Work Text:
...one of Garak's hands on his neck, the other between his legs, cradling and stroking, his head tilted back, muscles taut, eyes shut, moans spurring the crescendo, hands clench the sheets, then slide up Garak’s arms as he leans closer for a kiss, breath stolen, and when released, he can’t help himself and bites down hard on Garak’s shoulder, eliciting a gasp, but the cease of activity, too distracting, so he rubs Garak’s neck with his cheek and smiles at what a dance this is...
*
...pressed up so close against Bashir, hands splayed over every possible inch of his back, pulling himself in impossibly nearer with each rush of bliss, writhing without conscious intent, forcing his chin against the curve of Bashir's neck, his shoulder, gasping when he grabs a handful of his hair, agonizing and arousing, quickening his breathing, echoed, then refracted like mirrors into infinity, at this moment so entwined with his lover, and so engrossed only in himself...