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Closer	By : Death_Rattle Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 976 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Star Trek or any of the characters. I do not profit from my writing.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 1
Notes :
Credit to Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology by tinsnip for inspiration regarding Cardassian anatomy and reproduction. (link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) We wouldn't be here if I didn't know what Gul Dukat's junk looked like XD
Glossary of naughty words :
Ajan - genital slit
Vit - clitoris
Cho'ch - cock
Irllun - base of the cock, most sensitive part
...........................................

"I quite enjoyed myself, Ziyal," Dukat announced, now that the last of the party guests had said their goodbyes and left. "I hope you did as well."
Ziyal nodded. "I did, Father... only..." she trailed off.
"Only what?" he asked, regarding his daughter's glum look with some concern.
"Nerys," she said. "I wish Nerys had come to the party."
Dukat sighed. "Yes, I wish that, too. I'm sorry she didn't show up, Ziyal. I know how fond you are of Major Kira."
"Why do you think she didn't come?" she asked, innocently.
"I... I'm afraid I don't know," Dukat lied, knowing very well it was to do with him. "But don't let her spoil your night, my dear, hm? Smile for me, won't you?"
Ziyal's smile returned.
"There, that's a good girl," he praised, treasuring his daughter's smile. He wanted nothing more in this world than to see her happy, she deserved that after all she had been through.
"I'll tell you what, Ziyal," he said, a thought occurring to him all of the sudden. He could put off his work for a few more hours, he decided, it wouldn't do any harm. Anything to make Ziyal happy. "We'll have our own little... after party? Right here, just the two of us. Would you like that?"
She nodded, enthusiastically. "I'd like that very much!" Often, Ziyal longed to spend more time with her beloved father, he was so busy as of late and it was rare they got to just sit and talk anymore, the way they used to when they'd been aboard The Groumall.
"Good." Dukat said, looking toward the replicator and considering. No, replicated kanar wouldn't do, it was a piss-poor imitation of the real thing.
"I'll be right back," he told his daughter.
Ziyal said nothing, she just watched as her father disappeared into the adjacent room. She waited patiently for him to return, a smile still upon her face. She felt giddy, so very eager to see what the rest of the night had in store for her.
Dukat did not keep his daughter waiting long, he returned a few minutes later, without his chestplate and with an unopened bottle of kanar in hand.
He plopped down onto the nearby loveseat. "Come, sit with me" he said, gesturing to his right.
Ziyal happily sat down next to her father.
"Do you like kanar?" he asked, uncorking the bottle.
"I... I've never tried it before," she admitted, feeling a bit foolish that by twenty-one years of age, she'd never had so much as a single mouthful of what seemed to be every Cardassian's favorite beverage.
Dukat looked at her quizzically. "My own daughter has never tasted kanar?" he asked, incredulously.
"No..."
A pause.
"...but I have had Bajoran springwine!"
"Bajoran springwine!" he scoffed. "That's no drink for a Cardassian." Truthfully he very much enjoyed springwine himself... not that he would ever tell her that.
"Well, I'm only half a Cardassian," Ziyal reminded him.
"Technically, yes. But you're my daughter, therefore you're more than half," Dukat argued. He brought the bottle up to his face, first inhaling the aroma. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "You can always tell good kanar by the smell," he said, before taking a large swig. Then another.
He offered his daughter the bottle. "Here. You're going to love it, Ziyal, it's a fine vintage."
Reluctantly, she accepted his offering. Imitating her father, she too, brought it up to her nose and inhaled... it smelled horrible! She almost gagged. Thankfully though, she was able to restrain herself. She thought of refusing to drink it but no, she couldn't spoil the fun. She took a sip, again almost gagging. Kanar tasted even worse than it smelled, and burned something awful as it made its way down her throat.
"Well?" Dukat asked. "What do you think?"
"It's really good," she lied.
He smiled an honest smile, confident his daughter was more of a Cardassian than she gave herself credit for. "There, you see. I knew you'd like it. A father knows best, after all," he declared. "Well, go on, have some more."
Again, Ziyal thought of refusing but... well, she couldn't now, she'd lied and what's more, her lie seemed to make her father happy. She supposed, if it made him happy and it gave her the chance to be closer to him, then it was all worth it. She would endure the awful drink.
This time, she braced herself and took a large gulp, which unfortunately made her cough.
Dukat laughed a little and patted her on the back. "Not so much at once, Ziyal, hm?"
She laughed, too. "Sorry," she said, unsure why exactly she was apologizing. It just seemed the right thing to do.
"No need to apologize. We're having fun, remember?" he replied, wanting to hear Ziyal's laugh again, what a glorious sound it was.
Smiling, he looked over at her, and watched her take another drink. Momentarily, he was taken aback, her profile reminded him so much of her mother – everyone always said Ziyal looked like him and ordinarily he was inclined to agree. Right now though, he saw so much of Naprem in her, it wounded him... he missed her.
"Watcha thinking about?" Ziyal asked, turning to face her father, regarding him with mild concern. He had this strange look about him, she'd never seen it before.
Dukat let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in. "It's nothing important..." He smiled again, taking the bottle back from her. "...you know, you really do look beautiful in that dress, it fits you perfectly," he complimented, changing the subject. And he wasn't lying. It may not have been bought for her but it didn't matter, she was a vision, truly.
Ziyal couldn't help but to crack a smile as well. "You're just saying that because I'm your daughter!" she accused, playfully. "All fathers think their daughters are beautiful."
He took another drink himself then said "I'm serious, Ziyal. And it's a good thing you are my daughter, all the men would be chasing after you if not for that."
Ziyal spoke before thinking. "If that were true, that I'm as pretty as you say I am, nobody would care who my father is. That never stopped Garak-" The instant his name rolled off her tongue, she regretted it.
Dukat snorted. "Garak," he repeated, as though the name were a curse. One of these days, he'd hunt that man down and kill him! "Who does he think he is, putting his hands on you! He'll be sorry, mark my words."
"But he didn't put his hands on me! He was a perfect gentleman. We kissed, that's all." She hoped that would assuage her father, she didn't want their night to be ruined because of Garak, of all people. "I never really liked him anyways," she added. It was the truth, she'd only ever pursued him because she knew it would upset her father.
"Oh?" Dukat questioned. That, he had not been aware of.
"I was just using him to make you mad," she admitted, looking down at her feet now instead of at him. "I liked the attention, and it felt good to know that, well... you cared about me."
Dukat's expression softened some. So all along, she had just been trying to prove that he cared? "Ziyal, of course I care about you," he reassured, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I love you more than anything in the world."
"Oh, Daddy!" she exclaimed, hugging him tight. "I love you too! More than anything!"
Dukat gladly returned her embrace, pulling Ziyal into his lap, the way he used to when she was little.
"Do you remember when I used to hold you like this?" he spoke into her ear.
"I remember," she whispered. She never wanted him to let her go, she felt like a child again, safe and warm in his strong arms. "You'd hold me until I fell asleep..." She breathed in his scent, after all these years it was still the same.
"...and then I'd put you to bed, tuck you in, and kiss you goodnight."
It was funny, he had seven other children and yet, he was never so... affectionate with them. Only Ziyal. Perhaps it was because he couldn't see her as often as he'd have liked when she was growing up, or perhaps it was simply because she was his favorite (sometimes he did feel guilty for having a favorite but all parents did, he knew, some were just more upfront about it than others).
He hugged her tighter and she nuzzled him, then all of the sudden, Dukat felt something stir below the belt.
"Daddy, what-?" Ziyal questioned, alarmed at the sensation of a hard, firm thing jutting into her soft body. Was that... what she thought it was?
Then, before she knew it, her father pressed his lips to hers. With one hand on her neck, and the other resting upon the small of her back, he kissed her, his tongue forcing its way past her lips, questing until it found hers. It was nothing like the way Garak had kissed her, he was so gentle, but her father, he kissed her like he was claiming her.
She whimpered into his mouth, the sound muffled. She wasn't stupid, she knew fathers were not supposed to kiss their daughters like this. And yet, for some reason, she started to kiss him back, gripping his broad shoulders, swirling her tongue, trying to imitate what he was doing (as she had very little experience, it was all she could do).
When the hand that was on her back slid down to her ass, she let out another little cry...
...and that was when he stopped. Dukat broke the kiss, practically shoving Ziyal off him.
"I-I'm sorry," he sputtered, the shame washing over him like water. "I don't know what came over me, I just..." he trailed off, too ashamed to even look at her. Nerys was right, he was disgusting, depraved... his own daughter?!
"It's okay!" Ziyal exclaimed, seemingly breathless. "It's okay, Daddy." She clasped his hand in hers. He was lonely, she understood perfectly well. And not just that, he was heartbroken. Her mother, the woman he loved, was gone and his wife wanted nothing to do with him. Plus there was the war, too, it was a very difficult time for him, difficult and confusing...
...and, well, if she were being honest, she had actually liked kissing him.
"I..." she hesitated, unsure of whether or not she should tell him that. It felt wrong to even think, much less admit but... maybe it would make him feel better if he knew?
"I liked it."
A moment of silence and stillness passed.
That was just about the last thing he had been expecting her to say. She was supposed to yell at him, slap him, call him disgusting and perverted! Anything but tell him she liked it! If she liked that, perhaps she'd like-
No, no, he couldn't let himself entertain the thought... the thought of him on top of her, making her squeal and writhe beneath him as he-
He jerked his hand away and shook his head, as if to rid himself of the (admittedly very pleasant) mental image.
"I-I think I've had too much to drink," he finally said, setting the not even half-empty bottle of kanar down on the loveseat, in between them. Truthfully, he felt a slight buzz, nothing more, he just needed to get away from her before he did something incredibly stupid.
"I'm going to bed, you should do the same, Ziyal." He stood up from where he had been sitting and turned to leave.
Before he could though, Ziyal grabbed his arm. "Wait!" Then she, too, stood up. And something, she didn't know what, compelled her to kiss him again. Slowly, she leaned in, standing on her toes. He met her halfway, bringing his head down, his lips crashing into hers, locking her in a passionate kiss.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moaned into his mouth. She could still taste the kanar on his tongue, she was sure she tasted of it as well. For some reason though, it didn't bother her.
As her father gripped her waist and started to move her backward, she felt her head spin – the alcohol was getting to her, as she rarely drank, her tolerance was low. She felt warm and tingly, too, all over. She didn't even offer any resistance as she was pushed into the nearby wall, and her father's hands slid up to her chest.
Cupping her firm breasts through the thin silk, Dukat stopped kissing Ziyal, nipping at her lower lip before turning his attention to her wonderfully sensitive neck scales. As he peppered them with kisses and gentle nibbles, she moaned softly, it was music to his ears.
He was like a man possessed, he couldn't stop.
He pushed his knee in between her legs, and she ground her clothed ajan into his muscular thigh, seemingly instinctually.
"Daddy" Ziyal panted. She did not know whether it was a plea for respite, or for more. A thousand emotions swirled around in her head, like a maelstrom, she was breathless, speechless, overcome by the strange feelings in both her mind and her body – no one had ever kissed her or touched her like this, not once. It was all happening so fast, too...
"Yes, my sweet girl?" he hummed against her neck, his hot breath making her shiver involuntarily. He squeezed her breasts harder now, kneading them, brushing his thumbs over her nipples – like a Bajoran woman, hers protruded, and were not obscured by scales.
As he slid the straps of her gown down her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts to the cool nighttime air, the magnitude of what they were doing hit her like a punch to the gut.
"We... We can't do this" she said, rather unconvincingly, crossing her arms, trying to cover herself.
"And who says we can't, Ziyal?" Dukat asked, his voice deceptively gentle. "Hm?" He ran his hands over her thighs, her hips, then back up toward her chest. "You're a woman grown, you can do whatever you want..." He took hold of her arms and forced them down against her sides. "...with whoever you want."
Who made up these stupid rules, anyhow? They were both adults, he wasn't holding a phaser to her head. Why was there something inherently wrong with two Cardassians who happened to be related enjoying one another in a... biological sense?
Now that it was finally happening, Dukat realized he'd been wanting to do this for longer than he cared to admit.
"It just... feels..." she stammered, her stomach twisting in knots as he once again cupped her breasts, giving them several appreciative kisses, in turn. "Ungh... ngh-ah... ugh..." As he flicked his tongue over her now hardened nipples, he brought all manner of unwilling sounds from her throat, and she started to rock her hips, desperate to relieve the weird, tingly sensation in her special places. She'd felt it before, a few times, but it had never been quite so intense.
Dukat smiled to himself, she was so responsive – he liked that about inexperienced women.
"What does it feel like, Ziyal?" he rasped, lowering his leg and slipping one of his hands beneath her dress, up, up, until it reached her slit. Then, he started to rub her there, through her underwear, which were dampened with arousal.
"Mm-haaah!" she moaned, grinding and bucking her hips, trying to get more out of his touch.
It felt like this was a line they shouldn't be crossing, it felt like a tightening in her belly, a lump in her throat... but also like something she had been missing her whole life, stoking the fire within her that was burning hotter every second.
"It feels wonderful," she said softly, her voice just a bit louder than a whisper.
She didn't even have to say it, he knew what he was doing to her – he'd been told he was an excellent lover by many women, Cardassian and Bajoran alike.
"Let's get this off you now," he growled, impatient, tugging at her gown again.
"Wait, can we..?" she sputtered. If they were going to do this, it was not going to be here, awkwardly against the wall, in the middle of the living room. "...can you take me to bed?"
Dukat laughed a little, his expression softening. Of course, he wanted to take her right there but he understood that to women, this wasn't a primal, animalistic urge. Rather, it was something romantic, an expression of love.
"Anything you want, my dear," he answered, looking into her eyes.
"Come" he said, taking her hand, leading her to his bedroom.
For the moment, Ziyal stood there, taking in her surroundings as her father switched on the lights, closed the door, and fluffed the pillows.
She'd never actually seen his bedroom on the station before, it looked just about how she'd expected it to though. Sterile, sparsely furnished, very little color.
"Let me help you."
Tentatively, Dukat approached his daughter, first moving her dark hair (which had been left mostly down) out of the way, over her shoulder, then reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress. With relative ease, it came undone, then all he had to do was pull at the garment a bit and it slipped down, pooling at her feet.
As Ziyal turned to face him, her heart was pounding. No one had ever seen her, well... naked. She was uncomfortable with it, to say the least. Like most women her age, she sometimes worried if she was too fat (or too skinny), if certain areas of her body were not the right shape or size.
Her fears were somewhat abated though when she saw her father crack a smile, his eyes roving over her body. "These will have to come off, too," he said, hooking his fingers around the waistband of her underwear, his voice effortlessly smooth. Had she known this was going to happen, she'd have worn something prettier. What she did have on was so plain and boring...
Not that it mattered to Dukat. By the time he got to this point with a woman, all he cared about was getting her clothes off, he couldn't care less what kind of underwear she had on – they joined the pool of blue silk, without a sound.
"Get on the bed," he whispered, harshly, his tone making it clear that it was not a request.
Without question, she obeyed, shivering slightly as her bare back made contact with the cold sheets, soft black hair fanning out over the pillows.
Dukat took a moment simply to admire the beautiful girl in his bed, his lustful gaze drinking in her gentle curves, burning the image into his mind.
Then he, too, undressed, with a mild urgency.
As Ziyal had never seen a naked man before, she watched with abject fascination... until she saw his... man part. It was considerably larger than she thought it would be, so long and thick and... aggressive looking. At this point, she had to wonder whether or not it would even fit.
Before she could resist though, he joined her in his bed.
Smiling down at her, Dukat reached out to touch his daughter again.
Owing to the fact that she was half Bajoran, her skin was so much softer and warmer than his own – he'd always rather liked that about Bajoran women. His comparatively rough hands skimmed over her narrow hips, descending onto her bare thighs... and that was when he noticed she was trembling.
"You're shaking," Dukat said, somewhat perturbed. Was she afraid of him?
"I..." Ziyal stammered. "...I'm just a little nervous, I guess." It was the truth, this was a big step for her. And not just that, she was in bed with her own father! It wasn't right, she knew it wasn't right-
He kissed her, interrupting her train of thought. "Don't be, you have nothing to worry about," he reassured.
"It's just, I've never... you know..?"
"I know, it's alright."
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
"Would you like it to?" he offered, hopeful.
"No!" she exclaimed, momentarily horrified.
Dukat let out a small chuckle. "Then it won't. No, this won't hurt at all, sweet girl... I promise." His fingers traced the protective scaling of her ajan. Any way she wanted it was fine with him, so long as he got to partake. "I'm going to take good care of you. Do you trust me?"
She nodded. "Yes."
As she was sufficiently- more than sufficiently aroused, she was very well lubricated, and his fingers slipped inside with ease, questing until they found her vit, making her gasp audibly. It was very, very sensitive he knew, so he was gentle, beginning with soft rubs, then forming light circles.
If it was any other girl, he would be fucking her already but this was Ziyal, his sweet daughter, and it was her first time. Her first time wasn't something to waste on a quick fuck.
"I want you to cum for me, Ziyal," he said, his ears delighting at the sound of her little whimpers and moans as he toyed with her vit.
"I-I don't know how to-"
"Just relax," Dukat interrupted. "Relax, close your eyes, focus on how good it feels..."
Ziyal took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, letting the tension in her neck and shoulders go. Closing her eyes, as her father said, she tried to block out everything save for the amazing feeling of his skilled fingers rubbing and circling what she never knew existed until this night – she'd spent her formative years working in those awful mines, it wasn't like there was anyone around to teach her this stuff!
Soon, her exhale turned to low, throaty moans, and she started to buck her hips, involuntarily.
"That's it..." soothed the voice of her father.
Then the most magnificent thing happened. It felt like she was on fire down there, then like she was exploding, waves of white hot electricity surging throughout her helpless body.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes tighter, gripping the sheets. "Ah-haaaAAAAaaaah!"
As she clamped down around his fingers, and screamed to the heavens, he almost lost it right there – almost. Luckily, he was able to hold back, and save that for later... well, not too much later.
Ziyal was a panting, sweaty, shaking mess as he took hold of her thighs and spread them apart, positioning her to his liking. Lost in a post-orgasmic haze, she didn't even register him mounting her, hooking his hands beneath her knees as he lifted her legs a bit and lined up the tip of his proudly everted cho'ch, which was throbbing and dripping with need, with her hot, tight little ajan.
"Time to make you a woman."
His voice alerting her, she shot up from the pillows, leaning on her elbows.
"Wait!"
"Hush, Ziyal," he growled, pushing her back down, one thing and one thing only on his mind.
There was a look in his eyes she didn't like, it frightened her a bit.
Noting her expression, he changed his own, his snarl forming into a small smile instead, his predatory eyes turning soft and expressive as they stared into Ziyal's.
That made her relax some.
"It's going to feel amazing," he declared.
"I-"
Before she could tell her father she wasn't quite ready for this yet, he thrust inside her in one swift, well-practiced motion, causing her to cry out.
"See?" he said, smugly, lurching forward until he was all the way inside, his cho'ch bumping against her vit and the lips of her ajan closing around his almost painfully sensitive irllun, making him shudder with pleasure. A perfect fit, it was as if they were made to be together in this way. "It doesn't hurt at all, does it?"
She didn't answer him, she just held onto him, moaning and writhing as he flicked his hips.
Drawing himself downward, he held her too, tightly, and lowered his head so he could speak into her ear. "How does it feel, Ziyal? Tell me.." he hissed.
"I-It feels s-so good," she barely managed, as he sunk his teeth into one of the scales near the base of her neck.
He couldn't agree more, it was almost surreal, it was that good – he could hardly believe this was even happening. Increasing his pace a bit (not intentionally, he was losing himself), his hands moved from her shoulders to her bouncing breasts, squeezing them hard, then tweaking her excited nipples.
"Daddy!" Ziyal whimpered, that fiery sensation building yet again, and fast. At this point, she was wholly incapable of materializing coherent thoughts, between the feeling of him inside her, his calloused fingers pinching her nipples, and the still-lingering buzz of kanar, she was completely overwhelmed.
"Yes, my sweet?" he panted against her neck, dreamily content. Groaning happily, he bucked his hips, faster, harder, trying always to feel the friction on his irllun.
"I-I'm gonna-!" She climaxed, sharp and sudden, gasping for air like a fish out of water in between cries of ecstasy, flailing beneath the much larger, stronger man who was rutting her with reckless abandon – until he, too, came.
With a grunt, Dukat spilled his seed into his daughter, then it was over.
For a while, he wasn't sure how long, he laid there, on top of Ziyal, practically crushing her into the bed, reeling from all that had just happened.
"Daddy, I can't-"
Suddenly alarmed, he pulled out and moved to lie down next to her.
A long moment of silence (save for the sound of panting breaths) passed before he finally spoke.
"Ziyal?"
"Hm?"
"You..." Dukat hesitated momentarily. "You can't tell anyone. About us."
"I know."
That night, Ziyal stayed there with her father and she swore, it was the happiest she'd ever been in her life. Finally, they were together, in every sense of the word.
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