Starlight
By Olivia Montieth

           
The room was cast partially in velvet darkness, partially in silvery 
starlight. The only sounds to be heard were ragged breathing, muffled 
sobs, and pleasured gasps. Only occasionally a coherent word could be 
picked up, an endearment, a name, or pleading and desperate request.
           
The young human's mind was still in a whirl, not quite sure how this turn 
of events came about, and at the moment, not really caring. All that 
mattered was that it was happening. 
           
He stretched out his arm and laid his splayed hand on the shoulder of his 
companion and lover, noting that while the darkness made his skin take on 
the cast of old bronze, the other man's skin seemed luminescent silver. In 
the shadowy darkness, only pieces of the other man could be seen; a solid, 
ridged arm as it reached out to him in return, the shape of the large fingers 
as they trailed up his own forearm, the graceful curve of well muscled 
ribs, the patterned mosaic of a scaled neckridge. Only occasionally did he 
catch sight of the icy blue eyes, or the parted lips that tasted faintly of the 
sweet kanaar the older man had partaken of earlier.
          
He shivered involuntarily, deliciously as the thicker form rose over him, 
pressed down on him. It was frightening, and terribly exciting, the way the 
other man gripped his wrists in firm but tender hands. His body shuddered  
when the form swooped down over his throat, nipping at the delicate 
sensitive flesh, just above his jugular vein. Those large hands opened, and 
slid up to wrap the thick fingers in his slender ones, so that their hands 
were intertwined as their bodies were.
          
The insistent mouth at his throat followed the vein up, to nudged his face, 
pushing him to turn his head. The lips moved over his ears, sending 
arousing tickles down his spine and out to every nerve ending in his body. 
A rough pointed tongue traced the swirls of the outer ear before delving 
slightly to the  center. Occasionally he heard words, some in Standard, 
some in Kardasi. "Beautiful", "Love", "Surad" and his name were repeated 
over and over, whispered fervently, whether it was intended for him, or to 
reassure the Cardassian that this was happening. 
          
Even teeth closed over the top of his ear, the quick pain only arousing him 
more. He found himself lifting his hips to grind against the body above 
him, desperate for release. Before he knew what he was saying, he was 
shocked to hear his own voice, heavy and harsh with need, begging, 
"Please, please, Garak." He didn't know what he was asking for, he only 
knew he couldn't stop himself. It became a mantra. "Oh, Garak, please, 
please," growing in urgency, till his voice was shaking with tension, on the 
verge of tears. 
          
Slowly, one of the large hands slid down his arm, over his chest, across 
the smooth expanse of his stomach, finally finding it's way to his groin.
          
Whispered pleas became shouts, and demands. Soft gyrations of his hips 
became nearly violent thrusts. His free hand flew to grip one neckridge, 
fingers digging in, massaging deeply. It was so good, so perfect, so 
wonderful. Before he knew it was happening, orgasm rushed over him, the 
sensations flooding his body, bringing tears to his eyes, and taking his 
mind to the edge of sanity. His head bent back, throat exposed. His back 
arched, catlike, and a bone deep cry poured from him. The display sent his 
lover over the brink, into the abyss. The Cardassian came with a low 
purring rumble that was felt more than heard.
           
After long minutes spent trying to calm their bodies, and catch their 
breath, they joined for a long, slow and tender kiss, still gliding against 
one another, murmuring soothing words, ensuring that all was well. 
Gradually, the Cardassian eased his body down to the bed lying next to 
Bashir, enjoying the sight of his skin shining with perspiration as the 
starlight bounced off of his well defined chest. He could just make out the 
silhouette of his young friend, the pointed chin, the full lips, slightly 
parted, and the smooth, unadorned brow. His fingers went to twist and tug 
lightly in the damp curls of the beautiful hair. He breathed deeply the 
scent of human sweat, listened to the sound of still slightly labored 
breathing, committing everything to memory.