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McCoy was not pleased to be sharing a room with Spock. It wasn't that they lacked funds, of course; it was more to do with the fact that the entire planet only possessed the one hotel. Now if that wasn't just the ultimate backwater, Leonard didn't know what was. He hoped to God that this was the last time they stayed on a planet with less than 10,000 colonists, but he wasn't an optimist.
Spock, true to form, had left the three-years-in-space party more than an hour ago, leaving Leonard to find his way, moderately drunk, back to their room alone. At least, or so he thought, he could be guaranteed to get a good night's sleep before he had to cure Jim's newest and coolest STI in the morning.
But when he got to the door and keyed in the code, he found he had no such luck.
It slid open to reveal Spock standing a mere six inches from the other side of the panel, and McCoy found himself whisked inside the room.
“What the--” He was cut off by lips pressing over his in a sloppy and entirely un-Spock-like kiss. Spock was cooler than he'd (illogically, given that McCoy had his info on file) expected, but not unpleasantly so. His taste was sweet and rich.
For several seconds, Leonard simply stood and allowed the wet, one sided make-out session to continue. Then he stepped back suddenly, as far as his shoulders slamming into the door would allow, shoving Spock away. “What the fuck?”
Spock recoiled with minimal resistance, as though he had not just attempted to kiss his fellow officer and been repelled. “I see you have finally come to keep me company.”
McCoy slid away down the wall several steps. “I think you're mistakin' me for a call girl...”
Spock looked only mildly interested. “I had not been aware that you did sex work “on the side”; do you do it for enjoyment or does Starfleet Medical pay considerably less than expected?”
Leonard carried on slinking backwards, but it seemed that for every inch he put between them, Spock crept forward two. “Seriously Spock? Are you sick?”
Spock reached out, snagging McCoy's wrist and holding it loosely. The motion clashed with his predatory gaze. “I feel strange.”
Leonard continued his retreat as he looked over the Vulcan; a bit flushed, perhaps, something Leonard might have missed before due to his bias towards red over green. Pupils a little dilated. Spock's last Pon farr had been just over a year ago; McCoy prayed it was too soon for even Spock's weird hybrid physiology to have cycled all the way through again. “You, ah, eat or drink any strange foods?” He asked, clutching at straws. Spock was far too logical to go around eating unknown produce.
“On the bed were some unmarked foil wrapped confections,” Spock stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. “I liberated them of their packaging and found them to be quite pleasant.”
Leonard heaved a sigh of relief. “D'you think it could've just been chocolate?”
“Yes.” Spock stepped forward again, straight into the centre of his personal space. “Perhaps I could liberate you of your packaging, Doctor. I am curious as to your precise taste, also.”
“Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea.” McCoy gulped. He made the mistake of glancing down at the conspicuous bulge in Spock's pants. That settles the question of what kind of drunk Spock is. “You'll be soberin' up in a minute, if you only ate one or two o'those little hotel chocolates.”
“No.” Spock shook his head.
“No?” Leonard squeaked as Spock took one last step forward and rubbed his clothed erection against his groin. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to react.
“No,” Spock confirmed. “Initially I did not experience any ill effects of the chocolate, and so as a scientist it was logical to pursue my research further.”
Going out on a limb, McCoy put a hand on Spock's hip and used it to force a few inches between them. “What you're really saying is you've got a sweet tooth and you went and ate a whole bar? How much did you have?”
Miraculously, Spock stepped aside, out of McCoy's bubble. Unfortunately, he did so to reveal the sort of debris Leonard had accumulated after his first girlfriend had dumped him at the age of thirteen. “I sampled a range of items from the miniature bar.”
“Spock! You've eaten half a pound of chocolate!” He berated automatically, eyes wide on the empty box and the wrappers of various other candy that Leonard was sure was aimed at a considerably younger chocoholic.
“I am not familiar with imperial measurements, Doctor. Do you consider that excessive?” Spock was inches from him again, breathing that warm, sweet breath onto his cheek.
“Everyone considers that excessive!” His attempt at scaring Spock off wasn't working. “You'll give yourself a heart attack! Or an addiction!”
The Vulcan's lips merely twitched at his anger. “I have been bad,” He said.
Leonard's dick also twitched, despite his best efforts in preventing it from doing so. “Yeah, and as punishment you're going to bed early. And alone,” He clarified.
“Perhaps instead you might consider a different kind of discipline?” Spock's member bumped his again, sending a lazy, willing feeling to the pit of his stomach.
He ignored it. “Not unless you mean a night in the brig, also alone, or a week on proscribed leave!”
“Vulcans do not have a prostate, Doctor,” Spock told him earnestly. Well. Talk about a change of subject. Spock clearly did not mean to let him forget his intentions.
McCoy gulped; it seemed like a pretty good excuse to not fuck Spock. “Unlucky for you.”
Spock shook his head. “Not me. My mother gave me one.”
Leonard pressed himself against the wall as hard as possible, but Spock's pre-cum was still seeping through his pants. “How considerate of her.”
“Regular emissions have been shown to help maintain prostate health,” Spock continued, grinding his hips once as though McCoy had said nothing at all. “Would you consider doing so?”
“I emit plenty regularly!” He barked back, aroused and panicked. “Certainly more that you possibly can with pick up lines like that!”
“I do not need to “pick you up”,” Spock murmured, lips hovering close. “I have already ascertained your desire for me.”
“Oh yeah?” Leonard's voice shuddered. His whole body shuddered. “I'm drunk, you can't go by... Whatever this is.”
Spock placed a hand on McCoy's chest, above where his heart hammered against his ribs, resting it there for a moment, before running it down to lie over his cock. “You flirt with me. Do not deny it.”
Leonard groaned as Spock palmed him through his pants. “No...”
“No, you wish me to stop, or no, you do not deny flirting with me. And desiring me?” Spock asked, feeling for the head of Leonard's penis through his clothes.
“I don't-- Deny it.” He huffed. But still he pushed the hand away, unwilling to take advantage. “You're drunk.”
“You are also inebriated,” Spock let the hand fall, but thrust forward with his hips to replace it. “You consume... An average... Of five point six alcoholic beverages per event such as this.”
“Yeah, but,” Leonard panted as Spock's ground rhythmically against him. “I'm not that... Drunk tonight and it wasn't... Wasn't my first time...”
“Be quiet and kiss me.” Spock ordered, and how was Leonard to disobey his superior officer?
Their lips met, a little less sloppy and a little more needy than before. McCoy spread his legs wide, letting Spock's weight pin him up against the wall as he fucked him into it through his dress uniform.
Deft fingers unzipped his fly and tugged his cock out, Spock squirming until he had both of their members held tight together in his hand.
The head of Spock's penis was a curious shade of purple and green, as though iridescent colours fought to be noticed beneath the tight, smooth skin. It leaked an obscene quantity of pre-cum, which Spock smeared over his palm and both their cocks, slick and sticky and exactly the kind of thing that a sober Leonard would have sent him packing off to medical for. That would have to come later.
Spock lent in to lick and nibble at his lips as his hand sped up and their cocks slipped against each other, McCoy's growing impossibly hard as it strained to be tip-to-tip, as though the liquid spilling out of Spock was water in a desert.
Leonard's hips bucked of their own accord and he sucked the lingering taste of chocolate out of Spock's mouth. “Fuck! Spock!” He hissed, twisting convulsively and coming into his far too willing adversary's hand.
Spock moaned deep in his throat, transferring Leonard's semen to the tip of his own dick with his thumb. It seemed to have the same effect that Spock's pre-ejaculate had had on the human, and Spock's head landed heavily onto his shoulder as he carried on pumping at his member and over stimulating McCoy's softening penis.
Spock nuzzled into his neck for a moment, smelling him, and then bit down hard just above his collar bone with a whimper.
Milky white Vulcan cum mixed with Leonard's between their writhing bodies, and they both slumped down the wall, softening members gripped too hard in Spock's gorgeous, trembling hand.
Spock pressed one last, breathless kiss to his mouth. “I wish for us to wear our scent this evening, and then we might bathe together in the morning.”
McCoy nodded sleepily. “Only if you'll carry me to the bed.”
Leonard awoke groggy, but not so groggy as to forget or even truly justify waking up naked save for semen next to Spock.
He groaned, not nearly so enthusiastically as he had the night before, and slid out of the bed, leaving Spock looking tousled, but altogether far too dignified for the recent goings on, and went to relieve himself in the en suite.
His pubic and lower belly hair was matted with dried cum, and really he ought to have washed it out there and then, but something turned him back into the main room to clean it up first. His uniform and Spock's were discarded as a scattering of individual garments, and he took the time to fold those that were salvageable and leave those things that were not out to be washed.
Spock slept peacefully on, apparently purging the chocolate from his system. McCoy couldn't tell if this was good or bad, and the fact that he didn't consider Spock's continued ignorance of the events a good thing bothered him almost as much as what had happened in the first place.
Then he went to clear away the evidence of Spock's pre-teen dinner the night before.
“You gotta be kidding me!” He said too loudly.
He held his breath, waiting to see if Spock would wake up, and just as he was about to carry on with his chores, a voice slurred slightly with sleep behind him. “I would never attempt to do so.”
“Oh yeah?” Leonard demanded, turning through the rubbish. “Cos it looks to me like you were last night.”
There was another moment of silence. “Explain.”
“Well Mr Spock,” McCoy turned to face him, holding up a wrapper demonstratively. “Did you happen to know that white chocolate contains no cocoa solids whatsoever?”
Spock was sitting up in the bed, looking his special brand of nothing that translated to alarm to any who knew him well enough. “...I was not.”
Leonard smirked with triumph and a little of the petty cruelty Spock seemed to bring out in him. “Most of this stuff was chocolate free! You weren't that goddamn drunk! You can't even have been on the equivalent of a fourth drink last night! You had me fooled into believin' you were trashed!”
Without moving a muscle, Spock seemed to take up less and less space in the bed. “I... I...”
If Spock had been green the night before, now he could put a herb garden to shame.
For some reason his mortification did not give McCoy the kind of pleasure it usually did. The smirk fell off his face. “Aww, hey now, Spock... That's not... Did you enjoy it is what counts...?”
“I... Apologise...” Spock looked humiliated and like nothing at all. His mouth worked without his throat and a few voiceless words hung on his lips before it became too much for Leonard to bear.
“Oh hell, Spock. D'you... D'you wanna shower? We could both use some cleanin' up.” He asked uncomfortably. “You know. Together?”
Spock's voice returned to him, although if McCoy had not known the reason for his slight croak, he might have prescribed some kind of throat medication. “...If you are amenable.”
Leonard smiled, shoving the last of Spock's sugar binge into the trash and offering him a hand. “It would be a shame for shore leave to end and me not know anything more about that unique Vulcan-human prostate thing you got goin' on.”
Spock flushed to the ears, but the blankness of his features lacked the misery of minutes before. “Whilst your own biology might be quite unremarkable, I am sure we will both find mine worthy of further study.”
McCoy scoffed. “Green-blooded asshole.”
Spock accepted his hand up and stood naked from the bed, unaffected by the insult. “You may view that as well, since it is the only convenient aperture through which to find out more about the prostate you so long to know.”
Leonard thinks he can deal with that.