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dearophelia · 4 years ago

Text

there is an indentation in the shape of you

long live :: knight of cups :: there is an indentation in the shape of you

testing reach and flexibility for the first time. rated m for some nudity, but we fade to black before the fun stuff; godspeed to me and my notifications after the bots get hold of some search terms in this post

Olivia realizes, as she leaves the battery slightly mortified that she actually said we can test your reach and my flexibility, that she doesn't know how to do this.

Sex, yes. Well, sex with turians, no, but she has a few people she can ask and, failing that, the extranet's sure to have porn she can get the basic ideas from. So she can figure out the sex.

But after she’s just laid an immensely cheesy line onto her friend and propositioned him – and after said friend had stumbled surprisingly toward agreeing with her – how does she initiate the encounter? An email: You are cordially invited this Saturday to Commander Shepard's quarters for sex and light drinks. Or, and she's not sure if this is actually worse, a text: wanna bang? 😉

Fortunately, there’s a bit of a distraction with Miranda’s sister. Then, few days later, Garrus handles it. A text: Dinner? And research?

She quickly sends back an affirmative and feels herself relax just the smallest bit. Unfortunately, when the night arrives, she’s lost track of time with her own research and is in the middle of watching an impressive climax scene when her doorbell beeps. Rubbing her eyes – as if that could reset her short term memory away from porn – she pauses the video. Then she closes it, closes the program, and mutes and restarts her terminal for good measure before she lets Garrus in.

She smiles up at him. Something about Garrus always sets her at ease. As promised, he's brought dinner for both of them. He hands her an OSD. Olivia steps aside, gesturing for him to set up on the table.

His talons brush across her hip as he passes, a touch far too specific to be an accident. Delightful sparks shiver up her spine. She plugs the OSD into the wall and the fish tank fades opaque, turning into a screen. His file directory automatically pops up. Olivia feels a rush of heat to her cheeks.

Garrus is very, very organized with his media files. And he's been descriptive. Her cheeks get hotter and she’s glad for the relatively dim light of her quarters.

"I, uh," he says, "was doing some research and it turns out you and I are different enough that doing the research together seemed wise." He pats the seat beside him. "Sit, eat."

Olivia sits beside him. He's even brought wine. It's enough to distract her, for the moment, from the fact that there are several gigabytes of porn listed on her fish tank.

***

She raises her eyebrows. The woman on the screen is moaning her head off, but all Olivia can think about is chafing: as the woman bounces up and down, her inner thighs scrape against her turian partner's hips with each bounce. Nothing about the man's position looks pleasant either: his back is curved at a strange angle and his leg spurs push flat against the bed.

Their research stopped being arousing about fifteen minutes ago.

Glancing up at Garrus, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. He looks horrified.

"Okay," she says, pausing the video. It freezes with both actors' faces contorted into unfortunate expressions. She turns off the screen entirely and, though it's been really nice cuddled into his side with his arm around her shoulders, slips out from underneath his arm.

Garrus looks at her and tilts his head.

She slides one leg over his and settles into his lap. The position immediately brings her to eye level with him. She smiles. "How about some hands on research?" Olivia suggests.

His mandibles flicker and Garrus nods. "Yeah," he says, setting his hands on her hips, "sure."

Olivia rests her hands on his shoulders and leans in to kiss him. She pauses. "Do turians kiss?" She should've looked that up. Vids have been nonspecific about it.

"Not really," he says. Her shirt's ridden up a bit and his fingers gently brush against the bare skin of her lower back.

Doing her best to ignore the way Garrus is trailing his fingers over her waist and hips, and instead focus on her inquiry, she purses her lips. "Is there an equivalent?"

"Shepard," he says. He's not even pretending now and boldly pushes her shirt up a little, getting at the very sensitive skin of her lower spine.

She feels a quiet whine start in the back of her throat, but she swallows it down. She also makes a great effort to steady her hips and not grind down on his surprisingly-comfortable lap. Get a hold of yourself, Olivia. It's been a while, but that's no reason to dry hump your friend. "I'm just trying – ” she doesn't know what she's trying, honestly.

Trying to make this not weird. And failing, mostly.

"Shepard," he says again. Quieter this time, lower, deeper. His voice rumbles through him. Through her.

One hand slides over her shirt and up her back, threading carefully through her hair, as the other continues exploring the skin of her waist and hips. She swallows.

Garrus gently tugs her forward, encouraging her to finish what she started a moment ago.

Olivia's eyes flutter shut and she presses her lips to his mouthplates. They're stiffer than human lips, drier and not quite as pliable; he returns the kiss as best he can. She smiles against him and lets her arms settle around his shoulders. Her fingers dance across the back of his neck – bumpy, but softer than she expected. Garrus draws her closer, pulling her hips against his as he presses up ever so slightly into her.

"So," she says breathlessly. She brings her hands forward, letting her fingertips ghost over his mandibles, mindful of his still-healing scars. "That seems to work okay," she smiles. She feels a lot more confident than she did a moment ago, calmer, and less like she's going to pull out a checklist and ask about turian sexual behavior.

A low, pleased rumble rolls from his throat. "It does," he agrees. "But I think there was something about hands on research?" He tugs on her shirt.

Grinning, she leans back and grasps the hem of her shirt. In one fluid motion, she pulls it over her head and discards the shirt aside, revealing a pink and black lace bra. She lost all of her cute underwear when the Normandy crashed (and Cerberus hadn’t supplied her with any), but she had time to kill in Nos Astra the other day.

Garrus inhales sharply and drags his talons across her hips, marveling at the smooth skin he finds there. His hands coast up and down the slope of her sides and across her stomach; her breath shakes as she keeps herself still. He pulls his eyes away from her waist and back up to her face. "Soft," he says.

"Is that good?" she asks, hesitantly.

"Different," he says. He traces the edge of her pants, dipping just underneath the fabric at the front. She gasps. "But good," he murmurs as he brushes his thumbs across her hipbones.

Garrus draws his hands away from her hips and up to her breasts. He trails his finger over the outline of her bra, taking note of every sound and movement. He sets his whole palm over her breast itself and her breath catches in her throat.

"Good?" he asks, cupping her breast.

"Good," she breathes, "but." She twists in his lap, showing him the clasp of her bra. She flicks it open, so he knows how, and then turns back around.

Garrus lightly drags the straps down her arms and then pulls the whole thing off. She takes from him and tosses it near her shirt.

"That was good," she murmurs, "but this is better." When Garrus looks perplexed, she takes his hands and sets them on her breasts again. His ungloved hands are warm, soft, and he squeezes gently. His talon skims across her nipple and her breath catches.

He tilts his head in fascination and does it again, watching as the sensitive bud grows tighter. He brings his attention to both nipples, playing and teasing until they're both hard and Olivia's squirming in his lap. Looking up from her chest, he grins at her. "I take it that's good?" He leans into her, nuzzling his mouthplates against her neck.

If he slid his hand into her pants, he'd find her panties soaked. "Yes," she breathes.

As Garrus licks a slow line up her neck, she continues her own exploration. Frustrated by his shirt in the way, she leans back and tugs at it. "Can I take this off?"

He nods and lets go of her breasts, which sends a bolt of disappointment through her until she realizes that he's showing her how to get his shirt off. A few toggles and a hidden clasp, and the shirt practically falls away. Garrus casts it aside and then draws her back for another kiss, holding her tight to him.

His hide feels strange against her bare breasts: drier, warmer than human skin, and a little rougher, but not so rough that it hurts. He tugs her closer and she gasps as her nipples graze against his chest – just rough enough to feel amazing. Olivia slides her hands over his newly-exposed skin, across his shoulders, his chest, the back of his neck. She finds a soft spot just beneath his crest and strokes her fingers over it.

Garrus shudders and breaks the kiss.

"Sorry," she says, dropping her fingers away.

He bumps his forehead against hers. "It's nice," he breaths. "Really nice." He slowly drags the tip of his talon down the length of her spine, settling his palm comfortably on her ass. "But it's also a good spot to kill a turian," he whispers. "So be careful."

Nodding, Olivia smiles. She lightly draws a spiral over the spot and Garrus shudders again. This time, she can discern the arousal in it. "Where else is nice for you?"

Garrus hums and settles his hand beside the other on her ass. He squeezes gently. "Might be easier if we moved off the couch." He brushes a kiss to her cheek.

She slides off of him and nearly trips over the table. Garrus catches her arm, steadying her. Once she has her balance, she takes his hand and leads him over to the open space beside the fish tank. She doesn't want to presume anything about the bed, not yet.

"Here," he says, taking her hands. He sets them on his slim waist, just above the fabric of his pants.

Her hands fit perfectly on his hips. She lets her fingers dip into the space between his plates, finding soft, smooth hide. Garrus breathes heavily and she looks up. His eyes are closed, mouth slightly open. She presses a little harder. He groans.

Garrus settles his hands on her own hips, trailing his fingers over the edge of her pants. He opens his eyes. "Can I take these off?" he asks, dipping a talon just slightly below the waistband.

"Yeah," Olivia whispers. She's wearing sweatpants; no buttons, no zippers. "Just push them down."

He does, ever so gently and ever so slowly. He drags her pants down over the curve of her ass and lets them fall to the floor. She steps out and kicks them aside, standing in front of him in only her panties.

He's seen her in her underwear before, changing in and out of armor, and she thinks he might have even seen her naked once on the SR-1, when showers were limited and the urge to not smell like scorched rachni was more important than modesty. But this is different. This is intentional, this is under dim lighting, touching each other. This is cute underwear that matches the bra.

Garrus lightly draws her closer, tracing her curves as his eyes roam over her almost-naked body. "What do you like?" he asks as his hands once again settle on her hips. He gently brushes his fingers over the thin fabric of her panties.

She actually had a list. It seemed practical, knowing what she likes and doesn't like, so she could give him an answer to this exact question. But she can't think of anything on it right now. She can’t think of anything other than getting her panties off and getting someone – Garrus or her own hand, she really doesn't care – between her legs. "Want me to show you?"

She's a little surprised by the sultriness in her voice, but the heat between her legs is far more to pay attention to.

Garrus nods, but doesn't move, keeps stroking her hips, her ass, every bit of panty-covered skin he can reach.

Smiling, she gestures. "Then these need to come off."

Taking half a step closer toward her, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and, once she nods again, happily obliges.

***

Several hours later, Olivia lies on her back with Garrus' head resting on her bare stomach. A sheet lightly covers them from the cool air of her quarters. She's idly tracing his crest while he draws patternless designs across her skin.

"So, not a horribly awkward interspecies thing," she says. Quite the opposite.

Garrus grins. "It's nice to be wrong sometimes."

#shakarian #s:long live #s:2021 #s:words #another one that's been in the works for years #love how some fics for this series are like 600 words long meanwhile this one clocks in at 2200

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