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Garak had always felt that, in more cases than not, there was a greater pleasure in the wanting of the thing than in actually having it.
Julian Bashir was certainly testing the limits of this belief.
It had all started simply enough. When the good doctor had joined the Federation relief corps for Cardassia Prime nearly a year ago, he'd asked to be assigned to Garak's district, offering the reasoning that he could stay with his friend and save them the trouble of arranging his accommodations. Garak had agreed, tentatively, warning the doctor that his barebones flat on the outskirts of the city likely wouldn't meet with a Federaji standard of living. But Julian insisted he didn't mind.
There was only one bedroom, so he'd strung up some canvas as a dividing wall for Julian's personal space. (The doctor had flatly refused to take the actual bedroom for himself, no matter how much Garak insisted.) Losing half of his already cramped living room was hardly a sacrifice at all, if it meant keeping Julian here.
And so it went.
They had of course been friends on the station, but this was a level of intimacy that Garak could not have prepared himself for. The whole place smelled of him. A tin of Tarkalean tea crammed into the cabinets, human soap by the sink, and of course the man himself. Wandering through Garak's space in various states of undress, never bothering to hide it when his morning erections tented his pajamas on his way into the 'fresher. (Garak had done several furious bouts of research the first time he'd noticed it - the fact that it seemed to be both quite normal and likely non-sexual was somehow both reassuring and deeply disappointing.)
Today, Garak sat at their tiny kitchen table, wedged mostly into the corner. Julian always took the seat closest to the wall, leaving the roomier one for Garak - an unspoken concession to his particular weakness. Even so, this place would have felt suffocating, did feel suffocating before Julian came. But now, despite the fact that things were objectively more cramped, Garak felt as though the little place had expanded somehow.
Right on cue, the man himself emerged from the 'fresher, a threadbare towel slung low around his waist. "Good news, there's plenty of hot water left for you."
"I don't know how you're going to survive the summer," Garak commented offhandedly, allowing himself only the quickest of glances before looking back down to his PADD.
"Oh, Starfleet is sending some new supplies for the personnel. They're supposed to come today. This is hardly the first time we've had people stationed in the heat, I imagine they have all kinds of fancy technology to keep us comfortable. Or functional , at least."
"I should certainly hope so."
"I still have my regular rotations between all the unpacking we'll have to do, so I'll probably be home late. Don't wait up." He threw a charming smile over his shoulder before he walked behind the curtain that separated his makeshift bedroom.
"I never do," Garak lied.
For his part, Garak had been leading the efforts to salvage textiles and recycle them into clothing, tents, dust masks, and other necessities for the past few months. Some of his young assistants had recently run supplies into Kardasi'or to the rubble clearing crews, and had come back with the news that more masks and durable clothing were sorely needed, as quickly as they could make them. And so he found himself working long hours as well, and for a week or two, he and his dear doctor were very much like two ships passing in the night. (Or the very early morning, as the case might be).
The summer was growing hotter by the day, and he dearly hoped Julian had been correct about the new Federation supplies. He'd also been told (and verified through independent research) that humans could adapt to extreme temperatures rather well, given enough time, but the risk of heatstroke and severe dehydration was still very present in the meantime.
Finally, one morning he came home to see that Julian had actually beat him there. The curtain to his room had gotten caught on a small stack of crates that hadn't been there the night before, leaving the doctor's sleeping area visible from the main part of the room. In order to reach the 'fresher for a badly needed shower, Garak had to pass just a few feet from his bed, where the man himself was sprawled out under a thin sheet.
He shouldn't look at him - not like this, when he couldn't even know.
But there was something - just above his collarbone -
Garak stared. He couldn't help it. There was no mistaking it now, the little cluster of bruises at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Love bites , humans called them. The term in Kardasi was somewhat less romantic, but held the same implications.
Garak quickly retreated into the 'fresher and shut himself in - which immediately proved itself to be a terrible idea, but what other choice did he have?
His vision was down to a pinprick as he turned on the shower and stepped into the tiny stall. He tried to remember his training, his counseling, the tricks Julian had taught him. They all gelled together in his mind and he couldn't remember where to start - when to stop - breathing - breathing was important. He could do that.
He could breathe.
He tried not to imagine the circumstances. The arguments - or perhaps the gentler human-style flirting, who could say? Any Cardassian worth their salt would have left teeth marks, would have marred that gorgeous neck enough that there would be absolutely no doubt who he belonged to.
Arousal and sick jealousy warred in his body as the water trickled over him and eventually, automatically shut itself off. He stood there for a while longer, staring at the wall, staring at nothing.
So he's found a lover.
He stabbed a thick needle into some particularly stubborn canvas.
You knew this would happen. In fact, you thought it would happen a lot sooner.
"Garak, do you have scissors?"
They were rusty, dull, but better than nothing. He handed them to the child, blades facing himself, like he'd been taught.
When? By whom? He didn't remember. (That was a lie. It was easier not to remember Mila when he could manage it.)
"Thank you."
He could almost hear the unspoken honorifics - even here, he always refused to be called anything other than plain, simple Garak.
To even sit here thinking about something so foolish - so sentimental - felt repulsive. But this was the work he was suited for, and even if he were clearing rubble by hand he would still think of Julian. That had been the one constant, the greatest blessing and curse of his life for the better part of a decade now.
When had Julian even found the time? Garak had seen him in crisis situations before, and he barely took the time to eat and sleep, let alone have any kind of sexual dalliances. Perhaps it was simply a matter of how long he'd been here. He could only stay in crisis mode for so long before his baser urges began to surface.
Baser urges - strong words from someone who has been furtively masturbating in your sad little bedroom when you hear him get in the shower.
Garak scowled at no one.
Just the thought of him wet and naked in your little hovel drives you to distraction - how do you think he'd feel if he knew? If he could see how clearly you've painted him in your mind? What you imagine him doing to you?
Garak stabbed the needle straight through on the first try, this time.
He knows. He must know. I never made a secret of it, did I?
You propositioned him once, years ago. You were strangers. Now you're meant to be his friend, and you imagine him like this? Disgusting.
It doesn't matter. He doesn't really want me. He never did. The coquetry was a game to him, just like the spycraft - his heart was never in it. That is even more obvious now. Every objection he might have had is gone now. His darkest secret is already exposed. I worked by his side breaking codes for Starfleet. I killed my own people to free them from the Dominion. I could hardly be less like the man he met in the replimat. By his every standard, I am better. I have done better. Still - I am not good enough for him.
Now you're finally talking sense.
It had been two weeks since they'd spoken more than a few words to each other in passing. Garak, abruptly deciding that his carpal tunnels needed a rest, volunteered to take some new bedding and bandages to the hospital rather than letting his young helpers take the job.
His mind swirled with images of what he might find if he asked after Dr. Bashir. Would they stammer and try to put him off, knowing he was occupied with some pretty young thing in a supply closet or on-call room? Would they just roll their eyes? Would they pity him for his obvious regard towards such a mercurial young man?
About halfway to the hospital, he made himself stop and breathe. The sun was beating down on his scales, and he wasn't immune to just taking a moment to bask in it - after so long with the bone-deep chill of exile, it was still a unique pleasure to feel slightly too warm.
The hot summer wind kicked up slightly, and he pulled up his dust mask. It was time to move on.
He reached the hospital in record time, left his cart at the door and stepped inside, peeling off his mask as he went. The young orderly took one glance at him, smiled a little, and disappeared down the hall.
"Doctor Bash- eaaaaar !" she called out, in the kind of sing-songy tone that would have been completely inappropriate in a professional environment before the Fire.
The man himself appeared moments later, wearing baggy scrubs and his trademark face-splitting grin. "Garak - you never make your own deliveries!"
"There is a first time for everything, I suppose." Garak stood there a bit stiffly as Julian, clearly having learned a great deal of etiquette from his coworkers, came up and offered him a polite, forward-facing palm in greeting.
Garak returned it, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the strange, close-fitted necklace that was clasped around the base of Julian's throat.
"My dear Doctor…what is that you're wearing on your neck?" He thought he did a good job of managing to keep his voice lighthearted, his tone superficially polite.
"This?" Julian laughed a little. "Oh, right. I forgot you haven't seen it before. They came in the last shipment, it's a temperature-regulating device. Fits around the neck to cool the pulse points there directly - it's pretty brilliant, actually. I just wish it wasn't so loose on me. The battery side is a bit heavy and it jostles right here -" He tapped just above his collarbone, directly over the bruises, then winced. " Ow . Anyway, I can't really complain - it does help a lot with the heat."
"I suppose it's a small price to pay," Garak sniffed, hoping to play the whole thing off as sartorial snobbery.
You hopeless idiot.
They weren't even love bites.
You were tied up in fits of jealousy over a gulsdamned necklace.
He'd been wrong. He'd gone through a private grieving process for a relationship that had never existed, only to realize that his assumption was completely wrong-headed. There never was anyone else. Julian was still -
No. He was never yours for the taking.
The orderly had slipped away, leaving them quite alone in the hallway. Garak wondered why Julian didn't seem to be reacting to the loud buzzing sound that was filling the whole room, until it occurred to him that it was in his own head.
"Garak?" He heard the voice dimly, over the noise. "Garak - hey, look at me -"
He came back to awareness humiliatingly slowly. His limbs felt heavy, and he realized he was lying on one of the cots that were intended for patients. At least there didn't appear to be anyone else here.
Except Julian, of course.
"You're a little dehydrated," Julian was saying. "By human standards, anyway. I gave you some subcutaneous fluids just in case. But you always assure me that Cardassians are made of sterner stuff, so I'm certain that's not what caused your…"
He seemed to be searching for a word that wouldn't offend Garak. After a few moments, he gave up.
"It's nothing," Garak assured him. "I just haven't been sleeping well lately."
"Well, I can prescribe something for that."
"I'd rather keep my wits about me."
Julian rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself."
It was obvious to both of them that Garak had simply suffered a panic attack, which was the only reason Julian wasn't pushing harder to treat his imaginary condition. Garak waited patiently for the other shoe to drop.
"So," he said finally, rotating around in his little wheeled stool. It must have come from the supply drops, because Garak was certain nothing of the sort had ever existed in the hospital, even before the bombardments. "I'm going to make some red leaf tea, would you care for a cup?"
"Don't you have patients?"
"Mmm. They do allow us to take breaks occasionally, you know."
He realized they weren't in a patient room after all, but perhaps one of the on-call rooms. There was a tiny kitchenette in the corner, to which Julian went and set on some water to boil.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said, with his back to Garak. "But I'm pretty sure I did something to trigger this, and I'd rather know, so I can avoid doing it again."
"I assure you, you've done nothing of the sort."
Julian made a small noise of irritation. "Right, so I suppose my temperature regulator really is so hideous that it sent you into fits."
"That must be it." Garak took the offered cup of tea, avoiding the eyes of the man who'd made it.
Julian smiled at him. "You know - when I was a kid people used to tell me I was overthinking everything. Of course, I was actually ten steps ahead of everyone - half the time to my own detriment, mind you, but ten steps ahead nonetheless. I learned pretty quickly that people just weren't ready to see the tapestry from the other side, and if I wanted to fix something or warn someone or take action to change the inevitable outcome, I would have to manipulate the situation in more subtle ways. Mind you, it doesn't come naturally to me. It never did. Any skills I gained in that arena were purely by necessity. And then one day I met you - and you did the same sorts of things, but you really seemed to enjoy it. I always found that rather fascinating. Me, I could never quite shake the urge to run into the room like a scientist in one of our old disaster films, yelling at everyone that they just need to see the big picture. And you? You were so much happier just dropping hints like breadcrumbs and leading people along the path. I tried to learn to love it, the way you seemed to - I really did try. But it's never been my strong suit. And now that everyone knows what I am, I don't really have to play those games. I can say 'I've done the calculations, I understand the situation better than anyone else here, just do what I say, goddamn it!' And half the time everyone still ignores me."
He paused here, laughed a little, and went to take the water off the flame.
Garak rolled his eyes, though the annoying little thrill that went through him every time Julian spoke so casually about his superhuman abilities was stronger than ever. "I had hoped that a few months in the Cardassian healthcare system would humble you. I see it has only made you worse."
"If there's anything I've learned from my Cardassian colleagues, it's that where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation." He was pouring the water over the tea leaves, very carefully.
"If you quote Austen at me I'm leaving against medical advice."
"That's fair enough. My point was - well, I suppose I've never been good at playing your game. I can see all the pieces and I think I know the gambit, but I'm running out of patience."
"You, impatient? I find that difficult to believe." He took the proffered mug of tea.
"I think I've been very patient with you, Mr. Garak."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to."
Julian was giving him a look . That one he always did - part chiding and part impish, and entirely intoxicating.
"I typically don't take this off at work," he said, indicating the necklace. "But I did the other day, and Dr. Tanlak saw me afterwards and made a comment about the marks on my neck - how I must've finally -" He stopped here, something like guilt creeping in his face, and stopped. "Anyway, it doesn't matter what she said. The point is, she obviously thought they were from a person ."
"I suppose that's an understandable mistake."
"I realized I always take it off when I shower, and charge it at night - so you very likely saw the bruises at some point, and simply had the good grace not to mention it."
"That does sound like me."
"And you might have easily made the same assumption that she did. The only question I can't answer is - why did it only bother you when you realized I hadn't been letting someone suck on my neck?" Julian leaned forward a bit, and Garak felt himself inching a little further upright, almost defensively.
Garak cleared his throat. "Perhaps I'm concerned about your health. A flagging libido can be a symptom of any number of afflictions, as I would assume you're aware, Doctor."
"My libido is fine," Julian replied.
"Is it?"
" Now you're suddenly taking an interest?" He actually had the gall to sound irritated.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Garak snapped.
"You know what it means, Garak." Julian was starting to look genuinely angry, inching closer on his seat.
The tailor folded his arms across his chest. "I'm afraid I don't."
"Oh, really!" Julian exclaimed. "So you haven't been strutting around with your ridges and chula out on purpose, then?"
"Lower your voice, Doctor," Garak muttered. "And no, as it happens…" The weight of the words hit him all at once, and the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat.
Julian seemed to freeze and withdraw then, his jaw suddenly tight. Garak stared at the muscle twitching there to avoid looking in his eyes. "I - I'm sorry," he said, very softly. " Shit . I thought…"
Garak swallowed with an effort and forced himself to speak. "What did you think?"
"Nothing. It's nothing. Forget it."
"Julian -"
His jaw twitched again. "I said forget it."
"I don't know that I can ."
Julian's eyes flicked back to his face and Garak's chest fairly ached with everything he saw there - such a familiar set of emotions, guilt and shame and the sick fear of losing his dearest friend if he said the wrong thing, made the wrong move.
"Oh, my dear - I didn't mean -" Garak was reaching out to him, snatching one of those gorgeous, graceful hands before he really knew what he was doing. "I would never want to forget. Only I hadn't realized that you…that I…"
"Garak." That voice, so soft and gentle, although the frustration thrummed underneath the surface. "How could you not ?"
"I may have been preoccupied," he confessed, unable to meet Julian's eyes anymore but stroking his soft, smooth hand with one scaled and calloused thumb. " You have been showing more skin than usual as well, I'm sure you're aware. It has been…very distracting."
"Oh, has it?" The exasperation was still there, but there was a husky edge of something else in his voice now. Garak's heart was hammering in his chest.
"I assumed it was because of the heat - I didn't dare think -"
"Oh, it's because of the heat alright," Julian growled, evidently out of patience entirely, because the next thing he did was lunge forward and kiss Garak so forcefully that their noses smashed together and their teeth clashed. Garak let out a startled noise into his mouth, and Julian froze again, but before he could pull away, Garak grabbed him firmly by the back of the neck and held him there.
The muffled moan that Julian let out then - Garak couldn't have imagined a more arousing sound, not even in his most self-indulgent fantasies. The doctor leaned in closer, planting a knee on the thin mattress for leverage. His tongue, hot and insistent, slithered into Garak's mouth and seemed to revel in the taste of it. The cot creaked under their combined weight.
Garak had both his hands under Julian's shirt when the doctor finally broke away from the kiss and pulled back. Humiliatingly, he heard himself whine a little at the loss of contact, at the loss of heat .
Julian took hold of one wrist, gently. "Not here," he murmured.
Garak gave him a baleful look. His ridges throbbed .
"I know." Julian extracted one of Garak's hands from under his shirt, then the other, pausing to turn it over and plant a little kiss on the inside of his wrist. "I started it. I'm sorry."
"You certainly did," Garak muttered.
"It's my work . It's a hospital . We can't." Julian sighed, finally releasing his hand. "I'll see you tonight?"
"You see me every night," Garak sighed, resigned.
"Not always. I mean, try to get home early if you can. And I'll do the same." He cleared his throat, raking his hands through his hair. "We can - we should talk."
"Talk?" Garak echoed, incredulously.
"Or just - pick up where we left off. If you want to." The way Julian's eyes skittered, the way he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. It was… wonderful .
"Very well," said Garak primly, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his wits about him. "Tonight, then."
The wait was torturous.
Garak went through the rest of his day in a daze, returning to his workshop and absently cutting out dust masks to pattern while his assistants handled the actual work. He wanted to ensure that he didn't arrive home too early, because the wait without distractions would be even worse, but what if he was late? He didn't want to miss even a moment of whatever might happen between him and Julian tonight.
In the end, he set out for home an hour before sunset and arrived to an empty flat. It was a relief, but a bittersweet one. He showered thoroughly, scrubbing between every scale, then paced the limited floor space until he started to feel like a caged animal.
When he finally heard the click of the lock disengaging, he froze, heart hammering in his throat. The door slid open, and there he was - Julian, his Julian, looking as beautiful as ever, maybe more so.
"Hullo," the doctor said, with a small smile. Not shy , certainly. Julian could be many things, but he was never shy.
He stepped inside, set his bag down, and hesitated. For a moment, they just watched each other, waiting for the next move.
"I need a shower," Julian said at last.
Garak hummed noncommittally. He watched as Julian grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, mussing his hair, then balled it up and tossed it into the corner by his bed. Garak sighed theatrically; Julian chuckled.
Then he walked to the 'fresher, and disappeared inside.
He didn't shut the door.
It was so very much like one of Garak's fantasies that he almost feared he would wake any moment. But he couldn't risk leaving his intentions unclear, so he followed Julian into the small room, which suddenly felt so much larger.
There he was, naked, slick with water and Starfleet issue body wash. His natural soft curls were plastered down to his head now, soaking wet, as he lifted his face to the spray.
He was doing such a good job of pretending Garak wasn't there that the Cardassian actually started to wonder if he had misjudged his welcome. But then Julian tossed his head back, flicking the hair out of his face, and looked over his shoulder.
Garak became keenly aware he did not know how to stand, what to do with his hands. He was quite literally dumbstruck - not exactly how he had imagined he would conduct himself in this situation.
"Perhaps you ought to save some water for the rest of the neighborhood," he said, finally.
Julian laughed and reached over to shut off the tap. Lean muscles shifted under golden-brown skin, droplets of water clinging to the long lines of his body. "I spend less time in here than you do."
"Patently untrue," Garak insisted, his breath catching as Julian stepped out of the tub and went for his towel.
"I still don't understand," he said, running the towel up the side of his body. "Why didn't you react when you first noticed the bruises?"
Garak considered for a moment, then elected to tell something like the truth. "You were asleep."
"Oh." Julian paused, smiled at the floor.
"The curtain must've been…accidentally left open," Garak continued.
"Quite accidentally, I'm sure." His lips pursed slightly, and he still wasn't looking at Garak. "I had planned to be awake when you got home. Or at least, I thought I'd wake up when you came in. But you go on sneaking around in your own flat like a -"
"Spy?" Garak suggested.
Finally, Julian looked up. They smiled at each other.
"I don't know what I was thinking," Julian confessed, hanging the towel on one of the hooks by the door. There were two, now - unmatched, because the second had been salvaged and installed after Julian had come. It was slightly off center, slightly too low, and Garak had kept meaning to fix it. Julian had never given any indication that he noticed. "Sometimes that curtain felt like a wall. Insurmountable. You never breached it."
"I was not invited."
Julian shook his head, his smile taking on something slightly sadder. "You really have changed, Elim."
"For the better, I thought."
"You don't even watch my comms anymore," Julian said, ignoring the implicit question.
"Perhaps I've just gotten better at hiding it."
"If you had been, you wouldn't have thought I was fucking someone else." Julian took a few steps towards him, until there was only a scant breath between their faces. "Ah, now you're curious what I've been saying about you."
The truth was, he had been afraid to know. Afraid to find out how much - or how little - Julian still thought of him.
Julian stepped in close. Closer. Their faces were a breath apart, and then he pressed one quick, warm kiss Garak's slightly parted lips.
"So I was sleeping," Julian said, tilting his head back just enough to give the words space. "And then we hardly saw each other for the past two weeks - did you spend that whole time trying to come to terms with it? Did you finally accept it, finally decide you'd gotten your answer and now you could just quietly mourn and move on? And then you came to the hospital - and you realized you were wrong."
Garak swallowed with an effort. "How melodramatic."
Julian sighed. "I'm sorry, Elim."
The answer came automatically. "You don't look sorry."
"I am, though." This time Julian's lips brushed his chufa , and he shuddered. "But I'll make it up to you."
The clothes Garak wore now, on the new Cardassia, were a very different style to his thick, tailored outfits on the station. And so when Julian pulled him in, the heat of his skin burned right through the material. His hands slid up under the loose shirt and Garak lifted his arms, let him pull it off and toss it aside. Julian's mouth was on his, hot tongue probing inside, strong and relentless and very much hinting at other orifices it might be able to explore. Julian's hands, roaming his body, tracing the patterns of his scales. He gripped the narrow hips that were pressed against him, feeling the growing heat that began to swell and twitch against his thigh.
Julian finally broke the kiss - the long series of kisses - it was difficult to say where one ended and the next began. He paused, just breathing, letting their foreheads rest together, letting Garak set the pace now.
But Garak felt frozen in place. He needed to reciprocate, to do something , but all he could do was try to catch his breath. Julian pulled away a little, and Garak felt a stab of panic that it was all about to end, but he still couldn't bring himself to move.
"Hey," Julian said softly. "Look at me."
Garak did.
"Let's sit down for a minute," Julian went on. "There's no rush."
Garak's stomach twisted at the feeling that he was being treated like spun glass, like a delicate maiden who had to be eased into bed.
"I know there isn't," he muttered, peevish.
Julian chuckled a little, pulling him out into the main room. "I just mean I'm not going anywhere. And I meant what I said earlier. We can just talk for a while. I'll get dressed, we can have some tea - seriously, it's fine."
He was so sweetly earnest, even while naked and aroused, and it should have been irritating but it made a warmth bloom open in Garak's chest.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, but his tone had no bite. He sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbing Julian's hips and pulling him close before he had a chance to demur. "I think we've done plenty of talking."
"Yes, well. Not about this ." Julian climbed up, one knee at a time, until he was straddling Garak's thighs. He rested his forearms on the Cardassian's shoulder ridges and smiled. "But if you're sure."
"I've been sure ," Garak growled, pulling him impossibly closer, "since the moment I met you."
Julian laughed, low in his chest. He nuzzled up against Garak's neck ridges, already beginning to flare with arousal. "That's very flattering," he murmured, his breath hot against the swollen flesh between the scutes.
"Do you doubt it?" Garak asked.
"No," Julian admitted, and Garak could hear the smug grin in his voice. "Not really."
Here, in Julian's bed - Julian in his lap - he finally, finally gave himself over to it. His teeth, his fingers, that clever, hot little tongue. Sitting like this, there was no room for Garak to fully evert, so his sot'l strained against his pubic bone. It was a delicious kind of ache, growing into a throbbing so intense he couldn't tell anymore if it was pain or pleasure. Julian gnawed and sucked and massaged his neck ridges with such skill and dedication that Garak briefly wondered if he had been practicing on someone, but the thought dissipated when those blunt human teeth sank especially hard into his kinhat'u .
All at once, a vivid image of Julian's relentless, impassive face that day in the holosuite filled his mind. His sot'l , apparently incapable of waiting, jumped so forcefully inside its sheath that he shifted his hips instinctively to give it room to slide out.
The motion also had the side effect of pushing up into Julian, who made a soft sound in the back of his throat and ground down against him. The fabric of his trousers rasped against his newly exposed erection, and he hissed.
"Wait -" he heard himself say, and Julian was jumping to his feet before he could finish his sentence. The human made a picture - lips swollen, eyes dark, cock flushed dark and straining upwards to his taut stomach.
"Sorry," he said, voice rough. He cleared his throat. "I didn't - was I crowding you?"
"No," Garak said empathically, but he quickly realized there was no dignified way to explain his predicament. He shifted slightly, trying to subtly adjust himself, but of course he'd forgotten his soon-to-be lover was a genius and there was no point in trying to hide anything from him at all.
"Oh," Julian said, with a little smile tugging at his mouth. "Here - can I help?"
He was reaching for the fastenings of Garak's trousers and of course, of course he said yes - nodded emphatically as those clever surgeon's fingers freed him, lifting his hips to allow it, feeling ridiculous and thrilled.
In all of his fantasies he'd skipped over this - this moment where Julian really looked at him, crouched between his legs, hands stroking down his thighs. The doctor licked his lips.
"I'd like to taste you," he said, so matter-of-factly that Garak had to bite back a laugh. "May I?"
"You may," Garak said, feeling ridiculous. A moment later he hissed, almost yelped, at the sudden sensation of being fully engulfed in warm wetness. He'd thought even Julian would be a little more hesitant, but he took Garak down to the hilt already, until his lips closed around the sensitive ring of microscales at the base.
"Sh - shu'lian ," Garak gasped, lapsing into his natural accent. What followed was a string of obscenities in Kardasi that likely didn't have an exact translation. "Please," he said finally, unsure what he was even asking for.
Julian hummed and continued sucking and massaging with his tongue. There was no time or space in Garak's head to be worried or self-conscious, he could only writhe and shudder with the sensations until they crested (embarrassingly quickly) and he was still debating whether he should warn Julian and risk losing momentum when the decision was very suddenly made for him.
Julian made rather encouraging, if muffled, noises as he swallowed diligently. This was more or less exactly how Garak had imagined him in bed - enthusiastic and dedicated and so eager - and he felt an unbearable fondness bloom open in his chest along with the afterglow.
When the doctor released him, panting a little, Garak pulled him up on the bed and kissed him thoroughly. The taste of himself, the wetness, it was utterly debauched - exactly what one should expect taking an alien mate, and Garak reveled in every bit of it.
He knew exactly what he wanted next, the only trouble was how to ask for it without utterly humiliating himself. Certainly, there was little dignity to be had here, in the arms of the man he'd wanted so desperately for the better part of a decade. But still. There were some things good Cardassians simply weren't meant to do, except in direct service to the state. Put plainly, being penetrated by a Romulan senator in the course of his duties was one thing - and if it so happened that he enjoyed it, well, that was nobody's business but his own. But the man he loved?
Oh, that was another problem entirely.
He was sprawled out on the bed now with Julian on top of him, his stiff human sot'l trapped between their stomachs. It would only take a slight adjustment. Certainly, it had been a while, but Garak never stayed entirely out of practice in these matters. One must always be prepared.
"Garak." A deep kiss. " Elim ."
His eyes contained unspoken multitudes. Garak smiled. "I am at your service, Doctor."
Julian sighed, shook his head, but he was smiling too. His eyes were dark and hazy with lust, and wasn't that something. "What if I fucked you, then? Would you like that?"
No finesse at all. Absurdly blunt. Absolutely no tact. Garak felt himself throb anew.
"Yes," he growled, as Julian applied his teeth and tongue to a neck ridge again.
It happened very quickly after that. Julian was larger than a Romulan, larger than the tool Garak used to keep himself in practice, but he savored the stretch and burn just as surely as if the implant still lit up his brain. Seeing Julian like that, lips twisted into a snarl of pleasure, arms quivering, panting like he'd just run the whole length of the Lakat marketplace at high noon, was almost indescribably beautiful.
And so Garak watched, enraptured, until Julian's movements went jerky and his breaths came sharp and hot.
"Can I -"
"Please," said Garak, trying and perhaps failing not to sound like he was begging for it.
He felt it inside him, the sudden flare of the head, the hot pulses of fluid filling him, like he was worthy, like he was made for this.
Julian collapsed. Garak realized half a moment later that he'd wrapped his arms tightly around the doctor as if to prevent him from rolling off now that the deed was done.
"You're incredible," he breathed against Garak's aural ridge.
Garak elected not to point out that he'd done very little this whole encounter except lie there and make a series of increasingly undignified noises.
"Is that your medical opinion?" he asked instead.
"Absolutely. You know, I'm glad you were the one who broke first."
Garak half-sat abruptly, dislodging the doctor in his indignation. "I'm sorry ?" he demanded. " Broke first ?"
"Well, yeah!" Julian looked slightly annoyed. "You - you passed out in the hallway at the hospital, that's a pretty obvious break to me."
"But I admitted nothing."
"You did! I just had to ask the right questions."
"But in doing so, you betrayed the weak spot in your own armor."
"God," Julian groaned, scraping his hands across his face. "I can't believe you're fighting me on this."
"I can't believe you think of our relationship in such workmanlike terms," Garak sniped.
A moment later, he realized what he'd said.
"Relationship," Julian repeated with a smile. "So that answers that question."
"I only meant -"
"Oh, you really like me," Julian crowed, flopping back on the bed and reaching for Garak's hand even as he did. "How embarrassing for you."
"Are you always like this after sex?"
"Not usually," Julian replied. "I think you're a special case. I feel a bit giddy."
"I suppose I can find a way to shut you up," Garak said, rolling onto his side. He let his hand drift down Julian's body, indulgently, knowing it would be the first of many times.
"You could," Julian agreed. "But you love the sound of my voice almost as much as your own."
Unable to refute the point, Garak simply leaned in and kissed him.