The BLTS Archive- Cardassia Sutra
by Arcady (arcady@fastnet.co.uk)

---

OK, here's the latest.  I'm indebted to Marcia for this one, since she
got me thinking again about some of the Cardassian perversions I
invented in an earlier story.  Cheers!  This one's for you.

Not a lot of plot. Some sex. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that Paramount has exclusive rights to
the Star Trek universe, and that all characters are the uncontested
property of Paramount television.

---

'He's writing a *what*!?' Slowly, the Cardassian turned to meet
Bashir's gaze, and what the doctor glimpsed in the depths of those
eyes made him flinch.  He refused, however, to let Garak browbeat him.

'You heard me the first time.'

'I'm beginning to wonder whether I've actually begun to imagine
things,' Garak said plaintively.  He sat down in the nearest chair. 
'People keep telling me things that seem increasingly hard to
believe.'

'I know it may sound preposterous, but that's what Dr Miller said.
He's producing a guide to the sexual practices of Alpha Quadrant
species, and inter-species sexual conduct.'

'Well, he can do it without my co-operation.  And the most insulting
thing - if you're to be believed - is that he's offered to pay!  I'm
surprised he didn't  suggest  I start hanging around on the Promenade
and soliciting passers-by.'

'I think you're making a little too much out of this - after all, it
is supposed to be a serious scientific study.  The amount of research
he's done has been enormous.' Bashir told his friend.

'But what's the point? I mean, my homeworld's in ruins, yours is at
war - doesn't he think people have better things to do? '

'It's a series of hypothetical case studies,' Bashir said,
defensively. Rising, the Cardassian took a swift step forward; Bashir
hastily backed away.  When he had first raised the subject, he had not
been sure what reaction to expect; he had vaguely intended to tease
Garak, engage in their usual mildly acrimonious flirting.  He'd hoped
that the issue might provide a context in which to raise a related
topic: that of his own personal desires.  At the time, it had seemed
an ideal opportunity to discuss the evidently mutual attraction
between them, and finally do something about it.  Garak, however,
appeared genuinely outraged.

'You told me it was an actual manual,' he spat.  'In fact, you said
that was how he was hoping to sell it.  A step by step guide.  With
illustrations.'

'Diagrams.  There's a difference.' The Cardassian gave him a dark
look.

'Not to my mind.  What horrifies me, Doctor, is that you're actually
willing to assist him in this deplorable project.'

'Well, I wasn't thinking of *modelling* for it.  But he's an old
friend of mine - we've known each other since medical academy.  I
simply offered him access to the infirmary's databases - after all,
I've assessed quite a respectable amount of data on Cardassian
physiology myself over the years.'

'*How*?'

'What do you mean, *how*?  How do you think?  Through case studies,
and material in the old archives, and empirical testing-'

'Personal observation, you mean.'

'What? God, Garak, there are times when I think your ego's the size of
- of Dukat's at least.  If you think I've employed valuable time and
resources cataloguing the minutiae of your medical examinations,
you're wrong.'

'Oh, so now I'm not *interesting* enough to be worth a mention in a
no-doubt classic work of inter-species sexuality?  Doubtless I lack
sufficient presence to prove of interest to readers desperate to learn
how to conduct a human-Cardassian relationship. Presumably I -'

'Don't twist my arguments like that.  That's not what I said,' Bashir
pleaded.  Then, a suspicion entered his mind.

'You're enjoying this.' Thus discovered, the Cardassian beamed at him.

'Naturally.  The stirring cut and thrust of debate!  Nothing like it.
Except one thing, of course.' His voice was suddenly rough.  Having
backed Bashir against the wall, he was closer to the young human than
he had ever been before.  Bashir could feel the Cardassian's warm
breath on his skin; he could smell Garak's own subtly indefinable
odour, and it made it difficult to think.

'What's that?' he murmured hopefully into Garak's shoulder.

'Tea,' the tailor said, abruptly releasing him.  'What would you like,
Doctor, Lapsang Souchong or your usual Red Leaf?'

---

'All right,' the Cardassian said, with resignation.  'What does he
want to know?'

'First of all, there's a set of standard questions - anonymous, of
course, purely demographic - about the person answering the
questionnaire. Age, and so forth.'

'What about my age?' Garak asked.  The doctor sighed.

'Please don't look so suspicious.  How old are you, that's all.'

'Why would anyone want to know that?'

'Presumably because different age ranges would give different answers.
The responses you'll put won't be the same as the ones a younger man
might come up with, for instance.' The glacial quality of the
Cardassian's stare made Bashir realise, too late, that this was not
the right thing to say.

'Oh, just fill it out as best you can.  Call me when you've finished
the first section.'

Covertly, he watched as Garak completed the first part of the form. 
He very much hoped that the Cardassian would not be tempted simply to
lie, but supposed that this desire was of the same order of magnitude
as hoping that water wouldn't be wet. The tailor completed certain
answers swiftly, pausing over others, and on some of the questions a
smile of dubious origin played about his mouth.  It made Bashir
nervous.  He found himself shifting impatiently from foot to foot.  On
the final question the tailor seemed to be writing pages in reply.  
Bashir tried to look over his shoulder, but Garak shifted position 
slightly so that this was impossible, Frustrated, Bashir gave up and 
went to sit moodily on the couch.  At last, the Cardassian said

'Very well.  I think that's all I have to say about that.  Now, on to
section two.'  He scrolled down the screen and paused. 'This seems a
little personal.'

'What is it?'

'One's required to give quite specific details.  And there is mention
of sexual deviation.'

'Good lord.'

'I presume Dr Miller's familiar with Cardassian physiology?'

'I think so.'

'I'm not sure some of what we classify as deviant behaviour would even
really make sense to a human being.'  He glanced at Bashir with a
degree of sudden speculation that made the doctor catch his breath. 'I
know exactly what we need.' His heart in his mouth, Bashir breathed

'What?'

'We need a copy of the Book of Amura.'

'What's that?' Bashir said, momentarily baffled.

'What a sheltered life you've led, Doctor.  It's the greatest work of
Cardassian erotica ever produced.  It's two thousand years old, and
it's the defining text to all Cardassian sexual practices.' Bashir
realised that he was leaning forward in his chair.

'Have you got a copy?'

'Naturally not.'

'Oh.'

'What use would it be to me, all on my own here?  I fear it's been
some time since I put the sage precepts of the Book of Amura to
use...Ah well. That's all in the past now.  I'll have to see if I can
get hold a copy; Quark might be able to procure one.  In the meantime,
I'll hang onto the questionnaire.  Does Dr Miller have a deadline?'

'Not really.  He's busy cataloguing the Bajorans.'

'That shouldn't take long,' Garak murmured disparagingly.  'Do you
know, they only permit one position?  The one that's the least fun. 
No wonder the good Major always looks so cross. Anyway, don't let me
keep you chatting here.  I'm sure you have work to do.'

Dismissed, a frustrated Bashir left.  Once he had gone, Garak crossed
to the bookcase, extracted a well-thumbed copy of the Book of Amura
and carried it into the adjoining room, where he hid it under the bed.
Just in case.  Now that the long game seemed about to reach its end,
it wouldn't do to bring things to a close too quickly.

---

'Has the book arrived yet?' Bashir was starting to seem a little 
hollow-eyed these days, the Cardassian reflected.  Perhaps he wasn't 
getting enough sleep.  Perhaps he was worrying about something. 
In any case, it had now been a week since their original conversation;
quite long enough to torment the young man.

'As a matter of fact - yes, it has.'

'Can I have a look at it?'

'I think we should have a look at it together, and then you can tell
me what you think Dr Miller should focus on.  It's in my quarters. 
Shall I go and fetch it?  We can study it in the infirmary.'

'We need to concentrate on this,' Bashir said quickly.
'Perhaps it would be better to go somewhere where we won't be, uh,
distracted. Your quarters, for example.'

'Maybe you're right,' the Cardassian said.  'But I've only got an hour
or so, mind you; I've got Ensign Kora's wedding bodice to complete and
it's a tricky bit of work - never mind, this won't take long.'

Twenty minutes later, Bashir turned the book upside down again.

'You seem to be having a little trouble.  Is there anything I can
clarify?' the Cardassian said.

'What did you say this particular practice was called?' Bashir asked.

'It translates as 'promagamation'.  Perhaps it's not a very clear
illustration.  You see, the right arachial ridge *here* slits into the
central hollow along her hip.'

'And that's enjoyable?'

'People have been known to have heart-attacks.'  The Cardassian drew a
deep, steadying breath.

'And what's the other one?  The one you said was illegal on five
continents?'

'Imission.'

'And what happens there?'

'Well, if it's practised according to the Third Rule of
Massiria, the axial arch is held against the female's central ridge
while internal manipulation occurs, but if it's male-to-male contact
then the dorsal ridges are gently stimulated orally and, um...' The
Cardassian's blue eyes appeared somewhat glazed.

'Garak?' Bashir said, with sudden determination.

'Yes?'

'I think you'd better show me.' He was gratified to see that the
Cardassian was thoroughly taken aback.

'What?' Garak said.

'Oh, come on.  You've been flirting with me for ages.  Don't pretend
you haven't.'

'I must say, Doctor, your approach is refreshingly direct.  An
invitation to sample the wilder shores of love, no less.  You can
hardly blame me for being startled. How would you feel if I suddenly
turned round and said 'Good morning, Julian, feel like a quick spot of
- of -''

'Frottage?'

'Possibly.  Is that a common human perversion?'

'I hope not.'

'Hmm. Well, you're not a Cardassian, you know.  It'll have to be an
approximation of the practice.' Smoothly, he slid along the couch and
slipped an arm around Bashir's shoulders.

'I don't care.'

'Very well,' the tailor murmured into his ear.  'I suppose in terms of
Cardassian-human sexuality, you're effectively a virgin. Unless
there's something I don't know about.'  His teeth met possessively in
the lobe of the doctor's ear: Bashir yelped.

'No.  No, you're the first.'

'Good.' An insistent hand slid inside his tunic and began to explore.
'That's what I wanted to hear.'

Matters progressed swiftly from this point. Within minutes, Bashir
found himself clasped to the Cardassian's chest as a warm mouth
travelled slowly across his bare shoulder.  He ran a tentative hand
down the glossy scales of Garak's back, and to his surprise felt the
tailor shiver.  Garak was whispering in his ear, something that the
doctor failed to hear.

'What did you say?'

'Never mind...' Writhing round, Bashir gazed up into the face of
someone utterly familiar, yet somehow unknown.  He had never seen that
expression on Garak's features before: abstracted with need and
curiously vulnerable.  The Cardassian's pupils were enormous,
swallowing the vivid blue of the iris; he ducked his head away from
Bashir's gaze. Bashir felt a sudden intoxicating rush of power.

'You want this, don't you?' he hissed and Garak, sliding back against
the couch, whispered assent. Bashir stroked the curve of the
breastplate, as cool and smooth as stone, then slipped his hand down
to the Cardassian's stomach.  In contrast, the skin was hot, as though
Garak had been lying in the sun, and softer than the doctor had
imagined.  He drew his palm across the sleek expanse of flesh, feeling
it quiver beneath his hand. Unfastening his own trousers, the tailor 
grasped Bashir's fingers and drew them down along an intricate tracery 
of ridges, then pressed them against the base of his stomach.   The 
flesh felt swollen and soft between the scales; Bashir pressed harder 
and the Cardassian gasped.  Bashir paused for an uncertain moment, 
then slipped a finger between the ridges to find a narrow space, silky 
with moisture.  Further in, he could feel something ridged and rigid
beginning to stir.  He smiled to himself: trust the Cardassians to
keep secrets.

Then Garak's own hands began to caress him, drawing aside his uniform
with inhuman patience.  He was forced back against the carpet, his
senses overwhelmed by the desired, unfamiliar presence, his hand
massaging the taut ridges and yielding flesh at Garak's groin until he
felt the length of the Cardassian's cock slide out.  Above him, Garak
arched his back and groaned. As it lay heavily in his hand, the
tailor's member did not feel remotely human; Bashir reflexively let
go.  Garak growled in frustration and knelt back, revealing himself to 
view.

'Wow,' said Bashir, impressed.  The Cardassian peered down at him.

'What?'

'Nothing, it's just not quite what I - I mean, you're quite something,
aren't you?'

'Thank you,' Garak said. 'I think.'  Lazily possessive, he ran a hand
along Bashir's thigh to his groin.  Bashir lay back and let the tailor
explore, feeling the delicious sensation of his own erection growing
beneath Garak's demanding hand. 'Ah,' the Cardassian said,
meditatively.

'Mmm?'

'There doesn't seem to be anywhere I can, ah, enter...' Bashir felt
his eyebrows ascend his forehead.

'What were you expecting?'

'You don't seem to have any sort of pelvic cavity.'

'Not apart from the one inside my pelvis, no.'  Then he remembered 
those early investigations into Cardassian anatomy. 'Oh, I know what 
you mean.' He slipped his fingers between the tailor's legs with 
professional acumen. 'Like that?' It was a moment before Garak
regained his breath.

'Next time, give me some warning...Yes, like that.  I didn't
realise...I knew you were constructed -' his gaze lingered on Bashir's
erection ' - as you are, but I thought some things were analogous -
never mind.  If imission is indeed the order of the day, we'll have to
improvise.'

Some time later, Bashir lay panting on the floor.

'You see what I mean?' the Cardassian said.  'It's not easy to
describe.'

'No.  No, I can quite understand that.  Look, I think we should give
up on the Book of Amura and just experiment a little.' Garak's
expressive gaze grew languid.

'As you wish,' he purred.

And so they experimented, rewriting the chapters of love, in which the
doctor learned the taste of the Cardassian's skin, salt-sweet under
his tongue, the scales slick with sweat...the unexpected softness
behind the knee, in the curve of an armoured elbow, beneath the
chin...the dark flush of arousal spreading across the twilight flesh,
Garak's voice changing, losing control as Bashir finally dared to take
the tip of the glistening shaft into his mouth and suck hard,
caressing the ridges that he knew instinctively must ache, until the 
strong body above him convulsed into orgasm...

...and later, Garak taking him with no uncertainty, no
hesitation, just the assuredness of possession, and he felt through
the rising haze of desire that he'd never trusted anyone as much as
this before...the Cardassian smiling down at him in triumph and
pleasure as he came against Garak's smooth belly, writhing against the
erection inside him, trying to take more and more of that alien cock,
Garak's breath coming fast in his ear as the tailor approached climax, 
then Garak's weight, comforting and uncomfortable, pressing him into 
the floor...

...and the sight of that sinuous scaled spine rippling below him as
Garak, on his knees, threw back his head and cried out, the
Cardassian's body contracting around his erection, milking him dry, a
ridged shaft pulsing hard against his fingers and the sudden hot
slippery weight of alien semen in his palm...

...Garak learning the delicacy of human flesh, its vulnerability, the
young man's silky hair against his stomach, the tentative warmth of
the human's mouth on each sore ridge, forcing him to plead for more,
harder, more...

...then when he couldn't bear it any longer, sliding inside Bashir's
supple, willing body, trying and failing to take things slowly,
thrusting harder and faster until the expression in Bashir's dark
eyes, desire and admiration and love, caused him to reach down and
kiss the young man with slow deliberate gentleness, even though he was
close to coming...Bashir's hand pressing against the engorged ridges
and the knowledge that he couldn't hold back any longer, his orgasm 
starting to grow deep within his belly...The sound of his own voice 
crying out as climax took him in waves...

...Then later the sensation of Bashir inside him, moving with
unexpected confidence, taking him closer and closer to the edge once
more until he abandoned his prized self- control and let himself be
thoroughly fucked...

...And the sheer pleasure of being with someone again, someone who
cared about him, who let him lie quietly and stroked his hair until he
fell into an entranced doze...

---

'Wake up,' Bashir said, into his ear.

'What? Oh, I'm sorry, Julian.' The Cardassian rolled over, releasing
the young man.  He was dimly aware that Bashir had begun to laugh,
softly.

'Julian?'

'Obviously the Book of Amura has greater powers than we thought...I'm 
turning into a Cardassian...' Startled, Garak raised his head and saw 
that the pattern of his scales was marked into the young man's softer 
flesh.  He reached out and drew a gentle finger around the concave 
configuration of his pectoral ridge, temporarily etched ochre into 
Bashir's own skin.  It was already fading.

'Doctor Miller would have a field day...' the Cardassian murmured. 'If 
he existed, that is.' Bashir fixed him with a limpid, mischievous eye 
and replied

'I'll be sure to take extensive notes of our findings.'

'I'm sure you will.'

'What about Ensign Kora's wedding bodice?' the doctor asked, idly.

'I lied.'

'I thought so.'

'I'm rather proud of you, you know,' the Cardassian said. 'You're a 
quick learner.  Must be those enhancements.'

'I had a good tutor.'  Bashir sat up and punched the tailor lightly on
the shoulder.  'Stop looking so smug.'

'That is post-coital smugness.  It's allowed.' He paused. 'It's been a 
long time.'  He had not meant to sound so wistful. Their eyes met, 
then Bashir leant down and kissed him.

'I know.'  The young man's thumb followed a gentle trace around an
eye-ridge.  Sliding an arm around Garak's shoulders, he resumed his
light tone.  'Well, how did that compare with imission?'

'Very favourably.'

'What other Cardassian perversions are there?  Did we do any of them?'

'Yes, I think so.' The Cardassian kissed his throat with sudden
affection.  'But I also think it's important to get the basics sorted
out before one considers anything more...sophisticated.'

'Perhaps you're right.  Well, since I invented Doctor Miller, there's
the terrible possibility that future human-Cardassian couples will be
forced to wallow in ignorance and darkness...Do you think we really
should write a manual?'

'It's a sound idea.  But I think it would be unscientific to begin on
so little evidence. It would be unempirical.'

'Do you think we need more data?'

'I think so, yes.  We want to be sure, after all.'

'That's right.  And scientifically speaking, the only test of whether
an experiment's been successful or not is its repeatability. Excuse
me.' He rolled over, embracing the Cardassian.  'I have a theory to
test...'

---

The End