Equilateral

Chapter Seven


Engineering was still a bustle of activity when Archer arrived with T'Pol in tow. Trip's team had spent days working round the clock in EVA suits to remove egg sac goo from the warp nacelles, while T'Pol's department had been working on possible ways to speed up the process. Jon noted that everyone looked as tired and drawn as he felt, and he promised himself he'd order extra shore leave for everyone involved the next time they reached a safe port.

Trip's last report sounded encouraging. The bulk of the crisis passed, Jon and T'Pol left the bridge in Reed's care to get some much-needed rest.

They found Trip at his console, monitoring readouts and making adjustments. “That's it...that's it...okay, shut it down there, Hess.”

“We about there, Commander?” Jon asked. He saw that Trip looked even rougher than the rest of the engineering crew. It was a safe bet he'd been skipping his rest periods.

“Almost, Cap'n.” Trip said. “The exhaust manifolds are finally clear, and we're about to bring the plasma injectors online.”

T'Pol's eyes narrowed slightly. “When was the last time you slept, Commander?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Commander.”

Jon turned his head slightly in an effort to stifle his grin. Despite the recent changes in their lives, it appeared some things would stay the same. He took comfort in that. “Why don't you come with us?” he asked once he was sure he wouldn't laugh. “You're probably about due for a break, aren't you?”

“Wish I could,” Trip answered regretfully. “I'd only have to come back in twenty minutes, half-hour any way.”

Archer's gaze shifted from Trip to T'Pol. He didn't miss the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. He didn't blame her; it had been days since the three of them had even sat down for a meal together, let alone anything else. Though he'd been on the bridge with T'Pol through most of what the crew had come to call the “goo situation,” they remained so focused on their duties, and she may as well have been decks away like Trip. Though they were never far, Jon missed them.

“How soon before you can get away?” Jon asked quietly.

Trip shrugged apologetically. “Couple of hours.”

Jon exchanged a glance with T'Pol. Neither of them wanted to leave Trip there, but it seemed there was little they could do.

Trip leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I'll catch up with you as soon as I can. You two go on ahead.”

“Hurry.” T'Pol said. Jon wondered if she was aware she pushed her lips together that way whenever she found the situation unsatisfactory.

“Promise,” Trip assured them with a wink before turning to get back to work.

After leaving, Jon and T'Pol rode the turbolift together in silence, both too tired for small talk. Mentally, Jon was wired, but his body ached with exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he pressed at his temples, trying to ease away some of the tension from the last couple of days.

Without warning, he felt warm fingers pressing on either side of his vertebrae in the back of his neck. When they released him, he felt the pain in his head slowly evaporate.

He turned to T'Pol and smiled. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“Perhaps it's time I begin instructing you in neuropressure as well.”

“Sure. But I bet it's nothing like a good hot stone massage.”

T'Pol arched her brow as the doors parted. Exiting the lift, they began heading their separate ways toward their respective quarters. “I have no basis for comparison.”

Jon smiled enthusiastically. “Really? Come with me, then.”

T'Pol hesitated, presumably wondering what she was about to get herself into.

“I promise, you'll love this,” Jon urged. “Come on.”

With the barest tilt of her head, T'Pol acquiesced.

* * *

They walked into his cabin, and Jon immediately felt more relaxed. Although, one thing was missing.

"Where is Porthos?" asked T'Pol.

"With Phlox," said Archer, "It's not fair to keep him cooped up here when I'm working 18 hours a day."

T'Pol crossed to one of the chairs by the window, and she tentatively sat down.

"Do you wish to retrieve him?" she asked.

Archer got two glasses and a bottle out from a cabinet.

"Nah. He's probably sound asleep. I'll get him in the morning."

He poured himself a drink.

"This is the last bottle of Andorian ale," he said, "Would you care for a glass?"

She nodded, and he poured a glass for her and brought it to her. She took the glass from him, but she didn't take a drink. She just stared at the blue liquid.

"Is it okay, T'Pol? You don't have to drink it." It occurred to him that he didn't even know if she liked Andorian ale.

In response to his words, she took a generous sip.

"Okay, so you do like it."

He noticed that her face wasn't as serene as usual. He knew she had slipped back to her quarters over the past few days for meditation, but she had mentioned that her schedule had been cut back. He wanted to reach up and take her hand, to soothe her in some way. But for some reason, even after everything they had shared recently, he was reticent.

Setting down her drink, T'Pol reached for his hand.  "Jonathan, we're each experiencing a period of adjustment.  As one of my mates, it is your right to touch me."

Jon inhaled. He didn't want to exercise a right over her. He wanted to make her happy.

Or content. Or whatever she wanted to feel.

"But is it okay with you if I touch you? And he's not here?"

T'Pol finished her drink and set the empty glass aside. She squeezed his fingers, a small, warm gesture of reassurance. "Trip sometimes touches me when you are not present. Does that bother you?"

He realized her question wasn't rhetorical. She really wanted to know if it bothered him. Jon thought for a moment. Sometimes Trip and T'Pol were going to be together when he wasn't around, just as he was with her now. Although he hadn't specifically thought of it, it seemed silly to think that Trip would avoid showing her affection just because he wasn't there.

And he was pretty sure that Trip would feel the same.

"No," he said carefully, "It doesn't bother me."

He looked into her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of her hands. Then, almost suddenly, he got up and headed to one of his cabinets.

"I promised you a hot stone massage. . .and you're going to get one."

He kept the stones in a titanium bucket that doubled as a heater. He flipped on the switch.

"It will take about five minutes for the stones to heat up probably. Maybe six or seven to account for your body temperature. . .this tradition goes back centuries on Earth, but these are Martian stones, and they retain heat better than anything on Earth.

"Now," he said, "This will work better if you take off your clothes."

T’Pol raised her eyebrow at that, and he smiled. She had a point. If she got naked, there was a strong likelihood they wouldn’t get to the massage. That wouldn’t be fair. He fetched his robe from a hook near the shower.

“Put this on,” he said averting his eyes, “You don’t need to be fully naked until we begin.”

He headed into the small bathroom to grab his bottle of massage oil.  When he emerged, his uniform had been replaced by his favorite pajama bottoms.  T'Pol's catsuit was folded neatly on a chair and she was tying his robe, which was endearingly oversized on her small frame.

“I hope that sensitive nose of yours doesn’t mind lavender, the oil is scented with that. It’s supposed to help humans relax.”

T’Pol stepped forward and took a deep breath above the bottle.

“It is a pleasant scent.”

“Good,” he replied, “Now let me get an extra sheet to put on the bed.”

When that chore was done, he checked the stones.  "I think we're about ready.  Go ahead and lie on your stomach.  We can start."

She undid the robe and returned it to the hook before crawling up onto his bed.

"Hands at your sides, just relax."

He chose two medium sized stone and placed them into the palms of her hands.

"They aren't too hot for you, are they?"

"No," she whispered.

He then took two larger stones and placed them on the arches of her feet. Her toes twitched almost imperceptibly.

Jon grinned.  "I didn't know Vulcans could be ticklish."

He poured a generous amount of the oil into his hands and began to rub it into her back and shoulders before moving down to her buttocks and legs. He grabbed a big stone and began to rub her back.

Her breathing deepened, slowing to match the ebb and flow of the stone gliding against her flesh.

Deliberately, he made sure that the stone touched her all over. Back. Buttocks. Thighs. Calves. Occasionally, she winced in pain as he hit a particularly tense spot, but she never told him to stop. He eventually leaned down and kissed the small of her back, eliciting a gasp from her.

"Turn over," he said, taking the stones from her hands and feet.

He gasped himself at the sight of her. Not just her gorgeous body, but they way she stared at him expectantly just took his breath away.

His dick was already hard as a rock, but now it ached. He poured more oil in his hands and began to rub it into her breasts and stomach. He didn't bother with the stones - he needed to feel her skin beneath his fingers.

She drew a ragged breath at his touch.

His impatient hands moved lower, parting her thighs.

She closed her eyes in anticipation, and she moaned as he began to massage her between her legs.

He reached over and got another - more oblong shaped stone. He gently placed it against her swollen clit and began to rub it against her. She writhed and moaned in response. He smiled, knowing that this was just the beginning.

He walked around the bed so he could position himself between her legs. He took the hot stone and slipped it inside her body.

Her moan became a choked cry, and she placed her feet on his back. He started to move the rock in and out of her body. It was drenched by her her own wetness, not just the oil. Her thighs were trembling.

"Are you okay, T'Pol?" he whispered, looking up at her.

She stared down at him and nodded.

"Don't stop . . .please. . ." she choked.

He smiled, before bending down and tonguing firmly at her clit as he continued to work at her with the stone.

She began to frantically move in response to him. He pressed harder and moved faster, sensing the pressure mounting in her body. He kept going until she let out such a scream he worried someone might send security down.

He gently removed the rock from her body and set it aside before crawling up next to her. She was breathing steady but appeared to have passed out. He waited patiently for her eyes to open, when they did, he give her a long, slow opened mouth kiss.

Drawing Jon into her embrace, T'Pol never broke the kiss as she shifted, pulling him onto her. She wrapped a leg around his waist, pressing up against him.

He contemplated making her wait a little longer for what she wanted, but in truth he, too, was growing impatient.  Grabbing her hips gently, he angled her upward, pushing in slowly, choosing to savor the sensation of her flesh sliding against his while he still had a measure of control.

He looked down into her eyes, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

He began to thrust after that, reaching between their bodies and massaging her swollen clit. He knew he didn't have much time to make her come again, but he wanted to make sure she did. Couldn't have her decide to replace him and Trip with rocks, after all.

She spasmed around him, moaning and giving a short scream. That was his undoing, and he came inside her as euphoria washed over him. He collapsed against her, vaguely aware of her breathing and heartbeat.

“Jonathan,” she sighed.

Jon had to admit the sound of his name from her lips made him tingle. Though she used his proper name, it didn't come off stiff and impersonal. Rather, she spoke it with all the affection he hadn't previously dared to hope for.

He lifted his head to drop tender kisses onto T”Pol's mouth. Her caresses along his back and in his hair sent a jolt through his still-quaking body, yet he was beginning to feel serene and grounded as well. He hadn't realized he'd been adrift, nearly lost, until she and Trip had been there to anchor him.

Trip. It had been strange, maybe a little awkward at first without his presence, but Jon was grateful for this time alone with T'Pol. They each knew that collectively, the three of them had something special and important; still, the dynamics of where they fit with each other individually were uncertain, and the evening had done much to quiet many of his lingering doubts. T'Pol had made it clear that she had taken two mates, each held in equal regard, with equal responsibilities and benefits. She needed them as much as they both needed her.


* * *

The warp engine start-up had taken twice as long as it should have. The goo was insidious. Every time Trip thought his team had the problem licked, the stuff would pop up somewhere else, only to put them further behind schedule.

It was so late, he considered not joining Jon and T'Pol as he'd promised. He was reluctant to wake anyone up from their much-needed rest, though he had no particular desire to be alone.

Still, Trip had to admit that the simple message Jon had sent to his console had brought a smile to his face: We'll leave the light on for you. His mind made up, Trip dragged his tired and filthy body into the shower before changing and heading to Jon's quarters.

Later, his fingers hesitated over the keypad next to Jon's door, his apprehension returning. He realized it wasn't merely the wish to not wake anyone up that was holding him back. He knew it was pretty likely that Jon and T'Pol had made use of their time alone together for intimacy; if the situation were different and it was Jon who had been pulled away by duty, Trip knew it was a safe bet he and T'Pol would've done the same thing. He felt no jealousy. He was more worried about his presence being regarded as an intrusion.

Although, he reasoned, Jon wouldn't have sent the message if he wasn't welcome.

Trip took a deep breath. Bracing himself for rejection, he typed his override code into the pad.

He stepped in quickly so the door would close, keeping the bright corridor lights from waking anyone up. As promised, the cabin was dimly illuminated so Trip could find his way around without walking into anything. He found them sleeping soundly, wrapped up around each other. He almost turned to go, feeling badly about disturbing them.

Before he could move, T'Pol stirred. He put a hand up to indicate that she shouldn't get up or say anything, but she disregarded the gesture, instead gently nudging Jon and whispering news of Trip's arrival. Jon murmured something unintelligible that Trip suspected might've been “Hi,” had it been a sane hour.

Trip watched as Jon and T'Pol disengaged from each other, scooting to opposite sides of the bed as Jon peeled back the covers. It was clear what they wanted.

Smiling, Trip quickly shed his tee shirt and sweats. He eagerly crawled into the space they'd created between them and soon was swallowed up by the covers and the tangle of limbs. His doubts weren't just unfounded; he'd come in to the opposite of what he feared.

He'd been missed.

Eventually they settled into a comfortable, living knot. T'Pol had her head nestled into Trip's chest; Jon was resting his on Trip's shoulder. Trip savored the warmth of sleepy flesh pressing up against him from either side.

His last thought before sliding into blissful unconsciousness: I could definitely get used to this.