Interface
T'Pol thought about what was going to happen over the course of the next few
minutes all the way back to her cabin. She and the Chief Engineer...exchanging
biological and genetic materials. Her heart rate had increased. The
constriction she felt within her private depths fascinated her. The prospect of
being with the Commander for the expressed purpose of being intimate with him
would change her in so many ways.
Her first human male... She allowed a small smile, that would never have been taken as one by a casual observer, to grace her lips. They had drained of color. The thought struck her that maybe the act should not be performed unprotected. She grew lightheaded, as her body heeded the call which was as old as life itself.
She wondered what the Chief Engineer was thinking as she paused before entering her quarters. Their bond was in its elementary stages; weak and incomplete. Any increase in its strength depended upon their continued contact, both physically and mentally...and it being prolonged.
Hoshi's words came to her mind again as the gang up of tender emotions left her in a quandry. She did not want to squelch her feelings; not this time. She wanted her feelings for the intelligent Commander with palpable boyish charm to grow even stronger.
Charles 'Trip' Tucker, she thought, the all-too-human man, possessing scintillating eyes, who never failed to perplex her. Without further vacillation she knew she wanted him, to satisfy him because she did care for him...deeply. There was also the matter of her curiosity needing to be satisfied too. She need closure.
He was the one who had started this strange cohesion between them. She'd be the one to prescribe the parameters.
...Or so she thought.
She had her misgivings, just as any Vulcan woman surely would have, trying to come to terms with such a unique situation. A calm voice from within told her that what the Commander and she would do was the essence of cogency.
She entered her quarters, her pulse racing, to find her cabin starkly empty. A wave of edgy sadness swept through her. She had remained too long with Ensign Sato. The Commander had grown tired waiting for her, his enthusiasm had waned, and he had left.
T'Pol bit her puffy bottom lip. Dejection, sharp and true, engulfed her. She lowered herself to her bunk, beginning to doubt the wisdom of having let her emotions run wild.
She had misjudged his depth of attraction. He was fickle, and she should have known better than to turn her back on who and what she was.
She would not make the same mistake again. The logic rented her sensibilities like a two-edged sword. She brought her slender legs up and wrapped her sculpted arms around them.
She determined that there was no looking back or going forward with the Commander. There was the working relationship and nothing more than that. What else could there really be? He, human...she Vulcan...it was like mixing oil with water; an impossible solution, an unnatural combination. It was the obvious reason for his no longer being here.
T'Pol leaned her furrowed forehead into her thighs, letting an almost inaudible sigh brush past her parted lips. And still, she wanted him, and the wanting made his absence all the more painful.
She wanted to feel his insistent arms around her yielding body. She yearned to have his warm, metallic-scented breath against her face. She closed her eyes which felt heavily weighed down. Sleep would be hard without purgative meditation first. Meditating with a depleted heart, a heart choked by emotions run amuck, would be a first. It wasn't 'the first' she had anticipated.
"Well now, darlin', you sure took your sweet time about gettin' back here. I was beginnin' to think--"
"Commander!" T'Pol's honed stare searched his surprised face thoroughly once she had yanked her head away from her legs. "I assumed you had gone..."
"Hell no." He jerked his thumb at the wall that obscured the entrance to the bathroom. "Had to visit the can." He came closer to her side of the room, unable to read what was in her eyes; those immutably lovely eyes. "Things went okay with Hoshi?" He sank down upon the bunk alongside her. He held his breath. "What is it?"
"What is what?" she asked barely above a whisper. She was sure he could hear the roaring of her pulse with his sitting so close.
"Are you all right?" He debated for a moment and decided it would be allowable, resting his hand over hers.
"Yes. Yes, I am." She willed composure into the fabric of her countenance. The already soft lighting in the room seemed to dim further. She could not bring herself to look him in his eyes. She would have seen them glistening with their intensity.
"Y'sure about that?" He squeezed her hand just enough so the contact wouldn't spook her. She appeared more skittish than a newborn colt. "You look a little... antsy, is all."
Debating, she startled him, in a nice way though, when he felt her hand squeeze his back. She didn't stop with the squeeze. She tugged on hand, moving it towards her belly. "I thought you had decided to go because you had judged our. This..." She focused on their entwined hands. "Incorrect. Undesirable."
Trip gawked at her, and then snapped his mouth shut, wagging his head. "Not on your life, sugar." He flattened his palm flush with her tummy, and smiled into her eyes that were hypnotic. "I was prepared to camp out here all night if that's what it took." His emotive face veered invitingly close to hers, and he said in a soft, sultry voice, "Hello..."
Confused over why he was offering a greeting, she remained transfixed, with all the credibility of the Egyptian sphinx.
"Feelin' better?" Trip rustled close to her right cheek, feasting on its supple elegance.
T'Pol nodded once. She was aware that his fingers were designing invisible whorls on her skin where the tank top she wore didn't reach, just below her outie of a bellybutton.
Her breathing shallowed even more, and the combined lightness of the Commander's eyes and hair clouded her thought. Why concentrate on what to do next when he made it this simple for her?
He wanted to kiss her. She wanted him to. It was the right thing to do. Her emotions were fizzing like streamers for his labial caress. This time when their lips melded, the passion was controlled, savored and allowed to build of its own volition.
Buried within the mutual embrace, they felt as if they had transcended the flimsy vessel which carried them onward through space.
"God, T'Pol...y-you're so fine," Tucker softly tucked into the corner of her mouth which hung partially-open. He noted how sweetly the nostrils of her proud nose flared as though something in the air had forced them wide open. Eagerly, his lips nibbled on the peak of her nose. "Glad I hung around?"
She nodded against his grinning face. Her small nods incited him, and he held her tighter. Instead of inuring herself to his possessive hold, this go 'round, she encouraged him. She wormed her hand to his chest, and feeling the nipple beneath his suit, flattened her hand against it, with fingers splayed. Alternately then, with a gentle yet firm touch, she cupped and kneaded the flesh that was rapidly heating up, beneath the utilitarian uniform.
The Commander's words dissolved into unintelligible rises and falls of moan- trussed sighs. "Do...do you really want this...want me like this?" he rustled against the soft shell of her peaked ear which was trembling against his mouth.
She went dead still. He did too. Somehow, he sensed how her emotions and logic were squaring off for the final showdown. He relaxed his grip on her small rigid body; a body he yearned to worship with all the devotion he felt welling up inside himself.
"Relax, darlin', I'm easy," he coaxed. "You're makin' it too much like work." His surprise grew when she complied with his words instantly. She took the initiative. She pressed in on him, easing him back in her attempt to lay him down. His heart felt as though it would burst. He relished having his bold Vulcan abandonly ply his neck and face with heated kisses that dug to his soul.
She was so unrestrained, and he couldn't get enough of her. She had him ablaze. Her left hand slid farther south, gliding its way down the length of the avid receptor that she was making of his body. Ferally, he chuckled into her mouth. Either she did not notice, or more aptly, didn't care. The chuckles became pants.
It was a jolt to his thought process that T'Pol told the truth when it suited circumstances. He recalled her staunch words about Vulcans not being explorers. Oh yeah? What did she call this?
As her hand greedily wound around his swollen genital organ tenting the material sheathing his crotch, Trip struggled to say, "Wo-wouldn't it be better with 'em off?" T'Pol's keen grunt sounded affirmative, if not a little unnerving. The hand that had claimed his erection shot up to his collar and tugged at the interfering zipper. He tore his mouth away from hers again. "Uh...hon?" He was losing it, and fast too.
"Hurrrr," rumbled deep within her throat. Hungrily, she captured his mouth more aggressively than her last assault.
"Whoa..." Gently, but firmly, Trip broke the electrifying contact. "Ba-babe?" This had to stop, and it looked as though he was going to have to be the one stopping it. He eased up onto his elbows, his face a study in his being caught between a rock and a hard place. The insipid pun guided his thoughts a moment longer than he wanted it to. T'Pol extracted the other hand which had been free-roaming in his hair. "I...I can't. I'm sorry...I can't go through with it." He was breathing heavily.
The Sub-Commander wore a mask of stark 'I do not understand' on her face.
Tucker chose his words painstakingly. He saw how disoriented and mystified T'Pol looked and he touched her burning cheek. His lips crinkled. With a sigh he began, "Tell me somethin', T'Pol... Be honest, now..."
"Yes, Comman--" Abruptly breaking off, she amended, "Mr. Tucker. When have you ever known me to be otherwise?"
Trip's eyes mellowed even more as times up for grabs flooded all aspects of his memory. "I asked this before, but I'm askin' again. Is bein' this intimate from the get-go what you really want?"
"It is what you want." Maybe if she had accompanied him to Risa, he would have made it back to the ship fully clothed, and a more relaxed officer.
"That's not what I'm askin', T'Pol." The pads of his index and forefingers trailed across her left cheek, going the other way this time. "What are you feelin'? What's goin' on insidet? I want to know. Fact is, I need to."
"Why?"
"Because it's important to me," he lightly jabbed.
This was unexpected, she thought. "Why?" she reiterated, this time with her eyebrow reaching a new height.
"Because you're not some damn good-time to me, T'Pol, that's why. I mean I like bein' with ya, and all, but..." His mind raced ahead of his tongue to flesh that vagary out. She looked worlds beyond confused. "If we do this, I don't want it bein' a meaningless wham-bam lay. No, ma'am." He reached for her hand which was still resting dangerously close to his honey spot. "You're not about easing sexual tension--not that I really have any that slows me down none." His fingers meshed with hers once she surrendered her clutchable hand. "I want somethin' real for once. Somethin' that means lots more than me fu--uh..." He winced, shaking his head. "Screwin' your brains out."
"Screwing?" T'Pol echoed, uncomprehending what context the use of the word was intended for, although he thought he saw a twinge of identification in her stoic expression. The softness in her eyes gave him the incentive to ford on with her blossoming feelings for him in tow.
"In this setting, it means makin' love. It's a vulgar way of sayin' it." Flustered, he shook his head again. "See, what it comes down to is this: I just plain want more, darlin'. I really don't know you all that well, but here we are goin' at it. Hell--I'm sick of goin' down that road with you." Sounding heartsick, he said, "It'd be great if we got to know each other first before makin' love. I'd sure like us to. I'd like us to get to know just about everything there is about each other. Like...well, like...Like what's your favorite color..."
"I do not have one in particular," she accused.
"Okay, so ya don't have a favorite color. So see, that's one more thing I didn't know about you before this," he announced, smiling in what looked to be triumph.
"What is the relevance corelating having a favorite color to mating?"
"It all corelates, T'Pol." He winked. "Have I ever told you I love it when you talk clinical to me?" he teased.
Her looking dazed was sudden. "No."
"'Cause I do. Now see...that's somethin' you know about me." Putting a finer degree of seriousness in his tone, he continued, "I want to know the woman you really are, T'Pol, before takin' it to intimacy. Vice versa." Grimacing, he divulged, "Believe me. I've taken it to the bedroom first and fast, each and every. Look where it's got me..."
"Where?" the Sub-Commander intoned, arrested by his regret-filled look.
"Nowhere, that's where. I've learned the hard way. Think I'm finally gettin' it. If I want a relationship, I have to start it off right instead of ass- backwards like I always have. Not testin' the sexual waters first." He bumped his thigh against hers and provoked, "Course...I already know you'd be great in the sack--" His imagination that was the hotbed for all of his pointy-eared fantasies.
"I am well skilled in diverse techniques of erotic pleasure," she told him. The voice he listened for whenever he thought there was a good chance he'd see her, was as deadpan as ever.
"I bet you are," he said slyly, briefly reliving the experience of having her hand cinch his throbbing hard-on. "I can wait findin' out how skilled though. My alleged sexual frustration notwithstandin'." He cocked his head over to the left, smiling with boyish puck at full force. "What I've been sayin'. Make any sense at all to ya? Or, am I assumin' too much by thinkin' you'd want a relationship of any description with this 'irrational,' although you've never seen me at full tilt irrational, just for the record, Southern man."
"A relationship..." Her use of the word made it sound foreign, but desirable all the same.
"Uh huh--yes. I think we could work. We've been over the roughest speed bumps at the beginning. I think we could have somethin'. Somethin' special. Maybe even spiritual like." He pouted, wishing he was better at expressing himself. "Wish I could put it better. Any of it grab ya?"
His hodgepodge use of imprecise language was rather endearing she had concluded about two ship-standard months ago.
"And sometimes...if you're not careful," he mercilessly cajoled, "relationships lead to cases of full-blown love. Love bein' one of the strongest emotions there is." He asked point-blank, "Think you'd risk lovin' me, T'Pol?"
Right then and there, she couldn't say. Reciprocating the touch to his face by gently fingering his lips with her short-nailed tips was all she could manage for now.
"Close enough to an answer," Trip accepted. "Ah, and I uh, apologize for comin' on so strong from the jump a while back." He gave her shapely knee a small pinch and enjoyed seeing her quirk her eyebrow at him again. "Hormones kicked into overdrive. I'm glad you went to Hoshi. While you were gone, it gave me a chance to think. I thought hard and long about you and me."
Thoughtfully then, she asked, "You seek to ascertain the scope of compatability before mating?" He had changed in many ways from the brash, uncooperative man who had smirked through his formal introduction to her.
"In so many words. Let's give it a try on your say so. You willin'?" He cupped her chin and after sealing a lingering kiss upon her lips asked, "Was that an affirmative?"
Sounding a little breathless, she parried, "How long will we wait?"
He took her right hand in both of his. "When it feels right, we'll both know."
"Agreed, Mr. Tucker."
"So, how's this sound? After we get through reviewin' the warp capability articulation specs, have dinner with me. The two of us. Seein' how once we reach Triishtar, the Cap'n is goin' to have other plans down on the surface that don't include us this time. Maybe take in the old movie that'll be playin' afterwards, huh?"
"Dinner and a movie," she said, looking wide-eyed, and he kissed her hand.
"Or whatever. Whatever you want to do."
She considered his proposal with a look of candor. "You recommend that I join you for..." She witnessed the beginnings of his smirk, which she couldn't deny, she wanted to imitate. "The traditional form of human male, female pre-mating interaction?"
"Just say date, T'Pol. It's easier." He nodded, drinking her smug look in, feeling a little himself. "You up for it?"
"I..." She turned into him and rested her chin upon his shoulder and intensely studied the intriguing shape of his tempting ear. Whispering huskily into it, sending chill shivers coursing up and down his spine, she succinctly replied, "Am."
As soon as he got back to his cabin, he'd jump into a cold shower; clothes and all. Lord, was she sexy. Seductive thoughts of T'Pol joining him for one in the near future were expunged from his overactive mind. Naturally, when that monumental day came, the water temperature wouldn't be fit for polar bears. His hormones weren't going to spoil this for him. "Now you're talkin'." He shifted away from her a little before nature got its second wind and resumed its course, goading him to take her over and over again. "Think I'd better go now."
T'Pol had other ideas about his leaving this very moment. "Stay..."
Standing, he bit his upper lip, letting it flow slowly from the entrapment of teeth that had snagged it. "Don't think that's such a wise idea, ownin' to the fact that you've had your hands all over me. And I can still feel 'em." Sounding not quite as brusque, he said, "Give it time, sugar. Give us time. It'll be sweeter when we're both on the same page. Not sayin' that you're at the end of the book, and I'm somewhere in the middle." He smiled at his weak analogy.
"Join me in meditation. It will prove relaxing." She rose from the bunk and went to get a brand new candle. Trip watched her graceful movements throughout, raptly cognizant of her every move.
"Can I get a rain check?"
She looked up from the table she was placing the candle in its holder on. "You do not wish to join me?" The disappointment in her voice curtailed his forward momentum for the door.
"Like I said...think I'd better git."
"It *will* be beneficial."
Shifting from foot to foot, he answered, �Another night, sugar. I promise. Just not tonight." His eyes never moved from her face. "You touch me again like ya did, and my hopes for us get shot to hell. And I'll be the one hatin' myself in the mornin'."
"Please..." She did not know what else to say that would keep him there. Keeping him with her for a while longer was what she wanted most. She wanted it more even than the Vulcan High Command granting this small band of travelers greater leeway in their bid for unlimited exploration.
Her plaintive request was all it took to prevent him from going through the door. "Help me relax, huh? Aw what the hell. We're adults. Okay, yeah, sure. I could use some of that." Stepping away from the door, he questioned, "Where do you want me?" She looked at him sharply, feeling her pulse start to pick up again. His grin did a slow burn over his face. "For strictly meditative purposes."
She had already settled herself upon the large futon. There appeared to be just the one. Trip looked around for what he was supposed to sit on. "Got an extra?" he asked, sounding expectant.
"No. The other one I had went to Porthos." She shifted off the center of the futon, and tentatively suggested, "We could share this." She stared directly at the focal candle whose lambency made the shapes and shadows of the room subtly dance.
"O-kay," he said, sounding equally tentative. "Sit here," she ordered, indicating the none too ample room beside herself.
Chock full of reservations, but committed to humoring her, Trip complied. "Shift over some. Just this much more." His thumb and forefinger scaled the measurement. "Half my butt's hangin' over the edge." She rearranged her body, but it didn't help. "You call this gettin' comfy?"
[She's so beautiful...long and lean the way she is, but if I can get a little more pecan pie into her, these sharp curves might plump some], he thought randily to himself. He liked his women with a drop more meat on them. "There's gotta be a better way so we're both comfortable..."
"Perhaps this will facilitate better comfort." Fluidly, she lifted up from the cross-legged sitting position. Her look implied that he should claim the futon for himself.
"Uh-ah--nah. I'm the gentleman here, and real gentlemen don't let a lady park it on the floor when they ought to be offerin' their seat to said lady." He started clearing off of the futon, but before he got the chance to vacate, T'Pol made herself at home in his lap.
"Good move, darlin'. You expect me to relax with you wrigglin' in my hot zone?" he said with a woebegone inflection.
"Concentrate on the flame, Commander," she instructed, zeroing in on the open heat source.
Close to the left side of her neck after he had his chin propped atop her shoulder he murmured, "It's Tucker, or I'm outta here."
"Tucker," she conceded promptly, sounding distant. A frission of gentle laughter erupted from Trip. "You must focus."
"Sorry. I will."
"The flame is your center. It fills you with warmth. It glows deep within you," she guided, as she herself succumbed to her internal suggestions. Her breathing was even and rhythmic. She was attuned to his which skimmed the exposed skin of her neck.
"Can I close my eyes?"
"Only when the flame causes you to."
He pulled in a lungful of air, felt his eyes grow heavy, and he controlled the air he released. He nodded, and caressing lips nuzzled her shoulder. After some time had passed, he closed his eyes. "Baby, this is nice," he purred.
She smiled a phantom of a smile. "Do not speak." Lightly, she applied pressure to the pressure points of his wrists.
"Okay."
"Breathe."
"I am."
"Slower." His nod against her heightened her vibrating senses. "Deeper." Her thoughts, her perceptions and wonderously of all, her emotions quieted to jell. On the downhill side of emersion, her barely-there smile vanished. Within the eternal circle of calm, all was tranquil; symmetry unbroken.
"T'Pol..."
Canting her head back against his forehead, she responded in a voice full of introspection and nuturing, "Yes, Tucker."
This was the best he'd felt all day, in fact, in many days. Maybe the best he felt for the entire month. It was as though he was floating outside the ship minus an environ suit. Yet, still and all, he was drowning in fresh, sweet air, uproariously weightless. It was all So good...so incredibly wonderful; like T'Pol. Meditating, she called it. Well, this wouldn't be his last time.
His arms had encirled her thimble waist. He made shameless, appreciative use of them as he spooned into her ear, "Thanks..."
Her bare arms overlapped his. She warmed in his snug embrace within the illuminated circle they shared. "You are welcome...Tucker."
End
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