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doctor_tailor2012-03-22 08:30 am
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-03-22 08:30 am
Entry tags:
Fic: "Impulse" 3/?
Title: Impulse 3/?
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1398
Summary: An unusual incident at lunch leaves Garak utterly dumbfounded.
Notes: Set between "Cardassians" and "The Wire".
Part One here.
Part Two here.
*************************************
He would have entered the Infirmary completely unannounced if it weren't for the whisper of the door as it opened, but that was all right: there was nobody in the main room except Julian, and the seated Human seemed so intent on whatever the console in front of him was displaying that he didn't even look round when Garak stepped into his domain. The good Doctor's head was tilted back a little as he gazed up at the screen, a position that did nothing to conceal the bareness of the nape of his neck, the way his short-cropped hair displayed what was, in Cardassian culture, a very provocative expanse of skin. Looking at those smooth silky centimetres of exposed flesh Garak felt his smile, which had been a mask of mildness in the public space of the Promenade, become more overtly predatory: while peripherally aware that among Humans such bareness meant nothing, he found himself unable to properly appreciate cultural relativity at this particular moment. He approached with perfectly trained stealth, his booted feet making no sound on the carpeted floor, until he was right behind Julian (who was now gazing down at the control interface and inputting commands) and could place his hands on the young man's shoulders much as he had at their first meeting: slowly, deliberately, a signal of dominance and of laying claim.
Julian's shoulders stiffened; he looked sharply up and around, then relaxed with a smile of recognition and relief. "Garak! You startled me."
Not half as much as you've startled me, my young friend, Garak thought, but instead he smiled more widely and said: "I do apologize, my dear Doctor, but you seemed so intent on your work, I didn't want to disturb you."
The Human glanced back up at the screen, which, Garak's lust-obsessed mind now dimly apprehended, displayed a schematic of a Bajoran neural cluster. "You're not, really — I've just wrapped up my assessment of the efficacy of the new amitron compound I whipped up earlier today on the…"
Garak lost interest. While Julian babbled on about the Averal delegation and viral parasite this and disinhibition that, he kept the smile plastered on his face and let his hands savour the contours of the slim shoulders they rested upon: clear to be felt even through the padding of that hideous uniform, especially when he ran them slowly down to the sides, where the heat of the skin could be felt through the soft fabric. And the scent that rose to tease him… the animal musk of Humans was so different from that of Cardassians, richer and saltier, and full of the most promising heat… promising such strength…
"Garak?" Julian's voice snapped him out of his reverie instantly. He realized that he'd been looking without seeing, his mind's eye turned inward, back toward that place of shadows and submission: Julian had twisted his neck to look up at him, a frown creasing his adorable furry eyebrows. He also realized that his grip had settled on the Human's upper arms, where Julian had grabbed him during lunch in fact, and tightened much more than was consistent with mere friendship.
"Yes, my dear?" He should let go. He didn't want to.
"Do you realize that you're… well, hissing?"
He was, but the kishaja felt as natural as his heartbeat, so he spoke through it: "Am I? Isn't that curious…" He cocked his head a little to one side, flickering his eyelids in pure coquettishness. "Perhaps you should examine me — purely in the spirit of scientific inquiry, of course!"
"Of course," Julian said, although he sounded far more skeptical than flirtatious. He looked down at Garak's left hand, still curved firmly around his bicep, then up at Garak again, who was pressed right up against the back of his chair. "You'll need to let go of me first."
"If I do," Garak responded, lacing his voice with sexual challenge, "do you promise to make it worth my while?"
"You have my word as a Starfleet officer," Julian said at once, and because he was a man of honour Garak released him and stepped away, giving him room to roll back his chair and rise to his feet, heading for a stand-alone cart situated in the centre of the room. "Computer, load a hypospray with three cc's of amitron compound Bashir Beta."
Garak followed him closely, alert for betrayal — and sure enough, when the station emitted a melodious beep Julian pulled a hypospray from its dock and turned around, speaking in a soothing and reasonable tone: "Garak, you've obviously been infected, but an injection of this will quickly set you —"
Garak barely heard him. All his senses were focussed on the warm-blooded prize only an arm's-length away, but deeply ingrained combat instincts reacted to the threat instantly. Because of his affection for Julian he did not strike to incapacitate or to kill: instead he stepped right up against the taller man's chest, his left hand snaking out to close around the wrist of the hand holding the hypospray, effectively immobilizing it, while his right hand clamped around Julian's left forearm, pinning it to his narrow hip.
Caught in the grip of a full-grown male Cardassian, between that Cardassian's body and the heavy cart, Julian didn't try to fight his way free. He fixed Garak with a stern gaze instead. "Let me go, Garak."
"Oh, I don't think so," Garak purred, and tightened his grip fractionally. "I'm finding this far too gratifying, although I'd much prefer to be —" He caught himself just short of revealing too much, of giving Julian a crucial clue to what the sing-song susurration behind his words meant, and in his anger at himself he bore down harder on Julian's wrist, fingertips digging in toward the nerve clusters there.
Julian's eyes narrowed in a wince of pain. "You're hurting me," he said, his voice still even, his glare now commanding. "Let me go, Garak! I know you're not yourself right now, but —"
"Let you go? Now that I've caught you?" The words were dominant, but the underlying hiss was submissive, and he hated himself for it. "Do you think me so inconstant, my pretty fool, to have come for you and let myself be turned away by mere words?" He heard the door whisper behind him, distant, inconsequential; Julian's gaze slid past him, hazel eyes widening, and he shifted his right hand to seize the back of that impossibly delicate Human neck and gave Julian a little shake to focus his attention again, leaning closer to hiss in his ear: "To be claimed, and not to claim in my turn? How little you understand! Listen carefully, sh'arasa, because I'll only say this once —"
A voice sharply spoke his name. A female voice. He paid no attention.
"— and if you disobey I'll be forced to correct you." He ran his fingers up into the short hair at the back of Julian's skull, the short hair that so tantalizingly displayed the vulnerability of the Human's erost, to caress that most intimate of places. "First, there are certain words you must never —"
Footsteps behind him, approaching fast, but the alarms of his trained reflexes didn't go off in time. He felt the hypospray being taken from Julian's hand and applied to the side of his throat and triggered, just in front of the left neck ridge — and at last he was forced to release the enthralling boy and turn, uttering an explosive growl at Jadzia Dax, who had taken the precaution of backing out of arm's reach after administering the medication.
He glared at her for a precious second as the universe started to float around him, then turned on his heel to face Julian again, managing not to stumble over his own feet. The Human was looking at him with compassion and pity in equal measure, a combination that fired his rage and excoriated his heart.
"I would have been shorn for you!" he cried in a voice pathetically thin, knowing it was all he had time for — and then the world slid sideways from under him and he plunged with it, down into a darkness that stripped him of urgency, of doubt, of loathing, of desire… of everything.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Four here.
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1398
Summary: An unusual incident at lunch leaves Garak utterly dumbfounded.
Notes: Set between "Cardassians" and "The Wire".
Part One here.
Part Two here.
*************************************
He would have entered the Infirmary completely unannounced if it weren't for the whisper of the door as it opened, but that was all right: there was nobody in the main room except Julian, and the seated Human seemed so intent on whatever the console in front of him was displaying that he didn't even look round when Garak stepped into his domain. The good Doctor's head was tilted back a little as he gazed up at the screen, a position that did nothing to conceal the bareness of the nape of his neck, the way his short-cropped hair displayed what was, in Cardassian culture, a very provocative expanse of skin. Looking at those smooth silky centimetres of exposed flesh Garak felt his smile, which had been a mask of mildness in the public space of the Promenade, become more overtly predatory: while peripherally aware that among Humans such bareness meant nothing, he found himself unable to properly appreciate cultural relativity at this particular moment. He approached with perfectly trained stealth, his booted feet making no sound on the carpeted floor, until he was right behind Julian (who was now gazing down at the control interface and inputting commands) and could place his hands on the young man's shoulders much as he had at their first meeting: slowly, deliberately, a signal of dominance and of laying claim.
Julian's shoulders stiffened; he looked sharply up and around, then relaxed with a smile of recognition and relief. "Garak! You startled me."
Not half as much as you've startled me, my young friend, Garak thought, but instead he smiled more widely and said: "I do apologize, my dear Doctor, but you seemed so intent on your work, I didn't want to disturb you."
The Human glanced back up at the screen, which, Garak's lust-obsessed mind now dimly apprehended, displayed a schematic of a Bajoran neural cluster. "You're not, really — I've just wrapped up my assessment of the efficacy of the new amitron compound I whipped up earlier today on the…"
Garak lost interest. While Julian babbled on about the Averal delegation and viral parasite this and disinhibition that, he kept the smile plastered on his face and let his hands savour the contours of the slim shoulders they rested upon: clear to be felt even through the padding of that hideous uniform, especially when he ran them slowly down to the sides, where the heat of the skin could be felt through the soft fabric. And the scent that rose to tease him… the animal musk of Humans was so different from that of Cardassians, richer and saltier, and full of the most promising heat… promising such strength…
"Garak?" Julian's voice snapped him out of his reverie instantly. He realized that he'd been looking without seeing, his mind's eye turned inward, back toward that place of shadows and submission: Julian had twisted his neck to look up at him, a frown creasing his adorable furry eyebrows. He also realized that his grip had settled on the Human's upper arms, where Julian had grabbed him during lunch in fact, and tightened much more than was consistent with mere friendship.
"Yes, my dear?" He should let go. He didn't want to.
"Do you realize that you're… well, hissing?"
He was, but the kishaja felt as natural as his heartbeat, so he spoke through it: "Am I? Isn't that curious…" He cocked his head a little to one side, flickering his eyelids in pure coquettishness. "Perhaps you should examine me — purely in the spirit of scientific inquiry, of course!"
"Of course," Julian said, although he sounded far more skeptical than flirtatious. He looked down at Garak's left hand, still curved firmly around his bicep, then up at Garak again, who was pressed right up against the back of his chair. "You'll need to let go of me first."
"If I do," Garak responded, lacing his voice with sexual challenge, "do you promise to make it worth my while?"
"You have my word as a Starfleet officer," Julian said at once, and because he was a man of honour Garak released him and stepped away, giving him room to roll back his chair and rise to his feet, heading for a stand-alone cart situated in the centre of the room. "Computer, load a hypospray with three cc's of amitron compound Bashir Beta."
Garak followed him closely, alert for betrayal — and sure enough, when the station emitted a melodious beep Julian pulled a hypospray from its dock and turned around, speaking in a soothing and reasonable tone: "Garak, you've obviously been infected, but an injection of this will quickly set you —"
Garak barely heard him. All his senses were focussed on the warm-blooded prize only an arm's-length away, but deeply ingrained combat instincts reacted to the threat instantly. Because of his affection for Julian he did not strike to incapacitate or to kill: instead he stepped right up against the taller man's chest, his left hand snaking out to close around the wrist of the hand holding the hypospray, effectively immobilizing it, while his right hand clamped around Julian's left forearm, pinning it to his narrow hip.
Caught in the grip of a full-grown male Cardassian, between that Cardassian's body and the heavy cart, Julian didn't try to fight his way free. He fixed Garak with a stern gaze instead. "Let me go, Garak."
"Oh, I don't think so," Garak purred, and tightened his grip fractionally. "I'm finding this far too gratifying, although I'd much prefer to be —" He caught himself just short of revealing too much, of giving Julian a crucial clue to what the sing-song susurration behind his words meant, and in his anger at himself he bore down harder on Julian's wrist, fingertips digging in toward the nerve clusters there.
Julian's eyes narrowed in a wince of pain. "You're hurting me," he said, his voice still even, his glare now commanding. "Let me go, Garak! I know you're not yourself right now, but —"
"Let you go? Now that I've caught you?" The words were dominant, but the underlying hiss was submissive, and he hated himself for it. "Do you think me so inconstant, my pretty fool, to have come for you and let myself be turned away by mere words?" He heard the door whisper behind him, distant, inconsequential; Julian's gaze slid past him, hazel eyes widening, and he shifted his right hand to seize the back of that impossibly delicate Human neck and gave Julian a little shake to focus his attention again, leaning closer to hiss in his ear: "To be claimed, and not to claim in my turn? How little you understand! Listen carefully, sh'arasa, because I'll only say this once —"
A voice sharply spoke his name. A female voice. He paid no attention.
"— and if you disobey I'll be forced to correct you." He ran his fingers up into the short hair at the back of Julian's skull, the short hair that so tantalizingly displayed the vulnerability of the Human's erost, to caress that most intimate of places. "First, there are certain words you must never —"
Footsteps behind him, approaching fast, but the alarms of his trained reflexes didn't go off in time. He felt the hypospray being taken from Julian's hand and applied to the side of his throat and triggered, just in front of the left neck ridge — and at last he was forced to release the enthralling boy and turn, uttering an explosive growl at Jadzia Dax, who had taken the precaution of backing out of arm's reach after administering the medication.
He glared at her for a precious second as the universe started to float around him, then turned on his heel to face Julian again, managing not to stumble over his own feet. The Human was looking at him with compassion and pity in equal measure, a combination that fired his rage and excoriated his heart.
"I would have been shorn for you!" he cried in a voice pathetically thin, knowing it was all he had time for — and then the world slid sideways from under him and he plunged with it, down into a darkness that stripped him of urgency, of doubt, of loathing, of desire… of everything.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Four here.