12The Art of Forgetting

A march.

Determined. Single minded. I know where I'm going and where I'll end up.

Nothing could dissuade me.

I need to purge. I need to forget. I need it all out from under my skin.

There's only one person who'll help me and she's sitting on that damn couch again, surrounded by sycophants.

I stride up to her. Her mouth opens. A caustic remark laced with innuendo I'm sure. I don't hear it.

I seize hold of her wrist, and tug.

She comes willingly. She will again later.

I lead her out of the club – looking to the bathroom as we leave. I think better of it.

I don't say a word. Not as we hail a skycab. She knows what's happening.

Inside, I barely manage to sit still the entire journey. Outside, I know I am perfectly contained.

At the front of her apartment – it rises within me. She's barely input her door key-code when I unleash.

Neck, throat, face, lips. Ferocious and unrelenting. Wrists pinned back and body hard against her.

She melts, supporting herself against the door. I love it when she does that. Just lets herself go. No fear in succumbing to pleasure.

When she opens her eyes, the hunger is there – the black beckoning me.

Our want is mutual.

Punch door open. Stagger through hall, bouncing from wall to wall with fevered hands and lustful mouths.

With strong arms, I guide her into the living room, having her right where I want her before I prise us apart.

She looks at me, curious but wild.

I thrust her back onto the sofa. Surveying her varied state of undress from above.

I pounce upon my prey – crushing my mouth to hers; firmly planting her hands on my body, encouraging her to grab me hard enough to hurt. I feel the satisfying tear of her clothing from my greedy fingertips.

The hot flesh beneath welcomes me. A surge of pleasure arches her back. Her body clamps around me. Her fingernails scrape my scalp, latching onto a fistful of hair.

She pulls my head back. Her wet mouth to my ear whispering desperately:

please

She recoils – She's relinquished too much control. She's shocked even herself. Shock fuels her resolve.

In retaliation, she tries to assert her natural dominance – using the strength in her toned limbs to entangle me in attempt to lock and throw me from atop her.

I hold firm.

The sharpness of her nails, her teeth attacking me.

Aching pleasure that I deflect with similar tactics in more sensitive parts.

She grabs my head and inflicts a kiss that dissipates gravity and direction.

My head swims. I almost fold. She almost triumphs.

But I won't let her.

I go deeper, harder – until she is too enraptured to care.

She surrenders.

She moans my name as she sinks into me. I think this is what she's wanted from me all along.

I want her to see the power. I want to let her inside my head to show she'll never break me. I need her to know how being with her feels. I want her to know how much I need it.

The meld is everything.

We will join – It's coming –

I invite her to the defiance within.

By the black of her eyes, she accepts.

The warmth on the back of my neck from her hand is the only physical thing I feel as the transcendence of the meld takes over.

But

It's going wrong – I feel it slip

I'm losing control

I know that's what this part is all about. But I'm seriously losing it.

Fuck

It's Liara. It's all Liara.

She shouldn't be here.

I'm letting Liara in, embracing her, letting her fill the space of the ecstasy and meaning.

Just when Aria breaks through.

I can't stop it. It's coming too quickly now. It's rushing through me...

Stasis on Therum

Delightful tightness in my chest, like being struck by the proverbial arrow

Knowing her

Stealing away behind the med-bay just to listen to her voice, enchanted...

Consoling her

My heart breaking, holding her - her mother is gone because of me

Our first time

ohgodourfirsttime I can't watch this I can't breathe

Dying.

Oxygen escapes. Panic. Terror. Liara's face. The wish for just one more-

Illium

Despite distance, everything feels worth it, just to be here before her

Kiss under the shattered Shadow Broker ceiling

All the longing of months without her poured into the embrace

My promise of a life together

Rare glimpse of hope. Only found in her

Mars

Complete again, from her first touch.

Her Office

Leaving quickly, how little she wants me, struggling not to cry

Today

Hurt. Betrayal. Clawing at my insides to have it be over

Our entire history reeling through my mind, every emotion of the moment recalled perfectly.

I know Aria can see every fragment of love, desire, pain and ache.

When it releases me, I collapse backwards to the floor: fighting for air and to regain control of my body.

Limbs numb, head empty, nerves electric.

I need to banish Liara to get through this.

I recover slowly as she recedes from the tidal wave of memory.

I fight the urge to cry.

When I roll my head to the side to see Aria close to me on the ground, she looks to be in the same state of shock. She's not moving. Rising chest shows she's still here.

Minutes seem like hours, until I feel within my own skin again.

My throat feels too raw to speak. But I must.

"Aria-"

"It's fine, Shepard," she says curtly.

"I didn't mean-"

"Shepard – feel more than free to not explain yourself. In fact, feel obligated," she warns me. "I didn't need to see that."

"I'm sorry you did," I say in a hoarse voice, staring at a spot on the ceiling. I've been staring so intently I'm convinced it's moving. Which is annoying considering the room just stopped spinning.

"Whatever, Shepard," she growls, hauling herself up with difficulty. "Just don't use me again."

This jars something inside me. I sit up. A headache is the consequence of that daring movement.

"You use me. You take what you want. I'm your fucking scratching post because there's no one else you deign worthy that you want – don't be such a hypocrite."

"But when I do it-"

"It's you, and you're Aria, so it's fine?" I surmise, incredulous. "Bullshit, Aria."

"When I do it you'll never see someone else in there," she says darkly.

"That's what love is like!" I splutter pathetically. And choosing all the wrong words. "Complicated and unexpected and it embeds itself right in there. I couldn't control it."

"Shepard – Again reminding you I've lived more than your lifetime squared. There's nothing you can teach me," she snarls, standing over me and holding herself strong. "You arrogant, infant human."

"God, this was supposed to be simple," I groan.

"Should've went to your on-board fuck buddy," she sneers.

"Don't talk about her – She's anything but simple. She has feelings-" I growl, weary of her disregard. I pull myself up, very grateful for my legs to be supporting me in this endeavour.

"And I don't?"

"Not that you've shown!"

"I don't like playing second best," she says defiantly. "I don't deserve anything than your full attention. And I don't want anyone else in your head when you come to me – it's insulting. There's your feelings."

"I know, and that's why I tried to apologise!" I shout.

She doesn't have a quick retort to that. I don't know if she wants my apology. Instead she grunts and walks away.

I don't want to let her.

A swift leap and an arm around her bare waist, I pull her back and round into me.

My lips against hers. I try to give her everything I failed to in the joining. My lust, my satisfaction, my need and my growing addiction to being with her.

She pushes away. Sharply at first, but she stays within my tight grasp. I can see she feels it. I feel her anger dissipate, much to her annoyance. I know she's addicted too.

Now she has the power. And I just have to wait.

She tuts. She sighs. She looks at me like she could murder me right here.

Then it stops.

She rests on her bored expression. I know that's an act.

"You're an amateur at joining," she says simply.

"Thanks," I snort.

"You have no power over it," she says.

"Evidently," I agree, daring to caress the lower half over her back and wind her in a little closer.

"But you weren't wrong," she admits, her annoyance simmering beneath. "There's no one I... like on this sanitised piece-of-shit station that's good enough. We'll call it a novice error and leave it there."

"Very magnanimous of you," I remark, teasing a little, even in this dangerous place.

"It's not your vocabulary I fuck you for, Shepard," she says sharply, not enjoying being mocked.

"No, it's not," I say, shaking my head, sliding my hands into strategic places. "I might suck at joining, but the more human aspects of the activity – I am a God."

"Goddess," she corrects, flicker of amusement showing. I knew she'd like my arrogance. My illusion of ego turns her on immensely, and is succeeding for me now on the response of her body.

"Yes, sorry. Goddess," I concede, my hands hard at work through the torn fabric. "Quite correct."

Her knees buckle as I strive to live up to the moniker.

I'll make her forget.

And I'll forget as well. For the moment at least.


AN - Today I Learned there is no right-align on ... This chapter's mirrored over at Archive of Our Own (Direct link: /works/3637722/chapters/8360536) if anyone should wish to view original formatting during the meld sequence. Or a nicer font ;)

Thank you to all reading so far. Hope you're enjoying.