FIC: "Proof of Love"
Title: Proof of Love
Author: orphica
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spock refuses to admit he feels love, but McCoy is determined to show him he does. Originally written for the st_respect prompt, ""No, this trick won't work...How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as love?" -Einstein"
Word Count: 4500
Thank you to my beta and artist contributor, vail_kagami
Author Notes: Normally I don't like to illustrate fic, but it was recommended for the challenge, and thus it is so.
This drawing by the wonderful vail_kagami
***
He wasn't much of a morning person, but good, slow sex was worth waking up for.
McCoy squeezed the fingers that were currently wrapped around his, knowing how much that turned his partner on. In return, Spock thrust into him harder, though it was difficult in their current position: lying on their sides, Spock wrapped around him, his free hand curled around his cock.
The slight increase in pace was all McCoy needed. He came with a grunt, spilling over Spock's fist. Spock followed suit, never vocal, but the shuddering of his body and the sudden, nearly painful grip on McCoy's fingers gave his orgasm away.
McCoy let out a long, contented sigh when Spock rested his forehead against the back of his neck and held him tightly around the waist without withdrawing from his body.
"I love you, Spock."
It was the fifth time he'd said this particular phrase to Spock.
The first time had been after a truly earth-shattering orgasm that would have made any man profess the world to his lover. Spock had said nothing, and McCoy had been embarrassed at letting it slip, so he'd been grateful they could both ignore it.
The second time had happened in much the same way, with the same result.
The third time had happened when Spock had come back from an away mission, injured. After slapping him in the attempt to break him out of the healing trance, McCoy had been so goddamn happy to see him come back that he'd kissed him and murmured those words, along with threats to never, ever try and single-handedly take on any saber-toothed creature ever again.
The fourth time had been when McCoy had been given a birthday gift of fresh peaches. It had been casual, almost offhand, more of an expression of thanks and delight than any confession needing a response.
In all those times, it hadn't bothered him that Spock had said nothing. But now, this was the fifth time, in a circumstance that highly lent itself to having the sentiment returned. And McCoy suddenly realized that he very much wanted to hear Spock say it.
"Spock?"
"Yes, Leonard?" His voice had the deep, lazy quality it often took on post-coital.
"Did you hear what--"
Spock interrupted him. "I have no auditory disabilities."
"But you weren't even going to acknowledge I said anything?"
"I was not aware your statement required acknowledgement."
McCoy nearly snorted. Ah, the frustrations of being with a Vulcan. He wouldn't go so far as to say it was one of the reasons he loved him, but he was certainly used to it and could, most of the time, look past it. "It's customary to say how you feel back."
"And what if the other does not feel?"
McCoy sighed. "Don't pretend like that with me, Spock. I know you feel things."
"I am not certain I can reciprocate in the manner you seem to desire."
His affection and tolerance toward his lover's penchant for emotional denial faded quickly. "So... you're not going to say anything back."
"I believe it would be deliberately deceiving."
McCoy felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. "So, right now, when you still have your cock in my ass, after some incredible, loving sex, which we've been having for six months, you won't even admit you love me?"
"One cannot admit what one does not feel."
"Are you saying that you don't love me? Not at all?" He pushed Spock away from him at that, rolled off the bed and began gathering his clothes off the floor.
"Leonard, I greatly enjoy our sexual relations, as well as spending time with you in a non-sexual manner. But I do not understand love."
"Hell, nobody understands love, Spock!" McCoy exclaimed loudly, losing control of the volume of his voice. "You just know when you have it!"
Spock just looked at him solemnly. "I can define many emotions I experience while I am in your presence. But I have not read a definition of love that encompasses these emotions."
"You must love me, Spock, I know you do. The way you act toward me, the way we are together... I don't care if what you feel doesn't perfectly describe what's in the dictionary, I just want to hear it sometimes."
"Love is an illogical emotion, given that it cannot be precisely defined, and therefore I do not possess such."
It was that statement that made McCoy growl with fury, pull on his uniform as fast as he could, and rush to sickbay without even showering.
***
McCoy busied himself that day with tasks he normally left to his nurses, since sickbay was currently devoid of patients due to the time that had passed since an away mission, and his diligence on vaccinations for the crew. His staff knew him well enough to sense his mood, didn't protest the takeover of their duties, and steered well clear of him.
Per usual, Jim came down to visit him during his lunch break, greeting him with a clap on the back. McCoy just glared at him in return.
"What? What's got you grumpier than usual today?"
"Nothing." He really wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it. Not when the rejection was still so fresh and raw.
"C'mon, Bones, you can't fool me. Spill it."
McCoy hesitated. He didn't want to sound all sappy, but Jim had the tendency to swiftly fall head over heals for people (and aliens) often enough that he'd probably sympathize.
"I told Spock I love him. And then I asked him how he felt."
Understanding quickly passed over Jim's visage. "Ohhhh. And let me guess, Spock said something Spock-ish back."
"If you call, 'Love is an illogical emotion and therefore I do not possess such' Spock-ish, then yeah, he did."
Jim winced. "Ouch. Sorry, Bones."
"I'm being stupid though, aren't I?" He shook his head, suddenly not even sure what possessed him to think he could wrangle such a confession out of someone like Spock. "What else do you expect from a Vulcan?"
"Not your fault, Bones. You couldn't have known. I mean, Lady Amanda didn't seem like the type to marry someone that didn't love her. Ambassador Sarek must have said he did."
"S'pose so." He sighed. He really was crazy to have expected anything more from Spock.
Jim put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Well, I gotta get back to the bridge. But if you want me to come over after my shift and help you refill your whiskey glass when you're too drunk to do it yourself, just lemme know, 'kay?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Jim."
Maybe he was crazy, but McCoy knew one thing about himself -- he could be just as stubborn as a damn Vulcan could, and he was gonna get Spock to admit he loved him if it was the last thing he did.
***
McCoy skipped the drink with Jim, instead deciding to turn in early, emotional exhaustion taking its toll. He got ready for bed, pulling out an old t-shirt and boxers to sleep in for the first time in a good while. Traveling long distances in space, star-mapping, not coming across any habitable planet in over a month meant no opportunities for landing parties, and thus he and Spock had been free to spend every night together. (Jim had slyly and discreetly arranged their shift schedules to match.) McCoy had slept sexually satiated and naked for the past three weeks.
Spock came to his room that night, acting as if everything was normal... as if they hadn’t had a major fight. Sure, they bickered and argued over small, ultimately inconsequential things all the time, that was their thing, after all, and though McCoy would probably never admit it to Jim, it was something like foreplay to them. If they got riled up enough at each other, rough, hot sex was sure to follow that night.
Yet, this time, McCoy was still too pissed at Spock to welcome any of the Vulcan’s advances.
"Is reconciliatory intercourse not our customary activity following a disagreement?" Spock asked, seemingly confused when McCoy turned his head away from a kiss.
"This time it's different, Spock." He wasn't going to reward Spock's 'love is illogical' argument with sex, as if their argument today was like any other and it didn't matter.
Spock backed away to sit in the desk chair; his posture seemingly even more straight and formal than usual, if that were possible. "You are genuinely disturbed by what I have said earlier this morning."
"What, did you think I was kidding?" he snapped, his irritation growing even further.
Spock's lips tightened before answering, "I did not. It was not my intention to belittle your sentiments."
"Look, Spock, I don't think you're so inept with human traditions to know that telling someone you love them is a big deal. And you're half-human, too, dammit, even if you're still green and your physical heart is in a different place. I don't know where your metaphorical heart is."
Spock was silent for a moment before he said, "I believe it may be beneficial if we continue this discussion at a later time. I will go."
"You can't just avoid this, you know," he insisted.
But the Vulcan just stood up, adjusted his shirt, and turned on his heels toward the door.
***
McCoy moped in his office over the next few days. Things hadn't gotten better with Spock, and it turned out that the Vulcan could avoid talking with him if he were determined to. Thus, they'd both been sleeping in their respective quarters, alone, and barely spoke to each other throughout the day unless their work called for it.
But McCoy didn't want to budge on this. Oh, he knew that Spock would never be the first to give in, never. So it would be up to him to try and convince him otherwise. There had to be some way to get Spock to understand that love was a true and valid thing, not just some emotion, and there wasn't any harm in admitting it. There had to be some scientific way he could prove to Spock that love was real.
There had to be a way. And then something occurred to him -- the Enterprise had great medical and scientific equipment. Maybe, just maybe, Spock would agree to a brain scan, and if he could see, if he could actually see the biochemical processes of love, then that would be something the science officer could comprehend.
He pressed the intercom button. "McCoy to bridge."
"Spock here."
"Spock, can you come down to sickbay when you have a free moment? There's something I'd like your expertise on."
"Certainly, Doctor."
Well. He'd give it his best shot, in any case.
***
"What is the matter in which I can assist you, Doctor?" Spock asked as soon as he'd made it down to sickbay.
"It's kinda... unofficial, off the records."
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"I came up with a little... experiment I was hoping you'd participate in."
Spock glanced around without moving his head. "I believe I have exhaustively elucidated my position on sexual activity outside of our quarters," he spoke quietly.
McCoy huffed. "That's not what I meant! I swear, Spock, you think about sex more than Jim sometimes!"
Looking offended, Spock protested, "I hardly would compare --"
"Nevermind, Spock. Mostly not what I meant," he conceded. "I guess there might be a… slightly sexual aspect to it after all. But it'll all be in the name of science," he added with a grin.
Spock just looked at him, bemused and suspicious.
"Over here," McCoy said, gesturing to a scanning station. "I've set it up so we can scan our brainwaves and measure various hormones released in response to various stimuli."
Spock cocked his head dubiously. "For what purpose?"
"I want you to see what my brain looks like, what happens biochemically when I think about you... when I kiss you."
McCoy only got a furrowed forehead from him in response. "I am familiar with a great deal of human biochemistry. I do not see the necessity in this demonstration."
"Ah, but here's the catch... then we'll scan you and compare to me, and we'll see if your brain goes through the same processes mine does. I skimmed through some Vulcan medical literature, but you guys are so stingy with what you'll publish outside of Vulcan that we'll just have to do our own hands-on research."
"Very well."
"Really? You'll do it?"
"That is what I said."
McCoy grinned. "All right."
He laid down on the biobed, settling himself so that he was comfortable. Spock was familiar enough with the equipment that guiding him through the setup was simple.
"Okay. I'm going to think about the first time we kissed."
He thought of many different things, then asked Spock to kiss him. He thought it might be helpful track their orgasmic responses, but there was no way he wanted to risk getting caught doing anything like that, so Spock would just have to believe the rest of the human medical literature in that regard.
Then it was Spock's turn. "Think about the first time we kissed," McCoy commanded him softly.
Sure enough, the same areas that had lit up in his own brain lit up in Spock's. "Think about the first time we had sex."
"Think about the time you saved me in the gladiator ring."
He gave him a few more scenarios, pleased to see that the similarities and differences in their brainwave responses were just as he'd expected.
Knowing kisses on the lips didn't really do a whole lot for Spock, McCoy picked up his hand and caressed his fingers. He kept up with it long enough that Spock's respiratory rate began to increase, and he grew half-erect.
Not wanting to make him uncomfortable or unnecessarily tease him, McCoy was satisfied he had the data he needed. He punched a few commands into the computer, until both their readings were displayed side by side on the screen.
McCoy pulled up their hormone and neurotransmitter reports, singling out the oxytocin and vasopressin surges. "They're of similar composition to mine," McCoy explained, "and allowing for a bit of chemical and structural differences for the Vulcan in you, it would seem that you have the same chemical responses that I do. Look here at the ventral pallidum and your equivalent of the hypothalamus."
"This is not terribly new information, Doctor."
"Yes, but do you see, Spock? When we brought up the same memories, our scans are remarkably similar. Which means that if I know I'm feeling love, you must be feeling the same. What you're looking at is proof that you love me."
Spock just stared at the screen. He looked as if he might be about to say something, when, suddenly, the red alert sounded. "Spock to the bridge!" Sulu's voice rang out over the com.
Spock dashed out without a word.
It would figure they could have a red alert in the middle of nowhere, in all the vastness of space, having come across nothing for weeks, and something would interrupt them.
***
The crisis had turned out to be nothing in the end, which only made him more angry. Spock had been called away at such a poignant moment-- the moment McCoy might have finally been able to get through to him. After everything had settled down again, McCoy had comm'ed him and asked if he could meet him for dinner in his quarters.
Spock arrived exactly on the hour, as usual. McCoy wanted to kiss him, but there was still an air of tension that remained between them, so he compromised by quickly and lightly brushing his fingers against Spock's, the equivalent of a Vulcan kiss on the cheek.
"Good evening, Leonard," Spock said. "I trust the rest of alpha shift was uneventful for you after the red alert was cancelled?"
"Yeah, everyone's healthy. So I started taking inventory of supplies, making a list of what we might need from the next starbase we happen upon."
Spock just nodded once in acknowledgment, took his seat at the table McCoy had prepared, and started on the soup appetizer. McCoy tried to get him to tell him anything about the bridge that day, but Vulcans weren't one for small talk, especially over meals, so his answers were perfunctory at best.
They shared some fruit for dessert, and McCoy finally felt it was the right time to broach the subject they hadn't been able to finish earlier.
"So, will you admit you love me now?"
Spock tensed visibly. "I was hoping that receiving your answer via the biochemical reports would be the end of your pursuit in this matter."
McCoy rolled his eyes. For someone so incredibly intelligent, Spock could be incredibly dense on occasion. "I didn't do it for me, Spock. I wanted to show you what love is. So you can see that it not only exists, but that it happens to you, too."
"I see."
"So maybe next time I say it to you, you'll say it back?"
"I require no such declarations, Leonard."
He sighed. "But I've been trying to tell you that I want them."
"Your persistence in this matter is highly illogical, if you are entirely convinced of what I feel. It is unnecessary to seek verbal confirmation for that which is certain."
And that was when McCoy lost all patience.
"I don't understand why you can't just say it if it will make me happy, dammit!" he exploded.
"And I fail to comprehend why you insist upon it so, when you know such is antithetical to my species," Spock said quietly.
McCoy set his jaw stubbornly. Maybe his little hobgoblin had something of a point, but his own point was just as valid. There had to be some sort of compromise on this.
"C'mon, Spock, it's not like I'm going to run off and tell the Vulcan High Council you confessed an emotion to me. I'm not even asking you to say it every day, or every time we have sex. Just every once in a while. Great while, even, if that's all you can handle."
Spock remained silent.
"Seriously, Spock? What about once?"
The Vulcan merely cast his eyes to his plate.
"Not even once, ever?"
McCoy threw down his fork and stood up, perversely satisfied with the way Spock appeared to flinch ever so slightly at the loud metallic clang.
"I don't know if I can stay with someone who can't even do a little give and take, Spock."
That made Spock meet his eyes, and McCoy was surprised to see a glint of sadness in the dark brown eyes.
"Perhaps you forget, Leonard," Spock spoke softly, "that I submitted willingly to your experiment. Perhaps it is I who cannot be with a partner who has seen the same conclusive scientific evidence of my..." Spock hesitated a moment before continuing, "... feelings... and cannot be content with that knowledge alone, and additionally wishes to place faulty importance on verbiage, which is so often falsified amongst your species, and consider such to be in higher regard than any of the multitude of actions on my part which are the equivalent."
McCoy crossed his arms and stepped back from the table, pacing while he took a moment to digest and translate the Spock-speak. Maybe it was true that, in Spock's case, actions spoke louder than words and showing him he loved him was the same as telling him. He didn't doubt him, but he didn't know if that was enough.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice that Spock was now standing behind him. In an unusually forward gesture of affection, Spock rested his chin on his shoulder, pressed the side of his face against his, and lightly took a hold of his hips. Spock was affectionate toward him, but he seemed to often only feel comfortable doing so after McCoy had first initiated the physical contact, sexual or otherwise.
"I do not wish to terminate our relationship," Spock murmured, "... nor cease our sexual relations." The last bit was said with as much of a hint of sexual suggestion as a Vulcan's voice would ever get.
Manipulative bastard. McCoy leaned into the touch, having greatly missed it over the past week.
He could figure it all out after some sex, couldn't he?
He turned around and took Spock's face in his hands, kissing him while his fingers played along the tips of his ears. Spock, eagerness apparent, kissed him back, seizing his lower lip firmly.
After a minute, McCoy broke away. "You know this doesn't mean you won, though, right?"
"Indeed," was the reply, though it didn't sound very convincing, and McCoy was nudged toward the bed.
"Take turns tonight?" he asked Spock while he worked on the fastening of his pants. Spock found it difficult to come without penetrating, so unless they had time for an hour or more of foreplay to build up his arousal enough, Spock was usually on top. If McCoy felt like fucking him, McCoy was on top until he was close enough that he could come from being fucked by Spock, and then they switched.
Spock made an agreeable noise to the suggestion, getting both of their shirts off quickly. They tumbled back onto the bed; Spock immediately pushed him onto his back, slipped two fingers into his mouth, and then licked a stripe up his cock.
McCoy's tongue obligingly mimicked whatever Spock's tongue did to him. Spock caught on to the game quickly, sucking him hard when he wanted the same done to his fingers.
It wasn't long, however, before McCoy turned the tables, stopped following Spock's lead, and instead gently bit the pads of his fingers.
Spock glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow, as if silently saying, Really?. He pulled his fingers out of McCoy's mouth... then very lightly scraped his teeth up his shaft.
McCoy cried out at the unexpected intensity of the sensation, his hips jerking in pleasure. Spock repeated the motion, pinning his hips down with one hand, and this time McCoy shuddered with the effort of holding back a rapidly building orgasm.
"That's too much, Spock," he groaned, "I'm not used to going a week without sex anymore."
"You were the one who indicated such an action should be taken," came the reply, and McCoy couldn't help but pinch the tip of an ear at the retort, even though it was true. He enjoyed one last slow swirl of Spock's tongue before gently tugging on that ear and bringing him up for a human kiss.
"Roll over," he murmured, breaking the kiss, and took the momentary pause as an opportunity to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside. When he turned back, Spock had indeed moved to lay on his back, with the wet fingers McCoy had been sucking on now buried in his own ass. The sight made McCoy’s breath catch.
It was going to be a miracle if he lasted five seconds inside Spock.
Perilously close to coming, he watched Spock prepare himself for another minute, carefully spreading lube on his own cock in the meantime. Spock intently watched him stroke himself, until McCoy couldn't stand it any longer-- he had to fuck him right then. He settled between Spock's legs, quickly rubbing a dab of lube onto Spock before pressing inside in one smooth stroke, the Vulcan's muscles relaxed enough to allow it easily.
"God, Spock," he panted, unable to move, not even a little bit, for fear it would all be over. And he didn't want it to be over, he wanted to fuck Spock so hard, wanted to get him to a place where he'd scream that he loved him, just like McCoy had done that first time some months ago. But he was close, so close, and despite the green flush across Spock's chest that meant he was highly aroused as well, Spock waited patiently for him to collect himself.
Finally, he felt like he could move without losing control. He moved over Spock, pressing their bodies together, kissing him as they found their rhythm. One of Spock's hands drifted over McCoy’s body, while the other found its way to his ass, fingers slicked with lube to prepare him for Spock's turn.
McCoy moaned as a finger wiggled its way inside, then stayed still so that each time he thrust into Spock, and pulled back, he fucked himself on his finger. It was good, too good really, and when Spock added another finger and brushed his prostate, McCoy nearly yelped.
"Careful!" he warned. "Don't make me come, I'm not done fucking you yet."
McCoy could have sworn there was the slightest smirk on Spock's face. "My apologies, Leonard."
He just growled and thrust into him harder. Spock kept working his ass while he struggled to keep up the pace without falling over the edge. It wasn't long, though, before he realized he'd allowed himself to get much too close to the point of no return. "Spock!" he gasped, "I can't...."
Spock suddenly, swiftly pushed him off, was behind him in an instant and pressed him face-down into the bed. It only took five good, deep strokes, each one pushing his trapped cock against the mattress, before McCoy screamed his release. Spock followed him a second after, dragging McCoy's hips up flush against his while he came.
McCoy moaned with utter satisfaction when Spock let go of his hips, dropping him back against the bed, and nearly collapsed on top of him. He felt the Vulcan settle over his back with his body, cautiously resting only as much weight as McCoy liked to bear.
He sighed contentedly. "You know," he drawled, not even knowing if Spock would be able to understand a word of it with his mouth still against the bed, "you're gonna be the one to change these sheets since you made me come all over them."
"You were displeased with the position I selected?" There was a hint of amusement in Spock’s voice.
"I didn't say that."
Lips caressed McCoy’s shoulder in feather light kisses, then, shockingly, but not unpleasantly, he felt teeth press into his skin... not hard enough to draw blood, but likely hard enough to leave a bit of a mark. He found he liked the idea, but Spock had never even so much as nipped him before tonight. Maybe he'd started the whole thing when he'd used his teeth on Spock's fingers.
"What is that about?" McCoy chuckled lazily, curious to know what had suddenly come over Spock.
"I believe you could classify it as a... love bite," Spock answered.
McCoy smiled. Maybe that was as close as Spock would ever get to telling him he loved him. And, maybe, that was enough.
THE END.
Art by Orphica except where otherwise noted.
Author: orphica
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spock refuses to admit he feels love, but McCoy is determined to show him he does. Originally written for the st_respect prompt, ""No, this trick won't work...How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as love?" -Einstein"
Word Count: 4500
Thank you to my beta and artist contributor, vail_kagami
Author Notes: Normally I don't like to illustrate fic, but it was recommended for the challenge, and thus it is so.
This drawing by the wonderful vail_kagami
***
He wasn't much of a morning person, but good, slow sex was worth waking up for.
McCoy squeezed the fingers that were currently wrapped around his, knowing how much that turned his partner on. In return, Spock thrust into him harder, though it was difficult in their current position: lying on their sides, Spock wrapped around him, his free hand curled around his cock.
The slight increase in pace was all McCoy needed. He came with a grunt, spilling over Spock's fist. Spock followed suit, never vocal, but the shuddering of his body and the sudden, nearly painful grip on McCoy's fingers gave his orgasm away.
McCoy let out a long, contented sigh when Spock rested his forehead against the back of his neck and held him tightly around the waist without withdrawing from his body.
"I love you, Spock."
It was the fifth time he'd said this particular phrase to Spock.
The first time had been after a truly earth-shattering orgasm that would have made any man profess the world to his lover. Spock had said nothing, and McCoy had been embarrassed at letting it slip, so he'd been grateful they could both ignore it.
The second time had happened in much the same way, with the same result.
The third time had happened when Spock had come back from an away mission, injured. After slapping him in the attempt to break him out of the healing trance, McCoy had been so goddamn happy to see him come back that he'd kissed him and murmured those words, along with threats to never, ever try and single-handedly take on any saber-toothed creature ever again.
The fourth time had been when McCoy had been given a birthday gift of fresh peaches. It had been casual, almost offhand, more of an expression of thanks and delight than any confession needing a response.
In all those times, it hadn't bothered him that Spock had said nothing. But now, this was the fifth time, in a circumstance that highly lent itself to having the sentiment returned. And McCoy suddenly realized that he very much wanted to hear Spock say it.
"Spock?"
"Yes, Leonard?" His voice had the deep, lazy quality it often took on post-coital.
"Did you hear what--"
Spock interrupted him. "I have no auditory disabilities."
"But you weren't even going to acknowledge I said anything?"
"I was not aware your statement required acknowledgement."
McCoy nearly snorted. Ah, the frustrations of being with a Vulcan. He wouldn't go so far as to say it was one of the reasons he loved him, but he was certainly used to it and could, most of the time, look past it. "It's customary to say how you feel back."
"And what if the other does not feel?"
McCoy sighed. "Don't pretend like that with me, Spock. I know you feel things."
"I am not certain I can reciprocate in the manner you seem to desire."
His affection and tolerance toward his lover's penchant for emotional denial faded quickly. "So... you're not going to say anything back."
"I believe it would be deliberately deceiving."
McCoy felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. "So, right now, when you still have your cock in my ass, after some incredible, loving sex, which we've been having for six months, you won't even admit you love me?"
"One cannot admit what one does not feel."
"Are you saying that you don't love me? Not at all?" He pushed Spock away from him at that, rolled off the bed and began gathering his clothes off the floor.
"Leonard, I greatly enjoy our sexual relations, as well as spending time with you in a non-sexual manner. But I do not understand love."
"Hell, nobody understands love, Spock!" McCoy exclaimed loudly, losing control of the volume of his voice. "You just know when you have it!"
Spock just looked at him solemnly. "I can define many emotions I experience while I am in your presence. But I have not read a definition of love that encompasses these emotions."
"You must love me, Spock, I know you do. The way you act toward me, the way we are together... I don't care if what you feel doesn't perfectly describe what's in the dictionary, I just want to hear it sometimes."
"Love is an illogical emotion, given that it cannot be precisely defined, and therefore I do not possess such."
It was that statement that made McCoy growl with fury, pull on his uniform as fast as he could, and rush to sickbay without even showering.
***
McCoy busied himself that day with tasks he normally left to his nurses, since sickbay was currently devoid of patients due to the time that had passed since an away mission, and his diligence on vaccinations for the crew. His staff knew him well enough to sense his mood, didn't protest the takeover of their duties, and steered well clear of him.
Per usual, Jim came down to visit him during his lunch break, greeting him with a clap on the back. McCoy just glared at him in return.
"What? What's got you grumpier than usual today?"
"Nothing." He really wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it. Not when the rejection was still so fresh and raw.
"C'mon, Bones, you can't fool me. Spill it."
McCoy hesitated. He didn't want to sound all sappy, but Jim had the tendency to swiftly fall head over heals for people (and aliens) often enough that he'd probably sympathize.
"I told Spock I love him. And then I asked him how he felt."
Understanding quickly passed over Jim's visage. "Ohhhh. And let me guess, Spock said something Spock-ish back."
"If you call, 'Love is an illogical emotion and therefore I do not possess such' Spock-ish, then yeah, he did."
Jim winced. "Ouch. Sorry, Bones."
"I'm being stupid though, aren't I?" He shook his head, suddenly not even sure what possessed him to think he could wrangle such a confession out of someone like Spock. "What else do you expect from a Vulcan?"
"Not your fault, Bones. You couldn't have known. I mean, Lady Amanda didn't seem like the type to marry someone that didn't love her. Ambassador Sarek must have said he did."
"S'pose so." He sighed. He really was crazy to have expected anything more from Spock.
Jim put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Well, I gotta get back to the bridge. But if you want me to come over after my shift and help you refill your whiskey glass when you're too drunk to do it yourself, just lemme know, 'kay?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Jim."
Maybe he was crazy, but McCoy knew one thing about himself -- he could be just as stubborn as a damn Vulcan could, and he was gonna get Spock to admit he loved him if it was the last thing he did.
***
McCoy skipped the drink with Jim, instead deciding to turn in early, emotional exhaustion taking its toll. He got ready for bed, pulling out an old t-shirt and boxers to sleep in for the first time in a good while. Traveling long distances in space, star-mapping, not coming across any habitable planet in over a month meant no opportunities for landing parties, and thus he and Spock had been free to spend every night together. (Jim had slyly and discreetly arranged their shift schedules to match.) McCoy had slept sexually satiated and naked for the past three weeks.
Spock came to his room that night, acting as if everything was normal... as if they hadn’t had a major fight. Sure, they bickered and argued over small, ultimately inconsequential things all the time, that was their thing, after all, and though McCoy would probably never admit it to Jim, it was something like foreplay to them. If they got riled up enough at each other, rough, hot sex was sure to follow that night.
Yet, this time, McCoy was still too pissed at Spock to welcome any of the Vulcan’s advances.
"Is reconciliatory intercourse not our customary activity following a disagreement?" Spock asked, seemingly confused when McCoy turned his head away from a kiss.
"This time it's different, Spock." He wasn't going to reward Spock's 'love is illogical' argument with sex, as if their argument today was like any other and it didn't matter.
Spock backed away to sit in the desk chair; his posture seemingly even more straight and formal than usual, if that were possible. "You are genuinely disturbed by what I have said earlier this morning."
"What, did you think I was kidding?" he snapped, his irritation growing even further.
Spock's lips tightened before answering, "I did not. It was not my intention to belittle your sentiments."
"Look, Spock, I don't think you're so inept with human traditions to know that telling someone you love them is a big deal. And you're half-human, too, dammit, even if you're still green and your physical heart is in a different place. I don't know where your metaphorical heart is."
Spock was silent for a moment before he said, "I believe it may be beneficial if we continue this discussion at a later time. I will go."
"You can't just avoid this, you know," he insisted.
But the Vulcan just stood up, adjusted his shirt, and turned on his heels toward the door.
***
McCoy moped in his office over the next few days. Things hadn't gotten better with Spock, and it turned out that the Vulcan could avoid talking with him if he were determined to. Thus, they'd both been sleeping in their respective quarters, alone, and barely spoke to each other throughout the day unless their work called for it.
But McCoy didn't want to budge on this. Oh, he knew that Spock would never be the first to give in, never. So it would be up to him to try and convince him otherwise. There had to be some way to get Spock to understand that love was a true and valid thing, not just some emotion, and there wasn't any harm in admitting it. There had to be some scientific way he could prove to Spock that love was real.
There had to be a way. And then something occurred to him -- the Enterprise had great medical and scientific equipment. Maybe, just maybe, Spock would agree to a brain scan, and if he could see, if he could actually see the biochemical processes of love, then that would be something the science officer could comprehend.
He pressed the intercom button. "McCoy to bridge."
"Spock here."
"Spock, can you come down to sickbay when you have a free moment? There's something I'd like your expertise on."
"Certainly, Doctor."
Well. He'd give it his best shot, in any case.
***
"What is the matter in which I can assist you, Doctor?" Spock asked as soon as he'd made it down to sickbay.
"It's kinda... unofficial, off the records."
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"I came up with a little... experiment I was hoping you'd participate in."
Spock glanced around without moving his head. "I believe I have exhaustively elucidated my position on sexual activity outside of our quarters," he spoke quietly.
McCoy huffed. "That's not what I meant! I swear, Spock, you think about sex more than Jim sometimes!"
Looking offended, Spock protested, "I hardly would compare --"
"Nevermind, Spock. Mostly not what I meant," he conceded. "I guess there might be a… slightly sexual aspect to it after all. But it'll all be in the name of science," he added with a grin.
Spock just looked at him, bemused and suspicious.
"Over here," McCoy said, gesturing to a scanning station. "I've set it up so we can scan our brainwaves and measure various hormones released in response to various stimuli."
Spock cocked his head dubiously. "For what purpose?"
"I want you to see what my brain looks like, what happens biochemically when I think about you... when I kiss you."
McCoy only got a furrowed forehead from him in response. "I am familiar with a great deal of human biochemistry. I do not see the necessity in this demonstration."
"Ah, but here's the catch... then we'll scan you and compare to me, and we'll see if your brain goes through the same processes mine does. I skimmed through some Vulcan medical literature, but you guys are so stingy with what you'll publish outside of Vulcan that we'll just have to do our own hands-on research."
"Very well."
"Really? You'll do it?"
"That is what I said."
McCoy grinned. "All right."
He laid down on the biobed, settling himself so that he was comfortable. Spock was familiar enough with the equipment that guiding him through the setup was simple.
"Okay. I'm going to think about the first time we kissed."
He thought of many different things, then asked Spock to kiss him. He thought it might be helpful track their orgasmic responses, but there was no way he wanted to risk getting caught doing anything like that, so Spock would just have to believe the rest of the human medical literature in that regard.
Then it was Spock's turn. "Think about the first time we kissed," McCoy commanded him softly.
Sure enough, the same areas that had lit up in his own brain lit up in Spock's. "Think about the first time we had sex."
"Think about the time you saved me in the gladiator ring."
He gave him a few more scenarios, pleased to see that the similarities and differences in their brainwave responses were just as he'd expected.
Knowing kisses on the lips didn't really do a whole lot for Spock, McCoy picked up his hand and caressed his fingers. He kept up with it long enough that Spock's respiratory rate began to increase, and he grew half-erect.
Not wanting to make him uncomfortable or unnecessarily tease him, McCoy was satisfied he had the data he needed. He punched a few commands into the computer, until both their readings were displayed side by side on the screen.
McCoy pulled up their hormone and neurotransmitter reports, singling out the oxytocin and vasopressin surges. "They're of similar composition to mine," McCoy explained, "and allowing for a bit of chemical and structural differences for the Vulcan in you, it would seem that you have the same chemical responses that I do. Look here at the ventral pallidum and your equivalent of the hypothalamus."
"This is not terribly new information, Doctor."
"Yes, but do you see, Spock? When we brought up the same memories, our scans are remarkably similar. Which means that if I know I'm feeling love, you must be feeling the same. What you're looking at is proof that you love me."
Spock just stared at the screen. He looked as if he might be about to say something, when, suddenly, the red alert sounded. "Spock to the bridge!" Sulu's voice rang out over the com.
Spock dashed out without a word.
It would figure they could have a red alert in the middle of nowhere, in all the vastness of space, having come across nothing for weeks, and something would interrupt them.
***
The crisis had turned out to be nothing in the end, which only made him more angry. Spock had been called away at such a poignant moment-- the moment McCoy might have finally been able to get through to him. After everything had settled down again, McCoy had comm'ed him and asked if he could meet him for dinner in his quarters.
Spock arrived exactly on the hour, as usual. McCoy wanted to kiss him, but there was still an air of tension that remained between them, so he compromised by quickly and lightly brushing his fingers against Spock's, the equivalent of a Vulcan kiss on the cheek.
"Good evening, Leonard," Spock said. "I trust the rest of alpha shift was uneventful for you after the red alert was cancelled?"
"Yeah, everyone's healthy. So I started taking inventory of supplies, making a list of what we might need from the next starbase we happen upon."
Spock just nodded once in acknowledgment, took his seat at the table McCoy had prepared, and started on the soup appetizer. McCoy tried to get him to tell him anything about the bridge that day, but Vulcans weren't one for small talk, especially over meals, so his answers were perfunctory at best.
They shared some fruit for dessert, and McCoy finally felt it was the right time to broach the subject they hadn't been able to finish earlier.
"So, will you admit you love me now?"
Spock tensed visibly. "I was hoping that receiving your answer via the biochemical reports would be the end of your pursuit in this matter."
McCoy rolled his eyes. For someone so incredibly intelligent, Spock could be incredibly dense on occasion. "I didn't do it for me, Spock. I wanted to show you what love is. So you can see that it not only exists, but that it happens to you, too."
"I see."
"So maybe next time I say it to you, you'll say it back?"
"I require no such declarations, Leonard."
He sighed. "But I've been trying to tell you that I want them."
"Your persistence in this matter is highly illogical, if you are entirely convinced of what I feel. It is unnecessary to seek verbal confirmation for that which is certain."
And that was when McCoy lost all patience.
"I don't understand why you can't just say it if it will make me happy, dammit!" he exploded.
"And I fail to comprehend why you insist upon it so, when you know such is antithetical to my species," Spock said quietly.
McCoy set his jaw stubbornly. Maybe his little hobgoblin had something of a point, but his own point was just as valid. There had to be some sort of compromise on this.
"C'mon, Spock, it's not like I'm going to run off and tell the Vulcan High Council you confessed an emotion to me. I'm not even asking you to say it every day, or every time we have sex. Just every once in a while. Great while, even, if that's all you can handle."
Spock remained silent.
"Seriously, Spock? What about once?"
The Vulcan merely cast his eyes to his plate.
"Not even once, ever?"
McCoy threw down his fork and stood up, perversely satisfied with the way Spock appeared to flinch ever so slightly at the loud metallic clang.
"I don't know if I can stay with someone who can't even do a little give and take, Spock."
That made Spock meet his eyes, and McCoy was surprised to see a glint of sadness in the dark brown eyes.
"Perhaps you forget, Leonard," Spock spoke softly, "that I submitted willingly to your experiment. Perhaps it is I who cannot be with a partner who has seen the same conclusive scientific evidence of my..." Spock hesitated a moment before continuing, "... feelings... and cannot be content with that knowledge alone, and additionally wishes to place faulty importance on verbiage, which is so often falsified amongst your species, and consider such to be in higher regard than any of the multitude of actions on my part which are the equivalent."
McCoy crossed his arms and stepped back from the table, pacing while he took a moment to digest and translate the Spock-speak. Maybe it was true that, in Spock's case, actions spoke louder than words and showing him he loved him was the same as telling him. He didn't doubt him, but he didn't know if that was enough.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice that Spock was now standing behind him. In an unusually forward gesture of affection, Spock rested his chin on his shoulder, pressed the side of his face against his, and lightly took a hold of his hips. Spock was affectionate toward him, but he seemed to often only feel comfortable doing so after McCoy had first initiated the physical contact, sexual or otherwise.
"I do not wish to terminate our relationship," Spock murmured, "... nor cease our sexual relations." The last bit was said with as much of a hint of sexual suggestion as a Vulcan's voice would ever get.
Manipulative bastard. McCoy leaned into the touch, having greatly missed it over the past week.
He could figure it all out after some sex, couldn't he?
He turned around and took Spock's face in his hands, kissing him while his fingers played along the tips of his ears. Spock, eagerness apparent, kissed him back, seizing his lower lip firmly.
After a minute, McCoy broke away. "You know this doesn't mean you won, though, right?"
"Indeed," was the reply, though it didn't sound very convincing, and McCoy was nudged toward the bed.
"Take turns tonight?" he asked Spock while he worked on the fastening of his pants. Spock found it difficult to come without penetrating, so unless they had time for an hour or more of foreplay to build up his arousal enough, Spock was usually on top. If McCoy felt like fucking him, McCoy was on top until he was close enough that he could come from being fucked by Spock, and then they switched.
Spock made an agreeable noise to the suggestion, getting both of their shirts off quickly. They tumbled back onto the bed; Spock immediately pushed him onto his back, slipped two fingers into his mouth, and then licked a stripe up his cock.
McCoy's tongue obligingly mimicked whatever Spock's tongue did to him. Spock caught on to the game quickly, sucking him hard when he wanted the same done to his fingers.
It wasn't long, however, before McCoy turned the tables, stopped following Spock's lead, and instead gently bit the pads of his fingers.
Spock glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow, as if silently saying, Really?. He pulled his fingers out of McCoy's mouth... then very lightly scraped his teeth up his shaft.
McCoy cried out at the unexpected intensity of the sensation, his hips jerking in pleasure. Spock repeated the motion, pinning his hips down with one hand, and this time McCoy shuddered with the effort of holding back a rapidly building orgasm.
"That's too much, Spock," he groaned, "I'm not used to going a week without sex anymore."
"You were the one who indicated such an action should be taken," came the reply, and McCoy couldn't help but pinch the tip of an ear at the retort, even though it was true. He enjoyed one last slow swirl of Spock's tongue before gently tugging on that ear and bringing him up for a human kiss.
"Roll over," he murmured, breaking the kiss, and took the momentary pause as an opportunity to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside. When he turned back, Spock had indeed moved to lay on his back, with the wet fingers McCoy had been sucking on now buried in his own ass. The sight made McCoy’s breath catch.
It was going to be a miracle if he lasted five seconds inside Spock.
Perilously close to coming, he watched Spock prepare himself for another minute, carefully spreading lube on his own cock in the meantime. Spock intently watched him stroke himself, until McCoy couldn't stand it any longer-- he had to fuck him right then. He settled between Spock's legs, quickly rubbing a dab of lube onto Spock before pressing inside in one smooth stroke, the Vulcan's muscles relaxed enough to allow it easily.
"God, Spock," he panted, unable to move, not even a little bit, for fear it would all be over. And he didn't want it to be over, he wanted to fuck Spock so hard, wanted to get him to a place where he'd scream that he loved him, just like McCoy had done that first time some months ago. But he was close, so close, and despite the green flush across Spock's chest that meant he was highly aroused as well, Spock waited patiently for him to collect himself.
Finally, he felt like he could move without losing control. He moved over Spock, pressing their bodies together, kissing him as they found their rhythm. One of Spock's hands drifted over McCoy’s body, while the other found its way to his ass, fingers slicked with lube to prepare him for Spock's turn.
McCoy moaned as a finger wiggled its way inside, then stayed still so that each time he thrust into Spock, and pulled back, he fucked himself on his finger. It was good, too good really, and when Spock added another finger and brushed his prostate, McCoy nearly yelped.
"Careful!" he warned. "Don't make me come, I'm not done fucking you yet."
McCoy could have sworn there was the slightest smirk on Spock's face. "My apologies, Leonard."
He just growled and thrust into him harder. Spock kept working his ass while he struggled to keep up the pace without falling over the edge. It wasn't long, though, before he realized he'd allowed himself to get much too close to the point of no return. "Spock!" he gasped, "I can't...."
Spock suddenly, swiftly pushed him off, was behind him in an instant and pressed him face-down into the bed. It only took five good, deep strokes, each one pushing his trapped cock against the mattress, before McCoy screamed his release. Spock followed him a second after, dragging McCoy's hips up flush against his while he came.
McCoy moaned with utter satisfaction when Spock let go of his hips, dropping him back against the bed, and nearly collapsed on top of him. He felt the Vulcan settle over his back with his body, cautiously resting only as much weight as McCoy liked to bear.
He sighed contentedly. "You know," he drawled, not even knowing if Spock would be able to understand a word of it with his mouth still against the bed, "you're gonna be the one to change these sheets since you made me come all over them."
"You were displeased with the position I selected?" There was a hint of amusement in Spock’s voice.
"I didn't say that."
Lips caressed McCoy’s shoulder in feather light kisses, then, shockingly, but not unpleasantly, he felt teeth press into his skin... not hard enough to draw blood, but likely hard enough to leave a bit of a mark. He found he liked the idea, but Spock had never even so much as nipped him before tonight. Maybe he'd started the whole thing when he'd used his teeth on Spock's fingers.
"What is that about?" McCoy chuckled lazily, curious to know what had suddenly come over Spock.
"I believe you could classify it as a... love bite," Spock answered.
McCoy smiled. Maybe that was as close as Spock would ever get to telling him he loved him. And, maybe, that was enough.
THE END.
Art by Orphica except where otherwise noted.