Knocking- Part 3

Knocking at the Gate

By Aquila

Part Three

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If I owned Trip and T’Pol, A Night in Sickbay would never have aired.
Summary: In the Delphic Expanse, complications arise as a result of previous choices made. This is an alternate universe, with spoilers.

==

“They must have passed on the dark side of that asteroid, while we were passing on the light side.” Malcolm slammed his fist hard into the palm of his other hand.

Colonel Chu’s voice floated in the air around them, “We must alert Enterprise. Go to warp, this operation has moved from covert to overt.”

==

Fuck. Now what? Trip rolled over onto his back in frustration. Testosterone raged through his system. His brain and body were in synch. T’Pol and he were in the same space. They were naked for Cochrane’s sake! What the fuck had he done wrong now? His turmoil lasted less than a heartbeat. When T’Pol severed their mental connection, she joined them physically, mounting him.

“Oh!” He expelled the word in a long sigh that prompted T’Pol to squeeze her internal muscles. “Ah!” He strained upward, as she maintained her hold. He was aware of nothing, but the way he felt inside her. Unexpectedly, she relaxed her hold. He had been thrusting upward. She slid down.

“We fucking don’t fit, baby.” He cried out loud, near tears with the frustration. There was too much of him and not enough of her. “No, no, no, no.” He keened.

“Charles, just knock on the gate. Please.” She tried to soothe him with her touch, but he swept her hand away. Rocking his head from side to side, not listening. “Charles, please, you must knock on the gate.”

He ignored her pleading, so she took control. She kept her natural power and strength hidden. She had learned early in her dealings with humans that males reacted negatively when they discovered that she was many times stronger than they were. The situation had become too intense to maintain the illusion that she was a soft, weak female, surrendering to the stronger male.

She thrust her pelvis down. He felt the resistance give way. He felt as if a thousand tiny fingers were massaging his erection. She slid up and the massaging sensation reversed. Her second downward thrust unleashed him. He grabbed her hips, rolled them over so that she was on her back. Then he began to explore the sensations, sliding gently in and slowly out. She moaned. He tried again, a little harder and little sharper. She moaned louder. He rotated his pelvis, crushing against her, rubbing inside her. She began to pant. When he thrust hard and deep she cried his name. That was the moment he lost control, giving no more thought to her pleasure, just seeking release. She urged him on. Her thrusts keeping time with his.

“Son of a bitch, baby.” He shuddered and twitched as his body spurted the life giving force into her womb. He slumped, boneless and breathing hard. “What the hell, was that?” The gate had closed, he was her prisoner, his body trapped inside hers. “Come on, honey, let go. You’re killin’ me.”

“I can’t, Charles.” She lifted his chin so that she could look him in the eye. “You are the key, Charles. I cannot do this without you. I’m sorry, Commander.”

==

Rorke spoke first. “There are four warp trails, Sir.”

Lt. Reed hailed shuttlepod 2. “Four warp trails, one of them is the Enterprise.”

“We see that Lieutenant.” Chu confirmed. “Looks like T’Pol and Tucker will be getting some help with that survey of theirs.”

“Makes sense, Sir,” replied Malcolm. “Our rendezvous with Enterprise isn’t for another two days. We will conserve fuel and supplies if we wait planet side.”

“We’ll follow you in, Malcolm. Chu out.”

==

“I’m sorry, Commander.”

They weren’t able to severe the physical bond, but one little phrase had opened a chasm between them emotionally. He was a hands-on man, not a damn psychologist. So he did what he did best, he used his hands.

“Ya know, baby, that first time, in decon, I wanted to touch your ears. It was like a fire inside me. The damnedest sexy thing I had ever felt.” As he rumbled his story his fingers explored her ears. “Ya were there all covered in the gel, stripped down to your skivvies. You were frownin’. But ya didn’t fool me.”

T’Pol sighed. He felt her trembling under him. He pinched her lobes, then slowly massaged them. Her heart rate increased. He could feel it thudding against her rib cage.

“Ya wanted me too, didn’t ya?”

He slid down as far as their current circumstance would allow. He continued to massage her ears, but added the sensation of his tongue on her breast to the mix. The jolt of lust she felt drove her pelvis up into his. He thrust down, holding her in place.

He let go of the nipple long enough to ask, “T’Pol, tell me what you feel when I make love to ya, please.”

He synchronized the rotation of his fingers on her ear lobes with the movements of his tongue on her breast.

Through intermittent moans, she whispered, “I was curious. You had taken your…undershirt off…your physique…surprised me.” She cried out. He had nipped her, drawing blood. She groaned in response. “An engineer with the muscle tone of an athlete, it defied convention.”

Trip released her to emit a loud chuckle. “People have been saying that about me all my life.” He turned his head so that he could rest his cheek between her breasts. “Tell me more.’

“Captain Archer let me read the ‘eyes only’ parts of your service record.” T’Pol felt him stiffen with surprise.

“Ouch.” He had pulled away without thinking only to be stopped by the hold she had on him. “Why’d he do that?”

“I think it was his way of trying to make this easier for both of us.” T’Pol moaned, long and low. She was beginning to feel like a coiled spring again.

Trip recognized the signs, so he concentrated on her pleasure, making a trail of warm breath on her skin, as he increased the pressure on her lobes. She began to writhe beneath him. It was painful, until he rolled them over so that she was on top. He could relax his pelvis, moving it with her.

Snap. He was free and she had crumble into a heap on top of him sobbing.

“Looks like I found the key, baby,” he said smug with satisfaction.

T’Pol shot up. “We must get dressed.”

“Come on, T’Pol, don’t ya want to bask in the afterglow?” Trip teased her.

“The shuttlepods are returning.”

“Shit! Your clothes and mine – they are on the beach.”

==

Something wasn’t right. Malcolm could not put his finger on it, but he knew. Trip was rubbing the back of his neck constantly as if he had a massive headache. T’Pol, who twenty-four hours before had circles under eyes and no appetite, was sipping Plomeek soup by the liter. Her complexion was once again flawless porcelain. He rose from his seat to stand beside Commander Tucker.

“Are you all right, Sir?” Malcolm turned his back to the fire, so that his voice would not travel toward the group warming their hands in front of it.

“Just a bit of a headache, Mr. Reed.” Malcolm noted that Trip’s eyes flickered in T’Pol’s direction. “Has she been giving you a hard time, Commander?”

Trip choked, spewing a mouthful of coffee in all directions.

T’Pol was by his side in two strides, “The Commander, Mr. Reed, has been exerting himself to ensure my well being to the detriment of his.”

Tucker put his hand over his mouth to hide the smile. His wife had a particular talent for speaking the truth, while dissembling.

“He has been giving me a hard time, Lieutenant.” T’Pol put her arm through Trip’s. “He has not allowed me to return the ministrations. However, for the good of the mission, I insist that he return to our tent and let me tend to his needs.”

Tucker doubled over, coughing to cover the guffaws that threatened to erupt and to hide the arousal that the promise of her words had caused.

End of Part Three

**********************

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