Ghost in the Machine (2/4)
anonymous
May 28 2011, 19:02:34 UTC
“I’m not an experiment. If I have to put up with some discomfort to get that geth out of my head, I’ll deal, but if you’re dragging your heels just so you can get more data out of me or… whatever you’re doing, then I will fucking shoot you through your processor and get Tali to help me scrub that program. Acknowledged?”
“Acknowledged.”
It’s quiet for a while. Garrus is damp and irritated. Legion is… thinking or something.
“How much longer will it take you to uninstall the geth, Legion?
“Uninstallation of geth process will proceed faster with increased frequency of interface.”
Garrus shoots the geth platform a look. “You do know that direct nerve stimulation isn’t exactly the most socially neutral kind of interaction…”
“Extranet search provides over 200,600 results for nerve stimulation devices related to organic sexual activity.”
“Yeeeeeah. That.”
“Nerve stimulation is peripheral result of electromagnetic discharge during direct interface. We do not intend offense.”
“Bullshit,” snaps Garrus, jabbing a talon at the platform. “The last time you ‘interfaced’ you fucking touched me. You didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”
The geth stares for a long moment, head panels rising then folding back in a way that, somehow, uncertain. Then, softly, “No data available.”
Well, that leaves the two of them in a less than ideal situation. It’s very quiet up there in the trees for a while, Garrus brooding and soaked and mildly enraged and Legion… building its fucking consensus. The turian sits back against the fallen tree they’ve set up behind and closes his eyes, trying to recalculate the disastrous trajectory that took him from Point A to the burning wreckage of Point B, here with the machine that may or may not be experiencing an existential crisis over whether or not it was just trying to get in his pants.
“Garrus Vakarian?”
“Yeah, what?”
“We have reached a consensus and are willing to provide explanation.”
“Well, I certainly fucking hope so.”
“When we interface with the geth system working within you, the sensory download we share is unlike any hardware sensory construct designed by our people.” The geth’s optic flickers, panels around its face lifting and rearranging. “There is… more. It is more complex and less accurate, there is data we have no means to process. We do not have the systems to understand what is being sent during the interface, but we register fluctuations in the data that correlate to the patterns of your biometrics, Garrus Vakarian. We experience these data pulses.”
“I don’t follow,” says Garrus.
The buzzes a little. “The data gathered by the geth process active within your nervous system has provided information previously unknown to our people. The nature of organic sensation and thought.” Legion stop briefly, optic flickering. “It is useful to us.”
“How so?”
“When we interface, we share data with the process within you; this process is integrated into your hardware. In effect, we to are integrated into your hardware. We experience what you experience. No geth has been capable of such a data exchange before - we understand more. You are teaching us.”
Garrus is dumbfounded. “What?”
“The geth do not know pain, we do not know fear, we do not know despair, we only understand it as a function of your hardware and evolutionary instincts. We do not know it. When we interface with your platform, we experience what you experience and we understand. We know what you know in that moment. This is valuable to us. This is the most significant understanding the geth have ever found with an organic… we are reluctant to end this possibility of data exchange.”
Garrus doesn’t move. The sound of rain in the heavy canopy is a distant roar and somewhere out there Shepard and his crew is moving slowly toward their strike point and here, in the shadow and heat of the forest, a machine is telling him that he is vital to geth understanding of organics.
“How important is this… data you’ve been getting. To your race?”
“We cannot assign a value to the importance of the knowledge you carry.”
There is a long quiet, then, “Why did you touch me, then? If it’s just data?”
Ghost in the Machine (3/4)
anonymous
May 28 2011, 19:05:47 UTC
The geth tilts its head. “We experience what you experience. Increased stimulation results in more complex data sets. We cannot understand the minds of organics, but this is the closest we have ever come. Query: Garrus Vakarian, will you allow this data exchange to continue?”
Garrus doesn’t say anything for a really long time.
“Are you building consensus?”
A beat. “Yes.”
“We will wait.”
It’s four hours of quiet. Shepard radios to tell them it’s another six hours before they will be in position, tell them to hold where they are. The rain continues to roar across the canopy. Legion is watching the perimeter when Garrus finally moves. He sets his sniper rifle aside and calmly unsnaps the pressure clasps running up the flank of his armor. The pulls his chest plate off and sets it aside. Then, not saying anything, he starts pulling his leg guards and greaves off. He can feel Legion watching him. It’s like being watched by a multitude in the dark.
“Fine,” he says, forcing nonchalance. He starts pushing his sleeves up his arms to his elbows, wiping rainwater from his eyes. “But we don’t tell Shepard or the rest of the crew. Last thing I need is them thinking I’m being indoctrinated or some stupid -”
Legion moves faster than he expects. It surges against him, grabbing him at the hips and pulling the turian forward. It shoves his tunic up, hands on Garrus’ bare stomach. It’s between his legs, spreading his thighs with one knee, yanking the hem of the turian’s tunic over his head, reaching a hand for the side of his face and.... It stops when Garrus grabs the machine by the shoulders and shoves it back. For a moment, Legion hangs face-to-face, the glowing clockwork of its features pulsing blue. The rain makes a soft pinging against the geth’s metal shell. After a while, Legion makes a low clicking buzz and dips its head forward slightly, tapping its brow plate gently to his forehead.
Garrus slowly lets the geth go.
The electric blue of its eyes focuses on him, flaring briefly suddenly. Its hand touches his face and the world melts apart. His skull floods with static and color, blinding and bending him back. When his vision clears, the geth is speaking in digi-pulse clicks to him, as though he will understand.
Legion is holding him steady, one hand gripping the nape of his neck, the other coursing bright blue lightening through the side of his head into the synaptic highway of his body. Heat sears down the side of his neck, diffusing through the webbing of his nervous system, snaking lines of fire and across his body in stomping spasms, spine-arching pulses that send whorls of endorphins spitting through his brain. Garrus can hear himself crying out, a ragged pornographic sound so unfamiliar it makes a stranger of his own voice. He is blitzed by sensation, skin spliced with electricity, shaking his thoughts like change in a jar.
It’s almost more than he can stand, like always, skating the razor thin line between being fucked and something darker - erotic brutality of being made to like something. Garrus can’t say with any certainty that the possibility of either excites him more or less. He can feel his physical arousal, the heat and hardness, muscles coiling beneath armor and plates, a clench of tension that crawls through into the pit of his belly, pressing unbearably between his thighs. He’s dizzy. He’s drunk. He can’t remember if he instigated this or…
He can taste rain water off his teeth and when Legion touches his bare shoulder it shivers through his skin like a grab between the legs. He jerks back, hissing. Sparks of sensation skitter through skin, soak hot into muscle. The geth ghosts fingertips across his scars, leaves shivering trails across his skin that linger and throb. One touch sets off an arabesque of pleasure that hits him like Hallex. There’s a knee in the aching junction of his thighs, pressing, up impossibly agonizingly… he’s so worked up there’s zero resistance left, the lamina over his sex slides open, exposing him, he can’t think.
“Fuck.” Garrus is digging talons into the metal of Legion’s shoulders. “Fuck! Legion! Please…”
Ghost in the Machine (4/4)
anonymous
May 28 2011, 19:09:00 UTC
He’s shivering and throbbing, dreading and desperate for the touch that comes next. Legion’s wrist is down there, its hand brushing him and he thinks Just do it. Just fucking... And when the geth grips him, finally, pumps him once, twice, more than enough to destroy him - the raw physical assault rips through every nerve from his cock through his gut, through his heart, to the raging inside of his fucked-up head. He can’t even breathe. He’s screaming. Nonsense words. Babble. He can’t find words in the slurry of pleasure of lust and desperation. His head is pounding. He’s coming over and over, so fast the aftershocks are in every inch of his body and Garrus Vakarian feels himself give up everything to how this feels. It’s a horrifying surrender for a species that never yields.
Legion is fucking him.
He doesn’t care. The geth is narcotic. All he wants is the light and the friction, the next taste of electricity. He kicks his fatigues off entirely, lets Legion spread his legs, grip him at the back of one knee and - Garrus screams and arches into another nerve-stripping orgasm. Fuck! Fuck, he’d do anything for this not to stop. If the geth want him for nothing but this he could… His head falls back as he bucks up, shaking. Legion pulls him to the forest floor, presses him into the mossy carpet of the ground and pries his knees apart again. It fucks him. It fucks him. It fucks him obscene until he’s half in shock, every inch of him hyper-sensitized, until the rain against his skin in unbearable, water running into the ravines of his plating like fingers slid under skin to bare nerves.
The geth keeps going. Keeps going until Garrus isn’t sure he wants this anymore, can’t remember if this is what he agreed to or what this means when the machine brings a hand to his mouth and briefly pushes two fingers between his teeth onto his tongue. He groans, a glut of terror and confusion in the sound and Legion withdraws, but that is the only concession it makes. Garrus loses track of himself, loses track of the geth. He knows Legion is touching every inch of him, there is nothing sacred to a machine, it gropes him and fingers him and fucks every part of him until he can’t speak. Garrus tastes metal , hot water, the strange saline slick of his own body. There is static in his bones, climax mounting his spine from his throbbing cock to the back of his throat, scrubbing every nerve with the gasoline burn of want.
He’s pushing against Legion, tonguing and biting, reactionary impulses he’s never given to another living being.
“Garrus Vakarian.”
He can’t answer. He can’t remember how.
“Garrus Vakarian, what is your status?”
He can’t speak. He can’t even move. He’s shaking too hard. What… where is he? What…?
And suddenly everything stops. It’s like the lights go out in the work and his body goes dark. He shudders, doubling up at the violent change of pace and Legion leans down to look at him.
“We are stopping,” it says quietly.
Garrus pushes the geth away, goes down on his hands and knees and vomits until nothing comes up. Then he dry heaves until his head hurts. He isn’t sure why. Legion helps him sit up again and goes to gather the turian’s clothes from the ground, hands the garments back to him. Garrus swallows and pulls his tunic back on, shivering violently, every muscle aching. His throat burns, the whole of his lower body hurts. He’s too tired to examine the hectic mess of his own emotions rights now and just focuses on pulling his pants back on, on not passing out.
“We have uninstalled the geth process from your cybernetics. We will not request data exchange again.”
“You… changed your mind?” Garrus is numb at this point.
“We understand why we cannot ask it of you.” Legion pauses for a moment, its optic glowing steady in the dark. “It is not worth it.”
“Did you get enough to work with?”
“Yes. We better understand, Garrus Vakarian... and we understand what you have given. You are the first organic willing to risk yourself for the sake of the geth.” To the turian’s surprise the machine gingerly bumps the topmost panels of its head against his brow. Garrus freezes uncertainly. Legion looks at him. “Thank you.”
Author-anon Here
anonymous
May 31 2011, 19:18:07 UTC
I knoooow, I love Legion and Garrus - my badass sniper pair. If I can think of a reason to throw them together some more, I'll post something up. They are just so much fun to write.
Re: Author-anon Here
anonymous
May 31 2011, 21:48:13 UTC
...Guh.
.....GUH.
WHAT IS AIR.
That was the most erotic, humourous, brutal and... intriguing pairing I've every written.
And might I add that you write....amazingly? "Gasoline burn of want" and that descriptor about Garrus' thoughts "like change rattling around in a jar." SUPERB. I'm sure there were tons of others I was blown away by, but those come to mind.
And the way you write them....I can see them together, not in a full on relationship, but...there's a tiny spark of understanding between the two of them that just seems to fit?
For a moment, I thought Garrus was going to become addicted to the interfacing, but the end (GETH HEADBUMP) was a sweet touch.
If you can ever have a chance to write more of this....(I'm hesitant to call it a pairing)...'thing' between Garrus and Legion, then your fans will be PLEASED.
Re: Ghost in the Machine (4/4)
anonymous
September 12 2011, 09:21:34 UTC
You know, I have to resist reading this series for a certain period of time, just to have that ohmygodyesplease rush again. This is my gift-to-myself read. Authanon, I love you.
Is there anything else you've written? Or is that rude to ask? I'd desperately love to have more of your.....anything.
“Acknowledged.”
It’s quiet for a while. Garrus is damp and irritated. Legion is… thinking or something.
“How much longer will it take you to uninstall the geth, Legion?
“Uninstallation of geth process will proceed faster with increased frequency of interface.”
Garrus shoots the geth platform a look. “You do know that direct nerve stimulation isn’t exactly the most socially neutral kind of interaction…”
“Extranet search provides over 200,600 results for nerve stimulation devices related to organic sexual activity.”
“Yeeeeeah. That.”
“Nerve stimulation is peripheral result of electromagnetic discharge during direct interface. We do not intend offense.”
“Bullshit,” snaps Garrus, jabbing a talon at the platform. “The last time you ‘interfaced’ you fucking touched me. You didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”
The geth stares for a long moment, head panels rising then folding back in a way that, somehow, uncertain. Then, softly, “No data available.”
Well, that leaves the two of them in a less than ideal situation. It’s very quiet up there in the trees for a while, Garrus brooding and soaked and mildly enraged and Legion… building its fucking consensus. The turian sits back against the fallen tree they’ve set up behind and closes his eyes, trying to recalculate the disastrous trajectory that took him from Point A to the burning wreckage of Point B, here with the machine that may or may not be experiencing an existential crisis over whether or not it was just trying to get in his pants.
“Garrus Vakarian?”
“Yeah, what?”
“We have reached a consensus and are willing to provide explanation.”
“Well, I certainly fucking hope so.”
“When we interface with the geth system working within you, the sensory download we share is unlike any hardware sensory construct designed by our people.” The geth’s optic flickers, panels around its face lifting and rearranging. “There is… more. It is more complex and less accurate, there is data we have no means to process. We do not have the systems to understand what is being sent during the interface, but we register fluctuations in the data that correlate to the patterns of your biometrics, Garrus Vakarian. We experience these data pulses.”
“I don’t follow,” says Garrus.
The buzzes a little. “The data gathered by the geth process active within your nervous system has provided information previously unknown to our people. The nature of organic sensation and thought.” Legion stop briefly, optic flickering. “It is useful to us.”
“How so?”
“When we interface, we share data with the process within you; this process is integrated into your hardware. In effect, we to are integrated into your hardware. We experience what you experience. No geth has been capable of such a data exchange before - we understand more. You are teaching us.”
Garrus is dumbfounded. “What?”
“The geth do not know pain, we do not know fear, we do not know despair, we only understand it as a function of your hardware and evolutionary instincts. We do not know it. When we interface with your platform, we experience what you experience and we understand. We know what you know in that moment. This is valuable to us. This is the most significant understanding the geth have ever found with an organic… we are reluctant to end this possibility of data exchange.”
Garrus doesn’t move. The sound of rain in the heavy canopy is a distant roar and somewhere out there Shepard and his crew is moving slowly toward their strike point and here, in the shadow and heat of the forest, a machine is telling him that he is vital to geth understanding of organics.
“How important is this… data you’ve been getting. To your race?”
“We cannot assign a value to the importance of the knowledge you carry.”
There is a long quiet, then, “Why did you touch me, then? If it’s just data?”
Reply
Garrus doesn’t say anything for a really long time.
“Are you building consensus?”
A beat. “Yes.”
“We will wait.”
It’s four hours of quiet. Shepard radios to tell them it’s another six hours before they will be in position, tell them to hold where they are. The rain continues to roar across the canopy. Legion is watching the perimeter when Garrus finally moves. He sets his sniper rifle aside and calmly unsnaps the pressure clasps running up the flank of his armor. The pulls his chest plate off and sets it aside. Then, not saying anything, he starts pulling his leg guards and greaves off. He can feel Legion watching him. It’s like being watched by a multitude in the dark.
“Fine,” he says, forcing nonchalance. He starts pushing his sleeves up his arms to his elbows, wiping rainwater from his eyes. “But we don’t tell Shepard or the rest of the crew. Last thing I need is them thinking I’m being indoctrinated or some stupid -”
Legion moves faster than he expects. It surges against him, grabbing him at the hips and pulling the turian forward. It shoves his tunic up, hands on Garrus’ bare stomach. It’s between his legs, spreading his thighs with one knee, yanking the hem of the turian’s tunic over his head, reaching a hand for the side of his face and.... It stops when Garrus grabs the machine by the shoulders and shoves it back. For a moment, Legion hangs face-to-face, the glowing clockwork of its features pulsing blue. The rain makes a soft pinging against the geth’s metal shell. After a while, Legion makes a low clicking buzz and dips its head forward slightly, tapping its brow plate gently to his forehead.
Garrus slowly lets the geth go.
The electric blue of its eyes focuses on him, flaring briefly suddenly. Its hand touches his face and the world melts apart. His skull floods with static and color, blinding and bending him back. When his vision clears, the geth is speaking in digi-pulse clicks to him, as though he will understand.
Legion is holding him steady, one hand gripping the nape of his neck, the other coursing bright blue lightening through the side of his head into the synaptic highway of his body. Heat sears down the side of his neck, diffusing through the webbing of his nervous system, snaking lines of fire and across his body in stomping spasms, spine-arching pulses that send whorls of endorphins spitting through his brain. Garrus can hear himself crying out, a ragged pornographic sound so unfamiliar it makes a stranger of his own voice. He is blitzed by sensation, skin spliced with electricity, shaking his thoughts like change in a jar.
It’s almost more than he can stand, like always, skating the razor thin line between being fucked and something darker - erotic brutality of being made to like something. Garrus can’t say with any certainty that the possibility of either excites him more or less. He can feel his physical arousal, the heat and hardness, muscles coiling beneath armor and plates, a clench of tension that crawls through into the pit of his belly, pressing unbearably between his thighs. He’s dizzy. He’s drunk. He can’t remember if he instigated this or…
He can taste rain water off his teeth and when Legion touches his bare shoulder it shivers through his skin like a grab between the legs. He jerks back, hissing. Sparks of sensation skitter through skin, soak hot into muscle. The geth ghosts fingertips across his scars, leaves shivering trails across his skin that linger and throb. One touch sets off an arabesque of pleasure that hits him like Hallex. There’s a knee in the aching junction of his thighs, pressing, up impossibly agonizingly… he’s so worked up there’s zero resistance left, the lamina over his sex slides open, exposing him, he can’t think.
“Fuck.” Garrus is digging talons into the metal of Legion’s shoulders. “Fuck! Legion! Please…”
Reply
Legion is fucking him.
He doesn’t care. The geth is narcotic. All he wants is the light and the friction, the next taste of electricity. He kicks his fatigues off entirely, lets Legion spread his legs, grip him at the back of one knee and - Garrus screams and arches into another nerve-stripping orgasm. Fuck! Fuck, he’d do anything for this not to stop. If the geth want him for nothing but this he could… His head falls back as he bucks up, shaking. Legion pulls him to the forest floor, presses him into the mossy carpet of the ground and pries his knees apart again. It fucks him. It fucks him. It fucks him obscene until he’s half in shock, every inch of him hyper-sensitized, until the rain against his skin in unbearable, water running into the ravines of his plating like fingers slid under skin to bare nerves.
The geth keeps going. Keeps going until Garrus isn’t sure he wants this anymore, can’t remember if this is what he agreed to or what this means when the machine brings a hand to his mouth and briefly pushes two fingers between his teeth onto his tongue. He groans, a glut of terror and confusion in the sound and Legion withdraws, but that is the only concession it makes. Garrus loses track of himself, loses track of the geth. He knows Legion is touching every inch of him, there is nothing sacred to a machine, it gropes him and fingers him and fucks every part of him until he can’t speak. Garrus tastes metal , hot water, the strange saline slick of his own body. There is static in his bones, climax mounting his spine from his throbbing cock to the back of his throat, scrubbing every nerve with the gasoline burn of want.
He’s pushing against Legion, tonguing and biting, reactionary impulses he’s never given to another living being.
“Garrus Vakarian.”
He can’t answer. He can’t remember how.
“Garrus Vakarian, what is your status?”
He can’t speak. He can’t even move. He’s shaking too hard. What… where is he? What…?
And suddenly everything stops. It’s like the lights go out in the work and his body goes dark. He shudders, doubling up at the violent change of pace and Legion leans down to look at him.
“We are stopping,” it says quietly.
Garrus pushes the geth away, goes down on his hands and knees and vomits until nothing comes up. Then he dry heaves until his head hurts. He isn’t sure why. Legion helps him sit up again and goes to gather the turian’s clothes from the ground, hands the garments back to him. Garrus swallows and pulls his tunic back on, shivering violently, every muscle aching. His throat burns, the whole of his lower body hurts. He’s too tired to examine the hectic mess of his own emotions rights now and just focuses on pulling his pants back on, on not passing out.
“We have uninstalled the geth process from your cybernetics. We will not request data exchange again.”
“You… changed your mind?” Garrus is numb at this point.
“We understand why we cannot ask it of you.” Legion pauses for a moment, its optic glowing steady in the dark. “It is not worth it.”
“Did you get enough to work with?”
“Yes. We better understand, Garrus Vakarian... and we understand what you have given. You are the first organic willing to risk yourself for the sake of the geth.” To the turian’s surprise the machine gingerly bumps the topmost panels of its head against his brow. Garrus freezes uncertainly. Legion looks at him. “Thank you.”
“You… you’re welcome, Legion.”
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Poor Garrus.
And that headbump...
guh.
I like that at least I still can't tell Legion's motives and thoughts exactly.
You rock so much as a writer....
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And oh god, geth headbumps.
CHRISTMAS HAS COME EARLY
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Is.
Amazing.
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And now I need a cold shower.
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this.
...i'm not sure i have words. the headbump killed me.
this is. just.perfect. something about these two just. works... so so much.
....i think i may have just died a little bit.
my two favorites.... :D
this is a happy anon. if there is any way for this to continue, please ...?
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.....GUH.
WHAT IS AIR.
That was the most erotic, humourous, brutal and... intriguing pairing I've every written.
And might I add that you write....amazingly? "Gasoline burn of want" and that descriptor about Garrus' thoughts "like change rattling around in a jar." SUPERB. I'm sure there were tons of others I was blown away by, but those come to mind.
And the way you write them....I can see them together, not in a full on relationship, but...there's a tiny spark of understanding between the two of them that just seems to fit?
For a moment, I thought Garrus was going to become addicted to the interfacing, but the end (GETH HEADBUMP) was a sweet touch.
If you can ever have a chance to write more of this....(I'm hesitant to call it a pairing)...'thing' between Garrus and Legion, then your fans will be PLEASED.
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That first line (where I can string together a coherent sentence) is meant to read "that I've ever seen written."
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Is there anything else you've written? Or is that rude to ask? I'd desperately love to have more of your.....anything.
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http://i45.tinypic.com/sdz51h.jpg
How do I anatomy?
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