Work Header

Down On My Knees (I Wanna Take You There)

Work Text:

The sight in front of the Constable is a happily familiar one -- a petty criminal, on his knees, begging for mercy -- but the next words out of the suspect’s mouth are not anything Odo expects to hear.

“I can make it worth your while,” Quark says in a low voice, smirking.  

Odo stiffens his shifted spine, glowering down at Quark.

“You can what,” he croaks.

“Make it worth your while, to not arrest me.”  Quark flutters his eyes up at Odo, towering above him.  “A… quid pro quo.  I scratch your back, you scratch mine-- that type of thing.”

Odo scoffs, his arms folded.  “Bribing a security officer, you should know better than that by now.  As much as I enjoy your desperate pleading, it won’t make a difference.  Now follow me down to the security office.”

Odo rolls his eyes and turns to head out the door of Quark’s quarters, but Quark grabs a handful of the fake textile of Odo’s pant leg, halting his exit.  “Have you ever been with a woman?”

“That is none of your concern.”  Odo shifts hairy cactus spines through his pants, and Quark hastily lets go, grimacing at Odo while shaking his hand out.

“How about a man?  Or any other gendered being?”

Odo shakes his head, liking less and less where this conversation might be headed.

“But you plan to someday.  You might be able to lie yourself, but you can’t fool me-- you don’t want to be alone forever.”  

Odo says nothing, and Quark takes that as an opening.

“Because if you find yourself a lovely companion some day, they will have had their whole lives understanding humanoid sex, on an intuitive level if nothing else, but here you are, virgin prude, can barely shift a decent pair of ears, willfully denying yourself these experiences.  You won't be able to connect on the same level without a little learning and some practice.”

“I don’t have any interest in learning,” Odo sneers.  His arms are still folded tight against his body, which caves in rather unnaturally at the pressure.  “And to think that, I assume, you would claim to be an expert, pah!”

“I’m very talented,” Quark shoots back defensively.  “I have quite a bit of experience exchanging a taste of my--” Quark licks his lips salaciously “--skills for… lenience.  A blind eye.”  He raises his browridge with an expectant insinuation.

“Quark,” Odo says with exasperation, “you know very well that won’t work on me.  I’m not encumbered by humanoid sexual proclivities.  And, more importantly, it’s very illegal as you well know.”

“Well how about this--” Quark shifts his weight, still resolutely kneeling on the ground. “I would really love to suck your dick, whether or not you arrest me after.  I’m betting I can change your mind, but regardless I’m up for a challenge.”

While Quark has always been quite a bit smaller than Odo’s humanoid form, seeing him on his knees--pitiful and puny in a deliberate performance of inferiority-- is satisfying to Odo in a way that should disturb him.  Or would, if it were someone other than Quark.  

“Well I’ll definitely be arresting you for attempted bribery,” Odo grumbles.  

“Sure fine,” Quark waves his hands dismissively, “but if you participate than that would be awfully hypocritical of you, wouldn’t it?  Anyway I promise you won't regret it.  I certainly won't even if I'm sleeping in a holding cell tonight.  But I won’t be.”  Quark winks.

Odo doesn’t want to admit Quark’s proposition intrigues him, though purely on an intellectual level of course.  It’d be interesting to see how a real life interaction matches up with his Bajoran romance novels.  For comparison’s sake.  Research to better understand humanoids and what makes them tick, that’s all.

“You said you wanted to suck my dick?” Odo says before he can stop himself.  He unfolds his arms and swings them to clasp behind his back instead, trying to cultivate an air of nonchalance.

“Or whatever you have going on in there, I'm not picky,” Quark says quickly, gesturing towards Odo’s pants.  “I told you, I’m a seasoned expert.  Just give me something to work with.”

Odo stares down at Quark for a long moment.  He does get a perverse pleasure out of Quark like this: face expectant and squirming a little in anticipation, desperately wanting to please him.  Perhaps this won't be so bad.

“Alright.  You can teach me about humanoid sex, but so we’re clear you're not off the hook.”

“Really?!  You say that now… ” Quark’s face lights up in glee, dismissing Odo’s caveat. “Fine fine.  Okay first step.”  

He shuffles awkwardly on the ground to get closer and reaches up to undo Odo’s pants.  Odo, not having buttons or zippers on his shifted clothing, makes the pants disappear all at once, rather than bother pretending to take them off.  (Why precariously balanced bipeds thought trousers would be anything but awkward is beyond him.)  He leaves a crude approximation of underwear on, until he figures out what Quark intends to do next.  

Quark reels his head back, face appalled and hands still outstretched.

“No no, we're having humanoid sex,” Quark reprimands.  “I want to do it myself, it's part of the fun.”

Odo scoffs, folding his arms back over his chest.  “Fine, but you do realize my pants are part of my body.”

“I try to forget, but you're not helping.”

Pants shifted back into place, this time with clasps and buttons, Quark unfastens them with more steady deliberation than seems strictly necessary, peeling the cloth back just enough to expose Odo’s underwear-clad groin.  Quark nuzzles at Odo’s crotch with the ridges of his nose, a purring noise escaping from the back of his throat, then mouthes at him over his underwear… before letting out an ear-splitting shriek, reeling back with a look of disgust.

“There's nothing there but an amorphous blob!”

Odo scoffs defensively.  His Bajoran literature tends to gloss over anatomical details, but he should have at least attempted an approximation instead of embarrassing himself.  Not that he’d admit that to Quark.  “I should have known better than to listen to anything you think is a good idea--”

“Of course a freak like you wouldn’t know what to put in his pants, I shoulda realized I would have to walk you through this step by tedious step.”  Odo harrumphs at Quark’s patronizing tone and moves to pull his pants back into place (he doesn’t want to call further attention to his strangeness by shapeshifting them on), but Quark quickly places his hand on Odo’s to stop him.  “No no, wait it’s-- it’s okay.  Ummm so, next lesson is that you need a dick.  Or whatever, but it should have a definite shape.”

Odo stares at Quark, impassive, but Quark doesn’t make any further insulting remarks, so he begrudgingly sprouts a cylindrical appendage, disappearing the underpants.

Quark licks his lips.  “Okay, good good.  Probably best you don’t bother with ridges or anything, so it matches the rest of the weird smooth thing you’ve got going.  Maybe rounder on the end, a bit bigger... bigger still, longer, slightly wider--”  Odo gives him a withering look from above. “Uh, that’s good then!”

Quark, with a practiced concentration, swipes his tongue around the end of Odo’s appendage, licks at it delicately a couple more times, then pops the first couple centimeters in his mouth, and grasps his hand around the remainder.  He maintains a suction with his mouth while continuing to run his tongue up and down and around, all with enough vigor and confidence that Odo has to reluctantly concede that maybe Quark does know what he’s doing.  

Odo tries to keep track of what particular movements Quark engages in, for his own reference since the pretense of this exercise is for him to learn about humanoid sex, but gets distracted by the new sensations.  Quark’s tongue has a peculiar slightly bumpy surface, not as smooth or slippery as it appears, and his mouth is warm, hot even.  When Quark retreats his mouth along Odo’s length and the wetness of his saliva on Odo comes in contact with the air, there’s an abrupt contrast in temperature.  Presumably this is part of the appeal, a way to titillate the humanoid nervous system, but Odo doesn’t have the ability to create fluids like that without leaving parts of himself behind in the process, so this isn’t a technique he could mimic entirely.

Lost in such deliberation, Odo is startled as Quark slides off of Odo altogether, his mouth making a wet popping noise as the suction breaks.  Was that all?  Rather anti-climatic -- hardly seems worth the fuss.

Quark glares up at Odo, heaving a sigh. “You could at least pretend to be enjoying this.  Sex isn’t one-sided; you can’t stand there with your arms folded like you’re staring down a witness for a confession.  It’s unnerving.”

“Well what do you expect me to do?  You’re supposed to be the expert here,” Odo snipes sarcastically, “or are you just making it up as you go along?”

Quark growls a little under his breath.  “The point is that you’re in control, and I’m down here to give you pleasure,” Quark says, in the same tone he uses with exceptionally drunk idiots who try to pretend they’ve already paid their bills.  “Use me as your plaything.  Loosen up and do what feels right.”

“I don’t feel the same way humanoids, do that’s the whole point,” Odo grumbles.

Quark rolls his eyes but doesn’t give any more advice before plunging in again, grasping onto Odo’s pants with his hands and leaving the root of Odo’s appendage untouched.  Quark moans slightly, the vibrations of the sound reverberating through Odo in a pleasant manner, then blinks rapidly as if he didn’t mean to let that happen.  Quark doesn’t stop, however, and starts to move his body with the rhythm of his sucking, bobbing up and down on Odo, hands tightly wound in the fabric of Odo’s pants, and it feels like Quark has managed to put tongue his everywhere along the makeshift cock at once.  

“I’m enjoying this so much; what a delight you are,” Odo deadpans, following through on Quark’s demand for him to “at least pretend”, and Quark rolls his eyes down below, but continues his ministrations, moaning again as he bobs.

Despite Quark’s reprimand that this act is about the receiver’s pleasure (in this case, Odo’s), so far Quark seems to be the prime recipient of enjoyment from this act, although to Odo’s knowledge the mouth isn’t the dominant sexual organ in Ferengi or most humanoids.  Quark must be getting some sort of mental buzz from the situation, at the very least.  Curious.

Idly, Odo wonders why Quark wanted him to make his appendage (he hesitates to call it a true “dick”) longer in length if he doesn’t even engage with the whole thing and mostly focuses on the first several centimeters.  

Perhaps he’s expecting Odo to close that gap.  

Experimenting, Odo places his hands each on one of the lumps on the back of Quark’s head, then retracts his appendage to half its length before shooting outwards to its previous extension, thrusting so that Quark is forced to take the whole of it into his mouth at once.  

After all Odo is supposed to be the one in charge of this operation, using Quark as his “plaything”.  He may as well take Quark up on that offer.

Quark makes a surprised choking sound as it hits the back of his throat, and Odo's initiative is rewarded with Quark’s throat tightening and his body convulsing slightly with an involuntary clenching.  Odo freezes in place, keeping his hands only lightly rested on Quark's head, now worried maybe he’s gone too far, that this wasn’t supposed to happen.  Instead of pulling off, however, Quark stays resolutely still, drawing air loudly through his nose with heavy breaths.  

When Quark glances back up at Odo, his eyes are wide, impressed even, with a glint of excitement.  Then Quark raises his browridge with an unmistakable tilt that Odo recognizes as Quark instigating a challenge-- is that all you’ve got? -- and that’s all the encouragement Odo needs to continue.  

Odo clasps firmly onto Quark’s head, fingers gripping the crease in the center between the lumps, holding him in place.  Odo retracts and extends again, experimenting with shifting the width of the appendage, slowly at first, forcing Quark to adjust to the size of him.  He then gains speed, thrusting into Quark’s hot, acquiescent mouth rapidly and repeatedly.  Quark continues to moan wildly, sucking in harsh breaths in between thrusts, flaring his nostrils, and clinging to Odo's pant legs as if it's the only thing holding him up, but he makes no effort to disrupt the pace he lets Odo set.

Odo, despite his earlier reticence, now starts to see the appeal of this act, beyond the novel textural sensations and noise vibrations.  Unlike on most days when Quark interjects an irritating and unnecessary amount of chaos into the order Odo wishes he could maintain on the station, right here right now Odo is fully in control of the moment, of Quark who is now at Odo’s mercy, taking whatever Odo gives him so beautifully.  

Odo relishes the various whimpers and moans and gurgles Quark can’t hold back, and makes it his goal to make Quark squirm around him as much as possible.  He experiments with alternating between maintaining a steady predictable pace before disrupting the rhythm to thrust deeply into the back of Quark’s mouth, out of sync, catching Quark off guard so that he clenches, eyes watering as he forces his body to relax and submits to Odo’s intrusion.

The close physical intimacy involved in literally intertwining parts of himself within another person awakens a wistful instinct buried deep within Odo, a primal need to link.  Unconsciously, Odo relaxes the telepathic boundary between them, so the physical barrier becoming semipermeable, albeit in a more superficial way than linking with a fellow Changeling.  A rush of hot electricity shoots into him from Quark, and Odo almost melts completely at that small taste of the powerful thrumming physical desire coursing through Quark.

The relaxed solidity required for linking, however, also has the unfortunate side effect of startling Quark.

Oh right, they’re supposed to be having humanoid sex.

Quark spits gooey Odo out with a disgusted look on his face.  “That was so gross, like having a limp slug in my mouth.  I didn’t know shapeshifters could suffer from that type of dysfunction, but assuming of course you aren't losing interest in my incredible technique, they make a hypospray for that.”

Chagrined and embarrassed, Odo sneers. “Do solids really enjoy this?  You pretending I’m a jumja stick?  This doesn’t seem particularly sexual.”

Quark huffs, and twists to stretch out his neck a little, before answering.  “I take considerable pride in my ability to change a ‘no I’m not doing business with you you reprehensible toad’ into a ‘yeah sure I’ll think about it’’ with the talented swipe of my tongue, and just because you can’t bother shifting a functional nervous system or maintain an erection don’t take that out on me.  I’ve had more satisfied customers than I can even count, thank you very much, and--”

“Wait, customers?”  Odo cuts off Quark’s defensive babbling.  

Quark’s eyes widen slightly.  “Forget I said anything--”

“You solicit sex in exchange for business deals, on a regular basis?”

Quark shrugs and averts his eyes, sitting back on his heels.  “Sure, it’s a traditional Ferengi deal-making practice, and one that potential business associates start to expect as part of a trade, particularly of someone of my talent.”  Quark glances back at Odo, affecting a lascivious smirk, but Odo just stares at him blankly, and Quark drops the smile with a small shrug, his voice quiet.  “Sometimes it’s the only way to get ahead.  Or to keep a burly Boslican’s fist from making acquaintance with my face.”

The thought of Quark, backed into a corner after one of his myriad hapless endeavors has gone awry, some barbarian threatening bodily harm if they don’t get whatever Quark promised, should be pleasant for Odo to consider, as a situation representative of Quark meeting harsh consequences for the illegal havoc he stubbornly sows.  

However, the image of Quark smoothing the situation over on his knees, his so-called “associates” using his body to satisfy their own needs and Quark letting them is entirely out of line with the type of order Odo cherishes.  

(Odo, unlike slimy smugglers and black market merchants, has made it clear to Quark that he isn't exchanging legal lenience for Quark’s warm, wet mouth around him.  He isn’t putting Quark in that type of uncomfortable situation.  It isn’t the same, even though Quark offered.)

An angry boiling twists through the core of him but in response to what piece of this not entirely surprising new information?  At Quark for engaging in such crude arrangements?  At the rampant illegality of this type of exchange?  At Quark’s conspirators for expecting this, for taking advantage of Quark's consistent desperation and spineless acquiescence in the face of possible profit?   

(What do they enjoy more-- Quark’s nimble hot tongue, or the twisted pleasure of having him under their thumb, like a Rafalian mouse with its tail trapped under a boot?)

Luckily Quark is even more ready than Odo to steer the conversation away from such ugly territory.  

“Are you just going to stand there gaping at me?  Second lesson-- or third or whatever-- stopping and starting too often loses momentum, so can we keep going now please?” Quark says with a scowl, impatient warble in his voice.

“I’m going to try something,” Odo says, and Quark nods warily, surprised Odo isn’t shutting him down.  

Odo gently strokes an inner ridge of Quark’s lobes, and Quark leans forward into the touch, eyes widening in surprise then fluttering closed.  Despite that Quark seemed to derive intense pleasure from the rougher treatment, Odo feels a responsibility now to ensure that this is a mutually beneficial exchange, to prove he isn’t taking advantage of Quark’s perverse need to please, to dispel the ugly hot feeling inside of him at the thought of those previous partners.

Odo may be unclear on whether mouths are erogenous zones, but everyone knows about the sensitivity of Ferengi ears.  Being in control in this situation-- of Quark, small and soft and pliant beneath Odo’s firm hands-- also means being in control of Quark’s satisfaction.  

A gentle rumbling sounds from the back of Quark’s throat, a soft purr, and, emboldened, Odo spirals his fingers outwards, growing them longer and thinner like tendrils of a vine climbing towards the sun.  He slithers the tendril-fingers in between the ridges of Quark’s large, sensitive ears to draw out louder purring warbles from Quark, searching for what elicits the most reaction -- tickling, prodding, gripping, stroking, flicking.

Quark nuzzles into Odo’s body, propping his weight against him as if the effort of holding himself upright is too much on his own, and Odo sprouts a large tentacle out from his side to wrap around Quark’s waist.  

This, however, is apparently one appendage too many.   

Quark squawk and pulls away, batting at the various tentacles.  “What are you doing?  How many hands do you have?  What are those things?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Odo drawls.

“No!”  Quark flushes tangerine.  “I mean… if it’s more enjoyable to you that way, then stroke me however feels good to you.  But most humanoids can’t spring tentacles out of nowhere, it’s freaky.”

Odo huffs.  “I’m not a humanoid.  I’m a shapeshifter.  I can’t not be a shapeshifter.”

“I’m sure tons of humanoids would be really into that, so uh yeah that’d be good practice.  Just be sure to give them a little warning, okay?  But I’m willing to uhh let you.  For your own sake.”

As if even more eager now to prove that this exercise is about Quark doing a favor for Odo, Quark resumes the blowjob.  Odo loops a supportive tentacle around Quark’s torso, then twists tendril-fingers delicately around and over and in between the various sensitive ridges and lumps of Quark’s lobes.  He strokes gently, feather-light like a caress, then harder and deeper, flicking at Quark’s ear hairs.  Quark responds by keening high and soft,  licking at Odo’s appendage almost reverently, hands kneading at the back of Odo’s legs like a Terran cat,  his face soft and open.

Odo feels himself melting in his core, a gooey tenderness blooming inside of him at sight of Quark’s beatific face below him, but this encounter has already gone far past what Odo’s normal comfort zone is, and engaging any longer would leave him too vulnerable.  He can’t open himself up to linking again, by accident or otherwise, and not with Quark of all people.

He also can’t shake the thought of Quark in the same position as he is now, on his knees for some brute, exposed like a raw nerve and not keeping his own vulnerability safe.  Odo could teach him a few lessons of his own, in that regard.  In any case, Odo has probably learned all he can from this situation now: Quark has gotten what he supposedly wanted from Odo.  There’s no point in continuing with this pretense.  

It’s for the best, for both of them, to stop now.

Reluctantly, Odo retracts his tentacles of all sizes from Quark, redressing instantly into his usual form.  “That was a very interesting lesson Quark, but I won’t have you distracting me anymore.  It’s time to go down to the security office.”

Quark, dazed, his cheeks flushed and mouth floundering agape, contorts his face in slow confusion.  “Wha-what? No no no you can’t leave me like this, please!  It’s-- the lesson isn’t done!”  Quark tries to stand up, but moves too quickly, and his knees give out.  Odo, alarmed, reaches out automatically but not fast enough, and Quark lands on his ass gracelessly.  Scowling on the ground, Quark stretches his arms and legs out in front of him, bones crunching and popping.  “Oof my joints aren’t what they used to be.”

Odo watches carefully as Quark stands up, slowly this time.  “Despite my better judgement, I indulged you in your… lesson, and I think I’ve gotten everything I needed to out of that experience.”

Quark’s chest heaves, and he blinks back watery eyes. “But you haven’t even-- you know.” Quark bunches his fingers together, then abruptly flings them open, mimicking an explosion.  “Or… well I guess maybe you can’t?” His face contorts in horror.   “Did you, I mean did you still enjoy it?  I was the best you’ve ever had right?”

“You know very well you’re the only one I’ve ever ‘had’,” Odo snipes.  Quark flinches, so Odo continues with a more gentle tone.  “It was… an intriguing experience.”  He nods stiffly in begrudging acknowledgement.

Quark flicks his eyes over Odo’s stalwart face, and Odo can almost see the gears in his head turning to come up with a new tactic.  “Well if it was that good-- and I know it was-- then well, you should-- I mean I could-- we can do more.  There’s more ‘intriguing’ things you could do to me.  You know, for your own exploration of humanoid relations.  I’m just looking out for you, of course.”  Quark shifts from foot to foot, tilting his head at Odo expectantly.

“You’ll still need to follow me down to the security office after this.”

“And there’s still time for me to change your mind.”  Quark waves hands dismissively, then clasps them together.  “Now… how many tentacles can you grow at once?  Because I have a good idea on where you can put them.”

“I thought you were teaching me how to have humanoid relations.  If you wanted to have sex with a Hamexi octopus, then you should have found one.  I'm not shifting just so you can gawk at me.”

“If I wanted to have sex with hewmon I would have found a hewmon.  You’re not humanoid, but I am, so… you’d still get the chance to explore my sexy body.”  Quark puffs his chest out, a lewd attempt at a sultry smoulder on his face, but Odo is drawn to the sight of a small protrusion tenting the front of Quark’s pants.

“That’s new.”  Odo cocks his head and squints.

Quark contorts his face, which darkens to a shade of deep orange.  “It’s not new, it’s been there the whole time, and unlike freaky changelings, Ferengi do need to come, so, if you could be bothered...”  Quark huffs.  “ Fine , your ability to shift tentacles isn’t weird at all, and I won’t gawk at you.”

Odo nods, folding his arms across his chest.  “Good.”  

“Besides it’s cruel and unusual punishment to leave me hanging here, you don’t want that on your conscience.”

They stare at each other a moment longer, then Odo moves towards him and reaches around Quark to unzip his pants from the back.  If the first step for a blow job was unfastening clothing, it’s a good guess that this would be next for whatever Quark wants.  

Quark, however, starts waving his hands about dramatically, hissing.  “What-- what are you doing?”

“Do you want me to take care of that or not?” Odo says, gesturing towards Quark’s protrusion.

Quark, flustered, sputters, “I-- but-- shut up-- okay okay FINE, but--”

Quark scrunches his face up, nervous and frustrated, but Odo doesn’t move, placidly waiting for Quark to figure out what the hell he wants.

Quark, flicking his eyes downwards and avoiding eye contact, peels off his jacket, then takes off his vest, boots, shoes, pants, and button-up, until he’s left in a short sleeve undershirt and leggings.  He clenches his fists as if restraining from throwing them across his body to hide it then steels himself to look back up at Odo, who has stood watching him motionlessly the whole time.  

Now who’s gawking,” Quark grumbles.

A gruff chuckle escapes from Odo, and Quark frowns.  With a fond smirk, Odo unfolds his arms and slides them under Quark’s shirt, breaking them into several smaller tentacles that loop them around Quark’s torso, twisting around his shoulders and arms, and finally flicking along the ridges of his ears.

Quark gasps, tension in his limbs dissipating, and Odo grips tighter with his tentacles to support Quark’s full weight as he swoons.  Quark is helpless in his grasp now, and Odo, overcome with that responsibility, sets himself to the task of drawing the most pleasure out of him.  Odo binds him, encircles him, strokes him wherever his tentacles touch, overwhelmed now with the peculiar desire to discover all the textures that comprise Quark-- his lumps and ridges and acres of smooth hairless skin.

Quark lets out a low yowl, then babbles without second thought.  “Now please , don’t stop this time... and maybe oh also you could do a couple tentacles holding my arms above my head, and well okay also one stroking my dick off and one, well, maybe if you’re interested-- you might be interested-- maybe one down, you know--”  Odo retracts his tentacles to pool around Quark’s middle, and Quark makes a bewildering gesture-- fingers of one hand looping to form a circle and two fingers of the other hand poking through it.

Odo’s widens his eyes larger and larger at Quark’s list of demands, tentacles jerking sharply under Quark’s shirt.  “ Quark … I’m not a-- I’m not a science experiment, some moldable object you bend to your will.  I have done some research, Quark, and humanoid intimacy is supposed to be about sharing yourself with a person because you want to be with that person not… using them for what they can do for you.”

“What, your Bajoran erotica?”  Quark scoffs.  “Pond sludge on a padd.”

“Respectable literature about humanoid affairs, Quark.”

Quark’s pulse is rapid beneath Odo’s tentacle resting on his chest, his breathing is shallow and quick, but he manages a frustrated growl.  “But you're not a human and you do shift, so wouldn't it be lying to not use that to your full ability?  Please, touch me, please.”

Odo searches Quark’s flushed face, open and pleading, then nods stiffly.  Odo pinches the strange soft points on Quark’s chest -- what is even the point of nipples for humanoids that don’t produce milk? -- eliciting a sharp yelp from Quark, then continues exploring the rest of his body.  He snakes them back around Quark’s arms, around his stomach, down under his leggings to twist around his thighs, and now Quark is completely bound, again helpless to whatever Odo decides to do.  

How strange it is that the solid, trapped in his breakable form, is the one who allows the Changeling to bend and shape him to his will, like putty in Odo’s proverbial hands.

Quark’s blood runs hot and pounding beneath this enclosure, throat purring, and Odo tentatively slithers to that region in between, the one humanoids don’t talk about in polite company but that all his literature alludes to as essential to the act.  He watches Quark’s enraptured face, eyes screwed shut, as Odo slides around the front of him under the leggings, through a labyrinth of tightly layered fleshy folds until he finds a protruding twisted knob, like a thumb, wet and hard and waiting for him.  

He pulls on it, gentle, and Quark whimpers, so Odo grips harder, sliding up and down.  Quark twitches beneath him, and Odo snakes another tentacle under towards his back, between the clefts of the butt, and Quark moans, guttural, a primal sound emerging from deep within.  

Odo, suddenly understanding Quark’s earlier gesture, presses in, slowly, gently, and Quark tries to rock against him while Odo holds him in place.

“More please, please,” Quark gasps, and Odo continues carefully exploring the tightness of Quark’s clenched cheeks, the puckered heat of his entrance, his knobbed dick twitching and pulsing.  “More, keep going, please.”

But Quark is so tight, the opening narrow, and Odo is completely out of depth with the limits of fragile humanoid bodies to risk pushing too quickly.  He proceeds with caution and care, smoothing the exterior of his tentacle until it’s slippery, then languidly begins to open Quark below, while at the same time rubbing his ears, stroking his folds and protrusion, caressing every inch of him.  

Finally, with Quark begging Odo to just fuck him already, he relaxes, and Odo slips in, Quark's breath ragged.  

“Move, damn you to the Eternal Vault, move .”  

Heat pours off of Quark-- under Odo’s grasp, around him, within him-- and Odo slides out slowly, reducing the friction of his surface to ensure Quark’s comfort, noting the rings of tight muscles around him, the reverberation of Quark’s pulse pounding through the whole of him.  More confident now about the intricacies of Quark’s body, Odo is quick to thrust back in, then out again, adjusting to Quark’s response.

Entwined so closely within and around Quark-- jerking, gasping, yielding compliantly to his every touch--  Odo again feels himself melting, but his time does nothing to stop it.  He allows some appendages to liquefy and link on contact -- the white hot veins of Quark’s pleasure searing any lingering doubts -- while keeping others solid to continue their stroking and thrusting.  Aching with the feel of Quark, he’s not entirely sure where parts of him stop and Quark begins, or who is feeling what and when, and for several brief perfect moments there’s the silent paradise of losing himself completely, one with The Link, at peace in a way he can’t achieve by himself--

Then Quark tightens, his muscles contracting and pulling, yowling horrendously, and suddenly it’s over, Quark’s body limp and boneless in Odo’s grasp.

Alarmed that perhaps he broke the Ferengi -- or was this what that mimed explosion meant? -- Odo resolidifies and lays Quark down on the ground.

“Quark!  Quark!”  Odo shouts, shaking Quark, but Quark mewls, a small pathetic sound, and pulls Odo down to lay beside him, quivering.  Quark flutters his eyes open to look at Odo’s panicked face, and his chest starts heaving.  Great pearly tears well up in his eyes, overflowing to run down his cheeks, and heavy sobs wrack his body.

“No one ever-- they always leave before-- I never-- I’ve never felt that good, it never feels that good--” Quark jabbers, but most of it is incomprehensible beneath his hiccuped crying.

“Quark!  Get ahold of yourself, Quark!”  

This is another humanoid peculiarity that Odo has no idea how to react to, other than walking away and leaving someone better to deal with it, but there’s no one else, and after having the small man docile and meek in his arms, physically vulnerable in every way, Odo is inexplicably committed now to the pathetic situation in front of him.  

Is this a thing that happens after sex?  For all humanoids, or just for Quark?  A scene flashes in his mind of Quark, on his knees, as one of his thuggish associates stands above him, zipping up their pants and leaving without a word, Quark alone and shaking. Odo rubs Quark’s back awkwardly, trying to remember how the Bajoran heroes in his novels react to their swooning emotional damsels.

“Quark!  Quark, what is wrong with you?!”

Quark just sobs louder clutching at the front of Odo’s uniform, his skin bright and blotchy, and then in Odo’s mind the solution snaps into place, how Glaru Flenn cured the crying of the maiden Belada after saving her from the snapping teeth of a voracious hara cat--

Odo presses his lips firmly against Quark’s wet and snotty mouth.  Quark breath catches in his throat, as Odo moves his lips in a hard kiss.  Quark stops blubbering, and stills, the hysterical energy draining out of his body, then with a shiver nuzzles his nose against Odo so their lips break apart.

“Quark,” Odo repeats softly. They lie against each other, limp and spent.

Quark peers at him, a peculiar look on his face.  “Why in the name of the Blessed Exchequer did you do that?”

“That’s what Bajorans do, kissing.  You were out of control,” Odo says, pinched and defensive.  “It’s romantic for them.”

“You’re not a Bajoran.  And Ferengi don’t kiss; it’s like you’re trying to eat me.”  He tries scowling, but the softness in his face can’t hold the sour look.

“Changelings don’t kiss either,” Odo says.  “Or I don’t.  I haven’t.”

“I know,” Quark says softly.  “Well, final lesson.  That was okay I guess, for a first time, but don’t worry you’ll improve with practice.  Not everyone is as forgiving and patient as me.”

“Really,” Odo says dryly.  “I heard you say something about this was ‘the best you’ve ever felt.’”

“Lies and hearsay, I’m disappointed in you Odo, you’re usually better than making things up,” Quark reprimands, but his voice wavers. He snuggles in closer, trembling slightly.  “Now I suppose you’ll want to arrest me and drag me down to a holding cell, but I’m telling you, what happened with that shipment of Bolian crystalware wasn't my fault --”

“What?  I needed to interrogate you about a brawl between a Nausicaan and an Andorian in your bar yesterday, over a poisoned drink.  Now I know you have good reason to harbor a grudge against Nausicaans generally, but this particular fellow--”

“Oh, pshaw, I actually had nothing to do with that.  Nausicaans are allergic to Andorian ale; he must have drank from the wrong cup is all.”

“Hmm.  Wait, what was that about Bolian crystalware?”

“I uhh I didn’t say anything.  You need to get your hearing checked; those tiny lobes of yours don't seem to be functioning.”

“Hrmph, I'll be looking in these matters further... Also I clearly need to increase surveillance on your business affairs.”

“You already tap all my communications!  And hang around the bar way too often for someone who never spends any latinum.  What could you do?!”

“I’ll start by running background checks on everyone that haggles over deals with you; the… situations you mentioned before are highly unethical, and you shouldn’t be put in that position.”

“It’s ethical by Ferengi standards, commended even.  What are you, jealous?”

"I have a vested interest in upholding Bajoran and Federation laws, even if don't press charges on any transgressions I uncover.  Any personal feelings I may or may not have don't factor in at all."

They stay entwined and blissful on the ground for some time longer, bickering to their hearts’ content.