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” Say, you have been wearing that necklace a lot lately Mr Garak. Is it a cardassian style?”
“Why yes, my dear, well spotted! And it’s just Garak, if you please. This is a regional style of jewellery, popular in my home province. I’ve been feeling somewhat nostalgic of late, I will confess, and donning the apparel of my home makes me feel connected to my people there. Oh, but I do prattle on! Let’s talk instead of that devastating coat! I simply must give you a discount, should you choose to purchase – it’s as if I made it with you in mind!”
…
“I like your, eh, necklace?”
“My thanks! It’s my own design that I’m trying out. I’ve decided to look into making accessories as well as garments, branching out you know? The Promenade is a competitive space nowadays, with the traffic from the Wormhole bringing in all sorts. Would you like to see my sketches?”
…
“Garak, I have to ask: is that… a modified cardassian prison-transport collar?”
“Lieutenant Dax, you surprise me! Why on Prime would I, a plain and simple tailor, feel the need to keep on my person at all times a device that disrupts unsanctioned transporter-locks and alerts me to any attempted kidnapping attempts by nefarious forces? That, my dear, sounds positively paranoid and not like me at all. No, it’s just a fashion choice, I assure you.”
…
“Doctor Bashir, I hope I’m not being too forward…”
“Hm?”
“Well, I’ve noticed that you always carry a key on a chain around your neck. I’ve seen it when we scrub in, and I was wondering... well, what it’s for? Is it a Human custom?”
“Ah! Well, it’s not a common Human practice as such. It’s the key to my most valued possession. I can’t risk ever losing it, so I keep it on me always.”
“Oh! Eh, I see. Only, I thought the Federation didn’t use currency?”
“We don’t. This leads to something far more valuable than latinum. Priceless.”
“…I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what that is?”
“That is correct, Nurse Jabara.”
-
Garak hurries to lay the last hand to the table setting. Julian will arrive soon, and before then Garak must be in position. He takes one last look at the dinner set up, moves a covered dish just so, and decides that it is adequate.
The com pings – Julian is leaving the infirmary for the day. It will only take him minutes to get to the quarters, so Garak needs to hurry up. He walks into the bedroom and takes off his tunic, shoes, and socks. Julian likes Garak barefoot, and while the Cardassian would prefer to simply be naked at his master’s feet, it would be too uncomfortable for the Human to keep the common room at a hot enough temperature to make that feasible in the long run. Barefoot and bare chested is the living room compromise – anything else is a special occasion.
Having taken the chain-leash down from it’s hook by the bed, Garak pads to the entrance of the quarters and finds his spot. There he kneels, clips the leash to the collar he’s yet to take off since locking it in place, and closes his eyes. He breathes in.
Breathes out. Waiting for Julian, knees on the floor, hands in his lap, neck bent.
The doctor is a strict lover, insisting Garak use the thick mat to protect his knees whenever he needs to wait in position for any longer time. Being adamant that Garak simply must use the wedge-pillow to redistribute his weight if Julian runs more than ten minutes late. Garak tried to cheat in the beginning, to endure and suffer for his love. Julian will hear nothing of it and is not above screening Garak with a medical tricorder to check his joint status and circulation. So stern, the dear doctor is about Garak's health.
The chirp at the door as the code is keyed in. Garak holds his breath and lifts the hand holding the leash. Opening his eyes but keeping them downcast. This is always a thrill. Knowing that anyone could walk past in the corridor, catching a glimpse of Garak in supplication like this.
Knowing also that Julian would never open the door if there’s a risk of an unwitting spectator seeing – something about ‘the informed consent of the voyeur’. Garak doesn’t care about that, but then he doesn’t have to, because Julian takes care of it. In this shared realm of theirs, between the bulkheads of these hallowed quarters, Julian takes care of everything.
Here he is now. Stepping inside and locking the door behind him. Hanging up his med-kit bag on the hook by the door, rolling his shoulders and inhaling deeply.
“Mmmm, it smells wonderful!”
Then he takes the leash from Garak’s offering hand and takes a step into his space. Garak leans his face into the Human’s crotch, nuzzling and breathing in deeply, as Julian chuckles and pets his head.
“I missed you too, sweetie.”
Garak’s hands stays obediently in his lap – he has not been given permission to touch – but the old spook is feeling cheeky today. He can feel Julian’s dick taking some interest, and as if by accident, Garak starts to rub his face up and down juuuust so… Not to encourage any friction, of course. That would be naughty.
Julian tugs at the chain, a mild chastisement. He pinches Garak’s aural ridge and turns his face up -away from the half-chub the Cardassian wants so very badly to suck to full mast. He meets Julian’s eyes from his inferior position, looking as innocent as a newly hatched Regnar. Julian takes a performative step backwards, away from Garak’s reach.
“Don’t give me that face, you sneaky little thing! I know what you want, and you’re not getting it tonight.”
Garak huffs in irritation – no talking on the kneeling mat – and looks off to the side indignantly. At the sight of his frown, Julian smiles in insufferable smugness. He grabs the ring on Garak’s metal collar and tugs on it, forcing his lover’s face towards him. Holding a firm grip, he bends down and places a featherlight kiss on the Cardassian’s lips. Garak opens up like a flower, pliant and hungry. But the doctor pulls away again, straightening his back.
“I’m starving, and your cooking smells delicious tonight. Let’s not have your efforts on our lovely dinner go to waste by letting it get cold. Do you need a hand to get up?”
Garak shakes his head and rises in a smooth motion. It’s been a while since he has needed help up from kneeling, but Julian keeps asking. He knows that his lover would never deign to request help should he need it, Garak supposes.
The former spy hates to admit it, but the diet and exercise regimen the doctor has him on is doing wonders for his previously deteriorating fitness. Oh sure, he still has a lush chest and some softness to his form, but his endurance and energy levels are much improved.
However much of his Starfleet officer’s stipend Julian is spending on Holosuite time Garak does not, and does not care to, know. There's the doctor’s own excursions and adventure-time in various company of course, but beyond that he has also made a standing booking for Garak three times a week.
It is too cold on station, making the Cardassian somewhat lethargic. This is apparently bad for exercise efficiency according to the ever vigilant Doctor Bashir. But more to the point, it made it almost impossible to motivate Garak to keep up his training regimen.
So a while ago, Julian had gotten a program that is essentially a scorching hot sand pit and a selection of holographic enemies. There was no way the doctor could know about Garak’s formative pit-fighting years at the prestigious military boarding-school on Prime. Being back in the pit, though, warm and full of energy, is a thrill Garak hadn’t known he was missing. Julian’s orders to bask for half an hour before calling on opponents had seemed excessive at first, but the vitality the heat wakes in his blood can not be denied.
In any case, rising from kneeling was easy these days.
Garak heads to the table and pulls out Julian’s chair for him. The Human sits down and sighs in contentment.
“Stars, I needed to get off my feet for a bit. What have you made us today, love?”
Julian unclips the leash from the collar, it will only get in the way at table, and drapes it over the back of his chair. Garak lifts the lid of the biggest covered dish.
“This, sir, is Tojal. Actual Tojal, cooked with non-replicated spices mind you – not that bland nonsense you find at the Replimat.”
“Oh wow, Elim! How did you get hold of the genuine spice blend? I’ve been looking for weeks –I wanted to surprise you.”
Julian’s eyes light up, and Garak smiles his most enigmatic smile.
“Oh, I have my ways my dear. All perfectly legal, I assure you.” A beat for emphasis. “…mostly legal, anyway. But let’s not dwell on that. Instead, turn your attention to the side dish of home-cooked yamok sauce.”
“So that’s what’s been stewing on your hotplate for three days! If you didn’t tell me soon, I was going to make you.”
Garak lifts an eye-ridge.
“And ruin my gift to you? Tsk.”
Julian shakes his head and smiles.
“I suppose I have to accept that I fell inlove with a man of some mystery. Now, stop talking and serve me! I can’t wait to try this.”
Tojal scooped and yamok sauce artfully dribbled on Julian’s plate, Garak once again kneels by the younger man’s side. This part of their little rituals is Garak’s indulgence – the Human would inhale his food in two minutes flat left to his own devices. But food is a far too easy poison vector. Even if Garak himself happens to be the cook this time, he will not be neglecting his tasting duties. Getting to do it on his knees is just a perk of being unobserved at home.
The Cardassian opens his mouth and accepts the spoonfull of food held out to him. He swallows, holding Julian’s eyes in his gaze. The look on his master’s face is so unbearably fond it makes Garak want to avert his eyes, but he doesn’t. Tries to accept the 'being cherished', as he is supposed to. He swallows.
“It’s safe, sir.”
Julian strokes his cheek.
“Thank you, Elim. What would I do without you.”
Garak huffs a little. He doesn’t need talking down to, there being obviously no actual danger here. But he nods solemnly anyway.
“Now take your seat so we can eat.”
Garak does. The meal flows in pleasant conversation. Julian asking about the history of the dish, it’s significance in Cardassian culture, the providence of the different spices. Garak is all too happy to educate the man in all things Cardassia, which includes trashing his latest attempt at understanding Meditations on a Crimson Shadow.
The argument is getting heated towards the end of the dinner, to the point where Garak figures he might just get what Julian declared off limit’s before… But when he slides his naked foot suggestively up the doctor’s leg underneath the table, Julian smiles devilishly and clicks his tongue.
Garak stills immediately. The click is a signal, subtle but absolute: disengage, stop, await further instruction.
Julian tuts.
“Tsk, tsk. None of that. I told you that you would not be getting what you want tonight, love. In fact, I have a Holosuite-date with Miles later. Now clear this up while I take a shower. I have some things to talk to you about before I leave.”
Disappointed, frustrated, and shamefully turned on by the refusal, Garak gets on his feet. Grumbling and huffing he starts to clear the dishes, when Julian catches him in his arms from behind. Garak relaxes into the grip immediately, as Julian kisses his ear and whispers:
“If you’re good and truthful with me, I might let you help to prepare me before I go. Think on that, before you decide to pout all night.”
Then the insolent, shell-wet hatchling pinches Garak’s ass, laughs, and jogs away to the refresher before Garak can even contemplate retaliation. The indignities he suffers for that Human! Never mind his flushing ridges at the thought of prepping Julian for his play-date with Miles…
When Julian returns the table is clean, the leftovers squared away, and a cup of coffee waits on the sofa table. On the kneeling-mat, moved to rest beside the sofa, waits one fearsome Cardassian patiently. Obediently, at least. His ridges are all visibly blueing, the wait doing its trick of churning Garak’s waters. Knowing that Julian is naked just behind the ‘fresher door. Knowing he has a plan for the night...
The Human has wrapped his hips in a towel but is otherwise gloriously nude. Dewy and extra warm from the hot hydro-rinse. He heads over to the chair by the dinner table and picks up the leash first thing. Then he clips it to Garak’s collar, gets seated in the sofa, and pats the cushion beside him, tugging at the collar.
Garak gets seated beside him, but his master pulls on the chain to indicate he want’s his lover’s head in his lap. Laying down, Garak obliges. Julian strokes his Cardassian's facial ridges and forehead-crest sweetly, teasingly. Then he speaks.
“Did you really think you would get away with it, darling?”
Garak’s eyes shoot up, a tenseness springing to life in his shoulders.
“With what, sir?”
He asks innocently.
“What did I tell you about being truthful, hm?”
Garak considers this, licks his lips. Oh, Julian likes it when he flashes his strong, forked tongue…at least if the twitching of his cock beneath Garak’s head is anything to go by.
“Before I explain… how much do you already know?”
He says it teasingly, but something harsh is lit in Julian’s gaze by the coy question. Shit, he’s serious. This is Sir looking down at him, not My Dear.
“I thought there was not much to know, but now I’m getting worried. I was referring to your unsanctioned shot of kanar at Quarks after your training session yesterday. Is there more, Garak?”
Fuck. Inside their quarters, Elim is a sweet and coddled thing. Garak is a testy, bridle-shy riding-hound who frequently needs reminding of his place.
This is exhilarating. He will be found out. Weeks of obfuscating, and he is caught! Finally! His vent starts to flush and plump. He licks his lips again, and Julian draws a pointed breath.
“How, might I ask, did you come to know about my wayward little drink? I thought you said you would never misuse your officer’s privileges simply to keep an eye on me?”
The dodging is angering Julian, and it’s a rush! Has he found out about the data yet? If not, Garak is tempted to keep the game of minor disobedience going for a bit longer…
“And I didn’t, Garak. I simply came to check in on you on my break yesterday, as it happened to coincide with your workout-time. I was going let you fuck my hand before I had to go back to work, since you’ve been so good about exercise lately. Imagine my surprise when I spotted you at the bar, ten minutes before your allotted timeslot was up.”
The doctor is steel and piercing focus, and his hand holds a tight grip on the ring in the collar. Keeping Garak pinned. The tendrils of exited fear is making Garak’s seam start to part.
“Oh my. I seem to be caught. And I was being so sneaky about it and everything.”
There is no humour in Julian’s smile. His face is dark, and Garak is starting to get worried that he has miscalculated.
“It would not be up to your usual standards, I agree. Why would you be so blatantly disobedient, I asked myself, when you know that I check your vitals on the wrist-monitor I make you wear for training. I would obviously detect your blood-alcohol levels immediately.”
Oh shit. Ohhhhh, shit. Garak is well and truly fucked.
“Just to confirm my suspicions, I said nothing, and went to check your data as usual yesterday after dinner. I’m sure you remember.”
Garak manages a weak nod.
“Imagine my further surprise…” Julian bends forward, slowly, menacingly. One hand buried in Garak’s hair, the other holding a vice grip on the collar. “…when there was no indication of alcohol ingested in the data. Furthermore, you apparently have time-bending powers, because according to the monitor, you were doing cool-down stretches during the exact same minutes that I caught you drinking at the bar!”
Garak stares transfixed by his master’s gaze. He has truly fucked up, Julian is incensed. Mucking with the medical equipment was apparently a bridge too far.
He is still desperately turned on, blooming open further and further.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
The cold steel of the doctor’s voice is like a knife to the jugular. A cool threat, wielded expertly. Garak loves this man. State and all her children, Julian will be the death of him and it will be right.
“Well… you would have caught me much sooner if I hadn’t tinkered with the readouts. Commercial grade vital-monitoring tech is really laughably crackable.”
“How long have you deceived me, and how badly have you tweaked the numbers? If you lie to me now, Garak, I swear I shall take my years’ worth of collected overtime off to personally oversee your every meal and workout routine. I’ll take you to the Infirmary and do a full system scan every single day, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. I’m CMO. If I say you have a rare Cardassian condition that requires my constant supervision, you do. Consider this, as you decide how to answer me.”
Oh, he is irate! A vengeful god indeed, and Garak a pitiful sinner, prostrate at his altar. Nothing but the truth will do. How devastatingly embarrassing, being broken by this soft creature’s loving interrogation. Garak hasn’t even been threatened with pain, just evermore time and attention!
Time and attention Julian really ought to be giving to his own life. His work, his friends, his projects. Garak couldn’t possibly monopolize the doctor’s every minute, as appealing as that might sound in the abstract. It would be horribly selfish, and a poor way to serve him indeed. Garak simply must confess, for Julian’s sake.
…also he really doesn’t want to go to the Infirmary.
“I have had exactly two fingers of kanar at Quarks during the ten last minutes of my holosuite booking for the past five weeks. Nothing less, nothing more. I swear to you, my love, my life, my keeper and my master: I am telling you the truth.”
He feels vivisected under the doctor’s gaze. Those brow and green eyes, usually so soft and fond, cuts him to the bone surely as a laser scalpel. Julian looks like he wants to carve Garak’s braincase open and poke around in the grey matter, checking for the unvarnished truth himself among the sparking neural nets.
Failing that, he lets go of the tight grip of Garak’s collar and leans away from the Cardassian’s face.
Said Cardassian is desperately trying not to evert.
“I chose to believe you, Elim. But this infraction will not go unpunished. I can’t have you think that it’s acceptable for you to lie to me about your health. You are mine, and you do not have the right to be uncareful with yourself. That’s horribly disrespectful towards me, you do understand that, right?”
Garak feels chastised like a child. He knows that this is a manipulation. If Garak won’t care for himself for his own sake, he will be guilted into doing it for Julian’s. But State, if it isn’t working! He suddenly feels so very guilty. Like a stupid hatchling, testing the boundaries thoughtlessly, without understanding that the State decrees her rules for the wellbeing of her citizens. Had those illicit sips of alcohol really been worth dishonouring Julian?
Garak’s body has never been his own. The very notion that it might be, that Garak might serve no higher purpose than to simply exist for his own sake, is violently horrifying. Existentially frightening.
Whenever Julian has guiltily brought the idea up that Garak isn't actually the Human's to own, that of course, should he ever want his freedom...Garak has shut it down before the man could spout any more distasteful nonsense - he will hear none of it, thank you very much! Julian always looks so relieved when he can stop pretending like it's all a game. Like he isn't overwhelmingly, obsessively territorial when it comes to his love's mind and body.
Garak had belonged first to Cardassia, now he belongs to his love; his keeper and his master. He really doesn't have the right to mistreat his body. It's not his to mistreat– Julian takes such care and pride in Garak’s body and health!
The Human radiates satisfaction whenever he buffs Garak’s scales and notes how much shinier they are now, how much healthier. He preens whenever Garak gets a compliment from a customer, for his own stylish dress or for an example of his quality craftsmanship. He looked at him like a doting fool when the Cardassian had to step in at ops to muck around with security codes that one time, being all mysterious and competent and Julian's.
Garak is Julian’s pride and joy, and what did he go and do? Break an important rule just to provoke.
Shamefaced, Garak averts his eyes. Suddenly it is very easy not to evert, the urge having disappeared completely.
“I understand, sir.” He finally manages.
Julian’s expression softens somewhat. Still stern, but not with that tightly controlled fury behind his eyes and voice.
“Good. That’s good, Elim.”
He sighs and stars to pet Garak’s head again. Softly, comfortingly.
“I partly blame myself, you know. I’ve let punishments become too much fun. I know how you secretly get off on being denied release, and you’re to big of a masochist for a thorough spanking to be any sort of threat. Hell, I think we shall start to put that in the ‘treat’ column from now on.”
If he were human, Garak’s cheeks would be flushing bright red. As he is not, his blueing ridges are doing the embarrassment-display. Julian notices and starts to tease them with his fingers again.
“With consequences like overstimulation and holding position – things you secretly enjoy, and don’t try to deny it – it’s no wonder you’ve been primed to seek to misbehave. I’ve practically trained you for it! But this, messing with my medical readings? That was not okay. I must have full control over everything to do with your health, my love. That is non-negotiable. And that is why your punishment has already been settled, and it’s not something you’ll like I’m afraid…”
Garak suppresses a tremble. He has no idea what’s in store for him, and the not-knowing is a heady mix of turn-on and dread.
“Before I consign you to our fate, I think we need a few new rules, though. It’s in your nature to be mischievous, to buck at the saddle and bend the laws to your will. I love that about you, and would never want to stifle your sexy, sneaky, infuriating spirit. I have clearly not given you enough avenues to safely rebel. Changing the med-data is decidedly out of bounds… so from now on I will be significantly stricter with you. Can you handle that?”
Can a heart stop from pure arousal? Garak is sure he’s read about that somewhere. If he dies now, at least the doctor can figure out what was going on when he performs Garak’s autopsy…
“Yes, sir. I can handle whatever you throw at me – I’m very adaptable.”
If the cheekiness tickles Julian, the Human doesn’t let it show on his face.
“Good. Remember that you said that, because there will be many new regimes for you in the near future. I’ve made lists. And a spread sheet. But for tonight, let’s start with just one new edict.”
Garak is trembling with anticipation. He can’t breathe, can’t think. Can’t be anywhere else but right here, in this moment.
“From now on, and for the rest of your life unless I change my mind… you are on total orgasm control. That means absolutely no touching, no cuming, no even everting without explicit permission from me. Wet dreams are not exempt… but it carries a lighter punishment if you report it to me immediately. From this moment on, your prUt might as well be locked up in a cage for how available it is for you. It’s not for you, anymore. It’s for me, and only for me, unless I say otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
Garak feels like he’s falling. Like the world is trembling. It’s too strict! It’s impossible!! Not touching is obviously technically doable, but everting is an autonomous response after a certain point. He can’t not disobey…oh. Ohhhhh!
“I understand perfectly. But tell me, sir, what happens should I fail to follow orders and, say, evert illicitly while servicing you?”
Julian smiles a cardassian smile, then. Reptilian, with teeth.
“Well, if you insist on being disobedient, my dear, I shall have to bend you over my knee for a good spanking. Or perhaps force you to hold position while I work in the next room. Or maybe I’ll even edge you until you cry, and beg, and crawl on the floor, desperate to as much as hump my foot. Do you get the idea?”
He does. State and Duty, he does. New rules mean new ways to skirt them, new ways to be rebellious, to be found out… and to be Put. In. His. Place.
It’s a miracle if Julian can’t smell Garak’s arousal by now.
“You paint a most striking picture, sir.”
“Excellent. Then we are in harmony.”
Julian smiles for the briefest moment. Then he is back to stern judgement.
“Now, get in position to receive my verdict.”
Julian removes his hands, and Garak sits up, dazed. The leash is still in Julian’s grip, and it feels like a tether to reality. He is safe, as long as the Human holds him, keeps him. There will be unpleasantness now, but Garak is not forsaken, not cast out. Not exiled from Julian’s care. Master is holding the leash.
Garak slides down to the kneeling-mat on the floor. Then he prostrates himself before his judge. Kowtow, Julian calls it. Face and palms to the ground, back and neck bare, feet tucked under his ass.
Julian stands up with measured deliberation. Towers over Garak like a Hebetian god of old, like the State incarnate.
“Elim Garak Subatoi Bashir. Tomorrow at thirteen hundred hours to the dot, you will come to the Infirmary for a general check-up. You will be well-dressed, courteous to the nurses, and you will not tell anyone any tall tales about why you’re there. I will perform your physical to get a new - accurate - baseline, and you will let me take all the tests I want. You will be completely cooperative and answer all of my questions to the best of your ability. When I am satisfied, you may leave. Not before. Do you understand your sentence?”
Garak does. It’s a horrible thing he is being tasked with, but no more terrible than Gark’s infraction. Proportional. He takes a breath, finds his voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“What do we say when we receive correction?”
Garak throbs in his sheath again. Julian is rarely this forceful, this harshly inescapable. It does not remind Garak a bit of Tain, because that would be weird. Deeming Garak too slow in his response, Julian jerks the chain. Just a reminder. Garak exhales, finds his gratitude.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome.”
Julian exhales as well, and his voice is softened once he speaks again.
“Now that the unpleasantries are done with, you have a task to perform for me if I recall?”
Garak sits up to kneeling and lifts his face eagerly. Julian smiles and reaches his hand down to Garak’s face. The supplicant leans into his master’s touch, grounding himself in affection.
“You did mention preparations…?”
“So I did!”
Julian smiles wickedly and turns to walk to the bedroom. Garak barely has time to get on his feet before he pulled after him by the leash tugging at the collar. The Human is arranging himself on the bed, using pillows to prop himself up comfortably. He has shed the towel and is on full, glorious display.
“Might I enquire about your plans for tonight then, Julian my dear?”
Garak can't stop staring at his master’s ass, and he can feel himself dripping in his pants. Julian lies down on his belly, cushion underneath his hips to angle said ass upwards. Garak really can’t be faulted for raking his eyes over it.
“Oh, you want details? I can give you details, love. Fetch the lubricant and the... Actually , fetch the whole toy-box. The leash should be long enough for you to reach the closet.”
“Hm, we’ll see.”
Garak has to stretch out with his foot and grab hold with his toe-claws, but he does manage to get hold of the toy-box from the bottom shelf without strangling himself. As he does, Julian starts to talk.
“Miles and I are going to fly historic fighter-planes and shoot down enemy vessels over a major Earth capital tonight. Once we’ve saved the city and narrowly escaped with our lives, adrenaline surging and hot from the fire fight… We’ll land on an empty field... Wait, how’s your lesbian manicure? I haven’t checked on it in a few days.”
Garak snorts, derisively, and uncaps the bottle of lubricant.
“I can be trusted to follow much more complex orders than keeping the claws on my first three fingers of my right hand short and blunt, you know. I’ve been known to be quite able figure out the necessary operational details once the mission objective has been revealed to me, sir. Your lovely bottom has nothing to fear from my claws, I assure you.”
“See, I much prefer it when you focus your mischievous spirit on being a snarky bitch, Elim! Keep it up and see what it gets you. Now show me your hand.”
With a long-suffering grumble, Garak acquiesces and holds out his hand for inspection. Julian runs the pad of his thumb over Garak’s blunted fore-claws and nods in satisfaction.
“Good job! It just like I left it after trimming you. You’re getting proficient at this.”
The praise does patently not fill Garak’s stomach with hot, fluffy satisfaction, because that would be childish. Still, he makes a small, pleased grunt and retracts his hand from the doctor’s grasp.
“Landing on a field, you say?”
“Right! Yes, once the battle is over - and we both miraculously make it out alive - we’ll land on an empty field and celebrate. Miles is bringing in real whiskey, and I will just happen to have a military blanket in my plane that is uncharacteristically soft to the touch for the era. We’ll get a bit tipsy, and before the adrenaline rush wears off… I’ll push Miles up against his plane and slooowly sink to my knees… You can start preparing me now, Elim – I cleaned everything in the ‘fresher earlier, so go right ahead.”
Garak is panting, hurting from having been on the brink of eversion for so long. He should be incensed at hearing about his mate’s infidelity, he knows this. A military wife might have to suffer the knowledge of her husband’s local mistresses when he’s out on campaign, but only the cruellest soldier would rub his honoured spouse’s nose in the details of his indiscretions.
The upper echelons of society operated on different rules of course, a Legate or highly positioned Gul might house a few mistresses and lover-boys within reach easy of their own estates, but it was something that was simply not discussed openly in polite society. Blackmail material.
Garak should be jealous. Hell, he is jealous… Just not nearly as jealous as he is horny, though. The thought of his master on his knees for another man… He risks a request.
“Permission to doff my pants first, sir? They are getting rather…moist.”
“Hmm, are they now?”
Oh, that perverted, human despoiler of all virtue! He is so sultry and pleased with himself, lying with his ass on display, waiting to get serviced.
“If you can be good and not touch yourself, you may get naked before you start. But I’m getting impatient and I need to leave pretty soon for my date, so hurry up.”
Garak does. He lets the pants fall to the floor and leaves them there, and then he gets in position behind Julian. He places one palm on either cheek and spreads the Human open. Then he runs his tongue over that tightly closed little bud, sending shivers down Julian’s spine. He groans.
“Ohhh, you sneaky old…old lizard…hnggg.”
Garak smiles and wiggles his strong tongue downwards, teasing inside the tiniest fraction.
“I -I’ll allow it, but just for a bit. Fuck, you feel so good… It will take you too long to open me like this, and I need to be very well… stretched for tonight…”
Garak reaches out with his tongue and flicks Julians funny, external testes. Then he laves a long lick all the way up the perineum, landing on the puckered little hole. Julian whines deliciously. Garak retracts.
“Stretched wide, he says. I wonder why that might be?”
Garak lets go of the firm little cheeks – the man really doesn’t have any jiggle to speak of – and starts to slick up his manicured fingers, warming the lubricant in his hands a bit before spreading it on Julian’s entrance.
“Mmmm, good… work me open as quickly as you safely can. You see, when I have Miles pinned... I am going to open his annoying historically accurate fly... and put my mouth on his massive hog. Seriously, the man is huge. If he were Klingon he would have nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll suck and lick that monster to full hardness… I can’t get it down my throat, but…I think that you might be able to… hm. I’ll consider that for the future.”
Garak is pressing his thighs together, forcefully stopping himself from everting. He massages the rim of Julians opening, as he has many times before, and is soon down to the first knuckle of his thumb. He circles it around, loosening the muscle, steady and methodically. Garak has studied this extensively, made himself able to serve with proficiency. Quarks holoprograms come with anatomically realistic options for the porn NPC:s if you pay extra.
He has bloomed open, and hearing Julian considering what use he might put Garak’s un-hinging jaw and lack of gag-reflex to, as if Garak himself has no say in the matter, is an unbearable turn on.
“Please, sir… Evert… I must… May I evert, pleeeease? Sir?”
Julian thinks about it for what feels like an age. Then he relents, magnanimously.
“Yes, love. Evert. Now.”
Garak lets go, and the relief of sliding free is almost painful after holding it in for so long. The pain is sparkly and shallow and delicious. He sighs in arousal.
“Thank you… thank you my love…”
“You’re welcome. Just don’t touch yourself, remember? Now, more prepping and less talking. I did mention that Miles has a huge cock, yes?”
“Yes sir.”
Free from the strain of holding himself tucked, Garak dives in with gusto to his task. He pushes and pulls carefully, coaxing the walls open. Making Julian’s flesh slacken to pliability. When he adds a second finger and starts scissoring, Julian hums in deep satisfaction, relaxing into the mattress. Then he resumes talking.
“Once he is good and hard and dripping with my drool – because I might not be able to get him down, but you better believe I’m going to try – I’ll suddenly… stop. I’ll crawl over to the blanket on the grass, get on my hands and knees… I’ll have Miles worked up into such a mad frenzy, he won’t have the patience to work me open before he takes me in a wild, hard rut. That’s where you come in, darling. You are going to make me so open and ready for him, aren’t you, Elim?”
“Yes…yes…”
Garak adds the third of his de-clawed fingers, fucks Julian very slowly and deliberately with his hand. Is O’Brien’s cock thicker that even this? The thought is dizzying, infuriating.
Hot.
Julian, panting into the pillows, keeps up his infernal yapping. Garak wants desperately for him not to stop. No, wait… dammit, he was going to lie to himself about that, but didn’t have time before the thought slipped up to his conscious mind.
Why on Prime is Garak getting desperately aroused to the thought of a huge-dicked Human fucking his lover like a lower species of mammal in the zoo?!
“Oh god, oh yes, just like that. Get the biggest plug in me, love. I replicated a new one since Miles and I started to add casual fucking to our playdates… I need to be kept stretched for his big, hard cock, you see… He will have just enough brains left to lube up, then he’ll need to get inside me…”
Garak leaves his hand inside Julian’s hot, grippy warmth as he rummages blindly in the toy-box with the other. The dreadfully named “butt-plug” (honestly, Humans!) was indeed noticeably larger than what Garak was used to. It tapered a lot more than a Human phallus would, though, closer in shape to a Cardassian prUt actually. With enough lube and slow, careful insertion, it should fit. Garak scents the air unconsciously, imagining what the Chief’s dick might taste-smell like…
In order to slicken the toy up, Garak needs both his hands. Leaving the tight embrace of the Human’s insides feels like a terrible loss, but Garak has a job to do. Slowly and deliberately, he starts to do it, sliding the stretching plug home. He takes frequent pauses, letting Julian adjust to the intrusion, watching as the beloved man breathes and makes himself relax to the sensation of being thoroughly filled. Suddenly, something inside of Julian lets go, he cramps, grips the toy tight… and then it slides all the way down to the anchor base in one smooth motion. Julian exhales blissfully.
“Theeeere we go. Mmmm. I’ll just stay a moment longer, let things settle a bit. I can’t wait to surprise Miles later – he’ll be so scandalised when he realises that I played the entire battle with a plug up my ass!”
Garak strokes Julian’s skin reverently, pats him down like a riding-hound after a race. His neglected prUt is complaining strongly, but the Cardassian is disciplined. He can follow orders. He will not touch himself.
As long as he is permitted, he’ll keep touching his master, though. Stroking his warm, soft skin. Imagining what he might look like hot and inflamed with battle-fever… open and wanton and slicked up… a human prUt pistoning in and out of the slack, willing hole, hips slapping against ass cheeks, pulling Julian’s hair as he comes inside…
He doesn’t whine, because Cardassians do not whine… but the sound of pathetic arousal that escapes Garak’s mouth is not entirely unlike a whine, if he’s to be totally honest. Julian, the absolute bastard, chuckles. Then he turns around and sits up, looking a Garak smugly.
He wants to lunge at the Human, lick that sanctimonious expression away… But cardassian discipline is superior, and Garak stays put. Like a good little riding-bitch, he sits pretty in his collar, leashed and trained and obedient...
The notion almost breaks his composure. Julian, that prick, smiles a radiant smile and unclips the chain. He puts the leash back on the hook by the bed, and stretches out on his back. He pats the mattress beside him.
“Come here, you. I have time for five minutes of cuddling before I have to get into costume. You did very well at preparing me for Miles, so I think you’re due a reward.”
Slotting himself to Julians side, Garak can’t suppress a bucking of his hips. Staying on the brink for this long without further stimulus is absolutely maddening. Julian folds him in his arms and kisses the top of his head.
“I’m working on warming Miles up to the idea of letting you watch him fuck me, you know. I’m pretty sure I can get him excited about it if you just give me some time… Would you like that, Elim? Sitting beside and watching as he thrusts into me?
Okay, so it might be a whine. Garak’s traitorous hips jerks in another aborted undulation.
“Mmm, I thought you might. I love your little prUt day to day, sweetheart, the way the curve is just right for stimulating me inside… but sometimes you just need a good filling, you know? Getting stretched to he very limit, taken over and pounded into the fucking ground… Oh, but you are too cute, my love!”
Garak is definitely whining. The mortification. The horror! He keeps whining, nuzzling into Julian’s chest.
“Okay, okay. You have been good. Tell you what, I’ll stay here for another three minutes. In that time, you have permission to hump my leg. When time’s up I’ll rise and get ready for my date, no matter if you’ve cum or not. If your rains have not fallen, you must simply wait for me to return tonight before doing anything about it. Ready?”
Garak nods.
“Time starts… now!”
I does not take three minutes for Garak to utterly debase himself, grinding and frotting his prUt on Julians leg like some crazed… he doesn’t finish the though, because he cumes in an embarrassingly short time of humping.
He feels like he’ll burn to the ground with shame, and his ridges are no less flushed, and Julian is laughing at him so fondly, and Garak is corrupted through and through because he loves this.
“We may have to train you to hold out longer, that was a pitiful showing, dearest. Truly, like an over- excited teen. You are so adorable when you’re embarrassed. Go hide our face in my crotch if you don’t want me to look at you, darling. Suck me a little, you’ve earned it... but don’t get me off! I only have some two minutes left before I… mmmh, god you’re such a fucking whore, I love you. Ugh! So good, such a talented, greedy little mouth…”
Cardassians do have perfectly functioning gag-reflexes.
Garak desensitised his years ago.
Julian pants, pets Garak’s head, and keeps spilling filth from his lips as he bucks into his reptilian lover’s willing throat.
“…should keep you in a cage in my office, have you suck me between patients… bring you to Risa, pass you around like a party favour – I’ll be fucking king of the beach… oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god… wasted as a spy, you should have been some lecherous old bastard’s kept boy, glued to his prUt day and night…no, no one else can own you, you’re mine… mine… Mine.”
Much too quickly Julian clicks his tongue and taps Garak’s forehead-crest. Instantly, Garak withdraws, the reflex making him obey before he has fully registered why his mouth is now tragically cock-less. Dazed, he meets Julian’s gaze. The Human’s dick is so hard it’s curving up towards the planes of his stomach. Garak want’s to swallow him again, wants to drain Julian’s balls, to use his hand to fuck the Human with the toy and milk him for every drop.
This is not to be.
Julian gets up, shaking his head to clear it and rolling his shoulders.
“Whooo, right! I’m certainly primed to go shoot at stuff for the next two hours!”
Then he turns to Garak.
“Get some work done, babe, and wait up for me. I want you to clean me out when I get back, because I’m planning on being intoxicated and thoroughly dick-drunk.”
“I will, sir.”
Julian smiles and leans down for a kiss. It’s heated and exited, but brief. Then the doctor dries off his leg from Garak’s spend with the shed towel from earlier, and sets about to get dressed for playing pretend. Garak sits on the bed and waits for him to finish, then he follows Julian to the door. There, he kneels. The mat is still by the sofa, but Garak won’t be holding this position for long so it’s okay.
Julian, decked out in a ridiculous, yet weirdly sexy, fly-boy jacket and hat, takes his position in front of Garak. He takes a breath, centring himself. Then Julian grabs the ring of Garak’s collar, possessive but gentle.
“Wait up for me, and be ready to clean me out and put me to bed when I come back. You are not allowed to touch yourself in my absence, and I expect the sheets to be clean and the bed to be made fresh when I return. You may have one snack off the approved ‘late-night-peckish’-list if you get hungry, but no caffeinated drink of any kind. Nor any other stimulants, don’t try to be slick with me! I will not be giving up my progress with your sleep cycle. Do you remember your instructions, or do you need a repetition?”
Garak is so relaxed. He feels at home here, at Julian’s feet. It’s the correct place for him. He has never felt this cared for, didn’t know such a feeling was possible.
“I remember and obey, sir.”
“Good. Now, what are you?”
The ceremonial call-and-response soothes the remaining sting of sending Julian off to be fucked by someone else. His master doesn't repeat it too often, only when he want’s to truly reassure Garak of his place, of his worth.
“Yours, sir. I am yours.”
“That is correct. You are mine, and you are my most valued possession. Nothing else in this universe comes close. What else are you?”
Oh, this is the hard one. The one Garak can barely make himself say. But he does, because Julian asked.
“…loved. I am loved, sir.”
“Yes. You are so very, very loved, Elim. Never doubt it.”
Garak blinks a few times, moisture threatening to creep to his eyes. Then Julian kisses him goodbye, and Garak rises to walk out of view from the entrance. Before Julian can disappear completely, Garak calls out:
“Have a fun date-night, my love!”
Julian winks, a lopsided grin on his face as he turns in the door to respond.
“Oh, count on it!