#mcchapel

When they’d finally acknowledged their attraction to each other, as well as the tickle kink neither of them had known they had until then, Chapel had proceeded to tease him about his extreme ticklishness, getting him and herself even more aroused by a few more vicious tickle attacks, the ghost of her tickling fingertips still unbearably real on his skin while she’d been stroking his member to full attention with a pleasantly strong and firm grip.

And just when he’d thought he might die from all different kinds of sensory overload, she’d straddled his hips, and it had felt so awfully good to rub himself against the fabric of her uniform panties, soaking wet from her arousal. Then she’d accidentally dropped her hitched up uniform skirt, and for a minute his belly had got it so bad that he’d thought he was actually going to die. That dress was simply evil, the feathery light scratching of the material just unbearable, which was why Christine loved – and he hated her – to wear her uniform for ‘tickly times’. But when she’d started grinding against his cock in earnest, the tickling, the stroking, the rubbing, the whole combination of everything, had brought him, and her, to an unsurpassed orgasm.

Not to speak of the way their ‘first encounter’ had ended in his quarters after she’d finally untied him. That had been completely out of this world. And not least because she hadn’t tickled him once, not even inadvertently. After having been so dominant for the whole time in sickbay, Christine had completely given herself to him in his quarters, totally surrendering to his ministrations, letting him tease and edge her as long as he wanted to. And needed to in order to ‘get his revenge’ and level out the balance of power between them.

Without words, and he wouldn’t have been able to find the right ones anyway, she’d understood what he needed, what they both needed for this to work. And doing everything in her power to avoid any ticklish accidents, she’d allowed him to actually relax and enjoy. And he had enjoyed. God almighty, had he enjoyed. More than he’d ever have thought possible. It had certainly been the hottest, most fulfilling sex he’d ever had, and the beginning of the most beautiful, loving relationship he’d ever known.

Chapel had taken all her clothes and jewellery off, so that no hidden hemlines, chains, frills, or fringe would graze his ticklish body. She’d neatly done her hair up, carefully checking there were no stray hairs sticking out or hanging down. Then she’d taken his hand, gently guiding it towards her womanhood to let his fingers test if she was smooth enough down there, surprising him by seeming to think of everything that might possibly tickle him before he had to ask or tell her.

Being as full of compassion and empathy as he’d always imagined her to be, Christine had really understood the extent of his ticklishness from the beginning, and, unlike Jocelyn, had tried to prevent any surprise tickles instead of planning to exploit his weakness even more.

"I’ve shaved only this morning, but, of course, I didn’t know how important it would prove later in the day," she’d chuckled, gazing at him lovingly, then added in a low whisper close to his ear, "Wouldn’t want you to break down laughing your head off, when you’re supposed to fuck me silly."

McCoy’s breath caught in his chest at hearing his favourite nurse talk dirty, even as a shiver ran down his spine, remembering how his ex-wife had once made him suffer endlessly, tricking him into the probably most excruciating belly tickling he’d ever been subjected to.

Ordering the lights out before she’d taken off her panties, Jocelyn had assured him of being perfectly shaved, then had straddled him, lowering herself onto his hard, erect cock, until he’d felt the devilish stubble of pubic hair diabolically assaulting his unsuspecting belly, making him cry out with overwhelming ticklishness, magnified by the total unexpectedness of the fiendish attack, and rendering him weak and defenceless within seconds.

He’d always thought it was a cruel joke of nature that a woman’s pubic hair during intercourse would not just simply tickle his belly, but target his absolutely worst spots there to boot. A fact that Jocelyn had been perfectly aware of, and had decided to cruelly exploit for her evil amusement. She’d gone on riding him for the longest time, seeming to get more aroused the more intense his agony and accompanying shrieks, pleas and uncontrollable laughter became, his total helplessness feeding her greed for power over him, while his frantic thrashing and bucking stimulated her bodily desires.

The whole ordeal had seemed to go on forever, Jocelyn riding herself to orgasm after orgasm, her eyes shining with pleasure at his predicament, while her pubic hair was killing him, tormenting his belly relentlessly, until his body and mind couldn’t take any more and he’d blacked out. That had been the last time he’d had sex with Jocelyn, and she’d filed for divorce shortly after.

But Jocelyn had always been particularly sadistic regarding his weakness, taking every chance to tickle him beyond his limits and delighting in his harrowing ticklishness and the power that gave her over him. Unlike Chapel, though, she’d hated it in the bedroom, annoyed by the things that it caused to be off limits during sex, some of which he couldn’t even bring himself to do to her, because even the thought was unbearable for him. Like sucking her toes or blowing raspberries on her belly.

Christine, sweet, loving Christine, however, was the exact opposite. Devious as she could be during ‘tickly times’, she did everything to avoid tickling him at all other times. And while she was always looking for – and finding – new tickle spots on his body, testing what tickle tools and techniques to use on them to the best effect, she also lovingly memorised all of the ‘safe spots’ she found in the process for later use.

She never tickled him in front of others, she’d never embarrass him like that. In fact, she’d become quite protective of him, McCoy thought with a fond grin. Like shielding him when she saw him raising his arms to get something from a high shelf. It was sweet, really, since, obviously, he had survived all these years without being tickled to death while taking something off a shelf.

Come to think of it, she never tickled him at all outside of ‘tickly times’ in their quarters, or, occasionally, the private examination room, when they were in the mood for some role play. Like right now. Although Christine still found it wildly entertaining that the serious and feared CMO of the Enterprise was so insanely ticklish, and couldn’t fully grasp – no one could – how acutely harrowing being tickled was for him, she had accepted that he found it to be torture, and only tickled him with his consent. Basically, whenever they had sex.

No surprise tickles, no sneaking up on him from behind or when he was asleep, unless, sometimes, as foreplay. McCoy couldn’t remember ever being this relaxed in a relationship. Able to put his feet up on the couch, even without shoes or at least socks on, and generally unconcerned about leaving any tickle spots unprotected around her, fully trusting her not to take advantage. He couldn’t even begin to describe how comfortable and liberating it was not having to watch his back – or, in his case, any other vulnerable body parts, too – all the time.

Over time, Chapel had even managed to give him pleasant massages. Ones that he could actually enjoy and relax into, something he’d never even dreamed about before. Although limited to his back for the time being. All other parts of his body still wouldn’t be able to take it. Christine had soon discovered that there was not a single spot on his body that wasn’t ticklish to light, feathery touches. But she’d been adamant to keep trying, convinced she’d be able to give him pleasure instead of torturing him with massages, and dedicating many a ‘tickly time’ to this ‘experiment’.

It had taken some time and quite a lot of - horrendously ticklish - practice, but with the right amount of pressure, carefully avoiding all his tickle spots or getting too close to his sides, neck or underarms, she’d finally developed the right technique, and could now coax actual moans of pleasure instead of shrieking laughter out of him with her back rubs. Just like she could by smoothing out his hair and scratching his scalp, probably the one thing the doctor could unconcernedly enjoy in the world of physical touch, and which Chapel was happy to do for hours, grateful for any way to give him some real physical pleasure.

She was really something else, his Christine. And although McCoy sometimes wondered how he made it through ‘tickly times’ at all – it was certainly tickle hell, even though Chapel was always extremely careful of his limits, stopping the moment his laughter went silent – the sex with her afterwards was mind-blowing. And completely, reassuringly free of tickling.

It was when she put all her knowledge about his ‘safe spots’ to good use. Like biting and nibbling his nipples, which made him crazy with desire, or kissing down the line from his chest to his groin, careful to stay exactly in the middle and not touch any of his torturous spots further to the sides of his stomach or belly. And only with her hair up, of course. The devastation she could cause, and did during ‘tickly times’, just with her hair hanging loose, was indescribable.

Getting him off with her hands and mouth was sort of borderline, her fingers touching his balls almost unbearable, her tongue licking his slit and circling his crown absolutely lethal. But coming into her mouth was simply sensational, definitely worth a few ticklish jolts. As long as she didn’t keep nibbling or sucking afterwards, of course, but she’d quickly learned not to do that after tickling him half to death after her first blowjob. Unfortunately, with his sensitivity heightened to the extreme after his orgasm, her continuing ministrations had instantly reduced him to silent laughter, rendering him unable to get a word out, and it had taken several excruciating moments for her to realise that what she was doing was killing him.

Regarding all the ‘tools’ Christine kept lining up with undeniable trepidation, McCoy wondered what she had in store for him today. After all, she’d only yesterday jokingly complained that she thought he was getting more relaxed, and therefore less ticklish during ‘tickly times’, and he was sure she’d try to find ways to make up for that. Although she’d also told him that, despite feeling a little sorry that his decreasing sensitivity was taking away from her fun, she might enjoy compensating for that by being able to tickle him longer. Maybe even long enough for her to cum just from tickling him, an idea she’d been really excited about.

At first, they’d wanted to combine the tickling with the sex. McCoy had tried to get her off with his hands while she was tickling him, but they’d quickly given up on that again. Firstly, he had no control whatsoever over his otherwise so nimble fingers when being tickled, and secondly, he was unable to take the tickling for even a second, unless forced to bear it by restraints. In the end, they’d compromised, Christine tickling him with one hand while getting herself off with the other, making him go crazy with desire watching her masturbate through his own peals of laughter.

They’d got into a routine of tickling first, and sex afterwards. Although Christine usually came several times by her own fingers during ‘tickly times’, sometimes even jacking him off, too, when she saw that watching her pleasuring herself had aroused him enough despite all the tickling, and thereby giving him the most intense orgasms imaginable, tickling him relentlessly until moments before he shot his load. It was pure agony and unparalleled bliss.

Every time McCoy watched her climax, he was fascinated by how much tickling him turned her on. But he wasn’t far behind, he thought. Being so completely at her mercy while fully trusting her to stop before it killed him, was incredibly liberating. This total loss of control while knowing that she was taking great care not to push him past his limits, a wonderful sense of safety. And more arousing than he’d ever imagined possible.

He loved doing it in sickbay, where he could scream out his ticklishness in the soundproof examination room. But having to keep quiet in his or her quarters, pressing his face into the pillow when he was on his stomach, or having to be gagged when he was on his back, was a great turn-on too. Because there was absolutely no way he could keep his hysterical screams and laughter down once Chapel started to attack his worst spots.

True to her word, she’d never touched his feet again, understanding that this would definitely push him over the edge. Although with him getting a little more used to her touch every day, she was convinced he’d let her try again some time. And maybe he would, but surely not for a long time yet. Christine made him, however, tell her stories about past experiences of tickle torture on his feet, and he loved to touch her, play with her, and make her cum, almost shooting his own load, too, while he talked about that.

Tickle talk had definitely become as much of a turn-on for the doctor as dirty talk. Another fact that Chapel had instantly noticed and used to her advantage, mercilessly teasing him about his ticklishness and wickedly commenting on everything she did to him, thus making the tickling a million times worse. But much as her teasing bothered him, seeming to render him even more ticklish, he knew that he could easily retaliate, tickle-talk never failing to helplessly arouse her.

McCoy sometimes even teased her when others were around, whispering little reminders of how ticklish he was, or a quick hint at one of the ticklish experiences he’d told her about, in her ear as he casually walked past her, knowing exactly how terribly horny she’d instantly get. He couldn't help it, seeing her blush, her hips twitching, her breath catching, was just too adorable. Even though he knew his teasing would certainly lead to extra fiendish punishment the next time they were alone and Chapel could lay her tickle-skilled hands on him.

All of the doctor’s thoughts and musings were brought to an abrupt end, when Christine, having finished her preparations, clawed at this heinously ticklish spot at the top of his ribs to get his attention, almost making him jump out of his skin.

Today, she explained, she wanted to try a new position, straddling his face, so that he could lick and pleasure her core, or at least laugh and jerk into it, while she’d mercilessly tickle his belly, ribs, and sides, trying out all the tools she’d just laid out beside the biobed. McCoy got hard just hearing Christine say this, and couldn't wait to be sucked into tickle hell once again, eager to find out if this was going to be as deliciously excruciating as it sounded.

Christine leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side and groaning as her neck ached fiercely.  She’d slept terribly the night before and woken up stiff, after which a long shift in med bay had only served to worsen the tension in her muscles.  She sighed inwardly, hunching back over her PADD and entering a few more patient notes as the minutes ticked by toward the end of her shift.

“You alright?”

She glanced up as Leonard’s voice pierced the veil of her focus, distracting her from her work.  

“Nothing a little Ibuprofen and a hot shower won’t fix,” she explained.

Leonard made a wordless noise of sympathy, stepping up behind Christine and gently resting his hands on her shoulders.  She hissed a little as his fingers dug into her muscles, simultaneously feeling good and making the pain flare.

“You’re wound tighter than a guitar string,” he commented with a low whistle.  “I think you need something a little stronger than Ibuprofen.”

Christine frowned, giving up all pretense of finishing her charting.

“You know I can’t take muscle relaxants,” she warned.  “You remember how sick they made me the last time.”

“I wasn’t talking about drugs,” Leonard argued softly.  “I meant you could use a massage.”

Christine groaned at the thought.

“That sounds like heaven.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got nothing to do tonight, and rumor has it that my hands are pretty legendary,” Leonard teased playfully.  “Why don’t you head up to your quarters when you’re done and wait for me?  I’ll join you shortly.”

Christine bit her lip, considering his offer.  On the one hand, they’d been casual lovers in the past and he’d seen all there was to see of her, but on the other hand a massage seemed a step too far into the realm of intimacy for comfort.  He was nothing if not a gentleman and a consummate professional, but he was also her boss.  Still, the aches throughout her body were distracting enough that she knew Leonard’s warm, strong hands would feel like magic on her muscles and she nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“I would love that, thank you.”

Leonard smiled warmly, giving her shoulders one last, gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“You always jump at the chance to take care of others, so I’m happy to return the favor.  I’ll see you at the end of Alpha.”

Christine listened to his footsteps retreat for a few moments and picked up her PADD again, getting back to work.  She finished her charting in no time and with the Beta shift staff beginning to trickle in, she made a quiet escape.  She reached her quarters in no time, keeping busy with tidying up to keep her mind occupied.  With the way her heart was beating nervously in her chest, any distraction was a welcome one.

Having run out of things to tidy, Christine finally took a slow, cleansing breath, shook off her nerves, and went to change her clothes.  She opted for a thin, silken robe, leaving just her panties on underneath.  The robe left little to the imagination and as a knock on the door echoed through her quarters, she found herself feeling less than modest.  

She opened the door with her heart still pounding in her chest, gesturing Leonard inside.  He looked completely at ease and she admittedly felt a little silly for being so up in arms.  She knew he wouldn’t have offered if it was awkward or uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop her getting up in her head about it.

“Why don’t you take off the robe and climb into bed?”  Leonard suggested.  “I’ll give you a minute.”

Christine nodded, making her way into the bedroom.  As she neared her bed, she untied the belt on her robe, pausing with her hands on the lapels for a moment before shrugging the garment off.  She quickly dropped it on a chair near the bed and slid in under the covers, crossing her arms under her head and resting a cheek on them, facing away from the door.  A soft knock on the door jamb a moment later alerted her to Leonard’s presence.

“Come in,” she called.

He entered the room, moving to her bedside, and she realized he’d never seen her quarters before.  He’d always brought her back to his room during their trysts.  It made the whole situation feel even more intimate and she bit her lip a bit, tensing unconsciously as he sat next to her.  

“There’s jojoba oil in the bedside table,” Christine offered, her voice sounding a little strained even to her own ears.

“I brought something a little more soothing,” Leonard murmured softly.  “I hope lavender is alright.”

Christine nodded, stiffening as she felt Leonard’s fingertips slip under the top of her blanket.  Goosebumps sprang up on her shoulders as the cool room air hit her skin and she closed her eyes, waiting for Leonard to finish folding the blanket down around her hips.  She listened to the sound of him uncapping the bottle of massage oil he’d brought with him, inhaling deeply as the soothing scent of lavender washed over her.

She kept still, anticipating the drip of cool oil on her hot skin, but instead she felt Leonard’s hands settle just above her shoulder blades.  They were slick, allowing for an effortless glide as he slowly rubbed them across her back, spreading the oil across every bare inch.

“Relax,” he said quietly, his tone low and calmative.

Christine let out a long, anxious breath, the rise and fall of her chest settling into a more comfortable rhythm as Leonard began to press his fingers into the tightest of knots in her shoulders.  She winced occasionally, shaking her head in spite of Leonard’s concern over the amount of pressure he was using.  As much as it hurt here and there, she knew she needed it, and the spots he’d finished working on felt better already as he moved slowly lower.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain sooner?”  He asked eventually, fingers skillfully kneading at the tension in her lower back.  “I’d have been happy to do this for you days ago if you’d said something.”

“Oh, please, a little aching never killed anyone,” Christine rebutted.  “Though now that the offer is on the table, I might just take you up on it again sometime.”

“There’s nothing that’s off the table for you, Chris,” Leonard assured her.  “You know you can come to me about anything.”

“I know,” Christine agreed.  “But it’s still nice to hear you say it sometimes.”

Leonard chuckled softly, carefully pulling the top half of the blanket up to keep her warm before uncovering her lower half and resuming his ministrations on her thighs instead.

“I’ll make sure to remind you a little more often from now on.”

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