Disclaimer: The trekverse and all its characters and details belong to Paramount. No infringement intended or profit made. 

Summary: In a demented bit of Vulcan logic, T'Pol decides the best way to avoid having to kiss Trip in front of the rest of the crew on New Year's Eve is to seduce him before midnight rolls around. 

keywords: bond 

genre: smut, romance

Challenge: Holiday Fic Exchange 

Written as a gift for Aquarius. 

A/N: The story is little smutty throughout - and then gets very smutty at the end. I challenged myself to write the longest, most extended smut I've ever written. Special thanks to Kotik and one other anonymous beta. 

Here are the specs Aquarius gave me. 

3 THINGS I WANT IN MY STORY: Smut, the color magenta, and some kind of "unexpected result"

3 THINGS I DON'T WANT IN MY STORY: AU, melodrama, angst

PROMPT: mistletoe

Rating: NC-17, as requested. 

---

December 31, 2155 - Starship Enterprise

T'Pol looked into her closet and stared for a moment, trying to decide what to wear to the ship's annual Earth New Year's celebration. Trip had officially returned and pointedly asked her to be his date for the evening. The event required formal, civilian attire of its attendees, and from previous years T'Pol knew that many people came to the celebration in the company of a romantic partner. Trip had made it very clear that there was to be "no more hiding" and that this would be their official "coming out" as a mated pair. 

"I mean it, T'Pol," he had said gently but firmly, "If this thing between us is going to work, I've got to know you're not ashamed. I know Vulcans value discretion, but this is important to me." 

Although she very much wanted to please Trip, she was not looking forward to the gala. More specifically, she was not looking forward to midnight. 

T'Pol remembered back to her first year on the ship and the first New Year celebration she had attended. Lt. Reed had positioned himself next to her right before the stroke of midnight. She recalled his expectant, almost pleading look as other members of the crew had kissed, but she paid no attention to him. For reasons she hadn't understood then, her eyes had locked onto the ship's chief engineer as he had playfully dipped over Lt. Hess and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. She later overheard that Hess's absent betrothed had jokingly asked Trip to kiss her by proxy, and T'Pol had experienced relief at learning the two were not romantically involved. 

T'Pol took a deep breath. Attending this party would require her to kiss Trip in front of the crew - perhaps even the Captain. Although she and Trip had, only days earlier, shared a passionate kiss in the corridor of the ship, they had been alone. She had enthusiastically initiated the kiss to illustrate her devotion to Trip, despite the fact that Vulcan culture prohibited displays of public, physical affection toward one's mate. 

Recalling the feel of Trip's strong arms around her and the taste of his cool mouth on hers, T'Pol felt her heart thud and and blood rush not only to her face but to her more intimate regions. Breaking that taboo had been exhilarating, but she knew that if she pushed herself further by kissing Trip in front of other humans, it would feel less exciting and more humiliating. She wasn't ready to cross that line, and she didn't know if she'd ever be able to cross it.

On the other hand, T'Pol had many times noticed the habit human males had of showing affection toward their mates in public. This clearly had more than one evolutionary function. By kissing and petting his female in public, the male indicated to other males that his mate was off-limits. He also declared his ability to obtain a desirable mate to the other humans, thereby creating a higher social standing for himself. T'Pol also suspected that human females accepted such affection for similar reasons. But she was not human. The telepathic bond she shared with Trip made such primitive behavior obsolete. 

Yet, she knew that Trip would expect her to submit to his public affection. She was willing to attend the gala with him, perhaps even let him touch her in a familiar way, but she simply did not wish to kiss him in front of the others. The act was too intimate and made her too vulnerable.

T'Pol pondered their conflicting needs, knowing full well it wouldn't be the first or last time their cultures clashed. He would likely feel slighted by her if she refused to engage in this human tradition of kissing at midnight, and the last thing she wanted was to publicly disrespect or insult her mate. She had caused him more than enough pain. 

There had to be a logical solution. T'Pol closed her eyes and briefly meditated on the matter. A plan slowly formed in her head, and she set about to put it in place. The first phase of the plan required her to dress in a way that would be aesthetically pleasing to Trip. 

She turned her attention to a set of robes made from a shimmering, white and silver triaxian silk with a sash shot through with bright green threads. Trip had never seen her in these robes, she knew. She also knew that the robes accentuated her body in a way that would appeal to him. Additionally, the colors were appropriate for the occasion. Although there were no seasons on Enterprise, she knew most of the humans aboard the ship came from the northern hemisphere, where the New Year was a winter celebration. Winter was associated with white snow and evergreen trees. She also knew that silver was associated with the recent Christmas holiday.

T'Pol donned the robes and a pair of silver beaded slippers to match, along with special natural-colored undergarments that would disappear under the white. She wished she owned higher-heeled shoes in silver since human males preferred them, but the Vulcan style slippers did coordinate with her robes.

She stared at herself in the mirror, and she decided her appearance needed a more celebratory touch - something that indicated she had put more than a little thought into her preparation for the evening and that she was willingly attending the celebration.

T'Pol grabbed a silver hair comb from her dresser before slipping carefully out the door of her quarters and found her way to the ship's garden. Crewman Julia Bowers had grown a number of holiday plants and flowers for the crew, who used them to decorate their cabins, gave them as gifts and occasionally used them to adorn themselves. Bowers was a petite woman in her thirties with a mop of dirty blond hair piled atop her head. Her Starfleet uniform, as well as her face, was splotched with soil. Clearly, she didn't just grow plants hydroponically. Her eyes brightened when she saw T'Pol enter. 

"Happy New Year, Commander T'Pol" said Bowers cheerfully, "Although, I guess it's not New Year's on Vulcan. . .still. . .Happy New Year. What can I do for you?" 

T'Pol held up the silver comb.

"I seek a plant or flower to wear in my hair for the celebration this evening, one that coordinates aesthetically with my robes." 

"I think I can get you something, though there's not that much left." 

Bowers led T'Pol to a table that displayed the scant remaining holiday plants; all were still healthy and beautiful.

"So, you want something we could easily bind to the comb. . .that will pull your gorgeous outfit together. I think I've got that. Two options. You could try a red poinsettia flower, which would look beautiful. But if you want pick up on the green in your sash, you might want to go with a sprig of holly. I wish I had some white poinsettias left, that would be a great option, but Commander Tucker took all of them this afternoon. Said they were for his date."  

T'Pol took note of the information about Trip as she examined both the choices Bowers offered. Neither plant logically coordinated with her robes and shoes. Introducing the color red would make her appearance chaotic, and the leaves of the holly plant were far darker than the green of her robes and shoes. However, T'Pol noticed another plant, one with lighter green leaves and white berries. 

"I desire that plant," she said, pointing. 

"Oh, Commander," said Bowers laughing, "You don't want to wear that plant in your hair. I agree that it would coordinate with your outfit perfectly - but that's mistletoe. You don't want to wear mistletoe in your hair." 

T'Pol looked quizzically at the horticulturalist. 

"Why not?" 

Bowers explained the history, cultural mythology and traditions associated with the plant. T'Pol considered the information carefully, recognizing that it would be unwise to wear mistletoe to the ball. But that didn't mean she couldn't wear it in her hair before the ball. It would fit nicely with her plan. 

"On the contrary, Crewman Bowers," replied T'Pol, "I believe the mistletoe will be perfect." 

"Whatever you say," said Bowers as she harvested a sprig and wound it into T'Pol's comb. 

T'Pol took the comb and nodded politely.

"Thank you, Crewman Bowers."

"You're welcome. Have a good time tonight," she said. 

Not that I need to tell her that, thought Bowers. She's clearly planning on having a good time. 

---

Sometime later, T'Pol heard the chime on her quarters and she opened the door to see Trip standing there, dressed in an old-fashioned human suit of clothes called a tuxedo. Human males still wore this style for some weddings and for New Year's Eve, and T'Pol didn't find odd the black and white garments disagreeable as worn by her mate. He also carried a bouquet of white poinsettia flowers. 

"You look gorgeous." 

"You appearance is agreeable as well. Come in. Are those flowers for me?" 

"Yup. I cleaned out Bowers of the white ones this afternoon. I had a feeling you'd be wearing that tonight." 

"Thank you. Your intuition was correct." 

"It wasn't intuition. It was logic. That's the only fancy set of robes in your closet that I haven't seen you wear. It was process of elimination." 

"You have examined the contents of my closet?" 

"Only when you're trying to figure out what color catsuit fits your mood. It takes you awhile to do that - so I check out all the pretty things hanging in there and imagine ripping them off you." 

She raised an eyebrow. Her plan was not going to be difficult to carry out. All she need do was make Trip so eager for sexual relations with her that he would suggest leaving the gala before the clock chimed midnight. She believed she could do this without kissing him or engaging in any inappropriate behavior in front of the others. In fact, she relished the challenge of seducing him without revealing her intent to anyone else - or even him. 

She spun around to grab a vase off a high shelf, revealing the mistletoe in her upswept hair. 

"Ummm. . .honey. Do you know what that is pinned in your hair?" 

He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He kissed the back of her neck. She sensed him suppressing laughter. 

"I believe it is called mistletoe," she said, "I think it pulls my attire together nicely, don't you agree?" 

He smiled at her. 

"Yes," he said, "but did Bowers explain what it means?" 

T'Pol's eyes sparkled with mischief. She turned around in his arms and put her arms around his neck. 

"She said humans associate the plant with kissing," she replied innocently. 

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips. It was closed mouth at first, but then he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. As she opened her mouth to accept his tongue, she reveled in the still exotic taste of his mouth, in which mint mixed pleasantly with iron. After a long time, he pulled back. 

"Yes," he said, "When a woman stands under the mistletoe, she's inviting people to kiss her. You're wearing it in your hair. That means every red-blooded male and at least a couple of the females at the party tonight are going to take that as an invitation to kiss you." 

"Aren't the females red-blooded, too?" 

"It's an expression. Really, T'Pol, I know how you feel about people touching you - and everyone's going to be hitting the bar pretty hard tonight. I don't think you're gonna like the results of that in your hair and a room full of humans with loose inhibitions." 

"I see. I only meant the plant to be an invitation for you to kiss me," she said, still trying to sound guileless. 

Trip bit his lip. He smiled again and took the invitation. This time his kiss was hard, aggressive and gave T'Pol hope that they wouldn't even make it to the gala. She glanced at the chronometer and noticed it was 21:15. She knew that once she got Trip out of his clothes, he would be reluctant to put them back on for several hours. Blissfuly reluctant. However, she wanted him to make the decision to forgo the party.

She pressed herself to him, feeling the evidence of his arousal. 

"Trip," she whispered in between kisses, "We shall miss the celebration if we continue. I believe the Captain expects us to make an appearance. And I've enjoyed the previous New Year's galas I've attended. It was regrettable that the Xindi conflict made such a celebration impossible last year." 

To her surprise, he pulled back. He looked frustrated and a little sad, as he always did when the Xindi conflict was mentioned. 

"You're right," he said, "I'll just need a sec." 

He awkwardly made his way to her bed and sat down. She started to follow, he put his hands up.

"Baby, if you come near me, we'll never get to the party," he said, a small grin forming.

T'Pol demurely put her hands behind her back, and she waited. Hopefully, he would break without her making a move. He had to be the one that initiated their coupling, or else he might realize the nature of her plan. The bond made subtlety a must in such situations. 

"Would you take that mistletoe out of your hair?" he said playfully, "I haven't told anyone we're together - and the last thing I want is Malcolm or the Captain trying to be funny and kissing you. Both of them have nursed crushes on you at one time or another." 

She obeyed his request and carefully removed the offending plant, confident that her earlier understanding of human males and their mating practices was correct. The mere idea of other males expressing sexual interest in her triggered a possessiveness in him and that worked in her favor. But she knew that in return, she must express a desire to please him. That wasn't difficult, since she did desire to please him. She removed two of the white flowers from her bouquet, bound the stems and wove them into her comb. She then put the remaining flowers in the vase, filled it with water and placed it on a shelf. 

As she she redid her hair in the mirror, she felt Trip's eyes watching her. She made sure the flowers he had given her were positioned on the left side of her head. She had learned on a visit to Hawaii that this signified that she was someone's mate. His mate. 

"You're really beautiful, T'Pol. I'm going to be the envy of every man there tonight." 

She turned to him, again clasping her hands behind her back.

"Such flattery is unnecessary. I am confident of your affections. You are my mate," she said, lowering her eyes. 

A blush of green appeared on her cheeks, and they both felt the bond energy ignite between them. 

"I know it's not necessary, but I'm only speaking the truth. And I'm explaining why it's illogical for you to wear mistletoe in your hair. Unless you're alone with me, of course." 

"Wherever we are, my attention will only be focused on you, Thy'la," she said, "If any other person wished to kiss me, it is unlikely I would notice." 

She sensed Trip was about to make a joke, but he stopped when he understood the truth in her words. He stood up and took her arm. 

"C'mon," he said, "Let's get to the party. We'll stay until midnight and then get out of there. I've got plans for the first hours of 2156 that require being alone with you, darlin'." 

T'Pol carefully hid her disappointment from him as they walked out the door.

---

When they arrived at Cargo Bay Three, T'Pol was impressed at how the social committee had transformed the utilitarian space into an appropriate location for the gala. She knew that several crewman had helped Phlox decorate the bulkheads in lights that blinked and changed colors at random intervals, and they had set up the tables with white tablecloths. A full bar for distributing drinks had been placed in the corner, and nearly the entire crew, including the MACOs, had filed into the space. Up tempo jazz music played through the ship's sound system, and Lt. Biggs and Ensign Mayweather were handing out Tellarite poppers. The tiny, translucent gourds were excellent noisemakers. When squeezed they made a loud pop and then disintegrated into dust. Many of the men, including Phlox, wore human-style tuxedos. In contrast, the women wore dresses in colors from across the spectrum and a multitude of styles. 

If any of the crew noticed that the Captain's two senior officers arrived together, looking entirely like a mated couple, they did not indicate that they found this unusual. After saying hello to Malcolm, Hoshi and Phlox, T'Pol waited as Trip fetched two glasses of Champagne from the bar. At his suggestion, they situated themselves in a corner and began observing the various interactions of their colleagues. Trip hadn't yet shown any obvious affection for her, but he did have his free hand resting gently on the small of her back. 

She observed him out of the corner of her eye as he looked around the room. She sensed his pride in her company and his relief at no longer having to hide his feelings. For a fleeting moment, she experienced intense distress at the thought of disappointing him at midnight, coupled with guilt at all the simple, human things she could not do for him. She deftly suppressed the feeling, hiding it away in her mind where he could not access it. She knew she couldn't violate her own boundaries of comfort to please him. That would only lead to resentment. She would kiss him, she just needed to make certain they were far away from prying eyes when midnight came. 

In her mind, she scrolled through her knowledge of human sexuality, whether it be from recent experience or researched from the ship's vast database on the subject. She intended not only to make Trip choose to leave the gathering early but also make their subsequent sexual relations so remarkable that he would not feel robbed of his chance to publicly mark her as his mate.

She moved just slightly closer to him.

"You see," said Trip, "Human men all dress alike because then we know we haven't made a mistake. Human women like to stand out from the crowd." 

"They also clearly choose colors and styles to accentuate the best features of their bodies," said T'Pol. 

"You've been known to do that yourself, Thy'la," he teased, the Vulcan word still awkward on his tongue.

"It is common behavior in many humanoid females," replied T'Pol, "Notice how Ensign Sato has chosen a red dress that not only compliments her coloring but signifies good luck in her specific human culture."

"She does look good in red," said Trip. 

"Indeed," said T'Pol, "and she has chosen undergarments that accentuate the petite curves of her body and worn a form-fitting style. No doubt she wishes to remind potential mates that she is sexually attractive, despite the fact that her uniform deemphasizes her gender. Objectively speaking, don't you think she is sexually attractive?" 

T'Pol felt Trip's hand begin to caress her back and move lower down her backside. Due to their position in the corner his actions remained hidden from view, which suited T'Pol just fine. 

 "No need to fear my jealousy on this subject, Trip," she said reaching around and putting her small hand atop his and pressing it harder against her backside, "I am confident in your desire for me." 

"Hoshi's a beautiful woman," said Trip in a diplomatic tone. 

"Indeed," said T'Pol, "Vulcans do not engage in sexual relations outside our own primary orientation. Mating for life is not conducive to such experimentation. However, prior to bonding with you, I considered exploring the human capacity for - flexibility. I contemplated engaging in sexual relations with a female. Ensign Sato was one of the candidates I considered." 

Trip nearly choked on his Champagne. T'Pol knew that even the thought of two human females engaging in sexual relations made most human males weak with carnal desire. This predilection had evolutionary roots in the male's desire to test his own virility and power by gaining sexual access to more than one female at a time. Truthfully, she had only considered exploring homosexual relations for 8.2 minutes, but Trip needn't know how brief her contemplation was for the idea of it to work in her favor. 

"You considered. . .with Hoshi?" 

"It was only a brief, clinical consideration. Scientific curiosity was my motive. Of course, now that I'm bonded with you - it could not happen - unless of course you were there." 

Trip looked at her, not so much with desire but puzzlement. Through the bond, T'Pol sensed his desire being replaced by a mixture of amusement and suspicion. 

"Now you're just teasing me. . ." 

T'Pol nodded. While her words were technically true - she could only engage in pleasurable sexual relations with another person if her bondmate somehow approved - she had no desire to do so with either a male or female. He knew that. She had overplayed, and she needed to refocus her efforts. 

"You're right," she said,"but I do remember how much you enjoyed having sexual relations with those two young women you met during your time at the academy. . .the ones you met at the music festival in Palo Alto." 

Trip blushed. He was also enjoying that memory, she could tell. He pulled her just a little closer and whispered in her ear.  

"I never told you about that. I never told anyone about that," he said. 

"But just days ago you allowed me to access the memory. Remember when I wished to discover your deepest desires so I could satisfy them?" 

"I let you access that memory?" 

"Yes," she said innocently, rubbing the back of his hand, "From what I could gather, it seemed like a very pleasurable experience for all three of you. You were quite able to satisfy both girls' desire for penetration." 

"I was much younger then," said Trip as casually, "I think we should sit down. This conversation might get embarrassing."

She sensed his desire returning, and T'Pol felt a twinge of satisfaction. She had not only invoked a memory one of the most common of human male sexual fantasies, she had also flattered his virility. She was pleased with her plan's progress, and even more pleased at the idea of being alone with him.

They made their way to a table, and Trip pulled himself as far under the table as he could go. T'Pol scooted her chair close to him. 

"At this rate," said Trip, "We're definitely not going to make it until midnight."  

T'Pol gazed at him, but she said nothing. She was contemplating pushing her luck again and running her hand up Trip's thigh when Malcolm sat down at the table. 

"Happy New Year," he said cheerfully. He put his drink down on the table. T'Pol's keen nose smelled gin and vermouth. 

"Lt. Reed," said T'Pol, "You're not drinking Champagne. It's the traditional beverage for New Year's Eve, is it not?" 

While speaking, T'Pol casually removed her slipper and ran a bare foot up Trip's calf. Although it was contradictory, her research indicated humans also enjoyed hidden sexual affection in public places. The secrecy heightened the intensity of the experience.   

"It is," said Malcolm, "but the stuff gives me a splitting headache. It's too bad, too. The Captain broke out a case of the real deal for tonight." 

"It is the good stuff. Bollinger 2144. Not too dry and not too sweet," said Trip.

"So," said Malcolm, "I noticed you two arrived together and have stuck together like glue the whole night. Is this a date?" 

T'Pol recognized teasing in Malcolm's voice but behind it she heard real curiosity. 

"Yes," said T'Pol, "Trip and I are on a date." 

Trip sipped on his Champagne, and their eyes met. She also continued to massage his leg with her toes. Malcolm smiled and turned to Trip.

"How's the date going?" 

"So far so good," said Trip. 

Malcolm turned his gaze to T'Pol. 

"Commander Tucker is an agreeable companion with whom to spend an evening." 

Hoshi approached and sat down. She kicked off her stiletto heels. 

"You've got the right idea, Commander, wearing flats. I always regret heels about half way through the evening. . . ." 

"It is illogical to wear footwear that causes suffering. However, the shoes do accentuate the beauty of your legs. Commander Tucker and I both noticed how attractive you look this evening." 

Hoshi blinked, clearly surprised at receiving a compliment from a Vulcan.

"Thank you," she said. 

"It was an objective observation on both our parts, but you are welcome." 

Malcolm looked down at Hoshi's legs. 

"When your abused feet have recovered," said Malcolm, "You'll have to let me take you for a spin around the dance floor." 

"That would be great," said Hoshi, "I hear you're the best dancer of all the officers."

"What about you, T'Pol?" asked Malcolm, "Are you going to dance with your date?" 

 T'Pol found herself unable to answer. She didn't know how to dance, but she thought maybe it was her duty to dance with her mate. 

"Vulcans don't dance, Mal," said Trip, "So, we'll sit this one out." 

Her plan momentarily forgotten, T'Pol let relief wash over her. 

"I'm grateful for that. .Thy. . .Trip." 

Hoshi wrinkled her brow for a moment. T'Pol hadn't pronounced the whole word, but she knew that Hoshi probably recognized the term Thy'la from context. Besides Trip, she was the only human on the ship that knew the word's meaning. T'Pol took a sharp breath and suppressed the discomfort she felt. Trip wanted people to know about their bonding, and so now Hoshi knew. 

"Well," said Hoshi, as she refastened her shoes, "I think it's time that Malcolm and I hit the dance floor. See you two later." 

Hoshi grabbed Malcolm by the hand and pulled him over to where a group had begun dancing. T'Pol saw Hoshi, in silhouette, whispering into Malcolm's ear as they danced. 

"You have gotten your wish. Hoshi recognized that we are bonded. She is now informing Lt. Reed. Soon the entire crew will know we are mates." 

"Nah. . .she couldn't have recognized what you were going to say from just one syllable."

"Lt. Sato is a master linguist, and the word Thy'la only has two syllables. She knows we are mates." 

Trip grinned. 

"Good. I want to shout it to the whole ship. Post an all access announcement. Not just for the ship. The whole sector. I want everyone to know how happy you've made me." 

Trip leaned over, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but didn't. He instead whispered in her ear. 

"Why don't we get out of here? We can ring in the New Year somewhere more private." 

Victory, she thought in a small corner of her mind that he couldn't access.

"That would be agreeable," she said. 

They headed to the door. T'Pol glanced at the chronometer, which read 22:45. She was so caught up in her relief and pleasure at the success of her plan, she barely noticed as they nearly collided with the Captain and Crewman Bowers, who had arrived together.  Normally, Bowers wore her Starfleet jumpsuit and her blond hair piled atop her head in a slapdash bun. But her hair was smoothed long and straight, and she wore a gown of shimmering blue. She looked beautiful, and the Captain had clearly noticed. 

"Oh," said Bowers, "I love the white poinsettias in your hair. That's perfect." 

"Happy New Year, you two," said the Captain, who was eyeing them with a combination of amusement and suspicion.

"Happy New Year, Captain'" said Trip.

"Good evening to you both," said T'Pol, formally.

"Now," said Archer, "You two can't be leaving yet, can you? Stay for a bit. I made sure to have Chef open a case of the Bollinger 2144. It's supposed to be kept for diplomatic occasions, but what the hell? I'm Captain, right?" 

T'Pol glanced over at Trip. They didn't need the bond to sense each other's need to please the Captain. That's what officers did. 

"We'd be honored to share a toast with you, Captain," said Trip. 

T'Pol sat down with Bowers at one of the tables while the Captain and Trip fetched glasses of Champagne from the bar. 

"How'd Commander Tucker react to your mistletoe?" said Bowers. 

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. 

"He was . . .amused, but he suggested it would not be wise for me to wear it outside my quarters." 

Bowers laughed.

"I hope for your sake, he made use of it in your quarters." 

T'Pol's face was a mask, but she and Trip were there to "come out" as mates. So, she spoke.

"Indeed," she said softly, "he made excellent use of the plant's traditional meaning." 

Soon, the Captain and Trip returned, and the conversation turned to the recent incident with the Orions, then to Bowers's work as a horticulturalist and then to Trip's latest plan to improve the engines. T'Pol occasionally glanced at the chronometer on the wall, and she realized that they would not be leaving before midnight. She kept quiet during the conversation, preparing herself for the moment. 

She would do it, she resolved. For Trip, she would set aside her reservations and kiss him in front of the others. 

The countdown began. Everyone stood up and prepared for the big moment. 

Trip took T'Pol's hand and led her to an out of the way corner near some containers that hadn't been removed. 

10. . .9 . . .8 . . .7

At least, she thought, this is somewhat private. 

6 . . .5 . . .4.

T'Pol saw that Hoshi and Malcolm had positioned themselves with a good view of herself and Trip. So had Bowers and the Captain. 

Not entirely private, she thought ruefully, as she steeled herself. 

She looked at Trip. If she had to kiss him publicly, she was going to kiss him in a way that made it clear to the humans that they were mates. That was what he wanted, and that's what she would give him. 

3. . .2 . . .1

As shouts of "Happy New Year" and loud pops filled her sensitive ears, Trip smiled at her. T'Pol waited for him to kiss her. But he didn't. Quite unexpectedly, Trip reached over and entwined his fingers into hers in a Vulcan "kiss" - a gesture that she had never told him about. Even though she knew no one watching them would recognize the gesture for what it was, she felt a thrill akin to the one she had gotten when she had kissed Trip in the hallway. Her pulse raced as the bond sparked between them. 

The world around them seemed to disappear, as if only each other existed. She experienced a dreamlike storm of memory and thought that was beautiful in its chaos. He experienced a structured system of memory and thought that was beautiful in its order. Together, their minds were in perfect balance. 

Their bodies were also in synch. She understood his desire for her, and he understood her desire for him. Trip leaned over and whispered into her pointed ear as he let go of her hand.

"Now, let's get out of here," he said. 

They again headed for the door, stopping for a quick goodnight at the table where Bowers and the Captain sat. 

"You're not staying for the dancing?" said Archer.

"Nah," said Trip putting his arm around her shoulder, "T'Pol's tired." 

"I thought Vulcans didn't get tired," replied the Captain. 

"No," said T'Pol, "but I did drink a little more Champagne than was wise, given my Vulcan constitution." 

"Well then," said the Captain, "I'll see both of you bright and early Friday morning. Enjoy your day off tomorrow." 

"Will do Captain," said Trip.

"Good night," she said. 

As they left, T'Pol's sharp Vulcan ears heard Bowers remark that "she didn't look tired" and begin to tell the Captain of the mistletoe from earlier in the evening. 

"I believe Bowers has also figured out we have mated. She will inform the Captain, no doubt."

"We'll tell him officially Friday morning. He'll want to know," said Trip, "but he's certainly not in a position to judge us. I always figured Bowers would clean up well. Clearly, the Captain realized that too."

"He did seem pleased to be in her company." 

Trip led her by the hand to his quarters, to which she didn't object, but it was unusual. They almost always engaged in sexual relations in her cabin. She wasn't sure why, but that was their habit. 

Trip opened the door to his cabin and led her inside. The room was dark, with only the starlight and a small reading light illuminating the room. T'Pol realized then why they spent so much more time in her cabin than his. He preferred his cabin cooler than hers and set the environmental controls accordingly. In her normal catsuit, the difference wouldn't be an issue, but in her formal wear she noticed the chill. 

As soon as Trip shut the door behind them, he covered her mouth with his in a searing kiss, which she willingly returned with passion that equaled his. Even though his touch was cool, owing to his lower body temperature, a combination of friction and desire soon warmed her body. She reached up and undid his black tie, never stopping the kisses. She began to unbutton his crisp, white shirt, but he broke the kiss - gently pushing her back and turning her around. He kissed the back of her neck as he undid the sash and hooks of her robes, pushing them off her shoulder and on to the floor - leaving her only in her underwear and shoes. 

"I've been wanting to get you out of those robes since the moment I saw you in them," he whispered as he nipped at the point of her ear, making her shiver. 

She turned around and kissed him on the lips again, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and exploring vigorously as she pushed his jacket off him, tossing it into a corner. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and gave it the same treatment. She reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. As she did so, she planted kisses down his hard, bare chest, briefly stopping at his navel as she got down on her knees. She pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift go, releasing his rock hard cock from its confinement. She grabbed hold of it firmly, careful to apply just the right amount of pressure as she began to stroke him. His fingers massaged her shoulders as she did so, and she looked up and saw his eyes were closed as he bit his lip. 

"You needn't worry about keeping silent, Thy'la," she said, "Undoubtedly the whole crew is still at the party." 

He laughed a little and looked down at her. 

"When it's your turn, I promise I'll make you scream," he breathed through his gasps. 

She leaned over and kissed the tip of his cock, then spun her tongue around - applying special pressure to the delicate area on the underside of the tip. He groaned and brought his fingers up to her pointed ears and caressed them as she took the entirety of his cock into her warm mouth, sucking with as much pressure as she could apply with her small mouth. 

"God, baby," he whispered, "I love how hot your mouth is. It's amazing. . ." 

She continued her actions, moving up and down his cock, sucking hard as she did so. Vulcans didn't practice oral sex, so he had had to teach her these motions. As she continued, she felt desire surge between her legs, precisely because her actions were so illogical. This was an act of pure pleasure and devotion that defied logic. She reached up and caressed his balls with her hand, and he winced a bit and motioned for her to pull back. She did so, slightly disappointed that he wasn't going to allow her to finish him. 

"Nah, darlin, I want this to last tonight," he said pulling him her up to her feet. He pulled her into a deep, loving kiss, his still-hard but now wet cock pressed against her stomach. He kicked off his shoes and the jumble of his pants and boxers still around his ankles. He then unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. He used the whole of his big hands to cup her breasts, teasing at her taut, greenish nipples. 

She moved to kick off her own shoes, but he spoke.

"Don't. I like the silver slippers. Keep them on." 

She looked down at her sparkling shoes. 

"I thought human males preferred higher-heeled shoes because, from an evolutionary perspective, taller mates are more sexually desirable," she said. 

He crouched down to pull her panties down her legs and carefully stretched them around her feet so her shoes stayed on. He threw the panties into the pile with the rest of the clothes. 

"Oh I like high heels. You know I do. But those make you look like a little elf. A little Vulcan elf. They're adorable. I want to be inside you with them still on your feet."

He planted a kiss on one of her ankles before standing up and taking a moment to drink in the sight of her. She did the same. She enjoyed the sight of his well-formed legs and chest, but gazing down at his aroused cock took her breath away. She shuddered to think that she had nearly lost him and cursed herself for being so trapped by her own fears and confusion. 

Trip pulled her into a another fierce kiss before pressing her backward onto his bunk. She lay back, propping herself up with his pillows at her back. She expected him to join her, but he didn't, at least not right away. He instead knelt next to her and gave her leisurely kiss on the mouth. He broke the kiss and stood up, walking around to the foot of the bed. He crawled up between her legs, kissing the smooth, bronze skin of her calves and her inner thighs. He spread her legs as wide as he could as he began to caress the folds at the juncture of her thighs. She moaned and closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations. 

Her mind wandered back to their earliest couplings, when Trip had discovered that while similar, Vulcan female physiology was slightly different from human women. Due to her inexperience, she hadn't been able to tell him what she needed, so since their first night together he had employed a system of trial and error in order to discover the right pressure and rhythms that would cause her to lose the last shards of her Vulcan control. 

She was quivering and wet when he slipped one of his big fingers inside her tight, warm body. He moved back and forth for awhile, then slipped another finger inside her, followed by a third. Her breathing quickened, and her body became tense with fear. Sometimes, this intimacy was still too much for her. He continued his fluttering movements, but he looked up at her.

"C'mon, baby, relax. Take a deep breath and let go of that control of yours. I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" 

She opened her eyes and nodded. She inhaled slowly, systematically in the same way she sometimes did in meditation. Through the bond, she sensed that he understood the peculiar terror that came from her submitting to him. It went against everything she was supposed to be. Yet, he also knew how badly she wanted to submit, and what a gift she was giving him in doing so. In return, she knew that he was determined to make it worth it for her - in every way that mattered. 

She let go as he pressed his tongue against her, finding her clitoris and applying the same rhythmic pressure with which his fingers moved. Never wavering, he took his free hand and reached up and entwined it with hers. Soon after, she gave an intense, loud cry and bucked against him as a dizzying euphoria engulfed her. In the distance she felt him grip her hand tighter, and she sent her pleasure into his mind, making him tremble. 

As her breathing began to steady, he gently removed his fingers and crawled up next to her. She felt him gently brush a hair from her face and her eyes sleepily opened. She took his hand and kissed it, then sucked on the fingers that tasted like her body. She too trembled a little, but she was content - almost happy. 

He kissed her, another deep, open-mouthed kiss. 

"I need to feel you in me," she whispered against his mouth. 

She reached down and grabbed his cock, which quickly became fully hard again as she stroked him. She positioned herself beneath him and helped him slip inside her. He groaned as he did so, and she knew he was fighting to keep control. Her high body temperature and petite musculature made her literally hotter and tighter than any woman he'd ever been with. Their minds linked together, she felt his gratitude that the bond was permanent, if only so he could keep experiencing this for the rest of his life. 

He thrust deeply, over and over again - and she met the thrusts by squeezing her muscles around him, effectively stroking him while he was inside her. Through the bond, she felt him reaching for his own orgasm - and soon it came. He shuddered on top of her, and she felt herself engulfed by his pleasure and endorphins - and another orgasm was triggered in her own body. 

Afterwards, they didn't move for what seemed like a very long time.

"Happy New Year," he finally whispered. 

"Happy New Year," she replied and kissed him. 

He rolled off her and pulled her into a quick embrace before getting up and fetching a damp towel from the bathroom. As he sponged her off, she shivered in the cold air. He took off her slippers and helped her slip under the covers. He also reached down under the bed and retrieved a bottle of Champagne and two flutes of hand-blown Mars crystal, which sparkled magenta in the low light of the room.

He poured them two glasses, handing one to her and joining her under the covers.

"I brought this down here earlier because . . .because I wanted to kiss my girl at midnight. I didn't think you'd want to do that in front of everyone so I was going to suggest we leave early. Chef even let me borrow the glasses because I told him the color reminded me of you."

T'Pol pondered this information for a moment, realizing how wrong she had been. She kissed him on the cheek, finally comprehending that he would never force her to do anything that she wasn't comfortable doing. This was why she loved Trip, not Koss. Trip understood her, perhaps more than a Vulcan mate ever would have. 

"It pleases me that you understand I would not enjoy kissing you in front of the others," she said softly, caressing his cheek, "but how did you know about the Vulcan gesture . . .the one that we use as a kiss? And how did you think of that as a substitute?"

He grinned at her and raised his glass. 

"You're not the only one who was accessing deep memories the other night. While you were learnin' about my little adventure in Palo Alto, I accessed your playground 'kiss' with some Vulcan guy called Tovak . . Tavak. . .something like that." 

T'Pol's eyes widened. She hadn't thought of Tavak in 40 years.

"It was not a playground. It was a recreation area.  .  .I let you access that memory?"

She had never told anyone about entwining fingers with Tavak, not even her mother. 

"Sure did," said Trip, "I had no idea you were such a little heartbreaker - letting him finger kiss you just that once then telling him it wasn't logical to do it again. Broke his heart, I'd imagine. . . Anyway, I knew you wouldn't be comfortable with a traditional midnight kiss. But I figured you wouldn't mind a Vulcan kiss, since no one there would know what it meant." 

T'Pol leaned her head on his shoulder, allowing an agreeable sense of contentment to fill her mind. Any lingering fear or doubts about their mating drifted away. Trip lifted his glass.

"To us. And to the New Year. May we meet all the coming challenges together." 

"Agreed. And if we trust in one another, no doubt we shall overcome whatever those challenges may be."  

 

 

Fin

 

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