A/N: And now its my turn! Just a few announcements for those who have made it this far (thank you for your readership and reviews), most character arcs will be 3 or 4 chapters in length. The first set takes place pre Me1, the second from the Battle of the Citadel till before Shepard's reawakening, the third during the events of ME2, and the final one during the Reaper invasion.

As I'm sure you've figured out by now, several characters have interlocking arcs. This was painstakingly planned and executed; we all worked very hard.

Lastly I'd like to invite YOU, dear reader, to join Aria's Afterlife, the NUMBER ONE Mass Effect forum here on fanfiction.

Enjoy!

*Beep Beep Beep Bee-*

I slapped the alarm override. Damn the Citadel, and its 20 hour days... humans were meant to adjust to longer days, not shorter.

Groaning, I reluctantly rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and sat up, running a hand over my short brown hair, seeking my clothes with squinted eyes.

Why do I do this to myself, waking up so early...

There. That's why.

Softly moaning and turning over in her sleep was Jen, my love and my life.

And quite the sappy romantic you sound. Good job, Tiberius.

But it was true. We had been together on Earth, and when I finally had enough from my storefront, working camps, delivering mattresses, cleaning aquariums, cleaning guns, sharpening blades, debugging omnitools- I leased a small kiosk space, an apartment, and got all the necessary permits to do business on the galactic hub. Reaching over gently, I brushed her flowing, curly brown hair back gently, rubbed her back slowly, then gave her a nice slap on the ass.

"What... the hell... Do you have morning stiffness you need worked on again?"

I laughed. That's my Jen!

"No honey. Just getting ready to leave for work. Gonna sell some good stuff today! If I can move some of this new line fast enough, we can take that vacation on Illium! Then we can do that thing we've been talking about." I raised a finger to forestall her response. " You did say everything was on the table, including on the table."

She looked up abruptly. "How about we trade that thing for those two other things?"

"I knew that would get your attention. Don't be late for morning classes!"

I got up, took a shower, trimmed my facial hair back down to 'epic merchant': Full sideburns, split beard, and handlebar mustache. Flexing my muscles for ego... look at that body. Maybe Jen was right about the morning nightstick after all... I checked my social networking feeds, market prices, shipping updates, inventory, and sales tax. Damn the Council and their taxes.

While auction, secondhand, distributed orders, and trades did not require a sales tax to be kept (well, outside of premiums at some establishments), outgoing sales needed to have sales tax collected.

Essentially, my money was taxed in an unending loop: Galactic tax for my personal pay as well as payroll to any employees (usually fired within a week), plus Alliance citizen federal tax. Then, the money my corporation received was taxed by the Citadel and the Alliance. Then Citadel payroll tax. Then I had to remit sales tax to the Citadel, as well as rent. Ostensibly, the rent payments went to the owner of the 'bazaar block', but really ended up in the hands of the Council's burser. Ah well.

With a long and hard goodbye kiss (Even after four years together, my tongue still gets sore after one of those) I left the apartment, and began the long and arduous commute to the kiosk a full hundred yards away. From the transport terminal in the commercial sector, that is- still an elevator ride and a tram ride away.

In the elevator this fine morning was a grumpy krogan (who I stayed well away from), some minor turian bureaucrat, a salarian, and a volus.

Opening my omnitool, I tried to catch the latest news, something about geth assaulting more colonies. Good thing I'm here on the Citadel, right? And to think that one decision a generation or two back could have meant being on Mindoir, or Eden Prime, or Elysium...

"Human. You're in my space." The krogan was growling, shoving his scarred visage in my face.

"Apologies, good sir. Say, that Eviscerator looks a little weathered. You wouldn't happen to need any mods, a cleaning service, a serial number filed off?"

The krogan's snarl turned to cautious interest. "You wouldn't happen to have any... toxic mods, would you?"

"Any particular species you are looking to eviscerate?"

The krogan looked thoughtful for a second. "I'm getting hired to storm a quarian ship that's apparently being stolen tomorrow."

My eyes widened, going in for the kill. "As it happens, I have some polonium blocks, a microflechette chip mod, and a jar of varren dung for you. That way, you get multiple suit ruptures, radiation infection, and you render the ship unclean."

The others in the elevator, leaning away when the krogan started rumbling, now turned to hear the conversation.

The krogan leased a belly laugh. "I like this human! He understands!"

The salarian approached me. "Uh, excuse me, I take it you're an arms dealer?"

Beaming with 'pink cat' warmth, I turned to face the salarian, my brown eyes steady on his twitching orbs. "Why yes indeed, sir. I take it you need something..." I scanned him quickly, casual attire, holobinder, low-grade omnitool... "...to protect the shop with? Or perhaps you need a personal carry weapon?"

Orbs blinking rapidly, he said, "Why yes, I need some less-than-lethal cryo rounds for my shop shotgun, and could use a blade or a concealed pistol."

"Well, follow me to my storefront then!"

Very rarely did I score so well without even having set up shop. That Salesmanship merit badge really was a Piaget for my life, it seemed...

"Heres your Eviscerator modkit... thank you! Have fun!" Now to deal with the salarian.

"Do you have a kiosk or storefront, many doors or one? General clientele?"

The salarian, still twitching, said, "Well, there is one hallway going into my stall..."

"Excellent! Here you are, this recoil pad and smart choke should do."

"...and my clientele are usually elcor. And volus. And vorcha. And turians. And humans... well, just about everything."

I raised an eyebrow. "What precisely do you sell or offer?"

Now it was his turn to beam. "I am one of the largest holozine outlets for Fornax on the Citadel! I have subscriptions available, whether you like the parent or any subsidiaries: GenitElcor, VorchTorch, Fringe Benefits, Drell Drillers, Fleet and Flotitties, Krogasm, Consexus, League of Buns- my personal favorite- Blue Rose, Holy Hegemony, ReaperCreepers, Jelly Jam, Volhole. Parnack Pleasures, just about all the Fornax subsidiaries, really."

"Huh. Well how about you set me up with an account, and I'll give you the mods and an omnitool upgrade in return."

The salarian beamed, sensing the awesomeness of the deal. "I'll get to it now! Thank you, Mr..."

"Tiberius Gaiterus. And you are welcome, Mr...?"

"Salun Tork."

"Ahh. How about we meet after closing over at Chora's? I'll bring my partner."

"Sounds great! See you then!"

The rest of the day went normally enough, lovesick people looking for jewelry in a grand romantic gesture sure to be spurned or met with pepper spray.

Just as I was about to finish lunch, a rough-looking group of individuals walked in- an asari, a human, a batarian, and a volus. They all looked to be adolescent in age, and clearly weren't there to debate steel grades.

The volus waddled up to the counter, obviously a decoy.

"hhhkkkt. Hello deuce stain shit-clan. Hhhhkkkt I was wondering if we could rob you. Hhhkkkt"

I couldn't help but laugh. The asari's hand glowed blue, but it was a very faint biotic trail that appeared. The batarian and the human pulled knives- Chinese export quality- and started advancing.

Still bubbling with mirth at the 'gang's plan, I brought up my omnitool, locking down the unit.

"If you're so desperate to die, why didn't you just hold up a C-sec outpost?" I hit a button, and a biotic dampening field jammed the asari's amp, sending a surge that knocked her unconscious.

"hhhkkkt NO! Not my Leany! Hhhkkkt Wax him! Hhhkkkt"

The batarian and human advanced, shoulders touching- what absolute idiots- looking grim but scared. Sighing, I pulled my Ontario Spec Plus machete knife, placed my left hand on the counter, and vaulted. I pivoted in-air, landing on my feet, back to the wannabes. Still riding the momentum of the landing, I rocked back on the ball of my right foot, swinging my hips get the extra view angle. My right arm extended with the knife, held with the bottom edge facing backwards relative to me. The front edge sliced across the faces of the punks, and my left arm followed with a secondary omniblade attack, slicing their weapons.

The human dropped his useless hilt and wet himself, cowering on the floor. The batarian just stood there, dumbstruck. Eventually, she gathered up the soiled human and the asari, and left without a word with the volus stuttering at her lack of initiative.

And thus was my boring life.

Opening the unit and leaving a tip to C-Sec, I resumed my fried spam and purple gorshna fruit, enjoying the flavor clash. A thick spicy sauce, loaded with fresh shiim from Kahje and Anaheim pepper extract- the combination was a staple for any drell/human fusion cuisine- dripped over the succulent squares of canned, greasy meat. I bit into the treat, nearly orgasming at the delightful culinary bouquet and my reflection from the counter mirror combined, the grease runnels flowing into my beard, becoming a sexy cologne that would guarantee head tonight. The meat, bread and sauce were processed greedily in my mouth, merging to... Do I really want to think about this?

No matter, in comes a customer.

Oh sure, you need a full blade service? That'll be 15 credits good sir. May I suggest browsing while you wait?

I took his machete to the grinder. I didn't use vise grips on my wheel, I used skill born of years of experience. Twenty degree angle, a simple concave grind. The convex and double-lip bench grinds were much harder to replicate...

I started with the wire buff, flipping the switch on the ancient Westinghouse motor. Solenoids now powered turned the crankshaft, spinning the wheel at a full 350 rpm.

With a deep concentration, the machete's steel approached the buff. Halting so the outer rust and grime layer would be removed-but not the outer chromium oxide layer- I worked the blade so it became smooth as an asari matriarch's meld. Switching to my coarse aluminum oxide wheel, I moved the steel- AUS-6M by the sound of it, weird grade for a machete-back into cutting order. Moving to my fine titanium silicate wheel, I repeated the process, adding just a minute fraction of a degree to the twenty, honing the edge and shaving off enough to make the very edge as keen as possible.

Satisfied with the patina, I pulled out a microfiber rag and a bottle of industrial silicon metal lubricant. (Turns out ironwood is not a metal it's good for...) and rubbed in the liquid to protect the exposed ferrous metal, allowing it to be protected until the chromium could oxidize on the cut surface.

Choosing a red rouge gentle buff, I replaced wheels again with the cloth, ran it, and applied the material. Running the wheel over the machete, the chromium accepted the grease and shone as a sword from a fairy tale.

One blade done and a line of people with similar needs have stacked up.

Dammit, if the little bastards that I tried hiring were any good, I'd have them running the counter while I handled the delicate stuff. But they always went for the iridium, sterling, platinum… and generally got gunned down fairly quickly. My shop Mossberg and Raven make a mean team in that regard.

Next, a few long hours of answering and servicing hormone-ridden pimply incurable romantics, frankly creepy knife enthusiasts, and the local krogan BDSM club… nothing outrageously weird.

Why yes, this will match that hair color, no you can't go less than 35, I've slashed to 17% below retail already! Yes that steel can go through krogan, yes that one will break off inside a krogan… Oh that's why you want it… Here, how about a mod? Why yes I carry smart chokes, recoil dampers. Here's an iron sight, you hardcore retro shooter.

Finally closing shop, locking all the cases, securing all equipment and wiping down all counters, I activated the alarms and sauntered off. Time for that business meeting at Choras…

I met Jen at the markets alley and we had a dirty quickie behind a Tupari machine; I'm pretty sure at least three people used it while we were using each other, (one with small children) but we were sated for the moment. I think we used a punk kicking the machine to cover the climactic finish, but I honestly don't remember.

Entering arm-in-arm to the club, I nodded off the bouncer and he cleared the drunk turians from my customary table. I serviced his weapons and furnished the female workers with protection, I got drinks and a perpetual booth. I ordered a beer and a shot for us both, then sat cuddled waiting for the salarian.

Sure enough, just as the heady bass beat, the drinks, and Jen's warmth were causing me to drift into a peaceful state, Salun Tork walked in.

Jen looked up, her nose trailing through my beard for a moment. I signaled the bouncer to direct the salarian my way.

"Mmmm… did my man have some Spam today?" Jen had trailed a teasing finger from my forehead to my belly and was making rude motions in front of my belt.

"Damn right I did. Giving you any ideas?" I smirked. Laughing, she looked into my eyes and slid down the table, and began going to work, slaking her taste for potted meat with my man meat. Salarian business customs did not warrant a handshake and all parties rising, not when negotiating, so I was vacuumed in peace as the mag magnate slid into the booth across from me.

"What's your pleasure, Tork?" As I had already fulfilled my end of the deal, I could address him by either name and it would be polite.

"Orbvolt Red, extra gingnam rubol."

The drink was carried over almost immediately by a barmaid, and we began business.

"So, Mr. Gaiterus. Have you held Fornax accounts before?"

"YESSS! Ahem, I did hold accounts with Fornax and subsidiaries back on Earth but I needed to cancel the account because of the TEETH, BABY! Erm, cost of shipping from my old supplier."

"Yes, yes, understandable. I can get you a low-rate mid-volume option with stock and delivery insurance, all versions, plus a display rack that can be used blatantly or discreetly."

"YEEEEESSSS! Ahm, sounds great to me. You have the paperwork necessary?"

"Transmitting files now to your omnitool."

"Oh, how I love PAPERWOOOOOOOOOORK!" I couldn't help but scream the last word as insane suction was placed on my man root, and the results were efficiently taken care of.

Jen slid back up and started giving me a long and deep kiss, while poor Tork just sort of looked on…

"Salun Tork, Jen; Jen, Salun Tork."

The salarian nodded tersely, his drink obviously wreaking havoc with his short-term processing.

I filled out the forms and sent them back. "Excellent. You should have the first delivery by next Wednesday. Oh, also; received urgent call. Small clinic on Omega needs rush order scalpels, and has the funds to pay for such and order. Here is the contact information, do with it what you will."

I thanked the salarian and we went off to our apartment.

I opened my spare business comm terminal, and opened the channel.

"Solus Walk-in Clinic, How may I direct your call?" A homely turian female answered the hail.

"Ah, I'm Tiberius Gaiterus with Gaither Blade and Bling? I received an urgent message to contact a Dylan Owens."

"One moment please."

After a few moments a fresh-faced lad in scrubs appeared. "Hello?"

I cleared my throat. "Ah, yes, Tiberius Gaiterus with Gaither Blade and Bling? I've got contact information for a Dylan Owens about a scalpel order?"

"Ah, finally. Can't believe we've managed to run , yeah I'm gonna need 'em. As quick as you can get 'em out here."

"Quick, eh?" I turned my right eye towards the screen more, letting a smirk play on my face. "DO you need organic delivery or a secured drop-off?" I asked this already knowing the answer, on Omega there was hardly such thing as organic delivery.

"Yeah, we need a secure drop-off. And trust me, you're gonna want some guards. I don't even wanna think about why the mercs love stealing scalpels so much."

"Unfortunately, I do know." I offer a laugh without much mirth. "And its not for the glory of Hippocrates, either. Will the drop-off be at a dead drop or a specific location?"

"If you can get them to the clinic here…" the assistant uploaded a marked area map, "that'd be great. We don't exactly have the manpower to pick them up from somewhere."

I furrowed my brow slightly to increase negotiation tension. "I see… looks like I may need to pay off at least one gang to get to you. It's gonna cost, unfortunately. I can do it, but you're looking at 8 nonnegotiable in security and four for the product, containing 15 thousand units."

"So 12 total?" The assistant apparently received a cue from offscreen to continue. "How about 10 with the promise of any future business?"

Stroking my beard, I pretended to consider the offer. Already I was making good, and staying within this small clinic's means. Now just to make it appear…

"Ten with promise sounds good. As a gesture of goodwill I'll add n surgical-grade sharpeners, blade sealant, and a UV sterilizer for sharps."

The young man beamed, "Perfect. So when can we expect the shipment?"

Digging out my schedule chip and inserting it into my omnitool, I checked my shipping company's times. "As it so happens, I can have the product and my…" I coughed lightly to cover any strange inflection, "Security team ready to go by tonight, by civilian transport should only take maybe three days."

"Sweet. We will be waiting anxiously!"

"I'll just need you to fill out a few forms and forward your account information…"

"Ok! Forwarding banking and delivery information now."

The line went dead after both sides confirmed transferal of funds and receipt of information, our business concluded.

Sighing, I took my clothes off and began packing for the trip, light tactical gear and spare mods, my extra guns, all sorts of nonmetal blades.

"Where you gonna be headed, baby?" Jen's soft voice met my ear as she wrapped her arms around my neck from behind.

"Omega, honey. Gotta deliver that crate of surgical stuff I picked up for a song."

I could hear the brow furrow as she gently kissed my neck. "Be sure to have all your protection and follow our rules, love."

"Oh, I will." I turned and met her embrace, consummating our love on top of a loaded shotgun.

As the transport docked, I put on my mercenary airs, and prepared to take the crate out into the slums. I hired a Blood Pack vorcha to take me through their territory unharmed, only having to raise my shotgun once or twice.

As I reached the doors, the barrel of a Carnifex met me, and a salarian in a white lab coat stood behind it. A deep sniff. "Human, quite well armed, but escorted by Blood Pack. Strange, encroaching on Blue Suns. Not sick, does not seek aid, posture tense but nonthreatening. Could change anytime. Would have to shoot."

"Ah, excuse me, I'm supposed to deliver these to a Dr. Mordin Solus? Tiberius Gaiterus, Gaither Blade and Bling."

"Ahh, apologies. Thank you for time and effort, must see to patients, no time for pleasantries. Had to leave an open heart surgery to receive shipment. Goodbye!" Two LOKI model mechs stepped forward to receive the crate, and my end was done.

I turned to the vorcha, "Blue Suns territory? Get us the hell outta here!"

"Rrrrrrraaawwwwwwrrrr! Human safe, must go now."

Hurriedly, I left the area, and back to the main corridors of Omega.

Ahh, theres Afterlife. I was bumped into suddenly, a young rocker and his flame-haired woman collided with me, obviously paying a bit more attention to each other than their surroundings.

"Forgive me!" I said before they controlled the tone. "I didn't see you coming. I'm Tiberius Gaiterus, pleased to meet you…?"

"Ahh, I'm RJ and this is Kacie."

"A pleasure. Say, Kacie, how would you like a sterling bracelet? I happen to have one with jade, actually. Sets off your hair…" I gave them a once-over, "And I'm sure it would draw more attention to you onstage!" I produced the item. "What about it, RJ? Its only 25 credits, and if there is any fault, there is a list of jewelers on the back of this card who will correct it at my expense."

"Ahh, well…"

"Please, RJ? The man obviously knows what he's talking about? And its so pretty!"

"Yeah, sure, man. Here ya go." A flick with fingers meant to strum the guitar sent a chit my way, which I plucked out of the air and hid in my tac vest.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know how to get in on the fun in there, would you?

RJ thought a bit, then responded, "You might want to talk to my krogan buddy for that. Hey, Wrok!"

A well-built krogan, obviously young but capable, sauntered over.

"What do you need, RJ? The krogan turned his beady eyes on me. "This human causing problems?"

"Oh, Wrok, no! He just needs some… direction." Kacie spoke up, still admiring the bracelet on her wrist and turning it to catch the light.

"He was wondering about the… baser entertainment. I gotta go. Thanks for the bracelet, man!"

The krogan looked at me. "Hehehe. You shoulda seen his sick drum rhythm I was just laying on this girl. Came up with a whole improv… Anyway, what do you need to know?"

"Just who do I need to go through for access."

"Well, generally if you can flash the dough you get in quick when its Merle running door. Just dress up nice. Vanessa Valentine's the one to see, just lookout for this chick," He produced a photo, "and clink triplets in your pocket."

"Thank you kindly!"

The krogan rumbled again with mirth. "Have fun. And if you get the same one that just gave me the most amazing head… I'm sorry in advance."

I headed for the nearest public restroom to switch out my tac gear for my tux. Time to have a little bit of fun.

The pounding of the bass and the keen of the soprano club music tugging at my very soul, I sauntered through the bar. Even in my tuxedo, I was an imposing figure, and I had more than enough non-metal blades and implements should anyone decide to get physical.

I made sure only to frequent the bar corners with human patrons; would hate to have a gut-liquefying toxin end my awesomeness now. Soon, the drinks allowed my other, baser instincts to cry out for attention. Jen was damn good, but she was on the Citadel right now. Besides, she gave me permission... No diseases, and record the show, ok baby? Who would have thought I'd be so fortunate to have her as a partner?

Snapping back to reality, I scanned for the recommended pimp...

There. Ex-Alliance military from my tip, biotic with excellent hand-to-hand reputation... So I figured it would be wisest not to haggle too much. I strode past, then made the signal, clinking credit chits a certain way in my pocket. Sure enough, her noted sharp hearing picked up the signal and she fell into step behind me.

Steering towards the 'business booth', I took a seat, facing away from the pimp by design.

"Your fancy?" An accent- certainly Chinese origin, but with the eclectic tang of Malaysian- met me. I considered my request for a few seconds.

"Preferably human, someone into weird stuff, and loves the foreplay. I'm not a one-pump chump, I prefer to go at an easy pace."

"Weird, huh? Don't wanna scare off any of the fresh girls, now do we. How about Ratakar, Krogan maneater?"

"Umm, I'll do a lot, but a krogan called 'maneater' probably isn't the best..."

"Ohhh, Eva Harper, Cuebone Extraordinaire is for you."

"Price?" I asked bluntly, hoping to gain an upper edge.

"8 thousand, one hour." The immediate reply.

"4 thousand, full session, and I'll treat her as a true lady."

"6 thousand and you'll do that anyway."

"Five four. And she will be happy for days".

"Hm. Tall order, big guy." Suddenly a hand was on my crotch, clinically appraising. "Well, I suppose if you've got skill to match the spear..."

I grinned. "No worries, comel. It is as if I have already sampled her nasi kangkang."

I could hear the pimps' shock in the rustle of clothes. "Well, you are into the weird stuff."

"Salesman habit, analyzing then pink catting. So where is this extraordinary lady?"

"Down the hall, third room on the left. Have fun, but not too much fun. I still need my cathouse intact." A hidden door opened, revealing the hallway. I held up my credit chit, which got scanned quickly, then headed to my destination.

As I opened the door, classical music was playing, and the room was softly lit. Fancy. Must have done a speed search on my preferences. I looked around, and my eyes fell upon one of the most beautiful women I had ever met, sitting on the edge of the bed.

A cascade of golden hair sat on her shoulders, a tight red dress complimented her curves, hugging her breasts, belly, and buttocks. Eyes- green? Hard to pinpoint with this light- met mine, holding a false light, sadness- but also determination and hope. My analysis was that she voluntarily chose this path temporarily, possibly to further herself in a pursuit or another.

I stood straight up, not really caring that my dress pants were stretched forward. A significant amount. "Hello, milady. I am Tiberius Gaiterus, proprietor of a knife and jewelry exchange. You must be the beauteous Eva Harper, Cuebone Extraordinaire?"

Nervously, she blushed and looked away slightly, crossing her legs and drawing herself in. "Why yes, yes I am. I'm assuming you're here for my services?"

"I am indeed, but let's not rush things, shall we?" I gave a reassuring smile, then moved to sit next to her. I shed my jacket vest and button down, leaving my undershirt and dress pants. Making an expression as if I had just remembered something, I reached into my discarded vest and pulled out a small plastic baggie. I pulled out two 24 carat gold earrings, with dangling topaz droplets on sterling, the vertices of the facets implanted with diamond.

Seeing her eyes widen, I reached over gently and placed them in her ears.

"Bowie kept most of the old Texan customs, including state gem. It's just plain luck I had topaz teardrops; so fitting since I'm guessing you're using this line of work as a jumping-off point." I reached over and held one of her hands in my lap, and put my other on her right cheek, turning her head towards me. "Tell me then, about you." I focused my eyes intently on hers, listening to her tale, squeezing her hand, stroking her arm, wiping a tear whenever it was warranted.

"I… I'm not entirely sure where to begin, I… well... "

"How did a sweet woman like you end up here on Omega? Don't you have a family?"

"Family? Hah!" A bitter laugh, from the very depths of her soul, bubbled up, marring her form with the emotional release. "An ex-husband who decided to knock up another woman while on a mission, six brothers who only wanted to drag me down? That's no family. That's liability." Her lips started quivering in earnest. "I left Bowie with my savings, figured I'd start a new life here; this was as far as I could get. I came to Afterlife, I mean, it has the reputation. I was hoping to get a job as a dancer, something I could pour my heart and soul into, something I could escape to, if even for a few minutes. That's what kept me going before, the cathartic release, the slipping into a whole new state of mind, of consciousness. But instead, I was tricked into… into…" the last bits of composure dropped from her angelic face, hot tears spilled from her hardened eyes, tears she had thought had been expunged fully at least a few months ago. Raw sobs consumed her, burning up the bitterness. "I don't… I don't even know why I'm telling you this… you're just a John, you should be fucking me, not listening and… and…"

I merely kept hold of her hand, and brushed her cheek tenderly.

When she was done, she looked up through her bangs, finally meeting my eyes fully. "So now we're...?"

In answer I locked my lips to hers, and allowed my tongue to reach out and explore her mouth. Judging by the minty fresh taste, she had thankfully washed, which I suddenly realized was spearmint, probably because she had just given a krogan head.

My tongue's retreat must have signaled to her to begin explorations of her own though, but I patiently waited it out, trying not to think about the potential Horde swimming in vain...

Mouths parted, I stopped her hands from their quick dive to her hem, and instead lifted her arms sensually up, then trailed my chin down her front, gripped the hem between my teeth and started back up. Wait... when was the last time this has been washed and what is that stain I just... stop thinking...

I placed my hands on her calves, then trailed them up as I dragged the dress up, delaying seeing her unwrapped for just a little bit longer. I gently pushed her back, and tossed the crimson piece to the side.

A loud clamor...

"Frack! What the hell..." I exclaimed, jumping in shock.

Apparently I had blind-tossed the dress into a candelabra... a REAL candelabra... and started a minor fire.

"Quick! Massage my prostate!" I unzipped and aimed my unit towards the fire. I looked over my shoulder at the shocked woman, and laughed, showing I wasn't serious. Well, not completely unserious.

"Seriously though, where's the fir-"

Suddenly controlled gas bursts put out the fire and silence reigned. "Oh. Ok." Was all I could lamely say.

"Here, let me get you out of the rest of that..." Deft fingers removed my undershirt, trousers, and opossum skin banana hammock.

Soon I was fully exposed, and she merely had a black lacy bra and black French ribbon thong covering her.

I returned to the bed, held her in an embrace, hands creeping up her back, feeling the shakes of trepidation, unnatural, unlike the shivers of arousal. Slowing a bit, I whispered into her ear and stroked the back of her neck: "You have nothing to fear from me, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you." I paused . "Well, unless that's what generates your mass effect core."

A soft laugh escaped her, sweet sounding as the rustle of wind through cornfields. But without the weevils- weevils don't make cornfields peaceful and dreamy.

I flicked the ribbon undone and watched hungrily as she slowly let the top fall, allowing perfectly tanned globes to swing free, pink areolas already pebbling in anticipation. Adoringly, I let my hands roam the hills and valleys, hardening nipples in their wake. I lowered my mouth to one, licking and suckling on the offering, eliciting a moan. I repeated the ritual on the other, then ran my hands downward to the tiesides, deftly unknotting the gossamer article.

A well-trained hand explored her soft sex, seeking to unleash the torrent of Aphrodite .

First the bundle of nerves was allowed to peek out, then encircled and grazed obliquely. Sweet, precious minutes later, a finger, slicked by Venus' river, entered the passage and sought the raspberry pleasure patch. Providing constant pressure, I started nipping and licking Eva's neck, feeling her pulse quicken by the second.

Seeing her flushed and taught, feeling the fluids of readiness, I breathed, "So this 'cueboning' title- that wouldn't happen to be the same cueboning technique from Fringe Benefits?"

"Oh yes it is! Here's a cuebone for you." Putting a finger in her mouth then trailing it down my chest, she took a firm hold of my iron, then stooped forward, 36 DD breasts hovering by the tip. Smoothly, she used my member to strike the hardened nipples, the sensations novel and erotic.

Then, she took it one step farther, slapping southward to softly strike my suspended scrotum, hard enough to feel a twinge, but soft enough not to cause damage.

Groaning at the precise skill and care she was showing, I was forced to halt her so I wouldn't end the session early.

"Any other crazy requests?" There was an animalistic glint in her eyes now- she was actually enjoying the session.

I flopped my arm back and found my jacket. I reached into another pocket and withdrew an obsidian blade, edge microns thick. Smartly twirling and flipping it in my hand, I presented it handle-first to Eva.

"Up for it? First layer only."

Her answering smile devilish, she responded, "My, but you are different."

Laying back, I smirked in kind. "So far you've... Ohhh yes..."

Gently, the blade was placed on my chest, edge angled to the skin, tracing patterns simple and complex over the skin. Quick-cooled glass possessing one of the keenest edges known to the galaxy, any sudden bump or misjudgment would result in a painful wound.

Suddenly the cool material was grazing sensitive patches on my torso, and I had to fight to keep from arching my back and wriggling in pleasure. The lava chunk flowed downward in a lazy zig-zag, finally turning so the tip only traversed the fleshy areas of below.

I nodded my approval at her work, assenting to the quality of the performance.

Still holding the blade, she looked uncertain for about a split second, before I gave an expression of reassurance.

She used a particular wrist-flick to send the knife spinning into the far wall, out of the way so as not to turn our fun into snuff. All true Bowie colonists knew how to work blades.

"How did I..." her voice testing...

As a response, I levered up and took hold of her shoulders, planting a deep kiss on her heated lips.

Gently, I rolled to be in the dominant, and ran the back of my fingers down her tanned body.

I stayed that way a full minute, rebuilding her own arousal, then gently contacted my swollen tip to her hot, moist, and very ready core, moving delicately so as not to evoke any unpleasant psychological reactions.

When she finally parted her legs enough, I began the ancient dance, and in that dance, time stood still, cares were washed away, and only two beings mattered.

Soon I could sense her readiness, as her noises increased in intensity, her eyes closed tight and hands gripped sheets. I was careful to caress her triggers, and suddenly a tightening and intense screaming announced her peak.

Riding the wave, I barely managed to keep my own in check, reducing my movements to stay on the brink. Stroking behind her knees, I extended her own reaction, from the 'natural' 20 seconds to a full 40 seconds. As hers subsided, I gently withdrew, and she lured me past the precipice's edge, I tumbled down the gorge of bliss.

When we recovered, I put a hand on her shoulder and grabbed a fresh dress from the small drawer underneath the bed.

"How close are you to getting off Omega?"

At her blush, I snerked and rephrased. "I don't mean how many sentients have patronized you... How much do you have left before you can blow off... er, quit your pimp?"

Still cherry red in the face and looking down and away, she sighed, "I'm still three thousand away. I only ever actually get maybe a hundred dollars or so a trick, but I generally go around after gang wars and look through pockets for loose change."

Dressing and retrieving my items, I reached into a hidden pocket and produced the security payment I had received for door-delivering the scalpels to the clinic.

"Here's eight and a business card. Get yourself some clothes, a doctor, a weapon, and some decent food, then get your tight ass off this shithole."

Eyes watering she eyed the offering, unsure what to think.

"Go on, take it. I was planning to gamble on it, but its obvious you are a more worthy recipient."

Taking the gift, she jumped around me and held tight, tears hot on my shoulder. "Thank you thank you I don't know how I can what I can why did you..."

"Another cuebone would be great, but I think I'd just end up feeling terrible for it. So good luck and remember: Fortes fortuna adiuvat."

I left down the 'flush', checking the camera to be sure I had recorded everything for Jen. Yup, she's gonna love this one...

I really did hope that Eva was able to strike out on her own, she seemed a very sweet and driven woman.

Musing the complexities of life, I ventured back to the spaceport.

Time to get back to life as usual.

A news feed was playing about a nuclear blast on some planet or other. Vormeer or Virmy or somesuch. I snorted at the story. That's the Alliance for you, they'll ask for the bazooka for the cockroach then make do with a squirtgun, unless there was a loophole for WMDs.

Settling back into my seat, I prepared for the trip back to the Citadel.