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The floor was cold against Quark’s back. The air was stale, stiff with purifiers set to food storage atmosphere. That is, chilly and dry. Compared to this, Brunt’s hands burned against his skin. Not unpleasantly. Not painfully. These hands grasped and massaged Quark’s shoulders and chest. They expertly caressed his face and then Brunt’s lips were pressing kisses over his nose, moving to his cheeks before finally resting on his mouth. Quark’s hand tightened around Brunt’s shirt, pulling him closer. He was warm. Quark was cold. Brunt probably didn’t want to be reminded of this fact so he didn’t make a point of it.
“When are we gonna get this over with?” Quark asked, lightly shoving Brunt away to glare in his face.
Something like disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but was gone the instant he spoke, “I’m just making sure I get everything I paid for.”
“You paid for a lot more than just kissing,” Quark said pointedly.
“Exactly.” Brunt lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. “That means you don’t get to order me around, Quark.”
Quark growled from deep in his throat. He decided to go for a different method of attack. Attack? During sex? Of course. It’s Brunt.
His hands were at Brunt’s lobes. Brunt groaned in pleasure and had to fight to keep from collapsing onto Quark.
“Who’s in charge of who?” Quark teased.
Brunt began to answer, but Quark’s thumbs strayed further inward and Brunt could do nothing but moan and squirm against him. Quark’s hands nearly enveloped Brunt’s delicate ears. If this was anyone but Brunt, Quark would have called it adorable. Because it was adorable. It was. On anyone but Brunt, of course.
Brunt came to his senses and pulled one of Quark’s hands away, the grip on his wrist much less forceful than expected. “Sit up,” he ordered.
As Quark complied, Brunt’s hands worked at the buttons of Quark’s pants. Quark was reminded sharply of the cold floor as it pressed against his bare skin, but before he was able to even comprehend it, Brunt’s hands were back on him, working at his thighs and lower back. The warmth wrapped around him, through his skin, and the cold was ignored.
Quark was hard already. It wasn’t because of Brunt, of course. He was just impatient, nothing more. Brunt studied his cock, sizing him up. He knew where the most sensitive spots were. His fingers played at the base and Quark lifted his hips eagerly.
“Get on with it,” he said. Brunt smiled at him. His fangs stuck out from his lips and Quark did not think it was cute. Not in the least. His tongue darted out and he was licking at Quark’s slit in quick, deliberate movements that drew out an embarrassing moan. His hand wrapped around the shaft, thumb stroking semi-circles up it’s length. His tongue moved up to the tip in one swift motion and before Quark knew it he was squirming helplessly at the mercy of Brunt’s mouth.
“Fuck! Slow down, I can’t—!” Quark whined. Brunt did not slow down, and instead chuckled playfully around Quark’s dick. The sound was so overwhelming, Quark cursed him under his breath. Brunt’s arms were beneath his legs, then around his thighs, propping him up to bring his groin closer for better access. Quark couldn’t stop himself from obliging him, canting his hips just right for Brunt to swirl his tongue around the base, which he did enthusiastically.
Quark hated that he came so fast. He hated that he came shouting Brunt’s name. He hated that he grabbed Brunt’s sleeve for support while Brunt drained him for all he was worth. But oh, it felt so damned good. An orgasm that he could lose himself in, and the only one there to lead him back out of it was Brunt. He opened his eyes to see Brunt wiping his lips with the back of his hand. A little had gotten on his fingers and he popped them into his mouth, licking them clean. Quark’s heart nearly stopped. Brunt was beautiful like this. He would sooner snap his own neck than say that out loud.
“Good job,” Brunt acknowledged, rising from the floor, leaving Quark to feel the cold again. He straightened his coat and made as if to leave, “You’d better get back to your bar.”
“W- woah, wait a minute!” Quark pushed himself up and struggled to get his pants back on, “Is that it?”
“What do you expect?” Brunt asked as if he had no idea what Quark was implying, “Do you want me to applaud? Give you a biscuit?”
“You gave me ten bars of latinum, Brunt,” he reminded, “Are you telling me that’s all you wanted?”
Why was he doing this? This was one of those precious moments where Brunt hadn’t even taken anything, he should be savoring this. But something about the whole thing didn’t sit right.
“Are you implying I should have given you less?” Brunt retorted.
“Are you saying you gave me ten bars just to make me cum and then leave?” Quark asked, closing the distance between them. “That's practically throwing your money away.”
“I can afford to throw my money away,” Brunt said. “...Why do you care?”
Quark’s hands were on his shoulders. Why were they there? His eyes locked with Brunt’s and he said “I’m just making sure you get everything you paid for, Brunt.”
Brunt paused. He seemed to consider the whole thing, but it only took one coaxing nod of Quark’s head to convince him. Then his warmth was back, wrapping Quark in familiar comfort that was much too good to last and almost too good to enjoy.
They were on the floor once more. This time, Quark was on top of Brunt, trailing kisses from his jaw down to his collarbone, revealed with a tug on his undershirt. Quark might have stopped there, but something urged him to continue. It was likely the fact that he was already hard again, but he wanted to see all of Brunt, stripped and exposed. It wasn’t easy getting through all the layers of clothes, but after much effort he was able to bury his face in the heat of bare skin, and this was getting much too intimate for the both of them.
Brunt hesitantly worked his own pants off and sat up, waiting for what Quark would do. “The—“ he said awkwardly, “The treatments aren’t working as quickly as they should be.”
Did he expect Quark to be disappointed? The much smaller member between Brunt’s legs wasn’t unfamiliar to him by any means, and it certainly wasn’t disappointing for what he had. It was bigger now, perhaps. It felt different to his touch - which Brunt gasped and wriggled closer at. He was already practically dripping with anticipation. Quark grinned.
“Whatever,” Quark excused the concern with a shrug and another stroke of his fingers, “not like I haven’t worked with this before.”
Brunt huffed. His hands were wrapped around Quark’s waist. They trembled. Quark knew that if he could save this moment forever he would. If only to embarrass Brunt later. Bring it up at some international event. Oh, he would hate that.
“You were the one that wanted to fuck me this time,” Brunt said, “The least you could do is get—!”
His words cut off the moment Quark shoved himself inside. Quark chuckled to himself and asked “What were you saying?”
“I… I hate you,” Brunt whimpered against Quark’s ear.
“I know,” Quark whispered back, bucking sharply against Brunt, who moaned again and threw an arm behind him to prop himself up. Quark nuzzled his shoulder and breathed in. Warm. Like a sunbeam on his face. A crack in the clouds, light in the shadows.
What was he thinking?
He was thinking about Brunt. He couldn’t stop himself. Something about Brunt letting him fuck him perhaps, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Having him here, and so vulnerable. Quark could hurt him easily. He could make him suffer.
He wouldn’t.
Quark reached upward, his hands leaving Brunt’s sides to curl around his lobes again. Bless him, the sounds he made were like messages from the divine treasury. They were shameful really, short squeaks and gasps that would have sounded terrible to anyone but Quark. He hated them. He adored them. He wanted to force him to make more.
They were making love.
And Brunt wasn’t stopping him.
Brunt’s moans gradually peaked before they were cut off by Quark’s mouth on his. Kissing away his feelings was the last resort Quark had. Brunt lost control of himself in the throes of orgasm and his hands clung spasmodically to Quark’s shirt, pulling him closer, squeezing the fabric tighter at every thrust. Quark felt a beat of triumph once again, and then he was arching his back and crying out around Brunt’s lips, breathless and so, so in love.
Quark rose and quickly replaced his pants again. He would deal with the mess later. Right now he had a bigger mess to deal with, and he would start cleaning that one immediately.
“Well, now all debts are paid. You’re done here,” he said casually.
“Yes,” Brunt agreed, struggling with the buttons on his vest, “For the time being, that is.”
Quark reached down and finished fastening the buttons himself before he knew what he was doing. “Oh, yeah, sure. You pay me for sex more often and I can sell the bar and retire.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Brunt scowled and batted Quark’s hands away after he finished the last button. Quark held his hands up in mock defense and ushered him to the door.
“Have a nice day!” Quark called, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
“After this encounter, I won’t!” Brunt returned with a laugh just before the storage room door slid shut behind him, leaving Quark to stare at the space where he had been.
The room was suddenly very, very cold.