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McCoy's voice rang out from the bridge intercomn: "...and one more thing, Captain, I'll be expecting you bright and early, tomorrow for your tri-yearly physical."

Kirk grimaced. "I heard you the first time, Bones, I'll be there. Kirk out." He closed the circuit and leaned back in his chair.

Spock moved from his station to stand next to him. "Something wrong, Captain?"

Kirk scratched at his biscep. "I'm not a fan of Bones' poking and prodding."

Spock nodded. "Nor am I."

"Oh well, short of killing the man, what can you do? And he has saved my ass a few times."

"Indeed." Spock paused then said: "Captain."

"Something on your mind, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Captain. I must admit, I have been most curious as to why you refer to our ship's medical officer as: 'Bones'."

"Oh. That." Kirk shrugged. "It's a nickname. Short for 'Sawbones'."


"Yes. You see, Mr. Spock, in the early days of the Empire back in the late 20th century, if one injured a limb, the so called 'medical doctors' simply would amputate it, without anesthesia. Utilizing a hack saw, hence the name 'sawbones' was bestowed on the physicians. Patients would usually wind up dying from shock or infection. One day, I started calling McCoy 'sawbones' then shortened it to 'Bones'. The name stuck."

"I see," Spock said. "Most interesting."

"Yes. And being that Bones will still perform a hacksaw amputation on a misbehaving underling--upon the captain's request, if need be, it is a most appropriate moniker."

"Yes. I remember several months ago, I had heard several loud screams emanating from the sickbay."

Kirk grinned. "Ensign Green. Yes, Mr. Spock, the old hacksaw punishment. Quite the deterrent."

Spock nodded. "Effective."

Kirk reached out and tapped the first officer on the shoulder. "Hey, Spock. 'Bones' isn't what we used to call Dr. McCoy back at the academy, however."

"No?" Spock replied.

"No. We had an altogether different nickname for McCoy."

Spock waited a moment for the captain to offer up the information. Kirk didn't, but curiosity got the best of Spock. "What was the nickname?" Spock asked.

At that moment, Sulu turned around and smirked at Kirk, then turned back to the helm.

"Lassie," Kirk replied.

"Lassie?" Spock asked.

"Yes. After the famous dog: 'Lassie'. It was once a television show back in the late 1960's."

"Ah," Spock said. "Why the nickname, 'Lassie'?"

Sulu snickered but didn't turn around.

"Sulu knows why, don't you Sulu," Kirk said.

Sulu shrugged in response.

"Awwwooooooooo!" Kirk said to Spock, howling like a wolf, instead of answering the question. "Awwoooooooooooooo!" He grinned, all teeth. "Awooooooooo!"

"I fail to understand the signifigance of howling," Spock replied.

Sulu chuckled again.

"Captain, why the nickname, 'Lassie'?" Spock asked again.

"Mr. Spock." Kirk beckoned for the first officer to come closer. "I'm not gonna tell you. But all you have to do is just corner McCoy in the sickbay ward, bend him over one of the beds and you'll see for yourself. Awwoooooooooooo!"

Spock straightened up and cleared his throat. "Captain, please."

Kirk snickered as he got up from his chair and walked around the upper level of the bridge. "Awoooooo!" Kirk said again.

"Captain," Spock called out. "I am now off duty, I shall be in my quarters if needed." He walked to the turbolift door. It opened for him.

Just before Spock entered the lift, Kirk called out: "Awwwoooooooooooooo!"

Sulu laughed out loud. Uhura rolled her eyes. Spock raised an eyebrow.


For some unknown reason, Spock did not know--it must boil down to simple, exasperatingly insatiable curiosity--instead of stopping off at deck 5 where his quarters were located or summoning his personal guard to shadow him on the decks, he found himself exiting the lift at level 7. Alone. Halting in front of sickbay. If the captain would not answer his question, he would find out for himself.

He entered Dr. McCoy's office. The doctor was in the middle of barking commands at various underlings who scattered to and fro to do the man's bidding. The man's face was sweaty, red, blustery. McCoy turned and noticed the first officer. "What the hell do you want, Spock?"

Spock immediately grabbed onto McCoy's arm.

McCoy tried to shake off the steel grip but failed. "What are you doing, dammit!? Let go of me."

Without a word, Spock propelled the man into the adjacent empty ward room. He did not let go of the physician no matter how much the man cursed and yanked and he was most determined that his curiosity would be satisfied.

McCoy still tried to fight him. "What do you want, you green blooded bastard?"

"I wish to know why you were called 'Lassie' back at the academy."

McCoy's eyes widened. "Who told you that? None of your goddamned business, Spock!" He struggled in Spock's clutches.

"Answer the question, Dr. McCoy."

"Fuck you!" McCoy still tried to wrench himself free from Spock. "Dammit! Let me go!"

Spock tightened his grip, the pressure nearly enough to break the human's arm. "Answer the question, Dr. McCoy. Why did they call you 'Lassie' at the academy?"

"You're never getting the info out of me!" McCoy spat.

Spock flipped the doctor around by his shoulders, pushing him against the bulkhead. He held up a hand then pressed his probing fingers to the pulse points at McCoy's temples. "What is the signifigance of 'Lassie'? Tell me."

McCoy grunted and grimaced from the contact. But suddenly the information came forth, wrenched from the doctor's mind.

Ah hah. I see now. Fascinating..

Spock dropped his hand.

Sweat poured down McCoy's face. The man trembled. Those blue eyes were as wide as saucers. The doctor unsheathed his knife. "Alright, so now you know, you son of a bitch. Happy? I ought to kill you and butcher you for spare parts."

"Fascinating," Spock said. He found himself to be quite aroused. He grabbed McCoy's wrist before the man could react, took the weapon away with ease. He tossed the knife aside, the metal making a loud clatter as it hit the deck. McCoy watched him, seemingly frozen in spot. Spock removed his golden sash, dropped it onto the deck. Next he undid then removed his blue over tunic, leaving his black tee shirt.

"What are you doing?" McCoy asked. "Get out of here!"

"Silence, Doctor." Spock grabbed McCoy again and forced him to lean against a bed.

"Wait. Wait a minute. What are you doing?" McCoy demanded. "What the hell are you doing?"

Spock undid the fastening to his trousers.

"Wait, Spock! No. No! Don't! Don't!" McCoy yelled out. "Don't, Spock. Don't."

Suddenly McCoy managed to dash away from Spock. The doctor hurried off attempting to hide himself in his office. Spock gave chase and grabbed onto the man's arm once again. "Spock!" McCoy said. "Let go!"

Spock marched the man back to the ward and pushed him against the biobed. "Doctor, submit."

"No!" McCoy screamed out. "No! Fuck you, no!" He pounded on Spock's chest with his free hand, Spock loosened his grip. McCoy hit him with both hands. They grappled for a few moments.

In the midst of the desperate tussle, McCoy's face somehow got close to Spock's body. The doctor sniffed Spock's neck and then suddenly, inexplicably, completely relaxed in Spock's arms. At first Spock had thought he had injured the man or somehow McCoy had fallen unsconsious, or perhaps the doctor was attempting to trick him. But, McCoy remained as he was, sniffing him.

"Hmmmm. What is that...smell?" McCoy asked, his voice now soft.

"Smell?" Spock paused, raised an eyebrow. He released the man and pushed him away. Odd. "What smell? Do you find it offensive?"

McCoy came close and sniffed Spock again. "No. You. You smell good. Smell really good. Smells"


"Yeah, peaches. The Terran fruit."

Spock tilted his head. "Fruit? I'm not aware of my personal scent smelling like a Terran peach."

McCoy sniffed him again. "Mmmmm. It's definately the scent of peaches. You spray something on you? Did you eat a peach recently?"

"Negative, I have not--" Spock stopped and considered it a moment. Peaches. Perhaps that was the scent of the new shower gel he had used this morning. He had never used that brand before, that was all the ship's stores had had in stock and it did have an odd smell he could not place. "My bathing soap," Spock explained. "That must be it."

"Shower gel? Oh," McCoy breathed out. He ran a tongue along his lips. "Mmmmm. Interesting. I like it. A lot."

Spock's arousal was now gone. He backed away from the physician. "Forgive me, Doctor. I shall leave you now." He nodded at the man, grabbed his discarded uniform and headed towards the door.

McCoy ran to intercept him. "Woah. Now, wait just a moment, Spock. Wasn't there something you were fixin' to do?"

"Not anymore."

"Really?" McCoy got closer to Spock, sniffed him again. "Really now? Why not?"

Spock stood politely as McCoy continued to smell him, the man drawing in the odor through long intakes of breath. "You appear to enjoy the odor of peaches," Spock noted.

"Sure do," McCoy replied.


McCoy yelled out: "YEAH!"

Spock's eyes widened at that. McCoy now had the appearance of a madman. "Doctor?"

"The smell of peaches, it's turning me on, Spock!"

"It is?" Spock blinked. He glanced down at the man's crotch area, sure enough, the doctor sported an erection.

This time McCoy grabbed Spock's arm and pulled him towards the biobed. Spock dropped his tunic and sash on the deck.

"Yeah!" McCoy said. "YEAH!" He jumped up into Spock's arms. The first officer caught him. "YEAH!"

Spock set him down. "Doctor, I don't--"

"Shhhh!" McCoy pulled off his own golden sash, undid his trousers. He grabbed a bottle of medical grade lube, handed it to Spock. He leaned over the biobed, pulled his trousers and underpants down, presenting his bare ass. "Fuck me, Spock. Right here, right now. Come on, Spock, I'm serious, lube up your hard cock and shove it in."

"Doctor, I--"

"Fuck me. Come on, fuck me!" McCoy demanded. "You wanted to before, do it now! Come on. Please?"

Spock shrugged. "If you insist." He got behind the doctor, pulled out his hardening organ. He squirted lube on his hands, tried to stick an exploratory finger into McCoy's rectum.

"Don't bother with that," McCoy grunted out. "I'm stretched already."

Spock's mouth went dry, his penis grew even more erect. Achingly so. He slathered the lubricant onto his cock. Then shoved inside the doctor.

He thrust hard. The doctor took it and yelled out: "Yeah! Yeah! Fuck me, hard, harder!" Spock's testes slapped against the doctor's as he fucked into the man. "Ooooh!" McCoy said but squirmed. "Spock?" he whined. "Awww. You're're not hitting my sweet spot!"

Spock presumed the man meant the bundle of nerves near the prostate. He jabbed at various angles inside McCoy's ass trying to achieve what the doctor wanted.

"Still not hitting it!" McCoy said. "Wait, stop! Stop!"

Spock stopped and withdrew his penis out of the man. McCoy completely dropped his pants and stepped out of them, wearing only his boots, and tunic. He climbed up onto the biobed and lay on his back. He held up his legs. "Like this," he instructed. His arms splayed out, wrist hitting the table next to the bed.

Spock mounted McCoy again, slipping his cock into McCoy's ass, throwing the man's legs over his shoulders and resumed fucking him. And then he hit the prostate.

"Oh that's it!" McCoy shouted. "Oh yeah, that's it. Hit it! Wooooooooooooooof!" McCoy howled like a wolf. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!" he screamed out again. "WHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!" The doctor took his own cock in hand, began to stroke. "WOOOOOF! WOOOOOF!"

McCoy's other hand flailed about. He accidentally hit the shipwide intercomm switch at the head of the biobed...neither one of them seemed to notice. Spock was too busy fucking the man and trying to clamp a hand over that shrieking mouth.

"Shhhh," Spock said as he pumped. "Shhhh!"


Spock continued to fuck into him. "Doctor, hush!"



"WOOOOOOF WOOOOOF WOOOOOOOOOOF WOOOOOOOF!" rang out from the intercomn in engineering. Mr. Scott sat in his chair convulsing with laughter, his underlings looking on, perplexed. Every time a 'WOOOOOOOOF' was screamed out, he went red in the face with glee, consumed with hysterical giggles.


In security, Commander Giotto and Ensign Chekov smirked at each other as the intercomn crackled: "WOOOOF WOOOOF WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF"

Chekov adjusted his cock in his trousers. He'd like to have some of that, next.


On the bridge, that unmistakable voice on the ship wide intercomn blasted out: "WOOOOOOF WOOOOOOOF WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WOOOOOF WOOOOOF WOOF WOOOOF WOOOOOO!"

"What in the world?" Uhura hissed. "Captain, should I shut down--?"

"Negative, Lieutenant. Let's listen, shall we?" Kirk hardened in his pants. He reached down and thumbed at his erection through the black fabric. He smiled. Sulu spun around in his chair.

"Remember the old days, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk whispered to the man. "Fun with ol' Lassie?"

"I remember, Captain," Sulu said. He adjusted his hips in his chair. Kirk could spot the blossoming hard on in those pants, too. "I remember it well."

Kirk listened to the intercomm intently, as he unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock. Sulu watched his movements with interest. "WOOOOOOOOF! WOOOOOOOOOOF! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF! WOOF WOOOF WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!!"

Kirk circled his girth with his fingers, began to stroke, softly at first, then faster. He'd jack off and cum, right here, right now to that dee-licious intercomn chatter, squirt right into his hand, all the while Mr. Sulu watched him stroke it, licking his chops, salivating at the captain's thick cock. Maybe the helmsman would offer to lick up some of the cum or maybe he'll order him to do it, but later, the captain would take some of what Lassie had to give.


Just like the old days.