Saturday, August 05, 2006

Interlude [TOS: Mc/F Rating--R]

Disclaimer: Paramount owns these characters. I just like to make sure they have sex once in a while.

Title: Interlude 1/1
Author: T'Prahn
Series: TOS
Rating: R
Paring: Mc/f
Archiving: ASCEM, Acidqueen. All others please ask permission.
Contact: frokitt@...

Author's note: This was originally titled "You Busy?" Everyone has that one person that they call at 10pm on a school night for a little no-strings fun fun. The call always starts out with the question, "You busy?". I have since developed a fascination with McCoy and decided to expand on the story a bit. And because I love writing McCoy.

Summary: Night call, seduction is an art form, the discovery.


Chapter 1


"McCoy here."

"You busy?"

He chuckled. "Well, well. How are you, darling?"

"Are. You. Busy?"

"Didn't you get enough last night?"

"Apparently not."

"I'm an old man, baby."

"You do all right."

"You flatter me. I'm old enough to be your father."

"You didn't seem to mind me calling you "daddy" last night."

"Honey, that's obscene."

"But in a good way."

Another low chuckle. A thrill went through her. He laughed softly like that in her ear last night, the second time she orgasmed. She turned her head so she could reach his mouth and the smell of bourbon and mint leaves and sliced oranges washed over her.

"Mmmm," he breathed. "It's 0200. I'm tired."

"I promise I won't take long. Half hour, forty-five minutes, tops."

"Guess I could do that."

"Don't move. I'll be right over."

"I'm not going anywhere. As to not moving? Can't promise you that, dollface."

"Rai out."

McCoy smiled and shook his head. He walked into the sleeping alcove, adjusting the elastic leg of his white boxer briefs. He noted with interest that he was already semi-erect. He put on his robe and tied the sash. It wouldn't do to answer the door with a hard on, even though they were long past being coy.

He sat on the edge of his bed and lay back with his arm across his eyes. What the hell was he thinking? At twenty-seven, she was achild. A physicist, but still too young. He wasn't exactly over the hill, but he did have a lot of years on her. He couldn't believe that he was going to see her again tonight. He briefly considered calling her back and telling her not to come, but the memory of their previous encounter filled his belly—and his loins--with warmth. This was such a bad idea. A Very Bad Idea.

But man, oh man was it good. God bless Sam Kolpeki for adding those extra fifty sit-ups to his workout routine.


The night before, he'd gone to yet another of a slew of mission-end parties, this one in the Science Lab. It was a costume party and he'd come dressed as Rhett Butler. Of course.

He wore a deep maroon frock coat with a white ruffled cravat. His hair was swept back from his forehead in fragrantly pomaded waves, leaving a forelock curled charmingly over his forehead. He grinned at himself in the mirror before he walked out of his cabin. The maroon complimented his blue eyes; his teeth were white in his tanned face. Not bad for an old fart.

As he entered the transformed science lab, he slipped easily into character; courtly and seductive was not a stretch for him. He stood observing the partygoers, thinking about how much he would miss some of them. There was nothing like serving on a starship. He accepted a two-year research fellowship that he would begin at the end of the mission. His med school roommate's daughter was also one of the fellows and he promised to look out for her. The fellowship should prove to be very challenging, but he wasn't looking forward to babysitting some snotnose.

McCoy looked in the direction of the sound of hearty laughter and saw Scotty, Spock and Chekhov standing near the buffet. Spock looked ferocious and sexy dressed as a Plak'matya, theVulcan equivalent of a vampire. He wore a black cassock made of stiff, elaborately embroidered fabric. Blood green glass jewels were sewn in an intricate pattern across the chest. He was due for a haircut and had eschewed his usual hair tonic that served to tame the slight wave that he'd inherited from his father. The cowlick in the front asserted itself and parted his bangs a little on the side. Two-inch fangs dimpled his full lower lip. Several sets of female eyes—and not a few male--followed his every move. He'd apparently made one of his dry Vulcan comments because Scotty's face was going an alarming shade of red as he hung off Chekhov, breathless with laughter.

McCoy grinned. He would miss Spock perhaps most of all. Spock turned in his direction and raised an amused eyebrow. McCoy carried a flask of real bourbon and he lifted it in a silent toast before he added a splash to the glass he held. Spock inclined his head and turned back to his group.

"Bones, the idea of a costume party is to come as someone or something very different from yourself." Kirk was dressed as a pirate.

"I could say the same about you, but frankly Sir, I don't give a damn." McCoy was glad to see him. Jim’s appearance at a ship's party was almost as rare as Spock's.

"Sounds like you've got that honey sweet Southern accent out in full force tonight."

"What accent?"

Kirk laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

McCoy waggled the flask in invitation. "A tonic, Captain?"

"Sure, why not? The doctor poured a generous dollop into Kirk's glass. Kirk took a drink and swallowed hard, his eyes watering.

"Careful, Jim Boy. This stuff'll make you high as a Georgia pine. " His accent had thickened, making `high' sound like `hah' and `pine' sound like `paahn'.

"I'm going to miss you, Bones." Kirk patted him fondly on the back.

"I'll miss you too, Jim." They grinned into each other's eyes.

Jim peered around the room. "Will you look at that? Spock didn't tell me he was going to be here. And wearing a costume, no less. I didn't bother to ask him to join me because I thought he'd refuse."

"It is his lab." McCoy's gaze was drawn to where Spock was staring with rapt attention. "Or perhaps you didn't offer the proper incentive."

Uhura walked gracefully towards them dressed as a monarch butterfly. Large wings were attached to a shiny black bodysuit that hugged every generous curve. The bodice was cut very low and revealed the top half of her breasts. She had dusted her exposed skin with shimmering gold powder. Her feet were bare and a ring glittered on one of her toes. Kirk and McCoy watched with wide eyes as she approached.

"Doctor, I should have come dressed as a giant daffodil," murmured Kirk.

"Amen to that."

"You look suitably dangerous, Captain," she said.

"That's an amazing costume, Lieutenant. You look, uh, amazing.

"She laughed." Thank you, Sir. And the wings move." She pressed a button on her sleeve and the wings began flapping slowly. She twisted around to give them a better view. The bodysuit was also cut very low in the back, ending just above the curve of her buttocks and revealed two dimples on either side of the base of her spine.

"Ahem, yes. Amazing."

She pivoted towards McCoy. "And I declare, Mr. Butler, you look very charming this evening. " She held out her hand to be kissed and fluttered her lashes.

"No, Miss Nyota, it is you who holds all the charm in this room." McCoy stepped forward and looked into her eyes. "For the life of meI can't see how you managed to be both butterfly and flower." He leaned over her hand and brushed his warm lips against the silky skin. "Though, either bears the taste of nectar." His eyes held hers. Uhura's other hand floated to her throat and she swayed a little toward him, her lips parted.

He glanced over her head, met Spock's eyes, released her hand and stepped back. "Have a nice evening, sweetness."

She walked away, looking back, her eyes huge. McCoy held her gaze until she was swallowed by the crowd. Kirk stared, his eyebrows raised.

"Bones, you've been holding out."

"On what?"

"That didn't look like part of your character. That was so sexy, I want to fuck you."

"Seduction is an art form, Jim." McCoy gave him a sideways glance. "You don't always have to club a girl over the head with your dick."

"Just what are you implying?"

"If the shoe fits."

"Humph." Kirk watched Uhura flap her wings for Chekhov. He turned back to McCoy and regarded the doctor with narrowed eyes. "You aren't planning to seduce Uhura, are you?"

"A gentleman never tells." McCoy watched as Spock drifted casually to where Uhura was flapping her wings. Lately, he always knew where he could find Spock: hovering nearUhura. He wasn't sure if there was anything going on between them yet, but they'd been looking at each other with dreamy eyes since the Tellarite reception. It was subtle but he could see it. He watched Spock insert himself between Chekhov and Uhura.


"Relax, Jim. I have a feeling Miss Uhura's heart is already taken. And I'd like to keep mine in my chest."


"Who's that?"

"Who's who? And what do you mean you'd like to keep your heart in your chest?"

McCoy unscrewed his flask and poured more bourbon into Kirk's cup.

"Have a good time, Jim. See you around."

"Where are you going?"

"To take my own advice," murmured McCoy, brushing past Kirk.

"Why is everyone in my senior staff suddenly talking in riddles? I can't get a straight answer from anyone lately. And why am Istanding here talking to myself?"


As the Enterprise headed back to Sector 001, they were picking up and dropping off people nearly every day, so McCoy was only half-listening when Chapel informed him that they were transporting some scientist to her new assignment.

They picked the woman up at Memory Alpha and were giving her a lift to her new post at New Phoenix on Luna. That meant that she would remain with them until the end of the mission--for the next four weeks.

"A month in the science labs with Mr. Spock. Well…" Christine trailed off. She tried to sound nonchalant but to her dismay, it came out sounding petty and jealous.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Christine. I'm sure Spock's got his mind on other things than some new person mucking around in his labs." McCoy was knee-deep in charting and was not paying much attention to his head nurse.

"Of course he has a lot on his mind, Doctor. I wasn't implying anything." She left the room quickly.

McCoy spared her retreating back a confused glance and went back to his pile of data wafers. If he'd known the scientist was a redhead, he might have paid closer attention.


McCoy made casual but steady progress toward the woman. Her red hair lay against the nape of her long neck in a thick, blunt brush. Unlike Tonia Barrows, this woman was one of those olive-skinned redheads who tanned brown instead of burning or freckling up. This woman was tall and athletic-looking like Tonia, but without Tonia's softer curves. Her bare arms were slender and muscular. He worked his way to the other side of the lab so that he could see her from the front.

He talked with DeSalle as he studied her over the taller man's shoulder. She had a wide high forehead, a large, slightly crooked Roman nose, a square jaw and a mouth that was a luscious red bee-stung cupid's bow. Her eyes were large and brown, fringed with long lashes and capped with aggressive dark eyebrows. Her eyelids were heavy and canted like Spock's. She was beautiful. He wanted to get his fingers into that thick hair.

He gave a little inward wince when he saw that she was wearing a toga a la the women on Platonius but he got over it. The garment drooped low on her boyish chest and the straps of her sandals crisscrossed around her hard calves all the way up to her knees. She shifted her weight and the toga opened to reveal a long, muscled thigh. He usually liked a little more meat on the bones but she didn't look all that frail. In fact, this girl looked like she could kick his ass.

He liked that.

DeSalle asked him a question and McCoy tried to focus on the conversation. When he looked back at the scientist, she was looking right at him. Appreciatively. Speculatively.

He turned his eyes up to mega wattage and gave her a slow smile. Her brown eyes widened slightly but then she cocked her head curiously.

McCoy excused himself, stepped around DeSalle and stood patiently, sipping his drink, letting her get a good look at him. She boldly surveyed his body, an amused twinkle in her eyes. He waited. She folded her arms. He grinned and shrugged. No need to play games. They both knew what this was.

He walked over to her in his graceful, loose-legged cowboy saunter. She looked down at his feet and one of those expressive brows quirked up. He stood before her.

"I don't think I even want to know your name," she said.

"Yeah, but I think want to hear you say it."

"Let's go." She turned and headed for the exit.

McCoy laughed. "You're the boss, sugar."

She stopped and put her hand on his chest. "Oh, no. Not tonight."

McCoy drew himself up and dropped the seductive smile. "Then what are we standing here for?"

It was fortunate that they were not alone in the turbolift.

They walked briskly down the corridor to her quarters. Every so often, McCoy gave her a gentle little push in the small of her back.

"Hurry," he whispered.

Later that night, she lay collapsed across his chest. She was naked but for her sandals. He was still nearly fully clothed but his shirt was torn open and his pants were down around his thighs. They were breathless and sweating. His back and his knees were going to be sore tomorrow. So was his penis.

"What is your name?" she gasped.

"Leonard. McCoy," he panted.

"Dr. Leonard McCoy?"


"M.D., PhD., MXb* and a bunch of other letters I'm too polite to mention? That McCoy?"

"Uh, huh."

She started to laugh.

Smiling, he pushed his fingers into her hair and lifted her head so that he could see her face. "What's so funny?"

"I'm Amrit Rai."

He looked at her with alarm. "You're kidding?"

"I'm not." She was laughing harder.

"Are you sure?"

She guffawed. "Pretty sure."

He pressed her face back into his chest with one hand and covered his own face with the other. He started to chuckle. "Oh, shit." Then he laughed outright. "Oh, man." He drew his arms around her as they rolled back and forth with laughter.

"Your daddy's going to kill me."


*Master, Xenobiology



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