So i was cleaning up some more chapters of Windfall, and found a line implying Wrex and Mordin would become lovers. But I couldn't understand why? There is no way they'd even become friends (though, disclaimer, I've never played 3 so I don't know if that's still true.). so I decided to try and write it anyway and great i ship it now
the title means "the spine of my lover" in Japanese. At least that's what google translate gave me. My apologies to any Japanese speakers if it's horribly wrong!
also why has no one written SarenXSovereign?!
Watashi no Koiboto no Sebone
It was midnight, at least by the Normandy's clock. The crew had gone to bed, the lights across the ship had dimmed to simulate nighttime. That is, except for the lights in the tech lab, which were still on full brightness as Dr. Mordin Solus tinkered away at his twentieth project that day.
As much as he enjoyed his banter with Commander Shepard, Mordin still felt he worked best when alone, the only sound being the beeping of his computer and the low hum of the engines one deck below. Part of this was because it was peaceful - the other part was because, for the longest time, he didn't believe he was deserving of companionship.
The sole hour of sleep he needed was often plagued by nightmares caused by his own actions; stranded on Tuchanka's barren surface, surrounded by piles of dead krogan infants, infants who hadn't even made it far enough to draw their first breath. He'd see them in his dreamscape, laying there motionless as the howling wind blew over them, and the facade he'd built up over the past decade to convince himself and others that his work modifying the genophage was warranted came crumbling down. Then he'd wake in a cold sweat, and go straight back to work to dilute the memory of the nightmare.
Shepard hadn't been happy when she learned what he had done. She herself had a close krogan friend, an Urdnot Wrex, who voiced his displeasure to the commander after he learned she had a salarian on her crew. She'd replied that Wrex wasn't traveling with her anymore, so it wasn't his concern. Mordin, however, felt the sting of Wrex's words.
Wrex would occasionally join the crew of the Normandy if they were going on an especially perilous mission and needed a mature krogan. During those times, he would stay as far away from the scientist as he could, never talk to him, and if he had the misfortune of being in the same room with him, would stare him down in an effort to make him leave - which never worked. This made meals on the ship very tense, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time until a fight broke out.
Then, one day in the tech lab, one did.
Wrex charged into the lab, spooking the salarian, and threw him up against a wall, knocking over his work in the process. As the beakers shattered on the ground and their liquids pooled on the floor, Wrex had leaned in and growled in his ear, "I'm going to skin you alive, and use your hide to sheathe my weapon."
But he made one tragic error: he'd underestimated Mordin. "I'll be keeping it, thank you," the doctor said, whipping out the gun he always kept hidden on his person, and shot Wrex in the knee.
It was a harmless wound with krogan regeneration, but Wrex had shouted - moreso in surprise than anything else. His eyes darted from his knee, to his prey, before he stormed out of the lab wordlessly. Mordin was sure that was the last he'd have to deal with him... until that night.
It had been a night much like this one, where Mordin was hard at work comparing amino acid concentrations in reapers and humans when the door to the lab opened, and there stood Wrex. Mordin reached for his gun, but Wrex drew his first.
"Don't do anything stupid," he said, then gave a throaty chuckle. "Though I'd say what I'm doing is pretty stupid, anyway."
Mordin raised a brow. "What do you mean?"
"I want to talk to you, Doc - about earlier," Wrex said, holstering his gun and approaching the worktable.
"If your wound is not healing, I have tissue regenerator," Mordin offered.
Wrex scoffed. "I don't need your fancy medicine. I wanted to tell you... well..." Wrex looked away, fidgeting. "... no salarian's ever put up a decent fight before. Not after gettin' charged, anyway."
"Well," Mordin said, unable to help his prideful smile, "I am no ordinary salarian."
"Guess not, since Shepard's got you on her crew," Wrex huffed. "I was thinking, maybe... you'd like to do some sparring sometime. Hone your skills. You could be faster." He forced himself to keep eye contact. "Besides, everyone else on this ship is soft. You're the only one who seems like he can hold his own in close combat with a krogan."
Mordin preferred putting his energy into science, but he also understood that entertaining Wrex would certainly make their lives on the Normandy easier. And so he replied, "I would enjoy that."
Underneath that, though, he was just happy a krogan, who he had hurt so badly, actually wanted to spend time with him.
Once a week, they met in the gym to match wits against each other, and each time, Wrex was amazed by the doctor's fighting skills. Mordin didn't fight like a krogan, but Wrex could describe his style in another way: elegant.
It was a word he wasn't sure the krogan ever used for anything, but it fit his view of his new sparring partner perfectly. The lightness of his steps, his agile frame, the contrasting severity of his blows. Wrex had never seen anything like this before, or felt this way for anyone in his life, and he wasn't the only one enjoying himself. Mordin relished their tussles, feeling liberated in the violent dance they shared. They reminded him of his glory days in the STG, but this time, no one was being harmed. It was everything he'd ever wanted, and more - he could finally make a krogan happy.
Soon, their sparring sessions took on a new, more tender facet.
The door to the tech lab slid open, and there stood Wrex, an uncharacteristically warm smile on his wide face. "Whatcha up to, Doc?"
"Studying reproduction habits of sentient mold picked up on Illium," Mordin replied, returning the smile as his lover approached him.
"Reproduction habits, eh?" Wrex said, standing behind the scientist and gently setting his hands on his shoulders. "Got any advice for krogan-salarian reproduction?"
"Told you before, Wrex. I'm male."
"Your humor still needs work," Wrex laughed, "but I'll take it."
Mordin turned around, and laid his hands on Wrex's scarred face. They looked into each other's eyes, before Mordin leaned down to rest his forehead against the krogan's. He'd spent his life bringing nothing but pain to the universe. Now, though, he had found the one who made him believe there was still good in him. Still a part of him that wasn't corrupted by the fear and self-loathing. A part of him that could bring warmth and happiness into another's life.
Wrex ran his hands down Mordin's sides, careful as if he were handling a glass statue. How could someone so squishy be so strong? Wrex was no fool - he knew Mordin's past, but he also respected his ability in battle. It had been a tightrope of emotions, emotions Wrex didn't even know he had, but now he was here, again, in this quiet laboratory, with the only person in the galaxy besides Shepard who could handle his staredown and not back off.
He clawed at Mordin's shirt, and the scientist unzipped it for him. He sighed as the krogan's rough hand slowly meandered across his rubbery torso. He'd once told Shepard that salarian sex drive was very low - but there were always outliers in every race, and, secretly, he was one of them. Truth be told, he didn't really feel alive unless he had 12 oz. of pure krogan beef inside of him. Fortunately, Wrex was also considered a deviant for his species, and was one of those krogans who had a fetish for bendy salarians. It was something he'd been ashamed of ever since the genophage - but he'd found a salarian worthy of a krogan's attention.
Mordin gently kissed the red plate on his lover's forehead, prompting Wrex to ask if he'd been watching those weird human romance vids. Mordin laughed.
The only lust krogans knew was bloodlust, the only physical contact they desired took place on the battlefield - so why, as Wrex made his lover moan and cry on the laboratory floor, did he savor them more than wails of agony and death rattles?
Salarians had no gonads, but merely one hole, the cloaca. One hole, to rule all of Mordin's body, and only for reproduction, as was the tradition he'd followed all his life. Why, then, when Wrex grunted his name between gasps for breath, did Mordin feel complete?
Why, when Mordin's spine bent backwards and his body turned to little more than a wet noodle in the arms of the mighty clan leader, did Wrex gaze up at him like he was laying eyes on Granth himself?
Why, when he saw the crimson flashes of Wrex's eyes, the desperate emotion in the slits of his pupils, did Mordin see a beauty unrivaled by any nebula he'd ever seen?
Why, if they were a krogan and a salarian, did they desire nothing more than each other?
Soft skin, strong scales, melding together, a harmonious flux.
Panting, they intertwined after their passionate session, rapidly giving way to sleep. Beside the steady body of Wrex, Mordin no longer feared what might await him in his dreams. He stroked the forehead plate of his beloved, and settled in to sleep in Wrex's protective arms.
And EDI recorded the whole thing to share with Joker.