CMO Leonard McCoy woke with a start. The emergency alarm above his bed was ringing furiously. Wasn't there anyone on duty? "McCoy here," he managed, half asleep.

"Doctor, Spock here." The familiar deep voice sounded faint. McCoy sat up straight.

"What's the matter, Spock?" Worried, he cocked his head, listening to the message.

"I am uncertain, Doctor. I believe I need medical assistance. Could you come to my quarters. Please?" Spock's voice was fading away and McCoy quickly slipped into his uniform and grabbed his emergency medical kit off the bedside stand.

"I'll be there as fast as I can. Hold on, Spock!" Deeply concerned, the doctor rushed out of his room and down the hallway towards the First Officer's quarters. It had to be something very serious to make Spock call him in the middle of the night. He had a hell of a job getting that stubborn Vulcan into sickbay at the best of times!

Within no more than a minute, which felt like hours to McCoy, he arrived at the Vulcan's quarters and used his emergency lock-out code on the door.

Once inside, he stopped dead, unable to make out anything in the darkness of the room. And then he realized that it was he who was slowly sinking into darkness and out of consciousness...

Leonard McCoy opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the tall figure of the Vulcan standing in front of him. "What happened?" McCoy stammered. And then he remembered why he had come here. "Spock, are you alright?"

"Perfectly, Doctor." The Vulcan certainly did not appear in need of medical aid. Quite the opposite, he seemed the picture of good health, as far as McCoy could tell in the minuscule lighting, consisting of nothing more than half a dozen candles.

"Then why...?" McCoy was going to reach for his medical kit, still not entirely back to his usual self, but he discovered he could not.

"Spock!" His arms were stretched out at his side, his hands tied to the room divider in the Vulcan's quarters. Leather straps were wound around his wrists, pinning him to the lattice pattern of the metal screen. He grasped with a single glance that under no circumstances would he be able to free himself. Not without the Vulcan's help. What was happening here?

"Now, Spock? What is this?" McCoy started out with diplomacy and a smile. "I didn't realize you had such a bizarre sense of humor. Well, you can untie me now."

"Ah, now that is the first misconception on your behalf that we will deal with tonight, Doctor." Spock stepped in front of the man who was, apparently, his prisoner.

McCoy gasped audibly. "Spock?" He instinctively tried to pull backwards, but there was nowhere he could go. The Vulcan stepped out of a shadow, his face now lit by the dim glow of the candles placed on large holders along the wall, and stood staring at McCoy. His eyes looked furious, blacker than usually. The warm candle-light didn't quite betray the expression of anger in his face, and the doctor hardly dared to contemplate that it was directed at him. The fact that he was tied up here like this made it uncomfortably clear.

"Please tell me what's going on, Spock. You're scaring me." McCoy's attempt at humor did little more than convey his fear in that trembling voice.

"You scare easily, Doctor." Spock lifted one hand, and just as the human thought he was about to strike him, the hand settled against his chest.

"I would estimate your heart rate to be at approximately 50 % above normal." The hand disappeared again and Spock stood back, merely gazing at his prisoner.

That was when McCoy finally looked at the Vulcan fully. He wasn't in his usual Starfleet uniform. His feet were bare and he wore a pair of tight black suede trousers. A black shirt, made of silk, fell open at his chest. None of the buttons were done up. Insanely, the doctor found himself wondering whether the Vulcan was indeed wearing anything at all besides those two items...

McCoy closed his eyes briefly. It must have been the musky incense steaming from the clay pot by the bedside... Yet McCoy could have sworn it was the Vulcan's own skin that exuded the fragrance. Intoxicated, the doctor desperately tried to focus his eyes.

"Spock, please explain this to me," McCoy pleaded.

"All in good time, Doctor. I will, however, tell you one thing." The Vulcan paced up and down in front of the human.

"Yes?"

"You are here because I have decided that it was time to teach you a lesson."

McCoy tried to concentrate. Hard. "What kind of a lesson?"

"That will become clear shortly, Doctor." Spock stopped in front of McCoy. He stood, hardly breathing, looking into the human's bright blue eyes. When the doctor thought he couldn't stand that stare any longer, he opened his mouth to speak. The Vulcan's left hand instantly covered it.

"If I want you to talk, I will ask you a question. Do you understand?" Spock's voice sounded even deeper and fuller than usually. It was almost as if a different Spock was talking, which only served to make the situation more bizarre. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Trembling, McCoy nodded.

"Good. My first question is, why are you here?" The hand left the mouth it had covered and McCoy took a quick breath of air.

"Because you called me, Spock. I thought you were in trouble. It turns out, I am." Regretting it the moment he said it, McCoy bit his lip. The way Spock was acting, he wouldn't put it past him to punish him for that comment.

Unexpectedly, Spock reacted with an almost-smile. But it vanished in an instant. "Let me re-phrase. Why did you not send the on-duty medical team?"

"I was worried about you. I didn't want to delay. You don't call for medical help unless you're in a whole lot of trouble."

"I see." The Vulcan's face remained stern as he moved closer to McCoy. Standing no more than inches away from him, he asked, "How desperately do you want to know why you are here, Doctor?"

"I don't understand," McCoy stated truthfully.

"What would you do in exchange for me telling you the reason?"

"Look, Spock. Stop playing games with me! You've got me shaking in my boots, dammit." That was not entirely untrue. Yet it seemed to amuse the Vulcan.

"What you need is some of that human warmth and comfort, which you do not believe other species are able to give. Is that right, Doctor?" Spock was now standing almost nose to nose with the medical officer, who hardly dared to breathe.

The Vulcan continued, "If I remember correctly, you pointed out to me once that I would not know what to do with a genuine warm, decent feeling. Do you remember saying that, McCoy?"

"I... may have."

"You did," the Vulcan stated coldly.

"I didn't mean anything by it. Is that what this is all about?" McCoy slowly felt his hands losing circulation. He was beginning to get annoyed.

"Why do you say things you do not actually mean?"

"I don't know." McCoy was exasperated. "It's... a human thing."

"Just as a warm, decent feeling is?" Spock's piercing gaze made McCoy shiver.

"Well, no.. I didn't mean... oh, you... VULCAN!" The doctor burst into one of his tantrums he was prone to whenever the Vulcan was more than he could handle.

"You do insist on pointing out that I am a Vulcan, Doctor. Just why is that supposed to be offensive to me? You are merely stating a fact."

McCoy didn't know what to say.

The Vulcan continued. "But back to that warm, decent feeling. You have not yet answered my question." Looking insistent enough for the doctor to worry, Spock raised his right hand.

"Don't hit me, Spock, please." McCoy shrank back as far as he could, which wasn't very far considering the tight cuffs.

"I do not want to hurt you, Doctor. And since you will not answer me, let me show you that I am capable of a warm, decent feeling." And then the Vulcan lowered his hand to the side of McCoy's face, stroking gently over his cheek, down the side of his neck and over his shoulders.

"Spock, you don't have to prove anything, I...," McCoy's voice broke off when he felt the Vulcan's hands slip behind his back, pulling his torso forward and against that heated body dressed in such sensual costume.

"You were saying?" That voice, so close now. McCoy had to close his eyes to try and keep the dizziness in check. He had to be dreaming all this. This wasn't Spock. Not the Spock he knew. Some kind of alien, well, some kind of hostile alien, masquerading as Spock. Yes, that was it! But the idea never passed his lips, because all his faculties were engaged in continuing to breathe with the Vulcan pressed against him like this.

"Doctor, you believe I am trying to prove something. Then let me ask you this - is the evidence presented conclusively?" Oh, that deep, low murmur...

"Evidence?" McCoy whimpered. Then he pulled himself together and almost spat out, "You call this evidence for a warm feeling? You have no idea you..."

The Vulcan's hot mouth sealed his, suffocating any accusation that might have escaped.

Sinking, falling into a bottomless pit, doused with arousal, McCoy felt himself sagging in his restraints. Neither that touch nor his own irrational reaction to it were what he had expected. And as soon as he came to that conclusion, the moment had passed. Spock was once again standing back from him. As if that kiss had never happened.

"Green-blooded son of a...? That is what you were going to say, is it not?" The Vulcan said it calmly, in a completely inappropriate soft tone.

When McCoy didn't reply, he continued, "And what about my green blood scares you so, McCoy?" And with those words, the Vulcan retrieved something from behind his back. Something he had kept stuck in the waistband of his suede pants. It was a knife, a small, delicate, silver knife.

"My god, Spock! NO!" McCoy thought he was screaming, but what he actually said amounted to hardly more than a whisper. Was that a conscious thing? He had no time to contemplate the thought, because the Vulcan stepped right up in front of him again, lifting the knife to his neck. A heartbeat. A frantic blink of an eye.

The knife sliced into the blue medical tunic, cutting from the collar down to the top of the black trousers, slicing it in half. And then, the hand holding the knife went to McCoy's right hand, slicing again, the whole length of the sleeve, repeating the procedure on the other sleeve.

In a ragged top, McCoy hung there, scared and excited beyond his own understanding. How could he let this arouse him so?

And then he knew instinctively what would happen next. He wasn't surprised, or even scared, when the knife was lifted to his right hand and a tiny incision made. Hardly enough to even produce a single drop of blood.

"Spock, please..." McCoy's voice had become dry and tired. He felt as if he'd just spent weeks in the desert.

"Do not beg me, Doctor. You may find your wishes fulfilled all too soon." The Vulcan turned the knife in his palm and slit across his own left hand, and a few drops of green blood welled forth.

"It is not so different, is it, Doctor?" When the human shook his head carefully, Spock almost smiled. And then he pressed his hand to the doctor's, letting their blood mingle.

"Uh!" The sound had escaped before McCoy could hold it back. His eyes followed wearily as Spock replaced his hand with his mouth, and he trembled when he felt that hot alien tongue flicking over the tiny wound. McCoy felt he was being branded. That searing touch seemed to have planted a flame beneath his skin.

"It does not taste very different from my own. Would you like to try, Doctor?"

The Vulcan gazed at his captive, a challenge in his eyes, and to McCoy's own surprise, the human found himself nodding eagerly. What was this creature doing to him?

Spock lifted his cut hand to the human's lips, and an eager tongue shot out, licking and drinking the sweet and coppery-tasting green blood.

"Do you agree, McCoy, that it is not a difference between our species large enough to continually hold against me?" Spock cocked his head, and looked deeply satisfied when the doctor nodded.

"Good. Which brings us to the next point. You like to ridicule my pointed ears. Would you care to comment?"

"I'm sorry, Spock. About all the things I've said. Please let me go." McCoy felt himself straining against the Vulcan's willpower. And to make matters worse, against his own also.

"Not yet, Doctor. We have not eliminated our cultural differences - or rather the acceptance of the same - to a mutually satisfying extent."

"Your ears... they're just different. Look, I don't have anything against them." Unsure whether that was a wrong or right thing to say, McCoy awaited the reaction with baited breath.

"I *am* gratified, Doctor. In fact, I have - at times - had the impression that you found them rather... fascinating?" It was a rhetorical question and both of them knew it.

"Yes, alright. I admit it. Now, will you please let me out of this dungeon of yours, Spock?"

"That was not convincing enough, Doctor. Tell me, would you like to touch my ears?"

McCoy swallowed hard. He was scared, mesmerized, tempted and excited, and he hoped to every deity in the universe that Spock wouldn't guess any of those emotions.

The Vulcan proceeded, ignoring the medical officer's quiet discomfort. "Would you like to feel their texture? Explore the skin? *Taste* them, maybe?" As the word 'taste' left Spock's lips, it was with such gusto, such passion, that McCoy could not deny it as much as he tried.

"YES! Yes, Spock. Please...," he heard himself pleading. And the Vulcan stood up against him, turning that handsome classical profile towards McCoy, within easy reach. If only the doctor's hands weren't tied... A flick of the tongue up the elegant curve of that pale ear, the skin glowing in the faint light of the candles, and then it disappeared out of reach again.

"Spock!" McCoy was desperate now, wanted to touch, to lick, to kiss those ears. He felt like he couldn't bear to be so far away again after that brief, intoxicating contact.

"Yes?"

"Please, Spock, I'm so sorry. I never meant to offend you about those ears and all. They are... beautiful."

"I understand. You are trying to make me release you." The Vulcan stated in a strangely dull tone, strutting away and towards the bed, dropping the knife on it.

McCoy merely shook his head wearily. He had meant every word.

"...but I won't. Not yet."

McCoy sighed. And he realized he really didn't want to leave. He watched the Vulcan who seemed deep in thought. He watched the warm glow of that skin peeking out from in between the folds of the silk. He watched those narrow, smooth and elegant feet. And then he looked up at that face again. He knew he loved that face. Would it be safe to tell him?

"Doctor, I must admit that I myself find those differences between our species very interesting. For example, I am fascinated by these..." The Vulcan walked back to his prisoner, raising one hand to the doctor's left ear, stroking it with one fingertip, before moving forward swiftly, pressing his lips against the strangely rounded curve.

"Oh!" McCoy's entire body trembled at the touch. So sudden, so unexpected. So deeply erotic.

"You like this." The Vulcan whispered into the cool, human ear. It wasn't a question, but a fact. He knew from the shivering, the tiny goosebumps on the doctor's skin against his that he did... like it.

"Yes..." A whimper, nothing more.

"Do you want more? Do you want me to touch you, Doctor? Would it excite you to feel an alien touch on your bare skin?" Spock's deep voice rasped through McCoy's aural passages.

"Please touch me, Spock, please!" McCoy abandoned any pretense, any sarcasm he had always been able to use so effectively against the Vulcan's superior intelligence. He was at the alien's mercy. Just as he had always longed to be. Secretly.

"Leonard!" Spock breathed into the other's ear, and then he kissed it once more before moving over the neck and up over the other's cheek, leaving a trail of soft kisses behind. He felt the rising in McCoy's groin, felt it pressing against him. Just a little more... almost... his lips closed over the human's mouth, and eagerly, desperately, his kiss was returned with voracious need... And he withdrew, stood back, leaving a gasping, wanting McCoy hanging in his restraints, his need so clear to see in his shining eyes and straining erection.

"I want you, Spock! Any terms, anyway you'll have me!"

"You think you have sufficiently made up for all of your past insults?" Having already decided that the answer was clearly 'no', Spock did not await the reply. He continued teasing his victim. He found he greatly enjoyed his power.

"Is this what you want to do, Leonard?" His hands, those long-fingered hands rose to touch his own chest where his shirt was parted. Fingertips ran over slightly furred skin, moving aside the soft silk, revealing a hardened nipple, a beautiful dark red point in a milky sea of skin.

"Yeees..." McCoy tried again to tear away from his cuffs, but to no avail. He could smell the Vulcan's pheromones... dizzying him, making him want to sink to his knees in front of him.

"And what about this?" The Vulcan's hands smoothed over his firm stomach, down to his bellybutton and the thin trail of hair which started there.

Unable to even breathe, McCoy watched wide-eyed as those pale green hands opened the buttons of the suede trousers, curled around the edges of the material and pulled it back.

The candlelight seemed to flicker with excitement as the first curls of dark hair appeared between the parted fabric and then... then... those fingers moved to the opening of the garment, and simultaneously with McCoy's gasp, they slid underneath the suede, and Spock's head sank back and he moaned deeply. That sound of pure sensuality, pure eroticism, coming from the guarded Vulcan, nearly made McCoy spill himself into his own trousers. But he was too transfixed.

"Ah!" The Vulcan's hand moved inside his clothing as he was stroking and pleasuring himself. He seemed to have forgotten he wasn't alone. Or maybe he was merely overwhelmed by his own physical sensations.

"NO!" McCoy called out and Spock looked at him, his eyes wide with arousal, but curious.

"Leonard?" The breathy voice speaking his name sent a shiver down the doctor's back and right down to his feet.

"Let me, please!" he begged.

"Not yet. Maybe... later." And the Vulcan smiled. Smiled? Yes. He watched with immense delight the doctor's reaction when he pulled his skin-tight pants down over his hips, letting his cock spring free.

"Now, Spock, pleeeease!"

Spock ignored him. His burning eyes were fixed on the human's as he sat back on the bed, sank onto his back, his legs parted, his bare feet firmly on the ground.

McCoy couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

Spock's hands played with the dark curls above his sex and then his right hand moved down, closing around that long, narrow shaft which was pointing upwards like a marble column. Slowly, he began to pump his own cock, never taking his eyes off McCoy, whose erection was more pain than pleasure by then.

"I know you want this inside of you." Spock's voice, raspy with pleasure, raked over McCoy's raw body.

"Yes, Spock, please."

"You might yet get what you want, but not before I have finished." And the Vulcan sat upright again, his right hand stroking his cock while his left hand played with his balls. Slowly, his legs parted further, giving McCoy a full view of all his beauty.

Helplessly thrusting into thin air, McCoy considered closing his eyes, but he knew he couldn't. So he continued to stare, transfixed, by that beautiful vision of the sensual Vulcan pleasuring himself.

And then, Spock turned around, kneeling on the bed, his firm buttocks turned toward the desperate human, and he lowered himself onto the silk sheets and began to rub against them, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, until he began to moan.

"Spock..." McCoy's voice was a mere whisper now, pleading in desperation. And Spock heard him, and turned. He stood and walked close to the doctor, who gasped at the sight of that tiny drop of semen glistening on the tip of the Vulcan's penis.

"Yes, Leonard..." Spock stood right up against the human and before McCoy could brace himself, the Vulcan's erection was thrust against his own. McCoy groaned deeply.

"What is it you want, Leonard?"

A hot breath in his ear, the Vulcan's intoxicating smell, made more intense by his arousal... McCoy was close to tears. "You, Spock! I want you!"

"You want me.. what?" Spock moved up and down, rubbing himself against the helpless human.

"I want you to take me! Please! PLEASE!" McCoy nearly screamed it, and he knew the Vulcan would take pity on him. He couldn't be this cruel. Could he?

"Mm, Leonard, I have wanted to hear you beg like this for so long." Spock knelt before the doctor, who took in a deep breath, staring down at that silky, black hair.

Whatever would happen next, whatever the Vulcan would give to him, he was willing to sacrifice everything for it. All that time of fooling himself into believing he could resist this most sensual of creatures... No more!

The strain in his groin had become unbearable. He looked down, not daring to breathe, and then he saw that knife again.

"I will not hurt you, Leonard," Spock purred, and anyone would have believed him.

"I know, Spock. But I don't care anymore!"

McCoy looked on as the Vulcan raised the knife and placed it at the waistband of the black trousers, before holding it with one hand, the other holding the fabric, and he slowly cut a line down to the top of McCoy's left thigh.

That hardly-there touch of the slim fingers on his erection almost caused the doctor to come, just as he was being released from his confinement. But he held on, with great difficulty, gasping, careful not to move and get cut.

"You do need me, Leonard." Spock stated a fact, unemotionally.

"I do," McCoy whispered, and the Vulcan dropped the knife and freed the human's cock from the rags of clothing. He held it in one hand, looking up at McCoy, while the other was out of sight.

"What are you do...?" McCoy gasped as Spock's unseen hand slid underneath his buttocks, inside the shredded trousers and underwear, and lifted him. "Oh... god... yes!"

McCoy bit his teeth together as he felt Spock sliding into him, pushing him up until0 his feet hardly touched the floor anymore. And then he was lifted even higher by those deceptively graceful, strong hands under his backside, which were raising him clear off the ground as the Vulcan began to pound into him, causing no end of pain and pleasure, sliding that semen coated cock up his insides only to withdraw again and continue pounding him over and over.

"Leonard! Is this it? Is this what you want?" Spock growled, tirelessly continuing to thrust himself into the human, who was still tied by his wrists.

"Yes, oh YES!" McCoy screamed, feeling his orgasm approaching hand in hand with unconsciousness. And just when he thought he would black out, he was shaken by hot, intense tremors he had never known before, spilling himself over Spock's bare stomach.

Whimpering, he sank heavily down on the Vulcan's cock, which was still just as hard as it had been all along...

"I will release you, Leonard," Spock said softly, close to the human's ear, and he set him down again on wobbly and unstable legs.

"Mmm..." McCoy could hardly speak, let alone think, and he only half realized his hands were being untied. Rubbing his wrists, he tried to get his circulation back. Unsuccessfully.

"I believe I owe you some pampering," Spock said with a smirk as he took the doctor's hands in his and placed a few tiny kisses on the insides of his wrists. Paying special attention to the areas covered with red streaks, he ran his tongue over the clammy skin, licking and comforting his "victim".

"Spock, I..."

"I am sorry if I scared you at any point, Doctor."

McCoy managed a smile. "Oh? What happened to 'Leonard'?"

The Vulcan seemed unprepared for this. He looked deep into the shiny blue eyes and saw nothing that conveyed anger, fear or regret. Relieved, he smiled.

McCoy wasn't used to seeing that beautiful mouth curved in a warm smile. The emotions washing over him as he realized he was the cause of it were almost too much. He raised a tentative hand and touched the Vulcan's cheek. "I want to stay with you tonight, Spock. If you'll let me, that is."

Spock seemed surprised more than anything else. But he nodded, and placed his left hand over McCoy's, still resting on his face. He took that hand in his and lead the human to the bed. Silently, the Vulcan dropped his silk shirt to the ground and let the trousers follow, stepping out of what little clothing he wore as if it had never been there at all.

Then he undressed McCoy, gently pulling the shreds of clothing off his tortured and pleasured body. Once the human stood before him naked and vulnerable, he pulled back the sheets and lay down, pulling the doctor down with him, into his arms.

They lay silently for a long time, the Vulcan's arms cradling the still trembling human. "Are you alright, Leonard?" Spock was concerned that he may have gone too far.

"Yes, Spock. But you do have an unusual way to make your point." McCoy smiled in the darkened room.

"I had become exasperated with your persistence in our differences." Spock pulled the human back further, and his still unreleased erection poked against the other's backside.

"Well, there are some differences you can't deny." McCoy felt his arousal starting all over again.

"Indeed?"

"Yes. Your stamina for one thing. You're not even tired after all that."

Spock turned the human around in his arms as if he was merely a small package. And seeing the glow in those blue eyes, he knew what the doctor was playing at. "I believe you are not entirely exhausted yourself, Leonard."

"Well..." That familiar mischievous grin whisked over the doctor's lips.

"More?" Spock teased in an uncharacteristically childlike tone which got to McCoy on a basic emotional level.

"Um, yeah...?"

And the Vulcan pulled him close, capturing the dry lips with his own. His erection was pressing against the human's.

"Just hold me, Spock," the doctor whispered. "And love me, gently this time."

"Yes..." Spock's hands ran over the naked form beneath them, soothing where he had hurt before, touching tenderly where he had inflicted pain.

McCoy just lay back, relaxing into the touch, held so securely by those strong arms. He closed his eyes as the Vulcan's warm lips moved over his, touching softly, playing over his cheeks, his chin, his neck. To go from such frightening passion to such tenderness...

He sighed deeply as he felt Spock's movements becoming faster, ever so gently. The hardness rubbing against his own began to throb, taking on a life of its own, and his cock moved in reply, as if engaged in a gentle duel. When he heard the first sighs of pleasure and felt the first drops starting to leak onto him, he gave in to the wonderful intimacy of the moment and with a deep sigh he felt his own semen mix with the Vulcan's. Settling into each other's arms, they peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Early the next morning, McCoy awoke, still secure in his lover's arms. The Vulcan was already awake, watching him.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Leonard?"

"Just what do I have to say to you to make you use that cat o'nine tails?" McCoy smiled at the familiar face, snuggling up even tighter.

"I do believe that it might be too much for you at this point," Spock cautioned.

"Oh, come on! I'm not that fragile." McCoy grinned mischievously. "Besides, I do have access to the medical supplies."

"We shall see..." Spock stroked tenderly over the doctor's thick brown hair. McCoy murmured in reply and the Vulcan looked down at him. "Mint julep, Leonard?"

McCoy eagerly sat up and said mischievously, "Mm, yes... something green and refreshing."

Spock's lips curled in a smile and he went to get the drink, as well as some water for himself.

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave soon, Spock. My shift starts in an hour," McCoy said with regret as he took the first sip of his beverage.

"That is a pity, but I also have duties that await my attention." Spock had settled down again by McCoy's side and they just enjoyed each other's company for a few minutes.

After the doctor had finished dressing in a spare uniform retrieved from the Vulcan's closet, he turned and found Spock waiting for him. With his arms around the other's neck, he kissed him tenderly. "Same time next week?"

"Indeed."

And with a contenAt smile, the CMO left the First Officer's quarters.

THE END.