Equilateral

Chapter Five

Seeing T'Pol had accomplished nothing. Trip had gone to her, intending to find out where he stood and what Jon meant to her.

Instead, he'd done everything he could to make her feel like a dirty whore. All in the name of proving...what? That T'Pol had wanted him more than Jon? That one man should be enough for her, as long as he was that man?

That he wanted T'Pol, and not Jon?

It was all surreal. Trip wasn't sure if he owed her an apology, or if he should have given it to her harder. He didn't know what confused him more: T'Pol's climbing arousal at his rough treatment, or his own response to the memory of Jon's touch. And then there was the fact that he had allowed another man fuck the hell out of the woman he loved, and that he had enjoyed watching. How could she forgive him for that?

Upon showering and changing into fresh civvies, Trip resolved to approach things from a different angle. He'd go talk to Jon about T'Pol. He should've done that in the first place. Simple. Direct. No head games.

Given the hour, Trip knew Jon was likely to be in his quarters and still awake. He worked to steady his hand, as he pressed the door chime and waited to be admitted, just like he had done countless times before.

Inside, he found Jon sitting at his desk, pouring over reports. The captain looked up, surprised. Not nervous. Just surprised.

“Have a seat, Trip. What can I do for you?”

Trip's nerves kept him on his feet. “I don't quite...I mean, I...” He collected himself. “What the hell did we do down there?”

Jon shook his head. “I don't know.”

“It was kinda weird. . .”

“It was different. . .”

Trip paused. This was ridiculous. They both were sophisticated enough to know that sometimes shit happened under the right circumstances. Sharing T’Pol had been amazing, and all that sexual energy had just spilled over them. It hadn’t been terrible, what had happened between the three of them. It was just...odd.

“It wasn’t bad, though,” Trip added. “It was good.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“But weird.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

“She’s amazing, though.”

“Yeah, incredible.”

Trip thought for a moment, unsure of what to say next—unsure if he should even say anything at all. Jon was his best friend as well as his commanding officer. They were cut off from everyone and everything they knew. None of them could afford to strain any of their relationships with unnecessary awkwardness or hard feelings.

“We're good, though, right?”

“We're good, Trip.”

Trip nodded, looking briefly relieved before struggling to find the words to address his next concern. “T'Pol. . .she's. . .something special.”

Jon smiled. “I know.”

Trip fidgeted with his ear. “Yeah, about that...uh, I don't know what's between the two of you, and it's none of my business, so. . .look, I'll just get out of the way.”

Jon's brow furrowed. “I know I'm probably the last person to find out, but it looked pretty evident to me that the two of you have something going on. I'm the one who should step back.”

Trip wanted to believe Jon was right, but he just couldn't deny the chemistry he'd seen between them in the corridor the day before. Besides, after the way he'd just treated her, there was no possible way she'd even want him any more. “No. It's obvious she's into you. I was just a substitute for you.”

“You love her,” Jon countered.

“So do you,” Trip said a little too quickly. It hurt to hear it come out of his own mouth, but the truth was he did love T'Pol, and he wanted her to be happy. After the way he'd just behaved, Trip had to face the fact that Jon was probably the better man for her.

Jon covered his eyes, pressing into his temples with splayed fingers. “Actually, I think it's obvious she's—”

He was interrupted by the door chime.

“Come in,” he called.

Trip blanched when he saw the new visitor.

T'Pol walked in, PADD in hand, dressed and much more composed than when he'd left her. “I have the results from the analysis of the fruit,” she announced without preamble.

“I should go. . .” Trip mumbled.

Archer stood, motioning for Trip to stay. “I think you're going to want to hear this, Trip.” He motioned for T'Pol to continue.

T'Pol passed the PADD to Archer as she spoke. “What the people of Gilesia regard as an aphrodisiac contains a chemical compound similar to ethanol alcohol in that it reduces inhibitions. It also amplifies latent telepathic abilities and enhances tactile sensation. Higher cognitive functioning and motor control are unaffected.”

“What are you saying, exactly?” Trip asked, a little afraid he already knew the answer.

“She's saying the fruit didn't make us do it,” Jon said, passing the PADD back to T'Pol. “I get the telepathic part for you, but that doesn't make sense for Trip and I.”

“I can only surmise that, because of our years of close association, I was able to serve as a conduit between the two of you.”

Trip considered the ramifications of what T'Pol and Jon had just said. “So. . .?”

“Our inhibitions were lowered. We acted on impulses we'd ordinarily suppress.” She looked from Trip to Jon before returning her gaze to the floor.

Trip's eyes narrowed. She was referring to what went on between Jon and him. “Wait a minute. You're saying. . . ”

“It's illogical to deny that which you both know is true,” she answered quietly.

Trip exchanged a look with Jon. There was confirmation in his eyes: the love of friendship and brotherhood had crossed the line into something else entirely, despite each man's insistence on treating it to the contrary.

Great, thought Trip, Now she’s going to offer to step aside so Jon and I can be together. That just figures.

Trip's eyes turned to T'Pol. What little relief he'd gained from getting all of this out into the open was overshadowed by the sick feeling that came with thinking about how he'd taken his insecurities out on her. He owed her one hell of an apology, and he was certain he'd never be able to make it up to her, even if he had a thousand years in the Expanse to try. Rather than find the distant coldness he'd expected in her gaze, he saw instead acceptance and forgiveness. They simply stared at each other for a moment, words inadequate to convey what they needed to communicate.

Maybe she does love me, he thought, a glimmer of hope returning.

“So what do we do?” Trip asked finally.

“Many cultures engage in polyamory,” T'Pol said, “as we've recently been reminded. Also, I understand a minority of humans practice it as well...some for religious purposes, some for practicality, and some for...pleasure. Even Vulcans share their mates on rare occasion. It is considered a great gift for a man to share his partner with another man, who is experiencing the blood fever and has no mate.”

Trip looked at T’Pol curiously. Vucan wife swapping? That sounded a little illogical. Jon looked equally puzzled.

T’Pol took a deep breath. “What I am about to tell you is considered closed knowledge among my people. We do not speak of it to outsiders and very rarely among ourselves.”

Her eyes on the floor, she began to explain that Vulcans went through a mating cycle called pon farr, and that the male’s cycle usually triggered one in his mate. If the couple didn’t mate during the pon farr, they would die.

Jesus, he thought with a tinge of sympathy for her, no wonder she likes it rough. Pon Farr sounds downright scary.

She continued on with her explanation. A Vulcan without a mate, especially a male, could go through the cycle on his own and was in a very perilous position. So, sometimes a man with a mate would step up and offer to share.

“But due to the nature of our mating bonds,” she whispered, “A Vulcan female would not enjoy sexual relations without the presence of her mate. So, her mate would be present during the sharing.”

She raised her head and gazed up at Trip. Her lips were trembling.

Was this her way of saying that she didn't hate him for not minding that Jon had her—right in front of him?

“Listen,” Jon said, breaking the moment with a smirk. “I'm not ashamed of what happened last night—or this morning. No regrets. And God knows I needed it. But...you two should work things out. We shouldn't talk about this—or do it—any more.”

Trip sighed. T’Pol glanced over at Jon and back to him. Trip’s head told him to offer T’Pol to Jon again, to try and back off. But he couldn’t form the words. His eyes locked with T’Pol’s. He owed her an apology, and dammit he wanted to spend the rest of his life making her understand how much he loved her. Showing her that sex about was more than just primal need. It could be the ultimate expression of love. He needed to show her that.

He looked over at Jon, who wasn’t looking at either of them. Trip’s heart ached for his friend. He realized that he didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear causing Jon pain anymore than he could bear causing T’Pol pain.

Trip felt dizzy. The word “polyamorous” kept intruding into his thoughts, making it difficult to think clearly. Crazy as it was, T'Pol's suggestion was beginning to make sense.

If I don’t get out of here now, thought Trip, I don’t know what’s going to happen.

Suddenly, T’Pol was at his side. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth, hot and open and wet. It certainly wasn’t goodbye, he knew that. She pulled back and their eyes met. They both knew they weren’t going anywhere.

Trip's attention turned to Jon, who was busily looking anywhere but at him and T'Pol. He saw disappointment and resignation on his friend's face.

After exchanging a glance with him, T'Pol disengaged from him, moving to embrace Jon and overtake his mouth in a searing kiss. Trip watched as Jon melted into her, his hands roaming over her back and kneading her backside. As Trip watched them, he felt his dick get hard. He needed to touch her, though—touch them--so he moved closer.

Pushing her hair aside, he leaned down, blazing a trail of kisses up her neck until he reached her ear, teasing the lobe with his teeth. She shivered. Her ears were more sensitive than a human's, that he knew.

Jon released T'Pol, sliding his arms around Trip's waist, pulling him into her. Trip heard her gasp as he pressed his erection against her. Instinctively, she began to grind against him.

“Jon,” Trip said between bites of ear. “I think she needs to be naked.”

“You read my mind,” Jon answered with a laugh.

Trip moved his hands up and beneath her gray tank to tweak her nipples and massage her breasts, but Jon was having trouble getting the top part of her catsuit off her arms. He eventually succeeded, though, and Trip was able to pull the gray tank above her head.

"How do you get dressed in the morning?" asked Jon playfully as he leaned over to kiss her exposed breasts.

Trip gently twisted T'Pol's head toward his and he kissed her. She had flushed green. "Are you blushing, baby?" he whispered. T'Pol didn't respond, but she kissed him again.

“I think this would be easier on the bed,” Jon said.

Trip smiled and nodded. Together, they led her to the bed. Trip turned her around and kissed her before pressing her down on her back. Each man then took a black boot and unzipped it. They pulled the boots off in turn.

T'Pol angled her hips upward as Jon hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, grabbing handfuls of catsuit with it. In one fluid motion, he had her free of the garment.

“No , really,” Trip said with a smirk, “how do you even put this thing on?”

“One limb at a time,” T'Pol deadpanned, eliciting a grin from both men. After taking in the sight of her, Trip exchanged a glance with Jon. They were the luckiest bastards in the universe, and they both knew it.

T'Pol sat up, her fingers deftly unbuckling Trip's belt before tugging down his zipper. Trip struggled with the buttons on his shirt, frustrated that rushed fingers weren't cooperating. T'Pol's hand squeezing him through his Starfleet blues wasn't helping any. Finally he gave up, pulled it up over his head, and left it in a crumpled heap beside T'Pol's catsuit.

Jon approached. He'd already removed his shirt, and judging the bulge in his thin pants, Trip figured Jon was just as turned on as he was. T'Pol's small hands gripped the hem of Jon's pants and pulled them off. She then turned back to Trip. Both her and Jon made quick work of his trousers and shoes. Then, his Starfleet blues were off, too. They all crawled up on the bed together.

T'Pol was facing Trip. He pulled her into a leisurely kiss, his tongue lazily exploring her mouth and his hands running all over her luscious curves, occasionally running into Jon's hands as he did so.

T'Pol's hands clutched a bit at his chest, almost painfully.

Trip had closed his eyes momentarily, but opened them when T'Pol moaned and shifted. Jon had entered her from behind.

“You like that, darlin'?” Trip murmured into her ear. “You like feelin' Jon inside of you?”

T'Pol nodded. Jon locked eyes with Trip and smiled as he started to thrust into her.

She gestured that she wanted him to move up the bed. He got the message and did as she asked. She leaned over and soon had his dick in her hot mouth. He grunted with pleasure and closed his eyes, hoping he could keep control. She seemed determined to undo that control, but eventually her concentration seemed to wane, and she let go.

He heard Jon grunting, and their bodies slapping together. T'Pol was moaning and writhing, and Trip held her steady so Jon could continue working her with his fingers. Her moans crescendoed into cries of ecstasy. She trembled violently before going limp, a choked scream escaping her lips.

He wiggled down the bed so he could rain kisses on her face and caress her ears with is rough fingers.

Jon had pulled out of her, still clearly aroused. He was positioning her body so that Trip could easily enter her. He was also peppering kisses all over T'Pol, on her neck and back and his hands feathered caresses along her glistening skin as he moved her to just the right angle. Jon smiled at Trip, and Trip took the invitation. He slid into T'Pol, whispering in her ear how much he needed her.

Trip pulled her toward him, and then he moved her onto her back so he could thrust more easily. Their earlier, desperate encounter still fresh in his mind, he was careful not to hurt her. He moved gently and slowly.

Jon made no attempt to participate. Trip was vaguely aware of him sitting back, just watching, touching himself occasionally. Jon seemed aware that he and T'Pol needed this somehow - or maybe he was just enjoying the view. It didn't matter. Though strange, Trip was learning to enjoy being watched.

He gazed at down at T'Pol. Her eyes were closed, but Trip leaned down

"Open your eyes, baby. I need to look at you," he whispered.

She did as he asked, her brown eyes locking with his. Her body was so hot and so tight. Did she know how good she felt? Did she understand?

T'Pol's fingers pushed into his hair, bringing him down to meet her in a deep, luxurious kiss. He felt her shift beneath him as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms slid along his back, drawing him into a tight embrace. The closer she pulled him, the closer he needed to be.

Trip angled himself so that his dick was rubbing her clit, hoping he could make her come that way. He moved very deliberately, and she responded by clutching him even tighter, and he knew he'd have bruises thanks to her Vulcan strength — even though she was trying to be gentle in response to him. He was going to ask her if his motions were good to her, but she started moaning and whimpering in Vulcan--so he didn't have to ask. He knew it was just a matter of time before she came again.

As she lost more and more control, Trip concentrated harder and moved with more gentle precision. He needed to make it up to her - for what happened before - and he was going to make sure she understood how sorry he was. He wasn't worried about his own release, only hers. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt her muscles spasm around him and she screamed and pulled him close, shaking in his arms.

Trip relaxed and watched her float on her cloud of euphoria. Her face was glistening with sweat and her lips were swollen from being kissed.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

Jon reached to brush an errant hair from T'Pol's cheek. “Yes, you are.”

Trip pulled out of her as she relaxed her grasp. He stretched out beside her as Jon settled to the other side, leaning in to kiss her. He was learning that there were benefits to watching as well.

After a moment, T'Pol turned her attention to Trip. She kept Jon's face close as her mouth met Trip's. It was clear what she wanted, and Trip was particularly inclined to please her.

With a smile, he turned his head. He felt T'Pol's body quiver as they met over her. Jon's kiss was hard, different from T'Pol's but weirdly comforting in its humanness. The taste of iron, as opposed to copper was familiar, despite Jon's gender. Trip was a little disappointed when Jon broke the kiss to bring his mouth down onto T'Pol's, effectively ravishing her.

T'Pol's arms went around Jon's neck and he appeared to engulf her with kisses. She was limp, and, with his arms around her, lifted her up into a seated position. Jon was on his knees in front of her, still kissing her mouth and his now free hands roamed over her breasts. Her eyes were closed.

After a few moments, Jon shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed. He moved to lift her on his lap, intending to enter her that way. Trip, who had been almost hypnotized by the sight of them, had no idea how the hell this was going to work, but he moved to assist Jon, carefully helping him lower her down onto him.

T'Pol exchanged a confused look with Trip as she gasped.

“Trust me,” Jon said with a soft laugh. “You're going to like this. Just cross your legs around my waist...that's it.”

Trip watched, mystified, as T'Pol complied. They clutched each other in a tight embrace, and Jon started gently rocking. T'Pol's head tipped back as she took a ragged breath. She and Jon seemed to enter an almost trance-like state as they continued to undulate in small back-and-forth motions. It amazed him that such a subtle movement could build what appeared to be such a steady, intense pressure as they both sighed and moaned softly. He was anxious to try it for himself—soon.

Trip extended tentative hands, feathering caresses along the glistening plane of her back and the curve of her hips, over Jon's hands where they pressed into her. She shivered in response, one more precious bit of her control slipping away. Inspired, he trailed cool kisses along her neck and ear. Whimpering, she released Jon with one hand, blindly searching until her fingers tangled with Trip's.

Their rocking had not changed in speed or intensity, but Trip sensed they were both close. Their breathing had taken on a strange, rhythmic pattern. Whatever Jon was doing to her, it clearly felt good--almost too good. She was nearly overwhelmed, and he gripped her hand to try and calm her.

There were no frantic, flailing movements. No guttural screams. The only sign of their release was their quiet tremors escalating into violent quakes as they struggled to breathe.

Trip felt dizzy. He was dangerously close to coming himself as he was overtaken by a wave of euphoria. Instinctively, he squeezed the end of his dick, trying desperately to prevent it. Never before had he been so turned on by merely watching something, especially something so delicate and understated.

But then, he reasoned foggily, until recently he hadn't really had occasion to watch the two people he cared about more than anything make love.

Suddenly focused, as though being returned to his own body, Trip helped to ease T'Pol's spent form to the mattress as Jon disentangled her legs.

“That was amazing,” said Trip. “What the hell was that?”

“I learned that from a shaman when I was in Tibet,” Jon murmured, caressing T'Pol's heaving body in an attempt to help slow her heart rate and breathing to normal levels. “I could show you sometime.”

Trip grinned, giving T'Pol a gentle squeeze as he kissed her affectionately on her forehead. “I'd like that.”

“Trip...” she said hoarsely. She reached shakily for his erection, drawing him near.

“I think you've had enough for one night,” Trip said gently, pulling her hand up to kiss it in appreciation.

Jon motioned for him to lie back. “Take care of her,” he whispered.

Trip settled back,his heart pounding in anticipation of what he thought was going to happen next. T'Pol appeared blissfully unaware and vulnerable as he gathered her into his arms, stroking the length of her body as he began whispering to her.

A thrill surged through him as he felt Jon's hand grasp him.

Oh god, thought Trip, as Jon started to stroke him. Trip continued to kiss and pet T'Pol's barely conscious form but waves of pleasure were overtaking him. But to his simultaneous frustration and pleasure, Jon seemed to know just when to stop or change the rhythm to keep Trip from going over the edge. Dammit, was Jon trying to drive him crazy?

T'Pol's eyes gradually opened.

"Tonk'peh," whispered T'Pol and she caressed his face.

He didn't know what that meant, but he didn't care. She looked, in her Vulcan way, so content and peaceful. Jon hit a really good spot, and Trip groaned. T'Pol looked down and watched Jon's hands for a moment. Then, she raised her eyebrow at him.

She began planting kisses down his body. Trip gasped in anticipation, knowing how hot and tingly her mouth felt on him - and how good it would feel in concert with what Jon was doing. Trip closed his eyes and let the sensations overtake him.

Soon, her mouth was around his dick, sucking and licking, while Jon's hands were on his balls. Now, for sure, he wasn't going to last long.

"T'Pol, darlin," he choked, "If you two don't stop I'm . . .I'm going to come."

Rather than stop, she and Jon seemed to work him faster and harder. It wasn't long before his balls tightened and he spilled into her mouth. His mind was cloudy, but he worried that he had done something that would repulse a Vulcan. She's a vegetarian . .

"T'Pol," he whispered, "You don't. . ."

He looked down, and he blushed as he realized she had already swallowed. Jon reached over and wiped a bit of excess off her lips and then kissed her on the cheek.

Trip leaned back and closed his eyes, awash in tranquility. T'Pol crawled up the bed to snuggle against him, and he put his arms around her, sighing.

Jon had followed and he too had his arms around her, and he placed his head on her shoulder. That was last thing Trip remembered before dozing off into a blissful sleep.


***

Trip awoke in the night, confused as to where he was. He knew he was on Enterprise, but he was in unfamiliar quarters in an unfamiliar bed. Yet, he felt a familiar, delicate arm around his waist, one that felt warm against his bare skin. It only took a few seconds for memory to return.

She had fallen asleep on her stomach, one arm around him and the other around Jon. Very carefully, he sat up against the headboard. She slept soundly, her head propped up on one of Jon’s pillows. She looked serene and content, so different from when he had last been alone with her, when he had deliberately hurt her.

He knew she had forgiven him, miraculously, for treating her so coarsely. But he still felt like he owed her. . .something. He watched for a few minutes, and she eventually stirred. Her eyes fluttered open and she yawned and cricked her neck. Her eyes met his.

He was silent, searching her face for any signs of stress or shame about . . .everything.
He saw none. She gently moved closer to him, making sure not to disturb their still sleeping lover. He gathered her into his arms.

“T’Pol,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry about before, in your cabin. The way I treated you. . .I had no right. I don’t blame you if you're still upset. . .”

Although he did need her forgiveness, he had no desire to push her away from him, mentally or physically. That notion had passed. As had the notion that she was his alone. Somehow, he was okay with that.

“You were angry,” she stated, “It was understandable. Our situation is confusing.”

He squeezed her a little and kissed the top of her head.

“That’s no excuse. A man should never, ever treat a lady the way I treated you,” he said.

She buried her face in his chest. He saw that she had a bit flushed green.

“A lady shouldn’t react the way I did. But I’m not a lady in the human sense. I’m a Vulcan.”

Her voice was calm as she stated this fact. She wasn’t trembling or anything. She seemed in control. More in control than she had been in a long time.

“That’s who you are, darlin’. I didn’t fall in love with a human. I fell in love with a Vulcan, and I’d be a royal ass if held your Vulcan nature against you.”

She sighed, and he gently turned her head toward him.

“In fact,” he said looking into her eyes, “I kind of like it. More than kinda. And it’s not like you can’t enjoy it soft and gentle-like, too. This evenin’ proved otherwise. Your response was amazing.”

She replied in a low voice. “Are you certain? I fear you and Jonathan. . .you will both someday need a human woman. One that can express her emotions. One who . . .”

Trip grinned at that. She actually thought that he could tire of her. Although he couldn’t speak for Jon, he knew he would never, ever tire of T’Pol or her Vulcan-ness.

“Honey,” he said, running a hand through her hair, “I’ll never tire of you. You may not realize this, but you express yourself better than most human women. The eyebrow. The way your eyes sparkle when you’ve made a joke. The way you put up with my jokes. I can’t imagine ever loving another woman as much as I love you.”

She inhaled a deep breath, and she looked over at Jon’s sleeping form. Trip instinctively knew the direction of her thoughts.

“You love him,” he stated simply.

“Don’t you?” she replied.

“He’s been my best friend for years. . .of course I love him. I just never imagined. . .”

She looked at him. Her face was so peaceful and calm and full of love, that Trip found it easy to read her thoughts. She loved him. She loved Jon. They all loved each other.

“I don’t believe any of us imagined this,” she said, “but that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Before he could answer, Trip was interrupted by sharp jolt that nearly sent the three of them toppling out of bed. “What the hell--?”

Jon bolted upright as Trip was already shoving covers down and crawling over their bodies. “What just happened?”

“We just suddenly dropped out of warp,” Trip answered, pawing through the pile of clothes on the floor, tossing items to their respective owners in desperate search of his own. “Damn it! Where are my pants?”

“Shit!”

Trip's head snapped back toward the bed, then followed Jon and T'Pol's stares out the window. Instead of stars, he saw a smear of a sticky-looking, translucent white substance glopped onto the surface. He was reminded of playing “Twinkie Autopsy” with Lizzie when they were kids.

“Bridge to Captain Archer.”

Unable to tear his eyes from the window as he hurriedly dressed, Jon stabbed the comm button without looking. “Archer here.”

“Sir,” came the nervous voice of Lieutenant Matthews, “we have a...situation....”

“I can see it out the window,” replied Jon. “I'll be right there.”

“Aye, sir,” Matthews answered. “Uh, Captain? I've been unable to locate Commanders T'Pol and Tucker. They're not in their quarters, and...a search of Hydroponics and the Jeffries Tubes haven't turned up anything, either.”

Trip rolled his eyes despite T'Pol's perplexed look and Archer's near-amusement. He'd been well-aware of the rumors regarding his relationship with T'Pol long before there even was a relationship, but they were officers; it wasn't like they were lower-decks personnel who had to retreat to these dark corners of the ship for a moment of privacy, away from roommates.

“I have a feeling I know where they are, Lieutenant. They'll be at their posts shortly. Archer out.”

T'Pol raised a quizzical eyebrow as Trip zipped her uniform up. “Hydroponics and the Jeffries tubes?”

“We'll show you sometime,” Jon answered. “Everyone turn around, make sure nobody's inside-out or backwards.”

Satisfied they'd dressed themselves correctly despite the chaos, they exchanged a lingering gaze before leaving—part regret over the interruption of their sleepy contentment, and part tacit agreement that what happened in Jon's quarters would stay in Jon's quarters; they would be nothing but professional when they walked out that door.

Finally, Jon said, “Let's go.”