crowdog66 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crowdog66) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
doctor_tailor2012-04-02 01:37 pm
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-04-02 01:37 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "Impulse" 11/?
Title: Impulse 11/?
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2036
Summary: An unusual incident at lunch leaves Garak utterly dumbfounded — and hopelessly hooked.
Notes: Set between "Profit and Loss" and "The Wire".
Part One here.
Part Two here.
Part Three here.
Part Four here.
Part Five here.
Part Six here.
Part Seven here.
Part Eight here.
Part Nine here.
Part Ten here.
*************************************
Between Cardassians the touching of another male's genitals was an act of dominance, but judging by the Julian's attitude he felt that Garak would be servicing him by doing so, and with an effort Garak was able to embrace the mental adjustment necessary to view this activity in that alien light — but it took no effort whatsoever to enjoy his servitude, or the sight of his only friend panting and writhing beneath him.
The shaft was silky-hot between his hands, lacking natural lubricant but nonetheless very sleek… well, perhaps not entirely lacking, there was a little clear fluid leaking from the tip, which was exquisitely sensitive if the gusty sigh Julian emitted and the way he pushed his hips briefly upward when Garak ran his thumbs over it was any indication. His gorgeous eyes, even darker with arousal, remained fixed on Garak's upper body in a way that was most disconcerting: as if he was taking pleasure in what he saw, which Garak found highly unlikely, but perhaps among Humans such a fiction was considered only polite. He had no illusions about his own appearance, his stout build further padded by a sedentary life; from a Cardassian point of view he'd never been conventionally handsome even in his prime, not the way Julian was, serpent-lithe and narrow-hipped — or Gul Dukat for that matter, who, say what you would about his personal failings, certainly cut a dashing figure and knew how to carry himself.
And he knows it, too, Garak spared a quick thought to muse, which is part of his ongoing problem. Julian also knew he was beautiful, and could be equally insufferable about it, but… well, Garak could forgive Julian a great deal, or find his shortcomings charming rather than annoying. What had Julian's mother said about love making all aspects of the beloved lovely? It was a distinctly unCardassian sentiment, but it was a sign of how far Garak had strayed from his correct path that he could comprehend its essential truth.
Why, just look at how enthralled he was with this man's lack of adornment! Not a ridge to be seen or felt, although he did have the tiniest seam running up the underside of his erection, a texture that Garak found intriguingly anomalous. And he was such a uniform color, only his lips and his cock betraying a darker and rosier hue, with the lightest dusting of mammalian fur over most of his body, denser on his thighs and his forearms and clustering thickly in his armpits and at his groin.
Garak had been attracted to people of different species and genders in the course of his life but had confined himself to sexual congress with his own kind: it was Order policy to be sexually continent, if not outright celibate, to avoid the entanglements of passion, and he'd always complied with that injunction. The men who had knelt before him and bared their napes had never moved him the way this trusting boy did, making him long to tremble with the pressure of strong brown hands caressing his sides and curiously tracing the lines of his scales, making him close his eyes when they ran up into his hair and curved around his skull, making his spine weaken and bend when they pulled him down for a kiss, then guided him down between the Human's bent knees, down that hot smooth torso past the strange nubs of nipples to the tapering strip of fur that led from the navel to the root.
Resting his weight on his elbows, he took hold of Julian's hips and let himself be directed. He was intrigued by the scent of the shaft itself and wanted to taste it, but Julian's fingers were still sunk in his hair, pushing him lower with a husky murmur: "Pay some attention to my balls first… lick them… oh yes, just like that…"
Salt-sweat and curls met his tongue, shockingly intimate. He applied himself assiduously to the task, framing those incredible fragile organs in the "V" between thumb and forefinger and lifting them to more easily caress them with his mouth, and Julian's breathing quickened and deepened noticeably, his thighs opening even more: submissive from a Cardassian point of view, but his hands on Garak's head were clearly directing him, and the clash of signals sent electric jolts racing through his nervous system. When Julian tugged him up he went willingly and this, oh this was something no Order agent would ever do, a sexual act that no decent Cardassian male would consider performing unless forced at gunpoint, but Garak sank his mouth down on that alien shaft without a murmur of protest or a second's hesitation and was rewarded by Julian's gasping cry and the tightening of fingers in his hair, pushing him down another couple of centimetres.
"Oh, that's…" Julian was panting, his thighs quivering, then tightening, thrusting even more of him between Garak's lips. "The hissing… my God…!"
Garak made a sound that he hoped conveyed both amusement and the proper degree of subservience, and continued to lick and suck, occasionally applying an edge of teeth for variety. His technique was unpolished but appeared to strike the right note, because he'd only been working at it for perhaps thirty seconds when Julian's hands clenched in his hair and pulled him forcefully off; looking up, he saw the dark intensity in his lover's face, the gleam of white teeth thinly bared in a primal expression of lust, and was torn between the urge to look away submissively and the desire to gaze forever.
"Is it nice and wet?" Julian growled, his tone sending a white-hot shiver down Garak's spinal ridges in a way that made the scales rise and tingle.
"Yes," he breathed, unable to break free of that commanding gaze — and not wanting to.
"And are you ready to be fucked?"
The raised scales laid flat again in an instant, his whole body sinking closer to the mattress and his trasekt barely breaching its tightly clenched slit, a sweet sliver of hypersensitized wet flesh burning in contact with his undergarments. "Yes…"
Julian nodded toward the headboard and released him. "Get up there, then. On your back."
Garak obeyed, turning to his left and rolling over, his head and shoulders coming to rest on one of the larger pillows. Cat-quick, Julian followed and ended up looming over Garak on his hands and knees, the weight of his pelvis settling on Garak's hips, pinning him down with a gaze of almost palpable force. Staring up at the Human, Garak was briefly aware of all the ways he could possibly kill this member of an enemy military from his present position. There were six of them. The tiny muscles beneath every scale on his body tightened, a hint of a growl permeating the kishaja as his inherent dominance made a break for the surface.
But then Julian smiled.
"Close your eyes," he instructed, "and put your hands above your head." And something just as deeply ingrained as dominance responded: Garak did as he was told, his heart sinking as he felt and heard Julian rummaging around under the nearby pillows. Within seconds something soft but tight was enclosing each wrist; his arms were pulled to each side, first the right, then the left, each positioning ending with the click of a metal ring locking into place around one of the pillars of the headboard. The sounds had a finality to them that was strangely calming; he let his head fall back and drew a deep breath, then pulled experimentally at the restraints. They held fast.
It was all an illusion, of course. Even if the cuffs were real, the bed was not: a few words to the computer and this entire setting would vanish, leaving Garak free. He wasn't really bound. He wasn't really enslaved.
Julian curved both hands around Garak's face, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. "Not too tight?" he inquired.
Garak opened his eyes and looked up in astonishment: it was a question that no Cardassian would have asked under the circumstances. "No," he responded cautiously, wondering what game the Human was playing.
"Good," Julian smiled with such sincerity that Garak realized there was no ulterior motive involved. Then he grew serious again, his hands sliding over Garak's shoulders to his upper arms. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable —with any of this."
That left Garak only more puzzled. It wasn't his place to speak — or shouldn't have been, but curiosity got the better of him. "Uncomfortable? Why would that matter?"
Julian blinked, then scowled. "Why would it —? Of course it matters!"
Garak closed his eyes again and turned his head to the left, baring his throat again, and spoke in a softer register: "Of course it does. The game is yours — and so are the rules. No, my dear, you're not hurting me in any way. But —" A pause full of brief but savage internal struggle. It was perverse to yield, but even harder to speak his shame aloud. "But that, too, would be your right, if you so desired."
After a moment Julian insinuated his right hand between Garak's cheek and the pillow, turning his head back again. "Look at me," he commanded, and Garak did, letting that alien beauty sheathe itself in his heart like a golden blade. "Is that what you want? For me to — to hurt you? To punish you?"
He looked so concerned that Garak smiled to reassure him. "I'm not afraid of pain, Julian — and coming from your hands, it would be a gift." Even, I suspect, without my implant to transform suffering into pleasure… "What I want is your rule, no matter how you choose to impose it. Why do you think I've given myself to you, if not to be commanded? Surely even you, non-Cardassian that you are, can understand that?"
Julian was studying him with every appearance of deep thoughtfulness. He nodded. "I can," he murmured, and bent to kiss Garak's mouth with a quick dip of his agile tongue. "But it's not in my nature to cause pain to those I love. I'm not going to harm you —" The quality of his voice changed, taking on a steely undertone beneath its dovelike murmur. "— but rest assured, I will expect you to accept whatever I choose to give you." His hands were on the move again, gliding down to Garak's chest, and Garak found himself relaxing under that touch against which he could mount no defence. "And I'll expect you to follow my every order — question them if you like, but in the end, you will obey. Is that understood?"
"Yes." His eyes had drifted closed again, the better to appreciate that heated touch as it ran over his stomach and started tugging at the top fastener of his trousers.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Julian…"
"That's better." With a surgeon's deftness he figured out the trick of opening Garak's pants, then sat up and shifted back enough to pull the fly all the way down. Garak still hadn't everted, a situation that abruptly changed when Julian stretched out on his right side and snaked his hand inside both pants and thermal underwear: the sensation of that warm skin on his most secret ridges was too much, and with a choked whimper he slid out into Julian's grasp.
Julian promptly looked down to see exactly what he'd found. "Oh," he said with clear delight, "just look at how wet you are." He pushed down the underwear to get a clear field of operations and closed his fingers tightly around Garak's trasekt, running his grip up and down over the encircling ridges, gliding on the copious lubrication. "For me…. my God, it's gorgeous!"
To be bound and touched so brazenly was inflaming beyond all reason: Garak had to turn his face away, and if he could have hidden it in the pillow he certainly would have. He'd never imagined that shame could feel so unbearably sweet.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Twelve here.
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2036
Summary: An unusual incident at lunch leaves Garak utterly dumbfounded — and hopelessly hooked.
Notes: Set between "Profit and Loss" and "The Wire".
Part One here.
Part Two here.
Part Three here.
Part Four here.
Part Five here.
Part Six here.
Part Seven here.
Part Eight here.
Part Nine here.
Part Ten here.
*************************************
Between Cardassians the touching of another male's genitals was an act of dominance, but judging by the Julian's attitude he felt that Garak would be servicing him by doing so, and with an effort Garak was able to embrace the mental adjustment necessary to view this activity in that alien light — but it took no effort whatsoever to enjoy his servitude, or the sight of his only friend panting and writhing beneath him.
The shaft was silky-hot between his hands, lacking natural lubricant but nonetheless very sleek… well, perhaps not entirely lacking, there was a little clear fluid leaking from the tip, which was exquisitely sensitive if the gusty sigh Julian emitted and the way he pushed his hips briefly upward when Garak ran his thumbs over it was any indication. His gorgeous eyes, even darker with arousal, remained fixed on Garak's upper body in a way that was most disconcerting: as if he was taking pleasure in what he saw, which Garak found highly unlikely, but perhaps among Humans such a fiction was considered only polite. He had no illusions about his own appearance, his stout build further padded by a sedentary life; from a Cardassian point of view he'd never been conventionally handsome even in his prime, not the way Julian was, serpent-lithe and narrow-hipped — or Gul Dukat for that matter, who, say what you would about his personal failings, certainly cut a dashing figure and knew how to carry himself.
And he knows it, too, Garak spared a quick thought to muse, which is part of his ongoing problem. Julian also knew he was beautiful, and could be equally insufferable about it, but… well, Garak could forgive Julian a great deal, or find his shortcomings charming rather than annoying. What had Julian's mother said about love making all aspects of the beloved lovely? It was a distinctly unCardassian sentiment, but it was a sign of how far Garak had strayed from his correct path that he could comprehend its essential truth.
Why, just look at how enthralled he was with this man's lack of adornment! Not a ridge to be seen or felt, although he did have the tiniest seam running up the underside of his erection, a texture that Garak found intriguingly anomalous. And he was such a uniform color, only his lips and his cock betraying a darker and rosier hue, with the lightest dusting of mammalian fur over most of his body, denser on his thighs and his forearms and clustering thickly in his armpits and at his groin.
Garak had been attracted to people of different species and genders in the course of his life but had confined himself to sexual congress with his own kind: it was Order policy to be sexually continent, if not outright celibate, to avoid the entanglements of passion, and he'd always complied with that injunction. The men who had knelt before him and bared their napes had never moved him the way this trusting boy did, making him long to tremble with the pressure of strong brown hands caressing his sides and curiously tracing the lines of his scales, making him close his eyes when they ran up into his hair and curved around his skull, making his spine weaken and bend when they pulled him down for a kiss, then guided him down between the Human's bent knees, down that hot smooth torso past the strange nubs of nipples to the tapering strip of fur that led from the navel to the root.
Resting his weight on his elbows, he took hold of Julian's hips and let himself be directed. He was intrigued by the scent of the shaft itself and wanted to taste it, but Julian's fingers were still sunk in his hair, pushing him lower with a husky murmur: "Pay some attention to my balls first… lick them… oh yes, just like that…"
Salt-sweat and curls met his tongue, shockingly intimate. He applied himself assiduously to the task, framing those incredible fragile organs in the "V" between thumb and forefinger and lifting them to more easily caress them with his mouth, and Julian's breathing quickened and deepened noticeably, his thighs opening even more: submissive from a Cardassian point of view, but his hands on Garak's head were clearly directing him, and the clash of signals sent electric jolts racing through his nervous system. When Julian tugged him up he went willingly and this, oh this was something no Order agent would ever do, a sexual act that no decent Cardassian male would consider performing unless forced at gunpoint, but Garak sank his mouth down on that alien shaft without a murmur of protest or a second's hesitation and was rewarded by Julian's gasping cry and the tightening of fingers in his hair, pushing him down another couple of centimetres.
"Oh, that's…" Julian was panting, his thighs quivering, then tightening, thrusting even more of him between Garak's lips. "The hissing… my God…!"
Garak made a sound that he hoped conveyed both amusement and the proper degree of subservience, and continued to lick and suck, occasionally applying an edge of teeth for variety. His technique was unpolished but appeared to strike the right note, because he'd only been working at it for perhaps thirty seconds when Julian's hands clenched in his hair and pulled him forcefully off; looking up, he saw the dark intensity in his lover's face, the gleam of white teeth thinly bared in a primal expression of lust, and was torn between the urge to look away submissively and the desire to gaze forever.
"Is it nice and wet?" Julian growled, his tone sending a white-hot shiver down Garak's spinal ridges in a way that made the scales rise and tingle.
"Yes," he breathed, unable to break free of that commanding gaze — and not wanting to.
"And are you ready to be fucked?"
The raised scales laid flat again in an instant, his whole body sinking closer to the mattress and his trasekt barely breaching its tightly clenched slit, a sweet sliver of hypersensitized wet flesh burning in contact with his undergarments. "Yes…"
Julian nodded toward the headboard and released him. "Get up there, then. On your back."
Garak obeyed, turning to his left and rolling over, his head and shoulders coming to rest on one of the larger pillows. Cat-quick, Julian followed and ended up looming over Garak on his hands and knees, the weight of his pelvis settling on Garak's hips, pinning him down with a gaze of almost palpable force. Staring up at the Human, Garak was briefly aware of all the ways he could possibly kill this member of an enemy military from his present position. There were six of them. The tiny muscles beneath every scale on his body tightened, a hint of a growl permeating the kishaja as his inherent dominance made a break for the surface.
But then Julian smiled.
"Close your eyes," he instructed, "and put your hands above your head." And something just as deeply ingrained as dominance responded: Garak did as he was told, his heart sinking as he felt and heard Julian rummaging around under the nearby pillows. Within seconds something soft but tight was enclosing each wrist; his arms were pulled to each side, first the right, then the left, each positioning ending with the click of a metal ring locking into place around one of the pillars of the headboard. The sounds had a finality to them that was strangely calming; he let his head fall back and drew a deep breath, then pulled experimentally at the restraints. They held fast.
It was all an illusion, of course. Even if the cuffs were real, the bed was not: a few words to the computer and this entire setting would vanish, leaving Garak free. He wasn't really bound. He wasn't really enslaved.
Julian curved both hands around Garak's face, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. "Not too tight?" he inquired.
Garak opened his eyes and looked up in astonishment: it was a question that no Cardassian would have asked under the circumstances. "No," he responded cautiously, wondering what game the Human was playing.
"Good," Julian smiled with such sincerity that Garak realized there was no ulterior motive involved. Then he grew serious again, his hands sliding over Garak's shoulders to his upper arms. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable —with any of this."
That left Garak only more puzzled. It wasn't his place to speak — or shouldn't have been, but curiosity got the better of him. "Uncomfortable? Why would that matter?"
Julian blinked, then scowled. "Why would it —? Of course it matters!"
Garak closed his eyes again and turned his head to the left, baring his throat again, and spoke in a softer register: "Of course it does. The game is yours — and so are the rules. No, my dear, you're not hurting me in any way. But —" A pause full of brief but savage internal struggle. It was perverse to yield, but even harder to speak his shame aloud. "But that, too, would be your right, if you so desired."
After a moment Julian insinuated his right hand between Garak's cheek and the pillow, turning his head back again. "Look at me," he commanded, and Garak did, letting that alien beauty sheathe itself in his heart like a golden blade. "Is that what you want? For me to — to hurt you? To punish you?"
He looked so concerned that Garak smiled to reassure him. "I'm not afraid of pain, Julian — and coming from your hands, it would be a gift." Even, I suspect, without my implant to transform suffering into pleasure… "What I want is your rule, no matter how you choose to impose it. Why do you think I've given myself to you, if not to be commanded? Surely even you, non-Cardassian that you are, can understand that?"
Julian was studying him with every appearance of deep thoughtfulness. He nodded. "I can," he murmured, and bent to kiss Garak's mouth with a quick dip of his agile tongue. "But it's not in my nature to cause pain to those I love. I'm not going to harm you —" The quality of his voice changed, taking on a steely undertone beneath its dovelike murmur. "— but rest assured, I will expect you to accept whatever I choose to give you." His hands were on the move again, gliding down to Garak's chest, and Garak found himself relaxing under that touch against which he could mount no defence. "And I'll expect you to follow my every order — question them if you like, but in the end, you will obey. Is that understood?"
"Yes." His eyes had drifted closed again, the better to appreciate that heated touch as it ran over his stomach and started tugging at the top fastener of his trousers.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Julian…"
"That's better." With a surgeon's deftness he figured out the trick of opening Garak's pants, then sat up and shifted back enough to pull the fly all the way down. Garak still hadn't everted, a situation that abruptly changed when Julian stretched out on his right side and snaked his hand inside both pants and thermal underwear: the sensation of that warm skin on his most secret ridges was too much, and with a choked whimper he slid out into Julian's grasp.
Julian promptly looked down to see exactly what he'd found. "Oh," he said with clear delight, "just look at how wet you are." He pushed down the underwear to get a clear field of operations and closed his fingers tightly around Garak's trasekt, running his grip up and down over the encircling ridges, gliding on the copious lubrication. "For me…. my God, it's gorgeous!"
To be bound and touched so brazenly was inflaming beyond all reason: Garak had to turn his face away, and if he could have hidden it in the pillow he certainly would have. He'd never imagined that shame could feel so unbearably sweet.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Twelve here.
no subject