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‘I just don’t see the appeal,’ Julian said. ‘I mean, I’m not prudish, you know that, I’m very open-minded, I’ll try anything once... I did try it, with one old girlfriend, and it was really a bit rubbish.’
Garak regarded him thoughtfully over the dinner-table, admiring his earnest face, looking ruddy in the lamplight. ‘I would venture to suggest that if you didn’t enjoy it, it wasn’t done properly.’
‘Or I just wouldn’t enjoy that sort of thing anyway.’
‘Tell me why you didn’t enjoy it. What about it was unpleasant?’
‘I felt a bit stupid, I suppose. Self-conscious. As if we were just trying too hard. She got dressed up for it, you know, wearing a corset and big boots, and it seemed artificial because usually she was a cotton knickers and one of my teeshirts girl. And I just felt silly, and worried the whole time that she was going to muck it up and injure me in some very delicate place, especially since I’d just learned about penile fracture the week before - though in the event I couldn’t stay hard for long anyway, I was so nervous and embarrassed, and her feelings were hurt by that.’ He fiddled with his napkin as he talked, folding it into a long strip.
‘Had you discussed beforehand what you wanted to do?’
‘Well, no. I mean, that doesn’t seem very... spontaneous. Or, I don’t know, romantic seems the wrong word.’
‘In my experience, it’s important.’
‘And what is your experience?’ Julian got that archly cunning look that he wore when he thought he was on to something.
‘That would be telling.’ Garak leaned back comfortably, steepling his fingers. ‘To be honest, I’ve thought for some time that it would be just the thing for you - but equally, that it was probably something you hadn’t experienced, or you’d have asked for it early on.’
‘So why is it important? The discussion beforehand?’
‘Because the key to the whole thing is trust. You must feel sure that the other person will take you beyond your usual bounds, in the way you have requested, but no further - that in fact they are taking care of you, even while they may be hurting you as requested, and will stop if you need them to.’
‘Oh, yes, we did set a safety word.’
‘And did you use it, given that you were feeling so uncomfortable?’
‘Well, no, it would have seemed... impolite, I suppose.’
‘You see, the trust wasn’t there. I don’t mean to impugn your relationship with the young lady, I’m sure you were sincerely attached to her, but you simply couldn’t surrender to her, could you?’
‘Well, I think I’ve surrendered to you a fair bit.’ A half-lidded sidelong gaze and a hand on his knee under the table.
‘In some ways, yes. In others, you’ve stayed well within your own... what is that charmless expression? Comfort zone? I’ve complied with that because I do want you to be comfortable, and so much of this is new to you.’
‘I beg your pardon, but letting you stuff your cock up my bum meant going pretty bloody far outside any sort of comfort zone. It was more than worth it, but you know how nervous I was.’
‘Of course. Don’t think I underrate that. But you had full freedom of movement, no restrictions on you in any way. Indeed, you were on top for the first time precisely so that you could control the penetration and take it at your own pace. You were so beautiful, by the way.’ He reached out and briefly stroked Julian’s cheek, a light fond brush with the backs of his fingers. ‘And I would hardly have asked you to let me tie your hands or cover your eyes at that stage. Submission has to be willing and trusting; ask for too much too soon and you spoil everything.’
‘You’d really like it, wouldn’t you.’
‘I’d enjoy it only if you enjoyed it. And as I would hate to spoil this very pleasant little association we have, I won’t press you for anything.’ He took up his glass and drank, as if to put an end to the matter.
Julian was still looking at him thoughtfully, swivelling his chair slightly from side to side, elbow on the table and chin in hand. ‘Just hypothetically,’ he said, ‘what sort of thing were you thinking about doing to me?’
‘Doing for you, my dear.’
‘I like the idea of to me, though.’
‘Oh, do you?’
‘When it’s you, somehow I do.’
‘And that’s interesting, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t just twinkle your eyes at me, answer the question.’
‘Well.’ Garak sipped again, thinking it over. ‘I do like some spontenaiety to remain. A better starting point might be for you to set out your... non-negotiables. What things would you absolutely not want me to do, for any reason? So that I know what to rule out?’
‘Um. Don’t fracture my penis, that’s a big one.’
‘I would never. Well, except completely by accident, and that could happen at any time.’
‘Don’t do anything to hurt my balls.’ Julian raised an admonitory finger.
‘Again, never intentionally. They are almost as precious to me as they are to you.’
‘I highly doubt that. Um... God, I don’t know, I suppose some people do really extreme things like burning and cutting and I absolutely can’t have anything like that. Shall we just say, nothing that breaks the skin?’
‘A reasonable boundary. How do you feel about being restrained, physically confined?’
‘All right, I suppose.’
‘Be entirely honest, please.’
‘Okay. A little bit scared. But interested too.’ A half-smile, shielded by his hand on his face.
‘I know you can cope with being bruised and lightly bitten.’
‘Lightly! That’s rich.’
‘It is lightly, I assure you.’
‘You suck and chew. My shoulders are still a mass of love-bites from last time.’
‘Lightly. And you don’t have to leave them there, you know. They would be the work of a few minutes to heal up.’
‘They’re my souvenirs.’ The half-smile persisted, the eyes were still shadowed, and Julian’s voice had taken on that indulgent, faintly purring tone that he so loved.
‘All right. I assure you, I could give you some lovely souvenirs, even within the stipulation of breaking no skin.’
‘Oh, and I’ve just remembered, no calling me nasty names like bitch or slave.’
‘Dear me, no. But then, how is it that you haven’t objected to the number of times I’ve called you my slut?’
‘Because I know I am a bit. And you say it so affectionately.’
‘Come here, then, please, dearest.’ Garak pushed his chair back from the table and patted his knee. Julian paused just long enough to make it quite clear he wasn’t just being obedient, then got up and moved closer, sitting down straddling Garak’s lap, arms loosely draped around his shoulders. Garak looked up at his face, sliding his hands up Julian’s thighs and over his hips, down and around, stroking his buttocks. He was out of uniform tonight, in a soft midnight-blue suit Garak had made for him, and the trousers were purposely a little loose so that the fabric could shift against his skin; he’d chosen it for its lush texture as well as its colour and drape.
‘Do you want to try those things tonight?’ Julian asked.
‘No. You should have time to think about it, and to change your mind if necessary. When you’re really sure it’s what you want, tell me, and we’ll set aside an evening just for that.’
‘But I’m in a good mood for it now.’ Julian dipped his head to kiss Garak, a soft, slow, exploratory kiss, the lazy movement of his jaw growing a little more insistent. He took Garak’s hand from his hip and guided it to his growing erection, trapped against his inner thigh by his underwear, moaning softly into his mouth as he stroked it, only breaking the kiss to gaze at him with wide dark eyes, hazy with desire.
‘You’re lovely, utterly lovely, but these things really shouldn’t be rushed.’
‘Ohhh...’ Julian pouted. ‘Go on. Don’t be mean.’
‘Can you see the incongruity in trying to boss me into dominating you?’
‘Are you cross with me?’
‘If I were cross I wouldn’t still be rubbing your precious cock.’ Privately, Garak was amused at the way Julian’s language had suddenly turned childish, and wondering if that was something he could safely play around with.
‘I thought if you were cross you might smack my bottom.’
‘Ah, so that’s something you want. Duly noted. For later.’
They didn’t discuss it the next day, because there was really no opportunity to do so. Garak had a gratifyingly busy day in his shop, while Julian was fully occupied treating the injured crew of a newly arrived ship that had had a nasty onboard fire. After that they were both too tired to do more than nod and smile to each other as they passed on the Promenade going home. The following day was their standing lunch date. Julian seemed skittish and nervy to Garak, sitting down and getting back up, darting around stealing condiments from other tables. Finally he half-rose from his chair, told him ‘Sit. Down,’ and put a firm hand on his shoulder to reinforce the instruction. Julian closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to steady, although his cheeks reddened.
‘I’ve been thinking about what we discussed,’ he said as Garak sat back down.
‘The Dahl short stories?’
‘The other thing. The personal thing.’
‘Ah, that thing.’
‘I’ve made up my mind.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’
‘I want to try it.’
‘Good! Well, why don’t you call in to my quarters about nineteen hundred tomorrow evening, and we’ll see what we can do.’ He smiled and went back to his soup.
‘That’s - all?’
‘Well, yes.’
Julian lowered his voice and leaned forward, eyebrows up and forehead crinkled. ‘Is there anything I should bring with me? Or do, to get ready? Or - wear?’
‘Nothing in particular. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of all the preparation at my end. That’s why I suggested tomorrow rather than tonight. I actually would like to discuss those stories, you know. I finished them last night and was most interested. I’d like to know what you think about “Lamb to the Slaughter”.’
At eighteen forty-five the next night, he would describe his mood as pleasantly anticipatory, with just a faint flutter of nerves in the stomach. It was so long since he’d done anything like this, so long since he’d been with a willing partner, that he was conscious of a slight tendency to get over-excited, and knew he had to master that. Julian needed an absolutely steady hand; he felt an almost parental responsibility for his wellbeing in this.
The door chimes went as he was making a final visit to the bathroom, so he was a little delayed in answering. Julian rang twice more before he could get there, and looked ready to bolt when he opened the door.
‘Doctor! Good evening. You’re a little early.’
‘I finished work at seventeen hundred so I’ve just had two hours to sit around getting nervous,’ Julian said, nipping into the room hastily. ‘I had a shower so I’d be nice and fresh for you, but I’m afraid I’ve undone all the good of that by sweating.’
‘It’s all right.’ He put a steadying hand on Julian’s shoulder, glad that he was in his own clothes again; there was so much padding in the shoulders of a Starfleet uniform that you couldn’t really feel the body beneath. ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about at all, I promise. We’ll have dinner together, and get you nice and relaxed before we go any further.’
‘I don’t think I could eat a thing,’ Julian demurred, and went on to eat everything that was set in front of him. Garak kept the conversation light and pleasant, and gradually some of the tension went out of him, although his eyes were still unusually bright and he could not sit quite still. The wine he drank with dinner seemed to help as much as anything, so Garak offered him a liqueur afterwards.
‘Ah, I see the plan. Get me drunk!’
‘Not at all. In fact, if I thought you were drunk I’d be honour bound to call it off for the night. Remember, I said I can only enjoy this if you enjoy it. If I had any doubt about whether you were in a fit state to consent, that would spoil everything. I only want to help you relax.’ Garak guided him over to sit on the sofa and went to fetch the liqueur glasses.
‘I’ve thought of my safety word, by the way.’
‘Excellent! And it is?’
‘Well, actually, I did some reading around the topic and I thought we could use the old traffic-light system from Earth.’
‘I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that,’ Garak admitted, sitting down beside him and giving him his glass.
‘Coloured lights to control traffic movement at intersections. You can still see them in a lot of older cities, though there’s very little ground traffic now. Red means stop, orange means the signal’s about to change to red so be prepared to stop, and green means go.’
‘Ah. So if you say “red,” that means you definitely want me to stop, now. If you said “orange,” that would indicate that you were becoming uncomfortable but weren’t yet sure you wanted to call a halt? Meaning I should ease up, or slow down?’
‘Exactly. And if I then got comfortable again I could tell you “green” to carry on. It’s nice and simple.’
‘I hope I’ll remember it.’
‘Well, green means go is easy because of the alliteration, and doesn’t red mean things like danger and stop in Cardassian symbolism too?’
‘Well, red can mean all sorts of things with you people. You give red roses for true love; they don’t mean stop, do they? Quite the opposite.’
‘If no roses are involved, red means STOP.’
‘Or “command officer”.’
‘Garak!’ Julian said reproachfully.
‘It’s all right, I’m only teasing. Of course I’ll remember. It’s an excellent code.’ Privately he was hoping that one day they’d be able to do without it, but it was a good starting point. ‘What else have you learned in your reading?’
‘Um... well, I realised that Amy and I really didn’t know what we were doing. I mean, we had sort of a surface idea of what people did, but it was missing a lot of detail.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, some people like to play out pre-arranged scenes, with a historical setting or whatever, like being an eighteenth-century sailor getting flogged before the mast. That sounded like a bit much to me.’
‘But you love that sort of thing. You’re always in the holosuite pretending to be people from history.’
‘I mean it’s a bit much for me as a neophyte. I think I need to get used to doing these things just as Julian first. And - are you going to want me to call you Master, or Sir or anything?’
‘No, my dear. I am, as always, plain, simple Garak.’
‘Some people use “Daddy”,’ Julian said, with a nervous laugh and a guilty look that made it quite plain he’d been titillated by the idea. ‘Isn’t that weird!’
‘Not so very weird. I expect they mean it as “beloved authority figure” rather than a reference to their actual fathers. For some people,’ he went on, treading carefully, keeping his voice soothing, ‘adopting the role of a child - not necessarily pretending to be a child - enables them to suspend adult inhibitions that would prevent them enjoying the experience completely. They choose to be as vulnerable and trusting as a child. Calling the dominant person by a parental pet-name is a way to signal that.’ There. Will you give yourself permission now?
‘Still seems a bit weird,’ Julian said, and there was that nervous laugh again. ‘I think I’ll stick to “Garak” for now. Do you, um, I mean, how do we start?’
‘Why, you tell me you’re ready and I take you into my bedroom,’ Garak smiled. He leaned in and kissed Julian’s cheek. ‘If you’re not ready tonight, that’s perfectly all right. I’ve had a lovely evening with you.’
‘I’d sort of thought I might get here and you’d start giving me orders.’
‘Would you have liked that? I’m sorry. Perhaps I’ve erred too much on the side of caution.’
‘It would actually make things easier for me than all this gentleness,’ Julian admitted. ‘As long as it’s all “whenever you’re ready and no pressure” it’s far too easy for me to funk out.’
‘Right, then.’ Garak leaned back and changed his face, his voice, adopting a brisk, clipped tone of command. ‘Bathroom, now. Do whatever you need to, clean yourself and present yourself in my room within five minutes. I expect you to be naked. I said now!’ The last word was a bark, and Julian sprang up as if it had activated his legs before his brain even had time to process it. From the look on his face as he scurried out of the room Garak thought he might just have been arriving at the conclusion that it was unfair to give further instructions, then snap because they weren’t already being followed, but it was too late to say anything about that. He had to press his lips together hard for a moment in order not to laugh, before he got up, knocked back the last of his drink, and went into the bedroom.
Julian was out of the bathroom in well under five minutes, his face flushed and his breathing rapid; clearly he had stripped off in the greatest hurry. He must have been worried about cleanliness or smell, too, because his pubic hair looked freshly washed, the damp curls more sharply defined than the usual slight frizz. Garak stood on the far side of the bed looking at him appraisingly, without speaking, while he edged nervously from one bare foot to the other.
‘All right,’ Garak said, ‘you’ll do. Turn around and put your hands together behind your back.’ Julian obeyed, though he could see him biting his lip anxiously as he turned around. Walking around the bed, drawing closer, he could see a human peculiarity, goosebumps on the skin of Julian’s back and arms. They were like the Bajorans that way, tender skin that marked easily, and so many different colours.
‘I’ve made these for you,’ he said, slipping the padded restraints around Julian’s wrists and tying them firmly. ‘Soft but strong, and you can’t hurt yourself. Pull. See if you can get loose. You see? But I can free you in a second, when I want to.’ He pulled the loose end of the knot and let Julian feel it unravel before binding him tight again. He’d let him have that much reassurance.
‘You’re always giving me little presents,’ Julian said, his voice squeaking slightly so that he cleared his throat afterwards.
‘And I have another for you.’ He reached up and lowered the blindfold over Julian’s eyes slowly, not to startle him. He flinched back a fraction, but held still for it to be tied at the back of his head.
‘Are they a matched set?’ he asked, still a little high-pitched. ‘I can’t see, you see.’
‘Of course, my dear. You’re perfectly co-ordinated.’ Garak stepped back to admire Julian’s smooth back, the wing-like angles of his shoulderblades, made prominent by the position of his arms, the indented line of his spine, and his small, firm buttocks, half concealed by the drape of his bound hands, those beautiful slim, strong fingers slightly tensed.
‘Considering the things you’ve said about my eyes I’m surprised you’re covering them up.’
‘Julian. If you have something important to say, by all means say it, but if you’re only going to chatter, I’ll have to consider a gag.’
‘S-’ Julian stopped and swallowed the word.
‘Was that going to be sorry?’
‘M-hm.’
‘Quite all right, dear. But you know, when you’re nervous, you prattle on, and I think I’d do well to break you of that habit. It could affect your future prospects.’ He took hold of Julian’s shoulders, stroking them firmly, applying a light downward pressure. ‘On your knees, please.’ He could feel Julian shivering as he lowered himself, his balance awkward, and stepped around to face his front. The nice thing about the blindfold was that, while it hid Julian’s lovely eyes from him, it gave him complete freedom. He thought he was smiling; he didn’t really know. What a rare and lovely treat to be in company, yet not to have to think about what he was saying with his face. He ran a hand through Julian’s hair, stroking over his temple and down behind his ear, pressing his earlobe for a moment between finger and thumb, then tracing the angle of his jaw to hold and tip up his chin. Julian’s breathing grew faster and his tongue flicked quickly over his lips.
‘Are you mine?’ Garak asked softly. He needed to be gentle now that he had him bound; edge him along just at the outer brink of his tolerance, but not push beyond it yet.
‘Yes. Yes, completely.’ Nervous, but eager. Exactly right.
‘Will you do whatever I say, and take whatever I give you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good boy. Get up.’ He could see the surprise on Julian’s face even without the eyes; he’d been expecting a cock in his mouth, most likely. That was one very slight problem with Julian - he lacked subtlety at times. It wasn’t that he rushed to the main event, just that he made some rather obvious choices in the preliminaries, and he was as obsessed with cocks as most very young men. Still, he wobbled to his feet, and let Garak guide him over to the bed, and help him to lie on it, on his back, with an extra pillow to make him almost comfortable. There was enough give in the wrist restraints for him to draw his hands up to the small of his back; the discomfort there would be tolerable for a while.
Without speaking, Garak began a slow, deliberately, maddeningly slow fingertip tracing of the contours of Julian’s body. He wanted to bring him out of his mind and into his body, to make him acutely, thrummingly aware of it from crown to sole. Besides that, it was pure self-indulgence to look, to touch, to examine and explore without the least resistance. A few times they had played a private game called Anatomy, which consisted of him touching places and Julian giving him their proper, medical names, then Julian testing him by naming the places where he wanted to be kissed.
‘Clavicle,’ he murmured now, as he traced it, and saw Julian smile a little. Down over his chest, round and round the flat brown nipple, along his side, pressing lightly to count his ribs. Up again, along the curved underside of the ribcage, up to the sternum, down the centre over the flinching stomach, almost ticklish on Julian, to the navel, then off over to the hipbone and down the front of the thigh. Julian made a very faint little sound in his throat; his penis was thickening and lifting.
‘Pretty dear.’
‘You’re hardly touching me. I thought you were going to be rough.’
‘Will you do whatever I say, and take whatever I give you?’
‘Yes...’
‘This is what I choose to give you.’ Admiring the long, graceful legs, the narrow, fine-boned feet. Feet could not possibly be beautiful, they were completely utilitarian and rather ugly things; Julian’s were lovely. He would have kissed the soles if it hadn’t been out of character for his present role. Back up the other side of Julian’s body, observing with satisfaction that his cock was upright now, feeling him shudder as he drew his hand down from shoulder to stomach, kept it there, low and warm but not low enough for Julian, and bent to kiss his nipple.
That drew a little whimper of protest. Julian was very sensitive there and had never let Garak play with them much.
‘This is what I choose to give you,’ he repeated, and drew his tongue over the little central bud, feeling it stiffen. He gently but implacably worked it until it was swollen and red, the areola puffy and tender, and Julian whimpering in earnest. Still, not a word of red or even orange, so he must be happy. He moaned sweetly when Garak moved over to the other nipple, teased it up and then held it delicately between his front teeth, moving his lower jaw just a fraction back and forth. That made him shift on the bed, lifting his hips and arching his back, drawing his feet up as his knees bent.
‘Down,’ Garak murmured, pushing on his stomach.
‘It’s very hard to keep still when you’re doing that.’ Julian squirmed again, and Garak slapped his thigh.
‘Try harder. And lower your knees; you’ll put your hands to sleep.’
‘Garak?’ Julian rearranged his legs, although they were still a little flexed, his toes curled into the bedcovers
‘Hmm?’
‘When do you take your clothes off?’
‘How do you know I haven’t already?’
‘I would hear you... wouldn’t I?’
Garak let his sleeve brush Julian’s arm. ‘Perhaps you would.’ He bent to the nipple again, using his teeth less gently now, bringing on a crescendo of panting and a few breathless ‘ow’s. ‘On the other hand, how do you know I will?’ Bite, and Julian cried out, his body arching reflexively.
‘Orange!’ he yelped.
‘I’m sorry, my darling.’ He gave it a gentle, soothing lick.
‘We agreed not to break the skin!’
‘I haven’t, and I won’t.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I promise. If there were blood, you’d feel a trickle by now.’
‘I... I suppose... all right, you’re right. Sorry. Green again.’
‘Good.’ He spared the nipples for a while, though, kissing and sucking around them. Julian’s chest was hard and flat and boyish, no fat and little muscle, though the bruised skin swelled a little wherever he paused, sucking hard, working a pinch of flesh between his teeth and his tongue. The love-bites came up like blossoms, red shading to purple on golden brown, increasingly flushed with pink. The old ones on his shoulders were just a dappling of grey and yellow now.
‘Oh, God...’ Julian breathed, turning his head restlessly on the pillow. His cock was so hard now it curved up to his belly. Garak could feel the warmth from its head just above his hand. His own was hard inside its scaly sheath, but as long as he kept it there, safe from too much stimulation, he could be patient. He took pity just a little and wrapped his hand around the long, hot shaft, biting Julian’s nipple as he did, feeling him jolt and hearing him groan, loving the way the impossibly soft skin slid over the impossibly hard core. He bit again, just under the nipple, as hard as he could without drawing blood, and rubbed faster, his palm tingling with the friction.
‘Oh, yes, yes, yes... ohhh...’ A moan of disappointment as Garak jerked his hand away and stood back from the bed, catching his breath. ‘Oh, Garak, please!’
‘Not yet. Be good.’ He had to breathe deeply and pass a shaking hand over his hair; he was extremely glad Julian couldn’t see him at the moment. He wasn’t used to it any more, that was the problem; that and Julian’s outlandish alien beauty. ‘Roll over,’ he said, his voice rougher than he intended, and grabbed Julian’s shoulder and hip to turn him onto his front. ‘And no fucking the bed,’ he added, close by Julian’s ear.
‘Promise,’ Julian said, sounding dazed. He lay on his belly with his head turned to the side, the blindfold still secure across his eyes. The position must have been a slight improvement for his arms and hands. Garak bent and pressed a kiss into the palm of the uppermost one.
‘Sweet boy.’ Apart from the shoulders, his back was smooth and unmarked, caramel brown from nape to tailbone, his buttocks slightly lighter, tightening as Garak drew his hand over them. ‘Such a lovely little arse. You know I have to hurt it, don’t you?’
‘Biting there too?’ Julian mumbled.
‘No. Be patient.’ He stepped aside and looked at the things he’d prepared on the side table, knowing most of them he wouldn’t use but wanting to be ready for anything. Julian must not have noticed them in his rush through to the bathroom or he would have been a good deal more nervous. He chose the rod, thin and flexible, made to sting but not cut, not unless it was used again and again until the battered skin simply split. He held it in both hands, one at each end, arched it, making sure of the balance and flex of it, then went back and very lightly trailed the tip of it from the nape of Julian’s neck down his back and into the palm of his hand, where he tapped twice. Julian closed his hand around it, feeling what it was.
‘A cane?’
‘Very good.’
‘You don’t do things by halves.’
‘Would you want me to?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I thought we agreed, no sir?’ Up and down his back, watching the waves of gooseflesh follow the tip of the rod, watching his tight little buttocks twitch and quiver.
‘It was just for emphasis. But what have I done to deserve to be caned?’
‘Oh, a thousand and one things, I dare say. We all have so many crimes that go unpunished. Things that nobody knows about. Things that have been overlooked and forgotten. Things that sometimes, we wish someone knew, whatever the consequences, so that we didn’t have to know them alone. Or shall I just trump up a charge? For the grievous crime of putting ketchup on sem’hal stew, three strokes.’ They were really only swats, flicks that left only a brief white mark, and he could see Julian smile, thinking he was really only playing.
‘For prancing around in absurd silver athletic clothing, to the detriment of public morals, three more.’ A little more vigorous this time, faint pink lines appearing when the white ones faded.
‘For torturing me with your beauty for months before giving yourself to me, three more.’ These ones must have stung a little.
‘Oh, that’s not fair!’ Julian protested. ‘I wasn’t ready.’
‘That’s rather the point of trumped-up charges, my boy. Let’s see... for fluttering your eyelashes at all and sundry, for promiscuity unbecoming an officer, most particularly for the time you spoiled a very rare piece of Antarean spidersilk by coming on it, a stain I was never able to remove - ‘
‘Then don’t fuck me over your worktable!’
‘For insolence, six strokes.’ He put his back into it this time and the first blow shocked Julian into breathless silence. White bloomed red, the second stroke fell across the line and he yelped in pain. Three, and he was squirming, four, and Garak grabbed his bound hands to keep him in place. Five, six, and rest, his arm burning, though that could be nothing to the burning Julian was feeling. He shook it out from the shoulder and smoothed back his hair, gazing with a craftsman’s satisfaction at the crimson welts he’d raised on Julian’s skin. Three overlapped; that wasn’t bad accuracy for someone sorely out of practice.
‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Julian said weakly.
‘Of course you can,’ Garak said, and slapped his bottom with an open hand, keeping it there to press and rub. ‘If it helps, my love, I think you’re coping remarkably well.’
‘You bastard.’
‘So I’m told.’ No orange, no red. Brave boy! He pressed his middle finger into the cleft of Julian’s buttocks, rubbing the hot inner flesh and the tightly puckered opening, none too gently. ‘You’ve been so good I may even fuck you. I know you’d like that.’
‘I suppose you’re going to do it dry.’
‘I’m not an animal, Julian. I wouldn’t put a finger in you dry.’
‘What are you doing with that one?’
‘Just a little tickle, dear.’
‘Stop it.’
‘Is that what you say?’ He watched very carefully for a reaction. It was possible that in his excitement Julian had forgotten the code, in which case it would be fatal to continue when he asked him to stop.
‘You’re treating me like I’m just a green little boy and it’s, it’s insulting.’
Oh, my lovely boy. ‘That is exactly what you are, though.’ He withdrew his fingers and gave Julian’s bottom another slap. ‘You’re a child.’
‘Am not.’ Julian pouted and Garak bit his lip a moment - his own lip, although Julian’s were very tempting just then.
‘I’m not going to play am not-are so with you. You should accept the loving correction of your elders and be grateful, little slut.’ A smack that made Julian bounce involuntarily and grunt.
‘Stop it!’
‘I think you need the cane again.’
‘Oh no no no no - ah!’ Julian gritted his teeth and drew in a sharp hissing breath. The rod whistled in the air, punctuated by smart cracks as it hit his rump and thighs. At four Garak had to stop, regretfully, but if he went on he risked making Julian bleed. He spat on his hand, rubbed his fingers together and pushed the middle one into Julian’s bottom again, feeling him flinch and lock up and then yield to hard, steady pressure.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ Julian was whimpering, but he pushed his hips up to meet Garak’s hand and moaned when they were sharply pushed down again. Watching his flushed face, Garak saw him mouth the word once before he said it. ‘Daddy, please...’ His cheeks went even redder.
‘Yes, my love?’
‘Fuck me. At least finger-fuck me. Please?’
‘Of course, my darling, when you ask so sweetly. Wait just a moment.’ He kept one hand stroking over Julian’s back while the other unfastened his trousers. He groped inside, thrust two fingers into the scaled slit, closing his eyes at the shock of sweetness that weakened his legs, drew his fingers out dripping with the thick precome dammed up in there and slipped them back into Julian’s tight heat.
‘Ohh...’ That purr was back in Julian’s voice, a low throb as he sighed and trembled under slow, steady strokes of Garak’s fingers. Garak doubted whether he even felt his bruises at the moment. His trouser leg was warm and wet; he could no longer keep his erection in. There was no sense waiting any longer, was there? He pulled his fingers out, to a mewl of protest, climbed up on the bed, pushed Julian’s legs apart and sank his cock in. As the silky heat surrounded him he knew it would have been better form to tease Julian, to make him beg for it, oh please Daddy, yes my darling boy, but he needed it too much now. And anyway, this wouldn’t be the only time, definitely not, next time he’d make it perfect but just now, oh, now, yes, now went on and on, until he wasn’t sure which of them came first, only that they were both, eventually, joyfully exhausted and limp, piled on the bed. He kissed Julian’s sweat-sleek shoulder, wishing that in this position he could reach his cheek, his mouth. Next time.
‘Bloody hell,’ Julian murmured.
‘All right, my love?’
‘Actually, I think I’ll never be the same, but thank you.'