Welcome to Word-High July, a chance to explore some lovely Filipino words – one each day. Clicking the first link will tell you more about the challenge, and the second includes the word list, so you can play along.
Many of these words deal with specific emotional states in concrete terms…perfect for a Vulcan woman and a human man seeking common emotional ground. I’m writing 31 sequential flash fiction installments of The IDIC Romance, my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction. Read my introductory post, “Hoshi’s Gift”, for more on the characters and the challenge.
I’m still running behind; but I’m still writing and loving it!
Standard disclaimers apply. I don’t own the characters, but they certainly like putting stories in my head. I write fan fiction for passion and joy, not money, to share what I love about this inter-species couple. My fan fiction has always been, and ever shall be, my totally free gift to you!
Disclaimer: These words and photos are from a lovely article by BuzzFeed titled “36 Of The Most Beautiful Words In The Philippine Language”. All credits goes to them.
That takes care of the essentials, so on with story #4. The aftermath of a wild night T’Pol scarcely remembers.
If you like this story, stop in at my fanfiction.net page, where you can find many more TnT stories.
Rated PG-13 for suggestiveness and mild language
T’Pol awoke to the slow steady music of a human heart, the cool of human skin, and the scent of a human man who had called her tinatinga and ashayam – his special one, as he was hers.
But was this real? Or was she lost in dream, memory, or delusion? There was the residual icefire in her blood – there had been trellium. Logically, she couldn’t trust her own memories while she was affected.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Trip’s arm curved over her hip, fingers tracing an intriguing pattern upon her skin. Fascinating, the way touching her body aroused her ashayam.
“Oh, is that what I am, now?”
T’Pol was uncertain what response he’d find most agreeable. But then Trip chuckled, his fingers drawing her in against him. “You wish to mate,” she whispered.
He snorted; the sudden percussive sound brought an impulse to flinch away that T’Pol repressed.
“Like hell I do!” His hands moved down either side of her spinal ridge, teasing the appropriate neural nodes as he encountered them. T’Pol knew she would never tolerate such intimate touch from any other man, but he’d learned her as well as Enterprise’s engines. “I don’t want to mate with you, pepperpot, or even ‘explore our mutual sexuality.’ What I want more than anything is to make love with you, as sweet and as long as we can manage -” He made a small groaning sound as she arched into him, instinctively offering herself. “But firstlet’s have breakfast in bed -”
“Breakfast – in bed? Why would we choose to do that, rather than go to the Mess Hall?” A tangle of human emotion shivered through the bond, touching the memory of a dream – or, perhaps, reality?
Trip smiled as though there was nothing amiss. “I’m going to love showing you all the logical reasons for doing illogical things, now that I’m your tinatangi, and you’re mine.” He kissed her nose. “But first, I’ve got to visit your head and take a quick shower, then we’ll see about breakfast. Here’s something for you to do while I’m out of targeting range.”
He held the PADD out to her, still smiling, still concerned, his eyes acquiring the same aspect they had when he was assessing his engines. T’Pol would find it agreeable to ease his mind, but she didn’t yet understand the nature of his unease. She took the PADD, and his fingers lingered for an additional four seconds, so that she could brush the backs of hers over them.
“You all right with me being out of reach for five minutes, tinatangi?”
“I am Vulcan, tinatangi. I’m capable of waiting even when I don’t find it agreeable.”
He nodded. “Good. I wait much longer, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”
T’Pol watched his retreat, finding pleasure in his unclothed form marked by their shared intimacies. She had thought he would never again mate with her. She was inclined to join him in the shower, just to prove to herself that he was indeed here, with her, her ashayam, her tinatangi. But there was no logical reason to doubt it, when the scent of their couplings was heavy in the air. Comforted, T’Pol engaged the PADD.
It displayed the menu of Filipino words Hoshi had compiled for them. One was highlighted.
“Gunita. A memory or recollection.” There was another folder open; it was labeled “T’Pol’s Insurance Plan.” Clearly, Trip intended her to study this material, as well, since she’d created no such directory.
The folder contained an order of medical rest leave – for her, and for Trip, as well. The reason was listed as exhaustion, with a notation that they not be disturbed for two days.
The other documents were copies of her commissioning and confidentiality agreements, signed by Captain Archer – last night, at 1918 hours.
T’Pol attempted to recall last night’s events; everything beyond the wholly sensory was inaccessible to her. Clearly, Trip’s human gunita was superior, in this instance. So she took the most logical course of action. She closed her eyes, and simply breathed in their mating- no, their lovemaking. He was her ashayam, her t’hy’la, her tinatangi. He was here. He was hers. She was his.
Trip emerged, wearing only a towel and the proof of her ardor. Before she could become lost in her desires, and his, T’Pol asked, “What happened in the Captain’s Mess last night?”
This round definitely goes to the lady. There’s some tasteful skin here; be warned.