Re: Teardrop [3/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:29:27 UTC
Shepard would know.
Ridiculous. The last thing she needed right now was this sort of… this. He’d have to decide for himself. Should he watch, or should he just delete it? Delete the entire series?
Delete what he suspected was evidence of their… love?
Nobody loves him like I do.
Garrus wanted to shake the memory away but found that he couldn’t. Why the fuck did you have to go crazy, you mother-fucking barefaced son of a whore? Even after so many years, he still remembered the solemn respect, the… reverence in Nihlus’s voice when he spoke about Saren.
Professionally we don’t see eye to eye. But there’s this whole other side of him, which is… amazing.
Perhaps… Perhaps the vid could offer insight of another nature. Insight into Saren’s personality. What did any of them really know about him? Other than the fact that he was fighting this indoctrination thing and apparently losing. Other than the fact that he was operating under the illusion, the delusion that he was working in the interest of his people. That was one thing Garrus could not deny him: he had always worked in the interest of the Hierarchy. What if… what if there was still some angle, some approach to take with him and bring him back to… sanity?
His eyes lingered on the smiling dark-skinned face colored in vivacious whites, remembered its warmth, its naked honesty, and found the answer: no. The damage had already been done.
What to do? Damn my soul, why am I so fucking indecisive? He needed direction more than ever. What would Nihlus tell him if he were alive? Garrus scoffed at the fantasy; the few hours of conversation and intimacy they’d had together hardly qualified as “knowing” each other; how the hell could he guess what would Nihlus want?
Nobody knows him like I do.
Garrus nodded. He wouldn’t destroy the memory. The decision took some of the weight off his chest, and he flexed his shoulders to try and redistribute the tension. He’d watch; and if it were to become too intimate, too personal, or simply too painful, he’d stop. It was as simple as that, right?
Re: Teardrop [4/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:31:18 UTC
Nihlus took a step forward and clasped his arms around Saren’s collar, nesting his face inside it. Saren returned the gesture with a delay, and relaxed into the contact only after several long breaths, breaths Garrus counted, for they were his own.
“Why can’t I see more of you?” said Nihlus, lifting his head and brushing his cheek against Saren’s. “Why can’t we set up some arrangement, you know? When we’re…”
“Nihlus.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m being silly. But a man can dream, right?”
“Tonight we dream together.”
Garrus felt his heart skip a beat. To hear the notes of such gentle devotion from someone he regarded primarily as a monster, was deeply disturbing. It had been a long, long time since he had last thought of Saren as of a man, a turian like himself, like himself in more ways than he cared to admit. Was it possible that his ice-cold Spectre persona was no more than an elaborate mask? The kind he himself put on for Shepard when she’d start moralizing? A chain of shivers went between his plates.
But now Saren disengaged from the hug and observed Nihlus at arm’s length. Nihlus was also wearing civies - a black and gray sporty outfit, greatly complimenting his sculpted curves. Saren ran a hand down his chest. “Something to eat? Drink?”
“Water?”
Saren gestured towards the kitchen counter and Nihlus went over. “Haha, an old friend,” he said, turning to lift a decanter full to spilling in a little toast. He drank from it directly. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I was here.”
“Six months, to the day.”
Nihlus chuckled. “Just off the top of your head, eh?” He looked about the room. “Looks exactly the same as always.”
“Not the same.”
“Yeah?”
Saren sighed, shook his head slightly. “She’s an old lady. The torpedo launchers are acting up. So is the life support. And the navigation sub-cluster.” His back was turned to the camera, but Garrus was almost certain that Saren was smiling. “She only flies straight when you’re onboard.”
“Yeah,” Nihlus smiled in reply. “She always did like me better than you. Remember that time when we needed to plot a course through a globular cluster? With like, two hundred waypoints and scheduled corrections? Spirits, that was one fucked up night in FTL. I sat up until 4 am and then you sent me to bed but when I closed my eyes I could still see stars, fucking stars everywhere, and I couldn’t sleep.”
“Called you back an hour later. As soon as you left, the number of required adjustments doubled.”
“Haha, that’s right. Can’t remember where it was. Iris 34? Could be… that one’s just above the galactic plane. Hierarchy space?”
“Trying to get ahead of a transport full of minagen bound for Credo. Taking a shortcut. Your idea.”
“Aww, come on. It was fun. Or at least it’s fun to remember it now. And it was one of the few missions when we weren’t at each other’s throats.”
“Agreed. A good memory.”
Nihlus put the decanter down; he’d drunk more than half of the water. He took off his jacket, let it drop on the floor, and stepped into Saren’s personal space again. “Let’s make another one.”
Re: Teardrop [5/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:34:42 UTC
Saren allowed Nihlus to cup his cheek, and after a momentary hesitation, leaned into it. Nihlus pressed close, then, and their foreheads touched. The unnamable mixture of envy, embarrassment, sadness and arousal stirred within Garrus again. He had been with many men and women during his career as both a soldier and a cop, but he had never done… that. He frowned at yet another spike in his heart rate displayed shamelessly on his visor. It felt incredibly wrong to watch, but it was infinitely more wrong to be turned on by it. And yet, there he was.
They seemed to kiss, the way asari do, more or less. Foreheads still locked together, they appeared to be touching tongues and nibbling lips. The sounds of their breathing slowly became discernible, and then prevalent over the omnipresent hum of the equipment, which now dropped below the sensory threshold. Deep, accelerating breathing lined with nascent mating subvocalizations, even though they were doing nothing other than standing there, tasting each other. Garrus wished he could see more; he caught himself arching his neck for better perspective. Ridiculous. But nobody was laughing.
Nihlus started removing Saren’s clothes and in response, Saren’s hands closed around his waist, tugging on the light fabric. He made an opening, slid a hand under, and Garrus could see with bitter-sweet clarity how Nihlus trembled at the touch, pushing ever closer, hips first, into Saren’s motionless body. The robe fell off to reveal a thin, almost translucent underweave. Garrus squinted at the vid and closed in to see better; some… things were shining along Saren’s spine in familiar shades of tainted blue.
And now that Nihlus caressed Saren’s back from just under the fringe, down the neck and lower, he seemed to notice it too.
“Saren?” he said, examining the things through the thin textile of the underweave. “What’s this?”
Much to Garrus’s surprise, Saren let out a deep sigh and lowered his head on Nihlus’s shoulder.
“New amp slots?” said Nihlus. “Spirits, Saren. Let me see.” With that, he undid the seal of the overall, running the length of the chest, Saren’s head still resting on his shoulder. The underweave pooled around their feet, revealing Saren’s naked body. Garrus scrutinized it with morbid fascination, irritated that he could only see the back. Nowhere nearly as well proportioned as Nihlus, Saren was heavy-set in the shoulders, with narrow hips and a supportive waist; the genetic anomalies apparently extended well below the “valluvian horns” and were visible in the shape and inclination of his collar and the muscle-ridges on his back. Far from anything Garrus would call handsome, but interesting; definitely interesting. Also, these were observations he could conceivably think of as “useful.” It made watching a bit easier.
Now Nihlus turned Saren around. The obedience, the silent submission, left Garrus gaping at the console, but he managed to rationalize it by studying the still more obvious genetic anomalies in the shape of the sternum and the strange absence of pigmentation along the front muscle cords as Saren turned to face the camera. Thank the Spirits, he was still closed; though there was a dark seam between his pubic plates that could not escape the eye of an ex detective. He had unusually strong legs, sculpted muscles and long spurs. No, definitely nothing Garrus would normally consider attractive… but Nihlus’s hungry attentions made Saren look like the pick of the Primarch’s vault.
Re: Teardrop [6/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:37:38 UTC
Nihlus was studying Saren’s back; looking, touching, frowning. “I don’t get it. Why do you need more? I mean, I don’t know the first thing about biotics, but even I know the effects of amps don’t add up like that.”
“Don’t need them.” Nihlus wasn’t in position to see it, but Saren closed his eyes. “They are redundant. Can be linked externally to form a basic bio-feedback loop.”
“How about you translate that to the idiot language for me.”
Saren’s face, still hidden from Nihlus, became a study of singular focus, as if he was investing a great effort into... what, exactly? Again, Garrus leaned forward to watch more closely. He noticed that Saren was clawing into his palms. “It’s a prototype. Should allow me to use… alternative energy sources for biotics.”
Nihlus lifted his head, staring at the back of Saren’s. “Alternative.”
“Muscle proteins. Fatty tissue.”
“You’re telling me that you can use these things to… eat yourself?”
A faint smile ghosted over Saren’s features, eyes still firmly shut. “Essentially… yes.”
“Spirits, Saren. That’s downright crazy.”
“Is it? Crazier that drinking yourself to the brink of death? Or being unable to function without stims? You do realize that, when you’re drunk, the membranes of your brain cells are actually dissolved? That when you take stims, you alter the metabolism of almost all the energents in your body? You’re quick to judge for one so slow to understand.”
Nihlus waved his head, unfazed by the lecture. “Do they…” He swallowed. “Do they hurt?”
“Sometimes.” Saren’s frown deepened, and Garrus was alarmed to discover he was… actually feeling for him. There was no way to tell if the amplifier slots in question were really just some prototype he’d picked up as a part of regular Spectre business or “improvements” forced by the Reaper, Sovereign. It was more than likely that Saren had already been partly indoctrinated at the time of the vid, five years ago. A wave of shivers ran through Garrus. Nihlus had no idea. Blind trust. Rewarded with death. No. No feeling for Saren. The son of a bitch killed his friend and lover in cold blood, and for that, even if there was nothing else, Garrus would see him pay.
His frown deepened as well, but now Nihlus sighed and gently pulled back the cowl from Saren’s head. Traced a pattern of careful, feather-light touches along the back of his neck and behind the jaws, and blue sparks lit up to connect with his talon-tips. Saren seemed to like this; his face relaxed into the usual absence of expression, and he allowed his head to roll back. Nihlus embraced him, nuzzled into his cheek from behind, then ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the horn. A low rumble escaped Saren’s throat, entering a hot resonance with Garrus’s vocal cavity. The feeling of wrongness returned, redoubled in intensity, for now there was also a definite sensation of moisture under his plates. The way Saren surrendered to Nihlus’s expert ministrations, the way he suddenly seemed unsure on his feet, melting in the heat of that incredibly sensual body, rang so close, so true, so familiar, that Garrus sensed it all over his body as well, a mellow haze carried on sweet, dirty whispers.
Re: Teardrop [7/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:42:48 UTC
“Spirits, how I love your taste,” Nihlus breathed, taking the tip of the horn into his mouth and sucking on it in a slow, dazed rhythm. The sounds of breathing, long, violent exhales, filled the cabin of the Mako and Garrus realized with dismay that they belonged to him. Saren was rumbling in quiet tones of seduction, turning his head to allow, no, to demand that the same attention be given to the tips of his fringe-blades. Nihlus let go of the horn with a grunt of reluctance, but complied. He gave each blade a long, teasing lick starting on the back of the head and ending at the top, where he’d pause to suck on the tip. But then his hands went down Saren’s chest and waist and between his legs, thumbs tracing the edges of the growing seam. Saren’s rumbling turned into a low-pitched moan, and Garrus sat up straight, struggling against his own arousal. Little good did that do; he could see everything, every confident motion of Nihlus’s thumbs as he coaxed Saren into opening up for him. Saren seemed to enjoy the game of holding back as much as the next turian; he only gave in when Nihlus had tasted every blade in his fringe closing the circle with the other horn, and finally bit into the curve of his neck just behind the jaw.
Saren arched his head back and let out a long, ragged, “Mmmhh.” Nihlus exhaled through his nose, taking him in both hands, one fisted above the other, and the slick sounds made Garrus gasp for air.
Nihlus kept at it for a short time, still holding Saren’s neck between his teeth. But then Saren lowered his hands over Nihlus’s, and said, “Slow down.” Garrus swallowed hard. Yeah. Good idea. Let us all slow down a bit. Suddenly he became aware of his surroundings and the passage of time and turned around in a sudden fit of panic: what if someone was to come knocking right now? It was a sobering thought. He paused the vid, scrolled to the controls for the Mako and locked himself in. Lowered the covers over all viewports. Streamed the audio to his earpiece and muted the console. There. Better. A little bit.
The feeling of utter impropriety ate at him from his guts, and at the same time, there was no denying his excitement. Yet somehow it seemed sick to get off watching none other than Saren. Watching Nihlus, that was fine; that was understandable. Nihlus had been a walking aphrodisiac. But Saren… Garrus wondered if he would see him differently the next time, for there would certainly be a next time, and probably soon. Would sharing in this intimate moment serve to strengthen his resolve or weaken it?
Too far gone to turn back now.
He resumed the vid.
Saren slithered away from the grasp and turned to disrobe Nihlus. He wasn’t too gentle about it; after several impatient tugs, Garrus thought he heard the sound of fabric ripping. “Ooooh, someone’s horny,” Nihlus smiled, but his voice was deep and throbbing with desire.
“Shut up.”
“You don’t mean that.” The last scraps of clothing fell away and Nihlus stood naked and exposed to Garrus’s hungry stare. “You like it when I talk dirty.”
“Then talk dirty,” Saren rasped, running greedy fingers over the intricate markings freshly colored across Nihlus’s wide chest.
“Make me.”
Saren took the challenge. Suddenly his hands were everywhere, touching everything, running down Nihlus’s arms, shoulders and back, and finally lower, pushing his legs apart. Nihlus stifled a low moan, allowed himself to be pushed, step by slow step, until Saren had him pinned against the kitchen counter, ravishing his neck and chin. Nihlus gripped the edge of the counter to support himself as Saren pushed his hands low behind. Garrus couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, but judging from the blissful abandon on Nihlus’s face, whatever it was, it felt great.
“That’s more like it,” Saren muttered, then delivered a juicy lap from the nape of Nihlus’s neck all the way to the back of his fringe. He nipped on the closest fringe-blade, and Garrus saw Nihlus’s hips shoot forward in excitation.
“You’re a dirty old man,” Nihlus croaked, then laughed a breathless little laugh.
“I am not. I never talk dirty.”
“I’ll make you talk dirty.”
Saren nuzzled against his cheek and whispered, “I’d like to see you try.”
Re: Teardrop [8/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:45:29 UTC
But before Nihlus could attempt the feat, Saren slid down on his knees and ran his tongue along the seam of Nihlus’s pubic plates. Nihlus sucked in a ragged breath, looking down.
“Open for me, Nihlus.”
“Mmmhh… why should I?”
Now he was apparently very good in the holding-back game.
Saren ran his sharp talontips down his lower belly, over the plates and along the inner thighs, making Nihlus writhe and pant, but he remained closed. “Because I’m asking nicely?”
“Don’t ask… tell me… mmm. Tell me what you want.”
Saren licked between the plates again, and Nihlus propped himself on his toetips, but did not yield. “I want you… to open up.”
Garrus smiled. Saren was good. But Nihlus was better. He laughed, half of it rolling on his irresistible mating subharmonics. “And then…?”
There was no escaping it now. Garrus held his breath as Saren placed his hands on Nihlus’s hips and looked up. He was completely serious. Completely open, and not just in the pubic region. “I want you inside me.”
The playful smile waned from Nihlus’s face, a moan escaping on a deep breath, then another. They stared in each other’s eyes, and when Saren ran his tongue along the seam this time, it spread open. He took Nihlus into his mouth in one smooth, practiced motion, never breaking eye contact. Every breath was a moan now, and Garrus found it difficult to keep his own deprived vocalizations suppressed.
Saren must have swallowed, for his face was buried in the soft skin of Nihlus’s trembling stomach. Nihlus lowered one hand from the counter, the other flexing to support a part of his weight and Garrus could understand, yes he could, his knees were the first to go too. Nihlus caressed Saren’s fringe, then took him by the back of his head and started rocking in a slow, gentle rhythm.
“Spirits… Spirits… ah… ah… told you… I’d make you… mmmh.”
Words got lost in the rumbling. Garrus tried to swallow but his throat was completely dry because he’d been breathing through his mouth and hadn’t even noticed. “Shit,” he whispered to himself.
Nihlus picked up the pace, accelerating degree by tantalizing degree, but his movements were still very gentle, strictly controlled, his white-hot ahs and ohs following every shallow thrust until he could stand it no longer. He took Saren’s face in both hands now, and moved to pull out. “Come here.”
Saren let go, reluctantly, then licked Nihlus clean and stood up, leaving a trail of ticklish laps along the entire length of Nihlus’s stomach and chest and finally neck and chin. “Nihlus,” he rumbled, then they pressed foreheads together again, wrenching at Garrus’s guts. He could see it all now, how they pushed into each other, face, chest, hips and all, conquered by an instinct no turian could ever deny: to belong, to connect, to make a whole and become one. To bond, for life.
They were rubbing together, and their tongues lavished one another, and their arms went around shoulders and collars and their legs got desperately entangled.
“Shit,” Garrus whispered again, and paused the video, for it had become unbearable.
Re: Teardrop [9/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:53:45 UTC
He sat there, breathing, thinking, for more than a few minutes, looking from the paused video, over the Mako controls, over the fake leather on the seats - it was already peeling off - over his knees that were jerking from a time to time ever so slightly, as if he were freezing, up to his hands, resolutely crossed on his chest, and back to the video. The whirlpool of ill-defined feelings inside him crystallized mostly into a vague sensation of sickness. And then there was the sad, yet undeniable erection that just wouldn’t go away despite the fat lump in his dry throat.
Strange thoughts flashed through his mind. Pathetic attempts to rationalize what he was doing, or at least give it some semblance of a healthy emotional foundation.
Surely Nihlus wouldn’t mind one of what must have been an army of one-night-stands getting off at the sight of his lovemaking. For to call it any other name would have been cowardice. It was clear that these two had pledged themselves to one another. I’m doing this for Nihlus. Yes. He deserves to have a witness, to have someone to testify to their love.
But the mirror image of the notion was so disturbing he was afraid to spell it out even in the privacy of his own mind. The notion that… Saren deserved it. To have a witness. To have someone to testify that he too was a man, a man with a heart, a heart that knew love. A notion not only disturbing but dangerous, it was fucking dangerous to grow feelings for the enemy now that it was all going to hell anyway and over what? He glanced at the status bar under the video. Over these fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes of sexy footage?
Of which only five remained.
Garrus was many things, but he wasn’t a coward. He played it again.
Re: Teardrop [10/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:57:27 UTC
“Tell me, Saren,” Nihlus breathed. “Tell me what you want.”
In the way of answer, Saren slid a hand down, and around them both, and with each stroke, touched the tip of Nihlus’s tongue with his own. It was an effective way to shut Nihlus up, but soon it became too much and he pushed Saren by the shoulders. “Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me or I’ll come right now.”
Saren’s mandibles flicked in a smile and he let go. “Unacceptable,” he whispered.
“Come on, Saren,” Nihlus said between kissing Saren’s mouth and chin. “Can’t you just… tell me?”
“You know what I want.”
Again they became entangled in an embrace that could physically get closer only by that one ultimate increment.
“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”
“Why?”
“It turns me on,” Nihlus exhaled. “Feel that?”
“Mmmh. Yes.”
“It’s what happens when I imagine you say it.”
“Fine,” Saren said, moving away a bit so that he could look into Nihlus’s face. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Nihlus was watching him in anticipation. Finally Saren huffed. “I can’t.”
Nihlus laughed. “Sure you can. Let’s start with something familiar. Say: fuck you, Nihlus.”
The way he said fuck with a juicy, pregnant flick of the tongue made Garrus twitch. His heart was hammering.
“Fuck you, Nihlus,” Saren repeated in a deep, rusty voice.
“Again.”
“Fuck you.”
“And now say, fuck me, Nihlus.” His voice went all the way down into the lowest register and was barely audible. Personal, Garrus thought, too personal! But he was far beyond the point of turning back now.
Saren hesitated. “What if that’s not what I want?”
“Easier then breathing. Just add, I want to…”
“Right. Simple.” Yet his breathing was labored, and face strained in effort. “I…” He cleared his throat, and when the words finally came out of it, they were so loaded with honest to Spirits passion that Garrus bit his tongue. “I want to fuck you, Nihlus.”
“Spirits,” Nihlus moaned, pressing his forehead into Saren’s with an almost tangible urgency, his hips rolling to rub against Saren’s body just so.
“Your turn,” Saren whispered.
“You’ve already heard me say that.”
“Just once. A long time ago.”
There were no more chuckles left in Nihlus. He was trembling with desire. “All right,” he nodded. “All right. I can do that.”
Still, there was a considerable pause very full of breathing, Saren’s breathing, and Nihlus’s breathing, and the loudest of all, Garrus’s breathing.
“Fuck me,” Nihlus whispered at last, and Garrus felt his erection swelling and pulsing in the hot rhythm of the words. “Fuck me, Saren.”
That set off the avalanche. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as Saren turned Nihlus around, moaning over his breath now, and Garrus could relate, oh yes he could, he was never a moaner but he could barely keep it down himself. Saren pushed Nihlus’s legs apart with his own, then bent over him and went inside him, one hand under his chest and holding him close, the other between his legs and griping him tight. He glided deeper, and deeper, and a guttural “mmmmmhhhh!” rolled from his mouth in unison with Nihlus’s more vocal “aaahhhhhh!” as Saren towered above him and finally bit into the soft skin of his neck. He started moving, then, gently at first, nasal moans escaping him in time with the thrusts, his hand stroking Nihlus in the same slowly accelerating rhythm. A rhythm that soon turned moderate, then merciless, and there were no words left in Nihlus either, only the heady unh-unh-unh-unh as Saren pounded into him, growling deeper and deeper, holding him closer and closer. And when Garrus sensed it was nearly over, he abandoned all thoughts and notions and he pressed a hand between his legs with a ragged whimper, just in time to see Nihlus spasm and cry out, and Saren arch his head back with a smothered roar and something quite akin to pain on his silver face; and this once, it was anything but bare.
Re: Teardrop [11/11]
anonymous
January 5 2012, 17:58:46 UTC
Garrus averted his eyes in equal parts shame and exhaustion, but also to allow them some privacy as they disengaged. When he glanced up again, they were leaning on the kitchen counter; this time around, Saren was below, and Nihlus was resting on him, sounds of breathing slowly drowning in the background noise.
“Tell me again why we can’t do this more often?” Nihlus said.
Saren didn’t answer. Instead, he took to caressing Nihlus’s fringe, drawing lazy strokes along the lean, long blades. Two minutes remained of the vid and Garrus was determined to see it to the end, although he was feeling terrible: guilty, dirty, yet undone.
“The worst thing is, I know exactly what you want… don’t want… to say.” Nihlus cleared his throat and then did a pretty good imitation of Saren’s imperious voice: “In this line of work, it’s best to avoid entanglement.”
Garrus smiled a sad smile. Entanglement was risky business in any kind of work. Not that he would know. But perhaps Shepard did. Perhaps she’d just learned the hard way.
As Saren didn’t reply, Nihlus resumed the act. “Nihlus. This is dangerous.” He chuckled, and the happy innocence of the thrill in his voice made Garrus stare up and about so his eyes could dry before something embarrassing happened. “Nihlus. This position isn’t secure.”
If there was some reaction on Saren’s face, it was too subtle for the resolution of the camera. Nihlus laughed. “Nihlus. Shut the fuck up.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Saren muttered. “I don’t talk dirty.”
“Mmhmm.” Nihlus turned to look right in the eye of the camera. Garrus froze. The stare melted him into a shapeless, boneless mass of sadness and regrets. The console on the desk to the side came to life when Nihlus approached it, but before turning the feed off, he got his face into the camera, started to smile, then changed his mind. Instead he shaped three voiceless words, winked, and blinked out of existence.
Re: Teardrop [11/11]
anonymous
January 6 2012, 14:14:32 UTC
Hehe, thank you. :)
And yeah. I'm pretty much your typical attention whore. A bit ashamed of deanoning as the author on that one occasion, but I wasn't fluent with meme etiquette back then. Nowadays I just leave "discrete" links to my ffn. :D
Oh. My. Sweet. Spirits. How do you do that how do you make things incredibly sexy and incredibly tragic at the same time you must teach me master i will forever be in your debt for ever and ever and ever and oh man Garrus was the one who broke my heart because seeing this is so merciless on his emotions and Nihlus was just so sweet and caring i could hug him in a crush or vice versa and Saren
*sobs*
So that's what happened to his corpse, in the end.
Re: OP here
anonymous
January 6 2012, 13:58:34 UTC
The OP has a keen eye and has guessed my intention right. Remember the "new amp slots" in Saren's back? Garrus theorizes that Sovereign put them there and he's right.
My idea is that, on the surface, these implants grant Saren enhanced biotic abilities, through the possibility to tap directly into the energy sources provided by his body. In other words, instead of burning blood sugar for energy, he can burn his own flesh (fatty tissues and muscle protein). I'm guessing it's not something he'd normally do, unless in a terribly fucked up situation. But it's what Sovereign does in the end: burns Saren's flesh and uses the energy to manipulate his dead body.
Ridiculous. The last thing she needed right now was this sort of… this. He’d have to decide for himself. Should he watch, or should he just delete it? Delete the entire series?
Delete what he suspected was evidence of their… love?
Nobody loves him like I do.
Garrus wanted to shake the memory away but found that he couldn’t. Why the fuck did you have to go crazy, you mother-fucking barefaced son of a whore? Even after so many years, he still remembered the solemn respect, the… reverence in Nihlus’s voice when he spoke about Saren.
Professionally we don’t see eye to eye. But there’s this whole other side of him, which is… amazing.
Perhaps… Perhaps the vid could offer insight of another nature. Insight into Saren’s personality. What did any of them really know about him? Other than the fact that he was fighting this indoctrination thing and apparently losing. Other than the fact that he was operating under the illusion, the delusion that he was working in the interest of his people. That was one thing Garrus could not deny him: he had always worked in the interest of the Hierarchy. What if… what if there was still some angle, some approach to take with him and bring him back to… sanity?
His eyes lingered on the smiling dark-skinned face colored in vivacious whites, remembered its warmth, its naked honesty, and found the answer: no. The damage had already been done.
What to do? Damn my soul, why am I so fucking indecisive? He needed direction more than ever. What would Nihlus tell him if he were alive? Garrus scoffed at the fantasy; the few hours of conversation and intimacy they’d had together hardly qualified as “knowing” each other; how the hell could he guess what would Nihlus want?
Nobody knows him like I do.
Garrus nodded. He wouldn’t destroy the memory. The decision took some of the weight off his chest, and he flexed his shoulders to try and redistribute the tension. He’d watch; and if it were to become too intimate, too personal, or simply too painful, he’d stop. It was as simple as that, right?
Right.
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“Why can’t I see more of you?” said Nihlus, lifting his head and brushing his cheek against Saren’s. “Why can’t we set up some arrangement, you know? When we’re…”
“Nihlus.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m being silly. But a man can dream, right?”
“Tonight we dream together.”
Garrus felt his heart skip a beat. To hear the notes of such gentle devotion from someone he regarded primarily as a monster, was deeply disturbing. It had been a long, long time since he had last thought of Saren as of a man, a turian like himself, like himself in more ways than he cared to admit. Was it possible that his ice-cold Spectre persona was no more than an elaborate mask? The kind he himself put on for Shepard when she’d start moralizing? A chain of shivers went between his plates.
But now Saren disengaged from the hug and observed Nihlus at arm’s length. Nihlus was also wearing civies - a black and gray sporty outfit, greatly complimenting his sculpted curves. Saren ran a hand down his chest. “Something to eat? Drink?”
“Water?”
Saren gestured towards the kitchen counter and Nihlus went over. “Haha, an old friend,” he said, turning to lift a decanter full to spilling in a little toast. He drank from it directly. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I was here.”
“Six months, to the day.”
Nihlus chuckled. “Just off the top of your head, eh?” He looked about the room. “Looks exactly the same as always.”
“Not the same.”
“Yeah?”
Saren sighed, shook his head slightly. “She’s an old lady. The torpedo launchers are acting up. So is the life support. And the navigation sub-cluster.” His back was turned to the camera, but Garrus was almost certain that Saren was smiling. “She only flies straight when you’re onboard.”
“Yeah,” Nihlus smiled in reply. “She always did like me better than you. Remember that time when we needed to plot a course through a globular cluster? With like, two hundred waypoints and scheduled corrections? Spirits, that was one fucked up night in FTL. I sat up until 4 am and then you sent me to bed but when I closed my eyes I could still see stars, fucking stars everywhere, and I couldn’t sleep.”
“Called you back an hour later. As soon as you left, the number of required adjustments doubled.”
“Haha, that’s right. Can’t remember where it was. Iris 34? Could be… that one’s just above the galactic plane. Hierarchy space?”
“Trying to get ahead of a transport full of minagen bound for Credo. Taking a shortcut. Your idea.”
“Aww, come on. It was fun. Or at least it’s fun to remember it now. And it was one of the few missions when we weren’t at each other’s throats.”
“Agreed. A good memory.”
Nihlus put the decanter down; he’d drunk more than half of the water. He took off his jacket, let it drop on the floor, and stepped into Saren’s personal space again. “Let’s make another one.”
Garrus swallowed.
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They seemed to kiss, the way asari do, more or less. Foreheads still locked together, they appeared to be touching tongues and nibbling lips. The sounds of their breathing slowly became discernible, and then prevalent over the omnipresent hum of the equipment, which now dropped below the sensory threshold. Deep, accelerating breathing lined with nascent mating subvocalizations, even though they were doing nothing other than standing there, tasting each other. Garrus wished he could see more; he caught himself arching his neck for better perspective. Ridiculous. But nobody was laughing.
Nihlus started removing Saren’s clothes and in response, Saren’s hands closed around his waist, tugging on the light fabric. He made an opening, slid a hand under, and Garrus could see with bitter-sweet clarity how Nihlus trembled at the touch, pushing ever closer, hips first, into Saren’s motionless body. The robe fell off to reveal a thin, almost translucent underweave. Garrus squinted at the vid and closed in to see better; some… things were shining along Saren’s spine in familiar shades of tainted blue.
And now that Nihlus caressed Saren’s back from just under the fringe, down the neck and lower, he seemed to notice it too.
“Saren?” he said, examining the things through the thin textile of the underweave. “What’s this?”
Much to Garrus’s surprise, Saren let out a deep sigh and lowered his head on Nihlus’s shoulder.
“New amp slots?” said Nihlus. “Spirits, Saren. Let me see.” With that, he undid the seal of the overall, running the length of the chest, Saren’s head still resting on his shoulder. The underweave pooled around their feet, revealing Saren’s naked body. Garrus scrutinized it with morbid fascination, irritated that he could only see the back. Nowhere nearly as well proportioned as Nihlus, Saren was heavy-set in the shoulders, with narrow hips and a supportive waist; the genetic anomalies apparently extended well below the “valluvian horns” and were visible in the shape and inclination of his collar and the muscle-ridges on his back. Far from anything Garrus would call handsome, but interesting; definitely interesting. Also, these were observations he could conceivably think of as “useful.” It made watching a bit easier.
Now Nihlus turned Saren around. The obedience, the silent submission, left Garrus gaping at the console, but he managed to rationalize it by studying the still more obvious genetic anomalies in the shape of the sternum and the strange absence of pigmentation along the front muscle cords as Saren turned to face the camera. Thank the Spirits, he was still closed; though there was a dark seam between his pubic plates that could not escape the eye of an ex detective. He had unusually strong legs, sculpted muscles and long spurs. No, definitely nothing Garrus would normally consider attractive… but Nihlus’s hungry attentions made Saren look like the pick of the Primarch’s vault.
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“Don’t need them.” Nihlus wasn’t in position to see it, but Saren closed his eyes. “They are redundant. Can be linked externally to form a basic bio-feedback loop.”
“How about you translate that to the idiot language for me.”
Saren’s face, still hidden from Nihlus, became a study of singular focus, as if he was investing a great effort into... what, exactly? Again, Garrus leaned forward to watch more closely. He noticed that Saren was clawing into his palms. “It’s a prototype. Should allow me to use… alternative energy sources for biotics.”
Nihlus lifted his head, staring at the back of Saren’s. “Alternative.”
“Muscle proteins. Fatty tissue.”
“You’re telling me that you can use these things to… eat yourself?”
A faint smile ghosted over Saren’s features, eyes still firmly shut. “Essentially… yes.”
“Spirits, Saren. That’s downright crazy.”
“Is it? Crazier that drinking yourself to the brink of death? Or being unable to function without stims? You do realize that, when you’re drunk, the membranes of your brain cells are actually dissolved? That when you take stims, you alter the metabolism of almost all the energents in your body? You’re quick to judge for one so slow to understand.”
Nihlus waved his head, unfazed by the lecture. “Do they…” He swallowed. “Do they hurt?”
“Sometimes.” Saren’s frown deepened, and Garrus was alarmed to discover he was… actually feeling for him. There was no way to tell if the amplifier slots in question were really just some prototype he’d picked up as a part of regular Spectre business or “improvements” forced by the Reaper, Sovereign. It was more than likely that Saren had already been partly indoctrinated at the time of the vid, five years ago. A wave of shivers ran through Garrus. Nihlus had no idea. Blind trust. Rewarded with death. No. No feeling for Saren. The son of a bitch killed his friend and lover in cold blood, and for that, even if there was nothing else, Garrus would see him pay.
His frown deepened as well, but now Nihlus sighed and gently pulled back the cowl from Saren’s head. Traced a pattern of careful, feather-light touches along the back of his neck and behind the jaws, and blue sparks lit up to connect with his talon-tips. Saren seemed to like this; his face relaxed into the usual absence of expression, and he allowed his head to roll back. Nihlus embraced him, nuzzled into his cheek from behind, then ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the horn. A low rumble escaped Saren’s throat, entering a hot resonance with Garrus’s vocal cavity. The feeling of wrongness returned, redoubled in intensity, for now there was also a definite sensation of moisture under his plates. The way Saren surrendered to Nihlus’s expert ministrations, the way he suddenly seemed unsure on his feet, melting in the heat of that incredibly sensual body, rang so close, so true, so familiar, that Garrus sensed it all over his body as well, a mellow haze carried on sweet, dirty whispers.
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Saren arched his head back and let out a long, ragged, “Mmmhh.” Nihlus exhaled through his nose, taking him in both hands, one fisted above the other, and the slick sounds made Garrus gasp for air.
Nihlus kept at it for a short time, still holding Saren’s neck between his teeth. But then Saren lowered his hands over Nihlus’s, and said, “Slow down.” Garrus swallowed hard. Yeah. Good idea. Let us all slow down a bit. Suddenly he became aware of his surroundings and the passage of time and turned around in a sudden fit of panic: what if someone was to come knocking right now? It was a sobering thought. He paused the vid, scrolled to the controls for the Mako and locked himself in. Lowered the covers over all viewports. Streamed the audio to his earpiece and muted the console. There. Better. A little bit.
The feeling of utter impropriety ate at him from his guts, and at the same time, there was no denying his excitement. Yet somehow it seemed sick to get off watching none other than Saren. Watching Nihlus, that was fine; that was understandable. Nihlus had been a walking aphrodisiac. But Saren… Garrus wondered if he would see him differently the next time, for there would certainly be a next time, and probably soon. Would sharing in this intimate moment serve to strengthen his resolve or weaken it?
Too far gone to turn back now.
He resumed the vid.
Saren slithered away from the grasp and turned to disrobe Nihlus. He wasn’t too gentle about it; after several impatient tugs, Garrus thought he heard the sound of fabric ripping. “Ooooh, someone’s horny,” Nihlus smiled, but his voice was deep and throbbing with desire.
“Shut up.”
“You don’t mean that.” The last scraps of clothing fell away and Nihlus stood naked and exposed to Garrus’s hungry stare. “You like it when I talk dirty.”
“Then talk dirty,” Saren rasped, running greedy fingers over the intricate markings freshly colored across Nihlus’s wide chest.
“Make me.”
Saren took the challenge. Suddenly his hands were everywhere, touching everything, running down Nihlus’s arms, shoulders and back, and finally lower, pushing his legs apart. Nihlus stifled a low moan, allowed himself to be pushed, step by slow step, until Saren had him pinned against the kitchen counter, ravishing his neck and chin. Nihlus gripped the edge of the counter to support himself as Saren pushed his hands low behind. Garrus couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, but judging from the blissful abandon on Nihlus’s face, whatever it was, it felt great.
“Oh yeah,” Nihlus exhaled. “Oh yeah… Fuck yeah… Ah! Fuck!”
“That’s more like it,” Saren muttered, then delivered a juicy lap from the nape of Nihlus’s neck all the way to the back of his fringe. He nipped on the closest fringe-blade, and Garrus saw Nihlus’s hips shoot forward in excitation.
“You’re a dirty old man,” Nihlus croaked, then laughed a breathless little laugh.
“I am not. I never talk dirty.”
“I’ll make you talk dirty.”
Saren nuzzled against his cheek and whispered, “I’d like to see you try.”
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“Open for me, Nihlus.”
“Mmmhh… why should I?”
Now he was apparently very good in the holding-back game.
Saren ran his sharp talontips down his lower belly, over the plates and along the inner thighs, making Nihlus writhe and pant, but he remained closed. “Because I’m asking nicely?”
“Don’t ask… tell me… mmm. Tell me what you want.”
Saren licked between the plates again, and Nihlus propped himself on his toetips, but did not yield. “I want you… to open up.”
Garrus smiled. Saren was good. But Nihlus was better. He laughed, half of it rolling on his irresistible mating subharmonics. “And then…?”
There was no escaping it now. Garrus held his breath as Saren placed his hands on Nihlus’s hips and looked up. He was completely serious. Completely open, and not just in the pubic region. “I want you inside me.”
The playful smile waned from Nihlus’s face, a moan escaping on a deep breath, then another. They stared in each other’s eyes, and when Saren ran his tongue along the seam this time, it spread open. He took Nihlus into his mouth in one smooth, practiced motion, never breaking eye contact. Every breath was a moan now, and Garrus found it difficult to keep his own deprived vocalizations suppressed.
Saren must have swallowed, for his face was buried in the soft skin of Nihlus’s trembling stomach. Nihlus lowered one hand from the counter, the other flexing to support a part of his weight and Garrus could understand, yes he could, his knees were the first to go too. Nihlus caressed Saren’s fringe, then took him by the back of his head and started rocking in a slow, gentle rhythm.
“Spirits… Spirits… ah… ah… told you… I’d make you… mmmh.”
Words got lost in the rumbling. Garrus tried to swallow but his throat was completely dry because he’d been breathing through his mouth and hadn’t even noticed. “Shit,” he whispered to himself.
Nihlus picked up the pace, accelerating degree by tantalizing degree, but his movements were still very gentle, strictly controlled, his white-hot ahs and ohs following every shallow thrust until he could stand it no longer. He took Saren’s face in both hands now, and moved to pull out. “Come here.”
Saren let go, reluctantly, then licked Nihlus clean and stood up, leaving a trail of ticklish laps along the entire length of Nihlus’s stomach and chest and finally neck and chin. “Nihlus,” he rumbled, then they pressed foreheads together again, wrenching at Garrus’s guts. He could see it all now, how they pushed into each other, face, chest, hips and all, conquered by an instinct no turian could ever deny: to belong, to connect, to make a whole and become one. To bond, for life.
They were rubbing together, and their tongues lavished one another, and their arms went around shoulders and collars and their legs got desperately entangled.
“Shit,” Garrus whispered again, and paused the video, for it had become unbearable.
They were perfect.
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Strange thoughts flashed through his mind. Pathetic attempts to rationalize what he was doing, or at least give it some semblance of a healthy emotional foundation.
Surely Nihlus wouldn’t mind one of what must have been an army of one-night-stands getting off at the sight of his lovemaking. For to call it any other name would have been cowardice. It was clear that these two had pledged themselves to one another. I’m doing this for Nihlus. Yes. He deserves to have a witness, to have someone to testify to their love.
But the mirror image of the notion was so disturbing he was afraid to spell it out even in the privacy of his own mind. The notion that… Saren deserved it. To have a witness. To have someone to testify that he too was a man, a man with a heart, a heart that knew love. A notion not only disturbing but dangerous, it was fucking dangerous to grow feelings for the enemy now that it was all going to hell anyway and over what? He glanced at the status bar under the video. Over these fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes of sexy footage?
Of which only five remained.
Garrus was many things, but he wasn’t a coward. He played it again.
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In the way of answer, Saren slid a hand down, and around them both, and with each stroke, touched the tip of Nihlus’s tongue with his own. It was an effective way to shut Nihlus up, but soon it became too much and he pushed Saren by the shoulders. “Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me or I’ll come right now.”
Saren’s mandibles flicked in a smile and he let go. “Unacceptable,” he whispered.
“Come on, Saren,” Nihlus said between kissing Saren’s mouth and chin. “Can’t you just… tell me?”
“You know what I want.”
Again they became entangled in an embrace that could physically get closer only by that one ultimate increment.
“Yeah, but I want to hear it.”
“Why?”
“It turns me on,” Nihlus exhaled. “Feel that?”
“Mmmh. Yes.”
“It’s what happens when I imagine you say it.”
“Fine,” Saren said, moving away a bit so that he could look into Nihlus’s face. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Nihlus was watching him in anticipation. Finally Saren huffed. “I can’t.”
Nihlus laughed. “Sure you can. Let’s start with something familiar. Say: fuck you, Nihlus.”
The way he said fuck with a juicy, pregnant flick of the tongue made Garrus twitch. His heart was hammering.
“Fuck you, Nihlus,” Saren repeated in a deep, rusty voice.
“Again.”
“Fuck you.”
“And now say, fuck me, Nihlus.” His voice went all the way down into the lowest register and was barely audible. Personal, Garrus thought, too personal! But he was far beyond the point of turning back now.
Saren hesitated. “What if that’s not what I want?”
“Easier then breathing. Just add, I want to…”
“Right. Simple.” Yet his breathing was labored, and face strained in effort. “I…” He cleared his throat, and when the words finally came out of it, they were so loaded with honest to Spirits passion that Garrus bit his tongue. “I want to fuck you, Nihlus.”
“Spirits,” Nihlus moaned, pressing his forehead into Saren’s with an almost tangible urgency, his hips rolling to rub against Saren’s body just so.
“Your turn,” Saren whispered.
“You’ve already heard me say that.”
“Just once. A long time ago.”
There were no more chuckles left in Nihlus. He was trembling with desire. “All right,” he nodded. “All right. I can do that.”
Still, there was a considerable pause very full of breathing, Saren’s breathing, and Nihlus’s breathing, and the loudest of all, Garrus’s breathing.
“Fuck me,” Nihlus whispered at last, and Garrus felt his erection swelling and pulsing in the hot rhythm of the words. “Fuck me, Saren.”
That set off the avalanche. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as Saren turned Nihlus around, moaning over his breath now, and Garrus could relate, oh yes he could, he was never a moaner but he could barely keep it down himself. Saren pushed Nihlus’s legs apart with his own, then bent over him and went inside him, one hand under his chest and holding him close, the other between his legs and griping him tight. He glided deeper, and deeper, and a guttural “mmmmmhhhh!” rolled from his mouth in unison with Nihlus’s more vocal “aaahhhhhh!” as Saren towered above him and finally bit into the soft skin of his neck. He started moving, then, gently at first, nasal moans escaping him in time with the thrusts, his hand stroking Nihlus in the same slowly accelerating rhythm. A rhythm that soon turned moderate, then merciless, and there were no words left in Nihlus either, only the heady unh-unh-unh-unh as Saren pounded into him, growling deeper and deeper, holding him closer and closer. And when Garrus sensed it was nearly over, he abandoned all thoughts and notions and he pressed a hand between his legs with a ragged whimper, just in time to see Nihlus spasm and cry out, and Saren arch his head back with a smothered roar and something quite akin to pain on his silver face; and this once, it was anything but bare.
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“Tell me again why we can’t do this more often?” Nihlus said.
Saren didn’t answer. Instead, he took to caressing Nihlus’s fringe, drawing lazy strokes along the lean, long blades. Two minutes remained of the vid and Garrus was determined to see it to the end, although he was feeling terrible: guilty, dirty, yet undone.
“The worst thing is, I know exactly what you want… don’t want… to say.” Nihlus cleared his throat and then did a pretty good imitation of Saren’s imperious voice: “In this line of work, it’s best to avoid entanglement.”
Garrus smiled a sad smile. Entanglement was risky business in any kind of work. Not that he would know. But perhaps Shepard did. Perhaps she’d just learned the hard way.
As Saren didn’t reply, Nihlus resumed the act. “Nihlus. This is dangerous.” He chuckled, and the happy innocence of the thrill in his voice made Garrus stare up and about so his eyes could dry before something embarrassing happened. “Nihlus. This position isn’t secure.”
If there was some reaction on Saren’s face, it was too subtle for the resolution of the camera. Nihlus laughed. “Nihlus. Shut the fuck up.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Saren muttered. “I don’t talk dirty.”
“Mmhmm.” Nihlus turned to look right in the eye of the camera. Garrus froze. The stare melted him into a shapeless, boneless mass of sadness and regrets. The console on the desk to the side came to life when Nihlus approached it, but before turning the feed off, he got his face into the camera, started to smile, then changed his mind. Instead he shaped three voiceless words, winked, and blinked out of existence.
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Bawling like a baby here.
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And yeah. I'm pretty much your typical attention whore. A bit ashamed of deanoning as the author on that one occasion, but I wasn't fluent with meme etiquette back then. Nowadays I just leave "discrete" links to my ffn. :D
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My.
Sweet.
Spirits.
How do you do that how do you make things incredibly sexy and incredibly tragic at the same time you must teach me master i will forever be in your debt for ever and ever and ever and oh man Garrus was the one who broke my heart because seeing this is so merciless on his emotions and Nihlus was just so sweet and caring i could hug him in a crush or vice versa and Saren
*sobs*
So that's what happened to his corpse, in the end.
I... think I may love you, dear author anon.
~OP
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His...corpse? whut?
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My idea is that, on the surface, these implants grant Saren enhanced biotic abilities, through the possibility to tap directly into the energy sources provided by his body. In other words, instead of burning blood sugar for energy, he can burn his own flesh (fatty tissues and muscle protein). I'm guessing it's not something he'd normally do, unless in a terribly fucked up situation. But it's what Sovereign does in the end: burns Saren's flesh and uses the energy to manipulate his dead body.
Yeah. Fucking Reapers.
PS: Thanks for reading and discussing. :)
~AA
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