As always, Paramount owns the characters; but what those characters do when the studio lights go down is more entertaining when left to ferment in more depraved minds. And if you're under 17, well, geez, kid, get lost.

Author's Note:

- This is actually a section (including an extended flashback) of a larger story whose premise promptly exploded after I saw "Facets" and whose discrepancies couldn't be reconciled satisfactorily

- Thus, the title has nothing to do with the story as it is now, though it fit very nicely before (the literal translation is "malicious joy," or perhaps "joy in the face of others' misery")

- Lots of expository blather in here, since I find it more interesting than graphic descriptions of panting and heaving (though, as befits the nature of this group, there's plenty of *that* too :) ) which tend to run together until one might as well be watching the seals at the zoo. You have been warned!

Star Trek - Deep Space Nine: Schadenfreude (FF)
by Diavolessa

Kira activated the signal to Dax's quarters. "Come in," she heard after a pause. Hesitantly, she entered the room, which was darkened and uncharacteristically quiet. Dax was slouched in a corner of the sofa, long legs propped up on a glass table, a raktajino gone cold sitting at her elbow. Kira approached softly from behind, leaning over to wrap her arms around Dax's neck and do what she had been longing to do all day: kiss the tiny vertical lines that appeared over the Trill's nose whenever she frowned, as she was doing now. Dax held out for a minute, but the good humor that was so much a part of her nature prevailed; she smiled wryly and leaned her head back to kiss Kira properly, then reached out to pull the Bajoran to her on the sofa. Kira curled up nearly in Dax's lap and they sat in comfortable silence, Dax amusing herself by running her fingers idly through Kira's short auburn hair and making it stand on end. Finally, Kira sensed that her friend's tension was abating, and spoke.

"Want to talk about it?"


"You're going to totally ignore the fact that your son has just turned up out of the blue."

"Sounds about right. Besides, he's not really...."

"....Your son, I know. Believe me, I know--I just got a lecture on Trill physiology from Julian. So he's Torias' son. He means nothing to you, you're not the least bit curious about why he's here, you just happen to be sitting here in the dark brooding like an offended Klingon?"



"Shut up," said the Trill, but without heat.

Kira scanned her friend's face; the lovely features were set in that all-too-familiar, infuriatingly serene mask and the clear blue eyes framing the ancient soul were completely unreadable. She sighed, supposing that one couldn't maintain balance for over four hundred years without building up defensive walls; as she often had before, she felt a brief flash of envy at Dax's outwardly unshakable composure, then laid her head back on Dax's shoulder.

"Stay with me tonight." It was not quite a question.

Kira felt a stab of pleasure in her gut. "You're sure?" It had been a long time; 'Not since I met Bareil...' "Um...what about Leeta?" she hazarded, a touch jealously, knowing Dax had been spending a lot of time with the Dabo girl recently.

"What about her?"

"I thought you two"

"I don't *own* her, you know. She's perfectly free to see other people as well."

Kira still wavered; she adored Dax, but it disconcerted her at times that the Trill was so insistently self-contained.

In answer to the unspoken questions flitting across the Bajoran's face, Dax rose to her feet, pulling Kira with her towards the bedroom and shedding her uniform along the way. Dax had always been unselfconscious, but Kira noticed a new quality about her: the hands that once would have been clasped behind her back--as though she were unsure of what to do with them otherwise--now gestured freely and animatedly; where the Trill had once been utterly indifferent to her naked form, she now moved with a deliberate, almost leonine grace.

"Remember the first time we did this?" Dax asked, a wicked glint in her eye as she helped Kira undress.

Kira did, indeed, and shivered in delicious memory....

....After the Federation "takeover," as she and Odo thought of it, Kira spent considerable time and energy just getting used to the fact that there was no more war. She had to consciously refrain from reacting violently to unfamiliar sounds and voices, and it was weeks before she stopped scouting for cover every time she entered a room; bone-deep habits of a lifetime of vigilance had left her poorly prepared for peace, and no paper alliance between the Feds and the squabbling leaders of her own world was going to dispel the idea that it could not last. But against her bitterest expectations the uneasy truce seemed to hold, and gradually her emotional turmoil subsided.

She kept a constant wary watch on her new colleagues. Sisko she regarded with grudging respect for his calm presence and surprisingly flexible ability to command, and with awe for his role as intermediary to the Prophets. O'Brien had earned her far less grudging admiration - anyone who could coax the balky Cardassian equipment into something approaching functional capacity could vote himself into the Vedek Assembly, as far as she was concerned. And she avoided Julian Bashir when she could because any encounter with the young doctor's gung-ho naivete resulted in immediate hackle-raising irritation.

But Dax - Dax was different. It was not just the exotic nature of her species, or the exquisite beauty she wore so lightly without a trace of vanity, or her casual jettisoning of Starfleet's beloved protocol, or the odd humor that occasionally escaped through the unruffled surface. Rather than being intimidated into hostility, Kira was utterly disarmed by the paradox that was Jadzia Dax; as their friendship grew, so did the intensity of her fascination.

Possessed of a vast spectrum of knowledge and experience leavened with a healthy dose of irreverence, Dax recognized the signs of an impending crush - thanks in no small part to Curzon's expert and wandering eye, which she had "inherited" along with his diplomatic background and taste for rather risque entertainment. As was common in the transition, the previous host always had the predominant influence until the new host could sort through the jumble of memories and personalities enough to establish a unique voice; Curzon Dax had had a lifetime of thoroughly plunging himself into the pursuit of a good time, and Jadzia Dax still found the echoes of that life compelling. But she knew it would be best to wait for Kira to make the first move: the combination of the Bajoran's ambivalence and her own adjustment to once again being female (and a stunningly beautiful one, at that, which was yet another thing to get used to; Leila and Ardred had been very...maternal, to put it kindly) after over eighty years would be poor basis for a relationship.

Kira found it unsettling; she had never really been attracted to women before. True, Dax was not actually a "woman." 'But it's not the *worm* you're in love with, is it?' she scolded herself, too much of a pragmatist to try to justify an impulse just because it made her uncomfortable. Not that same-sex pairings were unheard of among her people; though not officially recognized as sacrosanct by the religious orders, most such unions were quietly accepted within their communities - there were far more pressing matters, such as finding food and shelter to survive, to worry about than who was sleeping with whom. Though for that matter her own relationships with men had rarely been more than briefly satisfying: it was difficult to commit deeply to someone who might be killed at any moment. So there had been the fleeting trysts to savor in what little privacy was afforded them, and then the equally brief partings. Few regrets, but few significant memories, either.

The turning point was the peculiar interlude in which the crew were compelled to reenact the power struggle of a long-extinct race. The officers' actions might have been dictated by the influence of the Saltah'na energy spheres, but their own personalities had not been entirely supplanted: approaching Dax in order to turn her against Sisko, Kira found her political recruitment somehow transforming itself into a clumsy attempt at seduction. A futile one, it turned out - Dax was unfathomably flighty, and Odo and Bashir eventually managed to isolate an interference frequency that drove out the energy matrix. But not their memories: when Kira thought about it later, her face grew hot remembering the pleasure she had taken in fitting her lips carefully to the prints left on the Trill's glass in the bar.

The reverberations and indecisions were still churning the day Dax asked Kira to teach her to play springball. They met in the station's gym, which O'Brien was installing in his spare time in a cavernous unused storage bay. After a few initially lopsided sets, Dax picked up the fundamentals and was soon beating Kira handily despite the Bajoran's superior athletic ability - Dax had an uncanny sense of where the ball would land and moved with deadly economy. They played until they were exhausted, then slumped to the floor panting, backs against a wall of the court, elbows resting on knees.

"I thought you said you'd never done this before," said Kira in between breaths, a little miffed; she had been regional champion as a teenager.

"Well, not quite, but it's sort of like racquetball without the rackets. A bit more violent, maybe," Dax said, ruefully eyeing the incipient bruises on her legs and arms.

"We didn't exactly have a lot to entertain ourselves with in the camps," Kira snapped, more harshly than she meant; immediately contrite, she continued in a more moderate tone of voice. "No one's really sure who invented it. Probably just started as a way to pass time, but since all you need are a couple of walls - which was usually what was left of most villages - and a ball, we played when we could. Held tournaments, too, when we weren't hiding or being bombed." Tournaments which were often contested just as grimly and desperately as any battle in the war, she remembered, engendering ill will among neighboring provinces; even their games had been indelibly marred by conflict. 'Damn the Cardassians.'

She clambered to her feet, to stretch out before she cooled off too much and stiffened up. As she stretched, her clothes clung to her, unpleasantly clammy; she had gotten about halfway through her routine before she noticed that Dax had not moved and was watching her intently.

Unnerved, she completed her moves awkwardly, acutely conscious of the blue-eyed laser beam. A strange humming began in the back of her head and crept forward, so that she could almost feel it in her teeth; her pulse quickened. 'Admit it, dammit - you want were hoping that she would...' A Terran expression O'Brien often used, which she had silently adopted to apply to the endless bureaucratic roadblocks that lumbered unhelpfully in the way of running the station, came suddenly to mind: 'Shit or get off the pot,' she told herself. Clearing her throat, she found herself saying in a tight voice she hardly recognized, "They haven't put in the showers yet. Come on--my quarters are closer." A beat. She held her breath. The sapphire eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, then relaxed, finding what they had been searching for.

She held out a hand to help Dax up and they walked out to the corridor together. Funny, she seemed to have lost the feeling below her knees - she had no sensation of her feet striking the floor. She was aware only of the ringing in her ears and the thrumming of her heart, not noticing even the Trill's gliding gait, which normally made her keenly aware of the brusqueness of her own stride.

Inside Kira's quarters, they undressed without a word. Kira, flustered, saw that the Trill's markings did indeed go "all the way down," then seemed to find a spot on the wall intensely fascinating. Piling her long hair into a chestnut mass on top of her head, Dax herded a compliant Kira into the cramped shower. Under the warm spray, Dax passed her the soap and scrubbed her back almost impersonally; she might have been washing a dog. Back in the bedroom, Dax briskly rubbed the Bajoran's head with a rough towel. Rumpled out of its usual military neatness, Kira's hair fell softly into her face, making her appear suddenly childlike and vulnerable - especially coupled with the huge, eloquent eyes that were wide with apprehension and longing, betraying the thousand niggling thoughts buzzing through her head: 'Why is she looking at me like that what is she waiting for why doesn't she say anything is there something wrong with me should I just kiss her oh gods what if this were all a huge mistake...' She moved stiffl forward, but was stopped by an outstretched hand.

"Wait. I want to see you," Dax whispered at last, and Kira obediently stood still in the light of the bedside lamp.

The Bajoran was deceptively slight, even after months of proper nutrition had filled out her former gauntness; the lean frame supported sinewy muscle that bunched and slid in easy athletic grace. Kira was rightly proud of her body, and it was not her nakedness that made her uncomfortable now - there had been little privacy in the refugee camps, after all, and her time in the Resistance had inured her to such niceties as modesty - but rather the target of Dax's gaze: five roughly raised parallel lines, clearly of deliberate origin, along the inner aspect of her left thigh.

Dax raised an eyebrow in mute query. Bashir had offered to remove Kira's many scars at her first medical exam, telling her earnestly that "elimination of the physical manifestations of trauma might help to resolve any residual psychological damage." Kira had snorted, but had taken him up on the offer; unlike many Bajorans, who wore their wounds and disfigurements like badges, she saw no need for constant reminders of what she had been through. Her memories and dreams were vivid enough - it was not likely that those would dissipate, as the rough patches of skin did after a few minutes under a dermal regenerator. But there was one area she would not let the doctor touch, and she had adamantly refused to explain why. Bashir for once had taken a hint and let the matter go, merely making a note of it later in his medical log.

"Tell me about them."

Kira started to protest, but was transfixed by the understanding and sorrow in Dax's face. Haltingly at first, then in a rush as the painful memories tumbled out, she found herself telling the story that no one else had ever heard: how, shortly after leaving Dakor Province to join the Resistance, she had stumbled into a Cardassian training camp; how she had been used to demonstrate methods of torture; and how the battalion leader had had her brought to his tent each night to rape her, marking her carefully afterwards with the jagged edge of his knife, which he heated to a glowing white over a plasma stove ("To prevent infection, my dear.")

There were five angry gashes in her leg before she managed to escape, ripping the skin from her wrists and hands when she finally slipped the manacles that bound her. Much later, when she returned to the camp with Shakaar's cell, she took great pleasure in killing the officer, slowly, with a belly wound inflicted by his own damned knife.

Years afterward, it was not the rape or the torture that caused her anguish, but rather that blood-lust which had consumed her: the cold, soul-deadening realization that she was a killer. It was then that she began to truly hate the war, hate that she actually enjoyed the murderous plotting and the adrenaline rush of danger that was all the life she had come to know. Chagrined, she turned to the half-forgotten faith of her childhood, clinging with desperation and renewed fervor to the enigmatic words of the Prophets. She began also for the first time to seek out stories of Bajor's ancient spiritual and intellectual heritage - stories that seemed like impossible fairy tales, but somehow comforted her anyway, gave her a quiet strength in thinking of what her world had once been. And she kept the scar now to remind herself of what she might have become.

Kira found herself cradled in the protective curve of Dax's arm, weeping as the awakened pain seared as hotly fresh as when it had been locked away in the dark recesses of her memory. Dax crooned soft nonsense sounds into Kira's hair, holding her closely until the convulsive sobs finally stopped. The Trill found a damp towel and wiped Kira's eyes with it, then held it to the dripping nose and said sternly, "Blow"; feeling a little foolish - although if anyone were going to treat her like a five-year-old, she supposed she didn't mind if it was Dax - Kira hiccupped and did as she was told.

It dawned on her suddenly that she was sitting with a naked woman on her bed, and she squirmed uneasily out of Dax's embrace. The Trill remained silent and unmoving, as though she had startled a deer that was on the verge of fleeing; she kept her eyes riveted on the Bajoran's expressive face, watching as reluctance warred with long-repressed desire. But love and implicit trust eventually pushed Kira over the edge into certainty; she took a deep breath, and leaned forward to kiss Dax.

It was completely different from kissing a man, she discovered at once: the cheek and lips that caressed her own were stupefyingly soft, and there was a strangely mirrorlike quality that heightened the intimacy: not like kissing one's reflection, but rather someone who knew subtly, precisely which feelings and emotions to evoke. Too soon, Dax broke off the kiss, silencing a protest with a finger to Kira's mouth; she nibbled gently along the jawline until she reached the most sensitive spot just beneath the ear. Using only her lips and teeth she deftly plucked the clan earring from its customary place and dropped it playfully in Kira's lap. She continued kissing down the slender corded neck, bit lightly where it joined the shoulder, and felt Kira go rigid when she moved past the collarbone to the soft flesh below.

Tense, Kira was still much too tense; the slim body fairly hummed. Dax gently pushed the Bajoran facedown on the bed and began rubbing the long planes of her back--not attempting to arouse her further, not yet, just stroking her as though soothing a child or an anxious cat; the Trill's cool hands quickly grew warm from the heat of Kira's body. After several moments, the taut muscles beneath the pale golden skin began to loosen and ripple in response to her touch, and the shallow, rapid breathing deepened and slowed. Dax gradually reached farther down, lingering at the firm rounded buttocks until they unclenched and sought to press upwards into her hands; then down the well-defined legs to the narrow ankles and feet. Pausing a moment to loose her hair from its clasp, Dax grasped each foot in turn and planted a kiss on the instep; slowly, allowing her long hair to trail like silken fingers, she kissed her way back up the inner sides of Kira's legs, stopping just short of the moist junction of the parted thighs. Then she sat back and watched, and waited.

Kira's eyes flew open. Tamed and curious now, she lay still, yielding when Dax gently rolled her over. Dax began to caress Kira's face with a touch so light her fingers trembled: along the delicately arched eyebrows and translucent temples, around the fine scrollwork of the ears, then across each ridge of the nose and down the strong line of the jaw, over and over, as though she were a blind sculptor memorizing their contours; finally, she traced the outline of the mouth until the swelling, quivering lips opened. Kira trembled, a trail of fire igniting her skin where the Trill's hands brushed.

Sensing Kira's growing hunger, Dax passed her hand with the same feather-light pressure between and along the undersides of the full high breasts. She retraced the path with her tongue, moving in concentric circles that teasingly approached but did not quite reach the firm brownish-pink nipples and punctuating the leisurely course with an occasional bite that elicited a sharp intake of breath. Dax lifted Kira's hands, imprisoning them above the Bajoran's head; she ran her fingers lightly up and down the tender insides of the arms, then without warning tickled the exposed armpits. Kira dissolved helplessly into laughter, then wriggled free of Dax's grip to hold her tightly and kiss her deeply, exploring the roof of the sweet mouth and trapping the Trill's dancing tongue with her own. Dax let her hair fall like a gleaming tent around them both, and they stayed locked in embrace for they knew not how long.

Gently disengaging herself, Dax once again moved down the Bajoran's body - but not touching or even kissing it this time, only hovering so that her breath just barely displaced the fine hairs of the achingly sensitized skin. The warm caress was frustratingly elusive; Kira arched her back, seeking contact, but Dax anticipated her movement and remained agonizingly out of reach. When she finally did touch Kira, it was only to press her hand lightly to the flat belly, just above the slightly coarse curls that were a shade darker than those on the Bajoran's head. Kira ground her teeth, but discovered that the seemingly innocuous pressure that drew her focus also delayed, delightfully, her awareness of her excitement: if she concentrated, she could almost *hear* the rippling of the deep muscles and the surging of her blood. Surrendering, she abandoned herself totally to whatever Dax was going to do next.

Dax took a moment to simply appreciate the sight of Kira's aroused sex. It was lovely, the tumescent lips of the glistening pink crevice converging upward into the erect clitoris, plump and red as a berry. The similarity of humanoids across the galaxy never failed to amaze her; there were any number of exceptions, of course, but this same basic design served a multitude of races. And the smell--that was universal, too, it seemed: the rich aroma of musk and salt and sweetness, of birth, of the sea. Sliding Kira down to the edge of the bed, Dax knelt on the floor between the unresisting legs; leaning on her elbows to hold the thighs open, she parted the red-gold hairs with her hands, then licked lightly, tantalizingly, just deep enough to taste the juices seeping from the opening.

The effect was electric - Kira bolted nearly upright. Dax waited patiently, until Kira lay back down. Dax bent forward and dipped her tongue in again, more deeply this time, exploring with varying speeds and pressures the sides of Kira's clit, revolving delicately around the ultrasensitive tip, then passing along the velvety skin of the inner labia to gently probe the rosy pucker of the anus. Kira meanwhile lay quietly but breathed hard, as if she had been running. Dax continued licking skillfully, then plunged her tongue in as deeply as it would reach, allowing it to undulate with slow, powerful surges against the pulsing walls that enclosed it. With a strangled cry, Kira convulsed, coming only halfway in a series of spasms that left her more aroused than satisfied, as Dax had intended.

"Please," Kira panted, "I need you....need...something...."

A corner of Dax's mouth quirked upwards, and she got up without a word and crossed the room. Kira heard a murmured command, then the whine of the replicator; then soft footsteps as Dax returned, carrying something in her hand.

Kira's dark eyes, dilated with passion, widened in curiosity as Dax showed her a strap-on dildo, amazingly lifelike but disappointingly small. Kira tried to hide her dismay at the diminutive size of the thing but merely watched as her friend slipped on and adjusted the toy...and gaped in astonishment as it rapidly thickened and lengthened into an enormous, pulsating, rock- hard cock.

"It's too big!" Kira exclaimed, fearful but with a sudden, overriding anticipation.

"Shhhh," said Dax, marveling at the dildo's cybernetic interface. It was an overwhelming sensation, as though a switch had been thrown and all her senses were now focused on and radiating from the lightning rod in her lap - a tangible reminder of what it was like to be male; she turned down the sensitivity relay so that she could concentrate more on Kira's pleasure than her own. "Don't worry--consider it a gift from me and Dr. Soong. Robotics expert," she added, noting Kira's puzzled expression. "Never mind."

With that Dax firmly lifted Kira to her feet and bent her over the bed, arranging pillows under her head and arms. She spread Kira's legs apart - so widely that she knew it would be uncomfortable, even for the very flexible Bajoran--and positioned the tip of the cock at the mouth of the dripping vagina; then slowly, slowly she slid it in. Kira gasped as it filled her, inch by inch, with Dax holding her tightly from behind so that she could not move. When it was all the way in, Dax tapped a small control; already large, the dildo grew thicker, impossibly so, stretching Kira almost to the point of pain - but she was so wet and so ready the pain seemed merely to add to her pleasure.

Dax began moving her hips: small movements, sometimes thrusting, sometimes making tiny circles. It was maddening - Kira wanted so much to scream for Dax to just fuck her, as hard as she could; but she forced herself to be still, to concentrate on the delicious tug and pull and the feel of the soft, warm breasts pressed to her back. Again and again, just as Kira reached the brink of orgasm, she felt Dax abruptly change direction or rhythm, or stop altogether, until the pounding pulse in her cunt had subsided to a dull throb; then the movements would start again. Finally, when she thought she could no longer bear the exquisite torture, she felt the cock begin to withdraw and thrust, and nearly sobbed in gratitude.

Dax pulled out almost all the way and then, securing her grip on Kira's hips, plunged forward. She thrust in and out frantically, long legs lifting Kira off the floor at each stroke, thighs slapping against Kira's buttocks so hard that the skin reddened and tingled.

"Gods, Jadzia!" Kira ground out in relief, breathing raggedly. "Oh yes...yes!" Words and conscious thought degenerated into a moaning howl that escalated as Dax reached around and played her fingers lightly and agilely over the swollen clit. Sweat poured from their bodies in rivulets that mingled with the juices of their combined excitement. Kira's thighs and buttocks shook with the strain of the involuntary clenching and tightening of her pelvic muscles; she could not breathe, and her heart hammered in her chest so that she could feel her pulse in her eyeballs. A cataclysmically overpowering wave swept through her, starting somewhere in the core of her being and roaring outward as she came so hard she lost consciousness...

...And awoke seconds? minutes? later to see Dax, propped up on an elbow, looking at her with an enigmatic expression but with laughing eyes. She rested nestled in Dax's arms, her palpating cunt fluttering and throbbing uncontrollably for long minutes afterward. 'I won't be able to walk straight for a week...but what the hell,' she thought, eagerly seeking Dax's mouth with her own...


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