By Cirroco DeSade
An automated noise alerted Seven that she would have to stop her current activity. To say she was annoyed would be an understatement, however the only signs of annoyance anybody would've been able to see, if they could've seen her, would be her movements being more abrupt than usual and a little muscle in her jaw jumping as she attempted not to grind her teeth in frustration. As she made sure she was entirely presentable she wondered who had the audacity to invade what little sanctuary she had at this time of night. She was sure this was the Captain's night on the holodeck and had calculated the older woman would be retiring early.
"Seven," B'Elanna called out from over near the alcove area. "Where are you?" she growled. "I need to know what in Gre'thor these figures mean on those schematics you gave to the Captain!"
Seven stepped out from behind a row of carefully stacked storage crates and walked rapidly to the engineer. "The design is quite simple," Seven stated forcefully. "However, I wonder why you are approaching me during a time at which you should be sleeping in preparation for your duty shift."
"Who do you think you are to tell me when I should be sleeping?" B'Elanna answered, now doubly irritated.
"Very well," Seven said, giving all impressions of sighing without actually doing so. "Then, answer this. Why are you approaching me when as far as you know I should be regenerating?"
"The computer said you weren't," B'Elanna answered like Seven was a particularly dull child. "And just what were you doing back there?"
Seven's eyebrow went up, a look of pure Borg irritation if B'Elanna had ever seen one. Yet, the taller woman calmly replied, "It is personal." The Borg grabbed the padd out of B'Elanna's hand and quickly brought up a series of equations and sets of figures. "If you will study these theorems tonight, I will stop by Engineering at the beginning of Alpha shift to answer any further questions." She shoved the padd back at B'Elanna. "If that is all?"
"Are you brushing me off?" B'Elanna asked with evident disbelief.
"Yes," Seven answered shortly. "Please leave, now."
The engineer blinked and actually found herself turning around and leaving, too stunned to stop herself. She was out the door and slowly walking down the hallway before her more irritated Klingon side kicked in. She couldn't believe she had allowed Seven to essentially throw her out of the cargo bay. It was a cargo bay full of equipment for the ship. The woman was a Borg. What kind of personal project could she be up to? She decided she had the right to find out. After all, the last personal project Seven engaged in involved her uploading so much information into her cortical node she became a paranoid loon and endangered the ship.
Turning around she strode purposefully back into the cargo bay and directly to where she had seen Seven emerge from the last time. Coming around the corner of the containers she was prepared to yell at the Borg for whatever she was doing, sure it wouldn't be for the good of the ship. She wasn't, however, prepared to find Seven standing up, half naked, trying to shimmy back into her biosuit and looking angry enough to spit nails.
"What the," was all B'Elanna said.
Seven abandoned her efforts to dress and let the top of the suit flop back down, leaving the entire top half of her torso bare. The young woman put her hands on her hips and sucked in a deep breath preparing to vent her fury on the half-Klingon. That only served to make her already obviously full and excited breasts appear more prominent, quickly overriding any thoughts that B'Elanna had about pretty much anything. She stared at the rosy pink nipples, the full breasts, and even the spectacular hourglass shape of the body in front of her with a newly awakened hunger. She hadn't had any life to her libido since her breakup with Tom months ago, and this shocking moment hit her much harder than any moment with Tom ever had.
"What part of 'personal' and 'leave' do you not understand Lieutenant?" Seven growled at her.
B'Elanna felt like a moron as she realized not only how she'd let her eyes roam but that her mouth had been hanging open and she was on her way to drooling like some sort of hormonal teenage boy. Her eyes snapped up to Seven's and she tried valiantly to collect her wits. Babbling, her first few utterances were no more than monosyllables. Finally she got out, "I just wanted to know what you were doing."
Then she blushed.
"Masturbating," Seven shouted.
"Here?" B'Elanna asked. She really didn't know if she should feel as excited by that thought as she did. She thought that any reasonable person would have fled by now, but her feet seemed glued to the floor and her mouth kept participating in inanities without her conscious permission.
"Where else?" the former Borg asked, a note of frustration definitely creeping into her tone. She stepped up into B'Elanna's personal space angrily. "Now," she growled and actually grabbed the engineer's uniform in her left hand in her all too human frustration, "if you don't have any more ridiculous questions, or you aren't here to assist me with this particular matter, you may leave!" With that, she abruptly released her hold on B'Elanna's uniform.
B'Elanna's inner Klingon was determined to override the human half. She was not going to just stand by and passively be manhandled. Gathering her breath, a growl already emitting from her chest unconsciously, she prepared to lay in to the blonde. "Now you listen," she grated out, but got no further.
She couldn't speak because her mouth was suddenly covered by a set of very full lips, her head being held steady and her body being crushed up against the half naked body she had recently been ogling. Her Klingon half was just as happy with this outcome and for a long while even her human half had no voice. Finally, she realized she should at least try to object to whatever it was that was going on. With the mightiest of efforts she managed to pull back and ask, "just what do you think you are doing, Borg?" Then she immediately started kissing the blonde again.
The blonde pulled back slightly and B'Elanna became involved in trying to suck on the slight dimple in the taller woman's chin and then nibbled along the line of her jaw. "I gave you three options," she answered, then groaned as B'Elanna began sucking on the skin just above her carotid with fervor. Her hands found the clasp to the engineer's uniform and started hastily undoing clasps and zippers and generally ripping clothes away in an attempt to disrobe the Klingon. "You didn't ask me a question, nor did you leave," Seven said then found B'Elanna's lips again while tossing the mustard colored jacket away. Instead of pulling back to pull the sweater and bra off the brunette, she used her Borg strength in a display of great impatience. Each garment was torn asunder and tossed aside negligently.
Once again, B'Elanna's inner human thought she should be objecting, but was quickly knocked senseless by the inner Klingon who howled with delight at the show of strength and abandon. B'Elanna's eyes rolled back in her head as Seven treated her neck to the same treatment that she had bestowed upon the blonde. B'Elanna started pulling on the drooping biosuit, trying to get it to drop down further and between the two of them it was soon off. Hopping up and down yanking her shoes off, B'Elanna yanked on her uniform trousers and they and her panties made an abrupt exit after that.
After that it was the pure sensual delight of six foot of beautiful woman wrapped up around her, sliding against her, hot, slick and in control. Between mind-numbing kisses and glorious tactile explorations, she realized she was being led to some bedding in the corner and she thought to shout, "Computer! Initiate a level five seal on cargo bay doors authorization Torres gamma-green-five-nine!"
Seven stopped what she was doing briefly and looked at B'Elanna. "Why did I never think of that?"
B'Elanna laughed, a shocked smile splitting her face. "I am so very glad you didn't!"
Hours later Crewman Boylan sat on the floor in the hallway outside of cargo bay 2, leaning against the wall and studying a padd. His friend, Crewman White, had tracked him down, wondering why he hadn't shown for their lunch break.
"What're you doing here?" White asked his buddy.
"Waiting for a part I need to complete this project," he answered glumly. "Torres is going to have my head if it isn't done by the time she arrives."
"So?" White replied. "What gives?"
"Well, the cargo bay is locked. By Torres. Level 5," Boylan looked at his buddy. "And Seven is in there."
"You sure they haven't killed each other?" White said with obvious humor.
"Yep," he answered. "The computer says their life-signs are active. But they won't answer any hails."
"Well," White answered. "Let's go to the mess hall. Maybe by the time we get back they'll be done with whatever it is they're doing."
Boylan stood and brushed off his pants, following his friend. "Maybe." he answered. "And anyway, I really don't want to be the one to interrupt them."
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