RANDOM ACTS

     It was the stupidest thing he'd done in a long time.  At
least, the stupidest thing he'd done since breakfast.  At times
Julian Bashir annoyed even himself.  Getting drunk on his
father's 80-year-old cognac--the old man's way of bonding with
his only son.  Every six months or so Julian would receive a
package from his father.  It always contained the same thing. 
The cognac, and a data chip message.  **Message in a bottle.** 
The words resonated in a singsong fashion in his head.  Julian
thought that was very funny.
     Of course, he had also thought it funny, in his inebriated
state, to saunter down to Quark's bar, and pick a fight with
Morn.  Quark's most loyal customer was quiet, and unassuming. 
But he didn't take kindly to the young human's drunken bravado,
and he never backed off from a direct challenge when it was
offered up.  Of course, Morn outweighed the doctor by at least
200 pounds, and ended the confrontation swiftly with a single
blow to the ribs.  Julian went flying halfway across the room,
crashing into Rom, a tray of drinks, and a table of four.
     Luckily Garak stepped in before any more damage could be
done--to the doctor, the customers, or the furniture.  He slipped
Quark a few strips of latinum to keep his mouth shut.  Then he
hustled the wobbly young man out of the bar before any of his
senior officers saw him.
      Garak deposited Julian on his bed, after practically
carrying him the whole way to his quarters.  While the Cardassian
searched for the doctor's med kit, Julian moaned in agony from
the pain in his ribs, and the bigger pain in his head.  He drew
himself up into a fetal position, and prayed he'd die before the
morning senior staff meeting.  "Living *down* to your
expectations, daddy," he mumbled to himself.  He could just
imagine what his father would say now.  He visualized that
certain look on the old man's face.  That sight made him giggle--
which made his ribs hurt worse.
     "Is that what this is all about?" Garak asked as he sat down
on the edge of the bed, two hypos in hand.  When Julian failed to
answer, he simply said, "You left the data chip in your
terminal."
     If Julian could muster the inclination, he'd be angry with
Garak for reading his personal mail.  Of course, he didn't have
the strength, or the stomach, to let it concern him right now. 
Besides, Garak knew better than anyone the true nature of
Julian's relationship with his father.  And that was Julian's 
fault.  A product of his own mindless prattle to an unconscious
Garak.  The doctor's special form of bedside manner, to keep his
friend rooted in the living after performing surgery upon return 
from Cardassia, and Enabrin Tain.  If truth be told, Julian had
used the opportunity to perform a bit of surgery on his own
bruised psyche.  The comatose Garak seemed a safe, and reassuring
sounding board.  How was he to know the tailor would remember
every word upon wakening.  After his initial embarrassment,
Julian actually found comfort in Garak's knowing.  Besides, the
doctor knew better than anyone how well Garak could keep a
secret.
     "What's that?" Julian mumbled, indicating the hypos.  He
tried desperately to swallow the bile building in his throat.
     "Well, my foolish Doctor," Garak started.  "One's a mild
pain killer--your ribs will thank me later."  He administered the
first hypo into the base of Julian's neck.  "And this other is an
anti-emesis medication."
     "Uh, ohhh . . . too late."  Julian sprang from the bed,
despite the protest from his ribs, and bolted for the bathroom.

     He groaned at the reflection in the mirror.  Julian felt
asinine.  He hadn't gotten that sick since his first year of
college.  He splashed some water on his face, and ran a hand
through his hair.  Then he brushed his teeth, and gargled to
remove the vile taste from his mouth.  80-year-old cognac never
tasted as smooth coming up as it did going down.  Julian noticed 
some spittle on the shirt of his uniform.  He hastily brushed at
it, and shook his head.  "Stupid . . . stupid."  He started
unzipping the jumpsuit as he walked back into the bedroom.  He
stopped suddenly when he noticed Garak still sitting on the edge
of the bed.  Julian had forgotten he was there.
     "I'd suggest you get out of that thing as soon as possible,"
Garak said, standing and walking over to the doctor.
     Julian couldn't meet his eye, and instead looked down at his
uniform.  "Yeah, I, uh . . . I guess I got sick on myself."
     "Youth."  Garak seemed quite amused.  "I guess you won't be
needing this now."  He handed Julian the second hypo.  The doctor
blushed furiously, feeling quite humiliated.
     "Uh, Garak, I, um . . . I really ought to thank you . . ."
Julian stammered, still unable to face the tailor.  "I don't know
what got into me."
     "About two to three-hundred milliliters of straight alcohol,
I would estimate."  The chide did nothing to improve Julian's
spirits.  He felt worse now than before.  Garak chuckled at the
doctor's discomfort.  "Now, now, Doctor, you wouldn't be the
first young man to make a fool of himself in a bar.  In a place
like Quark's it's sure to be the highlight of the evening. 
Besides, I seem to remember you coming to my rescue when I was in
a *similar* state of affairs . . . about six months back."  
     Julian looked up to meet the smile on Garak's face.  He knew
his friend was trying to make him feel better, and he had to
admit it helped.  "Well, thank you anyway."
     "You're welcome.  Now, I think we should get this off you." 
Garak reached out to pull down the zipper on Julian's uniform. 
The doctor jumped.  Garak paused, with his hand on Julian's
chest.  "Relax, Doctor, I'm quite used to helping my customers on
and off with their clothes."
     "B-but I can do it."  Julian's hands started shaking,
followed by the rest of his lean form.  His body's reaction to
the rapid loss of fluids.  He broke out into a cold sweat, and
blanched.
     Garak couldn't fail to notice his condition.  "I'm not so
sure about that.  I can do this more quickly than you in your
present state.  Then you can get into bed and sleep it off." 
Without waiting for objections Garak unzipped the top half of the
jumpsuit, and slipped it over Julian's thin shoulders.  He gently
backed the young man to the foot of the bed, sat him down, and
took off his boots and socks.  The jumpsuit quickly followed. 
Julian soon found Garak's actions soothing, and himself drifting
into reverie.  When Garak reached underneath the shirt to pull it
over his head, Julian was reminded of a time when he was a 
child--late in the evening, and his father, helping him on with
his pajamas.  One of those random acts of tenderness.  All his 
interactions with his father Julian could break down into random
acts--acts of kindness, and of derision.  Random acts of
violence.  Julian closed his eyes and shuddered.  Garak mistook
the action for physical discomfort.  
     "Do you want me to get something stronger for the pain?"
Garak asked.
     "There's nothing that strong."  Julian's voice sounded far
away to his own ears.
     Garak looked warily at his young friend.  He placed his
hands on Julian's shoulders.  The doctor opened his eyes, and
looked groggily into Garak's face.  There he saw compassion, and
it warmed him.  And Garak's touch was comforting--and something
else.  Something familiar.  Something he was missing.  Julian 
suddenly realized he was sitting there in nothing but his briefs. 
He felt flush--but not from embarrassment.
     Garak was taken aback.  His immediate concern for Julian was
quickly replaced by momentary confusion.  He wasn't sure, but
Garak thought he recognized *want* in the young man's eyes.  It
was unexpected.  The two men held their gaze a few, long, seconds
more.  Garak swore he could hear his heart pounding.  Then he
broke the contact.  He dropped his hands from Julian's shoulders,
and said, "Rokassa juice."
     Now it was Julian's turn to be confused.  "What?"
     The tailor turned and walked to the replicator.  "Rokassa
juice, Doctor.  I definitely think you could use some Rokassa
juice.  It's very soothing, to the stomach--and the nerves.  You
know how it soothes my nerves.  In fact, I think I'll have a
glass myself."  Garak was aware he was babbling.  But the simple
act of ordering from the replicator gave him time to collect his
thoughts--and to convince himself he had misinterpreted the
doctor's expression.  After all, the young man was still slightly
intoxicated.  Garak silently cursed his own foolishness.  
     Julian's musings completely forgotten, he groaned.  "No
Rokassa juice, please, Garak.  I can't get past the smell."  
     Garak walked back to Julian, with a glass in each hand.  "No
arguments, my friend."  He handed one to the doctor.  "I promise
it tastes altogether different than it smells."
     Julian grimaced, but thought it rude not to try some.  After
all, Garak was trying to help him.  He held his breath and
swallowed a sip.  The taste was unusual--sweeter than he would
have believed from the pungent smell.  He had to admit, it wasn't
bad.  The men drank their juice in silence.
     Julian quickly drained his glass, then stared uncomfortably
at the sediment left on the bottom.  Garak watched him closely. 
He knew he should leave now, and let the doctor get some sleep. 
But for some reason, he found he did not want to go.  As if he
could hear his thoughts, Julian looked up and caught the older
man's eye.  Garak became self-conscious, and clumsily placed his
glass on the bedside table.  "I should go now, so you can rest."
     "You don't have to go."  Julian couldn't believe he said it.
He wasn't even sure why he said it.  He only knew he didn't want
to be alone.  The need to be with someone was suddenly
overwhelming.  If Garak went now, Julian would be left with only
his thoughts to keep him company.  And Julian didn't want to have
to think right now.  It was too agonizing.
     "Garak," he started.  "Aren't you ever lonely?  I mean,
*really* lonely?"
     The question startled the tailor, and he laughed bitterly. 
"My dear, Doctor," he spat.  What kind of a game are you
playing?"
     Julian was immediately sorry he said it.  Of course Garak
was lonely.  Exiled from his home, for God knows what reason--
Julian was sure he'd never know the true story.  Surrounded by
Bajorans who would never trust him, never accept him.  With only
Julian to provide him any real friendship.  At least, Julian
hoped they were friends.  When he first met Garak, he was
convinced the Cardassian was using him to gather information. 
But, Julian quickly came to realize how inane an idea that was. 
Who was he?  A junior officer, fresh from the Academy.  His head
full of rules and regulations, and medical database--nothing
more.  When Garak almost died from the implant addiction, Julian 
was frantic to keep the tailor alive.  He discovered he had come
to depend on Garak's company more than he realized, and that they
were indeed friends.  And now, he was taking advantage of that
friendship--of Garak's loneliness.
     "I-I'm sorry, Garak.  I don't know why I said that.  I mean
. . .I just--I thought you'd understand how I was feeling." 
Julian's twisted his hands nervously in his lap.  "Sometimes I
think there's no one I can open up to--no one who really
understands me.  You know what that's like."  Julian looked coyly
at Garak.  The older man held his expression in check, and gave
no indication of a response.  Julian suddenly wondered where he
was going with this.  He looked down at his lap, and said, in
almost a whisper, "I--I don't want to be alone . . . tonight.  I
just want to be with someone who cares--about *me*."
     Though Garak's expression was unflinching, his mind was
racing, and his mouth had gone dry.  Was this young man asking
what he thought he was?  Could it be possible, after all this
time?  Garak fought to think logically.  When he could trust
himself to speak, he said, "You mean like one of your lady
friends?"
     Julian smiled weakly.  "Something like that."  He paused
before continuing.  "Except, there's no one--special--right now. 
No one like . . ."  His words trailed off.  If Julian really
wanted to, tried hard enough, he could probably meet someone--on
the Promenade, or at Quark's.  He wasn't that unsuccessful. 
Occasionally a woman would pass through his life--for a day, or
two--maybe a few.  A couple precious weeks perhaps.  And then
she'd be gone.  The last serious relationship he had was over a
year ago.  The Elaysian woman had come and gone before he knew
what hit him--or how hard it hit him.  But, nothing like that
since.  And now--now he didn't know what he wanted--what he was
asking for.  He had never put himself in this situation before. 
It simply never came up.  All he could think about, right now,
was of a conversation with Dax.  When the Trill had tried to
point out an *aspect* of Garak's relationship with the young
human he wasn't aware of.  He disbelieved it at first.  He
couldn't imagine Garak having those feelings about him.  Not that
the thought offended him.  Julian had no prejudices about other
people's preferences in matters of intimacy.  He only knew he had
never given Garak any reason to have those thoughts, and
innocently assumed there was no cause to think he that he would. 
Julian later considered Dax's words; and wondered, only then,
what it might be like.  After all, he was curious about
sexuality.  It was a young man's preoccupation.  Julian had even
gone to the extent of reading whatever literature he could find
on Cardassian sexual practices.  Interestingly enough, he found
the culture to be comparable to that of the ancient Romans of
earth history.  While formal, married unions were rigidly
monogamous and heterosexual, same-sex relationships for
recreational purposes were common, and readily accepted in most
Cardassian societies.  Very often a young Cardassian's first
sexual encounter was with one of his or her own sex.  The
practice was encouraged, to cut down on unwanted pregnancies
among the young, and unmarried.  
     What started out as a simple pursuit of knowledge, had
become, at times, a source of fantasy for Julian--when he was in
between relationships--and feeling particularly vulnerable. 
After all, there was something enticing about being with someone
as strong, or stronger, than himself.  Erotic--and, strangely,
secure.
     Having come this far, Julian thought he may as well say it. 
Besides, the worst Garak could say was *no*.  At least, that's
what Julian hoped was the worst that could happen. 
     "Garak, don't you . . . well, Dax said . . ."  Julian took a
breath.  This was harder than he thought.
     Garak steeled himself to hear it.  He wanted to hear it. 
"What are you trying to say, Doctor?"  Garak fought to keep
himself from screaming out the words.
     "I thought--thought you had . . . certain feelings--for me. 
Certain . . . *desires*.  Y-you can tell me.  I don't mind.  I
mean, I--I suspected.  And Dax, well, she said you did, er, you
do.  I mean . . ."  Julian bit his lip to stop his rambling.  He
sighed.  "I'd really like to know how you feel, Garak.  The
truth."
     It was probably as close to a direct request as he was going
to get, at this rate.  Garak, never eager to tip his hand, was
also loathe to let opportunity pass him by.  And this was an
opportunity he never dared hoped he get.  He walked over, and sat
down next to Julian on the bed.  "Truth is ambiguous.  Which
*truth* do you want to hear?"
     Julian, finally exasperated, blurted out, "Do you want to
stay--here--tonight, or not?"
     "Do you know what you're asking, my dear Doc--Julian?"
     "Yes," Julian said, with a little more confidence.  "I
admit, I don't have a *lot* of experience--with same-sex
relationships."  Julian blushed again, and turned his head.  "Or
*any", he admitted.  He turned back to see Garak smiling at him,
not unkindly.  "But, I am a quick learner."  Julian returned the
smile, a little impishly.
     Garak reached up and slipped his hand behind Julian's
slender neck.  He gently leaned in and rested his cheek against
the doctor's.  Their lips brushed together, but Garak made no
move to kiss him.  They simply rested there, each feeling the
other's breath.  Without pulling back Garak softly said, "Perhaps
we can both learn something."  He paused, and then asked, "Are
you doing this to punish your father?"
     Julian's breathing was rapid.  "No," he whispered against
Garak's lips.  "Yes . . . maybe.  Does it matter?"
     "Not really," the tailor admitted.  And with that he pressed
firmly against Julian's mouth, and gave him a long, full kiss. 
It was soft, tender, and more erotic than the younger man had
expected.  He sought out Garak's tongue with his own, teasing,
and entwining with it.  Julian leaned in against Garak, wrapping
one arm around the small of his back.  With his other hand he
stroked the large vein on one side of Garak's neck.  The older
man moaned, and Julian found himself becoming very aroused at the
sound.  The two men continued to kiss, delighting in the simple,
luscious, act for several more seconds, minutes--an eternity. 
Finally Garak broke the contact, with more than a little
reluctance.  He cupped the young man's face in his hands.  The
two looked at each other, their breathing as hard as if they had
run a marathon.  Julian leaned in to kiss the Cardassian again. 
But Garak held him off by dropping his hands to grip Julian's
shoulders.  
     "I think I'm a little over-dressed for the occasion," the
tailor remarked.  He reached further down to brush against
Julian's erection, pressing firmly against the thin material of
his briefs.  The doctor gasped, and nodded quickly in
understanding.  He started unbuttoning Garak's jacket, his
fingers fumbling nervously.  The Cardassian took some pleasure in
the young man's first-time unease.   But his own ardor soon got
the better of him, and he impatiently wrenched the jacket off,
and then his shirt.  Garak stood to remove his pants, and Julian
watched him intensely.  The older man delighted in his scrutiny. 
When he was completely naked, he stood there in silence for the
doctor's inspection. 
     Julian took the opportunity to appraise Garak from head to
foot.  The Cardassian was broad, but firm.  The large neck
cartilage tapered to the shoulders, and blended into a slightly
reptilian pattern of the skin there.  The same skin pattern was
repeated in splashes about the body--at the large pectorals, the
thighs, calves, and faintly about the buttocks.  The rest of
Garak's skin was smooth, and the overall color had a grey hue. 
From the shoulders two thin ribbings ran down his sides, to end
at the small of the back.  There was no hair on his body, not
even at the pubis.  Garak's penis, erect, and much larger than
Julian's own, was protected by a thick foreskin; and the heavy
scrotum, too, was covered by a thicker membrane.  Julian felt his
own sex grow harder at the sight.  Tiny beads of sweat broke out
on his upper lip, and his heart was pounding.  Julian had never
thought he could find another man arousing--especially one so
different from himself.  Unconsciously, he licked his lips.
     Garak enjoyed watching Julian's reaction.  He said, "You've
seen all this before, of course.  In the infirmary."
     "Not quite like this," the doctor answered.  "And certainly
not under these circumstances."  He got up and pushed his briefs
off to release his own rigid sex.  He kicked the garment across
the floor, and walked over to stand chest to chest with the
Cardassian.  Julian ran his hands over the skin there, and found
it cool, like smooth kid leather.  The sensation was not at all
unpleasant.  The two men embraced, and kissed again--probing--
more hungrily than before.  They ground their hips together, and
rubbed their erections against each other.  Julian broke off from
Garak's lips and nibbled at his neck.  The Cardassian dropped his
head back and relished in the sensation of Julian's tongue and
teeth in that most sensitive area.  He gripped the young man's
smooth, tight, backside with both hands, hard enough to lift him
onto his toes.  Julian countered by running his fingers along the
veins at Garak's ribs, stopping to leisurely caress the reptilian
skin on his buttocks.  Then he slid his hands around to grab his
erection, gently pushing the foreskin back to stroke the
smoother, more sensitive shaft underneath.  Garak growled low,
and soft.  He reached for Julian's own pert sex, gathering the
balls in one hand, and tickling the fine, ebony curls with the
other.  Garak looked down with curiosity as he massaged Julian's
penis.
     "This is different," he stated simply.
     Julian found it hard to concentrate on words.  His head swam
from the stimulation.  "You mean," he breathed, "you mean the
circumcision?  Mmmmm.  It's--it's an old practice.  The foreskin
is, ahhhh . . . is removed at birth . . . for religious, or--or
sanitary customs."  Both men continued to stroke each other. 
They lazily kissed, or nipped at each other's tongues.  Julian
suddenly cried out with a start when Garak gave his scrotum a
hard squeeze.  Garak looked abashed, and quickly dropped his
hands.
     "I'm sorry.  I thought you'd like that."
     Julian gripped the Cardassian's upper arms while he caught
his breath.  He gave the man a feeble smile.  "It's alright. 
It's just that--I'm a little more sensitive--there.  Not as much
padding as you, I guess.  You probably like it a lot harder."
     Garak cradled the doctor's face in his strong hands.  "With
me you can be rough.  But I will try to be--gentler, with you." 
He gave the young man a tender, almost chaste, kiss.  "I don't
want to hurt you, Julian."  The doctor melted at the words, and
tears came unbidden to his eyes.
     "I know, Elim," he whispered.  Julian fell into Garak's
brawny arms, and laid his head against his chest.  The Cardassian
held him tight, and the two men stood like this in silence for
several long minutes.  Garak stroked Julian's hair lightly, as he
would a child--running his fingers through the soft curls on the
nape of the neck.  With his other hand he massaged his lean back,
delighting in the silky feel of his skin--so much like the finest
silk from Kraus IV.  And the color--much darker, almost golden. 
It was such a contrast to his own, pale skin.  Julian quivered at
Garak's gentle caress, and sighed blissfully.  Then, slowly, he
pulled back from the embrace, giving Garak a coquettish look. 
Julian walked back to the bed, and said, "Come here." 
     Garak was on him before he knew it, grasping his slender
waist with both hands, and pushing him back onto the bed under
his own, bulky frame.  The two men tossed around in a frenzy, 
kissing, and nibbling each other all over.  On the neck, under
the arms, at Julian's nipples and Garak's breastplate, inside the
thighs, and behind the scrotum.  Both thrilled in the discovery
of the commonalities in their pleasure zones.
     With some effort, Julian rolled on top of Garak.  His sex
throbbed with the need for release.  He pushed himself up onto
his hands and knees, and positioned his penis over Garak's mouth,
brushing against the cheek.  His eyes, clouded with lust, pleaded
silently.  Garak growled again, licking the drops of fluid at the
head.  He opened his mouth, and swallowed the organ up to the
hilt.  Julian closed his eyes, threw his head back, and moaned. 
Garak grabbed the doctor's buttocks, and rocked him slowly, back
and forth inside his mouth, sucking strong and hard.  The
sensation sent Julian's mind reeling.  He had never experience
anything quite as intense with a woman in the same position.  He
broke into a sweat, and cried out in time with each thrust inside
the Cardassian's hot mouth.  Julian could feel the tension
knotting in his groin--the tightness building to a crescendo. 
Finally he reached his climax, and exploded with an inarticulate
shout, and a spurt of semen down Garak's throat.  The tailor
swallowed the warm fluid eagerly.  Julian trembled in place from
the force of the orgasm.
     Once spent, the doctor flopped down atop Garak's body.  He
lay there contently, until his heart and breathing paced to
normal.  Julian felt Garak's sex, still hard, against his
stomach.  With a jolt he realized his friend remained
unsatisfied.  "Oh Elim," he sighed, and kissed the Cardassian
full on the lips.  He could smell his own musky scent on the
other's man's breath.  Julian slid down Garak's body until the
tailor's large member was at his lips.  Gently he pushed the
foreskin back, and tickled the head with his tongue.  He took it
into his mouth and, remembering Garak's desire for roughness,
scrapped his teeth up and down the shaft.  The Cardassian moaned
and writhed, clutching Julian's head with his hands.  The doctor
squeezed the balls hard, and quickened the motions of his tongue
and mouth.  Once or twice he bit the head, which inflamed Garak
more.  Julian was so intent on giving him as much as he'd been
given that, when Garak finally came, the astonishment he felt at
tasting another man didn't hit him until later, when he lay
dozing in the tailor's arms.
     Garak lay back complacently, arms folded behind his head. 
Julian stretched out beside him, propped up on one elbow.  He
grinned at the Cardassian.
     "And what, dear boy, do you find so amusing?" Garak asked.
     "Nothing.  It's just that . . . well, this is very--
different.  Certainly not what I'm used to."  
     "I see.  And did you not find it--agreeable?"
     Julian blushed.  "I think you know I did.  I just never
expected to--that's all."
     Garak smiled indulgently.  The doctor thought for a moment,
then asked, "Which do you prefer?"
     The tailor looked puzzled.  "Prefer?  What do you mean?"
     "You know," Julian started.  "Men or women?"
     Garak laughed, and Julian turned even redder.  "At this
stage in my life, preference is overshadowed by availability." 
He hastened to add, "Or opportunity."
     "I'm sorry."  The young man felt foolish.  "I keep saying
stupid things.  It's my worst flaw.  I guess . . . I *am* pretty
naive.  Everyone thinks so."  Julian lay back and looked sullenly
at the ceiling.  Garak rolled over to face him.  He placed his
hand gently on the doctor's chest.
     "Don't discount your naivety.  On the contrary, I find it to
be rather--appealing."  He bent down and kissed the young man,
and was rewarded with a beatific smile.
     Julian wrapped his arms around Garak, and pulled him in for
another kiss--deep and passionate.  Then he tenderly trailed
kisses all over the ribbings on the Cardassian's face and ears. 
Garak reveled in the young man's attentions.  After their first
encounter, Garak thought the doctor's need would have been sated. 
But soon the two men were rubbing against each other, groping and
licking until they were fully aroused.  Finally Garak whispered,
"Julian, I want to be inside you."
     The sudden request heightened the ache in Julian's loins. 
It both thrilled and unnerved him.  He wanted to please Garak--
and the thought of being taken by him was exciting.  But it was
also a bit frightening.  Hesitantly he rolled onto his stomach. 
The Cardassian, however, recognized the trepidation in his
friend.  He slipped one strong arm underneath Julian's chest, and
scooped him up into a kneeling position.  "Let's try it like
this," he said.  "Lean into the wall, and brace yourself against
it.  I think you'll find it easier."  Garak didn't want to have
to place his full weight on the slighter man.  Both to avoid the
recent injury to his ribs, and to stall the panic Julian may
experience being pinned, and unable to move.
     Julian positioned himself as Garak instructed.  The
Cardassian knelt behind him.  He felt the other man's hands
caressing his backside, and stretching the anus with his fingers. 
The doctor breathed deeply, and tried to relax.  He concentrated
on how good Garak's hands felt.  Julian looked over his shoulder.
"Elim, will you use a lubricant?" he asked, sheepishly.
     Garak smiled back at him.  "Of course.  I almost forgot." 
He fought the temptation to slam into him, his ardor for the
young man almost unbearable.  If this were another Cardassian
lover, he would not be so patient.  But, this was Julian--more
delicate, and inexperienced.  "Do you have something around here? 
I'm afraid I didn't come prepared for this evening's--encounter."
     Without shifting his pose, Julian nodded toward the table
beside the bed.  "Umm, I think there may be something in the
drawer there."  He shivered ever so slightly.
     Garak pressed the release for the drawer, and pulled out a
small, azure bottle.  He removed the top and poured some of the
contents into his palm.  The lotion felt oily, the scent was
clean and somewhat herbal.
     "It's a massaging lotion," Julian started to explain.  "Left
by a, uh, a friend."
     "One with very nimble fingers, no doubt."  Garak was amused
to see, after all they'd been through, Julian could still get
flustered.  He rubbed the lotion thoroughly at the entrance of
the anus, and as far inside as his finger would go.  He reached
between Julian's legs, and used more to coat the shaft of his
semi-erect sex.  The lotion was cool at first touch, but tingled
and grew warm very quickly.  
     Julian let out a low moan.  "Mmmmm, that feels good," he
said, in barely more than a whisper.
     Garak tossed the bottle to the floor.  He pushed back the
foreskin on his own member, and pressed it against the doctor's
buttocks.  He leaned against Julian's back and asked, gently,
"Are you ready?"
     "Yes, please," the young man breathed.  Garak began to push
inside Julian, slowly.  He wrapped his arms around the doctor's
waist, and pulled him back toward his hips.  Julian gasped, and
held his breath as he felt himself being stretched and filled. 
He no longer supported himself against the wall.  Garak held him
fast against his broad chest, his hips flush against the doctor's
backside.  Julian released his breath in quick, short bursts.  He
reached one arm behind him, and grabbed onto Garak's muscular
neck.   
     If Garak was not holding him upright, Julian's knees would
have buckled beneath him.  The sensation of holding Garak inside
him was dizzying, burning--potent.  A trickle of sweat slide down
his sternum.  With a shock he realized he was fully hard.  His
eyes fluttered closed, and he cried out once, "Oh God . . ." 
     Garak began to thrust, slowly, inside the doctor.  The
experience was just as intense for him, were he to admit it to
Julian.  The doctor was tight--almost virginal--alighting every
nerve ending in his groin.  And it had been so long for the
Cardassian.  The desire to come was almost immediate.
     He felt Julian begin to rock back against him, in time with
his own motions.  The doctor dropped his head back on Garak's
shoulder.  He sought out the Cardassian's sensitive cartilage
with his tongue.  Garak bit, and sucked on Julian's neck,
delighting in the salty taste of the sweat that matted the curls
of his hair there.  Julian ran his tongue and teeth up and down
Garak's large neck vein.  He twisted his hips a little faster
now, a little harder.  A growl resonated from deep inside Garak's
throat.  Julian had become addicted to that sound.  It sent
chills tickling up his spine.      
     Suddenly, Garak stopped.  He grabbed Julian's waist to still
his undulations.  "W-what . . ." was all the doctor managed to
pant out, frustrated at the break in rhythm just starting to
build.
     Garak breathed heavily in the young man's ear.  "You're so
tight . . ."  He took a few more breaths.  "I'm afraid I may
finish all too soon."  Another pause.  "I want to enjoy you, as
long as possible."  Garak clung to Julian, desperately trying to
slow the rate of his breathing, and still the throbbing in his
sex.
     Julian arched his neck to meet the other man's mouth,
opening it with his tongue.  They knelt there as they were, Garak
still deep inside him, and savored again the simple act of
kissing.  The silence in the room was interrupted only by the wet
sounds of their mouths caressing.  Garak ran his hands over
Julian's firm stomach, and up his chest to stop and pinch the
nipples hard.  The slight pain sent a jolt of pleasure buzzing
through the doctor's sex.  He reached back to grip the tailor's
strong thighs, scrapping his nails over the reptilian skin there. 
Despite Garak's need for restraint, Julian pushed back against
him, driving the Cardassian deeper, to touch his most sensitive
inner recesses.  He reached for his own erection, with the intent
to masturbate.
     "No, don't", Garak pleaded.  He pushed the young man's hands
away, and gripped the swollen member himself.  With one good
thrust he pushed Julian back up against the wall.
     The doctor hugged the hard surface, burying his head in his
forearms.  Garak plunged once, twice, three times with as much
moderation as he could sustain.  But soon he was hammering into
Julian--all sense of reason blotted by a more base, animal drive. 
Garak clung to Julian's back, warm and wet against his own sweaty
bulk.  He tautly embraced the doctor's thighs and buttocks
between his hips.
     Julian bucked wildly back and forth, taking the Cardassian
in deeper, and hotter.  Garak squeezed and stroked Julian's sex,
harder and faster in pace with his own urgent pounding.  The
tailor's strong hand motions seemed to inflame the remnants of
the oily lotion still clinging to his penis.  The intense
stimulation, coming from inside and outside his body, threw
Julian's senses into overload.  He thrashed with abandon,
ignoring the pang in his muscles.  He felt the tensing of his 
sex, close now to the breaking point.  Julian moaned loudly.  The
sound met with Garak's own wordless cries.  Soon Julian could not
distinguish between his own voice and that of the Cardassian's.
     Garak came with such force he slammed the young man flush
against the wall.  He jerked up tightly on Julian's member,
bringing him almost simultaneously.  With two hard spasms, Garak
emptied himself inside the doctor.  Julian spilled his semen out,
flowing into the tailor's hands.  Both men groaned, and shuddered
from the release.  Their sweat mingled together--hot where the
flesh touched, icy as it dripped off their bodies, and met with
the cool air.
     When the room stopped spinning, Garak slumped back onto the
bed, still clutching Julian to his chest.  He wrapped one arm and
leg around the younger man, not wanting to relinquish the feel of
his silky, warm body against him.
     Julian sighed, and huddled in tight as he could.  That
simple action caused protest from his stiffened muscles.  He
ached all over; and yet, felt more content than he had in a long
time.  And infinitely safer.  Exhaustion overcame him quickly. 
Julian drifted off to sleep, lulled by the faint snores in his
ear from an equally spent Garak, already in slumber.

     Sometime later Garak lay in drowsy meditation,  still curled
against Julian's back.  The doctor slept peacefully, and securely
in his embrace.  Though Garak normally found the station
temperature to be cold and uncomfortable, at this particular
moment he thought he had never felt so warm.  He glanced up at
the chronometer in the wall above Julian's bed.  The alarm was
set to go off in three hours.  The doctor had a schedule to keep,
an important position, a career.
     *And what do you have to look forward to?* The tailor
silently mused.  A clothier shop on the promendade of a Bajoran-
owned space station.  If he failed to open his store for a day,
or a week, he knew it wouldn't really matter.  He wouldn't be
missed.  But once he was like this young man.  He had status,
respect . . . a life.  And now?  A decision made.  It was too
late for regrets.
     But if he were who he used to be, he could take this
beautiful boy to his home on Cardassia Prime.  He would delight
in showing off his world.  They could enjoy the intellectual and
artistic pursuits.  They would engage in stimulating debate. 
They would have all the time in the universe.
     He snapped himself out the reckless fantasy.  *Foolish old
man,* he thought bitterly.  All he could hope for now was that he
hadn't lost the one thing--the one person--who made this
insufferable life tolerable.  The one friend he had for
lightyears.  Had he taken advantage of Julian's despondency, his
self-inflicted ridicule?  Yes, of course he had.  He seized the
opportunity to appease his own anquish, regardless of the
consequences.  And soon would have to face those.  Garak looked
back to the chronometer.  Two hours to go.
     He pondered how humans were more uncertain in sexual matters
than Cardassians.  Especially young humans.  They took it far
more seriously.  Too often it was the cause of misunderstanding. 
Garak didn't want there to be misunderstanding between himself
and Julian.  Reluctantly, he slipped out of the cozy embrace,
careful not to disturb the sleeping young man.  Julian
unconsciously felt the shift in the bed, and stirred.  He mumbled
something unintelligible, but did not awaken. 
     Garak rose quickly, and searched for his clothes scattered
on the floor.  As he dressed, he devised a course of action. 
What he would say, how he would act.  He thought perhaps it would
be best if he avoided Julian for a few days.  Kept to himself,
stayed busy.  And then, casually meet up again with the doctor
one day in the replimat.  They wouldn't discuss this night--he
wouldn't bring it up.  Garak would ask about Julian's day.  Or,
better still, act as though he were trying to obtain some vital
piece of information from him.  Some mysterious, innocuous, bit
of gossip.  Garak groaned inwardly.
     Once dressed, the Cardassian started to slip out of the
room.  He hesitated to look back at Julian, sprawled invitingly
on the bed.  He walked over and carefully pulled the cover over
the young man, up to his waist.  Then, despite himself, he gently
brushed his fingers over the wisps of hair above Julian's brow. 
     The doctor's eyes drifted open, and he looked up at Garak
drowsily.  The lazy smile in his eyes quickly turned to
puzzlement.  "Mmmmm, Garak . . . are you leaving?"  And then,
more attentively, "What time is it?"  He tried to sit up.
     So there it is, the Cardassian thought.  A few short hours
ago it was *Elim*.  Now they were back to *Garak*.  So be it.
     Garak put his hand on Julian's shoulder, and gently nudged
him back down.  "It's early yet.  You still have a couple of
hours before you need to be up."
     "Then, why . . ." Julian started to ask.
     "I thought it would be prudent for me to go--before anyone
sees me leaving your quarters at such an early hour."  The
explanation was simple, and not entirely untrue.
     "I understand," was all the doctor said.  
     Garak wondered if he did understand.  Did he guess the
tailor was frantic to leave before any irreparable damage could
be done to their friendship.  *And if I don't leave now, I'll
never let you out of that bed.*  Garak silently cursed the
desirous thought.  *Foolish, foolish old man!*
     "Doctor, I don't think I'll be able to meet you for lunch
today."  Garak strived to regain the upper hand.  "I have a
shipment of synthetic linens arriving from Rigel III that I have
to inventory.  And there's the matter of 50 kilograms of Klingon
chain mail, erroneously delivered last week, that I really must
resolve."
     Garak waited for a response from the doctor, but all he got
was a nod.  "So as you can see," he continued, forlornly, "I
shall be too busy for lunch."  
     "Yes," was all Julian said to this flimsy attempt at
nonchalance.  Garak wondered if he had not just made things
worse.  He flashed him a weak smile, and turned to go.
     "But," Julian began, stalling the Cardassian's exit. 
"Perhaps we could meet later . . . for supper.  If you've
completed your--inventory."
     A line was thrown to him, however fragile.  Garak's heart
almost lept from the relief he felt.  Maintaining his composure,
he replied, "And providing there are no medical emergencies to
detain you."
     Julian smiled, "Of course."  Then suddenly he grasped
Garak's hand.  He placed the palm to his lips, and tenderly
kissed it.  "Thank you, Garak," he whispered.
     The Cardassian knew it was he who should be thanking the
young man.  Thanking him for his friendship, not rescinded. 
Instead he only replied, "You're welcome."
     Julian yawned, and his eyes grew heavy.  "Go back to sleep,"
Garak murmured.  "Umm-hmm," the doctor muttered.  He turned over
and hugged the pillow to his cheek.  He heard the whoosh of the
door, and knew that Garak had gone.  Julian smiled to himself,
marveling at how one action counteracted another.  A single,
random act of generosity, erased another of indifference.  One
surprising and new, the other exacted for far too long.  He
slipped into a dreamless sleep, happily thinking everything would
be all right from now on.

THE END