Vulcan for Intimate - ch. 9

Vulcan for ‘Intimate’

Author: John O.
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Genre: Adventure/AU/Romance
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans’ souls/etc. No copyright infringement is intended nor profit gained. Only literary immortality.

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Chapter 9

“Commander!”

The dirt and mud-covered man lurched toward Commander Tucker and embraced him. Still in shock, Tucker stiffened instinctively and looked to T’Pol who quirked an eyebrow.

“Commander, Sub Commander, you’re alive!” he exclaimed, looking from one to the other.

“We could say the same for you!” Tucker joked jovially, smiling uneasily as the primitive looking man in front of him came into focus and Tucker again recognized the muddy Mueller as the young ensign he once new. His clothes were tattered and dirty, as were Tucker and T’Pol’s, but his looked as though they had seldom been cleaned or removed. His hair was long and raggedly unkempt, falling down to his shoulders and colored the same as the mud clinging between the strands.

“What happened to you after the crash, I guess you ended up… inland?” Trip asked timidly.

Trip chewed his lip uneasily and briefly met T’Pol’s warning gaze as the ensign hesitated. Gary began to explain. Trip sensed from her thoughts she was not completely convinced the ensign was harmless. Tucker hid his own apprehension well enough that T’Pol was at first concerned that he was too readily receiving the Mueller’s return.

Hoshi’s death at the end of a phase pistol was yet to be explained. If the ensign had indeed been responsible, whether of a sound or disturbed mind, it would be unwise of Trip to openly interrogate a disturbed man who may still be armed.

T’Pol squinted, focusing on her link to Tucker’s mind from across the fire as Mueller explained several key events of the past year of his survival. Tucker listened more than spoke, a piece of advice T’Pol had attempted to communicate to him telepathically. It was the first opportunity to test such ability and she was doubtful it would prove successful. However, as Tucker began to follow her silent suggestions – allowing Mueller to offer what information he wished and avoiding pointedly suspicious lines of questioning – she nearly allowed a smile of triumph. It stirred great satisfaction in her chest that welled up into a charge of affection through the bond that Trip felt acutely. For the first time it seemed that perhaps the vast chasm between Vulcan and Human may prove not so impassable.

She dutifully smoothed the upturned corners of her lips as Trip turned to her. As was her custom, she hid any outward trace of the happiness it gave her to realize the bond was just successfully tested. He turned an eye on T’Pol curiously when he felt her through the bond, but quickly returned his attention to the ensign who was busily telling stories of his survival.

When Gary was finished, the trio talked lightly of their theory on how they came to be here and what had happened to Lieutenant Reed. At T’Pol’s suggestion, Tucker fibbed that they had never found Hoshi’s body, but assumed she had perished in much the same manner. Mueller appeared to accept the news of their “duplicate” theory rather well, without the panic or hysteria T’Pol had worried might follow if he were not entirely mentally stable.

Tucker proceeded to explain he and T’Pol—he and the Sub Commander’s – plans to find and attempt to disable the device creating the gravitational distortion field around the planet.

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Day 503

Two days later, the newly reunited trio of the Enterprise crew trekked deep within the thick, muggy underbelly of the forest canopy near noon. Both Tucker and T’Pol were trying to keep an eye on Mueller’s behavior while not acting too suspiciously. Meanwhile, their own typical behavior had to be altered considerably.

Trip hadn’t realized just how confining the regulations of their lives aboard a starship had been. Only hours after Mueller had rejoined them, he immediately realized that intimacy was on hold at least until they could be sure there was no danger of being discovered by him. He was soon to discover, however, that T’Pol considered such indulgences absolutely out of the question no matter how far away Mueller seemed to be; and that the risk was too great. She argued that their only hope of maintaining control of their lives when they returned was to reveal their relationship on their own terms – if ever. Were Mueller to find out, once they returned and he were debriefed, the relationship between them was bound to come out, and the Vulcan High Command would surely remove her from the Enterprise immediately, to speak nothing of the humiliation of it being revealed through a Starfleet report. Tucker was relieved to hear her speak of how strongly she insisted upon continuing their relationship when they returned, and though he was not sure how they could ever be intimate as second and third command officers of a starship, he acceded that the argument was moot for the time being. Still, were they to escape the binds of their professional responsibilities, they would never change the way both Vulcans and Humans would spurn a mixed couple.

The next day, all day, and that evening, Tucker realized that he was so used to the most seemingly innocuous nuances between he and his beloved that were absolutely not acceptable in the company of a fellow officer. At least, that’s what T’Pol kept telling him. But the weight was bearing down on her as well. As effectively as she hid the outward craving for intimacy, every now and again Trip could feel a powerful shot of arousal through the bond. It seemed to T’Pol that perhaps the usually expended sexual drive she had grown used to expressing was now building up within her psyche and reaching out to touch her beloved’s libido telepathically.

She had grown unsuitably accustomed to his open affection and to the liberty of showing some of her own in return. The profoundly abandonment of even simple contact was profoundly unsettling to her. She had been satisfied with the balance attained before the return of Mueller, before the return of reality. She believed she had conquered the darker parts of herself and rationed out the fruits of their relationship, to sate an illogical Vulcan hunger once in awhile had seemed to be sufficient for both her sanity and her sense of worth as a Vulcan. Now she found it tremendously difficult to resist openly taking Tucker’s hand or sharing his bed. Had they really been so intimate that she had become addicted?

Day 505

How will I continue to function in Vulcan society with these feelings…she wondered inwardly as they moved further into the forest. Trip glanced over his shoulder at his beloved on cue and his image instantly bore itself into her subconscious. He appeared over her, naked, beaded with sweat and assaulting her with hot breath on the side of her neck as he buried his face into for one final-- She shook away the memory but barrages of similar erotic imagery made it difficult to refocus from the delusion to a more important matter.

On the previous night, Mueller went missing. They found him just a few hours later as he came limping back into camp with a torn uniform and blood oozing from an open wound. He was dazed looking and spoke little as T’Pol dutifully administered a first aid kit for which they had found little need since the Pon Farr episode had passed. She blinked away another potent memory, previously buried in her subconscious, resurfacing as she tended to the blood-soaked flesh.

While T’Pol bandaged his injury, Tucker looked intently at Mueller, whose eyes lay unfocused against the whole of the greenery that surrounded them. He seemed to be looking everywhere, and nowhere at once. Tucker eyed Mueller with hands on his hips and paced over dry mud.

“Where’d you go?” Tucker asked, trying to hide the interrogative tone in his voice. Gary’s catatonia continued for one long moment before Tucker opened his mouth to ask again. T’Pol felt his temper rising as she dabbed the man’s wounds with disinfectant, but before she could even turn to him a warning glint, Mueller turned.

“Uh, ahm, well, I was uh,” he stammered, blinking erratically as if being roused from a deep trance.

“I’m sorry, I was hunting this morning for breakfast when I tripped on a log and fell into a ditch. I hit my leg on a rock on the way down,” he explained, glancing at the Sub Commander dispiritedly.

“I never was the best at it,” he confessed, a bit of levity breaking the stone lines of his jaw. “My father hates guns, never let me hunt a thing in my life,” he laughed nervously. Trip returned T’Pol a doubtful frown as the man turned his back from him to give her access to the bruise on his neck.

“Then it is fortunate your skills have improved. To have survived so effectively only on the flesh of animals,” T’Pol remarked cunningly.

“I’m sorry, Sub Commander, I forget how offensive to you our eating habits can be,” he turned over his shoulder to Commander Tucker with a grin. Tucker’s frown lit up instantly as he forced a smile and nodded knowingly. He moved around the camp to look Mueller squarely in the eye.

“Hell, I wouldn’t touch that green shit, I told her,” he scoffed. T’Pol played along and turned a characteristically intrigued but disgusted eyebrow up along with her nose at the comment.

“I would not expect you to understand the habits of an enlightened species, Mr. Tucker,” T’Pol prodded him expertly. He almost laughed, then decided it would be appropriately in-character, so he indulged.

“Enlightened, my ass. You taste that crap, Gary? Tastes like someone’s old shoe,” he mumbled, kicking a clot of dirt up as he paced away, pretending to lose interest in the exchange while listening for Gary’s answer. The young ensign blinked unsurely as T’Pol finished up.

“Oh yeah, it’s disgusting, I tried it the first day, uhh… it didn’t agree with me if ya’ know what I mean,” he lauded with an anxious smile.

“Now uh, if I may be dismissed sirs, I think I left some of my things in the forest,” he said hurriedly.

“Sure, go get ‘em,” Trip responded as the man’s back disappeared behind a rustling of leaves. He turned on T’Pol ominously and they agreed silently.

“Somethin’s wrong,” Trip told her, taking the opportunity of the man’s absence to take the tiniest respite with T’Pol in his arms if only for a few moments. Her eyes softened as the tips of her fingers traced unknown notes of Vulcan music on his face. But she resisted the relief it gave her, pulling them to her side and resuming a stern and decisive countenance.

“I believe he is concealing something,” T’Pol announced finally, slipping back into an official posture. Tucker nodded.

“I agree,” he said, shaking his head. “But I haven’t a damn clue what it is,” he sighed.

“Have you seen the phase pistol?” T’Pol asked pointedly. Trip sagged onto a boulder and shook his head.

“Neither have I,” she responded.

“We should assume it is still in his possession,” she warned. “If we should locate the weapon, and the opportunity presents itself—“ she paused as Trip’s jaw snapped up beginning to object.

“We should take it,” Trip echoed the Vulcan’s forthcoming sentiments.

”Only then will it be safe to question him regarding Hoshi’s death.”

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“Commanders?”

“You’re dead! I had to… I had to!” Suddenly she appeared, and for an instant he was sure she would take him with her.

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Gary awoke in a cold sweat and found the world swirling about in a green blur. In the corner of the blurring madness was a distant voice, and a few moments later he connected it with the face looming over him. He focused on it, and the trees began to slow and suddenly he felt the ground under his feet. His muscles ached for want of rest, though he was sure it was late morning and he had just awakened. Commander Tucker’s disembodied face then revealed his body, the forest around him and a dispassionate but investigative pair of Vulcan eyes on him as well. They helped him to stand, but he rebuffed their concerns as he shuffled off to make breakfast.

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Day 507

“That’s the third time,” Trip warned as they each nibbled at the evening meal. The fire cracked and fizzled in response while T’Pol opted for a non-vocal response. She merely nodded around her canteen and let slip a dose of the apprehension through the bond that she felt in regard to Mueller’s behavior.

“Yeah,” Tucker muttered as he picked at a piece of meat and scowled at it.

“Me too,” he replied. A sense of intrigue filled T’Pol as her Vulcan eyes fluttered in curious contemplation and she lifted a high eyebrow. She was unsure how far Trip’s mental capacity could allow their telepathy to continue to advance. He clearly understood her thoughts and feelings almost as acutely as if she had spoken them into fully-formed words. Her mind wandered until a tickle at the base of her neck hailed the coming of Trip’s attention on her. Curious, she thought…perhaps it is his mind’s primitive way of unconsciously calling on its mate.

“You’re thinkin’,” Trip teased her, his lips parting into a minor smile. She nodded and wrapped the apprehension back up neatly into an isolated corner of her mind for future reflection.

“I am concerned that our fresh water supply may prove insufficient now,” she said, referring to the new presence of their lost crewman. While relieved to have found another survivor, the tension and uneasiness in the air when Mueller was around was undeniable. T’Pol sensed something disturbing when he was close but could not identify the source. Trip just plain didn’t trust him, and though T’Pol hardly put any stock in a human’s “gut feeling”, it was not without a bit of irony that she could not in fact logically justify her own anxiety around Mueller, save for the obvious suspicion of Hoshi’s death. But still, Vulcans did not experience illogical fright or, as humans had put it, “chills”. Somehow, Mueller’s presence seemed to defy the rules.

Perhaps Vulcans do get ‘gut’ feelings, she pondered. Or perhaps Tucker’s were simply rubbing off on to her. Due to her connection with Trip’s mind, she was aware of the sexual similarities to that euphemism, and it was a cold reminder of just how little intimate contact they had experienced since the ensign rejoined them. She pushed away the illogical urge to have Trip tonight, deciding to wait for the opportunity for a sufficiently private venue. Her attitude of abstinence had already given way to a compromised agreement with her flaring appetites, and she decided that indulging in private would be acceptable. They were, after all, bonded mates. It is only logical.

He took a mouthful of broth and nodded approvingly, tipping his spoon to T’Pol. She gazed back attentively, drawn from her reverie.

“This is damn good,” he said, surprised.

“I am pleased you enjoy it. It is my mother’s recipe for Plomeek broth. I am restricted to limited ingredients given our circumstances, of course,” she confessed. Trip froze wide-eyed with the spoon just on the edge of his lip.

“This is Plomeek soup?” Trip asked incredulously.

“Yes,” T’Pol answered with an eyebrow. “Are you surprised to find it agreeable?” she asked with an edge.

“Well… Yes!” He paused, turning his eyes down to meticulously spy the contents of the spoon.

“I just always thought it was…” T’Pol raised a challenging eyebrow as Tucker felt out an acceptable response. He mentally slapped himself as he realized that every uncouth reprisal of Vulcan cuisine that he considered but did not speak was undoubtedly being broadcasted across T’Pol’s mental loudspeaker anyway. He looked up to find her still drilling him with an inquisitive stare.

“Well, Vulcan food doesn’t have the greatest reputation. Most say it’s bitter,” he said. T’Pol finished her own broth and set the field utensil aside as she anxiously lifted the pot of leafy, green plants from their perch over the fire. She had encountered a new type of vegetation deep in the forest and was testing her creation on Trip.

She found the culinary art of experimentation to be quite fascinating, and personally fulfilling. For the past several months they had now been sustaining themselves on combinations of fruits and vegetables that the Vulcan survey had reported safe to eat. She even felt a little surprised at the revelation of an apparently hidden talent for developing a wide variety of meals out of Spartan ingredients, and Trip had often complimented her.

She pulled a small, firm stalk of a green plant from the steaming insides of the bowl, plucking at it with a pointed utensil and quickly dropping it onto Trip’s plate. He looked up in surprise. T’Pol sat back and watched him expectantly.

“You want me to go first, huh?” he asked with a laugh as a smile broke his lips.

“I once overheard a conversation between Chef and the other cooks in which I learned it is customary on Earth for the preparer to offer the first taste to another.” Trip chuckled in response. An eyebrow shot up immediately.

“I also learned that it is usually considered an offering only made to one entrusted not to insult the chef,” she informed him with an edge. He laughed loudly as he took the green stalk on a fork as steam rose from it. He placed it warily between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth. His face lightened.

“Wow-Ah!” he gaped as the steaming vegetable stung his palette. He swallowed it quickly to relieve the pain.

“Mmm,” he mumbled as his lips and tongue pulsed painfully.

“It’s delicious,” he exclaimed. “Just a little hot,” he chuckled. “We could really use some butter. It reminds me of my grandma’s steamed broccoli,” he said as he took another stalk from the pot and chewed on it.

“Reminds me of Thanksgiving,” he remarked quietly. T’Pol’s darted her eyes guiltily as she sensed homesickness through the bond. She was silent several moments before looking up to find a forgiving pair of blue eyes on her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered as he leaned forward to plant his lips on hers. A long and desperately desired kiss seemed to last until the evening light had faded, and then as it broke, vanquished the gap between their lips again with a dozen encores. They broke to find T’Pol’s back was against the ground with Trip over her, unknowingly having migrated from chaste kiss to missionary stretch. Trip got up and she followed, straightening a displaced lock of hair that fell across Trip’s face. She exhaled sharply and Trip frowned apologetically.

“Trust me, I know,” he agreed. “It’s really hard,” he confessed, sheepishly running a hand through his sun-stained golden hair.

“I suppose that’s one advantage to him disappearin’ at night for hours on end,” he mused. “Gives us a little privacy.”

“Perhaps. But without an assurance of when he will return, it is dangerous to…” she trailed off, but Trip got the idea. He nodded and they returned to the meal.

“It is also troublesome,” T’Pol added. Trip nodded with a frown as he leaned into a stump and tore a bite out of another stalk of T’Pol’s Island Broccoli.

“Tell me about it. Something’s going on with him. He’s not the same person I remember. He was never… reclusive like this,” Tucker muttered quietly.

T’Pol evenly distributed the remaining stalks from the pan, now cooler to the touch, between her own plate and his.

“Do you think it’ll be like this when we get back?” Tucker asked, changing the subject. T’Pol considered asserting that she had no idea what he meant, but in truth she was well aware he spoke of ‘us’.

“Assuming we get back,” T’Pol amended. “Our respective positions on Enterprise would require a degree of…”

“Secrecy.” Trip finished for her. She turned her head in his direction and swallowed the knot in her throat as she searched for the words.

“I was going to say ‘restraint’,” T’Pol said quietly. He squinted back at her and she flinched under the scrutiny, moving towards him.

“Do you mean, if we get back, we’re not going to be together? I thought…” he asked in disbelief. She looked up at him from a few inches away. His mouth hung open slightly and she resisted the urge to simply silence his concerns the most gratifying way her lips knew of.

“How can you say that after everything we’ve been through, after—“ but he was cut off when she touched fingers to his cheek and her forehead to his.

This is where I go in my mind…

“Before you speak, there is something else I want to show you.”

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Chapter 10

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

awesome! i love this story, especially since i haven't figured out how you are going to end it!

Wunderbar! I loved it, and I can't wait to see what happens next! :)

What a mystery and what a great story! This is a very interesting idea that you've developed in an amazing way. I have no clue how you're going to end it but I'm very much looking forward to it. Not only do you paint great situations, you write it with a talent and beauty which makes it fun just to read.

Excellent !! Can't wait for the next part. Soon Please !!

Oh very nice descriptions, you really now how to paint a picture. And I wanna see what she has to show him!

Curious how you're going to end this. Looking forward to the epilouge. Great chapter.

AAAAAAAAHHHH!!! Another mean cliffy! Please post again soon. I think this is my favourite story ever.

Hmmm. A pointy-eared Trip on Grampa's farm, and Grampa's girlfriend is T'Les, maybe? Curiouser and curiouser.

I should point out that at this point Trip hasn't met T'Les, and he recognized the woman. It's simpler than T'Les. ;)

Excellent chapter. Thanks for writing this.

I think I am pretty sure who that boy and woman are ;)

This is a wonderful story. I'm also enjoying your new Twist of Fate series. Great writing.

I know who the boy and the woman and the man are! :)
Your writing is very evocative, the moments are delightful, and you keep us wondering what next.

I've been enjoying this story from the start (though I've been bad about leaving reviews, sorry, John). I just wonder why neither of them seems to remember that if they're right about the duplicates of themselves making it back to Enterprise, the two who have been on the ship since the accident are unlikely to give up their positions for these two. Not that I think they'll decide to continue with Starfleet anyway if they do get rescued.

And I too know who the people are in that last scene... and I've got a pretty good guess what else T'Pol wants to show Trip... can't wait to see if I'm right.

Great job as always, John. :)