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Smirking she moved towards the bed she had just thrown the ex Borg onto. It was a testament to her ardour as normally she would never have been able to shove her that hard or move her that far.
Normally she would have had the Borg's hand around her throat threatening her with assimilation and grievous bodily harm if she so much as touched the pristine bio-suit and creased the perfection that filled her gaze.
Normally...but... now... it was a different story...
I sing a song of the Warrior B'Elanna... who slayed the mighty Borg with her tongue and index finger alone.... her imagination ran riot after watching Toms TV reruns.
I hearken to her song of Blood lust and violent loving which in public is substantiated but in private further from the truth than my ability to tell a tale without exaggerating.
She pinned me to the bed and growled that she would love me within an inch of my life. I capitulated and advised her that she could do her worst. That I was ready for her.
Unfortunately I forgot to take into account the chaos theory which surrounds the compact, stunningly beautiful woman and realised to my detriment that she would, and could, usurp me... she informed me that our liberation depended on her ability to command me in a seemingly meaningless sexual encounter.
As they drew their guns on us and pointed them straight at out hearts I turned to B'Elanna and whispered, "Does this qualify as the best usage of the phrase you taught me? Albeit a sarcastic version of it as their weapons will not harm us.. LOL. Laughing out Loud?"
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