Prediliction for Emotion-txt

Predilection for Emotion

By Aquila

Rating: NC-17
Category:
Spoilers: Uh, huh
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything Trek, but not my imagination.
Summary: T’Pol meets Trip’s parents. Sequel to my story, Nascent Abilities.

**

“Trip has arrived.”

Mother Tucker peeked through the diamond shaped window centred in the top third of their front door.

“I can see that,” her husband hissed in her ear.

The pair fell silent as they watched their cherished son lean toward the female sitting in the passenger seat of the runabout hovering over their front lawn. They stopped breathing as the kiss grew more passionate.

“She is suffocating him. Do something.” Mother Tucker slapped her husband’s arm.

Father Tucker swept Trip’s mother into his arms for a soul stirring smooch of his own.

T’Pol was positioned so that when she opened her eyes she looked directly at the Tucker’s front door. The sight of her in-laws in a passionate, public embrace startled her sufficiently that she pulled out of Trip’s arms, terminating their psychic connection, because she needed time to process the observation.

“What’s wrong, T’Pol?”

Trip turned in the direction of T’Pol’s stare.

“Jeez...,” Trip thrust his head out of the window of the runabout and yelled, “It’s OK, Dad. You don’t have to distract Mother any longer.”

Trip stepped out of the runabout walking around to open the passenger door. T’Pol placed her hand into his allowing him to assist her from the vehicle. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her to the front door.

“Did I forget to mention that whenever my Mother gets into a tizzy over somethin’, my dad distracts her by kissing her senseless?”

**

Mrs Tucker patted down her dress and finger combed the curls that had gone astray as a result of her partner’s vigorous clinch. He husband placed a chaste kiss on her flushed cheek then whispered in her ear, “Your lipstick is smudged.”

She tapped him then dashed down the hall to fix her face before meeting her daughter-in-law.

Chuckling, Charlie Tucker opened his front door to find his son with his fist raised as if he were about to knock.

“Welcome home, son.”

His father gripped him in a bear hug. The familiar scent of the man made Trip momentarily feel as if he were 14 again. He dropped the overnight case he held so that he could return the hug.

T’Pol standing aside watched in fascination as tears fell freely from her father-in-law’s eyes to dampen the back of his son’s shirt. She recalled an expression Trip used often: He comes by it naturally. Her husband came by naturally his predilection for emotion.

**

“You must be T’Pol.”

The Vulcan shifted her gaze from the men to the woman who had materialized on the porch with a suddenness that disconcerted her.

“How do you do, Mrs. Tucker?” T’Pol drew a cloak of formality around her.

The eyes of Gladys Tucker roved from her daughter-in-law’s head to her feet and back, finally coming to rest on T’Pol’s face.

“I’m doing fine, child, but you, on the other hand, are not.”

Mother Tucker bent her right arm so that the forearm was parallel to the porch floor, and away from her body.

“Thank you.” With relief, T’Pol rested her left hand on Mrs. Tucker’s forearm and allowed her to lead them to a pair of wicker chairs situated either side of a low wrought iron table.

“Trip, honey,” Her son looked at his mother over his father’s shoulder. “When you two have finished pounding each other on the back, draw your wife a bath. Charlie, go see Doc Enfield and ask him for some of that liniment I use when your back acts up. When you get back you can light the coals for the BBQ. The children are going to be hungry before long.”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered the Tucker men in unison.

Trip released his father, picked up the overnight bag. Before entering the house, he tossed the keys to the runabout to his father, who grinned in anticipation of test driving the sleek new vehicle.

**

As Gladys poured some lemonade from a jug that rested on the table she explained to T’Pol that the table was the first project Trip made in shop class as a young boy. The comment caused T’Pol to look more closely at what she originally believed was merely a utilitarian object.

“He was going through an Art Nouveau period,” said Gladys.

T’Pol could see the influence. The legs were wrought in the shape of vines that curled upward intertwining to create a frame on which a glass table top rested.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Mrs Tucker nodded her head in the direction of T’Pol’s stiff leg.

“I was on Risa assisting Captain Archer at a plenary session for the proposed federation.”

Her mother-in-law poured lemonade into her own glass.

“Two mercenaries materialized in front of us, weapons at the ready. They began firing as soon as the transport was complete. I pushed Jon out of the line of fire.”

The women sipped lemonade, measuring each other over the rim of their glasses.

“Your bath is ready, milady.”

His mother grinned at her son who stood bowed before them, one leg forward and an arm extended as if he had swept a plumed hat from his head.

“See that she soaks that stiff leg,” ordered his mother, placing the glasses and jug on a tray, “The liniment will be more effective when you apply it.”

**

T’Pol had not realized the depth of her exhaustion until she eased herself into the warm, scented bath water. She rested her head on the tub pillow, closing her eyes gratefully.

“You are staring,” she accused, from behind closed eyelids. Trip did not deny it.

“Do you know how beautiful you look?”

He knelt by the tub, cupped water in his left hand, letting it run through his fingers to bead on her exposed breasts. He leaned over the edge of the tub and licked the droplets from her body. She responded by arching her back.

“The air is damp and warm,” observed his wife. “You must be uncomfortable fully clothed?”

Slowly T’Pol lowered the mental barriers. Her consciousness nibbled at the edges of his awareness causing a tingling sensation which set his body thrumming. He straightened and clasped the hem of his shirt. Leisurely he exposed his abs, then his chest, his head momentarily disappearing as he pulled the shirt over his head. When he saw her again her eyes were open and her pupils dilated.

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, letting them slide slowly down his legs. She watched intently as she intensified the invasion of his mind. Trip stepped out of the puddle that his trousers made around his ankles. He kicked them aside. At her unspoken command he stilled. Greedily her eyes roved over his body.

“Do you know how beautiful you look?” telepathically she echoed his question.

His body thrummed, resonating with a heady mixture of approval and desire. Coyly he turned his back and eased his shorts down, teasing her, prolonging their silent foreplay.

**

“Doc Enfield said that liniment wouldn’t work well on Vulcan physiology,” shouted Charlie Tucker letting the screen door bang shut behind him.

Gladys hurried to meet him. “Did he give you something else?” She grabbed his arm and turned him around. “Let’s take the long way round to the BBQ pit.” Gladys pulled him back outside.

“What’s got into you, woman?” He stopped. “Doc Enfield said this stuff will make T’Pol feel like a million bucks.”

Gladys tugged the sleeve of his shirt. “She’ll want that later, but right now, it appears she has found another method of relaxing her tired muscles.”

At that moment Gladys and Charlie Tucker passed the guest wing. Drifting from an open window were the universal sounds of an aroused female.

Charlie grinned, “That’s my boy!”

**

Trip entered the water and his wife in one continuous movement. She had hooked her knees over the side of the tub, splaying her legs in an age old invitation. She gripped the rim of the free standing tub with each hand, arching her neck so that the crown of her head was cradled by the pillow. Trip knelt between her legs, gripping the tub on either side of her head. The pair used the tub to leverage the intensity of their thrusts, causing the bath water to slosh over the sides onto the floor, drenching the clothes Trip had left lying there.

“Deeper.” Her command filled his mind. She could not hide the pain her injured leg was causing her, yet he strove to obey, because her desire for a union of their bodies was greater than the discomfort the act caused.

“Gently,” he executed her instructions, and was rewarded for it, by a tightening of her interior muscles.

“Faster,” she cried, unleashing him.

He gripped the edges of the tub until his knuckles turned white, unaware of the bruises that were blossoming on his kneecaps. He drove on, encouraged by her moans and the silent shrieks of pleasure inside his head. This was not the occasion for tenderness.

**

“Hey, Dad.”

Charlie turned his attention from the coals to his son, who stood before him bare-chested dressed in a towel and flip flops. Trip had always been a cocky boy Charlie remembered. The cockiness had been replaced by confidence. The virile man before him radiated self-assurance.

“Mom says you have some special Vulcan friendly liniment for T’Pol?”

Charlie pointed with the poker at a bag on the picnic table. “Doc Enfield said some doctor named Phlox sent him a case of it with a note that said you might need it.” An unspoken question floated in the air.

“Phlox is Enterprise’s doctor. Without his skill, T’Pol might have lost her leg. She’s the only reason Jon’s alive today.”

Charlie put the poker down. “So Gladys said.” He waited until Trip had the bag containing the liniment in his hand. “It is more than sex, isn’t, son?”

“We already had that talk, Dad, about twenty years ago. Don’t you remember?”

The expression on the face of his father wiped the grin from Trip’s.

“The sex just gets better and better,” Trip shivered involuntarily as an erotic montage flashed through his mind. T’Pol was growing impatient. “But that’s because our relationship is rock solid emotionally and intellectually.”

“Good.” As far as the second Charles Tucker was concerned, the subject was closed.

**

Phlox’s instructions for applying the liniment lay on the coverlet by his knee. Trip still wearing only a towel knelt on the bed at a right angle to T’Pol, who was prone in front of him. She wore a bathrobe that was open sufficiently to allow him access to her injured leg. He warmed the liniment in the palm of his hands before beginning a tender massage.

**

The glitter of the stars overhead was repeated by the tiny lights twinkling in the trees surrounding the BBQ pit. The fragrance of bougainvillea travelled on the night breeze. Charlie was juggling baked potatoes wrapped in tin foil that he had pulled from the coals.

“The potatoes are ready.”

Gladys smiled, “Let’s wait a little longer for the children.”

**

The children were engaged in the most ancient of adult games.

The dull throb of pain that had been T’Pol’s constant companion for two months had been replaced by the sharp throb of desire. Relief from the pain was only temporary, but the desire, she knew, would be with her until she died.

Her husband had transferred his tender ministrations from her leg to her belly. With his tongue he teased her navel. He nipped her flesh with his teeth sending shockwaves coursing through her body. Parting the robe, he nibbled his way to her right breast, which he alternately sucked and laved. She writhed with anticipation to the gentle rhythm he maintained.

“Not this time, T’Pol.” She quivered as he whispered hoarsely. “This time I lead.”

**

The song of the cicadas was strong enough to drown out the cries of pleasure once again emanating from the guest wing.

“I was prepared to dislike her.” Darkness hid her blush of embarrassment.

Charlie sipped his wine before answering, “She expected to be rejected.”

“Do you think Trip believed we would not support his choice?” Gladys waited for her husband to respond. His silence answered for him and she was ashamed.

**

He had aroused her as thoroughly as he conducted an engine diagnostic. She was defenceless against his assault. Every inch of skin tingled. Her inner core was tight with unresolved tension. Her heart pounded and her fingers crumpled the coverlet. His five o’clock shadow left a burning trail as he slid his chin down her breastplate across her stomach to her the moist heat of her womanhood. She cried out when his lips and tongue flicked the flesh between her legs.

“T’Pol, sweetheart, you gotta remember to breath.” He let the suggestion drift slowly along their psychic connection. “That’s it. Take long deep breaths. Come on, I promise, if you control your breathing, you’ll feel better.”

As T’Pol began to breathe in time to the song of the cicadas, she draped her left leg over his shoulder, an invitation to take possession.

**

Charlie put a steak on the grill and listened to the sizzle. “She is not like the others, you know, Gladys.”

Gladys, putting the finishing touches on the table, paused. “You are right, she loves him.”

**

“Let it go, honey. Don’t hold back.” T’Pol arched her back. “That’s it. Push, babe.” He thrust forward. She pushed back. “I’ll catch you if you fall.” Her breath caught in her throat then she shuddered repeatedly. In his head it felt as if she were shattering into a thousand pieces over and over again.

**

“Dad, is that your world famous barbecued salmon I’ve been smelling, all the way down from the house?”

Gladys turned her head in the direction of her son’s voice.

“Sure is, boy.” Charlie was pleased that he remembered.

“You won’t be offended if T’Pol passes on the salmon, would ya?” Trip walked out of the darkness into the pools of light cast by the lanterns hanging from tree branches.

Charlie was so surprised by the sight of his son carrying his wife in his arms that he forgot to answer. Gladys covered for him, “You told us T’Pol was a vegetarian the very first time you mentioned her in a letter.”

“That musta been three years ago, now,” recalled his father.

Trip gently placed his wife in a lounge chair then draped a blanket over her legs. Trip explained, “Phlox told her not to walk for a few hours after the massage.”

“Are you sure Doc Phlox didn’t say T’Pol should refrain from all vigorous activity?”

Trip flushed not in response to his father’s teasing, but the promise of renewed vigorous activity later in the evening that T’Pol projected telepathically.

Gladys sat in the chair next to her daughter-in-law. “We knew you were special the first time he wrote about you.” Gladys patted T’Pol’s hand.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “What could Trip have possible written to make such an impression?”

Charlie answered for Gladys. “This is an exact quote - If she weren’t so darn argumentative and stubborn, I’d ask her to marry me tomorrow.”

“Welcome to the family, daughter.” Gladys squeezed T’Pol’s hand. T’Pol squeezed back.

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Planning on doing another sequel? I'd just love to see more! Great story and I very much enjoyed Trip's parents and that quote at the end! That was hilarious. Sounds like something Trip would say about T'Pol!!!!

This was brilliant, I really loved the way Trip and T'Pol interacted and so nice to have his parents accept her into the family. But damn, I'm going to have to get me some telepathy! Ali D :~)

Thank-you! Wonderful sequel! You should make it a series of vingettes. Looking foward to more.

What they said. Loved it!!!

Yep, another one for the 'I loved it' category. Really sweet, but not overly so. Great job.

I'm also looking forward to more!

Loved it. Brilliantly written and incredibly creative. Definitely warrents a sequel. Please....

Great Fic! A bit of Smutt, a Bit of good Tucker family time, T'pol being accepted in to the Family. And I agree Sequels are always a good thing.

This is nice, thank god for fanfic since it seems that the TPTB are going to totally destroy the show witht he last episode if the spoilers are true.

Ahhh, that was nice.... yeah i thought that was wekk sweet. Good moments from all. It would be nice to see trips folks on the show. Lets hope if we get it back they will huh.

Nothing beats bonded sex ;)!