STAR TREK V.I : THE FINAL FROTTAGE
It was a dark and cloudless night. Thousands of stars
twinkled
far above the rocky peaks of the Seirra Nevada range. A light
wind whipped around El Capitan only be dissipated in the fringes of the
ancient sequoia groves. The giant treetops swayed ever-so
slightly dropping the occasional needle down to the forest
floor.
In a small clearing by the brook, the embers of a campfire smoldered
slowly to ash.
On either side of the firecircle lay a lumpy Starfleet issue
Bivvysack. One snored lightly. The other thrashed
jerkily
about.
"Spock, I can't get it up!" McCoy's frustration broke through the
darkness.
Spock's rich baritone chimed in. "Doctor, there is a logical
way
to proceed. Simply press at the base, then glide your fingers
along the center of the shaft and up to the top."
McCoy retorted, "I know how to work a fabriseal, you thick-headed
Vulcan; it's stuck! I can't get the sack closed."
"There is a 89.42% probability that the problem is due to a vapor
lock. To correct that you first push the interlock down, hold
long enough to release the pressure, then slide it up to seal."
"That's what I'm doing you god-damned green-blooded
son-of-a-bitch! How can you hold galactic expert status in
quantum mechanics but not understand the word 'stuck'?" McCoy
thumped violently on the fabriseal mechanism on his side of the
sleeping sack.
"Likewise, Doctor, I do not understand your vehement insistence on
joining our Bivvysacks together. It can matter little if we
sleep
together or separately for one night."
"Spock," McCoy grumbled, "haven't you ever made love under the
moonlight?"
"As you have borne witness to the full extent of my sexual experience,
you are already aware that the answer to that is 'no'. And as
there will be no moonlight tonight, I fail to see how the question is
relevant."
From the foot of their sack McCoy groaned. "Spock, it's a
manner
of speaking. Snuggling together in cool night air and making
love
in the great outdoors is a beautiful, spiritual experience.
That
is. assuming we don't freeze to death first." McCoy tugged at
the
seal again.
Spock said, "Perhaps. But according to my research, as well
as
the user's manual for the Bivvysacks, individual use is standard
practice outside of exigent circumstances."
The thrashing abated. McCoy uncurled to lay face-to-face with
Spock. Their noses al but touched. McCoy
smiled.
"Well, you must not have researched the adult scenarios. I
promise you, this is an exigent circumstance. I most urgently
want to--" McCoy craned his neck and whispered something in Spock's
ear. Even in the darkness he could see the eyebrow rise
beyond
the bangs.
"Indeed? That sounds--fascinating. I begin to see
the logic of your argument," said Spock.
"I thought you would," grinned McCoy.
Spock turned on to his side to face McCoy. Under the covers,
he reached a hand to the doctor's side of the Bivvysack.
There was a pop and a series of soft crackles. The thrashing
redoubled. McCoy's side of the sack suddenly began to fan
madly
up and down.
"Spock! Open that other seal now!" McCoy shouted.
Across the firepit, the second Bivvysack jerked. Jim sat
upright, instantly alert. "What is it?" Jim barked.
"Nothing, Jim," said McCoy.
"Is there another problem with the seal, Doctor?" asked Spock.
McCoy answered, "It's not the seal, it's the beans! If we
don't air out this sack right now--"
Spock sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. With alacrity he reached
for the seal. "Again, I accede to your logic." There was a soft hiss as
the seal released. Spock flapped the top layer up and down a
few
times, then rezipped his side.
Jim sank back down into his sack. "Would you two keep it
down, please. I have a whale of a headache."
"You want a hypo, Jim?" asked McCoy, settling back down into the
bedding.
"No," Jim said irritably. "What I want is to sleep it
off. Your father's secret ingredient had quite a kick."
"Well, so did my father," said McCoy wryly.
Jim flung an arm over his eyes. "I'm sure. Now get
some sleep, you two. Or at least keep it quiet."
Crawling over McCoy's bare chest, Spock reached for the other
seal. He zipped it without difficulty, then remained right
where
he was, his body sprawled invitingly across McCoy's.
"Now that's more like it," McCoy said affectionately. "But don't touch
me back there again tonight, okay? After two bowls of beans,
that's playing with a loaded weapon." McCoy pulled Spock
tight
against his body and kissed him tenderly. Soft
snoring
started up again across the firepit.
Losing himself in the passion, McCoy shifted under Spock's
weight. All of a sudden, McCoy shouted out,
"Ouch!
Move a minute. Something's digging into my hip!"
"That is my erection, Doctor," Spock said placidly.
"Keep it down!" Jim growled, his back to them.
McCoy pushed him off. "Not that, you pointy-penised Vulcan,
here! I think I am laying on a rock." McCoy rubbed
his hip
ruefully. "You always get the side without the rocks."
Spock's eyebrows shot to their absolute limit. "Doctor, the
immensity of the illogic in that single statement utterly stupefies the
mind. For one, the Thermaforce pads on which we rest will
support
27.492 kg/sq. cm. It is not possible for you to feel the
terrain
through the pad."
Spock continued, "However, when humans get to be a certain age, I
understand that they develop assorted aches and pains.
Perhaps
you are simply to old for this sort of activity."
McCoy snorted. "You think so, do you? Come here and
we'll just see about that."
Jim scooted a little farther away and pulled the edges of the sack up
around his ears.
McCoy pulled Spock close. Their hands explored the
wonderfully
familiar territory of each other's skin. Their tongues thrust
together, rough and hungry for more. With one hand Spock
rummaged
through the side pocket of the rucksack that lay under his
head. From it he pulled a gray tubular
contraption.
He pressed on the bottom and a soft white gob extruded into his palm.
Startled, McCoy pulled out of the kiss. "Spock, is that--"
"A marshmelon," Spock said mildly.
"What the hell are you going to do with that?" McCoy asked,
incredulous.
In response, Spock squished the marshmallow flat in his hand and
reached low into the sack.
"Ahh--" McCoy threw his head back and moaned. Spock
disappeared from view, his head buried deep in the sack.
McCoy rocked and bucked, silent under Spock's
ministrations. At long last he choked low in his throat and
slacked limp in relief.
Spock slid up to lie next to him, arms wrapped each around the
other. Something thick and gooey pooled in the grooves of
McCoy's
abdomen, smearing even further as Spock settled deeper into the
embrace.
"Uh, Spock, is that marshmallow--melon that I feel?"
"Not entirely, Doctor," Spock confessed. He pressed his soggy
crotch tightly against the doctor's hip. His penis
lay soft
and flaccid.
With one finger McCoy reached towards Spock's face and wiped a white
smear off of Spock's chin. He popped the finger into his
mouth
and grimaced. Not the best combination.
McCoy sighed. "Great, just great." He yanked the rucksack out
from under Spock's head and rummaged through it in vain.
"Jim," McCoy called.
"Jim!" he repeated louder. Only soft snoring came in reply.
Reaching over, McCoy grabbed the dinner bell and clanged it twice with
vigor.
Jim shot bolt upright on the pad and twisted back around, immediately
ready for action. "What! What is it?"
McCoy dropped the bell and grinned sheepishly, gesturing at his own
sticky chest. "Sorry to bother you, Jim, but, uh, have you
got a
clean towel over there?"
Spock shugged innocently and settled back to stare at the stars.