Equilateral

T’Pol looked up at the glass panels of the ceiling, which served to bring natural light into the trading outpost. It was an imposing, cavernous building of simple design, with stores and eateries along the sides of each of its two floors and smaller stalls along the center. The space was immaculate, despite being crowded with many species, and all the patrons appeared well-dressed.

Humanoid security officers patrolled on foot and on hoverboards. Most of the trading outposts Enterprise had thus far encountered were primitive at best, but this establishment rivaled anything T’Pol had ever encountered in her travels. In fact, Enterprise had had to apply for permission to even enter the planet’s orbit due to the selectivity of the merchants.

The Captain had been so impressed, he had arranged for each member of the crew to have some time at the outpost and had obtained currency for their use. T’Pol had initially balked at the expense, given that the outpost dealt primarily in luxuries rather than necessities.

“It’ll be good for morale,” the Captain had replied, “And I expect you to get something nice for yourself. Something not at all practical or logical.”

The Captain had been wise in his decision. The crew members she had observed at the outpost had all appeared enthusiastic as they moved from store to store. The shopping provided welcome entertainment.

T’Pol fingered the credit stick in her pocket. She herself had always enjoyed shopping for aesthetically pleasing items, and some of her favorite clothes were showing their wear. She decided to use her credits to purchase new clothes.

She entered one of the shops, which dealt in material for clothing. Adjacent to that establishment was a another shop, where seamstresses would tailor the fabric into whatever styles the patron wished. Enterprise had already transferred patterns from Earth and Vulcan to the facility.

T’Pol searched the store, eventually choosing several fabrics in various purples, blues and a deep green. She also chose a bronze material, especially for undergarments.

She had picked out several Vulcan styles for the material when the seamstress suggested a human pattern she’d seen.

“I think this purple with the red embroidery would look very good made into this style,” said the tiny, green-skinned woman, “I think it’s a lovely design, and I’m going to offer it to clients who are not from your ship.”

T’Pol looked at the dress, which was definitely human in its design. It was a halter sundress with a fluttery skirt that would hit just below her knees. T’Pol owned several human style-garments but nothing like this. Moreover, she had never appeared publicly with bare legs - something that simply wasn’t done on Vulcan. Plenty of human women, including Ensign Sato, regularly wore even shorter skirts, but T’Pol had never even thought of doing so.

She paused.

Perhaps, she thought, my mates would appreciate seeing me in such a dress.

She nodded.

“Please do make that dress for me,” she said, and the woman added it to her order.

T’Pol still wore her catsuits while on duty, but she resolved to wear the human-style dress the next time Trip and Jonathan went with her to movie night. The next one fell on an obscure human celebration called Bastille Day and the film they were showing was apparently renowned for the clothing. It would be appropriate.

****

Several nights later T’Pol sat in the darkened mess hall watching a film called Marie Antoinette, which portrayed the hedonistic life of a doomed Earth queen. The film was part of a series of events that celebrated Bastille Day, including a rather elaborate meal that Chef had prepared and a noon-day concert of French music.

When she had first heard the film’s premise, she had expected to be indifferent to the story of an illogical, selfish woman. But to her surprise, she found the girl’s story compelling. When the young princess’s arranged husband proved an inadequate mate and the ritual of the court intellectually empty, the kind but unintelligent girl lapsed into emotion, self-indulgence and fantasy. By the time she grew up and embraced logic and austerity, it was too late. It was indeed a tragic tale with a strong moral.

Additionally, the girl had been torn between her Swedish lover and her husband, for whom she eventually developed a strong affection. Seeing the girl’s heartbreak play out onscreen, T’Pol realized that she owed her mates a debt of gratitude for agreeing to share her.

T’Pol looked down at her purple dress, grateful that humans no longer attired themselves as elaborately as they did during the film’s period. The corsets, underskirts and brightly colored dresses seemed design to make it impossible for the women to do anything productive. The layers of clothing, along with the rigid rules of behavior, had clearly been designed to suppress human passions as well as display wealth and status, obviously failing at the former. Self-control did not come from exterior, but rather internal control.

T’Pol sighed, glancing to her right where Trip sat , and to her left at Jonathan. She held a bowl of popcorn on her lap. Each time one of her lovers reached into the bowl, he glanced appreciatively either at her cleavage or at her legs. She had hoped they would like seeing her in human style clothing, but she had been surprised that they appeared more interested in the dress than the movie.

Jonathan had mumbled something about the film being a “chick flick” while Trip had complained that it was going to be too depressing, given the grisly fate of the heroine. Neither paid much attention to the story.

T’Pol remained interested in the film, but she gradually became aware that other members of the crew had not failed to notice the ship’s three senior officers and the close proximity in which they all sat. Most of the crew knew that Trip was her mate, and members of her science team had even begun to openly refer to Trip as such.

She did not correct them, as their assumption was true. However, given the unusual nature of their triad, she had not offered more information. A few astute crew members, such as Ensign Sato and Dr. Phlox, had made veiled references to her relationship with the Captain, however. Sato had once said something about it being nice that Trip and the Captain had become close again.

“Close enough to share. . .everything,” Sato had remarked with a smirk.

Sato was watching the film with her chosen mate, the young MACO called Hawkins. Behind them sat a pair that had caught many by surprise, that of Lt. Reed and Major Hayes. She knew such relationships commonly formed in the military, but she had been surprised when the two men had decided to share quarters.

It was one logical way to solve the ship’s unbalanced male-to-female ratio. She, Trip and Jonathan had found another.

Apparently, Lt. Reed also suspected the truth about the ship’s senior officers. When Trip had pleasantly teased Reed about his cohabitation with Hayes, Reed’s reply was telling.

“You know, a few of the other Brits on the ship have started referring to T’Pol and you as The Hamiltons and the Captain as Lord Nelson,” he had said.

Trip hadn’t understood the reference, but he looked it up and discovered that the British Admiral had, during a time of great sexual repression, openly lived in a triad with a Lord and Lady Hamilton. Clearly, such relationships were unusual on Earth but occurred periodically. Trip had said that in hindsight Malcolm appeared more amused than anything - except perhaps a bit jealous.

As the credits of the film began, Trip exhaled.

“Thank god they didn’t show her execution,” he said, “That would have been a real downer.”

“I believe the film assumes that the audience to be aware of Antoine’s fate,” said T’Pol.

“I was just upset when they took her dog from her,” replied Jonathan, “After that, I kind of zoned out until the mob showed up.”

Jonathan paused, he had nearly placed a hand on her back but resisted the impulse. The room had nearly emptied out, but he still never touched her in front of anyone else. He did however lean forward.

“Your dress was distracting me. In a most agreeable way,” he said in a low voice.

Trip, who never showed as much restraint as Jonathan, took her hand and looked up and down the length of her body.

“You look amazing, darlin’”

She nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, “Now, I would like to retire to Jonathan's quarters. . .if you both would like to join me.”

The two men grinned. She knew their answer already.

****


As soon as the door shut behind them, T'Pol expected one of them men to pounce on her. That was the habit, after all. But instead, she felt Trip's cool hand take hers and lead her away from the door.

It was as though neither of them had ever seen her legs before, she thought.

Trip leaned in for a kiss, his fingers trailing down her thigh until they caught the edge of her dress. Slowly, they slid under the fabric, retracing their path up bare skin.

"Jonathan," whispered Trip in between kisses, "Don't you think she looks beautiful in her new dress?"

“I think I said that. . .a few times,” said Jonathan, who made no move to join their embrace.

Instead, Jonathan leaned back against his desk and watched them, a faint smile at his lips.

Trip’s fingers found her backside, brushing across the flimsy material of her underwear and slipping just under the hem. He went no further, instead moving his hands to her front to gently massage her clitoris through the silk with both his thumbs. She gasped and closed her eyes.

T’Pol moved beneath his fingers, pressing her body closer to him. But he withdrew, gently pushing her back and leading her over to where Jonathan stood.

He wants Jonathan to go first, thought T’Pol.

Trip pressed her forward against the desk, bending her over and lifting her skirt.

Shivering, T'Pol kept eyes on the desk as Trip's hand feathered light caresses over the bare curve of her backside. She unconsciously parted her legs further, beckoning him toward the feverish ache between them. She gasped, stiffened, when he instead rewarded her with a slap on her posterior.

Her buttocks tingled with the sting, and her desire became sharper. She closed her eyes, waiting for Trip to touch her again, but he didn’t. She heard movement and shuffling behind her...the sound of a zipper coming down, though who's she did not know. T'Pol resisted the urge to look; many of Trip's games involved a degree of sensory deprivation, and she was beginning to understand the appeal.

She gasped sharply as she recognized the hand that moved up her thigh and between her legs.

Jonathan.

Jonathan's strong fingers moved beneath the now wet silk of her underwear and penetrated her body. She inhaled deeply and slowly, biting her lip. Jonathan’s fingers had become so skilled at pleasuring her that she had to grip the desk harder to keep from simply collapsing.

“Do you like that?” he whispered.

Her heart beat faster. It was an unnecessary question. Surely, Jonathan could tell she was aroused from her physical reaction. Yet, she sensed Jonathan desired a verbal response.

Such a response would arouse him.

Grateful that their position made it unnecessary for her to look at him, she whispered her response.

“Yes”

Jonathan responded to her affirmation with soft laughter and a kiss on her neck. All the while, his fingers brought her near to a climax. She pushed back against him. But Jonathan withdrew his fingers, denying her satisfaction. T'Pol whimpered in frustration.

"Missing something?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

She inhaled. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely, vowing that she would reciprocate this teasing when the opportunity presented itself.

“Tell me,” he said, “Tell me what you miss.”

She shivered, unsure of how to formulate an answer. She swallowed. “I miss your fingers in my body.”

He laughed again, and she felt his arousal rubbing between her legs. “But I’ve got something even better than that,” he replied.

She groaned softly at the feel of him. She needed him inside her, and he knew it. But he intended to make her ask for it.

Jonathan moved his hands to the insides of her thighs, caressing her while moving her legs apart. He continued to rub against her, and she was dizzy.

"Now tell me what you want," he whispered. “You want to get fucked? Is that what you want?"

She gasped at the profanity, but she responded. “Yes”

“Tell me. . .exactly.”

She hesitated, drawing slow breaths in and out. She didn’t even know how to tell him what she wanted. In response to her silence, she felt a light smack on her posterior.

“Tell me,” he said again.

His blow wasn’t as forceful as Trip’s, but it did its work.

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I want you to fuck me,” she said clearly.

Jonathan didn't respond with words. Hooking his fingers into her panties to pull them aside, he plowed into her. She involuntarily let out a sigh of relief mixed with pleasure as he filled her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, and she heard him moan as he pulled her closer.

Her profane words had provoked a forceful response, but suddenly Jonathan stilled his movements. He was enjoying the feel of her, just as she was enjoying the feel of him.

T'Pol opened her eyes, intending to glance up at Jonathan. But her eyes instead found Trip, lying on his side and watching her from Jonathan's bed. Though he was still dressed, she could tell he was enjoying what he was seeing.

Grinning, Trip caught her eye, and he winked at her.

In response, T’Pol moaned and clenched her body around Jonathan. Jonathan responded by thrusting into her with  such a force, her grip on the desk nearly faltered. Jonathan usually found more gentle means to satisfy her needs, but his new forcefulness was quite pleasing. She soon lost all rational thought as she felt Jonathan's fingers on her clitoris. She cried out, knowing that her climax would come swiftly.

“Weht,” she cried, and he pressed harder, moving his fingers faster.

Soon her entire body rocked with pleasure, and she collapsed against the desk.

She was barely conscious, but she felt Jonathan withdraw. She felt empty as he took her into his arms and carried her toward the bed. He gently placed her down. She opened her eyes and looked up at Jonathan. He was smiling down at her and he brushed the stray hairs out of her face. Jonathan glanced over at Trip and grinned at the the younger man.

“Your turn,” said Jonathan, who paused, “I want to see you fuck her. Hard.”

Sleepily, she turned to Trip, who had already stripped off his shirt and was wiggling out of his trousers.

Naked, Trip crawled on top of her and covered her mouth with his in a deep, hard kiss.
As he kissed her, Trip reached up and unfastened the top of her dress. Soon, the front had fallen away revealing her breasts to his gaze. He bent down, kissing and licking each one in turn.

Soon, his hands moved lower, slipping under her dress and gripping the sides of her underwear. His eyes met hers as he slowly pulled them down. He moved lower to better remove them but never broke eye contact. He looked at her with such raw hunger that she instinctively pulled up her skirt and opened her legs.

Trip needed no further invitation, he crawled on top of her and pushed himself inside her. She let out an involuntary sigh at the feeling and threw her arms around his naked back.

He started to move, slowly and deeply at first. But his movements soon became faster. He grabbed her hips and tilted her body so his movements rubbed her clitoris in just the right spot, and she let out a short scream.

"That's right, baby," he panted. "Let me hear it."

T'Pol screamed louder, and Trip pressed his hands into her hips harder as he continued his movements. The pleasure was so great—first from Jonathan and now from Trip—she'd lost control of herself. She had no choice but to give herself over to them. She trembled at the thought of how much she had come to trust them, how much of herself she was willing to let them see.

She let herself be swept away, going limp in Trip's arms. . .confident he would give her what she so desperately needed. She sensed the pressure building in her body.

"That's it," he whispered, "Give in to it."

His words triggered her release, and she screamed again, louder and harder than before. She thought she would lose consciousness, but instead she felt her body and mind awaken to the moment.

Every cell in her body tingled, and it was though time had stopped. But time didn’t stop. Trip continued his movements, and she hoped that soon he would join her in pleasure. Her body had become aroused again, and she sensed that he was close. But suddenly he stopped and pulled out.

She opened her eyes, frustrated by the sudden emptiness.

He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Jonathan. Her other lover had stripped off his clothes and was climbing on top of her. T’Pol inhaled. She opened her mind to them, and she understood that Trip wanted to watch Jonathan enter her again.

Jonathan's cool hands grasped her from behind the knees, pulling her wide and deepening the angle. She relaxed in his grasp and closed her eyes in anticipation.

Jonathan penetrated her swiftly and fully. She moaned deeply as he began to move in and out of her body. She wrapped her legs around him, knowing it wouldn't be long before he found release.

She met each of his motions with a moan, clutching at his neck and back. She wanted so much for him to find the pleasure he had earlier given her. Jonathan's motions became erratic.  She watched as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to hold on just a little longer. She had a different agenda, and she began squeezing her muscles around him, prompting a groan.

He moved even faster, until finally shuddering and spilling inside her. He sighed deeply and went limp in her arms. The bond flowed between them, and she felt his pleasure in her mind.

T'Pol's skin tingled from the cool air after Jonathan rolled away from her.  She turned her gaze toward Trip, and his eyes still burned with arousal. She took a deep breath as he moved toward her. He positioned himself on top of her, placing a kiss on her cheek as he did so.

He pushed himself inside her and started moving. As she had done with Jonathan, she wrapped her legs around his body to urge him forward. Her arms went around his back as he pounded into her, grunting softly in her ear. It wasn't long before Trip found his release, also sharing his pleasure with her—and Jonathan—through the bond.

As Trip slid off her, Jonathan snuggled up against her and she held them both against her body.

Eventually, Jonathan spoke. “We didn’t ruin your dress did we?”

The dress was bunched around her middle, as neither of her lovers had bothered to remove it completely.

“I believe it is undamaged. . .just wrinkled,” she replied.

Jonathan careful began to slide the dress off her body, around her hips and down her legs. He gently shook it before tossing it on the floor.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ll have to wear it again sometime. Once we’ve recovered.”

T'Pol's eyebrow raised slightly, and she looked over at Trip, who was only just returning to full consciousness.

"It's a really nice dress," he mumbled, eyes closed.