Title: Cleave To Thy Master 
Author: Ainzfern 
Series: DS9-M/U 
Codes: Sloan/MU Garak 
Rating: NC-17 (M/M - Violence - NON CONS) 

Disclaimer: Paramount owns STAR TREK ... etc and so on 
and so forth! My only pay here is personal joy. 

Summary: Sloan enters the Alternate Universe bound on a 
secret mission to neutralize a potential threat against 
the Federation. 

Archiving:  Certainly- if you want to- please let me know. 

Feedback: Yes please! All comments welcome.

Author's Note: This is a re-work of an earlier post
to the board. Mostly in the second part. Following
Kristin's feedback, I felt that a little more fleshing out
was definitely required. This is the result... HUGE thanks
to Kristin for her BETA on this revised version and also
for giving me the inspiration to have another go!

*    *    *

Cleave To Thy Master


Kneeling in the center of a dank little cell, wrists
securely bound behind his back, Agent Sloan raised his
battered face and assessed his surroundings. 

If he was bothered by his injuries, or the dreadful stench
of excrement and fear that still clung to this room, he
didn't show it. Instead, the square jawed face displayed
nothing but a kind of calm, grim determination. 

He'd been in worse places. He was still alive. He still
had a chance of success. That was all he needed to know.

Beyond the barred door, the guards watched him with
contempt. A Bajoran and a Cardassian. Sloan still couldn't
quite get past the oddness of seeing them together as
comrades in arms. They were laughing at him, taking turns
to spit insults through the bars.

...He was unbelievably stupid, even for a human! He had
come out of the wormhole and just waited to be picked up!
He was a coward, a dumb animal! Too afraid to fight, too
stupid to flee...

Sloan ignored them, continuing with the observation of his
current lodgings.

Listening to a few of the choicer insults, Sloan nearly
smiled. The natural arrogance of his enemies was bound to
work in his favor. Not even for a moment had anyone assumed
that he'd LET himself be caught.

There was a threat against the Federation here. Section 31
had paid very careful attention to this dark Mirror
Universe since they had first picked up indications of it.
The threat had to be neutralized. The power behind this
Terok Nor had to be brought down. A dangerous mission with
little chance of success.

Sloan had volunteered. He was very loyal.

It wasn't Intendant Kira, despite the way she displayed
her power over life and death here like some kind of parlor
trick. Overall, she was incredibly petty and totally
absorbed in her own excesses. She was a vicious empty-
headed sensualist with delusions of grandeur. She played
the goddess in her own little realm. She was obvious.
Obvious in her weaknesses, displaying them publicly as if
they were a badge of honor.

Sloan had already dismissed her.

He was after the real power in Terok Nor. The one that
pulled the strings and operated this part of the Alliance
from behind the Intendant's face.

The First Officer. If a threat against the Federation was
in the planning, HE would orchestrate it.

Careful investigations had revealed a small chink in the
cold, ruthless second-in-command's armor. He DID have his
little aberrations, just as the Intendant did. But unlike
her, he kept his diversions private, behind the closed
doors of his luxurious quarters.

So there it was...a vulnerability.

Now all Sloan had to do was find a way to exploit it.

A harsh voice pulled him out of his musing. "Hey! Little
Vole!  Human!" 

The Bajoran guard was speaking to him. "Whyd'ya come here
anyway huh? Why didn't you stay on the other side...where
human's are allowed off the leash!"

His Cardassian colleague snorted with derisive laughter.

Sloan looked at them, face expressionless. "I have come
here to kill the Intendant, Kira Nerys." 

*** 

"Not perhaps, the wisest thing a man in your position
could have said."

The urbane voice brought Sloan instantly out of his light
doze.

//Yes!// He exulted privately.

"First Officer Garak, I presume?" Sloan said politely.

The Cardassian looked amused as he entered the cell.
"Indeed...You were perhaps expecting the Intendant?"

"No," Sloan told him. "They'd hardly bother her with the
idle threat of a human, would they?"

"What made you so sure that this...threat of yours would
interest me?" Garak was openly smiling now, cold eyes
glinting in the dim light.

"Because you take your job very seriously."

"Hmm." Garak stared thoughtfully at him. "It would seem
that you know something of me, Human. I don't know that I
like that very much...I also don't like the fact that you
aren't all you seem to be."

Sloan waited.

"Your shuttle..." Garak continued. "Its memory banks wiped
themselves clean as soon as our technicians attempted to
access them."

"I know."

"Why?" Garak's voice was still low, but it now held a
dangerous undertone. Sloan would have to watch his step
very carefully here.

"So that you couldn't track my superiors." Sloan answered
honestly. "Certain, shall we say...regressive members of
our Government would object very strongly to my being here."

"Why did your superiors send you?"

"To talk to you. To present a proposal," Sloan answered.
It was a delicate mix he used, part lie, part truth. If he
got it right, then hopefully the whole lot would be
swallowed.

Garak's face flashed back to amusement. "To open a
dialogue?" He exclaimed delightedly. "Then your death
threat against the Intendant…?"

"A lie," Sloan admitted. "I only said that to get you down
here."

Immediately, the First Officer's eyes narrowed
dangerously. It was clear that he very much disliked being
manipulated.

//Easy, Sloan. Too brash...pull it down a bit.// He told
himself.

"I apologize for the ruse, First Officer. But my ultimate
goal has benefits for us both." He rushed on, giving a fair
impression of suitable contrition.

Garak took a step closer, looking down at him. Again he
smiled, but those glittering eyes remained hard.

"Tell me," he murmured, "Why did you not wish to deal
directly with the Intendant? Surely this... excellent
proposal of yours should be directed to her?"

Sloan smiled slightly.

//All right... Go for broke.//

"Because you and I both know she's an idiot."

Without warning, Garak backhanded the Human across the
face. Sloan had seen the blow coming, but with his hands
securely tethered he was unable to brace himself. He fell
heavily sideways, his ears ringing and blood streaming from
his re-split lip.

Instantly, Garak was on him, grabbing his shoulders and
pushing him down into the damp floor while his tortured
arms screamed.

"Impertinence will NOT be tolerated, little Human," Garak
hissed at him, wild eyes flashing. "You will learn that it
is not the place of a low creature like you to pass comment
on your betters!"

With a little shove, Garak released him and stood up,
brushing off his hands with distaste. Then quietly, he
added, "Even if our opinions happen to concur." 

The amusement was back in his eyes. Sloan's remark had
obviously tickled him.

He turned away and addressed the guards. "Clean him up and
have him delivered to my quarters," he ordered. Then,
without further comment, he left.

On the floor, face down in the muck, Agent Sloan allowed
himself a small smile.

"Bingo," he whispered.

*** 

Shortly thereafter, he found himself being firmly pushed
through the doors of First Officer Garak's opulent
quarters. It was fairly evident from the haste with which
he had been stripped, cleaned, patched up and re-dressed,
that an order from the Second in Command was followed
without hesitation.

Garak was obviously a man used to having his own way.
Somehow, no matter what transpired from now on, Sloan knew
he would have to keep some kind of advantage. If he lost
his edge - he would fail.

Standing in the middle of the large room, he slowly turned
in place, scanning the details, committing them to memory. 
Everything here bespoke richness and luxury. The rugs were
plush, the bed was soft and piled with plump cushions, the
drapes and wall hangings were velvet swathes of vivid
color. This was a room designed for seduction.

"Searching for a way out, little Human?" Garak's voice
came from behind him.

Sloan started slightly, but quickly recovered.

"No." he replied, "Just admiring your taste."

Garak chuckled. It was not an entirely pleasant sound. He
had discarded his armored breastplate but still wore the
tight fitting undershirt and black uniform pants. The
combination showed his powerful body to best advantage.

The odds in the game changed again. For some reason, Sloan
had expected Garak to be slightly soft under his
armor...pampered and spreading through good living. This
was not the case. In front of him was a fully mature,
dominant Cardassian male in his physical prime.

"The proposal I spoke about, First Officer..." he began.

"What is your name?" Garak asked moving into the room,
moving closer to Sloan.

He kept his eyes on the Cardassian's movements. "Luther." 

"Well...Luther," Garak replied, eyes again coldly
assessing, "I didn't bring you up here to talk about
proposals."

Garak was circling him now, body taut and ready, feet
silently pressing onto the floor with each slow and
deliberate step.

Forced to turn around in order to keep his eyes on him,
for a crazed moment, Sloan bit back a bark of laughter.

//My God...He's STALKING me! //  

"You see, my little human," Garak continued, "You came
here and surrendered yourself, which effectively means that
you are now the property of this station. And as you and I
both agreed earlier, I run the station... So you now belong
to me."

Sloan swallowed thickly.  //You knew this was the
drill...so deal with it! //  

"One question?" 

Garak paused in his prowling movements and waited.

"Why have me?"

Garak laughed softly, his face beaming, delighted - a
joyful silver demon. "Because you intrigue me, my pet!
Because unlike those poor passive little wretches that I'm
normally forced to keep, you still have your spirit.
Because you represent a challenge, and mostly,
because...I...can!"

Garak tensed to spring, but it was Sloan who moved first,
propelling himself shoulder first into the Cardassian's
chest.

To his credit, Sloan did manage to get a few good blows in
before Garak, with apparently little effort, lashed out
with snake-like speed, sending him reeling backwards. As he
struggled to regain his balance, he was struck again. This
time Garak's open palm caught him under the jaw, snapping
his head back and throwing him against the bulkhead at the
rear of the room.

Before he was even able to draw another breath, Garak was
on him. Gripping him painfully by the upper arms, he held
him tightly up against the bulkhead.

"I simply cannot fathom why you are wasting your energy
trying to fight me, little pet," he told the gasping human
in a tone that was warm, even affectionate. "The end result
will be the same."

Sloan panted. "You think?..."

With a laugh, Garak turned and hurled the human across to
the bed. His legs struck the edge of it, and he fell
backwards onto the huge pile of cushions. As he struggled
to sit upright, the Cardassian lunged, grabbing him under
the thighs and roughly jerking him forward so that his hips
rested on the edge of the bed. Then he bent down over him,
one arm on either side of his head, his bulk effectively
trapping the human under him.

Sloan's' mind was working double time as he looked into
those gleeful, predatory blue eyes. He had to salvage
something, anything! It was fairly clear what was going to
happen. Now it was vital, that at least in Sloan's mind,
Garak understood that this would not break him - that he
was still capable of dictating some of the terms.

Mistaking his stillness as passivity, Garak smiled. "Good
boy," he purred at him as if praising a young pup. Quickly,
he unbuckled the front of his uniform pants and yanked them
open, revealing his hard glistening sex. "You'll find that
I can be very generous when the mood takes me. Your life
here doesn't have to be unpleasant. Good behavior is always
rewarded."

As Garak reached down to remove his rough, shapeless
prison clothing, Sloan made his move.

Without warning, he reared up, grabbing the Cardassian
around the waist. Angling his face to the junction between
Garak's neck and shoulder, he clamped his teeth over the
dark, flaring neck ridge and bit down hard, drawing blood.

Garak roared with arousal and arched backwards, bringing
the human with him, holding his head against that sensitive
area. Then, with another deep growl, he tore Sloan's face
away from his shoulder and, gripping him tightly, bent his
own mouth to his soft neck.

The pain of Garak's reciprocal bite was incredible. Sloan
bit down on hard on his lower lip to stop the pained shout
that threatened to come. He tasted blood, whether his or
Garak's, he didn't know.

The room suddenly spun as Garak flipped him over. He
ripped away his clothing with a single tearing wrench along
the back seam and penetrated him fully with one hard, deep
stroke, big hands holding his hips tightly.

White knuckled and sweating, Sloan's face was a grimace of
silent agony as he braced himself against Garak's
thrusting. He knew that the Cardassian's natural
lubrication would spare him from more severe damage, but
oh...it hurt! He had never been taken like this before and
his shocked body protested the invasion.

Even through the fire in his head, Sloan's cunning mind
continued to work. He had deliberately upped the stakes,
now he must at least try to score a few more points.

Gripping his hands tightly into the bedclothes and damning
the pain, Sloan began slamming himself backwards, meeting
Garak's thrusts.

The audible gasp behind him showed that he'd managed to
surprise his captor. With a surge of triumph, Sloan
increased his movements. As his did so, the burning pain
inside him started to fade. The increase in penetration was
bringing the head of Garak's shaft into repeated contact
with his prostate and in spite of himself, Sloan actually
felt the pleasure starting to build.

Amazingly, he was getting hard. The pain was going, and in
its place only a growing heat remained. Garak's helpless
rhythmic shouts behind him aroused him even further as they
were a clear sign of just how much power he'd won back by
making this move.

It was feeling good now...very good. He was back in
control again. Teeth clenched, Sloan still fought to keep
silent. Biting down hard, not on a scream of pain, but on a
cry of pleasure. His belly tightened, his own sex  rock
hard and weeping slightly.

// Give me your best, you Cardassian bastard!  You think
it hurts? I fucking LIKE it! //

He felt the Cardassian quicken inside him. Heard the ear
shattering roar of his completion. Strong hands lifted his
hips, holding him hard. Deep inside of him Garak's member
pulsed and twitched as he came copiously, emptying himself
in endless spurts.

With a shove, Garak withdrew and sent Sloan sprawling onto
his back across the bed, the human's own quivering sex
still hard and unsatisfied. Panting deeply, he forced
himself to lay still as he glared into Garak's pale blue
eyes.

"You surprise me, pet," Garak remarked amiably as he
refastened his uniform. "You actually seemed to enjoy that!
They usually don't, first time around."

His brilliant eyes flicked down to regard Sloan's solid
erection. "That must be most uncomfortable for you." He
said with mock solicitousness. "Why don't you take care of
it?"

// Fuck you! If you won't do it, then it doesn't get done!
//

Almost as if reading Sloan's thoughts, Garak laughed
softly and shrugged.

"Suit yourself, pet." 

He turned dismissively and walked to the door. Sloan
watched him with blazing eyes. He got halfway across the
room when he suddenly stopped. Standing still for a moment,
he seemed to consider something. The without a word, he
turned back and approached the bed again.

Reaching down between Sloan's legs, he gripped the humans
aching erection and began to pump it firmly. After only a
few strokes from Garak, Sloan's thrumming body peaked. Hips
bucking wildly, he came over the Cardassian's fist in
blissful release. Unable to maintain his inborn self-
control, he flung back his head and shouted as the pleasure
crested over him.

"There..." Garak purred at him, as if well pleased to
finally elicit a sound from the Human. "I told you good
behavior would be rewarded."

Then, with a parting smile, Garak left him again. 

*** 

Sloan awoke when he felt something land on his naked chest
with a soft thump. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he
looked up to see Garak standing over him, a benevolent
smile on his elegantly ridged features.

"I brought you a little something, my pet.  A small token
of my gratitude for your rather...satisfying performance
today."

Sloan sat up and looked down at the plush material which
had slid into his lap. It was a tunic and trousers, deep
blue in color. The fabric was heavy and soft, like crushed
velvet. It was, to be certain, a beautiful outfit.

Slowly, Sloan's hands closed over it, crumpling the fine
fabric in disgusted pride.

// GOOD little human! You have pleased your Master. Here's
a TREAT for you!  If you knew who I am, what I can do, what
I will do... // 

Masking his expression carefully, he looked up into
Garak's waiting face.

"Thank you," he murmured politely. "It's very beautiful."

"Certainly a far more appropriate outfit for you to be
wearing," Garak told him. "You are mine now. I expect you
to dress well."

"Of course." 

As Garak continued with his lecture, detailing how he
expected his new acquisition to behave, Sloan allowed his
thoughts to wander.

Whilst still mouthing the required responses to his new
"master," he spared a brief sad thought for his wife and
family.

They would be well taken care of, he knew. Section 31 was
always very good about things like that. His apparent death
would be conveniently explained with a convincing mock
accident. They would never have to know what really
happened to him. He was profoundly grateful for that.

And Jessica would never know that he'd gloried in Garak's
brutal lovemaking.  He was grateful for that too.

Focusing his attention back to Garak, Sloan put on a
convincing display of appropriate submission, giving the
Cardassian no reason to doubt that his slave was taking in
every word.

He didn't want to anger Garak. He needed to stay on his
good side. He would need to build up enough trust so that
he could start to probe for information. Sloan had to be
sure that the threat against his beloved Federation began
and ended with the First Officer. He knew that his chances
of getting home were next to none. He didn't care. The main
thing was to ensure that if he was to die here, that
Garak's plans were neutralized first.

He would do whatever it took to achieve his goals. The men
and women of Section 31 were nothing if not committed to
the end result.

*** 

As the weeks became months, a kind of defining of roles
was established. Outwardly, it was never questioned that
Sloan was, in all respects, First Officer Garak's personal
body slave. Tucked away in his luxurious prison behind the
locked doors of Garak's quarters, left to his own devices
until his Master came to him again...of course, he spent
those hours plotting, thinking, and projecting.

In private however, the subtle power plays continued.
Sloan could never quite reconcile himself to complete
submission to Garak. A kind of "almost subservience" was
about as close as he could get.

Surprisingly, for his own part, Garak seemed unwilling to
go the final yards to completely break his human's spirit.
The fire he sometimes saw in Sloan's eyes, the little
flashes of anger and rebellion seemed to amuse him.

Garak was, from what he said, not used to a pet that bit
back, and it made things so much more entertaining.

Often, after Garak had finished fucking him, he would draw
back and sit next to the human on the bed. Watching his
tense and unsatisfied slave try to bring himself under some
semblance of control. Then he would talk, running his
fingers almost absently over Sloan's belly and thighs,
occasionally brushing the back of his knuckles up the
twitching erection. Keeping him hard, keeping him wanting.
He would calmly chat to him about all manner of things.
About his day, about his true feelings for the Intendant,
but most importantly about his future plans. About his
ideas for expanding the Alliance.

It was a favorite game of Garak's. To make Sloan wait like
this. Only if he was satisfied that his trembling, silent
little pet had paid sufficiently careful attention would he
reward him. Leaning down swiftly, he would take the human's
throbbing member into his mouth and suck the hell out of
him until he was bucking and screaming.

It was the only time that Sloan WOULD scream for his Master.

Of course what Garak didn't know, was that this act that
he perceived to be just another cruel game of Master and
Slave against the human, was in fact exactly what Sloan had
come here for.

In his arrogance, he assumed that as Sloan lay silently
listening, his breath ragged and heavy, he was only
thinking about his own needs - desperate for release.

But the remote and dispassionate part of Sloan's mind, the
part wholly owned by Section 31, was carefully cataloging
every word his Master said. Indelibly committing them to
memory.

Garak was not always predictable however, as Sloan found
out fairly early during his stay in the First Officer's
quarters.

On random evenings, with no warning at all, Garak would
come roaring into his quarters after another day "watching
the Intendant trifle with life and death," as he put it.

Seeing his slave, he would immediately rush him, viciously
snarling. Slapping his face and tearing at his fine
clothing. Backing the human up against the bulkhead, the
First Officer would glare wildly into Sloan's eyes, his
face filled with hostility and suspicion.

"Who are you?!" 

"Just a minor diplomat, my Master," Sloan would reply
mechanically. He knew by now which way this would go. He
knew his answers meant nothing.

Drawing back his solid arm, Garak would ask him again,
"Who are you?!"

The first blow would rock him on his feet, but Sloan
invariably managed to remain standing. He knew it wouldn't
help him to give in too easily.  Garak respected courage.
Best to keep a little pride while he still could.

"Who are you?!"

Another answer. Another blow to the face, perhaps another
to the body.

"Who are you?!"

He would be held against the bulkhead, feeling the
Cardassian's hot breath hissing against his face, the hands
gripping his upper arms so tightly that deep purple hand
prints would be left behind in the flesh.

"Who are you?!" 

A booted foot connecting with his thigh, sending him
stumbling across the floor, tripping...falling to his knees.

"Who are you?!" 

A solid kick to the ribs. A rough hand twisting into his
hair, hauling him to his feet. Another resounding blow to
the face.

"Who are you?!" 

Blood streaming from his nose. The slick coppery taste of
it in his mouth. Ears ringing, bruised diaphragm struggling
to draw sufficient breath. Almost beyond endurance.

A hot hand clamping around his throat. Blackness seeping
into his vision.

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

Gasping, his ineffective human hands fluttering up the
Cardassian's muscular arm, Sloan would open his swollen
mouth and reply.

"Your slave, my Master."

Only then would Garak desist. Sloan would be pushed
against the wall and left there, crumpled on the floor,
barely conscious.

He had learned to remain where he had been left on these
occasions. If he tried to move too soon, he risked
enflaming the Cardassian's ire again. If he stayed still,
allowing his Master to regain his composure, then he could
be sure it was over with.

After a while, Garak would come to him and gather him up
gently, carrying him to the bed. "Oh, little pet," he would
whisper remorsefully. "What have I done to you? Forgive
me... Forgive me..."

Carefully, Garak would go over every injury with a
regenerator, all the while making soothing sounds of
apology and regret. Smoothing the sandy hair back from
Sloan's sweaty brow.

When all his bruises and scrapes were healed, Garak would
pull him up onto his lap, cradling him tenderly in his
arms. Then, he would reach down between Sloan's legs and
stroke him, over and over until once more the human was
arched back and coming.

In these moments, Sloan loved him. Not because of any kind
of battered spouse syndrome, but because in that instant,
he could understand what motivated him.

He had to admire Garak's technique. The sincerity of his
apologies, his tender ministrations, were just as heartfelt
as the beating that preceded them.

They were methods that Section 31 had applied in their own
interrogation rooms. Never be predictable. Offer kindness
in equal parts to your cruelty. Make the subject love his
torturer. If you could achieve the balance, your subject
would be more inclined to tell you what you wanted to know.
It could even get to the point where they would want to...
just to please you.

Sloan still had the advantage, however. Garak wasn't aware
that his slave knew how this game was played.

Sloan could appreciate how well Garak played it though.
That was the dangerous part. There were times, when Sloan
would be lying across Garak's lap, his body still
shuddering from the pleasure of his orgasm, when he found
he was very close to surrendering to this man. This enemy.
He found that the line between duty and reality was
becoming blurred.

He loved him. He hated him.

He was fighting harder with every day that passed to keep
his duty to Section 31 first and foremost in his mind.

It wasn't easy.

Sloan had begun to see that his Master was a complex man,
made up of many more facets that he had originally
believed. As time progressed, he started to see the more
introspective and driven individual within the First
Officer's temperamental shell.

When he wasn't inclined to playing games with his human
pet, Garak could even be quite pleasant company. Not only
that, once Garak had realized that his slave actually had a
formidable intelligence of his own, he had begun, in his
own way, to seek his counsel.

Usually these conversations would take place after Sloan's
Master had returned to his quarters for the evening. They
took their meal together, Sloan of course feeding Garak's
meal to him in small portions, as was his preference...
more intimate that way. Only when the Cardassian had eaten
his fill would he give his human permission to eat. Chin in
hand, he would watch Sloan with a kind of rapt amusement.

Once the meal was finished, Sloan would clear away the
dishes and stand demurely to one side, awaiting Garak's
orders.

Invariably, the First Officer would take a moment to
simply look at him. Then pushing back his chair, he would
hold out his hand and speak.

"Come to me..."

There would be a subtle timbre in his voice at that
moment. A touch of gentleness that would assure Sloan that
for tonight at least, he was not going to be teased or
tortured.

He would always remind himself, even as he went
unhesitatingly into his Master's arms, that he still had a
job to do. Even as he felt himself being pressed down
gently onto Garak's bed and slowly undressed, he would
focus on keeping a small part of his mind clear. He would
need it afterwards. 

It wasn't easy though.  Garak had a way of leisurely
looking at him, inspecting him really, with a fair amount
of arrogant pride and honest admiration, as he did tonight.
Sloan's own wife had never looked at him this way, nor told
him, as Garak did in that smooth voice, "You are exquisite,
my pet."

And of course, Sloan would be expected to respond to this
compliment with grateful ardor... so he did.

After Garak had finished with this session of giving and
receiving, after their breathing had quieted, after the
echoes of Sloan's helpless, rapturous screaming had died
away... then the real work began.

Sprawled across his Master's chest, with Garak's
fingertips tracing lazy patterns over the smooth, sweat
dampened skin of his back, Sloan would prop his chin on his
hand and wait.

"She vexes me, pet." Garak told him on one such evening.

Sloan didn't need elaboration. "She" was always the
Intendant.

Garak continued, "She vexes me because she has no
consistency. She is far too excessive."

Sloan found Garak's comments somewhat ironic.

Garak heaved a sigh. "It's not as if she doesn't know my
schedule. After all, she's the one who devised it! She
offloads as many of her own duties onto me as she can in
order to spend more time pursuing her `interests' and yet
she still can't focus for any length of time during our
conferences. If we are ever going to consolidate our
position in the Alliance, she'll need to start paying
attention. I abhor wasting my time like that! It leaves me
quite out of sorts." 

It certainly did, Sloan agreed privately, and it was
himself who usually bore the brunt of Garak's displeasure.

"May I speak, my Master?" Sloan asked softly.

The trailing fingers on his back paused. "You may."

"You've said that the Intendant is easily distracted..."

"You're stating the obvious, pet. Don't irritate me." The
Cardassian's voice grew sharp. Sloan's first warning.

He plunged on. If he played this right, his suggestion
would make his task here considerably easier... and avoid
those bizarrely seductive scenes of torture-and-reward.
"What about giving her distractions of your own devising?
Tell her you've arranged a diversion for her following each
conference. With any luck, she'll conform to your time
frame just so she can find out what it is you've done."

Garak grew very still. Sloan could almost hear his mind
working as he digested the words.

"Are you suggesting that I seduce the Intendant of Terok
Nor into behaving herself by offering her TREATS? As if she
were some little Terran lap dog?"

Sloan closed his eyes. //Shit! You went too far!//

Suddenly the First Officer was laughing, virtually crowing
with delight. He hauled Sloan up his chest and ran his
fingers through his tousled hair.

"What a delightful notion, my pet," he purred, "and so
appropriate that it should come from you!"

Sloan relaxed slightly.

"Tell me," Garak said then, fingers lightly caressing him
again, "how is it that you know so much about manipulating
people?"

Sloan answered very carefully. "My former occupation
required a fair amount of political maneuvering. You had to
be good at it if you hoped to move up through the ranks."

Garak suddenly rolled, pinning the human beneath him, his
hands clenching into his hair painfully. "You do realize,
if you EVER try to use those slippery skills of yours
against me, you'll die...don't you?" The Cardassian's pale
eyes blazed at him.

Sloan met his gaze. "I do, my Master." 

Abruptly, the Cardassian's demeanor changed again.
Settling his head comfortably on the human's soft stomach,
he resumed his leisurely stroking. "Tell me about your home
again... where you came from. Tell me about your Earth. I
like to know about you."

So Sloan talked. He talked about his home, about where he
grew up, his first job, what his parents were like. It was
intimate, honest information that seemed to satisfy his
Master's curiosity, and it was harmless information. It
might hurt Sloan to talk about such things, but it did no
damage to Section 31.

He would reminisce endlessly on various aspects of his
life while Garak listened intently, a rapt audience to the
human's memories. Eventually though, the First Officer
would decide he'd heard enough. He would effectively
silence his slave by rolling him over and sliding smoothly
into his body again... all talking over for the duration of
the evening.

Sloan began to wonder just how much more he could take.

When Garak was feeling benevolent, his sexual intensity
was very difficult to resist. There were days when Garak
would lock himself away in his quarters with his human pet
and quite literally smother him with sensual attention.

Hour after hour he would touch and tease Sloan's body.
Skillfully, almost lovingly, coaxing climax after screaming
climax out of him. He seemed endlessly fascinated with the
process, with the human's sensitivity, his artless
responses. He would leave his pet sated and passive, ready
to reciprocate in any form his Master desired.

There were things that Sloan had done to Garak, with
Garak, that he had never dreamed he would do. Acts of
passion and lust that seemed almost animalistic in their
intensity. What was more, he WANTED to do them. He wanted
to hear the Cardassian's cries of pleasure, his roars of
fulfillment. He wanted his Master coming into his body,
into his mouth, over his skin.

And so for nearly six months, Sloan had lived this life.
This strange love filled hate filled enslavement to the
First Officer.  He was a prized possession, a mere lesser
creature. A pretty pet to be both cosseted and disciplined
according to whim.

But the time had come. He knew that the First Officer was
getting dangerously close to winning the game. The thought
terrified him.

Standing in the center of the opulent rooms that had
become his entire world, Sloan drew the memories of
everything that had been done to him here around his heart
like armor.

There could be no regrets. There could be no hesitation.
Sloan would do what he must to protect the Federation and
to serve Section 31.

He would kill his Master.

*** 

The guards found both of them dead the following morning.
Curled up together naked in the First Officer's vast bed.

Cause of death, internal hemorrhaging brought on by a
massive dose of Zetacine, a readily available Cardassian
poison used to control the station's vast Vole population.
It just so happened that Garak had requested extra baits be
laid around the walls and vents of his quarters.
Apparently, his little Human had complained of hearing the
vermin at night.

It hadn't taken a genius to figure out what had happened.

The First Officer's pet had poisoned him. Obviously, he'd
also managed to poison himself too. After all, the Human
animals weren't that bright.

It was a pity though. An execution would have closed the
whole sorry affair properly.

Ah well...

Sloan hadn't accidentally poisoned himself of course.
Section 31 Agents didn't make those kind of mistakes.

They made decisions instead.

Sloan had been particularly responsive to Garak when he
had returned to their rooms that last evening. Feeding him
little morsels of the special delicacies he liked. Pouring
his favorite kanar. Garak had smiled at him and locked his
doors again.

Zetacine was slow acting. It was designed to be taken back
to the nest, giving the most effective coverage.

Every single thing that Garak had eaten or drunk had been
carefully laced with it.

Sloan had passionately seduced his Master in every way
possible, with hands and with mouth. Begging the Cardassian
to mount him as often as he pleased. Encouraging him to
continue even though his backside grew bruised and bloody.
He didn't care. He wanted Garak gasping and thirsty. He
wanted him exhausted. He didn't want him to suffer.

Of course, each time Garak came, him affectionate little
Human would solicitously bring him another glass of sweet
wine with which to quench his parched throat.

Sloan could tell that Garak was pleased. Finally, the
First officer's pet had submitted to him properly. He was
ASKING for his Master's attentions. The victory was sweet,
and plumped his massive ego. He had known it would only be
a matter of time...

Eventually Sloan had sat in the dark watching Garak sleep,
seeing the light sheen of sweat break out over his
ornamented silver skin. Seeing his breathing grow thin and
reedy.

Watching him die.

Now would have been the time to make his escape. He had
all the advantages with him. But...he couldn't go back.

Tonight he had realized. He hadn't been pretending to want
his Master's attentions. Somewhere along the way, at some
indefinable moment, he'd started to need him.

And now he was gone.

Sloan did not weep. Tears were not for men like him. But
his heart was broken, just the same.

Strange...He really ought to have been pleased.

So he made his decision. Mixing up a dose of enough
Zetacine to wipe out a planet of voles, he drank the whole
lot down from the same tainted glass that he had held to
his Master's lips.

Then, slowly he lay down beside him and gathered him
close, resting his head on the broad chest. He fell asleep
to the sound of a faltering Cardassian heartbeat.

In the end, Garak HAD won. 

His human slave had finally given himself utterly over to
him, and would never leave his side.

END