Star Trek: DS9. Bashir doesn't know who to fantasize about. Incorporates plot elements revealed in "Dr. Bashir, I Presume," but takes place before then. NC-17.
Julian Bashir woke up for his first day off in over a month satisfied in the knowledge that he didn't have to be anywhere. He didn't have to do anything.
Well, maybe one thing. As long as it had been since he'd had a decent night's sleep, a day off, or time to hone his facade as an overcompensating kid on the Dabo girls at Quark's, it had been almost as long since he'd had a chance to find in interesting partner, or even take care of things for himself.
He'd been looking forward to this. He'd even remembered to set the lights in his cabin so that they would stay dim after he woke up. He ran his left hand across his chest, and slowly slid his right one up his thighs until he found his cock.
He stroked it slowly. It felt ... wonderful. It had been far, far too long, and he was hard almost immediately. With long, languid strokes from the base of himself to just under the head of his cock, he sorted though his mental list of fantasies, looking for one that would be worthy of feeding the first orgasm he'd had in a month.
He thought about Dax ... her laughing mouth, her eyes. She was more than smart, she had a wisdom to her, years and years of wisdom. Maybe one day she'd be interested, maybe could she'd be the one he could confess his secret to. He wanted so much to be honest to someone who could understand that what he was made him different from everyone else ... When he'd first met her he'd been so sure that she could be the perfect woman for him.
He fantasized intimacy with Dax, laughing under clean sheets while she rolled him onto his back, stradling him. He touched himself, thinking about licking her sweet, small breasts, her salty neck, wrapping his legs around her long, tall form. She would gasp that she loved him as he moved in her wet, warm, depths.
... No, that wasn't right. Bashir grunted, and buried the image. Not now, no ... Jadzia had rejected him. A lot. She didn't see though the facade at all. She thought he was some young pup. He didn't want to think about that rejection right now, even though he wasn't completely ready to give up on Dax herself.
Some other fantasy then. Something dangeous, something sweet ... Bashir found himself easing into the seductive thoughts of letting go, releasing for a short while the responsibility of being in control. Every day he had to pretend to be someone he wasn't, to keep himself safe, to keep his family safe. How delicious to let it go, to take orders, to... submit.
Bashir licked first two fingers, moistening them and then using them to soak the head of his aching cock. He ringed it with the wet fingertips, leaving hot trails where skin met skin. He imagined himself in the captain's office, on his knees under the captain's desk. He imagined licking the cock in front of him, leaving the same trails on it that his fingers were leaving on his right now ...
Yes, that was it. He began to relax into his fantasy. On his knees, he would be, hiding, sucking, licking. Don't get caught, as the business of Ops goes on outside the door, but at the same time, try to provoke the recipient of his administrations into making enough noise to get them caught. In his minds eye, he knelt undernear Sisko's dek, right hand on his own cock, left hand cupping the cock he was sucking. Who's cock though? Not Sisko's, defininately not. Bashir had fantasized about fucking almost everyone who worked on Deep Space Nine, but had yet to find any interest at all in Sisko's blustery, overstating manner.
In his fantasy, the owner of the cock was beginning to grunt in respomse to his ministrations. Bashir imagined leaning forward, looking up into the contorted face, ready to populate it with a grimace of pleasure - and saw Garak, heard him groan down to Bashir, mumbling the phrase 'Dear Dorctor' ...
Bashir's hand froze, clenching almost too tightly on his cock, startled into breaking his fantasy. Garak? He let his mind wander, and it brought him ... Garak?
He rolled onto his stomach, bunching his pillow under his chest with both hands, glaring at the wall. He absentmindedly rubbed his hard cock against his bed, because after all, he was going to come back to it as soon as he figured out where his head had taken him.
He wondered if people who hadn't had genetic interferance had the same inability to focus their desires. Almost everyone else seemed to find a way to settle down, to find just one person to desire for what they thought the rest of their lives. Bashir wanted ... to fuck ... everyone. Maybe there was somethinng in his rearranged genetic code that was responding to some primal evolutionary desire to reproduce as often as possible, to become the dominant species.
He would control that impulse, that's for sure! He would not be another Khan. But he ached for a companion, for someone who, like himself, was more than they seemed. Like Dax ...
No, not like Dax! Bashir rolled back over on his back, glaring at the ceiling. Let it go, he told himself. She is not interested! There will be no warm, wise acceptance from Jadzia Dax. Now, Garak ...
He wasn't dense enough to wonder why the Cardassian's face had popped into his head while he'd been touching himself. How interested he was ... might was well find out. He leaned forward until his hands were on the end of the bed. "Computer, show basic Cardassian anatomy model, male." He kept one hand on his cock, stroking it while he examined the form. It was appealing enough. He had read enough medical texts on Cardassian anatomy to understand that they were basically sexually compatible with humans, and to have an idea of what their erogenous zones would be. Reading it was somewhat comparable to the experience he'd had when he was eleven of reading an age-appropriate book about sex. You got the general idea that certain things were supposed to feel good when you did them to your partner, but you found out many years in the future how wrong - or how right - you had been.
So there was a lot to be left to the imagination ... Julian Bashir stared at the figure on screen, and began to rub himself again. Garak, he imagined, Garak naked with him in his bed, rubbing his back while he licked the Cardassian's ridged cock. Garak's hand clutching him, rubbing him, running his thumb around the ridge of his cock head. "Computer, show ... Cardassian male form in state of arousal ..."
The cock on the form in front of him stiffened, thickened and rose. Such an interesting pattern of scales! He wondered if they varied, like fingerprints. He gasped, rocking his hips back and forth, clutching at his cock and groaning his commands, "Computer, r...r...replicate lifesize model of genital area of aroused Cardassian male. Flex...ible silicone based material. Body temperature."
The sex toy materialized in the replicator. He grabbed it, gasping, and admired it for as long as he could stand before licking it, covering it with as much saliva as he could. It had been a long time since he'd had sex ... with anyone! He was so much on edge, he was surprised he hadn't come already. He certainly wouldn't need to waste too much time on preparation. "Compbther, srrrrppprrr Grrrk nnn mdrlll."
"Command not understood."
Bashir, irritated, pulled the replicated Cardassian dildo from his mouth and repeated his command. "Computer, superimpose the face of Cardassian station resident Garak on model."
Bashir didn't want to go back to the fantasy in the Captain's office. He imagined instead, Garak's shop, with it's loose curtains, imagined them clinging to each other in one of the changing room, trying to keep quiet. Garak would hold him up against a wall, maybe, and he would wrap his legs around the man's solid, strong frame ...
As the nude, aroused figure of a Cardassian with Garak's face rotated on the screen in front of him, Bashir placed the wet dildo firmly on the bed, and got on his hands and knees. The dildo had a blocky square based, weighted enough so that he push himself back up against it withought tipping it over. Wasting no time, he arranged himself so that the wet tip was pressing gently against his asshole. Garak would tease him, he decided, pushing it gently up against him, then pulling back, then rub his ridged head up and down between Bashir's buttocks. Tease, tease ... and then - Bashir groaned, his voice ascending - push his cock head gently into him.
"Yesssss..." Bashir rocked gently, holding the dildo just inside of him, reveling in the sensation of stretching, of fullness, of the slow, strong electric fingers of arousal that it sent through his body, dizzying him, pulsing and thrumming in his cock. "Yes!" This time it was a shout. Triumphant, he pushed back onto the dildo, easing it in a little bit farther. Not too fast, don't want to ruin it ... Garak - why had he never thought of Garak? Garak with his obfuscations and his manipulative games, his secrets. He wore them on the outside, but you never knew which one was the real truth. Bashir wore his on the inside, a real truth he could never let people know. Maybe that's why Garak had approached him, maybe Garak saw something through the facade, something about who Bashir really was.
"Oh God, do it now!"
"Command not understood." The Computer responded.
"Switch to manual operations only!" Bashir gasped. He imagined Garak teasing him, pulling as though to take his cock out of the Doctor. He leaned back again, slowly, strongly pushing the dildo into him, until it was halfway in. He was sweating.
Slow and steady, Bashir took the dildo into himself until he was stetched and deliciously full, until he could feel the base of the thing against him. Yes, he thought, and let out a groan. Thank goodness for the soundproofing on the station! Now, finally, after almost a month, he would be able to find relief!
He squatted firmly on the dildo, put his left hand behind him for balace, and attacked his cock. He rubbed, rubbed, desperate, aching for release. He imagined himself squatting over Garak on the floor of Garak's shop, riding the Cardassian. Garak would hold his knees to support him ... or maybe he would clutch at Bashir's hips, hold his ass tight around his own throbbing cock. Would he smile as Bashir came, covering them both?
There was no release. Bashir collapsed onto his back, clenching to hold the dildo inside of him. Why couldn't he come? He had masturbated with dildos many times ... what had changed now? Full penetration, coupled with vigorous self abuse had never failed him before.
Maybe the fantasy was wrong. Bashir kept stroking for a moment, but quickly let go. If he went on for too much longer, his cock would get too sore for any kind of relief, or maybe even for another attempt in an hour if this was a complete failure. Take a break, he told himself, fighting back the whimpers of frustration. He felt like yelling. "Computer?"
"Computer?" Damnit, he had switched it to manual only. Moving awkwardly, trying neither to touch himself excessively or let the dildo slip, he rolled himself close enough to the edge of the bed to reach the computer, and tapped the screen with shaking, damp hands until he was in the security files that his position as an officer on the station gave him access to. He switched it back to audio.
"Computer, compile a slideshow of still images from security footage of myself with the Cardassian Garak. Two second intervals. Random order."
He roolled slowly onto his back, enjoying the slow sensations of movement in his ass, as the dildo shifted with him. He didn't touch himself, but trusted himself slightly, forward, waving his hard cock in the air as he watched imaged flip by. Himself and Garak in the medical bay, in his shop, in Quark's, in the medical bay again, eating lunch - wait!
"Computer, freeze program and rewind to the last image." There he was, sitting with Garak, the first time the man had ever approached him. It had taken all his acting skills to keep his cover about not knowing what was going on with Tana and the Klingon women. "Computer, can you play the security footage associated with that still."
He watched Garak sit down, flirt with him. He watched himself, playing the role of the shy, green young man, so far out of his depth. That little jump when Garak touched him ... that had been no act. It had been the most honest thing he'd done since he'd been on the station.
The fantasy came with almost no effort at all. "Garak!" he moaned, as the heat flooded back through him. He imagined himself and Garak at that first meeting, but this time ther tables around them were empty, and the walls around the tables kept the area private from people walking by. He rubbed, fast, hard, his hand making wet slapping sounds. Garak, instead of leaving after touching him, had pulled him to his feet, bent him over the table, taken him right there, pushed his cock head teasingly around and then into him. Primal, possessing, Garak would have shown him that he understood, he would have told him, he would have owned Bashir, possessed him. Bashir wouldn't have to pretend anything, he Garak would be in charge ...
The orgasm hit Bashir with the physical force of a tidal wave. His toes clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders knotted. He gasped for air, groaning, grunting, twitching. Hes body relaxed into the sheets, his legs beginning to shake and tremble with the force of his pleasure.
He laid on the sheets, in a dreamy, half-awake sweaty reverie, all the tensions of the past month draining out of him. He came out of his reverie when he realised that the puddle on his legs and stomach was getting cold, and the dildo was making a slow escape as aftershocks worked it out of him.
The best possible way to start a vacation.
In his shop, plain, simple Garak had not opened the doors on schedule. He had been about to, when something very interesting had happened. A comm channel had opened. Someone had called one, clearly accidentally, as the opening was followed by sounds that were clearly not intended to be
broadcast to anyone. And now Garak was sitting at his own desk, waiting for his erection to go away before he opened the door. Fortunately no one was beating down his door this morning.
How ... interesting. Now, he only had to decide what it was he wanted to do about it.