Interface

TITLE: Interface - Part 3
AUTHOR: Sue
E-MAIL: sulangy@yahoo.com
SUMMARY: Ready or not, T'Pol and Trip break
ground.
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: Romance/T'Pol/Trip
SPOILERs: Desert Crossing, Carbon Creek, Two Days,
Two Nights...slight for A Night In Sick
Bay
ARCHIVE: Yep, that's fine.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, Paramount and its
entities do. I'm making no profit
whatsoever.

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
mefullfull 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, a uh, 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
omewhere 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."

had 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?"


, 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