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Like a Phoenix from the Fire (Plot #10)
Author - Aquila | Genre - Angst | Genre - Season 3.5 Story | L | Main Story | Rating - R
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SEASON 3.5 – SUMMER FANFICTION CHALLENGE
Like a Phoenix from the Fire
Category of the plot summary from the list below – Plot #10
Disclaimer: All things Trek, even Enterprise – the prequel, are Paramount’s – my passion for Trip and T’Pol, well that’s mine :^).
A short summary statement:
The distinct blue of the PADD disappeared when she depressed the off key, leaving the room bathed in the natural light of a February afternoon on the Easter Ross seaboard. She looked out the many-paned window at the grey firth rolling into shore under a crisp blue sky studded with scudding clouds. A dusting of snow had settled between the rows of the tilled fields and amongst the stones and pebbles on the beach.
Around her shoulders she had wrapped a shawl, hand-knitted by a local artisan from wool shorn from sheep raised on the land that surrounded the inn, isolating it from its neighbours and the 22nd Century. A tartan rug was tucked over her legs that were uncharacteristically attired in a calf-length skirt. Jumpsuits and trousers were more practical, but skirts had other advantages that she had come to appreciate.
Her skin puckered, not from the chill in the air, but the memory of his hands under her skirt hidden by the tablecloth stroking her bare thighs preparing her for their after luncheon sport. Anticipation was a pleasurable emotion that she had learned under his tender and imaginative tutelage.
Just yesterday they had stood sandwiched together on the deck overlooking Loch Ness, admiring the view and speculating why the legend of the monster still captured the imagination of tourists. The uncertain February weather meant that they were outnumbered by visitor centre staff five to one and could stand on the deck unmolested by the curious eager to shake their hands and thank them for their part in the salvation of the universe.
He had rearranged his sheep skin overcoat about his shoulders, opening it to surround her to protect her from the north wind or she thought. His hands had slipped around her waist one resting on her tummy gently pressing her into his groin, the other he had inserted under the overlap of her kilt. His fingers unerringly found the nub of nerves between her legs, which he began to stimulate.
His right cheek rested against her left. To observers they looked like the lovers they were cuddling and enjoying the view. The words he crooned were accompanied by small puffs of vapour created when his warm breath encountered the cool winter air.
“Explore the sensations, hon,” was underscored by slight stubble rubbing her cheek. “Taste the wind. Feel your soft curves against my hard lines. Notice the wool rubbing against your skin and the heat and moisture that my finger is generating.”
“That’s it,” he placed a kiss on her cheek, “There’s no one here, we’re all alone, just the three of us, you, me and desire.”
He slowed the rhythm down, having grown to know her body as well as he knew his own. “Breathe deep, that’ll help you manage the feelings. Slowly now, with me.”
She had watched with fascination as they exhaled slowly having held the breath for a count of three. The steam they created erotically twisting about and becoming one. Do we look like that when we are writhing in our bed, she had wondered?
She had been so lost in the sensations that she had failed to hear the door to the deck swing open. He had not. Protecting her from prying eyes had become habit since they had returned to Earth. With one final flick of his finger he removed his hand and sent her over the edge. Once again they were just a pair of lovers enjoying a view, while she struggled to contain the shudders that convulsed her body.
“What did Phlox have to say, T’Pol,” was muffled by the towel with which he was rubbing his damp hair?
Except for the towel he was gloriously naked. His fair skin was in stark contrast to the deep red of the tartan wallpaper. The sharp winter light heightened the contours of his body, emphasising the expanse of chest on which she pillowed her head every night.
Emotions she had not yet learned to name swelled and spilled over. Seeing her distress, he tossed aside the towel and strode over to sweep her into his arms.
“The do not disturb sign is still in place, darling,” He devoured her mouth then released her, “They are not serving tea for quite sometime. Let’s go back to bed. We can talk about what you’re experiencing while I make us both feel a whole lot better.”
T’Pol snoozing was nestled against his left side. He had pulled the duvet over their damp bodies to keep the chill air at bay. Through the window gulls circled in the sky. The tide must have turned he surmised as one swooped down out of sight in search of carrion exposed on the shore. In his hand he held a glass of single malt. He had acquired a taste for the beverage since arriving in Scotland.
Their original plan was to explore the south of France and the Lake District of Italy. After one night of unwanted attention they decided to slip away to an off-season holiday spot with discreet staff and a cultured kitchen. Three years of chef’s cooking had developed Trip’s palate to such an extent that nothing but the best would satisfy him. But where to go? The officers and crew of Enterprise were arguably the most recognized figures on the planet since their triumphant return from the Expanse.
He had been sitting on a barstool in the main lounge of the French luxury inn that he and T’Pol had chosen for their first night together as a committed pair. The evening had not been a success. T’Pol had found the stares of strangers distressing. She had had difficulty maintaining her composure. Fearful that he would misinterpret her request as rejection of him, she had asked him to leave her alone to meditate before joining her in bed.
She understood loving sacrifice when he replied, “Sure baby, I’ll slip down to the bar for a night cap.”
She knew he had wanted to touch her, but held back, intuitively.
“I will make this up to you. I promise.”
“We have the rest of my life,” he wryly pointed out. “I can wait.”
The bartender used to waiting on celebrities was well aware of the notoriety of his guest, which was due as much to his heroics as his choice of travelling companion. Gossip columns from London to Jupiter headlined the news that Enterprise’s First Officer and Chief Engineer were an inseparable item.
“What’s this I’m drinking,” asked Trip pointing to the glass? The bartender had poured and presented the drink before Trip had had a chance to order.
He presented Trip with the bottle. The label was a line drawing of a two storey, el shaped building, rather plain with a high sloping roof and three chimneys. It appeared to be far from anywhere.
“Wouldn’t I like to find a place like that to spend a few weeks,” Trip had declared to the man behind the bar.
The bartender picked up a vid phone and punched some keys. A few seconds later, a smiling face was peering in shock at the pixelated visage of Commander Charles Tucker III.
The bartender explained. “Alex manages an exclusive inn located in the Scottish Highlands. This inn as a matter of fact,” he said pointing to the bottle.
Trip and T’Pol flew to Inverness the next morning.
A knock at the door broke Trip’s reverie. He arranged the duvet to cover T’Pol as discreetly as possible, slipped out from under the covers and drew on a terry robe. He tied it as he moved toward the door.
“Sorry to disturb you sir.” Geordie had become accustomed to finding the Starfleet officer in his bathrobe at odd times of the day. “Ms. Alex wanted you to know that there will be other guests at dinner tonight.”
“Then have some champagne on ice to offer our new companions when we gather for cocktails, please.” Trip smiled. “But Geordie, don’t tell them who we are. Let that be a surprise, please.”
Geordie grinned, “Ms. Alex has already passed the word, Commander.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
Trip could not believe that she had uttered the sentence. “When did you start worrying about what to wear?”
“When I finally understood the degree of scrutiny we would be under,” she spat tossing another piece of clothing on the floor. “The entire population of Earth thinks that you have been foolish in your choice of partner.”
“And what you wear to dinner tonight is going to change the opinion of a world of gossips and mean spirits?” For a brief moment Trip longed for the return of logical T’Pol. “Why don’t I choose for you, then you have me to blame if you overhear something rude?”
T’Pol glared, but was surprised to see that he was sincere in his offer. “You would be willing to do that?”
“I got to start some time. After all, isn’t my job to buy you beautiful things now that we’re permanently whatever we are? Helpin’ you dress will make sure you don’t have to return everything I choose.” Experience had taught him that buying clothes for beloved females was a risky undertaking that could end in many nights of sleeping on the couch.
T’Pol twirled in front of the mirror. “Are you certain?”
The robe of red talaxian silk fell from a body hugging bodice to an ankle skimming hem, with a slit that rose to mid thigh on the left that would expose her long shapely legs when she sat. The v-neck was wide enough to provide tantalizing glimpses of the round globes of her breasts when she moved. Some whimsy had made her choose to have the robe constructed with a long left sleeve, but no right.
Trip standing behind her told her to close her eyes.
She heard muttering, zippers opening and closing and ouch as a something snapped.
“Keep your eyes closed,” was followed by something cool and metallic sliding up her bare arm. “No…keep them closed.”
She shivered as another cool piece of metal fell around her neck.
“Steady,” he said. “Now open your eyes.”
“They are exquisite.”
She ran her hand over the sliver arm band that circled her bicep. A pair of calla lily blossoms met but did not touch, one turned up, the other down. Another pair of lilies circled her neck, ending in an intricate serpentine that pointed downward.
“They were Lizzie’s,” he whispered in her ear, “I gave them to her for her 21st birthday. She had stored them in my parent’s safety deposit box. Mother gave them back to me the day I came home.”
T’Pol turned into his arms, placing her hand on his cheek. “Are you certain that you want me to wear them?”
“I want you to have them.”
End of Part 1
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A whole mess of folks have made comments
I'm so enjoying this, very beautifully written, a lot of thought has obviously gone into this piece, please do continue, I can't wait to read more......
I can appreciate the imagery you're going for with this opening part. Part 1 is definitely a beautiful set-up. Of course, that leads me to think it can only downhill from here. =(
I know it's labelled ANGST, but I'm always hoping for a happy ending. Definitely keep going. =)
All I can say is... uh oh!
Oh my. Oh wow..... oh yes!!!
Oh that was so pretty! But I have to keep remembering that little word "angst" and the fact that this is gonna be a real ep and not JUST yummy Trip and T'Pol.
That summary is already making me sad sad sad.
I wonder who their new guests are?
That was *most* beautiful! The descriptions, the details the characterizations - wow! I´m looking forward to the next parts.
And yes, the label "Angst" scares me too...
Dare I chime in too! Angst - no angst - it's summer! I vote for her turning down the choice to go back to the way it was. Heartbreak is just too much!
Excellent work. The imagery, the thought-fabulous. Too bad this is angst, although I can almost see the tendrils.....
awesome!!! though im assuming that the controlling of her emotions (as u said) comes later... but i like the "emotional" t'pol!
Very nicely written! They seem so at ease with one another. However, I get the feeling you're going to take us on an emotional rollercoaster ride. Just be gentle :D
I love this side of Trip and T'pol - in love and exploring their relationship, getting to know one another. It's so tender and sweet - like they're on their honeymoon.
There's a big ole thunder cloud just over the horizon, isn't there? You've set it up so beautifully - I hate to think of the angst ahead for my favorite couple. As someone else said, please be gentle - I'm not sure I can take it!! :)
This is just such a beautiful piece. No angst, just a lovely time of Trip and T'Pol exploring themselves and each other. I really enjoyed it and can't wait for the next part.
Though I fear who the dinner guests are. ;)