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A Lift to the Wedding
By ralst


Seven had never attended a wedding, but she very much doubted that she was meant to be kissing the bride-to-be in a stalled turbolift, two floors below where the entire senior staff were gathered to celebrate the nuptials. Not that she minded. B'Elanna had always managed to inject a little excitement into her day, usually via a well placed barb or heated argument, and she had certainly succeeded on this occassion. She just wondered if she was meant to be enjoying it or, perhaps, putting up some form of resistance and reminding the woman currently suctioned to her lips, that she was meant to be plighting her troth to the ship's helmsman.

B'Elanna's hands continued to wander as her lips and tongue fought a pleasant duel with Seven's own. The former Borg's grasp on the intricacies of interpersonal relationships was sketchy to say the least, but she felt it incumbent upon her to return the fervour and heat with which she was being gifted. Therefore it was only moments before clothes started to pile up on the floor and skin was lavished with the kind of attention normally reserved for the bedroom or brothel.

Ten minutes after their little excursion into the physically enticing, B'Elanna's comm. badge chirped to life and demanded her attention. She ignored it. The second call carried with it the captain's voice and a sense of urgency wasted on the engineer, who was far too busy peeling the biosuit from Seven's lengthy frame. A short pause, during which the former Borg discovered that physical sensations were anything but irrelevant, was broken by the squawk of Seven's communicator and Tom's harried voice.

B'Elanna's brow furrowed in annoyance but the feel of Seven's tongue circling the delicate skin below her ear, soon blocked out any other thoughts, except the need to reciprocate and taste, once again, the metallic warmth of the starburst implant at Seven's neck.

The tingling sensation of the transporters pulled at Seven's body but before she could curse the end of her newly awakened life, B'Elanna grunted an abrupt command and the sensation ceased, to be replaced by a tingling of an entirely different kind. Seven would have commented on the ingenuity of B'Elanna's actions but she had lost her voice to a strangled sob that left her body trembling in the wake of her release.

Stretched out on the floor of a turbolift, her arms slick with the sweat of desire as they curled around Seven's body, wasn't quite how B'Elanna envisioned her wedding day. If she had, she would have agreed to marry Tom years ago, or at least the second Seven stepped out of her alcove and bestowed on her the first of many condescending looks. She nuzzled closer, her lips trailing delicately across the skin of Seven's back, until she reached the swanlike curve of her porcelain neck.

She smelt the rich aroma of their sex mixed with the unique scent that she's always associated with Seven. It had been that scent which started the day's excitement; the close proximity making it impossible for B'Elanna to ignore what she'd always wanted, even as her conscience insisted she was doing something unforgivable. She ignored that thought, once again, and sunk her teeth into the smooth skin of Seven's cheek.

It might not have been the wedding everyone else was expecting, but lying there on the floor of the turbolift, B'Elanna fulfilled her promise to end the day as a married woman.

The End

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