Reblog

vulcantastic:

Leonard H. McCoy liked to think that having been in the medical field for many years, and working on the Enterprise for nearly three, that he’s seen it all. Violent wounds, tragic deaths, inspiring births…and being best friends with Jim Kirk also had its advantages, despite all McCoy’s complaining about it. The kid always had him running around on this adventure or that. There was never a dull moment for McCoy, not since entering Starfleet.

So he decided a while ago that nothing much fazed him anymore. That was until, upon leaving medbay for the night, he was promptly shoved against the wall between Deck 3 and the turbolift by none other than Commander “Green-Blooded-Sonofabitch” Spock.

“That,” Spock said, breathing hard, eyes dark—darker than McCoy had ever seen them— “is quite enough, Doctor.”

McCoy blinked once, pressing his hands up against Spock’s chest and trying to shove him off, to no avail due to the Vulcan’s strength. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What are you—”

“Have you any concept of how difficult it is…” continued Spock in a low voice, almost a growl, “to watch you blatantly throw your affections toward others and have them reciprocated?” And oh, hell, was he sniffing McCoy? Jesus, yes he was, trailing his nose along McCoy’s neck as if McCoy was something to be…

Something to be desired. Possessed.

He swallowed, involuntarily closing his eyes and leaning back, letting Spock’s nose and mouth and tongue roam where they pleased. What was he doing? The Vulcan was causing him to completely disarm himself, give himself over…Spock wanted him. The fact that he’d been flirty with Ensign Janie Arlington in the mess hall earlier that day had set the bastard off.

"So, uh, just to clarify,” he said, his voice trembling just slightly, “you’d like those affections to be reserved for just you, huh?”

“Indeed,” replied Spock evenly, nipping at a spot just under McCoy’s right ear, making him writhe with pleasure in his pinned-down position.

He nodded a little. “Right.” And in one motion, McCoy managed to lift his arms under Spock’s grip and grab Spock by fistfuls of his science blues, tugging him into a long, powerful kiss. Two could play this game, dammit, and McCoy wasn’t going to let Spock forget it.

He pulled away from Spock’s lips with a pop. “Yeah,” he said, breathing hard, keeping his amusement toned down to a twinkle in his eye at Spock’s undeniably dumbfounded expression. “I think that can be arranged.”