Then again, this wasn't just Seven. This was also a woman who'd just made love for the first time in her life, a very important step, whether she realized it or not. Normal expectations didn't apply, really.
'...the first time...A virgin.' Tom idly ran his fingers over her spine - a very human one at that, save the odd implant or two. He'd been with a few virgins in his time, being the Starfleet Academy hotshot and an Admiral's son to boot. There was something special about being a woman's first lover. He splayed his fingers against Seven's back, running his hand back and forth across her body, memorizing the feel of her. She seemed to purr and lean into his touch and he sighed a deep sigh of resolution. Despite his guilt and remorse over how it would effect B'Elanna, he could not deny the fact that he was happy to have been Seven's first.
Seven nuzzled a bit closer to him and Tom felt himself fighting a grin, despite himself. He'd never imagined Seven 'nuzzling'. He wondered why it didn't surprise him that he found the sensation infinitely pleasing. "Your apology is accepted, Tom," she said, and lost in thought, he forgot for a moment what she was referring to. She continued, subtly correcting him: "You are excused for not having been 'more gentle' during the consecutive times we made love last night." Tom laughed. 'Leave it to Seven...' Off-handedly he placed a light, affectionate kiss on her forehead, serious again. "Thank you, Seven. But I really an sorry you know." '...for our timing, for how really weird this all seems, for how I just can't seem to shake the urge to take you another few 'consecutive' times right now...' Out loud he siad, "I shouldn't have pushed you so far. Your first time..." he let his words just sort of sit there as Seven's hand had returned to his thigh, making it hard to follow his previous train of thought.
He looked down at her, breathing in deeply. He could just imagine the clinical, calculating Borg mind at work in that beautiful, brilliant head of hers - taking in his doubtlessly dilated pupils, his accelerated heart rate, erratic breathing...ticking off the signs of his arousal like items on a checklist. The look in Seven's eyes was far from clinical and calculating, however.
"I have read in my studies that various cultures consider the combination of slight physical discomfort with extreme physical pleasure to be an ideal pairing of sensations during the course of copulation," she was saying. Somehow, Tom heard her through the blood rushing to his braion. Her hand was growing ever closer to his erection.
Tom tried to keep up with the conversation. "Uh...you have, huh?" His voice was low, strained. Seven was nipping at his throat. 'Kahless, if this is what you can learn from a database I have seriously misspent my youth. I could have been in the library throughout my formative years instead of chasing pretty young girls into abandoned classrooms.'
"Yes, I myself found the pairing to be quite...effective."
Now she was fondling his balls with a deftness that wasn't the least bit virginal or Borg. Tom's voice - and his ability to breathe in a nice, normal pattern- abruptly vanished.
She continued: "However, I and finding that the physical discomfort has continued despite the fact that the act of copulation has ceased. If your intention in 'cleaning me up' was to ease that discomfort, Tom, I must inform you that you were unsuccessful in your mission." Her words brought back part of Tom's sanity and tugged at his already guilty conscience. His eyes opened quickly and he looked down at her, remorse in his features.
"Oh, SEven, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...Here, let me get you another..." But she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "The logical course of action - having been unsuccessful in your attempts to ease my discomfort would be, presumably, to try again." She looked up into his eyes...and at that moment took his erection fully into the palm of her hand. Tom gasped. "And, logically, as your past attempts at doing so were unsuccessful, it would be wise to employ a ...different method in any future attempts at acheiving your goal." Seven gazed at him, unwavering; her meaning of 'different method' unmistakeable and revealing as her eyes told Tom that the 'discomfort' of which she spoke was not the same as the one he had been thinking. Tom was suddenly, helplessly frozen beneath her calm, blue gaze and the caresses of her small, smooth hand as she slowly stroked his hardened member. 'If this is assimilation,' he thought to himself, 'Then, Seven, you are certainly more successul in your endeavors than I.' He could almost swear there were electrical impulses shooting from her long, slender fingers through his erection and on throughout his entire body. And the resulting shockwaves had him utterly immobilized.
Tom continued to look into Seven's eyes and heard her say, "Am I not correct, Lieutenant?" And Tom thought to himself, 'Of course it is.' How could she not be right; how could this not be right - when nothing had ever felt so much further from wrong in his entire life? Tom had done the wrong thing many times in his life, and often with the wrong woman. But every time he had he had known, absolutely, from the moment he even contemplated his actions that what he was going to do was wrong. And now, sonehow, even though he knew there were reasons - so many reasons - why doing this with Seven fell under the category of 'wrong', some naturally in-born instinct told him that it was right. Having learned to trust those well-hones instincts, and having recognized his own helplessness to do otherwise, Tom continued to gaze at Seven, who still awaited his answer...and nodded.