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It was Spock’s turn to be lying in Sickbay after a landing party went horribly awry. Fortunately for the entire ship’s crew, he wasn’t injured too badly; Jim Kirk was an excellent captain, but when his t’hy’la was hurt, Kirk was all but a basket case until the crisis passed.

By the time he’d had to spend three nights squirming under McCoy’s watchful eye and enduring Nurse Chapel’s misguided attempts to flirt with him (after all, if she tried hard enough, Spock might switch teams, or so she hoped), Spock was experiencing a phenomenon known as “going stir-crazy.” Luckily for him, Jim was on the job.

“T’hy’la, I really do not…ohhh, yes, my Jim...think we should be doing this…ohhh please, your tongue, so wet, so good…. while we are here. Dr. McCoy has repeatedly objected to….ahhh!” Spock broke off whatever he was trying to say, head lolling on the pillow as Jim’s talented tongue proceeded to lick up one side of his erection and down the other. With a grin, Jim climbed on top of his mate, letting their naked bodies come together as he started rocking against Spock’s thrusts.

“Oh, Jesus, you two!”

Both men heard McCoy’s voice from the doorway. Spock sighed. Jim just kept on doing what he did best.

“I’ve told both of you to quit putting on free shows in here,” McCoy raved. “Damnit, I’m a doctor, not a porn show peeper!”

Spock had heard enough.

“And yet, doctor” he gasped, trying to speak coherently even as Jim’s body drove him wild, “you stood in the doorway watching for 6.2 minutes before interrupting us, which would indicate a certain predilection towards…”

The doctor’s face went scarlet. The door whooshed shut. Jim and Spock were not disturbed again

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