And through all of it, Elim Garak's penetrating blue eyes were upon him, pinning him in place as he watched Julian become entranced by all of it. Stared as the young man rolled his head to the side with a faint whimper, dark eyelashes brushing against damp cheeks as he tried to keep his eyes on the spectacle. The intoxicating fragrance of the arena was undoubtedly having an effect upon him, willing his senses into sensitized peaks, urging his entire body into a state of heightened sensations.

The blue eyes were gone now, and Julian blinked again as unfamiliar faces rolled before him in some dizzying, drunken wave. His dark, fully dilated eyes slipped lazily sideways to watch more of the ecstasy that was being created in the midst of the crimson sand, to watch as the tribalmen began to dance sensually with each other, a long, corded limb twining with the graceful curve of an arm, cool gray scales glistening and raised with passion as the five men rose their dance to another, frenzied level ... the music pounded, the furious calls of the audience swimming around him ... the men were kissing now, one sprawled on the floor and mimicking the inviting seduction of death, reaching for his companions as his hips lifted in a provocative rhythm, beating in accordance to the drums as the hounds made their circle tighter, drawing close to the five dancers who would soon be their preys ... avian predators swung in a lazy circle above them, hoping to catch some few remnants, making the whole scene very sensually, very slow and provocative and symetrical.

The intoxicating blue eyes were no longer to be found, but Julian still swam in a drunken state of being, tortured by the heightened peak of his arousal, whimpering as his fingers clawed absently at the neckline of his blouse. Hands -- ice against the fire which roamed his flesh -- circled his waist, pulling the hips against a pair of strong, muscled thighs. Julian cried out, pushing with all his might against the inviting presence, uncaring of its identity, the only thing to matter the steel at his groin, and the spectacle that urged on his fire.

The men now cried for each other, limbs tangled with one another's, cocks jutting and almost black with arousal as they roamed their hands to their companions, urging the multiple climaxes as they arched and moaned in ecstasy ... as the hounds grew excited by the scent of their essence and dove into the pile, fangs dripping with hunger as the hounds tore into the mess of oblivious men, killing the already killed, sinking deep into the very depths of their souls as the spectacle grew to a frenzied finish.

Julian arched his hips into his lover's hand, mimicking the few men he was able to keep track off, pulling harshly at Garak's hair from behind as he slithered in absolute, intoxicated, ecstasy in the Cardassian's arms. Liquid fire spilled from his uncovered cock, mingling with the scent of others around him, hundreds ... thousands others who were lost in the grips of orgasmic delight. He felt the cloth covering his backside dampen with Garak's own essence, and he groaned, wanting more, wanting all, as the Cardassian finally sealed their union by sinking his teeth into the inviting flesh of Julian's shoulder, tearing the tunic open to steal more access as he drank eagerly from the very liquor of his soul ... of his lover ... emulating the hounds and their passionate displays as he ferociously took possession of Julian Bashir entirely.

A simple, cultural, group execution, he said.

The End