Rain

Kathryn Janeway laughed with delight as she dashed through the rain, half-heartedly dodging some puddles and intentionally stomping through others. Her dismayed companion, Seven of Nine, set a more rapid and single-minded pace a few meters ahead.

"Oh, this is wonderful! It's been ages since I've been caught in a cloud burst! Like showering in nature itself. Isn't this lovely, Seven?!" she yelled ahead.

"No, Captain, it is not!" the Borg snapped.

Seven understood that the captain had been under a great deal of pressure lately and that this shore-leave would replenish her in profound ways, but she had not expected such a remarked change in the captain's demeanor. Janeway was behaving....well, she had heard the expression "acting like a kid in a candy store" to describe the sort of giddiness the captain was displaying, but honestly Seven could not recall Naomi Wildman ever behaving so immaturely. Nor did Naomi's games ever result in Seven's becoming so uncomfortably wet!

"Perhaps you could quicken your pace, Captain. I'd like to reach the canopy of those trees before I'm an old drone.....And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from splashing me further!"

"What do you have against rain, Seven?"

"At the moment, my skin, my hair, my clothing..."

Janeway barked at the unexpected humor, even if it was thick with sarcasm. "You're getting much better at that," she complimented.

"Better at what?"

"Making jokes."

"I was not aware I had made a joke. I will endeavor to be more careful in the future."

The captain laughed again. "I think you're a natural."

When they reached cover, the Borg turned on the captain. "Why didn't you allow me to call for a beam-out as soon as the storm broke?"

"This little shower?" Janeway understated as a lightning bolt hit nearby.

"My ears just popped, Captain," Seven grumbled. "Does thunder usually do that?"

"Only the really yummy thunder, Seven," Janeway teased.

"That made absolutely no sense." Another lightning bolt struck even nearer. "We cannot remain out here. It is too dangerous."

"Oh, all right," she relented. She tapped her combadge to open a link to the ship but received only an anemic chirple in reply. "O-Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh, oh'?" the Borg asked in slow, deadly tones.

Janeway smirked. Ignoring the question, she unceremoniously grabbed Seven's hand and practically slapped it against the young woman's own combadge. It seemed to droop a little on her chest as it retorted with the same meek chortle.

"The storm must be interfering with communications," the captain concluded.

As the wind picked up, Seven blinked against the water splashing her face. "Do you still find this 'refreshing'?"

"Yes, actually," she responded sincerely as she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the currents of watery air.

"I believe your obsession with precipitation is abnormal, Captain."

"It's not an 'obsession'; it's an appreciation," Janeway corrected. "And as for it being 'abnormal', lots of people love the rain.....Kes appreciated it," she added, suddenly remembering her former crew member.

"Kes? The Ocampa who was on Voyager when I was severed from the Collective?"

"That's right."

"What makes you remember her now?" Seven asked curiously.

"The rain, itself, I think," Janeway mused. "The surface of Kes's homeworld was an arid desert. Maybe that's why she--and Neelix, too, by the way--absolutely adored water, in all its forms." The captain smiled fondly through her nostalgia. "Kes often pressed Chakotay to let her go on Away missions that involved systems like this one. She loved the rain....."

There was a pang of regret in Janeway's tone. Kes's transformation into a higher mode of existence--an energy lifeform--forced her to leave her home on Voyager. This, in turn, had left a gaping hole in Janeway's heart, especially since she couldn't thank her Ocampan friend for the departing gift she bestowed. On leaving Voyager, Kes generated a massive energy wave that safely transported the ship thousands of light years, well past Borg space and several years closer to home. It was a loving gift, so like Kes, who had always deeply cared for the physical and emotional well-being of the people around her. The captain missed her dear friend terribly, often wondering where Kes was now and if she was happy.

With a heavy sigh, Janeway forced herself out of her reverie, turning her attention again to her current companion, who was also very dear to her heart....even if the former Borg was still struggling to find her own heart.

"Honestly, Seven," she said more gently now, "there's nothing odd about enjoying a good rainstorm. Several other crew members appreciate this sort of thing, too."

"Pity you did not invite one of them," the Borg retorted.

"Your problem," the captain teased, "is that you don't know how to have a good time."

"'Good time' incorrectly characterizes our present predicament. We are on a planet with unpleasant and potentially dangerous atmospheric disturbances. We cannot contact Voyager. And since Commander Chakotay has not had us beamed up already, I suspect that the storm is interfering with the transporters, which means we are stranded here without supplies or adequate cover."

Just then, as if to mock Seven, the two women heard the tinny singsong of a transport. They turned in time to see what looked like two black tubes materializing, along with a PADD, about a meter and a half to Seven's left.

"You were saying?" Janeway gloated.

Irritation flashed across the young woman's face, but she did not respond. Instead, she dashed out, scooped up the objects, and leapt back under the nominal shelter of the trees.

"Oh, lovely," Janeway said, grabbing the nearest tube.

"What are they?"

"Umbrellas."

"'Umbrellas'?"

Janeway smirked and restated with exaggerated precision: "Starfleet standard issue retractable counter-diluvial shields for ground personnel."

"Ah," Seven responded with evident satisfaction, missing the subtle mockery.

"There's also a compartment here at the tip with an insulated poncho inside.....Better keep those dry for the time being. We may need to get out of these wet clothes if we're going to be stuck here for a while."

"A wise decision at last, Captain," Seven scoffed, handing Janeway the PADD she had just glimpsed. "According to this message, Voyager will not be able to retrieve us until the storm 'blows over'.......in approximately 10 hours!" Seven resisted the temptation to say 'I told you so', but there was a hint of triumph sharpening her otherwise soggy features.

Janeway ignored the look. "Hmm. Apparently they can send a few small objects through but don't want to risk trying to transport us. Fortunately, they got everybody else off before the storm hit." Janeway pressed her hand against a suddenly rumbling stomach. "Sure wish they had sent down a little food."

As if by magic, they heard the transport beams again and saw a small picnic basket materializing in the same spot. This time, before retrieving it, Seven patiently opened her own umbrella and held it over her head as she stepped out to retrieve the basket.

"Wonderful!" Janeway cried. "All we need to do now is find some shelter." She looked around and then spotted what appeared to be the top of a gazebo some ten meters and directly behind them through the trees. Janeway could have sworn it hadn't been there only moments ago. And she couldn't quite imagine what it was since the planet was uninhabited. She guessed that it must be a natural structure of some kind. But whatever it was, it looked as though it could provide them with better cover.

"This way," she instructed, as she opened her own umbrella.

They ran again, and again Janeway delighted in the rain, which by now had turned into a heavy downpour. "I just love this."

Seven rolled her eyes and sidled past the captain, grunting as she hefted the basket higher and quickened her pace. When she cleared the trees, she came to an abrupt stop, causing Janeway to run into her from behind with an audible "unmph."

Janeway was about to complain when she saw what had so captivated her companion. "Oh."

The two women were silent for a long moment as they studied the structure before them in astonishment.

"What is it doing here, Captain?" Seven finally broke in.

"I have no idea!" she marveled. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You have never seen a bed?" Seven queried.

"Well not in the middle of a rainforest!" she explained. "And not one quite so......huge!"

It was, indeed, a huge, four-poster bed--two body heights long and one body height across--with a translucent canopy and white satin panels billowing and draping around the entire perimeter. Despite the slits in-between, the panels of fabric appeared to provide sufficient protection to keep the bed dry.

"This shouldn't be here," Janeway remarked unnecessarily. "Do you suppose it was left behind by previous visitors?"

"They would have to have been very large beings," Seven considered, as she curled her neck and shoulder gingerly around the umbrella handle so she could free up her right hand. She retrieved her tricorder and began to run a scan. Pursing her lips, she studied the readouts. "Scans do not detect any residual organic traces in the bed. The sheets are completely clean and show no signs of aging."

"Must be a new bed."

"No, Captain. According to the tricorder, the bed is at least 300 years old."

"Could it have been transported here?"

"There do appear to be traces of an energy signature, but it is not a standard transport residue. I will have to run a spectral analysis in Astrometrics when we return to Voyager; at the moment, however, I cannot identify the source of the signature." She holstered the scanner and retook possession of the umbrella handle, awaiting the captain's response.

Janeway bit her lower lip and frowned. "Very odd," she said pensively. "It's almost as if it's been waiting here for us."

"For 'us', Captain?"

"Well, I mean, for anyone getting stuck in the rain."

"That is illogical," Seven announced. "Even if it were a matter of predestination, why would we--or 'anyone getting stuck in the rain'--be fated to find a bed? Why not something with the more direct purpose of simply providing shelter?"

Janeway smirked. "Maybe the fates knew how weary we'd be," she stated pointedly, piercing Seven with an accusatory look.

"They would be correct," Seven countered easily. "In my case, however, they should have provided a regeneration alcove, preferably in a dry place far away from the rain.....and the noise," she added, eyeing Janeway with equally sharp daggers.

"I'm sorry I said anything," Janeway mumbled.

"What do you wish to do, Captain?" Seven pressed, wanting to take shelter now.

"Is it safe?"

"It is a bed."

"I mean are there any other oddities about it that could endanger us.....after all, it's a 300-year-old bed out in the middle of nowhere!"

Seven conceded the point, although her typically smug expression made it impossible to tell. "There are no additional abnormalities," she replied. "The worst that could happen is falling off the side, which seems unlikely given the girth of the bed."

"Well, then, I guess we should get out of these wet clothes and hop in there," Janeway blurted. Then she considered what she had just suggested and found herself suddenly nervous at the prospect of lying naked in a bed with her Astrometrics officer.

Seven wasn't sure she liked the idea either and decided to stall. "After you, Captain."

Janeway swallowed apprehensively. It was no coincidence, of course, that she and Seven so often found themselves in odd predicaments. After all, the captain went out of her way to invite the Borg to join her in a wide variety of pastimes. But there were other things, too. Accidents, aliens, and anomalies that consistently threw them together and made them share experiences that were unique to them: getting trapped together on Arturis's ship, confronting the Borg queen together in her chamber, even traveling through time itself together so that they could save Voyager. That's what she had meant about fate. There were simply too many experiences that they alone had in common.

These experiences, moreover, had caused Janeway to develop a certain fondness for her forthright young friend. She suspected, too, that Seven, despite her rumblings and complaints, enjoyed being in the captain's company. And it was this mutual fondness that made the captain suddenly leery about the delicious opportunity that had just presented itself....lounging naked in a cozy bed with the voluptuous Seven of Nine. It was too good to be true, and it was too dangerous, providing temptations that might prove too hard to resist.

'On the other hand', she considered, 'I'm a Starfleet captain'. Janeway allowed the thought to give her a sense of security, as if merely thinking it provided a level-ten forcefield against all sorts of dangers and temptations. It was not the first time she had indulged in that little conceit. And it would not be the last.

"All right," she said finally, accepting the challenge with commanding pride.

Seven shook the water off the basket and placed it on the end of the bed, under the canopy. She then took Janeway's umbrella and held it over her head, freeing up the captain's hands so she could take off her soaked uniform.

Janeway removed the red tunic first and wrung the water out of it. Then she shook it open and hung it on a hook along the inside of the nearest post, where two adjoining panels of the silky fabric would shield it from further rain.

"I don't know if these clothes will dry here, but at least we can keep them from getting any wetter," she explained unnecessarily.

She then pulled up a foot and began trying to remove a boot but teetered precariously.

Seven stuck out her elbow to offer support.

Janeway accepted it, holding on with one hand as she removed her boots and socks with the other. She drained them of water and then set them underneath the bed, which was also remarkably dry and unmuddied.

Next, she took off her trousers and repeated the wringing action distractedly. She was beginning to feel a little self-conscious now that she was getting down to her skivvies. It didn't help that Seven was studying the captain's purple cotton briefs with deliberate intensity.

"Why do you wear so many clothes, Captain?"

"This is all standard attire," she explained as she stripped off the long-sleeved pullover, peeling it apart from the half-shirt underneath. "Three-piece uniform....and undergarments, of course."

"I have only the one garment," Seven explained, indicating her unitard.

"Really?" Janeway said with apparent disappointment. "I was going to suggest we might want to leave on the underwear," she added bashfully.

"We have the 'ponchos', Captain. I believe it would be wiser to remove all the wet clothing," Seven suggested, more intrigued now by the process.

"OK. Uh, I know this sounds silly but, could you close your eyes?"

Seven quirked her metallic brow. "Is that necessary?"

"Absolutely," Janeway commanded, using that tone that indicated she would brook no objection.

Seven closed her eyes obediently, but when she finally heard the slight creak of the bedsprings, she couldn't help taking a peek, catching an unexpected view of the captain's bare bottom as the smaller woman crawled up onto the edge of the bed. Seven smiled, quickly closing her eyes as the captain turned to face her.

"OK, give me the umbre-.....you peeked!" Janeway accused, catching the curl of the full Borg lips.

Seven opened her eyes and took in the full sight. "I apologize, Captain," she lied. "I could not....resist."

Janeway smirked. "Give me my umbrella please."

Seven complied.

Janeway closed it, shook the water off, and then removed the poncho-like raincoat from the compartment in the tubing. Quickly drying herself against the end of the nearest silk drape, she unfurled the makeshift garment and pulled it over her head and body. It was pleasantly warm and blissfully dry, but--much to the captain's chagrin--it was also painfully transparent.

"Damn."

Seven bit back a laugh.

Janeway caught that expression, too. "OK, your turn," she announced with almost sadistic glee, getting up on her knees and then reaching for Seven's umbrella.

That wiped the smile off of Seven's face. She reluctantly yielded her umbrella to Janeway's impatient fingers and then slowly reached around the back of her garment to unzip it. When it was loose enough, she took a breath and briefly glanced up at the captain's eyes as she began bashfully tugging the sleeves off. She was dismayed to find that the older woman was openly staring with apparently no intention of looking away. That annoyed Seven.

"Now you must close your eyes, Captain!" she commanded. "And no peeking," she added for good measure.

Janeway closed her eyes with a smile. "OK," she agreed, "but I'm not making any promises about the peeking."

Before the words were quite out, she felt Seven scurrying onto the bed and past her. Next thing she knew, the young woman had dried herself and was already snuggled under the covers at the other end.

Janeway saw her and smirked in mild annoyance. "You better not have wet the bed," she warned.

"I did not," the young woman vowed.

Seven couldn't quite resist the temptation to ogle her companion, the darker geometric shapes of the captain's private parts plainly visible through the clear material and drawing the Borg's curious attention.

"Perhaps you should get under the covers, too."

"I guess I should," Janeway conceded. "Better not forget this," she added, grabbing the basket at the end before crawling up to the top of the bed.

She handed the basket to Seven, who immediately began unpacking it as the captain got underneath the covers.

"I suppose I don't really need this anymore," she said, indicating the poncho. "And since it's starting to stick to me....." she trailed off, removing the raincoat to complete the thought.

Janeway took a breath, allowing herself finally to relax. She began to consider their circumstances and decided that these were, in fact, quite pleasant conditions. The bed was soft and warm and blissfully dry, while around it, the rain cradled them in its calming sound. Scattered rays of sunlight needled their way through the rain clouds and treetops, glinting off the freshly washed leaves and making them vivid with color. And the gentle breeze that wafted across the bed was thick with the rich odors of the storm--the tangy, metallic smell of ionized air mingling with the heady scent of wet earth.

"You know," Janeway observed finally, "This is actually kind of cozy."

"It is good to be warm and dry," Seven agreed. "And I believe we will also be well fed."

"And well quenched," Janeway added, eyeing the bottle of Bajoran wine that Seven was in the process of opening.

Janeway retrieved the glasses and held them up for filling as she glanced over their feast. They had fruits and cheeses, slices of sweet ham, a savory liver paste, sesame crisps, and jam and honey for the soft and buttery dinner rolls, still warm thanks to their wrappings. Janeway also spotted a silver thermal container.

"If that's coffee in there, somebody's getting a promotion."

"And if it's not?" Seven asked, topping off the second glass.

"Well, someone deserves at least a commendation for this meal," Janeway smiled.

Seven placed the open bottle back into its holder in one corner of the basket and took her own glass from Janeway, who was grateful to have her hand free now. She immediately grabbed the nearest cube of cheese and popped it in her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the mellow flavor.

"Mmmm," she said. She opened her eyes and smiled happily at Seven. "Cheers," she offered before taking a sip of the wine.

Seven mimicked the movement, smiling to herself as the smooth, dry liquid caressed its way warmly down her gullet.

"It is good," she said surprised.

"Yes," Janeway responded distractedly. "Oh, try the ham. It's heaven."

Seven retrieved a slice for herself. "'Oh', indeed!" she agreed after a moment. "I did not realize I was so hungry, and I do not understand why everything tastes so good."

"Maybe it's the long walk we took," Janeway guessed around another mouthful. "Or maybe it's just the atmosphere here. I think rain enriches everything. Brings out scents and textures and flavors more. Can't you just smell the minerals in the soil and the woodsiness of the tree bark and the green of the leaves."

"Yes, I believe I can."

"Mmm. Smell the strawberries in the jam," Janeway suggested.

"Jam?"

"It's a sweet, fruit spread. Here, taste." Janeway slathered jam on a morsel of bread and raised the treat to Seven's lips.

The Borg opened her mouth automatically to accept the morsel. Then her eyes shut involuntarily, her body instinctively focusing all its attention on the pleasant flavor. She smiled.

She opened her eyes wide in mild surprise. "That is delicious!"

"Isn't it?" Janeway asked. She reached out again to swipe her thumb across Seven's chin, where a little jam had dribbled, and then automatically brought her thumb up to her own mouth to lick the jam off.

Seven found herself unaccountably moved by that gesture, which seemed a little familiar, almost intimate. The captain, in turn, caught the Borg's reaction and felt suddenly self-conscious.

"Well, it's too good to go to waste," she mumbled.

Seven quirked her brow. She then playfully looked over the selections and decided to try the liver paste, acutely aware of the captain's surveillance as she spread the paste on a crisp. Returning her gaze to Janeway's she deliberately bit through half the crisp and again delighted in the flavors.

"Mmm," she intoned. "You should try this one, Captain," she suggested, taking a turn at feeding Janeway now by holding up the other half of the cracker she had just bitten.

More aware now of Seven than of the snack at her lips, Janeway stared intently at the blue eyes as her mouth opened distractedly. "Yes," she agreed, not really tasting this time, "that's good, too."

Seven smiled at the effect she was having on the captain, not quite sure of its source or of the reciprocal emotions stirring in her own body. All she knew for certain was that she was teasing the captain in some unfathomable way, and she liked how this was making her feel in turn.

Janeway quickly recovered and sensed that a game was afoot. Not one to be outdone, she gently pinched the center of a sheet of the paper-thin ham and picked it up, letting the edges drape down in delectable folds. Then, as Seven watched her, she deliberately held it over her parted lips and coiled it onto her tongue until the entire portion had melted into her mouth. As she devoured it, she picked up another slice in the same manner and held it this time over Seven's lips. The Borg accepted the offer, 'accidentally' brushing her tongue against the captain's fingers before they retreated.

As Seven chewed, she watched the captain deliberately licking her own fingertips along the same area where Seven's tongue had been. That casual intimacy, too, sent shivers through the Borg.

Seven felt suddenly thirsty from the ham but decided she needed something more quenching than wine. She returned her goblet to its holder in the basket and, instead, disengaged the cup from the captain's coffee container. Then she leaned back, reaching past the cover of the canopy, to retrieve some rainwater. As she did, the sheet she had been demurely holding against her breasts slid down provocatively. Seven leaned back in and began to drink the water, not bothering to pull the sheet back up even though both women were acutely aware it had fallen. Janeway smiled to herself, knowing that the casual maneuver with the cup had been deliberate. Seven had begun by imitating Janeway's little flirtations; but, ever the quick study, the young woman was now engaging in a very fine seduction of her captain. That idea made something deep inside Kathryn Janeway twitter with unexpected and almost forgotten pleasure.

Seven had been watching Janeway intently and now pulled her mouth away from the cup. "Would you like some?" she asked, holding the cup out to the captain.

They never broke eye contact as Janeway brought her hands up and covered Seven's, and together they tilted the cup in the captain's direction so she, too, could slake her thirst.

"I need some more," Janeway announced, deliberately taking the cup from Seven and this time reaching back herself to refill it with rainwater. Of course, her sheet, too, pulled away from her breasts.

Seven did not object. Her lips curled as she studied the captain's breasts--taking in the sight of their perfect roundness, the very slight sag from the weight, the dark pink rings and nipples, which were pebbling and tightening right before Seven's eyes.

Janeway allowed the inspection and didn't mind at all that her own pleasure in it was apparent. She even arched her back a little as she took another gulp of water, careful to give Seven an unobstructed view.

The young woman openly gaped, reaching off to the side absently to dip a finger into the jam and bring it again to her mouth. In her distraction, she let a glob slip from her finger and plop to her chest.

"You've spilt some jam," Janeway observed huskily.

Seven looked down and spotted the ruby streak against the dark pink of her right breast. Remembering that it was 'too good to waste', she casually pulled her breast up with her hand, bent her head down, and licked off the sweet jam.

Janeway was visibly stunned by the action, mouth agape and eyes wide, fixed on the freshly laved nipple.

"Are you all right, Captain?" Seven asked softly.

"I...." she croaked, then cleared her throat and began again, "I....uh, I've just never seen anybody do that before."

Seven cocked her head. "Is it inappropriate?"

"Seven," Janeway blurted, "for most people it's impossible!"

The young woman felt her nipples tighten pleasantly in response to the implied compliment. Again, she failed to understand the precise nature of her own body's reaction, but she smiled nonetheless, particularly as she noticed that the captain couldn't quite seem to stop staring at this private part of her anatomy. The gaze felt like a touch, and her nipples tingled at the imagined contact.

Now it was Seven's back that arched involuntarily, her own body inviting more of the inspection, more of the look that felt like a caress. After a moment, she pursued her original question. "Is it also inappropriate?"

"It depends on who you're with, I guess."

"Is it inappropriate to do it in front of you?" Seven husked.

Janeway took a breath, finally meeting the young woman's eyes. "I don't object," she responded honestly, her pupils growing dark with desire.

The look made Seven's nipples absolutely ache to be touched, and she gave herself over to that sensation.

"Good," she said, "because I wish to do it again."

Janeway swallowed....and watched as Seven dipped her finger in the jam again and smeared it deliberately over the other nipple. Then, making sure the captain was watching, she once again grabbed her breast and hefted the mass toward her lips, turning the pointy tip toward her hungry mouth. She bent her head down, as before, taking in the entire peak this time and sucking languidly on her own nipple.

Janeway inhaled deeply through her nose then let out a slow, shuddering breath. Having never witnessed such a scene, she was unprepared for how it made her feel. The tableau was provocative, sensual, erotic.

Seven pulled her mouth away noisily but did not immediately release herself. Instead, she brought both her hands up and cupped her breasts, as if displaying them to Janeway. Then, all the while watching the captain, the young woman slowly caressed herself, bringing her fingers to the tips of her bosom until she was gently pinching and rolling her nipples....and taking shuddering breaths at the sensations the contact evoked.

Janeway, too, took a shuddering breath, just from the effect of watching Seven touch herself. Her own nipples ached to be squeezed and fondled in the same fashion, but she resisted the urge, content to let the sweet ache persist as she took in the vision before her. Then she gasped anew as Seven mouthed herself again, this time delicately biting one of her nipples, her sharp teeth flashing white against the reddening wet nub.

After releasing the nipple, Seven visibly straightened, her demeanor suddenly more self-assured, as if she had just come to some decision. Carefully taking the captain's cup, she placed it back in the basket, next to the forgotten wine glasses, and then pulled the entire container and its delectable contents to her side of the bed.

Janeway watched the deliberate motions with interest, noticing that there was no longer any barrier between her body and Seven's.

The young woman crossed that small distance on her knees. She then placed her hands on Janeway's bare shoulders and, gripping gently, pressed the smaller woman back onto the bed, unsurprised that the captain was letting herself be guided downward.

Janeway felt her back arching slightly over the pillows underneath, which made her breasts jut out more, vulnerable and exposed. She suspected that this had been Seven's intent, and it made her nerve endings bristle with anticipation as she took yet another shuddering breath. Seven was going to touch her. She felt certain of that, her nipples throbbing painfully now for the contact. Her body was desperate for Seven's touch, that one, overwhelming desire driving out all other rational thought. She closed her eyes, anxious to focus all her attention on the sensations along her bare skin. Then she felt it--Seven's finger smearing the sticky confection on and around her taut right nipple. And in the next moment, she felt Seven's mouth--hot, wet, and rough--engulfing her sweetened nipple and tugging on it enthusiastically.

Janeway gasped.

It took only a moment for Seven's mouth and tongue to consume all the jam, and yet the young woman continued sucking, as if seeking a different kind of nourishment now.

Somehow (amazingly.....if only momentarily), the captain's weakened decorum eked through her raging desire. "Seven," she rasped. "I don't think we should be doing this." She brought her hands up to the young woman's head, honestly intending to nudge it away, but found herself holding the golden head closer. "Seven," she cried again, more ardently.

Seven ignored the ambivalent protest of Janeway's words and yielded, instead, to the earnest assent of her body. She felt oddly safe with her face pressed into the captain's bosom. The scent of the breast was at once calmly pleasing and wildly provocative--a hint of flowers and spice, fleshy and warm against her nose. She inhaled deeply and luxuriated in the subtle play of taste and scent and touch.

Squeezing Janeway's left breast in a promissory grasp, she treated its partner to a parting tug--letting the nipple pull away noisily--and then descended on the left nub. Even without the benefit of jam, she found the flavor of this nipple, too, much to her liking. She enjoyed the texture and the pliancy, the slightly salty taste of the skin, and the sense of having something substantial in her mouth. She marveled at the way the fleshy pebble elongated itself between her tongue and palate when she sucked in and then retreated slightly when she relaxed, as if gently teasing her in a game of catch-me-if-you-can. Deciding to make a valiant effort to catch it, Seven hunkered down and began a languid and deliberate rhythm, pulling the nipple in, again and again, with escalating hunger.

As the rain roared around them, Janeway writhed against a building storm within, feeling the surge of her ecstasy flooding her own low-lying areas. Despite the joyous sensations, however, there was still a small, obnoxiously reasonable part of her that wasn't entirely sure they should be doing this.

"Seven," she croaked, "I don't think you're ready for this," she blurted, trying to get the words out between her uncontrolled spasms. "I can't have sex with you," she added.

Seven had not quite realized that that was what they were doing until the captain verbalized it. And now that Janeway had made the mistake of putting it into words, the Borg developed a single-minded commitment to her accidental course of action.

"Seven," Janeway tried again, "We can't become lovers......you're my crew member."

The young woman ignored that protest, too, refusing to enter into a debate with the captain. Despite her relative lack of personal experience in this area, she felt certain that this was not the time for a 'philosophical discussion'. Undaunted, she simply moaned into Janeway's breast and began gently chewing on the nipple.

"But....I'm your captain......" Janeway bleated half-heartedly, gasping at the sharp edge of enamel against her tender nub.

Seven released the nipple and nuzzled the breast. "From now on.....when we are alone," she announced, "I will call you Kathryn."

The captain shuddered at the presumption in the tone. And when she saw Seven's eyes, her breath caught at the determination and devotion and desire that she found there. Seven's face came closer to her own.

"Kathryn," she whispered against thin red lips. Then she pressed a kiss into them, sensual and heartfelt, and quickly deepening with unrestrained arousal.

Kathryn nearly sobbed against the full lips as she opened herself up to Seven's affections. After long moments, she pulled away for air. "Oh, yes," she breathed, finally drained of protest.

When they resumed kissing, she gripped Seven's right hand and brushed it along her own torso, over the top of her left thigh--which moved involuntarily outward--and then around to the fleshy bulge along the inside, which Seven found unexpectedly wet.

They stopped for breath again, and Seven took the opportunity to caress the flesh at her fingertips, curious about what had made it so wet.

"Rain?" she asked.

Despite the distraction of her growing ecstasy, Kathryn considered the question.

Maybe it was the seductive sound and smell of the water pounding around them. Or maybe it was just a matter of opportunity--the way the storm had isolated them and drenched their clothes, forcing them to disrobe in front of each other. Or, most likely of all, it was the seemingly fated combination of their fantastic circumstances--finding a bed in the middle of a rainforest!--a situation that was so irresistibly delicious in its sensual possibilities that it had made Seven unexpectedly amorous and experimental, and had made Kathryn, in turn, finally lower her defenses. But as she thought about Seven's question, she realized that the rain did, indeed, have everything to do with the way she felt now, with the way her body and her soul were reacting to this beloved young woman.

"Yes, Seven," she smiled. "It's the rain."

Seven frowned in subtle doubt, wondering if the captain's explanation for this moisture was part of her earlier scheme to convince the young Borg that storms were pleasant. She rolled off a bit and looked at the patch of auburn hair between Kathryn's legs. It was matted and wet, too, she noticed. She parted the hair and the sensitive folds underneath and then gently swiped her fingers intimately up the middle, ignoring Kathryn's gasp. She brought her hand up to her face for closer inspection and immediately noticed the scent, rich and musky and intoxicating. Then studying the substance on her fingers, she observed that it was more viscous than water, slightly sticky at first, and then almost silky as she rubbed it slowly into her fingers with her thumb. It was Kathryn's essence, and Seven decided it was good.

She brought her hand back down to Kathryn and gently pushed three fingers deeply into the wellspring of this wetness, pressing firmly as Kathryn's pelvis bucked against them. Then she settled herself over the captain's body again and kissed her sweetly.

"Rain?" Seven asked again to be sure, the doubt--and amusement--more evident in her tone.

Kathryn smiled through her rapture. "Yes....rain."

A laugh bubbled up from Seven as she finally accepted the captain's explanation. "Very well, Kathryn. It is the rain."

She began a slow, intimate caress with her fingers, in and out of Kathryn, marveling at the new flood of moisture that washed over her hand and noticing the sudden wetness between her own legs. Then she nuzzled the captain's neck and almost growled with arousal.

"You were right, Kathryn," she said, finally relenting. "It is fun to get caught in the rain."

*****

Epilogue

As Kathryn and Seven spent the rest of the afternoon making love in the rain, an unseen intelligence watched over them and rejoiced.

It remembered Kathryn Janeway, Voyager's devoted Starfleet captain and a woman full of love and arrested passion. And it remembered Seven of Nine, the former Borg, who needed to be led sweetly back to her humanity. It had tried many times before to bring the two women intimately together, but without success. The captain's ascetic self-denial and single-mindedness had been bulwarks against her private needs. And the former Borg's emotional underdevelopment had been no less difficult a condition to overcome.

Finally, it had come to the realization that these were not women capable of responding to subtleties where romance was concerned. And here at last, on this idyllic planet, it had succeeded in its mission of supplying them with the setting they required to discover their own hearts. The rain was easy enough, but the bed--blatant in its eroticism--was the true stroke of genius.

The sentient intelligence sparkled with delight as it crackled among the droplets. Once upon a time a diminutive Ocampan female who had shared this love of rain, it was now a powerful psychic energy, brilliant with the spiritual joy of providing the gift of love to a dear friend it had once called her captain.

The End