Transposition
Part Four
Sisko frowned.
"And you really have no idea how you came to be here?"
"No, sir. Vone moment I vas standing in front of the Guardian - the next, I voke up in Mr Garak's shop. Vell, the back room of his shop, actually."
"I see." Sisko was unhappy about the situation, but not overly alarmed. It wasn't the first time people had been flung through space and time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He sighed.
"Very well. I'll have Lieutenant Dax debrief you - she'll be able to answer all your questions and tell you what you need to know about the station and the situation here. We'll look into the problem of returning you to your own time - but please understand that even if it does prove possible, it will not be immediate. I suggest you resign yourself to life aboard Deep Space 9 for the time being."
Sisko smiled as the door slid open, and Chekov turned - to stare at the lovely young woman standing there.
"Dax, this is Lieutenant Chekov..."
Dax had introduced him to a bewildering number of people. He remembered a few of the - apparently - more important ones: Dr Bashir, Odo the security chief (who'd regarded him with a cold intensity that was almost frightening), O'Brien (who grinned and told him to drop by his quarters so they could talk about the first Enterprise and its personnel - and the legendary Montgomery Scott in particular...), Major Kira, but the rest were a blur... His head was spinning by the time Dax ushered him into Quark's and ordered him a drink. (He'd asked for vodka. He'd ended up with synthale. He wasn't impressed.)
It gave him a chance to talk to the Lieutenant about Garak and his beautiful 'companion'. Dax had smiled.
"Ah, yes, Zaabon. Terribly sad. It rather surprised us that Garak - took him under his wing, so to speak." She grinned, her eyes twinkling. "He's very pretty, isn't he?"
"But... Do you know how Garak treats him? The tings he has to do?"
"Zaabon always seems happy enough."
"But no-vone should have to put up vith dat!"
Dax patted his shoulder. "Pavel, if Zaabon puts in a complaint, we'll investigate it. But until that happens, we can't interfere. Now, we need to see about quarters for you. If you like, we can put you close to Garak and Zaabon..?"
Chekov nodded. He wanted to stay close to the alien pair - just to keep an eye on Zaabon, he assured himself, trying to ignore the growing heat in his groin...
Much later he tapped on the door to Garak's quarters. There was no answer. He knocked again, a little more loudly, and the door slid open.
"Garak? Zaabon?"
The rooms were quiet - except for a low rustling, sighing sound he could hear in the bedroom. Frowning to himself, concerned that maybe Zaabon had been chained to the bed again, he crept to the door...
Chekov's mouth dropped open.
The light was dim, muted, a faint glow from hidden lamps around the room: starlight and refractions of the station's external beacons shone through the viewports. And on the cushions in front of the central port were Garak and Zaabon. Naked. Entirely wrapped up in each other...
In the gentle light the broad bands of scales that stretched from Garak's shoulderblades to meet in a deep V at the base of his spine shimmered a pale silver. His sleek black hair was disarrayed, one of Zaabon's elegant blue hands buried in the shining mass as the beautiful alien kissed the Cardassian deeply, sighing as he stroked down the quivering strong body, long fingers dancing over the scaled ridges that ran across the sturdy chest, following the curve of ribs, and from Garak's shoulders, down his sides and over his hips, to meet in a softer V above his ridged groin.
"...Elim..."
Garak moaned as he pulled Zaabon to him, covering his face with kisses, stroking very gently down his back, running lean fingers into the silky green hair. Zaabon pulled backwards a little, cupping the strong, corded face in his hands...
Chekov caught his breath. There was adoration in the big eyes, a look of such sheer love on the beautiful face that Chekov felt suddenly embarrassed, ashamed of watching. A feeling that was made more intense as Garak rolled on top of his companion and lifted his head to gaze into the golden eyes: the Cardassian's expression mirrored Zaabon's. Garak pressed the gentlest of kisses to the soft blue throat as Zaabon's hands grasped the ridges across his shoulders - then stiffened and glanced in the Russian's direction, his expression momentarily hardening. When he saw it was Chekov he smiled, albeit a little tightly.
"My dear Pavel. Do please join us."
"I did not mean to intrude..."
Zaabon smiled up at him. "It is all right, Pavel." He held out one hand. "Please..."
Torn, Chekov's gaze flicked between the lovers. Garak shifted to lie beside Zaabon and propped his chin on one hand, then beckoned to the young human. Hesitantly, the navigator walked to the port and sat on a cushion, as far from the pair as he could without actually sitting on the floor - which wasn't far. Garak gave him an amused smile.
"My dear, you're wearing entirely too many clothes. Do please make yourself - comfortable. Don't be alarmed, we don't bite. Well, not hard, any way."
Swallowing, Chekov slowly removed his clothing - somewhat hindered by Zaabon's hands stroking each area of pale skin as it was revealed. Garak chuckled.
"You are a delight, young Pavel."
As Chekov peeled off his outfit the alien reached to draw him down to lie on the cushions, then cupped his buttocks and pulled him close, kneading the firm flesh, nuzzling his neck. At Zaabon's back Garak nestled close, wrapping his arms around his lover and resting his hands on the Russian's shoulders - and they lay for long moments, shifting gently against each other, Chekov dazed, hardly able to believe what was happening. Then Zaabon gasped and arched slightly backwards as Garak moved against him, one hand releasing Chekov's shoulder to slide down between the blue and pale bodies, stroking gently as it moved lower, then suddenly and firmly wrapping both erections. Zaabon sighed, his head rolling back to rest against Garak's chin: Chekov bit back a cry and grabbed at the Cardassian's shoulders, letting go quickly as Garak winced and hissed through his teeth.
"I... I am sorry.... Vhat did I do?"
"Don't... worry about it now..." Garak caught his breath and smiled as he began to knead and press with the hand that was between the bodies before him, and Chekov forgot everything in the pleasure that overwhelmed him as he clung to Zaabon.
Minutes later, sprawled panting on the cushions in a tangle of arms and legs, Chekov and Zaabon glanced at Garak. The Cardassian was resting on one elbow, smiling down at the pair in a way that Chekov found alarmingly proprietary. The navigator's eyes strayed downwards, to Garak's groin. He gulped, paling, his eyes widening. The Cardassian was - unsatisfied...
Zaabon smiled and laid a hand against the Russian's face.
"Do not worry. It's my pleasure."
Though quite how anyone could find pleasure in taking that hard, ridged, scaled, bulky organ into their body was beyond Chekov's ability to imagine.
Nevertheless, Zaabon squirmed backwards, impaling himself on the rigid shaft with a sigh of satisfaction as Garak's arms cradled him close. Fascinated, Chekov watched as the Cardassian moved, slowly, rhythmically, pumping into the smooth blue body cuddled against his. Zaabon's eyes were closed, his expression one of quiet ecstasy as he raised his knee to make himself more accessible and reached back to pull Garak even closer. His mouth nipping and suckling at his lover's neck, Garak cupped one hand over the alien's groin, stroking and massaging, arousing him...
Chekov was hard again. He reached tentative fingers to Zaabon's hip, sliding his hand down to join with Garak's as together they gently teased the alien. Zaabon moaned and pulled Chekov closer, strong hands behind the Russian's thighs pulling his groin upwards, within reach of those beautiful soft blue lips...
... and Chekov suddenly found a long, cool, prehensile tongue wrapped around his shaft. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out and buried his hands in Zaabon's hair, unable to stop himself from thrusting into the cool, welcoming mouth.
Then he frowned. This was not altogether fair. Pausing for a moment, he glanced down the alien's body: Garak's hand was still dancing around Zaabon's erection - but, he smiled to himself, perhaps he might like a change...
Twisting himself awkwardly, Chekov shifted down the cushions until his mouth was level with the alien's groin, then firmly moved Garak's hand out of the way and took the cool blue shaft into his own mouth.
Startled, Zaabon nearly bit the Russian, but caught himself just in time, and Chekov felt it as a series of highly stimulating little nips along his length. He sighed and began to suck, moving his head back and forwards and circling the head with his tongue as Zaabon whimpered and redoubled his own efforts. And - greatly daring - the Russian slid one hand around to cup Garak's buttock, distantly intrigued by the strange, half-leathery, half-silky texture of Cardassian skin, while the other hand pressed against the base of Garak's erection as it slid in and out of Zaabon's body. Garak shivered and buried a hand in the Russian's thick hair, gasping against his lover's neck.
Aroused as all three were, it was still a blissful ten minutes before Garak finally relinquished control, every muscle tightening as he pulsed inside his lover. Overcome, Zaabon thrust one last time into Chekov's mouth and came, simultaneously taking the Russian's shaft deep into his throat and wrapping his tongue around the base as Chekov climaxed.
Panting, they lay quietly for a minute or two, Chekov fascinated by the savoury-sweet taste in his mouth and slightly sore where Zaabon, carried away by the situation, had been a little over-enthusiastic with his teeth. A gentle tug on his leg made him look up towards the alien's face: Zaabon was beaming at him, trying to make him turn around. Smiling, Chekov twisted again and pulled himself up to lie looking into the beautiful face.
Vye bogeh... That had been... Chekov didn't have the words. Sighing, he nestled closer, wrapping one arm over Zaabon's shoulder to cup Garak's face. The Cardassian regarded him curiously for a moment, then smiled.
"You are a being of many surprises, my dear Pavel."
Chekov beamed at him, his eyes slowly closing as exhaustion overwhelmed him. As he fell asleep, he felt Zaabon's cool fingers trailing across his face...
Chekov stretched and wriggled, yawning as he surfaced from sleep. He was lying on something very comfortable, covered by something silky, and with a cool, smooth body cuddled against his back. He sighed happily, turned over and wrapped his arms around... Zaabon?
He blinked and frowned. Vhat...?
Then he remembered the previous evening. And tried to feel guilty. And failed dismally. Not that he particularly cared, given how marvellous he felt right now...
Half-open golden eyes were smiling at him. Zaabon cupped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him forward, placing a gentle kiss against his lips.
"Hello Pavel. Did you sleep well?"
Chekov grinned and pulled the alien into a much more serious kiss.
Two minutes later, when they pulled apart, gasping for breath, Chekov was so hard it hurt - and had already felt that his bed-mate was in much the same state. Zaabon lay back, his arms stretched above his head, eyes half-closed, expression smouldering, and Chekov - throwing all caution, upbringing, unease and uncertainty to whatever solar winds might be passing - rolled on top of him, thrusting into the smooth body and, worming one hand between them, grasping the heavy blue shaft hard as Zaabon gasped and began to move with him....
"Ohhhhhhh..."
Chekov lay still, warm, quivering and happy, half on top of Zaabon, who was lightly scratching up and down the Russian's pale back.
"It was a lovely way to wake up, Pavel. Perhaps we could do it again?"
"Is fine by me!" Chekov raised his head from Zaabon's chest and frowned, looking around the room. "Vhere is Garak? And how," he added, his gaze alighting on the cushions at the viewport, "did I end up in the bed?"
"Garak carried us here: he thought we'd all be more comfortable than on the floor. And he has an important commission to finish. He left early."
Chekov nodded, absently. For the last few minutes a familiar and very welcome smell had been invading his nostrils: he now sniffed and grinned.
"I can smell - coffee!"
Zaabon nodded, gesturing to the side of the bed, and Chekov raised his head to look. There, on a low table, was a tray with a pot of coffee, another of some beverage he didn't recognise, a bowl of assorted fruit, and a plate of something that looked suspiciously like kulich. He glanced at Zaabon, eyes wide and questioning. The alien shrugged one shoulder.
"Breakfast. Garak makes it before he goes, and leaves it ready for when I waken."
Chekov reached to pour himself a coffee - and Zaabon a cup of whatever the other herb-scented beverage was - then helped himself to a sunapple. Silently wondering which was the real Garak: the dominating being who'd fettered and forced Zaabon that first time, or the gentle, thoughtful man who'd put them both to bed and left breakfast ready for them...
© 2001 (September) Joules Taylor Part Five
