The Spanking (Part 2)
When he exited the bathroom, Spock was already in bed, staring up at the bulkhead.
McCoy climbed in, gave Spock a peck on the lips then snuggled up to him. “Lights out, computer,” he called out.
In the dark, Spock suddenly whispered: “Lenny?”
“Hmm?”
“I would like to view this video.”
“Do you?” McCoy grunted, as he reached behind him and pulled the dataPADD off of the nightstand. “Computer lights on, five percent.” He hit the PADD which gave him his sickbay monitor. He tapped the file and handed it to Spock.
Spock watched the film with an even expression before handing back the PADD.
McCoy dropped the PADD onto the deck next to the bed. “Silly, I know. I’m sorry. It... got me a little turned on,” he murmured.
“Lights out, computer,” Spock intoned. “Goodnight.”
McCoy sighed as he snuggled up once again. He’d gotten an erection from the film, again, and at least he wouldn’t have to go hide in the sickbay head this time to jack off, he could do it right here or maybe-- “Spock?”
“No.”
McCoy exhaled and leaned his head back on his pillow. “Fine.” He tried to minimize his breathing, willing his boner to go down.
He felt a warm hand snake its way down his leg. He smirked in the dark.
Warm fingers circled his cock gave him a squeeze, then ran two fingers down his shaft. “I am not agreeing to spank you.”
“I know,” McCoy said with a gasp.
“However, if, hypothetically, I did this act of which you have asked for: The punishment of a naughty doctor-- and I repeat, I will not do so. This is purely hypothetical, as I said-- how would you want me to do it? Bend you over my knee?” Spock stroked him up and down.
McCoy bit his lip. “Uh huh.”
“What would you like to use as a safe word? In case of serious injury?”
“I...don’t...know...”McCoy mumbled. “A word we...wouldn’t normally use during....” Spock twisted his hand. “Ohhh... I don’t know...you pick something. Ohhh. Oh god, don’t stop.” He was so damned close already.
Spock stopped, just to tease, damn him. “I may chose the word?”
“Yeah. Whatever you want, baby.” McCoy canted his hips to try to get Spock to resume. “Uhhh.”
“How about a medical term?” Spock started stroking him again, much too slowly.
“Yeah...alright....it’s fine...oh, harder, Spock.”
Spock still would only stroke him slowly and lightly. “What is ‘BM’? I have heard that term before.”
McCoy huffed out a laugh at that. “‘BM’ can mean: bowel movement? Basal metabolism? Body mass? Bone marrow? Basement membrane? Blood monocyte? Breast milk? Which one, Spock?”
“Basal metabolism.” Spock started stroking him harder, flicking his wrist.
“Ohhh,” McCoy said.
“You would say ‘basal metabolism’--if, hypothetically--I hurt you too much to continue the act.”
“Yeah...‘basal metabolism’. Got it.”
“Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically,” McCoy repeated.
“And then...” Spock flicked his wrist. “I would throw you onto your desk and fuck you. Hypothetically. Correct?”
McCoy promptly came all over Spock’s hand.
*
On the bridge, Spock frowned at the report.
“Problem, Mr. Spock?” the captain asked.
“Mmm, yes,” Spock murmured back. “It is the correlated data from the most recent scientific survey. McCoy’s calculations are off by an entire .005%.”
“Really?” Kirk said. “That’s odd.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ll order him to report to the bridge and fix the error.”
Spock stood up from his science station. “Unnecessary, Captain. I believe I should like to rectify the error in Dr. McCoy’s office. I would prefer to view his data personally. I know that he has it on his monitor.”
“Can’t you call it up on your science station?”
Spock hesitated a moment. “Negative.”
Kirk eyed him a moment. “Alright. Well, it is quiet up here, please by all means, do what you have to do.”
“I will, Captain. I will.”
*
As Spock entered the chief medical officer’s domain, the good doctor glanced up from his monitor. “Well, hello, Mr. Spock. What brings you by?”
Spock walked up. “This.” He held up a red datatape.
“What about it?”
Spock set it down on McCoy’s desk. “The most recent scientific survey on Cantas II. In your report, you are off on your calculations.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Off? That’s preposterous.”
“Nevertheless, you are.”
“Oh really?” McCoy folded his arms. “By how much?”
“.005%.”
“The hell I am. I double checked those figures myself.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed, Mr. Spock.”
“I see. Well, then, I am mistaken.”
“You sure are.”
“Instead of it being a simple error on your part, I have now come to realize the discrepancy is due to glaring incompetence.”
McCoy’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Glaring incompetence?! How dare you!” he snapped. “I’m correct in those figures, you green blooded hobgoblin!”
“You are most certainly are not.”
“I am too, you pointy eared menace!”
“You are not. Dr. McCoy, I--”
“Now wait just a goddamned minute!” McCoy shouted. “Hold on!” He went to the door, it opened as he approached. “Nurse Chapel!”
The nurse was, of course, standing right outside, eavesdropping. “Yes, Doctor?”
“Take a lunch. In the mess hall, please. You can use the officer’s mess. Who else is there with you?”
“Mr. Connors.”
“Take him with you. Right now. Git!” McCoy stuck out his thumb. “Both of ya!”
“Yes, Doctor.” McCoy scowled and watched through the doorway, as Chapel and Connors exited.
The doctor shut the door. “Computer, lock on my voiceprint.”
“Acknowledged.”
McCoy spun around. “Now, as for you, you miserable son of a bitch--!”
Before the man could finish, Spock flipped him around and slammed him against the bulkhead. “You were saying, Doctor?”
“Ooof, what the hell are you doing?! Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!” McCoy seethed. “You goddamned, mother fucking--”
“Hush, Doctor,” Spock said. “Shhh.”
“Let me go!”
“Negative.”
Spock forced the man over to the desk. He sat down on McCoy’s chair, pulling the man over his lap.
McCoy continued to struggle in vain. “What are you--? What the hell are you--?”
“Shhh,” Spock said. “Quiet. Doctor, since I am your immediate superior, I, of course, have the final word if there are errors in calculations.”
“Bullshit, you--!”
“Shhhh. And since you have been most distressingly insubordinate to your immediate superior, and you refuse to listen to reason, I am afraid I must punish you. Corporally.”
“What?!” McCoy tried to squirm away but Spock held him down.
“Your hearing is not faulty, Doctor, at least not as faulty as your computations.”
“You can’t do this!”
“Indeed I can. It is a first officer’s right. Regulation 2356C clearly states that--”
“You asshole! You can’t enforce regulation 2356C, it’s....it’s a monday.”
“The regulation is enforceable at all times, Doctor.”
McCoy sighed. “Dammit. I’m screwed, aren’t I.”
“Indeed.”
Part 3
McCoy climbed in, gave Spock a peck on the lips then snuggled up to him. “Lights out, computer,” he called out.
In the dark, Spock suddenly whispered: “Lenny?”
“Hmm?”
“I would like to view this video.”
“Do you?” McCoy grunted, as he reached behind him and pulled the dataPADD off of the nightstand. “Computer lights on, five percent.” He hit the PADD which gave him his sickbay monitor. He tapped the file and handed it to Spock.
Spock watched the film with an even expression before handing back the PADD.
McCoy dropped the PADD onto the deck next to the bed. “Silly, I know. I’m sorry. It... got me a little turned on,” he murmured.
“Lights out, computer,” Spock intoned. “Goodnight.”
McCoy sighed as he snuggled up once again. He’d gotten an erection from the film, again, and at least he wouldn’t have to go hide in the sickbay head this time to jack off, he could do it right here or maybe-- “Spock?”
“No.”
McCoy exhaled and leaned his head back on his pillow. “Fine.” He tried to minimize his breathing, willing his boner to go down.
He felt a warm hand snake its way down his leg. He smirked in the dark.
Warm fingers circled his cock gave him a squeeze, then ran two fingers down his shaft. “I am not agreeing to spank you.”
“I know,” McCoy said with a gasp.
“However, if, hypothetically, I did this act of which you have asked for: The punishment of a naughty doctor-- and I repeat, I will not do so. This is purely hypothetical, as I said-- how would you want me to do it? Bend you over my knee?” Spock stroked him up and down.
McCoy bit his lip. “Uh huh.”
“What would you like to use as a safe word? In case of serious injury?”
“I...don’t...know...”McCoy mumbled. “A word we...wouldn’t normally use during....” Spock twisted his hand. “Ohhh... I don’t know...you pick something. Ohhh. Oh god, don’t stop.” He was so damned close already.
Spock stopped, just to tease, damn him. “I may chose the word?”
“Yeah. Whatever you want, baby.” McCoy canted his hips to try to get Spock to resume. “Uhhh.”
“How about a medical term?” Spock started stroking him again, much too slowly.
“Yeah...alright....it’s fine...oh, harder, Spock.”
Spock still would only stroke him slowly and lightly. “What is ‘BM’? I have heard that term before.”
McCoy huffed out a laugh at that. “‘BM’ can mean: bowel movement? Basal metabolism? Body mass? Bone marrow? Basement membrane? Blood monocyte? Breast milk? Which one, Spock?”
“Basal metabolism.” Spock started stroking him harder, flicking his wrist.
“Ohhh,” McCoy said.
“You would say ‘basal metabolism’--if, hypothetically--I hurt you too much to continue the act.”
“Yeah...‘basal metabolism’. Got it.”
“Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically,” McCoy repeated.
“And then...” Spock flicked his wrist. “I would throw you onto your desk and fuck you. Hypothetically. Correct?”
McCoy promptly came all over Spock’s hand.
*
On the bridge, Spock frowned at the report.
“Problem, Mr. Spock?” the captain asked.
“Mmm, yes,” Spock murmured back. “It is the correlated data from the most recent scientific survey. McCoy’s calculations are off by an entire .005%.”
“Really?” Kirk said. “That’s odd.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ll order him to report to the bridge and fix the error.”
Spock stood up from his science station. “Unnecessary, Captain. I believe I should like to rectify the error in Dr. McCoy’s office. I would prefer to view his data personally. I know that he has it on his monitor.”
“Can’t you call it up on your science station?”
Spock hesitated a moment. “Negative.”
Kirk eyed him a moment. “Alright. Well, it is quiet up here, please by all means, do what you have to do.”
“I will, Captain. I will.”
*
As Spock entered the chief medical officer’s domain, the good doctor glanced up from his monitor. “Well, hello, Mr. Spock. What brings you by?”
Spock walked up. “This.” He held up a red datatape.
“What about it?”
Spock set it down on McCoy’s desk. “The most recent scientific survey on Cantas II. In your report, you are off on your calculations.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Off? That’s preposterous.”
“Nevertheless, you are.”
“Oh really?” McCoy folded his arms. “By how much?”
“.005%.”
“The hell I am. I double checked those figures myself.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed, Mr. Spock.”
“I see. Well, then, I am mistaken.”
“You sure are.”
“Instead of it being a simple error on your part, I have now come to realize the discrepancy is due to glaring incompetence.”
McCoy’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Glaring incompetence?! How dare you!” he snapped. “I’m correct in those figures, you green blooded hobgoblin!”
“You are most certainly are not.”
“I am too, you pointy eared menace!”
“You are not. Dr. McCoy, I--”
“Now wait just a goddamned minute!” McCoy shouted. “Hold on!” He went to the door, it opened as he approached. “Nurse Chapel!”
The nurse was, of course, standing right outside, eavesdropping. “Yes, Doctor?”
“Take a lunch. In the mess hall, please. You can use the officer’s mess. Who else is there with you?”
“Mr. Connors.”
“Take him with you. Right now. Git!” McCoy stuck out his thumb. “Both of ya!”
“Yes, Doctor.” McCoy scowled and watched through the doorway, as Chapel and Connors exited.
The doctor shut the door. “Computer, lock on my voiceprint.”
“Acknowledged.”
McCoy spun around. “Now, as for you, you miserable son of a bitch--!”
Before the man could finish, Spock flipped him around and slammed him against the bulkhead. “You were saying, Doctor?”
“Ooof, what the hell are you doing?! Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!” McCoy seethed. “You goddamned, mother fucking--”
“Hush, Doctor,” Spock said. “Shhh.”
“Let me go!”
“Negative.”
Spock forced the man over to the desk. He sat down on McCoy’s chair, pulling the man over his lap.
McCoy continued to struggle in vain. “What are you--? What the hell are you--?”
“Shhh,” Spock said. “Quiet. Doctor, since I am your immediate superior, I, of course, have the final word if there are errors in calculations.”
“Bullshit, you--!”
“Shhhh. And since you have been most distressingly insubordinate to your immediate superior, and you refuse to listen to reason, I am afraid I must punish you. Corporally.”
“What?!” McCoy tried to squirm away but Spock held him down.
“Your hearing is not faulty, Doctor, at least not as faulty as your computations.”
“You can’t do this!”
“Indeed I can. It is a first officer’s right. Regulation 2356C clearly states that--”
“You asshole! You can’t enforce regulation 2356C, it’s....it’s a monday.”
“The regulation is enforceable at all times, Doctor.”
McCoy sighed. “Dammit. I’m screwed, aren’t I.”
“Indeed.”
Part 3