| Author:
Victoria Meredith
Pairing: Garak/Damar Rating: NC-17 Feedback: < [email protected] > Disclaimer: Viacom is Borg - that pretty much says it all. Notes: Part of the "Garak Fuh-q Fest" Archiving: ( Cardassian Choir )
Garak carried the heavy garment bags carefully down the cellar stairs of his boyhood home and hoped that the suits hadn't gotten too wrinkled. In the cellar, Damar sat intently studying the monitor of the small computer set up near the foot of the stairs. As had become his habit of late, Damar wore only his gray uniform pants and black undershirt with his armament lying neatly on his bunk. It would be easy simply to think that he wanted to be more comfortable by foregoing his full uniform, but Garak had taken it as a sign that Damar was finally, if sub-consciously, rejecting the symbol of the militaristic Cardassian state. At Garak's approach, Damar looked up, seeming relieved to see him. "Garak," Damar greeted him as he rose from the chair. "Were you able to get Tovren's cell the materials they requested?" "It's taken care of," Garak assured him. "Tovren's people will be able to make all the explosive devices they need." Damar gave a curt nod. "Good. What have you there?" "A few suits," Garak replied as he laid the garment bags across the surface of his bunk and began to open them. "At a time like this, you went shopping?" Damar asked bemusedly. "Actually, they're gifts," Garak told him. "From an admirer." "An admirer?" Damar's amused tone deepened. "You've made friends quickly in the underground, I see." Garak straightened and gave Damar a smile. "An admirer of yours," he corrected. Damar scowled at that. "Of mine," he grumbled as he turned away to sit back at the terminal. "You've managed to gain a few," Garak commented, knowing full well what an understatement that was. "You know, I would have thought that you'd be pleased to have the admiration of the Cardassian people." "The only thing that pleases me about it is that they're using me as an example to fight against the Dominion." "They're using you as their source of inspiration, not just as an example." Damar turned in his chair to look at Garak. "They're using me as a symbol and not a very realistic or truthful one, either. If it inspires them, fine. I know what it means to have a symbol to inspire people, but I'm not about to sit here and believe their delusions about me. It seems to me that they have forgotten quite a bit about me, and as soon as they all figure out that the man they admire so much is doing nothing but hiding in a cellar, their admiration will be quickly gone." As he pulled one of the suits out of the bag, Garak shook his head at Damar's pessimism. "Where's Commander Kira? I thought the two of you were going to be working out a targeting schedule." "We finished that this morning," Damar told him as he turned away again. "She went to Preda's house to teach her cell some sabotage techniques. She won't be back for hours. I don't like it. Kira seems to think that robe of hers is enough to protect her. She shouldn't be out in the streets any more than I should be." Garak heard the envy in Damar's grumbling tone. He pulled out the second suit, straightening it with a few brushes of his hand before laying it down on the bunk. "What are you working on?" Garak asked. Damar slumped back in his chair. "Nothing," he muttered as he turned off the terminal. "Just some ideas about reforms." "Ideas that you don't think will work out?" Damar rose from the chair again, his agitation clear as he started to pace. "I don't know if they would work out or not. What I need is what I don't have. An advisor who understands how to structure a new government. What do I know about government except how we've done things in the past? And how we've done things in the past isn't right for us anymore. We need something better than our old State, but I just don't know how to go about making something better. I'm not a statesman. I'm hardly a politician. I'm just a soldier." Garak smiled at that. "Perhaps more than just a soldier. Besides, worrying about such matters can come later. It's enough to focus on driving out the Dominion right now." "I suppose," Damar said, but Garak knew that he would continue to worry about it, and perhaps he should. After all, what was left of the old Cardassian State would likely crumble once the Dominion was gone. Something was needed to replace it. Damar continued his pacing, his hands clenching and unclenching. Garak sighed as he pulled the third suit from the bag. About the only thing Damar could do was to pace and think and worry. Living with him had become frustrating. Over the past week, Damar's excitement over their people's willingness to fight for their freedom remained, but he had become filled with tense energy that he had no means to release. Garak knew that Damar's drive for the fight and excitement for the unity growing among their people because of him made him want to go out into the streets himself and join the burgeoning effort to resist the Dominion. Not that he could do such a thing. Damar was too famous for that. He would either get mobbed by the people in their excitement at being near their hero or arrested on sight by the Jem'Hadar patrolling the streets. All he could do was hide and contribute what he could to creating resistance cells among the people, study maps and schematics to find suitable targets with Kira, and plan for the future he envisioned of a new Cardassia. Garak knew all of that wasn't enough for him. "Damar, why don't you try on some of these suits?" Garak suggested, gesturing to the garments. Damar gave the suits a dismissive frown. "It's not appropriate. I'm a military officer. I can't go about out of uniform." "Well, for one thing, you can't 'go about' at all," Garak point out. "For another, you haven't worn your full uniform in days. I think it's time for you to give it up." Damar froze at that. "Give up my uniform?" he asked in a shocked tone. "How can you expect me to do that? Do you know what you're suggesting?" "I do," Garak replied. "I'm suggesting that you retire your commission as an officer." "But the military is my career." "Not any longer." "I think it is," Damar insisted. "Once the Dominion's gone, the fact that I'm a military officer won't change. The military has been my life ever since I was conscripted when I was fourteen." "What loyalty do you still owe to the military?" Garak challenged. "Damar, the military is your enemy. They've rejected you. They've fought against you. You gave a clear command in your resistance speech for all Cardassians, including the military, to fight back against the Dominion. In my view, they've disobeyed your orders as their supreme commander, and I don't think that you owe the military a thing." Damar's hard expression turned troubled as his eyes lingered on the suits. Garak waited, seeing him weighing the issue in his mind as he chewed the inside of his lip. Garak could understand that it was a difficult decision. Being a military officer was one way Damar defined himself, just as being an Obsidian Order operative once had been an important part of Garak's self-identity. Still, Damar's uniform represented the last hold the old Cardassia had on him, and thinking of the military as his career only revealed to him that Damar still clung to an identity that no longer fit him. He wanted a new Cardassia and that meant he had to be a new kind of leader for Cardassia. "I know why you want me to do this," Damar said in a hollow voice, not looking at Garak. "More symbolism. I represent the military when I wear my uniform, and you're right, the military has chosen the Dominion against me. Still, I won't give up hope that they will realize that the Dominion is Cardassia's true enemy. They may reject me but I won't reject them." Garak smiled. Never had he met anyone capable of such depths of loyalty. "It is symbolism, Damar. Your uniform represents Cardassia in the hands of the Dominion. The military State is no longer the true Cardassia. The true Cardassia is out there with the people willing to risk their lives to fight for it, and it's here in this cellar with you dreaming of a new Cardassia. You don't represent the military State any longer. You represent the people." Damar's lips pursed then he stepped forward and grabbed the jacket of one of the suits. "Very well. If I must live my life as a symbol, better that I represent the people than the military. Besides, when this is finished, I don't want a military dictatorship ruling Cardassia. I'm not a military leader any longer." "No, you're not," Garak said with a nod, "you're a man of the people." Damar gave a bemused shake of his head as he picked up the pair of pants matching the jacket. Garak cringed seeing him carry the garments with no regard for the fabric as he moved around the bunks to the partition they had set up as a dressing area. Garak felt almost but not quite sorry for him. He would actually feel sorry for him if he didn't know that Damar could handle the changes that had been forced upon him. So many changes so quickly, yet Damar continued to rise up to meet the challenges and exceeded expectations again and again. Garak had never met a man quite like him. For a long time, Garak had hated Damar. Dukat's thug. The murderer. The drunken Dominion puppet. A ruthless, aggressive man of limited intelligence and weak character who couldn't have been a worse choice to make leader of Cardassia. Or so, Garak had once thought. It wasn't long after Garak joined Damar's rebellion that he discovered that many preconceived beliefs he had about Damar either no longer fit him or were never true. He had required close observation, for Damar hid much behind his hard, straightforward manner. It would be far too easy to take him at face value and assume that he was a rather simple, pragmatic, hard man, when beneath his surface, he wasn't those things at all. There was nothing simple about Damar. Instead of pragmatism, his heart held a stirring idealism that needed to be encouraged in the right directions, made clear and pure through painful truths, and protected from both cynicism and delusion. Beneath his hardness was a surprising strength that endured pain and vulnerability, tremendous grief and a multitude of wounds in his heart not fully healed. Garak had hated him and had very good reasons to hate him. He had resolved when he first joined the rebellion to hold on to his hatred. Yet, day by day, his hatred sifted away like fine grains of sand blown out of his hand by a gentle yet unrelenting wind until his hatred was gone and loyalty took its place. Loyalty and admiration, hope and belief, all in a man who had seemed so unlikely to be deserving of such things. Garak waited for Damar, feeling warmth in his heart thinking about him. No, he could no longer hate a man like him. Instead, he felt affection. Damar stirred Garak with his strength and idealism and dreams for a better Cardassia. He exasperated Garak with his moodiness and quick temper and his tendency towards recklessness. He amused Garak with the way he could face his flaws without flinching, yet not be able to completely face the whole truth of who he was, the truths that had earned him the admiration of the people. And the rare flash of his cocky grin never failed to make Garak smile. Looking not at all pleased, Damar stepped from the partition, tugging at the jacket. To Garak, he looked transformed. Even more handsome and not nearly as hard, though the brown color of the suit did nothing for his dusky gray skin. "It doesn't feel right," Damar grumbled. "It's too tight across the shoulders," Garak assessed, studying him. "The pants are too long," Damar added ruefully, looking down at his legs. "Not surprising." Garak nodded. Damar was just shy of being of average height, but where he lacked perfection in height, everything else about his body made up for it. With his broad chest and shoulders and narrow waist, he was a prime example of the classic male Cardassian form, a form exaggerated by the triangular shape of the military uniform. Even in the ill-fitting suit, Garak could see that Damar's form didn't need the exaggeration. "Fortunately for you," Garak said with a smile, "I give free alterations at any time." Damar gave a slight smile as though trying to lighten up. "I suppose I'll have to take advantage of your services," he said. "My pleasure," Garak assured him. Garak stepped forward and reached out to pull a bit at the shoulders of the suit to see how much give there might be. Giving Damar's shoulders a critical study, he smoothed out the fabric, feeling the tense muscles beneath the jacket. Then he knelt down and straightened Damar's pant legs. What he really needed was a measuring tool, but lacking that, he used his own practiced eye as he looked from Damar's inseam to where the pant legs bunched over his bare feet. "The alterations can be done," Garak said as he stood to face Damar, "but I don't care for the color. What do you think?" Damar shrugged as Garak absently straightened his collar. "The color seems fine." "It's not right for your skin tone," Garak informed him, looking him over again. Noticing that the pants didn't hang well on him, Garak moved his hands down to Damar's waist, feeling beneath the fabric his firm body. "These are too loose. I'll fix them if you like the suit, but perhaps one of the others would be better." "I'm not sure if I like it or not," Damar said, tugging at the jacket again as Garak walked around him to study the suit from the back. "Maybe if it fit better, I would." Garak smoothed the jacket across his back, his hands moving over the knots within his muscles. "You're far too tense, Damar. You need to relax." Damar snorted at that. "I don't do anything else but relax," he groused. "All I can do is sit around here doing nothing. It's like being a prisoner." "Which is hardly relaxing." "It wouldn't be so bad if I had some company," Damar said with a frustrated sigh. "It gets very quiet and very lonely here when you and Kira leave." Garak rubbed his shoulders, feeling sympathetic. "It won't last forever." "If this isn't over soon, I think I'll go insane. I can't stand being shut off from people, and I hate being alone." "I feel the same." "And I have to confess . . . Kira's beginning to look good to me." Shocked, Garak pulled back. "You must be joking," he said, moving around to stand in front of him. At least Damar had the decency to look embarrassed. "A man has needs, Garak," he muttered. "How well I know," Garak replied. "But you really want Kira?" "Kira's not so bad," Damar said, nearly stammering and amusing Garak with his embarrassed defense. "She's a very passionate, spirited woman. She isn't what I call beautiful, and she's far too thin and small for my taste, but she is strong and well put together. She's rather handsome in that Starfleet uniform of hers. And she looks much more feminine and attractive now with her hair longer, and those little braids of hers are rather fetching and . . . " Damar suddenly grimaced as though finally hearing what he was saying. "And if she even suspected me of thinking these things, she'd pound me into the ground." Garak laughed. "Without a doubt," he agreed. "I know," Damar muttered with another frustrated sigh, "I sound pathetic." "Not at all," Garak told him graciously. "We all have need for intimacy." "I've become spoiled. I was used to having my needs fulfilled on my slightest whim. But it's been months, Garak. Months." Try years, Garak thought bitterly, his sympathy for Damar ebbing, though he did understand. "I assume you've tried the usual methods to give yourself relief?" Garak asked. Damar snorted. "Meaning my hand? It's not enough. I need the touch of another person. I need to feel a woman in my arms again, and I need to . . . well, feel a woman." "It's not a problem that can't be solved," Garak said carefully. "I'm sure that I can bring someone to you." "A comfort woman?" Damar asked, surprising Garak with his hesitancy. Apparently, Damar also surprised himself, giving a sudden bitter laugh. "I can't believe that my first reaction to that is to say no. I suppose I'm not that desperate." "Perhaps it's because you're taking your role as our leader seriously." "Maybe." "Or you have too much self-respect now to lower yourself by being with a prostitute." "I've lowered myself before," Damar confessed. "I just don't like comfort women. Either they're so jaded that they're hard, or they're so terrified of you that you have to spend a half an hour convincing them that you won't hurt them just so they would stop trembling every time you touch them." Garak cocked his head at this revelation. "Most men wouldn't bother convincing them." "I don't like women terrified of me. Only weak, petty men find pleasure from fear. Though, most of comfort women are just hard and cold. It's as if they don't care what you do to them. The whole thing is so impersonal, don't you think?" "Quite impersonal," Garak agreed, "though that is the point for some men." "Not for me. Besides, people have a bad enough impression of me as it is. I don't need to add to my sorry reputation by having you bringing me prostitutes." "As I thought," Garak nodded. "Though you're forgetting that the people's impression of you has changed for the better. Mine certainly has. I told you that you've gained admirers. I'm sure that some young woman from one of the cells would be delighted to . . ." "No," Damar cut him off harshly. "I'm not going to ask a good Cardassian woman to degrade herself by prostituting herself to me. Enough of that goes on as it is among the powerful in our society. It's been done to me and I've done it to others. But I have too much respect for any woman who joins our fight to expect her to lie with me just because I have difficulty controlling my urges." His tension risen to new heights, Damar snatched up the second suit. "I appreciate that you're concerned, but I can live with it." Watching him storm away to the dressing area, Garak cringed. He may be able to live with it, but Garak didn't think that he could continue to live with a man so obviously sexually frustrated. Still, Garak had to admit that, for no other reason, bringing a woman to Damar, whether a comfort woman or a woman from one of the cells, would be too risky. His hiding place had to remain a secret for their security. A shame, Garak thought, that Damar was only interested in women. He wouldn't mind helping him burn off some of that tension. The thought made Garak swallow, especially when he felt a warmth spread through his neck ridges and deep in his pod. Generally, Garak's preference leaned towards people more refined and subtle than men like Damar, but he was a handsome man and his power, both in body and in spirit, was undeniably attractive. Over the years, Garak had heard many rumors about his prodigious sexual appetite, heard as often as he had rumors about his excessive drinking habits. The man was considered quite a lothario, and though rumors tended to exaggerate things for good or for bad, Garak knew rumors were often based on fact. Considering it too dangerous to allow his thoughts to move towards fantasizing about an encounter of intimacy that would likely never happen, Garak pushed away his thoughts and hoped that the swelling of his neck ridges wasn't too obvious. Besides, Damar's preferences were clear. It was obvious that he never considered Garak in his desire for sexual release. He'd rather have a spitfire Bajoran terrorist in his bed than an older, cultured Cardassian male. Damar came around the partition, looking a bit more pleased and much better, for the color of the second garment, a dark forest green, suited him well. Handing over the brown suit to Garak, he spread his arms. "What do you think?" he asked. "The color's much better for you," Garak approved as he laid the brown suit on the bunk then turned to give Damar a professional study. "It looks as though it fits better as well." "The tunic, at least," Damar nodded, though he pulled at the neckline. "Tight in the neck?" Garak asked, moving closer to him. "The fabric itches," Damar grumbled. "It's made from woven hechtok hair," Garak told him, reaching out to feel around the neckline. "It does take some getting used to, though it's quite warm." "I don't know if being warm is worth this itching," Damar said, pulling the fabric away from his neck ridges. "Don't pull at it," Garak instructed. "You'll stretch out the shape." Going down on one knee, Garak examined the pants. Too long again, though a thing easily fixed. Garak ran his hand up Damar's thigh to the inseam, seeing that it needed to be taken in. The pants hung too loosely around his waist. Experimenting, Garak moved his hands to Damar's waist and cinched in the waistband then pulled up to shorten the inseam. He made a quick note of the problem areas and wished again for a measuring tool. The tunic seemed too long as well. Standing again, Garak said, "Hold your arms down at your sides." Damar did as he requested, standing straight and stiff. "Just as I thought," Garak nodded. "The sleeves are too long." "At least it doesn't feel tight," Damar said. Garak could see that. In spite of the fact that the suit was obviously made for a bigger man, it fit quite well across Damar's chest and shoulders. Damar started tugging at the neck again, and Garak fought off the urge to slap his hand away from it. "Don't pull at it," Garak insisted again. "If you don't like the fabric, it doesn't matter how well it fits." "I don't like the fabric," Damar said flatly. "A shame," Garak told him. "You look good in it. That color does wonders for your eyes." Damar seemed taken aback by that, as though not sure how to respond. He looked down at the tunic as if noticing the color for the first time. Not looking at Garak, he said, "I'll try on the last one," and moved to the bunk to pick up the third suit. Carrying it, he walked swiftly to the partition and disappeared around it. Busying himself with brushing the brown suit and placing it back into the garment bag, Garak waited for Damar to return. He felt a bit amused that he had fallen back into the role of a tailor. Years ago, it had surprised him how well tailoring had suited him. Working with fine and interesting fabrics had pleased him, and he found satisfaction in the creative effort of making garments. Still, what gratified him the most as a tailor was the opportunity it gave him to be close to another person. Just the simple act of fittings and alterations for his customers had helped to take the bitter edge off his constant loneliness. It was never enough, for while Garak hated loneliness, he also tended to hold people back and not allow them to become too close to him. Though he had made friends with many people on DS9, he supposed that if he had tried harder to open himself to them, his friendships would have deeper and more satisfying. Garak knew that it was, of course, the Cardassian way to be cautious and distrustful of others. He had been raised in a society where treachery and ruthless ambition for power over others had ruled supreme. Every Cardassian had grown up learning that no one around them was to be trusted except for those within their own families. It took a great deal of time and effort for a Cardassian to lower his guard and trust another person, and it was only done when the person proved himself unquestionably worthy of such trust. The effort of earning and proving trust was risky because it opened one to betrayal, a thing always taken personally in Cardassia. Yet the risk was often worth it. It led to forming bonds of friendships through earned trust held together by deep loyalty to one another. Garak hadn't felt the deep bond of friendship that earned trust could provide in a very long time. If ever, he thought sadly. He had a bond of friendship with Doctor Bashir who had seen Garak at his most vulnerable and who had willingly gave support to him. Garak had wished for more than friendship from him, a wish he had never expressed. Too often, the doctor was too judgmental towards Garak, his culture, and his past for him to risk inevitable rejection by opening himself more than he had to Bashir. Still, Bashir's company, while he had it, had made the dull existence of his exile a little more bearable. As did Odo's, though they didn't spend as much time together as Garak would have liked. It seemed that Odo recognized that he was just as lonely and just as exiled as Garak was, and that made an emotional connection between them. At least until Kira began to ease some of Odo's deep-seated loneliness. It was ironic to Garak that of all the people he had interacted with on the station, the one person he had opened to the most and had trusted the most had been Dukat's daughter. He still missed Ziyal. Her bright optimism sometimes had set his teeth on edge, but he had found her endearing. It was even more ironic to him that now he felt the bonds of friendship beginning to form with her murderer. Perhaps, Garak thought, it was because it was so obvious that Damar needed him. Damar needed emotional support and sound advice and a listening ear. He dreamed of great things and needed someone to give validation to those dreams. He carried the weight of their world on his shoulders, and he needed someone to help him carry the load. When his grief and regrets and the wounds of his past became too painful to bear and threatened to drag him down, he needed someone to uplift him again. There wasn't anyone to help fulfill those needs except for Garak, though Kira, in her own way, had begun to give the kind of emotional support Damar required as well. Through it all, Garak didn't mind doing anything necessary to help Damar. On the contrary, it had been years since Garak had felt needed by another person, and it felt good. Thinking about Damar again made Garak feel a flush over his ridges. Damar still needed him emotionally and now physically, and the idea of giving him what he needed made Garak's ridges swell in anticipation. After all, Garak had his own needs, ignored for longer than he had ever wanted. The occasional sexual encounter he had on the station had hardly been enough. Not when they were few and far between and with aliens and near strangers he had seduced just to have a fleeting moment of intimacy. The desire, the need, to feel a Cardassian again filled Garak with longing. To explore a Cardassian's ridges with his hands and mouth. To feel his scales grind against another's. To have Damar's generous mouth press against his . . . Garak took a sudden deep breath, his imaginings going too far. He may wish for such a thing to happen, but it wasn't likely, and Garak didn't believe in wasting time in foolish fantasies. When Damar stepped back around the partition, Garak's breath caught, his heart pounding with a ridiculous mixture of fear and guilt from imagining an intimate encounter with him. Ridiculous indeed, Garak lectured himself as he planted a smile on his face. He had nothing to be afraid of. He had nothing to feel guilty about. When Damar looked at him, the other man's expression grew tight and cautious. Then he looked away. "How do you like it?" Garak asked as he moved to stand before him once more, examining the fit of the third suit with a professional eye. "The fabric feels good," Damar reported, his eyes flicking to Garak's then flicking away. "Yes, mosset wool is quite comfortable," Garak commented, reaching out to feel the maroon colored fabric. At his touch, Damar pulled back. Garak smiled to hide his grimace. Damar had noticed his swollen neck ridges after all. "The pants are too long," Garak noted. "It feels all right in the shoulders." "Good," Garak nodded, going down on one knee again. When he took Damar by the waist, Damar immediately tensed. "Relax, Damar. This is only necessary for the fitting." "Is it?" he grumbled. Garak ignored that, pulling the loose fabric around Damar's waist, cinching up the front to see how much work he would need to do to make the pants fit better. Pulling the pants tighter around him, Garak saw the curve of Damar's pod pressing against the material and immediately wished he hadn't. So close to him, the mixture of the scent of the wool and Damar's body odor made a pleasing, enticing aroma. Garak stood again, seeing Damar's tense body and eyes fixed forward, his expression uncomfortable. Not wanting to increase his sudden discomfort, Garak walked around him to study how well the suit fit in the back. Lifting the hem of the jacket, Garak noted how loosely the pants hung from the back. He took the fabric of the waistband again and pulled it up. The pants would fit well with a little work. Letting go of the material, Garak laid his hands on Damar's back, smoothing the soft, sturdy fabric over his shoulders, feeling the tension still trapped within his muscles. Suddenly, Damar stepped away from him. "If you want me to make the adjustments I need to make," Garak said from behind him, "you need to allow this." Damar took in a sharp breath but said nothing. Shaking his head, Garak stepped around to face him. "You don't feel comfortable with me touching you," Garak said matter-of-factly. Damar's eyes flicked to his then down to Garak's neck ridges. "Perhaps you enjoy touching me too much." "Perhaps you're right," Garak confessed, embarrassed that his neck ridges had given him away. "You're not the only one who needs the touch of another person." Damar scowled, looking away again, though Garak took hope in his troubled expression. His people, so rigid and conservative, weren't very sexually open, and same sex relationships were strongly discouraged. Still, no matter how much it was looked down upon, sexual relations between men were actually quite common in Cardassia, though hidden from view as many of their people's passions often were. The idea of it wouldn't be anything new to Damar, and Garak had a suspicion that the act wouldn't be new to him either. "It has nothing to do with touch," Damar suddenly said, anger in his tone. With a quick movement, he pulled the tunic over his head and flung it to the ground. Garak gaped at him, watching the heavy muscles and smooth scales of his torso move as he stripped out of the pants, tossing them aside. Standing nude before him, angry and arrogant, Damar spread his hands. "All that touching when this is what you want. You want to see this." Feeling a bit threatened by his tone, Garak shook his head and said carefully, "You aren't showing me anything I haven't seen before. Am I supposed to be surprised, Damar, that you have a pod?" And what a pod. Garak tried very hard not to look at the large bundle of thick scales at the apex of Damar's thighs, but his eyes flicked down in spite of himself and felt his own thick scales shift as he admired it. Damar took a step closer and grabbed Garak by the wrist. Garak tried to pull back, but Damar jerked his hand up and against his chest. "This is what you want," he growled, pressing Garak's hand against Damar's smooth scales. "You don’t want fabric to get in the way, do you, Garak?" "What I want," Garak said in a firm, measured tone, "is for you to calm down. You're tense and frustrated. I want you to relax and if you're open to it, I can help you. But I'm not going force anything, and I'm certainly not going to respond to force. Let go of me." Damar immediately released him and stepped away. "You want to help me relax, do you?" "I know what your preferences are. However, I'm sure you're aware that sexual gratification isn't found just in women." "I've been with men," Damar growled, his tone still angry and with an under layer of pain. "But only when it was required. It isn't something that I seek." "I'm aware of that," Garak replied, disturbed by the implication of Damar's words. "I'm not going to force the issue. I merely want you to know that I can give you what you so obviously need." Garak's nerves gripped his belly, knowing that he was dangerously close to ruining the relationship they already had. The bonds of friendship had begun to form, but it was still in its infancy. They were both still learning how much they could trust one another, and suddenly this lesson in trust felt vital. Damar's eyes turned very cold, but at least he wasn't disgusted by Garak as so many of his people would be at his admission. "What is it that you expect to gain from this?" Damar asked, his tone as hard as ever, his eyes full of pain and caution. "Do you think that if I take you as a lover, that your place at my side would be assured? That you would be bonded to me stronger than we all ready are? If you think that, it's not necessary." Garak slowly shook his head, remembering once again that Damar's strong, hard veneer protected a wounded soul. How often had this man been abused in his life and by what many means? One means became clear in Damar's words and haunted caution. No doubt he was remembering a scenario of reversed roles, of a powerful man offering him protection and assured position in return for sexual favors. As it was so often behind the closed doors of Cardassia, undoubtedly as soon as the powerful man grew disinterested in his young lover, all promises of protection and position were stripped away. "I expect nothing from you, Damar," Garak said simply. Damar snorted with disbelief. "What will pleasuring me bring you? Satisfaction that you fucked the leader of Cardassia? Something to brag about? Or will it be something you will hold secret to use against me later?" Garak shifted on his feet. How typically Cardassian, he thought bitterly, angry that so often passion and the need for intimacy came at a heavy price among his people, saddened that Damar had such difficulty accepting that perhaps someone could desire him without ulterior motives. Not to gain power through him, or to use sexual intimacy against him, or to gain notoriety from an intimate encounter with a famous man. Had there never been anyone in Damar's life who had simply desired him for who he was? A strong, idealistic man of raw power and vitality, a man of hot-blooded temperament and emotional intensity never truly hidden by his hard facade. And not fully hidden now. Damar's eyes turned to blue ice as he took a sudden threatening step towards Garak. "Or is that you just want a taste of being with a Cardassian legend?" Damar asked with a heavy bitterness that surprised Garak. Garak knew that Damar felt uncomfortable with the burden his people had placed on him with their overly heightened belief in him, but he hadn't realized how deeply Damar hated it. Garak laughed, hoping to ease his mood. "Really, Damar, do you think that of me? I've seen how you eat. I've seen how you refuse to wipe your mouth with a napkin and use your hand instead. I've had to lie in that bunk next to you and try to sleep through your snoring. And when you're not snoring, you're tossing and turning. I've had to endure this annoying habit you have of constantly pacing day and night. Believe me, legend isn't the first thing I think of when I think of you." At that, Damar gave a rueful smile, then he suddenly twisted his head up and to the right, making a series of dull popping sounds down his neck ridges. "And that," Garak said, pointing at him. "What?" Damar demanded. "Ridge cracking," Garak said with exaggerated annoyance. "The sound of it makes my skin crawl." Damar's scowl returned. "You said it yourself, Garak. I'm tense. I pace when I'm tense, and I crack my ridges because everything feels tight in my neck and shoulder crest." "All the more reason to let me help you ease some of that tension." For a moment, Damar held him with his eyes, then he sank down on the edge of one of the bunks. "Well, don't expect me to reciprocate," Damar said coldly. He sat with his legs spread, still tense yet inviting, as though he expected Garak to just get on with it. His cold attitude gave Garak pause. Damar seemed to consider reciprocating to be degrading, and Garak felt disappointment. He wanted him to reciprocate. He wanted to feel Damar's full mouth on his lips and skin, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make Damar feel as degraded as he had no doubt felt in the past. But Garak brushed aside his disappointment because he knew that no matter what hard and cold barriers Damar put up, it wasn't who he was beneath his surface. Rather than accepting Damar's blatant invitation to plunge right in to his opening testicular pod, Garak moved around the bunk to stand behind him. Gentleness and understanding was called for, Garak knew. Such means rarely failed to work with Damar, a man, Garak suspected, who had received far too little gentleness and understanding in his life. Though Damar tensed further as Garak knelt on the bunk behind him, he remained still. Carefully, Garak laid his hands over Damar's shoulder crests. He could feel Damar's knotted tension in his back. Avoiding his neck-ridges, Garak began to massage his hardened muscles. "It doesn't surprise me that you've been hurt many, many times," Garak said softly. "You were once a prime candidate for abuse." Damar tensed even more at that. "Was I?" he grunted. "I can picture it quite well," Garak told him as he firmly rubbed Damar's back and shoulders. "A young soldier from a good but powerless family trying to make his ambitions come true in the military. A handsome, strong young man earning the admiration of his superiors, though disappointed that such admiration didn't come from his skills and talents but from his body and sexual energy. Powerful men deciding that to have such an energetic, eager-to-please youth in their beds would be worth some meaningless promises of protection and position. But all too soon, the powerful man grew tired of his young lover and tossed him aside only to have some other powerful man pick him back up again. And all the while, the young officer grew more and more frustrated with the continual breaking of promises and hurt that none loved him for himself but only used him for their own pleasures. In response, the young officer grew hard and rebellious and filled with anger." Damar's head lowered as Garak continued to knead his back, his hands working over the smooth scales while his eyes admired the patterns and structure of Damar's strong back. His voice soft yet pointed, Garak continued, "Angry because there was so much potential within that young man that none of his superiors noticed or cared enough about him to help him cultivate it. Angry because the young man had such noble beliefs in Cardassia and stirring ideals that no one around him lived up to, including himself." Garak firmly rubbed him, feeling the stubborn knots in his muscles, feeling sad for the tale he had just spun that pointed to the truth of Damar's past as a young man and the unhealed wounds he still bore from such treatment. Sad because one man's life revealed how many of their people had suffered from the corruption among the powerful and influential within their society. "I've read your military record," Garak told him. "The record of your life. Quite a lot can be read in between the words. I'm sure you know what the record says. It's actually a bit repetitious because all your superior officers seem to say the same things. Damar is a capable, resourceful officer who lacks proper discipline and discretion. For every accomplishment you made, there's a corresponding punishment. How often did you get punished for speaking your mind when you shouldn't have?" "Too often," Damar grumbled. "My mouth always got me in trouble." Garak chuckled. "In more ways than one, I imagine. Your superiors enjoyed your company, but they didn't like your defiant streak, even though that is one of your appeals. You had a tendency to question things and even to dare to question authority. You didn't hop to orders, and you said the wrong thing to the wrong person time and again." Damar only gave a bitter snort, the tension in his back hardly easing with Garak's efforts. "Lie down on your stomach," Garak instructed. Suspicious again, Damar asked, "Why?" "Your back muscles are in knots, and this would go better if you lay down. I told you, I only want to help you relax." "I would relax more if you would stop talking," Damar groused. "I know my history well enough. I don't need to it hear from you." Garak moved around to face Damar. "You were never considered a good officer by Cardassian military standards. Do you know why?" Grinding his teeth, Damar looked away, his hardness not hiding the pain in his eyes. Garak leaned closer. "Because you're a born rebel, Damar," he said, and Damar's eyes flicked back up to his. He looked confused, as though not sure whether he should consider this an insult or a compliment. "You've been struggling against the constraints of our military rule all of your life," Garak went on with his assessment. "You probably never realized that you were, yet it's clear in your record. Punishments for insubordination. Punishments for questioning orders. Punishments for bluntly speaking your mind. Punishments for what Gul Rodar called your defiant attitude to your superiors. That was how you, a very talented officer with enormous potential, ended up stuck on that broken down freighter. Gul Dukat wrote glowing things about you in your record. His fondness of you is obvious, and he appreciated your courage and steadfastness. But even he had commented on your tendency towards insubordination, and he had to discipline you for it quite often. Your record tells me that you have been rebelling against our military dictatorship for a very, very long time." Garak saw the light of comprehension come into Damar's eyes. All the things that he had been so ashamed of in his military record became things not shaming at all. They revealed, after all, who Damar truly was. A man who hated the severe constraints the military dictatorship had placed on him, yet too loyal and dedicated to ever consider breaking free of them. Instead, his frustrations and intolerance of the constraints led to passive-aggressive behaviors that caused him to be punished over and over. Damar studied Garak with clear blue eyes, softer now for the understanding of himself Garak had given him. "And you, Garak?" he asked quietly. "You're rebelling with me at my side. How long have you been rebelling in your own way against our State?" "Not nearly as long as you have been," Garak confessed, then gestured to the bunk. "Lie down." After a slight hesitancy, Damar complied, lying down on his stomach with his head resting against his forearms. Leaning over him, Garak continued the massage. "I'm not letting you off that easily," Damar said. "No, I didn't think that you would," Garak chuckled. "You were severely punished with exile. Even I was never punished so harshly. You must have done something rebellious to warrant it." "Rebellious," Garak said with a nod as he kneaded Damar's muscles. "It was seen that way and I suppose that it was. But I never strained at the constraints of our society as much as you did. Rather, I embraced them as a good, Cardassian citizen was supposed to do. Things happened that I disagreed with, but I rarely questioned anything. When I did, I did so with as much discretion as possible." "I can imagine," Damar commented with a tone of humor. "When I did question things," Garak went on, feeling an old, familiar pang of guilt, "I believed that there was something wrong with me. That what I was questioning wasn't wrong, but that I was wrong for my lack of acceptance. I told myself that my doubts were my fault, not the fault of the State." Damar suddenly shifted, twisting about to look at Garak with understanding. "I felt the same way," he said. Garak smiled with the sense of unity this provided him with Damar. "I suspect many Cardassians had the same problem. After all, we're taught that it's wrong to question anything that the Cardassian State does. If we do, it's a sign of our disloyalty." "Even when things that the Cardassian State did should have been questioned," Damar retorted with bitter anger. "We were all taught too well. At least, I was." "You loved Cardassia so deeply," Garak told him, "that you couldn't accept the wrongs we had done. It didn't fit your idealistic vision of Cardassia, so you turned a blind eye to it, even though, in your heart, you knew the truth." "I suppose that's true," Damar admitted softly as he lay back down. "How did you handle the truth of things?" "Oh, I was blind in my own way," Garak told him, bending over him again. "I was taught just as well as you were. I told myself that things that I thought were wrong really were for the best for Cardassia. For a long time, I didn't see anything wrong with our State at all. In fact, it wasn't until I was exiled that I began to understand the flaws within our State. I suppose that being separated from our people for so long allowed me to step back and see the true nature of things. When I began to help Starfleet, I told myself that it was for the best for Cardassia because I hated that our people had become enslaved by the Dominion. But I soon realized that fighting against the Dominion meant fighting against our people." "A difficult thing," Damar agreed sadly. "When I rebelled, I accepted the fact that my rebellion had be against the State as much as it was against the Dominion, since the Dominion controlled the State. But I hated the thought that I had to fight against our own people." "Though I noticed that it didn't take that much convincing from Kira to make you do it." "She merely forced me to accept what I wanted to deny. The military is our enemy as long as they serve the Dominion. I just wish that they would see that serving the Dominion isn't serving Cardassia as they think. Though it's my fault that they don't see it that way. After all, I had to give speech after speech to keep them all convinced that service to the Dominion was the best thing for us, even though I never completely believed that myself." "You gave them a speech that should have convinced them that resisting the Dominion was the best service for Cardassia. They just need to open their eyes to see it." "It took me two years to open my eyes," Damar said bitterly, "and that was probably because I was in a position to see things more clearly than others. Now they have another blind leader convincing them that the Dominion has our best interests at heart." "I think that more people in the military know that isn't true than you think. Over the past week, a good number of officers have abandoned their posts to join the underground resistance." "I hope that continues." "The propaganda from the underground should help." "Propaganda," Damar snorted. "I wish the underground would tone it down. The hyperbole of it all sets my teeth on edge." "That's only because the hyperbole is focused on you," Garak said with a smile. "I don't like it. The propaganda makes more of me than what I really am." "I don't think so," Garak said, leaning close to his ear. "I think they're being truthful." Damar shifted his head to glare at him. "Garak, you don't really buy into that legend nonsense of Kira's, do you?" "I hardly think it's nonsense." "Please, Garak. You're not a man to rose tint things, especially things about me." Garak laid his hand on Damar's head and stroked his thick, silky hair. "You have a very strange ego, Damar." "In what way?" "Many Cardassian egos would be puffed up and bloated by the idea that our people admired them so deeply," Garak said, still stroking his hair. "I'm pleased that hasn't happened to you, but you seem to be going in the opposite direction. I certainly hope you aren't becoming humble." Damar gave a laugh. "Never. I just don't want to be seen as something I'm not." "It is a frightening thing, I imagine," Garak said as his hands traveled back down Damar's back, feeling the other man's muscles loosen. "Having an entire population of people believe in you so much that they'd rather fantasize that you were still alive and fighting for their freedom than to accept the news that you were dead." "It's gratifying," Damar admitted. "How could it not be? I had to prove myself worthy of our people's leadership, and I'm pleased to know that I have. I wanted to be accepted by them, but I didn't expect that kind of admiration." "You didn't expect them to love you." "They don't love me," Damar insisted, twisting to look at Garak again, piercing him with the haunted pain in his eyes. "They don't know who I am. I've given them what they need. The inspiration to fight and the hope for a better Cardassia in the end. I know that’s all for the good and I can feel pride in that. But what they love is only their idealistic vision of who am I. They love a symbolic legend, not the man behind it. They don't love me." Garak swallowed at the bitterness in Damar's tone as he twisted away again. There was the pain of loneliness and loss in his bitterness that Garak understood all to well. He laid his hands on Damar's back again, kneading the muscles, admiring his form. Just the simple pleasure of feeling skin and scales beneath his hands filled Garak with a warm sense of relief and satisfaction. How he had missed this. His eyes moved down to Damar's taut rear-end, a perfectly formed ass so perfectly inviting. Just laying his hands on Damar's firm buttocks made Garak's pod shift open all the more. Unfortunately, at Garak's touch, Damar flinched, his cheeks immediately tightening. Knowing that Damar felt threatened, Garak lifted his hands away. "If you really want this," Garak said gently, "you need to let it happen. If you don't, I'll stop." For a moment, Damar remained silent, as though still trying to decide if he actually wanted Garak to pleasure him. Whether he wanted it or not, it was obvious to Garak that he needed it. Finally, Damar said, "Go on." Garak laid his hands on Damar's buttocks again and, very gently at first, began to knead him, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the mixture of his flesh and muscle. Damar's tension seemed to ebb as Garak squeezed and kneaded his buttocks a little more then a little more firmly. Sliding his thumbs over the curves of Damar's cheeks, he slipped one thumb down into the crack and rubbed against Damar's anus. Damar's muscles constricted so hard and quickly that he nearly trapped Garak's thumb in the crack. "Don't," Damar snapped and Garak immediately pulled back. Cautious again, Garak continued his massage, kneading and squeezing and rubbing Damar's buttocks and back and shoulders. After a while, Damar settled down and soft moans escaped him. Feeling that Damar had relaxed enough, Garak moved his hands up to Damar's neck-ridges and gave them a firm rub. Damar shivered with pleasure and gave a slight, breathy moan. Garak pinched and rubbed the sensitive ridges, firmly enough to give him arousing pleasure, not so firmly as to cause him pain. Garak felt tempted to lower his head over the ridges and suck and bite at them, but he wasn't sure how Damar would react to that. He seemed too skittish about allowing Garak to become too intimate with him, and to bite and suck at his neck-ridges was as intimate as a kiss to his people. So instead, Garak used his skillful hands, pleased to hear Damar's soft moans and to feel his ridges swell in response to his ministrations. When Damar began to gasp, he suddenly shifted, twisting around. The sight of Damar's opening pod, where his thick penis began to blossom out from the mass of plumb, glandular scales encasing it, caused Garak's pod to open even more, his scales pulling back and rubbing against the fabric of his pants. As though not willing to be in a subservient position, vulnerable on his back, Damar swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed again. His legs spread, he looked at Garak with expectation, and this time with a little less coldness. Garak acquiesced, moving around to kneel between Damar's legs, his eyes fastened on Damar's opening pod. Reaching out, he took one of the scales between his thumb and fingers and gave it a teasing squeeze. Dark gray and firm on the outside, his testicular scales were plumb and yielding like the leaves of a succulent plant and nearly pearl white on the inside. As Garak rubbed and squeezed the scales, they continued to pull back by the power of involuntary muscles and the thickening of Damar's glands. Garak's own scales continued to pull back as well, especially as Damar's musky scent filled Garak's nostrils. Again, he felt the impulse to lick and bite at the soft, pump scales and encourage them to fully open. Within the mass of moving scales, Damar's penis thickened and finally became engorged enough to become erect, a dark gray, throbbing shaft standing firm among the white, open scales. Garak grasped hold of Damar's cock. Of average length, not long, not short, his penis was quite thick and grew even thicker and harder under Garak's hand, Damar's ridges straining under the skin. He gave it a good squeeze that caused Damar to jerk a bit, then he ran his hand down its length to the end. Rubbing his finger against the cleft tip made Damar quiver, and he let out another breathy moan. With one hand, Garak continued to massage Damar's scales, while the other played with his tip, squeezing and teasing, and Damar's breath quickened. Pre-ejaculation cum pearled on the tip, and Garak continued to encourage more to come dribbling out over his fingers. His fingers slick with the fluid, he rubbed them down Damar's cock then gave him a firm jerk that made Damar yelp. Up and down and with a twisting motion, Garak slid his hand firmly over Damar's slick shaft, feeling his ridges bump along his palm, feeling the throbbing in Damar's penis that matched his racing heartbeat. Damar panted as Garak worked him, and Garak could tell that he was nearly ready. Bending closer, his hand left Damar's scales to grip his muscular thigh. He snaked his head forward and licked the tip of Damar's penis. Damar shuddered and suddenly pulled his legs closer together around Garak's torso. Savoring the slightly salty taste, Garak licked around Damar's tip then ran his tongue firmly along the backside of the erect penis. Damar's legs tensed, nearly squeezing Garak between them, eager for him to get on with it. Garak complied. Sinking his mouth down over Damar's cock, Garak took as much of him in as he could and sucked hard. Letting out a shuddering moan, Damar suddenly grabbed Garak by the back of his head then thrust his hips forward until his penis was down Garak's throat, and his plumb scales rubbed against Garak's chin and nose. Garak pulled him out of his mouth, letting his tongue lightly rub against Damar's ridges that made him jerk and moan louder, then he brought him all into his mouth again. In and out, sucking deeply, with Damar encouraging him with his rough hand and thrusting hips. Damar's panting breath turned into gasps then growls of ecstasy, and his hand on Garak's head began to shake. Tremors shook Damar's entire body, and finally he thrust deep into Garak's mouth and released himself, his heated juice pumping down Garak's throat so thickly and copiously that he nearly gagged from trying to swallow it all. Cum spilled out of his mouth, around Damar's penis and over his scales. Gasping for breath and still shaking from his orgasm, Damar pulled out of Garak's mouth and fell back against his elbows. Then he looked at Garak with unfocused eyes. Lifting himself back up, he curled forward and grabbed Garak by the neck. To his astonishment, Damar sank his lush mouth down against Garak's mouth, his tongue probing deeply, his lips firm against Garak's, his saliva mixing with the semen still coating Garak's mouth. The taste of Damar was rapturous, and when the kiss ended and he drew back, Garak felt a bit dizzy. He had never been kissed quite so earnestly before. Damar was clearly in the haze of pleasure, and Garak keenly desired to feel the same. With a firm hand, Damar stroked his cheek ridges then ran his fingers over Garak's eye ridges and squeezed with enough roughness to give him jolts of pleasure. Garak smiled at Damar's ministrations, pleased that his feelings about his leader proved correct yet again. Damar had said he wouldn't reciprocate, acting as though he would be satisfied with allowing Garak to pleasure him without feeling the need to give pleasure back. But for all of his hardness, Garak knew Damar was more thoughtful than he let on, more considerate than perhaps he realized. Still kneeling before him, Garak took pleasure in Damar's massage of his eye ridges and took even further pleasure when Damar leaned closer to lick and bite at them. Then Damar pulled back and took Garak by the shoulders. He stood, encouraging Garak to stand with him. Silently, Damar ran his hands down over Garak's torso to the edges of his tunic then jerked it up. Excitement thudded through Garak as he helped Damar undress him, pulling off his shirt, taking off his pants. Excitement and a bit of hesitancy that Garak hoped Damar didn't notice. For while Damar, with his generous mouth and intense eyes, his broad shoulders and the beautifully arranged scales over his muscular chest and abdomen, would be considered by many a fine example of Cardassian masculine beauty, Garak had no such luxury with his own soft and aging body. But if it bothered Damar that Garak lacked the same masculine beauty, he didn't show it. On the contrary, Damar pressed against him, lifting his mouth up to Garak's for another long and probing kiss, all the while kneading Garak's soft flesh with his hands. In their embrace, Damar lifted his chin to move his mouth over Garak's neck ridges, biting and sucking at them with such enthusiasm that Garak moaned with pleasure. Locked together, Damar rubbed his still hard penis against Garak's opening pod, encouraging Garak's scales to fall fully open and his erection to rub against Damar's. Garak shivered, feeling Damar's firm body and firm shaft against him. Still silent, speaking only with his expressive eyes, Damar pulled away and took Garak's arm to encourage him down onto the bunk. They lay together, Damar twining his legs around Garak's, kissing him again to Garak's delight. Clearly, Damar enjoyed kissing, and Garak enjoyed being on the receiving end of such complete attention. Leaving Garak's mouth, Damar trailed kisses down his ridged chin then curled over Garak's breast and bit and sucked at his left nipple and massaged Garak's soft flesh and smooth scales. Damar slid down Garak's abdomen to his open pod. There, he licked and bit at Garak's plumb glandular scales, and Garak thought that he hadn't experienced such delightful foreplay in a long time. Damar's silence bothered him, and Garak nearly broke the silence several times while Damar teased and encouraged him into utter arousal with his soft, wet mouth and strong, firm hands. Garak was used to talk during sex, whether with male or female, exchanging sweet nothings or light-hearted banter or teasing insults. Damar did none of that, and Garak felt uncomfortable with trying to talk during this. For while Damar seemed to enjoy the effort, he also seemed very, very serious. Too serious. Damar's ministrations drove that distracting thought out of Garak's mind as he grasped Garak's erect cock and squeezed it hard. Garak bucked with the jolt of pleasure and anticipation that gave him. Then, one by one, Damar ran his fingers over each of Garak's penile ridges, squeezing them lightly in turn, while Garak felt himself harden further and gave shuddering gasps from the exquisite throbbing within him. The build up of pressure made his head swim, and when Damar sank his mouth over Garak's penis, the heat of his mouth and the wetness nearly sent him over the edge. Damar's lips slid over Garak's cock, and he sucked hard, in and out, and Garak quivered with ecstasy. Damar pulled away just as Garak almost came. He felt a pang of disappointment, but that quickly fled as Damar squeezed his tip again as though milking for pre-cum. He took the juice and spread it over Garak's erect shaft. Then he shifted on the bunk, turning on all fours until his ass was to Garak's face in silent invitation. Lifting himself up, Garak moved to press against his back. Knowing that while many found this kind of lovemaking intensely pleasurable, others did not, he asked, "Damar, are you sure?" Damar didn't answer, disturbing Garak. Was this how Damar was used to experiencing sex with men? Giving himself to their pleasure, presenting himself as an object for their enjoyment, expecting his own desires and preferences to be disregarded? Through it all, Garak kept in mind that Damar's preference was women, and he wasn't about to do something that Damar didn't want done to him. "Damar?" Garak tried again as he leaned against Damar's back. "I'm not going to do this if you don't want it." "Go on, Garak," Damar said in a rough voice. "I'm not a porcelain doll." No, thought Garak, only a man with a porcelain heart broken too often. Garak shifted against him, his erection against Damar's taut rear giving him a spasm of pleasure far too intense to ignore. He was too close to release to stop now, but he forced himself. Slipping around Damar's body, Garak positioned himself to reach out and stroke Damar's loosened hair again. "I'm not going to do anything to you that you don't want done to yourself," Garak repeated, firmly and gently. "I don't mind," Damar muttered. "That's not the right answer." "What answer are you expecting? You want this, Garak, and I'm allowing it." "Another wrong answer." Damar let out a harsh sigh and tossed his head away from Garak's hand, yet stubbornly remained on all fours. "What I want," Damar said with a wounded dignity, "is for you to enjoy yourself. You've pleasured me and I've decided to reciprocate after all. You want this and I want you to do what you want. I don't know why you're so worried about it." With a sigh, Garak slid back to position himself in front of Damar's rear. Reaching forward, Garak probed his anus with his fingers, massaging around it, feeling it constrict then relax. He slipped one finger into Damar and rubbed him. Damar grunted. Garak took it further, slipping in two fingers then forcing in a third, making him ready. Holding onto Damar's hip with one hand, Garak eased the tip of his throbbing shaft into him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly entered and felt Damar tense under him. The deeper he went, the more tremors shook his body, the incredible heat inside Damar, the incredible tightness, sent Garak into rapture. Damar cried out in pain and his sphincter tightened around Garak. The ecstasy intensified and Garak's breath became harsh gasps. Nearly unable to contain himself, Garak thrust as deep as he could until his glandular scales pressed against Damar's buttocks. Then Garak pulled out and thrust again and again, the heat and tightness giving him paroxysms of bliss. All while Damar's muscles constantly constricted around him, and Damar grunted again and again. The pressure built until Garak could no longer stand it. With one final thrust, Garak released himself in a spasm that caused his entire body to quake. Cum pumped out of him again and again, the orgasm going on and on within the heat and tightness of Damar's body. The sheer bliss of it made Garak light-headed. Gasping for breath and spent, Garak pulled out, his body quivering with after shocks. He flopped down on the bunk and Damar slipped down beside him. His face tense with lingering pain, Damar said, "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" "Why?" Garak asked, still trying to catch his breath. "You didn't want that, so why did you let me?" "I never said that I didn't want it," Damar corrected. "I know how pleasurable it is for my partner, so I don't mind it. All that matters is that you enjoyed it." Twisting to lay on his side to face him, Garak lifted his hand to caress Damar's cheek. "I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it immensely. I'm still enjoying it. I haven't felt such incredible ecstasy in a very long time." "Good," Damar nodded. "And now, it's your turn," Garak said. "You're not finished yet." Damar looked down at his still partially erect penis. "I can take care of that." "Why should you when you have me?" Garak asked, reaching down to grasp Damar's cock. "This was supposed to be about pleasuring you. Or have you forgotten that?" Garak slid his hand down Damar's cock, feeling it thicken again, and Damar gave a spasm of pleasure. "I haven't," he said roughly. Still holding him, Garak snaked his head forward to kiss Damar with gentle passion. "You're a very generous lover, Damar," Garak told him as he caressed his penis. "Esorel," Damar corrected. Garak smiled. "Elim," he said, then shifted down to lower his mouth over Damar's shaft. Finding pleasure in Damar's taste, Garak sucked him and teased him and ran his tongue lightly against his ridges. Damar responded by bucking again, his breath turning harsh and his hips thrusting in his attempt to make Garak take all of him into his mouth. Damar's penis throbbed and grew hot and immensely stiff. Taking him out of his mouth, Garak did what Damar had done, lubricating him with his own juices. Then he shifted on the bunk, going on all fours. "I know that it isn't as beautiful as yours," Garak quipped as he presented his ass to Damar. Damar gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I've seen worse." "I can imagine." "Elim, this really isn't necessary." "I suppose not, but it is there for the taking, regardless of its sorry shape." "I'm more than satisfied with just your mouth." "Go on, Esorel. I'm not a porcelain doll." "If you . . . if you really want this." "I do. I want to feel you inside of me." Garak heard more than saw Damar shift on the bunk, and then he felt Damar's strong body and stiff erection press against him from behind. Damar massaged him as Garak had done, his fingers probing and rubbing and sending spasms of pleasure and anticipation through Garak. Then he placed his hands firmly on Garak's hips. "Not this way," he said, encouraging Garak to roll over on his back. He crawled up over Garak then lifted Garak's legs up, holding onto his thighs with his strong arms. Garak embraced Damar's torso with his knees. Wiping pre-ejaculation cum off the tip of his penis, he spread the warm juice over Garak's rosebud hole. Garak tingled with excitement as Damar positioned himself. Looking him in the eye, Damar entered him, at first slowly, teasingly, then with a sudden thrust that made Garak cry out in pain, feeling all of Damar's immense thickness inside of him, pressing into him with an incredible pressure that hovered on the threshold between pain and pleasure. Damar grunted then pulled out to thrust again, his breath becoming heavy, his growls deepening, his face contorted in utter ecstasy. Each time Damar's thick shaft thrust past just the right area, Garak's body shuddered, and he grasped with the immeasurable pleasure this caused deep within him. Garak felt the trembling of Damar's body pressed against him. With wonderful vigor, Damar thrust and pulled back and thrust again, growling with ecstasy. His hair flew about his face, and his eyes turned heated and wild with passion. As he pounded into Garak, he reached down and grasped Garak's long erect shaft, rubbing and jerking him into an orgasmic rapture so intense that Garak lost all control. His ejaculation pumped out of him, spraying Damar's chest and mouth. With a grin, Damar licked it off his lips without stopping his continual thrusting. Shaking with orgasmic bliss, Damar pumped into Garak, ejaculating his thick, hot fluid. Damar convulsed again and again, and his copious cum poured out of Garak and over his thick scales. With a long, luxurious moan, Damar pulled out of Garak, his breath heavy and his face full of bliss as he flopped down on the bunk. Spasms wracked him for several moments until he suddenly relaxed with a sigh. Breathing heavily as well, Garak curled up next to him, ignoring for the moment the sticky mess they had made on the bed. Damar reached out and pulled Garak into an embrace so deep and solid that Garak could hardly breathe. Silently and for a long moment, Damar held onto him as though clinging to him. Still hazy with pleasure, Garak twisted around to lie on his side, looking at Damar's open, handsome face, pleased to see him in such a state of blissful relaxation. Softly, Garak asked, "When you said that this wasn't necessary to bond us stronger together, what did you mean by that?" Damar grimaced at that. "I suppose I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have been so distrustful." "Your distrust is understandable. You didn't want to be used again." "Everyone has ulterior motives," Damar said softly, looking away from him. "Everyone." "Oh, yes. I had ulterior motives and they were fulfilled." Distrust came back into Damar's face. "Did they?" he grunted. "You mean beyond having some of the best sex I've ever had in my life?" Garak asked in a teasing tone. Damar responded as he had hoped. Pride flashed in his eyes, and his cocky grin made a welcomed appearance. "Yes, besides that," he said. "I did it for that," Garak said, pointing at Damar's face. "I did it to relax you and to see you smile again. Damar's smile broadened. "You're a good friend, Elim. I feel a great affection for you. You're one of the wisest men I've ever known, and you're one of the most loyal Cardassians I've ever met. You've always been a patriot. Always. For a long time, I didn't realize that, but I know it now and I respect you a great deal because of it." Warmth spread through Garak's heart, feeling rewarded for his years of working against the Dominion by these simple, heart-felt words of his leader. Yet again, Damar had stirred him. "Thank you," he said. "I value your advice, and I don't ever want to lose you from my side." "I'm glad," Garak said sincerely. "I don't want to ever leave your side. You've made me dream again, Esorel. You've made me hope for things that I once thought were foolish fancies." "This wasn't necessary to bond us closer because I already feel bonded to you through our camaraderie. Maybe this has made us closer. I don't know. You don't want to be hurt again, either. Is there a danger of that, Elim? I mean, nothing's changed between us, has it?" Garak smiled. Of course this had changed things between them, but not in the way Damar seemed worried about. "No," Garak said. "Nothing's changed except perhaps we understand each other more deeply." "Good," Damar said, looking increasingly uncomfortable again. "I don't want this to . . . I just don't want to hurt you." "That's not going to happen." "Still, I . . ." Damar sighed, looking a bit helpless. "I don't know how to say this without it sounding bad, Elim. Being with you was very pleasurable, but I still . . . that is, I don't . . ." Garak stopped him by placing his hand on his shoulder. "I understand, Esorel." Damar settled down at that. "All right." "We need to get up." Letting out a long, relaxed groan, Damar said, "I don't want to move." Garak shared the feeling. "I'm afraid that you'll have to. This mess will need to be cleaned up before Kira returns." At that, Damar laughed. "I forgot about her. What if she came in while we were at it?" Sitting up, Garak said, "I'd hate to imagine it." Looking down at Damar relaxed on the bunk, he noted that Damar's neck ridges had flushed at the thought. "Esorel," Garak admonished him as he stood, "take that thought out of your head." Damar only closed his eyes and smiled, his ridges still dark. Rolling his eyes, Garak knew that not only was Damar imagining Kira coming upon them in the midst of their sexual tryst, but that she would join them as well. "You're incorrigible," Garak informed him good-humoredly. "Now, go rest on the other bunk. I'll take care of this." With another groan, Damar got up and stretched. As Garak pulled the sheets off the bunk, Damar shambled over to pick up the maroon suit from the floor. Examining the suit, Damar asked, "This was a gift?" "Yes," Garak replied, bundling up the soiled sheets. Damar looked touched. "I don't remember the last time someone gave me a gift," he said softly. "The benefactor?" "Lady Ristan," Garak told him, and Damar's expression turned immediately sad. "Her husband . . . " Damar whispered in a grief-stricken tone as he stared at the suit in his hands. "I know," Garak said gently, remembering Gul Ristan: stern and proud and willing to risk all to fight at Damar's side in the rebellion that had taken his life. "Lady Ristan," Damar said, his voice troubled. "She doesn't blame me for her husband's death?" "Of course she doesn't." Garak set down the sheets to go to Damar's side. "She knows that her husband died a patriot. All of the men in the rebellion did. Don't take their deaths on your shoulders, Esorel." The expression of guilt and grief faded from Damar's face as he turned resolute. "They were all patriots. They all loved Cardassia and none of them will be forgotten." "No, they won't," Garak agreed, taking Damar's shoulder in encouragement. Lifting up the suit bundled in his hands, Damar said, "I like this one the best," "A good choice," Garak approved. "You'll have to put it on again so that I can finish the fitting." "I don't think so," Damar said with a grin. "I've had enough of your fitting sessions for one day." Then his eyes grew mischievous. "How about another fitting session tomorrow?" END [ main page || basics || pairings || list || tales || disclaimer || links ] |