2184 CE :: Eagle Nebula - Citadel :: Bachjret Ward
Breathless. Panting. Sweaty. Entangled. Epic.
These were the words that finally registered in the blonde's mind when a satisfied hum tickled her throat as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. The body beside her was warm, deep breaths drawn evenly. An arm that was not hers draped lazily over her toned abdomen, her own arm pinned under the soft form. She cautiously pulled back her arm to push the strands of gold from her face.
Lauren gasped quietly as she saw the wavy dark hair fanned out across her pillows and the memories of last night flooded her mind. They had made their way back to her apartment, both a hot mess from all the touching in the skycar. The woman was beautiful, stretched out like a cat, satisfied and purring. Her skin held remnants of their tryst, damp yet cool. In fact, the whole room held remnants of what transpired last night as she glanced around to assess the damage: clothes strewn everywhere, her dress blues laid crumpled near the foot of the bed; furniture askew and in disarray, her dining chairs toppled over and several articles of clothing hung from the low fluorescent tube; her body was sore, not necessarily tight aches but a deep throbbing that reminded her of how deliciously she moaned last night.
What if she wants breakfast? Lauren eyes were now wide as saucers.
Terrified of waking the woman, Lauren slipped out of bed quietly. Lauren cursed her inability to remain as neat and meticulous when she was drunk as she was sober when she tried to skip over the obstacle course of clothing. Quickly throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, she grabbed her jacket and proceeded to leave a note on Bo's omni-tool.
Thanks for last night. Sorry, had to run. Feel free to use the bathroom and grab anything you'd like from the fridge.
Before she chickened out, Lauren hit the send button. Still not breathing, she walked out of her apartment and into the elevator. She hummed nervously with the pleasant music, taking in a much needed breath of air when she stepped out of the building.
"Oh god," Lauren whispered to no one in particular.
The ward was still cloaked in artificial darkness, she had left her apartment in the middle of a night cycle. Small street lamps added to the ambience, dim and unintrusive. Save for a few nearby hovercars in the distance, the silence served to jar her senses. One of the reasons why she and Tamsin chose this place: the insufferable din from the Commons and the market was drowned out here by the sound-dampeners. And it held old Earth's rustic quaintness, with lamp posts and wooden doors.
Tamsin.
What had she done! Five years of her searching for Tamsin. Five years of her keeping her unspoken vows to a presumably dead girlfriend. Five years of pent-up frustrations. Yet one night of supposed over-inebriation, she wound up in bed with a gorgeous brunette and then chose to freeze outside the confines of her warm bed after the deed.
Lauren slumped against the nearby wall, feeling the cold from the metal seep into her bones. Her arms hugged her knees as she struggled to breathe. She gave up on berating herself, chanting in her mind that she needed this, she deserved this. But there was no difference. Just as there had been no difference between last night and the many nights before, yet she chose so poorly, like a horny teenager. The desolate gnawing in her chest was slowly numbing her.
Tamsin would understand, part of her rationalized. Tamsin would have wanted you to move on.
"But not like this," Lauren countered aloud.
She felt like she had dishonoured her girlfriend. Her body may have been ready to move on but her mind was not. How could she, when she was wrapped up so warmly in the memories of the blonde valkyrie? When every instance of intimacy only served to remind her more of Tamsin? Even the mere thought of breakfast sent her mind reeling back to their morning adventures.
Then Lauren realized it. It was not that she could not move on, move past these memories. She did not want to. She did not want to feel as if no one was trying hard to keep Tamsin's heroic deed alive, or remember her until the next soldier comes along. She did not want that and Tamsin had deserved better than that.
2184 CE :: Serpent Nebula - Citadel :: D27 Docks
With her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, Lauren marched towards Docking Bay B, where she was told the Normandy SR-2 would be. Despite her almost pristine appearance, she was fidgeting. She nervously straightened her dress blues and fixed the angle of her beret. She tied her hair several times, finally just left her blonde locks to fall naturally around her shoulders. She rested against the railing overlooking one of the many ports on the Citadel, her eyes ignoring the movements of the ships docking and leaving.
Around her were other soldiers, several families and probably one or two journalists. The familiar pangs of sudden loneliness clawed at her heart. A sobbing man nearby clung onto what Lauren presumed was his husband, each whispering their dread at being separated. A young to her left questioning her mother why daddy had to leave them alone.
This discomfort was something she felt before, but never this intensely in a long while. She blamed the human - or fae, she thought wryly - connection from last night, fueling her current state. Her emotional senses were more acute, as though the floodgates had been opened and the barrage of emotions have been released. Her scientific mind wanted to analyze everything, wanted to understand how the physicality of last night's act led to the liberation of her feelings.
"Lieutenant Lewis?"
Lauren looked up into brown eyes. The dark blonde man that greeted her was tall, his face covered by a scraggly beard. While serious, there was a slight smile as he extended his hand. From the number of stripes, she knew that this man had risen quite far up the ranks, though by no means was he the commander of the ship.
"First Lieutenant Dyson Thornwood," he introduced himself as Lauren shook his hand.
Lauren nodded, "Good to meet you, Lieutenant."
"Please, call me Dyson. It's an honour to have you aboard the Normandy, Dr. Lewis," the man led her towards the appropriate docking bay.
"The honour is mine, Lieu - Dyson. The Normandy and her crew are renowned in all corners of the galaxy, I look forward to great adventures."
Upon reaching the airlock, the dock's doors opened and closed with a pneumatic hiss. Their conversation was shallow as orange lights covered them. The ship made a quick analysis of their contamination levels before clearing them to board the Normandy SR-2.
In terms of different frigates and ships in general, Lauren was quite well-travelled. But knowing is different from seeing. A soft gasp still escaped her as the secondary set of doors opened. The sleek interior of metal was muted by the lack of light but still showcased the technology used. Stepping out from the airlock, the bustling, emotion-filled docks area was definitely different to the sombre, serious tone of the Normandy.
"That's the cockpit and that's our pilot, Hale Santiago," Dyson pointed to their left.
A dark-skinned man turned from his seat and waved, "Heard we're getting a newbie today, welcome aboard!"
Just that like that, the solemn tone dissipated. Lauren smiled, nodding as she followed Dyson deeper into the depths of the ship. He gave her a brief rundown of the Command Deck, where most of the action took place. The Combat Information Centre, better known as the CIC, was impressive. The long, oval panels of buttons and flashing lights required several crewmen to man it at once, it was the most new-tech piece of equipment Lauren had ever seen. The holographic galaxy map flashed in the middle, indicating where the Normandy had docked and a short description of the Citadel. In between the elevator, sectioned near the back of the CIC, and the cutting-edge technology stood a bubbly Yeoman Kelly Chambers, animatedly explaining her duties of keeping the commander's emails and schedules in check.
Behind the elevator was a laboratory as well as an armory, both of which were Lauren's territory. They had hired her to be a infiltration specialist as well as the vessel's Gunnery Chief. Though a couple a ranks below her actual one, she took it willingly. Lauren needed this. The laboratory was simple and housed enough equipment and space for her to do decent experiments and testing, if the need arose. The armoury was equal in size, a row of lockers to the side while an assortment of gadgets lay on the workbench. There was also a mattress at the far end and that, Dyson told her, would be where she bunkered down for the nights.
The tour continued, the party of two taking the elevator to the depths of the Normandy. Reaching the fourth deck, Dyson explained that the stern of the ship was where the heart of Normandy was kept - the Drive Core, a vastly improved model from the original Tantalus Core where stealth systems have been boosted. If given more time, Lauren would have wanted to enjoy what a marvel it was, allowing a temporary mass effect field to envelop the entire vessel to keep it hidden from enemies' eyes. The bow of the ship housed the training area complete with mats and a small gym with some basic equipment.
The third deck was the crew's quarters, where most of the crew spent their time. The mess hall was headed by Mess Sergeant Fitzpatrick "Trick" McCorrigan, an old veteran who was actually more of a jack-of-all-trades, including plumbing and bartending. He owned one of the most popular pubs on the Citadel - The Dál Riata. Major Dr. Karin Chakwas was the ship's resident medical officer and communications liaison, residing mostly in the medical bay. And on the same level Dyson, as the Normandy's Executive Officer, has an office opposite the medical bay.
"What about the top floor?" Lauren inquired as she was being ushered into the communications room.
"That's the commander's quarters, she'll be down to greet you in a second."
"She?" Lauren was suitably impressed.
"Yes, she," a voice behind her replied.
Such a familiar voice, the blonde thought but for some odd reason, could not bring herself to turn to face the newcomer.
"Commander," Dyson greeted.
"Thank you Dyson, leave us."
As the man left, Lauren turned around and froze. Every cell in her body literally froze upon looking at her new commanding officer.
"Bo?" Lauren whispered, incredulous.
"You must be…" she looked to the dossier in her hand, "Lauren Lewis," her dark brown eyes became momentarily steely as she extended her hand. "I'm Commander Bo Dennis of the SSV Normandy SR-2."
The Bo Dennis? Lauren almost fainted. She was not one to fangirl over celebrities but Bo Dennis was a household name. Everyone was familiar with her rise to stardom in the Systems Alliance, escaping the clutches of a life surrounded by petty theft and gang members. Everyone knew how she managed to stop the corrupt fellow Spectre agent Aife from devastating the entire Citadel and her previous Council. Everyone was aware of the legend of her heroic past where she almost singlehandedly held off the slavers on Elysium until reinforcements arrived. Moreover, Bo's reputation of being the only unaligned fae in history was absolute.
Lauren gingerly returned the handshake, still reeling from having seen this woman - her CO, the Citadel's sweetheart - moaning and writhing in her bed. She simply could not reconcile the images - intimate and official. She had to admit that Bo looked incredibly smart in her dress blues, with her hair tied neatly into a ponytail below her peaked cap. There was a smirk playing on her lips, and Lauren could guess why. When had she become so transparent?
And what luck. Of all the women on all the ships, Lauren had to pick the one she slept with the night before from a relatively quiet club. Maybe that's my thing, she mused inwardly, though not at all seeing the humour in the situation. Power and authority.
"I understand you were from the Budapest?" Bo took a seat and continued browsing the dossier.
"Yes," Lauren answered too quickly. "Yes, ma'am."
Bo shot her a look, dark eyes momentarily flashed blue.
"Succubus?" Lauren blurted but did not flinch, feeling like she somehow should have paid more attention to media reports.
Bo seemed impressed and nodded, still scrolling through the datapad.
Lauren took this silence to reflect. The woman practically dripped sex last night, even the simple hoodie and jeans had done nothing to mute her sultriness. And from her abilities in bed… Lauren should have guessed. As much as she was unable to remember much last night, her body did not forget - not the aching thighs and calves, that felt like she had tensed up so much because of the sheer number of orgasms that possibly rippled through her; not the reddish-purple bruise just below her collarbone, that sent a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through her whenever her fingers ran over it; not the hoarseness in her throat, that made her voice a little more raspy and enticing.
Bo cleared her throat and Lauren snapped to look at her in embarrassment.
Why does she look like she knows?
"I am a succubus," Bo stated, slightly amused, as though it explained everything.
Their eyes met.
In hindsight, Lauren would say that this was the cheesiest thing that ever happened but her breath was literally caught in her chest. She had not dared to make a noise, lest it came out as a garble. But Bo looking at her like that made her feel naked, as though all the lights in the universe had dimmed except the one directly above her head. The brunette looked coiled up, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.
Lauren felt her heart stop as the commander rose from her seat. But instead of fulfilling her wild fantasy, Bo extended her hand, "Good to have you on board Lauren. Before I go, any questions?"
She was playing with her, Lauren knew it. And just like a rat in the dangerously soft paws of a cat, she was letting it happen. Her throat was parched as she thought, Did you know? That we'd be meeting today?
Lauren replied instead, "No, ma'am."
"And please, no need for that on board the Normandy, Lauren. Call me Bo, or Dennis, whichever is more comfortable for you."
The blonde smiled at the disregard of official procedure and saluted, retreating to the armoury.