Gawd, Len, look at you. You're as bad as a cadet with his first big crush! McCoy had to grin at himself. God help him, but it was no less than the truth. Leonard McCoy, bon vivant and raconteur, CMO of the best damn starship in the Fleet, was hopelessly smitten.

Right now, the object of his affections was eating breakfast with Jim, clear across the mess-hall, yet McCoy was as aware of him as if they were sitting side by side. Can't get enough of watchin' him, can you?

Nope. And he didn't give a damn, either. For the last 3 days he hadn't been able to get the man out of his mind. All he could think of was the scent of his skin, the softness of that night-black hair; the feel of him, hot and hard in his hand -- the indescribable sounds he'd made as he came... Oh, yeah. Bones had himself a bad case, this time.

He allowed himself one very small sigh, then attacked his plate of sausage n' grits with renewed fervour. Enough of this; you have work to do. Now quit actin' like a damn silly old fool an' git to it, McCoy. Best to get out of here before he really embarrassed himself.

But there was nothing he could do about the huge grin lighting up his face.

-----///-----

Kirk was finishing up both his breakfast, and the briefing. "...so, basically, we're 'showing the flag' again. No-one expects it to do much good, but FleetCom isn't sure what else to do. That's my guess, and my snitches at HQ seem to agree."

Spock looked up from the cereal he was toying with. "It would seem a logical conclusion," he murmured. "With your permission, then, Captain, I would like to take the forward sensor array offline this morning. There are tests and calibrations that would be best accomplished before we reach the Neutral Zone. If FleetCom expects us to hunt for cloaked ships, we will need to make some changes."

Kirk nodded. "Makes sense. All right, go ahead, Spock. Just make sure that it isn't down too long, ok?"

"Indeed not. I should not like to upset Mr. Sulu -- he can be somewhat... excitable, at times."

Kirk laughed, remembering Sulu's plaintive remonstrations whenever "his" ship wasn't up to spec. "Yes, well... I have the utmost confidence in your team's abilities, Mr. Spock. I'll try and keep the bridge crew from pestering you, in the interests of speeding up the work." Then he glanced down, and smiled. "Off your feed again today, huh? Better watch it, or Bones is going to start nagging you the way he nags me."

He missed the momentary tightening of his first officer's face. By the time he looked up, Spock was as cool and unruffled as ever. "As you may recall, sir, I am often not very hungry at this time of day."

Spock was one of his best friends; maybe the best friend he had. But even Kirk couldn't predict what chance remark might send the Vulcan back into his stoic shell. He didn't worry too much about it. Spock was a damn fine officer, and in Kirk's opinion, entitled to a lot more leeway than he ever accepted.

At one point, a year or so ago, Kirk had been under the impression that it wasn't only friendship he saw in the Vulcan's dark eyes. It had saddened him, because Spock really was his best friend, and Jim had hated the thought of just brushing him off -- but the captain just wasn't interested in men. He never had been. But nothing had ever been said, and after a while Kirk had realized he'd been mistaken, heaved a sigh of relief, and forgotten all about it.

Now, he smiled. "Ah, don't mind me, Spock. Bones has been giving me the salad lecture again, and it makes me cranky." One slanted black eyebrow climbed, at his choice of words, and that indefinable ease between them was back again, just like that.

Only Spock knew what that gesture cost him, and he did not speak of it. He did not want Jim to find out what had happened during their encounter with the mirror universe. Neither, he knew, did McCoy. What would be the point? The captain would only feel guilty, over things he could not possibly have prevented, and it would help no-one.

And in any case, it was over now. Their physical injuries were healed, and as for the rest -- it would take some time, but Spock was confident that they would put it behind them soon enough.

For the most pleasing thing in his life, of late, was also the newest. He glanced across the room, unthinking, met sparkling blue eyes, and hastened to look away again. He did not wish to offend Jim by appearing inattentive. But he couldn't help the answering sparkle in his own eyes, and he kept his face from colouring by main force of will.

At least his breakfast was edible this morning, even if he wasn't very hungry. The tea was properly brewed, and for once the revna did not taste like Mr. Scott's beloved oatmeal. The new replicator algorithms were definitely an improvement over the old ones.

Somehow Spock got through the rest of the conversation without arousing the captain's curiousity again. He was not due on the bridge until 1400 hours; he would spend the morning working on reconfiguring the sensors. But he had already agreed to meet Leonard for supper tonight, in the doctor's quarters. There was much the two of them needed to discuss.

It was going to be a long day. For once in his orderly, disciplined life, Spock cha' Sarek was having a difficult time keeping his mind on his work.

-----///-----

Bones fussed and fiddled and fidgeted. He'd gotten here a full half-hour early, just to make sure that everything was ready. And now he was alternating between two states of mind -- a reckless, fizzing joy, and a melancholy certainty that anything as exhilarating as this couldn't possibly work out.

Yep. He had it bad, all right. Hadn't hit him like this in more years than he cared either to remember, or admit. And the weirdest thing about it was that the person who was the cause of his current joyously befuddled state was the man whose very face had scared him half to death, barely a week ago. Yeah, but that wasn't him. That was the other one.

Neither he nor Spock had planned on this. For years they had been colleagues and friends; amicable adversaries whose verbal sparring often amused the crew, not to mention Jim. Both had shared, unspoken, the wish to keep the captain safe from harm -- a wish both knew was patently impossible, but one which they nonetheless shared.

Bones had known for some time of the way Spock felt about Jim. It shone in the black eyes, and softened the lean hard lines of the Vulcan's face, when he thought no-one else was looking. The doctor also knew that Spock had not and never would speak of it to Jim, for the one undeniable fact about James T. Kirk was his love for the company of women. If he'd had to guess, Bones would've bet that Spock thought nobody knew, but the doctor was an inveterate people-watcher, and had always found Spock to be, well, fascinating.

If not for the encounter with the mirror universe, and the actions of their twisted, savage counterparts, this pattern would have continued, unchanged. Now, though, everything was different. Both he and Spock had been brutalized, physically and mentally, during that encounter, and in helping one another to cope with the aftermath, they had found their way to a new understanding.

The doctor scowled at himself in the mirror, and thought about changing his clothes again. Maybe he should wear something a little less casual... Pretty pathetic, McCoy. Grand-daddy'd probably just shoot your sorry ass, put you outta his misery.

Naah. Misery or no, he was having way too much fun to want to quit now. And it was getting better. Whatever Spock had done for him in the healing meld had made a big difference. He still had occasional nightmares -- but he could wake himself up now, and know it for only a dream. He no longer felt that cold jolt of fear if he met Spock by chance in the hallway. He was back to drinking his customary one or two shots at night, and no more.

He'd hardly laid eyes on the man this last couple of days -- he doubted they'd said three dozen words to one another. And it didn't matter. Who you tryin' to fool, McCoy? You can't stop thinkin' about him, and you damn well know it, too. He flashed on an image of himself, all done up like an old-time riverboat gambler, kneeling to give one very startled Vulcan a bunch of roses, and that was his undoing. One strangled snort of laughter, and he was lost, consumed by a fit of the giggles.

Which of course was when Spock arrived, and rang the door chime.

-----///-----

It was illogical, having been invited here, to stand out in the hallway too nervous to even announce his presence. Nevertheless, Spock did just that for approximately 2.7 minutes, before he finally leaned forward and rang for entrance.

Nothing happened for several moments; he was thinking of turning around and leaving when the door finally opened, revealing McCoy, flushed, with tears running down his face, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. Spock just stared for a moment, until he realized he was doing so. "Leonard?" he asked, puzzled and somewhat concerned, "are you quite all right?"

"Whoo -- yeah, Spock. I'm fine..." A strangled giggle and an audible wheeze cast doubt on the truth of this statement, but Spock said nothing. McCoy waved at him. "Well, come on in, dinner's almost ready. I really am fine. I was, ah, just laughing at something I thought of."

With a doubtful expression on his face, Spock did as he was asked. Humans were certainly interesting; even after all his years among them, he still never knew quite what to expect.

Now, he took the offered seat and waited until the doctor, too, sat down. He cocked his head, raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and murmured, "May I ask -- what was the cause of your... hilarity?"

The doctor chuckled. "In a way, you were, my friend." Spock looked even more puzzled. McCoy finally got himself calmed down, and continued. "See, I was gettin' all this ready, an' I was thinkin' -- you know, about what happened. About you, and me... And I just... thought of something, and I started laughing. And once I got started, I couldn't seem to stop..."

"I... see," said Spock, though in truth he did not. "What was it that you thought of?"

McCoy grimaced. Blessed Vulcan curiousity -- they were as bad as cats, honest to god they were. "You're gonna think I'm nuts for this..." Spock said nothing, although the lean face was eloquent in its own right. The doctor sighed, admitting defeat. "All right. I was thinkin' about you. About the way I felt with you, that night. About all of this. And I flashed on an image -- me, all done up in fancy clothes, kneeling, and handin' you some roses. Like in the old movies, you know? And then I just couldn't quit laughing. At myself, I guess, or at both of us. It's all I can do now not to start again, Spock. I told you you'd think I was nuts." He sighed, again, wondering how it was that this man could reduce him to babbling incoherence with a single smouldering look -- and why he couldn't bring himself to be upset about it.

Spock leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Actually, I do not think so at all, Doctor. I would not choose so colourful an image, perhaps, but I find that I understand the... feeling, all too well, of late." He looked very uncomfortable after saying that; he felt even more so. Nothing in his life had prepared Spock for this. None of his carefully memorized rules for human interactions fit this situation in the slightest.

He looked up into wide blue eyes, saw the sudden concern on the other's face. Concern for him, of all people. Spock, the misfit. Spock, the half-caste. Spock-always-alone. Spock, whose own bondmate had rejected him in front of both her clan and his. He had lived all his life with this view of himself, and yet this man did not share any of it.

He rested his chin on his steepled fingers, and tried to think of what he wanted to say. "I--" And he froze, unable to find the words he needed. A spark of long-buried anger made itself known to him; old despair tried to pull him down again. And then cool human fingers were laid against his cheek, and McCoy spoke for him.

"I know, Spock. God, do I know. This is pretty damned weird, isn't it. It is for me, too. I never expected this -- you, me... any of this." The human closed his eyes for a moment, and through that touch, Spock felt the pain inside him and the dread, as he said, "Listen -- I don't want to pressure you, okay? I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me. If you don't want to go on, just say so. I'll back off. I promise. I don't want to hurt you. Not now, and not ever."

Spock realized that he was biting his lip, and made himself stop. "No... It is not that. I do not wish to leave. It is only that, I do not know what to say to you. I have not..." He sighed, and finally he reached out with one hand, took those cool human fingers and held them, and tried again. "I find myself... thinking of you. I wish... to be near you, to speak to you. To touch you, to hear your voice. I do not understand what is happening to me... I do not know what to do."

Bones just smiled, relieved. "It sounds awful familiar to me, Spock. I've been feelin' the same way about you. I'll catch sight of you, clear across the room, and all of a sudden I forget what I was sayin'. I've gotten some pretty weird looks from people..." He fell silent for a moment as he considered what it was that he wanted to say. "Ah, Spock -- when you were a kid, did you ever, um -- did you ever find yourself very interested in someone? I mean, you know, thinkin' about that person all the time, gettin' distracted a lot -- like this?"

Spock spread his fingers wide, in the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug. McCoy rubbed at the bridge of his nose and tried again. "See, what I'm tryin' to say is, humans call this 'having a crush on someone'. It's something we tend to do when two people start gettin', uh, attracted to one another. It works out pretty well, at least, most of the time." He looked away for a moment, and Spock noted the growing flush on his friend's face. Interesting -- for all his studious pretense to worldliness, Leonard was no more comfortable with this subject than he was himself.

McCoy swallowed, then made himself continue. "I -- ah, well -- sometimes, you know, sometimes a human will feel this way toward someone, even when that person has no interest in pursuing, um, a closer acquaintance." Spock winced, very slightly, obviously thinking of Jim; McCoy pretended not to notice. Spock might choose to tell him, one of these days, or he might not -- but in the meantime, it really wasn't any of his business.

He just smiled, and continued thinking out loud. "That situation happens to damn near all of us, once in a while, and it does hurt. A lot. But at the same time, when both parties feel like this, hell, Spock -- it's wonderful! It's intoxicating. It makes us dreamy, and easily distracted -- and happy. Very happy..." He looked up, nervously, to find Spock quietly watching him with more than a little amusement in his dark eyes.

"I see..." Spock murmured. "You are telling me that this... confusion... is a good thing? That you have the same... feelings, with regard to me?" One corner of his mouth quirked upward, just a little. "I must admit, it is somewhat... disconcerting..."

McCoy grinned. "Well, yeah, it is -- but it's a good kind of confusion, Spock. It's pleasant. At least, it is for me." He stopped, looking suddenly concerned. "I, ah -- Spock, I wasn't thinkin', how it might be for someone, um..."

One eyebrow was raised, and now there was definitely amusement on that lean face. "Someone," Spock said quietly, "who was... inexperienced, in such matters?"

Fascinating -- the human's face was very flushed, now. Illogical though it no doubt was, Spock found this evidence of the other's discomfort oddly... comforting. But then, he was coming to realize that in this particular endeavour, logic might not be of much use.

Bones laughed, relieved. Spock of Vulcan, the original Stone Face, successfully teasing him about, well... Gawd. Who would have thunk it? "Yeah," he drawled, feeling himself finally beginning to relax. "Someone like, oh, say, you, for instance." Your move, Spock...

The Vulcan steepled his fingers together again, looking past them at the face of his friend. "I have found it... alarming at times," he admitted. "It has... disturbed my logic, occasionally. But you are correct, Leonard. Upon reflection I must admit that it is not unpleasant. If I have understood you correctly, it is the same for you?" McCoy nodded, grinning widely now. Spock continued. "Then logic would suggest that we are free to... pursue this, to see if it can be made to work. Do you agree?"

McCoy laughed again. "Yeah, I agree. Though I got to tell you, my friend, I don't think I ever got a proposition quite like this before."

Spock remained silent, but his expression clearly showed that he was enjoying this banter, in a properly restrained Vulcan fashion, of course. The two of them sat quietly then for a while, just watching one another and thinking. Finally the doctor grinned and shook his head. "Gawd," he muttered, "talk about gettin' distracted -- are you hungry at all, Spock? Cause I sure am."

Surprise, on that austere face. In fact, Spock realized, he was quite hungry. He had been so intent upon their conversation that he had forgotten about it. Most peculiar...

-----///-----

Dinner didn't take that long; after the first rush of hunger, neither man ate much after all. They kept getting distracted, watching one another eat. Both of them dutifully kept going for a while, but it soon became obvious that much of what McCoy had prepared was not going to be eaten at this particular time.

Finally, it was McCoy who put his silverware down first. "Damn," he said, blushing a most interesting shade of red under the Vulcan's deceptively calm scrutiny. "I, ah -- I can't stop watching you, Spock."

Black eyes looked back at him; eyes so wide and still a man could get lost in them forever, if he wasn't careful. "I have noticed similar difficulties..." the deep voice murmured. "I find that perhaps it is not only food... that I am hungry for." And McCoy had to bite his lip, then, when he noticed the flush on the lean cheekbones, the deeper tint to the tips of the pointed ears. For a minute or so he just stared, before rising and holding out his hand.

"Spock? I, ah -- would you like to..." And there, he plain ran out of words. But it didn't matter. Spock had risen too, and come to stand before him. One slim, long-fingered hand reached out; warm fingertips brushed against his jaw.

"You are frightened, Leonard. Why?" Spock thought that he knew the answer to that question -- but he had never really understood humans all that well. It seemed important, now, to make sure that he was right.

McCoy chewed on his lip in silence for a time. Finally he squared his shoulders and looked up into the taller man's eyes. "I guess I am kinda nervous, Spock. It's just that -- I want this to work out right. I want to touch you. I want to hold you again -- and I'm scared shitless I'll do something wrong, mess it all up. I haven't had much luck with relationships, over the years."

Spock's stern face seemed to soften a little, at that. He reached out again, took the human's face between his hands, gentle fingers brushing against the cool skin. He knew only too well what the doctor meant. "It is much the same... for me. But I do want this." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps... would you like to go for a walk? It might prove relaxing."

McCoy laughed again, nervously. "Umm -- well, you see -- I don't really want to get relaxed, if you know what I mean. In fact I was kind of hoping to get very much not relaxed with you, tonight." He smiled, obviously aware of how uncertain he sounded. Then he shrugged, and reached up to put his hands on either side of Spock's face. He just stood there, gazing into those fathomless black eyes, wondering why he'd never noticed before how warm they looked, close up. God, his skin is hot -- and so soft. He hadn't expected that, the first time...

Spock felt a slight shiver trickle down his back. He was not heavily shielded tonight, and he was picking up, through the places where McCoy's skin touched his, the other man's concern and desire, his determination to do this right or not at all -- and he was only just now realizing how very important it had become, to both of them, to try and make this work. He drew two fingers along the edge of the human's jaw, noting the faint roughness of stubble, the cool skin, the merest hint of sweat, damp under his own dry fingers.

Vulcans, creatures of the deepest desert, almost never sweat.

"Thee gives moisture so easily," he whispered, full of wonder at their differences.

Blue eyes fluttered closed and the human's head fell back, his lips slightly parted. Spock reached up and drew his paired fingers down from the top of McCoy's face to the hollow at the base of his throat. As he brushed over the shorter man's temple, a jolt of almost electric energy shot through them both.

"Mmmm... Do that again, Spock..."

He did so, and this time the jolt was sharper, stronger. He could feel the tantalizing whisper of the other's thoughts under his fingers -- calling to him. Desire flashed between them, began to grow stronger. He reached down around McCoy's back, gathering that cool human body against his own. With his other hand he stroked all the fine bones and delicate planes of McCoy's face, so different from his own. And yet -- a brother. More than a brother.

"T'hy'la," he whispered.

"Aahhh..." came the answering whisper. "That feels so good, Spock..."

Now he ran his hands down the other's back, slowly, savouring the lean build, the smooth sliding of muscles over bone, stopping finally to cup the small, firm cheeks, pull the human closer to him. A warm heavy throbbing began in the pit of his belly, migrated to the suddenly needful flesh between his legs. He swayed, momentarily overwhelmed with these still-new sensations.

Firm strong hands caressed his own back; stroked the curves of his ass, the hollows just above that hid his chenesi, and grasped him about the waist. Ripples of arousal spread outward from each touch, and he swayed again, only to find those hands supporting him. "Easy, Spock, easy -- it's all right. We don't need to rush; we have plenty of time..." Now they began to move together, gently, and Spock gasped as he felt his own hardness brush against the other's.

"Ah!" He sucked air, fought for some measure of control. "Leonard -- please..."

Dancing blue eyes met his, and a warm welcoming smile lit the doctor's face. "What is it, Spock? You all right? 'M I goin' too fast?"

"No! No. It is not that... It is that, I wish to... I need..."

And there they were, cool human fingers at his temples, where the meld points were. Heat flashed through him, began to build. He understands!

"Spock -- t'hy'la -- please, go ahead. Touch my thoughts. I want you in here with me. I need you in here with me." And he did; he laid his fingers against McCoy's face, finding the meld points without having to look, so attuned were they becoming. Shimmering electric tingles under his fingers, inside his mind... Quicksilver darting of the human's thoughts -- chaotic at first, but the longer he touched, the more order he perceived. Not the rigid logical order of the Vulcan minds he had touched -- but order, nonetheless.

And need, for him. Desire, for him. And underneath that, both fear and delight. Fear that this might be all Spock would accept, and delight at gaining even this much despite the constraints of Vulcan custom and Tradition, at finally overcoming his own fear of the meld, his memories of what had happened to him before, at the hands of Spock's savage counterpart.

Spock let his fingers fall but kept the link between them open; he lowered his head and let his lips say for him what he still did not have the words to express.

McCoy let his eyes close again, and gave himself up to the experience of being very thoroughly kissed, by the one he most desired. God, he's getting good at this! Lips opened, tongues dueling, the kiss went on and on, and oh, it was good. Even better than before. They were coming to know one another more thoroughly now; neither was as tentative as both had been that first time.

He reached up to caress his lover's neck, the side of his face, the edge of one pointed, green-flushed ear. A shiver ran through the slim form in his arms, and he hugged Spock tightly, supporting him against the dizziness he could feel in his own self too. Spock's hands had fallen from his face, but McCoy could feel that the link between them was still open. Now both of them were pressing their bodies together, hands grasping at asses, swaying, just a little. Finally McCoy had to pull back, get some air. Damn, what a kisser! He planted one last little peck on kiss-softened lips, leaned back a little, and grinned. "Whoo-ee! You learn fast, Spock!" Then he stepped back, took one warm slender hand in his, and pulled gently. "What say we go set down over here, before we end up fallin' down, hmmm?"

A gentle half-smile on a lean Vulcan face. "Hm, indeed. Perhaps that would be the wisest course, Leonard."

Spock let McCoy lead them into his sleeping alcove, and sat beside him on the edge of the narrow bunk. The sensations of arousal were nearly overwhelming; except for his disastrous pon farr, he had never felt like this before. That first night when he and Leonard had held one another, it had been different; at least as much about comfort as about desire. This, though, was pure desire -- and it was a truly delightful thing.

He leaned forward and began to plant a trail of kisses along the human's jaw, pausing to nuzzle at the hollows behind his ears, to nip at his earlobes, just hard enough to sting a little. McCoy drew in a ragged gasp and reached back, and Spock found himself the recipient of the same sort of kiss he had earlier given Leonard. It was a distinct effort to remember to breathe -- and yet it was not at all an unpleasant sensation. Just, incredibly distracting.

A brief pause, while both men tried without much luck to calm themselves, to steady their breathing. Finally McCoy grinned up at him. "Mmmm! You taste good, mister! C'mere..." And Spock let himself be drawn downward, until the two of them lay wrapped in each other's arms, holding one another tightly, falling together into yet another kiss.

Hips brushed together; heat and hardness meeting, bodies pushing against one another -- and they nearly fell off the bed, as both of them got carried away in the heat of the moment. McCoy laughed, then, and slithered off to one side, pushing Spock down flat on his back. He reached to undo the seam of Spock's tunic, and as the fabric fell aside, he leaned down to nip and suck at the flat, jade-bronze nipples, to tug at curled black fur with his teeth, to puff hot breath into the shallow navel... Lean strong hips thrust up against his belly, as he lay there enjoying the taste of the other, the feel of him, the copper and musk scent of him.

Warm hands were pulling him upwards, but he slid out of their grasp and continued his downward journey. A snap, a tug, and the black trousers were undone, and he was pulling on them, tugging them down, down. Black regulation briefs strained to hold an obviously needful erection; Bones stroked his hands along that bulge once, twice, again... A gasp was his reward, and another upward thrust of the slender frame. Long-fingered hands fluttered, empty, beside the Vulcan's hips; he was lost in the flood of sensations the human was creating.

Carefully, almost reverently, McCoy slid the briefs down also, freeing the straining shaft. He bent his head to lick at the tip of it, to sup at the single clear drop that quivered there. "Mmmm...," he purred. "Sweet. That's different." Slowly he ran his tongue down the length of it, licking at the cleft between the two ridges, nuzzling warm furred balls, then swooping to take it in his mouth, as far as he could. Up and down he moved, licking, sucking, smiling at the sound of the soft moans from the head of the bed. Tremors ran through the slim, warm body -- Spock's breathing was ragged, urgent, his pulse racing too fast for even McCoy to count. He kept on, laving hot flesh with his tongue, allowing his teeth to just barely scrape against tender, swollen ridges... With his fingers, he reached down, to roll and massage Spock's balls, trace the line of the cleft of his ass, reach up and rub the hollows where the chenesi nestled. Spock shuddered and moaned, his head thrashing on the pillow, his fingers gripping the edges of the bed so hard the sheet began to tear. And Bones felt it, a gathering hum, a tightness in the flesh beneath him... The cock in his mouth swelled even more, impossibly hard, so hot... He plunged downward and swallowed, lost in the sensations he could feel through the meld, letting his throat work -- and very gently, he pushed one careful finger into the tight hot flesh of his lover...

And Spock convulsed, nearly throwing them both off the bed. All his awareness was between human lips; it felt as if his whole self was pouring out with his seed, being sucked down by a greedy human throat. The finger inside him reached, stroked, igniting fresh waves of heat and fire... Release; glorious, joyous release, pouring through him in seemingly endless waves... He was only dimly aware of the human's own orgasm; fired by the meld, driven by his own, it swept back and forth between them, again and again.

Until finally it was over and he lay spent, utterly limp and boneless, held safely in the arms of his lover. Little tremors and ripples coursed through his flesh; one last shudder as a final kiss was placed on his cock, and the human slid upwards to cuddle up around him. Both of them were wet, slick, and totally spent. A deep and satisfied sigh escaped him, and he returned the caress, holding McCoy tightly in arms that felt quite weightless...

"Mmmmmm...."

"Ahhh..."

One thought, in two minds: so good!

Neither one of them noticed exactly when they fell asleep.

-----///-----

He dreamed that a cat was washing his hands. A very big, very warm, cat. He stretched and smiled, as the hot tongue slurped its way along his fingers, dipped down to suck on the space between thumb and hand, swiped its way across his palm...

"Mmmm, that's nice..."

"I am pleased that you approve, Leonard."

Startled blue eyes opened wide, and McCoy found himself the object of a very warm Vulcan gaze. Spock's hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions; his face was flushed green, his lips still swollen from all their kisses -- and McCoy instantly decided he looked wonderful like that. "Mmm-hm! Now you look good enough to eat, my friend. C'mere!" And he reached out and drew the other to him, wrapped his arms around him, and proceeded to kiss him within an inch of his life.

"There! That's how we say g'mornin', where I come from."

"Indeed. Most enjoyable, I must admit. But perhaps, further research..." Now it was Spock's turn to pull his lover close, roll over so that the human was underneath, and very thoroughly and with proper Vulcan attention to detail, kiss him back. Both men felt themselves growing harder, but it was McCoy who had to come up first for air.

"Whoo!! Yeah, OK, I'll buy that for a credit -- good mornin' to you, too!" And he reached up and twined his arms around the Vulcan's so-warm neck, bumped his hips upwards, and smiled as he felt the other's hardness pressing against his own very eager flesh. "Well hi there, sailor. That a rocket in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

Just the barest hint of a smile, on that austere face. "I believe, if I understand you correctly, that I am, indeed, 'glad to see you'." And Spock thrust his own hips downward, gently, both amused and awed to see the other's eyes grow vague, unfocused, his arousal so ready, so free and easy. Humans were such sensual creatures. It was positively intoxicating.

"Ah! Oh, yeah. Do that some more, Spock -- please..." So he did, the two of them moving together, swaying, in the oldest most instinctive rhythm of them all -- until he felt his body catch fire, suddenly eager, wanting more, something different... Something he himself had never done before -- but he wanted to, oh yes...

McCoy felt it too. They were still very much attuned to one another, though not actually melded any more. He paused, lay still, looking upward into burning black eyes, green-flushed cheeks, savouring the fact that for once it was he who had more self-control. Man, all that talk about Vulcans being cold was a crock! You just had to know how to light 'em off right, was all. Then, whoo, boy, stand back and watch that fire burn!

"Spock," he whispered, reaching up for a quick kiss. "Spock, listen -- I..."

"Mmm?" Hot, hot lips, nuzzling at his throat -- and suddenly, hot fingers, reaching down, caressing him. He felt his legs part, seemingly of their own will, opened himself wider for the touch he so desired. "Leonard," and that deep voice was practically purring, right in his ear, oh god... He squirmed and pushed himself against the eagerly exploring fingers, felt one begin to slip inside... Ohhh, god, yes...

"Leonard, I want... I hunger, for you. I wish..." Spock paused, took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, to slow down. So difficult! He needed this... "I wish... to be inside you..."

"God, yes! Hurry, please... I can't wait much longer, Spock. Please!" McCoy let his legs part even more, felt the warm heavy weight of his lover, so solid, so strong. Safe. Mmmm. I'm safe with him. And he had to smile, then, hearing that calm Vulcan breathing stutter and grow ragged, feeling the already rapid pulse of his lover accelerate in leaps and bounds.

Spock pulled back, then knelt between the so-inviting thighs. He bent down to take the human in his mouth, to lick and suck as his hands roamed here and there, caressing, pinching, stroking -- making him ready. The slender hips bucked up against him and the human moaned and tossed his head. Spock permitted himself a smile, when he noticed the small jar on the bedtable. Fascinating -- a resourceful person, this human of his. How did he know? But there was no way of knowing, and at the moment he had other things on his mind...

Quickly he took the jar, coated his fingers, and reached down between them again, to stroke and caress what he hungered for. A strangled moan and a bone-deep shudder were the results, as he gently inserted first one, then two well-greased fingers, letting the other's sensations guide him as to what to do next. A sudden thought, and he tried what he'd felt Leonard try on him last night -- he turned his hand until he could feel a small, hard place -- yes. That, right there. He stroked at it, and the resulting wave of pleasure nearly overwhelmed them both.

Cool human legs tried to wrap about his waist, and from underneath him came a muffled plea... "Spock, please!! Hurry, I need you!" And Spock realized that he couldn't remember quite why he'd been hesitating or what he was waiting for -- and that the depth of his own hunger was just as strong as that of the man beneath him.

One last moment, while he slathered the grease along himself, gasping at the cool, silky feel of it rubbing across his skin -- and then as gently as he could, he put the tip of his cock against the eager quivering flesh that awaited him. The sensation was just too much. He moaned, and with one sharp thrust, he was inside. And oh! So tight... He gasped, held still, fought for control, waves of pleasure roiling through them both...

That was not what his partner wanted. Desperate hands grasped at his hips and pulled him closer; hungry lips reached up for him, and a husky voice purred in his ear, "Come on, dammit! What are you waitin' for, Spock?" And again the cool, slender body thrust up against him -- and Spock surrendered willingly, joyously, to the Need they both shared. He thrust inwards again and again, slamming himself against the so-willing flesh of his lover, burying himself in that tightness, that surprising inner heat.

McCoy was lost... so full, so hot! He wrapped his legs around Spock's waist and held on for dear life, squeezing all his muscles around that wonderfully hot, hard cock. Oh yes, this was good, this was what he'd needed, wanted... He reached up, found and bit one green-flushed ear, and was rewarded by a feral growl and a renewed frenzy of thrusts. He threw his head back and yelled, totally unconcerned with soundproofing or passersby, "Oh, yeah!! Like that, oh god yeah -- more, man, more!!"

Spock was only too happy to oblige. The tension growing within him was like nothing he'd ever felt; fiery, electric, it felt as though his very nerves were burning up -- and it was wonderful. He couldn't get enough of it. Dimly, even through his own pleasure, he could feel the same thing happening to the human, as well, their joint perceptions serving only to increase the intensity, to heighten their responses... He pulled back, almost to the edge; he paused, for just an instant -- and then buried himself as deeply as he could. Once more; twice -- and the third time, he felt the climax overtake them both. Waves and waves of it, pouring through and out of him; waves and waves of it, in the human thrashing underneath him. Hot flooding wetness within and without, ecstasy fizzing back and forth between them, through the meld he hadn't even noticed as it formed. It went on and on, until finally, spent and quite out of breath, he collapsed, only just remembering to fall to one side, to let McCoy breathe, too. He barely noticed it when he finally slipped free; he was too busy trying to catch his breath.

Neither said a word; both were sweating, gasping for air, amazed at the way their hearts were galloping out of control. It took quite some time before either could draw a breath without panting and wheezing; both were content to simply lie there and hold one another.

Finally it was McCoy who leaned his head to the side, and favoured the exhausted Vulcan with an enormous grin. Spock couldn't help it; a shy half-smile flitted across his own face, in response. "Mm, boy," the human purred. "You, my friend, are a regular fucking machine. You know that? That was just fine, mm-hmm, yeah." And he waggled his hips again, still grinning.

Spock looked back at him, feeling himself smile again. "You are... no slouch, yourself, Leonard," he murmured, pondering the fact that his entire body seemed to have turned to boneless mush. It was not an unpleasant sensation, he decided, as he tucked his head against the other man's shoulder. "I suggest, however, that we attempt to actually sleep. It will be morning rather sooner than I, for one, would prefer."

"Heh, heh, heh. Yeah, I guess it will, at that. But I tell you what. Right now, I don't much care what happens next. I'm a happy boy, my beautiful hot-blooded friend. Oh, yeah."

One last kiss; one final, shared, smile. A few moments of snuggling and adjusting, fitting themselves around one another on the narrow StarFleet bed -- a process made much easier by their mutual state of utter relaxation. And finally, silence, as two pairs of eyes drifted closed, and two extremely tired lovers slipped off into a well-earned sleep.

-----///-----

Morning. And for once, Leonard McCoy, never much of a morning person, was in a good mood. He whistled as he walked into the mess hall; greeted the last of the nightshift crew with a cheerful smile -- even grinned and smacked his lips at the scent of the coffee he usually derided so much. Jim Kirk couldn't resist it; his curiousity was definitely getting the better of him. He waved and attracted the doctor's attention, motioned to him to come and sit beside him.

Still grinning, McCoy ambled over and sat down, setting a full tray in front of him and licking his lips appreciatively.

"Damn, Bones -- I don't know when I've ever seen you this cheerful, so early in the day. What's up, hot date last night?"

The doctor grinned even wider, blushing and lowering his eyes. "Oh... yeah, I guess you could say that. Hey -- you gonna eat those sausages?"

"What? No. My eyes were bigger than my stomach, this morning. Go ahead. So tell me, Bones -- who is she? Anyone I know?" And he turned his very best Jim Kirk megawatt smile on his still grinning friend. Now he was really curious.

McCoy looked up at him for a moment. "Ah, ah, ah, Jim-boy -- a gentleman doesn't kiss an' tell. Now you know that. Didn't your momma raise you right?" And they both laughed, feeling relaxed, easy, enjoying the gentle teasing back and forth.

Kirk kept poking at it, as they both ate, and McCoy just let him, enjoying the feeling, for once, of being in the catbird seat. Usually it was him trying to pump Jim for the latest bit of gossip. Revenge was indeed sweet.

And then Spock walked in and McCoy's hand froze, halfway to his mouth, as his face turned the most beautiful shade of red Kirk had seen him blush in years. He gaped, looking from the Vulcan, standing cool and calm in the chow line, to his CMO, blushing like a schoolboy -- and the penny dropped. "Bones? Spock??? No way. I don't believe it."

Busted. McCoy shrugged, and decided to put the best face on it. "Well, believe it, Jim." He laughed, then, seeing the thunderstruck expression on his captain's face. "Whatsamatter, you didn't think he had it in him? Well, he does, lemme tell ya." And he rolled his eyes salaciously. Oh, man. This was just too damn funny!

Kirk spluttered. "Yes, but Bones -- what the..."

Spock, meanwhile, had noticed what was happening. Black eyes and blue shared a moment of laughing communion, and a slanted black eyebrow shot upwards. For the barest moment Spock thought about saying no. He had not actually planned on telling anyone just yet, much less Jim, of whose reaction he was most unsure. But the look on Leonard's face -- laughing, open, relaxed -- it had been a long time since he'd seen that look on that particular face. And Jim, whatever his private preferences, had never been less than completely professional as the captain of the Enterprise. It was unlikely that any serious problem would arise. And Vulcan reticence, followed strictly, would have kept he and Leonard from reaching their present, most enjoyable understanding. Spock decided, all in an instant, and nodded, letting just the tiniest hint of a smile cross his face, too fast for anyone but the watching McCoy to see it. Then he turned back to the chow line, for once enjoying the fact that his sharper Vulcan hearing let him eavesdrop on his crew-mates. This should be good...

This morning, even the fact of Kirk's resolute unavailability lacked its usual power to disturb him. He had slept better last night than he had in quite some years, and awakened held securely in cool but loving arms. There was much to be said, he decided, for the human approach to sexuality. He found himself quite looking forward to conducting further research...

Kirk wasn't used to being flustered over anything sexual. He had quite the reputation, and well-earned at that; it had been years since he'd found himself floundering like this. "Bones? You're telling me you do what with Spock?"

McCoy just laughed. "Oh, grow up, Jim. You sit right up front every year when I give the Safe Sex lectures -- you know damn well what two men can do together. Heh, heh... boy, I wish I had me a camera right now. The look on your face... Whoo, dawgies!"

Which of course was when Spock walked up, put down his tray of cereal and tea and wearing a mask of perfect Vulcan innocence, asked, "Do you mind if I join you, gentlemen?"

And McCoy just totally lost it. To the accompaniment of continued captainly splutters and tolerant almost-smiles from a more-than-slightly-amused Vulcan, he leaned back in his chair and laughed til the tears rolled down his face. Hot damn, but sometimes, life was just plain good!