InsaneJournal

 Title: Black Bottle: Chapter 2: A New Day Part 1
Author: Hermit9
Fandom: Star Trek DS9
Pair: Garak/Bashir
Rating: Overall: adult, This Chap: Adult-18
Warnings: Sex, BDSM

    The computer chimes and Elim turns and looks groggily to the clock on the nightstand.  He can't read it.  Whatever it says it is clearly an ungodly hour to be woken by an unfeeling computer.  Though he can't be disgruntled for long.  The warm lump that has moved from his hip to slung halfway across his chest is enough to make him smile and grumble a little purr as his sleepy fingers travel over it, uncoordinated but appreciative of the stroke of smooth skin beneath them.  Julian stirs when the computer chimes again.  He doesn't so much stir really as squirm in a syrupy way over him which Elim is also not going to complain about.  That squirm grinds warm hairy legs against his and soft hairless groin against his hip.  A moment in drowsy darkness and the computer chimes once more.  Elim groans lightly.  "Are you really getting up this early?"  Julian tries to nod but more just sort of rubs his face on Elim's chest in affirmation.  "You said you had today off too."

    "I do," he says and his jaw has to open upwards because the lower half has come to rest on Garak's immovable sternum.   "But I have the medical staff meeting this morning.  And then the senior staff meeting."

    "And then will you be finished?"

    "Yes.  Until the ceremony this afternoon."

    Elim glowers internally but lets it go.  "What ceremony?"

    "Sisko.  Getting the Christopher Pike medal," he mumbles.

    Garak yawns.  He can't recall Sisko doing anything particularly fantastic lately, nothing Starfleet should appreciate anyway.  "Really?  What for?"

    "Bravery, valor, some other stuff," Julian slurs, eyes still closed and face lax.  Garak chuckles and the computer chimes at them again, this time with a little more insistence in its bleat.  So Garak lifts himself up and scoops Julian under his knees and arms.  Julian groans at being disturbed so forcefully and bodily, a little petulant but too tired to do anything about it.  "What are you doing?" he grumbles sloppily and his eyes finally crack open.

    "Come along.  Time for you to get up."

    "I know.  I'm up."  Garak takes the slightly limp man into the bathroom, turns them both carefully to point Julian's feet into the shower, and uses the doctor's conveniently aligned big toe to touch the button.  The water starts and Garak plants him in front of it.  He makes a noise of disgruntled protest again and immediately fumbles with the temperature controls.  The default setting is a mere 13 degrees. 

    Garak takes a towel from the rack and wipes down his wet arms and says, "Time for you to get up and for me to go back to bed."   He smiles at Julian huddled under the spray.  Julian looks back at him with a disbelieving frown.

    "You wouldn't."

    Garak slides the shower door shut.

......

    Julian showers quickly, feeling a momentary return of the rush of excitement he has been riding for days, then emerges fresh and steamy to the bedroom where Garak has switched off the automatic daylights and is buried beneath the covers.  Julian has only his clothes from two days ago to wear; the trousers and the loose white shirt Garak let him borrow, though they aught to be clean.  Not like he spent much of the past two days wearing them.  At any rate he'll have to go back to his quarters to get a uniform before the senior staff meeting, but Friday's clothes would be fine for now.

    So the only real obstacle to getting him out the door and on his way to the infirmary is the magnetic power of a warm, half-occupied bed on his sleepy body.  As he pulls Garak's white shirt on, a drowsy blue eye peeks from a crack in the bedclothes.  Elim doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to do anything more than look at him.  Julian's feet, still bare and free, sunken in the thick carpet, are not aware there is business to be done, work to be pursued, they are still naked like Elim, and they carry Julian to the bed again.  His eyelids droop as he slithers beneath the covers and Elim accepts him into heavy arms.

    Into his moist cocoon Julian snuggles, kissed and held, and Elim licks sweet dew from beneath his jaw from his recent shower.  Julian feels himself fading, so quickly, so easily though his mind nags that he needs to be leaving, that he cannot fall asleep now, that he cannot afford to lie here because he will fall asleep, and at the same time his heart is yammering happiness and a gripping need to be here and nowhere else.

    He is almost gone - it only takes a moment, and Garak smiles.  Poor thing.  "Come on," he mutters, then lifts his feet and starts pushing with them against Julian's hip, sliding him across the sheets.  "I have things to do today that I don't want to as well."  Julian groans pathetically and starts to slide out of bed under his own power. "The sooner we do our jobs the sooner we can take a nap."

    Julian snuffles a laugh and sits on the bed feeling about as active and capable as a case of dead gagh.  His shoes go on with difficulty, but that done, he is ready to go, and does, giving Elim's knee a squeeze as he gets up.  He knows if he had put his head down low enough to kiss him he would be in the bed again, though that doesn't stop the pull on his heart and body as he tears himself away.

    On his slow meandering walk through the corridors, empty, dim, and echoless this early in the morning, he yawns and tries to come up with a way to get a rachtajino without going to his quarters which are not on the way, and without going to the replimat, which is on the way, except that the rachtajino program in that replicator is corrupt and it always tastes a bit too much like clams.

    It's really quite odd, though, he thinks, that he is going to the weekly meeting like he has done week after week for many many many weeks now, six years worth, looking for coffee and rubbing his eyes, after just spending the last day and a half in Elim Garak's bed.  Julian stops in his tracks and a wave of heat washes over him.  How life can just go on after something this big happens, he doesn't know.  It's supposed to change everything isn't it?  That may have been what he was expecting though he never put it into such stark words.  You look forward to something so strongly, and it becomes a pivot point for your whole life for a time, as if it should all be down hill from here. He knows that isn't true.  Your life, your emotions don't rest on a single plane teetering on a crux like in a novel.  Still, somehow it's surprising that nothing has changed this morning.  Julian sees his reflection in a shiny black console on the wall of the corridor.  Well.  He is definitely different.  Strange civilian clothing, rumpled hair, puffy eyes, goofy smile.  He looks like a hungover pirate.

    Julian continues on.

    Also surprising, he muses, is how differently he feels today from last night.  He recalls last night being not the best of his life.  He was so utterly disappointed, so embarrassed at his own naïveté.  He isn't sure how Elim did it, but he feels absolved this morning.  That doesn't usually happen with Julian's guilt.  It tends to linger regardless of how much forgiveness others apply like a bruise treated with honey.  Maybe it was stupid to have felt guilty in the first place.  He blamed himself for everything that wasn't perfect about last night.  Elim never did.  He said he didn't have any expectations, and in one sense that was true, but really he must have.  He expected Julian to have trouble and he did, because everyone does.  You know better than that, Dummy.  This decidedly falls under the category of things that must be learned, and not things that he should have an innate ability to do simply because he is an augment.  It was not reasonable to think he'd be able to just do it.  And why did he assume Elim would think that he should?  Elim said he had no expectations to free him of that fear, not make it more important or more challenging for Julian to wow him.  Maybe he already knew this by the time he woke up and that is why he feels better now.  Wouldn't be the first time he solved a problem with sleep and dreaming.

    He is pretty sure he dreamed about Elim's mouth on him last night. 

    Julian grins as he walks though there is no one but his reflection in the black consoles to see it, overcome with it again, just the realization that this is happening is astounding, exhilarating.

    He spent the last day and a half in Garak's bed - and he's going to go straight back there as soon as all of this other stuff is done.

    He strolls smiling into the infirmary a good five minutes late with a slightly less clammy than usual rachtajino in hand, and plants himself in his chair with a sigh.  The rest of the staff stand in a rough circle around the room, around him, leaning against consoles and tables with their own sleepy eyes and coffee cups in hand, the same scene Julian has witnessed at every weekly meeting before this.  The only difference is in the expressions on their faces, just a little altered, though maybe it is his imagination.

    "Well," he says.  "I am, completely, unprepared for this meeting.  I usually work up a plan on Friday evening from the logs of the week before, but I never got around to it.  I've got nothing.  So.  Let's just skip the part where I ramble on for an hour and go straight to you people.  What would you like to discuss?  I'm all ears."

    Julian smiles at them and sips his coffee and no one says anything.  He looks at Marcia expectantly.  She always has something to say.  When he looks at her though, he thinks that maybe he wasn't imagining the change on their faces, because she is giving him the eyebrow.  Julian's smile skitters away and he self-consciously runs a hand through his hair to hopefully straighten it out a bit and pulls his shirt down to disguise the wrinkles.  The eyebrow fades away and she swallows and just looks a little sea sick.  Finally, Doctor Girani clears her throat and speaks.

    "Well...ah...I have a concern that I wanted to bring up.  Our female Vulcan patients, few though they are, have been asking for a particular type of treatment for skin abnormalities that we have not been able to provide.  I wanted to get your input, Doctor, and see if we can't speak with someone on Vulcan about acquiring the technology."

    The whole world didn't change over night, but maybe the shock wave did spill over the rim of Julian's cup just a little.

~*~

    Garak begins tossing pink and fuscia and turquoise into crates without even the slightest regard for wrinkles or delicate sequins.  The gratitude festival is in full swing outside.  No matter that it's not technically over.  Everyone who was going to buy something to wear to it has done so.  He just wants them gone.  He had nearly every last strip of taffeta packed away when his comm chimed and he had to groan as he rose from his knees to go to his computer.

    "Ah!  Garak, I was hoping you'd be in."

    Alarms go off in Garak's head, his senses string tight and his nerves buzz suddenly and fiercely.  This scaled face is not one he likes to see.

    "I have some information for you."

    Garak scowls and glances around him, waiting, expecting something, because this isn't quite right.  It isn't that he dislikes the face.  Any Cardassian face is a breath of beauty here when they are so seldom seen.  But he never sees this face, only hears the words over encrypted messages or reads them written in code.  He doesn't even know the face well, but the lazy nasal voice is unmistakable.

    "Oh relax Garak.  It isn't important enough to warrant using our formal channels."

    Indeed.  Garak can see Cardassia Prime behind Visid Omar in the screen.  Just blurry background shapes of a window, a framed living cityscape, and the comforts of a Cardassian home.  He feels a sort of rage he hasn't in a long time.  This worm of man who enjoys the planet Garak has fought for his whole life has not even the decency to acknowledge Garak's vulnerability out here.  If the information he wishes to give Garak is so devalued, why does he bother to transmit it?  And why would he assume it would be acceptable to contact Garak in any other manner, much less speak of the fact that they have formal channels?  Garak grits his teeth and still says nothing.

    "I've heard from reliable sources that a certain someone was seen in the vicinity of Cardassia Prime recently," he says with jovial obliviousness.

    Garak frowns hard.  Visid doesn't continue, however.  "Who," he says sharply.

    "Who do you think?"

    "Dukat."

    Visid smiles a gaunt smile and nods once, respectfully.

    "I've also heard he has gone stark raving mad."

    "That isn't news."

    "No, but there is nothing worse than having a crazed Cardassian drunk with power and bloodlust aiming a very large weapon in your direction is there?"

    "A weapon?"

    "Metaphorically speaking."

    Garak glares.  "What is your point Omar?"

    "You might want to let your adoptive parents know that the neighbor's son has been giving you dirty looks.  Sisko in particular, but who knows, he could just try getting you all in one shot.  You're no favorite of his either."

    Indeed.

    "So you see, common knowledge, not guarded, but proprietary nonetheless."

    "Yes.  I do."

    "Well I can see you're busy with your dresses, Garak.  I'll leave you to it.  It was nice seeing you again, my friend."

    Visid is replaced by a black screen and Garak frowns at it.  Hints and nothing more.  Nothing he could even bring to Sisko.  If Dukat really is back on Cardassia, it is doubtful he would have any influence left there, though privilege perhaps.  Without the backing of the Cardassian military he could still be a nuisance, but a threat to the station?  Not likely.  Just the same, Garak makes a mental note to keep his nose to the wind.  If that inglorious snake comes near he will know of it. 

    At some point today he must find time to 'make the rounds' among his last few remaining allies.  If Dukat does reach the station bent on revenge, and if the rumours that trickle into the pint glasses at Quark's regarding the direction of the war have any truth to them either, a deadly concoction could be brewing here, and Garak has more than just himself to think about now.

    Julian is uniformed and awake and grinning as he pads into the shop.  The door opens letting in music and voices from outside, smells of food and Bajorans, and then slides closed again leaving only Julian.  Hands behind his back, he strolls in looking mischievous at the very least, conspiratorial and cute.  Garak finds himself disarmed, suddenly, in awe.  Suddenly not even a taunting Cardassian pawn can keep him angry.  Julian stops short of where Garak is standing, looks around a bit, just enough to be sure they are alone, and then advances, takes Garak's hands and gently guides him backwards around his crates of dresses and past the curtain into one of the tiny changing rooms.  Garak chuckles as his knees hit the seat and he is forced down onto a small pile of forgotten clothing.

    Julian scrabbles at the curtain behind him, closing it more or less and diving for Elim's face at the same time.  He takes Elim's lips, smiling, licks them, bites them gently, tastes inside for his tongue and bites that too.  Feels like it's been ages not hours since he last touched him.  He's hard and heavy and he pulls Elim up to stand again, launches him against the wall this time so he can press against him, let him feel it. Garak insibilates when he does, sizzles and grips him by his shoulder and hip and presses him harder to his groin.  He delves deeply into his mouth, then nibblesucks down his jaw and neck.  Julian has to stifle a moan inside a quivering jaw, still aware of where they are, but barely caring.
    This is, at the very best, extremely risky.  No lock on the door, no door on the room, no room for misinterpretation, but, oh, the risks he would take for this.  It seems Garak's is not the only appetite that has been whetted.  Amazing what a little time and patience can produce, amazing the rewards.  Elim smiles and tastes his warm-blooded lips, feeling the heat move down his front like warm honey dripping from their mouths and pooling in his belly.  Julian is writhing against him absolutely without inhibition, kissing, licking at his neck ridges and between the scales, since he learned that trick, and that thing he keeps pressing into his hip - Garak wants that.  He wants it a lot.  Wants to kiss it.  Wants to suck it.  Then he laughs because in sixty seconds Julian has turned him from a man ready to erupt to a man incapable of thinking thoughts more complex than kiss, lick, suck, fuck.  Such a beautiful man.

    "Julian?"

    Everything stops and Julian's ears ring bright and loud.  He peels his lips soundlessly and painfully away from Elim's, sucks them into his own mouth and stares left as if there was something he could see beyond the curtain.

    "Julian?" comes the voice again.   "I know you're in here," Jadzia chuckles, "I saw you walk through the door."

    Julian looks wide-eyed at Garak who can only return the expression.  Garak honestly can't remember the last time he felt this cornered; and for what?  He isn't stealing information or arranging the untimely demise of some foreign dignitary - no, he is necking in a greenroom with a young man, about to be discovered by the woman with the biggest mouth on the station.

    They can hear Jadzia's footsteps as she walks the perimeter of the room, looking for his hiding place.  Julian leans back against the wall opposite Garak and peeks through a break in the curtain.  The light from the shop cuts a slice down Julian's face setting that one eye to glowing gold and the corner of his mouth rich pink.

    "I'm going to find you," she sing-songs, and Julian swallows hard.  "Why are you avoiding me, hm?  What happened to us having that little conversation this weekend?"  She approaches closely, and Julian thinks he should say something, opens his mouth to do so, nervously, but then Elim is shooing at him and shaking his head violently.  Another step closer and she stops.  She wouldn't look in the changing rooms.

    But then she does.  She swings open the curtain of the first of the two tiny changing rooms with a quick swipe and Julian jumps a little.  That woman has no boundaries, no bloody respect.

    "Well then.  Only one place you could be-"

    Julian pops out around the curtain thrashing it closed behind him and making Jadzia jump a little too.  She laughs and smiles brightly.  She has a white flower in her hair with a small curl of ribbon the same rose red as the festival hangings on the promenade.

    "What are you doing in there?"

    He stammers.  Of course he does.  "In here?  Well.  Changing."

    "Where's Garak?"

    "Oh...he...popped out for a minute."  

    "I didn't see him leave."

    "Oh I know.  He popped out a while ago.  But just for a minute."

    "I see."

    "He doesn't mind me being here when he's not here.  You know."  Julian picks a short lime-green taffeta dress from a half-deconstructed display and swings it around.  "To try things on or what have you.  He actually asked me to just keep an eye on the place, but I thought, while I'm here..."

    "You'd try on a lime-green party dress?"  Jadzia follows the flashy garment with her eyes as he gestures with it erratically.

    "Yeah.  No."  He laughs out loud.  "No, not this.  This is.  This is for you!  I saw this and thought you'd like it."

    Jadzia clearly isn't buying it, but neither does she seem to care what his reason is for being in the tailor's shop.  Julian is flustered, obviously, but frustrated too, Garak can tell.  The man knows how to lie and how to deceive, but it gives him grief to use that on some people.  Jadzia takes the dress from Julian's hands as Garak watches from the crack in the curtain, tosses it over the rack again and stares Julian down.  "Julian.  I really need to talk to you."

    "Uhm.  Okay."

    "It's about me and Worf."

    "Uhm.  Shouldn't we be heading to the senior staff meeting?"

    "What?  I thought we were going to talk."

    "Well can we do it on the way?"  Julian is edging toward the door.

    "No!  This is going to take longer than the thirty seconds it takes to get to Ops, Julian.  Do you really not have more time than that to spare for me?"

    "Oh.  Uhm.  Well.  Not at the moment.  I really need to be at this meeting, and-"

    "What about Garak?" she accuses.

    Garak watches as Julian freezes in the doorway.  Jadzia isn't chasing him because she's a smart girl.  She stands planted, hands on hips right where Julian left her.  Julian is too nervous to pick her meaning from her words.  He's thinking about getting out of there without the two of them being discovered, and he's thinking about getting her out of there before she tells him something that Garak isn't meant to hear.  That's the kind of thing that would eat him alive, even if it were something small.  Guilt and Julian do not mix well.

    "I thought you were watching his store for him."

    "Oh!  Yes.  Well, he'll be back any second now.  We really should be going."  Julian waits for her just outside the door.

    Garak thinks that where she is standing, he could probably reach one arm out of the changing room and knock her out.  Then they could make a quick escape before she woke up again.  Granted there would be explanations later, but at least they would have time to invent them while she regained consciousness.

    She relieves him of the obligation, though, and sighs and follows him out the door.  Garak relaxes a little and listens, hears her complain, "You had time to watch Garak's store but you don't have time to talk to me."

    Julian replies defensively, "We have the meeting to go to."

    Garak creeps from the changing room to the door to listen as they walk away, make sure they are quite gone before he emerges.

    "Sometimes I think the two of you should just get connected at the hip and be done with it," Jadzia says.

    Garak chuckles to himself and hears Julian echo it.  They are of one mind on that topic.  "Nah.  The Chief would get jealous," Julian retorts as they make their way around the bend.

..............................

    Julian and Jadzia arrive at the meeting, rather early, although that is the norm for most of the senior staff anyway, and he watches as Jadzia seems to switch on like a light when she enters the room and locks eyes with Worf.  He smiles to himself and makes a mental note to try not to do that in public himself when he sees Elim, and then thinks, ironically, that he probably has that look about him right now, just trying to stop himself from looking like that.  Worf too appears extraordinarily calm and good-humoured.  And why shouldn't he?  Chances are good he will be going off to battle in the very near future, unless the Dominion just decides to give up tomorrow, (unlikely), and he's married to a beautiful woman who (very likely) showed him over lunch how much she loves him, if the mutual glowing going on is any indication.

    He is still a Klingon, though.  Still a beast of a man even shagged out, and he still has the power to make Julian nervous with no trouble at all just by being there when he isn't expecting it.  Like a big hairy spider under a flower pot.  And that is what happens in that moment.  Miles is joking around with Julian as they find their seats, distracting him with commonplace banter, and then suddenly Worf is nearer to Julian than he thought, right behind him, and he stiffens when Worf's face comes even nearer and audibly sniffs the air above Julian's shoulder.  Electricity runs up the back of his skull, making the hair stand on end, and heat rushes to his cheeks.  Miles is still talking but he can't hear him, and all he can think is that Klingon's have very good olfactory senses.  It is possible that he smells quite strongly of Cardassian as he was so recently pressed nose to toe against one, and like arousal and sweat.  He isn't ready to deal with that.

    Worf cocks his head toward Julian's face, over his shoulder and rumbles privately, "Do I smell chocolate?" 

    An airy laugh escapes Julian's mouth like a bubble of anxiety burst in his throat.  Julian inhales deeply in response.  "All I smell is lilac," he replies with a grin and Worf mock-frowns, leers, and then goes about his business.  If the glowing wasn't enough evidence, the rare appearance of Mr. Worf's sense of humour is definitely indicative of recent deeds, and he flashes Jadzia a wry smile.

    It proves to be the longest senior staff meeting Julian has ever attended.  It might have actually been the shortest.  With the festival still going on outside, Sisko didn't want to keep his officers too long, but it felt like forever.  In his seat between Miles and Kira, Julian wonders how sex so quickly becomes an all encompassing thought process that he can't walk away for even a fraction of a day without thinking about it.  Though, he supposes, if you spend enough time at it, it's like anything else, your body and brain just get used to it.  Like the way your feet and balance get so used to hoverskates that after a few hours you forget how to walk without them.  Julian smirks stupidly.  They spent so much of the past two days naked and twisted in the sheets he practically forgot how to not have an erection.  The thought makes him uncomfortable and hot and he thinks he's forgetting again.  He also thinks it's pretty remarkable how easy it is to forget how much it hurt.  He could swear it hurt a lot.  Could swear.  And yet he can't wait to go right back there.  He knows that is what is waiting for him, that's the crazy thing.  He knows it's going to happen again tonight and he can't look to it with anything other than avid anticipation.

    The meeting, though, is a veritable roller coaster of anticipation and worry and exultation for Julian.  While his attention wanders away from the conversation at once to a landscape of soft grey scales and sparkling blue eyes contained within his own head, it is snapped back to now over and over when the word Cardassian escapes the mouth of one of his coworkers as they refer to the Dominion, the enemy's fleet, the casualty reports.  He is torn between the two factions of his mind.  On one hand he has this amazing new thing budding and springing to life within him, and on the other, he has these triggers sparking fear hot and cold within him and setting him to compulsively recalculate the likelihood of total loss.  When the meeting breaks up finally it feels like a cool breeze wafting over Julian's sweat-prickled body at the peak of an enormous hill on that roller coaster.  They crest the hill together, standing at the table, and trace it's path with their eyes winding through the station.  They file out of the ward room single file, down that hill, down the stairs into ops, down faster still into the racket of the promenade with smiles and rushing excitement before spilling out there at the bottom in front of Quark's.  Julian meanders on a bewildered path through the booths and entertainers and celebrants along a familiar strip of floor.  The lights, sounds, banners, everything is different and astonishing to see as if the station had been replaced by a spring carnival completely.  Children run in figure eights around him, laughing, groups of people sway to the motion of music filling the air.  Julian samples the Bajoran foods, admires the performers.  He watches his friends do the same as they each wander away in their own bubbles of sensory overload.  By and by each one is obfuscated by the crowd, and Julian walks on automatic pilot toward the infirmary, his center, even as all this goes on around him, transitioning from participant, a being captivated and linked to this gathering by the shining smiles of Jadzia and Miles and Kira, to merely a contemplative observer. 

    The last time the promenade was decorated and filled so with people, Julian spent his evening chasing Garak in circles around the place.  He smiles privately to himself as he approaches the entrance to the infirmary, wondering where he is right now, if they will reenact it, playing hide and seek in a thicket of Bajorans like the children.  That could be fun.  Could also be a bit of a challenge, spies not being the easiest people to detect.

    The infirmary draws him in like it does every day of his life regardless of what else he has on his plate or on his mind, because it's there.  No one else is, however.  Two nurses stand at the doorway and smile at him as he walks in, but the place is empty inside.  Julian is disappointed, somehow.  He has no idea where Garak is.  Wouldn't know where to start looking in this crowd.  Garak, on the other hand knows where to find him all the time, so he just has to wait for that to happen, and in the mean time, he has to find some way to occupy himself.

   Time slides by in measured moments to the rhythm of the band outside.  They're lively and enjoyable even from across the promenade and half inside the infirmary.  It's winding down though.   Afternoon wanes and the band announces their last number, people start to gather their children and beg off from their friends.   Julian is about to give in to the temptation to people watch in the doorway with the two nurses when his hand is lightly captured from behind him.  He jumps, but remains silent as he turns to find Garak crouched behind a corner console with a finger to his smiling lips.  He stands and pulls Julian like a parade float into his office without a single soul noticing their disappearance.  The door slides shut behind them and closes out all but a muffled hum from the noise outside and Julian smiles broadly, fully and with his whole face, slinks heavy arms over Elim's shoulders, accepts strong hands beneath each shoulder blade with relish, and presses his lips to Elim's.  The kiss breaks wetly but quietly and Julian turns and touches the lock on the door.

    That is better.  Better than just a thin curtain between them and the rest of the world.  Now it is Garak's turn to be ravenous.

    Julian grins at him.  "How did you get in here?"

    Elim doesn't answer except to kiss him again, so Julian takes that to mean he isn't going to get an answer to that one.  He resigns himself to enjoying that warm uninhibited smile, something rarely seen on Elim's face, or any Cardassian's face for that matter, interrupted by soft kisses to his lips, and a weak stretch in his chest as Elim takes Julian's hands out away from his body and then folds them behind Julian's own back.  "You know I have to leave again for the ceremony in a few minutes."  Elim doesn't respond to that either, but Julian didn't really expect him to, didn't really want him to.
    Then he is backing him up slowly to the desk, lets go of his hands, and grabs him under the thighs and hoists him up to the desk top.  Julian laughs into his mouth because it's a silly thing to do.  He and Elim are almost the same height, he's actually just a little taller than Elim, and putting him up on the desk does nothing to even out their heights or make them more accessible to each other.  You do this with a woman, with someone shorter than you to put her face at your level.  That apparently wasn't his motivation, though, since once there propped on the desk, Elim bends forward with his mouth still against Julian's, pressing him back into the wall until his spine forms against it and Elim's weight presses him down to the desk top.  Rather, his motivation seems to be Julian's awkward and giggling discomfort and his goal to pin him like an entomological specimen to the wall.  Elim's left knee comes up to the desktop and his hands seal Julian's to the smooth surface too.  Julian feels sagged and glued to the spot and he can't stop smiling as his mouth is licked and nibbled away.  Then he has to sigh contentment when Elim kisses his way over to his neck, stretches his body up, lifting himself up on strong arms with his hands on top of Julian's hands, pressurizing them and forcing Julian into that state where he was two nights ago, pliant and accepting, because all that weight on the back of his hands, even with the padding of Elim's soft palms between, would hurt if he were not relaxed.  Elim laps at his neck and it's like he hits some kind of invisible winch below his ear.  With every lick, Julian finds his back arching, and rather than being slumped in on himself he is gasping for air and his chest comes out in defense against the maddening wet stroke of his tongue, lifting Elim with strength he doesn't possess when not chased by a devil.  His spine feels like a taut archer's bow.

    Elim stops his licking and sucking at his pulse, and hums, growls lowly in his ear just audible over Julian's panting.  "Do you have any idea what I am going to do to you tonight?"

   A little noise escapes Julian's open mouth, and he is suddenly able to jerk his sweaty palms out from under Elim's, causing him to falter and his chin to come down onto Julian's chest.  Julian grabs his head and suffocates him with his own mouth.  A couple of padds hit the floor and Julian couldn't care less.  He is bucking under Elim and pulling his body to him, trying to get to him, get as close as possible, closer, inside of him, crawl into his skin right through his clothes.  Elim is still off balance from this attack and slides down a bit toward the floor; Julian hangs on, and when they land on their feet, Garak on his, Julian on Garak's, Julian launches forward and crumples him to the ground.

    It is Garak's turn to laugh now too.  Julian is pulling at his shirt even as he is laying on it on a stunned backside.  He lets his head clunk to the ground and laughs while Julian tries to eat him alive and peel back his clothing at the same time.  Eventually he finds the strength to push him back a little, hold him tightly to himself with one hand at the small of his back (and Julian grinds into him when he does - and doesn't that feel amazing) and hold his upper body away for just a moment, long enough to look him in the eye.  "My dear, what do you think we're going to do in the five minutes before you have to leave?"

    Julian seems to acknowledge hearing the question as he pauses, but then chooses to ignore it (Garak ignored his questions after all) and dives for Garak's neck again.  He shuts his eyes tight and stifles his laughter best he can, struggles with the young, warm man plastered to him like velcro, and finally rolls them over to pin him to the floor instead, panting.  He looks wild-eyed and hungry, and Garak can not fucking wait to wipe that look off his face - but he will have to.  He studies his needful expression with a sanguine smile and rocks his hips slowly against Julian's, rubbing with his pelvic bone up Julian's shaft through their clothes.  Julian whines a little.

    "I'm sorry, my love," he whispers.  "I only came here to steal a kiss and remind you of our date tonight.  I didn't mean to tease you.  Much."

    He whines again, just a speck.  "Do you really expect me to be able to walk out that door without waddling right now?"

    Garak smiles and pecks him quickly on the lips.  "You have a couple of minutes yet to collect yourself."  Julian is still giving him that look.  "I also came to ask you if you would meet me for dinner."

    Julian tries not to look panicky but thinks he probably failed for a split second, long enough for Elim to catch it.  He really didn't want there to be any further delay after the ceremony.

    Elim chuckles again.  "We haven't shared a meal in a few days without being naked while doing so."

    "I liked that."

    "As did I," he responds and makes no further argument because he knows he doesn't' need to.

    "Alright," Julian says with a bashful smile that warms quickly.  They would have to eat at some point.  Might as well do that first so there won't be any interruptions later.

    Elim crawls off of him and gets to his feet, offers Julian his hand.  Julian takes it and uses his momentum to crash gently into Elim as soon as he is standing, wraps his arms around him again and takes his mouth.  Kissing, kissing, kissing, warmth and wet inside and that want keeps on rising instead of abating.  If he had any sense at all in his head he would see the connection inherent there and stop kissing him, but that seems like a ridiculous idea, really.  He takes a few deep breaths through his nose and then has to chuckle again.  "Is it my imagination or is this the longest day in history?"

   Elim bites his tongue.  He is so turned on there is the potential for so much to come spilling out of his mouth right now.  He wants to describe to him in exotic detail exactly how long he can make time stretch out with the simplest tools; a cane, some rope.  They will get there.  For now he says nothing on it but to smile and kiss his temple.  "I will be waiting for you at Quark's."

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