Balance

A/N: This is my answer to the hammock challenge.

Rating: PG-13

Charles Tucker the Third was having a great time. Ever since he and his wife T'Pol had rented this bungalow with a private beach, Trip had spent the bulk of their vacation naked. He had even come to believe that his lovely wife was a closet naturalist.

Trip had settled himself in a large hammock that was outside on the veranda of their cottage. It had a great ocean view and complete privacy. A warm breeze was close to lulling him to sleep when Trip felt a warm body slide across his. The hammock began to swing as T'Pol settled herself against her husband's body.

Trip opened one eye and peered at the lovely naked woman in his arms.

"Did you make your calls?"

He felt T'Pol rub her cheek against his chest as she answered, "Yes, I contacted the port authority and arranged for a shuttle to pick us up two days from now."

"Good, as much as I hate to leave this place if we don't rendezvous with Enterprise on schedule they'll charge us with going AWOL. Did you talk to Captain Archer?"

T'Pol was rubbing her hand in lazy circles on her husband's chest, "I did, he was very anxious to know if you were relaxing. He asked if your tensions were eased. I believe he was making a veiled sexual reference but I, of course, ignored him."

"Of course," Trip chuckled. "I'm just glad you dressed before putting the call through. Jon would have had a coronary."

"Was I supposed to dress?"

Trip's eyes flew open, "What!"

Trip suddenly felt waves of humor rolling off his wife. He reached down and smacked her bottom.

"Have I ever mentioned that Vulcan's have a nasty sense of humor," Trip settled back down, closing his eyes again and smiling at the love of his life. "I think that's the first thing that attracted me to you."

T'Pol rubbed her breasts against the man sharing the hammock with her, "Indeed? It did not appear to be my sense of humor that I continually caught you staring at."

Trip laughed as he caressed her back, "Well, maybe not the first thing."

T'Pol's hands began to wander and soon Trip realized what her intentions were.

"Darlin' there is nothin' I'd rather do than make love to you, but...well you've already flipped us out of this thing onto the deck twice in the last three days and I got the bruises to prove it. I understand that this has become a challenge for you, but...please can we go to the bed," Trip virtually whined.

"Last night, as you watched the vid of that sporting event, I studied the logistics of this device. I plotted the balance points, dynamics of the motions our bodies will make, the gravitational constant and variables such as rotational momentum. I now believe that we can successfully consummate this act without undue harm coming to you. You must simply follow my lead."

"Well if you're sure," Trip said nervously.

T'Pol leaned in and gave him a scorching kiss, "Trust me."

A few minutes later, Trip was beyond caring about his safety. As the husband and wife made passionate love, Trip decided if this hammock had his name on it, so be it. It would be a hell of a way to go!

Much later, the warm ocean breeze caressed their panting and very satisfied bodies.

As Trip started to doze off, he murmured, "With your balance, you'd make a hell of a gymnast."

T'Pol however did not answer, her mind was otherwise engaged. She glanced out to the perfectly calm sea, then returned her cheek to Trip's chest. T'Pol began calculating the odds of successfully having sexual relations on top of a surf board with the desired effect that neither participant drowns.

THE END