"Which puts us between a rock and a hard place," said Kirk.  "On one hand, the Barricaians are too pacific and advanced a society to let go without even attempting to persuade them toward Federation membership.  On the other hand, the very extent of their pacifism and beneficence makes them loathe to have anything to do with Starfleet.  It seems that if we are to approach them, it must be in the way that other outsiders utilize their world, as a 'love nest' of sorts. 

 "We need to establish trust, so I'd like the landing party to be a conceivable lovers' pair.  Casual dress, no mention of Starfleet.  Just two people apparently there to stoke some flames.  Still, this is a data gathering mission, so I need people with the expertise for the task. 

 "Bones, with your background in different psychologies, you're at the top of my list.  Who do you want with you?  Palomas?  Or maybe that new anthropologist Litchfield."

 "I'll take Spock," said McCoy closing down his recorder as if it were a done deal.  "When it comes to data gathering, I don't suppose you can do any better than a walking computer.  If this is going to be my mission, I want the best."

 Kirk balked.  "Bones, were you sleeping through the 'love nest' part of the briefing?" Kirk always sounded irritable when repeating himself to his officers.  "No one is going to believe you two as couple."

McCoy rolled his eyes.  "It's clear you've never been married, Jim.  We fight all the time and we aren't having sex.  I don't see the problem." 

Sulu chuckled.  He'd been married—briefly—once himself.   Scotty laughed too.  He had never been married by careful intention. 

"Spock?  That puts the ball in your court."  Kirk looked skeptically towards his dignified exec. 

"As one who has been referred to as the best first officer in the fleet—" 

McCoy squirmed.  He should have known that remark would come back to bite him in the butt. 

"—I am confident that I am up to any assignment," Spock continued coolly.  "Even this one.  Although considering the circumstances, I may put in a request for hazardous duty pay." 

"Duly noted, and I can't say I disagree."  Kirk chuckled and stood, signaling the meeting and the issue was at an end.  "Who was it who said that we all make our own purgatories?  Somebody wise, I bet." 

"Something else, Mr. Chekov?"  His ears pricking toward the ensign, Spock pierced Chekov with a stony glance.

"No, sir.  I was just...humming.  It makes the time go by.   Vat a shame that Wagner wasn't born a Russian."  Chekov put on an ingenuous smile and strolled slowly out of the briefing room with the unmistakable strains of "Here Comes the Bride" falling away behind him.

The planet was gorgeous, rich and lush.   The ocean shoreline was unspoiled.  Coral reefs jumped with fish.  Much of the interior was jungle.  Near the rim it was more arid, but still specialized vegetation grew among the rocks.  Leafy green groundcover sprouted pink blossoms keeping much of the land near shore from eroding. 

In the settlements neat white houses were designed to reflect the heat and channel the breeze.   In the yards, flowering vines and stubby trees resembling Earth palms waved languidly in the air. 

It was clear why the Federation wanted it.  It seemed smart not to let them have it considering the mess Earth had made of things in the past, although to be fair, Earth and the Federation as a whole had been doing better in recent years.

"Dear God, do you think we can be trusted with a treasure like this?"  McCoy asked as he breathed in the, sweet unpolluted air. 

"Yes," said Spock.

"You're an idealist.  Who would have thought it?" asked McCoy as he put a hand out to cup a heavy red bloom and sniffed. The perfume was rich and reminded him of a wonderful, younger time when everything was still open and possible before him in his life.

"I am not.  But as you and I will be crafting the recommendations, we can ensure whatever is right is done." 

"Like I said: you're an idealist," McCoy restated just before the welcoming committee made it to the arrival area.
 
"Beings Spock and McCoy."  The Barricaians quivered, presumptively in greeting.  "Welcome to our domain.  Are you newly paired, or working through troubled times with us?"

"Newly paired," said McCoy. 

"Troubled times," said Spock simultaneously. 

There was an awkward pause as McCoy glared.
 
The taller Barricaian made a barking sound.  "I see.  Then, I have seldom met a pair more in need of the services of our world.  Please, may our home be yours for the duration, and when you depart, may it be with what you need."    He (or she?) backed away to greet the next arriving couple. 

"Well, that went well," said McCoy sarcastically. 

"Indeed," said Spock with no trace of irony.  "We seem to be accepted."

"Maybe wedding bands would have helped," mused McCoy.  "We can have the ship beam down a set. Or buy a pair here at the local tourist trap, if it doesn't look like they'll risk turning our fingers green.  Or would that be red, in your case?"

"That is a Human preconception," Spock said, ignoring the barb.  "Vulcans do not indicate matrimonial status with jewelry."

"So what do they do?"

"Jesus!" said McCoy, as he caught his breath against the back of his hand.  "You could have warned me!"

"As you immediately and specifically requested the knowledge, additional prologues would have been illogical." 

"That's easy for you to say.  You're the telepath; you do that all the time." 

"I do not.  And you are simply complaining for its own sake.  In fact, I suspect you would be dismally unhappy should you ever run out of nonsensical matters about which to complain." 

"Yeah, well, if you're going to stick around, I don't guess I'll have the chance to find out," McCoy rallied.  Most of his color was back. 

"I don't suppose you will," Spock agreed. 

McCoy raised his tricorder and began to scan.  "Well, come on.  We have a job to do." 

Spock leveled his and began to scan as well.  "Several nearby pockets of native persons.  Some appear to be engaged in activities in offshore water craft, some on land, and some actually in the water." 

McCoy looked with his tricorder.  "In the water. We are heading to the bunch in the water!   This way!"  He aimed his tricorder and set off down the rubble path lined with flowering groundcover on both sides. 

It was a pretty walk, reminiscent of the best botanical gardens of the south, but exotic too.  That was the interesting thing about life in space; the alien often seemed oddly familiar in a subliminal way he couldn't quite place. 

The topped a small rise and the dune fell away to a crescent bay pale pink sand glistened opalescent for a hundred yards or more up and down the shore.  The whole bay had to be at over a kilometer long. McCoy checked his tricorder.  No, it was 4.1!  After three years on a star ship, four kilometers of beach was nigh infinity.  

The bright sun played tricks with the eyes making it seem much shorter than it was.  

Or maybe it was the fact he was a little distracted; the hundreds of people on the beach were naked.  

When in Rome...

McCoy dropped his clothes and tied them to his tricorder strap.

"You knew," said Spock with a nod to the people.  The naked people. 

"Of course.  Data collection.  Just doing a thorough job.  What else would you expect?  But we have to start somewhere; might as well be here."  McCoy bounced on his toes.  Everything bounced.  Every.  Thing. 

It felt kind of good, so he bounced again. 

Spock regarded him.

"Don't just stand there, sweet cheeks."  McCoy bounced again, letting the sand work its way between his toes.  "We're under orders to blend in.  Or are you afraid that I'm going to find something to complain down there?"  He gave a mischievous nod to Spock's crotch. 

Raising one eyebrow and dropping all his clothing, Spock met the challenge. 

McCoy gave a whistle, but couldn't find a damned thing to complain about. 

They collected native interactions.  It was about as straightforward as any planet they had encountered.  Kindness and intelligence didn't often come together so neatly, but when it did, there wasn't much to say about the cultural survey. They needed about two hours more recordings.  They'd been allotted almost twenty. 

"Kabma juice?" a child offered from a pushcart.  

"Thanks, son," said McCoy.  He took the container that looked like some kind of large native nut.  He took a big swig, then offered it to Spock. 

Spock took a sip and coughed.  He scanned it.  "Fourteen percent ethanol."

"Now you tell me."  McCoy chugged the rest and stuck the paper umbrella behind his ear.  "Hey, it's dangerous to risk dehydration can't be too careful." 

"Indeed.  That parasol should help immensely."  Spock switched off his tricorder.  "I think we have collected enough here.  Perhaps another locale." 

The sun was warm.  McCoy's body was warm.  His dick was half hard from watching all the happy, naked couples and it was getting harder by the second. 

"I want to frolic," he said.  Quickly he made a nook in the sand for his clothes and tricorder and dashed for the water. 

"Don't be such a fuddy duddy, Spock!  It's part of the cultural study.  Besides, it's not safe to swim alone." 

It was true; it wasn't.   And they were effectively done with their data collection here.  And Humans did require periods to relax and recuperate, however illogical that aspect of their physiology may be. 

All of that made rather nice cover for the simple fact that bobbing in the warmth of the ocean waves seemed that it might be serene, peaceful...and fun. 

The water was warm, about 29 degrees and an interesting hue of reddish-gold.  Spock wondered what it contained for dissolved solutes to color it and wished he had taken the time for a tricorder scan.  He waded in chest deep to where McCoy waited.  The waves lapped gently at their chests.  The density was significantly higher than that of the Earth's oceans and even a little more than that of the Vulcan seas.  It buoyed them up easing tired joints, leaving a floaty feeling...if Vulcan's had feelings, one might say, that is.  

"Hey, sailor, come here often?"  McCoy teased.   The paper umbrella behind his ear fell loose and floated away. 

Spock squinted into the sunlight.  "Are you...intoxicated." 

"Nah, just happy.  Best assignment I've drawn in months."  McCoy dived down under the waves and grabbed Spock's knees, pulling him under the water.  He came up laughing.  Spock came up, well, not exactly laughing, but not exactly annoyed either. Payback is hell.  Spock timed it just right to push McCoy down under the next wave.

I guess you could say they frolicked. 

Breathing hard, McCoy came up after a three wave surge pressed him up against Spock's chest. The sun was still warm; his dick was even harder. The pressure of the waves at his back kept him sandwiched to Spock's skin.  Playing around, they had been dragged out to deeper water.  It wasn't easy to keep his balance in the waves here chin deep.  He used his hands to steady himself against Spock's body.

Steady himself.  Right.    He caressed around the side of one hip and close in enough in front to discover what he wanted to know. 

A wave rolled in, and he used Spock's body for leverage, raising himself above the wave crest and back down.  A little bolder this time, he allowed—hell, he maneuvered—their cocks to brush in passing. It felt so nice McCoy started to think being half drowned would be a fair trade.  M'benga could always bring him back...

Fortunately, Spock took a few steps inshore to shallower water.

Or was that, "Spock moved a few steps away from McCoy?"

Three goddamned years and McCoy still hadn't learned how to decipher that Vulcan's blasted accent. 

McCoy cleared his throat. "Uh, Spock, for all our...arguing, or whatever you want to call it...I'm honestly not sure what it is you want, and, uh, for this, I do need to be sure." 

Spock picked up McCoy's hand and placed it—palm open—on top of his tumescent crotch.  McCoy got the message and began to move his hand. 

Spock was a handful; McCoy had always known that, but this was literally as well as figuratively now.  The cock was ample, but it was the balls that drew most of McCoy's attention.  Unlike a Human's they swelled noticeably with excitement.  Now they were at least four times as big as their normal state.  McCoy could only begin to guess at the amount of semen they held or how much they could unload at their maximum.  And that didn't even include the prostatic secretions.

Curious, he reached behind the balls. Spock was swollen big as a coconut there too.  McCoy wondered what it would be like to lick that gland with his tongue.   For now fingers would have to do, and he spread all five as wide as he could and bit in hard.  Apparently that did something right, for Spock spread his legs further apart for better access and with one arm picked McCoy up and smashed him to his chest and groin. 

"Christ on a crutch!"  McCoy swallowed water as his head lolled back, but quickly found his balance on Spock's hips.  He looked around.  No one was paying them much attention.  Besides, the vital parts were all under water; it's not like anyone could really see.
And if Spock wasn't going to back down, you could be dadblamed sure McCoy wouldn't chicken out first.
 
And sometimes a man was just too blasted close to give a good goddamn who was watching, and McCoy was about one hair's breath away from that point and moving closer with the motion of every wave. 

McCoy wrapped his legs around Spock's back and dug in hard with heels and thighs.  In a confused manipulation of hands and water and groins and lust, he worked between Spock's legs until they both came spewing enough semen between them to make their own milky lake right there in the ocean between their stomachs.  

Together they made little fanning gestures with their hands until it had all drifted away.

The Barricaian shooed a mother cat with a litter of kittens off the porch and opened the door to a small cabana off of the beach.  "May your stay leave you with as many of our wonders as you bequeath upon us.  He quivered and bowed out of the way.  

"Looks like were sharing a bed," said McCoy as he looked around.  "Do you mind?" 

"It is only for a few hours.  I will not need sleep."

"Well, I do," McCoy emphasized, throwing his tricorder down with a weary sigh.  "If you're uncomfortable after...uh...you know...I can take the sofa."

"You can, but you would be missing out on an exceptional experience." Spock threw his tricorder onto the sofa.

"Why you stuck-up, self-important, over-inflated elf!"  McCoy grinned from ear to ear to ear. 

Spock just looked smug. 

McCoy checked the bathroom.  "I found some lotion," he called out.  "If you're game, I'm more than ready and willing.  It's too bad this stuff washes off in water, otherwise I'd be up for going right back out there."

"I thought you were going to sleep." 

"Shut up, Spock."  Clothes again lost somewhere between the bathroom and the bed, McCoy tossed him the lotion and climbed under the sheets. 

Spock's communicator beeped.  Jim with his ever impeccable timing.  "Mr.  Spock, report.  How is the happy couple?" 

McCoy grabbed Spock's wrist and suppressed a giggle. "Happy as can be, Jim. You interrupted us just about to screw our dicks off." 

"Very funny, Bones.  Keep your day job.  Spock?" 

"Mission is going as well as can be expected under the circumstances, Captain.  Our cover remains intact, and secondary surveys of the inhabitants confirmed what we were led to believe."

"Good.  Any chance of cutting it short?  I'd like to get a head start if possible." 

McCoy groaned.

"Negative.   It is said a society may be judged by how it treats its animals, and I have some concerns about my observations of the treatment of animals here. I should like to use the left over time to study it further." 

Now McCoy noticed that the mother cat and her litter curled up in a corner of the room.  Spock must have let them in while McCoy was in the bath.   The old softie. 

"Do you think that's necessary?" 

"Imperative, Captain."  Spock squeezed lotion onto McCoy's hand and closed his eyes as McCoy began to massage it in.

"Very well.   Report back to me in six hours.  Kirk out."

"Thank God," said McCoy and fell onto Spock's nipple with his mouth.  "But tell the truth: did you really want to stay for the mission, or as an excuse to have more sex in paradise?"

"I noted a large collection of companion animals on our initial survey; I should like to visit that." 

"Now?"  McCoy feared he knew the answer.  Vulcans.  Can't live with 'em; can't sell 'em to the Orions since they don't want 'em either.  

"I remind you, number one, I am studying the animals." Spock nodded to the corner.  "And number two, as we are assigned to pass as a couple, this is part of our mission. So should we go in three or four hours, my conscience is clear as regards to use of official time." 

"Then if I'm on duty, I should get the hazard pay," McCoy quipped as Spock's dick plumped to hemorrhoidal proportions in his hand. 

"I'll see you get your payment," said Spock, as he felt the semen begin to swell his sac again.  He rolled McCoy over and licked long strokes up and down his thighs.  He nibbled and nipped at McCoy's asshole and poked a lubricated finger in and out.  "Whatever shall we do for four hours?"  One hand fondling lightly on the balls, Spock pulled his finger out for good and made lazy patterns on the cheeks of McCoy's ass.  

Four hours!  "No, please, put it in.  I can't wait.  I want you in me too much."  McCoy ground out through bared teeth.  Maybe there would be other times to play, maybe not, but it didn't matter; now he had to have that cock upside his ass. Spock slipped it in just a tiny bit. 

"Goddammit you green-blooded stiff-necked holy-than-thou hobgoblin!"  McCoy let fly every invective he could think of until Spock finally leaned in tight and rammed the whole thing home.  McCoy's gasps deteriorated into a gobbledygook that made no sense at all, and he grasp convulsively at Spock's arms as they rocked together on the sheets.  When Spock came inside him, he swore the cockhead swelled twice as big first before uncorking enough semen to drown a battleship.

As for himself, McCoy was dry dry dry from the first time he assumed, but too damn tired to open his eyes or care. 

Behind his eyelids, he drifted pleasantly, until an odd sensation caused him to open one eye.  It was like the uncomfortable prickling one gets with the sensation one is being watched, except that this was not uncomfortable at all. 

In fact, it was kind of nice. 

"Spock?"  McCoy queried with his face.  Spock was propped up on one elbow gazing at McCoy intently, the other hand at the ready.

"As you requested, I am 'warning you', Leonard."  Spock laid the hand against the meld points of McCoy's skull.    

This time the experience wasn't white, but sunshine, ocean and breezes instead.