17. Russian Amenities

A/N:

Attention: This chapter is rated M (NC-17)

Trip and T'Pol are on medical leave until their faces are back to normal. Trip does what every good engineer does when he's bored, or doesn't he? One of Trip's ideas turns things rather hot. I'm shamelessly stealing a thought out of a Startrek movie here as well, but it just fit. :-)

This is also where things get a little more smutty. It's my first attempt at writing a full blown adult scene, so I do not know if it comes over as vulgar or erotic, we'll see. This chapter is rather domestic, with lots of slow and non-lethal activities, but the space battles are soon to come in the next chapters.

"Would you stop cleaning, darlin'?" Trip asked. "We've been here almost 24 hours already and we haven't even taken a look at the estate."

Nodding silently she joined him on the patio. Before them was a huge meadow and nearby stood a small building with big wooden sliding doors.

"Looks like a garage of sort," Trip muttered and T'Pol followed him to inspect it. He slid open one of the big doors and his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"It appears to be an animal shelter," T'Pol analyzed.

"Horse stable. It's pretty small, there can't have been more than 2 or 3 in here." Trip explained. The barrage of joy that resonated in the bond could only mean that her husband meant to bring this building back to its intended function.

"Do you intend to acquire such an animal," T'Pol asked. She remembered the rather awkward journey on such a creature during their visit to the Northstar colony in the Expanse.

"Two," Trip smiled back. "Riding with two people on one horse is not a good idea. Even if you weigh next to nothing, it's still bad for the horse's back."

"Why do you assume that I would wish to ride on a horse?"

"Because it's fun and a good workout, too. And we wont have to mow the lawn. They'll keep it short at all times."

"I doubt that we will have the time to care for such creatures. What if we have to go back into space again or leave to visit Vulcan?"

"Well, darlin', we'll have to hire an equerry anyways. It's not like we're poor people and can't afford that."

"I am not comfortable with other persons entering our private space," T'Pol answered sternly.

Damn, she's nesting. Trip thought. "Well, look darlin'. Nobody gets past the two bouncers outside the gate, so we know whenever the equerry is coming and I'll make sure that, whoever we hire, knows about a Vulcan's need for privacy. And I'll set up a strict schedule, so you won't be having any surprise visits," Trip explained and flashed her the irresistible Tucker blues, hoping that she would consent.

"It is an acceptable compromise," T'Pol nodded. "What purpose does this device serve?" she asked and pointed to a structure, sitting on what looked like a rubber mat. It had a caged fan attached to it.

"Hm," Trip hummed, inspecting the vehicle. "Looks like the former owner was both a nostalgic and an engineer. That's a hovercraft, late 20th or early 21st century design. This one is nowhere near old enough, though. At that time they were still using internal combustion engines and this one has a fusion engine."

"I do not see the logic in building a device that has been obsolete for more than a century," T'Pol said.

"It's because they are more fun than today's hover cars," Trip grinned, while he fumbled with the reactor controls. The device appeared to be fully functional. "My great granddad had some of those. We used to ride on them to the bay. Open the second door darlin', I think it's still working."

While T'Pol slid open the second door, she heard the fan starting to spin behind her. Swinging around she saw that the 'rubber mat' below the strange vehicle turned into an air filled cushion and her husband turned into a child.

Whooping and giggling like an adolescent he rode past her and sped across the meadow in erratic pattern, just inches above the ground. The bond was transmitting emotions that she had never encountered before – childlike joy.

After another wild swoop across the lawn, he brought the vehicle to a stop next to his wife. "Hop in, darlin'," he instructed with a wide grin. Logic dictated that mounting this mechanical contraption was not a wise choice, but the unbridled joy of her husband overruled all logic.

As soon as she was strapped in, Trip opened the taps and they sped across the lawn. Only humans would find it agreeable to operate a vehicle - deliberately - at unsafe velocities. The really troubling thought however was, that she found it an agreeable sensation as well. Like many of her actions and experiences in connection with her human husband, Vulcan logic had no explanation for it. After several minutes of riding across the vast sea of green grass, they came up to a forest. Only a small path split the trees, too narrow to maneuver it safely by hovercraft. Trip brought the vehicle to a stop and helped his wife out of her seat.

"Damn," he said still grinning from ear to ear. "This looks like something straight out of paradise."

He took T'Pol's hand and they started walking down the little path through the small forest. After only a few minutes of walking, the forest gave way to another patch of grass that led down to a small beach on a lake. Trip let go of T'Pol's hand and wandered across the scenery, silent, while a mixture of stunned disbelief, childlike joy and happiness hummed in T'Pol's mind, courtesy of their mental connection.

"I sense an unusual sensation of infantile felicity for the second time today," T'Pol inquired. "May I ask the reason for this?"

"When mom told me about all this, I thought she was exaggerating," he explained with a glassy far away look. "But this is better than anything I ever imagined. I have a wife, my own house, my own beach," he mused, grabbing said wife in a passionate embrace. T'Pol kept silent, letting the passion and happiness of her husband wash over through the bond.

After a while Trip removed himself from the embrace and his eyes narrowed. T'Pol had learned that this was a trademark Tucker sign for the forming of an idea. Trip started walking with long steps in rectangular pattern, muttering to himself.

"May I ask, what you are planning to construct?" T'Pol interrupted his mutterings.

"How do you know that I'm planning to construct something?"

"Trip," she explained with her typical eye roll. "You are an engineer on leave. If you cannot construct or repair something for any period of time, your emotional state will become insufferable. Since we have just taken over this estate, it is logical to assume, that you wish to add some structures for your or our convenience. Adding to that, you appeared to be measuring distances, although you employed a rather crude and therefore inherently inaccurate method. As Captain Hernandez explained, I added 1 and 1 and came up with something other than 11."

"Impeccable logic as always, darlin'," he laughed. "No fooling you; yeah, I'm building something, but I'll have you guess... uh logically deduce what it is, when I have drawn up the plans."

Dawn was approaching and the two newest members of the 'Tucker house owners club' made their way back to the house. After Trip had stored the vehicle back in the stable, T'Pol returned to her cleaning chores, while Trip lost no time and started his planning work immediately. One of the rooms on the first floor was designated to be their joined office. As both had the habit of taking work home, they had equipped this room with two big desks.

T'Pol was unable to find an explanation, why her husband insisted on performing the planning work using large sheets of paper, plastic and wooden stencils of various shapes and sizes as well as wooden drawing devices with a graphite core. By all that she knew, these methods had gone out of favor a century before her birth, but she mentally filed it away as a manifestation of her husbands fondness for historic manners and rituals.

"You have been busy with your planning for several hours now," T'Pol reminded him long after the chronometer had passed midnight. "I think we should retire now."

Trip laughed silently to himself. Their marriage was barely a few weeks old, but whenever his wife reminded him to retire, it was her way to say that she did not intend to go to sleep immediately. Having a rather healthy libido himself, Trip was nonetheless amazed by her need for physical intimacy. Ever the devoted husband, he couldn't possibly refuse such a tempting offer and followed her upstairs into the bedroom.

* * *

T'Pol woke up the next morning to find the space beside her vacated. Trip was not a morning man, so his early departure was confusing. Slightly puzzled, she grabbed her white silk robe and threw it over her naked body and went to investigate the whereabouts of her mate. She had a suspicion. Coming down the stairs, she saw the door to their office open. True to her suspicion, Trip sat at his desk, dressed in nothing but his sweat pants and was eagerly drawing and calculating away at his mysterious project.

"Obviously this project does draw more interest than your wife," she said in a mock scold.

Not saying a word and still seated, he undid the tie of her robe, opened it and grabbed her naked buttocks. Since the height was perfect, he slightly bowed down and planted a hot kiss accompanied by several slight tongue strokes bang smack in the middle of pleasure central. Breaking the kiss, he closed her robe and tied it again. Looking up into his green blushed, panting wife's eyes, he asked - "Does that answer your question, darlin'?" - and returned to his plans, leaving T'Pol dumbstruck.

"I have no further doubts," she croaked, before leaving on very weak knees to prepare the morning meal.

* * *

T'Pol entered the small meditation room that they had set up adjacent to their bedroom. After almost two days of cleaning and settling in, she had finally found time to catch up on much needed meditation. Trip had left to order materials and look around for opportunities to buy horses.

It appears that my adun settles for permanent residency in this location, she thought. There would be no other logically sound explanation for his desire to erect structures for our convenience or to acquire domesticated animals that require a great deal of care.

Further contemplation led to the realization that she had almost the same intentions. Four years of space travel, that in many cases were dominated by armed conflict, were not a prospect that either of them was too eagerly looking forward to. T'Pol made a mental resolution to discuss the topic with her mate.

* * *

"Was your tour productive?" she asked, when Trip came home.

"Yeah, " he reported. "I got all materials that I'll need, a new welding equipment as well. I dropped by a horse farm. I think I found two promising candidates to enter the Tucker stable."

"We should first hire the personnel, before thinking of acquiring any animals. Neither of us is experienced in tending to such creatures."

"Well, I think I have that already taken care of. There's a Vulcan working part time on that farm – pretty decent kid. He would be willing to take over as part time equerry here."

"Why would a Vulcan work on an Earth farm?" she asked, slightly confused.

"His name is Segal. He's one of the V'tosh K'atur, we ran into a couple years back. He left the ship together with Kov and others, after they heard what Tolaris had done to you. Since they weren't exactly welcome on Vulcan, most of them decided to stay on Earth and make a living here, since humans wouldn't mind their knack for emotions. On the contrary, it made interaction easier for them."

T'Pol cringed at the memory of Tolaris.

"I figured that a Vulcan would be perfect for the job," Trip continued. "He might not suppress all his emotions, but he surely has a better understanding for your needs for privacy than any human would."

"That was most thoughtful. I concur that a Vulcan would be well suited to the work. I did not approve of their lifestyle at the time, but since I chose a non-traditional path myself, I have developed an understanding and a tolerance for it."

"I had hoped you'd say that. I've invited him to drop by tomorrow. You can give him the third degree then."

"There is something else I wish to discuss," T'Pol started. "During my meditation I came to the conclusion that neither of us appears intent on returning to extended missions in outer space. Is this conclusion correct?"

"Can't speak for you darlin', but I certainly don't wanna return. I've had it that everybody and his dog is shooting at us. I'll still have to go out there from time to time, when I'll be test driving new ships, but I'll be perfectly happy with living here on Earth and on Vulcan."

"That is my desire, too. Will you not regret that you never had your own command? Captain Archer once told me that this was one of your most important ambitions."

"Ambitions change, darlin'. Now my biggest ambition is to live with you and hopefully having a little pointy eared baby or two in the future. I'll be happy to nail new ships together and come home to my family every evening or at least most evenings. We Tuckers are all family men."

"I would find such a future most agreeable as well, Ashayam."

* * *

Three days later T'Pol was roused from meditation by loud, rhythmic clacking sounds, coming from outside. She stood and went downstairs to investigate.

As she came out of the house, she saw her husband and the recently hired Segal, each leading a horse.

"I surmise that these are the animals you acquired?" T'Pol asked as the two approached.

"Yep," Trip answered with an almost Phlox-like grin.

"It is agreeable to see you, Lady T'Pol," Segal offered. "These are Ars Vivendi," he explained, pointing to the brown horse that Trip was leading. "and Beryoza, two of the best horses in our stable. Your husband chose wisely."

"It is agreeable to see you as well, Segal," T'Pol returned politely and mustered the two new arrivals.

"I instructed your husband in the basics of tending to their needs and we also established a schedule for me to perform the more complex duties," Segal explained and fished a small PADD from his pocket, handing it to T'Pol.

"Very well. Meet me inside after you settled the animals in," T'Pol answered politely and left the two men to their task. "

* * *

"I have reviewed the schedule, you proposed," T'Pol opened as she sat down with Trip and Segal. "I find it acceptable. Are you sure that the creature's needs are met, even if we are away for longer periods of time?"

"Yes, Lady T'Pol. If either of you is at home it is sufficient to just let them out of the stable for several hours. The vast area of grass will give them sufficient possibility to run and therefore fulfill their need for exercise. By grazing they will also satisfy most of their nutritional needs. A helping of hay in the morning and in the evening will suffice to complete their feeding. When you are not here, they will spend more time inside the stable, but they shall be engaged in a more intense workout scheme, in order to give them the necessary exercise."

"Very well, is there more, we need to know?"

"Your husband expressed his interest in learning to ride, so I shall be instructing him whenever opportunities present themselves. If you wish, I shall render the same service to you."

"I am still undecided on the issue," T'Pol answered. "I do not see the logic of such activity. There are far more sophisticated methods of transport, like the hovercraft that we have discovered. May I ask your opinion on the matter."

"My initial opinion was the same as yours," Segal explained. "I soon discovered that it is not only a beneficial activity for the horses, but for the rider as well. It might not look that way, but riding is an intensive activity, beneficial for the preservation of one's fitness and health."

"I see," T'Pol returned. "I shall try it before making my final decision on the matter."

* * *

The next day T'Pol watched her husband's first lesson with Segal. It would only be a few days before the medical leave was about to end, so Trip had decided to make the best of the available time and had scheduled daily lessons. T'Pol on the other hand was still undecided. If the latest bond transmissions, however were any indication, he seemed to enjoy it immensely.

"We shall try the trot again, Commander," Segal instructed while Vivendi changed her gait from walk to trot. "Remember; stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down, match the horse's frequency."

T'Pol observed Vivendi, who was tethered on a lunge, running in circles. She found the sight of her mate gracefully rising and setting from and into the saddle fairly enjoyable. The training continued for several minutes, before Trip suddenly mismatched the frequency of his steed. He sat back just as Vivendi's back shot upwards, resulting in a spectacular jettisoning of her rider. Trip was catapulted forward and went down. He absorbed the impact on the ground by instinctively performing one of the defensive roll moves of the Suus Manah.

T'Pol was confused when Trip went back to Vivendi and patted her on the neck – a rewarding gesture for horses – as if he wanted to commend her for throwing him off. Trip however had merely calmed her down and rewarded her for immediately stopping once she noticed that her rider had gone flying. The training went on for over an hour without further incident, before Trip called it a day.

"So what ya think?" Trip asked, fairly out of breath.

"It appears that Segal did not exaggerate. You are in a most agreeable physical condition, yet the riding appears to have exhausted you substantially."

"You can say that," Trip wheezed. "So, wanna try it?"

"I do not have the necessary gear."

"Follow me, I bought everything you need," Trip grinned. "It's not like I don't know all your sizes," he added with an lusty undertone.

"It appears you're not that exhausted," T'Pol replied in a teasing voice as she followed him inside. Segal meanwhile started to prepare Beryoza for the lesson.

* * *

"Do we need to wear these helmets?" T'Pol asked. "While the whole ensemble looks fairly agreeable, the helmet does not."

"Yeah, at least while we're still learning, we should wear them. There are no prostheses for heads."

"Very well," T'Pol relented and donned the offensive piece of protective gear. Trip went back into the house to get a cool beer and returned to observe his wife's first riding lesson.

* * *

Trip was putting the final touches to Vivendi's evening grooming, when T'Pol appeared in the doorway, leading Beryoza.

"Wait a minute, I just tuck her in," Trip said, leading his steed into the box and freed her from the head-collar. A carrot was presented as a reward for enduring the grooming. T'Pol lead her white horse in.

"You tether her here," Trip instructed. "Whenever you need to go from one side of the horse to the other, pass below her neck, never around the backside." He took a curry-comb and started to clean the fur with steady strokes. "Try it."

T'Pol took the tool from him and started to currycomb her horse. She had one hand resting on Beryoza's neck while she worked on the flank. "She is content," T'Pol noted as she picked up the animal's calm emotional state using her touch telepathic abilities.

"I would think so. She's been having a romp around the lawn all day. That's a horse's dream. How'd you like your first riding lesson?"

"It is a surprisingly agreeable activity. I shall take part in further lessons."

"Told you, you'll like it," Trip smiled as he combed pieces of hay out of the animal's tail.

"Does the name Beryoza have a particular meaning?" T'Pol asked.

"I think so. It's Russian and means 'birch tree'. I think she was given that name for her white fur and the gray pattern."

"How do you know that? Do you speak that language?"

"Fairly well even. My great granddad lived in Russia – in Provideniya Bay. We often visited him when we were kids."

"How did a Tucker came to live in Russia? I am surprised that your second forefather was still alive when you were young."

"Well, he originally came from Alaska, Nome to be precise. Only he knows how, but he ended up marrying a girl from Anadyr in far eastern Russia. Since Provideniya is sort of half way between Nome and Anadyr, they settled there, so none of them would be too far from their families. I think good ol' granddad Chuck is to blame for the Tucker stubborn streak. He was too stubborn to die, even. He was 124 when he took the final check ride west."

"How is your planning project progressing?" T'Pol asked, while Trip showed her how to instruct the horse to lift its foot, in order to clean the hooves.

"It's actually completed. The materials were delivered about an hour after our lessons."

"Is that why you left for the beach?"

"Yep, they delivered everything by barge, so we spared ourselves the hassle of carrying all that stuff across the estate," he explained and grinned. "You'll show me your mighty logic prowess tonight by finding out what it is and tomorrow morning I'll start the construction," he grinned.

"I believe we are finished," T'Pol noted after she was done scraping all the muck out of Beryoza's right hind hoof.

Trip showed her how to correctly lead a horse into the box and T'Pol took off the head-collar before offering her horse a rewarding carrot.

* * *

"Ready to blow me away with your logic?" Trip asked gleefully, when T'Pol came out of the bathroom, ready to retire.

"I shall attempt to do so," T'Pol answered in a sultry voice. She sat down in his lap, wearing nothing but her silk bathrobe, and overlooked the pile of sheets scattered around on the table.

"A structure, divided into two rooms. The walls are constructed by stacking wooden logs. A method reminiscent of the blockhouse structures commonly built before the 21st century," she analyzed.

"Correct," Trip whispered and opened the belt of her robe, revealing her bare body.

"The first room has benches and rows of hooks on the wall, reminiscent of facilities used for attire changing in human sporting venues. It is logical to assume that this room serves the same purpose."

"Brilliant," her husband praised, while nibbling her ear. He gently started to massage her boobs.

"This is not conductive to coherent thought," T'Pol protested – not very convincingly.

"I can stop, if you want..."

"I shall endeavor to prevail... despite your... distractions," T'Pol answered hastily, prompting a smug chuckle from Trip.

"The second room has benches as well, but without the hooks. On the face side is a primitive oven. The limitations of its design make it suitable only for combustible matter such as carbon or wood."

"Getting there, darlin'," Trip whispered.

"On top of the oven is a cage-like structure containing a number of crude rocks. Logic dictates that those will be heated if the oven is operated."

"Hmm," Trip hummed and continued his gentle ministrations on her breasts. T'Pol's breath became increasingly ragged.

"Next to the oven, although not physically connected, is a fluid container. Due to the separation, the fluid will not be heated. Since the whole structure is made out of wood and contains an oven, it is logical to assume, that the fluid shall be water, stored for the case of an accidental outbreak of fire."

"Gotcha! You're wrong," Trip laughed.

"Where is the flaw in my logic?" T'Pol asked in slight confusion.

"There's none. But this is a human construction – you forgot to consider the illogical and redundant options. The fluid is indeed water, but flavored water. When the stones are hot enough, it will be poured all over them."

"This would fill the room with vapor," T'Pol realized with growing confusion. "Where is the logic in that? You cannot expect me to consider such an illogical option, especially as you impaired my coherence," she mock-complained.

"Well, darlin', the explanation for that is a project for another day, because now I'm gonna make you really incoherent." With that he scooped up his girl and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. Not much sleep was had that night.

* * *

The day was still young, but Charles Tucker III was already working on his own private beach. He had snuck out of the house fairly early, eager to begin his construction work. Using the hovercraft was out of the question since either the sound of the fan or the impatient whinnying of Beryoza and Vivendi, both eager to get out, could have woken up his wife. She was still out of it from the exertions of last night, so he did not want to wake her up. When she had not even woken up as Trip wiggled himself out of their tight embrace, it had given him an idea - one involving a lipstick. Since when did T'Pol use lipstick?

"Who's damn idea was it to build a blockhouse?" Trip groaned to himself struggling to haul the next heavy log into place. He was interrupted by a stern voice from behind.

"Commander Charles Tucker III..."

Trip turned around and dropped the log, just barely missing his foot. His eyes almost bugged out. There, in the morning sun, stood his wife, naked from the waist up, giving him a mock-glare.

"uh... morning darlin'," he stuttered. "What a view!"

"I am gratified by your deep affection for me. But is it truly necessary to manifest it on my delicious parts?" T'Pol complained, pointing to the little red heart he had drawn on her left breast with her lipstick.

Trip had to suppress a hearty belly-laugh at T'Pol's failed attempt to appear upset. It was amazing, how far she had come from being the stick-in-the-ass Vulcan, who wouldn't shake a hand, to the one awarding a silly boy-prank with a glorious view and an obvious invitation for a nice groping.

Chuckling he took the cloth and the cleaning lotion she had brought and started to remove his artwork. T'Pol sighed contently, when her husband delivered the desired gentle groping after finishing the clean up.

Donning her gray stretch top T'Pol asked for the missing explanation of last night. "You have yet to explain, where the logic is in filling a room with vapor," she asked and took the previously dropped log and hauled it into position as if it was a mere twig.

"What we are building is a traditional russian Banya. In other parts of the world it is called a Sauna or a steam bath. One sits in the hot room to provoke heavy sweating. It has a cleansing effect on the skin and helps to toughen one's resilience against illnesses like the flu. The steam enhances the effect. Many also smear honey all over themselves. It gives a smoother skin."

"So it is an elaborate process to improve both resilience and appearance?"

"Exactly. Since both can nowadays be achieved by hyposprays and creams of all sorts, most people don't use that method anymore. Hell, most even know what it is."

"Understandably. Considering what amount of construction and time to perform the procedure is needed, it appears most laborious," T'Pol concurred while continuing to haul logs almost effortlessly.

"That's the whole point darlin'," Trip explained. "One sits down and has a nice chat or... um... does other things, all the while doing something for one's health. People have become so damn effective these days, they're missing out the best things in life."

"Does this procedure require a certain attire? It would appear so because of the changing room."

"Nope, this procedure does not require any attire at all, that's what the changing room is for."

"I can see why you prefer this method over a hypospray," T'Pol analyzed bluntly, but not without a pronounced giggle-brow.

"Uh huh," Trip muttered. "Thing is, I guess it won't be of much use to you, coming from a desert planet and all."

"On the contrary," T'Pol replied. "Since water on Vulcan is fairly rare, our bodies have evolved to withstand the heat without sweating, to preserve precious body fluids. It is logical to conclude however that the heat inside this chamber approaches or exceeds the boiling point of water, so it shall provoke sweating even for a Vulcan. The cleansing effect on my skin might even be more pronounced than yours, because Vulcan skin is not designed for an atmosphere as polluted as Earth's."

"Is that why you smear that purple stuff all over yourself after showering?"

"Yes, it helps my skin to withstand the aggressive chemicals in Earth's atmosphere."

"Holy cow, T'Pol," Trip wondered. "You've erected half the wall in less than an hour and without a hoist even!"

"I was not exaggerating, when I said that Vulcans possess superior strength," she admitted somewhat shyly. "I hope it does not damage your male ego that a female completed the task faster than you."

"Are you kidding?" Trip laughed. "I would have gone stark raving mad with those damn logs by now and besides, there are other ways to smother my male ego," he said before kissing her senseless again.

"I have no doubt," T'Pol panted. "You shall return to the house. Segal will arrive in 30 minutes. There are only two days left until we return to duty, you shall use the time for additional lessons. I will follow later. Until then I continue my work here."

* * *

A week later the star-crossed couple inspected their work. The blockhouse was completed, as was most of its interior. Only some finishing touches to the oven, the cage and the water container were yet to complete. But not this day. Tomorrow it was time to meet the folks. Trip had invited his parents for the afternoon and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

"I sense apprehension," T'Pol analyzed while they were walking back through the forest.

"Yeah," Trip admitted. "My mom will love ya right away, but I'm not so sure how my ol' man's gonna react. He was never really thrilled about me marrying a Vulcan."

"Your mother told me that he will... 'come around'," T'Pol explained.

"You are more optimistic about all this than I am," Trip smiled weakly.

* * *

"Charly, Trip has invited us to his place," Cathryn announced as Charles Tucker Jr. returned from his work outside.

"Uh-hu, when are we goin'?"

"Tomorrow. And I hope you're going to behave yourself."

"Well, what do I hav'ta do? Does that Vulcan gal of his have a secret handshake or anything?"

"First of all, she's not a gal, but his wife. And Vulcans have no handshakes at all."

"Jeez, we had this discussion a hundred times. How the hell is she gonna give him a good life, if even shakin' hands is not done. Ya know yaself, that Trip needs a lotta cuddlin' an' smoochin'. I'm worried about ma boy."

"Charles! I'm really getting sick of this! Trip looked marvelous when we spoke. He seems to be happy where he is and whome he is with. And I sure as hell am happy that he's down here on Earth, with a wife and a house, rather than living on some damn starship out there, getting shot at. Wait until we get there and find out yourself before you condemn her. Do you read me?"

"Sorry, darlin'. I'm just gett'n darn anal, when it comes to my kids."

"Like all Tucker men, you do."

* * *

Cathryn directed her husband from the landing pad to the house. Having inspected and prepared it, she knew her way around. Father Tucker inwardly admired his son's taste. They soon reached the gates where they were stopped by two burly Vulcans.

"May I inquire, who you are?" Major Setak asked calmly.

"Charles Tucker Jr and Cathryn Tucker," Trip's mother answered with a nod, as Trip had instructed. She handed over her ID card.

"Very well, Lady Cathryn," Setak answered and returned the polite nod together with the card. The strange address prompted a confused stare from Charles. "Commander Tucker is expecting you. Please follow me."

"Mom!" Trip shouted, running out of the house towards his parents. He had just about enough self-restraint to motion Setak to return to his post before he wrapped his mother in a bear hug.

"Damn, boy, ya got hunky," his dad chuckled admiringly and grabbed his son for the trademark Tucker hug. Both men tried to squeeze the air out of each others lungs.

"Been working out?" Charles whispered into his son's ear.

"I'll explain later, when mom's not around," Trip whispered back.

"So where is T'Pol?" Cathryn asked – eager to meet her daughter-in-law.

"She's still at the academy. Her last lecture ends at 1500, so she'll be here in an hour or two. Let's get inside," Trip motioned towards the house.

They sat down with Trip and listened to their son talking about the events of the last months. They learned how their son lost a child he never knew about and how he proposed marriage right in front of the Vulcan High Council. A flashing light on his view screen announced an incoming transmission.

"Gotta message son," Charles Jr. noted.

"Hm, its from Vulcan on a secure channel, must be T'Pau," Trip assessed.

"Who's 'at?" his father asked. "Your mother in law?"

"No, dad. She's the boss of the High Council," Trip explained and pushed the button. The petite face of T'Pau appeared.

"T'Pau hon, how's things?"

"You are not alone," she half asked, half warned about using such intimate address in front of an audience.

"Don't worry, these are my parents. Cathryn and Charles Tucker Jr.," he introduced.

"It is agreeable to meet you. Your son honors you," T'Pau returned in Vulcan-leader-mode.

"Nice ta meet ya, too," Charles Jr returned in a very familiar, but much thicker drawl, amazed how his son flirted unashamedly with the big boss o' Vulcan.

"It is apparent that your colorful language is a paternal trait," T'Pau noted with a hint of teasing.

"Ya damn right, hon, what can I do for ya?"

"Since Admiral V'Kar is away on a deep space mission, Minister Soval suggested that I visit Earth. Do I correctly assume that this was your idea?"

"Damn right, so when's ya gonna come over?" Trip laughed.

"I will leave Vulcan one week from now. The star ship Ti'Mur will transport me to Earth."

"Well, greetings to Captain Vanik then," he chuckled

"You know him?"

"Yeah, we met him once. Isn't exactly a party animal, but he helped rescue Travis and Malcolm with that tractor beam o' his."

"I see. We will meet in 10 days time," she nodded

"Looking forward to it, hon. See ya", Trip drawled as the transmission ended.

His parents looked at him in wide-eyed surprize.

"Trip, don't you know any shame?" his mother stuttered. "You were chatting up that woman?"

Trip started laughing hysterically. "No, mom. Don't worry. T'Pol would take my head off, if I ever chatted up another woman. T'Pau's our adopted daughter."

Now the Tucker elders were just short of fainting. "Your what?" Charles managed to squeak.

"Two days before our wedding we became her step-parents. She accidentally performed some ancient ritual and we became her adoptive parents," Trip explained. "Wasn't planned or anything, but sure as hell, I'm happy about it. After all what happened with Elizabeth," Trip trailed off sadly.

"It's ok, son," Charles Jr. replied and put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Trip showed his parents the lawn and introduced them to Vivendi and Beryoza, who were having another happy romp on the vast area of grass. Both Tucker parents praised their son's taste in selecting this house. After they settled down in the dining room with another round of coffee, a thud from the front door announced the arrival of T'Pol.

"Good afternoon," she spoke softly and leaned in to kiss her husband, ignoring the audience.

"Darlin', these are my parents - Cathryn and Charles."

"I am honored to meet you," she returned and held out her hand to both of them.

"Well, nice ta meet ya too," his father returned with a puzzled glance. This was not the cold Vulcan greeting he had expected.

"You have not offered your parents the pie?" T'Pol asked, noting the absence of plates on the table.

"Well, we were waiting for you, else dad would've wolfed down everything by now," Trip chuckled

"That means he shares your appetite, Ashayam," she said, touching his shoulder deliberately where the latest bite mark shone, and left for the kitchen.

"Damn, she got some wit," his dad muttered in amazement.

"You sure got a thing for cute Vulcans," his mother teased at the thought of T'Pau and T'Pol.

T'Pol returned from the kitchen and laid out the plates and forks. Shortly after that she brought a big piece of pecan pie. Trip started to slice it and served everyone.

"T'Pau called. She's gonna come for a vacation on Earth," Trip mused as all four tore into their pie.

"Do, I correctly assume, that this was your idea?" T'Pol asked. All 3 Tuckers erupted in laughter, causing T'Pol to raise the 'puzzled brow'.

"That's exactly what that cute gal said ta him, too," Charles Jr. explained

"Great minds think alike," T'Pol deadpanned with her giggle brow raised and continued with her pie, stunning Charles into wide eyed amazement at that blatantly un-Vulcan exchange of wits.

* * *

After the pie, the two Tucker men left for the beach while the ladies cleaned up the table and went for a womanly smalltalk in the kitchen.

"Son, what's that finger crossing ya do all the time. That some sorta secret handshake?"

"No, dad, that's a Vulcan kiss. On Vulcan, you'd probably be shot at if you plant a wet one on your wife in public, but the finger kiss is acceptable."

"So, ya two were neckin' all the time, Vulcan style, while ya mom and I didn' realize a damn thing?", he laughed as the two walked towards the little forest.

"I'll be honest with ya, son. I see that ya look happy, but I know how ya were as a kid an' I know, ya need a lot of attention. Vulcans aren't exactly known for that."

"Well, dad, you've seen yourself, that she's kissing me, we're cuddling a lot too, just not in blatant view of everybody. If we'd been alone, those Vulcan kisses would've been human ones. She's just as sensitive as a human wife. Vulcans just don't like being watched when making out," Trip explained as they arrived on the beach clearing.

"I'll be damned son, that's a hoot. Own beach 'n everything. What ya buildin'?", Charles exhaled.

"Russian Banya, just like the one grandad Chuck had. It's almost complete, just some welding left inside. Gimme a hand?" Trip asked as ye yanked his shirt off.

"Damn son, what's that on your shoulder ?"

"Bite marks, dad. Vulcan females have a habit of... biting when they ... go off," Trip explained with a blush. "Just don't tell T'Pol that we had this conversation. Vulcans don't talk about that, but I want you to understand some things."

"Well by the looks o' things they're either permanent or she's been going off a lot lately."

"Well, in case you worried that she'd be frigid. Worry no more, dad," Trip chuckled as he started the welding on the water container.

"You're well catered for if ya shoulders are anything ta go by," his dad sniggered.

Father and son, both accomplished engineers, worked silently for a while, until the container was completed.

"Well, all we need is rocks then," Trip announced.

"There's enough of 'em out there."

"Lets go."

"So, son, what was that workin' out stuff ya wanted ta explain. You've become quite the hunk," Charles Jr. probed.

"Well, sometimes this or next year, she'll get her pon-farr. That's the Vulcan period, sort of. Only they don't get moody. They go all swivel eyed and frigging horny for a week," Trip explained, still in disbelief he had this conversation with his father. If that doesn't get him 'round, he'll never get the clue, he though.

"Sounds crazy, sorta," the elder Tucker groaned as they made their way back, each carrying two hands full of rocks.

"It is. She'll jump my bones like 15 to 20 times every day and she won't be nice about it. It's a Vulcan thing. They only ovulate every 7 years, so when's time, they make sure they get well laid. That's why I've been working out. When that wife of mine get's horny, I'm gonna need a lot of stamina."

Charles Jr stopped dead in his tracks. "So that hot gal o' yours will bang ya brains out for a week flat? And you're complainin' ?" he asked with a wide grin.

"Never said I do, dad," Trip laughed.

Seeing that pretty much all his misconceptions had been torn to pieces, Charles Jr. finally made his peace with his son's marriage and finally felt happy that Trip had found a better half, who seemed to give him all he needed. The two started shuttling rocks from the cliff-side into the mesh that Trip had welded onto the oven.

* * *

"Engineers!", Cathryn exhaled in mock indignation seeing her husband and son, both without shirt, carrying a bunch of rocks to the shed.

"Do you require assistance?" T'Pol asked as the two women crossed the clearing toward their respective husbands.

"Well not with that, but if you want, you could get us some fire wood. Dead branches from the forest would be nice, about arms thickness," Trip volleyed

"Will do," Cathryn answered and the two women left for the forest

"Seem to get along quite well, the two," Charles Jr. noticed.

"Well, once you know her, it's hard not to get along well with her. Problem for most people is, that they just don't know enough about Vulcans."

"Well guess you do, considerin' that you've adopted their leader. But I gotta hand it to ya boy, they both are seriously gorgeous," Charles replied.

"Well, I got your taste in women then, dad," Trip laughed.

* * *

The ladies brought a formidable heap of dry wood that Trip started to cut into short pieces using a laser. He stacked them inside, while T'Pol was talking to his parents.

"Trip, hon, its late and our transport will be here soon," Cathryn noted a while later.

"Yeah, it was nice of you to drop by," he said, hugging each parent in turn. "Darlin' will you take them to the landing spot? I need a few minutes to finish here and I'll be back, too."

"I shall do so. Please follow me," T'Pol indicated to his parents, shooting her husband the 'curious brow' before she left.

Trip finished cutting the last few branches and stacked the wood into a formidable heap inside. Taking a hand full of the log stubs, he piled them into the oven and ignited them with the laser. Taking a bucket he went down to the lake and started hauling water until he had filled up the tank inside. With his preparations complete, he left for the house, with a mischievous grin.

* * *

"Your parents have left," T'Pol informed as he returned to the house.

"Well, guess my dad had all his little worries cured," Trip grinned, while rummaging around in a cupboard, retrieving an unmarked tub.

"He was visibly more content with our marriage, when he left. May I inquire, what you are doing?"

"Preparing a nice little wellness session with my wife," he explained ominously. "Get us four towels from the bathroom, ok?"

"As you wish," she answered.

When T'Pol returned, she was clad in her silk robe, carrying a batch of towels and his blue satin robe.

"Good thinking darlin," he said, while shedding his clothes.

As the two walked hand in hand towards the forest, they conversed about the meeting with the parents. T'Pol and Cathryn had obviously gotten along very well. He also told her how his father had been worried about him not getting as much cuddling time as necessary and they expressed mutual amazement about how wrong he had gotten that. Stepping into the dressing room, T'Pol noticed the pleasurable heat of the oven from the adjacent room. As soon as she stepped out of the robe, her hungry husband made sure that she was properly kissed and well groped, painting a greenish blush all over her face.

"It is not customary for a Vulcan to experience these sensations. However I concede they are most agreeable," she panted the Vulcan version of 'I like that a lot.'

"There's more 'sensations' waiting in there," he chuckled, indicating the adjacent room with his thumb.

T'Pol laid out a towel on the bench as her husband had demonstrated and made herself comfortable, laying on her tummy. She watched Trip stacking up some more wood in the oven as the first batch had almost burned down already. She was ogling him all over, enjoying the sight of that naked human of hers, who had grown some nice muscle.

"That's some stuff I got from the Vulcan compound. They say its good for your skin," he explained softly, as he approached his wife with the unmarked tub. Scooping up some of the lotion with two fingers, he started to rub it on her shoulders and her back, causing her to sigh in content. As he approached her buttocks, he made sure to apply the lotion very thoroughly, while his mate enjoyed the ministrations with closed eyes and soft grunts of pleasure. Continuing with her thighs, he gently stroked them, now and then stealing a slight brush of a finger over pleasure central, triggering soft squeals of excitement from her. After having completed her feet - she obviously liked it a lot when he gently massaged her toes - he softly asked her to turn around, so the cosmetic work could be continued on the front side of his delicious wife.

Trip was already sweating profoundly from the immense heat of the oven, while his way more heat resistant wife showed merely some beads of sweat on her forehead. Gingerly he rubbed the lotion into her skin, paying extra attention to her inner thighs again and applied a soft grope to pleasure central, causing a gasp and a darker shade of green on her face.

Slowly stroking her abdomen and stomach, he approached the two firm towering breasts of his Vulcan dream girl and sensually rubbed them until not an inch had been without exposure to the cosmetic substance. Breathing heavily, accompanied by increasingly loud grunts of excitement, she was approaching the state of incoherence that T'Pau had warned him about. It announced the need for more substantial consummation action.

Trip went over to the container scooping up some flavored water and slowly tossed it on the hot stones, causing the room to steam up in an immense wave of heat, that even T'Pol could not take without sweating. The green-blushed Vulcan stared wide eyed at her mate, who was very ready for what she needed now, if that massive erection was anything to go by. She couldn't think coherently enough to scold him for letting her stew in that wash of immense emotions and overpowering need. But her ordeal was short lived has he lifted her up easily and settled her down on the desired impalement, while she clung to him with her arms around his neck and her legs around his body. Supporting her with both hands firmly planted on her butt cheeks, he started to, gently, lift and drop her on that favorite pole of hers. As always in a state of such arousal, she was completely incoherent by now. Her articulation skills were reduced to grunts and squeals of pleasure, her eyes unfocused. As the sweaty pair continued to work each other up in a perfect rhythm of hot passion, engulfed in the hot steam of water, she started licking his shoulder, claiming the flesh that she would dig her teeth in, once the climax approached.

A familiar howl alarmed Trip to brace for the short sting of pain as his wife claimed her territory with a bite, while he injected her with his juice of love.

Trembling from the residue of yet another mighty orgasm, she still clung to her sweat soaked mate, waiting for coherent thoughts to return. His, now limp, organ slipped out of pleasure central, while he continued to hold his mate, gently rocking and soothing her as she recovered from the onslaught of fierce sensations. It took several minutes before she came down again, still heavily panting.

"We shall... repeat this experience... frequently," she wheezed. "The temperature is most conductive to... mating."

"We didn't... mate," he teased.

"What is our next course of action?"

"Come on, I'll show you," he said as he took his naked wife outside and walked towards the lake.

"I cannot swim," she warned.

"Don't need to."

He lead her into the water, aware of her tentativeness and therefore not letting go of her hand. When the water reached waist level, she let out a gasp at feeling the cool water wash over the heated flesh of pleasure central. Stopping, he directed her to squat down, so that only their head remained above the water line. After they stood up, they slowly continued, until the water reached shoulder level still holding their hands. He drew her close and stroked his hands all over her body, to make sure, all sweat and residue of lotion was washed off his mate's skin.

After cooling themselves down, they returned to the shed and gathered the towels into a bag. Trip made sure, that the oven was secured and tilted the window, so that the moisture and residue of steam could dry out over night. Naked as jaybirds, with the robes hanging over their shoulders, they walked back home to get settled for the night. Snuggling up to each other, T'Pol had one last request, that she whispered softly.

"Trip, will you teach me to swim?"