There are aspects about camping which Spock thought to be acceptable (which included liquor-spiked beans, roasted marshmallows, and singing songs with ridiculous lyrics together with his inebriated friends).
There were other aspects that were lost on him, like the strange sweet called S’mores that was repeatedly forced upon him.
“Come on, Spock, just one more,” Bones said and leaned over, waving a freshly prepared portion.
“I fail to see the appeal of these, Doctor.”
“It’s because you just don’t how to eat them,” Bones said with a smirk and pointed at the remains of molten chocolate on Spock’s hands. “I’ll show you a better way.” He bit into the S’more and drew closer, gesturing Spock to eat the other half.
“Great idea,” Jim Kirk enthusiastically chimed in from the other side of the camp fire.
Knowing he would not be able to escape the consumption of a S’more, he leaned towards the doctor and bit off his half of the sweet.
At least, he tried, because the high adhesion of the various involved materials led to the S’more sticking firmly to his teeth and to the doctor’s half. Warm chocolate crept out and slowly pooled in the edges of his mouth, then started to drip down his cheek. At last, he managed to get his bite off the resistant material and chewed it, calculating the possibility of a dislocated jaw as he finally swallowed the gluey mass.
The doctor’s half was long gone, without a trace of chocolate on the other man’s lips, and for once Spock felt clumsy and inadequate.
“Let me take care of this,” Bones whispered and bent forward, slipping his tongue over Spock’s face, gently drawing a line from his chin to the edge of his lips. He repeated the process, ending with sliding his tongue into Spock’s willing mouth this time.
“Hey, leave something for me,” Jim suddenly said close to Spock’s ears. He drew Spock’s face towards him and cupped it, licking away the line of chocolate on the other side of his face.
Spock faintly thought about remarking that saliva that had been in contact with S’mores was unlikely to be any less sticky and chocolate-containing than the residue on his face, but the tongue against his lips was probing deeper and so he opened to it, tasting brandy and beans and marshmallows and Jim.
On his other side, Bones was kissing a line down his neck and Spock realized that with no sonic showers available at their camping place, the fate of having leftovers of S’mores all over his available skin was unavoidable.
But at least he could retaliate, he thought, and slipped one hand under the doctor’s buttoned shirt, another one into Jim’s waistband, suddenly eager to test the adhesion of chocolate to intimate parts in further detail.