the color of its countries, 2/?
anonymous
March 5 2011, 23:43:15 UTC
She ditched Tali and Kasumi, shooed away the solicitous asari proprietress, and browsed for a bit. She discarded most of the available options out of hand. Sexy outfits designed for humans emphasized areas of the body that did pretty much nothing for Garrus, who was far more interested in the bones at her wrists and ankles (and the back of her neck, and . . . ) than in her jigglier bits. Not that he objected to the jiggly bits, but he wasn’t any more fond of them than, say, her ears.
Thinking of Garrus, especially in a place like this, inevitably sent her heart rate up a tick and made her daydream. How would he react if she pulled a flogger out of her bag? -Although she’d have to decide in advance who would be flogger and who flog-ee, since the toys designed for humans had little effect on thick turian plating, and the toys designed for turians would have taken the skin clean off Shepard’s ass, which was not a turn-on for either of them. Of course, she could always get one of each . . . .
The thing that finally caught her eye, though, wasn’t elaborate or flashy, and it was its very simplicity that made her think, Hm. That could be fun.
She made her purchase, slipped it into the discreet black bag (this really was a classy place, asari-run and aimed primarily at a clientele of well-off asari), and went to find Tali and Kasumi. Belatedly, she hoped that Kasumi hadn’t caused Tali to rupture a blood vessel in embarrassment (did the Fleet even have shops like this, or were nerve stimulators a one-style-fits-all proposition?). But no, there were the pair of them, Tali gesturing to something on the shelf with a comment Shepard couldn’t quite make out and Kasumi nearly doubled over with laughter.
"What’d you buy?" Kasumi asked as they left.
"I still don’t want to know," Tali said, in her 'I have a shotgun' tone of voice. Apparently she’d overcome her embarrassment enough to make fun of silicone replicas of krogan . . . equipment, but she still didn’t want to think about her friends getting it on. Well. Fair enough: there were plenty of people that Shepard thought of as good friends whose sex life she had less than no interest in.
"I’m not telling," she said, to Kasumi’s dismay and Tali’s relief. And she maintained that stance all the way back to the ship.
On the Normandy-after she made sure Ken and Gabby had received the ship upgrades she’d bargained so carefully over-she sent Garrus a discreet ping letting him know she was . . . free this evening. Shucked off the armor and took a shower, put on a little something comfortable that showed off her throat and collarbones. And waited. Impatiently. Nothing like visiting a sex shop to get your mind going in one very particular direction.
Garrus didn’t bother to hit the chime on her door these days, which gave her an obscure kind of pleasure. He came straight in, and he was rubbing his forehead with one gloved hand, his voice tired as he said, "You would not believe the day I’ve had." Then he looked up, and trailed off as the door whisked shut behind him. " . . . Looks like you’ve had a pretty good day, though."
Re: the color of its countries, 2/?
anonymous
March 6 2011, 06:01:26 UTC
Not the OP but I am loving this so far. Props especially go for pointing out that what would be attractive to human standards may not hold true for the turian side of things. Eagerly anticipating more!
Re: the color of its countries, 2/?
anonymous
March 6 2011, 11:09:05 UTC
This is so INTERESTING. Of course Garrus would be all about her bony parts! And obviously I can see Tali being all "TOO MUCH INFORMATION" in response to Kasumi's gossiping. Well done, anon! If the leadup is this good, I can't wait to see where it goes later~
Re: the color of its countries, 2/?
anonymous
March 6 2011, 22:34:45 UTC
Still not the OP, but I am absolutely loving this. I really love the idea of finding things to be attracted to in a different species, even if it's something different than usual. Although, I think collarbones are pretty sexy anyway, but you know.
I also find the whole concept of FemShep hanging out with 'the girls' so awesome. Tali and Kasumi are never not lovable, and you've got everybody so nicely in-character so far. I really hope you continue, and terrific work so far!
Re: the color of its countries, 2/?
anonymous
March 7 2011, 02:23:12 UTC
Not OP but loving this so far. You're doing great at keeping in-character so far and the little banters are just great. Can't wait to see what else becomes of this.
I'm so glad you're all enjoying this! I've been working on the next part while fighting the Killer Death Flu of Doom, but have no fear, I haven't forgotten and will update very soon. :D
the color of its countries, 3/?
anonymous
March 13 2011, 00:39:21 UTC
Flu: DEFEATED! And now, onward with the story....
***
"Negotiations went all right, I take it?" Garrus asked, settling on the bed next to her and hauling off his boots. He flexed his toes and exhaled with relief.
"Fine. Came in under budget." Oh, the thrilling conversations of her love life. When she'd been Tali's age, she would have never understood it, the sheer pleasure of being able to unload about mundanities.
"Let me guess: you told 'em it was your favorite shop in the Citadel." Garrus' thumb ghosting briefly over the back of her wrist belied his smirk.
"Ha ha." Shepard felt her breath catch in her chest when he pulled off his gloves, careful and slow, revealing the glittering points of his talons. She trailed a hand up his back, glad he'd shed his hardsuit before coming up. To human touch, even a very relaxed turian felt tense, since heavy plates didn't give beneath the fingertips the way thin skin over muscles did. But she'd learned, gradually, how to tell stress in Garrus' body: the way his plates shifted slightly out of alignment when he was holding himself rigid with stress, the way the smaller scale-like patches of hide bunched up beneath his cowl, around the joints of his shoulders. She could feel them all slightly out of place, even through the fabric of his shirt. "What happened today?"
Garrus exhaled, and she felt a little of the tension drain out of him by the way the plates loosened along his spine. She worked her fingers up and down, slowly, finding the right places to put a little pressure. It was less like massage and more like using a lever, but hey . . . . "Nothing bad, just . . . the cannons are doing something odd and I can't figure out why, I keep running the numbers and they don't come out right, and worse, they keep not coming out right in different ways. After the fifth different answer I started to wonder if I was losing my mind." She could feel the complementary vibrations of his doubled vocal cords through her fingertips.
"Ask Tali?" She let her hands run farther up his spine, over the cloth-covered edge of his bony cowl and along the bare, sensitive skin on its inside. It wasn't a major erogenous zone-wasn't really an erogenous zone at all, honestly-but she'd gradually learned enough about his reactions that she could manage more subtlety than going straight for his fringe or for the dip between his torso and hipbones. "She could probably take a look at what's going on under the hood." And I refrained from traumatizing her with information about our sex life, so she'll almost certainly still be willing to talk to you about it, she thought but did not say.
"Mmh." She wasn't sure if that was agreement or just appreciation, but either way, he paused to take off his shirt, and then half-turned and hooked his hands around her waist. She was still surprised, every time, at the casual strength he had at his command; he hauled her into his lap without even a hard breath of effort. "Don't really want to talk about the battery computers anymore," he said. He'd dropped his head so that she could feel each word as a warm breath on her throat, and she shuddered all the way down from the nape of her neck to her tailbone.
the color of its countries, 4/?
anonymous
March 13 2011, 00:42:08 UTC
They didn't talk much for a while after that. She mapped the hide of his plates, like warm leather under her fingertips, and bit at the tip of his keelbone just to feel the reverberations of his growl rising up out of his chest and into her hands. Garrus' tongue traced the curves of her ear with an agonizing slowness that left her squirming astride his thighs. He finished by catching her earlobe between the harder, beaklike plates of his mouth-something between a nip and a kiss-and then murmured in her ear, "What's the occasion?"
She squirmed more, dug her hands up under his fringe for a grip and was pleased when that made him purr-growl again and shift beneath her. "What d'you mean?"
"You're all dressed up." Another nip, to the sensitive skin just beneath the corner of her jaw, and then his tongue followed the vee-shaped tendons of her throat downward. "Or dressed down, or whatever."
"You don't seem to be objecting." She could feel his mandibles ghost outward in a smile, and then he started tracing a path from her sternum out along her left collarbone, just as slow and careful as if he was lining up a critical shot.
"No," he said, and again, breath and vibrations against the curve of her shoulderbone made her shudder. "Not objecting. Just," a bite, "curious."
"Actually, I-god, you're distracting."
"Why, thank you."
"-I did have a reason. I almost forgot." She wriggled backwards off his lap, and laughed when he made a protesting noise and grabbed for her. "I'll be right back."
She'd left the bag on the desk, which meant an endless trek all the way up the stairs. Shepard lobbed it to Garrus; he caught it on one claw, studied its very elegant and discreet logo, then gave her a brow-plates-raised knowing look. "I think we've found your true favorite shop in the Citadel."
"Shut up," she said, but she was laughing as she pounced back into his lap, feeling suddenly playful and much younger. Kasumi was right: it had been a good idea.
Garrus tugged the bag off his claw and pulled out her purchase. He turned the round tin over. "Body paint?"
Shepard took it from him and squirmed up closer so that her breasts were pressed against his chestplates and her lips brushed his mandibles as she said, "Edible body paint, no less."
"Hmm," Garrus said, his body rumbling an interested counterpoint that she could feel through her hands and arms and breasts. He retrieved the tin again-Shepard had distracted herself by nibbling the downturned tips of his mandibles-and popped the top off. Inside, the paint was subdivided into six colors, red through purple. She'd gone all-out for the deluxe version. "Edible for which one of us?"
"Both, actually." That was the other deluxe element: it had been purified so that no trace of protein remained. A painstaking and not-inexpensive process, that.
"Hmm," Garrus said again, and this time the rumble extended into a purr. Most human languages didn't have enough words to cover the magnificent variety of turian vocalizations; 'growl' and 'rumble' and 'purr' didn't quite get across the subtleties of expression his polyphonic vocal apparatus was capable of, and Shepard was only just beginning to be able to distinguish them anyway. This particular vibration expressed both intrigued curiosity and arousal, though, and that was exactly what she had been hoping for.
the color of its countries, 5/?
anonymous
March 13 2011, 00:46:05 UTC
She dipped her fingertips into the orange, the closest she could come to the rusty color of the Normandy's highlight paint job, and swept it along the underside of one mandible, just beneath the blue of his facial markings. She moved to dip her fingers back in the orange and repeat on the other side, but Garrus was faster: he dipped a forefinger in the green (the same shade as her armor, nearly) and swept it along her collarbones.
"You and clavicles," Shepard said, with a laugh that turned to a gasp as Garrus bent his head and licked the green back off.
"You don't seem to be protesting." Another sweep of green, curling in from the ball of her shoulder joint inward, this one curving all the way down her breastbone. When he followed the track of his fingers with his tongue, ending with the forked tip swirling over her heart, she couldn't help it: she jerked her hips against his.
She couldn't even fault him for his smug chuckle.
"How's it taste?" she asked, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Turian males couldn't lie down on their backs for long-the heavy arch of their cowl made it uncomfortable at best-but it would work for a little while. She shimmied up further until her thighs bracketed his waist, encouraged by his hands curling around the backs of her thighs. Garrus was probably getting green paint on her ass. She really didn't care.
Garrus made a show of licking his lips. His tongue was faintly green. "Sweet," he said. "Just sweet."
"Makes sense." To be safe for both levo and dextro species, it had probably been purged of everything but carbohydrates: starches and sugars. Hands on the plates covering Garrus' powerful chest muscles (and leaving orange smudges in her wake), Shepard leaned down and carefully, thoroughly, slowly licked his mandible clean of paint. Sweet, yes, and under that the now-familiar taste of his skin, metal and leather; the slick smoothness of his hide-plate there, and, when she curled her tongue underneath (which made Garrus groan and buck his hips against her) the sensitive softness of the mandible's inner side.
He wrenched himself up with a sudden movement that toppled her onto the bed, one thigh still hooked over the top of his hip. He caught the tin of paint with a motion so sudden it reminded her of a striking snake, then dipped his fingers back in the green. Side by side and face to face now, he painted a line down her sternum again, then caught the edge of her negligee (getting green all over it, and she really could not have cared less) and tugged it up over her head. With the soft pads of his fingers, and careful of her thinner skin, he painted more green on the tight points of her nipples and then dropped his head to lick her clean again.
(Her breasts did very little for him, and yet somehow that made it more intimate, the fact that he spent so much time winding his tongue around them just because it made her feel good.)
She scrabbled, with a little help, to get his pants off. By the time she did, the plates protecting his groin had already shifted and he'd fully unsheathed, hard and flushed deeply blue, and she went to draw a spiral of orange up his shaft… and was stopped by his hand on her wrist.
"If you do that," he said, "it's going to be all over really fast." His voice sounded thinner and tighter than usual; one of his twin larynxes was now totally occupied with a constant aroused rumbling that she could feel all through his body and her own.
"That's okay with me," she said, and felt him shudder all over, heard his purr briefly harmonize with itself before he got control of himself again.
"Yeah, but I want-" he said, and then stopped trying to talk at all and instead tracked his hand downward and slipped a finger into her.
(He had to be so careful, his sharp claw naked within the sensitive folds of her body, but she trusted him to be careful and he was, and that combination of potential danger and total faith in him was more a turn-on than nearly anything else they did.)
"Yeah," she said, her own voice tight and breathless, reaching blindly to the bedside table for their stock of dual-chirality condoms. "Yeah."
Thinking of Garrus, especially in a place like this, inevitably sent her heart rate up a tick and made her daydream. How would he react if she pulled a flogger out of her bag? -Although she’d have to decide in advance who would be flogger and who flog-ee, since the toys designed for humans had little effect on thick turian plating, and the toys designed for turians would have taken the skin clean off Shepard’s ass, which was not a turn-on for either of them. Of course, she could always get one of each . . . .
The thing that finally caught her eye, though, wasn’t elaborate or flashy, and it was its very simplicity that made her think, Hm. That could be fun.
She made her purchase, slipped it into the discreet black bag (this really was a classy place, asari-run and aimed primarily at a clientele of well-off asari), and went to find Tali and Kasumi. Belatedly, she hoped that Kasumi hadn’t caused Tali to rupture a blood vessel in embarrassment (did the Fleet even have shops like this, or were nerve stimulators a one-style-fits-all proposition?). But no, there were the pair of them, Tali gesturing to something on the shelf with a comment Shepard couldn’t quite make out and Kasumi nearly doubled over with laughter.
"What’d you buy?" Kasumi asked as they left.
"I still don’t want to know," Tali said, in her 'I have a shotgun' tone of voice. Apparently she’d overcome her embarrassment enough to make fun of silicone replicas of krogan . . . equipment, but she still didn’t want to think about her friends getting it on. Well. Fair enough: there were plenty of people that Shepard thought of as good friends whose sex life she had less than no interest in.
"I’m not telling," she said, to Kasumi’s dismay and Tali’s relief. And she maintained that stance all the way back to the ship.
On the Normandy-after she made sure Ken and Gabby had received the ship upgrades she’d bargained so carefully over-she sent Garrus a discreet ping letting him know she was . . . free this evening. Shucked off the armor and took a shower, put on a little something comfortable that showed off her throat and collarbones. And waited. Impatiently. Nothing like visiting a sex shop to get your mind going in one very particular direction.
Garrus didn’t bother to hit the chime on her door these days, which gave her an obscure kind of pleasure. He came straight in, and he was rubbing his forehead with one gloved hand, his voice tired as he said, "You would not believe the day I’ve had." Then he looked up, and trailed off as the door whisked shut behind him. " . . . Looks like you’ve had a pretty good day, though."
"You could say that."
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Please continue :)
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...moar plz
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I also find the whole concept of FemShep hanging out with 'the girls' so awesome. Tali and Kasumi are never not lovable, and you've got everybody so nicely in-character so far. I really hope you continue, and terrific work so far!
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in-character so far and the little banters are just great.
Can't wait to see what else becomes of this.
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***
"Negotiations went all right, I take it?" Garrus asked, settling on the bed next to her and hauling off his boots. He flexed his toes and exhaled with relief.
"Fine. Came in under budget." Oh, the thrilling conversations of her love life. When she'd been Tali's age, she would have never understood it, the sheer pleasure of being able to unload about mundanities.
"Let me guess: you told 'em it was your favorite shop in the Citadel." Garrus' thumb ghosting briefly over the back of her wrist belied his smirk.
"Ha ha." Shepard felt her breath catch in her chest when he pulled off his gloves, careful and slow, revealing the glittering points of his talons. She trailed a hand up his back, glad he'd shed his hardsuit before coming up. To human touch, even a very relaxed turian felt tense, since heavy plates didn't give beneath the fingertips the way thin skin over muscles did. But she'd learned, gradually, how to tell stress in Garrus' body: the way his plates shifted slightly out of alignment when he was holding himself rigid with stress, the way the smaller scale-like patches of hide bunched up beneath his cowl, around the joints of his shoulders. She could feel them all slightly out of place, even through the fabric of his shirt. "What happened today?"
Garrus exhaled, and she felt a little of the tension drain out of him by the way the plates loosened along his spine. She worked her fingers up and down, slowly, finding the right places to put a little pressure. It was less like massage and more like using a lever, but hey . . . . "Nothing bad, just . . . the cannons are doing something odd and I can't figure out why, I keep running the numbers and they don't come out right, and worse, they keep not coming out right in different ways. After the fifth different answer I started to wonder if I was losing my mind." She could feel the complementary vibrations of his doubled vocal cords through her fingertips.
"Ask Tali?" She let her hands run farther up his spine, over the cloth-covered edge of his bony cowl and along the bare, sensitive skin on its inside. It wasn't a major erogenous zone-wasn't really an erogenous zone at all, honestly-but she'd gradually learned enough about his reactions that she could manage more subtlety than going straight for his fringe or for the dip between his torso and hipbones. "She could probably take a look at what's going on under the hood." And I refrained from traumatizing her with information about our sex life, so she'll almost certainly still be willing to talk to you about it, she thought but did not say.
"Mmh." She wasn't sure if that was agreement or just appreciation, but either way, he paused to take off his shirt, and then half-turned and hooked his hands around her waist. She was still surprised, every time, at the casual strength he had at his command; he hauled her into his lap without even a hard breath of effort. "Don't really want to talk about the battery computers anymore," he said. He'd dropped his head so that she could feel each word as a warm breath on her throat, and she shuddered all the way down from the nape of her neck to her tailbone.
"That's okay," she said. "Neither do I."
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She squirmed more, dug her hands up under his fringe for a grip and was pleased when that made him purr-growl again and shift beneath her. "What d'you mean?"
"You're all dressed up." Another nip, to the sensitive skin just beneath the corner of her jaw, and then his tongue followed the vee-shaped tendons of her throat downward. "Or dressed down, or whatever."
"You don't seem to be objecting." She could feel his mandibles ghost outward in a smile, and then he started tracing a path from her sternum out along her left collarbone, just as slow and careful as if he was lining up a critical shot.
"No," he said, and again, breath and vibrations against the curve of her shoulderbone made her shudder. "Not objecting. Just," a bite, "curious."
"Actually, I-god, you're distracting."
"Why, thank you."
"-I did have a reason. I almost forgot." She wriggled backwards off his lap, and laughed when he made a protesting noise and grabbed for her. "I'll be right back."
She'd left the bag on the desk, which meant an endless trek all the way up the stairs. Shepard lobbed it to Garrus; he caught it on one claw, studied its very elegant and discreet logo, then gave her a brow-plates-raised knowing look. "I think we've found your true favorite shop in the Citadel."
"Shut up," she said, but she was laughing as she pounced back into his lap, feeling suddenly playful and much younger. Kasumi was right: it had been a good idea.
Garrus tugged the bag off his claw and pulled out her purchase. He turned the round tin over. "Body paint?"
Shepard took it from him and squirmed up closer so that her breasts were pressed against his chestplates and her lips brushed his mandibles as she said, "Edible body paint, no less."
"Hmm," Garrus said, his body rumbling an interested counterpoint that she could feel through her hands and arms and breasts. He retrieved the tin again-Shepard had distracted herself by nibbling the downturned tips of his mandibles-and popped the top off. Inside, the paint was subdivided into six colors, red through purple. She'd gone all-out for the deluxe version. "Edible for which one of us?"
"Both, actually." That was the other deluxe element: it had been purified so that no trace of protein remained. A painstaking and not-inexpensive process, that.
"Hmm," Garrus said again, and this time the rumble extended into a purr. Most human languages didn't have enough words to cover the magnificent variety of turian vocalizations; 'growl' and 'rumble' and 'purr' didn't quite get across the subtleties of expression his polyphonic vocal apparatus was capable of, and Shepard was only just beginning to be able to distinguish them anyway. This particular vibration expressed both intrigued curiosity and arousal, though, and that was exactly what she had been hoping for.
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"You and clavicles," Shepard said, with a laugh that turned to a gasp as Garrus bent his head and licked the green back off.
"You don't seem to be protesting." Another sweep of green, curling in from the ball of her shoulder joint inward, this one curving all the way down her breastbone. When he followed the track of his fingers with his tongue, ending with the forked tip swirling over her heart, she couldn't help it: she jerked her hips against his.
She couldn't even fault him for his smug chuckle.
"How's it taste?" she asked, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Turian males couldn't lie down on their backs for long-the heavy arch of their cowl made it uncomfortable at best-but it would work for a little while. She shimmied up further until her thighs bracketed his waist, encouraged by his hands curling around the backs of her thighs. Garrus was probably getting green paint on her ass. She really didn't care.
Garrus made a show of licking his lips. His tongue was faintly green. "Sweet," he said. "Just sweet."
"Makes sense." To be safe for both levo and dextro species, it had probably been purged of everything but carbohydrates: starches and sugars. Hands on the plates covering Garrus' powerful chest muscles (and leaving orange smudges in her wake), Shepard leaned down and carefully, thoroughly, slowly licked his mandible clean of paint. Sweet, yes, and under that the now-familiar taste of his skin, metal and leather; the slick smoothness of his hide-plate there, and, when she curled her tongue underneath (which made Garrus groan and buck his hips against her) the sensitive softness of the mandible's inner side.
He wrenched himself up with a sudden movement that toppled her onto the bed, one thigh still hooked over the top of his hip. He caught the tin of paint with a motion so sudden it reminded her of a striking snake, then dipped his fingers back in the green. Side by side and face to face now, he painted a line down her sternum again, then caught the edge of her negligee (getting green all over it, and she really could not have cared less) and tugged it up over her head. With the soft pads of his fingers, and careful of her thinner skin, he painted more green on the tight points of her nipples and then dropped his head to lick her clean again.
(Her breasts did very little for him, and yet somehow that made it more intimate, the fact that he spent so much time winding his tongue around them just because it made her feel good.)
She scrabbled, with a little help, to get his pants off. By the time she did, the plates protecting his groin had already shifted and he'd fully unsheathed, hard and flushed deeply blue, and she went to draw a spiral of orange up his shaft… and was stopped by his hand on her wrist.
"If you do that," he said, "it's going to be all over really fast." His voice sounded thinner and tighter than usual; one of his twin larynxes was now totally occupied with a constant aroused rumbling that she could feel all through his body and her own.
"That's okay with me," she said, and felt him shudder all over, heard his purr briefly harmonize with itself before he got control of himself again.
"Yeah, but I want-" he said, and then stopped trying to talk at all and instead tracked his hand downward and slipped a finger into her.
(He had to be so careful, his sharp claw naked within the sensitive folds of her body, but she trusted him to be careful and he was, and that combination of potential danger and total faith in him was more a turn-on than nearly anything else they did.)
"Yeah," she said, her own voice tight and breathless, reaching blindly to the bedside table for their stock of dual-chirality condoms. "Yeah."
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