The Beginning Of Us

I'm happy--don't know if she knows that, but I'm hopeful. And, our present situation is far from ideal. She may not be happy in the sense that I am, but she's come a long way. We both have. One thing's for damn certain: I'm no longer afraid of what we can be together. I know we shouldn't be just friends; that's just not enough any more.

We can do this...

I'm happy because I love her. Feeling the same for me is hard for her, but that's okay. Every time she looks at me, it's clear that she wants me--ME--Trip 'the irrational' Tucker the Third. And that goes so much deeper than what we want to have physically. Connecting on so many levels now is definitely happening; it's just so fantastic! I never thought we'd be on the same padd even if the mission would have lasted a million years.

It hasn't been easy, not by a long shot. Too many times it seemed as though we were just too different, such opposites that we would never see eye to eye on anything, most of all being the way we are now. But wonders never cease, as my granddadddy on my mom's side loves to counsel. We do see this most important thing of all; we respect each other, we need each other and we want each other, barring reservations.

We trust each other profoundly at long last.

Whenever we're together, we have something like fire between us. It's almost like a living, breathing thing; don't ask me to go into great detail since I can't. I tend to think that it's partly a Vulcan thing swirled with my raging hormones. She is an incredible woman; as long as I live, I'll never know another like her. T'Pol's the whole package wrapped in age-old alien mystery. But with her looking at me the way she is now, we're a woman and a man who need to have their hands on each other--right about now would do fine.

She lets me kiss her, and I feel her wanting to deepen our exploratory kiss. T'Pol is kissing me back, while my jumbled thoughts tumble and roll with hers.

I run a heavy hand through her hair, hear her breathing rustle against my cheek and my delirious smile swamps the side of her face I've got my mouth burrowed into. She cradles my ear with the palm of her hand. And that's all it takes.

Next thing I know she's whispering to me in Vulcan; her voice is melodic as she speaks my name. I could listen to her like this forever. I hesitate though. Our captors think we're going to give them a freak show. They're in for a surprise, guaranteed. They imposed this union, but they have no clue how it is between us. The ceremony we were forced to participate in here on Tallusk IV, at the business ends of plasma pistols, was a mere formality in their voyeuristic culture. If we had not recited their version of marriage vows, we would have been fried on the spot. They're panting to see a Vulcan and a human mate to satisfy their twisted curiosities.

If we don't mate under their prying eyes, they say they can target Enterprise and vaporize her right out of the sky in fractions of split seconds. These faceless dome dwellers on this toxic, barren world are dyin' to be Peeping Toms in the worst way.

Little do they know that T'Pol and I have talked about the subject of getting physical long before we were captured by these non-corporeal nuts. They made the threats so now it's up to us to do what we've got to do in the best interests of our crewmates who don't know our present location...yet. So much for trusting our sensors that led us to believe there was nothing viable that could survive down here. We can't let Jonathan, Hoshi, Travis, Mal and yeah, even Phlox get zapped; they'd never know what hit them. 'Tippy' and me'll do what we've got to do. We'll give the s-o-bs their 'freak show,' no matter how sick they think it is, and it is, but I can live with it...I think.

T'Pol gives me that look I've grown so used to seeing. "I am ready when you are, Commander." Romantic little dickens, isn't she? I sort of wince, hearing how she is willing to make what our captors might consider to be the ultimate sacrifice...or near enough to it for her species. She leans against me and slips into my ear, "We must proceed if we are to insure Enterprise's safety."

I nod, never feeling so vulnerable in my life. Sure, I've dreamed about intimacy with her many times, but there were never disembodied alien spectators filling the bleachers in any one of my vivid dreams. She begins peeling my uniform from my shoulders, and in an instant I'm doing the same with her form fitting clothes, only a lot more nervously. I can't help but gulp, feeling anticipation building, triggered by her gentle touch.

We stand completely naked before each other, and say nothing. I don't have breath, and if I say anything, I'll sound like it. Besides, the way she looks transcends words for the time being. God--the sight of her bared breasts hurts my lungs, and I wonder if I'll ever get my wind back. The skin-suit does her justice, but, mercy, she in her birthday suit is a severe shock.

I've *never* seen another woman built like T'Pol!

I'm already hard as I drop to my knees and press my worshipful lips to her smooth, taut flesh. Her tummy's flatter than a padd's screen, but so much more pliant. She shudders when my lips nibble her navel. She drops to her knees then too, and we're kissing again; our grateful hands tenderly cup each other's face. I run greedy lips all the way to her browbone; her lips are just under my chin. The sides of her face feel so incredibly soft and hot enough to melt my palms.

I inhale sharply, and she asks if I'm all right.

Oh, yeah, I'm wonderful. I've died and gone to Risa with T'Pol as my roommate, and we're in the palatial suite on a ten-day leave--don't anybody dare disturb!

My hands slide down her firm arms until they are overwhelmed by her ample bosom. I don't squeeze. I don't dare, knowing that if I start, I won't be able to stop, and unable to control myself, I'll hurt her and hurting her is the last thing I ever want to do. I fondle her equisite breasts as if they are too delicate to withstand the slighest pressure.

"L'angik," she says submissively as I lower her onto her back and bonelessly nudge my way in between her thighs, as gentle as I can be because if I'm not, and I hurt her, I'll hate myself.

I've read up on Vulcan males and how dominating and callous they can be with their mates at a time like this. I couldn't believe what I was reading when I read that the majority of Vulcan brides have been known to wind up permanantly injured, on top of being disfigured, following the initial sexual encounter.

The rationality they pride themselves on flies out the window when, in the grip of the blood fever, the male libido slams into overdrive.

I'm human--all human--and I'll be damned if I act like some pon farr-crazed buck. How could I--seeing how hopelessly in love I am with this woman who three years ago I would have gleefully shoved out of an airlock and not have given it a second thought? It's absolutely amazin' how things can get so turned around. Now, all I want to do is make her happy, as far as she's capable of knowing what that's like.

All that I feel for this beautiful lady lying beneath me like whipped honey commands me to do right by her. It's all about her--only about her. "Darlin'," I half moan, half sigh, slowly easing myself inside of her. Before I can finish, she gasps, and I blurt, "If I'm hurtin' ya, you've got to let me know, sug--"

She grips the sides of my head, wedging my face in-between her breasts. "Not--hurt--ing...Ooooo."

Her silky thighs compress my pelvis with strength that spurs me on, although carefully. I bury myself deeper, and her raspy Vulcan speech gets slurred. My brain's misfiring. I'm so giddy, thinking straight isn't happening, and still I'm holding back, but it's taking all I've got with this much euphoria going on. "Y-you're perfec--"

"Do...not...speak..."

Did she groan, or did I?

Her hips won't stop rising, her thighs keep clenching. Her nails claw my sweat-drenched back before digging in. I'm warping out faster than Enterprise ever has, to stardate. It all feels so, so good; I pray I'm not dreaming.

A thrust...quickly followed by several more, gaining in intensity. We're hitting our rhythm. The aliens be damned!

I grunt, or did she? Not that it matters anymore. We are in sublime unison, and I press her body even deeper into the cushions that are the only homey touch to this arena our spying hosts have provided us to, as Malcolm would say, 'shag' each other in. At the back of my mind, the thought that they're watching us someplace screened off nags me.

Something fleeting touches my mind as pleasure runs hot and liquid through my body. I'm thrusting uncontrollably and T'Pol's moans turn into guttural wails. I'm hurting her, but somehow, now, not wanting to shrinks from my streaming thoughts that have been reduced to explosive imagery.

She cries out as I smother her mouth with mine, and then... I hear her shriek my name in the center of my mind; I pant out her name just as fever-pitched. She is firmly anchored in my mind's eye as I grind all the urgency I feel into her slick velvety core.

The vibrant images in my brain writhe one moment, then pound against my reason in the next. Still, firmly entrenched dead center is T'Pol, charging me to...let go.

"I c-can't," I stammer, riding out the wave of another thrust. "D-don't want to hu-hurt you if I c-can help it." Kissing her shoulder, then her collarbone, I hear her softly whisper through my chaotic thoughts.

'If you love me--you will. I need to feel you.'

Her voice in my mind is low and sexy as she wrestles my head down to her breasts again.

"Pleasing you is the only thing that matters, T'Pol. Help me, sweetheart!"

'Then trust me.'

"You know I do, with all my heart." My heart...the one that feels like it's about to break.

'You are not Vulcan. You will not damage me.'

I still have wits enough to realize that she read my mind. I'm not Vulcan, but that bond that's forged with mates isn't prejudiced so it would seem. I make one of her already stiff nipples stiffen even more, and when my tongue takes a breather, I murmur, "A big girl like you can take care of herself, huh?" And I chuckle against her heaving bosom before nuzzling her other breast with my nose.

'I do not wish to ponder anything non-essential. Now, I must feel what you truly are. Trip!--make me feel!'

"Darlin', I'm yours to do with what ya like--"

The thrust I complete is complemented by one more generous tilt of her accommodating hips. She moans, I grunt into her jaw where her damp neck meets her ear. I grit out words that make no sense, yet say everything that she needs to know.

And then we're there...we're so there, and it's hellacious, and glorious; it's messy, she whispers, and I shiver with laughter uncorked. I tell her that it's supposed to be, and she caresses my earlobes, her fingertips barely touching. It's smooth and it's rough and it's everything we've been, everything we are and everything we have to be so this soul-jarring completeness never stops.

I hug her harder than I ever have, but she doesn't make a sound. I feel her take her next breath, and feel tingling in my lower limbs. In my head she tells me that I am very strong, and gracious. I tell her so's she. She's surprised; I'm a lot stronger than she thought I could be.

Not bad for a puny Earth man, I think, gloating a little. My Vulcan lover didn't fracture me. I really got her worked up. I had her beggin' for more, in her unique sort of way. Mildly, she scolds me then, in-between similar thoughts I can't help think, reining me in.

'Don't let it go to your head, as you say.'

I grab the throw coverlet and drape it over us partly for modesty's sake, and her body temperature's dropped. She just shivered a little so I rub her arm. When I recover my power of speech I tease, sounding risque, "Which one?" She ignores that. Then waxing serious, I tell her that this is only the beginning. Shadowing my mellow thoughts, she wants to know what that's supposed to mean. And I squeeze her tightly again only to confess, "It's something I thought we'd never have."

T'Pol opens her eyes as her thoughts filter out of my mind. The bond isn't lost though, it's just not as strong as it had been when our bodies rippled with passion that cascaded like a chain reaction. "What is that?" she asks, her voice sounding a little choked, not as devoid of feeling as is her norm.

Playfully, I buss the tip of her nose and murmur against her puffy lips that are swollen from my loving abuse, "It's the beginning of us, Darlin,' and between you and me, I think we're off to a rip-snortin' start. You're every definition of gorgeous I can think of."

Her hand sweeps across my face, and fireworks erupt in every recess of my brain. "L'angik," she says as submissively as she had said the lyrical word before.

"What's that mean?"

"Beginning...which depends upon Enterprise locating us. I will not live in captivity," she says defiantly in the candle-lit cell, still smoothing her hand over my face.

"Details, details. Cap'n'll find us, bust us out of here in two shakes. You know Jon. He's like a dog with a favorite bone; he doesn't give up on anything that's important to him. We head that list." Tenderly, I abuse her lips once more. I tug a little on her lower one with both of mine. Instead of wanting to untangle herself from my arms, T'Pol continues to let me hold her, as though she's as snug as a bug in a rug, not about to upset a thing. I'm delighted; I didn't repulse her, and this being her very first time with anyone too.

Gradually, she loses consciousness. After I finish burying my face deeper into her neck, I think to myself that my longest drought on record has mercifully come to an end. I'm so glad that I waited to fall in love with the woman I really wanted since that first day she refused to shake my hand like I was contaminated. After what we just did, it's wild to think she ever thought that. Kaitaama, her royal 'stop touching me,' doesn't count. She used me, I used her. T'Pol didn't use; she inspired--God did she ever. We gave these devious deviants their money's worth. Chuckling, I satedly give T'Pol's neck a smooch.

Something not so funny strikes me before I drift off in needed slumber. These refugees from a peep show better keep their promise about not harming our friends, or they'll discover what a crazy man after sex looks like.

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End

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