Quid Pro Quo (DS9)
Title: Quid Pro Quo
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Dukat and Kira compare old war wounds. Set during "Return to Grace".
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and everything it encompasses. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain by it is emotional satisfaction.
Kira turned her back to Dukat, uncomfortable with the naked pleading in his eyes, and directed her attention to the navigation console.
"Major, you're bleeding."
His voice came from right behind her, too close for comfort, and she instinctively stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
"You've been injured. There's a bloodstain on your uniform, just above your waist."
She twisted around to try to see the wound but could not get a good view, so she pressed her hand against her back until it came away wet with blood. "Hm. Must've been that Klingon who attacked me when we beamed aboard. Funny, I hadn't even noticed it until you said something."
"You need to have it treated before it becomes infected. Who knows what pathogens are circulating through this ship?"
She brushed past him as she moved to study the tactical database, but he grasped her upper arm and stopped her. She glanced down at his hand where it held her, then up at his face. "It's nothing, Dukat, just a scratch. I'll deal with it later."
He was insistent. "Major, it's more than just a scratch. Besides, you can't even see the wound, so how can you possibly treat it? Come on, I'll take you to the medical bay."
"Dukat, I --" Her protests fell on deaf ears as he led her from the bridge.
* * * * *
Kira unzipped her jacket and tossed it across one of the two examining tables before hoisting herself up on the other one. As Dukat searched for a dermal regenerator in the clutter of medical equipment, she untucked her undershirt, wincing slightly at the sting of cloth pulling at drying blood. Judging from the gash in her shirt as she pulled it around to examine more closely, the wound, though more substantial than she had previously thought, was fairly clean and would be easy to treat.
"Aha!" Dukat exclaimed with satisfaction when he found the dermal regenerator and activated it. As he came around the table to face Kira, she shifted slightly away from him to give him easier access to the injury. She flinched when his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin, but relaxed at the warm tingle of the regenerator sealing the edges of her flesh.
When Dukat spoke again she jumped at the sensation of his breath against her ear, not realizing just how close he was to her. "Major, what happened here?" he asked, tracing his finger along one of her numerous scars.
Kira turned her head to look at his hand pressed against her skin, nearly knocking into him in the process. He took a half-step back as she raised her arm to examine the scar just below her ribcage, in the soft flesh on her left side. "That one right there?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm."
"I got that one when the Klingons invaded the station. We were fighting in close quarters in Ops, and one of them snuck up on me and stabbed me with a d'k'tagh."
Dukat's easy laugh made her look up at him, and he leaned his hand against the table and bent close, pointing to a network of fine lines across his brow. "Do you see these?" She squinted her eyes to peer at them, and he moved closer. "I got them in the same fight, from a bat'tleth."
Kira raised her eyebrows, vaguely impressed. Then she got an idea, and reached down to pull her right leg up and bent it across her left knee. She rolled her trousers leg halfway up her calf and indicated a deep red and purple scar. "Shrapnel from a Kohn Ma bomb we couldn't defuse in time."
Dukat's grin matched her own, and he removed his communicator bracelet to pull his sleeve up and reveal an irregular growth pattern among the scales on his forearm. "Tricorder set to self-destruct by a Maquis terrorist."
Kira's leg slipped off her knee as she twisted to show Dukat a faded burn mark decorating her upper right arm. "Exploding console from a Jem'Hadar attack on the Defiant." Then she felt along the edge of her collarbone beneath her undershirt until her fingers found what she was looking for. "If you press right there you'll feel the tip of an isolinear chip from the same blast that Doctor Bashir couldn't remove from my bone."
Dukat looked thoughtful as he felt for the knot, but then he smiled at Kira and said, "I always knew you had a chip on your shoulder, Major." He backed away with a chuckle as she half-heartedly swatted at him, and began unbuckling his armor. He pulled it over his head and tossed it on the other table next to Kira's jacket, then turned back to her to pull down the collar of his undertunic. Kira could not help gasping at the large black scar decorating his upper chest. "That's where one of your old friends tried to murder me," he said, his eyes glittering with mischievous humor, "but, unfortunately for her, she forgot, or didn't know, that Cardassian hearts are on the right side."
Kira pursed her lips in thought, then completely untucked her undershirt and leaned back to pull down her trousers waistband. She pointed to the scar just above her pelvic bone. "That one's from a disrupter blast when some of your men raided our hideout." She did not shrink back when Dukat came closer and reached out his hand to run his finger along the scar, although when his caress moved to the fleshy area above her hip she quickly sat up, letting her trousers snap back into place.
Dukat's expression was inscrutable as he turned away from her, only to lower his trousers and bare a good portion of his backside, decorated with a similar scar. "I learned the hard way not to conduct target practice with a nearsighted, seventy-year-old legate." Kira tried not to laugh, but when he craned his neck to look back at her and waggle his eyeridges she lost control, and soon they were both doubled over in raucous laughter.
Her voice still choked with laughter, Kira gasped, "Do you have a scar from that sandspine you sat on?"
Looking at her quizzically, Dukat asked, "Do you want to see it, Major?" He moved his hands to the other side of his trousers. Kira nodded, and he obliged by revealing the neat, circular depression left by the sandspine. His groan when she reached out to grasp his hip the same way she had when she had extracted the sandspine was so low she was not even sure she heard it. His skin felt cool and moist beneath her fingers, and the scales decorating his hip and backside were so tiny that his skin felt almost as smooth as hers. This time it was Dukat who straightened and put his clothes back in order as Kira's exploratory touch grew more curiously intimate.
When he turned back to Kira, Dukat's eyes widened with surprise and his breath escaped in short, shallow pants. She had removed her undershirt to reveal a network of jagged white lines across her chest. "This is what an Obsidian Order operative did to get me to reveal Shakaar's location," she whispered, her eyes focused on his face.
In one swift movement he had removed his undertunic, recoiling inwardly at her sudden intake of breath. "This is what they did to me for failing to exterminate your race." Dukat stiffened as her fingers reached out to trail along the scars that mirrored her own, but when his own gray hand began a similar examination of her wounds she remained calm and pliable. He noticed with pleasurable surprise that Kira's heart seemed to be racing as fast as his own when he cupped her bared breast in his palm. He took a cautious step closer to her, steeling his nerves for the inevitable rejection. Instead, her warm fingers found an old gouge mark he had long ago tried to forget, and his eyes closed as the memory of its source washed over him. "That --" his voice was unusually hesitant and husky "-- I acquired that the first time Naprem and I made love."
Kira leaned into Dukat's caresses, sucking her lip between her teeth when his thumb brushed across her nipple, and ceased pretending to be interested in his scars as she began a deliberate exploration of his ridges. He took another step toward her, but his progress was halted by her bent knees, so she spread her legs slightly, grasping a neck ridge with one hand and pulling him closer. His breath as it escaped through his half-open mouth was as audibly ragged as her own. He began stimulating her breast in earnest as his other hand slipped around her waist to insinuate its way into her trousers and knead at her bottom. Kira bent forward to wrap her arms around his waist and pull him forward until she felt his erection pressing into her crotch, then locked her ankles together behind him, trapping him against her. At the sound of his hiss, she looked up into his passion-glazed eyes.
Dukat could not restrain himself any longer; any doubts he might have had about Kira's eagerness were washed away by the unmistakable look in her eyes. He curled the hand that had been fondling her breast around the back of her neck as his other hand slipped free of her trousers and gently pressed against her stomach until she lay back against the examining table. Then, deliberately but slowly grinding his hips against hers, he bent at the waist and took her breast into his mouth. As her back arched reflexively, he pushed both hands beneath her waistband and began slowly tugging the back of her trousers down. The grinding of her hips against his erection soon matched his own rhythm, and he directed his attention to the other breast. It was not long before her cries for mercy, coupled with the insistent clutching of her fingers around his neck ridges, convinced him to focus his efforts elsewhere. He reluctantly stepped back, breaking the embrace her legs had around him, but in due time her trousers were on the floor and his were around his knees.
When he pressed himself fully into her, grunting with satisfaction at her involuntary moan, he leaned forward as far as possible, supporting her shoulders with his strong hands as he coaxed her lips to meet his.
* * * * *
Dukat nearly tripped over his own feet as he extricated himself from Kira and stepped back, forgetting that his trousers were still bunched around his knees. With a grunt of embarrassment he pulled them up, grimacing at the soreness that lingered in his groin.
"While you're at it, do you think you could hand me my clothing?" Kira still lay back against the table, but her legs were firmly clamped together. Dukat refused to let his eyes linger too long on her naked body as he bent down to retrieve her trousers. When he straightened, she had already put her undershirt back on. He turned his back to her and pulled his undertunic over his head while she finished dressing. "Dukat, wait a minute," she said. He turned and looked at her curiously. "You're bleeding. I... must have scratched you."
He peered over his shoulder to see where her hand rested lightly against his back. A small laugh escaped him as he said, "What is it with you Bajoran women and fingernails?"
Her voice was light, although the look on her face was serious. "I can run the dermal regenerator over it if you want. After all, who knows what pathogens exist on this ship?"
"Just leave it, Major," he said softly, buckling his armor back in place. "It's just another to add to my collection of battle scars."
"Dukat?"
"Yes, Major?"
"If you ever show anyone else your scars --"
"-- this never happened." Her sigh of relief was audible. "Don't worry, Major; after all, who would believe me?"
He studied her, hoping to find a residue of the desire that had been in her expression only a few minutes before. Her gaze was softer, perhaps, but he doubted what had just happened would ever be repeated in his lifetime. He had built a career on once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, however, and this one was no different. He leaned close to her and whispered, "Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not is another matter, Major, but the simple truth is that it did happen, and I have no intention of ever forgetting it." He left the medical bay before she had a chance to respond.
A/N: This was inspired by the scene in "Jaws" when Brody, Quint, and Hooper are seated at the table and comparing "war wounds" the night before their showdown with the shark.
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Dukat and Kira compare old war wounds. Set during "Return to Grace".
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and everything it encompasses. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain by it is emotional satisfaction.
Kira turned her back to Dukat, uncomfortable with the naked pleading in his eyes, and directed her attention to the navigation console.
"Major, you're bleeding."
His voice came from right behind her, too close for comfort, and she instinctively stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
"You've been injured. There's a bloodstain on your uniform, just above your waist."
She twisted around to try to see the wound but could not get a good view, so she pressed her hand against her back until it came away wet with blood. "Hm. Must've been that Klingon who attacked me when we beamed aboard. Funny, I hadn't even noticed it until you said something."
"You need to have it treated before it becomes infected. Who knows what pathogens are circulating through this ship?"
She brushed past him as she moved to study the tactical database, but he grasped her upper arm and stopped her. She glanced down at his hand where it held her, then up at his face. "It's nothing, Dukat, just a scratch. I'll deal with it later."
He was insistent. "Major, it's more than just a scratch. Besides, you can't even see the wound, so how can you possibly treat it? Come on, I'll take you to the medical bay."
"Dukat, I --" Her protests fell on deaf ears as he led her from the bridge.
* * * * *
Kira unzipped her jacket and tossed it across one of the two examining tables before hoisting herself up on the other one. As Dukat searched for a dermal regenerator in the clutter of medical equipment, she untucked her undershirt, wincing slightly at the sting of cloth pulling at drying blood. Judging from the gash in her shirt as she pulled it around to examine more closely, the wound, though more substantial than she had previously thought, was fairly clean and would be easy to treat.
"Aha!" Dukat exclaimed with satisfaction when he found the dermal regenerator and activated it. As he came around the table to face Kira, she shifted slightly away from him to give him easier access to the injury. She flinched when his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin, but relaxed at the warm tingle of the regenerator sealing the edges of her flesh.
When Dukat spoke again she jumped at the sensation of his breath against her ear, not realizing just how close he was to her. "Major, what happened here?" he asked, tracing his finger along one of her numerous scars.
Kira turned her head to look at his hand pressed against her skin, nearly knocking into him in the process. He took a half-step back as she raised her arm to examine the scar just below her ribcage, in the soft flesh on her left side. "That one right there?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm."
"I got that one when the Klingons invaded the station. We were fighting in close quarters in Ops, and one of them snuck up on me and stabbed me with a d'k'tagh."
Dukat's easy laugh made her look up at him, and he leaned his hand against the table and bent close, pointing to a network of fine lines across his brow. "Do you see these?" She squinted her eyes to peer at them, and he moved closer. "I got them in the same fight, from a bat'tleth."
Kira raised her eyebrows, vaguely impressed. Then she got an idea, and reached down to pull her right leg up and bent it across her left knee. She rolled her trousers leg halfway up her calf and indicated a deep red and purple scar. "Shrapnel from a Kohn Ma bomb we couldn't defuse in time."
Dukat's grin matched her own, and he removed his communicator bracelet to pull his sleeve up and reveal an irregular growth pattern among the scales on his forearm. "Tricorder set to self-destruct by a Maquis terrorist."
Kira's leg slipped off her knee as she twisted to show Dukat a faded burn mark decorating her upper right arm. "Exploding console from a Jem'Hadar attack on the Defiant." Then she felt along the edge of her collarbone beneath her undershirt until her fingers found what she was looking for. "If you press right there you'll feel the tip of an isolinear chip from the same blast that Doctor Bashir couldn't remove from my bone."
Dukat looked thoughtful as he felt for the knot, but then he smiled at Kira and said, "I always knew you had a chip on your shoulder, Major." He backed away with a chuckle as she half-heartedly swatted at him, and began unbuckling his armor. He pulled it over his head and tossed it on the other table next to Kira's jacket, then turned back to her to pull down the collar of his undertunic. Kira could not help gasping at the large black scar decorating his upper chest. "That's where one of your old friends tried to murder me," he said, his eyes glittering with mischievous humor, "but, unfortunately for her, she forgot, or didn't know, that Cardassian hearts are on the right side."
Kira pursed her lips in thought, then completely untucked her undershirt and leaned back to pull down her trousers waistband. She pointed to the scar just above her pelvic bone. "That one's from a disrupter blast when some of your men raided our hideout." She did not shrink back when Dukat came closer and reached out his hand to run his finger along the scar, although when his caress moved to the fleshy area above her hip she quickly sat up, letting her trousers snap back into place.
Dukat's expression was inscrutable as he turned away from her, only to lower his trousers and bare a good portion of his backside, decorated with a similar scar. "I learned the hard way not to conduct target practice with a nearsighted, seventy-year-old legate." Kira tried not to laugh, but when he craned his neck to look back at her and waggle his eyeridges she lost control, and soon they were both doubled over in raucous laughter.
Her voice still choked with laughter, Kira gasped, "Do you have a scar from that sandspine you sat on?"
Looking at her quizzically, Dukat asked, "Do you want to see it, Major?" He moved his hands to the other side of his trousers. Kira nodded, and he obliged by revealing the neat, circular depression left by the sandspine. His groan when she reached out to grasp his hip the same way she had when she had extracted the sandspine was so low she was not even sure she heard it. His skin felt cool and moist beneath her fingers, and the scales decorating his hip and backside were so tiny that his skin felt almost as smooth as hers. This time it was Dukat who straightened and put his clothes back in order as Kira's exploratory touch grew more curiously intimate.
When he turned back to Kira, Dukat's eyes widened with surprise and his breath escaped in short, shallow pants. She had removed her undershirt to reveal a network of jagged white lines across her chest. "This is what an Obsidian Order operative did to get me to reveal Shakaar's location," she whispered, her eyes focused on his face.
In one swift movement he had removed his undertunic, recoiling inwardly at her sudden intake of breath. "This is what they did to me for failing to exterminate your race." Dukat stiffened as her fingers reached out to trail along the scars that mirrored her own, but when his own gray hand began a similar examination of her wounds she remained calm and pliable. He noticed with pleasurable surprise that Kira's heart seemed to be racing as fast as his own when he cupped her bared breast in his palm. He took a cautious step closer to her, steeling his nerves for the inevitable rejection. Instead, her warm fingers found an old gouge mark he had long ago tried to forget, and his eyes closed as the memory of its source washed over him. "That --" his voice was unusually hesitant and husky "-- I acquired that the first time Naprem and I made love."
Kira leaned into Dukat's caresses, sucking her lip between her teeth when his thumb brushed across her nipple, and ceased pretending to be interested in his scars as she began a deliberate exploration of his ridges. He took another step toward her, but his progress was halted by her bent knees, so she spread her legs slightly, grasping a neck ridge with one hand and pulling him closer. His breath as it escaped through his half-open mouth was as audibly ragged as her own. He began stimulating her breast in earnest as his other hand slipped around her waist to insinuate its way into her trousers and knead at her bottom. Kira bent forward to wrap her arms around his waist and pull him forward until she felt his erection pressing into her crotch, then locked her ankles together behind him, trapping him against her. At the sound of his hiss, she looked up into his passion-glazed eyes.
Dukat could not restrain himself any longer; any doubts he might have had about Kira's eagerness were washed away by the unmistakable look in her eyes. He curled the hand that had been fondling her breast around the back of her neck as his other hand slipped free of her trousers and gently pressed against her stomach until she lay back against the examining table. Then, deliberately but slowly grinding his hips against hers, he bent at the waist and took her breast into his mouth. As her back arched reflexively, he pushed both hands beneath her waistband and began slowly tugging the back of her trousers down. The grinding of her hips against his erection soon matched his own rhythm, and he directed his attention to the other breast. It was not long before her cries for mercy, coupled with the insistent clutching of her fingers around his neck ridges, convinced him to focus his efforts elsewhere. He reluctantly stepped back, breaking the embrace her legs had around him, but in due time her trousers were on the floor and his were around his knees.
When he pressed himself fully into her, grunting with satisfaction at her involuntary moan, he leaned forward as far as possible, supporting her shoulders with his strong hands as he coaxed her lips to meet his.
* * * * *
Dukat nearly tripped over his own feet as he extricated himself from Kira and stepped back, forgetting that his trousers were still bunched around his knees. With a grunt of embarrassment he pulled them up, grimacing at the soreness that lingered in his groin.
"While you're at it, do you think you could hand me my clothing?" Kira still lay back against the table, but her legs were firmly clamped together. Dukat refused to let his eyes linger too long on her naked body as he bent down to retrieve her trousers. When he straightened, she had already put her undershirt back on. He turned his back to her and pulled his undertunic over his head while she finished dressing. "Dukat, wait a minute," she said. He turned and looked at her curiously. "You're bleeding. I... must have scratched you."
He peered over his shoulder to see where her hand rested lightly against his back. A small laugh escaped him as he said, "What is it with you Bajoran women and fingernails?"
Her voice was light, although the look on her face was serious. "I can run the dermal regenerator over it if you want. After all, who knows what pathogens exist on this ship?"
"Just leave it, Major," he said softly, buckling his armor back in place. "It's just another to add to my collection of battle scars."
"Dukat?"
"Yes, Major?"
"If you ever show anyone else your scars --"
"-- this never happened." Her sigh of relief was audible. "Don't worry, Major; after all, who would believe me?"
He studied her, hoping to find a residue of the desire that had been in her expression only a few minutes before. Her gaze was softer, perhaps, but he doubted what had just happened would ever be repeated in his lifetime. He had built a career on once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, however, and this one was no different. He leaned close to her and whispered, "Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not is another matter, Major, but the simple truth is that it did happen, and I have no intention of ever forgetting it." He left the medical bay before she had a chance to respond.
A/N: This was inspired by the scene in "Jaws" when Brody, Quint, and Hooper are seated at the table and comparing "war wounds" the night before their showdown with the shark.