Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Damar strode out in his usual drunken huff, cuing the other Cardassians that it was the end of their shift. For once, the drunken lout stayed the entire day, which surprised Weyoun. But the Vorta was very glad to see Damar go so he could have some time alone to think. The Jem'Hadar in the corners continued working diligently, and Weyoun couldn't help but wish that Damar could be half as useful. But when the bumbling fool had come to the end of what little usefulness he provided, it would be the end of the line for him. The thought made the Vorta smile, and he smiled even wider when the young Changeling walked through the doors.
She came up to him and returned his smile, then sighed.
"I...I would like to hear music. I...can't get the sound of it out of my mind..." she trailed off, her gaze pained and vulnerable. But he nodded to reassure her, and she relaxed slightly.
He showed her how to assess the musical database, and then she left to go to her quarters and explore the new discovery, and he went back to work. He couldn't help wonder why the Changeling had asked him of all people for help. Surely the Female Founder could have helped her. But then, the young Changeling had insinuated that the Founder was not fond of Solid traditions and habits. But none of that was his business anyway.
He turned his attention once more to the Bolian front and concentrated on his work.
…
He sighed wearily as the doors of his quarters closed behind him, and he flopped down on the bed and began to remove his boots. But before he could take them off, his communications console beeped, signaling a new message. He opened the message and stared at the screen in bewilderment.
Come see me. Please.
It was from the young Changeling. He adjusted his clothing and walked back out the door; far be it for him to ignore summons from a god. As he strode through the corridors, he felt something with the message was odd. It wasn't the summons themselves; even he could see the Founder liked his company, a fact that made his spirit dance for joy. It was the please that bewildered him. The young Changeling had always been rather polite with him, not always in words but in her tone of voice. But that please...he banished his bewilderment and suspicions from his mind and entered her quarters.
Like the Female Founder, her room was stark, with only a small console in the corner. He tilted his head in confusion as he noticed that music was playing over her communications system, filling the room with sound. Some sort of plucked string sung a ...rather sensuous melody, and it almost caressed his sense of hearing. It had a driving beat that pounded through him, and he shifted uncomfortably. The music was one thing, but the look the young Changeling gave him as she turned around made shivers run down his spine. Her eyes had a haunted look in them, and he took a step forward in concern for her.
"Founder?" he whispered gently. "Are you all right?"
She closed her eyes and did not respond.
"Shall I call the guards?"
She shook her head. "Please don't."
She sighed and turned back to the console, and, as if in a trance, traced the edge of it. Although one hand lightly brushed the surface of the console, he noticed the other was clenched tightly into a fist. He winced, wondering what in the world could be plaguing her like this. He listened to the music for a moment, then cleared his throat.
"May I ask...why are you listening to Earth music, Founder?"
She turned back to him, and the haunted look eased slightly. "It's enchanting...isn't it, Weyoun?"
He smiled slightly and nodded. "It's quite interesting, yes..."
"I looked it up in the musical database. It's called tango...it has me spellbound, Weyoun. I can't. Stop. Listening. To. This. Song."
Her words were stiff, forced, and his heart started beating a little faster in worry. He knew he probably should call the guards anyway for her own protection, but he was frozen in place as she began pacing. The music seemed to be controlling her actions, and she seemed to be tormented by the sound as it built into an intense crescendo. The melody quickened and quickened and would not stop, and he was about to order the computer to end the music when she cast her gaze toward him a second time.
His heart stopped beating. Her eyes cut him to the core, and the look in them made him tremble with true fear. The haunted look had hardened into fierce determination, and as the music continued to build, she suddenly began to walk toward him. He stiffened, thinking she might strike him, but instead she grabbed his arms and crushed him to her chest.
A warm, fierce mouth found his and he breathed in sharply.
His fearful eyes widened as she pressed harder, eliciting a surprised moan from him. Her hands slowly and carefully moved from his arms to his back, and she held him as close as she possibly could. His knees seemed to turn to water as she slowly caressed his lips with hers, and he clutched at her desperately in order to stay on his feet. His mind whirled madly with a flurry of alarms and questions, but every time he tried to concentrate on the blaring sirens, his thoughts were brought sharply back to the feel of her lips against his. She began to deepen the kiss, pouring an uncontrolled passion into him, and tears began to stream down his face. In one gesture, she had shown him the most painful torture and the most blissful paradise in one. Not knowing what he was doing, he slid his hands from her chest to her back, then closed his eyes. If this is what she desired...he lived to serve her, and it was obvious that this was how she wanted that service. It was not his place to question, only to obey.
And oh, by the Founders...obedience had never felt so sweet, so good. He could taste heaven on her lips, feel paradise in her gossamer caresses. Every hair on his body stood on end as she traced the hem of his jacket, and he could not think. Finally, she released him from the torturous bliss and gazed deeply into his eyes.
"That felt...right," she growled softly. He opened his mouth to attempt a response, but she silenced him with another kiss, this one fiercer than the first. One of her hands was entwined tightly in his hair, and the other kept him steady, resting on his lower back.
In the blink of an eye, he found himself against the wall, her warm body pressed to his. He gasped in shock, but was quickly cut off by her mouth. He moaned weakly, slave to her touch, slave to her every whim. That she would ask this of him...words formed in his head, then quickly died as her fingers lightly stroked his face. He shivered violently, inhaling a sharp, hot breath as she kneaded his hair between her fingers. Her thumb grazed gently over the skin of his neck, and he moaned into her mouth. She pressed even harder against him, and he suddenly felt very hot, then cold as ice. Shivers crept down his back as she opened the dark gates of a delicious hell.
His breath came in short, quick gasps as she moved away from his lips toward his neck. Her touch was timid at first, but quickly grew in intensity until he was moaning like a madman.
Her lips lightly kissed a spot right behind his ear, and he gasped loudly.
She immediately broke away and stared at him in concern. "Weyoun...does this cause you pain?"
He seemed to have momentarily lost the capacity to speak, so he shook his head. She frowned at him, then reached out her hand and touched the spot, starting a slow, careful massage. He hissed and breathed out slowly, his eyes closing of their own accord. It was torture, pure, unadulterated torture as her fingers caressed what felt like the most sensitive part of his body, and he moaned weakly in undeniable pleasure. His eyes opened partially at her gasp, and he saw her eyes alight in comprehension.
"This is pleasing to you," she breathed, pressing harder. He could not suppress a moan, and he nodded slowly to answer her question. Her mouth replaced her fingers, and he felt he might scream as her lips parted and the tip of her tongue brushed his skin.
"Founders," he hissed between clenched teeth, instinctively digging his fingernails into her.
"Intensely pleasing," she murmured in his ear, tracing the edge of the appendage with her tongue. Tears streamed freely down his face now as the pleasure, the pure bliss consumed him. His mind could not process anything but his body's heightened awareness. His senses were overwhelmed with pleasure, with her sensuous caresses and soft lips and warm, unidentifiable smell. Heat...nothing but heat and her tongue and soft hands and his loud, desperate moans...
He felt a breath of cool air as she finally pulled away, and she gazed deeply into his eyes, the haunted look replaced by a very pleased gaze. He smiled weakly as she carefully wiped away the sweat that pricked his brow, and her blue eyes were wide as she lightly touched his cheek.
"I've never seen you act like this, Weyoun...but I like it. I like the noises you make and..."
She trailed off, pressing another desperate kiss on him. But she quickly pulled away again and rested her forehead against his.
"There is more, isn't there?"
"More of what?" he managed to gasp.
"More to this intimacy."
He took a few moments to breathe before answering. "Yes, there is more."
She smiled. "I want to explore it...with you."
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, then began to unlatch his vest, but she gently gripped his wrist. He opened his eyes and her grin widened.
"Not quite yet. Tomorrow night."
He nodded and dropped his hand back to his side.
"Why?" he breathed, then berated himself for daring to question her. But she only smiled and traced his lips with a gentle finger.
"The music made me see...you are...so alluring to me...I don't know why...but you, your ears, your eyes, your skin, your voice...you are irresistible, Weyoun."
Underneath the pool of confusion and conflicting emotions in his mind, he felt irrevocably pleased. A small smile graced his panting lips, and he trembled with delight as she gently kissed his cheek.
"You need sleep," she stated simply, "and I need to regenerate. I'll see you tomorrow."
She kissed his lips one last time, and he willingly drank the sweetness that she poured into him. He bowed his head and left her presence, breathless, his mind reeling. He did not dare to think until he was behind closed doors again, and when they were closed, he backed into them and slid down to the floor, paralyzed by fear.
A Founder had just successfully seduced him and was asking for a more thorough education in intimacy. He could teach her, of course; sexual matters had been part of his training. But to teach a Founder...the thought was ludicrous and frightening. He banished the thought from his mind and went to the washroom. He cupped water from the sink in his trembling hands and splashed it on his face, letting the little rivets run down his neck. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the small mirror. His face was paler than it had ever been, and the purple skin at his hairline and in the hollows of his cheeks was very prominent. Strands of hair that usually were impeccably combed into a fluffy mass had gotten loose when she had pinned him to the wall...
He quickly turned away from his reflection, his skin prickling as if he had received an electric shock.
His pupils were fully dilated. She had...a Changeling had aroused him. He knew that even had he been slightly inclined to build up walls of resistance and control, she would have unlocked them all. In her unyielding curiosity, she now seemed to know more about his body than he did. He had no idea the skin behind his ear was that sensitive...
He finished getting ready for bed and crawled under the sheets, shivering violently. He could not still his whirling mind; his thoughts dwelt reverently and fearfully on everything she had done to him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then tried to sleep. But when the faintest rays of dawn crept down through the tiny skylight, he was still wide awake, still contemplating the task ahead of him.