Naming
Dancing, wasn't something usually done when so into a pregnancy. Yet that was how the cobalt figure found the blonde female, dancing to the same human song she had been dancing to after she had gotten her omni-tool. Apparently the technology had been advanced enough that through the right channels, she found a niche of human music that the asari had left on the planet a long time ago. How the girl had managed it, she didn't ask, but she had stared as she had back then.
So let's . . . raise the bar,
and our cups . . . to the stars!
Samara couldn't explain herself. Maybe it was the walk, the gait, the way those hips moved . . . . Then again, maybe it was the soft pale mask on her face, making the contrast . . . delectable . . . or perhaps it was the grace and balance of movement with the extra weight. Maybe it was how she acted as though she was sane, and speaking aloud with herself. It may even be all the above but Samara didn't care about the reason, she merely wished to understand her own fascination with the pregnant human.
Would there be other asaris to fall prey? Was it only between them? Maybe it was the same thing that made her kin so desired by others, mainly aliens, that made her desire the petite blonde, but there was no real way of figuring out. They were in a secluded planet, her prey's track gone temporarily cold. Samara knew she was being irrational by trying to prevent the woman from getting in contact with others.
"Love, are you alright?" When did Hannah realized she was there? "I could go make us dinner."
It was one of her few and unique moments of lucid consciousness, and the justicar didn't want to miss it.
"Sorry, sunshine," she answered as she went towards the still-dancing woman, the nickname feeling strange, "I was deep in thought. How about we dance to this song before preparing dinner together?"
Hannah grinned at the idea and took the extended cerulean hand and pulled her close. They danced together to the end of the song, each inhaling the other, getting lost in the soft sway.
"Are your joints okay?"
"I once told you why dancing," those sky-blue eyes looked at peace, "for all our . . . activities, dancing is the one cure."
"Dinner is served?" She asked, just to receive a chuckle for an answer.
"No, dancing is just beginning." The introduction of the song began again, but this one was slower, and longer, than the first one, "there are to versions of this song, the radio edit, and the unedited version, which has two more minutes or so of music."
"I can guess which you like best."
And Hannah danced to her heart's content and physical need. Soon, they were moving as one, in synchronization at a different level from the melding, and it was unique. Physical union has never extended to anything beyond primal and it was the joining of souls that made it all real but this, this was what physical union was meant to be. Not an erratic move to satisfy a need but the synchronization and alignment of one's entire being. Hearts beating as one, two bodies moving as one and, in such sense, becoming one. She couldn't tell where she ended and the human began, who was breathing because, it felt, as if when Hannah took a breath, so did she, and the other way around too. It felt like drowning in all the physical aspects of the movement and unable to distinguish between individuals. Samara couldn't help it, the melding process began on its own and soon, to the beat of the song, they truly became one.
We're up all night to get lucky, We're up all night to get lucky
We're up all night to get lucky; We're up all night to get lucky
We're up all night to get lucky
We're up all night to get lucky; We're up all night to get lucky
We're up all night to get lucky, We're up all night to get lucky.
"Dinner." Hannah sounded serious, even after the intense experience and —
"Have you ever experienced something like this before?" She almost demanded, not knowing what she was feeling and sorely missing her meditation time.
"No, and I wanted to stay and savor the remaining ebbs of it," now she sounded like Samara, "but I can tell all the activity has hungered me and the child."
That was another thing. She had become more homely, more adorable, tenderer even . . . . The asari relented and together, they went to the kitchen. The connection lasted throughout the preparation, them chopping and preparing the stew together, not looking at the thing the other did but knowing what they were each doing. Soon, they were sitting at the table, with the human craving and in pain; the justicar smiled as she fed the woman and found excuses to kiss her. They ate in relative silence, words and sounds made to express frustration, pain and discomfort, although there were more moans of pleasure and child-like giggles. Afterwards, they resumed their nightly rituals of ointment rubbing and — the cerulean creature had started to use her biotic ability to check on the growing child. They usually did it every morning and before going to bed; sometimes, when they were resting in bed.
"So, why again, is it that you do not wish to know its gender?"
"I'm conflicted, afraid that I might not be able to care for it," she rubbed her belly in a protective manner, her face contorted with worry, "not sure how to feel."
Could she care for her child if it was a boy? And if it was a girl?
"Well, it's growing well and healthy," she smiled tenderly, "I'm glad that I can tell as much."
"What should I name it?" The asari looked at the human with a questioning look. "Two names, one for a boy, another for a girl."
"Why?" Did the human know and didn't wish to show it?
"Just in case, silly!" There, the tinkling laughter that made the mask shine. "I want a name in case it's a boy or a girl."
"John and Jane?" They were the most basic names, still popular after being abused so, the only names the asari could come up after searching the memories; how delightful it was to realize how much she knew. Sarcasm seemed to come a bit more naturally apparently; side-effects of their recent meld?
"I assume you don't know others," the blue seductress shrugged; she couldn't come up with others, there was a difference, "I wanted a name with at least your initial . . ."
"Like Sane?" The mild glare was met with a tilt of the head. "I like the sound of it, but it feels like jinxing the girl, probably making her prone to insanity."
"Ha, ha," the jest was well met, "more along the lines of . . . what do you think of Shane?"
"Oh, so both our initials," she looked impress, and there was a warm feeling tickling by her heart; she shuddered a bit, "the sound is . . . pleasant. Shane, hmmmm, sounds like honey with a bit of lemon. So, Shohn?"
"Shawn, yes," there was a brief moment of disconnection, and then the human spelled it out.
"Well, it has an s and an h," Samara gave the young woman a smile, "now; you'll have to wait to use either."
The soldier blushed sweetly and for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the look on those electric eyes that made her body react, but she visibly swallowed. It was clear where her head was, and the warrior didn't disappoint; they were getting ready for bed after all, and the caresses often turned into well practiced activities. Samara wanted to try the synchronization, but she doubted the frail, caramel body was up for it. Oh well, at least there was no need to chase after the woman; that had been interesting, Hannah evading her and putting her hidden training into use just to frustrate her. And she had been the one to teach her; sure, they had used a varren back then, dangerous one too, but it had paid off.