The Ears of the Elves
By Asso
Chapter Twenty
I know, I know, my friends. You were waiting for me to reveal "the secrets of the robe."
But, what do you want? Trip and T'Pol have claimed their space here.
And they are stronger than me.
But fear not.
These "secrets" will be revealed soon.
The Ears of the Elves
Chapter Twenty
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"It was supposed that, 'before', we should have had to solve the riddle of the fable."
With closed eyes, T'Pol stretched herself out rather sensuously into Trip's arms. Without opening her eyes and mumbling unintelligibly with closed lips, she pondered for a moment if she should proceed with covering herself up at least a little, to tell the truth rather lamely, not to say listlessly, almost as an automatic conditioned reflex. Then she decided that it was much more pleasant to keep on staying stark naked in the circle of his arms, wearing just them and their warmth.
She opened just an eye, lifting lazily the eyelid, and arched the related eyebrow, watching him with a seraphic expression.
"It was supposed to be so, but 'someone' decided to... mh... to set fire to the powders."
Trip chuckled into her ear. "Ah, so it would be my fault?" And, right after, he nipped its tip, causing a delightful frisson in T'Pol, who abruptly lowered eyelid and eyebrow and resumed to keep hermetically closed both her eyes, brazenly abandoning herself in the pleasure of his gnawing with a shameless, voluptuous, long sigh.
Well away even from the mere idea of opening her eyes and equally well careful not to make ill-considered movements, even slight, that could be of harm to her extremely satisfactory position, she retorted in a low voice and with quiet casualness, as if she were simply stating a logical assumption, valid and well-grounded per se. By definition.
"It's always your fault."
"What?"
T'Pol opened again idly her eye and looked at Trip with studied seriousness.
"Would you perhaps deny having treacherously enmeshed me ever since our first encounter? At San Francisco airport? Even without you being even aware of my presence? Basely taking advantage of the seductive power of your smell?" (^)
"Huh?"
"And having consistently and virulently forced me to think of you and... of everything I would have liked you to do with me, in spite of my will not to think of you and of everything I would have liked you to do with me?" (^)
"Huh? But ..."
"And having fraudulently and slyly induced me to seduce you, indecorously, in spite of any good rule of vulcan and human decency?"
"W… what?!"
"And having led me to think it was even possible to break the sacred rules of the vulcan marriage taken out by me with my regular betrothed, just to continue to secretly have your... attentions?"
"Huh? B... but…"
"And having stubbornly and adamantly persecuted me in my secret thoughts, in spite of my decision to devote myself entirely to the rediscovery of my true vulcan roots with the study of the writings of Surak?"
"Oh! But I…"
"And having cravenly left me alone on Enterprise, to consume myself in my constant yearning for you?"
"Ah… oh… I…"
"And having despicably made leap my heart in my chest at seeing you slip along that subtle wire suspended in nothingness to come to save Enterprise and… me?"
"Eh? But I…"
"And having made me die of anguish at seeing you lose your grip?"
"Huh? You didn't seem to me..."
"Another of your faults. You didn't even notice the anguish that you had me feel."
"Oh but… T'Pol!"
"As if it had not already been enough the anguish you had me feel when you were about to die for the outbreak of the engines and, to fill the measure, also on another time, for the deadly virosis that had infected you and Oshi."
"But T'Pol! Sweetheart! I..."
"And I spare you, because at the very thought I feel… I feel like dying, the anguish…" And here, T'Pol's voice cracked and her eye closed. "… the anguish that you had me feel when we... when we found you in that... in that state. And the anguish you had me go through afterwards, all the time you've been struggling between life and death." (^^) (^^^)
"Oh T'Pol!"
"But…" And here, T'Pol's eye came open again as well as her eyebrow rose one more time. "…leaving aside this particular circumstance and also the anguish that, once again, you have forced me to suffer with your latest exploits incidental to the King ... "(^^^)
"What? But... but... but T'Pol!"
"...and returning to your… "And here, T'Pol's voice gained force and also the other eye came open to keep company to the first, both of them manifesting her total reproof, as her eyebrow kept on staying raised definitely reproachfully. "…guilty behaviour, when you enjoyed playing the hero to save Enterprise and me..."
"I enjoyed playing the hero?"
"…would you perhaps deny being surreptitiously penetrated so deeply inside me up to the point of pushing me, when finally you came back safe and sound to me, to kiss you in full light, oblivious of the public place where we were and of the indecorum and the dangerousness of such a gesture?"
"Hey! But T'P..."
"Purposely and deceptively letting me believe to be on the verge of losing you another and definitive time?"
"Well! Y… yes, but..."
"Dragging me to say blatantly to you that I wanted you back with me?"
"O… okay, but..."
"In practise to ask you, and with facts even more than with words, to be definitely mine?"
"Huh? Well..."
"And to make me definitely yours?"
"H…uh?"
"In defiance of all my vulcan pride?"
"Huh? Oh, but... but…"
T'Pol raised also her other eyebrow, as her reproving expression was growing definitely more accentuated, but without changing her position, leaving discretely aside the fact that she curled up a little more into Trip's arms.
"Would you dare deny all these faults on your part, my dear husband?"
"But... but... but... T'Pol!"
T'Pol's eyebrows went down, not too much, to say the truth, especially for one of them, as she kept on staring at Trip with a look that had turned definitely accusatory. But also as she snuggled up to him in a decidedly tangible manner.
"Would you dare deny being guilty of having led me to be crazy about you to such an extent, my dearest husband?"
For a few moments Trip was too busy in the undertaking to close his mouth to be able to say something. Then, finally, despite some ominous creaking of the temporo-mandibular joints, he made it.
He managed to respond.
First with the eyes. That laughed.
Then with the arms. Which clasped strongly T'Pol.
Then with the mouth. That laughed even more than the eyes.
And finally with the voice. Which spoke laughing.
"Unconditional surrender, T'Pol! Unconditional surrender! I admit all my faults!"
T'Pol nodded with placid appeasement. "Very good. On the other hand, logic couldn't admit other options."
And, this stated, she closed her eyes again and huddled if possible even more against Trip. Head, shoulders, arms, torso, pelvis, thighs, legs, feet. All of it.
Then, comfortably positioned in this way, her eyelids quietly lowered on her composed visage, she proceeded to affix the final seal.
"So, husband, on account of the previous occurrences, it is quite clear that it is your fault also in the case of the just passed contingency."
Trip replied with conviction. "Obvious. Logical."
"And it is to be believed, with sure informed basis, that the same will be for any future evenience."
Trip's head nodded vigorously, going to stop with its chin against the crown of that of T'Pol, practically entombed in his neck. "More than obvious. More than logical."
He felt her cheek rub against his skin, while even her head was moving, nodding again.
"A very satisfactory attainment of commonality of ideas, husband."
And with that, T'Pol fell silent, at last.
The same did Trip. But after a few moments he raised a hand and tapped lightly with its knuckles on the head of T'Pol.
"Hey, sweetie! Okay, okay. All true, all flawless. As logic dictates. But, if you allow me, not that the powders to which I have given fire took much to burst into flame, after all. Neither now nor before. And - I am pretty sure I am not mistaken - not even in future."
T'Pol's voice rang out with a noticeable shade of bored impatience, as if to say that she was rather tired of having to keep repeating over and over the same things.
"Do you remember by chance, my Husband and Lord, that small, insignificant detail relating to the obedience that a Vulcan wife owes to her husband?"
And she did not budge one only millimetre from her position in saying that.
"Ah, understood. A trivial matter of due obedience, is not it?"
"In effect."
"And... nothing more?"
T'Pol pressed herself blissfully against Trip, into his arms. She made of herself, literally, a sort of ball of warm and palpitating flesh all on top of him.
"Of course, a vulcan female can be more or less glad to obey her husband."
"And... in your case?"
"Let's say that, in my case, obeying is not without pleasantness."
"Let's say so?"
T'Pol opened her eyes and lifted her head a little. Not much. Just enough to allow him to see the light that she knew that was shining in her gaze. A pale glare of the light that shone in her heart.
"Let's say so."
Trip did something that was halfway between a smirk and a real smile.
T'Pol raised back her eyebrow just an instant and then lowered her head to his neck, her eyes closed peacefully again.
But she opened them again abruptly at the vigorous sound of his voice.
And with good reasons.
And it can not be said that there wasn't a thin vein of dazed awe in them.
Fully justified, in truth.
"Well, well, well. We will have the way to further test your propensity to comply with the vulcan rules of the womanly marital obedience farther ahead in the course of the evening, my dear, submissive vulcan wife."
At these words, T'Pol untangled impetuously herself from Trip's arms and straightened quickly to sit on the sofa, crouching down over her solid and shapely backside, with the legs bent beneath it, just next to him, at his side.
And fully naked. This has to be recalled.
With her hands on her hips, slender yet curvaceous.
Naked.
With her firm breasts well erected in full view.
Naked.
And with her eyes fiercely pointed at his face, turned towards her with a sly smirk on the mouth.
"Trip! What do you mean?"
A slight, prolonged hiss. That was the answer. A whistle. Coming from Trip's lips. As his eyes were turning widened a bit and started to sparkle archly, lingering on her whole figure with blatant and roguish admiration.
"Hey, you want to go straight to the veritable meal, eh T'Pol?"
"Huh?"
"Well, you know. We have enjoyed the appetizer, but not the real meal."
"Eh?"
"Oh sure. The meal, I mean, that we said we intended to do. You see, all things considered, having had the opportunity to enjoy an appetizer I dare say more than fine, I thought to get on with the reading of the fable for a while yet, just as planned, before moving on to the actual scheduled meal. But..." He grinned mischievously. "... if you put yourself in this position, it turns rather difficult for me to resist the temptation to immediately sink my teeth again into my favourite titbit."
And he made snap abruptly his head ahead and gently and softly sank slightly his teeth into the bare flesh of T'Pol's shoulder.
T'Pol's eyes widened under his attack. Her arms collapsed inert along her sides.
"Tr... Trip ..."
"Yes?... mh…. what... mh... is there?" Between a small bite and another.
"Aren't you... aren't you...?"
T'Pol closed her eyes, as Trip's lips played with her skin and his teeth with her flesh.
"Mh... what?"
"Aren't you..." The words died out in her throat and her eyes burst open dramatically, as she felt his hands encircle her breasts and his fingers take to mess around with her nipples.
Gasping, she snapped back, snatching away her shoulder from the impudent teeth and lips of him, as her hands grabbed his frantically by the wrists and vehemently detached them from their target.
Breathless and with her wide eyes staring at his roguish face, she strove to finish, stammering, what she had tried to say.
"A… a… aren't… aren't you… aren't you tired?"
"What?! "
Just this single word in response. Then Trip's shoulders began to wince into a loud and sonorous laugh and, when at last his burst of laughter quieted, his wrists still imprisoned in her timorous hands, he watched T'Pol with a look that managed to be simultaneously teasing and tender. And cheeky. And enamoured.
"Oh my goodness, T'Pol! As that fine fellow of our dear Nameless One would say, I really do not think it's possible to get tired of you!"
He, then, chuckled, without showing the smallest sign of wanting to attempt to free his wrists from her grasp. He enjoyed a lot feeling the slightly trembling hold of her hands. It spoke volumes, their almost imperceptible quivering.
"It would be impossible for anyone, T'Pol. And, least of all, for me."
He smiled mischievously, as his eyes wrapped her soft, naked forms.
"And that's your fault, my delightful vulcan doll."
And T'Pol started to turn dark green, that's to say that, like the Princess, and, like her, without being able to do anything to prevent it, she flushed.
With pleasure.
She swallowed visibly and looked down.
Then she lifted her gaze to look at Trip with two eyes that would have been the envy of a gazelle.
She squeezed his wrists.
"Trip, I... I, however ..."
Trip smiled sweetly. "You're a little tired, sweetie?"
"Y... yes!"
"Eh understandable." He smiled a smile such that the smile of a mischievous fox would appear less roguish by comparison. "When you engage yourself in something, you commit yourself really thoroughly, my girl!"
Then, as his eyes basked in the phosphorescent green colour that T'Pol's ears had assumed at hearing his words...
"So, after the starter, no actual meal? And..." He winked. "...and your vulcan womanly marital obedience?"
T'Pol snapped boisterously. "I am obedient! I've already shown it and I'll show you it again!"
"Ah. So, the veritable meal will come?"
T'Pol released Trip's wrists and raised both her hands to his face. They took it softly and gently, one hand for each side, as her eyes stared at him tenderly. But with an unambiguous voluptuous hotness, too. And inviting. And promising.
"Give me a little break, Adun, and I will make you enjoy a sumptuous meal. The meal for a king."
She brought her face close to his.
"For an emperor."
Her lips rested, slight, on his. They sighed, slight, on his.
"For a god."
And this time it was Trip the one who visibly gulped.
His Adam's apple went up and down.
He raised both hands. He waved them a little in the air, as if he did not know what to do of them.
Then, he pulled himself together. His hands came to rest on the soft, bare thighs of T'Pol, the most logical place, at that moment, where they could desire to find peace.
He smiled, a little forcibly.
"Ooookay! I count on it!"
Then his smile became his usual priceless smile, the one that made beat wildly T'Pol's heart.
"Okay, sweetheart. Interval end. We had a coffee break and later we will dedicate ourselves to the real meal. This is definitely established. Now, let's get back to work. The fable is waiting for us. But ..." He gave a sly wink to T'Pol. "... nothing prevents us from preparing ourselves carefully for the sumptuous meal that you promised me."
He smiled again, impishly. "Let's not lose focus, avoiding at the same time getting sick."
He got up, leaving T'Pol, still in the same position, watching him from below with curious eyes.
He, of course naked just like she was, remained stood straight for a moment looking at her, still smiling, then turned and headed resolutely toward their bed.
He bent over it, grabbed the blanket that was on it, pulled it away from the bed and, with that in hand, turned around and walked briskly back toward T'Pol, who, still crouched on the couch, was beginning to understand.
He stopped in front of the sofa, before T'Pol, waving the blanket in front of her and with the most beautiful smile in the world on his face.
"There."
He threw himself down on the couch beside her. He pulled her to himself, very tightly. With attention and sure mastery, he wrapped both of them in the blanket.
He looked at her craftily. "What do you say, honey? We'll be warm, this way, but ..." His eyes twinkled maliciously. "...I really believe that we will not lose at all our concentration." He winked at her. "Do not you think?"
T'Pol took on a totally vulcan-like expression. "Let's see."
Her voice was serious and professional. She carefully rubbed against him under the blanket. Then she snuggled very closely to him, making sure that there was the highest possible contact between their bodies. Finally, she nodded with conviction and gravitas.
"Yes. The test has to be considered positive."
With equal seriousness, Trip nodded. "Ah, very well. So ..."
He turned his eyes and tracked down the corner of the sofa where the PADD had remained quiet waiting patiently.
He retrieved it, pulling out his arm from under the blanket, and placed it accurately in front of their eyes, so that they could be able to read what was on it.
"I would say that it is time to resume reading, sweetie. Only... mh... something is still missing. You know, we need to keep our concentration to the maximum level."
And his other arm wrapped T'Pol from behind and settled down so that its hand went to end up directly on one of her breasts.
The hand enveloped the breast as in a cup and its palm ended up to lie squarely on her nipple.
The pleasant turgidity of the nipple was perfectly perceptible against the palm of the hand, as well as, it is to swear, the stimulating touch of the palm was fully noticeable by the nipple, not to mention the sensation that the breast felt in its entirety due to the contact with the hand all around it.
And, in fact, T'Pol's reaction turned out to be at all indicative in this sense.
"Trip!"
"Is it unpleasant, wifey?"
But might it ever be possible to show a smile more impertinent and roguish than his?
"No! Not at all! But..."
"But?"
"It is… distracting, here!"
"What do you mean, with that 'it is distracting'? Would you say by chance that it is counterproductive in order to keep alive the attention for our meal? That seems to me rather strange."
"No! Not for... for the meal."
"Oh? And for what, then?"
"It is... it is hard for me to focus on reading, if you... if you hold me like that!"
"Oh, I see. That's fine on the one side, but on the other..." He chuckled. "For the contradiction that does not allow it."
He took ostentatiously a deep breath, as if to say 'Okay. I resign myself'.
"All right, then. Perhaps, at this time, it is better to concentrate on reading. Maybe for the meal is enough for us to simply remain so, in the heat, tight to each other, naked, under the blanket. I'm sorry, honey. You know it. I am a poor Human, devoid of the sacrosanct, vulcan sense of measure you have. And I always exaggerate."
And T'Pol felt his hand begin to withdraw haltingly from her breast.
She snapped. From under the blanket, her hand grabbed Trip's hand and stopped it.
"Trip! No!"
He made a look of shown off surprise, as his hand remained motionless, held in place by T'Pol's hand.
"No?" With a puzzled and quizzical expression. And with the gaze of a rogue.
T'Pol raised her eyebrow and looked at him with the look of her that, translated into 'Triptical' language, meant to say 'One day or the other, I'll make you foot the bill, damned Adun'.
"No." In a low voice and with a quite noticeable hint of annoyance.
Then she sighed and, additionally, she shrugged too. She did for real, although Trip could not see it, since she was all wrapped as she was in the blanket. Nevertheless he was able to perfectly catch her motion. Per force. At that moment they were practically one only body.
And she smiled, too. This, he could see. Only a shadow, all right. A subtle shadow. But she did. And it was a smile, this, on her part, that Trip had already seen other times on her visage and whose meaning he had come to understand pretty well. In practice it was the smile with which she heralded that she was about to outmaneuver him.
And the smile, quickly vanished, was followed by the action.
Her hand repositioned accurately that of him upon what it was about to release, that is to say her breast, and then it remained well steady on his, to hold it well firm around the aforementioned breast, in full contact with it and particularly with the nipple, definitely rather hardened, now, to tell the truth.
And finally she spoke, abandoning herself totally into his arms, her head lying on his shoulder, under the blanket that enveloped them like a cosy, warm nest.
And she was serious, severe and rational and logical, in her speaking. Just like the vulcan female she was and had to and wanted to be, the vulcan female everyone knew.
And sweet and witty and delightful and entrancing, as only Trip could know and perceive and feel that she was.
With him and for him.
Only with him and for him.
The only man with whom she could and wanted to do what she was doing now.
The only man who could enjoy the enchanting mischievousness she was capable of having.
Of showing.
With him.
And only with him.
"Vulcans not only possess the sense of measure, they also possess a developed ability of self-control and I would not live up to my vulcan nature if I were not able to practice my own self-control."
Trip was standing silent to listen to her, definitely curious about where she wanted to get at. He knew she was about to make one of her awesome acrobatics of logic, with which not infrequently she was able to save both ways, to run with the hares and hunt with the hounds. Namely to justify, by means of logic, anything illogical she did or thought. And not that it was little, in truth, what out of logic she did or thought.
"Undoubtedly…" And here, another smile appeared, on T'Pol's face, before she went ahead speaking. Slight, also this time, but not too much. Unequivocal, even if it still was what you could define as a faint hint. But there was. And it looked subtly different from the previous one. "…your influence has undermined a little the bases of my self-control, with respect to… certain specific aspects. Even if…" She paused, as if to emphasize what she was saying, without, however, moving. Not at all. "… even if this same influence is what, ultimately, allowed and allows me to be able to carry out a sufficiently adequate management of my emotions, after... the problems I procured myself with my own hands in this regard."
And here, T'Pol raised a grim gaze to Trip, looking at him askance.
"And, incidentally, this is another of your faults toward me, my dear husband, since it has been my insensate desire to be capable of being for you what I thought you wanted me to be to push me to my insane act."
Trip interjected, making a smirk that was a whole program. "I admit also this fault, T'Pol. But I just can not say that, all in all, I feel very guilty about it."
T'Pol could not help but raise her eyebrow. It was... well, it was almost a duty, on her part. But that she was then really convinced of having to do it... well, that was a different story.
And Trip's heartfelt and cheerful laughter was the obvious answer.
T'Pol thought well that it was not appropriate to keep the eyebrow still raised. She resumed without replying the thread of her speech, avoiding to keep on watching Trip.
"Passing over, however, the details concerning our special relationship, it still remains the fact that I am equipped with a superior self-control. Maybe a little deficient, I admit, but still definitely high."
Trip replied with absolute seriousness. "Undoubtedly, sweetheart."
T'Pol hid herself even more in the embrace of Trip, while his hand gently was squeezing her breast, thereby providing to her, indeed, some problem of lucidity.
She sighed, trying not to show it. She had gotten into this mess, and now she had to find a way to get out of it, somehow. And honourably, in addition, as it was appropriate for the Vulcan she was and, especially, for the one she was.
Eh sure, because, the matter was that, among other things, she hadn't the slightest intention to give up the daring and delicious touch of Trip's hand on her bare breast.
It was something special, in that circumstance, on that occasion.
Yes sure. It was nice in and of itself, but it was also something more.
Yes sure. It was true that it was exciting – exciting, yes! - that, surely, it was something that was added to their being naked, clinging to each other under the blanket, to... to keep alive the tension towards what would inevitably and deliciously have been the end of that night.
But it was also a lot more.
It was the possession. The one good. The real one.
It was his saying to her 'you are mine'.
And it was her saying to him 'I am yours'.
It was the indescribable savour of an intimacy that was theirs only.
And it was... it was the subtle taste of the forbidden.
And the captivating, exciting – exciting, yes! Yes! Yes! - game of playing with sex. The one good. The real one.
Their sex.
Their love.
However, it was also true that it was distracting. It was true that it was not at all easy to concentrate on reading with... with his hand that encircled her breast so, in that way, with her nipple that responded pleasantly and yearningly to his prohibited touch.
But even this was nice. It was nice this pining she felt in being kept by him so, in this way.
So? How to get out?
How to continue staying so, in spite of what she had said to him before, not realizing how good it was to stay like this? How to continue staying so, pining deliciously in the restrained desire, in the expectation of what would come later? Justifying in some logical way the logical contradiction between her will to stay so and the fact that she had told him that she could not stay so, under the penalty to have not little troubles to get on with reading?
The way existed.
And it was a way entirely suited to her... vulcan honourableness.
Oh sure, he would be capable of catching the smell of the rat, to put it in his way; would understand perfectly, to speak plain.
But what did it matter? What importance could it ever have?
He would quietly and joyfully agree to be fooled, wholly aware of being fooled.
And delighted of being fooled.
Because he was... in love... with her.
Of the love which wanted to mean 'if you're fine, T'Pol, so am I.'
And these were his own words.
The words that he had told her so many times. The words that really meant what she was for him.
The words that said all his love for her.
If you're fine, T'Pol, so am I.
It did not matter to him anything else. Only that she was fine.
That she was happy.
To the point of cancelling himself, if it had it been the case.
In case he had thought that cancelling himself would mean her happiness.
Even if that were not true, actually.
As when... as when he had cancelled himself for her, to make room to her idiotic, blind willingness, the day... the day when she had crazily thrown to the winds her life.
And his.
The day she had married Koss.
She was on top of his thoughts.
Always.
Constantly.
Only her.
She had rejected him.
And not one time only.
She had humiliated him.
And not one time only.
And his love for her had never faltered.
So then, wasn't it entirely understandable, entirely logical, that now - now that at last she had understood, now that his love had made her free from the stupid shackles that she had built up inside herself, now that she had finally… followed her heart - ... wasn't it quite logical, quite understandable, for her to yield, totally, to her desire for him? The desire she had always harboured for him?
The desire to be held by him so, like he was holding her now?
Because the hand that clutched possessively her breast was the hand of his love for her.
But she had to do it also in the way which was befitting to her, in the way he expected from her.
Because... because he loved her for that too.
And she didn't want, could not, had not to disappoint him.
NEVER MORE!
And therefore, on the basis of all this and with her heart swelling with the happiness of his love, T'Pol completed her vulcan 'logical' reasoning.
She gave body to the 'logical' reasons of her will - of her pleasure - to stay so after saying, and rather vividly, that she could not.
And as for the fact that this wouldn't be easy... well, as her T'hai'la would have said... a problem at a time.
She raised two extremely serious eyes at him.
"By reason of my superior vulcan self-control, I believe, on an informed basis, my husband, to be able to be reasonably capable of continuing to be kept this way by you, without failing to my ability to concentrate on reading."
"Ah."
"Undoubtedly, as I said, this particular way of being held by you will presumably cause me some moments of distraction. But ..."
"But?"
"But, first, this is undoubtedly a very good way in order to keep wide awake our striving towards the fruition of a completely satisfying meal."
"Oh, sure. Logical."
"And, second..."
"Second?"
"Second, some moments of pleasant distraction don't hurt, after all. Maybe, they could even be of help to ease the tension of the reading, do not you agree, husband? I really think you concur with me because I just believe that I am not mistaken in saying that I have heard statements of this sort from you many times. I mean about the merit of distraction in some circumstances."
"Oh, absolutely!"
And - can you believe? - in saying this, Trip was able to show off the most serious of expressions.
Well, maybe his eyes, actually, appeared a little mocking, but T'Pol thought that it was not appropriate to notice it.
With the same extremely serious expression of him, she nodded.
"Very well. So" - and her hand pressed a little more his on her breast - "let's see to continue reading without setting for ourselves too many problems concerning the way we stay, while we keep on doing it."
Trip's expression managed to keep on being serious, as he replied.
"Totally in agreement, wife."
T'Pol stood for a moment to look at his teasing eyes, then she closed hers and rested again her head on his shoulder.
From there, she spoke.
"I would ask, though, my Husband and Lord, to be you the one who reads. You know, I need a fair amount of concentration to maintain a proper control."
Trip, as strange as it could appear, didn't chuckle. Simply, he merely said, "More than logical."
Certainly, however, his voice sounded rather ironical. But all in all... well, T'Pol could not certainly think that there weren't reasons more than excellent for this on his part.
Better to fly over.
Better, simply, to stay to listen to him in his reading the fable.
And to stay to enjoy the wonderful intimacy of their naked bodies entwined with each other in the heat of the blanket.
And to stay to bask in the sweet, stirring, poignant grasp of his hand on her naked breast.
Of course, she knew it well, she was perfectly aware. It would have been sufficient the slightest thing; an unexpected gesture on his part, however small; one touch of his lips on her ear, for example, and she would be lost, she would lose all control.
And in this case, not even Surak would be able to bring back her into line.
But - what a splendid way of saying! - the game was worth the candle.
And even that was exciting.
Pleasantly exciting.
And pleasantly excited yet also quiet, T'Pol braced herself to listen to her K'diwa.
She heard him mutter something.
"So, let's see a little. Where were we? Ah yes. At the..."
She sensed it in advance, but could not avoid it.
The feared slightest thing! His unexpected gesture!
Her eyes darted wide open.
But it was too late.
His teeth were already perpetrating the misdeed.
"Trip! NO!"
It was a cry bereft of hope.
Too late! TOO LATE! TOO LATE!
She was already hopelessly shivering under the treasonous assault of his teeth.
His last word got lost in her desperate invocation.
"...ears."
End of Chapter Twenty
TBC
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
You know? Is there really to be believed that not a little of the Nameless One has survived in Trip.
Do not you agree, my friends?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
(^) Do you remember my "Shore Leave", my friends? I really hope you do.
(^^) And do you remember my "Destiny", my friends? I really hope you do.
(^^^) And here we are also at "In the hall of the Mountain King". Once again.