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Vulcan for Intimate - ch. 6

Author - John O.
Fan Fiction Main Page | Stories sorted by title, author, genre, and rating

Vulcan for ‘Intimate’

By John O.

Rating: R - Sexual Content
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans’ souls/etc. No copyright infringement is intended nor profit gained. Only the chix.

Chapter 6


Day 45

The next morning, Tucker awoke with a growling stomach. T’Pol was gone. Probably meditating, Tucker thought. As he dressed and walked the beach, he found her nowhere in sight. He was hardly alone, however. A slur of powerful and curiously vivid memories kept him constant company from the moment his eyes fluttered open. He had a lustful attraction for T’Pol the moment he saw her in decon for the first time and much more after their first argument - but never did he imagine those wild dreams crashing head-on with reality. He had been with a healthy number of women before, just none anything like T'Pol. Princess Kaaitama had been the most recent and one of the more tantalizing women to share his bed but none had ever aroused him so completely that sexual excitement didn’t even begin to describe it. Last night, he recalled, it was as if she irradiated him with her most basic desires and ignited his whole mind and body like a leaky plasma conduit and then BOOM.

He shook his head, dazed for a moment with all-too-lucid recollection. The undeniable physical evidence straining the Commander’s jumpsuit turned his cheeks pink. He urged his mind to wander, to give his male reaction a chance to rest after the previous night’s Olympic decathalon.

The morning was warm so he wore only his blue undershirt and the shortened uniform, chopped off at the knees. As the weather began warming up, the full pant legs of his uniform simply didn’t fit the climate. He walked down the beach but did not find T’Pol meditating near her usual spot. Growing slightly concerned but mostly curious, he turned and headed instead for the shuttlepod crash-site, or what was left of it. He kept thinking about T’Pol and the way she lost it when they became intimate the night before. He wondered if it had something to do with Vulcans' supposedly sparse mating habits. Something about sex every seven years? She sure as hell acted like it'd been seven years. Maybe it gets pent up all that time. He couldn’t believe he was still talking about Vulcans doing this but the memory was clear. T'Pol was... Jesus! There wasn't a word for T'Pol last night!

Trouncing through the underbrush in search of T’Pol, he realized he was trying to rationalize T'Pol's behavior but it was pure guessing. He knew close to nothing about Vulcan relationships, and doubted anyone did. He frowned in frustration. There were so many questions for T’Pol to answer, and he knew that was exactly what drove her over the edge during their confrontation on the beach. It was no secret between them that she wasn't a fan of confronting feelings and emotions. At some point, Trip thought, she would have to learn how if they were going to… and suddenly he was confronted with a whole other problem. Goin’ to what?

He stopped and put his hands on his hips, looking around as if the argument going on in his head was in fact going on right in front of him. Goin’ to be together? Being alone on a deserted planet sure complicates things, what if it doesn’t work out? What are we gonna’ do, avoid each other for the rest of our lives? He couldn’t deny that this was going to be rocky, but he couldn’t just turn away from it, act like it never happened, go back to Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol, two officers trapped on a deserted planet. He couldn’t go back to that. He wouldn’t.

T’Pol was… well, he couldn’t even define what she was. She was brilliant and meticulous about her work, and even kind and funny in her own way. She was curious and clever, patient but all the while firmly set in her convictions. And now he found she was capable of passion on levels he hadn’t dare dream. Not the same as human passion, no doubt about that, he admitted. How he would deal with years of locked up feelings in between explosions like last night, he wasn't sure. But she had her feelings and despite the walls that had to come crumbling down for it to happen, she expressed them. Does she ever…

She’s… the woman I’ve never known I always wanted. With a few quirks, he confessed. He certainly never thought he would find her. Least of all in a Vulcan, he chuckled. She's just so damn thick skinned all the time...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no sign of T’Pol at the crash-site and Tucker was starting to worry. He headed back for the shelter and started to wonder what to say to her once he found her. Should I bring it up, or let her? He wondered if he put the ball in her court, would she play it or simply forget the whole thing ever happened?

and what happens then, just forget about it?

As he walked, he had time to consider all the questions he had, and realized that T’Pol probably had a lot on her mind as well. He was pretty sure that interrogating her probably wasn’t a good idea. He brooded over it all afternoon with no decision. Over lunch, she sat across the fire and paid attention only to her meal. He met her eyes only once or twice, but was sure there were words there, if not spoken directly. He would give her time to decide how she wanted to deal with how she felt if she does feel anything, and will own up to it, Trip thought worriedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the lotus position, T’Pol silently faced the sea as Tucker walked up from behind near evening. He stopped several paces behind her, watching as she stared off into the distance, somehow aware that she was no longer meditating alone. A calm breeze blew in from the ocean.

“Nice night,” he offered, squatting beside her. "Sky fulla' stars, warm air, ocean breeze..." he trailed off.

She turned to face him momentarily, sparing a few moments to look on the man of whom she now had intimate knowledge.

"...Beautiful company."

She looked back to the sea just as a particularly energetic tide rolled in and reached the edges of her bare feet. She drew them closer to her, as if for fear she would be washed away.

“Ya know you’d be a little more comfortable in lighter clothes, you could trim up that uniform,” he nodded at the full length uniform she still wore, minus boots. His voice hollow, unusual, and T’Pol blinked as she lost herself in thought.

“My present uniform is sufficient,” she replied mechanically. Her eyes darted sideways.

“Besides, it appears that your tailoring skills leave much to be desired,” she slighted him teasingly. She daringly baited Tucker and was rewarded with a bright grin as he chuckled at the unexpected joke. He fingered the irregularly torn tatters of his pant legs around the knee-level. A bit of anxiety melted away as he laughed, unknowingly under her steady gaze. He tossed sand about at his feet and leaned back on his palms. The ocean lapped at them once again and Tucker enjoyed the cool water running up his legs. He thought, for a moment, that if he stared far enough up at the stars and listened only to the slosh of the ocean, he might once again find himself on the friendly Gulf-coast shores. His fantasy encountered two problems: the stars were unfamiliar and alien, and secondly; he didn't want to part with his company.

But maybe take her to the beach sometime...

In that moment he turned to see T’Pol watching him, her head turned only slightly to the side. She looked away but not before taking in a final gaze of the man, unsure of where the next sea-born breeze would blow her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 46

The sun was quickly setting as it did every night, when Trip came jogging up the shoreline with a grin ear to ear. In one hand he held a thick-wooded rod fashioned into a fly pole with a long string dangling at the end. Tossing and flopping about on the end was an impressively large fish, nearly half a meter in length and six or seven centimeters wide. The fish was heavy and the sloshing of its weight caused Tucker’s run to bob side-to-side as he approached, comically struggling to keep his balance. A human woman might have mimicked his proud smile and laughed at his amusing entrance, however, T’Pol simply looked up from her notes and raised an eyebrow.

“I told ‘ya it’d work!” Tucker proclaimed proudly as he bounded up, gaining his balance as the fish finally expired, lying still on the end of the string. He sighed proudly and jaunted over to the supply crates. He returned with a large knife, taking his fish and his silly grin to a flat boulder sticking out of the sand only a few meters from their camp. To T’Pol’s surprise and revulsion, Tucker wasted no time and immediately tore into skinning, beheading and cleaning the fish. T’Pol turned away with smug disgust and made a point to breathe through her mouth.

“It would be unfortunate if that creature contained a hose of harmful toxins,” T’Pol mused aloud, looking up for an instant before returning to the electronic notes in front of her. She punched away at the Vulcan device while Trip looked up suddenly.

“You told me that thing says it’s safe to eat the fish,” Trip reminded her with lifted eyebrows. He threw his hands on his hips, and T’Pol looked up from her work briefly. She gave him a sparing nod, one intended to be brief and even a little curt, until she noticed for the first time he had returned from his fishing excursion bare-chested. The setting sun, at a right angle to Trip’s shirtless physique cast an orange glow across his face and pockets of shadow between his ruddy muscles, still shining with droplets of sea water. T’Pol nearly cursed Surak in a moment of unforgivable rapture delivered solely by the shocking sight. She gripped the tricorder unintentionally, nearly damaging it. She blinked and once again washed away the-- albeit enjoyable but most certainly un-acc-ept-able-- bout of arousal. The syllables, no matter how well annunciated in her mind felt no truer.

”Indeed. Vulcans are quite thorough and accurate. However, since we have evolved beyond devouring the flesh of other animals, assuring the safety of consuming the local marine life was likely not a priority of the survey mission,” she quipped, being sure to avoid looking back up at him as he inevitably smiled in return.

“Very funny,” he smirked, slashing into the fish with his blade. He sawed through the alien fish, amazed at how similar its insides looked to Small-Mouth Bass.

“Well if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Vulcans,” Trip mused, lowering his voice as if addressing the mangled fish. He paused, waiting to be sure he had her attention before continuing. Her eyes rose only slightly.

“It’s that you pay painstaking attention to detail. Damned annoying at times,” he mumbled into the wind, quite sure T’Pol would hear him. “I’m sure everything will turn out fine,” he replied aloud, looking up to stare T’Pol in the face. A smile crept into his features, illuminated by the setting sun as a parting orange ray streaked across his eyes, lighting them up.

“I’ll just have ‘ta take mah’ chances I guess,” he drawled, markedly trailing off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 47 - 0315 AM

The water lapped quietly against the bronze flesh that glowed under the empty sky. T’Pol sat on the beach a good distance from their shelter, near enough to feel the ocean tickle her toes. Legs tucked into her chest, she clutched them as if for dear life while feeling the tides within her much more powerfully. She watched the horizon quietly, rays of some strange phenomena dancing in the upper atmosphere, creating flourishing spirals of light that flattened and stretched like meteorites as they disappeared over the horizon. Their light was pale, and lit across the landscape like moonlight. As if she looked up from the bottom of some endless fishbowl while the Gods traced ripples in its surface, tinges of bluish-white light decorated the beaches for miles down the shore. Here and there the light crept up the curves of her body, rigid in form but flowing in spirit. The water slurped again, coolly rushing up past her toes.

She too, lapped the edges of an uncharted sea. The tempting images of a very nearby human companion painted a shoreline always out of reach, unending as it wrapped around her thoughts. Unending like the desire for his rolling caresses that teased her; unending like the torment each time she ebbed and then receded, more tempted each time to throw herself into the current and come ashore onto him. Fear made him a rocky shoal she had never dared land, but sparks of hope bubbled to the surface: chancing to believe in something more. She shivered, knowing that a powerful surge crept just behind these docile ebbs, ready to toss her wildly onto that forbidden territory.

Sharing physical conjugation two nights past brought her only to a jagged rock; from a distance deceptively alike to the safety and comfort of his true shores, but with none of its comfort. But lust, like the rock, only pricked her in return for gripping it so hard. She was staring across the slurping sea, but in her heart it was the shore that called out, as he did when he looked at her. Its invitation decried aloud and in a breath she accepted. A sigh of relief passed her quivering lips when finally, swiftly, but softly the surge picked her up and carried her back to the shelter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Day 47 - 0330 AM

The interior of the shelter was pitch black, the low slurp and rush of the ocean creeping in as the only sound to be heard. Trip slept deeply after great exertion to catch his supper and his immediately following excitement.

Within his dreams, a lonely feeling captured him and he was running for the only one he knew could change that feeling… until she squeezed his shoulder.

“Commander.” He didn’t budge.

“Commander,” T’Pol echoed, louder this time. Covered in her part of the blankets, gray undershorts and tank underneath, she moved closer to Commander Tucker and leaned up to get a better angle of his face, which was turned away from her.

“Commander Tucker, please wake up,” she spoke aloud finally, in a very official Vulcan tone, betrayed only by the sweat along her brow.

“Wha-huh!” Tucker shot up, snapping about in panic, awoken suddenly from the unpleasant dream. The darkness was total but he knew that just a few inches in front of him was T’Pol’s face, though he could not see her. The familiar aroma of dry soap and desert blossom wafted across his nose, along with a sweet tinge of her natural scent that was not at all displeasing. He never could understand how she managed to maintain such a wonderful smell after being in the jungle for seven weeks. He blinked rapidly as consciousness returned more fully. As his eyes adjusted, the firelight at the foot of their shelter cast an almost ethereal glow over T’Pol, painting her a portrait of pure beauty. He rubbed his eyes with a groan, hoping to dissuade whatever it was she wanted so he could go to back to sleep. He didn’t know how strongly he could resist touching her if his heart pounded much harder in his chest. The touch of fabric withholding soft flesh was painfully well recognized as T'Pol leaned closer, contacting his arm. Tucker’s pants suddenly tightened.

“Com- Trip,” T’Pol called again, moving closer. When his nickname came from her lips so soft and slow, it was like music to a deaf man. He forgot about sleep and dropped his hands from his eyes. Daring to look at her, he saw long brown hair falling sloppily around her shoulders, crowning her natural beauty and diluting any Vulcan austerity. Her neckline shone with tiny droplets of moisture, her lips slightly parted and her eyes resting heavily on his.

She sat up, opposite the direction of his body, her legs tucked beneath her as she faced him.

“T’Pol?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking. He moved towards her. Her eyes dilated and widened as he came close enough to make out the unblinking orbs, a shock of blue against the monochromatic blackness around them. Their faces were only inches apart. Each sat up, taking anxious care not to touch the other while a powerful charge built between them like live wires, begging to reach out and arc to the other.

“I have been…” T’Pol swallowed and Trip watched the knot in her throat move as her voice broke.

“…considering our situation.” Trip blinked, awakening further as each synapse twitched with electrical impulses.

She looked away, formulating her next words carefully as she always did.

“It is reasonable to assume Enterprise will not return for us, given they likely know nothing of our existence,” she stated rather flatly, pausing for him to agree. He nodded, swallowing a knot down his throat as the extreme proximity brought the breath of her words into his own lips.

“And it is also reasonable to assume our chances of escape on our own are very slim,” she added in a quiet whisper. Trip’s face softened and he chewed his lip.

“Mmhm,” he responded comfortingly. “So?” he asked. She felt his breath in return, quivering slightly.

She blinked, looking down at herself quietly. She pulled the blanket from her legs slowly, as if suddenly shy and inexperienced. She laid a hand on his chest and pushed him down with little force. Trip responded willfully, laying his head back onto the mat. She straddled him slowly, reaching above her head to remove the gray tank and freeing her breasts into the cool air. She blocked the low firelight from Tucker’s view, backlighting her naked form in orange and yellow hues. The hot rush shot through his spine, tingling at the base of his brain until he shivered involuntarily and instinctively sat up. When he did her body came into contact with his like a hot plate against his chest. Her skin was smooth and his tickled her hairless body teasingly. Running his hands from her hips to her breasts, he paused when she moaned quietly. His fingers continued up to her clavicle, around her shoulders and finally into the small of her back as she arched to bring her naked upper body hard against his. They were silent for several moments as her hands ran up and down his chest and he explored her body. Her fingers gripped his hard shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist and up to her shoulders, pulling her closer. They came nose to nose in the darkness of the night, seeing each other for the first time through closed eyes; under the stars of an unnamed world, casting away shame and doubt to explore forbidden territory. She held the silent embrace interminably, but finally spoke just above a whisper.

“I no longer believe it is logical to continue calling you ‘Commander’.”

Trip chuckled aloud and she savored the smile the lingered. He took her mouth in his just as the corners of her lips began to curve. This time he took the initiative, boldly pushing his kiss into her before moving to her neckline, her breasts and anywhere he could reach. She threw her arms around his bare arms and pushed them across his skin until she found his neck and his head and held them against her. He wanted to touch and taste every part of her that ached in his memory and danced in his fantasies since the night she dared to call him a “Friend”.

She wrapped her arms about his sides, taking in every warm muscle and crevice, sending wave after wave of touch telepathy to unknown centers in his brain. In agreement with her unspoken request for assistance, he reached behind her when she rose from his lap and slowly withdrew the gray undershorts. The material came off in his fingers and he tossed it aside. She returned to his lap, pulling his bottoms off in kind. She reached for his face, cradling his cheeks at special points, instinctively moving there without thought. In one swift motion she fell into his kiss once again with nothing between them but the night. She fell onto him, moved with him and into him and spilled around him like liquid flame that burned lukewarm with their love combined instead of white hot fire. He made love to her the rest of the long night with passion in his embrace and gentleness in his kiss and his touch. As she rocked with one seizing shiver of pleasure, she cried aloud to the starry night that she had chosen her t’hy'la. Heaving and sweating as he pulled her to a final kiss, they collapsed on the sand with her in his arms. He may not have understood the shaky Vulcan utterance she whispered to his ear, but he was sure it must be Vulcan for something intimate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Chapter 7

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Perfect.

what can i say wonderful, i'm speechless

OMG. How incredibly beautiful. Your metaphorical passage comparing her emotions to the ebb and flow of the sea... your descriptions of each of them backlit by the setting sun... they're indescribably compelling. Jeez, John. Are you sure you're a guy? I though only a woman could write this kind of story. I guess you've proven me wrong. There's obviously at least one true male romantic in the universe, and you're him. Whew. Okay, I can breathe again. Marvelous job. : )

Excellent !!!! More soon please.

Wow. I absolutely loved that. It stirs the emotions, most defintely. Obviously, you've taken the time to really observe and appreciate some of the beauty of nature.

Loved these lines.

"As if she looked up from the bottom of some endless fishbowl while the Gods traced ripples in its surface, tinges of bluish-white light decorated the beaches for miles down the shore. Here and there the light crept up the curves of her body, rigid in form but flowing in spirit."

What a thing of beauty. Do you write poetry by any chance? We need more male romantics in this world. Lovely scene with Trip and T'Pol at the end too. Just perfect. Wonderful job!

Absolutely brilliant, is all I can say. I bow down to your immense writing prowess, I especially like using the weather as metaphor for their feelings, without actually saying it, that takes true skill: 'pathetic fallacy,' if I'm correct. Although this sounds like the end please continue with this, because I would love to see how they both cope in the real world. Again, simply brilliant

@imzadi:I AM the one who is speechless! I'm so glad for such a warm reception...

@Distracted: Hehe, I am most assuredly a man :D

@Arch: this is DEFINITELY not the end ;)

@bether: A lot of times I find there is no more beautiful writing than honesty and I try to paint certain things as I see them :)

thank you all!

PS: I dabble in poetry... was something I did before I tried my hand at fiction for the first time last year when I started your mom n me. There is a poem in the future for Vulcan For Intimate :)

Btw bether i just had to mention... inspiration is such a funny thing... Much of this chapter has been written for a month or more, but that "fishbowl" imagery you loved ( and I did! ) came to me not 5 minutes before I submitted last night. dubya tee eff! lol

Hmmmm...verra nice! Can't wait to read more!

Beautifully written, John. Glad the Muse is talking to you ... send her my way if you get the chance.

Does anyone else feel like our little cadre of writers here reminds them of the DS9-cast's alter-ego sci fi writer characters in 'Far Beyond the Stars'? Haha, I totally feel like that all the time. Rigil is like... O'Brien's character LOL. Anybody wanna say Mitchell would be... Martok? =D. Eh...maybe switch Rigil and Mitchell, Rig always does the war stories hehe.

I think Distracted would be Kira... the HOT one 8-]

Very nice! I'm eagerly waiting to read more. Please!

I'm not entirely sure if that's a compliment or not, John, as I never watched DS9 all that much (the 24th century bores me.) And as to me always doing the war stories, that's not true: right now, I'm not writing much of anything... :-(

Oh it's a compliment! Well..it's not so much a compliment or NOT a compliment :? hehe.

But dude. Omg. DS9... You got to. Especially for WAR! The Dominion War...are you KIDDING? You know the old George Carlin joke "Where else are you going to see a 23 car pileup and not be IN the sonofabitch?" Well DS9:

"When else are you going to see a single interstellar engagement involving over 1200 Dominion, Romulan, Starfleet, Klingon, Cardassian AND Breen warships?!?" SEriously. OMG. :)

Wowzers...all ability at thought left me after I read that. It was amazing! I can't agree with what's everybody said more, the imagery and the metaphors and just the language was mind blowing. I don't think I've ever enjoyed reading something for the sheer language as much. Can't wait for the next part.

Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet. ;)

Beautiful, wanna read more. :)

John, I think you might've just made Distracted's day, LOL! :)

BTW, that's "definitely", not "defintely" in my comments. I'm such a pathetic typist.

Seriously though, as far as the story goes, this is the way I wish I could write. It awakens the senses. Thanks again and keep writing! :)

Oops! That's me above. Stupid forgot to type in her name. I'll stop clogging your comment thread now, I promise.

"I think Distracted would be Kira... the HOT one 8-]"

Ummm. John? You do realize that when I was your age, you were nothing but a twinkle in your parents' eyes, don't you? ; )

Thank you, dear. You're very gallant. : D

Great story.

John, next time, don't forget to mention that great tatoo Trip supposedly has. (According to another one of your stories.) I can't forget it! That story was poetry too.