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"Honeymoon" By Asso Rating: NC-17 Author's Notes: Incited and encouraged by your positive comments, I’ve attempted a second story. But this time, a very worthwhile Beta has helped me. To this anonymous editor, all my thanks. This is a short story that you can read without knowledge of the first, “Ulysses”. However, in my head, these two fics are connected, and “Honeymoon” comes before “Ulysses.” Like Vulcans say, there is no effect without cause. And sons aren’t born under the cabbages. For this reason, even if the sweetness and the love are once more the solid basis of the present story, this is slightly harder; well, honestly, much, much harder. But, you know, the delights of love aren't only platonic. Trip and T’Pol agree: it is they who told me this.
Three things: Note: The words in italic between (*___*) represent the thoughts. (Well, you know that T’Pol is Vulcan and Vulcans think a lot. However, they act, too ... oh yes... if they want, they take action!)
“Honeymoon? Vulcans don’t have honeymoons,” I say, my face deadpan. “Well, Humans have them, and since we’ve decided to get married on Earth and since your fiancé is a Human, I believe we will do the honeymoon.” I stare at my T’hai’la. He is gazing at me with a challenging look. (*Really, I do not understand why destiny has played this trick on me.*) This thought, unexpected, goes through my mind and instantly I rebuke myself: (*But . . . what I am thinking? *) My face retains the usual mask of perfect calm, but inside I almost feel … anger. Breathing deeply, I try to think logically. (*Destiny has nothing to do with that. The fact is that I have always found this man seductive, since the first time I met him, refusing to touch his hand, . . . frightened from his intoxicating scent and from his overwhelming presence. He was attracting me so much . . . that I gave him my body and my soul and my Vulcan heart, that I became his bond-mate and that I said . . . yes . . . to him, in the Fire Plains. In our place, as he calls it . I belong to him, like he to me. It is illogical for me to ask help from logic, to clarify a thing so illogical. Now, the only logical thing is to find a way to share my life with so illogical a mate.*) I feel a sense of guilt (*another emotion, to hell with him! *), which becomes deeper, because I have been thinking about Trip in this way and . . . I have been calling curses down on his head! (*I . . . am . . . cursing!?! This bond is . . . ! *) - I sigh with resignation - (* I hope at least he learns some logic from me.*) Trip is my T’hai’la, the man who became and always will be the other half of my katra. No one and nothing else matters. I am his woman, forever, like any logical Vulcan female toward her own bond-mate. And his . . . love (*Another sigh. Of simple acceptance? No, really no! Of . . . contentment? Yes! Of . . . happiness? Yes, yes, really yes!! *), his incredible, unconditional love gives me so much . . . Unconsciously, I sigh again (*The sighs became common for me.*). I need more meditation; but, this is a very small price to pay for a successful bonding. For him. It is nothing. And besides . . . Without him, how would I be able to control the emotions I sought out? The emotions I sought in order to be able to love him, not only in the Vulcan way, but also in the Human way. Because I was wanting his love, and the fear that my Vulcan-being might prevent him from loving me... That idea was unacceptable. Not only that . . . I feel I am much more complete than before we met. If I compare these stormy years spent on the Enterprise and, above all, these latest passionate, very passionate, years spent with Trip, with the previous years of my life, I feel those years were empty, . . . sad. Fortunately (*yes, fortunately! *) that time has passed. I never want those times to return. They are not a part of me. “T’Pol? . . . Hon?” I hear my T’hai’la calling me, and realize I have been lost in my thoughts. I startle, seeing my beloved watching me with a puzzled, worried look. My face is softening and I gaze at my Ashayam. A loving stare. I see that his features, too, are becoming soft, and those blue eyes, in which I can lose my soul, are staring at me with such love and tenderness that my head feels dizzy and my knees weak. I speak, straightening, trying to keep a quiet, controlled tone. “Very well, Trip. If you like, we will do the honeymoon.” The face of my T’hai’la broadens into a mischievous grin. “You will see, darling. You will like this honeymoon, too. " I lift an eyebrow, quite aware of the hidden sense of his words. His suggestion sends a pleasant shudder, in advance, down my spine. And I am no longer opposing the tight embrace and the deep kiss of my illogical, unpredictable, emotional, volatile, annoying … irresistible Human.
I show myself to the window, enjoying a sweet September evening that is extending its shadow over the houses of the village. The air is sweet and bracing between the hills. Slowly, their sides are growing darker, becoming indistinct as we look. I am softly leaning to the windowsill, with a definitely un-Vulcan-like posture. And, for that matter, it is definitely un-Vulcan-like what I have put on. For this night, for reasons that know no logic, I wanted to wear something special. I dressed while Trip was in the bathroom, because . . . - I sigh - I want to give him . . . a surprise. It is a . . . negligee, and very human — white, sweet and . . . sexy. (*Like the humans think a bride wants to be wearing on her first wedding night, while, with pleasant trepidation, she waits for her groom to join her in their bedroom . . . in their bed . . . to celebrate together their life, joy, and love. *). These thoughts are whirling in my mind. Almost in amazement, I realize that I can understand all that. With an tentative feeling of delight, I can feel the trepidation of the waiting, taking pleasure (*yes, taking pleasure*) from the sweetness of the landscape, to me so alien and so able, nevertheless, to give me serenity. It is like a promise of happiness, which, almost painful, is hovering on this ancient Tuscan village, where my T’hai’la wanted to bring me, immediately after the wedding ceremony, for our first night and for the beginning of our honeymoon. A noise behind my shoulders warns me that my husband (*my husband *) — the thought is striking me with force) has finished his "preparations", like he said, and is exiting the bathroom. I feel my trepidation growing, but I am not turning, and I allow my look to continue its lazy roving on the hills, more dark and indistinct, in the night, full of stars. I felt through the bond the surprise and the pleasure of my T’hai’la when he sees me, thus dressed, or undressed, and, inside me, I felt the pleasure of his pleasure. I feel his look on me. I know I am silhouetted by the moonshine through the window, so that my body, naked underneath the transparent negligee, is very visible through it. I feel his admiration. I continue to ignore his presence, showing indifference, in a light, sweet erotic play. I feel his desire. Within me, the trepidation is increasing. Meanwhile, my excitement and also my pride from his admiration and desire are rising. I hear that he is moving. He is approaching. He stops behind me. Now my trepidation and my excitement are very intense, and I realize I am holding my breath. I feel his warm breath on my neck. I slowly close my eyes, and his lips are softly stroking my skin. His strong arms are enfolding me; his mouth and his tongue are sensually fondling my ears, arousing in me a prolonged shudder of pleasure. Now he softly whispers. I hear the words: “Those beautiful pointed ears…” as he is sweetly biting my tips, arousing my trembling passion, melting my heart. He gently turns me, still holding me between his arms; then, his left arm continuing the hug, he puts his right hand under my chin, sweetly lifting my head, so we can look one another in the eyes. My eyelids open wide and I gaze into the eyes of my T’hai’la. He is lost in my look. I can see in his eyes, my soul, his soul, our life, together. The atmosphere has become so intense that is almost oppressive; so my Ashal-veh tries to relieve it. “Well, babe, are you liking this? I told you that Italy is the perfect spot for our honeymoon.” I lift an eyebrow, in my usual gesture. “It is illogical, the idea that the atmosphere of a place is able to influence the passing of the events.” But I am not able to suppress the hint of smile that is curling the corners of my lips, and my T’hai’la can feel my amusement and my gratitude for his attempt. He wants me to feel at ease. Suddenly, painfully, a thought occurs to us both. We passed through the sorrow. We harmed one another. Stupidly, stubbornly, I denied myself to him, for such a long a time, too long a time; stupidly, stubbornly, I rejected him, many times, so many times... ...so many times, that he wanted to leave... and his words are still aching. And when we finally approached one another, we continued to dance . . . for a too long time. Until Elizabeth. Until her death. We grieved together. We helped one another. We recovered together. We sealed our path. We began a life together. We understood. We now know. Only together, by the force of our … love, we can pass through the obstacles and the sufferings of life. Because . . . we are one! At last, we can relish the happiness. But the dark shadow of the past is still here. Will it prolong into our future, breaking our joy? Already it almost happened..., when... (*NO! I don't want to remember!!* ) My T’hai’la is the first who tries to rid himself of this thought. He seeks a way to give comfort to me. But, this time, no joking. He is setting down my head on his chest, his chin on my hair, his left hand on my back, his right hand on my nape. Slowly, again, I close my eyes, inhaling his comforting smell. I enfold him in my arms, relaxing in his tender embrace. Then, almost reluctantly, he breaks off the hug and takes my head between his hands with an endless sweetness, looking at me with an endless love. I understand that the moment arrived. From that first time... from the time that I seduced him and marked him as my own, forever, we have had many moments of intimacy and of passion, all of them intense, all of them different. But those moments were stolen, hidden. Also when everybody became aware that we were... a couple, because of my very... emotional behaviour, after... (*NO! I don't want to remember!!*). Also that time, although the warm complicity of the captain, of our friends, and of the crew was protecting us, ours was, against our wishes, a clandestine relationship. Now no. Now everybody can know. Everybody must know. This time... is our true time. Our first wedding night. Slowly, sweetly, almost with reverence, my husband lifts me on his arms, the left sustaining my shoulders, the right sustaining my legs. My arms around his neck, I cling to him, interlacing my hands behind his nape. We gaze at one another. Our lips tenderly brushing one against another, my T’hai’la moves us through the room toward the bed, stopping at its edge. And I am quivering. He looks at me with a tenderness and a passion that I’ve never seen before in his eyes. And I am melting. With infinite care, he puts me down me on the bed and, then, he straightens and stares at me. And I am trembling. I am returning his gaze. Love and lust in my eyes, slowly, languidly, I open my negligee, exposing my body, nude, to his look, to his desires. And I am shivering. He, stands in front of me, opens the robe that slides from his shoulders onto the floor. Naked, strong, powerful, he renews my ancient play of seduction. And I am burning. Finally my Ashayam is moving. He brings his left knee upon the edge of the bed, and supporting himself on his arms, quickly brings himself atop me. I hold him against my body. His head on my neck, my hands in the back of his nape, my fingers running through his hair, I am enjoying the silky feeling, taking pleasure from his chest on my bare breasts, my nipples hardening. I am opening wide my legs so as to give him access, to receive him. My knees bent, my soles upon the sheet, my thighs clenched against his hips, tempting him to take possession of me. But, before he begins the play in which I know I will get wholly lost, I open my mouth so as to speak with a voice so husky that I am scarcely recognising it as mine. “T... Trip?” “Mh?” With the tip of his tongue, he begins lustfully to kiss and stroke my ears, my face, my brows, my cheeks, the bridge of my nose, my lips, the corners of my mouth, my jaw, my neck. I gasp, still trying to pull out words, from among the moans of pleasure. “T... T... T’hai’la… y… you…” “Mmmh... Mmh?” He is holding onto my forearms, rubbing his own sex against my vulva, already hot and wet. He lowers his lips to my skin, and his open mouth begins to lick, fondle, suck, kiss with damp kisses my swollen breasts and the valley between them, as his thumbs are teasing my turgid nipples. I am squirming as I push his face against my bosom and my vulva against his penis. Nevertheless, even now as it is becoming difficult to think coherently, I try to speak again, struggling. “You... ” I groan, loud. “You... were... right... ” “Mmh?...” His mouth devours my left breast, his teeth gently biting the nipple, his right hand coming down between our bodies, caressing the inside of my thighs, his left hand rubbing and teasing the hard tip of my right nipple. I am panting and squirming in agitation, but yet I am trying to find the air so that I can finish what I began to say. “I... too... ” “Mmmh...” The middle finger of his right hand enters my wet vulva and then a second and then a third, which are encircling and stroking and teasing my clitoris. I am shaking wildly, no longer able to hold back the lustful groans. A red-hot flame explodes in my groin, his mouth and his hands making me nearly crazy. And yet, stubbornly, desperately, endeavouring to breathe, I attempt to speak. “I... I... I... ” - I pant - “I... too... I... I... too... like...” “Mmmh... mmmh... mmmh...” His fingers enter my vagina, which becomes on fire. It is my whole body on fire. I... am on fire!, the fingers of his right hand are torturing my labia, my vulva, my clitoris, my vagina, as his mouth and his left hand continue teasing and tantalizing my breasts and my nipples. I begin shaking, feeling the first signs of my building orgasm rushing through my veins. But suddenly, the fingers have withdrawn, leaving me empty and dismayed. I open wide my eyes. I cry, yes I cry. I pant, desperate. “No... no... no... T’hai’la... no... please... please...” I am imploring. “No... don’t stop... don’t stop... more... please... more... more...!!!” “Not yet, darling. I want you frantic...” And he smiles, enjoying his domination over me. A harsh desperate moan escapes from my mouth, but I gasp when I feel the head of his erected strong penis press into my vulva, against my turgid clitoris, imperiously demanding, entrance to my vagina. By now I cannot manage to speak. I almost can’t breathe. Mad with desire, I only can moan and shake, utterly at the mercy of my T’hai’la, my head rolling from side to side. "Aahh... aaahhh... aaaahhhh!!!" “Mmmhhh... mmmhhhh... mmmhhhhh...” He is mumbling, his mouth on my shoulders, on my neck, on my breasts. Then, he raises the head, looking at me. I stare at him. My face is sweating and imploring. I can’t resist longer, I can't wait longer, I can’t... I can’t... I am dying of desire! I haven't a voice and am begging him with wide eyes. (*Please... T’hai’la... please... make... me... yours!!!... Now... now...!!! *). “Yes …” he softly murmurs. He understands and has pity on me. He is bringing his weight onto his left forearm, and then he is pressing my left hand into the pillow. I am vibrating with wish and passion, sensing what he is trying to do. Soon I am lowering my other hand to hook my fingers with his. My T’hai’la is bringing our joined hands up over my head, holding me there, giving me something to hold on to when I must inevitably fall. I am holding my breath, I am throbbing, I am waiting. (*I beseech you... I beseech you...*) “Yes... my beautiful... wonderful... love...” He sweetly whispers these words and I close my eyes, quivering, shuddering, waiting, with yearning desire. And then... with a thrust of his hips, one single stroke,... he enters me! I am burning, drowning. He presses on, but it is endlessly sweet, tender, loving. He slowly lowers his head, his lips reaching my lips, his mouth kissing my mouth, his tongue forcing the way and dancing with mine. “Gghh!... mmhh... gghh...!!!” I am whimpering in his mouth, rolling my eyes. I am completely open to him, in my sex and in my mouth. In my heart, in my mind, in my soul. He possess me entirely, and I like that. I want him to understand and feel his total control over me. Because I am his. I always was his, and I will be his forever. (*Yes... Ashayam... yes... yesss...!!!*). By now I stop trying to speak. I simply can’t bear to interrupt the touch of our lips, with the tongue of my beloved moving into my mouth like his penis into my vagina. My head is thrown back on the pillow and I am arching my back, my eyes closed. I am completely broadening my thighs, raising my knees, wrapping my legs around his back, hooking my ankles on his behind, so that he is able to enter me deeper, so that he is able to take possession of me deeper, so that I am able to feel him inside me deeper. “Follow me, my treasure.” I nod and pant, ready to obey his guidance. His hips are starting to move with a first thrust. Then another. And another. I follow his moves, matching his rhythm. Withdrawing and almost losing contact, then pushing forward, my T’hai’la buries himself completely in me with every stroke. (*Yes, Ashayam... in this way, in this way!!!... Make me crazy and... dying of pleasure and... of love, in this way, in this way!!!! *). Only two sounds in the noiseless room: our sweaty bodies, which clash with one another at every push; my moans of pleasure. I can't speak, I can't think, only I can feel the pleasure... I am dying of pleasure! No Vulcan, no control, no logic, tonight. Tonight only a woman in love with her man. I want only to lose myself into him. He is filling my body, he convulses my mind, he brings me life and he brings me death, because with him I’m living and without . . . I am dead. He brings true delight to my life! “Mhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!” A whimpering groan of pleasure is crossing my lips, vanishing into his mouth as he is increasing the pace. My beloved is striking inside me with his powerful member, using my mouth and my vagina in the same way, his tongue and his penis coming in my body with a matching rhythm. I am trembling; I am moving restlessly beneath him; moans are continually coming out from my throat; I feel spasms in my sex, which are running through my body. I feel my orgasm approaching, I want the release. But I am not falling yet! (*Trip... T’hai’la... Ashayam... please... please... I beg you! I beg you! *). I break the kiss, shaking my head. I hear throttled sounds and the sounds... are my own. I am sobbing! I am sobbing for unresolved wish and for... love. Now my eyes are wide open and are imploring him for salvation. I am desperate, desperate, desperate!!! “Come, T'Pol... come... come for me!” he murmurs, softly, tenderly, with a tone of immense love. At these words, I am abandoning myself entirely to him. (*Yes, Ashayam... yes...*) and, again shutting my eyes, I squeeze his hands on the pillow, over my head, and I utterly entrust myself to him. And he takes me to the stars! He is thrusting hard into me!... More, more, more, more! Again, again, again, again!... Strong, burning, tormenting, uncontrollable! Thousands of lights in my eyes! A red fog in the brain! I do not know... I do not know... I am no longer able to understand anything! The fire flares up in my body and in my mind! It grows, it burns me, it annihilates me! And finally I feel it! I feel it is arriving! I’m about to come!... Yes!... Yes!... I’m about to come!... Only another moment! Only another harrowing stroke... And I fall... I fall. At last... I fall!!!... I gasp so loud it sounds almost like a suppressed scream. I throw back my head and arch my spine. I open my eyes just a flash and see the sweaty, flushed face of my T’hai’la, observing me fall. Lowering the eyelids, I abandon myself to pleasure, with lascivious delight in knowing he is seeing, hearing, and feeling my overwhelming release. The release that at last I’ve found! Defeated, vanquished, subdued, I'm coming hard and long. Over and over again, the waves of my orgasm are crashing through my body which jolts against his. But it isn’t over! As my inner hot flesh, vibrating from lust, tightens its grip around his hard member, it is my T’hai’la who is coming. With some last powerful thrusts he releases his hot semen inside me, emptying himself in my body, a groan breaking out from deep inside him, vibrating in his chest. "Aaaahhhhhhhhh... T’Pol!!!" I am shaking, burned by his climax, and I follow him in a second powerful orgasm. Finally I cry out, tears of pleasure, release, joy, lust, love rolling free from my eyes on my cheeks. From my chest is going out a growl, a moan, almost a scream followed by his name. Triiiiiiiiiiiiip!!!!!!!!...... ” “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh...” With a long moan of release, my T’hai’la collapses on me, trembling, burying his face in my neck. I slowly lower my heels on the sheet, but I do not lower my knees and I maintain the same position, my knees bent, my thighs parted, my body penetrated by him; because I want to still feel his strong penis inside me. I want to feel the last delightful spasms of my vagina around his member, while it slowly diminishes, yet still jerks inside my flesh — expending the remainder of his enchanting, intoxicating, ravaging power. We remain so, for some moments, panting, tight one another, his body on mine, enjoying the last sweet jumps of our intense encounter of love. Then he slowly lifts his head, looking at me. And he frowns. I know why. There are tears on my face and, even though I’ve cried in front of him before, he does not like to see this. He never expected me to be Human, but slowly he came to accept me for the Vulcan I am, for the woman I am. He loves the woman that I am. He does not want me any other way. He wants neither a Vulcan female, nor a Human female, nor any other female. He just wants me! (*Oh, my marvellous wonderful love . . . How I am able explain you? How I am able explain to you all the happiness that you give me? *). I want to reassure him. I want him to understand that he makes me happy. Yes, happy. I am happy because I have him, because I have his love. I am happy like no Vulcan can be. I am so happy that... ... I am dying of happiness! The bond isn’t enough. I know he wants words. Or, better yet, actions. Because he is Trip, a man of action. My action-man. And so, I do a thing I have already done, many times, but only with him. With him it is easy, it is natural... I smile! He opens his eyes wide, those brilliant blue eyes, in wonder and in joy. He sorts out his right hand from the tangle of our joined hands and delicately, tenderly, affectionately, strokes my moist cheeks with the back of his fingers, wiping away my tears. I tilt my head and rub my cheek against his fingers, half-closing my eyelids. How beautiful it is, how sweet is the delicate touch of his callous hand on my skin! I slightly turn my head and I capture one of his fingertips with my lips, I bite it tenderly with my teeth, and I slide over it with the tip of my tongue. (*You understood, Ashayam? you understood now? *). My look is full of love, as I stare at him, the question in my eyes. (*You understood by now that there are no doubts? That, by now, I have no doubts. I love you, my T’hai’la, I love you! Without boundaries, without hesitation, without regret, without indecision, without foolish shame. I needed much time, too much, Ashayam; but in the end, I understood. I understood, my... LOVE. I am a woman in love... ... I am dying of love... for you! *) An immense smile, sweet, teasing, arrogant . . . warming . . . is widening on his face. One of those smiles typical of him, one of those smiles that wipes away my ability to maintain control. And now, this is exactly what happens. I feel a overbearing impulse, without control... (*Control? But, why? I am his wife; he is my husband;... and this is our first wedding night!*). I lift my free hand, the left, to caress tenderly his right cheek. Then I place my hand behind his neck, and pull his head toward mine. My lips reach up softly to his and I kiss him. Sweet, sweet, sweet... With all of the love that I feel for him. With all of the love that I learned from him. I feel something grow, in my heart and in my body. Something warm, strong, yearning. Something… beyond description... beyond logic. I'm freeing my right hand also and placing it on his back. I break the kiss and I push the head of my T’hai’la against my left shoulder and his body against mine, his left cheek against mine, his chest against my bosom, my mouth on his left ear. I clasp tightly him to me. I clasp the gift that . . . destiny. . . wanted to give me! (*Mine, mine, mine, mine . . .*) . . . mine, mine, mine, mine!!!” I realize that I’ve given voice to my thoughts. The passion is too much and the feelings became word. My T’hai’la bursts out laughing. His chest is shaking against my breasts and my nipples are lifting, swollen and hard, again eager for his sweet tortures. Inside my vagina, his penis is rising and increasing, again eager for my body and for me. I am fidgeting, again eager to be his prey. But, this time, I must say it to him. Before the pleasure, that he very well knows how to give me, again makes me incapable of speaking and of thinking, I must tell him. “T’hai’la?...” I whisper to his ear. “Mmh?”. His hands are again moving restlessly everywhere over my flesh, outside and inside my body, his lips kissing, his mouth sucking, his tongue licking my face, my ears, my neck and again I feel I am overwhelmed by the desire and the pleasure. But, this time, I must say it to him. “Ashayam... you... were... right...” “Mmh?” His member is again moving, strong and hard, inside my vagina, his hands again teasing mercilessly my breasts, my nipples, my labia, my clitoris and I feel I am swiftly going toward the edge, almost ready to fall,... again. But, I must say it to him. “T... T’hai’la... A... sh... a... yam...” I am again gasping and moaning loud in pleasure, in this hell–heaven into he is sinking me, where the passion, the lust, and the love will wear out me all the night and more. I must say it to him!!! “I... I... too... aaaahhhh... I... too... enjoy... this... aaaahhhh... this... aaaahhhh…" Finally I manage to finish!!! Unrestrained, I am shouting, with an uncontrollable scream of pleasure!!! : “... this honeymoooooon.......!!!! ”
The End |
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