Title:  Seven Swims
Author:  Sasscat Bu-to-y
Series:  Voyager
Rating:  hmm... very strong PG-13 fer adult stuff
Codes:  P/7
Part:  1/1

Summary:  Tom teaches Seven swimming.

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns them; I just scribble.

Sorry for the unimaginative title...

Inspired by a challenge for a short story written on the Net using only
spellcheck, about swimming.


Seven Swims
     (c) Sasscat Bu-to-y 1999

"You have got to be *kidding*."  Tom stared at Seven in amazement.  "You
don't know how to swim?"

"That is correct."  She looked miffed.  He didn't care.  This was too
good.

"Let me get this right.  You.  Seven of Nine.  The woman holding the
collected knowledge of the *Borg* inside her head - you don't know how
to *swim*?"  He laughed, he couldn't help it.  It was just so... so
unexpected, so ludicrous.  How could Seven not know how to swim?

"I do not possess *all* the Borg's knowledge," she corrected stiffly.
She folded her bare arms over the blue swimsuit he'd persuaded her to
wear.  Folding her arms was a habit she'd picked up and refused to put
down.  "And the Collective did not retain all knowledge it assimilated;
only that which would be of use."

"They didn't think swimming would be useful?  What happens if a drone
falls in the water?"

Seven regarded him with that I-am-Borg-you-are-strange expression she
was so fond of.  "It would not."

"Fine."  Tom spread his arms placatingly.  "Fine.  I'll teach you."

Seven quirked her lips sceptically.  "*You* will teach *me*."

Okay, so that wasn't something that happened very often.  She didn't
have to rub his nose in it.  "Yah.  I know how, you don't.  I'll teach
you."

She unfolded her arms and clasped her hands behind her back, effectively
pushing her chest towards him.  Tom sucked in a breath, doing his best
to maintain an expression of composed good humour.  Damn, blue suited
her.  "Very well," she stated.  "How do I proceed?"

"Um...  Lesson one: get in the water."  He stepped aside to let her walk
past him, taking the opportunity to get a good look from both sides.
Yep, blue definitely suited her.  Blue swimsuits suited her.  He had the
feeling a potato sack would suit her.

"It's cold," Seven complained flatly.  She'd walked in just far enough
to let the water reach her breasts, so that they floated slightly.  Tom
wondered, not for the first time, how many of the things she did were
deliberate.  No one could be so completely ignorant of the effect they
were having on him.  And she was definitely having an effect.  Tom
decided it would be a good idea to get in the water now.

"Of course it's cold; it's supposed to be cold."  He took pity on her as
he discovered she was right, and lifted his head.  "Computer, raise
water temperature by five degrees."

That was better.  He reached Seven and gently held her waist.  "Lesson
two: floating.  Take your feet off the bottom...  Trust me, I'm not
going to let you drown.  Just relax, and feel yourself float on the
water.  Good," he encouraged as she let him support her weight.  "Okay,
now I'm going to take my hands away...  Don't move, don't stiffen up;
just feel yourself floating.  See?  It's not that hard."

Seven regarded the sky impatiently.  "I have mastered this level.  Teach
me to swim."

Tom arched an eyebrow at her, though she couldn't see him.  "Mastered
this level, have you?"  He leaned in to kiss her, tasting salt on her
lips.  He stopped her from sinking too far when she tried to kiss back.
"When you can float without being distracted, that's when you've
mastered this level."  He grazed his lips over her collarbone, licking
at the salt.  Mmm, good.  He held Seven up when she overcompensated -
trying not to turn towards him - and started to sink again.

"Not as easy as you thought, is it?" he murmured.  Her close proximity
and the warmth of the water were doing terrible things to his body.  Not
to mention the wet swimsuit, clinging to her chest as she floated,
outlining her hardened nipples right in front of his nose.  This was so
not fair.

"It is... challenging," Seven admitted, casting her eyes towards him.
Her pupils were dilated and Paris grinned, comforted to know he was
having some kind of effect on her, as well.  It was so difficult to
tell, sometimes.

"Okay, let's try the next lesson: kicking.  Stand up, and watch me."  He
waited until her feet were firmly on the bottom, then moved onto his
back and started kicking, leaving his arms by his sides.  He swam this
way in a vague circle, ending up back by Seven.  "Did you see how I did
that?" he asked, putting his feet back onto the sand.

"Yes.  It did not look difficult," she added, tilting her head in
question.  Tom shook his own head.

"It's harder than it looks, Seven.  We'll try it together.  You kick,
like I showed you - try not to splash too much - and I'll keep you
floating."  He helped her back to a floating position, gently took her
shoulders, and aligned himself with her.  "Kick," he murmured in her
ear.  She complied, and he realised immediately that holding her this
close was a bad idea.  Especially when her hips were moving - like
*that* - and rubbing against him - *there* - and her breasts were so
close he was practically breathing on them.

"Is my performance satisfactory?" Seven inquired, and Tom groaned at the
double meaning he read into that.  Freud would have a field day.

"Sure," he managed.  It must have been the devil or Freud's ghost that
made him add, "Your performance is always satisfactory."

He could see her arch her eyebrow at that, but by now she'd learned
better than to turn her head while she was floating.  Tom had a sudden
image of her implants rusting, and smiled into her neck.  "I'm turning
us around now," he explained as he did just that, steering her back
towards the beach.

They kicked in silence for a few minutes, then Tom felt sand grind
beneath him as they hit the shallows.  He pulled himself out from under
Seven and guided her a little further out of the water, until it lapped
comfortably at their bodies without threatening to submerge them when
Tom made her lie down.

"What lesson is this?" Seven asked with a hint of impatience.

Tom laughed slightly, pulling her to nestle into him.  "This is lesson
'Tom is finding these lessons extremely distracting so we're going to
rest for a bit'."

She rolled over in his embrace, studying him.  "I see."  She looked
amused.  "You wish a reprieve from my... distractions."

Uh oh.  Tom knew that tone of voice.  "Something like that," he said
cautiously.

"Then you would not wish me to move my leg... here..." she slid it
between his own, rubbing it innocently against his crotch.  Tom swore he
could feel the temperature rise.  "Or to place my hand here..."  She
moved it to his hip, slipping it under the waistband of his swimming
gear.  "Or to do this..."  She took one of his nipples into her mouth,
no doubt savouring the salty taste, and managed to rub her whole body
against him as she manoeuvred into a comfortable position.

Tom nearly choked on his tongue as the hand inside his bathing suit
started exploring.  Seven was lapping at his throat in much the same way
as the waves were lapping at his waist, and he was beginning to feel
distinctly flushed.  "Seven... I'm supposed to be... teaching you to
swim," he groaned.

"Swimming is dull.  I like this better," she murmured matter-of-factly.
Tom had to admit, he liked this better, too.  Her hand was moving
quite... efficiently, and she was rubbing her hips against his thigh.

Swimming lessons had never been so good.

_The End_