Okay, I know this post is a day late – and I have my reasons. Mostly that I wrote a post, and hated it. So, I decided to start over – and ended up with a 2500+ word story – too long for a blog post. So I revised it, and revised again, and again – and now, at last, it’s a more suitable length.
I offer, for your consideration, my longest jot, and my first fictional one…this story takes place immediately after this scene…Trip senses something from T’Pol, and comes back to kiss her…
“Trip -” My skin heated, and I struggled to contain a pheremone release.
“Mmmn?” His voice was muffled against my neck.
“Trip.” I added a shading of sharpness, while I still could. “There’s something of importance we need to discuss.”
A fella could get whiplash with how fast T’Pol could go from delicious temptress to all-business Vulcan. But when I lifted my head to look into her huge eyes, they were glowing. Not business, then – something personal, and I smiled. “Okay, pepperpot, let’s talk. Your place or mine?”
“Neither. What I have to say is – unnerving, at best.” She tipped her head. “Someone is approaching.”
I took her elbow and steered her into the Conference Room, before anyone could see us necking in the corridor.
It was natural, now, to embrace him as humans do. I rested a hand on his chest, over his slow human heart, and tangled the other in his hair as he kissed me again. His hands slipped down my back. So human – his taste, his scent, the feel of him…my alien mate.
I broke the kiss, holding his gaze. “Trip, do you remember when you told me that humans were free to choose, and that what I wanted was very relevant – that I have a duty to myself?”
“How could I forget? The thought of you gettin’ married just because you were supposed to – rankled the hell outta me.”
“That much was clear.” I drew a deep breath; rehearsing what I might say was a far different matter than actually saying it. ” Haven’t you wondered why Vulcan parents arrange their children’s marriages?”
“Course I have. Like I said back then, the whole thing sounds illogical to me. You can’t be the only one whose marriage didn’t work out.”
“Vulcan marriages ‘work out’ if the couple fulfills certain clearly delineated responsibilities to one another and the family unit. I surmise that your concept of ‘working out’ involves a strong component of mutual emotional affinity, freely expressed.”
“Aww, pepperpot, you say the sweetest things – in the most sterile way. But, yeah. Love makes the world go round.” He shrugged and smiled. “Well, mine, anyway. And I know that’s scientifically impossible – but it’s still true.”
“Do you recall approximately two years ago, when Captain Archer was taken hostage, and Phlox and I were confined to Decon?”
“When you were gobbling up your supper with your bare hands, and busted out and ran through the halls in your underwear? That was pretty memorable, pepperpot. Must’ve been a helluva fever you had – Malcolm had this crazy story that you propositioned him – ”
She stared at her shaking hand on my heart, breathing fast, and I got another memory-burst – hot, hungry, needing, denied, desperate for escape, for sex –
“I don’t remember that, however, it’s likely true. I attempted to seduce Phlox.” It was barely a whisper, and she was shaking all over now – not her subharmonic quiver of arousal, but fear I could feel in her mind.
“Phlox? T’Pol, he’s got three wives already.”
Her eyes met mine, then jerked to the side. “He was there, and male. Those were my only criteria – if I could not reach you.”
“Me? We weren’t exactly on the best terms.”
“I Awakened to you, Trip. You are always my first choice.”
“You sure hid it well.” Why was I so nervous, all of a sudden, like this was a big deal? “So, are you gonna tell me why?”
“I needed to mate.” She was shaking so hard I led her to the table and sat her down. She didn’t resist, and that said something.
“‘Needed to’? Not ‘wanted to’?”
“Both. Need precipitated desire. Without treatment, or mating, I wouldn’t have survived.”
“You mean, you would have died without sex?”
She nodded, silent and shaking.
He ran a hand through his hair, and paced away, then back. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve- “
“Phlox thought the virus would be fatal to humans.”
“So what does that have to do with – with us, now?”
“The virus triggered a related, naturally occurring process.” I breathed deeply. “You know of the pon farr.”
“Well, yeah, but I know that you ‘mate’ more than once every seven years, pepperpot.”
“Trip, you misunderstand. If Vulcans don’t mate during pon farr, we die.”
“Come again?” Trip came to sit beside me, and took my hand in his.
I used his human vernacular. “And again and again – and many times beyond that.”
His mouth dropped open, then closed. “That’s your first dirty joke – but you’re not kidding, are you?”
“No. Pon farr requires copious sexual release and telerotic communion.”
I clamped my mouth shut, stuck my tongue in my cheek so that I wouldn’t say something stupid about ‘copious sexual release’, and how much I was looking forward to helping her out with that. “Is there someone who can help you, tell you what to do?”
“I haven’t Burned before.” She said it like it was another name for what was going to happen to her. “Phlox has developed some palliative measures to ease the early stages. I’ll know what to do -” She shuddered, and stared out the window at the stars. “The cycle is natural, for me. I’ll be physiologically compelled to mate – frequently, and likely violently. We don’t speak of it – our marriage customs assure we have mates, when pon farr commences.”
I kept hold of her hand, squeezing softly. “I guess they’re more logical than I thought. How long – do you know?”
“The active phase is approaching – within the next several months; perhaps sooner.” She sounded small and lost, her head bowed.
“You just tell me when, pepperpot, and I’m all yours. But you said ‘telerotic’ – can a human do that?” Was I going to be enough for her, when she needed me?
“We were able to bond. You are enough, and more, Trip.” She didn’t quite look at me. “But this isn’t your way. You’re human – you must be free to choose.”
“Maybe I haven’t been very clear about it, lately, T’Pol – but I already chose you – all of you.” I lifted two fingers in the Vulcan way she’d taught me.
“T’hy’la,” she whispered, meeting them with her own, and a single tear fell onto her cheek as I drew her close.