The Casualty «Dukat/Damar & OFC» 🔞 ✔️

2. Line of fire

After work, Nyran decided to take a stroll through the streets of Neshkar, the capital of Cardassia Prime. It helped calm her thoughts every time she felt unsettled. Her foster father, Lahar, used to bring her along when he needed quiet to think. She was the only one who understood that it was a time for silence, not talk, which he appreciated as he was an atypically quiet man himself, at least for a Cardassian.

This time it was different. Lahar was gone and she was being pursued by the very man who brought about his demise. Not to mention commited genocide on her own race. She had a lot to be unsettled about. She left his office shaking, barely able to believe what had happened.

She should have been repulsed -- but she was just a little scared. It was mostly excitement that bubbled in her belly every time she thought about it: his closeness, his words, his kiss... his promise. It was so wrong, but she wanted him to do those things to her again. Her skin was still on fire where he had touched her. She needed more.

The holocommunicator on her wrist pinged.

"Hello Nyran," Dukat's voice sounded and a pleasant chill traveled up her spine. A smile forced itself upon her lips. "I was looking for you, but it seems you already left. Have you changed your mind?"

"You didn't specify day and time, sir," she reminded him in a polite tone. "I'm in the city, just clearing my head."

"Well, if you decide to stop by later, I have something to show you," he purred. "You know where my house is, don't you? The guards will let you in. Don't waste time on too much preparation, I imagine you'll enjoy the luxury of my bathroom."

The holocom chimed and went quiet. Dukat was certainly quite sure of himself. Nyran sighed. After the way she threw herself at him this morning, who could really blame him?

.

On second thought, maybe it would have been easier if she had just let him take her right there on top of his desk.

Nyran was getting more and more nervous as she approached Dukat's house. She was let in by guards and brought to him like a paid escort. There was no romance, no courting. Even an impulsive one-night stand would probably feel better. This was not the fantasy Nyran nursed during long nights of solitude, not the way she imagined her first time would be, even if she omitted the blatant fact that she agreed to get deflowered by her boss who was just looking for some fun.

She felt like an animal cornered by her own acceptance of his advances. She really did not think things through. Now that she was here, though, there was no going back. A man like Dukat would not just let her leave and never speak of it again. She would probably lose her job and her apartment. She might as well head straight to the nearest bridge and jump off of it; there was no homeless shelter for discarded Bajoran ex-slaves and dying quickly without suffering from starvation would be preferable to her.

Dukat, dressed in a tasteful navy blue suit, welcomed her with a warm smile, but immediately noticed that something was wrong. Nyran could not help it; her eyes were wide open, breaths fast and shallow. She could feel her limbs tingle and slowly go numb, when the guard uncompromisingly pushed her through the doorway and closed the door behind her like it was something he did every day. Maybe he did. Oh gods, what had she gotten herself into?

"Nyran," Dukat did not forget to purr her name in case it helped, but there was concern in his voice. He leapt out of his armchair, but did not move in closer, as if afraid to frighten her away. "Are you having second thoughts?"

When she opened her mouth, but only silence poured out, he sighed. It did not take a genius to figure out she was afraid. Of what, was another matter.