I've been thinking about doing a sort of USS Voyager:Retirement Starship fic for a while now. I think I wrote a chapter of it in a notebook somewhere, but that's as far as I got. This is a standalone, or it might be an episode of that fic, if I ever get around to writing it.
Bleh. I don't know.
Geriatric sex? HELLS YES!
She crept slowly, agonizingly across the carpeted surface, her eyes trained fiercely on the couch several feet away. Her fingers gripped the cool metal handle of the cane, and her brow furrowed, sweat creeping over her cheeks and dripping off of her chin, as she thrust her foot out determinedly.
The pain shot up her spine and gnawed at her shoulders, and rabid sparks of agony shot down her arms and multiplied in her fingers. Her whole body ached, pulsing in rhythm with her hectic heart beat, and she swore she could feel each molecule of the blood as it coursed through her veins.
Just one more.
"Hon? Seven?" asked Janeway, looking up from behind the padd she was reading, seated in the chair adjacent to Seven's destination.
She stilled her momentum, not allowing herself the joy of feeing cool, sweet air entering her lungs.
"Yes?" she gasped.
"I forgot my coffee on the table. Think you could get it for me?" Janeway said, her voice infuriatingly perky.
Somehow Seven managed to tighten her grip.
"No." she growled.
"Okay dear," she sighed and stood, "I'll just nip on over and get it myself."
The older woman strode happily to the kitchen and grabbed the stainless steel mug. Taking a gulp, she made her way back, finding time to slap the perfectly round, muscled derrière of her unappreciative spouse.
"I told you those things would come to haunt you."
Seven bit back her comment, and completed the agonizing journey by flopping down on the couch, her enormous chest heaving in exhaustion. She closed her eyes for a moment, and upon opening them, was greeted with the very appreciative gaze from her wife of 50 years.
Her face was still tight and youthful, but graced with the lines far too many years of stressful work. The familiar auburn was replaced with snowy white, and pulled back into a loose bun, but for all that she had aged, her eyes remained bright and jubilant, as full of a lust for life as the day she had met her.
Janeway smiled sweetly and bent to brush her lips against Seven's. She leaned in closer, placing her lips against the other woman's ear, tickling the delicate cartilage in a way that made Seven twitch, and whispered:
Her small hands reached up and grasped Seven's breasts, squeezing the full orbs gently.
Seven merely rolled her eyes, as she had done countless times in all of these years.