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doctor_tailor2012-09-05 07:18 pm
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-09-05 07:18 pm
Fic: "The Blessing of Diversity"
Title: The Blessings of Diversity
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: R
Word Count: 1116
Summary: Sometimes it's the little things…
Notes: Set post-"The Wire".
*************************************
Julian had slept with his share of non-Human women, and experience had taught him that sometimes it was the smallest differences that made the greatest impact. Techniques of kissing, for example, could vary widely across cultures — the pressure, the penetration, the lingering or the glancing of contact — and he couldn't deny the thrill provoked by running his hand across a smooth expanse of skin and finding, to his delight, a patch of texturing or scarification, or of unexpected coolness, or of marvellous quivering sensitivity. While he relied primarily on vision in his professional life, Julian had to confess that he gained the greatest sensual delight from "running blind", closing his eyes and letting his sense of touch take over, guiding him to the centre of his partner's yielding heat with unfailing accuracy.
In that respect, as in so many other more cerebral ones, Garak had proven both an enigmatic challenge and a tremendous reward. His skin was the map of a country more secret than any Julian had yet hazarded — it had taken all of his considerable powers of seductive persuasion to convince the spy to open his clothing at all and let his Human friend cross the borders — and it was marked into zones whose contours Julian was still in the process of determining. The resources of this new land (so strange, in part, because Julian had never before found a fellow male worthy of such sexual exploration) were hidden deep, and to win a sigh or a gasp from Garak was equivalent to finding a vein of gold lying close to the surface… but Julian was a persistent prospector, and one by one he was acquiring treasures that left him frankly amazed. To look at Garak casually, you would have thought him grey and cold — but oh, he was warm beneath, positively molten in fact, with the barely chained force of a volcano lurking behind his benign smiles and graceful hands and mask of professional placidity.
And Julian had been privileged to bathe in that incandescence not once, but several times. At this particular moment he was basking in the afterglow of a particularly energetic fucking, flat on his back in his bed with Garak's weight still pressing him down into the thin Cardassian mattress while he tried to catch his breath and wondered, yet again, how he's managed to maneuver his way into this amazing position.
"It really is remarkable," Garak murmured against the side of his throat, which was going to be sporting some very fine bruises come morning: in the heat of passion, this Cardassian male at least tended to bite, though so far he'd avoided breaking the skin.
"Hmm?" The sting of Garak's teeth still burned pleasantly, and Julian opened his eyes just enough to blink at the shadowed ceiling beyond Garak's powerfully ridged shoulder, which bore a few marks of its own: Julian was, after all, nothing if not a fast learner.
"This." He levered himself up off of Julian's body enough to permit a rush of cooler air between them, then disengaged his right arm from around his paramour to comb his fingers lightly down through the thatch of tightly curled hair at Julian's groin. The caress caused Julian's cock, which had just released a rather large payload and softened back into its nest, to stir yet again. "Your adornment of fur… utterly alien to my species, of course, but quite common for your own?"
"It's not fur," Julian protested, but without much vehemence.
"It isn't?" Garak sounded sincerely puzzled. "But… you are a mammal, are you not?"
Julian wasn't fooled for an instant. "It's hair, Garak." He slid his left hand up Garak's back from where they'd both been resting on the spy's rounded buttocks and combed his fingers through the saurian's ebony mane, from temple-ridge to nape. "Like this. We might have a bit more of it than you Cardassians do, but it serves a similar function."
He expected Garak to pull back even more, enough to look him directly in the eyes with a gleaming gaze that anticipated a rousing debate, but Garak surprised him by shifting down his body and leaning in again to nudge his nose into Julian's right armpit. "Does it?" he queried, slightly muffled. "I think not, Doctor."
"Oh?" He would have sat up, the better to trade words, but the residual power of his orgasm seemed to have left him temporarily boneless, so he smiled instead and raised his arm to grant easy access, still cradling the back of Garak's neck in his left hand. "And how's that?"
"This particular patch catches and holds your scent." Nuzzle. Indrawn breath, and a lazy smile that Julian could clearly hear even in the darkness: "Most deliciously, I might add."
"Mmh." He let his eyes drift close as Garak slid further down his body, still taking his pheromonal signature, and only squirmed when the little scales on the tip of the Cardassian's nose tickled a particularly sensitive spot over his uppermost right vertebrochondrial rib. Soft grey hands immediately pinned his hips with that effortless strength that always managed to catch him a little by surprise.
"Lie still, my dear." The rebuke was honeyed, punctuated by a kiss low on his waist.
"Then don't tickle me," Julian muttered, not really complaining.
"It would make you very easy to track, you know," Garak breathed a few seconds later against the soft skin that sheathed Julian's iliac crest.
"Mm…" He let that sink in for a moment; then his eyes flew wide open. "Wait a minute… are you telling me that I smell?"
"No more than any other of your kind, and far more attractively than most." Garak shifted a few centimetres to his own right. "And this…" He nuzzled in again, burying his nose in the tangle of Julian's pubic curls. "With its bouquet like fine Inarian wine, dark and sharp and intoxicating. The way it catches these little droplets, for example…" He began to lick — to groom, really, cleaning the pelt of his lover — and Julian's penis gave an eager little upward leap. "Mmmm…"
"Garak." His breath was coming more swiftly again, when it had just begun to slow down.
A low velvet rumble: "Yes, my little f'rossa?"
Somewhat distracted, Julian made a mental note to make some inquiries later as to what exactly a f'rossa was. "A little to your right. Please?"
A growl this time, setting Julian's very blood vibrating, and as Garak set to work in earnest Julian shivered under the exquisite stimulation that bordered on pain, and thanked whatever Gods might be for the blessings of structural diversity.
THE END
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: R
Word Count: 1116
Summary: Sometimes it's the little things…
Notes: Set post-"The Wire".
*************************************
Julian had slept with his share of non-Human women, and experience had taught him that sometimes it was the smallest differences that made the greatest impact. Techniques of kissing, for example, could vary widely across cultures — the pressure, the penetration, the lingering or the glancing of contact — and he couldn't deny the thrill provoked by running his hand across a smooth expanse of skin and finding, to his delight, a patch of texturing or scarification, or of unexpected coolness, or of marvellous quivering sensitivity. While he relied primarily on vision in his professional life, Julian had to confess that he gained the greatest sensual delight from "running blind", closing his eyes and letting his sense of touch take over, guiding him to the centre of his partner's yielding heat with unfailing accuracy.
In that respect, as in so many other more cerebral ones, Garak had proven both an enigmatic challenge and a tremendous reward. His skin was the map of a country more secret than any Julian had yet hazarded — it had taken all of his considerable powers of seductive persuasion to convince the spy to open his clothing at all and let his Human friend cross the borders — and it was marked into zones whose contours Julian was still in the process of determining. The resources of this new land (so strange, in part, because Julian had never before found a fellow male worthy of such sexual exploration) were hidden deep, and to win a sigh or a gasp from Garak was equivalent to finding a vein of gold lying close to the surface… but Julian was a persistent prospector, and one by one he was acquiring treasures that left him frankly amazed. To look at Garak casually, you would have thought him grey and cold — but oh, he was warm beneath, positively molten in fact, with the barely chained force of a volcano lurking behind his benign smiles and graceful hands and mask of professional placidity.
And Julian had been privileged to bathe in that incandescence not once, but several times. At this particular moment he was basking in the afterglow of a particularly energetic fucking, flat on his back in his bed with Garak's weight still pressing him down into the thin Cardassian mattress while he tried to catch his breath and wondered, yet again, how he's managed to maneuver his way into this amazing position.
"It really is remarkable," Garak murmured against the side of his throat, which was going to be sporting some very fine bruises come morning: in the heat of passion, this Cardassian male at least tended to bite, though so far he'd avoided breaking the skin.
"Hmm?" The sting of Garak's teeth still burned pleasantly, and Julian opened his eyes just enough to blink at the shadowed ceiling beyond Garak's powerfully ridged shoulder, which bore a few marks of its own: Julian was, after all, nothing if not a fast learner.
"This." He levered himself up off of Julian's body enough to permit a rush of cooler air between them, then disengaged his right arm from around his paramour to comb his fingers lightly down through the thatch of tightly curled hair at Julian's groin. The caress caused Julian's cock, which had just released a rather large payload and softened back into its nest, to stir yet again. "Your adornment of fur… utterly alien to my species, of course, but quite common for your own?"
"It's not fur," Julian protested, but without much vehemence.
"It isn't?" Garak sounded sincerely puzzled. "But… you are a mammal, are you not?"
Julian wasn't fooled for an instant. "It's hair, Garak." He slid his left hand up Garak's back from where they'd both been resting on the spy's rounded buttocks and combed his fingers through the saurian's ebony mane, from temple-ridge to nape. "Like this. We might have a bit more of it than you Cardassians do, but it serves a similar function."
He expected Garak to pull back even more, enough to look him directly in the eyes with a gleaming gaze that anticipated a rousing debate, but Garak surprised him by shifting down his body and leaning in again to nudge his nose into Julian's right armpit. "Does it?" he queried, slightly muffled. "I think not, Doctor."
"Oh?" He would have sat up, the better to trade words, but the residual power of his orgasm seemed to have left him temporarily boneless, so he smiled instead and raised his arm to grant easy access, still cradling the back of Garak's neck in his left hand. "And how's that?"
"This particular patch catches and holds your scent." Nuzzle. Indrawn breath, and a lazy smile that Julian could clearly hear even in the darkness: "Most deliciously, I might add."
"Mmh." He let his eyes drift close as Garak slid further down his body, still taking his pheromonal signature, and only squirmed when the little scales on the tip of the Cardassian's nose tickled a particularly sensitive spot over his uppermost right vertebrochondrial rib. Soft grey hands immediately pinned his hips with that effortless strength that always managed to catch him a little by surprise.
"Lie still, my dear." The rebuke was honeyed, punctuated by a kiss low on his waist.
"Then don't tickle me," Julian muttered, not really complaining.
"It would make you very easy to track, you know," Garak breathed a few seconds later against the soft skin that sheathed Julian's iliac crest.
"Mm…" He let that sink in for a moment; then his eyes flew wide open. "Wait a minute… are you telling me that I smell?"
"No more than any other of your kind, and far more attractively than most." Garak shifted a few centimetres to his own right. "And this…" He nuzzled in again, burying his nose in the tangle of Julian's pubic curls. "With its bouquet like fine Inarian wine, dark and sharp and intoxicating. The way it catches these little droplets, for example…" He began to lick — to groom, really, cleaning the pelt of his lover — and Julian's penis gave an eager little upward leap. "Mmmm…"
"Garak." His breath was coming more swiftly again, when it had just begun to slow down.
A low velvet rumble: "Yes, my little f'rossa?"
Somewhat distracted, Julian made a mental note to make some inquiries later as to what exactly a f'rossa was. "A little to your right. Please?"
A growl this time, setting Julian's very blood vibrating, and as Garak set to work in earnest Julian shivered under the exquisite stimulation that bordered on pain, and thanked whatever Gods might be for the blessings of structural diversity.
THE END