Three, four and five fingers. Jane Shepard was trying to figure out how to get what she wanted. Well, who she wanted. There was a symmetrical mathematical progression she could appreciate. Three fingers of a Turian, four fingers of a Drell, five fingers of a human.
She was still slightly drunk, having excused herself from the Mess, having been wired for hours after an emotional trip to Pragia to help Jack.
She sat on her bed, throwing a ball in the air and catching it. It was as close as she came to meditation, and although she might be good at verbal juggling, she didn't want to learn how to physically juggle. She wanted to focus and concentrate.
She wanted to juggle a few men.
Oh man, she still really was drunk.
To make sure she stayed that way she grabbed a bottle of vodka and downed more than a splash with a thick breath-catching burn, went back to tossing her ball and watching the stars.
There, fuel for thought.
One beautiful thing about a cabin to herself was the blessed privacy. Her sex drive was…
Her sex drive had always been revved high, and when she didn't have a partner, or several partners, she appreciated her privacy, her imagination and constantly rioting hormones driving her into the sweat-slicked arch of masturbation. There had always something fun about masturbating in a bunk amid a bunch of hyper-physical people from the Alliance when she was in training, either trying to not get caught, or trying to get caught by the right person, which took timing and resulted in more fun.
She'd earned not having to be furtive, so she was going to enjoy it for all it was worth.
So…three fingers…
Garrus first then. She started with the vivid memory he'd just put in her head, of him behind Tali, speaking the lines from "Fleet and Flotilla" he had memorized. What a voice. She swallowed hard at the memory and spread her middle three fingers wide, imagining them as talons, dragged them down the sides of her throat, imagining his voice close at her ear.
Shepard, he'd call her Shepard and she'd heard that name on his lips so often it came easily and naturally to mind. She had another new favorite phrase of his. They'd gone out to shoot Sidonis and he'd said to that ridiculous little Volus threateningly "Make an exception, just this once."
Please, Garrus, I'm going to ask you to make an exception…just this once…for me. Please, if you've never touched a human, please touch me. She imagined his teeth at her throat and his voice in her ear, adding into her imagination the yearning she'd just heard in his voice.
She dragged her hands down and lifted her breasts through her jacket, pressed them together, her dark caramel-colored skin contrasting with the soft brown of the leather, imagining his hands, wider, warmer and new. Tilting her head back she closed pale blue eyes, tensing her thighs. She unzipped the jacket and slid her hand in under her bra, teasing a nipple, squeezing it between the edges of her fingers and biting her lip. Garrus was warmth, strength and protection. From what she'd seen in him lately, the way he talked, the way he looked at her, she could have this.
Her free hand dug her fingernails into her palms and that little tiny splice of pain in her mind made her other hand tighten around her nipple, bringing a tight gasp. That was good.
His hand would be too big to slide under her leggings, so they'd have to go, talons and fingertips would be too tight. She tried to tear at her leggings like he could, but she didn't have Turian strength or talons so she laughed and had to rethink this fantasy. Okay, no tearing. Maybe tearing later. Put those talons to good use. In the meantime…
She lifted her hips and shimmied partway out of her leggings, all the way off or partway? Partway. Let's be in a hurry here, leggings removed only enough for access, not enough for being polite. Garrus, can you manage to not be polite? I have faith in you…
She tried to spread her legs wider but the leggings got in the way. Dammit, off then. Not sexy. Using her feet she hooked her toes in and dragged them off, with some effort, laughing at the fantasy-dampening turn of events. This is why I need other people. This would not be a problem with claws.
Yes, I realize I just made myself seem incapable of removing my own pants, moving on.
So don't tell the Batarians.
While she was at it she sat up momentarily and jerked off her jacket, her bra. The jacket was leather so that was nice, she flipped it over and lay back down on it, a cool to warm texture against her back. Not plates. Plates would be better.
Three fingers. Right. Shepard….exceptions…the look in his eye when he moved his gaze from Tali to her over the table. That…
Her hand tightened on her breast again and her other hand traced lightly over her stomach. Her skin had lovely reactions right there, just like along her neck, that set her muscles trilling, not tickled but tensed and trembling, racing with pleasure.
Tensing her ass and thighs, her legs fell apart. She was already so wet, always wet, never not wet, but sometimes wetter, a finger testing that ever-simmering heat, then sliding along folds to open wider, settling lightly on her clit, electrically sensitive, breath building faster.
Turians were always hard, didn't thrust, they stay inside…hard, twisting, invading. The image shifted to being on Garrus's lap, cock deep inside, with her body straining back against chest and sternum blade. Depending on the allergic sensitivity, sexual contact with a Turian was either death from anaphylactic shock or a tingling, straining drug in the blood, everything right, an overlay of dripping pleasure. She'd been with Turians before, loving the fullness, the voice, the talons and whatever magic they hoarded in their skin. Yes, Garrus, that. I want that. Please that. Entry would be radiating pain-pleasure, defining the limits of extreme sensation, and then that defined boundary would create a space filling with pleasure, moving from sharp pain to warmer pain to no pain at all. His voice would croon, soothing and possessive as she went from wincing pain to melting back against him, his mouth at her throat, his voice with her name in her ear.
Yes, that, please that. Three fingered hands on her breasts and then…and then four fingers…Thane between her legs, Drell venom sinking into the skin of her thighs, slow and strong, dual-drugged lovers into her blood and body. Drell hands on the inside of her thighs, dragging his fingers on her skin and looking into her blurring eyes until his tongue met her clit and he closed his eyes and she closed hers. Abandonment to pleasure overload synched in her imagination and her fingers stroked at her aching and vibrating clit, electric sensitivity giving way to waves of building pleasure. Her back arched and she twisted at her nipple hard, biting at her lip until it bled, glad for the privacy that allowed her to gasp, to moan, to have that almost out-of-body sense of hearing her own voice make a sound she loved to hear, to feel that spasming, washing pleasure soak through her from her center to her fingertips, to her toes, outstretched and straining. She collapsed in the afterglow with soft sighs, her hands stroking along her skin, leather comfortably making its texture known against her now more sensitive back, panting, realizing she didn't even make it to five fingers.
An image of her hands around two cocks lit up her already seared brain and she laughed.
Yeah. That would worth a little effort, huh?
oOoOoOoOoOo
Considering her different options, the best way to go about it was to be straightforward. She couldn't start a relationship with the expectation of monogamy, romance and seduction, and then drop polyamory as a subject in on a backdrop of candlelight and poetry. Too much like trap. Although not intended to be that way, it could and had been seen that way. She wanted to build an actual relationship if possible, and it didn't start with "Wanna fuck?" but it also didn't start with romantic declarations. It did start with honesty and respect from her, and a promise that she would always be honest, always be respectful. Her main concern up front was less romantic than seemingly cold and legal…consent. Everyone needed to know what they were getting into without feeling betrayed or manipulated. There was always the issue of someone thinking they could 'convert' her and she had to head that off. Turians were possessive and ultimately monogamous. Thane had been married. They both had potential reasons to expect monogamy if they were being approached and she had to take responsibility for that, and for the possibility of her proposition to be a turn off or even insulting. Could happen. If they said no she'd be exactly where she started, so no lost ground. They were both discreet and adult enough to give her a polite no and leave it at that.
It was a lot up front, but she was Commander Shepard, Garrus was a Turian rebel and Thane was a life-long assassin. With those backgrounds she found it hard to believe they would be shocked. She needed to hear a clear 'yes' before anything started, because she knew the tumbling, inhibition-stealing rush of lust that could make her say 'yes' to many, many things, and transferring that quality to other people, she didn't want to get anybody hot and/or bothered and then spring a consent authorization.
Plenty of time for romance later.
Spending a lifetime under Alliance protocols, spending her childhood moving from base to base, her only constant companion was the expectations of military service, discipline and sacrifice. She had known no other life. Her life had never been conducive to long-term plans. Right now she could probably count her life expectancy in weeks or months and not use up all of her fingers counting them. That was the case often in her career, and even more so right now. Everyone on the ship had signed on for a suicide mission and had set their affairs in order one way or the other.
Garrus had killed Sidonis with her help, as he had killed Dr. Heart years ago. People had asked her for favors over the years, and she'd been usually happy to provide them considering the stakes, but Garrus hit her hard. He had not once asked for anything that benefited him personally or directly. He could have stayed in the Turian military or he could have stayed in C-Sec if he'd wanted only status and appearance. His father was influential, the Vakarian clan high in Hierarchy politics. Garrus could have had much more power, but he chose direct intervention. He had used his requests, effort and his time to save other people. In the case of Dr. Heart he wanted medical torture to end. In the case of Omega he wanted to spare the innocent from use and slaughter. In the case of Sidonis he wanted the potential for past and future betrayal to end. Of all the dangerous fetch and carry she'd been asked to do, his requests had been the most poignant, and he'd revealed himself to be the most tenacious, selfless protector of others that she had the privilege to meet. She knew that if he asked for something, it was necessary, and she had never told him no. She had rarely left the ship without him at her side, and that was as true on the SR-2 as it had been on the SR-1.
Thane had reconnected with his son, and watching him speak to Kolyat had echoed the loneliness she had woken up to on a Cerberus slab. Friends, allies, lovers, partners, her life, all gone, out of her control, washed away by the unstoppable tide of time. Thane's voice had reflected her depths, though she knew his losses had been deeper, had cost him more because he had had less than she had. She recalled him telling her when she'd asked why he needed her help with Kolyat, because he could certainly track and stop an inexpert Drell on the Citadel "I don't need your help, Shepard, I want it." He was capable of simple, piercing honesty. That was also something that she understood well. The aching vulnerability of it, how much it had meant to him, how much it had meant to her that after such a short acquaintance, this man with no reason to trust had found the courage to ask for help.
If she was a pirate she was going to make the most of it. Objectively it had been years since she'd had sex and subjectively it felt much longer. Kaidan and Liara had tried to make passes at her during the last year of her life, but the ultimatums from them had turned her off entirely. Jealousy was not something she could work with. Possessiveness, yes, that she liked, but not in an absolute sense. Possession right now, not forever. She could not promise forever. She couldn't even promise days with the risks they took. She couldn't tell anybody that they were more important than her job. She would continue to risk her life, make the choices she made, and she couldn't bolster someone else's ego while weakening her own. Definitely she could not give into that temptation with people under her command. She had asked these men to give their lives and they both had agreed to that. She hadn't slept with anybody in the Alliance since she'd left training. It would put her command at risk and that was not going to happen. She wanted enough pleasure and joy in a private life to have reminders of what in life was worth all the sacrifices and tough choices. Even if she didn't have it now, or wouldn't have it, she knew there were things she'd give her life for, relationships and people worth the fight. It was the reason she fought so hard, that knowledge that there was real love, real people, real devotion between species, among people with no promise but to please each other. It was truly Universal, or at least Galactic.
She'd learned to deal with right here, right now, as simple as possible, as much pleasure that could be squeezed from a moment without engaging with people that had that unmistakable band of jealousy in their psyches. She'd learned how to find it, how to avoid it, and if necessary, she'd avoid sex altogether, which she had. Like now. Unfortunately.
The tricky part was that even people that weren't inherently jealous could have that brought out of them when they felt strongly enough. She tended to make people feel strongly. A good thing and a bad thing.
She was polyamorous but not casual. She needed to care. Most often people assumed that because she was polyamorous she treated sex casually, and that was her deepest obstacle to being understood. It wasn't that being in command made her reliant on her own autonomy and demanding of respect and trust, it was the reverse. That's who she was at a person. It's what made her command style possible. She set her own boundaries, made her own rules and did not allow hostile incursions on the sacred space she held most dear. She welcomed and longed for company in that space, but it was hard to find, impossible to keep. She often was in love with someone before approaching them in any way on the subject. It often began well, but there had been issues, repeated issues. She imagined it wasn't that much different from monogamous relationships, she just had more chances to make it work, but also more chances to screw it up. Since she could not offer absolute fealty emotionally or physically, many people misinterpreted her intent.
She'd been told often how she felt, and asked not as often. She could have corrected a few people that had decided she was a cold, using bitch, but calling her a cold, using bitch was the fastest way to get the distance she needed to extract herself. She was not cold, she was not using, but she could definitely be a bitch when provoked. She allowed them to keep their impressions. Her breakups never evoked cruelty or vengefulness from her, but they did create an instant distance, trust lost. She would always care for the people she loved, but would not get close again. The love, the caring, never ended, but the avenue of expression was gone.
She recognized that insulating space in Thane as well. She had a heart, but it was concealed. A hidden heart did not mean an absent heart.
Garrus wore his heart on his armor. Sometimes he wore his heart as his armor. He was fearless.
She'd argue with a lover over whose turn it was to do the dishes or make the bed, and she'd often start that argument, egalitarian military discipline insisting on order, but she would not argue over what she'd always said up front…I am polyamorous, I will become attracted to other people and I am already involved with other people.
This was the first time in her adult life that she had nobody she was involved with. Hardly anybody knew she was still alive, most people had mourned her and she was headed straight back into the maelstrom. She didn't feel like popping back up on Ilium or the Citadel and terrifying a few people by her resurrection and then saying the equivalent of "Gotta go, need to die. Again."
The hardest dichotomy was between wanting and loving. People willing to be wanted up front were resistant to being loved at the same time as another, thinking love was for a soul mate and otherwise suspect, counterfeit. Loving more people expanded rather than contracted her philosophy and experience. It gave her freedom and an appreciation for beauty and pleasure that was as close to spiritual as she could name. Only time would tell which way things would go, same as in a monogamous relationship. She needed to give time, trust and attention, and hope that her choices could show someone she was devoted to them, loved them in her own way, but was unwilling through temperament, philosophy and chosen career to beguiling lies about forever and only.
Some people embraced polyamory immediately and enthusiastically, only to have "pecking order" become a necessary thing as time and intimacy deepened a relationship. She remembered Faralan asking, with desperation in his eyes and twitching mandible, "But you want me most, right?" Her lack of answer had made him accuse her of costing them the relationship, but in reality it was him asking that had ended it. She'd also been accused of using people, the angry eyes of an Asari Commando, Giatis called to mind. "So you'll be there for me when you want to be there for me? What about need, Jane? What about needing to be with me?" Spitefully and jealously a lover after Elysium had said "So you'd die for me, right? That's what you can give me? That's not worth much, Shepard, apparently you'd die for anybody."
To each of them she had said nothing, ugliness in personal relationships on subjects she knew she had stated clearly causing her to retreat behind a wall of cool reserve. Torture wouldn't have made her tell the truth, that up until that moment that those words were said, she could have told each of them that she lived for them.
Dying was her job. Living was her choice.
She didn't long for permanency, because she didn't believe in permanency. She wanted an honest relationship, loving and strong. If she couldn't have it…well, there was always vodka, privacy and right about now Kasumi's recording of certain voices.
She needed freedom, needed choices, more than she needed security. If security had been her goal, she wouldn't have followed in her parents' footsteps. She would have emigrated to a remote colony, where pioneer spirit and hard work fell into line with a traditional family model. She would have sought that rather than signing up with glee for the Infiltrator program, eager to make it to Sharpshooter classification first, which she had. She'd experienced enough joy in her relationships to know it was possible, that there were people who innately understood, reached for her with both hands and let go with both hands, fully committed to each moment. That's what she was chasing. She'd been in love so many times. Spontaneous, effortless love. Sometimes people she loved died, because those were the people she fell in love with, the ones with their lives on the line.
An image of Urem, a Drell man she'd fallen in love with, fallen in bed with, spent all her time with on the Citadel when she was there flashed through memory. In her mind he stood in his small apartment, Drell sand sculptures and paintings of clear yellow skies and mountains of Rakhana adorning his shelves and walls. He loosened the towel around his waist and said softly as he headed to the shower "Come and get me."
She had. He had been someone she had loved, someone murdered during Sovereign's assault on the Citadel. He was gone and there would be no forever. But what they had each moment when he was alive and looking her way with his teasing eyes, thick warm voice and pleasure-drenched skin had been worth the grief she felt now. She didn't have a Drell's memory, but she had memories of Drell.
Thane reminded her of Urem in so many ways and yet he was distinctly himself. Tasting Drell skin brought tiremit and she missed it, hallucinogenic venom adding a layer of soft lights and emotional attachment, focused pleasure to sex, to being held in strong, textured arms with whispered endearments echoing in her ears.
She was diving straight into the deep end of the pool here, she knew, choosing with a technically virgin body to head straight toward Turian and Drell sexual benefits not intended for human physiology, but she was also headed straight into a death trap by design. She wanted to find out if tiremit and Turian mixed. If not, Dr. Chakwas was on call.
If so…yeah, worth it.
She'd have liked to take a shot at Garrus before, but he'd been so formal and obviously star struck that she felt wrong making an attempt. Too much like coercion.
She was no longer Alliance, and as much as that had sucked, she could take advantage of it. That was her strength, using what she had and not what she wanted to have.
She'd start with Garrus, because she considered him the least…technically difficult of this whole thing. She was most comfortable with him and he deserved…first right of refusal? It seemed a respectful way to go about it. She'd gotten a lot of no in her day, so rejection didn't concern her terribly. She'd also gotten a lot of yes. If he said no it would be a potential loss, but if she didn't ask for what she wanted, she'd never have the chance for a potential gain. Just like a military career, losses had to be expected. She'd lost men and women under her command. She had lost and mourned lovers. She could certainly bear up under a shocked or disgusted no from her otherwise best friend on board. She wasn't really concerned that he'd be disgusted, because…well…Turian. Turian attitudes toward sex were much like hers, at least culturally and up to a point. Turian childhood was considered a time for sexual promiscuity, and childhood continued until finding a mate and bonding. After bonding, no more promiscuity. It seemed however it worked, bonding had a much stronger effect on Turians than marriage did on humans. There was no such thing as cheating on a mate. Turians didn't talk about it. Yeah, well, they didn't talk about it the way they didn't sleep with humans…it happened. She knew more than she should but not as much as she'd like. It got complicated because promiscuous Turians had been sleeping with Asari for a while, and human females were really not all that different.
She didn't think Garrus was bonded. Shore leave, parties on the Citadel after Sovereign and time together at bars meant conversations were interrupted often when female Turians asked Garrus to dance. A lot. And he danced. A lot. He was a really good dancer.
Only time at Omega and two years gone gave her pause. What if he had been bonded, what if he was mourning a mate?
She still had the species gap to contend with, but she didn't see Garrus rejecting her in a way that would hurt her on purpose. She knew the boundaries of Turian involvement with humans. As a human with a Turian she was destined to be hidden, which was fine, if not preferred. She wasn't sure that any Turian she'd been with had been aware that she was in love with them, the subject never came up. They certainly knew they were wanted, she certainly knew she was desired. Convincing this Turian was worth the risk she was taking.
She loved Garrus, loved him several ways, admired his skill and temperament, his absolute dedication and attention to detail that had kept her alive and allowed for others to live. He was a dear and close friend, and the first person she wanted at her side for fun or business. In love…that was new...ish. She'd often considered his hands, his voice, had obviously fantasized, but never felt a sense of attainable possibility until he'd looked at her yesterday. He hadn't been speculative, he had been sure, using the moment of drunken silliness to honestly signal something.
He could signal but never insist. She knew that in Turian culture, women had to make a move before a male would do more than hint at his interest. Garrus called himself a bad Turian, but in many ways he was a product of the culture and teachings of his people. He was an ideal and idealizing Turian. Add in that she was his superior officer and she knew it was up to her to make clear that she had seen his interest and reciprocated.
As usual, she had a lot of ground to cover and not much time.
She was less apprehensive than excited as she headed down to the Battery and smiled as he said "Need me for something?"
She said "Yes. Wanted to talk and get your opinion on something. Can you pull yourself away from whatever it is you're doing? Hit pause? Can I bribe you by buying you something shiny and lethal? It's a personal matter."
He said "Well…I am in the middle of something, and I won't turn down anything shiny and lethal, ever…buuut." He dragged it out and she smiled, sat down on the side bench and said "I promise new toys."
He pretended to capitulate, tapped a few buttons and said "Since I'm sure it will increase my efficiency overall, yes. What's on your mind? Is it…a personal emergency?" Concern fringed his voice and she was grateful to have him ask her how she was doing. He did it often. She and Garrus had made the transition from colleagues to friends long ago, it came easy.
She said "Not an emergency, but personal. Thank you for your time. Shut the door, please?"
He raised a brow plate but complied, leaning back on the console and watching her intently.
She said "Need to tell you some things, need to ask you some things. It is all…personal. Regardless of what your answers or opinions are, you should know that I will always regard you with the highest level of respect I could ever give to a colleague and the greatest gratitude I could give a friend. You and I have shared saving each other's lives, taking lives, saving the lives of other people, and making truly awful choices and living with the consequences. You were with me from the beginning of my Spectre career and your information and assistance made everything I've done after that moment possible. That will never change. I owe you my life hundreds of times over, that also will never change. I trust you more than I have trusted anybody and I put my life in your hands without hesitation. "
His body held his sniper-trained stillness, his eyes sharp and attentive. A slight smile crept up one side of his mouth and he said "Thank you." His simple acceptance, knowing that he'd said the same to her, shown the same to her and it could have gone unspoken and still known was such a rock-steady change from most other people. That was part of why he was so special to her.
She said with a smile "This might be far more information than you want to hear, so if you get uncomfortable, stop me and we'll forget it happened, okay?"
He nodded and said "I'll try not to panic." with such dry humor that she laughed.
She said "Okay, okay. I'm not trying to insult your nerve."
He grinned "Better not. Am I going to need a lawyer?"
That made her laugh again. "No. Nothing like that. Personal, remember? I demand only one outrageous drunken commitment per week."
He nodded and said smugly "I could have said no, by the way."
She nodded back "Yes, you could. I'm so glad you didn't. It got me thinking."
She expected an 'uh oh' but he held her gaze with that patience that got her here in the first place. Patience and talons. She resisted squirming. She said "No lawyers, but yes, I imagine this does sound like an opening to a court case. Exhibit one: I am a polyamorous individual. I am not built for monogamy. Right now I am interested in two people. You and Thane. I may become interested in more in the future, you know, if we live that long. Exhibit two: I can't promise to be exclusive, but I can promise to be available and very grateful."
His expression didn't change but she could tell he was holding it with an effort, some tension around his eyes. He said softly "How grateful?"
Her eyes warmed "Very." Well. This was encouraging.
He didn't look like he was thinking about it as he said "That's a subjective term, so we can explore that later. Have you asked Thane?"
She shook her head "I wanted to give you the first…well, I was thinking first right of refusal."
Then he looked like he was surprised. "In what realm of existence would I refuse? How stupid do you think I am?"
She laughed, reassured, and said "Not stupid. Just…having free will. You have free will."
He scoffed and said "Not so sure about that, not about this. Not about you. So you're thinking…me and Thane…to put it in technical terms…serial or parallel?"
She smiled and said "That part is entirely up to your…desired participation. Keep in mind the free will thing, I still have no idea what he might have to say. It might never come up."
He said as though it were obvious "Oh, I have an idea. I'm betting yes."
She smiled. "I've learned not to bet against you."
He smirked and continued "Even with a no, if we live long enough it might come up with someone else."
She tilted a head and said "Possibly, but again, that's entirely up to you. I would never require or demand parallel if you only enjoy being hooked up serial. Happy to have your time when you want to give it."
He nodded and said "So if I ask for time alone with you, without other participants, let's call it a shakedown run, we can do that?"
She smiled and said "Oh yes. We can do that. As often as you'd like."
He repeated slowly "As often…as I'd like…okay. Let's say, for scenario's sake, after a shakedown run, that I want to bring someone else along? Say an Asari female or another Turian male? Hell, let's say both."
She considered, thinking he knew the answers but was making sure that she knew that he understood her by asking the right questions and giving the right reactions. Hope kicked in a litte more and there were flutters in her stomach "I'd like to meet them first, have the whole right of refusal thing myself, but I wouldn't say no on principle."
He shrugged slightly and said "What about someone else who drunkenly approves of my voice? What if I were to pursue Tali, or ask her to come along?"
She said "Give me a head start, let me sterilize the room to limit her chances of infection, but yeah, I don't see why not. Your time, when not spent with me, is your time. Any relationship with me only requires that you want to be with me. A relationship with someone else involved means we want to be with them too. If you get sick of me, just give me a heads up. Just to be polite."
His eyes sharpened their focus and he asked, disbelieving "Has anybody ever gotten sick of you?"
She tilted her head and said "Not everyone is as even minded and fair as you are, Garrus. This sort of thing doesn't suit everyone."
He said with brief disgust "So…idiots."
She tilted her head forward with a grateful smile.
He said "Have you been with a Turian before?"
She nodded.
He said "Are you allergic?"
She shook her head and said "Are you?"
He shook his head slowly with a smile. A hell of a smile. She resisted squirming again and swallowed.
He said without hesitation "Okay. Thank you for the first right of refusal. I'm going to take the first right of acceptance." Her smile was huge and instant. He tilted his head and said "Full disclosure here, we're on the ship with an adolescent Krogan, a Salarian without a filter and a perceptive Drell. There is no way with Grunt here that we're going to be able to have a discreet, hidden relationship, if that is what you want. He's going to smell me on you. Mordin's going to want to run a study. Doesn't matter if you shower or wear perfume, they will know. By the way, please don't wear perfume. You don't, but it's a preference that you not start. Thane will detect it also, so you may not have to tell him depending on your timing. Is that a deal breaker?"
She hadn't considered that and her mouth opened for a moment in surprise. She'd prefer discretion but Garrus was right. Asking Grunt if he could keep a confidence would be tantamount to asking him if he liked extortion and torture.
Then it occurred to her that Garrus was stating that as a Turian he was willing to let it be known that he was involved with a human. More surprise.
She smiled, heart pounding harder and said "Well…we're pirates. Who are they going to report us to?"
He grinned and then said "The Illusive Man and EDI are going to watch everything."
She put a little taunting sing song into saying "Hope it makes them jealous." She added earnestly "The Hierarchy might find out."
He shrugged and said "They might find out I was Archangel. They might find out I don't care that they find out."
Her eyes softened and teasing left her voice. She said "You care, Garrus. You love your people. You love your family."
He nodded and said softly "And yet the only person willing to care for me as I am, not as they want me to be, is the person right here, right now, and she is not Turian." He pushed away from the console and walked to her, reached out a hand until she met it with her own. He said lightly "When can I start?"
She raised a brow and said "Yesterday. Wait, no, about three years ago."
His eyes widened in surprise and he said "Why did you have to tell me I wasted all that time?"
She said "You asked?"
He made a frustrated noise and said "So you're saying it's my fault."
She nodded and said deadpan "Definitely."
He yanked her off the bench suddenly and off her feet, pressed against his armor with his arm wrapped around her waist, plates digging into her back.
His mouth was on her throat, making her feel she had definitely made the right choice, had said the right thing. Yes. That. His teeth moved over the side of her neck. He was breathing in deeply and exhaling hard, scenting her. All she could smell of him was the metal of his armor, heat sink residue, gun oil, the ozone of tools used on weaponry. Her head was turned back too awkwardly by the force of his face at her throat to be able to find out what he really smelled like. She'd clearly get her chance. This was more than good enough for now, the contrast between them, the strength in his arm and feeling suddenly small washing over her, with little ripples of sensation traveling out along her skin, down her spine, from his breath and teeth.
With a reluctant and half strangled growl he pulled his head back, lowered her until her toes were on the ground, but still off balance leaning into him. He leaned his crest to her forehead and she was startled and flattered. If Turians had a gesture of respect, of connection, that was it. She'd only seen it between Turians, between family and close friends. Never with a human. Her eyes were wide and she blinked once as he released her and put her back on her feet.
He lifted a hand to tuck a lock of her shoulder-length, black, straight hair behind her ear and said "Not here. Anybody could walk in. Please tell me you have nothing important you need to do right now."
She smiled and said "Nothing more important than this."
He slid one of his hands through her hair and she turned into it, but he still had his damned gloves on and her hair got caught in the joints when he tightened his fingers and she said "Ow. Wait. OW."
He pulled his hand back in surprise and ripped some of her hair out and she winced and then laughed. "Well, that took care of that."
He looked down at his glove with the strands of offended hair, suddenly looking horrified, guilty and worried. He said in apology "Uh…that was bad."
She rubbed her head, laughed and said to reassure him "It's okay. I can take a hair hit. I'm going to go up to my cabin. I'd like it if you followed soon. You should probably take those off."
He sounded anxious "You sure?"
She raised a brow and said with promise "That's not the way I like my hair pulled, but I can show you."
He growled, threw his gloves with a clatter to the floor, lifted her easily and dizzily by the waist and pressed her back against the door, both hands coming up to twine through her hair. Tilting her neck back and his forward he pressed his mouth plates to her lips. Assaulted by so many things at once she didn't move her body, forgot about her hands, focusing on the feel of his mouth on hers, his fingers with talons on her scalp, through her hair. Turians didn't kiss. Or so she'd thought. At least she'd never kissed one.
Turians. Should. Kiss.
He'd practiced on somebody and she was effusively grateful to whoever had shown him what his mouth could do to human lips. Maybe he'd practiced an Asari. Whoever it was, bless you ma'am or sir.
She drew in a fast stuttered breath and tried to dedicate herself to the kiss as much as he had. He was nipping at her lips, the rough striated texture of the edges and flat of his mouth plates teasing and hard against her. Tree bark. He had the texture of smooth tree bark, like a birch or a…
Thought and comparison fled as his tongue slid along the line of her lips and then inside, and she could taste him, smell him, share his breath. Oh Goddess, Spirits, whoever is listening, I have good taste in men. Thank you.
He tasted like mint. She'd looked it up, because Turians tasted like mint. Mint plants had dextro-amino acids. He tasted like spinning mint, and with her eyes closed she got dizzy, held up by the press of his body and the tangle of his hands.
His tongue was long, thick, agile and pointed and he…wrapped his tongue around hers and squeezed and…oh fuck, prehensile tongue hugs. A warm, hard flush of blood through the surface of her skin added to the power of the kiss, the slow instillation of whatever magic Turians kept in their systems, they'd never tell her, just smile. Turian secret.
She spared an internal swearing thought for wasting so much damned time alone and finally remembered she had hands, moved them to try to stroke blindly at his throat, but his cowl and her position made it impossible for her to straighten her elbows and she groaned in frustration, holding onto the edge of his armor with strained knuckles as he held her head still and kissed her, time slipping away and yes building.
When he pulled back she whimpered and his answering laugh was husky and expressive. He held her face in his hands, and he said "Change in plans. I'm not waiting here. Can you walk?"
She widened her eyes and said "Not sure. Don't really want to. Five minutes?"
He shook his head emphatically "No minutes. Now. You walk or I carry you."
She smiled "They both sound…really good. Let me try walking. I'm making no promises though."
He said solemnly with his expressive, fearless eyes on her "I'll be right there. I won't let you fall." His voice was sincerity and promise, with an undercurrent of the passion she'd just felt and her knees chimed in with more weakness.
She said "Your voice is…really not fair."
He laughed, said "I'll take any advantage I can get." He stepped back reluctantly, retrieved his gloves, set them aside, shut down his console with a few strokes while she was trying to catch her breath, then turned to look at her, sweeping his eyes up and down once appreciatively and reaching for the release for the door. He said "Ready?"
She nodded. The door swooshed open and the rush of air tested her balance, but she managed.
With the discipline born of walking while bleeding, shooting while wanting to scream and even possibly the discipline it took to not fall to her knees and do some begging right now, she walked cooly out of the Battery and he followed, a few steps behind.
The elevator took blessedly only a few seconds. She muttered "That armor has to come off or I'm taking a torch to it. Gets in my way."
He answered as though on the battle field "I'm on it. If you're wearing anything you'd like to keep, stop wearing it, it's going to get damaged. "
Once in her cabin she didn't put her hands on the clasps to his armor out of respect and military superstition. It was a bit like picking up his rifle. She wouldn't do it unless invited. The seals of his armor ensured his life. It was something he'd check five times putting it on, taking it off, ensuring the proper function of gaskets and locking rims. It was Turian armor and she knew it, she could take it off herself but it was just something…respectful? She wasn't sure, it might look reserved to him, but getting out of armor was a tricky thing and overzealous hands bending hasps or scratching surfaces could kill a mood, bring up a subject that didn't belong in bed. She was wearing something more casual, but not sexy. A strip tease from either of them right now would not be welcome. She wanted skin to plates now.
Now.
She was out of her clothes faster because she wasn't wearing anything that restrictive. With anticipation and apprehension racing along her nerves she set her clothes aside and leaned against the divider between her desk and living space, whistling softly with a clap as he shucked the remainder of his cumbersome armor off.
He said with false grouch "You've got about seventeen seconds to reconsider your casual attitude."
She said lightly "I'm being appreciative."
He sighed and said "Can't you manage a little awe or something?"
She tilted her head "Awe is what got you here, it would be redundant."
He mock scowled "Tough talk from a woman who couldn't walk a few minutes ago."
She said "It's almost like I'm provoking you."
He considered, stripping off the last of his under suit. "Wouldn't be the first time, either."
She smiled brightly "And won't be the last." Awe was definitely there. The physique of Turians was always menacing, predatory and although they were compared to birds, dinosaurs and even insects, the word that always came to mind was "Raptor." Intelligent and lethal pack hunters whether referring to birds or dinosaurs. His talons were out, but they could recede into compartments running down the backs of his fingers at will, plates closing over them for protection. She liked both, the point and cool smoothness of a talon, and the warm, leathery hide of a blunt-tipped and plated finger. His groin plates were closed, unfortunately, and she couldn't see his cock, which would be segmented and articulated, covered with a millimeter of Turian magic, some gel that made her tongue numb and her hands tingle and everything internal clench and weep desire. Turians were always hard, had no orgasm or testicles, and relied on Turian magic for pleasure during sex. Magic that separated her will from her brain.
Plates closed meant he wasn't going to be all that provoked. She'd have to work on that. Goddess grant me time.
She took a moment to appreciate that she'd done it. She wouldn't be entirely alone. He was here, his sinuous limbs stripped of armor, head turning to focus his attention on her, friendship and respect intact. With the startling Turian speed that matched his strength he advanced in stalking posture and her stomach clenched with preternatural fear and uncivilized anticipation.
Her eyes softened with the affection and love she felt for him, separating from and rising above lust for a moment to say with sincerity before she lost her mind and couldn't do it "You amaze me. You are absolutely magnificent, Garrus." She raised a hand to trail along the edge of the bandage on the side of his face, fingers gentle over the rivulets of healing skin and rent plate. If he was looking for coy he had the wrong woman.
Teasing left his eyes and what remained was a reflection of how he felt about what she'd just said, clear, disarmed and appreciative. He took in a sharp breath and opened his mouth as if to speak, but he paused and instead tilted his crest to her forehead, her eyes closing from the repeated gesture of affection and respect. She almost felt like crying from the release of tension, worry and fear of what it would mean to ask him to take her in his arms. With her eyes closed she could finally smell him and not his armor, familiar as an undertone but not as a top note, mint, something like sandalwood and something like rich earth after rain, a scent that recalled the adrenaline echoes of battlefields and closed-eyed longings.
She hadn't been touched since she'd died, and before that not for so long. She would love to fool herself that she was in control of herself, but choosing a Turian as a partner meant that was not what she was after. Choosing him meant he might understand her after following her, watching her for a year, either her ass or her choices, talking over a bottle, generating private jokes, loyalty and admiration. She was suddenly raw and needy and all of her calculations on realization dissolved into that idealized helplessness prematurely, anticipating what his hands, his voice, his body could do.
He pulled her away from her leaning on the wall to lean on him, and ran his claw tips over her shoulders and neck, humming in her ear, a growl building but low in his chest. She stifled a moan and then made a choice to not stifle a damned thing, her sudden louder and obvious appreciation causing his claws to pause momentarily and then return, reassured and harder on her back and shoulders.
He moved his mouth to her ear and said "This might be far more information than you want to hear, so if you get uncomfortable, stop me and we'll forget it happened, okay?"
Her pleasure-blurred brain realized this is what she'd said to him earlier, and scrambled to gain purchase on seriousness and focus. Remembering their earlier conversation she said thickly "I'll try not to panic."
He drew in breath and expelled it with a huff of appreciation, the shot of air to her ear going straight down her spine and sending out ripples of distraction. He said "Let me explain a Turian word to you. One of the moons of Palaven, Nanus, is lit with a blue cast, pale, like your eyes, and when I first saw you that was my impression. Moon eyes, set against the twilight of your skin. Then once I saw your hair fall over your eyes, I could see the moon swathed in shadow. Then I saw your waist and it all…" He paused, drew in a deep breath and said with a deeper throb in his sub-harmonics "The Kerim is the double eclipse of Nanus, curves of shadow moving in over the pale blue, Menae's shadow on one side, Palaven's shadow on the other, even and fleeting. It only happens every few hundred years. Not in my lifetime. Most Turians have never seen it, but know of it from art and history. Seeing the Kerim is a sign of great fortune, blessings from the Spirits. Following you is to see the Kerim each day. I love you. I will be there for you, my Kerim, or not be there as you choose. No fear. No failing. No folly."
She was stunned and pouring with admiration and not a little intimidation at this poetic declaration. She said "Well, you just blew my seduction technique out of the sky. Holy…Garrus…I love you and you deserved better words."
His arm tightened around her and he pressed her crest to her forehead again, both drawing in unsteady breaths. He said lightly "You should know that this was true long before now, and won't change whatever comes after." His mouth covered hers and he held her tight against him, his tongue swirling with spreading pleasure and his thigh moving so she rode him tortuously slow, his plate growing warm and slick under the friction, her nipples hard against his chest. His growl and the cumulative…everything…set her trembling and clutching at his shoulders, balance lost.
She was starving, needy and soaked in languor like she'd been hours in the sun, focusing on trying to move at all, her lips, her hands and her hips frantic and sporadic. It had been so long since anybody had touched her, had given her anything like this that the motion of his thigh ridge rubbing at her, just that little bit rough and rocking had her close and about to tip over, her moans against his mouth. She deliberately pushed her tongue against the tip of one of his teeth, enough to draw blood, because there wasn't a damned Turian she'd met that didn't want blood.
He stiffened and pulled back, his breathing harsh. She could see the embodiment of "Shots Fired" on his face. He was a sniper, and he was always, always ready for that. He said "I'd ask you what you want, but I think the best way to figure that out is to do all the things I want and see which ones make you pass out."
Oh fuck.
Yes.
Oh fuck yes.
He had her spun around and pushed up against the glass of the fish tank in maybe three seconds, her gasp from the change in position and cold against her cheek, against her breasts. Her body was caged in by his, and he moved her hands until they were over her head, flat against the glass, nudging her legs open wider with his knees and shoving her feet apart with his.
She said lightly "You can take the man out of C-Sec but you can't take the C-Sec out of the man?"
His laugh was harsh in her ear and said "Yeah. It's a classic. I spend so much of my time behind you, this is a favorite image, but my imagination never did you justice. I never could have imagined you smelled this good, you felt this good, you tasted this good." His talons closed around her hips and pulled her back and there he was, open, his cock digging into her back. He twisted one of her hands behind her back and down and said in a rough demand "Touch me, my Kerim."
Her hand curled, unable to fit her hand entirely around him, her hand going tingling and then numb along his length, Turian magic seeping in through the gel that coated him. He was slick, segmented, jointed and twisting through her fingers. He growled and bit down on the back of her shoulder, sharp pain causing her to whimper, still clearly an appreciative sound, and she felt the trickling warm trails of blood and his tongue on them.
His hands moved from her hips and her hand kept squeezing, stroking as he thrust against her palm and fingers. His scent became intense, distinct, all Garrus, unmistakably him and nothing but him. Turians had pheromone ridges on their shoulders and she thought he'd dragged his talons through them. Her knees and arms started to tremble. The scent strengthened as he stroked his hands over her shoulders, rubbed his face and moved his mandibles against her skin, stroked down her breasts, talons trailing, down her stomach over rioting muscle. His hands glided to her thighs and scratched lines down them, turning her trembles into shakes.
Turians didn't mark humans. Turians having sex with humans was not supposed to happen. Ferelan and other Turians had explained this to her, that it was taboo, impossible, risking becoming bare faced, stripped of Turian identity. She'd been able to share pheromone scent in the air, but never touched them or been touched by them. They were only for a potential Turian…mate. Garrus was telling her he loved her, wanted her, he chose her, he was willing to say so with his mark despite Turian tradition and social censure. She'd assumed when he mentioned scent that it would be his skin on her skin that other sensitive species was picking up, but everyone would be able to tell.
He smelled like irresistible things.
She felt a protective impulse to warn him that although Turians were monogamous, eventually anyway, bonding for a lifetime, she could not do that for him.
But then she recalled his words – first right of acceptance - no fear, no failing, no folly.
He'd asked her not to mask it with perfume and she never would.
He understood. She could be there for him, as she wanted to be, as she always would be if he asked or even if he didn't ask, understanding that the presence of other lovers would never threaten that bond. The power to love him for as long as he was willing to paint her skin. She wanted him always free to come to her, free to go to what made him happy if it was not her. To know that love was not duty. That freedom wasn't just hers, it belonged to both of them. Her head fell forward on the glass. Every emotional and physical tightness in her body and mind relaxed and the potential fulfillment of needs not filled in years, feared to be met not at all flooded her with a mix of triumph and surrender.
He licked at the back of her neck, breathing scent in long and exhaling hard, growling, setting his teeth and tongue to her skin. With feather-light delicacy from such huge hands he parted her folds wide with the V of spread fingers, the sensation of cold air followed by the stroke of his other hand on her clit making her lean more on the glass for support. Her hand faltered on his cock, sensory and emotional overload threatening her voluntary actions, and he said softly "Don't stop, my Kerim. Don't stop or I stop." His hands stilled and she whimpered, focusing on the action of her hand, overwhelmed by the movements of his, and closing her eyes, breathing through her nose to get the most of his mark. His fingers drew her slowly, patiently, whimpering and then moaning and then keening through an orgasm that made her hand convulsively tighten on him while he growled in her ear.
He took her hand off his cock with one of his, wrapped his strong fingers around her numb ones and pressed both hands against the glass. He used his other hand to stroke his cock along the crack of her ass, bending his knees to guide it between her thighs to ride her slick heat, along, but not in. She whimpered incoherently and pushed back against him. He moved his mouth to her ear and said "Do you want me?"
She said a hoarse, emphatic "Yes."
He kissed along her neck, the line of her shoulder, breathing in deeply in panting huffs, then moved his mouth back to her ear and said "Beg me, my Kerim."
There was nothing she'd rather do and she babbled in her speed to comply "Please, please, please…Garrus, please…"
He was hilted inside in a sharp movement that made her scream and blurred the edges of her vision and made things slowly spin until she closed her eyes. He lifted her feet off the ground with an arm around her waist, his hand tightly holding hers. He straightened his knees and moved inside her, twisting, earning him another scream. His growl was lower, deeper, felt through his plates everywhere they touched her body and down her spine, with a feral edge that raised goose bumps on her skin. When she tried to shift to accommodate him he started to thrust, which Turians didn't fucking do but this one did, just like he kissed, stronger Turian magic spilling into her bloodstream, scent making her lightheaded, the pain of harsh invasion transforming into blurred and warm interference patterns of spreading and rebounding pleasure. He bit down on her shoulder until she was bleeding warm trails down her back and breasts, the points where his teeth pierced little bursts of more sensation. His hand untangled from hers on the glass and moved to stroke at her clit again, her drugged mind turning his growls into the most delicious sound she'd ever heard, his fingers unerring perfection and his driving cock the pace necessary to keep her heart beating, her breath filling her lungs.
She came in a tight, rushing clamor, tried to hold onto consciousness but her vision faded in from the sides, narrowing and shrinking until it was gone, and then even his voice was gone.