FIC: The Gift
Title: The Gift 1/1
Author: sangueuk
Rating: teen for innuendo
Character/Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Wordcount: approx 1,000 words complete
Summary: McCoy makes Spock jump on his birthday
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.
Author’s notes: This was originally a birthday present for the The Queen, aka cards_slash and posted as a comment fic. Now it’s cleaned up and posted on here because I am an attention whore.
betas abigail89 who pulls the cat out of the bag every time! Also awarrington who knows whether turbo-lifts should be going up or down and such important stuff as that which I fail at!
Intriguing snippet: McCoy was looking at him with that look. Once upon a time it would have been followed by an insult with ‘hobgoblin’ attached. Now it meant, “You wait till I get you naked, you pointy-eared bastard.”
The Gift
“Hey, Spock.”
Spock most certainly did not jump. His was a deliberate action borne of a decision to put his PADD down on the floor. There was, of course, a logical reason he had overlooked the slots and racks designed to hold PADDS on the bridge and had allowed it, instead, to slide from his fingers.
It was true that he had not, as yet, had a moment to consider the logic in his action, but since he always acted in a logical way (and to seek to ‘reassure’ himself of that logic would be ‘human’). Spock picked the PADD up and placed it beside his computer screen.
He adopted a neutral expression, neither acknowledging the Captain’s smirk nor Uhura’s raised eyebrow, and directed his gaze at the ship’s CMO.
“Did I make you jump, Spock?” McCoy said.
“Jump, Doctor?” Spock tipped his head slightly. It was a way of punctuating his thoughts while allowing humans time to catch-up with him. “I do not recall an occasion when you requested I should leap. Nor, if we take an alternate meaning for ‘jump’, have I been encouraged to ambush anyone by you, or any other person on the Enterprise.”
McCoy was looking at him with that look. Once upon a time it would have been followed by an insult with ‘hobgoblin’ attached. Now it meant, ‘You wait ‘til I get you naked, you pointy-eared bastard.’
“Or, Doctor, were you merely enquiring if I had been startled by your standing a little too close to me?” He looked down at McCoy’s lips. “While I confess I felt a mild level of discomfort at what you humans refer to as an ‘invasion of personal space’, I can categorically state that I did not ‘jump’.”
Spock did not manage to catch himself and noted he’d arched back an infinitesimal amount when McCoy brought his face closer so their noses almost touched.
“How about I really get into your personal space, Commander?” McCoy growled.
Spock blinked. His mouth felt fifty per cent drier than it had 2.4 seconds ago.
“The bridge crew-” he whispered back.
“-are likely all wishin’ they were in my place.” McCoy turned to the Captain. “Jim, I need to run some tests on Spock.”
“Nothing catching, I hope, Bones.” Kirk smirked.
“It is logical to be on the safe side, Captain. If you’ll allow me to follow the doctor to sickbay, I’ll be able to resume my duties in-” Spock looked at McCoy who was already at the turbo-lift.
“Twenty minutes,” McCoy finished for him, glaring at Sulu who responded with spinning his chair to face his console again.
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Kirk said. They could hear his laughter as the lift doors swished behind them.
“Happy birthday,” McCoy said, folding his arms and leaning against the opposite wall.
“It’s not my birthday, Leonard,” Spock said.
Spock watched the deck numbers speed past.
McCoy halted the lift.
“I think,” McCoy took one stride, reached round and slid both hands down the back of Spock’s uniform pants and pulled him close, “you’ll find it is…”
Spock brought his hands up to McCoy’s face and pulled his lips close. “I’m sure you are well aware that on Vulcan we don’t celebrate birthdays.” He ran his tongue over McCoy’s bottom lip. He tasted of mint and coffee and his breaths were short, an indication that he was aroused. “Since I am half-human, I will accept any gift you give me with pleasure.”
“Oh, I’m going to give you that alright, darlin’.”
McCoy’s dark eyes gleamed and he squeezed Spock’s ass-cheeks. It would have been illogical to resist the push and grind of the doctor’s hard groin against his since Spock had little else to occupy him in the turbo lift.
Spock slid his hands to McCoy’s shoulders to get a better hold of him. “Say it,” he said, his voice dry and brittle against the doctor’s jaw. Spock made a mental note to check the computer for climate control discrepancies on the bridge, one possible explanation for his uncharacteristically uncomfortable throat.
He noted how McCoy’s pupils had opened and filled hazel irises. McCoy brought his soft, saliva-slick mouth to Spock’s ear, and hot breath tickled the sensitive tip. “Happy birthday,” he said, then dipped his voice to say Spock’s first name. Spock thought it was illogical that his heart should appear to miss a beat on hearing these syllables uttered by a human. They were arranged in such a way that the challenge of saying them had only ever been attempted by the Captain. McCoy was the first to master the alien sounds.
“I’ve been practising,” McCoy smirked, letting go of Spock and allowing the lift to resume its journey down to his deck.
Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “Most impressive, doctor, but I fear there was a noticeable presence of your Georgian tongue in there.”
“I was hopin’ you’d say that after I gave you your medical, Spock, not before,” McCoy grinned.
“We have thirteen point four minutes left before I am required to resume my post, doctor.”
“Well you’d better get your Vulcan ass out of that uniform and onto my bed. Commander.” McCoy stepped from the lift. “Agreed?”
“Affirma-” and before Spock could finish, McCoy had him by the wrist and dragged through the door of his quarters. “Twelve point two min…” he couldn’t help saying, but McCoy had interrupted yet again with his Georgian tongue.
FIN
I need feedback like a needy little thing made of need.
Author: sangueuk
Rating: teen for innuendo
Character/Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Wordcount: approx 1,000 words complete
Summary: McCoy makes Spock jump on his birthday
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.
Author’s notes: This was originally a birthday present for the The Queen, aka cards_slash and posted as a comment fic. Now it’s cleaned up and posted on here because I am an attention whore.
betas abigail89 who pulls the cat out of the bag every time! Also awarrington who knows whether turbo-lifts should be going up or down and such important stuff as that which I fail at!
Intriguing snippet: McCoy was looking at him with that look. Once upon a time it would have been followed by an insult with ‘hobgoblin’ attached. Now it meant, “You wait till I get you naked, you pointy-eared bastard.”
The Gift
“Hey, Spock.”
Spock most certainly did not jump. His was a deliberate action borne of a decision to put his PADD down on the floor. There was, of course, a logical reason he had overlooked the slots and racks designed to hold PADDS on the bridge and had allowed it, instead, to slide from his fingers.
It was true that he had not, as yet, had a moment to consider the logic in his action, but since he always acted in a logical way (and to seek to ‘reassure’ himself of that logic would be ‘human’). Spock picked the PADD up and placed it beside his computer screen.
He adopted a neutral expression, neither acknowledging the Captain’s smirk nor Uhura’s raised eyebrow, and directed his gaze at the ship’s CMO.
“Did I make you jump, Spock?” McCoy said.
“Jump, Doctor?” Spock tipped his head slightly. It was a way of punctuating his thoughts while allowing humans time to catch-up with him. “I do not recall an occasion when you requested I should leap. Nor, if we take an alternate meaning for ‘jump’, have I been encouraged to ambush anyone by you, or any other person on the Enterprise.”
McCoy was looking at him with that look. Once upon a time it would have been followed by an insult with ‘hobgoblin’ attached. Now it meant, ‘You wait ‘til I get you naked, you pointy-eared bastard.’
“Or, Doctor, were you merely enquiring if I had been startled by your standing a little too close to me?” He looked down at McCoy’s lips. “While I confess I felt a mild level of discomfort at what you humans refer to as an ‘invasion of personal space’, I can categorically state that I did not ‘jump’.”
Spock did not manage to catch himself and noted he’d arched back an infinitesimal amount when McCoy brought his face closer so their noses almost touched.
“How about I really get into your personal space, Commander?” McCoy growled.
Spock blinked. His mouth felt fifty per cent drier than it had 2.4 seconds ago.
“The bridge crew-” he whispered back.
“-are likely all wishin’ they were in my place.” McCoy turned to the Captain. “Jim, I need to run some tests on Spock.”
“Nothing catching, I hope, Bones.” Kirk smirked.
“It is logical to be on the safe side, Captain. If you’ll allow me to follow the doctor to sickbay, I’ll be able to resume my duties in-” Spock looked at McCoy who was already at the turbo-lift.
“Twenty minutes,” McCoy finished for him, glaring at Sulu who responded with spinning his chair to face his console again.
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Kirk said. They could hear his laughter as the lift doors swished behind them.
“Happy birthday,” McCoy said, folding his arms and leaning against the opposite wall.
“It’s not my birthday, Leonard,” Spock said.
Spock watched the deck numbers speed past.
McCoy halted the lift.
“I think,” McCoy took one stride, reached round and slid both hands down the back of Spock’s uniform pants and pulled him close, “you’ll find it is…”
Spock brought his hands up to McCoy’s face and pulled his lips close. “I’m sure you are well aware that on Vulcan we don’t celebrate birthdays.” He ran his tongue over McCoy’s bottom lip. He tasted of mint and coffee and his breaths were short, an indication that he was aroused. “Since I am half-human, I will accept any gift you give me with pleasure.”
“Oh, I’m going to give you that alright, darlin’.”
McCoy’s dark eyes gleamed and he squeezed Spock’s ass-cheeks. It would have been illogical to resist the push and grind of the doctor’s hard groin against his since Spock had little else to occupy him in the turbo lift.
Spock slid his hands to McCoy’s shoulders to get a better hold of him. “Say it,” he said, his voice dry and brittle against the doctor’s jaw. Spock made a mental note to check the computer for climate control discrepancies on the bridge, one possible explanation for his uncharacteristically uncomfortable throat.
He noted how McCoy’s pupils had opened and filled hazel irises. McCoy brought his soft, saliva-slick mouth to Spock’s ear, and hot breath tickled the sensitive tip. “Happy birthday,” he said, then dipped his voice to say Spock’s first name. Spock thought it was illogical that his heart should appear to miss a beat on hearing these syllables uttered by a human. They were arranged in such a way that the challenge of saying them had only ever been attempted by the Captain. McCoy was the first to master the alien sounds.
“I’ve been practising,” McCoy smirked, letting go of Spock and allowing the lift to resume its journey down to his deck.
Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “Most impressive, doctor, but I fear there was a noticeable presence of your Georgian tongue in there.”
“I was hopin’ you’d say that after I gave you your medical, Spock, not before,” McCoy grinned.
“We have thirteen point four minutes left before I am required to resume my post, doctor.”
“Well you’d better get your Vulcan ass out of that uniform and onto my bed. Commander.” McCoy stepped from the lift. “Agreed?”
“Affirma-” and before Spock could finish, McCoy had him by the wrist and dragged through the door of his quarters. “Twelve point two min…” he couldn’t help saying, but McCoy had interrupted yet again with his Georgian tongue.
FIN
I need feedback like a needy little thing made of need.