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doctor_tailor2012-04-10 08:11 am
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-04-10 08:11 am
Entry tags:
Fic: "Impulse" 12/?
Title: Impulse 12/?
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1476
Summary: An unusual incident at lunch leaves Garak utterly dumbfounded — and hopelessly hooked.
Notes: (1) Set between "Profit and Loss" and "The Wire". (2) With props to airandangels for a term for a certain part of male Cardassian anatomy, which, although applied slightly differently here, sounded so excellent that I had to borrow it.
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.
Part Eleven here.
*************************************
Even the hand of a sar'havat would have felt good given Garak's current state of excitation — but he wasn't to be permitted the mercy of stimulation that wouldn't threaten the core of his self-control. Instead he was with Julian, whose touch was artful and precise, thorough and lingering, hot in ways that had nothing to do with mere temperature. Those long dark fingers explored Garak's trasekt as if taking its every measure: the tapering glans, so sensitive that it took all Garak's self-control not to pant and whimper when Julian rubbed and squeezed it… the shaft that thickened towards its base, circled with soft-scaled ridges that, like the head, wept clear slick fluid… the slit it emerged from, wet with run-off and, below the point where it wrapped around the root of his cock, open just enough to admit the room's warm air, a salacious display of eagerness that Garak dearly hoped the Human couldn't accurately read.
The depths concealed behind its scaled lips tingled maddeningly — the most secret place on a male Cardassian's body, its name never spoken in polite company and seldom whispered even between those who performed the dance of dominance and submission… but when Julian's hand slipped down inside the crotch of Garak's pants, gliding in the unmistakable evidence of Garak's lust, Garak was not surprised to feel him lean closer and breathe a husky whisper into his right ear: "And what is this called?"
"The…" He shook his head once, a small tight gesture of defiance. "I can't. I've never…"
A kiss was pressed to his extended neck ridge while those long skilled fingers ran up and down the swollen flesh on either side of the slit. "But you will, won't you? With me."
That was undeniable. Through clenched teeth he said: "It is called the esotka, but I wouldn't advise you to use that word in general company."
"Why not?" The slow steady caress made made Garak want to jump out of his skin. "Is it an obscenity?"
"Worse than that — far worse." Julian's fingers, which had been parted in a position not unlike the salute Vulcans sometimes gave, drew closer together, close enough to rub the outermost scales of the slit; Garak's thighs, which had been tensed above bended knees, sank down and opened, and he turned his hips toward his captor and the concealed words came out of him in a breathless rush: "It is rigorously unspoken. Even our doctors do their best to talk their way around it, employing all sorts of flowery euphemisms that you'd need a more thorough knowledge of High Kardasi to appreciate."
"Oh?" More biting kisses on his ridge, his throat, the line of his jaw — soft lips and sharp teeth and heated breath and the scent of dates. "But… you like it when I touch it, don't you?"
He bent. He broke. "Yes. Oh, yes."
"Mm." A smile against the soft place under his jaw where his pulse beat hectically. "Tell me some of the other names."
"That's…" …a secret my fellow Cardassians would rather I keep, he meant to say, but then Julian's middle finger found the slit itself and stroked down it from trasekt to perineum, and the piercing sweetness of the feather-light touch bore Garak's heart into his mouth: "The Purse, for one. Or, The Sabak Flower in Bud. Or, The Dawning of the Hidden Sun."
"Oh, I like that last one!" His kisses were gracing Garak's cheek now, his cheekbone, the ridge that circled the orbit of his right eye. "'The Dawning of the Hidden Sun'… it sounds so romantic."
He couldn't maintain necessary distance or dam the flow of easy words this man inevitably provoked; he turned his face from the pillow and back toward his paramour, his eyes still closed, drinking in the heat and the light of the beauty he couldn't see. "We're a singularly unromantic people, as you well know."
Julian lightly kissed his mouth. "Well then, I'll just have to be romantic enough for both of us." Another kiss, and a murmuring whisper as his hand slipped back up to encircle and caress Garak's shaft, the tender passion of it almost too much to be endured: "You magnificent, fascinating, alluring man… aren't you happy I tied you up?"
Garak opened his eyes just enough to meet the Human's smiling gaze. "Those two statements would seem to contradict each other, wouldn't they?"
"Not really." He glanced up at Garak's bound wrists. "There's a long history in Terran sexual culture of bondage between lovers."
"Is there? I had no idea." He clenched his fists and twisted slightly against his restraints, mustering about a quarter of his strength in spite of the instinctive imperative to lie back and submit. Both the cuffs and the metal links that connected them to the headboard held fast. "So I take it you've done this before?"
"Once or twice, when my partner of the moment asked me to. It's really not my default style."
"Oh." He wasn't sure whether to smile or look disappointed, and ended up with a mouth-twitch that surely communicated neither. "Well, if your heart isn't really in this —"
The gleam in Julian's eyes grew even brighter. "Oh, my heart's in it, all right." He slid his pelvis closer, pressing his wonderfully hard erection against Garak's hip through his trousers. "Along with every other part of me. God, you look delicious like this!" His stroking hand paused on the head and squeezed briefly. "Would you mind terribly if I sucked your cock?"
"I —" The sheer salaciousness of it, so counter to what Cardassian culture would permit, shocked and thrilled him to his core. "Do all Humans talk like this in the heat of passion?"
"Only the very best ones." He nuzzled against Garak's neck, sharp teeth working at his scales, and Garak's head tipped back helplessly. "Please? In the interests of transparency… I'll confess… I've never done it before… but I've had it done to me… a lot… and I'm a quick student…"
"My darling." He could barely find the breath to speak, his trasekt throbbing and slicking, his esotka burning. "My etara… as you will…"
"Mmmm." A smug purr. He began to kiss and bite his way down Garak's throat. "Etara… what's that mean?"
His eyes had drifted closed again. "It's… what you became when I let you bind me."
"Hm." Onto his chest now, nimble tongue and nipping teeth marking the ridges that curved toward his sternum, that warm brown hand stroking up and down his full weeping length, from tip to slit and back again. "And does it mean that I can touch you wherever I like?"
"I wouldn't dream of stopping you." And for once he spoke nothing less than the truth.
"Anywhere?" A pause to tug Garak's pants down his thighs enough to get some working room; then strong fingertips returned, focussed on the slit, caressing with more pressure. "Even in here?"
Before Garak could stop himself his hips pushed up and forward, toward that illicit touch. And Julian laughed low in his throat in recognition of the signal. "I was hoping you'd say that. Mm, it feels so nice and tight… could I fit inside, do you think?"
Denial and plea clashed on Garak's usually glib tongue, rendering him mute. Of course there were rumours that some males allowed their esotka to be fondled, and that some even liked it, but Garak had never heard so much as a whisper that they might permit the Purse to be opened by an etara, no matter how masterful. A moment's thought, of course, revealed that it certainly could be thus opened — there were forms of interrogation that relied on precisely that physiological factor — and that with the trasekt everted there'd be room for —
Julian's mouth was roaming lower, adoring the soft hide of Garak's stomach where Humans had their odd navels. Garak's pulse was hammering under his jaw and behind every scale as he let it happen, let those tender lips press a final kiss to his belly and pull away, let them enclose the head of his erection as the Human's fingertips stroked and pressed deep between his legs , slipping inside just enough to find the hypersensitized secret flesh that swelled behind the ridges of the slit. He cried out as if wounded, feeling new wetness flow to meet Julian's mouth and hand in an enthusiastic unspoken endorsement of the unthinkable: being fellated, itself an act of considerable obscenity, but also violated in a way that no Cardassian male of any rank would countenance for an instant — intolerable, inconceivable, but oh! so exquisitely right.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1476
Summary: An unusual incident at lunch leaves Garak utterly dumbfounded — and hopelessly hooked.
Notes: (1) Set between "Profit and Loss" and "The Wire". (2) With props to airandangels for a term for a certain part of male Cardassian anatomy, which, although applied slightly differently here, sounded so excellent that I had to borrow it.
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.
Part Eleven here.
*************************************
Even the hand of a sar'havat would have felt good given Garak's current state of excitation — but he wasn't to be permitted the mercy of stimulation that wouldn't threaten the core of his self-control. Instead he was with Julian, whose touch was artful and precise, thorough and lingering, hot in ways that had nothing to do with mere temperature. Those long dark fingers explored Garak's trasekt as if taking its every measure: the tapering glans, so sensitive that it took all Garak's self-control not to pant and whimper when Julian rubbed and squeezed it… the shaft that thickened towards its base, circled with soft-scaled ridges that, like the head, wept clear slick fluid… the slit it emerged from, wet with run-off and, below the point where it wrapped around the root of his cock, open just enough to admit the room's warm air, a salacious display of eagerness that Garak dearly hoped the Human couldn't accurately read.
The depths concealed behind its scaled lips tingled maddeningly — the most secret place on a male Cardassian's body, its name never spoken in polite company and seldom whispered even between those who performed the dance of dominance and submission… but when Julian's hand slipped down inside the crotch of Garak's pants, gliding in the unmistakable evidence of Garak's lust, Garak was not surprised to feel him lean closer and breathe a husky whisper into his right ear: "And what is this called?"
"The…" He shook his head once, a small tight gesture of defiance. "I can't. I've never…"
A kiss was pressed to his extended neck ridge while those long skilled fingers ran up and down the swollen flesh on either side of the slit. "But you will, won't you? With me."
That was undeniable. Through clenched teeth he said: "It is called the esotka, but I wouldn't advise you to use that word in general company."
"Why not?" The slow steady caress made made Garak want to jump out of his skin. "Is it an obscenity?"
"Worse than that — far worse." Julian's fingers, which had been parted in a position not unlike the salute Vulcans sometimes gave, drew closer together, close enough to rub the outermost scales of the slit; Garak's thighs, which had been tensed above bended knees, sank down and opened, and he turned his hips toward his captor and the concealed words came out of him in a breathless rush: "It is rigorously unspoken. Even our doctors do their best to talk their way around it, employing all sorts of flowery euphemisms that you'd need a more thorough knowledge of High Kardasi to appreciate."
"Oh?" More biting kisses on his ridge, his throat, the line of his jaw — soft lips and sharp teeth and heated breath and the scent of dates. "But… you like it when I touch it, don't you?"
He bent. He broke. "Yes. Oh, yes."
"Mm." A smile against the soft place under his jaw where his pulse beat hectically. "Tell me some of the other names."
"That's…" …a secret my fellow Cardassians would rather I keep, he meant to say, but then Julian's middle finger found the slit itself and stroked down it from trasekt to perineum, and the piercing sweetness of the feather-light touch bore Garak's heart into his mouth: "The Purse, for one. Or, The Sabak Flower in Bud. Or, The Dawning of the Hidden Sun."
"Oh, I like that last one!" His kisses were gracing Garak's cheek now, his cheekbone, the ridge that circled the orbit of his right eye. "'The Dawning of the Hidden Sun'… it sounds so romantic."
He couldn't maintain necessary distance or dam the flow of easy words this man inevitably provoked; he turned his face from the pillow and back toward his paramour, his eyes still closed, drinking in the heat and the light of the beauty he couldn't see. "We're a singularly unromantic people, as you well know."
Julian lightly kissed his mouth. "Well then, I'll just have to be romantic enough for both of us." Another kiss, and a murmuring whisper as his hand slipped back up to encircle and caress Garak's shaft, the tender passion of it almost too much to be endured: "You magnificent, fascinating, alluring man… aren't you happy I tied you up?"
Garak opened his eyes just enough to meet the Human's smiling gaze. "Those two statements would seem to contradict each other, wouldn't they?"
"Not really." He glanced up at Garak's bound wrists. "There's a long history in Terran sexual culture of bondage between lovers."
"Is there? I had no idea." He clenched his fists and twisted slightly against his restraints, mustering about a quarter of his strength in spite of the instinctive imperative to lie back and submit. Both the cuffs and the metal links that connected them to the headboard held fast. "So I take it you've done this before?"
"Once or twice, when my partner of the moment asked me to. It's really not my default style."
"Oh." He wasn't sure whether to smile or look disappointed, and ended up with a mouth-twitch that surely communicated neither. "Well, if your heart isn't really in this —"
The gleam in Julian's eyes grew even brighter. "Oh, my heart's in it, all right." He slid his pelvis closer, pressing his wonderfully hard erection against Garak's hip through his trousers. "Along with every other part of me. God, you look delicious like this!" His stroking hand paused on the head and squeezed briefly. "Would you mind terribly if I sucked your cock?"
"I —" The sheer salaciousness of it, so counter to what Cardassian culture would permit, shocked and thrilled him to his core. "Do all Humans talk like this in the heat of passion?"
"Only the very best ones." He nuzzled against Garak's neck, sharp teeth working at his scales, and Garak's head tipped back helplessly. "Please? In the interests of transparency… I'll confess… I've never done it before… but I've had it done to me… a lot… and I'm a quick student…"
"My darling." He could barely find the breath to speak, his trasekt throbbing and slicking, his esotka burning. "My etara… as you will…"
"Mmmm." A smug purr. He began to kiss and bite his way down Garak's throat. "Etara… what's that mean?"
His eyes had drifted closed again. "It's… what you became when I let you bind me."
"Hm." Onto his chest now, nimble tongue and nipping teeth marking the ridges that curved toward his sternum, that warm brown hand stroking up and down his full weeping length, from tip to slit and back again. "And does it mean that I can touch you wherever I like?"
"I wouldn't dream of stopping you." And for once he spoke nothing less than the truth.
"Anywhere?" A pause to tug Garak's pants down his thighs enough to get some working room; then strong fingertips returned, focussed on the slit, caressing with more pressure. "Even in here?"
Before Garak could stop himself his hips pushed up and forward, toward that illicit touch. And Julian laughed low in his throat in recognition of the signal. "I was hoping you'd say that. Mm, it feels so nice and tight… could I fit inside, do you think?"
Denial and plea clashed on Garak's usually glib tongue, rendering him mute. Of course there were rumours that some males allowed their esotka to be fondled, and that some even liked it, but Garak had never heard so much as a whisper that they might permit the Purse to be opened by an etara, no matter how masterful. A moment's thought, of course, revealed that it certainly could be thus opened — there were forms of interrogation that relied on precisely that physiological factor — and that with the trasekt everted there'd be room for —
Julian's mouth was roaming lower, adoring the soft hide of Garak's stomach where Humans had their odd navels. Garak's pulse was hammering under his jaw and behind every scale as he let it happen, let those tender lips press a final kiss to his belly and pull away, let them enclose the head of his erection as the Human's fingertips stroked and pressed deep between his legs , slipping inside just enough to find the hypersensitized secret flesh that swelled behind the ridges of the slit. He cried out as if wounded, feeling new wetness flow to meet Julian's mouth and hand in an enthusiastic unspoken endorsement of the unthinkable: being fellated, itself an act of considerable obscenity, but also violated in a way that no Cardassian male of any rank would countenance for an instant — intolerable, inconceivable, but oh! so exquisitely right.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
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