Thursday, May 29, 2008

...sniffle...



Ganked from Martha Plimpton's myspace.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Alexander Courage 1919-2008

Alexander Courage, the composer of the Star Trek original series theme song, died May 15 at his home in Pacific Palisades.

It’s hard to imagine Trek without those first eight notes--the part of a musical piece that composers name the fanfare. It is particularly fitting in this case, given that its call has summoned fans for over forty years. It is the seminal geek hymn, the march for the true believer. Those eight perfect notes, noble, grand and heroic, that still, these many years later, have the power to fill my heart with wonder and hope for the possibilities of the future of humankind.

Thank you, Alexander Courage for deciding that day to compose the music that speaks your name.

So say we all.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Needs No Caption

girl6 FAQs

Thank you all for all the great feedback. I'd like to be able to respond to all of your emails but I'd spend more time doing that than writing the stuff you really want to read. And try to leave your comments on the site. I publish all comments, good and bad.

Anyway.

I usually am asked three questions when I receive emails from readers. Here are the answers:

1. Yes, I do write other fiction and am currently nearing completion of one of two novels. I do not publish that writing on the internet. No, I won't tell you what it's about....unless you work for Simon & Schuster.

2. A summer fling with a couple of water polo players when I was an undergrad.

3. If you'll look to the right, you'll see a link list of "Favorite Posts". And in the archives, any post with a rating(R, G, NC-17, etc.) in the title is a story. I hope that makes it easier to find them.

Thanks for Spock jonesing, monkies!

Oh and, no, I would not like to go back in time because I'm too uppity. They call it "elitist" these days...

*that's not out of the blue. i've been asked the "time machine question" a few times.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

VILF



The villian I'd like to fuck.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Needs No Caption



*ganked from field

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Sickbay PG

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters.


Sickbay

Archiving: ACSEM, THFFF. All others ask permission, please.
Contact: frokitt@yahoo.com

Another late-night musing, written after an appointment with my hot ENT at the allergy clinic. No beta. All fubars are mine.

AFM--An Atomic Force Microscope-a scanning probe microscope used to image and manipulate matter at the nanoscale.


Summary: Uhura needs ear molds or…something…

~~~


“Excuse me, Dr. McCoy?”

“Almost done,” he murmured.

His head was bent over the viewer of an AFM. The blue light from the viewer diffused his features and filled in the crevices on his face. His long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and the muscles in his forearm flexed as he delicately manipulated the cantilever with his strong fingers.

A corner of his mouth turned down and he winced with one eye.

“Shit,” he said softly. “Ok. One more time.”

Uhura leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “I guess I’ve been stood up,” she said. “And in favor of a piece of lab equipment, no less.”

“Huh? What?” He looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry, lieutenant. Were we supposed to do something?”

You called me,” she said.

“I did? Oh yeah, I did,” he said. “I need to do the molds for your new ear piece. Just let me finish this and I’ll be right with you.” He bent back to his viewer.

Uhura yawned. “Can’t one of the techs do it?” she asked.

“I don’t trust those kids with precious cargo.”

“I was talking about my ears.”

“The best ears in the fleet,” he murmured, engrossed in his work.

She raised both brows and grinned. “Ok,” she said. “You’re the doctor.”

She sat down on a stool and let her mind drift while she waited. She gazed at the doctor. McCoy really was a good looking man, one of that kind you didn’t notice--unless he wanted you to. She watched the expressions play across his face as he worked the AFM: frustration, curiosity, surprise, wonder, satisfaction. He twisted his body, reaching for an instrument on the table behind him. His tunic stretched across his lean torso, outlining the hard curve of a muscle in his chest and clinging briefly to a tiny, erect nipple. Uhura looked quickly away when he glanced at her as he turned back to the AFM.

She laughed to herself and shivered a bit, blowing air out of her pursed lips. “I need to get a life…or something,” she thought.

“Dr. McCoy. I am here for my ear molds.”

Uhura jumped at the sound of the deep voice behind her. She turned and saw Spock standing in the doorway to the lab, her eyes widening in surprise at his appearance. Loose, black pants tied with a drawstring hung low on his hips and a workout jacket was open on his bare chest. His hair was slightly mussed and there was a tiny dark green scrape on his jaw.

McCoy looked up from his microscope and frowned at Spock. “Is Jim going to come in here all banged to hell?”

“When last I saw the captain, he was walking towards his quarters,” said Spock.

“I don’t know why you two insist on beating each other up.”

“We were sparring, doctor. There is a difference.”

McCoy shook his head and returned to the AFM. “One of you needs a girlfriend,” he grumbled.

Spock glanced uncomfortably at Uhura. She hoped that she’d shifted her gaze in time for him not to catch her staring the gap in his jacket. She smiled shyly.

“Wait over there. I’ll be with you in a minute,” said McCoy.

“Very well,” said Spock. He folded his hands behind is back, causing his jacket to open wider.

Uhura gazed at his chest and the straight, dark hair that lay flat against his olive skin. His muscles were pumped from exertion and a thick green vein pulsed in his neck. Her eyes followed the trail of hair below his navel to where it disappeared into his pants. She was three feet away and could feel the heat from his body.

“Lieutenant?”

Uhura started. “Huh?” she stammered, suddenly realizing that her mouth was open. She closed her mouth and swallowed hard. “I mean, yes, sir.”

“I asked, are you damaged?” said Spock.

“Ahem. No, sir. Um, my ears. Molds,” she said.

“Ok. I’m ready. Come with me,” said McCoy. He looked at Uhura. “What’s the matter with you?”

“No I’m not—nothing. I’m fine,” she said.

“All right,” said McCoy, skeptically. He glanced at Spock then did a double take, looking him over with narrowed eyes. “You’re in pain,” he said.

Spock stiffened, barely covering a wince. “Pain is a thing of the mind.”

“God damn it, Spock,” yelled McCoy. He strode over to the com and slammed his palm against the button. “McCoy to Captain Kirk.” The doctor waited, frowning at Spock. “Like I have time for this crap,” he said. He raised his hand to the com again.

“Kirk here.” Kirk’s voice was low and tight when he finally answered.

McCoy clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Report to sickbay on the double,” he said.

“Why? What is it, Bones?”

“Get your ass over here, now,” roared McCoy.

There was silence for a long moment. Uhura thought she heard a softly uttered, “Shit.” from the com.

“On my way,” said Kirk.

McCoy turned and glared at Spock. Spock lifted his chin and attempted to stare him down. McCoy pointed sternly to the next room.

“Get in there and lie down,” commanded McCoy.

“Really, Dr. McCoy. It is not necessary—.”

“We can do this here or in the brig.”

Spock pressed his lips together, turned and walked stiffly into the exam room. McCoy turned back to Uhura.

“Lieutenant, this may take a while. You can wait or come back tomorrow,” said McCoy. He looked over his shoulder. “And take off that jacket, Spock.”

“Uh, I’ll stay,” Uhura answered quickly.

“Suit yourself.”

Uhura had never seen McCoy so angry. He strode into the other room. She trotted behind him, trying to see over his shoulder. Spock was laying on a biobed with his hands folded across his chest, following McCoy’s movements with his eyes. An orderly clicked on the bio scanner and stepped out of the doctor’s way.

Uhura gave up trying not to stare at Spock’s lean body on the biobed. She picked an out-of-the-way spot and leaned against the wall. Spock crossed his longs legs at the ankle. His feet were like his hands, the toes straight and long and perfect. She watched as McCoy carefully examined Spock, murmuring orders to the attendant and ignoring the readout above the biobed. His jaw was set in a severe line but his hands were gentle as they palpitated Spock’s midsection. Uhura gazed at the strong fingers as they played up and down the smooth, olive skin, and saw the involuntary tremor of the muscles in Spock’s belly when McCoy pressed the area around his navel with the flat of his fingers. The lines around the doctor’s mouth softened briefly.

Uhura blinked. Spock was ticklish. She ducked her head to hide her smile.

McCoy grasped Spock’s arm and rotated his shoulder in its socket. The skin beneath Spock’s upper arm was very fair and looked as tender as an infant’s. She marveled at the dark thatch of hair in his armpit. He was always so clean-shaven that she’d always imagined that the hair on his body ended at the crisp line at the back of his smooth, long neck and that if he did have hair on his body, that it would be as scant and as fine as that on the back of his hands—the only other part of him she’d ever seen uncovered. She never thought him sexless but she did think of him as chaste, sweet and untouched. Spock was young by Vulcan standards—a boy really. But this soft, thick hair was a testament to his manhood and she shivered at the wonder of what it would be like to comb her fingers through it or to feel it against her breasts.

Her eyes traveled back to his face. His dark eyes were half hidden under his thick lashes and his full, pink mouth parted with a soft gasp as the doctor manipulated his arm. He was watching her watch him. Uhura felt her face suffuse with heat.

“God damn it, Spock. Even you aren’t stupid enough to believe that you could put that shoulder back into place with a healing trance,” said McCoy.

The doors to sickbay swished open and Captain Kirk walked in. He was moving rather gingerly and when he stopped at the entrance to the exam room, he winced and gently pressed a palm to his ribs. He was wearing a faded Academy sweatshirt, gym pants cut off at mid-thigh and flip flops. His hair was damp and the sweatshirt was stippled with moisture where it lay across his broad shoulders, as if he’d pulled it on without taking the time to dry after bathing. He took in the sight of McCoy easing Spock to a sitting position and decided to bluff it out.

“Bones, I’m a busy man,” said Kirk.

“Go sit on that bed and shut up, Jim” said McCoy.

“Look, doctor--.”

McCoy spun around. “In sickbay, I rank you so don’t try to give me any of that “I’m Captain Kirk” bullshit here. I ordered you to that biobed, mister. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Kirk opened his mouth then thought the better of it. He shuffled carefully over to the bed and leaned against it.

“On the bed,” ground out McCoy.

Kirk stared at the biobed with a frown. He tried to hike a hip up on the edge and back into it but his face went white and he clenched his forearm against his side. The attendant hurried over and half-lifted him onto the bed.

“I’m fine. I can do it. I don’t need any help,” said Kirk. His protestations ended with a grunt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Right,” said McCoy.

“I’m fine. Just give me an analgesic hypo and let me sleep it off.”

“You can’t sleep off busted ribs.”

“What? You can’t tell that just by looking at me,” said Kirk.

“Nice outfit,” said McCoy. “Couldn’t manage more than flip flops?”

Kirk looked away.

“That’s what I thought. Now just lay there and be happy I don’t kick your ass myself.”

“Nobody kicked my ass,” mumbled Kirk.

Spock raised a brow.

Kirk noticed Uhura for the first time. He tried to puff out his chest. His breath caught in his throat. “Ow,” he breathed, blinking at the ceiling.

“How are you, Captain?” asked Uhura.

He turned his head toward her. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “Are you injured, lieutenant?” he asked.

Uhura pointed to her ear. “Ear molds,” she said. “Just waiting my turn.”

“I see.”

As with Spock, Uhura gave up trying not to stare at the captain. The soft fleece gym pants draped the bulge of his sex. His penis was flaccid but looked thick and heavy as it lay curved against his pelvis.

She heard McCoy say, “Ready, Spock?” and she dragged her eyes from Kirk.

The doctor stood between Spock’s knees and held his forearm firmly beneath his elbow. He placed his other hand flat against Spock’s shoulder. Spock nodded, and McCoy simultaneously gave his arm a sharp tug and his shoulder a hard push. Uhura heard a muffled pop and let out an involuntary little shriek.

“You all right?” asked McCoy.

“I’m fine,” she said.

McCoy glanced at her with a grin. “I was talking to Spock.” He turned back to Spock and studied his face for a moment. “Ok, once more,” he said quietly. He yanked and pushed again and this time the only sound was a soft grunt from Spock. McCoy folded Spock’s arm carefully across his body and instructed Spock to hold it there with his other hand. Spock made a move to get down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked McCoy.

“I am in no further need of your assistance,” said Spock.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Can I not return tomorrow for the ear molds?”

“No,” snapped McCoy. “Dutton, bind his shoulder for me, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” said the orderly.

McCoy turned his attention to Kirk.

Kirk eyed him warily. Since the bluff didn’t work, he tried for charm. “Hey, Bones,” he grinned.

“Don’t you bat your eyelashes at me, Jim.”

“What? I’m not--.”

“Shut up,” said McCoy. He read the biobed panel and cursed under his breath. He tugged at Kirk’s sweatshirt, exposing his torso. A massive red and blue bruise wrapped around Kirk’s left ribcage. The doctor gently rolled Kirk unto his side. “Not only did you fracture two ribs, you have some minute tears of your intercostal muscles.”

“Is that bad?” ask Kirk.

“Bad enough,” answered McCoy. “Hurts more and takes longer to heal than just fractured ribs.”

“Come on, Bones. I’ll be alright.” Kirk’s voice came out in a wheeze.

“You could’ve punctured a lung. Spock, how many times have I told you that you need to pull your punches, no matter what this knucklehead says?”

“Four,” said Spock.

“Don’t be a smartass, Spock,” shouted McCoy. “As a matter of fact, just be quiet over there.”

Dutton the orderly snickered and received a deep frown from Spock.

“And you,” said McCoy, carefully settling Kirk back onto his back. “You’re not Vulcan. You’re human. Humans break when they get hit by Vulcans. What if you’d turned at the last moment? He would’ve fractured your spine.”

Kirk nodded contritely.

“Shut up. You’re not allowed to talk either.”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Kirk.

“I don’t know why I bother. I should just let him crack open your damn fool head,” said McCoy. He ran a Feinberger over Kirk’s midsection and frowned at the readings. He walked around the bed and pulled an old-fashioned stethoscope out of a drawer.

Uhura gazed at the doctor’s face as he listened to the captain’s lungs with his eyes closed. He pulled the stethoscope from his ears and pressed lightly with his fingertips all around Kirk’s ribs, working his way down. Kirk hissed when the doctor pressed into the flesh just above his hips.

“That hurt?” asked McCoy.

Kirk opened his mouth, closed it then said, “Yes.”

McCoy shook his head and moved his fingers under the waistband of Kirk’s shorts. The movement of his hands pushed them even lower on Jim’s hips. The skin on his lower belly looked soft, unblemished, a pale light gold, like a peach. McCoy plucked at the drawstring and lifted the waistband, revealing a line of coarse, russet pubic hair. Fascinated, Uhura saw that Kirk had no tan line. He had returned from their leave at SB80 tanned the color of light toffee. Apparently, he’d spent some time in the sun, sans clothing.

“What’s the diagnosis, doctor?” asked Kirk.

“You two are beat to shit!”

“Is that the clinical term?” asked Spock.

McCoy glared at them. “This is the last time I patch you idiots up after one of your play dates. You’re both on the ground for two days.” He finished wrapping Kirk’s ribs.

“Really, doctor--.”

“Bones--.”

“Are you arguing with me? In my sickbay?”

The captain and first officer exchanged a glance. McCoy could do more than just order them off duty for two days. He could put them on report, confine them to quarters or even have them thrown in the brig for disobeying his direct order not to engage in dangerous practices. They’d been here before.

“No, doctor,” said Kirk.

“Compliance does not present a problem,” said Spock.

“That’s better,” said McCoy. “I don’t want to see either of you do anything more strenuous than moving a chess piece. Jim, pick up your prescription from Burns on your way out. I want you flat on your back for the next twelve hours. Get your ass back to sickbay if your lungs start to feel tight. Spock, how long will you be?”

“Approximately four hours in a healing trance should be sufficient.”

“Make it six and you can remove the binding.”

“Very well,” said Spock.

“I’ll get your ear molds tomorrow. Now, both of you, get out of my sight. I can’t believe it! Two grown men acting like a couple of bone head teenagers. One of these days—.”

Kirk and Spock walked slowly out of sickbay as the doctor continued his tirade.

Uhura waited patiently until McCoy ran out of wind. He sighed heavily and shook his head. He gazed at Uhura for a long moment. He snapped his fingers.

“That’s right. Ear molds.” McCoy patted a biobed. “Over here. Let me get a look in there.”

Uhura walked over and gasped out a laugh when he wrapped his hands around her waist and hoisted her unto the bed.

“Up you go, little one,” he said.

He stood between her knees as he changed the head on a small viewing device, unaware of the effect he was having on her. He pooched out his lower lip in concentration, making her want to take it gently between her teeth. He turned her head sideways with a hand on her chin and leaned in close with the device to his eye. She brought her knees together. He didn’t seem to notice that she held his slender hips lightly captive with her thighs.

“This thing has a camera lens on the end. I’m just going to take a few pictures of the inside of your ears then we’ll be done,” he said softly. His breath feathered warmly against her cheek. She shifted her hips, moving closer to the edge of the biobed.

“Ok. Other ear,” he murmured.

Their faces were so close that they almost brushed lips when she turned her head. She used the movement as an excuse shift even closer.

“Be still,” he said.

Uhura froze, her heart pounding.

“How is that you can smell so good at the end of a long day?” he asked. He reached up and tugged gently on her ear, steadily clicking holostills.

“I, uh—.”

“Alrighty,” said McCoy, stepping back and turning away. “We’re done here. Come back tomorrow after your shift and we’ll make sure the new molds are comfortable,” he said over his shoulder.

Uhura hopped off the biobed. “Ok,” she said. She lingered by the door. “Is there anything else, doctor?” she asked his back.

“Nope. See you tomorrow, dollface.”

She watched him for a moment longer but he was busy entering information into a padd. She left with a tiny sigh of regret.

When McCoy heard the door swish closed, he dropped the padd on a side table and leaned forward with both palms pressed against the biobed.

“Whew!” he said. He glanced down at his erection and chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair and barked out a laugh. “Never had that happen before.”


********
End
girl6
9/07