Present for slash4femme
Title: Vintage
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Garak/Bashir
Warnings: Slash, foodplay
Recipient: Anna E. O. /slash4femme
Julian gasped, feeling moisture roll off his shoulders in slick rivulets. He took another breath of dry, blistering air, and forced the words out. “O-once. A-Almost. ”
The hands caressing his clavicles slowed, but did not stop. “Oh? Do tell, Doctor. No doubt that was an interesting experience.”
“G-Garak.” Julian arched upward, hoping that the movement would nudge those glorious hands further down his body. “It was ... it was a long time a-a-ago.”
“Precisely. You know I do find any stories about your youth utterly fascinating.”
The hands were skimming the surface of Julian's skin now, the lack of pressure heightening his arousal even more than the gentle kneading had done. When Julian groaned, he could almost see that pleased, serpentine grin Garak loved to flash when he was being particularly devious or deliberately obtuse.
“I can only imagine what the circumstances might have been that would have allowed you an opportunity to make love in a vineyard.”
Fingertips trailed down his neck and Julian knew that this maddening teasing would continue. He'd been foolish to rise to the bait. It would have been better to just close his eyes and limit his vocal interaction with the Cardassian to moans, sighs and the occasional “Oh God, just there!” But he'd opened the door with his damnable big mouth, and he would have to walk through it if he wanted to get those hands where he desperately needed them.
Julian angled up on his elbows, squinting against the bright Cardassian sun. Before him, on his knees, was Garak, scales and ridges shimmering like new latinum, his jet hair slightly askew. Bashir licked his lips and Garak smiled politely, but the desire in the cornflower eyes was plain. Julian almost groaned again when Garak slowly released him and sat back on his haunches, waiting, eyes narrowed.
“I was on leave from Starfleet Medical. The woman I was seeing seriously at that time invited me to visit some relatives of hers. They owned a chateau and a vineyard in the Upper Loire Valley. That is in the nation-state of France, on Earth. It is famed for its wines.”
“It sounds like an enchanting place.”
“It was lovely. Her family was quite well-to-do. The property had been theirs for centuries.” Julian tried to swallow away the dustiness in his mouth. “At any rate, Palis and I took a private tour of the vineyard one afternoon. Along the way, she pointed out a small clearing where she said that once, when she was a child playing with some of her relatives, they'd all come across two laborers who were quite obviously making love. None of them knew what was going on at the time, of course. They were children; they all thought it was a game of some sort … only played naked.” Julian half smiled. “Palis said no one ever said a word about what they'd seen, but she'd wondered what it would be like to be naked, rolling around in the fresh-tilled soil, amongst the vines … the clusters of grapes … out there in the sun and the open air.”
“Ah.” Garak's rich, cultured voice made Julian shiver. “Your lover was quite a hedonist, then. You do have good taste, my dear. Go on.”
“She suggested we … well, find out for ourselves what it would be like.” Julian felt his body flush, but he was not sure if it was due to the memory or Garak's hands suddenly tracing circles on his thighs. “I, um, said that would be a bad idea. She tried to persuade me, but I refused.”
“I'm surprised. I would have thought such a situation would have appealed to your sense of adventure. After all, you do seem to have an appetite for the slightly unusual.”
“Yes …” Julian murmured, still tasting Garak's essence on his lips. It mixed with the sharp-sweet toloc that he had sipped earlier, the combined flavors making Julian's head spin. His mind brought him back to that moment, only hours ago now, that he'd had his mouth around Garak's wide, pulsing cock, counting the stifled gasps from the older man before it had all been over in a burst of tangy liquid on his tongue. Julian had lapped at the cock afterward, marveling that it did not seem to go soft, and that the liquid continued to leak out of it like nectar from a chartl'tl blossom. Garak had needed only a short time before he'd begun an assault of all of Julian's senses.
“Why did you refuse her then?”
“Her family was setting up a picnic on the edge of the vineyard. I was nervous. Her father was a respected doctor and I wanted him to like me. I didn't think I'd endear myself to him if he or his wife had caught me bare-assed in the throes of passion with their daughter, possibly causing irreperable damage to their very delicate and expensive plants.”
“Very practical of you. But I'm sure your lady friend was disappointed.”
“That's an understatement. She barely spoke to me for the rest of the trip. She thought we'd missed a wonderful opportunity. When we'd broken up, I thought about that day and felt maybe she'd been right. I'd let a chance to be completely irresponsible and reckless slip right through my fingers.”
“Ah, yes … until now, of course.” The hands were back, trailing up and down the sides of Julian's body, raising gooseflesh in their wake. Bashir let his head drift back.
“Yes … until … now … ahhh …”
He was being pushed back onto the ground again. Another trickle of moisture flowed down his neck and chest, and he moaned when he felt Garak's hot tongue lave the wet skin, moving in slow, deliberate licks, like a connoseiur. Liquid had pooled in Julian's navel and he squirmed when the tongue swirled around before lapping up the remainder. This was, Julian knew, the very definition of Cardassian lovemaking - a slow buildup, the drawn-out tease, and then an all-out assault once the defenses had been broken down. Garak being Garak, of course, had to add his own twist to things, and Julian lay helpless, splayed on the ground beneath the broiling sun, the tension in his body ratcheting up again to nearly unbearable levels.
He'd stopped thinking rationally 72 hours before when he'd arrived with the Starfleet Medical convoy with supplies and inoculations against a series of retroviruses that were plaguing the still-shattered planet. Julian had not known why he'd signed on for the mission. Everyone in Starfleet now wanted to go to Cardassia - one could make his or her career there. But because of his genetic enhancements, he had no chance of advancement or promotion, even if he were able to set Cardassia to rights singlehandedly. Nor was he running from problems on the station. Kira was settling into command quite nicely, and as he was the lone remaining member of the original senior staff, Julian had prestige aboard DS9. His romance with Ezri had fizzled, but just as with Leeta, he had seen it coming and was philosophical about it. And Ezri, with the knowledge of the Daxes before her, had been gracious. They still dined together occasionally and he forsaw them being the best of friends some day.
So he had no demons to chase away, no career to make, nothing truly to offer the Cardassian people that hundreds upon hundreds of Starfleet doctors weren't willing to give. So he'd had to be honest with himself when he'd beamed down to Cardassia Prime with his colleagues that his sole reason for coming was to see Garak again. To see him and to be braver than he'd had cause to desire to be in the past seven years.
“Yes … please …” Julian was panting again. The tongue had abandoned his navel and traveled lower down, tracing the head of his cock and licking along the shaft down to his balls, and up and over, spiraling down and around again and again and again … “Garak, please -”
Julian felt another squirt of liquid on his belly, and he risked cracking his eyes open, nearly growling at the sight of Garak looking down at him, decandantly squeezing another handful of the grape-like chartl'tl fruit over him, sending deliciously scented juice and pulp down his long, lean body. He caught Garak's eyes briefly, saw the Cardassian's hands and mouth stained bright blue with juice. Brilliant white teeth flashed and the head dipped again, delicately lapping at the liquid as it trickled down, pooling at the base of his cock.
He'd not been in contact with Garak during the eight-month interim between their last encounter. But Kira had 'friends' on Cardassia - a rich irony, considering everything - who relayed to her all the latest news. So he'd known before he'd set out Garak's fate. Julian had known that Garak was not a leading citizen, or on the newly reconfigured Detapa council, or in any way, shape or form heading the charge of rebuilding his ruined world. Julian had known before he'd stepped onto the hot, sandy soil of Cardassia Prime that the new government, wanting to purge the past and avoid making similar mistakes, had taken steps to ensure that Cardassia would be remade in a certain image - one that had no room for uncomfortable reminders of its militaristic past.
To that end, all those who had been proven to have ties to the military brain that had dragged Cardassia into war with the Federation and later had occupied Bajor and all those who were 'enemy combatants' of another kind, were rousted up and deposited in a stretch of fertile land far from the city's centers. They were charged to help the state rebuild itself by producing food, clothing, replicating medicines. Menial jobs that were once done by the lower rungs of Cardassian society now shifting onto those who once wielded power - and cruelty, along with that power.
When Kira had told him, Julian did not have to puzzle it out for very long. The Obsidian Order was one of the most feared and hated organizations Cardassia had ever known. Garak, as a known member, and second-in-command of Enabran Tain, would be targeted for this “reordering” of society. He'd sent subspace message after subspace message inquiring as to Garak's welfare, his whereabouts, his well-being. All had gone unanswered.
“Ooh … God, yes -”
Julian's breath left him in a his when the darting tongue withdrew. Strong hands grasped his thighs, coaxing them apart. Julian knew that he couldn't hold his breath through what was to come, but somehow he could help himself. As he felt slow fingers, slick with something, probe the entrance to his body, he found he couldn't breathe properly; his head began to swim. The vines. Garak had said the vines of the chartl'tl contained a very slippery sap, often used in preparations for Cardassian scales and ridges. Garak had described one of the used of chartl'tl sap as a sort of protectant against the relentless sun, but Julian now saw it had other uses - it did nicely as lubrication, for example.
The unknown. That was what had propelled Julian to join the Federation's medical relief effort. Nothing else. Not knowing whether Garak was alive or caught up in the long-buried hatred of his people was what had decided him. The moment he'd set foot on Cardassia, Julian had made inquiries. And they had brought him to this God-forsaken place - a valley in a desert world, where nothing grew except the tangled vines of a plant Julian could barely pronounce. A small hovel at the edge of the vast vineyard belonged to his Cardassian friend. Julian had known as soon as Garak had stepped out of the cottage - he'd known, perhaps something that Garak himself had not known. Tain had his revenge.
Julian knew it and it made him want to hit something, anything. He remembered all those years ago, when he'd dared to face Tain in a bid to save Garak from losing his life to the Obsidian wire. He remembered being nervous throughout, but the only moment of fear came when Tain had faced him squarely and said that he wanted Garak to grow old on Deep Space Nine, surrounded by people who hated him, knowing that he could never go home. The utter loathing Julian had seen in the older man's eyes made his blood run cold. It sickened him now that he knew what Tain truly had been to Garak. But it angered him because it had come to pass as Tain had wanted - except Garak was home now. Among his people. His people - who hated what he had been and were exacting revenge.
It was nothing more than a second exile, and instead of making his modest living hemming trousers - he was given a plot of land and told by the government to spend the rest of his days cultivating chartl'tl berries into toloc, a Cardassian beverage reminiscent of Terran wine, but sweeter. We Cardassians do love our sweets, Doctor, was all Garak had said when Julian had questioned him. He'd mentioned that toloc was overtaking kanar in popularity, simply because it was easier to brew and cheaper. Julian's blood curdled when he thought of those in the new government toasting the rebuilding of their world with a beverage made by a man they held in such contempt, they would not allow him to come within the limits of any of the major cities on pain of imprisonment - or worse. The injustice made Julian wish the Federation would just leave the damned Cardassians to it. Let them rebuild their burned-out hulk of a world alone. Then see how little they needed those of Garak's abilities and experience. Yes, Garak had done unspeakable things in the name of the state and against certain members of the Cardassian public, but that was the past - shouldn't it be left there? The past was the past - but as Garak had explained, there was nothing left to his people but the past and the future. If they couldn't find solace in one, they would find solace in the other.
“Elim … slowly - slowly …”
Julian forced lungfuls of air into his body as Garak, now positioned between his legs, gently pressed into him. The Cardassian's thick cock stretched him beyond all endurance, but the pain was not unbearable, and soon, owing to the way the head of his cock angled, Julian was moaning in delirium, trying to push himself further down on the ridged column of flesh. His fingers dug into the sandy soil, trying to gain a foothold as Garak began to rock back and forth. The motion caused his cock to move in a circular motion rather than just in and out, and Julian knew he couldn't hold out very long. From the moment Garak had taken him by the hand and led him out to his vineyard, Bashir had known his waiting was at an end, and that the end was going to come much too soon. He forced himself to open his eyes, to watch Garak gaze down at him, panting with every movement, to feel his own body wind in on itself like an overwrought watch spring, to see Garak's shaking hand with another cluster of chartl'tl berries clasped in it raise to his sight and then squeeze another stream of its juice on his shoulder. The grey face burrowed beneath his chin and Julian cried out, his cum slicking the space between their bodies. He jerked bonelessly as he felt Garak suck the juice off his skin, sharp teeth nipping as he lapped up every drop.
-*-
Forty-eight hours later, Julian stared out into the tombish calm of space from the U.S.S. Pushkin, which was his transport back to the station from Cardassia Prime. Several of his colleagues had tried to engage him in conversation, but he simply waved them off with excuses that he was tired from the mission. And now he sat alone in his quarters, lost in his musings. In truth, he was thinking about Garak and what would become of him.
It wasn't fair - he'd been more than willing to sacrifice his life for his people, and this is how they repaid him - to turn the 'plain and simple' tailor into a 'plain and simple' farmer? Garak had commented dryly that he'd grown to like horticulture while on assignment on Romulus posing as a gardener. But he never thought it would be taken to this extreme.
Before they had parted, it had been on the tip of his tongue to ask Garak to go back to DS9 with him. They could be together. They could build … something … be something that was greater than the sum of their parts; that much was obvious from the afternoon they'd spent together in Garak's vineyard. But he'd read the cobalt eyes and tabled the question. And he'd understood - despite the indignities, to Garak, he was home. The station might be more comfortable, it might be more hospitable, and he would certainly have more company - but it would never be his home. And so Julian had parted from his friend with a promise to visit during shore leave. Garak had assured him that the chartl'tl was a perrennial, and so the vineyard would be as he remembered it.
Smiling, Julian prodded his traveling valise with his toe, hearing the clink of bottles within. Before he'd left, Garak had insisted he take bottles of toloc to “the lovely Colonel and Counselor” and also to Quark, as it might be advantageous to open up talks with the Ferengi to sell toloc on the station in order to turn a greater profit for himself. And he had given Julian a special bottle - one that had a dark label, no writing. It was, Garak had said, a special blend that was for Julian's lips alone, made from many of the berries they'd … sampled that afternoon. Julian couldn't wait until he was back in his quarters so that he could sample and remember what had been the single most sensual experience of his life. He thought of Palis and the residue of regret he had over that He was glad now that he had not romped with Palis so long ago. No matter how amazing it might have been, it would not have compared. Nothing could; he knew that now.
His smile turned to a grin and he dug the bottle out and studied it fondly. Why wait until he reached the station? Unlike wine, Garak had cautioned that toloc did not age well. Working the cork out with his thumb, Julian looked out toward Cardassian space and raised the bottle in toast. Taking a sip, he silently praised Garak's green thumb and began counting the days until his next leave.
End
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Garak/Bashir
Warnings: Slash, foodplay
Recipient: Anna E. O. /slash4femme
Julian gasped, feeling moisture roll off his shoulders in slick rivulets. He took another breath of dry, blistering air, and forced the words out. “O-once. A-Almost. ”
The hands caressing his clavicles slowed, but did not stop. “Oh? Do tell, Doctor. No doubt that was an interesting experience.”
“G-Garak.” Julian arched upward, hoping that the movement would nudge those glorious hands further down his body. “It was ... it was a long time a-a-ago.”
“Precisely. You know I do find any stories about your youth utterly fascinating.”
The hands were skimming the surface of Julian's skin now, the lack of pressure heightening his arousal even more than the gentle kneading had done. When Julian groaned, he could almost see that pleased, serpentine grin Garak loved to flash when he was being particularly devious or deliberately obtuse.
“I can only imagine what the circumstances might have been that would have allowed you an opportunity to make love in a vineyard.”
Fingertips trailed down his neck and Julian knew that this maddening teasing would continue. He'd been foolish to rise to the bait. It would have been better to just close his eyes and limit his vocal interaction with the Cardassian to moans, sighs and the occasional “Oh God, just there!” But he'd opened the door with his damnable big mouth, and he would have to walk through it if he wanted to get those hands where he desperately needed them.
Julian angled up on his elbows, squinting against the bright Cardassian sun. Before him, on his knees, was Garak, scales and ridges shimmering like new latinum, his jet hair slightly askew. Bashir licked his lips and Garak smiled politely, but the desire in the cornflower eyes was plain. Julian almost groaned again when Garak slowly released him and sat back on his haunches, waiting, eyes narrowed.
“I was on leave from Starfleet Medical. The woman I was seeing seriously at that time invited me to visit some relatives of hers. They owned a chateau and a vineyard in the Upper Loire Valley. That is in the nation-state of France, on Earth. It is famed for its wines.”
“It sounds like an enchanting place.”
“It was lovely. Her family was quite well-to-do. The property had been theirs for centuries.” Julian tried to swallow away the dustiness in his mouth. “At any rate, Palis and I took a private tour of the vineyard one afternoon. Along the way, she pointed out a small clearing where she said that once, when she was a child playing with some of her relatives, they'd all come across two laborers who were quite obviously making love. None of them knew what was going on at the time, of course. They were children; they all thought it was a game of some sort … only played naked.” Julian half smiled. “Palis said no one ever said a word about what they'd seen, but she'd wondered what it would be like to be naked, rolling around in the fresh-tilled soil, amongst the vines … the clusters of grapes … out there in the sun and the open air.”
“Ah.” Garak's rich, cultured voice made Julian shiver. “Your lover was quite a hedonist, then. You do have good taste, my dear. Go on.”
“She suggested we … well, find out for ourselves what it would be like.” Julian felt his body flush, but he was not sure if it was due to the memory or Garak's hands suddenly tracing circles on his thighs. “I, um, said that would be a bad idea. She tried to persuade me, but I refused.”
“I'm surprised. I would have thought such a situation would have appealed to your sense of adventure. After all, you do seem to have an appetite for the slightly unusual.”
“Yes …” Julian murmured, still tasting Garak's essence on his lips. It mixed with the sharp-sweet toloc that he had sipped earlier, the combined flavors making Julian's head spin. His mind brought him back to that moment, only hours ago now, that he'd had his mouth around Garak's wide, pulsing cock, counting the stifled gasps from the older man before it had all been over in a burst of tangy liquid on his tongue. Julian had lapped at the cock afterward, marveling that it did not seem to go soft, and that the liquid continued to leak out of it like nectar from a chartl'tl blossom. Garak had needed only a short time before he'd begun an assault of all of Julian's senses.
“Why did you refuse her then?”
“Her family was setting up a picnic on the edge of the vineyard. I was nervous. Her father was a respected doctor and I wanted him to like me. I didn't think I'd endear myself to him if he or his wife had caught me bare-assed in the throes of passion with their daughter, possibly causing irreperable damage to their very delicate and expensive plants.”
“Very practical of you. But I'm sure your lady friend was disappointed.”
“That's an understatement. She barely spoke to me for the rest of the trip. She thought we'd missed a wonderful opportunity. When we'd broken up, I thought about that day and felt maybe she'd been right. I'd let a chance to be completely irresponsible and reckless slip right through my fingers.”
“Ah, yes … until now, of course.” The hands were back, trailing up and down the sides of Julian's body, raising gooseflesh in their wake. Bashir let his head drift back.
“Yes … until … now … ahhh …”
He was being pushed back onto the ground again. Another trickle of moisture flowed down his neck and chest, and he moaned when he felt Garak's hot tongue lave the wet skin, moving in slow, deliberate licks, like a connoseiur. Liquid had pooled in Julian's navel and he squirmed when the tongue swirled around before lapping up the remainder. This was, Julian knew, the very definition of Cardassian lovemaking - a slow buildup, the drawn-out tease, and then an all-out assault once the defenses had been broken down. Garak being Garak, of course, had to add his own twist to things, and Julian lay helpless, splayed on the ground beneath the broiling sun, the tension in his body ratcheting up again to nearly unbearable levels.
He'd stopped thinking rationally 72 hours before when he'd arrived with the Starfleet Medical convoy with supplies and inoculations against a series of retroviruses that were plaguing the still-shattered planet. Julian had not known why he'd signed on for the mission. Everyone in Starfleet now wanted to go to Cardassia - one could make his or her career there. But because of his genetic enhancements, he had no chance of advancement or promotion, even if he were able to set Cardassia to rights singlehandedly. Nor was he running from problems on the station. Kira was settling into command quite nicely, and as he was the lone remaining member of the original senior staff, Julian had prestige aboard DS9. His romance with Ezri had fizzled, but just as with Leeta, he had seen it coming and was philosophical about it. And Ezri, with the knowledge of the Daxes before her, had been gracious. They still dined together occasionally and he forsaw them being the best of friends some day.
So he had no demons to chase away, no career to make, nothing truly to offer the Cardassian people that hundreds upon hundreds of Starfleet doctors weren't willing to give. So he'd had to be honest with himself when he'd beamed down to Cardassia Prime with his colleagues that his sole reason for coming was to see Garak again. To see him and to be braver than he'd had cause to desire to be in the past seven years.
“Yes … please …” Julian was panting again. The tongue had abandoned his navel and traveled lower down, tracing the head of his cock and licking along the shaft down to his balls, and up and over, spiraling down and around again and again and again … “Garak, please -”
Julian felt another squirt of liquid on his belly, and he risked cracking his eyes open, nearly growling at the sight of Garak looking down at him, decandantly squeezing another handful of the grape-like chartl'tl fruit over him, sending deliciously scented juice and pulp down his long, lean body. He caught Garak's eyes briefly, saw the Cardassian's hands and mouth stained bright blue with juice. Brilliant white teeth flashed and the head dipped again, delicately lapping at the liquid as it trickled down, pooling at the base of his cock.
He'd not been in contact with Garak during the eight-month interim between their last encounter. But Kira had 'friends' on Cardassia - a rich irony, considering everything - who relayed to her all the latest news. So he'd known before he'd set out Garak's fate. Julian had known that Garak was not a leading citizen, or on the newly reconfigured Detapa council, or in any way, shape or form heading the charge of rebuilding his ruined world. Julian had known before he'd stepped onto the hot, sandy soil of Cardassia Prime that the new government, wanting to purge the past and avoid making similar mistakes, had taken steps to ensure that Cardassia would be remade in a certain image - one that had no room for uncomfortable reminders of its militaristic past.
To that end, all those who had been proven to have ties to the military brain that had dragged Cardassia into war with the Federation and later had occupied Bajor and all those who were 'enemy combatants' of another kind, were rousted up and deposited in a stretch of fertile land far from the city's centers. They were charged to help the state rebuild itself by producing food, clothing, replicating medicines. Menial jobs that were once done by the lower rungs of Cardassian society now shifting onto those who once wielded power - and cruelty, along with that power.
When Kira had told him, Julian did not have to puzzle it out for very long. The Obsidian Order was one of the most feared and hated organizations Cardassia had ever known. Garak, as a known member, and second-in-command of Enabran Tain, would be targeted for this “reordering” of society. He'd sent subspace message after subspace message inquiring as to Garak's welfare, his whereabouts, his well-being. All had gone unanswered.
“Ooh … God, yes -”
Julian's breath left him in a his when the darting tongue withdrew. Strong hands grasped his thighs, coaxing them apart. Julian knew that he couldn't hold his breath through what was to come, but somehow he could help himself. As he felt slow fingers, slick with something, probe the entrance to his body, he found he couldn't breathe properly; his head began to swim. The vines. Garak had said the vines of the chartl'tl contained a very slippery sap, often used in preparations for Cardassian scales and ridges. Garak had described one of the used of chartl'tl sap as a sort of protectant against the relentless sun, but Julian now saw it had other uses - it did nicely as lubrication, for example.
The unknown. That was what had propelled Julian to join the Federation's medical relief effort. Nothing else. Not knowing whether Garak was alive or caught up in the long-buried hatred of his people was what had decided him. The moment he'd set foot on Cardassia, Julian had made inquiries. And they had brought him to this God-forsaken place - a valley in a desert world, where nothing grew except the tangled vines of a plant Julian could barely pronounce. A small hovel at the edge of the vast vineyard belonged to his Cardassian friend. Julian had known as soon as Garak had stepped out of the cottage - he'd known, perhaps something that Garak himself had not known. Tain had his revenge.
Julian knew it and it made him want to hit something, anything. He remembered all those years ago, when he'd dared to face Tain in a bid to save Garak from losing his life to the Obsidian wire. He remembered being nervous throughout, but the only moment of fear came when Tain had faced him squarely and said that he wanted Garak to grow old on Deep Space Nine, surrounded by people who hated him, knowing that he could never go home. The utter loathing Julian had seen in the older man's eyes made his blood run cold. It sickened him now that he knew what Tain truly had been to Garak. But it angered him because it had come to pass as Tain had wanted - except Garak was home now. Among his people. His people - who hated what he had been and were exacting revenge.
It was nothing more than a second exile, and instead of making his modest living hemming trousers - he was given a plot of land and told by the government to spend the rest of his days cultivating chartl'tl berries into toloc, a Cardassian beverage reminiscent of Terran wine, but sweeter. We Cardassians do love our sweets, Doctor, was all Garak had said when Julian had questioned him. He'd mentioned that toloc was overtaking kanar in popularity, simply because it was easier to brew and cheaper. Julian's blood curdled when he thought of those in the new government toasting the rebuilding of their world with a beverage made by a man they held in such contempt, they would not allow him to come within the limits of any of the major cities on pain of imprisonment - or worse. The injustice made Julian wish the Federation would just leave the damned Cardassians to it. Let them rebuild their burned-out hulk of a world alone. Then see how little they needed those of Garak's abilities and experience. Yes, Garak had done unspeakable things in the name of the state and against certain members of the Cardassian public, but that was the past - shouldn't it be left there? The past was the past - but as Garak had explained, there was nothing left to his people but the past and the future. If they couldn't find solace in one, they would find solace in the other.
“Elim … slowly - slowly …”
Julian forced lungfuls of air into his body as Garak, now positioned between his legs, gently pressed into him. The Cardassian's thick cock stretched him beyond all endurance, but the pain was not unbearable, and soon, owing to the way the head of his cock angled, Julian was moaning in delirium, trying to push himself further down on the ridged column of flesh. His fingers dug into the sandy soil, trying to gain a foothold as Garak began to rock back and forth. The motion caused his cock to move in a circular motion rather than just in and out, and Julian knew he couldn't hold out very long. From the moment Garak had taken him by the hand and led him out to his vineyard, Bashir had known his waiting was at an end, and that the end was going to come much too soon. He forced himself to open his eyes, to watch Garak gaze down at him, panting with every movement, to feel his own body wind in on itself like an overwrought watch spring, to see Garak's shaking hand with another cluster of chartl'tl berries clasped in it raise to his sight and then squeeze another stream of its juice on his shoulder. The grey face burrowed beneath his chin and Julian cried out, his cum slicking the space between their bodies. He jerked bonelessly as he felt Garak suck the juice off his skin, sharp teeth nipping as he lapped up every drop.
-*-
Forty-eight hours later, Julian stared out into the tombish calm of space from the U.S.S. Pushkin, which was his transport back to the station from Cardassia Prime. Several of his colleagues had tried to engage him in conversation, but he simply waved them off with excuses that he was tired from the mission. And now he sat alone in his quarters, lost in his musings. In truth, he was thinking about Garak and what would become of him.
It wasn't fair - he'd been more than willing to sacrifice his life for his people, and this is how they repaid him - to turn the 'plain and simple' tailor into a 'plain and simple' farmer? Garak had commented dryly that he'd grown to like horticulture while on assignment on Romulus posing as a gardener. But he never thought it would be taken to this extreme.
Before they had parted, it had been on the tip of his tongue to ask Garak to go back to DS9 with him. They could be together. They could build … something … be something that was greater than the sum of their parts; that much was obvious from the afternoon they'd spent together in Garak's vineyard. But he'd read the cobalt eyes and tabled the question. And he'd understood - despite the indignities, to Garak, he was home. The station might be more comfortable, it might be more hospitable, and he would certainly have more company - but it would never be his home. And so Julian had parted from his friend with a promise to visit during shore leave. Garak had assured him that the chartl'tl was a perrennial, and so the vineyard would be as he remembered it.
Smiling, Julian prodded his traveling valise with his toe, hearing the clink of bottles within. Before he'd left, Garak had insisted he take bottles of toloc to “the lovely Colonel and Counselor” and also to Quark, as it might be advantageous to open up talks with the Ferengi to sell toloc on the station in order to turn a greater profit for himself. And he had given Julian a special bottle - one that had a dark label, no writing. It was, Garak had said, a special blend that was for Julian's lips alone, made from many of the berries they'd … sampled that afternoon. Julian couldn't wait until he was back in his quarters so that he could sample and remember what had been the single most sensual experience of his life. He thought of Palis and the residue of regret he had over that He was glad now that he had not romped with Palis so long ago. No matter how amazing it might have been, it would not have compared. Nothing could; he knew that now.
His smile turned to a grin and he dug the bottle out and studied it fondly. Why wait until he reached the station? Unlike wine, Garak had cautioned that toloc did not age well. Working the cork out with his thumb, Julian looked out toward Cardassian space and raised the bottle in toast. Taking a sip, he silently praised Garak's green thumb and began counting the days until his next leave.
End