"Reality is the finest flesh, oh bearer mine. And are you not…hungry?" - Skull of Dire Ahamkara
It wasn't more than fifteen minutes before the soft hiss of the door opening signaled Variks' return, and he swept back into the pod, carrying a platter laden with all the trappings of dinner.
Turning in her seat, Meren eagerly eyed the contents of the plate as he made his way over to her. From where she was sitting, she couldn't quite make out exactly what everything was. At a distance, at least, whatever he'd made looked a lot less raw than what had been served the last time they'd had dinner.
Coming alongside her, Variks set the platter down in the center of the table. "Dinner," he purred proudly. Then he took a step back, clasping all four hands in front of his chest, giving Meren a chance to look over the variegated assortment on the plate.
To one side of the platter, there were three skewers of what appeared to be chicken, seasoned and seared just to the point of being pleasantly golden. Triangles of unleavened bread were neatly arranged in a row down the middle of the tray. Alongside them, thinly sliced sections of a seedless star-shaped fruit were fanned out in an equally orderly line.
To Meren's relief, all of it looked surprisingly appetizing. Well, except for the last item that sat on the far side of the plate: three more skewers of raw pink mystery meat.
As unappealing as they were, however, Meren didn't let them detract from the rest of the meal, and chose instead to ignore them. So long as she wasn't going to be the one eating them, they weren't going to bother her in the slightest.
Meren shifted her eyes away from the food and offered her host a beaming smile. "It looks wonderful, Variks," she said truthfully.
Her approval earned her a faint purr from the scribe. Then he stepped back up to the table, and in the same fashion as their dinner before, proudly gave her a rundown of everything on their shared plate.
When he'd finished detailing the provenance of the fruit and bread, and the painstaking preparation of the chicken, he took a moment to retrieve the kettle from the counter nearby. Kettle in hand, he returned to the table and politely refilled her mug before retreating to his seat across from her.
No sooner had Variks been seated than he waved a palm her direction, all but insisting she help herself with the food. An offer Meren found impossible to refuse. She hadn't eaten all day, and everything on the platter looked so good in that moment, that even the thought of using her bare hands to eat didn't bother her. Not like it had before.
With Variks' blessing, her fingers eagerly picked up a skewer of chicken, spinning it round once, looking it over. Up close, she confirmed that it had been cooked and seasoned well. Hopefully, that meant it would taste good too. Taking a tentative nibble, the first bite seemed to melt in her mouth, and she offered her host a hum of approval.
"I am glad you like it," Variks purred, plucking one of the fruits from the platter. Without his mask, his imposing teeth were on full display as he popped it into his mouth and chewed it over a few times, every bit as politely as he'd done during their dinner before.
As he reached next for a piece of raw meat, Meren paused to eye him, admiring his angular unmasked features. "Who would have guessed that I would have the privilege of another dinner with Variks the Loyal."
Variks rumbled calmly at her words, dismissing the comment. "It seems like only yesterday that Yasmin left you in my care," he said. "Irritating as you were, at the time. Returning over and over. Pestering with a thousand questions."
He was obviously teasing, and a smile spread over Meren's face. "Oh, don't make it sound like you didn't enjoy my company."
"Perhaps I did grow…accustomed to it," he replied, doing his hardest to keep his voice apathetic.
"Would you say fond, even?"
A telling glint crossed Variks' eyes. "Perhaps."
With that, any of the day's remaining tension between them subsided, and for the better part of an hour they ate and talked and laughed, reminiscing on the most pleasant moments they'd shared over the past several weeks: late nights spent talking, their shared research, the whole debacle with the Warden Servitor, even. All the good things they'd both sorely miss.
When the pool of memories ran dry and the food on their shared plate began to dwindle, they talked about the City for a while, and then pivoted to Meren's plans for when she returned home. After that, though they'd promised not to dwell on their parting, they took a moment to lament Meren's imminent departure. Not for long, though, and then left it at that before quickly returning to more pleasant chatter.
The old Ishtar Academy became the topic of conversation as they carried on for a while longer, slowly winding the conversation down. A brief foray into the history of the former Academy's demise later, and the platter was reduced to little more than scraps: a few triangles of bread, some scant sections of fruit, and six now-meatless skewers.
It wasn't long, then, until their shared plate was finally picked clean and the last thread of conversation slowly petered off, leaving a natural lull to fall between them. Not because there wasn't anything more to discuss. Even after an hour of chattering back and forth, there was still so much that could have been said. But because in the end, given what time they had, it had been enough.
Sensing it was getting late, Meren seized on the momentary silence and glanced up from the table, scanning the room for something that would give her a proper indication of the time. The pod's nearly bare walls had no chron or display to speak of. But even in their absence, it was reasonable to assume they had carried on for quite a while, and with the Vanguard's orders looming in the back of her mind, she broke the silence.
"This has been wonderful, Variks," she began with some resignation. "But I think it's time I should be going."
Variks perked up, sitting a little straighter in his seat. "Already?"
"Unfortunately so," she replied.
"Ah."
The deflated tone of his reply left her crestfallen. "I wish I could stay longer," she lamented, "but you know how the Vanguard is with schedules and deadlines. Commander Zavala especially, with his whole thing about…" she lowered her voice an octave, attempting to match the Titan's intimidating drawl, "the Vanguard will not tolerate tardiness."
Her lackluster impression managed to bring something resembling a smirk to the scribe's face. "We should not keep them waiting, then."
Rising from his seat, Variks circled the table and offered her a hand. Her mind pleasantly muddled from the food, Meren smiled and took it, allowing him to help her up out of her chair.
As they wandered back towards the pod's door, Meren spouted out a few requisite words of thanks for dinner and his hospitality. It was only polite, after all, considering all the trouble he had gone to in accommodating her. Variks, in turn, bobbed his head along wordlessly, until it came his turn to reply with a few courtesies of his own.
The pleasantries between them quickly ran out, and by the time they reached the pod's door there wasn't much left to be said. So they came to a stop, and for a second just looked at each other, neither sure of what to say next. Neither wanting to be the first to broach the topic of their inevitable goodbye.
Thankfully, Meren overcame her hesitance and managed to pluck up the nerve to speak first. Someone had to.
"Dinner aside," Meren began, "I just wanted to say that the past few weeks we've spent together have been some of the most enjoyable I've had in a long time. You've been such a gracious host, Variks, and all your guidance, your stories - all of it - has meant more to me than I can say." Realizing she had begun to ramble, Meren paused to collect her thoughts. "So, I guess what I mean to say is thank you. For everything. It's truly been a privilege to have been here…and to have met you."
"The same to you," he replied smoothly. "I have, likewise, enjoyed your…remarkable companionship, Meren Hale. It has been too long since I have been graced with good company, and it has been a pleasure to have been given this time with you, however short it may have been."
"Too short."
"Agreed." Variks quickly replied. "But even in our parting, take heart, and let us hope that perhaps this is only goodbye for a time. Perhaps someday, Great Machine willing, our paths will cross again."
Meren privately doubted the Vanguard would ever find reason to send her back out to the Reef - especially not if they caught wind of all the trouble she'd gotten herself into. Yet in spite of her doubt, for all the times she'd preached optimism, only one response seemed fitting. "Let's hope they do," she said.
A wistful look played across Variks' eyes for a brief second before giving her a curt nod. Then before either of them could speak again, he spread his arms and bent at the waist, inclining himself in a deep, gracious bow.
Though the gesture wasn't wholly unexpected, a little flutter ran through Meren's insides, and for an instant, she found herself frozen in place. Fortunately, the feeling quickly subsided and she managed to return the courtesy with a gracious bow of her own.
When she straightened back up a few seconds later, she found that Variks had scooped her satchel up off the floor and was politely holding it out to her. His thoughtfulness only served to bring the stupid flutter surging back, and it took everything in her to will it away long enough to take the bag from his hands.
Murmuring another "thank you", she slung the satchel's strap over her shoulder, and the strange lingering feeling in her gut evaporated as the heft of the bag settled onto her shoulder, reminding her of the reason she had come in the first place.
"Oh, I almost forgot." Reaching into her satchel, she dug out the datapad and held it out to Variks. "I meant to give this back to you."
"Ah," he acknowledged, taking it from her hand. "Did you finish reading everything?"
"No, unfortunately not," she admitted glumly. "I thought about taking it with me, so I could get through the rest of it at home, but considering everything on there, I figured it would be best to leave it here with you. This way, there's no need to worry about it falling into the wrong hands."
"A wise decision," Variks replied, affording her an approving nod. He passed the datapad from one hand to another, then continued, "This reminds me, however." He gave the device a little waggle to emphasize his words. "I have something for you, as well."
An inquiring look crossed Meren's features, but before she could ask what he intended to give her, he set off across the room, depositing the datapad next to the stack of books on the dresser before continuing over to the small chest that sat to the side of his nest.
Her interest piqued, Meren craned her neck to get a better view as Variks opened the chest and hunched himself over. Digging his way through an assortment of colorful fabrics and parchments with all four of his arms, he pawed around for a bit, searching. A full minute of rummaging followed, until Variks at last, found what he was after and straightened up, closing the chest with a free hand. Then he turned and scuttled back to her, with his lower hands cupped around whatever prize he had pulled from the chest. He held it in such a way as to conceal it from Meren's sight, yet as he made his way back to her, she caught a twinkle of radiant purple through the gaps in his fingers.
Stopping before her, Variks paused for dramatic flair, and then he opened his hands to reveal what he'd been hiding: a gleaming violet crystal - a Reef gem - that had been faceted and whittled down into the shape of...something.
"A gift," he chittered, holding the gem out for her appraisal. "To remind you of our time together."
At a sudden loss for words, Meren just stared, finding herself simultaneously enraptured by the thoughtful gesture, and perplexed over what the thing he was offering was even supposed to resemble. Her silent stupor persisted, stretching out for a moment too long. Then Variks brought it to an end as he gingerly took hold of her wrist, lifted her arm, and dropped the amethyst into the palm of her hand.
Holding it up for closer inspection, the crudely-carved gem looked to be fashioned after some sort of squat, bulbous animal, with six stumpy legs, eight eyes, and a wide-smiling, snaggletoothed mouth. Along the ridge of its back, there ran a series of shallow V-shaped gouges that seemed to represent a cluster of spines, and a little U on its backside: a tail.
Taking a longer look, the craftsmanship was by no means what Meren would have considered 'good'. The carved features were haphazard and uneven, as if fashioned by an unsteady hand. Some notches too shallow, others too deep. Nonetheless, despite the awkward execution, judging by all the attempts at intricate detail, someone had evidently spent tireless hours working on the carving, and that effort alone was enough to make the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of her lips.
Turning the figurine over into her opposite hand, Meren puzzled over the mysterious creature for a little longer, trying to decipher what it had to do with their time together, until the sound of Variks' voice pricked at her ears.
"Do you like it?" he asked softly.
Turning her eyes from the gem to look up at him, Meren offered him a genuine smile. "It's... beautiful, Variks. But…" She paused to glance back at the gem. "What is it?"
"A Reef gem."
"No, I-" she half stammered, caught off guard by how literally he'd taken her inquiry. "I know that. I meant, what is it supposed to be?"
"Ah," he acknowledged flatly, and then clicked back a further response in his own alien tongue. "Psakilaas."
No sooner had the word left his mouth than Meren narrowed her eyes. He had to be joking.
If she had heard his pronunciation correctly, the word he'd just said translated literally to "gentle potato". Not that the translation itself was the issue. The Eliksni language had an abundance of odd descriptors for foods and technologies and vocations, each seemingly more incomprehensible than the last. Their strange naming conventions didn't generally get much better when it came to animals, like Sea-Weavers and Sky-Dancers. Yet those names, at least, seemed to hold some sort of reverence. A sense of respect. Surely no noble Eliksni of old had named some poor creature after a vegetable.
Seeing the befuddlement on her face, Variks let out a soft chuckle. "A strange thing to call a beast, I know. But it was given as an endearment. A term of affection." Pausing, he half shuttered his outer eyes to convey a smile. "You see, Psakilaas were once faithful companions to Eliksni. Hunting partners. Familiars. Protectors. Not unlike a dog, or a puppy, to you humans."
Clarification at that point hardly seemed necessary, but still Meren asked, "So it was an animal native to Riis?"
"Correct."
Instantly curious, Meren's eyes lit up. "Did you ever have one as a pet?"
"Ah, no," he replied with some resignation. "House Judgement was not afforded such luxuries. No time. Too many duties to attend to."
Meren felt a little pang of disappointment at how seemingly unfair it was (from her perspective, at least) to deprive the scribes of animal companionship. Still, it made sense, she supposed. Pets were a lot of work, and the scribes of House Judgement arguably had more important things to do than tend to alien dogs.
"This, however," Variks went on, sounding a bit more upbeat, "did not stop me from...befriending a few in my time, and I hold many fond memories of times spent in their company."
"Sounds like you have stories." Meren grinned. "Happy ones."
"Perhaps a few," Variks replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If you would like to hear one…"
"Oh, no. I couldn't possibly-"
"It would not take long," he was quick to reassure.
"When have you ever managed to tell a short story?"
"The one about Beltraks, Wolf Baron was not long," he posited, extending one of his lower hands - the bandaged one, palm upturned.
"I seem to recall you talking for at least thirty-five minutes," she noted, remembering how long-winded he'd been at the time. "And after that, you started right into another story about some Dreg who wandered off to Phobos on a suicide mission!"
He chittered, amused. "Then I will ensure this one is…abridged."
"No."
"Not even a summary?"
Meren raised a skeptical brow at him. "You're really trying to bait me into staying here, aren't you."
"And risk the ire of your Vanguard?" he replied with feigned indignation. "I would never dream of doing such a thing."
She was almost certain he would. Calling him out on the issue, though, was likely only to start an argument, and that was no way to spend the last of their moments together. So all Meren said was, "Another time."
"Another time, then."
With Variks in agreement, Meren took a moment to idly glance back down at the carving in her palm. Funny as the alien 'dog' was, it really had been sweet of him to give her such a thoughtful gift, and she needed to tell him as much. Then she'd be on her way.
Shifting her eyes back up, Meren returned her attention to her gracious host. "Thank you for the gem, Variks," she said. "It really is lovely. Maybe I'll keep it on display in my office at the Academy. It'll be a good talking point when students or other faculty stop by."
"A talking point?" he questioned, the slightest edge of offense creeping into his tone. "Is that all?"
"No, of course not. More than anything else, it will be a reminder of our time together. Like you said."
Her words seemed to placate him, and when he replied the edge had left his voice. "Then the effort will have been worth it."
"You made this?"
Variks offered her a single, slow nod.
His polite acknowledgement came as no surprise. "I should have known," she said with a shake of her head. A slow smile spread across her lips as she held his gaze, and Meren found it in her to say the words she'd held in her heart for so long. "You know, you really are one of the most remarkable people I've ever met."
All too quickly, a teasing glint returned to his eyes. "Flatterer," he growled down at her.
"It's not flattery if it's the truth."
"Even the truth can be used to flatter," Variks countered.
True as his words might have been, Meren wasn't about to let his snark go unanswered. "Maybe so," she said, adamantly holding his gaze. "but this time it was meant as a genuine compliment. You really are remarkable, Variks. Know that. And know that I'll never forget you."
"Nor I you."
His soft reply brought a smile back to her face, and for a moment she just looked up at him, clutching the carving over her heart, a familiar fondness welling in her chest. In that instant, there was so much more she could have said, but she didn't get a chance to say anything at all before Variks spoke again.
"Now this is goodbye, yes?" he asked plainly.
All the fondness she'd felt suddenly concentrated itself into a lump in her throat, and Meren did her best to swallow it down. "I'm afraid so," she replied.
Variks let out a soft sigh of resignation. "A shame, to lose such sweet company." He paused, as if in a moment of reflection. "But this, like all things, must come to an end. Even the good. Woeful though it may be."
Meren matched his sigh, and Variks went on, "However, before we part ways, I ask that you would spare me but a moment longer."
"For what?"
"One last favor."
"And what's that?" she asked, immediately skeptical.
"I had hoped that perhaps you could teach me the human way...to say goodbye."
His request brought a quizzical look to Meren's face. How could he possibly not know how humans said goodbye? Over the past few weeks, every time they'd discussed a new facet of human interaction, he'd seemed to already have a grasp on the matter.
Still, it was possible that somehow the topic of human parting etiquette had evaded him. And besides, all things considered, his request was far from the strangest thing he had ever asked. So Meren decided to humor him and took a second to consider a suitable response as she gingerly tucked the amethyst away in the satchel at her hip.
"Well, there are a few different ways," she finally began once the gem was squared away. "Some people shake hands. Others just wave. In some cases, two people might hug." She raised her shoulders in a slight shrug. "It really just depends on how well you know someone."
"I see," Variks replied. "But tell me, which of these is most...customary among human friends?"
"Any one of them, I suppose," she pondered aloud. "Like I said, it just depends on how well you know someone. What sort of friends you are."
"Hmm," he hummed, seemingly mulling it over. His lower claws tapped together, momentarily clicking out a rhythmic tick tick tick before he clasped his hands together, silencing the sound. "And, in this case, what sort of friend...is Variks?"
A small, tentative smile formed on her lips, and she found she needed no time to consider his words. Her heart already had the answer.
"The very dearest," she replied in a voice hardly above a whisper.
At first, the expression on Variks' face remained unreadable, gaze steeled and unflinching. Then a slow blink crossed his features, and as he gazed down on her, his eyes seemed to soften. He spoke then, with a gentleness in his voice that conveyed a smile his physiology could not.
"Come here," he said as he spread his arms open wide in an oh-so-familiar invitation.
For an instant, Meren regarded him and his offered embrace. Where once there would have been ambivalence, however, this time there was no more than that heartbeat of hesitation before she took three confident steps forward to meet him where he stood and slung her arms around his midsection.
Her enthusiasm was met with a sharp, muffled grunt. More surprise on the scribe's part than anything else. Surprise that faded as suddenly as it had come, and in no time at all his four arms were closing around her slender frame, drawing her into the comforting closeness of an embrace.
They stood there like that for a handful of seconds, silent, yet content in each other's hold. Neither moved, save for the gentle brush of a hand (or three) against the other's back. After all the time they'd spent together, it felt satisfying to have a dear friend so close, and it was clear that neither wanted to be the first to break away, bringing it all to an end.
Nevertheless, pleasant as the embrace was, the Vanguard's orders still loomed, and it didn't take long before Zavala's words had crept back into Meren's head. They rattled around her brain once or twice before she cut them short, heaving a forceful internal sigh and resolving that she needed to be going. Really, this time. It was getting late, after all, and the Vanguard was waiting.
Loosing her arms from around Variks' waist, her hands moved to press against his chest, sliding up until her fingertips brushed the soft collar of fur round his neck. Curling her fingers, Meren buried them in the silky mantle and tilted her head to gaze up at him. She found him looking back and for all of a heartbeat held his questioning gaze. Then before better sense could tell her otherwise, she stretched herself onto the tips of her toes and pressed her lips ever so softly against the side of his mandible, in a tender farewell kiss.
His reaction was almost imperceptible; no more than the slightest tensing of his body beneath her fingertips, and for an instant, Meren feared that she'd offended him.
That fear, however, quickly proved to be in vain as she felt him relax once more. The tension left his shoulders, then his chest, then his neck. And then to her surprise, he leaned in to return the motion, parting his jaws ever so slightly to graze his mandibles against the side of her jaw, in his own approximation of a gentle goodbye "kiss".
The gesture set a pleasant shiver running over her shoulders and down her arms. The brush of his mandibles was ever so tender, conveying a fondness his words never could. So much so that a part of her found itself yearning for him to do it again.
He didn't, of course. As promised during their previous conversations, he made good on his chivalry and his touch began to dutifully retreat from her skin. Or that's what he seemed to be doing. That was, until he abruptly stopped, muzzle mere inches from her cheek, and then made no further move to disentangle his arms from around her frame. Meren, for her part, didn't exactly let go either, and just continued to stand there, finding herself unable (or unwilling) to break free from the warmth of the hug.
So they stayed there like that, wrapped in each other's arms, their faces impossibly close, for what felt like an eternity. Realistically, it was no more than a few seconds or so, and then, in the end, it was Variks who once again closed the distance between them to press his muzzle against her jaw, a soft purr vibrating against her skin as he drew his cheek alongside her jaw in a long, languid nuzzle.
Closing her eyes, Meren lost herself for an instant in his affection before she gave in and leaned into the nuzzle. And why shouldn't she? There was nothing wrong with it, she convinced herself. It was just goodbye. A strange Eliksni goodbye. Nothing more.
Drawing her cheek along his, Variks' purr grew louder as she clutched tighter his robes. His lower arms shifted, wrapping around her waist, drawing her closer, until she was pressed flush to his body.
It was then, nestled up against his unyielding chest, that Meren began to second guess her decision.
Being so close to him was intoxicating in the worst way. The firm press of his body - the smell of his robes - sent her mind swimming with memories of their exchange a few evenings earlier. How she'd been perched atop his lap. How he'd held her. How curious hands had roved over her body, plying at supple flesh.
And it only got worse from there.
Wrapped tightly in Variks' grasp, Meren practically melted into a putty as his muzzle continued moving slowly back along her jaw, until he was nudging at the soft skin just below her ear. But only for a second. Then he was moving lower, tracing his way down the contour of her exposed throat.
His caress raised the hair on the nape of her neck, and Meren could do nothing but lean in all the more. Vaguely, she was still aware that she needed to leave. And she would. Soon.
Just a moment longer, she convinced herself.
Variks' affection came to a pause when his muzzle reached the join of her shoulder where he dallied for a moment, mandibles ghosting over skin. His arms gave her a little squeeze, light and fond, and then he practically doubled himself over to fully bury his face in the crook of her neck.
Given their height difference, standing there with Variks hunched over, face pressed into her shoulder, made the whole thing a little awkward, but Meren didn't mind. In that moment, it just felt nice for him to hold her so close once again. If only she didn't have to leave. If only she could ignore the Vanguard's orders and stay there, in the Reef. With him.
A soft sigh of Ether-tinged breath washing over her skin brought Meren to her senses, well half of them, and her hold on his robes loosened. As sweet as their farewell was, now was the time to pull away, say goodbye, and leave it at that.
But just as she mustered the determination to release Variks' robes and bid him farewell, she heard the softest of sounds at her neck: an inhale, barely audible above the sound of her own pounding heart.
All at once, Meren went rigid and her thoughts began to race. Was he seriously smelling her? He couldn't be, could he? Yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that was exactly what he was doing.
She could have stopped and rebuked him right there. Should have. There was no way that smelling someone so directly, even in Eliksni culture, was part of an innocent goodbye. Instead of pushing him away as she should have, though, Meren did nothing. She just remained standing there, slowly going slack in his arms as he so obviously drank in her scent for a moment more.
When a quavering exhale followed, sending a cool breath ghosting over Meren's skin, what power she had left over her body seemed to vanish. In that moment, it was as if time stood still, with neither daring to move again - to breathe, lest the moment be gone.
It ended eventually, of course, with Variks stirring and unburying his face from the crook of her neck. Just as Meren thought he meant to pull away, however, her world seemed to shatter as she felt the very last thing she'd ever expected: the faint prick of needle-point teeth against her flesh.
The sensation of his teeth on her neck stole the air from her lungs, and set her head spinning. Never had she fantasized about how Eliksni teeth might feel against her skin. But there they were, stinging and scraping their way along her neck, in the most dizzying and delicious way. And all Meren could think was that she wanted more.
Then almost as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. One last graze of alien teeth. One last nudge. And then Variks' arms were loosening and he was drawing away.
Her mind a haze, Meren barely had a chance to register what was happening; all she knew was that she needed to stop it. Before she realized what she was doing, her fingers had clenched into his fur mantle, holding fast to halt his retreat.
"No, don't." The words tumbled out of her mouth, sounding distant and hollow. "Don't stop."
She heard Variks' breath catch in his throat, and he froze, bared maw mere inches from her neck. "Meren." He sounded utterly powerless as he uttered her name. Hesitance followed as he drew in an unsteady breath. "This is not-"
"I said," she cut in before he could talk sense into either of them, "don't. stop."
Exhaling slowly, Variks pulled back just enough to get a good look at her. Met her eyes with two of his. For an instant, he stared, saying nothing. Then, without another word, dove back in to take what she willingly offered.
It took everything in her power to stifle a whine as mandibles met flesh once again. More eager this time. Insistent, yet gentle. Then teeth - so many teeth - pricking, nipping their way over every exposed inch of sensitive skin.
In a singular instant, the Vanguard was all but forgotten, and Meren gave in. Letting his passion consume her, she arched her neck, encouraging him all the more. In return, Variks was happy to oblige, lavishing her with his affection as eager little nips peppered her shoulder, her neck, her jaw.
As sweet as it was to receive his affection, after a certain point, Meren became vaguely aware that she couldn't just stand there. She should do something; she should reciprocate. But how?
She wasn't quite sure, but mirroring his approach seemed a safe bet. So she waited until Variks came up for air and then brought her lips to the side of his neck. She kissed him, just once, before baring her own teeth, and then brought them to the soft flesh of his throat and bit down. Gently, at first, so as not to hurt him. Then gradually a little more firmly, enough to make her intent clear.
When Variks didn't immediately respond, Meren clenched her jaw a little tighter, fully expecting to get an indignant chitter or disgruntled growl out of him, but as her teeth sank deeper into his neck, what she got instead was a groan, deep and throaty and hungry.
The wanton sound sent a rush of warmth through her insides, starting in the center of her chest to radiate down to her belly. Still, she didn't let go, and Variks instinctively arched his neck, digging his fingers into her sides.
The points of his claws stung, but not in an unpleasant way. Just enough to slacken her jaw and set a burst of forbidden euphoria coursing through her veins. As the claws dug deeper still, her already-muddled mind, for an instant, went pleasantly blank. And then before she could think better of it (or think anything at all), she lunged back in and bit him again.
This time, Variks did growl.
From the depths of his chest came a deep rumble that crescendoed into something fierce, resonating through her frame, setting her heart to racing. Loosing her teeth from his neck, the rumble persisted still. Then all at once, his mechanical hands clamped down on her shoulders, claws clenching as he whirled her around, away from the door. His growl faded to an irritated-sounding chitter, then: a warning. Meant for her - or maybe for himself.
It was impossible to tell.
For a moment, he held her there, motionless, almost as if silently willing for her to change her mind - to wrench herself free from his grasp. Meren, however, did nothing of the sort, and instead, raised her chin to look up at him once more. Or tried to. Variks wouldn't exactly look at her, so she craned her neck sideways, trying to draw his gaze. It didn't quite work, but still she managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes, and when she did, in them she saw something wild.
Gone was the soft, gentle fondness - the carefully honed courtesy - the restraint. Replaced only by a smoldering intensity, the likes of which she'd never seen.
A shiver ran over her skin as he swiveled his head to look her full on. His eyes met hers, properly this time, burning bright as they bored so intently into hers.
Locked in that all consuming gaze, Meren's lips parted to release a silent breath. In response, Variks' eyes narrowed, his teeth clicking together in a chatter that all too quickly turned again to a growl. Then alien hands were shifting lower, giving her hips a forceful squeeze. And the next thing Meren knew, Variks surged forward, and then he was pressing her back towards the pod's far wall, hurried and hungry.
AN: All thanks to Keltoi for edits! Also, the chapter following this one will likely not be on FFN, due to site restrictions. If you want to have the opportunity to read it (eventually), follow along with Diplomatic Ties on AO3. Otherwise, I'll see you all for chapter 28!
