gross xeno fuckathon post

[hypotheses]

♥ hey how u doin lil mama

lemme whisper in ur ear ♥

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GARRUS + THANE » arielverse

[hypotheses]

( in which there's a threesome for no reason. )

[ problem. no, two problems. first: mordin is now positive that ariel officials are monitoring their—activities via chip. no other explanation for apparently deeming the Mystery Package Weekend That No One Wants To Talk About a resounding success. enough success that, problem two: normandy crew has increasingly been targeted with various aphrodisiac chemicals in the last several weeks. at this point, mordin is sure it cannot be just him. entire house on edge, agitated, hungry.

mordin is not an exception, no. in fact, he suspects at times that the misfortune befalling the crew could be collateral damage wrought from an invisible campaign to drug him into compliance. he hates it, finds it asinine and ethically twisted, but he hates the idea of reeducation much more. unfortunately, his pride keeps him holding out each time until he's hanging on by a thread, a brilliant mind reduced to rubble, consumed by thoughts of fucking. of biological imperative, endorphins, hormones, misuse of orifices, stretch and pound and wet.

he'd probably slap himself if he thought it would do any good. it won't, though. he knows what will.

he's grateful garrus and thane are housed separately. he doesn't bother to knock. he feels like he's being burned from the inside out and there's really no time left for tact. ]

Garrus. You offered. Need your help. Now.

[ but garrus isn't alone, of course. ]

[forgivetheinsubordination]

[Garrus is mid-groan, mid-thrust, even, as the door is shoved open. His first thought is relief that it's not Wrex. He'd never hear the end of it. But then his brain fires a spark or two and his initial embarrassment - he's naked with his partner pushed against a table, after all - transforms into something a bit more complex. Need. If there's need... it's the chip. And he had offered, had meant it, and Garrus gets the beginnings of a handle on himself as he pulls out, hand resting on Thane's lower back.]

Uh. Right. Yeah.

[Except Thane's here, and to leave him like this would be nothing short of horrible. He takes a breath, looking between his lover and the scientist and trying to figure out if the idea he's got forming is going to blow up in his face. Garrus looks at Thane, a little nervous.]

Do we... We can't...

[Can't leave an ally to the city. Can't risk Mordin's brain being messed with more. This is crew.]

[interitum]

[Thane had heard it all too, and knew he had been heard ... the collision of his body on the table, snap of plating against flesh and bone, the gutteral noises that had mingled with Garrus' broken voice. He should feel some semblence of shame, but he's still reeling a bit, left empty.

Then it dawns on him that someone--Mordin Solus, the voice had been immediately stark and obvious--is here, asking for help. Thane, too, is not one to turn his back on a comrade. He understands. Just as he understands the confusion in his loved one's face, caught between leaving their intimacy unbroken and helping a friend in need, trapped. Rising to his feet, Thane's muscles tense slightly at the lingering soreness that remains in him, a delicious sensation that leaves him still aching in other ways. He presses a reassuring kiss against Garrus' scarred mandible before turning his attention toward their impromptu guest.]

Dr. Solus.

[In spite of the odd situation, his tone is polite -- if a little more husky and breathier than normal.]

... We're here for you.

[Whether or not Garrus is right behind him, Thane approaches, still wholly bared and not letting any shame cloud his judgement.]

[hypotheses]

[ distressingly spontaneous under any other circumstance. mordin reminds himself that the sliver of his rational mind that wants to find this awkward is unneeded, technically—he and garrus have done this before. he and thane have done this before, supposedly, even if all he has to remember it by is a sheaf of sheepishly technical notes scribbled unmistakably in his hand.

garrus is all there, unplated fully and blushing deep blue, and it's a daunting reminder of the state he's in that mordin cannot consider his body with quite the same detached acceptance he is supposed to consider exposed bodies, even fully, impressively erect ones that promise a challenge verging deliciously on the edge of pain. and thane... all the observations tumble through mordin's skull just as he expects them to, all the various clinical signs of drell, male, state of heightened sexual arousal: darkening of frills, slightly fanned, scales reflecting the light (recent shed?); eversion and erection of penis, barbed, thick, glistening. cloacal opening undoubtedly wet with assistive lubricant. flushed and sore with abuse.

or not so clinical. mordin thinks he can feel heat prickling at his temples, probably touching the tip of his good horn with mossy green, and momentarily looks away. ]

...Ah. Offer appreciated, but— [ less a sniff than remembering suddenly to breathe. ] didn't mean to interrupt. Could return later.

[ he says, but he's actually taken a few steps closer. prolonged arousal becoming extremely detrimental to morale. uncomfortably aware of wetness between thighs. should probably be thankful he's not leaving a trail, to be crass.

he swallows. speaks unusually slowly. ]

Chance... could be out of my depth.

[forgivetheinsubordination]

[The laugh from Garrus isn't directed at Mordin, but at the doctor's words.]

You think you're out of your depth...

[Thane is gorgeous, standing there, clearly inviting Mordin to join them, with gleam of lube on the back of his thighs. Garrus could almost forget that someone else is here and push Thane against the wall to continue. Almost. This might wind up being a little awkward, but Garrus is turned on anyway, and he did offer help. If Solus is asking for it, then it's a need.

He swallows before taking a step forward as well, trying to ignore how exposed he is.]

You're here, Doc.

[Back in touching distance of Thane, Garrus can't resist trailing his fingers over his lover's hipbone. But now he's in range of Solus too. There's a beat before he slowly reaches up and traces his thumb along Mordin's remaining horn.]

Said there was a need.

[interitum]

[They're not the only ones -- though Thane doesn't comment as such. Mordin is someone for whom he holds a great deal of respect. He wants to treat him as such, not as some plaything that's just been dumped on their doorstep. Yet with the urgency in Mordin's voice upon initial arrival, it is likely that the renowned salarian doctor is hardly thinking anything that runs along the lines of being polite and respectable.

Which only fuels Thane, personally.

Lifting a hand and tracing it along that horn, his fingertips brush against Garrus' talons there before ghosting along Mordin's weathered face. His other hand slips past the doctor's labcoat, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. Thane is the only one out of the three of them whose body doesn't regulate its temperature on its own, impressionable blood and cells that still hold the heat from his partner's form.]

You haven't interrupted.

[There's deliberation to that choice of words: he hasn't interrupted, because they're not ceasing.]

i don't know what this is

[hypotheses]

[ mordin does not—does not—shiver at the twin touches. they hit him like dousing water on a fire. at first. salarians don't normally make the sound he makes at that moment, this throaty frustrated thing, neither purr nor growl but strangely rumbling regardless.

thane krios with his hand so close to the vulnerable dip where a human or asari sternum would be, or the sharp jut of a turian's carapace. thane krios, who could kill him right now so easily, pulverize his heart with a perfect blow. this shouldn't excite him as much as it does, nor should he be wondering if garrus is looking at these scars and stump of a horn with interest, but you don't spend your life studying the bodies and minds of other species without thinking of things like this eventually.

except, well, you do. if you're salarian. just not now.

mordin laughs, a clipped, high sound that may be tinged with just the slightest amount of hysteria. he feels drugged. he is drugged. so are they. probably. ]

Yes. Need, need, yes. [ he breathes again, sharp through his nose. ] Apologies. Never would've predicted this turn of events before Ariel. Refreshing to be surprised for once, actually. Don't need to inquire how you were faring before this; course of events obvious—logical use of positioning, practical! Developed resistance to Thane, toxin? Hm, feasible with repeated gradual exposure. Could have opposite effect as well; enhanced immune response, allergy, more articulated symptoms? Not sure, would have to test. Longitudinal study? Knowingly exposing subjects to drell venom possibly difficult to navigate but informed consent... tricky—

[ yo he is straight up babbling at this point, all right. he's also started fidgeting under their touch and, ultimately, begins pointedly considering the sheen of moisture over the end of thane's dick. his heart is hammering under thane's hand, intact horn a peculiar bruise-green under garrus's.

there is so much penis really close to him. ]

What, are you asking us?

[forgivetheinsubordination]

[Despite the situation, Garrus chuckles again before gently placing a finger over Mordin's lips in a universal 'shhhh' gesture.]

Easy, Doc. Easy. And I'd prefer it if you don't start lining people up to expose to Thane, yeah?

[Obviously it's Thane's choice, but Garrus would really, really prefer other people be used for the sake of safety instead of a regular, observed experiment. Then again, this isn't the time, really.

Slowly Garrus trails the tips of his talons down that horn and along the side of Solus' face. Then both hands drop to underneath the salarian's chin, tilting it up so Garrus can kiss him. It seems to do things for most people, might as well try it now. This also means that he's shifting closer to Mordin, hip-spur coming in contact with Mordin's side.

A moment later one hand leaves Mordin to blindly search for Thane, finding the drell's underbelly. Garrus traces his talons over that, too, before gliding careful fingertips along the slick, hard shaft.]

Shepard

[ctrl_synth_del]

[At the end of the day, she still doesn't know what Cerberus' angle really is. All Shepard knows is that she can't trust them. She stares at her face in the mirror of her quarters, listening to a report from Garrus about the newest variety bugs he'd found on the ship, looking at the scars are quickly losing their glow, and realizes she doesn't know enough about what's been done to her. There could be all sorts of... Shepard doesn't even know, but she remembers every Cerberus base they took out on the first Normandy.

But how does she even start to figure it out? Karen's onboard, and a good friend, but sometimes Shepard wonders if she'd pad the truth out of that same friendship. Not only that, but Chakwas is working with Cerberus tech. The other doctor on board brought his own equipment, and Shepard really can't see him misleading someone to be comforting. That's that, then.

Decision made, Shepard heads down to Dr. Solus' lab. Not like it had been a difficult decision, either. She likes the salarian's company, even if she sometimes wonders if he pauses for breath enough.]

Hey. Are you busy?

[hypotheses]

[ mordin turns, having just placed his coffee cup in some sort of full-body scanner. that's what it looks like, anyway, though he's probably just reheating whatever's in there. probably. he visibly brightens at the sight of her—a sure sign that he's not too busy to talk.

doctor chakwas can't be blamed if she's in no position to handle more patients, anyhow. she's been through a great deal lately—they all have. surviving a suicide mission is unprecedented, after all, to say nothing of the numerous injuries the entire squad has sustained in the bargain.

and now, the normandy and its crew have officially gone rogue. until they return to alliance space or call in a few favors from aria, the resources they have are the resources they get.

mordin's actually quite chipper, given the circumstances, if a little bored. glad to still be alive, mostly. amusing himself with the shipwide cerberus bug scavenger hunt at present. ]

Ah, Shepard! Not busy at all; just exposing remaining surveillance devices discovered in lab to high levels of elecromagnetism.

[ a gesture to the cup. not coffee at all, apparently. ]

Unrecoverable this way. Wanted to be sure. [ he breathes. just for her. ] How can I help?

[ctrl_synth_del]

I wasn't going to ask.

[Honestly, with a scientist like Mordin, Shepard wouldn't have been too surprised if he had accidentally stuck a cup of coffee in one of his machines. Or many. She could easily overlook a few eccentricities for what he brought to the table.]

It was something similar I wanted to talk to you about. We don't know what all Cerberus has put in the systems of my ship. We also don't know what all they've put in my systems.

[She raises a hand.]

I know, I could ask Miranda. But I've gotten a lot of runaround from her on the topic already, and I'd prefer answers from someone who isn't so directly paid by the Illusive man.

[They're all in his employ. But Shepard knows none of the non-humans on the ship are here for Cerberus' sake. Miranda's definitely been earning Shepard's trust, Shepard is glad to have her on board, but this is still something she's not sure she'd get all the details on. And despite the difference of their opinions on the genophage, Shepard trusts herself in Solus' hands. So here she is.

And here she is appreciating that he's taking the effort to breathe. There may be a small-yet-growing betting pool on whether or not Mordin will ever talk so much he ever passes out. She tried to discourage it. But she can't deny the amusement the thought brings, or the likelihood of Samara being the winner.]

If it wouldn't interrupt your other projects, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind seeing if you could find anything... off.

[Because poking around a living person who had been dead is entirely normal.]

Odd, more irregular than you think it should be.

[hypotheses]

Not a problem. Understandable concern; consider possibility of devices, bugs planted without knowledge of anyone aboard ship. Keep finding them elsewhere. Miranda [ sniff. ] unaware. No reason to deceive at this point. Probable that Illusive Man took extra precautions.

[ He pauses in his various millings around to really look at Shepard, as if he were capable of scanning her with his eyes alone. ]

Happy to help. Still—should clarify, for sake of propriety: how... thorough?

[ctrl_synth_del]

[That's the question, isn't it. Except it's not that hard. What she needs is rather clear.]

Completely. If they've got anything extraneous in me, watching me, I need to know. And I need it removed if it's physically possible.

[He's beyond competent. Shepard has no doubt that if something's amiss, Mordin can find and fix it. There's also something about his hands and his eyes... and Shepard clamps down on that thought. There is a clear, legitimate reason she's speaking with him instead of Chakwas, and it's not simply because she finds Mordin appealing. He is, though. Professional, capable, handy with a pitchfork of all things, brilliant - he's everything Shepard looks for and more and it's been some time. That being thought, he's still a member of her crew and she's here as a patient. The last thing she wants to do is alienate someone she respects.]

Is now a good time?

[Because she can keep a hold of herself, and now is a rare free moment without the Illusive Man pestering her or Hackett wondering if she could check something out for him.]

Frankly, the sooner I get everything checked out, the better. I should know what's going on under my own hood.

[hypotheses]

[ Mordin does a really good job not raising a brow, since he's a doctor and not raising a brow at things is an important professional skill. There's no conflict here that he can think of, however—his gentle rejection of what he'd apparently misinterpreted as her sexual interest in him had been met with amused acceptance at the time—and Karin has her hands more than full and it's likely Shepard knows it. Never mind that he hasn't actually examined a human so intimately since his residency. But salarians don't forget.

There is a very brief moment where he contemplates asking whether she'd be more comfortable doing this in her quarters instead of the lab, but he dismisses it just as quickly. Needless suggestion. Also somewhat inappropriate. Not sure why he even thought of it. ]

Now as good a time as any. EDI, some privacy, please?

[ Certainly, Doctor Solus, the room reverberates in reply, followed by the soft electronic chirp of the locks shifting from green to red. ]

Need to prepare. Strip to undergarments, if you would.

[ She's a soldier. They're aliens to one another. There's no cause for hesitation; this is protocol.

He steps over to the smaller exam table opposite the one he seems to live behind and pulls it back from the wall so he's capable of approaching from all angles, the swift glow of a decontamination grid sweeping over its surface. Not that he thinks Shepard is at all prone to shyness, but turning his back is simply a matter of courtesy. He busies himself longer than he would normally with adjusting instruments, pulling equipment out of the way (at the foot of the table, a hint of what's ahead), mostly for her benefit. After a moment, he speaks again: ]

Truthfully, was tempted to suggest something similar. Have found numerous Cerberus devices aboard ship undetectable through scanning. Have been working on developing targeted scan, but no luck so far. Tech unfamiliar, highly advanced. Not unlike Collectors'. Implications... [ a breath. ] unsettling.

[ Finally he straightens, not looking over, but he tilts his head toward her enough that his good horn curves in her direction. ]

Ready for you. Take a seat?

[ctrl_synth_del]

[She's stripped down in front of any number of soldiers and doctors, mechanical every time because the situation required changing or less clothing. It's no different now. Scans aren't picking everything up, which means they need to try a new approach just in case.

Her clothing gets pulled off and folded precisely off to the side just the way her bed gets made precisely every morning. What all Cerberus has done to her body is still an unknown, but Shepard knows herself and her habits. Though normally her habits don't have business edging this close to pleasure. Mordin is a professional. She can be just as professional. After all, he'd already turned her down. The question of how his skin would feel against hers is entirely inappropriate... and lingering despite that.]

They built the ship and consider it an investment, same with me. It follows that they'd want to keep track of as much as they can.

[She walks over and takes a seat, giving him a smile.]

So let's thwart them whenever possible.

[And she knows full well that it's a cause every non-human and several of the humans on board this ship can get behind. The Collectors need to be dealt with, but on her terms. Cerberus shouldn't profit here. She has no objections to her team profiting, though, and maybe whatever tech they've got in her could give Mordin something else to fiddle with as well. That thought widens the smile.]

If you're sure you're ready for me. A few people have said that before.

[She's fond of him, and she teases the people she's fond of.]

[hypotheses]

[ If wanted to try human...

Well. To say he doesn't is a mild falsehood, but technically it has nothing to do with humans themselves. There is no xenophilic curiosity here, to speak of. On Mordin's end, at least. He has his suspicions about Shepard, who has always seemed a little too fascinated with the other Council races. It's true that human females differ little from asari, though more variable in shape—features small but elegant, bodies a collection of gently sloping curves, skin a little softer, a little warmer, fuzzed all over with a fine dusting of tiny hairs.

And it's true that Mordin has been... amenable to the advances of asari in the past. Humans themselves (the females, mostly, according to Mordin's subjective assessment) are aesthetically pleasing, on occasion. But that isn't it, either. Shepard lacks the limber grace of most asari, the vivid colors, the familiar smoothness. But she has something. Something that amounts to more than difference in species, even though he's fairly certain that she would be considered quite attractive by human standards.

He couldn't bring himself to respond to what he thought were her advances before. Too great a risk of interfering with mission. Shepard herself a less known quantity at the time. Too old. At this point in his life, ill-equipped for... complication.

But so, if he's honest with himself, he's not particularly interested in trying human, no. But he might be interested in trying Shepard. ]

Yes, yes. Sure you made short work of them.

[ It's a somewhat dismissive deflection of what he thinks might be flirtation on her part, but he isn't sure, so he chooses not to make assumptions. Humor often a tool to ease discomfort when feeling inordinately exposed. Also, he can feel himself settling into a comfortable frame of mind: the doctor, the scientist, eager to discover and solve.

He considers her there in her bra and underwear, fingers on chin (which are bare now, long and thin and dusky orange as the rest of him), his attention giving no more weight to her breasts or hips than it would her elbow. ]

Think it best to start with examination for subdermal implant, focus inward from there.

[ You know, like he's not talking about poking around her most intimate of areas. He steps around behind her, still studying her, visibly thinking the whole way along. ]

Lean forward? Primary concern base of skull, along vertebral column. Biotech most likely to be placed there; leech power from body's own electrical impulses.

[ It is with pleasant dispassion that he brushes the hair off her nape. With that done he can begin his work, fingers warmer than a human's settling high past her hairline and sliding down toward her C7 vertebra in a series of slow scanning stripes across the width of her neck. ]

[ctrl_synth_del]

[And there's the Mordin that she knows all too well, clearing a side-topic from the discussion to get right to the point of matters. She's smiling more now, relaxed despite the way he's looking over her. Shepard knows what he sees. A puzzle, something to solve.

It would make things easier if she could look at it so clearly. If she were to focus, she probably could. But it's been a long time since she's indulged herself in anything close to fantasy. There isn't harm in enjoying his touch. It's medically necessary. Tactically, pragmatically. She didn't come here to indulge herself but to make them safer from Cerberus.

And so, as his warm, so-long fingers move her hair and start to touch, Shepard feels a little warmer herself.]

That makes sense. It'd be harder to detect something next to other hardware.

[And the last thing most people would be surprised by was something special about her biotic implant, seeing as Cerberus liked to experiment.]

And putting something along the spinal column might make it harder to remove.

[Distancing herself from the situation helps. His fingers are gentle and she knows how much experience he has with bodies and the way they work. He would have to be a masterful lover, and now she's no longer as distanced as she'd been trying for. Maybe it would be better if he was less gentle, but that thought's dismissed fairly quickly. He wouldn't be him, then, and she wouldn't have this struggle in the first place.

Her fingers drum on her thighs as she tries not to think about 'inward' and what is coming. Even if he finds something in her neck that doesn't preclude the possibility of other devices. Realizing what she's doing, Shepard stills her hands. If at any point he seems uncomfortable, she'll call this off. He's completely capable of doing so too, but she doesn't want to push. He has no interest here. He's said as much. She won't cross that line.]

Too bad sticking me in that thing would probably fry it and me both.

[She indicates the device he'd stuck the coffee cup in. That would have made this a lot simpler for him.]

But I prefer not to fry, and any good scientist wouldn't want their equipment damaged, so that's off the table.

[hypotheses]

[ Carefully, gradually, his touch travels down the length of her spine until it's interrupted by the band of her bra. His free hand rises abortively, ready to settle on her shoulder for support as he dips under the material, laser-focused in his search for any perturbation in her skin. She has her share of scars, of course—because who among them doesn't?—but for obvious reasons Mordin knows to pay them no mind. He glances up at the gesture and then returns to his task, leaning down to assist his study of her lower back. It's the same exploratory pressure the whole way down and in truth it's not at all unpleasant. But then it wasn't meant to be.

At her last statement, he smiles a little while dragging his thumb over the knobs of her vertebrae—careful presses into the muscles surrounding strong bone. ]

Should be kinder to yourself, Shepard. Much more than equipment.

[ It comes out as every other tease of his does, caught in the uncertain space between jibe and sincerity. It's just that there's something knowing in it; a verbal twinkle in his eye. ]

[ctrl_synth_del]

[Some captains and commanders preferred a clear line between themselves and their crew. They led most effectively with a divide. That wasn't Shepard's style. She preferred her crew to feel free to joke back, to see her as a person as well as their leader. They're experts at what they do, they follow her... and they become her friends. His comment is touching, even with the joke in there.]

I'm a good shot, too. That adds to my value.

[There's good humor in her voice even as she bends further forward as if that would help him as his fingers go ever lower. What comes after her spine? Ribs, because the heart gives off electromagnetic signals too? All the way around?]

Just don't ask me to join you in a duet. Harmony isn't my thing.

[After a short pause and a self-depreciating chuckle, Shepard continues:]

That's probably the one thing the Council would agree with me on.

[hypotheses]

You tend to favor doing what's necessary. No time for platitudes; waste of energy. Enjoyed time under Kirrahe, but—appreciate your leadership style. Remove bra, please? Less concern over process, more for results. Surprisingly efficient, for human.

[ That last bit, too, is a little jab. ]

Glad to report no evidence of foreign tech linked to nervous system, as far as can tell. Next most likely site somewhere beneath epidermis near subcutaneous fatty tissue. [ A breath. ] Essentially entire body. Large amount of ground to cover, could have been implanted anywhere. Will have to bear with me for a while.

[ Half a second of consideration. ]

Easiest if reclining.

[ctrl_synth_del]

Large amount of ground to cover.

[Her voice is very, very wry. She knows what Mordin means but pulling that phrase out helps ground her as she takes her bra off. The air is a little chilly, causing her nipples to harden more.]

I'll try not to take that personally. As a human.

[Shepard lies down, trying not to breathe too deeply. He'd asked for the garment to be removed while talking about Kirrahe and leadership styles. There's not interest there.

She hesitates for a moment with her legs, leaving them bent at first after she swings them on to the table, before stretching them out. Relaxing never comes naturally to her. If she gets them on a safe topic it could be easier.]

So what's serving under Kirrahe like?

[hypotheses]

[ The complaint earns her a wry grin as he takes her arm gently by the wrist and elbow, straightening it enough to study her hand by sight and touch, exploring her palm, between each of her many fingers. It's probably not necessary; she's no doubt perfectly aware of what is and isn't normal when it comes to her own hands, but... well, she did say she wanted no stone left unturned. Far be it for Mordin to argue. Before long he's at her forearm, tracing a broad stroke up the vein that culminates at the inside of her elbow, other hand still gently supporting her at the wrist. Her own orders: by the end of this there'll be no part of her left that he hasn't touched. ]

Exhilarating. Challenges, risks, rewards. Occasionally tumultuous. Argued constantly. [ His tone is unmistakably fond. ] Both stubborn. Didn't know how to stop. Someone always—had to be right. Often was right. Usually me.

[ Winding his way up to her shoulder maybe takes him a little longer than it would for a human doing the same things. Salarian hands are different, their palms smaller, their fingers thinner and fewer. But Mordin's are both nimble and thorough, and their slow climb to her shoulder arrives after a while, touch skating soft from her trapezius muscle to the side of her neck down to her collarbone. He can't help but admire the way her frame is at once relatively small and unmistakably powerful. Marvels that Cerberus supposedly rebuilt her exactly as she was.

He can feel her tension. Understandable, of course. He knows exactly why they're talking and that it ought to continue. ]

Young for a captain. Liked to hear himself talk. At first chafed at the notion of taking orders from upstart idealist, but then grew... grudging respect. Still a cloaca.

[ A small pause. ]

Lift arm over head, if ready.

[ And Shepard's been a human woman long enough to know what's coming next. ]

[ctrl_synth_del]

[His hands feel good. It's a thought she shouldn't be having, but he's gentle and skilled and more attentive than any lover she's had. No matter the conversation, it's impossible to ignore what he's doing. Slowly, inevitably, his fingers move along her body. By the time Mordin gives the order, Shepard's breathing has sped up a little. His palms will be warm on her, she already knows it and Shepard has to take a deliberate mental step back as she lifts her arm.]

I'll definitely give you 'likes to hear himself talk.' That was quite the speech. I liked the whole theme he had going. It's something to try if I ever go for speechmaking.

[This is not how she pictured her day going this morning. It's far more pleasant, though more stressful. No one's shot at her even once.]

But there's a time and a place. Normally we've got too many people firing at us, but next time we have a nice, quiet break in the shooting I'll give it my best shot.

Omega AU

[forgivetheinsubordination]

[Garrus holds an arm to his side as he slipped through the corridors of the station. Omnigel took care of a lot, but he's pretty sure there's some deeper damage there. And, unfortunately, it's not like he's got Chakwas nearby to give him a hand. If she even made it off the ship.

He stops to push back a pain that's not related to stray gunfire. The ship's gone. A lot's gone. He's making what difference he can here. And speaking of here, there is a doctor he's heard about. Supposed to be good with xenobiology.

After several minutes, as the pain's spread and Garrus has had to pause to keep his head down near a few merc groups, he finds his way into the clinic and slowly sinks into a seat. Fuck, that hurts. Lucky shot. Had to happen sometime, because Archangel's not perfect, even with his team nearby. Unfortunately it had to happen the one time they had precise and different exit routes planned, so he's alone as the waiting room slips in and out of focus.]

[hypotheses]

[ When he was eleven and still in medical school, his concentration on xenobiology brought him numerous opportunities to practice: turian, asari, human. He's begun thinking of this as he works small, careful circles into the eminently soft tissue of her breast because he suddenly remembers how the first and last time he did this the patient unexpectedly loosed a ticklish giggle before clamping down in embarrassment, only to fight it a second time. Shepard's nipples are hard peaks atop the smooth swell of her flesh—from the temperature differential, most likely, surely—and he is conscientious about exploring every part she's made accessible but them. Too sensitive, too intimate. Unnecessary. Shepard's discomfort already understandable; important to make every effort to minimize it. ]

Everything normal. Other side now.

[ And he is all those things, that might be the worst part. Slow, diligent, and so very, very gentle. ]

Yes, good speech. Clearly Kirrahe in agreement; same slogan for five years. Luckily salarians good at multitasking. Deliver rousing speech, still avoid bullets.