amedia: (Bones)
[personal profile] amedia
Story title: Never in My Wildest Dreams
Author: Amedia
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Star Trek (Classic)
Characters: McCoy, M'Benga, Chapel, Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, Spock
Ships: That would be telling!
Summary: Everyone on the Enterprise expresses a sexual interest in McCoy.
Word Count: 350
Author's note: Prompt fic for [personal profile] cruisedirector, who requested the fandom Star Trek, Pairing: McCoy/anyone or everyone, Prompts: wildest fantasy, if they only knew



McCoy didn’t realize he was dreaming until he walked into one of the diagnostic labs and found it transformed into a bondage dungeon. “Hi there, Len,” called M’Benga who was strapped, upside-down, into a convoluted apparatus. “Want to join us?”

Chapel put down her flail and turned around. “Love to have you!” she added with a friendly grin very much at odds with her form-fitting black vinyl catsuit and spiked heels.

“I appreciate the invitation,” McCoy said, “but I’m needed on the bridge.”

“Another time, then!” they chorused cheerfully.






McCoy stepped out onto the bridge and looked around warily, but everything looked normal at first glance. “Hello, sugar,” purred Uhura.

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” McCoy responded cautiously, walking over to her station.

She laughed pleasantly, looking up at him with a smile. “You know I don’t usually swing that way ...” she began, and he noticed a photo sitting on her console in a heart-shaped frame, of Paola, one of the torpedo techs. Uhura continued. “But for you, I might make an exception.”

A deeper voice with a Scottish burr spoke unexpectedly close; he hadn’t heard Scotty come up behind him. “I might say the same thing, laddie.”

Startled, McCoy looked around at the rest of the bridge and noticed Sulu & Chekov holding hands across the console; they both turned and winked invitingly.

The command chair, however, was empty. “Where’s the Captain?” McCoy asked.

Spock turned from the science station. “He’s not here right now, Doctor,” he said in his normal voice. Then he stepped closer, much closer, and breathed, “Will I do?”

McCoy looked into Spock’s face, barely an inch from his own. He could have sworn that he could feel the heat radiating from Spock's body. “Oh yes, Mr. Spock,” he said. “You’ll do quite nicely.”






McCoy sat up abruptly in his bed, his pulse racing. “Never in my wildest dreams ...” he murmured aloud. “With the whole crew to choose from--I still picked that pointy-eared hobgoblin.”

“Logical,” said a sleepy voice from the other side of the bed. “Flawlessly logical.”
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