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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
So no one's going to believe me if I swear seven chapters is it. I don't think I'd even believe it myself. This is probably too long for what it is but by God all the editing in the world couldn't trim it down any more so uh... Enjoy? Also, much Kudos to a stunning study of Cardassian psychology/memory that I read on Tumblr which I can't find now for the life of me or remember who wrote it so yeah.

There is no word “Alpha” in the Cardassian language. The words “Alpha” and “Omega” have always come through the translator unfiltered and alien sounding to his ears- slightly different than the sound of Julian’s usual unadulterated language when he speaks to him without it. Julian’s few explanations of either word have been rambling at best, evasive in most cases, and even Garak’s attempts to parse any underlying meaning out of them have yielded little. His private research has led to a number of definitions- amongst them some portion of an ancient alphabet only currently in use by esoteric social groups commonly seen in higher human education. Until now he’s generally assumed there to be an alternate sexual connotation as humans tend to be coy about such euphemisms. But until Julian’s slip just now- and what a beautiful slip it was- he had no idea the true significance as it pertained to the circumstances.
The translator did not have trouble with “master”. The translator brought that to his ear in an instant and in that instant that he froze, that the meaning slammed into him as he into Julian and that... did something to him. Far be it for him to find any uncomfortable parallels between himself and Dukat but even he had to admit there to be an ultimate aphrodisiac to be found in those words. Not a “sir”, not something so prosaic and trite, not the same mealy mouthings as one would hear from some Central Command Bureaucrat bumping into his superior on the hall, no, something far more... delectable. Garak’s tongue is a mirror of Julian’s: a thoughtful poke out, the two of them looking at each other breathing heavy, still in the moment as the entire Guls damned station likely collapses around them. Omega... vine’Uja... so there is an equivalent word after all...
“Again,” Garak says finding his voice to be far more raspy than he’d expected as the immediacy of his sore tingling legs begins to creep back to the forefront. Perhaps if he takes a moment he can-
“Master,” Julian repeats, the word more like a desperate breath than a proper address. More the better. So says his prick, flaring furiously back to life leaving him to wonder if there isn’t some internal agent in Julian’s tight slick hole seeping through his skin to cause such an impossible feat. There are few things in this life that Garak chooses not to question and this is one of them. Not when Julian’s face holds that precious expression of clarity, of a man who knows exactly what he’s saying.
He considers briefly what promises he might extract, what whispered oaths he might draw from him in such a vulnerable state. But if there is one confidence that Garak holds- especially now that he sees it so raw and unfettered- it is in the efficacy of that deeply conditioned desire. Yes, it may have been borne from that initial altered biology but you, my dear, have so egregiously underestimated the power of positive reinforcement cultivated over such a long time span. Only fools see torture, interrogation as a mindless exercise in brutality, as some masked figure wielding a spiked mace to flagellate some poor soul until he spills his darkest secrets. No, there is an art. There is a gift for knowing the most effective way to break a man. Really, Julian, it’s far easier to break a man with pleasure than with pain. Especially when said man has such a handle biological... what do you call it, Achilles tendon?
One can witness the slight breathless rock, the dazed and dreamy cloud of Julian’s hazel eyes as Garak shifts, as “again” is answered by “Master” without any hesitation by Julian’s own mouth, every syllable enunciated with precision precisely timed to each minute little pulse of his cock. Not even a whimper, but each gasp a tortured drag far more musical than any pained scream he imagines he could draw. And I could make you scream, my dear. I could certainly put the rod to you as it were until your throat was raw with the agony, until you didn’t recognize any sensation but those of “pain” and “less pain”, until you believed me God of your every nerve ending, until everything I wanted to hear spilled from your lips… He carefully corrals that thought, lest he allow the memories of similar sympathetic screams to conflate too much in his head with the present pleasure. Ah but that’s part of the alluring danger in your line of work, Elim. One cannot be too careful lest that conflation addict one to such sadistic pleasures which would compromise one’s professionalism... Then again, aren’t there those humans who actually delight in such oddities?
He’s wondered more than once if Julian might fall into that particular deviation with the few signs that he’s seen, and in spite of his efforts to the contrary, that image superimposes itself over Julian’s current breathless panting ecstasy, pain, pleasure, blurring to one breathless needy slave to his cock. Would you wear the same sheen of heavy human perspiration, I wonder? That skin lends itself so deliciously to a red blood darkened flush, to moisture, to heat. Julian normally runs hot and that extra elevated temperature during these cycles is even more addictive. Julian feels hot now around him, his skin warmer than Garak’s, damp, and in spite of his earlier vow, Garak’s brain continues that academic process of considering the strange biological alteration leaving his usually hypersensitive prick still heavy aroused, pulsing, throbbing as Julian minutely moves, muscles contracting unconsciously drawing those extraneous drops of come out of him.
A slight numbing effect then, that’s the difference from the other encounters. The recollection is a vivid overlay in time, Julian brought past the brink of any mindful ecstasy to the point of that sweet sticky lubrication and each time Garak noting his continued ability in reaction. He licks his lips and marvels at Julian’s oblivion to another of his altered body’s little quirks. Well best not to waste it then, right Elim? Not that any use of Julian’s willing body could ever properly be considered a “waste” but if this is to be the “final encounter” as surely Julian’s marked his calendar then as Garak promised earlier he certainly is going to enjoy this. Regardless of Garak’s firm conviction that this will hardly be the last time, it would seem foolish to allow that pragmatism to interfere with the moment’s enjoyment… such a frivolous thought- Guls, he’s been spending far too much time around these humans!
Garak nearly forget the pins and needles- a quaint human phrase he’s grown fond of- in his legs until he goes to shift and feels that insistent tingle reaching an incipient point of pain. Which means that Julian is going to need to move… …off of him that is until he gets that feeling back. He briefly considers perhaps amputation due to some mid coital staunch of blood would not be the most embarrassing medical malady in Cardassian History. He can already imagine some half a dozen others, some even involving an ill thought out tryst and that allows him just enough of a back off in that swimming haze of lust to decide that no, he’d rather not risk becoming a comical foil in some future medical text for so fleeting a pleasure. Yes, Elim Garak, case 51190 double amputation due to lover’s weight during coitus. No, there’s a much more insistent fleeting pleasure he’d been denied before and though there’s a brief concern that Julian’s mouth may nullify whatever blessed sensation reduction is currently leaving him fully aroused without incident well, by the State that’s just a risk he’s going to have to take.
There’s brief internal struggle as Garak’s hands once more settle on Julian’s tight firm ass with every blessed intent of lifting him clear off, each breath out as the movement slides sorely tempting him to let Julian’s panting body drop back down like some beautiful freefall to Terran, pierced, penetrated to a beautiful seismic depth. Yes, Julian’s eyes would do that lovely flutter shut and surely he would pant out another needy drawn out ”Master” and… And Garak musters every last ounce of willpower he’s ever possessed in his entire greedy existence to meet that slightly confused frown head on.
“Your mouth, my dear. Or have you forgotten that I was denied of the pleasure of your oral proficiency earlier?”
The immediate subconscious response from Julian is an almost feline lick of lips as if he were tasting him right now, that thought planted back into Julian’s head as his long legs untangle from Garak’s torso, aiding in that unwelcome loss of their joining. The weight lifted, Julian extracting himself with an indolent finality and a longing glance to Garak’s proud cock, Garak can feel that tingle of nerves in his legs as he straightens them back out. The feeling of blood moving again may very well be the second best thing he’s felt today and he casts himself a withering mental chastisement that he sounds like a hundred fifty year old Legate with nothing left but a million memories of youthful virility and little else. Hardly… “Hardly” being the amount that his erection has flagged with the blood pumping back through his legs. “Hardly” being the amount of time that Julian waits before putting a hand to his thigh and dipping his head, drawing a hiss as from Garak nearly falling backwards on the floor just barely catching himself on his hands.
He feels Julian’s hot breath ghost over him and he sees the heavy breaths as Julian glances up and locks eyes with him as if some silent permission is needed. No, this is not the animal, and that question of Julian’s eyes, leaves him wanting even more. Garak’s eyes move up Julian’s shaking shoulders to palms pressed to the floor on either side of his hips, and then further down the to the dip of his back to the swell of his ass stuck high in the air. His memories swirl around his head, the image of Julian hands on the bed, or better still behind his back as Garak fucks into his mouth. Sometimes Garak’s hands fall to the back of Julian’s head no longer needing any urging and the feel of his cock slipping down Julian’s throat always makes his knees buckle. He can see a brilliant flash of the future, a grand prophet of fellatio that vision surely coming to pass should he allow the current course to be run.
But as pleasant as that is, there is yet another thought that insinuates itself into his mix of memory. The sight of Julian’s ass wiggling in the air makes him wish he was both here to savor Julian’s mouth and then behind as well to appreciate the sight. It is that desire which gives him the most wicked idea- which Julian will inform him later between incredulous laughs is a practice so common in the human sexual lexicon that it has several hundred euphemisms along with its very own assigned numeric designation- and he steadies himself enough to put a finger to Julian’s sweat dampened forehead to halt that progression of his mouth.
“Turn around,” Garak says, imagining he may need to describe this with some detail when a knowing light flickers in Julian’s eyes in a moment of perfect sexual quantum entanglement. He looks about to ask if Garak is absolutely certain, the matter of “Cardassian puritanical coitus” having come up before in less heated moments, when Garak merely repeats that command, face feeling stretched hot with need. “Turn around, Julian.”
“Oh yes.... yes...Master...” Another lusty sigh, still dreamy, Julian likely remembering the feel of Garak’s mouth on him, the human memory needing more key triggers to snap the trap though Julian less than most. Perhaps Garak ought to send “the meddling old man” a token of thanks for whatever alterations have made Julian so blessedly receptive to such sexual conditioning. A basket of overly expensive confections ought to do... And speaking of delectable confections...
Garak lays back, thankful that one of Starfleet’s overhauls involved certain floors having heating that stays the chill. Granted that will do little for his back on the hard surface but as Julian shifts and swings, that thought is compartmentalized elsewhere, Julian’s knees straddling his chest, feet slipping under Garak’s arms, placing that perfect ass right at eye level. There’s a soft drag of Julian’s cock, of his sac over Garak’s chest, over the sensitive ridges making him shiver just as Julian’s mouth seeks to return to its previous task. His neck. Garak’s neck is going to hate him as well, craned at the angle it’s at and possibly his stomach muscles but that’s really... Guls what a sight, shut it you fool, thinking the most inane things instead of- His hands catch Julian’s thighs, holding him still from shifting any further back, admiring the sight of Julian’s hole, open, pink rimmed, those slim thighs sticky with thin silken strands of his come stretching, snapping wet with the spread of Julian’s legs. Garak just revels in watching his seed dribble out down those thighs, tongue already tasting that sweltering air in anticipation.
His hands tease up Julian’s thighs, feeling a shiver at the delicate ghosting of his touch over the faint dust of soft hair just so perfectly human until they rest on the smooth skin of his hips, the same golden like the rest of him surely naughtily sunned to nary a speck alternately colored. Oh yes, he certainly knows Julian’s coloring now slightly darker than natural, everywhere, right down to the dimple of his tight rear. Garak tactilely admires that flank as well with his right hand, now that Julian’s ceased his motion. He strokes a soft sigh, thumb then coming up to slowly circle between his spread cheeks, to press, to draw another whimper, another bite of Julian’s lip, a bow of his head that Garak doesn’t even need to see to know.
The perverse picture of his mouth to Julian’s hole once more this time to taste not Dukat but himself, but his own thick possession, is a sudden overwhelming imperative as his head moves that little bit more that’s needed. Garak’s mouth certainly beats Julian’s to its target tongue lapping those shaking thighs, feeling the dip of Julian’s chest down as his arms falter, clearly not expecting that a second time.
“Ha... ahhha....” Garak feels the clench of Julian’s open hole around his thumb perfectly as his tongue works up further, tongue giving way to his mouth tasting salty seed, swallowing, slurping thinking for his love of so many sweets there’s just that sweet tang that could almost get him strangely addicted to such a perverse delight. A drizzle of sticky icing over a bite of cinnamon bun- he recalls at the most inopportune time that Tolan would sometimes say a man thinks more of culinary desires the older he gets and resolves never to remember that again
“I should...” Garak licks- sucks loudly without reservation for the nails digging into the tops of Julian’s thighs that it draws. “Make more room...” Garak alternates two fingers to fucking it in and out of him wondering what it might be like to watch Julian’s ass hold some other implement of devilish pleasure to force him open like this for Garak’s pleasure. “To fill you again...”
“Yes...” a heady almost Cardassian hiss drawn, Julian’s breath back over his swollen everted glans in answer. He wants to buck his hips up, give that undignified silent plea of his own but already he feels Julian’s hand shake, squeeze the base of his cock just a touch too hard as he indulges in a lusty bite of Julian’s left buttock and knows that won’t be necessart. Another squeeze, another whimper and Garak’s hands move back to those cheeks with a rough slap, a half swallowed “ys... god” and he feels there could potentially be a pleasant reception to greater, more carefully extracted pain. Marvelous.
He runs his tongue around Julian’s stretched pink rim, feeling spit, sweat, some drip from Julian as he swears softly, a harder squeeze, pressure still numbly dampened as he feels an awkward brush of lips, another bob of Julian’s chest as he tries to steady himself. Garak imagines if he teases enough he can make Julian’s entire body drop, the side of his face rubbing against Garak’s cock overcome with the sensation. He squeezes pliant flesh, holding him open wide, that tease prompting another soft spasm, another wash of what seems to be an endless river of his seed flowing out and right then he almost chokes himself when Julian’s head shifts a shaky, soft scrape of his mouth, teeth trailing carelessly as that mouth lowers down, down, Garak groaning his pleasure as Julian’s knees drop out wider around him.
It’s Garak’s turn to be still now as Julian slowly rocks his cock to Garak’s chest a naughty, dirty slide, slicking his chest with a wash of bodily fluids as Julian’s throat closes, clutches, lips finally resting at the base with a groan stilted from a clear inability to breath. Guls yes, like that, harder, deeper, you know how I like it, Julian. Julian does, that memory forgetting nothing and Garak doesn’t know how it all fits, in Julian’s mouth, Julian’s tight little ass slowly bobbing with that effort and just the thought of that mouth obscenely stretched, cheeks puffed then sucked in, spit slicking up and down from that effort makes hims nearly close his eyes and gain some primitive belief in a higher deity.
“Yes, like that,” he pants out the encouraging whisper knowing that Julian will hear every word no matter how softly gasped beneath his breath. “I know you like that,” Garak giving another lick, another circle stab inside, flicking his tongue around feeling Julian’s stretched hole desperate to clench back around his tongue. And prick secure in his throat, Julian’s hand moves from Garak’s cock to his thigh, his knee, seeking some purchase as his head bobs faster to match that motion. He finally settles on making use of those long fingers grabbing Garak’s hips, greedily sucking him in faster, every bit of air sucked out, the vacuum of his mouth like fucking into the tightest warmest celestial body in the Alpha Quadrant. A long deep suck, a collapsing star, a black hole of hot pleasure around his shaft, moving back up again slowly until that last stretching siphon draws more faint drops of precome from the tip of his cock.
“Yess...” Julian’s mouth releases, catches again, sucks hard, tongue swirling around the hard, flared ridges, drawing that sensitivity back to a hiss from Garak as those lips mouth “Master” again to a sympathetic leak of his cock once more.
Garak distantly hopes that somewhere someone outside is seeing to the very real question of the demise of the entire station. Because it certainly isn’t Garak. No, Garak barely has the presence of mind to move his mouth from Julian’s quivering hole and whisper,
“You love that... don’t you, my dear?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, for the fast pass of lips forming “always” as they move back up once more. Garak’s tongue is quickly down to Julian’s sack, soft, temping thing that it is. So fascinating that yet an even more vulnerable portion of the human anatomy is left to hang so precariously outside the body. Impractical but terribly convenient right now, Garak’s tongue finding plenty of surface to lick, to lap, feeling the immediate drawing up, feeling Julian’s stiff muscles, slim thighs tremor against him. “You love tasting yourself on me,” Garak whispers knowing it to be true just as he loves tasting himself in Julian.
“Please...” is the pitiful answer, and Garak feels the tension of Julian’s body, feels his head move back off his prick letting go, breaths heaving, nails digging into the tops of his thighs and he feels Julian’s forehead pressed to his hip breaths coming harder and sharper. “Please... master,” he begs again that ‘Master” substituting for “Alpha” and though he knows the meaning of both to be the same, the thought that Julian has chosen to use that word that he knows, to recognize that lovely possession makes him feel another surge of heat through his entire body. No, not entirely at that, but at the thought of Julian coming from just this little bit of stimulation from Garak’s hand and his mouth just like this. This being the position lockingthem together like two sybaritic snakes, like some decadent uroboros as Julian once described locked mouth to cock for an eternity.
Garak wants so badly to finish in Julian’s mouth. He wants to shoot deep into his throat, he wants to come so much that cavity cannot possible contain it and it chokes out around those lips, so full of it that Julian-
“Put it back in your mouth Julian,” Garak says proud of his ability to still speak in some stuttered form of a complete sentence, not waiting for an answer as he fucks fingers back into Julian’s hole making that task that much harder. And that’s not the only thing so much harder, is it? Julian’s cock drags, hips press to Garak’s chest, the the sensitive dip of his collarbone, that flash of heat flashing heavy in his own sac, tight between his legs, inside his body, swollen so grand he almost thinks it could drop out like a human’s for lack of space to contain its volume. Guls, if one could bottle and sell that pheromone, that essence that Julian’s body bathes his fingers in they’d have a fortune to rival the entire planet of Ferenginar.
“Back in your mouth,” Garak repeats, Julian’s beautiful altered body having completely regained that exquisite tightness around his questing fingers makes him have to push harder to force them deeper, Julian’s cock spilling precome so copiously onto his chest Garak could swear that he was already coming. Garak’s left hand snakes around to palm it, to press that broad palm to the head, feeling delicate skin sliding back and forth over that salty damp glans. That skin, a poor substitute for a properly sheathed and protected organ in Garak’s opinion is good and sensitive, and Garak feels the response of insistent fast sucks to his own glans in response to that command. Each “yes” suck, “master” slurp, brings him closer and closer until his hips are pressing up to meet Julian’s damn teasing mouth, not going fully down but some lift programmed halfway there to drive him halfway out of his mind.
Julian’s body rocks back towards his face and Garak draws his sack slowly, carefully into his mouth, mindful of such a sensitive little bit hears “Ah...” half sobbing to simple syllables, a series of sweet half swallowed “M-m-...” unable to finish more than that first morpheme morphing to moans bordering on pain. And yet Julian far from telling him to stop only pushes back more desperately, raising shaky shoulders back up, a flick of sweat spattering Garak’s thighs as Julian tosses his head with a moan sounded bitten out between a bitten lip and Garak pictures him biting it bloody... Guls does he ever want to taste the blood spilling between Julian’s mouth into his own and- and he doesn’t recall Julian ever doing that but there is really no other expression to properly sum Julian’s mouth right now save for fuck. yes.
Like some raquetball sex match being played, Julian fires off a shot, stopping, regrouping a parry to Garak’s deep fingering drill right to that little nub which always makes Julian shoot off extra hard. But it’s then in that moment where Garak really believes his lover, his Omega, his sex addicted slave to be the one unable to complete more than just throat clutching moans that Julian surprises him. He locks his head to that absolute angle, hands to Garak’s thighs, lifting himself back off, down, another slow drag, more teeth the more Garak gasps and pants, snapping his hips up hard and quick as Julian’s hot mouth moans around him. He feels that augmented strength aided by gravity holding him still, holding him down as Julian’s head moves, hyper quick, up down, deeper, face practically slamming a hard sloppy bob up suck, Fuck human fuck he can’t-
“Nnnnggh.... hnn... hnnn...”coming from either of them or both, he has no damn clue held helplessly still while Julian’s own body flies out of control, back and forth between Garak’s fingers, his hand, mouth, every lustful part of Garak grabbing soft skin, jerking in earnest, squeezing pressure taking the place of faltering friction slicked to a smooth glide almost tempted to stop, to let himself go outside Julian’s mouth, his more lurid imagining imagining some licentiously mad daydream of every inch of Julian bathed in it like some living suit of seed. But Julian swallows him deeper, ass swallowing fingers, beckoning him to pull out, to replace digits with his prick and so help him if he dies today he’s going to come in that ass again.
He might die, might already be dead, Julian’s throat working, surely sore, surely stretched long and far beyond its natural capacity but he only holds it there. Garak feels the arch, the bow of his back, both ways as if his body isn’t sure where to go and he can feel Julian’s sac draw tighter, tighter until he’s sure that Julian in some magnificent defiance of precedent is spilling into his hand, a soft cry like he can’t even believe it himself. He feels more than hears that desperate hitch, feels the curl of Julian’s nails digging into him, scratching rents over muscle and without those hands purposefully holding him down, he’s free to thrust up, to let go, to cover his own face with his hands, Julian’s scent swirling around him as he shuts his eyes and experiences weightlessness. He’s certain that half of whatever intangible spirit he may possess leaves him, his head going back, mouth incapable of sound in the moment that Julian swallows, swallows, tongue swirling around every last spasming drop pulled out of him.
Garak forgets breaths for all of perhaps three of them gasping “Guls”, gasping human curses, realizing that Julian’s weight is gone, only then opening his eyes to wonder what oxygen deprived dreamland has awoken around him. But it isn’t some illusory scene that meets his eyes- or perhaps it is, he reasons considering yet again the unusual situation- but rather Julian turned around, crawling back up his body, mouth closed, face dark and ruddy, short hair as messed as it’s ever been. Garak lifts his head to look better and Julian doesn’t blink, or at least he doesn’t seem to. It strikes Garak oddly for the first time what a fool he’s been to think that he’ll ever be okay losing this. Oh there’s some disappointment at the loss of regular sex, of regular incredible three, four day raw coital marathons with a nubile young body incapable of saying no but with a bit more diligence and talks with Quark that could be replaced.
No, it’s this, this new shift to whatever causes Julian to look at him without the mindless drive of a man better termed as a creature in the throes of primitive lust, but as just that man. As Julian, with long fingers cupping the side of his face, straddling him playfully, a hint of some mischief glinting his his eyes as he sits back, not showing that usual glassy hint of unawareness, of otherness. Garak sits up to follow feeling an ache in his tailbone that he hadn’t noticed before. Julian still says nothing but sits back just a bit more on Garak’s thighs, solicitous of his prick, only half hard, half retracted back. There’s usually that time, that period of lucidity following their joining, but Julian seemed lucid ever since Dukat left and if that was some sort of odd catalyst Garak perhaps might have to grudgingly thank him... By ejecting him out the airlock, he thinks murderously, half cursing himself as well for allowing such unimaginative trash to ever lay hands on his Julian.
His Julian who’s leaned in with a tilt of his head that Garak cannot resist as their lips brush. That brush turns quickly to a hard press, Julian’s mouth open, not with a flood of tongue, but a river of Garak’s seed passing between them making him groan, nearly making his cock flare violently back to life at that taste, that nerve, hands circling Julian’s back, crushing them closer together, swapping that taste, letting it mingle with his own saliva, with Julian’s, some messy pooling between them both, gasping swallows switching, tongues tasting each other like it’s the first time and Garak bites Julian’s lip, draws it hard, Julian biting back harder, fingers running over the ridges of Garak’s spine making him shiver.
“Have I given you everything, Garak... Master?” Julian hushes against his mouth and it’s such a cruel thing to have been denied him until now that his mouth moves to Julian’s neck, nipping hard, pulling blood to the surface, nearly breaking skin until Julian’s nails respond in kind not nearly as delicate, deceptively sharp for such tidy doctor nails.
He may be bleeding, that sensitive skin drawing a fast endorphin rush following pain and he thinks of the Institute and those training sessions with the pain stick, with the other more crude devices so that one could develop a feel for every nuance of torture. Those pale in comparison to the sinewy twist of Julian’s body on his lap, head tipped back so far with a throat purr that the very long, very salty smooth column may be allowing his head to go back back and suddenly those human vampire legends seem to blossom with new appeal for the taste of warm blood from a delicate waiting human neck. For all he knows, the Bajorans may already have their odd tales of their Cardassian occupiers and as he bites, as he sucks, as he licks the reddened wound, he supposes there may be some truth to a few of those after all should they exist.
I don’t believe there can ever truly be everything, my dear, as I’m afraid I won’t ever have enough of you. Naturally he’d sooner repeat this performance on stage for the entirety of the station than say such an appalling admission out loud so he merely murmurs that it remains to be seen, thankful again for Julian’s enhanced hearing. In response, Julian’s head comes back up, hands dancing back up to his shoulders, a push away, or rather not entirely, but just enough distance between them that Julian can press their foreheads together. Garak doesn’t imagine that he understands the significance, the sensation, the way in which heat blossoms all the way down to his toes when that sensitive dip meets hot skin. It burns hotter, almost feverish, sensing Julian’s pulse beating so fast that it makes Garak himself breathless to match. Their eyes are closed, faces so close it wouldn’t matter if they weren’t but all the same there’s an expression that he can see in Julian’s tone alone as he speaks softly, another shift, slightly painful pressure to his groin that he steadfastly ignores.
“Do you... do you want to put it in me again?” Julian asks almost strangely shy, uncertain, as if there were anything else in the universe that Garak should desire more. There’s a twitch of his prick in response, having already retracted further back and that hurts so terribly as much as he desperately wishes to answer in the affirmative. There’s a certain charm to Julian’s inability to voice such base desires when not in the deepest throes of that heat, another hint that it is Julian asking and so help him he wants to but-
“Always” slips from between his traitorous lips before he can call it back and he wonders how in the name of every dead Hebetian he’s ever going to pull that one off.
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I, Garak