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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sun, 9 May 2004 22:53:24 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW DS9 "Nineteen Shades" 8/12 (G/B) [NC-17]
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Please see part 1 for codes, disclaimers, and notes.

-------------------------------------------
Nineteen Shades, by Penumbra (part 8/12)
-------------------------------------------


When Bashir woke up, the night came back to him in a succession of
vivid memories. He kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the shivers of
pleasure that coursed through him at the images.

Garak's body had quivered, his breathing uneven and his muscles
cording and shifting under his sleek grey skin in a hypnotising dance
of light and shadow. He'd touched that silver body, traced the mosaic
of scales with his hands and tongue, studied every inch of Garak's
body and the rock-hard, black column of his erection until Garak's
breathing had been nothing but incoherent, loud groans. His seed had
tasted like spices and darkness and Bashir thought he'd never tire of
its flavour. He'd made Garak lose control, and then Garak had made him
forget everything but the moment. 

He remembered the thick, slick length of Garak's cock sliding into him
with agonising slowness, filling him with its incredible, pulsing heat
until he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but
Garak, on top of him and inside him, making the stars in his eyes glow
ever brighter. He'd screamed his voice hoarse in all the languages he
knew and in some Garak's touch had taught him, for Elim Garak had
played his body as if he were a master musician and Julian Bashir his
beloved instrument. In the end, just the very tips of Garak's skilled
fingers had trailed down his aching length and that had brought him to
the brink; it had been Garak's words, his slow words in a voice
languid with post-coital bliss and desire, that had finally pushed him
over the edge.

"*Mon cher*," Bashir whispered, feeling the roughness of his throat at
the words. When he turned in the embrace, he felt how exquisitely sore
he was all over, his skin sticky with sweat that had mixed with
Garak's pheromones and pale blue semen. His lips found warm scales and
he nuzzled into them, finally opening his eyes at the snuff of low
laughter that he heard.

Garak, wide awake and reclining on his back, had his head propped up
on a pillow as he watched him. "Good morning," Garak murmured and
wrapped his arms around Bashir.

"It's morning? Oh no," Bashir rasped, sliding one arm and leg across
Garak's solid body in a somewhat possessive gesture. He met the blue
gaze of his lover with a wink. "I really don't feel like leaving this
bed right now."

"Good. I wouldn't let you."

Bashir smiled and laid his head on Garak's chest. His heartbeat was
slower than human's and its pace was an off-kilter triple
thump. Listening to it, Bashir traced the valley between Garak's
pectoral muscles down to his abdomen, the scaled skin tapering to
concentric bands of ridges around his muscled ribs. The ridges were
interspersed with the palest skin he'd found on Garak's body. In the
low night-light, its colour was pale silver overlaid with the gossamer
glint of his drying pheromone gland secretions. The oddly configured
muscles contracted under his touch and Bashir marvelled at their
inherent strength and beauty.

Despite his incessant curiosity to learn all that was alien to him, it
hadn't been merely physical attraction that had drawn him to Garak,
though. No, it had been the melding of chemistry with
intrigue. Through all their years, Garak had never been boring,
mundane, or anything but his cunning, confusing self. Garak had been
monumentally irritating, yet he had provided Bashir endless intrigue
and stimulation -- not an easy feat, considering the artificial
advantages he had due to his altered genes. His new lover was the
never-ending puzzle that he loved to try and solve.

"I was right, you know."

"In what sense?" Garak asked, his sleepy voice a low rumble Bashir
more felt than heard.

"About the sinister qualities of your tailoring. You do use clothes to
hide this fantastic body of yours."

"You silly man," Garak murmured. "My body is utilitarian, perhaps, but
not fantastic in any sense of the word."

Bashir lifted his head to glare at Garak. Gauging the open contentment
in the blue eyes that were almost luminescent in the dark, Bashir
couldn't decide whether he was being made fun of or not. There was not
a gram of fat visible on Garak's scaled, gleaming body, only
well-maintained muscles that he suspected had less to do with
fastidious gym attendance than with subcutaneous myostim implants -- a
normal if highly expensive Cardassian body augmentation that was
illegal in the Federation. 

"For a Cardassian, you're a remarkably modest man."

"I'm remarkable in many ways, my dear Julian," Garak replied with a
smile and traced the path of dark hair up Bashir's forearm. A trail of
goosebumps followed his touch and Bashir exhaled as the first touches
of arousal skittered up his spine. "As you're well aware."

"I take back what I said about modesty," Bashir said, rolling his eyes
in exasperation even as he felt his now-sore cock twitch in interest
when Garak's hands reached around him and traced the groove of his
spine, fingers splaying against the sore muscles there. "I'm surprised
you don't have more scars, though, given your line of work."

"A clumsy tailor doesn't stay in business for long," Garak said, his
sonorous tenor once again laced with his particular brand of tease and
flirt. 

"Elim Garak," Bashir said warningly, although the effect was ruined by
the sensuous smile that came to his lips when Garak's hands moved down
to knead his ass. "And I was referring to your formed profession,
which I assume came with dangers far worse than laser fabric cutters
and errant sewing needles."

"Perhaps," Garak hummed, his voice contemplative and conversational
even as he parted Bashir's cheeks to brush his fingertips over the
sensitive pucker of his opening. Bashir's breath caught and he moaned
as the touch was repeated, teasing and inflaming at the same
time. "But it really shouldn't have surprised you. Only bad operatives
have scars; good ones avoid such dangers altogether."

"Oh, Elim...that feels so good," Bashir moaned, all rational thought
escaping him when Garak's finger pushed past the tight muscle of his
opening, probing his still-sore depths. He ground his hips into the
ridge over Garak's hipbone, his groin tightening at the
sensation. Still looking Garak in the eye, he bent his head down and
sank his teeth into a ridge that ran across Garak's chest where a
human would have a nipple.

The strength of the resulting reaction took him by surprise. With a
primal howl, Garak twisted and rolled on top of Bashir, his sudden and
quite insistent erection poking Bashir in the hip. When Garak captured
his wrists in his strong hands, all Bashir could do was try to breathe
under the hot, heavy mass of the body sliding on top of his in quite a
maddening stimulation. Garak's mouth was everywhere on him and the
feeling of that talented mouth and the aroused bristle of Garak's
scales against his skin was simply incredible. 

"Oh, Elim, yes...please," Bashir hissed and moaned when Garak's teeth
bit a fiery path along his collarbone and up his neck. He tilted his
head back and to the side to provide better access. "There's a
spot...I'll need to remember. Is there no end to your...erogenous
zones?" he asked, panting through his lust.

Garak licked the cords of his neck. "Apparently not," he muttered,
sounding preoccupied as he pressed a strong thigh between Bashir's
legs. 

"Oh gods, Elim," Bashir moaned when Garak's hand reached down to
stroke his now weeping cock, the touch slow and teasing. "And I
wondered why Cardassians are not a...touchy-feely people. If
you...were, there'd be...anarchy. Oh, Elim," he breathed, his words
coming in gasps between the waves of pleasure Garak's touch was
bringing him.

Garak hissed and squeezed his cock harder even as he moved to lie
between Bashir's legs. "Enough talking, Julian," he whispered into
Bashir's ear as he reached between them and in one smooth, skilled
thrust, slid into him.

"Ah!" Bashir gasped and threw his head back against the mattress. Pain
and pleasure mingled as the fiery heat of Garak's hard, thick length
inside pulsed to the beat of his heart, turning his insides to
liquid. Moaning with abandon, he pulled his legs up and felt Garak
slide still further in, the lubricating secretion of his cock making
the entry virtually painless. 

When Garak started moving, his upper body supported by his arms on
either side of Bashir's torso and his strokes long and slow, Bashir
exhaled the breath he'd unwittingly been holding. Grasping Garak's
bulging biceps for support, he looked up at his lover and found
himself to be drowning in Garak's eyes. They had gone black with
desire and their inky depths were far more inviting than the vast
darkness of space had ever been to him. Reaching up, Bashir ran his
hands down the flushed neckridges that fairly beckoned for his touch
and smiled at the abandon on Garak's face, realising he could very
easily learn to love this man. 

"Oh Elim," Bashir whispered, his words rising into a moan when Garak
rolled his hips just so and the tip of his cock brushed against his
prostate. "You feel so good...inside me," he breathed, his hands
finding his own throbbing erection. The caress of the thick scales on
Garak's genital pod was truly maddening on his tightening balls and
scrotum. "On me," he added, stroking himself with one hand even as his
other came to scrape its fingernails down Garak's side. "When you
touch me. Oh..."

"Julian, my love," Garak husked, bending down to brush his lips over
Bashir's even as he quickened his pace. "You are so perfect," he
muttered, his breath laboured. Bashir could feel the quiver of Garak's
muscles as he slid in and out, obviously fighting against the
instinctive urge to ram into him as hard as he could. "So
beautiful...so tight. You take my breath away..."

Encouraging him by wrapping his legs around his waist, Bashir reached
up and bit down on one of Garak's neckridges, hard. He screamed into
the hot flesh in his mouth as Garak roared something incomprehensible
and slammed into him with full force, coming inside him in a flood of
liquid fire. The sound and feel of his lover's pleasure and the
shivers that shook the powerful body poised in rapture over him
triggered Bashir's own orgasm. He spilled his hot seed on his stomach
and Garak's, blind to everything but the burning light of his peak and
the man who'd brought him there.

He came down from his heights slowly, mumbling in disappointment when
Garak pulled out of him. His disappointment quickly shifted to
contentment when he was gathered into strong arms and enveloped into
an embrace that was warm with the glow of their shared pleasure and
the aftershocks that made him tremble. Wriggling deeper into the
embrace, Bashir inhaled Garak's scent that was sandalwood mixing with
cinnamon and sharp spices, dry leaves, and nutmeg. It was a musky,
heady scent that was both comforting and dark at the same time.

"Like autumn forests and unseen danger," he muttered, tickling the
large scales on Garak's shoulder with his nose as he closed his eyes
and breathed in the scent. "Do you think we could bottle it?"

"Bottle what?" Garak's rusty, breathless voice asked.

"Your pheromone scent," Bashir mumbled and rested his chin on Garak's
shoulder. He felt boneless in his glow. "We'd make a killing."

Garak's amused laughter made his whole body shake. "You have been
spending far too much time in Quark's company, my dear," he said and
Bashir could feel his hands slide into his hair, gently scratching his
scalp.

"Never mind. Too much trouble...and I like the thought of it being our
secret," Bashir said and purred deep in his throat at the feel of
Garak's fingers playing with his hair. "Mmm. Don't stop."

"Does that mean you'd want this to be more than one-time occurrence?"

Bashir's eyes snapped open at Garak's words, said in a deceptively
light tone that nevertheless had deep undercurrents. Looking at his
lover's face, Bashir lifted his head and frowned. Garak's expression
was unusually open, the gleam of his eyes for once as full of emotion
as Bashir's soul. He knew he'd never know the full truth of who Garak
was, never learn all his secrets, but he knew enough to make his
decision with no hesitation.

"Yes. Yes I do," he breathed, touching the ridge underneath Garak's
right eye. "Do you, Elim?"

The smile that spread on Garak's lips was one he'd never seen before:
full, joyful, private, and warm. "I want to see the universe through
your eyes, Julian. Now and always," he said. His quiet words warmed
Bashir's heart like nothing had done in years and years. 

The moment was broken by the computer's dulcet tones. "The time is
0600 hours," the faintly female voice intoned.

At that prompt, Bashir suddenly remembered he'd agreed to meet O'Brien
at Quark's for a breakfast before his shift. He groaned and tightened
his arms around Garak's solid body. The last thing he wanted to do was
to leave the warm bed. "Do you need to get up at this insane hour?"

"Being the master of my own time, I don't. Alas, your Starfleet is
rather less flexible about such matters," Garak said. "Among other
things," he added as if an afterthought. His tone made Bashir lift his
head again to look at him. 

"Do you think we need to keep this a secret?" he asked, hating the
very thought of lying to everyone and not really knowing whether he
would be capable of such deception in the first place. 

"You're free to tell whoever you want, Julian. This is one secret I
don't mind not keeping."

Bashir blinked. "You don't?"

"It's your choice whether you want to tell people or not. I have
nothing to gain either way, while you have everything to lose," Garak
said, pain flitting through his eyes for a moment before he could
cover it. "There'll be a price for you to pay, Julian."

"I don't care. Starfleet didn't discharge me over my genetic
enhancements, so I don't think they'll do it over you, either." Bashir
didn't say that it would be a very cold day in hell when he'd let
Starfleet dictate his private life. 

"Mmm. They will take a dim view over you sleeping with a Cardassian
spy."

Bashir smiled, patting Garak's arm even as he gave him a roguish
waggle of his eyebrows. "Oh, perhaps. But you see, I'm dating a
Cardassian tailor, which is a whole different thing altogether."

The sound of Garak's spontaneous, roaring laughter stayed with him all
day. 

-------------------------------
End of part 8/12.



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]



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