Just Between The Sheets 
G. L. Dartt

 
0700 Hours

Captain Kathryn Janeway of USS Voyager groaned as she rolled over in bed, stretching her arm out in an unconscious seeking of her partner, only to find cool, empty sheets and the surprising crackle of paper beneath her hand. She frowned and opened her blue-grey eyes, blinking in the bright illumination of morning watch as she lifted her head to look at what her fingers had discovered.
It was a certificate; one that had been composed with old fashioned, very elegant calligraphy on high bond paper ... rare in this 24th century of padds and view screens. She yawned as she brought it closer and read the words scripted on it:
"This entitles you to one full day of the captain's time, whereupon you and I 
shall seclude ourselves away from everyone else and just be together."
Janeway recognized it immediately, of course, since she had written it and given it to her spouse on the young woman's birthday. It merely surprised her that Seven of Nine had waited so long before utilizing it. On the other hand, when had there been an opportunity to honor the promise offered by the certificate? Seven was as conscious as anyone on the starship, if not more so, of how limited Janeway's time really was, of how difficult it was to completely isolate the captain from the demands of her responsibilities. In fact, if it weren't for Janeway issuing a ship-wide memo ordering twenty-four hours of R&R after the crew had just spent a very stressful and busy two weeks installing the slipstream drive, it wouldn't have been used at all.
After seven long years of wandering about the Delta Quadrant, this experimental drive was possibly their last chance of returning home to the Federation. Certainly, it would be if it didn't work. Installation required that it be merged with the current warp technology on the ship, and if anything went wrong, Voyager would be left without any type of faster-than-light propulsion system. Janeway believed that the crew needed a chance to rest and refresh themselves before taking this final risk, and had accorded them all a day to reflect on what lay ahead. Tomorrow morning, at 0800 hours, Voyager would leave this innocuous star system in the Delta Quadrant, and assuming everything worked properly, would return to the Federation in time for dinner.
The captain sat up, the sheets falling away from her nude torso as she folded the slip of paper neatly before placing it on the nightstand on Seven's side of the bed. Raking her fingers through her tousled, auburn hair, she wondered where her spouse had gone as she glanced out through the door to the living area, unable to see much because of the angle. But before she could get out of bed, Seven of Nine entered the room, bearing a tray heavy with food. Tall, with blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, and ice blue eyes, the woman was a feast for the senses. The breakfast on the tray ... waffles with fresh strawberries and cream, juice and coffee, toast and boiled eggs ... was also a feast, triggering the captain's appetite with a vengeance.
"Breakfast in bed?" She smiled warmly as she accepted the heavily laden tray from her spouse, and placing it on the bed. "I didn't realize that was part of the deal ... though I'm certainly not complaining. In fact, I should probably be serving it to you."
Seven of Nine, dressed in a crimson, silk robe that fell about her tall, curvaceous body in a most provocative manner, returned the captain's smile. "It is more than merely 'part of the deal'." She slipped off her robe, and crawled between the sheets next to her partner, arranging herself against the pillows, the blanket draped becomingly over her lap. "It is part of the certificate's requirement. I wish for us to spend the entire day in bed discussing our future."
Janeway quirked an eyebrow as she tapped the shell on her egg, cracking it open. "The whole day?"

"Yes," Seven said, reaching over to retrieve her own egg. "I have informed the bridge that we shall be unavailable today, placed top level privacy seals on our communicators, and instructed Chakotay that you are not to be bothered."
"That must have gone over well," Janeway muttered around a mouthful of egg white and toast.
Seven glanced at her from the corner of ice-blue eyes. "I spoke to him as your spouse, not as a Starfleet lieutenant."
"Ah, that would make a difference." Recently, Seven had accepted a commission into Starfleet, and there was still a certain amount of adjustment going on, not only by Seven, but by Janeway and the rest of the crew as well. Still, the captain was very proud of her spouse, and every time she saw her in the black and blue uniform of the Starfleet Science department, she felt a tiny flicker of pleasure go through her chest. Seven had come such a long way from that bald, pale Borg drone who had insisted that she wanted nothing to do with any irrational group of individuals, and demanded that Janeway return her to the Collective immediately.
"That reminds me," Janeway said, scooping out the last of the yolk. "I should have the replicator pattern buffers altered so that we'll be dressed in the current issue of uniforms when we return to the Alpha Quadrant." She reached up toward the comm padd imbedded in the hull at the head of the bed, only to have her hand intercepted by Seven's grasp on her wrist, the Borg having to roll over almost on top of her to prevent it.
"No." Seven's expression was serious as she peered down into the captain's face. "This is our day."
Startled, Janeway stared into the narrow features so close to her own, and smiled ruefully. "You're right. I'm sorry. I guess this isn't as easy for me as I thought it would be."
"That is why the certificate was such a profound gift. You must give up a certain part of yourself today just for my benefit. It means a great deal to me."
Janeway leaned closer, kissing her partner gently. "So tell me," she asked, her tone lowering to a husky trill. "Is talking the only thing we'll be doing today?"
Seven gave the question all due consideration, eyeing her partner with a lidded gaze. "Not at all."  She moved back to her side of the mattress. "Otherwise, I would not require us to remain in bed."
Quite pleased by that response, Janeway settled back against the pillows and took a sip of her juice. "So, darling, where would you like to begin?"  She pulled over a plate of waffles and started in on them.
Seven toyed with her fork, making patterns in the syrup pooling around her pastry. "I wish to know how you are feeling about our imminent return. We have yet to talk about that. I know you were not particularly happy when Starfleet commandeered your decision-making process over the slipstream drive."
Janeway took a deep breath, allowing the bite of cream, strawberries and waffle to rest sweetly on her tongue as she considered her partner's words. Obviously, this was not going to be a day of light conversation, but rather a concentrated attempt to get to the bottom of any issues that they had yet to address. Had she expected any less from Seven? When the Borg decided she was going to do something, she went after it with a focused determination that Janeway had never experienced before ... except, perhaps, in herself. She should have realized Seven was going to dig out all the old business first, before she went after anything new.
"I admit, I wasn't pleased that I was ordered to install the drive rather than it being completely my decision, but that's how it works in Starfleet, Seven. They have the ultimate authority."
"Then why did it upset you so much?"
Janeway shot her a dark look. Ever since Seven had gone to the ship's counselor to deal with feelings about her parents and her past as a Borg, she had adopted a similar method of digging into the captain's feelings and demanding that they be brought to light, just as would happen in a counseling session. Usually Janeway didn't mind that, understanding that it was healthy for Seven and her to talk openly within their relationship. She much preferred to discuss her problems with her spouse rather than a psychologist, but the incident regarding the slipstream drive was still fresh in the captain's mind, still remained edged with wounded pride and outrage. She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about it yet, though she suspected that if she tried to avoid it, Seven would go after it with even more determination. Nor could Janeway order her to let it go as she would her ship's counselor. Seven would merely become stubborn and insist that it needed to be discussed.
Janeway took a soothing sip of coffee, contemplating the whole situation gloomily. Perhaps Seven was right, she decided after a moment. Perhaps she did need to get it off her chest.
"I didn't like it.  I've been on my own for seven years, and while that's been extremely difficult at times, it's also allowed me an independence of action that isn't possible in the Alpha Quadrant. I'm just going to have to get used to that idea, I guess."
"Why?"
Janeway frowned. "Because that's how the chain of command works, Annika."
"No, I do not mean that. You are very successful when you have only yourself to rely on, as your time in the Delta Quadrant proves. Why would Starfleet not allow you to continue to operate in the same manner?" Seven sounded honestly puzzled, and like many times in the past, Janeway was forced to step back and look at the larger picture. By explaining it to her, she inevitably came to terms with it herself. It took her a few moments to figure out how to answer, trying to offer it in a way that the young woman would completely understand. 
"Darling, you're the head of the astrometrics department, and I expect you to make decisions regarding it without requiring my input."
"Yes."
"Yet sometimes, I will come in and order you to alter your decision about a particular course of action. Why do you suppose that is?"
"Because you are Human and inefficient?".
Janeway paused, sneaking a look at her. Seven's expression was so innocent that the captain knew she was being needled, and she elbowed the Borg lightly in the ribs before continuing. "No, it's because I'm required to look at what's best for the entire ship, not just the astrometrics department." 
"I understand." 
"The same thing holds true with captains and Starfleet Command." Janeway used her last bite of waffle to soak up the remaining berry juice and whipped cream on the plate. "They made the decision about the slipstream drive because they believed it to be in the best interests of the Federation for us to come home, regardless of the risk involved. I just have to accept that."
"But it still annoyed you."
"Yes, for the same reason that you become annoyed when I require that you alter your initial decisions. It made me feel as if I couldn't be trusted to do what was best for my ship." She popped the waffle into her mouth and chewed it slowly as Seven waited patiently. "But I have to trust that they know what they're doing, even if I don't completely understand the reasoning behind it. Granted, it's not always easy to do, but sometimes, as a captain, I have to obey my orders, just as you have to obey yours."
"But what if you are wrong to change my decision?" Seven persisted. "Or in this case, they were wrong to order you to install the drive?"
Janeway sipped her coffee slowly. "Darling, I'm not telling you that you'll never disobey an order, but if you do, you'd better have a really solid, substantial reason behind taking that action. As a very wise man once told me, if you're going to disobey an order, make it a big one, and you'd better have a spotless record up until that point. Always obey the little things to the letter, because one day, you'll undoubtedly have to defy a major order, and the only justification you might have in your defense when it's all over is your past record."
Seven considered that as Janeway continued to drink her coffee. "You are telling me that you must choose your battles wisely."

"Exactly." Janeway sighed. "I may be annoyed that this decision about the slipstream drive was taken out of my hands, but it's not an order worth defying." She suddenly realized that her lingering aggravation over it had finally dissipated, which she suspected was Seven's motivation behind asking the question in the first place. "The truth is, I probably would have installed the drive anyway. Starfleet making it an order really didn't make any difference in the eventual outcome." She reached over and patted her partner on the leg. 
"After all, I want to go home as much as anyone." 
 
0800 Hours

 
Seven of Nine finished cleaning up the tray and stored it back in the compartment behind the kitchenette counter. Not far away, the couple's Irish Setter, Jake, watched her with bright eyes and a feathered tail that swept slowly back and forth.
"There are no extraneous remains of our breakfast," she told him, knowing exactly what he was hoping for. "Kathryn was very hungry. In any event, you have been fed, and watered, and do not require additional nutrition."
She realized that he probably did not understand a word that she said, but hopefully he would appreciate the tone of her voice and realize he was not going to receive any extra treats. From the way his ears drooped and his tail slowed to a stop, she decided that he had comprehended the intent of her message.
Returning to the bedroom, she discovered her partner had taken the opportunity to go back to sleep. The captain stirred only when the Borg crawled back into the bed with her, pressing against her compact body.
"Mmm, I must have dozed off," Janeway muttered in a deep, husky tone as she snugged her right arm around the Borg's torso. She used her left hand to gently stroke Seven's long, blonde hair, tangling her fingers in it to feel the silky strands wrap around her hand. Seven purred under the soothing caress, putting her head on the captain's shoulder, and resting her hand on Janeway's stomach that was rounded softly from her meal, spreading her fingers over the smooth skin.
"You inevitably become drowsy after a large meal." Seven was amusemed. "Also, you have worked long hours the past few days. It is natural for you to want to sleep."
The captain yawned, then shivered, as if shaking herself awake. "I'm not going to spend this special day sleeping." Shifting so that she was propped up against the pillows and the headboard, she stretched and rubbed her eyes. "Talk to me, darling."
"What is going to happen when we return to the Alpha Quadrant?" Seven sat up as well, turning around until she was facing the captain, a corner of the sheet draped modestly about her pelvis, though the upper part of her body and her long legs were left bare. "Immediately, I mean. What shall we do and where will we live?"
Janeway chuckled lightly. "Hmm, well, this conversation will certainly keep me awake." She reached over and lightly rested her hand on Seven's upper thigh, apparently just to be in physical contact with her since it did not go any further than that.
"A great many crewmembers have already received new orders." Seven did not add that she was one of them. That would come later, after she had determined Janeway's attitude on all the changes in store for them. Then she would best know how to approach the captain about the decision she had made regarding her own future.
"I know." Janeway did not sound especially pleased, and must have realized how ungracious that sounded because her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I guess that's the other thing to be expected. Starfleet isn't wasting any time distributing what is, to them, a very useful resource."
"You do not like it."
"It's never pleasant to say good-bye to family."  Janeway's eyes became distant. "Of course, Starfleet doesn't look at us that way. We're experienced personnel who have to be assigned where we're most needed. I guess that in the aftermath of the Dominion War, the other captains were quick to demand a chance at seasoned officers, and Starfleet Command seems ready to oblige them."
"What will happen to Voyager? Will you receive a new crew?"
Janeway paused, glancing at her partner. "No. At least, not right away. According to my orders, Voyager is to be dry-docked and will undergo a complete overhaul to bring her up to current operating specifications. It will take a year, maybe a year and a half, and I'll either have to wait for the completion of the refit in a ground-side position, or request command of another vessel."
Seven considered that. "What will you do?"
<>Janeway was silent for a moment, and Seven studied her partner's face. The captain looked vaguely perplexed. "To be honest, I hadn't really given it much thought.  I suppose I was waiting to see if this drive really takes us home or not." 
"The slipstream drive will take us home," Seven said with assurance. 
The captain smiled faintly. "Then, I guess that's what today is about; to discuss what's about to happen to us and make some decisions." She tilted her head. "Is that why you used your certificate?"
Seven inhaled. "Knowing your plans will influence whatever decisions I must make."
<>Janeway blinked, as if realizing for the first time that Seven had not revealed everything.  "Have you received orders, as well, Annika?" Her tone was concerned, and Seven wondered why. 
"I am a Starfleet officer now.  I have been ordered to report to Starfleet Command upon my return to be 'briefed'. It appears that my status is going to be undetermined, at least in the beginning." 
Janeway took a deep breath and looked away. "Damn."
"I am confused, Kathryn," Seven prodded lightly. "You are not pleased?"
She was, of course, aware that Phoebe Janeway, Kathryn's sister, did not trust these orders one little bit ... the Borg having discussed it with the artist in an exchange of letters only a few days before. Seven had dictated her messages and read Phoebe's responses whenever she had a spare moment while creating navigational charts for the ship's return to the Alpha Quadrant. However, it surprised her that the captain also seemed leery upon hearing this information.
"What exactly did your orders say?" Janeway's tone was very even, and suddenly, Seven realized she was in bed with her captain rather than her spouse. It was an interesting sensation, but fairly disconcerting.
"Annika Hansen, your application to Starfleet has been approved and you have been accorded the rank of lieutenant, junior grade," Seven recited. "Upon return to the Federation, you are to report directly to Starfleet Command, San Francisco, North American Sector, Earth, for immediate briefing and reassignment." She paused. "They did not specify what the 'reassignment' would consist of."
The captain's breathing was very deliberate. "I see."
Seven reached out and touched her fingertips to Janeway's chin. "What is the problem, Kathryn?"
Janeway blinked, and abruptly, her captain persona disappeared. "I didn't take this into account, darling.  As a freshly commissioned officer, you simply don't have any clout in where you're assigned. Certainly, I can request your presence on any vessel I command, but without my having a specific berth for you, Starfleet can transfer you anywhere."
"I will not leave you."  Seven's voice was very firm.

Janeway smiled. "I know, darling. I won't let you. Or rather, where you go, that's where I'll be. Perhaps that's why Starfleet has offered me a position ground-side while Voyager is dry-docked; they intend to attach you to Starfleet Command."
<>Seven somehow doubted Starfleet's motivations were that benign. "It is ... disturbing, Kathryn.  I am afraid that this 'briefing' will be more in the form of a series of interrogations. I am Borg, after all." 
"I'm sure it's just a formality, Annika."  Janeway regarded her soberly, apparently picking up on the young woman's unease. "They just want to get to know you better so they can best arrange your first assignment. I think you're worrying about nothing." 
"I do not think so, Kathryn." Seven took a deep breath. "I am considering resigning my commission. As a civilian, Starfleet would not be able to demand I do things I do not wish to do."
Astonished, Janeway stared at her. "I can't believe you're saying this." Her tone was one of bewilderment and dismay. "You worked so hard to pass your courses."
"I am aware of that, Kathryn." Seven sought for the words that would explain it. "I am afraid."
<>Janeway's face cleared, as if this was a concept she was able to handle.  "Of course you are. That's perfectly natural, Annika. I'm scared, too." 
Surprised, Seven quirked her eyebrow. "You are?" 
"It's a big change, darling." Janeway reached over to grasp Seven's hand, entwining her fingers with the Borg's. "We're essentially going to be out of time for awhile, as if this were a temporal incursion. Yes, Starfleet has sent all the various files regarding the events of the past seven years, but we weren't there, we didn't really live them. It won't be the Federation I remember, or even the Starfleet I remember. That's very frightening, but it's not a fear that we can allow to conquer us."
Seven shook her head. "That is not why I am concerned. The Federation is only now recovering from a war, which means certain concerns and fears will be predominant. Starfleet Command will be leery of any enemy of the Federation, particularly a member of the Borg."
"You're no longer Borg.  You're a Starfleet officer, and that means something, not the least of which is that they'll always look out for you."
"But, Kathryn..." Seven began.
"Annika," Janeway interrupted somberly, "I think you're letting unsubstantiated fears get the best of you." She paused, frowning. "I'm not even sure where this is coming from."
"In her recent letters, Phoebe--"
"Phoebe?!" Janeway looked annoyed. "Phoebe isn't even in Starfleet, Seven. Not to mention the fact that she's always been distrustful of us." At Seven's expression, the captain reached out her hand in a conciliatory gesture, gentling her tone. "Think about it, darling, unlike the life I chose, she didn't follow in Dad's footsteps, but she did grow up constantly aware of how much Starfleet impacted her life. It took our father away from us, and eventually took me away, as well. It's natural that she would resent it. But you have to remember that she's not on the inside as we are. She really doesn't understand how it works. You can't grant her opinion that much weight regarding it."
"But," Seven pointed out, speaking louder so that her partner wouldn't interrupt her this time, "Phoebe has lived in the Federation for the last seven years and perhaps would know better what Starfleet has become. As you have said, we cannot know what it was like or how the Federation may have developed as a result of the Dominion war. Phoebe mentioned several incidents where Starfleet did not always act in a manner befitting their own ideals. Indeed, they placed the Earth under martial law at one point."
Janeway, about to respond, took a deep breath instead. Seven realized that her partner was aggravated, but was attempting to moderate her temper.
"Annika, I want you to think about this further. Remember everything you learned in your classes? Perhaps there were extenuating circumstances which caused Starfleet to act in a manner that seemed at odds with its ideals."
Seven raised her chin. "Perhaps, I will be an 'extenuating circumstance'."
Janeway shook her head, her expression grave. "Phoebe doesn't have all the facts. Neither do you." She paused, obviously struggling with herself about something. "Darling, it's not general knowledge, but certain events that happened leading up to the war were a result of Starfleet being infiltrated by the Founders. They were Changelings, shapeshifters who replaced key members of Starfleet Command and the Federation Council. They also infiltrated the Klingon High Command and certain elements of the Romulan Tal Shiar and the Cardassian Obsidian Order. That's how the Dominion apparently operates. They create political confusion and strife, weaken a civilization from within and then, when a society is at its most vulnerable, they send in the Jem'Hadar to make a military strike." She squeezed Seven's fingers. "What I've just told you is classified for the most part, Annika. The general public does know about the Founders, but they didn't know how much havoc the shapeshifters wreaked in the upper levels of government before they were uncovered."
Seven looked skeptical. "Why keep it a secret?"
<>Janeway tilted her head slightly, her gaze focused on her partner. "Darling, even you know that the truth can cause more harm sometimes, than the occasional omission of that truth. Had the Federation Council released that information, suspicion and paranoia would have swept through the public, and that would have been exactly what the Dominion was trying to accomplish."  Seven started to answer, stopped, then frowned. Troubled, she stared at Janeway and the captain reached out to cup the Borg's cheek in her palm. "Annika, this is not the time you should be making such a huge decision, particularly since you haven't truly given your new commission a real chance." 
Seven looked at her unhappily. "B'Elanna says that I should not wait. That if I do not resign before we return to the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet will use 'red tape' to prevent it." 
The captain exhaled audibly, clearly exasperated. "So B'Elanna has been at you over this, as well. No wonder you've become confused." She softened her expression, her hand warm against Seven's face. "Darling, please, give yourself some more time to think about this. If, in a few months or a year, you still want to resign, then I'll push the request through myself. Not that I believe there would be anyone preventing you from doing what you want, of course. Starfleet doesn't want unhappy officers in its ranks. It's far more trouble than it's worth."
Seven nodded slowly, allowing the point. "Yes, B'Elanna did mention that Starfleet would work with an officer to find a place where one is best suited. Discontented officers are not particularly productive."
Janeway's inflection became even more persuasive, perhaps sensing that Seven was wavering. "I'm not saying that it's the officer that always dictates where and how one is deployed ... it does come down to experience, as well as the fact that, sometimes, Starfleet actually has a better idea where the individual would best be suited than does the officer in question." She raised an eyebrow. "Take myself, for example. I started out as a science officer, but my superiors determined that I would be better off in command and channeled me that way, even when I had never considered it for myself. It was Owen Paris, as a matter of fact, who first suggested it to me, and my father agreed, telling me that the best officers should assume the larger part of the responsibility whenever they're able."
Seven considered that gravely. "They were correct. You are an exceptional captain."
Janeway was pleased by the assessment. "Thank you, darling." She lifted Seven's hand to her lips, kissing the palm lightly. "You just have to remember that Starfleet always takes care of its own ... as do I. I swear to you, I will never let anything bad happen to you. Trust me when I tell you that your fears are unfounded."
Reassured, Seven nodded. "Very well, Kathryn, I will 'give it a few months'."
"Thank you, darling." Janeway reached out to her with a smile.
As the captain pulled Seven close, drawing her into a loving embrace, the Borg hoped that neither of them would have cause to regret this decision.
 
0900 Hours

 
B'Elanna Torres opened her eyes, not needing to glance at the chronometer to know she had slept in. Luxuriously, she snuggled deeper into the warmth of sheets and pillows, seeking out another position to doze. Her lover of some months was not in the bed with her, and she wondered briefly where she was, but not being ambitious enough to go look for her yet. In any event, the sounds from the outer room indicated that Ro Laren was occupying herself quite handily with a workout of some kind, involving some kind of ceramics clanging together, and it was probably not anything that B'Elanna needed to interrupt.
Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, and the engineer tried to decide if she really wanted to get out of bed, regardless of how hungry she was. After ten days of intense work on Voyager's engines, she had needed time off, and when the captain had sent out the memo instructing the crew to take this day for R&R before attempting the trip home, it was like a precious, unexpected break in the clouds, a ray of sunshine to renew the spirit and gird the loins for what lay ahead.
Speaking of 'loins', she wondered, would Ro see fit to return to the bedroom anytime soon? Now that she was awake, B'Elanna's hunger wasn't just for food, though certainly, a big breakfast would hardly be refused at this point.
Almost as if the other woman had been reading her mind, Ro Laren chose that moment to enter the bedroom, and to the Klingon's amazement, the Bajoran was bearing a large tray, filled with dishes. Tall, with dark hair and eyes, an elegant ridge rippling the bridge of her nose, the woman was a vision of beauty at the best of times for B'Elanna. Carrying a tray filled with a Betazed omelet, small bowls of fresh fruit, toast, and juice, she was like a gift from the gods, and the Klingon was sure she had died sometime during the night and entered Sto-Vo-Kor ... because this had to be sheer heaven.
B'Elanna quickly scooted up until she was reclining against the head of the bed as Ro carefully placed the tray on her lap. "Kahless, this is wonderful!" 
The stoic Bajoran offered a faint smile. "I thought you could use a little something after all the work you've been putting in. It's been awhile since I've had the opportunity to do it for you."
"Thank you." B'Elanna was completely overwhelmed as she eagerly picked up her fork and speared a respectable chunk of the omelet. "This must have completely cleaned you out of rations."
Ro took a seat on the bed next to her, tucking one leg up under the other, and shrugged lightly. "This is pretty much our last chance to use them. After tomorrow, we're either home, or the extra rations will be the absolute least of our worries."
"I guess that's true." B'Elanna moaned in ecstasy as she tasted her first bite of egg, peppers, meat and spices. "This is incredible." She flicked a glance over at the Bajoran who was garbed rather becomingly in a sleeveless t-shirt and thigh length shorts, her feet bare. "You're not eating?"
"I've already had breakfast." Ro smiled briefly. "A couple of hours ago."
B'Elanna blushed faintly. "Thanks for letting me sleep in," she mumbled around another mouthful of toast and omelet. She was certainly getting the loving treatment this morning, she thought. Not that she was complaining at all.
"You were tired." Ro stretched, raising her arms over her head. "What would you like to do today? After breakfast, I mean."
B'Elanna enjoyed the play of muscles beneath her lover's golden skin, the way the sinews rippled lithely, as if Ro were a cat or some other exotic, feline-like creature.
"Uh, I don't suppose you'd care to spend the time in bed?" B'Elanna regarded her hopefully.
Ro blinked and smiled. "It has been a while since we've done that. It might be the perfect way to celebrate our last day in the Delta Quadrant."
"I couldn't think of any better."
Ro stood up and pulled off her t-shirt, lifting it over her head to reveal small, well-shaped breasts and a flat, muscled stomach. B'Elanna nearly choked on a piece of weberni pepper, and had to chew quickly as she stared openly at her partner undressing, completely enthralled with the form and symmetry of her lover.
There was definitely something to be said for living together, she noted to herself as she shoved the last bite of her omelet into her mouth, barely tasting it. She received similar displays all the time, even when the Bajoran wasn't attempting to put a little enthusiasm in her disrobing. She tilted her head as Ro wiggled out of her shorts, peeling the tight material over her narrow hips and down the long, lithe legs.
Ro smiled as she dropped lightly onto the mattress next to her.
"Don't choke," she warned, reaching over to take a piece of melon from the tray, biting into it with strong, white teeth.
"Too late." B'Elanna happily drank in the long length of the slender Bajoran stretched out beside her. "You look delicious."
"Maybe I'm dessert." Ro took the remaining piece of her melon and offered it to the Klingon who nipped it carefully from her, dawdling over the Bajoran's hand to provide kisses to each finger.
Ro's dark eyes kindled abruptly with a luminous fire that burned intensely hot, and B'Elanna, captivated by the gaze, suddenly found it a little difficult to breathe. Without breaking the molten glance, the engineer quickly retrieved a strawberry from the bowl and lifted it to Ro's mouth, feeling a tremor of sheer pleasure shiver through her as the Bajoran mouthed it from her, her pink tongue slipping out to lightly lick the Klingon's fingertips.
"This is definitely how breakfast should be served every morning," B'Elanna murmured as Ro moved closer to her, her body pressing against the engineer's side lightly as she found another slice of melon and fed it to the Klingon slowly.
"You'd get tired of it. Too much of anything is not good."
B'Elanna laughed. "You're probably right, but for today, this is just perfect." She dipped a Tirellian brieweri in her juice and dragged the pink stick of fruit down the slope of Ro's breast, over the ridge radiating up from the Bajoran's nipple, leaving a sticky trail that B'Elanna, of course, felt obligated to clean up. She bent over and dragged her tongue lingeringly over the sensitive ripples as Ro made a deep sound of pleasure and anticipation in the back of her throat.
"We should probably move anything we don't need onto the deck," the Bajoran suggested huskily.
"Good idea." Together they moved the tray to the floor. The bowls of various fruit, however, were placed on the night stands within easy reach, as the couple continued to feed each other from them in the most sensuous way possible, involving languid caresses that grew increasingly intimate and intense. Eventually, the Klingon acquired a handful of Terran blueberries and carefully inserted them between the ripples of Ro's f'lar, causing the Bajoran to yelp in surprise. Concerned, B'Elanna stopped what she was doing and peered anxiously up at her lover from her position between the woman's legs.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No. You just surprised me." She paused, smiling. "They're cold."
B'Elanna returned the smile, displaying bright, sharp-edged teeth. "They won't be for long."
"Won't be cold or won't be there?" Ro offered a lazy smile as she lounged on the sheets, her skin almost glowing against the midnight blue of the linen.
"Both." B'Elanna lowered her mouth to the juncture of her lover's legs. "Either. Take your pick."
Using her tongue, she fished each of the sweet little berries from between the tender ridges that were the center of a Bajoran's pleasure, enjoying the combined flavor of fruit and copious moisture seeping from the clefts on either side of the f'lar. Ro apparently enjoyed it as well, her head falling back as she groaned loudly, her hands tangling in her lover's dark hair. For variety, the Klingon reached over and retrieved another Tirellian brieweri which she slipped into the Bajoran's opening, moving it in and out slowly as Ro spread her legs wider, then pushed it deep inside. Hungrily, B'Elanna put her mouth to the entrance and sucked out the firm little fruit, managing to acquire the whole piece in one gulp, not to mention making Ro arch and shiver from the sensation.
"Kahless, I love eating breakfast this way."
"I love serving it this way." Ro laughed, between her deep inhalations for breath.
Several pieces of fruit later, Ro was no longer laughing, but B'Elanna was assured that the Bajoran was quite happy, her delighted moans and sighs clear evidence of that. As B'Elanna settled in for a final, concentrated assault on the woman's senses, the engineer knew that this last day in the Delta Quadrant would be a favored memory for the rest of her life, regardless of what happened in her future.
There was absolutely nothing so loving or delightful as being served breakfast in bed.
Once the Bajoran had finally regained consciousness, Ro wrapped her arms around the Klingon, rolling them both over so that she was on top. "S'kwan," she murmured, nuzzling her chin. "Do you know how much I love you?" 
"A hell of a lot.  No one else has ever served me breakfast in bed, but you." 
"Really?" Ro drew back for a moment to study the Klingon's eyes, her expression soft and vulnerable. "Your past lovers were fools, Lanna. You deserve absolutely the best."
B'Elanna grinned, tightening her embrace. "I have the best."
Ro's narrow face creased in a warm smile and she dipped her head, kissing the Klingon sweetly. "What would you like?" She flicked the other woman's lips lightly with her tongue, the provocative caress elevating the engineer to an even higher pitch of anticipation and desire. 
B'Elanna considered it, wiggling slightly against the sheets. "Ah, I wouldn't mind trying out our new ... uh, toy.  After a feast like that, I'm feeling a little ... you know." 
Ro raised an eyebrow. "Amorous?" she suggested. "Wanton? Carnal? Hedonistic?"
"Horny."
Ro reached over and opened the drawer in the night stand, pulling out a pale, greyish phallus, along with a remote. The sexual device, manufactured by the Ferengi for 'those long probes into deep space', was one of the more versatile and exorbitant accessories in the entertainment menu of the replicator pattern buffer. It had initially come with a stylish wooden box that B'Elanna had inadvertently broken the first night they used it ... though how the Klingon had managed to put her foot through it, neither woman was entirely sure. Extravagantly named the Wonder Wand 9000™, it had cost 375 replicator rations, and the couple had actually given up a recent shore leave to acquire the necessary funds to replicate it. Like most new acquisitions, both women were enamored with it, not yet having become bored with its limitations when it came to intimacy verses stimulation, though B'Elanna had noticed that Ro was not as eager to try out new settings as she had been initially.
The Bajoran examined the remote and keyed in the proper user code, the device adjusting itself accordingly to the Bajoran setting which allowed the base to fit over Ro's f'lar ridges and secured itself to her with tendrils that wrapped around her hips and down between her legs. Sensing nodes within the device transmitted sensation directly to the Bajoran's f'lar and allowed her to feel as if the accessory was an extension of her own body, rather than an inanimate construct.
"What's your preference?" Ro eyed the Klingon curiously.
B'Elanna contemplated the possibilities. In the short time they had possessed it, they had already tried the Human setting ... mundane, but familiar to both; the Bajoran parameter; which Ro appreciated; the Ferengi version; always good for a giggle; a Romulan setting; which surprisingly, both enjoyed tremendously; and once, a Bolian setting that was so disturbing in its structure, neither of them dared to actually utilize it for the purposes of pleasure. But it certainly had been educational.
"I am extremely horny," B'Elanna insisted.
"Klingon it is." Ro keyed in the new parameters.
Immediately, the device reformed itself, changing color to match the Bajoran's skin tone, while the shape thickened and lengthened considerably, protruding veins running along the phallus on all four sides, so predominant that they actually increased the width just by themselves. When Ro had first saw this version, she had flatly refused to allow the setting to be utilized on her, and was considerably leery of using it on the engineer, requiring extensive reassurances by B'Elanna's to convince the Bajoran it would be safe. The engineer knew size didn't necessarily matter in the larger scheme of things, but it sure made a difference when the powerful Klingon hormones started flooding her system in huge quantities. She suspected that Ro was especially grateful for the device when that happened ... using the accessory saved the Bajoran a great deal of energy and effort that she wasn't necessarily able to spare on a regular basis. 
B'Elanna adored the fact that Ro was incredibly skillful while making love to her with it. The Bajoran always seemed to know when to be forceful with it and when to let B'Elanna dictate the pace, when to ravish her partner, and when to let B'Elanna be in control. Of course, the Klingon knew it was undoubtedly a result of the Bajoran's keen sense of perception, the older woman able to pick up subtle hints from the engineer's body language and facial expressions, like any good security officer. Still, it was something that made a huge difference to B'Elanna, making her feel loved and the center of Ro's universe at a most vulnerable time, both physically and emotionally.
This morning was no different. The Klingon burned from her desire, and Ro wasted little time in positioning herself over the other woman, understanding what the engineer needed of her in this moment of need and desire. Though B'Elanna's body temperature was higher than most species, it was still not as high as a full Klingon, so when the phallus entered her in one, powerful, achingly wonderful thrust, it actually filled her with its heat, searing along the sensitive, wet channel with delicious strength. She howled happily, wrapping her arms and legs around her lover as Ro began a rapid, regular rhythm, the engineer's fingertips raking the Bajoran's spine, though she was careful not to use her nails.
There was little that was tender or particularly romantic about this particular encounter, but it was hot and passionate and fit B'Elanna's mood perfectly. She arched beneath the Bajoran, crying out gutturally in her climax as pleasure raked her from the tips of her toes to impact explosively on the inside of her skull, radiating out in powerful waves from her center. Ro paused briefly to catch her breath, and began again, slower, less restrained, and B'Elanna knew that the Bajoran was allowing her own pleasure to rise, making love to her with concentrated intent. The slow, lengthy thrusts provided a different kind of excitement to the Klingon, the probe skidding along sensitive nerves within her, and this time, climax took them simultaneously, their cries mingling as did their perspiration and desire, the Bajoran collapsing on the Klingon who cradled her gratefully.
"Exactly what I wanted, bangwI'." B'Elanna nipped gently at the other woman's shoulder. "Thank you."
"Anytime." Ro blew away a strand of hair that was sticking to her cheek. She was breathing deeply. "Prophets, this is better than my workout."
"More fun, too." B'Elanna contracted her internal muscles, clamping down on the erection inside her, making Ro twitch. "Do you want me to clean it up and we'll go again, this time for you?"
Ro laughed. "I think I would enjoy a bit of a break." She paused, looking down into the eyes of her Klingon lover. "But after I regain my strength...."
B'Elanna raised her eyebrow. "There is always the Trill setting that we have yet to try. I wonder if the spots really do go all the way down?"
Ro returned her smirk, then slowly, and with obvious pleasure, withdrew from the Klingon. She rolled over and used the remote to detach the device, which B'Elanna, uncoiling from the bed, promptly took from her.
"I'll clean it. You just stay there and rest."  Shooting a look over her shoulder, she leered gently at the Bajoran stretched out on the bed. 
"We do have the whole day ahead of us, after all."