The BLTS Archive- Colonizing the Body
by MS. Russo (jlr@babealicious.net)

---

Archiving: ASCEM, of course.  Others, I'd love it.  Just let me know
it's happening.

Feedback: Is greatly appreciated but must be emailed to me, since
I'm not reading the ng right now.

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.

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 <not to mention come> all over
himself the minute he got within a foot of her.  He'd never be
able to handle her.  <He doesn't understand this>/ 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 <the chance to finally completely possess that body>--/  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.

<chirp>

"Janeway to Seven."

"Seven here."

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

"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 Seven's 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.../

---

The End