Received: from [66.218.67.199] by n34.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 22 Jun 2004 21:59:37 -0000 X-Sender: asc-l@ix.netcom.com X-Apparently-To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 13958 invoked from network); 22 Jun 2004 21:59:01 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.216) by m6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 22 Jun 2004 21:59:01 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mclean.mail.mindspring.net) (207.69.200.57) by mta1.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 22 Jun 2004 21:59:00 -0000 Received: from h-66-167-46-192.phlapafg.dynamic.covad.net ([66.167.46.192] helo=katiedell.ix.netcom.com) by mclean.mail.mindspring.net with esmtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1BctHg-0006uP-00 for ascem-s@yahoogroups.com; Tue, 22 Jun 2004 17:58:29 -0400 Message-Id: <5.2.1.1.2.20040622180350.03751470@popd.ix.netcom.com> X-Sender: asc-l@popd.ix.netcom.com X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Version 5.2.1 To: ascem-s@yahoogroups.com X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.69.200.57 From: ASC Archive Team MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Tue, 22 Jun 2004 18:04:09 -0400 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: ENT - Saddle Sore - (1/1) - T/Tu - PG-13, Het Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 Title : Saddle Sore Author: Sue E-Mail: susieqla@yahoo.com Website: None. Series: ENTERPRISE Pairing: T/Tu Category: Romance/Het. Rating: PG-13 Summary: A riding lesson of a different kind. Saddle Sore "Why did you squeeze my thigh?" Dreamily, Trip, clad only in blue Skivvies, and lying in her bed, responded, "When did I do that?" He hadn't bothered to glance back at T'Pol while she sat upon his muscular calves. He was learning to recognize that telling tone of mystification her voice took on when she was unable to work something out for herself, needing his input for clarification. "During the last movie night." Even though it had only been a few days ago, he couldn't quite remember what they'd seen. But, it had definitely been a first; she'd never sat with him before without his having to ask and being turned down. "What'd we see?" "'Seabiscuit.'" Expelling a drafty-sounding breath, Trip acknowledged, "Oh...yeah...that's right...'Seabiscuit.'" He got his cheek more comfy, lying upon his hands as it was, burrowing it further into his right hand. He rocked slightly from side to side to spur his masseuse on so she'd continue with the massage that was like balm. "Great picture, wasn't it?. A righteous animal, some racehorse, huh? Back in those terrible days of The Great Depression, folks pinned their hopes on that horse like he was some kind of metaphor for their survival. Seabee truly captured imaginations, the long shot that snagged America's heart. A true champ in horseflesh." Sighing wistfully, Trip romanticized, "Horsies have a unique nobility all their own...ya can't help but love 'em." T'Pol's tone took on an even more telling timbre. "Does this include the one you were forced to barter your harmonica for?" The awkward moments atop the mount she had had no option but to endure were still fresh in memory. With both hands, she dug with renewed determination, along with some latent irritation, perhaps, into the sore, tight muscles of Trip's upper thighs. He stifled a yelp he couldn't completely silence, and complained. "Easy, there. It's hard enough walkin' as it is without you addin' more pain to the misery I already got." "I'm sorry," T'Pol countered calmly, "it wasn't my intention to injure you further, Commander." Sounding a tad thoughtful, she said, "It would seem having more familiarity with riding your noble animals would be logical if a future circumstance calls for such expertise." "Hey, I didn't do all that bad, considerin' I've never had a real lesson," Trip objected, trying hard not to wince when T'Pol took another jab at his throbbing muscles. "Least I didn't fall off." He raised his head to lob a glare at her. "Didn't hear you complain, till now, that is." "I'm not complaining," T'Pol said with a tart ring to the words. "Sounds like it to me," Trip baited, but doing so gently, loving it when her delicious looking mouth all but quivered. He was the bone of playful contention, always ready, willing and able to see how far he could get her to flirt with her emotions. There was no conjecture over whether she had them or not. Aside from his already knowing she possessed them, the next step was nuturing her in a warm climate of camaraderie so she would feel more comfortable exercising them once and a while. "What accounts for your physical discomfort whereas I, who have never ridden one of your imagination-capturing beasts, am not experiencing what you are?" She had tried not sounding haughty, but it was an inherent quality. Trip wasn't taking her sudden outpouring of superiority lying down. Counting his timing off to the second, he bumped his legs up, startling T'Pol into upset. Nimbly, he flipped himself onto his back. She landed squarely in his crotch, his agile legs bent to prevent escape. But her precarious position lasted moments. His spirited chuckling filling the air, Trip, with his legs adding impetus she never saw coming, gave T'Pol a jump-starting sort of nudge to tilt her with hands first against his chest. "If you've never ridden a maverick before, darlin', here's your chance..." He waited, not daring to breathe, for her response. If she gave any of his vulnerable areas so openly exposed a swift kick, he'd tell her he deserved it, and have a perfect excuse to kiss and make up. Kissing the sultry first officer was an idea whose time had come. ...One fantasy at a time, Tucker, you dog...he cautioned. "A maverick?" she questioned with the perpetually endearing lift of her eyebrow, her face scant inches from the chief engineer's. "Another word for a real young animal, usually refers to a horse though, that gets separated from the herd; has to fend for itself, makes a true fighter out of it. The animal Wears nobody's brand, roamin' the range free, untamed..." "Or, an indivdual who refuses to abide by the dictates of, or resists adherence to a group...a dissenter," she dutifully rounded out for Trip's singular benefit. She would have been remiss, lying to herself, if she denied that being so close to his mouth was tantalizing. "I won't throw ya, if that's what you're thinkin'." Unable to stop himself, Trip brought his hand up to her cheek and his fingers roamed its warm softness. The effect she had on him smoldered in his eyes. In time, his fingers found their way to an earlobe and brushed them over it as if it were a showpiece worth some fantastic sum. If she had once had any doubt, she had it no longer; her ears held their own special fascination for him. "That wasn't what I was thinking, Commander," T'Pol attested, and it was as though a force quite apart from her rigid control inched her mouth closer to his. "You're thinkin' what I'm thinkin', then," he whispered against her plump lower lip, hearing how ragged his heartbeat was. When his lips constrained her lower lip, he felt tremors, and knew his wasn't the only body trembling. "Am I right?" T'Pol nodded against his mouth that was already devouring hers hungrily. Commander Trip Tucker, III may not have known how to ride a horse well, but T'Pol would be his staunchest supporter if the subject of his knowing how to 'bridle' her mouth was ever broached. She'd never known the like of such expertise, and allowing herself to be led right along came naturally. Any soreness Trip had felt was long forgotten; T'Pol was better than any greasy, sticky salve on any market, anywhere. "T'Pol?" Her head rested on his chest. "Hmmmm?" Her eyes remained closed. "As strange as things are gettin' here in the Expanse, if we ever have to share a horse again, would you ride with me?" Not giving in to over-analysis for a change, T'Pol inquired, "What was the term you used to encourage the animal to go?" In a flash, Trip answered, "Giddy-up." "That is my answer." Bussing the crown of her silky head, Trip voiced the command a second time, and his chuckles, along with his light humming then, gradually lulled T'Pol to sleep. Lazily, just before drifting off, he envisioned himself atop the majestic Seabiscuit galloping to victory. The uproarious throngs jammed into the stands threatened to never stop cheering. End... Messages from this list are mirrored on the ASCEM newsgroup. Read http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML/files/faq.txt for more information about your subscription to ASCEM/L. Yahoo! Groups Links