Work Text:
Julian gently closes the eyes of the lifeless body in front of him, wishing there was more he could do, knowing the taboo it is for Cardassian’s to leave their dead in the open, but the city is still burning around them and what little supplies they have are being reserved for the living civilians. Kira offers a steadying arm as he rises, grip strong and sure on his elbow, her own eyes tired and sorrow filled, tears held back by sheer force of will.
“So many dead,” Kira whispers, leading him into the Dominion headquarters, “and not just soldiers, but civilians and children. Even after everything, I’m never prepared for the aftermath of war.”
“I hope no one’s ever prepared for the aftermath of war,” Julian answers as he wraps an arm around Kira’s shoulder, offering back the same support she’d just shown him, “no matter who it affects.”
“When did you become so wise?” Kira asks, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Maybe around the same time Garak told me my smile wasn’t so boyish anymore.”
Kira’s laugh echoes in the deserted hallway, out of place, but welcome, a familiar sound Julian is grateful he still gets to hear. He longs to hear another voice, beloved and long absent from his side. “Where is he?”
“In the command room, the numbers are still rolling in from the bombardments. Be careful with him, Julian. He won’t want to show it or admit it, but this has wrecked him. He’s lost so much and you’re just one more precious thing he can’t afford to lose. He’ll want you well away from here, away from danger. You know Garak better than anyone, but he and I are more alike than either one of us would like to admit. My first instinct is to push away the people I love most to protect them. Don’t let Garak push you away.”
“I don’t plan on letting him,” Julian responds, then takes Kira’s hand in his. “Thank you, Kira, for being there for him when I couldn’t.”
Kira surprises him by darting in and hugging him, arms strong around his shoulders. Julian instantly wraps his own around her, squeezing her tight. Kira squeezes in return once before pushing him towards the closed door, “Go on.”
Elim Garak stands with his back to Julian when he enters, eyes flashing over the incoming information and death tolls, shoulders rigid and harsh. The scales of his shoulders are black in the center and Julian longs to trace the shapely ridges and soothe the hurt away. But this isn’t a hurt Julian can heal. Before the war, Garak would have turned the moment Julian entered a room, always aware of his mate’s movements, but now he just keeps staring straight ahead, barely acknowledging the doctor. Julian has loved Garak almost since the moment they met, has seen his lover transform and adapt for years, now it’s time for Julian to transform and adapt, ever the orchid turning towards his lover’s light.
Julian steps up beside Garak, seeing his lover tense even further out of the corner of his eye. “Eight hundred million dead,” Julian says horrified as he reads over the information. All those innocent lives lost, so many hopeful futures, gone.
“And casualty reports still coming in,” Garak says, voice tight and high, trying to hide his despair behind a wall of arrogant casualness. He turns his piercing gaze on Julian, the blue of his eyes lit with tears Garak refuses to shed, mouth curling into a grin that is nothing but derision, “Well, aren't you going to congratulate me, Doctor? My exile is now officially over. I've returned home. Or rather, to what's left of it.”
Julian doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know any way to comfort in a situation like this, but he’s desperate to comfort, anything to take away even a little of Garak’s pain.
“Some may say that we've gotten just what we deserved. After all, we're not entirely innocent, are we? And I'm not just speaking of the Bajoran occupation. No, our whole history is one of arrogant aggression. We've collaborated with the Dominion, betrayed the entire Alpha Quadrant. Oh, no, no. There's no doubt about it. We're guilty as charged.”
Julian has no counter for that, knows already how some of the Federation and their allies are saying just that. Cardassia and her people have a long, hard road ahead of them, one of redemption and rebuilding if they’re strong enough to see it through. Julian knows with people like Garak leading the fight, they will be. “You and I both know that the Cardassians are a strong people. They'll survive. Cardassia will survive.”
“Please, Doctor. Spare me your insufferable Federation optimism,” Garak snorts, turning away at the flash of even more fatalities coming in, “Of course it will survive, but not as the Cardassia I knew. We had a rich and ancient culture, our literature, music, and art were second to none. And now, so much of it is lost. So many of our best people, our most gifted minds…”
Julian can’t stand it any longer, can’t stand to argue with his mate over the tragedy that has brought him so low. He finally reaches for Garak, movements telegraphed so his mate can pull away if he wishes. “I'm so sorry, Elim, darling. I’m so sorry.”
Garak finally breaks, turning into Julian, facade shattering as he cries silently as Julian enfolds him in his arms. Garak tries to fight even then, but eventually succumbs to the comfort Julian desperately tries to offer, knowing nothing can comfort in times like this. His tears are hot on Julian’s neck and what little sound escapes his lips is safely muffled by Julian’s shoulder as the doctor holds him close, hands keeping Garak close, a warm anchor in the storm.
“I’m here, my darling, I’m here now.” Julian kisses along Garak’s forehead, brushing soft lips across his chufa, trying to banish the dark spot that’s taken root in it’s center.
“Oh my dearest,” Garak whispers, as if he doesn’t mean for Julian to hear, hands trembling, as he returns Julian’s embrace, claws ever gentle as they grip onto Julian’s back and pull him even tighter against him. “I'm going to miss you terribly.”
“I’ll hear none of that, Elim Garak,” Julian orders, lifting Garak’s face from his neck and framing it with his slender fingers, creating tickling little points of pressure along his aural ridges. “There will be nothing to miss. I’ll be right here with you, helping you rebuild.”
“No,” Garak commands, as if he thinks Julian will listen to any command but the one to join him. Garak cradles Julian’s hands in his, removing them from his face and presses gentle, precious kisses to his palms. Farewell kisses, Julian realizes. “The only thing Cardassia can offer now is danger. I won’t have you be in it.”
“I’ll be in it one way or another, Elim,” Julian counters, gripping Garak’s hands until his fingers turn white with pressure. “Even if you send me away now, Kira is already pushing the Federation for aid. That includes medical personnel, so I will be on this planet one way or the other. You can either accept that I’m not leaving you and we can help Cardassia rebuild together, or I will resign my commission and join whichever hospital on Cardassia will have me, alone and without your protection.”
A low, chuffing rumble emanates from Garak’s chest filling the space and Julian kisses Garak, long and slow, wrapping his arms around Garak’s strong neck and grinning into their next kiss. His scales have lost some of their black sheen, tiny specks of blue slowly lighting up the gray.
“What kind of mate would manipulate his beloved?” Garak questions, even as he cups the back of Julian’s head, their lips brushing with each word and Julian knows he’s won. Feels it in the way Garak kisses him, in his arms as they hold Julian close.
“One terribly in love with Elim Garak.”
Garak hides himself away again, shifting so that one of his aural ridges slides against the pulse point on Julian’s neck, listening to the steady beating of his heart and committing it to memory, “It won’t be easy, my dear. We Cardassians are a strong, stubborn people. Most won’t accept help easily.”
“It’s usually the hardest things that are worth the most. And it will be worth it, as long as I’m with you, Elim.”
“I don’t deserve you, you bright, beautiful creature.”
“You have me anyway.”
Garak finally pulls himself away from Julian, eyes full of wonder and awe. “You would resign your commission for me.”
It’s a statement, not a question, and Julian answers him with another kiss, “I would give up more than that for you, darling. I thought Starfleet would give me a place to belong, but really it was everyone on the station that made it home, not Starfleet. You made it home.”
Garak looks entirely too pleased with himself, chufa flushed blue with pleasure and he presses his cheek against Julian’s, his scales a grounding point against his skin. Garak scents him for several minutes and Julian allows it, wishing the scent could linger on his skin forever even if he can’t smell it.
“You’ll have to return to Deep Space Nine to handle your affairs, regardless, but I’m hoping resignation won’t be your final option. We do have friends in high places, my dear, use them. I’ll have to make due without you for at least a few weeks,” Garak sighs, pleased with the way their scents mingle. Julian kisses the smug look off his face, running his fingers through Garak’s dark silky hair. The two breathe in each other’s air, memorizing each other with hands and lips until a gentle knock on the door breaks them apart.
“Enter,” Garak calls, barely able to pull himself away from Julian, knowing it will likely be months, probably longer, before he’ll have his mate in his arms again.
Kira enters the room, face apologetic, “Julian, I’m sorry, but the shuttle will be leaving any minute. If you’re going to be on it, we need to leave now.“
“He’ll be on it, Colonel” Garak answers for him, ignoring Julian’s muttering under his breath that I can answer for myself, Elim. “Thank you for everything, Kira. I can’t express the depth of my gratitude, for everything.”
“You’re welcome, Garak,” Kira answers, voice soft and tired, “I’ll hold off the shuttle a few minutes longer.”
Julian barely waits for her to leave before he’s crushing his mouth to Garak’s again, slotting their fingers together in an intimate hold. “Please be safe, darling. I’ll be back to you as soon as I’m able.”
“You must promise me to take care of yourself, until you're back with me. No rushing blindly into danger like one of your hologames.”
“I love you, Elim.” Julian kisses every part of Garak’s face he can, lingering at his mouth.
“I love you as well, Julian.” Garak presses his chufa to Julian’s forehead, breathing in his scent and memorizing it for the long days to come, tasting the sweet honey of him on the back of his tongue. “Now you have a shuttle to catch.”
Julian forces himself away with one last kiss then turns and walks out the door, refusing to look back, knowing if he does he’ll never make it to the shuttle.
In the end, Julian doesn’t have to resign his commission. Between Kira and his other allies within Starfleet and even the Klingon Empire, he’s quickly brought into the Aid relief program, helping to organize the starting efforts of material gathering and a distribution schedule as information from the planet comes in. It was almost too easy to get on the main Cardassian team, and Julian can only imagine how the higher ups took the opportunity to rid themselves of their “augment” situation as well as have someone who will be happy to be on Cardassian soil leading the charge. But Julian isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when it will get him back to Garak faster, so he falls head first into preparations and thoughts of Garak waiting for him on Cardassia and uses his burning determination to get things in order. He won’t keep Garak waiting any longer than he has too. It’s already been weeks since he left his mate and he misses Garak like a limb, their quarters so quiet and devoid of life. He wants nothing more than to sleep in Garak’s arms again or curled around his back so he can stroke the silk smooth scales of his stomach. At least during the war, he was distracted with duty, able to forget that Garak wasn’t with him, that he was fighting for his life on Cardassia, for a few horrible hours. Now all he can focus on is getting back to Garak.
Thankfully, Kassidy has generously offered to transport him, the several of first personnel crews, and any supplies they can fit into her cargo ship to Cardassia just as soon as she returns to DS9, which should everything go to plan would only be a couple of weeks away. The first waves of volunteers and crew have been arriving to the station in a steady stream, giving Julian time to teach them what he can of Cardassian anatomy.
“If you had to choose a Kardi, there were worse options,” Miles jests, one afternoon a few days later as he’s helping Julian assemble a portable replicator. It won’t make much, but Julian knows anything will be helpful for the devastated Cardassia and if nothing else it can produce medicines and limited amounts of foods and liquids. He’s basing his current preparations solely on his own knowledge as a doctor and what had been brutally learned during the war. Most communications on Cardassia are still limited and the few precious subspace messages that can get out are restricted to relief efforts only. He’s been in contact with Kelas Parmak, his Cardassian side of the relief effort, but even those few messages are short. Julian was surprised to find Parmak was an old friend of Garak’s and after a few brief messages, he’d received a personal correspondence from Garak, short but enough to set Julian at ease.
Julian, I am safe and have found shelter in the old garden shed of Tain’s manor. Kelas is keeping me updated on the timeline for the relief efforts and I will be waiting for you when you arrive. Be safe, my dearest, your Elim.
Julian at least knows Garak is safe even if he worries horribly about if he’s getting enough to eat, if he’s warm enough, if he’s lonely. So he packs and prepares as best he can so that he can return to Garak’s side as soon as Captain Yates is ready to make the journey. He’s packing strictly essentials for himself, a few clothes, Kukalaka, and his personal medical texts on Cardassian anatomy he’s been compiling since he removed that horrid torture device from Garak’s head. He knows it's not anywhere near complete, but it will give him some advantages when he finally reaches Cardassia. The rest of their things, he’s packed away in several large cargo containers, which Kira has promised to look after until they can be sent planetside.
So Julian waits, using the time to start making connections outside of Starfleet, with the Klingon Empire and Bajor, preparing shipments of medical essentials, construction materials, anything he can think of. General Martok and Kira have been godsends in that regard. The Bajoran government had been extremely reluctant at first, but Kira is as persuasive with politics as she is courageous in battle and Julian knows no force that can stand in her way when her mind is set. The Klingon’s had been a far easier sell, apparently being a close confidant of Martok, and apparently a war hero himself, and doesn’t that make Julian’s head spin, is enough to get a guarantee of steady shipments of various goods already enroute to Cardassia.
By some small miracle of the universe, Captain Yates arrives a week earlier than expected. Julian and Miles direct packing of the cargo and the few personal items of Julian’s and Garak’s that fit into his small travel chest. Julian convinces Kassidy to let him check her and the baby over and demands she rest at least a day before they head towards Cardassia. It also gives him time to get in contact with Parmak and give him a heads up on their arrival.
The day of departure the remaining command crew gather outside the Xhosa to say farewells and if Miles’s hug is longer and tighter than the rest, no one says a word.
“Take care of yourself, you hear,” Miles grumps, finally letting go of Julian to make space for the rest of the crew.
“You know I will,” Julian responds as he hugs Ezri and tries not to wince at Worf’s grip when he shakes his hand.
“No,” Miles argues, “Garak will look after you. You’ll get yourself into all sorts of trouble and I won’t be there to get you out of it.”
“You’re the one that gets me into all that trouble!”
The command crew laugh at his outburst, and for a second it’s like old times, before the war, before all the loss and fear. Before long, all the cargo has been loaded, as well as the few initial aid workers making the journey and Julian hugs everyone one more time before joining Kassidy on the ship. He joins her in the cockpit, taking the co-pilot seat and running checks.
“All systems green,” he reports to Kassidy, who’s finishing her own checks.
Kassidy thumbs the comms button, ”Alright everyone, please buckle up, all systems are green. We’ll be planetside within a few hours, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”
The ship’s engines rumble to life and Kassidy skillfully guides them away from the docking bay and engages the engines. It’s a fairly short trip from the station to Cardassia, only four hours at the speed Kassidy flies and Julian uses the time to finish what last minute preparations he can. Soon enough, Kassidy is hailing for landing clearance and quickly given the go ahead to set down in the center of Cardassia City. They break the atmosphere and Julian watches as the landscape rushes up at them, the destruction apparent even from this far up, cities nothing but blackened scars all across the planet. Healing is going to be a slow and painful process.
Dust swirls around the ship as they land and Julian can see the crowds already gathering around the small cargo ship, faces desperate, hopeful, and suspicious all at one. He helps Kassidy run the last of the landing procedures then heads to the cargo hold to start giving directions to the initial relief crew. All of these initial workers are veterans of relief work and know their jobs well, taking in all the information Julian gives them and gearing up to disembark.
The cargo doors clank open, heat rushing through the cool interior of the cargo hold with a rush of sand. Julian grabs the chest containing the portable replicator and leads the crew out into the harsh Cardassian sun. The crowd stays back from the ship, but their faces are eager and hopeful as they watch crate after crate make their way from the ship.
“Doctor Bashir!” a voice calls from the crowd and Julian recognizes Kelas Parmak as he pushes his way through, the crowd giving way.
“Doctor Parmak!” Julian calls back, setting his crate down and lifting his hand to press it to Parmak's in a traditional Cardassian greeting, “It’s wonderful to meet you in person. We’ve got a portable replicator here and the promise of another as soon as Chief O’Brian on Deep Space Nine can get another built.”
“We can’t thank you enough, Doctor. The people of Cardassia will be forever in your debt. We weren’t expecting nearly so many supplies so soon.”
“I’m happy to be of service! We already have a schedule of shipments from Bajor and Qo’noS with food, seeds, and building materials. If everything goes to schedule the first shipments should be arriving within the month. “
The crowd is starting to shift around them and Julian and Parmak turn back to the job at hand, the Cardassian doctor starting to direct his fellow citizens and Julian returning to unload the crates and equipment. Those in the crowd that are able bodied begin helping stack and organize the supplies, and Julian turns and bends to help lift one of the heavier crates, his fingers meeting the cool gray skin of the Cardassian taking his crate.
“I’m so sorry!” Julian apologizes, lifting his head and losing his breath as he meets familiar, beautiful blue eyes. “Elim!”
“Hello, dearest.” Garak’s voice is rough, his scales dry and cracking but he’s the most beautiful person Julian has ever seen. He wants to drop the crate to the ground and through his arms around Garak, wants to kiss every bit of his dusty face and he sees the same want in Garak as he meets Julian’s gaze, his fingers sliding over Julian’s on the crate. But they have work to do first, vital work, and he has all the time in the world with Garak now.
“Later,” Julian says and entangles their fingers for the briefest second as they place the crate in it’s correct section.
“Yes, later,” Garak agrees with a grin, “I am at your service Doctor Bashir.”
God, Julian wants to kiss him. Instead, he leaves Garak to find where he’ll be most useful and gathers the nurses that have accompanied him and begins directing the Cardassian civilians into orderly lines. Doctor Parmak joins their group assisting the more cautious civilians, while Julian unloads the portable replicator in preparation for hypos and immediate medical needs. The sounds of their tricorders and hiss of hypos becomes a small symphony as the rest of the relief crew begin taking names and numbers of families for food distribution. Word quickly spreads and soon they have a much larger crowd on their hands. Thankfully, Garak’s voice rises above the crowd, keeping order and he’s soon joined by a few other Cardassian’s who form small groups of civilians and begin assisting the relief workers to meet what needs they can.
It’s hours of hard work and toil, but finally the crowd disperses, immediate needs met as much as possible. The crew takes a well earned break, discussing rotations and work lists as they rest in the shade of the cargo hold. They won’t have long, as Kassidy has other drops and pickups in the system, but she gives them another few solid hours before she has to be in the air.
Garak hovers around the edge of their group, keeping a close eye out for any stragglers. Threats too, Julian is sure by the way Garak circles the area. He stops only long enough to sit and share a drink of cool, fresh water from his personal ration with Julian, sides pressed against each other despite the heat and eyes of the relief crew. They sit together for a few moments, Julian relishing the feel of his lover against him, Garak’s fingers gently brushing his wrist until he stands and starts circling the area once more.
Parmak gathers the names taken by the crew and his bag before making his way over to Julian, “I’m going to consult with some more of my colleagues and start making preparations for your crew. The initial plan was to set up the relief tents in this square if that works for you, Doctor Bashir? It’s a fairly central location. We can’t guarantee consistent power, but if we have consistent medical care in one area we can focus on making sure you get at least a few hours each day.”
Julian looks around and studies the square. Most of the buildings are in ruins, but a few have survived and would make decent enough areas for simple treatments, waiting areas, or to distribute supplies from. It’s also fairly well insulated from the wind, surrounded on all sides by walls and the few surviving buildings. Once the various tents are up, it would serve as a good base of operations.
“You know the area better than I, so I’m happy to defer to your judgement.”
They still have a few hours of light left, so Julian rallies the crew and they begin setting up the modular housing units and tents that will serve as their base of operations for the foreseeable future. It’s actually quick work and soon the crates and materials have been moved into one of the more substantial structures to protect the materials from the elements. A small section of the relief crew will stay in the overnight cots to stand watch with a rotating schedule. As much as Julian hates the precaution, he’s seen enough of relief work to know how desperate survivors can be. It will also allow for emergency medical care if needed and give the crew a chance to build rapport in the neighborhood.
“We’ve some temporary housing for the relief crew at the hospital, you're more than welcome to join them,” Parmak says, as the last of the crates are settled.
Julian eyes Garak’s silhouette as he patrols, the sun glinting off his dark hair, “I’m hoping to stay with Garak, if he’ll have me.”
Parmak follows Julian’s gaze and smiles, almost wistfully, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I’ve known Garak for many years, and while I can’t know what he went through on that station, from what little he’s told me, you were one of the only reasons he survived his exile. His devotion to you is shadowed only by his devotion to Cardassia, and even that I would question if he hadn’t had the belief that you would be here with him.”
Julian notices Parmak’s line of sight and the wistfulness of his smile, how his eyes follow Garak, admiring his form as he walks. Not that Julian can blame him, Garak cuts a striking figure, even in ratty overalls and covered in dust. Parmak himself is handsome, with striking violet eyes and his long silvered hair, a Cardassian beauty ideal. “Were you and Garak…close? Before his exile, I mean?”
“We were a possibility,” Parmak sighs, “but nothing more. Not even friends really. I’m glad he found you. I hope he feels he can call me a friend now.”
Julian holds his hand up towards Parmak, who readily accepts the hand press with another smile. “I hope we can be friends too,” Julian says.
“I think we already are.” Parmak hefts his bag further onto his shoulder before indicating to the relief crew to follow him.
“Everyone meet back here at 0800,” Julian instructs as they leave, the crew leaders voicing affirmatives.
Garak finishes his current circle of the area as the group is leaving, migrating to Julian’s side. His expression is neutral enough, but Julian detects the smallest hint of uncertainty on Garak’s handsome face.
“May I escort you home, my dear doctor?” Garak asks, taking Julian’s small travel bag with a gallant sweep of his arm.
“You certainly may,” Julian replies with a laugh, falling into step beside him, brushing their fingers together as they walk.
Garak leads them down the dusty street, raising a hand to greet people every now and then. Most eye Julian with apprehension, but nowhere near as much suspicion as he’d expected. Garak must read his mind because he bumps their shoulders together and says, “Word has already spread of the handsome Fredaji doctor and his team. You always were a miracle worker.”
“Flattery? Really, Elim?” Julian laughs and tangles their pinkies together for a few seconds.
“It’s not flattery if it’s true, my dear.”
The area has changed slightly as they walked, now some twenty minutes from the square to a more residential area, but the devastation is just as apparent, most homes damaged in some form or fashion. Garak stops in front of an uneven wall, where once metal gates would have stood, revealing a blackened courtyard save for a bright burst of color in one corner. Of course, Garak would’ve started a garden as soon as he could and Julian thinks of his lover’s bevy of plants currently being tended to on the station by Ezri. Perhaps, he can find a way to get them planetside. The garden is protected by the corner of the surviving walls next to a small work shed turned living quarters. The main house is nothing but stone fragments and blackened wood, but Julian imagines the house would've been beautiful in it’s prime.
Garak leads him into the shed, leaving the door open to utilize the last of the evening light, setting Julian’s bag in the corner beside a worn cot. Garak starts to reach for Julian, then hesitates and Julian is having absolutely none of that.
“Come here to me, darling,” Julian says, hands reaching back for Garak who practically flies the few steps to enfold himself around Julian, nearly knocking the wind from Julian’s lungs, so fierce is his grip.
“I have missed you, my dearest,” Garak murmurs as he traces his hands over Julian’s body and kisses him. Julian moans at the feeling, his own arms circling Garak’s waist, breaking the kiss to dart even more kisses along Garak’s face, tracing the lovely swirls of his scales with his lips.
“I’m here now, Elim.” Julian says into the whorl of Garak’s ear, his warm breath a tickle on the sensitive scales. “I’m here.”
Garak growls and slams the door to the shed removing himself from Julian only long enough for him to light the old fashioned oil lamp sitting on the rickety table before pulling Julian back into his arms and guiding him towards the cot. They fumble like teenagers, rushing to get their hands on each other's skin. Garak’s ridge scales are flushed with cascades of blues, his chufa nearly sapphire as he presses it into Julian’s shoulder as he takes desperate inhales against Julian’s warm skin.
Julian slides his hands under the clasps of Garak’s overalls, sliding them off his shoulders and pushing them to the floor. Garak’s claws are running through Julian’s hair, his tongue and teeth working along his collar bone, sucking and nipping bruises into his skin.
“I’ve missed your scent,” Garak rumbles, his voice deep and low in his throat. “Missed my scent on you.”
Julian tilts his neck in offering and Garak quickly presses his cheeks to the vulnerable skins there as he runs his fingers down Julian’s back to skirt under his shirt, pulling it up and over his head to drop it on the floor. Julian responds in kind, revealing the soft scales of Garak’s chest and stomach, dull even in the minimal light. Garak has clearly lost too much weight in too short of time, and what padding his stomach had is long since gone. Julian unbuttons his pants and slips them and his briefs off and drops to his knees, pressing kisses to the concave of Garak’s stomach. Garak’s muscles flutter under his touch, his chula and chuva stained the same lovely blue as the rest of his scales.
“I’ve missed you too, Elim, so much,” Julian whispers into the delicate scales, tongue laving down to worship at Garak’s chuva. Garak’s hand grip his hair, guiding Julian’s head further down towards his ajan, already dripping with slick. He nips at the protective scales decorating Garak’s seam, relishing the sounds Garak makes in response, memorizing them and hiding them away in his memory. Garak’s ajan parts at the lick of his tongue, blooming to reveal the soft pink color inside, blue tinted slick decorating his mouth as he slides his tongue further inside. Garak’s hold in his hair tightens, a wonderful, zinging pressure and Julian presses himself closer, flicking his tongue along the smooth grooves of Garak’s ajan. His fingers dance up Garak’s legs, tracing the lovely scales that start at each clawed toe that combine to run up his calves to circle his knee and then up his thighs, still plusher than the rest of him. Julian gives one more skillful lick of his tongue, the tip brushing just at the tip of Garak’s prut, and Garak everts with soft cry. Julian immediately takes him into his mouth, lips slowly widening as he travels from Garak’s thinner tip to the wider part of his irllun, laving his tongue along the soft ridge scales on its edges.
“Julian,” Garak pants, his fingers stroking through Julian’s hair and down to pet the back of his neck, “I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”
“Tell me what you want?” Julian asks, pulling away and resting his head on Garak’s hip, peppering little kisses to the scales lining his hips he can reach, Garak’s prut curved up to rest in the dip of his chuva.
“Anything, dearest.” Garak pulls Julian up from the ground and kisses him, licking away the slick on his lips. “I just want to feel you.”
Julian pushes Garak back until his knees hit the cot, admiring his mate as Garak stretches out, hands reaching for Julian to follow him.
“I want you in me.” Julian crawls onto the cot, ignoring the metal’s squeaks of protest to the added weight, and straddles Garak’s pelvis, the Cardassian’s hands gripping his ass. Garak’s deep rumbling purr starts again, filling the small shed as Julian reaches between them to coat his fingers with Garak’s slick from his ajan. He reaches behind them, curving his back to show himself off, which clearly pleases Garak if the increased intensity of his purring is anything to go by, and slips two fingers into his ass. He preps himself quickly, purposefully relaxing himself so that his fingers slip easily into his channel.
Garak slides his hands up Julian’s stomach to his chest, claws flicking over his dusty pink nipples, causing shivers to run through Julian’s frame.
“My beautiful mate,” Garak growls, “my beautiful, clever mate.”
Julian lifts his hips, angling Garak’s prut at his entrance, Garak’s hands gripping onto his ass and stopping his movement. “Do not hurt yourself,” Garak hisses, and gently tests Julian’s preparations, ever gentle of his claws. “You’re always in a rush, my dear.”
“It’s been months,” Julian argues, clenching around Garak’s fingers. “I’ll rush as much as I like. Perk of being an augment, increased muscle control.”
Garak starts to argue further, but Julian silences him by swiping up his hand and intertwining their fingers as he sinks down onto Garak’s prut. Garak rolls his hips, fully seating himself inside of Julian and takes his other hand, helping Julian move against him.
Julian, for as talkative as he is, is quiet in his pleasure, always has been, and Garak takes great pride in being able to pull those precious sounds from his mate, savoring them like the finest kanar. Soon Julian’s moans echo his own rumbling purr. They don’t last long, tired and worn out as they are, and soon Julian is spurting across Garak’s chest. Garak follows after a few more rolls of his hips, spilling inside Julian with a shudder and catching his mate as he falls to lay on top of him. They catch their breath for a few moments, then Julian slides to his side to tuck himself against Garak, meeting his mate’s eyes. Garak is staring at Julian in wonder, unguarded, the sheen of tears building and threatening to fall.
“You’re here,” Garak whispers, framing Julian’s face with his hands and pressing his chufa to his smooth forehead. “My Julian, you’re really here.”
“I’m really here,” Julian reassures him, kissing him softly, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
The cot is small, not nearly large enough for a full grown Terran and Cardassian to share, but they arrange themselves well enough, Julian sliding into the curve of Garak’s body. He reaches down to the floor to pull his discarded shirt up, using it to clean themselves as much as they're able. The air is still warm, even with the sun down, but Garak is a heat sink as he always is, happy to have the warmth of his mate in his arms. Julian sets his alarm with a quick voice command and settles further onto the cot, Garak’s arms encircling him.
“It’s going to be a long road, my dearest.” Garak’s voice is quiet in the night, his hands brushing up and down Julian’s back.
“We’ll walk it together.”