This story is a work of colorful and slashy fiction. Names, 
characters, places and incidents have been long-standing
slaves of Paramount Pictures. Any resemblance to actual 
events or locales or persons, living or dead, is probably
because the author has written too many of these already.
Forgive her.

STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE is a Registered Trademark ® of 
Paramount Pictures.  Copyright (c) 1996 by Paramount Pictures. 
All Rights Reserved. No infringement was meant.  Well, not
consciously anyway.


TITLE:   A FORTUITOUS ACCIDENT
AUTHOR:  BGM
RATING:  NC-17 (for some sexually-explicit contents)
PAIRING: Garak/Bashir
NOTE 1:  I confess, I'm pulling out old stuff ... but hey, some 
                 people might not have read them, so ... :)

---------------------------------------------------------

*Damn, damn, DAMN!* Garak cursed mentally, sprinting through the 
Promenade like a wild Tarkalean beast and clutching his hand tightly against his 
chest.  Strolling civilians gasped and stepped out of his way as they noted the 
dark blood which seeped through his fingers, leaving a crimson trail behind him. 

Quickly, he rounded a corner and entered the infirmary, out of breath. 

"Doctor!" he bellowed, looking around frantically as he searched for the
young man. 

Bashir's nurse was promptly at his side. "Can I help yo--" She interrupted herself 
when she caught his wounded hand, her eyes widening fractionally. "Oh dear . . . 
Doctor Bashir!" she cried, this time louder than Garak's previous call.

A door hissed open, and Julian stepped through. "What in dear Gods is all the 
commotion . . ." he began, having evidently been roused from sleep. He paused at 
the quarantine room's door. "Garak!" he exclaimed, quickly moving forward and 
taking the Cardassian's injured hand in his. "Goodness what happened?"     

Gritting his teeth, Garak leaned back with a grimace as he let Julian take care of 
his injury. "A -- an unfortunate accident, Doctor. I was careless . . ." he winced as 
Julian turned over his hand, revealing the deep laceration in his palm. 

He shook his head and turned to his nurse. "Get me the dermal regenerator." He 
flashed the tailor an acquiescent smile. "It's not as serious as it looks. You just 
tore an artery."

"Oh is that all?" Garak asked sardonically, wincing again as Julian carefully 
wiped the excess blood with a soft swab. 

"Well look, it's stopped bleeding," he remarked. He grinned at the discomfited 
tailor.  "Don't worry, Garak. We'll have you patched up in no time. Why don't 
you make yourself comfortable in the meantime," he suggested, tapping his hand 
on the biobed.

The tailor climbed the bed with diffidence, his hand still in Julian's grasp. He 
curled his lips at the sight of it, and averted his eyes.

Julian frowned. "Now don't tell me the sight of blood sickens you Garak. Of all 
people, you'd think you gotten used to it." He flinched and immediately regretted 
the words.

Garak turned sharply, the blue of his gaze staring unforgivingly into Bashir's 
wide eyes. "On the contrary doctor. When you've seen it on your compatriots and 
your friends -- when you've spilled it yourself -- you *don't* get used to it."  

Julian's face flooded with contriteness. "Oh Garak, I'm sorry. I didn't mean 
anything by it . . . really."

The tailor sighed loudly, slumping his posture. "No, it is I who should apologize. 
It has been a . . . hard day."

"I can sympathize," Julian grumbled. The nurse came back and gave him the 
dermal regenerator. As he hovered it over the tailor's injury, Bashir explained his 
day with a slight curve in his lips.  "It seems that some of the station's children 
decided to go on an expedition this morning . . ." he muttered. "One that ended up 
with four scratched knees, two broken arms and three mild concussions. Nothing 
serious, but the noise! Trying to keep a seven year old to stay still is like asking a 
Klingon to dance ballet."

Garak chuckled at the image, slowly ignoring the pain his hand had been sending 
him. Instead, he began focusing on Julian's nimble fingers as they played across 
his skin; a sensation which conveyed tantalizing shivers that subtly pulled at his 
groin. 

He cleared his throat and thought of something else. With a shrug, he said,  "I've 
always found it inappropriate for children to remain aboard a military 
installation," he remarked.

"Well . . . the station is hardly military anymore, but I do agree with you on a 
certain level," Julian added absently as he diligently sutured the rest of  Garak's 
hand. "There," he beamed, releasing the hand for the tailor's inspection. 

The tailor flexed it, nodding approvingly at the result. "Thank you doctor.  That 
was most . . . kind of you."

"Just doing my job," Julian supplied proudly. "And since you *are* here," he 
added mischievously. "I hope you won't give me any grief about your annual 
physical," he scolded mockingly, gesturing at his nurse. She left swiftly,  leaving 
both men alone. 

Garak shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Doctor, even though I can understand 
the logic in it, I really don't see why this is necessary. I'm in perfect health."

"Oh don't tell me you're afraid of a harmless physical, Garak," the young doctor 
chided pleasantly. He turned toward his console and retrieved a padd. "Now then. 
Remove your clothes."

Garak sighed loudly. Evidently, there was no way out of this. With deliberate 
slowness, he began stripping until he was clad in only his briefs.   

Julian turned, his usual smile on his lips. 

Yet there were swirls of emotions behind the placid golden face. As he walked 
back toward his patient, it took him every shred of control not to look down and 
admire the tailor's masculine curves. Instead, he focused on Garak's almond 
shaped blue eyes, finding there a sort of disquiet.

He frowned. "Garak, are you truly nervous?" he asked suddenly, realizing that 
Garak's restraining attitude was perhaps not associated with pride after all.  
"Because there's really nothing to be afraid of," he added.

Garak squared his shoulder, pressing down a quiver; DS9's climate control was 
*really* not to his satisfaction. "I am not *afraid* Doctor. I simply don't see the . 
. . need for this." 

He swallowed nervously as Julian pressed a warm affectionate hand on his 
shoulder. He didn't know how much longer he could effectively hide the burning 
passion which stirred his body.  "I wouldn't want you to be catching Tarkalean 
Death flu, now would I?" Julian whispered with a soothing smile.

"Nor would I, Doctor," Garak conceded. He sighed again. "Just get it over with."

Julian scowled over his padd. He really didn't see why Garak was so nervous. He 
must be aware that a physical merely involved a routine scan of vital signs and 
a visual inspection for any outward symptoms. 

But as he pressed the Cardassian into a lain position, his gaze unwittingly drifted 
downward, where the tailor's partially erect member stretched the black 
underwear. Then everything seemed suddenly clear. Julian finally realized *why*
Garak was so tense, and what's more, he noticed that Garak had just seen the 
revelation in his eyes.

"*That's* why I'm so nervous, Doctor," Garak whispered, echoing Julian's 
thoughts.  

Professionalism struggled against desire. "It's only natural," he stammered. "I 
mean, I get a lot of patients  who -- hum, I mean some men do occasionally-" 

A cool hand circled his wrist, mercifully ending the string of explanations. 
Julian looked up speculatively at the tailor.

"Doctor," he said with a sly smile. "I think you know full well that this isn't just 
some reflex." He sat up, his face bent down only slightly to meet with Julian's 
scintillating eyes. "I don't think you're *that* naive."

Julian swallowed hard, loosing himself in Garak's brilliant blue eyes. But the cool 
feeling of the computer padd in his hand reminded him of where they were.   "I -- 
No, I'm not. I just don't think this is the place . . . Or, hum, not the time to--"

The grasp on his wrist tightened. "Not the time in our relationship, or not the time 
because you're on duty?" the tailor asked seriously. His eyes searched the young 
man's, looking for an answer.  

Julian glanced at the outside, realizing with fright that people might see them. 
He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "We can go to the quarantine room," he 
whispered. "I can *show* you the answer . . ." he suggested seductively.

But Garak's eyes held a different light. "Why move?" he inquired silkily. "This 
bed seems comfortable enough. There's always the floor if you find it too high."

Was he being serious?! Julian gaped at the thought. Chuckling, Garak took the 
opportunity to seal the parted lips with a deep passionate kiss.  

Julian's protests faded into muffled sounds within Garak's warm mouth. He 
dropped the padd as he brought his hands against the tailor's wide chest, pushing 
at it to pry himself away, but evidently not struggling exceedingly hard. The scent 
of their arousal filled him with intense desires, and for a moment Julian forgot 
they were in perfect view of anyone who risked a glance inside the infirmary.

"Gar--Garak!" he finally cried, panting loudly as they parted. The tailor's lust-
filled eyes connected with his. 

"Ah my dear doctor," he said at last, brushing his massive fingers across the 
doctor's cheeks. "Such shyness . . . Very well," he whispered hoarsely, grasping 
the doctor's arm. He led him toward the quarantine room, all the while glancing 
seductively at his cherished doctor.

Julian's heart raced as he let himself be led inside the wide room. The tailor's hold 
was comfortable, so longed for. He sighed contentedly as the as door closed in a 
soft hiss behind them.

Garak didn't let go of Julian. Instead, he pulled him closer, mischief dancing 
behind his pale lips. "Better?" he asked deviously.

Julian grinned. "Much," he agreed.       

"Now then. I believe you owe me an answer," Garak murmured, roving his hand 
over Julian's chest. He found the clasp and slowly slid it down, never breaking his 
visual hold on the doctor. He slipped a cool hand inside the uniform, tugging the 
lavender shirt free. Smiling, he bent forward and caressed the young man's neck 
with his tongue, massaging the doctor's skin with exquisite aptness.

"Mmmh, oh yes," Julian whispered, tilting his head backward to allow easier 
access. Suddenly, the shirt was pulled over his head, and the jumpsuit peeled off 
at his waist. Graceful fingers played tantalizing sensations across his chest as 
Garak continued his leisure exploration of Julian's throat.    

Soon, Garak had Julian writhing against him, becoming aware of his own 
erection straining against its prison. Pausing, he looked around for a bed, and 
found one directly behind the doctor. 

"How convenient!" he grinned, pushing gently at Julian for him to lie down. He 
surmised it was there for Julian's purpose, during those long nights when the 
Doctor was too tired to retire to his quarters. How lonely for him! He promised 
himself to visit the Infirmary more often during those nights.   

As for Julian, he watched the tailor ravenously as he backed away to get rid of his 
underwear. Too many nights had been spent in fantasizing about the tailor, too 
many lunches where he'd been teased and flirted to without daring to respond.   
Well, he smiled, that was about to change. 

As Garak peeled off his briefs, Julian sighed in contentment, admiring the 
Cardassian's exotic curves. Ornate scales garnished most places; at the curves of 
his shoulders and tracing the sharply defined muscles on his chest and stomach. 
The large neck ridges continued down his arms, to the wrists where they faded 
into smooth gray skin, and a patch of delicate scales traced his clavicles and the 
hollow at the base of his neck. 

Most importantly of all was his firm sex, now fully erect, with two peculiar ridges 
running down its length. Julian licked his lips at the delicious sight, and Garak 
laughed appreciatively. "Thank you," he nodded. "Now," he said softly,  climbing 
the bed and straddling the doctor's thin frame. "I think it's time we discovered 
what delights *you're* hiding from me, my dear Doctor," he smiled, tugging 
suggestively at the crumpled uniform at his waist. 

Julian spared no time. Evidently much aroused now, he fumbled at the uniform, 
sliding it down his legs quickly. Garak lifted himself up and helped Julian as he 
took the rest of his clothes and threw it aside. "Now," he sighed, pressing down. 
"Much better, wouldn't you agree?"

A moan escaped Julian's lips as Garak emphatically brushed his erection against 
the doctor's. Smiling, he then resumed his quest along the graceful curve of 
Bashir's neck, licking and nibbling the skin.

"Oh Elim," Julian called breathlessly, urgently caressing the tailor's textured back 
with long graceful fingers.    

Garak paused suddenly, looking down at Julian with a bright cheerful grin. "How 
wonderfully clever of you!" he complimented. "I was wondering when you'd 
figure it out," he teased, nuzzling his nose at Julian's neck. "Well then," he 
whispered. "I suppose I should call you Julian now . . ."

With a sudden growl, the young man rolled over and pinned the Cardassian under 
him. He looked down, hunger plain in his wide eyes. "You know what? I think 
it's in my professional opinion that a more thorough examination is required," he 
nodded.

Garak wiggled his scaly brow mockingly. "I *do* hope thinking isn't the only 
thing you're intent on doing . . ."   

Needing no further encouragement, Julian grinned deviously as he slid down the 
tailor's body, darting his tongue across everything on his path, gauging the 
Cardassian's reaction to each stimulation. 

A loud groan escaped the tailor's mouth as Julian finally paid attention to his 
aching need. His powerful hands clutched the sheets at his side as Julian began to 
carefully lick the tip of his erection, sucking gently and savoring the 
Cardassian's foreign, yet enticing  taste. He roved his tongue to the side, 
copiously focusing his attention on the delicate ridges, knowing it stimulated the 
Cardassian beyond pleasure. He certainly didn't need his medical books to prove 
him that; Garak was almost shouting now, and Julian was soon rewarded with a 
generous amount of the tailor's seed as he came powerfully in his mouth. 
Julian swallowed everything given to him, and took a few moments more to lick 
the tailor's member with precious care.  

Hands curled into his hair, and lifted his face up. Garak was staring at him with 
loving, if not extremely lustful eyes. "Dearest Julian," he said breathlessly.  "I'd 
say there's more than ample hope for you yet," he grinned, falling back on the 
phrase he often teased him with. Strong arms pulled him up until  Garak could 
press his lips to Julian's, parting them with his questing tongue and exploring the 
doctor's mouth with passionate insistence. Under him, Julian felt the Cardassian 
hardening again, and his own member ached terribly with the need to release. 

The tailor guessed it as well, and promptly moved to the replicator for some 
lubricant. When he returned and applied a generous amount on his erection, 
Julian smiled and moved to turn over on his stomach. Yet Garak's firm hands 
halted his movements, and Bashir looked up in surprise. "Pardon me 
Julian, but I want to see your exquisite eyes when you release . . ." he whispered 
hoarsely, binding Julian's hands above his head with an iron grip. 
"Indulge me, please," he purred, burying his tongue between Julian's lips even as 
he pressed his erection insistently between the doctor's legs.  

Julian had never felt this excited in his previous encounters. Garak's weight on 
him was sensual, the cool clasps on his wrists strangely arousing. The doctor had 
never allowed himself to be led like this before, but somehow, with Garak, it 
seemed natural. The tailor evidently knew what he was doing, and he was doing it 
quite aptly as well! Thus his legs came easily apart, taking comfortable rest 
against the tailor's broad shoulders. 
 
Closing his eyes in bliss, Garak plunged in without admonition, sliding in up to 
the hilt and pausing there to savor the moment. Julian let out a powerful moan 
and strained his wrists against Garak's grip. The tailor's free hand snaked between 
their pressed bodies and circled the doctor's throbbing sex, stimulating 
it with a firm hand.     

At last Garak began moving, thrusting slowly at first as to not hurt his precious 
doctor, more firmly when Julian's cries became more abandoned and his hips 
swayed wildly in a silent demand for more. Garak opened his eyes, staring deep 
into Julian's own, seeing there the pleasure, the ecstasy, the love. He smiled and 
pressed his lips to the doctor's without kissing, simply reveling in the closeness. 
Now thrusting wildly, Garak let go of Julian's wrists and braced himself on the 
bed, his other hand still matching his thrusts on Julian's rigid sex until release was 
inevitable.  

Julian cried aloud as he came, gripping the tailor's fingers on his sex as he 
released his seed onto their joint hands. Garak was not far behind, stimulated 
beyond reason by the tightening over his erection. He gasped, never breaking his 
visual hold with Julian, never once wavering to miss his lover's smoldering eyes 
locked on his own as he emptied himself in Julian. 

At last the thrusts quieted down, up until both were still and their hard breathing 
was the only sound breaking the silence. Garak remaining inside for a few 
moments more as he kissed Julian, beginning to feel the assault of sleep's 
embrace. He finally slid out, then protectively contoured Julian's body as they 
snuggled comfortably against each other. 

After a few moments of thoughtful stillness, Garak chuckled lightly and said, 
"Remind me never to turn down a physical again."

"Don't worry," Julian laughed wearily. "I'll be sure to remind you. In fact, I think 
it'd be wise to monitor your condition on a daily basis."

Garak's grip tightened. "You're the doctor. Who am I to argue?"  

They both chuckled at the new possibilities, and soon fell asleep, each insouciant 
of the world outside.

THE END