Slow Burn--Part III: Conclusion
Dec. 8th, 2009 05:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dark_sinestraPart III: Bodies Entwine
Garak
Private Quarters
The afternoon hours passed like days. Not even his beloved Preloc could lift Garak out of his terrible anticipation. Doubts plagued him in droves. What if the doctor didn't show? What if he did only to say he had changed his mind? What if he found Cardassian physiology disgusting? What if, what if, what if? It was enough to make him wish he still had the implant if only to ease the anxiety. He didn't dare to drink. He didn't want anything impairing either his ability or his senses. He had never allowed himself to hope that the dear young man would return his attraction or feelings. Now that it had been thrown unexpectedly into his lap, he hardly knew what to do with it. Did he really want to take this risk?
This was no mere dalliance, he knew, no scratching of an itch, as impersonal as riding on a public shuttle with someone and getting off at separate stops, never to see one another again. He couldn't leave this station. Come good or ill with the Starfleet officer, the two of them were stuck in this place together. If things did go badly or turn sour, they'd still see one another nearly every day on the Promenade. There were also their lunches to consider. He would never admit to Julian how much those lunches meant, what a life line the man had been for him in his long, painful exile. Did he truly want to jeopardize that in order to take it to the next level?
With a start, he realized he hadn't thought of Palandine in almost four months, not once. No, his thoughts had turned more and more toward the young doctor, anchoring the tailor firmly in the here and now and crowding out the demons of his past. What would Tain do if he discovered, as he inevitably would, that Garak had taken things a step further than enjoying the comfort of a friendship? Would he go after the doctor to spite his son? He wouldn't put it past him.
As he considered all of these issues and many more besides, he tidied his already pin neat quarters, washed himself very thoroughly and carefully, and discarded close to half a dozen outfits before settling on a black tunic with silver scroll work on the sleeves, fitted black pants, boots and a leather belt. He combed his hair to a high gloss and looked in his full length mirror with a critical eye. “You eat too much spice pudding,” he told himself in disgust, not happy with the width of his midriff. What was he doing, going after this boy who was over twenty-five years his junior? It didn't matter that the average Cardassian lifespan exceeded the average human one. The age difference was significant. He's no more boy than Major Kira is a girl, he countered. Age isn't everything.
He replicated some flowers, only to discard them less than fifteen minutes later. About thirty minutes before Julian usually got off work, he replicated more and arranged them in an empty vase. He doesn't have to know they haven't been here for a few days, he thought. Should he have food? He should probably have something besides kanar! He had never seen Julian even try to drink kanar. It was too late to leave his quarters. The doctor could arrive early, and what would he think if he did only to find Garak not there?
Reluctantly, he put a private call through to Quark's. Fortune must have been smiling on him, he thought, as Rom was the one to answer the hail. “I know it's a bit of an unusual request, but could I have a chilled bottle of Verdelet delivered to my quarters right away?”
“I don't see why not,” Rom said after craning his neck around to be sure Quark wasn't there to overhear. “Is it OK with you if I deliver it? You can just, uh, pay me directly.”
“That's fine, Rom,” Garak said. “I'll see you shortly.” With the way Quark treated his brother, Garak had no qualms about letting the man profit a little on the side if he could get away with it. Less than a minute later, his door chimed. With a sinking feeling, he knew there was no way Rom could have gotten there so quickly. It had to be Julian, a little early. “Calm yourself,” he murmured. Straightening and squaring his shoulders, he called cheerfully, “Enter!”
Julian stepped through the door, dressed in a fitted navy tunic and dark chocolate trousers. Garak's breath caught in his throat, but he managed a smile. “I'm glad you came,” he said. As so often happened when he was nervous, once he began to talk, he couldn't quite shut it off. “You're a bit early. I've sent for some wine, since I don't believe you like kanar. You don't like kanar, do you? It's no matter. I hope you do like Verdelet. Rom will be bringing it. Fortunate, no? Quark might ask questions or talk, but Rom keeps his head down and his mouth shut.”
The entire time he spoke, Julian had been smiling, the smile deepening in increments. “Elim,” he said finally, “breathe.”
“I do sometimes get verbose, don't I?” he asked. He wondered how it was that he was undoubtedly the more experienced of the two, and yet he seemed the most nervous. Focusing more on Julian and less on his own racing thoughts, he realized that while the young man might seem calm on the surface, his pupils were wide, his face slightly flushed, and his pulse very visible. So the playing field is more level than I thought, he thought, able to relax somewhat. “I'm being a terrible host. Can I get you anything while we wait for Rom?”
The doctor shook his head and crossed to take a seat on Garak's sofa. He perched toward the front, his back straight and hands clasped neatly over both knees. “No, thank you,” he said. “You look very nice. I've always liked that tunic.”
“Thank you,” Garak replied. “You look very nice, too. Those colors do wonders for your complexion.” The door chime sounded. “I'll only be a moment,” he said, fetching some leks from the back and answering. He blocked Rom's view of the room by standing squarely in the doorway. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, taking the bottle and thrusting payment toward the Ferengi.
“You're welcome,” Rom said as he took the money. He tried to look around the imposing Cardassian unsuccessfully. “So, uh, are you entertaining?”
“Indeed I am,” Garak said with a bland smile. “I must get back to my guest now. Good-bye, Rom.” He stepped back, and the door slid shut. “I may have spoken too soon when I said he wouldn't be inquisitive.” He turned, only to find Julian standing not so far away. Hearing always had been his weakest sense.
The man took the bottle of wine from him and set it aside on his dining table. “I...I've never...” he said, looking perplexed. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I've never really been with a man,” he said, “or a Cardassian, male or female. I hope I don't...”
The tailor felt something inside him melt. That Julian would worry about such things as much as he had touched him deeply. He set aside his uncertainty and took both warm hands in his cool ones. “My dear Doctor, you don't have to worry about a thing. I won't push you to anything past your comfort. You set the pace, and if you need to stop...”
Julian leaned in then, pressing a warm, soft kiss to Garak's lips. They twined the fingers of their joined hands, tan and gray. His lips were softer than Garak had expected, their fullness sensual and slow in their exploration. They kept their eyes open, lids at half mast. So close, Garak could see more of the green and gold, astonished at the intensity of the colors flecking the brown. The last traces of his nerves melted away with the deepening of the kiss, their tongues twining and lightly thrusting. He let his eyes slide shut and surrendered more of himself to sensation.
They released one another's hands. Garak felt Julian's arms slip about his waist and tighten, the clasp of hands over his broad back, and he lifted his hands to cup the soft, smooth face so close to his own. He had never engaged with the Bajorans the way so many of his fellow Cardassians had during the occupation, but as he lightly traced Bashir's cheeks and jaw and felt the velvety soft nub of an earlobe, he thought he was beginning to understand why they did. He could lose himself in that alone for longer than he believed the doctor would have patience to tolerate.
Tangling his fingers in the wavy hair, her marveled at how different it felt from any Cardassian hair, wiry and short. His jaw worked with the kiss, both men now chest to chest, groin to groin, pulling one another tighter and as close as they could get. Julian moaned softly into Garak's mouth, the breath captured and shared. He was exquisite, everything Garak had hoped he would be and more, so beautifully responsive.
Julian broke the kiss, his eyes now black as night, pupils as wide as they would go. “I want to see you, Garak,” he whispered. “I've never seen you.”
The Cardassian felt his breath hitch, a small stab of self-consciousness causing him to hesitate. “Cardassians...we don't really...”
“I know,” the man nuzzled his neck, his hot breath pulsing gently against the sensitive scales there. “I don't think I've ever seen you in anything that didn't cover you to everything but your hands, neck and head. Please,” he said.
“You saw me in a hospital gown,” Garak stalled.
Julian grinned wickedly and bit down on the scale ridge just beneath Garak's ear, muttering through his clench of teeth, “That doesn't count.”
Intense pleasure lanced straight down every nerve ending to his groin, his breath hissing through his teeth on a sharp inhale. “All right, all right,” he said breathlessly. “You've convinced me.” Pressing his lips together, he stepped back and began unfastening the hidden hooks at the front of his tunic. He would later reflect that he could have done this more artfully. At the time, he was surprised he had enough wits about him to do it at all. Lowering his gaze, he shrugged out of the tunic, carefully folded it, and set it aside.
Julian watched him, his lips twitching as he tried to avoid cutting a smile. “So fastidious,” he remarked.
“Yes, I am,” Garak replied with no trace of irony. Resigned that his spice pudding addiction had betrayed him, he tugged his form fitting undershirt over his head. Before he could get it off, he heard Julian gasp and found himself glad that in that instant that he couldn't see his face. Just as he pulled free, he felt Julian's hands tracing the evenly scalloped scales of his ribcage and his mouth at the top of the inverted teardrop scale of his sternum. He drew with his lips and dipped his tongue into the indentation. Garak released a shuddering breath and cupped the back of the man's head, his other hand braced on a shoulder. “That is...unbelievably wicked of you,” he gasped. “Criminal, even.”
“What's criminal is that you hide yourself away under all those thick clothes,” the doctor murmured. “You're beautiful.”
“Oh, Doctor,” he sighed, his head tipping back and eyes closing. He allowed the sensual exploration of his scales, his pectoral and dorsal ridges, anything that Julian wanted to kiss, lick, or touch, front and back. No small part of him wanted to seize the man and ravage him, to take what he had denied himself for so very long. Perhaps some other time he knew that he would, but not a moment before Julian told him that he was ready for that. For now, he let the desire build, a slow burn that was much hotter than any quick explosion of need, spent and gone in an instant. The front of his trousers was soaked with his moisture, and he had long since erupted from the ridged slit that protected his sex organ when it wasn't in use. A thick, heady scent, a combination of Julian's arousal and his own, grew stronger with each passing moment.
He felt the doctor fumbling at his waistband, the man kneeling before him and looking up with passion glazed eyes. Gently, he guided his hands to the proper hooks and snaps and let him release the taut pressure of the fabric. He gasped softly as cold air assaulted him, but it didn't last more than a few seconds. Julian took one look at him, groaned, and drew him deeply into his mouth, sliding downward with steady suction. Garak's knees tried to buckle, and he bit back an outcry. So much for worrying about their differences!
“Wait,” he said hoarsely, drawing back and kneeling, too. He deftly removed Julian's tunic and tugged down his trousers. There was so much he wanted to do to him, but that was what seconds, thirds, and more were for. In that moment, he wanted only to be able to share the intense pleasure, to give as well as receive. He lay back flat on the floor, guiding the doctor with his hands until he could tell he knew what he intended.
He slid atop Garak, the heat of his skin searing hot in comparison to the cool scales. Spreading his knees well to either side of Garak's neck, he lowered his hips. Soon, both of them completed the circle, each taking the other, tasting, lapping, and suckling. He tasted exquisite, salty, sharp, and musky. Garak made good use of his long, muscular tongue and took great pleasure in the sounds and tremors he coaxed from his partner. He stroked and kneaded Julian's slim hips and the firm twin curves of his haunches, alternately raking with his nails and the rough side of his small palm scales. Before long the doctor was bucking and thrashing, trying to push into the grasp of Garak's hands and into his drawing mouth simultaneously. The noises Julian made deep in his throat vibrated his mouth, a sensation that came close to pushing Garak past the edge of his control.
He pulled off of Garak only long enough to say, “I'm very close, Garak. If you don't want me to come in your mouth, you should pull back.”
Smiling inwardly at the sweet consideration, he simply redoubled his efforts in answer. Sweat rolled off of Julian's body and trickled in rivulets between Garak's scales, tickling him all over and pooling beneath him wetly. He wrapped his tongue tightly, thrusting and cork screwing. Julian's rhythm with his mouth broke entirely, and he lifted his head on a long, hoarse cry. Wetness flooded Garak's mouth. He moaned low, lapping at it and carefully slowing, then stopping and letting Julian decide when or if he wanted to pull out. He accepted the welcome weight of his partner sprawled atop his body and raked his nails lightly up and down the smooth back, the skin velvety soft but the muscle beneath well formed.
Julian made an unintelligible noise, paused, and tried again. “That was...I don't have words for how that was,” he said muzzily.
“I get the impression not many people strike you speechless,” Garak said smugly.
“More than manage it for you, I'd think,” Julian mused playfully, lifting and rolling to the side. “I'm going to have to see if I can do that.”
“You're setting yourself a daunting task,” Garak warned with a twinkle in blue eyes.
“Oh, my dear tailor, I love a challenge,” he replied with a truly wicked grin. “You're going to have to help me, though. For example, does this feel good?” He settled languidly between Garak's loosely spread legs and gently stroked a finger at the opening of the ridged slit just beneath his exposed dark member.
Garak's hips lifted of their own volition. “Mnh, yes,” he said, his voice constricted. “You could say that.”
“And this?” he slipped the finger inward, letting the fingertip follow the unexposed curve of Garak's erection.
The Cardassian's back arched away from the floor, and he gasped. “Oh, yes,” he breathed, blue eyes rolling back. His hands pressed against the ungiving plane of the floor, scrabbling futilely for purchase and eventually curling into tight fists. A second finger joined the first, and then a third. Garak had no idea how long the exquisite torture continued. He was thrilled with Julian's willingness to explore, the creative ways he set to wringing every drop of pleasure from him that he possibly could, and the completely endearing way he checked on him when he was inarticulate for too long. “Are you still all right? Do you need me to stop?”
“Yes, no, whatever you do, don't stop,” was always the response he gave to this. His stamina far exceeded Julian's, but Julian was quick to become aroused again, and again after that. By the time he had Garak quivering and on the very edge of release, he had climaxed three times, his creamy seed smeared across the Cardassian's lower belly and his inner thighs. He drew Garak in as deeply and as tightly as he could, pulsing his mouth over the dark, slick flesh in small, powerful motions.
“Julian,” he panted. “If you don't want...”
The man didn't let him finish the sentence, bearing down and pulling hard with his tongue and suction. Pleasure every bit as intense as the wire at its best flooded his body. He rode the crest of the wave, conscious thought driven to a dark, hidden corner of his mind for the duration of the seemingly endless release. Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes and pooled in the pockets of his eye ridges. When he was fully in possession of his faculties again, he found his head cradled in the hollow of Julian's shoulder and his cheek resting against the man's smooth chest. Gentle fingers sifted his hair back from his forehead. “You're back,” Julian whispered and bent his head to press a kiss to Garak's temple.
Garak nodded wordlessly and lifted his hand to stroke softly over the curled chest hairs, fingers curved inward and the backs of his nails dragging lightly over brown skin. “You're beautiful, too,” he said, glancing upward to meet soft brown eyes. He had never in his life seen such a look directed his way. It burned him, and when he realized he could put a name to it, it frightened him a little, more when he felt its echo rising in his breast and threatening to overwhelm all logic and sense. I could love this man, he marveled. I think part of me already does.
Rising to one elbow, he leaned against Julian's side and brushed damp curls from his high forehead. A small smile played upon the human's swollen lips, bruised from the force of their kisses. Garak traced his lips with his fingertip, answering his smile when he suckled the tip past his teeth and teased it with his tongue. “Come to bed?” the tailor offered tentatively, wondering if the doctor would understand the full significance of what he said.
Julian's lips parted in surprise. “You...you want me to sleep here, with you?” he asked.
Garak nodded and glanced away. “Of course, I understand if you can't, or if you don't want to do that.”
Julian shushed him with a tender kiss. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be,” he said, emotion in his cultured tones. “Come on, then, before you get cold.” He stood first and offered a hand up to Garak who accepted it willingly.
Arm in arm, they walked into the bedroom, both knowing fully well that things had changed irrevocably between them. Garak chose not to give too much thought to the future, having learned in his exile how to appreciate the moment for its full worth and leave tomorrow to its own devices. He hadn't slept with another, truly slept, since his days in the dorm at the Bamarren Institute for State Intelligence, and then it wasn't by choice. Belatedly, he wondered if Julian snored. Smiling as he climbed into the narrow bed beside him, he realized he would soon find out.
The End
Garak
Private Quarters
The afternoon hours passed like days. Not even his beloved Preloc could lift Garak out of his terrible anticipation. Doubts plagued him in droves. What if the doctor didn't show? What if he did only to say he had changed his mind? What if he found Cardassian physiology disgusting? What if, what if, what if? It was enough to make him wish he still had the implant if only to ease the anxiety. He didn't dare to drink. He didn't want anything impairing either his ability or his senses. He had never allowed himself to hope that the dear young man would return his attraction or feelings. Now that it had been thrown unexpectedly into his lap, he hardly knew what to do with it. Did he really want to take this risk?
This was no mere dalliance, he knew, no scratching of an itch, as impersonal as riding on a public shuttle with someone and getting off at separate stops, never to see one another again. He couldn't leave this station. Come good or ill with the Starfleet officer, the two of them were stuck in this place together. If things did go badly or turn sour, they'd still see one another nearly every day on the Promenade. There were also their lunches to consider. He would never admit to Julian how much those lunches meant, what a life line the man had been for him in his long, painful exile. Did he truly want to jeopardize that in order to take it to the next level?
With a start, he realized he hadn't thought of Palandine in almost four months, not once. No, his thoughts had turned more and more toward the young doctor, anchoring the tailor firmly in the here and now and crowding out the demons of his past. What would Tain do if he discovered, as he inevitably would, that Garak had taken things a step further than enjoying the comfort of a friendship? Would he go after the doctor to spite his son? He wouldn't put it past him.
As he considered all of these issues and many more besides, he tidied his already pin neat quarters, washed himself very thoroughly and carefully, and discarded close to half a dozen outfits before settling on a black tunic with silver scroll work on the sleeves, fitted black pants, boots and a leather belt. He combed his hair to a high gloss and looked in his full length mirror with a critical eye. “You eat too much spice pudding,” he told himself in disgust, not happy with the width of his midriff. What was he doing, going after this boy who was over twenty-five years his junior? It didn't matter that the average Cardassian lifespan exceeded the average human one. The age difference was significant. He's no more boy than Major Kira is a girl, he countered. Age isn't everything.
He replicated some flowers, only to discard them less than fifteen minutes later. About thirty minutes before Julian usually got off work, he replicated more and arranged them in an empty vase. He doesn't have to know they haven't been here for a few days, he thought. Should he have food? He should probably have something besides kanar! He had never seen Julian even try to drink kanar. It was too late to leave his quarters. The doctor could arrive early, and what would he think if he did only to find Garak not there?
Reluctantly, he put a private call through to Quark's. Fortune must have been smiling on him, he thought, as Rom was the one to answer the hail. “I know it's a bit of an unusual request, but could I have a chilled bottle of Verdelet delivered to my quarters right away?”
“I don't see why not,” Rom said after craning his neck around to be sure Quark wasn't there to overhear. “Is it OK with you if I deliver it? You can just, uh, pay me directly.”
“That's fine, Rom,” Garak said. “I'll see you shortly.” With the way Quark treated his brother, Garak had no qualms about letting the man profit a little on the side if he could get away with it. Less than a minute later, his door chimed. With a sinking feeling, he knew there was no way Rom could have gotten there so quickly. It had to be Julian, a little early. “Calm yourself,” he murmured. Straightening and squaring his shoulders, he called cheerfully, “Enter!”
Julian stepped through the door, dressed in a fitted navy tunic and dark chocolate trousers. Garak's breath caught in his throat, but he managed a smile. “I'm glad you came,” he said. As so often happened when he was nervous, once he began to talk, he couldn't quite shut it off. “You're a bit early. I've sent for some wine, since I don't believe you like kanar. You don't like kanar, do you? It's no matter. I hope you do like Verdelet. Rom will be bringing it. Fortunate, no? Quark might ask questions or talk, but Rom keeps his head down and his mouth shut.”
The entire time he spoke, Julian had been smiling, the smile deepening in increments. “Elim,” he said finally, “breathe.”
“I do sometimes get verbose, don't I?” he asked. He wondered how it was that he was undoubtedly the more experienced of the two, and yet he seemed the most nervous. Focusing more on Julian and less on his own racing thoughts, he realized that while the young man might seem calm on the surface, his pupils were wide, his face slightly flushed, and his pulse very visible. So the playing field is more level than I thought, he thought, able to relax somewhat. “I'm being a terrible host. Can I get you anything while we wait for Rom?”
The doctor shook his head and crossed to take a seat on Garak's sofa. He perched toward the front, his back straight and hands clasped neatly over both knees. “No, thank you,” he said. “You look very nice. I've always liked that tunic.”
“Thank you,” Garak replied. “You look very nice, too. Those colors do wonders for your complexion.” The door chime sounded. “I'll only be a moment,” he said, fetching some leks from the back and answering. He blocked Rom's view of the room by standing squarely in the doorway. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, taking the bottle and thrusting payment toward the Ferengi.
“You're welcome,” Rom said as he took the money. He tried to look around the imposing Cardassian unsuccessfully. “So, uh, are you entertaining?”
“Indeed I am,” Garak said with a bland smile. “I must get back to my guest now. Good-bye, Rom.” He stepped back, and the door slid shut. “I may have spoken too soon when I said he wouldn't be inquisitive.” He turned, only to find Julian standing not so far away. Hearing always had been his weakest sense.
The man took the bottle of wine from him and set it aside on his dining table. “I...I've never...” he said, looking perplexed. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I've never really been with a man,” he said, “or a Cardassian, male or female. I hope I don't...”
The tailor felt something inside him melt. That Julian would worry about such things as much as he had touched him deeply. He set aside his uncertainty and took both warm hands in his cool ones. “My dear Doctor, you don't have to worry about a thing. I won't push you to anything past your comfort. You set the pace, and if you need to stop...”
Julian leaned in then, pressing a warm, soft kiss to Garak's lips. They twined the fingers of their joined hands, tan and gray. His lips were softer than Garak had expected, their fullness sensual and slow in their exploration. They kept their eyes open, lids at half mast. So close, Garak could see more of the green and gold, astonished at the intensity of the colors flecking the brown. The last traces of his nerves melted away with the deepening of the kiss, their tongues twining and lightly thrusting. He let his eyes slide shut and surrendered more of himself to sensation.
They released one another's hands. Garak felt Julian's arms slip about his waist and tighten, the clasp of hands over his broad back, and he lifted his hands to cup the soft, smooth face so close to his own. He had never engaged with the Bajorans the way so many of his fellow Cardassians had during the occupation, but as he lightly traced Bashir's cheeks and jaw and felt the velvety soft nub of an earlobe, he thought he was beginning to understand why they did. He could lose himself in that alone for longer than he believed the doctor would have patience to tolerate.
Tangling his fingers in the wavy hair, her marveled at how different it felt from any Cardassian hair, wiry and short. His jaw worked with the kiss, both men now chest to chest, groin to groin, pulling one another tighter and as close as they could get. Julian moaned softly into Garak's mouth, the breath captured and shared. He was exquisite, everything Garak had hoped he would be and more, so beautifully responsive.
Julian broke the kiss, his eyes now black as night, pupils as wide as they would go. “I want to see you, Garak,” he whispered. “I've never seen you.”
The Cardassian felt his breath hitch, a small stab of self-consciousness causing him to hesitate. “Cardassians...we don't really...”
“I know,” the man nuzzled his neck, his hot breath pulsing gently against the sensitive scales there. “I don't think I've ever seen you in anything that didn't cover you to everything but your hands, neck and head. Please,” he said.
“You saw me in a hospital gown,” Garak stalled.
Julian grinned wickedly and bit down on the scale ridge just beneath Garak's ear, muttering through his clench of teeth, “That doesn't count.”
Intense pleasure lanced straight down every nerve ending to his groin, his breath hissing through his teeth on a sharp inhale. “All right, all right,” he said breathlessly. “You've convinced me.” Pressing his lips together, he stepped back and began unfastening the hidden hooks at the front of his tunic. He would later reflect that he could have done this more artfully. At the time, he was surprised he had enough wits about him to do it at all. Lowering his gaze, he shrugged out of the tunic, carefully folded it, and set it aside.
Julian watched him, his lips twitching as he tried to avoid cutting a smile. “So fastidious,” he remarked.
“Yes, I am,” Garak replied with no trace of irony. Resigned that his spice pudding addiction had betrayed him, he tugged his form fitting undershirt over his head. Before he could get it off, he heard Julian gasp and found himself glad that in that instant that he couldn't see his face. Just as he pulled free, he felt Julian's hands tracing the evenly scalloped scales of his ribcage and his mouth at the top of the inverted teardrop scale of his sternum. He drew with his lips and dipped his tongue into the indentation. Garak released a shuddering breath and cupped the back of the man's head, his other hand braced on a shoulder. “That is...unbelievably wicked of you,” he gasped. “Criminal, even.”
“What's criminal is that you hide yourself away under all those thick clothes,” the doctor murmured. “You're beautiful.”
“Oh, Doctor,” he sighed, his head tipping back and eyes closing. He allowed the sensual exploration of his scales, his pectoral and dorsal ridges, anything that Julian wanted to kiss, lick, or touch, front and back. No small part of him wanted to seize the man and ravage him, to take what he had denied himself for so very long. Perhaps some other time he knew that he would, but not a moment before Julian told him that he was ready for that. For now, he let the desire build, a slow burn that was much hotter than any quick explosion of need, spent and gone in an instant. The front of his trousers was soaked with his moisture, and he had long since erupted from the ridged slit that protected his sex organ when it wasn't in use. A thick, heady scent, a combination of Julian's arousal and his own, grew stronger with each passing moment.
He felt the doctor fumbling at his waistband, the man kneeling before him and looking up with passion glazed eyes. Gently, he guided his hands to the proper hooks and snaps and let him release the taut pressure of the fabric. He gasped softly as cold air assaulted him, but it didn't last more than a few seconds. Julian took one look at him, groaned, and drew him deeply into his mouth, sliding downward with steady suction. Garak's knees tried to buckle, and he bit back an outcry. So much for worrying about their differences!
“Wait,” he said hoarsely, drawing back and kneeling, too. He deftly removed Julian's tunic and tugged down his trousers. There was so much he wanted to do to him, but that was what seconds, thirds, and more were for. In that moment, he wanted only to be able to share the intense pleasure, to give as well as receive. He lay back flat on the floor, guiding the doctor with his hands until he could tell he knew what he intended.
He slid atop Garak, the heat of his skin searing hot in comparison to the cool scales. Spreading his knees well to either side of Garak's neck, he lowered his hips. Soon, both of them completed the circle, each taking the other, tasting, lapping, and suckling. He tasted exquisite, salty, sharp, and musky. Garak made good use of his long, muscular tongue and took great pleasure in the sounds and tremors he coaxed from his partner. He stroked and kneaded Julian's slim hips and the firm twin curves of his haunches, alternately raking with his nails and the rough side of his small palm scales. Before long the doctor was bucking and thrashing, trying to push into the grasp of Garak's hands and into his drawing mouth simultaneously. The noises Julian made deep in his throat vibrated his mouth, a sensation that came close to pushing Garak past the edge of his control.
He pulled off of Garak only long enough to say, “I'm very close, Garak. If you don't want me to come in your mouth, you should pull back.”
Smiling inwardly at the sweet consideration, he simply redoubled his efforts in answer. Sweat rolled off of Julian's body and trickled in rivulets between Garak's scales, tickling him all over and pooling beneath him wetly. He wrapped his tongue tightly, thrusting and cork screwing. Julian's rhythm with his mouth broke entirely, and he lifted his head on a long, hoarse cry. Wetness flooded Garak's mouth. He moaned low, lapping at it and carefully slowing, then stopping and letting Julian decide when or if he wanted to pull out. He accepted the welcome weight of his partner sprawled atop his body and raked his nails lightly up and down the smooth back, the skin velvety soft but the muscle beneath well formed.
Julian made an unintelligible noise, paused, and tried again. “That was...I don't have words for how that was,” he said muzzily.
“I get the impression not many people strike you speechless,” Garak said smugly.
“More than manage it for you, I'd think,” Julian mused playfully, lifting and rolling to the side. “I'm going to have to see if I can do that.”
“You're setting yourself a daunting task,” Garak warned with a twinkle in blue eyes.
“Oh, my dear tailor, I love a challenge,” he replied with a truly wicked grin. “You're going to have to help me, though. For example, does this feel good?” He settled languidly between Garak's loosely spread legs and gently stroked a finger at the opening of the ridged slit just beneath his exposed dark member.
Garak's hips lifted of their own volition. “Mnh, yes,” he said, his voice constricted. “You could say that.”
“And this?” he slipped the finger inward, letting the fingertip follow the unexposed curve of Garak's erection.
The Cardassian's back arched away from the floor, and he gasped. “Oh, yes,” he breathed, blue eyes rolling back. His hands pressed against the ungiving plane of the floor, scrabbling futilely for purchase and eventually curling into tight fists. A second finger joined the first, and then a third. Garak had no idea how long the exquisite torture continued. He was thrilled with Julian's willingness to explore, the creative ways he set to wringing every drop of pleasure from him that he possibly could, and the completely endearing way he checked on him when he was inarticulate for too long. “Are you still all right? Do you need me to stop?”
“Yes, no, whatever you do, don't stop,” was always the response he gave to this. His stamina far exceeded Julian's, but Julian was quick to become aroused again, and again after that. By the time he had Garak quivering and on the very edge of release, he had climaxed three times, his creamy seed smeared across the Cardassian's lower belly and his inner thighs. He drew Garak in as deeply and as tightly as he could, pulsing his mouth over the dark, slick flesh in small, powerful motions.
“Julian,” he panted. “If you don't want...”
The man didn't let him finish the sentence, bearing down and pulling hard with his tongue and suction. Pleasure every bit as intense as the wire at its best flooded his body. He rode the crest of the wave, conscious thought driven to a dark, hidden corner of his mind for the duration of the seemingly endless release. Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes and pooled in the pockets of his eye ridges. When he was fully in possession of his faculties again, he found his head cradled in the hollow of Julian's shoulder and his cheek resting against the man's smooth chest. Gentle fingers sifted his hair back from his forehead. “You're back,” Julian whispered and bent his head to press a kiss to Garak's temple.
Garak nodded wordlessly and lifted his hand to stroke softly over the curled chest hairs, fingers curved inward and the backs of his nails dragging lightly over brown skin. “You're beautiful, too,” he said, glancing upward to meet soft brown eyes. He had never in his life seen such a look directed his way. It burned him, and when he realized he could put a name to it, it frightened him a little, more when he felt its echo rising in his breast and threatening to overwhelm all logic and sense. I could love this man, he marveled. I think part of me already does.
Rising to one elbow, he leaned against Julian's side and brushed damp curls from his high forehead. A small smile played upon the human's swollen lips, bruised from the force of their kisses. Garak traced his lips with his fingertip, answering his smile when he suckled the tip past his teeth and teased it with his tongue. “Come to bed?” the tailor offered tentatively, wondering if the doctor would understand the full significance of what he said.
Julian's lips parted in surprise. “You...you want me to sleep here, with you?” he asked.
Garak nodded and glanced away. “Of course, I understand if you can't, or if you don't want to do that.”
Julian shushed him with a tender kiss. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be,” he said, emotion in his cultured tones. “Come on, then, before you get cold.” He stood first and offered a hand up to Garak who accepted it willingly.
Arm in arm, they walked into the bedroom, both knowing fully well that things had changed irrevocably between them. Garak chose not to give too much thought to the future, having learned in his exile how to appreciate the moment for its full worth and leave tomorrow to its own devices. He hadn't slept with another, truly slept, since his days in the dorm at the Bamarren Institute for State Intelligence, and then it wasn't by choice. Belatedly, he wondered if Julian snored. Smiling as he climbed into the narrow bed beside him, he realized he would soon find out.
The End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 11:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 12:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 12:12 pm (UTC)Although, I can see that I really need to finish reading a Stitch in Time.
LOVED THIS SO MUCH! NEEDS CAPS!!
(Oh, and never has this icon of mine been THIS fitting!)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 12:46 pm (UTC)LOVE the icon!! They're such a cute couple, aren't they?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 12:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 05:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-08 06:07 pm (UTC)LOVE the icon!! <3
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-09 12:57 am (UTC)+mem because this is just seriously beautiful.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-09 09:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-09 05:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-09 09:12 am (UTC)I'll have to leave any bad stuff for any sequels. Hee!!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-14 10:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-15 03:27 am (UTC)New story
Date: 2009-12-09 05:31 pm (UTC)Re: New story
Date: 2009-12-09 09:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-10 03:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-10 04:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-12 07:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-12 10:33 am (UTC)Alien anatomy is fun to play around with. I started thinking about how armored and generally invulnerable Cardassians look in clothes, and suddenly constantly exposed sex organs made no sense to me in that species. I'm happy to know you liked that little detail. Thanks again for reading and taking the time to share your thoughts!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-14 10:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-15 03:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-30 01:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-01 11:42 pm (UTC)