SHIP WARS: TEAM SPONES: PROMPT 3 ENTRY
Title: Impossibility
Ship: Spock/McCoy
Author: mrasaki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings:
Disclaimer: 99 problems and ownership ain't one.
Leonard was putting the final corrections on a report to Starfleet
High Command, when shock filtered through his bond with Spock.
He looked up. Spock had stiffened, staring down at their chess game.
“What?” Leonard asked, alarmed.
Spock made a strangled noise. “You have achieved…checkmate.”
“I did what?” Leonard examined the board closely for a long moment,
then tipped a wide grin at Spock’s stunned face. “Well, hell. Looks
like I have.” The victory would’ve been sweeter had he actually been
paying attention or even trying, instead of just moving pieces
absentmindedly at random or out of the way, but hell, Leonard took his
victories over Spock where he could and didn’t quibble about the whys
or wherefores.
“Impossible.” Spock blinked hard, as if to clear his vision. “Wait. Let me-”
“Hey now,” Leonard protested, smacking Spock’s hand away from the
board. “How many times’ve you told me there’re no do-overs?”
Spock peered-no, that was a glare, Leonard corrected himself-up at him
through his lashes, strain showing in the green pulse of a vein in his
forehead. “But-”
“Don’t pout at me,” Leonard shook his padd at him, making sure Spock
caught every nuance of smug satisfaction in his tone. “You’re just mad
I won.” For the first time ever, too. Damn, that felt good. Jim
could hold his own against Spock, but Leonard only played because
Spock had made a pet project of improving Leonard’s admittedly dismal
chess skills and made him play.
Spock’s finely sculpted nostrils flared, his eyebrows lowering. “I do
not ‘pout.’”
Leonard caught his breath at the danger in Spock’s eyes, heavy heat
blooming deep in his gut even as he kept the smirk pasted on his face.
“Whatever, you sore loser,” he said in a low drawl. Spock’s eyes
snapped up to his, eyes widening as he caught the undertone to the
insult, thick with promise and sex.
Leonard arched an eyebrow at him, challengingly. Checkmate again. He
could get used to this.
He had just enough time to save the work on his padd before Spock got
over his surprise. Long-boned hands clenched in the front of his
uniform shirt then, dragging him forward into a bruising kiss as waves
of frustration and arousal pounded at Leonard through their bond.
You’re easier to emotionally compromise than I thought, he
thought at Spock, layering the observation with humor and affection. A
growled response, then he was shoved backwards, his chair tipping
over, chess pieces falling around him like rain.
Seams gave with a burring tear as those strong hands, still fisted
into his uniform, jerked him up, but he hit the floor anyway with
enough force to drive the wind out of his lungs. He mouthed a curse
before Spock pressed him into the floor and silenced him with two
fingers against his lips, a hot, dry touch that shushed Leonard as
effectively as kissing him.
The other hand finished what the fall had started, tearing Leonard’s
uniform off him as easily as tissue paper in violent, graceless yanks.
Anger over his uniform was impossible as Spock’s mind slid white-hot
against his, Leonard’s bemused disbelief that he’d won overlaid
against Spock’s indignant disbelief that he’d lost, Leonard instantly
overwhelmed by the tide of searing lust mingled with thoughts of chess
and impossibilities broadcast at him by Spock.
Leonard laughed breathlessly, high on endorphins-only Spock would
associate chess and calculations with sex-arching up into merciless,
kneading hands and sucking kisses, then he reached down and palmed
over the hard bulge trapped against his thigh. Spock gasped against
where he’d been mouthing wet and messy against the stubble of
Leonard’s throat, and his thumbs dug suddenly into the soft flesh of
Leonard’s belly.
Get your goddamned pants off, one or the other of them said
unsteadily, and the other chuckled, pleasure lying in sun-yellow
stripes along the grooves of their minds, echoed and magnified between
their two halves.
Spock’s hands combed restlessly through Leonard’s hair, rubbed along
his shoulders, as Leonard slicked and spread him, his normally ascetic
mouth soft and moist. Damn if Leonard knew how Spock had ended up on
his back, but it was a trivial detail with Spock beautiful beneath
Leonard’s hands, pale skin against the gray synthetic carpet, all lean
lines and angled planes, eyes and eyebrows a dark smear above a green
flush burning across sweat-sheened cheekbones.
He was tight and hot around Leonard, writhing up into every thrust
with minute, barely-controlled movements, his rapid breath puffing
moist against Leonard’s cheek as he leaned in to kiss him. Leonard
couldn’t seem to catch his breath, driving in and out of that welcome
heat, feeling the hummingbird flutter of Spock’s pulse under his skin,
their minds blinkering together in perfect synch as Spock scrubbed his
hand up Leonard’s cheek and brushed the meld-points with trembling
fingertips.
“Leonard,” Spock breathed like a prayer as Leonard reached down and
stroked him, his cock like a brand in Leonard’s hand. His name on
Spock’s lips, the undone look on Spock’s face, the Vulcan calm
completely shattered, yanked Leonard’s orgasm out of him, white-hot
and ecstatic. The breaking wave of Spock’s answering climax flared
over their bond, a powerful, secondary echo, and Leonard groaned and
closed his eyes.
“I should beat you at chess more often,” He mumbled some minutes
later, fighting the syrupy languor and sheer mental exhaustion that
came with melded sex. The uncomfortable lumps of chess pieces under
his side helped.
“The likelihood of your accidentally defeating me again is less than
1.565%,” Spock said primly. “With proper vigilance on my part, that
probability will be further diminished.”
“Uh huh,” Leonard said, rolling his eyes, and slid his thumb down into
the slick wetness between Spock’s legs and probed the swollen hole
there. Spock’s sentence cracked in half. “You were saying?”
“I-This is unworthy of you.”
“Sore loser.” He crooked his finger just a little.
“Per-ah-perhaps I could let you win. Sometimes.”
Leonard hummed in satisfaction. “Now you’re learning.”
Ship: Spock/McCoy
Author: mrasaki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings:
Disclaimer: 99 problems and ownership ain't one.
Leonard was putting the final corrections on a report to Starfleet
High Command, when shock filtered through his bond with Spock.
He looked up. Spock had stiffened, staring down at their chess game.
“What?” Leonard asked, alarmed.
Spock made a strangled noise. “You have achieved…checkmate.”
“I did what?” Leonard examined the board closely for a long moment,
then tipped a wide grin at Spock’s stunned face. “Well, hell. Looks
like I have.” The victory would’ve been sweeter had he actually been
paying attention or even trying, instead of just moving pieces
absentmindedly at random or out of the way, but hell, Leonard took his
victories over Spock where he could and didn’t quibble about the whys
or wherefores.
“Impossible.” Spock blinked hard, as if to clear his vision. “Wait. Let me-”
“Hey now,” Leonard protested, smacking Spock’s hand away from the
board. “How many times’ve you told me there’re no do-overs?”
Spock peered-no, that was a glare, Leonard corrected himself-up at him
through his lashes, strain showing in the green pulse of a vein in his
forehead. “But-”
“Don’t pout at me,” Leonard shook his padd at him, making sure Spock
caught every nuance of smug satisfaction in his tone. “You’re just mad
I won.” For the first time ever, too. Damn, that felt good. Jim
could hold his own against Spock, but Leonard only played because
Spock had made a pet project of improving Leonard’s admittedly dismal
chess skills and made him play.
Spock’s finely sculpted nostrils flared, his eyebrows lowering. “I do
not ‘pout.’”
Leonard caught his breath at the danger in Spock’s eyes, heavy heat
blooming deep in his gut even as he kept the smirk pasted on his face.
“Whatever, you sore loser,” he said in a low drawl. Spock’s eyes
snapped up to his, eyes widening as he caught the undertone to the
insult, thick with promise and sex.
Leonard arched an eyebrow at him, challengingly. Checkmate again. He
could get used to this.
He had just enough time to save the work on his padd before Spock got
over his surprise. Long-boned hands clenched in the front of his
uniform shirt then, dragging him forward into a bruising kiss as waves
of frustration and arousal pounded at Leonard through their bond.
You’re easier to emotionally compromise than I thought, he
thought at Spock, layering the observation with humor and affection. A
growled response, then he was shoved backwards, his chair tipping
over, chess pieces falling around him like rain.
Seams gave with a burring tear as those strong hands, still fisted
into his uniform, jerked him up, but he hit the floor anyway with
enough force to drive the wind out of his lungs. He mouthed a curse
before Spock pressed him into the floor and silenced him with two
fingers against his lips, a hot, dry touch that shushed Leonard as
effectively as kissing him.
The other hand finished what the fall had started, tearing Leonard’s
uniform off him as easily as tissue paper in violent, graceless yanks.
Anger over his uniform was impossible as Spock’s mind slid white-hot
against his, Leonard’s bemused disbelief that he’d won overlaid
against Spock’s indignant disbelief that he’d lost, Leonard instantly
overwhelmed by the tide of searing lust mingled with thoughts of chess
and impossibilities broadcast at him by Spock.
Leonard laughed breathlessly, high on endorphins-only Spock would
associate chess and calculations with sex-arching up into merciless,
kneading hands and sucking kisses, then he reached down and palmed
over the hard bulge trapped against his thigh. Spock gasped against
where he’d been mouthing wet and messy against the stubble of
Leonard’s throat, and his thumbs dug suddenly into the soft flesh of
Leonard’s belly.
Get your goddamned pants off, one or the other of them said
unsteadily, and the other chuckled, pleasure lying in sun-yellow
stripes along the grooves of their minds, echoed and magnified between
their two halves.
Spock’s hands combed restlessly through Leonard’s hair, rubbed along
his shoulders, as Leonard slicked and spread him, his normally ascetic
mouth soft and moist. Damn if Leonard knew how Spock had ended up on
his back, but it was a trivial detail with Spock beautiful beneath
Leonard’s hands, pale skin against the gray synthetic carpet, all lean
lines and angled planes, eyes and eyebrows a dark smear above a green
flush burning across sweat-sheened cheekbones.
He was tight and hot around Leonard, writhing up into every thrust
with minute, barely-controlled movements, his rapid breath puffing
moist against Leonard’s cheek as he leaned in to kiss him. Leonard
couldn’t seem to catch his breath, driving in and out of that welcome
heat, feeling the hummingbird flutter of Spock’s pulse under his skin,
their minds blinkering together in perfect synch as Spock scrubbed his
hand up Leonard’s cheek and brushed the meld-points with trembling
fingertips.
“Leonard,” Spock breathed like a prayer as Leonard reached down and
stroked him, his cock like a brand in Leonard’s hand. His name on
Spock’s lips, the undone look on Spock’s face, the Vulcan calm
completely shattered, yanked Leonard’s orgasm out of him, white-hot
and ecstatic. The breaking wave of Spock’s answering climax flared
over their bond, a powerful, secondary echo, and Leonard groaned and
closed his eyes.
“I should beat you at chess more often,” He mumbled some minutes
later, fighting the syrupy languor and sheer mental exhaustion that
came with melded sex. The uncomfortable lumps of chess pieces under
his side helped.
“The likelihood of your accidentally defeating me again is less than
1.565%,” Spock said primly. “With proper vigilance on my part, that
probability will be further diminished.”
“Uh huh,” Leonard said, rolling his eyes, and slid his thumb down into
the slick wetness between Spock’s legs and probed the swollen hole
there. Spock’s sentence cracked in half. “You were saying?”
“I-This is unworthy of you.”
“Sore loser.” He crooked his finger just a little.
“Per-ah-perhaps I could let you win. Sometimes.”
Leonard hummed in satisfaction. “Now you’re learning.”