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Star Trek - DS9: The Delightful Education Of Julian Bashir Part 5
by The Phantom (MF,F-dom,bond)

She felt icy metal at her own back and his fists at her neck and realized
that she had been backed into the headboard, pressed into it as Julian
pressed into her. At first, she tried to push him away, her hands at his
driving hips, but then told herself -- He is yet in his bonds. He is yet
bound. Her head fell back, and his mouth was at her neck, then her shoulder.
I am not breaking training, his or mine. He is bound. His hands grasped
her hair firmly, tightly; she could not move her head. He is yet bound,
she told herself again. He is still in his bonds. She felt the pounding
as he drove himself into her, wildly. Opening her eyes, she saw him --
eyes closed, jaw clenched, his body shining and taut as wire, unreasoning,
unthinking, and realized the horror she was allowing to occur, the damage
she was doing to him. Firmly, she placed her hands against his hips to hold
them away from her, hold them still, but such was his energy that he easily
overpowered her with his wild thrusting. "Doctor," she whispered but he did
not hear. The only response was a sound low in his throat as he buried his
face in her damp hair, a sound halfway between moan and howl.

His thrusting continued, and she realized that she had to stop him now,
before his training was ruined forever, before his wild impatience to unite
with her overrode his tenuous training in control. "Doctor!" she cried,
and this time got a wordless inarticulate reply. She finally grasped his
pounding hips with a grip of iron that took all her strength, stilling them
completely. For the first time since the initiatory lesson, she felt him
seriously struggling against her, pushing with all his might to overcome
her hands and drive into her harder and further. His eyes were wild and
unreasoning as he looked at her; were he coherent they might have been
incredulous. As it was, he could only stare at her, fighting her hands,
tightening his embrace around her, trying with everything he had to be
inside her again. After a time, he found his voice.

"Lady . . . " It was urgent, its inherent softness obliterated by his mad
desire. "Please, Lady, no . . . " The words came faster, tumbling out.
"Please . . . please let me be inside you again . . ." Panic began to
surface. "Please!" he cried and began fighting her strong hands again,
pushing his hips forward as his body strained to be close to hers. "Lady,
please . . . " he begged. She shook her head.

"Not like this." Her voice was a whisper, edged with her own frustration
and desire, and anger at herself.

"But Lady, why?" was all he could ask, all he could plead. His fists became
ironlike rocks.

"Doctor, I can't!" she hissed. "I already nearly destroyed your training
with my stupidity. I've nearly thrown away all my own training because of
my own shortsighted desire for you." She paused to get her own breath back,
fighting her own wanting, wanting that she hadn't felt since she had
completed her training as teacher. "I can't let that happen!" His skin
was slick and wet; one more thrust would wrench his hips out of her hands,
and he would be in her again. She tightened her grip on him until her nails
dug into his soft skin. "Doctor, I have my vows to think of . . . "

"I want you," he whispered back to her, his eyes roving over her face, his
mouth closing on hers until she felt his breath. "I just want you . . . "

"You are here to learn control," she replied. "This," she nearly waved to
indicate both of them until she remembered that she dare not move her hands,
"is not control . . . "

"But Lady," and his voice dropped until she felt she would melt from its
sensuous intensity, "I don't want control right now . . . " He ran his mouth
over her neck, so lightly and exquisitely that her hair began to stand on
end. She felt his tongue at her throat, at her pulse, and shivered. "I want
you . . . "

"You'll have me, and I you," she told him. "But slowly, slowly." She
inhaled. "Please, Doctor. This is not as it should be."

"It should be . . . I should be . . . inside you, Lady." If she had thought
his eyes burned before, it was as nothing compared to the fire in them now.
"Forever."

Her heart convulsed. "Would you leave the Fleet, your position?" He was
silent at this. "Would you give up all that you have now for something you
do not understand? You do not know what a consort is, or does. You do not
know life on Ishtar, among my people. You barely know daily life on my ship,
Doctor!" Her voice nearly broke. "I cannot accept your fealty. Please do
not ask me again!" There was silence, and then --

"Must it be as consort?" he asked, and his defenselessness almost paralyzed
her. He lowered his eyes, and his lashes looked long enough to brush his
cheeks.

Her head shook once. "It must, with my vows. Teachers such as myself may
not bind themselves to a man unless it be as consort." She closed her eyes.
"And to be consort, you must leave the Fleet." He said nothing, only bowed
his head, nestling it against her shoulder. "I will be back, Doctor, my
beautiful pupil." She lifted one hand to clasp his dark head to herself.
"I will return to this station, I promise."

"How long?" he asked, after a painful silence.

"What with the independence on Bajor, the market for traders such as myself
has grown. Normally, I would only pass by here once in a lifetime. Now, it
may be as soon as four or five months."

Five months . . . ! It wasn't until she stroked his hair and toyed with its
waves, making a comforting shushing sound, that he realized he had spoken
aloud, and with all the despair he felt.

"Until then," she said gently, "we have the time we have, Doctor. Two more
hours." She kissed his head softly. "Let us make the most of them."

"I know . . . I know that I said this before," he began, "but, Lady, I'm
yours." His gentle lips caressed her cheek. "Yours."

"Then," she smiled, "let us resume the lesson . . . my lovely pupil." Again,
they kissed deeply, and the room was silent but for the sounds of their
mouths against one another. The scent of their desire hung heavily in the
fading candlelight as the taper finally burnt to its socket, leaving them
in darkness together for long moments, a darkness they shared in a simple
comforting embrace, saying and doing nothing, but merely sharing the
closeness of warm bodies, each feel- ing the other's rhythmic breathing.
Then, "Lamps on low," she said finally, managing to make it sound sensuous.
Immediately, the flame lamps rose from their slumber, casting shadows on the
walls and turning Julian's dark rich hair into a jet cap ringed by a halo of
gold. His face was in shadow, but his features were still highlighted by
shadows on shadows, sharp and smooth and beautiful. His Lady caught her
breath in amazement. One hand rose to his cheek, and he leaned into the
caress. His eyes were in shadow; all that she could see was the devotion
that shone from them, from out of their velvet depths. He turned his head,
placing his lips against her wrist until he could feel her pulse, rapid even
for one of her race. They drew together, led by the tether that had sprung
up between them, until they met in warmth and lost themselves, each in the
other.

Her hands moved at his hips, hands that had recently left nail marks in his
skin. They now slid gently over him, languidly sliding over the soft skin,
feeling the curves and textures of his body. They wandered to his waist,
his slender waist, then to his back and shoulders, now dry and velvetly. She
felt the muscles there moving under the skin as he lifted his arms -- still
bound -- around her and drew her even more tightly against him. Her mouth
once again found his pulse, and her tongue traced it out to behind his jaw.
Against her, he shivered. His hips moved forward, and she whispered only one
word to him: "Patience." She felt him nod.

Again, he entered her -- slowly, gently, with easy grace. Their bodies met,
and Julian understood her desire, her wish to keep this as it was. The
frantic grasping he had nearly given in to was as nothing compared to the
electric unity he felt now -- in each instant of this togetherness, there was
something to delight in, nothing to rush through. In each movement of hers
and his, there was a new sensation -- every part of her was a part to take
individually, in his mouth, his fingers, with his tongue, and experience. He
felt her doing the same thing to him, taking each part of him, the entire
surface of his body, and devoting long slow minutes to it. As she moved, he
was acutely aware of his body against hers, her legs around him, her breasts
pushed against his bare chest, their gentle softness and the strength of the
muscles underneath. Gently, he began to thrust back and forth, back and
forth. He could feel the excitement build in him, and he forced himself to
retain the slow, easy rhythm.

Patience, she had said. He looked into her eyes, large and tip-tilted and no
color he had ever seen before, and had no problem maintaining the languid
tempo. All of her was something to be treasured, and he would die rather
than rush any part of it. He would die rather than keep this time with his
Lady from lasting one minute longer than it might. It would not be forever,
but he would make it seem so, and with the discipline and control she had
taught him.

Again, her nails went down his back, but this time he did not start. Only a
softly voiced sigh broke between his lips, trembling against hers. His spine
arched, pushing his body yet harder into her own, and his head fell back as
far as the collar would allow. With electric sensitivity, he felt her arm
around his waist, holding him to herself, and her other hand against his
chest as she watched his supple body curve away from hers in the liquid
lamplight. Lazily, she leaned with him, drawing whirls and spirals with her
tongue against his chest. He was beginning to shine once again, the hot thin
sweat of wanting, and as she looked down at herself -- at her own breasts
rising and falling, at her hard stomach, at her hips joined to his -- she saw
that she was as well. Her eyes remained at their paired hips, and she could
just see the barest edge of him entering and pulling away slowly between her
muscular thighs, could just hear the faintest liquid sounds of friction
between their skins.

She looked up then, into his deep eyes, to see him watching her as she
watched. His arousal flared, and he pressed himself against her even more
firmly, all the while maintaining the same slow rhythm, the same lazy pace.
All the time in the universe . . . for the next two hours.

She buried her fingers in the dark waves of his hair and pulled his face
against hers, softly thrusting her tongue between his delicate lips.
Gradually, she began to mimic his rhythm inside her until they were
swallowing one another in time, in slow time. With a jolt, she realized
that this was the first time she had ever followed any man's lead, the
first time she had not directed action. The thought was rapidly chased
away, however, by the dizzying sensations she was drowning in. Maiden,
Mother, and Crone, she thought hazily, what a consort he would make.

He pulled away from her suddenly, stilling their undulations. His eyes were
closed. "Lady . . . " he trailed off, his gentle voice holding onto the
word.

"Control," she whispered back to him, fondling his jaw lovingly as she saw
his jet lashes fluttering. They were both silent for long agonizing moments.
Then, "Are you ready?" she asked him. He nodded.

"Yes . . . " he replied with sensuous sibilance. And he resumed, for a brief
time -- only a scant few minutes. He pulled away from her more urgently this
time, his jaw clenched.

Through trembling lips, he breathed, "Lady . . . I don't think . . ." His
eyes were wide, filled with despair and pleading. She caressed his soft
skin, his beautiful buttocks, with her gentle hands.

"Doctor," she replied, her voice feathery and light, filled with
understanding, "this is only your second lesson." She leaned forward and
kissed his cheek. "You have done far more . . . progressed further than I
would have imagined possible for a novice." He only swallowed at her words.

"But, I . . . " He broke off and a chill took him, making his slick body
stand out with goosebumps.

Her mouth moved against his skin. "You have pleased me, Doctor." She
paused. "More than any other pupil, or any other man." She took his hips
then, and pushed them against her own, rocking back and forth as she thrust
for him. "I give you this." Her rocking became more and more forceful, her
strong arms taking over for him, giving him what he meant to have, what he
deserved.

He shuddered under her hands, and gasped. Overcoming her own rhythm, his
body pressed into hers as the wave broke over him. Like iron, she felt him
slamming into her, saw him as he lost control finally -- as he must -- heard
his wonder and peaking pleasure expressed in his beautiful voice. Again,
his head was thrown back -- this time by a force beyond him, and his spine
whipped, throwing him into her over and over. She clasped him to her
fiercely, feeling his taut, slim body shuddering with the seizures that had
taken him, crashing into her with a strength which he did not normally
possess. She felt him driving into her as deeply as anyone had ever been,
filling her as she took him in, stretching her sacred gateway deliciously.
With sudden passion, she clutched at him, her arms tightening around his back
and she wished that he need never leave. Doctor, she thought silently, how
I wish you could remain in me . . . for all time. Nearly weeping, she buried
her face in the warm skin at his neck, moistened with his excitement, and
clasped his body to hers even harder.

* * *

"Here." She handed him his other uniform. "I took the liberty of retrieving
it from your quarters while you were sleeping."

He took it without a word. They had spent the last three quarters of an hour
in the warm spa, his head nestled against her chest, her arms cradling him
while the water lapped at them both and the synthesized breezes carried the
jasmine past their intertwined bodies.

Conversation had been sporadic. He had tried so hard to convince himself
that it would last forever, and had failed. And now, here she was, handing
him his Starfleet uniform, about to leave on a voyage that would take her
away from him for months, take her away. Closing his eyes, he recalled the
bloodwarm water, the feel of her wet skin under his cheek as he lay against
her, the feel of her body against his as she held him.

As he pulled on his uniform, his eyes found the bed, rumpled from his past
lesson. From the headboard, his collar still hung, limp and empty. Without
a word, his Lady walked to the bed, her body covered for the first time since
he had originally seen her in the infirmary -- years ago. Without a word,
she unlocked the ring that held the collar to the headboard, walked toward
Julian Bashir, and silently held it out to him. He took it as well.

"This should remain on board my vessel," she told him. "Custom." She took
his hands in hers. "But sometimes customs are meant to be broken." She
paused, regarding him. "It belongs with you. When I return . . . bring it
with you. Perhaps," she smiled wryly, "we may determine next time how it
fits me."

His eyes shot to her face, the wing brows raised in a question.

"There are, after all, other lessons to be taught, dear Doctor." Her hands
ran over his smooth cheeks. "Dear beautiful Doctor."

He attached his rank button to the collar of his uniform shirt and only
looked at her. Suddenly, on an impulse, he knelt before her, and his eyes --
those eyes that had touched her so deeply, been lately so filled with
excitement, with fire -- gazed up at her. He took her hands. "Lady," he
said, his voice filled with such measureless devotion, and he could not
continue. His gaze dropped.

Her hand touched his dark head gently. "I understand," she said to him, and,
after a moment's indecision, she knelt in front of him, faced him as an
equal. He moved to kiss her, but she put her hand against his chest, against
his uniformed chest, and stopped him. "Not without your bonds, Doctor," she
said sadly.

"I understand," he echoed, dropping his arm from around her waist. He held
the collar against himself like a talisman, clutching it. Together, they
rose.

"You're due in the infirmary in ten minutes," she told him.

"Yes."

"And I'm due to depart in ten minutes as well." She regarded the docking
plan on the viewer near the entrance to her ship. "There is a Vulcan ship
due to dock in this very place then, and I must be gone for them to do so."
She took him in her arms, then -- and again he felt the closeness, the unity,
he had felt while his body had been against hers, inside hers, touching
completely and not through awful clothing. They did not kiss.

After long minutes, they released one another. "I . . . " he began, but
trailed off.

"I know."

His hands tightened around the collar, still damp with his sweat. His legs
felt like lead as he walked toward the docking entrance, his Lady behind him.

"Five months," she said to him. "It will pass."

"Like five centuries." She shook her head.

"No. Your life will continue, Doctor. You will find things with which to
occupy your time. Dangers, adventures, the things you came here for." She
shrugged. "I . . . I will find opportunities, worlds for trading," a sly
smile, "and gambling halls for cheating." This brought the smile she longed
to see to his lips. "And when I return here, I will find you, and you me.
And the lessons will resume."

"Lady," he whispered, his voice colored with urgency as the bay door rolled
back, presenting the lonely and silent corridor to him. "I'm yours."

"I know," she replied and touched his face, his brow. She turned then, and
walked back into her ship. The entrance slid open, and she turned back to
see him standing in the airlock bay entrace, framed by the door, holding the
collar in his hands.

"Five months," she repeated.

"Five months." And the entrance closed over her, cutting her off from him
with a pain that was nearly concrete in its intensity. He stepped back from
the airlock as the door rolled back into place with formidable solidity. He
heard the faint clicks of the safeties loosing, then the rumble of her
engines. As he watched, the Ariad shot away from the docking ring, its aft
end glowing with the power of her warp drive. He would have stood there
longer, watching until her glowing ship, her presence, was gone from the sky,
but his duty to the station, his job, was once more present in his mind.
Checking a chrono set into the wall, he saw that he had two minutes until he
was due in the infirmary.

His fists tightened on the collar again, and he looked down at it in his
hands. Still shimmering blue and silver, it was yet damp. His eyes closed
in memory, and he swallowed. One last glance out the port was all he allowed
himself, and he turned away. His steps echoed in the silent corridor.

    

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