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Chapter Text

The darkened hallways seemed endless, although he knew that they were in reality distressingly finite. His footsteps and his breathing were barely audible over the background hum of machinery that permeated the artificial world around him, this prison that enclosed his every heartbeat. He moved with the habitual stealth of a trained agent of the Obsidian Order, although his career had long lain in ruins and the urge to scream was always present just below the cold grey sheath of his skin.

At 0247 hours on the night of a workday Garak should have been in bed almost three hours previous. He knew this as well, obviously, just as he knew that he'd be cursing himself come 0700 for spending the wee hours of the morning restlessly wandering Deep Space Nine like a ghost condemned to eternal penance for his sins. Knowing, however, did nothing to ease the underlying physical condition that was causing his insomnia or his general state of low-level and unpleasant excitation. Nor was this his first night unable to bear the confines of his room. Nor would it be the last.

Entask t'porr, the hormonal imbalance caused by lack of regular sexual activity in a mature Cardassian male, was characterized by several different symptoms, not least of which was the restlessness currently making it impossible for Garak to sleep. Hence his long perambulation of the station: down through the habitat ring, onto the Promenade, once completely around it, then back up toward his own quarters. As he walked he turned his mind to anything that had the slightest chance of distracting him — potential fashion trends for the upcoming season, which brand of sizer to purchase next for his shop, the extremely remote possibility that he could find a way to exert some political influence back on Cardassia and get himself recalled home, even the infinitesimally small possibility that he might turn double agent and curry favour with the Federation, which only demonstrated how profoundly out of sorts he actually was. Three years! Three years without knowing the touch of another Cardassian's hand, or indeed the touch of any hand whatsoever other than his own. He'd had small symptomatic tremors before this, including a nasty couple of days after his implant had been deactivated, but until now he'd been fortunate enough to avoid full-blown entask t'porr and its attendant miseries.

Now, however… well, Enabran Tain would be pleased to learn that his son's punishment had taken on a whole new dimension. Once it started the syndrome of hormonal imbalance became more or less permanent until the male in question found a suitable partner, its presence advertised to those who had eyes to see by the blue pigmentation that flared in the rissek structure in the centre of Garak's forehead. Any other Cardassian he encountered would know — and would pity him at the least, or more likely hold him in contempt. Yes, Garak mused as he stepped off the turbolift onto the second level of the habitat ring, Tain would rejoice at the news, and rightly so. For his crimes Garak deserved nothing less than to suffer as much as —

Fifteen meters behind him, an incautious footfall. He did not break his stride or give any outward indication that he'd heard it, but his senses, already keen to the point of pain, went on even higher alert.

Somewhere on the Promenade he'd picked up a "tail", and an inexperienced and highly inept one at that. The man was moving fairly quietly, Garak had to grant him that much, but he was giving himself away in a dozen other little ways that an agent of the Order, even one in the grip of entask t'porr, could hardly fail to notice. The cadence of the footsteps as his pursuer hastened to catch up with him (having gotten off at the next turbolift station down the hall) was familiar enough that it didn't take a genius to take the tail's presence, put it together with Garak's recent lectures to a certain Doctor Julian Bashir about techniques in surveillance, and come up with an end sum that made perfect, if annoying, sense. So the Doctor had decided to put Garak's advice to the test, had he? Well, Garak was in no mood to play the role of a gobbet of meat to train an eager young hawk. He pretended perfect ignorance until he was able to round a corner and turn down a right-angle corridor, and then he slipped sideways into the shadow of a ceiling support without a sound and stood waiting, not even breathing, as invisible as the darkness itself.

Bashir, utterly unsuspecting, strode up the corridor and past the junction — and came to a stop. Garak could easily picture the look of puzzlement on his mobile face as he scanned the empty hallway ahead, wondering where his quarry had gone even as Garak slipped out of the corridor behind him on feet that were truly silent. He moved in behind the naive young man with the sinuous glide of a serpent and reached up to clasp a hand around the slim caramel throat, wrapping his other arm around the slender waist and closing his fingers on the inner curve of Bashir's right elbow. He didn't intend to injure the youth, who had offered him friendship from the day they'd met and whose presence made his exile here tolerable, so he kept his grip relatively light, just hard enough to impress upon the Doctor that he'd been caught.

Bashir stiffened at the contact, then exhaled a disappointed breath. "Garak!" He didn't seem to object to the close physical contact, even relaxing back against the Cardassian in a way that woke up long-slumbering and completely inappropriate pathways in Garak's nervous system. Entask t'porr, like the hydra of Terran myth, reared yet another venomous head in a rush of heat through his entire body. He let no trace of that reaction escape.

"Doctor," he greeted the Human in return, speaking softly into Bashir's left ear. In their current footwear they were almost of a height, with Garak only a scant centimeter shorter. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

A pause, then Bashir said hopefully: "Taking a midnight stroll?"

Garak couldn't suppress a smile. Really, a Starfleet officer should be a much better liar. "I'm afraid I don't believe that for an instant," he said in a tone almost of apology, and tightened his hold just a little to make Bashir uncomfortable enough to pull away. "Would you like to try again?"

To his surprise the physician made no attempt to extricate himself. His slender body was still relaxed, with none of the tension Garak would have expected in a man this close to an Obsidian Order operative. He seemed perfectly at ease, and through the increasing buzz of physical warmth — a blessing on this icebox of a station — Garak wondered at his naive trust. "Odo tells me you've been unable to sleep," he said as casually as if they were talking over their usual table at the Replimat, "and I wanted to see for myself." He brought his left hand up to Garak's right wrist but made no attempt to pry his fingers loose from his throat, and in a quieter voice he asked: "How long has this been going on?"

"My late-night forays, or my justifiable annoyance at —" He stopped mid-sentence, reminding himself that the Doctor, with his usual misplaced Federation benevolence, was only trying to help. Releasing Bashir, he found himself reluctant to do so and even less happy to take a small step back from the welcome heat of that mammalian body. "I'm sure Constable Odo has already told you everything he knows." 

Bashir turned to face him at once, making no effort to put more distance between them. His fine-boned face bore an expression just as earnest as Garak would have expected, his dark eyes wide and questioning. "That doesn't tell me what I really need to know." His glance darted to Garak's forehead before locking their gazes once more. "Does it have something to do with your change in pigmentation? I first noticed it six days ago, which matches with the Constable's —"

A flash of irritation almost made Garak snarl and hiss. He confined his external reaction to a snappish tone of voice: "While I appreciate your concern, Doctor, there's really no need for you to lose sleep worrying about my health. I assure you I'm perfectly —"

"Yes," Bashir snapped back with an annoyed edge of his own, "I've certainly heard that before, and I hope you'll pardon me if I don't believe you."

Garak stared back at him, infusing his gaze with amazement. "And I hope you'll pardon me if I ask you what business you have following me around in the middle of the night? I didn't ask for your help, and I certainly don't appreciate you interfering in things that are none of your concern!"

Bashir's stern look collapsed into something far more compassionate, and thus even more annoying. "Garak — I'm your friend. I want to help you." And then, before Garak could do more than open his mouth to offer a scathing retort, his short supply of patience utterly exhausted, the impertinent child stepped forward and put both arms around him as if fear was the furthest thing from his mind.

The embrace was warm and affectionate, the kiss that placed a seal upon it soft and sensuous and lingering. Behind his penile sheath Garak felt a deep pulse of sweet tension, a stirring, a tumescent pressure, even as he stared into the Human's eyes and wondered if he could possibly be dreaming. He stared while Bashir gazed back at him, a silly little smile on his tender blushing lips, until at last he managed to find words at least partially suitable to the circumstances: "How… unexpected of you."

The smile widened, becoming both shy and fond. "It is a hormonal condition, isn't it? Entask t'porr?"

"And what if it is?" As distracting as the throbbing in his groin was it didn't stop the racing of his Order-trained mind. How had the boy known what the pigment change in his rissek structure signified? How much else had he figured out?

"Do you really think that I don't care enough to want to help you?" Another kiss, this one briefer but no less appealing; then, when Garak remained wary and tense, a little sigh. "Enabran Tain included the information in one of the files he provided. Garak, why didn't you tell me that Cardassian males require —?"

"Because it's frankly none of your business." But it was impossible to remain aloof with so much golden skin pressed against him, separated from his own cooler grey flesh by only a few pesky layers of fabric easily removed. He placed his hands on Bashir's slim waist but did not push the boy away, although he managed to resist the impulse to pull him even closer. He did allow himself a small sigh of his own, barely audible, and wondered at his own weakness. "And… because you've never shown any inclination to pursue anyone who wasn't young, pretty and female."

Bashir shrugged. "Just because I haven't talked about it doesn't mean the inclination wasn't there." He took a little step nearer, pressing body length fully against body length, and now Garak could feel the Human's own half-hardness — so strange and impractical, the concept of external genitalia! — pressing against him. "Especially with you. Especially after the way you touched me the first time we met."

"Ah." Garak was finding the younger man's proximity incredibly pleasant, no doubt due to his higher-than-usual hormonal levels… but also because the quality of the embrace was so different from any he'd ever experienced before. In the past people had approached him with deference to his rank, or with fear for his power, or with passion of varying degrees of falsity in an attempt to manipulate him to their will, but in this contact with Bashir he sensed nothing more sinister than concern that went quite a bit further than propriety dictated. It felt friendly, and comforting, and warm in a way that went beyond sexual heat, although that was certainly smouldering just below the surface. "You remember that, do you?"

"How could I forget?" Bashir's hazel eyes were so bright, shining with equal amusement and hope. "You scared the hell out of me, and wound me up so much that I couldn't stop thinking about it for days afterwards."

"It's nice to know that I haven't lost my touch," Garak quipped. Then Bashir reached up and caressed his left neckridge — lightly, the mere trailing of fingertips along the edges of the large scales — and he yielded to temptation and tasted the Human's mouth again, amazed at how it managed to be equally appealing to the eyes and to the lips. "My dear Doctor —"

"You can call me 'Julian' now, Garak." His smile was fond and inviting and just teasing enough to pique Garak's pursuit instinct. "We've kissed each other. It's allowed."

"My very dear Julian." His hands slipped around to the small of the Human's back and pulled him in, as close as was possible without falling against the nearest wall and entwining themselves like snakes. "Medical files aside, I don't think you understand what you're offering — or asking for."

"I'm offering to make things easier for you." He dropped his gaze and then raised it again, regarding Garak through lowered lashes. The boy had talent, Garak had to give him that. "Unless you find me unattractive, of course. I won't be offended if you do."

"Unattractive?" Garak blinked at him, then permitted himself a hot predatory smile. "Have you entirely failed to notice how I look at you?"

"No," Julian responded honestly, "I could scarcely miss that. But I thought you might just be playing a game with me."

"I see all my lessons in Cardassian culture haven't gone for naught." He could feel his breath coming more deeply now and wondered if Julian could perceive the darkening of the blue pigment on his forehead and the mirroring tinge in the scales along his neck and aural ridges. That should have been all the answer required, but the boy was only Human. Garak would have to educate him in this as well. He regarded the man in his arms with genuine curiosity. "Surely you've read the reports of Cardassian atrocities during the Occupation. Yet you don't seem afraid."

"I know you wouldn't hurt me." Such certainty. Garak truly hoped that it would not one day prove to be misplaced. 

"Never intentionally," he agreed, and it was as close to the truth as anything he'd ever said to this officer from the enemy side. Leaning in, he pressed a biting kiss to the golden neck with just enough of an edge of teeth to cause a frisson of pain, alert for any sign of revulsion; instead Julian tipped his head back a little and drew a sharp breath, as if the sensation pleased him. The pressure in Garak's sheath increased almost to the point of eversion. Oh, it had been too long indeed. "But I don't think this is the place to be having this discussion, do you?"

"No." His gorgeous voice was slightly roughened, which did nothing for Garak's peace of mind. "My quarters?"

Garak released him and stepped away. It was the hardest thing he'd had to do in a very long time, and the yearning he saw in Julian's eyes only quickened his lust. "After you, my dear! 

Chapter Text

The walk to Julian's suite of rooms passed in silence. Really, what was there to say? Thank you so much, Doctor, for stepping in with a novel plan to alleviate my suffering! You're quite welcome, Garak, it's all in a day's work for a Starfleet medic, you know… But on the short journey Garak's mind was far from at peace. For one thing he was keenly aware of the willowy body at his side, the slim upright form whose subtle scent still reached his heightened senses and made the dead air of the station crackle with electric life. Surely he wasn't seriously considering going to bed with this man? Or to the couch, or against the wall, or wherever they ended up consummating this bizarre entanglement? He was no specialist in Human culture but he doubted that sleeping with one's patients was standard operating procedure for Federation doctors, Julian's past conduct with Ensign Melora notwithstanding. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to take the Human up on his very kind offer. Far from it: his dreams over the past several nights had on occasion featured hot dark skin and cries of passion in a disconcertingly familiar voice. He'd always found Julian Bashir physically attractive, a beguiling distraction more beautiful than any he'd ever hoped to find on this remote prison, but there was a world of difference between wanting a man and thinking that there was any chance one's desires would be reciprocated, and Garak was far too clever to make the mistake of confusing the two — especially when, as he'd already noted, the man in question had always expressed attraction toward women exclusively. 

Yet when he risked a sidelong glance at Julian's face as they walked the expression he saw there — a trace of a pleased smile, the general aura of self-satisfaction and anticipation — suggested that his friend was definitely looking forward to what he'd proposed and that it wasn't a duty he'd imposed on himself, or at least not entirely. Garak's own concept of sexuality was remarkably fluid for a Cardassian: what mattered most to him was intelligence and wit and grace, no matter what physical package came wrapped around those qualities. His research suggested that Humans were by and large bisexual although they might choose to confine their attentions to one sex or the other. Was that the case with Julian? Were sexual relations with other men something he reserved for special occasions? 

And was friendship really enough reason for him to consider taking Garak to his bed? Entask t'porr smouldered in Garak's mind like a fire of damp wood, sending up clouds of thick obscuring heat that subtly distorted his normally clear cool patterns of analysis. In his current state the best way to find the answer was to follow this strange situation through to its conclusion, and even when he was at his best curiosity had always been a particular failing of his.

It wouldn't do to ask the questions outright, of course. Therefore he waited until the door to Julian's quarters was safely closed and locked behind them before stating what he considered to be the obvious: "You don't have to do this."

"Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that." The younger man gestured him toward the couch; Garak took the hint and seated himself while his host went to the replicator. "Would you care for a glass of kanar?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." Garak politely refrained from pointing out that replicator kanar was worse than the off-vintage swill served at Quark's, and accepted the glass Julian offered him when he came over with a cup of red leaf tea in his other hand. The Human settled himself right next to Garak and took a sip of his own hot beverage before continuing his train of thought: "I don't have a tricorder handy, but I'd bet ten strips of latinum that your testosterone levels are through the roof and your estrogen levels aren't far behind. And I won't even begin to speculate about the lack of hyaradone in your hissok glands."

"Now that's a lie," Garak reproved him, even as he observed that Julian's body language hadn't changed significantly: they might have been sitting down to discuss Preloc, or the role of improvisation in modern Bajoran theatre. "I'm sure you have at least two tricorders somewhere in these quarters, just in case of an emergency."

After a moment Julian relented: "In the desk and under my bedside table. But do you really want me to break one out and start taking scans?"

Garak hazarded a sip of his kanar and managed not to grimace. "You could have just had Odo drag me into the Infirmary and given me one of your miracle-working shots."

Julian was looking at him with dark eyes suddenly full of appeal, and the distance between them abruptly seemed that much smaller. "It wouldn't have had the same effect as actual sexual activity. I think you know that just as well as I do. Besides," and his free hand came to rest on Garak's knee as his voice fell to a seductive murmur, "I thought we'd established that you find me attractive and wouldn't mind —"

You certainly don't waste any time, do you, my dear Doctor? Aloud he said: "So that's why you tracked me down? To offer the poor lonely Cardassian a little comfort?" He squared his shoulders, wishing he had neck scales to flare as his ancient ancestors did. "I need your pity even less than I need your meddling!"

"Garak…" It was half a plea and half a rebuke. "You must know that I care for you. I wouldn't have risked my life going after Tain if I didn't."

Garak assumed his most imperious expression. "I'm afraid affection is something I find myself requiring even less."

"You don't mean that." He was growing angry, but Garak saw him control it with a visible effort. It was difficult to deny how charming it was, the way every emotion crossed his face the instant it was experienced. "If I didn't feel this way about you I would have made arrangements to set you up with one of Quark's Dabo girls —" Garak made no attempt to mute the bark of incredulous laughter that provoked. Julian was undeterred. "— but… well, I must admit that I'm curious."

"So now I'm an experi—"

"Garak." Ah, there it was, the I've had just about enough of your nonsense voice that revealed the steel core beneath the Doctor's pretty exterior, the vein of strength that Garak found so pleasing as a complement to his outward beauty. "You're the most difficult, impossible, infuriating man I've ever met who wasn't also my father! But…" He sighed again, looking exasperated. "Oh hell, I wish you'd make things easy for me, just once."

Garak permitted himself a small smile as he laid his hand atop Julian's to prevent its potential withdrawal. The Human had no idea that Cardassians used argument as foreplay, or how much Garak had enjoyed their little exchange; Julian had responded so wonderfully even in his ignorance of the cultural cues. Perhaps one day he would drop a hint to that effect. For now, however, a change of tactics was in order to something a non-Cardassian would recognize as sexually enticing. "I had no idea that Human friendship was so… selfless," he teased.

Julian's internal struggle was clearly written on his narrow features. His gaze faltered briefly, but then he looked Garak squarely in the eyes, although his voice was almost a whisper: "You know I adore you, and that I'd do anything for you." A rueful twist of his lips. "How could you not? You seem to know everything else about me."

"You make it so easy, darling boy." He rubbed his thumb across the back of Julian's knuckles, a slow soothing touch appropriate with such a thoughtfully offered endearment, even though the haze of heat in his mind was steadily growing. "Your face conceals nothing. But I repeat: this isn't necessary. My condition is aggravating but certainly not life-threatening."

"I'm aware of that." His determination was really quite adorable. "But… well, after taking my life in my hands by going to the Arawath colony it seems a bit silly to balk at being sexually intimate with you." He set aside his tea on the coffee table and turned to face Garak fully, shifting his grip to hold the Cardassian's hand firmly between his, the tips of his long fingers delicately stroking the sensitive inner face of Garak's wrist. "I want to help you, Garak, I'm more than willing, and you're not going to chase me away with insults. You're free to leave if you like, but I'd much rather you shut up and take me to bed."

The blatant invitation, issued with more than a hint of challenge, struck just the right note as far as Garak was concerned. He let the fire deep in his belly flash into his eyes, the lust and the finer spiritual hunger and the predatory sexual instincts of a naturally dominant Cardassian male. If Julian balked at what he saw —

But the Human didn't. Instead the appeal in his face became outright yearning and he leaned in, offering his mouth to be taken. It was an invitation Garak didn't dally in accepting: he was already kissing Julian as he set down his barely touched glass of kanar on the table, and then those skilled golden hands were working his neckridges and his own hands were enclosing the Human's waist and for a span of unmeasured time the universe contracted to an exploration of the ways their mouths fitted together, and the quickening of shared breath, and smouldering glances through dark half-lowered lashes that made Garak want to tear off that horrible uniform and vent his frustrated desires on what was obviously a very willing body — 

But no! He mustn't. Humans were fragile, their style of lovemaking surpassingly gentle from a Cardassian point of view. Julian had been generous enough to offer his body for Garak's comfort: he wouldn't abuse the privilege. When he finally drew his friend fully into his arms he was careful to handle him as if he were a tunic of fine Larazian silk, liable to tear under the slightest misapplication of pressure.

He was cautious — and yet he could feel the trace of a frown in the line of that sensuous mouth. Was he causing Julian pain in spite of his caution? Surely Humans weren't that delicate? He was on the verge of drawing back to determine what was going on when Julian, who'd been caressing him with equal care, suddenly cupped the back of Garak's neck firmly in both hands and pressed their foreheads together, lightly rubbing noses and whispering against his lips: "I'd like to ask a small favour….?"

So polite. Garak smiled and kissed him with more affection than passion. "Considering the kindness of your offer, you may feel free to ask me anything you like."

"Cardassians… well, your mating rituals tend to be rather… forceful, don't they?"

"They can be," Garak responded warily. He dared to tighten his embrace a little in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "My dear, if you're concerned about me damaging you, you needn't —"

"On the contrary." His eyes were suddenly very large and very dark. "I'd like you to be rough with me. I prefer it, actually, and I don't find many people — women, I mean — who are willing to be aggressive enough."

For an instant Garak's breathing suspended. Could it be… was he serious? Apparently he was. The throb of Garak's pulse quickened behind every scale as he realized that he might not have to control every move he made in the coming hours, that he might even be able to indulge his natural impulses — and some erotic refinements. "Would you like me to tie you up?" He certainly could — he'd been extensively trained in techniques of restraint and the thought of his friend's body thus adorned was undeniably tempting— but Julian shook his head decisively.

"No. I want my hands free to touch you. And to be perfectly clear, I don't want to wind up bleeding. But a bit of physical dominance would be a real treat, if you're willing."

Garak found his breath coming more swiftly and a ruthless hunger rising within him at the thought of overtly conquering this beautiful youth, of bending him to his will and perhaps even making him beg. "How do you feel about bruises?"

"Absolutely marvellous," Julian said with considerable feeling.

"Hm." He let a beat pass as if considering the matter before acting without warning, seizing Julian's upper arms in an iron grip and twisting both their bodies to pin him hard against the back of the couch. He made no effort to be gentle now, indenting the lithe biceps hard enough to leave marks. "Well," he purred, "I think I can accommodate you," and was rewarded with even wider eyes and a new tension in Julian's body, an amalgam of fear and something more electric. This time his kiss was altogether predatory, provoking a muffled whimper and strong slender hands trying to gain purchase on the the fabric of his tunic. In the end all they could do was open like flowers against his ribs and apply encouraging pressure.

"Mmph!" Another whimper with a pleading upward inflection. Julian's mouth was pliant and eager and aggressive all at once. "Mmm…" When Garak finally let him come up for air he gasped ardently: "Oh yes, just like that!"

Garak wasn't convinced that he'd gotten the message across. With a soldier's rough and menacing strength he pulled Julian forward and turned him and forced him down flat on his back, ending up pressed him into the seat of the couch with his full body weight. Julian's hands clutched at his sides, trying to pull him closer, but he maintained a crucial few centimetres of separation and enough control to growl into his prey's ear: "Are you certain?"

"Perfectly." He turned his head and parted his lips, luring Garak into another long devouring kiss. When it was over he added breathlessly: "If I need you to stop, I'll say the word cognac."

Garak, about to lean in and apply a serious bite to that tempting throat, paused. "Cognac?"

"It's a type of Terran brandy, and certainly not the sort of thing I'm likely to call out in the middle of sex without good reason."

He cocked his head, genuinely pondering the proposal. The intellectual exercise overrode his hormone-driven lust to a certain degree even though the way Julian was lying beneath him, legs parted to grant full access, urged him to push ahead. "What a curious notion!"

Julian's eyes narrowed. "It's called a safe word, and Terrans have been using them for centuries."

"No need to get sniffy, my pretty child. I'm not mocking your society's customs. It's actually a rather cunning device now that I think about it." He smiled a slow hot smile. "Very well: I promise that if you start talking about alcoholic beverages I'll stop whatever it is I'm doing — if I can."

His eyes widened again. "If you can?"

"A Cardassian male in the grip of entask t'porr is… well, let's just say that if I'm sheath-deep inside you I may not be in a fit state of mind to call a halt."

Julian twined his left leg around Garak's right and locked it tight, pulling him closer yet. "If we've gone that far I very much doubt I'll want you to."

"I sincerely hope not!" He claimed another kiss, resisting the urge to rip open Julian's uniform jacket. There was one other matter to be dealt with before he got down to serious business. "You've been with another man before?"

"Yes, twice. I'll walk you through how to prepare me."

Garak confined his quizzical expression to a slight frown. "Why, is there a ritual involved?"

"No, just some preliminary stretching. The last time I was —" Oh my, he was blushing. Garak found himself briefly and unexpectedly besotted. "It was a number of years ago."

"Oh? And who was the lucky fellow?"

"Another cadet at the Academy."

"Tell me about it." When Julian hesitated Garak tightened his grip even more and bore down harder, pushing the Human's slighter frame into the couch. He infused his voice and his gaze with gentle but unequivocal command: "Tell me what he did to you, Julian. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I —" His pupils dilated another millimetre, his breathing softly harsh in his throat. "Cardassians produce their own natural lubricant, don't they?" Garak purred an affirmative. "You'll need to take a little of —"

Garak gave him a hard shake. "That's not what I asked," he nearly growled. "I asked what he had to do to you before you'd let him fuck you." Sometimes the key to success in interrogation lay not just in knowing what questions to ask, but how best to ask them. 

[TO BE CONTINUED…]

Chapter Text

The precisely applied obscenity had the desired effect: the heat in Julian's eyes flared dramatically, and Garak spared a heartbeat's span for amazement that he'd found an alien sexual partner so Cardassian in temperament. 

"He…" A sensual little wiggle; Garak took firmer hold of him and the Human settled down. "He replicated some massage oil and spread it on his fingers and slipped them into my arsehole — one finger at first, moving it in and out and around." His voice was soft but he maintained direct eye contact and there was neither hesitation nor shame in his accounting. "It felt so slick and hot and good, but he was being gentle -- too gentle. He was afraid of hurting me. Even when I begged him to give it to me hard and fast he took it slow and easy: one finger, then two, then scissoring them open and closed to stretch me enough to take his cock without pain and bleeding."

"But you enjoy a little pain, don't you?" He kept the youth pinned with his gaze as much as with his hands and his weight, and Julian was giving him his full attention, like a mouse captivated by a snake. 

"A little," he agreed with enticing compliance, then added stubbornly, "but only a little."

Garak kissed the left side of the honey-colored neck where the pulse of a carotid artery beat, murmuring against it: "I think you'll appreciate my expertise, then." He should have been angered by Julian's defiance, especially in his current state, and there was a trace of annoyance certainly, but far more powerful was the surge of hunger that threatened to completely unseat his reason — and worse, a pang of gratitude as disorienting as a sudden ache of fever. That roused rage at his own weakness, but when he bit down on the corded tendon in Julian's throat with the force of his anger the Human only moaned and arched his limber spine, thrusting upward with his pelvis. The hardness there was infuriating in an entirely different way: no self-respecting Cardassian male would evert until the moment before penetration, and although Garak knew intellectually that the genitalia of Homo sapiens couldn't be retracted this knowledge did nothing to offset the instinctive perception that Julian was wanton beyond all endurance, brazenly exposing himself before the clothes had even been stripped off him. He hissed a warning before remembering that his alien partner had no way of interpreting what the inarticulate signal meant.

Well then, another method of communication was warranted. Garak sat up, roughly pulling Julian along with him — and further, hefting the slender body right off the couch and ducking his left shoulder under the Human's belly as he wrapped that arm around his friend's waist. When he rose to his feet Julian emitted a startled yelp and clutched at the Cardassian's hips, but slung over Garak's shoulder as he was he couldn't do much about it. "Garak! What are you — put me — ah!" Another yelp and a flinch as Garak spanked his left buttock smartly, then a happy indrawn gasp when the stung skin was clutched and squeezed.

"Be. Silent." Each growl was punctuated with another smack. 

"And if I don't?" Julian fired right back, but he sounded distinctly breathless, although probably having his head down and his ass in the air had something to do with it.

Garak dug his fingertips into the muscle, planting fresh bruises for the morrow. "The more you resist me the harder this will be."

"Oh thank God," Julian muttered under his breath — and began to squirm, twisting against Garak's hold in a way that clearly wasn't a serious attempt to escape, only a case of doing his level best to make things difficult. Garak retaliated by nipping the hip nearest his mouth sharply enough to provoke another cry, this one half-laughing, as he headed toward the bedroom with a stride that was a little uneven due to the nimbly shifting weight he was carrying. Julian's efforts were rubbing his erection against Garak's shoulder in a way that was impossible to ignore, and when he reached the edge of Julian's bed (much larger than his own, for a mercy) and deposited his struggling burden on his back with enough force to make Julian bounce he found himself hissing again, his eyes narrowed with lust and outrage in equal measure.

Julian was visibly panting, and smiling beneath wide eyes alertly watching Garak's every move. Good: the boy had absorbed enough from those reports of Cardassian conduct during the Occupation to realize that a sexually aroused male could be a dangerous customer indeed. Looming over his prize, gazing down at the delectable form offered for his use, Garak could feel savagery vibrating in the tension of every muscle and in every beat of his heart — but underneath it all, or perhaps more accurately overseeing it, remained the awareness that this man had also offered him friendship without ulterior motive and was here now because of that same affectionate feeling. It was enough to cause him to refrain from throwing himself on the good Doctor and tearing off that hideous uniform while biting every centimetre of skin he could reach, although he couldn't keep an undercurrent of menace out of his voice: "You liked that, did you?"

The smile widened, the dark eyes sparkling. "Oh, yes!" He propped himself up on his elbows, opening his thighs provocatively to display the bulge of his arousal, and gave Garak what could only be described as a come-hither look — an invitation so inflaming that Garak, on the point of moving forward with some measure of restraint, almost missed the shift in that lovely face from yearning to teasing, an expression not unlike the delight Julian took in scoring a point in one of their lunchtime debates. The Human rolled to his left and tried to scramble off the end of the bed with admirable and unexpected swiftness, a maneuver that would have succeeded if Garak hadn't possessed Obsidian Order-trained reflexes to match. He lunged forward, caught those slim hips in an iron grip, and dragged his quarry back, flipping him over onto his stomach and nearly slamming him down into the mattress. It was everything he could do not to sink his teeth into the nape of that delicate neck, so temptingly unarmored; instead he slid his hands up Julian's sides and raked his fingers down hard enough to leave welts, prompting another delicious gasp and wriggle, before pinning his pelvis to the bed again with bruising force. 

He leaned in close, almost dizzied by the perfume of arousal rising from his breathlessly laughing and subtly struggling lover, and rumbled into the upturned right ear: "You… are a very naughty boy, Julian." The small part of his mind still capable of cool and rational thought wondered if Human hearing could detect the change in his vocal harmonics as the rissek organ nestled between his lungs opened and began to exhale its own unique pheromonal signature, accompanied by a need to evert his thernek so acute that it bordered on pain. It took every gram of his self-control to maintain his dignity.

Julian didn't help matters when he glanced back with smouldering eyes and whispered in an irresistible sexual purr: "Let me loose and I'll show you just how naughty I can be." His tongue darted out and traced that sweet, full lower lip. "I could suck your cock. Wouldn't that feel marvellous? Or maybe I could —"

"After your little escape attempt just now?" For less than a second he considered pausing to explain the sexual politics of Cardassian dominance, including the fact that his penis wouldn't be unsheathed until mere seconds before finding a new haven in Julian's tight retirkat; then the red heat in his mind consumed the thought and banished it. He wrapped his left arm around Julian's shoulders and rolled onto his left side, pulling the Human along with him and keeping a tight enough hold on the rebellious Human to quell any further attempts to flee. There'd be time enough for chase-games later. "What kind of fool do you take me for? No," and he stroked Julian's right hip as if petting a cat, a slow soothing caress to contrast with the businesslike grip of his arm, "you're staying right here, where I want you." 

Julian's hands came up and closed around his forearm and bicep but did not try to pull them away; the rest of his reaction consisted of a little hiss of his own and a below-the-waist undulation that pressed the rise of his trim buttocks firmly against Garak's groin. The friction was exquisite, the mechanism of release so close, but Garak was careful to give no outward sign. He was in such proximity that he was actually breathing it in, that impossible mammalian heat and a delicious scent compounded of soap and shampoo and the Human's own skin, and the intimacy abruptly hit him with a force quite separate from that of his lust. How long had it been since he'd been so near to someone who actually craved his touch? The tally in hours, days, months and years was disheartening, even though he was generous in his estimation of the motivations of his previous partners: the most pessimistic response was, quite simply,never.

Another slow grind of Julian's pelvis brought him fully back to the present moment and inspired him to one of his rare unpremeditated remarks.

"My sweet little slut," he whispered against the soft skin under Julian's right ear, then tightened the circle of his arm when the Human tensed and pitched his voice to a honeyed murmur. "No, my dearest, don't take offence — none was intended, I assure you. The precise Cardassian word is dur'chak, signifying a man who willingly devotes himself to pleasuring other men of higher status." His right hand slipped down the front of Julian's pelvis to rub the long erection clear to be felt through the fabric of his uniform. "Only a dur'chak would so shamelessly display his own arousal, and believe me, I appreciate it."

"Only a dur'chak?" Julian's shoulders had relaxed and now he reached back to slide his right hand between their bodies, stroking Garak's own groin firmly, and the shock of sweet white-hot sensation was so overpowering that Garak was appalled to feel a couple of centimetres of himself evert against his will, sliding against the heel of the Doctor's hand. Julian's smile infused his voice. "I'd say it takes one to know one, wouldn't you?"

Garak's breath caught in his throat for the third time that evening. By the Seven Hebitian Hells, the boy was both bold and quick! A worthy opponent indeed, and a fitting match for a member of the Order if circumstances had permitted such an arrangement. The longing was mercifully as brief as it was piercing, rapidly subsumed in the more concrete sensation of the hot-blooded thernek throbbing in his grasp, its pulse so quick and eager. He took harder hold of it through the intervening fabric and used his nails again, dragging them up and down and feeling Julian shudder in response. "You like a firmer hand down here as well, I see."

"Ohhh." A shivering sigh as Julian closed his eyes and pushed forward into his punishing touch, simultaneously rubbing the shameful evidence of Garak's own arousal with more pressure and coaxing another lubricant-leaking centimetre out of him. Ah well — self-control could be as overrated as any other virtue. He wasted no more time in opening the front of Julian's uniform pants with a tailor's expert speed and skinning both trousers and underwear down over his buttocks and hips, finally freeing an unexpectedly beautiful erection that was a shade darker than the rest of his skin, the head rosy and plump and undeniably appealing. It felt like blood-warm silk under his lightly exploring hand, thinly sheathed and smoothly fragile and full of the swift urgency of the Human's beating heart.

Julian's head fell back and his next words came in a whispered rush: "Harder — and rougher! Garak, please…?"

[TO BE CONTINUED]

Chapter Text

That soft heated voice cut through Garak's intention to toy with this golden morsel with no more effort than a disruptor beam evaporating water already near to boiling. He closed his fist tightly around Julian's erection and began to rigorously pump it. "Of course, Doctor," he smiled, and was rewarded with a sharp cry and an impulsive twist against his confining arm, which he shifted upward and tightened until the base of the Human's throat was snugly framed in the angle of his elbow. Julian froze with his back arched, audibly panting. "When have I ever been able to refuse you anything you truly desired?"

"You refuse me things all the — oh! —" as Garak ran sharp fingernails over the head of his thernek and down the shaft. "All the time…." A swift indrawn breath followed by a gusty sigh as the ruthless caress reached the dense curls surrounding the base and shifted to his right buttock, raking hard enough to leave visible scratches. Julian renewed his massage of Garak's genital slit, rubbing the partially exposed erectile tissue with the heel of his hand. "Like this. That's not even a quarter of the way out, is it?"

There was only one fitting reply to such immodesty and audacity: Garak bit him again, a severe admonishing pinch on the shell-like curve of his ear, then whispered into it: "Your impertinence is as dismaying as your ignorance. Has no one ever taken you in hand and taught you how to behave with a lover?"

"If I don't know how to behave," Julian retorted, still applying that maddening pressure, "you've got no one to blame but yourself — or rather, that damned Cardassian secrecy about everything that matters."

Garak permitted himself a low growling laugh and returned his grip to the Human's thernek, which was already reddened from the intensity of his previous efforts. "Oh, rest assured I'll teach you, if you're capable of enduring the lessons."

Julian groaned in a way that suggested nothing but complete satisfaction with Garak's teaching methods as he resumed the brutal course of stimulation. He really should have told the boy to put his hand somewhere less indecent but there was something so charming about his intention to share the pleasure he was being given that it persuaded Garak to permit the social transgression. It wasn't long before Julian was panting in earnest and writhing deliciously each time Garak shifted emphasis to drag burning welts up and down the supremely sensitive and utterly unprotected skin exposed for his delectation. He seemed to enjoy the tightness of Garak's arm around his throat as well, and when Garak clenched his fist and applied a little more pressure he made absolutely no objection. Shortly thereafter, however, his inarticulate litany of manifest approval became choppy desperate words: "Garak — I, I'm going to —!" 

The way his pelvis was moving made his meaning exquisitely clear. At once Garak ceased stroking him and took firm hold of his right hip, immobilizing him while he murmured comforting distracting nonsense and waited for the Human to fall back from the sharp ascent toward orgasm. Julian clutched at his arm and moaned with clear frustration, but he complied with Garak's unspoken command and thereby won an even greater measure of affection than Garak had previously accorded him. 

A long span of seconds passed, marked by the red-hot pulse of Garak's own urgency insisting, demanding that he tear open his pants and take this darling pliant creature without further ado. But he was not an animal: he was an eli'as sil'tar'il even in exile and his existence was defined by a degree of self-control alien even to other Cardassians. He breathed Julian's warm scent and elected to take things to the next level — at his own pace, which included providing the Doctor with the preparation he'd so politely requested. 

"There, there — precious boy…" He released the hip and ventured to stroke the outer curve of Julian's thigh where it was exposed above the top of his pulled-down trousers, pleased when the caress prompted only a sigh and a shiver. "Not yet. Be still. Tell me, are all Humans so impetuous?"

"Impetuous?" He tried to look back at Garak and failed. "I'd like to see you do any better!"

Garak couldn't resist the temptation to push himself against Julian's right hand, which had never left its post. "I assure you that when I'm not in the grip ofentask t'porr I'm far less… susceptible to the charms of pretty young men. Surely the Starfleet medical database includes information concerning the duration of the Cardassian mating act?"

"It doesn't, as I'm sure you well know." But there was a ripple of laughter in his voice now and he was relaxing, which was exactly what Garak wanted. He slipped his hand down, as smooth and as innocent as cream, to slide between Julian's slightly parted thighs and cup his ridiculously vulnerable testicles from behind. The jerk and whimper that resulted was most gratifying. 

"Relax," he whispered, rubbing and squeezing with due care for their fragility even as the part of his mind still capable of tactical analysis reflected that Human males would prove remarkably easy to torture. "There… isn't that nice?"

"Yes… " A slightly harder squeeze provoked a whimper. "Oh, be careful with those, they're —"

"Shhh." After a final caress, surpassingly gentle, he slid back to run his forefinger and middle finger up and down the cleft between those firm buttocks, pleased to feel them tighten reflexively. Pressing inward past the resistance he found what he was looking for, the hot indentation that flexed under the tips of his fingers. "And what have we here?" With one short thrust he pushed his index finger in up to the first knuckle and rejoiced in Julian's soft eager cry and whole-body shudder. There was considerable friction as he slid shallowly in and out, the ring of muscle clenching in a way that promised exquisite future delight. His thernek half-emerged of its own accord, soaking his undergarments with even more slick moisture, but he was able to keep his tone of voice devoid of perturbation: "Shall I do this dry, or…?"

Julian jerked his chin back toward the head of the bed as best he could. "Lubricant — under the pillow."

Smiling like a Terran wolf, Garak removed his finger and rolled in the indicated direction, never relinquishing his hold on Julian's neck — he still didn't trust his partner not to bolt — to feel around until he found the small pop-cap tube. A dur'chak indeed, he thought with another thrill of feral lust: ready for anything, always prepared. Rolling back into position, he opened the tube one-handed and squeezed a dollop of thick liquid onto Julian's lower cleft, relishing the way the sensation made his sweet mate gasp yet again, before dropping the container onto the bed behind him and turning his attention to rubbing the cool lubricant into that smooth slit, smearing it over the tightly closed retirkat — then, without warning, pushing his middle finger all the way inside in one powerful stroke. Julian's whole body tensed, his mouth opening although no sound emerged, and his right hand finally left Garak's groin, fumbling back to clutch at the Cardassian's hip before he yielded completely, turning his lower body to give Garak a better working angle and clenching his right fist in the bedclothes in front of him. The fingers of his left hand were locked onto Garak's left arm with an intensity that might have left bruises on a member of a species with thinner skin, but Garak was unconcerned: he was concentrating on giving Julian exactly what he'd asked for, one slicked finger penetrating him almost brutally, then two, stroking and scissoring, and Preloc's ghost! but Julian had a lovely voice when he was properly inspired, although his choice of language would probably be considered less than polite in Human circles. 

When the narrow passage had been stretched to the point where Garak's ridged thernek could, he judged, slide inside without tearing the velvety walls, he took the unprecedented step of introducing a third finger— and was surprised by the decisiveness of Julian's protest: "No. Cock. Now!"

He tilted his head to one side, letting Julian feel it against the back of his neck. "'Cock?' I'm afraid I don't —"

"Your penis," Julian hissed in a way that was positively Cardassian in both tone and mood. He squirmed on Garak's impaling fingers with manifest impatience. 

"My dear child," Garak rebuked him, "gentlemen do not fuck with their clothes on." He pushed a little deeper, a form of punishment that was also doubtless a reward, and withdrew his fingers completely. "Now, if I let go of you can I trust you to undress yourself?"

A couple of seconds of heavy breathing. "Of course you can."

He made no effort to keep the skepticism out of his voice. "You've already tried to escape once —"

"Believe me," Julian groaned, rocking his hips and rubbing his erection against the mattress, "I'm not going anywhere. You've convinced me. Can we get on with it?"

Garak briefly considered administering another spanking just to teach his friend some manners — but he was no less eager when you got right down to it, so he relinquished his grip on Julian's neck, with a significant pause to show that he was watching for any sign of rebellion before he sat up and rose to his feet at the bedside. Julian immediately flipped over onto his back and stripped off his uniform with remarkable speed: first the pants, underwear and boots and all, then the jacket, then the lavender undershirt, all dropped to the floor without any care for where they landed. Garak, even with the fire of entask t'porr seething in his veins, was neater and more methodical. By the time Julian was naked he had only removed his tunic and thermal undershirt, laying both over the night table, and was opening the front of his pants. 

For a couple of heartbeats the Human watched with wide and increasingly impatient hazel eyes; then, when Garak had barely started to push down his trousers and underwear, he'd evidently had enough of waiting and took decisive action. Scooting forward on the mattress, he slid right over the edge of the bed onto his knees and, so quickly that Garak in his distracted state barely had time to register it, did something that blew whatever proprieties he hadn't managed to already violate straight out of the water by taking hold of Garak's hips and then taking the exposed eight or so centimetres of the Cardassian's erection into a very hot and enthusiastic mouth.

Well — unable to draw a full breath four times in one evening! That had to be some sort of record. Staring down at the man performing fellatio on him, Garak felt a wave of white heat flow over him from the place where their bodies were joined and obliterate all calculation, all restraint, all concern with relative status and certainly all resistance. As the rest of his dripping thernek everted and Julian, softly moaning, tried to take it all and failed, Garak had only one goal left: he ran the fingers of his left hand into Julian's hair and clenched them tight, jerking the Human's head back to look down into those amazing eyes darkened even more with arousal and surrender, and past them to the swollen reddened erection that so shamelessly declared his taste for being abused. With a hiss of pure savagery he closed his other hand on that smooth caramel shoulder and practically threw his partner back onto the mattress — and then, decorum be damned, he lunged forward between the invitingly parted thighs and, bracing himself on one arm so that he could watch his prey's every reaction, used his right hand to guide himself into the clasping orifice that Julian was bending his knees and tilting his hips to present for fucking. 

In the end it was really as simple as that: a moment's fumbling and then they were joined as if they'd engaged in this dance a hundred times before, Garak's trousers still around his thighs, the ridges that swirled around his shaft making Julian cry out with fresh urgency, and the Human's elegant hands clutching at his back and his buttocks, clawing in a way that only drove the blood-flame to new heights. He heard himself growling, rough animalistic exhalations that skirted the edge of the coughing roar that male Cardassians exchanged in moments such as this, but Julian knew nothing of that signal and Garak's disappointment about it was surprisingly dim and distant. The sleek lovely body beneath him was enough, more than enough, inestimably perfect, and when Julian caught hold of his right hand (now braced on the mattress) and guided it to his unadorned throat he retained just enough presence of mind to apply pressure in a way that wouldn't crush the fragile larynx, leaving Julian enough breath to writhe and gasp: "Oh God yes — fuck me — fuck me harder —"

There was a word Garak was supposed to remember. He tried and failed. A word that Julian might be speaking, but he wasn't, in fact he was begging for more and Garak was more than happy to give it to him. Through the pounding rhythm of their coupling and the music of Julian's choked cries as he twisted an equally ancient urge was rising, unexpected but inexorable. He heard the ragged ferocity in his voice and made no effort to modulate it. "I'm going to mark you now, Julian. To make you mine."

"Yes…" The dark eyes gazing up at him were almost dazed, the parted lips so very red, the wanton yearning on that adored face so clear even across the species divide that Garak hissed and shifted his grip on the Human's throat, barely resisting the urge to bear down harder. That fragile neck lacked the internal structures necessary to endure such rough treatment: as it was Julian would be feeling the ache for days. 

He had just enough presence of mind left to issue a warning, an act of friendship in the midst of lust: "There will be blood."

"Yes!" His fingertips dug into Garak's shoulders, pulling urgently. Without further hesitation Garak leaned down, bared his teeth and bit into the golden right shoulder hard enough to break the skin. Julian made an absolutely delicious sound of furious assent as he lapped and sucked up the salt drops that welled from the shallow wound; then the Human's willowy body stiffened, every muscle quivering, and Garak felt warm spurts of semen splattering his belly. The clenching of hot silky flesh around him was enough. With a grimace and a choked howl he achieved climax, a true release that would finally bring relief from the fire burning in his body and his mind. 

The sweet peak of all-consuming sensation seemed to last for an eternity as he released pulse after pulse of his own seed. Then like a fever entask t'porr broke and subsided, leaving him cool and clear-headed — and still buried sheath-deep in the body of the man who had become his unlikely friend in exile. He rested his forehead against Julian's neck and concentrated on drawing slow even breaths: he suspected that the Human wouldn't have let him pull away easily in any case, not the way those strong slender arms were now wrapped around his back and locked tight. The return to full sanity was in itself practically orgasmic.

At last his breathing evened out enough for him to risk asking: "Did I hurt you?"

Julian purred — that was the only way to describe it — and stretched, finally unwinding his legs from around Garak's waist and letting them fall open to either side. "Mmm, yes, in all the right ways…" 

Eyes closed, Garak could clearly analyze each scent enveloping them: Cardassian and Human sweat, shared intimate musk, Julian's ejaculate, the distinctive pleasant odor of the youth's hair — and a sharper metallic smell that roused him back to complete alertness. It was one he knew well from far less pleasant circumstances. He felt compelled to state the obvious: "You're bleeding!"

"Thanks to you." Julian sounded lazy and not in the least concerned, but when Garak reared back to examine the wound warily he sighed with his eyes still shut, wearing a somewhat silly smile of post-orgasmic bliss. "There's a medkit under the night table if you'd like to —"

"I think I will, thank you." His thernek experienced a shock of cold as he withdrew it from Julian's retirkat and immediately began to retract again, disappearing entirely by the time he'd stripped off his pants and boots, found and opened the kit and returned to lie beside his panting friend with a dermal regenerator in hand. As he turned his attention to sterilizing and closing the punctures his teeth had left Julian cracked open his eyes and smiled even more widely. 

"Don't completely erase them," he said softly, reaching up to run light fingers along the ridge running down Garak's right shoulder. "I want a memento of the occasion."

"Hm." As he worked he could see the dusky skin of Julian's throat changing color where his fingers had been clenched around it, and a cursory glance revealed similar patterns on the rest of his torso, which looked very fetching with its adornment of white ejaculate droplets. His thernek had shrivelled to considerably less than half its previous length and Garak spared a brief thought for how very inconvenient external genitalia must be. "My dear, you're already going to be a tapestry of bruises."

Julian sighed and stretched again, careful not to alter the position of his shoulder under the medical device. "Yes, and it was absolutely lovely." The quality of his touch changed, running an edge of nails along the soft skin bordering the scales of the ridge and sending a pleasant cool tingle down Garak's spine. "I only hope that you enjoyed yourself just as much as I did."

"You were perfectly delightful," Garak replied, for once with complete honesty. He finished closing the edge of the bite-mark and turned off the regenerator, leaning in to kiss the Doctor's still very tempting mouth and trying not to enjoy the way his strong elegant hand curved around the back of his head too much. When Julian at last let him come up for air he sat up long enough to set the regenerator aside on the night table before returning to the embrace of his winsome companion, who was now examining Garak's forehead closely.

"Your rissek structure is returning to its normal color," he observed with a hint of his usual medical detachment.

"I should certainly hope so, after that hormonal surge!" He cupped the left side of the Human's jaw in one hand and nuzzled into the line of his throat on the opposite side, letting Julian feel the smile against his honey-dark skin. "May I compliment you on your bedside manner, Doctor? It's really quite inspiring."

"You may." Garak didn't have to see the answering smile to know it was there. "And I must say you've been an exemplary patient. You gave me absolutely no trouble at all this time — well, none I didn't ask for, anyway."

"You see?" Garak said with an ever-so-slightly exaggerated simulation of innocence. "I can be good!" 

Julian laughed aloud and held him closer. "When it suits your purposes," he teased, "you can be very good indeed… oh, you meant in a moral sense?"

"Morality, like beauty and truth, is in the eye of the beholder." He punctuated the assertion with a little kiss and a careful bite, pleased to find himself on familiar conversational ground. Evidently Julian wasn't given to emotional clinging after sexual intercourse, which Garak understood to be a common failing among Humans. "Surely I've been able to teach you that much, at least?"

"At least." He stroked Garak's right cheek, then gently pushed him away enough to look him in the eyes. For the space of a breath the tenderness of the Human's expression led Garak to fear that he wasn't going to escape a heartfelt declaration after all, but his companion did not disappoint him.

"Now," Julian said with professional briskness, "if I understand the files Tain provided correctly you'll be more susceptible to a relapse since you let yourself get this far into entask t'porr in the first place. We'll have to keep on top of it to ensure it doesn't recur."

Garak winced fractionally. "That was a moderately awful pun, Doctor."

"Hush. I'm prescribing." But he eased the rebuke with a kiss. "Before your exile, how often did you engage in maintenance sexual activity?"

Garak performed a quick mental calculation, transposing Cardassian time units over Terran. "Every two and a half weeks was considered a prudent interval."

"Let's say once a week, then." In response to Garak's amused expression, he added: "Better safe than sorry."

"And if you should find a young lady you want to be exclusive with?" The good Doctor went through women the same way he went through bowls of I'danian spice pudding — or tried to, at any rate — but Garak felt it was prudent to bring up the possibility.

Julian shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." His hazel eyes grew bright with mischief. "You always have Quark's Dabo girls to fall back on."

"I don't even want to fall forward onto one, thank you!" Garak permitted himself a dramatic shudder. "Besides, unlike many of my Cardassian compatriots I'm rather picky: I prefer my partners to be willing." He knew that his definition of "willing" probably didn't match that of his tender and idealistic Human friend, but decided to keep that bit of intelligence to himself.

"Well, I'm certainly willing, and conveniently unattached."

Ah, there it was again: a twinge of unfamiliar feeling in Garak's chest, the spectre of gratitude. "This is all very kind of you, my dear."

"I'm your friend, Garak." He was so adorably earnest. "I know you probably haven't had many of those in your life, but friends take care of each other. Besides, this is a medical matter and I am your doctor, aren't I?"

"Still." He slowly petted the young man's silken hip and allowed himself a more genuine smile and a tender inflection: "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The corner of his expressive mouth was quirking toward a sweet foolish smile of his own; Garak coaxed it into full bloom with a kiss and a gentle caress on the impossibly delicate Human throat, noting that Julian was almost criminally beautiful when he was truly happy. He had always known as much, of course, but he'd never thought to see that radiant expression crowning so much exposed skin. Looking down along the relaxed lineaments of Julian's body at marks of passion already written across it like hieroglyphs on the wall of a desert citadel, he sighed.

"I do hope those won't hurt too much come morning."

The smile became charmingly elfin. "Well, you know what they say: A friend in need is a friend indeed."

"Do they? I hadn't noticed." He traced the lines his fingers had imprinted onto Julian's throat, idly reflecting that they rather suited him. "And whose need are 'they' talking about, anyway? The man who seeks out others in his time of difficulty? Or the man who provides succour to those he cares for?"

"Does it matter?" And as Julian kissed him again Garak decided that in rare truth it did not. After all, they were friends together and their desire was evidently mutual: with so many years of banishment potentially remaining ahead of him he was not so foolish as to refuse any consolation that came his way, especially when it came wrapped in such an attractive and satisfying package. With such a talented protégé Garak was sure that many future nights would pass equally pleasantly — and who knew? Perhaps, with Julian's unconventional instruction, he might even learn a new trick or two of his own.

THE END