The BLTS Archive - The V-Spot
by Elessar (elessar54r@gmail.com)

---

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans'
souls/etc. I call shenanigans.

AN: I wrote this in honor of someone's avatar caption as a
bit of a ficlet. I also wrote this in the span of an hour,
so if the writing or the mechanics aren't the greatest,
don't hate me.

Set in season 3, post-Harbinger.

---
Prelude
22:03
---

The lighting in T'Pol's quarters was low, carried only by
candlelight in place of the high-tech plasma bulbs. She
found the soft illumination calming, as it had always been
on her native Vulcan many years ago. She would meditate as a
young girl out in the sand dunes, safe from the wild sehlats
behind her family's protective energy net. But the scene in
her quarters these past several months was quite different
from the dunes of the Vulcan highlands in one significant
respect: the presence of Charles Tucker. That ingredient
electrified the atmosphere for her hormonally charged
interior, even though she exuded only the calm and collected
Vulcan surface. Still, she couldn't help but vividly recall
the "exploration of sexuality" with her human companion,
Trip, every time he touched her in the silhouetted dark. It
was a thrilling, but also dear, memory to her that
threatened to repeat itself every time he walked through the
door.

These thoughts rushed through her mind once again as she
heard the chime. She smoothed the fabric of her silken robe
as she rose to allow entry to a most incorrigible
temptation.

---
22:31
---

"The impulse manifolds will require greater maintenance
under those modifications, will they not?"

Trip shook his head as he depressed the neural nodes down
her spine while she lay flat on her bare stomach. The bronze
skin on her back reflected the flickering candlelight and
Trip paused, losing his train of thought as he crouched over
her. He suddenly became self conscious about whether she
could feel the hardness growing against her—

"Trip?" She startled him back to reality.

"Huh? Oh, no, no. See, that's the beauty of it, by
substituting the re-aligning sequence into the injector
startup routines, but cutting it short after the first back
pressure cycle, the manifolds should stay free of any
contaminants entering the reactor chamber. I haven't run the
numbers yet, but we would get at least fifteen percent
better fuel efficiency out of the impulse drive," he mused.

"An intriguing idea. Perhaps I can assist?" T'Pol asked
preemptively.

"Sure, that'd be great!" Trip smiled back. Just then, she
lurched, lips parting and her cheeks flushing as his fingers
wandered to the incorrect placement on her back.

"Commander, lower. . . " He looked down to find his fingers
in the wrong place.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you," he said.

"No, I am quite fine," she strained, clearing her throat as
silently as possible while her blood began to pump regularly
again. Her heart raced for just that fraction of a second
when his wandering fingers hit the right button.

For several moments there was an awkward silence until he
reached the last neural node and sat up, expecting her to
follow. When she remained on her belly, he looked down at
her face.

"T'Pol?" She sat up without answering, and not bothering to
cover herself as her bare breasts came to face him when she
turned. He visibly swallowed while attentively working to
keep his eyes on hers. Inevitably, they darted downwards
once or twice before he could muscle the discipline to break
the cold silence.

"Uh, what's next?"

T'Pol paused a moment, narrowing her eyelids as she escaped
into thought and pursed her lips. She repositioned herself,
lying flat on her back. Her bottom covered by the slick blue
nightwear but her breasts openly swayed slightly as she lie
down and cast her eyes upward at Trip, who waited for his
orders.

"Apply mild pressure to the upper nodes on the pit of my
ankle, starting with the left," she told him. He began,
taking her guidance and making a few missteps along the way.

"Commander, may I—"

"T'Pol, would 'ya call me Trip, already?" he asked,
irritably. She opened her mouth to speak and knew the words,
"It is not appropriate," should come out. But they wouldn't.
Her tongue refused to move, her lips refused to articulate.
Her mind wandered and inexplicably settled on a certain
curiosity she had been meaning to rectify. In favor of
making more amicable conversation than the argument that
would ensue if she insisted on calling him 'Commander', she
decided to acquiesce and allow herself the vocal indulgence
of tasting his nickname.

"Trip," she began. He looked up at her and smiled a
tempting, control-shattering grin that rolled up slowly
enough that her eyes followed the soft lips until she saw
his tongue flash into his cheek. A pair of blue eyes she
would never find on a Vulcan shined back at her, their icy
color as provocatively tempting as the heat it stirred in
her silk pajamas when he looked up at her that way.

"I require some assistance understanding something Ensign
Sato said today," she informed him. He would have never
guessed the topic from the professionalism in her voice.

"Sure, shoot," he grinned to himself as he worked her soft
skin. He imagined that men would beg to give foot massages
if they had ever touched T'Pol's firm, perfectly hairless
and smooth flesh.

"She was relating a joke to Crewman Jacobs from the third
shift watch, in the mess hall two days ago. . . "

---
5 Minutes Later
---

Trip stared back at her expectant brown eyes, swimming in
seriousness while he digested the question. She had sat up
to explain her story, Trip sitting in his Starfleet blue
undershorts and under shirt. He nervously rubbed his stubbly
jaw as she awaited an explanation for her query.

"Well, ah," he stammered. "The G-spot is a, uh," He found
himself flushing like a thirteen year old in sex education.
He cleared his throat, taking his hands off T'Pol so he
could clearly articulate the words without flashes of
imagery coming to mind as he imagined T'Pol finding out
firsthand. Then he realized that Vulcan women probably don't
even have them.

"Well, it's a. . .  position," he gesticulated. "Well, a place on
a woman's body, or. . .  in a woman's body, rather, that is a
very. . .  potent erogenous zone for, uh, stimulation. During
sex," he clarified.

"It's near the uh. . .  well it's. . .  nevermind, it's not
important where it is, after all you're Vulcan, you wouldn't. . . "
he trailed off.

"Not that I mean to say you. . . " he stammered again.
"Nevermind."

T'Pol analyzed his answer as if they were still talking
about engine manifolds before turning her pondering gaze
back on his. Her eyes changed somehow, as she pursed her
lips and narrowed her eyes on him.

"That would explain some of your behavior on the night that
we shared," she replied, her eyes darting away from his
uneasily. Trip flushed slightly as a nervous grin came over
his face.

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled in confession. "I 'spose I was
thinkin' yours was around there too," he drawled back at her
as she followed his eyes from her ankle all the way up her
body. She became aware that her chest was rising and falling
more rapidly.

"Quite fascinating. I was unaware that human women shared
this characteristic with Vulcans," she replied simply.
Trip's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me? You have a . . .  a spot like that?" he asked
furtively.

"Yes," she replied with a perfectly straight face, daring
him further into an increasingly widening avenue of
opportunity.

"And, where would it be?" he asked, flashing a Tucker grin.
"You didn't saying anything about that last time." He
laughed nervously, his hand resting on her thigh. He
suddenly realized its presence there, and turned his eyes on
it just as she did, too.

"You never asked," she told him, her voice lower than usual.

He looked up to see the recognition in her face as he
quickly decided what to do. His fingertips clinched
slightly, squeezing ever-so-lightly against the silken
fabric to take her lean, muscular thigh into his hand for
just an instant before relaxing his palm against it again.
Both eyebrows flinched as T'Pol controlled her reaction to
the welcome fingers only inches from where she really wanted
him to touch her.

"There is a major and minor nerve ending, reachable by
direct stimulation similar to neural nodes. The minor ending
is present on the lower back, offset from the spinal column
by approximately three centimeters. The major ending extends
along the lower right torso, approximately four centimeters
above the hip bone," she informed him coolly. He didn't
speak but moved his fingers to her belly, testing the waters
as he allowed his fingertips to graze the taut skin around
her belly button as he leaned forward closer to her. His
eyes never left hers the whole time, watching carefully for
any sign to desist or continue. In true T'Pol fashion, she
gave no hint of her pounding heart, desperately holding
herself from the seizing pleasure that wracked at her as his
hands tickled her belly.

When he moved up her hip bone, beginning to press lightly
and carefully, she finally moved, easing herself back onto
the ground slowly. While it was her explicit indication that
she did not object, it had taken every ounce of her control
to waver in as dignified manner as she could.

He brushed the backs of his fingers against the trim curve
of her waist in just the right spot, where tiny blonde hairs
on his knuckles poked out against her flesh and caused
goosebumps to prick up. She gasped in pleasure,
uncontrollably allowing her head to fall back and her lips
to hang open, drawing out an endless syllable of ecstasy. He
dared further, moving forward and planting his hot mouth on
that same patch of skin. This time it was too much for T'Pol
to weather in silence and she gasped again, a soft,
delicious moan escaping her lips as her eyes remained behind
their lids. He sucked and kissed at her copper-toned hips,
allowing his hands to roam around the rest of her torso, up
to her breasts and along her sternum. Her back arched high
as he tickled the spot with his bare tongue, planting a kiss
on it as he scooped her up by wrapping his free hand around
her back and pulling her up to him in one swift motion.

The movement catalyzed her like an antimatter reaction and
she exploded in his arms and allowed the passion beating off
his body against hers to infuse her, invade her every crack
and crevice, and embrace her. Her lips carelessly tasted his
face, pecking first against his chin and then his lips,
tasting the flickering tongue that she watched him
temptingly dart into his cheek day in and day out. Wrapping
her arms around his torso, she impatiently pulled vigorously
at the thin polymer material to relieve him of his clothing.

"Easy, easy now," he joked as he broke their kiss and helped
her get him out of the shirt.

"I don't want you tearing this one too," he mumbled, burying
his lips into her skin. He tasted her breasts, squeezing her
nipples between his lips lightly enough to hear her whimper
softly and wrap her fingers around his head, pulling him
tighter into her. Finally they parted, panting and out of
breath, and he picked her up as he stood. Manipulating her
tiny body with ease, he moved her towards the bed as she
stroked up and down his muscular arms casually, lost in
concentration as she took stock of how desperately she ached
to feel him inside her once again.

He laid her down on the bed, allowing her legs to spread
around his thighs, but instead of climbing on top of her he
sat back. A grin crept across his face as he lowered his
lips to her soft belly, planting a soft kiss there, gladly
lingering to taste her as long as possible. He turned his
eyes up at her, the ice in them melting under the fire of
lust she felt irradiating from him as he slipped his fingers
under the waistband of her blue pajama pants. In one slick
motion he pulled them to her knees, then with her help took
them off and dropped them on the floor. She gladly allowed
him access, opening her legs to him as he leaned forward
once again. But he didn't stoop down to her womanhood as she
had perceived his intention to be, at least not at first. He
moved all the way up her body, leaning against her, and
moving all the way up to her face. Taking one last
admiringly long look at the angel of a woman—Vulcan—before
him, he lowered his lips onto hers and slowly kissed her one
more time. He realized he could kiss this woman "one more
time" the rest of his life.

He moved back down to her mid section, lying on his stomach
and stooping over her white hot womanhood while she watched
his every move. He lightly traced the fingers of his left
hand over her hip bone, eliciting a soft whimper as her eyes
closed in pleasure once more. He tickled that spot above her
hip and she bucked instinctively, but he met her hot center
midway with a long and succulent kiss that arched her back
nearly to the ceiling.

---
0235
---

Trip collapsed on the bunk next to her, panting into the
covers before he could manage to turn himself around. He was
next to the wall and she was on the floor-side, so he turned
to face her while she faced away from him. Her naked body
was covered in sweat, her hair pleated and mussed like he
could only once-else recall seeing it before.

"That was amazing," he mumbled as he nuzzled into her neck.
He was almost too tired to even plant a kiss as he wrapped
his arm around her midsection. With little effort, she
settled into his warm body, his manhood softly tickling the
inside her thigh as he chuckled.

"Now, we gonna' call that an exploration of 'vulcan
sexuality'," he asked carelessly. He mentally kicked himself
a second later. Moments of romantic levity with T'Pol seemed
so fleeting that the slightest detour meant derailment, and
he had hoped to lie here with her for the rest of the night,
to share her bed and hold her close again. Even if the
morning brought another disappointment. . . 

"I hope not," she replied quietly. Just when he was about to
reply in ecstatic surprise, he realized it was best not to
spoil it. The last thing he wanted was to shatter a perfect
moment with the perfect woman by demanding an explanation he
knew she didn't have. Instead, he stroked her chest with the
arm he had wrapped around her, and leaned up to tentatively
kiss only what he could reach of the corner of her mouth.
She took the invitation and turned her face to put her lips
completely against his.

The moment was too peaceful, too ideal for either of their
better judgments to force her to face the reality of her
feelings, because he knew she wasn't ready for that.

At least not yet.

---

The End