BWAHAHAHAHA

http://my.opera.com/Mathilda/albums/show.dml?id=81578

Rec: Ring Pull by Dee LOTRPS: OB/DM PG13ish

http://viscerate.com/efiction/viewstory.php?sid=61

LOTRPS: DM/EW: untitled narcotic fic.

title: untitled narcotic fic
fandom: lotrps
pair: ew/dm
rating: adult
warnings: drugs, sex
notes: for kissing_athelas just because. This...well. I thought I was just going to write something funny, but it didn't want to stay funny.

"And this guy. He had three of 'em."

"Three of what?"

"Them. The. Oh fuck." Elijah drops the lit nub between his knees and it disappears into the carpet.

"Lij," Dom says with half-hearted irritation and reaches over Elijah's bare knee to paw for it with one hand, glancing over the bony knee in question, then around it, between it and the coffee table, then over it again, and back to the screen where his guy is standing in a back alley with a laser scope sniper rifle waiting for Dom to stop fucking around and steal another pink Caddie. Lij starts to snicker.

Dom finds the dead roach under Elijah's heel after bodily lifting it off the floor. Elijah is laughing soundlessly, the only indication being a slight shaking all over him, that and his pink face turned purple in the light from the TV.

Dom looks at his friend with bared skepticism. "I thought you said you smoked before."

"I do," he says after a small wheeze. "But this isn't American pot. This is something else."

Dom just shakes his head, puts the tiny roach back between his lips and cocks his head to try to relight it. The tip glows and is quickly too hot so he pulls it away with his fingernails and winces on the exhale. "Wanker. It's all the same plant. I don't care where you are. You don't think people carry it all over the world and cross breed it?"

"So like people." Elijah's breath is piny and nice, and he's breathing it too close to Dominic, looking right at him for no reason. "Oh," he says, and his eyes refocus on Dom's face instead of a vague point near Dom's shoulder where they were. "So I was at that coffee place and there was a guy there that looked like my Dad. And he had three 'em."

"Three of what?" Lij is smiling kinda weird he thinks, but he also thinks he said that once before, or he just missed something again but that happens.

A sound punches through Dom's fog. A punching sound actually. Someone is being punched, and Dom smirks a little too, then stops. "Oh shit." Dom fumbles the playstation controller back into his hands upside down, then right side up, and shoots a couple of angular thugs that were beating him up in the alley. He takes their cash.

"My dad used to watch this show."

"What?" Dom says absently, trying to drag a guy out of an El Camino, and he realizes there was a bit of a lag there between the question and the answer. No. Wait. The other way around.

How did the answer come before the question?

"This show. He used to watch it. When I was a kid."

"Oh." Not important. Whatever it was he missed it. The El Camino drives off into the night. Dom is careful to obey the traffic laws, though it's difficult to turn that thing around those tight corners. And for some reason everyone else gets to drive on the wrong side of the road. Or maybe its the right side of the road here, cuz they're upside down.

"Dom are you peeing?"

Dom ignores this.

"Dom are you peeing?"

Dom turns his head briefly to his right because he suspects Elijah is peeing. He doesn't know why he thinks that, but he does. "No. Where?"

"Oh. You're beer."

"Shit."

The bottle has bumped over in the scuffle for the playstation controller or at any point thereafter. It is dribbling into a wet spot on the carpet. Dom picks it up and starts to slide across himself laughing. "I pee beer," he says and starts to suffocate laughing. Elijah seems to be in the same state, though belatedly. Dom takes a breath and catches Elijah's attention with a wide-eyed grin. "And I shit cakes of light!"

Elijah cackles and falls back on the sofa.

Dom looks at the puddle on the carpet and listens to Elijah's stuttering, ticking laughter behind him. Looks at his own hands. Everything is blue from the TV. He stands up and pulls his shorts down, (cock is blue, ha!) folds them neatly and places them over the blue carpet puddle, steps delicately onto it to soak it up. He hears Elijah sigh and breathe again finally, and looks back to see him sitting up again.

"You're naked."

Dom looks down at himself. "No 'm not."

"You have a shirt on."

"Yeah, and-" Oh.

Elijah starts to titter again, but then stops when Dom's cock twitches in front of him.
Dom sits back down on the couch next to Elijah and picks up his game controller. He looks at the screen, waits for his eyes to refocus, and finds that he is dead. "Shit."

"Fuck," says Elijah.

Dom looks his way and his eyes are freakish and huge, and for some reason he isn't laughing anymore. He's been laughing for twelve hours straight it seems. Why stop now? He follows his gaze back to himself and looks down. He is faintly surprised to see a hard cock between his legs. And doesn't that look pretty laying right there. He knows it is his own, but he's still surprised when it twitches again. Elijah is looking at him bug-eyed still, but fuck that. He doesn't have to explain himself. Three of them?...

Dom turns his body and leans back to lay his head on the arm of the sofa and swings one leg over Elijah's head which he follows with his (giant blue in blue spice addicted) eyes to lay behind him and takes his cock loosely in his hand. If Elijah wants to stay there, fine.

Elijah does stay. And so do his eyes. He is sitting there twisted, feet on the floor, one arm braced on the couch seat keeping his upper body turned and facing Dom down the couch. His left knee brushes Dom's, and brushes Dom's as his hand works. Elijah is breathing funny, or laughing? No, he's not smiling all gap-toothed and squinty, so the movement in his shoulders is breathing. Quick up and down. Faint whistle between his lips. Dom smirks.

Then Elijah is moving, slow as a rabbit. Slow as something. Like he's trying to move without Dom noticing, so, generously, he makes it easy on him and closes his eyes. He can still feel him moving, a little shift and pull here and there on the couch, disorienting, really, because the ground is moving under him.

"I feel the Earth, move, under my feet," he sings a moment and then stops because it hurts with his throat all hoarse and his neck bent back. Cock feels good though. Silky smooth in his hand, throbbing and pulsing comfortable little bubbles through his veins. Eventually he notices that Elijah isn't moving anymore and opens his eyes. Again it takes forever for them to sort out what they're seeing, but when the haze does clear - as much as can be expected - he sees pretty much what he was expecting to see. He's there with his cock in his hand, gently running it through it's daily routine. His legs are not in use, haphazardly left unattended to either side of Elijah's. He hadn't noticed when Elijah got there. But he can't feel his feet so much right now, which would explain why he didn't notice they were on either side of Elijah's bare hips. He runs a toe up and down one of them and thinks he'd quite like to feel that, but it's no good. Can't.

Elijah has a funny cock. Dom smirks a little but realizes that isn't the nicest thing to do and stops. It's really purple. But it's kind of dark and hard to make anything out so Dom reaches behind him and turns on a lamp. Now it's red. Elijah has an arm up over his head and his eyes are still bugging out watching Dom as he rubs himself with only three fingers. It's kind of a big cock. He wonders why the three fingers. Three of 'em.

"Mmm, nice," Dom hears himself murmur and snuggles down into the crook of the sofa. He's happy, his cock is happy. Elijah is happy.

Something warm and wet touches his cock and his hips writhe without him telling them to do so. Elijah is upon him, his cock dangling between his legs. He didn't even feel him move. Elijah does it again, dips down and licks his cock head. Dom makes a funny owlish sound of surprise and enjoyment and takes the curly head in his hands. He backs up, though, out of reach and sits on his heels, his teeshirt only covering half of his cock.

Dom smiles at him then, picks at his fingers by his side. "What. You shy now?"

"No."

"Do you want it?" he whispers.

Elijah doesn't answer except to swallow hard.

"Come on. Do you want to suck me or do you want me to fuck you?" Dom has to repeat that in his head to make sure it was correct.

Elijah's chest is going up and down fast now. He looks around the room for a second, takes Dom's half-dumped beer off the table and downs it.

Dom doesn't wait for an answer, he knows what he wants anyway. He'll take what he can get but if he gets to decide, then. Dom rolls himself off the couch and pads dazedly to his bedroom. He's back in a moment and Elijah has barely moved, just slid further into his corner of the couch, curled up. Dom squeezes a gob of lube in his hand as he approaches and palms it over his cock, hums in pleasure. The tube goes to the table next to his beer and the playstation controller, and he knee-walks over to Elijah who has the biggest fucking eyes in the world.

"Um," he says, and tries to push himself up to face Dom, his ankles crossed in front of him.

"C'mere."

"Um," he says again.

"Come on."

Dom takes his knees away from his body and insinuates himself there against him. Elijah is still breathing like a race horse - or is that peeing - he laughs out loud again, has to lean his head on Elijah's shoulder a moment because the laugh is threatening to bowl him over, and Elijah is fighting him. He's pushing like he doesn't understand what Dom is trying to do with him, just get his knees up. Elijah makes a weird sound like a whine and defeats Dom. He gets his legs down under them both so Dom is laying on top of him. Elijah's arms go up around his shoulders and pull Dom down to him tightly, so tight Dom can't push himself back up. His mouth is near Dom's ear and he can hear the breath rushing in and out of him. Then he whispers. "I don't think I'm high anymore."

Dom reaches down with his wet hand and takes Elijah's cock in hand, rubs his own against him, takes both of them in hand the best he can and grinds forward. Elijah makes a funny noise and Dom feels his cock pulse and then eject warmth into his palm. He makes a few high-pitched sounds as he comes and then lays there silently below Dominic.

Dom lays there too and breathes. He can't move for the fierce grip Elijah has on him, doesn't have the motivation to try suddenly. Can hear and feel Elijah's rabbity heartbeat through his teeshirt.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out on a shaky sigh that smells sweet and smoky. Dom gets the impression he has missed something again, like before.

"You never kissed me," Elijah says.

ST:DS9 G/B Black Bottle Chapter 7: A New Day

Title: Black Bottle Chapter 7: A New Day

Fandom: ST:DS9

Pairing: Garak/BAshir

Rating: Extremely adult

Warnigns: BDSM, still light for now, but not for long.

Summ: Just to recap, Something happened to the boys a few weeks ago and it sparked off their relationship, finally, now that they've been tiptoeing around it for 6 bloody years. Waiting until the moment was right has been important, especially to Garak because of some unique things that happen to a Cardassian in love, and because Julian is completely inexperienced in the type of relationship they are entering. While trying to juggle hormones and lust and a stubborn Cardassian and meddling friends, Julian is also hounded by Jadzia, who just wants a few minutes of his time, but succeeds only in making Julian doubt himself and the path he is choosing. This chapter will see their waiting and caution pay off finally. Don't get too comfortable though. The angst starts again in Chapter 8.

The computer chimes and Elim turns and looks groggily to the clock on the nightstand. He can't read it. Whatever it says it is clearly an ungodly hour to be woken by an unfeeling computer. Though he can't be disgruntled for long. The warm lump that has moved from his hip to slung halfway across his chest is enough to make him smile and grumble a little purr as his sleepy fingers travel over it, uncoordinated but appreciative of the stroke of smooth skin beneath them. Julian stirs when the computer chimes again. He doesn't so much stir really as squirm in a syrupy way over him which Elim is also not going to complain about. That squirm grinds warm hairy legs against his and soft hairless groin against his hip. A moment in drowsy darkness and the computer chimes once more. Elim groans lightly. "Are you really getting up this early?" Julian tries to nod but more just sort of rubs his face on Elim's chest in affirmation. "You said you had today off too."

"I do," he says and his jaw has to open upwards because the lower half has come to rest on Garak's immovable sternum. "But I have the medical staff meeting this morning. And then the senior staff meeting."

"And then will you be finished?"

"Yes. Until the ceremony this afternoon."

Elim glowers internally but lets it go. "What ceremony?"

"Sisko. Getting the Christopher Pike medal," he mumbles.

Garak yawns. He can't recall Sisko doing anything particularly fantastic lately, nothing Starfleet should appreciate anyway. "Really? What for?"

"Bravery, valor, some other stuff," Julian slurs, eyes still closed and face lax. Garak chuckles and the computer chimes at them again, this time with a little more insistence in its bleat. So Garak lifts himself up and scoops Julian under his knees and arms. Julian groans at being disturbed so forcefully and bodily, a little petulant but too tired to do anything about it. "What are you doing?" he grumbles sloppily and his eyes finally crack open.

"Come along. Time for you to get up."

"I know. I'm up."

Garak takes the slightly limp man into the bathroom, turns them both carefully to point Julian's feet into the shower, and uses the doctor's conveniently aligned big toe to touch the button. The water starts and Garak plants him in front of it. He makes a noise of disgruntled protest again and immediately fumbles with the temperature controls. The default setting is a mere 13 degrees.

Garak takes a towel from the rack and wipes down his wet arms and says, "Time for you to get up and for me to go back to bed." He smiles at Julian huddled under the spray. Julian looks back at him with a disbelieving frown.

"You wouldn't."

Garak slides the shower door shut.

......

Julian showers quickly, feeling a momentary return of the rush of excitement he has been riding for days, then emerges fresh and steamy to the bedroom where Garak has switched off the automatic daylights and is buried beneath the covers. Julian has only his clothes from two days ago to wear; the trousers and the loose white shirt Garak let him borrow, though they aught to be clean. Not like he spent much of the past two days wearing them. At any rate he'll have to go back to his quarters to get a uniform before the senior staff meeting, but Friday's clothes would be fine for now.

So the only real obstacle to getting him out the door and on his way to the infirmary is the magnetic power of a warm, half-occupied bed on his sleepy body. As he pulls Garak's white shirt on, a drowsy blue eye peeks from a crack in the bedclothes. Elim doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to do anything more than look at him. Julian's feet, still bare and free, sunken in the thick carpet, are not aware there is business to be done, work to be pursued, they are still naked like Elim, and they carry Julian to the bed again. His eyelids droop as he slithers beneath the covers and Elim accepts him into heavy arms.

Into his moist cocoon Julian snuggles, kissed and held, and Elim licks sweet dew from beneath his jaw from his recent shower. Julian feels himself fading, so quickly, so easily though his mind nags that he needs to be leaving, that he cannot fall asleep now, that he cannot afford to lie here because he will fall asleep, and at the same time his heart is yammering happiness and a gripping need to be here and nowhere else.

He is almost gone - it only takes a moment, and Garak smiles. Poor thing. "Come on," he mutters, then lifts his feet and starts pushing with them against Julian's hip, sliding him across the sheets. "I have things to do today that I don't want to as well." Julian groans pathetically and starts to slide out of bed under his own power. "The sooner we do our jobs the sooner we can take a nap."

Julian snuffles a laugh and sits on the bed feeling about as active and capable as a case of dead gagh. His shoes go on with difficulty, but that done, he is ready to go, and does, giving Elim's knee a squeeze as he gets up. He knows if he had put his head down low enough to kiss him he would be in the bed again, though that doesn't stop the pull on his heart and body as he tears himself away.

On his slow meandering walk through the corridors, empty, dim, and echoless this early in the morning, he yawns and tries to come up with a way to get a rachtajino without going to his quarters which are not on the way, and without going to the replimat, which is on the way, except that the rachtajino program in that replicator is corrupt and it always tastes a bit too much like clams.

It's really quite odd, though, he thinks, that he is going to the weekly meeting like he has done week after week for many many many weeks now, six years worth, looking for coffee and rubbing his eyes, after just spending the last day and a half in Elim Garak's bed. Julian stops in his tracks and a wave of heat washes over him. How life can just go on after something this big happens, he doesn't know. It's supposed to change everything isn't it? That may have been what he was expecting though he never put it into such stark words. You look forward to something so strongly, and it becomes a pivot point for your whole life for a time, as if it should all be down hill from here. He knows that isn't true. Your life, your emotions don't rest on a single plane teetering on a crux like in a novel. Still, somehow it's surprising that nothing has changed this morning. Julian sees his reflection in a shiny black console on the wall of the corridor. Well. He is definitely different. Strange civilian clothing, rumpled hair, puffy eyes, goofy smile. He looks like a hungover pirate.

Julian continues on.

Also surprising, he muses, is how differently he feels today from last night. He recalls last night being not the best of his life. He was so utterly disappointed, so embarrassed at his own naïveté. He isn't sure how Elim did it, but he feels absolved this morning. That doesn't usually happen with Julian's guilt. It tends to linger regardless of how much forgiveness others apply like a bruise treated with honey. Maybe it was stupid to have felt guilty in the first place. He blamed himself for everything that wasn't perfect about last night. Elim never did. He said he didn't have any expectations, and in one sense that was true, but really he must have. He expected Julian to have trouble and he did, because everyone does. You know better than that, Dummy. This decidedly falls under the category of things that must be learned, and not things that he should have an innate ability to do simply because he is an augment. It was not reasonable to think he'd be able to just do it. And why did he assume Elim would think that he should? Elim said he had no expectations to free him of that fear, not make it more important or more challenging for Julian to wow him. Maybe he already knew this by the time he woke up and that is why he feels better now. Wouldn't be the first time he solved a problem with sleep and dreaming.

He is pretty sure he dreamed about Elim's mouth on him last night.

Julian grins as he walks though there is no one but his reflection in the black consoles to see it, overcome with it again, just the realization that this is happening is astounding, exhilarating.

He spent the last day and a half in Garak's bed - and he's going to go straight back there as soon as all of this other stuff is done.

He strolls smiling into the infirmary a good five minutes late with a slightly less clammy than usual rachtajino in hand, and plants himself in his chair with a sigh. The rest of the staff stand in a rough circle around the room, around him, leaning against consoles and tables with their own sleepy eyes and coffee cups in hand, the same scene Julian has witnessed at every weekly meeting before this. The only difference is in the expressions on their faces, just a little altered, though maybe it is his imagination.

"Well," he says. "I am, completely, unprepared for this meeting. I usually work up a plan on Friday evening from the logs of the week before, but I never got around to it. I've got nothing. So. Let's just skip the part where I ramble on for an hour and go straight to you people. What would you like to discuss? I'm all ears."

Julian smiles at them and sips his coffee and no one says anything. He looks at Marcia expectantly. She always has something to say. When he looks at her though, he thinks that maybe he wasn't imagining the change on their faces, because she is giving him the eyebrow. Julian's smile skitters away and he self-consciously runs a hand through his hair to hopefully straighten it out a bit and pulls his shirt down to disguise the wrinkles. The eyebrow fades away and she swallows and just looks a little sea sick. Finally, Doctor Girani clears her throat and speaks.

"Well...ah...I have a concern that I wanted to bring up. Our female Vulcan patients, few though they are, have been asking for a particular type of treatment for skin abnormalities that we have not been able to provide. I wanted to get your input, Doctor, and see if we can't speak with someone on Vulcan about acquiring the technology."

The whole world didn't change over night, but maybe the shock wave did spill over the rim of Julian's cup just a little.

~*~

Garak begins tossing pink and fuscia and turquoise into crates without even the slightest regard for wrinkles or delicate sequins. The gratitude festival is in full swing outside. No matter that it's not technically over. Everyone who was going to buy something to wear to it has done so. He just wants them gone. He had nearly every last strip of taffeta packed away when his comm chimed and he had to groan as he rose from his knees to go to his computer.

"Ah! Garak, I was hoping you'd be in."

Alarms go off in Garak's head, his senses string tight and his nerves buzz suddenly and fiercely. This scaled face is not one he likes to see.

"I have some information for you."

Garak scowls and glances around him, waiting, expecting something, because this isn't quite right. It isn't that he dislikes the face. Any Cardassian face is a breath of beauty here when they are so seldom seen. But he never sees this face, only hears the words over encrypted messages or reads them written in code. He doesn't even know the face well, but the lazy nasal voice is unmistakable.

"Oh relax Garak. It isn't important enough to warrant using our formal channels."

Indeed. Garak can see Cardassia Prime behind Visid Omar in the screen. Just blurry background shapes of a window, a framed living cityscape, and the comforts of a Cardassian home. He feels a sort of rage he hasn't in a long time. This worm of man who enjoys the planet Garak has fought for his whole life has not even the decency to acknowledge Garak's vulnerability out here. If the information he wishes to give Garak is so devalued, why does he bother to transmit it? And why would he assume it would be acceptable to contact Garak in any other manner, much less speak of the fact that they have formal channels? Garak grits his teeth and still says nothing.

"I've heard from reliable sources that a certain someone was seen in the vicinity of Cardassia Prime recently," he says with jovial obliviousness.

Garak frowns hard. Visid doesn't continue, however. "Who," he says sharply.

"Who do you think?"

"Dukat."

Visid smiles a gaunt smile and nods once, respectfully.

"I've also heard he has gone stark raving mad."

"That isn't news."

"No, but there is nothing worse than having a crazed Cardassian drunk with power and bloodlust aiming a very large weapon in your direction is there?"

"A weapon?"

"Metaphorically speaking."

Garak glares. "What is your point Omar?"

"You might want to let your adoptive parents know that the neighbor's son has been giving you dirty looks. Sisko in particular, but who knows, he could just try getting you all in one shot. You're no favorite of his either."

Indeed.

"So you see, common knowledge, not guarded, but proprietary nonetheless."

"Yes. I do."

"Well I can see you're busy with your dresses, Garak. I'll leave you to it. It was nice seeing you again, my friend."

Visid is replaced by a black screen and Garak frowns at it. Hints and nothing more. Nothing he could even bring to Sisko. If Dukat really is back on Cardassia, it is doubtful he would have any influence left there, though privilege perhaps. Without the backing of the Cardassian military he could still be a nuisance, but a threat to the station? Not likely. Just the same, Garak makes a mental note to keep his nose to the wind. If that inglorious snake comes near he will know of it.

At some point today he must find time to 'make the rounds' among his last few remaining allies. If Dukat does reach the station bent on revenge, and if the rumours that trickle into the pint glasses at Quark's regarding the direction of the war have any truth to them either, a deadly concoction could be brewing here, and Garak has more than just himself to think about now.

Julian is uniformed and awake and grinning as he pads into the shop. The door opens letting in music and voices from outside, smells of food and Bajorans, and then slides closed again leaving only Julian. Hands behind his back, he strolls in looking mischievous at the very least, conspiratorial and cute. Garak finds himself disarmed, suddenly, in awe. Suddenly not even a taunting Cardassian pawn can keep him angry. Julian stops short of where Garak is standing, looks around a bit, just enough to be sure they are alone, and then advances, takes Garak's hands and gently guides him backwards around his crates of dresses and past the curtain into one of the tiny changing rooms. Garak chuckles as his knees hit the seat and he is forced down onto a small pile of forgotten clothing.

Julian scrabbles at the curtain behind him, closing it more or less and diving for Elim's face at the same time. He takes Elim's lips, smiling, licks them, bites them gently, tastes inside for his tongue and bites that too. Feels like it's been ages not hours since he last touched him. He's hard and heavy and he pulls Elim up to stand again, launches him against the wall this time so he can press against him, let him feel it. Garak insibilates when he does, sizzles and grips him by his shoulder and hip and presses him harder to his groin. He delves deeply into his mouth, then nibblesucks down his jaw and neck. Julian has to stifle a moan inside a quivering jaw, still aware of where they are, but barely caring.
This is, at the very best, extremely risky. No lock on the door, no door on the room, no room for misinterpretation, but, oh, the risks he would take for this. It seems Garak's is not the only appetite that has been whetted. Amazing what a little time and patience can produce, amazing the rewards. Elim smiles and tastes his warm-blooded lips, feeling the heat move down his front like warm honey dripping from their mouths and pooling in his belly. Julian is writhing against him absolutely without inhibition, kissing, licking at his neck ridges and between the scales, since he learned that trick, and that thing he keeps pressing into his hip - Garak wants that. He wants it a lot. Wants to kiss it. Wants to suck it. Then he laughs because in sixty seconds Julian has turned him from a man ready to erupt to a man incapable of thinking thoughts more complex than kiss, lick, suck, fuck. Such a beautiful man.

"Julian?"

Everything stops and Julian's ears ring bright and loud. He peels his lips soundlessly and painfully away from Elim's, sucks them into his own mouth and stares left as if there was something he could see beyond the curtain.

"Julian?" comes the voice again. "I know you're in here," Jadzia chuckles, "I saw you walk through the door."

Julian looks wide-eyed at Garak who can only return the expression. Garak honestly can't remember the last time he felt this cornered; and for what? He isn't stealing information or arranging the untimely demise of some foreign dignitary - no, he is necking in a greenroom with a young man, about to be discovered by the woman with the biggest mouth on the station.

They can hear Jadzia's footsteps as she walks the perimeter of the room, looking for his hiding place. Julian leans back against the wall opposite Garak and peeks through a break in the curtain. The light from the shop cuts a slice down Julian's face setting that one eye to glowing gold and the corner of his mouth rich pink.

"I'm going to find you," she sing-songs, and Julian swallows hard. "Why are you avoiding me, hm? What happened to us having that little conversation this weekend?" She approaches closely, and Julian thinks he should say something, opens his mouth to do so, nervously, but then Elim is shooing at him and shaking his head violently. Another step closer and she stops. She wouldn't look in the changing rooms.

But then she does. She swings open the curtain of the first of the two tiny changing rooms with a quick swipe and Julian jumps a little. That woman has no boundaries, no bloody respect.

"Well then. Only one place you could be-"

Julian pops out around the curtain thrashing it closed behind him and making Jadzia jump a little too. She laughs and smiles brightly. She has a white flower in her hair with a small curl of ribbon the same rose red as the festival hangings on the promenade.

"What are you doing in there?"

He stammers. Of course he does. "In here? Well. Changing."

"Where's Garak?"

"Oh...he...popped out for a minute."

"I didn't see him leave."

"Oh I know. He popped out a while ago. But just for a minute."

"I see."

"He doesn't mind me being here when he's not here. You know." Julian picks a short lime-green taffeta dress from a half-deconstructed display and swings it around. "To try things on or what have you. He actually asked me to just keep an eye on the place, but I thought, while I'm here..."

"You'd try on a lime-green party dress?" Jadzia follows the flashy garment with her eyes as he gestures with it erratically.

"Yeah. No." He laughs out loud. "No, not this. This is. This is for you! I saw this and thought you'd like it."

Jadzia clearly isn't buying it, but neither does she seem to care what his reason is for being in the tailor's shop. Julian is flustered, obviously, but frustrated too, Garak can tell. The man knows how to lie and how to deceive, but it gives him grief to use that on some people. Jadzia takes the dress from Julian's hands as Garak watches from the crack in the curtain, tosses it over the rack again and stares Julian down. "Julian. I really need to talk to you."

"Uhm. Okay."

"It's about me and Worf."

"Uhm. Shouldn't we be heading to the senior staff meeting?"

"What? I thought we were going to talk."

"Well can we do it on the way?" Julian is edging toward the door.

"No! This is going to take longer than the thirty seconds it takes to get to Ops, Julian. Do you really not have more time than that to spare for me?"

"Oh. Uhm. Well. Not at the moment. I really need to be at this meeting, and-"

"What about Garak?" she accuses.

Garak watches as Julian freezes in the doorway. Jadzia isn't chasing him because she's a smart girl. She stands planted, hands on hips right where Julian left her. Julian is too nervous to pick her meaning from her words. He's thinking about getting out of there without the two of them being discovered, and he's thinking about getting her out of there before she tells him something that Garak isn't meant to hear. That's the kind of thing that would eat him alive, even if it were something small. Guilt and Julian do not mix well.

"I thought you were watching his store for him."

"Oh! Yes. Well, he'll be back any second now. We really should be going." Julian waits for her just outside the door.

Garak thinks that where she is standing, he could probably reach one arm out of the changing room and knock her out. Then they could make a quick escape before she woke up again. Granted there would be explanations later, but at least they would have time to invent them while she regained consciousness.

She relieves him of the obligation, though, and sighs and follows him out the door. Garak relaxes a little and listens, hears her complain, "You had time to watch Garak's store but you don't have time to talk to me."

Julian replies defensively, "We have the meeting to go to."

Garak creeps from the changing room to the door to listen as they walk away, make sure they are quite gone before he emerges.

"Sometimes I think the two of you should just get connected at the hip and be done with it," Jadzia says.

Garak chuckles to himself and hears Julian echo it. They are of one mind on that topic. "Nah. The Chief would get jealous," Julian retorts as they make their way around the bend.

..............................

Julian and Jadzia arrive at the meeting, rather early, although that is the norm for most of the senior staff anyway, and he watches as Jadzia seems to switch on like a light when she enters the room and locks eyes with Worf. He smiles to himself and makes a mental note to try not to do that in public himself when he sees Elim, and then thinks, ironically, that he probably has that look about him right now, just trying to stop himself from looking like that. Worf too appears extraordinarily calm and good-humoured. And why shouldn't he? Chances are good he will be going off to battle in the very near future, unless the Dominion just decides to give up tomorrow, (unlikely), and he's married to a beautiful woman who (very likely) showed him over lunch how much she loves him, if the mutual glowing going on is any indication.

He is still a Klingon, though. Still a beast of a man even shagged out, and he still has the power to make Julian nervous with no trouble at all just by being there when he isn't expecting it. Like a big hairy spider under a flower pot. And that is what happens in that moment. Miles is joking around with Julian as they find their seats, distracting him with commonplace banter, and then suddenly Worf is nearer to Julian than he thought, right behind him, and he stiffens when Worf's face comes even nearer and audibly sniffs the air above Julian's shoulder. Electricity runs up the back of his skull, making the hair stand on end, and heat rushes to his cheeks. Miles is still talking but he can't hear him, and all he can think is that Klingon's have very good olfactory senses. It is possible that he smells quite strongly of Cardassian as he was so recently pressed nose to toe against one, and like arousal and sweat. He isn't ready to deal with that.

Worf cocks his head toward Julian's face, over his shoulder and rumbles privately, "Do I smell chocolate?"

An airy laugh escapes Julian's mouth like a bubble of anxiety burst in his throat. Julian inhales deeply in response. "All I smell is lilac," he replies with a grin and Worf mock-frowns, leers, and then goes about his business. If the glowing wasn't enough evidence, the rare appearance of Mr. Worf's sense of humour is definitely indicative of recent deeds, and he flashes Jadzia a wry smile.

It proves to be the longest senior staff meeting Julian has ever attended. It might have actually been the shortest. With the festival still going on outside, Sisko didn't want to keep his officers too long, but it felt like forever. In his seat between Miles and Kira, Julian wonders how sex so quickly becomes an all encompassing thought process that he can't walk away for even a fraction of a day without thinking about it. Though, he supposes, if you spend enough time at it, it's like anything else, your body and brain just get used to it. Like the way your feet and balance get so used to hoverskates that after a few hours you forget how to walk without them. Julian smirks stupidly. They spent so much of the past two days naked and twisted in the sheets he practically forgot how to not have an erection. The thought makes him uncomfortable and hot and he thinks he's forgetting again. He also thinks it's pretty remarkable how easy it is to forget how much it hurt. He could swear it hurt a lot. Could swear. And yet he can't wait to go right back there. He knows that is what is waiting for him, that's the crazy thing. He knows it's going to happen again tonight and he can't look to it with anything other than avid anticipation.

The meeting, though, is a veritable roller coaster of anticipation and worry and exultation for Julian. While his attention wanders away from the conversation at once to a landscape of soft grey scales and sparkling blue eyes contained within his own head, it is snapped back to now over and over when the word Cardassian escapes the mouth of one of his coworkers as they refer to the Dominion, the enemy's fleet, the casualty reports. He is torn between the two factions of his mind. On one hand he has this amazing new thing budding and springing to life within him, and on the other, he has these triggers sparking fear hot and cold within him and setting him to compulsively recalculate the likelihood of total loss. When the meeting breaks up finally it feels like a cool breeze wafting over Julian's sweat-prickled body at the peak of an enormous hill on that roller coaster. They crest the hill together, standing at the table, and trace it's path with their eyes winding through the station. They file out of the ward room single file, down that hill, down the stairs into ops, down faster still into the racket of the promenade with smiles and rushing excitement before spilling out there at the bottom in front of Quark's. Julian meanders on a bewildered path through the booths and entertainers and celebrants along a familiar strip of floor. The lights, sounds, banners, everything is different and astonishing to see as if the station had been replaced by a spring carnival completely. Children run in figure eights around him, laughing, groups of people sway to the motion of music filling the air. Julian samples the Bajoran foods, admires the performers. He watches his friends do the same as they each wander away in their own bubbles of sensory overload. By and by each one is obfuscated by the crowd, and Julian walks on automatic pilot toward the infirmary, his center, even as all this goes on around him, transitioning from participant, a being captivated and linked to this gathering by the shining smiles of Jadzia and Miles and Kira, to merely a contemplative observer.

The last time the promenade was decorated and filled so with people, Julian spent his evening chasing Garak in circles around the place. He smiles privately to himself as he approaches the entrance to the infirmary, wondering where he is right now, if they will reenact it, playing hide and seek in a thicket of Bajorans like the children. That could be fun. Could also be a bit of a challenge, spies not being the easiest people to detect.

The infirmary draws him in like it does every day of his life regardless of what else he has on his plate or on his mind, because it's there. No one else is, however. Two nurses stand at the doorway and smile at him as he walks in, but the place is empty inside. Julian is disappointed, somehow. He has no idea where Garak is. Wouldn't know where to start looking in this crowd. Garak, on the other hand knows where to find him all the time, so he just has to wait for that to happen, and in the mean time, he has to find some way to occupy himself.

Time slides by in measured moments to the rhythm of the band outside. They're lively and enjoyable even from across the promenade and half inside the infirmary. It's winding down though. Afternoon wanes and the band announces their last number, people start to gather their children and beg off from their friends. Julian is about to give in to the temptation to people watch in the doorway with the two nurses when his hand is lightly captured from behind him. He jumps, but remains silent as he turns to find Garak crouched behind a corner console with a finger to his smiling lips. He stands and pulls Julian like a parade float into his office without a single soul noticing their disappearance. The door slides shut behind them and closes out all but a muffled hum from the noise outside and Julian smiles broadly, fully and with his whole face, slinks heavy arms over Elim's shoulders, accepts strong hands beneath each shoulder blade with relish, and presses his lips to Elim's. The kiss breaks wetly but quietly and Julian turns and touches the lock on the door.

That is better. Better than just a thin curtain between them and the rest of the world. Now it is Garak's turn to be ravenous.

Julian grins at him. "How did you get in here?"

Elim doesn't answer except to kiss him again, so Julian takes that to mean he isn't going to get an answer to that one. He resigns himself to enjoying that warm uninhibited smile, something rarely seen on Elim's face, or any Cardassian's face for that matter, interrupted by soft kisses to his lips, and a weak stretch in his chest as Elim takes Julian's hands out away from his body and then folds them behind Julian's own back. "You know I have to leave again for the ceremony in a few minutes." Elim doesn't respond to that either, but Julian didn't really expect him to, didn't really want him to.
Then he is backing him up slowly to the desk, lets go of his hands, and grabs him under the thighs and hoists him up to the desk top. Julian laughs into his mouth because it's a silly thing to do. He and Elim are almost the same height, he's actually just a little taller than Elim, and putting him up on the desk does nothing to even out their heights or make them more accessible to each other. You do this with a woman, with someone shorter than you to put her face at your level. That apparently wasn't his motivation, though, since once there propped on the desk, Elim bends forward with his mouth still against Julian's, pressing him back into the wall until his spine forms against it and Elim's weight presses him down to the desk top. Rather, his motivation seems to be Julian's awkward and giggling discomfort and his goal to pin him like an entomological specimen to the wall. Elim's left knee comes up to the desktop and his hands seal Julian's to the smooth surface too. Julian feels sagged and glued to the spot and he can't stop smiling as his mouth is licked and nibbled away. Then he has to sigh contentment when Elim kisses his way over to his neck, stretches his body up, lifting himself up on strong arms with his hands on top of Julian's hands, pressurizing them and forcing Julian into that state where he was two nights ago, pliant and accepting, because all that weight on the back of his hands, even with the padding of Elim's soft palms between, would hurt if he were not relaxed. Elim laps at his neck and it's like he hits some kind of invisible winch below his ear. With every lick, Julian finds his back arching, and rather than being slumped in on himself he is gasping for air and his chest comes out in defense against the maddening wet stroke of his tongue, lifting Elim with strength he doesn't possess when not chased by a devil. His spine feels like a taut archer's bow.

Elim stops his licking and sucking at his pulse, and hums, growls lowly in his ear just audible over Julian's panting. "Do you have any idea what I am going to do to you tonight?"

A little noise escapes Julian's open mouth, and he is suddenly able to jerk his sweaty palms out from under Elim's, causing him to falter and his chin to come down onto Julian's chest. Julian grabs his head and suffocates him with his own mouth. A couple of padds hit the floor and Julian couldn't care less. He is bucking under Elim and pulling his body to him, trying to get to him, get as close as possible, closer, inside of him, crawl into his skin right through his clothes. Elim is still off balance from this attack and slides down a bit toward the floor; Julian hangs on, and when they land on their feet, Garak on his, Julian on Garak's, Julian launches forward and crumples him to the ground.

It is Garak's turn to laugh now too. Julian is pulling at his shirt even as he is laying on it on a stunned backside. He lets his head clunk to the ground and laughs while Julian tries to eat him alive and peel back his clothing at the same time. Eventually he finds the strength to push him back a little, hold him tightly to himself with one hand at the small of his back (and Julian grinds into him when he does - and doesn't that feel amazing) and hold his upper body away for just a moment, long enough to look him in the eye. "My dear, what do you think we're going to do in the five minutes before you have to leave?"

Julian seems to acknowledge hearing the question as he pauses, but then chooses to ignore it (Garak ignored his questions after all) and dives for Garak's neck again. He shuts his eyes tight and stifles his laughter best he can, struggles with the young, warm man plastered to him like velcro, and finally rolls them over to pin him to the floor instead, panting. He looks wild-eyed and hungry, and Garak can not fucking wait to wipe that look off his face - but he will have to. He studies his needful expression with a sanguine smile and rocks his hips slowly against Julian's, rubbing with his pelvic bone up Julian's shaft through their clothes. Julian whines a little.

"I'm sorry, my love," he whispers. "I only came here to steal a kiss and remind you of our date tonight. I didn't mean to tease you. Much."

He whines again, just a speck. "Do you really expect me to be able to walk out that door without waddling right now?"

Garak smiles and pecks him quickly on the lips. "You have a couple of minutes yet to collect yourself." Julian is still giving him that look. "I also came to ask you if you would meet me for dinner."

Julian tries not to look panicky but thinks he probably failed for a split second, long enough for Elim to catch it. He really didn't want there to be any further delay after the ceremony.

Elim chuckles again. "We haven't shared a meal in a few days without being naked while doing so."

"I liked that."

"As did I," he responds and makes no further argument because he knows he doesn't' need to.

"Alright," Julian says with a bashful smile that warms quickly. They would have to eat at some point. Might as well do that first so there won't be any interruptions later.

Elim crawls off of him and gets to his feet, offers Julian his hand. Julian takes it and uses his momentum to crash gently into Elim as soon as he is standing, wraps his arms around him again and takes his mouth. Kissing, kissing, kissing, warmth and wet inside and that want keeps on rising instead of abating. If he had any sense at all in his head he would see the connection inherent there and stop kissing him, but that seems like a ridiculous idea, really. He takes a few deep breaths through his nose and then has to chuckle again. "Is it my imagination or is this the longest day in history?"

Elim bites his tongue. He is so turned on there is the potential for so much to come spilling out of his mouth right now. He wants to describe to him in exotic detail exactly how long he can make time stretch out with the simplest tools; a cane, some rope. They will get there. For now he says nothing on it but to smile and kiss his temple. "I will be waiting for you at Quark's."

~*~

"Done already?" Elim sits at a quiet table with two glasses of water and a tiny pink vase holding a spray of artificial flowers. Quark has terrible taste.
He shrugs. "It was very short and to the point."
"I thought the Christopher Pike Medal was a big deal."
"It is. But it looked like the admiral had other business to get to."
"Perhaps he was jealous?"
"I didn't think of that." Julian puzzles a moment. "Don't know that I would have noticed if he gave that away. I was so preoccupied, I'm not sure I was even there,"
"Preoccupied?" he asks with innocence.
Julian doesn't reply. He's still a bit out of his head even now, even faced with the bright hungry eyes across the table from him. He can't wait to get back to Elim's quarters, but at the same time, the immanency of it is stating to bring the fear back home, and his mind is racing for solutions to a problem that doesn't exist. He feels suddenly that today he may have slightly miscalculated his bravery. It was all very easy to be bold in public when he knew it would never amount to anything.
They eat quickly. Garak can feel Julian's leg jittering under the table and see it as the flowers on the table dance in place. Julian doesn't seem to notice the effect his nervousness is having on the decoration, or on Elim for that matter. He decides while watching him silently wrestle with anxiety and anticipation across the table, that this was a mistake. He should not have given him the opportunity to agonize. Dinner one way or the other wouldn't have made a difference actually, that isn't the problem. He has had hours of meetings all day to stew and worry and there is nothing else for him to do in public right now. Idle conversation is stilted when there are more important matters at hand; sex, privacy, pain and fulfillment, but they cannot talk about those matters without the potential of being discovered or at least looking very suspicious to others. All he has is his thoughts, which have apparently turned dark. Julian eats some but at a point stops and starts twisting his napkin instead.
Garak wishes they could have had some more time alone before this. He thinks had he been able to keep Julian tied up in his quarters for a good solid week before letting him back to his regular life, take it one step at a time without that urgency built up by too many hours apart, some of this stress could have been avoided. Though if he had done that someone would have come banging his door down looking for him within a day or two anyway. Sometimes he wishes Julian was a directionless Boslic vagabond rather than a brilliant doctor with responsibilities and duties. It would clear up his schedule at least.
Garak watches him a moment and then puts down his fork and wipes his mouth. "Love," he says no louder than a pin drop, and Julian looks up at him. Garak motions with his head toward the door.

~*~

Elim's cock is heavy and wet, his hips powerful as they rut against him. The cock slides up his backside and is sidetracked one direction or the other by the root of Julian's. Elim thrusts up against him over his entrance a few times, then slides a wet finger into him. He's been doing this maddening combination for a long time now, and Julian thrums with tension all over his body. Elim kisses and licks and sucks at his skin; his neck, his face, his lips and chest, with the rest of his body surrounding, compacting, and holding him securely to the bed. He takes out his finger and lets his cock slide through the warm wetness there again for a while, nudging at his entrance now and then. Julian only jumped the first time.
"You feel so good," Garak whispers hotly in Julian's ear and is rewarded with the tightening of Julian's arms around him. They breathe deeply in unison and Julian's random vocalizations are soft, high, and needy. Elim is ready, more than ready, and he thinks Julian is too. He stops his ministrations with his mouth and simply bites a small mouthful of flesh on his shoulder near but not on top of a dozen other faint bite marks he has left him already tonight. Then he takes his cock in hand and rubs the head against him, feels for that spot and starts to gently push. Julian flinches and then starts sucking in quick panicky breaths.
"I...I thought of something!" he says with that same edge of panic. He is shivering violently beneath him. Garak stops, throws the breaks on and is nearly shaking trying to keep them on. "During the ceremony today," he continues, huffing. Garak wonders if Julian can not sense how painful this is for him or if he is doing it to be cruel.
Garak swallows and pants in his ear. "And you...want to share this with me...now."
"Well I had an idea," he says apologetically, then actually squirms away from Garak and sits up. Garak tries not to look wildly out of control or ravenous. "I...really want to do this."
"As do I," Elim interjects quickly and pointedly. A little smile tugs at the corner of Julian's mouth. So yes, he gets it, mostly, but this is more important. Ok, Julian, ok.
"I want to do this, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to, based on what happened last night," he puts a hand up before Garak can interrupt. "I just want to try something, try it a different way."
Garak absorbs this, considers the options, then agrees. "Alright."
Julian feels gangly and awkward but after warring with that, he more or less coaxes Elim into a kneeling position facing the headboard, feet curled beneath him, and then feels doubly odd turning his back to him.
This may be a new one on Garak, a strange position that doesn't seem like much fun, but if it will alleviate his worries, then. Julian wants to feel in control of this, and Garak can understand that. He may be disappointed with how much he succeeds in controlling it, but the allowance given by Garak will help. He puts hands to Julian's hips to follow him because he is struggling to understand this still, the kinetics of playing a different position in a familiar game, and just because he doesn't want to give up contact for a second or let him feel alone. Elim places his lips to the back of his neck and kisses, assures, then guides him, feels his breath stutter as he lines them up, then lets him go, lets him decide how far and how fast, and tries to just sit and leave his body behind for a moment so he won't interfere.
Julian breathes and lets himself down little by little, then jerks back up with a sharp hiss. That little near-breach hurts, just that, and he starts worrying again. Elim strokes fingers down his back, and Julian can feel his breath come slow and steady behind him. Elim is anxious too, but showing patience above and beyond Julian's hopes still. He lets Elim's breathing set the rhythm of his own, and then comes down again, breathing, halting, breathing, breathing, his concentration loosely set there in his lungs and in the controlled burn in his thigh muscles. Everything else must stay relaxed, and with that combination, he succeeds. The touch of Elim's thighs to his own is almost enough to shift him off of this tiny point of mental and physical symmetry, but he takes a quick deep breath and wills his body open and lax still, to stay that way.
Elim's fingers dust over his shoulders and his lips follow. Julian can feel his kiss melt into a smile. "How about that," he says softly. Julian just breathes a moment more before coming to the conclusion that he hasn't won yet. Still needs to figure out how to move like this. Bravery in place, though, he flexes his legs and moves up. There is a little tightness as his body attempts to exert it's own reflexive will, but Julian breathes through his open mouth and imagines himself hollowed from head to end. Then it is time to repeat, it happens without thought, and a smile peeks from the corner of his mouth because he feels it this time, the things he is supposed to feel that were blocked by the pain before. An electric shiver comes over his body like a first kiss, a rush of blood to his head. His whole body seems to ripple happily around Elim's cock, and he sighs, sitting down fully on him. Elim fills in him a void he hadn't known existed until this moment. That's where that first kiss feeling comes from. When your lips long for a caress they've never known before and cannot know the beauty of, and then finally do, it's the same feeling, but the anticipation of it was missing because he had no idea that he should miss this deep feeling.
Julian smiles to himself, a gentle grin under closed eyes. "See," he breathes. "I know what I'm talking about sometimes." He moves up and down on him, experimentally, shallowly, and Elim completes each trip with a kiss to his back. Julian closes his eyes then, breathes in and out through his mouth and focuses on what his body is telling him. The tightness in his thighs, the stretch over Elim's, the unaccustomed intrusion into him, and his body's resignation to that presence. It tingles all around. It's like his body forgot that this part of him was capable of feeling good things, but now Elim has reminded him, and he feels it, feels the slide into him with just enough friction that all those neglected nerves are singing. Feels the fullness that is at once familiar and odd. The withdrawal is beautiful, the return exhilarating. Julian's mouth waters a little.
It's difficult though. He is lifting himself up and down with thigh muscles alone. Elim has taken his hands at his sides, he had no place to put them anyway, and while he is fairly strong, the action gets difficult quickly. Elim is making little wanting noises behind him as well. He has heard himself make that noise before. He cannot recall the exact context now, but the sound calls to mind dying of thirst, sweating his life out of his pores. He gets the impression anyway that Elim needs more as well, and isn't terribly surprised when he drops his hands, and his arms snake around his waist and lift him off his lap.
"Do you mind if I lead?" he says with disguised need.
Julian exhales on a quiver, still feeling open and strange down below, but turns a brave smile to Garak. "Ok."
"Do you like this? With me behind you?" Elim asks quietly with a knowing look.
Julian blushes on top of his already arousal and heat-pinked cheeks and nods.
Elim guides him to hands and knees, then wordlessly urges him to put his head to the pillow, fold his arms. There is a moment's trepidation as he lines up again, and it happens faster than Julian was expecting, no slow ease like before, just in, though shallowly, and it blossoms like before, a surprising inclusion in him but his body remembers, and grudgingly allows it. Julian just tries to breathe and concentrate on breathing.
But then he can't really, suddenly. He is there on his knees, feeling the air cool on his lips going in and damp going out, and staring at the wrinkles on the pillow with Elim's cock inside of him, just a bit, and Elim shifts. He feels Elim's cock go left and then right with his shifting weight and the mattress dips behind his knees, and then suddenly regular breathing isn't enough. Elim goes in. Julian can feel his hips against his rear end and his mouth opens wide for more air because he is so deep inside of him, and it happened so fast, like the difference between penetrated and penetrated completely is both dramatic and easy to achieve. Elim groans behind him, pushes a little, and then retreats. Julian gasps again in time for him to connect again, and it sets up a quick pattern that makes Julian lightheaded in a moment. Julian swallows and makes an inarticulate noise as Elim pumps into him rapidly. He hears Elim respond with a grateful moan and feels a caress to his flank that he barely registers. He is so deep inside of him, Julian can't feel or imagine much else.
"Ohhhhh, Julian," Garak sighs long and happily, stretching his name out until the last syllable dies softly on his lips. He just needed a taste. Needed to get inside of him and let go for a moment. So much relief, so much more complete than before. To have Julian open and pliant beneath him, surrounding him, he feels at peace. He knows Julian isn't feeling quite the same way right now, anal sex being what it is the first time, but he sounds like he is enjoying it as much as he can beyond the overload. Garak strokes deeply into him, then stops, indulges in a few rapid thrusts that coax noises from Julian's lungs, then goes slow to feel that sweet sharp drag all around his cock and the warmth (he is hot as the Cardassian sun!) envelope him tip to hilt. His finer scales are wet and shiny when he looks down, and he rocks his hips to rub them against Julian's skin.
Julian is aware, now that the brief assault has slowed, why this feels so different. He's helpless. He has never before associated this kind of arousal with helplessness, but there it is. That's the difference. He's always been the one in control before, and now, same as it was yesterday really. Though yesterday he was on his back, and far more vulnerable. The soft undersides of his knees, his belly, his genitals, all lined up and exposed. As silly as it seems, the physical distance between his front and his back makes all the difference between being in control and not, and the difference between total vulnerability and semi-protection makes the distance seem less vast when you're not in control. You have no eyes or hands in the back of you. If someone attacks you from behind you have little you can do but run away, and Julian has no where to run. He is not being attacked, but he understands the underlying sense of it now. Garak reaches inside of him and holds him here, and that act is both his pleasure and his means of keeping it, because Julian could not escape if he wanted to. It feels so different. That was perhaps the most frightening thing, but Elim's hand sliding slowly up his back reassuring him that he is still here, he hasn't left Julian alone with his unsupervised envy, and the pain of inexperience abated, he's is free to appreciate the more subtle facets of this new thing; at least until Elim decides to lay into him hard again. There is nothing subtle about that.
Garak stops a moment, waits, and lets him acclimate. His breathing is level and deep, and Elim thinks he is learning. He is always learning, Julian. He is absorbing and memorizing the poise of his muscles, the weight of Garak's penetration into him. Garak wants to show him everything. Can't wait to teach him everything he knows, just to see what an amazing mind like Julian's might do with that knowledge. Elim wants to wrap around him the way Julian's body swallows his cock so beautifully. He wants to make Julian feel that way all over. So he pushes down. He urges Julian's knees under him, folding him up, and sliding forward on top of him with his cock still just there, buried to the head and no further. He moves foreword on top of him and folds his arms over his back to complete the pose. He settles his weight there and listens as Julian's breath begins to leave him. There is a momentary surge beneath him as Julian realizes he cannot breathe but shallowly now. Gravity now working in Garak's favor, he slides deeply into Julian and lets the weight of his whole body press him down and the strong muscles of his abdomen power his smooth thrust in. Julian whimpers almost inaudibly beneath him and Garak's cock throbs with his rapid pulse inside. Garak kisses his back a few times and whispers to him in Kardassi below the register of the translator that his body feels like nothing he has ever loved before, like heaven to behold, and like hell to resist. Then he lifts himself up again and watches as Julian tries to recapture his lost breath but not stir even remotely from the posture Elim gave to him.
Garak lifts Julian's hips back up, places a wet kiss to the dip of his tail bone and breathes in the perfume of his skin. Then he resumes with a more gentle rhythm with hands over the rounds of Julian's soft backside. He slides his right hand down around his hip over the cooler skin there where he is mostly bone, and then into the tighter space between belly and thigh where it gets warmer by a leap, into the achingly soft crux of his groin, and then leans forward to scoop his balls in hand. Julian barely seems to notice as Garak tests their weight in his hand and marvels at their vulnerability, so far away from protective muscle and bone. Even the skin is thin and fragile feeling, velvety. He lets them drop again, and they move gently with Garak's every thrust into Julian and he just keeps his hand there to feel their motion. He can't imagine having to contend with such an uncontrollable body part. Julian's cock, too, is a mystery, though not right now. Garak is well acquainted with the dark heavy feeling he has there now, familiar with that weight Garak can feel with his knuckles. Julian is hard as stone as he brushes them up the side. It is warm with the skin pulled tight, the curve of it parallel with his taught belly. Garak takes it at the base with thumb down and fingers above, twists gently and slicks his hand down to the head. Julian tightens around him in response and Garak sees stars for a second, has to breathe a few deep breaths consciously to keep himself cool. He scoots closer to him, knees Julian' legs a little farther apart and watches his back tighten to two thick ropes around his spine to hold him up, feels Julian's inner thighs do the same against his own. Garak reaches behind himself with his right hand and collects some of the juice he has been spilling for hours now, dripping down his legs reminding him of overripe fruit weighty in his hand and sticky sweet. He takes Julian's cock in hand again. He starts a slow beat inside of him, and with each stroke in, his hand comes toward him with fingers and palm griping tightly and rubbing sharp friction over the underside of Julian's cock.
Julian is keening in only a moment and Garak smiles to himself. He is so easy. That tender flesh is so easily manipulated and teased, and yet not so fragile he must worry. So simple to drive him wherever Garak wants him to go. He stops then and fells Julian to his side with just a tiny tap to his hip. He scoops him around to lay him on his back once more, covering him completely, grabbing him with his torso like the palm of a giant hand, each limb a gripping finger over this tiny doll. Julian moans, whines at the loss of his hand on his cock and reaches down for it himself even as Garak slides a hand beneath his head and captures his mouth, seeks out his tongue with punishing, brutally hungry teeth. Garak confounds and frustrates his attempt to satisfy himself with elbows first and finally removing his lips regrettably from Julian's and verbally warning him.
"Ah-ah," he rumbles and Julian looks up needfully at him, completely open as if he were in real pain already. Garak takes one hand, then the other, and gently steers them up above Julian's head. Julian licks his dry lips and pants, squirms just slightly beneath him.
Elim is just holding onto him again, immobilizing him and making him wait. He was close a moment ago, very, very close. Now his body rocks without his understanding, his hips canting down and back straining for contact. Elim scoops his own hips down and under and his cock sinks into Julian again without the aid of his hands. Julian huffs surprise and heat rushes to his head, blood to his cock. He hears himself moan but doesn't believe it's really him. Only a moment later, Elim withdraws from him again with a grunt, and it kisses, makes a wet, licentious sound Julian also can't believe has come from his own body. Just once in and he's gone again and Julian misses it. He wants him back there inside of him. This internal want feels like the opposite of the pressure in his swollen cock, like if he could release one into the other he would be balanced except that isn't even what he wants. He wants to be unbalanced, he wants to swing the other way completely, go from a sex overburdened with blood and energy to straining and vacated, wants someone to suck it out of him, and at the same time his insides want to be pressurized and overfilled and stirred up, and he wants Elim to do it.
Garak looks down at him. His gaze darts from one of Julian's dark and liquid eyes to the other, traces his sharp jaw and softly trembling mouth. "Are you ready to begin?" he asks then, head tilting to one side.
Julian blinks. "Begin?" Garak smiles and leans down again to kiss kiss kiss his way from jaw to nipple, then brings his teeth gently around the nub. Julian grunts once, shivers a little.
"Come," Elim says then, and urges him to sit up again, then back to hands and knees. Elim takes his hands and places them at the top of the headboard, smooths his fingers down over the cold black bar set just in front of it following its curve. It registers faintly in Julian 's mind that he does not have such a thing on his bed. That this, like other aspects of Garak's quarters, and similarly, like Garak himself, is different than the norm for the rest of the station, though you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it, or Elim was fucking you up against it.
He is like a workbench in front of Garak, then. He kneels at his side at first, holding much the same position as Julian, one hand just resting on top of Julian's, not holding them there, but reminding them of their place. He turns Julian's head to him and takes a glorious kiss that wounds him it's so beautiful. Julian is just so good right now, primed to take and absorb him. Lined up perfectly and responding like he was born for this. He never moves his hands from where Garak placed them, but stretches up as Garak's own insistent hands pull and twist his neck and back tugging at his hair to make his front accessible to him. Small avaricious nips turn to hard bites down his neck from there, each one eliciting an open-mouthed moan from Julian and making him flinch and squirm. Garak moves down with his hand still up against Julian's jaw, keeping his head up, neck stretched, probably uncomfortably, and ducks under his arm to bite his chest, the round of skin he can grasp to the outside of his nipple, squeezes, pinches with his teeth and grinds his jaw. Julian cries out and Garak feels the reverberation in his palm against his throat and listens to Julian's hands squeak and wrench with sweaty palms around the bar, feels the tremor in his whole body. Elim releases him at length and licks at the spot. Julian sighs and whimpers as he relaxes back to kneeling on the bed. Garak's hand on his chest, he can feel Julian's heart racing beneath. "Good boy," he murmurs to him. "You have nothing to worry about, my dear."
Garak runs his hands down Julian's flank and follows his hands with slow scraping bites at him, eyes open wide and watching him carefully. Julian's stomach muscles flinch and stutter as he tries to keep himself under control, and with the release of Garak's jaw, Julian releases his breath and his voice too and then sucks in a new breath to hold it in preparation for the next chain-linked bite down his side. "Breathe, Julian," he has to stop and coo to him. Julian does, then Garak is back on him with a kiss and another bite. He sucks at the skin by his lowest rib after the bite, signaling a pause, and then sits up straighter with his chest against Julian's side. He wraps a gentle hand around the back of Julian's neck and rubs a little while. He feels his back rise and fall as he catches his breath with his head resting on his knuckles. That neck and the small ear nearby are tempting and Garak leans in and breathes over it, knowing it must tickle, seeing the shiver run up his back. "Inside, Julian," he says behind his ear and can nearly feel him vibrating. "Do you like to feel me inside?"
Julian's eyes slip closed and he nods ever so slightly. He feels dulled and stupid, like Elim's voice turns to woodsmoke as it passes his lips and lulls him, but it isn't a bad feeling at all. Feels like release, relinquishment of some higher consciousness to nature in exchange for instinct. Elim's breath trails down his back followed by light skipping fingertips over his sweat-sticky skin, and a wave of anticipation seems to preempt it. His muscles all twitch around that tickling air, but it really doesn't tickle. His rear end tingles for a second before Elim's mouth contacts it, closes around a hunk of it, tries to tear it from his frame. Julian's voice comes from his shocked lungs until he is certain he should have run out of air ages ago. He sounds ridiculous to his own ears but doesn't care. Half of his body taken in a random sampling of anterior and posterior muscles is betraying him, trying to scramble away, and the other half hangs on desperately. Elim's teeth grind deeper into the meat of his backside and Julian ends up pressed up against the wall above the bed, head crooked and smashed under the console, arms fighting the bar. He is glad it is there though. While he evidences in his body his desire to flee, he really doesn't want to. He is glad of the physical barrier to help keep him there.
Garak lets him go abruptly and leaves a lot of glistening saliva behind around the large red mark. Julian's profile is contorted against the wall, brows high and pinched. His jaw is slack but his mouth tells more of his internal struggle as it twitches over his teeth and around his breath. Garak finds a new spot and bites him again. Julian's cry is unrestrained and the sound envelopes Garak, makes him throb inside where the hot weight of his cock lay in wait. He wants to hear more of that sound, but thinks in this moment to err on the side of caution, and after scraping his teeth across his wet skin, steps regretfully away from the beauty on his bed and fetches a few things from his closet. Would have had to get them at some point anyway, even if Julian knew how to keep his voice down. As he steps away, though, he can see that Julian isn't even looking. He's there with his eyes shut and panting against the wall which now also bares a smear of his sweat. A smile plays across Garak's face. He'll watch next time. He won't take his eyes off him next time.
Elim returns to his side and Julian feels him and sees him there all at once. He has a small red pillow in his hand, something like a throw cushion. Elim takes his head in one large hand and adjusts the tilt to bring their lips together. Julian kisses him back with all the reverence he feels, but probably very little of the sophistication he hopes to convey, and then continues his panting when Elim is done and smiling faintly at him. "This is new," Elim says, and Julian takes the square pillow with one numb hand. "So we don't wake the neighbors."
It isn't late enough yet to be waking anyone, but Garak also doesn't want security interrupting them to enforce a noise ordinance.
Julian looks half drunk. He holds the pillow up atop the headboard and lays his arms across it, leans his forehead against the wall and seems to relax into the posture again. Either Julian didn't really understand what Garak meant by the remark, it just didn't sink in, or he doesn't think he'll need it right this second, apparently. Garak is not in his direct line of sight still, mostly behind his gently swaying form, and he lets a wry grin spread across his face for a moment before stamping it down and weighing, for a moment, his options.
Garak nods to himself a half second later. "On second thought, come here a moment will you, Love?"
Julian perks up and turns blearily toward him. Garak takes him around one shoulder gently, with encouragement and a smile on his face, brushes the backs of his knuckles of his right hand down his spine gently and then cups his other hand quickly and with no fanfare over Julian's mouth and hits him hard across the backs of his thighs with the switch in his right hand. All the force of Julian's yelp is absorbed and deflected by Garak's hand, the air squeezing out all over and whiffling through a single stray lock of hair across his forehead. His eyes go wide and his hands come up to grip Garak's shoulder and try to prise his hand away so he can more effectively gasp for breath. Garak lets his face go with a caress to his cheek.
"Would you like the pillow now?" Julian looks at him with unconcealed shock, but obeys, takes the small pillow from where he dropped it on the mattress and places it back upon the headboard edge with a glance behind him to look at the thin switch now unconcealed in Garak's hand. It's quite nondescript, nothing more than a thin flexible rod with a handle on one end and a leather loop on the other. Garak has many implements that are far more interesting at least to the eye, but interesting isn't what he is going for tonight. Just simple, just effective.
Julian's heart is beating erratically against the fast and steady heaving of his lungs. His hands shakily squeeze the pillow. There is a hot stripe across the backs of his thighs right now, like he's leaning back against a metal bar in the sun. Elim moves, shifts as he knee-walks closer to him and Julian's back muscles spasm all over in anticipation. He doesn't strike him though, not yet. The next thing he feels is the cool smooth touch of the crop to the cleft of his ass. He vaguely fears it coming down in that spot next, but at the same token has no idea what to expect if that were to happen, what it would feel like, so the fear is unsubstantial. It doesn't strike still, just lays there a few seconds, then spins in Elim's hand, a funny tickle there as it turns, and then slides up, then down the cleft, and the loop brushes his entrance. Julian feels his body cringe involuntarily at that and he hears a small amused hum from Elim.
Then he hits him. Julian thinks he hears it after he feels it, though that thought flees far faster than anything else. His face goes instinctively to the pillow and he yells into it. A shiver and a need for oxygen take him over immediately. Strange his reaction to what would in any other situation be a shocking but mild pain, but considerations like that don't stay in his head either. His quick breathing goes back down, eventually, and it's only a few seconds later that Elim hits him again a little higher, where his gluts meet his hams, there in the tender fold, and Julian yells compulsively again. He wraps the pillow around his face and tries to breath through it. The crop is cold again as it touches the searing hot lines on his skin, runs gently over his backside before zipping through the air again and snapping at his flesh.
In a few moments and a few more strikes, Julian's back becomes fully arched up, his ass is tight and pulled in close, and his thighs have turned in, ankles crossing behind him in some sort of primal defense posture designed to keep his testicles out of harms way. Garak is no where near them, and certainly wouldn't try, but the quivering of his muscles and the cowedness of his posture is adorable and irresistible, and his cries feel like lightning shooting through Garak's middle. Garak has laid about twenty overlapping red welts across each leg before he pauses. He scoots up close behind him, runs a hand down his back and gently over the bright red area, leans down to take a closer look at it and then around to study his face. The pillow is blotched with saliva, and Julian's face is red, what he can see of it, almost as red as his thighs, but he breathes steadily.
Elim 's hands are a welcome, pleasurable reprieve for the few seconds he uses them. He turns the crop vertical only a moment later and gives him two quick licks down each buttock and Julian hears a strangling noise escape his throat before he gasps into the wet pillow again. After filling his lungs completely with air again it all comes tumbling out once more as the next sound he makes sounds suspiciously like laughter, but he isn't sure how that's possible.
Then Elim is chuckling behind him too. They're laughing together, and the hands come back to his rear end. They feel cold now, and good. Elim kisses the new marks on him, all over, and a few places he hasn't touched with the crop yet he kisses as well, letting the chuckle die out as he does.
"If I hit you with my hands," he says lowly against Julian's spine, "would you be afraid of me in the morning?"
Julian thinks a moment, or tries to through the haze, tries to imagine what Elim means by 'hit', exactly. In the end, and the end was only a few seconds from the beginning, he deigns the disambiguation pointless because even if he was afraid Elim might really hit him, he is going to answer the same way.
"I'm always afraid of you."
Garak pauses on that, feels his brow knit and places a gentle hand on Julian's back, strokes his soft skin compulsively. "Why?"
Julian just breathes for a while, then seems to take one deep slow breath before pushing his answer from his lungs. "It's...fucking scary, the way you make me feel."
Garak smiles, runs his hand down Julian's flank, over his exposed behind, kisses it once more. "If it pleases you, I will continue to scare you as long as you like."
Julian doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and relinquishes himself to that trembling feeling, the way his presence just seems to flood him with life. Elim smacks him hard with his hand coming down and plastering to his skin as if the heat from that impact would weld them together. Julian expels it all into the damp pillow he has clutched tightly to his face and doesn't move at all except with the force of Elim's strikes. He slaps and then grinds, digs his fingertips into him and squeezes, then brings his hand down again. One side, then the other, then back again, and again.
His ass is shining and red and has become firm and slippery with the swelling skin. His fingers knead into it and Julian moans continuously, his voice growing hoarse. Julian's right leg is angled in a bit more to keep him balanced while Garak worked that side of him and when Garak reaches between his legs to give his cock a gentle caress he finds it has been leaking steadily down that leg for some time, a wet trail in evidence. Garak murmurs a wordless sound of pleasure and pulls Julian's cock down between his legs, holds it there cupped in his hand and pets it with the other hand. Then hand over hand he strokes it, pulls it down, enjoying the odd roll of his foreskin, and then crouches to take it in this mouth from behind Julian. It throbs between his lips and he sucks it lovingly, laps up the underside, over his sac, all the way up to his tailbone, then again.
"You are absolutely beautiful, Julian." He means it when he says it. He cannot say he has ever seen anything more gratifying, more erotic and alluring than what is laid out before him. He lays his vibrating hands on his back, slides them up to his shoulders bringing his hips in alignment with Julian's and lays his cheek on his flattened shoulder blade just to feel the heat radiating off of him. He scoops his arms around his torso and runs his hands down his chest, into the well of his hips and down his thighs. Everything just feels so perfect. Garak reaches back up over his shoulders and gently pulls the pillow away from his face. He gives it up easily once Garak's tug on it's corner seems earnest enough. He glances back at the Cardassian once and let's him take it. Garak tosses it to the side and pulls Julian up next, by his shoulder, wraps his arms around him as he does, unsheathes his cock into the space between Julian's legs and turns Julian's head to kiss him over his shoulder. They're lips reach for each other over and over, tongues craving the warm refuge of each other's mouths. Garak supports them both with quivering back muscles, Julian leaning nearly his full weight on him, but even so, with one hand he pulls Julian's face ever closer to his, just a little closer, he knows if they try they can be a little closer, and with the other, guides his cock with gently curled fingers to Julian's entrance.
Garak has to gasp and then sigh as he sinks into him. His mouth waters a little, and then he smiles faintly when he feels Julian take his finger into his mouth. It was right there, his right palm under his jaw and not doing anything in particular. Julian didn't even make a sound as he passed into him this time, like it was old hat or something and that makes Garak smile more. He relaxes down a moment, comes down from that strained reaching that so necessarily accompanies such sweet penetration and completion, but then he resumes, undulating with his whole body, because it is necessary as breathing right now to show him he is putting everything into this. You are the be all end all for me, Boy. You are the epitome of my desire. Julian moans and moves with him, pressing himself down hard onto Garak's cock, and pulling his abs and buttocks in tight as he pulls away. Garak nearly loses his head a few times from that maneuver. Garak breathes as heavily as Julian is now. So good, so sweet. But he can't help but feel like maybe this isn't as new as it seems, maybe Julian is right. Maybe they've been doing this for the past six years. Like every conversation, every heated look shared across the promenade was just a more distant form of this intimacy, and that the actual fucking, last night, the introduction, was just a formality, and now it's just business as usual; hot, frantic, mind-blowing business, as usual, with the man he's been making love to in his mind for the past six years.
Julian takes his own cock in hand and gives it gentle strokes in time with Elim's. The slippery feeling of his love inside of him makes him toss his head back and forth on Elim's shoulder, and the way his prick, so hard now, so incredibly hard and unyielding hits that spot deep within him, he can't keep his eyes open, can't think at all. Elim's cock erases his mind and it feels so good. Elim's hand, he blearily notices, joins his own around his cock, and each stroke is so sharp, so present and tight despite their gentle pace and grip, it's only a few seconds more sucking in hugelungfuls of warm moist air before Julian spasms throughout his body, makes a strangled, cut off noise near Elim's ear, tenses all through his back and comes. It rips through him, splits him in two, and his come jumps up and lands back on him, all over him. Disoriented and high, Elim continues to pump his cock and he feels like he is dying, sounds like it too. He can see the last few drops of come squeeze to the tip of his cock when his eyes crack open, and then Elim moves inside of him again, and if fucking hurts.
Julian's brow knits and he gasps for air, digs his fingers into Elim behind him and then lets out a reverberating mewl of pain.
Garak feels ever so slightly guilty drinking in that sound, but he does it anyway. "Shh," he says in his ear, "Just another moment, Love." He wants to come inside of him. Needs to. Needs to because in six years he hasn't once. He vaguely wonders if he shouldn't spare him that tonight, the first night, really, but he knows he doesn't need to, knows he isn't going to, that nothing save instantaneous death could make him stop right now. Julian falls forward and Garak somehow, by God he does somehow stay with him. Julian is so tight so so so tight around him and it has to hurt. It makes Garak hurt thinking about it, and ache somewhere deep inside listening to him whimper into the pillow and then cough as he gasps for more air. "Almost, Baby, almost," he mutters, and then there is this ear-ringing silence for a bare second, the rushing of his blood blotting out the rest of existence, and finally he is coming. He screws his eyes shut and growls through his teeth, the whole world streaked with black and pleasure dripping off his bones and teeth.
They collapse in slow motion, robots with dying power cells laying down one servo at a time until they clunk heads on the pillow and lay there recapturing long lost air for some unknown and uncared-for chunk of time. When conscious thought does finally start to trickle back, Garak levers himself around, turns over one part of him at a time to drape a weak limb over Julian's ribs. "I'm sorry, Love."
Julian laughs. He makes a sound like he was going to retort but then just laughs some more.
Garak smiles faintly. He understands, but he wanted to apologize anyway, for the lie.
"Elim," he says with a sleepy grin and shakes his head. He rolls over with difficulty, getting winded with just that much movement, and scoots in as close as he can to him until their arms and legs interfere and get squashed between them. Now that he's here and has his attention he doesn't quite know what to say, though.
"You felt so good. I couldn't let you go."
"I didn't want you to let me go," Julian says just above a whisper. Elim seems to study his face for just a moment more then leans in and puts his lips to Julian's with a thumb to his cheek. His eyelashes brush the bridge of his nose once, and it tells Julian that his eyes have slipped closed. He kisses him back tenderly, wrapping a hand around under his shoulder to stroke down his scales. The kiss breaks at length, but it proves to be only one of perhaps hundreds to be exchanged that night while they lay there in silence in the comfort of Elim's rooms, discovering each other anew.

baby steps

Is it my imagination or did Blogger just make another step toward becoming a real journal site? vis: Searchable comma separated values. *nod*

Black Bottle et al

I've stalled out on Black Bottle. I have tons of notes, I have chapter seven almost done, I know exactly what is going to happen, I still love the characters, still think endlessly about it...I just can't write the god-damned sex. I've been working on the sex for months now. I get a little done here and a little done there, but it feels clinical and hollow and I'm not enjoying writing it. Which wouldn't be a huge deal except that the sex was supposed to be a major part of this story. I mean. They're different species. And it's supposed to be bdsm as well. I can't fade to black on this. Part of the problem is I have no time or place to myself anymore to write. It's kinda hard to stay focused on kinky shit when my husband is wandering around the room, alternately looking over my shoulder (no you can't read this, switching over to icanhascheezburger ktks) or playing loud obnoxious youtube videos twenty feet away. I think I'm going to have to get myself a table, chair, and a fan upstairs so I can write, but really, pain in the ass right there, and uncomfortable. Not sure that will really help. I really haven't done more than peck at anything for the past couple months - ever since our free time has started overlapping completely.

The other thing is, I'm becoming more and more aware that if I'm going to publish something, I need to stop fucking around with fan fiction. Can't publish that, not unless it's an AU and I can de-fannonize it sufficiently, but that's another blockage altogether. This blockage is the one called "you've never actually finished anything in your life, poo-head". I really haven't. It's pathetic. My life's path thus far is a trail littered with unfinished projects. Black Bottle may be yet another. I thought if I could finish Black Bottle it would give me the confidence to know that I can finish a large project if I really want to, that it could be a stepping stone to the first novel. But here I am. Half way through Black Bottle and stalled.

How long do I hang on to it? Do I drop BB for now and try to work on one of the many original projects I have sketched out? Or is dropping it going to make it that much easier to be apathetic about giving up on the real goals?

I've gotten some smaller things done in the interim, which has been encouraging. I picked up a bunny I had written down months ago, cuddled it, and turned it into a decent, medium-sized one-shot csi fic. I took my MAJOR PROJECT, my sci-fi novel that I've been destroying and rewriting over and over since I was thirteen and drew up a timeline for a large chunk of it, got some brainstorming done, made some progress on the universe creation aspect - but that's not the same as writing either.

Sigh.

And here I am. I have a couple hours to myself, the first all weekend, and I spend it wanking.

Grape Advibe

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FjhOBiSk8Gg

sigh, hate to do it but...

I've made an insane journal.

hermit9.insanejournal.com

anybody over there?

Jeff Foxworthy's You Might be a Taoist...

The Tao Te Ching
a modern interpretation of Lao Tzu
perpetrated by Ron Hogan
copyright 2002, 2004
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs-NonCommercial License. To view a copy of this license, visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0/
or send a letter to
Creative Commons
559 Nathan Abbott Way
Stanford, CA 94305
USA.
Basically, you can distribute this text all over the place, as long as you always attribute it to me, you don't change a word, and you never charge anybody anything to receive it. But read the license for the full details.
-----
FOREWORD
"Ancient Chinese Secret, Huh?"
In the spring of 1994, I was handed a master's degree in film studies and politely invited not to return to graduate school in the fall. So I went to work at Dutton's, a fantastic indie bookstore in Brentwood, less than a mile from the Simpson condo, but that's another story. Doug, the owner, lets his employees borrow books from the inventory, on the principle that you can sell books better if you know them better, and that's how I discovered the Tao Te Ching (or TTC, as I'll abbreviate it from now on).
Oh, I knew about the book beforehand. I knew it existed, anyway, and I knew it was a classic of Eastern philosophy. But that's all I knew. Not that there's that much to know after that, about all anybody can really say about Lao Tzu is that according to legend, about six centuries before Christ, he got fed up with the royal court's inability to take his advice and decided to leave. Then, the story goes, he was stopped at the Great Wall by a guard who begged him to write down some of his teachings for posterity, and the result was this slim volume. Once I actually started to read the thing, I was hooked. Here was a book that managed to say with clarity what I'd been struggling to figure out about spirituality for several years.
The TTC I found at Dutton's was written by Stephen Mitchell, a version which remains popular nearly twenty years after its original composition. Having read a couple dozen translations since, it's still one of the most accessible versions I've seen, but even then, I found his style a bit too refined, too full of a certain "wisdom of the ancients" flavor. For example, here's how Mitchell starts the first chapter:
"The Tao that can be named
is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name."
At the time, I was newly infatuated with the writing of Quentin Tarantino and David Mamet, so my dream version of a TTC reflected the simplicity and grit of their dialogue:
"If you can talk about it, it ain't Tao.
If it has a name, it's just another thing."
Anyway, I grabbed a couple other translations and started looking at the different ways they expressed the same sentiments--or, as I quickly discovered, how much poetic license Mitchell and other translators were willing to take with the original text. I don't think this necessarily matters all that much; many current English- language versions are by people who don't know Chinese well, if at all, and I can't read or speak it myself. To that extent, then, we're *all* (unless we're fluent in Chinese, that is) at the mercy of, at best, a secondhand understanding of what Lao Tzu said.
Once I thought I had a rough idea what was behind the words, though, I went about rephrasing the chapters in my own voice. My guiding principle was to take out as much of the "poetry" as possible, to make the text sound like dialogue, so the reader could imagine someone telling him or her what Tao's all about. You can't take the "poetry" out completely, because the TTC is always going to have those lines about Tao being an "eternal mystery" and whatnot.
But the beauty of the book isn't in its language, at least not for me--it's in the practical advice Lao Tzu offers us about how to live a productive, meaningful life on a day to day basis. What I wanted to do was to make that advice as clear to a modern American reader as it would have been to the guard who first asked Lao Tzu to write it down.
I worked through the first twenty chapters, then put the rough draft up on my website under a pseudonym I used online back in those days. A bunch of fan mail came in, so I kept plugging away at the text, then my hard drivecollapsed and all my files were completely erased. I was freelancing pretty steadily then, and what little free time I had I spent building my own website, so the TTC went on hold. I got an occasional email asking about the other chapters, and I developed a stock answer. When it was time for me to finish the job, I told people, I would.
Years went by. I'd left LA for San Francisco, then moved up to Seattle, chasing after big dotcom money. It was great for a while, but as Lao Tzu says, "If you give things too much value, you're going to get ripped off." In the middle of the worst of the frustration, I rediscovered the Tao Te Ching, and realized I needed to finish what I started.
I dug out all my old copies of the TTC and went shopping for more versions, some of which were even better than the ones I'd found the first time. Brian Browne Walker's translation comes close to the modern oral quality I was striving for, though his voice is still much more of an "Eastern sage" voice than mine. David Hinton is somewhat more poetic, but I think he does a wonderful job of capturing what Lao Tzu may have actually sounded like to his contemporaries. And Ursula K. LeGuin strikes a balance between the modern and classical voices that gave me a new perspective on Tao; her commentaries on several chapters are enlightening as well.
I wish I could say that I wrote the remaining sixty-one chapters in a hurried creative frenzy, but things took a little longer than I thought. I got distracted by the decision to move to New York City, and though I did get some work done on the book, it was a little over a year later, when (and, yes, I know how cliched this sounds) the planes crashed into the World Trade Center and I realized I'd still been wasting too much of my life on things that didn't pan out. Instead of talking about getting serious about my life, it was time to actually do it. (Living through the following two and a half years has also made me appreciate chapters 30 and 31 a lot more, for reasons that will become readily apparent.)
So here you are--with my own name attached, as thepseudonym has long since fallen away. From a scholar's point of view, this TTC is unfaithful to the original text on more than one occasion, if not in every single line. Case in point: in chapter 20, Lao Tzu didn't exactly say, "Don't spend too much time thinking about stupid shit." For all the liberties I've taken with his words, however, I've made every attempt to stay true to his message, and I hope you'll find something useful in my efforts.
--Ron Hogan
(tao@beatrice.com)
January 2004
-----
PART ONE
TAO (THE WAY)
-----
1.
If you can talk about it,
it ain't Tao.
If it has a name,
it's just another thing.
Tao doesn't have a name.
Names are for ordinary things.
Stop wanting stuff;
it keeps you from seeing what's real.
When you want stuff,
all you see are things.
Those two sentences
mean the same thing.
Figure them out,
and you've got it made.
2.
If something looks beautiful to you,
something else must be ugly.
If something seems good,
something else must seem bad.
You can't have
something without nothing.
If no job is difficult,
then no job is easy.
Some things are up high
because other things are down low.
You know you're listening to music
because it doesn't sound like noise.
All that came first,
so this must be next.
The Masters get the job done
without moving a muscle
and get their point across
without saying a word.
When things around them fall apart,
they stay cool.
They don't own much,
but they use whatever's at hand.
They do the work
without expecting any favors.
When they're done,
they move on to the next job.
That's why their work is so damn good.
3.
If you toss compliments around freely,
people will waste your time
trying to impress you.
If you give things too much value,
you're going to get ripped off.
If you try to please people,
you'll just make them pissed.
The Master leads
by clearing the crap
out of people's heads
and opening their hearts.
He lowers their aspirations
and makes them suck in their guts.
He shows you how to forget
what you know and what you want,
so nobody can push you around.
If you think you've got the answers,
he'll mess with your head.
Stop doing stuff all the time,
and watch what happens.
4.
How much Tao is there?
More than you'll ever need.
Use all you want,
there's plenty more
where that came from.
You can't see Tao, but it's there.
Damned if I know where it came from.
It's just always been around.
5.
Tao's neutral:
it doesn't worry about good or evil.
The Masters are neutral:
they treat everyone the same.
Lao Tzu said Tao is like a bellows:
It's empty,
but it could help set the world on fire.
If you keep using Tao, it works better.
If you keep talking about it,
it won't make any sense.
Be cool.
6.
Tao is an eternal mystery,
and everything starts with Tao.
Everybody has Tao in them.
They just have to use it.
7.
Tao never stops. Why?
Because it isn't trying to accomplish anything.
The Masters hang back.
That's why they're ahead of the game.
They don't hang on to things.
That's how they manage to keep them.
They don't worry
about what they can't control.
That's why they're always satisfied.
8.
"Doing the right thing" is like water.
It's good for all living things,and flows without thinking about where it's going
...just like Tao.
Keep your feet on the ground.
Remember what's important.
Be there when people need you.
Say what you mean.
Be prepared for anything.
Do whatever you can,
whenever it needs doing.
If you don't
compare yourself to others,
nobody can compare to you.
9.
If you drink too much, you get drunk.
The engine won't start
if you're always tinkering with it.
If you hoard wealth,
you fall into its clutches.
If you crave success,
you succumb to failure.
Do what you have to do,
then walk away.
Anything else will drive you nuts.
10.
Can you hold on to your ego
and still stay focused on Tao?
Can you relax your mind and body
and brace yourself for a new life?
Can you check yourself
and see past
what's in front of your eyes?
Can you be a leader
and not try to prove you're in charge?
Can you deal with what's happening
and let it happen?
Can you forget what you know
and understand what's real?
Start a job and see it through.
Have things
without holding on to them.
Do the job
without expectation of reward.
Lead people
without giving orders.
That's the way you do it.
11.
A wheel has spokes,
but it rotates around a hollow center.
A pot is made out of clay or glass,
but you keep things in the space inside.
A house is made of wood or brick,
but you live between the walls.
We work with something,
but we use nothing.
12.
Sight obscures.
Noise deafens.
Desire messes with your heart.
The world messes with your mind.
A Master watches the world
but keeps focused on what's real.
13.
Winning can be just as bad as losing.
Confidence can mess you up
just as much as fear.
What does
"winning can be just as bad as losing" mean?
If you're down,
you might be able to get up.
But if you're up,
you can get knocked down real fast.
Don't worry about the score,
just do what you have to do.
What does
"confidence can mess you up
just as much as fear" mean?
Fear can keep you
from getting the job done,
but confidence
can get you in over your head.
Walk tall, but don't get cocky.
Know your limits,
and nothing can ever hold you back.
Deal with what you can.
The rest will follow.
14.
You can't see Tao,
no matter how hard you look.
You can't hear Tao,
no matter how hard you listen.
You can't hold on to Tao,
no matter how hard you grab.
But it's there.
It's in you, and it's all around you.
Remember that.
15.
The ancient Masters
were damn impressive.
They were deep. Real deep.
Words can't even begin to describe
how deep they were.
You can only talk
about how they acted.
They were careful,
like a man walking on thin ice.
They were cautious,
like a soldier behind enemy lines.
They were polite,
like a guest at a party.
They moved quickly, like melting ice.
They were as plain as a block of wood.
Their minds were as wide as a valley,
and their hearts as clear
as spring water.
Can you wait
for that kind of openness and clarity
before you try to understand the world?
Can you hold still
until events have unfolded
before you do the right thing?
When you act without expectations,
you can accomplish great things.
16.
Keep your head clear.
Stay calm.
Watch
as everything happens around you.
Everything reverts
to its original state,
which was nothing.
And when something becomes nothing,
it gets right with Tao.
If you don't understand that,
you're going to screw up
somewhere down the line.
If you figure it out,
you'll always know what to do.
If you get right with Tao,
you won't be afraid to die,
because you know you will.
17.
When a Master takes charge,
hardly anybody notices.
The next best leader
is obeyed out of love.
After that,
there's the leader obeyed out of fear.
The worst leader is one who is hated.
Trust and respect people.
That's how you earn
their trust and respect.
The Masters don't give orders;
they work with everybody else.
When the job's done,
people are amazed
at what they accomplished.
18.
When people lose touch with Tao,
they start talking about
"righteousness" and "sanctity."
When people forget what's true,
they start talking about
"self-evident truths."
When people have no respect
for one another,
they start talking about
"political correctness"
and "family values."
When the nation is unstable,
people start talking about "patriotism."
19.
Get rid of sanctity.
People will understand the truth
and be happier.
Get rid of morality.
People will respect each other
and do what's right.
Get rid of value and profit.
People will not steal
if they do not desire.
If that's not possible, go to Plan B:
Be simple. Be real.
Do your work as best you can.
Don't think about what you get for it.
Stay focused. Get rid of all your crap.
20.
Don't spend too much time
thinking about stupid shit.
Why should you care
if people agree or disagree with you?
Why should you care
if others find you attractive or not?
Why should you care
about things that worry others?
Call bullshit on all that.
Let other people
get worked up
and try to enjoy themselves.
I'm not going to give myself away.
A baby doesn't know how to smile,
but it's still happy.
Let other people
get excited about stuff.
I'm not going to hang on to anything.
I'm not going to fill my mind with ideas.
I'm not going to get stuck in a rut,
tied down to any one place.
Other people are clever;
I guess I must be stupid.
Other people have goals;
I guess I must be aimless.
Like the wind. Or the waves.
I'm not like other people.
I'm getting right with Tao.
21.
A Master stays focused on Tao.
Nothing else, just Tao.
But you can't pin Tao down--
you can't even see it!
How are you supposed to focus on something like that?
Just remember what Lao Tzu said:
The universe began as a void.
The void fills with images.
Images lead to the creation of objects.
And every object has Tao at its core.
That's the way it's been,
ever since the world began.
How can I be so sure?
I just know.
22.
Learn how to stand still
if you want to go places.
Get on your knees
if you want to stand tall.
If you want wisdom,
empty your mind.
If you want the world,
renounce your riches.
Push yourself until you're exhausted,
and then you'll find your strength.
You can go far
if you don't have anything to carry.
The more you acquire,
the less you can really see.
A Master takes this to heart
and sets an example
for everybody else.
She doesn't show off
so people take notice.
She's not out to prove anything
so people take her at her word.
She doesn't brag about herself
but people know what she's done.
She hasn't got an agenda
but people know what she can do.
She's not out to get anybody
so nobody can get in her way.
"Learn how to stand still
if you want to go places."
That's not as crazy as it sounds.
Get in touch with Tao,
and you'll see what I mean.
23.
When you have nothing to say,
you may as well keep your mouth shut.
The wind and the rain
don't go on forever.
If nature knows enough
to give it a rest sometimes,
so should you.
If you're ready for Tao,
you can live with Tao.
If you're ready to succeed,
you can live with success.
If you're ready to fail,
you can live with failure.
Trust your instincts,
and others will trust you.
24.
Keep your feet firmly planted
unless you want to fall on your face.
Learn how to pace yourself
if you want to get anywhere.
Don't call attention to yourself
if you want people to notice your work.
Nobody respects people
who always have excuses.
Nobody gives credit to people
who always take it.
People who hype themselves
have nothing else to offer.
Think of being in touch with Tao
like eating at a buffet:
Take only what you need.
Save some for everybody else.
25.
Something perfect
has existed forever,
even longer than the universe.
It's a vast, unchanging void.
There's nothing else like it.
It goes on forever and never stops,
and everything else came from it.
I don't know what else to call it
so I'll call it Tao.
What's it like?
I can tell you this much: it's great.
So great that it endures.
Something that endures
goes a long way.
And something that goes a long way
always comes back to the beginning.
Tao's great.
Heaven's great.
Earth's great.
And someone in touch with Tao
is great, too.
Those are the four greatest things
in the universe.

Someone who's in touch with Tao
is in touch with the earth.
The earth is in touch with heaven.
Heaven's in touch with Tao.
Tao's in touch with the way things are.
26.
To be light on your feet,
you need a steady mind.
If your body is active,
your mind should be relaxed.
A Master can travel long distances
and still see everything she owns.
She may be surrounded by beauty
but she isn't caught up in it.
Why run around thoughtlessly?
If you act lightly,
you lose your bearings.
If you act recklessly,
you lose your self-control.
27.
With enough practice,
you could come and go without a trace,
speak without stumbling over words,
do complicated math problems
in your head.
You could build a door with no lock
that nobody could open.
You could tie something down
with no knots,
without even a rope,
and nobody could pry it loose.
Masters have time to help everybody,
and ignore nobody.
They use their resources wisely,
wasting nothing.
Some people call this
"following the light."
Good people teach others
because they have the potential
to be good too.
Brains count for nothing
if you fail to respect your teachers
or to honor the potential in others.
That's one of the most important lessons of Tao.
28.
If you are strong,
but remain sensitive,
power will flow through you.
With that power,
you'll always be right with Tao:
It's like a whole new life.
If you are idealistic,
but stay rooted in reality,
you are an example to others.
Set that example,
and you'll always be right with Tao:
There is no limit to what you can do.
If you are honorable,
but remain humble,
you will see things as they are.
If you see things as they are,
you'll always be right with Tao:
Your life will become simple,
yet full of potential.
Let Tao show you
how to get right with Tao,
so your slightest gesture
can change the world.
29.
Want to take over the world?
Think again.
The world's a holy place.
You can't just fuck around with it.
Those who try to change it destroy it.
Those who try to possess it lose it.
With Tao, you push forward,
or maybe you stay behind.
Sometimes you push yourself,
other times you rest.
Sometimes you're strong,
sometimes you're weak.
Sometimes you're up,
and sometimes you're down.
A Master lives simply,
avoiding extravagance and excess.
30.
Listen up:
If you want to be a leader
who's in touch with Tao,
never use violence
to achieve your goals.
Every act of violence backfires.
An army on the move
leaves a trail of tears,
and a military victory
always lies in ruins.
The Masters do what needs doing
and that's all they do.
Do what you have to do
without arrogance or pride.
Get the job done
and don't brag about it afterwards.
Do what you have to do,
not for your own benefit,
but because it needs to be done.
And don't do it the way
you think it should be done,
do it the way it needs to be done.
The mighty will always lose their power
and any connection
they ever had to Tao.
They will not last long;
if you're not right with Tao,
you might as well be dead.
31.
Weapons are terrible things.
If you want to get right with Tao,
reject weapons.
The Master,
knowing all things came from Tao,
recognizes what he has in common
with his enemies
and always tries to avoid conflict.
But when there is no other choice,
he uses force reluctantly.
He does so with great restraint,
and never celebrates a victory;
to do so would be to rejoice in killing.
A person who would rejoice in killing
has completely lost touch with Tao.
When you win a war,
you preside over a funeral.
Pay your respects to the dead.
32.
Tao is an eternal mystery,
so small you can never take hold of it.
If a leader gets right with Tao,
people will follow him on instinct.
All will be right with the world.
People will do the right thing
without being told.
Everything that comes from Tao
needs a name.
But once everything has its name,
you should make no other distinction between things.
This prevents you
from becoming trapped by them.
Everything in the universe is full of Tao
and leads to Tao,
just like the water in rivers
that flows into oceans.
33.
Knowing things makes you smart,
but knowing yourself makes you wise.
To rule others, you must be powerful,
but to rule yourself,
you must be strong.
If you have only what you need,
you have true wealth.
If you never give up,
you will find a way.
If you stay true to yourself,
you will never be lost.
If you stay alive your whole life,
you've really lived.
34.
Tao flows in all directions.
It's in everything,
but nothing can contain it.
Everything needs Tao,
so Tao provides,
and never expects anything in return.
Everything comes from Tao,
but Tao doesn't call attention to itself.
It wants for nothing.
Think nothing of it.
Everything leads to Tao,
but Tao doesn't call attention to itself.
Pretty impressive, huh?
It doesn't strive for success.
That's why it succeeds.
35.
When you get right with Tao,
everybody wants to be your friend.
When they're around you,
they can relax and enjoy themselves.
People can be easily distracted
by music or good food.
When we try to talk about Tao,
it seems boring by comparison.
It doesn't look like much.
It doesn't sound like much.
But no matter how much you use,
there's still plenty left.
36.
To make something smaller,
you need to appreciate its size.
To make something weaker,
you must recognize its strength.
To get rid of something,
you need to hold it tight.
To take something,
you must give it up entirely.
To put it another way:
Sensitivity and weakness
overcome unfeeling strength.
37.
Tao never does anything
but nothing is left undone.
If our leaders
could get in touch with Tao,
the world would take care of itself.
Even if they wanted
to impose their own ideas,
they'd be drawn back to Tao's
nameless simplicity.
When our lives are that simple,
we want for nothing.
We can relax,
and the world becomes a better place.
-----
PART TWO
TE (POWER)
-----
38.
People with integrity
don't even think about it.
That's how you can tell
they have integrity.
Other people talk about
how much integrity they have,
when they really don't have much.
If any.
Truly powerful people
don't do anything,
but they get the job done.
Other people are always busy
doing something,
but nothing ever gets done.
When kind people act,
they do so without thinking about it.
When the just act,
they're always sure
they're doing the right thing.
But when the righteous act,
and nobody reacts,
they try to force everyone
to do things their way.
If you're not in touch with Tao,
at least you can still have integrity.
If you don't have integrity,
there's always kindness.
If you don't have kindness,
there's always justice.
If you don't have justice,
all you have left is righteousness.
Righteousness is an pale imitation
of true faith and loyalty,
and always leads to trouble.
If you've already made up your mind,
you don't know the first thing about Tao,
and you never will.
The Masters pay attention
to what's beneath the surface.
They'll look at a tree's leaves,
but eat the fruit.
They turn all that down,
so they can accept this.
39.
Since time began,
this is what it's meant
to be in touch with Tao:
Tao made the heavens clear.
Tao made the earth solid.
Tao made our spirits strong.
Tao made the valleys fertile.
Tao gave all living things life.
Tao gave rulers authority.
Without Tao,
the heavens would collapse.
Without Tao,
the earth would crumble.
Without Tao,
our spirits would fade away.
Without Tao,
the valleys would dry up.
Without Tao,
all life would become extinct.
Without Tao,
rulers would stumble and fall.
Humility gives us power.
Our leaders should think of themselves
as insignificant, powerless,
unworthy of their stature.
Isn't that what humility is all about?
Be strong,
but pay no attention to hollow praise.
Don't call attention to yourself.
Don't make a scene.
40.
Tao is always heading
back to where it came from.
Tao advances by not pressing forward.
Things exist because they are.
They are because they once were not.
41.
When a wise person hears about Tao,
he gets right with it.
When an ordinary person
hears about Tao,
he tries to get right with it,
but eventually gives up.
When a fool hears about Tao,
he just laughs and laughs.
If he didn't laugh, it wouldn't be Tao.
Here's what they find so funny:
The path to enlightenment
seems covered in shadows.
The way forward
feels like taking a step back.
The easiest path seems difficult.
Those with the most virtue
seem debased.
Those who are most pure
seem to be grubby and soiled.
The deepest thoughts appear shallow.
The greatest strength
looks like weakness.
What is most real
strikes us as imaginary.
The largest space has no boundaries.
The greatest talent
seems to produce nothing.
The greatest voice is unhearable.
The greatest beauty is invisible.
Tao is hidden to us
and it has no name.
It is the source and the strength of all things.
42.
Chapter 42 starts out
with some cosmic mumbo-jumbo
about Tao making one,
one making two,
two making three,
and three making everything else.
I don't know what it means,
and, frankly,
I wouldn't worry about it too much.
Let's get to the practical part:
Men hate to be called
powerless, insignificant, or unworthy,
but that's how
Masters describe themselves.
Because when we lose, we've won.
And when we succeed, we've failed.
Other people will tell you
what I'm telling you now:
"Live by the sword, die by the sword."
That's pretty much what Chapter 42
boils down to.
(See Chapter 46 for more details.)
43.
The softest force in the universe
can overcome the hardest of objects.
Something without substance
can pass through the space between atoms.
That's how I know
about the power of doing nothing.
The silent teachings
and the power of doing nothing
can only be understood
by a few people.
44.
What's more important,
fame or your well-being?
What's worth more,
your money or your life?
What is more dangerous,
winning or losing?
If you are too attached
to your possessions,
they will bring you misery.
If you hang on to your riches,
you will suffer substantial loss.
If you know when you have enough,
you will never be disgraced.
If you practice moderation,
you can stay out of trouble.
And that's the secret to lasting success.
45.
The greatest achievements
may look like mistakes,
but you will always be able
to build upon them.
The fullest reserves may seem empty,
but you will always be able
to draw upon them.
The straightest line looks crooked.
The most skilled people
come off as clumsy.
The most eloquent people
are usually silent.
When it's cold,
you can move around to stay warm.
When it's hot,
you should keep still and stay cool.
But whatever the weather,
if you stay calm,
the world will sort itself out around you.
46.
"When the world is right with Tao,"
Lao Tzu said,
"horses haul fertilizer to the fields.
When the world loses touch with Tao,
horses are trained for cavalry."
Nothing is more insidious than possession.
Nothing is more dangerous than desire.
Nothing is more disastrous than greed.
If you know when enough is enough,
you will always have enough.
47.
You don't have to leave your room
to understand what's happening in the world.
You don't have to look out the window
to appreciate the beauty of heaven.
The farther you wander,
the less you know.
The Masters don't wander around
They know.
They don't just look.
They understand.
They don't do anything,
but the work gets done.
48.
Usually,
we try to learn something new every day.
But if we want to get right with Tao,
we have to let go of something every day.
We do less and less,
until we end up doing nothing.
And it's when we do nothing
that we get the job done.
Let events take their course,
and everything will turn out
in your favor.
If you act on your ambitions,
they will never pan out.
49.
The Masters
don't make up their minds.
They turn their thoughts
to other people.
They are good to good people,
and they're good to bad people.
This is real goodness.
They have faith in the faithful,
and they have faith in the unfaithful.
This is real faith.
A Master throws himself
into the world completely,
forgetting everything he's been told.
People pay attention to him
because he lives a life of child-like wonder.
50.
People who look
for the secret of long life
wind up dead.
Their bodies are the focus of their lives
and the source of their death,
because they think a healthy body
is all there is to life.
Lao Tzu used to say
a man who truly understood life
could walk through the jungle
without fear
or across a battlefield
without armor, totally unarmed.
Wild animals and weapons couldn't kill him.
I know, I know:
what the hell does that mean?
"Well, he couldn't be killed,"
Lao Tzu said,
"because his body
wasn't where he kept his death."
51.
Tao is the source of all living things,
and they are nourished
by Tao's power.
They are influenced
by the other living things around them,
and they are shaped
by their circumstances.
Everything respects Tao
and honors its power.
That's just the way it is.
Tao gives life to all things,
and its power watches out for them,
cares for them, helps them grow,
protects them, and comforts them.
Create something
without holding on to it.
Do the work
without expecting credit for it.
Lead people
without giving them orders.
That's the secret of the power of Tao.
52.
Everything starts with Tao,
the mother of all things.
If you know the mother,
you know the children.
If you know the children
and remember the mother,
you have nothing to fear in your life.
Shut your mouth and keep still,
and your life will be full of happiness.
If you talk all the time,
always doing something,
your life will be hopeless.
It takes insight to see subtlety.
It takes strength
to yield gently to force.
Use that strength
to hang on to your insight,
and you will always be at peace.
That's how to get right with Tao.
53.
If I had any sense,
I'd be trying to get right with Tao,
and the only thing I'd worry about
would be messing up.
It's not that hard to get right with Tao,
but people are easily distracted.
"When the king's palace is full of treasure,"
Lao Tzu said,
"ordinary people's fields
are smothered with weeds,
and the food supplies run out."
Today, you see sharply dressed people
carrying flashy weapons
and living the high life.
They own more
than they could ever use,
let alone need.
They're nothing
but gangsters and crooks.
That's not what Tao's about.
54.
Tao's power is so deeply entrenched
it can never be uprooted.
Tao's power clings so tightly
it can never slip away.
It will endure for generations.
If you get in touch
with the power of Tao,
it will become real.
If your family gets in touch
with the power of Tao,
the power will flourish.
If your community gets in touch
with the power of Tao,
the power will grow even stronger.
If your country gets in touch
with the power of Tao,
the power will become abundant.
If the world gets in touch
with the power of Tao,
the power will be everywhere.
How can I know this?
I just do.
55.
A person filled with the power of Tao
is like a baby boy:
bees can't sting him,
wild beasts can't attack him.
A baby has soft bones
and weak muscles,
but a firm grip.
He hasn't had sex,
but he can get an erection.
That's because he's got lots of energy.
He can cry all day
and never lose his voice.
That's because he's at one with his world.
If you're at one with the world,
you know constancy.
And if you know constancy,
you've been enlightened.
It's not healthy
to try to prolong your life.
It's unnatural to impose the mind's will
upon the body.
People waste time and energy
trying to be strong or beautiful,
and their strength and beauty fade.
They've lost touch with Tao,
and when you lose touch with Tao,
you might as well be dead.
56.
Those who know, don't talk.
Those who talk, don't know.
Shut your mouth.
Be still. Relax.
Let go of your worries.
Stay out of the spotlight.
Be at one with the world
and get right with Tao.
If you get right with Tao,
you won't be worried
about praise or scorn,
about winning or losing,
about honor or disgrace.
That's the way to be.
57.
You can run a country
by sticking to principles,
and you can win a war
with strategy and tactics.
But you can gain the entire world
by doing nothing at all.
How do I know this?
I've seen it happen:
The more restrictions
a nation imposes,
the poorer its people become.
When a nation hoards weapons,
troubles arise from within
and from without.
When its leaders try
to be cunning and clever,
the situation spins
further out of control.
When they try to fix things
by passing more laws,
they only increase the number of outlaws.
A wise leader says to himself:
"I do nothing,
and people transform themselves.
I keep silent,
and they do the right thing
on their own.
I stay out of the way,
and they prosper.
I want for nothing,
and they lead simple lives."
58.
When a nation is ruled
with a light touch,
people lead simple lives.
When a government
is harsh and demanding,
people will spend their time
trying to outsmart it.
Happiness is rooted in misery,
and misery lurks beneath all joy.
Who knows what could happen tomorrow?
Everything is relative;
what's considered proper today
may become improper.
Correct appearances
may hide dishonesty and sinfulness.
No wonder so many people get confused.
The Masters have sharp minds,
not sharp tongues.
They are austere,
but never judgmental.
They are straightforward,
but not provocative.
They are brilliant,
but not flashy.
59.
Leadership is based on moderation.
Practice moderation,
and you'll get in touch
with the power of Tao.
If you get right with Tao,
nothing is impossible.
If you get right with Tao,
there's no limit to what you can do.
If you get right with Tao,
you can be a true leader.
Remember this advice
if you want to be a leader:
Plant deep roots in firm soil.
Get right with Tao,
and you'll always see things clearly.
60.
Being a leader
is like cooking a small fish;
get right with Tao,
and it's quick and easy.
When you're in touch with Tao,
you don't need to worry
about misfortune.
You can't make it go away, of course,
but you can keep it
from harming other people.
Also, as a wise leader,
you cause no harm to others,
so people won't have to worry
about getting hurt,
and they'll take the opportunity
to do the right thing.
61.
Power flows down
to every level of existence
like a river to the ocean.
Victory comes
from lying perfectly still
and waiting for power
to come your way.
If you yield to someone
less powerful than yourself,
you will be in a position
to influence them.
If you submit to someone
more powerful than yourself,
you create an opportunity
to get your own way.
So if you want to get ahead,
lay low and bide your time.
That way, everybody's happy.
62.
Every living thing
gets its strength from Tao.
Good people respect the value of Tao.
The wicked and foolish don't,
but Tao provides for them anyway.
Some people gain power and prestige through fancy words,
others through great deeds.
But Tao is available to everyone,
not just the powerful.
So don't look down on anybody.
When people become powerful,
and everybody lines up
to kiss their ass,
sit still and stay right with Tao.
Why have the Masters
always respected Tao?
Because when you get right with Tao,
you can always find
swhat you need to get by,
and trouble can never find you.
63.
Keep still.
Don't work so hard.
Learn to appreciate everyday life.
Pay attention to details.
Start small and work your way up.
When people give you trouble,
let it slide.
Break everything down to its essentials.
Get the job done
before it becomes a chore.
With the right preparation,
difficult tasks
can be completed with ease;
every major project
consists of simple steps.
The Masters don't take on
more than they can handle,
which is why
they can do just about anything.
Don't promise
more than you can deliver,
and don't underestimate the task:
You'll only make things harder for yourself.
The Masters are always aware
of the difficulties involved,
which is why
they never have to deal with them.
64.
It's easy to maintain balance.
Trouble can be nipped in the bud.
Fragile things break easily,
and small things are easy to lose.
Deal with the situation
before it becomes a problem.
Keep everything straight
so it can't get messed up.
Every tree was once a seed.
Every skyscraper started out
with a shovelful of dirt.
And--stop me if you've heard this one before--
a journey of a thousand miles
begins with a single step.
When you try too hard,
you defeat your own purpose.
Cling to stuff,
and you will suffer loss.
The Masters make no effort,
so they never fail.
They aren't attached to things,
so they never feel loss.
People often screw up
when the job's nearly done.
Pay as much attention
to the finishing touches
as you do to the initial steps,
and you won't screw up like that.
The Masters try to be free from desire.
They don't collect precious things.
They don't cling to any beliefs.
They pay attention
to what everybody else ignores.
They help the world get right with Tao,
but don't try to change a thing.
65.
In ancient times,
leaders who were right with Tao
didn't teach everybody
how to become enlightened.
They kept people's lives simple.
People who know too much
can't be taught anything.
Leaders who try to be clever
always screw things up.
Leaders who keep things simple
always make things right.
If you get that,
you'll understand
the mysterious power of Tao.
That kind of power is so deep,
so extensive,
it penetrates into every level of existence.
66.
An ocean is greater
than the hundred rivers
that flow into it,
and all it does is wait
to receive what they bring.
If you want to teach people,
don't talk down to them.
If you want to lead them,
find out where they want to go.
People love leaders
who make them feel safe
without smothering them.
They'll always support
a leader like that,
and because he doesn't try
to compete with anybody,
nobody is able to compete with him.
67.
Everywhere I go, people tell me,
"Tao is so powerful, so immense,
it's inconceivable!"
But it's only powerful
because it's inconceivable.
If we could wrap our minds around it,
Tao would be just another thing.
The three most important qualities in life
are compassion,
or showing kindness and mercy to others,
moderation,
or knowing what a thing is worth,
and modesty,
or knowing your place in the world.
Courage stems from showing
kindness and mercy to others.
Generosity starts with knowing
what a thing is worth.
True leadership begins with knowing
your place in the world.
But these days,
I see everyone trying to act courageous
without any trace of compassion.
They try to be generous
but they don't practice moderation
in their own lives.
They act like leaders,
but they have no sense of modesty.
No good can come of this.
If you want to get ahead,
show people compassion.
When other people attack you,
defend yourself with compassion.
It's the most powerful force in the universe.
68.
A true warrior never uses force
with an attitude of pride or anger.
A true victor
does not pursue vengeance.
A true leader shows humility.
This is the power of modesty.
It's the best way to deal with people.
It's always been an excellent way
to get right with Tao.
69.
There's an old military saying:
"I'd rather face an attack
than have to make one.
I'd rather retreat a foot
than try to advance an inch."
That's the secret to moving forward
while staying put,
preparing for battle
without revealing your strength.
When you defend yourself
without any show of force,
you give your opponent
nothing to fight.
Attacking an enemy
you've underestimated
is a costly mistake.
When two forces oppose each other,
the winner is the one most reluctant to fight.
70.
Lao Tzu's advice
was easy to understand
and easy to follow.
But nobody understood him
or did what he suggested.
His words
stemmed from ancient wisdom,
and his actions were highly disciplined.
People didn't get that,
which is why
they didn't understand him.
And the less they understood him,
the more meaningful his advice became.
That's why the Masters live simply,
hiding their wisdom deep within themselves.
71.
If you know
what you don't know,
you're doing great.
If you don't know
what you don't know,
you're sick.
The only way
to get rid of that sickness
is to be sick of it.
The Masters aren't sick,
because they got sick of being sick.
72.
When you show no fear at all,
the universe gives you something
to really be afraid of.
Don't try to fence people in
or grind them down.
Just let them be,
and they'll always be on your side.
The Masters know themselves,
but they don't reveal themselves.
They love themselves,
but they know
what their lives are worth.
They let go of all that
to concentrate on this.
73.
Those who dare to be bold die.
Those who dare to be careful survive.
So--what do you want to do?
Why is life like that, you ask?
I don't know.
This is how Tao works:
It doesn't push itself,
and it always succeeds.
It acts silently, and it always reacts.
It can't be summoned;
it comes whenever it's ready.
It can't be rushed; it's always on time.
"Heaven casts a wide net,
with big holes,"
Lao Tzu used to say,
"but nothing ever gets by it."
74.
If people's lives suck,
and they look forward to death,
what good does it do
to threaten to kill them?
If people are afraid to die,
and the wicked are condemned to death,
then who would dare to commit evil?
But that doesn't mean you or I
can just take life and death
into our own hands.
That'd be like walking up
to an industrial buzzsaw
and trying to use it
without any training.
We'd only end up hurting ourselves.
75.
People starve
because the government
taxes them to death.
People rebel
because the government
tries to run their lives.
People act like life is meaningless
because the government
takes everything they have.
People who know how to enjoy life
are wiser than people who value their lives.
76.
A baby's body is soft and gentle.
A corpse is hard and stiff.
Plants and trees are tender
and full of sap.
Dead leaves are brittle and dry.
If you are rigid and unyielding,
you might as well be dead.
If you are soft and flexible,
you are truly alive.
Soldiers trained to fight to the death will die.
A tree that cannot bend with the wind
will snap.
Here's a useful saying:
The harder they come,
the harder they fall.
Here's another:
The meek shall inherit the earth.
77.
Lao Tzu said using Tao
was like pulling on a bowstring:
The top bends down,
the bottom bends up,
and all the energy
is focused in the middle.
Tao takes energy from where it is,
and sends it where it needs to be.
But most people take from those
who don't have enough,
so those who have too much already
can have more.
So who in this world
is truly generous to others?
People who are in touch with Tao.
They do their work
without taking credit.
They get the job done and move on.
They aren't interested in showing off.
78.
Nothing is softer
or more yielding
than water.
Yet, given time,
it can erode even the hardest stone.
That's how the weak
can defeat the strong,
and the supple
can win out over the stiff.
Everybody knows it.
So why don't we apply it to our own lives?
Lao Tzu used to say:
"Take on people's problems,
and you can be their leader.
Deal with the world's problems,
and you'll be a Master."
Sometimes the truth makes no sense.
79.
Sometimes,
when an argument is settled,
feelings of resentment still remain
on either side.
What's the point of carrying a grudge?
The Masters care
about what they owe other people,
not what other people owe them.
People who are in touch with Tao
do their duty.
People who aren't
try to force others into submission.
Tao doesn't play favorites.
But if you do right by Tao,
Tao will do right by you.
80.
Lao Tzu had a dream
about a small country
with very few people.
They didn't need machines
to get their work done faster.
They took their lives seriously,
and stayed close to home.
They may have owned
boats and carriages,
but they never went anywhere.
They may have owned weapons,
but they kept those weapons
locked up, securely hidden.
They had so few responsibilities,
they never had to make a To-Do list
to remember what had to be done.
They enjoyed simple foods,
dressed plainly,
lived comfortably,
and kept their traditions alive.
And even though
their neighbors were so close
they could hear
the dogs barking at night,
they had no interest
in leaving their homes,
where they grew old peacefully
and died.
81.
The truth isn't flashy.
Flashy words aren't true.
Educated people
aren't always smart.
Smart people
don't always have an education.
Good people don't argue.
People who argue aren't good.
The Masters don't hang on to things.
They're always doing something
for other people,
so they always have more to give.
They give away
whatever they have,
so what they have is worth more.
If you want to get right with Tao,
help other people, don't hurt them.
The Masters always work with people,
never against them.
-----
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How do you get 1,000 stray dogs to walk into a fire?

Force.

How do you do something low, base, patently wrong, and then get someone else to pay for it?

The same.

Consider the governments of two powerful nations collaborating on a project to remove 1,000 people from their homes, dumping them on the shores of someone else's country and damning them to poverty, then when the cover-up unraveled, those governments got its subjects, its taxpayers to come up with the reparations as well as the legal fees granted to those people to challenge the government in court.

http://www.granta.com/extracts/1225

And we just let it go. We accept it as inevitable that the people in power do horrible things and we are meant to pay for it.