Archive of Our Own

“Shore leave? What do you mean, ‘shore leave’?!”

“I mean, Julian, that Keiko and I are going to Bajor for eight days. To relax. You know – a holiday. Vacation.”

Julian was incensed. Everyone in the Docking Ring picked up on his flaming ire and maintained a wide berth around him as they moved towards the airlock. “How could you not tell me, Miles?! I booked us our holosuite game for tonight! We had tomorrow afternoon set for darts! You were going to take me kayaking!”

Miles gave an ongoing apologetic smile, eyebrows angled outwards. “And we’ll do all that, Julian. When I get back.” He reached to touch Julian’s arm, but Julian wrenched away from him. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am, but Keiko made me swear not to tell you before we were ready to disembark.”

“What?! Why?!” Julian flared out his hands. “If I’d known you were going I would’ve taken shore leave myself, I could’ve come with you!”

Miles managed to touch Julian’s arm this time. “I think that’s why.”

Julian deflated, all pouty and sad. “Hm.”

Miles sighed and leaned in to give him a hug. Julian hugged back.

“It’s just meant to be me and my wife, that’s all,” Miles muttered against Julian’s shoulder. “The kids are staying with Dax and Worf. We just... needed some time alone.”

“Hmph.” Julian fell back, chagrined. “I suppose I’ll just have to find someone else to play Falcon. Pity, you’ll miss this holosuite chapter – it was the storyline with the treasure map.”

“Oi-oi-oi! Don’t go replacing me just like that. I’m coming back.”

Julian smirked. “Serves you right for replacing me with your wife.”

Miles looked both baffled and cross, but sighed and let the annoyance go. “Take care of yourself, Julian, alright? Eight days won’t feel like that long.”

Oh, if only that were true. Unwilling to be left alone, Julian took Miles into one more lingering hug.

He dropped back when Miles patted him. Julian turned away, grumpy, but looked back for just long enough to see his friend wrap an arm around Keiko and take her onto the departing shuttle.

Keiko looked back and mouthed “Sorry,” then blew a kiss.

Julian batted the kiss away with an invisible tennis racket, but then grinned, and swiped a hand forgivingly through the air. Miles and Keiko both waved, then disappeared into the crowd of other passengers bound for Bajor.

“I need cufflinks.” Julian slammed a strip of latinum down on Garak’s customer service desk. “Preferably with tiny hidden compartments I can stash poison inside.”

Garak looked at the latinum, then at Julian’s ruffled tuxedo. “A bit early in the evening for a murder, isn’t it?”

“Ohh,” Julian murmured darkly, “I wouldn’t think there’s ever a bad time.” He was mildly subdued by Garak’s smirk but instantly admitted, “It’s just—! Miles left for Bajor without me! Without telling me! And I have two hours booked in the holosuite and Quark won’t let me cancel without charging me for the time and a cancellation fee, and I’ve played all the previous chapters of Julian Bashir: Secret Agent already, and Miles was supposed to be here and play Falcon, and we’d finally do battle and figure out where that treasure is hidden. Together!”

Garak searched his button drawers for cufflinks. “Aah, the betrayal of a friend and the complacency of a single-minded barman. How harrowing that must be for you. The purest motive for a double homicide, surely. I’m sure Constable Odo will be merciful.”

Julian snorted. “I’m not going to kill anyone, Garak. At least nobody real. I’m heading to the holosuite, and I’m going to play my game whether Miles is here or not. Obviously, I’d prefer having an actual person’s unpredictability as opposed to a computer script to riff off – it was supposed to be a social engagement. But it is what it is.”

He snatched the oval lapis lazuli cufflinks Garak gave him and began forcing their golden stems through the buttonholes at his pulse points. “This chapter has a huge role for the villain. Miles was really looking forward to this one. We both were.” Julian finished with the cuffs, but remained all stiff with irritation. “I just can’t believe Miles would rather sneak away and spend so much time with someone else when I could make him so happy if he just gave me the damn chance.”

Garak gave a small sigh. Julian glanced at him, wondering why he suddenly looked crestfallen. Noticing he’d been noticed, Garak instantly worked up a smile that reached his eyes, yet it wasn’t completely convincing.

“I hope you enjoy your program, doctor,” Garak said with a nod. “And if you ever do need help procuring some real poison...” He trailed off invitingly.

Julian tutted. “Aren’t you going to take this?” He shoved the latinum across the table by a few more inches.

“Oh, not at all. My gift for you.” Garak touched Julian’s hand and used the touch to push the latinum back. “Nobody else deserves cufflinks with hidden compartments more.”

Julian gave a pleased little huff. He slowly pocketed the latinum, lips slowly parting as he watched Garak turn his back and return to folding fabric.

“Garak...?”

“Hm?”

Julian wet his lips. “You wouldn’t want to play with me, would you?”

Garak’s blue eyes shot to meet Julian’s. “‘Play’?”

“The holosuite game. Take the villain’s role.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Garak brushed aside carelessly. “That monstrous leather jacket would look so dreadfully unflattering on my figure. And the eye patch – hah! Certainly not.”

Julian grinned and leaned against the tailor’s table, elbow crooked over the top. “How about you pick your own outfit? I know you; it’s not like you’re going to speak or act anything like Falcon’s supposed to. We can pretend you’re Falcon’s... distant cousin.”

“And become nothing but a pale facsimile of your favourite fictional adversary? My dear doctor! You said you knew me.”

“Well, fine, then! Take Falcon’s place in the story, but be – I don’t know – a Cardassian femme fatale. Someone entirely of your own making.”

Garak seemed marginally more interested. “Can I rename the character?”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

Garak suddenly lit up from within. “I have just the outfit! Now, wait for me, doctor; I won’t be a minute.” He bustled off to the back of his shop and began looting through a wardrobe with a sliding door.

Julian followed casually, hands in the pockets of his slacks. He smiled. “So what’s the name of your character?” he asked. “Have anything in mind?”

“Whether the Universal Translator wishes to convey its nuance correctly gives me pause,” Garak said, lifting out the outfit he wanted – something black and huge and glittery. He cast a sparkling look in Julian’s direction. “On Cardassia there’s been many an ancient tale about the phenomenon: a delusory spirit of unwavering perfection who makes a habit of seducing – well, shall we say, those who aspire to such perfection.”

Julian smirked, head down as Garak tucked himself behind the red curtain of a changing room. “And that’s you, is it? Utter perfection?”

“I’ll admit I feel a certain draw to the concept,” Garak said, grunting as he undressed and made the curtain waft. “Although, given that fact, I’m sure I’m more in danger of being seduced.”

“Glad you said it, because I certainly wasn’t going to.”

Garak chuckled. “Cardassian legend names the creature the Eidolon.”

“Eidolon?” Julian frowned. “Garak, that’s Greek. Means... mirror, reflection. From eidos, meaning shape or form. Same root word as ‘idol’.”

“Damn translators. Although, I must say – how remarkable it is that each of our cultures has a concept so similar that such a mistake could be made.”

“Well, it’s a pretty name to my ears, in any case. Eidolon.”

“A worthy match for you, would you say?”

Julian shrugged. “Depends how you look in that dress.”

“It’s not a dress, doctor.” Garak flung back the curtain and stepped out. He appeared as a dark, regal beauty in his glittery black thigh-length tunic: bulging thick-ribbed sleeves, a split up to his hips on either side, and a close cut at the waist, wrists, and the ankles of his snakeskin-like trousers, altogether making him look as streamlined as a panther and as deadly as a black widow. The darkness of the outfit and his hair made his pale face and eyes glow; an appearance helped by the way he held himself now: chin down, gaze set furiously on Julian, one hand still pressed up to the open curtain. “It is armour.”

Julian gulped, wondering when his mouth had gone dry and why. “It. Y-You.” He tried to smile and grinned instead, halfway breathless. “Garak, you look amazing.”

“Oh.” Garak flapped a hand dismissively. “I know.”

He went to a round mirror perched over a rack of makeup, and pawed to the back of the display to find a tiny unopened palette. He dipped his little finger into the blackest compact powder, then bent down a bit to watch himself smear a dramatic haze under and around each eye.

Julian watched, fascinated. “Falcon would never.”

“And that, my dear doctor, is why,” Garak snapped the palette closed and put it tidily onto his tailor’s desk, “tonight you are playing against Eidolon.”

Garak’s attraction to the doctor’s ridiculous ‘secret agent’ holosuite games began and ended with the excuse they provided to let him spend time with Julian. He didn’t care for the setting, nor the overwhelming vapidity of the stock characters, nor the fact that each storyline was both simplistic and droll.

The costumes, Garak supposed, he could live with. If only because once Julian got himself into a tuxedo, he carried himself with such grace and poise that he seemed to radiate seduction. The fantasy situation lent him confidence in himself that he occasionally lacked elsewhere in his life, leading to wonderful situations such as the time he shot Garak in the neck. Garak still felt warm and tingly in very private places when he thought back on that first game they’d enjoyed together.

What Garak could not abide, however, was the very specific existence of what Julian had taken to calling his ‘Bashir girls’.

They were beautiful and thin and had hair that looked stunning regardless of how windy it was or how long they’d been held prisoner. They had silly names that invariably translated as some kind of sexual reference. Their personalities veered wildly between being annoyingly capable and lacking any sort of Human flaw, to having no substance whatsoever – but either kind of woman existed solely to be kidnapped, rescued, won over, and promptly taken to bed. Sometimes they died for no good reason, and while Garak wasn’t thrilled by the never-ending supply of these characters, he thought it was rather a waste to see them go. They wore their dresses so splendidly.

Eidolon, Garak had decided some moments ago, was to be the first kind of Bashir girl. Capable of anything, able to anticipate Julian’s needs, and provide treats and tortures alike, because after all, the complexity of the villain was what made Julian come back for more. The threads of plot that his adversary laid down throughout each story were what joined each adventure into a saga worthy of his time. Oh yes, Falcon was duplicitous, but he was no Eidolon. Julian was bound to be undone by his most beguiling foil yet.

Except, right now, Garak was standing in a gloomy turquoise cavern, which was supposed to be a lair, or perhaps a dungeon, staring at a grid of what Julian called ‘television’ screens, being made increasingly livid at what he saw on each glowing monochrome square that Julian’s image passed through.

The villain of this story was supposed to be mapping Agent Bashir’s movements as he traversed the medieval castle. The lavish masquerade continued in the ballroom above the lair, but Garak cared not for the sights of black-tie cavorting, as his target was two storeys higher, hand-in-hand with some teetering waif of a woman. They went into an out-of-bounds bedroom, laughing together. There were no cameras inside that room.

Falcon would’ve watched the door, waiting for the right moment to make a move.

Eidolon had no such desire.

Garak gave a violent twist of the filigreed handle and stormed into the bedroom he’d seen on the monitor screens. Julian, shocked to see Garak appear, froze at the foot of the bed with his hands around the woman’s face, lips freshly plucked from a kiss. The woman squealed at the interruption and hurriedly hid behind Julian, who was emboldened now, chin up, eyes defiant.

“You,” Julian said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you,” Garak said coolly. “Guards,” he added, twitching two fingers towards the woman. “If you would escort our esteemed guest back to the ballroom, I would be much obliged. But please,” he added, “don’t hurt her.”

Julian took a breath to argue and moved a step closer to fight, but Garak gripped his arm steady and told him, “I merely wish to engage you in a conversation, Mr. Bashir. A private conversation, solely between you and I.”

Julian turned his eyes from the guards to the woman, and then nodded. “I’ll catch up with you later, Bourgeoisie,” Julian told her.

The woman sighed and slipped away from him, holding his hand until the last moment. Julian’s other forearm remained in Garak’s grip.

Garak smiled as the two helmeted guards led the woman away. All three were equally void of personality. And now that they were gone, the real game could begin...

The bedroom door swung shut, and Eidolon and Agent Bashir were left pressed together, silhouetted in the dusty beams of a summer’s evening as the golden sunset snuck in between the heavy drapes. Julian breathed twice, heavily, then snatched away his arm with a snarl.

“You couldn’t have waited?” Julian demanded. “What do you want from me, Eidolon? You’re the one who invited me here. I thought you’d want me to enjoy myself.”

Ah, so the doctor wanted to stick to the script. Garak’s unsolicited appearance had no doubt skipped over a good forty minutes of gameplay, which explained Julian’s frustration – but there was no indication he wished to reset and start over, despite missing his opportunity to bed the nonentity known as Bourgeoisie. He wanted to go on from here.

So they would.

“Enjoooy yourself?” Eidolon cackled. “My dear agent. As you know, I’ve followed your exploits for some time, and I’m coming to the conclusion that nothing gives you greater pleasure than to spar most intimately with your enemies. The girl... is immaterial. Thus, I present myself to you. Tell me,” he said invitingly, setting his hands behind his back and starting to pace the fur rug under their glossy shoes, “why did you really come to Castle Viverra?”

“You know why. I want the completed map, and the treasure it leads to.”

“Ah, yes!” Garak held up a finger. “The diamond of... Other-Khan.”

“Azir-Khan,” Agent Bashir corrected grimly, with a hint of Julian’s boyish smirk. “I know the treasure is here, Eidolon; I know you’re hiding it. You invited me here to keep an eye on me, so I can’t steal it from you.”

“On the contrary, agent. I do not know of the diamond’s whereabouts, as I only have half the map. But I suspect, as you do, that it remains within the confines of the castle and its grounds. I invited you here to locate the diamond on my behalf. Join forces with me, agent, and with our two halves of the map together, we can find the treasure and return it to its rightful owner.”

Julian’s eyebrows rose. He’d read his personalised story briefing before they started playing, too, and only now did he realise the role Eidolon was to play in his own timeline. This was Agent Bashir’s choice to make: join with the enemy and complete the map, or go it alone. Each choice altered the plot in any number of ways, within certain parameters. He could genuinely make the wrong choice.

“What happens if I don’t agree to cooperate with you?” Julian asked.

Garak shrugged, eyes drifting. “There’s a very attractive heiress in the ballroom who might find herself in a little trouble.”

Julian’s jaw tensed. “You asked your guards not to hurt her. And if you value your life, you won’t hurt her. You said she was immaterial – and to you, she is. She has no value to you besides leverage over me. Because I’m the one who can get you that diamond. But, here’s the thing, Eidolon. If you got your hands on something that valuable, I can’t imagine you’d give it away, let alone return it to the Emir who took everything from you as a child.”

Oh, he was good. He made up stories on the spot as easily as Garak did. Eidolon needed a backstory and Julian was giving him one.

Garak’s smile was wide and sly, and he played off what Julian gave him: “Oh, but you’re quite correct.”

“Am I?”

“Oh yes! What need have I for riches and treasures? Surely I’d be more eager to have revenge. If I had that diamond at least I’d have some leverage over the Emir. That’s how this works, after all: I have something my enemy desperately wants. And they bow to my will in order to retrieve it from me.”

Agent Bashir turned his head, eyes following Eidolon’s steps towards the window. Garak looked out upon golden-glazed lawns, which were mirrored across a gravel path.

“And because I want your half of the map, you expect me to bow to you,” Bashir said. “Is that it?”

“So it goes, agent,” Eidolon said airily. “You try to figure out my plan; I reveal hints and lies here and there until you think you know what I’m up to.” He looked back, smiling at the man who leaned on one of the twisted oak supports of the four-poster bed, hands in his pockets. “Suffice to say, agent, we could dance with each other all night. Give me your answer now and perhaps we can figure out the footwork later.”

Julian gazed at Garak. “If I agree to find the diamond for you, you’ll let Bourgeoisie go free unharmed?”

“Of course.”

Julian gave Garak a long, hard look, then sniffed and glanced away. “Sorry, Eidolon. Charming as you are, and as honest as you look, I’d be out of my mind to trust you.”

Garak gave a familiar grin. “Aaah! There’s hope for you yet, agent.”

Julian smirked but worked to hide his expression behind his character’s stoicism. “Thanks for the offer. But I think I’d rather find the treasure myself.”

“You’re missing a golden opportunity here, agent.” Garak moved closer and thrust out an open hand. “Join me, and I’ll give you my half of the map. And perhaps, if you’re lucky, you’ll live past the end of the night.”

“How about—” Julian shucked a silver dagger from the back of his pants, holding it out to his side, “you give me your half of the map, and I let you live.”

Garak raised both hands in playful surrender. “So touchy! And to think, all I ever did to anger you was blow up your headquarters.”

Of course, Garak made that up, returning the favor of deepening their backstory.

Julian was unfazed, replying with venom in his voice, “And you destroyed all the evidence I needed to bring you down. You’re cold-blooded dynamite, Eidolon.”

“That I am.”

One deep breath – Garak moved like lightning, stealing the knife from Julian’s hand. Julian gasped, his body going rigid as Garak pressed the cool metal of the blade against the agent’s throat.

Julian’s eyes darkened, and he murmured, “You can threaten me all you want. But here’s what you don’t know: the first map piece was destroyed. It only exists in my mind. I know you won’t hurt me. I’m worth too much to you to lose.”

Garak twinkled with delight, knowing Julian had to be drawing that ‘knowledge’ from somewhere. It excited him to think it came from reality. “So you are,” Eidolon said. “But believe me... these are not empty threats.”

With a sweep of his arm, he shot the dagger toward the window, where it struck the core of a red apple. Both Garak and Julian stared at the fruit bowl atop the cabinet.

Garak went to retrieve the speared apple and held it tenderly in his fingertips as he began to cut a slice. “A good knife,” Garak mused, plucking out a pale segment of fruit. “You have exquisite taste in weapons. Such a shame that doesn’t extend to your choice of lovers.”

He offered the segment and the knife to Julian’s lips.

“I’m not hungry,” Julian said flatly, not breaking eye contact.

With a shrug, Garak tossed the apple slice into his own mouth. It was holographic food, worthless but for visual effect. Still, he chewed and swallowed, holding Julian’s eyes.

He turned the knife hilt to Julian, offering it back. Julian took it.

“You were calling me dynamite,” Garak reminded him. He dropped the apple, and it rolled under the bed.

Julian had been left disoriented by the distraction, but he drew a breath and recalibrated. He stepped closer, setting the blade to Garak’s suddenly-shivering throat. “Now,” Julian said, “I’ll be very clear. What I want you to do is provide me with your half of the map and the girl back unharmed. Under no circumstances will I align myself with your cause just to get it. Give me what you want, or it’s bye-bye Eidolon.”

Garak held Julian’s eyes. So intense. So bright with the fire of enjoyment. Julian was enthralled by the game, and by now Garak had relaxed into his role too – which left him vulnerable.

“Hardly a deal worth shaking on, agent,” Eidolon crooned. “I think the answer is a firm ‘no’.”

Julian attacked – the side of his hand hit Garak’s throat. Garak coughed, hand on his neck, but one swipe of his other hand bumped the knife from Julian’s grip. Weaponless but not defenceless, Julian jabbed with an elbow at Garak’s middle – but Garak was saved by his thick tunic; he hadn’t been joking when he said it was armour. Garak grunted in amusement.

As Julian wound back to throw a punch, Garak thrust the heel of a hand at Julian’s solar plexus but was blocked by a fast swipe. A leg tugged behind his knee—

Garak went down in two stumbles, but once grounded, he took Julian down with a swift swing-kick to his leg. Julian yelled as he collapsed, then groaned as he curled into a ball over his injured ankle.

With a bark of glee, Garak pounced on Julian and held him face-down to the floor, glad, not for the first time, that his dense weight was enough to pin a man down. A man as slight as Julian ought to be easy, but he did like to wriggle, and his elbows were sharp, and – oh yes! – he was genetically enhanced. He shucked Garak off like a Regalian turtle eager to lose its shell. Garak found himself winded on his back with an elbow at his throat. A beautiful brown face leered down at him. How exciting.

“You’re missing a golden opportunity here, Eidolon,” Agent Bashir rasped, his voice a little breathy from the fight. “Surrender the map and I promise I’ll spare you.”

“Charming you may be,” Eidolon purred, “and honest as you look...” He stretched out his neck, inviting the agent to choke him. If only he would. Want burned through Garak’s system, and he decided there and then: he wouldn’t squander any opportunity Julian gave to touch him. Garak loved to spar verbally, but to make their conflict physical was a lovely treat. “I’d be quite out of my mind to take you at your word.”

Agent Bashir smiled. He seemed to soften a little, recognising a stalemate. Obviously he wasn’t going to kill Garak, or even pretend to, because with him went the story. Instead he settled back just enough that Garak could overpower him, and with a hand gripped around Julian’s throat, Garak thumped the other man to the left foot of the bed, keeping him there by a chokehold.

A hot, deadly snarl curled into Julian’s ear: “I’m sure it occured to you already, agent—” Garak tugged the tasselled rope tie undone from the heavy curtain at that corner of the bed, “that I invited you here not to beg your assistance.” He swung the rope tie straight with one hand then yanked Julian’s hands behind him with the other, dragging both wrists around the thick wooden base of the bedpost. “I invited you here not merely for some treasure hunt, nor trinkets to ransom my enemies.” He pulled hard to keep Julian from trying to pull away, and with one whip of the rope, bound Julian’s hands in a coil – tight enough that he couldn’t slip free, not tight enough to become a tourniquet – then tied off the rope so it couldn’t come loose.

Garak moved to kneel over Julian’s stretched-out legs, one knee up, one down to the wooden floor.

“I brought you here...” Garak stroked Julian’s jawline with his fingertips, watching his eyelids flutter in his surprise. “Because it’s you I want.”

The moment Bourgeoisie had been escorted from the room, Julian had immediately given up hope of experiencing any excitement tonight. As disappointing as it may have been at the time, Garak soon brought enough intoxicating energy to the game that Julian hardly cared what else he was missing. He wanted this just as badly, if not more than sex with Bourgeoisie: the fury and the palpable tension between himself and an opponent.

Garak as Eidolon invited something to the experience that Falcon never had. Something electric. Sharing a room and a conversation with him was like standing in a lightning storm.

And then Garak went and trussed Julian up, completely unexpectedly, and suddenly, there was this heat in Julian, in the air, in Garak. Static through Julian’s belly. Throbbing between his thighs. Julian’s heart pounded, and not just from the fight. The physical contact, yes. The way Garak was looking at him now – hungry – God yes. The way he spoke...?

What did he mean?

It’s you I want.

Julian searched Garak’s eyes, his breath going short and shuddery for a moment. “Wh—? What do I have that you want?”

Garak gave a small smile. “What don’t you have, is a better question.”

Julian intensified his glare. “Explain.”

Garak pondered for a few moments, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. His fingertips teased a lock of Julian’s hair back into place. “I was... raised on stories, agent. ‘The Eidolon’ was a favourite tale of mine. A mythical creature of darkness and light, luring in lesser beings with its unquestionable perfection. A being made to be worshipped.”

He stroked Julian’s jaw again, letting knuckles graze his larynx, and no doubt feeling it bob as Julian gulped. Julian was terrified. He was thrilled by his terror. Oh, how good it was to be made to quiver. Julian tightened his thighs together, trying to keep down a little rush of what he realised was arousal.

“I use its namesake quite ironically, you see." Eidolon went on, his focus on Julian absolute, blue eyes atwinkle. "It may surprise you – but I am an imperfect, unfinished man. I know this. I also know when I see an equal. You, dear Julian, are... my mirror. My highest ideal. Don't you see? You cannot be perfect. Nobody worth knowing ever is. You can be made vulnerable. Made to give into me. And only I have the power to topple your pedestal once and for all. And then... I win.”

Julian’s forceful gaze hopped between Garak’s eyes, desperately trying to determine how much of this was the game and how much was real. Garak played it more smoothly, but maybe he, too, was wondering the same.

“You are bound,” Garak said plainly, “and entirely at my mercy. What will it be, agent? Would you give me all that I crave?”

Julian obviously didn’t understand. He didn’t realise how badly he was longed for. His lips were parted, his doe-eyes wider than Agent Bashir’s ought to be. This was Julian’s naivete showing through his mask.

“Y... You want...?”

“The... map,” Garak said in defeat, unwilling to reveal too much of his personal truth. “Surrender, agent. Describe to me the map in your mind and perhaps we’ll call it even.”

“...Oh.”

Was Garak imagining it or did Julian look a little disappointed? Slumped shoulders, flat, expressionless mouth... Surely not? Did he want Garak to want him?

Perhaps Garak had the chance to press further...

“Tell me,” Garak said again, taking the dropped knife and setting it gently to Julian’s throat, making him tip up his chin, “and I’ll let you and your friend go.”

“So generous of you,” Julian said bitterly. “And to think, all it would cost is my integrity.”

Garak barked a laugh. “Integrity! This, from a man tied to a bedpost with his enemy all but squatted in his lap.”

Julian hummed, a sparkle in his eye. “Now you mention it—!”

A fast knee thumped up into Garak’s crotch, and Garak hissed in displeasure, re-pressing the knife edge onto Julian’s skin. Julian straightened, lips parting, realising his attack didn’t have the intended effect.

“How sad for you,” Garak oozed. “You see, agent, I, unlike you, am not vulnerable in the ways that you are.”

Julian studied him. Left eye. Right eye. Waiting for something. “Oh?” he pried. His eyes dipped to Garak’s lips, then back up. “I dare you to prove that’s true.”

Could Garak dare?

Julian sucked his lower lip, scared but eager.

So Garak dared.

He slipped his hand between Julian’s uppermost thighs and made him gasp, then gasp again as Garak gripped his genitals through the crotch of his pants. Julian’s expression flickered between shock and desperation, but he certainly didn’t look upset, which was something. His legs parted a little more.

“Does that hurt?” Garak asked, squeezing just enough that Julian whimpered, hips surging forward into the touch. “Men are such tender creatures, aren’t they?”

He let Julian go and left him to recover, panting, eyes up to the ceiling, lips licked wet, uncertainty all over his pretty face.

“Ih... I—”

Julian couldn’t put together a sentence. They’d gone so far off the script that Garak suspected he had no clue what to do next and was just as lost as if it were real life. Garak even wondered if the holosuite computer had halted any and all background processes until they returned to what they were supposed to be doing. This certainly wasn’t it.

“Agent.” Garak touched Julian’s cheek with the flat of the blade, making sure their eyes met. “I’ll release you. Just tell me about the map.”

He saw Julian think about it. In metaphor, they both knew this was Garak asking if Julian wanted to be released. They could go back to the script, back to the game as it was meant to be played. Back to toying with each other on level ground. No more Garak on Julian’s lap, no more tiptoeing through this unknown territory.

But Julian licked his plumping lips and murmured, his voice guttural now, “I’m not giving you anything.”

So Garak pressed in further, gripping a fistful of Julian’s hair. “I can hurt you.” He heaved a burning breath against Julian’s cheek. The pit of Garak’s belly fluttered at the intimacy of converging body heat. “Agent, I will get that information out of you one way or another. Make it easy for yourself and speak.”

“Go to hell, Eidolon.”

Garak chuckled, feeling a complete flush of arousal descend through him. Julian wanted this. He wanted to lose himself in the uncharted mystery of improvised touch.

“Ffffiesty little beassst,” Garak hissed into his ear.

“Ohhh, you wouldn’t have me any other way,” Julian teased, a smile in his voice.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Garak inched back enough that they could look at each other. Julian’s pupils were dilated. One glance down let Garak confirm he wasn’t the only one excited by their proximity. There was now a slight rise in the crotch of Julian’s pants. “But at least now I have you.”

They gazed at each other for a moment: one scary moment where it all seemed so real, so genuine. But it was all a game, wasn’t it? Julian wanted to play so badly that he was letting things unfold however they would; he was letting Garak take advantage of him for the sake of entertainment. But Garak knew it could be more: this could be his one chance to have what he wanted. And in their mutual yearning for friendly company, Julian might let him.

Garak lay the knife on the fur rug and took his empty hand back to Julian’s throat. With tantalising slowness, he unfurled Julian’s bow tie, and left its two ends dangling open.

He tested; he ran his fingertips across Julian’s Adam’s apple, feeling its hardness and the fragility of his windpipe under his skin. Julian kept staring, expressionless but for the darkness in his eyes.

As he heard and saw no resistance, Garak pressed his hand to Julian’s neck and held tight, squeezing. Julian didn’t even blink; he held Garak’s eyes as he loomed closer, as their noses came within a inch of each other. Garak felt only the thinnest wisp of breath on his lips.

He held on for seven... eight... nine seconds, then released. Julian exhaled in a gust, looking at Garak with a more vulnerable set to his eyes.

“Will you tell me now?” Garak asked. “I warn you: I will continue to ask until you do.”

Julian gritted his jaw and stared Garak down. “I won’t talk, Eidolon.”

“Hmm.” Garak gave Julian a proud look. “How well might you hold up under torture, I wonder? Silent, bearing with it all? Or will you scream and beg me for mercy?”

A flicker of apprehension crossed Julian’s eyes, and Garak liked it. A little fear was a spectacular look on Julian.

“I’m not giving you what you want,” Julian said, bare strength in his defiance.

Ah, but if only you knew how much you’re already giving me, Garak thought. ...Or perhaps you do know.

“Such a shame,” Garak told his prisoner gently, taking up the knife and dragging the tip through Julian’s barely-there stubble. “To make me ruin something so pretty.”

Julian’s lips parted and a tiny breath escaped. He blinked slowly, perhaps enjoying the threatening praise. Perhaps excited by what was to come. Perhaps afraid. Perhaps all of the above.

“Then again,” Garak turned his head, and the knife, letting the point slip down Julian’s soft gullet and tracing the movement of his gulp. “Wouldn’t it be a worse shame if I never found out what happens to you when you’re... undone.”

He cut off the top button of Julian’s white shirt; Julian startled. The button hit a far wall of the castle’s bedroom and pattered into silence.

“You will have any number of chances, Agent Bashir. Chances to speak and be done with this.”

Eye contact. Julian’s stubborn stare.

“No?” Garak smiled. Another button flicked away.

“Shame,” Julian said. “To ruin something so pretty. This was a good shirt.”

A compliment. A nice one.

Garak smiled. “I’m sure whoever made it for you will be more than happy to replace it.”

A promise. One that made Julian smile back before he stifled his response.

Another button lost.

Julian took a shaky breath, lips widening, eyes lowered as his hips pushed into nothing, buttocks sliding an inch on the wooden floor. Oh, he liked this. It was obvious to Garak he liked this. He wanted another touch. But perhaps the lack of contact could pass for torture, just as much as the violation could. Julian was two men at once and each wanted something else.

Eidolon and Garak, however, wanted only one thing. The last button disappeared under the four-poster bed, and grey Cardassian hands spread the shirt open, exposing the gorgeous light-brown plane of Julian’s chest and belly. His black pants were high-waisted and covered his navel, but two fingers and two thumbs exposed his pubic hair in moments. It was thick, dark, and separated into defined curls right at the band of his underwear. Garak longed to sink his fingers into it. But he resisted; it was too soon for that.

Julian shivered a little, hips squirming in place. He was trying not to hump Garak’s hands, afraid to give away his desire. As if his rising erection hadn’t already done that.

“I can do... whatever I like to you,” Garak said carefully. “And you can fight me. Or you can tell me what I want to know.”

Julian actually snarled. “Why do you bother asking? You’re not getting—”

Garak slammed his hand to Julian’s throat and choked him again, holding tight, squeezing. He growled into his face, teeth showing as he said, “I won’t take that kind of insolence from you, agent. Can you be courteous? Speak to me as your equal. Come down from your pedestal, little sunbird, and squirm with the rest of the worms.”

He released Julian in a flash, and Julian scraped for air, head bobbing as he caught his breath. There was fury in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. “You won’t break me.”

“Oh, but let me try,” Garak purred, gripping Julian’s entire jaw in his hand, leaving pale marks and making him pout. “I would so love to try.”

Julian snapped teeth at Garak’s hand, and Garak retaliated with another grip on his neck. This time he made Julian’s head fall back completely, crown to the bedpost and mouth agape as he tried to take in air he couldn’t access. Garak monitored the racing pulse in Julian’s neck by sight, watching his vein throb. Julian remained tense, but then blinked twice, and Garak recognised it as a panic signal and let go.

Julian gasped for breath now, but he still looked at Garak with desire. He waited until he had calmed down a little, then whispered, “Fuck you.”

Fuck me.

Garak took his throat and bit his exposed shoulder as he strangled him, heart pounding at the mindless delight this provided. Julian’s thighs squirmed under Garak’s open legs, eyes wide and focus intense as Garak eased his torso back to see him. So swallowed by lust, there was barely a coloured ring left around Julian’s pupils. Still pressing Julian’s throat, Garak let his free hand move low, and he cupped Julian’s firm erection in his palm, feeling heat through his underwear.

Julian cocked his head, hoping to extricate his neck from such a tight grip, so Garak let go and allowed him to breathe. But with the exhale came a loud moan of pleasure, immediately curtailed by Julian’s urge to stay in character. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this.

Garak still stroked Julian’s erection, giving what he hoped passed for a domineering smirk.

Julian shivered all over and watched Garak’s hand move. Watched him find his cockhead through the fabric. Watched him tease it. Julian started to squirm violently in place, frowning, grunting and trying to kick Garak away. “Get off me,” he snapped.

Garak backed off, hands up, afraid he’d gone too far.

But Julian hesitated, eyes softening. “I— I won’t tell you... about the... map?”

So many years speaking only in metaphor and now that it really mattered, Garak couldn’t tell truth from lie. This was a curse of his own making: he’d taught Julian how a lie could be both true and not true, and now he was a master at walking the line. Garak wasn’t completely certain what the other man wanted, and the situation was too delicate to allow him to guess. One wrong move and he might lose his closest friend.

Julian sat up straighter, emboldened. “Do whatever you like to me, Eidolon,” he snarled. “H-Hurt me...” Julian’s voice went shaky and small. “Make me beg...” He looked like he was about to melt with want. “But I won’t give you anything... willingly. You’ll have to – t’hh – take it. Take it from me. While I resist.”

Garak touched Julian’s throat to check, and Julian let him, lifting his chin to give him access. Eyes closed, waiting for pressure.

Instead Garak leaned forward and kissed Julian’s cheek.

Julian sucked in a tiny breath.

Eyes met; Garak refused to look shy, acting furious instead. “You bait me so easily, but you, you dainty little wretch, you have no idea what I’m capable of. This is your last chance, agent. Your very last chance. Tell me, if you please, about the map – or I will take this a step further. And I assure you, I can be a very... demanding man.”

Agent Bashir’s eyes lowered, and he bit his lip, fighting to control his smirk. When he looked up, he looked up in hatred.

He really wasn’t going to give in, was he? He wouldn’t break character even if...? Even if the lover who took him to bed wasn’t his type at all, at least in terms of appearance. But in every other aspect, Garak was a Bashir girl. The only one the dear doctor need concern himself with. The only one who mattered.

Eidolon, however, was very much an enemy to all, and Garak was glad he differed from his character at least in one respect. The last thing he wanted was to actually violate Julian. Oh, it was blissful to toy with him as he’d done since the day they met, but unless the doctor really wanted to be touched, Garak could not bring himself to even pretend.

But, it seemed... he did want it.

Julian offered no fight as Garak tentatively held his crotch again. His erection twitched inside his Starfleet-issue underwear, and his breath shuddered out hot, a whimper alongside. He wanted.

“So be it,” Eidolon said.

Garak unbound Julian’s wrists for him, and wrenched him to his feet by his tuxedo jacket. Julian made an attempt to free himself from Garak’s clutches so Garak fought back, holding Julian’s arms with all his strength, tearing the clothes from his torso and tossing them to the floor, then kneeing him in the small of his back to make him fall face-down to the foot of the bed.

Julian roared into the mattress, wrenching about on the luxurious covers, pretending to resist, but he allowed Garak to believe he was the stronger man. To be fair, they were an even-enough match. Each wrench of muscle and knock of force sent another sparkling surge of pleasure up through Julian’s body. To his excitement, it took almost a minute – a furious, violent minute of grunts and full-body struggling – but Garak manhandled Julian to the middle of the bed and pinned him there.

Kneeling on Julian’s thighs to keep him from moving, Garak yanked both his hands up, bare arms outstretched. Julian let it happen, relieved that facing away from Garak meant he could hide how desperately he was aroused. The force of the touches and the pain they caused was maddening. Garak’s weight on Julian’s thighs was enough to bring tears to his eyes. And Julian’s erection throbbed now. He leaked hot spurts of pre-come into his underwear, his entire body eager to push and rock into anything, be it the mattress, or a hand. Or Garak.

The headboard of the bed was made of carved wooden poles, and Garak made quick work of binding Julian to one of them. The rope from the curtain ties was sleek and shiny, but two good yanks and Julian’s wrists were secure. Julian looked up at the binding and felt a dizzying wave of anticipation. Garak tied him up! Tied him up to have sex with him! Dear God!

The moment Garak got off him, Julian got back to kicking and rolling about, panting, trying to tear himself from the bed, but it was solid wood and didn’t so much as creak. With one frantic look back to his left, Julian saw Garak standing by the bed, admiring his work with a small smile. Julian pressed his hips to the bed, worried that in the golden light from the windows, Garak might see the obvious shape of Julian’s arousal.

Julian’s trousers were halfway down his thighs by now, and Garak gently relieved him of their burden, taking underwear, shoes and socks with him. He sustained two kicks in the meantime, but one good, firm grip on both ankles stilled them.

Blindingly arush with some visceral, dark pleasure at being forcefully restrained, Julian keened, out of breath, head buried between his outstretched biceps.

Garak really wanted him. He wanted to do things to him. Even though it was for the game, the fact remained: this was actually happening. Julian’s entire soul had butterflies. Swoops of excitement stole through his belly, and it took all his willpower not to simply open his legs and beg to be fucked here and now. Instead he tightened his legs together, savouring the pretense. If Garak wanted to fuck him, he’d have to fight him for the pleasure of doing so.

From here, Garak could admire Julian’s beautiful, plump buttocks. His body was stretched from one end of the bed to the other, shoulder blades shifting, thigh muscles twitching as he squeezed them tight. Julian breathed loudly, tiny vocalisations on each blast of air.

“You’re mine now,” Eidolon said, letting go of the agent’s feet and stroking up through his leg hair. “Any resistance... will be met with further suffering on your part. I suggest you surrender – either your information, or your body.”

Julian hummed into the pillow and tensed his buttocks, toes curling. He panted and whimpered and twisted his hands around and around the rope binding, holding on. “You’ll get—” panting, “nothing from me.”

“Body it is.”

Garak began to undress himself, watching Julian the whole time.

How marvellous. What need was there for a map, when the treasure was here, ripe for the taking?

How worrying it was, however, that Julian only seemed willing to be plundered under the guise of... well, rape. Had Garak led him into a trap that made it seem like this was the only way they could enjoy each other? Through the lens of fiction? Or was Julian just so deeply invested in his holosuite game and the persona he strived to perform in reality, that it made sense to Julian to break his pattern of predictable lovers only because he was forced to?

And what did it say about Garak that he was enticed by the same scenario?

Nothing, he decided. It wasn’t cruel to enjoy this. If Julian was saying yes then Garak didn’t want to say no. He wanted to love his dear friend in whatever way he was allowed to love him.

But why-oh-why couldn’t this be real?

Garak didn’t have the luxury of prying for an answer. This would have to be real enough.

He knelt, naked and barefoot, on the end of the bed, and crawled up to his prey, touching his rump. Julian was warm and pliant, then hot and furious as he wrenched away, but Garak grabbed him by the waist and dragged him back to the centre of the bed, bowing to kiss his shoulders.

“How beautiful you are, agent.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Agent Bashir replied. “Save for maybe the claws you’ve dug into my hips.”

“A mere precaution,” Eidolon said, laying himself carefully over Julian’s body, easing his hips to the mounds of Julian’s buttocks and pressing there. “I wouldn’t want a spirited thing like you to wriggle away from me, now, would I?”

Garak’s sex had long ago emerged from its internal sheath, but was no longer glossy at the tip; his pre-seminal fluid had been sapped by the clothes he’d worn, having kept himself covered for so long. As eager for aggression Julian seemed, Garak doubted he’d enjoy being fucked dry. Garak looked around but saw no helpful containers of liquid. Perhaps Julian didn’t ever need such assistance when bedding holographic women.

Garak sighed and thumped his head to Julian’s back, ignoring desperate grunts. “Computer,” he said, tone withdrawn. “Replicated personal lubricant.”

With a bleep-bloop and then a spiralling rush of glowing electrons, a bottle of lilac fluid beamed onto the bed by Garak’s side. “Forgive me, my dear,” Garak murmured under his breath. “It was necessary.”

Julian lurched away with a snarl, trying to kick Garak again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eidolon. Either get it over with, or get out and leave me alone.”

Garak hummed, hoping that meant he was forgiven for breaking character. However, he felt a faint discomfort, which grew once he recognised it as sadness; Julian wasn’t going to acknowledge him as anything other than ‘Eidolon’, leaving Garak alone with the reality of what they were about to do together.

Even so, this was hardly a good time to argue about it, lest Garak slam shut a welcome window of opportunity. He pooled lubricant onto his fingers, holding Julian down by sitting squarely on his thighs.

Between preparatory breaths, Garak reminded himself that the specifics of this situation were mere fantasy. He was not really about to rape Julian. Yet, it hurt – it hurt that it was a game at all, but a cruel one at that. So then Garak reminded himself it was real; they both wanted this intimacy.

But why didn’t that help?

All his turmoil was set aside when Julian squirmed expectantly, eagerly waiting to be assaulted. It really wouldn’t do to let him down. So, while Julian clenched his buttocks tight, Garak bit his lip and carefully snuck one finger, then two, between the seam.

Julian groaned weakly, opening up and relaxing in his urgency for more. He allowed Garak a few seconds to slick his hole wet. Each touch was met with shaky, excitable breaths, humping the bed gently as Garak massaged him open.

Then Julian got back to fighting, and Garak marvelled at how much energy he had.

“Calm yourself, agent, lest you wear yourself out before we’ve even begun.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not begin,” Julian snapped.

Garak couldn’t bring himself to smile. He knew it made sense for Julian to say that. It was a game. It was roleplay. Julian wanted to feel like Garak was touching him without consent. But it hurt to hear. It ripped right down to a tender, sad little place inside Garak, a knife through the apple core, and ached there, weighted and poisonous.

Garak pushed past his discomfort, swallowing. He settled until he was stable over Julian. Then, he took one of the doctor’s thighs and pried it away from the other with enough force to leave pale marks in otherwise dark skin. Julian grunted and growled like a caged animal, back arching up, head down, trying to writhe away.

His hole was all ready to be used, wet and visible and close enough that Garak could sink in anytime he liked.

But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. Not like this.

He set his cheek on Julian’s back and stared at the closed bedroom door, trying to hold back tears.

Not yet sensing the change in Garak’s energy, Julian kept resisting for a few more seconds – but then he hesitated, went still, and lay flat under Garak, releasing a slow exhale.

A number of silent moments passed. Julian caught his breath, and Garak controlled his emotions, but still neither of them moved or spoke.

Hesitantly, Garak stroked Julian’s hip, and put a little kiss on his back. That was what he wanted. Soft and... loving. What a disappointment he was, to all of Cardassian kind, and more so, to Julian. Worst of all, to himself. He couldn’t even pretend? What kind of a liar was he?

Julian took a small breath.

Then he said, quietly, “The rope’s coming undone.”

Garak sighed out all his breath. “What a tragedy.” He levered his torso up on an elbow, resigning himself to one of two things: Julian would want to stop, or he would want to continue with the roleplay. Either way, Garak would be left unhappy.

But his hand reached the rope tie, and found it looking perfectly secure. Julian’s hands were just as well-bound as before.

Only, at Garak’s first testing touch to the rope, Julian opened out his fingers and took Garak’s hand. Fingers interlocked. Thumb stroking him.

Assuring. Gentle.

Loving.

“...Agent...?” Garak asked. Or are you Julian?

Julian shrugged. “You know, I’ve always... liked you... Eidolon.”

Garak was confused. “Have you, now.”

“I...” Julian gulped. “Maybe I don’t really want to fight you. At least not tonight.” He tipped his head just enough to kiss Garak’s inner arm. “But if anyone else asks... If Bourgeoisie asks...?” He shivered, and spread his legs wide, knees digging into the mattress a bit to raise his rump. “I didn’t do this willingly.”

Garak stared at the back of Julian’s head. “Agent Bashir, what are you saying?”

“I want you.” Julian’s voice trembled. “I want you to f—” He gulped. “Fuck me. Touch me. All over.”

Even with that said, Garak suspected Julian had changed tracks just so Garak felt more comfortable. Kind as the gesture was, this was still a game, still a fantasy – and maybe Julian didn’t realise that was the real problem. Garak was a man who worked solely upon endless pretense, but for once in his life he wanted to do away with it. This was too important to him. Julian was too important to him.

“Is it Eidolon you truly want?” Garak asked gently. “Or... someone else?”

Julian tried to look back but couldn’t go past his shoulder. “You.” He took a steady breath, then whispered, “You, Garak.”

“Oh...” Delight flashed bright through Garak. He pressed forward, embracing Julian and kissing his shoulder. The fingers of Garak’s left hand tangled through Julian’s, holding on, as the other hand stroked down the warmth of his side. “Oh, my dear doctor, you don’t know how relieved that makes me.”

Julian chuckled softly, squeezing Garak’s hand. “Do you, um... want to...? Now?”

“Yes.”

Still reeling from the revelation that he was wanted, wanted by the same incredible man he loved so deeply, Garak kissed the back of Julian’s neck. Nuzzled him. Hugged him. Kissed him again – but when Julian let out a little groan of urgency and pushed his buttocks up to touch Garak’s body, Garak shuffled into complete contact with him. The plumpness of Garak’s front was so perfectly held by the curve of Julian’s spine.

Garak relaxed, all abuzz with anticipation. After a deep breath in and out, he encouraged, “Relax for me.”

Julian relaxed, giving a small, rough groan as Garak slowly eased himself inside.

“A’auh,” Garak sighed, halfway into a world of heat and intimacy. His breath caught, but he panted twice and then slid the rest of the way in, tingling as Julian moaned. The sweat of Julian’s palms felt warm where he clutched Garak’s hand completely.

“Hmm.” Garak got himself situated properly. His thighs aligned with the backs of Julian’s, one hand sliding under the thinner man’s chest to hold him steady – and then they began to rock. Ever so gently. Ever so slowly.

Julian cooed in contentment, resting his closed eyes on Garak’s arm.

“Comfortable?” Garak asked.

Julian nodded. “Feels... strange. Good strange. Really good strange.” He gasped and started to squirm in place, surging, then lay himself flat so he could hump into the mattress whenever Garak pushed him down.

Garak gulped, and the following hot exhale flooded out across Julian’s back. “Perhaps,” Garak said, applying kisses wherever he could reach, “you’d like to return to our character roles?”

“Mm. Depends,” Julian said amicably. “Seemed like it was getting uncomfortable for you.”

“Knowing you – ah – know’hhh... Hmmm.” Garak smiled, amused by his own lack of composure. Julian’s body was tight and hot, and he moved so naturally with each gentle thrust that it was hard to think of anything else. “Knowing that you’re enjoying – hm – more than the mere concept of – h’hah – being seduced and violated by your enemy, that’s quite enough for me.”

“Well, I do like it,” Julian admitted, before buckling into a coil of pleasure and shivering thrice. He stretched out again, mouth open to breathe heavily. “But only because it’s you, Garak.” His voice became softer, quieter. “Because it’s you.”

Garak was doubly reassured. He nodded, resting his forehead on Julian’s back. He took a few slow breaths and gave Julian’s hand a squeeze.

“Tell me, agent,” Eidolon said, grinning when he felt Julian chuckle under him. “Tell me how it feels to join with me. After so long resisting my invitations and squaring off with me at every opportunity, here you are at my behest, in a bed – bound and unbound in one. Are you free, now, to want what you’ve craved for so long?”

Agent Bashir panted, pushing desperately into the bed. “Just don’t tell anyone what I’ve done, Eidolon.”

“Oh-ho! Begging me for secrecy. Shame, is it? Embarrassment, perhaps. An agent with such promise! Taken down by some helpless affiliation for your archenemy. Lust, of all things.”

“Who said anything about lust?” Agent Bashir grinned, speeding up his movements and rocking harder in the bed. One, two, three-four. One-two-threefour.

Garak raised his eyebrows. “Love?”

“Worse,” Bashir panted, jiggling his rear now to make Garak fuck him faster than he could manage alone. “Ah— Ah. Ah. Oh, God. Yes.”

“Worse,” Garak repeated, struggling to keep his brain in gear when all it wanted to do was shut down so he could pay attention to how Julian was such a little firecracker, moving in snaps yet remaining fluid somehow. And oh, the way he gleamed with sweat and breathed in huffs, no doubt smiling with his eyes closed in constant relief. Garak asked him, “What is worse than love?”

“For you?” Julian laughed. “Well!”

Julian knocked Garak off him with a backward kick and a hard shoulder-thrust. Garak barely had a moment to realise he’d been thrown onto his side before he very suddenly found himself on his back, not winded since the bed was soft, but very much physically stunned and very much mentally surprised. Julian sat back down on him and filled himself up, facing Garak now, still bound by his hands to the bed, again moving to slide Garak deep inside him, providing them both with glorious sensations.

The glee in Julian’s eyes was a dastardly, playful kind, and he bit his lower lip, so pretty and red, then leaned down to kiss Garak sweetly on the lips.

Oh, marvellous. He was every bit as tender as Garak had imagined. Garak held that tiny waist and kissed back, deeply, while trying not to seem too eager. They both let out a breathy purr of wonder, heads turning, exhales gushing out across their cheeks.

Julian lifted his head, midnight eyes giving Garak an incredibly sly look once paired with a smirk.

“Look at you,” Julian teased by word as his body teased by movement. “In bed with your enemy. It’s my word against yours; who’s to say who really won here? I know for a fact you don’t take too many... partners.” Julian tilted his head, gazing down at Garak with a look in his eye that said he was mentally running a knife point across his lips. “Whereas I can have anyone I want. Seducing my enemies is part of the game I play, dear Eidolon. A very—” a slow twist of his hips, pushing deep, “big—” a circling of his body, a stir of Garak’s overwhelmed senses, “part.”

“Ghuuaaahh,” Garak moaned, making Julian laugh brightly.

“Come to think of it,” Agent Bashir said, “who’s to say anything happened here at all? We leave here roughed-up and rumpled, and people say we fought, that’s all.”

“You’re the one,” Garak rasped out, dizzy and half-blind, “who doesn’t want your heiress companion to know what... or who you really like. Your true tastes, agent, do not include the likes of her.”

“My true tastes,” Julian replied, eyes rolling, “can include both.”

“Hmm.” Garak frowned, singed by jealousy.

Julian caught the flicker of discomfort, and asked Garak, “What is worse than love?”

Garak searched his eyes, not knowing the answer. Love did seem like a terrible weakness; he knew it first hand.

“Is it honesty? Or trust?”

Garak realised Julian was genuinely asking, but had apparently found his answer already.

“Because it seems to me,” Julian went on as he moved agonisingly slow, legs open over Garak’s hips, fluffy armpits beside Garak’s ears, nose touching his as they started to kiss.

“That,” Julian whispered, breath brushing Garak’s lips.

Kiss.

Kiss.

A sigh of pleasure.

“You do trust me,” Julian said, “even if you may never say it. And you do so hate to lie.” Julian looked at Garak carefully. Their characters were shed for a few moments, even without a word. “And I trust you. In so many ways, I don’t, and I doubt I ever will, but... this?” He shut his eyes and kissed the inverted teardrop on Garak’s forehead, then the edge of his temple. “Like this, I do.”

Then the masks were on again.

“For the sake of honesty, let’s say you tell everyone you know,” Agent Bashir said. “You, the – mmm – great Eidolon, the mythic ideal of perfection, you’ve been – hh’h, h’hh – won over by a less perfect man. A man embroiled in the shame of his own being. Can’t – aauh... cahhh – can’t admit who he really is, even to himself. Afraid that one day he might wake up and – hh – realise he’s no better than his enemy.”

The masks were pretty transparent, to be fair.

“Or perhaps you’d prefer to lie and say nothing,” Julian offered. “After all, to lie and keep secrets is what you do best. It’s what I do best.”

They shared a soft kiss; both Garak’s hands held Julian’s cheeks as they twisted together, hips moved to push and push and push, wet and searing hot wherever they met.

“This can be our little secret,” Julian whispered onto Garak’s lips. “Only you and I will ever know how real it is.”

They held hands, twisting through the rope. Their eyes stayed locked, until a time when Julian shut his eyes and went in for more kisses. Thick, rolling kisses punctuated by moans and irregular jolts as Julian’s rhythm started to break down.

Lost in a gorgeous world of secrets, stories, and lies, Julian started to climax, hips surging, arching with his shoulders back and his middle forward to press against Garak’s. A gasp sucked into his mouth and then puffed out with a cry of pleasure. Garak held him, kissing him as he came. Julian soon finished, shaking, and moaned the same tender sound over and over between each push.

He needed a while to recover, too dazed by it all, so Garak took him tight in his arms and rolled them both over, being careful not to twist Julian’s arms as Julian came to rest on his back. Garak checked the binding; Julian’s crossed wrists showed some marks from the rope, but his skin was not chafed and he wasn’t bound so tightly that his hands might lose circulation.

Garak stoked Julian’s hands gently, then he returned to an easygoing nudging of his hips, simple to do now Julian was fully relaxed. His eyes were hooded with exhaustion, and he wore such a darling smile, slowly biting his lip as he watched Garak thrust over him, never breaking eye contact.

“Do you love this?” Julian whispered.

Garak nodded. Oh, yes, he did.

“D— Do you love me?”

Garak stared, aflush with fear.

He nodded anyway.

Grinning, Julian nosed up, wanting a kiss.

Garak obliged, moaning into the contact. He squeezed Julian’s waist, pushing harder now, getting a little rough.

Julian certainly didn’t mind the roughness – he broke the kiss to yelp in joy, laughing with his head back into the pillow, then gasping roughly and crying out, “Ah! Ah! Y’yyes! Yes! Garak! Garak – oh my God, yes. Yes.”

Garak, surprised by the total break in character, took firmer hold of Julian and fucked him as powerfully as he could, slamming hard but not fast, pushing with enough force that the bed actually began to thump the clay wall. Five brutal pushes and the wall began to crack, which made Garak bark out a laugh, which made Julian moan and sob and open his legs wider, knees rising towards his shoulders. Garak hugged all of him into a bundle of limbs and heat, letting him scream in his pleasure, hands still held tight by the rope.

“Choke me,” Julian wailed. “Garak— Choke me.”

Garak looked at him. Julian was shiny-eyed, begging with just a look.

So Garak slid one hand then the other to Julian’s throat, all of him ablaze with astonishment and gratification even before he pressed down. And then, he started to squeeze. Not tight enough to keep Julian from breathing or actually injure him, but enough that he surely felt it and could tell it was dangerous.

Julian kept moving his hips under Garak, not letting him pause for a second. An unsteady grunt came out of Garak – he was moments from climax but couldn’t focus on Julian’s neck and his open legs at the same time, but he had to. Julian gave him no choice.

Julian stretched out his neck and breathed in so faintly, willing Garak to squeeze tighter.

Garak did.

He watched Julian carefully – blushing face; shiny, plump lips; each flutter of his lashes – awaiting a signal that said he wanted to stop. But none came, and Garak was losing his ability to focus. His eyes closed as he shot past bliss and into ecstasy, crying out with every wisp of power left in him, noise blaring against Julian’s chest. Orgasmic pulses kept on coming, striking him from the inside out and outside in.

He tried to ease up on Julian’s neck but found, entirely to his surprise, a familiar hand holding him there and keeping him from pulling away.

Many breaths rushed in and out of Garak, hot and much-needed, and he let the swirling in his head fade before he opened his eyes.

Julian smiled at him, holding both of Garak’s hands.

Garak let go of his neck at last, and the amount of air that Julian drew in all at once was enough to clear a forest of its leaves, no doubt.

For a while Julian blinked with his eyes rolling back in his head each time, but he always returned to gaze at Garak as he took a dozen deep, measured breaths.

Eventually Julian slipped his freed hands into Garak’s hair, scrunched it, then brought him down to kiss.

“How long have you been free?” Garak asked, between two wet-lipped smooches.

Julian just grinned. “Starfleet,” he panted, “has a – course in – knot untying.”

“Does it really?”

“Hm, wouldn't you – like to know. Maybe you’re just – hhh – not that good at – hh – knots.”

Garak shook his head fondly, then shut his eyes and kissed Julian’s blushing cheek.

Julian turned his head, and he and Garak gazed at each other from inches away, each of their cheeks resting on the pillow as they recovered.

They lay in silence for over a minute, breathing, shaking, slowly going still. Their skin gleamed with sweat; Garak felt sticky. Julian kept his legs open despite Garak having vacated the space between.

Soon Julian’s fingers stretched to stroke Garak’s chest while their unwavering gaze held fast.

“We’ll keep this a secret?” Julian whispered.

Garak squinted, fingertip tracing his lover’s lips. “You tell your friends everything, dear doctor. If you and I were to make love regularly, how would you keep it from them?”

“I’ve lied to them before. For years.”

Garak’s smile was hesitant. “Is that really what you want? You and I both enjoy our covert operations, doctor, this is a mere fact – but surely we’d both be better off being open about—”

Julian nosed in for a kiss, warm and slow and mushy.

He was smiling when he pulled back. “Told you.”

“Told me?”

“That you’re in a far worse situation than mere lust or love. You’re in honesty with me.”

Garak scowled. How dare he figure that out.

“And to think,” Garak complained, “I thought I was the one torturing you for information.”

“More than one way to get the truth out of someone.” Julian kissed him again. “Or the trust.”

Garak rolled his eyes and flopped to lie on his back, staring at the drapes over the bed. The hologram sun had gone down, but a summery lilac haze still lingered about the room. Faintly, now he was listening, Garak could hear the distant sound of ballroom music.

“So—?” Julian glanced at Garak. “You want to do this again, do you?”

Garak realised he’d let that slip without prompting, and wondered what in greatest Cardassia Julian had done to him.

Julian just laughed. “Oh, your face.” He rolled to squish Garak’s chin between his fingers and plopped a kiss onto his pouting lips. “How’s next week sound?”

“Isn’t Mr. O’Brien slated to reprise his role of Falcon?”

“Hmm. I think I can find some way to – squeeze Eidolon in. Don’t worry.” Julian smirked.

Garak chuckled. “I shall look forward to it, doctor.”

Julian took in a deep and happy breath and got comfortable on the bed, glancing down once to see how much mess was left on his skin. Most of it, he discovered.

“Computer, one hot, wet towel, please.”

One appeared. He cleaned himself up first, then folded the towel and made a rather erotic performance of cleaning Garak up too, all bedroom eyes and soft catlike movements. The towel was a bit tickly when poked into his genital sheath, but after some wincing and grimacing and the spreading of Garak’s legs, Julian had him cleaned up, and looked mighty pleased about the intimacy of having done it, too.

Garak took the opportunity to stroke through Julian’s soft and curly pubic hair, and was gratified when Julian bit his lip and giggled. He went all shiny-eyed, apparently mesmerised by Garak satisfying his urge to pet him.

Then Julian snuggled right up to Garak, arms around his waist, cheek on his shoulder.

Garak stared at him in enthused amazement. “You’re not eager to get on with the rest of the game?”

Julian just grinned back. “Our little secret,” he teased.

Garak beamed and gave him a kiss, one he particularly enjoyed. No pretense whatsoever. It was a gesture of pure adoration, and that was that.

“Miiiiles!” Keiko called towards the back room. “Julian’s here.”

She grinned at Julian and welcomed him with sweeping hands. He followed her gestures into the O’Brien family’s quarters. “Honestly,” Keiko chided, “we haven’t been back ten minutes, and you’re already here. Well, if it’s any consolation, I think Miles missed you as much as you missed him.”

“Mommy?” Molly hugged her mother’s thigh. “Can you tell Auntie Jadzia I don’t like gagh? They kept trying to make me try it.”

“Aww.” Keiko crouched to console her daughter as Julian laughed by the doorway, nodding in understanding. “Don’t worry, Molly. After today, no more gagh.”

Miles came out of the bedroom, freshly dressed in a floral shirt. “Gah!” He’d barely gotten a foot closer before Julian’s arms enclosed him in a tight grip and started rocking him from foot to foot.

Miles chuckled, hanging onto Julian’s shoulders when they finally pulled back. “Alright, I missed you, Julian, but not that much.”

“Ohhh, I have so much to tell you!” Julian threw his head back for emphasis. “It turned out to be a tattoo! Can you believe it? I mean, obviously you and me can still go through the thing again from the start. Garak screwed up the script completely so it’s not like I even knew what was going on by the time we got to the end—”

“Julian. Julian. What?”

“Bourgeoisie’s tattoo! Obviously, Eidolon was out of his mind when he realised I’d figured it out, because I almost had to sleep with her to discover how to progress the plot. Oh, and I’m sleeping with him now. But that’s besides the point— We’re going to need to adjust the game settings a little because I’m definitely not going to sleep with her this time around if you’re playing Falcon and Eidolon’s not there.”

Miles’ mouth opened, then closed. He glanced at his wife, who shrugged.

“What’s Bourgeoisie?” Miles asked. “What— Who’s Eidolon? Who—? Who’re you sleeping with? And— What?”

Keiko gave Julian a pat-pat on the back, then told him, “Here’s a hint. Deep breath. Start from the beginning.”

Julian took a deep breath, and decided the beginning was too complicated and private, so said, “Garak.”

“What about him?”

“Sleeping with him.”

“Who is?”

“Me.”

Miles sat down. Luckily there was an armchair arm behind him, which he wobbled over. He steadied himself, hands out, then sat still for a moment, fingers held on his lap. Then he let out a breath.

In the ensuing silence, Keiko fussed with Molly and shooed her off to bed with a kiss, then came back, wearing a faint smile.

“What... What else?” Miles ventured.

“And,” Julian said, “Bourgeoisie had a map tattooed across her middle, and Garak never had it at all – he was bluffing the whole time. But to be fair, that’s a bit of a spoiler, and I probably shouldn’t have said anything. But then again, like I mentioned, we need to adjust the settings so I don’t have to undress her to find that out. Because, actually, I think the thing with Garak might be – pretty serious. Like, a, um, ‘romantic relationship’ ssssort of thing. And he’s not a big fan of the Bashir girls. Well, he is. He... ‘admires’ them, apparently. Just not when they’re trying to sleep with me. Except I think he’s just jealous because they’re all better than him at literally everything. Including seducing me. Took him six years, and Bourgeoisie managed it in six minutes.”

Miles did some frantic blinking while his brain processed.

“Anyway,” Julian said, a bit awkwardly. He was reassured by Keiko’s proud grin.

Miles took a deep breath. “And... what’s an Eidolon, exactly?”

“On Cardassia it’s supposed to be— Hang on, I adjusted the translators so it’ll—” Julian readied his throat for the rough pronunciation, “Dar’nekkan. In Federation Standard it’s ‘eidolon’. It’s a creature from Cardassian myth, but the concept was so similar to the Greek word that the computer thought they were the same thing. It’s a sort of Cardassian succubus or narcissistic demon that seduces people with its flawlessness, offering a perfect image of oneself. Or a perfect lover to fawn over and idolise, apparently.”

“Alright? Did one barge its way onto the station while we were away, or what?”

“Oh. No. Garak borrowed its name while he borrowed Falcon’s role.”

Miles puffed up, then stood up. “You let Garak play Falcon?”

“No, he played Eidolon.”

“You slept with him?! You slept with him while he was Falcon?”

“Oh, boy,” Keiko uttered, turning away and going to the replicator for something to drink.

“He wasn’t Falcon; he was Eidolon!”

“Playing Falcon’s role!”

“Well—?! You weren’t here! And Garak chased Bourgeoisie away! I was lonely and desperate and horny and then he tied me up – and for God’s sake, Miles, he was wearing eyeshadow.”

Miles drew back in perplexion. “He what?”

“Black.” Julian wriggled a pointing finger around his eyes to illustrate. “Really brought out his eyes.”

“No, the— Tied you—” Miles pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just promise me you’ll take the bondage out of the program before you let me anywhere near it.”

Keiko stood near them, sipping her tea and watching the show with a small smile. Julian caught her eye, and she smiled wider. “Didn’t think I would miss you two doing this,” she noted. “But after eight days of Miles grumbling at everyone else... Hm!” She shrugged with her face, then sipped more tea, eyes twinkling. “Turns out you absorb the brunt of the grump, Julian. Maybe next time we will bring you.”

Julian went giddy with glee.

Miles sat down again. “I could pull off eyeshadow,” he grumbled.

Julian tutted. “I’m sure you could, Miles.” He threw a playful look at Keiko, and she just shook her head fondly. “What do you think, blue?”

“Golden brown,” she said. “Little winged eyeliner?”

Miles folded his arms.

Julian grinned, then reached to bat his friend’s shoulder. “Eighteen-hundred hours tomorrow, Miles. Holosuite four.”

Miles sighed. “Alright.”

“I’ll, uh... take out the bondage.”

There was no bondage to take out. But Miles didn’t need to know that.

“Bashir to Garak.”

Garak looked up from his padd in his dimly lit bedroom, blinking around at the sound of Julian’s voice. “Hello, doctor? Is something the matter?”

“I know it’s incredibly late... I just... Um.”

Garak put aside his padd and smiled. “Don’t be shy, doctor, I’m quite alone.”

“I’m in holosuite two. I’ve booked us an hour.”

Garak chuckled, swinging his legs out of bed. “I’m on my way.”

Eidolon stood in the holosuite doorway, marching in full of determination and black-armoured menace. The doors closed behind him, and Eidolon immediately became Garak, all soft and surprised.

Julian was lying naked on a picnic blanket in a field, surrounded by pastel-coloured flowering bushes. One hand played through his hair, the other lay elegantly on his inner hip. Birds were tweeting. The sun was shining. No tuxedo or poisoned cufflinks in sight.

Garak blinked. “Are we not to engage in that favourite game of yours, doctor?”

“Hm, we are.” Julian beckoned with a finger.

Garak floated to him and dropped to his knees without really thinking about it. He was pulled down by that same beckoning finger in his collar. His lips were given the most delicate kiss, then his eyes and heart were treated to a smile most radiant as Julian peered up from Garak’s shadow.

“But,” Julian said, “I have two favourite games now. This one’s pretty difficult to lose. I think you’ll like it.”

Garak smiled, and let Julian undo his tunic from one side, opening the hidden clasps one by one as slowly as he dared.

“I suppose this’ll be another of our little secrets?” Garak asked as he lay himself down unclothed in Julian’s arms, flower petals falling to touch his bare shoulders.

Julian grinned. “Secret? You mean after Kira gave me the program out of Jadzia’s library, Quark installed it, Keiko gave me the blanket, Sisko judged me silently, and Miles asked more questions than he wanted to know the answers to?” Julian gave Garak a peck on the lips. “Not even a little bit.”

Against all odds, Garak, having had his private life exposed, found himself laughing.

Julian’s eyes, already squinting in the sunlight, crinkled more with a chuckle of his own.

Never was there such sight of flawed, messy beauty as what Garak saw in dear Julian. And mirrored in those big and shiny eyes was a view of himself. Just as much of a disaster, lightyears from perfect. But good enough for Julian to love.

So... good enough.

He could live with a little openness. He could enjoy it, even.

Because it was Julian.

Because it was him.

Unbound. Free. Choosing Garak anyway.