Summary: What if Captain Janeway didn't put Seven's new combadge into her hand in the episode 'The Gift'? A double drabble.

A/N: A big thank you to Mrs. Singing Violin for her intensive beta work on this piece. This story is a pale imitation of one of T'Vau's wicked little stories. Go and check out the real thing.

I told her I'd consider granting her access to my whole ship when I could trust her not to try to get us all assimilated.

She stood there with that eerie green glow from the Borg alcoves glinting on those delicious sleek curves of hers.

"It will not happen again," she said.

Damn that, I'd liked meeting her in the brig. The lighting was softer and there was less chance of interruptions. When she was in the brig, she was at my mercy.

Never mind, there was always that unspoken rule for Starfleet captains to fall back on: the droit de seigneur so to speak - the right to press that first combadge wherever you damn well please.

I slapped it right on the apex of the tight, taut slope of her gorgeous left breast, and with a little wrist twist I'd picked up at the Academy, I copped an extra feel on the way out.

"If you need anything, contact me," I told her and strutted off.

Two days later, I learnt she'd called down the whole damn Collective on us. Drones were arriving on the bridge in wave after wave. Still, all things considered it was worth it.