The BLTS Archive - The Mystic's Dream
by BGM (bgmanic@gmail.com)

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And so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
And now I feel you move
Every breath is full
So it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All for the love of you.

- The Mystic's Dream - Loreena McKennitt
---

It had happened in such a whirlwind.  Such an intoxicated current of
emotion, he was loath to offer it a name.  Its elusive presence
lingered in his thoughts as he gasped, his eyes wide for a moment
before they drifted close.  He tilted his head and clutched the dark
mane of hair with his fists, a voluptuous groan choking between
pleasure and despair erupting from his throat.

The man beneath him gathered his body in his arms, clutching tightly
as he hoisted him against his chest, wrapping his cool thighs against
his backside.  He arched his neck, a drunken smile on his lips as he
felt the rigid texture rub against his flesh, urging his pleasure to
reach overwhelming heights.  Such cool flesh ... belied by the heat of
their union.

They hurried to redeem seven years of frustration.  Then they lingered
and paced themselves for countless more years to come.

"Doctor ..." the strangled groan wafted up from somewhere within the
tangle of limbs.

He choked down a laugh.  "I ... think you can ... call me Julian ..."
the younger man breathed, looking down tenderly as he raked his hand
through the slick black hair.  He marveled at its nature, the fine
hairs that seemed to coil like wires around his fingers.

Elim Garak leaned back, capturing his breath with one profound intake.
"Julian," he amended.  He lifted his hand to the doctor's face and
dragged his palm across the length of his forehead.  "Why did you
return to Cardassia?" he asked.

He nuzzled his face in the crook of Garak's throat and smiled against
the small ridges that decorated his collar bones.  "Isn't it obvious?"

The Cardassian enveloped his lover's body in his arms and sighed
against his shoulder.  "I would like to believe you returned for me,"
he said, their voices clearer now in the darkened silence.

"I did," he replied, his voice muffled by Garak's chest.

Garak closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek absently against Bashir's
neck.  "I'd like to believe that," he whispered.  All at once, the
dream was wrenched from his grasp and he wrested himself from the
embrace.  "I ... thank you, but it is getting rather late," he said
hoarsely as he fumbled for his credit chip.

'Bashir' waved him off.  "It's not necessary."

Garak shook his head.  "If you think I am looking for pity--"

"I enjoy our time together.  Next time, buy me lunch," 'Bashir' said,
smiling.  "Good night, Garak," he said, softer now.

The Cardassian leaned back into bed, appraising the young Cardassian
as he dressed himself with the ease he had no doubt acquired in his
profession.  He remembered the evening the young man had caught his
eye, offering his services in the lower districts.  His eyes had been
the deciding factor, wide and dark, churning with a mixture of
innocence and mischief.  He had been perfect.  He was still perfect.
For the exception of his ridges ... and his cool Cardassian flesh ...
he was perfect in all but one important things.

He was not Doctor Bashir.

"Good night, Rokal," he said softly, allowing the night's exhaustive
pleasure lull him to sleep.

Julian Bashir watched as the Cardassian drifted asleep.  He pressed
his lips tenderly on Garak's third eye and walked out of the room.

Next time.  Next time he would tell him.

Just like he had promised last time.

---

The End