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I, Garak	By : CyreliaJ Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 2005 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its characters. i'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
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Note: So a little shorter, but I wanted to end it at a certain point so there you have it. Definitely added some tags. I don't anticipate any other major tags added but I make no promises. Sometimes I think I get a bit carried away with my sentences and have to reign it in but I'm not gonna lie it's been fun. Warning for dirty messy pre fucking stuff and a brief note that 10 cm is about 4 inches. Thank you all for coming along for the ride *coughs*, you all rock!
   The phrase “hoisted by his own petard” immediately comes to Garak’s mind. That’s followed by a silent groan as he recalls the context in which he’d last spoken those words to Julian some years back in an encounter annoyingly similar to this one. Garak has never put any stock in the fanciful notion of human karma, but he might start to believe right about now. He’d once heard some human tell around a table at Quark’s some mythos of a medical malady known as “blue balls” wherein a male genitalia upon being deprived of gratification, and unable to tame itself would ultimately turn blue and then promptly fall off. Julian had laughed at that and proceeded to properly educate him on the particulars of the human male anatomy and the properties thereof. Garak had never imagined such a salacious seeming subject could ever be so Guls damn boring. But then again Julian always did have a knack for surprising him. He’s surprised him rather neatly now in fact, as Garak can tell from that intelligent narrowing of his eyes that he’s figured out exactly what it was Garak had in mind when suggesting the move to this location. He isn’t sure why now Julian sees to possess a conscious that’s usually lacking during this time in his cycle, but Garak isn’t particularly hopeful about exploring that subject right now.
   In fact, he’s beginning to wonder if that legendary human affliction that is the blueing of the scrotum might not prove true for a race such as his own, unaccustomed to remaining in an everted state for such a prolonged period of time seemingly for no purpose. Oh there’s a purpose alright, Elim, only said purpose is preoccupied with a purpose that’s stupidly of your own devising. Didn’t Tain always say that you were too enamored of your own cleverness at times? Karma indeed. Garak swears he sees a smirk cross Julian’s lips. Oh come on, Elim, even if he has somehow regained his wits he’s quite possibly the least vindictive person that you know. Still, Garak sees something when Julian looks at that truth be told- as if such an egregious thing would ever- is deeply sexy. That could also be hormones, pheromones, the room like some humid den of reptilian iniquity if he does say so himself and that’s likely only to grow more potent as this goes on. Garak absently tastes the air, half wishing he hadn’t. There’s a certain distasteful something about tasting one’s lover’s mingled essence with one’s worst enemy’s; particularly when that taste does nothing but further arouse.
   He considers the misfortune of his situation and doesn’t even allow himself to entertain the possibility of taking himself in hand like some uncouth hominid savage… You know, Elim, it’s those sort of thoughts that make Julian call you an elitist picky snake when the two of you argue. Point. But the fact of the matter is that he has absolutely no intention of going that route. Even if it kills him. …which it very well might. It’s all Dukat’s fault. He doesn’t lay the blame on Julian, no, his human is reacting in a very human way, now Dukat on the other hand… If Dukat weren’t there about to… Well that’s not really important now, is it? Garak continues watching them allowing just that slip of fingers curling around that chair arm tightly. For all of Dukat’s taunting he hardly seems to be half as focused on Garak earlier as he was before and that painful squeeze of the metal arm at least diffuses a moment’s worth of tension. Granted, a moment’s worth of tension seems like nothing when compared to that eternity of hardness passed in a black hole while others view the passage of time from outside space as little more than a blink. He once asked a Vulcan what his vision of that abstract “hell” might be. That was approximately his description and Garak is finding it to be quite apt right about now.
   In a moment of cheek, Julian once referred to his inverted state of arousal as Schrödinger’s Erection and teased that since one couldn’t see the Cardassian male’s phalange until a certain point, all arousal until then was merely speculative. Well it certainly isn’t speculative now. He’s sure that blood rush has driven him completely mad or else he wouldn’t be having such ludicrous recollections while Dukat is… Oh come now really?! …apparently lifting Julian in the air with his legs thrown over Dukat’s shoulders. Garak blinks at that, once, twice not quite certain if that is in fact what he’s really seeing and then finds himself with rather visceral audio confirmation, Julian’s voice climbing higher, with that deeper penetration. Garak can feel the swell of the ridges of his neck, that cry, that heat calling to him, telling him that it ought to be him standing there, pounding, claiming his Julian. Now that’s an extremely primitive thought. Garak tries to steady that instinct, knowing that it’s non productive at the least, humiliating at the most. Though Dukat seems to have half forgotten he’s even there at this point. Garak himself is starting to dimly find reason slip the louder Julian’s cries go, watching his head go back further, some happy sexdoll for Dukat.
   You know that should be you- perhaps in a position more amenable to his back, reason chimes in unwanted-You can hear him scream, can hear him moan, you know you can do it louder, harder, deeper. Garak sucks in a breath shifting on that damn uncomfortable chair. Dukat has to be finished soon; Julian’s hands clutch at the armor of his shoulders. Julian gasp swallows that sound he makes when it’s hitting him good, hitting him hard and Garak thinks he very well may be having a stroke, his body stiff, visions blurry, almost seeing double Julian double penetrated and as infuriated as he is, he is Guls damn just a fiercely fervently aroused. He can’t quite see at this angle that drive in, out, but he can see the rock of Julian’s body, the bounce fury bite of nails as Julian’s fingers curl and he can see him close, twisting, half breathless and he knows that if it was him it’d be even better. He doesn’t need some self serving show of acrobatics, he just needs Julian here, now, in his lap, mouth to his prick until he shoves him backwards and takes him on the floor those long flexible legs bent back until his knees are parallel to his face. That’s one of Garak’s favorites. He loves Julian’s flexibility- that trait on display and he watches, unable, it seems, to look away, unsure what his face must look like right now as he forces his mouth to close back again.
   Garak almost closes his eyes. Almost. There would be a beautiful escape to be found in nothing but the litany of noises- ignoring Dukat’s insufferable grunting- imagining nothing but Julian and him, the word Julian had said once, Omega, flitting through his head willing, wanting, completely pliant to his whims. He nearly asks the computer for the time realizing how ridiculous that would look and instead settles for another shift, another bit back hiss as he can feel his hard wet eversion smearing fluid bunching soaking the inside of his pants and there is no way that he’s going to ever go back out there in his current state. He catches some smug stupid smirk thrown his way almost as an afterthought, some smarmy nonsense that he can see is a clear cover for the fact that while Dukat may be in somewhat better physical condition, he’s no position to keep this up all day. He can see Julian nearly dropped back onto the desk as Dukat straightens up, a brief hand to his lower back that Garak cannot help but smirk at. He hope it pains him for the rest of his miserable life. He can see Julian panting, eyes half open, half clouded and if would seems for the moment that brief flicker of reason has deserted once more. But Julian surprises him again when Dukat turns back to Garak.
   “Shall I show you once and for all, Garak,” Dukat begins arrogantly, “just how it should be done?” Garak nearly misses the question seeing Julian behind him half sat up on his elbows, looking not at Dukat but at Garak longing, swallowing, reaching a hand out and Garak swears he sees Julian mouth his name wanting, pleading and by the State he almost does it. He nearly gives in to that wild urge to spear Dukat clear through the window rocketing the lot of them out into space and into certain miserable cold vacuum death. Of course that’s perhaps an exaggeration, but that’s the irrational strength he feels, that blood, that call, that scent coursing through him. He taste it again, tasting Julian far more strongly and he can feel that out of focus of his eyes before he steadies himself, forcing himself to sit back casually. Or at least as casually as one can manage while there is a clear dampening eversion halfway up his stomach.
“You hardly need my permission Dukat,” he begins mortified at just how thick his voice sounds. He doesn’t dare clear his throat but simply continues as if it had been intentional. “Unless as always, your drive exceeds your limited capabilities.” He’s certainly not going to give Dukat the satisfaction in knowing that jealousy his last display had spiked.
   Dukat laughs, lazily circling Commander Sisko’s desk, giving- if nothing else- the security camera a good view of his intent, his shame, and that small naked prick. That last thought might have been a touch uncharitable, but Dukat deserves none, and if there’s been one boon, one, and only one to his miserable exile, it’s the fact that he’s found himself entangled with a race who places an unnaturally high value on the size of one’s genitals. Of course that could simply be Julian stroking your ego thinking you to be self conscious about it. He doesn’t think so though- Julian’s propensity for deception is pitifully poor.
“Go on and talk, Garak. Because that’s all you can do right now. Talk.” Garak sighs, seeing that Dukat is making a show of this for his benefit as he kicks Commander Sisko’s chair out of the way before moving the baseball stand to the other side of the desk. Ah, the narrow side there. Really, Dukat, we’re all going to die here while you make sure everyone is in the right place to see this grand display of yours.
“You seem to be making a lot of preparations, Dukat,” Garak tries not to hiss as he shifts again, Julian’s naked body beautiful as he obeys Dukat with that ridiculous repositioning, “Shall I call Major Kira in here to make sure your performance isn’t going to waste?”
“Oh that won’t be necessary, Garak,” Dukat answers yanking Julian to him by the legs and Garak wonders if he hadn’t been practicing that in his head while he was fucking him. “I think she’ll be hearing what she could be having soon enough.”
   Yes, I’m sure. Garak could almost laugh. Yes, talk yourself further into the shit, as Julian would say. Guls but I can use this. Yes he can. And then he can use Julian. He watches, stares hard, certain his gripping the arms of the chair hard enough to trigger his hands to start molting, a slight slough of dead scales as he twists them, turns, and silently wills this to be over because the sight of Dukat wasting time with that pathetic tool where he could be-
“Gaa....ha...” Garak hears his aborted name on Julian’s lips, seeing his back arch, shoulders, neck twisting to see him, arm reaching out to him with that rough thrust, pleasure painting that stupid slutty human face so nastily that Garak swears he’s going to lift this chair and hit Dukat clear across the room with it. That fool doesn’t even seem to realize Julian’s not even screaming his name. It would be laughable if his cock didn’t stir, push, body wondering why he’s still sitting in this damn chair while Julian is half sobbing, head tossing, and Garak reads that look as that frustration he wears when Garak decides to tease him with just the tip until he’s in tears.
   “Ha... ha...mmm... mmmr..... plssss....” Julian, arms bent back grabs at the underside of the table, hips lifted, pushing, and Garak almost wants to crow triumphantly that yes, that is all there is to be had and this is not a tease, this is not a preliminary but this is it and no matter how Julian moves his hips, begs, pleads, there’s nothing more to be had than Dukat’s inevitable climax. But those cries are torture, they pierce him, they make him sit forward on that chair and bite his tongue to keep from saying too much aloud, giving too much of the game away as Julian’s face fixates on his upside down, not even seeming to care if the table drives into his neck. Garak sees those lips part deceptively thin but so soft, mouth so pretty, open now in such a perfect O he has half a completely gone mind to walk over right now and feed Julian his cock deep, hard, feeling the caress of his throat. There’s a careful hitch to Garak’s breath at that thought that he’s forced to swallow down at that mental image, so vivid, blanking his eyes so deep he barely even sees Dukat snapping his hips, pulling Julian to him harder faster, drawing more cries, more moans. Dukat covers his body driving just a little deeper from that tell of hips, that angle and Julian almost looks there but Garak knows that look, and knows that even as Dukat releases into him that Julian isn’t there.
   He feels such gratification at that he really has to hide that smile on his face and school it into something far more believable for a man who’s just watched his lover, his sex starved little human get pounded by Dukat. Ah, I almost had hope for you, Dukat, but it seems you’ve come up short in this as well. He hides that thought behind a hand, keeping his eyes angry, fierce, barely holding back that urge to fight as Dukat smirks at him his own lust satisfied. He sees Julian laying there, breathing hard, so “please master finish me please” that he’s already to his feet before he realizes it. He stops there however as Dukat sneers at him, seeming far more satisfied with his performance than a man who hasn’t even made his partner climax has any right to be. Really, Dukat, Gul Darheel would’ve given a more impressive performance and he was impotent.
“Such savagery,” Dukat says with a reproving click of his tongue walking back around to the front of the desk, already starting to retract, and Garak thinks if he wants savagery the bottom of the chair has his name on it. “Whatever happened to that vaunted control of yours, Garak? Instead you’re standing there like a boy who just realized that a pretty girl can make it come out.” Garak swallows down what he’d really like to say, careful, so careful now that Dukat has taken a step back and ordered Julian to clean him off.
   “I seem to have misplaced it somewhere in Ops. I believe it may be keeping your ethics company.” Garak watches Julian unsteadily push off the table, rolling off with an undignified breathy fall, and he can see, strangely, that while some of that mindless urge has abated, Julian is clearly still foggy, out of sorts. wanting, needing and that fills Garak with such a drive to give it to him he once again almost forgets himself when Julian kneels before Dukat and starts licking, sucking, lapping with soft breathless moans.
“As if you’re in any position to moralize to me, Garak.” A hand to Julian’s hair makes Garak almost growl in warning as close as he is, as close as Dukat is to finally leaving. “Standing there, licking your wounds, while your pet is so eager to give himself to me.”
“You always did like to delude yourself into believe those who come to your bed do so willingly.” He really wishes he had Julian’s mouth on him. Julian is so eager with his mouth, so hot, so- human primitive, animal, messy, sticky, sweaty on him, under him. It’s not exactly doing wonders for his ability to act humbled and angry enough to get Dukat to just leave already.
   “How unwilling does he look to you?” comes the half purr that makes Garak have to once more resort to a literal biting of the tongue. No, not so much the predictable rejoinder but the half turn of Julian’s face, looking at him again, Garak swearing he’s doing this to him on purpose as some strange twisted revenge. There’s also the possibility that this is all some lust driven delusion when those hazel eyes darkened, desirous catch his tongue flicking, lips drawing in the soft fold around that slit, Dukat’s prick quivering, almost looking like Julian might draw it back out again with those breathless ministrations. Garak doesn’t care if it damns everyone on the station, on Cardassia Prime itself right about now if Dukat even thinks about going to a second round- third, the Julian in his head pedantically supplies- then he’s going to...
“Surely... you’ve had your fill...” Garak says, determined to sound angry, contrite, defeated, if it kills him. “Surely you can strut back out into Ops with your victory,” he says trying to make that curse sound as close to a plea as he can manage. He really hopes Major Kira blasts Dukat into atoms as soon as the alarm is called off. Though admittedly that won’t be half as satisfying as seeing Dukat humiliated, brought low and demoted down to little more than a paid cannon fodder grunt. He should’ve tried to get him to say something about Central Command while he was at it, but even Garak can only work so much magic.
   He imagines he looks pained and judging by the insufferable gloat as Dukat sighs lustily and gives Julian a final scratch behind the ears that likely isn’t far off.
“Do you really imagine he has anything left for you?” comes the scoff as Dukat resituates himself and Garak swallows hard, not quite daring to take another step forward. His hands wring behind his back nearly chafing scales once more as he manages a pained grimace.
“All I have are my dreams, Dukat,” he says and finds that statement far too close to the truth to be even remotely comfortable. It’s that heat. It’s that Gul’s damned heat that Dukat seems free to ignore, to traipse through seeing as how he likely couldn’t rouse himself again if he tried. Garak could. Oh Garak has done that and then some with Julian spurring him on, sobbing his name, panting, pressed to the mirror of his shop smearing all that lovely human sweat all over it while Garak screws him raw. Oh yes, Garak will definitely have everything left that he needs.
   He shifts from one foot to another, contritely, swallowing bile as he makes a quick gesture for Julian’s eyes only, satisfied when that command is obeyed without question, Julian slumping to the floor, as if spent. Dukat laughs at that as he finally, finally, makes his way to the door deciding that Julian will hardly be of any use to Garak, far too self absorbed to see the breathless panting, the twist of Julian’s body, the pleading look he directs towards Garak. Soon... soon. He doesn’t even think he hears Dukat’s last cutting dig when those doors open, when he hears some commotion and promptly forgets to even care. It’s the two of them now, and there’s a pregnant pause while Garak stands there, slowly drawing his hands free from behind his back, bending his fingers back on each hand stretching, flexing, his entire body shivering as he can hardly decide how to even begin.
   There are so many possibilities, so many things he considers that conflict, clash, culminate in some scenario that would require two more of him and perhaps one more Julian. At the forefront is that drive to cover him, to use those shaky hands to free his cock, to rut, to fuck, to brutalize until Julian’s throat is raw. But as he takes another step, counting three steps or one ridiculous lunge to where Julian lay naked and dripping, there’s another thought that comes to the forefront of his mind. First to get him out of you. Yes, that will never do. He can see Dukat’s seed dripping out of Julian’s body and his nostrils flare, that desire to possess, to fully claim clamoring for control and he finally allows it. Julian is panting, looking at him, eyes drawing back to some mindless lusty state but not quite. There’s just enough there that Julian speaks his name and Garak is seized with a maddening urge to prove that he’s just as capable of ludicrous feats of strength as Dukat.
   Garak sinks to his knees, joints creaking that abrupt motion in protest. This is ridiculous, rationality cheerfully informs him as he takes Julian’s ankles and just drags him across the smooth surface of the floor with one mostly smooth motion. Rationality dies, is silenced, is murdered by that dominating drive to mark Julian as his once more, hands clamoring up legs, long beautiful legs that are thrown over his shoulders now. Except that Garak does not use the position to fuck no, not yet. His cock aches, hurts throbs like it’s on fire, as if his own skin can’t contain its own need but first he needs to get that out. Julian flails, barely finds some purchase to the ground as Garak lifts him up, hands on his thighs, on his ass squeezing, grabbing whatever flesh he can.
“G-Ga...rak... I...” And whatever Julian is about to say is silenced with a strangled swallow, Garak’s mouth between his legs, not to his cock but lower, past his balls, past sweaty skin until Julian’s reddened hole meets his lips. It pleases him that the brief stretch that Julian’s anus has when Garak finishes with him is nowhere to be found, that tight ring having closed back, the only evidence of Dukat that trail of slick semen between his thighs, just a few last spurts working their way out.
   He’s possessed, a man possessed. That’s his only explanation for the madness which causes him to fasten his mouth and suck, and draw out any remaining trail of Dukat licking, swallowing, mouth to Julian’s ass, his thighs, anywhere that he sees that clear shimmer, that thick white, the taste bitter down his throat. He hears his little head Julian telling him cheerfully that it’s the practice of some avians to peck a rival’s semen out so that he might inseminate a female with his own. Garak had scoffed at that ludicrous animal ritual until this very moment when he thinks those birds may well be some of the smartest creatures in the galaxy. Garak hears Julian’s keening cry, and that lack of weight reveals Julian on elbows trembling, holding his weight up, holding his hips head thrown back, legs spreading wider for him as he works his tongue inside. He doesn’t think a bird could’ve done it better.
“Yes.... yes... out... get.... gettim... out...” Julian seems to recall that exact moment or read that crazy thought straight from his head- with his enhancements the sky’s the limit- except right now the limit is the limit breaking bounce of hips making his shoulders ache, making him squeeze bruising hard as he swallow gasps Julian into another round of half sobbing moans.
   He’s not certain he breathes, only breathing Julian’s scent, relying on that to sustain his lungs, Julian’s skin so soft, so pink, so very human as he breathes it all in. It’s so human with its sweat but decidedly alien, reptilian, that heat, that glorious ripe sex musk that makes Garak want to give it to him so hard. It flares where once it seems to have died down, for him, only for him and Garak doesn’t even realize he says that out loud until he hears a babble yes from Julian, one stab, one suck more of his mouth to Julian’s trembling little hole makes Julian drop down on his elbows, makes Garak drop him with a thud, thin back hitting the floor with a loud smack. But he doesn’t stop there. Garak wants to taste him more, wants to get down and dirty right with his little human and he shoves Julian’s thighs back knees nearly knocking into his own head As Garak leans forward following Julian’s backward fall almost rolling him up, exposing Julian’s ass, head to toe tan, golden, right to that pink pucker, he thinks that there is a certain sexual lacking in that racial aversion to such sordid mouth play but he loves it. He loves his mouth on Julian’s ass, on his hole, and those few times he’s indulged himself, he’s even found that he likes the salty skin of Julian’s prick filling his mouth.
   Garak groans, shifting, feeling the unpleasant wet between his legs, that swamp growing more obvious. His cock seems to decide that this is the end game that precome drizzling out with each further press of his hands to Julian’s ass spreading him, each stab, each fuck of his tongue to Julian’s hole met with a sympathetic rock of his hips into his bunched and balled up undergarments until he thinks the friction of that alone with bring him to completion. He wishes he could see Julian’s face right now. He can hear those strangled cries and imagines Julian’s index finger curled over knuckle side bitten brazen bites the higher his pleasure grows. Yes, you want this so badly, my dear Julian. You think a few pills are going to bring this under control? You think that you don’t spend half our encounters looking at me over the rim of that teacup, that sweet, your eyes begging me, your tongue licking the edge like you can think of nothing more than me filling you? You’ve no idea how deeply I’m inside you, and I’ve every intention of making sure that you never forget. Garak loves hearing him beg, hearing him half sob and as those slim thighs tremble, he pulls his mouth back tasting at last Julian and only Julian from that skin, his tongue replace by two spit wet fingers drilling ten centimeters deep in one hard thrust.
   Garak groans hearing the raw throat scrape, watching Julian’s ass suck those in, feeling that clench, that tip of hips begging for more. He doesn’t need to tell Julian to hold that positions, to keep himself there, he can see Julian’s arms move, holding the backs of his own knees flush to either side of his face just the way he likes it, spread so beautifully for him, such an invitation that he doesn’t even need to hear the words to know how badly that body needs him. He needs it just as much, fingers a pitiful substitute for his aching cock and with another deep digit drive, he wrings another throaty hitch from Julian wondering if this will be one of those blessedly few times that Julian’s body wets itself just a little- if he’ll get to feel that faint slick beyond the normal tissue damp. Oh he wants it. He wants to make Julian mindless enough, make that Omega so starved it readies him like an animal. Twice it’s happened, twice he’s felt that secretion around him, easing his passage even more so than his own natural lubricant, hotter than Julian’s own body making him feel molten. It was incredible, Julian wailing so loudly so long that the neighbors complained and Quark a world away swore that he’d heard him.
   Garak will. He decides that now. He needs this. He needs Julian this one last undignified time to want him like this. Willing, eager, unfettered, unabashedly his. Garak licks his lips and pulls his fingers back, to another breathy whine and another plea to just putitin.... Yes, that’s nice. That’s exactly what he needs as he hastily strips his shirt, the shirt underneath and shaking hands fumble with his damn sticky pants as he tries to decide just how he wants Julian the most right now. At least the shoes slip off easily. That position is so terribly tempting, Julian open, wanting, his hands moving, long graceful doctor fingers on his ass, spreading himself and Garak can imagine the pain of his upper back, shoulders on the hard floor as his legs lock straight, feet on the floor above his head, every muscle straining to keep himself there for Garak’s scrutiny and he hears Julian whisper to him almost angrily, “this is what you want, isn’t it?” almost as if it’s Julian proper speaking those hatefully to himself. Garak almost comes when he hears that Julian, when he pictures that scowl, that frown of those lips and that little wrinkle between his eyes. That face Julian makes when he hates something that he really loves and Garak sees his hands move shaking, middle fingers slipping between his spread ass cheeks into that pink hole, adding to the stretch a held open invitation punctuating that statement.
   Garak absolutely decides that he wants him this first time where he can see his face breaking resistance down as he grabs his hips and watches Julian scream for him. Yes, that’s exactly how he wants him. Garak licks his fingers, tasting Julian, tasting the promise of that tight ass stretching around his cock and he cannot help but finally indulge in a long, far too belated rough glide of his hand up the full length of his thick shaft. And he doesn’t know how Julian seems to register that action but he hears another little hissing plea from him, those muscle shaking even harder.
“For God’s sake if this... if this is what you want already then...” Then of course Julian should already be halfway to a dark bright fall through space and Garak feels his cock slick even more as he draws that anticipation out, not watching Dukat, not rubbing against him under a damn table, but properly, finitely, fully just putting it in.
“If you’re determined to deny me an eternity after this, Julian, then I should think to enjoy it,” he whispers, taking one of Julian’s hands, licking his finger clean making Julian gasp. “Or would you deny me that pleasure as well?”
   He crawls up over Julian’s body, feeling Julian’s legs drop around his waist as if that’s where they’ve always belonged, and Julian looks at him with such lusty devotion he doesn’t think that he himself could fabricate a better deceit.
“I’ll never deny you anything,” Julian swears, that devoted animal swearing head shaking back and forth, fevered, urgent, and Garak promises himself in that moment that he’s going to fuck him hard enough that he’ll never forget it.
Spoiler alert for the next chapter- lots of fucking.
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I, Garak