Imprint

by Kat NC-17

Response to the Archer's/Endeavors Twilight Challenge. What is the challenge you ask? Simple, a fanfic based on the episode Twilight. It can be an episode addition, or a day in the life... whatever creative fantasy strikes based on the episode. My response? An episode addition, with a twist.

Special thanks to Monica for the Beta job, and TPTB for allowing such a wonderful episode to be written and produced to begin with. There is hope yet.....

Standard Disclaimers: Ain't nothing here that belongs to me but the idea...

Sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting the delicate form before him. Jonathan could barely contemplate all she had told him, and yet he knew it was true. How else was he to explain the newness of the environment and the differences in himself and her. There was more there though, more she wasn't telling him. She had taken care of him for nearly six years, fed him, kept his house, lived with him. Why? He stepped closer to her and closed his hands on her shoulders, sliding them slowly down her arms. She didn't make any effort to move away. She had stroked a hand over his shoulder earlier in comfort while she talked. It made him think, and wonder.

"Jonathan?"

His fingers flexed around her upper arms, testing the resilience. "Do I do this often, I wonder?" He tipped his head to the side as if weighing the thoughts and consequences therein. "You don't pull away from me, in fact you touch me more than I've ever known you to. Casual touches, something you never did on Enterprise. It suggests an intimate familiarity." He drew her close, breath leaving him as she rested against him. She wasn't completely relaxed, but she wasn't resisting either. "How long after I became infected before I tried to kiss you?"

A breathy whisper was her response. "Three years."

"Ah, a bit slow aren't I?" When she said nothing, he slid his hands up and down her back, testing the muscles there, kneading them, drawing the tension from them. "And how long before you let me kiss you?"

Her head snapped back, and she met his eyes. Her mouth opened and closed. She tried to draw away, but he held her easily. "This line of questioning is irrelevant. I allow you to kiss me whenever you choose."

"But I want to know."

She jerked from his grasp and spun away, arms coming up around her, as if she could hold herself together. "What is the point? You will only forget again."

His hands dropped to his sides and he rubbed them on the coarse material of his trousers. "I'm sorry. I would change it if I could. I'd give anything to remember... all of it. Especially you." Stepping up behind her, he rested his hands on her shoulders. "I probably ask you everyday if I have the courage to make a move, but it's always new to me and wondrous." His hands stroked over her shoulders and arms, as he drew her back against him. "How long, T'Pol?"

"Three years." She relaxed against him, drawing in his strength. "I allowed it the first time you tried... and every time since."

"And I've made love to you?"

"Yes..."

"God." He dropped his head to hers, nose nuzzling her hair. "I hate that I can't remember. I want to remember what you taste like, feel like wrapped around me. I remember the first time I saw you, the first time I wanted to kiss you, make love to you. It is so frustrating to see a face in the mirror I don't recognize. One with silver edging the temples and lines defining character. And then I look at you. You look the same, smell the same, sound the same. Every bit of you, but for the length of your hair seems timeless, ageless.  I cannot believe I have lost six years of my life... that I have tasted and treasured you for the last three, and I cannot recall it.  Every fiber of me demands to taste and sample yet again, to burn it into my memory in some way." He turned her to face him, his hand cupping her chin and tilting her head up until she met his gaze. "I have treasured you, have I not? I would like to think I have been a gentle and generous lover."

Her eyes fluttered shut for an instant before they opened again and settled on his mouth. "You have always been most considerate, and generous... I have wanted for nothing in my time with you."

"Except for me to remember it the next day." When her eyes dropped, he sighed. "I hate that I cannot give you that after all that you have given me. I hope that I've told you how much I appreciate your care of me... how much I love you?"

Her face softened for an instant and her hand came up to cup his cheek. "Everyday Jonathan. Everyday."

"Good." He kissed her palm, his arms sliding around her once more, his mouth lowering slowly to hers.

SLAM

Jonathan jerked awake at the sound, rolling off the bed on to his feet in an instant. He looked around the room, desperate to figure out where he was. He relaxed slightly as he recognized sickbay. Enterprise then, he thought to himself. I haven't forgotten. The painfully aroused lower portion of his body brought it all back to him in a rush. A dream. A stupid, erotic, neurotic dream. He rubbed his hands over his face in an effort to force the last of the sleep from his mind. He really wanted to crawl back into that bed and finish the dream, but he didn't. If I'm smart, I'll take a cold shower, he thought. After a few deep breaths, he decided to see what had awakened him.

A quick glance around the curtains, showed a frustrated Phlox struggling with the lid on one of his critter containers. With a rueful smile, Jonathan offered him a hand and they managed to get the cage sealed once more. Phlox gave him a grateful look. "I'm sorry I woke you, Captain. How are you feeling?"

"A little disoriented but not bad considering. My head doesn't hurt any longer, so that's a plus."

"Excellent. Since you are awake, I'll run a couple of scans and then let you go back to sleep."

Archer nodded. "Sounds good I guess. Do you mind if I finish the night in my quarters? It's a little more comfortable."

Phlox waited for him to take a seat and started the scan before answering. "If everything looks okay I don't have a problem with it, though I want you to come back immediately if you have ANY problems."

"That's reasonable Doc." Patience was hard won, but well worth it when the scans were completed. With a quick thanks to the doctor, Jonathan grabbed his uniform and headed back to his own space. The civvies he was wearing were less restrictive, and he needed to move.

As he walked the dream came back to him. It had seemed so real. The frustration was still barely leashed in his body. He hadn't known anything, except T'Pol in that life, and yet, he had known her intimately and hadn't remembered it. That thought alone caused his blood to heat, and he was glad he made it to his quarters before his body responded too much. Pausing only long enough to pat Porthos on the head, he shimmied out of his clothes, leaving a trail behind him that would irritate T'Pol, and then he remembered she wasn't his caretaker and had never been such. Shaking his head, he adjusted the temperature of the water so it was slightly cooler and allowed his thoughts to drift as his hands lazily soaped his body.

Why had it seemed so real? He and T'Pol were close, and there certainly was awareness and sexual tension. Heavens knew he dreamed of her often enough, but why now, like this? He couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with the anomalies in the corridor, but what? Would T'Pol be willing to stay with him, care for him, if he needed her? Would he want her to? Hell yes, even if it was in gratitude. He was a healthy man after all, he'd take what he could get, and he loved her... loved her... where in the hell had that come from anyway? A left-over from the dream? No, it was real. Somewhere along the line the thought of losing her had become painful to him. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when it had ever really been okay except maybe in the very beginning. She was something special, his T'Pol. His? Okay. He was feeling very possessive of her now, and he could accept it. It was an extraordinary day after all. It wasn't every day a man accepted that he was in love with a woman, and wanted to keep her with him forever, marry her even. Was that it then? He wanted her sure, and he loved her, but what? Wrong time, wrong place... Was that why he had dreamed of a future? Another time and place? And why forget each encounter? He shook his head to clear it. "Give it up Jonathan." And then it hit him. How could he possibly remember kissing her, making love to her when he had never done it. Suddenly he wanted that memory more than anything. "Keep dreaming, ol' man," he muttered to himself. She would no more allow him to kiss her, then she would be waiting for him in his quarters when he got out of the shower.

Because the need to check was as irrational as the rest of it, he turned the water off and sauntered out into the bedroom with the same carelessness as he had left it, and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her in his room. Common sense fled in that instant. He stood, stock still, naked and dripping water on the carpet as he watched her. She was folding the tee-shirt he had dropped on the floor. As her hands soothed over the soft material, a flare of heat, sudden and intense washed over him, and he groaned. He was suddenly intensely jealous of a piece of cloth.

T'Pol's head snapped up at the sound and her eyes widened at the sight of him. In an effort to protect both his modesty, and her own intensely curious gaze, she turned quickly on heel. "I apologize for intruding, Captain. I thought you were in sickbay and came to take Porthos for a walk."

He barely heard her words as the blood pounded in his head. *She would no more allow him to kiss her, then she would be waiting for him when he got out of the shower* She was here. What did it mean? Did it have to mean anything?  Yes, he needed it to.  He wanted to kiss her, needed it like he needed air to breathe. Modesty was completely forgotten in the wave of thought and need. Would she allow it? His eyes swept over her as he considered the possibilities.  The line of her back was straight and curved sweetly into a gently rounded bottom. The urge to touch was nearly overwhelming. *How long after I was ill before I tried to kiss you?*

*Three years.*

Three years... yes three years in the dream before he had tried to kiss her, and how long had he known her in this place? He understood the references now. They had been friends and comrades and something a little bit more for nearly three years. Perfect....

"I think I should leave Captain. I will speak to you later."

Act, react, do something man, don't just stand here! *And how long before you let me kiss you.... three years...I allowed it the first time you tried...and every time since.* Would she? Could he for that matter? He moved forward without thought, his hands closing on her shoulders, holding her gently but firmly in place. "Wait."

She stilled under his hands. "I don't think..."

He drew her back against him, nearly smiling as she allowed it. She wasn't relaxed, but she wasn't fighting. He wondered what was going on in her head. "Don't think..." His fingers began to unconsciously knead her shoulders. He dropped his head until his nose nearly touched her hair and inhaled. Yup, sweet, spicy, T'Pol... His voice dropped to a husky whisper, filled with longing and promise. "If I had been seriously incapacitated this afternoon... would you have stayed with me? Taken care of me?"

She tensed under his hands but didn't pull away. "The question is irrelevant, Captain. You were not."

His fingers tightened fractionally. "Just answer the question."

"There is no point to what might have beens."

He spun her to face him, reminiscent of the dream and yet unique in this reality. Frustration and need rolled through him and he couldn't delineate between the then and now, only the source. "I need to know." His hand came up and cupped her chin, tilting her head up until she looked at him. "Would you have stayed with me, cared for me if I had needed you?"

Her hands fluttered up to curl around his wrists. The tension in her grew stronger, but still she refused to pull away. "I would have stayed with you."

"Out of gratitude, or because you care for me?"

Her fingers twitched and her eyes dropped. "Captain..."

"Jonathan."

"I..." Her eyes flew up to his. "Jonathan..."

He smiled at his name on her lips. It was every bit as sweet as he had dreamed it. His fingers swept lightly over her cheek bones. "Gratitude or..." He dropped his head again, this time brushing the softest of kisses over her forehead, "love..." With the utterance of that word his control battered at him, and the need to taste her became paramount. His mouth closed gently over hers, his hands cupping her face, holding her to him. She was sweeter than he had imagined, softer, so much more, and he had barely touched the surface. He broke the kiss, waiting until her eyes met his once more. When they did, they were full of emotion she wouldn't admit to. It was almost enough. "Well?"

Her eyes dropped to his lips, and then rose again. As contact was made, the tension in her snapped. She went boneless against him. "Both... your well being is necessary to my own."

His eyes widened. He hadn't expected that, much less hoped for it, and yet he had wanted it, needed it. "Good." Again his mouth dropped, brushing lightly over the tip of her nose. "I love you too, T'Pol and I hope to tell you everyday." With that, his mouth was closing over hers, testing the seam of her lips and urging them open. As she acquiesced, his tongue tangled with hers, sweeping and searching as he learned the taste and texture of her. His teeth closed gently over her bottom lip, drawing the fullness of it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it. He let out a low growl as he released it, and drawing back, he stooped to lift her in his arms. There wasn't far to go, and T'Pol wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and settled beside her, one leg draping casually over hers. His fingers came up and traced the V of her uniform.

There was something strangely erotic about being completely clothed when surrounded by the heat and scent of a naked man, especially when the urge to mate dragged at the senses. T'Pol couldn't seem to catch her breath and didn't want to. She wasn't sure why she was here and allowing these liberties, except it felt right. She had dreamed of him, despite her evening meditation. In it she had been his mate, his caregiver, and yet he hadn't remembered. It had left her disoriented and uneasy, and more than a little frustrated. After dressing and checking the bridge, she had come to his quarters. Logic had given her a necessary excuse. Porthos needed looking after until his owner was home. She had entered the Captain's quarters and been distracted by the scent of him. The dog had been the last thing on her mind as she had started picking up the clutter, imagining his clothes were still warm from his body. From the moment he had stepped out of the bathroom she had been spell-bound. Her heart had pounded and her senses had been overwhelmed. She had barely been able to turn, to offer him some privacy. He had been naked, gloriously so and her eyes had feasted on him in those few short moments before she had turned. He had a confidence about him, even when he was injured and sleeping, that drew her. It wasn't just a confidence in his position but deeper, one that defined the man he was. He knew who he was and what he was, and was willing to search for the rest. It was what had originally drawn her to him; and then she had learned she could trust him and respect him, and knew he felt the same way about her. That was why she was here then, and why she was laying in his arms, and letting him make love to her. Her attention was drawn back to him as his fingers passed over her face, nose, cheek bones and ears. He was taking his time, studying, touching each bit of skin. As his fingers traced her lips, her tongue darted out, barely touching them. He sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes locked with hers. He repeated the gesture and so did she, this time closing her lips around one of the digits and sucking it in. Heat flared in his eyes, threatening to burn her, and she prayed for it, expected it to consume her, and him as well. She thought he would kiss her again once she released his finger, but he didn't. Instead his fingers resumed their path across her skin, skimming and testing the resilience of the surface, dipping below the edges of her clothes, teasing, releasing fasteners as they traveled. His eyes followed the path as if he had to make sure of what his hands were seeing. It was too much, and not enough. "Jonathan?"

"Hmmm?"

Her breath caught as he dipped his head to sample the expanse of skin from her ear to her throat. "What are you doing?"

His eyes met hers once more, and his hands came up to cup her cheeks. His thumbs swept over them in a soothing manner, light, barely there. "Making an imprint." At her confused look, he dropped a tender kiss on her mouth. "I'm making a memory, mapping every minute, every part of you with my eyes and hands, and hopefully my mouth. I want to imprint you on my senses so that I will never forget this moment, ever."

Emotion flooded to the surface and she fought it back ruthlessly. The dream, how could he possibly have known? "It is so important this first time?"

He nibbled on her lower lip. "Oh yeah. I don't ever want to forget the feel of you in my arms, the way you taste and smell and look at this moment." His hand stroked over her hair and he twirled the ends of it, his eyes going vague for a moment. "I dreamt that I held you in my arms, had held you for years, and yet each day when I woke, I remembered nothing. Each day, you would tell me the same story and each night I would forget." He traced the line of her brow with a finger tip. "I couldn't forget you if I tried, but it bothered me just the same." He kissed her again, this one deeper, more passionate. "I plan to make a permanent impression on both our memories." He gave her a questioning look as he sat her up and began to pull away the uniform. "May I?"

She knew what he meant and nodded. "Oh yes." Her hand slid down his chest and tangled in the hair there, "But only if I can return the favor."

He smiled again, this one big and bright. "I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more." And then he was pulling the rest of her clothes from her and bearing her back to the bed.

Sensation surrounded her in a gossamer web of sight and sound, taste and touch. Things deeply buried rose to the surface with a sigh. The need to touch and explore pushed her forward, encouraged her to match caress for caress, kiss for kiss. Time lost all meaning, thought slipped away as emotion buoyed her senses. She had studied humanity and human sexuality, but nothing had prepared her for this. Vulcans were tactile only during mating, or with one they were deeply bonded to, and yet Jonathan left no part of her untouched. He mapped the terrain of her body with first his hands, then mouth, then body, searching every part of her. He was doing as he had said, imprinting himself on her very soul, and encouraging her to do the same. She was helpless in the wash of emotion and sensation and gave herself up to it. There would come a time for talking, for going over these choices they had made, for understanding the whole of it. But for now, it was as simple and complex as the two of them, moving together, sharing themselves with an ease that bespoke years. The how and why of it slipped away, forgotten in the pure pleasure of the now. As his body joined to hers, a solid feeling of rightness crept over her soul. She wrapped herself tightly around him.

Jonathan shuddered as T'Pol closed around him, tight and hot, and his. She moved with him, surrounding him with her warmth and her body. He moved with her, the tempo as old as time, and just as timeless. A sense of rightness flooded him, taking him higher, forcing him to do the same for her. As her body clenched around him, he shuddered again, and gave himself up to it, and her.

When he woke , he woke disoriented and uncertain. His hands clenched spasmodically and he sighed in relief as they tightened around a familiar feminine form. The smell of sex and woman drowned his senses, and he remembered every glorious detail of the night before. His hands wandered over the sleeping woman spooned against him. Her bottom was pressed deliciously to his groin, and had brought him to full attention. He moved against her, instinctively seeking the heat he knew was below the surface. He wondered if she were just as responsive fresh from sleep as she had been earlier. The need to find out, to feel her body tighten around him as she woke pulled at him. He drew her thigh over his and tested her with his fingers, stroking, teasing, and when her body responded, he slipped inside her, slowly, leisurely. A sense of home washed over him and he buried his face in the nape of her neck. His hands began a gentle journey of her flesh. He stayed still inside her, enjoying the pulse of her body around his, each shiver of arousal heightening his own as she woke.

The first sweet shock of penetration woke her. She had been drifting in a haze of sensation, surrounded by the scent of him, secure and warm and oh so comfortable. At first she wasn't certain it was real, and then his hands began to move over her, and she shivered in response. A low moan echoed in her throat and she reached back, trying desperately to pull him to her, encouraging him to move. Her body rocked back against his, and his breath hissed in her.

"That's it love, show me what you want." He nibbled the curve of her throat, following the line of it to her ear. One hand closed gently over her breast, teasing the taunt peak with alternating strokes, feather light to firm. His other hand made a foray down her body, pausing to dip into her navel before continuing his journey. He allowed her movement, but limited his own. Each arch of her back pushed him closer to the edge of his control, but he bit his lip, savoring the sweet torture. His mind still couldn't believe she was real, was his, but his body was having no trouble at all with the facts. He traced the line of her groin, from hip down, never quite touching her, even when she strained against him. The soft sounds coming from her heightened his senses. He never dreamed a Vulcan would be so passionate and yet he wasn't really surprised. His T'Pol was like no Vulcan he had ever met.

T'Pol let out a low groan. The teasing was driving her to the edge, frustrating her beyond belief. Her voice echoed on a gasp. "Jon-a-than."

He chuckled. His palm rested on her mons, fingers dangerously close to her center, yet still. He bucked forward as he pulled her back to him. They both groaned.

"Yes... please..."

His teeth nipped the flesh of her shoulder, sucking the skin in and soothing it with his tongue. "Show me what you want."

"Touch me, move with me..." His thumb caressed a patch of skin and she nearly sobbed in frustration.

Her head tossed back against his chest, nearly catching his face. He jerked back in time, chuckling again. "I said show me... not tell me."

This time her breath did catch on a sob, one of need, and her hand slid down over his, twining their fingers together as she drew them down to her center of need. "Here..."

Another groan rolled through him at the feel of her soft, wet flesh against his fingers. That and the sure, supple strength of her own beside them. She started to pull away once she had him where she wanted him, but he trapped her fingers with his own. This time he nipped her neck, smiling at the small bruise that marked her as his. "Show me... teach me how you like to be touched."

She pushed back against him, wishing him to take over and send them both spinning, and yet acknowledging even now he was in control. Through the haze of pleasure and need, she knew where they were going, and was content enough to explore this place with him. Her fingers slid on top of his, and guided him to the perfect spot, influencing the pressure and rhythm of each caress. When her fingers finally left his to grasp at any part of him she could hold, his continued their play until her body was arching back into his in an agony of release.

As her back bowed and her body clenched and a soft moan echoed through the room, Jonathan began to move. All thoughts of torture gone in the need to complete this union. She was his. His soul recognized hers as its mate and the need to claim it, to mesh it so completely to his own, overrode everything else. Words of love spilled from his lips with each pounding stroke until his release crashed over him.

Time stilled in the aftermath. Hearts returned to normal and breathing eased, and yet he refused to move from her and held her tightly to him. Every part of them that could was touching. His lips passed over her cheek and he nuzzled her close, savoring the moment and the woman. Right time, right place... perfect.

Her hands tightened on him as if she could hear his thoughts and she nestled even closer. The words were husky when she spoke. "Next time... you have to show me how you like to be touched."

He smiled. "As soon as I catch my breath." His fingers drew a lazy circle on her breast. "We've still got plenty of memories to make..."  For the rest of our lives, I hope.

"Yes." They had definitely made a memory, something never to be forgotten, the rest didn't seem to matter as long as they were together.

FIN~