A/N: It's been too long since I last published a Weyoun story, so here's a little one. I may continue; it depends on my mood! Enjoy! This is set during the Dominion occupation of Deep Space Nine, between 'A Call to Arms' and 'Sacrifice of Angels'.
"What are you doing here?"
His words suggested anger but his voice was quiet, wavering, as if he was confused, worried, even. The Vorta cocked his head to one side, studied her, observed her, as if she were some laboratory specimen. Then he spoke again. "Who sent you?"
She giggled, looked down at her manicured hands, then regarded him firmly. "Oh, no one sent me." She began to step over to him, crossing the distance between herself and him. "If you can believe it, I came here of my own accord."
"I'm not sure that I entirely understand," he started, pausing for thought. "But I won't give you the satisfaction of mocking me. I'll give you one minute to explain yourself before I call my guards."
His threat was empty to her. She shrugged. "I don't need a minute."
"They're Jem'Hadar soldiers. They won't listen to reason, to argument. You'll be completely at their mercy."
"Oh," she said, her voice but a whisper. Weyoun hadn't noticed but she was now standing barely inches away from him. "I'd rather be at yours."
With a sigh, she lowered her lashes. "I saw you at Quark's," she said simply. "The way that you dealt with that swaggering Dukat and his contemptuous little aide, whatever his name is… well, it impressed me."
It was obvious that Weyoun didn't entirely understand what she was talking about. "Damar, that's his name."
She snorted. "Whatever."
Weyoun continued. "But you're human… aren't you? Why would you wish to socialise with a member – the chief adjutant to the Founder herself – of the Dominion?" He frowned, was confused and irritated.
She elaborated. "Yes, I'm human. But no, I don't want to enjoy the Dominion." She smiled, her teeth brilliant white, her lips deep red. "I was just so very impressed by your calmness, your control, that I thought that I'd investigate for myself."
"Yes," she said, a mischievous smile dancing upon her lips. "You have to understand that the encryption system to your quarters wasn't really that difficult to hack."
"What is your name?"
"Lorelei," she whispered. "Are you going to add me to some sort of database?"
He snorted. "Possibly. But that can wait."
She smiled, wondered if he was beginning to understand.
"I have business to attend to. Business concerning that Founders, which, incidentally, is nothing to do with you."
"I'm not interested in that. I'm interested in you."
Once again, she smiled. With a wry look, she stepped forward, took a brunette tendril of her hair and twirled it around her finger. She blew air through her lips. "Surely a man as handsome as you can't be that stupid?"
"I am not stupid," he said. Though he was battling to retain his control, he sounded defensive.
Then she placed a hand to his cheek, held it there, feeling the surprising warmth of his skin. She saw that his face had reddened, so she took her hand away.
"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable," she started, though she didn't sound terribly apologetic.
"You didn't," he quipped. "I was simply alarmed."
"Then, I'm sorry for alarming you." The gentle, steady hum of Deep Space Nine's engines were, for some time, the only sound in the room. Lorelei cast her gaze over Weyoun's shoulder and towards the large window; she gazed at the stars and wondered. Then she caught his eye.
He seemed to understand. At last. "Whatever you're thinking, you can stop it. I am loyal to the Founders. I cannot be swayed as easily as Dukat or Damar."
No, she thought ruefully. You can't.
"You see, the Vorta are clones," he carried on, his voice soft but still somehow threatening, dangerous. "We have no need to mate."
"Mate?" she repeated, nearly laughing. Her breath caught in her throat. "Now, don't you think that you're jumping the gun a little bit?"
She groaned. "This is harder than I thought," she murmured. "So I'll give you credit for that. I mean, Weyoun, you didn't think that I dressed like this every day, did you?"
He glanced down at her and allowed himself a proper look at her form. Her curves, her fire, were outlined in red silk; the neckline was low and the hem fell to her feet. She was beautiful, shining, though he couldn't see that. He cleared his throat, caught her gaze, his purple eyes intense. He knew what she was doing, as she stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his cheek, but he didn't turn away, nor did he stop her.
Before he knew it, she was moving away from him, towards the door. He followed her, caught her wrist. A smile settled upon her features when she turned around and regarded him.
"You want me to stay?"
He said nothing, but waited for her to take his hand. She put it to her face and he cupped her chin, regarding her with a look that more suggested desire than curiosity. Silently, gently, she touched her lips to his. The kiss was brief, almost intangible, but she had barely pulled back before he had wrapped his hands around her waist, holding her against him.
"The Founders don't prohibit you from loving?" she asked, genuinely interested.
"No," he said. Then he kissed her. Again.
"But you cannot appreciate me?"
"My species cannot appreciate aesthetics. It wasn't considered important."
"Oh, it's important," she countered, between kisses. "You see… I think that you're handsome. You're intriguing, Weyoun. That's why… well… I'm here."
"I find many people intriguing, but I do not—"
She held a finger to his lips, hushed him. "That's not exactly what I mean. Perhaps that was the wrong word."
"It has been my experience so far that people – females, especially – don't react that way to me." He was surprised at the readiness with which he had said that.
"But I do." She kissed his ear and her warm breath against his face made him shiver. His hands held the small of her back, holding her to him; he could feel the suppleness of her skin, the curves of her body, through the gauzy fabric.
She could feel the eagerness of his hands; he wanted her and she knew it. Releasing herself from his caresses, she followed his gaze to a door. She soon found that it led to the sleeping quarters. The room held nothing but a bed and a small chest of drawers; she had expected nothing more, nothing less, from a diplomat.
Lorelei went over to the bed. "Close your eyes."
He frowned, appeared affronted for a moment. But he complied.
She shimmied out of the dress, leaving the red garment folded over the edge of the bed. "You can open your eyes now."
He did so.
She was waiting for him. Soon enough, the pair of them were entangled in the bedsheets.
Weyoun's eyes flickered open. He was confused. He hadn't remembered going to bed. He could hear someone else's breathing, quiet and steady. He rolled over and saw her; Lorelei was sleeping peacefully, soundly, next to him. After a few moments, she, too, woke up, smiled. Then she shifted close to him, kissed him.
"How long have you been watching me?" she asked, smiling wryly.
He seemed somewhat startled by her question. "Not long."
She gave a short laugh, then slid out of the bed. He watched as she walked, naked, to the bathing quarters. "You don't mind if I use your sonic shower, do you?"
He had barely said 'Yes' before she had turned the shower on, stepped in and emerged a few minutes later. She came in and stepped back into the dress, seeing that he had also taken the time to dress.
"You're leaving?" he asked, sounding ever so slightly perturbed, offended.
She smiled. "I can't stay. You, I'm sure, have places to be."
"The Founder has not requested my presence," the Vorta said nonchalantly. "To visit her unannounced would be rude. Besides, I don't want you to leave."
"I can always come back." She stepped over to him, kissed him, ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "Goodbye, Weyoun."
She was greeted by two Jem'Hadar soldiers upon exiting the quarters. After conferring silent with one another, they stepped aside and let her pass.
"Goodbye, Lorelei," Weyoun muttered, though she had already gone.
Lorelei cleared her throat, gave the Jem'Hadar soldiers a 'thank you' regardless of whether or not they would actually understand it. The she found herself in the Habitat Ring of Deep Space Nine. Since the Dominion takeover, the station's corridors had gotten darker, hotter, reflecting the preferred climate of the Cardassians. The one constant was Quark's. So, with the station's engines rumbling beneath her feet, she made her away to the Promenade.
She took up an empty seat next to a Lurian and waved the Ferengi bartender over. He had a disgruntled look on his face. "Yes?" he asked.
"I'll have a raktajino, please," she said.
She handed him the latinum and he gave her a rather insincere snaggle-toothed smile, then turned away to get her order. Raktajino now in hand, she began to think, her train of thought interrupted only by the intermittent calls of 'Dabo!' from the nearby tables.
That was until someone pulled up a chair next to her. The Lurian had apparently gone and she realised that it was just her and the stranger at the bar. Except he wasn't a stranger.
"Damar," she said curtly, giving her coffee her entire attention.
The Cardassian grunted, sipped at his kanar. "What are you doing here?"
Raising an eyebrow, she settled her gaze not on his face but on the glass in his hand. He noticed and narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to answer my question?"
"I may be human but I'm not your prisoner."
"I wouldn't want you to be my prisoner."
Silence washed over them as they sipped at their drinks. Lorelei sighed. "I was with Weyoun, if you must know."
Damar raised an eyeridge, held back a chortle.
Lorelei watched as he finished his glass and poured himself another one. The bottle ran dry. Then she turned her attentions back to her raktajino, before realising that Damar was studying her with more curiosity than she would've liked.
"What is it?" she asked with a sigh.
"I'm just surprised that you've survived a whole night with that Vorta."
"Who said that it was a whole night?" she snapped. "Jealous?"
"I'd sooner be jealous of you." And with that, he downed the last of his kanar and strolled back up to Ops.
Lorelei didn't watch after him, but instead saw that Quark had grown quite anxious. She soon realised why.
"I'll have a bowl of rippleberries, with a side-order of kava nuts."
She recognised that voice, singsong and yet somehow threatening.
The Ferengi grunted, turned to the replicator and keyed in some commands. Then he turned back and faced Weyoun. "We're all out of kava nuts."
Weyoun narrowed his eyes. "It's a replicator."
"Excuse me," Quark muttered, barely deigning to look the Vorta in the eye. "But there's been a malfunction of sorts. You can just have the rippleberries." He slapped the bowl in front of the Vorta.
"Are you going to pay for that?"
Weyoun smiled. "You can put it on my tab."
The Ferengi glared at him then trudged over to some of his more forthcoming customers, a look of irritation seemingly permanently etched into his face. Then he stared in disbelief as Weyoun left his establishment, sauntered through the Promenade, bowl in hands.
"Hey!" he yelled. "You can't just walk out of her with the crockery!"
Lorelei thought about offering the Ferengi some sort of an apology, but she ultimately decided not to. It wasn't her responsibility. But, bumping into several Dabo girls and Cardassian officers, not to mention the odd Jem'Hadar, she caught up with the Vorta.
"You didn't even say hello to me," she said, finally catching up with him.
"Hello." He continued to eat handfuls of the berries.
She sighed, then took one of the berries. As soon as she popped it in her mouth, she screwed up her nose in disgust. It was perhaps the sweetest thing that she had ever tasted, cloying and sugary.
The corridors of Deep Space Nine were long and dark but she managed to follow the Vorta until they came to what she seemed to remember were his quarters.
"I must prepare for my meeting with the Founder," Weyoun announced, waving the two Jem'Hadar soldiers to one side. He stepped in between the aliens and through the door.
Lorelei was about to follow him when the soldiers thrust their disruptors in front of her, forming a barrier. She sighed.
Weyoun waved a nonchalant hand and the soldiers relaxed, letting her through.
"When is your meeting?" she asked, as the doors slid shut behind them.
"In an hour's time."
An hour? She grinned, took the bowl from his hands and set it down on a table. Then she looped her arms around his neck, drew him to her height and kissed him.
"An hour it is, then."