The Ears of the Elves

By Asso

Chapter Twenty-one

My friends, Trip and T'Pol are really two bullies.

They forced me to delay a little longer the revelation of the secrets of the robe.

They wanted the footlights all for them one more time.

I beg you. Forgive me.

It is not my fault; it's their fault, of Trip and T'Pol.

But the next time they won't have their way! They won't impose their will once again!

I swear!

The Ears of the Elves

Chapter Twenty-one

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"Do you think you still have a little room for dessert?"

Trip shook his head in the 'What the hell are you babbling about?' gesture. He looked at T'Pol with a gaze slightly clouded for opposite and conflicting reasons, but all of them equally valid and that is to say on the one hand the pleasant sense of 'satiety' he felt after the gargantuan banquet and on the other hand the alarm sensation that crept into him at the unexpected and rather troubling T'Pol's question.

And it must be said that this second feeling went quickly to overwhelm significantly and not a little disturbingly the first.

"Dessert?"

T'Pol rolled about in his arms. She was not at all cold, despite the blanket had obviously rolled off the couch and was now on the ground in a shapeless heap, next to the PADD, for the umpteenth time left to wait.

On the other hand, it was impossible to feel cold, after such a lavish meal.

T'Pol nodded satisfied and pleased within herself and she had really all reasons. The meal she had promised to her Adun had truly been the meal worthy of a god, not to say more. A little bit ahead of what was planned, but... - her inner smile surfaced very light on her lips. - … all his fault, of her Adun. Once again. As always. His, and of his tantalizing and reckless gnawing at the tip of her ear. He should have anticipated that such a rash act on his part, working along with their staying stark-naked embraced with each other under the blanket and along with the dangerous way in which his hand was possessively positioned on her bare breast to hold it as in a... rather stimulating living cup, would have produced such an effect.

Worse for him. As he himself would say... who is the cause of his ill, cry himself, in the words of the Italian poet Dante Alighieri, so much liked by him.

Oh sure! Because her T'hai'la was cultured, and not a little. But he did not show it. He said that it did not squared with the image that others had of his personality and it would have looked rather ridiculous in the eyes of these others. The brusque and rough engineer that for all he was... who knew of poetry!

Well! Sometimes it was really difficult to understand Humans and, considering the high degree of humaneness that her Trip possessed... well, sometimes it was virtually impossible to understand him. Even for her!

But, with her, it was quite another thing. For her... for her, her Trip had even written poems in his own handwriting. L… love poems. And she hadn't absolutely found ridiculous such a fact, in the teeth of her being a... a... a ligneous Vulcan.

Mh, not precisely ligneous, to be honest.

Damn of an Adun, who knew how to make extremely soft and flexible the wood with which she was supposed to be made!

Really worse for him! He truly had deserved all the ill that he had caused himself with his own hands. And... with his teeth.

Even if… mh, even if, on second thought…

Worse for him? Well, most likely... mh, no no... it was more appropriate saying for certain... he wasn't then so displeased to have provoked to himself an ill of such a sort. Actually he had appeared to savour with great relish the meal she had served him. And... ahem… honestly, she too had quite happily tasted the... the veritable banquet she had set for him. And… oh well! For herself, too. Surely!

Truth be told, she had proven to be… ehm… rather greedy.

Well, necessarily. It's not that her Adun had remained on the sidelines. Namely, once she - triggered by him, certainly, but she had to honestly admit that he was right in saying that he hadn't then had to strive hard to set fire to the powders - had kicked off, he had actively participated in setting the meal and... and he too had a way with dishes and courses. And how! In fact he was a cook... superfine! And was definitely a master in presenting courses and dishes with a lot of... imagination. And well seasoned. And flavoured. And... spiced, too.

Decidedly... tasty.

Oh yes. It had been a quite satisfying meal.

And invigorating.

Of course, she now felt rather tried. Certainly... well... certainly a little more tired than before, inevitably.

And nevertheless... nevertheless...

With a little bit of break...

The... the matter was that she loved the way Humans were accustomed to ending the meal, when possible.

Whit a sweet.

A dessert, able to adjust once and for all... the appetite.

And even this was his fault, of her ineffable T'hai'la. Wasn't it him, by chance, who had made it so that she had ended up appreciating the pecan pie?

Although... it was not exactly the pecan pie what she was thinking about now as a dessert.

And indeed, a little place for... a dessert of such a kind... well, she still had sufficient room.

And her Adun was really good at preparing and... serving adequately the dessert.

With fine artistry.

Whether it was pecan pie or other type of dessert.

With a visage that might have seemed that of a cherub, well wrapped and well warm in Trip's embrace, snuggled on his lap, T'Pol looked up at his timorous and worried face and replied seraphically to the implied and worried question of the most dumbstruck and most worried of T'hai'las.

"Dessert, yes. You know, that sweet you Humans are in the habit of savouring, when you can, at the end of the meal." T'Pol wrapped herself voluptuously in her Adun arms like in a blanket. "A very nice habit, I must say. I really wouldn't mind at all finishing our banquet with a worthy dessert."

Her bewitching dark gray-green eyes shone with crafty mischief, as her voice was the sound of the most serious seriousness.

"The abidance with this exquisite custom would really be a tangible sign of the respect and obedience that a respectful and obedient Vulcan wife as I am has the duty and the pleasure to show for her human husband. Therefore, I renew my question, my Husband and Lord. Do you have yet a little room for dessert?"

For a few moments, Trip stood speechless, with his eyes wide open in disbelief.

Then a kind of stunted babble was heard from him.

"But... but... but... we... we... we... weren't... weren't... weren't y... y... y... you tired?"

T'Pol rolled up into a ball like a kitten on Trip's lap and in his arms and, closing her eyes, she almost seemed to purr just like a kitten, in her answering.

"I was and I am. But the meal was definitely invigorating and it would be really a pity not to finish it in the most worthy way."

And this time there wasn't any babbling on Trip's part. There was a veritable explosion of words.

"T'Pol! You are a tireless Vulcan, but I'm only a poor Human! I cannot ..."

T'Pol opened her eyes and, looking up at her human husband from her screwed position on his lap, she cut him off in a way halfway between sly and impatient.

"From past experience, I have excellent reasons to believe that you, my Husband and Lord, have highly efficient and rapid recovery capabilities. Maybe ..." And she literally winked at him. "... everything you need is a short break."

Trip could not help but smile.

"Ah here. A pause. Like for you before, right?"

"Right, my Husband and Lord."

"And you'd be willing to grant it to me?"

T'Pol's eyes shone with bewildered horror.

"My Lord! It's you the one who commands! Not me! I do not have the power to grant anything to you! It's you the one who can grant something to me!"

"Oh, right, right. So let's do this. I will grant you to grant me a break."

"I obsequiously obey and respectfully accept that you grant me to grant you a break, my Lord."

"Okay." Trip grinned. "Try to respect it, this time, though, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded with regardful deference. "The power is yours, my Husband and Lord. In every sense."

Trip frowned, however smiling cunningly. "What do you mean, 'in every way', my reverent wife?"

"I mean, my Lord, that it's yours the power to make sure that I can be capable of respecting the pause that you've granted me to grant you. Enough that you, if you feel like, refrain from nibbling the tip of my ear. "

Trip chuckled. "Ah sure. Understood. My fault again. As envisaged and as predictable." He scratched fondly his wife's head. "Agreed. All right. Got the hint. Teeth in their place. Okay."

"And also the hands, my Husband and Lord."

"Eh?"

T'Pol did not answer. Gingerly, she extricated herself from Trip's arms and jumped down from his lap.

Followed by his curious gaze, she stooped to pick up the blanket and the PADD.

She straightened and, standing before Trip, she put the PADD in his hand. Then she bent down and sat down back in his lap, while, at the same time, she bustled with the blanket so as to cover carefully them both with it, as he had done previously.

Finally, she took that of his arms whose hand didn't hold the PADD by the wrist and, twisting her bust a little and, in the meantime, beckoning to him so as to make him understand what she wanted him to do, she managed to make so that the mentioned arm could pass behind her back and that the relative hand could go back to end up exactly on one of her bare breasts. She fiddled a bit, so that the aforementioned Trip's hand was able to end up around her breast and hold it as in a cup, with her own hand over his to keep it well firm, exactly in the way both hands, hers and his, had done before that… hunger had claimed its rights.

Lastly, with a satisfied expression, she squatted down back into his lap, her head buried in him.

She closed her eyes, at last, and whispered, in a clearly contented tone. "That's done. Your hands, my Husband and Lord, are now perfectly in place." She sighed, decidedly smug and pleased. "If you believe, you can resume reading."

Trip's soft laugh made itself heard again. "All right, wifey. In effect, as established, now it's up to me. So, let's start again with the read and, together, with the pause I need with regard to our meal."

There was a moment of silence on his part, then his voice rose, low and insinuating. "I'll try to make good use of this pause time. According to what you yourself tell me, I should have a rather eclectic brain. Who knows if, though focusing on reading, I can't manage to... well, I am an engineer, right?... to engineer a dessert worthy of such a name. You know, it would be fair that I were able to reciprocate in some way the great care you've had in preparing the delicacies you have made me savour."

And, this time, another soft giggle was clearly heard. That of T'Pol.

"I count on it, my Husband and Lord."

Trip looked down on what little of her face that he could see, so buried against him as it was.

But that little was more than enough to show how beautiful that face was.

He knew she could not see that he was watching her. Her eyes were closed.

But he knew perfectly well that she could feel that he was doing it; he knew that she could sense the mixture of love and delighted pleasure with which he was watching her so beautiful visage.

He smiled. How could it have been possible for him not to do it?

Damned rogue of a vulcan female.

Damned, sweet rogue of a vulcan female!

More rogue than him, even!

Wonderful rogue of a vulcan female, of a vulcan wife, who knew how to play with his own words!

I count on it.

All right. Okay.

*So be it, my rascal wifey.*

Trip lowered his lips, while a slight smile continued to hover over them, on her marvellous delicate ear.

He whispered on it.

"You can really count on it, gorgeous."

Her eye, the one visible, being the other hidden against him, opened up.

The shiny dark gray-green pupil of that eye moved upwards to look at him, while her eyebrow rose.

Her voice resounded muffled from against his chest.

"I'm happy of that, my husband. However, prithee, in order to avoid from ending up, both of us, a little too much weighed down by further titbits before the coveted dessert..."

Trip furrowed slightly his eyebrows, without the smile fading away from his lips, so close to her ear.

"Yes, wife?"

"Could you distance a little your mouth from the tip of my ear?"

The room echoed with the cheerful laughter of Trip.

He lifted his head and nodded. "Sure, wife, sure. Better to avoid indigestions."

Then he composed himself, trying to take on a dignified attitude.

He focused his gaze on the PADD.

"So, let's see. Once again, where were we?"

T'Pol's eye did shut. Her voice, soft and muffled, made itself heard again. "At the ears, husband, do you remember? But not my ears."

Trip's chuckle mingled with his voice.

"Yeah sure. We were at the ears of the Elves." His eyes scanned the PADD. "Where's that phrase? That of the Nameless One? Ah, here it is."

And Trip resumed reading just from those words, the last ones that he and T'Pol had read. The words of the Nameless One.

"It's just a matter of ears."

End of Chapter Twenty-one

TBC

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Well, all things considered Trip and T'Pol are not been so greedy.

Actually, their spotlight has been rather short, do not you think?

Surely even they realize that the secrets of the robe are waiting.

So then... come on!

Next time it's up to these secrets!