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"Hmm. I don't know, Garak." Dr. Julian Bashir stepped out of the dressing room in Garak's Clothiers, while the titular tailor fussed with a mannequin in the corner. "The length is perfect, but I don't think they're meant to hang like this."
Garak smoothed a hand over the mannequin's tunic and turned to look at him, gaze appraising.
"Ah - yes, I see what you mean." He frowned a little, striding over to Julian and looking him up and down. "When was the last time I took your measurements?"
Julian pretended to consider this. "You know, Garak - I'm not certain you ever did ."
"Ah! Well, that explains it." A placid, customer service smile. "No better time than the present, I suppose." He reached into a drawer of his work table and pulled out an old fashioned tailor's tape.
Julian, for his part, glanced at the door to the shop, thinking about how it could slide open at any moment. But acknowledging that meant acknowledging this was anything other than a plain, simple tailor's appointment.
"Should I…" Julian glanced at the step riser behind him.
A single nod. "If you like."
He didn't like, particularly - standing up there made him feel as though he were on display, which was not typically an unpleasant sensation, but here? When everything already felt so off-kilter?
He stepped up onto the dais. Garak walked around behind him. "Face me, please."
Julian turned his back to the door.
"I would've thought…" he chuckled a little as Garak unwound his measuring tape. "I'm sure they have some kind of laser sight measurement program that does all this. Like what the replicators use, but more advanced, naturally -"
Garak clicked his tongue. "Such things exist, but I prefer a more personal touch."
Julian nodded, swallowing past the tightening in his throat. "I thought you might." His voice sounded husky in his own ears. Get it together, Bashir.
"Take off your jacket, please," the tailor said, with an air of studied indifference. Julian shucked it off quickly and handed it over, watching Garak as he laid it carefully on his worktable.
The end of the tape was touched to his shoulder, running down the length of his arm. Then Garak walked around to the back and measured the breadth of his shoulders, before returning to the front.
"Lift your arms?"
Julian did. Garak leaned in and snatched the other end of the tape behind his back, so close for a moment that their bodies almost touched, almost an embrace - but then he stepped back, encircling his chest with the tape, just below the nipples. Very professional - very proper. It made him think of that bit in Le Carre's The Tailor of Panama where Osnard talked about how he avoided the nipples with young bachelors when taking their measurements. Too sensitive (the implication being, he supposed, that older or married men had grown accustomed enough to having their nipples touched that they wouldn't pop an awkward hard-on in the middle of a measuring session.)
At the next touch of Garak's hand on his waist, he jumped.
"Sorry!" He cleared his throat as Garak drew the tape together in a circle again, this time just above his hips. "A bit ticklish there. I should've warned you."
A bland smile. "Have you never had your measurements taken before, Doctor?"
Julian exhaled slowly, keeping still this time as Garak tightened the tape around him again, just at the fleshiest part of his ass - such as it was. Garak's fingers met just in front of his groin, not quite touching. "Not by you," he said.
"That's not what I asked," Garak murmured, his face inches from Julian's hip. Up on the dais, Julian was about half a foot taller than him - not enough to really make it easier to take these lower measurements, just enough so that Garak had to crouch awkwardly to do it. Julian didn't understand the point of it, but he supposed they must have been invented for a reason.
"Why? Do you prefer your customers to be inexperienced?" Julian smirked, trying to gain a smidgen of the upper hand.
"I have no preference," Garak replied, releasing the tape and drawing it down the outer edge of his leg. "It was simple curiosity, Doctor."
" Professional curiosity, I assume."
"Naturally." Garak crouched back on his heels. "Spread your legs, please."
Julian widened his stance. "Did you do much tailoring on Cardassia?"
Garak made a noncommittal hum, straightening up slightly. "It's quite different, working in Federation space. All sorts of anatomical concerns I never would have had to deal with back home. Speaking of which, you dress to the left, do you?"
"Um - yes." Julian huffed out a little laugh. "I don't think it's sizable enough to make a difference to the fit."
"That's not the purpose of the question." Garak was clearly biting back a smile. "It's only to avoid any - awkwardness in the measuring of the inseam."
"Oh!" Julian felt his ears grow hot. "Of course. I don't know why I thought -"
"Most people are misinformed," Garak said, smoothly. "As you see, though -" Here, he pressed the end of the tape into Julian's inner thigh, on the right side. "This neatly avoids any impropriety."
"Of course," said Julian, feeling absurdly disappointed. "I see."
"In my experience, roughly seven in ten people with - external parts naturally hang to the left. Even Klingons tend to favor one side over the other, interestingly enough."
Julian had noticed the same, both in a personal and professional capacity, but it didn't seem like the time to mention it. "Ah - so it was a lucky guess."
"It was."
"I suppose it wouldn't be very professional of you to just… stare until you figured it out."
Garak chuckled. "Not very professional , no." Tape now set aside, he smoothed a hand down the front of Julian's thigh, pinching a bit of the fabric as he went. "Now, do you think it would violate the uniform standards if I took in a little just here ?"
Julian nodded, then shook his head. "I mean - no, I think you could. Yes."
"And here?" The hand darted behind and cinched some of the fabric just below his left buttock, and he suppressed a shiver, suddenly very thankful that his augmentations made it possible for him to control his body's reactions to stimuli.
"I - I'm not certain about that," he admitted.
"Shame. The lack of pockets - while possibly impractical, opens up all sorts of possibilities in tailoring." Garak released the fabric and sat back again, looking up at him thoughtfully.
"Is - is that so?" Julian's ears were growing hotter under the impassive gaze, because he knew - or thought he knew - what lay just behind it.
"Mmm. With pockets, unless they're purely decorative, one cuts more generously to make room for the hands. But without - the seat of the pants can be considerably more fitted."
"Ah - it's just as well. I don't think tightly fitted clothes suit me."
"Not tightly . But everyone looks better in clothes that fit." Garak gently tugged at the cuff of the pants, like he was trying to coax them to hang better. "Of course, your comfort is paramount."
"I trust your judgment," Julian said. "Well, maybe not when it comes to Starfleet uniform code."
"I'd like to show you something different," Garak said. "Civilian clothes, if you're amenable."
"Yes - of course. Yes."
"As far as I can determine, you're seldom out of uniform," Garak said, standing up gracefully and going to retrieve something hanging near one of the fitting rooms. "Is it a matter of convenience?"
"Mostly. And laziness, I think. Uniforms are easy. It's what everyone expects to see me in. I'm used to them."
"You would prefer to blend in. One of the many interchangeable Starfleet drones." Garak shot him a sly smile.
"Well, that's a bit difficult no matter what I wear, being the CMO."
"As the only Cardassian living on the station, I do sympathize. But we must accept our fate, I'm afraid." Garak returned to him with a few articles draped over his arm. "Here - try this."
Julian pondered this statement as he retreated to the dressing room and pulled the curtain closed. If they could be assured of privacy, he would have left it halfway open just to see Garak's reaction.
The shirt was a midnight blue, with the same asymmetrical neckline as a few other shirts he'd bought off the rack at Garak's before, always with the promise he'd come back and have them fitted properly, but of course he never did. This one fit better from the jump, but it had the same odd combination of being both fitted at the waist and quite short, meaning he could hardly raise his arms to shoulder level without exposing his midriff.
"Is this a Cardassian style?" he called out to Garak.
"What makes you ask?"
Julian rolled his eyes in the mirror. "Well, I've never run across anyone else who makes shirts like this. But it seems a little incongruous, if it is Cardassian."
"How so?"
Julian stepped into the trousers. The material was silky smooth and they fit like a dream. His legs looked slender as they were, but not too knobbly or spindly as he often found to be the case with fitted trousers.
"Well, let's see. It's got bright colors, it exposes my collarbone, and it's not made of upholstery fabric. So, no - it can't be Cardassian. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Has it occurred to you that you simply haven't met the sorts of Cardassians who - oh, hello."
The change in tone was inspired by Julian yanking the curtain open and stepping back out, nearly colliding with Garak, who for some reason was standing just a few feet in front of the entrance.
For a breathless moment, they just stared at each other.
"I think it suits you," Garak said.
" Gar ak," Julian chided, watching the bright blue eyes flicker with something unnameable. "You haven't even looked at my clothes."
"They're not your clothes, Doctor. Not until you pay." Garak wagged an admonishing finger. He glanced down at what little of Julian's body he could see in the scant space between them. "I stand by my assessment."
"You would ," Julian grumbled. "But the pants - show me what you mean, about taking them in at the seat."
"Hmm?" Garak's eyes flickered again, and this time Julian thought he could understand what it meant.
"No pockets," he said. "So you don't need to leave any extra space."
Garak swallowed, hard enough that Julian could see the frantic bobbing of his laryngeal prominence. "By all means, Doctor." He stepped back, gesturing to the dais. This time Julian felt a little more at home, stepping onto the little stage.
"So what sorts of Cardassians would wear this, then?" he asked, watching Garak try and fail to keep his roving gaze strictly professional. (That wasn't just wishful thinking, was it?)
"Hmm?" Garak's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "I never said it was a Cardassian style. You only assumed, as you are wont to do."
"You strongly implied it."
"It was merely a suggestion. A thought exercise." Garak was picking up - a handful of pins?
"You're not putting those anywhere near my arse," Julian said, mildly alarmed.
Garak smiled that bland smile again. "It's quite necessary, I'm afraid. No fear - I'll assist you in undressing so you don't hurt yourself."
"Just one of many services you offer, I'm sure," Julian muttered. "No pins. That's final. I know there's got to be a more elegant way to do it. Use my measurements! You did write them down, didn't you?"
Garak tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "No need. But measurements only tell part of the story."
"Use - something with a laser. I don't know. Pins can't be the pinnacle of tailoring technology in the fucking twenty-fourth century."
Garak's smile twitched into something a little more genuine. "If I didn't know better, Doctor, I'd almost think you were afraid of a humble sewing tool."
Julian huffed in irritation. "I'm not afraid . Look." He lifted his arms up, feeling the bottom hem of the shirt ride up. "You're telling me there are Cardassians who dress like this ?"
"Fine, Doctor. No pins." Garak closed the distance between them and bent down to pinch some of the material at Julian's hip. "I think I can take in a little here. But I'll have to eyeball it of course -"
"It's just that if you're dressing me like a Lakarian sex worker, I'd like to know."
Garak's eyes snapped up to his face.
"You'd like to know , would you?" He was smiling, eyes narrowed. Not predatory exactly, but perhaps a distant cousin to it.
"Well," Julian exhaled. "It would be the polite thing. So I could at least play the part."
Garak's fingers rested on the back of his thigh now. Still just barely within the bounds of professionalism.
Come on. Give me something.
Just then, the doors to the shop slid open.
Two footsteps, and then Julian heard Jadzia say:
"Oh - sorry, Garak. I'll come back later."
"No need to apologize, Lieutenant." Garak put on his customer service smile again, but he didn't drop his hand from Julian's leg. "How can I help you?"
"You're clearly busy." The delighted smile was in her voice - Julian didn't have to turn around to know it was there.
"It's only a spur of the moment fitting. Dr. Bashir didn't bother to make an appointment."
"Oh - don't cut it short on my account. I know how long you've been trying to get Julian in here for a fitting ."
And with that, she was gone. A quiet whoosh as the doors shut.
Julian felt a hysterical giggle bubbling up in his chest. "Been talking to Lt. Dax, have you?"
Garak still hadn't withdrawn his hand. "She insisted on purchasing me a drink last night. Something about expressing gratitude for my…minor role in yesterday's kerfuffle."
"I'm only sorry I couldn't join you," Julian said. "I was busy in the infirmary - I'm sure Jadzia told you."
"She mentioned something about it. Emergency surgery, I think she said."
Julian nodded. "I was with patients all night - mostly injuries from throughout the day, but the last one was just an appendectomy probably triggered by all the stress - routine enough, but it could've gotten ugly fast if we didn't intervene."
"We would have enjoyed your company, I'm sure. But I did find it interesting, talking to Lt. Dax."
"Certainly sounds like it. You know, I haven't thanked you properly yet - your quick thinking bought us the time we needed to save the station."
"It was a purely selfish endeavor, I assure you."
"Well - I'm glad you were there, at any rate. I've never seen Gul Dukat look so flustered."
Garak chuckled. "I am grateful someone shares my enjoyment in that regard, as well."
"I think everyone does. Kira especially - although she might not say it to your face."
The maddeningly light touch of Garak's fingers was going to drive him to distraction.
"I've heard some tailors can take accurate measurements without a tape," Julian said. "Just using their hands."
Garak hummed noncommittally. He pinched a little more of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, drawing it taut against Julian's groin. "No, perhaps not," he said, seemingly more to himself than to Julian. "Unless you intend on spinning Dabo wheels in your spare time."
Julian sighed sharply. "So you admit it."
"Admit what ?"
"You're trying to tart me up." He resisted the mad urge to cant his hips in Garak's face.
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me. And don't give me that 'translator malfunction' bullshit. I know you speak Standard."
"You seem rather fixated on this idea," Garak replied, letting the fabric go and smoothing his hand down the back of Julian's thigh, very lightly.
"Can you blame me?" He let his voice drop, and some of his rigid control over his body's reactions slipped. Garak inhaled sharply and Julian wondered if it was true that Cardassians could smell humanoid pheromones acutely.
"Doctor -"
"Julian," he corrected.
Garak looked up at him. "If it's all the same to you, Doctor -"
"Garak -"
"Whatever you're doing -"
"I should think that was obvious by now," Julian cut in. At the end of his patience, he reached behind him and grabbed Garak's errant hand, pushing it slightly higher and pressing it flat against his ass. "Getting my measurements taken."
For one pulse-pounding moment he thought Garak would pull away, but then the tailor said something in that beautiful sibilant language of his, and though he didn't know the meaning of the words, Julian heard the soft click of the door locks engaging.
Suddenly acutely aware of the awkward positioning, he stepped down from the dais, one foot at a time, and Garak's hand slid up his lower back, dislodging the shirt.
"Garak…" he murmured, so close to his friend's face that their noses were almost bumping together. "Tell me I'm not - presuming too much."
" Presuming too much?" Garak's voice was high with incredulity.
"You do - I mean, do you want this?"
" What ?"
"Garak, come on!" He wanted to shout in frustration, but he breathed through it. "Me. I'm asking if you want - me ."
"My dear doctor -"
"Sexually," he amended, realizing he might do well to eliminate all possibilities of being misunderstood.
"I..." Garak's hand still clutched at his back. "Julian - why ?"
"Why?" Julian snorted, feeling more than a little unhinged. "Why what ?"
"Why now ?"
They were breathing the same air. "Because my pants were ready to be picked up." He pulled back just enough so Garak could see his cheeky smile. "Or was that not the invitation I took it for?"
"It was a professional courtesy," Garak sniffed, sliding his hand back down a little, until his fingertips just barely slipped under the waistband of Julian's trousers. "If you wanted to thank me, I'd accept a drink at Quark's. There's no need for all these theatrics."
Julian let out a breathless sound that was half-laugh, half-groan, letting his own hand mirror Garak's, resting on the small of his back and sliding up, though his thick tunic ensured he couldn't feel much. "I'm not doing this out of gratitude , Garak. For fuck's sake."
"No?"
" No ." A thought occurred to him. "Wait - Odo's got surveillance in here -" He stepped back quickly, too quickly, tripping over the dais and losing his balance entirely as he tumbled backwards over it (augmentations or no augmentations, there was a point where gravity simply took over). "Shit - I'm sorry."
He thrashed for a moment, trying to regain his footing while his legs were still draped over the dais and the edge of a boot was snagged on the rubberized siding of the stupid little stage.
"My dear doctor -" Garak wasn't laughing, but his eyes were. That was a relief. With a graceful movement, he lifted both of Julian's legs off of the dais and deposited them safely on the floor before offering him a hand up.
" God , that was stupid. I'm sorry." Julian was aware that he was babbling. "I know you don't - I know you can't - well obviously you're being watched, I've known that for months now, he knew my tea order for fuck's sake, clearly it's not safe for us to - for me to -"
"Doctor, please . Calm yourself."
Julian took a deep breath. He was standing now, just inches from Garak, who was still holding this hand.
"I'm sorry," he said again, swallowing dryly, hearing the clicking noise in his throat.
"You've done nothing wrong, Doctor." Garak hesitated, glanced over his shoulder, and sighed a little. "Julian," he amended.
"Right," he chuckled. "I suppose you can just - tell them you're trying to pump me for information."
That earned him a small huff of laughter, which he considered a win.
"It's not my reputation that concerns me, Julian."
It took him a moment to process this. "Oh - oh! No, I don't think -" He rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, thinking back to his conversation with Captain Sisko during the whole Tahna Los affair. "I don't think it's going to be an issue. Not with the local leadership, anyway."
Garak seemed to take a moment to consider this. "And socially?"
"Socially?" Julian repeated. "I don't know - aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?"
Instantly, Garak's demeanor seemed to correct itself. He let go of Julian's hand and took a half-step back, tilting his head slightly forward in a solicitous nod. "Of course," he said, flatly.
Nothing had really changed that much, but Julian was left with the unmistakable sense that something delicate had shattered at his feet. On impulse, he closed the distance and reached for Garak's face, just to cup his cheek, he told himself - just to rest his thumb in the valley between those aural ridges and see if it fit as well as his brain told him it would.
Garak jerked his head up, startled. But he didn't pull away. As the warmth of Julian's skin seeped in, he seemed to let his eyes flutter closed for a moment - just a moment too long to be a blink.
"Now, I didn't mean it like that ," Julian murmured, giving in to the impulse to move his thumb slightly, to stroke , just a little. Standing this close, he could hear a sort of cartilaginous rumble from somewhere in the base of Garak's throat. "I know how you value your privacy, is all. That's why I panicked just now. If you don't mind, then I certainly don't."
"I don't -" Garak's voice was rough. He paused and cleared his throat delicately. "I don't mind. No."
"Well, then. As long as we're on the same page…" Please let us be on the same page .
Julian took a moment to survey their surroundings. Of course he'd fantasized about this exact scenario, he'd be mad not to, and even Odo wouldn't have cameras in the fitting rooms, but -
"I want this," Julian said, leaning in so close his lips almost brushed against the teardrop scale on Garak's forehead. "But I don't want to rush. I want to be comfortable. Take my time with you."
It was Garak who finally tilted his head to close the distance, and the little gasp he couldn't quite suppress when Julian's lips finally made contact was enough to make the doctor's chest ache.
Oh, he was in trouble. This was no fitting room fling.
But of course he'd known that for a long time, hadn't he? Wasn't that why he'd taken so long to do this?
"I may be able to carve out a space in my schedule tonight," Garak exhaled.
"Mmm. I could make time." Julian pressed his lips now against the little concave center with intention, and Garak shivered in his arms. "I'll host."
"Will you, now?"
"Mmhm." Julian pulled back, grinning. "Bigger bed."
Garak's ridges were flushed a sort of dusky blue-black, and his lips were ever so slightly parted. Julian thought he looked rather devastating.
"If you insist," Garak muttered, a little peevish.
"I insist," Julian said. "Twenty-one hundred - don't be late."
At 20:05, there was a frantic chime at Julian's door. He knew it wouldn't be Garak, not this early, but who wouldn't just comm first?
" Nog ?" Julian blinked down at the breathless Ferengi.
"Special delivery!" the boy shouted, shoving a small package into Julian's hands and racing back down the corridor out of sight.
Julian recognized the wrapping immediately. Plain white paper, wrapped up with the sparkliest, most ostentatious ribbon imaginable. He smiled as he tugged the bow open.
Ah, so Garak could work quickly when he was properly motivated. That nicely solved the question of what he was going to wear tonight.
Julian shrugged off his bathrobe and considered the trousers. He wondered if his briefs would leave a visible line under the fabric - they really were tight . He wondered if Garak would appreciate it, or be offended. Of course there was the possibility of the jockstraps he wore with his racquetball outfit, but that also seemed a bit…extra?
God, this was confusing. He'd been telling the truth when he said he mostly wore his uniform out of laziness - this was entirely too much to think about.
He decided to try them commando and see if the fabric irritated him too much. The fabric felt cool and silky, sluicing over his skin like water as he tugged the trousers into place and fastened them.
They felt good. Maybe a little too good. The cut really didn't leave much to the imagination.
The shirt hadn't been altered since the last time, but the two garments together created quite the effect. The shoulderpads were quite subtle compared to his Starfleet jacket, but they still helped to cut the same overall broad-shouldered, slim-waisted silhouette that Cardassian military men seemed to favor. Abruptly, Julian thought of that old Earth custom where exotic dancers would wear "sexy" versions of police uniforms.
A silly comparison, of course. Neither he nor his outfit looked anything like a gul.
He'd already showered twice - once before the fitting and again, even more thoroughly, to kill time until Garak closed up his shop for the day. He'd trimmed and buffed his nails very carefully (one only made that mistake with one partner before it became an obsessive habit) and did a little perfunctory preparation of certain anatomical areas. Things with Garak still felt a little too fragile to send a casual subspace message about whether he preferred to top or bottom, so he elected to be ready for anything.
After waffling a bit on the issue of body hair, he'd decided to trim the crucial areas only a little. It was…difficult to find reliable information about Cardassians intermingling sexually with other species, but their general obsession with "hygiene" had concerned him a little on that point. It didn't seem to extend as far as demanding the removal of body hair from those species inclined to grow it, and after about an hour of anxious spiraling he firmly decided that, quite frankly, he was quite the catch and Garak was simply not in the position to complain about his pubic hair.
He briefly wondered if Garak was having some kind of similar crisis about some arrangement of scales or other, and had a bit of a laugh to himself about it.
Maybe this had been a mistake. As determined as he was to go through with it, his nerves were getting the better of him with so much time to think. And Garak seemed even likelier to develop cold feet, special delivery notwithstanding. Julian would never forgive himself if he'd blown this opportunity -
His door chimed, and this time he nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Just a moment," he called out, hurrying to the replicator to punch in the platter of tapas that he'd programmed in earlier. He thought it would be wise to eat something light but sustaining before they got too carried away, so he'd put together an order of hummus, baba ghanouj, small flatbreads, olives, and various pickled vegetables that seemed like they'd suit a Cardassian palate. The plan was to have it all laid out and beautifully garnished before Garak arrived, but of course -
"You're early," Julian accused as he slapped the door button.
"I am," Garak agreed. "You did entreat me not to be late , but I recall no such prohibitions on the reverse."
His eyes glittered in the dimmed light.
"It's common sense," Julian muttered, his irritation only half-feigned as he turned and walked to the sofa. He could feel Garak's eyes on him. "I was trying to set a nice mood."
"I believe you've done that admirably already," Garak purred from awfully close behind him. Ah, so he hadn't lost his nerve. That was nice.
Julian turned just in time to see him setting two bottles on the table.
"I was doing some research on traditional Earth libations," Garak said, as he took a seat. He was wearing something familiar yet different - something black with silver accents, the usual square collar of Cardassian garments but with a wider neckline than he'd displayed in quite some time. A sash fastened around his waist with some kind of buckle, and Julian wondered if it was purely decorative or if it held any function. With a well-placed tug, could he loosen the whole thing and let it fall?
He intended to find out.
"I can see that," he said, picking up one of the bottles because it was something to do. It was chilled, and the glass felt slippery in his hand. "I haven't had gin in ages ."
"I hope that doesn't mean you dislike it."
"Oh, no," said Julian quickly. "Not at all. I just - maybe later, you know? I want to keep a clear head."
"If you insist," Garak sighed. "I have to admit I was curious about the taste of this…traditional Earth cocktail." He gestured to the other bottle, which Julian had correctly guessed was the mixer. "A G&T, they call it, apparently."
Julian chuckled warmly. It was quite transparently obvious that he'd looked up what drinks were popular in London, knowing that he had spent a good portion of his youth there.
"They do," Julian said. "I suppose one drink won't hurt. But first, we need to eat something."
"I do hope you're not attempting to stall for time." His tone indicated Garak was only griping, although there was likely some real anxiety underlying it. Julian smiled and let his hand rest briefly on Garak's thigh, just enough to see his eyes widen and breath catch.
"Not stalling. I was too nervous to eat much this morning, and I'm certain you've skipped more meals than you should have lately. Nothing heavy. Just enough for some energy. Come on." He nudged the platter in Garak's general direction. "Humor me, and I'll mix us those drinks."
He went and got two glasses of ice from the replicator. "Stop staring at my arse," he said, without turning around.
"Am I not allowed to admire my handiwork?"
Julian smiled to himself. "Oh, now that you mention it - how much did you have to bribe Rom's son to bring me the outfit?"
" Bribe ? Dear me, Doctor. The baseless accusations simply won't abate."
"Alright, fine. How much did it cost you to hire him?"
"Never mind that. Until there's an official courier service on the station, I'll do what I must."
"Hmph. I'm surprised the Cardassians didn't have a series of pneumatic tubes installed everywhere, what with their love of efficiency."
"Very little point, when most things can be replicated or sent digitally." Garak watched him closely as he poured them each a half-measure of gin. "Don't skimp out on me, Doctor. I promise not to overindulge."
"Oh! I don't plan to let you," Julian grinned. He stopped himself neatly before directly referencing The Incident, as he'd begun to think of it privately. They still hadn't really talked about it. He wondered if they ever would.
Garak was picking up one of the little flatbreads and carefully applying some hummus with a tiny butterknife. He took a bite, nodded his approval, and then picked up one of the feta-stuffed olives. Julian still didn't really feel like he could eat, but he knew he needed to, so he followed suit.
After swallowing, Garak took a sip of his drink and nodded thoughtfully. "It's…not entirely unpleasant. Very similar, actually, to a popular drink on Cardassia."
"Oh?" Julian rolled a bite of pickled okra around in his mouth, letting it stimulate his salivary glands. "What's it called?"
" Glan'tek ," Garak said. "It's made with any grain alcohol infused with glanporok leaves and - well, traditionally with the naturally sparkling mineral water from the Faartek district. Nowadays tekka just refers to any water that's been artificially carbonated and flavored in a pale imitation, and the cocktail is made with the same. It was a workman's drink originally, since the stonecutters who carved out the roads in Faartek couldn't afford proper liquor. Not as interesting of a backstory as the gin and tonic , I fear."
"I think it's quite interesting," Julian said, transparently watching as Garak's tongue briefly flicked out to lap up a stray bit of baba ghanouj from his finger. "But, go on. I'm curious what you've learned about the history of the G&T."
"Apparently, this tonic water was some sort of rudimentary medicine for a disease that was spreading amongst human colonists in a part of the planet that was hotter than they were accustomed to," Garak said, sounding even more smug than usual. "Something spread by…what was it, bloodsucking insects ?"
The idea was clearly amusing to him. "I suppose that's not as common of an issue on Cardassia," Julian hazarded.
"For our livestock, perhaps." Garak flashed him a brief grin. "I have known the occasional riding hound to be afflicted with a sort of sand-flea infestation."
"Well, you should count yourselves quite lucky. A lot of people died in agony. Of course they were a foreign occupying force - I suppose that's one of the hazards of the job." He glanced at Garak, wondering if he'd take the bait. The answer appeared to be no. Too close to the heart, perhaps.
Garak went on. "In any case, apparently the colonists found the medicinal water so unpalatable that they mixed it with cheap liquor in order to kill the taste, but oddly enough, they found that the drink tasted much better than the sum of its parts."
"That's how I heard the story, as well," Julian said. "It's funny, isn't it? Such a popular drink - and quite a good drink, really, invented quite by accident. Out of necessity. A lot of unlikely circumstances coming together - a lot of violence, a lot of suffering, and yet, here we are. Drinking to its memory."
"I don't suppose anyone would say it was worth it, in the end. But given the circumstances, it's really quite a testament to human adaptability."
For a moment they just smiled at each other in silence, and it was one of those rare times when Julian was absolutely certain they understood each other perfectly.
"You know, you never answered my question," Julian said, grabbing an olive and popping it into his mouth. "What sort of Cardassians dress like this?" He made a vague gesture at his own outfit.
Garak smiled a private little smile. "Nothing as scandalous as you suggest. The young, certainly - and more - open minded."
"Ah, of course."
"For a night out, perhaps."
"Are you saying this is Cardassian clubwear ?"
Garak tilted his head a little, presumably at some unexpected translation. "Is that so surprising, Doctor?"
Julian laughed. "No - I suppose not. Hard to picture, that's all."
"There are many aspects to Cardassian culture to which you've never been exposed," Garak said, this time following Julian's lead and shoving a triangle of flatbread directly into the bowl of hummus.
"Of course. I didn't mean to be -"
"You weren't," Garak interrupted, firmly.
"But I'm a little disappointed," Julian admitted, steering the conversation back to safer waters. "I was hoping for something more scandalous."
"Of course you were," said Garak, archly. "I'm afraid you'll have to own your actions tonight, Doctor. I'm not giving you any roles to play besides yourself."
"Hmm. The bold, handsome doctor who's finally managed to seduce his most enigmatic friend - I suppose you're right, that's probably enough baggage on its own."
At the word seduce , Garak coughed slightly on his mouthful of food, but he recovered gracefully.
" Seduced , Doctor? I've barely been wined and dined."
Julian fluttered his lashes. "Ah - when you're right, you're right. Come here, then. Don't make a liar out of me."
Garak met him halfway without hesitation, lips parting under his, mouth warm and pliant. Not quite as warm as a human's, but delicious and lovely. He tasted of gin and tonic and garlic and olive brine, and Julian licked into his mouth, coaxing out a soft moan that vibrated, trapped between them.
Julian wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Over two years of flirting, the runaround, the teasing, he thought maybe Garak would be more reserved, even now when his cards were on the table. But he seemed to melt into it, opening his mouth wider when Julian took hold of his face and absently stroked over the temporomandibular joint with his thumb.
Julian wondered, idly at first and then with a sudden sharpness, how long it might have been since anyone had treated Garak with any real tenderness. The thought swelled inside his chest until he fairly ached with it, and when Garak experimentally sucked at his tongue, he briefly went insensate with want.
When he came back to himself he was undoing the sash, discovering it was sadly just decorative after all, but then Garak's hand grasped his and guided him to a series of clasps in the fold across his torso - one, two, three.
"Oh," Julian exhaled in a rush as he pulled away from perhaps the most protracted kiss of his life to finally look his fill. It had not been allowed, before - things seen only in a professional capacity didn't count, and he refused to commit them to memory any more than strictly necessary for medical care.
(One night, back at the Academy, climbing a fence for no real reason other than to prove that they could, Palis had slipped and landed wrong on her leg. A devastating injury for a dancer without prompt treatment, and Julian felt himself slip into the role he'd only taken on during educational rotations before - heard himself speak as he imagined he would to a patient, thinking only of the tendons and bones that needed immediate repair, the importance of antiinflammatories to keep the blood flow in the crucial capillaries of those delicate ankles and toes. Palis herself seemed only like something attached to the medical problem, like a parent wringing their hands over a sick child. Her leg was still beautiful to him, but in an entirely different way - and if he was being honest with himself, after that night, after the way her dark eyes watched him, brow knitted in pain and then in frustration as she had to repeat herself over and over again to be heard, antennae twitching in anger when she finally reached her limit of being politely mollified and ignored and demanded to know what he was doing and he said, very calmly, "I'm doing my job" - nothing between them was ever, ever the same.)
Garak's scales flowed in whorls and patterns from his shoulders down to his chest, two pectoral ridges bisecting the rounded muscles, scales growing smaller until they gave way to thick sturdy skin, then softer, softer still. Not as soft as human skin, but on his stomach it was soft enough to sag, to wrinkle, to fold over the waistband of his stiff woolen trousers just a little, no matter how much he sucked in his breath. Given half a chance, Julian would lay him down and kiss him there as long as he was allowed.
For now he just touched, gently at first, fingertips tracing, silently counting, noticing the asymmetry of the scale patterns on one shoulder and the other, beautiful, beautiful . Oh, the dark blue flush that followed the path of his fingers like he was dragging a chunk of oil pastel across the canvas of Garak's scales. His cock throbbed painfully against the buttons of his fly.
His throat felt like the Tyree desert. He couldn't find the words even if he'd been able to speak them, so he hoped he didn't need to.
Garak was staring at him, pupils blown, mouth parted around each short, shallow breath. He finally seemed to unfreeze and reach out - and oh, Julian had only ever pulled the shirt on over his head and removed it the same way, he hadn't realized it bore the same set of clasps along the fold - one, two, three . It fluttered open and he shrugged it off, impatient. He'd turned up the temperature out of consideration for Garak, of course, but now it was just adding to his list of reasons why he needed to be naked immediately.
Garak was grabbing him by the hip then, pulling him closer, perhaps because he felt too exposed, but Julian didn't have the wherewithal to question it. He straddled Garak's thighs, letting the tailor grip him and pull him close. The little growl when Garak felt his arousal nudging up against his stomach - maybe he'd done his research, maybe it was just obvious what it signified.
Nimble gray fingers popped the buttons on his fly - one, two, three .
For a moment neither one of them moved, or spoke, or breathed. Then Julian dipped in for another taste of his mouth and ground against him for good measure, because why not? The underside of his prick rubbed against the long ridges trailing down the center of Garak's torso from the teardrop scale, and shock of pleasure went through him like static electricity. He broke away to gasp for air.
"Is that - are you -"
Garak just stared up at him, expression unreadable.
"Electrogenerative, aren't they? The…" Don't say spoons. Don't -
Garak's mouth twitched. "Surely you ought to know that, Doctor."
"You know I don't. You might've warned me."
"I was…unsure you'd be able to feel it. Generally only direct contact from chu'en to chu'en …" Garak stroked Julian's flanks absently, looking a little troubled. "I suppose I forgot how sensitive human skin can be."
"It's quite alright," Julian assured him. "I don't mind it."
"No?"
"Now that I know to expect it. But wait, hold on - I kissed your forehead earlier."
"Well?"
"I didn't feel it then."
"Ah - well." Garak wasn't looking at him anymore. "It's much stronger under…certain conditions."
"You mean when you're aroused."
Garak glanced up at him balefully, his head still slightly downcast. "If you insist on calling it that."
Julian laughed outright at that. "Oh, you're ridiculous. I don't know what I expected. Of course you're ridiculous. But I didn't think you'd be so shy . Hang on - I want to try something." He removed a hand from Garak's shoulder and popped his thumb into his mouth, purely to moisten it, but when he saw Garak's eyes widen he couldn't resist making a little show of it before he pulled it out with a wet pop and went for the chest divot.
He stroked it gently, and the shivering little shock sensation went through all the muscles of his hand. "Oh!" he exclaimed softly, and Garak inhaled sharply at the same time. "What does it feel like? For you?"
Garak shook his head briefly. "Ah - buzzing, I suppose. I don't…"
"Is it - is it bad? I'm sorry. I didn't -"
"No," Garak cut in, fervently. "It's not - it's just -"
"Overwhelming?" Julian suggested.
" Intense ," Garak said. "Much the same as it is for you, I suppose."
"Right. Of course." Julian was fascinated, but he was also becoming increasingly aware of himself in exactly the sort of sharp, uncomfortable way one preferred not to be aware of oneself when straddling a half-undressed man's lap. He felt hot all over, disheveled, and oddly self-conscious. "Can we…I mean, I'd like to get in bed. If that's alright with you."
Garak swallowed audibly. "Of course," he said.
Julian got up, his trousers still clinging to him a bit despite no longer being fastened, but they started to slide down as soon as he took a step.
Garak stood too, and shrugged out of his tunic. He laid it over the back of the sofa while Julian, after a brief inner debate with himself, went to peel himself out of the pants.
"Not like that," Garak tutted, swiftly closing the small distance between them and taking hold of the waistband. "No underclothes, Doctor - really ?"
"There's hardly any room for them," Julian said, very reasonably, as Garak slowly pulled the trousers down. His cock finally bobbed completely free, and they both looked down.
Garak was just - staring.
"No cutting remarks? I'm disappointed," Julian said after a while, to break the silence.
"I do have a sense of decorum," Garak replied, dragging his eyes back up to Julian's face.
"Since when?" Julian inhaled sharply as Garak's fingertips traced along the length of him, like he didn't quite feel ready to take hold of it. The trousers remained, forgotten, pushed down to mid-thigh.
"Softer than I expected," Garak commented.
Julian snorted.
"The skin, I mean," Garak amended. "Like velvet."
"I knew what you meant. It was still funny. Don't - you're just tickling me at this point."
"Well, then show me how."
"Finish undressing me first," Julian countered. This was comfortable territory, somehow - he wasn't usually naked when they bantered, and he usually didn't have an erection ( usually ), but it felt more or less the same.
Right about the time Garak was crouching at his feet to finish the job, it occurred to Julian that maybe they could skip right past the handjob demonstration. His tongue was like a human's but a little bit rougher, it would probably feel glorious, just this side of too much …Garak's fingers encircled his ankle, lifting his foot gently. Julian shifted his weight obediently to one foot, and then the other, stepping free of the rumpled fabric.
Then Garak stood, and Julian shook off the thought. Later .
He went for the fastenings of Garak's trousers. Garak inhaled audibly but didn't attempt to stall him, just watched silently as he performed the same small ritual. But when Julian was on his knees, he found it impossible to resist the urge.
Once Garak was free of his clothes, rather than stand up, Julian leaned in. The microscaling on either side of the - well, he supposed labia could be the word for it, was blushing a sort of charcoal-blue just like the rest of his erogenous zones, and the soft pinkish-gray flesh inside was blooming open, swelling and pushing itself out, presenting for him.
At the apex of the opening he could see just the tip of what he presumed to be Garak's cock. He knew enough from the recovered medical files to understand the basic shape of it, but he looked forward to seeing the whole thing in the flesh.
He smelled sweet, with a hint of - something like ozone? Julian licked his lips and cast his eyes upwards, fluttering his lashes deliberately.
Garak's mouth was slightly open, eyes uncharacteristically dark.
"Hmm," Julian said, lightly stroking the soft scales of his inner thigh, glistening with wetness. "Now what shall I do with all this ?"
"Whatever you like," Garak said.
Feeling giddy, Julian leaned in and licked up the visible length of the slit, applying pressure with the flat of his tongue in a way that usually got favorable results with vulva-adjacent configurations.
Garak hissed, pitching forward and clutching Julian's shoulder. Bullseye .
Grinning, Julian went in for more, firm slow laps that soon brought a rush of fluid to meet his tongue. He wondered if -
Garak gripped him by the hair, hard . Julian couldn't suppress a little moan as his head was pulled back.
"If you insist on debauching me in this manner, at least do it in bed," Garak growled, with transparently feigned indignance.
"Oh, by all means." Julian got to his feet, a little unsteadily. "Your comfort is, as always, paramount."
Somewhere between the ungraceful shuffle to the bed and Garak lying back on the mattress, scales still stained blue with desire but eyes apprehensive, Julian felt that ache in his chest again. He climbed up after him but resisted the urge to resume his earlier ministrations, instead dipping down for a kiss and sliding a hand under his shoulders, gently guiding him to roll into his side.
"Garak," he said, compulsively stroking the line of scales along the side of his torso, "I - is that what you'd prefer that I call you, here?"
"It is my name." There was irritation in his voice, but a touch of amusement too. "If you'd prefer one of your insipid human terms of endearment, I will endure it, for your sake."
So that was a no on Elim, then. Fair enough.
"So what's 'my dear doctor,' then? Not insipid, I suppose, when you're the one doing it."
"Precisely."
Julian stroked his glossy hair behind his ear ridge, wishing Garak would forgo that stiff pomade that all the Cardassian men insisted on wearing. It seemed a bit early to start expressing those kinds of preferences, though. "You're ridiculous," he said. "You know, I almost took you up on it - the day we met."
Garak's eyes widened slightly. "Did you? Just to think, I could've had your measurements as early as that."
Julian laughed. "I'm glad I didn't, though. I - well. It's better this way, I think."
"Perhaps." Garak nudged his body closer, and Julian felt an arc of tingling electricity from chest to groin, where two of Garak's chu'en made contact with his skin.
He shuddered and smiled, feeling goosebumps rise all over his skin. "Some people get specialized toys for this sort of thing, you know."
"But not you." Garak was fishing. Garak was always fishing.
"Well, I don't need one now, do I?" Julian grinned, bumping their foreheads together for the brief buzz . "I've got you ."
Over the past few years, Julian had been trying to hone the skill of saying sweet nothings that implied the possibility of more without being off-putting to casual partners. He'd gotten plenty of feedback in his academy days from people who said they would have been interested in something more serious if he hadn't come on so strong. This had never made intuitive sense to him, but he'd tried to take it under advisement.
As strong of a connection as he felt to Garak - Garak , of all people, the interrogator, the war criminal, the infuriating reactionary - whatever they were, whatever they could be, he was determined not to ruin it by sloshing his feelings all over the place.
He wasn't sure what reaction he expected, really. What he got was a soft growl and a suddenly aggressive Cardassian rolling him over and pushing him into the mattress, hands on his wrists, teeth on his neck. It was a pretty good approximation of how he'd imagined Garak would take him to bed, back when they met. As such, it wasn't exactly unwelcome, though he wasn't entirely sure what he'd done to trigger the seeming rush of…confidence? Machismo? It certainly felt like a performance, but then wasn't everything about Garak a performance?
Julian gave himself over to it, telling himself firmly that there was no reason to feel uneasy. It was safer, too, to take a more passive role in sex - very little risk of betraying anything suspicious.
And it was nice . Garak's weight pressing down on him, teeth and tongue nipping and rasping along his neck, his collarbone, his chest; the little frissions of static electricity from the contact with his chu'en . From the feeling of the genital slit currently pressed against his thigh, he guessed Garak's cock was still sheathed, and he wondered how long it would stay like that - if he could do anything to inspire its emergence. He was - if he was being really, painfully honest with himself - a little disappointed that it was taking this long.
Garak pulled away, not meeting his eyes, and climbed off of him just enough to grasp him by the shoulder and flip him onto his stomach. Julian mewled and squirmed eagerly, and it was only partially an act. This was clearly the role Garak wanted him to play, he'd done it plenty of times before, and he was good at it.
The bites on his shoulder now came from a different angle. Teeth scraping along the nape of his neck, trying to get a hold.
"You didn't answer me," Garak murmured in his ear. The voice was Garak, at least, but the tone was not one that Julian recognized. He shivered.
"What do you mean?"
"Why now?" Those teeth found purchase on his nape now, digging in hard, not enough to draw blood, but nearly.
"I did ," he insisted, breathless, rutting against the mattress.
Garak grasped his hip in one hand to still him. " Stop . Give me the real answer."
"That was the real answer. When you brought up my pants like that I thought - I thought you were -"
His heart was hammering in his chest. Julian forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Garak, for all he might've done in his past, was his friend .
(And, if it came down to it, if he really had to -)
"Is this an interrogation?" he asked, trying for a playful tone.
The fingers on his hip tightened to the point of pain. "When it's an interrogation, Doctor, you'll know ."
Julian twisted his head around, but Garak's eyes slid away just as he tried to meet them. When he moved to roll back over, Garak didn't move, but let go of his hip and didn't push back to stop him. Julian reached up to stroke a neck ridge, gently, without any particular intent. Garak's eyelids fluttered, but didn't close.
"The reason why now ," he said softly, "is because I almost died. We almost died. I truly thought that was obvious, I'm sorry I didn't say it in so many words."
Garak, still poised over him with his gaze fixed on the pillow slightly to his left, shook his head slightly. "You were dying and you thought - oh, my one regret is that I didn't sleep with that ridiculous tailor -"
"Is that so difficult to believe?"
Garak was looking at him now - not at his face, but downwards, no doubt taking notice of his flagging erection and feeling guilty about it. He pulled away, seeming to shrink into himself slightly as he sat back towards the pillows and folded his legs under himself.
"Maybe not my only regret. But the one that seemed easiest to resolve." Julian sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the residual prickling of his scalp from the electricity. He must look ridiculous. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong. I tend to do that."
" You …" Garak laughed a little, shaking his head. He was just plain, simple Garak again. "No, Julian. You haven't done anything wrong."
There was a silence, in which Julian scooted a little closer and nudged up against Garak a little, who lifted his arm seemingly without thought, letting Julian tuck himself in against his side and lean back against the headboard.
"There's no rush," Julian said softly.
"I think I've kept you waiting long enough."
"I can wait as long as you need."
"I suppose you can," Garak muttered.
"Hey - come on. Not like that." Julian jostled his arm a bit.
"I wasn't -"
"Yes, you were." Julian closed his eyes against his better judgment, but the sound of Garak's heartbeat was uniquely soothing. He'd attuned himself to hear it during that long, terrible vigil after the implant broke down, because for all his state-of-the-art medical monitoring, he wouldn't have risked sleeping if he couldn't hear it for himself. "I could have an epic affair with every Dabo dealer and passing freighter captain on this station and it wouldn't change how I feel about you , in specific."
"That's not what I meant," said Garak, in a tone that suggested that was exactly what he'd meant.
"Okay," Julian said, because for once it wasn't the right time to argue.
A few moments passed quietly before Garak spoke again.
"I won't insult your intelligence," he said, "by informing you that I 'can't give you what you need.' You know what I am, and where my loyalties lie. I can only assume you have decided that whatever you anticipate gaining from this…" He waved a hand vaguely. "...is worth the compromise of your values."
"And what about yours?" Julian prompted, when he fell silent for a moment.
Garak glanced at him sidelong. "My values…do not prohibit this."
"Anything for the good of the state, I suppose."
"We are allowed recreational sex, you know." A smile tugged at Garak's mouth. "Goodness. Where have you been getting these terribly old-fashioned ideas about Cardassian culture?"
"Culture is one thing. But I know you still serve your government, even now."
"And you serve yours."
"The Federation are known for their open-mindedness."
"Starfleet might be a little less understanding."
"I think," said Julian, lifting the hand that dangled over his shoulder to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it, "that they understand you to be an asset, if one to be handled with care."
"And you?"
"I understand you to be my friend." Another kiss, on the palm this time. "But I'm not above exploiting the convenience of our relative positions in the bigger picture, if it means we can be a little closer."
"There may be a time," said Garak, his voice now a low murmur as Julian stroked a thumb across the microscales on the back of his hand, "when you're called upon to do something - unfriendly ."
"And what would you have me do?"
"Julian…"
"Sorry. I know that's an impossible question to answer."
"It's also not what I meant when I brought up your values ," Garak said. "Julian, some of our little lunchtime discussions touch on a much deeper ideological rift. If you hadn't noticed."
"Garak, I like the way you challenge me, make me think about why I believe what I believe. I think I challenge you, too, even if you won't admit it. I think you have a different perspective than you did before we met. Even if only a little. And that's enough for me." It has to be.
"You certainly have a high opinion of your own powers of persuasion, Doctor."
"I got you into my bed, didn't I?" Julian smiled, turning to face him, and the kiss they both melted into felt as natural as anything, in spite of it all.
Garak might never be able to give him the intimacy, the trust , that he really craved. If Enabran Tain called him home, he would go, and he would leave his dear doctor behind as nothing more than a fond (Juilan hoped) memory. It was a thought that ached, somewhere deep in Julian's chest where he didn't dare try to dig it out.
The kiss was deepening, stirring up the quiescent desires that they'd once again sidelined in favor of conversation. Julian pulled away before he got too caught up in it.
"Garak," he exhaled. "I meant what I said. We don't have to -"
He found himself muffled against a pair of kiss-warmed lips, and decided to let it go.
Suddenly they were rolling over in a tangle of limbs, this time with Julian landing on top. This time, he applied himself to licking and nipping at the neck ridges, remembering them to be crucial erogenous zones. Not that any lack of arousal had been the problem, last time. It was, as usual, Julian running his stupid mouth faster than his augmented brain.
I've got you.
He hadn't really meant it that way, but it had clearly triggered something in Garak, something sad and fearful and angry. Perhaps because he knew it could never be true. Or perhaps -
He was nibbling on the scale just between the neck and shoulder, the one that some of Garak's species tended to paint with blue. And Garak groaned, back arching, and dear God if Julian had known he could do this so easily, that it would be so intoxicating to see such a tightly buttoned-up man absolutely go to pieces over a few well-placed bites, he wouldn't have waited this long.
Garak bucked up against Julian's thigh with purpose now, and this time he could feel the difference, slick flesh just barely containing something that was desperate to spring free. Julian slipped his hand between their bodies and palmed the whole area roughly, unsure exactly what he needed to do, but loving the way even his unskilled touch was enough to unravel Garak.
"Don't hold back," he murmured, nuzzling against Garak's chin ridges, nipping at them a little for good measure. "Let me see you."
Evidently, that was it. Garak let out a rumbling moan and Julian's waiting hand was suddenly filled with slick, spongy flesh. He stroked the whole thing, getting a feel for it, reaching the base and seeking the bottom ridge where he knew the most nerve endings lived. A twisting grip, another few bites on the neck, and Garak was lost in it, eyes screwed shut, panting, chasing his pleasure.
Julian watched, enraptured. A few minutes later Garak's whole body tensed; he cried out, something that almost sounded like it could be Julian if a few of the letters slurred together. His sleek wet cock jumped and shot several impressive ropes of milky blueish-white fluid across his stomach, the final bit dripping down and pooling in his chuva .
The spike of lust that went through Julian was intense, and he almost couldn't resist the urge to join in and finish himself off in a half-dozen strokes to mingle his seed with Garak's across the tailor's still-quivering stomach. But he breathed through it, clenching a fistful of sheets in his free hand to keep still.
Garak came blinking back to awareness, reaching down for Julian's prick and grasping it firmly this time. Julian closed his own fist around Garak's and guided him in the motion, biting his lip and fighting the urge to thrust into each stroke.
Still breathless, Garak stared up at him. Julian released his hand, letting him take over the motions, and leaned down to kiss him. The harsh exhales from Garak's nostrils tickled his upper lip, and it was just enough of a distraction to keep him from embarrassing himself.
When he broke away, it all caught up with him at once. The pleasure surged, and his hips jerked instinctively. "Garak, I'm - I'm close -"
Garak hadn't bothered to warn him , he realized dimly, though of course he'd only made a mess of his own stomach, so Julian supposed that was fine.
He heard a sharp cry as it all peaked - his own, of course, but it sounded so far away, like he was listening from underwater. The sweet, sharp feeling burst through him as usual, then a few more shuddering waves - too intense to be aftershocks, but not quite as powerful as the initial one.
His body tingled all over, though he wasn't touching Garak's chu'en . He ought to remedy that, he thought, winding his arms around the man and pulling him close, smearing the mess between them.
Garak didn't protest. His hand slid up Julian's arm to his shoulder and when Julian kissed him, his mouth yielded immediately, tongue sliding roughly against Julian's.
Julian finally broke away, smiling against Garak's lips. "You know - a lot of humans think it's rude to thank someone after sex -"
"Doctor, every day I learn some new troubling fact about humanity against my will. Can I not have a moment's reprieve?"
"My point is, that was lovely."
"I'll allow that. But it wasn't sex ."
"Oh? What was it, then?"
"Adolescent fumbling. Quite shameful, really." The glint in Garak's eye suggested otherwise. "What would your friends think?"
"'Sounds like a typical weekday for Julian.' You know, if you want to have another go you don't need to blackmail me. Just give me a few minutes."
"Only a few?" Eye ridges lifted in mild surprise.
"Mmhm." Julian dipped in for another kiss, because he wanted to, but also because he needed a distraction. "I'm very resilient."
"I've no doubt you are." Garak seemed content to leave it at that, thank the prophets and the stars and whatever other gods might oversee such things. He slid his hand up, letting his fingers tangle in Julian's hair, and pulled him down to slot their mouths together once again.
"How do you want me?" Julian asked when he was released, feeling the little frisson of electricity building as Garak's desire rose again.
"However you like," Garak demurred.
"No preference?" He let his fingers drift along the line of scales down the side of Garak's torso.
"Not especially."
You seemed to have one earlier, Julian thought, but did not say. This was still too fragile a thing.
"Okay," he said, pulling back enough so he could reach between their bodies. They were both palpably sticky down the middle, but Garak still seemed unbothered. Julian danced his fingers down the genital slit, still puffy and wet but significantly less so than before. "You know, Miles was finally able to recover a lot of those medical files Central Command tried to destroy when they left."
"I'll thank you not to mention Chief O'Brien in bed."
"Hmm." Garak was growing warmer and slicker under his fingers, but Julian elected not to tease him on that particular point. "The point is, I've done a bit of study. I know what's possible, but not necessarily what's pleasurable . You'll have to work with me here."
"I intend to, Doctor."
"Some people make the mistake of thinking that…natural lubrication is a sign that somebody's enjoying themselves. But that's not always the case." He slipped two fingers between the folds, feeling Garak's inner muscles ripple and contract like they were already trying to pull him in deeper. "For example, with humans, penetration often isn't the - oh… "
His fingers were buried to the hilt now, fully at the mercy of whatever the hell Garak was doing in there.
"Is - is that voluntary ?" he asked, a little breathless, as his cock twitched back to life.
"Why? Should I stop?" Garak blinked innocently.
" No… " Julian sucked in a breath, then let it out in a little amused huff. "I was just - trying to -"
"I prepared myself already," Garak cut in primly. "Whenever you're recovered, Doctor -"
"You prepared yourself, did you?" Julian climbed atop him, slotting between his thighs like he was meant to be there. "When did you find the time ?"
Garak rolled his eyes. "In the bath. It's a simple enough matter of dilating the internal muscles with a replicated tool. Purely practical. You needn't leer at me like that."
"How am I meant not to? You tell me something like that…" Julian withdrew his fingers with an obscene, wet sound. He leaned down to suck and nibble on the neck ridges, licking around his words as he spoke. "Did you come? Fucking yourself, in the bath?"
Garak let out a long-suffering sigh that was only slightly tempered by the rumbling purr of pleasure in his chest. "What kind of question is that?"
So that was a yes , then.
Overwhelmed by the whole thing, Julian nudged Garak's thighs open wider and guided his cock to the twitching opening.
"You weren't joking," Garak murmured. "About only needing a few minutes."
"I wouldn't," Julian said. "Anyway, it doesn't hurt that you won't shut your filthy mouth."
Garak laughed at that, throaty and raw, his mouth open wide enough for Julian to see the tip of his tongue worrying at the deceptively sharp edge of a front tooth. "Would - ah !"
The noise was so sharp that it reminded Julian of much unhappier times, and he froze, feeling the way Garak's whole body had tensed like a bowstring under him when he slid inside.
But Garak bucked up towards him then, knees tightening on either side of his hips and jostling him, silently begging. His mouth was still open, chest heaving, nostrils flaring as he scented the air.
Julian could have pretended not to understand. Could've made him beg.
He didn't.
He picked up a quick pace instead, and Garak groaned, head digging back into the pillow as his neck arched. That blueish flush was almost everywhere now, and it was becoming increasingly clear that the vague notes in those medical and research files about how arousal may become more intense in subsequent sexual encounters within a given twenty-six hour period were…at least somewhat accurate.
Julian Bashir had yet to find a species whose libido he couldn't keep up with. He considered it a matter of personal pride. He wondered how much of a challenge Garak would present as the night wore on - evidently, their hormones didn't decrease with age, which meant they often became more sexually active as the years passed and their social capital and access to partners naturally increased. Considering Garak's less-than-ideal social circumstances, he might have a great deal of pent-up energy.
"You really needed a good, hard fuck. Didn't you?" Julian buried his face in Garak's shoulder, sinking his teeth into the blue-shimmering scales. He was trying to stop himself from speaking. But Garak's inner muscles rippled around him, and he couldn't help it. "I should write you a prescription."
Garak's claws sank into his back. Just a little, but enough to make him gasp.
"Next time," the tailor groaned, "remind me to gag you."
"You love it, really." Julian mouthed his way from neck to chula . The little zap when his tongue connected no longer surprised him, but it still brought the goosebumps back. "The way I never shut up." He slowed his pace a little, tried to take his time.
"Despise it, actually," said Garak, punctuating it with a dreamy sigh as he writhed beneath him.
"Mmm. I can tell." Julian leaned in to kiss him. "You're barely containing your… disgust ."
Garak laughed, a little wild, locking his ankles around Julian's waist. "We'll see who can contain it for longer, I suppose - won't we?"
For a while, they simply existed there - undulating, connected, breaths coming harsher and harsher as they stared at each other in a sort of half-disbelieving ecstacy.
Julian reached down between their bodies and grasped around the root of Garak's cock with his thumb and forefinger.
"Not fair," Garak protested, even as he arched into the touch. "Oh - Julian -"
Hearing his name, like that , was just about all he could withstand. Julian felt it spark from the base of his spine, through every inch of his body, pure, unadulterated pleasure.
He came back to awareness slowly. Garak was surprisingly quiet, and pliant. Julian nuzzled against him, winding his arms and legs around the sturdy form.
"That was awfully close," Julian yawned. "Borderline inconclusive. What do you think, best out of three?"
Garak twisted his head around skeptically. "I believe I've been misled about the limits of human stamina."
"I'm feeling quite motivated," Julian said. "But maybe a bit of a nap, first?"
"You are quite transparently just trying to trick me into staying the night."
"Blatant slander."
"I'm sure."
"Is that a no?"
"Of course it's not a no , Doctor."
"Mmm. Good."
The night, after all, had only just begun.