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Incomprehensible

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Every Weyoun who had ever lived believed that the Founders supplied everything that was necessary -- not only to live, but to thrive.

But Weyoun gets curious too, to the point that he wonders if there was some defect in his cloning. It has been known to happen, and the last two Weyouns before him died so quickly after being activated that there was some rush involved in his own activation.

In fact, it bothers him that he, he alone and not the line, may die in this war. He finds himself interested in things as they pertain to him and not the Dominion. Like the commonality between joined Trill and Vorta, in that they must juggle the individual with the more long-lasting thread of memory passed from host to host.

And he has dreams of things that he couldn't possibly experience. Like seeing a bird fly through the sky instead of a blank slate of gray overhead, or being moved to tears by a piece of music.

Even when he is awake, he dreams of impossible things.

Weyoun sits at his desk console at night, when his work is finished for a few hours. His breath is quicker than usual. Some sort of anticipation. He has, in fact, been planning this for weeks. But this anticipation feels different than other kinds. Perhaps that is part of the appeal.

He taps a few buttons and the viewscreen flickers on. Legate Damar's quarters. Damar hasn't been there long. In fact, he's just now sitting on the couch with what Weyoun would calculate as at least his sixth tall glass of kanar. He isn't alone. A female Cardassian wanders around, running her fingers along various piece of furniture. From Damar's expression, Weyoun guesses that she is attractive.

Anticipation. Something Damar and Weyoun share at the moment. Damar would probably be annoyed if not enraged at the idea of sharing something like that with him, but Weyoun is fond of the Legate in a way. The Alpha Quadrant is full of races who are more complex than they seem, but Damar is such an extreme example of that quality that Weyoun finds himself constantly provoking him just to see what he'll do next.

The female has stopped in front of Damar now, obscuring Weyoun's view so that he has to pick another angle to watch the scene from. A closer one, that shows them in profile. She plucks the now-empty glass from his hand and sets it down, then slowly begins to unfasten the various hooks and latches of his uniform.

Damar sits, reclined, with a deceptively relaxed expression on his face.

Her lips move soundlessly. Weyoun taps a button to allow him to hear. He is curious to know what sorts of sounds this ritual includes.

"--sleep here," Damar says.

"Doesn't your wife miss you?

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Good." The female smiles as she pulls down his pants.

Weyoun is already familiar with Cardassian anatomy, so he isn't quite sure why seeing this has an effect on him. He has seen diagrams of this, so why should it be any different to see the head of Damar's penis already peeking out from the cloaca? Why should the anticipation in the pit of his stomach intensify at the sound of Damar's gasp when the female slides a finger into him?

Somehow, Weyoun isn't particularly interested in analyzing those questions at the moment. The more pressing concern is that watching Damar's arousal grow is causing a physical reaction in his own body.

The Vorta have sexual organs, but are forbidden to use them for reasons only known to the Founders. Genetically, they should have no interest in using them.

And he shouldn't open his clothes just enough to slide his hand inside, but he does.

The female is on her knees in front of Damar now using her mouth and hands to bring Damar to what Weyoun believes the Cardassians call the second stage of arousal. Damar's arms are up on the back of the couch, and his head is rested back against the wall. Weyoun tries to mimic the female's movements with his own hand, but his body seems impatient with his awkward and inexperienced ministrations.

But every now and then, his hand happens to move in a way that makes him gasp the way Damar did when she first touched him.

Damar is mostly quiet now, except for the occasional moan that escapes from his throat. Lazily, he reaches down for her, nudging her shoulder. She seems to understand what this means, and she stops touching him.

Weyoun is almost disappointed, thinking for a moment that they've finished.

Instead of leaving, however, she pulls up her dress and crawls on top of him. Damar moves one of his hands down, between them, and when Weyoun realizes that he is guiding himself inside of her, a surge of pleasure pushes a small, almost startled sound through his lips. For a long moment, the pleasure has a grasp on him so firm that he can't move at all.

When it's finished with him, he sits trembling. Trying to catch his breath. Trying to force his mind to function normally again. As soon as he can, he punches the console so that the viewscreen turns black. Then he hits the console again, needlessly.

He doesn't know why he's angry, so he waits for the feeling to go away.

"This was simply a bad idea," he mutters, almost as an apology, to the empty room.


Damar goes to his station, and almost automatically, he reaches for his stash of kanar. Weyoun has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"You must be having a bad morning," Weyoun says.

Damar sneers. "I cannot comprehend how your Founders expect us to hold all the territory with... Jem'Hadar."

Weyoun can almost hear the unspoken "territory that should belong to the Cardassian Empire!" As if the Cardassians still had an empire, but Weyoun can't entirely fault him for his pride.

"The Founders wishes aren't for you to comprehend, only to fulfill."

"Of course," Damar growls under his breath.

Weyoun can't help but smile. "And is it not the most incomprehensible thing that you find the most fascinating?"

A silence as Damar scrolls through the newest battlefield reports.

"No," he says without looking up.