Sex. Two or more bodies pushing together. Friction. Lubrication. Repetition. Followed by muscle spasms and a false sense of euphoria. It was hardly a thing of beauty. It wasn't even practical; all that wasted energy and un-hygienic distribution of bodily fluids.
Seven sighed and relaxed back onto the bed.
Borg. Reproduction by assimilation. No touching. No disease. No redundant emotions. A perfection of process that has remained unrivalled by any society before or since.
B'Elanna rolled over in her sleep, her arm instinctively circling Seven's waist.
Love. Chemical imbalance. An evolutionary trick to ensure the protection of offspring and the survival of a genetic strain. An oft used excuse for inexcusable behaviour.
Seven kissed B'Elanna's exposed shoulder and snuggled closer into her warmth.
Humanity. Accepting the illogical. Crying with joy. Loving even though you don't believe in love. Smiling when you see her approach and dying a little when she passes you by. Forgiving the unforgivable.
Seven closed her eyes and slept.
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