jlr || girlslash

Title: "Colonizing the Body"

Author: jlr ( jlr at babealicious.net )

Series: VOY

Pairing Code: J/7

Rating: NC-17

Archiving: ASCEM, BLTS. Anybody else: I'd prefer you LINK to this page OR contact me first.

Feedback: is always appreciated (by email or here).

Disclaimers: Daddy Paramount owns the vehicle and the passengers. I just borrowed the access codes so I could take them out for a little spin. I'm not making any money off this, so you certainly shouldn't.

You must be this tall to read this story:

------ 18

All others have the government's go-ahead, but if graphic descriptions of two consenting women getting it on offend or disturb you, go no further.

Summary: The Captain clearly has a special relationship with Seven. But what is really at stake for her in their connection, and how far will she go to find out?

Author's Note: This story was originally inspired by "The Gift"



"There's a battle being waged inside her body between the biological and the technological."
- the Doctor, "The Gift"

 

It was only when she felt the cushions of the couch mold themselves to her back like gel that she realized she'd been sure she was going to die. Out of necessity, she'd hidden it from herself well. But on one side, one of the most powerful and malevolent forces known to her species, and on the other, one human. Alone. Captain kathryn janeway vs. the Borg--what a joke. Now that she was speeding away from danger, secure in the belated consciousness of her own survival, she felt not triumph, but a draining emptiness. She had to still be fighting.


Against her nature, she dreamed, eyelids twitching under the electrical compulsions of REM sleep, providing a subtle counterpoint of organic movement to the quiet rigidity of her body. The cargo bay was silent, except for the crackling buzz of the energy flowing into her from the alcove, and underneath, the warm throb of the ship's engines. And she dreamed silence, the terrifying silence of when she'd first been severed from the collective roaring in her ears, submerging her in a desperate need for action. She knew she was in sickbay, but she couldn't move, she couldn't open her eyes, she couldn't speak, only feel her body spearing her with pain as it fought with itself, in a violent and helpless echo of her mental torment. Alone, this drone is alone, unacceptable... She spiraled downwards, drowning in emptiness, until a shocking contact anchored her. A warm, elegant hand slid over hers, grasped it, pressing her fingers. And a rich, gravelly voice cut through the silence: You are not alone...


Kathryn Janeway was curled into the corner of the couch in her quarters, one hand cradling a mug of cafe au lait, her comfort drink--she needed to calm down, not stay awake, for once; the uncomfortable restlessness of her own mind was proving more effective than caffeine. Her other hand was holding a padd: a novel. Since they'd left Borg space, she'd been more careful than usual to take time to relax, alone. Her commbadge chirped and she looked up reflexively at the sound of B'elanna's disembodied voice.

"Good afternoon, Captain...I was just calling to check on you."

Kathryn smiled. B'elanna knew both her and Chakotay too well-- she was very tactful about it, but she always seemed to read the nuances in their relationship with uncanny accuracy. But she wasn't feeling like opening up right now.

"I'm fine. I was just...reading."

"Reports, or a book?"

The tone was teasing, so Kathryn obliged: "A book."

She could almost hear B'elanna's nod. "If you want to go eat, or talk, or play pool, just let me know."

"I don't think my condition warrants a mercy game: you know I'd beat you...Thanks B'elanna." It was genuine.

But she knew she wasn't quite up to being social anytime soon.

Kathryn picked up the padd again, but she'd finished her coffee and she no longer felt like concentrating on the book. She got up to recycle her mug and paused for a moment, leaning against the wall. Then, almost automatically, she walked out the door, on her way to do something she'd done often in the past several days: visit her new passenger.


The drone observed a life form approaching. Human. Female. Leader of an insignificant military matrix. Designation: Janeway. The threat posed by this individual had to be reassessed based on the drone's current condition: this drone had been severed from the collective by this individual, and was therefore unable to function correctly. The possibility of assimilating or neutralizing life form Janeway was both negligible and unproductive. The desired objective: return to the collective and prevent further damage to this drone.


Kathryn barreled into her quarters and as soon as the door had calmly swished shut, she slammed her fist into the wall. Her altercations with Seven of Nine were having an unusually strong effect on her. Normally, when she argued, she felt powerful and controlled. She had an instinctual skill for negotiating conflicts that she had cultivated over years of rising through the ranks of starfleet--she'd come to take getting what she wanted for granted. But now she felt...upset, unsettled, and furious, but without focus. She was pacing in her agitation, she realized, disgusted with herself, even though she'd refused herself other physical outbursts. She forced herself to still her body, take a deep breath, and try to analyze her tumultuous emotions.

And then it all came crashing in on her: doubt. Seven of Nine's piercing vituperation had caused her to question, not only her decisions, but her very ideology. She sank slowly into a chair. The isolation of her position flooded her in a familiar rush, and she started to shake it off, a habit she'd perfected with long practice--but stopped herself. /I need to feel this right now./ Seven of Nine's words echoed in her head: 'You would deny me the choice? Then you are no different than the Borg!' She buried her hands wearily in her hair, as her mind conjured up the still not comfortably distant months spent in Borg space--the subtle and unrelenting edge of worry that had knotted itself into the muscles of her neck and kept her awake at night, the knowledge that all strategies and tactics aside, they were still one ship, one captain, nestled in the middle of the home territory of the most powerful and most malignant race in the galaxy. She murmured to herself /If I could take back just one, one human being cast out into space and lost, swallowed up by the Borg hunger for bodies, if I could take back just this one.../

She was different than the Borg, and she was right.

She thought back to the discovery she'd made several days before, combing the Federation database in her ready room. It had taken her breath away when shed finally found a picture of a tiny blonde child...a human soul, a human identity. /I have to show this to Seven of Nine.../

Stepping up to the energy field of Seven of Nine's cell, Kathryn inhaled as she looked at Seven, and the coiled up energy of her confusion and anger hit her almost palpably. /This is a war./


Sometimes, as she drifted toward sleep, she felt again with lifelike vividness the dead weight of Seven's body in her arms as she fell against her in a bout of illness, the sharp pain as the metal of an implant scraped her skin, the contrast between that and the yielding flesh under the mesh. She didn't discuss her fascination with Seven with anyone. She knew Chakotay didn't approve. But Seven was helpless, now, like a child. And hard, at the same time, like an enemy. She had to win her, somehow. And there was a way Seven looked at her, a shading of her pupils, a spark, that made her think she could.


[much, much later...]

Tonight, Kathryn had installed Seven in a cozy holographic corner of her favorite cafe in San Francisco, with the sounds and colors of the city bustling anonymously around them. She was trying to introduce her protege to coffee, and she was half reading, and half watching in amusement as Seven rather dubiously sipped at her mug. The other woman looked up and noticed her scrutiny, their gazes locking for a moment.

"When ensign Kim observes my body he sees something he desires. When you observe it, you see something...more," Seven said, abruptly.

Kathryn's eyes twinkled. "I should hope so," she answered dryly.

"It is not longing, it is...possessive, as if it were already yours," Seven continued pensively.

Kathryn pursed her lips. "Seven, I do not desire you, nor do I feel I *possess* you."

Seven simply raised her technological eyebrow.

"Captain," Seven continued after a moment, "I believe it would be...beneficial for me to explore the area of human sexuality, since the phenomenon of sex seems to be so important to the humans who are my companions aboard this vessel. Ensign Kim has suggested to me that an appropriate partner in this endeavor is someone who I...trust and who is my...friend. In spite of the fact that you are human, I respect you. I also believe I...desire you. I would like you to assist me in exploring my sexuality."

Kathryn shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, and groaned inwardly. But her eyes narrowed with determination. "Seven, I am...flattered by your...proposition. But as captain it is of paramount importance that I maintain a position of objectivity and detachment, and that means I can, under no circumstances, engage in sexual relations with my subordinates."

Seven's brow furrowed. "Permission to speak freely, Captain." Her voice seemed to hold more emotion than usual.

The pause was long and the word hard: "Granted."

"The perfection of Borg thought is assured by the combined resources of millions of interconnected minds. When I was trapped aboard this vessel, you assured me that although my link to the collective was severed, this community of individuals functions in a way that is not completely dissimilar to the collective. I remain unconvinced of the efficiency of this arrangement, however, I have observed that the individuals in this group are connected by weak interpersonal bonds through which they provide each other with intellectual and emotional services. Although these functions are beyond my comprehension, it is a logical conclusion that you, as the leader of this group, have the greatest responsibility in this community, and therefore the greatest need to be integrated into this system. And yet I have observed that you remain the most detached from these ineffectual human forms of communion. In the majority of cases, I find the decisions you make as captain...unobjectionable. But I have also observed you to make command decisions that I consider to be inexcusably imprudent. In my estimation, the cause of this is inadequate support from other minds. By insisting on being alone you are harming your ability to command this ship."

Kathryn stared into Seven's icy gaze for a long moment. Then she dropped her eyes. She unfolded herself from the chair and stood up before she looked up again.

"Goodnight Seven." The words were curt.

With her usual economy of movement, Seven walked out the door. Kathryn didn't let out her breath until she heard it swish closed.

She walked to her quarters on autopilot, barely noticing the crewmembers she greeted on the way. She hardly stopped walking as she stripped out of her uniform and pulled her hair from its fastenings. It was only after she had thrown herself under the hot shower that she leaned wearily against the wall and allowed herself an explosive sigh.

She was angry--and angry at herself for being angry. Why was it only Seven who could shake her like this? Seven...and Chakotay. She smiled wryly: they were the only ones who really had the guts to tell her what they thought of her. For someone who'd spent most of her life in the collective, Seven was certainly developing a singular capacity for independent thought and action. She sighed. She owed it to Seven, and to herself, to at least examine what she'd said.

She backed, shoulders first, into the spray, letting the soothing heat battle with the tension, and diligently returned her mind to the beginning of the conversation. And groaned. She almost dismissed Seven's exasperating sexual suggestions but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to think about them. This was all a part of Seven's transition to humanity, anyway, and she did feel a certain responsibility. So, Seven was awakening to her sexual feelings, eh. Kathryn grinned in spite of herself. That they were directed toward her was not entirely surprising; Seven was probably closer to her than to anyone else on the ship, in her own way, a bond that dated back to when they worked together when Seven was still Borg. Although she was forming relationships with Tuvok, and with Harry. /She's right that Harry is attracted to her./ She'd noticed the way he acted around her too. But the thought of Seven and Harry together disturbed her. /The boy's half a virgin himself, he'd fall all over himself the minute he got within a foot of her. He'd never be able to handle her. / Kathryn shook herself. /I can't believe I'm thinking like this./ Seven had coupled her name with Harry's, had accused her of being attracted to her. As long as she was so far in the gutter already, she might as well ask the question whose answer she would normally take for granted...

/Well, am I?/ Her mind produced an unexpected image, one she rarely revisited: Seven as Borg, before her deassimilation, the contradiction of voluptuous, superhuman curves with the deadly metal armor that hugged them (that *was* them, she corrected herself. It occurred to her that the Borg were naked) with the chillingly mechanical precision of her manner. The intoxicating power she radiated--the power of the collective mind, to be certain, but speaking through this one body. Suddenly, with a jolt, she realized that she was aroused. She contracted her muscles and gasped as a warm wave of pleasure spread from her clitoris through her stomach. Her mind traced the contours of a body clad in a bodysuit that hid nothing, curves she didn't realized she'd memorized backwards and forwards, catalogued, evaluated. /Gods, I do want her./ She stood frozen, one hand supporting her on the opposite wall of the shower.

Pulling herself together, she numbly turned off the water, her instincts for conservation kicking in, swept herself into a robe, and sank down on her couch. As her feeling of being shaken subsided, it gave way to puzzlement. Why Seven? She mentally flipped through a list of attractive crewmembers (studiously avoiding her first officer), and found only a safely clinical appreciation--nothing like the strong reaction she seemed to have to Seven. Too disturbed to dismiss the issue, she allowed her mind to continue conjuring images: Seven, unconscious on a biobed, the Doctor hovering over her, having peeled away a Borg implant her body was violently rejecting to reveal the mottled grey skin underneath. Kathryn's eyes had fixed on that bare shoulder, and she realized, suppressing a gasp, that what she had wanted most at that moment was to see it flush with blood, to watch the pallor dissipate under the creeping advance of creamy human skin. The intensity of the emotion floored her. /I would have done anything to see that. Anything./ /Even ignore her own wishes, her right to choose?/ another part of her prompted. She passed a hand over her brow. She felt slightly sick, the terrifying pressure of her responsibilities suddenly sinking into her again. /What was I doing? I was fighting for her body...with her body. I was fighting with the Borg through her body. I wanted that body for humanity badly enough to ignore *her*.../ She suddenly felt like the Borg. /But the Borg are rarely afraid/ it was that other voice again. Her eyes snapped open. /Dammit, I was terrified, terrified of failure, of my own weakness...of being alone. And I was using Seven to fix it. She was *my* triumph. Hell, I acted like a cowboy. A one-woman crusade for my way in a human void.../

What was it Seven had accused her of? She'd said that by maintaining command distance she was harming her ability to make decisions. What if, in her naive, convoluted way, she was right? She was shaking, /It's no wonder I don't question myself more often.../ She suddenly felt her throat clutch and her eyes fill with moisture. She squeezed them shut and took a deep breath. She wasn't going to cry over something so ridiculous. Mark used to worry about her. What was it he used to say, "You can't be the Captain all the time, Kath." But dammit, she could be the captain all the time. She had to be the captain all the time. /And if I ever doubted that I have what happened with Chakotay to prove it.../

And then she did start to cry. Hard. /A luxury I rarely allow myself/ she thought ruefully. As she wiped her face with the heel of her hand, spent, she actually chuckled. /So Seven wants me to fuck her.../ Somehow it seemed very humorous. /And she's using arguments about my command style to try to get me to do it. That woman./ She outright laughed. /So why not?/

She sobered abruptly. /Kathryn, you are really losing it tonight./ Clearly it was time to draw the line and go to bed. She was sure this strange emotional upheaval would seem more sensical in the morning. She got up and slid the robe from her shoulders, hanging it back up before slipping a silk nightgown over her head, letting herself enjoy the sensual feel of it sliding over her skin less than usual. She slipped under the covers and closed her eyes...

But sleep eluded her. /I have been pushing everyone away/ was the first thing that occurred to her /I've have been hiding behind my command mask, and that's not a prudent or appropriate use of it any more than sleeping with my subordinates is./ She sighed resignedly and flopped onto her back. And she and Chakotay were handling it. His being her (former) lover wasn't easy for her, but it certainly wasn't tearing the command structure apart, or undermining her authority /Even I can see that./ /We've been out here for over three years, I've turned this place into a home--maybe I do need to consider seriously evaluating my...the way I participate in this community./ She thought of Seven. /How often have I listened to what she wanted?/ She felt a little guilty. /I want to reintroduce her to humanity, but only *my* way. And here she is telling me her way--I know how hard it must have been for her to admit she was attracted to me.../ The desire was returning and she hesitated only a moment before turning over again so she could get the slight pressure from pushing her hips into the mattress. /Don't I owe her? And imagine how much closer it could bring her to understanding what it means to be human if she could experience sex. And/ she had a hand under her now, stroking /isn't she offering me everything I always wanted from her --/ She froze abruptly, and raised herself on her elbows "Yes, why the hell not!" she said defiantly, and a smile spread across her face.

She felt a strange need to make herself presentable, so she started pulling her uniform back on out of habit. Her attention was absorbed in formulating a plan.

"Janeway to Seven."

"Seven here."

"Seven, I would like to apologize for the way I behaved..."

"Your apology is irrelevant, Captain."

"Perhaps not." Kathryn smiled. "Could you come to my quarters?"


Kathryn turned as Seven entered.

"Captain. I did not anticipate your summons at this hour."

"I have thought about what you said, Seven."

The woman only raised her eyebrows quizzically. Kathryn took a few steps toward her. Her eyes had a slightly predatory glint in them. Now that she had made up her mind that she was going to do this, she was definitely going to enjoy herself.

"Seven, are you certain you wish to explore your human sexuality?"

"I believe it would greatly improve my understanding of human behavior and culture." This time it was the rapid dilation of Seven's pupils that wasn't lost on Kathryn. /I'll take that as a yes./

She became momentarily serious. "I'm sorry about the way I acted earlier. I believe there is some truth to your comments about my policies for...fraternization with my crew. ...I would be...honored to help you conduct your sexual explorations."

For a long moment they stood facing each other, gazes locked, long enough for the tension in the air between them to become palpable. Then, delicately, Seven lifted one hand to the zipper of her jumpsuit, unfastened it, and pushed it off her body in one smooth motion. She kicked it and her boots aside, and straightened.

Kathryn's knees almost failed her. She was...a vision. Her pale skin glowed luminously. The planes of her body were clean, artistic--skin stretched over muscle, so slender its definition was only suggested. There wasn't an extraneous bit of flesh anywhere on her body to disturb the lines. Kathryn's gaze strayed ravenously up taunt legs, registering the swell of the calf, the knobbles of the knee, the contained power of the thigh. She drew a hitched breath as it fastened on the triangle between them, dusted lightly with golden hair that was beginning to glisten with moisture. A silvery implant followed part of the curve of her pelvis on her left side, at once forbidding and decorative, accentuating the restrained curve of her hip. Kathryn's mind called up an image of a classic Greek Venus, carved in marble, but rejected it as too earthy, fleshy, sensual--Seven's beauty was almost too perfect to be human. Her eyes skimmed more quickly across the stomach's barely perceptible curve, the ribs still outlined with silvery filaments--when they alighted on her breasts she gasped in earnest. They were not large so much as ripe, round, pushing the limit where they would seem a contrast with the rest of her, but somehow harmonizing. High, with just enough downward lilt to make their weight palpable. Tipped by blush-pink nipples puckering into points in the cool air of the room. The sweep of a clavicle, a graceful neck, full lips, parted and slightly panting, flushed cheeks, and then Kathryn's gaze caught Seven's, dark, intense. She felt moisture drip between her legs.

Seven raised her arms, almost gingerly, and wrapped her fingers around Kathryn's hips. Still staring into her eyes, she pulled her until their bodies were almost touching, and Kathryn could feel the heat radiating from her skin. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Seven leaned forward and caressed her cheek with her own. Tentatively, she brushed her face against Kathryn's, learning the texture of her skin. The light contact made Kathryn shudder with arousal. Her body shook her out of her trance and she raised shaking hands to grasp Seven's face, tracing its contours, eliciting a tiny sound somewhere between a moan and a grunt as she brushed the rough surface of an implant, an involuntary sigh as she buried her fingers in silky blonde hair. And then she was guiding Seven's lips toward hers /I want to taste her./ She caressed them gently at first, sliding Seven's lower lip dryly between hers, but, almost without her volition, the kiss deepened; she opened her mouth, and Seven kept up without missing a beat, and she was devouring her mouth, sliding her tongue along Seven's, pulling at her lower lip with her teeth /I want to be inside her/. Seven was learning fast, and began returning the kiss with equal fervor, ravishing Kathryn's sensitive lips with an exacting thoroughness, returning as good as she got and then some--sucking harder, thrusting deeper. A well placed nip wrung a moan from Kathryn, and Seven slid her arms around her waist, pulling their bodies together. They gasped simultaneously at the contact; Kathryn as Seven's thigh bumped her swollen clitoris, Seven as the rough fabric of the uniform raked her sensitized skin. The kiss had broken, and they stood, breathing hard, pressing their hips together. Kathryn's hands strayed downward, brushing a shoulder blade, the outside of a breast, coming to rest on the smooth curves of Seven's perfect ass, firm under her palms. She dug her fingertips in and pulled their hips tighter, then moved experimentally against Seven. She was rewarded by a half-stifled whimper accompanied by dropping eyelids. She started a rhythm, and they stood there, one naked and the other fully uniformed, arms wrapped around each other, panting and dry-fucking, mesmerized by the sensations and the smell of arousal that was rapidly filling the air.

Seven broke the silence, the habitual detachment of her tone moderated by the huskiness of her voice: "I believe it is necessary for you to remove your clothing."

"You do it," Kathryn said, stepping back and holding her arms out in invitation. Seven stepped closer and began tugging zealously on her zipper.

"Slowly," she added commandingly.

"That is not an efficient way of accomplishing the desired objective."

"Ah, that all depends on what your objective is, doesn't it?" Kathryn's voice was pitched low.

Seven appeared to process this for a moment before returning to her task. She finished divesting Kathryn of her jacket, and then stepped back, her brow furrowing as she focused her attention on tugging the turtleneck out of her pants and sliding it up her body with agonizing slowness. At the first ticklish touch of Seven's hands on the bare skin just above her navel, Kathryn sucked in her breath. On one side it was warm, tantalizingly light, human fingertips brushing across her sensitive flesh. On the other, the slightly rough surfaces of the Borg hand raked her slowly, a touch harsher than a fingernail, learning her flat stomach and inching over her ribs toward her breasts. At her hiss, Seven stopped long enough to glance at her face, and, seeing no signs of discouragement, returned to her task, hitching the turtleneck up over Kathryn's bra-clad breasts.

Kathryn watched Seven's face as she examined the sight with interest, holding her breath. It was a simple garment, cream-colored, silky, slightly sheer, cupping her round breasts protectively. Her nipples peaked even more under the cool air and the scrutiny. She gritted her teeth when the maddening double touch of flesh and metal caressed her through the thin fabric, finding the firm buds of her nipples and brushing over them once...again...and then squeezing them gently. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep still.

She forced herself to look at Seven. Her lips were swollen and slightly parted--as she watched the tip of a tongue flicked out to moisten them. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was in slight disarray and a wisp had come down to frame her face, and her eyes were wide in concentration /Good enough to eat.../ Her breathing was shallow--and Kathryn knew her own chest was rising and falling in the same provocative way. Somewhere she found the willpower to let Seven continue--she wanted her to experience this. Seven tugged on the turtleneck and she raised her arms to let it slip over her head. She watched Seven take in her bare shoulders, and then she leaned forward to brush her lips and then her tongue across the barely visible indentations left on her throat by the slight pressure of four pips. Kathryn threw her head back and moaned /God, I love to be kissed there.../ Seven's mouth traced a tendon to the nape of her neck, then out along her shoulder, licking and nipping. She had a sudden perverse desire to hear her, to make her put what she was experiencing into words.

"Seven, talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling."

Seven raised her head to met her gaze, as she raised her hands to slide the bra straps off her shoulders.

"My objective is to increase your sexual arousal, as measured by your breathing and vocalizations. I am familiar with human erogenous zones, however I have never seen another naked human female, and I am curious about the configuration of your body. I also find removing your clothing to be...sexually stimulating."

Seven had returned her eyes to Kathryn's breasts, and was pulling the bra down to expose them, smooth and pale, tipped by rosy swirls.

"Is this a productive activity, Seven?" her voice was thick with arousal. She reached behind her to undo the clasp.

"Within the given parameters, yes." And then she lowered her mouth to a nipple, closing her lips around it and sucking it into her slippery heat, swirling her tongue around it, teasing it with her teeth. Kathryn grabbed her shoulders, tightly.

"Gods, Seven, how can you be so good at this?"

"I am simply using all logical means to stimulate you."

"Seven, hurry up."

Seven simply looked at her quizzically for a moment, taking in her commanding officer's flushed cheeks and drooping eyelids, and reached for the fastening on her pants. She crouched as she drew them over Kathryn's hips and down her legs to her ankles, holding her boots so she could tug her feet out of them, and then she was standing with her legs parted, her soaked underwear practically steaming into Seven's face. She looked down her body into Seven's eyes, and then the woman turned her gaze on her mons, hugged by plain panties, and leaned forward, her tongue snaking out inquisitively to taste the damp surface.

Kathryn had had enough. She hooked her thumbs into her underwear and yanked it down her legs.

"Get up."

Seven stood gracefully. Kathryn raised her hands and brushed them over her face before trailing them around to the back of her neck as she circled her. Behind her, she reached for the pins in her hair, taking it down so that it fell against her shoulders.

"It's my turn now," she purred.

She stepped back to admire the view, sliding her palms down Seven's back. Her most prominent implant followed part of her spine, from mid-back almost to the cleft of her ass: it was her connection to the Borg alcove, where the energy flowed into her when she regenerated. Kathryn regarded it with interest, but she was in a hurry to get to Seven's...spectacular ass. She drank it up with her eyes, raking her fingernails over it and smiling as Seven fidgeted, and then, because she couldn't resist, bending to press her lips to it and take a mouthful, biting down. Seven gasped and arched toward her. Then she rose.

"Come." she ordered tersely, leading the way toward the bedroom, and not bothering to check if Seven was following.

Next to the bed, she turned and reached for Seven, pulling her against her suddenly. They both gasped at the full-body contact, flesh against heated flesh. Kathryn just stood there for a moment, letting herself briefly enjoy being embraced and ignoring the tiny pang it brought, her lips pressed against Seven's neck, her breasts pressed against Seven's larger ones. She could feel the implant scraping her hip. She could feel the moist heat of Seven's desire. She used her body to guide Seven to the bed, lying on her back, and knelt over her, catching her breath at the sight of the body spread out before her, before she bent her head to kiss her, forcefully and hungrily, supporting herself on her hands and letting only the ends of her hair trail down to brush Seven's shoulders. She felt the body beneath her straining towards her, and without thinking, she seized a shoulder and pressed it roughly to the bed. She pulled back, panting, from Seven's forcefulness and her own, and sat back on her heels to collect herself, settling her cunt against Seven's thigh. She looked at her, her hair spread out around her in blonde disarray, and found in ice blue eyes more challenge than confusion or bashfulness. The intensity of her own emotions surprised her: she wanted, with a desperate hunger, to devour this body, beautifully supine beneath her. She knew that, without moving, she was dripping onto Seven's leg. She had to speak to prevent herself from pouncing.

"Seven, why do you want this? To become more human?"

"To understand humans better."

"Close enough" Kathryn murmured as, without warning, she plunged her middle finger into Seven, twisting it. Both of them gasped and arched together, Seven straining against the weight of Kathryn's hips on her thigh and her shoulders braced against hers, still pinned. Kathryn almost came at the sensation of being surrounded, sucked on by hot, slick flesh, impossibly wet, virginally tight. She pulled her finger out slowly, caressing the walls, and trailed it up Seven's body. Leaning back over her, she breathed "taste yourself," and as Seven sucked her own wetness off her finger, she released her shoulder and pressed her lips to her neck.

From there, she began a journey across unfamiliar geography. Starting from Seven's ear, she worked her way across her neck, making trails of kisses and tongue-wetness and nibbles--and then rougher, deep sucking bites that would mark, listening, in high arousal, to Seven's gasps and whimpers and moans, feeling her writhe beneath the weight of her body. So much pale skin, and she wanted to color it with sensation. She made her way across Sevens shoulders and chest, finding the sensitive spots, to creamy breasts, concentrating on them until they were covered with soothing saliva and tiny welts from teeth. She watched Seven, head thrown back to expose a sinuous neck, eyes closed, brow furrowed in signature concentration, outstretched arms gripping fistfuls of sheet--gasps of pleasure and strangled moans of pain passed her parted lips, but she showed no signs of objection to the torment, lost in the banquet of new sensations. Kathryn was merciless when she finally got to nipples, rosy and pebbled: she swirled her tongue around one, leaning up to watch Seven's face. She flicked the nipple with the tip of her tongue, and then sucked it into her mouth, caressing it and scraping it with her teeth--and then she bit down hard, causing Seven to cry out and arch toward her...

By the time she arrived at Sevens stomach she had lost track of time. She was completely focused on her predation, playing the game of alternating teasing licks and feather-light kisses with devouring, painful bites in an unpredictable rhythm. She worked all the way down to pubic hair before changing course, over a sensitive and prominent hip bone, to caress and bruise one fine, pale thigh, and then the other. Then, having arrived at her destination, she paused, savoring the intoxicating moist scent of highly aroused woman, and gazed up at the foreshortened view of the curves she'd just traveled.

"How do you feel, Seven?"

Seven raised herself slightly on her elbows to meet her eyes, her gaze still icy, but considerably darkened with arousal.

"I am beginning to understand the allure of this human activity," Seven answered huskily.

"How do you feel?"

Seven paused, considering herself.

"My body temperature is elevated; I am...tense. I am experiencing less reluctance than usual to process irrelevant sensory information. And it appears that I am highly sexually aroused."

"So I see," and Kathryn turned her attention back to Seven's glistening sex, guiding her thighs open and back, and parting the light hair with her fingers. She teased, first, running her tongue over the labia to collect and savor sweetness, teasing the slick vaginal opening, barely touching the engorged clit that begged her attention. She wanted to make Seven's first orgasm by another's hand (or mouth) an intense, startling experience, and she brought her up slowly, expertly, holding back her rapidly mounting excitement, bringing her up to small peaks and then down again, focusing all her impressive concentration on Seven's cunt. Seven's hips moved under her, more and more forcefully, finally raising off the bed to press into her mouth. She'd captured her clit, by now, and was sucking on it, nibbling on it, stroking it with her tongue, and finally she pressed the knot of flesh hard against the pelvic bone with her tongue and Seven came, crying out, hips bucking, suspended, while Kathryn rode her with her mouth.

After a long moment, they collapsed on the bed, Seven panting, breasts heaving, Kathryn humming contentedly. She dragged herself up Seven's body, collecting sweat with her nipples, until they lay face to come-shiny face, one of Kathryn's legs draped over Seven's hips.

"Open your eyes."

Seven met her smoldering gaze, managing even now to cock an eyebrow, but then, in what was to Kathryn a decidedly human gesture, she pressed forward for a kiss. As they kissed, with languid fire, Kathryn moved against Seven's hip--she was already so close, and her quiet moans began to mingle with their combined breath. As Seven's hand pressed on her lower back, her own caressing hand found its way to the ridge of the hip implant, which, until now, she'd avoided. She traced its curve as her arousal spiraled, savoring the alien smoothness of living metal. She hit a spot along its central ridge and Seven jerked and gasped, breaking the kiss. Intrigued, Kathryn brushed it again, and again, and Seven moaned in rhythm, pressing her opposite hipbone against Kathryn's clit. Through the haze of her own pleasure, Kathryn had an inspiration. She peeled herself away.

"Turn over" she breathed into Seven's ear, and guided her to her hands and knees. She took a moment to admire the view: Seven was poised inquisitively, knees spread and back arched, presenting two toned, pristine globes and the slash of pink flesh between them. She pressed herself against her, straddling one of Seven's legs, sliding her wet sex against Seven's ass, pressing as much of her torso to Seven's back as she could, and, breathing against her neck, entered her very slowly with two fingers. She began to fuck, with her fingers and with her hips, caressing her protege from the inside, listening to their breathing quicken. Then, sliding herself down slightly, keeping up a slowly escalating rhythm with her fingers, she began to tongue the substantial implant that defined Seven's spine like a silver birthmark. Reaching her other hand around to flick at Seven's clit, thrusting her own hips in rhythm against Seven's thigh, she traced casing and wires, tasting a metallic tang. Seven was moaning louder now, thrusting against her fingers, which she pushed in and out harder. When she put her tongue into one of the actual ports for connection to the alcove, she could have sworn she felt a flicker of energy, but Seven cried out and jerked away--"Too much!" So Kathryn moved to the margins, the seams where metal met warm human flesh, licking them, sucking at them, until Seven's heat and sounds and the sensual movements of her ass were too much, and Kathryn came, hard, spilling her pleasure onto Seven's upper thigh, and taking the other woman with her when she hooked her fingers inside her, until both of them were spent, splayed out one on top of the other. 'Pretty' Kathryn thought with returning coherence. Seven stirred first, though, gently dislodging her captain and rolling to face her.

"I would like to experience touching you."

It was Kathryn's turn to cock an eyebrow.

"Please, begin," She was the one spread out now, on her back, with Seven kneeling beside her (still covered, she noticed with satisfaction, with colorful marks).

Seven lay into her with talented hands and ample creativity. She trailed maddening fingertips across her torso, then pressed her with palms, kneading the flesh. Fascinated with the mounds of her breasts, Seven squeezed them, then scraped them with her fingernails, then pinched them, then pulled and twisted tiny coral-colored nipples. And always Kathryn was aware of the difference: one touch the yielding warmth of flesh, the other the sharp intensity of metal.

"Your mouth" she moaned, missing the eyebrow Seven raised quizzically before complying, lowering full lips to the underside of her breast and sliding her hands lower, lower. As Seven stroked and squeezed her silky inner thighs, Kathryn felt, through her gathering haze of pleasure, a strange, warm, buzzing sensation. She raised her head, confused.

"Seven, what are you doing?"

"I am capable of altering my implants to emit low-level electromagnetic radiation. I thought you might find it pleasurable."

Kathryn opened her mouth to protest, but the pulsating warmth slid closer to the juncture of her legs, almost brushing her labia, and somehow she couldn't bring herself to resist. /Can't hurt to try it.../

And then, Seven's hot mouth was chewing on her nipple, and both of her hands were parting her sex, exploring. Human fingers found her clit and she moaned, rotating her hips against them. Then they stroked down to enter her and Borg fingers found her clit and she cried out in pleasure, arching her back. The sensation--stroking pleasure combined with subtle vibration combined with penetrating energy--was irresistible.

Seven suddenly removed her hands and sat back on her heels. Kathryn moaned in protest.

"Which hand? Choose."

Kathryn just writhed "I don't care, just touch me," she breathed.

"No, choose."

Kathryn opened her eyes and met Seven's. She was holding her hands out toward Kathryn, one pale and lithe, the other wired and tipped with sinewy metal.

"Which pleasure do you want, human, or Borg?"

Taken aback, Kathryn lowered her eyes to the hands, studying them. Her clit throbbed, and, setting her jaw, she removed her hand from Seven's thigh and reached for it. But, without taking her eyes off her face, Seven captured her wrist in a bruising grip and shifted to pin it under her knee.

"I will give you pleasure, and you will choose."

Breathing hard, Kathryn considered making a more valiant effort to free her hand, but instead she took in Sevens face again--there was a quiet determination in it that matched her own.

"Let me go, Seven."

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, and then, very slowly, Seven raised her knee to release her arm. She lifted it, and her hand hovered between Sevens. And then she reached out and her fingers tangled in Sevens slender ones, pulling the human hand toward...her face. She used her other hand to push Seven's heavenly Borg digits towards her demanding cunt. She sucked Seven's fingers into her mouth, tasting herself, and as Seven touched her, she bit down, hard, stifling her moan of pleasure. Seven winced but she soothed the bite with her tongue before she could pull away. She removed Seven's hand from her mouth and guided it between her knees.

"Touch yourself." she demanded, "touch yourself like you're touching me, I want to watch you. Fuck yourself with those fingers Sev...ah"

Her words turned into a moan as Seven again pressed an electronically humming digit against her clit. Awash in the sensation, one hand gripping Seven's knee with bruising force, the other wrapped around the edge of the bed, she struggled to keep her eyes open and focused on the woman kneeling next to her, on the long pale fingers stroking and pinching engorged flesh, on the hips moving in time to her own. With technological advantage, Seven was pushing her to the edge with dizzying speed, and then she fell, an intense orgasm ripping through her from her center. It seemed to last forever, the waves of fire, and when she finally went limp, she looked over to see Seven, head bowed, fingers dripping with the evidence of her own orgasm.

When shed collected herself enough to move, she lifted a heavy arm and pulled Seven down to the bed. The young woman obediently stretched out next to her, on her stomach, head turned toward her. Kathryn didn't know what to say.

"Well?"

"I believe I have gathered ample data on human sexual practices."

"...Do you have to regenerate any time soon?"

"I am not required to regenerate until 1600h, but nevertheless my body's resources seem uncharacteristically depleted."

"Have you ever tried sleep?"

"Is that the activity you are going to engage in at this time?"

"Yes."

"Very well, I will attempt it."

Kathryn handed her a pillow and watched as she gingerly laid her head on it and closed her eyes. She studied the face, exotic with the implant curving over one eye. Somehow cuddling or stroking Seven didn't seem right. But she put out one hand, laying her palm on Seven's lower back, over the tip of her spinal implant. As she closed her own eyes, she realized something: she felt...good, peaceful. A smile played around the corners of her lips. /Maybe it is time to re-evaluate my personal policies about fraternization with my crew.../