Lone Wolf- pt. 5

Lone Wolf

Author: Aquila

Part Five

Rating: NC-17
Warning: Spoilers, Alternate Universe
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the Trek universe
Summary: A sequel to The T’Key

==

The loneliness of command, a cliché used by authors and admirals to add an aura of romance to the relentless, sometimes tedious, always demanding role of captain. For the first time since Enterprise had left space dock, Archer was immersed in the reality.

Bittersweet emotions had accompanied Hoshi’s announcement earlier in the day that she had located Trip’s transponder beacon. The maverick in his Chief Engineer had finally won out stripping him of the veneer Starfleet had so carefully applied. Would Trip be willing, not just able, to return to the fold? Was he, the captain, willing to let him? If Archer did not permit Trip to return, T’Pol would be lost to Archer forever.

A wave of nausea buckled his knees at the thought of a life without her in it. Regret tossed him to a ready room chair, with his head in his hands. Did he have the strength to hide his pain from the couple, if they remained on board? Would his nights be interrupted with fits of jealousy, when he awoke with longing, knowing that they were sharing an intimacy of which he could only dream? At what cost to his sanity?

==

They sat in darkness, residual memories of their mental joining providing the only illumination. His only clue to her condition was her tone of voice as she asked: “Do you choose me?”

She waited. She thanked the illogic of creation for her better night vision. She took comfort from the roiling emotions that played across his face. Indecision and doubt on his part were logical responses. Hope lived.

Charles Tucker preferred action to debate, yet he believed in the importance of conjecture and speculation. Evolution sprung from turmoil, his own personal chaos theory. He was about to put it to the test.

He reached for her. T’Pol stilled, letting him take the lead. His hands found her ears. With his fingers, he traced the whorls. The first time he had touched her like this, her facial features had softened and her eyes had closed. She had retreated to some inner island of calm, from where she waited while he conjured a storm of desire that swamped her island. In the dark he imagined that he had once again set the storm in motion.

When his fingers lingered on her lobes, creating an internal and external heat with the friction of his thumb and forefinger, she began to keen tunelessly, trembling. He released her left hear and she sighed. With his free hand he unzipped her uniform, peeling the bodice so that it bunched at her waist. He leaned closer, maintaining his caress of her right ear, with his hand he traced the exposed skin. His touch was followed by a puff of warm breath that caused her skin to contract. She began to moan. With the shape of her etched in his mind, he continued to tease her with his breath. His fingers returned to torment her ears. Her moaning filled the shuttle, as her breathing grew ragged. Trip basked in her radiant heat, using the increasing intensity as a gauge of the depth of her desire. When he determined she was wound tight, ready to uncoil, he withdrew his touch.

==

“Captain?”

Hoshi’s voice brought him from the edge of despair. He pushed a button on the ready room desk, “Archer here.”

“We’ve received a confirmation from T’Pol. She found the shuttle.”

“Thank you, Hoshi. I’ll be in the fitness facility.”

He would exorcise the anxiety with exercise.

==

T’Pol screamed with anger, her control in tattered shreds. She grabbed his head, placing three fingers on each cheek. Anger fueled her chant. She felt Tucker’s muscles moved beneath her grip. He was smiling.

“Come on, baby,” he urged, “It is up to you now. All I have is yours, darlin’, but ya have ta take it, good with the bad. I promise I’ll make ya feel better, but ya got ta create that bond first.”

She increased the pressure. For a brief moment he thought she might break his cheekbones. Releasing a torrent of Vulcan calmed her. She was in his mind in seconds. Instead of the faint tickle he associated with their other bonding attempts, he found himself careening out of control through a maze of images and emotions. T’Pol as a child merged with T’Pol as a student, which faded into T’Pol alone in her quarters, her hand poised over the intercom button, wanting to page him, but denying herself. Then all was replaced by memories of the conception of their child. His fear, her joy, their passion requited at last. He followed the spiral of her thoughts to the secret places, where the doubts she felt about her people and its culture resided. She left him there to feel her pain, a gift.

From there they tumbled over and over into a whirlpool of emotion, clinging to each other as they fought the eddies. Love, hate, desire, lust, doubt, envy, jealousy, regret, grief, joy, the list was endless. Eventually they clung to desire like a life raft. As Trip relaxed in the relative safety of the emotion, T’Pol slipped behind his defenses. She brought a glimmer of light to the darkness. She rifled through his mental demons as her hands stripped his external body of clothing. Two could play the game.

She brought her mouth down hard on his, invading him on two fronts. His hormones dashed to defend the latest breach leaving his mental defenses weakened. T’Pol pressed the attack. He felt her revulsion as she faced his self-loathing, but he could nothing. His body abandoned him to pursue their pleasure. Without conscious thought he had stripped her of her remaining clothing. They were naked physically and emotionally.

==

Archer increased the tension on the stationary cycle. His breathing grew laboured, the sweat poured down his brow. Damp patches grew from his armpits and down his back. He dragged himself forward, one rotation after another and another and another. His demons kept pace.

==

With the bond firmly in place, Trip fulfilled his promise. She was a powder keg, just waiting for the fire of his touch to ignite her. Her convulsions rocked the pod. He held her tight, intensifying the aftershocks with puffs of breath on her skin. She grabbed his beard, burying her nose into ragged whiskers, breathing deeply of his scent.

“T’Pol, how do we make this thing permanent?” His question wormed its way into her consciousness. “I don’t ever want to tell ya, not tonight honey, I got a headache.”

She enjoyed the way his smile caused his whiskers to rub against her cheek, which she had pressed against his face. He thrilled at her understanding of the double entendre. He planned to turn flirtin’ into a spectator sport of Olympic proportions.

“Honey, tell me what we have ta do?” He spoke his question. “Ah, I see.”

His moan of pleasure as she drew him into her body was accompanied by the tickling sensation that he recalled from their first attempt at bonding. He cradled her with his thoughts as she took and gave pleasure.

I’m sorry that I don’t know the right things to say and do tonight. I’m sorry that I can’t make my vows in Vulcan. I regret that I won’t ever be able to give you a child. I apologize for the rift our joining will build between you and Jon.

Oh no, ya can’t do that! If ya do that I’m goin’ to forget everythin’ but makin’ ya scream my name again. I’m supposed to do that? Ya mean it is essential. There’s got to be more to this? OK, I’ll trust ya, darlin’ – but ya got to promise to explain it to me later. Promise T’Pol.

==

A crewman regarded the captain, towel around his neck, activity suit dark with perspiration. He was distracted. She knew it was his habit to acknowledge any of the crew he met in the hall. She smothered the greeting that had sprung to her lips and let him pass in silence.

Inside his cabin, as he stripped his exercise clothes from his body, he addressed Porthos, “I need Trip and T’Pol. I’m a better captain for knowing them. They are my closest friends. I cannot finish this mission without them.”

He dropped his clothes on the floor and headed to the shower. “I’m feeling better already, Porthos.”

The dog thumped his tail on the deck.

==

A thrum had replaced the tickling sensation. His wife, her legs straddling his hips, lay atop his chest, dozing. He drifted between sleep and consciousness, each sensation heightened because they shared it. He sent a lazy thought into the ether that he had begun to think of as the essence of their union.

It’s kinda like the hum of the engine, comfortin’. Immediately a feeling of comfort surrounded them. She agreed with him. He did not understand how he knew, he just knew and that was enough.

The essence of the she elbowed her way into his male essence.

Is that the way its goin’ to be, T’Pol? Me, you and us? We tell the difference by the context of the thought?

The she smiled. The he grinned, You bet ya got yourself one smart human. You are not going to like my solution to the current situation, T’Pol.

The us slipped away, leaving the essence of the male and the female to negotiate a plan.

End of Part Five

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

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One person has made comments

Ya had me seriously worried there for a while... please do continue things are looking better on all fronts.