"Ensign? Ensign Stevens? Are you having difficulty functioning?"
Simon finally tore his eyes away from the body of the statuesque woman towering over him, with her hands crossed behind her back. He removed his goggles and glanced up at Seven of Nine, the most recent addition to the Voyager crew. He set his hyperspanner down and pulled himself free from the Jefferies tube, leaving his work behind in favour of conversing with the beauty he had only seen from afar up till that moment.
The ex-Borg had been a member of the regular crew for just shy of two months, proving herself to be a capable member of the team, utilising her enhanced physiology to maintain the ship's systems with an efficiency that dwarfed that of even the most experienced of engineers. But that still didn't help to endear her to the already suspicious crew, with the use of her Borg implants only serving as a constant reminder of what she once was, and what she was still capable of.
But like many of the other male members of the crew, the prim cyborg unknowingly attracted more than a few pairs of wandering eyes wherever she went. The silver catsuit that adorned her lithe body conformed to every sculpted curve, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Despite being designed to aid with the recovery process stemming from her de-assimilation process, it had quite a profound effect it wasn't intended during ots conception. But Simon could only wonder if the ex-Borg could comprehend the allure she possessed, whether her near emotionless condition allowed her to have a capacity for desire.
"Seven? Sorry, I was working on the regulator for the replicators, I've had to put the mess hall under quarantine just in case. Did you need something?" Simon asked, grimacing when the replicator unit whirred chaotically, spawning a cup of sickly green coffee.
"Captain Janeway sent me to assist you," Seven raised a delicate brow when the coffee began to bubble, coating the the unit with a frothy green mist, "she believes that the issue is starting to spread exponentially."
"I could tell," Simon shut the replicator off before it became even more unpredictable. "I've done everything I could think of, but it only seems to make things worse."
"Perhaps you should not be focusing your attention on separate units," Seven suggested, moving in front of the exposed internals, bending over to give her own assessment of the circuitry running through the tube beneath the replicator, unaware of the tantalising sight she provided Simon with as a result. "This design seems highly inefficient, but I have come to expect this from Starfleet. You have security overrides clashing with the molecular fabricator. One is attempting to throttle the type of creations it will allow, the other is pushing itself beyond its parameters."
"You can see all that from just a quick glance?" Simon asked, blinking as his eyes traced along the arch Seven's body formed, incapable of resisting the need to stare when such an opportunity presented itself.
"Of course. The majority of my implants have been removed, but my ocular sensors are still mostly in tact," Seven replied, leaning further into the exposed gap, "they provide me with an insight that most of the primitive tools aboard Voyager lack."
"So... you have enhanced vision?" Simon almost groaned when his eyes landed on Seven's rear, which had only become even more pronounced by the silver material.
"Correct, I can pick up on things that would typically go unnoticed by the average organic lifeforms. And that includes the frequent stares of certain crew members," Seven straightened back up, staring at a guilty looking Simon, though her eyes didn't hold the accusatory gleam he would have expected from any other woman.
"Sorry, I just couldn't stop myself," Simon admitted, knowing just how weak the excuse sounded.
"Curious. Ever since I obtained this uniform, a large number of male crew members -- and a few females -- seemed to have developed a sudden fascination with me. It is... unusual," Seven stared at Simon, scrutinizing him in a way only an ex-Borg could, "the practice of looking at one another is non-existent within the Collective. In simple terms, drones do not stare. Explain."
"Explain? Well, it's easy," Simon shrugged, deciding in favour of tearing the band-aid off rather than drawing it out, "you're an attractive woman. I can't fully explain the nature behind it, but I just find myself checking you out when we think you're not looking. At least, before I found out that you're always aware of your surroundings."
"Fascinating, you envision yourself copulating with me?" Seven inquired, observing the human's face when it turned a bright shade of red. "Ensign, are your blood vessels compromised?"
"No, you just caught me off guard," Simon coughed, desperately wishing that the replicator was up and fully operational, needing a hard drink to wash away the embarrassment. "Well, if you want me to be honest, the yes, I do have thoughts about 'copulating' with you."
"Then my assumption was correct," Seven nodded, striding over to a nearby steel table, knocking her hand against the top, satisfied by the sound it produced. "This platform should suffice."
"Suffice? For what," Simon asked.
"For precisely what you stated," Seven snapped her collar open, separating the seam holding the top half of her uniform, pulling it apart to reveal her firm breasts, as well as her bare pussy, "copulation. The Captain wants me to develop my understanding of human nature, this seems to be a useful means of building up data."
"You must be joking me?" Simon choked. "You have to be kidding?"
Despite his abrupt protest, his gaze went off in exploration, scanning Seven's silky smooth skin, which surprisingly lacked the presence of the sort of implants that covered her hand and eye. Fraternization with Seven could have broken a number of Starfleet's ethical standards, but Simon found himself not caring about the rules for once, a rarity for an ardent supporter of sticking to the code of conduct. His mind might have begged for sense, but it was overpowered by the blood that rushed to his groin.
"I am Borg, I do not 'joke'," Seven stated bluntly, sliding back onto the table, leaning until her back was laid flat against the hard surface, with her heels planted in preparation for what would come. "My time is valuable, Ensign, I do not have long until I need to return to my alcove to recharge. If you wish to live out this fantasy of yours, now is the time."
Any hesitation he still had was tossed aside, prompted by the offer he knew he had no intention on refusing. Simon scrambled over to the table, stumbling as he tore his crisp uniform apart, pulling his fly open in the process. By the time he mounted the table, he managed to pull his cock out, jerking it rapidly as he settled between the splayed legs of the cyborg, guiding the tip towards her delicate mound. Once he had his head pressed against her slit, Simon couldn't hold himself back, dropping his hips hard enough to plunge into her tunnel.
"Aah, you're so tight!" Simon breathed, bracing himself when he thrusted his manhood, feeling a degree of stimulation that far exceeded anything he had ever experienced. "It's incredible!"
