Damar waited at the airlock, but Weyoun shook his head. "Leave. I'll communicate with you when you arrive on Cardassia."

The cardassian frowned, but he knew who was in charge. He turned around and got on the ship.

Odo stared at the Vorta who turned to him and bowed. He sighed and muttered irritably. "Did you want to say something to me?"

"I do. Actually, it is a request."

"What is it?"

"I would ask that you ... keep me."

"Keep you?" Odo frowned at the gentle-eyed Vorta.

"If you don't keep me, the founders will destroy me when I return to Cardassia. I beg you, Odo." Weyoun pleaded. "Please. I'll be an obedient and loyal slave to you."

"I don't know." Odo shook his head. "I have no use for a slave."

"It is all I know. I am a Vorta. The Founders are my gods. I *must* serve. But when I return, having delivered my message, having failed in my last mission, I will be destroyed. And if that is my fate so be it, but... I know you are a good man. I could serve you, Odo. I would be glad to serve you. And the founders would not interfere since you are one of their brethren. They would see it as natural. I know you find it hard to understand them but they might even find you keeping me as a hopeful sign."

"A hopeful sign of what?"

"That you are exerting your godhood."

"I have no intention of doing that."

"But they would not know that. I would serve you here. If you agree, I would say you asked for me to serve you. This they understand. To them, you would be my master. None would be the wiser."

"This sounds like a trick to me. How do I know you aren't spying for them?"

"I am a Vorta, you are a Founder. I cannot lie to a Founder about anything, Odo."

"You've always been awfully familiar with me, Weyoun. Funny habit for a slave." Odo said thoughtfully.

"I beg forgiveness, my lord. You are right."

Odo snorted. "I'm no lord."

"I will call you anything you desire. If you choose me to stay, I will be your slave. I will call you 'master' with great joy."

"I'm not sure I like that either, but..."

Weyoun waited but Odo said nothing, merely studying him. He could tell the changeling didn't trust him. He held up his hands, palms up.

"Ask me anything. Test me in any way."

"Exactly how would the founders destroy you if you returned to them?"

"They would not destroy me."

"You said they would."

"They would ask for my death and I would give it to them."

"How?"

Weyoun's gentle voice grew softer. "Poison. I would debase myself in their presence for my worthlessness, beg their forgiveness for not meeting their expectations, then I would swallow poison."

"Why poison?"

Weyoun's smile was sweet despite the tears that were now filling his eyes. "This poison was specially designed by our scientists. The first thing it digests is the vocal cords. Once ingested I would...I would sew my lips together with a surgical sealer. Then I would die in agony as the poison digests my inner organs and continues to digest me until there would be nothing left, not even dust, so as not to leave the Founders with a messy body to dispose of."

"Why seal your lips shut?" Odo asked in dismay.

"I would not wish to disturb the peace of any Founder with my cries of agony. It is why the vocal cords are destroyed first. The poison is quite potent. No antidote exists. Not even for the Vorta who are immune to all other forms of poison. It is why I give thanks my compatriot, Keevan, succumbed before returning to the Dominion." Weyoun bowed his head respectfully. "His death would have been most frightful to watch. All Vorta field commanders are required to witness such a death."

Odo frowned. "Why would your scientists design such a poison?"

"It was a gift our scientists gave to the Founders after our world was conquered by the Dominion. It is our life to serve them. It is all that gives us meaning and by presenting them with this compound, we pledged our fealty."

Odo kept staring at him and Weyoun's heart began to beat very hard, very fast as he waited for the answer. He very much wanted to remain, not just remain alive, but to learn this founder, this god, and to be his helpmate. He had wanted to meet him since he'd heard of him and to his joy he'd been chosen by the Founders to meet him. Then his joy had been shattered when he'd been chosen to deliver an infection that would make Odo sick, make him return to the Great Link against his will. He had done it, but it had hurt his predecessor terribly. Even now his eyes filled with tears at the passed-on memory from his former clone. That Weyoun had died gratefully after having to do such a despicable thing to a founder. Now he had a chance to make it up to Odo ... to the beautiful god whose chosen eye color he had been so proud to discover was the same as his own.

"I'm still not sure."

The tears in Weyoun's eyes suddenly slipped free but he said nothing, just nodded. His voice was soft, but clear. "I understand. Forgive me for intruding on your time, my founder."

Odo straightened and sighed again, obviously reluctant. "I accept your fealty to me. You can stay."

The bitter tears were replaced by happy ones. "Oh, my dear Founder!"

Odo stepped back. "I'll find a place for you on the station, Weyoun. But not as my slave."

"I'll gladly serve as your footstool if you so desire."

Odo snorted. "That won't be necessary. For now you can be my valet."

"Yes, my liege."

"Don't call me that."

"My founder?"

"Too pointed."

"So right. It is only right I call you 'master'."

"The Federation doesn't allow the practice of slavery, Weyoun."

"You will be 'master' in my heart, no matter what you ask me to call you."

"Odo will do."

Weyoun straightened. "I'll be no trouble at all, my dear Odo."

"That remains to be seen."

Soon enough, Odo realized what a useful thing a slave was. He hardly had to ask Weyoun anything, and the Vorta was at his beck and call. He thought it would make him uncomfortable. If anything it made him start to realize why the founders lived as they did and chose Vorta as their slaves. It was very useful having someone do all the little things that were so time-consuming.

The rest of the station personnel hardly noticed. Soon enough they got used to seeing Weyoun instead of Odo or the Vorta running Odo's errands. Security was soon catching up with the backlog of tedious data-entry chores.

For Weyoun it wasn't nearly enough. He *loved* Odo. He didn't know when it happened, but he didn't feel it was just gratitude. He dreamed of him and longed for him each day. When Odo nodded his satisfaction with his work, he thought he might burst from happiness. When Odo's brow furrowed or he looked troubled, Weyoun tried hard to figure out how to help him. And when Odo looked at him in that hard way, with suspicion or anger, Weyoun felt his heart shrink.

Occasionally he noted Odo looking at someone else on the station with great fondness or affection. On those days he felt himself hot with envy for whoever it was, Kira or Bashir or Garak. He would imagine himself to be them and longed for the day Odo trusted him. It was all he knew, all he could hope for. To imagine more was folly. And yet...

When he couldn't sleep, he found himself taking his hard pearly-green cock in hand and stroking it, imagining his beautiful master fucking him, *hard*, making him do every debasing thing he could imagine all out of love for him.

Soon enough his thick, hot silvery cum would run down his fingers while he bit back his moans of ecstacy. Then burying his face into his pillow as the hot tears ran down them, he would whisper the secret words.

He imagined his lips softly brushing his masters chest, or shoulders as he spoke. "Odo, my precious, my only ... my darling master."

Despite his fantasies, he knew Odo would never touch *him*. And why should he? He was merely a Vorta, a lowly slave unworthy of such attention. Even if Odo ever *did* wish to fuck him, he was only for service. He could expect no mutual encounter, no loveplay. And he shouldn't. He was just a Vorta.

But that didn't mean he couldn't make himself enticing, make himself available for a good fucking if Odo ever decided he needed one. He kept himself freshly bathed, dressed in his most enticing clothing, wore the woodsy musk perfume he'd found in one of the shops on the Promenade that was labeled 'Homeworld'. It reminded him of Odo, both the name and the scent that smelled of rain and growing things, much like Odo did himself.

Weyoun had come to love everything about Odo. And he resigned himself to loving from afar. He looked forward to whenever he could do the slightest thing to serve Odo eagerly ... and those moments at night, alone, when he imagined Odo, his sweet master, fucking him.

A few months passed and still his master never used him for anything but boring menial tasks. He collated data, spent hours inputting files that he knew were double-checked, but he did it anyway because his master asked. And in those months, since Odo never touched him, Weyoun came to accept that his master didn't trust him, but it didn't matter. He still loved him and wanted his Founder with all his soul.

His nightly fantasies had started to reflect Odo's distant attitude, even as they got more complex. He did everything he felt would please his unapproachable master. His entire day revolved around Odo now.

By day he did every job Odo asked and every duty he felt Odo would need, even if not asked. And at night, he went to his cabin and took off his clothes and slipped on an outfit that he would wear if he was truly Odo's slave. It was the only thing that gave him happiness. It helped fulfill the cravings his master would not allow him to.

The silky green material complemented his skin color beautifully, and the short loin cloth barely covered his bare genitals, his ass completely bare, so that his master could have access to his firm, quivering globes at all times. Of course, he knew Odo wanted nothing to do with him, but he still tried to live his fantasy. It gave him great joy to imagine pleasing and pleasuring his master.

As soon as he began stripping, Weyoun was hard and aching, but he no longer touched himself as before. A slave did not seek his own pleasure, but the pleasure of his master. A slave did not expect his master to touch him and in this Odo *did* fulfill his daily expectations. Only a good slave deserved his master's attentions. Weyoun tried hard to be a perfect slave for Odo.

After dressing in his loin cloth, he would then kneel in submission by his own sofa, as if kneeling in his master's quarters at his beck and call. He imagined himself a fortunate slave, blessed to be in the presence of a Founder, lucky to be allowed to provide amusement. He imagined another slave, sometimes another Vorta, or perhaps a Jem'Hadar who would discipline him, then fuck him while his master watched, making him beg and plead for the touch of his true master, but not touching him himself. He could not. He was merely a slave, an unworthy Vorta.

Despite that knowledge, he couldn't keep himself from coming, from staining his silky green loin cloth and his carpeting sometimes. It made him feel very disappointed with himself, even as he shuddered with fulfillment, imagining Odo filling him and fulfilling his greatest fantasy.

So with all his months of saved credits, Weyoun bought a small golden goblet. Now when his fantasy got to be too much, he aimed his silvery arcs of cum and filled the goblet with it, whispering Odo's name, imagining himself offering the full goblet to his beautiful Founder, his most precious gift of self. Offering it in the hope of it being used to annoint his ass for a good fucking.

It was hopeless, he knew, but in his dream sometimes he imagined Odo being touched by his gesture and permitting him the honor of drinking it down. He did this each night, able to sleep only when he imagined the pleased smile on his beloved Founder's face as he did as he was bid. He could only sleep when he thought he had pleased Odo, and he slept now on the floor, like any slave.

Then in the morning Weyoun would rise from his living room floor, and put his soiled loincloth in the clothes recycler, wash the goblet and set it on his living room table, then bathe and perfume himself and dress before going to work for his beautiful Odo.

The only things that kept Weyoun from perfect happiness was that he knew Odo still did not trust him and that Odo still did not permit him to be his total slave. In the meantime, seeing him everyday helped him fall deeper and deeper in love.

One afternoon a couple weeks after he'd bought the goblet, Odo gave him a new stack of files to input. He began his job but soon he realized they were the same files he had input the day before. He hesitated, then decided he had to ask his Founder.

"What is it, Weyoun?" Odo inquired, his blue gaze direct.

The Vorta quivered slightly and bowed. "Forgive me, but I'm afraid the files you gave me seem to be the same ones I input yesterday."

"The waste extraction logs for last month?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember giving them to you. Are you sure?"

"Yes, my ... Odo." Weyoun's eyes looked down.

"I don't have time to look into that now." Odo sighed. "Just go ahead and start inputting them. I'm sure Kira gave me the right ones at this mornings meeting. The files probably all start looking alike after while. It won't matter if they go in again and if they're the right ones, then they'll be out of the way."

Weyoun nodded. "Of course. You are wise."

"Just do your work."

"Your will is my work." But it was a whisper and he didn't think Odo had heard him.

He went back to his duty, re-input all the files even though he *knew* he did them the day before.

The next day, the same thing happened. Weyoun did not ask him this time. He just re-input the same files for the third time. Maybe the logs were just to keep him out of Odo's way. If they were, then ... he was no longer useful.

That evening, Odo did not even thank him when he gave him his report and told him he was done in-putting. The busy changeling merely grunted and waved a dismissing hand at him from behind his desk. Weyoun felt he might cry.

At the end of this long day he went to his quarters and slowly removed his clothes. Hot tears began to fall as he pulled the soft silky green loin cloth from the replicator and he crushed the fabric to his face and wept hard. His fantasies could not keep up with his reality now. Suddenly he was angry with himself. He had a personal Founder to attend! That made him one of the luckiest Vorta alive! How that Founder used him was not his concern. The fact that he had one to serve heart and soul was what mattered. So what if he didn't get fully used? So what if his Founder never touched him? His love for his master did not matter in the slightest. His feelings meant nothing to any Founder, as it had been since the occupation of his homeworld. As it was supposed to be.

Weyoun stopped crying and looked at the damp, wrinkled material. He should not have done that. He could not look his best now. He had not only failed his duty to be useful to his master, but now he didn't have the materials to please him.

His door chime sounded and Weyoun put his hands down, still holding the damp loin cloth and called out automatically. "Come in."

Odo stepped in then paused. The door shut behind him as he stood taking in Weyoun's swollen, wet eyes

"Did I ... interrupt something?"

Weyoun shook his head, tried to keep his voice from sounding too hoarse. "Not at all, my dearest Odo. I am honoured to have you in my humble dwelling."

"Well, I just came to apologize." Odo put his hands behind his back and sighed.

"Apologize? " Weyoun stepped closer in his horror. "You've done nothing to apologize for, my dear Odo, nothing at all! A founder does not apologize to a Vorta for anything."

Odo's frown returned. He studied Weyoun's face, ignoring what he'd said, "You look as if you've been... crying. Is something wrong?"

Weyoun felt his face darken with shame. He could not lie. "I was. It means nothing. Thank you for inquiring, my dear Odo. You are most kind."

Odo stared at him hard. "I thought Vorta didn't lie."

"We don't."

"Do you cry over nothing then?"

Weyoun's gaze dropped, now deeply ashamed. "No, my Founder. It is nothing, truly."

"Then tell me."

He began to tremble. "I ... I was crying over you, my Founder."

"Me?"

"Yes, my Founder."

"Why over me?" Odo sounded puzzled.

Weyoun could take no more. He fell to his knees before his master. "I... I am a worthless slave, founder. I saw today that I have no real value to you anymore. It is not important, I know, but it pained me terribly to realize it. That is all. That is why I cried."

There was a long silence as Weyoun stared at Odo's boots. Then Odo asked carefully, "What makes you think you have no value?"

Weyoun looked up then and Odo was startled by the new tear tracks that ran down the Vorta's smooth cheeks. "You have given me make-work these last two days, my founder. It is kind of you to keep me busy, but I know this means you have no real use for me."

To the Vorta's great surprise, and his horror, Odo suddenly crouched down in front of him. He laid a hand on Weyoun's shoulder.

"That's why I came, Weyoun. Apparently the files for last month were accidentally downloaded *over* the files for this month. Chief O'Brien caught the error and is having his maintenance crews re-enter their logs from their daily and weekly work-assignment padds. You tried to tell me, but I thought you made the common mistake of thinking you recognized files that were just very similar to each other, but you were right. You *were* inputting the same files these last two days." Odo removed his hand and gave him a small smile.

"My founder..." Weyoun had nearly stopped breathing at the touch of Odo's hand. To hear that warm, deep voice both thrilled him and filled him with desire. He could not hide it. He merely bowed his head though, even as his cock sprang to full life. "My deepest gratitude, dear Founder. You've made me *very* happy."

Odo felt a pang inside. The Vorta's feelings were genuine, he could see that. He could also see the huge bulge that was tenting the fabric of his thin trousers.

"Weyoun..."

"My founder?"

Odo didn't know what he was going to say, finally he noticed the green silk crumpled in Weyoun's hand. "What is that?"

Gentle blue eyes looked down at it, then up at him. "It's ... it's what I wear in my quarters for you, my founder."

"For me?"

Weyoun blushed again. "Forgive me, my Odo, but ... I live in service to my Founder. Every day I try to do all in my power to please you. I know you do not wish a personal slave, but I am designed to live for my Founder, my master. I cannot help that. So ... every night I come home and imagine continuing to work ... to please you in every way I can."

"I see."

Weyoun trembled again. "This cloth best emphasizes my skin coloring. I don't know if it pleases you, but I chose it with you in mind. It is exquisite to touch and very beautiful, much as you are." He looked shyly at Odo then, but the changeling said nothing and he held up the loin cloth and held it against himself, showing how it was worn. "As befits a slave, I keep my entry bare in order to allow you access to my body at anytime. Should you ever wish it for any reason."

Odo's expression did not change. "I see."

"It is my fondest wish to serve you, my Odo, in any way I can. Every morning I bathe to be clean in your presence, and perfume myself to be pleasant to be near. I clothe myself in the most beautiful fabrics and colors to honor you."

Then he waited, his explanations finished. The green silk still lay against his groin, now tented with his obvious erection. He trembled suddenly, ashamed at what Odo must think and a little afraid.

Finally Odo nodded. He gazed hard now at the trembling Vorta, then stood. He did not invite Weyoun to stand so he remained on his knees, waiting for his master to comment.

"I think," Odo finally said heavily. "That I made a mistake."

Weyoun looked down now, at the carpet, hiding his sudden tears. He nodded. He hadn't been able to lie to Odo, but his truth had earned him his Founder's disgust.

Then he felt himself being lifted by one arm. He stood, shivering, his hard cock jutting before him, nearly dropping the silky green cloth. Odo let him go once he stood. Weyoun could barely meet his eyes, but he did, shivering over and over.

"I wasn't sure at first if I could believe your little story about poisoning yourself. So I only gave you menial and tedious jobs that anyone could do. You did your work extremely well, no matter how tedious it became. Then I gave you slightly more sensitive work, but you didn't pry or download files you weren't supposed to. You just did your assigned duties and did them well. I naturally thought you might be a spy, but after your single message to Damar, you have sent no other messages, despite being allowed access to the communication equipment and given ample opportunities."

Weyoun dared to speak. "I might have used my room comm panel."

"You haven't."

"But how do y--" Weyoun paled. "You've been watching me."

Odo slowly nodded. "Yes."

Weyoun blushed now. His gaze dropped and his eyes closed. "Forgive me, my founder."

"For what?"

He looked up and found, to his surprise, that Odo was looking at him with gentle regard. "Founder?"

Odo's voice dropped to a dark, velvet tone. "Do you want me to forgive you for telling me the truth? Or do you want me to forgive you for fantasizing about me? Or is it that you want me to forgive you for.... for loving me as much as you clearly do?"

Weyoun gasped. "Odo..."

He nodded. "Finally you say my name as an equal."

"I-- you're right. Forgive me, my Founder."

"You should forgive *me*, Weyoun."

"Founder?" Weyoun gasped with horror. "What for?"

"For not trusting you all this time."

Weyoun shook his head. "Not at all. If anything I feel it is the original Founders who should seek your forgiveness."

"Original Founders?"

"That is how I think of the Founders who hail from the Gamma Quadrant."

"I hail from there, too."

"But you weren't raised there, my dearest Founder. I ... forgive me for saying this, but I think of you as an Alpha Quadrant Founder not an original Founder."

"Like the Jem'Hadar," Odo noted.

"Yes. They can't help thinking of themselves as different."

"Yes. I suppose I *am* an Alpha Quadrant Founder." Suddenly Odo smiled. Weyoun's heart nearly melted.

"I'm so gratified to have pleased you, my founder," he said sincerely, bowing.

"I think," Odo murmured softly. "It is time I thanked *you*, Weyoun, for all your loyal service."

The Vorta shook his head. "Oh, no, my founder. It is your due. I am just happy to have finally been able to please you in this small way."

"I know you want more." Odo's gaze was firm. "I've watched you. I thought at first you were merely putting on a display, but now ... I know better."

Weyoun swallowed. "Fantasies, my founder. Your servant's fantasies. I am content to serve in any capacity you desire."

"Then serve me."

The Vorta straightened instantly. "How, my founder?"

Odo's voice was soft, but commanding. "Follow your routine, Weyoun."

"My founder?"

"Call me Odo. And follow your routine." Odo whispered, a dark velvet sound in the quiet room.

Weyoun felt himself blush and spring to an aching level of hardness both at once. He swallowed, then began undressing. As he slipped his pants off, his hard, swollen cock stuck up eagerly before him. He gasped as Odo suddenly ran a curious finger along it.

"What an interesting color."

The Vorta nodded, then closed his eyes in shame as a drop of thick oily liquid began to pool at the head of his cock.

"My slave is eager," Odo murmured.

Weyoun nodded, trembling. "Yes, master."

He fought to keep from shuddering then as Odo took his underpants from him and gently wiped his leaking cock with them. Then he swallowed and shook as his master gently tied the green loin cloth on him, around his waist. The soft silk against his aching cock was an agony of pleasure. Weyoun fought to keep from moaning, from coming.

"Much better." Odo purred from behind him.

Weyoun waited now, his old fantasy in shattered ruins as reality surpassed it in one simple gesture from his master.

"My slave does have a nice body."

"Thank you master."

"It's very smooth."

Weyoun gasped as he felt a warm hand stroke down his back, bit back a moan as that hand carressed his buttocks.

"I... I bathe it daily for you, master. And oil it in preparation."

"Preparation for what?"

"Master?" Weyoun trembled again fearfully.

"You heard me. Preparation for what?"

"You, master."

"The truth, Weyoun."

The Vorta closed his eyes, feeling tears running free again. His voice was a whisper. "For it to be ready for you, master."

"In case I feel like ... taking you, no?"

"Oh, yes, master!"

"Does my slave want to be taken then?"

Weyoun fell to his knees and nodded. "Yes, my master. More than anything."

"That doesn't sound like a request to me."

The Vorta dropped his head, kneeling before his master, achingly hard and filled with lustful desire. He looked up and met the beautiful blue eyes of his master with his own hopeful ones.

"Please, my master -- fuck me."

Odo's voice was a soft, curious purr. "My slave is hard. Surely that means he wants to do the fucking?"

"My pleasure comes from pleasuring my master."

"I'm a founder. Why should fucking you give me pleasure?"

"Master?" Weyoun trembled with uncertainty.

"Answer me."

Weyoun's head dropped. He had never felt so small, so useless or foolish. Finally he shrugged and began to cry. "I don't know, my master. I beg forgiveness."

"Well you should."

Odo's voice was hard and he began to nod in response. Suddenly he felt a hard hand, no, not a hand, a tentacle wrap itself around his neck, more than once. He didn't have time to do anything, but he knew he was going to die, either by suffocation, or else from crushed neck bones.

The tentacle tightened and he fought to keep from trying to stop it. This was his fate, he was a Vorta. He had failed his master. His life was forfeit. His already poor vision grew dim.

Suddenly an odd, far-off sound penetrated his mind. He felt a searing sense of heat and waited for death to take him.

Weyoun gasped awake.

"He's conscious, constable."

The Vorta blinked several times, then turned, wincing at the tenderness of his ravaged throat. A warm hand made him shudder and he saw the dark eyes of Bashir, the human doctor.

"Easy. I need to run a dermal regenerator over your throat. You're very lucky. You could have been killed. Another half a minute and you would have been."

"Where..." Weyoun paused at the raspy quality of his voice and finished, "...am I?"

"The station Infirmary. A changeling tried to kill you. You're safe now."

"A changeling?"

"Lie still. Constable, why don't you explain matters for our friend here?"

He heard footsteps then Odo's familiar face loomed beside him. He fixed his gaze on those oddly sad looking eyes and waited, blinking. He found it hard to believe.

"A few days ago I 'woke' from regenerating to find myself inside a locked storage box. I managed to break free only to find I was aboard a Jem'Hadar ship," Odo murmurmed.

Weyoun frowned.

"Anyway, I was able to hide and send word to Captain Sisko and get myself beamed back. I thought you were responsible so I was coming with some deputies to arrest you. I... I found a changeling that was in my form, strangling you." Odo suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

Bashir made Weyoun tilt his head back as he worked on healing the raw flesh of his neck. Since he couldn't look down, Weyoun ran fingers along his thigh. Bare. He was still in his loin cloth. He felt himself blushing now, deeply ashamed, but he only swallowed.

"Thank you for my life, Odo." He managed to rasp.

"It's all right." He couldn't see his master, but he heard a slight throat- clearing sound. "When you're recovered, I'll take your statement."

Footsteps again.

Weyoun was grateful when Bashir said nothing as a tear slipped from his eye and down onto the Infirmary pillow.

Later that night, Bashir released him. He gave him soft, blue pajama's to put on, and he was grateful once more for the sympathetic young human's discretion.

He made his way out of the Infirmary onto the Promenade where he stared at the Security Office, before finding himself too cowardly to go there. Hanging his head, he made his way to the turbolift and back to his quarters.

He only wanted to cry, to sob out his shame and despair. For the first time he *didn't* want to see his beloved Odo's face. A stranger had worn it. A stranger who had hurt him, tried to kill him. A stranger who had taken his most cherished fantasies and shredded them forever.

He began crying in the lift, unable to stop himself and was glad when the lift doors opened and no one was in sight in the hallway. He stumbled his way to his room and as soon as the door closed behind him he fell to the ground, wrapped his arms around his knees and began crying hard, his huge, heaving sobs shaking his whole body. He thought he would never stop. He felt his life was over.

He didn't hear the sound of his door chime. He didn't hear the door open either.

He almost didn't feel the touch of the hand, but when it pressed his shoulder he wrenched free, trembling with fear and rage and anger and despair.

"NO!!"

Then he stopped, on his knees, looking hard into the face of his so-beloved founder. Odo just watched him uncertainly.

"I wasn't trying to harm you. I was concerned. You didn't answer my hail or open your door. I thought you were injured."

Weyoun caught his breath. He began to cry again, this time with shame. "I'm sorry. I..."

"It's all right. I think I understand."

"Please..." the Vorta let himself fall before Odo's feet, face down on the ground, abasing himself for his outburst. "Please forgive me, founder."

"There's nothing to forgive." Odo waited, but Weyoun didn't get up, just crying quietly at his feet. "I was hoping to speak with you, but..."

"Of course," Weyoun managed to say. He slowly gathered himself, got up and sat back on his haunches. He looked up at Odo and smiled crookedly, blue eyes wet and swollen. "I'll answer any questions you may have."

"Actually," Odo cleared his throat. "I watched the monitor proceedings of what happened in here earlier. I've been keeping an eye on you. As you seem to know."

The Vorta nodded.

"Anyway, I came to ask if you wanted to press charges, Weyoun."

"Charges?"

"Yes. Against the changeling that attacked you."

"The changeling that attacked me?"

"My deputies stunned it. It's still gelatinous, in one of my holding cells."

"In one of the holding cells?"

Odo frowned. "Why are you repeating what I say?"

"Forgive me, my master, but...I couldn't possible press charges against any founder no matter what they did."

Odo frowned deeply and Weyoun wondered if he understood just how deeply ingrained this was in all Vorta when Odo said something else entirely. "Master?"

"Wh--?" Weyoun stopped. He *had* called him master. He felt himself blushing again. "Forgive me. I forgot myself."

"Never mind. Will you press charges? If not, we'll stick it in a stasis box and send it to Starbase 275 for the duration of the war."

"I can't."

"You have every right to. It could have killed you."

"And it was in it's rights to do so. I am merely a Vorta."

Odo gazed at him for so long he wondered if he'd displeased him, then he shook his head and crouched down. "Weyoun, you're much more than just a Vorta. Don't you know that?"

"As you say, my ma-- my founder."

"No." Suddenly Odo's hand was gripping his forearm *hard* and he looked up to find himself staring into those clear blue eyes. "Not as I say. I'm just a person, like you, like the captain, the major, the doctor, the chief, even Quark. I'm no more special or important than any of them. And neither are you."

"But you're a Founder!"

"And you're a Vorta. And Kira is a Bajoran. And Garak is a Cardassian. So what? That is our race, it doesn't exempt any of us from anything. I still have feelings like all of you. I still get sick like all of you. I will still die. Just like all of you."

"No, my founder. Don't say such things."

"I speak the truth, Weyoun. And call me Odo. Please."

Weyoun could feel tears filling his eyes again. Despite himself he felt his hand grasp for Odo's on his arm. To his surprise, Odo gave him a small nod and grasped back, taking his fingers in his own in a friendly gesture. To his embarassment, he began to feel himself get hard. He winced.

"Odo..."

"It's all right. It's a reflex. I remember." Odo gave him a slight self-conscious smile.

Weyoun swallowed. "It's more than that. I... I care for you, Odo."

To his astonishment Odo's smile grew warmer. His voice sounded mildly amused. "That would certainly explain the outfit you were wearing when I entered your room earlier."

The Vorta relaxed, then chuckled a little, only slightly embarrassed now. "Ridiculous of me, wasn't it? I chose it for you, but..." He bit back his comment, withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry, Odo. I know my feelings probably make you uncomfortable."

Odo shook his head. "Not really. Just a bit puzzled. I'm not used to having anyone... *desire* me. It happens so rarely I don't know what to do when someone does."

"That depends on how you feel about that person, doesn't it?" Weyoun dared to ask.

Those blue eyes met his. "Yes. Yes it does."

Weyoun swallowed hard. "And ... how do you feel about me?"

Odo stared at him seriously for a long moment. Finally he sighed. "I find your attraction flattering. It's certainly better than the Cardassian's sort of attention."

"Cardassians?"

"Well, except for Garak. The Cardassians used to find me intriguing. They found me a curiousity and wanted to 'give me a try' as the humanoid saying goes, and they did."

"My founder!"

"It's in the past. Garak taught me that not all Cardassians are like that."

Weyoun frowned. "Garak?"

"We had a relationship for awhile. Actually we still do, from time to time."

The Vorta's mind was swimming with images and his heart burned with envy. His precious Odo -- with Garak! He looked down.

"I see."

"He's still getting over a bereavement right now. We have an understanding of sorts. Neither of us is *exclusive*."

Weyoun looked up at this to find that blue gaze a gentle one. "Odo..."

The changeling merely eyed him. "Are you sure it's what you want?"

The Vorta thought he might come right then and there. His body hardened to steel beneath those sickbay pajamas, a dark, damp spot suddenly sprouting near the tip of his cock. His eyes pleaded with hunger, with love. "*Please*. I'm more sure of it than of anything."

"Come on, then." Odo got up gracefully, took Weyoun's hand to get him up, too.

Weyoun followed in a haze of lust and trembling need. Odo led him to the darkened bedroom. He didn't raise the lights, merely turning to him and gently starting to lift his top, to undress him.

"Let me." He shrugged the confining thing off, then shuddered as Odo's fingers ran along his chest. They circled a nipple and smiled as it hardened into a small, gnarled nub.

"I remember how that felt." He murmured, before stepping forward, then lowering his head and sucking it into his mouth. even as his fingers sought the other one and gently rubbed it.

Weyoun cried out, more pre-cum surging from him and he clutched at Odo's shoulders. As he did, they morphed, changing to bare flesh. He could feel Odo's hands reaching for his pajama bottoms and slowly sliding them down and off.

"I... I..."

Odo let him go and before he could quite figure out what was happening, he found himself pressed, face down against his bed, his hands held by the wrists beside his shoulders. A warm, hard thickness gently parted him and he arched his back, trembling helplessly.

"Easy." That dark velvet voice against his ear, lips brushing the long curve of it, even as he felt that warm, solid body pressing against his back, that hot, pulsing length working it's way within him and with a strangled cry Weyoun came - hot pulses of silver that pooled around his thrusting cock against the bed.

He convulsed beneath his changeling lover even as he felt him still thrusting, felt an impossible number of hands stroking him gently, from neck to feet. He shook and shook with his release, then fought to catch his breath.

"F-forgive me, Odo."

The changeling had not stopped thrusting, a very slow and sensuous movement, pressing against Weyoun's back, even as he pressed his own still hard cock against the warm wet slippery sperm covering his sheets. It felt great. Those multiple hands continued to stroke and carress his skin. Weyoun had never felt so special.

"There's nothing to forgive, Weyoun." almost a sigh, very contented. "I enjoy sex as much as the next person."

He relaxed finally, still feeling those wonderfully long, slow thrusts deep inside him.

"I'm glad you found some pleasure." Odo added quietly.

"Always, my precious Odo. Always."

"Because it's me?" That voice was by his ear now and he turned his head to meet those eyes, the same color as his own, almost purple in the darkness. He smiled a little as he realized he didn't stop his movements, that Odo was truly enjoying himself as he said.

Weyoun shook his head. "No, my beloved. Because you're a very giving lover. And because you are my first."

At this Odo paused. "I was?"

"It was everything I imagined and more."

He considered this, then shrugged a little. "I'm glad then. But I wish you had told me."

"Would it make a difference?"

Odo shrugged again. "Maybe. I might have gone a bit more slowly."

"Then I would have come in my pants."

Odo smiled. "In that case, I'm glad I moved with more haste."

Weyoun chuckled, then began to laugh. He moved to kiss Odo and Odo obliged. He stared at his changeling lover then.

"I think I would like to keep doing this, but face to face."

"All right."

Odo suddenly morphed and before Weyoun could quite figure out what was happening, he found himself astride Odo, still impaled as the naked changeling thrust up and into him. He smiled and carressed the Vorta's smooth lightly muscled chest, ran his fingers down to where the faint, feathery hairs of his groin began, then curled them around his hard jutting cock. Weyoun groaned.

"It's really a very interesting color. A pale pearly green."

"I... I..."

Odo tightened his grip and began to stroke him firmly, even as his own thrusts grew deeper and harder and faster. Weyoun gasped and his silvery sperm began gushing out. Odo trembled, too, then cried out and suddenly Weyoun found himself shuddering in a bed of warm liquid changeling.

He reached out and gathered the wet gel and stroked him, running his hands through Odo and pressing his face to him, kissing him ... loving him.

After a few moments, Odo reformed, somehow gathering him close and tucking them both under the covers as he did. Weyoun smiled at the feeling of the firm body next to his, holding him. He laid his head against that smooth, warm chest and kissed a small brown nipple.

"Thank you, Odo."

"Thank *you*. I found that very gratifying."

"So did I, but I was thanking you for showing me how it could be."

"Oh?"

"Between two lovers. Neither master, neither slave. Just ... two lovers."

"Of course." Odo sighed. He held the slender Vorta closer and they both sighed contentedly.

Then Odo suddenly got a truly wicked smile and kissing Weyoun on the back of the neck, he whispered darkly. "But if you'd like to meet me in my quarters tomorrow night wearing that skimpy green outfit ... I won't complain."

Soon the sound of chuckles, then outright laughter filled the bedroom. Before long it was replaced by more passionate sounds, as the two lovers rediscovered each other in the warm darkness.