Note: Yeah it's kinda late and I'm not sure if I should apologize for sacrificing some plot advancement for more uh... doing it... ahem. Anyway, he thought came to me and I couldn't help myself so maybe sorry not sorry? back to Garak/Jadzia with a twist at the end because we can't just leave it there now, can we? Thank you all for reading and commenting and I promise this will keep consistent with plot and not devolve into one long porn with plot thing.


The second attack came three days later as the shore of the West Continent came into view. This time it had been two of them at dawn, rousing Garak from a rather warm cocoon of blankets and Julian. Julian who hadn't let him out of his sight since the first attack. Julian who'd been on him like a madman once the dust settled, once he was assured that Garak was alive. Garak, of course could not have planned it better if the attack were some elaborate machination on his part. Alas, much as he would like to assume the credit for Julian's newfound protective obsession- just as he had reasoned past experience would easily erect it- it was a matter of pure chance which he took complete advantage of. Yes, wouldn't do to have another lover die on you so soon now would it? Such a burden, such a thing to bear, my poor Julian, you'd never forgive yourself. I can only imagine the guilt you must feel for suggesting this mode of travel knowing that Molly had detoured a priceless Mithril run cargo still in tow before the drop. Yes, every pirate on Westworld is likely gunning for this ship right now.

Julian hadn't realized it at the time, however he surely must have imagined the girl would drop everything at his request; at least that was the impression that Garak had gotten which only fueled his suspicions. Whatever the cause, fear the most likely, Julian had seemed possessed when he had finally emerged from the hatch, careful to wait for Keiko to rejoin the huddled mass of Starfleet waiting in the main room holding the rails as the ship rocked. At least that was the image Garak had called to mind as he stood there listening to sound of his own breathing, counting backwards from a hundred. That was her game, she informed him. She would spend the remainder of the trip with them, with their cause, until she could find the information that she needed. He was thankful that there'd been precious little use of his eyesight was required. He would be glad to get to bed and remove the patch for the night, already far too long.

Ah, but then there had been Julian as he'd come up, not content to wait, not content to let him get in a word edgewise as a matter of fact. Julian had pressed him hard against the wall, breathing heavily against his neck how terrified he'd been, how surely close to death they'd both come, how sorry he was for this mess, and how he just needed to feel him. Garak had certainly felt him, had felt his body quivering against his, had felt the sweat, the heat, as Julian ground into him, mouth at his ear, at the ridges of his neck until he was purring in half a trance. He'd allowed Julian's mouth to nip his throat, allowed those hands to undress, to rip, to give pulls painful to his tailor's senses with hardly a care for the door of that small room containing the hatch to the shields. Garak hadn't a care for the door either, considering its potential unlocked state only for a moment before he was snarling, tugging back at Julian's hair, only content to remain docile for so long. He remembers so vividly that feel of Julian's hard lean body grinding against his, the hands heedless for once of their own strength trapping his wrists tightly as he-

"Garak?" He blinks a few times, coming fully back into the present. He realizes as he does that he's been staring at the same page of the Federation History now for far longer than he should have, that reminiscing making his mouth dry. Behind him there's a faint rustle of clothing, Jadzia having declared her intention to slip into something more comfortable than the Starfleet Uniform she'd been wearing the last few days. He couldn't imagine what could possibly be more comfortable than the glorified pajamas that were the Starfleet uniform, but he had a hunch that her statement was some quaint idiom for a different type of wardrobe. Regardless, Garak had nobly taken a seat, back to her as he feigned perusal of that large tome, mind drifting to the events of the last few days. There were just a few details to shore up but he'd hardly had a moment alone to properly think.

He'd shown the Ferengi, Nog, how to play Kotra with an oddly improvised set. He'd learned the ins and outs of the ship thanks to Molly's enthusiastic tour. He'd been sure to properly educate the waspish Commander Farris on the finer points of Cardassian courtship lest she be misinterpreted in future diplomatic encounters; Jadzia had been quite amused by that one. He'd also kept an eye on Mr. Nog's somewhat clandestine paramour, a nagging suspicion about that one that he just couldn't seem to shake. Julian had accused him- whenever he wasn't trying to keep him perpetually in bed- of being overly paranoid, an accusation Garak found offensive in its hypocrisy. Nonetheless, he'd been afforded precious little chance for scheming, and he was beginning to suspect that Julian had intended it to remain that way.

After all, he refused to discuss the matter of his previous incarceration, his agreement with Watters, anything you asked of him. No, it was nothing but redirecting, but more amorous distraction, and while pleasant, he certainly cannot expect you to fall into his arms as his previous paramours and forget all of your troubles and cares. Garak snorts at that thought and closes the book, making a note of the page he was on. Ah, but speaking falling into someone's arms and forgetting your troubles... Garak turns around when he begins to feel rather than see the impatient tap of a foot behind him.

"My, I have been an awfully rude guest, now haven't I?" he asks, giving an appropriately long drag of his eyes up and down her body as she walks towards him barefoot.

The room is warm, and he can tell it's purely for his benefit, her skin already wearing a thin sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on her face. He rather likes the dewy appearance that it gives as he counts those lovely spot down, losing track at a hundred and something or other. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he does not so much "lose" count as he decides that counting it a waste of his newly regained ocular prowess and the freedom from that infernal eyepatch. No, it is a much better use of that attention to watch the curve or her body beneath that white slip that he'd only glimpsed the other night beneath that robe. The robe however is hardly needed in the hot- or what Garak would call comfortable- room and he watches appreciative of the slip and slide of that pearlescent cloth on its own merit. Sensual though it is, he also does not doubt that it is in fact quite comfortable.

"Well, Julian has been keeping you all to himself these past few days, I guess it's only natural that you're still a bit distracted." her eyes twinkle as she sits on the edge of the bed, knees not quite close enough to meet his as she leans in. From anyone else, it might seem a contrived flirtation, the position leaving a delightful look, a peek down to anyone who would seize it to more smooth, spotted skin. However Garak has learned that her body language is refreshingly free of such ulterior motive now that he's gotten to know her so well, and tempted as he is, his attention remains on her eyes. "I know he wouldn't let you out of his sight so easily," she teases, and he finds a faint shiver through his own thin green cotton pajamas coursing through him. Not nerves, certainly not nerves for being so easily figured out, he tells himself. It is only natural that she learn your habits, your mannerisms, the way you think. You've let her in, you've let her see it, her, Julian, you've no one to blame for such vulnerability but yourself, Elim.

But vulnerable as he is for allowing such familiarity, she in turn is no different, and he is counting on that innate sense of trust built up from her end to allow him to see this through now. But how much do you tell her, Elim? Do you tell her that you drugged him? That you spent part of the preparation for the trip working up the carefully measured doses of the sedative taking into account Julian's weight, height, metabolism until you were sure you had an effective dose? Ah, but does she then wonder who else you might have taken such pains to incapacitate? And then does she believes your reasons? Your lies? She might at that. She's honest, with little affinity for deception. She is not so foolish to believe all others to be the same but she also believes that she knows you and she will want to believe to maintain that illusion.

Which of course brings him to the present, to a hand placed on her knee as he too leans in conspiratorially and meets her halfway. You need to get her, Elim. You've got the doctor, you've got Julian, damn noble Julian who you now know is here to destroy the Kironide so that neither the Federation nor the Union can touch it. But you can't allow that, not when you've come so far, not when your ability to just go home depends on it. How many years were you on Terok Nor? On Bajor? How many decades away only to come home at the end of the Occupation and find yourself barely clinging to your station. No, whatever it takes, whatever you have to do, Lok's agents are getting that Kironide if you have you slit every last one of their-

"I'm worried about Julian," Garak says, the words coming easily. It isn't hard to feign the proper emotion. After all, it is an entirely honest sentiment drug out of context and beaten back into beautiful submission for his own purposes.

He makes sure he keeps looking at her, using that hand to measure the tension of her body where the rest of her may be false. So far she remains steady. Instead her foot slides forward, the other leg, the right, the side of that soft foot brushes his ankle, lifting up the leg of his pajamas to tease bare skin. Her hands remain on the bed, that look not breaking with his.

"Should I be worried about Julian?" she asks, that concern naked in her eyes such a stunning display of contradiction to the toes that tease around his ankle, slipping that fabric up his leg until it reaches the end of its circumference. Garak lets his hand slide up a scant few centimeters.

"You should be very worried about Julian, my dear," he agrees, taking a momentary pause, savoring that feel of her foot, the light scratch of a nail carefully rounded and smoothed. He can already start to sense her arousal, her heat, no doubt exacerbated by the temperature, but already that faint desire swirling around his olfactory senses.

"Do you know what Julian is planning to do once we arrive on the continent?" Garak asks, dropping his voice, a strange part of him suddenly doubting his calculations of the sedative as he speaks. He feels the muscle of her thigh tense beneath his fingers, and he lets them stroke, more inward just a touch towards that sensitive artery. Her eyes drop down than a rapid blink up, the quick pull of her lower lip beneath her teeth with a sweet small suck of breath. He feels her foot drop that fabric so that it might trail higher, brushing past his kneecap. Garak's pulse quickens as he watches her mouth and finds that there's a base thought running parallel to his current agenda as he can practically taste that longing as he recalls the feel of her mouth, hot, wanting around his-

"Julian tells me everything," Jadzia answers back with a soft rush of breath. He is as aroused as he is curious to when such details passed between the two of them.

Ah, but with Julian's talent for silent movement, it would be far easier for him to slip from your sex induced sleep than the other way around. For all you know that's the entire point of his newly found obsession with fornication. That is to say that while Garak is perfectly confident in his ability to satisfy a lover his ego is not so strong that he cannot conceive Julian may in fact have an ulterior motive for the past few days' behavior. But then again, he couldn't have foreseen my finding my way here before we land. As close as it is, it may never have come to pass if the issue wasn't forced, if this latest attack hadn't pulled that desperate death driven drive to rut like an animal, if Julian hadn't been careless. But as far as Garak is concerned no matter how it works out in the end, that result is all that matters. He smiles back at Jadzia, letting his expression speak for itself as he continues to caress her thigh, finding her foot feeling blindly until those questing digits begin brushing insistently right near-

"Julian doesn't think I should trust you Garak," she tells him with a small little press of her big toe. He breathes in deeply, slowly, a flick of his tongue to the thick air allowing him to most definitely taste her-

"Julian isn't thinking clearly right now." He moves his hand, pushing the silky slip up higher, having such a strong insistent feeling that she's not wearing any-

"Julian just wants you all to himself." Her foot strokes him, coaxing, just begging him to let go and just feel the tip of his aching-

"Julian has not... expressed that desire to me..." Garak watches the slight drop of her eyelids, the parting of her lips panting as he allows his hips to rock, to push back against that foot with a soft hiss, his hand exploring further, fingers dancing up the inside of her thigh until he can almost touch her-

"That's why I opened the door for you tonight."

That's why... Ohhh... Oh of all the ridiculous nonsense, of all the completely improbable, insane, ridiculous scenarios that he'd envisioned, surely some heated sexual rivalry with him at the center was not it. He can feel his pulse throb, he can feel with that thought, with the way her mouth hangs slack, dry, lips not even wet as an afterthought between her heavy breaths, he can tell that it's not a bluff. It's not a con even if everything else were somehow lying. Guls, this couldn't be more perfect an opportunity and as the tops of his fingers reveal with slick, hot certainty that she is not in fact wearing anything under that slip, he decides that whatever the damn outcome he's going to enjoy this to its fullest.

"I need you... to help me... save Julian," Garak gasps, Jadzia's foot moving back, causing an involuntary eversion, just the tip, just that small questing bit seeking, needing, and he sees the strap slip from her right shoulder with an artful little arch just begging him to-

"Show me..." he can see spots trailing teasing down the top, around the fullness of her breast, her hands pulling that slip up past her hips and he can see just how ready she is for- "the plan..." Yes of course, the plan, the plan that will leave the lot of them stranded in the desert to phone home as it were while he dances home with a ship full of Kironide and- And he really ought to be making sure that he has the details in line to be sure she believes him to be completely on her side, on Julian's side for this neat little double cross. It's unconscious, it's automatic, he's rehearsed it enough times, he tells himself that it's really not necessary to think about it so insistently when she takes the takes the lapels of his top and tugs, his own hands back to tugging the drawstrings open, tugging the bottoms, his undergarments down past his hips with an awkward wriggle as he half stands, half falls on top of her.

"Yes..." he agrees eagerly, as the two of them half wriggle crawl shuffle something up the length of the bed. Her thighs parting, knees on his hips, his waist urging him forward, their lips yet to meet, their eyes halfway to completion still locked together just as she decides that the buttons aren't cooperating quickly enough and rips the remaining two. Garak's hands are on her hips without thought, feeling her arch, feeling her push back against him tilting her body with such a beautiful invitation, his cock fully everted, practically flush to his body as angles to just slide right in hard, fast, drilling as deep and marvelously as he possibly can.

"Yes..." Jadzia agrees, hands running over his chest, down his stomach, until she has a hard grip on his flank urging him to move, every sense he possesses nearly making him wild with that desire to-

"Yes Garak," he hears to his left followed by the sound of a chair being slammed to the side of the bed, one Julian Bashir sitting down eyes dark, ominous, as he watches them both. But it's just as he nearly stops, wondering how long Julian was there to witness, that he catches sight of the massive tent of those loose blue pajama bottoms, palmed hard under Julian's skillful hand. He has a feeling his plan has been neatly just blown to bits. He has a feeling he's not about to give a damn. Julian smiles at him wickedly as he speaks, and Garak is sure that were he to look back to Jadzia she'd be doing the same. "...show me."