Vulcans were not, by nature, an outwardly romantic species…and so, had anyone told Leonard McCoy a year and a half ago that he’d be waking up to breakfast in bed, served to him by a pointy-eared hobgoblin bondmate on Christmas morning (a quote, unquote, illogical Terran holiday), he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he had often rolled his eyes at his best friend and Captain, calling him seven kinds of fool for the better part of the first year of their five year mission. It had been difficult to watch, in more ways than one, as Jim went from attempting to befriend to pining over their emotionally retarded, computer-brained First Officer.
It had started just two months in, with Jim inviting the Vulcan to lunch and Spock repeatedly declining each and every offer for the first three weeks until the Captain was literally moping from the center seat. Of course, Jim was nothing if not a seasoned strategist and he didn’t believe in no-win scenarios. So, McCoy had watched as Jim took to stalking his prey—learning Spock’s habits, where he liked to spend his free time, when he ate, if he had any hobbies—before he made his move. It wasn’t long before Jim was approaching Spock in the officer’s rec room and challenging him to a game of chess. That first game lasted for over two hours until finally Jim, much to the shock of everyone, claimed victory. It was pretty much all downhill from there…but at that point, it was still like oil and water in Leonard’s estimation.
Sure, the two of them had several things in common and they made one formidable command team. Yet, he just hadn’t understood how someone as vibrant, as passionate…as human as James T. Kirk, could possibly fall head over heels for a guy who was culturally obligated to abstain from anything resembling emotional attachment. Sure, he’d proven he was capable of anger during the Narada Crisis, but it had taken so much just for that single, momentary lapse—the death of his home planet, his mother and then Jim’s verbal assault on top of it all. Watching Jim smother the Vulcan in friendship and affection, pouring his everything into making Spock happy, it just seemed so…one sided. From the outside, Leonard couldn’t understand how making love to Spock would be any different from fucking a cadaver and hoping it was still in rigor mortis.
This drunken analogy was regretfully uttered aloud in response to Jim’s confession that he thought he might be ‘in love’ with Spock, just about eight months after that first chess game. Needless to say, it had not gone over well—ending in a painful ass-kicking in the middle of a blessedly deserted sickbay during Gamma shift which not only left Leonard with a black eye but a bruised ego as well. Luckily, that little skirmish hadn’t made it onto any official reports, but it had taken over three months for him and Jim to get back to some semblance of normal, all the while with Leonard getting more and more glimpses at the ghost in the shell, formally known as Spock.
It turned out that it didn’t take the destruction of a planet to earn an emotional response from the Vulcan after all, despite its subtlety when it did happen. The first peek he’d gotten of thinly veiled emotionalism had been of Spock’s jealousy. Whenever the Captain was ogled appreciatively by horny dignitaries, Spock’s posture would snap into place with even more rigidity than usual and his jaw would set, teeth clenched, like granite. To untrained eyes, the Vulcan would look just as coolly detached as ever, but Leonard had been forced into the Vulcan’s presence by his best friend’s insistence since almost the very beginning and now…he could actually see it. Then, there were the times Jim landed himself in sickbay after some god-awful missions gone awry.
Sure, there were always a few scuffs and bruises involved in just about every away mission they got sent out on—missteps on new planets, physically demanding native rituals—but the really close calls, while they didn’t happen often, were hard on everyone. And when Jim was hurt, really hurt, Spock was a near-constant presence at the man’s bedside. The first time it happened, was just over a year into their mission…that was how he had witnessed his first Vulcan kiss too, actually. McCoy had been headed to Jim’s room to check his IVs and run a final vitals scan that evening when he found himself stopping short just outside the door.
He’d felt an immediate sense of intrusion as he watched Spock make what could only be described as an intimate gesture; the back of two extended fingers lightly caressing Jim’s temple, over and over. Spock had next leaned forward in his chair, his eyes closed as he bent his head to whisper in Jim’s ear, only one word was just loud enough for McCoy to pick up—a Vulcan word: “…ashayam.” He’d been somewhat shocked to discover its meaning after hours of searching on the ship’s database: Beloved or one who is cherished. It was enough to make him feel instantly remorseful for all the misconceptions and stereotypes he’d subjected the Vulcan to…for riding Jim so hard about the impossibilities of having a mutually loving relationship with someone like Spock. Worse though, it made his stomach clench with no small amount of jealousy. Why couldn’t he have that? Why couldn’t Jocelyn have thought of him like that, cared about him like that…even just a little?
Of course, he’d never even seen the Ambassador coming…at least…not in the way he did and he sure as hell hadn’t seen this particular destiny written in the stars for himself. One diplomatic mission, a near fatal injury and time spent, awkwardly at first, in one another’s company had been enough to piqué Leonard’s interest. Sarek had sucked him in like a whirlpool with his intensity, his compassion and his dedication to his work. It had been hard to accept the attraction for what it was…at first. Leonard had never been turned on by another man before, and he’d fought it tooth and nail until Sarek had come to his quarters, implying some illness, only to corner Leonard against his desk and kiss him within an inch of his life.
“Is everything to your liking, Leonard?” Sarek asked, grounding him in the present once more.
“Are you kidding?” he indicated the tray full of eggs—sunny side up and peppered, just the way he liked it—lightly buttered toast, grits, hash browns and a piping hot cup of black coffee with two sugars on the side. “Darlin’, you outdid yourself.”
“I disagree,” Sarek replied stoically, but his eyes shined with the love McCoy knew sizzled just under the surface. “We are out of orange marmalade and the replicator is not programmed to produce it.”
“Well, marmalade or no…” he said while poking a fork into his egg and dipping a piece of toast in the yoke, “this beats the hell out of any fare on the Enterprise and this is the best Christmas morning I’ve had in years.”
“I am gratified to hear it,” his bondmate replied quietly, “I am not always sure…” Sarek stopped himself abruptly and made to stand. “I should prepare for James and Spock’s arrival—“
Leonard caught Sarek’s wrist before he could dash from the room, feeling through their bond his husband’s uncertainty. “Hey,” he pulled Sarek back down to sit on the bed, taking a minute to set aside the breakfast tray, “talk to me. Jim and Spock won’t be here for hours and I can feel you frettin’ over somethin’.”
“It is illogical,” Sarek replied solemnly after a pause.
“Well that’s perfect then,” Leonard insisted, letting his accent pour out through his most charming grin. “I’m thinkin’ that, as an illogical human myself, I might just be able to help you navigate this new, emotional territory.”
“It is not new,” Sarek’s eyes warmed for an instant before once again becoming clouded, and he averted his gaze to the far wall. “I wish to find a way to…express through action, the depths to which I cherish thee, Leonard. Especially on this day, for she who was my wife was also human and I know she coveted this Terran holiday above all others…
“I researched several different human romantic gestures which might be appropriate to the holiday and at the time, this one,” He gestured to the tray on the bedside table, “seemed adequate. Now, however, I find it lacking in several respects. It is not a wholly unique idea nor does it require a large effort to prepare. In fact, now that I have implemented it, breakfast in bed does not appear deserving of its position as ‘Number One Most Romantic Way to Wake Your Lover on Christmas Morning’ as the article in my secretary’s Cosmopolitan Magazine reported.”
Leonard would have laughed, if it weren’t for Sarek’s serious tone. He’d read a top ten list…out of a Cosmo Magazine? He bit his inner lip, but the humor of the situation died at his husband’s next words, “I never…I did not adhere to my former bondmate’s customs…I did not attempt to show her in the tradition of her people how much I…loved her. I pushed our only son to ignore the best parts of himself in favor of embracing his Vulcan heritage…I did nothing to quell her alienation on Vulcan. I took her for granted.” Finally Sarek met the eyes of his new bondmate, his voice quiet, but thick with the depths of his Vulcan emotions when he added, “I do not wish to repeat these errors. Leonard, I…this gesture is an inadequate expression of my appreciation of our time together…of you, of our…love.”
There wasn’t much that could bring Leonard H. McCoy, hardened Chief Medical Officer and southern-bred gentleman to tears, but damn it all if his throat wasn’t tightening suspiciously, immediately drawn to give his husband the reassurance he needed. It had felt awkward, at first in the early stages of their relationship, allowing himself to be held rather than being the one to do the holding, being openly seductive when accustomed to being seduced. Loving Sarek had been easy to do…but it was the interplay of gender roles within a same sex relationship that had taken him time to get used to. Now, six months into their bond and just over a year since it all began, he found it easy to climb onto Sarek’s lap, to thread his fingers through short, argentine hair and press their foreheads together, his heart fuller than he’d ever thought possible since the abysmal failure that was his first marriage.
“Sarek,” he wrapped his arms around the beloved body, so quietly forlorn with self-doubt, “ you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Leonard leaned back to pick up his love’s sturdy hands, tangling their fingers together in a hard, Vulcan kiss, “There ain’t nothin’ that I need from you that I don’t already have. There’s no fancy gesture of your feelings that you could make that would ever be adequate enough to express what I know, what I feel…in here,” he pointed to his heart, then to his temple, “or up here…and I know it was the same for her…I don’t see how it couldn’t be. We can celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day—I don’t give a damn about any of it, not really. They’re all just convenient excuses to spend time with you.
“Don’t you see that? Any human gesture you could have made to Amanda, and any gesture you could make to me…it can’t hold a candle to sharing a Vulcan bond with you. There isn’t a moment of any day that I don’t feel your love, that I don’t know how cherished I am,” Leonard breathed a sigh of relief when Sarek’s shoulders relaxed, finally understanding and he grinned wolfishly, “But…if you really feel like you need to express yourself in a more…tangible way...” he pulled his t-shirt off and pressed their lips together, taking Sarek’s mouth with white-hot desire and sensual intent. When they broke apart for air, he managed to whisper, “Make love to me, ashaya…that’s all I need. Just you.”
As they often did when emotions ran high between them, Sarek’s hands shook with restraint as he rolled them into the center of the bed, his hands flying to the fastenings of his robe. His gloriously human bondmate, impatient as himself to feel their naked flesh unite, pushed his fumbling digits aside, grabbing the robe by the lapels and tearing it apart, oblong buttons flying in all directions. Leonard gripped him behind the neck and pulled him down for a kiss, moaning into his throat as their bare torsos finally collided.
Sarek made quick work of his mate’s underwear, the final barrier between them—its delicate fabric not faring much better than his robe in the face of their desire. His brows furrowed and his eyes closed in an indecent show of bliss as their unclothed lengths sought and found the friction of skin. “Oh…” he moaned aloud when his testicles slid against Leonard’s, hot and soft, a vivid contrast to the hardness of their seeking organs, all of it slick with the rush of Vulcan precum.
“Oh, God, Sarek,” Leonard keened, “please…need you inside me.”
“Yes,” Sarek groaned a harsh whisper, as he reluctantly pulled away to snatch a pillow and place it under his husband’s hips. Leonard’s legs fell open in invitation and Sarek’s cock pulsed wantonly in reaction. The pucker of his mate’s entrance beckoned to him, and he stroked it lovingly with the pad of his thumb, before placing his leaking head just below Leonard’s large scrotum, sliding it up and down the spread crevice to slicken the area. He watched with thinly veiled appreciation as Leonard thrashed beneath him, his hips undulating in open encouragement, so different…so much more sure than the first time they’d made love. It made his heart beat quicken with pride.
Leonard was swiftly coming unglued at Sarek’s teasing preparation. His body had been well-loved in the time that he and Sarek had become physical well over a year ago. He was past the point of needing constant preparing and his lover knew it, enjoying the teasing as much as the actual act, Leonard knew. The hot slide of his mate’s alien cock, slick and firm, against his hole was driving him insane with need.“Enough, damn it,” he whined. “Fuck me already…” he pushed his ass up against the teasing organ. His own cock was so hard, so hard and seeking. He wrapped one hand around it, shamelessly jacking himself off in front of his mate, “Oh God...touch me, fuck me…fill me…”
“As you wish,” Sarek replied huskily, bending over his husband and sinking inside with a low, guttural moan. He whispered haggardly against Leonard’s ear when he was fully seated, “Thy body is haven.”
Leonard was lost, basking in the familiar feeling of being stretched and filled, his eager hole sending tendrils of pleasure up his spine as Sarek moved inside of him; He tightened his grip on his member, balls heavy and full, aching with pleasure as they rocked against one another. He didn’t dare stroke it, knowing he’d go off like a rocket if he did and he wanted to draw it out for as long as humanly possible. Leonard had never fancied himself as the kind of guy that would enjoy anal—despite that little bundle of nerves that, as a doctor, he knew existed and what the supposedly pleasurable consequences associated with stimulating it were. He just hadn’t been able to get past thinking of that particular area of his body as an exit only, not particularly turned on by the idea of shoving something the size of a lemon up an opening the size of a grape…
He really hadn’t considered just how pleasurable the stretch and slide of a full, hard cock against the skin and nerves of that opening could be…hadn’t wanted to find out…until Sarek. That first time his Vulcan had let Leonard plunder his body, he’d seen how much his lover had enjoyed it and then it had become something he needed…something only Sarek could give him. And oh…oh, how glorious it had been…his mate’s hot tongue licking him open, agile fingers stretching and fucking his hole until he’d begged for Sarek’s cock, begged to be fucked into the mattress. Kind of like now…
“Harder,” he practically screamed, needing to feel it more…deeper…faster. Sarek obeyed, pushing in with as much force as he dared, the head of his dick nailing Leonard’s prostate so hard it made his legs quiver. “Fuuuuck….” He moaned, driving his hips down to meet his lover’s thrusts.
“Yesss…” Sarek hissed, banging into his ass with measured force, swirling hips and arching his back as Leonard’s clenching hole pulled on his cock like a tight, sucking mouth. “OH…!”
Leonard felt Sarek release into him and he finally pumped his cock…once, twice, writhing with bliss…three times and he was coming in long strips of thick, white cream that coated his stomach and chest. “Oh God…” and they hadn’t even melded that time. He was still twitching with orgasm when Sarek slipped from his body and his hot mouth closed over Leonard’s cock to suck out the remaining fluids, his tongue licking a path down the shaft and up his abdomen, lapping up his emission like a thirsty kitten.
When he was finished, Sarek collapsed onto his lover, his arms hooked over his mate’s spread thighs, head resting just above his spent shaft. “You see?” McCoy said after a while, his fingers brushing back silver bangs, “How could I ever doubt you after sharin’ something like that?”
Sarek drew in a deep breath, allowing himself to relax in the love he felt in his human’s embrace, “You are right, beloved. Forgive me my illogical insecurities.”
Leonard propped himself up on an elbow, using his other hand to draw Sarek to him, enjoying the way he crawled forward up the length of his body on hands and knees until their lips finally met and they sank back onto the mattress together. “Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he whispered against Sarek’s subtle non-smile. He pulled the tray back over from the bedside table and sat it between them, lifting a piece of toast to Sarek’s lips. “Let’s be romantic saps together,” he winked, “Just this once.”