The BLTS Archive - Talk Dirty To Me
by Lyrastar (watergal@liquidfic.net)

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Warning: for intentional vulgarity

Disclaimer:  The characters and all their nasty, stinking, sweaty
little body parts are the property of Paramount/Viacom.

Archiving: The Coyote den, ASC*, BLTS, and my own site at
www.geocities.com/lyrastarwatcher

Thanks to Dina for so much more than just beta help.

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"You wanted to see me, Captain?"  McCoy sauntered into Kirk's  office.

Kirk got up from his computer and walked to the other side of the
desk.  He looked McCoy dead in the eye.  "I want you to fuck my face
with your sticking shithole."

McCoy cringed.  "Look I--"

Kirk's eyes were steel.  "I'm going to fill your fairy mouth with cum
until your eyeballs spin and it squirts out your nose and then I am
going to start all over again."

McCoy took a step backwards. He was being driven towards the
bedchamber.  He shifted sideways only to find himself now backed up
against the mesh divider.  He tried again for reason.  "Look, you
don't understand--"

Kirk slammed his palms up against the mesh pinning him neatly with
his arms.  His breath burned hot and his eyes blazed, but he kept his
body taut with tightly reigned control.  He separated each word with
staccato precision.  "I want you to put your finger in your own dirty
little fuckhole and lick it off while I watch."

McCoy licked his lips.  "It was a mistake, Jim.  I pushed the wrong
button."

Jim blinked and his eyes froze open in frank incredulity.  "A
mistake!"  He dropped his arms and began to pace in short strides the
length room.  "No, Bones, a mistake is when you want to code
Tarkelian Tea into the food service, but you get Tranya instead.  A
mistake is when you file this quarter's physicals in with the quality
assurance documents and no one can find them." His voice rose to a
crescendo.  "A mistake is when you wear standard uniform instead of
dress uniform to the Admirals' Ball.  But this," Jim gestured at the
computer, "--this is incomprehensible!"

Jim hit a switch on the computer terminal and a plump cock popped
into view.  A distinctive port-wine  stain birthmark was plainly
visible through the sparse black pubic hair.  A weathered hand
reached over and grabbed the cock and, with the skill of a surgeon,
brought it to full tumescence with a few practiced strokes.  The
balls bobbed up and down at the bottom of the screen and the
birthmark peeked and poked out occasionally under the little finger.
The head swelled purple and McCoy's unmistakable drawl was heard
clearly on the recording, 'Yeah baby, take off your clothes.  Bring
that stinking crotch over here and give daddy a big whiff--'

Jim remonstrated, "You sent a video of yourself jerking off to a
nineteen year-old crewman and splattered semen all over your vid
terminal in the process.  Impressive, I'll grant you, but hardly
attributable to just pushing a button."

McCoy had flushed an intriguing shade of plum, a tendency which had
been noted from time to time in the past.  He responded  defensively,
"Of course the recording was intentional, but it wasn't  meant for
Sponovich.  I must have hit the wrong recipient, and I'm  very sorry
about that.  When I realized the error, I left a message  for him to
come directly to sickbay when he got off shift.  I was  hoping I could
get him to erase it unseen, but I take it he saw it  already."

"On his break," Kirk said grimly.  "He came straight up to me and
brought me the clip.  At first, I wondered if it was a practical
joke, but that birthmark--"

On screen, the hand pumped faster.  'Put your finger in your dirty
little shithole and lick it.  Lick it baby.  I'm watching--'

McCoy squirmed in his boots.  "Jim, can you turn that off?  I know
what I said."

"Little late to be worried about modesty, isn't it?" Jim snapped and
let the recording run.

Over the computer speaker, McCoy's voice began to dissolve.  'Fuck my
face.  Fuck my face with your sticking, sweaty, hairy shithole--' A
trace of jism slid from the slit on the screen.  The hand caught it
between its thumb and forefinger and smeared it sensually into the
head.

"No, it was me," Bones sighed and collapsed into the chair.  "And I'm
really sorry."

The computer played on indifferently, 'Oh, yeah!  I'm going to ram my
big, hot rod right up your sorry little poopchute and you're just
going to lie there and take it.'

Kirk snorted sardonically.  "I don't doubt that for a minute."

From the computer there was a guttural sound.  A wad flew through the
air and landed on his thigh.  'Take that, you bitch.  I spit on  you.'
Another spittle flew and the penis oozed some more.  Onscreen  Bones
groaned and clutched at the base of his dick.

Jim turned his chair away from the screen. His face was now also a
fascinating shade of scarlet. McCoy thanked the angels above for the
small mercy, but the reprieve didn't last long.

"So, who is it?"  Jim asked.

"Pardon?" McCoy asked, playing dumb in a desperate but equally futile
dodge for time.  On-screen his semen flew all over the camera lens.

"So who was this intended for?" Jim snapped irritably.

McCoy twisted in his chair.  "Is that really relevant to your
investigation, Captain?  Suffice it to say that we are both adults,
it's been going on for sometime, and no one else has been in here
complaining, have they?"

Kirk stared at him in fatal silence.

And the computer continued to play over it, sealing his fate.   'I'm
going to fuck you with my fingers.  I'm going to rub my cum into your
fuckhole and spank your scrawny little copper-plated ass until it
turns as green as a naked Orion slaveboy--'

"Oh no." Jim stared at him slackjawed.

McCoy prayed with all his might for a priority one signal, or an
intruder alert or anything to get the captain out of here and on to
the bridge, but it did no good.  Rotten time to try to start
believing in miracles.

'I'm going to take those chenesi, squeeze them between my fingers,
and I'm going to do things to them that no one in Vulcan medical
science has even dreamed of yet.'

McCoy scratched his head and stared straight down at his boots.  They
could use a little buff and polish soon, he noted.

Jim jammed the off button with his index finger.

"Bones--not you and Spock?"  Jim's lips flapped, absolutely
nonplussed.

McCoy gestured helplessly with his hands in a silence that spoke
volumes.

Jim burst out into gales of hysterical laughter.  His eyes watered
and he clutched at his side.  "Oh, Bones, you're making this up!"

McCoy scowled at him.  "Captain, if you think I would or COULD make
up a situation as absurd as this, then you have worse problems than I
do right now."

Jim collected himself although tears of hilarity still stood in his
eyes.  "You're right Bones, of course.  But how...I mean...how do
you...I mean who does...I mean...when you...do you...I mean...  How
does it work?"

McCoy blinked at him.  "Did you have another question relevant to
this investigation, Sir?"

Kirk shook his head and blew out a long, slow breath through tightly
pursed lips. "No."  He smiled.  Peace.

McCoy arose.  "I know it looks bad as a senior officer.  I really  do.
I don't understand how I could be so careless, but of course  I'll
take full responsibility.  I'll expect a formal reprimand and  I'll go
apologize to the kid."

Kirk gestured curtly.  "Yes, but let me talk to him first.   On a
mission of galactic exploration we're going to encounter all manner
of beings and things. This," he gestured at the screen, "in the grand
scheme of the universe, is nothing to raise an eyebrow at."

McCoy winced at the expression.

Kirk continued, not entirely oblivious to the reaction his little jab
has caused, "And while I can't say that I prefer to have my Chief
Medical Officer seen in this light, Sponovich took it quite well.  He
was just very surprised, as I take it you don't even know him."

McCoy shook his head.

"So he wondered if I had an explanation.  That's a good thing as, new
or not, I have no room for crewmembers who can't think outside the
box."

Jim continued, "But really, you and Spock?  Oh my--" Kirk bent over
in a string uncontrolled chuckles.

McCoy waited patiently for him to be through.

Kirk straightened at last and pulled his face together.

"Is that all, Captain?" McCoy drawled with deliberation.

"Yes, Bones."  Jim's voice still sniggered through the words.  "But
as for that reprimand, forget it. There was no harm done to anyone
besides yourself and  I think it would be pretty superfluous anyway.
I can't think of a single thing I could put in a formal report that
would hold a candle to what you will have to listen to once news of
this gets around.  Especially from Spock--"  Jim collapsed again into
wave after wave of helpless laughter."

McCoy rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

"Bones."

The crisp command tone caught McCoy by surprise.  He turned.  "Yes,
Captain?"

Out of the blue, all trace of amusement had simple disappeared from
Jim's demeanor.  He caught him by the eye and McCoy felt the change
at once.

"Bones, are you happy? Does he make you happy?"  Jim asked with a
voice earnest with sincerity so sharp it almost hurt to listen to.

Bones paused in the doorway and twenty years fell away from his  face.
"Yes, Jim.  He makes me happier than I ever thought I could be  again.
Maybe happier than I ever thought I deserved to be."

Jim nodded succinctly.  "Good.  Then, that's all.  Say something to
Sponovich after his shift ends at 2000.  Dismissed."  He winked not
unkindly at his old friend and turned back to his desk.

McCoy dashed quickly from the cabin.

Left alone, Jim keyed up the recording again.  For a fraction of a
second his finger hovered over the "store" option, but then he  keyed
"erase" and went on about running his ship.

---

They say that gossip is the only thing that can travel faster than
warp ten, and so McCoy made a beeline for Spock's cabin.

Spock looked up from his computer and blinked. "Doctor, I have
several more hours work to complete.  I was not expecting you until
1900."

"Yeah, well," McCoy hedged, "there's been an incident."

Spock set down his stylus.  "Specify."

"I made you one of those...demonstration videos for you, but
accidentally routed it to the wrong terminal.  An Ensign Sponovich in
geochemistry.  He reported it to Jim--brought him the recording,
actually--"

Spock reclined in his chair.  "I see."

"Yeah, so did Jim. All of it, and one very personal part of me.  And
although your name didn't exactly come up, it was pretty obvious who
it was for.  Jim knows."

"I have never known the captain to be accused of sexual
conservatism," stated Spock primly.

"No, but this means it is officially no longer a secret and there's
no shutting off a rumor mill once it gets flowing.  This'll be all
over the ship by morning.  If it isn't already."

"Any indignity is inherent in the action itself, not the discovery of
it," Spock quoted.

"Surak?" McCoy guessed.

"No, Chopra," corrected Spock blandly.  "And we have done nothing of
which I am ashamed.  Nor, I would assume, have you."

"Well, that's very big of you, but I know you wanted to keep this
under wraps at least until your next pon farr and a decision about a
permanent bonding.  I hope this doesn't push you into feeling--
thinking that you owe me anything.   You're still free to do
whatever.  This will blow over in time.  Anyway, your name didn't get
mentioned, so you can probably still play dumb and get away with it.
I'll take the heat.  It was my screw up and my dick, after all."

Spock's face was a mask.

Leonard craned his neck and peered at him.  "Are you angry?  I can't
tell?"

Spock was on his feet and moving toward him, his face as still as the
eye of a storm.  He locked his gaze and McCoy broke out in a thin
sheen of sweat.

Spock leaned in, breaching his personal space.  The pungent smell of
his alien breath curled hot around Leonard's face as he spoke.  "I
have insufficient information to render a decision.  Tell me, just
what did you say?"

McCoy felt his heart begin to rise up and hammer in his throat.  He
swallowed hard to push it back down where it belonged.  "I said, I
wanted you to hang your stinking crotch over my face and let me sniff
all the sweat and piss in your dirty Vulcan pubes."

Spock closed his eyes and rubbed himself through his  uniform.
"Illogical.  Vulcans do not sweat."

McCoy continued. "I said, I wanted you to sit on my face and fuck my
face with your hairy shithole and let me eat you out until I reached
your tonsils through your asshole."

Spock unzipped his fly and fingered deftly his ripening  cock.
"Unhygienic in the extreme and physiologically impossible.  As  a
physician you should know better than to even consider such  patently
unfeasible activities."  But his fingers flew faster, his  breath came
in short, quick gasps and his cock had flushed the dark  olive of full
Vulcan arousal.

McCoy leaned in against him massaging the chenesi with his fingers.
He ground his groin up against Spock's hip and whispered hot into his
ear, "I told Jim I come all over your face and watch while you lick
off every drop."

Spock bucked and groaned harsh into his neck.  "Leonard, come with
me, please," he begged.  He stopped his strokes just long enough to
unzip Leonard's trousers and free his thick cock with a plop.

Spock took the two cocks in hand and worked them together, almost as
one.  The sensation all but buckled Leonard in the knees.  Had it not
been for Spock's greater strength, he would have gone to the floor,
but as it was, he remained pressed tight in against him.

"And what...were...you...doing?" Spock choked out as he struggled for
every breath.

"I was jerking off in front of the camera and thinking of you," McCoy
whispered, his voice low and tight.  "I came all over the screen."

Spock's penis oozed a dab of thick precum out of the slit and Spock
slathered it around.  "Leonard, that is not--"  But he could not
finish the thought.  His shoulders jerked spasmodically as his hands
worked frantically at their cocks.

"Hurry up, Spock or I am going to cum all over you and make you wear
the stinking crusty uniform on to the bridge."

Spock's strokes had reached a frenzied pitch.  His breaths were more
like sobs.  His chest quivered and his chenesi throbbed for  release.
"Leonard--"

McCoy put his lips right into the helix of the Vulcan's ear and threw
all his weight into his hips. The friction was more so great it  hurt.
The sensation was like nothing he had ever known.  It was at  the same
time too much, not enough, and more than he had ever dreamed  of.  He
was desperate for it to end. He wanted to stay in this place  forever.
He whispered. "I love you, Spock."

With a quiet whimper, Spock came finally with relief.  McCoy followed
not far behind.

In slightly better shape than his lover, McCoy chuckled and went for
the towels.  He tossed one at Spock.  "The things I do for you.  And
I'm the one that's going to have to bear the brunt of this you know.
That tape was pretty raunchy, but I'm the only one who came out
looking bad.   You'll probably walk away squeaky clean and nobody
will believe it was all your idea!  The things it takes to get you
off. You had better be worth it, bucko."

But McCoy was grinning from ear to ear as he wiped his sticky groin
with the towel.  Then the comm panel squawked.

Spock answered. "Spock here."

"Mister Spock,"  It was Chris Chapel.  "I'm sorry to interrupt your
meeting, Sir.  I know Doctor McCoy said it was important, but he's
needed in Sickbay."

McCoy hastily ran the other end of the towel over his face and hair
and came to the panel.  "What is it Chris?"

Christine pursed her lips.  She sounded like she might be about to
sneeze.  "Oh, Doctor, a new crewman needs you down here.  "He had
something happen to his chenesi that is unknown to Vulcan medical
science and says you would know what to do.  Oh, and he says there
just might be something rammed up his poopchute too."  Christine
collapsed into gales of maniacal laughter and then the screen went
mercifully dark.

McCoy groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, no.  Not my own
nurse.  Nothing, absolutely nothing, is worth this."

Spock had already wiped himself and tucked himself neatly back in his
pants. He looked as pristine as if nothing had even happened.  "Are
you so certain, Doctor?  Is there no way I can make this up to you?"
He extended two fingers in the traditional manner.

McCoy  stepped back toward him and smiled wistfully.  "Oh, I'll be
alright.  It's just a little embarrassing.  If I knew that you would
stay with me, it would all be worthwhile."  He swiped at the fingers
half-heartedly.

"I have said as much all ready," Spock replied. "Have I given you
cause to doubt it?"

"Not exactly, it's just odd living a secret life.  I just wish we
didn't have to wait until your pon farr to make the announcement."

"That is the Vulcan way, Doctor.  The permanent bonding is only
possible then.  It would be illogical to announce what has not yet
occurred."

McCoy grumbled, "Yeah, well, the human way is insecurity until
secured.  Don't you believe in engagement notices?"

"Vulcan does not have social columns."

McCoy rolled his eyes.   "Alright, I don't want to push you.   It's
just very hard for me to reach back to you for a relationship that I
can't even see of feel once I leave this room.  A little public
acknowledgment would make a world of difference.  Sometimes I feel
like I am just the dirty little secret you don't want anyone to know
about."

Spock came to him and bushed his mind tenderly with his thoughts,
erasing all trace of doubt.  "Never that, Leonard."  They kissed with
resistance at first, soon slowly but surely making love with their
lips.

Leonard pulled away, a little shaken as always.  "Thanks.  I guess I
knew, but that helped.  I love you, but sometimes I still don't think
I understand you yet."

McCoy gathered himself.  "I need to go apologize to that Sponovich
kid."

McCoy glanced back once.  "Are you sure you aren't mad?"

Spock stared at him coolly.  "I am a Vulcan.  Vulcan's do not 'get
mad', Doctor.  The event has occurred and we shall deal with any
sequelae logically and individually."

McCoy snorted and scratched his head.  "Okay.  Thanks for taking it
so well.  I still don't understand how I could have done something so
stupid."  He left the cabin, still shaking his head as he strolled
down the passage to geochem.

Spock watched as the door slid shut behind him.  He moved back to the
computer and pulled up a new screen.  One of the benefits of an A7
rating was that he could accomplish almost anything.  In only a few
seconds he undid the selective routing reversal he had made earlier
today between his code and Sponovich's to the correct settings.  All
future videofeeds from McCoy would now reach him properly.

He double checked his work and toggled a key.  The screen went back
to his study of Lynarian geothermal patterns over the last decade.
He didn't give it any attention, though.  Instead he concentrated on
potential rearrangements for his cabin.  If his projections from
other studies of the dissemination of prurient interpersonal details
in a closed communities were correct, within 4.7 hours enough of the
crew should be informed to meet any reasonable human definition  of
"public".  In that case he predicted that Leonard would be back
within twenty-four hours with all of his belongings in tow.  Spock
studied the walls and shelves of the small cabin which he had begun
to consider incomprehensibly lonely.  Finding a mutually agreeable
location for his collection of preserved and mounted Terran forest
ungulate heads should prove an interesting exercise in logic.

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~Lyra July 2003

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The End