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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Well that was some hiatus... I'm still imagining this to only have one more chapter- 2 if some weird sex-spiration hits so yeah, stay tuned. Maybe it gets a bit weird towards the end I dunno. I didn't want to put a "magical healing cock" warning since it's not exactly "healing" but this may need some kind of magical dick warning. I know, I have a problem *cough* Anyway, thank you all for your support and I will work on the next update not being a year and a half later.

   If that primitive Omega self had stemmed from some tangible central piece Julian would rip the damn thing out of him and stomp it to the floor. He hates those words even as he says them. He hates how right they feel and how much he wants to say them again. He hates the way his knee presses into Garak’s waist, the coquettish curl of his foot around to Garak’s back and that warmth, that damn warmth. That’s not how this is going to work. He’s going to get his medication and he’s going to go back to normal and Garak is never going to touch him like this ever again. Julian blinks a few times, looking Garak full in the face before he averts his eyes with a tight press of his lips. That resolve had lasted three seconds before a cold stomach pit drops his throat to tightness, before there’s a near screaming in his head that he’s not going to lose this that he’s not going to… disobey his Alpha.
Julian swallows hard at that thought, swallowing it down ‘til it dies drowning beneath every other unwanted self revelation. Rather his hips tilt in invitation for Garak to finish what Dukat couldn’t. And that’s when he senses the victory, that sense of satisfaction that Julian is still in this state, unsatisfied, wanting, needing. It practically rolls off in smug little scaly lizard waves a sea of triumph as Garak’s mouth is to his ear, hot heavy breaths making him shiver.
“Such a pity to give a masterful performance like that only to be left wanting.”
“I-“ An automatic protest neatly devoured by a long slow suck of his earlobe.
“Oh, but you are… so… very… wanting…” A deliberate oversight of Julian’s protesting his very obvious performance. Mmm… that last breathy declaration makes his toes curl before straightening, the muscles of his foot tense to near spasm. His only defiance is arms that remain locked down to the floor hard, muscles straining until the lactic acid makes them burn shoulders to knuckles shackled down to the ground.
   But that shake isn’t only from his arms, no. Julian feels his entire body tense, focused on Garak’s finger circling the sensitive rim of his ass, hips canting more, closer and he can’t deny any of it. I want you. Not just want but need; he needs it. Not Dukat, not some pretender to the throne as they say, but Garak. Garak, who his body says is his Alpha, the only one who controls his release, and he realizes that he couldn’t have climaxed with Dukat if he’d actually been trying. Julian licks his lips with that anxious realization. God will you ever be able to… when all this is over… will you even be able to- It blinks away with a flutter press, of Garak’s finger working just enough to cause his muscle fluttering open shut like his eyes.
“For you,” Julian pants that confession unable to look anywhere but the legs of Commander Sisko’s desk. “Only you c-ca… aah… aah…” He falters that sentence as Garak once more presses in the tip of his finger, just the tip nothing more but there’s some coding, some recognition between their bodies that his craves more than any other. Julian feels every muscle contract, wanting to hold him there, draw him in deeper beg for anything else. God you shouldn’t be… You’re pathetic you know that. You shouldn’t just be allowing this so readily… not after all this time, not when you’re so close to-
   And Julian thinks brilliantly that’s likely the reason why those genetic tendrils that have poison ivy snaked their way around every facet of him have changed their tact now. Because he is close, because he is making that final desperate pitch to escape. That… that can’t be allowed, you know. He hears that thought, his own distant voice echoing from a far off dawn. You know that you can’t lose this. You know that you don’t want to lose this… him… That thought pervades and the rail against it is such a sad fleeting echo it’s a wonder it was ever even there. I don’t want to lose myself. But hadn’t he already? Or rather, wasn’t the self a mutable changing entity regardless of whether that metamorphosis was the result of a conscious awakening or some reptilian xy sludge slopped into him some thirty years back? He supposes that’s one for the philosophers as they say. There will be plenty of time for thoughts such as those later… much later. When there is no Garak. If that’s… if that’s even possible.
But then Julian forgets it, keening, half sobbing as Garak just plays with him, circling deeper, but no less teasing, no less promising of exactly what he wants, hands opening, closing, clenching until his nails dig dents to his palms.
“This is all for me, Julian?” Garak asks again, though they both know that he already knows the answer. His mouth is on Julian’s neck sucking hard, bringing blood to the surface of Julian’s flushed heated skin with every rough drawing over of his teeth. He’s baiting him. They both know it. And as ripple quiet calm as his voice is, his fingers dig into Julian’s thigh hard enough to surely bruise. But Julian can play that too, words biting like sharp surgeon’s scissors.
“It is and you know it, Garak. Unless you’ve got a mind to whore me out again for some other self serving power game.” Those caustic words elicit a sharper suck sting, Garak’s mouth an eternal fascination with his neck, with his pulse, teeth continuing that slow welling of blood just below the skin with fervor even as he speaks slow, thickly.
“Would you like that, Julian? Does that other self of yours pulse at the prospect of my watching you, wanting you, but not able to so much place a finger on you?”
“I-“ There’s counterpoint press that goes a point past teasing, that opens him up just precisely enough to morph words to meaningless morphemes, back down to a series of throaty vociferations that lack even that much sophistication.
“Or is it you, Julian, that wanted me then? That wants me now?” One knuckle count two fingers, deeper harder, god yes. His neck jolts a sharp shake to deny that, smacks his head on the hard floor, and his lips stay parted, a gasp growl of some acknowledgement not daring to agree but- “Yes, I think that is you, my dear doctor Bashir…” Second knuckle slow slide please please I can’t… “My” emphasized so darkly Julian shivers through the heat knees pressing more tightly and he swears he feels Garak slide up just enough the angle of his hips pushing the tip of his prick close enough to brush the small of Julian’s back.
   Tongue trapped to his palette to stifle himself, Julian’s breaths hitch high and Garak keeps talking, whispering to him not even needing his answer. He knows. He knows how badly Julian wants him, he’s always bloody well known.
“I saw your eyes, Julian. I saw you spreading yourself, thinking of me, dreaming that thoroughly inadequate rod to be mine plunging into you, weren’t you?” Another finger, three count deep, thick so good God what are you-
“H-ha… I… I” So hard to say it, so hard to… So hard, so hard… It feels like he’s held that stone pillar heavy so long in his loins it’s all he can recall, Garak pressing closer, pressing digits twisting to angle deeper as Julian’s thoughts whirl wild impacting asteroids of that sight, of that scent as Julian couldn’t reach out, couldn’t touch. Image after image of the flush dark of Garak’s scales around his eyes, the swell of the ridges of his neck, those eyes boring through him, thick cloth hiding nothing of his desire but even if he were to shut his eyes he could still know.
He wasn’t sure at first how- he’s used to being told he has all the ability to read people of a breached bulkhead, and why a breached bulkhead he has no idea- but he can scent that need still. Not just smell but taste and his tongue flicks out the same time as Garak’s moves to the shell of his ear, tugging roughly. And Julian thinks he can almost taste his own blood even as it pounds in his ears, the salty tang in the air hanging thick and heavy like he imagines Garaks cock between his legs; and that thought brings to the forefront a taste distinguished from the rest. Julian realizes as his face flushes darker that’s exactly what he can feel coating his tongue. It drops around them like a humid haze, his mouth, his lungs filled with it until he thinks he might need to trach’ himself just to be able to breathe again.
Julian doesn’t know if the seeming conflation between his olfactory and gustatory senses is part of that illegal modification or if that’s one of many miserable evolutions of his enhancements. It seems to be the latter since Julian can’t recall a single time in the years that this dance has been going on that he’s had such a pervasive sense of Garak’s arousal. Just another aberration to your mad biology, right Julian? Yes, the wonder of medicine, of biology, of the infinitively adaptable genome. And surely some complementary genetics to set off those odd little evolutions combined with the neural pathway acceleration allowing those strange cells to divide, to change dozens of generations mutated just like a bloody virus. Marvel of modern medicine that. Perhaps he ought to be thankful there weren’t any Cardassians at the Academy in that case. There’s a twinge at that- a sense of reciprocal possession that floods him so deeply he feels a clutch making his body snap freeze at the very idea that anyone but Garak could ever- ever… oh oh never ever oh oh… Joined four open wide yesmore...
Open mouth, no sound save for scant hitching breaths with the flare of Garak’s palm, a throaty groan growl to Julian’s ear that hand a proxy for Garak’s surely painfully hard prick pressed more insistently to his back and that “y” such an impossible sound to make when he can hardly swallow properly.
“Is that a yes that I hear? Is that the desperate wordless begging of my Julian telling me that he’ll give me whatever I desire? No matter how rough, how hard, how wide I want to-“ Drivemeopenyes Julian finishes the thought without hearing sure that’s it’s a near perfect mirror and there’s a stilted jerk of his head, a thrash, a pleading “nnggh” that makes a high pitched scrape like a scalpel over metal. And just like that sound fissioning down his spine his entire body tingles, pulsing with some ancient frequency as Garak teases the potential of that full hand, Julian’s body clenching, trying to draw in any part of Garak that comes into him.
“Ah... haaa.... I... aye...” a far easier sound coupled with a jolt of Julian’s right hand gravitating like an electromagnetic smack to Garak’s face. But it isn’t a chastising slap but rather an uncoordinated failing of his prized neural pathways as he grabs for Garak’s face, the back of his head to pull him down from that dark desirous look to answer him rather mouth to mouth.
“Now was that so hard, my dear?” Garak husks, so deep it’s nearly a rumble of sound that makes Julian’s toes curl and knees go from gripping to tipping sideways further, hips tipping up to meet Garak’s driven near half a palm deep. And Julian has a wild and wonderful image of that resistance breached further, full hand engulfed by his eager body and his legs tremble, that bodily spasm back like some malfunctioning android of old.
   It makes his eyes open wider right before he shuts them to drown in it, if it were possible to sink into a scent, that’s exactly what he does tasting not so much a tangible object like some strawberry potpourri, but rather the scent of darkness, the tongue tripping taste of a memory of the sky over Cardassia Prime at night, some dessert blossom blooming only under a sliver of moonlight. It’s some intimacy that he really doesn’t want right now but it’s there, spiral swirling galaxy with some hot raw musk, panting to his ear, breaths seeming to sync with his as his own respirations grow more ragged and he turns his head, neck craned, mouth moving to the dark flushed ridges of Garak’s neck breathing, tasting, half wanting to bury his face as his left hand tries and crumble the floor beneath it, fingers sore, shake pressing as hard as he can because he knows that he can’t-
“I… t… touch… I want to… p… please…” the words don’t come easily, sticking in his throat as he tastes the sweat of Garak’s skin and he really wants to taste him deeper, not with just his mouth with every part of him and he almost thinks he’s going to be denied until Garak’s voice is a low whisper, barely retrained need slicing through. Julian has no idea how he didn’t sense it before, but he can taste that need past that crumbling control barrier salty sweet like caramel and just as sticky.
“If as you say that you’ll never deny me anything,” Garak seems to hesitate, fingers digging harder into his thigh, that swollen tip trailing to Julian’s skin making him half whimper. “Then it would be in poor taste not to vow the same.”
   That permission grants him some blessed relief, Julian’s left hand bouncing from the floor vaulted like some space arrow flying hard, both coming to grab Garak’s broad shoulders, kneading, squeezing, feeling the muscles beneath his fingers bunch, feeling the growl as his thighs squeeze Garak’s waist so hard they tremor with the warning shocks of some major eruption. His teeth brush, lips bared back, some animal lust reasserting, and he hears Garak redirect what is surely some nearly whispered hush of his name as that penetrating hand deserts and he grinds against him wet, hard, surely as close to bursting as Julian is. Julian can feel his shaft sliding between his spread cheeks wet, hot wanting him to beg he just knows it and he wants to beg just as badly, body already pleading with each insistent push up of hips until he feels his abdominal muscles nearly cramp with that effort to feel more contact.
“In me…” his mouth is a back and forth brush of teeth up Garak’s neck to his ear, his head turning, rubbing his cheek again, some ancient meaning held for that Omega self that’s actually, crazily starting to mean something to Julian as well. You’re mine… That’s the aberrant thought that would stop him dead if it didn’t feel so immediately right, if Julian’s body wasn’t engulfed with that need for Garak to prove it. “Please.. inme…” Another hitch of his leg as if he could climb it to heaven and drag Garak’s cock into him right along with it.
   Julian sees the darkening beyond that swollen flush of scales, sensing the blood welled to the surface beneath his teeth and he feels some visceral satisfaction with another rough grind, another snap of hips, low voice teasing him if that’s what he really wants, Julian Julian, name doubled like a benediction or heathen prayer to summon some pagan god of lusty dirty fucking. God what else do I need to… Julian whines again with another rut, another drag of that everted shaft up, rubbing his tight sensitive sac until that rub, rubs his cock harder, heavier, star bursting until it’s no longer enough to tease but to bite, but to tangle his fingers in Garak’s unravelling slicked back hair to crush their mouths together savagely.
   Like a human, Garak would say lacking elegance, lacking finesse, lacking anything but some mindless fornication drive but Julian knows how he loves it. He bites at Garak’s mouth, fingernails digging into his scalp, and he feels air rush out when Garak’s hands shift to his slender shoulders and slam them back those few inches to the hard floor. And Garak follows with a cover of that heavy body to his chest, keeping him from a full breath, mouth holding him down, teeth meeting his, tongue meeting teeth, every gasp drawing a keening claw up from his throat. Julian’s chest heaves, and he sees spots dancing some sparking electric pulses blink white making it tingle behind his eyes, one hand clutching at Garak’s back, nails short, sharp dragging along his spine ripping a deep throaty groan from Garak’s mouth to his. Julian edges close, so close, that his entire body beats hot and out of breath one thrumming hard heartbeat making his chest to his toes ache salt swollen full.
   He can feel the sweat beading, running, and he doesn’t know how he’s ever going to survive this when Garak hasn’t even entered him and he’s already-
“Ha… ah… g-godgodgod…” that last cry pulled from his vocal chords almost chokes him his throat is so tight. Those words mash against Garak’s mouth before their lips part, heads tilting, forehead to forehead instead and that dip of Garak’s, that chufa seems to spill fire into him as Garak laughs softly. He teases with a bruising squeeze to Julian’s shoulders and another roll of his hips that he’s not God but simply Garak. Julian thinks they’re one in the same in the moment that Garak’s cock slides over his, eclipsing, that mass a slide sticky sweet glide with just enough friction to induce one edematous seize of his lungs.        He forgets breathing completely, warm wetness spilling between them, his back arching with a quick snap hard enough to lift the both of them bodily for a solid count of three. That is if he were counting which he absolutely is not because right now all he can process is one one one right after another “ah ah ah” double metronome fast enough surely to short out a tricorder if he tried to take his own vitals right now. His head is dizzy swimming and if he hadn’t been nothing but one steady breath out he’s sure the wind would’ve left him with that rush.
   There’s nothing but wet, salty damp from his own skin, perspiring forehead down his neck, wet underneath his nails; he’d be properly mortified under any other circumstance but now the remnants of skin and blood just make him fucking purr with deep satisfaction. But that’s not the only wet as his eyes flutter flash shut reveling in the satisfying slick between their bodies. There’s some strange science at work, some other biology that he’s been terrified to properly explore until right this moment that it comes back vivid vicious, and his eyes snap wide, voice a stuttered hitch as he feels his hole clench, spasm, seeking something, and in that longing there’s a release he’s only ever experienced twice before- both with Garak.
   Julian’s voice is a stuttered stunt into silence, hearing nothing in the moment that he feels the trickle down, not unlike Garak’s own lubricating phallic secretion. Only it’s not coming from his cock but his hole, and he squeezes his legs, clenching tighter, as if he could somehow seal that shameful secondary proof of his altered body. But that only makes it worse, makes him want, and he can feel that his hardness hasn’t flagged at all, and Garak looks at him with the lustful eyes of some maddened animal wanting to fuck his claim so deep in that it embeds into his bloody DNA.
   Godyesdoit. And that thought is unadulterated his. It should scare the hell out of him but it doesn’t. Because it’s true. It’s just… Just a thought firing off into nothing with a pull back of Garak’s head, eyes blinking wider as if he cannot believe what’s just happened either. Stunned births sensuality personified in a beautiful panoptic pulse right before Julian’s eyes and before he can even vocalize that need, Garak’s hand fumbles fast with his prick and enters him so fast and deep he feels breath driven in and out like some ancient intraortic balloon pump. There’s this blissful breathless silence spanning into some time vacuum eternity that it takes Julian’s voice to catch up with the deep dimension rending girth of Garak’s massive shaft splitting him without warning, an endless slide down, eased by that wetness seeping out of his hole stretched wide, so wide that he almost can’t believe the elasticity of his own body.     And that’s when that silent scream shifts to a series of swallows, finding the voice to vocalize with a cry “oh” tripped to “God” some glorious guttural gospel wailing the walls down, and god he prays that somewhere someone locked the door because he’s sure it sounds like he’s being murdered some dreamy death by impalement as Garak grabs at his thighs before landing to his slim hips with some purpose long faded away to beautiful lusty impatience. Coordination lacks and falters with a series of swift grabs each seeking greater purchase to drag Julian’s body more forcefully to his. As if Garak’s hips alone cannot fully thrust hard enough, deep enough to satisfy that need, he pulls, the tops of Julian’s thighs providing the deepest best angle and Julian feels his arms drained of blood, drop down to his own head hands trying to hold back his last remaining shreds of sanity from being fucked out of his head, his long fingers tangling in sweat slick strands.
   He thinks he can see Garak speaking, the words lost in his own blood pulsing rush but he imagines “mine” he imagines “Julian”, he imagines the lusty grunts, groans, punctuating each brilliant plunge deeper into him. It isn’t fast. That’s the wonder that leaves his twisting and writhing, half sobbing as Garak’s fingers bruise harder, pull their frantic bodies together with more determination. It’s not the pace but the depth, the intensity as Garak slides out nearly all the way, ridges around his cock hard, alive, throbbing hot, pushing back against the walls of Julian’s tight spasming heat as his body tries desperately to lock him, to squeeze him until he has no choice but to release. Deeper, god Julian doesn’t know how, has always questioned the inane hyperbole of being fucked into one’s throat until he can feel every bottoming out force his jaw to clench, his throat to close around every strangled whimper, taut, literally gagging on it until he thinks it might the most brilliant bloody death in human existence.
   “More...” That’s him. That’s him and he doesn’t know how he forces words between gasps, between keening whimpers that nearly hurt his ears. Garak slows, groans some beautiful epithet that makes Julian force his eyes back open to the spinning ceiling the sight of the man above head thrown back in a rare display of such thick Cardassian perspiration that the doctor in him panics just a moment. But only for a moment before Garak’s hips tilt again, lifting him just a bit more, another nanometer, another measurement that should surely be too small for human perception but just then Julian thanks that whimsical deity that he can feel it. He thinks that his thighs should hurt from that strain, that control of this position, but is it Garak moving him, molding him, the corded muscle of forearms, biceps never more apparent and Julian’s mouth is dry as that still of movement allow him to feel the massive shaft in him and all at once drink in the sum of the man driving into him and god help him he doesn’t just need it he wants it.
   “More...” He begs again, not even knowing what more could possibly encapsulate until Garak’s head falls back to look at him blue eyes not lust clouded but desirously clear. Hands leave his thighs and Julian sees the strands of thick black hair messily plastered to his face, aching to touch, to drag through them, that evidence of such a wild loss of control making him heady. As Garak pants, as the drumming roars back long enough to hear, he sees lips moving, catching the smirk in his voice before it appears on his face bringing a warm rush of anticipation to his already wet dripping cock.
“Do you truly think you can handle more... my Julian?” Garak asks, his eyes a mirror of Julian’s own licentious sweep each admiring the other bathed in passion driven dishevelment. I want you... The thoughts clear though he doesn’t quite process that significance and won’t consider until much later. God I want you...
   His... its... Julian doesn’t allow that defiant self examination in that moment as Garak either leans in or draws Julian closer. Yes everything... Not eclipsed into a mash of words but clear, direct, Julian’s mouth curving to its own natural smile, belly aflame with that query as he finds the words come not forced, but rather allowed in their natural tone for that instant.
“Everything...” he breathes realizing that it was in fact Garak dragging him up after all- though hardly a feat, he considers acknowledging that he isn’t exactly a teaspoon of neutron star. “Mmmm...” sinking, biting his lip because he has no Earthly clue how else to handle that perfect slide back down Garak’s cock as he’s pulled to his lap, straddling Garak’s thick strong thighs for just a moment before his legs shift wrapped around Garak’s back and he can feel wide palms spreading his ass around the root of that big blessed monster piercing him.
   His mouth opens, closes, swallows as Garak’s mouth is on his collarbone roughly drawing another series of hitches sighs from him.
“If you can handle more, then take more,” Garak whispers and Julian’s legs wrap around his torso squeezing as Garak gives a soft bounce, a bite, another hard rock holding him open as Julian’s hands, arms over Garak’s shoulders aid that lift, that fall with a soft series of inarticulate curses at that dominant Alpha manhandling. Garak controls him even as Julian moves himself, rocks into him, fucks himself to near orgasm on Garak’s cock, the warm slick pooling between them, trickling onto Garak’s thighs from them both, sticky, keeping that depth drilled as deep as gravity will allow. Julian can feel his prick rub Garak’s stomach, his own, tightly coiled waiting for Garak’s release, praying so badly for his to follow, up, down, Julian’s brain stopping count somewhere past fifty going from that subconscious compulsion to a white out yesyesyes as Garak forces a finger beside that girth to make him stop and nearly hit his face into Garak’s shoulder when that extra stimulation makes him surge anew with heat.
   “A... alpha...” slips, the word not unfamiliar between them both but rarely used outside some carefully guarded clinical discourse. “Garak...” follows, past lust, to dizzying delirium as Julian feels euphoria dancing to some sex induced state of anoxia where every bit of oxygen seems ferried back and forth between his cock and his stretched, battered hole. “Please...” he breathes again, seemingly only having enough air for those pleas for it’s surely not to breathe as Garak is slow, methodical, each steady push of his hips surging serotonin through Julian’s body until he feels high and weightless. He doesn’t beg for more, for harder for faster, but for that final pinnacle of heat, of Garak’s seed, feeling the swell, the pulse barely held in check and he doesn’t know if Garak was waiting for him to beg or was holding out for some other esoteric checkpoint but he knows that Garak is surely close.
“Please what... my dear...?” Garak breathes back, unfairly taking his mouth again as he somehow slips second finger alongside his cock making tears pinprick the corner of Julian’s eyes, half sobbing into that slow deep kiss.
   Julian swirls his tongue around Garak’s, panting, breathing far too hard for that lapping to be anything but impossibly messy, bathing Garak’s lips, their saliva sticky sweet between them both as he tilts his head and lets his eyes half close with each rolling wave of Garak’s hips angling his cock up, back, the slick slide surely coating his thighs with each new thrust until Julian can think of little else but Garak’s thick come joining it. He licks at Garak’s lips, at that open mouth each drawing a shiver that makes him shudder and clench in turn with the sympathetic throbs of Garak’s cock.
“Please...” Lick. “Comeinme...” Lick. “Alpha...” Lick. “Master...” And he doesn’t know where that last bit draws from, some half second skip of time where the universal translator lags to that word and Garak is impossibly still for that freeze of time. Long enough for Julian to nearly wonder if he hadn’t said something insulting, but that atomic second is only an eye blink before Garak’s eyes simply shut, fingers leaving so hands can grip his hips with every ounce of strength.
   Julian hears long groan of “Yesss” drawn to the skin of his neck thrumming his own heart to beat faster as Garak’s cock throbs, spasms, spills endlessly into him more and more, that hot ejaculate pouring into him until it starts dripping out and down the base and he doesn’t even realize that he’s coming himself until he becomes once again aware of the vibration of his own throat, and the feeling of being unstuck in time, floating, weightless with that starburst of explosion between them both making his entire body lock like a vice until it drains out of him like a broken hypospray. Julian’s legs drop down and he almost feels the room spin with the tingling aftershocks of his release making every expansion of Garak’s abdomen with those deep breaths a hypersensitive torture. He doesn’t care. He loves it, just as he loves the feel of that hard length still pulsing strong, locked into him like some primitive Earth hound.
   “Again,” He hears Garak’s voice rasp to his ear, pulling him out of the brief moment of euphoric reverie, the ebb of that Omega impulse bringing him back to a moment of reprieve that he knows won’t last. Yes, again is likely. Again is usually how it goes and Julian isn’t quite sure why Garak would feel the need to vocalize what’s usually a given. Especially when Garak swears that Julian’s body seems to draw some biological miracle out of him that practically keeps him hard for days but... But Garak’s fingers have moved at some point, tangling rough in his hair, pulling, owning, and Julian’s body already begins to respond when Garak tightens that grip almost savagely. “Call me “master” again.” And as that thought processes, semen, still seeping out between them, Julian feels as if he ought to consider the weight of his response with far more gravity. Naturally he doesn’t when he answers fervently.
“Yes, master.” And so it goes.
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I, Garak