SoCS and #LoISInDaBl Day 21:”A Helluva Team”

Float down the Stream With Us!

Float down the Stream With Us!

For today, Bee‘s prompt is “you/me.  Linda‘s is “relative/relativity”And, yup – the Vulcan in my head, and the human who loves her, decided to hijack this post, too – rather delightfully, I think. I hope you agree!

Disclaimer: Although I believe T’Pol and Trip have their own ideas about it, Paramount claims ownership.

“Who’s that for?” Jon jabbed a finger at the tea.

“T’Pol.” I knew he wasn’t going to take it well, but the best option seemed to be brazening through. “And, if you’ll excuse me, Cap’n, I want to get it to her while it’s still hot.” I turned, and he barely got out of my way in time. I figured the hot liquids might be all that stopped him from decking me. Did I look and act this stupid, when my testosterone was up?

“From my observations, it seems to be endemic to your species.” But there was teasing acceptance behind her thought-message. “However, your possessiveness troubles me considerably less; perhaps it’s a relative matter, or that I am yours…”

“We talkin’ in our heads, now, pepperpot?”

“Yes. I would appreciate receiving my tea while its still hot.”

“Trip?” Jon was peering at me, now, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be mad or concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Cap’n. Just an aftereffect of the meld, I guess. Didn’t know she could still talk to me.”

“What did she say?” There was a little too much emphasis on the ‘she’. I hoped like hell he was going to get over this possessive streak when he recovered from those Orion pheremones, because this wasn’t making adjusting to the bond, or that second bombshell she’d dropped, about needing to mate so she wouldn’t die, any easier.

“Said she likes her tea hot, and that I should get a move on.”

“T’Pol said that?”

“I could be paraphrasing.” I smiled. “She’s a helluva lot more formal than I am, after all.”

I got to the door, and Jon pushed the button, then followed me through. Any hope I had that he’d let it drop evaporated when he said, “Trip, what’s going on between you and T’Pol?”

I was at a loss – but then, words and ideas came into my head – a way to reveal just enough, without actually lying – or really answering the question. I surrendered to the master, and let myself be her conduit, lending her my own voice and tone. “Well, Cap’n, she’s too polite to say anything -“

“T’Pol’s not that polite, Trip. And I’ve never known her to hold back when she’s got something to say – any more than you do.”

“You and me, pepperpot – the loudmouths of the ship.” I found that more amusing than she did. To Jon, I said, “You’ve never been seduced by an Orion slave girl before, either, sir. But you have been now – and so have the rest of the men aboard – even, I’ve heard, the ones that don’t usually think of women as potential partners.” I had to admit, I felt sorriest for those guys – bad enough to be overwhelmed, but to be attracted to someone who would never normally turn your head – there was something cruel in that…

“Except you.” That was an accusation, pure and simple. “Why, Trip? T’Pol’s immune. You’re immune. Nobody else.”

“I’m not a doctor. If Phlox doesn’t know, how the hell am I supposed to? Maybe it’s that we work together a lot. Maybe it’s the neuropressure, or the melding – or even the dance lessons – I just don’t know.” We had our suspicions, but it was true that we didn’t know for certain that the bond was the reason. “Anyway – there’s been a lot of sexual frustration around lately, and a lot of fighting. And a lot of excess, angsty emotional energy floating around. She couldn’t hide from it while you weren’t able to do your duty, but she can now that you’re – more or less- functional again.”

“But she can tolerate you? Trip, when she first got here, I was damned near positive you were going to kill her. After I saw her fight a time or two, I was damned near positive she was going to kill you.” Finally, Jon cracked a smile.

“And now look at us. I’m bringin’ her tea, like I’m all civilized.” I felt T’Pol’s awareness sharpening – she could feel the punch line coming, even if she didn’t use those words. And she knew I was getting closer…I could feel her quiver of arousal humming back to life. “Lusty little pepperpot,” I thought to her, and something sinuous and swift passed through my mind, catlike and tempting. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Cap’n, if you promise not to tell her.”

“I promise.”

I grinned at him as we neared her door. “I’m just waiting till her back’s turned. I was the fastest short-sheeter in summer camp, and I’ll just bet Vulcan kids don’t pull pranks – hell, maybe they don’t even have summer camp – I mean, it’s a desert world, and all that…what would the counselors say -‘OK, kids, go jump in the sand dunes?'”

“Trip, I order you not to short-sheet Commander T’Pol’s bed.” Jon chuckled. We were at her door, now, and he pressed the button. He peered in; thankfully, T’Pol was sitting facing us, eyes open, but still in meditative pose. “Watch him, T’Pol – he’s got designs on your bedding. Dinner, nineteen hundred. Both of you. Enjoy your tea.”

T’Pol sighed deeply as she accepted her mug, her fingers lingering on mine, seductive in a way I’d never known, before her. “You handled that well, Trip.”

Me? Not all by myself. It was you and me, pepperpot.” It was tempting fate, but I couldn’t resist. I took those fingers, very carefully, and brushed my lips over the backs of her fingers. She moaned softly, trembling.

Like you said, Trip, we make a helluva team.”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

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#LoISInDaBl Day 20:”T’Pol Visits T’Mir”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!


For today, Bee‘s  prompt is “grandparents”. I had an essay in mind, but I live with this Vulcan woman in my head, and she had other ideas – and so, you get a vignette from T’Pol’s childhood…

Disclaimer: Although I believe T’Pol is a law unto herself, Paramount claims ownership.

Here, we have TMir, as a young woman on 1950s Earth…

“You will comport yourself appropriately at your first foremother’s home.” Mother was calm; I wondered at what age I would be able to control my responses to that degree. Or, perhaps, Mother had no emotional responses to control. It was logical to assume that the possibility existed. I wondered if it would be possible to devise an algorithm by which I might calculate the possibility. Certainly, that was a more interesting and useful pursuit than listening to her say the same things, in the same tone, in precisely the same order as she had ever other time I had come to stay with T’Mir.

I allowed my mind to sink into the puzzle as the groundcar angled up the final hills to the home of my oldest living ancestress…better that than reveal my ‘unseemly anticipation’.

“T’Pol, you are not attending to your mother’s directives with sufficient focus.” I blinked – when had we stopped?

“Yes, Father. Mother, I will do my best.” I gathered my bags and passed them to Father before disembarking.

“See that you do.”

That was all the parting I had from her. Father leaned in close to me, and something quick and alive flashed in his eyes. “May you find your time agreeable, daughter.”

Mother was already turning toward the groundcraft, and wouldn’t see. Had she planned this, to allow us this moment together? I didn’t know, but I pressed my fingers against Father’s in a filial ouz’hesta, attempting to memorize his bioeletric signature, so that I could hold it in my mind, during the time we would be apart.

And then he was turning to join Mother, and I was alone at the entrance to my first foremother’s sand garden. I opened the gate and passed within. It was too near zenith for T’Mir to be comfortable coming to greet me; she was very aged, and had grown frail.

“My T’Pol. Come, child, and let me relearn your face.”

It was pleasingly cool and dim inside; the candlelight made flickering shadows on the walls – and the shrunken woman seated before the bank of candles. My emotions became intense, and I hurried to her, eager for her touch, for her stories – for her acceptance of me, precisely as I was, always. For the learning she offered, of a people far away, a people most Vulcans found primitive, lacking the discipline of a mature culture, chaotic and dangerous.


I went to her, settled on my knees beside her.

“Will you allow me to touch you, T’Pol? My eyes no longer adjust well, after I’ve watched the flames.”

I had to focus on each word; here, when we were alone, we spoke only in English, the dominant language on Earth. She waited, blinking as she watched me. “Yes, T’Mir,” I said, when I was certain I understood her intent.

Her hands felt like desert breezes against my skin, and I breathed in the warmth of the touch, so different than Mother’s. “How can it be that a mother and daughter are so unlike one another?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud, but there was nothing to be done, once it was said.

T’Mir’s breath released in some way I’d never heard from anyone else – was it something she had acquired, when she lived amongst the humans? “Are you thinking of the differences between me and my daughter, T’Pol – or yourself and your mother?”

“T’Les seems unlike both of us,” I replied.

“Humans have an expression: ‘Some things skip a generation’. Perhaps it is true, and there are things in my nature that I passed, through genetic inheritance, not to her, but instead, through her, to you.”

“Do you think it is so, T’Mir?” Her fingers trembled slightly; I was reminded again that she was very old, and couldn’t be expected to live much longer.

“Perhaps, child, and perhaps not. But it’s most agreeable to have you here with me, and know that you’re of like mind.”

“Tell me how I may serve you.” I wanted to do something for her; something that would, however illogically, allow me to forget her mortality, even if only for only a short time.

That strange breathing sound again. ” Simply be as you are, T’Pol. I live alone, most of the time, and I’m well capable of meeting my needs.”

“I -” I paused for a moment, attempting to choose the most precise human term to express my emotions. Terrans had a great diversity in such terms; it was something I wondered at. “I wish to serve you.”

“Ah, T’Pol. Such a serious child – do you know that children on Earth are seldom so? That play is often considered their main occupation?” Gentle fingers stroked my hair. “You will serve me best by being as you are, and doing what pleases you.”

“I will prepare tea,” I decided. But, as I went to her kitchen and tended to it, her words remained in my mind.

‘You will serve me best by being as you are, and doing what pleases you.’

As I watched the water carefully, so that no drop would be wasted, I wondered at the alien concept. Neither Mother nor Father, nor anyone but her, had ever asked me to consider what pleased me. Suddenly, with T’Mir’s statement, there seemed something amiss in that, that my life would be orchestrated without any consideration of my – my wishes.

But was that not the way of a Vulcan life?

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 And the blooper fun as T’Pol entertains the humans who asked for a story- two hundred years later.

SoCS and #LoIsInDaBl Day 13: A Couple of Three

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Happy Valentine’s Day (if you celebrate that kind of thing). Otherwise, happy Saturday to you! Today, Bee prompts us to write about a single/bi/threesome relationship. Over at SoCS, Linda‘s prompt is “attach/attachment.”

I’m offering up an excerpt from The Earth Doth Move, the Star Trek: TOS and Enterprise crossover fan fiction novel which was my NaNoWriMo 2014 project. My characters surprised me by becoming a threesome (that wasn’t in the story plan at all!). I’ve edited a few typos, but it’s otherwise exactly as written – in true NaNo-frenzied stream of consciousness style!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spock (despite what Paramount claims, I’m not sure they do either!)

**Warning: Sexually graphic scenes depicting group and extraterrestrial acts. You must be of legal age to proceed past this point. Those offended by erotica or explicit material might best click away now.**

There had been no hands on his back, then, stroking down to his buttocks, urging his plunging, hungry surges. No, nor breasts and lips to suckle, or to be suckled by, as he came, and came again, the bodies always shifting, giving new pleasure, and now their was a stavril, open to him like a lovely petal, stamen inflamed, and he dared to taste its sweet nectars, and then, transfixed by its beauty, by its pulsing, glistening beauty, he could not stop tasting, exploring, his mind held open to feel the way to give the precise pleasures she craved – and his stavrit – his stavrit was claimed it turn by hungry lips, playful teeth, and then, as he thrust tongue and stavrit, deeply, together, there was another mouth upon another stavril, making a harmonic wave, and then – and then there was Attunement – and T’Lys, stalking amongst them, stroking them, binding them into one Huntthread, so that they could feel together, touch one another, need not be close to be dancing.

“It is like to arytana, when the nectars are concentrated into a syrup,” she said. “Let this be your arytana, my fierce one.”

And so they drank another dose, and then another, and a third, and were the tide and the dancing together….

Spock reclined against the bed, with Mara on one side, and Thistle on the other, and there was the touching that was pleasant when all had found Completion – akin to the washings of the Pride, that bound them once Matehunt released them…

“What the hell is it with you, man?” Thomas was in the doorway of Spock’s quarters, watching them, smiling. “How the hell do you do it?”

“Essentially, the same way as you do, Thomas.” Spock lifted a brow. “Are you seeking more – pointers?”

“Why you arrogant – hell, I can’t even say it, with the three of you glowing like that, and you looking anything but arrogant – hell, you just look natural. Keep your pointers, Spock – I don’t think they’d do me a damned bit of good. You’ve got something I’ll never have – maybe it’s the points on your ears, even when you cover them up…I don’t know what it is, but you’ve been back less than a day, and you’re – you’re what?”

“We’re a couple.” Thistle giggled at that. “Aren’t we, our Dragon, our Mara?”

“Yes.” Spock and Mara answered together.

“What? No discussion of the illogic of calling three people a ‘couple’?”

“No, Thomas. It is – most logical to do so, for that is what we are. It is what we have chosen, to spare pain, and to find delight. It is – “

“Time to get ready for the party, is what. Which you’d know, Mara, if you’d been back to your room. I’ve got us starting at 7, and that’s only an hour away.”

“I was not finished speaking, Thomas.”

“Hey, Spock?”


“Anyone ever tell you that you talk way too much when you’re drunk and horny?”

Spock considered this for a moment. “No. No one ever has.” Before he could say anything else, Mara claimed his lips, Thistle his stavrit, and, the next time he looked, the door was closed, and Thomas, if he had even been here, was gone.

“I fear that we are quite late for my party.”

The touching had spiraled, once again, carrying them into the tide, into sharing- of absinthe, and cannabis, and one another.

“It’s called being fashionably late,” Mara said.

“Making an entrance,” Thistle added.

“We are already inside,” Spock said, most logically.

But they only laughed, and dressed him, together, with nothing beneath the robe, and nothing over but a light cloak, edged in passion-green. Each of them selected one of the long Vulcan tunics for each other; as he prepared another dose – Sybok had brought a case of absinthe, this time, and they had more than enough to share, so, once the women were dressed only in the tunics that brushed the middle of Thistle’s thigh, and slightly lower on Mara’s, with light cloaks tossed over them, they arranged the bottles, and Thistle made a little sign in a lovely script, that read, BOYG – Bring Your Own Glass. Sybok had seen that there was sugar, as well – if they ran low, Mara said, someone could go to the Mess Hall and get more.

And then, they were ready – still bound together by what T’Lys had woven with them, within them, still dancing, at a level not far beneath Attunement, so that there was a strong sense of one another, and of oneness…

“There are – a great many people outside this door,” he said, and they could hear with him – well enough, at least, not to ask the seemingly perpetual human question – “Are you sure?”

Float down the Stream With Us!

Float down the Stream With Us!

Float down the stream with more SoCS posts!

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#LoIsInDaBl Day 12: Throwing It All Away

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today, Bee‘s prompt is to write a short story about a love affair.  Since I’m working on developing the characters of Barry, Corinne, Exuberance, and Terrance for a novella project I’ll begin later in the year, I decided to write an exploratory story for them, based on a pivotal moment in Terry and Barry’s marriage.

**Warning: Potential emotional triggers and sporadic cursing.**

“You look sad, today, sweetie. Need someone to talk to?”

I nodded, and didn’t spend the effort it would take to turn around. We’d talked here, before, Exuberance and I, and she’d told me that, despite the cancer that seemed to crop up again each time she thought she’d beaten it back, she saved her energy for “the party, sweetie. Cause life’s always a party if you let it be, know what I mean?”

I’d told her that I could remember a time when I had, but that had been long ago.

I looked again at the cleft in the dunes where they had disappeared. It had been nearly half an hour, now, according to the Rolex Barry had given me so long ago, on our very first anniversary. When he disappeared into the cliffs with his sweet young treat, he’d been wearing a ridiculous Mexican shirt, and cutoff jeans that, despite being sixty-two, he managed to look natural in . Sweet young Corinne had given him a pookah-shell necklace, and he’d had that on, too, the long waves of his silver hair blowing back in the breeze in a way that made my heart hurt – and had nothing at all to do with the disease that was slowly choking the life out of it, and me.

“You’re looking for him – for them.”

I didn’t deny it.

She sat down beside me, uninvited, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse, the slim kind Barry used to smoke; cloves, not tobacco. I could almost taste them, taste those early, heady kisses.

He’d never cheated. Not once -

But I had. Oh, yes. There had been men, and women, too. Every time I got depressed. No matter how hard Barry tried to be enough, to be everything I needed to hold against the hurt and the downward spiraling, the pressure that crushed me as though I were trapped under the slabs of heavy metals in my studio – the only thing that helped was to be with someone else, to throw myself into the first bed I came across, with anyone who would fuck me, any way they wanted to do it – just the way it had been, back when I was a kid, and didn’t know it could be different…

“You’re not garbage,” Barry whispered, every time I dragged my sorry ass home. Sometimes, I was bloody, or covered in the vomit of a debauch, and – nothing but human refuse, the way I always had been. And still he whispered, “You matter. To me, you are the treasure of a lifetime.” And he always washed me tenderly, even if I was still so wasted he had to do it on the floor, and put me to bed, crawling in with me, holding me while I cried and apologized, but inside I was laughing with joy that he had passed the test, again…

I’d orchestrated him and Corinne, because I was sure it would stay platonic – at least, until I died, and Barry sought comfort in his grief. He’d passed every test, after all…

Until now.

Down on the beach, they emerged – bare to the world they seemed to have forgotten. My throat clutched; and I gasped, my heart squeezed so tight I thought this might be it.

“Oh, Terrance. I’m so sorry.” Exuberance laid a hand on mine, her dark fingers against my pale skin, nails the same vibrant purple as her glittering cocktail gown – a rather ridiculous thing to be wearing in early afternoon, anywhere but here.

I looked away from the window, focusing only on Exuberance. I didn’t want to see the beauty of the two flushed bodies I knew so well juxtaposed upon one another- male and female, aging and ripening, my lover and my portrait model….

“Don’t know why I’m pulling these out; I only smoke them after, anymore.” Those long fingers began to stroke, their message clear, echoing her words with action. Her thigh brushed mine.

Unsure, still, I turned back to watch Barry and Corrine; they ran together into the surf, seeming like dolphins.

I was dying, and Barry was playing in the waves with a girl scarcely a woman, and young enough to be his granddaughter.

He’s abandoned me.”

“You can have all of this, Terrance, if you want it.” She was leaning in, making sure I could get a look down her low-cut neckline.

The old thrill raced through me, and I didn’t care, right now, about my ruined heart, or whether it might kill me to have sex. I was dying anyway, and Barry had found someone new to treasure.

Her hand drew mine slowly to the edge of the table, then past, to her thigh.

I hesitated. “No, not here. Will you come home with me, right now?”

“Lover, I’ve been hoping you’d ask since the day I first saw you!”

We left, her arm wrapped around my waist. I was ready to throw myself away again – and this time, Barry wasn’t going to be there to clean up my messes.

And I planned to create a disaster. Maybe, if I was lucky, one that would kill me.

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#WOW and #LoIsInDaBl Day 11: “Invention and Revelation”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

The prompt for Write On Wednesday at Story a Day this week is Inventor’s Day. Meanwhile, Bee’s prompt for Love Is In Da Blog is trans. I’ve combined the two to create this flash story; using characters from an upcoming project.

“And you invented it?” I was struck by his dark eyes, sparking off glints of gold and green. He was a beautiful man, and I had to focus on his words to keep from getting lost in fantasies of what it would be like to bring him home and make the things I was imagining real.

I shrugged. “Most of the time, I don’t even think about it anymore.”

“But still -you invented something that people so useful, it’s changed the face of commuters all over.” There was interest in his eyes – at least, I thought it was interest. Hoped. Feared. Something about this sculptor pulled at me in a way I’d never felt before.

“Well, be that as it may, it’s not going to get us through this meeting…” I was a businessman, now, not an inventor. Time I remembered that. It was a defense, like the suit and tie I wore to work every day…a little piece of armor that would shield me from this powerful. dangerous attraction.

Terry smiled. “All right, Mr. Businessman. We’ll play it straight, for now.” But the way he was looking at me gave it a deeper meaning, and said that he’d seen right through me.

The way that made my heart pound was downright dangerous. The way his eyes scanned up and down my body was even more so.

I cleared my throat, and hoped that he would take my lead. This was a conservative firm; there was no room here for the type of extracurricular activity we’d been circling around since our first meeting three weeks ago. Or for my truth. I needed to remember that. “At our last meeting, we narrowed down the lobby centerpieces to five choices. The planning committee eliminated two. So, we’re down to three finalists.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Romulus and Remus – but I’m having a little trouble imagining it in the space.”

Terrance smiled . “Why don’t you come down to my studio – it’s a space nearly the same size as your lobby, and it might help you decide. After, I’d love to treat you to dinner.” His voice was soft- with a rasp of desire in it.

I took a deep breath, and plunged in. “I’ll be finished for the day at six. Is that too late for you?”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. “I’ll tell you a secret, Barry.” Dangerous, the way my name sounded, caressed by his lips. “This is early for me. I’m at my best overnight.” He winked, and rose, wrapping strong callused hands around his travel mug, which he lifted in salute. “See? Your invention has changed my life, too.”

Romulus and Remus as infants. Public domain image via Wikimedia Commons.

“Somehow, I knew you’d choose Romulus and Remus,” he said, and his grin now wasn’t at all ambiguous. He was even more compelling, here in his own domain.

“The lines are classic and clean, and the style innovative; I think the board will be satisfied with the way it looks in the space.” I loved the way the two chrome men intertwined as they wrestled. They looked like water come to life.

We sat at a table on a balcony overlooking the sculpture. We’d feasted on rack of lamb and the trimmings, and were now sipping coffee over creme brulee. Barry looked at me over the rim of his mug. “So, are you going to tell me how you invented the travel mug, Barry?”

This was it – my chance to speak my truth. I could put it off. He might never notice anything different about me; I could keep my secret, and protect myself. But there was something about him, and about me, since I’d met him. I thought that we could be more than lovers – maybe much more. But, if I began with a secret, what would that mean?

I decided to tell the truth. “When I was in college, I took the subway everywhere. I also practically lived on coffee. I would grab it at the corner cafe near my apartment, and carry it in one of those lidded paper cups – and my hands were always full.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“It was. One day, someone bumped me, and I ended up with hot coffee in my lap.”

“Painful.” Terry grimaced, and I knew this was it – now, before we took the next step hovering between us.

“More than you know. I’d had the first stage of my reassignment surgery only three weeks before, and I was still very tender. It was a powerful motivator to come up with a better alternative.” I toyed with my fork, and stared at my dessert.

“Reassignment.” The word hung there, as though he needed to taste it to understand. Finally, he said, softly, “Then – you used to be – “

“Miserably living in a woman’s body.”

A long pause; I concentrated on breathing.

“You didn’t need to tell me.”

At his tone, I looked at him. “If we’re going where I think we are, Terrance, I don’t want to start with a lie – even one of omission.”

He rose and came to kneel beside me. ” Barry – I’ve wanted you since we met. If you’ll have me – “

He leaned in, offering himself – and there was no need to say anything else.

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Romulus as an adult warrior. Public domain image via Wikimedia Commons.

WIPpet Wednesday: “…Claim Me As Your Valentine”

Do you like to WIPpet?


Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! First up – I’ll be in Oregon next week and  the one after.  I’ll schedule my posts, but might not  get back to answer comments or visit.  I’m gonna miss you guys!

Guess who’s back, just for this week, to tempt and tease?

Disclaimers: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful! Ive done my best to extrapolate without violating series canon.

This snippet from The IDIC Romance, my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction, occurs during the climactic Season 3 episode, Zero Hour – February 14, 2154.  After a year of trauma, rifts,  and personal crisis,  TnT are finally growing closer again. T’Pol just floored Trip with a sudden and irresistible seduction…and now, the aftermath…and after the snippet, I’ve got another sweet treat for you! <3

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is February 11, 2015.
  • Math: None, except that it’s a Valentine’s Day story….and you’re welcome.

Warnings: A mite spoilery, as in we see some of how the relationship might progress. Also quite first-drafty.

T’Pol recovered herself to find Trip was watching her. He seemed both very pleasantly surprised, and worried. Perhaps other things, as well.

“You feel so much, at once. Doesn’t it confuse you?”

“You’ve met me, right?” He grinned, but studied her closely. “I’m doing this a bit ass-backwards, but, are you OK? You had me scared for a minute or two, there – I think you fainted – and then you made me forget that I was scared…”

“I am – perhaps more ‘OK” than I have been in – in far too long.” She pulled him in for another deep kiss. “I have missed this…t’hy’la.”

“Mind if I point out that you could have had it, anytime?”

“Only if you will accept my word that it’s not true in the sense you believe.”

“I’m suddenly getting the idea that there’s a lot I don’t know here.” His touch was gentle, and his concern deepened. “Am I making things worse again?”

“You are offering perhaps the deepest of healing.”


She meant it. He could almost feel it – the release of all that desperate control, the crumbling of the walls she’d held.

He wanted to charge in, storm the castle, and claim the lovely princess for his own…

But this was no fairy tale – and she’d been through hell – might still be in hell, even now, beneath the flush of release. At best, she was fragile – and in command. Aww, hell.

Trip found himself chuckling. “The Captain expects you to keep me in line, remember?”

“Perhaps, then, I should evaluate your performance, and give him a comprehensive report?”

“Aww, pepperpot.” He embraced her, settled her head on his shoulder, and sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Damned if he was even gonna try to pin her down on this one. Nope. This time, he was just gonna enjoy the moment, and not try to make one thing out of it that it wasn’t. Besides, soon, she was going to get up and get back to work – and he wanted her to be able to do that without worrying about him.

Now, she craned her neck to look at him upside down. “You’ve used that appellation before. I find myself – most curious as to its origin.”

“Good. ‘Bout time I had you wondering about something, ‘stead of the other way ’round. Hey, what time is it?”

She glanced at her monitor, and then he felt her start to gather herself. “We were due in the Command Center fifteen minutes ago,” she said, and stretched against him with a decadence that made him groan. “We are quite late – I had forgotten.” And still, she didn’t quite seem to be able to pull herself away ….she kissed him again, and her paired fingers caught at his, in that delightful kissing that didn’t look like kissing, and her quiver made him wish, for a minute, that they were the two lowest peons in the chain of command, instead of the highest.

She seemed to have forgotten again, already, judging by her dreamy-sultry eyes. “Hey, pepperpot?”


“You. Me. Clothes. Work.” He held her shoulders and formed each syllable distinctly; she seemed to need that. Whatever had broken down those walls she’d had up for so long seemed to have her feeling a hell of a lot more than thinking, and he hoped he hadn’t made it impossible for her to do her job.

T’Pol actually made a face as though she’d eaten an especially tart lemon whole. She met his eyes; hers held a teasing light. “Awww, hell.”

That sent Trip into raucous laughter; she gave him that special little head tip that said she thought his sanity was in serious question, and got up smoothly – just as the comm signaled. “Bridge to T’Pol.”

“Damn, pepperpot – they caught you.”

“This is true.” She walked, stark naked and delicious, to the comm. “But only you, Trip, can claim me as your Valentine. T’Pol here.”

She was all business as she acknowledged the call – except for that smoldering way she was looking at him, and the brazenness of the way she stood there, unabashedly nude.

What‘s next? Will their tryst be discovered? Will T’Pol actually write an evaluation for the captain? Will Trip be able to resist a naked and smoldering Vulcan who’s finally open to passion again?

Well, you’ll have to keep guessing, at least for a while…but I did promise another surprise, and here it is:

Second Serving Monday: The Double Feature Edition

A weekly peek backwards and a look ahead, from my little corner of the blogosphere

So, I kinda vanished last week. Sorry about that! It was just – well, life. I can’t get more specific than that; I really don’t know anything except that I ran out of day long before I ran out of things to do. And with vacation looming ever closer on the horizon, that’s not that likely to change for a while.

To make up for my absence; I’m offering a more streamlined Second Serving that will play catchup, and usher in February a bit late, but with sincerity.

Last week in life:

  • Snow, writing, new boots, new ideas, growth, hometending, and other bits and pieces.

My last Second Serving Sunday post: The Final January 2015 Edition. 

  • Check here to access the previous week’s posts and news.

And now, features from the last two weeks

Coffee and Conversation:

WIPpet Wednesday:

  • Can You?”T’Pol has a plan, but Trip resists the logic of it.
  • Father?”: A young girl awakens alone in a forest – or is she still dreaming?

SoCS (Stream of Consciousness Saturday):

  • Dance Lessons?:  Jonathan Archer decides to ask T’Pol to dinner, only to find her in Trip’s arms, with an improbable explanation.
  • When Trip Met T’Pol” (Movie Night): T’Pol’s exploration of a human concept called love includes Harry, Sally, Trip – and contradictions that define.

Just Jot It January: A daily post on the current prompt, all month long.

  • Kids: Who Owns Their Sexuality?: An exploration of what parents can control, and whether we should try.
  • Of Zucchinis and Condoms: An impromptu question sparks experimentation and new learning.
  • Vulcan Biology – As In Reproduction: How DO Vulcans choose their mates? A foray into the fascinating fictional reality of pon farr, the Vulcan mating imperative.
  • Inter-Species Relations: A flash fiction account of T’Pol telling Trip about a life-or-death matter.
  • Sex in the Big City: An adventure to the Big Apple, and into sexuality and friendship.
  • Who Owns My Sexuality?: Is it me? The government? My spouse? Society? I have ideas.

Love Is In Da Blog: A month-long celebration of love; with weekly themes and daily prompts.

ROW80: The Writing Challenge That Knows You Have A Life.

Variety’s Spice:

We like trains!

What’s Next:

February Focuses:

  • Oregon Trip: Lots to plan and do to get ready for our upcoming vacation.
  • The rest of life – blogging, hometending, family, other writing…

This week, on the blog:

  • For Coffee and Conversation: A tribute to my Accomplice, and the life we’ve lived together.
  • For WIPpet Wednesday: A sweet surprise.
  • Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), a #LoIsInDaBl/SoCs combined prompt.
  • ROW80 Updates: My progress on my January goals for A Round of Words in 80 Days;
  • Love Is In Da Blog: A daily post on the current prompt, all month long.

In the Wilds of Internet-Land:

Life Stuff:

  • With our vacation getting closer, most of the focus will be on getting ready to go.

Aglow in the snow!