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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Julian stretched in the basket, basking under the heat lamp, a smile in the corners of his mouth. Garak didn't know if regular snakes were capable of smiling, but Julian certainly was, as he’d enthusiastically demonstrated for several hours.

“I must admit, Doctor,” said Garak, “that it brings me joy to share the experience of heat bathing with you.”

The basket rocked on Garak’s stomach as Julian settled deeper into it, yawning. His thin body had fit in perfectly, once the sewing supplies had been removed, and seemed nearly one with the woven shapes. Garak smiled, gently stroking the snake’s back.

“Seems you might be enjoying it even more than I.”

There was something about this whole experience that soothed his longing for Cardassia somewhat. He was not a snake, Julian wasn't a Cardassian, yet it felt like they'd reached a strange middlepoint, here, under the warmth.

“I’m afraid I must leave you to it,” said Garak, regretful, “Otherwise I’ll miss dinner entirely. Terribly unhealthy, I’m sure you agree.”

Very carefully he moved the basket off him and onto the bed, reaiming the lamp once he was up, “And you, my dear, need to eat as well.”

The computer had given him a list of acceptable snake cuisine, many of which had made his brow ridge rise. What he required wasn’t in the replicator and so Garak had been forced to rely on another source. He picked up the box with some disdain; Quark rarely dared to scam him, smart as he was in many ways, but convincing him to sent over the desired product had cost cold hard latinum. Lots of it, in fact. Garak intended to take the bill to Sisko, and politely explain that the modest income of a tailor ought not to be spent on feeding the officers of a socialist military force.

He ordered himself a simple bowl of soup, balancing it and the special delivery on his arm. Clumsily punched air holes littered the lid, which jumped as the content attempted to punch himself free. The rattle of cardboard woke Julian from his cozy slumber, and he watched Garak reached into the box with what looked like suspicion of the snake kind.

The thing squirmed and squeaked as Garak snatched it by the tail and yanked, dropping it in front of Julian where it trembled, frozen still in fear.

Julian recoiled, hissing sharply.

“I'm sorry,” said Garak, “but this is what you're supposed to be eating now.”

Julian’s flat nose rose up in a silent huff of refusal. Realizing his moment had come, the rodent lunged off the bed, stringy tail quivering as it went. Despite feeling a bit of relief for the poor fellow, Garak turned an accusing brow at Julian.

“Your dinner is escaping.” He said, eyes wide to convey his displeasure. Such trouble he’d gone through to acquire the creature, only for Julian to be childish.

His warning went ignored, of course. Julian’s head remained pettily turned, body coiled so it gave off the feeling of crossed arms. Little clicking sounds came from the fleeing Earth rodent, its tiny paws scuttling as fast as they could over the floor. Garak watched it disappear under the dresser with a barely held in sigh. He'd have to ask Odo to come and catch it later.

While he'd been distracted, Julian had slithered over to bedside table, toward the soup bowl. His lightning quick tongue shot out to have a taste, and then in went half of his head, cheeks growing round from the great big gulps of the spicy soup. Just as soon it all returned to the bowl, the vomit as orange as it had been while goin in. Julian coughed miserably, wrapped tight around himself. Garak let out a sigh.

“I did tell you.” He said, and returned the ruined soup to the replicator. He came back with a new bowl containing water, and another smaller plate, planting both in front of Julian.

“Will this do?” Julian didn't even look, head hid under his tail. Garak hesitated, then went in to pet right above the eyes, trying to console, “It's replicated. Just like all the terrible food we eat at lunch. Here,” He pushed the water forward, "Have some water at least."

Green flashed behind the tail. Julian peeked into the bowl, looking at his reflection a moment then dipped in to drink, much slower now. Nothing burst back out, and the sips became hungrier, a glance thrown at the other plate in between gulps. Garak pushed that plate forward as well. Julian gave it a cautious sniff, and snapped his jaws around a slice of meat. He swallowed it whole, visibly brightening, and went for another one, gobbling it up in one go.

A fresh serving of soup in hand, Garak sat into a chair, observing Julian’s savage table manners from afar with a mix of horror and intrigue. It looked like the slim snake was growing fatter with each piece, already rather plump after only a moment of dining.

The comm let a chirp.

“Dax to Garak.” said the rough voice of Jadzia. Garak’s set his bowl down, brows quirked; some answers at last?

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.”

“Good?” she laughed, “I like that attitude. What’s our little reptile up to?”

“Having dinner he's unlikely to forget.” Garak glanced at the plate, close to half empty. “Any news on the possible causes for this unusual situation?”

Jadzia sighed wearily.

“Not really. I did check the readings we took and it seems all of him is in the snake body, just drastically shrunk.” Garak could hear her smile, “In fact, we could probably return him to the right size. He'd still be a snake, only bigger.”

“Let's keep him manageable.”

“If you say so.” She sighed again. “Tell him I said hi, and that we’re doing everything we can to fix this.”

“Of course, though I’m sure he knows.”

Jadzia paused for a second, then spoke with warmth.

“Thank you for looking after him, Garak.”

“It is no trouble,” Garak lowered his voice, conscious of little snake ears, “Besides, he’d do the same for me.”

There was faint laugh of agreement before the comm went silent.

“Not exactly the news I hoped.” Garak smiled, turning to the bed, “But who knows, maybe you’ll be up and walking before—”  

The plate was empty. So was the basket.

“Julian?” Garak hurried to the bed, tossed away the pillows, looked under the bed, “Julian! Get back here at once- Hhhgg!”

Once more he felt the unsettling shivers of something slithery. Julian slid up the scales of his leg and chest, clumsier than before due to the heavy meal, and popped out of his collar with a shake of head and slips of tongue. Garak glowered down at the innocent little face, fixing his collar to cover any darkening scales; Quite the voyeuristic worm Julian was turning out to be.

Then came the kisses. At first the they’d had been gentle, heart warming in their sweetness. Now it was like a being pummeled with a blunt spear, and a very incessant one at that. Garak tilted his head back, to shield himself from the worst of sharp snout jabs to his chin and cheek.

“Must you be so violent?” He muttered, and pulled the snake out of his shirt, gently holding it at arm’s length, well away from striking distance. Garak looked right into the glimmering gaze, intending to scold.

“I’m very displeased with you, my dear,” He said. The tongue slid out slowly, the show of disrespect evident and intended. Garak rolled his eyes; a child in size and mind.

“Is there something you want?” To his surprise Julian nodded and yanked his head toward the door.

“You wish to go out?” Garak's brow furrowed. “I’m not sure that’s wise. The lieutenant will make a trophy out of me if something happens to you.”

Again Julian threw his head back toward the door, vigorously wriggling in Garak’s grip. He nearly slipped from the too gentle grasp and Garak yelped, quickly pulling the pest against his chest to safety.

“Very well,” He promised, “but you must stay put.”

Immeaditaly Julian calmed and happily wrapped around his left hand while Garak wagged a finger with his right, ”No adventuring, in or outside my clothes.”

No nod or hiss of promise came, the snake’s nose still and pointed forward like a compass.

Following Julian’s instructions meant they weren’t exactly speeding through the corridors; At every turn and door Garak had to wait for the arrow like head to point them in the right direction or suffer spiteful spitting and hissing if he understood wrong. Insufferable, but the matter felt urgent to Julian, sharp eyes dead set in focus, tongue slipping out to taste the air every few seconds, as if searching. After awhile of wandering, Garak realized the route was quite familiar.

“Are you taking me to your quarters?” He received a curt nod for an answer. Now knowing where to head, Garak sped up his pace, Julian’s head bouncing with each step.

No one seemed to be around when they arrived at Julian’s door. Supposedly there'd been no need for guard once security had checked the rooms, as Garak assumed Odo had done the moment of Julian's disappearance. But why make him come here? Was it so uncomfortable in his quarters that Julian had felt the need to leave? Perhaps it was the rodent. Or maybe Julian just wanted something of his for comfort, like that stuffed toy he held so dear.

Impatient, Julian stretched toward the door, and hissed, more vicious than before. Garak went to open it, to no avail; Locked, of course.

He placed Julian on his shoulder, making only a small disgruntled sound when the snake once again dived into his sleeve, curving back so only his nose peeked out. Julian’s apprehension puzzled him, but Garak let it be for the moment  and went to work, discreetly adjusting the lock settings. Easy enough, as he’d done it before.

One last click and the door opened. A soft yellow glow came from deep within, weakly flickering few steps from the doorstep. Suddenly tense, Garak took a cautious look into the dark room; the light source was at the far end, in the bedroom. Julian’s body quivered against him, small hisses of warning tickling his ear. He ran finger over the snout.

"Seems like you have visitors, My dear," He said quietly, "I'm terribly sorry for not realizing. But worry not," With a smile, Garak stuck a hand down his trousers, feeling for the small hidden holster. It could hold only a very small phaser, hopefully enough to keep them alive. He pointed it inside, "I've brought a gift. You knew that, of course, from all that exploring you did."

Julian's tongue brushed a neck ridge. Silent, Garak walked in. The door shut behind them and Garak slipped into the shadows, staying by the wall as he snuck into the bedroom, weapon steady in his hand.

The bed was gone. In its place dozens of tall candles burned, surrounding a burgundy divan. On it lounged a man, half of his face concealed by an ominous white mask, a stuffed toy animal held high up in his hand. Garak aimed. The man turned his head.

"Oh." He said. "It's you."

Chapter Text

The man took sip straight from a bottle. Curious, as Garak had not seen the wine until now. Kukalaka ended under up his arm, the visible distress in its button eyes making Julian's tail sharply swish in Garak's sleeve.

“I do beg your pardon,” said Garak, phaser pointed to the man’s chest, “but have we met before?”

“Not talking to you, lizzie.” He stuck his tongue out and gagged, “Blah! This wine is terrible.” Despite the disgust, he took another swig.

Garak didn't like this man. Neither did Julian, going by the seething hisses. His clothes alone were tasteless; old Earth fashion, the kind Garak only recognized because of the historical holoprogram of a poetry reading Julian had taken him to. Byron wasn’t much of a poet, and even less of a dresser. Still the white mask donned by this strange man managed to somehow be tackier than the turban.

Garak waited for the man to say something, forced to watch him down several glasses worth of wine in doing so. Minutes passed. One long burp made Garak roll his eyes and cock his weapon.

“Could we move this along?”

The man paid him no mind, shaking drops out of the empty bottle with a miserable frown. To Garak’s horror, he tossed the glass bottle carelessly aside, headed to break against a wall. It didn’t shatter. Instead to a small mammal fell on its feet on the floor and grinned at Garak, appropriately sized cymbals in its paws. It screeched and ran out, banging an unpleasant beat. Garak blinked and shot a questioning glance at Julian. The snake flicked his tongue in the way of a shrug.

Snap of fingers brought Garak’s attention back to the stranger; a new bottle of wine went to his lips, the half hidden face twisting in a grimace.

“Bitter. Like his black heart.” Now a glass appeared in his hand, and he spit the wine in it, swirling, “Isn't love despicable .”

The scales of Garak’s neck to itched in warning; unpredictable foes were the most dangerous and this… Being , was unlike anything he’d faced.  Best to tread carefully, for Julian’s sake.

“Certainly it can be,” He said eventually, “although in my experience, terribly rewarding as well.”

The man sneered.

“Ugh, of course you're useless. Just like him,” He pointed the bottle at Julian, “Bouncing about, like a puppy.”

Julian hissed, tongue flapping. The man hissed back, louder, his forked tongue much, much longer.

“You should be grateful,” said the man, glaring at Julian, “Made it to third base, all because of moi .” He scoffed. “Seems your cold-blooded lover has more warmth in him than that cruel, heartless wench of a Frenchman.”

The word lover sent a flare through Garak’s chest, and he swallowed, trying not to feel the disappointment over the misunderstanding.

“I do hate to interrupt,” He lied, “but what are you talking about?”

“Didn't you listen? L’Amour! Rakkaus! Любить! This horrendous organ,” He tapped his chest with a finger, “That causes nothing but unspeakable agony!”

Hand over his eyes, the man threw himself on the divan, wailing.

“Oh, Mon Capitaine ! Have you no soul?”

Garak grew tired, of the noise and dramatics. Such behaviour, from a grown man no less! Despite much heartache, he’d never succumbed to anything like it, dignified son of Cardassia as he was.

“I sympathize with your dilemma,” said Garak with patience he did not have, and pointed to the little snake head on his shoulder, ”But would it be correct to say you caused Doctor Bashir to become this?”

Blaring sound shattered through the room. Garak recoiled, hands on his ears as the man played the enormous instrument that a moment ago had been a bookcase. Kukalaka was perched on top of it, the tremors moving him toward the edge with every violent strike on the keys.

“Curse you!” yelled the man, barely loud enough to counter the ‘music’, “I’m never going back! Never! See how you like that, hm!” The brass pipes wailed, “Won’t be so easy to go back in time to look at old pots on your own!”

He slammed his hands on the keys three times. Each hit bounced Kukalaka closer to the edge, and on the last chord the bear tipped over, loose limbs spread uselessly as he fell. A whip like swish by his neck made Garak cry out; like a flappy arrow, Julian hurled through the air, jaws wide, and sunk his teeth into the stuffed stomach. He splatted against the floor, and for a heart stopping second Garak was certain the Doctor had flung himself into an early, embarrassing grave.

The snake rolled over, unharmed, and with his head held high slithered back to Garak, Kukalaka securely in his mouth. Garak took the bear and stuffed it into his shirt while Julian curled on his palm, stretching himself tall to spit at the cause of all the shenanigans; The man was still behind the horrendous organ, disrespecting the very concept of music, uncaring of their presence. Garak squared his shoulders.

Enough of this.

He set the phaser to max, aimed for the chest and without a blink, fired. Blessed silence fell, the mask flying off with a pang as the man crashed to the floor, gasping and groaning.

“Ow!” Looking at Garak with hurt, the man shook his head, hand on his smoking chest, “Are you all mad on this station? One punches, the other shoots.”

“Change him back.”

“No!” The man sniffed. “He offended me. I was in pain, heartbroken, when I saw an insufferable human in looove and enjoying it.”

In a blink he had vanished from the floor, to stand before Garak, tapping the phaser.

“Frankly I’d be aiming that phaser to the one who took the photo." The man tutted, "Terrible lighting, did you no favours.”

Snakes didn’t blush, of that Garak was certain. Instead Julian curled back, the slow coil of his body hiding him from Garak’s scrutiny.

“Anyway, it made me feel absolutely dreadful! I could hardly just stand by and let him go unpunished, the little weazel —  Oh!” For the first time the man sounded happy, clapping his hands together once then snapping his fingers, “Should’ve made him a weazel! Silly me.”

“Listen carefully,” Garak squeezed the trigger again, “While it seems you possess great powers, rest assured, I will cause you pain, should the Doctor not return to his former self within the next three minutes.”

The man frowned, looking Garak like he were a great idiot.

“Don't look at me,” He said,  “There’s only one hairless man in this endless world to whom I will bestow the sweet wine of my lips.”

On his palm, Julian hopped, jutting his snout to Garak’s chin, over and over, urgent.

Oh.

Doctor Bashir and kisses had been a much desired combinations since their first encounter. Never in his imaginings had the situation resembled the one they were in, however. Garak cleared his throat, took a deep breath and bent to lay a quick kiss on top of the snake's head.

Next thing he knew was flat on the floor, under the weight of a naked man. A very angry naked man.

Julian caught him by the collar and pinched his left shoulder ridge, painful enough to make Garak squawk.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Julian pinched again, voice a vicious hiss, “A live mouse!”

Chapter Text

“No sign of him.” O’Brien confirmed from the door. Sisko dismissed him with a nod then turned to Julian, standing straight and visibly annoyed next to Garak. Fully clad as well, since he'd found himself an uniform before they'd left his chaotic quarters. The images of him pulling them on repeated through Garak's head in delightful detail.

“You didn’t see him leave?”

“No, Sir.” Julian shrugged helplessly, “He vanished while I was…” Julian threw him a quick dirty look, ”Thanking, Mr. Garak for his help.”

Garak sniffed and rolled his shoulder. The thanking had left a vicious bruise there.

“Seems Q has moved on to plague someone else.” Sisko leaned back in his chair and rubbed a fist against his palm. “What a shame.”

“Good riddance.” mumbled Julian. “Though it wasn’t too bad until the mouse.” At the last word Garak received another steely glare, and a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“I was helping you!” He rubbed the freshly aching spot in his side, genuinely offended. “And now there’s a rodent in my quarters, doing who knows what!”

“Gentlemen!” Sisko’s hands came apart, a mix of irritation and amusement perfectly expressed in a single raised brow. With one hand he gestured at the door, voice low and quite final.

“Would you be so kind as to take this conversation someplace that isn’t my office.”

They left the Captain to shake his head, upset enough to avoid looking at each other as they entered Ops. Immediately Jadzia sauntered to Julian, hands behind her back.

“Soooo. Julian.” She threw an arm around Julian’s shoulders and squeezed, “Garak made it sound like you understood what he was saying.”

“Oh yes, I understood everything.” Julian's brow wrinkled in mock confusion while mischief, matching the entirety of Jadzia’s, sparkled in his eyes. “Did you think otherwise?”

Jadzia gave a tight, teethy grin and drew Julian into a tight embrace. 

“I’m keeping the photos.” She whispered, clapping Julian’s back as she winked at Garak.

To Garak’s surprise Julian suggested lunch at the Klingon restaurant, after making an entirely unnecessary point about the difference between gagh and mice. They made their way side by side, mostly silent. Julian clearly enjoyed having legs again, bouncing about every flight of stairs, not unlike a puppy. Despite enjoying the spectacle of the Doctor's unashamed joy and all things being sorted at last, Garak felt uneasy.

“Doctor?”

Julian did one more hop then turned around, slightly out of breath and smile bright. 

“Yes, Mr. Garak?”

“I’d like to discuss some of today’s events with you.”

They came to a staircase. Julian jumped over the last third of the steps and leaned on the rail to smugly wait while Garak descended with some dignity.

“All right.” said Julian. “I’ll forget about the mouse," He raised a finger, "on one condition.” 

Garak rolled his eyes, knowing by the terrible grin what his ridiculous beloved wished.

“You have to play through the Dragon Age program with me. All of it. Horns and all, which I dare say actually suit you. And then we can finally meet the Arishok, who is really a fascinating character —”

“Nevermind that pesky little creature!” Or the Artichoke, thought Garak and did not say, huffing instead as he stretched his neck to aim a severe stare at Julian, who had once been naive enough to actually be intimidated by such a look.

“I was hoping you’d explain the photograph.”

Julian stilled.

“What photograph?” He asked and blinked, long dark lashes fluttering like guilty little butterflies. A not at all convincing display of innocence, though terribly attractive, and thus excellent for distracting the enemy. Garak felt rather proud, somewhere behind the growing irritation. 

“The one this Q mentioned.”

Had it not been for the bright, wide panic in Julian's eyes, Garak might have left the conversation there, to save himself of a humiliating misunderstanding. But Julian’s throat moved in a slow, guilty gulp and with it Garak felt a small hope. 

“Well,” Julian began, “I, uhm… I was looking at the… photos that- that Jadzia had from Morn’s birthday and- I guess you must’ve been in one and- and that’s the one I happened to be looking at.”

Garak’s eyes narrowed. 

“I assure you there are no photos of me from that night, as I broke in the Lieutenant's files to make sure of it —  Doctor!”

Julian became a flurry of teal and black, running to more or less hid behind a pillar, entirely too narrow to even entertain the possibility of concealing him. Lingering animal instinct perhaps. Garak marched to the pillar and around it, mouth already opening to scold his young friend for the lack of tact. He ended up saying nothing, too taken back by the trembling sight of his Doctor; rigid back pushed to the wall, Julian’s chest and throat moved in a panicked rhythm, fearful eyes aimed at his feet. Julian knew he was there, flicking a quick look, swallowing some more then taking a deep breath.

“It was hard work, getting that photo.” He said quietly, arms coming to hug his stomach. He laughed then, a sweet, self-conscious sound, and shrugged. 

“It's like you can sense cameras.”

“Hence my interest.” Garak cleared his throat. Julian’s unexpected nerves were rubbing off on him, making him regret saying anything. So like him, to ruin things, just as they’d been getting back to normal.

“I’ll get rid of it.” Julian pinched between his brows, looking so small and sad that Garak nodded without meaning to, squeezing his hands to fists to keep them from reaching in comfort. The corner Julian’s lip twitched up in a wry smile.

“I knew you’d be upset.” He was nodding and laughed again, rubbed the back of his head. “And I took it anyway. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry and…” Julian pushed himself off the wall and past Garak, slurring in a monotone, “I’ll go do it now. There’s just the one, I promise.” 

No. No, no, this was not at all what Garak had wanted.

“And lunch?” His voice rushed out in panic, inadvertent venom laced within for no reason. Garak squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself. Julian shook his head quickly, smile not reaching his eyes.

“It’s alright. I’m not that hungry. Was well fed and all.” The joke fell flat. Julian didn’t even try to smile, turning to walk away with an awkward, tight nod. Garak, in his growing distress, didn’t say anything. He did, however, reach to grab Julian by his arm. Claws digging into the ridiculous uniform, he yanked, faced with Julian’s shocked and heartbreakingly sorrowful face.

“I’m not upset.” said Garak forcefully. His fingers still curled around Julian’s slender arm and without thinking he squeezed as he tried to find the words.

“It’s just that... I can't imagine what you'd do with a photo, when I’m more than happy to let you look at me whenever it suits you.”

Too much. Entirely too much. Garak dropped his hand and eyes, wishing for there to be an airlock for him to fling himself out of, or maybe an enraged Klingon to knock him into sweet oblivion, Tain to scold him, to shove him into the dark closet —  

“Took awhile, you know.” 

Such a soothing, warm voice Julian had. It seemed to wrap itself around Garak, sending waves of calm over him. He dared to look up, and saw Julian smiling, soft and tentative, cautious eyes observing from under the dark lashes. Garak’s tongue tied itself into a dry knot.

“I beg your pardon?” 

Julian kicked invisible dirt, half-shrugging.

“Figuring it out. All those kisses I gave you, and not once did you think I might like one as well.”

Sweat trickled down Garak’s neck; Did humans emit heat? Perhaps to catch prey?

“Rather rude, to presume.” said Garak, trying desperately to gulp down saliva that did not exist. Julian shrugged.

“True enough. But still,” Julian leaned closer and placed a warm, strong hand on Garak’s shoulder, breathing a whisper over his lips, “You owe me a few.”

How quickly Julian had composed himself. Lesser men would have faltered from the shock of it, or the threat of warm lips. Determined not to be less than worthy, Garak prevailed, voice steady even as his knees wobbled.

“Well, Cardassians don’t enjoy owing a debt. How about we return to my quarters, so we may discuss the payback in more detail —”

Tongue. Out in the open, where anyone could see, and Doctor Julian Bashir had the wonderful audacity to shove his —  

With a gasp, Julian pulled away, clutching Garak’s head between his hands.

“That one was free.” 

Garak's lips tingled. He fell against the pillar, hand on his thundering chest, spots of teal and black flashing in his vision. Dimly he became aware of a rough hand squeezing his, then pulling, his feet following in a trance while choked laughter rang around him, sending coils of snake like shivers down every limb.

Chapter Text

He’d waited till it was dark. Seemed safer that way.

Garak and Doctor Bashir had found their way back. What came with them was a lot of very loud, very horrible giggling and squealing for what felt for many torturous hours. He huddled in his hide out, under a dresser, passing the time by squeaking in misery, either at his tiny useless paws or the horrible long tail.  They probably wouldn’t have noticed if he’d left earlier, but the stomping was so loud and then they’d been loud and he’d had to put his little paws over his small ears, to be polite. But now it was quiet. Mostly. Some sounds still came from far up, the sheets of the bed rustling, hushed voices sighing. It wasn’t too scary, so he ran, all four legs pattering forward as fast he could go. He knew the vents had many small tubes to squeeze through, so he climbed up the leg of the bed, heart thunderous as he hurried toward the wall. The ledge on which he ran shifted and there came a yelp that sounded a bit like Doctor Bashir. He felt the swoosh of a sweeping hand, kept running and leapt off just in time, now on the wall, racing up, up, all the way to the ceiling. 

Wires and circuits looked much bigger, much scarier. His poor little heart hammered a beat so dire it felt as if it might slam itself through his chest, so he ran faster, tail clanking against the pipes. 

Another room. Maybe the bar already? He hanged off the edge, sniffing the air for danger (Quark), when a shattering shriek pierced his little body. With a squeak he fell and landed on a squishy white duvet, legs trembling, a deafening ring in his ears.

“Huh? Aww.” A warm hand scooped him up and stroked down his back with a finger, cooing gently, “Poor thing, did I scare you? I’m so sorry. You just surprised me, that’s all.” A breath of air caressed his ear, followed by lips pursed in a quick kiss. 

Leeta screamed again. He screamed with her, louder, staring at his hands, feeling his modest lobes, patting down his naked stomach —   

Naked. No clothes. Bare. Beneath him Leeta, mouth hanging open, arm clutched to her chest, holding up the covers. Hungry eyes raked over him as a slow grin lifted the corner of a lip and he gulped, while Leeta gave a deep, throaty gasp.

“Oh, Rom!”