Received: from [66.218.66.28] by n50.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 17 Apr 2004 00:59:12 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 8710 invoked from network); 17 Apr 2004 00:59:11 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.217) by m22.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 17 Apr 2004 00:59:11 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta2.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 17 Apr 2004 00:59:11 -0000 Received: from max (as1-d28-rp-psci.psci.net [63.69.225.28]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i3H0wZOb015508 for ; Fri, 16 Apr 2004 19:58:36 -0500 Message-ID: <003b01c42417$249f8ba0$1ce1453f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" Organization: ConGlomeration X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1158 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 63.65.184.2 From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" X-Yahoo-Profile: sileya 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: Fri, 16 Apr 2004 19:58:47 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: ENT - Fast Forward - PG-13 - T/Tu - (1/1) Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit TITLE: Fast Forward (1/1) AUTHOR: Sue E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com SERIES: Enterprise Part: 1/1 RATING: PG-13 CODES/PAIRINGS: T/Tu CATEGORY: Het SPOILERs: Broken Bow, Unexpected, Fallen Hero, Similitude, Harbinger ARCHIVE: Yes, to all. Permission granted to all Enterprise archives. DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. No profit being made. SUMMARY: Trip and T'Pol have that talk, and a bit Fast Forward She opened her eyes, knowing he was gone before seeing. The exhilerating aura of his presence lingered, although the actual warmth of his robust body had long since ebbed. The commander's body was truly remarkable. Knowing what she'd done, it sported considerable bruising, and T'Pol liked the idea of his wearing marks--her tags--her declarations of ownership. He could hold, and had held his own if a comparison with any Vulcan male in his prime were made, she admirably judged. She labored with the idea of telling Tucker any more than she already had about why him...why now. Deciding against illuminating her quarters for the moment, T'Pol stretched her arms overhead and luxuriated in her feelings. The attachment to him, even stronger now, was profounder than she would have ever thought possible. In the comfort and solitude of her bunk her eyes danced. He belonged to her; it was simple, basic and indisputable. Tucker is my bondmate. My human, she stated firmly in her mind, and no longer apologetically, at that. No one is truer; no one more desired. If he told me he loves me, I would not despise him. I would respect him and his passionate avowal. And, decidedly from out of the blue, her psyche gave her a good, sound smack. Reeling mentally, T'Pol curled onto her side, tucking into the fetal position. Gnashing fist to mouth, and her teeth leaving their imprint upon her fingers, she bit down harder, nearly drawing blood. The anguished woman she was deep inside herself she felt die a little more. She judged there seemed to be some truth in one of the more popular sayings among humans. Sometimes, it was crueler to be kind... It would be a struggle, but she'd do it. When he sought her out, desirous of expressing his feelings for her, she would deny him even the memory of what should have never happened between them. She'd made it clear to him in the mess hall, over his strong black coffee, and her pungent green tea, that nothing more than satisfying her curiosity was responsible for the indiscretion. And, although the commander had seemed to accept her, what she thought was, convincing pretext, she should have known better. Tucker was no fool. He was no 'pushover,' either, as she'd heard Amanda Cole phrase it. He was a charmer, from the crown of his silky blond head to the soles of his pliant, no longer offensive-smelling feet. Covertly, T'Pol was ripe for being pushed; earlier in the day, pining for it, she didn't want to face it. She closed her eyes, awaiting his arrival... "Neuro-pressure, remember?" He seemed marginally surprised that she had opened the door before he'd had the chance to tap the chime. His cocky grin fairly splashed her. Clearly not in the mood for administering therapy tonight, or dealing with Tucker, whose whole demeanor tolled he was ready for anything, T'Pol readily lent herself to impasse. As she continued to regard him with chary eyes, she found herself admitting his brashness appealed to her. "Ya gonna let me in, or what?" Resisting, but compliant, she stopped barring his way. 'Therapy, and nothing more,' she admonished, 'this evening is not last. It will be *nothing* like last night.' She gestured for him to enter, and it wasn't her imagination seeing him saunter past her. Trip's gaze shifted from the therapy bench to the four lit candles positioned in a semi circle of sorts on the low table. Just being here put him in relax mode, although in a way, he felt as if he was returning to the scene of the lively crime he had gladly taken part in what felt like scant moments ago. T'Pol couldn't help notice that his eyes had flitted over to her bunk but had skittered away just as fast. She refrained from chastising him to a fine degree; despite her resolve she had been thinking the same thing. Sharing what they had last night would never be forgotten. T'Pol even doubted whether the rigors of Kolinahr reconditioning would purge her of the commander's indelible fingerprints on her 'katra.' He already had his shirt off and lay supine on the bench. His eyes were closed, and T'Pol could hear him breathing deeply in preparation. She stared at the rise and fall of his well-defined chest, arresting, and redirecting her attention for several absorbed minutes. He never looked more seductive, and yet wholly vulnerable at that moment. T'Pol slipped to his side, having removed her robe before going to him. Her eyes never left his face which had lost all of its smugness. Unlike the last time, she wore her shimmery blue pajamas, yet fancifully weighed the option of shedding them like superfluous second skin. Close by his right ear, T'Pol whispered, "Turn over." No hint of a flinch, Trip remained as he was, the raise of his left eyebrow a trifling indication that he'd heard. T'Pol had never known him to raise an eyebrow in that particular fashion. It reminded her of something she'd do. "Please," she patiently requested. "Why can't we start with the 'Tu-lan-tvi-sochya?' I really like that." His pronunciation had greatly improved; his mention of the requested position was flawless. "Is there some primary reason you wish to begin with that posture?" "No...not really," Trip said, but with a slight hitch in his voice. "Really," T'Pol flatly stated, giving him an especially dubious eye. "Now, why would I lie?" Oh, but he was skilled at it, as she unquestionably knew. "Why indeed, Commander." Nevertheless, she surprised him into tomorrow. "Very well..." She fitted her hand into his, watching his attentive eyes sparkle over the unexpected contact, her welcomed touch. "Come, we'll begin on the floor." Trip sat up immediately, looking like a happy dog thrown a sizeably meaty bone. "I appreciate your makin' time for me, T'Pol. Always have..." Making time with her was probably never-to-be-repeated, so he would have to deal with it. Though, he was loath to give up all hope. Experiment or no, she was the best he'd ever had, no comparison. The sultry memory of her lips appreciating his body rendered him numb for a moment. He allowed her to lead him to the area free of pillows off to the low table's left. "Lie down," she thoughtfully imposed. "Layin' down," Trip obediently returned, doing so face up, getting comfortable. He waited with keen anticipation. He stifled his throaty groan when T'Pol wreathed his lean middle with firm handholds. And, his breath caught when she tipped forward, treating him to the full view of her lovely breasts as she once had before. Trip licked his lips, fully appreciative, steeped in silence while T'Pol, his latest conquest, in denial about it, though she might be, attended to his nervous system. Fixating on her mammary bounty, he imagined pebbling their pert nipples with his tongue. "Damn, you're so good!" he lavishly lauded. "Ahhh..." The touch of his hot breath, concentratedly exhaled, brushed her bosom. It was her turn to cap a gasp. The reaction of her nipples made his eyes go agog, and it took all his willpower to keep his mouth off her, thereby putting a swift end to his therapy, he figured. T'Pol wasn't kidding about being able to read him. It was blatantly obvious to her why he wanted her exactly like this. She had effortlessly played right into his fantasy, and though she should have been galled, she fanned his flame, leaning down lower so that the tip of her right breast peaked the tip of his beak-tipped nose, her silky pajama top like a roomy tent about his face which felt as if it were set in stone. Hearing his strangled gasps pleased her to an end she'd never own up to. T'Pol dug her fingers in at his middle, moving her palms then over the board-straight plane of his sculpted abs. She toyed with the idea of snaking her hands down lower to his honey spot. Secretly, she worshipped his body, but there was no need for him to ever know that. "Breathe normally, Commander. Addled respiration increases tension." "Yeah, tell me 'bout it," Trip barely managed to get out, lucid brain function failing fast. "I am," T'Pol deadpanned, but her vocal quality suggested amusement just below her stern surface that had morphed into a facade. Not knowing, and not particularly caring what had gotten into her, she elected to scramble his brain, paying him back for what he was doing to her, whether it was intentionally or not. She leaned all the way down and placed the softest of kisses squarely on his bellybutton. Poking her tongue at it made Trip's entire midsection quiver and quake. "What the hell are ya doin' ta me, woman!" Following his sitting bolt upright, Trip gaped at her slack-jawed. "What do you think I'm doing?" T'Pol challenged. Sounding confirmatory, Trip exclaimed, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're tryin' ta seduce me all over again." "Is that what you think I did?" T'Pol asked with a wide-eyed innocence that flummoxed Trip. "I seduced you?" Groaning more loudly than he'd intended, Trip exhaled not sure, truly in a quandry. "I don't know. Hey, I'm sorry. It's my confusion talkin'. I'm tired, frustrated...an' wishin'...wishin' ya don't think that the love we made last night was some weird experiment you wanna forget all about." The deep sadness in his tone was impossible to dismiss. "It wasn't for me. It was nirvana in heaven. Why can't ya just level with me, like I'm tryin' with you? Why me? Why now? And if that's too hard...why denial?" "There is no denial." "No denial?" Trip nearly bellowed. "What do you call it? And *don't* tell me it's a river in Egypt." "You were the one who suggested we act as though it never happened." "*I* was the one?" His eyes crossed. "Yeah, okay--sure," Trip acknowledged, sounding derisive. "'Cause I didn't know what else to say. You made it pretty clear you were ashamed." Lowering his voice self-effacingly, Trip divulged, "It hurts, your makin' it out to be nothin' but futzin' around research. It's hittin' a guy way below where it hurts most, below the belt." Looking deeply into his eyes, T'Pol replied, "Your assessment is incorrect. I was not, am not ashamed." She fought the impulse to look away, and didn't. "I am..." She forced herself to scale the wall she had so carefully contrived while together in the mess hall. "Overwhelmed..." Trip nodded readily. "Yeah, me too, me too. Somethin' close to bein' shocked for me, like I was dreamin' you and me were happenin'. But, look, just 'cause we are, doesn't mean we should pretend everythin's status quo. We've changed, and that's a fact. If we take it slow, we might surprise ourselves, and that's in a good way. Not as in fiasco." He crept closer to her, glad to see acceptance dawning in her eyes. "Surprises done right can be nice. Real nice, T'Pol." Unassumingly he put his arm around her shoulders. "Do you wish our bonding?" T'Pol sounded tentative, although already knowing full well that the initial phase had inexorably begun; it had from the very moment he had fondled her ears with gel-stained hands in decon. If she could only be more certain of how he wished to proceed. Mutual attraction was a frail beginning. At this stage of her life, though virginal in carnal concerns, she knew she wanted more than being someone's "good time," as she'd heard Hoshi describe the human male's predisposition for sexual diversion, not to mention variety. "Bonding?" he said, sounding mystified. "Like gettin' married, right?" He shrugged and admitted, "That's movin' kinda fast, isn't it? But, maybe. Could you conceivably want *me* for a husband?" He felt as though this conversation had gone to warp, warp at 9.5, approaching 10. "Mating with you is acceptable." "Only acceptable?" he teased. T'Pol partially took the bait. "You never passed out as I had keenly anticipated you would, at some point. Indeed, your stamina nearly approximates a Vulcan male's." "Now talk about a vote of confidence..." Trip squeezed her shoulders very hard. "I don't put myself through extreme work-outs for nothin'." Her tone stiffened. "As a Vulcan, mating without benefit of marriage, which strengthens the bond to unseverable proportions, is unacceptable. We do not practice unsanctioned sex. Promiscuity is irredeemably illogical." "Unsanctioned, eh?" Trip quipped wryly. "Sounds downright null and void the way you put it." "It isn't a question of ethicality, but rather legitimacy. Progeny deserve ancestral ethnology. I am largely unacquainted with human morays in this regard. My impressions, I freely admit, are influenced by my heritage." "Circumstances haul baggage, like my dad still likes to say, and I agree. By and large, marriage still ranks way up there bein' the way ta go when the folks involved are goin' for permanance in the relationship." He gave her a wild look. "Marriage, huh? Deep. Think we could have kids?" This emotionally-charged discussion was a far cry from the stonewalling that had taken placed in the mess hall, many hours before. "I don't know. Probably not, but there is always that chance borne of the unexpected." Drawing upon his own experience with pregnancy, he couldn't argue that fine point. "And I should know, my brush with expectancy like handwritin' on the wall. As long as they'd get your ears, it'd be cool." He poured his heart into it when he insisted, "I'm crazy 'bout yours." Little did he know, she liked stroking his too. "You wish children?" He became serious, and it impressed T'Pol. "We're gettin' just a tad premature, don'tcha think? Unless...we could be permanant, really?" he upped. "Wanna be?" "Do you?" The idea of their being parents startled T'Pol. "You desire being a father one day?" "Me? Havin' kids? I never gave it too much thought. Too busy with my career...workin' my ass off to get this commission. If it turns out ya couldn't get pregnant, we could always adopt." Trip pressed her against himself. "It'd be an education, you and me, findin' out if we have what it takes over the long haul, don'tcha think?" His face went blank; what a tangent they'd gotten on. It was warping reality, talking so much pie in the sky. "What about your folks?" His mood darkened further when the real world in the guise of gaunt, emotionless, green-complected faces clouded his sunny vision of T'Pol and him basking in wedded bliss. "Even if your parents don't disown ya outright, the High Command would never allow us. Don't think they'd want you back with me in tow. You'd be shunned. Sure ya would, a no-brainer. Like you went insane, married sub food chain--takin' up with a freak like me. Guess they could blame it on your bein' in the Expanse for so long," he mused out loud. "Hell, bigotry sucks and I oughta know since I sure used to love swingin' it at you. Still can when I'm bein' an ass." He gave a short humorless laugh, rolling his eyes. "You'd be lettin' yourself in for a world of rejection, from your own, sweetie, with me as the root cause. Soval, for starters. Man, he'd have kittens. Prejudice...guess it's as old as the stars. It'd slam us from both sides, Vulcans and humans." "Prejudice is irrelevant; it remains the problem of those who nourish it. Though there is much to consider, let's not lose our perspective," T'Pol tempered, while inspiration bathed her wildly upbeat, for her, tone. "And who is demanding I must return to Vulcan? My parents knew I was different from a very young age. I remain who I choose to be. It was you who said I had that choice." "What? Quotin' me?" Trip said, sounding like an echo protracted. "So I did." Still, he couldn't believe she could be this accepting. "You'd consider living on Earth, separated from kin?" T'Pol merely stared him down. "I'll live wherever it is I can be with you, for however long that may be. Must reality be clinically analyzed this very moment, all at once? And, not to cast a pall, but there is the matter of my outliving you by a wide margin." He blinked at that realization as he felt something 'ping' in his heart. "I forgot all about that." "As far as I'm concerned, it's a negligible factor. I face several health issues, so you could very well outlive me." "Livin' bein' the operative word. What say we concentrate on that. Time and unforeseen events level the playin' field across the board. I could leave here, slip on a wet surface, crack my skull wide open, and there ya go. And no clone to bail me outta brain death this time around. Phlox told me the other symbiotic entity died shortly after your friend Sim was put down." They might never make it out of the Expanse, every last one of them. Sobering as that was, Trip chose to focus on the positive which made him feel the way he had felt when she'd kissed the wind out of him last night. "Uh...T'Pol?" "Yes?" "I'd like havin' ya in my life. Maybe it's high time I started thinkin' 'bout settlin' down. I sure as hell ain't gettin' any younger. At least let's see if we stand a chance. It took...well, let's say, a pinch of jealousy on my part, on the back burner, to pry open my eyes." "On our parts, our eyes." "Yeah, ours." He paused for a breath. "So...you and me?" "Considering what I judge to be logical, yes." That was a response he would have liked to have taped. "I'm sorry I resorted to trickery, startin' off with what I call the peek-a-boob position. It wasn't worthy of you, not to mention sullyin' my sterlin' reputation as a perfect gentleman. Forgive me?" "You didn't trick me. I realized your aim. If I had not wanted to explore your motive, I wouldn't have acquiesced." The softness of her eyes rendered him spellbound. "I feel better, now that we've talked...really talked, like I wanted in the Mess, a while back." "As do I..." "Couldn't believe you didn't want to." "I wanted to, but couldn't." "Couldn't believe what we'd shared you wanted to expunge." His sigh spread over them, settling like a blanket. "Don't care what anybody says...sex changes the dynamic, end of story. And, darlin', we've changed, like it or not." "I was indisposed. Emotions, chaotic, harder to understand, which I'm still struggling to control, sapped my better judgment." She attained resolution which caused her to confess, "I was afraid. Afraid of what I feel for you, in tenuous conjunction with what you perhaps didn't feel for me..." "I feel, T'Pol, believe me--hoo-boy do I ever. I've never felt so much in my whole life." Trip eased his lips against the side of her head, breathing in her intoxicating scent. "Come to think of it, you did look greener 'round the gills than usual. And I know drinkin' your new favorite, green tea, had nothin' ta do with it." He stroked her cheek. "How ya feelin' now?" "Much better," she reaffirmed, enjoying the sensation of his cementing embrace, the light massage of his lips on her hair. The oddness of her trepidation over his true feelings for her allayed. "Good, 'cause it's your turn. My magic fingers," he wriggled all ten, "are at your disposal." "I have a better idea." "Which is?" She rose, extending her hand to his right one. "There is a more advanced position I have never shown you which I think you'll enjoy most of all." "Really?" Trip rejoined, looking intrigued. "Yes. It is best performed lying down, side by side, and on that." She glanced towards her bunk, with Trip's eyes following her focus. Pursing his lips as far as they could go, Trip said tartly, "You're the expert, darlin'. I've still got lots to learn...and you're the kind of teacher I never had." He grinned large. "Well, least not till now." His mouth inched to her ear and he whispered directly into it, "Teach me tonight, dumplin'." Less than an hour later, Trip, not even snoring, lay sheltered within T'Pol's possessive arms, sleeping like a baby. Awake, but languishing, T'Pol traced the delicate curve of his earlobe as she softly sang a treasured Vulcan lullaby in his ear. It was a shame he was sleeping so soundly; she had a lovely singing voice, her timbre wondrous. The finishing touch to the best neuro-pressure session, and then some, he'd had thus far. Her people, in the majority, would never understand; their extreme bias, that could be counted on. They would mock, ridicule, perhaps even revile her. How could she have committed such gross irrationality? The miscreant of a human must have corrupted her to a point of no return, and she was lost to them. Of no consequence, T'Pol cogently dismissed. She understood, having chosen. Although the odds might have been against their being meant to be, they were going to be. Acceptance, strong and true, invigorated her, forced her to see many things in starker cohesion. Ones more enlightened, such as Ambassador V'Lar, might concede that a Vulcan-human union wasn't the most abhorrent of abnormalities. The stately woman had confessed to her brief liaison with a human dignitary, long ago. The people involved in the union determined its nature and subsequent outcome, she had counseled. Charles Tucker, III, more human than a human had a right to be, was now her life. The pads of her fingers caressed his soft cheek. While thinking a wealth of intersecting thoughts which were colored by assortments of torquing emotions, she glanced down at his tranquil looking face, seeing he smiled. In that moment, so did she, and sealed all that she felt for him with her kiss. He dreamed of her, but what she saw was indistinct. More clarity would be attained over time. Their connection was in its infancy, but it warmed her to know it would mature. It would prevail, against all odds. He had her promise. She had his love. End [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] ------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor ---------------------~--> Buy Ink Cartridges or Refill Kits for your HP, Epson, Canon or Lexmark Printer at MyInks.com. Free s/h on orders $50 or more to the US & Canada. http://www.c1tracking.com/l.asp?cid=5511 http://us.click.yahoo.com/mOAaAA/3exGAA/qnsNAA/5x3olB/TM ---------------------------------------------------------------------~-> Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEM-S/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCEM-S-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com <*> Your use of Yahoo! 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