Note: Just made it under the wire. Been a busy week. What's sad is this chapter and the next was supposed to be one chapter but that was so not happening. Definite Garak/Jadzia abc action here and the necessary buildup for next chapter's er... climax but still nothing graphic. I'm actually really psyched to get to Jadzia's backstory in this story though it's quite a long ways away yet. Thank to everyone reading, C&C always welcome!
Garak is beginning to wonder if Doctor Bashir's true intention really isn't to kill him. He isn't sure himself how he and Jadzia even made it up the narrow staircase- with a rather lengthy stop on the landing, much to the dismay of a couple of humans who had to resort to some rather intimate contortions to shoulder past them- and he nearly tripped over that last step. Jadzia hardly gives him time to regain his footing before she is on him again. She'd left the long white boa downstairs whether with the belief that it will somehow find its way back to her, or out of a complete lack of regard in her haste to get him upstairs and unclothed, he cannot even say at this point, though he surely suspects the latter. He suspects as much as his focus will allow him to, that is. He finds himself with his back to the wall after another quick reversal of their positions that nearly spins him a hundred eighty degrees, and the oddly passive position leaves him just a touch out of sorts.
He had imagined, of course as far as he ever dared such lascivious imaginings, that she would hardly be a reserved lover. What he had not accounted for even in those scant musings just how aggressive she would actually be. To be fair, he did answer in the affirmative when she had her mouth fastened beautifully to the sensitive ridge along his neck and she asked him whether or not he thought he was up to the encounter. To be more fair, however, he had not quite realized everything that would entail. And what it entails at exactly this moment is an impressively firm grip to his hair, head forced back, the initial tug making him hit the wall with a hiss that had only made her half coo orgasmically against his skin with the other playing under his shirt, just enough pressure kneading his side not to tickle. Garak has never before bedded a Klingon of either gender though he imagines that if the experience is not entirely identical to this it's likely damn close.
The skin of her hands is soft, but not unworked. He can feel the light callouses where she's clearly gripped a weapon many times in the past if not the present. His own hands have not been idle though it had taken him at least enough time to try and determine exactly how forward to be given the circumstances. While there might not be any witnesses at present- and he has kept his eyes darting back to the stairwell for any sign of the doctor's shadow or rather elusive presence- he is well aware that it is not his place to dictate her level of bodily exposure. And thus his hands move, purposefully, quickly beneath the many ruffles of her skirts, feeling the hilt of a dagger brush his forearm as his hands squeeze that infinitely squeezable round of her ass. He feels her shift, feels her grind against him harder and he sighs, eyes flickering down the hall counting still a good ten feet to his own door as he wonders how this possibly plays into the scheme if they don't even make it to the room.
Not that Garak particularly minds that per se but he doesn't feel it beneficial to his standing in such a small town to be known as the Cardassian exhibitionist pervert. Garak gasps, that thought nipped down as her teeth nip the sensitive nerves of that tender ridge running along the underside of his ear, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as she lifts a leg, knee hitting the wall beside him with a loud thud.
"Why don't we play a game, Garak?" she teases him with a hard suckle, that raised leg just begging him to run a hand over that smooth skin. He obliges with a draw of his own nails that makes her hands clench unconsciously. He can feel her shiver deliciously against him and wonders if it as to do with the lovely Trill markings or if its just of his own merit.
"I'm afraid you'll find me a poor winner," he says with a slight snap of the elastic garter belt against her skin. Jadzia laughs softly.
"Cardassians are always so sure of themselves," she answers with a tun of her hips that is so terribly tempting. "But are you confident enough to play the game before knowing the rules?"
She feels nice pressed against him- warm, willing, strong enough that he doesn't feel the need to hold anything back. A deadly combination but if the stakes of her game are that book then of course there would be no particular need for haste, for any other subterfuge other than a pleasant evening. A pity we're not yet inside. It would be so much easier to play this game. Her insistent rocking gives him some clue as to the terms of her game; he's quite aware that certain races have a fixation with thoughtless frottage. It's not an indulgence Garak has ever allowed unless absolutely necessary and he has a feeling it would be best to keep his faculties at their peak. Especially when she does that, her fingers having danced their way down to the back of his neck a maddening light touch sharply contrasting her sharp scrape of teeth not quite touching the ridges of his collarbone.
"Confident... but not... foolish my dear you... ah...seem to have me at ahhhh... disadvantage." A disgustingly truthful statement overplayed so as to at least give a false sense to his very real excitement at her mouth. He can feel her smile, feel her other hand slink behind his back to the wall until she gives his own ass a meaningful squeeze drawing them even closer against one another.
"I bet I can make you evert yourself," she promises her lips tracing up his throat to nip at his jaw. "Every last inch." Jadzia punctuates that declaration with a fervent lick to his parted lips and he does feel so inclined to reward such audacity that he lets his tongue kiss hers back with an answering flicker, a soft sensual twining, feeling her grip on him loosen just enough to shift his weight. With a careful pivot following, he practically throws her back against the wall still holding her thigh hard enough to bruise. He hears the clatter of a heel, a shoe half being kicked and hears another loud thud as the other shoe drops. Garak notes that she's still just as tall as he even without them. Her answering moan prompts him to keep that pressure as she bares her throat rather prettily. Garak seizes that, tongue dancing lightly, softly, thankful that it's his right hand that's free as he uses it to slam her wrist to the wood paneling soundly, holding it there tightly.
"Oh many have tried, my dear," he kisses up her neck, teeth catching just the tip of her earlobe beneath a small silver stud that seems oddly staid for the rest of her outfit. "But I assure you that the one shaming themselves first tonight shall certainly not be me."
"Mmm..." he feels the tension in her wrist, feels her fingers curl as if her nails are biting into her own palm as she moans. He feels the arch of her body, feels her chest press back to his, and Garak takes that as his invitation to be that much less a gentleman. He ducks his head, sure that he knows exactly her game, thrilled that she has such confidence in her abilities as to win the book in such a way. Not that he'll let her of course but he welcome the challenge and hides a grin with a hard mouth to the very top of where her soft breast is raised up in that tight revealing dress, giving a secondary test to the sensitivity of those spots. "Care to make a wager?" she asks voice shaky, possibly a put on but he allows it.
"And what might that be?" he murmurs with perfectly feigned curiosity that he's sure she doesn't buy. That deep husky laugh says it all as he feels her fingers once more at the nape of his neck like a dog or a Klingon- not much difference as far as he's concerned. He turns his head, eyes up towards hers and he can definitely see the gears in her head turning fiercely, so loud he can practically hear them. And he hears her voice recover almost miraculously, steady, calm, a Ferengi in the midst of a hard bargain.
"You have something I want, Garak," she says archly which could just as easily be a dirty double entendre as her thumb strokes that ridge at the back of his neck. "And I know I have something you want too." She pauses, licks her lips, and just dares him to say it.
Garak merely raises a brow ridge with a slightly heavy lidded hard suck leaving a small pink mark on her skin playing prettily with all the rest.
"You'll have to speak up, my dear, I'm afraid my kind doesn't hear all that well." And now how shall you play the game here? Do you tell me what you want? Do you dare to reveal what it is that you're after? Or will you- that thought is cut short as he feels her turn that hand to a sharp pressure point between neck and shoulder and while that would normally make him tighten his grip out of reflex she follows with a push to his head that nearly knocks it into his own arm before he lets it drop. Jadzia quickly moves, using his momentum, palm to his shoulder, forcing that turn that nearly off balances him. Her strength is far greater not hindered by the heels, far more of her weight thrown into him as he drops her leg, and finds her moving quickly behind him without a waste of movement. There is a moment when instinct borne out of surprise wars with a careful consciousness of the situation. He hesitates, not daring to show too much of his fighting ability when the encounter has yet to turn murderous ,and it is that hesitation which causes him to be shoved forward hard. He catches himself on his own door, finding her flush to his back before he can turn around.
Garak cannot help the initial moment of tension, once more indecision staying his hand. He's pleasantly surprised not to find that d'k tahg to his throat or between his ribs. Instead it is only her hands and he sees a missed opportunity for a wrist lock as well. Ah, no murderous intent as of yet then. Really, Elim, you'd almost deserve it for how carried away with yourself you'd gotten. In all the commotion, in all this back and forth you stopped paying attention to the stairs, and the hallway might be straight, but you can't see beyond two feet into the stairwell with the last turn to this hallway. But then again, why would there be anyone else? In spite of his doubt he doesn't allow himself to dismiss that instinct even when she eases up just enough to wrap her arms around him, under his own, easily undoing the large buttons of his vest, starting to work the smaller ones of the white shirt beneath. Her mouth is back at the shell of his ear with that shiver inducing heat.
"I think you can hear me well enough now." She undoes another button. "What you have, Garak, is a book that you borrowed. And I'd just like an opportunity to win it back." Two more buttons join their fellow and he appreciates the consideration to his clothing.
"Surely you don't think I would refuse to return a book you've loaned me."
Her hands catch a button and she answers him just as easily as she rips the remaining buttons to be met with a slow internal sigh. He'll have to mend that later.
"Oh I don't doubt your sincerity, Garak," she lies prettily, "But I think you've forgotten you even have it so the name wouldn't ring a bell I'm sure." Her hands run up his chest and he feels a hard squeeze to his pectorals that's just enough finger digging hard pressure to feel beautiful. He allows a slow closed eyed breath as she squeezes, as she lets her hands worship his skin, kneading those muscles, her hot body pressed back to his even warm through the fabric of the vest. Her nails rake slowly, deeply and he growls.
"Cardassians don't forget anything," he answers automatically, obstinately calling her on the lie. She pinches a nipple hard and he hisses, head nearly banging to the door. She presses her hips into him, an intimate if functionally useless gesture. Nonetheless, he rocks back against her with a slight turn of his head starting to pant, and he almost believes then that he very well might lose.
"Then what's in it for me... should I acquiesce to your wager?"
He hears a breathlessness in her voice that doesn't sound feigned.
"What you want more than anything, Garak. Information." She twists, she rocks into him again, letting her nails scrape over his stomach down, down, and he catches his foot before he steps out and spreads a leg. Information. What he wants to know. The book and questions and answers and he knows that there has to be some Gul's damn trap but he's so close to...
"I'd have all your secrets, my dear," he promises feeling her mouth play his neck again tongue a soft trill as he swears her nails scrape below his navel almost hard enough to draw blood.
"Three wishes... just like a genie, Garak." Three wishes. Three questions. And much like the fabled human djinn you too are a creature of mischief and trickery. He laughs softly and nods his head in agreement.
"My, such an elaborate game for one misplaced treatise on human slang, but I agree... if only because you are such an enchanting librarian."
Garak takes a deep breath, focusing inward, letting that physical distraction fall away until he is focused on the door, the metal pocket door with the four large knobs locking it tightly shut.
"But if you would be so kind as to cover your eyes while I open the door. I shall greatly miss your tender ministrations but as some would say, these are troubled times and one can never be too careful." Garak feels her let go and can practically feel her smirk as she steps besides him so he can see her turn around, eyes covered. He is quick and precise with the memorized motions, thankful they are soundless as each is turned to its right position and the door slowly releases from its locked position. "Open sesame," he declares somewhat dramatically before sliding the door the rest of the way seeing her laugh from behind covered eyes. "Ah but alas, he declares as he enters the darkened room to light a candle on the desk. "It would seem all the treasure has been absconded with." Garak turns to her in mock outrage as she enters. "Surely I've been had by your wily treachery!"
Jadzia smirks, taking a few steps in not having bothered to retrieve her shoes. Another strike in favor of one soon to follow them.
"And do you also have an older brother, Cassim?" Garak decides to light one more candle to fully appreciate the sight, setting the match in a small jar of sand before turning back to her with a grin.
"I have an older brother," he lies easily. "Perhaps someday I might tell you his name as well but as for right now..." Garak shrugs off the vest and neatly folds it on the chair. "Once more I seem to be at a disadvantage." Jadzia slides the door carefully, seeming to study the mechanism for a moment, before letting it shut completely. At least it appears to have shut but he doesn't hear the clicks and only has a moment's debate before she is on him again. Jadzia pushes the shirt from his shoulders, placing a foot over the fabric so he can't pick it back up.
"I never promised to play fair now, did I?" Her eyes dance, muted blue in the light matching that slightly smudged lipstick brilliantly. No, he supposes she didn't at that.
"Neither did I." Garak doesn't wait to see the shock register. He imagines it perfectly as he ducks just a moment and lifts her over his shoulder just quickly enough for the short carry to the bed thankful that it's quite low to the floor. He drops her unceremoniously but holds back, not immediately following. Not exactly anyway. Garak kneels between her legs, but not on the bed, no. He knows exactly how he's going to win this one. He unfastens the garters quickly, easily, and when she sits up to look, he pushes her back down, the first time, surprise alone tempering her reaction time. By the second time she sits up, he knows she'll be ready to catch his wrist but he's already moved the greatest obstacle and as he places his hands on her knees, holding her legs apart, he can smell her scent so strongly he once again nearly gives into the silly adolescent desire to evert, to allow that full arousal to bloom, the hang heavy and aching, drawing that moment out until he can hardly stand it. It's already uncomfortable- that constraint, that pressure responding to her heat, to the smell of her sex- and he dips his head, catches his breath so that it doesn't overtake him. She looks down at him but not before giving a quick look over his shoulder to the door the he doesn't miss.
"What are you-" Garak doesn't allow that sentence to finish, mouth already to the inside of her thigh leaving no question as to what exactly it is that he's doing. He doesn't yet hear any footsteps but if it is in fact Doctor Bashir who will be joining them he knows he likely won't hear a thing regardless. Well Elim, there's no point in just sitting here idle now is there? You have a guest to entertain and it would be terrible manners to leave her unsatisfied with your company. After all, you do have a bet to win, don't you? Garak smirks against her skin as he sucks hard, fingers hooking into the band of the blue dyed lace tugging gently. He looks up at her on his knees, from where he kneels between her spread legs and her expressions clearly says she hadn't expected this particular tact. He sees her lick her lips as if she's unsure whether the pleasure is worth the risk of the loss, but that alone will confirm for him if that truly was the plan all along or just a clever diversion. Her lip worries just briefly between teeth as he tugs again needing just that small bit of cooperation to proceed. He sees her eyes almost go to the door once more before she squirms just a bit as he places another sharp bite to the inside of her thigh to help make up her mind. It's enough, his mouth moving closer, further up and with another tug she lifts up, letting him pull that thin fabric off, her right leg bending, letting him stretch the garment over and off it. Perfect.
"I thought I told you, my dear Jadzia, that I am a very cunning linguist."
