Just Between Lovers 
G. L. Dartt

The captain of USS Voyager glanced up from the padd she was working on, her concentration interrupted by the soft chime to her ready room sounded. A small, compact woman with auburn hair and level blue-grey eyes, Kathryn Janeway possessed an aura of command and authority, an energy that surrounded her immediate vicinity with a vibrant vitality. She shifted in her high backed chair, turning it so that it faced the door.
"Come."
The door slid back with a muted hiss, admitting the ship's astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine. Late of the Borg Collective, she was a physically imposing figure, standing six feet tall in a skintight blue-grey outfit revealing a curvaceous body. Her blonde hair, a few strands escaping to fall about the narrow, full-lipped features, was pulled back into an austere bun. Her eyes were a chilling ice-blue. The left was framed by a gray metallic eyepiece while on her right cheek, where jawline met the bottom of her ear, a starburst implant gave stark testimony to her time as a cybernetic drone.
Janeway thought Seven was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, an appreciation tempered only lightly by the fact that she was completely in love with the young woman. She smiled and stood up, moving toward her partner with distinct pleasure. "Annika."
"Captain," Seven returned coolly, and Janeway hesitated, knowing that the use of her rank, rather than her name by the young woman, meant it was ship's business that had brought Seven to her ready room.
Janeway sighed and leaned back against her desk, folding her arms across her chest. "Go ahead."
A week or so earlier, the ship had been caught in the wake of a quantum slipstream conduit, sustaining heavy damage to its structure and many systems. Voyager's chief engineer, Lt. B'Elanna Torres, and operations officer, Lt. Harry Kim, had both been in sickbay, recovering from the toxic effects of a poison administered by the same fugitive who had stolen the runabout and utilized the slipstream drive. As a result, Seven had been forced to take over many of their tasks, working double and triple shifts, utilizing her Borg enhanced stamina and endurance to work round the clock on the repairs. Borg enhancements notwithstanding, Janeway could see the shadows staining the young woman's cheeks, and the hint of strain around her pale eyes.
"We have managed to restore all engineering room systems," Seven reported in her cool, precise voice. "The replicator system will take much longer to repair." She handed Janeway a padd, and the captain frowned as she studied the readings.
"I guess this means Neelix is back to being our cook full time again," Janeway said without enthusiasm. "I'll inform him as to his duties, as well as send out instructions maintaining our rationing protocols. It's a good thing we had food supplies on hand, but I doubt they'll last long. We're going to have to look for more very quickly." She read over the rest of the report, made a few notations, then glanced up at Seven who was waiting patiently, hands linked behind her back, standing at easy attention. "What about the deflector array?"
"It only requires a few more adjustments. It will be fully functional by the end of the day, at which time, we can once again activate the warp drive."
"Excellent," Janeway said approvingly. She placed the padd on her desk, and tilted her head slightly as she regarded her partner closely.
"You didn't wake me this morning when you left." Her voice gentled, becoming less professional, and a great deal more personal.
"I was required in the engine room," Seven responded evenly, though her eyes warmed slightly. "I saw no reason to disturb you. You required sleep."
"Since I slept for fifteen hours straight, I guess I can't argue with you, but you need your sleep as well, Annika. I've just been informed that both B'Elanna and Harry have been released from sickbay, and are ready to resume their duties. Consider yourself relieved. I want you to return to our quarters, and get some rest."
"That is not necessary," Seven protested mildly.
"It's an order," Janeway replied, injecting a touch of steel into her tone
Seven's eyebrow raised slightly. "Yes, Captain," she said, faint surprise tinging her tone.
Janeway's lips twitched, and she reached out her hand. Seven hesitated before she accepted it, allowing the captain to pull her into an embrace, where she wrapped her arms around the slender waist, her face pressed against the smooth silk of Seven's throat.
"I'm sorry if that sounded short, darling," Janeway murmured apologetically. "I just want you alert and rested when I come home."
"For what purpose?" The captain smiled as she heard the hint of humor in the Borg's tone, feeling it warm her all the way through.
Though Janeway and the Borg had shared a personal relationship for almost a year, a recent explosion had robbed the captain of her memory, leaving a blank stretching back three years to a time before she had even met the young woman, let alone fallen in love with her. The captain had been forced to rely on ship's mission logs, as well as her own personal entries, to fill in the missing gaps while she and Seven tried to rebuild their previous closeness. It was a slow process, but eventually they had managed to nurture the fragile bond that formed between them into a very real, and very deep, love. Still, they had not resumed their physical intimacy, mostly due to lack of opportunity. Now that this latest crisis had passed, Janeway had every intention of solidifying their emotional connection with a physical union.
"I think you know," Janeway said quietly, leaning back to look up into the fine features.
Seven bent down, her lips brushing over the captain's. "I believe I do."
Janeway deepened the kiss, her lips parting, and she explored Seven's mouth hungrily, tasting the desire and devotion awaiting her. When they finally separated, Janeway laughed shakily. "This is neither the time nor place, but soon. In the meantime, please get some sleep, darling."
"I will comply," the Borg promised. They kissed once more, then Seven smiled faintly at her, turned and left the ready room.
Janeway leaned back against her desk, her lips quirked in a half grin as she stared at the door that had closed in her partner's wake. It was hard to be both captain and woman, to maintain a personal relationship along with a professional one but somehow she was managing, due in no little part, to the remarkable woman she had found herself involved with. She wondered what would have happened had she never made the decision to strand Voyager here in the Delta Quadrant, 75,000 light years from the Federation. It had been a long journey these past five years, with still a long way to go, but in one way, the whole experience had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. To have met Seven of Nine, to have fallen in love with her, to have the young woman return that love ... sometimes Janeway thought that fate had some plan for her, and part of that destiny was to be with Annika.
Janeway shook her head slightly, as she always did when she allowed herself to grow introspective, an occurrence that seemed to be increasing lately. It appeared to be one of the side effects of her injury, the captain forced to relearn a great many things, not only about the history she was missing, but about herself and the person she was now. Though some of her memories had returned, they were mere fragments, detached and frequently without context. She found that the person she was becoming was a great deal more complex than she had ever believed herself capable. More thoughtful and yet, at the same time, more emotional it seemed, as if she now carried her feelings much closer to the surface, not as willing to suppress them as she had before. It was an interesting experience, and she counted herself fortunate that she had someone like Seven to share it with.
She took a breath, and settled back behind her desk. There was still a lot of work to be done before she could log off duty.
Before she could go home. 

 
"The time is 1600 hours." 
Seven's eyes flew open as she woke, fully alert and functional, an effect of her Borg enhancements. She had been asleep for six hours, more than sufficient for her unique physiology to refresh and restore her equilibrium. As she sat up, she listened for a brief second, hearing nothing beyond the steady hum of the warp drive, the subtle currents of the life support system, sensing no presence in the quarters beyond the bedroom door. Kathryn had yet to return.
Slipping from between the sheets, she quickly remade the bed, stripping away the linens and replacing them with silken bedding, non-Starfleet issue and designed for a specific purpose. The thought of that purpose made Seven flush, and she had to take a second to compose herself, forcing down on the anticipation and desire that threatened to get the better of her. Moving into the ensuite, she activated the sonic shower, programming it to the highest intensity. The sonic waves tended to give the captain headaches, even at the lowest register, so Seven usually saved the full setting for when she was alone, delighting in the heavy vibration that disintegrated dirt and dust from both flesh and implant, leaving her clean and tingling.
Hesitating over her wardrobe that took up only the smallest percentage of the closet she shared with the captain, she frowned, trying to choose something to wear. She possessed four biometric outfits. The traditional brown mesh that she wore most frequently on duty. A blue-grey suit that was her personal favorite because of how its color resembled a certain Starfleet Captain's eyes. A silver biotech suit that she hated for what it represented. Finally, a black workout outfit she used for playing Velocity. For the first time in her life, the young woman wished she had something more ... delicate, more feminine, fashionable rather than functional. She eyed the civilian clothing hanging next to the dress uniforms on Kathryn's side of the closet with a touch of envy. Though the captain did not have many dresses, the ones she kept as a permanent part of her wardrobe were both elegant and attractive. Seven knew that Kathryn would probably not object to her wearing any of those clothes, but the difference in their size and body mass made such an attempt impossible. 
Abruptly, Seven's eye was caught by the stack of pyjamas sitting on the shelf at the top of the closet. They had been a gift presented her by Kathryn during their enstrangement, intended to replace the staid, iron grey Starfleet-issued nightwear she traditionally wore. Boasting a variety of colors and materials, they were the most feminine things the young woman possessed, and it occurred to her that perhaps one of those garments would be an acceptable alternative to her normal outfits for what she hoped would be a most special occasion.
She selected a red pair made of a silk, a deep crimson shade that granted her pale skin a rosy tinge, and moved wonderfully smooth against her skin. She took a few moments to brush out her long, blonde hair, leaving it free to fall about her shoulders and spill down her back. She wondered what she should wear on her feet since most of her outfits had the footwear attached as part of the suit, while the heavy soled Velocity boots were very inappropriate for the silky outfit she now had on. She glanced at the replicator. As a result of the damage to Voyager, the crew was back to strictly rationed use of the devices, limited to small single-serving food items for which they were issued five replication access strips a day. Absolute necessities could be replicated with the proper authorization, but she did not think a new pair of footwear to complement her outfit would be considered an acceptable necessity.
She would just have to go without, she decided, and left the ensuite. She was sorry that their puppy, Jake, an Irish Setter they had received on a mission some months before, was not currently in their quarters. She would have been enjoyed spending time with him before Kathryn's arrival, but with the recent crisis which had kept both Seven and Janeway occupied almost continually, it had seemed best that he be temporarily housed with Naomi Wildman, the ship's only child. The two young creatures seemed to enjoy being together, and Seven was content to know that the pup was being well taken care of until things returned to normal, and he could once again return home.
She glanced around the outer living area with a certain amount of dismay, realizing that their quarters had acquired a distinctly dingy tinge in the wake of their neglect the past few weeks. Taking some time to tidy the place, she used a specialized cleaning device that removed the dust from the furniture, and also cleaned the floor, leaving the rug spotless. She wondered what she should do about dinner, checking to see what remained of her supply of ration strips. Unfortunately, she had used two for her breakfast drink, and she could not make even the simplest of her recipes with only three ingredients. She regarded her small kitchenette dolefully, afraid that it was something which she would not have the opportunity to use in the near future. Unfortunate, because she had found the preparation of food a wonderfully creative and relaxing process.
Still, she did have wine and some candles. If she used her imagination, limited as it was, perhaps even her few remaining rations would provide a meal of sorts so that she and the captain would not have to go to the messhall this evening with the rest of the crew. She set the table, and then placed the candles about the room so that it was illuminated with a soft glow. She was contemplating the replicator thoughtfully when she heard the door hiss. She turned, smiling as she saw the captain enter.
"Annika, you look spectacular," Janeway said with a pleased smile, immediately coming over to the young woman to be embraced.
"I am glad you think so," Seven said, hugging her tightly. "But I have no shoes."
Startled, Janeway glanced down, raising an amused eyebrow as she regarded Seven's bare feet. "So I see. We'll have to replicate you some."
Seven shook her head. "I do not think that would be appropriate," she reminded the captain, who smiled at her gravity. "I have only three replicator rations left. It is difficult to come up with something for dinner that uses so few ingredients."
Janeway squeezed her. "I have three left myself, so surely if we pool them, we can come up with something acceptable.  Enough for both of us. Let me think about it while I change."
The captain pulled away, and disappeared into the ensuite. Seven drew a bottle of wine from a compartment in the kitchenette, disappointed to see that there were only two bottles remaining. They would have to start rationing that as well, she thought unhappily. The couple enjoyed a glass with dinner, as well as one afterward while relaxing. Perhaps, Seven considered, I can give up my share, allowing Kathryn to have more. She used her Borg-enhanced left hand to pry out the cork, setting the bottle on the counter to 'breathe'.
It wasn't long before Janeway joined her, dressed in a simple navy sheathe, one of her older outfits, but a personal favorite of Seven's. It was a garment which could be removed with remarkable ease, the Borg remembered with anticipation, and she smiled warmly at her partner.
"You are lovely."
"I think I remember you telling me something to that effect before," Janeway said dryly, wrapping her arm around the Borg's waist. "But I never tire of hearing it."
Seven noticed that the captain had added perfume to her pulse points, the delicate scent wafting into her nostrils, seming to raise her body temperature as she inhaled the provocative scent. She took a deep breath, and steadied herself, forcing her mind to concentrate on the matter at hand. "Do you have any recommendations for dinner?"
Janeway regarded her. "You still have spices on hand, don't you?"
Seven nodded. Her spices and sauces were kept separate from the rest, replicated several ounces at a time rather than a little for each meal. Several of the more common ones were stored in various compartments in her kitchenette. "I have ginger, oregano, garlic powder, onion powder, and Italian seasoning," she listed. "Also salt and pepper, two types of sugar, one container of oyster sauce, and another of steak sauce."
"All right, let's replicate two helpings of pasta, two helpings of tomato sauce, a pepper and one really large mushroom," Janeway suggested. "What can you do with that?"
Seven thought. "I can make spaghetti, without the meatballs, or the cheese."
"We'll have to survive the lack."
Seven hesitated. "We would not have any garlic bread either."
Janeway sighed. "You're right," she grumbled. "Damn, I'd forgotten how hard this is."
"We could avoid the pepper and mushroom. That would allow us rations for a half loaf of bread, and a pat of butter to which I can add garlic powder before toasting. Again, no cheese however."
"All right, let's do it that way." Janeway took a seat on the stool at the kitchen counter, and watched as Seven assembled her ingredients. She poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle, then seemed to realize how little remained and carefully poured half of it back. "We've been spoiled."
"Was it like this the first year Voyager was lost?" Seven asked as she replicated the simple tomato sauce devoid of seasonings or spices. Those she added in careful measurements before placing the container in a heating unit to simmer.
"Oh no, that was much worse," Janeway said, sipping her wine. "We were limited to three rations a day, and Neelix had no idea about Human taste buds at all. It's a wonder I didn't have a mutiny on my hands the first month." She smiled faintly, in bittersweet remembrance. "I hope we don't have to wait another four years for the replicators to be fully restored."
Seven shook her head. "I do not believe that will happen. The upgrades installed after the incursion to the Alpha Quadrant are more resilient than the original specifications, nor was the damage as severe. I anticipate it taking only two months."
Janeway did not seem appreciative of this time projection. "Is there any way to finish it earlier?"
"Not the food units," Seven reminded her. "It is too important to restore the engineering replicators first."
"Of course," Janeway said, waving her hand. She looked vaguely depressed, and Seven took a moment to reach across the table to touch her hand.
"We are alive and we are together. Nothing else matters."
Janeway looked at her and smiled briefly. "You're absolutely right, my love," she allowed, entwining her fingers with Seven's. "I have to remember what to be thankful for."
"There is still a great deal." Seven brought Janeway's palm up to her lips, kissing it gently, her eyes meeting the intent gaze of her partner. She was surprised at how passionate her partner's expression was, wanton as her fingers flexed to trace over the Borg's lips, and the young woman drew back uncertainly. "I must finish preparing dinner."
Janeway didn't take her eyes off her. "Of course," she agreed, her voice low with sensuality. "We certainly don't want to waste those rations, do we?"
Seven wavered. "Anticipation can enhance an experience," she insisted weakly.
"It certainly can. I've been anticipating this evening for as long as I can remember."
"I had planned for a romantic dinner." Seven felt her heart flutter in her chest. "Perhaps with dancing afterward?"
Janeway nodded gravely. "Whatever you want to do, my darling. I'm completely yours tonight."
Seven hesitated, very conscious of how her body was reacting. "I think ... it would be wise off the heating unit for the time being. There is no point in preparing and eating a meal if we are too distracted by other things to appreciate the food."
Janeway smiled, a slow, smoldering, seductive smile and held out her hand. "That's what I love about you, darling. You're so practical."
 
Janeway led Seven into the inner room by her hand, releasing her only when they were beside the bed. Picking up a device that had been left on the night stand, she used it to light the candles scattered over the shelf running along the wall. With a brief word, she brought down the lights so that the room was illuminated only by the tiny flames that gave everything a cozy, intimate glow. As she did, she was astonished and amused to find she was exceptionally nervous, actually trembling while she made these preparations, as if this was her first time engaging in a sexual experience. Yet, it wasn't even her first time with Seven. 
Except of course, it was. She realized that as she turned to look up into those pale eyes reflecting love and arousal ... and a trace of fear as well.
This is our first time, Janeway thought to herself, the first since we almost lost everything, the first I will remember for the rest of my life.
She swallowed hard, and rested her hands on Seven's arms, feeling the hard ridges of an implant on the Borg's right bicep through the thin material, the warmth of flesh on the left. She realized suddenly that she didn't even know what Seven looked like without clothes, what other implants lay beneath the silk pyjamas.
There was no clear memory of any of their previous times, and the one time they had slept together in the nude ... the previous evening ... she had been far too exhausted to notice details. Seven had been gone long before the captain awoke, and she wondered if the young woman had spent any time looking at her sleeping form before she left. That thought sent chills of desire down her spine, and she felt her hands tightened convulsively on the young woman's arms.
She laughed, and forced herself to ease her grip. "I'm scared."
Seven seemed to relax slightly at the admission. "I am, as well. I do not know why. We have made love many times."
"Not like this," Janeway pointed out quietly.
Seven regarded her with dark eyes. "No, not like this."
They looked at each other for a long moment, then Seven gently enfolded Janeway into her arms, holding her affectionately rather than with passion. "I believe in our love, Kathryn. I believe in you."
Janeway closed her eyes, hugging her gently. "Oh darling, so do I," she whispered. "I love you."
They held each other tightly, as if by unspoken agreement, not attempting anything further, just hanging on until the edge of fear had dissipated and their hearts had quieted somewhat.  Janeway felt Seven nuzzle her hair, and she took a long, deep breath, calming herself.
"Too much anticipation, I think," Janeway said ruefully.
"Perhaps." Seven began to rub the captain's back gently, soothingly.
Janeway let herself relax into that caress, and when it finally slowed, became lingering, more sensual, she responded fully. Raising her face to feel the brush of Seven's lips over her forehead, they trailed down her nose, finally reaching her mouth. The kiss was warm and sweet, but when it became gently demanding, Janeway melted into it, accepting the moist warmth of Seven's mouth, surrendering to it. She could feel the play of Seven's shoulder blades beneath her palms, and she pulled the young woman closer, delighting in the warmth of the embrace, the gentleness of her partner's touch. Heat rose within her, building slowly, more contained yet somehow stronger than what she had felt coming into the bedroom. She so wanted to appreciate this moment, wanted this first time to be special, to be everything it could be, especially for Seven who had stood by her refusal to rush their intimacy even when it hurt, and even when Janeway had been irritated with her. The captain wanted to show her partner that it was good they had waited, that now was the absolute perfect time, and that the young woman had been right all along.
I could get lost in these kisses, Janeway thought suddenly, marveling at their profound emotion, the concentrated intensity that absorbed her, leaving her completely submerged in Seven's tenderness. She smiled as Seven left her mouth briefly to trace a delicate line along her jaw, nibbling her earlobe.
"You're such a marvelous kisser," she whispered.
Seven drew back to look down at her, an amused look in the narrow features. "I had a very good teacher."
Janeway shook her head. "No darling, I may have started you off, but the rest is sheer natural ability." She looked up at her, studying the pale eyes full of love, the generous mouth and full lips that were moist and inviting. "You're absolutely my heart. Do you know that?"
"I do," Seven replied quietly. "I have loved only you, Kathryn. I do not believe I shall ever love another. I do not believe I am capable of it."
Touched, the captain pressed against her partner, and found herself swept up in another of those kisses, aware of Seven's hands sliding from her back up to her neck where the young woman slipped her fingers beneath the thin straps of Janeway's dress, easing them over the shoulders. Janeway felt them fall away, aware that the only thing keeping the garment up at this point was the fact that she was pressed so tightly against Seven. She swallowed hard, and deliberately stepped back a pace. The dress slipped easily down to puddle about her feet, almost as if it were designed to be removed that way.
Perhaps it was, she thought, the blood rising in her face as she stood before Seven, garbed only in the most frilly of lace underwear, a brief triangle of cloth covering the more natural one beneath. She slipped out of her shoes, her feet hidden in the crumpled dress, then moved closer to Seven, looking deep into the eyes that were roaming over her with honest appreciation.
"Do you like what you see?"
"I love what I see," Seven corrected promptly.
Janeway laughed softly, and found the top button of Seven's silk pyjama shirt. She was so glad she had given the young woman these delicate things, aware that Seven had truly appreciated them, but not nearly so much as Janeway did by the sight of her partner in them. Ironically, their very looseness gave Seven an erotic quality that her normal skintight outfits did not. Nor did it hurt that the young woman's hair was down, flowing gloriously about her face, making her appear so incredibly young and desirable.
The Borg stood quietly, eyes shining as Janeway carefully undid each button, pausing at times to kiss Seven's neck, her chin, lingering on the full mouth, resisting the immediate lure of the shadowed hints of the full breasts, and the flat plane of stomach. Finally, Janeway opened the shirt, pushing it off Seven's shoulders and arms where it dropped to the floor, revealing the full length of lovely torso in one motion.
"Exquisite," the captain murmured quietly, sliding gentle fingertips over Seven's arms, her shoulders, then down over the smooth slope of breasts to the rosy nipples that hardened as she passed. She continued her lazy exploration under and to the top of the soft swell of abdomen, over Seven's belly and hips, then up the bumpy ridge of spine before retracing the path once again. It was a slow exploration, carefull, as if they had all the time in the universe, as if she had not been dreaming and fantasizing about this moment for weeks on end, as if the sensation was not threatening to immolate her with its heat this very second.
Seven shivered under that featherlight stroking, and Janeway smiled, her eyes warm as she looked into the serious face. "I need to relearn everything about you. I have to discover your body all over again, particularly with what makes you feel good. You'll have to help me, darling."
"I shall," Seven promised in a low tone.
Janeway reached up and kissed her again, needing her with an incredible hunger, but determined to take her time, wanting to make it absolutely right for both of them. She found the waistband of the pyjama bottoms, slipping her fingers under them to push the silken pants down over the generous hips, letting them fall away. Six feet of beautiful blonde Borg stood before her, naked to her gaze, utterly magnificent and seeming to glow in the candlelight with a purity and perfection from which the assorted implants still adorning her body could not detract in the slightest.
Janeway caught her breath, and embraced Seven, tracing each metallic device with loving fingers, the starburst under the left collarbone, the mesh down the right leg, the twin implants set in the small of Seven's back, embedded in each dimple where the curve of her buttocks began. Janeway leaned forward and kissed the soft hollow of Seven's throat, then down the chest to the warm valley between the breasts, immersing herself in the warm fragrance, feeling the soft mounds of flesh envelope her face. She ran her hands down the smooth sides, resting them on Seven's hips, then along the legs, and felt the Borg tremble as she rested her fingertips lightly on the strong upper thighs, the muscled flesh quivering beneath her touch.
Seven swallowed hard. "I am ... having great difficulty standing."
"Then, perhaps you should sit down," Janeway advised, looking up with glowing eyes. She smiled and captured Seven's hands in her own, nudging her over to the bed where the young woman sat on the edge, looking up at her with complete and utter devotion.
"Or maybe it would be better for you to lie down," the captain amended gently, putting the flat of her hand against Seven's chest and pushing her down onto the bed. Seven did not resist, reclining on the mattress without protest. Janeway conscientiously dropped a pillow on the floor next to the bed, then leaned over the supine woman, smiling faintly as she braced herself with her arms on either side of Seven's torso.
She kissed the young woman, openly, hotly, letting her tongue and lips explore the sweet texture of its interior as she felt a silent moan from Seven vibrate through her. She absorbed herself in these kisses, intoxicated by their warmth and desire, and it took considerable effort before she was able to leave the wonderful mouth to move down to where the proud swell of Seven's left breast waited invitingly. She kissed the rosy tip gently, flicking it ever so lightly with her tongue before going over to repeat the caress. She was careful not to be too aggressive or abrupt, intending only to pleasure the young woman, wanting to show her how much she adored her, how much she cherished her.
She found Seven's hands, linking them with her own in a grip that was oddly more intimate than her mouth that continued to trace over the velvet soft nipples, circling the rosy areolas.  She tasted the mild flavor of the Borg's skin with a deep sort of happiness, a sense of coming back to a warm, familiar, much loved place.  She felt the tips grow firmer beneath her lips, and she moved joyously back and forth between them, teasing them so very tenderly before smiling at the young woman, aware that Seven was watching her intently.  She reached up and kissed Seven's mouth again, then moved back to the silky skin of Seven's stomach, intrigued by the faint lines she found there, the fading traces of what could only be scars. 
Seven had once boasted an implant here, Janeway remembered from both her personal logs and a vague sense of memory. Hard edged ridges over the abdomen and sides, up the back almost to the shoulder blades. Now it was gone, and there was only smoothly muscled flesh, firm but yielding beneath her. Janeway traced a scar briefly along its path, then continued her journey down to where the thin strands of fine blonde hair tickled her face and cheeks. The defined thatch covered burnished skin that felt so smooth beneath her lips as she pressed them against the swell. She kissed over the top of Seven's thighs, then gently nudged the long legs apart with her body, kneeling between them as the pillow cushioned her knees against the hard deck. She decided that she had planned that move rather perfectly, aware that there were some things one just shouldn't forget.
Nuzzling the tender skin of Seven's inner thighs, Janeway was amazed at how soft they were, how very silky. At this point, Seven carefully disengaged her left hand from the captain's grasp, making sure the mesh covered implant was removed from any contact with her lover. Janeway remembered something the Doctor had said, about Seven sometimes losing control of it, unable to temper the raw power of the Borg mechanism as passion overwhelmed her.
Apparently, Seven was taking no chances, and judging from her increased respiration, the way the pulse fluttered in her femoral artery beneath Janeway's lips, the captain decided that the Borg was probably being wise. Smiling faintly, Janeway kissed along the inside of the long leg to the juncture where she took a moment to deeply inhale Seven's scent, aware that it was only slightly muskier than the young woman's normal fragrance. Fairly light to begin with, it was fresh, oddly perfumed with a faint metallic tinge.
She certainly did not suffer from any lack of moisture. Janeway felt the wetness beneath her mouth as she brushed against the tender outer lips of the Borg's intimate flesh. Seven was positively drenched, unquestionably ready for whatever her lover was planning. Janeway hesitated, and then deliberately licked a bit of that moisture, letting it rest on her tongue as she would a fine wine, evaluating both texture and bouquet.
She heard a sound from Seven then, the first she had made since Janeway had begun, an inadvertent half sob, and the captain tightened her grasp on the young woman with her left hand, trying to communicate all her love, her affection through that connection.  She brought her right down to push the legs farther apart, opening Seven up to her gaze. The Borg was lovely and refined, like the most fragile of flowers in the flickering candlelight, a most delectable shade of pink. With a tenderness born of both adoration and awe, Janeway carefully kissed the firm bundle of nerves at the top, then covered the sensitive nodule, sucking on it gently. She felt an immediate surge ripple through Seven, the wave of pleasure making the young woman shudder.  She heard a quiet, heartfelt moan, then, a whispered "Kathryn" filled with such emotion, such love, that it brought tears to the captain's eyes.
Janeway nuzzled her partner for long moments, feeling the corresponding tremors shake Seven before she dared to move lower, circling the moist opening with the tip of her tongue, savoring the pool of wetness she found there. Seven's taste was very mild, almost without any definite quality, just a faint trace of salt-sweetness, due no doubt to the fact that Seven had few bodily functions to speak of. The implants took care of all Seven's gastronomic byproducts, the Borg nanoprobes looking after any other bacteria that would cause odor or strong taste. Janeway wondered briefly how many of the microscopic nanoprobes she had just swallowed, and then realized that this was hardly the time for a scientific analysis of such things. If the Borg element was harmful to her, she certainly would have known it by now. Still, the knowledge did make her more adventurous, attempting something she wouldn't ordinarily do without more preparation, moving her mouth down even lower to the small, wrinkled orifice that she probed with the tip of her tongue.
She heard a startled "oh" from Seven, and suspected that this was something she hadn't done before, though the reason why not escaped her entirely. Again, there was no strong flavor or odor, but Seven reacted keenly to the captain's every touch, quivering every time Janeway prodded her, opened her gently with her tongue. The Borg bent her knees, drawing her thighs back against her body, opening herself up fully to the unexpected, but obviously welcomed sensation. Janeway adjusted her grip on Seven's hand, moving her arm under Seven's leg, and began a long, slow sweep from the puckered opening all the way up to the sensitive nodule and back again. Stroking the tender flesh with varying degrees of firmness and gentleness, she found a rhythm that Seven's nerve endings responded to with acute pleasure. Janeway paused to push her tongue deep into Seven's wetness, sudden pulsations dragging at it, drawing her deeper inside as spasms abruptly overwhelmed the young woman. The captain felt her hand seized in a bruising grip, and she bathed her face in the soft rush of moisture that resulted, hearing the joyful cry echo in her ears.
When the shudders had eased somewhat, Janeway began again, slow and thorough, bringing in her hand into the careful caresses, gently stroking and penetrating both orifices, exploring the sensations and textures beyond her mouth's reach. She was aware that she was going where no one else ever had and perhaps ever would, profoundly moved as she lifted the young woman to ecstatic heights again and again until Seven simply could not respond any further.
Janeway eased off, and with a cocky sort of satisfaction, she crawled onto the bed, amazed to find Seven's arm across her eyes, tears leaking from beneath tightly closed lids. Gently, Janeway removed the concealing limb, kissing the inside of Seven's wrist through the mesh and along her arm, before she drew it up around her neck and lowered her body onto Seven's, finding the wonderful full mouth and kissing her sweetly, tenderly. Lovingly.
"Darling ... you tasted so wonderful ..." she murmured between kisses. "Oh, love ... you were so perfect ... my love ... it's all right ..." Seven's tears, she noted, were saltier than any of the other fluids the young woman gave off, and the captain caught them avidly on her tongue, knowing she had overwhelmed Seven with pleasure and emotion.
She felt Seven's other arm go around her in a tight embrace, and she pressed closer, her own desire and deep need a burning conflagration within her, one she had trouble controlling now. She lost herself in Seven's kisses, found herself rolled over until the powerful weight was on top of her, pressing down on her with strong intent.
"Kathryn," Seven whispered, sliding over her wantonly. "You were amazing."
Janeway arched against her, feeling desire fill her with a need that no longer had to be denied, lips drawn back over teeth that was more snarl than smile. "Then, reward me."
Seven did not hesitate, her hands moving over her with a skill born of long practice. Janeway noted that one of the things that hadn't changed was that the same spots she remembered driving her wild before still did. Seven knew every one, how to touch them, when to touch them, and how long to touch them, with body and fingertips, with lips and tongue, and once with her teeth raking over tender flesh with precise delicacy. Janeway sighed and moaned and cried out, not at all passive as Seven had been. Demanding her due, she received it in spades, thinking herself the one in command only to find instead that she was the one commanded, tamed, captured and brought under control with astonishing ease, then sent out of control again with even more grace and dexterity.
When it was all over, when the last tremors had died away, when there was nothing but limp muscles and a body slick with perspiration and the couple's shared essence, she lay quiescent in Seven's arms. Drained of all desire and passion, fully and completely sated, she knew she was home in a way she had never felt before, exactly where she belonged that nothing else, not Voyager or the Alpha Quadrant or even Earth, could ever hope to match.