#genshos

Yes, exactly that. That-which-he-had-avoided-thinking-about-as-much-as-he-could, Spock just finally put some semblance of words to what the hell had been happening between them both for a long while now.

Stolen glances across the bridge that lingered for a few seconds longer than appropriate.

Working together in the sick bay labs, noticing they were standing too close, closing the gap a little further, Spock pausing.

McCoy grabbing Spock by the front of his science blues in anger during one of their disagreements and the fury filtering out of Leonard at the heated stare Spock gave back.

Spock pulling Bones from a treturous fall from a ledge on a beam down just last week, and their bodies being pinned for a few moments after the rescue, feeling the rise and fall of deep breaths of relief against the other, a subtle push and pull as they pressed their chests together harder.

"Listen, Spock, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—"

Spock held out his hand. "Cease speaking, Leonard. You misunderstand." With that hand, Spock took McCoy by the wrist and pulled him gently, but it took the doctor by surprise and he fell haphazardly into Spock on his desk chair.

He paused, gripping Spock's shoulder for balance and before Bones could retract the position, Spock lifted his knees to shimmy McCoy squarely into his lap.

The doctor felt his face heat immediately. It only got even hotter as he felt cool finger tips at the hem of his tunic lifting it and exposing his stomach, when the air touched his exposed flesh he groaned in the back of his throat.

Spock's hypersensitive hands must be feeling the tremor of anticipation in McCoy's abdominal muscles; the pads of those long elegant fingers could surely feel Bones' racing heartbeat as they traced up his torso slowly. He trusted the Vulcan was shielding his touch telepathy, to defend McCoy against betraying his own thoughts projecting to Spock, protecting his privacy even in this intensely intimate moment. Not that it mattered, as every goddamn emotion was projecting from his face and told Spock all he needed to know.

Stop. Don't stop. We can't do this. I've been wanting this for so long I can't remember when it began but all I know is if you stop touching me I'm gonna— Combust.

Spock's left hand joined the right in its ministrations, as though trying to touch as much of McCoy as he could, as though he were irresistible. Bones' shoulders shrugged up self-consciously.

Leonard knew the strength behind this soft sensuous touch, that Vulcan strength could easily snap him in two without any effort at all, and if that wasn't hot as hell— the physician's tension in his shoulders seemed to snap at the thought and he squirmed in Spock's lap, his hands coming down on Spock's thighs and holding on tightly.

"Something on your mind, Doctor?" Spock asked, cool and calm, the only indication that anything was getting through that Vulcan façade was clear for McCoy to see if he dared to glance down.

"Don't you mind me, Spock." Bones' chest rose and fell in one deep breath. "Carry on, then." He added haughtily.

Spock's eyebrow quirked. That bastard.

There was a beat where nothing happened, but McCoy straightened himself so he could gaze at Spock and gauge what the hell he was playing at. He was acutely aware of Spock's muscled thighs under his ass, and opened his mouth to say something because he had no idea what to do—And then those cool, soft, competent fingers rose higher and higher and warm palms smoothed along his ribs. McCoy groaned and fell forwards, his face inches from Spock's neck.