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She's panting and you try to tear your eyes away from her heaving chest, but you fail, miserably. In a low, gravelly tone she pants out an admonishing 'Seven' and you look up, a blush spreading at being caught. Her eyes are sparkling, a stark contrast to her tone, and she definitely saw that, but she doesn't seem to mind, and if that stokes the throbbing between your legs you try to ignore it.

You've been looking forward to this game all day, to your Captain, hair mussed and rosy cheeks, muscles taut from exertion and covered in sweat. You almost don't mind that you still haven't beat her. Almost. You steel yourself, try to channel the wild beating of frustration into your game, and your eyes harden as you go 'Next round?' and she smirks and instructs the Computer to continue the game.

She's entirely focused, as usual, and doesn't miss a beat in sending the disc flying toward you. It almost hits you unexpectedly, but you manage to twist your body just right, pushing your waist to the side with a thrust of your hips and you hit the disc back, hurtling through the room towards her. You notice a flicker in her eyes then, which are on your hips, and you barely catch the tongue darting out to lick moist lips, followed by teeth sinking into her lower lip, but it's there and Oh. She's not unaffected by you. The thought makes you giddy and confident at once, and you hatch a plan within seconds.

Your goal in mind spurs your focus, the potential reward keeping you from getting distracted. In a series of escalating close calls you subtly herd her towards the walls of the court, the rapid succession keeping her focused on the game until you can make your move. In the last effort to reach the disc she's hurtled towards you, you hit it, sending it flying across the room, stumble and come crashing against her, pinning her against the wall.

The air leaving her lungs turns into a quiet moan and now it's your turn to smirk, as you press yourself into her, your legs effectively straddling her hips. You're pretty sure she's pushing herself against you on purpose. She slowly opens her eyes and you don't believe you've seen anything more erotic than Captain Janeway's eyes, dilating with lust. She holds your stare, unashamed to show you how she feels and you're lost in the look she's giving you.

The open need you see there and her hand that lands on your hip to steady herself make your lips part with a small moan of yourself. She smiles then, chin tipped up and joy in her eyes and you feel yourself moving forward, slowly, and realize you're leaning in to touch those lips with yours.

Her smile turns wicked and for a second you're blinded by her, that is until you feel the harsh impact of a disc in your back that knocks the air out of you. It makes you stumble forward and she uses your momentum to slip out from under you, crooked smile firmly in place. 'Game Janeway' is announced by the computer, and as you mourn the loss of her, you throw her a dark glare. She just laughs, and you can't even be upset.

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You're not really sure what drove you to issue this particular challenge to the Captain, it's not as if you two don't have enough things to be competitive over already.

When you enter Sandrine's, she's already there. You can't see her yet, but you hear her speaking in her whiskey-tinged voice, hear the laughter like honey dripping out. It doesn't take long for you to spot her, she's picked a Pool table in the back of the room, a little secluded, and she's already playing. She must know that her choice of attire - a black silk blouse, opened just a tad too far to be entirely proper - reveals more than just a hint of décolleté. She's leaning over the table, engrossed in the placement of her cue, and the deep insight she gives you makes you stop your approach in favor of observing her.

You can see her partner now, she's playing with the Commander, and that makes you straighten your shoulders just a little bit more as you decide to continue your advance, eyes still intensely focused on her. She looks up then, directly at you, and you can see confidence in her eyes, but also something else, something welcoming, and you smile at her. She smirks as she takes her shot, still entirely focused on you. You're not surprised when she sinks the ball flawlessly.

When you step up to the table she straightens, gives Chakotay a crooked grin and says 'This will have to do, my date has arrived' and at her choice of words something in your lower abdomen flutters and if your smile gets wider at the annoyance that flits over Chakotays face, she at least pretends not to notice.

You've never played before and admit as much, and then you deploy the question you've been meaning to ask her. 'Will you teach me, please?' At this, something in her softens and she looks at you with those puppy eyes of hers. You're not sure how you know that's what they are, but she shines so brightly that you decide it is absolutely the right term.

She takes her time to explain the basic rules of the game to you, and you find yourself a little too enthralled with the deft play of her fingers along the cue stick, how they balance three billiard balls in one hand, the way they point along the pockets in the table and give added weight to her words. You pull yourself out of your reverie when you realize she's stopped talking, has set up the entire game and is looking at you expectantly.

You take your first shot and the Captain lets out a barking laugh at the ball that flies across the table, onto someone's plate, and you realize failure can be acceptable, if it results in her joy. She weasels her way through the crowd to recover the cue ball and comes back victorious, still a little breathless from laughing all the way. She decides you'll need a little bit more guidance, and when she moves behind you and puts her hands on your hips to angle you just right, you wholeheartedly agree.

Your next shot sees the ball only bouncing off the table, a marked improvement. Her hand brushes across your lower back as she goes to retrieve it again and you're pleased with your choice of attire today, a pair of slacks with a sweater that hangs loose but rides up just enough to expose your skin to her heated fingers. For a moment your mind flashes to her hands, under your sweater, and when your eyes refocus the Captain is gone and you're a little disoriented.

She steps up close behind you then, her pelvis pressed against you and you can't stop the sharp intake of breath at the sensation. She lets her hands glide down your arms, guiding you into holding the cue the right way. When her full length molds itself against your back as she slowly bends you into shooting position you can't help but push your ass back into her, too delicious is the feeling of her, all over you. One of her hands falls to your hip then, steadying you and a throaty chuckle in your ear sends shivers of goosebumps down your neck.

Her other hand has wrapped around yours, demonstrating the strength and speed for your break. When she guides you into taking the shot her fingers brush forward from your hips, towards the softness of your stomach and they play across the naked skin she finds there. Your hips jerk back at that movement and this time she's prepared, holds steady as you grind into her and she lets out a soft moan only for you to hear. The sound travels like liquid heat right through you and you're surprised that your break is passable this time, with one solid slowly rolling into the pocket furthest away.

The Captain pulls away from you, husks a raspy 'good job' and you blush, furiously. After more deep breaths than you're comfortable with you manage to look at her again, see her leaning against the table casually, as if nothing untoward was going on. Only the glint in her eyes gives her away, tells you that there's a game underfoot that you're only just catching up to. You pull together a shaky smile and she quirks up one eyebrow, issuing a challenge of her own. You are Borg. You will prevail.

You let your eyes roam the table in front of you, identifying which solid ball is in the most favorable position and when you think you've made one out you walk to reposition yourself. After a glance at the Captain - she nods approvingly at your selection and you feel that as if it's a caress - you bring yourself in position, deliberately placing yourself at an awkward angle to see if she'll take the hint. She does.

When she slides up behind you, you're prepared, as much as you can be. You let your hips wiggle back into the heat of her crotch, feel her subtly pushing into you and this time you're listening for the soft sigh she lets out. You let yourself enjoy the feel of her, against you, and just as you become accustomed to the overwhelming emotions rushing through you, she tips you off balance again.

This time, instead of running down your arms, her fingers play up your sides, brush along your breasts and you almost shoot up at the electricity racing through you now. She lingers just a few seconds too long before she lets her hands travel down your arms, adjusting your hold on the cue once again and then, well then she shifts.

To any outsider, it looks as if the Captain has stepped to the side to let you make your shot. Only you know that her legs are now straddling your hips, her hand has made its way under the hem of your shirt and you realize you're trembling. You're frozen in place, unable to execute, and she leans forward, breathes against your neck and then she speaks.

'Go ahead. Shoot your shot.'

Art by PANTieStalker

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When she says 'Sweet dreams' your consciousness violently pierces through the alcove-imposed state of trance and your eyes snap open. You catch sight of her turning towards the exit and with quick steps you make your way down the steps to where you can grab her hand and stop her from leaving. She freezes and you instinctively tug on her arm so she'll turn and use her momentum to slip your hands around her, pull her into a shy hug.

Her hands snake around your waist and her head ends up on your shoulder. You're glad for the height your heels provide you right now, because it means you can hold her and let your face sink into the top of her head. You rest your cheek on her as you pull her closer to you. You're not sure what compelled you to interrupt your regeneration, just that it was imperative that she didn't leave, now that you're back with her.

You realize you've started trembling and her hold has gotten stronger on you, she's turned her face into your neck and is making soothing sounds, rubbing your back and it finally breaks out of you. 'I could not bear the thought of her hurting you. And in doing what she asked, I hurt you myself. You could have died. I could not live with that reality. I am sorry.' Tears have started flowing down your face and the next words come out between hiccups 'Can you forgive me? Please...' You're not entirely sure what you're asking from her but she seems to know, just like she always does, always has.

'Oh my sweet darling' rushes out of your Captain and she pulls you impossible tighter, and then her lips are on you, she's kissing you and you know this is exactly what you were asking of her. Her face is just as wet with tears as yours, and you kiss her back, feverishly, let your hands start wandering, needing to feel her heart beating steady under her skin. You feel her heartbeat at her neck, hear it accelerate at your touch. Your tears dry as fast as they came, as an entirely different need comes over you.

You pull her with you and as your back hits the console, she pushes into you with just as much fervor, kisses you for long minutes with her hands gliding all over you, no way for her to access your skin through the biosuit. She pulls back suddenly, and looks at you seriously. 'Do not, ever, do something like this again.'

You really wish she hadn't said that.

'I can not promise to never again put myself in harms way to protect you, Captain.' As soon as the words are out, her eyes become steel and her face hardens, but not before you see pain run across her features.

'I think you should regenerate now, Seven. Doctor's orders.' This time, she turns to leave without tucking you in.

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You know you've stepped way over the line when the Captain comes storming into Astrometrics, her quick entrance belying her outward calm demeanor. She's avoided you since that night, has withdrawn behind the command she holds, and you, in turn, have taken out your frustration on every single crew member that had the bad fortune to cross your path.

It seems you have forced her into your path now, as well.

'What the fuck is all of this about, Seven' she hisses and comes to stand right next to you, just a tad too close, and you can feel her body vibrating with the anger she's holding in.

'I do not know what you're referring to.' You answer haughtily, and semi-honestly. You have a feeling your latest full blown fight with B'Elanna is what brought the Captain here, but to be fair, you've had plenty of altercations in the last few days. How are you supposed to know what this is about.

Her face darkens even more and all her avoidance is gone, replaced by her usual need to violate your personal space and seeing the fire in her eyes, rather than pain, twists your stomach into a tight ball of desire. 'You need to stop antagonizing the entire crew. Do I have to make that an order?' She spits out, still burning with fury. You find you like her like this, hot and so alive, so you decide to stoke the flames.

'Like you ordered me to regenerate, Captain?' You spit out, and she looks as if you've slapped her, eyes going wide, her teeth grinding together to try to contain her outrage.

'That was different and you know it' she hisses, eyes narrowed now, but you know you've landed a hit and you wonder whether you can break that wall completely. You turn around to face her, make her back into the rounded console of Astrometrics, and her eyes widen as she swallows visibly. You stop yourself from pressing against her, no matter how much you just want to rip her clothes off and take her.

'I do not see the difference, Captain. In both cases, you fear my actions might interfere with your command.' You can see the cracks in her mask and they spur you on, make you bolder. 'You're afraid of me. I have to say, I never expected that from you.' You let the hurt bleed through now, but it's laced with the desire you are tired of hiding. You know she sees it. More importantly, you know she wants you. You take a step forward, pinning her against the console, and she takes a shaky breath to steady herself.

'How dare...' She starts but you don't let her get the deflection in. Instead you go for your last hand. You lean forward now, leaving only a few centimeters between your face and hers, and looking down at her like this - it takes all your willpower to not just finally kiss her again. You push through, put all that's on the line into your eyes.

'I know I made a mistake. And I know you still want me, Captain. Your previous actions have shown me as much. You have been punishing me, denying me, for your fear, like a coward.' You lift your ocular implant, observe the complete destruction of her command mask right in front of you, and then go for the final blow. 'I did not think you a coward, Captain. Are you?'

A strangled noise that could be a growl or a cry comes out of her then and she surges forward, kisses you hard, and you smirk in triumph. Her lips are bruising, her hand tangles in the back of your neck and pulls you down and you lift her up to sit on the console. Her legs wrap around you in an instant, and the heat against your lower abdomen makes the flames inside you lick higher, and something just gives.

You growl and tear apart her tunic, uncovering the grey tank top you love so much on her. She moans at your aggressive display and your hand finds her breast, roughly toys with already hard nipples while your other hand fumbles with her pants.

Where the last time was full of gentle touches and soft sighs, now you're fueled by your anger and it tightly wraps around the desire you have for her and you yank to open her pants and slip your hand into the waiting heat. She groans, pressing into you, and you're dizzy with the feeling of her already soaked panties. She's slung her arms around your neck and her face is tipped back in a delicious display of want and surrender and you decide now to claim her completely.

She's a wanton mess in front of you, top and bra pushed up to reveal a heaving chest and pebbled nipples, flushed from the heat running through her and your hand disappears in her black pants in a deliciously erotic display of need. You slip your hand underneath her underwear, and as you slide through her wetness she lets out a sound between a moan and a scream and you have to clench your teeth to not yell out your pleasure yourself. Instead you push into her, roughly, and begin biting her neck, the tendons strained with effort there, and she rewards you with low vibrations in her throat and tightening muscles around your fingers.

'Chakotay to Captain Janeway' comes from her com badge then and you ignore the sound, so insignificant does it seem to you, but she freezes, tenses, and with great reluctance you halt your movements inside her. You lean back a bit, give her access to her badge, but you won't leave her. She clears her throat, once, twice, before she hits the badge a little harder than usual.

'Janeway here. What is this about?' she pushes out and you're in awe of her ability to sound almost entirely normal, as if your fingers weren't still twitching inside of her.

'Mr. Kim has detected some anomalous readings that I think require your immediate attention.' You know what will happen next, are under no illusion that the Starfleet Captain you've given your heart to will do what the ship needs.

'Understood. I'll be there shortly.' She grinds out and then closes the channel, looking at you with the frustration that you feel. 'Seven, I think... ah... I need to get dressed.' She says, a little sheepishly, and you decide to let her go, but not without one last, deliciously slow push before you slide out of her. She groans and then she laughs, and you find all the anger has dissipated, has blossomed into something light and silly and good.

You step back, try to get your breathing under control, try to ignore the throbbing between your legs. Seeing your Captain's mussed hair, her kiss-swollen lips, the blush on her cheeks and the fire in her eyes, knowing you are the reason for it, makes it near impossible. You turn and go to replicate a new tunic, realizing you've ripped hers apart beyond repair.

She's managed to arrange her pants and top and is running through her hair with her hands to get it under control again. You hold the tunic out to her and her eyes widen as she looks between you and the garment, and then she laughs, a full, deep laugh you rarely hear from her. It makes your heart flutter and your stomach clench and all the effort to control your breathing was for nothing.

Once she's become the Captain again you prepare for a curt exit, but she surprises you by putting her hand to your cheek. As she looks at you her eyes sparkle, her grin is crooked and you can't help but answer with a similar lopsided smile, however small.

'Be good, ok?' she pleads and kisses you, tenderly this time, and you find yourself nodding, conceding to her. You don't really feel like taking your feelings out on anyone but her anymore, anyway.

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She really should have expected this. Did she think she could just show up to the get together in the mess hall, looking like this and not catch your attention? Her scandalized look at your hand on her butt is wholly amusing to you, for the aforementioned reasons. You express as much with a haughtily raised eyebrow and squeeze. She gasps. And shifts out of your reach, but just by a few centimeters. You smirk. It's still early, you have time.

She roams the room and you know she can feel your eyes follow her every move. If it makes her feel some way or another, she doesn't show it. You watch her engage with the crew around her, chat with different groups of people and after three drinks you decide you've waited long enough. When she steps to the side and isn't immediately swarmed by people you sense your moment.

You come up next to her and, this time, opt for your hand on the small of her back. She doesn't move away. You start painting patterns on her skin there, the low cut back of her short, soft flowing dress enticing to you in wholly new ways. She starts conversing with you in low tones and once she's entirely relaxed with your touch, you chance moving your hand lower, her ass still your desired destination. She quirks an eyebrow at you.

'What are you doing?' She asks, but she doesn't move.

'Didn't you tell me to "shoot my shot", Captain?' you respond in low tones and it has the desired effect. You had to ask Tom to explain the idiom, but when he did, it was a revelation. And now, her pupils dilate and she sucks in a breath as you turn the saying around on her. You smile slowly, and she takes a second to reply, but when she does, you see that glint in her eyes again.

'By all means, go ahead.' You're a little surprised, you weren't aware stating the intention wasn't equal to shooting the shot. She can tell you are stumped, and her hand lands on your arm, squeezes reassuringly. There's still a glint in her eye when she laughs quietly, then her face becomes somber and she looks at you, into you. 'Are you sure?'

There's no question in your mind. 'Absolutely, Kathryn.' you reply, and at your use of her given name, her eyes go soft and she nods.

'Let's get out of here.' She looks around, plotting the best route out of the mess hall and starts striding with purpose. You hurry to follow her, and with the exception of the Doctor insisting on a short chat, you get through the room quickly and leave.

You feel nerves flutter and you're suddenly unsure how to act. You opt to keep following her to the turbolift, anxiety making you stand at attention in front of it while you wait. You're aware that she's shooting you an amused look, and hope this feeling will dissipate.

As soon as the turbolift closes and the Captain has stated your destination, she turns on you and this time you're the one being pushed against the wall. Considering the height difference there shouldn't be a way that she is quite so imposing, but she is, and it's enough to slash through your anxious flutters and replace them with heat.

She has you cornered, but now she takes her time. Her hands sit lightly on your hips and her lips are currently making their way up your neck, nipping and sucking, and you moan and move your head to give her access. She chuckles into your neck and a chuckle shouldn't be this arousing, but the low vibrations send shivers down your back and you press forward, pull her into you, and the doors whoosh open. She gives you a coy smile, tugs on your hand to follow her and you can't imagine anything else you'd rather do.

You can't tear your eyes from the muscles playing on her back and the boldness from earlier is back in full force. As soon as you're inside her quarters you reach out with your hand and trace a line from her neck down to the small of her back.

'You should know I enjoy this garment immensely' you husk, and she's standing still in front of you, lets you explore her without interference. You step closer, let the fingertips of both of your hands play across her back and watch the goosebumps with fascination. When your lips brush just below her neck she shivers, and you smile, excited for more of her.

You let your hands glide under the soft fabric, circling her waist, and bring your lips onto her shoulder. You can feel a tremor under your hands as you trace her trapezius muscle, then follow her clavicle to her sternocleidomastoid with your tongue. You can't help it and nip just at the juncture to her mandible, and the soft whimper coming from her makes something inside you melt.

Your hands wander up, and the featherlight touches allow you to feel the play of muscles under your fingertips and you pick up on her accelerated breathing. You move up, and even though you rationally knew you would find her breasts, the feeling of them, soft yet hardened in your palms makes your breath hitch and shoots right between your legs.

She pushes into your hands and you get the hint, stop teasing and start pinching, rolling her nipples. The sounds falling out of her now are fuel to your fire, and your ministrations to her neck become more insistent, soft nips and bites that sting. You feel so close to her now, and you're content to just keep doing this, forever. So you continue your play, listening intently to her moans that are becoming deeper, more ragged, with every twist of your fingers, every bite.

A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if you can reach between her legs from your position under her dress. You let one hand travel lower, and you're delighted to discover that while you're a little restricted, you can easily reach first her Pectineus and then your hand plays over the soft triangle of hair you find, and she lets out a deep groan.

She's already leaning against you but her legs give out, so you wrap your other hand tighter around her upper body, holding her against you as you position your leg between hers from behind. She falls open for you, trusts you to hold her, completely, and that realization makes your chest tighten. 'Do you know how long I've wanted to hold you like this, touch you this way?' you ask, and she shakes her head, unable to formulate an answer at your insistent fingers playing just shy of where she wants you most.

You lose yourself in the feel of her, the way her muscles tense under your touch and the moans that are constantly tumbling out of her now, and you're not sure what you're waiting for. And then she proves that she knows, as she always does. 'Please, Seven. Please.' she whispers and it's all that you needed and never knew. Your hand glides down with confidence and you groan at the wetness you find, the twitching of her muscles that you can feel all over you, and you've found your favorite place.

She's grinding against your hand, wet and open and moaning, and when you look down at her all you want is to see all of her. You tear the top of the dress and push it down with your hand and she's naked, writhing, on your thigh, all self-control forgotten in the pleasure you're giving her. If your confidence wasn't already at an all time high, this sight would catapult you into the stratosphere. You let the tips of your fingers glide lightly over her clitoris, and she presses up to meet your touch, too light to be enough but firm enough to drive her out of her mind.

'Fuck, you feel so good, oh god yes, please, Seven, make me come for you' tumbles out of her in one stream and fuck she's going to make you come with that deliciously filthy mouth of hers. You're suddenly aware of her ass pushing into your crotch and the friction has built to a burning that won't be ignored anymore. You slightly shift to increase the pressure on yourself and oh, yes, that will do.

Your movements become more insistent, firmer strokes for her and tighter grinds for yourself and before you know it you feel her fingers digging into your thigh as she comes into your hand, on your thigh, and the long, drawn out moan makes you push into her until you follow her with a groan.

It takes all your concentration not to fall to the floor with her on top of you, and you pull her closer in an effort to steady both of you. She's panting in your arms, and you feel like hours have passed, not mere minutes, when she turns around and looks at you with lust-blown eyes. She kisses you, hard, and lets her hands run over your arms, your back, your ass, and grabs. You've come full circle. She's circling you, methodically peels you out of your clothes and as your back hits the wall behind you, you realize you've been put into position. When she kneels in front of you to pull down your pants, looks up at you just so you stop breathing.

She runs her fingers across your legs, kisses your stomach and up to your breasts, and when she lets her tongue glide over your hardened nipple you expel all the air in your lungs in one long moan. She's more insistent, firmer than you were with her touch, and you know you couldn't bear anything else right now.

She's on her knees again, and you don't think you'll ever get used to this, get enough of it, and the realization hits you that you're entirely hers. Her hands knead your breasts and play with your nipples as her lips press open mouthed kisses across your stomach, lower, making her stretch deliciously in front of you. You can't help but let your hand fall onto her head, run through her hair, hold her against you in a plea to never let go.

She rests her head against the softness of your belly for a moment before she nuzzles in that crease between your hip and the beginning of your leg and you know to let go. Her hands move away from your chest, making you feel a surprising loss, and then she looks up at you with a smirk and you know you're in trouble.

She gets comfortable on her knees and then lifts your right leg to come rest on her shoulder. You tense, but her hand pushes you back a little, makes you rest against the wall. As you do, you realize she's put you on display in front of her and self-consciousness threatens to descend on you. She's ahead of you again, and her fingers run across your abdominal implants, make you shiver and jerk your hips toward her, and the look of pure desire on her face puts a blush on your cheeks.

She makes sure you're looking at her and then she holds your eyes as she moves forward and takes a long, languid swipe along the length of you. Your hand flies to her head now, needing to ground yourself in the feel of her. She chuckles against your clit and you almost come undone right there. She moves back a little and shakes her head.

'Fuck Seven, do you know how delicious you are?' It's your turn to shake your head mutely and she smiles at you, brilliantly, and then she leans forward again and you have to close your eyes, too overwhelming is the visual in front of you.

Your head tips back and hers goes forward, soft lazy strokes make your skin burn and then you feel her shift and she's pushing into you, filling you. You gasp at the sensation of her, the languid strokes now deep inside of you, and she alternates the strokes on your clit, inside of you, until all your senses have reduced to the feelings she's creating. The sensations are rippling outwards from her tongue, across your entire body until you are shaking, pulling her head closer in a desperate plea for more. She hums and her strokes become firmer, harder, and you, you let out a benediction as she makes you scream 'Captain'.

You ride her for as long as you can and then slide down the wall, spent and delirious. She nestles into you, against your chest and you hold her there, right where your heart is. You know without a doubt everything has changed, and you wouldn't want it any other way.