Note: This was initially going to be a double update (I know you wouldn't know if I didn't tell you but oh well) since it would've worked best to post Julian's part at the same time. That being said I'll either post that before next Sunday or make that the double. Either way Julian's POV in this scene coming soon. This part is definitely where the M rating comes in and also a warning for alien anatomy as well. It ran a tad long but it was fun to write and well sorry not sorry lol. Thanks to everyone reading, C&C always welcome.
It isn't long before Garak catches sight of Doctor Bashir slowly insinuating himself into the room. He doesn't sense him- he has yet to determine if that is going to be one of the three questions he asks Jadzia since she very well may not know- but rather he sees him reflected on the surface of the small mirror positioned between the tall bookcase and his bed. There are in fact a series of discreetly placed glasses for him to observe every corner of the room no matter which direction he faces. He has had a sneaking suspicion ever since the work was done in his room and a few of his papers were slightly off that he is being watched. He decided against a full sweep of the room instead choosing to temper his actions lest he give himself away. It's always far better, after all, to control the flow of information that one's observer receives.
The action is quick, discreet, and goes unnoticed. It also makes him acutely aware that he cannot, under any circumstances, afford to let himself be swept away by lust. His finger hooks her panties off her other leg. That glimpse was a fleeting thing caught before his position once more blocked all from his view but her. The position is the worst it could possibly be for him, he realizes, angry with himself that he so neatly, so stupidly fell into such a trap. Of course it would be a simple matter to turn, to catch Doctor Bashir red handed so to speak, but the last thing he wants to do is alert either of them to his awareness of the situation. No, that would be quite sloppy indeed. The more they underestimate him, the easier for his own movement and so he allows himself for the next few moments- counting off in his head so he does not lose track of the seconds- to simply add to the rouse.
It's hardly a difficult feat. Her skin is soft, the heat between her thighs heating him up as well no matter how he might try to shove it off to the side. He is a professional, but he is still a creature of flesh, and blood, and a want that's decided to remind him that it has not been indulged in an obscenely long time. Garak shifts, hearing her breath intake as his tongue lightly tickles a trail, close, closer, enough so that he can feel the soft short hair brush the side of his face as he nears the juncture of her thigh. He can feel the tension in her legs; he feels her holding back the desire to squeeze her thighs together. He feels the slight buck of her hips insistent beneath his grip and that poorly contained desire makes him suspect that she knew she'd little chance of winning. A good bluff then but I can smell it, I can feel you're already so close. You have such a delightfully responsive body it doesn't lie.
Garak lets his breath ghost over the heat of her slit and hears her bite back a cry finding such a controlled action to be out of place with what he's observed of her character so far. Garak thinks quickly, recalling the position of every glass in the room determining if there is any way he can see what the doctor is attempting. Of course you wouldn't want to startle him with a sound he's not expecting now, would you? He breaths out again hard, hot, hearing another bitten back whimper and he feels a hand to the back of his head restrained, tense, fingers awkwardly twisting in his hair, and there's another push of her hips up insistently followed by a soft "please… right there…" It's spoken stilted as if around a finger, and that thought of those pretty full lips of her biting back another cry nearly makes him forget the doctor's presence as he dips forward just those few more measured centimeters. Garak lets his tongue flit softly, teasing, feeling that grip to his scalp tighten painfully in answer as she swears under her breath some Klingon epithet he's heard only a few times before. And certainly not under these circumstances.
Garak smiles even as he strains to hear any sound from behind not doubting that Doctor Bashir is remaining perfectly quiet. Garak imagines his hurried rifle through the books. He does not think he could hear the sound of the drawer slide open, the metal casters still far too well maintained, even were it not for Jadzia's heavy breaths. Exaggerated? He licks again just a little harder higher, not quite hitting where she needs it most, moving slowly, letting himself get nearer knowing his tongue still dances around just near enough to be at the edges of that heightened response radius. Garak can feel her get wetter as he works, that slick salty sweet coating his tongue. He dares release one thigh, knowing her leg may give him the opening he needs to see depending on how she moves, and that quick draw up, heel pressed to the bed splayed open wider almost allows him to see with a subtle turn of his head, a fast dart of his eyes, that mirror reflecting Doctor Bashir's every move dead center except…
Except there is no movement that he observes. Doctor Bashir appears perfectly still. But he's not bent over the desk. He's not sifting through drawers, or trying to pick the lock of the chest that Garak had purchased to store some of his more sensitive documents. He's watching them. Garak recalls perfectly even with that all too quick look that position, carefully out of the angle to cast a shadow on the wall that might betray his presence. But it's that deliberate choice of spot that places him best within the view of the glass, of course only one clever enough to stand where the light won't betray his presence would be worth observing after all. And Doctor Bashir most certainly is that. That all too brief observation showed such an intensity to that still stare from across the room. He held nothing in his hand, his hand in fact stopped, fingers resting at the hollow of his throat, the tension palpable and Garak could imagine then a slow swallow, a shaking breath, and that thought comes to him before he can call it back; the thought that he may be watching them with some perverse voyeuristic pleasure.
But then who is it that he watches? There would be an equal appeal in either or even both depending on the man and Garak has had so precious little contact to make that determination without error. Precious little with the doctor but precious lots with Jadzia. Mmm… precious indeed. Garak has never found any particular dignity, any particular finesse or audial music to the squelching sticky sex sounds, but there is, he must admit, a guttural appeal in each suck to her wet soft folds followed by a successively louder gasp, a kneading of his scalp, his neck, Jadzia applying just a little more insistent force until his lips meet that small swollen nub. He starts soft, slow, hearing a bitten back scream that turns to a full blown near panicked mantra of his name when he lets his tongue press harder, when he lets just the barest graze with his teeth before slowly drawing in, beautiful moan drawn out longer, and he can swear he feels a slight tremor to the floor beneath him, a drop behind him that causes her to sit bolt upright and barely avoid looking directly behind him.
She doesn't quite slip that far instead looking down at him with that bite of her lip that belongs on a much younger woman but appears even so completely captivating.
"Garak…" she breathes out his name- he hasn't had the luxury of his own name in enough years that to hear it spoken now in such a sex infused sound makes him nearly giddy- and he lifts his head meeting her expression levelly, sure not to display any disadvantage. Her toes, covered in that woven black fishnet playfully touch his shoulder as she lets go of him sitting back on her hands, only letting a brief slip of her eyes over his shoulder. Not bad for an amateur. It might almost be missed by anyone else.
"That is my name," he agrees cheekily, letting his fingers lightly stroke her, satisfied when her brows knit together with just that little wrinkle as she swallows hard. That foot pushes at him playfully for the remark and there's another soft guttural Klingon invective which follows.
"I can't… I can't wait any more." He sees her reach behind, the sound of a zipper clicking down quickly a long trail to where he imagines it ends right at the small of her back. He briefly considers the easier method of removal when she neatly solves the problem by pulling that mass of ruffles over her head. She looks about to toss it over and behind him- he sees a faint jerk of her hand back before she throws it to the foot of the bed. He takes a moment to lament the mistreatment of the fabric but supposes it could very well be pre treated so as not to wrinkle. He certainly hopes so in- Oh by the State, you impotent old fool you will absolutely not, I refuse to allow you such a banal consideration now of all times.
Garak blinks. That brief self-recrimination makes him all too aware that the woman looking down at him now is naked save for the garter belt and stockings. He rather likes the stockings. They're well made. That's the last clothing related thought he allows himself. Ever, he vows. Garak takes in with a mostly steady breath- that upward angle that makes her breasts full, heavy, both bearing a trail of spots down either side, loom larger in his vision- and he allows a long appreciative stare and an absent lick of his lips considering that Doctor Bashir may just find himself with all the time in the world to search for that book. You won't find it either. Welcome to my world, Doctor, a beautiful world of lies, misdirection, and most of all obfuscation blacker than Enabran Tain's dark little pit of a heart. But you may look. You may look to your own heart's content before slinking out striking thief that you are.
And he is striking; quite painfully so, really. Jadzia's shift once more lets him glimpse the mirror sidelong as he pretends to ponder yet another breathless entreaty, rising up as if he might in fact acquiesce. That look gives him a far more clear picture and he sees Doctor Bashir on his knees, halfway to a soft silent crawl to the chest. But where he should see the doctor's backside from a frantic fiddling with the lock instead he sees him staring hard, those full lips parted, panting, a notebook that he likely thinks his clutched hard to his chest. Garak might be disappointed in his inability to recognize a fake when the book in question is his own but when he considers the reason, he supposes he must make an allowance for an amateur where certain distractions are concerned. He sees long fingers again fidgeting with the open collar of his shirt and he sees those hazel eyes wide, almost glassy eyed in their stare though he cannot be certain of the intended recipient.
Garak quickly turns back to Jadzia, a smirk painting his face- as his classmates at the Institute would say disdainfully- at his own cleverness. He keeps that small joke to himself, letting Jadzia think what she will.
"Oh but my dear Jadzia," he all but purrs, voice low, sinful as he can manage as he lets his fingers dance so lightly, watching her tense once more. "I haven't yet won our little wager." And he sees her process that, open her mouth as if she might protest, might call the entire bet off but he does not allow her that luxury. Instead, Garak takes that instant to slide two fingers inside slow, deliberately, feeling her hot body welcoming that intrusion, her voice making the most delectable breath stopping series of soft hitching cries, the mattress bouncing lightly as she falls back to it with a soft arch of her body. He revels in that sight. Yes, there are devices, there are toys, there are the most inventive and elaborate substitutes ever devised by the most perverse of minds but short of a holosuite there is no comparison to… That thought trails off as he lets his fingers press deeper giving a slight turn, a slight angle feeling her softness drawing him in, her body clenching around him, fluid seeping out over his knuckles in a lustful sluice. Jadzia's body twists slightly, to the right and he can see her squirm, feel her push back against him, her hands clutching the sheets twisting them, her hips a steady rhythm seeking more and as her left leg twists her knee hits the side of his head carelessly and he hardly thinks he'll even need to do much work on his own to achieve success.
But Garak has always been industrious and never content to merely skirt by with the bare minimum. Especially when the bare maximum is bared for him in such a beautiful feast for the eyes and ears, breathless voice climbing higher the harder he pushes his fingers into her. She's close. And unbeknownst to her so is he. Garak shifts on his knees, the pins and needles from the staunched flow of blood nowhere near the distraction he needs. That blood flow is all too content to flow furiously to other more insistent areas of his anatomy. He can feel the tightness in his groin- feel that pulse, that swell, that need to let go, to release, to ease that Gul's damned pressure building until he thinks he may no longer have a conscious choice in the matter. He only barely resists the urge to press a hand between his legs. He knows whatever momentary respite would only multiply that need tenfold and he swallows a breath, gasping, retraining his thoughts on her, face buried back to her wetness, greedily messily lapping until he feels those motions of her hips grow more frantic.
Garak matches her pace, mouth moving in tandem with his fingers, buried knuckles deep, allowing only for a moment the thought of what comes next. The knowledge that he's so close to that hand being his cock, his mouth on her breasts that he shuts his eyes tightly knowing that only heightens his sense of smell, touch, makes that promise all too vividly real when she screams his name again. The rawness of her voice temporarily robs him of his cognizance of the third man in the room; the loud smack of her hands to the mattress jars him back to her and her alone. And the piece de resistance- some expression subset human language somehow subsumed into Federation Standard- is that splash of fluid to his face a hot musk that he swallows messily long swipes of his tongue following the withdraw of his fingers, Jadzia's body still trembling, shaking as he sits back on his heels.
Garak looks up at her, quite self satisfied as he laps her essence from the tips of his fingers to where it runs down the inside of his wrist.
"I believe that is my victory, my dear," he says watching her sit up almost dazed. Her attempt at a pout is nicely undermined by the flush of her face and her messy hair.
"I thought Cardassians were lizards, not cats," she remarks watching his mouth, her own fingers brought to her lips in a near sensual mimicry. Garak shrugs.
"I find both animals to have their charms but-"
'But are you so sure that you've won?" she questions shrewdly sitting up fully with a slight back and forth sway. Garak cannot help but feel a boost to his ego at her state of disrepair.
And her question is a fair one. He could feel himself toward the end slipping, grasping for that careful center of control. He found it- albeit it barely- but the point stands that he is the victor and he stands, knees cracking as he straightens his legs unfolding with as much grace as he can manage.
"I take it I'm required to provide visual proof?" His hands are already on the top button of his tan trousers as she looks up with a sparkle.
"It would only be sporting," she agrees leaning over. "If you don't mind," she adds, taking over the task. He doubts she would stop even if he did mind.
"Far be it for me to deny the judging panel their inquest." She sticks her tongue out at him childishly, hands easily working the button and another of those metal zippers.
"Well, it looks like I've lost a second wager," she remarks upon seeing his undergarments.
"Dare I ask against whom?" His voice is just a bit breathless as her fingers brush the skin covering his hip bones, slowly drawing down both fitted boxers and trousers.
"Is that your first question?" She teases back revealing that true to his word he is still very much painfully concealed. Before he can answer, she leans forward and feather light presses her lips to that tight sensitive skin, bulged out, letting that trail maddeningly trace up at least half his covered length before coming to that half engages wet split, grey skin parted to pink, flushed almost dark maroon with desire. Garak draws a shaking breath, head dropped forward as he watches her, unable to hide that unsteady amused quirk of his mouth.
"You are... a wicked... woman..." he drops his hands to her shoulders almost as if to push her away. Yet there they remain even as his vision swims and she laughs softly, letting her breath heat hot nearly making him start that slow release in spite of himself.
"Can't blame a gal for trying," she answers with a soft laugh. And he sees her lips continue to move only a minuscule amount-they remain almost still and he can only assume she speaks primarily with motions of her tongue so as to disallow him reading her words where he cannot hear them- as he feels her speak something else before she dips forward again. Her hands hold his hips as she seals her mouth to that slit and with a slow strong, cheeks hollowed suck, draws his cock into that warm waiting pallette. Garak nearly feels his knees buckle, almost thinks that the sensation will be more than he can handle as he shuts his eyes, sense blind to sight, sound, smell, everything that isn't her mouth engulfing every inch of him that everts. It's almost painful- he thinks it may even cross the line at points- that hypersensitive skin being caressed sliding over her tongue, dipping, bending just slightly down her throat. Jadzia doesn't stop either, a tilt of her head, a steady breath out until he can feel his entire length held tightly. His eyes snap open at the ceiling of the room that seems almost too bright as he pants, gasps, likely even swears before she draws her head back and he's nearly tempted to ask where she ever learned to do that.
It's distracting. It's so Gul's damn distracting, his head still light, his exposed cock aching so desperately to couple that he nearly misses that secondary move of her lips and he knows without a doubt that she's speaking to Doctor Bashir behind him. And there you tip your hand, my dear. I think it's time that we take a look at the good doctor properly and- And she somehow reads that intent or else this is her intention all along. Jadzia's body shifts, her foot catching behind his just as his head starts to turn behind and he finds himself on his back, breath nearly but not quite to being knocked out of him with her straddling on top. His entire body is taut. He has to viciously tamp down the instinct to go for the knife still strapped to her thigh before she does. She doesn't however and he realizes that just as soon as he realizes the noise was a perfect cover for any motion Doctor Bashir might have made. Garak also realizes that without being able to sense the doctor's presence the man could be hiding in the closet for all he knows. So Garak instead looks at her, knowing her eyes will give that position better than he can deduce without sitting up and wildly turning his head like a buffoon.
"Normally I'd return the favor but... I don't think either of us really wants to wait, do you?" Jadzia smiles down at him looking just a touch too triumphant- a small nod of her head behind him telling him all he needs to know about what Doctor Bashir thinks he has- and he almost hates to ruin that victorious smirk. But before he can reveal that little bit of information for the both of them to hear, he catches sight of her eyes flicker briefly, still behind his head and it's a wonder that Doctor Bashir has yet to move.
"It seems you have me at a disadvantage," Garak remarks instead as she shifts, sliding up his body just enough that he can feel the heat of her sex meet his and it's a damn good distraction, his cock all too happy to divert him from the larger mission at hand. She looks almost distracted for a moment, worried, until her eyes dart to the side as if watching a mouse skitter back to hiding away from the prowling feline. Her head drops low, those eyes flickering so rapidly one might think they imagined it but he knows that not to be the case. The doctor has finally made his move.
"Not just a disadvantage, Garak. you lose."
Jadzia moans softly, whether contrived or not it hardly matters when he feels her thighs tighten around his waist and feels the slow slip, as she tilts her hips, of the tip of his cock angling to bury deep inside her and his head tips back, breaths coming more rapid, more shallow, hands finding purchase on her hips just in time for her to roll them, allowing him to feel the action initiated by him, clearing the way where one might quickly step around shielded by noise and confusion to a hasty escape. Except of course that Garak sees him even with his eyes locked to hers. He catches the sight just into his peripheral vision in another previously inaccessible mirror as Doctor Bashir so gracefully dances to the door with a careful slide opening it. Lingering, watching, eyes boring hard, mouth half slack and Garak sees one false swipe with that diverted attention that makes him smile wide looking down at her. It was a fun little game while it lasted, my dear children, but playtime is over. And now it's Garak's turn to bring his lips to her ear, softly purring in a low deadly voice even as her foot teases his hip, her body still flush, open to him so eagerly.
"Be sure and tell the good doctor that he has the wrong book."
She sucks in a breath that she cannot quite call back. Garak expects her to stiffen beneath him, to call an end to the encounter, any number of things but what she does next.
"Is that all I should tell Julian?" she challenges with a soft arch, that foot moving to the small of his back, urging him closer, urging him inside her. Garak's answer is a feral grin in return as he enters her fast and hard.
"Tell our dear Julian that next time he wants to come in, he should ask me himself."
