Fic: "From a Small Moon", Kira Nerys/Jadzia Dax, NC-17
Relationship: Kira Nerys/Jadzia Dax
Warnings/Content: Discussion of past rape and abuse. Also includes light bondage and very light D/s.
Summary: Kira Nerys has always known she wants sleep with women, but she's never had the chance to explore her sexuality. When Jadzia Dax wants to be with her too, Kira can't quite believe her luck. Meanwhile, her experiences during the Occupation of Bajor are still very much alive in Kira's mind...
Author's Note: This fic was inspired by Major Kira's comment in the season two episode Necessary Evil. When Kira thinks that Odo might be propositioning her, she says, "I don't do that. Not for money and not for food." This made me think about Kira's experiences during the Occupation, and inspired this fic. I'm currently watching Deep Space Nine for the first time and I'm only at the beginning of season three, so if this fic containts elements that are inconsistent with later series, please forgive it.
She started stockpiling food in her quarters during the first week. There'd never been food like this before—not regularly, not reliably. When she was a child, food came if there were a good harvest, and if the Cardassians were willing to spare it; when she had to fend for herself, food came if she could lay her hands on it.
She replicated grains and pulses, things that would last, and hid them in the narrow Cardassian cupboards and under her bed. She had money now, too, and she bought food from vendors on the promenade. She bought more than she could comfortably eat, but it took her some time to tire of the luxury of being overfed, of having leftovers.
During the first weeks, she watched the humans eat—amazed to see them so certain of each mouthful that they leant back from their plates and looked around at one another. She listened to them comment on the tastes, the differences between each delicacy. She could remember her father talking about the flavour of certain fruits, the scent of ginger tea, but the taste had always seemed trivial to her. It seemed indulgent to care about anything beyond the number of mouths you could feed.
So she stockpiled and counted how many days she could last when everything went wrong, and then how many days she could last if she fed some of the other Bajorans too. She would count each night before she slept and think, long enough. Long enough.
Long enough for what, she was not sure.
When Bajoran men tried to sleep with her she fended them off or declined politely, depending on what she knew of them. There was a lot of sex in the resistance: everyone was waiting to die. No one wanted to spend what might be their last night alone; no one wanted to miss their only chance to kiss the girl they liked.
Nerys didn't want to miss that chance either, but the women she wanted to kiss were usually being kissed by men instead. She'd spent the night with men several times because she, too, was aware that this might be her last chance, and she thought holding and being held by the wrong person might be better than not being held at all. But in the end, she found she'd rather not be held, not feel a man against her, his breath on her face. So she kicked or declined politely, depending.
She didn't think about the Cardassians.
She'd loved before, or thought she'd loved. Fierce, brave women with too much anger in them, like her, women who, like her, were waiting to die for Bajor and their faith. She loved them when they were with her, when they struggled together to make shuttles fly or to find something to feed six or eight or twenty starving mouths, and she listened to them fuck men and clung to the sound of each intake of their breath and every sigh.
Then they were gone. She didn't think about them after that. Nerys had turned away from pain so often that she no longer noticed the turning. It was all instinct.
But, despite her good instincts, she was thinking about a woman with tangled dark hair and a broken nose the first time she spoke to Jadzia Dax. She was wondering, as she had so often wondered, what that woman's mouth would have felt like beneath her own. She could no longer remember that woman's name, but she remembered how bravely she had fought.
That was why she kissed Jadzia first, because hadn't finished fighting, because she knew what indecision cost. Because she had fought for so long and, damn it all, she deserved to kiss that mouth, to hold a woman, to feel a woman spread out open before her. And she already knew what it was like to have a women turn from her and blush and say, “No, I'm sorry.” She knew she could stand that.
She hadn't expected Jadzia to respond with warmth and affection, to kiss the bridge of her nose and her cheek and her neck, she hadn't expected Jadzia to slide her hand up her thigh and say, “So, Kira, what do you like?”
She hadn't expected to be asked questions she couldn't answer.
She woke in Jadzia's bed, with Jadzia's warm body next to hers. She raised her hand to her mouth and smelt her fingers: they were covered in Jadzia and smelt of seawater, clean but pungent. She slide two of them into her mouth, but she could only taste the barest hint of Jadzia. It was nothing like burying her face between Jadzia's legs, licking her damp labia and feeling Jadzia shudder. She'd wanted to taste a woman like that all her life.
The protocol in refugee camps was to get up at first light and beat the insects out of the blanket. If you were feeling particularly chivalrous, you might share food with your partner, if you could find some. Nerys didn't know what the protocol here was. She was still getting used to sleeping under blankets free from lice.
She didn't know what to do, but she hated indecision, so she rolled over, because she wanted to press her face into Jadzia's neck. She breathed in, letting the soft hair fall into her face. She'd had long hair once, but it had never been like Jadzia's—soft and luxurious and always clean and smooth. Hers had been tangled and broken and she'd cut it one summer when there'd been an infestation of some sort of louse on the moons and she'd never wanted to grow it back.
It was so different, living like this. She ran her fingers over the spots on Jadzia's neck, and then down, over her arm, to her flank. Jadzia made a soft, sleepy sound. So relaxed, Nerys thought, watching her not grabbing for her blanket, not tensing against attack. It made her feel protective.
Jadzia smiled, not opening her eyes. “Good morning,” she said, reaching for Nerys's hand and taking it in her own. She stretched, back arching. Nerys watched the way the motion changed the shape of her breasts. She blinked slowly, sleepily, and traced her fingers down the side of Nerys's face. “What beautiful eyes you have,” she said.
Nerys didn't know how to respond to that. She dropped her gaze, looking at the hollow of Jadzia's throat, the tender lines of her collarbones. Jadzia leant towards her and kissed her, soft, without the urgency of the previous evening.
“So,” she said, “Breakfast first, or sex first?”
She hadn't realised how hungry she was. She hadn't realised, either, that there would be the promise of more, that Jadzia would still be here, so warm and willing and ready. Nerys kissed her again, not knowing, tasting the salt on Jadzia's lips, the sourness of her mouth first thing in the morning. “Yes,” she said, sliding her hands down the Jadzia's smooth, glorious limbs. “Yes, yes, both, yes.”
And so she was happy.
She forgot to count the food stocks on the nights when she slept with Jadzia. “You're insatiable,” Jadzia said, sounding rather impressed, when Nerys slid down between her legs again, wanting to taste her, to feel Jadzia shuddering under her. She'd known all her life she wanted this, she wanted to feel a woman open up to her like this, and now she had it, she never wanted it to stop.
“You taste of me,” Jadzia said when she kissed her afterwards. “I can taste myself on your lips and on the roof of your mouth. I like it. It's like you belong to me.”
“I don't belong to anyone,” Nerys said, turning away, and then cursing herself for her prickliness. She loved the taste of Jadzia in her mouth.
“I know.” Jadzia stroked the place between Nerys's shoulder-blades, and Nerys arched into the touch, allowed herself to be placated, to turn and face Jadzia again.
“You don't talk about it,” Jadzia said, guiding Nerys down so they were facing one another across the pillows. It was late: Nerys wasn't sure what time it was, but the importance of sleep always seem to pale in comparison to the importance of spending time with Jadzia.
“Don't talk about what?”
Nerys snorted. “I feel like I hardly talk about anything else.”
“I suppose you talk about how it was,” Jadzia said. “Not how you felt.”
“How do you think I felt?”
Jadzia pressed her lips together. She seemed young, suddenly, to Nerys, even though she was so much older. Her body was so perfect: free from the marks of hard labour, hunger or torment. “Angry,” Jadzia said. “And frightened. I can guess, but I don't want to put words into your mouth.”
“No. That about covers it. Angry.” Nerys wanted to roll over, to swaddle herself in blankets away from Jadzia, but she didn't want to seem mad or spiteful. “Frightened, too, I suppose.”
“You were a child when you started in the resistance. I can't imagine how frightened you must have been.” Jadzia's voice was soft, musing. Nerys listened to its gentleness and was sure Jadzia was trying to draw her out.
That was normal, Nerys supposed. Couples always talked and talked. Nerys didn't know what to say, and didn't think she would be as an apt a pupil at it as she was at giving head.
She rolled onto her back, and told the truth, “I was done being frightened then. I was angry.”
She shut her eyes to show she didn't want to talk any more. Jadzia put her hand on her shoulder, soft hair tickling Nerys's arm. But she didn't ask any more questions, and so Nerys could lull herself to sleep by going over her stock of food.
On her own, she slept badly, which was better than sleeping badly when she shared a bed with Jadzia. She dozed rather than slept when she spent the night with Jadzia. She remained half awake, watching her breathe and turn in her sleep, cataloguing the shadows against her limbs and the little noises she made in her dreams. Nerys watched her face, open and young, not as controlled as she was in wakefulness, and relished these moments when she could see this. She didn't think she'd have them for long.
On the nights she spent alone, she was exhausted and sank into a heavy sleep. She struggled to wake from it even when she dreamt that there were hands holding her down, that she was staring into a smiling Cardassian face. She didn't consider asking Bashir to help her regulate her sleep cycles; she had thrived on much less sleep than this.
Still, some days when she walked she felt as though she were floating, and her hands did not seem quite under her control.
Jadzia mentioned it while they were eating dinner. “Your face is heavy.”
Jadzia reached over the plates of food, cupped her cheek gently. “I mean you look tired, Nerys.”
She shrugged and looked back down at her meal. It was something Jadzia had chosen: a fragrant stew of some unknown vegetable, served with rise and faintly spiced yoghurt. She had been trying not to bolt her food lately, because Jadzia ate so slowly, and finishing first made her feel embarrassed. The embarrassment bothered her too: she wanted people to take her just as she was, because there was nothing wrong with her.
“Don't you like it?” Jadzia took a delicate spoonful of the pallid vegetable. “I can order something else for you.”
“It doesn't matter if I like it,” Nerys said. “It's food. A year ago I... A year ago, half the women I knew would have had sex with a Cardassian for a quarter of what I have in front of me.”
“So you're saying the portions are too large?”
Nerys stared at her. There was no humour in her face, but the voice had been teasing. She was, Nerys thought, trying to make this easier.
“I can't imagine what it's like, adjusting to all of this,” Jadzia said gently, putting her spoon down. Not worrying that someone might take the plate from her.
“You can't, can you? Your back hasn't spent one night sleeping on rocky ground in all its overprivileged life.”
“That's not true. I went on a very unfortunate camping trip once...”
She was joking, but Nerys pushed the chair back, standing up. She left the food. She left Jadzia. She heard Jadzia calling her, but she didn't turn around.
She went to her room and paced and fumed. Her ridiculous, overly large room. She'd never had her own room before, not like this. She'd shared with her family, and then it was dormitories, then anywhere she could find to sleep. She paced, looking at her bed, at the blankets. She opened the cupboards and checked on the food.
Jadzia called to her door before she had time to collect her thoughts. She hid a bag of grain beneath a blanket and let her in.
“I don't think I liked that meal,” Nerys said.
“Like with sex, you'll learn what you like and don't like.” Jadzia took her hand. Jadzia was always touching her—there was a whole language of gesture and caress she used to communicate with Nerys, but Nerys didn't really understand it, or how she was supposed to respond. “For now, we know you don't like aubergines.”
“Sex is the only thing that makes sense,” Nerys said, honestly. “I don't know how... All the rest of this...” she gestured with her free hand at them, at the room. “I don't understand any of it.”
Jadzia kissed her. “You'll learn,” she said again. She guided Nerys towards the bed. Nerys sat, and stripped off her tunic. “You'll learn.” Jadzia said it softly, almost to herself. “It will get easier.”
Nerys didn't want to talk about it. She wanted the only thing that made sense: the comfort of Jadzia's limbs, her skin, her voice, her vulva. “What have you learnt you like?” she asked.
“I like it when you go down on me. You think about my pussy, don't you, whenever we're together.” Jadzia could say things like that without changing the tone of her voice, her expression as insouciant as ever. “You like pussy, I bet you spent half your adolescence imagining going down on women. What is it you like? The pleasure I get from it?” She ran her fingers over Nerys's neck, down her arm. “Having me like that, open to you?”
“Yes. Yes, I like... I like being in control of you. I like knowing I can have that effect on you. I like it...” It was hard to find words for this. It was all so new. “I like it when you make noises, because I draw them out of you. I like it when you're vulnerable to me.”
Jadzia smiled. “Do you?” She ran her fingers through Nerys's hair, pulled Nerys's mouth to hers so could kiss her, hard and hot. Nerys could feel teeth against her lips.
She took Nerys's hands in hers. “Have you tied anyone up before? A prisoner, maybe?”
“Of course I have,” Nerys said, watching her carefully. She hoped this line of questioning would go in a certain direction, but she wasn't sure how to form the words to ask for it herself.
Luckily, Jadzia said, “Tie me up. Bind my arms, to start with. Then you really will be in control, won't you?” She ran her fingers over Nerys's wrist. “That's OK, I trust you.”
Nerys used a scarf: it wasn't the best, she'd use something better next time. Next time—if such a thing occurred again. She tied Jadzia's hands behind her back; the knots were not her most accomplished, she thought perhaps Jadzia could wriggle free if she chose, but Jadzia didn't seem to want to test them. She was smiling still, watching Nerys, trusting, her skin soft and supple, the dark scarf and the pattern of spots standing out starkly again it.
She was so trusting, so assured. For a brief moment Nerys wanted to hit her face, to twist her nipple, pull out a chunk of her hair: anything to show it was stupid to be this gentle, to trust this easily. But then it was enough to know she could do those things, but would choose not to. Jadzia might be hurt, one day, but not here, and not by her.
Nerys pushed her back onto the bed. She had her kneel. She stood in front of her, forced slightly off balance by the mattress, bracing her hands against Jadzia's shoulders. Jadzia's mouth was on level with Nerys's pussy, her breath tickling the labia, making it clench with anticipation.
“Lick me,” Nerys said, and Jadzia surged forward, delicate tongue sliding the length of Nerys's vulva. Nerys gripped Jadzia's shoulders, digging her fingers in, soft skin yielding to her.
“Suck,” she whimpered, and then thought this was not what she meant, she'd meant to be the one in control, and here she was clinging to Jadzia and keening, while Jadzia sucked and licked her cunt, bent in front of her.
“Enough,” Nerys said, and was pleased when Jadzia pulled her head away. She knelt down too so she could lick her juices from Jadzia's face, from her mouth and lips. Then she slid further down and licked Jadzia's nipples, sucking a small nub into her mouth. She looked up and saw that Jadzia had thrown her head back, long hair falling around her throat.
She was here, beautiful and limber, and so was Nerys, Nerys was here with her, tying her up, holding her down, eating her out, doing what she wanted. It hit hard, it caught her as sudden and sharp as pain: the knowledge that she was here, she was out, it was over, that Jadzia was whimpering because, she, Nerys, was sliding her fingers into Jadzia's wet pussy.
Nerys buried her face in Jadzia's breasts. She was overwhelmed, suddenly, with feeling. She licked Jadzia's soft skin, tasting salt, and crooked her fingers up inside Jadzia, and felt Jadzia grind against her. Salt. She was crying, she realised, crying as she slid her fingers in and out of Jadzia, crying as she kissed those soft, delicious breasts.
“Look up,” Jadzia said, with no command in her voice. It was a question. Nerys answered. She looked up. Her face wet, her chin trembling, her cunt still stinging with arousal.
“I'm...” Nerys looked at Jadzia's lovely face. “I'm here, I'm here, I'm with you.”
Jadzia ground down, trapping Nerys's fingers inside her. “I know,” she said. “I know, I know, I know.”
She drifted in and out of sleep all night. Jadzia slept heavily, hair in her eyes, her dreams making her smile. Nerys felt heavy all over, unable to sleep but unable to get up, trapped between two worlds. Her muscles cramped and were stiff.
Jadzia got up before she did. Nerys watched her through half open eyes as she replicated tea, and sat, naked, at Nerys's table, sipping. When the computer alerted her that it was 0700, Nerys managed to sit up, surprised by her own tiredness.
“I'm glad I didn't wake you,” Jadzia said. “Does you shift start soon?”
Nerys rolled her shoulders. She was naked under the sheets too, and she didn't want to be exposed just now. “About an hour,” she said. “I was going to go to the gym.”
“Because I didn't give you enough of a work-out last night?” Jadzia stretched out her bare legs, spreading her toes. Nerys watched, but wrapped herself in the sheet before venturing out of bed and to the bathroom.
She debated whether or not to put on her robe, but dressed instead in her uniform. She ran her fingers through her hair. She wanted to shower, but she didn't want to leave Jadzia alone in her quarters for too long.
“I was looking for a spoon,” Jadzia said, standing in front of one of the cupboards. “You have an awful lot of grain.”
She'd opened all of the cupboards. Nerys knew it as soon as she saw the way Jadzia was looking at her. She looked calm and interested. Nerys suddenly wanted to wipe away that expression. She wanted Jadzia to be disgusted, not understanding. She wanted her to laugh at the silly little Bajoran, hoarding food, so she could shout right back.
“You had no right,” Nerys said..
“I was looking for something to stir the last of my tea,” Jadzia said. She sounded reasonable, gentle.
“Doesn't it get boring, being so calm all the time?” Nerys's voice rose. She couldn't stop it; she didn't want to stop it. “Don't you ever feel anything? Don't you ever think I'm stupid?”
“No. Why, do you think I am?”
“Yes,” Nerys said truthfully. “Yes, I think you're stupid, I think so all the time. You're so... You don't know anything. You don't know what it's like not to eat for a week. You don't know what it's like to work when you have fever and not to have a blanket to sleep under even though you're shivering. You don't know what it's like not to trust even your own people, because you're all so tired and hungry and broken.”
Jadzia took her hands. Nerys realised, in Jadzia's steady grip, that they were trembling. “Tell me what it's like,” Jadzia said. “Tell me.”
“I never thought I'd get out,” Nerys said.
“And you don't know how to live, now that you have?”
Jadzia tried to hold her, but Nerys pushed her away. She was crying again. It wasn't like last night, the tears didn't feel like a prayer, like a healing, they just felt stupid and painful and sore. Crying, she thought, was a lot like vomiting: embarrassing, but you couldn't help it, and you should really only do it in the bathroom, if you could get there in time. Nerys put the back of her hand to her eyes, then her nose.
“You don't know...” she said. “Women like me, we were prostitutes, or we were raped. Which do you think I was?”
A long pause. The silence stretched and hurt Nerys's ears. When Jadzia spoke, her voice was hushed.“I can guess. But I'd rather you told me.” Jadzia was standing across from her now, arms folded in front of her. She was still being gentle, and she wasn't trying to touch Nerys any more. It was just the right thing to do, and Nerys wished she would do something wrong, so Nerys could be angry with her.
She sat on the edge of the bed. She felt like all the energy, all the anger, were draining out of her, into her boots, into the floor. “It's better to be a prostitute,” Nerys said. “You're more in control. And you get a meal afterwards. Who says my pride is worth more than a meal?”
Jadzia sighed. “You're worth everything, Kira Nerys,” she said.
Nerys looked up at her, disappointed. “That doesn't mean anything.”
“I'm sorry. I'm stupid, remember?”
Jadzia took a step towards her, and another, and then Nerys collapsed forward, feeling as though her muscles had gone to water. Jadzia caught her, and she pressed her face into Jadzia's stomach. Jadzia stood over her, running her fingers through her hair, stroking Nerys's back. “Everything,” Jadzia said again, as though it meant something. “Everything.”
“You're not exactly submissive either,” Nerys said, knowing she might be happier if she didn't say it, but saying it anyway. “So why do you let me?”
They had real rope now—black and a little too long. It coiled on the floor behind Jadzia's bound arms. “I like it when you tie me up,” Jadzia said. “It's true, I'm not submissive. That doesn't mean I don't like you doing this to me.”
Nerys sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her kneeling lover, at the contrast between dark rope and pale skin. She briefly wondered what gagging Jadzia would be like, and decided she would much rather have Jadzia talking, because Jadzia could say some truly filthy things. “Why do you like them?”
Jadzia shrugged, a motion truncated by the rope. “I've been alive a long time. Long enough to have discovered plenty of things I like.”
Her hair was still tied back. Nerys went to her and undid it, smoothing her hands through it, letting it fall over Jadzia's shoulders. There was something about Jadzia's hair that said luxury to Nerys, and it was a luxury she could never resist. She said, without thinking about it, “You're so beautiful.”
“So I've been told,” Jadzia said. “I don't think you know how beautiful you are.”
“Someone keeps mentioning what a nice ass I have.” Nerys carded her fingers through Jadzia's hair. How could Jadzia kneel, bound, at her feet, and still make Nerys feel like Jadzia was the one who was in control, who was orchestrating all of this?
“Do they? How improper of them.”
“I think it's you.” Nerys bent, hands cupped around the back of Jadzia's head, tugging her up towards her mouth so she could kiss her. She could feel Jadzia's muscles strain as she followed the movement of Nerys's mouth.
“Well, I'm always rude,” Jadzia said, warm against Nerys's lips, almost laughing.
“You are. I don't know how Starfleet let you in.”
“I had to lie a lot.” Jadzia dropped her head, losing Nerys's mouth and kissing her breasts instead, tongue flicking over the nipple, and then down to her stomach. “If my hands were free, I could grab that great ass of yours.”
“Just one of the many reasons why they're not.”
Jadzia's lips were almost at her vulva. She spoke instead. “Have you ever put your fingers in your ass? Felt how hot you are in there?”
“I'd like to lick your hole. Feel its heat. Slide my finger inside you, feel how tight you are, feel your pulse against me. I'd like to do it while my other hand's on your vulva, slick and wet, and feel the contrast. It'd make you whimper.”
“Want to bet on that?”
“Turn around right now, and I'll make you whimper with just my tongue against your ass.”
Nerys shook her head, aroused and overwhelmed at the same time. “Lick my pussy like any normal person,” she said. “You pervert.”
Jadzia's mouth quivered against her labia, and Nerys knew she was laughing.
They were in Nerys's quarters, Jadzia propped up on the bed, reading a PADD. Nerys had barely slept the night before, watching Jadzia drift in and out of dreams, and she'd added two more bags of grain to the pile under the bed before going to work.
(Because this wasn't going to last. Because life, if nothing else, had taught her to be sensible.)
Nerys had thought she would meditate, but she couldn't concentrate with Jadzia in her room. That was strange, because she could concentrate with twenty Bajoran children all talking at once, and Jadzia was always very tactful.
She came and sat on the bed beside her, defeated. “What are you reading?”
“A very scholarly and well-crafted report on convergent evolution on one of the new planets in the Gamma quadrant,” Jadzia said. “I'm very bored by it, and it's one of my areas, too.” She sighed and drew her legs up to her chest.
“Do you have to read it now?”
“I'm supposed to discuss it with the ensign in the morning.” She opened an arm to Nerys. “Come here. You look beautiful tonight.”
“You say that all the time,” Nerys said, but she allowed herself to be drawn to Jadzia. She meant to give her a quick hug, but Jadzia deftly arranged them so Nerys was resting with her head cushioned on Jadzia's chest, Jadzia's fingers playing softly with her hair. It was nice. She could hear Jadzia's heartbeat against her ear, as faint as distant thunder.
“I thought I'd want to sleep with a man now, because Curzon never did, and I thought I'd miss it, but once I met you I found I didn't want men at all. I only wanted your beautiful eyes and your soft body, and the way you make me feel like I'm melting somewhere inside.”
Nerys wasn't sure melting was a good thing, but the way Jadzia said it made it sound good. “Men don't make you feel like that?”
“Sometimes, perhaps. The right ones. Not like you do.” Jadzia smoothed her hair down, gentle fingers working against her scalp. “Most men are afraid of pussy, I think. It's like they're afraid they'll get bitten.”
Nerys giggled, surprised. “I love your pussy.”
“I know you do. It's very flattering.” Jadzia picked up her PADD again, scrolling through it one-handed. Nerys shifted, but Jadzia's arm caught her. “Don't go,” she said. “You're lovely and warm.”
“Am I just supposed to sit here adoringly while you read?”
“I can read it to you, if you're bored,” Jadzia said. “Much like Earth's humming-bird hawk-moth, the insect species on Gamma-Theta 62 have diverged from...”
Nerys closed her eyes. She wouldn't sleep, she knew it, not here, like this, in Jadzia's arms, but she was so tired, and Jadzia was right, it was warm.
The word hawk-moth wandered into her mind. She couldn't put the two concepts together, could only imagine them as two separate flying entities. Both useless creatures: moths were too small to eat, and hawks too fast. Jadzia's voice trailed off. Nerys thought she should sit up, but she only sank more deeply into Jadzia's embrace.
So she slept. And, sleeping, she dreamt. The dreams slid easily into her mind, at first a gentle mixture of spiders and fruit and flying, and then the same old images: being held down. Skin torn off. Raped. Cardassians grinning calmly as they pulled her teeth and slid their dry, grey fingers over her thighs, up to her pussy.
She fought. There were hands on her, a warm heat holding her down, breath against her face. She struggled, lost between dreaming and wakefulness, hitting desperately at whatever held her down.
Then she was properly awake, aware she was panting, gasping, aware she had thrown Jadzia's PADD across the room, and that Jadzia was holding one hand to her face, over her eye.
“Jadzia,” she said, scrambling up, scrambling off the bed. “Fuck. Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
“That was quite a way to wake up,” Jadzia said, trying to smile. She took her hand away, and Nerys could see faint swelling in even the dim light.
She could breathe properly now, but the adrenaline was still coursing through her. She wanted to run, or fight, or scream, but froze instead, wrapping her arms around her torso, rocking herself slightly. “Are you all right?” she said. “I think I gave you a black eye. I'm sorry.” She ducked her head, waiting for Jadzia to leave. She hoped she would start shouting. She could take being shouted at.
“You're shivering,” Jadzia said. “Come back under the covers. I'm fine; it's just my eye. I'll get Julian to look at it in the morning.”
Nerys sat back on the bed, at the very bottom. She didn't think she could stand Jadzia's warmth against her.
“That must have been a bad dream,” Jadzia said, always gentle, always tactful. Shout, Nerys implored her inside her head. Shout so I can yell right back.
She drew her knees up to her chest and nodded.
Jadzia was blinking slowly, as though she were trying to gauge how much her eye hurt. Nerys wondered if she should go to the doctor now, but she didn't feel like suggesting it. Jadzia knew her own eye best. “You don't have them often, do you?”
Nerys thought about lying but said, “Yes. When I sleep deeply, I get them. I didn't get them before I came here, not really. I don't know why it's now.”
“But you haven't had one when I've been here before, have you?”
Nerys chewed at her lip. Now you'll see how flawed I am, she thought. You'll run away. “At first I was so happy to be with you I couldn't sleep,” she said. “And then I didn't want to. In case I dreamt.”
Jadzia sighed. “Come here. You're still shivering.”
“Well, my eye hurts, and watching you shiver is making it worse. Come here.”
She got under the covers and pressed her trembling flank against Jadzia's steady, warm one. She wasn't cold, exactly: she was sweaty, but the sweat was chilly and her jaw was trembling, as though she were frightened.
“We spend the night together a lot. You must be running on hardly any sleep.”
“I've gone further, on worse,” Nerys said, honestly.
Jadzia put her arm around her again, and Nerys wanted to shrug her off, but didn't. “You're not at war any more, you silly girl. You can relax a little. Be more gentle with yourself. You can fall apart a bit, you know. It won't be the end.”
“Don't call me that.”
“Is that all you heard?” Jadzia sighed again.
“No,” Nerys said. “But it's the only part that really makes sense to me.”
Jadzia stroked her hair, and then her cheek. “Do you think you can sleep a bit more tonight, sweetheart?”
“I don't know.”
“Will you try?”
“What if I punch your other eye?”
“I'll still like you,” Jadzia said. “I'll still be annoying and calm and not let you blow up at me. I still won't leave.”
Nerys flopped back against the pillow. “Do you know everything I'm feeling?”
“As demonstrated by ten minutes ago? No,” Jadzia said. “But I am a bit older than you.”
She felt Jadzia settle next to her, felt Jadzia's warm fingers stroking her arm. She kept her eyes open, open and dry and safe. She kept them open, staring at the darkness, and then felt Jadzia's arm tighten slightly, and Jadzia said, “I'll talk to you more about convergent evolution. It's the most soporific thing I can think of.”
Jadzia had to leave early to get her eye fixed. It was already bruising purple, and without Julian's administrations it would probably swell shut. Nerys watched Jadzia touching her face awkwardly, and hated herself for inflicting so much damage on someone she cared about so much.
“What on earth are you going to say to Bashir?” Nerys asked.
“What do you think? Accident in a Holosuit? Cheated at Dabo? My terrifying Bajoran lover beat me?”
Nerys felt herself flush. “Definitely that last one. No one would believe you cheat.”
Jadzia came over and cupped Nerys's chin in her hand. “How do you feel? You could take a day off, you know. Julian could give you something to help you sleep.”
“You're worrying about me? You're the one who's beaten up.”
“Of course I am,” Jadzia said. “Besides, I think it makes me look dashing. Maybe I should keep it for the Klingon delegation tomorrow.”
“Get rid of it. I feel sick, looking at it.”
Jadzia kissed her forehead. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I was only joking.”
The kiss was tender, but Nerys didn't feel mollified. “Since when do you call me sweetheart?”
Jadzia just smiled as she let herself out. Nerys stood in her quarters, feeling strangely dizzy and exposed. She looked in her cupboard and under the bed, and counted the bags of grain and pulses. Long enough, she thought. Long enough.
Then she felt better enough to put on her uniform, drink tea, and appear in Ops looking composed.
“I didn't always fight, you know. I was too tired.” It should have come out slowly, possibly after tears. Possibly during some kind of counselling. Instead it came out at once, with no build-up.
Jadzia didn't say anything. She didn't try to touch her, either. She put the PADD down on the couch beside her, and looked over at Nerys. Nerys was still sitting at Jadzia's table, where they'd eaten a replicated dinner of Bajoran delicacies.
“It was stupid. If I didn't fight, I was just letting it happen. And if I was just going to let it happen, I might as well have let them pay me.”
Jadzia waited and then said, “How often did it happen?”
“Not that often. Not to me. It wasn't bad, not really. It could have been worse. It was worse, for other girls.”
“It sounds like it was pretty bad for you.”
It was easier to think it wasn't. She shrugged. “If I'd got them to pay me, give me food... I could have given it to someone else, if I couldn't eat it. The kids were always starving.”
“Nerys.” Jadzia looked like she wanted to come over, but stopped herself. “It sounds like you did what you had to do. There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing you've told me makes me think you acted with anything other than honour during the Occupation.”
Nerys snorted. It was an easy, comforting sound to make. “There's no honour, Dax,” she said. Then she swallowed hard because her throat suddenly felt heavy, as though she might vomit. “I was so tired. Sometimes, I was so tired. It didn't feel like there was anything left of me.”
Jadzia was gripping the sofa cushion. “Sweetheart,” she said, her voice catching on the second syllable. “You didn't do anything wrong.”
A frown, as though she didn't quite believe her. She said, “I'm glad you know.”
Nerys shifted, looking down at her hands. Two nails were chipped. She never used to bother with them, but the Starfleet officers were so well-groomed. Jadzia said, “Are all the nightmares about being raped?”
“No. Not even most of them. Some of them are about kids. Some are about pretty girls dying. Some are about me dying. Some are about being eaten alive, which definitely didn't happen.”
“There are medications that help,” Jadzia said. “Talking about it is supposed to help, too. You can wake me up, if you want to talk.”
“What's the point in both of us not sleeping?”
“I think I've been getting a lot more sleep than you for years,” Jadzia said. “It would be good to keep me on my toes.”
Nerys sat on the couch next to Jadzia. She wanted to put her head in Jadzia's lap and ask Jadzia to stroke her hair, but she didn't want it badly enough to actually do it.
“Will you talk to Julian? About medications, perhaps? He told me there was a good drug that helps to regulate REM cycles.”
Nerys was shocked. “Did you talk to that child about me?”
“Not about you. Just in theory.” Jadzia reached across and touched her shoulder, then her neck. “He's a medical professional, as well as a child.”
“I'll think about it.” She leant into Jadzia's touch. “Jadzia?”
“How can I be so upset and still want to fuck you?”
“Because I'm so irresistible?” Jadzia ran her thumb over Nerys's throat. “I don't know, Nerys. Everyone is different. I want to fuck you, too. I never get tired of the way you feel.”
So Nerys did climb into her lap. She pressed her forehead against Jadzia's and kissed her lips and her nose and her mouth. It was soft, tender, but Nerys didn't want this tenderness. She wanted Jadzia's heat, her rough, panting breaths, she wanted to watch as Jadzia was overtaken by orgasm. She wanted to make sex hers, because it was hers, because whatever had been done it could not erase these moments when Jadzia was beneath her, when all of this pleasure was hers.
Nerys bit at Jadzia's lips, and Jadzia ducked her head and and nipped Nerys's throat, and Nerys gasped, and tossed her head back, amazed by how good blunt teeth against soft skin could feel.
She spread Jadzia out beneath her on the couch and removed uniform and underwear, until Jadzia was naked and perfect. She didn't take off her own clothes. She didn't need Jadzia to touch her yet. She needed only this—Jadzia's soft skin, Jadzia's wet vulva, the soft sounds Jadzia made, the gasp, and sigh, and the soft, murmuring keen when Jadzia climbed closer and closer to orgasm.
That was all she needed. It wasn't much. And it was everything.
“I've still got the grain in my room. And the pulses.” She admitted that during a semi-serious conversation with her feet in Jadzia's lap. Jadzia was putting nail-polish on her toes, which seemed ridiculous to Nerys.
“For when everything goes wrong?”
“Don't say that like it's funny,” Nerys said. “It still might.”
“I'm not. It's pragmatic. No one can tell you it's wrong to be pragmatic.”
“I add it up in my head, to see how many days it will last.”
“Long enough. But only half as long if I let you eat it too.”
“Am I going to be there, then? When everything goes wrong?”
“I don't know,” Nerys said. “I haven't decided that you won't be.”
Jadzia bent her head over the foot, applying shiny red polish with deft strokes. “I'm glad,” she said.