#I've been staring at his face for 9 hours on my tablet screen

[valka-arialitan]

Night out at the Afterlife

My chaotic ME2 trio 🫶

Chaos bonus under the cut.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '19 Prompt No. 9 — "There is a certain taste to it."

Category: Original WIP: The Darkspace Portent series Rating: M Timeline: anytime after Rebirth CW: Sexual conversation and implication throughout pretty much the entire thing lol Word Count: 961 Additional Notes: as were and will be all of the ninth fictober pieces fall on my birthday so I just take as many liberties as I like for them

***

"What do I taste like?"

Thrive lifted his eyes from the tablet resting on his knee to offer Warren a look of cautious questioning. "In reference to…?"

Warren, depositing a spoonful of cereal from his mug into his mouth, reclined in his seat, propping his feet up in the comm console and avoiding pressing any buttons that could cause this conversation to be broadcast out into the rest of the ship. He knew an odd question would pull Thrive out of his impenetrable concentration and he nearly pat himself on the back for succeeding. "In reference to…things you've experienced. Certain favors you've done for me." A grin of mild modesty dawned on his face along with twinges of heat. He tapped the spoon with his teeth. "You know."

Thrive carefully turned his chair so he faced Warren, the hint of inquiry now full-blown suspicion if his narrowed eyes were any indication. "…Are you asking me what your semen tastes like?"

The emptiness of the bridge dropped into Warren's bones like a rapid ascent from the bottom of the ocean. He cleared his throat around the next spoonful he chewed with difficulty. "I don't know what I expected just then, but it probably should've been exactly what you just said."

"Don't be ashamed of your curiosity. We're both adults of our respective species," Thrive said, a tad too sly in his tone and the way he looked at Warren with an impish smile far out of character. He scrolled through the tablet and shrugged a shoulder. "There is a certain taste to it."

"Not that you'd have a frame of reference, right?"

"Precisely. I will say, however, that it's distinctly��you."

"Probably a really weird concept to an alien, I bet."

Again, Thrive shrugged. "It's truthfully not the most outlandish form of relaying passion or devotion I've ever witnessed. And do you or do you not have species of animals on Earth that end reproduction with exploding genitalia?"

Warren chuckled. "Damn. You right."

"Why did you think to ask me something like that?"

Stirring the chunks of bland chocolate and powdered sugar rings in the milk, Warren flushed a bit at the ears. "Been thinking about it."

"Mm," Thrive hummed. "I'm sensing an approaching retreat."

"What's up?"

"The conversation has a tendency to turn very blue when you're close to needing personal time with me."

"Wow, no verbal blunt force trauma this time? You feelin' okay?"

"Am I wrong?"

Warren looked at him for a moment, taking in the black form suit with the silver zipper that ran from the top of the collar to the very center of his abdomen. The ring that determined that zipper's fate dangled from his throat, oblivious, every so often catching the dimmed light of the bridge and the much brighter console. Thrive himself either didn't notice him staring or pretended not to notice, switching his attention from the tablet to the volumetric navigation screen casting a golden glow on his face and shoulders.

"No," Warren said, the spoon lingering around his lips. "You're definitely not wrong."

"Would you like to try it?"

A beat passed. "…Try…what?"

Thrive looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, sending a bolt of heat directly into the pit of his gut.

Warren bit his lip. "I mean…I guess I'm kinda curious?"

"Right," Thrive said, perching the tablet on top of the console. "This vessel can operate on autopilot for an hour before needing authorization to continue, so—"

"Let's do it here."

Thrive regarded him with mild surprise. "…Oh?"

Grinning again, Warren nodded. "Yeah, man. Lock the door."

Elsewhere on the ship, a game of ancient chess between Guetry and Scotty grew into an intense standoff, one move away from total obliteration on Guetry's part, and he tapped the board with the bottom of the black queen. He examined the arrangement of pieces, formulating each possible move in his mind, coming to the frustrating conclusion that playing against an AI was definitely as futile as it's always been portrayed to be.

"Do you possess the courage to take that chance?" Scotty quipped via Guetry's wrist device. "You may not last as long as you're expecting."

"Yeah, shut up," Guetry grunted. "I'm trying to save face here."

"The bridge has been locked down."

"Wow, breaking news." Guetry scooted the piece across the board, visualizing the same moves he'd gone over several times in an attempt to find one he didn't think about. "Could you maybe let me win once? Is that too much to ask?"

"Would that carry the same weight of winning because you bested me in earnest?"

Guetry snorted. "I don't know, dude. I'm already dumb enough, I don't need to get my ass absolutely whupped at this every damn time."

"I apologize."

"It's not your fault, I should know better than..." He paused, his frown deepening. He glanced at the discarded chess pieces on the surface of the table. "…The bridge is locked?"

"Correct."

"Is someone in there?"

"I estimate two people."

"Oh, okay. That's not a big deal." Guetry instantly slammed the piece down on the board, sending Scotty's valid pieces flying. "Wait. Hold on. Stop talking. Shut up."

"That would require me to have been talking in the first place."

"Warren was up there on bridge duty, right? With the obhelian? Did they leave?"

"They did not."

"Yeah." Guetry cracked his knuckles in agitation. "My shift's in like, an hour and a half and I'm just gonna be thinking about what they're doing in there."

"Is that a problem?"

Guetry sighed. "I just didn't think Warren would ever be okay with having sex on the bridge. I'm gonna have to rewrite a lot of my fanfiction now."

He tossed the queen into the wall and crossed his arms.