These Are the Moments...

By Asso

Rating: R

Genres: missing scene romance


This story has been read by 844 people.
This story has been read 1330 times.

There are moments...


By Asso




My dear friends, you know I'm persuaded our loved lovebirds became a couple much before T'Pol admitted her love kissing Trip unashamedly in the corridor. I'm sure she wouldn't have brought Trip to her home world, to her native house, to her mom, if she weren't thinking of herself and of Trip as a veritable couple. Too many expressions, too much body language, too many words can testify to this simple truth. So, their first night wasn't a unique night, before they went to Vulcan.

But, in this case...

Here is a little missing scene, something which I - and all of you, I think - can easily believe that it would have happened, to our loved couple.

Rather, to Trip.

Or to T'Pol?

Or to both them?

Oh, well! It is for you to judge.

One last thought: My dear Linda, my staunch, sweet friend. How will I be able ever to thank you?




There are moments...


Warm. Too much.


Much too hot.

Parching thirst.

Droughty throat.

So much heat! Too much.

I wake up, startled and with difficulty. Impossible to sleep.

What's this heat?

Parched throat.

Why this heat? And this cramp... no... this heaviness to my stomach? What is it?

I try to understand, amid sleep's fumes.

I need to drink.

Why this heat? The thermostat has to be out of order, my quarters never have been so hot.

My quarters?

Sleep's fumes clear, steeply.

I open my eyes and look at the ceiling.

It's not the ceiling of my room, I'm not in my room.

Roguish pleasure! Suddenly I realize.

I'm not in my quarters, I'm... I was... sleeping in T'Pol's quarters, together with her, after we...

I can't help but smile sweetly and proudly to myself.

(*... after we made love. Once again. One more time, in the dim light of the candles of her room. *)

Yeah, and that's why it's hot, so very hot. And the fault is mine. I wanted her to feel more at ease, so I modified her room's thermostat a little to make her finally relish her home world's temperature, especially during the night and - I smile again to myself - surely only I am able to experience this damn heat of her room.

Yeah, yeah. Only I. But, damnit, the damn kind gentleman that am I! How warm it is, now, her room!

My throat abrades, I'm naked, but heat hits my skin uncomfortably and sweat soaks it. If things will go ahead... uh, no... given for sure that things will go ahead like this, I will have to find a solution.

Damn heat! Is it possible I fell in love with a woman who comes from a desert world? Just me? I hate deserts! I feel at ease in the sweet breeze which licks up the ocean, crushing the waves' tops, and instead desert heat persecutes me, for worse or for... yup!... for better.

Better, yes. Images and sensations of our... last after-neuropressure-session pervade me.

(*For better, that's for sure. *)

But now it's really warm, for Pete's sake! I feel really uncomfortably. And yet many... many other times I slept in T'Pol's bed, with her, in the hot... eh, eh... in the hot of her room and of her arms, even after I modified her quarters' temperature level.

(*My stomach...*)

I fidget uneasily, trying to not be too restive, aware of T'Pol's soft body against mine. I don't want to wake her up .

My stomach, yes. Maybe this is the real cause.

The pecan-pie? Perhaps did I eat a little too much of it? Oh, but it has been such a marvellous thing sharing pecan pie with my T'Pol, after our making-love, before we fell asleep!

Or... ahem... or the Ploomek Soup. It tasted horrible, I am unable to understand how Vulcans can appreciate such a distasteful pap, and so heavy, in addition, but it was so delicious, my T'Pol's face, when I told her it was very good. Sure, she didn't show any emotion in this circumstance, as well as when I said to her I would like very much to savour her loved Ploomek Soup, considering that I had been able to make her enjoy Pecan Pie. Or, rather, she thought she was really unreadable, even to me, which proves that Vulcans also can make mistakes. In any case... bloody hell with those who are convinced that Vulcans don't feel!... after we made love, I found in my hands a slice of Pecan Pie and... damnit!... a bowl of Ploomek Soup! And so I had to eat it. And... and I didn't want to disappoint her. I'm sure she noticed not at all that I was lying about the infamous taste of this infamous soup, especially considering the fact that I... damn!... I had eaten it all! Yes! For the joy of my T'Pol. And for my sickness.

(*Oh my stomach! *)

Oh, but the game was worth the candle, yes.

(*What heat! *)

It was worth it. T'Pol promised me she would taste spaghetti.

(*What a thirst! *)

With a lot of tomato sauce, sure. But it's not easy to eat spaghetti, especially for a Vulcan, I think. So she will inevitably get spotted with sauce. Definitely.

I laugh softly, even in my trouble.

She will look adorable with the sauce on her mouth, tiny red rivulets of it trickling down her chin. Without doubt. If it's possible, she will look more beautiful than when her lips and her chin got impearled with peach juice.

Yeah, yeah. She will look adorable. But now I have to do something. I have to get up. Maybe a little cold water on my face and a lot of refreshing water into my tummy will be of some help. I have to move, to soothe someway this thirst and this heat, and also the cramp in my stomach and on my shoulder.


This one is new. Yes, there's a cramp in my shoulder. The left. Now that I am well awake, I can perfectly feel it. It's a cramp due to the position, because...

I move myself, slowly, carefully, trying to peek my shoulder without disturbing... yeah... without disturbing my T'Pol, because...

(*How she is beautiful in her sleep! So much! *)

... Because it's T'Pol's head which provokes this cramp, lying heavily upon my shoulder, totally motionless in the deep of her trustful sleep.

Trustful, sure. Trustful, because she appears completely abandoned to me. And in me. Like... like a trustful child.

I look at ceiling as if searching for a response to my proud incredulity and to my fortune.

I go in my mind to the scene of her last awakening in my arms. She tasted warm and I savoured the unique fragrance of her night flavour, an intimacy that only I can relish.

I teased her, in my usual way, the way I use when I fail to face situations, a mirror or her lifted eyebrow, with which she is attempting to dominate circumstances, displaying this sort of Vulcan behaviour. But now I know her a little more, and she can't deceive me.

The words I told her resound inside me.


"Hallo, Hon. Good morning. Did you sleep well?"


She didn't reply. She didn't show any expression.


My God!

... She had a stretch in my arms. Voluptuous and meaningful. Allowing me to share with her an intimacy which I wasn't able to think, one time, existing between us two.

And then, like that wasn't enough, she kissed me, softly, on the cheek.

My God! My God! My God!

Intimacy. A little bit more of it during every moment we share. An intimacy that is beyond mere sex.

Like now. Even in her unawareness.

I move carefully, allowing myself to see my T'Pol in her wholeness.

Damn! How very beautiful she is!

She's lying to my side, nude, quiet, totally abandoned to me, in her tranquil sleep.

Her... this thought goes again to my mind... her trustful, childlike sleep.

I observe her.

I know she is older than me, but she... her soul is like the soul of a child. How would she express? V... virginal, yes. Greedy to learn, to receive. To have. And nobody apart from me can be aware of this undeniable truth. Only I can know that.

And that's an unspeakable intimacy which can be worth an entire life.

Okay, okay. But heat endures, like the fastidious feel in my belly. And honestly I can't say that the fact that it's T'Pol's head, the one which provokes this dull pain in my shoulder, is enough to ignore it, to feel it less fastidiously, as well as the necessity to stay motionless because of my desire to not awake her.

I fidget again. To hell with my desires! I must get up.

Slow, slow, slow, I move.


(*Don't disturb her, Trip. *)

Slowly. Carefully.

(*This way. Yes. Disentangle yourself from her, quietly. Quietly, quietly. *)

Okay. Just so.

Excellent! Now...

Suddenly I halt.

A soft noise resounds in the air. Rhythmic. Sweet.


I hold my breath.

It's a... a snoring. Yes. A delicate snoring.

I don't dare to make the smallest move. I lower my gaze to her face, still lying on my shoulder.

She has opened her mouth slightly, her eyes still tight closed, and she... is snoring.

Softly. Gently. Delicately.


Oh my God! How is it enthralling her visage! With those red, kissable lips lightly open in their sweet snoring!

The sound fills my ears and my heart.

Intimacy? What more than this?

I lift my hand and move my right finger slowly to this marvellous mouth.

I brush very gently her lower lip.

And... she seizes my hand.

She brings it to her cheek.


In her sleep.

I don't breathe, almost.

I watch this wonderful woman whom destiny wanted to give me.

I listen to her bewitching, soft snoring.

I lose myself in the sight of her wondrous lips, gently trembling in this enthralling, mild, unknown noise.

Unknown, excepting from me.

I stare as in a spell at her little, cute muzzle.

Okay! Okay, man!

Don't move.

Stay quiet. Motionless.




Taste. Bask in it. Savour.

Ignore everything else.



I set myself the most comfortably way I can.

I gaze at the lovely visage of my T'Pol, deeply sleeping with her head upon my shoulder, resting cosily against me, in the silence of the room, in which gently resounds her soft snoring.

Intimacy. Yes. Incomparable intimacy.

I savour her unconscious tight grasp of my hand.

(*Intimacy. Yes. Incomparable intimacy. *)

To hell with my troubles! Yes! To hell. They don't count for a bloody thing!

There are moments... which cannot... which mustn't... get wasted.


The End (But I think moments like these don't ever end.)





I loved your story but i disagree strongly that Trip would lose if Koss or him ever fought... i mean in Storm Front Trip defeast Silik who is a highly trained assassin... But no Koss who is an architect can defeat him just because he is a vulcan... I mean i don't hate Koss, i mean there are people here who have written him very good as a misunderstood character I just hate that he can defeat Trip because he's vulcan


May I read your story, Rainy Kate? I would like. I am here:

Rainy Kate

It seems like we've got the same thought processes xD I wrote a short fanfic, about 2 weeks ago in the Czech (my language ;) ) and today I read this fic. the "pecan pie" thing realy made me laugh...why? I've got the same thing in my fic xD And it's not the first time, when our fics are the same :D DAMN IT! Are you some...odd "me" from mirror universe??? :D:D:D

Amh, back to your stories :D Great, humor, hot, sweet :D Love them :D
Stay so good :D


Hot and sweet at the same time! You mixed these two different elements very nicely and the result was a beautiful story!



A nice little vignette, but this passage really grabbed me:

She didn't reply. She didn't show any expression.


My God!

... She had a stretch in my arms. Voluptuous and meaningful. Allowing me to share with her an intimacy which I wasn't able to think, one time, existing between us two

T'Pol stretching in his arms; this painted an incredibly vivid picture in my mind.  Well done.


I want to thank everyone. Very glad you appreciated these "peculiar" intimacy moments.
Well, Alelou. You know how much stubborn Trip can be.
And, Bluetiger, maybe the solution Trip will  find is the one you suggested, don't you think?
Anyway, be sure, Dinah: the bathroom is just there, one step from the bed, but I think Silverbullet is right.
Surely, though, Trip won't reveal anything to T'Pol, Mary. This is a matter of fact, so that he  will be able to hear T'Pol's snoring again, and to have with her a lot of very private moments, Reanok.:p


No greater love hath a man than to let his arm ache so that his woman may sleep on.

What a wonderful moment for these two. Trip's desire to not disturb his lady despite his stomach discomfort is very endearing.

I must say though, he better figure out soon what to do about the room temperature. I would rather have three blankets than to sleep in a hot room. Maybe he can talk her into a cooler room with lots of covers to snuggle under. 


Oh my. I can just imagine the gastric turmoil, churning away, add heat and discomfort increases exponentially. What fortitude and strenghth of mind to ignore it all  so that he can watch and appreciate T'Pol- snoring of all things. I can imagine how embarassed she 'd be if Trip tells her. Cute interprtation


What a situation for Trip. A protesting stomach, but at the same time a enthanting sleeping T'Pol. Real life sneaks up on him. I really liked how you decribed what T'Pol looked like in her sleep.


Pecan pie, plomeek broth, a overheated room and T'Pol.  Yep, Trip has his hands full.  I hope the bathroom is close by. 

This story really shows how much Trip loves T'Pol.  For him, just holding her and watching her sleep would be time very well spent.


Asso I really like Trip's thoughts about T'Pol in your story.very nice to see him having private moments with T'Pol.:D


ASSO, That  is one lucky man.  Why move?  He has heaven near him.  It just feels lke Hell because it is so Hot.




:) Ah, that's so sweet.  I wonder how long poor Trip will be able to carry this off with quite this much dedication, though! :p

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