Lawful Obedience, Part Twenty-Four

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek, Spock-McCoy)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Bones plunked himself down on Spock's bunk. He pulled off his boots and then settled himself, cross-legged, in a seated position. Then he looked up expectantly at Spock.

But Spock did not seem inclined to talk yet…nor even to sit down. He was standing in front of his bunk, facing Bones, with his hands clasped behind his back. And he was staring at the floor with a furrowed brow.

Bones cocked his head at him. "Spock?" he prompted.

The Vulcan looked up at him. "I must explain the Pon Farr to you, Leonard."

McCoy had no idea what the alien words meant, but he could see that they held an uncomfortable significance for Spock. "What is—what is Pon Farr?"

Spock didn't answer. He turned instead and began pacing back and forth. McCoy raised his eyebrows at that—the Vulcan was nervous. No, not nervous. He was embarrassed. Spock was actually embarrassed!

Bones caught himself grinning. Spock was kind of cute when he was embarrassed.

"Leonard," Spock said at last as he stopped pacing and turned back to the doctor. "I have told you that Vulcan parents generally arrange marriages for their children quite early, by human standards. I was betrothed to T'Pring when I turned seven."

McCoy nodded.

"However—" Spock broke off and blushed. He seemed to be blushing everywhere—all the skin that Bones could see was turning greener and greener. If Spock were human, Bones would have thought he was about to faint or vomit or both.

Come to think of it, Bones wasn't sure that Spock wasn't about to faint or vomit. Poor guy—whatever this 'Pon Farr' was, he could scarcely stand to think about it, let alone talk about it.

Bones gave him a warm smile. "Come here, Spock," he ordered, patting the space on the bunk next to him.

Spock stared at him for a moment, but at length he obeyed. He sat down stiffly at McCoy's side. The doctor put a comforting arm around him.

"We don't have to talk about this now," Bones pointed out as he began to rub Spock's back.

But Spock shook his head. "You must—you must understand Pon Farr before we bond. And there is no reason to delay the discussion. It is just that—it is not something we usually discuss with off-worlders."

Bones continued to rub Spock's back, trying to put him at ease. "Ok," he agreed. "I take it this has something to do with a Vulcan marriage?"

Spock nodded, still blushing furiously.

"Does it have to do with the ceremony?" Bones asked gently.

"It—it is what leads up to the ceremony," Spock managed. "And it is the—it is the consummation."

"The consummation?" Bones repeated. "You mean it's the actual mating?"

The Vulcan sprang off the bunk and walked across the room, turning his back to the doctor. Bones could see him trying to steady himself. He seemed mortified, ashamed and disconcerted all at once.

McCoy stood up, crossed the room and stepped up behind him. He put his arms around the Vulcan, resting his head on Spock's shoulder as he pulled him close.

"Tell you what," he said softly. "Why don't you come back over to the bunk and let me give you a massage. Maybe—maybe that'll help you relax and explain the matter."

But Spock shook his head. "I can discuss this rationally, Doctor," he insisted. "I do not require you to 'relax' me."

"The hell you don't," Bones muttered, pulling Spock even tighter against him. "Come on, you green-blooded hobgoblin. Don't you remember the first massage I gave you and how much better you felt afterward?"

The Vulcan fell silent at that. It must have been thirty seconds before he spoke up again. "Yes," he said at last. "I remember."

"It wasn't long after we first met," Bones said, reminiscing. "God, you couldn't stand me."

Spock let out an annoyed sigh. He wouldn't describe it that way of course—everyone knows that Vulcans don't get annoyed—but that's what it was. It was an annoyed sigh.

"As usual, Doctor, you exaggerate," he complained. "I did not feel any hostility toward you—I merely questioned your ability to relieve my pain in such a manner. I was, by your own admission, the first Vulcan you had ever treated."

"That's true," Bones owned. "And you used that as an excuse to forbid me from touching you. You were determined to suffer rather than to trust me."

Spock inhaled sharply again. "Doctor, we were nearly strangers to each other. And yet you had already managed to insult me. Moreover—"

"I didn't mean to insult you," Bones cut in. "And I tried to apologize but you wouldn't listen."

"Moreover," Spock continued, ignoring McCoy's interruption, "you are forgetting that I am sensitive to the emotions of those I have physical contact with—I did not wish to be overwhelmed by your illogical storm of feelings."

Bones responded by kissing his neck. "And what happened when I finally got you to lie down on the table, Spock?" he asked. "Did I overwhelm you with my emotions?"

There was another moment of silence. "No," Spock admitted. "You—you were quite professional, Leonard. And surprisingly competent."

"Well, I have my moments," Bones reminded him. "And I must have been effective. You allowed me to massage you a number of times afterward."

"As I said, Doctor, you did prove competent."

"Then let me massage you now," he persisted. "You know that it will relax you; you know you'll feel better afterward. Isn't it irrational to refuse?"

There was a smile in Spock's voice as he answered. "Your argument was similar when you gave me the first massage—you appealed to my logic."

"And it worked," Bones said. "Now please let me do this. Come on—get undressed and lie down on the bunk."

Spock hesitated, but then nodded. McCoy stepped back as the Vulcan removed his blue shirt and the black tee shirt he wore beneath it. Then he removed his boots and made his way to the bunk. Bones watched as he stretched out on it, face down.

The doctor smiled to himself. He had meant for Spock to get completely undressed—but Spock was suddenly just as shy as he had been that first time. No matter. He'd handle the Vulcan just as he had back then. He'd start with Spock's neck, shoulders and back. And then—if the Vulcan relaxed enough—he'd convince Spock to remove the rest of his clothing so that he could massage his whole body effectively. Not an erotic massage of course; he'd have to keep this professional for now.

Bones smiled again. Once they were bonded, though, he looked forward to introducing Spock to the pleasures of an erotic massage.

He sat down on the bunk, smiling down at Spock's back. He had trim, lean muscles—very attractive muscles, but you would never guess that he had three times a human's strength merely by looking at him. Bones began to knead those muscles gently, thinking back again to that first massage.

He had kept his mouth shut at first while he applied gentle pressure to the muscles in Spock's neck, except to ask Spock how the massage felt. He hadn’t wanted to risk saying the wrong thing again. Spock had lain there as stiff as a corpse, determined not to take any pleasure from the proceedings. But he did gradually relax—almost in spite of himself.

Bones remembered how nervous he’d felt—Spock's muscle tissue was quite different from a human's and the man's internal organs were arranged differently. And he'd had to accustom himself to the warmth of the Vulcan's skin. He had to keep reminding himself that Spock wasn't burning up from some impossibly high fever.

But by the time he’d reached Spock's lower back, Bones felt completely at ease with him. And it was fascinating to work on the muscles of another species. Even though Spock was half human, his body was essentially that of a Vulcan.

Bones had gotten more talkative along the way. He kept to professional questions, of course: where are you experiencing the most stiffness? How does this feel? And sometimes he had let Spock know what he was about to do, so that the Vulcan wouldn't stiffen up again in surprise.

And Spock had rewarded McCoy for his tact by tentatively trusting him. "The muscles in my left leg trouble me most, Doctor," he admitted. "I believe those most in need of your attention is what humans refer to as quadriceps muscles."

"All right then," Bones had answered. "I'll need you to remove your trousers, Mr. Spock, and lie down on your back."

For a moment McCoy had thought that the Vulcan would balk. But Spock had surprised him by obeying him without even making a face about it. And he had remained relaxed and at ease as the doctor worked on his leg.

That massage had forged the friendship between the two men—McCoy had no doubt about that. McCoy had proved himself to the Vulcan by remaining calm and detached, treating Spock with respect, despite the vicious argument they'd just had.

And, by the end of that massage, Spock had returned that respect in full. Bones had even risked a teasing comment—and the Vulcan had, astonishingly, offered a playful retort. Yes, it was a good moment. And however much they argued afterward, there was always an unspoken understanding between them.

After that first massage, Spock had always accepted physical contact from the doctor. Hell, sometimes Spock even initiated it himself. A hand on the arm, a hand on the back, a hand on the shoulder—none of these troubled the Vulcan.

The bunk did not serve as well as the massage table available in sickbay, McCoy thought to himself, returning his mind to the present. But he was making do. He deepened the intensity of the massage as he felt Spock relax further with each breath.

Bones smiled again. There was something powerfully satisfying about taking care of Spock. Of course, Bones took a personal pride in looking after all his patients…but since Spock was a special challenge, he was something of a favorite. At least when he wasn't driving McCoy to bedlam.

He liked being responsible for the Vulcan’s well-being. He always had. And there was always something new to learn about how Spock’s body worked or what made his brain tick. Bones paused for a bare second and gave himself an inward shake. That wasn’t fair—he was thinking of Spock as a specimen in a lab again. But it was just so damned hard to set aside his medical curiosity.

That medical curiosity was thoroughly piqued by the notion of having sex with Spock. Yes, he wanted Spock for Spock’s sake—because he loved the God-damned, pointy-eared elf. That went without saying. But the technical aspects of interspecies sex likewise fascinated him.

Damn—there he went, using ‘fascinating’ again—or a variation of it. He was going to end up sounding just like Spock if he wasn’t careful.

And what would it be like to make love to someone as—well, as literally ‘hot’ as Spock? Bones already loved sleeping next to the Vulcan, feeling arms that were impossibly warm around him. What would it be like when their relationship grew even more intimate? What would it be like to feel that warmth as he…

Bones broke off from those thoughts and buried them. He couldn’t drift too far in that direction. This was supposed to be a relaxing, professional massage. Not an erotic, stimulating one.

Spock spoke up just then, which was probably just as well. Bones needed the distraction.

“You enjoy giving massages, do you not, Doctor?”

“I do,” Bones confirmed. “Good thing, too, considering the abuse that you, Jim and Sulu subject your bodies to on a regular basis. I have to admit, though, that Jim is the worst offender.”

“Indeed,” Spock said. “And he has no—discomfort asking for a massage from you. Humans do not take this personally?”

“Some do,” Bones explained. “It depends on the person. Is it very personal on Vulcan? Is it something you’d only allow a family member to do?”

“It is—it is normally only permissible for a mate or, under exceptional circumstances, a healer to give one.”

“Well, I count as a healer for you now, don’t I?” Bones asked. “And I’ll be your mate soon enough, so I’d say we’re covered.”

“Yes,” Spock agreed. “But you give massages even when they are not, strictly speaking, medically necessary. I suspect that Jim and Rand, for example, are not always in dire pain when they come to you.”

Bones laughed. “No—but as long as I have the time I don’t mind.” He paused and gave the Vulcan a startled look. “Why, Mr. Spock, I do believe you’re jealous!”

“I am not jealous,” Spock corrected. “I merely question the application of such a personal form of therapy in cases where it is not medically required. Surely something so…intimate…should be reserved for one’s mate?”

Bones grinned, interpreting that to mean that Spock was, in fact, jealous. He leaned over and kissed the back of Spock’s neck and then whispered in his ear. “Tell you what. There’s another type of massage that I’ll introduce you to once we’re bonded. And I promise to reserve it for you alone.”

Spock blushed again, but managed a nod. “That—that will be satisfactory, Doctor.”

“Good,” Bones whispered, brushing Spock’s neck with his lips again. “Now, shall I see to your legs?”

But Spock shook his head and brought himself to a seated position instead. He shifted so that he was facing Bones and took the doctor’s hands in his own.

“Leonard,” he said, “I may escape the Pon Farr. I have not undergone it yet. Perhaps my human heritage has spared me. But if it should come…”

He sighed and let his voice trail off.

“I’m still not clear on what Pon Farr is,” Bones reminded him gently.

Spock looked away. “It is—it is the urge to mate. Like humans, Vulcans can mate at any time—but the urge is most powerful once every seven years, when he undergoes the Pon Farr. A Vulcan becomes exceptionally fertile at that time and must mate…or else he dies.”

Bones stared at him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Spock must have sensed the doctor’s horror and astonishment. He took a deep breath and then turned back to McCoy. “If I should undergo Pon Farr, you would not recognize me. I would become irrational, angry and even violent. And if I should enter such a state while still bound to T’Pring—then I will have little choice, Doctor, but to seek her out and mate with her.”

Bones inhaled sharply. “Thus consummating the marriage.”

Spock nodded. “So, you see, Pon Farr both drives a Vulcan to his marriage ceremony and ensures that he will consummate the marriage.”

“And what if you’re bonded to me when—and if—you go into Pon Farr?”

The Vulcan favored him with a thin smile. “Then I will have little choice but to mate with you, Doctor—although we will need to find some way to protect you from irrational passion and unintentional violence on my part. I am far stronger than you, after all. I might hurt you without meaning to—and, in such a state, I will be incapable of listening to reason.”

Bones forced himself to take a slow, deep breath, giving himself time to take that in. “Your parents—your parents must have found a way to deal with Pon Farr,” he pointed out. “Your father, as a Vulcan, must be at least three times stronger than your human mother.”

Spock cringed at that, as though picturing his father in Pon Farr was almost beyond him. “To the best of my knowledge, my father has never harmed my mother. So, yes—they must have found a way to ‘deal with it,’ as you say.”

“Then we will too,” Bones assured him, squeezing his hand. “But we’d better get you un-betrothed to T’Pring as soon as possible.”

Spock cocked his head at him. “You still wish to bond with me, Doctor? Even knowing the harm I could do you, however unintentional?”

Bones rolled his eyes as he nodded. “Yes—if your cold logic didn’t drive me away, there’s no way your irrational passion will.”

The Vulcan stared at him for a long moment, but at length he nodded. Then he moved his hands to McCoy’s face—and then to the back of McCoy’s head—and then he drew the doctor to him and kissed him…gently at first, but then with a strong dose of what could only be called ‘irrational passion.’

When they broke off from the kiss, Bones found Spock’s dark eyes regarding him with an intensity that thrilled him. “I wish to possess you, Leonard,” Spock said. “And I wish to belong to you.”

Bones put one hand on Spock’s cheek. “I feel the same way for you—I want to possess you and belong to you. But Spock—“

He stopped abruptly.

The Vulcan cocked his head at him. “What is it?”

“You have to break this betrothal.”

Spock nodded. “I received word from my mother. She wishes me to come to Vulcan as soon as possible. Jim is already making arrangements—he thinks we can justify a visit to my home planet when our business on Octavian VII is complete. If not, I will take a brief leave of absence from the Enterprise.”

Bones considered that. “Has Jim even found a way to justify our business on Octavain VII?”

Spock came perilously close to smiling at that. “He has provided Starfleet with some reason for our presence there, yes. He has not revealed Lee’s complete history, but he has convinced Starfleet Command that an investigation is warranted.”

Bones grinned. “Well, I suppose we can trust him to convince Starfleet Command that a visit to Vulcan is also necessary. And the sooner, the better.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. Then he released his hold on the doctor and stood up. Bones watched as he put his black tee shirt back on. “Let us get to bed, Doctor,” he said.

Bones nodded. He didn’t bother asking why Spock had put the shirt back on. The answer was obvious: Spock did not think it was a good idea for them to share a bed until they were bonded. But given that he had caved in to the doctor’s request, he still meant to keep as many boundaries between them as possible.

Bones couldn’t blame him for that. He was beginning to realize that it wasn’t going to be easy to sleep with Spock without sleeping with him. Keeping his hands off the Vulcan would not be a simple matter. He should use the good sense God gave him and walk back to his own cabin now. But he didn’t. He stretched out on Spock’s bunk instead, leaving just enough room for the Vulcan.

Good sense, after all, was overrated.