Quid Pro Quo

It was late and we were drunk. Let me just preface it with that.

Very drunk.

It was only a month after we'd fought Sovereign. The Citadel was still undergoing heavy repairs, but some places remained active amid the sparks and wires. Chora's Den was one of them. Not surprising. All those workers, all those residents traumatized by their homes getting savaged by geth and an honest-to-Maker Reaper, needed someplace to drink, and Flux had caught a chunk of Sovereign right in the quasar room. There's an ancient Earth saying about cockroaches likely being the creature that would outlive all others... Chora's was something like that.

Anyway, it was me, Williams, Wrex, and Garrus. Tali was on her way back to the Migrant Fleet, Liara was going over Ilios with a fine-toothed comb looking for more data, we'd already toasted to Alenko's memory, and Captain Anderson was settling into his posh new Council-member digs and thus gave the festivities a politely remorseful pass. Williams had the giggles, Wrex was alternating between maudlin contemplation of the krogan plight and singing old krogan war songs (much to the deep chagrin of just about everyone else), and Garrus and I were cutting loose for the first time in forever. Thanks to his help in defeating Saren and Sovereign, the Council made him a Spectre as soon as they had gotten out of the hospital and back to governing.

Note to self: do not try to outdrink a turian. It will only end in pain.

"So, Commander..." Williams began. I waved a hand at her.

"Kath'rine. Tonight, I'm Katherine, dammit. None o'thish Commander, Shepherd bull..." I caught myself swaying off my stool. "..shit. I'm wearing a skirt! That meansh I'm Kathy." I'd never heard Wrex laugh that loudly before, and I don't think anyone else in the bar had heard a krogan laugh either... it's an amazing sound. I think a couple of the dancers thought we were under attack again. He wasn't the only one laughing. I managed to hold onto my barstool tight enough to not fall over onto Williams, but in trying not to tip onto her, I wound up almost knocking Garrus over.

After we'd wiped the laughter tears from our eyes, Williams remembered her question. "So Com...Shep...KATHY! Any words of wisdom from one Spectre to another? Sage advice for the newbie?"

I drew myself up, looking Garrus straight in the eye. He replied with a curious, toothy smile. "Always...Never..." I lost it, laughing. "Umm... fuck, guys, you've been with me the entire time I've been a Spectre! Sage advice, huh?" I pondered a moment, a mighty feat considering my veins were pumping more alcohol than blood. "Watch your back. If ya can't, find people who will." I threw an arm around Garrus' neck. Williams let out a sarcastic "Awwwwww!" Wrex just snorted into his drink.

Williams was the first to drop out. Not surprising. Her sisters were coming up for a visit and she wanted to at least be a little sober when they arrived. Wrex exited not long after the point he caught himself switching from warsongs to ballads. They sounded identical to me, but the other krogan across the bar was cackling, gasping something about rock-roses in springtime to his buddy. The subsequent brawl was short, decisive, and got Wrex a five-CSec officer escort to the rapid transit stop.

That left the two Spectres. We chatted for a bit, trying desperately to sober up enough to mosey back to our respective bunks. I hopped off my stool and almost kept going towards the floor. That was enough for Garrus.

"Alright, Commander Katherine, let's get you home." He slipped an arm around my waist and hoisted me to my feet. I didn't protest, and I felt his talons brush my stomach through the fabric of my dress. With a slight stagger of his own, we started off towards the Normandy.

---

We had both sobered up a bit by the time he hit the switch to my private quarters, but not enough for common sense to return. He sat me down on the edge of my bed and slipped, joining me and giving me a hell of a bruise in the process. Turian scales are pretty hard, even when they aren't in armor. We laughed, we started chatting, and then, fool that I am, I remembered two things: the bottle of champagne that Captain Anderson had sent me in honor of all I'd done for humanity at large and for him in particular, and the very pretty luminescent bottle of Quarian quezca (undrinkable for me, but it gives off a really pretty purple glow.) I offered him the quez and popped the champagne. He accepted.

After about a quarter bottle, he noticed the bruise on my arm and apologized. I just laughed. "How the hell do you guys mate, even? It must sound like a swordfight!"

He chuckled. "Well, we aren't completely armored." He unbuttoned the top of the jacket he was wearing. The skin beneath it was still shimmery, but looked more like snakeskin than the sharp plating on his face and arms. I was too drunk to resist reaching out a hand to touch it. It felt like kid leather. He cocked his head at me, grinning, then shrugged and returned the gesture, brushing the skin exposed by my rather open neckline with the back of his fingers. My breath caught a little, and I shivered involuntarily. He pulled his hand back, looking a little guilty.

"I'm sorry, did I..."

I shook my head. "No... it was...nice, actually." I flashed a rueful grin. His head cocked again, this time with a little smile.

At about the halfway point of the champagne, I was feeling bold and giggly. Yes, giggly. Champagne is evil. Turns the hardest soldier into a fucking teenager. "Ok, gotta admit, I've wondered...how DO turians mate? I've never heard anything about it. I know salarians lay eggs and have their queens and all that..." I shrugged, grinning but unable to figure out how to phrase it. "I mean, what bits are involved? You don't have lips, so kissing's out..."

Garrus was a bit further into his bottle than I was in mine. From what Tali tells me, it's closer to white lightning than wine. If a turian could blush, he would have been beet red... deep blue? Whatever. I'd caught him off guard, but he was tipsy enough. He leaned over and brushed his cheek against mine, nuzzling my jawline.

"Like that." If his hand had been a nice sensation, this was...wow. Like warm armor, if armor smelled of exotic spices and exhaled soft puffs of air tickling your neck.

"Oh." It came out a little higher and squeakier than I'd intended as his mandible traced against my throat. Dammit. Composure, woman!

He continued speaking as he sat back. "But then, I've never been clear on the appeal of human kissing anyways. It seems a little...odd, if not a little... unpleasant. The whole tongue thing."

Ah, what the hell. I leaned in and pressed my lips against his mouth, smooth and warm with a slight metallic taste, like kissing sculpted steel. The quez burned like fire. My lips parted slightly, he followed suit. I closed my eyes, briefly pondering exactly how sharp those teeth really were, and slipped my tongue into his mouth, tracing the tip against the tip of his tongue. Pointed. A strange sensation. He leaned in a little closer and returned the gesture. I didn't know their tongues were prehensile. I leaned back, a little reluctantly. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Alright, I think I get it now." I laughed. This evening was proving fun AND educational. "But I know what you mean... turian schools don't exactly go into the physy...fizzy...'bits' of human anatomy, either."

Am I really... that drunk?

I was. But more than that, I was curious. And more than that... our little comparative study had turned me on a bit. Don't you even... Before I could properly filter myself, it was out.

Glibly, I piped "I'll show ya mine if you show me yours!" then slapped a hand over my mouth, blushing profusely.

He peered at me bemusedly with a broad grin.

"It's... an old Earth thing... boys and girls discovering the differences between...genders and stuff..." I stumbled a bit. Stupid, stupid, stu...

He chucked a talon under my chin affectionately. "Remember, you started this." With that, he stood up.

And began to unfasten his jacket. He nodded towards me. "What's that human term...squid pro quo?"

"Quid." I stood up, swaying a little. "Quid pro quo." Dear sweet Maker what the hell am I doing? My fingers went uncertainly to the fasteners of my dress. It slid off more quickly than I was ready for. Damned slippery fabric. At least I'd worn decent-looking underthings, green silk, not the standard military-issue grey skivvies. I averted my eyes for a second, then looked back up, meeting his eyes. He finished unbuttoning his jacket and slid it off, hanging it neatly on the back of my chair. His torso was made of that same iridescent snakeskin, a soft 'underbelly' to the sharp, smooth scales that framed his chest and covered the backs of his arms. Quite lovely to look at, really, and well muscled.

He nodded towards me. I broke my brief reverie and blushed again. Maker's sake... I'm a Spectre. I've saved the fucking galaxy from certain doom. And I'm blushing like a damned virgin. Square up, soldier! With that little mental reprimand, I drew myself up, squared my shoulders, then reached back and unfastened my bra. It slid off. I'm hardly a Chora's Den Dancer, but what I have is firm, round, and what men would call 'perky' if they wanted a punch in the mouth. I felt his eyes on me, fascinated. It occurred to me that I'd never seen a female turian, but if he's a bit on the lizardy side, chances are they don't have mammaries.

Moment of truth. I looked him in the eye. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. The dare had been made, the gauntlet thrown. To back down now would be cowardice. Hardly behavior worthy of a Spectre.

His talons went to the fasteners of his pants. I looped my thumbs into the sides of my panties. An unspoken count. 1...2...3.

His pants slid down. I bent, pulling my panties down. As I glanced up, coming up, I got an interesting surprise.

For a moment, his groin was smooth as the rest of his 'underbelly.' Then, when I was almost eye-to-crotch with him on my way back up, what I thought was a scale slipped open, releasing him. It was long, slender, tapered to a soft point, and curled in a long, smooth helix... not corkscrew-tight, mind, but there was a definite twist to it that would probably make a human male wince to contemplate. It looked softer than the skin of his stomach, with only a little of the iridescence to it. And it was dark blue.

He looked a bit embarrassed when I stood up straight and looked him in the eye. "Umm..." I knew what he meant. Sorry I just popped a boner at you...

So here we were. Two colleagues...two friends...stripped bare and fueled with a heady blend of liquor, curiosity, and bravado. Almost before I realized I was doing it, I reached out a finger and gently touched his penis. The curiosity had won.

He gasped and shivered, looking surprised but, thankfully, not offended. He looked, in fact, a little bolder. He reached out his hand and again brushed my skin with the back of it, this time tracing down my right breast. When he reached the curve, he cautiously turned his hand over and cupped it in his palm, talons just barely grazing the skin. My pulse was racing. I could feel myself reacting, getting wet at this perilous feeling of soft and sharp, adrenaline thrilling at the danger.

I ran two fingers gently down the length of his penis and I heard his breath catch. My other hand rested on his chest. I could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. Admittedly, this could be his normal heart rate, but the quickened breathing definitely seemed to be a reaction. His other arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer, talons grazing my ribcage. One of them grazed a little deeper. I felt it scratch the skin, drawing a little bit of blood. He looked down and almost pulled away, concern in his eyes. I wasn't about to let that happen. The hand on his chest hooked under his arm, pulling him closer. I knew what he was thinking. Squishy human, sharp turian, how can we do this without killing her?

If there is one well-known trait of humanity, it's ingenuity.

My fingers curled around his penis, gently caressing it with long, slow strokes. His eyes closed, head tipping back slightly, growling low. I could tell he was trying to fight it, trying to regain enough control to stop before I got hurt. I didn't give him the chance. My other hand drew him towards me, cautiously cupping the scales on his ass, as I sat on the edge of the bed. With a smile, and a momentary concern about whether there would be a toxicity issue, I bowed my head and kissed the tip of his penis. He gasped, shuddering hard, and the slender member took on a slightly tighter twist. No guts, no glory... My tongue traced along it, gently licking my way along the curves. I looked up without stopping and could see that he was having a very hard time figuring out what to do with his talons. I reached up and slipped my hand into his, gripping firmly. I felt his hand close around mine. Finally, I took him into my mouth, toying with him with lips and tongue and turning the soft growl into a rumble, ever louder as I increased my ministrations, tracing fingers along what my mouth could not accomodate. He tasted like copper and spices and a deep sensual musk, exotic, intriguing.

I could hear a roar building into his throat, but quickly he pulled away. I'll admit, I was hurt for a moment and looked up with a question in my eyes. His eyes were blue flames in his steel grey face. Somewhat less carefully than before, his free hand gripped my shoulder, pushing me back onto the bed. He knelt between my legs, bowed his head, and proceeded to trace my labia with a very warm, slightly-pointed tongue. It was my turn to cry out, back arching. He still held my hand, squeezing a little as he teased my clit with the very point of his tongue. For someone who'd never seen a human vagina before, he was remarkably skilled at turning every tiny bit of it into pure wildfire. His free hand traced my leg with the very points of his talons, thrilling me and sending waves of shudders through my body. He was relentless, thorough, and remarkably agile. His tongue wrapped around my clit, and I quietly thanked all of creation for prehensile tongues. OK, maybe not so quietly. Finally, I couldn't hold back anymore. Waves of blinding pleasure wracked my body, making me arch against him with a cry I prayed my crew couldn't hear.

I heard a slight growl of frustration. He was gazing at me hungrily. I worked out what he was thinking rather quickly. With a wicked grin, I rolled over, leaning my hands on the bed and presenting myself, looking back over my shoulder invitingly. His eyes lit up, quickly understanding. He traced a talon slowly down my spine as he stepped closer, making me shiver. I could feel him sliding into me, gently, white-hot and hard and that twist... immediately, I was writhing, pushing back into him as he thrusted inside me, gently at first, stronger and harder with each moment. I could feel that strange cock coiling inside me, turning each thrust into a tantalizingly long stroke, a glorious little eternity of pleasure. Musk in the air, my own and that scent of sex and cardamom from him. My fingers dug into the mattress, savaging the sheets as wave after dizzying wave of blinding ecstasy tore through me. I felt his fingers grip my shoulders tightly, talons digging in. I didn't care. The pain made the pleasure that much sweeter. I heard a growl building in his throat, matching the moaning crescendo building in mine. Finally, the room exploded in sparkles before my eyes, my head whipping back as an almost painful flood of blissful pleasure tore through me, and I wasn't alone. The growl built to a roar, the talons dug deep, and I felt him plunge deep into me, shuddering like he was about to shatter apart.

The only sound was the two of us panting, gasping for air as we collected ourselves, him still buried deep in me. I heard him gasp as he opened his eyes and saw the thin trails of blood on my shoulders. "Oh my..." He started to pull away, horrified. I felt him slip out of me, sending another shiver down my spine. I was sorry to feel him leave. "Are you alright? Shepherd, I'm... I'm so sor..."

I turned to face him, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and caught his hands in mine. Before he could finish his apology, I had pulled him down eye-to-eye and planted my lips on his again. He made a noise dangerously close to a squeak of surprise. I had him down on the bed next to me before he had a chance to react. "Spectre, remember?" I said with a grin, then nuzzled his jaw a little.

He laughed, but still looked a little concerned. "Shouldn't you at least bandage that?" he asked, gesturing at my shoulder. I looked at the damage. Minimal. I'd had far worse at boot camp. "Oddly, I don't really want to go see Dr. Chakwas right now... the explanation and all..." I pondered a moment, then brightened. "Reach into the top drawer of my desk." He complied and retrieved a spare packet of medi-gel I'd tossed in there after my last mission. He seemed somewhat mollified when he started to hand it to me and paused. He sat next to me, tore it open and squeezed it onto his fingertips, gently applying it to the wounds himself-- a strangely sweet tender gesture. The cool gel felt heavenly on my hot skin, and the holes closed up in moments. "See, no harm, no foul." I gave him a peck on the cheek and laid back, suddenly exhausted.

He started to rise. "I should probably go before I do more damage..." I caught his arm and pinned it under me, his scales warm and smooth on my skin. He fell with a thud and a startled "Oof!" I carefully curled up against him, head on his shoulder, red hair pooling on iridescent steel-blue scales, and closed my eyes. He didn't struggle. Instead, I felt him brushing my hair away from my face, stroking it softly. His fingers grazed my jaw and traced down my neck, down my arm, settling at my waist, pulling me just a little closer. Before I dropped off, I heard a contented rumble deep in Garrus' chest, lulling me to sleep.

---

The next morning, I woke up feeling like creamed chipped death on toast. My head was pounding, my stomach sub par at best, and I was very, very sore. There were a few fine scratches on my arms, and a bruise or two. Garrus was gone, his stealth in slipping out a credit to his future as a Spectre. Worry began to sneak into my brain, nudging its way next to the blaring headache. How loud were we? How much did my crew hear? How many saw him leave? Had I just trashed a perfectly good friendship for a night of (admittedly phenomenal) sex? These questions and more made plenty of racket as I poured myself into the shower, drinking from the shower spray to kill two birds with one stone.

I had just finished getting dressed and downing a couple glasses of water when I heard the knock on my door. A nervous-looking private stood outside my door, holding a package. He saluted. "This just came for you, ma'am." I took the proffered package and retreated into my room.

Inside, I found a bottle of champagne and a note.

Thank you for a very educational evening. See you soon.

--G.V.