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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
(shaving)
Feedback: none, please. I wrote for someone who dared me to
use certain words I could never say in front of my
grandmother.
<<<>>>
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
water.
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
another.
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
disturbance.
"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
sleep.
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
notice.
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?"
"No."
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?"
"No."
"Leonard."
"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
you."
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
groin.
"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
recommending.
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
you."
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
satyr.
"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.
(end)
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