A/N: I can't write a love scene to save my life, but even so, this chapter is one of the reasons this story is rated R. Parental discretion is advised.

Day 21

Trip hesitated outside of T'Pol's quarters. He hadn't wanted it to come to this. In fact, he wasn't entirely convinced that neuro-pressure would help his insomnia this time. The dreams that kept him awake at night were no longer about his sister, but about a shapely Vulcan science officer who was about to be touching him in a most intimate manner. He gulped and reached out to press the chime.

The door slid open before he got the chance. He stopped dead at the sight of T'Pol in her pajamas. God, but she was beautiful. He was a particular fan of the red pajamas, which was what she had chosen to wear tonight.

"Commander," she said, acknowledging him with a nod of her head. "If you would please make haste. If you are seen entering my quarters – "

Trip stepped inside of her room and shut the door behind him. The setting was eerily reminiscent of T'Pol's quarters aboard Enterprise, especially with the candles lit. The candles offered the only light, and if Trip closed his eyes, he could pretend that it was months ago, before they had slept together, before his life had gotten so damn complicated. But it would only be pretending, and his body refused to go along with his mind's decision. Already it was reacting to her presence.

"If you would kindly disrobe," T'Pol said. He made note of how her voice faltered at the last word. She took a breath, and he could sense her unease. He couldn't explain it, but he could tell that she was feeling as apprehensive as he was.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he said, but he made no move to leave. His body simply refused to obey, not that he wanted to leave anyway. But he couldn't do what he really wanted to do.

T'Pol shook her head. "You need sleep, Commander. If this is the only option, then we should proceed."

Trip held his breath and removed his shirt, tossing it onto the floor by her bed. Her eyes drifted downwards but quickly returned to meet his, and the atmosphere between them became instantly charged. Trip licked his lips and waited for instructions. He wasn't sure which posture they would start with, and usually T'Pol would tell him what to do. Lie down. Kneel. So he waited.

But she said nothing. Pretty soon the silence became electric as the two of them simply stared at each other. He noticed that her pupils had dilated, that her eyes were obsidian. His own breathing had become labored. His brain was beginning to fog.

He took a step forward, and T'Pol sprung forward as if propelled by some unseen force. Suddenly she was in his arms. Without thinking, his arms went around her, drawing her closer.

"T'Pol, I – "

She kissed him. He responded before his brain fully registered what was happening. He kissed her hungrily, passionately, desperate to suck the breath from her lungs. Her tongue slid along his bottom lip and he opened his mouth, anxious to deepen the kiss. He'd wanted this for so long. He dreamt about it every night – touching her, kissing her, devouring her. But they had to talk about this. He didn't want a series of one-night stands, however mind-numbingly passionate they were. He wanted a relationship with her, no matter how impossible it seemed, because it was his opinion that nothing was ever impossible.

Reluctantly, he broke from the kiss, breathless. T'Pol whimpered indignantly, and Trip felt his groin respond accordingly. He rested his forehead against hers. "T'Pol, we need to talk about this."

She kissed him again, and he let himself indulge for a moment before pulling back once more. "Please, T'Pol."

"We will talk tomorrow, Trip," she said. Her voice was heavy with something Trip feared to name. "I promise. But for now, please, I just want to feel."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Trip suspected she was lying, but at the moment, he didn't care. He lowered his lips to capture hers in another passionate, soul-melting kiss. He could kiss her all night, and if that were all he'd ever gotten, he probably would have been content to do just that. But since he'd had so much more, he wanted more. This just wasn't enough.

He probed her mouth with his tongue while he fumbled with the buttons on her pajama top. Without breaking their contact, he pushed the top off her shoulders and pulled her towards him, relishing the feel of her bare chest against his. He felt her nipples harden and moaned into her mouth.

She had taken the initiative again, and he loved it. But now it was his turn. He pushed her backwards until she met the edge of her bunk, but the momentum caused her to fall onto the bed. He covered her immediately, pressing her body further into the mattress and sucking on the exposed flesh of her throat. She moaned in response and he pulled away to look at her.

He absentmindedly reach up to cup her face as he leaned in for another kiss. She brushed the tips of her fingers against his temples. And suddenly, Trip felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams. His head exploded in a cacophony of sound, an excess of emotions, a blinding flash of light and colors. He could see the music, hear the colors, taste the emotions – not only his but hers, too. They were connecting, bonding, becoming one.

His last thought before he succumbed to a lust-induced haze was, It's about fucking time.