every breath you take
[Excerpt from my new whumpy one shot about Sloan creepiness and Garashir sap. Non-con voyeurism. M-rated.]
Julian blinked blearily, unimpressed. He hated how condescending Sloan's tone was as he admonished him.
“You are supposed to report all changes in your relationship status to me promptly. Section 31—”
“I don’t work for Section 31.” He rolled over and put his pillow over his head pointedly. Why did Sloan always show up in the middle of the night? And how did he always bypass the security systems on the station without tripping any alarms?
Sloan walked up next to the bed. Julian tried to ignore him despite being acutely aware of his presence, but that became no longer an option when Sloan pried the pillow off of him and dropped it to the floor. Julian glared at him, and sat up.
“Regardless,” Sloan said with a thin smile, “you have worked with us in the past.”
Julian groaned. The mistake of agreeing to help Sloan at that conference on Romulus was truly the gift that kept on giving.
“I don’t see why that entitles you to details of my personal life.”
“You and anyone you… associate with might be seen as a target for enemies of our organization. Not to mention that your partners themselves might merely be cozying up to you to get access to Section 31. So we need to know about your lovers to accurately assess all of these potential risks.”
(Go here to ao3 to read the rest.)
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Sloan: You should betray your ‘Do No Harm’ ideals for the greater good
Bashir: okay
*kidnaps Sloan so he can mindprobe him for a cure, and then mindprobes his dying body*
Sloan:
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🔫 Elim Garak/Luther Sloan
2374, Starbase 375
As accounted for, Garak was already sitting upright in bed and aiming a phaser Sloan’s way. A Bamarren-trained operative would certainly recognize someone transporting into their space.
“You know this room is bugged, Garak. You wouldn’t be able to cover up a murder before security got here.”
“What do you want?”
“To talk.” Sloan glanced over to the nearby chair. Making a decision, he walked to the foot of the bed and took a seat on its corner.
Garak didn’t reply.
“I know Starfleet has appreciated your cooperation thus far. I’m sorry your people are facing such a difficult situation.”
Sloan’s attention caught on the metallic glint of the phaser moving in his periphery. Garak shifted his legs back as he leaned to set it on the side table. He then got up to his knees, the blanket falling off and down into a crumple in front of him. He was wearing a dark, soft looking shirt and trousers.
“Of course,” Garak said. He reached out.
Something flinched—quick and deep in Sloan’s chest. But he knew his odds, and the hand that touched the side of his neck didn’t hurt. It was the firm press of a warm palm.
Garak moved closer, putting his other hand on Sloan’s shoulder and turning him.
There was a brush of lips at his throat, breath against his skin. He felt Garak’s whisper.
“We can talk later.”
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You knnnoowww I gotta go for the 🤫 ;)
nightmare
[rated E so most of it's going under the cut, ~500 words, Sloan/Bashir]
[content warnings: non-con, somnophilia]
(ao3 link)
(link to ds9 rarepair ficlet game) (new requests currently closed)
Sloan beamed down into the darkness of Bashir’s quarters silently. He held still on arrival, waiting for any sign that he’d been noticed, but Bashir’s soft snores went on uninterrupted. Sloan curled his lips, pleased with himself.
There was no mission, no urgency. This was just a check-in. A periodic reminder to Bashir that Section 31 hadn’t forgotten about him.
As he made to settle in and wait for his target to wake, he cast his gaze over the sleeping silhouette again. Bashir’s boxers were tented, his arousal unmistakable.
Sloan stepped closer, more tempted than an agent of his tenure should be. But it had been so long, and there had always been something particularly captivating about Bashir. He wondered if he could touch him so lightly that he wouldn’t even wake. If caught, he could always say that he was searching him for listening devices…
Bashir stirred when Sloan ran his fingers over his thigh, then his cock.
“Mmm, hello,” Bashir smiled, blinking blearily into the dark once or twice before closing his eyes again. “Feels nice.”
Bashir rolled his hips, thrusting lazily against Sloan’s hand just once before letting gravity drop him back into the mattress again.
Sloan stroked him through the thin fabric, marveling at the fact that Bashir wasn’t pulling away. The feeling of Bashir fully hardening under his touch and the soft moans spilling from his lips began making Sloan’s own cock strain futilely against his leather pants.
Bashir pushed his waistband down impatiently and Sloan took him in hand again, spreading precum down from his weeping tip.
Bashir sighed. “I love it when you wake me up like this.”
Sloan blinked.
The words clearly weren’t for him. The darkness had kept his face hidden, but Bashir was used to this from someone else.
It was a welcome wake-up call, a reminder to keep his wits about him and remember why he was here. Without missing a beat, so to speak, he surreptitiously made sure that he was prepared to escape at any moment.
“Fuck, Garak—” Bashir groaned under his touch. Sloan would have preferred his own name but he still found the stolen praise gratifying. “That’s good— Oh, not so hard— Yes— I love— Oh—“
He continued pumping until Bashir was begging for release between expressions of affection. A final stroke and Bashir spurted all over Sloan’s hand. Sloan brought his fingers to his lips and began licking them, reveling in the taste of his essence.
“Oh, that was great,” Bashir panted contentedly, seeming much more awake now. He propped himself up on his pillow. “Your skin felt different though, do you have a new moisturizer or…”
Bashir fell dead silent the moment he flicked the lights on.
“Sloan.” Shock and disgust and outrage radiated off of him in waves. Fuck, he looked so beautiful like this, more beautiful than could be believed. The betrayal in his eyes, the hurt twisting his lips...
But there was no time to admire the view. Sloan hesitated only for the time it took for him to smirk smugly around the fingers still in his mouth before activating the beam-out protocol. He held Bashir’s livid gaze until he’d faded from view.
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