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Date: Sat, 31 Jan 2004 11:41:15 -0600
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW DS9: A Little Night Music (G/B) 1/1 [R]
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Title: A Little Night Music
Author: Ainzfern
Originally written for the "Dares Of Scales" list.
Series: DS9
Code: G/B 
Rating: R (Another silliness alert. Hmm. Fancy that...)
Parts: 1/1
Disclaimer: Paramount owns STAR TREK ... etc and so on and so forth! 
My only pay here is personal joy
Summary: Definite PWP. See challenge below. 
entrants are not aware of. At least one main character must enter it. 
The words `Screech', `Violation', `Dogged' and `Aromatherapy' must be 
used. Also, the sentences `Don't be silly, you're not being paranoid, 
of course everyone hates you' and `Well, you can shove that 
particular idea where the sun doesn't shine!'. ***

NB- I may have stretched my challenge a bit here by classifying Morn 
as a main character. Certainly, he was a regular on the show and, by 
the force of his sheer popularity, I reasoned that he could qualify 
as a main character (of sorts). May I be forgiven. 

Oh, and - uhm...apologies to Sondheim.




A Little Night Music

//I really should be more careful to keep my guard up in the 
future,// Garak mused morosely as he stared into his glass. //I mean, 
I *must* be slipping if I actually allowed one of Julian's 
aromatherapy massages to distract me to the point where I agreed to 
*this*.//

The Cardassian heaved a sigh and flashed brittle smile at his 
oblivious beloved. 

He winced then as a particularly shrill note from the current 
performer on the impromptu stage in the corner of Quark's Bar 
assailed his ears.

//Bad enough that I agreed to a night out at Quark's, but a *Karaoke* 
Night? As guests of the O'Brien's?? Great Guls' preserve me.//

He still couldn't quite figure out how it had happened. One moment, 
he was in his right mind, admittedly a very happy, relaxed, musk 
scented and aroused version of it, but still *his*. The next thing he 
knew, Julian had rolled him over and started working those long, 
oiled up fingers over the ridges on his hips and suddenly it 
was... "Of course, Julian! A Karaoke Night sounds <PURR... WRIGGLE> 
absolutely *charming*."

Of course, he had tried to get out of it. 

"You do realize, *dear*, that ethically, what you did to me was 
violation!" Garak had accused his beloved once his senses had 
returned. 

Julian had been unmoved. "That's *utter* nonsense, Elim. You promised 
and we're going. All the dogged Cardassian persistence in the 
universe isn't going to get you out of this."

Garak had stubbornly crossed his arms, his pale eyes blazing. "You 
*tricked* me!"

Julian had looked knowingly at him. "Feeling a little miffed that I 
used one of your own methods against you, eh?"

//Wretched creature.// Garak gave himself a mental shake and returned 
to the present, shooting a hard glare across the table at his 
lover. //I *knew* there had to be a drawback in letting him get to 
know me that well.//

Julian leaned towards him and touched his face gently, speaking 
directly into his ear in order to cut through the surrounding 
noise. "Elim, I know this isn't exactly your cup of tea, but we 
*needed* a night out and I'm glad you're here." Big beautiful, 
soulful eyes gazed lovingly at him. "It wouldn't have been any fun 
without you."

Garak melted even as his inner voice wailed at him. //How can you 
*live* with yourself? *One* little look from those soft eyes and you 
instantly re-file him from "deeply in the manure" to "utterly 
forgiven and eminently fuckable"!//

//Well he *is*,// Garak replied to his sullen subconscious. 

There was a brief internalized pause. 

//I have to concede,// his self replied, //You *do* have a point 
there...//

Outwardly, he took Julian's slender hand. "Actually, dear, I *am* 
having an acceptable time." He winced again as another searing wail 
blasted out from the stage. "I just wish that Lieutenant Dax wouldn't 
*screech* so loud."

"Well, she *is* performing Klingon Opera, Elim," Julian said 
reasonably. 

"Yeah, Garak," Mile's O'Brien chimed in from the opposite side of the 
table. "Besides, Worf seems to like it."

Garak cast a look at the next table over, where an 
uncharacteristically love-struck Klingon was stoically weeping into 
his blood wine.

Garak sniffed with splendid disdain. "That about says it all, really."

The feisty engineer rose to the bait. "Y'know, Garak, you're being 
awfully critical for someone who hasn't got the balls to get up on 
the stage himself."

Keiko shot a dark look at her husband. "Miles..." she said warningly.

Carefully controlling his expression, Garak smiled at the 
engineer. "My dear Chief O'Brien, I know this may sound paranoid, but 
I do feel that no matter *how* well I performed, I would be ill 
received by a room full of people who hate me."

He sat back to await his reward. //Go right ahead, Chief. Dig your 
little grave.// He loved this part. O'Brien would *have* to respond 
to the opening. He just wouldn't be able to help himself.

Julian's stricken negation was cut off by O'Brien's wicked little 
chuckle. "Don't be silly! You're not being paranoid. Of *course* 
everyone hates you."

//Perfect!// Garak maintained a tolerant smile while his inner self 
rolled around under the table laughing hysterically. 

Keiko slapped her husband's arm sharply. "Miles Edward O'Brien, *you* 
are sleeping on the couch tonight!"

Miles looked crestfallen.

His equilibrium restored, Garak tore his gleeful eyes away from the 
cringing engineer and politely joined in with the crowd's applause as 
Jadzia Dax stepped down from the stage.

There was a long pause in which Quark, Rom and a sundry cluster of 
Ferengi waiters all put their heads together. 

Garak leaned towards Julian again. "What now? Dare I hope... is it 
over?"

Julian smiled patiently. "Nearly. Quark just has to announce the 
winner."

"Oh? And is there a prize to go with this dubious honor?"

The Human nodded. "Apparently. It's all very hush-hush though."

Quark called for everyone's attention as he took his place on the 
stage. "All right, people. This is the moment you've all been waiting 
for."

"Hmmph. *That's* a matter of opinion," Garak muttered.

"Shush, Elim." Julian shot him a look.

"OK," Quark continued. "It was a very close result, but in the end we 
had to award the prize to Morn, for his entertaining and above all 
*enthusiastic* rendition of an old Earth classic - `Send In The 
Clowns.'"

Morn stood up, graciously accepting the audience's warm cheers.

"Oh, *good* show!" Julian applauded loudly. He looked at Garak. "I 
have to admit, he would have been *my* choice as well."

Garak nodded. "Oh, I concur. The wig was an inspired touch. Though I 
must admit, I never *imagined* that fish-net stockings actually came 
in so large a size."

"Congratulations, Morn!" Quark grinned. "You have won tonight's 
secret grand prize. An all expenses paid vacation..." He paused for 
dramatic effect, "...to beautiful Ferenginar!"

The sudden silence in the bar was well nigh deafening.

As one man, the crowd turned to Morn.

Who set his shoulders and drew in a deep breath...

***** 

Several hours later, in the warm darkness of Garak and Julian's 
bedroom, thoughts of crowds and Karaoke and screaming Trill females 
dissipated into a sensual haze as Garak joyfully plunged himself into 
Julian's sleek and supple body.

Surrounded by the wonderful scent of soft skin and Human sweat, 
wrapped tightly in a glorious tangle of lean golden limbs, Garak 
pressed his face into a smooth damp neck, shuddering and growling as 
he came deliciously, an instant after his beloved Julian. 

Breathing hard, he allowed himself to be cuddled and petted for a 
while, basking in the life affirming splendor of post orgasmic 
lassitude. 

Finally, he regretfully withdrew, rearranging both self and adored 
mate into their usual sleep-spoon position. 

"Julian?" he murmured as a sudden thought crossed his weary mind.

"Mmmm?" Julian nestled down a little more into the pillows.

"What exactly did Morn mean by, `well, you can shove *that* 
particular idea where the sun doesn't shine'?"

Julian chuckled sleepily. "Can I explain it in the morning, love?"

"Of course, dear." Garak tightened his arms around his slender 
beloved, rested his face against soft sweet smelling hair and closed 
his eyes.

//Hmmm. How fortunate for Morn that the trip *is* to Ferenginar,// 
Garak mused as he slipped gently away. //If he's after a place where 
the sun doesn't shine, well quite frankly, he couldn't do better than 
*there*.//

END
Ainzfern...




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