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“Don’t,” came Garak’s flat admonition from beside the shadowed begonia and Julian startled, blustering a melodic curse he’d gleaned from his mother long before he could speak.
“Heavens! I wasn’t going to!”
“Weren’t you?”
“Darling, when would I ever…”
Shit, last Tuesday! So drained from the match with Miles he’d nearly puddled his dripping corpus onto his lover’s prized blue fainting couch, an offense he’d never ordinarily commit, would’ve been just that once, but more importantly he hadn’t because “Don’t,” had come Garak’s flat admonition from beside—
“Wait, you weren’t here yet!”
“Quite correct, it was now I was here.”