The BLTS Archive - Masterpiece
by Jade M

---

DISCLAIMER: All aspects of the Star Trek universe and the characters
therein are copyrighted by Paramount.  Also, the dialogue and setting
in  the first part of this story came from DS9 episode #4 ("Past
Prologue", written by Kathryn Powers.  Airdate: 1/11/93).  I just
elaborated on it  a bit. :)  The rest, however, is all mine.

I'm a newbie here; this is my first story of this kind.  It's
essentially a PWP, but I hope you'll find it entertaining just the
same.  Opinions are welcome (and VERY much wanted), but *please* be
gentle.   Thanks in advance; here goes nothing....

---

Garak leaned against the wall in Quark's bar, watching from a distance
as the young doctor sipped his drink and read his medical reports.  An
exquisite creature, Garak thought appreciatively, and it seems he
could  use some company.  Much to Garak's happiness, the doctor was
sitting all alone.

The Cardassian made his way through the crowd like a shadow, noticed
and whispered about by some but ignored by most, until he reached his
destination.  A casual stroll halfway around the table.  A moment or
two  to admire how handsome the young man looked in his
black-and-turquoise  Starfleet uniform.  The allowance of just enough
time for Bashir to feel Garak's eyes on his body.  The doctor looked
up from his reports, eyes wide with surprise, and Garak greeted him
with a friendly smile.

"It's Doctor Bashir, isn't it?" Garak said pleasantly.  "Of course it
is.  May I introduce myself?"

Bashir looked for all the world like some small animal dazzled by
bright lights, his hazel-green eyes round and luminous.  Positively
precious.  "Uh, yes," he stammered, "yes.  Of course."

"My name is Garak, a Cardassian by birth, obviously.  The only one of
us left on this station, as a matter of fact, so . . . " he slid into
the seat across from the doctor, " . . . I do appreciate making new
friends  whenever I can.  You ARE new to this station, I believe."
Gazing at his new companion with open desire; patiently waiting for a
response.

Bashir fidgeted a bit and said, "I . . . I am, yes," nervously
flicking the trailing leaf of a decorative Bajoran ice lily situated
in a small, white vase away from his hand. And what a lovely hand it
was: smooth, golden-brown, and graced with long, sculpted, slender
fingers.  It took  much control on Garak's part not to reach out and
touch it.  "Though I .  .  . understand YOU'VE been here quite
awhile."

Garak's blue eyes glimmered.  "Ah.  You know of me, then."

Bashir averted his gaze.  "Would you care for some of this Tarcalean
tea?  It's very good."

"What a THOUGHTFUL young man.  How nice that we've met."

Bashir made a vague gesture to a passing waiter, who apparently didn't
notice.  He faced Garak again.  "You know," he began carefully, "some
people say that you remained on DS9 as the . . . eyes and ears of your
fellow Cardassians."

Garak's eyes widened in mock surprise.  "You don't say!" He fixed
Bashir with his gaze again.  "Doctor, you're not intimating that I'm
some sort of SPY, are you?"

Bashir, gawking, opened his mouth as if about to say something, but no
words escaped his lips.  On his second attempt, however, he managed,
"I wouldn't know. Sir."

Garak smiled.  "Ah.  An open mind.  The essence of intellect."  He
paused momentarily, considering his next move.  "As you may also
know, I have a  clothing shop nearby so, if you should require any
apparel or simply wish," lowering his voice meaningfully, "as I do
for a bit of enjoyable company now and then . . . I am at your
disposal, Doctor."

"You're very kind, Mr. . . . Garak."

"Oh, it's just Garak.  Plain.  Simple.  Garak.  Now," he rose from his
seat, "good day to you, Doctor." His gaze never left Bashir.  Should
he dare?  Oh, why not.  Before he walked away, Garak stood behind the
doctor and allowed his hands to come to rest on Bashir's thin
shoulders.  He felt Bashir's body grow tense at his touch; he
imagined how that body would respond to more intimate contact,
grinning in anticipation.  However long it took, this young man would
be his.  "I'm so glad," he  said, "to have made such an . . .
INTERESTING new friend today." Then, as Bashir stared after him,
Garak left the bar.

---

Garak and Doctor Bashir became fast friends, having lunch together on
an  almost daily basis.  Garak offered the inquisitive young doctor
tantalizing hints about the mystery of his past, some true, some
false, some something of both; Bashir offered Garak the refreshing
elixir of his innocence and his awe at the life he imagined Garak
must have led.  But he never offered Garak what Garak had actually
come to him for.  He never offered Garak himself, no matter how
blatantly obvious the Cardassian tried to make his interest in him.
Perhaps Bashir, in his sweet naivete, simply couldn't imagine that
Garak wanted him "that way"; perhaps he wasn't interested.  It was
difficult to tell.

It no longer matters, Garak told himself.  I enjoy his company
immensely, regardless, and I do not wish to risk our friendship.
Nevertheless, he wondered sometimes about the mysteries concealed
beneath the doctor's uniform.  Whether or not Bashir could be as
perfect as he seemed.  How it would feel to touch the young man's
warm, smooth  flesh.  He tried to distract himself from this fantasy
by spending time with Ziyal, the beautiful daughter of Gul Dukat, and
he did grow fond of  her.  He even loved her -- like a sister.  And
thus far, more-or-less, he had treated her as such.  It wouldn't have
been fair to make love to this woman while imagining that he held a
man's body and gazed at a human's face.

"Garak?"

He may yet want me, Garak thought, absently running his thumb up and
down his barely-touched glass of canar.  He just doesn't realize how I
feel about him.  But what if I'm mistaken?  I don't want to lose what
we  have already!  But perhaps under the right circumstances. . . .

"Garak."

Garak blinked and looked at Dr. Bashir.  "Yes, Doctor?" It had been
about five years since their initial meeting.  As usual, the two of
them were having lunch together at Quark's.

"I asked if something was troubling you.  You seem a bit preoccupied."

Garak sighed and shook his head.  "Oh, it's nothing, really," he
assured him in his usual bright tone.  "I've just been feeling a
little . . .  under the weather for the last few weeks.  Perhaps I'm
coming down with some sort of  flu; Ziyal had it just a short time
ago."

Bashir squinted slightly and tilted his head.  "You *look* well," he
said after a fashion, "but perhaps I should examine you, just in case.
If you are infected, I could prescribe a treatment for you before the
condition worsens."

Garak fought back a delighted grin, but couldn't keep the glimmer out
of  his eyes as he said, "Yes, caution is always advisable.  When
shall I meet you, Doctor?"  Sad but true, he always looked forward to
being examined by Bashir.  It seemed that a quick sweep with the
tricorder was as close as he would ever get to having his desire
fulfilled.

"Any time after fifteen-hundred hours should be fine," Bashir said,
checking the pad where his appointments were stored.

Garak nodded.  "Thank-you, Doctor.  I will be there, and I will be on
time."

---

At precisely fifteen-hundred hours, Garak arrived at the door of the
infirmary.  Remain calm, he told himself, taking a few deep breaths.
Do not let him know before the time is right.  As a Bajoran woman and
her little daughter left the infirmary, Dr. Bashir told Garak, "Come
in."

Garak walked in.  The door slid closed behind him.  "No nurses?" he
inquired, looking around.

"It has been an unusually slow day," Dr. Bashir explained.  "The
nurses are on call, but there seemed to be no purpose in keeping them
here when there is so little to do."

Garak swallowed another grin.  "I see."

"Now, Garak, please lie down on the table."

"Alright." He did as he was told.  There was only silence now, save
for  the beeping of Dr. Bashir's making adjustments to the tricorder.
Garak gathered his courage and said, "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Has anyone ever told you how utterly hypnotic your eyes are?  So
expressive and bright.  Are they green or hazel, or maybe something in
between?"

"I've . . . always thought of them as hazel," Bashir answered calmly,
not looking up from the tricorder.  But something was there; Garak
could sense it.  And this emboldened him.

Garak went on, "I've never seen a color look so enticing," his voice
husky and low.

Bashir didn't say anything, though Garak noticed he was blushing.  He
simply performed the examination (it took about a minute) and told
Garak, "I can't find any sign of a viral infection or any other health
problems, but you do have a rapid heartbeat and elevated levels of
epinephrine in your system."  He looked up from the tricorder.  "In
other words Garak, you seem nervous."

Garak sat up and observed, "You seem rather piqued yourself, Doctor.
I wonder if we might share the same stress."

Bashir cleared his throat, looked away and said hastily, "Really, I
feel fine.  Why don't you return to your shop?  I . . . there's . . .
nothing I can do for you."

Before Bashir could stop him, Garak stepped off the examining table
and placed one hand on the doctor's forehead.  "Oh, yes," he said
gravely, shaking his head, "you do feel a little warm.  "Tell me,
Doctor, when was the last time that YOU had a physical?"

"Garak, I --"

"On the table, Doctor.  Among the many skills I've acquired, I have
had  some medical training."

Bashir looked at Garak for a moment, questioning, hazel-jewel eyes
twinkling with amusement.  Then, he set the tricorder on the counter,
lay down on the table and said, "Alright, Garak, examine me.  Treat me
to your expert opinion."

Garak picked up the tricorder and recalibrated it.  He actually had
received some emergency medical training while he was in the Obsidian
Order and had some idea of what he was doing, though his knowledge of
human physiology was somewhat limited.  However, he knew enough for
his purposes.  "Yes," he said, holding the tricorder over Bashir,
"you ARE under stress.  Your heart is beating much too fast.  Your
breathing is a bit too shallow.  And Doctor . . . " he laid his hand
on the young man's cheek, "I'm  getting some very strange readings
from right . . . about . . . here,"  letting his hand slide over
Bashir's chest, his stomach, and finally  between his thighs.  He
cupped the tantalizing bulge down there in his  palm, squeezing it
just slightly.  Bashir closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.  "I
can feel it as I touch you, Julian.  A most fascinating  response."

"Garak. . . ." Julian whispered, arching his back a bit.

"I'd like to examine you more thoroughly," Garak murmured against
Julian's ear.  "I must get you out of that uniform," sliding his hand
down the seal of Julian's jumpsuit.

"Garak," Julian asked softly, "how long have you wanted me?"

"Since the moment I saw you," Garak confessed, gazing into Julian's
eyes and burying his fingers in Julian's thick, dark hair.  It felt
even softer than it looked.  "But it was only recently that I
realized how much." He reached for the doctor's shoes, which he
removed and tossed  aside.

"I have . . . wondered occasionally what it would be like to be with
you," Julian admitted.  "Your strength.  Your knowledge.  Your
mysterious nature.  I --"

Garak put his finger to Julian's lips.  "No words, dear Doctor.  Just
let me pleasure you."

Julian nodded his understanding.

---

Garak undressed Julian slowly, savoring the revelation of the young
doctor's exquisite tawny flesh.  "Just as I imagined you," he said
appreciatively when Julian lay naked before him, "lithe, amply
endowed, truly a living work of art.  I've often wondered just how
far those geneticists went in perfecting you." He bruised Julian's
lips with a kiss, exploring Julian's body with his hands as he did.

A soft groan escaped Julian's throat as Garak made love to him
passionately, voraciously, almost brutally.  Desire contained a bit
too long had given Garak an insatiable hunger; semiconsciously, he
endeavored to tell Bashir "You are mine" with his touch.  He saw that
he had left marks on Julian's sweet body, a few red fingerprints here
and there on his shoulders, his waist, his buttocks, his thighs.
Julian gave no complaints.  But Garak deliberately avoided touching
Julian's dick, which grew stiffer by the moment.  And he knew what
this was doing to him.

"You want to come, don't you?" Garak rasped.

"Please," Julian begged.

"As soon as I wish it, I will allow it.  But before I do. . . ." Garak
quickly stripped out of his clothing, giving Julian a good look at his
erection.

"Impressive," Julian said truthfully.

"It would seem, Doctor, that my touching your body has had its effect
on me was well."

Clearly, Julian realized what Garak wanted from him.  He knelt before
Garak and held Garak's dick, stroking it, teasing the head with his
tongue. . . .

"Yes," Garak whispered.  He braced himself by leaning back against the
nearby counter.  "Yes, that's it exactly," feeling his orgasm
approaching like a tidal wave.  He groaned, eyes closed, as his body
convulsed with pleasure and as the hot semen was expelled from him in
a silver-gray stream.  Once recovered, he took a deep breath and
exhaled it in a contented sigh.  His beloved doctor still knelt at
his feet, gazing up at him in adoration.  Some of Garak's come had
splattered on Julian's face.  Some of it ran down his slender arms.
Some of it rolled between his  legs.  Julian reached down to dip his
finger in one of the tiny mercury pools, stuck his finger in his
mouth and grinned like a bad little boy.

"Is it my turn now, Garak?"

Garak said, "You've earned your reward."

At Garak's request, Julian lay down on the table again.  Garak bent
over  him and cupped Julian's balls in his hand, stroking the sac
until Julian moaned and drew up his knees.  "Do you like this,
Julian?"

Through a haze of ecstasy, Julian whispered, "Elim. . . .  Don't stop.
.  . ."

Garak smiled.  "My given name," he remarked, "has never sounded
better."  He kissed Julian's lips again and started to go over
Julian's dick with his hands.  Human flesh. . . .  So pliant.  So
smooth.  So willing.  Garak took a taste and found it pleasing.  He
gradually took more into his mouth, licking, swirling, sucking harder
until Julian cried out with pleasure and squirmed in delight.

"Elim," Julian moaned, "Elim. . . !"

Garak knew that Julian was on the brink of coming now.  He felt a
tremor run through Julian's body, followed by the wild thrusting of
the young  doctor's hips and the salty taste of human come.  Garak
swallowed a little and then let the rest of the sticky, white liquid
run over his fingers and onto Julian's warm-brown skin.  A living
work of art, he thought, admiring the masterpiece of naked Julian
still weak from climax, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, dripping
with the silver- cream swirls of his own semen mingled with Garak's.
I could keep you like this forever.

Julian slowly opened his eyes.  Breathless, he said, "That was
incredible."

Garak caressed Julian's cheek.  "I sincerely hope that this time will
not be the last."

"No, though it may be difficult to keep this -- us -- a secret for
long  on a station like this.  And Dax especially will probably have a
field day." He paused a moment.  "I wonder if anyone heard us?"

Garak smiled.  "Possibly.  You were quite verbal in your
appreciation."

Julian returned the smile modestly.

"Now.  Why don't I clean you up?"

Garak found a towel and, reluctantly, removed the traces of passion
from Julian's skin as best he could.  Even more reluctantly, he
watched as Julian hid his beautiful body behind his uniform once
more, and Garak  dressed as well.  How long would it be before he
could have the doctor this way again?  Only time and circumstance
would tell.  But as Julian himself had said, this time would not be
the last.

---

The End