Because 'Bones' is Also a Verb

A/N: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? I DON'T EVEN SHIP THIS PAIRING!!! *glares at Leeana69*

All right, folks. My Internet wife, a rabid, raving Spock/McCoy shipper, caught me on a sugar high over on MSN Messenger, and gave me the prompt: "Spock drunk on dark chocolate trapped in the turbolift with McCoy who for some reason is shirtless. GO!"

And this . . . happened. My main fic, my baby, I've been trying to write on for months without a lick of inspiration, but let Leeana give me a random prompt out of the blue, and the muses exploded with delight. Go figure.

The title, btw, is the title of the one Bones fanart I did, also for Leeana(notice a pattern?) It has nothing to do with this story, but it's hilarious and here: http://blackwidina.deviantart.com/art/McCoy-Demotivation-2-0-131159324 and my other ST demotivational posters(mostly Spirk) are all in my gallery at www.blackwidina.deviantart.com-feel free to stop by!


Because Bones is Also a Verb


"Goddammit Spock, and you wonder why I'm afraid to let you and Jim do anything by yourselves! This counts as a damn good reason!"

"Doctor," Spock said as sternly as possible for a Vulcan swaying on its feet, "Not only were you present for the contest, but I was not in any way responsible for Jim vomiting on your shirt. I simply pointed out that, as a Vulcan, my phys . . . phys . . ." A long blink as Spock tried to get his tongue to work. "My physiology is different enough that a drinking contest would be illogical."

"Oh, so that vaunted Vulcan logic made the two of you think that replacing your alchohol with CHOCOLATE SYRUP was the answer?!?"

Spock tried to look offended, then remembered that Vulcans didn't GET offended, and settled on superior. And glassy-eyed.

Suddenly, a chime went off and the turbolift came to an abrupt halt. "What the . . .?" McCoy muttered, tapping the comm. "Why the damn hell did we stop?"

"Sorry, Doctor," Uhura answered promptly. "Scotty was . . . assisting . . . the Captain to his quarters, and he ended up throwing up again all over an open console."

"Great, so now we've got to wait for Scotty to yell at whoever in Engineering left it open, and then make 'em scrub the damn wiring with a damn toothbrush like a damn ensign . . ." McCoy muttered. "And this is why I don't trust the two of you outta my sight. Somehow, you always manage to screw things up. Hell, I sent Jim with Scotty to get him outta my hair, and this is what happens!"

Suddenly, there was a very warm, very heavy weight pressed up against his back, "Doctor, if you wish to converse with me, it would be more logical to face my direction. If you're conversing with yourself, then might I suggest a psychiatric evaluation at our next designated hard dock?"

"Spock, don't you start talking to me about crazy-" he started. He turned and gave the First Officer a push, simply intending to regain his personal space, but the Vulcan was like a statue.

Spock looked down at the hand against his chest as though surprised it was there, then grabbed hold of Leonard's wrist. Raising the hand to eye level, he observed it carefully, despite his slightly unfocused eyes. Then he spoke softly, "I find it . . . fascinating . . . how humans are immune to the sort of sensations we Vulcans register in our hands." Very, very gently, he rubbed his thumb against the captured wrist he was holding

McCoy blinked, and again when that thumb slid closer to his palm. He'd been this man's doctor for years, in fact he was The Guy to go to about Vulcan/Human hybrid physiology. Spock's anatomy was primarily Vulcan. The race registered a lot of things through their hands, sexual pleasure being one of them.

Spock was, for all intents and purposes, molesting him.

He took a breath, "Look, Spock, I don't think you're in your right mind. Just because you managed to out-drink Jim doesn't mean . . . " He shivered as Spock released his wrist altogether to twine their fingers together. It wasn't so much the feeling that did it, it was more the look on Spock's face. He was wide-eyed, breath coming a little fast, gaze glued to their hands. This stubborn, emotionless bastard of a hobgoblin, known for having the personality and bearing of a statue . . . was aroused.

Leonard found himself captivated. Part of him, the doctor, wanted to know how it worked, how it felt, how it was possible that Spock was hard-and oh God, Spock was actually HARD, erection visible through his regulation issue pants-and over holding hands, no less! The rest of him just wanted desperately to see how much more he could ruffle Spock's feathers, how much more of that stoicism he could maintain.

It was that part of his brain that made him remove his fingers from Spock's, to reach around and grab Spock's wrist the way his had been held, and bring Spock's fingers to his mouth.

Spock's reaction was a gutteral moan that brought Leonard to full hardness himself, and Leonard laughed a little at his own reaction to simple Vulcan fingerplay. He reached his other hand over and gripped the waist of Spock's pants so that he could reel him in closer.

"Damn it, man! Come here!" he growled when Spock resisted, then nipped at a fingertip.

Suddenly, the hand was torn from his mouth, and Spock's was on his and his hard Vulcan body was all but pressing Leonard's through the side of the turbolift Hands were tangling again, not in a sensuous embrace, but in a desperate battle to get under clothes. Bones couldn't believe just how *hot* Spock was-like his skin had been baking under Vulcan's multiple suns for hours rather than being hidden under double layers of clothes in the cool interior of the ship. In frustration, he yanked off Spock's uniform shirt, causing the Vulcan to shiver a little.

"Oh calm down, ya sissy. I'll leave on the bottom shirt. You're acting like you're on Delta Vega." McCoy couldn't help but snicker at the reproachful glare Spock sent his way.

"Doctor, to think of it in logical terms, I am Vulcan; the sensation of cold is well within my capacity to-ungh." Spock's eyes literally crossed when Leonard ran a hand down his pants, and the green blush spreading across his cheeks amped up a notch.

"I hear the word 'logic' one more time, and I'm labeling you as contagious and quarantining you on the nearest M planet

"Duly . . . noted . . . Doctor . . ."

Bones grinned at the man squirming against him. God, how had he not seen how sexy this creature was? Oh, that's right. 99.9% of the time, he was an unfeeling asshole. But right now, this Spock, this blushing, panting Spock with one hand brushing trails of heat down his chest and the other braced against the wall by Leonard's head, as though he lacked the strength to stand up by himself . . . yeah. He could see why Jim kept him around.

And speaking of that hand . . . McCoy used his free hand to grab the hand on his chest again. If this was the only time he would be allowed to see past that goddamned Vulcan mask, he was damned and determined to make sure that this would be something worth remembering.

Besides, he wanted to see just how far he could push Spock.

Two fingers made their way back into his mouth, Bones running his tongue over and beween them. He'd always enjoyed using his mouth during sex, and watching Spock shudder and gasp in pleasure was nearly as gratifying as having it done himself.

Suddenly, he felt fingers on his face. He'd been in the crew long enough to recognize to beginnings of a mindmeld-had indeed been on the receiving end of several. This one was a little different, focusing more on the transferral of physical sensations, rather than thoughts or emotions. He could sense Spock enough to be aware of the other's burning want, right before the overwhelming sensation of just what Spock was feeling at that moment made his knees weak.

Whoever said that Vulcans's hands were merely sensitive was a master of understatement

It degenerated quickly after that; Bones would forever wonder how they managed to get their pants down despite their hands being engaged in various other activities, but so long as Spock kept grinding their cocks together like that, he couldn't care less. Before long, Spock was biting Leonard's shoulder in order to muffle the low scream as he came all over their stomachs, triggering the other's orgasm. They stood there, just barely keeping upright, until Leonard finally decided that he couldn't breathe with Spock's weight pressed up against him, and gave him a little push so that the Vulcan was leaning against the turbolift wall instead.

They lazily righted their clothing, McCoy trying to be stealthy about watching Spock out of the corner of his eye. He was trying desperately to memorize the other man like in these rare moments of utter disarray; not even caring come all over his lower stomach and black T-shirt, normally meticulously exact hair mussed, still flushed and slightly out of breath from their exertions.

As luck would have it, the comm chimed, with Uhura glibly informing them that everything was cleaned up, and they could restart the turbolift at anytime-indeed, hadn't they noticed the little blinking light that indicated everything was in order? They finished sorting themselves out-as much as possible, anyway, since Bones STILL didn't have a damn shirt-and started the lift.

The silence started getting a little awkward, at least for Leonard. His bourbon had worn off during their activities, and a part of him was appalled at his behavior. The rest of him was torn between worry about just how this was going to fuck things up between him and Spock, and the keenly felt desire to drag Spock back to his quarters and conduct some more experiments on those hands of his . . .

As the lift slowed, Spock finally broke the silence, sounding much more like himself. "Doctor. Should you feel inclined, might I suggest that we continue our activities in more a more suitable environment? I have some excellent dark chocolate and some bourbon that should be consumed before they lose their . . . effectiveness."

Once McCoy had decrypted that statement, he felta surge of elation that he knew damn well better than to show. "Damn it, Spock. I'm a doctor, not a call girl. You think you can impress me with some store-bought chocolates and booze?"

Spock turned a little and met his eyes, "I can assure you that both have met my highest standards. And I've kept them waiting for the right . . . opportunity."

Leonard considered this for a long moment, then gave a derisive sniff. "Well. All right, then."

THE END

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A/N: Well, that's that. One happy Lee, one slightly weirded out me. Regardless, I'd love to know what you think! Leave a review, for better or worse. Just remember that when flaming, I refuse to take you seriously unless you put in some effort. Seriously, you can't call someone a spineless, whimpering douchebag if you can't even spell it! XD