Archive of Our Own ^beta

Spock is whimpering in his sleep again.

Pon farr is rough on all of them, Spock most of all. Being horny all the time starts becoming torture after a while, especially after he's been fucked for so long his sheath his raw and sensitive, and he still needs to cum.

Kirk and McCoy have done what they can, keeping Spock's quarters clean and stocked with water and small amounts of food, and taking the occasional neurostimulant to keep up with his ungodly sex drive. There's about an hour or so window between orgasms that lets them replenish their energy and for Spock to collect himself, so it isn't all bad. This strategy had worked for the first day and a half, but now that they're in the worst of it, Kirk and McCoy are having to take the nights in shifts.

Even Kirk, who had gotten a little starry-eyed at the idea of a four day sex marathon, is sleeping it off in his quarters, leaving McCoy to deal with a completely insatiable Spock. Not that it's his fault, and not that McCoy hasn't signed up for this anyway. Still, he winces in sympathy as Spock's eyebrows start hitching up his forehead, the way they do when he's aroused, and his hips shift minutely beneath the sheets. "Lights to forty percent," he orders the computer. The room brightens slightly with a dim glow.

They're both already naked. Neither of them has had a stitch of clothing on since two days ago, and they won't for at least another twenty-four hours. There's no point, really. He reaches an arm over and slides his hand down Spock's chest, gently cupping his sopping sheath, slick with Spock's own fluids and Kirk's cum.

"Need another one, darlin'?" he murmurs, not that he expects Spock to answer. He does, however, press his sheath harder against McCoy's palm and with him in this state, that's a good a yes as any.

Kissing the curve of a pointed ear, he rolls Spock onto his back and takes his time marking up the skin of his neck. This is for nobody but himself, since Spock is hardly awake to fully appreciate it. The sight of the faint green marks sends a possessive thrill through him and the way Spock pants just a little when he bites the junction of his neck and shoulder has his dick halfway hard already.

Two fingers sink into Spock's sheath with ease, a little jolt running through his body at the sensation of being filled. His fra'als, which have been everted since the beginning of his pon farr, twine lazily around McCoy's wrist and knuckles. When he begins to thrust, however, they take an interest, tugging his hand closer. He's so wet, and the sound echoes obscenely in the nearly silent room.

Damn Spock's sensitive hearing because he surfaces from the light trance he'd fallen into and croaks, "Leonard?" His name tapers out on a whine as McCoy traces the underside of his lok, still partially sheathed.

"I'm here, Spock," he says, briefly surging up the length of the bed to kiss him. Spock doesn't really have the energy to kiss back, but he makes a pleased sound against McCoy's lips all the same. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

Spock's body gives a half-hearted shudder, either at the pet name or the fingers still moving inside him. "Need you," he mumbles, head lolling on the pillow. "Inside me, ashaya, please."

"Begging already?" McCoy can't help but tease. He drops his mouth to one of Spock's nipples just to hear him moan when he laves a tongue over it. "Shh, don't worry. I've got you." He pulls his dripping fingers out, using them to slick up his cock. He might be a bastard for the way he rubs the head up against the lips of Spock's sheath for a few moments, but he can't help it. Spock whines so pretty.

"Please… Please…"

"I know, darlin'. I know." He presses inside slowly, savoring the tight slide and the heat of Spock's cunt. Spock's legs twitch on either side of him, like he wants to bring them up and wrap them around McCoy's hips. He's just so damn tired. Something close to a sob leaves his throat when McCoy bottoms out. "Shh, there we go. Relax. Nothing to do but lie there and look pretty." He pets along Spock's sides and stomach, knowing that Spock loves the feeling of his hands all over him.

"Yes," Spock hisses, eyes falling shut. McCoy grabs a fistful of his hair and tuts.

"Uh uh, eyes on me." He tugs until Spock's eyes flutter open. McCoy almost gives in; he looks exhausted, but he knows if he doesn't draw it out, Spock will be awake again far too soon. "Cum for me, baby. Then you can go to sleep."

Spock shakes his head. It's less of a shake and more of a weak loll from side to side. "Tired," he complains. His fra'als squirm against where their hips are connected, sending sparks of hazy arousal straight through McCoy's brainstem, and he has to focus on not losing it right then and there.

"Just once, you can do it. I'll let you warm my cock while you sleep right after." For not entirely altruistic purposes, he snaps his hips forward, and Spock groans. "It's logical, wouldn't you say?"

He rolls a green nipple between his fingers before tweaking it slightly to make Spock clench and shudder back to basic awareness. "You will… be here after?"

McCoy leaves his chest alone and presses one of their hands together, twining their fingers. "Promise." Spock's throat bobs on a swallow.

"Very well." He sounds half asleep again.

To remedy this, McCoy pulls back and thrusts in sharply, not as hard as he typically would, but enough to take the edge off of sleep. Spock makes a beautiful little sound about it, so he does it again. Most people would be offended if their partner was drifting off in the middle of sex; McCoy doesn't mind in the slightest. Beyond the sympathy over the physical strain, Spock is so gorgeous like this. He's limp and pliant in ways that he rarely ever allows himself to be, even when he and Kirk have been working him over for ages. There's nothing he can do to stop the punched out ah ah ahs he makes when McCoy grabs his hips and fucks him harder, or the way his eyes roll back in his head when McCoy does something particularly innovative with his fra'als.

During pon farr, his lok doesn't evert fully, swelling only enough for the head to rest just outside the sheath. He'd cum all over himself the first time Kirk swiped a rough thumb over it and called it a 'pretty little clit', so McCoy takes that as his cue and does the same thing, cooing when each pass of his thumb makes Spock tense up and shudder. He chokes on a moan when McCoy spits on his fingers and rubs tight circles across the tip.

"Oh!" He sounds almost surprised, and his whole body shakes with his gasp. "Oh— oh—"

"Yeah?" McCoy fucks him a little faster as a reward, folding his legs up towards his chest. It's to everyone's benefit that Spock is ridiculously bendy. "You gonna make a mess for me, darlin'?"

"I— Oh, again! Please!"

He pulls back to spit directly on Spock's lok this time, which makes him shake. As he does, his fra'als lurch forward to wrap around his cock, squeezing gently. Through his own shaky gasp of pleasure, he grins and thrusts back inside too fast for the fra'als to disentangle themselves. Spock wails at the sensation of his own fra'als writhing around inside him, along with the delicious stretch of McCoy's cock.

He's not even forming words at this point, just incoherent babbling, so McCoy sits there for a moment, letting both of them adjust. With some delight, he notices Spock is drooling ever so slightly. "Poor thing," he murmurs with mock pity. "You needed it this bad?" He grinds his hips in a lazy circle, and Spock's mouth drops open on a broken moan.

"Y-Yes— I— I'm going to—" Normally, he'd be covering his mouth at this point, and while that's always a favorable outcome, McCoy loves how he can hear every gasp for air, every hitch in his throat as he tries to bring his brain back online. "I'm almost— Leonard!"

McCoy figures he's tortured him long enough. "Alright, I hear you." To make him squirm just a little more, McCoy gets his large hands around Spock's back and presses down hard on the area above his chenesi. The friction of their previous rhythm would be too harsh on his fra'als, so instead, he keeps his hips more or less steady and presses back and forth in a grind, just enough to give Spock the sensation of being filled and fucked. It's enough, if the progressive arch of his back is anything to go by.

Spock's hand flails on the bed, seeking one of McCoy's. He obliges, putting his palm to the back of Spock's and bringing their joined hands down to the lower part of his stomach. He presses down, forcing another weak moan from Spock's mouth. "You feel that?" he asks. "Can you feel me?" Spock nods frantically. "You're going to cum like this, aren't you? Just from this and nothing else. Of course you are. Desperate whore like yourself, it's enough, isn't it?"

"I'm not a—" Even half asleep and fucked stupid, he can't help it. McCoy rolls his eyes affectionately.

"Please, spare me your false modesty. You were begging to have it in both ends not that long ago." There's spit on the pillow. He makes a mental note of that for later. "Wore Jim clean out, too. That takes some doing."

Spock is right on the edge; he can tell by the way his free hand is scrabbling against the mattress and his cunt is spasming around him. He grunts, trying to stave off his own climax and disentangles their fingers so he can press his index inside Spock's sheath. He damn near howls at the stretch.

"When he wakes up again," he says, voice low and full of dirty promise, "We'll get both of us inside you. Right here." He tucks his middle finger in beside his index, and Spock is gone, crying out his name so loud he swears it'll wake Kirk halfway down the hall.

He keeps rolling his hips as he pulls his fingers out, not wanting to change the sensation too much, and gently fucks him through the aftershocks. Spock whimpers as he does, looking down the length of his body with eyes so hooded they might as well be shut. McCoy smiles fondly down at him and presses a kiss to his forehead.

"You did so well for me, sweetheart," he soothes. "Go to sleep now. It's okay, I promise."

Spock's jaw has to work a few times before he's able to produce anything remotely similar to speech. "Thank you, ashaya." He smears his thanks all over the pillow as McCoy gently rolls him onto his side, snuggling up behind him. He pulls out of Spock to allow his fra'als some breathing room, shushing him and hurriedly pressing back inside when Spock starts to whine.

"Sleep," he says again. Spock doesn't argue and drifts off without another word.

True to his word, McCoy stays put, wrapping himself around his back like an octopus. 

He's always been a cuddler, and this only gives him more of an excuse. Now that Spock's fra'als aren't blasting him with psi energy, the urge to rut into his partner like an animal subsides, and he's content to lie there and warm his cock, occasionally shifting back and forth when he feels like he needs the friction. It's a nice change of pace from the frantic energy of the last few days. Briefly, he thinks about pushing Spock's knees up and lazily fucking him until he can spill inside his sheath, but dismisses the idea almost as soon as it crosses his mind. Spock isn't awake to appreciate it (they've been around the block enough times for McCoy to know exactly what Spock sounds like when he's begging for it to be dripping out of him, and who is he to deny himself that pleasure?), and he's no spring chicken either. Trying to get it up again if Spock wakes before Jim holds little appeal.

No, for now, he's perfectly happy just the way they are, basking in the sensation of Spock's afterglow and his own simmering arousal. He presses a kiss to the back of Spock's neck and sighs, closing his eyes. He forgets to dim the lights before he's drifting off to sleep too.