CONTENT: this is where that 'graphic sex' thing starts, just fyi.
[ 3 :: You Won't Have to Be Alone Anymore ]
That could not have gone better.
Allowing herself an amused smile as she waited for the woman to follow her out of the VIP club, one she shifted to mirror the sordid intent she'd spoke of once she caught Soldier Girl's eye again, Morinth tried to remember a time when gathering information had been so easy. She hadn't known for certain that the woman was in command, or in a position of leadership that demanded constant control over personal behaviour- she'd merely guessed. Had waited to hear that, perhaps, what the soldier did was 'classified,' or that she wasn't in quite as lofty a rank as had been presumed; instead, she got the unvarnished truth, with no need for conjecture.
From there on, Soldier Girl had felt comfortable enough to offer more information than she'd intended, initially. She was, in fact, in a position of full command; was, in fact, lonely, tired, and constricted in her day to day habits, thanks in large part to the position she held. The rest had simply fallen into place, helped along by Morinth allowing her to keep her name a secret, the loose detail she provided giving her the ability to ease into an unfamiliar comfort zone... and once that happened, more details arrived. Personal truths that the soldier was unlikely to have told anyone, for any reason, though some of those had been given without conscious thought. They were simply reactions; ones Morinth had picked up on, and run with.
The only trick now was streamlining the process- keeping the woman tethered to that false sense of security, that sense of freedom that came with breaking free of an otherwise dreary routine, and, most importantly: propagating the illusion of choice.
As such, the shift in the soldier's demeanor- evident in her acquiescence, in the clear thrill she seemed to get as she allowed herself to speak more bluntly- was a welcome one. Little by little, she was allowing herself to be coaxed from nervous energy to anticipation, to hunger, a newfound confidence communicated in her posture, in the stray glances she afforded Morinth- and the hints of a smile that spoke of someone who couldn't believe her good fortune. To Soldier Girl's mind, she had successfully maintained a comfortable distance.
Eventually, she would learn otherwise. When the night had come to its conclusion, all that pride, all that control, would be torn away, flaunted before the remnant shreds of the woman's 'true' self. What remained of the conscious mind would be allowed to see, in brutal detail, a body that was no longer responding to her will, but to Morinth's; allowed to see herself act out in ways that were humiliating, demoralizing- dehumanizing, as it were- and allowed to feel the enjoyment she derived from it, all the while knowing that something was horribly, horribly wrong. In that, Soldier Girl would be serving a purpose Nef, whom she'd spared such cruelties, could not have, satisfying desires that had gone unslaked through the long con that had come to an end none too long ago.
And in her crescendo, in those moments the emotional backlash would hit the apex of its intensity, it would all be ripped away. The soldier would be another file in the archives, just like the rest; a stillframe memory of fleeting impressions; an imprint in an internalized holojournal.
The thought of that end-game made Morinth anxious, made her want to move things along quicker than perhaps her prey was comfortable with- but she kept herself in check, instead guiding the soldier to the center of the large living room once they entered her apartment, hands coming to rest on the woman's generous hips.
"You're not still nervous, are you?" Morinth asked, canting her head to one side, noting the tension rising again in Soldier Girls's shoulders.
"'Nervous' isn't really the word for it," she replied, offering a halting smile, her eyes turning downward- both to dodge the direct gaze and, Morinth presumed, get a good look at the body that was lightly pressed against her own.
"Anxious, then?" Morinth said, letting her voice drop, body angled to start urging the woman to backpedal, little by little, guiding her to the wall behind her. "-Eager?" Giving those hips a light shove to push Soldier Girl back against the wall, the asari offered a disarming smile to off-set the move. "I bet you don't get to feel either that often... except those times you know you're being deployed- know at any second you'll be smelling blood, steel, sweat... every muscle primed and ready."
"Sounds like you've got some experience with that," was the somewhat awkward response, one that might be off-putting if not for the distinct shift in the voice's timbre.
Arousal; plain as day.
Morinth fought a grin, at that, maintaining the easy smile as her hands curved inwards, palms smoothing over the material of the woman's dress shirt, taking in the distinct hint of musculature beneath that material, muscles that tightened in the wake of the contact. "I know enough to say that sex, and aggression..." her hands shifted, moving upwards slowly, until her fingers nudged the undersides of Soldier Girl's breasts, "-they're not as different as we like to think. Even if the results aren't the same, the anticipation always is..."
Before there could be any response or protest, Morinth drew her prey into a kiss, the shiver the asari suppressed moving instead through the soldier's body. Emboldened, the hands that teased at the woman's breasts shifted upwards, palms dragging blatantly over the both of them, drawing the tucked-in material of the dress shirt upwards, the more direct touch earning a soft noise from her covered mouth. The move made those finely-tuned muscles go taut, her wrists caught in a tight grip, the temptation to resist nearly followed up on- but just as quickly abandoned, even as the kiss broke.
Still, the reaction was profound enough to make Morinth wonder if, perhaps, she'd let herself move a little too quickly, though her words, "Remember... no one's watching," came out easy in spite of the urgency she felt, meant to sooth. "You can relax."
"I did mention I'm not used to this anymore, didn't I?" the soldier replied a bit haltingly, even as she relaxed the grip she had on Morinth's wrists- allowed her hands to trail down leather-clad arms in a return on that affection.
"But it's what you came here for, isn't it?" Morinth replied, drawing her hands inward to start working open the buttons of the dress shirt. "Under your own control... your own desires... trying to break a pattern where this-" -her fingers snuck beneath the opened shirt, giving newly bared skin a taste of direct contact, just below the underwire of a standard-issue bra, "-isn't an option you can take."
As predicted, the words, the actions, were hitting every soft spot- bringing on audible breaths, bringing back that wonderful mix of need and apprehension, the latter expressed in the occasional glance downwards... as if Soldier Girl didn't quite believe this was happening.
"Let me do this for you," Morinth said gently, drawing her hands back up to tease her fingers along the hardened peaks of the woman's breasts as their gazes locked, her lips close to her prey's own as a soft, halted sound came in response to her manipulations. "Let me break the pattern..."
And how much will you hate me, Morinth thought, tilting her head to tease her lips over the smooth skin of her quarry's throat, feeling the pulse of blood beneath and a resultant rush of tension through her lower abdomen, when you realize that I got you to offer yourself to me, completely, while you still had a choice? The second hint of a sound in the woman's throat gave answer enough on its own, forcing Morinth to hold back a smile. How much will you hate yourself, knowing that someone as proud as you could let this happen?
Letting her hands drop down to untuck the dress shirt from the soldier's slacks, she withdrew enough to glance up at the indulgent expression that was there to greet her- that slight knit in the woman's brows, those green eyes closed, jaw tensed.
We'll see how proud you are when all this is over...
[...]
The ferocity of her body's response to Morinth's manipulations was, to put it mildly, embarrassing. Even leaving the VIP club, Shepard had been only too aware of the ache in her lower abdomen, a tension that had continued downwards- spread through her muscles, priming them for an act she'd only indulged in on her own. And here, with little more than teasing friction to blame for it, she had her attention shifted to the obvious moisture between her thighs, even as she found herself reminded, one more time, of whose eyes were on them, all thanks to Morinth's attempts to put her at ease.
But no matter how peculiar, or out of place it felt, there was no getting away from the fact that it was all really happening.
"You're still holding back," she heard Morinth murmur against her neck, felt slender fingers splay against her midsection, felt them nudge beneath the raised material of her shirt. "Keeping all that intensity locked inside... does it ever hurt, physically? Restraining yourself like this?"
She was being goaded, she knew- goaded into responding, into acting out somehow, proving herself. In that instance, she complied- both in the interests of maintained modesty, the outsider's stare that might not been present still managing to assert itself in her thoughts, and in loosening the reigns, just a little. Seizing Morinth's wrists, taking the opportunity afforded to her by the divided attention communicated in those touches, she reversed their positions with little difficulty, shoving the asari back against the wall, their bodies flush against each other.
"How's that for restraint?" Shepard offered, even as she had to chide herself for being so quick to find confidence in the familiarity of struggle, rather than intimacy.
She got no verbal response; shouldn't have expected one after the grin she saw spreading over Morinth's face. The move had served to invigorate, spurring action, the asari's hands raising to shove Shepard away with little warning or pretense, a retaliation that was followed immediately by Morinth slamming into her with the force of a bulldozer, the impact sending her skidding against the thinly carpeted floor beneath them.
The woman was on top of her in an instant, taking advantage of the wind getting knocked clean out of her to pin her wrists down to either side of her head. Everything in her screamed to fight back, but she stopped herself short with a stern inward reminder that her normal, knee-jerk reactions wouldn't serve her well here- and was brought even further to heel by the look she saw in Morinth's eyes when she regained herself.
If ever there was a time she could call a stare truly predatory, this would have been it.
"You fight back," Morinth panted as she fit one leg between Shepard's own, her fierce smile, teeth bared, as much an animal's snarl as it was an expression of approval. "Good. I like that."
"Thought you said this wasn't a fight," Shepard said, catching her breath slowly- only to find it hitch as Morinth's body rocked forwards, the slow grind of the thigh between her legs making her entire body go rigid.
"It doesn't have to be," Morinth replied, her grin taming somewhat at the commander's response, whatever had been awakened forcibly reigned in. "Shouldn't be, in your case. Might be fun to be make this more sporting, but not this time. I didn't bring you here to see your training in action."
Shepard let out a short chuckle; tried her best to relax her muscles, even as everything in her- that training, as it was so aptly put- ached to respond with more aggression, just as badly as she ached for something more than just subtle friction. "They didn't give us much 'training' like this in basic."
"Maybe your handlers didn't," Morinth said, her body rocking forward again, lending weight to the slow grind against the woman beneath her, "but something did. And with you? I'd rather see you shift all that energy, all that tension, into everything else you're feeling..."
Right then, a very real, very sudden hint of sensation sparked to life between Shepard's legs, direct stimulus that had nothing to do with Morinth's steady grinding. It made her breath catch, the rigidity in her muscles amplifying briefly, eyes closing as if that might help her absorb the disembodied sensations more easily. Unable to keep a choked moan in check, her hips tilting back in both encouragement, and an involuntary attempt to squirm away, the sensation shocked her too much to keep pace with what was happening in the first place- until it dawned on her that the asari was using little more than the species' natural gift of biotics.
"Easy," Morinth said gently, watching Shepard's every expression like a hawk. "Take a breath- and just let yourself enjoy what I can give you... Show me the woman under all that conditioning..."
The sensation intensified, then, solidified, the tingle blossoming into full-on stimulation, as effective as touch, far more potent, and too abrupt to allow Shepard the luxury of restraining her reaction. Her head jerked back, back arching, another involuntary sound of exertion leaving her, even as she attempted to bite it back. It was sad to admit that she'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have someone else do the work for her; have something other than her own hand between her legs, and this... went far beyond anything she'd felt before, left her gasping when it finally relented.
"There she is," Morinth murmured appreciatively. "That's what I want to see..."
Had it not been for those words, Shepard might have been too busy wrapping her mind around the disembodied touch- and the sheer intensity of it- to notice the draft teasing at her bared skin, the tug of the material as her shirt was slowly being unbuttoned, or the fact that one of her wrists had been released. The hazy memory of Samara's presence, of what the matriarch might be seeing, was enough to goad her into action, the realization of what that draft and chafing signified prompting her to reflexively seize Morinth's wrist.
"Do you think maybe you should slow down a little?" she said, aware of the hint of cold exasperation in Morinth's eyes- and of the strange stimulation between her legs disappearing entirely.
"You didn't object before," Morinth said, the tinge of impatience in her tone difficult to ignore. "I didn't think you'd start now."
I didn't think I'd be flashing your mother, either, she thought, scrambling to try and come up with a reason for calling a halt.
Thankfully, a solution had already presented itself: "It's the biotics," she said, a little more abruptly than intended. "I'm not used to them being- implemented like that." Offering a halting smile, one she hoped read as sheepishness for the right reasons, rather than the wrong ones, she said, "You see them rip apart everything from mechs to packs of hungry varren- you get a little nervous about having it used for anything too sensitive."
If there was a medal for staying cogent in spite of being so turned on it hurt... she was convinced she'd be first in line to receive it.
Morinth chuckled, at that, her amusement sincere enough that Shepard hoped it was a sign she'd bought it. "I guess I should have thought of that," she conceded, deftly opening the last couple buttons of the dress shirt with her free hand, and letting the material fall open. "Was hoping to use my hands for other things," she continued, hand asserting itself over Shepard's breast, "but I can understand being wary. So... I'll give it a rest, for now. But after this... you'll just need to trust that I've got everything under control..."
[...]
But she hadn't, for a moment there.
The exhilaration, the thrill of the hunt, seeing the woman beginning to open up and then shut down so quickly... Morinth had felt her own control slipping, just slightly. Felt herself becoming impatient, overeager, even angered, the urgency of her own desires making her forget, for a moment, how much sweeter this would all be if she allowed this to pan out the way she'd planned it. To let all of this be given, before it was taken.
That she still had a ways to go to accomplish what she wanted to. The woman could make amends for the slight of resistance later- for now, Morinth needed to regroup, as quickly as possible. It was a simple matter- reciting to herself what she'd learned, what she knew, as she followed along with that one, simple request.
Sexuality, exposure, clearly made Soldier Girl nervous- not on the basis of the act itself, but on the basis of implied submission. That was obvious enough in the attempted reversal, in the added attempt to bring things back to a pace that was less- feverish. It was a mis-step that could have been disastrous, but thankfully, it hadn't been. Her quarry was still beneath her, still receptive- still exuding tension, showing all the signs of someone who became easily restless, who didn't like to surrender... but who was, in light of the powerful wave of desire that simple round of stimulus had brought to the fore, allowing for it, little by little. Would allow for it, if certain concessions were made.
Letting her eyes trail along skin marred by scarring, signs of combat that did little to distract from the distinctly feminine curves of a modest bust line, a tapered waist, and generous hips, Morinth afforded her quarry a smile- and slid her hand down along the bare skin of a defined ribcage. Shifting her body to get into a position that allowed her to open the fly of the clean-pressed slacks and nudge her fingers beneath the material of plain, white undergarments, she watched the woman's face intently. That nervousness had resurfaced, briefly, as if having bare skin touch her so directly meant more than the biotics put to use previously, her teeth worrying just slightly at the inside of her lower lip as her eyes shifted between the progress of Morinth's hand, and the asari's face.
Then, at the moment of direct contact, those eyes closed, mouth opened slightly as if to offer up a sound, but none came. Her head tilted back, the slight knit that had appeared along her brow before becoming more pronounced. The reaction was immediate, as telling as the slick warmth that greeted Morinth's forefinger, the half-hardened state of the small, hypersensitive bundle of nerves she put the bulk of her attention towards letting her know just how aroused the woman had become.
She leaned down, lips brushing against her quarry's ear, the gesture earning her a ragged, half-restrained moan, "How did I know you'd be this wet?" murmured gently, tone lascivious. Then, and only then, did she shift her cadence, allowing the first of the haze she'd assert over the soldier to set in, her words, "And it's all because of me- isn't it?" promising to be the first implanted suggestion in a long line of many.
Just enough to urge her prey along- to ensure compliance- and still give the necessary illusion of self-control.
[...]
As daft as the question was, Shepard couldn't help but ask herself how had it gotten this far, this quickly.
Entertaining herself with the idea that it would, letting it simmer beneath the surface as a possibility, didn't seem to shock it into reality as much as Morinth's hand moving lazily down her body had. Forced to bite back the urge to put a stop to it before it went too far, reminding herself that she had to wait, that timing was essential, that it wasn't until the predator hovering over her dropped the walls and attempted to engage a meld that Samara would intervene, she swallowed her nervousness- her pride- and allowed that hand to slip beneath her clothing.
That first touch was electric, amplified by the deep tones of Morinth's voice in her ear, the reason for her nervousness seeming to become not only distant, but patently ridiculous. Samara had her own agenda; there was no reason to worry about her, or her judgments. No reason to concern herself with anything other than the moment, and take from it what she could.
Which, as it turned out, was plenty.
Morinth had been right, as she had been with everything else: it felt... incredible to just let go of all the pretense, to run with the implied permission, to accept the entirely too pleasurable sensations that arose from that continued contact. The touch wasn't an exploratory one, wasn't experimental; Morinth knew precisely where to go, and what to do, angling immediately for her clitoris to establish steady contact, the pad of the asari's forefinger drawn in slow circular patterns against the small bud of flesh. Immediately there'd been a sharp contraction along her insides, muscles bearing down tightly, a rough gasp drawn in as her shoulders went taut, back arching, hips raising to add more pressure to those careful manipulations.
"How long has it been since you've been this turned on?" Shepard heard Morinth ask, the woman's voice resonating against her ear, inciting a tremble that worked its way through her shoulders. "How long since you let someone do something about it?"
"Too long," she heard herself say through halted breaths, the thought that had been recurrent throughout the night finally given voice.
That alone should have been a stern warning- but as with everything else, she couldn't summon the will to care.
"And how badly have you wanted someone to?" Morinth continued, applying more pressure and speed to the circular movements of her fingers, the shift drawing a strained whimper from the woman beneath her. "Tried to imagine that it wasn't your hand between your legs at night... that it was someone else's, feeling every little response- hearing every sound..." Shepard felt the smile that resulted from that, rather than seeing it, her eyes still shut tight as she struggled to keep up with every response her body gave. "How good did it feel, thinking you did to them what they were doing to you? That they wanted you, badly- wanted to know the way you felt, what you looked like when you finally gave in..."
She didn't answer; couldn't answer. As humiliating as the questions were- as they should have been- as targeted as they were to her every sore point, they were getting to her in an entirely different way, a sense of fulfillment, of relief, flooding through her, the feelings combining seamlessly with the attentions she was afforded. Attentions that were amplified, suddenly, by the return of that altogether alien sensation the biotics that had been used before, Morinth's fingers teasing at her entrance, flirting with the idea of penetration, before finally sliding into her, the disembodied energy replacing the touch of fingertips against her clit.
Her thighs tensed, the staggered half-whimpers that had left her before solidifying into an unrestrained moan, her hips tilting urgently to press herself against Morinth's hand as another powerful contraction tore through her.
"You've got all that now," Morinth said into her ear, gently, coaxing her along with words as much as touch. "Someone who appreciates the need for that cold facade... but would rather see what's underneath them. Appreciates you like no one else ever could- or ever will..."
Breathing deeply, catching the distinct scent of the asari's skin, Shepard found herself sinking deeper into a mindset that she knew, somewhere, that she should have been fighting-
-couldn't remember, suddenly, why she needed to; wasn't sure she cared; only knew how much she appreciated that touch, those words-
"And soon... you'll get to see exactly what you do for me. Every last detail..."
The implication was enough to shock her out of it, enough to send a contradictory jolt through her, her mind seizing on what that meant, beneath the surface- just as surely as it seized on how badly she wanted to see what was being offered. That wasn't how this was supposed to go, was it-?
"You won't have to be alone anymore...