Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek DS9, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
…
Canvas
Raven Ehtar
…
Garak breathed deep, scenting the skin before him, trembling and beautiful.
It never ceased to fascinate, this skin, its smoothness, its color, its heat and mobility. Over the course of a year he had developed an odd appreciation for Human skin, and that of this one Human in particular. He studied it carefully whenever he was given the opportunity.
So ridiculous it seemed at first, unadorned with anything for either protection or decoration, it left Humans so unacceptably vulnerable. It was such soft, pliable stuff for soft, pliable creatures.
Expressive, too; Human skin was a canvas of expression, especially to one who lived to read the smallest of hints. It flushed and paled, heated and cooled, shivered, twitched and rose in tiny bumps - "gooseflesh" - when cold, excited or aroused. Human skin gave off scents that its wearers were too unaware to consciously notice.
Garak was not unaware. He took in every silent communication this Human's canvas had to offer and solicited more. It was especially enticing here: at the melding between shoulder and throat. Here there should have been heavily corded ridges, protective armor to keep one safe, but there was nothing. Nothing but warm skin.
He flicked out a tongue, taking in more of the scent. Flesh shivered and a deep pulse quickened to his touch, the flavor of musk was heavy in his throat. It was no wonder Humans were hopeless at obfuscation, when their very bodies told a story. The deep pulse there was really not so deep… so close to the surface, so close to his teeth…
Garak bit down, though not hard, no - not too hard. The skin was far too delicate.
A gasp, the body beneath him tensing and then slowly relaxing; and still that pulse, beating at his teeth, against his tongue in a rhythmic song. It was so close, hidden, but not from him.
Human skin communicated openly, there were no secrets. Everything was there to be seen, to be tasted on his lips, intoxicating him, making his head spin, and still he wanted more, a gluttonous supplicant.
More, my dear, give me more, give me everything…
"Garak, are you alright? You're shaking."
A deep breath to steady himself, a breath flavored with his lover's scent, the intoxicating, contagious smell of expression.
"Yes, my dear. Everything is perfectly alright."
A small frown; so much so easily read upon his face, his beautiful doctor. "Are you sure? It's not like you to…"
Express. Communicate. Be open. All of those things which a Cardassian never did lightly and which a Human could almost not help but do.
Garak smiled, and it was not a mask. "It must be your influence on me, my dear doctor."