Spare Fic on Day #26: Relevant
Cuz it's a crossover and I don't want to post it on my own journal...
Title: Relevant
Author: JoeHundredaire (joehundredaire@tthfanfic.com)
Rating: R/FR18.
Pairings: Tara Maclay/Seven of Nine
Disclaimer: Someone inside Paramount owns Seven of Nine (but don't let her hear you say that) and someone who's not me (but may be Joss Whedon) owns Buffy.
Joe's Note: Dunno what I'm smoking. I like Tara though. And believe me, you'll be wishing for more cute 'n fluffy stuff when you see what Ebs and I are cooking up for Tara next...
********************
Tara Maclay rolled her eyes as she picked up the hairbrush, turning to face her lover. “You complain about this every night, Seven,” she said. “Except the nights when I don’t try to do it. Then you whine because I’m not.”
“I do not whine,” Seven of Nine argued. “I ask you to do my hair because you are more skilled in that particular area and I prefer to have my hair stay in the bun rather than escape. The sonic shower removes all possible contamination and leaves my hair smooth and untangled. It does not require brushing.”
Moving to kneel on the bed, Tara smiled when Seven moved to sit between her legs. “The brushing is a nice peaceful, repetitive action,” she replied. “It helps me relax and I know you find it pleasurable. You make this cute purring noise sometimes.”
Seven opened her mouth, and Tara was able to mimic the predictable words. “Pleasure is irrelevant.”
“You know, that’s not what you told me last night…” Tara teased, running one finger down the bare skin behind Seven’s ear.
The blonde shivered and pressed herself back into Tara. There was a short pause, the soft sounds of the brush running through Seven’s hair the only noise in their room. “…any previous statements that you could use against me to win an argument are irrelevant?” Seven tried.
Tara blinked and took Seven’s head between her hands, tipping it back so she could stare into her brilliant blue eyes. “Was that a joke?”
The one visible eyebrow and her silvery optical implant rose as Seven’s normally controlled expression shifted into shock. “I did,” she said slowly. “I think. I did not mean to.”
“That makes it even better!” Tara praised her, leaning down to kiss Seven on the lips. “Being able to make jokes on demand is something the computer can do. Making them randomly is more human. You’re improving!”
Seven’s lips quirked upwards, which Tara interpreted to be a large smile. It had taken a while, but she was used to translating from Seven’s mannerisms and expressions into normal person actions. “Do I get the same reward as last time?” she asked, taking Tara’s hands in her own and sliding them down towards her chest.
Blushing darkly, Tara ghosted her fingers along the tops of the blonde’s silver-clad breasts. Unlike most people, there were very few times when Seven undressed and the self-cleaning and maintaining properties of her catsuits meant that showering was not one of them. “I guess,” she said softly, leaning down to plant small kisses along Seven’s jaw. “But only if you do something for me first.”
“Hmm?” Seven wondered, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side to grant Tara better access.
“I still can’t figure out how to get your damn catsuit off…”
Crewmembers walking past Lieutenant Maclay’s quarters were startled that the loud laughter that even the soundproofing in the wall panels couldn’t suppress.
Title: Relevant
Author: JoeHundredaire (joehundredaire@tthfanfic.com)
Rating: R/FR18.
Pairings: Tara Maclay/Seven of Nine
Disclaimer: Someone inside Paramount owns Seven of Nine (but don't let her hear you say that) and someone who's not me (but may be Joss Whedon) owns Buffy.
Joe's Note: Dunno what I'm smoking. I like Tara though. And believe me, you'll be wishing for more cute 'n fluffy stuff when you see what Ebs and I are cooking up for Tara next...
********************
Tara Maclay rolled her eyes as she picked up the hairbrush, turning to face her lover. “You complain about this every night, Seven,” she said. “Except the nights when I don’t try to do it. Then you whine because I’m not.”
“I do not whine,” Seven of Nine argued. “I ask you to do my hair because you are more skilled in that particular area and I prefer to have my hair stay in the bun rather than escape. The sonic shower removes all possible contamination and leaves my hair smooth and untangled. It does not require brushing.”
Moving to kneel on the bed, Tara smiled when Seven moved to sit between her legs. “The brushing is a nice peaceful, repetitive action,” she replied. “It helps me relax and I know you find it pleasurable. You make this cute purring noise sometimes.”
Seven opened her mouth, and Tara was able to mimic the predictable words. “Pleasure is irrelevant.”
“You know, that’s not what you told me last night…” Tara teased, running one finger down the bare skin behind Seven’s ear.
The blonde shivered and pressed herself back into Tara. There was a short pause, the soft sounds of the brush running through Seven’s hair the only noise in their room. “…any previous statements that you could use against me to win an argument are irrelevant?” Seven tried.
Tara blinked and took Seven’s head between her hands, tipping it back so she could stare into her brilliant blue eyes. “Was that a joke?”
The one visible eyebrow and her silvery optical implant rose as Seven’s normally controlled expression shifted into shock. “I did,” she said slowly. “I think. I did not mean to.”
“That makes it even better!” Tara praised her, leaning down to kiss Seven on the lips. “Being able to make jokes on demand is something the computer can do. Making them randomly is more human. You’re improving!”
Seven’s lips quirked upwards, which Tara interpreted to be a large smile. It had taken a while, but she was used to translating from Seven’s mannerisms and expressions into normal person actions. “Do I get the same reward as last time?” she asked, taking Tara’s hands in her own and sliding them down towards her chest.
Blushing darkly, Tara ghosted her fingers along the tops of the blonde’s silver-clad breasts. Unlike most people, there were very few times when Seven undressed and the self-cleaning and maintaining properties of her catsuits meant that showering was not one of them. “I guess,” she said softly, leaning down to plant small kisses along Seven’s jaw. “But only if you do something for me first.”
“Hmm?” Seven wondered, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side to grant Tara better access.
“I still can’t figure out how to get your damn catsuit off…”
Crewmembers walking past Lieutenant Maclay’s quarters were startled that the loud laughter that even the soundproofing in the wall panels couldn’t suppress.