The BLTS Archive - Wrecked
by Aquarius (solos_slave@somerescue.com)

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DISCLAIMER: Enterprise, Trip, and T'Pol belong to
CBS/Paramount, not me. I just took them out and had a little
fun with them. The situation I put them is my own idea,
though, so nobody get any funny ideas about saying
otherwise. This was a labor of love; no money was made from
this little adventure. So relax.

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Trip was still panting as he rolled onto his back. "That was
good."

"That was. . . unexpected," T'Pol said breathlessly as she
collapsed onto him. "Are you injured?"

Trip shook his head. "You?"

"No."

They lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, trying
to regain their senses.

"The bond is getting stronger," T'Pol observed after a
while. Unwilling to take her eyes off Trip, she blindly
groped for a blanket to cover their cooling,
perspiration-slicked bodies.

"That's not the only thing," Trip said wryly. He shifted,
propping himself up onto an elbow. As soon as he saw their
handiwork he burst out laughing. "Sonofabitch!"

Trip had heard locker room talk about this kind of thing
before, but he thought it was the stuff of inflated egos and
urban legend. The twisted metal and broken bolts and
collapsed foam before him gave evidence to the contrary, and
he made a mental note to rethink his skepticism. He was
aware that things had been intensifying emotionally between
him and T'Pol as their marital bond grew, but this. . . ?

He grinned. "We just had a bed-wrecker!" It happened so
fast, Trip hadn't been exactly sure how they ended up on the
floor until he saw the poor, dilapidated bed frame. He and
T'Pol had just reached a new level of telepathic awareness
in their bond, in which their pleasures were mutually shared
more now than ever. T'Pol seemed oblivious to their fall, so
Trip had been determined not to stop until he felt her
quivering in release against him.

"While I understand your self-satisfaction over your stamina
and prowess," T'Pol began dryly, "I doubt you'd find it so
humorous if your bed had been broken."

"Oh yeah, I would," Trip smirked. He felt her feigned
annoyance at being bedless give way to contentment as his
muscular arms swallowed her up.

T'Pol's fingers traced the curve of his triceps with gentle
deliberation. "And where do you suggest I sleep tonight?"
she asked almost coyly.

"Well, it wouldn't be right for me to break a woman's bed
and leave her to sleep on the floor, now would it?" His lips
found the tender spot behind her ear. "I think the
gentlemanly thing to do would be to invite you to bunk with
me tonight." Since committing to each other, Trip had spent
his nights more often than not in T'Pol's quarters. It would
be strange having her in his space for a change—strange, but
definitely not unwelcome.

T'Pol shivered. "That would be agreeable compensation.
However, I require. . . reparations."

Trip's mouth trailed down her throat, and he felt arousal
wash away her contentment. "Don't worry," he assured her.
"I'll fix it after my shift tomorrow. And I'll reinforce the
frame. . . for next time." He carefully lowered her back to
the floor.

"What are you doing?" The wondrous chaos inside was starting
once more. T'Pol's body tingled as the little caresses on
the insides of her thighs began.

His lips meandered back to her mouth. Their breathing became
ragged again. "We gotta try to get this out of our systems
now," he answered hoarsely. "Otherwise, we won't have
anywhere to sleep tonight if we break my bed, too."

T'Pol raked her fingers through his hair. "Your logic is im.
. . mmmmmmm. . . oh. . . "

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The End