Paramount owns it, blah blah blah. Bleh.

Warning: Rated NC-17 for graphic descriptions of things your parents never told you about. And D/7 for obvious reasons.

Author’s note: Okay, it’s just PWP, with just too much talking beforehand! And I couldn’t resist the urge to poke a little fun at the coolly rigid Seven, but it’s all in good fun. If anyone needs to get laid, it’s her. Essentially a light diversion. Enjoy!

But I Don’t Have Quarters and You Live In The Cargo Bay I:

Curiosity

By Drakkenfyre

“And how is my favorite pupil doing today?” the Doctor cheerfully asked, stepping out from behind his desk.

“I am your only pupil,” Seven replied while entering the office with a PADD in her outstretched hand. She stood in front of the desk, unmoving, until the Doctor to took the gray slab from her.

“Touché.”

“I still do not understand the purpose of this assignment,” Seven stated plainly.

The Doctor frowned disapprovingly. “Seven, it’s a classic of Earth literature.”

“That could be assimilated while I regenerated.”

Patronizingly, the doctor shook his head. “Seven, you need to broaden your horizons. I wanted you to experience the book, not ingest it. Did you enjoy it?”

“The process of reading is frustratingly slow.”

“Did you have time to read any of the critical analyses?”

“Yes. None of them regarded 1984 as an ‘enjoyable’ text, either.”

The Doctor tried a different approach. “But didn’t you feel for the protagonist? Weren’t you afraid a similar totalitarian régime could take hold on Earth?”

“Unlikely.”

“But possible. 1984 was so profound, because it was written in an age when various dictators vied for world domination. George Orwell was warning the world about the dangers that awaited humanity if man let down his guard. Though we have moved beyond the days of government sanctioned torture and wide-scale oppression, man still possesses the capability. There have even been rumors of clandestine organizations within Starfleet that do the Federation’s dirty work.”

“While the rumors of Section 31’s existence are true, most people are not oppressed.”

Unfazed by this revelation, he pressed on. “But they can be. We still have murder. Isn’t murder the ultimate act of oppression perpetrated by one man upon another?”

Seven acquiesced. “I see your point.”

He smiled. “Good. Andy questions?”

She hesitated.

“Seven?”

The Doctor thought he detected a hint of self-consciousness as she answered, “There is one concept which I do not fully understand.”

“Yes?”

“In the book, Big Brother strove to find medical and scientific ways to… abolish the orgasm. Why is this?”

Smiling, he said, “It was a threat to the régime. Big Brother kept the masses subdued by alienating each individual. Every bond imaginable was broken. The parent-child bond was broken when the government recruited the children as spies. The ties of friendship were destroyed along with language, adequate living conditions, free time, and trust. Marriage partners could not even be close after the rigorous brainwashing made them believe that men and women should only barely tolerate each other and that sex was an inherently distasteful act. Big Brother knew that the orgasm could form loyalties and allegiances that he could not control. If the people could band together, they would overthrow the tyrant.”

Frank and uncompromising as usual, Seven of Nine stated, “I would like to experience such a culturally significant event.”

He thought his jaw was going to crash through the deck, into the level below. Though she did not realize it, his feelings for her were more than friendly. The fact that she would simply drop such a statement in casual conversation amazed him and made him realize she had no concept of how profound an experience it really was.

“Uh, yes. You know, Seven, you certainly don’t need my permission to, um, experience the orgasm.”

“Thanks you Doctor,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. He knew she often used sarcasm when she felt defensive.

He pressed on: “You could even do so by yourself.”

She began to pace the length of the room. “I have tried,” she admitted, turning away.

So she had tried and failed, the Doctor thought. She must feel awful.

He reached out and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Describe what you did,” he said, gently.

Still facing away, she said, “I used my implants to induce a state of physiological arousal before attempting… manual manipulations.”

Only partly resisting the urge to take her into his arms and hold her until all was well, he placed his other hand on her opposite arm. “It’s not just a mechanical act,” he counseled. “You have to be physically, mentally, and emotionally invested in the experience.”

Disappointment flashed across her features. He knew he had to help her, however he could.

“Why don’t you come by sickbay after I’m finished my appointments and we’ll review some literature on the subject.”

She only nodded once before leaving.

Promptly at 19:00, the Doctor heard the characteristic swish of the sickbay doors.

“Glad you could make it, Seven,” he said without looking.

“I am ready to begin my lesson,” she said, striding into his office.

The things I could teach you, he thought, before shutting off those particular subroutines.

“What materials do you have for me to review?”

Excitedly he began, “I found many wonderful resources in the ship’s database to augment my own extensive knowledge. Start by reviewing this.” He handed her a PADD.

Half an hour later, as Seven was reading her third text, entitled Tantra for the 24^th Century, he spoke.

“Enjoying the book?”

She slowly turned the PADD sideways in her hand, until it was nearly upside-down. “These illustrations are unlikely, at best,” she said, disapprovingly.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.”

She raised an eyebrow quizzically before saying, “I do not see the relevance of the particular exercise.”

“They’re erotic, Seven. The words and pictures are supposed to put you in the mood.”

She only looked at him.

“I think you need to relax a little and allow yourself to feel these feelings,” he said. Then, after a moment’s thought, he said, “What you need is a massage.”

Soon she was lying on the Doctor’s massage table, as rigidly Borg-like as ever. She was clad only in the towels he gave her—after engaging the privacy lock, of course. Sickbay was hardly the ideal environment for most people to relax in, he thought, but I don’t have quarters and you live in the cargo bay. Instead of dwelling on this, he devoted himself to loosening her extremely tight muscles.

She was a mass of knots buried under more knots. “This is awful!” he exclaimed. “You really must come in for a massage more often.”

Thought gritted teeth she said, “I do not find this relaxing.”

The Doctor relented in his brisk rubbing of her back. “You’re right. You are here for relaxation, not medical treatment. Though I expect to see you back here in the very near future so I can treat your obviously painful condition.” His movements slowed and became more gently. “Seven,” he continued, “sometimes you just have to let go of the maelstrom of problems you occupy your thoughts with. Try it now. Just relax and think of nothing except your innermost feelings.” He picked up a hypospray. “I’m going to inject you with a substance that I believe will temporarily prevent your implants from limiting your range of emotions. Mind you, this is not a permanent solution, as the chemicals involved can be harmful and you will eventually develop a resistance to… never mind, we’ll discuss that later. How do you feel?”

“I believe I am less apprehensive of the task at hand. The prospect of suffering another injury from my implants was causing me a great deal of anxiety.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, and he genuinely felt glad that he could help his friend. He cared for her a great deal, possibly more than he should, as she had already made it clear that she did not see anyone on the ship as a suitable mate—or even just as a lover. Including him.

“Now, Seven, try to think about nothing but the sensations your body is experiencing right now.”

She turned her head to one side and frowned.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“The effect of this sensory input is strange, to say the least.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you are only in contact with my back, I can feel a tingling as far away as my feet. And my tactile senses are now greatly heightened.”

“Excellent work,” he said as he moved his hands to her slender calves, then sliding them down to tenderly rub her feet.

“And now?” he asked.

“The same effect, only now cascading from my feet upwards.”

Tentatively, he moved his hands to her calves. He noticed this produced an increase in her respiration. Emboldened, he left her calves, lightly ran his hand over the towel covering her, then drew his fingertips along her exposed skin. Up her back and down her arm they touched with a feather’s weight, until his fingers met hers.

He leaned down until his lips nearly touched her ear and whispered, “Do you enjoy these sensations? Don’t be afraid if you do.”

“Yes—yes I do. Please continue.”

At that, both hands ran up her arms to stop where her shoulders became her neck. He longed to dip his head to taste the creamy skin of her neck, but he knew he must not—yet. So his fingers tentatively crept up her neck until they grasped the pins that held her hair captive. He drew them out and put them aside, then ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. A slight flush began to form on her skin and he could feel the heat her body released as it warmed her normally cold skin.

Moving his hands lower, he smoothed his palms over her shoulders to her ribs, his fingers brushing against her breasts as they traveled. Seven gasped, but the Doctor did not pause. Instead he made his decision to go further, as far as he could, until she told him to stop.

So he continued down her sides, until he was pushing aside the only towel covering her. He didn’t remove it entirely, but just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her curves, which he touched only with his eyes as he slid his fingers under her belly. Then he slid them down past her hipbone, barely brushing the edge of her thatch of hair. Abandoning any pretense, he slid his hands under the towel and caressed her round buttocks.

In a surprisingly husky voice, Seven said, “I am beginning to understand. How do we proceed from here?”

His desire bringing out his forceful side, he said only, “Turn over.” Until he realized how he must sound to someone who had never experienced this before. He amended, “Just relax, and let me take care of you.”

As she rolled over, the towel slipped away and she suddenly tensed. He took a moment to drink in her every line and curve.

“You are beautiful, more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he said.

He then leaned in and lightly kissed her cheek, then more boldly her ear and down her neck until he reached her breast, where he placed kiss upon kiss before gently suckling her nipple. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back in pleasure. He let his hands roam of their own volition down to her thigh and up behind her back, drawing her even closer. The first, small moan escaped her lips, which he echoed. That was when he knew it was time.

Down his lips went, trailing down her stomach and over to her thigh, then finally he tentatively tasted her wetness. She gasped, but he would not stop. He ran his tongue up, then down in slow and leisurely motions, in time with her faster breaths. She reached out with one hand to grip his shoulder and with the other behind his head. He darted his tongue in and out, faster and faster, past her moans and her cries, until she arched her back and with abandon he never thought she’d reach, she cried out.

He brought her down slowly, finishing then telling her in hushed tones to not move as he carried her to a better bed. So over to the sickbay cot he carried Seven, where he gently placed her. As he was covering her with a blanket, she looked up and was about to speak, but the Doctor stopped her.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “We can talk in the morning about this important step in your development. For now, just go to sleep.”

Wrapped tightly in her blanket and closing her eyes, she soon obliged him.

As he stared down at her, he brushed a stray lock away from her eyes and said, “I hope you understand, now, both what this means and what is says about how I feel about you. Sleep well, beloved.”

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