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rileysroleplayingephemera · 6 years ago

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Soooo... in the RP I’m currently in, all the PCs have fallen for this one (awesome) NPC, to a greater or lesser extent. Also, I would totally be on board for him to have a side romance with another NPC (not a specific one, just, I’d be down for that. Mohammed is eminently shipable).

Also, we found out in the last session that he’s literally a millionaire doctor with huge emotional issues (well, we knew some of that already) which makes him a literal Harlequin Presents hero.

Anyway, I have no chill, so I made THESE.

Bonus: My character with his husband

Yes, they’re all supposed to be this horrible.

Fake romance novel summaries under the cut, because I am steadily losing the ~negative 50 chill I have.

Sheikh’s Desert Duty

A fake mistress... in a very real predicament!

Pamela Martel is used to changing her identity to suit herself and keep the authorities off her trail, but high society is not a place she’s comfortable. High heels and evening gowns don’t exactly scream ‘rebel, rebel’. But she’s not sending another man she loves into the lion’s den alone.

Mohammed Bashir might not be at ease in this world, but he’s a lot more familiar with it than she is. His father’s reputation can get them in - but it can’t keep their enemies’ watchful eyes off Mohammed. He knows Pam is the only way to get the information they need... but he also knows they can’t afford any distractions.

But as the situation grows steadily more precarious, and Pam and Mohammed are forced to depend on each other for more than backup, it becomes clear that one thing neither of planned for was their hearts.

“...immensely satisfying...” - theringer.com

Desert Affair

She’s far from home... and trapped in Paradise!

Kaelyn Howard never planned to get swept up in world events - but now she’s targeted by terrorists and on the run from the law, trying desperately to stay alive, get out of the country... and reconnect with the daughter she never knew.

With fellow fugitive Mohammed Bashir, Kit is forced to flee the United States - running straight to his father’s luxurious empire. But there’s more to reckon with than their enemies - there’s her painful history, her complicated feelings, and Mohammed’s dark and mysterious past - which may put them all in even more danger...

“...pretty adorable.” - @theserpentsadvocate

The Sheikh Doctor’s Bride (First Edition)

Never back down...

Pam Martel is stranded.

After everything she’s done in the last few years, the United States finally has a valid excuse to throw her in jail. She can’t even go home to Canada without being extradited. Given everything she’s done to stop a terrorist cult - and the fact that her friends are going back to their old lives while she’s trapped in the Emirates - the rest of her life looks both bitter and bleak.

Mohammed Bashir is the one bright spot in her awful situation, but he’s not without his own troubles. Without a wife, he’s in danger of losing his father’s comprehensive business empire. After all he’s been through, Mohammed is on the point of giving up and going back to the one thing he can still fall back on - medicine. But there’s no way Pam is going to let that happen to the one person who hasn’t abandoned her.

Maybe she should have thought before she made the offer, but there are worse things than being married to stunningly handsome millionaire doctor. If only she wasn’t in love with him...

“OMG.” - @natalie-is-my-name

Be Loved

The only way forward... is together

In the years since they’ve last seen each other, things have changed a lot for Reuven Svobodya and Mohammed Bashir... but some things are still far too similar.

Mohammed has done a lot of soul-searching in the interim, and it’s pretty certain now that he’s not as straight as he once thought, but coming face to face with the man who prompted that realization still isn’t something he would have chosen. Some friendships are better left unrevived, especially when one of you can’t be honest. And then there’s the fact Mohammed is sure that Reuven still blames him for the loss of his family - after all, he blames himself.

It’s been a long time since Reuven decided to cut everyone important out of his life - any more hurt would have been impossible to take. Making a completely new life for himself was the only way to survive the crushing weight of what happened. But being near someone he once cared about is making him question that for the first time. And if he can forgive Mohammed, maybe he can finally forgive himself...

“[W]hen I've... started questioning my use of my limited time on this planet... this is what I'll remember.” - actual professional musician Luke Maynard

Christmas Bride for the Sheikh

Under the mistletoe... for two weeks!

Pam Martel was hoping to dodge the tiresome Christmas season and say hello to an old friend - she didn’t anticipate becoming his fake wife!

When Mohammed told a business associate he was engaged, the white lie was supposed to fend off the man’s overly amorous daughter; he never anticipated this! While being told his wife had arrived for the Christmas celebrations was a shock, Pam is the one person who might be able to pull off the deception - a good thing, since being caught out could ruin an important political connection for him.

Pam’s usually willing to roll with anything, but this is different. She’s carried a torch for Mohammed for years, and if there was ever a right time to make a play for him, this is it. She’ll be Mrs. Bashir, all right - and the act will be so realistic her ‘husband’ won’t know what hit him!

“Friends-to-lovers has never been more fun.” - soyouthinkyoucanwrite.com

The Harlot and the Sheikh

He gave her everything she wanted... except his heart.

Samar Naaji has been forced to do some awful things to survive. So has Mohammed Bashir. The difference is that while Samar is condemned by society, Mohammed is condemned only by himself.

In a chance encounter, Samar once saved Mohammed at great risk to herself, and while she doesn’t expect a hero to remember someone like her, she’s willing to try anything to get her sister the medical care she so desperately needs.

The last thing she expects is to be whisked into a world of luxury while all her worries disappear. More comfortable scrubbing a floor than being waited on, Samar devotes herself to understanding her rescuer, and quickly finds that underneath his wealth and privilege is a deeply broken man.

All Samar wants is to make him understand how good he is... but by that time, will she be too captivated to survive without him?

“[You] should... lead with [this].” - @theserpentsadvocate

Every Move He Makes

To stay alive, they will have to learn to lean on each other.

Reuven Harel doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on, but he knows it isn’t good. Counting on someone else to get him through this is galling, but at the very least he’s sure Mohammed is more trustworthy than the multitudes of people shooting at them. The truth is, the other man is the only thing keeping them both alive.

Mohammed Bashir knows exactly what’s going on, but he’s pretty sure he’s starting to fracture around the edges. The man he’s chosen to protect might be utterly in the dark, but Mohammed envies him his rock-solid sense of self. In fact, he’s starting to think that Reuven might be the only thing keeping him sane.

As their enemies grow and the body count rises, the two men must turn to each other for what they can’t find anywhere else: safety, surety... and maybe even love.

“What is even happening right now?” - @whimzhbeeaffairs (Also Reuven, probably.)

The Sheikh Doctor’s Bride (Second Edition)

One condemned by her crimes, the other by his past... but can they save each other?

After breaking the law to stay alive, Kit Howard is facing extradition back to the United States. The only way to stay free is to remain in Saudi Arabia... married to a citizen. After the wreckage of her first horrific marriage, she balks at the restrictions that come with it.

The tumultuous events that brought them together have left their mark on Mohammed Bashir. Before he goes back to his old life, he’s willing to make one final sacrifice to keep Kit safe - but after the loss of his father and brothers, getting attached seems almost fatally foolish.

Neither Kit nor Mohammed wants anything more out of this marriage than necessary... but somehow that’s all too easy to forget when they’re together. At least, as good friends and nothing more, nobody’s heart will get broken...

“OMG.” - @whimzhbeeaffairs

Dancing With the Tide

The greatest risk... is love

Mohammed Bashir’s purpose is to protect people more important than himself, people who can make a difference. Right now, that person is Reuven Harel. As the illegitimate son of an influential American politician, he might have leverage; as one of the prophesied Lightbringers, he has an unknown amount of power - but even if it’s all a myth, his simply staying alive is vital to Mohammed’s cause. He’s also a genuinely good person - not the worst man in the world to take a bullet for, if it comes down to it.

Reuven doesn’t believe in a bunch of supernatural bullshit, but he does believe in fulfilling his obligations. As far as he’s concerned, Mohammed is an innocent civilian being targeted by terrorists - and the American government - and it’s Reuven’s responsibility as a police officer to keep him safe. That he’s kind, handsome, and unfairly charming is irrelevant.

At first, the only thing the two men can agree on is that they want the other safe - but when things take a dark turn, they find common ground in other ways. When they’re forced to take refuge in a part of the world where their growing feelings could be punished by death, things threaten to burn out of control. If they want to avoid losing each other, they’re going to have to risk their hearts...

“My word.” - Luke Maynard, literal published author

Be True

They’ve been friends for years, but who knows what’s hiding beneath the surface…

Reuven Harel has always known who he is and what he wanted.

Sure, he’s gone from being the loud, angry, openly gay teenager at marriage equality rallies to an equally out RCMP officer, but he’s still loud, still proud, and still determined to change the world for the better. Unfortunately, being between serious relationships brings it home that he’s also still hung up on a too-good-to-be-true college friend. It’s not worth jeopardizing their friendship – but now he knows Paul’s not straight, it’s even harder to let those feelings die.

Paul Svobodya lost the blueprint for his life a long time ago.

He likes teaching history, likes living in Halifax, and frankly he loves being a single dad. It’s a long way from teaching English in Alberta with a wife and 2.5 kids, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He never intended to be single at twenty-seven, newly out as bisexual, and supporting a mortgage and a five-year-old, but that’s how things shook down. Rocking the boat at this point seems like a bad idea, but with his last serious relationship over and one or two casual dates with men under his belt, it’s hard to keep on denying what he really wants…

“This is the purest and wholest thing.” - Luke Maynard

(All novel write-ups are technically and theoretically canon-compliant as of this writing, although I used Reuven’s birth name in EBHT and DWtT because using his married name felt squicky. Yes, I killed his husband in the other one. I literally murdered my own OTP. Jesus fuck. I don’t believe it either. And let’s not even think about Nat.)

Stay tuned for the harem anime and maybe a mockup of the more serious AU/novella idea I have where Paul sells Christmas trees.

Why am I like this.

#cattle crossing

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cyrelia-j · 7 years ago

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[Drabble] This Lesson Is... (Garak/Bashir/Parmak)

Thanks to @ladyvean for putting this idea in my head :P

From this original post HERE

Though not an official prompt, I kinda took i as such and so here we have:

OT3 "This slut is perfection"

Summary: Julian loves Parmak's accent and is especially enthused about Parmak deciding to learn English

It took Julian a while to notice. It may have even been months into his Cardassian linguistics studies, but once he noticed it, he couldn’t stop noticing it. The reason being was that it was in a word: adorable. He had first made the observation to Garak while they were sitting in the living room going over one of his more recent lessons. It was fascinating how his enhancements gave him a decided advantage in the field of medicine but didn’t quite gift those benefits to other areas: Languages being one of them. Well, perhaps he was able to retain vocabulary more easily but pronunciation and accents were a bit trickier than most things he’d tackled in his life. Garak still assured his “fragile augment ego” that his Kardasi like everything else was progressing at a marvelous rate.

“Does Kelas have an accent?”

Julian had asked the question in English, not quite sure if it was the sort of thing one would want others to notice. Garak had at first feigned ignorance, asking why Julian would think that. He even suggested that perhaps it was Julian mishearing or misunderstanding a word that he spoke. At first, Julian second guessed himself and let the subject drop. It wasn’t until he progressed a few more months along that he noticed that no, he was quite correct the first time. Parmak definitely had a distinct way of speaking that he’d never noticed before through the translator. They still relied on them for a great deal of communication but he was finding it less and less necessary than he had when he first arrived. He’d be quite happy getting rid of them all together, his Kardasi and Garak’s English narrowing in proficiency gap.

“Alright, I know I’m not imagining it now, he definitely has an accent.”

Julian made this assertion to Garak’s pained expression in response. Upon seeing that expression, Julian wasn’t sure that he really ought to press the matter. It didn’t take a genius to realize that certain cultures, certain languages, accents, faced all sorts of ridicule and censure across the galaxy. So he cleared his throat, sparing a glance down the hall before lowering his voice just a touch.

“If he’d rather I didn’t say anything about it I won’t I just-”

“He’s from Nokar,” Garak said with a shrug as if that should explain everything well enough. Unlike his usual penchant for conversation, he seemed little inclined to elaborate further, and when Parmak returned with a brilliant cold concoction of lemonade made with local sunberries that had a similar taste to tart raspberries, Julian decided he’d just have to look into it on his own.

Garak can be protective when it comes to Parmak though it’s hardly warranted. Parmak is far more resilient than Garak gives him credit for at times and it’s Parmak himself who volunteers the rather ignorant stigma of “Northerners” - that is those hailing from Nokar and Kraness - as being less civilized and cultured. Having lived with both Parmak and Garak since his settling on Cardassia Prime, Julian couldn’t think of a stupider sentiment but Parmak lets him know that he’s long grown used to it and as such tries to hide it as best as he can when he speaks. It’s then that Julian tells him he noticed it because he finds it charming. Parmak’s words have a melody to them. They flow together like a warm current and now that Julian can listen to him without the translator he can appreciate the faint “tsu” when he says “tud”, the extra run together of words, the “sya’s” and “kya’s” and sometimes - much to a bit of Garak’s jealousy - he’ll ask if Parmak won’t mind reading to him out of one of the older epic odes Garak’s always banging on about.

Garak complains that Julian doesn’t have a care for the art otherwise but he doesn’t quite know how to explain that listening to Parmak read at times allows him to close his eyes and remember once when he’d had a chance to hear a live reading from the Quran. The words had a similar music to them, but Parmak’s voice is softer, a little higher in pitch and Julian really does love his natural voice without the filter. He explained it to Garak as best as he could in Kardasi before having to switch back to English, finding with a bit of poorly concealed fondness under Garak’s token indignation admitting that he too was quite enchanted with Parmak’s voice. “Of course that’s not to say that I don’t adore your cultured cadence speaking filthy things to me all enunciated and sexy,” Julian had assured him. There are also times when in a certain mood a particular whisper or speak of Julian’s name with that accent will makes his toes curl and his breath pick up. Parmak says his name with an extra affected syllable- a soft “Jiu-lian” that makes him dying to hear other things he might say in English.

Parmak is bemused but he decides it would be a fun adventure to learn English as well.

As far as Julian knows Parmak doesn’t have any special genetic gifts or enhancements. As a matter of fact, he told Julian a short time after their initial acquaintance that his white hair and stoop weren’t the result of age - though it turned out at a hundred and ten he was older than Julian had imagined - but rather congenital as were the slight pink of his eyes and faint violet tint to his skin, and his poor eyesight. Another uneducated Northerner slander was the accusation of inbreeding and those traits have never done him any favors in that assumption either. Parmak was sure if he hadn’t been fostered by an old respected Southern doctor he may very well have never been able to become a doctor himself. But his mind, Julian found was as sharp and quick a study as anyone he’d encountered in his field, Parmak sometimes making jumps in his thought train that astounded even Julian. He isn’t sure how well that will translate to languages but Julian observes over the course of the next few weeks that it goes quite well.

“This is a table. That is a window.” It doesn’t take him too long to pronounce simple sentences, though his accent is far stronger than Garak’s. Julian can tell the Nokaran influence is much more difficult to account for in the foreign tongue where Parmak isn’t sure what corrections need to be made. It sounds more like he says “Zis-es a tabel. Zat-es a windsoe.” Julian is sure that it’s some poor reflection of his character that he finds Parmak’s accent darling, watching him study carefully bent over a PADD each night, pushing his slipping spectacles up his face. Garak has taken to helping him practice as well, though Julian notices that their practices often divulge into heated hissing contests and inevitably a delay in dinner which Julian hardly objects to being treated to - an occasionally invited to join in - a rather heated show and Garak sandwich.

“This rug is red. This flower is yellow.”

“This soup is warm. That glass is cool.”

Julian often comes into the living room to find Parmak looking for things to describe during his lessons and always delights in thinking of new ways to describe him and Garak.

“This boy is sweet,” he says to Julian making him grin dumbly.

“This man is handsome,” he says to Garak who smiles in turn and compliments his good taste. Julian asks why he’s a boy and Garak is a man when Parmak gives him one of those sweet but naughty little Parmak smiles and pushes his glasses back up on his face. Garak raises his PADD a little higher to hide the smirk.

“You’re incorrigible, both of you,” Julian declares, sitting next to Parmak on the sofa with a huff.

“Then don’t encourage me!” Parmak exclaims quite pleased with the rejoinder Garak has taught him. Julian resists the queen mother of all eye rolls as Garak makes some suspicious snerk from behind the PADD once more.

“Ha,” Julian says rubbing his forehead against Parmak’s shoulder. “So has Garak taught you any other useful phrases?” Julian asks in English, not sure if that’s too complex for Parmak to understand.

He thinks a moment before sighing and answering in Kardasi.

“No, but I have been picking up a few things on my own from some of our human colleagues.” Julian isn’t sure whether or not to be intrigued or concerned as Parmak clears his throat and sits up a bit indicating Garak proudly.

“This slut,” he declares beaming at Garak like the sun itself, “is perfection.”

Julian and Garak meet eyes in that moment and war silently over who gets the unenviable tasks of correcting him.

In the end they decide to just leave it alone; Julian officially being “sweet boy” and Garak being “perfect slut”.

#star trek ds9 #star trek deep space nine #ds9 fanfic #ot3 #Garak/Bashir/Parmak #Julian Bashir #Kelas Parmak #Elim Garak #fluff #random drabble #Parmak is too cute #fanfic #cyrelia-j

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cyrelia-j · 7 years ago

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[Fic] Deuces VI: Billion Dollar Hand (Garak Bashir)

This got a bit long. I may switch it to AO3 next chapter or my site. We'll see. I'm not trying to kill dashboards if the cut doesn't work.

Big thanks to @thebluemeany for the assist with Julian's crazy cousin quote. That thing is a work of art!

Previous parts are here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: AU (no Dominion and some characters who died in the series are alive like Vedek Bareil) Garak and his surrogate daughter Ziyal find themselves on Deep Space Nine for a month on a stopover to Bajor. Their first date may not have gone so well but this time Garak's taking the lead, and he's going to see if Julian is worth the trouble

Warnings: a few seconds of language, some minor dominance/submission stuff and daddy kink

“Someone looks serious,” Ziyal teases him as he finishes fastening the high neck of the shimmering silver shirt. It’s one he wears on rare occasion- when he wants to make a point, when he wants to create a certain impression. It falls like liquid over him, a ripple of that metallic sheen down past his waist settling nicely on his hips. He decides to stay with the same black pants, opting for dark boots with several buckles stopping high on the ankle. These are the boots he wears when he doesn’t plan on taking them. Off. That’s not to say he isn’t planning on perhaps an... exciting evening. Just that it may be of a different sort than the other night. He’s certain Ziyal knows exactly what the outfit means though she knows he’s hardly going to give her any juicy detail.

He saves the details for his old friend Parmak back home. Parmak was - and still is to the best of Garak’s knowledge - Tain’s most trusted physician and he’s always been the embodiment of discretion. He’s also a deliciously corrupted and carnal soul who devours Garak’s tawdry tales like some mythical human incubus. He may also in turn respond with a few naughty little tidbits of his own. Parmak has demonstrated to him in his writings on numerous occasions that an acute knowledge of anatomy is quite useful in describing certain pleasurable acts. Really, Parmak might make a career of writing erotic pulp should he ever tire of taking Tain’s temperature and well... Garak prefers not to dwell on the other rumors surrounding his father and his old friend that Parmak vehemently denies.

“Well, if the dear boy went through the trouble of angling for a second chance, far be it for me not to put forth a comparable amount of effort as well.”

“Oh it’s a “dear boy” sort of date,” Ziyal says with a knowing grin. Garak turns away with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I have no idea what you’re implying. And, don’t think I didn’t notice you dressed in one of your more alluring tops.” She’s wearing a stunning sleeveless shirt with a neck high like his that proudly displays the tattoos of her arms. There are gold waves embroidered down the bottom, the color dark violet and matched with a pair of trouser of his own design- black with a high waistline, several attractive buttons and pockets sewn in contrasting patches along the legs. She has a pair of sandals on as well, her toes painted blue, and it’s certainly worth a comment. “Surely that’s not for Major Kira?”

Ziyal shakes her head and checks the time. Garak has a few minutes and he’s certainly never too busy to spend with her. Perhaps it might even give Julian a bit of pause if he lets him go a few minutes. Garak takes a seat on the sofa and she sits next to him.

“Should I be holding your hands with excitement or saying a prayer to the Ancients?” he asks lightly. He watches her take a deep breath, momentarily concerned before she waves him off.

“No it’s nothing exciting. It’s not. I mean I don’t know if it should be but I met a girl today yad’, the most clever, brilliant, beautiful girl and I really think you’d find her wit amusing and charming and I’m going to do bow-ling with her tonight. She told me I should wear shoes that come off easily so...” She says it’s not a big deal but he can see her practically vibrating.

Garak is glad. He was concerned about Ziyal finding her way on the Station and he’s been rather poor company in his avoidance of Julian but well, he may likely remain poor company for other reasons. Knowing that Ziyal is making... acquaintances sets his mind at ease.

“So have I met this charming young lady?” He asks thinking to anyone else he may have seen around the Station. He’d noticed a few Starfleet officers, a few other Cardassians who travelled with them; primarily merchants and a few researchers but... but no, she’s shaking her head. Interesting.

“Mardah works at Quarks. Actually I met her while I was apologizing to Major Kira.” Ziyal shifts on the couch with a bit of a bounce. “Would you believe that Major Kira actually trains a lot of the girls on the station for combat? She says self defense and something about Quark and grabby hands but she’s a wonderful instructor, yad’. You were right, I know I’ll learn a lot from her and Mardah... Oh she’s wonderful. She’s a few years younger than me and she thought my art was the most fascinating. She thinks that I’ll do well on Bajor and she’s studying to be an entomologist and she’s very strong and talented and well alright I might be a little excited for... for bow-ling”

“For bow-ling?” Garak asks with a little smirk standing up just in time to avoid being hit with a pillow. “Yes, let Mardah help you shore up your speed,” he practically sings, pretending he doesn’t notice her rude gesture. He laughs as he leaves a spring in his step saying a silent prayer for the best for them both.

—

Garak hadn’t specified a location, merely a time but as he imagined, Julian is standing outside of Quark’s looking just an enticing as he had the night of their first date. No, he amends, more so this time around since that air of practiced confidence and ease has been replaced with a genuine look of anxious anticipation and excitement. Julian’s entire face lights up when he sees Garak, a look of relief intermingled as well. Garak may have let him wait a few minutes just to make sure that he was properly contrite. He most certainly is, and there is admittedly anticipation and charge to the air between them as Julian practically runs that last few steps to greet him. It looks like Ziyal was correct when she was speaking with him earlier. This charming creature is already nothing like his date the other evening.

Strike that; there are a couple of similarities and those are quite promising. Julian looks just as handsome. He’s wearing a pair of loose beige pants which appear to be linen, nicely draping down with a peach colored shirt, contrasting to his tanned skin. He’s still showing an appreciable amount of said skin- the few buttons on top undone a bit more daring than before but he isn’t making a show of it today. His sleeves are rolled up, hair just a bit tousled and the look which he returns to Garak well… That’s just the same if not more excited than before.

“Garak!” he exclaims then winces at the loudness of his voice. Julian seems self-conscious of his own enthusiasm, lowering his voice a few octaves and clearing his throat. “Sorry ah I’m just… I’m pleased that you’re here.” He holds out his hand, clearly trying a different tact. Garak is tempted to have a little fun with him but decides that can wait until Julian is more at ease. He’s familiar with this custom and takes Julian’s hand warmly. He can tell immediately that Julian had honored his request not to mask his scent and it’s enchanting, a strong ginger mingling with an undertone of something sweet almost like honey. Garak wants to see if his skin tastes as nice.

“I’m pleased to see you more… comfortable,” Garak says diplomatically. Julian looks away momentarily, that clasp of hands hanging on a bit long from both of them before letting go.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up. I mean not that I don’t trust you er… I mean I don’t know you well enough but ah… I just… like to trust people before I don’t… I… I have no idea what I’m saying, I’m so sorry.” Garak sees him taking a step back already so flustered outside what was obviously a carefully scripted dance before. Ziyal had said somewhat naughtily that Julian was the sort of charming she was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist and while Garak had a good idea what she was implying- damn observant girl!- he feigned ignorance on that count. Oh, doctor, I would love nothing more than to devour you.

Garak smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that Julian recognizes but almost seems adorably confused by.

“Why don’t I tell you what I had in mind for this evening to start and we can go from there?” He suggests, letting his hand drop starting to walk to one of the directories. Garak may have used what little free time he was able to wrangle away from Odo that afternoon to do a little research. There’s one name on the Promenade Directory that stood out most. He had stared at it a moment uncertainly before deciding to just walk over and investigate for himself. It had turned out that the “Happy Bottom Riding Club” was in fact not as the name might have implied some sordid Federation Fetish establishment- pity- but rather a nice low key somewhat dimly lit supper club with an assortment of grilled dishes from the Alpha Quadrant.

He’d had a brief moment to speak with the hostess to make a reservation and she even took the time to explain that the name had derived from some old Earth establishment and was the brain child of a Bolian on station who owned “Forbin Project”. The Bolian, Ziw Tralar, had advised giving a name that stood out and promoted a conversation. Well, the young Andorran woman had explained, they did receive a considerable amount of curiosity business along with their fair share of “misunderstandings”. She had a poorly concealed huff of irritation explaining that last bit to him; Garak could only imagine. He lets Julian know their destination as they begin walking in that direction leisurely.

Julian laughs.

“Oh god. You know when I was first stationed here and I saw that name I thought the most awful things.”

“Did you now?”

“Well I mean you know Happy Bottom Riding Club like…” Julian pauses there and gives Garak a sideways look. “Like… you know…” Garak looks back at him innocently.

“Is that a colloquialism for some Earth practice I should be aware of?”

“Well… not exactly ah… you know it’s ah… like say you and I um…” Julian stammers again and catches Garak looking just a touch too sanguine. He scowls. “Oh you know bloody well what I mean and it’s not like my misunderstanding resulted in my showing up in vinyl with a zipper mask or something.

“My, Julian, we haven’t even started our proper date and to think I’ve already learned so much more about you than before.”

“Ha, but you know I’ve never actually been there all the years I’ve been stationed here.”

“I can’t imagine,” Garak says certain that Julian’s sure thing pleasure sim has negated any need to try anything different. Julian seems to read that thought as well looking a touch embarrassed.

“Well you know because it’s always seemed so posh with those big wooden looking doors and all.”

“Of course,” Garak agrees easily, stopping then they’ve arrived. Julian does look a touch uncomfortable but Garak puts a hand on his arm seeing Julian’s expression positively melt. Oh that’s so nice.

There’s little wait given his foresight and Garak may have made a subtle arrangement with the hostess earlier in the day when he confirmed that she would be working the rest of the evening. He let her know that he would be by later with a handsome young doctor on the station, and to her credit she wore a perfect mask of professionalism when it was clear she knew exactly which doctor and was impressed that Garak had somehow diverted him from his usual “routine”. Garak wasn’t quite sure how he felt dating a man with that infamous of a reputation but it also pleases him to be Julian’s first in a number of things. Garak had informed the hostess that he would be quite appreciative if she would note the manner of their arrival. If he were to arrive with his hands in his pockets then he wouldn’t object to prompt service and a table. If, on the other hand, he were to arrive with his hand on said doctor’s arm then he would appreciate a both in the corner, particularly, one of the intimate round seaters where they might sit next to each other and enjoy a discreet unhurried meal.

She smiles at him a little knowing expression and he slips her a few strips of latinum when she leads them both to that secluded corner booth, the clean leather large enough to sit four. Garak slides right into the middle and motions for Julian to sit next to him.

“I thought, since the first time we’d followed your plan that tonight, you might indulge my in following my lead,” Garak says, waiting to see how Julian responds. The dark lights don’t allow for as much detail of Julian’s face as Garak would like but that expression says it all as Julian nearly bangs against the table moving to obey. Obey; that has a nice ring to it. Ziyal had said- again not particularly subtly- that it was her impression that Julian was the type who might find it helpful if Garak were to tell him exactly what to do. Her expression when she offered that advice left no doubt as to what she’d meant and Guls, had it really been so long ago that she had grown her final incisors? Eight years now, Elim. Right, there will be no more lamenting of years slipping away. She is grown and in this instance that’s much to his benefit because he’s certain her advice will prove invaluable.

“Oh… oh yes, that would only be fair,” Julian says, a touch breathless when he says fair. But as tempting as he is, Garak isn’t going to rush. He’s going to be careful cautious, and he smiles as he takes a drink of cold water.

“I would like very then to play a little game with you, my dear.”

“A game?”

“Yes, a very simple one. I’m going to give you directions during our dinner and I’d like you to follow them as best as you can. I may ask you a question. I may ask you to perform just a simple task for me well within your abilities. If I’m pleased with your response then you’ll get a little reward. Is that acceptable?” Garak takes a long drink of water seeing Julian processing those guidelines carefully.

“I think that will be alright. What if there’s a question or request that I have trouble with?”

“I would never try and push you into anything that would make you uncomfortable,” Garak answers seriously, putting a hand to Julian’s arm again. “Please let me know if there is something to which you truly object.” Julian nods.

“Alright then, sounds good so then-” Garak takes the menu with a smirk just as Julian reaches for it. “Right,” he says, “following your lead.” Garak is pleased with how well Julian catches on and after establishing that there is in fact apparently nothing that the man won’t put in his mouth (Julian’s words, not his) Garak orders a carefully curated selection of dishes that can be eaten with the fingers. He then sees Julian about to take a drink, stop himself, and ask with a bit of a little gleam in his eyes for permission. Garak can feel a slight surge of heat at that as he grants it and tells Julian just a little softly himself that he won’t need to ask permission. Tonight, he adds with his own daring expression and Julian spends a little too long holding that look nearly dropping his glass with a stammered apology.

“Now then,” Garak begins. “I feel that we’ve had enough conversation revolving around the matter of Cardassian politics to last us a while so why don’t you tell me something amusing.”

“Something amusing?”

“Yes, and before you begin, I would very much like your permission to touch you a shade more boldly if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Well I’m not sure what a shade is but I’ll tell you if it’s too much?” He looks so hopeful that Garak can go nothing but agree.

“Alright then,” Julian continues with a dip of his head. You’re putting me on the spot here a bit but ah… I don’t know if you’d find any of the stupid stories about my family amusing. Ziyal had so… alright so this is completely ridiculous just happened last week actually. My cousin Paddy- god the stories I could tell you about him alone- well last week I got a COM from Ops that there was some emergency transmission coming through from Earth. So they patch him through and the first thing I see is my cousin Paddy on the dial up - er… old Earth slang, sorry- from this local pub and before he so much as says hello he’s asking me how do you know if a knife hits your arteries and then he proceeds to turn ‘round and show me right there two stab wounds. Then he says he didn’t know he’d even been cut but I should see the other buggers and I’m trying to tell him he ought to be dialing a doctor that can… you know be there in person and he’s trying to have me walk him through triage like this is just a normal thing and do you know what he says to me?”

Garak is laughing at Julian’s animated recounting, hearing that accent of his changing slightly the longer he goes on.

“What’s that?” Garak doesn’t need to affect his interest as Julian clears his throat and recounts quite comically,

“He says “I said to Jimmy, I said “ what’d you call one of the muppets down the ozzy for? Our kid’s a reet good doctor! He can learn us through it and it’ll be aber twice as good with none of the agro. Won’t even have to leave the bar. Now, go on our Ar La… ”” The translator seems to miss most of that, Garak trying to puzzle it out. Julian looks a bit sheepish as he repeats it in a more standard dialect. Garak grins as Julian continues recounting the ridiculous affair of trying to talk his cousin through treating his own stab wounds with the aid of “Jimmy” the owner of the bar and an array of likely unlicensed medical equipment. It’s a rather fantastic story, and Garak decides it certainly deserves a reward. Julian is laughing softly to himself as he concludes that as of this morning his cousin appears to be on the mend. “So is that satisfactory?” he asks, eyes moving to Garak’s hand when he sees it lift towards his face. Garak doesn’t answer immediately, instead letting his knuckles slowly and lightly drag over Julian’s cheek, seeing that his breath catches just a bit, the rest of him completely still. Now that is a lovely picture, he thinks, pulling back from that small gesture satisfied that Julian is left tongue tied when the waitress arrives and takes their order.

“Was there…” Julian licks his lips. “-anything else I might regale you with?” Garak thinks on it a moment and then instructs Julian to tell him something that he would be amazed to know, giving a sly warning that he’s quite familiar with a wide variety of subjects over multiple cultures. Julian rises to that challenge, informing him that there is a puzzle that he’s certain Garak could not possibly slither his way out of. Clever. There’s no way to confirm the veracity of your statement without the puzzle here. There may not even be a puzzle. But I wouldn’t know that. Garak is exceptionally pleased.

“That’s a good boy,” he says, this time that touch to Julian’s face lingering longer, fingers trailing down Julian’s neck with deliberate pacing, a long idle motion that leaves his eyes fluttering as he leans into that touch. This time Garak stops right at the end of his neck appreciating the way that Julian has to force his eyes to remain open. Garak has his full attention tonight, not merely a dating subroutine running on autopilot. Garak then says playfully that he’s going to tell Julian a story of his own to see if his clever boy can guess which part of it is false. Of course the entire story start to finish of their trip on the shuttle to the station is a complete fabrication but there is a point where he recounts the doctor traveling with them where he deliberately allows his body language to slip just a bit, a looks of his eyes elsewhere and Julian spots it immediately. Nice, then he can be observant when called for.

And then just to throw him, he turns back to the matter of the puzzle. Garak calls Julian’s bluff declaring that he doesn’t believe there to be so readily some trap from which he cannot escape. Julian surprises him again.

“Oh you say that now but I’ve absolutely got you.” He rubs his hands together excited with a bounce in the seat. “You really had me earlier what with the finger trap and all. I still have no idea how you pulled that one off but… I guarantee you that I have a trick you absolutely won’t be able to puzzle out.” Garak raises a brow ridge leaning in. He places a hand over Julian’s, lightly stroking the back of his hand, see a little shiver in response.

“You have my complete attention, Julian.” He sees Julian breathe out slowly.

“Right… God I don’t know how you make me feel so good with just your hands… not like that! I mean certainly like that I’m sure but-” Garak moves his hand, holding them both up.

“Is that better?” he teases as Julian already starts sliding out of the seat.

“Maybe. But you’re going to love this. Be amazed and delighted. You know when I was younger I thought it might be fun to do magic. Like you learn that all magic is really just tricks, sleight of hand, that sort of thing.” Julian has Garak come to the edge of the booth and cross his arms, feet flat on the floor facing out. “My cousin Alastair now he could do some fantastic displays but now… Is it alright if I touch here?” Julian asks pointing to the center of his own forehead. Garak nods, wondering just what it is he’s going to do. And then Julian gives a devilish grin and places a finger right at the bottom of his chufa. “Now try and stand up,” Julian says looking utterly charming with that looks of self-assurance.

Garak is certain he won’t be able to, thinking of the matter of leverage and balance and finds that assessment to be correct. He can’t stand even after gamely trying a few more times and failing.

“Is that good enough?” Julian asks teasing, just a hint of expectant desire for approval.

“It’s sufficient,” he answers with a grin and Julian releases him sitting back down, proud,sitting up a bit straighter in his seat after that.

Their food arrives and Garak rewards him by feeding him a sweet bite of char grilled utoxa. Garak wouldn’t have ever thought such a manner of cooking for the usually tough meat himself, but the description of the tenderizing marinade was too good to pass up. Julian seems to agree, eyes shutting a moment as he eats with a happy sigh.

“You know,” he says as Garak enjoys a taste as well, “My father always used to get on me about eating too quickly and you know, not properly savoring a meal but well, my mother is a fantastic cook just ah… to her own tastes. That’s brilliant right there. So how do I earn a bit of that darker piece there?” So Garak asks him another question in exchange for another piece of meat, letting his fingers just brush Julian’s lips as he slips him those bites, seeing his face start to tint just a bit darker, eyes bright and eager. He loses track of the time that passes as they clear the two plates brought out. Garak breaks that tension up volunteering a few bits of information about himself- some true, some not, but that’s the fun of it, he’s always found. Especially when Julian calls him on an especially unbelievable story during his time as a gardener and Garak quite smugly lists off every night flowering plant native to the Elaran continent, reveling in Julian’s wide surprised eyes.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I really have no idea if half the words you’re saying are even true but we are playing a game, right… You know that’s what Kipling’s Kim was all about too- the Great Game they called it,” Julian says dramatically, a bit carried away but full of energy. Garak takes a drink of the win recommended by the waitress finding it just suited for the Cardassian palette, she’s also ben keeping their water full rather unobtrusively as well. He makes a note to tip generously.

“The Great Game?”

“Well, it started as a matter of British and Russian Imperialism; a battle for the soul of India. But it’s rather like that. I mean- you could even say the battle for the soul of Bajor. Because of course Cardassia lost like Russia had all Bolshevik Revolution toppling the government and I mean the parallel is so obvious…” Julian stops suddenly, looking like he wouldn’t mind the table up and swallowing him right about now. Garak recalls Ziyal telling him that Julian’s silly tactics stemmed primarily from a fear of giving offense and well, given the chaff that Garak has imagined him bedding before now it’s hardly an unfounded concern. It rankles him to think that such a delightful mind was so vapidly wasted on dull witted Guls all these years.

Garak is far from offended. Instead he laughs, taking Julian’s hands with a reassuring squeeze. He is looking forward to having many a fiery conversation in a more intimate setting where they might… converse more freely. Julian really does get so passionate and Garak finds himself already with a rejoinder to that little verbal challenge.

“I take no offense and in fact I should very much like to peruse the work you mention just to see these... parallels.” He sees Julian nearly sag in relief. “Now how about a little reward for being such a good boy,” he all but purrs leaning in to Julian’s soft protest that he’s done nothing to warrant a reward. “Let me worry about your worthiness for rewards, my dear,” Garak says keeping hold of Julian’s hands, leaning in and delicately scenting the air around him. His tongue pokes out but doesn’t touch, letting Julian feel the warmth of Garak’s breath on his neck. He can feel Julian squeezing his hands back tightly as he moves down to the little bit of exposed skin, scenting that heady Julian musk, feeling a few heavier breaths drifting down and to think that he would be so aroused by such simple things. Garak squeezes back before letting go.

“Now, take a breath, as many as you need and tell me something that you’d like to happen in the next five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

“Five minutes.”

“Alright I... if it’s not too forward, I’d very much like to kiss you.” Julian nearly looks away but holds Garak’s eyes when he makes that request. It’s a far restrained cry from the other evening but so achingly exciting nonetheless. It makes Garak bold and just a touch reckless. He’s silent a moment, watching Julian watch him back.

“Remember what I said earlier, Julian. Now then.” He pauses and lets his voice drop in cadence to a much lower, softer tone. “Put your hand on the table. Palm up.”

Julian looks at him a moment before obeying, letting his left hand rest on the tablecloth.

“Good boy. Now look at me and don’t stop looking at me until I tell you to stop.”

“Okay,” Julian agrees and Garak doesn’t know what insanity is possessing him to ask so much, to push so far but... Guls he wants this so badly. Julian’s hazel eyes are dark as they watch him and he picks up the steak knife making sure that Julian can see it. There’s a slight dilation of pupils in response to that sight and Julian gives a start when the point of the blade brushes the juncture of his thumb and palm. There’s an averted jerk of his head to watch but he remains there, a lick of his lips, a dart of his tongue uncertain but obedient watching Garak. And Garak watches him back as he slowly traces the tip of the blade over Julian’s palm- practiced enough, having read the Julian’s slightly rough callouses to know just the right amount of pressure. It’s a tickle. He sees Julian’s breaths hitch as he lets the blade circle, skimming over skin, seeing Julian shift in the seat, the moment dragging out, his motions slowing down until the tip rests in the center of Julian’s palm and his lips are parted slightly, breaths coming heavier as Garak lets the tip push in infinitesimally as if he might dare to push it through the rest of the way.

Garak knows when the skin will break but he doesn’t know when Julian will. Julian is silent, breathing harder, Garak scenting a slight increase in that heavy musk as he leans in closer, closer, letting up with the knife as his his lips meet Julian’s with that same delicate pressure, his tongue that experimental blade never breaking skin, flicked, gone, that press of mouths no more than a half a breath. He pulls back, feeling hot, feeling the swell of ridges around his neck somewhat embarrassed but doesn’t dwell on his own physiological reactions for long. Not when Julian is sitting there chest heaving, eyes half shut like he just fucking came.

“Such a good boy,” he murmurs in praise, petting the back of Julian’s neck, his hair softly, watching his head lull boneless to that touch.

“Thank you... daddy...” slips out in an unconscious hush just barely caught by his ears. Garak decides right then they’re not finishing dinner.

(Part 7 is now up HERE)

#star trek ds9 #star trek deep space nine #ds9 fanfic #Julian Bashir #elim garak #tora ziyal #Garak/Bashir #garashir #au #deuces #fanfic #update #cyrelia-j

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