The BLTS Archive - Favor For A Friend
by BGM (bgmanic@gmail.com)

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"Garak, are you free tonight?"

Those words - I keep hearing them in my mind, even though the one who
spoke them is long gone, busy with duties and responsibility and work.
So innocuous by themselves, yet how was I to expect the flood of
emotion they effected?

Are you free tonight...? Of course, my dear one, had I an appointment
with the Great Gul himself I would have cancelled it for you. But
perhaps I was too brash when he asked it of me... too impudent. Ah!
I've always been that way. Did he expect anything different?

"Why of course, Doctor. My schedule is always open for you," I'd
replied. Suddenly my heart was fighting its way out of my chest. Those
words ... not 'are you free this afternoon', but tonight.

Night.

What could he possibly demand of me at such a time of day? I keep
reverting back to the same thought, yet I know deep down it is a
deceptive theory. My dear friend ... so virtuous and innocent. Two
qualities I myself lost ages ago. They make him special. They make him
Julian Bashir. And I ... what qualities can I attribute to myself?
Conniving? Deceitful? Walking the distance to his quarters I find
myself unable to name a single redeeming quality.

And then there is Ziyal. He does not approve; I realize that. I do not
even approve. But what does he expect? I have been exiled on a station
full of people who loathe me. For six years I have been an outcast
from my people, denied comfort or intimacy - not by choice, but by
inevitability. Why does he not understand that I crave affection as
much as any other living being? Is it because of what I've done;
because of what I am? Or is it because I am a Cardassian who was once
employed by the Obsidian Order and thus by definition am a cold,
calculating individual?

Ziyal understands... not because she is Cardassian, but because she is
exiled, as I am. She knows the solitude attached to banishment; she
feels the pain. Julian has a family, a home. He can return to Earth
whenever his heart desires while I am left alone, here, on a station
that will most probably be my grave. My dead body desecrated by those
who would enjoy my demise. My remains ignored as they scatter through
space, alone... no different than I am now.

I am here. Room 304, habitat ring, level 3d. I know it by heart. I was
here once; when we had the orphan matter to take care of. Then it took
me everything not to keep you in bed - with me slipping in by your
side.

"Garak," he smiles, and then I realize I must have rung the chime
without my consciously knowing it. Suddenly here I am, nervous, at his
door step and smiling politely in the only way I know how.

"Doctor," I nod in return. He ushers me in and once more I am struck
with how different his scent is and how distinct the feel of his
quarters. He gestures me to a small, comfortable chair and I sit
obediently, looking up questioningly at my friend as I wonder again
what it is he wants of me.

From the corner of my eye I can see portraits lined up along a
secluded shelf, my skills enabling me to encompass the whole of his
quarters, every detail in one glance. I wonder what secrets this young
man has. We all have secrets.

Beyond the sofa where he is now sitting I can see the entrance to his
bedroom. One corner of his bed is visible, proper white linens tucked
neatly beneath it. My heart sings with longing.

"Do you want something, Garak?"

You.

"Perhaps some kanaar would be nice," I say aloud. I smile, watching
him as he rises to his feet. Graceful, slender he is the picture of
beauty. From the color of his skin to the intensity of his gaze
nothing of him is ordinary, or listless. I remain silent as he orders
refreshments, his long, narrow fingers wrapping themselves round the
materialized glasses. When he turns around a smile is gracing his full
lips and I cannot help but return it.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you here," he begins, settling
himself in the same seat he had previously occupied after handing me
my drink. I coverfly study every movement, from the Ilssore way his
right leg swings over the other to the casual manner in which he leans
sideways to support his elbow on the chair's armrest.

"I must admit, the thought had crossed my mind," I agree. The smile he
gives me dries my lips, and I take a sip of kanaar. The cool liquid
eases its way down, but I'm still left with a nervous lump in my
throat. Never in all my life has anyone rendered me so useless before.

In the back of my mind memories play themselves out, unheeded,
solitary, triggered by the cold, sweet taste of kanaar. Memories of
when I sneaked away to share my first glass of liquor with my
friends... Memories of what happened when I returned home and
discovered my father was up and waiting for me.

"We've known each other for a long time now," Julian is saying and I
recognize the hesitancy right away. What in Great Gul does he want?

"Four years," I add helpfully, backing up my words with an encouraging
smile. I notice movement on my lap and when I glance down I see my
hand fluttering nervously. Stilling it I return my attention to
Julian.

"Right. And... I need to ask a favor of you."

"Oh?"

My heart has never known such speed. I must get up, breathe, pace, do
something. Outwardly I am the picture of calm - a chained animal. My
control is my leash, and right now that leash is corroding... fast. I
dare not add more to my inquiry; my emotions are such I would let slip
just how strongly I feel for him.

"It's Jadzia's birthday in a week ..." he begins, his posture suddenly
alive with enthusiasm as he leans forward and settles his glass.

Of course. Commander Dax. Should I have expected anyone else?
Completely deflated is how I feel now. Still, at least I can relax;
concentrate on his words and his favor instead of anticipating his
query.

Foolish exile.

"I was wondering if you'd help me pick out something nice for her.
Maybe a dress, or shoes ..." he continues.

My interest is piqued, and so is my amusement. "Shoes? Dear Doctor,
that is a highly impersonal present for such a close friend."

He sighs. Oh such a low, breathy sigh filtered through those curving,
sweet lips. How I would pay those lips due attention, licking,
nibbling, sucking at them... anything he liked. I'd be his to command;
every one of his desires fulfilled.

Sweet Julian, do you not realize I am your captive? My heart is
chained to yours; it's yours to do with as you wish. "I know it's
highly impersonal," he says. I have to blink to focus on his voice.
"But at this point I can't think of anything else. We're close
friends, but not that close. I've never really come to know her well
enough to know what she would like."

Dax, Dax. "Rolequian roses," I say on an impulse. I remember her
talking of them fondly when trying on a Nuliann gown. "I believe she
would be quite appreciative of Rolequian roses."

There is a partial widening of his eyes and I know instantly what his
thoughts are. Quickly I smile. "They are symbolic of close friendship.
I assure you, she would not take offense."

"No, no," Julian says and I frown. "That's not what I thought."

I sigh inwardly. Once again I am misled by his beauty, by my own lewd
thoughts. Ah! You are losing your touch, Elim. There was a time when
you could anticipate a response three sentences ahead. It rendered
interrogations so much easier ...

"I was thinking what a great idea that is," he says and I can't help
but admire his youthful enthusiasm. I tip my head graciously and move
to get up. No use in tormenting myself more. He has what he wanted and
I fear my desire will betray me were I to spend a moment more in his
quarters.

"You're leaving?" he asks, so honest. My beautiful Julian.

"You have what you need," I say, injecting a measure of surprise into
my tone. "Was it not for this that you wanted to see me?"

He shrugs, looking oddly disappointed. Could it be...? Is he truly
saddened by my departure? "Yes, but... we rarely have the opportunity
to talk anymore. I thought we could use tonight as such an occasion."
When he looks up his eyes beckon me, call to me, make my skin crawl
with intense craving. It's so long since I've held a body close to
mine. "Do you mind?" he adds and I feel my resistance literally melt
inside of me.

"I ..." Mumbling. Faltering. Stammering. All unacceptable qualities
for an Obsidian Order agent yet there I am, contradicting my own
image. "I -- of course I don't mind, Doctor. Would you... that is...
just... I'll be right back," I mutter finally and beat a hasty retreat
to the washroom.

Breathe. Inhale, exhale, breathe. This I order my reflection as I
splash some cool water on my face.

Why am I letting him affect me so? Of all the beautifully exotic men
and women on this station, why him? He is not my kind... But there is
something in him that makes him unique. Amongst the cliques of Logical
Vulcans, Dutiful Starfleeters and Spiritual Bajorans, Julian stands
out. At least in my eyes he does.

*Elim,* a wispy voice calls to me softly. *You're doing it again. Stop
it.* I frown at the voice and try to chase it away. I know what it
means. 'Stop deluding yourself' is what it means.

I watch myself, see my eyeridges draw themselves in closer, shadowing
my darkened eyes sheltered within.

He is too naive. Too innocent.

And I know what would happen if I were to pursue a relationship with
him. I would become obsessed. I rather suspect I've achieved that
stage already, but I wisely choose to forego explicit reflection on
the subject. Obsession is a dangerous thing for me... or more to the
point, it is dangerous for the object of it. Precious doctor...

I shake my head and close my eyes.

No.

It's beginning. I feel it and I will have none of it. I won't permit
it. I'll lose myself in the obsession, slowly come to neglect my work,
my friends...

Friends.

I snort bitterly. What friends? Quark? Odo? There is no one on this
station who would leap at the chance to become your friend, Elim. Not
in the way Julian did. You're only deluding yourself again.

If I allowed it then I know what would happen. I'd hurt him. I'd twist
and bend his spirit until he was mine. All without laying a finger on
him... Was I not once notorious for my mental influence? Some had
trouble knowing what exactly made me so effectively insinuative when
it came to manipulating people. Didn't they know I'd done it all my
life? With my parents, my friends, my work? I had risen to power in an
organization which thrived on pain and suffering and yet what irony -
I myself never laid a hand on my victims... I'd broken them, turned
them into a quivering mass of flesh with no identity or sense of self,
all without making physical contact. But my work had become an
obsession, hadn't it? Just as Julian was becoming another. And it had
changed me. I knew the same would result from this one. I'd lose
control -- focus my mind on the task of winning him over and forfeit
any consideration for others by plundering what I'd soon regard as
being mine, and mine alone.

I watch with detached awe as my lips form a smile. My mind suddenly
returns to the time when I had first met him. I did not take much
consideration of him then. I was attracted. I enjoyed his company, but
I did not think of him when we were apart. Now I cannot spend one
waking moment without contemplating the possibilities.

Obsession.

I try to shake these dangerous musings from my mind. Instead, they are
replaced with the only thing which has served my imagination for an
interminable amount of time

... fantasy.

Still smiling, I lean over the sink and close my eyes. I remember this
afternoon, sitting alone in my shop. Sometimes I find myself pausing
from whatever garment I am making at the cutting table, sitting there
while toying with whichever fabric I am working with... this afternoon
it was the Nuk'ta spider silk.

I imagined the silky fabric rippling over Julian's slender body, my
own hands unwrapping the slight form from the transparent folds and
exposing his golden skin sheathed with its own thin film of glistening
sweat. A beautiful black leather collar hugged his elegant neck which
bent backward as I plundered the narrow throat with my lips, licking a
trail down and gradually slipping the thin material off the rest of
the slick young body. A long, quivering bronze sex rewards my patience
for having waited all these years to ...

I snap my eyes wide and blink incredulously, swallowing hard and
panting. I'd heard--

"Garak?"

I jerk upright, then turn to the origin of the voice... That voice, so
rich and accented, soft and inviting... a voice I often chide myself
for being incapable of resisting.

A knock on the door. "Are you all right in there?" he asks, full of
concern. I hate the nervous chuckle wrested from my throat.

"Fine, Doctor, just a little fevered." As soon as the words are out of
my mouth I regret it.

"Fevered? Are you sure you're all right? Can I come in?"

"You may come in, but you have nothing to be conce--" As soon as my
consent is given he enters, his wide expressive eyes brimming with
worry.

It is not Julian the Host but Julian the Doctor who reaches up to
touch my forehead. I see his hand lose focus before my eyes, and I am
too late in stepping away from his touch. His fingers brush over my
ridges and I moan helplessly.

"Garak...?" he murmurs and I take his delicate wrist in my hand to pry
those fingers away.

"Please, Doctor, I am fine. No need for you to be concerned." I try a
smile, which must appear ghastly. Julian frowns and takes another step
toward me.

Confining - the washroom is too small and I am trapped with nowhere to
run from my desire, nowhere to escape my longing. I am desperate for
him, while still my stubbornness wars with the hunger. A part of me
hopes my craving will wither away while I still possess some control,
however tattered it may be. But deep down, I know it never will.

"Doctor?" I try again and my voice is now frantic, reckless with fear.
"Doctor, please, let's just go into the den and talk." It sounds so
absurd to my own ears, so inane a request, but I cannot help it. I
have to get away.

"You're fevered," Julian persists. Damn his medical obstinacy! "Hold
still, this might be serious."

I have an intense urge to laugh, but nowhere on my face does it
register. "I assure you, Doctor, it's not serious. Please..." How many
times have I begged him now? Ample warnings. If he does not step away
now I will hold no responsibility for what I do.

His hand reaches for me again, and I give out an inarticulate cry. I
catch the hand before it can reach its destination and I bring it to
my lips.

I don't dare look up as I kiss his palm. I cannot bear to lift my eyes
and see the revulsion on his face. If I can get away with a kiss to
his hand I'll be happy. If I escape with the memory of his scent and
the feel of his skin I will never utter a complaint again as long as I
live.

His hand is so smooth... so slender, so delicate. Unlike my own as I
partially open my eyes and see the mixture of gray and gold in front
of me. His fragrance is sweet, fresh. I am reminded of Bajoran spring
noss in full bloom.

Finally I gather the courage to slide my gaze further up. My breath
catches in my throat as I see his eyes, those beautiful eyes, half
closed in what I can only describe as a daze.

I let my tongue swirl over his perfect skin, closing my own eyes anew
as I concentrate on his presence, his existence between my hands.

Nothing is said. Perhaps neither of us wishes to destroy the
revelation. The exploration.

I feel something caressing my jaw - slender fingers tickling the
scales lining it. I lean into the touch, even as I take a finger into
my mouth. I suck at it gently, allowing my teeth to graze his skin
delicately. He moans and his hand slides down to my neck ...

Oh sweet Gul, yes, right there. He knows my body; he knows a
Cardassian body well. How profitable to have a doctor as a lover. I
can only hope to offer him equal pleasure.

I walk forward absently, my mouth no longer satisfied with his hand. I
need more. I need his mouth, his lips; oh those sweet, tender lips I
so longed for earlier. When he is backed against the low counter he
bends back slightly and I kiss him soundly.

Incredible. Is this truly happening? What began as an innocent favor
suddenly turns into a night full of promise. After four years of empty
nights, could this one be the first exception?

"Julian," I whisper finally as my lips reach his ear. Such a delicate
shell, round and so solitary. Fascinated I draw the lobe into my
mouth, my tongue caressing its curves and bends exploratively. He lets
out another moan, louder this time.

So alien. So smooth and precious. Everything about him is new to me.
Novel. From his smooth, slender neck to the dark lashes lining his
intense eyes. For a moment I simply pull back and stare at him,
running my hand into those intriguing curls of dark hair. In a bout of
passion I pull at them, tugging his head back to access that
fascinating throat. How Humans survived with such delicate parts is
beyond me... his neck is so narrow, so thin I would have the strength
to break it easily.

I feel his moan through my cheek as I bend to caress the enticing arch
of his throat. It rumbles against my skin. His hands are now kneading
my back, do doubt curious about the ridges lining my spine. Humans
have no such thing, and I suppose I am as alien to him as he is to me.
How odd, to be the alien.

Clothes. I feel trapped, confined. I take his off urgently, my
tailoring knowledge enabling me to strip him easily in a matter of
seconds. Mine are torn off just as quickly; stubborn clasps ripped.
Care? Of course I don't care. I have him. I have Julian. Take away the
little I was left with in my exile and I still would not care.

He turns around in my arms, strangled words wafting through the small
washroom. The setting is unimportant. We are together; about to be
joined in the most intimate way possible for two people to join. Mind
and body. I have bonded to him all unknowing. He is no longer an
obsession; he is part of me. Necessary. Take him away and I can no
longer breathe. He is my air. My life.

Linked together by sheer need, we bend over the counter. Something is
given to me, and when I look down I see it is a small bottle of
scented oil. Lubricating us both is the work of mere seconds. Fast but
thorough, never in my life would I hurt my precious Julian. Never.

I glance up to see him pressing his cheek to the mirror, hugging his
reflection. His eyes are ravenous, opened wide to see my own
reflection behind him. He nods; his lips parted to allow the breath to
filter through faster. His brow is slick with a film of sweat. The
overhead lights shine brightly on his skin; he is resplendent. As I
slowly enter him, I realize I am making love to a divine creature. A
rare creation indeed

We rock together, gently at first. The sensations are unlike any I've
ever felt before. My mind is connected to my body, and both register
the sheer pleasure of joining with Julian.

His beautiful voice cries out and encourages me to go deeper, harder.
I'll never say no, I think as I acquiesce to his wishes. Never, my
precious.

He arches his back; that elegant back, marked only by the rippling of
his spine as he moves sensually against me. When we are at the edge he
leans back fully, his head touching my shoulder as he cries out his
passion. My hands caress his chest, pausing to toy with the two
curiously dark nipples. "Let it out, my sweet," I whisper to him, my
own voice choked.

And he does. His eyes shut in a seeming grimace, sweat rolling down
his temples. His sensuous lips form an exclamation as he bucks in my
arms. I thrust again and he cries out louder. I've become addicted to
the sound of his voice I realize as I push us both forward, over the
counter. He braces himself on the mirror, ducking his head to give me
a perfect view of myself, my face wreathed with lust and passion.

He thrusts his hips back against me, causing a mingled cry from both
of us. Before I can release into him I pull out, turn him around and
lift him effortlessly onto the counter, pressing myself over him as I
kiss him deeply.

Together we rock against one another and in a matter of moments we
come, crying out our mutual ecstasy. Sitting on the edge of the
counter, threatening to fall from exhaustion he clutches at me,
panting hard against my lips as he touches his forehead to mine.

"Julian." I breathe his name with relief - relief at knowing
everything will be all right. I've never been one to believe in fairy
tales, but perhaps, just perhaps, everything will end on a happy note
this time.

He looks up at me, his eyes so close I can see their true color. They
are not dark mahogany, but green, mixed with hazel and speckles of
saffron. Such a variety of colors, dancing with lust as they stare at
me. Great Gul, how my heart sings in joy, knowing that lust is for me.

"Thank you," he whispers, and pulls me into a hug. I frown against his
shoulder as I caress his damp back.

My curiosity is overwhelming. "Whatever for, Doctor?"

"For making the first exception to all my empty nights," he murmurs
against my skin and I close my eyes abruptly. And I smile.

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The End