The knocking on the door was persistent.
It was midday, the fake sun of the Citadel was creeping through the blinds, making him squint. He fell asleep in his clothes, sprawled out on the couch.
What a shocker, Garrus thought idly, running a hand over his numb mandibles.
The first thing he felt was a headache, a dull throbbing at the base of his skull that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. Turians didn't really have a hangover due to their fast metabolism and dextro amino-acids in their bodies—a fact that had made his human friend completely livid, first with disbelief, then with envy. Garrus smiled at the thought, recalling the look on Vega's face when he'd explained it to him.
It was the cheap brandy, he decided, wincing as he tried to sit up. He shouldn't have mixed it with that dextro ale. Instead of upsetting his stomach, it went straight into his head, leaving him feeling like he'd been hit by a charging krogan.
The knocking was getting annoying.
Garrus wasn't expecting anyone, so his first instinct was to ignore the sodding sound. He tried to bury himself deeper into the cushions, hoping whoever it was would go away. A couple of minutes into his plan, he realized it was clearly not working. The sound only grew louder and more insistent. With a groan, he finally conceded defeat and stood up clumsily.
As he got closer to the door, he caught a whiff of a familiar scent. It was a subtle perfume, one he knew too well. He paused, wondering what she wanted.
With a deep breath, the turian steeled himself and opened the door.
Liara was standing in the hall, grinning in a way only an asari could.
"Morning, neighbor," she chirped and let herself into his apartment before he could answer. Her light steps echoed through the room as she made her way to the living space, feeling herself right at home.
"It's midday," he grumbled, closing the door.
She smirked, "Not for you, apparently." Her words were laced with a mixture of amusement and concern, a tone he had grown accustomed to over the time of their... arrangement.
He couldn't fool her. The smell of booze and the sight of a grumpy turian was all she needed to see through the events of his night. She had known him long enough, and despite his best efforts, Garrus found himself unable to hide the truth from her.
"Had fun last night?" she asked nonchalantly, making herself comfortable on one of his kitchen stools. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes held a depth of understanding that only came from multiple meldings of minds.
"Sort of," Garrus answered, wondering how to get rid of her. "Had a couple of drinks with a friend."
"You don't have friends," she mused, looking at him with her sly asari eyes.
Whatever Liara wanted, he just wasn't in the mood for it. He stood in the hallway, looking at her in silence, waiting to hear what it was she came for. Asari ruses were not good for turian headaches.
She felt his impatience. The smile crept off Liara's blue lips, as her face twitched in a frown. A sort of a sore frown that only her species could pull off.
"I thought we had an appointment last night," she finally said.
Garrus closed his eyes, feeling like a complete asshole. He totally forgot.
"Fuck," was all he could say.
She accepted his curse and guilt in his eyes for an apology that it was and slipped back into her usual cheerful expression.
"Still up for it?" she asked.
Was he? Garrus wasn't sure.
They would hook up from time to time, whenever he was on the Citadel. But only when he truly needed it—when the stress of his duties was too overpowering, threatening to cloud his judgment and hinder his performance.
A good turian understands that maintaining their effectiveness requires a balance between duty and personal well-being. They recognize the importance of addressing their basic urges in a controlled and disciplined manner. By finding appropriate outlets, they ensure that their mind remains sharp and their body healthy, preventing distractions that could compromise their performance.
Like any other turian, Garrus had a fair share of urges. And that's when he would go to Liara, seeking a momentary reprieve from all the pressure.
Sex was a very casual thing for turians as a species. Both males and females used it as a main instrument of stress relief, much needed in their militaristic society. Due to specific nature of their biology, sexual release helped turians maintain a healthy balance of hormones and neurotransmitters. It was encouraged and actively promoted by the Hierarchy to keep their people in peak condition, both on and off the battlefield.
Apex predators by nature, turians were driven by basic instincts since the dawn of time. In the course of societal and technological progression, that primal part of their psyche got suppressed, but was never truly gone, and would manifest though the two primary urges—fighting and fucking.
The act of mating was a vicious process that would resemble a fight to a casual observer of any other species. The mating ritual was a raw display of power and control, where one partner was asserting their dominance over another who, in turn, would submit fully, acknowledging their mate's superiority and strength.
Other species were well aware of turian ferocity in battle and intensity of mating rituals. Turian bodies were built to withstand the stress of both, with thick plates and strong muscles that could endure the roughest of encounters.
The bite marks they left on one another served as a symbol of their prowess and dedication, a physical reminder of the passion that burned between them. In turian society, these marks were not just a sign of affection, but a display of status and commitment. They showed the world that a turian had found a mate who could match their strength and ferity, and that they were willing to fight for that connection.
Needless to say, turians were never the first choice for cross-species liaisons. The asari, with their exotic nature and unique mating practices, were the most common sexual preference for other races. It was never about the physical contact with mono-gender creatures—but melding minds and experiences. And this was one of the main reasons why asari-turian pairings rarely lasted. Turians were physical beings, craving the intensity of touch and the thrill of the chase. Cuddling was never their strong suit, and the concept of lovemaking was practically nonexistent in their language. Instead, they preferred the raw passion of hard, fast, and vicious intercourse, seeking to satisfy their primal desires in a way that only their kind could truly understand.
Garrus, however, was not interested in procuring himself a mate, despite being approached by his turian peers and subordinates. He had no marks, no signs of mating. He was unclaimed and thus seemingly available. A good prospect indeed, and high up in the tier. Yet every time, his fellow turians were left disappointed by his rejection.
He did try, though. Feeling the need to return to the mating scene, recalling his younger days, when he would take to his bed anything remotely willing. However, each attempt proved more disheartening than the last, leaving him feeling hollow and guilty. The truth was, he couldn't engage in proper mating while his emotions were in such turmoil, failing miserably to banish her from his thoughts.
And so he avoided all those interested, with their faint efforts and implicit intentions, by coming up with excuses and ruses, knowing that he would not escape another, more serious problem—his checkups.
Ever since being promoted to high command, he had to undergo mandatory monthly examination in accordance with the Hierarchy Guidelines on high-ranking officers' well-being. And it was during one of those routine sessions that he realized the occasional jerk-off would not cut it anymore. He could fool his fellow turians, he could even fool himself, but he could never fool his biology.
"Your hormone levels are concerning. I have to ask… have you been mating properly?" the doctor began carefully. "You are aware of the consequences of prolonged withholding? Is it a self-imposed restriction? Or is your libido gone and we should we be investigating the underlying factors?"
It was one of those uncomfortable conversations Garrus decided to never have again. He flushed immediately, glad the high collar on his jacket could hide the heat that spread in the back of his neck. He had gotten off a few times just before the appointment, but his attempts had clearly fallen short. His thoughts had been with her of course, always with her. The memory of her scent, her taste, the feel of her so tight around him... But medical scans didn't lie—it wasn't enough anymore.
She was his underlying factor. His body burned with need. But Garrus knew with bitter certainty that only she could truly satisfy that ache.
The solution presented itself in the form and shape of an asari that lived in an apartment next door. Liara was nice enough, though somewhat inexperienced. She was only one-hundred-and-eight years old, still in her maiden stage, always marked by the desire to explore new things. Like most young asari, she was curious and restless. She had come to the Citadel about a decade ago to join the galactic community.
Garrus knew that he was her first turian, but she could keep it casual, didn't ask too many questions, and respected the clear boundaries he had set.
Their encounters were brief and infrequent but served their purpose. He could feel the tension in his body ease with every melding. Liara was gentle and attentive, always making sure he was comfortable and enjoying himself. Sweet pup. It wasn't the same as being with her, but it was enough to keep his drive in check.
"This is not the best time," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Had too much to drink…"
"You know that's actually a good thing, right? It's better when you are more relaxed."
She was resolved. Garrus could see that Liara wanted a melding, but he still hesitated.
He had spent the night thinking about her until he drank himself to sleep. He didn't want his neighbor to pick up on it. So far, the turian had been doing a pretty good job of hiding his deepest thoughts and feelings from the asari. He never let her dive too far, allowing to only touch the surface of his mind, scratching that itch for him whenever it became unbearable.
It was a delicate balance, and Garrus knew it couldn't last forever. Eventually, Liara would sense something amiss, and it would end. But for now, he was content with their arrangement. It served its purpose, and that was all that mattered.
"Kind of in a middle of a nasty headache right now."
Another excuse, but also true.
"I can help with that," she said enticingly.
That's when he knew there's no way out of this one. He should just let her get what she wanted, take what he needed, and be done with it.
Sensing his capitulation, she jumped off the stool and led him to the couch in the living area. Liara pressed her blue hands at his chest, motioning him to sit down and Garrus complied. She took a look at him from her standing position, then, satisfied with what she saw, sat down on his lap.
"Let's see what we can do about that headache," she hummed at him in that entrancing voice of hers.
Garrus closed his eyes. A cool asari hand touched the turian's crested forehead, and a warm soothing sensation quickly found its way inside of him.
Her approach to melding their minds was always non-intrusive, unlike some of the asari he had tried before. The warmth spread from his chest and up to his head, to where the pain was concentrated. He made a deep breath and let her take the pain away.
They had melded so many times, it was such an easy transition now, from her to him. Fast, efficient. Exactly what he needed.
As she dealt with his headache, she shifted in his lap, preparing to meld properly. Garrus loosened his pants for easier access. She drew in closer, but not close enough, leaving space for his hand between them.
Like most asari, Liara didn't let him touch her.
"Not with those claws", she would joke.
He didn't mind. He actually preferred it.
This was another reason the asari were just perfect for him. He had realized he just couldn't touch anyone else in an intimate way.
So unlike an actual physical act of mating between turians, asari's melding was just a mind game for him, a simple trick he would play on his instinct-driven body to release the excess stress and make himself functional again. Make him go on about his life, a life without her.
Liara never asked, and he was grateful. She never pried, never stuck her nose into those places where she could stumble across her. He wanted those memories locked, impenetrable. They were only for him. For moments when it was all too much to bear, when he would allow himself to remember her, and those gentle violet eyes. He didn't want them to be used for a brief moment of pleasure and a cheap cumshot on his chest, as he looked into black asari eyes.
And so, they continued their arrangement, each giving the other what they needed without crossing the line. Garrus found solace in the familiarity of their routine, the comfort of Liara's presence while avoiding the threat of unearthing the pain of his past.
He felt the asari's gentle touch on his chin, a signal that she was ready for the proper melding to begin. He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, which had turned completely dark, just as they always did when she was about to initiate a merge. As their gazes locked, Garrus once again looked through a window into a world he could never fully understand.
He found himself lost in the depths of Liara's mind, a vast expanse of knowledge and experiences. Despite the familiarity of the moment, his heart raced as her mental presence washed over him. He felt the warmth of her thoughts, the gentle probing of her mind. The sensation was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of the intimacy they shared and the secrets they kept from one another.
As the meld progressed, Garrus focused on maintaining his mental defenses, keeping the painful images locked away. He knew that Liara meant no harm, but the thought of her unearthing the hurt he had worked so hard to bury was more than he could bear.
Then she took him deeper still.
"Embrace eternity!" Liara commanded, and he immediately did, allowing himself to be led by her eyes into a realm where thought and emotion were tangible, where sensation was all there was to feel—limitless and boundless.
The pleasure centers of his brain ignited, sending warm waves down the chest and into his groin. The pelvic plates shifted, and he emerged from them, aching for a touch of the many-fingered human hand he knew wasn't there. The memories came unbidden, flooding his senses with everything he tried to suppress. He wanted to push them aside, back into the vaults of his mind, but it was a battle he could not win.
And suddenly, there she was, as real as the day she'd last touched him, all soft curves and gentle smiles, body radiating that peculiar human warmth that had always fascinated him. Her violet eyes sparkled with mischief and desire. She was perched on his lap wearing nothing but that flimsy human top on her breasts that had driven him mad with curiosity ever since that perfect sunny day.
Her fingers splayed across his chest, each point of contact sending sparks through his plates. She traced the grooves between them with deliberate slowness, learning his body all over again. His muscles contracted beneath her touch as she explored lower, mapping the dips of his toned stomach.
She watched him with that intense gaze of hers, pupils slightly dilated. Her scent changed, becoming something primal and wanting—the scent of her arousal. It hit him like a shot of heavy stims, triggering every predatory instinct he possessed.
Mine!
Vaguely, he knew this wasn't real, but the image of her was so vivid, so perfect in every detail, that he let himself believe... Believe it was her hands that found his aching cock. The touch was tentative at first, growing bolder as she learned his reactions.
She was perfect… The way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the slight furrow in her brow fur as she focused on pleasuring him… the way her violet was locked on his blue—she didn't look down, she never had.
Her breath came in short, heated gasps that matched his own, her chest rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm as she was moving her hands on his length. She leaned in closer, soft lips parting slightly as she pressed them against his mouth. The kiss was deep and hungry, carrying all the passion they'd never properly expressed. Her tongue darted out to taste him, and the sound she made—somewhere between a whimper and a moan—sent a jolt of electricity down his spine.
She was stroking him faster now, more urgently, as if she could sense his approaching release. Each movement brought him closer to the edge, her touch both heaven and torture. He wanted to lose himself in this moment forever, to pretend that the warmth surrounding his throbbing cock belonged to her hands and not his own.
Their breaths mingled, her soft pants against his mandibles driving him wild. Her scent grew stronger, headier, filling his lungs with every desperate intake. She whispered his name—Spirits, how he'd missed the way she said it—and that was his undoing. His release was loud and violent, almost painful, hot seed coating his chest and stomach in one intense burst of cum.
As the pleasure began to fade, reality came crashing back. He caught a glimpse of black eyes instead of violet, and his heart shattered into million pieces. The realization of what he'd allowed to happen hit him like a mass acceleration round. The crushing weight of loss and heartache multiplied tenfold, carving fresh wounds into old scars, leaving him drowning in a darkness he thought he'd learned to keep at bay. He tried to swallow the acid rising in his throat as Liara shifted her weight on his lap, reminding him of where—and with whom—he really was. The asari's presence suddenly felt wrong, perverse, alien in a way that made him want to claw at his own plates. At least their melding was already over, and she hadn't sensed the depth of his devastation. Keeping his mandibles tight against his face to hide the tremors of revulsion, he focused instead on steadying his breathing and regaining control.
The last shreds of sensation died down and vanished as soon as the asari closed her eyes. The moment she opened them again, they were her usual brilliant blue, much like his own, but brighter and full of life. Liara exhaled, still feeling the remnants of his pleasure and what he had shared with her.
She seemed satisfied, but there was a hint of unease in her expression. She gave him a strange, hesitant look, as if wrestling with a conflicting thought.
"It was intense," she breathed out. "Even though you resisted more than usual."
He let out an inarticulate grunt, trying hide his inner discomfort.
"Whoever she was, she did a number on you."
Garrus blinked, eyes widening in surprise. Her words felt like a sucker punch to his gut. It was the first time Liara ever mentioned her. Had she felt something? Had she known all this time?
He stared at her with a mixture of hurt, anger, and resignation, but it was the bitterness that finally prevailed. It cut through him like a blade, sharp and unyielding, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn't experienced in a while. He felt violated in some way, even though he knew it wasn't fair. He was the one keeping secrets, after all. But still, the thought that Liara might have known about her and said nothing left a sour taste in his mouth.
Garrus took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts, but it was no use. As he looked at her, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were over, that whatever they had shared was forever tainted by this revelation.
Liara didn't say anything else, just sat on his lap looking at him with a kind of sadness that only deepened the wound. He could see the concern in her, the regret that she had brought this up, but it did nothing to soothe the anger that simmered beneath the surface.
"You need to go," he said sharply as he moved her off his knees, rougher than he should have. He felt the heat rising up his spine, the frustration boiling over as he stood up abruptly.
"Garrus—" Liara's voice was soft, almost pleading, but it only made the anger flare brighter, scorching his insides.
"Don't!" he snapped, making her recoil. The sharpness of his tone cut through the room like a whip, and he instantly regretted it, but the guilt only fueled his inability to face her.
He walked into the bathroom to clean himself up, needing the space to think, to breathe. The cold water splashed against his face, but did little to cool the fire inside.
Why decide to say it now? It had been so perfect until she did. Just what he needed… Damn. Way to ruin everything.
Her voice came from behind, "I'm sorry."
He was standing in front of the sink, cleaning his stomach and chest plates. "I know you are," he answered, voice hollow.
"I never said anything, because I know you didn't want to hear it. But you are hurting, Garrus. More than you know. It goes so deep, so deep down. I don't want to make it worse…"
Her voice was soft, filled with a genuine concern that only made him feel more distant.
He understood that Liara meant well, but her earnest, almost naive attempts to comfort him grated against the raw edges of his emotions. There was nothing she could say that he hadn't already told himself a thousand times. She was just a pup by her own species' measures—how could she claim to understand?
Worse still was the sting of betrayal he couldn't quite shake—though the shame that followed was even harder to bear. She only wanted to help, he reminded himself, but how could someone so inexperienced in the ways of the universe possibly fathom the depths of his pain? His chest tightened at the thought, the bitterness rising again.
Please go away, he thought. The words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to say them out loud.
"I know…" he uttered instead, voice barely above a whisper.
"We cannot do this again. I don't want to feel it. I know it's selfish…" Her words trailed off, but he could hear the hesitation in her voice, the uncertainty that matched his own.
"Not at all. You are right, I'm hurting. And I don't want to hurt you in the process." He told her what she needed to hear to make her leave.
Liara looked distraught. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just… I care about you, Garrus. I don't want to see you in pain."
He finally turned to face her. "I appreciate it, Liara. But apparently it's not working for me."
She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I understand. I'm sorry for doing it like this."
He gave her a small smile, though it felt forced. "It's not your fault. I should have been more honest with you from the start."
She returned the smile, her own was tinged with sadness. "Maybe. But I still would have wanted to help."
Garrus sighed, running a hand over his fringe. "I know. And I'm grateful for that. But it's time for me to find a way to deal with this on my own terms."
She came closer, her hand reaching out as if to touch him, but she stopped short, fingers hovering in the air. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Garrus. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."
He nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thank you."
They shared a brief, awkward hug, the contact not at all comforting, and then Liara was gone, leaving Garrus alone in his apartment, face to face with his thoughts and memories. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to process everything that had just happened.
Spirits, what was he going to do now?