Chapter Three
Warning: This chapter contains potentially M-rated material
Things changed between them after that. Though they never actually said anything about being a couple there was little room to think they were anything less. It was said in the way his fingers lingered on her waist, the way her heart sped up when he smiled, the way she found herself looking for reasons to touch him. He spent most of his free time with her, either watching her work or stretching out beside her on the couch, running his talons down her arm as they watched old vids.
And she was happy, so blissfully happy that she didn't know how she could have ever existed without feeling like this.
"How long has it been since you saw your parents?" she asked as she took a bite of ice cream, letting the cold melt over her tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. Aetius shrugged, pushing his dessert around on his plate.
"A few years at the least, they're busy looking after Aelia," he said. "She's been sick for ages, it's the only reason she didn't go to boot camp when she was 15. Some sort of bone disease that keeps her from fighting. On bad days, she has to use crutches."
"Can the doctors do anything?" she asked, frowning. "I mean, there has to be something they can do. Right?"
"Nothing they haven't already done," he said with another shrug, and despite his apparent indifference she knew it bothered him – she could see it in the way he fidgeted, the way his talons toyed with his napkin. "I send half my paycheck to her account, it's why I can't afford to live in a nicer ward. I know how to protect myself, though. I didn't last through boot camp on luck alone." He grinned.
That's when a thought hit her, burrowed its way into her brain and refused to leave until her mouth opened and the words poured out, asking: "Can you teach me?"
He quirked a browplate at her. "What, how to protect yourself? Clara, this isn't Omega."
She shook her head, "No, I know it isn't Omega – thank god," she could only imagine what would have happened if she had been transported there. "But if things are going to happen as I think they are…I need to help, Tito. You know me. I can't sit back and do nothing when I have the power to help."
"You're too nice," he commented seriously, before grinning and flicking a crumb at her. "But I know what you mean. So, what, you want me to teach you to fight?"
"You can, can't you?" she asked.
He scoffed, "Of course I can. I'm not going to go easy on you though just because I like you. If you're going to learn to fight, you're gonna have to put up with a lot of shit. You have to learn to walk before you can run."
"I can do it, Aetius," she said firmly, meeting his gaze head on. "I don't want you to go easy on me. I can take it."
He leered, and when she caught on to his train of though she laughed and threw her napkin in his face, ignoring the scandalized looks the waiters gave them in favor of ducking as he retaliated with his fork.
They were promptly kicked out of the restaurant, but it had been a bit fancy for their tastes anyway.
Clara hadn't really prepared herself for what Aetius had in store for her, she hadn't understood the depths of what she was asking for. She was sleeping peacefully, dreaming about her dog (it was strange now, moving her leg in her sleep and not feeling the little space heater curled under the blankets) when there was a loud and insistent banging on her door.
She didn't bother dressing, hurrying to her door and pulling it open to give whoever it was disturbing her a piece of her mind – but Aetius pushed past into the room like he owned the place and began barking orders.
"You aren't serious," she asked monotonously, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Deadly," he counted. "Now, it's 10 past 5. Every minute you waste is an extra lap through the presidium. Go go go!"
She obliged easily with that threat, her eyes widening before she hurried back up stairs and pulled on shorts and a tank. Aetius held up his end of the bargain, and that day she spent two hours jogging around the presidium with Aetius keeping up with her every step of the way without breaking a sweat – metaphorically speaking.
After that excellent torture method and a brief break for her to rehydrate, he worked on drills. He made her go through them again and again until her muscles burned and her head throbbed. It was only after she felt she may collapse that he stopped, dropping the act and wrapping his arms around her. The affectionate way he nuzzled her hair was enough prompting to sag into his arms, letting him support her weight. He trilled apologetically.
"You enjoyed this," she protested as he slid his palms over her back soothingly. "You're a sadist. You like seeing me suffer."
"I'm just doing what you asked," he said, and she groaned because she knew he was right. "Come on, you need to bathe. You have work in two hours."
She sobbed, and Aetius just continued to rub her back soothingly.
...
Clara had hoped beyond reason that he would leave her be the next day, let her recuperate, but he was unrepentant in his methods. Every morning for the next two months he was at her door, demanding she wake up and jog, and after that it was drills. If they finished by 8, she was lucky. Most days she finished by 10. On bad days, she barely had an hour to get ready for work.
It was pushing her – it was really pushing her. Her temper was short, and though she more than enjoyed the way he would hold her after, she was about ready to punch him. Punch him and actually land the hit, that is.
"Right, lets go through this again," he said as he kicked the mat back into place. Clara groaned, and quickly tied her hair up in a bun, pushing the irritating strands from her sweat soaked neck and getting into position.
Aetius had added sparring into the mix after the first two weeks – every weekend after Clara recuperated from her morning work outs they would relocate to his apartment where he would roll out a sparring mat and go at each other. The first date he beat her fifteen times in ten minutes and then scolded her for not properly implementing her training into her fighting. And then they began again.
"Tito, we've been over this a thousand times," she groaned, her abs and arms aching. "Can we take a break?"
"You just had a break," he pointed out.
"That was two hours ago!" she snapped. He shrugged.
"Hit me, just once, and we'll take a break." He said.
She stared at him for a long, incredulous moment. "You're joking," she said shortly. He shook his head and got into his stance.
"Not a bit," he countered, "Now come at me."
She took position begrudgingly, glaring at him the whole time, and took a deep breath. She lunged, aiming for his face. A quick move, and Aetius had her face down on the mat, his weight holding her down. She cursed, and he let her up with a brisk: "Try again."
So she pushed herself up and tried again. Over and over and over until finally, finally, she feinted to the left and hit for the right and her fist connected full strength with his cheek and he stumbled back.
She froze. Aetius looked at her, mandibles flickering into a wide grin.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I've got tougher skin than that," he retorted confidently.
"Good."
And she threw herself at him, her legs wrapping around his waist and her arms sliding around his neck. She kissed him along his injured cheek, along the length of his mandible, until her lips slid over his and even though he was a turian and kissing wasn't their usual manner of affection he was pretty damn good at it. Her lips moved against his mouth, tender and slow while his tongue pressed against her lips, probing curiously until she opened to him and moaned.
Her fingers slid up his neck, pausing beneath his fringe to trace along the surprisingly soft skin lurking there, and he positively growled before twisting them around and slamming her against the wall.
"Aetius!" she gasped as his lips abandoned hers and he began to nip softly along her jaw. She managed a laugh, breathless and short, as her eyes flickered closed and her head fell back against the wall. "I thought we were training?"
"We were," he agreed, his hands gripping her hips like vices and pulling her against him. "Now we're taking a break."
She moaned as his hand slipped up her back, under her shirt, and his nails left thin red lines along her skin. They had never done this before, never gone further than affectionate nuzzles and brief kisses, not for lack of wanting but for lack of timing. Now it felt right to toss her shirt aside and bar herself to him, to let his tongue dance over her skin while her fingers sought to discover every single place that made him moan.
"Bed," she panted when his fingers began tugging at her pants. "In a bed."
He slipped his mouth over hers and she kissed him, pressing her tongue to his and dragging her fingers over his neck as he pulled away with a growl.
As he pulled away from the wall and crossed the room to the bed, she vaguely heard Garrus' words in the back of her mind: We held a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, she had flexibility. Was sparring this exciting for turians all the time? How long had Aetius been keeping his urges under control when he sparred with her? The idea that this slow building need had been boiling under the surface for months now made her heart race.
He deposited her on the bed gently, pulling her pants off as he moved away from her body. She missed the contact instantly and the moment her legs were free she reached for her underwear, tearing it down her legs and tossing it aside. He growled, his dark eyes roving eagerly over her body, and in an instant his clothes were abandoned and he was in front of her, completely bare.
"Aetius," she said, nervousness finally working its way through the haze of lust. "I've never done this before."
He blinked. "What, never? Spirits, you're a virgin?"
She laughed, smacking his shoulder, "No you dumbass, I've never done this with a turian before."
He bristled in embarrassment, running his fingers up her thigh and quickly interrupting her laughter, "You should have clarified. I almost panicked, I was afraid I was going to break you."
"You still might," she said dryly. "My last boyfriend was eight years ago."
His eyes widened slightly. "It's been eight years for you?" he asked.
"Losing the mood here, Romeo," she said dryly. "We can talk about nuances later, right now you better find your way on top of me or I swear to God-"
He laughed and an instant later he was on top of her again, nibbling down her neck and across her chest as her fingers traced over his skin, searching out the subtle curves and lines that pieced him together, learning what strings she had to pluck to make him sing-
He growled as her hands pressed into his waist, and pulled back, "Don't do that unless you want this to end quickly."
She quirked an eyebrow and a devious smirk made its way across her lips, "Sensitive, then?" she asked, sitting up and sliding her fingertips just barely along the curve of his waist. He growled and in an instant her hands were pinned to the bed while his tongue traced a path along her neck, over her breasts, and down her stomach. Her breath hitched and he grinned.
"Turnabout is fair play," he quipped.
"This is a bit extreme for turnabout," she retorted.
He grinned wickedly and delved deeper. By the end of the night Clara was very much alright with his idea of turnabout.
"You look ridiculous right now," Aetius observed after, as he ran the backs of his fingers down her arm, looking down at her with a peaceful expression. Clara hummed and stretched, reaching her arms up and out as she arched her back.
"I'm relaxed," she explained, cracking open an eye to look at him. "You have turned me to goo. I have been liquefied. Congratulations." Aetius frowned and looked honestly concerned for a moment, forcing her to laugh, "It's a human thing, Aetius. Consider it a compliment."
He seemed to accept that explanation, ducking his head to nip along her shoulder. She hummed and tilted her head away, prompting him to turn his attention to her neck, "We need to practice some more," he said. Clara groaned, a sound that quickly turned into a whine.
"Tito, I can't move," she protested. "You can't seriously expect me to stand up and fight right now." He didn't budge, looking down at her seriously. She pouted and reached out, running her fingers over his chest. "Come on, Tito. I'm not sure I can even walk."
That seemed to make some improvement – he preened and wrapped his arm around her to pull her against him. "Fine. We can rest for now."
She felt something pressing against her thighs and raised an eyebrow, "It doesn't feel like rest is on your mind."
He shrugged unrepentantly and she smiled wickedly.
"Lay back," she ordered, pulling away from him slightly. He quirked a browplate but obliged, curious to see what she was going to do. She lowered herself, straddling his legs as she ran her fingers over his groin plates. He shivered.
"What are you planning on doing?" he asked.
"I vaguely recall you saying you liked my lips," she said with a smile, lowering herself slightly. "I'm simply…encouraging your admiration."
And as she slipped her lips around him he cursed, his fingers clenching in the sheets and his hips rolling up to meet her, she couldn't help but admit to herself that she didn't want to be anywhere else but here, with him.
...
Clara grunted, lashing out at Aetius with her leg. It connected with his thigh and he stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. As he did so her fingers sped forward, stopping an inch away from his neck, his own hand moving to intercept a moment too late. He grinned, his mandibles widening, and she exhaled as her hand dropped.
"You beat me," he said proudly. "You're getting better. That's the first time you've taken me out."
Turian's were stronger than humans by nature. Their plates were no where near strong enough to be called armor, but they were thick enough that it took effort to take them down flesh-to-flesh. Aetius had been more than willing to inform her of their weak spots, pointing them out to her and explaining the best ways to take him down. Eventually she learned – this was just the first time she'd succeeded.
(Of course, she was rather fond of his more intimate lessons on turian anatomy, but those weren't techniques she planned on using with anyone but him.)
"I couldn't have done it without you," she argued, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his middle. He purred and pressed his lips against the top of her head briefly, before nuzzling her temple.
"You aren't a fighter, not naturally," he said. "I hope you never have to use this."
Clara hoped she didn't, either, but she knew she was wrong. She had less than five years before shit hit the proverbial fan, five years of training to look forward to. She had to be good enough, strong enough, fast enough. She had to make a difference, and Aetius knew that she wouldn't just let everything happen without stepping in.
He was right. She wasn't a fighter – she hated training, hated throwing punches and hurting people. When she was younger she wanted to be a nurse – at least, that was until she realized it involved blood and potentially seeing peoples insides, and that just did NOT set well with her. Now here she was about to walk into a war that would not only make her see peoples insides, but be the one forcing them onto the outside.
It was a thought that nearly made her sick.
Despite the dour mood that had quickly settled over her achievements, Aetius promised to take her wining and dining to celebrate. Five months of training had finally paid off, and even though it was a strain on both their pockets he reserved a table at the fanciest Levo-Dextro restaurant in the whole damn Citadel. She dipped into her savings, just this once, and purchased a beautiful purple dress (the exact shade of his colony markings) and black heels to match the simple costume jewelry that adorned her ears and wrists.
When they met up, Aetius looked like he wanted to rip the dress from her body and ravage her for all to see, so everyone knew she was his. It made her heart flutter and her lips curve into a sly smile.
"You're gorgeous," he murmured, pushing a stray hair from her face and letting his hand linger on her shoulder, "I changed my mind, we need to get back to my apartment so I can ravish you."
She laughed, short and full, and pressed her hand into his, "Come on. I, for one, plan on eating until my stomach bursts."
He frowned, "Please don't. That sounds unpleasant."
Dinner went exceedingly well, considering on normal occasions neither of them had the will nor the maturity level to last in such high class environments for long. Even now they giggled a little too loudly, joked a little too crassly, and played a little too roughly. They were paying good money, though, and despite the fact that they were less than perfect guests the waitress seemed more than happy to attend to them.
They left her a nice tip. She kept pouring the wine when most would have stopped.
After they left (promising never to speak of the cost to anyone) they made their way from the restaurant to the Presidium, leaning against the thin white rails that was the only thing keeping them from falling into its sparkling lake. Clara kicked off her shoes, her ankles and toes begging for reprieve, and leaned over the edge.
"Do you think there are any fish in there?" she asked. She had gotten the damn mission in Mass Effect 2, but she had never found the answer. Now, in her drunken haze, she wanted to know.
Aetius, slightly more sober than her, made sure to keep his hand firmly around her waist and halt any attempts for her to investigate further, "No. That's also the drinking water. They wouldn't risk putting fish in there."
She sighed, a completely petulant sound that made him laugh, and leaned into him. He supported her weight easily enough, running his fingers down her arms and watching as the skin prickled in his wake.
"You're beautiful," he said, surprisingly serious for a moment. "In this light, you glow."
She looked up at him, watched as the water projected ripples across the sharp angels of his face, and realized that despite his alien shape, despite the completely foreign texture of his skin against hers, he was beautiful, too. It was the little things that made it so – the small scar on his chin from an old fight, the way the light purple of his colony marks looked against his pale grey plates, the way his dark eyes looked almost blue from this angle. He was stunning.
"I want to be with you," she said suddenly, pressing against him. "Forever. Is that weird?"
Aetius shook his head, slid his fingers down her arm before looping his arm around her waist, "No. It's not."
She sighed and looked out over the lake, resting her head against him as her eyes grew heavy in her head, "I've never wanted to be with someone forever before. I never believed in it. But with you...with you, I could be forever. With you, I want forever."
It wasn't I love you. But it worked. Aetius just pulled her close and tugged a box from his pocket with his free hand, holding it to her as casually as he would extend a credit.
"I picked it up while you were getting ready," he said, eyes glued to her as she carefully grabbed the velvet box with shaky fingers. "It's the best I could afford. I wish it was more, but…it's what I have."
She opened the box and her eyes immediately caught the sight of a dark jewel, beautiful and shining in a way that made her heart stutter. It was simple, small, and attached to a thin silver chain. She smiled as she ran her thumb over the edge, marveling at the liquid feel of metal, and sighed blissfully.
"It's perfect," she said. "More than perfect. Thank you."
Aetius shrugged, the motion belied by the thick sound of his voice as he responded, "Nothing less than what you deserve."
When she kissed him, she felt like her heart would burst from her chest. He pulled back and wiped his fingers over her cheeks, brushing away tears she hadn't even noticed.
"Happy tears," she informed him with a small smile. "They're definitely happy tears."
"Humans are weird," he murmured with a grin, and close as he was she could feel the vibrations of his chest, watch the subtle twitches of his mandibles. She couldn't hear the noises he was making, his subharmonics reaching levels human hearing couldn't hope to comprehend, but his eyes said what his voice could not.
So she leaned up and kissed him again, trailing her lips along his plates to whisper in his ear.
When they went to bed that night, they celebrated each other the only way they knew how – with teeth and tongue and touch, pushing and pulling at each other until they fell over the edge and into bliss, over and over until neither of them could move to pull away.
...
A/N: So, for those of you who stuck through the relationship building, the next chapter is when shit goes down. Prepare yourselves. There may be tears. (As in, I cried writing it so there will probably be tears).
I'm not sayin' much more than that, just once again thanking everyone who's sticking through the plot building process with me. This isn't a giant romance work - that's why it isn't under the romance genre. It just starts that way.
I'm trying to make this story very REAL, I'm trying to make sure it feels like real people in real situations. Like the characters, specifically Clara and Nihlus, aren't perfect, that they aren't infallible, and that they can make mistakes. Because everyone fucks up. I just want to bring that level of realism to the story. I want you to hurt when Clara makes a mistake, I want you to love her and I want you to hate her because she just can't see what you can. I want her to grow, and I want you to see her grow.
That's enough from me for now, though.
Lots of Love;
B.E. Nomads
p.s: so, when I made Clara I didn't intend this at all, but if you want a real life comparison as to what she looks like I would suggest looking up Emma Caulfield (AKA Anya from Buffy). A picture of her came up on my dash and I realized 'well damn. That's Clara.' I have a specific picture in mind when I say that, of course, and if you are curious I'll link to it in my profile. Clara is (in case you were wondering) of Spanish descent so the comparison isn't perfect, but it's a nudge in the right direction. (Her grandmother is from Spain, hence the rosary I mentioned in earlier chapters.)
p.p.s: CHARACTER CAMEO NEXT CHAPTER.