There had been bleed-over from the meld. Spock was aware of it, in a liminal way. It was as though there was a gate in his mind that did not shut rapidly enough, leaving him exposed to an unrepentant torrent of emotion and logic so strong he'd forgotten to regulate his breathing and gasped. He should have known better. He should not have left the doctor as the last one on whom he performed the meld. The doctor's mind presses in on his shields when his meditation and rest cycles are optimal, and even then he can barely stand the grating, challenging, intriguing consciousness. But in the situation they found themselves in on Pheta Aurigae XVI, there had been no hope of his disciplines holding.

And now, secreted away in his quarters, with his spice tea and his meditation robes, he could feel he doctor's mind clearly, as though it were mere steps away instead of the many decks that truly separated his quarters from med bay. The decks that seemed too numerous and too troublesome now. He could not have allowed the Aurigeans to kill the doctor, and he supposed that any social discomfort or embarrassment he would have to now suffer was worth the life of his- his friend. Yes, the doctor was his friend, but after the meld, after they'd run through the dark moistness of the Aurigean jail, and when he'd finally gotten a signal for beam up , the doctor had looked at him with an unreadable, for once, expression in his eyes, and in that moment Spock had discerned that his discipline was not what it should be. The doctor was his friend, the difference was, now that the doctor iknew/i it, and knew a host of other secrets Spock had never wanted to share.

He'd sequestered himself in his quarters since, claiming a dire need for meditation, but only engaging in rumination over the fact that his ostensible verbal sparring partner now had incontrovertible knowledge of his deepest darkest fantasies. The shame made his cheeks burn evergreen.

"Mr. Spock, please report to sickbay for post-mission evaluation."

He cursed in Vulcan and Standard, feeling an irrational flare of hatred for everything, Starfleet for allowing McCoy in, Jim for insisting they both accompany him to the surface of the planet, Sickbay for existing. He sighed, trying to center himself, donned his thermal black off duty shirt and pants and made his way to sickbay, calculating the odds that McCoy would allow M'Benga to conduct the assessment.

When it was the doctor's eyes that greeted him first before any, he repeated his mantra of Vulcan and Standard curses, peppering them with Klingon and came to parade rest in the middle of the med-bay.

"Doctor. May I remind you that your potions and medical 'intervention' are unnecessary at the time. I find I have no predilection to submit myself to your tortures. Please allow me to return to my meditation cycle."

McCoy didn't even turn from Kirk's bio-bed, hardly acknowledged the Vulcan's presence before he called over his shoulder.

"Shut up, Spock. Get into exam room two before I knock you out like I did Jim. Damn fool."

Spock was unsure whether the imprecation was directed toward him or toward Jim, but it was clear that the Doctor was in no frame of mind to be tested. He acknowledged nurse Chapel's grim look of empathy and walked over to the exam room.

The first thing he noticed was the ambient temperature. It was far above ship's norm, much closer to the temperature he kept in his personal quarters. Unconsciously he felt the tension seeping out of his shoulders, he relished at the circulation restoring itself in his finger tips and the tips of his ears, a sensation that he'd always had a slightly prurient enjoyment of. But though the temperature was close to ideal, the scent was all McCoy. It was another reason Spock had an aversion to sickbay. In other starships the sickbay was antiseptic, clinical smelling or smelling like absolutely nothing at all. Leonard McCoy's sickbay smelled like the man himself. Sun and a little bit of dirt and an undercurrent of the Terran peaches he seemed addicted to. It was as scent that sometimes chased Spock into his dreams, a scent that, if he was unprepared for it, could make his fingers and his mind buzz with anticipation.

He looked up sharply when McCoy entered the exam room, and he was forced to quickly compensate for the sudden sensory overload that assaulted him in the confines of the tiny exam room. Leonard's eyes boring into him silently, his scent again, dirty peaches and a hint of bourbon, but most of all his mind, warm and dark like the caves he would retreat to with I-chaya in the cool of winter

"Mr. Spock."

His eyes snapped open, he hadn't even realized that he'd closed them, he also had let his respiration rate get out of control, and worse his attention had lapsed unacceptably. Dr. McCoy had been forced to repeat his name more than twice.

"Yes Doctor?"

"Strip and lay down on the examination table."

Spock's hands fluttered nervously at the hem of his sweater before he calmed himself, chanting one of the first adages of Surak he'd learned as a child. This was standard procedure, the doctor had seen him naked or semi – nude no less than 12.5 times, the point five a result of Mr. Scott's healthy respect for transporter experimentation. There was no need to fear, he'd allowed the doctor to breach his mental intimacy, but he knew McCoy was a professional, he would provide Spock with a Sick bay jumper as he always did during his physicals.

"Lights 38 percent, obscure windows, lock doors to voice command: 13 3 3 15 24 dash Bravo Oscar 14 5 19"

Spock's heart rate increased by approximately 26 beats per minute. This was highly irregular, McCoy had never deferred and implemented this level of privacy before. And though Spock preferred the dimness to the over bright glare that usually assaulted him on the starship, there was no way the Doctor could adequately assess Spock's condition with this level of light.

"Doctor please explain-"

"Lay down Spock," the Doctor interrupted, his voice somehow more sonorous in the lowered light of the exam room, his accent more pronounced and his voice even lower than normal as he approached Spock.

"Doctor this is most atypical for a-"

"Don't you ever get tired of jawin', Spock? Why don't you just lay down. I've been your physician for years, don't you trust me by now?"

Spock was not well versed in emotional expression, he would be the first to admit it, but he could feel the faint tone of pleading in his Doctor's voice, the way the resonances of his mind turned mellow and cool at the prospect of not having Spock's trust. He answered with the truth.

"You know I do, Doctor McCoy." He was quiet for a moment, letting the words take shape in the darkness, waiting for the Doctor's mind to turn toward him again before he continued. "You have seen my thoughts, Leonard." He didn't stumble over the name, but the shame raced down his spine, the knowledge now spoken that Spock no longer had any secrets from Leonard. His mind was as bare to this man as his body on the exam table.

Leonard's voice was rich, and welcoming as he drifted closer to Spock. "You're right," he whispered, steadfastly keeping eye contact as he floated right into Spock's personal space. "I have seen your thoughts, but I think you were a little too spooked and high tailed it out of there before you could really see mine. Would you like that Spock? Would you like to know my mind? I get the feeling you would."

Spock's body had long since passed the point of being regulated by him, and to his shame he felt his sex start to fill, his breathing harsh in the quiet of the exam room excited beyond reason that Leonard was pushing him past his comfort zone, yet again.

"Yes," he answered simply and stopped breathing all together when Leonard's mouth covered his slowly, pulling and teasing his lower lip, his tongue unbelievably wet and sinful, full of profligate Terran water and promise, and his mind, the depth of it thrilling Spock to his core.

Leonard pulled away, and threaded his fingers sweetly with Spock's, and his breathing gave another unregulated hitch at the intimacy of the contact. "Lay down, darlin,' I'm fixin' to get you nice and relaxed."

Spock nodded and sank back into the table, and he was glad to note that it too was heated and evidently padded for his comfort. Spock arched an eyebrow in appreciation and in the half - light, he saw Leonard respond in kind and reached to trace the high arch of the curved brow.

"Learned it from you, hobgoblin" Leonard smiled teasingly, and oddly enough it was the doctor's rare smile that served to relax Spock more than the temperature or the light, almost as much as the affection pouring off the doctor's skin in telepathic waves that Spock felt it would be prudent to wallow in forever.

He closed his eyes when Leonard pushed him down, and complied when Leonard commanded him to stretch his arms up over his head. He felt exposed like this, his body stretched out in stark display and his arousal already tumescent and unapologetically straining away from his body.

The satisfaction was flowing from Leonard unrestrainedly now, and under other circumstances Spock would have chided the doctor for his hubris. But with Leonard's hands running firm circular patterns into his muscles, and the faint musky whiff of arousal that Spock could pick up from Leonard's proximity, he thought that this was one instance in which the doctor's hubris was well earned.

Spock soon became pliant under the doctor's ministrations, eager to feel the slide of Leonard's skin on his, pressing into Leonard's touch and sighing softly whenever Leonard grazed his fingers or skimmed his ears. They were touches that weren't designed to arouse, just to ground Spock, but the sighs still escaped his lips unbidden, and he found himself leaning into Leonard's touch, his hips working up and down whenever Leonard caressed his thighs or ran his fingers along the crease of Spock's thigh.

"Look at that," Leonard murmured "look how nice and sweet you are. I can't tell you what it does to me, Spock, seeing you like this. I've dreamed about it." Leonard leaned in and took the tip of Spock's ear in his mouth, nipping at the pointed tip and making Spock's hips jerk in pleasure. "Want you so bad, Spock, I'm going to make those dreams of yours come true."

Spock whined in acquiescence, and the doctor, no, Leonard, Leonard had moved to the head of the exam table and bent over to claim Spock's lips again, his tongue sinful and warm licking into Spocks mouth, and Spock moaned in frustration. He could not angle his head correctly to align their mouths optimally, to encourage Leonard's tongue deeper. But it didn't matter, because Leonard's hands, wicked and knowledgeable had roamed down to Spock's nipples and were twisting cruelly, teasing him as the feeling reverberated in his fingers and in his cock, which was flushed green and weeping.

"Spock. Don't move your hands, all right?" Leonard's voice was far from even, and Spock was dizzy with the lust and want swirling off his skin, and he wanted to taste the moisture pooling at the base of Leonard's neck, to drive his nose into the doctor's armpits and groin where the scent was heaviest.

When Leonard's mouth closed around his erection Spock howled, out loud, his vaulted Vulcan control a thing of the past, a useless relic in the face of Leonard's erotic onslaught. The Doctor pulled off and enabled the sound proofing for the exam room then proceeded to drive Spock slowly out of his mind.

"Damn, Spock, taste so good. Don't move a muscle." Leonard's tongue was something Spock had dealt with on a deadly basis. The doctor's tongue could be acidic, cutting acerbic and wholly unwelcome at times. But Leonard's tongue was a miracle, dipping into his slit and tracing the veins that were throbbing in his cock, drawing Spock deeper into the recesses of his throat and swallowing until Spock was shivering, whimpering his legs splayed open and the muscles of his ass clenching as Leonard hummed happily around his erection.

There was a part of Spock, the atavistic core of his Vulcan ancestors that quailed at this treatment, at being subjugated under Leonard and spread out like a whore, but it lost the war to Spock's very human need to give up control, to let someone else take charge and take care of him. Leonard had seen it, had glimpsed how deeply seated the need was in Spock and he was giving it to him, nipping gently at Spock's perineum as he mouthed his way down and pushed Spock's legs back to stab at Spock's clenching fluttering hole.

Spock was embarrassed at his vocalizations, they were graceless, as was his body, pushing himself further onto Leonard's tongue as it buried itself deep inside his body. The wetness of it, the strength of Leonard's tongue breaching him, the flash of teeth along the sensitive flesh of his hole, Spock felt himself nearing completion, but he had no language to tell Leonard, to warn him to ask him to stop so that he could have more. Leonard knew, however, and pressing one last kiss into Spock's ass closed his hand like a vice around the spruce hued column of Spock's sex.

"Hush now, pretty baby, Daddy's gon' give ya whatcha need, got it all ready for ya darlin. Gon' take care of you, bein' so good ain'tcha?" Leonard rose over him and Spock was shocked to see that the Doctor was still uniformed, though Spock knew that to have one's genitalia poking out of the Starfleet uniform pants was decidedly inon/i regulation, but most appealing, and Spock found himself trying to spread his legs even wider at the sight of Leonard's cock, his mouth wasting precious saliva in the hope of tasting the liquid gathering at the head.

Leonard lay fully on top of Spock, and the friction of the uniform against his skin, the sudden rush of contact, Leonard's heat, his musk, his smell his thoughts and the Vulcan in Spock came roaring out as he bit and licked savagely at Leonard's neck, marking him and growling it'nash-veh/i into the satin skin of neck. He obeyed, however, because Leonard had not told him that he was allowed to move his arms, so he begged with everything else, rubbing himself raw against the delicious burn of Leonard's uniform, mewling when their aching lengths brushed against each other, and whimpering at the whirl of thoughts hidden in the treasured depths of his mind. Leonard kissed him once, slowly leisurely and in a moment of clarity, Spock saw it for what it was – a warning. Without preamble, with nothing to hold him down but Leonard's hands on his and his mouth opening Spock up, Leonard pushed his way inside Spock's body.

He vocalized again, and he could not blame anyone but Leonard for it, for dragging the sounds out of him with his sex, shattering Spock's control with expert thrusts to his prostate, and with indecent pressure on his sex-sensitive fingers. Spock arched his back hissing at the scratch of rough fabric over his nipples and the burn of Leonard's clothing along his sex.

"Beautiful like this, feel so good darlin,' so hot." The doctor whispered.

Spock moaned again, shameless and needy with the doctor inside him, and he locked his legs around he doctor's waist, pushing his hips up pleading wordlessly for more. And the doctor obliged, thrusting hard and fast into his body, while Spock's tongue darted out to lap at his sweat going dizzy at the salt-sweet moisture on his tongue. It was good, he had never felt the inadequacy of language more than he had at this moment because good wasn't what it was to be so filled and so controlled and cherished. Spock began to tremble mewling Leonard's name as he crashed recklessly into orgasm his throat and neck straining with it as he gave himself to Leonard utterly and totally. Distantly, he heard the doctor growl and felt a quick flash of teeth against his neck, retaliation, he knew, before Leonard's seed flowed into him so wet and warm, and Spock sighed in dazed pleasure.

"Go ahead, Spock."

Spock's eyes blinked open in confusion and he observed Leonard pulling his hands into he meld position, tilting his head up to receive Spock's consciousness.

"I know you need it, I want you to actually take a good look this time."

There was another spike in his hear rate, and it was due to equal parts anxiety and excitement, but he couldn't refuse this, a chance to be in Leonard's mind again made sweeter after having allowed Leonard inside his body. He positioned his hands and tumbled into Leonard's mind and saw everything, affection exasperation and love. Leonard had seen it in Spock's mind during the bleed over but here I was, echoing and responsive a fresh oasis of /i and Spock swam in it kissing Leonard the human way on his cheeks, his lips, on his brow, covering his hand with sweet Vulcan kisses, all to say 'me too, me too.'

"Well," Leonard said gruffly "needless to say you pass your physical." He bent down under the console to retrieve a change in uniform, though Spock found he would have strongly preferred Leonard to roam the halls with Spock's seed staining his shirt and his genitals lewdly exposed through the zipper of his star-fleet issue trousers, covered in Spock's scent. He would have to share this particular fantasy with the doctor, soon.

"Everything else we'll just consider doctor patient confidentiality, if you agree to meet me for dinner later?"

"I agree, Leonard." Spock said warmly, pulling on his clothes and stretching out the kinks in his back.

Leonard drifted back over to the exam table and kissed Spock again, smiling. He leaned in and whispered, "The next time we do this, I'm gonna use the stirrups."

Spock's breathing and heart rate required an additional two minutes to regulate as he watched Leonard saunter out of the exam room laughing softly to himself.