Six holosuite-related injuries, three major surgical interventions and one heart failure had comprised Julian Bashir's morning, and still the young doctor watched as the steady flow of patients flooded his infirmary. He needed a vacation. Perhaps even a sabbatical. Of course he knew that was impossible. A good back rub on the other hand would just about suit his sore muscles right now.

He glanced at the chronometer. Thank god, he sighed. I can go to lunch. He hadn't even thought of eating before catching the time, and now his stomach growled insistently as he made his way out of the little infirmary. Behind him his nurses scurried to fulfill his usual duties.

"Doctor!" a familiar voice called, halting his progress toward the replimat. He grinned and turned, acknowledging his friend as he walked gracefully toward him. "I haven't seen you in a while," he added confidentially.

Julian stared at his friend Elim Garak, and thought for the umpteenth time how he'd been ignoring the tailor lately. He didn't mean to -- had in fact missed his presence for the past few weeks. Yet demanding duties and O'Brien's sudden interest in his company had left him little time to offer the Cardassian. He knew he could always cut some time off from Miles, but Bashir had been so excited at the Engineer's sudden change of heart that Julian found himself not wanting to risk offending the Irishman by denying his friendship. He was certain Garak understood. Besides, the tailor had quickly made a routine out of having breakfast with Constable Odo every morning, so he supposed there were no hard feelings.

"Garak," he smiled brightly in spite of his exhaustion. "It's good to see you."

The tailor pursed his lips as he studied the young man's face. From the dark circles rimming his eyes and the unmistakable shallowness which deprived sleep usually induced, he assumed the good doctor hadn't had much time for leisure of late. He smiled disarmingly, pressing a comforting hand on Julian's thin shoulder. "The feeling is mutual. But tell me Doctor -- have you had some rest lately? You look positively horrible!"

Julian walked away with the tailor toward the replimat. "Thanks," he muttered sardonically. "That's just the thing I need -- someone reminding me how truly repulsive I am." He sighed loudly as though to flush out all the stress in one breath. "I'm just so tired." They sat down at a secluded table and Julian rested his chin on his fist. "What I wouldn't give to curl up in my bed right now . . ." A wistful smile curved his lips, and his eyes lost focus for a moment as he imagined himself sinking into folds of soft warm covers. "Just sleep . . ."

Garak narrowed a critical eye as he surveyed the young man's posture. It was painfully obvious that Julian was in agony. Any outside observer might not have noticed, yet Garak's sharp eye had caught the wince the simple act of sitting down had elicited, and by the way Julian held himself he was quite certain his back was hurting like hell.

A smile suddenly tugged at the corner of his lips and he leaned forward. "Doctor, I have an idea. Come with me."

The tailor's odd request, matched with the evident enthusiasm surrounding it, pried Julian out of his fantasy. He snapped up and scowled up at Garak. "What?"

"Come with me," Garak insisted, tugging persistently at his arm to follow him.

Just when he'd gotten comfortable, the young man thought. He lifted himself up with difficulty and followed Garak out of the replimat. A few moments later, he found himself inside the infirmary once again.

He glared at the tailor. "Garak, I have an hour off for lunch. I don't intend to spend it in -here-," he protested.

But he was ignored. Instead, he watched with fascination as Garak marched inside the ICU and spread his arms wide. "I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen," he apologized loudly enough for the whole infirmary to hear him. "But the Doctor has ordered everyone to clear the area."

Nurses from all four corners of the room lifted their heads to the Cardassian, frowning over their padds and terminal. Garak folded his arms, waiting. "Well?" he inquired after a moment. "I would suggest haste -- the Doctor is in desperate need of the facilities, and no one is to disturb him. Isn't that right Doctor?" he directed at Bashir, his features silently pleading him to play along. Julian shrugged, blinking wearily as he found himself too tired to protest. "It's true," he droned, not even certain where this would lead.

"Splendid," Garak exulted, shooing the confused medical officers out of the area. "You heard the Doctor. And remember! No one is to disturb him. Or rather -- us," he said under his breath and smiling at a private thought. "Come back in an hour!" he threw at them. He closed the door and turned, only to find Julian staring at him with confusion.

"Garak, what are you doing?" he queried, sighing loudly in exasperation.

"Hush," snapped the Cardassian. "The patient will not question his doctor," he added quite seriously.

"What? What are you talking about? Garak, I'm really not in the mood for a guessing game right now."

"Ah!" he breathed, strolling forward. "Voice is hoarse, alarming pallor of skin . . ." He moved closer and pressed his palms over the young man's temples, easing his head backward. He bent forward and studied every feature in Bashir's befuddled face with attention. "Pupils dilated, shallowness of skin . . . my my Mr. Bashir -- we haven't been taking care of ourselves lately have we? No worry . . . I'll have you fit in no time."

"Garak . . ."

"Ah ah!" Garak chided, waving a finger. "No disrespect for my title Mr. Bashir. It's Doctor!"

Julian slumped his shoulders and shook his head in utter desperation. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing Garak, but it's beginning to annoy me." He looked up, only to find the tailor next to the biobed, tapping his hand on the padded surface. "Hop on," he ordered. "I'll need a more thorough exam in order to assess your condition." At Julian's persistent glare, Garak relaxed slightly and tilted his head. "Indulge me, will you Doctor?"

"Oh very well!" hissed the young man as he climbed the bed. He leaned back and waited.

"On your stomach," Garak added.

Missing the small grin pasted on the tailor's face, Julian turned away and rolled unto his stomach. "Whatever it is you intend to do Garak, please make it quick so that I can -- oooooh," he moaned suddenly, shivering as strong hands began massaging his neck. His eyes fluttered shut and his body instantly relaxed under the firm touch.

"Such tension," commented Garak with a purely clinical tone. "I shall have to release this before it cripples your body permanently. Young man, I'll need to take this uniform off to proceed properly." He tugged suggestively at the material.

Oblivious to the wicked little smile directed at his back, Julian mumbled softly against his arms. "I can't get up."

"Ah! No problem." He retreated to a cart and picked up a laser scalpel from the array of instruments. When he walked back, he peeked a look at Julian. "I'll be opening your uniform now Mr. Bashir."

"Whatever," he mumbled, his eyes closed and tingling with sleep.

As Garak applied the scalpel to open the uniform, his thoughts swam toward the delicious skin as it slowly revealed itself through the fissure he was making. He could hardly wait to rove his hands all over the soft golden hue of that back and then lower to . . . well, he smiled. That was for later.

Finished with his task, Garak replaced the scalpel and retrieved some lotions. He studied them critically, opened the lids and smelled the contents. Nodding approvingly, he applied some gel in his hands and rubbed them together vigorously. He pushed the hems apart with the back of his hands and swiftly began the massage. Julian's eyelids trembled, and a soft moan escaped his lips. "Oh that feels good," he slurred. "Gar--"

"Ah ah!"

"Doctor," Julian corrected wryly. "Where did you acquire such tactile talent?"

"Well a Doctor has to make do with what he has, no? Would you believe that I was once a tailor?" he asked conversationally, digging his palms into the taut muscles. Julian groaned, arching his spine.

"Really?" he managed.

Garak hummed pleasantly as he turned away from Julian's upper body. He pushed his hands downward, widening the opening in the young man's uniform. Wherever his hands touched, a trail of glistening oil marked his path. In the bright light of the infirmary, every curve of Julian's sinuous back became sharply defined.

"You have a very attractive back," Garak went on casually. "I so rarely encounter such perfection in my patients."

"Really?" Julian queried absently, intently focused on Garak's exquisite ministrations.

Garak hissed approvingly as he buried his hands further down the uniform, pinching the rounded ass. "Oh most definitely," he whispered.

Julian gasped at the sensations and gripped the side of the biobed with white knuckle strenght. "Doctor!" he exclaimed, trying to sound appalled. "Aren't you bound by some patient ethical code?"

Garak chuckled, pleased that Julian was finally playing along his little fantasy. "Oh yes. But then I hardly ever have the opportunity to work with such a devastatingly beautiful body such as yours, Mr. Bashir." His hands scuttled away and returned to the back. As he kneaded the last tension away, Julian pressed his forehead to the head rest and moaned. "Doctor?"

"Yes Mr Bashir?"

"I seem to be very tense a little further down. The pain did go away when you kneaded the muscles . . ."

Garak sighed pleasantly. "You're the patient, my dear young man. Who am I to argue?" He turned backward again and ripped the seam open. He took the scalpel anew and quickly divested the young man of his briefs. "There we are. Much better I trust?"

Julian only moaned.

"I'll take that as a yes," Garak grinned. He cupped the shapely backside and began massaging the strong muscles with firmness. Behind him, Julian threw his head on the side, gratified sounds rumbling in his throat. "Doctor . . ." he panted. "It's not working as well as I thought . . ."

Garak paused to take more oil and grinned mischievously. "An easily corrected condition," he whispered, and swiftly pushed a finger inside the tender cleft. This time Julian growled and arched his back with feline grace. "Oh much better!" he cried, spreading his legs to allow easier access.

The fantasy drifted away momentarily as both resettled into their characters. Still buried inside Julian, Garak leaned sideways and brushed his lips against the doctor's ear. Julian responded eagerly, turning his head and capturing the Cardassian's mouth in a passionate kiss. As their tongue mingled and explored the other's sweetness, Garak squeezed another finger inside and wiggled a path deeper into the heated depths to stroke the tender flesh aptly. Julian moaned against the tailor's lips and intensified the kiss. "Garak," he whispered hoarsely, nuzzling the Cardassian's neck. "Please, I want you inside me . . ."

"That would be straining the patient ethical code," Garak teased, falling back on the illusion.

"To hell with the code," Julian hissed. "I need you now."

Garak bowed slightly. "As you wish. The patient is always right after all. Or is it the customer is always right? I seem to constantly confuse the two."

"GARAK!"

The tailor laughed gently as he took back his hands. Recalling Julian's remark about not being able to get up, he smiled and swept the young man off the table. He settled him on the ground and immediately slipped the uniform off the young man's shoulders. Julian only laughed. "My my . . . the doctor is certainly impatient, isn't he?"

Garak latched on to a nipple and flicked his tongue over it repeatedly. "The Doctor wouldn't be so impatient were the patient less appealing," he breathed, straightening up and fixing Julian with a provocative look. "I think it's time for the last test, Mr Bashir. If the patient would kindly turn around . . ."

Julian answered the smile and kissed the tailor one last time before swiveling around. He waited for Garak's touch, which he noted lingered to come. "Doctor?"

"I can't do a thing with your clothes on, Mr. Bashir. I would recommend you take them off first."

Blind to the appraising stare from behind, Julian bent down as he slid the crumpled uniform to the floor. He stepped out of the fabric and kicked it away. The lavender shirt which had been incised in the back fell to the front, and Bashir shrugged quickly out of it. "How's that?" he panted, fighting every urge to turn around.

Garak's voice brushed his ear. "Much better," he murmured. Cool hands tickled the length of Julian's body, sending shivers of pleasure everywhere the tailor's fingers touched. He was vaguely aware of Garak's hand reaching beside him for the bottle of oil, and a smile spread his lips.

"I think I'm ready for that test now," he groaned, bracing himself on the side of the bed.

"Excellent . . ." Garak whispered.

A moment later, the tailor was swiftly plunging in. Julian gasped and cried aloud at the sensation, the force of the drive pushing him against the edge of the biobed. He groaned as the Cardassian slowly pulled out and drove again, quickly establishing a rhythm. Still thrusting steadily, he bent forward and pushed Julian flat against the table. One hand playfully enmeshed itself in the doctor's soft dark curls while the other stole downward to the beautifully erect sex. As he touched and caressed it, Julian began rocking back and forth, meeting each time the exquisite pleasure given on both sides.

"The patient is in excellent form," Garak managed through clenched teeth, his thrusts quickening with the need to release. His hand matched the rhythm on Julian's sex, and the act got the young man moaning and writhing helplessly beneath the Cardassian's frame.

"I'm -- glad the -- doctor approves," Julian moaned, the last word transmuting into a cry of ecstasy as he spilled his seed over the tailor's hand.

"Most -- definitely," Garak conceded, thrusting one last time with the force of his climax. Both men slumped forward and released their breath in a unified sigh of gratification.

"Best physical I ever had," Julian murmured. Garak pulled out with a chuckle and fastened his trousers as he watched Bashir straighten and stretch his back. "You know, I think this actually helped!" he marveled. Garak nuzzled his face in his neck and smiled.

"Best remedy I was ever taught," he breathed, licking the glistening skin. "But actually it--" he paused suddenly, and Bashir frowned.

"It what?" he raised his head. "Garak what--" then he too paused at the sight greeting him. At the door, a cluster of nurses stared at them wide-eyed. Some were fighting the urge to laugh, others were simply too shocked for words.

Garak straightened up along with Bashir and both glared at them.

"It's -- it's been an hour," a nurse stammered. She was well aware that they should all turn away, yet the spectacle was too stunning to allow movement.

Opposite them, Garak was battling his own urge to run away, aware that Bashir was fighting the impulse even more in his exposed state. At the nurses' insistent gaze, Garak suddenly smiled and clasped the young man's shoulder. "So -that's- how a prostate exam is usually done. Thank you Doctor for that most . .enlightening lesson." He switched his gaze to the nurses and winked. "I'm in medical training," he explained with a grin.

Julian collapsed unto the bed, burying his highly flushed face inside his arms as deeply as it would go.

The End