|
“Reconciliation” Part II Rating: NC-17 Author's Note: Thanks again to Distracted for helping me with this, and to enterprikayak and Bether6074 for helping me to beta this. PART II ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ T’Pol awoke, feeling fully rested and revitalized. It had been nearly a year since she’d last felt this way, since she’d entered the expanse. Her decision to resume her nightly neuro-pressure sessions with Commander Tucker … with Trip, had proven to be beneficial. She lay in her bed for precisely thirty-one minutes, looking up at the ceiling of her quarters, simply reflecting on the events of the past night. She’d been afraid, very afraid, but the advice she’d gotten from a much older version of herself had held true. Trip hadn’t spurned her as she’d feared. Instead, he’d stayed and encouraged her to embrace the emotions she’d unleashed upon herself. She’d been lifted from the depths of shame, fear, and doubt to … a sense of contentment, and a number of other emotions she couldn’t yet identify. The neuro-pressure had been pleasant as well. It had been comforting to perform the intimate procedure with Trip. But what does it mean? She resolved to meditate on the matter. She had time; there was no schedule to keep on the nearly empty ship. After getting up, T’Pol carefully made her bed, neatly arranging the blankets and pillows. Satisfied that everything was now in its place, she retrieved a simple robe from her closet and put it on. She selected her favored meditation candle and placed it on the flame retardant mat that covered the floor. She lit it, as well as all the other candles in her room, and settled down on her meditation pillow. Focusing on the central flame, T’Pol cleared her mind of all thoughts but one. “Trip can be an outlet for these feelings if you'll trust him,” the words of her older self entered her mind. The white space of her usual meditation space faded, and she was in her quarters again, and yet, not her quarters. It was still warm, and illuminated in candlelight, but the bed she sat on, the cup she held, none of it was hers. It all belonged to the white-haired woman that sat across from her. It had been strange to see a version of herself that was more than a century older than she was now, let alone to converse with her. The subject of the conversation hadn’t helped the situation. Originally she’d planned to discuss only ship’s business, but her older self had somehow sensed what weighed heavily on her mind. Confronted with Lorian, a physical manifestation of the whirlwind of emotions that stirred within her, she’d been overcome by a level of fear that she hadn’t known was possible. “If Enterprise hadn't been stranded in the past it's possible I never would have married Trip, but I can't imagine what my life would have been like without him.” Jealousy and overwhelming need had driven her to act on feelings she still didn’t entirely understand. She’d carefully planned the event, conducted extensive research into human sexuality, but she’d hesitated, at least until it seemed that Trip was leaving her for another. And yet, it hadn’t simply been an act of possessive retaliation, there had been more. As a Vulcan, T’Pol had been trained at a young age to discipline the raw, powerful emotions that lived within her, until they were barely noticeable beneath the mental barriers she’d constructed. It was true that often her emotions had come dangerously close to the surface, especially the negative ones, but Vulcan society saw this as something to be ashamed of, not to be explored. She had no basis with which to identify the emotions that had been stirred within her. This combined with the suddenness of their development had frightened her into pushing Trip away, in the vain hope that the emotions she associated with him would also leave her. There was no longer a need for that. Trip was a friend, and he could help her. But did it go further than that? T’Pol gazed into the face of her white-haired doppelganger and saw the affection the old woman still felt for Trip, even after being robbed of him decades before. She also felt an affinity for Trip, but was it the “love” that humans spoke of? Would such a relationship even be possible with a human? Vulcan standards set down very specific expectations for a mated couple, and T’Pol didn’t think that a hypothetical pairing between herself and Trip would meet these expectations. Trip would likely be spurned on Vulcan, and she along with him for daring to marry an irrational, illogical human. The T’Pol she was looking at now, the one who had loved and married Trip, had been trapped in the past with him. It was only because of this peculiar circumstance that the two of them had been free to engage in a romantic relationship. As Enterprise had escaped that fate, it was illogical to presume that she could have a successful relationship with Trip that went beyond friendship. There was that to consider as well. T’Pol knew that she already had something very special with Trip, a close friendship that most Vulcans would never allow themselves. He was already her trusted confidante, and she would regret losing that if a hypothetical romantic relationship between them failed. And yet, she wanted more, and she knew Trip did, too. She sat back on the soft quilt, and took a sip of the Chamomile tea she’d been offered. She savored its flavor as she listened to the advice of her elder twin. “There's a human expression, ‘follow your heart.’” What if my heart doesn't know what it wants? she asked all over again, this time more calmly. The older woman’s lips curled upwards slightly, and her pale eyes glimmered in the candlelight. “It already does, but your mind hasn’t accepted it yet.” T’Pol was startled. That wasn’t what she’d said! The cup was suddenly gone from her hand, soon followed by her other surroundings. She sat cross-legged in the white space again. Soon this too disappeared, and she was once again in the familiar surroundings of her quarters, safely in the present. T’Pol calmed herself and regained control of her breathing. It had been a startling revelation, but she knew it to be true. While she struggled to make a decision based on logic, there was a flame burning within her that she’d been ignoring for far too long. Her older self was right. It was time to embrace these emotions, and to no longer fear being burned. She studied the small flame of her candle for a moment, then leaned forward and blew it out. * * * * * * * * * * Trip stood at the door to the captain’s private dining room, feeling a little uneasy. He’d decided to come a little early to see if he could talk to Jon on a more private level before T’Pol arrived for lunch. Of course, now that he was here, he was actually a little intimidated. What exactly was he going to say to his old friend? He hadn’t really had a good sit-down with Jon since their mission into the Expanse started. Jon had become much more distant after that, and only more so as the mission had progressed. It was understandable of course; he’d carried a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. But even after they’d finally gotten home, the captain hadn’t gotten any better. He’d barely said more than a word or two to Trip since Enterprise had been dry-docked. And now, even with the ship mostly empty, the man had managed to avoid the few people who remained on board for days. Trip thought back to the last time he, Jon, and T’Pol had shared a meal, like old times. The captain had still been distant, but his spirits had definitely been lifted… and then, things had gotten really bad. Trip wondered if his friend had actually wanted to die on that Xindi super-weapon. Malcolm had told him all about how Jon had demanded to be left behind. It made sense in a morbid kind of way, especially because he’d gone off on that suicide mission at Azati Prime. And even though Jon had been spared both times, he ended up being drawn into that damn “Temporal Cold War” by Daniels again. So Jon had had the weight of the planet lifted from him only to heft the weight of all of time itself on his weary shoulders. After all that, it was easy to understand why Jon had become so reclusive, even from his closest friends. Unfortunately Trip had no idea what to do about it, short of siccing Starfleet Medical on him for a psychological evaluation, and there was no way he was going to do that to Jon. He owed the man his life several times over. Lunch had been T’Pol’s idea. She’d noticed the way Jon had brightened up during their last meal together, too, especially when she’d mentioned the possibility of officially joining Starfleet. Jon had given her a brevet field commission, but that wasn’t exactly the same thing. Actually, it was doubtful that it would hold up in any kind of official way, but then that hadn’t mattered in the Expanse since there wasn’t anything that Starfleet or the Vulcan High Command could’ve done about it anyway. T’Pol’s commission would be a good subject to begin with, one that wouldn’t make Jon too upset, he decided. Enough of that, Trip scolded himself. Wastin’ time thinkin’ about all of this. Trip sighed, giving his resolve a much needed boost. Well, here goes nothin’… He raised his hand to hit the door chime, only to have the door fly open before he could touch it, startling him. There, standing just in front of him, was Jonathan Archer. “Thought I heard someone stamping around out here,” he said. “How long have you been out here, Trip?” “Not long,” Trip stammered. “Just wonderin’ if I might be a bit early.” Jon gave him a wry smile. There was a knowing look in the older man’s eyes that told Trip his friend knew him better than that. “Might as well come inside and pull up a chair,” Jon told him. Trip followed him inside and hovered hesitantly at his usual seat next to the viewport. In stark contrast, Jon simply dropped down into his seat, and looked expectantly at him. He couldn’t help but notice the dark rings under the other man’s eyes, a sure sign that the captain hadn’t been sleeping. His uniform was crisp, his rank pins and boots were polished, and he was clean-shaven, but his face looked gaunt. The man looks like death warmed over, Trip thought disquietly. He couldn’t help but let his concern show as he saw the drained condition of his friend and commanding officer. “I thought you might come by early,” Jon told Trip flatly. “So what’s on your mind?” Trip was taken a little aback by Jon’s question. “Uh … well… I guess I was just wonderin’ how you were. Thought maybe we could talk for a bit before T’Pol showed up.” “About what exactly?” Trip chuckled and smiled nervously at the question. “Hadn’t really thought about that part yet.” His admission earned him a small smile from Jon. This gave him the encouragement he needed to keep going. “Truth is, I’m worried about you, Jon,” he confessed. “I haven’t seen you around in days, barely heard from you, and it looks like you haven’t been sleepin’.” Trip crossed his arms and waited for an answer. Jon slumped in his chair and sighed heavily. “You don’t have to worry about me, Trip,” he replied. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve been avoiding you, but with the ship laid up like this, I haven’t really had much reason to leave my quarters.” The two men exchanged looks, Jon evidently to see if his friend accepted his explanation, and Trip to show him that he wasn’t satisfied. Jon folded his hands on the table and looked down at them. “I can’t really stand to look at her the way she is now anyway,” he admitted. “It hurts me to see her this way, especially since they might decide to break her up.” Trip’s brow wrinkled with worry. With all of his trepidation over the right things to say forgotten, Trip pulled out his chair and sat down. He leaned toward his friend, willing him unsuccessfully to look him in the eye again. “So what have you been up to?” he urged. “Mostly going over my logs, thinking about the last year,” Jon replied morosely. “Command is going to debrief me eventually, so I thought I’d get ready for it.” Jon’s eyes finally met Trip’s. “Actually, I’ve been doing a whole lot of thinking lately,” he admitted. “Especially when I’m trying to get some sleep. It’s turned me into a bit of an insomniac, I’m afraid.” Jon might have hoped that this would make Trip feel better, like it was nothing to really worry about, but all it did was make Trip wonder what thoughts were keeping him awake at night. He could tell from looking at him, the way his shoulders were slumped and his back slouched forward, that Jon still felt as though he carried a great burden. Maybe he did. Trip could only imagine what was troubling him. “I’m sure the doc could give you somethin’…” Jon shook his head. “I don’t want to bother him over something like this. He’s planetside, catching up with some old friends and colleagues. He deserves it. You all do.” Trip could only look at Jon, awkwardly trying to think of something to say. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the door chime sounded. Trip glanced at the chronometer. 1300 hours. Right on time… “Come in,” Jon replied to the door. As it opened, neither man was surprised to see T’Pol standing there, dressed in her lavender jumpsuit. She entered the room and took her place at the table opposite Captain Archer. She regarded both men with an expression that would be unreadable to most people. Trip could tell that she was wondering what they’d been talking about before she came in. Wonder how much those pointy ears of hers caught before she rang the chime? Trip could feel the corner of his mouth sneak upwards as he looked at her gracefully shaped ears. A subtle look of annoyance from T’Pol interrupted his decidedly unprofessional thoughts. Trip shifted his gaze to Jon just in time to see him press the summons button on the comm. panel behind him. A short time later, Crewman Bently walked through the door carrying a box of ration meals. “With Chef gone, I’m afraid our menu is somewhat limited,” Jon explained. It didn’t really surprise Trip. He knew that with only around half a dozen people left on board that Chef was bound to take some time off himself one of these days. Still, he was going to miss the fresh-cooked meals. Bently set the box down on the table and waited, clasping his hands behind his back while the ship’s three senior-most officers looked through the box for a suitable meal selection. Trip was a little surprised to see Jon grab the meatloaf meal. “I’d steer clear of that if I were you.” “Why? Is it pretty bad?” “Not at first, but it kind of loses its appeal after a few minutes,” Trip replied, speaking from personal experience. Jon smiled and handed the packaged tray to Bently. “I think I’ll take my chances.” “Okay, suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he ribbed before resuming his search for a meal of his own. None of the meals sounded all that appealing, but he finally chose one. “So, which one are you having?” Jon asked. “Looks like I’m having the beef casserole with a side of corn,” he replied, handing his selection to Bently. All eyes were now on T’Pol as she attempted to choose between the only two vegetarian meals in the box. Trip had to suppress a good-natured chuckle at T’Pol’s expression. Both of her eyebrows were raised as if in bewilderment, and a slight frown graced her lips. “The bean and rice enchilada is pretty good, but it might not be as bland as your palate is probably used to,” he teased. T’Pol gave him the slightly perturbed look that he knew all too well. He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. “I believe the ‘cheese tortellini’ will suffice,” she replied, sliding her selection toward Bently. As Bently took up T’Pol’s meal and went to heat their selections, T’Pol returned the rejected enchilada to the box, then went a step further and neatly arranged all the meal packets that remained inside. Trip watched her with a smile on his face. “You should be more adventurous.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you would care to be more adventurous by eating something with nutritional value.” She said it so matter-of-factly that Trip couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Like what? Plomeek soup?” “That would be a suitable start.” There was another laugh at their exchange coming from the head of the table. Both of them directed their attention to Captain Archer, who was still smiling at them. It was a wonderful sight. “It’s good to see that the two of you are still getting along,” Jon told them. There was something about the way he looked at them that made Trip wonder, not for the first time, if Jon knew about how close he and T’Pol had become. His thoughts were interrupted as Bently returned with their heated meals. The young man quietly took up the large box again, and started to leave the room when Captain Archer stopped him. “Take the rest of the day off, crewman,” he instructed. “I’ll clean up.” Bently was taken aback. “If you say so, sir,” he said with hesitation in his voice. “I do. I’m in a good mood, so don’t spoil it.” Bently smiled, catching on. “Aye, sir.” With the young crewman gone, Trip could tell that Jon was being completely honest. He wasn’t smiling as broadly as he had been, but the laugh lines still sprouted from the corners of his eyes as he cut into his meat loaf. Trip looked at T’Pol, non-verbally asking her what she thought. Her only answer was a nondescript raising of her left eyebrow as she speared the first cheese-filled noodle on her tray. Trip could barely contain his own happiness; he was probably grinning like a fool as he started to eat his own meal. We should do this more often, Trip reminisced. It might not be one of chef’s juicy steaks with all the fixin’s, but the company was definitely good, especially now that the captain’s mood had brightened. “I heard back from Admiral Forrest,” Jon reported to T’Pol, taking a short break from his meat loaf. “He said that Command is seriously considering your proposal.” “That is agreeable to hear,” T’Pol replied. “If they go for it, I’m pretty sure they’ll go for professional-direct commissioning,” he continued. “It wouldn’t make much sense to have someone with your experience go through training and start out as an ensign. I’m not sure what rank they’d give you, but I’d like to think it’d be at least commander.” “Oh, I don’t know, it might be kind of nice if she were a lieutenant so I could give her orders for a change,” Trip quipped, earning him a wry look from T’Pol. “It is illogical to speculate,” T’Pol retorted. “Starfleet Command may yet elect not to accept my proposal.” Trip suddenly lost all his playfulness as he considered the very real possibility that T’Pol could be right about that. What if they didn’t give her a commission? He doubted they’d let her remain on board as a civilian. At least not in a command position, Trip thought, remembering Phlox. Trip studied her face as he thought about this, unsure what to think or how to feel, other than the sinking feeling he now had in his gut. His casserole suddenly became unappetizing. T’Pol must’ve felt him watching her, because she looked right at him. Her features softened, and she looked as if she wanted to say something. “They’d be fools to pass up someone with your talent,” Jon countered, interrupting the little non-verbal conversation going on between his two friends. “But you are right about one thing.” Both Trip and T’Pol looked questioningly at him. “I wouldn’t speculate too much about where either of you will be posted,” he told them. “As much as I’d like to keep both of you here, here might not exist in a few months for all we know.” Jon’s formerly cheery demeanor had now completely soured. Trip already missed seeing the side of his friend that he and T’Pol had managed to coax out of him. “You don’t think they’ll actually break her up, do you?” Trip asked him. “She is in pretty rough shape, Trip,” Jon replied. “Six sections are still open to space, the hull has been badly damaged, there’s major internal damage… But you’re the engineer, you tell me.” The skepticism in Captain Archer’s voice was overpowering. “She’s in pretty rough shape,” Trip admitted. “But it’d be a helluva waste to scrap her.” “How long do you think it would take to repair all the damage?” Jon pressed him, probably not expecting a very realistic amount of time. Trip let his tongue play with the inside of his cheek as he performed some mental calculations. “We’re in dry dock, so I’d say probably a couple of months,” Trip finally replied. “Provided there's a full work crew overseeing the refit.” Jon smiled, but it looked forced. “Let’s hope Starfleet is as optimistic as you are. They might just decide it’d be easier to make a new ship after salvaging as many components as they can from Enterprise.” Trip found the idea positively unsettling. T’Pol seemed to be just as upset. The three of them sat in an uncomfortable silence, which was broken only when Jon looked up from his meal and smiled at his two friends. “Enough about that,” he pronounced. “How are the two of you doing?” “I’ve been okay I guess,” Trip replied. “Been findin’ a few things here and there to keep me busy.” “I am well,” T’Pol told the captain. “I, too, have been occupying myself with several personal projects.” “I’m surprised that the two of you haven’t gone planetside with the others,” Jon pressed, looking somewhat concerned. He directed his attention at T’Pol. “Don’t you have any colleagues you’d like to see again now that we’re back? Ambassador Soval maybe…” There was a distinct resentfulness in his voice as he spoke the Vulcan ambassador’s name. T’Pol seemed to ignore it, or at least she didn’t look bothered by it. If anything, she looked troubled at the thought of meeting her old colleagues. “No,” she answered simply, refusing to elaborate. Something else I might want to ask her about, Trip thought as he studied her features again. She was doing a pretty good job of hiding what she was thinking about for the time being. “What about you, Trip?” Archer asked him. “I’m surprised you aren’t enjoying one of those famous Tucker family barbeques you’ve told me about.” Jon was smiling, evidently remembering the stories he’d heard Trip tell him during their time serving together. Trip hated himself, because he knew that what he had to say would wipe the smile clean off the other man’s face. “I’m afraid not, Cap’n,” he quietly replied. Sure enough, the smile disappeared. Trip couldn’t bear to see it, and focused on his nearly forgotten meal. “Oh,” came his friend’s only utterance. Trip knew that he understood completely what he’d meant. Only T’Pol was left to ponder what the exchange had meant, with only the demeanor of the two men to tell her that it obviously wasn’t good. Guess this didn’t quite go as well as I’d hoped, Trip thought ruefully. He picked at what was left of the casserole, but he wasn’t hungry anymore. * * * * * * * * * * T’Pol knelt opposite Trip in the warm comfort of her candlelit quarters. Both of them were dressed casually, Trip wearing his usual cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, and T’Pol once again in her Triaxian silk pajamas. Unlike their neuro-pressure session the previous night, they weren’t taking turns. Instead, they focused on the nerve bundles that were accessible as they faced each other, which was much more conducive to conversation. It also allowed her to look almost constantly into his eyes, which reflected the flames of the candles that surrounded them. They were … stunning. “So what did you think about the cap’n today?” he asked her. The subject seemed to weigh heavily on his mind. She continued the action of her slender fingers along his sides, not allowing the question to interrupt her gentle ministrations. Still, it wasn’t easy for her to think of an appropriate response. “He seemed well for a time,” she finally replied. “But he remains distressed.” The subject was somewhat uncomfortable for T’Pol to discuss, as her thoughts were focused on the gentle human man kneeling before her and what the decommissioning of Enterprise might mean for both of them, Starfleet commission or not. She was just beginning to accept the fact that she truly felt something for Trip, and that she wanted more from him than friendship. It would be disheartening to suddenly be separated from him, and she didn’t know if she could come to enjoy serving on another human vessel in the same manner as she had on Enterprise, unless, of course, Trip was assigned to the same ship. T’Pol could see her discomfort over the subject of Captain Archer mirrored in Trip’s face. She knew not what thoughts ran through his mind, but secretly she wondered if he was as worried as she was about what future lay ahead for them. She chided herself for being so selfish, but while the captain’s mental health was also a concern, it was not foremost in her mind. “Lunch was a good idea, though,” Trip complimented. “I think it cheered him up, at least for a little while.” “Thank you.” Her gratitude was genuine, but she preferred not to delve into the subject any further. She silently considered how best to broach the subject that she really wished to discuss. Trip was also quiet, seeming to be lost in thought himself. It was tempting to lose herself in the moment. His skillful hands played up her sides, sending exciting sensations into her very being. It was a testament to what remained of her mental discipline that she didn’t outwardly display any of her distraction. “I am a bit worried about what he said about Enterprise, though,” Trip admitted, breaking the stillness. Though elated to hear Trip speak these words, T’Pol nonetheless decided to allow him to fully express his thoughts before divulging hers. “In what way?” she questioned him, pretending to be only slightly interested. “It’s just…,” Trip replied with some difficulty. “I’ve really come to think of this ship as home. You know?” “Another posting could hold its own rewards,” T’Pol pointed out. “I have no doubt that an engineer of your skill and experience might be assigned to Columbia, for instance.” Trip shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the same. Home is more than a place; it’s the people around you.” He looked her directly in the eyes and added, “There are people here that I care about.” He seemed to stop himself from saying more, and simply gazed at her softly. Breathing suddenly became very difficult for T’Pol. She slowly leaned toward him, moving her hands to his back. She was centimeters away from him now. His pupils dilated slightly. His hands no longer stimulated the neuro-pressure points at her sides. Instead, they slid over the silky material covering her back. “I, too, have become attached to this ship and its crew,” T’Pol whispered huskily. Trip stiffened; she could feel the muscles in his back tense. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, her slender arms wrapping around him. Their lips met softly. She closed her eyes, reveling in pure sensations she felt pass between them. The emotions he evoked no longer frightened her. Trip. My Trip... * * * Stop Trip! You damn fool! his mind screamed at him, at least the small part of it that could still form coherent thought. It was happening all over again. His body was stiff with fear and uncertainty, but at the same time, he was incredibly aroused. His heart pumped faster, sending his blood coursing through his veins. Chemicals flooded his brain, drowning what little control he had left. He desperately wanted to give in, but, paradoxically, he also wanted to fight it. She’s vulnerable again. You’re doin’ it all over again, only this time you actually know why, Trip tried to tell himself. You’re a disgustin’ excuse for a human being if you let yourself do this… He fought so hard to make his body move, to do something, that he almost didn’t notice that things were different this time. There was no frenzied devouring of his mouth, there was no frantic groping or stripping of clothes. This was very controlled and specific. Her supple lips were on his, her hands rubbing softly across his back. He let himself go. He parted his lips and instantly tasted her fiery tongue. He’d never forgotten how she felt, how she tasted, but after having gone so long without, his memories were no comparison to actually having her warm body against his. Trip wrapped his arms around T’Pol’s petite form and tightened their embrace. Her breasts pressed into his chest, sending an electric tingling through his body. The heat of her body warmed him as he explored her seeking mouth. His chest tightened, as if the feelings he had for the woman in his arms were making his heart swell. He was so light-headed that he saw stars. He realized that he needed to breathe, but he didn’t want to part from her burning mouth. So what if he died now? At least he’d die happy. As if sensing this, T’Pol began to withdraw from him. Trip let out a low groan of disappointment, but he let her go, dropping his head until it almost rested on her left shoulder. Her lips found his ear lobe and pulled at it gently, teasing his flesh even as he struggled to catch his breath. Baby… took my breath away… Trip thought to himself with a smile. It was amazing. She was incredibly strong as she held his gasping form. He couldn’t believe how weak he felt in her arms. As much as it might have hurt his masculinity to admit it, he found that he didn’t mind. But there was still something he had to know before he went any further. He straightened himself until he was looking into her enigmatic eyes once more. “T’Pol…” His voice couldn’t come even close to expressing the desperation he felt. He had to know that this is what she really wanted, or he’d never forgive himself. He couldn’t fathom life without her now, but if they went any further, and she pushed him away again, that’s just what would happen. She started to rise, but her hands never left his back, urging him upward. When they were finally both standing, she answered his unspoken question with a whisper, “This is what I want…” Her gaze was open and sincere. A wave of relief washed over him. Her lips found his again. She pushed herself up on her toes and pulled him down to meet her as they hungrily devoured each other. Trip let his hands explore her body, savoring how she felt under her silky pajamas as he reacquainted himself with her form. She pressed into him, forcing him backwards until he felt her bed at his heels. Suddenly, her right hand was at the front of his sweatpants. She pressed her palm into his hardness as she softly stroked him through the thick cotton. Somehow, he grew even harder, until he literally ached. He gasped and thrust his hips forward, pressing himself into her gentle hand. As much as he enjoyed the sensation of her hand through his suddenly cumbersome clothing, he wanted more. Her lips left his once more. Her dark eyes gazed into his. Her features were soft, her lips still slightly parted from his tongue’s assault on her mouth. Her face never changed as her fingers journeyed down his body. She ran her hand with exquisite slowness down his back and then continued without pause all the way to the back of his thigh, slipping smooth warm fingers past the rear waistband of his sweats, into his briefs and over his bare flesh. Her touch sent a shiver through him. Her warm, seductive eyes never left his as her fingers found his waistband at the front as well, and slowly pulled downward until his pants and Starfleet blues were around his ankles. He felt her hands on his hips, urging him to sit on her neatly made bed. He let her wrestle his clothes from his ankles, until he was completely naked from the waist down. He caressed her shoulders, but gasped and let his hands fall gently to the top of her head as she knelt before him. Her hand found his hardness again, her fingers wrapping firmly around it, stroking him and nuzzling him against her soft cheek. He almost felt as if he could explode right then, but he held back, wanting to prolong the experience for as long as he could. Her eyes were still fixed on his as she caressed him, seemingly reluctant to miss any nuance of expression on his face. Though everything had been leading up to it, it was still a surprise to him when she suddenly redirected her attention and took him into her mouth. The moist warmth alone was enough to make him feel as if he was melting, but her tongue! A low moan escaped his mouth, rattling from deep inside of him as he weathered her assault on his aching body. He fell backwards on the bed, unable to maintain a sitting position. She followed him as he fell. One of her hands cupped him from beneath, gently massaging him as the other encircled his shaft, firmly and rhythmically stroking from its base up to her lips and then back again. He wove his fingers through her dark hair and closed his eyes, hoping that she could sense his mounting pleasure. An agonizingly short time later, he felt the pressure from deep inside him build beyond the point of no return. His breath became ragged as he came closer, and closer, until he could take no more. He climaxed with a gasp, every muscle in his body tightening, feeling as if his very life was surging into her hungry mouth. She never stopped her assault on him until she had milked the last drop from his throbbing shaft. She wasn’t quite finished with him yet. God, she knew how to use that tongue! Her teasing was almost too much to bear. She found just the right spot under his sensitive head to make him writhe and gasp from her lightest touch. He couldn’t decide if he wanted her to stop, or continue on until he died from the sheer pleasure she was giving him. Just when he thought that he’d pass out, he felt her pull away and opened his eyes, looking down across his chest and abdomen. The expression on her face made him want to hold her and never let her go. She might not be able to express herself the same way a human woman might, but what the softness of her eyes and her lips told him was more than enough. He managed to slowly sit back up with a hesitant smile. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. He might not have known what thoughts were going though her head, but his mind was awash with his own. He hadn’t really had time to do much thinking the last time this had happened. He’d just gone with it, allowing his secret desires to completely take over. Where’d she even learn how to do that? he wondered. Her statements about doing "research on human sexuality" suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Judging from past personal experience on lonely, boring nights aboard ship, he guessed that she'd had plenty of research material to choose from in the movie database... movies definitely not fit for mixed company in the mess hall. She seemed much more aggressive than he would have expected. He'd never seen Vulcans as sexual beings before he'd had that talk with Kov. That train of thought made him wonder. Did she want him to be more aggressive? Kov had satisfied some of the curiosity he’d had about Vulcan sexuality, even if at first it had embarrassingly been in the very public mess hall. He knew that when Vulcan men underwent their “pon farr”, that they acted completely without logic, like sex-crazed animals. At least that was the way Kov had described it to him. He definitely hadn’t been very shy the last time, but maybe she wanted him to be more like a Vulcan… Slipping her hands under his t-shirt, she pulled it off of him in one slow, smooth motion, taking her time to feel the muscles of his torso as she did so. With this last remnant of clothing gone, he was naked before her, yet she remained fully clothed. Somehow, that turned him on even more. Her admiration for his body was obvious. His smile broadened and he reached for her. His hands were on her body again, stroking her through her silky covering. He lightly cupped her heavy breasts, running his fingers softly along the undersides until they came to a button. A primal part of his mind wanted to simply tear the clothes from her body, but somehow he thought that might spoil the mood. He might have initially been taken off guard, but he was in full control now, and he was going to take his time. He carefully and purposefully undid each button along the front of her pajama top. Her breathing was as erratic as his had been earlier. He gently slid the fabric from her body. He slid his hands over her burning skin, trying to experience every part of her. His fingers traced soft curves and firm muscularity, so familiar and yet new with every touch. His skillful fingers found their way back to her breasts, their soft lushness offset by the hardness of her nipples. He gently caressed and teased her sumptuous flesh, and kissed her, a promise of what was to come. His mouth discovered a sensitive spot at the base of her neck. He tenderly sucked and nibbled, until he heard a gasp escape from her lips. He kissed his way down her chest, pausing to give her nipples the same treatment he’d given her neck before moving on. He pulled her to the mattress with him and rolled, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. His lips tracked down her firm abdomen and his hands traced gently down her sides to her hips, stopping for the moment at the waistband of her pajamas. They struggled together to get rid of these, throwing them to the floor with the rest of their clothing. He stared down in awe, taking in the sight of her most intimate place. Though this wasn’t the first time she’d shared this with him, he was still fascinated by her differences from a human woman. Her scent was intoxicating, slowly turning his mind to mush as he inhaled her arousal. The last remnant of doubt that had remained at the back of his mind was at last cast aside. He felt the overwhelming need to give her pleasure, to make her feel the way she had made him feel. He kissed the inside of her thighs, teasing her. He smiled inwardly at the frustration he was sure she felt, getting a charge out of her minor annoyance. It made the sharp intake of breath she made when his mouth finally touched her wetness that much more enjoyable. He soon had her writhing with pleasure at his ministrations, making sounds he almost couldn’t imagine coming from a Vulcan. At first she’d held back, as if she didn’t want to fully give in to the sensations, but it wasn’t long before a long lusty moan had escaped her lips. Her breathy moans only served to arouse him further. A familiar hardness was already making itself known again. He kept his hands moving over her as he hungrily devoured her plump sex, exploring her warm, smooth skin. His left hand made its way up her muscular leg, while his right snaked up her taut belly. Her muscles moved deliciously beneath her skin. It didn't take long for his inquisitive hand to find its way to her full breasts. He played with them, teased them, reveling in the pleasure his touch was giving her. She put a hand atop of his, intertwining her fingers securely with his before guiding his hand to the places she wanted him to touch. Her other hand brushed his face lightly, her fingers teasing the lobe of his ear and then twisting their way through his hair. He pushed his tongue deeper between her folds, tasting her unique flavor, and drawing ragged moans from his sometimes-lover's lips. Her fingers knotted his hair, but he endured the sharp pain in his scalp, well aware that she was getting close now. Her other hand left his and found the back of his head. He had other ideas. He gave one of her sensitive nipples a last playful tug before running his hand down the delicate flesh of her abdomen. She shivered beneath him. His fingers traced her warm skin, tenderly circling her navel, then settled directly above the sparse soft hair that framed her softness. His other hand left her thigh, and though he had to fight her desperate grip, he managed to make his way up her cleft, giving him enough room to slide an inquisitive finger within, followed soon by another. He probed her velvety sheath, searching for the spot that would be her undoing. His tongue focused on the swollen ridge that framed the top of her opening, and was rewarded by the sounds of whimpering, her soft cries becoming more and more tattered. Her breathing stopped as he felt her abdominals tighten. She pressed her hands to the back of his head and drove her hips against him to meet his assault. He lapped desperately at her juices, never stopping as she spasmed beneath him. Her grip on him finally loosened. He looked up at her, smiling. Using the lightest touch, she brought him up to meet her. She bit her lower lip gently, displaying one of the most erotic expressions he'd ever seen. He met her lips with a frenzied kiss as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing him tightly to her body as she thanked him for what he'd done for her. She was fire beneath him, drawing out his essence to intermingle with the slick sweat of her own exertions. Her excited nipples pressed into his chest even as the hard ridge of his maleness pressed into her firm belly. Never breaking their kiss, her hand made its way between them. He felt her grip his straining member and knew with certainty that she wanted him. He slid down her body, letting her guide him to the entrance of her inner warmth. He thrust himself deep inside her, both of them grunting as their pelvises met. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms tightly around his back. The sweat of their exertions mingled, their bodies meeting again and again in unified passion. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the room, neither of them having to worry about being overheard on the empty ship. His mouth found her ear, and he gave her earlobe a playful nibble. She responded by turning her head to the side, allowing him better access. He continued his exploration of her ears, remembering how much she seemed to like it the last time, the first time she'd ever let him get this close to her. He teased the sensitive tip of her exquisite ear, which even now he silently admitted to having a fixation for. Pointy ear fetish… that has to be a new one, Trip thought wickedly to himself. He couldn't believe the noises she was making, unrestrained, yet not quite the same as before. He had a pang of guilt at the thought, and his tempo faltered. She drew her arms up his back and pulled him tighter. He felt her heels press into his behind, urging him to finish what he started. She whispered alien words softly into his ear, and even though he didn't understand a word of it, he sure liked the way it sounded. His mind became tattered again, and he forgot any other distractions. All too soon he began to feel the pressure building up inside him again. He'd wanted to go slower, to draw it out longer, but her arms and her legs insisted that he go faster, harder. He knew that she was getting close too, her breathing becoming ragged. It gave him the drive to hold out for just a little bit longer… Ladies come first… Her fingernails cut into his back as she wailed his name, but the pain barely registered. Her undoing was his as well, both of them losing themselves in that moment —a moment which seemed to go on almost an eternity. He let out one last, sorrowful moan, drained, and sad because there was already fear in the back of his mind. She shuddered deliciously beneath him, finally coming down from her peak. Her grip on him loosened and she was suddenly silent. He was almost afraid of what he might see when he looked into her eyes. He wasn't sure what he saw there, but he felt in the pit of his stomach that it wasn't good. He let himself slide off of her, and she rolled with him. For a long time, they just lay there on their sides, giving each other nervous, fleeting looks. You've done it again, Trip, he thought dejectedly to himself. With one last look at her beautiful face, he started to go, expecting to spend the rest of the night, and many nights to come, alone in his own bed. Her hand was suddenly gripping his arm. He stopped, looking from her hand to her face with confusion. She stared at him with pleading eyes that begged him to stay. Trip felt a warmth from within that he hadn't experienced in a long time. This time was different. The two of them simply lay there, wrapped in each other's arms. Trip couldn't keep track of all the things running through his mind. The cynical part of him wondered if this was somehow just a dream, so he kept running his fingers softly over her warm, moist skin to prove to himself that she was real. He searched within himself for meaning. He liked to think of himself as an old-fashioned romantic, that you only did something like this with the one you loved, but he wasn't sure. He definitely cared about her, very deeply. She was more than a friend. She'd opened up to him, so it was more than lust, and jealousy had played no part in it this time. Could they really make something out of this? After all, she was a Vulcan, and he was a human, they were literally worlds apart, and yet somehow, it felt right. She found a comfortable spot to rest her head on his chest. He kissed her forehead and rested his chin among the wet tangles of her hair. He sighed with contentment, and let sleep take him. ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ To Be Continued… |
Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.
Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.