A/N: advisory – M rating will be earned forthwith; if you're not into that kind of thing… there's a "back" button ;). This chapter was co-authored (as if my bumbling lead-in deserves the "co-") by the prodigiously talented T.A. Blackwell, of Only Human (which if you haven't read, you must do – you can find it under "Favourite Stories" on my profile) fame. I am exceedingly grateful to her for not only stepping out of her comfort zone to aid me with this tale, but also for making the essence of this chapter fervently sincere, alluringly sensual and heart-warmingly sweet in equal measure.
All you darling readers out there, if you like what you read below, I would wholly appreciate it if you would, more so than usual, avail yourselves of some time to leave a word of appreciation for my dear friend's scintillating effort. I have been trying with limited success to convince her of the scene's brilliance; your affirmation of that will be rewarded with pixel cookies, cake and a continuation of both this tale and Nova et Vetera (and maybe also convince her to write / publish more of her masterful works).
Thank you for brooking my rambling. Now… on with the show :)
The sky car journey home is serene and beautiful. Under the vigilant cover of night, we are mercifully blinded to the destruction surrounding us. Instead, our half-seeing eyes indulge in the scintillating stars dotting the clear midnight sky, our skin bathed in the pastel glow of the moon. We both sit in silence, content in each other's arms, lost in the residual energy of our engagement party and our idyllic dreams for the future.
"You're smiling."
"Hmmm," my hum is more an intuitive note of bliss than an actual response to your statement.
You nestle your head into the crook of my neck, your eyes wandering over my face, eventually riveting in on my own. There is such reverence in your features, as you reach up to trace a thumb over my cheek; I am still unable to fathom what I could ever have done to evoke such feelings from you. Your voice is barely a whisper as you speak, but your words reverberate within me as if they are my own.
"You once asked me why I chose to go out there and fight… why I couldn't just stay behind with you … get lost in the stars."
I nod against your hair, ruffling it, not wanting to interrupt your train of thought. You let out a soft sound of mirth as you bring your other fingers to my face, cupping my cheeks tenderly.
"It's this. You. Your freedom from strife, your safety, your deliverance. From the geth, the Collectors, the Reapers… from the corruption of indoctrination. I would give everything I am for you to spend the rest of your life like this... transcendent in your felicity."
Eloquent as ever, Shepard. Your words have always stirred such ardent feelings within me; this time is no different. I feel the familiar lump in my throat, the piquancy in my eyes as I comprehend what you are saying. I shift in my seat, twisting my body so I can face you fully, grasping you firmly in my hands. My voice is thick; I have never been this elated, but what you say… the thought of losing you again… it puts a dampener on my emotions.
"And you have, Shepard. You have. The galaxy is safe, Earth is safe, your friends are safe … I am safe. And now … we have this prospect … this hope for a life … a family together, impervious to the threat of war, sheltered from the base depravity of the Reapers. You have given everything; now … now you deserve a rest, time to enjoy the fruits of your labour. With me."
"Speaking of which … I saw you speaking to Dr Chakwas while I was –"
I cannot help the soft, amused snort which escapes my lips; this earns me a playful, indignant pinch from you. "… Dancing? Although … I am sure there are other words Joker would have used."
"Yes, well, laugh it up, T'Soni. And don't change the subject. What did she say?"
I shrug, a simple gesture I learnt from you, but which says so much more than words ever could. I make an innocent face. "I will have to look through the files she gave me. But, extrapolating from the rate of decay of your cellular tissue, coupled with the regenerative properties of the Cerberus implants, it appears as if I won't be rid of you as readily as I had hoped."
I cannot help but chortle at your slack jaw. I think you are still a bit unused to being the one on the receiving end of jokes. A roughish grin pirouettes across my face as I cup your cheek, then lightly run my hand downwards, over your chin, neck and chest. I stop just north of the spot I know you are hungering for me to brush against, chuckling softly as you reflexively push yourself closer to me. Through the soft fabric of your clothes, I can feel the reverberating bass of your heartbeat quickening, the rousing spur in your breathing. Feeling this, feeling your own hands start to wander teasingly across my stomach, my thighs, your humid breath on my neck, enkindles in me a familiar desire, an intensifying heat, a rousing twinge between my legs. Impatiently, I check how far we are away from home; I am almost beginning to regret my playfulness.
Thankfully, the discreet map in the corner of the dashboard informs me that we are only a few minutes out. Good. We have been at this little game since this afternoon, and I am almost wishing I had deferred to your stubborn insistence that we skip dinner. Absently, I am aware of your weight shifting, your head lifting away from the crook of my neck. I feel the soft pulp of your finger against my chin, the gentle yet firm pressure turning my head away from the dashboard and towards you. My gaze is directed downwards, as I drink in everything about you, every lustful curve, every infuriating barrier between us. I resist the overwhelming urge to mentally undress you as I slowly flick my shy eyes upwards to meet yours, a gesture which I know inexplicably makes your knees weak.
Every time our eyes meet like this, I feel… replete. I could lose myself in the fiery intensity of your longing forever; Goddess, one look like that from you is enough to cause that twinge to crescendo into a throbbing ache. The corner of your lips twitches as you slowly lean in to me, stopping so closely I can feel the electricity dancing across that infuriating gap. I know your lips have parted; I can feel your hot breath on me, almost taste your tongue on mine. My breath is coming fast now, and I can feel sweat begin to dampen my brow. Unable to bear the tension anymore, I eagerly surge forward, voraciously taking you into me.
The desperation with which I clutch at you would surprise me were I capable of concentrating on anything but you. Your lips are so soft, their velvety touch almost overcome by the force with which I crash into you. At once, your tongue is my mouth, its luscious, nectarine taste sweeping all over me, its damp heat causing the same to swell through my entire being. Somehow, I register that the sky car has stopped. You impatiently pull me towards you, lithely manoeuvring my body onto yours as you elbow the door open. I feel my chest burning for air, but I cannot tear myself away from you. In one swift motion, you are standing, cradling me in your arms as you fumble to access the biometric lock on our door. You stumble backwards as the door swooshes open, barely able to remain upright.
We immediately fall inside, the door automatically shutting and locking behind us. I am grateful for these little technological touches, as it means that we do not need to pause for even a moment. In the privacy of our apartment, my remaining inhibitions fade. My fingers slip into the softness of your tresses. I grip eager handfuls and pull you closer, tighter. My eyes open long enough to catch a sly smile snaking along your lips. You are amused at my zeal, but the fevered redness in your cheeks is a telling sign of the effect it has on you.
Without realizing that it has happened, you have spun me around and pressed me against the wall of our entryway. I try to catch my breath, but your mouth is on mine once more, and I cannot resist savoring you again. Fervently, my fingers curl in, enough that my short nails are digging into your scalp. You moan against me, your lips buzzing subtly against mine. Encouraged, I rake down along your neck, feeling goose bumps rise in my wake. Your sounds grow louder, despite being stifled against me, and you finally break away gasping, your breath hot and moist against the side of my neck.
"Liara …" you rasp, your tongue rolling over your upper teeth. Goddess, just hearing my name on your lips makes me light-headed, and I hastily grasp at your arm to keep from sliding to the floor. Craning my neck, I whisper my acknowledgement in your ear – my assent. "Turn around," you tell me, your hands on my shoulders, coaxing me. Your tone somehow manages to command and plead all at once, a combination that, bizarrely, makes me want you even more.
Obediently, though reluctantly, I pull my arms away from you and follow your direction. I do not even realize how much I am smiling until I break away from you and feel my cheeks ache. Facing away from you, I feel your exploratory hands on my arms, my sides, my crest. You are deliberately teasing me, and after waiting as long as we did just to get home, I am not sure that I can take much more. Just when I purse my lips, on the edge of asking you for more, I feel your fingers brush down from my neck to the zipper of my dress. With agonizing patience, you pull it downward, exposing my skin ever-so-slowly. I hear your breath hitch as you undoubtedly leer at my trembling body.
With a shrug, I slip out of the straps holding my dress up, and feel it slide down and pool against the floor. As you moan my name again, I battle my basest urges – I already want to reach out to your mind, twine with your consciousness. I want you to experience every emotion within my core as both our bodies and essences curl together and we search out ecstasy. As I feel my eyes begin to darken against my will, a gentle nip of your teeth against the crook of my neck grounds me, and I am thankful. I want to feel every caress before I get lost in the crashing waves of our meld.
Your hands roam over my newly-bared skin, and I know that you can feel me warming beneath your touch. Your tongue is against my shoulders, then my neck. Goddess, it's sliding up along the dips of my fringe, then along the ridges. I try to find purchase against the wall – something, anything, to keep me upright, and you chuckle lowly as you watch me struggle.
"I need you, Liara," you whisper against my cheek, punctuating your confession with a kiss to my jawline. Your face shifts to the opposite side, and again you speak, your voice even huskier than usual: "Please, Liara …" You always say my name; you know that it sends a honeyed chill up my spine. You draw out the 'a's as if you never want me to leave your tongue.
It is getting more and more difficult to maintain my balance, and were I not caught between you and the wall, I would assuredly have oozed into a puddle by now. You are apathetic to my obvious need to move to our bedroom; instead, you continue to toy with me. Your fingers wriggle their way to my front, tentatively sweeping over my navel, then up along the undersides of my breasts. I would think you cruel if you did not know how much I loved it. "Shepard," I start, inexplicably nervous. I am yours, and you are mine, yet I feel like the stammering naïf you rescued from that boiling planet so many years ago.
"What do you want?" you ask, smiling against my shoulder. This is a game that you love to play. You push at my boundaries – make me do and say things that I never thought I could … that I never thought I wanted. I try to speak, but I feel your breathing pick up and the telling sensation of hardening buds against my back. I have never been so resentful of a tank-top; Goddess, I want to feel your firming flesh directly against mine. Even more, I want to tell you … but I cannot force my tongue to form the words.
Reaching behind me, I stroke your cheek, beckoning you even closer. "I want …" I pause, my eyes closing as I search for what to say. "I want to thank you. I want to show you what it will mean … to spend your lifetime with me," I finally manage. My new bracelet brushes your skin; it is unintentional, but I smile at its meaning. To emphasize my words, I murmur your first name under my breath – a rarity. I feel your stomach suck in as if you have been tickled. You hold your breath, and then moan my name again. This time, the mirth has faded, replaced by appreciation and lust. Your fingers encircle my wrist and you pull me with you as you make your way deeper into our home.
I am unprepared for your reaction, but grateful. I am embarrassed by my excitement; in my ardor, I clumsily trip over my shoes and the bunched-up fabric of my dress. You deftly catch me and we laugh together, until you notice me admiring the muscular tone to your arms. Your eyebrow arches and you flick your tongue out impishly. How does such a playful gesture incite such a sweltering longing between my thighs? I silently praise my own willpower as I draw away from you and walk toward our bedroom. I would rather have leapt upon you and wrapped you in my limbs.
As we enter our bedroom, I feel your fingers hook impatiently into the waistband of my underwear. I narrow my eyes at you, a wordless reprimand acknowledging the disparity in our attire. You grin abashedly and instead pull your top up and over your head. Your hair is disheveled in its wake, which only endears me to you even more. Those locks strewn over your eyes, in tandem with your flushed skin, and your roguish expression … Goddess. That longing at my core has become a steady, throbbing beat. "You should help me with the rest," you suggest lowly, your voice a sultry growl.
"Gladly," I whisper back, my voice almost inaudible as I feel my cheeks begin to heat. I need you – more of you. I walk to the nightstand next to the bed and flick the switch on your lamp, casting the room in a dim blue light. You picked it out, telling me that blue was your favorite color. I still recall your coy expression as you told me that it reminded you of the glow of the Normandy's aquarium and the shimmering starlight that bathed our former bed. I simply smirked, stifling my giddiness, knowing the true implication of your remark.
I can see you properly now. Your gaze is unwavering, beckoning. I quickly close the gap between us, suddenly feeling predatory. My mouth is on you and I don't even know where – I just taste the inebriating tang of your skin, revel in the smoothness of it against my lips. You swear under your breath in appreciation, and it ignites a new fire within me. My fingers fumble with the fasteners on your bra; I feel like an awkward adolescent! You chuckle patiently until I finally undo the pesky latch, my eager hands quickly slipping beneath the fabric. "Goddess," I mumble. I would be embarrassed at how aroused I am by the feel of your warm flesh beneath my palms if I were not so caught up in my desire.
As I brush over one of your nipples with my thumb, just the way that you like to be touched, I cannot help but reminisce about our first experiences together – my foolishness and neuroses make me laugh now. I would be lying if I said that my cheeks did not purple when I think of my desperation for you, but I am no longer anxious about how to please you. Over the years, I have learned your cues: the moment your breath catches, the way you whimper my name, the tension of your muscles, the feel of your fingers gripping my crest. To think that I assumed I could simply find all the answers on the extranet! By the Goddess, I am thankful that you never found my copy of Vaenia.
Our mouths meet again, our tongues hungry for contact. I realize that I am not the only one overwhelmed by impatience when your hand grips mine, pulling it down to the hem of your jeans. My pulse is so heavy now that I feel delirious, but I manage to undo the button of your fly as you absently kick off your boots. Taking a step forward, I guide you to our bed until the backs of your calves bump against its edge. Our kiss breaks and you strip off your loosened bra, your chest heaving. I ogle you shamelessly, and although I expected myself to be enraptured by your breasts, it is your moistened, swollen lips that distract me. I surge forward and capture one of them between my own, sucking on it ravenously.
I do not know how much time passes, but I am startled when I feel your hand slip between my legs. My cry releases your lip, and I squeeze my thighs together, unwilling to let your fingers escape. Your forefinger lightly runs over the thin fabric of my panties and I fluster. Now you know how long I have been thinking about this, how much I want it. My eyes shyly dart toward the floor, and your free hand cups my chin, forcing my gaze back to you.
"Liara," you begin, your voice slightly hoarse. You kiss the corner of my mouth before continuing, "Touch me. I've been fantasizing about you all day." Somehow, you manage to read my mind even outside of our joinings. My hand wriggles its way beneath both of your layers of clothing and I draw in a sharp breath as I instantly feel wetness.
That is my breaking point. I withdraw my hand and shove you backward onto the mattress. You topple over in surprise and laugh at my sudden aggressiveness, and I cannot help but grin devilishly. You helpfully lift your hips as I grab the cuffs off your form-fitting jeans and tug them off with a flourish. Ah! Finally, some equity in our attire. That settled, I pounce atop you, my body writhing against yours. Your leg presses up between my thighs and I reflexively rock against it, desperate for the friction. I see your eyes squint shut and your jaw clench as my arousal hits your flesh. "My god, Liara. You are so fucking hot," you rumble, your hands on my hips, pushing me back and forth against your thigh. There is something unspeakably sexy about the way you devolve from stunningly articulate to wantonly crass.
"Goddess, Shepard, I …" I … what? I have devolved right along with you. Words escape me; all that exists is you and this building pleasure at my core. "Harder," I finally manage, and I am alarmed when you drop your leg instead. My eyes widen as I look at you imploringly, searching out your darkened expression. And then, Goddess! Your hand has replaced your thigh. Your fingers are inside my panties. Shepard, I … yes! Your touch is overzealous, but confident. You are already inside me before I realize what has happened. I throw my head backward and arch, bucking against your hand. I clench at your thrusting digit, my eyes watering. I ask for more… at least, I think that I do. At the very least, I mouth the word, even if no sound escapes my lips. You seem to understand as you push your middle finger in with the first.
I want to reciprocate. I want to feel you grind against my palm. I want to give you so much, but I selfishly take instead. I feel the damp sheen of sweat undoubtedly making my skin glisten in the room's dim lighting as I ride you, the tingle of biotics beginning to shoot along my veins and flare outward. It is time – I test your willingness as I reach out to you, my blue eyes swirling black. I feel no resistance; instead, you smile in adoration and murmur a quiet but distinct, "Yes." As my consciousness wraps itself up in yours, I feel warmth, wholeness. But, were I to tell the whole truth, I feel far more than love for you. I crave you. I am on the brink, and I show you that. I am, as you humans say, putty in your hands.
Your words tickle the back of my mind.
Come for me, Liara.
Your eyes remain affixed to mine as your thumb grazes the hypersensitive bud above my opening, and I jerk as though an electrical current has shot through me. You squirm beneath me; I know you can feel the faint echoes of your own touches through our joining – something which has only exacerbated my arousal. I am close … so close …
I cannot properly describe what happens next. I know it is cliché, but Goddess, it is bliss. You deftly rub me as I throb underneath your thumb, and the ache I have felt all day long begins to intensify until I am nearly there. I hang on the edge, fighting it, prolonging the sensation, but one nimble stroke of your finger against a particularly delicate spot inside of me shoves me over the threshold. My muscles convulse around your fingers as I tremble erratically. I tumble forward, bracing myself with a palm against the mattress as my biotics pulse uncontrollably and I cry out in agonizing pleasure.
My thoughts are a jumble; my head is fogged. I struggle to catch my breath, to regain my bearings. I blink, my vision blurry around the edges, and I finally manage to find your face through the haze. You are smirking. Of course. I would find your arrogance infuriating were I not so wholeheartedly appreciative of your ministrations. I laugh despite myself, and then you join in – we are deliriously woozy, relishing the giddy sensation. My limbs feel unbearably heavy, so my body collapses limply atop you. The fingers of your free hand trace comforting swirls along my back, your touches feather-light and nearly ticklish.
I must admit, I feel drowsy. I feel as though I could curl up against your exquisite body and drift into a sleep full of the sweetest dreams. But never fear, my love. I would never deny you your turn. Your eyes widen and you waggle your eyebrows at me … what? Oh … no. We are melded. You can feel these thoughts now.
"Wow, I'm so glad you're willing to get me off, too, T'Soni. You're the most generous asari in the whole galaxy," you tease, withdrawing your fingers from inside me.
The fiery blush in my cheeks spreads all the way back to my fringe. I try to glare at you, but only end up giggling coquettishly instead. Although my muscles ache, I begin to crawl down your body, placing languid kisses against your collarbone, your breasts, your abdomen. I look up and see you conspicuously licking your fingers, and I can vaguely taste myself on the back of my tongue, thanks to the intensity of our meld. Even better, I … I feel how much you enjoy it. It is exhilarating, and I feel my yearning renewed, the pulsing returned. My fingers slide beneath the waistband of your underwear, and I slowly ease them all the way down your legs until you instinctively kick them off.
As my hot breath wafts over you, I feel you tense and I hear you whimper. I coax your thighs apart and I can smell how much you want me. Your wet skin shimmers in the blue glow of the room and I feel a longing tug at my gut. My eyes close and my head dips, my tongue flicks out and strokes you in a wide, long motion. Your taste is indescribable, and all I can think about is how much I want more. I wriggle between your folds, gathering more moisture, and you whine. I know this teases you; I know where you really want me to touch, but I selfishly take my fill of you, licking around your entrance.
Your fingers seek out the back of my head. They are still wet from my arousal and your saliva, making your motions all the more fluid as you fondle the length of my tendrils. Every touch makes me fidget, and it is not long before I feel compelled to humor you. My darkened eyes shoot upward to meet yours as my tongue ever-so-slightly makes contact with your firm, throbbing ridge. As you cry out my name, your thighs squeezing the sides of my head, I feel my heart seize with affection and desire. My eyes glaze over. I want to spend my whole life doing this, touching you, pleasing you, hearing my name cross your lips.
Then, I remember … I can.
PS: remember – my gratitude, wedding bells and blue babies will be exchanged (held at ransom ;p) for your duly-deserved accolades for the peerless T.A. Blackwell. This chapter was all her, and she really did put a lot into it. Cheers m'dears.
