Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom own Garak and Bashir; I am borrowing them
for a not-for-profit fan story and in no way intend to infringe on the
Paramount/Viacom copyright.

Warning: This is a PWP. There is not even the pretence of a plot. If you are
offended by m/m interaction, read no further!

Warning #2: Despite its title, contains no actual racquetball. :0)

Summary: Mark -- uh, I mean Garak, yeah... Garak has one too many naughty
impulses regarding that little silver thing.

~~~

The Racquetball Game
by Mark Stanley

~~~

Garak tried to concentrate on his book. He was supposed to be re-reading one
of his favourites before lending it to Bashir.

His young love was wandering about their quarters, clad in his racquetball
outfit. Garak was discovering that the skin-tight silver thing was even more
alluring than the sight of Julian's nude body. 

It came up to his throat in a falsely modest high collar. Every square
centimetre of his flesh was covered save his head and hands. There was even
a double panel in the front which kept the body-hugging stretch fabric from
revealing too much.

It was the combination of modesty and revelation which made Garak follow
Julian's movements. The young human collected his racquet and ball, then
turned to catch Garak's eyes.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring," the young man murmured.

Garak nodded. "You're beautiful," he explained.

Julian blushed and veiled his eyes, smiling demurely.

Garak drew his eyes over the beautiful body again. This time the double
panelling was utterly useless.

Garak stood and moved to where Julian waited. He kissed the back of Julian's
neck, trailing his hands down Julian's sides.

Julian gasped sharply as he was touched through his clothing.

Garak cupped his rear, moving to kiss the side of his throat, licking his
ear delicately as Garak's deft fingers slipped between his legs to caress
him through the slippery fabric. Garak's left hand slid from his lips, down
his throat, over his chest, tickling his flat belly.

Julian let out a little cry as Garak's hand caressed his hard cock and his
balls.

"Elim, let me take this thing off before -- "

"I'll clean it," Garak interrupted. 

Julian trembled slightly, sending shivers through Garak's chest. He looked
so beautiful this way, biting his plump red lower lip, cheeks flushed with
hectic colour, chest heaving, pulse pounding... Garak could feel it speed
under his mouth as he bit Julian's throat gently.

"Mmmm..."

The sound went right to Garak's blood. One finger rubbed gently at Julian's
sensitive opening; his other hand squeezed Julian's balls. "Do you want me
to make you come?" he whispered, kissing just below Julian's ear.

"...yes..."

"Do you have a racquetball game soon?" Garak asked in the same tone as he
continued to fondle the boy through his clothing.

"Miles and I are -- mmm... we're meeting in a few minutes, but..."

"Yes?"

"Oh! I think I can stand to be late."

"Ah." He gripped Julian's penis firmly, pumping it hard until Julian cried
out inarticulately.

Julian clung to Garak as he panted, shaking, recovering slowly. Then, when
he had his breath, he threw himself into a kiss. 

Garak smiled as Julian drew back, taking his chin between a thumb and
forefinger. "Now, my dear," he murmured affectionately, "let us find you
something else to wear to your game!"

~~~

The End 
Mark

-- 

mrs260@mail.usask.ca

http://members.tripod.com/~MarkStanley/index.html