Dukat gently placed Kira down upon his couch in his quarters. The doctor of Empok Nor station said he had given her medication that should keep her unconscious for the next hour or two.
"You better give her a double dose to be safe," he insisted. "I know this woman. She is a fighter. There was no permanent damage, was there?"
"The blow to her spine and shoulder was pretty brutal, but nothing that couldn't be repaired. Our women are not as tough as yours, but Bajorans are more resilient than you think. Nonetheless, I can't prevent swelling and bruising from blemishing her skin for a day or two. It will go down on its own with some bed care. Place an ice compress on it for a bit."
"Her forehead is burning up! Are you certain she is alright?" Dukat asked with alarm, his hand on her brow.
"She has a slight fever, a mild reaction to the medication. It is nothing to worry about, especially if she's a fighter as you said. In fact, Master, she ought to be placed as far from you as possible in a room with a barrier. She did try to kill you and threatened you more than once."
"She threatens me and I threaten her," Dukat shrugged. "It's just the way we have always been. It's almost our way of showing our affection."
The doctor dared to look at him doubtfully and said, "I still don't understand why you brought her here in the first place."
"Frankly, it's not your place to question or understand my actions. Kira has always been a leader and not a follower when it comes to matters of faith. That is why she could be invaluable to the Wraiths."
"Or their greatest enemy."
"I am the one that gets to decide what she is!" Dukat snapped.
As he carried Kira from the medical offices, the vedek Fala Trentin tried to join him. He touched Kira's hair and looked guilty and as concerned as though he was her grandfather in truth. Dukat glared at him for touching her and clutched her close. Fala cowered immediately.
"I apologize, Master, I just wanted to know if she was safe and sound."
"Don't mistake me, Fala; I am grateful that you aided me all these years. First, you spied on the Kira family for me, and then you helped me abduct her. However, I despise insincerity and hypocrisy. Don't pretend you care for Nerys! What if I was the monster she thought I was? What if I executed her like the rest of my followers is clamoring for me to do? What if I kept her locked up or took advantage of her? What if I threw her out the airlock right now? You would be at least partially responsible. She trusted you and welcomed you. She still doesn't know about her brother Reon, does she? What really happened?"
"No. It is bad enough she knows about her mother's fate. I'd hoped to save her from at least one ghost. She's experienced enough grief and betrayal for more than one lifetime," Fala replied.
"Do you regret what you've done to her?" Dukat asked.
The vedek sighed, "I must have faith in the true gods. If they want her, I must do as they say."
For a moment Dukat's old cynicism flared and he wanted to mock this old man. It was amazing what simple and supposedly 'good' people would do in the name of their religion. These Bajorans could only blame themselves for following him and worshiping the very creatures they had seen as evil for so long. Dukat honestly didn't care if the Wraiths were good or evil. Those were silly concepts. He worshiped them for the power they had given him and promised in his future. They had also promised him Kira Nerys, the one woman he had ever truly wanted even more than her mother and Naprem. So far, they had delivered on those words. His goddess was in his arms at this very moment.
"Please, Master," Fala begged. "Let me take Nerys to my quarters. Allow me to nurse her. I understand you don't trust the others, not even the doctor. You fear they will poison her. I love this girl like my own. You can trust her with me."
"Do you not trust her with me?"
The vedek didn't dare to answer. That would require bravery, not faith. He suspected that the only reason why this Bajoran was religious was because he had nothing else. He had never had a family or wife. He wasn't cunning, bold, talented, or appealing in any way. He had been useful because faith made weak men like him obedient, meek, and eager to please. The rest of his followers were little different. Dukat walked away.
Dukat fetched a compress from the replicator. To reach Kira's wound, he realized that he would have to remove the jacket of her uniform. He peeled away the red cloth, the zipper making a satisfying sound as it revealed the white blouse he had seen Kira wear underneath it before. Her skin was a pale peach color, a little too warm, and damp with perspiration. She shivered as soon as her skin was exposed. It would take much more than a change of temperature to waken her in this drugged state, though.
He rolled her to her side and became a little frustrated. The blouse still covered most of the angry bruising. Much as he would love to peel away all her clothes, he knew he shouldn't. He didn't let a scrap of cloth stop him, tough. He ripped the back of the neckline just enough to grant him access, then clucked his tongue at the sight. The bruise had turned black and blue. He pressed his fingers to it without thinking.
As she winced and recoiled in pain and aversion even in deep sleep, Dukat sighed at the sensation of her smooth, soft skin. He just couldn't resist the skin of Bajoran women, and this was Kira's lovely flesh beneath his fingers. She was warm, and his cold-blooded, reptilian physiology demanded such heat. He felt his Cardassian drive stir, fierce and relentless. Kira was so helpless. For once, she couldn't fight back as fiercely as he knew she would. She couldn't insult him or call upon her countless allies that adored her. Not even Odo the godlike alien could stop him. They were all light years away.
You are a changed man, a voice inside him said. Those carnal thoughts are unbecoming! Love the spirit, not the flesh, Dukat! Her body is fragile and temporary. The spirit will last forever and is just as beautiful and strong. It is fiery, just like her hair.
Her hair was one of the physical features of hers he loved most and it distracted him from the higher plane and esoteric matters he should be focusing on. He had loved Meru's strawberry blonde locks, but Nerys had allowed hers to naturally darken to a rich auburn and let it grow. Gone was the boyish cut she had sported for years. It wasn't long as it had been during the Occupation either. It was the length of her chin so that it framed her face beautiful. She had taken a few strands and braided a single small braid on one side of her head. She brushed the hair on the other side carefully behind her ear in order to show off the single earring that Bajorans always wore. It was feminine and stylish, a vast improvement to the punkish pixie cut and even then, he had found her irresistible.
Stop lusting for her! He tried to remind himself. Think of her as a sister or daughter! She is Meru's child! You know how she would hate you for thinking of her Nerys in this way! She's young enough to have been yours!
If only she could be his as his daughter, sister, helper, or lover. Lover was his preferred choice, of course. He hoped he could manipulate her with her faith and make her accept him. If he couldn't have her body, he wanted to devour her soul. She seemed even less willing to give him that.
Impulsively, he kissed her bruise, right along her shoulder blade. Her long lashes fluttered, but her eyes didn't open. The bruise felt hotter than the rest of the surface of her skin, arousing him further. He should use the cold compress, but why not use his own tools? He pressed his lips against her flesh again, opened them, and utilized his tongue. She tasted salty and sweet, an addictive combination of flavors. He traced the wound, then the blade, then snaked his tongue in circles to her spine. She moaned in her sleep.
What the hell are you doing, Dukat! She most certainly would have shouted that if she were awake. She would try to snap his neck ridge and kill him for this. She would rather throw herself out the airlock than grant him satisfaction. It was also what his inner voice screamed, desperate to stop him from damning himself. But then again, what if this was what the Wraiths intended? Kira was what he had wanted so long. Wasn't he due some sort of reward? Who was he kidding? No that he had tasted her, he never wanted to stop. He couldn't even if he tried, and he had no desire to try.
He tore the flimsy fabric open a little more. He kissed the neglected shoulder blade as he rolled her flat, and then tickled it with his tongue. She gasped and muttered something. He listened closer as he stroked her spine, and then raked his nails in her skin. She spoke just clear enough that he caught what she said that time.
"Odo!"
He scowled at that name and remembered. She had taken that Changeling as her lover! First she had taken those two Bajoran men. Bareil and Shakaar he could understand, but now that passionless Founder! She was disgusted by Cardassian scales and gray pallor, but she loved the amber liquid form of those Founders? He raked his nails back up her spine, making it sting a little on purpose and leaving temporary red marks. There was no blood drawn, though. As angry and jealous as he felt, he loved that skin too much to truly break it like that.
If Kira had the chance to explain, she would have admitted to Dukat that it wasn't his body that repulsed her. There had been a few times where quite the opposite had been the case. When she felt Alled Galex's body upon hers all those years ago, she had found the scales and ridges quite tantalizing. She reveled in the smell of the pheromones of male Cardassians. She could even see herself falling in love with a Cardassian man and having hybrid children. But it couldn't be Gul Dukat's. It could be any Cardassian but him. The thing that repulsed her was that Dukat was an irredeemable cruel and callous man. He didn't care for consent.
She knew that if the Occupation was still going on, Dukat would merely have to point at Kira and declare her his mistress, his personal word for comfort woman. He would have her tied to a bed and he would take her whenever he pleased. If Starfleet or the Dominion wasn't lingering over him and watching his actions carefully, he might have done the same even on DS9 more recently. It was only a matter of time, she and Odo had agreed, before he reopened the mines and labor camps. Why wouldn't he reestablish the sanctioning of comfort women as well? He could be so charming and convincing, he might have even convinced Weyuon that it was for the greater good and had been legal once, why not again?
Dukat dug on hand into Kira's hair and massaged her scalp as he nipped her white neck. She moaned sensually again that Shifter's name. He nipped and suckled her flesh, hoping to leave his mark there. He stopped caring that the name she kept speaking wasn't his. He pretended she was simply moaning the vowel 'O'. That mental trick did wonders for him.
He rolled her onto her back. He wanted those red lips of hers. She'd never kiss him. He had come so close before, but he had always known deep down that he would have to steal those lips. He had waited so long, much too long to get what he wanted. Micah had been such a poor substitute. He'd never wanted a woman like Kira Nerys so badly nor shown such restraint and patience. It made his desire that much stronger and he couldn't resist any longer. He began to devour those lips at last.
She tasted so good! He exerted gentle pressure to touch her tongue with his own. His heart felt it would burst from his chest with joy. He never wanted her to wake up! He wanted to kiss her and fill his hands full with her breasts for an eternity! He'd have to settle for a fleeting hour!
Dukat realized that he had provoked her into an erotic dream because her breathing came out in soft pants, her eyes moving in obvious REM cycle. He became very bold and placed a hand between her legs. There was another good sign. The Wraiths were making this so easy for him! He encouraged her, rubbing her through those rust colored trousers. Her breasts rose and fell a little rapidly and he enjoyed the performance of her arousal.
But he could only watch so long. He split her blouse open and slipped his hands inside the tattered thing. He had wanted to do that every time she dared to flit about in it. The last barrier was a strapless piece of padded cloth. It was flesh colored. It was an insult. He found the hooks in the back and removed it, glad it didn't require awkwardly slipping it around her body. Then he hissed with delight at the sight of her bare breasts. He had seen her naked before thanks to the interrogation footage he had gathered during the Occupation, but he had never seen them so close or in the flesh like this.
They were moderate in size, but well-shaped and formed. Her nipples were pink and primed. She was already aroused, and the cool air made them pucker even more. They felt so sweet as he latched his teeth gently around the nearest one. As impatient as he was, he didn't wish to hurt her, only to heighten her pleasure. She let out a cry of need as she dreamed. Her legs and pelvis twitched. He chuckled a little.
Yes, Nerys, he thought. Keep dreaming, darling, and being so pliable for me! Maybe I'll prove so much better than that monster that you call Constable Odo! Maybe you would like Cardassian if you gave it a chance! I was never rude to my Bajoran mistresses. I always made certain they climaxed first, sometimes multiple times. Their bodies demanded it, even if they supposedly didn't want it! You'll prove no different!
He teased the other breast for the sake of balance. He could have spent hours just toying with them, but he didn't have time. His own body was aching and making demands. He threw off his orange and red temple robes. He had never cared for undergarments. He was glad he didn't have to remove layers of armor and cloth, fiddle with belts, boots, or trousers. Maybe the monks and vedeks wore robes to make encounters like this so much easier.
Bajorans were always more clever than he had given them credit for when he was a young soldier with no experience. Most Cardassians thought their men were only good for manual labor and their women only good for kissing and squeezing. They didn't have photographic memories. Their women pursued arts rather than science like Cardassian women. They pursued philosophy and theology rather than law and physics.
But Nerys was a terrible artist and trained herself rigorously to remember complicated codes, formulas, and scriptures. In fact, memorizing scriptures was paramount to her good memory. She focused on combat, weaponry, and the physics of space, computer programs, mapping, geography, and strategy. She never let conservative dogma curb her education. Unlike Meru or Naprem or even his Cardassian wife, she was an equal of Dukat's intellectually, and to Cardassians, that was almost more important than physical attraction. Dukat wed his wife for political purposes and nothing more. Even she knew that.
Dukat pulled off Kira's crimson boots, removed her socks, and yanked her trousers down. He finished discarding the remains of her blouse. Kira was a wary soldier from the age of twelve. Her body was athletic and well-toned and it showed. He appreciated it very much. He knew she actually enjoyed spring ball, a sport that required speed and flexibility. Her main competitor was Reon as a child and Odo currently. She had managed to flatten her stomach from giving birth to her surrogate human son for the most part. There were stretch marks, but he traced them lovingly. Proof of fertility made a woman more desirable to both Cardassians and Bajorans. They were the only marks on her body really. She must have had her shrapnel scars removed as well as whatever angry marks his fellow Cardassians had given her.
He fantasized for a moment about what their hybrid children would look like. He almost teared up thinking about Ziyal. He knew Kira had loved her too. Maybe Kira would be the woman to grant him a beautiful daughter like her again. She was one of the few people in the galaxy that wasn't repulsed by hybrids and she would love it even if it was Dukat's. He kissed her stretch marks on her abdomen and outlined each of her delicate ribs with his fingers.
All that was left was her underwear. It was mismatched with her bra. Instead of flesh-colored, it was a beautiful navy blue color. He imagined Kira wearing that blue dress he had purchased for her and refused to accept. He was tempted to replicate it and place it on her. How surprised she would be if she woke up in that soft and beautiful fabric. No, tempting as the thought was, she must never know what he was about to do.
Dukat kissed her cute nose ridges as he slipped her panties down to her ankles. Then he removed them entirely and worked his way from her toes up. He nibbled the largest digit of her little foot. Then he smeared his lips up her smooth white legs. He spread them and fondled her pink lips. Her breath came out in a hiss. He swallowed a small cry when he slid a finger inside her, testing her, teasing her, wondering how deep, wet, and tight she was. He wanted to plunge in so badly. She was already wet enough, but he hated rushing.
He was just too damn impatient. He rubbed himself upon her clitoris to make her more eager. She was invoking that Changeling's name again, begging for him. The rush of testosterone and anger caused him to impale her in what would have been a cruel and painful stroke if she had not been aroused already. Instead of screaming in pain, she moaned in pleasure and bucked to instinctively take him in. He was a little surprised. She took all of him quite easily. In fact, he though with angry shame, Odo must be larger. He cursed. Of course, the Shifter could make himself fit her in a way that no humanoid creature possibly could! He could make Bajoran ridges or make himself smooth, whatever took her fancy! Dukat had always prided himself in his size and technique. He had never been made to feel so inadequate. His anger made his thrusts deliberate, powerful, and deep.
He wished that Nerys could be awake, crying out his name and not Odo's. He wanted her matching his lust and passion. He knew he was sinning terribly. He knew he deserved hell for this. He wanted her to give herself willingly, not rape her like this! He wanted her to love him but she never would. He still loved her and wanted her. Didn't that count for something? He just couldn't help himself! This was, unfortunately, how it had to be. She accused him of being a rapist already. The rest of the galaxy sure had a vague definition of what that was. He would never quite understand it. He didn't care to.
He grunted his pleasure as he tried to penetrate deeper and to make his strokes smoother and more satisfying. He wanted more foreplay, more positions, more love-making. She felt so good, though, it wouldn't take much longer for him to surrender to his climax. She was wetter than any woman he had ever had. It was amazing, actually, how wet she was and seemed to get wetter. He wasn't large enough to slam against any sort of barrier, but that didn't stop him from trying. She was so warm. He wondered if the fever made her even warmer.
He suckled a breast, clutched underneath her, and he sheathed himself as far inside her as he possibly could. His ridges and scales scraped her sex, not too roughly, and she tremored in climax. He followed, feeling his whole body erupt with joy and ultimate sexual gratification. Imagine how good it could have been if she had been aware and participating! He gave her a few lazy strokes so they could experience aftershocks and withdrew reluctantly. He raked his nails from her throat down past her thigh with a sensual sigh.
How could he possibly let her go free now? Their paghs had mingled, according to her own religion. If she did leave, a piece of him would forever be with her whether she was aware of it or not. Maybe he had even started a life inside her womb. He hoped so. That would be the definitive revenge and victory he could expect.
He quickly cleaned both their bodies, put his robes back on, and replicated a new blouse and redressed Kira. He tore the neckline once more and sincerely began treating her bruise with the compress. She need never know what had happened. She had slept deep.