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Tiran has a problem, and that problem is sitting squarely in his lap with a loopy smile on her face and a drink somehow still in her hand. The alcohol -- because it is mostly alcohol, he can smell it on her and wafting from the cup -- drips over the rim, sliding down the side of the cup and wetting her fingers.
She’s steadied herself by wrapping her other hand around the back of his head, and her little fingers are pressing under his fringe with just too much pressure for it to be an accident. It’s the kind of teasing touch he hasn’t felt in… well, in too long, to be honest, and the fact that she’s been walking steady all night only to trip just in time to fall into his lap?
“Oh, oops,” she says, a laugh in her voice but absolutely no apology anywhere. If anything, she seems pleased with herself, settling more against his thighs and pulling away to switch her cup from right hand to left. He tried to catch her when she tripped, and his hand is still on her waist, dangerously close to the bare skin of her back where her shirt rides up -- not that he’s been eyeing it every time she’s walked by tonight.
He swallows hard and doesn’t speak.
Her cup now in her dry hand, she sucks the spilled liquid from her fingers. His gloved talons tighten over her tank top and her eyes flicker up to meet his.
He knows this is an accidentally-on-purpose situation, but… what is he going to do about it?
There’s a challenge in her eyes, a smug quirk to her lips, and then she’s moving again, her drink back in her left hand and her right back against the back of his head, little fingers pressing against the sensitive skin usually safely hidden there, and she leans right up against him as she twists around and looks at something across the empty room.
When she suggested the two of them catch drinks together after work? This isn’t at all what he expected.
Her movements get him a faceful of her hair, soft and brown and beautiful, and he inhales with a slightly open mouth. She smells… delicious. He lets his hand drift down a little, around to the small of her back where he’d be touching her skin if he wasn’t responsibly wearing gloves. She shivers anyway, and he gives in -- just a tiny bit -- and buries his face deeper in the springy curtain of her hair.
Her next little movement brings her closer, twisting her hips a little so he can feel her muscles moving against his hand. He presses his face closer to her and feels his nose ridge bump against her ear, and he exhales a shaky breath as he reminds himself that this all seems to be part of some sort of game she’s playing. It doesn’t keep the arousal from swirling inside him, and it doesn’t keep a little growl from reverberating out of his chest.
She shivers. Her fingers tighten on the back of his head and her nails press into his skin, and he groans again, unashamed. She’s doing it on purpose. She’s teasing him. He’s not afraid to let her know what she’s doing to him, and he’d pick her up and carry her all the way back to the closest bed if he thought she’d be okay with it… that isn’t part of the game. She’s enjoying what she’s doing to him, he’s sure of it.
Sure enough, she twists her head around until their foreheads are resting together. Her breaths are measured but deep and shaky, and he can still feel her fingers digging into the underside of his fringe. It doesn’t even feel like she’s actively trying to tease him any more… it feels like she’s holding on for dear life, holding herself back from something.
He swallows hard and starts to speak, but he doesn’t even get past her name before she’s speaking over him, words falling from her lips in a tumble.
“Grace--”
“Tiran, I don’t want to push for anything you’re uncomfortable with, but I would really like it if you kissed me right about now.”
Oh, well, he’s not going to argue withthat.
He tilts his head to the side and presses his mouth plates to hers, and he groans when he feels the soft give of her lips. Kissing a human is always a little strange, but the way it makes her whimper is more than worth the strange movements of his jaw, and the way it makes her fingernails drag down under his fringe is enough to have his groin plates loosen under the heat of her body.
She slides her tongue against the seam of his mouth and he opens for her, letting her shorter tongue press against his. He’s careful, gentle with his responses even as he desperately wants more and more and more. He lets experience guide him on how much tongue to use, lets experience drag his mouth away from hers so he can pinch the skin of her neck between his mouth plates, his replacement for a kiss there, lets it guide him into rubbing the rough tip of his tongue across the dip of her collarbone and then up her throat until she’s moaning aloud into the too-quiet room.
He can smell her so clearly with his face pressed against her neck, all Initiative-issued soap and cloying alcohol and sweet arousal, and he cups the back of her head with his free hand to hold her still as he breathes deeply. He’s wanted to do this every time she’s spoken to him over the Apex table, every time she’s tilted her head to the side and gazed up at him from under her eyelashes.
She starts to pull away a little, and he lets her go only to realize she’s just stretching to put her drink down on the little side table. The motion reminds him she’s still healing from her last mission, the bandage wrapped around her arm a grim reminder that he can lose her at any time.
“Is this… a good idea?” he asks, already curing himself before the words leave him. She blinks at him, lovely eyes clouded with lust, and it obviously takes her a second to realize what he means.
When she does, she shrugs. “We’re both adults, Kandros.” A pause, then she continues: “If you don’t want to, I mean, that’s different. But if you do, I’d love to.” She grins at him, teeth glinting in the low light. “Been thinking about it for a while.”
She teases her fingertips behind his mandible, dancing them along his jaw to his neck before resting her hand on the collar of his armor. She’s still smiling at him, but she looks… vulnerable suddenly, uncertain, her eyes pinched. Still, he knows that if he apologized and took his leave, she’d let him go, and wouldn’t ever “accidentally” sit in his lap again, even after a few drinks.
He shifts to rest both his hands on her hips, fingers just brushing under the hem of her shirt. “I meant, uh, I meant because of your arm. You’re still hurt.”
“Oh.” She laughs a little, and the pinched expression disappears. She twists her injured arm to look at it critically. “I can tell you if it hurts.”
She leans in and kisses his nose, then presses her mouth to his once again. Her hips shift in his grip as she settles closer to him, a pleasant weight in his lap, and her warmth makes him forget his reservations and his worry about her last mission. He stands, pulling her up into his arms, and smiles as she laughs in pure delight at being hauled up into the air.
She kisses his neck, the pressure just enough to register what she’s doing but not enough to distract him as he navigates from her living room into her bedroom. She corrects herself without prompting as he pushes her door open, scraping her teeth against his rough skin, the sensation shooting straight through him.
He growls, and she smothers a giggle against his skin.
He turns when he reaches her bed -- unmade, messy from the last time she slept in it -- and sits at the edge with her still in his lap. She bites his neck again, earning another groan, and he takes the time to pull his gloves off before putting his hands on her back. His talons, always filed down and blunt at the tip, still press into the thin skin of her back, and she arches into the sensation. He drags them up, pushing under her shirt, and she bites him harder in retaliation.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
Her little hands move to the clasps of his armor, finding and releasing them with only a little fumbling, and he lets her pull it apart piece by piece. She stands before him with her cheeks pink and her shirt pulled askew so it’s dangling off one shoulder and bites her lip at him. He leans back on the bed, wearing only his undersuit and still desperate to be free of it, and watches her watching him.
“Gracie?” She blinks hard and meets his gaze, her pupils blown wide. "Take off your clothes.”
She blinks again, once, then seems to come back to herself. She pulls the tank off over her head and lets it float the floor, but he doesn’t have time to watch because she’s already reaching behind her to pull her bra off. It falls to the floor too, leaving her torso bare to his gaze, and he devours the sight in front of him like a turian starved. She’s so strong, scarred from battles but alive in front of him, a grin on her face and red in her cheeks, and he wants to pull her back into his lap and press his teeth into her delicate skin, but she leans down to push those tight pants off and he forgets what he was thinking in favor of admiring her form.
How is he going to plan Apex missions with her without replaying what’s about to happen in his mind?
She bends down so their faces are level, a wicked smirk taking hold on her face, and pulls at the zipper on his undersuit. He shrugs out of it, helping when he thinks she’s going to get stuck because nothing is going to keep him from her tonight, and as soon as the fabric is free of his body, she’s reaching between his legs.
She knows what she’s doing even though he isn’t human, brushing her fingers across loosened plates to coax his cock out -- already hard, already dripping, already ready to be buried inside of her. Her whole face lights up when she sees it emerging, and she wraps one hand around it while balancing herself with her other hand on his thigh.
His whole body twitches as she begins to pump him, pleasure made all the more powerful for the months of pent-up desire coursing through him, and he buries one hand in her hair while the other rests on her thigh. He guides her face back to his for another sloppy kiss, this one more tongue than anything else -- not that he’s complaining; this is how he prefers to kiss because he’s better at it, and the open-mouthed groan she gives him proves that -- and thrusts into her grip.
“Tiran…” she murmurs, breaking contact with him for just long enough to moan his name. He takes advantage, nipping at her neck again with his mouth plates, encouraging another moan out of her throat. He groans in response, cock twitching, and she huffs out a laugh. “I’ve been wondering what that mouth of yours can do.”
He pulls away from yet another nip at her skin to nuzzle into her hair again. Her scent is stronger now, filling her room and drowning him. When his nasal ridge bumps into her ear again, he says, “I’ve been wanting to show you.” He follows this up by twirling the tip of his tongue around the shell of her ear, and she pushes him back with a firm shove that has him falling into the mattress.
His fringe pushes uncomfortably into the fabric and he sits back up as she begins to frown at him. Her eyes flicker over him, sussing out the problem, then over her bed to find a solution. It’s hardly a moment before she’s arranging her pillows behind him to help him lay back without hurting himself, and then she’s climbing over him so her knees are on either side of his face and her cunt is right over his mouth.
Her scent is so strong here that his mouth waters, and he gives her what he wants by grabbing her hips and pulling her down until her weight is against him. He’s careful with his teeth but presses his tongue inside of her to almost its full reach.
She reacts immediately, crying out like she’s hurt, but when he opens his eyes to look up at her, she’s just tilting her head back and cupping her breasts. Her taste explodes on his tongue and he groans, grasping her hips tighter to hold her steady against him. He fucks her steadily even as her wetness drips down onto his chin, tongue working against that spot inside her that he knows drives human women wild.
Despite his best efforts, it’s only when she reaches down and begins to rub at the little button of flesh just above where his tongue is pushing into her that she comes, a cry flying from her lips and her body convulsing over him. She clenches around his tongue and his cock twitches as though already buried inside of her.
Why haven’t they done this before? What’s taken them so long?
“Tiran!” His name falling from her lips is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, and as soon as her body relaxes he pulls his tongue away and releases her grip so she can escape. She does, but she only moves far enough away to straddle his lap, trapping his cock between them. She teases with little movements of her hips, rubbing her wetness against him until he can’t help but grab her hips once more.
Thoughts of allergies float through his mind, but the feeling of her body rubbing against his is too damn distracting and he can’t remember to ask. She’s panting, her scent covering him and overwhelming him and he can still taste her when she grabs his cock with one hand so she can slide onto him.
“Ohhh… oh, Tiran, you feel so good.” She’s babbling, and he loves it, listening as he watches her sink onto his cock. His eyes are wide and the angle to look down hurts his neck, but he wouldn’t miss this if missing it would defeat the Archon. “Yeah, oh god, this is perfect.”
She takes him, she takes all of him, letting him fill her up completely until he can’t think of anything else but how tight she is around him. She doesn’t wait until she adjusts, just braces her knees against the bed and starts to move.
It’s like heaven, like the best thing he’s ever dared to dream of, all hot and wet and tight around him, and he can’t do anything but hold on tight as she rides him. She moves over him like she was born to it, bouncing over him in a way that makes him feel embarrassingly close to the edge before she’s moved even a handful of times.
Her moans finally give him the permission she needs to move his hands from where they’re clutching her waist, first moving up to grasp her breasts in the way she held them earlier, before moving back down over her taut stomach to the button she’d pressed earlier to push herself over the edge.
He presses the pad of his thumb against it, careful to keep his talon away from her center, and lets her own motion move it against her. He pants for breath, fighting against the orgasm he can already feel rising inside him, and just groans each time his cock is fully inside of her.
“Grace,” he gasps out, finally, too close to the edge to hold back for one more minute. “Come.”
It’s all he can manage to say, but it’s all he needs to say because the pressure of his thumb against her and the movement of his cock inside of her pushes her over the edge and she comes once again with a cry that’s choked off into silence.
She twitches around him, cunt clenching so tight around him that he almost spills inside of her, and then she’s collapsing against his front. He’s still so hard, still buried inside of her, and he wraps his arms around her anyway.
This is… this is amazing.
His cock twitches. He needs more. He needs to come.
When Grace comes back to herself, she slides off, slipping to his side and leaving her body pressed against his. She nuzzles against his neck, nipping at it, and reaches down with one hand to wrap around his cock. In the absence of her body, the warmth of her hand is enough to make him growl deep in his chest and thrust up. She bites him harder, pumping fast, ready for him to finish now that she’s reached her own end.
She pumps him hard, hands sure and steady, and within moments he’s spilling against his own carapace. He groans, a low sound caught before it can leave his mouth, and she sighs against him. Her hot breath tickles his neck and he shivers, another, louder moan escaping him. He pulls her closer, turning to catch her mouth in a human kiss, and she rewards him with a quiet giggle.
She’ll be leaving soon for Voeld, on another mission based on his orders, far away from his protection and his touch. He’ll enjoy her for now, while he can wrap his arms around her, while he can touch her without anyone wondering what’s going on between them.
For now? This… this is enough.
It must be enough.