The Four-Pips Club

    by Tenderware (

VOY J/7 NC-17

Warning: This is a sexually explicit story that explores a loving relationship between two female characters. If you are a minor or are offended by lesbianism or sex or both, then please go read something else. The story also pokes fun at fan fiction, but I include one of my own stories in the ribbing, which is all meant good-naturedly. No offense to any fan fiction writers is intended; quite the opposite in fact.

Disclaimer: The characters were created by Paramount, Kate Mulgrew, and Jeri Ryan. I'm just borrowing them to tell a tale. This is strictly a fair-use, freeware, just-for-fun kind of deal. Nothing was exchanged except a few ideas about romance, and the only compensation the author anticipates receiving is a thanks or two from readers, which is the very best kind of return on a labor of love.

Summary: Surprises are in store for Janeway when she discovers that Seven and about half the crew belong to a secret writing club featuring stories about the captain's love life.

Time frame: Circa Season Six.

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for "Night" (STV 5.1). Major spoilers for one of my fanfic stories, but since I don't mention it by name, you may be safe.

Acknowledgments: Thanks to my sister, EmptyFlask, for her wealth of knowledge about J/C stories and her suggestion regarding the conclusion.

Dedication: To the fanfic writer in all of us.

Full-story version: If this doesn't load fully on your browser, please try loading parts 1 & 2.

Part 1 of 2   ***  Part 2 of 2

["Kathryn," the young Bolian ensign whispered hoarsely. "I've dreamt of your luscious, luminescent goddess-flesh quivering in my manly arms since first we encountered the Caretaker, lo these many years ago."]

Kathryn Janeway stared open-mouthed at the padd in her hand--bemused, bothered, and undeniably bewildered by what she read. "What the hell...." she muttered to herself.

["Kathryn, pleeeaaassse," he pleaded. The feel of his floccus rubbing against the fabric of his uniform made his engorged members flutter in desperate want for this Alpha she-captain.

"Ohhhhh, Ennnnsssign," the captain hissed seductively. "Do it!"]

"That's it!" she declared. She tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"Report to my Ready Room!" she barked.

"On my way, Captain," the commander responded sharply.

Within moments, Janeway heard the chortle of her office door. "Come," she growled.

The First Officer entered and nodded a silent greeting.

"Have a seat, Chakotay."

"Problem?" he asked as he made himself comfortable.

"I should say so! I seem to have stumbled onto some sort of pornography ring on my own ship, and apparently I'm the star!"

Janeway handed Chakotay the padd and watched him read a few lines. Much to her chagrin, he looked entirely too amused.

"You think it's funny?" she asked with a hint of warning in her tone.

"Sorry Captain. I just didn't know Bolians had floccuses. I thought they were bald all over," he quipped.

"It's flocci," Janeway corrected, "and I certainly didn't call you in here to discuss Bolian body parts, bald or otherwise!" She took an exasperated breath before continuing. "That's the fifth story like that I've found so far, and all of them have me indulging in some sort of passionate exchange with everything from a Borg to a...." she lowered her voice. "To a bulkhead!"

Chakotay coughed back a laugh.

Janeway studied him, suddenly suspicious. "You don't seem surprised," she said carefully. "Do you know something about this?"

"Well, uh, actually...." he began.

"Did you write these, Chakotay? Is it some sort of prank?"

"Me? No!"

"Come on, Commander," she insisted as she grabbed the padd back and began scrolling through the list of files. "I know I saw a story featuring the two of us....Here it is!" She began reading aloud.

[The virile, dark-haired First Officer approached his restless captain. When obsidian met indigo, he could see the surrender in her eyes.]

"'When obsidian met indigo'?" Janeway repeated skeptically. "Honestly, Chakotay!"

He raised his hands in supplication. "Hey, I didn't write that, Kathryn! Believe me!"

"Well then who did?"

Chakotay took a breath, surrender evident in his eyes now. "The crew wrote those stories."

"The crew? What--you don't mean all of them, do you?"

"No, not all of them. Only about half of the crew are members."

Janeway felt the start of a headache sprout between her eyes and tendril its way across her forehead.

"Members?" she asked meekly.

"Well, uh, it's sort of an informal group, really."

"'An informal group'," she repeated sardonically. "Does this 'group' have a name?"

"The Four-Pips Club," Chakotay replied, wincing slightly.

"'The Four' what?"

"Four Pips," he answered, trying to make the response sound almost commonplace.

Janeway wasn't fooled by the tone. "I take it this is a secret society?"

"Oh, it's no secret....." Chakotay saw his mistake immediately. "Uhm, except from you," he admitted.

"Well I suppose that explains why this section of the database was encrypted."

"Yes, Kathryn," he admitted. "How did you find it, by the way?"

"I was purging some personal files and accidentally tagged someone else's data block for deletion. When I went in to check the integrity of those logs, I inadvertently caught a reference to my.....well, to my private anatomy! Needless to say, I felt compelled to investigate further," she finished off hotly. Janeway took a breath before continuing. "Chakotay, there are thousands of files in that database. How many of those stories involve me?"

The commander gulped audibly. "All of them."

"'All of them'?" she croaked.

"Uhm, yes, Captain. That's why it's called the 'Four-Pips Club'."

Janeway folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. "Let's take it from the top, shall we?"

He rubbed his tattoo, partly for comfort and partly for luck. "Well, you see, Kathryn," he began, "it all started a couple of years back when we were going through the void. As you probably remember, everyone was bored, and some of the crew were missing you."

Janeway swallowed remembering how she had indulged her own depression by hiding in her cabin. She refused to feel guilty, however, even if her willful isolation was somehow indirectly responsible for this 'Club'.

"Go on," she prompted sternly, suddenly sure that Chakotay had been studying her for a reaction.

"Well, about the fourth week into the void, a story started circulating anonymously through the crew's recreational message board. It was called 'Captain Janeway Takes a Holiday'. It, uh....well, it suggested that the reason you were keeping to yourself was because you were 'entertaining' a delegation of alien ambassadors that you had agreed to ferry across the void. A number of people thought the story was pretty funny and that sort of got the ball rolling. Within a day, other crew members, also anonymously, began posting their own explanations of what you were doing in your cabin."

"And all of these 'explanations' tended toward the ribald?" Janeway asked.

"Yes, Kathryn."

"I see. And you discovered all this exactly when?" she asked with mock casual curiosity.

"It wasn't until awhile after several of the crew had already read the story...."

"Which story?"

Chakotay lowered his eyes. "The holiday story."

"You mean you knew the first day," Janeway translated.

"Yes, Captain," he replied, eyes still downcast.

"And you didn't stop it."

"No, Captain."

"Why not?!"

Obsidian met....well, it should have been indigo, but when Chakotay reconnected with Janeway's eyes, they were leaning more toward the red part of the spectrum--a blazing, fiery red. He swallowed some courage and began cautiously laying down his defense.

"Kathryn, please try to understand. It wasn't just that the crew was bored. Morale was at an all-time low. The holodecks were working overtime as it was, and the crew needed a diversion. They also needed some kind of resolution for why you weren't around. Frankly, I was relieved that they turned to humor for both. It seemed healthy to me."

"It's obscene, Chakotay! I'm their captain. This borders on insubordination!"

"No one's doing it out of disrespect," Chakotay explained delicately. "In fact, I think they mean it as a show of affection. You know as well as I do that about half the crewmembers on a starship fall a little bit in love with their captain."

"Yes, and Starfleet teaches us to channel that adoration into loyalty and dedication. Not into adolescent sex fantasies!"

"The handbooks don't apply anymore for what we're going through, Kathryn."

The comment was said gently and without malice, but it cut Janeway to the quick, and she found she couldn't argue the point.

"Maybe 'round about the fifth year out in the middle of nowhere, loyalty does turn into fantasy," she conceded, "but it just doesn't seem right, Chakotay."

"It's just a harmless outlet."

"So what do you propose I do about it?"

"Nothing," he said, the surprise evident in his tone.

"Chakotay, I can't just pretend I don't know."

"That's exactly what you have to do." He took a breath thoughtfully. "Kathryn," he began again after a moment, "if you censure the crew for writing these stories, it's going to embarrass them and you, it's going to make them frustrated and restless again, and it'll probably make them bitter and even angry at you for denying them an activity that's been bringing them a lot of pleasure."

"You're serious," she said incredulously.

"Absolutely. Please don't underestimate how important this has been to the crew's mental health." On a hunch, he went for Janeway's tender spot to plead his case. "Even Seven of Nine has improved dramatically because of these stories."

That got her attention. "Improved?!" Janeway asked. "I'm not sure I want to know how you mean that."

Chakotay smiled at the overprotectiveness in the tone. "I mean her social skills, Kathryn."

"That's what I was afraid of," she quipped humorlessly.

He grinned. "Her platonic social skills."

Kathryn quirked her head curiously. "Has Seven written any of these stories?" she asked a bit too softly. She hated herself immediately for the obvious change in her tone, especially when Chakotay's dimples deepened.

"I don't know," he admitted. "All the stories are posted anonymously, so there's no way of telling who's doing the writing. But most of the crew read them regularly and discuss the finer points when they get together."

"Oh, God," Janeway groaned.

"It's not as bad as you think. Seven and the others seem to like the stories and have had interesting things to say about them."

"I can't imagine Seven would consider these stories an efficient use of her time, or anyone else's, for that matter."

"On the contrary, she was one of the first to comment on the benefit of these stories for the crew's morale. And she's gone on to become a very good critic, particularly on anything that isn't true to your character." He smiled a little too knowingly. "I think she considers herself an expert on you."

Janeway ignored the last comment. "Well, if they've got me wailing like a banshee at some ensign's puerile advances, I suspect most of the stories fall short of Seven's standards."

Chakotay shook his head slightly, obviously amused by something in the captain's last statement, but he didn't comment. Kathryn caught the expression and found herself inwardly resenting Chakotay for pretending to know Seven better than she did.

"What about the stories that have me paired off with a 'former Borg' that looks, acts and sounds suspiciously like Seven? You can't tell me she's not offended and embarrassed by those!" Kathryn insisted.

He shrugged. "Seven isn't exactly the shy type when it comes to 'copulation', as she puts it."

"Well what about you? Aren't you embarrassed to find yourself in some of these stories?"

Chakotay considered the question for a moment and then shook his head. "I guess I'm not the shy type either."

"Well then maybe the crew should start writing stories about you and Seven!" she blurted exasperatedly.

"Come on, Kathryn. Can you really see me and Seven together?"

He began chuckling at the notion and then laughing outright. The humor infected the captain, too, who joined in after a moment and even let out a little snort.

"OK, that idea is pretty silly," she conceded as their laughter subsided. "But can you honestly see me and Seven together?!" she rejoined.

"Is that a rhetorical question, because I do have an answer?"

"Chakotay...." Kathryn growled in mock warning.

The First Officer held his hands up again in surrender. "OK, OK. I was just asking."

Kathryn took a calming breath. "I just don't know if I can turn the other way."

"The stories aren't really about you as much as they're about the crew's image of you. You might be pleasantly surprised by how they see their captain.....assuming you intend to read any more of these stories, which you don't really have to. Just try to forget about them."

Kathryn sighed heavily, doubting she would be able to do what Chakotay recommended.


[Seven's cries and shudders and scent and wetness all combined and overwhelmed Kathryn, heightening her appetites beyond all comprehension. And this time, her hunger could not be sated with Seven's breast milk alone.]

"Oh, my," Janeway said, fanning herself lightly.

She was reading yet another Four-Pips story, probably the hundredth she'd read over the last week. She had already deciphered that the coding system--a series of mostly asterisks and slashes--referred to the romantic pairing of the story, the asterisks apparently representing pips and therefore a reference to rank. A "****/***" story, for example, meant that the story revolved around the captain and one of her commanders, usually Chakotay, although the Vulcan pon farr was such an obvious plot device for a bodice ripper (or tunic ripper, as the case may be) that it was inevitable Tuvok would figure in a few of these tales.

The story Kathryn was reading at the moment was a "****/0"--four "pips" and a zero, indicating that the story involved the captain and someone with no rank, Seven being the most popular of the non-Starfleet paramours with which the captain was paired.

The premise of this particular story of the captain and her Borg crew member was totally implausible--she and Seven get stuck on a planet with no food and Seven has to breast-feed Janeway. Preposterous! Kathryn thought. Furthermore, she didn't much care for the use of the word "suckle" in the story, which seemed to her archaic and somewhat.....well, bovine. Even so, she had to admit that she liked the touching representation of Seven. Much to her surprise, she was also beginning to enjoy the provocative direction the story had just taken.

She read on.

[.....with a groan of anticipation announcing her intent, she possessively held the younger woman's legs astride her own face and fastened her mouth hungrily onto her sex, lapping Seven's more savory juices and finding a different kind of sustenance there.]

"God!" Kathryn exclaimed, wiping the moisture that dotted her brow and shifting in her seat against another kind of moisture, both counterpoints to her suddenly dry lips. She licked them involuntarily as she continued reading.

[Seven opened herself completely to Kathryn's appetite amazed at how thoroughly it was satisfying her own hunger for an intimate kind of touch she had never known existed nor could have guessed how much she wanted. She thought, too, that she had become familiar with all of the nuances of Kathryn's mouth, with all of its shapes and gestures and tempos. But Kathryn sucking her nipples had a very different kind of feel to it from the lapping and suction and nips she felt acutely now in and around the ultra-sensitive area between her legs.]


Janeway fumbled the padd and sent it thumping against the carpeted deck of her living room as she reacted to the sudden shriek of her door chime.

"Come," she croaked weakly as she reached down to retrieve the padd. She could hear the door whisk open and shut, and then she caught sight of an elegantly booted foot that she immediately recognized as belonging to Seven of Nine. The unexpected appearance of the lovely young woman she'd been reading salacious things about unnerved the typically composed captain, as if she'd been caught drooling over dirty pictures of the Borg. As a result of the surprise visit, she lost her balance in her effort to retrieve the padd. And then, startled for the third time in less than a minute, Janeway gave a little yelp as she felt here butt cheeks sliding irrevocably off the edge of her chair, landing with an audible thump next to the errant padd on the floor.

"Captain!" Seven called with evident alarm. Within a blink of her luscious lash, she was next to the fallen woman and fussing over her like a maiden aunt. "Are you hurt? Shall I call the Doctor?"

"I'm fine, Seven," Janeway mumbled.

"But you fell impressively," the young woman persisted as she helped the captain to her feet. "I'm sure you've contused your gluteal area."

"Really, Seven, the only thing I've 'contused' is my ego," Janeway admitted, still flushing.

"Very well, Captain, if you are certain you are undamaged."

"I'm certain," she assured, unaccountably warmed by Seven's concern, which helped take the edge off her embarrassment. "What brings you here this time of night, Seven?"

"In my routine diagnostics of the Astrometrics computers this afternoon, I discovered a .0027 variance in the navigational subroutines that invalidate all the projections in my weekly departmental report. I recalibrated the computers to correct the error and just finished recalculating the projections you requested. Here is the corrected report."

"For a .0027 variance? That hardly warrants redoing your entire report."

"But it was inaccurate, Captain," Seven protested.

"The variance is within acceptable limits. Aren't there other activities you'd rather be doing when you're off-duty, Seven," Kathryn asked, suddenly curious about the young woman's involvement in the Four-Pips Club. "For example, when I'm off-duty, I like to relax by reading. Do you like to read?"

Kathryn had to bite back a triumphant grin when she spotted Seven's subtle twitch at the question.

"Yes, Captain. I do read on occasion."

Kathryn licked her lips in anticipation. "What sorts of things do you like to read," she asked in feigned innocence.

Seven swallowed apprehensively and blinked once before answering. "Research materials regarding social relationships," Seven answered, temporizing....or euphemizing. Kathryn wasn't sure which.

"Such as?" she pressed.

The young woman bit her lip. "Psycho-somatic studies on humanoid sexuality (homo sapiens and xeno-bio)....anthropological analyses of the mating rituals of various Alpha- and Beta-quadrant how-to's...."

Now it was Kathryn's turn to twitch. "I see a pattern in your reading choices," she quipped more light-heartedly than she actually felt.

"These research materials serve to improve my social skills, a project I undertook at your insistence." Seven's voice softened perceptively as she explained further. "I admit that I initially resisted your request, but I have come to learn that being more human is...desirable."

"Oh, Seven," Kathryn called warmly, "you're already more human than most people I know."

The young woman smiled, pleased by the sentiment....even if she didn't feel it was entirely accurate.


The day after the encounter with Seven, Kathryn discovered an intriguing set of tales by a crewmember using the alias "AH!" At first, she considered the use of the expletive as a pen name a little boastful; but after the first story, she thought it understated. By the fifth story, she was a fan, unabashedly uttering ooo's and ah's and several other sounds in-between in noisy reaction to the emotions the stories elicited from her.

Although all of AH!'s stories were sexually explicit and oftentimes quite inventive, they were also complex romances depicting either a first-time affair or an on-going relationship in installments of a much longer series. In fact, what intrigued Kathryn was that the graphic sex seldom seemed gratuitous because it was so filled with emotional resonance. The physicality was finely balanced by moments of compassion and friendship, subtle insights, and an often gripping poignancy as if what mattered to the author most was finding new ways to describe her feelings for her captain. She guessed from the depth of emotion displayed in the stories that whoever penned them might possibly have genuine feelings for her. Normally, Kathryn wouldn't have given the matter much thought. As Chakotay had noted several days earlier, it was common for members of a crew to develop crushes on their captain. But in this instance, she was drawn into those sentiments from the perspective of the person feeling them, and she knew they ran deeper than a mere crush.

What made the situation even more poignant was the almost crippling sense of inadequacy the author conveyed through her protagonist, usually called "Anne." She was always described the same way: as a "young, inexperienced ensign with very plain features" who always marveled that someone of the captain's stature would even notice her, let alone come to love her. Obviously this was someone with very low self-esteem, possibly not very attractive by her own culture's standards.

Kathryn wracked her brain trying to think who that might be, but she admitted to herself that although she knew all the members of her crew well enough to call them by name, she truly knew very few of them, spending most of her off-duty hours with her command crew. But as she sat in her quarters now, rereading a favorite passage from one of AH!'s stories, her compassion for the person behind the words smothered her heart and made fresh tears course down her cheeks.

[With the intruder subdued, Captain Janeway turned her attention again to the trembling body she held in her arms. Discerning the wince of pain that briefly animated the young woman's plain features, the captain pulled back a little from the pressure she was applying to the seeping chest wound. She then winced herself, dismayed that she couldn't remember the name of the crewmember who had just saved her life.

"Why did you do that, Ensign? Why did you step into the line of fire?" she asked softly.

"I....I couldn't let you get hurt," she explained haltingly.

"Why? Because I'm the captain?" Janeway asked, genuinely perplexed.

The young woman seemed to panic as she considered how to answer. Then she grimaced as another spasm of pain seized her.

"Tuvok! Where are those transporters?" Janeway called.

"One moment more, Captain."

Janeway swept a platinum strand of hair off the ensign's forehead. The unintentional caress seemed to soothe her. "Hold on," the captain whispered tenderly.

The young woman gripped Janeway's hand and brought it to her lips, looking up at her as tears welled in her eyes.

The tears seemed oddly joyful to the captain, who frowned curiously at the reaction as transporter sparkles filled the air.]

Kathryn took a deep, shuddering breath and swiped at the wet spots on her face. Then she smirked at herself for getting so emotional. Self-sacrifice was not uncommon for Starfleet officers, but she had always experienced that from her own perspective, as someone ready to commit herself, life and limb, for the sake of others. She was unprepared, however, for the experience of being the object of someone else's dedication and sacrifice, and someone, moreover, who wanted nothing more in return than just to be noticed and treated with a little tenderness. Her compassion made her want to reach out to the person behind the words: to find her and hold her. To tell her, "I see you."

Kathryn started to reach up for her combadge, intending to contact Chakotay for more information about the members of the club, and then she quickly brought her hand back down. "What am I doing?" she asked herself. "He'll think I'm nuts! After he laughs in my face for letting myself get so affected by a piece of fiction!" She huffed in self-disgust. "Get a grip, Kathryn."

She stood abruptly and began prowling her living area, thinking fiercely. She considered that she should perhaps give up this new pastime. No matter what Chakotay said, the stories really were, in a sense, about her, and that made them too personal, too close-to-home for her to avoid getting drawn into them. Actually, she could ignore most of the more puerile ones. They were just too silly to be taken seriously. But AH!'s stories were different. There had to be a way of discovering who she was.

Kathryn rushed over to her workstation and brought up the encrypted database. Keying in a few commands, she began the arduous task of studying the access codes and directory tree structure, looking for some way to trace a story to its source.


Over the course of the next several weeks, Kathryn became even more enthralled with AH!'s stories. In addition to the love and devotion the author evinced for her captain through her protagonist, the stories also managed to convey a profound understanding of Kathryn's true sensibilities regarding her station and her lot. While most of the other Four-Pip writers painted the captain as some sort of sex-starved dominatrix, AH! depicted her as a complex figure, both strong and vulnerable in her loneliness, singularly devoted to ship and crew but desperately craving an impossible closeness with someone. It was that sense of loneliness that always drew Kathryn and Anne together in AH!'s tales, and Kathryn, the real Kathryn, felt that pull acutely now through the medium of these stories. There was an emotional connection there, and it made her increasingly desperate to discover the identity of the person who knew Kathryn apparently better than anyone ever had.

Despite her considerable code-breaking acumen, however--not to mention the benefit of her command codes for overriding most of the ship's security systems--Kathryn was no closer to discovering who AH! was than when she started this personal project. Feeling weary after another stab at the database access logs, she rubbed her tired eyes and ambled over to her replicator.

"Coffee. Black. Double strength," she sighed.

She blew the steam off the top of the cup and inhaled the aroma, beginning to feel rejuvenated even before her first swallow. Then she blew again to cool the liquid down a bit and took a sip, smiling to herself as she remembered a conversation she once had with Seven.

"Captain," the young woman had begun, "is your replicator malfunctioning?"

"Not today, Seven. Why do you ask?"

"Because the unit is capable of preparing beverages to your precise specifications, but evidently the coffee you just ordered is too hot for you to ingest."

"I like it like that," Kathryn had responded.

Seven had frowned looking adorably confused, making Kathryn laugh outright, as she did again now, remembering. Then taking pity on the young woman, she had explained.

"It's part of the ritual, Seven. There's something about having to blow on it first, letting the steam rise up and blast your face with that rich, full-bodied aroma. It just tastes better that way."

Kathryn smiled and then let the warm memory fade as she returned to the task at hand. She began pacing again to work out the kinks and frustrations of several more hours of fruitless desk work. She strummed her fingers against her stout chin, setting her scientific mind to work on the problem and feeling her body bristle with coffee-fortified determination, Irish-bred stubbornness, midwest-cultivated tenacity, and a healthy dose of Starfleet-trained discipline to boot. She smiled again at her own cockiness and began to take another sip from her cup. Then she stopped abruptly.

"Coffee," she said aloud. There was something about coffee niggling at her memory. Something from the stories.

"Computer," she called, "list all story titles in the Four-Pips database in which the terms 'coffee' and 'captain', 'Kathryn', or 'Janeway' appear within twenty-five words of each other."

The computer chirped and then began reciting its response. "'A is for Abstinence', 'Affairs in a Void', 'Alien Adventures', 'An Alpha Captain in Every Quadrant'....."

"Computer, abort!" Janeway interrupted. She took a breath. "Exactly how much of the database fits the parameters of my query?"

"92.8 percent."

"Hmm! I guess my appreciation for coffee is well remarked." She smirked, thinking. "Computer, what percentage of AH!'s stories meet those parameters?"

"100 percent."

"Well now honestly!" Kathryn huffed, feeling a bit too predictable as she set her coffee cup down on her desk rather forcefully. "All right, let's think about this....Computer, query same database for the same author, change the range to within ten lines of text, and add the search terms 'hot' and 'aroma'. How many passages meet those parameters?"

"Two segments from two different entries by AH! satisfy the query requirements."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Janeway announced, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. "Recite the first search result."

["Without even being asked, Anne handed her a mug of hot coffee. Captain Janeway smiled in satisfaction at the robust aroma, pleasantly surprised that the ensign had anticipated her next request."]

"Oh, yes," Kathryn nodded, musing to herself. "That was from the third of her stories I read. I guess that's what I was remembering." She tried to shrug off her unease as she leaned against her desk dejectedly, not sure of what more she was expecting but aware that she was feeling mildly disappointed nonetheless.

"Computer, how does the second selection read?" she asked more for the sake of closure than curiosity.

The computer responded programmatically.

["'Well, Ensign,' the captain explained, 'for me, it's an important part of the ritual. There's something about blowing the steam off a hot cup of coffee and letting its full-bodied aroma blast you in the face that just makes it taste better."]

Kathryn gasped and felt her legs melt beneath her, suddenly finding herself in a heap on the deck. Not bothering to get up, she untangled her limbs and rested her chin on one bent knee to consider the situation further.

How was it possible? The passage from AH!'s story was almost verbatim from the conversation she had had with Seven. She frowned trying to remember whether she'd ever had a similar conversation with anyone else. Or could Seven have mentioned their conversation to someone else?


Kathryn subconsciously registered the chime of her doorbell and answered involuntarily. "Come." Then she slowly became aware of two curvaceous, plum colored legs standing in front of her. Kathryn followed the curves up and up and up to find Seven of Nine towering over her with a too-amused expression on her face.

"It's you," Kathryn whispered, realizing more in that moment than Seven was aware.

"Am I interrupting something important, Captain?" the Borg asked in exaggerated politeness.

The question brought Kathryn out of her reverie. She realized that Seven had once again found her sitting on the deck, but she refused to get embarrassed this time. Instead, she crossed her arms, stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed them at the ankles, then leaned back against her desk before responding.

"No. I was just doing a little reading."

"I see," Seven responded slowly. She turned quizzically to study the captain's undisturbed couch, lounger, and chairs, and then returned her attention to the figure sprawled out on the deck. "You appear to be doing all your reading on the floor lately, Captain. Is your furniture malfunctioning?" she asked.


"I see," Seven repeated, not really seeing.

"I'm getting a crick in my neck, Seven. If you're staying, sit down, will you?"

The young woman opened her mouth as if to say something but stopped abruptly. She turned and studied the furniture again and then studied the carpeted deck. Then she sighed and slunk resignedly to the floor.

Janeway hid her smile. "So what brings you here, Seven. More corrected Astrometrics reports?"

Seven opened her mouth again to say something and was again stymied for a response. She discerned the subtle mockery in the captain's statement, but she could tell, too, that it was intended affectionately rather than mean-spiritedly, and it was the tone of affection that took her off guard.

"Yes," she finally answered, handing over her padd without further explanation.

Janeway smiled again and accepted the padd, setting it aside for later. She then turned back to the ex-Borg and cocked her head inquisitively. She needed to know for certain if Seven was AH!

"Still working during your off-duty hours, Seven?"

"Yes, Captain," the young woman answered guilelessly, not perceiving the trap.

"Maybe you should try a more interesting hobby than reading. Have you tried writing?"

Seven's wide-eyed, nervous reaction was all the confirmation Kathryn needed.

"I've been reading something very captivating in the last few weeks," Kathryn said softly. She reached up and retrieved one of the padds from her desk, keying in her favorite story. "I'd like to share it with you." She cleared her throat and began to read.

[Personal Log: Ensign Anne Hollings

Captain Janeway spoke with me today. I don't mean that she gave me a directive or bade me a good morning. I mean she actually had a conversation with me. She spotted me in the mess hall. I had, of course, noticed her already when she entered, although I pretended to be surprised at seeing her when she approached my table. Then she asked if she could join me for breakfast. Somehow I managed a polite reply saying I'd be delighted, or something like that. In the next moment, my cerebrum stopped functioning altogether as she beamed a smile at me and sat down. I felt a little dizzy and now can remember only about half the conversation, but I think she asked me about my home, my family, my goals, as if she were genuinely interested. I must have said something funny at one point, because she started to laugh out loud and took several minutes to compose herself. I never realized laughter could sound so beautiful.]

Kathryn had spoken the last line with a hushed reverence and then let off the reading to study Seven.

The young woman was nervous, unable to meet the captain's eyes. Janeway cleared her throat.

"You realize, of course, that this story is completely implausible."

Seven looked up sharply and then lowered her eyes again, but not before Kathryn saw the pain and disappointment flash across the young woman's features.

"You mean because you could never get involved with a member of your crew....even someone who isn't in Starfleet," Seven guessed.

"No," Kathryn replied gently. "I mean it's implausible because there's no way someone could feel that strongly about me without my noticing." She paused to study Seven's response.

The young woman looked up, a glimmer of hope in her features.

"Seven," Kathryn continued gently, "I see you." She scooted closer to the young woman and cupped her face. "I notice you."

"But I'm--"

Kathryn pressed two fingers against Seven's lips to interrupt her protest. "You're breathtaking."

She looked into Seven's eyes and let the knowledge that Seven was AH! wash over her, the pieces all suddenly clicking into place. The insecurities, the innocence, the odd mix of intellectual arrogance and emotional immaturity that was uniquely Seven's: Kathryn understood now why she had felt such affection and compassion for the protagonist. She guessed that on some level, she had recognized that Anne was Seven. And yet, in one sense, the comparison was unfair. Seven was no longer emotionally immature. In crafting a character who loved with such a depth of emotion, Seven had discovered her own heart, her own humanity.

"I'm afraid," Seven whispered.


"Because I don't know if I can adequately express what I feel for you."

"You already have," Kathryn smiled.

"Is that all right?" Seven asked uncertainly.

"What? That you wrote these stories or that you love me?"

Seven's eyes grew wide at the sudden realization that she perhaps had more to worry about than she initially thought. "I suppose both," she answered.

Kathryn chuckled. "Well, I have to admit, I wasn't happy when I found out about this little writing club. Some of the stories are way out of line," she added light-heartedly, rolling her eyes. She then reconnected with Seven, and her expression became fond and serious. "But not yours, Seven. I love your stories."

Seven swallowed at the intensity of that look. "And the second part?"

Kathryn's face broke into a huge smile, but she didn't answer verbally. Instead, she placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders and pushed back gently until Seven was lying on the deck of the captain's living quarters with the small woman sprawled on top of her. Both women inhaled deeply, excited at how good this position felt. Then Kathryn focused on the full lips that had been tantalizing her for so long. She gave in to the temptation, leaning in close to Seven's face and tracing the bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

Seven gasped and then felt Kathryn's teeth gently tugging on the same lip. She became aware of a series of noises, whimpers and moans that sounded at once familiar and foreign. When she inhaled again and the noises stopped, she was surprised to realize that she had been making those sounds. Just as suddenly, she couldn't think anymore as Kathryn's mouth smothered her own in a hot and wet penetration that she felt to the very core of her being. The touch was invasive, but she didn't perceive it as an intrusion. Instead, she found the touch surprisingly pleasant. It was an intimate caress, one she cherished because it was Kathryn's mouth that was drawing out those emotions and swallowing up her moans.

Seven couldn't help smiling against Kathryn's mouth, and then she began to laugh.

Kathryn pulled back, at once bemused and amused by the young woman's reaction. "What's so funny?" she asked smiling.

"That feels good!" Seven exclaimed.

The older woman chuckled back knowingly. "Yes, it does," she purred.

Kathryn started moving in for another kiss, but Seven pressed up until they were both sitting--the older woman straddling the younger one's lap. Seven then began kissing the delicate neck at her lips as she unfastened the captain's tunic.

"Don't you think we're moving a little fast?" Kathryn complained half-heartedly.


The decisive response made the older woman chuckle. She then relented, the full lips against her own smothering any further complaints. She was amazed at how well Seven's hands played her body, strumming her ardor in a rhythm that perfectly matched the quickening beat of her heart.

The sudden coolness of her skin was her first clue that Seven had somehow managed to remove her shirt and bra. Before she had a chance to react to having her breasts exposed to the young woman's view, she felt Seven's hands cupping them from underneath. A gentle squeeze followed suit and then she felt herself arching into the delicious sensation of Seven's thumbs flicking back and forth across her suddenly stiff nipples. She opened her eyes, surprised to find Seven looking intently at her, watching her reactions. Kathryn stared back, mesmerized as much by the bold gaze as she was by the equally bold and surprisingly experienced caress.

They continued staring at each other, Kathryn swallowing hard as Seven began pinching her nipples and rolling them expertly between her thumbs and forefingers. They both looked down briefly at the point of contact as Seven pulled up harder on the nipples, squeezing more intensely until the nubs turned a deep red. When their eyes reconnected, Kathryn found herself doubly aroused by the mix of passion, confidence, and triumph that flashed across Seven's face. And when the young woman's nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, Kathryn wondered if the former Borg could also smell her arousal. She was frankly surprised at Seven's expertise.

"How do you know all the right ways to touch me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Research," Seven replied abruptly as she groped the captain's breasts with still more intensity.

"Uhm, anecdotal or first-hand," Kathryn continued, trying to sound matter of fact.

Seven cocked her head, considering her response. "Both," she finally answered. "I read numerous accounts on human sexuality, and I also engaged in experimentation."

Kathryn would have frowned at the idea that her new lover had perhaps slept with someone else, but when Seven dipped her head and began sucking noisily on the older woman's nipples, she could barely remember her own name, let alone their conversation.

Seven pressed Kathryn back down onto the deck and resettled herself over the smaller woman, hunkering down to feast leisurely on the willing bosom in front of her.

Kathryn wallowed awhile in the ecstasy of having her nipples tugged so sweetly into the rough, wet heat of Seven's hungry mouth. After a few moments, however, her thoughts finally broke through the distraction of her wonderfully over-stimulated nipples.

"Who with?" she croaked.

Seven released the left nipple with a loud pop. "Myself," she blurted just before attacking the right nipple with equal fervor.

Kathryn looked down as nearly half her breast was pulled into Seven's sexy mouth and gasped at the sight, a fresh rush of excitement soaking through the crotch of her uniform pants. "I'd like to see you practice that technique on yourself," the older woman murmured.

Seven caught the comment and laughed around the nipple in her mouth.

Kathryn arched again into the sensation and became suddenly aware of the unyielding deck beneath her. "Maybe we should move to a more comfortable spot," she suggested, thinking of her soft bed.

"Agreed," Seven said.

Kathryn was thrilled when the Borg easily lifted her in her arms, but she frowned in confusion when the young woman headed in the wrong direction. Before she knew it, she felt herself being laid out efficiently on her dining room table. She took a breath preparing to protest but was again distracted when she felt her hips being lifted and then suddenly stripped of both pants and undergarments, her bare legs falling open against the table top. Too shocked to utter a sound, she watched as Seven seated herself at the end of the table and pulled the captain's lower body toward her, an arm wrapping possessively around each thigh.

As Seven moved the captain's body into this fully receptive position, she brazenly stared at the older woman's splayed sex, unconsciously licking her lips.

Before Kathryn realized what was about to happen, she felt Seven's fingers unceremoniously spread her slippery lips apart, and then the young woman's face was pressed against her, lapping at her sex with a hungry passion that surprised them both.

"Oh, God!" Kathryn cried out.

The erotic feast was straight out of one of Seven's stories. Simply reading about that scenario had so aroused Kathryn at the time that she had been able to bring on an orgasm by stroking herself for scarcely more than a minute. Now she was actually living through that experience, and it was Seven of Nine's tongue that was intimately coaxing her sex to give up its control.

If there was any doubt that Seven was in control, the young woman quashed those doubts when she suddenly pulled back from Kathryn's sex.

The older woman groaned in frustration but was just as quickly appeased when Seven began sucking one of the folds of Kathryn's sex. The sensation surprised Janeway. She had been used to having the sensitive nub of her sex stimulated, and she had experienced the delight of penetration, the intimate stroking deep within her sex also bringing her to orgasm on a number of occasions. Seven's unhurried licks and nips, however, were making her feel stimulated in areas she had never realized would be so sensitive to a tongue's caress.

Every millimeter of her sex was treated to Seven's singular attention as the young woman spent the next two hours devouring the area between her captain's legs. Finally spent, Kathryn pushed a wet strand of hair off her sweaty forehead and begged Seven to stop. The young woman relented, lifting her flushed face up and then gently removing several fingers and a thumb from their respective burrows.

Kathryn gave a little squeak as she felt herself emptied. "Wow," she said on an exhale. "Let me catch my breath....and then we'll switch places."

Seven smiled.


Having spent the night trading techniques from Seven's stories, Janeway logged them off duty the following day. Then they cuddled together in bed, Seven spooning Kathryn's body and casually probing the small opening between the captain's cheeks. Kathryn didn't mind. She liked the intimacy of it and sensed it was more exploratory than erotic. Still, she couldn't resist the temptation to tease.

"You do realize that if I have another orgasm, I'll explode."

"Didn't you beg me earlier to turn you 'inside out'?" Seven joked back.

"When did I say that?"

"Just before you climaxed for the fifth time, when we experimented with the techniques from my twelfth story."

"Oh, yeah, Number Twelve," Kathryn said in fond memory. "Those toys were fun."

"I was impressed with your ability to put them to still more inventive uses, Kathryn," the young woman complimented

"Well it helps that your body is sensitive in so many wonderful places."

"As is yours," Seven retorted, demonstrating her comment by pushing her finger all the way into the captain's backside for an intimate tickling.

"Mmmm," Kathryn responded, enjoying the pleasant sensation.

Seven nuzzled and kissed her ear, slowing her movement again to a deep, languorous boring and then delicately removing her finger.

Kathryn reached toward her night table for a moist towlette and absently cleaned the young woman's hand. "So when's your next story," she asked out of the blue.

Seven was surprised. "You wish me to continue writing them?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I? You're a wonderful writer, Seven, and the stories are very sweet. Don't you want to continue participating in the writing club?"

"Yes, Kathryn, I do. I enjoy discussing the stories, and I appreciate hearing how much others have liked my stories, even if they don't know I'm the one who wrote them. But I....I thought that you'd want me to stop, especially now that we're together."

"Not at all, Seven. What difference could it possibly make.....other than the fact that now you'll have me to practice your techniques on," Kathryn added almost lecherously.

Seven smiled and kissed the captain's ear again, hugging her closer. "I'm pleased you feel that way Kathryn since I most certainly need help with my next story. What would you think if Kathryn and Anne did this." The young woman began whispering seductively in her captain's ear, describing in graphic detail what she had in mind for her next story.

Kathryn's eyes grew wide, and then she closed them, imagining the scene her lover just described and moaning in reaction.

"Perhaps you'd like to co-author the next story with me?"

"Writing isn't my forte, Darling. You'd have to call it a story by AH! and uhhmm!"

"Those are not your initials."

"What? Oh, Seven, do you realize I didn't see that until you said something? A.H. Annika Hansen. It was right in front of me the whole time!"

Seven laughed. "If the initials didn't give me away, then how did you finally determine it was I?"

"Something in one of your stories was straight out of a conversation you and I once had about why I like my coffee hot."

The young woman cuddled closer, smiling fondly at the memory. "Yes, I remember. I suppose I'll have to be more careful now. After all, once the crew find out about our relationship and if it also gets around that I've written those stories, they will assume quite a lot about our private lives."

"Mmm," Kathryn hummed in agreement.

"Unless, of course, you wish to keep our relationship a secret," Seven added, the uncertainty evident in her voice.

"Are you kidding? A crusty old captain like me managing to woo a beautiful young woman like you. I'd be declaring my love from the treetops....if there were any treetops in space."

Seven laughed again, as much from the joy of Kathryn's pronouncement as from her joke.

"Besides," the captain continued, "the crew will put two and two together the minute they see the same silly grin on both of our faces and realize that we were both off-duty today."

Seven reached up and felt her face realizing that she did, indeed, have a silly grin. She breathed in happily. "What do you wish to do now, Kathryn?"

"Want to do a little reading from the Four-Pips library? Some of them are very good, and even the ones with the overdone imagery are good for a laugh."

"Overdone imagery?"

"You know, stories that are self-consciously creative--exceptionally flowery prose, lots of metaphor and hyperbole, that sort of thing."

"Ah, yes. I believe many of the 4-3 stories are like that, particularly those involving Chakotay. I have wondered at times if he was perhaps contributing his own stories in that category."

Janeway laughed aloud and was soon joined by Seven when she explained that she had accused her First Officer of the same thing just a few weeks before.

After their laughter subsided, they settled down with a few padds in hand and spent the rest of their day off indulging in stories and romance and good, old-fashioned sex.



"So do you think they're finally a couple?" Paris asked his companions as they watched the captain and Seven seated together on the other side of the officer's mess hall. There was definitely something different about them. They even looked different, although the captain was in her usual command uniform and Seven wore her two-tone suit, the blue one with the grey sleeves. The hair styles were the same, too. But the expressions were softer and happier, especially when they looked at each other.

B'Elanna and Harry turned to study them. The captain was so busy gazing fondly at Seven that she accidentally spilt her coffee on the Borg's suit. Then she reached out with her napkin and gently dabbed at the young woman's bosom right there in front of everyone and completely oblivious to the fact that there was anyone else around.

"Oh, yeah," B'Elanna said. "They're definitely a couple."

Across the mess, Seven looked down at the black coffee stain splashed across her blue suit and then looked up at Kathryn, growing instantly suspicious of the mischievous glint in the captain's eyes.

"No, Kathryn. Don't you dare say it."

Kathryn smirked, obviously intending to disregard the warning as she eyed the coffee stain again.

Seven closed her eyes and groaned even before Janeway uttered the last syllable.

"Obsidian met indigo....."


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This page is from the Delta Quadrant of Venus website. The site was originally hosted on AOL's hometown pages, which AOL shut down on October 31, 2008. The DQV site was resurrected and moved to this new home on November 30, 2008 because fans asked to have it back. Thank you for your continued interest in my stories. I'm truly touched. --T'ware

Posted August 15, 2001. Updated August 25, 2001, for minor errors and to add links to segmented version of story. Updated January 2, 2002, to delete table and add logo graphic.