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Just Say the Word

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"Just say the word and I'll stop."

But Julian didn't want him to stop. He never wanted him to stop. He wanted to feel Garak's hand on his cock and his prUt stretching his ass open forever.

So Julian didn't say a word, any word, let alone the one that would end this heavenly torment.

Julian tensed, at the edge, his bollocks tightening and his belly contracting, and Garak stilled, his cool arms wrapped tight around Julian’s bare torso, his scaly chest pressed firmly against Julian's naked back.

Julian clenched his fingers around the headboard, rough rope fraying against his wrists. His breath came in short gasps. He felt the ache deep inside him, the tingling burn spreading from the tip of his cock up to his navel and all the way back to his rim, stretched wide around Garak’s angled prUt.

"That's four."

Julian bit back a whimper. A tear leaked out the corner of his eye and sweat dripped from his brow. Four times. Four times his orgasm had been denied. Four times after he had first come, ejaculate spilling out of his cock to soak into the pale bedsheets, four times after the briefest of refractory periods had led to this endless teasing, his oversensitized cock brought to the brink again and again and again, and then denied.

The last two times, Garak had thrust into his ass timed to the strokes on his cock, not deep enough to hit Julian’s prostate but still delicious.

Garak had yet to come, had yet to take his own pleasure out of anything but teasing Julian’s lithe body. This was their game: how much could Julian take before he broke... or before Garak gave in and came undone.

Julian wanted Garak's cum in his ass. He wanted Garak to cover the skin of his back, of his chest, of his face with creamy dollops. He wanted to taste the dripping slick of an aroused ajan, to feel its sticky viscosity against his lips and chin. He wanted to take Garak’s beautiful, ridged prUt into his mouth and swallow every drop that Garak could give. As much as he wanted Garak to never stop touching him, never stop fucking him, he too wanted to lead, to be free to trace the ridges along Garak's neck with his fingertips and tease around his chula for as long as he wanted.

Maybe if he won the game this time, he would spend hours just on Garak's chu’en, playing with lips and teeth and tongue and fingers… and ice...and feathers…

Julian keened. Garak had begun moving again, rocking his hips back and forth, his prUt sliding against Julian's inner walls. His gray palm was wrapped, still, around Julian's cock, strong fingers pinching around the base. His other hand pressed firmly into Julian’s belly, holding him tightly in position.

Julian's knees dug into the mattress and his feet flexed against the mussed sheets. His brain was a haze of pain and pleasure and Garak. How long had it been? How long since Garak had thrown him on the bed, tied him to the headboard, and growled, "My turn," before taking Julian roughly from behind? Time was lost to thoughts only of his cock and Garak’s prUt and the places where their gray and golden bodies joined together to create one writhing creature of pure, teasing sensation.

With a sudden, strong thrust Garak pushed himself in to the hilt, and Julian saw stars as he hit that wonderful bundle of nerves deep inside.

His cock, still held tightly immobile, throbbed. Julian sobbed at the intensity of his body’s responses.

He wanted more and he couldn't take any more. He hadn't ever thought both could be possible at the same time - not until Garak.

The hand at his cock eased its vise-like grip and began to move again, gently, feather-light strokes up and down the veiny skin. Fingernails dragged against foreskin, the briefest of scratches flicked along the underside, and Julian moaned.

"Just say the word, my dear."

But Julian had forgotten how to speak. His mouth was wide open, gasping at every thrust against his prostate, his tongue wet with pooling saliva. His eyes were shut tight, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His body was electrified by every thrust, every stroke, every miniscule sensation against and inside his skin transformed into unbelievable, building pleasure. His mind was holding on by just a thread, his thoughts lost in the crackle of nerves and the image of a scaly Cardassian hand.

And when the touch of cool fingers moved from his belly to tightly cup his bollocks, his mind fractured, shattered into a million pieces as every nerve snapped in release. He cried out, his mouth shaping the only word he could: "Elim!" Cum spurted from his throbbing cock, painting his chest and dripping down onto the bedsheets.

But Garak didn't stop - didn't stop thrusting, didn't stop stroking, and Julian's body tipped from the aftershocks of pleasure into flaming pinpricks of too much.

"Garak--" his mouth formed the words before his brain could think them. "Garak, please."

At the word, he felt Garak's orgasm deep inside his belly, his prUt throbbing and a warm wetness filling him. His own body sizzled with electricity once more at the sensation, and he came again, cum dribbling from his cock, his cries inarticulate and loud enough to rouse the entire station.

Then he blacked out.


The sheets were ruined - torn and filthy; the third set that month that would need to be reclamated instead of cleaned. When Julian came to, he could feel their drying stickiness against his stomach.

Garak was spooning him, his long gray arms wrapped around Julian and his chin nuzzled into the curve of Julian’s neck. Julian could feel a sticky wetness in the crack of his ass; his channel felt raw and empty.

"Elim," he croaked as he swiveled his head to gaze at his lover.

Garak's blue eyes were soft, his smile low.

"Was that good for you, my dear?"

A shiver ran through Julian's body. He felt worn out, used, limp and sated and weak.

"Very, Elim. Very."

He dropped a soft kiss against his lover’s smiling mouth, twisting his neck and pressing their bodies even more closely together.

As he pulled away, his eyes lingered on the rope handcuffs still dangling from the headboard. A thought flashed through his mind… an image of Garak tied spread-eagled on the bed, his ajan dripping and his prUt everted, his scales flushed dark as Julian…

"Not now, my dear." Garak's teasing voice cut through his thoughts. His hazel eyes refocused on Garak's bright blue ones.

Garak’s gaze held promise, but also resolve. "You need a good, long bath before anything else."

Julian chuckled and nestled deeper into his lover’s arms. Garak was right, and he could dimly tell that his body was teetering towards a drop. But right now, all he wanted was to hold Garak close, inhaling his sharp scent and feeling his heart thud against his chest. If this is what it meant to lose their game, he’d be content to play forever.