The Beginning Of Us

TITLE: The Beginning Of Us
AUTHOR: Sue
E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
SERIES: Enterprise
Part: 1/1
RATING: R
CODES: T'/T m/f
CATEGORY: GEN/HET/Romance
SPOILERs: Slight Precious Cargo
ARCHIVE: Yes to all sites.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount.
No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: Having been taken captive, Trip and T'Pol
weigh their options.


The Beginning Of Us


I'm happy--don't know if she knows that, but I'm
hopeful. And, our present situation is far from
ideal. She may not be happy in the sense that I
am, but she's come a long way. We both have. One
thing's for damn certain: I'm no longer afraid of
what we can be together. I know we shouldn't be
just friends; that's just not enough any more.

We can do this...

I'm happy because I love her. Feeling the same for
me is hard for her, but that's okay. Every time she
looks at me, it's clear that she wants me--ME--Trip
'the irrational' Tucker the Third. And that goes so
much deeper than what we want to have physically.
Connecting on so many levels now is definitely
happening; it's just so fantastic! I never thought
we'd be on the same padd even if the mission would
have lasted a million years.

It hasn't been easy, not by a long shot. Too many
times it seemed as though we were just too different,
such opposites that we would never see eye to eye on
anything, most of all being the way we are now. But
wonders never cease, as my granddadddy on my mom's side
loves to counsel. We do see this most important thing
of all; we respect each other, we need each other and
we want each other, barring reservations.

We trust each other profoundly at long last.

Whenever we're together, we have something like fire
between us. It's almost like a living, breathing
thing; don't ask me to go into great detail since I
can't. I tend to think that it's partly a Vulcan thing
swirled with my raging hormones. She is an incredible
woman; as long as I live, I'll never know another like
her. T'Pol's the whole package wrapped in age-old alien
mystery. But with her looking at me the way she is now,
we're a woman and a man who need to have their hands on
each other--right about now would do fine.

She lets me kiss her, and I feel her wanting to deepen
our exploratory kiss. T'Pol is kissing me back, while my
jumbled thoughts tumble and roll with hers.

I run a heavy hand through her hair, hear her breathing
rustle against my cheek and my delirious smile swamps
the side of her face I've got my mouth burrowed into.
She cradles my ear with the palm of her hand. And that's
all it takes.

Next thing I know she's whispering to me in Vulcan;
her voice is melodic as she speaks my name. I could
listen to her like this forever. I hesitate though.
Our captors think we're going to give them a freak show.
They're in for a surprise, guaranteed. They imposed
this union, but they have no clue how it is between us.
The ceremony we were forced to participate in here on
Tallusk IV, at the business ends of plasma pistols, was
a mere formality in their voyeuristic culture. If we
had not recited their version of marriage vows, we
would have been fried on the spot. They're panting to
see a Vulcan and a human mate to satisfy their twisted
curiosities.

If we don't mate under their prying eyes, they say they
can target Enterprise and vaporize her right out of the
sky in fractions of split seconds. These faceless dome
dwellers on this toxic, barren world are dyin' to be
Peeping Toms in the worst way.

Little do they know that T'Pol and I have talked about
the subject of getting physical long before we were
captured by these non-corporeal nuts. They made the
threats so now it's up to us to do what we've got to
do in the best interests of our crewmates who don't know
our present location...yet. So much for trusting our
sensors that led us to believe there was nothing viable
that could survive down here. We can't let Jonathan,
Hoshi, Travis, Mal and yeah, even Phlox get zapped;
they'd never know what hit them. 'Tippy' and me'll
do what we've got to do. We'll give the s-o-bs their
'freak show,' no matter how sick they think it is, and
it is, but I can live with it...I think.

T'Pol gives me that look I've grown so used to seeing.
"I am ready when you are, Commander." Romantic little
dickens, isn't she? I sort of wince, hearing how she
is willing to make what our captors might consider to
be the ultimate sacrifice...or near enough to it for
her species. She leans against me and slips into my
ear, "We must proceed if we are to insure Enterprise's
safety."

I nod, never feeling so vulnerable in my life. Sure,
I've dreamed about intimacy with her many times, but
there were never disembodied alien spectators filling
the bleachers in any one of my vivid dreams. She
begins peeling my uniform from my shoulders, and in an
instant I'm doing the same with her form fitting clothes,
only a lot more nervously. I can't help but gulp,
feeling anticipation building, triggered by her gentle
touch.

We stand completely naked before each other, and say
nothing. I don't have breath, and if I say anything,
I'll sound like it. Besides, the way she looks
transcends words for the time being. God--the sight of
her bared breasts hurts my lungs, and I wonder if I'll
ever get my wind back. The skin-suit does her justice,
but, mercy, she in her birthday suit is a severe shock.

I've *never* seen another woman built like T'Pol!

I'm already hard as I drop to my knees and press my
worshipful lips to her smooth, taut flesh. Her tummy's
flatter than a padd's screen, but so much more pliant.
She shudders when my lips nibble her navel. She drops
to her knees then too, and we're kissing again; our
grateful hands tenderly cup each other's face. I run
greedy lips all the way to her browbone; her lips are
just under my chin. The sides of her face feel so
incredibly soft and hot enough to melt my palms.

I inhale sharply, and she asks if I'm all right.

Oh, yeah, I'm wonderful. I've died and gone to Risa with
T'Pol as my roommate, and we're in the palatial suite
on a ten-day leave--don't anybody dare disturb!

My hands slide down her firm arms until they are
overwhelmed by her ample bosom. I don't squeeze. I
don't dare, knowing that if I start, I won't be able to
stop, and unable to control myself, I'll hurt her and
hurting her is the last thing I ever want to do. I
fondle her equisite breasts as if they are too delicate
to withstand the slighest pressure.

"L'angik," she says submissively as I lower her onto her
back and bonelessly nudge my way in between her thighs,
as gentle as I can be because if I'm not, and I hurt
her, I'll hate myself.

I've read up on Vulcan males and how dominating and
callous they can be with their mates at a time like this.
I couldn't believe what I was reading when I read that
the majority of Vulcan brides have been known to wind up
permanantly injured, on top of being disfigured, following
the initial sexual encounter.

The rationality they pride themselves on flies out the
window when, in the grip of the blood fever, the male
libido slams into overdrive.

I'm human--all human--and I'll be damned if I act like
some pon farr-crazed buck. How could I--seeing how
hopelessly in love I am with this woman who three years
ago I would have gleefully shoved out of an airlock and not
have given it a second thought? It's absolutely amazin'
how things can get so turned around. Now, all I want to
do is make her happy, as far as she's capable of knowing
what that's like.

All that I feel for this beautiful lady lying beneath me
like whipped honey commands me to do right by her. It's
all about her--only about her. "Darlin'," I half moan,
half sigh, slowly easing myself inside of her. Before I
can finish, she gasps, and I blurt, "If I'm hurtin' ya,
you've got to let me know, sug--"

She grips the sides of my head, wedging my face in-between
her breasts. "Not--hurt--ing...Ooooo."

Her silky thighs compress my pelvis with strength that
spurs me on, although carefully. I bury myself deeper,
and her raspy Vulcan speech gets slurred. My brain's
misfiring. I'm so giddy, thinking straight isn't
happening, and still I'm holding back, but it's taking
all I've got with this much euphoria going on. "Y-you're
perfec--"

"Do...not...speak..."

Did she groan, or did I?

Her hips won't stop rising, her thighs keep clenching. Her
nails claw my sweat-drenched back before digging in. I'm
warping out faster than Enterprise ever has, to stardate.
It all feels so, so good; I pray I'm not dreaming.

A thrust...quickly followed by several more, gaining in
intensity. We're hitting our rhythm. The aliens be
damned!

I grunt, or did she? Not that it matters anymore. We are
in sublime unison, and I press her body even deeper into
the cushions that are the only homey touch to this arena
our spying hosts have provided us to, as Malcolm would
say, 'shag' each other in. At the back of my mind, the
thought that they're watching us someplace screened off
nags me.

Something fleeting touches my mind as pleasure runs hot
and liquid through my body. I'm thrusting uncontrollably
and T'Pol's moans turn into guttural wails. I'm hurting
her, but somehow, now, not wanting to shrinks from my
streaming thoughts that have been reduced to explosive
imagery.

She cries out as I smother her mouth with mine, and then...
I hear her shriek my name in the center of my mind; I pant
out her name just as fever-pitched. She is firmly anchored
in my mind's eye as I grind all the urgency I feel into her
slick velvety core.

The vibrant images in my brain writhe one moment, then pound
against my reason in the next. Still, firmly entrenched
dead center is T'Pol, charging me to...let go.

"I c-can't," I stammer, riding out the wave of another
thrust. "D-don't want to hu-hurt you if I c-can help it."
Kissing her shoulder, then her collarbone, I hear her
softly whisper through my chaotic thoughts.

'If you love me--you will. I need to feel you.'

Her voice in my mind is low and sexy as she wrestles my head
down to her breasts again.

"Pleasing you is the only thing that matters, T'Pol. Help
me, sweetheart!"

'Then trust me.'

"You know I do, with all my heart." My heart...the one
that feels like it's about to break.

'You are not Vulcan. You will not damage me.'

I still have wits enough to realize that she read my mind.
I'm not Vulcan, but that bond that's forged with mates
isn't prejudiced so it would seem. I make one of her
already stiff nipples stiffen even more, and when my tongue
takes a breather, I murmur, "A big girl like you can take
care of herself, huh?" And I chuckle against her heaving
bosom before nuzzling her other breast with my nose.

'I do not wish to ponder anything non-essential. Now, I
must feel what you truly are. Trip!--make me feel!'

"Darlin', I'm yours to do with what ya like--"

The thrust I cote ite is complemented by one more generous
tilt of her accommodating hips. She moans, I grunt into
her jaw where her damp neck meets her ear. I grit out
words that make no sense, yet say everything that she
needs to know.

And then we're there...we're so there, and it's hellacious,
and glorious; it's messy, she whispers, and I shiver with
laughter uncorked. I tell her that it's supposed to be,
and she caresses my earlobes, her fingertips barely touching.
It's smooth and it's rough and it's everything we've been,
everything we are and everything we have to be so this
soul-jarring completeness never stops.

I hug her harder than I ever have, but she doesn't make a
sound. I feel her take her next breath, and feel tingling
in my lower limbs. In my head she tells me that I am very
strong, and gracious. I tell her so's she. She's
surprised; I'm a lot stronger than she thought I could be.

Not bad for a puny Earth man, I think, gloating a little.
My Vulcan lover didn't fracture me. I really got her
worked up. I had her beggin' for more, in her unique sort
of way. Mildly, she scolds me then, in-between similar
thoughts I can't help think, reining me in.

'Don't let it go to your head, as you say.'

I grab the throw coverlet and drape it over us partly
for modesty's sake, and her body temperature's dropped.
She just shivered a little so I rub her arm. When I
recover my power of speech I tease, sounding risque,
"Which one?" She ignores that. Then waxing serious,
I tell her that this is only the beginning. Shadowing
my mellow thoughts, she wants to know what that's
supposed to mean. And I squeeze her tightly again only
to confess, "It's something I thought we'd never have."

T'Pol opens her eyes as her thoughts filter out of my
mind. The bond isn't lost though, it's just not as
strong as it had been when our bodies rippled with
passion that cascaded like a chain reaction. "What is
that?" she asks, her voice sounding a little choked, not
as devoid of feeling as is her norm.

Playfully, I buss the tip of her nose and murmur against
her puffy lips that are swollen from my loving abuse,
"It's the beginning of us, Darlin,' and between you and
me, I think we're off to a rip-snortin' start. You're
every definition of gorgeous I can think of."
r har hand sweeps across my face, and fireworks erupt in
every recess of my brain. "L'angik," she says as
submissively as she had said the lyrical word before.

"What's that mean?"

"Beginning...which depends upon Enterprise locating us.
I will not live in captivity," she says defiantly in
the candle-lit cell, still smoothing her hand over my
face.

"Details, details. Cap'n'll find us, bust us out of
here in two shakes. You know Jon. He's like a dog with
a favorite bone; he doesn't give up on anything that's
important to him. We head that list." Tenderly, I
abuse her lips once more. I tug a little on her lower
one with both of mine. Instead of wanting to untangle
herself from my arms, T'Pol continues to let me hold her,
as though she's as snug as a bug in a rug, not about to
upset a thing. I'm delighted; I didn't repulse her, and
this being her very first time with anyone too.

Gradually, she loses consciousness. After I finish
burying my face deeper into her neck, I think to myself
that my longest drought on record has mercifully come
to an end. I'm so glad that I waited to fall in love
with the woman I really wanted since that first day she
refused to shake my hand like I was contaminated. After
what we just did, it's wild to think she ever thought
that. Kaitaama, her royal 'stop touching me,' doesn't
count. She used me, I used her. T'Pol didn't usee
ie
inspired--God did she ever. We gave these devious
deviants their money's worth. Chuckling, I satedly give
T'Pol's neck a smooch.

Something not so funny strikes me before I drift off
in needed slumber. These refugees from a peep show
better keep their promise about not harming our friends,
or they'll discover what a crazy man after sex looks
like.

========
End