Was that a moan? He turned on his cot, lacing his hands over his chest and stilling his breath. Again! There, it was coming from his left. Slowly he turned his head and watched the cot nearest to him. Doctor Bashir's. And he was moving restlessly. Garak settled more comfortably and watched as the young man turned to the side with another moan. Everywhere else was quiet - the silence peppered with Sisko and Dax's faint snoring. Garak found himself entranced by this bout of voyeurism, and continued to watch closely. Finally, he decided to get an even closer look.

Elim Garak was of reptilian heritage; it was easy to forget that when speaking with the eloquent and erudite tailor. Yet no one would have taken him for something other than a serpent if they saw how fluidly he snaked out of bed, bent down to avoid being seen. His palms touched the rock floor soundlessly, keeping him balanced as he lowered himself to his belly, avoiding breathing; avoiding any unnecessary movements. With portentous speed, he crawled toward Bashir's cot, the only noise to break the stillness being Bashir's continued moans. If he continued, Garak was well aware that someone else might wake. And to be caught near the doctor, half naked, was not something the Cardassian wished out of this encounter.

So when he neared the young man's cot, Garak slithered up, and very silently pressed his hand to Bashir's lips. Quite amazingly, the young man didn't wake up. What was more startling was that Garak's action seemed to increase the doctor's arousal. Whatever Bashir was dreaming, Garak had a sudden urge to be part of it. He licked his lips as he looked down, watching Bashir's legs restlessly stir under the covers. There was an unmistakable bulge pushing against he thin fabric that covered him; something only one of Garak's Cardassian vision might have caught. The tailor then felt moisture at his palm, and immediately knew Bashir had parted his lips to lick at his hand. A cursory glance around the immediate perimeter confirmed that no one had woken from the disturbance, and Garak returned his attention to his squirming prey.

His training kicked in.

The Order had honed in him a very coveted and important ability; the trick to any good inquisitor, after all, was to acquire information from his subject without the subject knowing he was being interrogated at all. Garak consequently discovered he could put this talent to any situation. One of his most celebrated mission had simultaneously been the most bizarre. Infiltrating the home of a prominent military official with the intent to capture him and interrogate him, Garak had been surprised to find the militant in question stirring restlessly in sleep and muttering under his breath. A few suggestive sentences later, Garak was

perched at the man's bed and asking questions that were all lucidly answered by the still sleeping official. A mixture of hypnosis and Garak's suggestive voice had earned him answers from a man who never knew he had been interrogated at all.

Now he considered putting this ability to more - pleasurable uses. With his hand still on Bashir's lips, Garak leaned down, making himself small as he crouched next to the cot's head rest. He pressed his lips to the fragile shell of the young man's ear, and began to speak in a mere whisper. A few suggestive, hypnotic phrases, and he knew the young man would be responsive to anything he asked. He released his mouth, though kept a stocky finger over the doctor's swollen lower lip, spreading his own saliva over it enticingly.

"Who is with you?" he asked softly, the Cardassian's lips still pressed to Bashir's.

The first response was so quiet Garak had to repeat the question more suggestively. Then Bashir replied in a breath, "I - am with Gul Garak." There was confusion in his voice, and Garak had to take a moment to gather his wits. He trailed his finger down the elegantly curved chin, brushing the rest of his fingers against Bashir's throat.

"Where are you?"

Bashir squirmed, letting go of a pained groan. "Cardassia."

Garak was increasingly aware of his own need pressing against his trousers. He plowed on raucously, "You are in an interrogation chamber. Gul Garak is

presiding over your inquisition." It had been too perfect a setting, after all. "What is he doing to you?"

Bashir groaned again, this time arching his neck. Even in the near lightlessness, Garak could perceive the fluttering eyes moving in time with the scene that unfurled inside Julian's dream. "- punished -" he murmured with an agonizing voice.

Interesting. Garak inhaled deeply, letting his other hand fall to his groin. He massaged himself slowly as he continued his odd interrogation. "What is he using?"

"- whip. I'm - Oh God!" Garak winced. That had been too loud. He hissed in the young man's ear,

"Silence! From now on you whisper - or this interrogation will end."

He had tested a theory, and it had worked. Bashir looked suddenly panicked. "No - please -" He craved this, Garak realized. He finally let his hand fall inside his briefs, clutching his cock harshly as he bit his lip to regain his own control.

He continued, "Do you want him to fuck you, Julian?" he breathed, his other hand now pressing against Bashir's throat, wrapping his fingers over the dainty curve of flesh.

Another, more quiet groan. Bashir arched his back this time and whispered, "Yes. Please - I want hi- yes - yes ..." Each a whisper, each hissed out painfully. Garak closed his eyes, wishing with all with being that he was inside Julian's mind right now. But he could do no more right now, as Julian lapsed into silence. Garak began to formulate a question when his eyes were drawn downward. Bashir's hips were lifted from the cot, trembling it seemed - then Garak forgot entirely about everything else around him. He bowed his head and rubbed his cock more vigorously, biting cleanly through his lip as he stifled the cry that would have accompanied his release. He spilled his essence over the rock floor, just beneath Julian's cot. He released his breath and slumped forward.

"Garak -?"

Garak's eyes flew opened. Bashir was looking at him dazedly through panting breaths and a film of sweat which covered his celestial face. Garak groaned softly and pressed his lips over the young man's lips. "Sleep, Julian. The session's over for tonight," he whispered.

Julian merely closed his eyes without an acknowledgment, still panting as sleep slowly crept back into his face. Garak returned slowly to his cot and slipped under the cover, trying to still his own breath. Garak had no trouble falling asleep this time.

Well. War wasn't so bad after all, was it?

The End