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doctor_tailor2012-02-25 12:00 pm
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-02-25 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "Visitations" 6/?
Title: Visitations 6/?
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2048
Summary: Julian didn't seem too alarmed when Garak showed up in his quarters in the middle of the night during "Cardassians". Why not?
Notes: 1) Set before, during and after the S2 episode "Cardassians". 2) Involves D/s with SSC taken into consideration. 3) This is turning into a series of incidents in relation to specific in-canon episodes; thus the chapter count is now uncertain.
WARNINGS: Under the cut and whited out in case people would like to be surprised.
Part One here.
Part Two here.
Part Three here.
Part Four here.
Part Five here.
The full set of warnings (in order of appearance in the story): Dominance/submission, nipple play, bite marking, threats of bondage, testicle spanking, age difference.
*************************************
The quality of the silence that followed was expectant, with an undercurrent of menace gleaming beneath it like a razor thinly sheathed in silk — and he hadn't released his controlling hold on the back of Julian's neck. After a moment of waiting to be allowed to sit up, Julian loosened his grip on the pillow and rotated his arms awkwardly, reaching back to hook his thumbs into the waistband of the pajama bottoms and, with what he hoped was the right degree of lingering slowness, strip them down over his hips. He had to hollow his back and hitch his pelvis upward a bit in order to do it, a position that practically presented his ass on a silver platter: he felt utterly, shamefully displayed — and it was all so hot that he could barely stop himself from whimpering yet again.
He could actually feel Garak's gaze on his brown skin as it was revealed centimetre by centimetre; the Cardassian's right hand had come to rest on the back of Julian's right knee, and Julian could feel his fingers tighten fractionally as the blue fabric crested the rise of his buttocks and started to slide down the other side. The waistband of the pants caught briefly on the hard hot length of his cock, forcing him to wiggle a little to work it free, and Garak purred again, this time in inarticulate approval, and oh God, I must be blushing down there, even though the cool air was raising goosebumps that made him tense even more, and shiver. By the time the waistband was at the point Garak had specified Julian was feeling more naked than he'd ever felt in his life — but he waited, his heart beating rapidly in his throat, and kept his ass elevated in a blatant offering.
"Well done!" Garak said softly after a moment; his hands left the back of Julian's knee and Julian's neck, and Julian's fingers clenched into fists around the material of his pajamas as the Cardassian's cool hands enclosed his waist and ran slowly back over his hips, until they curved around his own hands and, with a deft tug, coaxed them open and guided them back up to the pillow again. He clutched at it blindly, his eyes still closed, surrendering to the sensation of falling. "I knew you'd have a marvellous natural talent for this," Garak was murmuring, and his hands were moving again, tracing the contours of Julian's biceps, then running up to his shoulders and back down, "for giving yourself to me," leisurely down, over Julian's shoulder blades and ribs, making him want to tremble, "for needing a firm hand."
"Y—" But before he could finish that sigh the caress of Garak's fingertips sliding into the hollow between his external obliques and rectus abdominis sent an unexpected ticklish thrill through him: he caught his breath, trying to bite back the shivery gust of giggles and mostly succeeding. Garak paused in his ministrations, and Julian had barely enough time to realize how much trouble he might be in before those clever grey fingers repeated themselves, making him squirm outright and gasp: "Oh God, Garak, no, please —"
"I had no idea you were ticklish, my dear."
"I'm — ahhaha! — I'm not, usually, it's just — hmph! — oh don't, please—!"
"Well, that's something to keep in mind, certainly." He slid his hands up onto Julian's back with firm soothing pressure, digging his fingertips in just a little in a pointed way that effectively overrode the cascade of ticklishness he'd set in motion. "For later," he promised, and Julian settled down again, as much as he could anyway under the circumstances.
"You wouldn't, would you?" he chattered as Garak's hands started their slow savouring progress down his body again. "Tickle me, I mean? Isn't that rather —"
Quick as a snake, Garak bent and bit him right where his right internal oblique muscle sank into his waist — sharply enough that Julian yelped in protest. "What did I say about a gag?" he muttered, punctuating the threat with a gentler nip.
"I… I'm sorry, I get a bit —" He closed his mouth tightly and confined the rest of his response to a quick nod.
"Better," Garak praised, running his hands down to Julian's hips, shifting down the bed a little to apply another bite to the terminus of the right erector spinae muscle. Then another matching one on the opposite side. Then another, on the point of the gluteus maximus muscle where it attached to the thoracolumbar fascia — this one sharper again, sending a pulse of heat racing down to Julian's groin and almost driving another whimper from his throat. The growl that Garak emitted in response, soft but primal, thrilled him to his core as those strong hands closed around his hips, lifting him up a little further. "Now hold still, darling boy." A laugh, low and dark: "I won't make you bleed, you have my word."
There was definitely a pattern to the biting: Julian had enough presence of mind left to determine that much, and that pattern seemed to follow the ridges that adorned male Cardassian buttocks — which was just fine with him. Although he'd never considered his own ass a particularly erogenous zone before, the attention that Garak was paying to it, lips pressing and sucking, sharp teeth and the stroke of a nimble tongue over the spots that might bruise, was driving him almost out of his mind. He clutched at the thin pillow and tried his best not to squirm, although he completely gave up on fighting the urge to whimper only seconds into the game, and the cries he uttered after particularly intense bites quickly became quite shameless. His cock, hanging free, throbbed and burned and twitched with the fitful tightening of his abdominal muscles — sadly neglected, and soon he was panting: "Please… please, Garak… oh God, please…"
"Mrm?" A mumble around a mouthful of reddened skin.
"Touch me!" He pushed forward with his hips: only a centimetre or so, but Garak growled more sternly and pulled him back into position again, administering an admonishing nip. "Please, just a — ohhhhhh…" as Garak's right hand closed around him — but did not caress.
The Cardassian raised his head a little, and Julian could hear the roughened quality in his usually silky voice: "Do you promise you won't disgrace yourself again the way you did last time?"
"Oh, oh yes… I promise…"
A slow tight stroke, making Julian tremble. "Do you promise that you'll only let yourself go when I give you permission?"
"I promise… please, just —" Coherence vanished with a whine as Garak's hand began to move, sheathing him in a way that managed to be more wildly exciting than his own hand ever could; he started to push forward into it but Garak's grip became punishing, encircling the base of his cock and pulling him sharply back again.
"Doctor."
"I…" Oh, he was throbbing, burning, hot and dirty and needy, and Garak would give him exactly what he needed — if only he was good. There was a word he could say that would end this and let him finish himself off as quickly as he liked, but it wasn't just release that he craved: it was this, command and control and willingness and surrender, so he breathed miserably against the pillow: "I'm sorry, so sorry — I didn't, I'm a very bad boy, I didn't mean —"
"Bad?" Garak was a chameleon indeed, his tone of voice shifting from disciplinary to affectionate in the space of a single word. "You? Oh, my dear… no!" He leaned up to press a kiss to the hollow at the very tip of Julian's spine, cradling his balls in the palm of his hand for a moment, cupping and squeezing them. "You're the least 'bad' man I know — that I've ever known, I daresay." His breath on the sensitive skin he'd just kissed was making Julian shiver, an effect that only increased when he ran the tip of his tongue down the gluteal cleft to the rise of the buttocks, then whispered again: "Your problem has never been a lack of virtue — your problem is impulsiveness, a fundamental lack of control." Another squeeze of his balls, sharper this time, prompting a little gasp. "That is what I will teach you, if you'll give yourself over to me."
"Yes…" But he was frowning now, feeling shamed in a way that echoed the miseries of the day just past — loss of control, humiliation, a man dead by his hand…
"My poor darling!" Garak's voice, soft as velvet, drew him back to the present moment before the memories could fully break the surface of his mind. "I keep forgetting that you're so young — and that life impresses itself upon you so deeply." His hand slipped forward again, lightly enclosing Julian's cock, stroking it in a manifestly tender way that began to pull Julian out of his disquiet and back into his own flesh. "You have to trust me to know what's best for you, Julian — and you do, don't you?"
"Yes!" Not a second's hesitation in that admission, as foolhardy as it might seem in the cold light of day.
"Yes," Garak repeated almost hypnotically, "and you trust me to instruct you in the ways of both pleasure and pain." He bent his head again and bit the curve of Julian's left buttock, his lips lingering, the teeth within them so sharp that Julian jerked and bit back a pleading gasp. "And I will, sivharal, my beautiful exquisite boy — if you'll only let yourself come to me, without doubts and without conditions. If you'll only let me have you."
And then it was biting again, and kisses, and a sly serpentine hand teasing him, then gripping him and gliding over him, filling him with dark sensual fire that slowly built to a consuming intensity… on and almost unbearably on, until he was crying low in his throat and writhing shamelessly, all doubts forgotten, clinging desperately to the thin edge of control… until after a seeming eternity Garak finally whispered a sweet command against the small of his back — "Now, my beauty! — and it overflowed, washing him clean as it burst the confines of his skin. His mind blanked out in the white-hot rush, and when he came back to himself he was lying flat on his belly in the warm wetness of his own semen, drawing deep replenishing breaths as Garak, still fully clothed, massaged his waist and his lower back.
"Oh…" he managed to mumble blearily.
"Welcome back." He sounded amused and, Julian fancied, more than a little proud.
"Did I —" He couldn't even seem to raise his head from the pillow to look Garak in the eyes. "Was that better?"
"Much, my dear." He moved his caresses to Julian's sensitized buttocks, which felt as if they were going to be a pattern of bruises come morning, apparently ignoring the way his touch made Julian squirm. "Although that was only a very light session. Never fear: we'll work on increasing your tolerance and endurance in the future."
Julian moaned a weak protest, but he was smiling beneath it all — until a groan of real self-recrimination emerged. "Those lovely pajamas you made me…!" he lamented.
"You'll wear them for me another time," Garak soothed. He paused to lay a cool hand to Julian's cheek, then stroked it back and ran gentle fingers through his hair. "But now it's late, and I have to be at the shop early in the morning to finish that wedding commission we were discussing over lunch. Goodnight, my darling."
"Garak?" But the Cardassian was gone: Julian hadn't heard a single footfall, but he could sense the absence of the presence that had kept him pinned to this bed for the last… how strange, he'd lost track of time. He never lost track of time. And he could turn over now if he wanted to and clean up the sheet beneath him, but his limbs were so deliciously heavy and the sticky dampness smeared over his belly and chest was the essence of decadence…
He fell asleep almost at once, smiling contentedly, and no thought of Vantika dared creep in to trouble his happy dreams.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Seven here.
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2048
Summary: Julian didn't seem too alarmed when Garak showed up in his quarters in the middle of the night during "Cardassians". Why not?
Notes: 1) Set before, during and after the S2 episode "Cardassians". 2) Involves D/s with SSC taken into consideration. 3) This is turning into a series of incidents in relation to specific in-canon episodes; thus the chapter count is now uncertain.
WARNINGS: Under the cut and whited out in case people would like to be surprised.
Part One here.
Part Two here.
Part Three here.
Part Four here.
Part Five here.
The full set of warnings (in order of appearance in the story): Dominance/submission, nipple play, bite marking, threats of bondage, testicle spanking, age difference.
*************************************
The quality of the silence that followed was expectant, with an undercurrent of menace gleaming beneath it like a razor thinly sheathed in silk — and he hadn't released his controlling hold on the back of Julian's neck. After a moment of waiting to be allowed to sit up, Julian loosened his grip on the pillow and rotated his arms awkwardly, reaching back to hook his thumbs into the waistband of the pajama bottoms and, with what he hoped was the right degree of lingering slowness, strip them down over his hips. He had to hollow his back and hitch his pelvis upward a bit in order to do it, a position that practically presented his ass on a silver platter: he felt utterly, shamefully displayed — and it was all so hot that he could barely stop himself from whimpering yet again.
He could actually feel Garak's gaze on his brown skin as it was revealed centimetre by centimetre; the Cardassian's right hand had come to rest on the back of Julian's right knee, and Julian could feel his fingers tighten fractionally as the blue fabric crested the rise of his buttocks and started to slide down the other side. The waistband of the pants caught briefly on the hard hot length of his cock, forcing him to wiggle a little to work it free, and Garak purred again, this time in inarticulate approval, and oh God, I must be blushing down there, even though the cool air was raising goosebumps that made him tense even more, and shiver. By the time the waistband was at the point Garak had specified Julian was feeling more naked than he'd ever felt in his life — but he waited, his heart beating rapidly in his throat, and kept his ass elevated in a blatant offering.
"Well done!" Garak said softly after a moment; his hands left the back of Julian's knee and Julian's neck, and Julian's fingers clenched into fists around the material of his pajamas as the Cardassian's cool hands enclosed his waist and ran slowly back over his hips, until they curved around his own hands and, with a deft tug, coaxed them open and guided them back up to the pillow again. He clutched at it blindly, his eyes still closed, surrendering to the sensation of falling. "I knew you'd have a marvellous natural talent for this," Garak was murmuring, and his hands were moving again, tracing the contours of Julian's biceps, then running up to his shoulders and back down, "for giving yourself to me," leisurely down, over Julian's shoulder blades and ribs, making him want to tremble, "for needing a firm hand."
"Y—" But before he could finish that sigh the caress of Garak's fingertips sliding into the hollow between his external obliques and rectus abdominis sent an unexpected ticklish thrill through him: he caught his breath, trying to bite back the shivery gust of giggles and mostly succeeding. Garak paused in his ministrations, and Julian had barely enough time to realize how much trouble he might be in before those clever grey fingers repeated themselves, making him squirm outright and gasp: "Oh God, Garak, no, please —"
"I had no idea you were ticklish, my dear."
"I'm — ahhaha! — I'm not, usually, it's just — hmph! — oh don't, please—!"
"Well, that's something to keep in mind, certainly." He slid his hands up onto Julian's back with firm soothing pressure, digging his fingertips in just a little in a pointed way that effectively overrode the cascade of ticklishness he'd set in motion. "For later," he promised, and Julian settled down again, as much as he could anyway under the circumstances.
"You wouldn't, would you?" he chattered as Garak's hands started their slow savouring progress down his body again. "Tickle me, I mean? Isn't that rather —"
Quick as a snake, Garak bent and bit him right where his right internal oblique muscle sank into his waist — sharply enough that Julian yelped in protest. "What did I say about a gag?" he muttered, punctuating the threat with a gentler nip.
"I… I'm sorry, I get a bit —" He closed his mouth tightly and confined the rest of his response to a quick nod.
"Better," Garak praised, running his hands down to Julian's hips, shifting down the bed a little to apply another bite to the terminus of the right erector spinae muscle. Then another matching one on the opposite side. Then another, on the point of the gluteus maximus muscle where it attached to the thoracolumbar fascia — this one sharper again, sending a pulse of heat racing down to Julian's groin and almost driving another whimper from his throat. The growl that Garak emitted in response, soft but primal, thrilled him to his core as those strong hands closed around his hips, lifting him up a little further. "Now hold still, darling boy." A laugh, low and dark: "I won't make you bleed, you have my word."
There was definitely a pattern to the biting: Julian had enough presence of mind left to determine that much, and that pattern seemed to follow the ridges that adorned male Cardassian buttocks — which was just fine with him. Although he'd never considered his own ass a particularly erogenous zone before, the attention that Garak was paying to it, lips pressing and sucking, sharp teeth and the stroke of a nimble tongue over the spots that might bruise, was driving him almost out of his mind. He clutched at the thin pillow and tried his best not to squirm, although he completely gave up on fighting the urge to whimper only seconds into the game, and the cries he uttered after particularly intense bites quickly became quite shameless. His cock, hanging free, throbbed and burned and twitched with the fitful tightening of his abdominal muscles — sadly neglected, and soon he was panting: "Please… please, Garak… oh God, please…"
"Mrm?" A mumble around a mouthful of reddened skin.
"Touch me!" He pushed forward with his hips: only a centimetre or so, but Garak growled more sternly and pulled him back into position again, administering an admonishing nip. "Please, just a — ohhhhhh…" as Garak's right hand closed around him — but did not caress.
The Cardassian raised his head a little, and Julian could hear the roughened quality in his usually silky voice: "Do you promise you won't disgrace yourself again the way you did last time?"
"Oh, oh yes… I promise…"
A slow tight stroke, making Julian tremble. "Do you promise that you'll only let yourself go when I give you permission?"
"I promise… please, just —" Coherence vanished with a whine as Garak's hand began to move, sheathing him in a way that managed to be more wildly exciting than his own hand ever could; he started to push forward into it but Garak's grip became punishing, encircling the base of his cock and pulling him sharply back again.
"Doctor."
"I…" Oh, he was throbbing, burning, hot and dirty and needy, and Garak would give him exactly what he needed — if only he was good. There was a word he could say that would end this and let him finish himself off as quickly as he liked, but it wasn't just release that he craved: it was this, command and control and willingness and surrender, so he breathed miserably against the pillow: "I'm sorry, so sorry — I didn't, I'm a very bad boy, I didn't mean —"
"Bad?" Garak was a chameleon indeed, his tone of voice shifting from disciplinary to affectionate in the space of a single word. "You? Oh, my dear… no!" He leaned up to press a kiss to the hollow at the very tip of Julian's spine, cradling his balls in the palm of his hand for a moment, cupping and squeezing them. "You're the least 'bad' man I know — that I've ever known, I daresay." His breath on the sensitive skin he'd just kissed was making Julian shiver, an effect that only increased when he ran the tip of his tongue down the gluteal cleft to the rise of the buttocks, then whispered again: "Your problem has never been a lack of virtue — your problem is impulsiveness, a fundamental lack of control." Another squeeze of his balls, sharper this time, prompting a little gasp. "That is what I will teach you, if you'll give yourself over to me."
"Yes…" But he was frowning now, feeling shamed in a way that echoed the miseries of the day just past — loss of control, humiliation, a man dead by his hand…
"My poor darling!" Garak's voice, soft as velvet, drew him back to the present moment before the memories could fully break the surface of his mind. "I keep forgetting that you're so young — and that life impresses itself upon you so deeply." His hand slipped forward again, lightly enclosing Julian's cock, stroking it in a manifestly tender way that began to pull Julian out of his disquiet and back into his own flesh. "You have to trust me to know what's best for you, Julian — and you do, don't you?"
"Yes!" Not a second's hesitation in that admission, as foolhardy as it might seem in the cold light of day.
"Yes," Garak repeated almost hypnotically, "and you trust me to instruct you in the ways of both pleasure and pain." He bent his head again and bit the curve of Julian's left buttock, his lips lingering, the teeth within them so sharp that Julian jerked and bit back a pleading gasp. "And I will, sivharal, my beautiful exquisite boy — if you'll only let yourself come to me, without doubts and without conditions. If you'll only let me have you."
And then it was biting again, and kisses, and a sly serpentine hand teasing him, then gripping him and gliding over him, filling him with dark sensual fire that slowly built to a consuming intensity… on and almost unbearably on, until he was crying low in his throat and writhing shamelessly, all doubts forgotten, clinging desperately to the thin edge of control… until after a seeming eternity Garak finally whispered a sweet command against the small of his back — "Now, my beauty! — and it overflowed, washing him clean as it burst the confines of his skin. His mind blanked out in the white-hot rush, and when he came back to himself he was lying flat on his belly in the warm wetness of his own semen, drawing deep replenishing breaths as Garak, still fully clothed, massaged his waist and his lower back.
"Oh…" he managed to mumble blearily.
"Welcome back." He sounded amused and, Julian fancied, more than a little proud.
"Did I —" He couldn't even seem to raise his head from the pillow to look Garak in the eyes. "Was that better?"
"Much, my dear." He moved his caresses to Julian's sensitized buttocks, which felt as if they were going to be a pattern of bruises come morning, apparently ignoring the way his touch made Julian squirm. "Although that was only a very light session. Never fear: we'll work on increasing your tolerance and endurance in the future."
Julian moaned a weak protest, but he was smiling beneath it all — until a groan of real self-recrimination emerged. "Those lovely pajamas you made me…!" he lamented.
"You'll wear them for me another time," Garak soothed. He paused to lay a cool hand to Julian's cheek, then stroked it back and ran gentle fingers through his hair. "But now it's late, and I have to be at the shop early in the morning to finish that wedding commission we were discussing over lunch. Goodnight, my darling."
"Garak?" But the Cardassian was gone: Julian hadn't heard a single footfall, but he could sense the absence of the presence that had kept him pinned to this bed for the last… how strange, he'd lost track of time. He never lost track of time. And he could turn over now if he wanted to and clean up the sheet beneath him, but his limbs were so deliciously heavy and the sticky dampness smeared over his belly and chest was the essence of decadence…
He fell asleep almost at once, smiling contentedly, and no thought of Vantika dared creep in to trouble his happy dreams.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Seven here.
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