged with commuters and made it to his depressing, lonely apartment. He took a shower,
jacked off, tilting his head back with an amazingly strong orgasm. He didn’t bother to shave.
He stood in a towel
in his bedroom, cursing as he stared the the huge pile accumulated on the floor, realizing that he hadn’t done any laundry,
(which nowadays consisted of using a real washer/dryer combo in the basement). At the academy they had clothes recyclers for
their uniforms. This old building, no. He dug his ‘last resort when nothing else was clean’ white medical coat
out of the closet, attaching his name tag. He hated this coat, preferred his scrubs (all of them were dirty, all seven pairs
of them). He carefully folded it up, put it into his backpack with the huge AdCalc treebook and his notebook and the sack
containing his hospital shoes.
Now for something
to wear. All his underwear was dirty, of course, so he put on the newer jeans he wore last night with no shorts underneath.
Now for a shirt....dammit, both Ol Miss shirts were in the stinky pile. So he put on the same black button up that he hated
wearing, and his jacket, and grabbed the umbrella as the weatherman said there was gonna be a downpour. And flip flops.
He made his way through
the pouring rain, reached BART station, made it to Berkeley at 7:30am. He dashed over to the coffee cart, bought his usual
‘red eye’. After a few sips of the coffee he managed to spill half of the coffee down the front of his shirt.
Goddammit. So he wouldn’t reek of the stuff, Spock hated the smell, he nipped into the bookstore and after looking around
was forced to buy a heather grey, long sleeved ‘Cal’ tee shirt. Never thought he’d live to see the day.
He dove into the math
building men’s room to take a quick piss and change his shirt, unbuttoning and removing it and stuffing it into his
backpack.
Suddenly Professor
Spock entered. McCoy could have sworn those dark eyes grazed approvingly over his bare chest, before resting on the grey shirt
in his hands. “Oh...hello, Professor.”
“Hello, Leonard.
Changing clothes?”
“Uh, yeah. I
had a little,” he pulled the ‘Cal’ shirt over his head, “accident.”
“I see,”
Spock said, his hands moving down to his zipper. McCoy’s eyes followed the hands, till he realized Spock was staring
at him, raising his eyebrow.
He quickly looked
away. Embarrassed. “See you in class.”
Spock moved to the
urinal and McCoy left him to it.
------
He arrived home from
the hospital a little after nine to find Jim Kirk camped out on the main doorstep. “Cal?” Jim sputtered. “You
have a fucking ‘Cal‘ shirt on? Are you feeling okay?”
“What the fuck
you doin‘ here, Jim? What if I’d brought somebody home with me?”
“Not gonna happen
in this lifetime.” Jim held up a box. “Pizza.”
Leonard sighed. “You
better have some beer, too.”
Jim motioned at his
backpack, grinning.
Leonard keyed in the
code to the main door and waved him inside. They darted up the stairs and he opened up his door.
He went for a piss
as Jim called out: “No furniture?”
“What the hell
for, Jim? I’m only living here for a semester!”
“Well, you could
have rented a furnished place.”
“No thanks.
That would have cost even more.”
“Nice bed. This
place is a hell of a lot nicer than the dorm. Nice wood floors. You should keep this and let me move in with you.”
“Don’t
think they’d let me stay,” he said, finishing up. He came out of the bathroom to find Jim sprawled out on the
queen sized bed, already diving into the pizza.
Jim held up the PADD,
pretty much one of McCoy’s few possessions, besides the TV on the wall, the vinyl player on the floor, already spinning
with the ‘Beastie Boys’. “Thought your professor confiscated this.”
Leonard flopped down
on the bed, next to Jim. “He gave it back to me.” He dug through Jim’s backpack and pulled out a beer, Coors,
perfect. He pulled the rest of them out and stuck them in the fridge.
“There’s
a ton of movies on here,” Jim called out to him. “Fucking hell. ‘Dr. No’. That one looks awesome.
Sean Connery.” Jim pushed the button to sync it with the TV to start the film.
Leonard suddenly found
himself stopping him. “No! Not that one.”
“Jesus! Relax,
Bones! Why not?”
“Just uh...no.”
“Okay, okay.”
Jim was now pawing through the record collection of his. “‘Patricia’ by Perez Prado? When’d you get
this?”
“Rummage sale.
It’s vintage. And fantastic condition. It’s where I got my table and TV.”
“No shit?”
Jim immediately swapped out the Beastie Boys and put on ‘Patricia’.
Leonard’s comm
beeped, he took it into the bathroom so he could hear over the music. “McCoy.”
“Leonard.”
It was Spock.
“Oh!”
He cleared his throat and turned to see what Jim was doing, Jim was engrossed in the TV. He turned back to the call, keeping
his voice low. “Hello.”
“I hope you
do not mind, I took the liberty of investigating your comm number and contacting you.”
“No, I don’t
mind. Not at all.”
“Is that
‘Patricia’?”
He chuckled. “Yeah...yeah
it is.”
“Fascinating.”
“Yeah it’s,
uh--what can I do you for, Professor?”
There was a slight
pause. “You have only seen half of ‘Dr. No’.”
“Uh...yeah...that’s
right.”
“I thought
perhaps we might finish the rest of the film tonight.”
“Well....”
Leonard cleared his throat once again. “How about coming over to my place?” He’d just have to clear up the
pile of smelly laundry, do a little dusting, clean his bathroom, go to the grocery store to fill up his fridge and get rid
of Jim--or why would he need to get rid of Jim, they were just friends, but maybe the third person would make the professor
uncomfortable--
“I cannot.
I would prefer you come to mine. If that is amenable to you.”
“Uh, yeah alright.
That would be fine. What time?”
“Midnight.”
Leonard noted the
current time on the comm: Ten o’clock. “I’ll see you then.”
“Affirmative,”
Spock said. There was a click and Spock was gone.
Leonard came out of
the bathroom. “Jim. I have to...uh...get back to the hospital.”
“What?! No!”
“Yeah. Emergency.
They need me.”
“Damn, I just
put on ‘Goldfinger’.”
“Well, you could
stay behind, finish up the rest of the pizza and watch it. Just leave me a slice and a beer.” He shrugged. “I
gotta go take a shower.” He nearly tripped on the pile of dirty clothes. “Shit.”
“Nothing clean
to wear there, Sparky,” Jim said, clucking his tongue.
Leonard bent down
and gathered up a pair of jeans, the two Ol Miss tee-shirts, a few pairs of underwear and socks. “What is it with you
and the nick-names?”
“Don’t
forget your scrubs,” Jim said, throwing a couple pairs at him.
“Right.”
He dumped it all into a basket. “I’ll be back.”
“Here,”
Jim said. “You take a shower, I’ll take your laundry down. Eat some fucking pizza cause I know damned well that’ll
be the only food you consume in eleven hours.”
“Jim you don’t--”
“Bye, Lenny,”
Jim took the basket and was gone.
Leonard scarfed another
slice, downed the beer, then dove into the shower, then shaved and brushed his teeth. He must have been in there for forty
five minutes, because when he came out, the laundry was already folded on his bed. “Thanks, Honey,” he joked.
“Alright, who
is he?”
“What’s
that now, Jim?”
“You. Hanging
out with someone.”
“I don’t
know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh,”
Jim said.
------
He reached Spock’s
house at five to midnight this time, tapping on the bedroom window. Spock let him in just like before.
He landed on Spock’s
bed, removed his shoes and jacket.
“Good evening,
Leonard,” Spock whispered.
“Hi, Spock,”
McCoy whispered back.
They got comfortable
on the bed, under the covers just like before. Spock put in ‘Dr. No’. “Here is where you fell asleep, would
you like me to start at this point or go back further?”
The only illumination
was from the TV but now that he’d adjusted to the low light he could see Spock staring intently into his eyes, with
those expressive dark orbs. It almost seemed as if the professor might be physically attracted to him after all...possibly...
which began affecting his own breathing. Maybe he was wrong, but there was no denying Spock was looking at him like that.
“You could...you could go back a little further.”
Spock used the remote,
but still staring. “Here?”
“Yeah,”
he said without bothering to look at the TV.
Spock let the hand
holding the remote simply drop, still staring, but now glancing from eyes to McCoy’s mouth and back again.
McCoy, throwing all
caution to the wind, leaned over and kissed him, ever so chastely.
“Fascinating,”
Spock breathed.
McCoy snuggled closer
to him, pulling Spock back in. “Hmmm?”
“I have never...done
this,” Spock whispered.
“What-- sneaking
a guy into your room to watch movies?”
“Kissing.”
“Is it your
first time with a male? Or with a human?”
“I have never
had sexual contact with anyone.”
McCoy hesitated a
moment. “Well...is this...alright?”
Spock nodded.
“You sure?”
Spock nodded again.
With that, McCoy brought
his hand to the back of the Vulcan’s neck, pulling him in again. Since this was the guy’s first time...holy
shit, a goddamned virgin, pure as the driven snow, who the fuck has never even kissed anyone at age nineteen, well he is a
Vulcan. He kept the second kiss just as chaste but lengthened it. Spock seemed to be enjoying it, anyway. “Open
your mouth,” he whispered and slid in his tongue.
The intense kissing
went on for what seemed to be an eternity, with McCoy still snuggled up next to him. Then to try to move things a little further,
he slid his hand under Spock’s shirt, feeling the flat, warm belly, traveling up to the hairy chest. Spock reacted slightly
to this touch but didn’t stop him.
He couldn’t
feel the heart beating, until he slid it over to the side. Spock’s heart was pounding. “How close is your parents
room?” McCoy whispered.
“Close.”
“How close?
Next door?”
Spock nodded. McCoy
froze. ohmygodthisiscrazy. Everything was going to have to be completely silent. “You better not be underage,”
he hissed.
“Would you like
to see some I.D.?” Spock shot back.
He glowered at that
and sighed. Without another word, he tugged at Spock’s shirt, so that he pulled it up and over his head. At least ‘Dr.
No‘ was still on to disguise a few noises, but it was almost over. He discarded his own shirt, crept over (careful to
not make the bed squeak) and slid on top. He could feel Spock hard against his thigh and by the little swallow Spock gave,
Spock could feel him hard against his. He began nuzzling and worrying a point on Spock’s shoulder and up his neck. Then
at one point he bit down on warm skin just so he could elicit a soft little gasp from those soft, full, bow shaped lips. His
hands slid over the hairy chest, awnsering hands moved up his back, to his hair, then to his chest.
His hands moved down
to Spock’s waistline. He dipped his finger underneath, experimentally. That got another reaction from the Vulcan. He
undid the button fly (old fashioned) and pulled the corduroy’s down slid off the shorts, grabbed the--goddamn it’s
huge--cock. Spock sighed at the contact, closing his eyes. He pulled everything off so that Spock and finally he were
both nude. He moved back up into the embrace, the skin to skin contact that was heaven. Felt so good, he half expected there
to be angels playing harps in the corner, Jim applauding--goddamned Spock felt solid, thin and muscular and warm--
Spock’s gasp
opened his eyes, their cocks had touched, so McCoy reached down and held them together as he resumed biting and kissing his
way around his new lover’s body.
Eventually he took
Spock into his mouth, and it had been ages since he had had totally silent sex, (and yes he’d done it before with parents
in the house, across the hall, but never them sleeping in a bedroom next door) but the soft moans (very soft), the heavy breathing,
the reacting hands at first clenched onto his shoulder, then combing through his hair told him everything he needed and wanted
to know and very soon Spock was coming deep into his throat.
He smiled and wiped
his mouth. He crawled up to hold a shattered Vulcan in his arms.
Then, Spock, the fast
learner, soon slid down and insisted on returning the favor and for somebody who’d never given a blow job before in
his life...mmmmm. McCoy didn’t know how he managed to refrain from audibly moaning and when he came hard into Spock’s
throat he bit down onto his own hand.
He dozed off in Spock’s
arms, and stayed asleep, deeply, warm and protected, until he felt the hand on his back, rubbing him, combing through his
hair, waking him. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Spock in the morning: Nude, unkempt black hair, the one day growth of
scruff...oh God, the guy was beautiful, he wanted to stay here forever and--
“My father has
left for the day. My mother is downstairs.”
“I know the
drill.” McCoy sat up, groaning softly, rubbing his face and reluctantly put his clothes on. Damn he had to pee really
bad, but like could really ask to use the bathroom.
“Are you working
tonight?” Spock asked.
“Yeah, noon
to eleven.”
“Ah.”
“Why don’t
you...come over...come over to my place, midnight tonight? We’d have a hell of a lot more privacy. I’m sure you
could...sneak out the window after the parentals hit the sack.”
“I am sorry,
but I cannot.”
“Oh.”
Apparently this was going to be a one time thing only. He did his best to hide his disappointment. “Well then, uh, I’ll
see you in class.”
“Indeed.”
He got in the window,
when Spock leaned over and kissed him. “Goodbye.”
He chuckled softly.
“Goodbye.” He leaned over and kissed Spock back, this time letting it--insisting upon it-- involving tongues again.
“Mmmmm.”
Spock broke them apart.
“You’d better--”
“Yeah, yeah,
I know.” McCoy leaned over for yet another peck. “I’ll see ya.”
Spock pointed. “Go.”
------
Crunched in with the
morning commuters on MUNI Metro, he made it back to Milk Plaza. He reached his apartment, ran upstairs and inside to find
Jim asleep on his bed, cradling McCoy’s pillow.
“You home?”
Jim murmured, sleepily, both eyes shut.
“Uh huh.”
“How’d
it go?”
“Fine.”
He took off his jacket, pulled off his shirt and jeans and stood there naked. “I don’t know--he’s my goddamned
professor, I...uh...probably shouldn’t be doing this with him, it seems terribly unethical but I don’t know if
there’s any regulations against--”
“There is and
I would,” Jim muttered into the pillow.
“I know YOU
would, but I don’t know...it’s uh...I haven’t been with anyone in a long time and it felt so fucking amazing
and right but I think I’m confusing a one night stand with-- I don’t know, Jim, you’re better at this shit
than I am...I’m not...I’m not sure if anything’s ever gonna happen with him again, but I...” he chuckled
to himself, “you know I think i’m falling for him...really hard... I’m trying not to...he’s my fucking
AdCalc prof, what the hell am I doing...am I out of my fucking mind...what if Berkeley or even Starfleet found out... never
gonna see this guy again after this semester...but I--”
Snore.
“Jim.”
Jim snorted awake.
“Hmmph? I’m sorry, what? How was it?”
McCoy reached over
and smoothed down Jim’s hair. “I’m gonna take a shower. Go back to sleep.”
He came out of the
bathroom to find Jim still in his bed, face down. “It’s thursday. I think. Don’chya have class today, Jim?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I do.”
He dropped his towel, dug in his pile of clean clothes for a fresh pair of shorts and his clean jeans. He dressed, folding
up a clean pair of scrubs and stuffing that and the AdCalc book into his backpack. “Later, Jim,” he said, picking
up his comm and heading to the front door.
“Hmmm mmm,”
Jim rumbled out.
McCoy made it to the
bottom of the stairs, sighed and clomped back up, opening the door. “Jim?”
“Umm?”
“What the hell’s
the matter with you?”
“Nothin’.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
He came over to feel Jim’s forehead for a fever, but Jim batted him away. “Your bed’s more comfortable than
the dorm bed, that’s all, Bones.”
“Tell me about
it. I’m getting spoiled.”
“Mmmmm, me too.
I could sleep here forever.”
McCoy rolled his eyes,
and walked out.
-----
“Oh my fucking
God,” the student next to him whispered. “He has a hickey.”
“Mmmm?”
McCoy grunted, then looked to see who she was referring to. And sure enough, peeking out under the black turtleneck, as he
moved the chalk across the board and turned around to lecture, the professor had what looked to be a green love bite on his
neck. McCoy gasped, giggled, blushed and at once felt terrible guilt. I didn’t realize I’d bitten him that
hard. He realized he had a matching one and at that he felt himself immediately getting rock hard, which luckily he could
hide under the small desk.
“Mr. McCoy,”
Spock called out.
“Yeah?”
“Number twenty
three, up on the board, please.”
“Uh, sure thing,
Professor.”
------
His shift at the hospital
wound up ending at 3am. Instead of bothering with stumbling home he crashed on one of the on-call bunks. Then three hours
later he was woken up for another emergency. So after swigging down a red eye and swallowing a stimulant pill he spent all
friday dealing with that nonsense.
He finally was able
to lay down again on the on-call bunk, which was hurting his back, uncomfortable as all get out, but not before checking his
comm--nobody had contacted him.
Damn. He tossed it
onto the table next to him.
He heard another doctor
climbing into the top bunk, before passing out.
------
He finally walked
into his apartment around 11pm friday night. Jim was long gone but the dirty laundry had all been washed and dried. All the
clean clothes including the ones that had been in a clean pile in the basket, had been hung up in his closet or folded up
neatly on his TV table. (he didn’t have a dresser).
He cursed when he
realized he hadn’t been to the grocery store, and therefore no food would be in the fridge. He opened it anyway. It
was full of food.
All the dishes had
been done up, too.
He, poured himself
a glass of bourbon, began fixing himself some supper and flipped open his comm. “McCoy to Kirk.”
“Yeah?”
“You fucking
shit head.”
“Yeah, I
love you too, Bones. Eat something for fuck’s sake.”
“I am. Coming
over?”
“No...I’m
kinda at this girl’s place right now.”
“And you answered
your comm?”
“Well, we
finished... for now.”
“Jesus Christ,
alright. Never mind.”
“You gonna
hang out...with him again?”
“Nope. Doesn’t
look like it.”
“Okay. Gotta
go, Bones.”
He ate his supper
(eating over the sink, no kitchen table). He poured himself another glass of bourbon, pulled off his shoes and socks. He turned
on the TV to CNN and plopped down on his bed.
He considered comm-ing
Spock. Nah. If the professor wanted him, he was gonna have to fucking chase him. Too exhausted to bother with it anyway. He
yawned in his fist.
He put ‘Sgt.
Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band’ on the turntable but before the needle reached Ringo singing: ‘I
Get By With a Little Help From My Friends’, he fell asleep face down, fully dressed.
------
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep.
He blinked open his
eyes--felt like goddamned sandpaper. He was still clothed, face down. TV still on. Record was still on the turntable, needle
running in the runout groove, (didn’t have automatic return or stop) playing the gobbledygook that the Beatles recorded
there.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep.
He felt around for
his comm, on his nightstand. He flipped it open, clearing his throat. “McCoy,” he rasped out.
“Leonard.”
It was Spock.
“Well, hello,”
he said, softly.
“Did I wake
you?”
“No...I was...
up. What time is it?”
“Ten hundred
hours--or rather I mean, ten o’clock.”
“Mmmm.”
“You have
the original mono version of Sgt. Pepper,” Spock said, suddenly.
“Hmph?”
“The runout
groove. I can hear it. That sound is only available on the original mono EMI recording.”
“You can hear
it on the digital remaster, too.”
“I can hear
the pops of the vinyl. It is an original pressing, is it not?”
Mmmm, yeah. I got
it at a rummage sale. Couple a credits.”
“Fascinating.”
McCoy snorted. “Yeah,
I s’pose it is.”
“Are you
working tonight?”
“What day is
it?”
“Saturday.”
“Yep, I am working
noon to ten.”
“Would you
like to come over at midnight?”
Goddammit, yes I fucking
would. I missed you so-- “Sure,” he said, calmly.
“Bring Sgt.
Pepper along, if you are able.”
He chuckled. “You
got it.”
------
“Leonard,”
Spock breathed, naked in McCoy’s arms. “I would like for you to penetrate me.”
McCoy came up for
air, after tonguing and sucking on an erect, green tinged nipple. He whispered: “You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
‘Sgt. Pepper’
was playing on side one for the second time around. “Ohhh,” he gasped as Spock ran a hand down his sweaty back
and cupped his ass. “With you-know-who right in the next room?”
“Yes.”
“Are you out
of your Vulcan mind?” McCoy hissed. “They’re gonna hear us.”
“I can keep
absolutely quiet, can you?”
McCoy panted into
Spock’s shoulder: “I dunno...that’s asking a lot...” A warm hand slid down and gripped the base of
his cock. “You know, your first time, sure as hell isn’t gonna feel that great to start out with, most likely
cause you some pain. You might cry out, no matter how careful I’ll be--are you sure?”
“I am positive.”
And by the sound of his harsh whisper, he was getting ancy. Spock’s cock was so hard, pre-come leaking out of slit,
that McCoy wondered if perhaps the pointy eared hobgoblin might actually get off on the idea of fucking with his parents
bedroom next door, in danger of being discovered. No. This was a terrible idea. A crazy idea.
McCoy sat up on his
haunches. “Aren’t they gonna hear the bed squeak, or you...y’know, maybe you wanna fuck on the floor...or...I
don’t know....”
“On the bed,
should be sufficient. My father is a heavy sleeper and my mother’s ears most likely will not pick up the sound.”
“Why not?”
“She is human.”
“Is she? You’re
half-human?” Spock nodded. “Yes she will. You know we humans can hear pretty damned well in the dead of night.
Specially mothers.”
“Over ‘Sgt.
Pepper’?”
“I dunno. Come
on, I’ll blow you, Sweetheart, we shouldn’t--”
“Leonard, I
really wish for you to fuck me.”
After hearing that
filthy word coming out of those bow shaped lips, McCoy caved in. “Just let me get some goddamned lube and a condom.”
God, had he even come prepared? He hoped--
Spock reached over,
opened the bottom drawer, silently, and handed him what looked to be a brand new tube of lube.
“What about
a condom?”
Spock shook his head.
“Unnecessary.”
“No, no, no.
I’m wearing a--”
“I am still
technically a virgin and you have not had sexual intercourse with anyone else in quite a long while. You have been checked
for STD’s since then. In Starfleet you receive routine physicals.”
“How the hell
do you know?” McCoy whispered back sharply. “I might be infected with God knows what nasty disease, that might
blow your dick off, or kill you--you don’t know-- I might have had sex with someone else, recently. Maybe I picked up
Denebian Syphilis, you know what that does to ya? That turns your brain into mush. Literally. Maybe I have that, you don’t
know.”
“Definitely
not.”
“Maybe you’re
not really a virgin.”
“Leonard. You
have already swallowed my semen and I yours.”
McCoy sighed mightily
and reached up and rubbed the sweat off his brow. He couldn’t believe he was hissing this argument in his lover’s
bedroom at one AM with said lover’s parents next door. “I’m supposed to practice what I preach, I’m
a doctor, not a--I dunno...” and he was starting to lose his erection after all of this, till Spock leaned over and
fluffed him up a little bit, and any resistance left him. “Alright, alright, come here.” McCoy pulled Spock in
for a kiss and maneuvered the Vulcan to lay to the side of him.
“No,”
Spock hissed. “I wish to look at your face.”
“God, how romantic,”
he muttered, huffing and pushing Spock to lay on his back, settling down in between his long legs. “Technical virgin...Jesus
Christ. You ever hear your parents doing it?”
“Leonard, please
do not kill the mood.”
He took his sweet
time preparing Spock, so long so that the Vulcan was getting obviously impatient. “Len--”
“Shhhh.”
He wasn’t rushing a damned thing, he’d take all night if he had to, because he wasn’t having Mr. Stoic here
crying out in agony and giving away what they were up to. Poor parents didn’t even know their innocent, dutiful son
was getting laid, right next door. His dick was starting to droop again.
“Leonard, don’t
think about them.”
“I’m not.”
He stroked himself to get hard again. “It’s gonna be messy without a condom.”
“I am beyond
caring at this point. Carry on.”
“It’s
gonna hurt you.”
“I will be fine.”
He slid in and heard
Spock grunt a little. “Told you.”
“I am fine,
continue.”
He eased himself the
rest of the way in, closing his eyes. He’d forgotten how insanely good anal sex felt...ohmygod...and no matter
how fantastic it was he had to make damned sure he kept absolutely fucking quiet. He leaned over, panting, kissed those sultry
lips, then began thrusting harder--
Squeak.
The bed.
He pulled out, with
Spock glaring at him in protest.
“Get on the
floor,” he mouthed.
------
And so almost night
after night he continued sneaking into Spock’s bedroom at midnight, fucking the hell out of him, silently, except when
he was on-call those weekends--and even exhausted as he was, lying on the bottom bunk in the on-call dorm, he’d get
a text from Spock, and he’d reply to it, which would turn into a sexting session and then he’d be writhing, frustrated,
wanting desperately to close his fist around his cock and jack himself off and finally giving in (even with another doctor
asleep in the top bunk).
The sex was fantastic,
but he had to say he mostly enjoyed sleeping next to someone afterwards--till Spock woke him up. Damn, it had been so long
since he’d been able to wake up in someone’s arms.
One of those mornings
he’d been woken up by the sound of knocking on Spock’s bedroom door. He’d froze, seeing his very life flash
before his eyes.
“Spock?”
a woman’s voice called out.
“I shall be
right down, Mother,” Spock replied calmly. There was footsteps heading away from the door and down the stairs.
“She never comes
in?” McCoy mouthed.
Spock shook his head.
McCoy dressed faster than he ever had in his life and darted out of the window (but not before a quick kiss goodbye).
Another time he’d
come over he noticed a PADD by the bed. “Well, look at that, you actually use modern technology.”
“I am writing
a new exam.”
“For AdCalc?”
“Not precisely.”
“What’s
it for?”
“The exam is
called: ‘Kobayashi Maru’. I did plot it out on paper, beforehand.”
“Of course.
What is ‘Kobayashi Maru’?”
Spock hadn’t
answered, but pushed him down on the bed, hand clamping onto his cock.
He forgot about any
more silly questions.
-----
The friday before
the final-- his nose in the AdCalc book, studying, him scribbling in pencil on his scratch paper-- his comm beeped. He flipped
it open. “McCoy.”
“Leonard...you
did say last night that you are not working today until 3pm. Is that correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you
like to come over, right now?”
“Now?”
He glanced at the chron. Eight A.M.
“My mother
has left for the day. I am in the house alone.”
“I’ll
be right there,” he said, snapping the comm shut and jumping into the shower.
-----
He positively reveled
in the fact that he could moan and groan as loud as he wished. And so could Spock and ohhhh those sounds coming out of that
mouth. After rolling around naked, their hands roaming, mouths biting, bodies moving with feverish intensity, Spock panted
out: “Leonard.”
“Ohhhh....Don’t
stop...whaaat?”
“I wish to fuck
you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
It had been a long
time since he’d been on all fours, bottoming. “Take it easy,” he said.
The lubed fingers
slid into of his rectum. “I will.”
The bed squeaked,
but it didn’t matter. Spock slid his cock in and McCoy cried out and moaned as loud as he wanted to and told Spock to
fuck him harder in full voice, it didn’t matter. Spock cried out and that sound was the most delightful thing he’d
ever heard. He came first, with a shout, ribbons of come shooting out across Spock’s bed. Spock came immediately after.
McCoy panted and laughed
as Spock pulled out of him and they both collapsed down on the bed, avoiding the wet spot.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Knock. “Spock?” It was a male voice.
Spock’s dad.
McCoy gasped in horror.
-----
The humiliating scene
played over and over again in his head as he walked slowly to Mission Station: Spock’s father entering the bedroom,
finding them in bed together. The disapproving but silent stare. McCoy being instructed calmly, coldly to get dressed and
leave at once. He did, looked over apologetically at Spock, who was of course, studying his own hands. McCoy making the walk
of shame down the stairs, through the living room, head down, unseeing anything but his own shoes and out the front door.
He hadn’t even
had a chance to clean up properly so he could feel---mmmmphhhh.
He flipped open his
comm. “McCoy to Kirk.”
“Yeah, Bones?”
“Jim, come over
to my place, now.”
“Alright,
alright, be right there.”
Jim was there waiting
on the doorstep as he approached. Jim was smiling, until he took in McCoy’s pale, anguished face. “What happened?”
McCoy was silent until
he led them up the stairs and into the apartment. He went to the bathroom, cleaned himself up. Jim waited for him, patiently.
He came out, sat down
on his bed, closed his eyes and unloaded on his best friend the whole story.
“Holy shit,”
Jim said, cracking up a little.
“It’s
not funny.”
“Sounds like
something I would do,” Jim said. McCoy couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face. “Ohhh, man, don’t
cry...come on...don’t cry...” McCoy felt himself being patted on the shoulder.
McCoy found himself
sobbing and burbling and Jim gathered him into his arms, “I fucked up, Jim. I totally fucked up. What the hell was I
thinkin’, sneaking around like that? His career, can you imagine what Berkeley’ll do to him? What about his dad?”
“Bones, he’s
nineteen. He can have sex if he wants. It’s ridiculous. They’ll see the light.”
“The hell they
will. My parents were strict like that. I know how it is. He and I are toast. Berkeley is gonna kick us both out.”
“Maybe his mom
and dad won’t say anything. They don’t know you’re a student, anyway.”
“Yes they do.
Spock had said he’d made the mistake of mentioning a Leonard McCoy in passing. His dad surely’ll look me up.”
“Maybe he won’t.”
McCoy continued to sob on Jim’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Bones. I’m sure everything will be okay.”
“Oh my God,
it was awful. Doing the walk of shame down the stairs...his dad’s cold dark eyes boring holes into my back.”
Jim chuckled. “Walk
of shame. I’ve done that.”
McCoy couldn’t
help but laugh too. “I know YOU have. Oh my God. Maybe the ambassador won’t--”
“The ambassador?
His dad’s an ambassador?”
“Yeah. Ambassador
Sarek.”
Jim broke out in a
fit of giggles.
“What, Jim.”
“Wow, Bones.
When you fuck up, you fuck up big. His dad’s the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth?”
“Yeah.”
McCoy leaned over and put his head between his legs. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
Jim got up, went into
the kitchen, poured out a double bourbon on the rocks, came back and thrust it at him. “Here.”
“I gotta get
to the hospital soon.”
“If you still
have a job there.”
“Thanks, Jimbo,
you’re a real fucking pal. I can’t drink this.”
“Drink it anyway.
Your nerves will appreciate it. Have you called your boyfriend, yet?”
“He ain’t
my boyfriend. And, no.”
“So he’s
some dude you’re fucking and you’re in love with. Goddammit, call him. See if he’s okay.”
“Alright.”
McCoy sniffled.
“Pull yourself
together, Bones.”
“I am.”
He flipped his comm open. No response from Spock. “He ain’t answering.”
“Text him.”
“I did that
already. Soon as I got out of there. Didn’t answer that, either.” He threw down his comm. “I gotta take
a shower.”
-----
He’d had to
work at the hospital till eight am the next morning. Before crashing on the on-call bunk, rather than stumbling home, he checked
his comm. Nothing. He tried again to contact Spock. Nothing. He fired off yet another text.
He wound up spending
all saturday and sunday at the hospital, on-call, never once managing to come home.
Finally Monday morning
at five AM he exited the hospital, stumbling back to his apartment. He checked his comm--still nothing from Spock.
Today was the last
day of class, final exam day--something he’d barely studied for, but at least he’d be able to see Spock, be able
to corral him in his office, talk to him.
He showered, got dressed,
shoved everything into his backpack, yawned and dragged himself to the BART station.
He reached the campus,
headed down to the basement of the math building at 7am (Spock would be there in his office-- should be there before class,
as it was his posted office hours.) Nope. Door was shut and locked. He pounded on the door. Nothing.
He leaned his head
against the door, rubbing his eyes.
Finally at five minutes
to eight he went up the stairs to class.
At ten minutes past
eight, the professor still hadn’t shown up. His breathing increased. Where the hell was Spock?
A TA suddenly walked
in and announced: “Professor Spock has posted his class. I am to administer your finals. Please make sure you sign the
roll sheet.”
He swore under his
breath, among all the murmurs in the lecture hall to the tune of: ‘Professor Spock has never ever posted a class. Ever.’
He took the exam,
quickly finished it up, handed it in, and signed the roll sheet.
He went back downstairs
to the offices, door was still shut and locked.
He reluctantly went
home, changed into some clean scrubs, went to work.
One week later, his
grade was posted, an ‘A’. Wonderful. Soon after he received a comm from the academy, informing him to report to
re-orientation at 0800 hours. By the end of summer he would be expected to return to the academy dorms and hand in his resignation
to the civilian hospital. He was gonna miss that hospital and his ol’ apartment of his, but it was lonely here, anyway.
He’d tried comm-ing Spock again, even showed up to the office at Berkeley, like a goddamned stalker. Door was shut and
locked.
He’d had Jim
hack into the system, to see if there’d been any activity. There was on one item. He glanced over at it. “That
looks like his ‘Kobayashi Maru’ exam he’s writing, Jim. He’s holed up somewhere, probably in his bedroom,
working on that thing.”
Jim turned to him,
eyes wide. “Kobayashi Maru?”
“Yeah. What
about it?”
“I have to take
that, next semester.”
------
Sunday evening McCoy’s
comm beeped. Spock’s number flashed up. He breathed a sigh of relief as he flipped it open. “Where the hell have
you been? I’ve been worried about you.”
“This is Spock’s
mother, Amanda.”
Shit. His heart began
pounding. “Where’s Spock?”
“We haven’t
been able to locate him in a few days. He even left his communicator behind. It is terribly unlike him.”
“A few days?!
Have you reported him missing?”
“Yes.”
Amanda’s voice caught. She teared up.
“I’ll
be right there, alright? Just stay there! I’ll be right there!” He tore off to the house, knocking on the front
door.
Amanda opened it,
letting him through the kitchen into the living room. The house was beautiful and it was unfortunate he had to see the rest
of the place under these circumstances. Amanda, after composing herself, explained that Spock gotten into an argument with
his father--a quiet and logical one, of course, but an argument nonetheless. Spock had ultimately left the house with a duffel
bag.
“I am really
sorry about what happened, Mrs. Sarek,” McCoy told her. “It’s all my fault.”
“Don’t
worry about it, Leonard. And please, call me ‘Amanda’. It’s not your fault. I’m glad he has you. He
speaks highly of you. His father...well....”
“Yeah. I know.”
After he left the
house, he jumped on BART and went to the campus to see if he could break into Spock’s office (he managed to get another
instructor to open it up). No one had been there for weeks. He searched the campus library, the local Berkeley city library,
the transient hotels, gave the landlord’s Spock’s description, no luck. He went to the San Francisco libraries,
began combing the hotels, motels and transient apartments there. Jim hacked into the system again, there’d been no online
activity.
He and Jim searched
everyplace they could think of in San Francisco to no avail.
“He wouldn’t
have jumped off that bridge, would he?” Jim asked, staring up at the Golden Gate.
“Jim. Don’t
even...don’t even fucking suggest that right now.”
“I didn’t
mean...Bones...I didn’t mean--”
“I know, I know.”
Finally after the
all-nighter of pounding the pavement around town, he had to get to Starfleet orientation.
He went to his apartment,
showered, carefully shaved and dressed in his red academy uniform.
He took MUNI to downtown.
At 7:30am, actually 0730 hours, he strode onto the Academy campus for the four hour re-orientation. While there, he tried
to convince his superior officer to let him continue to live off campus in his Castro apartment. They told him they’d
consider it. The same superior officer informed him that he needed a haircut and his eyes were too bloodshot.
Then, somebody else
said to him, entirely too cheerfully: “Welcome back, Midshipman.”
He scowled. “Thanks.”
There was a downpour,
of course, that evening, when he finally made his way back to his apartment. How appropriate. The dark storm clouds matched
his mood.
As he got closer he
noticed something...someone... and gasped.
Sitting on his front
doorstep, clutching a duffle bag, was Spock.
He ran up. “Spock!”
Spock stood up. The
Vulcan’s clothes were rumpled, his white button up shirt unbuttoned enough to show the hair on his chest. His normally
impeccable shoes appeared scuffed. He wore a long black pea-coat, dark beanie on his head which covered the ears. The dark
eyes were bloodshot, exhausted. Green tinged circles under the eyes. A few days growth of scruff peppered his face. He looked
like a zombie, but at least he was here and alive and okay.
McCoy bit down on
his lip.
“Hello, Leonard,”
Spock said, calm as ever. “Would you like a roommate?”
In the pouring down
rain, McCoy reached over, pulled him close and kissed him. Hard.
--------
fin.
