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Your Unrelenting Hold on Me

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When Cardassians are mating, a precise bite to the neck will render your partner motionless, keeping them in place to allow the final moment of release to occur while locked inside and improve chances of conception.

Julian occasionally reminds Elim that he is a human and not a Cardassian. He has delicate skin and blood vessels there, not scutes and a network of sensitive reproductive receptors hooked directly into the limbic system. It doesn’t work for him. He also comments on how similar the practice is to the copulation style of certain Earth reptiles, which is not a very flattering comparison. That doesn’t stop Elim from trying, though.

When they’re in the throes of passion, Elim often bites Julian. He can’t help it. It’s visceral, a biological imperative, a drive. If Julian isn’t expecting it, he might yell. “Bastard! That hurt!” He might smack Elim on the behind for good measure, not terribly hard but enough to smart, which really doesn’t do anything to calm him down.

If Julian is feeling romantic, he might play along and go limp, permitting Elim to take over and simply fuck the both of them silly until one or the other comes and/or wilts from exhaustion. If he’s had an amusing day, or in a humorous mood, or consumed alcohol, he may or may not be able to keep up the act and may instead burst into laughter and begin making ridiculous exclamations. “Yes! Oh Elim, show me who’s boss! I’m so helpless! If only we were back in the swamp!” This ends with mixed results, depending on Elim’s own mood. He might bite back harder. He might growl and worry at the flesh in warning. If he’s intoxicated as well, his hindbrain may even kick it into high gear so that he loses all memory of what happens beyond that. Julian claims he goes tenderly feral, muttering and purring and speaking of breeding his lover like a good little regnar amid nuzzles and nips and moans. Elim isn’t bringing in a recording device to disprove it.

One time, mischievous imp that he is, at the moment of erotic contact between Elim’s clenched mouth and Julian’s trapezius muscle, Julian tapped his PADD on the bedside table to play some Terran tune from the 20th century. “I want to fuck you like an animal. I want to feel you from the inside-”

The consequent reaction had been… interesting.

Elim completely froze up at the initial sound, unused to the vocals of others interrupting their lovemaking. But then the lyrics worked their way in, one feverish, primal, intense line at a time, and he’d surrendered to the sentiment, the sway, the rhythm in a way he never had before. Julian said it had something to do with music’s connection to the ancient humanoid brain, a common feature of the wiring in most races around the quadrant.

From there on out, all Julian had to do was play the song softly in the background, a throbbing murmur upon arriving home or getting ready for bed, or once while Elim was cooking dinner, and Elim was instantly ready to rip his clothes off right there and take the impertinent and smirking younger man right where he stood. It didn’t happen often, Julian knew not to overdo it, but it did make for a very effective stress relief after a particularly taxing day.

There is also the matter of Julian biting Elim during the times they switch roles. He’s learned the precise location, the angle, which teeth to use and how hard to apply pressure. He’s adapted to maintaining hold while swiveling his hips in true Cardassian instinctual fashion. He’s listened, adjusted, improved upon. He’s quite good.

It doesn’t work one hundred percent at stilling Elim. After all, he doesn’t have the organs capable of bearing young and therefore the nerve connections are not as reinforced as in others of his race. But the nerves are still there, still present in high enough concentrations to make Elim’s brain white out, his chu’en to tingle, and his blood to thrum. He does lose some level of control to most of his limbs. He does, in fact, even yell. Loud enough to disturb the neighbors, apparently. So they try to save it for visits to the holosuites when possible.

Julian is intrigued by the entire process; he can’t help it. He’s always been naturally curious, he’s a dedicated and brilliant doctor, and perhaps most significantly of all, he’s an unrepentant xenophile. Always has been, always will be. He’s made the suggestion more than once that maybe one day he can undergo transformative surgery to become a Cardassian himself, and the concept is so wildly improbable but incredibly captivating that Elim will just about lose his mind at the mere mention and subsequent image blooming in his mind and overtaking his entire focus. What follows is, of course, a different type of bloom, which is probably Julian’s intent in the first place, the insatiable hussy. He’s utterly shameless.

Although so is Elim, if he’s honest with himself.

Elim’s not above luring Julian into complacency, into rubbing him down with oils and massaging up and up until his arms are stretched over his head so prettily, and then Elim is tying them to the headboard, and Julian can’t escape or fight back, and Elim can tie down his legs as well, after removing Julian’s pants and folding them over a chair, and he can take his sweet time exploring and tormenting each and every inch of his lover’s body until he’s a sobbing and twitching mess , and then Elim can bite down as long and hard as he pleases and there’s nothing anyone can do about it as he chases his climax, except that is to come along with him, and at least in that respect Julian is usually eager to follow. Elim is also very, very good.

He’s had a lifetime to hone his techniques, to memorize and manipulate every sign of the body, to capture and capitalize on every flutter of the eyelashes, every flick of the fingers, every hitch of the breath and swipe of the tongue over parched, panting lips. Using his finely tuned skills to elicit pleasure rather than pain is, perhaps, one of the most gratifying aspects of his new existence. This rich and luminescent world that Julian has unfolded for him, inside him, around him, within the very fiber of his core.

Someday in the hazy and distant and uncertain future, he’s going to bite down on Julian’s slender and sweat-soaked, coppery neck, and he’s not going to want to let go. He’s going to clamp down and black out, and he’s going to come to on his back while being wiped down with a soft cloth and an angelic face hovering over his with eyes full of love, and he’s going to ask Julian to be his forever.

And Julian’s going to smile, and he’s going to sit down alongside and bend over, and he’s going to kiss Elim on the mouth, so gently, and they’re going to press their foreheads together and hold one another close, and Julian’s going to slide his head to the side so that his lips are pressed to Elim’s ear, and he’s going to whisper a single word.


And then neither of them will ever let go again.