Voyager Seven Explores

Captain's Log, Stardate 50989.4: after a series of challenging misadventures, including our recent experience with the Borg, it has been a time of unusual quiet aboard

Voyager

. This sector of space is -- perhaps, mercifully -- devoid of bizarre phenomena and indigenous species. It has given us all a chance to relax and unwind; the crew has been in need of some

downtime

, and it's nice to be able to accommodate them for once. On a personal note, I am concerned for the well-being of our latest addition: Seven of Nine. Over the past few days, she has been less than her typically efficient self; she's becoming agitated, forgetful, even disorganised.

Her performance, however, remains in the realms of the acceptable, and I suppose a period of skittish behaviour would not be uncommon after what she has gone through in the last few weeks. All I can do is wait and watch, and hope that, if something is troubling her, she'll come to me or the Doctor for guidance

.

Before she could complete her log entry, the door to Captain Kathryn Janeway's quarters chimed. The captain frowned, wondering who would be bothering her at this time of night. Alpha shift should've been soundly asleep, while beta shift kept things ticking over. Janeway set down the padd on the glass-topped coffee table, and tied a honey-coloured kimono around her waist; after straightening out her unruly mane of reddish hair, she felt presentable enough to deal with whomever it was. "

Come

!"

With a soft hiss of undulating servo-mechanisms, the door slid smoothly open and admitted Seven of Nine. The statuesque woman had been liberated from the Borg Collective around a month earlier, and Janeway and her crew had -- albeit grudgingly -- tried to turn her into one of their own. Apart from a few residual implants that the Doctor could not remove, as their functioning was vital to her well-being, she looked near-enough human. "Excuse me, Captain," she said falteringly, her eyes widening slightly at Janeway's attire. "I didn't realise you were regenerating. I shall return at a more convenient hour."

"That's all right," Janeway replied, holding up a hand to halt her departure. She smiled a little at Seven's misapprehension.

Of course, she's been a Borg for so long, she wouldn't know the difference between sleep and regeneration

. "Come in, sit down. What can I do for you?"

Clad in the metallic blue dermal coverings that the Doctor had fashioned to help heal the necrotic tissue of her skin -- the Borg, being partly cybernetic creatures, often neglected upkeep of their organic components -- every curve of her slender, flexible body was readily apparent, and when she sat, the tightening of the uniform put

everything

on display. Janeway couldn't help noting that Seven, apparently, went without undergarments of any sort.

Well, naturally, the dermal bandages need to be in constant contact with her epidermis

.

The younger woman looked uncomfortable, even tense. It wasn't like her to be quiet, especially when she had something to say; Seven was not the least bit recalcitrant, and would often argue her viewpoint long after the captain had made her decision. It was something that pleased and infuriated Janeway: she wanted the former drone to assert her individuality, but she also had to realise that she existed within a command structure. It was a difficult act to balance. The captain shook her head, trying to focus. "Well?"

Seven looked around the cabin; every detail was already familiar to her, as her photographic memory recorded everything that had ever happened to her.

Including every scream of every individual I ever assimilated

. Her mouth went dry. "It is a ... personal matter. It is not something I wish to inform the Doctor of, however, due to its sensitivity. As you are no doubt aware, my performance has been slipping as of late. I am unable to focus on my work as once I did, due to the influx of new thoughts and sensations since I was freed from the Collective."

Janeway nodded her understanding.

Voyager

's holographic doctor may have an extensive database of knowledge, but his bedside manner and overeager presence could sometimes have the exact opposite effect of what he intended. "What sort of ... thoughts and sensations?"

"While I was part of the Collective," Seven said, a scarlet shade reddened her cheeks, "certain

biological

aspects tend to go overlooked. They are

irrelevant

." That word, so typical of Borg communication, referred to

anything

that didn't involve the quest for assimilation and dominance over other species. "I am referring to sexuality."

An eyebrow rose slightly on Janeway's face, and for the sake of not embarrassing the former drone, she had to bury the wry grin threatening to break out on her lips. "Well, now that you're free of the Borg, I expect all manner of things you've previously thought irrelevant are suddenly, well, relevant. It can be quite confusing, but you know that I and the Doctor will help you in any way we can." The captain idly wondered:

is that why she's here? Does she want

my

help with this

problem

?

Seven could've had her pick of the crew; with her ferocious intelligence, often acerbic sense of humour, to say nothing of her formidable good looks, men and women had often been found staring at her in the corridors. It wasn't that she was

shy

as such, but she simply had no idea how to go about procuring a mate.

"There are, uh, members of the crew who I know would be willing to help guide you in matters concerning intimacy," the captain was saying. "Lieutenant Jaris is an Argelian, and they're very open when it comes to sex. There's also Tom Paris, of course. Maybe the

bad boy

isn't your type, however," she added with a dry smile.

Looking hesitant, Seven of Nine's eyes drifted downwards, and she couldn't help noticing Janeway's strong, athletic legs. So many years spent dodging death in the Delta Quadrant had given her a lithe, powerful figure to go with the commanding attitude. "Frankly, Captain, I was hoping that my first experience would be with a female. My research suggests that they are more ... sympathetic to the desires of other females."

"Understandable," replied the captain. Seven wanted to feel

safe

, to be nurtured rather than pushed. "I'm sure there are, um, compatible women amongst the crew who would be happy to ..."

"I was hoping that you would provide the ... initial experience, Captain," Seven said, blurting the sentence out quickly before she had a chance to swallow the words and scurry away back to Cargo Bay 2.

A dumbstruck expression crossed the captain's face, and both her eyebrows shot skyward. Stupidly, all she could say was, "Really?"

Saying nothing, all Seven could do was shuffle miserably in her seat. She wasn't used to putting herself on the line like this, where her feelings were in danger, and she felt ... acutely chagrined by the whole situation; as a Borg, Seven was used to being in control of her body, being in control of maintaining its systems, but there was none of that now. She was a victim to random biological processes like every other human in the galaxy.

"That's, um," Janeway found herself lost for words for one of the few times in her life. "I'm very flattered, Seven, that you would consider me as a ... a mentor in this capacity."

"The distracting thoughts I have experienced-," Seven said, looking beyond the transparent aluminium window to a distant nebula. It gave the room a faint bluish glow that calmed her down somewhat. She realised she was zoning out and shook her head. "The distracting thoughts I mentioned earlier are ... fantasies, I believe. They involve members of the crew in various, um, narratives. Predominantly, they feature you." The blue tint wasn't hiding Seven's red one. "If this is inappropriate behaviour, I apologise. You have always encouraged me to come to you when dealing with difficult aspects of humanity, however."

Janeway sat down on the edge of her bed, scratching the back of her neck. "I'm glad you did," she said, smiling at the former Borg drone, putting her at her ease. "This is one of the more complex facets of human behaviour, and until you truly know what you want, I'd feel as though ... I were taking advantage."

"If you wish me to leave," Seven replied, trying not to sound hurt. She understood the captain's position, but couldn't help feeling a pang of rejection knot around her stomach. The former drone stood and made to leave.

"Stay!" Janeway said firmly, in the tone she often used on the bridge when she would brook no argument from anyone, even Seven. "Remove your clothes, please."

For just a second, Seven seemed reluctant, but her lips began to curl into a small smile. "Yes, Captain," she said, and her hands went for the clasp at the back of the uniform. Janeway watched her intently as she slipped out of the skin-tight outfit; her flesh was pale, and it still showed mottling from where Borg implants had once protruded, but it was looking a lot healthier than how Janeway had last seen it, and she was grateful that Seven was on her way to a full recovery.

So many people would throw away a fortune in latinum for one second of the sight I'm seeing right now before me

, thought Janeway, not able to conceal a smirk. All thoughts about the impropriety of a captain taking advantage of a junior member of the crew were banished as the young woman stood fully naked before her.

And what a sight it is

.

For a start, her breasts were larger than they appeared; the bandages had obviously been stifling their true girth, and Janeway estimated that they were at least half a cup size bigger than she'd initially assumed. Her body was toned and fit, thanks to the Doctor's muscle-rebuilding concoctions that repaired the tendons ruined by the Borg's surgical techniques. Her legs were long and sinewy, and Janeway had no doubt that the former drone would best her in the academy marathon.

Also, they could squeeze the life out of anyone foolish enough to get caught between them

.

Janeway's eyes drifted to Seven's pubic region; either the hair there hadn't been regrown, or she kept it shaved, because it was completely bare and her pink lips gently protruded.

Seven swallowed loudly, refocusing Janeway's attention on her beautiful face. Funny how she'd never noticed before how her cobalt eyes glittered.

Or was it an effect of the nebula?

The eye on the right was a biogenic implant, she remembered, but it matched so perfectly with her organic eye it was impossible to tell. "Do you find me pleasing?"

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, Seven," Janeway replied. It was the only answer she could give: the young Borg woman was ... perfection. "Turn around and sit down here," she said, motioning to between her splayed legs on the bed.

Following the captain's instructions precisely, Seven positioned herself between Janeway's legs; she was still hunched over, however, looking tense. Janeway motioned herself forward slightly until the former drone's back was against the soft fabric of her robe. "You're more tense than a Melvaran cat afraid it's going to be stung by mud fleas." Slowly, Janeway began to rub Seven's shoulders, trying to ease the knot that gripped the younger woman like a vice. "Try and relax."

Soon, the rubbing began to have the desired effect; as if a live wire had been connected from her neck and shoulders to between her legs, Seven felt an unfamiliar electricity building inside her pelvis. The effect was only increased when she felt soft, moist lips on the nape of her neck. Seven shivered, feeling goosebumps forming on her newly-healed skin.

As Janeway's hands slid around her chest, encompassing her breasts, the former Borg drone sighed. "Does this feel good?"

"Pleasant," Seven said simply, and Janeway realised that Seven's sexual vocabulary was probably decidedly stunted.

We'll have to work on that some day, I think

. "Very pleasant."

Janeway's own vagina was beginning to get warm; she had her own needs, of course, but they had to go unfulfilled as there was no one that she could become intimate with without ruining the ship's command structure. Her own two hands had become her best friends in recent years. It contributed to a sense of urgency on her part, and she began to grope Seven's breasts harder, while teasing and caressing her nipples, excited by the way they hardened in response to her touch.

A moan escaped Seven's delicately-parted lips and Janeway was drawn to her mouth; the lips were pale, almost bloodless, but large and full, and a wet, pink tongue hung on them. The captain's hands trailed slowly downwards, stroking Seven's taut stomach, before alighting on her smooth, creamy thighs.

Those muscular thighs that could collapse neutronium

.

"Captain, this is," Seven began, but she didn't have the words to finish that sentence. "I am experiencing a degree of

immanency

, however."

"Patience," snapped the captain, reminding the younger woman just

who

was in charge of the situation here. "It doesn't pay to rush these things, you know."

"Sorry, Captain," the former Borg drone said contritely, and Janeway was quietly amused by the deadpan expression of mock dolour she conjured. "I will endeavour to restrain my-," was as far as she got for the captain had just slid one finger inside her tight, wet vagina. Before she had even gotten it all the way in, the former Borg drone's moans intensified and a torrent of milky liquid was unleashed. Her entire body went rigid, she pushed back against Janeway, and the captain could feel her finger being compressed by Seven's highly-developed muscles.

Eventually, the wave of euphoria subsided and Janeway retrieved her bruised finger, flexing it experimentally to ensure she had no need of the EMH's services.

All too soon, Seven of Nine was in control of herself; if she hadn't been naked, and her inner thighs hadn't been coated with fluids, she could've been simply attending to her daily tasks. "That was extremely pleasurable, Captain. You are injured?" she added with a trace of concern.

"Nothing," Janeway said as she held the former Borg drone's waist tenderly, content just to inhale the heady scent of her sweat and juices. "Did you like that?"

Seven nodded, scarcely able to accept that such pleasure was even possible; up until this point, she had thought that the harmonious voice of the Collective had been the pinnacle of organic bliss. It seems that she was mistaken in that assumption.

"Then," Janeway said mischievously, cutting into the former drone's thoughts, "I think you'll like

this

even more." Before Seven could ask, the captain had two fingers deep inside her damp vagina; with them thrusting in and out of her, she was already on the brink, but when Janeway began to use the index finger of her other hand to trace a lazy circle around her clitoris, it was that which pushed her over the cliff.

"Oh, my ...-," Seven said, feeling her entire vocabulary subprocessor giving up in its search to find a suitable word or expression to fit in this hitherto unknown realm of delight that she was experiencing.

If the Borg Queen used these techniques, very few species would resist assimilation

, she found herself thinking before her brain short-circuited.

Janeway held the young woman tight in her arms as the orgasm rocketed through her body; her skin, already drenched in sweat from before, felt like it was burning up. Every single muscle in her body was rigid, taut to the point of snapping, before softening as the pleasure coursed through her. For a long time afterwards, Seven was content just to quiver in the wake of the experience.

"So, Seven," said Janeway, nuzzling softly against the former Borg drone's ear. "How was it? Your first orgasm?"

"Very ..." It seemed as though she still couldn't find the right way to express herself, so she settled for gripping Janeway's hands and holding them around her stomach. "Pleasant. Extremely pleasurable."

"You've really never done anything like this before?" the captain asked, amazed.

There was nothing more human than asserting one's sexuality, but then, she was assimilated so young, and she never even had the chance to experience the joys of growing into a beautiful young woman

. A pang of sympathy flooded through her. Seven had been forced, with implants and surgery over an eighteen-year-period, into the person she was now.

"I have done some research on the computer on the sexual practices of various species, but they struck me as ... limited when attempted by oneself," explained Seven. "I think that this was the correct way to attack the problem," she added, squeezing Janeway's hand.

A long moment went by; they looked out the window, both finding the view of the nebula drifting by enchanting. Janeway imagined the beta shift team on the bridge running all sorts of scans on it; for one of the few times in her life, amazingly, she found that was

glad

that there were others to do the work she would normally want to do herself.

"Captain?" asked Seven, managing to turn herself around, despite being rather shaky after all the energy had been knocked out of her body. "Would it be appropriate to, um,

reciprocate

?"

"Yes, Seven," the captain replied, hoping that the former drone would not want to end their dalliance so soon. "That would be entirely appropriate." She stood up and untied the robe, letting it fall down her broad shoulders slowly; underneath, she had on a pair of silky white panties that were clammy from sweat and the moisture from Janeway's aroused vagina.

Seven of Nine had been expecting Janeway's body to be in shape, knowing that life in the Delta Quadrant had kept her physically active, but she knew the captain wasn't vain and hadn't expected it to be in quite the peak condition that it was. She was momentarily lost for words. "Captain," she said, biting her lower lip, "your breasts are wonderful."

It was Janeway's turn to blush and she felt her desire growing under the scrutiny from the former Borg drone. It had been a while since she had presented herself to someone in this way. "Thank you."

Hesitantly, Seven of Nine reached out to touch Janeway's firm breasts; once she felt the soft, yielding flesh, she felt more comfortable and began to squeeze them in the manner that the captain had done with her own earlier. "May I ...-," but rather than complete the question, she felt emboldened enough to lean down and take the aroused nipple in her mouth.

"Yes," the captain said, enjoying the attentions of Seven's delicate, perfect lips on her engorged nipple. "That's good. Just like that," she added breathily.

Seven's inexperienced hands explored her captain's body; her research had indicated that certain areas responded to different intensities of touch, but there was a difference between theory and practice, but she ploughed on gamely. She moved her hands down Janeway's sides, kneading the flesh of her hips, before gripping her firm, silk-clad behind and squeezing it; this elicited an audible gasp from the captain, followed by a sigh of gratification.

Janeway, for her part, was consumed by desire, need,

lust

. She tried to keep her legs straight, knowing that she only needed to lose focus for a moment to keel over, but when she felt something cool and metallic probing at her vagina, she could no longer trust herself to remain standing; the captain fell backward on to the bed, Seven deftly laying her out on the mattress in a movement that was swift, and more to the point,

efficient

.

The metallic object turned out to be the glove-like apparatus entwined in the flesh of Seven of Nine's right hand; it was part of the assimilation mechanism, and as it was an important part of the Borg nanoprobes' functioning, the Doctor had elected to leave it as part of her body. It made the fingers of her right hand about twice as thick, and despite the coldness of the metal, Janeway was

curious

as to how it would feel inside her.