She's drunk.

For a moment that's the only thing your Borg-enhanced brain can think. But her eyes are wide and so blue, and she looks just so cute, even though before now you never understood the word.

"Dance with me," she says again, tugging on your hand.

You turn your head and shoot a helpless look at Harry, who you had been discussing quantum mechanics with, but he's been joined by Tom and B'Elanna and they've all got silly grins plastered over their faces. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but don't quite stifle your sigh.

"Yes, Captain," you concede.

"Kathryn," she corrects, shooting you a look that makes your stomach lurch pleasantly. "Call me Kathryn, not Captain."

"Yes, Captain," you reply automatically. She laughs and you smile.

It's only when she takes your other hand in hers as well and places both hands on her hips that you realize you're in the middle of the dance floor with her. You almost frown, wondering how you could not have noticed. Then she drapes her forearms over your shoulders and her fingers are in your hair, pulling it down, and you don't think about that anymore.

The music is loud and pulsing, and you take a moment to look around. The "aliens du jour," as Tom calls them, are dancing to their native music with a fluid grace that you could never hope to achieve. In fact, their style of dance doesn't seem to fit the music, even you can see that, but then you feel her sway her hips against yours and you gasp, and look down at her with wide eyes.

"C-captain," you stutter, "this is not how you dance to this music!"

She gives you a lazy smile and gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes. "This is how I dance to this music, Seven."

You start to panic, because you can feel your skin prickle and a heaviness settles deep inside you, and you're not Borg enough to not know what it means.

"Captain, I must go!" you exclaim, trying to think of a million excuses, but your brain isn't working, and you can't even think of one.

"No," she says simply, and you're horrified. "You said you'd dance with me," she explains, then gives you a look that makes the heaviness turn to fire. "You're a good dancer, Seven."

It's only then that you realize that your hips are swaying against hers in a counter rhythm, and your hands have slid further down her hips, your fingertips brushing her backside. You try to pull away, but she doesn't let you, and you wonder, irritated, where your enhanced strength went.

But her hips are moving against you firmer, and you think that nothing in all the universes could make you leave her arms now, even though just seconds ago you were trying yourself.

The beat of the music speeds up, the aliens around you slowing down, but her hips move faster, and you find yourself circling your own hips, rather than the soft thrusting you had been doing. She picks up on your change, and counters your movements accordingly, and your pelvis brushes against hers almost constantly.

You feel her fingers slide from the back of your neck into your hair, and she pulls your head down. Your mind seems to bounce around in every direction, and all you can think is, she's going to kiss me, but she doesn't. She simply stares directly into your eyes, and you see her desire and her lust, and dare you say it? You see her love.

Your own hands move, pull her even closer to you, and one hand is just above her rear, and your pinky and ring fingers are raised, resting just on the swell of buttocks. Your other hand is higher, just above the small of her back.

She pulls your head down again, her lips brush your earlobe and you shiver. Her voice is low as she whispers, "You dance like sex."

You lose your breath, and close your eyes, and your head drops to her shoulder. You finally inhale, and your head swims, because she smells so good, like the raspberry and vanilla shampoo you started to use, just because she does, and that perfume that you could never identify, but now you realize it's not perfume, it's just her. So you inhale again, and suddenly temptation is too much, because your lips are touching her neck, and she moans, and the sound makes you kiss her again.

Then the song finally ends and the silence is deafening, but she has your hand in hers again, and she's leading you away from all the people. And you're in her quarters, but it's her bedroom, and all you can do is stare at the bed.

Her voice is unsure when she asks you if this is what you want, and you trip over your words when you tell her yes. Then she smiles at you, and the room is suddenly brighter, but how, because she didn't turn the lights on?

She reaches up and undoes the button on her shoulder, and her dress has magically been reduced to a puddle around her feet, and she's naked, and not even Omega was this beautiful. All you can do is stare at her, and she's blushing when she asks you to take off your clothes. You reach behind your neck for the clasp, and when you undo it, the suit loosens, and you let it slide from your body to the floor.

Her eyes are wide, and she tells you that you're beautiful, and you're suddenly afraid. If you're beautiful, with all your implants and scars from the Borg, then she must be perfection, and you never really knew what to do with perfection, anyway.

You tell her that, and she just smiles, but you see acceptance in her gaze, and you know that it doesn't matter, that she thinks you're beautiful and that's all she cares about.

She steps closer to you, and her breasts brush yours and you gasp, but she captures the sound with her lips.

Then everything moves so quickly, because you're on your back and you're on her bed, and then you feel so good, because she's between your legs and her mouth is on you, and you never imagined anything could feel like this. Your hips are moving again, dancing like sex against her, and the heaviness is back, and you feel tight; you feel too tight for your body, then you suddenly explode and you whimper, but you don't hear it, because all you know is her mouth against you, and the white around you.

Then the room comes back, and she's above you, and so desperate, and she wants you so badly. Your hands are on her hips again, and she's dancing against the air, and she looks so beautiful in her desperation, in her need, and you don't move.

But she begs, and her voice is hoarse, so you move one hand between her thighs and then she arches, and you gasp, because she's so wet and soft, like water silk from Teryn IV, and you know that you want to see her wrapped in it, because then she'd be wrapped in sex, and you like that idea.

Her moan pulls you back to the present and your breath is taken away as you watch her dance against your hand, and it's the most amazing thing you ever saw. Then she starts making sounds in the back of her throat, and she's getting louder, and her dance has picked up speed, and you know she'll explode at any second.

And you let her dance on her own, and when the explosion comes, she arches again, and her head falls back, she's shaking and screaming and all you can do it watch, because she's Omega and she's perfection, and she's water silk tight around your fingers.

Then she falls, and you catch her, and she's smiling so soft, and you know, you just know, that nobody else has seen that smile before. She's tired, but you're still awake, so you hold her as she sleeps, and you watch her, and think how innocent she looks.

And when she wakes up, you're still awake and she smiles at you again. And her voice is soft and husky when she speaks, and her words make you smile.

"I take it back, you don't dance like sex. Your sex is better."

Then her hand moves to prove her point, and you don't think of anything, anymore.

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