Charles sits against the bathroom sink, white towels soaked with his blood discarded in a crumpled heap next to him. The Medi-gel lays within easy reach, but he isn't done yet. It doesn't hurt enough to let him know he's alive. Bringing the straight razor—the one he stole from his asshole father the day he left home—back to his thigh, he presses the point into his flesh. Digging it in a little before sliding the blade across his skin, fresh blood blossoms in its wake. He bites back a hiss, feeling the sting, but still … it isn't enough. His father's voice echoes in the back of his mind.
"You're a worthless piece of shit, and you'll always be a worthless piece of shit, you goddamn ass-fucker!"
A tear slides down his cheek as he starts a fresh cut, digging the blade in a little deeper, watching the skin part. Blood rolls down his thigh before dripping onto the floor.
"I can't believe you're such a fuck up! Where the hell did I go wrong with you?" His father slaps him in the back of the head, and then, when Charles winces, he hits Charles again—with a closed fist. "Look at you, you're such a pussy. You can't even take a slap, but you can take it up the ass?"
Taking a ragged breath, he moves to the other leg, starting anew. When he is done, he'll clean himself up and slather Medi-gel over the wounds. Most of them won't even leave a scar, and it'll be like it never happened. Like none of it ever happened.
"You know it's your fault your sister's dead." His father scowls at him, words slurring, reeking of whiskey. "If you were a real man, you would've been able to take those guys on … a real man never would've let them get near his flesh and blood."
Charles tries to duck out of the way of the bottle, but he isn't quick enough.
The tears come freely now, pouring down his face in hot waves. There. There it is. He feels it, he is alive.
After a long night at Chora's full of drinking, smoking, fucking dancers, and getting into one hell of a good fight, Ares wants to sit down and take off his damn facial prosthetics. He already told Jasmine goodbye, so he doesn't really feel like going back to her apartment, or facing the fact that he's grown so used to her that he spilled his sob story of a life. The job left Jasmine with a few new holes thanks to their target, but she'd live after a bit of down time. Even better, no one stabbed Ares in the back, literally or figuratively, and he got a good fight out of the whole thing. It did end up leaving him with a shit load of pent up energy, but Chora's worked that out well enough, leaving him a clear enough head to relax, maybe check on another human he met through Assassins Unveiled, Charles Fairclough.
Ares picked up some of the asari noodle shit Charles was so fond of to take to the small apartment the man owns. Luckily, the place had some dextro food and—despite his usual choice of vitamin packed rations of xemna that take less time to eat, stay in his system longer, are cheaper, and just plain routine to him after so many years huddled in the dark eating it from the can—he ordered something similar to Charles' food of limp noodles, albeit with something not liable to fall out of his mouth. He can't stand how noodles apparently call for lips—or even a mouth that can completely close—but he ordered the dish out of ease.
Carrying the bag of containers holding their food, Ares holds his omni-tool over the lock interface and unlocks it with his code. Why Charles just gave him the code when Ares could very well have been out to kill him is still a mystery, but he will take advantage of the bit of stupidity. He can easily hack the lock just as quickly, but it seems to frustrate Charles when Ares does that. Whenever the man is around, Ares uses the code, but that doesn't mean he doesn't keep his skills sharp by encrypting the lock in different ways so he can practice on it later whenever Charles is asleep or away. The human is none the wiser, and, with Ares' interference with the lock, his apartment is even more secure.
Not that there is much to steal in this apartment among the mess, but it will at least keep Charles alive that much longer for him to get his ass out of the apartment if someone comes to kill him. If the idiot human took Ares' advice and scoped out escape routes. He's is not so sure Charles even did.
Ares steps into the apartment, and over the odors of being lived in—and messy, he smells the metallic tang of blood. Grumbling at the thought that the human got his ass killed while Ares wasn't around, he sets the food on the coffee table and follows the scent. It leads him to the bathroom, and he sighs at the human, of all places, getting himself killed in the damn shitter. The door isn't locked, so he hits the open command and finds Charles, alive but bleeding.
At the sound of his entry, Charles looks up to him, and Ares sees both shock and a heavy dose of absence in his eyes. Ares leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, calling out to snap Charles out of whatever obvious memory he is lost in. "Snap out of it," he commands, growling softly to prove that he isn't just saying it for his own benefit.
Charles pulls a towel over his bloody legs, closing the razor and wrapping his fist around it before tucking it in beneath his thigh as he wipes his eyes. "Thanatos … uh, give me a minute. I'll be right out."
Ares grunts, deciding if he should be upset that Charles would think of hiding his self-inflicted injuries, as if Ares isn't observant enough to see them. The fact that the human can't even keep eye contact with him irritates him even more, because he finds no reason to be ashamed of whatever the fuck Charles has chosen to do. As long as he cleans up, Ares lets Charles do whatever the hell he wants. He's far from any position to demand the man change his ways, not when Ares has his own vices.
"Clean yourself up," Ares says as he stands up from the door frame. "I got food, and I'll be pissed if you let it get cold."
Turning away, he lets the door close on anything Charles has to say or do. He doesn't need an explanation, even though it seems to be a human thing to automatically jump into one whenever they think they've been caught doing something that goes against the idea of 'normal'. After all, Ares doesn't really give a shit to know why he does it.
Slitting the bag open with his talon, Ares sits down on the couch, more comfortable than Jasmine's, with the slight wear and lumps he's gotten used to at Charles'. That, and it's closer to the balcony where the fresh—as it can be on a space station—air he often prefers can still waft in, the chill drifting in more comfortable against his plates in comparison to the warmer temperature of the apartment. His spot on the couch even has room where he can stretch his legs since the coffee table isn't as wide as the couch like at her place. Reaching out to search through the boxes for his own food, he hears the shower—louder on this side of the apartment—turn on and water pounding on the shower floor. He rumbles and shakes his head, considering throwing Charles food out if it gets cold just to prove a point.
Ares leans back into the couch as he pops open the lid of his food but growls when he has to bend back down to grab something to eat with. Grumbling to himself about the damn human distracting him as he thinks, Ares grabs what humans call a 'turian fork' and stretches his legs out. He can't really say the liquid—and apparently hidden contents that are supposed to be pieces of louza and some quarian vegetables—looks all that appetizing, but he isn't just going to waste the credits by throwing it out now. Unless Ares wants to have to go out in search of more food, he'll just have to learn to eat the abundantly wet dish.
Shoving his fork into his container in search of something solid to eat, he hears Charles' footsteps as he walks into the living room. Ares glances the man's way, without lifting his head from his food, and rumbles at the smile on Charles' face. If he wants to pretend Ares didn't just walk in on him wasting Medi-gel, so be it, but he better not waste anymore time before eating.
"I got that stupid noodle dish you like." Ares finally manages to spear a large chunk of louza and presses it to his tongue, pulling it off the fork with his mouth plates.
Charles sits on the edge of the couch, his expression carefully controlled, but not good enough for Ares to not see pain tightening the corners of his eyes and pressing his lips into a thin line. Leaning over, he digs through the bag, pulling out the other container and a fork. "Thanks. I didn't know you were on the Citadel. I would've cleaned up."
Ares grunts around his food before tilting his head back to let it slide down his throat. "Aided an associate on a job."
"And by 'associate' you mean another assassin." Charles twirls his fork in the noodles before lifting it to his mouth, that smartass look in his eyes.
"No," Ares said, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "I sell stocks on the side," he responded dryly.
"Hmmm. Any good investment opportunities you want to tell me about?" Charles scoots further back on the couch, throwing his feet up on the table.
Ares watches Charles' feet, wondering why humans find having their feet on furniture so appealing, like he always does every time Charles does it. "Afraid all my work is confidential. Important clients and all that."
Charles makes a rude noise with his lips—he's called it 'blowing a raspberry' once before, but Ares calls it 'spitting all over the place'—and rolls his eyes. "You're so full of shit. How long you sticking around this time?"
Ares shrugs and shoves another bite in his mouth and grimaces at the taste of something definitely not louza. Probably one of those quarian vegetables everyone claims are so good for nutrition, but Ares just sees as a stupid way to get people to pay more money for food. Turians don't have the teeth for vegetables, unless everyone imagines he has some of those flat and useless teeth hidden somewhere in his mouth. Swallowing, he catches Charles looking his way and smirking at Ares' disgust. "Wipe that look off your face. I paid good credits for this, and it's disgusting, so I'm not doing it again. Enjoy it now."
"Normally I'd say to wipe it off for me, but … yeah," Charles says, dragging the word out. "I think you still have some stuff in the kitchen, you know."
"And have my credits go in the disposal?" Ares hums, lifting a brow at Charles in reaction to his foolish insight. "I think I'll eat it and actually get my credits worth."
"If it's that important to you," Charles says, waving his fork at the box in Ares' hands, "I'll pay you to throw it in the trash and eat something else that isn't going to make you look like you just swallowed a sweaty, fat man's load."
Ares blinks at Charles, confused. "What does weight have to do with it?"
Charles laughs and shakes his head. "Just go get something else to eat."
Growling at the command, Ares stands and drops the box on the table, making it slosh some liquid onto the table. Walking into the small kitchen, he opens the cabinet he last had his things in and grabs a can of vitamin rich and densely packed xemna. He doesn't bother with heating it and returns to the couch to grab his fork and shoves it into the meat.
"Maybe add it in there, make it taste better?" Charles' lips twitch up in a grin, seeming amused by Ares' food and irritation.
"And still run the risk of eating that disgusting quarian shit?" Ares said, flicking his mandibles at the fact that he has to state the obvious. If it wasn't for the vegetables being hidden in with his louza, he wouldn't have needed to get the xemna. What would he successfully do by mixing the two?
Charles rolls his eyes. "God I missed your crass personality, oh so much. You're the one who was bitching about wasting credits." He turns his gaze back to his food, stabbing his fork into the noodles. After a moment, a little softer, he added, "I'm glad you stopped by."
Rumbling in interest to Charles' remark, he lifts a brow plate at Charles as he reaches for his container of mostly liquid and dumps the xemna in with a wet plop and splash. "To answer your earlier question, I don't know how long I'll be on the Citadel."
"Well, you know you're welcome to stay here however long you want." Charles sticks another bite into his mouth, but he doesn't look at Ares as he chews. "You're still wearing your fake plates … planning on leaving again tonight?"
"Where was I supposed to take them off? You were in the bathroom, you know," Ares says gruffly as he shoves a piece of louza he found in the liquid into his mouth.
"The kitchen?" Charles shrugs. "The living room? The bedroom?"
Ares flicks his mandible in annoyance at the obvious tone of sarcasm. "Now name a room with a mirror and access to water."
"The first night you came over, you took them off in the kitchen." Charles' gaze flicks over at Ares before returning to his dinner. "Didn't seem like an issue for you then."
Ares sighs, exasperated, and gives Charles back the same tone. "I don't like just ripping them off. First of all, I want to still use them and doing so without releasing the bond would leave the underside of them unable to adhere again. Second, it hurts."
"Oh … I didn't know." Charles sighs, staring into his food for a moment before setting it on the table and goes to the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"
"Get me one of the bottles of water," Ares answers before stabbing a large piece of xemna with his fork and putting it into his mouth.
Coming back with a bottle of water and a bottle of one of those sugary, carbonated drinks the man seems fond of, Charles hands Ares' the water and sits back down. Twisting the cap off his own drink, Charles takes a few swallows and sits the bottle on the table, tossing the cap down next to it. He picks back up his container of noodles and relaxes into the cushions. "So, Thanatos, how's life been since the last time I saw you?"
It has been so long since he was last on the Citadel for an extended amount of time that allowed him to go to Charles' apartment, Ares forgot the man still didn't know his name. The human had gotten close enough to see—and even touch—his scarring, so why not? It isn't like Ares has to be cautious of an attack, because he could easily break the man with his hands. Charles even pretended that Ares—under the username 'ThisGuy800'—reneged on the threats to find him on 'Assassins Unveiled' and keeps their time together completely secret as far as Ares knows.
"Ares," he says, spinning the cap of his drink to break the seal and taking a long drink.
"What?" Charles' brows knit in confusion.
Lowering the bottle once he drains over a third of it, he rumbles softly and looks directly at Charles to make sure he understands this time. "My name's Ares."
A slow smile spreads over Charles' mouth, and he puts his fork back in the container. "Ares," he repeats, his tone almost awed, filled with the kind of affection Ares' witnessed many pairs from all species use in one way or another in shows of intimacy.
Ares isn't quite sure why Charles uses the tone over something so simple as a name, but he often gets weird answers whenever he asks Charles things when the man has that expression on his face. Shrugging, Ares pokes at his food in search of the meat hidden in the darkened liquid. "Good a name as any."
Charles chuckles, picking his fork back up. "So, Ares, how's shit been?"
"Same in terms of contracts, but different in that I was actually the one to offer information for another." Ares pulls a piece of food off his fork with his tongue and swallows. "Never been one for having information, but I can at least provide answers about Blackwatch."
"Blackwatch?" Charles watches him, his head resting against the back of the couch.
"Turian special forces. Their specialty is missions that usually entail espionage and assassinations." Finding another piece of vegetable, he wipes it off on the edge of his container before trying again. He's annoyed to find that he only spears a piece of much the same. "Used to be one many years ago, and I have a contact close enough to know things."
Charles blinks a couple of times, his expression falling flat. "So do all turians do their mandatory assassin training with Blackwatch?" Pausing, he lets the stupid question—hinting back to the idiotic thread on 'Assassins Unveiled'—linger before grinning, and Ares groans in exasperation, only making Charles grin wider. "If you worked for them, why would you give someone else information on them? They fuck you over or something?"
Ares merely looks to Charles with a raised brow plate, wanting to see if the human can figure out what should be obvious.
After a moment of searching Ares' face, Charles' eyebrows start to rise and his jaw drops. "They did that to you." It's not so much a question as a statement, as if he needs to say it outloud for his own benefit.
"Pretty much." Ares leans forward and sets down his container after yet another find of vegetable, figuring he's eaten all the meat. "Used me as a scapegoat. Apparently, I served better as one than I did a soldier." He shrugs. "Had a youngblood do it, too. What an insult."
Charles picks at his food, brow furrowing, smelling almost angry. "Did you kill him?"
Ares rumbles, flicking his good mandible. "Did you ever see a news broadcast about a turian being found in the protein vats, dissolved down to nothing but bones and armor?"
Charles swallows and nods. "Good."
Ares grunts at the response, happy that Charles doesn't ask for more information. He had already lived through it with Jasmine and isn't really ready to do it again without wrapping his hands around someone's neck shortly after.
Too bad Cameric is already dead….
Standing, he grabs his container and takes it to the disposal. He doesn't really have much else to tell Charles about it, but if the man wants to press onto something else, Ares won't protest. He is tired of feeling sorry for himself. That is only a weakness Ares won't let reach the light of day, if he has anything to say about it.
Ares watches Charles as he eats in silence, seemingly deep in thought. Leaning back against the far counter, Ares crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at the man, obviously lost in his own internal shit. That's all fine and everything, but it only makes Ares want a smoke, so he only spends a short time staring at Charles eat before he pushes off from the counter. He doesn't explain where he's going, knowing Charles is at least observant enough to know when Ares is heading for a smoke outside.
Turning his head toward the balcony, Charles catches Ares' trademark flinch when he lights his cigarette. Charles spares a second to wonder why Ares always smokes out on the balcony when he knows he can smoke inside. After a moment, he eases himself from the couch and carries his leftovers to the kitchen, closing the container and sticking it in the refrigerator. Passing back through the living room, he swipes his pack of cigarillos from the top of the speaker, and picks up his bottle of pop, carrying it with him out to the balcony.
Shaking an off-brand cigarillo from the pack, he brushes the bits of tobacco off the filter and puts it in his mouth. Just as he's about to light it, Ares moves, flicking his own lighter, flinching with the flame before holding it out in front of Charles' face. Smiling around the filter, he leans in, using the offered light to get his cigarillo going before stepping back again. He turns, leaning out over the balcony railing and takes a heavy drag, letting the smoke trickle back out of him.
"So, tell me about this associate of yours." Charles takes a drink from the bottle before setting it down on the small table next to him. He knows the question won't get him anywhere, but he just wants to hear the turian talk.
Ares hums as he flicks open and closed the lid of his lighter. "You know I can't tell you anything. Not mine to tell. They wanted information on Blackwatch for a job, but that's all I can tell you."
Charles takes another drag, blowing the smoke out as he speaks. "Yeah." He wonders if Ares was fucking his associate as well as giving them information, but it isn't like it really matters. He guesses it just bothers him, a little bit anyway, that no matter how long they know each other, Ares will never really be able to tell Charles much about his life outside of Charles' apartment. Although, he did say far more tonight than he ever has before.
Ares. Hmm. Another human god. Maybe someday I'll get to hear what his parents named him.
"Well, I hope they paid you good." He takes another drag, watching the glow as more of the cheap tobacco turns to ash. God, he hates it when credits are tight enough to make him smoke the knockoff crap.
Ares blows out the thick smoke his strong cigarettes make. "Revenge against the organization that fucked me over was good enough, if I got to play a hand in the actual kill." He shifts, and Charles feels Ares looking down at him. "They agreed, so I did it for the cost of my travel fare only."
Charles turns his head up at Ares, the soft glow from his cigarette turning his milky eye a little orange. Charles lifts one corner of his mouth, giving Ares his best smartass smirk. "And yet, you're obviously strapped for credits if you're worrying about the cost of your dinner."
"I'm not worried about credits, I was angry for wasting the credits, and the food was shit." Ares huffs. "I'd much rather spend it on something I know I'll like than tossing it into food I don't even like." He takes a long drag, looking out to the Citadel as smoke drifts through the gap between his face and mandibles.
Charles wonders if the turian really doesn't get his humor, thinking him really that daft. He takes a drag of his cigarillo and shakes his head, chuckling to himself. For someone who is such a troll on the extranet, the man sure doesn't have a clue when someone is just fucking with him. Maybe it's just a turian thing. He waits, smoking in silence, wondering if Ares will say anything about what he walked in on. Most people would've lost their shit, coming in and seeing blood all over the place like that. It didn't surprise him the blood didn't bother Ares … but he thought he might have something to say about the cutting. Even if just to call him an idiot. Not that he wants Ares to call him an idiot, hell, he doesn't even really want to talk about it, but … whatever.
"Thanks again, for dinner." Charles glances back up at Ares. "I didn't get the chance to eat lunch today, and by the time I got home, I just didn't feel like fucking with any of it."
Ares hums and blows out a long exhale of smoke. "You're buying the next one."
"Ha, well, if that's the case, expect shit snacks from Citadel Souvenirs." Charles snorts at Ares when his nose plates bunch up in distaste, taking another drag. "At least I get an employee discount."
"I think I'd rather eat rationed xemna," Ares says as he puts the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling.
Charles laughs, moving a little closer to the man as he turns sideways against the railing. "Yeah … so would I."
Ares snorts, the smoke puffing out of his nose before he blows out the rest. "And you'd get the shits, no doubt, but feel free."
"Probably would eating anything considered food that place sells, too." Charles watches the light fluttering of Ares' mandibles as he smokes, wishing he'd go take his fake plates off and relax. They both know he hates the damn things, but so long as he keeps them on, Charles isn't sure if he plans to stay.
As if feeling Charles' gaze, Ares looks down at him and stares back. After a long moment of silence, Ares pockets his lighter and reaches out to grab the cigarillo from between Charles' lips. He lifts an eyebrow, but he doesn't say anything, shifting to put his hip against the railing.
Holding the cigarillo up to his face, Ares examines it before taking an experimental drag, only to gag and offer it right back. "How can you smoke that?"
Charles laughs, shaking his head as he takes the cigarillo, sticking it back between his lips. He shrugs. "They're cheap."
Grunting, Ares takes a drag from his own cigarette before offering it to Charles. He exhales as he watches Charles' face. Hesitant, and just not stupid, Charles takes a slow, small drag from the cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth before carefully breathing it in. The thick smoke stings at his throat, coating his tongue with the foreign taste. It isn't really all that bad, though. He'd probably get used to it, if smoking them on a regular basis didn't do some scary dextro shit like eat away at the inside of his lungs.
He hands the cigarette back, and Ares sticks it in his mouth as Charles lets the smoke trickle back out of him, rolling the flavor over his tongue again. "Not bad."
Rumbling, Ares lowers his mandibles while still holding the cigarette between his mouth plates. After a moment, though, he reaches out and flicks the cigarillo from Charles' lips.
He jerks his head back. "Uh!"
Ares only ignores Charles, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his black box of cigarettes. Flipping it open, he holds it out to Charles in a silent command to take one.
Charles raises an eyebrow. "So rude, even when you're being nice." He smirks, taking one of the black cigarettes. Oh well, he'll probably survive smoking a whole one. Probably. He sticks it between his lips and reaches for his lighter, but again, Ares flicks open his, brushing his thumb over the wheel to spark the flame to life and holds it out to Charles. Stepping closer to light the cigarette, Charles stays there even after the flame is extinguished, refusing to look too closely at his urge to be near Ares.
He never expected Ares to return after the first night, but a few weeks later he showed back up, scaring the shit out of Charles in the middle of the night. Not that Charles complained. He was all too happy to let the turian crawl in bed with him once he realized who the hell he was and what he was doing in Charles' apartment. After that, he started to count the days between Ares' visits … dreading when the day came that Ares grew tired of him and just stopped showing up.
Taking a somewhat deeper drag, Charles pulls the smoke straight into his lungs, turning a little to look out over the Citadel. Ares grunts, the sound almost approving, and Charles lets out a soft snort. "This isn't going to kill me, is it?" he asks, taking another drag to—hopefully—emphasize the fact he's joking.
Ares glances over at him and raises a brow plate. "And yours don't?"
"Nope, I'm used to them." Charles grins. "They put hair on my chest. Granted, I don't leave it there … but, you know, it's manly and shit."
Ares finishes off his cigarette and stamps it out on the railing before sending it flying with a flick of his finger. "I don't get humans and their concepts of what hair means. On a female's head it's okay, but not everywhere on her body. Men, however, cut their head hair short—sometimes off completely—and yet, you say hair on the body is manly." He looks down to Charles. "You people need to get your act straight and stop being so contradicting."
Charles huffs, taking a drag of the cigarette and turns, pressing his back against the rail. "Yeah, well, I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't understand it either."
"Great … you aren't even a help in the matter, then." Turning back to the view, Ares thankfully misses Charles' wince as his gaze flicks over the expanse of the Citadel before him. "Humans are strange, yet interesting in an odd way."
"Right back atcha." Charles hums, thinking about the human gender norms and how they've evolved over time. He glances at Ares when he catches the turian's mandibles twitch out of the corner of his eye, finding the assassin glancing sideways at him. "What? You think turians aren't confusing as all hell to other species, too? Turians, quarians, asari, salarians … the whole lot of you. You don't make much sense to us, either."
Ares hums before pushing off of the railing. "Understood." Turning, he heads inside without another word but thankfully goes towards the bathroom instead of the front door.
Charles stays outside, finishing the black cigarette, watching Ares through the balcony door. A smile spreads over his mouth. After the cigarette burns down low enough to be uncomfortable to hold, Charles stubs it out in the ashtray on the table. Picking up his bottle of pop, he takes a drink and makes his way back inside, closing the balcony door behind him. He settles down on the couch, turning sideways, back against the arm, and pulls his feet up.
When Ares comes out of the bathroom again, not only has he removed his fake plates, but he's changed into the casual-wear, loose-fitting outfit Charles bought for him awhile back. Charles grins, the fact Ares kept the clothes, let alone is actually wearing them stirs something inside of him that he doesn't care to examine. He tilts his head a little, letting his gaze roam the length of the turian, taking in his well-muscled frame.
Ares walks over to the coffee table and picks up his bottle of water, taking a drink. After swallowing, he lifts a brow plate at Charles and flicks his mandible. "What?"
Charles chuckles, shaking his head. "Just … enjoying the sights."
Ares thrums and smirks. "Then I believe the saying is 'take a picture, it lasts longer.'"
"You'd kill me if I did, we both know it." Charles pushes himself up from the couch, setting his bottle of water down and crosses the meter or so between him and Ares. Reaching out, he runs a hand along Ares' forearm and up his shoulder before tugging at the hem of the sleeveless shirt. "It looks good on you."
Ares tilts his head, giving Charles a quizzical look. "It's just clothes," he says as he raises his hand to run the talon of his forefinger along Charles' mouth, the point sharp but not cutting into the skin.
Warmth creeps along Charles' spine at the contact, and he smirks, nipping at the talon. "Maybe. But I like them on you, almost as much as I'd like them off of you."
Ares growls deep in his chest as he runs his talon along Charles' cheek with slightly more pressure than on his lips, and Charles hums, turning his cheek up into the touch. "Did you use all the Medi-gel?"
Racing thoughts slamming to a standstill as quickly as if he'd just been in a skycar accident, Charles swallows, his gaze drifting away from Ares, shame pressing in on him. After a moment, he clears his throat and forces a smile on his face, trying to save the moment. "No," he says and then pauses. "I've always got plenty on hand."
Ares hums, as if in approval, and grips his chin a little rougher. Lifting Charles' face higher, bringing it closer to his, Ares leans down and shoves his tongue in Charles' mouth with unexpected force. Shock fills Charles' mind, freezing him in place for a second. Ares has never … kissing isn't something they did. It only takes the one second for his mind to switch gears, though, and he pushes into Ares, meeting the turian's tongue with his own. Wrapping his fingers around Ares' biceps, he pulls at him, trying to get their bodies closer despite the awkward angle the height difference creates for them.
Ares pushes back, his teeth scraping over Charles' lip, drawing a moan from him. Jesus Christ, he needs to get Ares to the bed. He tugs at the mountain of a man, trying to lead him toward the bedroom, but Ares reaches down, grabbing Charles' ass with both hands and hauls him up. Charles wraps his legs around the turian's waist, throwing his arms over Ares' neck to keep from falling over backwards. Ares lets out a jagged sounding thrum, vibrating through his chest as he continues to push into Charles with his tongue.
Navigating around the table, Ares carries him in the opposite direction of the bedroom, making Charles whimper. Ares pulls back, giving his lip a rough nip, as if reprimanding Charles for the sound, but it only excites him even more. A moment later, his back presses against the glass of the balcony doors. He uses his newfound leverage to press himself closer against Ares, his cock hardening between the two of them.
Ares closes what little gap is left between them and digs his talons into Charles' ass with a bruising grip. He wedges a hand down against Charles' body to grope the bugle in Charles' pants and growls, long tongue shoving harder into his mouth. He nips at Ares' tongue, feeding off the man's aggressive displays of passion, his own low growl rising up in his throat as he rubs himself against Ares' hand. Pulling away from the kiss, Ares drops his mouth to Charles' shoulder and sinks his teeth in, cutting through the fabric of Charles' shirt, instantly drawing blood.
Charles bucks his hips, nearly losing himself entirely with the sudden, sharp stabs of pain. It takes all his self-control not to cum right then and there, but he has so much more he wants to do with the turian before the night is through. "Take me to the bedroom," he says between gasps, bright lights dancing behind his closed eyes.
"Why?" Ares practically snarls as he laps at the blood, rumbling deeply so the sound vibrates through his chest and against Charles' ribs. "This is closer."
Charles huffs but it turns into a pleading moan. "Because I can barely move."
Ares barks a rough laugh before adjusting his hand on Charles' infuriatingly-still-covered-cock, slashing his talons through the sweatpants so only boxers lie between Ares' hand and the thing Charles most wants him to touch. Charles groans, half because he has to admit that is goddamn hot, but also because he really doesn't have the credits to keep up with the turian's penchant for destroying clothes. Obviously, Ares has zero intention of giving Charles his way, and he isn't really in a position to argue, so instead, he wriggles his arms down the best he can to start tugging the turian's shirt up, splaying his fingers against hide, plate, and scars wherever his hands can reach.
Ares leans back enough to remove his hand from Charles' groin and yanks off his own shirt. Whether because he likes the touch or because it's in the way, Charles doesn't know but can't complain. Instead of returning his hand back between their bodies, Ares steps away and tugs Charles' shirt in a demanding manner. Bracing his ass against the glass, Charles pulls his back away from it enough to lift his shirt up over his head and tosses it aside. Sliding his hands over Ares' shoulders, he pulls the man back, wanting to feel his bare chest press against Ares.
Ares rumbles, the sound hoarse, and sets Charles down. "Take those off," he commands as he points to Charles' boxers and steps back to work on getting his own pants off.
Charles reaches for Ares instead, muttering, "Let me do it."
Ares grumbles something quietly enough that it doesn't translate, but he relents and releases his grip on the waistband of his pants. Charles grins, hooking his thumbs beneath the elastic and works them down over the sharp curves of Ares' hips—taking his time unwrapping his present. Careful, he eases them down in the front just enough to see Ares has already slipped past his plates, leaving himself exposed. Before Ares can grumble—because Charles knows that he will—Charles drops to his knees, running his tongue along the length of the turian's cock.
Ares hums and lays a hand on Charles' head, the pressure light and gentle enough for Charles to ignore for now. Taking as much of Ares' cock in his mouth as he can tolerate to start, he wraps his hand around what's left at the base, moving in slow, even motions. Ares lets out a deep, rumbling exhale, his scarred throat often making the sound even more scratchy when aroused. He stands still as Charles moves, but he seems to grow bored quickly, leaving Charles in dismay at yet another failing attempt to get the turian to relax and be patient. Ares shifts, gripping Charles' head in his massive hand, preventing him from moving. Heart beginning to race, panic over an old, deeply-rooted fear threatening to take hold of him, Charles presses his palms against Ares thighs and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh, not hard enough to really hurt, but threatening.
Huffing in what sounds like amusement, Ares pulls Charles' head further away before bucking his hips, ignoring the scrape of teeth across his cock as he rams it further into Charles' mouth. Hurt and betrayal flare to life in Charles' chest as he does his best not to vomit over Ares' cock, though he'd deserve it. His mind races, trying to hold on to a rational understanding of the situation. Trying to remind himself it was Ares and not ….
Charles casts an angry glare at the turian, but Ares merely smirks, pulling his hips back once more, pausing just long enough for Charles to realize he intends to do it again. Pushing as hard as he can from his position, Charles shoves at the turian's thighs, pulling himself back. Ares lets him disengage, but he still has that look on his face that tells Charles he thinks there's something funny about what he just did.
Climbing back to his feet, he eyes Ares through narrowed lids, crossing his arms over his chest to hide his trembling fingers. "Not cool."
Ares grins, cocksure and either oblivious or just apathetic to the maelstrom of emotions brewing inside of Charles. Reaching for Charles' hips, he slips his taloned fingers into the waistband of Charles' boxers, starting to tug them down. Charles furrows his brow and steps back, slapping Ares' hands away. He might like things rough, might even relish the pain, but he isn't just a fuck hole and is totally not okay with being treated like nothing more than a sexbot. Christ, of all nights … Charles narrows his eyes further, wrapping his arms around himself, putting up an emotional wall before he lets something out he doesn't want to deal with. Not with Ares here.
Lifting a brow plate, Ares steps back, finally seeming to realize Charles isn't playing games. His gaze roams over Charles, undamaged mandible flicking in a clear show of annoyance. "What's your problem?"
Charles fights back a sneer, working to keep his voice level. "I'm just really not okay with that."
"You're the one who got down on your knees." Ares shakes his head, mandibles flaring and sub-vocals trilling with his confusion and irritation. "Explain to me the two different signals you're giving me."
Charles takes another step back, hitting the glass of the balcony door, unwanted memories pushing in around the edges of his mind. "I was trying to do something nice, if you didn't like it, you should've just said so." He wraps his arms a little tighter around himself. "Grabbing my head and not letting me move it before ramming your cock down my throat is … that's not something I'd consent to."
Maybe it's just a turian thing, clearly his gag reflex doesn't work the same as Charles' considering he swallows his food pretty much whole. Maybe he doesn't get how incredibly uncomfortable that sort of thing is for a human, why Charles doesn't like it. But either way, Charles doesn't want him to do it for a number of reasons, and that needs to be made crystal clear now.
Ares tilts his head and flicks his mandibles, and Charles thinks he's actually mulling it over. "Fine. I get it now." Straightening, Ares hums and glances around the room, his expression searching, but for what, Charles doesn't know. "I haven't done this before."
Charles furrows his brow and shakes his head a little, trying to piece together what the hell the man means. "Done what before?"
Ares looks back down to Charles and waves a hand between the two of them. "This."
Relaxing a little, Charles lifts an eyebrow in question. "You mean … have sex with the same person more than once?"
Ares' brow plates lower, and he pinches his mandibles in against his face. "I've done that before." Sighing, he crosses his arms and drums the talons from one hand onto the forearm of the other.
The confused, frustrated look on the turian's face is enough to cool Charles' own fears, he can tell Ares wasn't trying to be malicious, not like …. Ares' spoken 'this' twists and turns inside of Charles' skull, pulling at something inside of him. A part of him wants to believe Ares is implying something more than just a Citadel booty call exists between the two of them, but another part is afraid it might be exactly what Ares means.
"Just give me a minute," Charles says, cutting off the line of thought as he rubs a hand absently up and down his opposite arm. Taking a steadying breath, he rolls his head on his neck, willing tight muscles to loosen again. After a moment, he forces himself to drop his arms, sucking in a deep breath and takes a step closer to Ares, holding out his hand. "Try again?"
Ares glances at Charles' hand before uncrossing his arms. He emits a sound very close to a purr as he takes Charles' hand and turns, giving him a slight tug towards the bedroom. Charles smiles, letting the turian lead him through the apartment, giving his fingers a little squeeze.