Liza walked into the Tech Lab after lunch. She opened her mouth to speak to Mordin but heard the audible "click!" of the door locking before she could use her vocal cords. She turned, raising a brow at the now locked door. Mordin hardly ever locked the lab. She then noticed how the shutters had been closed over the engineering window. Mordin only ever did that when she was sleeping or wanted privacy of one sort or another, whether it was a check on her implants or she was just changing clothes. Strange that they would be closed now…
The room was a little warmer than usual, probably something off with the vents, maybe Mordin had turned it up because of the plant sample they'd collected off a planet they'd surveyed (it was tropical after all). Liza tugged gently at her collar, pulling the fabric away from her neck in order to get some air to her constricted skin and cool a little. It wasn't unbearably hot but it was significantly warmer than usual, enough for her clothes to cling to her skin just enough to be annoying.
She approached the salarian professor, leaning her back against the lab table, leaving about two feet of space between them. She stared out of the window for a moment, watching the stars pass as tiny streaks of light.
"How's the experiment?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"Need five minutes for establishing parameters of incubator. Sample is quite delicate. Need to be precise in programming."
She nodded and resumed looking out of the window, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he sipped at his tea, one hand around the mug, the other hand nimbly typing in the coding for the incubator. She could never get over how nimble those fingers were. How could he possibly do all of those things he did with so few fingers? Whether typing code, stitching up a wound, or undressing her (whether or not it was for clinical matters or more personal ones), or even the way he somehow made every nerve in her body feel loved, alive, and appreciated while simultaneously wanting to short out and fry from the overload of sensation as he touched her.
She crossed one foot over the other at the thought, squeezing her thighs together, trying to ignore the rush of heat that the memories sent straight through her to that ever annoying part of her anatomy that demanded attention. Attention that a low-libido salarian wasn't always able to give. It was hard to get him in the mood for anything remotely sexy. She knew what she was in for when she first got together with the older Salarian, and she loved him deeply. Just sometimes her fingers weren't enough to satisfy her – they were too many and too clumsy.
She knew she was tense with the pent up energy – it had been a long time since they'd done anything romantic or even sensual not to mention sexual, and the last time they'd tried to have sex he got called off when a project went into a critical state. Talk about killing the mood. And with a salarian, moods like that were hard to rekindle. So she was tense, coiled up like a Mako suspension spring and under pressure as if an elcor had sat on her. The tension hadn't gone unnoticed by most of the crew, with Joker sending her "helpful" vids and Grunt downright telling her she needed to mate (and then suggesting to see if those breeding requests were still open on Tuchanka). Hell, at lunch today Jack had even offered to take her to hire a hooker for a night on their next shore leave – to which Liza threatened to rip the other biotic apart, atom by atom and rearrange it so no one in the galaxy would ever want to fuck her. To which Jack laughed, fear subtly flashed behind her eyes, and pretended to pass the whole suggestion off as a joke. Then she said something that stuck with Liza all the way up the slow-ass elevator into the lab.
"You know, there's got to be some sort of salarian aphrodisiac – if you get some of that, you wouldn't be as tense as you are now, Z. The whole sexual tension you're carrying is affecting everyone around…except maybe Javik. Shit, the cheerleader came down to me last night, needing a good fuck. She was almost as desperate as you are."
The possibility of an aphrodisiac had been an intriguing idea, Liza had to admit to herself. She would be lying if she said she hadn't entertained the thought of something to give Mordin a little…boost. She knew it was wrong, immoral even – he was older and he was a salarian, so his sex drive wasn't even close to matching her younger, human libido. Her mind quickly buried itself in the gutter despite her best intentions. She was simply going to help Mordin with whatever project he was working on now. Then take a cold, cold shower. A long cold shower.
While she had been gazing out of the window, thoughts wandering past those tiny pinpricks of light, Mordin had finished the programming he needed as well as his tea. He caught her off guard when he took her hand in his and stepped in front of her, blocking her view and bringing her mind back to the real world – and the increased tension in all of her body, especially the neglected…intimate parts. He was smirking at her, eyeing her up and down, drinking her in. Holding her gaze he slowly peeled off the gloves that were ever present on his nimble fingers and hands. He only ever did that when…oh. Things clicked in her mind – the locked door, the shuttered engineering window, the warmer temperature – that look in his eyes. It finally sunk in how orderly everything was in the lab – usually there were data pads scattered all over the table she was leaning against. It was downright pristine given its usual state, only a few data pads left out, none of them digging into her back as she leaned against the table.
He set the gloves down with a certain deliberation, his large eyes never leaving hers. He gently traced the curve of her cheek with one hand, then her jawline, the other hand coming up to curl around the back of her neck. He leaned in and softly kissed her, a sweet, tender thing. Usually something saved for right before bed, or even in the morning if he was still curled beside her when she woke. She pressed back gently, but eagerly. It was rare that he came onto her like this – something was different. She couldn't put her finger on it – but apparently she could put her tongue on it. She had expected the flavor of him mingled with the tea he'd been drinking, but there was something off about the flavor. She waited a moment before pulling back for breath.
"What was in that tea?" She teased and then giggled as he nudged her crossed ankles with his foot, parting her legs slightly. He was either ignoring the question or avoiding it. He pressed up against her, leaning her back some so he could reach out and sweep the few data pads off of the table, kissing her again as the tech clattered on the floor. He placed his hands on her waist, thumbs in towards her stomach. Still connected at the lips he deliberately dragged his hands down, thumbs tracing the hollow of her hips and the other lithe fingers traced the trajectory of her tush. Those pliant fingers curved into the backs of her thighs as he lifted her up, pushing her backwards onto the table with some help from his hips against hers. She felt more than his hips and legs when he did that. He was definitely in the mood.
As surprised as she was as at his bold actions they were far from unwelcome, which her body obediently reminded her of with a pulse of heat through every nerve. Her hands moved of their own accord, traveling to undo his coat – that handle was extra annoying in this position. His hands slid up to start unbuttoning her blouse, starting at the bottom and working their way up. He was halfway done with his mission when she pushed him back gently and tugged his jacket off. He tossed it off to the side, letting it fall in a heap on the floor somewhere that-a-way.
This disorderliness was so very unlike the systematic scientist salarian that it almost scared her. It was worrying yet welcome but it bothered her enough that she tore her lips from his, gasping for breath, stunned at the desperation in his kiss.
"Mordin, wait, what's happening exactly? It's not exactly unwelcome, far from it to be perfectly honest, but this is all so…uncharacteristic of you."
He smiled, almost seeming embarrassed – like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. A slight rush of blood ran to his face and graced his cheeks. "You asked earlier if there was something in my tea. There was. Noticed increased sexual tension in you as of recent. Wanted to help, but…needed some..." He inhaled deeply, the way only he could, trying to come up with the words, "…help…to help me help you. Black root tea," he nodded towards the cup he had long since emptied, "derived from a plant from Sur'Kesh. Aphrodisiac. Used to help mating process along – especially for us males…" He nearly looked ashamed at this confession.
She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him. "You're telling me that you drugged yourself in order to help me get rid of all this pent up sexual tension?"
He looked at his feet, shuffling them nervously, inhaling deeply again. "Yes."
She took his face in her hands and pulled him into a loving kiss. "Mordin…thank you. It's stupid little things like this that…" She sighed, words not coming to her. She looked deep into his eyes, "I love you, Mordin."
He smiled, his speech much slower and more relaxed than usual, "I know. I love you too, Liza. Know how we salarians resolve feelings quickly. Some feelings cannot be resolved – and will be honest, do not want to resolve this." He stroked her cheek before letting his hand fall to her lap, fingers danced in just the right spot, making her give a small gasp and arching her back, hips moving into the touch of their own accord. "This however, must resolve."
The smirk on his face and the heat in his eyes sent a shock of pleasure and desire and amazement through her, biotics glowing momentarily from the intensity of it. The smirk widened as his fingers left her groin and resumed their work on her half undone shirt, unbuttoning it all the way before slipping his hands under the collar to her shoulders and pushed the white fabric down her arms, eyes ravishing her as though seeing her for the first time. She wanted to cover up, hide the imperfections that marred her skin – scars from surgeries, beatings, fights, and now battles. But he never would've stood for it. He tossed her shirt over his shoulder. It caught on the windowsill momentarily before fluttering, ignored, to the floor.
He slid the straps of her bra down first, maneuvering her arms through them, then reached behind her and snapped the clasp of the damn contraption open. The bra fell off of her body like an autumn leaf falling from a tree, into his waiting hand only to be tossed away like his jacket and her shirt. She made to work on getting his shirt off but he gently swatted her hands away and set on a journey to trace every single scar that marred her beautiful skin, first with his fingers, then with his tongue. She gasped and nearly fell backwards at the intensity of his devotion of worshipping every inch of her. Her otherwise unoccupied hands flew behind her to help support herself. She looked down, watching as he touched and licked every imperfection with such love and reverence, from the scars on her shoulder to the one beside her belly button. She gasped as he traced the scar that split her right nipple, first with his fingers and then with his tongue, curling that delicious tasting wet muscle around the now hard peak and suckling on it as if it were the sweetest ambrosia. He gave the nub a gentle tug with his teeth before moving to the next scar, leaving the other breast alone (much to Liza's displeasure, but that displeasure was quickly tossed aside as he resumed his exploration). The feelings that he stirred up in her heart had her nearly weeping with the beauty of his love and devotion, the feelings that he stirred up in her body had every nerve on overdrive and she was sure she was only seconds away from leaving a puddle of arousal on the lab table – and she still had all of her lower clothes on. The soft whimpers that left her lips were of love, joy, and need. He pulled her off of the table, turning her around in order to trace and love the scars on her back. She squirmed in pleasure and ticklishness as he kissed down her spine and up her sides. When he was done with his exploration there he spun her back around and lifted her back onto the table.
Now those oh-so-nimble fingers flicked open the clasp of her pants, one hand on her rear to pull her hips away from the table, before dipping his free hand underneath the fabric and into the hollow of her hips, pulling the garments down in one motion. He knelt to remove the boots on her feet that impeded the full disposal of her lower clothing. He tugged her right boot off first, then the sock, then their partners on the other appendage. Then she was free of her clothes – entirely naked before him, and the only thing he had shed was his coat. As frustrating as his lack of nudity was, her thoughts flew out the airlock as he traced and kissed even the scars on her feet (which made her curl her toes, giggle, and twitch at the ticklish yet strangely arousing sensation), slowly making his way up her leg. He kissed the top of her right thigh before repeating the process on her other leg. Tracing, kissing, tickling, licking, adoring, admiring, worshipping. He kissed the top of her left thigh, avoiding her most intimate parts, but the feelings he was pouring into these little acts were too much for her. It had been so long since he was able to give her any sort of sexual gratification that it was too much and that kiss on her thigh tipped her over the edge she hadn't even known she was on. She cried out as she fell into the bliss, his name on her lips. A broken and beautiful pair of syllables that held such reverence and love.
Tears rolled down her face, tears of joy and wonder. What he did was beautiful – it made her feel beautiful. There was no one else in the universe, just them. He was not like other lovers. Never started at her breasts or groin – he took his time (odd for a salarian but made it all the more greatly appreciated) and worshipped her. Just her. He touched every part of her, from her toes (which were still tingling from the tracing of her scars there) to her fingertips (which he was now kissing gently). He pulled her up toward him, taking the pressure off of her trembling arms, and kissed each tear that fell, wiping them away with his love.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping herself around him, just holding him close. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it out of it elastic restraint, honey-gold waves tumbling down her shoulders and naked back. The hair tie was tossed aside before those fingers stroked her, one hand pressed against the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles there, the other alternating between massaging her scalp and trailing through her hair, gently undoing any tangles he found. Once he had detangled her hair he gently used those same sunny locks to pull her face from his neck and into a searing kiss.
She finally found the focus to move her arms, hands resuming their earlier mission to shed him of his clothes. He relented to her wishes and pulled away from the kiss, standing still and watching her as she divested him. She pulled open the latches of his undersuit top teasingly slow, taking her time to appreciate him as he had with her. She kissed each scar as she peeled the material away and tossed it to the side. Each of his scars held a story, a story of defiance and survival. A story that was his alone – forever a part of him, each scar as unique as the man who bore them. She traced his scars, kissing them in the wake of her fingers, delicate in their caresses just as his were in his worship of her. She returned the worship, pouring her heart and soul into every touch and breath. Soon she had him trembling under her ministrations, arms propped against the table in order to hold him up. She smiled softly, kissing him slowly. She suddenly slid off the table with a grace she didn't know she had and turned them around so he was the one leaning against the table.
She brought his lips down to hers, kissing him again as her fingers worked at the clasps that held his pants in place, fumbling briefly but ultimately successful. She pulled back from the kiss with a gasp, before smirking at him with lusty eyes and slowly peeling the restricting garment off. She knelt, as he had, to undo the clasps of his boots and remove them, one at a time, and finally divesting him of his last piece of clothing. She traced and kissed each scar she found, starting at his ankles and ending at his thigh, starting with his left leg and ending with his right. He pulled her back up into his embrace, lips insistent against hers. He flipped them again and placed her onto the table, holding her close.
She felt every little movement, from the beat of his pulse in the neck she had curled a hand around to the strain of the muscles in his back where her other hand lay to the throb of desire as more blood rushed to the hardness that was pressed between their stomachs. She rolled herself against him slowly, softly, teasing him with the undulation of her body. He groaned lowly, a soft sound of pleasure that reverberated through her chest. His hands moved to her rear, fingers digging in as he pulled her tighter against him. She whimpered at the intensity of the small contact.
"Oh, Mordin…"
Her head fell back as his mouth latched onto her neck, licking and sucking and kissing and nipping the tender flesh he found there. She rolled her hips against him, an unconscious movement; whimpers falling from her lips like rain from a cloud on Tuchanka's dry soil, such was the need, or meteorites gracing the night sky, such was the beauty. His fingers danced up from her waist, tracing the outline of her areola before brushing against the pebbled flesh in the middle. He twisted that peak of pleasure gently between his fingers, earning more moans from the woman he loved. His mouth left her neck to suckle the twin, effectively turning up her volume. His free hand wandered down, his touch like the faintest of breezes, his caresses like the sun on her skin. Finally he touched the aching part between her legs, stroking the sensitive little nub with his thumb, his other fingers disappearing even lower to flutter over her labia.
She gave a broken sob of need, "Mordin…please. I need you."
He weaned himself from her breast and placed a soft kiss on her lips, "How am I to deny my love?"
She cried out as he dove into her depths, fingers working her expertly. He curled and thrust and twisted his fingers just the way she needed, pushing every pleasure button her body had with his other hand and his lips. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging to him. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from love and excitement. It had been so long since he's touched her like this, she was crumbling like a dry sand castle in the wind. He brought down all of her barriers, caressing not only her body but her soul with his love. It was so intense that it wasn't long until another cry of his name left her lips as she arched, head thrown back, hair flying at the movement, catching the light in such a way he thought she may be an angel, glowing from the inside.
He leaned her back, laying her out on the table before him, hair falling over the edge above her head. He watched as she collected herself, chest rising and falling with her panting breaths. It took her a moment until she could open her eyes, but when she did they landed right on him. She reached out for his hand, hers trembling. He took it, tracing his fingers over hers. He leaned over the table, kissing her on the lips gently before making a gentle trail down her torso and abdomen. He was near the junction of her thighs when she pulled him back up to her face.
"No…Mordin. I need you. All of you." She rolled her hips dragging her warmth against his hardness. "Please, no more teasing. I beg of you, Mordin. Mercy."
He smiled softly before kissing her again, rolling his hips against hers. She moaned into his mouth.
"Mercy you shall have," he crooned softly. He pushed into her slowly, both of them relishing the feel of their joining. He pulled out slowly, not quite as slowly as before but still…
He laid gentle kisses on the skin in front of him: her neck, her clavicle, her throat, her jaw, her cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, and lips. She returned the kisses with equal passion, punctuated with soft whimpers. Her breasts fit perfectly in the indentation in his chest, like they were made for each other. He gently took one of her thighs in his hand, pulling it up before pressing it down towards her chest. She gasped at the new angle and depth. He still moved slowly within her, deliberate in his movements. He was not a good fucker more often than not, but he knew how to make love – and damn could he make love to her. His shoulder held her leg in place, his now free hand going to caress her breast, the other lazily trailing down her stomach until he hit that magic button hidden in the top of her folds. She cried out, trying to arch but he restrained her. Fingers danced on and around that lovely nub, enhancing the feel of him inside of her. A nip on the neck, a pinch of a nipple, and a perfectly timed gentle yet firm push on her clit had her quaking in his hold, walls fluttering around him and her loudest cry yet flew from her throat as she peaked and fell, clamping down around him drawing noises from him that he wouldn't never admit to making if anyone else ever asked. She was babbling now, words his translator didn't fully understand. There was his name, almost every other word, something about her gods. Her undying love laced through every word and that he didn't need a translator for.
Her mouth latched onto his, fingers tracing his spine as her other hand roamed his chest, pushing on and stroking those spots that she knew drove him wild. It wasn't long until his thrusts became erratic. She wiggled her leg out from under him, wrapping it and its mate around him, pulling him in.
Her breathing was still heavy from her last orgasm, "Mordin…let go. It's okay. I'm right here, I'll catch you when you fall."
He nodded slightly, gasping as she tilted her hips, stroking him in a whole new angle.
She looked straight into his eyes, and her whispered "I love you" was all it took. With a few more strokes and a cry of her name he emptied himself into her, her hips still going to help him drag out that oh so wonderful feeling. They lay there, wrapped in each other's arms on the lab table. She sighed, content and sated. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, her heart was light with joy. He pulled away, resting his elbows on the table, his chin in one hand, a finger of the other drawing lazy circles on her stomach. He looked happy, his eyes brimming with love, yet he looked smug, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Better?" he asked softly.
She nodded, "Oh yeah. Damn…that was the most mind-blowing sex I've ever had." Her eyes reflected his love and happiness. "I think I'll be good for a while."
He hummed contentedly, "Will be hard to outdo myself next time then? Always have enjoyed challenges." He winked at her, actually winked.
A blush spread across her cheeks as the meaning of his words sunk into her sluggish brain. She smiled lazily, "Mm, I'll be looking forward to it. But right now, I think it's nap time."
He chuckled and pulled her into a sitting position, slipping out of her before clutching her to him, lifting her up and carrying her to the cot they shared. He laid her on the small bed, a custom double wide cot he had pulled some strings to get. He grabbed the sheet and crawled in beside her, tucking them both in. She snuggled up to him, her head tucked under his chin, face pressed against his neck. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, sighing contentedly.
"I love you, Liza."
"I love you too, Mordin."
They rested in silence for a few minutes before Mordin spoke up again, "Next time you need help, just ask. Always here for you, will help however I can." He smirked, "Made sure to stock up on tea, so will try to be a bit better at keeping you de-stressed."
She smiled softly against his neck, murmuring too low for him to hear. He pulled away to ask her to repeat herself but she had fallen asleep. He smiled softly, stroking her cheek and placing a kiss on her forehead. He curled back up around her and drifted off to sleep as well.
"EDI unlock the damn door, I need to speak with Mordin." Shepard stood in the hallway between the Armory and Tech Lab. She had just finished giving a piece of her mind to the damned Illusive Man about his decision to send her to a derelict Collector vessel when he knew it was a trap so she was already fuming. The stubborn AI would not unlock the door.
"Professor Solus has requested to not be disturbed unless there were an emergency."
Shepard growled, "EDI, can you override those since I'm his commanding officer?"
"No, Shepard. He is…currently engaged. Disrupting him is not something I'd suggest."
Jack came up behind her, looking for the commander – wanting to talk about getting hold of that aphrodisiac for Liza. She laughed when she saw the locked lab door.
"Are they finally fucking? It's about damn time!"
EDI's projection now addressed the psychotic biotic, "Jack, Professor Solus would like you to keep your voice down so you don't wake Liza."
Jack's laugh turned to a guffaw, turning the volume up instead of down.
Next thing Shepard and Jack knew was that the door slid open, revealing a glaring, half-asleep Liza, wearing only her blouse, data pad in hand. Jack was able to block the flying data pad before it hit her face. Liza rolled her eyes before turning on her heel and striding back to Mordin, wearing his armor again, minus the coat (which was still lying on the floor in a messy heap). She slid her arms up his chest before hooking them around his neck, kissing him softly before letting him tuck her head back in the safe space under his chin. He stroked her back softly.
Shepard stood there stunned, "EDI, go ahead and close the lab back up until they're ready for company."
The AI did as she was told, the lovely image of the couple disappearing behind cold steel. "Anything else, Commander?"
"That's all."
"Logging you out, Shepard."
Jack was snickering again, quieter than before. The renegade Spectre turned to her, "What?"
Jack handed her the data pad Liza had thrown: Shut up, Jack. It's none of your business. Great idea earlier though, but he beat you to it
Shepard rolled her eyes and walked off – she really didn't want to know.