#zet writes things
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Fanfic: Sonnenblume
Or, I finally wrote a desert vacation fic.
[Read on AO3] - Rated E for SPICYEEEEEEEE
Pairing: Thane/FShep | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~4600
There’s a kind of transcendental brilliance to this place. Some kind of inebriating mix of oxytocin and fresh air and sunshine that ignites his synapses and levitates his heart until he feels he can touch the radiant sky.
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“I think I found a place,” she says one morning. “An old friend of my mom's, they have a vacation home back on Earth, out in the American Southwest.”
Thane raises a brow at her. They're cleaning out the cargo hold, offloading collector tech at the citadel tower dock for distribution to the council races, each of them making their requests for research and study.
“I've never been to Earth,” he muses. There are any number of arid planets to visit, it seems almost foolish he is just now considering that Earth has many climates, deserts included.
“I haven't been in a long time. Grew up in space, last time I was topside was before my Spectre appointment. But my mom's friend says it's the perfect time to visit. A month from now it'll be hotter than a Krogan’s quad.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Earth sounds lovely, Siha.”
Her smile could light up the deepest reaches of dark space.
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Day 1
They're docking in Vancouver, slipping out the cargo hold and on to a taxi to whisk them away right under the noses of the Alliance's top brass.
The joy in her eyes is supernatural, he thinks. Unshackled from the military for seven scant days, Shepard practically glows with the energy of her newfound freedom. They leave an absolutely amateur trail of evidence as they flee south, along the west coast of the United States, through mountains and redwoods and oceans. The only stop they need to make is to pick up new clothes, snacks, and sunscreen.
They're on vacation.
He has to think to remember how to say it in his mother tongue. Ten years ago, he hadn't the funds to take time away from work after his marriage. Like many within the Compact, his life had always been driven by work, using the few pockets of silence in the spaces between each job to secure the next contract, research the next target, or hone his skills. Little time had ever been spared for himself. This… outing, this vacation, is something he's long thought belonged to the upper echelons of society and caste.
But he supposes he is wealthy, in some sense.
He's in love.
Wealth is watching Shepard parade almost girlishly in front of the shopping center’s changing rooms, all blushing cheeks and nervous laughter as she twirls the golden yellow sundress that she insists she's “unsure” about. Wealth is the way her face lights up when she spots a large, wavy brimmed hat across the aisle and races to try it on. Wealth is how she winks at him over her oversized sunglasses, and the levity in her voice when she says, with a devil's grin, “They'll never recognize me now.”
She might be right. The man at the checkout counter doesn't spare them a second glance as he checks out with their things.
Vacation suits her. And as they hail another transit to take them to the arid southwest, he thinks it's beginning to suit him too. He's rather looking forward to the breezy garments he’d chosen for himself.
Shepard's ruby red hair is swallowed by her massive sun hat, casting a broad shadow down her lean and muscled frame and the golden fabric of her dress. “Civvies,” she calls them. “You know, civilian clothes.”
He's quite certain there's nothing civilian about her. Her shoulders are too square, her calves and arms too hardened. She turns the eyes of the other passengers, oblivious to or simply ignoring their blatant stares. He feels like a shadow by comparison, clothed for now in the dark colors so typical of his profession. Still, her head falls against his shoulder and she slips her hand into his, laying claim to him all the same. Her silent affection makes his heart and body ache for her.
With practiced breaths, he slips beneath the waves of memory, willing himself through the minutes until the moment when they’re finally alone.
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Soon enough, they find themselves stepping off yet another transport not far from their rental.
Nearly one with the rocky desert, the low-roofed home is a dissertation in minimalist design, with flat, concrete lines gliding across deep-set windows, leading his eye to a modest entryway and through the glass beyond. Dimly, he wonders if he might have the funds to purchase the property; the volus bankers who minded his accounts probably thought him dead, having let his assets sit untouched for years. A minimalist by nature, this is precisely the place he had long dreamed of living.
Shepard tugs his hand, her skirt fluttering in the transport's downdraft, and his thoughts melt beneath her eyes, lit from within by a soft, cybernetic glow in the shadow of her sun hat.
She drops their things the moment both feet are over the threshold. Before he’s even figured out how to lock the door, her mouth is on his. She pulls him - grasps him by the shoulders and tugs him deeper into the house, kicking off her sandals as she goes, leading him towards whatever furniture lies beyond. True to her nature, his Siha is impatient. She is the fiery crown of Arashu, and he the rolling tide of Kalahira. He tempers her flames, grasping her wrists and flattening her hands against his chest as he kisses her, slow and deep.
The idyllic home they'll share for the week isn’t much more than background noise as she yields against him.
Her shoulders are already kissed by the sun, dusted with a delicate pink hue that warms beneath his touch. He slips a finger beneath one narrow strap of her dress, sliding it down her arm, trailing kisses in his wake. One luscious breast comes free, then the other, and her dress falls to the ground without ceremony.
Not long after, she's straddling him on the couch, grinding down on him with those soft little moans he's replayed over and over again in his mind.
Their first time was like this. He basks in the ethereal headspace between past and present, crisscrossing them in his mind as her hips roll against his, hot breath on his neck. And then she lets out the smallest whimper, a sound so vulnerable and soft that he cannot help but breathe her name in return, clutching her close. His dominant hand settles on her backside, aiding her motion; the other rests between her shoulder blades as he drives himself up into her heat, his mouth wandering in clumsy gasps along her chest. The way she lets her weight fall against him is an unspoken surrender, a precious gift she has chosen only him to receive.
He will never know why she chose him. But if it's him she wants, then she shall have him. Every night, again and again, until she screams his name in ecstasy and they lay in satiated exhaustion.
Tu-fira.
He belongs to her.
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It’s difficult to articulate how natural this feels.
Night falls, a chill settling over the rocky desert. He’s been alone with her many times, but never quite like this. In the short time they’ve known one another, she’s never been more than a commlink away from her crew, her mission, her ship and her duty. Here, nestled under a sea of stars, they’re more alone than either of them have been in decades. He watches the light of the backyard firepit cast flickering shadows on her bare skin, their hands intertwined.
Long after driving one another to sweat-kissed exhaustion, they remain entangled, engrossed in conversation. It’s like meeting her for the first time all over again. The armored force of nature who had carved a willful path into his life now lay naked in a nest of blankets with him, firelight dancing in her eyes, deep into a long and meandering train of thought. She weaves tales of her life before the Alliance, of joyrides and hijinks that would have made even his younger, rambunctious self hesitate. Her excitement touches his soul with a kind of contentment that he’s not touched in what feels like a lifetime.
Inevitably, the chill of night becomes too much to bear, and their talks meander back to the physical; stories of life before one another and the various trysts that preceded.
He can hear the desire in the deep, red edge of her voice; the way her tone dips from casual to sensual as she stands, clothed only in the dancing hues of firelight, and leads him to the crisp, untouched sheets of their shared bed. He pulls her close, scaled hands sliding across bare human skin, pointedly savoring her, willing his want and his love to find their way into every corner of her soul.
He wants. Oh, how deeply he wants.
He whispers prayers into her palms, one by one, as she rides him into the break of dawn.
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Day 2
Morning comes and goes in silence.
They lay heedless to the sun's motion, tangled soft sheets lit by the dreamy glow of day through the deep-set awnings and windows of their rental. Thane dozes in and out of sleep with her in his arms, heart swelling each time he wakes, awash in the scent of her hair and skin. They lie together for some time, and when she rises, he curls into the space where she had slept, unwilling to part with her residual heat.
Heat stirs in his limbs as he hears the shower kick on, his body calling for her as though he's woken up back in time, a younger, more virile man. Half in dreams, he can see her naked and robed in morning dew like a siren, and he cannot resist.
He finds her in the frameless shower, sunlight streaming through the window beside her. Water pours over her in rivulets of gleaming light, the sun illuminating the strong dunes of her back, gleaming off her shoulder blades and the curve of her spine.
Shepard, of all the people he had known, was made of sunshine. She was made of the fiery warmth and light of day, bathing him in her glory and simultaneously blinding him with effortless radiance.
And it's here, pressed up against the polished concrete wall beneath a lukewarm deluge of water, that he shows her all the ways he loves her. Shows her how, if he angles his hips just so, the last of her burdens melt away and he knows her as only he can; through the gentle, mewling gasps of an angel on the verge of tasting her own glory, manifesting the soft heat inside her as he drives himself against her deepest reaches.
He has to be mindful of his eyes. This has always been true, will always be true of all drell, but never more so than when she nears the peak of her pleasure. Shepard is possessive, perpetually communicating her need with unending motion, gripping him close as though the mere inches between them are a chasm too great to bear. He watches the way crystalline drops of water bead on her neck and shoulders, they way they catch the morning sun like diamonds, casting pinpricks of dappled light against his own scales and streak down the shape of her as she moves against him, contorted and desperate to take him deeper, to break herself upon the sanguine friction of their joining.
Her head knocks softly against the wall, her back arching, chest thrust toward him. And then she breaks. Sweet gods, how she breaks.
It's almost more than he can take. Words can never hope to say all the beautiful things she is when she comes.
He gathers each gasp, each heartbeat, every droplet of water on her parted lips and every clench of her heat around him. He drinks them all in, safely locked in the depths of his blessed memory for all his days. There is no greater gift in this life or the next.
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Day 3
Much as he would like to spend the entirety of their ‘vacation’ finding a reason to make love to her on every unoccupied surface in their rental, Shepard has made sure to include other activities in their itinerary.
He wakes to find her half dressed, smiling at him as she pulls a swimsuit top over her head. It’s a deep, forest green, with wide, high straps that criss-cross over her collarbones in an attractive triangular shape. He blinks, anchoring himself to reality as though he can't be sure she's real. And if his drowsy eyes find purchase in the alluring curve of her breasts peeking through the small cutout at the top’s center, he's certain the gods will forgive him.
The mattress dips as she sits beside him. “Come for a ride with me,” she whispers by his ear.
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Thane has often heard that human skin is easily burned by their planet’s star. He’s never quite believed it until Shepard.
He finds himself on a beach, massaging the soft cream she calls ‘sunblock’ into her back and shoulders, wondering how he could have ever gotten so lucky. His Siha, his warrior angel, so vulnerable without her armor that she wants - needs - his hands to protect her soft human skin, heals his soul with this one simple act; the intimate joy of being her protector and lover as he takes care to make sure she is thoroughly covered. The ocean breeze blows strands of her carmine hair across her forehead as she turns her head to him, smile lines deepening with delight as their eyes meet.
They pass the time in golden luxuriation, prostrating themselves beneath the radiant heat of Sol for hours, never more than an arm’s length apart, until the sun dips below the horizon and paints the sky in a myriad of hues somewhere between floral and fire.
And as the sun bows out for the evening, he bows her into the sand, lips locked and knees knocking against her own as they collapse together on soft, weatherworn sand that clings to the warmth of the sun as it bids them goodnight.
He never wants to leave this place.
Goddess above, Earth is the very image of serenity. Freer than free, his breath unburdened, his elation pours from him into her waiting mouth as they taste the salt air together. Her beach towel is a poor shield from the sand, but it hardly matters as he uncovers her skin, inch by precious inch, until she quivers beneath his touch, the sound of his name carried away by the rolling swell of the ocean.
He can taste the sea between her legs, the irresistible twang of life and salt and need that rises from her like water from a stone.
“Don't stop,” she breathes.
He couldn't - not if he wanted to. He wants this memory exponentially more than his own pleasure. A moment finer than all the collected treasures of the galaxy, etched into his mind for the rest of his days: his Siha writhing beneath his hot mouth, gripping his scalp, crying out as she tumbles again and again through ecstasy of his making.
He could die here, he thinks. Perhaps he's already dead. He nuzzles her thighs, warm and soft, as she floats down from on high. Yes, if the gods wish this to be his grave, he would gladly bow his head in thanks.
It's an hour’s trek back to their rental, but they will stay here until the ocean wind becomes too cold to endure, dunes yielding beneath them just as flesh yields to flesh and they become one.
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Day 4
It’s the honeymoon phase, he thinks to himself, running his fingers through her hair as she lies sleeping on his chest.
Thane has been here before, in another life, waxing and waning in the warmth of his wife’s bed. Deep in a distant rational corner of his mind tries to tell him: it won’t be this way forever. But does that matter? Does it really, actually matter? Months ago he would have said that he was but a tooth on a cogwheel, destined to spin around in repeating cycles of loss, memory, and despair. But this fierce woman pursues him with all the endurance that humans are known for. Bit by bit, she chips away at the rigid crust the last ten years have borne upon him, and he is alive. Alive in ways he hasn’t known in what feels like a lifetime.
They will spend this day treating themselves to all the beauty that earth’s arid lands have to offer. From the bleached, rolling dunes of sand, to the baked and rocky landscapes dotted with life in its most hardy forms, to the golden time-carved radiance of the painted desert - Goddess preserve him. His past has never felt further away. With her by his side, his world is filled with sunlight in much the same way as Earth’s gleaming sky, now so familiar and perfect to him that he would just as easily call it home.
And when the sun’s heat is too much for her human skin to bear, he trades the scenic vistas of the American southwest for a landscape of another kind.
Her skin glows, its color deepening with each passing day in dappled patterns that betray her state of undress throughout their travels. He finds it endearing, the way her cheeks and shoulders are dusted with more freckles than he'd seen when they arrived, the way her chest and thighs remain lighter in color than the rest of her, drawing his eyes, his hands, his mouth to worship at the temple at is her body. She kneels between his knees and blesses him with the sweet heat of her mouth, stealing his breath as she tastes him, crimson hair the perfect anchor for his hands as she takes him higher and higher.
He had underestimated her appetite for him. Perhaps he'd underestimated his own appetite in turn. They haven't even made it back to their rental and he can already smell the need on her, the cramped taxi insulating and perfuming the air so thickly he can almost taste her, slick and soaking with arousal, maddeningly just out of reach but with nothing but her panties between her need and the rest of him. Powerless to the heat of her mouth, he spirals through his lust as she pleasures him, soft hands and pink lips around his shaft. Her artificial eyes gleam up at him through her mussed hair, and goddess preserve him, he’ll hack the engine himself if it’ll make this taxi go any faster.
She's fumbling at the lock as he pushes her against the wall beside their front door, covering her mouth with his. Lips locked, they stumble inside. His hand drops down to her thigh, palming at the warm skin just beneath her skirt. Shepard, in turn, tugs him in the direction of the bedroom.
He considers this, allowing himself to be led as he considers all they’ve had the pleasure of seeing today - of her radiant smile beneath her oversized sunglasses, unable to conceal the joy of her eyes from his perfect recollection. Of her freckle-dusted shoulders beneath the shadow of her sun hat. And he decides in that moment that no - as much as he adores their soft bed and its sex-scented sheets, he loves her in the daylight more.
The back patio opens with a wave of his omni-tool, and he presses her into the opulent cushions around the fire pit. She chuckles against his mouth - perhaps he's become too predictable, but it no longer matters.
There’s a kind of transcendental brilliance to this place. Some kind of inebriating mix of oxytocin and fresh air and sunshine that ignites his synapses and levitates his heart until he feels he can touch the radiant sky. He ruches up her dress, fabric sheeting off her body until she's all warm, decadent skin against a backdrop of their shed clothing. He groans inwardly at the sight of her, the shadow of her clavicles arching nearly above her soft breasts, tipped with that same aphrodisiac shade of desire that awaits between her lush thighs.
She smiles so sweetly at him, but her eyes are shaded with mischief as she opens her legs for him, teasing her folds beneath his heated gaze. He falls to his knees before her, palming her silken thighs, kissing the wet, sanguine warmth between her legs as though it were her mouth.
Her hips rise to meet him, rolling against his tongue as she brings one ankle gently against his back to guide them together, and Thane breathes out a low, pleasured groan. He loves this - the way her body talks for her, knowing full well he needs no encouragement but asking all the same, driven by biological instinct to share the most intimate parts of her humanity with him - a man from another world. Her body calls for him, beckons him, and he is both her servant and sire.
“Please, please Thane,” she whispers, hands reaching blindly for whatever parts of him she can reach.
He lifts from his place of worship with a breathy inhale, curling his arms around her thighs and hauling her bodily until she rests on the very edge of the cushion and the tip of his cock falls against her wet heat. And then he pushes forward, savoring the way her soft flesh yields to him, how her silken walls conform to every inch of his thick, ridged length, swallowing him to the hilt.
She breathes his name as he bottoms out. Takes a moment to catch her breath and then pushes up on her elbows and then her palms until she’s close enough to wrap one arm around his neck and pull him close. Thane folds an arm around her in turn, pumping in and out of her blessed heat. Thank the gods for her brilliant human flexibility.
The sun beats down on his back, his body shielding her vulnerable human skin from the worst of its rays, as he makes love to her with long, deep thrusts. He could never hope to articulate this specific kind of ecstasy - the ruddy heat of Sol crowning him with the same deep heat he seeks deep inside her.
It’s not what he would call fucking, but it’s not what he would call tender, either. It’s somewhere in between. It’s the heavy, sweet push and pull of two lovers, their minds blank of all thoughts beyond the tension, friction, heat, and pleasure that flows between them; tongues sliding together, hands clutching at skin and scales, at once desperate for release but determined not to reach it, to stay in this moment forever, unwilling to part with the sybaritic heaven they share. She locks one thigh around his hips, bracing herself with one hand so she can touch his face with the other, fingertips trailing almost too roughly against his sensitive ruby cheek as she grinds her cunt onto his heavy girth.
He needs her closer, needs her harder, consumed by the need to become one with her in that sanguine way only two lovers can. Parting from her for just a moment, he slides both knees on the cushions with her, hauling her up onto his thighs, watching for a moment as she grinds her flushed, creamy slit against his length before sinking himself back into her depths. They rock together until he’s sure beyond doubt that she’s out of her mind, blissed out and debauched before the combined heat of her sun and his desire. Until the satin sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of her throat is too laden to cling to her skin, and she moans his name into the wide open sky. Only then does he drop his hand between them, drawing wide, steady circles around that incandescent neural bullet between her thighs.
Her voice is lost as she comes, words and sounds dying in her throat as, at last, the pleasure is too much for her body to bear. He watches beneath heavy-lidded eyes as she tenses, cries out, and breaks, as her body sings like a plucked harpstring; knowing that for those precious few seconds, she is well and truly his, and his alone.
When her mind is wiped of all thoughts but him, his embrace, his kiss, and the pleasure at his hands, he can finally let go.
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Day 5
He wakes to the sound of music playing softly from another corner of the house. Decades old, by the sound of it, plucked notes singing on a guitar string beneath the melodic voice of a human weaving a tale of a dark desert highway. He’s heard this one before, playing over a crackling stationary radio in the cargo bay where she’d often done routine maintenance on Normandy’s ground vehicle.
Rising with a contented breath, he pads over to the common area to greet the day.
She’s wearing one of his robes, and nothing else. A breezy, cream-colored cotton garment that’s too wide in the shoulders for her more feminine frame. She lets it drop down one arm, the fabric collecting in the crook of her elbow just beneath where her hand rests on the door frame. The rest of it hangs open, gauzy fabric illuminated by the glowing sun streaming in from behind her, framing her in ethereal light. Though her face is in shadow, her artificial eyes are just bright enough to search his soul as she peers back at him.
In that moment, his Siha is more angel than warrior. She's posing for him, framing herself in a mental postcard to commemorate the effortless beauty of this place, this life, this love.
She pauses in the doorway for a good long while, as though she knows precisely what she's doing. Cocking her hip, idly running her long, calloused fingers through her hair, waiting for him to sear this image into his blessed eidetic mind for the rest of his days.
It’s so easy, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her again and again, bitter coffee on his tongue and warm sun on his face.
“I got a message from Hackett this morning,” she says softly.
The tone of her voice makes his stomach clench with unease, and he takes a moment to suppress the tremor in his throat.
“How long do we have?”
“Until tomorrow morning.”
He pulls her tight against his chest, as though by some miracle he could keep her from ever leaving the safety of his arms again. Shepard tucks her head into his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Thane.”
“Do not apologize, Siha.” Her hair is soft on his cheek, and he breathes deep as his eyes settle without focus on the rocky landscape outside her lovely picture-frame window. “This sojourn has already brought me more joy than you could ever know.”
When she kisses him, there’s a desperation in her that he’s not felt before, as though she shares his worry. That she’s been called away is unsurprising, in and of itself. But the tension in her shoulders makes his heart quake with an obdurate fear that will linger throughout what remains of their holiday.
He resolves to suppress it. If Shepard has taught him anything, it’s how work and purpose can stave off one’s demons, if only for a little while.
“What would you like for breakfast, Siha?”
She lifts her head then, and her smile is worth whatever heartache lies beyond the indefectible threshold of their abode.
He will take what he can from this moment. Reality can wait just a little longer.
#thane krios#shrios#zet writes things#my brain is broken#sorry about the typos i had to uninstall grammarly because ai is the devil#literally my head is full of lint right now#please enjoy#is this fluff?#aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA#mass effect fanfiction
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Writer Game
Look what I found in my drafts!
@celemee tagged me for this, thank you! It looks short and fun, so I'm inflicting it on everybody. Tagging: @sulky-valkyrie, @effelants, @tobythewise, @andrastesknickerweasel, @mordinette, @zet-sway, @roguelioness, @potatowitch, @for-the-ninth, @anneapocalypse, @rakshadow, @contreparry, @highwayphantoms, and everybody else who wants to!
Do you write in order? Yes. I'm a discovery writer. I write the story as it appears in the headlines of my very slow car.
Do you start with something in particular? I wish I had a system. Really, it would help so much! I often start with dialogue, but then I also like starting mid blowjob scene.
How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try? Clean draft. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay, listen. I write, I go back, I rewrite, I fiddle here and there, I rethink, I change everything, I write again, I rewrite, I fiddle... I'm doing everything they tell you not to do. What comes out after all that is a fairly clean chapter I'll throw into the world without a second look.
How many drafts do you go through? One. I mean, it's an unholy creation of my chaotic thought process and changes form like a shapeshifter while it grows, but in the end, at least for fanfic, it's one draft and out to AO3 it goes.
I'm terrified of having to change this process for the novel I'm writing.
Tell me about your process? Gods, I wish I had one. I think it has become clear by now that I'm just diving into the story and keep throwing it all on the page. If it looks right, it stays.
This process requires for me:
Quiet time
Tea
A little bit of life, like someone else also working nearby
Wrist protector
A good and/or pretty keyboard
I'm not even kidding, look at this pretty thing:
Thanks for reading!
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2023 End of Year Fic Wrap Up!
I was tagged by @swaps55 thank you!!
Words written (published or not, WIPs count!)
Published: 102,625
Written: 260,154
Total: 362,779
I only calculated what I wrote for Mass Effect alone, because I have written for a couple other fandoms but it was a pain getting all my ME writing together im not doing more lol. I have a lot of free time on my hands and my responsibilities didn't take up much of my mental energy. 2024 however, I'm sure there will be a lesser word count.
Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this year, and I improved a lot! So here's to another year of writing and growing as an author
Smut scenes written: many. I posted eight one shots/short fics that are mainly pwp. I have about a dozen one shots started.
New things I have tried: smut. ive been practicing it seriously for a year now (Jan 3 is when i started working on my comfort levels with it). I have tried different characters POV as well: Jack, Samara, Joker as examples. Samara's is very intimidating to me lol.
Fic I spent the most time on: The Kal Project: the first iteration of book one (Dossier: Tali (and Kal!) and the re-write of it (Pull Me Into Orbit).
Fic spent the least time on: cold love, hot blood which is edi/aria pwp and i just word vomitted onto the page and posted within an hour. I was issued a challenge and I rose to it
Favorite thing I wrote: this is hard to decide. Out of posted, either the missing piece or an end, once and for all.
Favorite thing I've read: HOW TO CHOOSE??? @jtownnn the spice of life ( i re-read this constantly) or unintended secrecy by @skittidyne (i read this in one sitting it was so good)
Writing goals for next year: oof. I'd like to finish book 1 of the Kal Project along with book 1 of sour apple baby. Along with more one shots! I do want to push myself with other character's POVs as well.
No pressure tags: @jtownnn @skittidyne @zet-sway @callista-curations @spacebunshep and if anyone sees this and wants to join! tag me!!
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(( Hello,
I never planned on making a personal post over here but let me explain a couple of things so that we understand each other better.
This account is run by two people. Me (Zet) and Miles. Journal entries are us writing together usually.
This account exists to have fun, make friends and express our love to the character Aziraphale .
It was just an ask blog first then became somewhat like a RP account with all the private messages & stuff. We enjoy keeping it in between. Haven't really decided on whether we wish to turn this blog into a real deal.
Go easy on us because even though Miles is a native speaker, I am not.
Also we kindly ask you to be nice.
(I've insecurities because English is not my first language and Miles has imposter syndrome so he usually writes something, sending me to double check. I've anxiety too but... it's all messed up honestly.)
So be nice.
Nice to be here, nice to meet you all.
Thank you for understanding.
- Zet & Miles ))
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Blazer's Glowfic Stats
✧It's my fourth glowbirthday!✧ And what better way to celebrate could there be than making a giant spreadsheet based off the output records?
(I think I started this sheet around my first anniversary, but it was unwieldy and desperately needed an overhaul and some updating. Now each year has its own sheet instead of all being in one that was a monster to scroll through! Huzzah!)
I'm mostly doing this out of vanity and not because I particularly expect it to be interesting to anyone else. Also data entry is fun.
(You can really tell where I started writing with Alicorn, can't you!)
Let's start with the basics: in my four years as a glowfic author, I've written a total of 280,184 words. I have 48 threads (three of which are marked complete), 26 proper templates (not including Zinglets, Zettings, or the one-off cats), and 153 character accounts. I have 103 galleries with a total of 2,300 icons (what a nice round number! I didn't even rig it it just came out that way I swear).
My template with the most instances is Alphabet Soup with 16, though Jida (15) and Starchild (14) are close behind. (There are 22 untemplated cat accounts but those of course don't count.)
My longest thread so far is of course your stare was holdin', which as of today is 128,638 words long, with 79,154 of those being written by me.
Here's a little baby table of my high scores (or, the most I'd ever written in a single day, midnight to midnight, at each time).
Out of the past 1,461 days, I've written at least a little on 828 of them, which is 56.7%! On 51 of those days (3.5% of the total; 6.2% of days I wrote at all), I wrote at least a thousand words.
There's no calendar month which I didn't write on at least one day of, though I've gone for longer than one at a stretch without tagging: 37 days across July and August of 2019. Conversely, my longest streak of consecutive tagging was 64 days, from September to November of 2021. Here's another tinysheet of my streak high scores:
By the calendar, there's only one month I've tagged on every day of, which is of course October 2021.
Here are each of the charts, day by day and per year:
(You can REALLY tell where I started writing with Alicorn, can't you!!)
(Love the one dot from the day of the moon shadeling princess thread wrecking the scale. Good times <3)
And here we are! This is lacking today's wordcount, even though technically I have another two hours or so before the anniversary of my first tag. It's just easier to count in years going forward if I only do it day-by-day, and anyways most of my count today was sonnets, so it doesn't make much difference. :Þ Speaking of years of going forward and writing glowfic, here's hoping for many more of those! It's been a fun and creatively fulfilling four.
And to wrap things up, here's the total over time with month-sized units. Pretty close to 300k! Not a lot when I compare it to nanos or whatever but I'm proud of it. Thanks for reading <3
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Running List of Fics
Hi, I’m Ryan! I took to writing fanfic as therapy, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in years. Mostly I write fluff and fun with the occasional introspective character study. Say hi! Fandom community can be awesome if you let it.
Mass Effect fics
Two Lovesick Idiots (tumblr) (Ao3) - mshenko; my first fic since college twenty years ago about a silly scrapbook, inspired by this artwork by @sinclairsolutions
Chamomile with Honey (tumblr) (Ao3) - Cortez & Vega; fluff about getting through a cold
Pretty Sweet Hoverboard (tumblr) (Ao3) - mshenko; in which Shepard annoys Kaidan with a hoverboard, inspired by this post from @zet-sway
Here at the End of Everything (tumblr 1, 2, 3) (Ao3) - a character study about Joker making the choice to leave Shepard on the Crucible, aka the fic that’s helping me fix whatever it was about the ME3 ending that broke my brain
Six Words for Shepard (tumblr) (Ao3) - Jack/fShep; gift fic for @all-truths-wait-in-all-things for Holiday Harbinger 2022! Jack writes a sestina for Shepard
Peace of Mind (tumblr) (Ao3) - mshenko; gift fic for @Cardhwion on AO3 for ShenkoSummer 2023. Kaidan navigates painful memories to figure out he’s in love
Small Comforts (tumblr) (Ao3) - fshenko; gift fic @palimpsetus on AO3 for ShenkoSummer 2023: Kaidan gets his ass kicked in beach volleyball and then breaks into a lighthouse.
Ticking Like A (tumblr) (Ao3) - Joker & Vega; gift fic for @vesperfloyd for the Hatboy Exchange 2023; James isn’t alright after Sanctuary, and Joker pushes him to figure out why
The Longest Night (tumblr) (Ao3) - mshenko; Kaidan deals with the guilt of surviving Virmire by holding vigil on the longest night; because sometimes you have to wait for the light
As the Revel Meets the Day (tumblr) (Ao3) - mshenko; Four times someone sees Shepard in pain, and one time Shepard finally, finally has peace; because sometimes you get to see the light return
Dragon Age fics
What Bards Sing About (tumblr) (Ao3) - Lacklon/Roland; four times during the show Lacklon notices Roland and blames it on his legs
Of Butterflies and Flying Dwarves (tumblr) (Ao3) - Lacklon/Roland; because there’s nothing funnier than putting a dwarf on a hoverboard
It’s Just a Rock, Man (tumblr) (Ao3) - Lacklon/Roland; how to court your Orlesian boyfriend in the most ridiculous way possible.
Essays
When Genocide Is The Best Option (tumblr) - my attempt to piece together my thoughts about the ending of Mass Effect 3, complete with references to Stranger Than Fiction and Samuel Beckett
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-> What are these Thoughts and- Wait, is that a dead body outline?
Yes, that behind you is a body outline. Green blood all over it. When it happened, there was a mess everywhere and the meal block was a no-entry place for the entire night. That was two nights ago. Look, you are not assigned to this case, so it's not your problem. You are not paid enough to investigate things that are not your problem.
Now, Thoughts are a mechanic similar to Sylladex, but it stores immaterial things. Concepts, ideas et cetera. You can access your Thoughts whenever and combine them. In such way you can reach conclusions. You can also share your Thougths with another person in conversation and they might offer their insight on them. You are dubious that this insight will be of any use to you. Thoughts are also not static, they evolve as your knowledge of the topic evolves. Since you have some teal stuff going on, you can hold an unlimited amount of Thoughts at time. You acquire Thoughts by acknowledging the topic at hand.
Your Sylladex can hold material objects, on the other hand, it is limited in size and cannot hold objects which you cannot describe with twelve words or less, because that is the rule of the Book Fetch Modus. To captchalogue an item you need to write its description into your Sylladexbook, whcih you have to physically carry around. You are bypassing that by storing the Sylladexbook in your Strife Slot, since your specibus is bookkind.
As you go over these simple concepts of your every-night life, someone walks into the meal block.
REVITA ANFELS [REVITA] has started a conversation with TOLPEN XLIBRI [TOLPEN]!
REVITA: Hey sup girl wha7s up???????
TOLPEN: I am making a valianT ZET fuTilE ATTEmpT aT WaRming up mZ mEal. I do noT Wish To EngagE in a convERsaTion WiTh Zou.
REVITA: Giving me 7he cold shoulder righ7 away baby awwwwwww theres no reason for 7ha7 i promise 7ha7 im nice no7 7ha7 cobal7 your lusus warned you abou7 (>_O) You look like a 7roll 7hats never really had i7 pi7ched for 7hem properly. We could fix 7ha7 7oge7her a7 some poin7.
TOLPEN: AnfEls I am aWaRE of ZouR sERial loW-commiTmEnT caliginous EscapadEs (I Wish I had bEEn spaREd of all This ExTEnsivE infoRmaTion), nEvERThElEss I am noT going To bE anoThER of ZouR shoRT-livEd piTch TumblEs.
REVITA: Well wor7h a 7ry you never know. If you change your mind im here whenever baby.
TOLPEN: I Will noT. NoW unlEss Zou aRE hERE To REsToRE ThE poWER To ThE hEaTing uniT, lEavE mE alonE. ImmEdiaTElZ.
REVITA: Oooooooh girl do i have a swee7 deal for you. Wha7s your legi7ier?
TOLPEN: WhZ doEs ThaT concERn Zou?
REVITA: Le7s say 7ha7 I have a spare ba77ery for 7he hea7ing uni7 which i would be willing 7o share for a couple of minu7es. Bu7 squid pro qo baby.
REVITA: I need 7he service of a7 leas7 second 7ier legislacera7or. Wha7 you say?
You say yes.
[Assistance] added to Thoughts.
After a couple of minutes you ravenously devour your gluten noodles in grubsauce at adequade temperature. You wash the grub box and ang safely captchalogue it again.
[Missing battery] discarded from Thoughts.
[First][Previous][Next]
Sylladex: [Grub Box (empty)]
Thoughts: [Assistance]
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4x4 Appreciation Tag Game
Rules: pick four blogs you love and for each list four things what you love about this blog! tag the blogs to keep the game going :) (Only if you wish to participate and have time, of course!) You can also tag fewer or more blogs, and list fewer or more than four things if that‘s what you want.
Tagging: @sillyliterature
Things I love about your blog:
• First and foremost your fic Arashu’s Gift is a fine piece of art. Love it. (Not directly on your blog but linked, so I count it as a feature of your blog.)
• So much beautiful Thane content. Always worth a follow. I love going through your Thane tag
• Not afraid to reblog spicy Thane content which is always appreciated 😂😉
• That you often tag me so I can see the sexy stuff 😅 Don‘t wanna miss out on it.. thanks for that!
Also tagging @zet-sway
• You have some of the best icons I’ve seen on Tumblr. That’s literally Thane’s ass and damn.
• So many awesome drell headcanons. Both yours and the ones you reblog are awesome.
• Plenty of Irikah appreciation on your blog. Irikah is life.
• So much spicy Thane appreciation.. I‘ve yet to read most of your writing but what I‘ve read so far was hot.
@spectralhero
• Liselle appreciation. She is underrated and deserves more recognition.
• Also another fellow asari fan and Aria SIMP.
• Aaand someone who can appreciate Ashley Williams
• You contribute to my dash being filled with hot women 😅
@mistresstrevelyan
• Your Shrios screenshots are so fucking gorgeous I‘m in awe.
• I also love your Katja Shepard and she is so fucking beautiful and interesting. Thane is a lucky man.
• I love your fashion tag, especially the outfits for Katja. All the stuff she wears is so freaking beautiful and I just love people who reblog stuff their muses would wear.
• And I am a sucker for people who reblog poetry and literature quotes that fit their OTP and muse. Love the quotes you reblog.
.
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Texan word:
raz
(very long below so uhhhh also things are subject to change)
1. In the sense of "rice"
Alternative spellings:
ras (sometimes used by speakers who use (s) for /s/; proscribed)
ris (Old Script)
roz (Northern eye-dialect)
Pronunciation:
Standard: /rɑːs/ [ʁɑːs]
Northern: /roːs/ [roːs], [rʊs]
Central: /ras/ [ʁɑːs], [ʁɔːs]
Southern: /roːs/
Etymology:
From Middle Texan *rás, from Classical English rice, from Middle English rys, borrowed from Old French ris, in turn, borrowed from Old Italian riso (alternatively risi), from Latin oriza, borrowed once again from Byzantine Greek ὄρυζα (óruza; yielding Modern Hellenic υρζα), of unclear origin but probably from an East Iranian language, which is in turn, possibly from Sanskrit व्रीहि (vrīhi), then speculated to be of Dravidian descent, and finally, from an Austroasiatic language of some sort.
It is cognates with several American languages: Missippic ras; Georgian ras; South Floridian rase; Carolinian ros; Virginian róo; Appalachian ror; New Yorkian rois, lois; Pennsylvanian reih (and hence Standard American reis, via Literary Middle Pennsylvanian reis, reice) Ohioan rah; Californian rai; Cascadian ruis; and North New Englandic reisse.
Definition:
noun (countable and uncountable; plural razir)
(strictly) rice; a highly important cereal, the editable seeds of the grass genus Oryza, specifically O. sativa.
(broadly) Oryza or O. sativa and everything produced from it. (Also referred to as a raspleynz (rice-plant))
Hyperonyms: ziriou (archaic; cereal, grain of a grass), krof (crop), zet (seed, embryotic plant), füt (food)
Hyponyms: Eyfriknraz (African rice), Zenrarraz (rice grown in Asia)
Coordinate terms:
cereals: barley (barley), korn (maize), eüt/eütz (oats), feüyneü (acha, findi, fonio) ra (rye), wet/wez (wheat), zorgm (sorghum)
Synonyms: Reis (American scientific name for Oryza), razet (definition 1)
Grammar:
It is both countable and uncountable. The singular is raz and the plural is razir.
When referring to rice as a collective, the grammatically singular form is used. When used to refer to several individual seeds of rice, the plural is used.
A single Orysa plant is grammatically singular; several are plural. Orysa collectively is singular as well.
Example sentences:
Noun phrases
A bou w'raz. (a bowl of rice)
Tengle raz. (tasty rice, delicious rice)
Full sentences
Ser d'razir pikin. (she's harvesting the rice)
Iz beyz raz in weyz eynwarmeyntz dgreü. (it's best to grow rice in wet conditions)
D'Mizipe produser yüyt kwondirer w'raz. (The Mississippi river produces enormous quantities of rice)
2. In the sense of "to write"
Alternative spellings:
wrice (Old Script; outdated, used from around the 26th to the 28th Centuries)
wrisce (Old Script)
Pronunciation:
Standard: /rɑːs/ [ʁɑːs]
Northern: /roːs/ [roːs], [rʊs]
Central: /ras/ [ʁɑːs], [ʁɔːs]
Southern: /roːs/
Etymology:
From Middle Texan *ráts, from Classical English write, from Middle English writen, from Old English wrītan, from Proto-West Germanic *wrītan, from Proto-Germanic *wrītaną, from Proto-Indo-European *wrey-.
Definition:
verb (past reüz; present participle rariny; past participle riten; infinitive draz)
(transitive and intransitive) to write; to escribe; to carve, print, press, or otherwise put symbols on a surface (typically paper or a paper-like item), as a method of communication.
(transitive) to give an impression, image, idea, sense, etc.; to affect a person's perspective on or idea of someone or something, either positively or negatively.
Synonyms: dro, eyzkraw, marh, peyn, pleyz
Conjugation:
lemma form: raz. verb, strong verb, somewhat irregular.
non-finite forms
infinitive: draz
present participle: rariny
past participle: riten
finite forms
first person present singular: raz
first person present plural: wraz, raz
first person past singular: reüz
first person past plural: wreüz, reüz
second person present: yraz
second person past: yreüz
third person singular present: raz
third person present plural: raz, draz*
third person past singular: reüz
third person past plural: dreüz
*the third person plural form draz is not often used, because it is identical to the infinitive form. Many authoritative organizations proscribe draz as the 3rd per. plural form and instead prefer just raz. It is also rare across most Texan vernacular dialects.
Example sentences
Verb phrases including an object (or predicate)
Tü buk ratiny. (is writing a book, are writing a book)
Jeyr jar jeyple riten. (has impacted her positively)
Raz d'im. (write to him)
Full sentences
Your beyt esseir in ratiny. (you [plural] are bad at writing essays)
En Mendey, se reüz me a letter. (she wrote me a letter on Monday)
Abeoz deyz, yaü keynz yraz. (you [singular] can't write about that)
Je wor a poem ratiny. (he was writing a poem)
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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Writer Tag Game!
I was tagged by @stormikins
No pressure tags: @angstyastro @zet-sway @spookyvalentine
Do you write in order?
Definitely not which is why my mass effect series, Memento Vivere, took so long to start publishing. The stuff that inspired me to get started was usually in mass effect 2 which is the middle of the story and not great for posting in order. I also try to write things down the moment I get inspiration for it so I can come back to it later which has been really handy to have those notes later.
Do you start with something in particular?
I will start with the most inspiring bits first and worrying about filling in the gaps later. That helps me write more than forcing myself to worry about things that I don’t enjoy as much like the title or summary.
How fully formed does your writing come out first try?
Pretty well formed. I used to be a perfectionist until I realized how much that was truly holding me back, especially when I thought that first draft had to be the only draft. Even so a finished draft will at least be as close to how I want it to look before publishing, just in need of edits, word choice revision, and some polishing.
How many drafts do you go through?
One technically? Or at least it feels like one to me. I open up the document and I write. When that draft is done, I edit it a few times before I go to publish it. Then I usually go through on AO3 to spot what I missed during edits.
Tell me about your process:
I will usually start with that core inspiration and write out that scene as long as that inspiration has me. As I add on to it, I will start doing a rough outline and write notes or a couple sentence about what will happen in certain scenes about where I want that scene to be. Then I bounce around to where inspiration takes me and then try to connect those scenes together which is usually easier as writing the other scenes helped fill in the gaps.
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Fanfic: Ocean's Prayer
Or, Thane is a dom for hire.
[Read on AO3] - Rated E for EXTREMELY SPICY TIMES
Pairing: Thane/FShep | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~13000
Featuring ART by @messydiabolical!!
She reached for her omni-tool and read over Thane's proposal again. His final summary promised new experiences, intimacy so deeply indulgent that he actually warned her that her standards might be permanently rearranged. He had even included the words "fucked within an inch of your life." She could practically read it in his voice, could almost feel his weight pressing down on her, kissing his venom into her mouth.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Shepard heard a voice shout from across the bar. A pretty asari waved a lavender hand as she approached.
“Piper! It���s so good to see you again! And look what you’ve done with your hair. It looks great!” she said as she pulled Shepard in for a tight hug. “Come sit, come sit.”
Shepard let her lead the way to a table for two and set a gift bag down, summoning a warm smile even though she felt like hell. “I was traveling on Earth and thought of you.”
Ruby, Shepard’s date, was dressed sharply in a pretty, thigh-length dress that showed off strappy heels and a teasing amount of cleavage. Her nails were lacquered in gleaming silver with white tips, eyes wreathed in smokey makeup that complimented her markings. By all accounts, a gorgeous person.
Even so, Shepard had little taste for this preamble.
Shepard’s name wasn’t Piper, and her date’s name was probably not Ruby. The neat little gift bag sitting on the table contained a sum of credits for the escort sitting across from her. Shepard was getting laid tonight.
She had come with glowing reviews, a promise to give Shepard a night she would remember. All Shepard wanted was to get her brains fucked out. Preferably by someone dependable, in case she wanted to hook up again in the future. Instead, she was ad-libbing false answers to questions about her life, under the pretense of “getting to know each other.”
She tried to hide her impatience - Ruby was friendly, a little sultry, and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and Shepard supposed that was the draw of this kind of thing. A lot of people, she’d been told, sought a personal connection to complete the experience. The trouble was, what could she say? That she was on a life-or-death mission to save the world?
"You mentioned you were in the reserves. Why'd you leave?"
Shepard half chuckled and half coughed. “Injured on the job,” she said with a shake of her head.
Ruby nodded. “Sorry to hear, must've been bad if they let you out early."
Shepard downed the rest of her drink. "Bad enough that I'd rather not talk about it."
“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” Ruby, placing a warm hand over Shepard’s loosely clenched one. “How about we go somewhere a little quieter?”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The sex was good, at least.
Ruby had, indeed, fucked her brains out. But as Shepard settled back into her own bed aboard the Normandy that night, she couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. Some part of her left unsatisfied in a way she had difficulty explaining. The whole affair had been such an obvious attempt to make her feel like a normal human being. And though Shepard was blessed with many skills, pretending she had 'normal problems' was not one of them.
Unable to sleep, she flicked on her omni-tool, its orange glow near blinding in the darkness, and decided to respond to her follow-up questions. Ravishing Rendezvous, Inc definitely laid it on thick. They wanted her business, and they weren’t shy about it. She settled into her pillows as she opened the questions.
On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate your experience?
A solid three out of five. Mood and atmosphere? Two out of five. Intimacy? Four out of five - minus one star because she really did not want someone moaning a fake name again. Ruby herself? Five out of five.
Help us curate your next experience by answering the following yes or no questions:
More human, or less human?
Definitely less human. She had slept with humans before and she didn’t need a live visual comparison to remind her of all the weird shit going on in her own body. She had hoped an asari companion would be far enough off to satisfy her. She had only been partially right.
More romantic, or less romantic?
Maybe less? She wasn't sure. Romance was unfamiliar territory, but she definitely didn't want roses or chocolate or… whatever people defined as romantic in galactic space.
The next one made her raise an eyebrow.
More masculine, or more feminine?
She hesitated, thought about choosing "no comment," but reconsidered. Masculine didn’t have to mean male - although she wasn’t opposed to the idea.
A new question appeared on her screen.
More dominant, or more submissive?
Shepard let her arm flop back on the bed as she thought about it. Submissive would imply she wanted to take the lead. It wasn’t a bad idea, but she worried she would come on too strong. Did Ravishing Rendezvous just have the perfect individual waiting in the wings for 200+ pounds of reconstructed Alliance marine to come crashing into them? Someone who would bear the brunt of her energy while also making sure they came out satisfied too? Some people get off on this, she reminded herself. But Shepard, more so than anything, didn’t have the mental energy to place the entirety of a stranger's satisfaction in her hands - she already spent her days worrying about everyone but herself. No, she wanted someone who would take charge.
She tapped her finger on “dominant.” It seemed like a move in the right direction.
Are you interested in viewing our BDSM specialists?
Shepard blinked a few times and squinted, wanting to be sure she read the question right.
She’d been fucked roughly before, but never dominated. Never tied up or bossed around, never controlled. The idea wasn’t familiar but the potential challenge was exciting. Like dropping into combat on a planet she’d never been to and coming back covered in sweat and stinking of eezo. Or navigating all the pain and adrenaline and exhaustion of her N7 promotion - being brought low and forged anew on the other side.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed “Yes."
What followed were a handful of questions to gauge her interests and experience, before finally displaying for her a list of names and faces.
To say there were some interesting options was an understatement. More turians than she could count, a couple of krogan and asari, and even one or two quarians. There were a few smug-looking human men that she immediately thumbs-downed.
One person, however, caught her attention right away.
Enter a world of fathomless pleasures…
You know him as Ocean’s Prayer, the legend behind Fornax's renowned kink publication. Thane Krios has stepped out of the shadows for a one-on-one affair you’ll never forget. With a wide range of specialties ranging from softcore bondage to your most craven fetishes, Sere Krios offers a handcrafted experience tailored to your heart's secret desires. One taste of his venom and you’ll never be the same again.
Exclusions apply. In-person consultation required. Discretion guaranteed.
Shepard sucked in a breath, staring at the image of an emerald-colored drell with a deep crimson throat. A striking three-quarter turn portrait framed him at waist height against a black background, bright light deepening the interesting divisions that decorated his forehead, drawing her eyes to the glossy scales and velvety folds of his cheek. He wore a simple, low-cut shirt that showed off his thick arms and strong, broad chest. Even things that would have been understated on any other person were impossible to look away from because he was just so different. Colorful and serene, but radiating a strength of confidence that Shepard desperately wished to reclaim for herself.
And not only was he gorgeous, he also came highly recommended, and his profile was heaped with stellar ratings.
She whistled when she saw his base fee. Fuck it. Cerberus was paying anyway. Christ, she didn’t think she’d ever seen a drell in person.
She bit her lip and sent off a contact request.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
His office was located on the 35th floor of Three Nerium Plaza, a skyscraper on the southern end of Nos Astra.
Shepard waited in the elevator with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her leather jacket. She’d been in all manner of stressful meetings before, but somehow even her appearance before the damn council hadn’t made her this antsy. She checked her reflection in the elevator’s mirrored back wall, straightening her jacket, unzipping it to just above the center of her chest. Should she have worn something less casual? Was it a stupid idea to reveal herself as the Commander Shepard? This was ridiculous. She’d already fussed an inordinate amount for what was only a preliminary meeting.
The elevator opened into an underwhelming carpeted lobby, thankfully devoid of any other people. The directory led her down a series of hallways to the opaque walnut door of “T. Krios Consulting Services” - a neat little turn of phrase that could mean anything on Illium - beyond which was a waiting room, of sorts. Comfortable-looking chairs sat empty beside a wall lined with real, paper books with worn spines and interesting titles. Shepard fidgeted as she looked around the room, unsure what she expected in the first place. There was only one door, presumably leading to his office. Finally, her Omni-tool lit up with a soft ping, and she slowly opened the door.
His voice was the first thing that hit her as she entered a stunningly minimalist corner office.
“Good evening," he greeted with a smile, stepping out from behind a gleaming onyx desk and extending a hand. “You must be my 8 o'clock appointment.”
She could practically feel every syllable in her bones. Wow.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Krios,” she said with confidence she didn’t quite feel. His scaled palm was warm against hers, fingers gripping tight in a way that drove her heart rate just a little higher. He was shorter than she expected but possessed a larger-than-life quality in a black vest with a collared shirt beneath, the first three buttons of which were undone to arrange the material around his neck and upper chest. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
"Just Thane, if you don’t mind. Please, make yourself comfortable. Will you be using a pseudonym or shall I call you by the name on your contact form?"
Shepard seated herself and tried to relax. “Depends - are you recording?”
“Never, unless you wish it,” he said as he sat opposite her. She couldn’t help but notice he had no terminal, no pens or paper, and no datapad. Only a lamp, a steaming mug of tea, and a carafe of fresh water with a pair of empty glasses.
"Shepard is fine. Between us only."
"Of course, Miss Shepard. Your reputation precedes you. What brings you to me this evening?"
The way he omitted the word "Commander" from his tongue had a way of putting her at ease that she didn't expect. She cleared her throat softly.
“I’m an ex-military officer involved in a sensitive operation. I’ve got some shore leave coming before we kick off, and I’m hoping to… forget about all that for a while.”
“I see. A little distraction to take the edge off,” he said with a slight nod, sitting back in his chair as though they were having the most normal conversation of all time. “I am honored. Do you have any questions about what I do?”
“Yeah, how does this work?”
“We will discuss your needs and go over necessary safety information. After our meeting, I will submit a proposal to you. Let me be clear that the proposal is not a contract, but a document over which we can agree on do’s and don’ts, must-haves, and, if you wish, an itinerary for the evening.”
Shepard raised a brow. “...if I wish?”
“Some of my more risk-averse clients like to know what’s in store. Others prefer to be… surprised.”
On impulse, she said, “Surprise me.”
The way he smiled made her itchy with some kind of desire.
“You may take as much time as you need to review my proposal, ask questions, and make changes as you see fit - consultation is free. Once we have come to an agreement, we will select a date and time. A deposit is required to secure your booking.”
“And this will be discreet?"
"Your privacy is my first priority, Miss Shepard."
"No recording devices?"
He gave a small smile that reached his beautiful dark eyes.
"I have no need. My species possess eidetic memory. I assure you, whatever you say within these walls and in my studio will stay between us.”
Her brows shot up in surprise. What else didn’t she know about drell?
“If you wish, we can move on to the specifics of your needs. Tell me more about the nature of your burdens.”
Shepard took a deep breath and leaned forward. She'd thought about this.
"When I'm on the ground team, it feels like I don't think. There's no time for worry or delay, no time for pain. It's like a veil comes down and separates me from all the things that keep me up at night. I just act."
She lowered her eyes, fixated on his hands. But Thane waited, not the slightest bit perturbed. It was almost unnerving.
“So many people put their lives in my hands without a second thought. I get so lost in the mission that the silence of my own ship is unbearable. I come back topside ready to take on the galaxy, and there’s nothing but an empty bed and a cold shower waiting for me. I’m pent up.”
Thane nodded, assessing her with those enormous black eyes. “You indicated on your dossier that you are looking for someone to lead you, but you have not endeavored to engage in submissive play before.”
She hadn’t been anywhere near as eloquent on her contact form, but that was the jist of it.
“That’s correct. Will that be a problem?”
“Not at all. Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind for your first time? There are no wrong answers; please be as plain as you feel you need to be.”
This was the part she was most nervous about. On her own ship, she made demands easily. But this wasn’t her ship, and these requests weren’t for the good of her crew or mission. Asking for such personal, intimate attention made her feel uncomfortably selfish.
“I was sort of hoping you’d have some suggestions because I’ve only had one partner in the last four or so years. The alliance doesn't give us loads of time or space for hookups in general, much less experimenting. But I…” she sat back, propped an elbow up on the armrest, and laid her temple on her fingertips, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
“Restraints are fine. Ordering me around is also fine, as long as you don’t ask me to do something ridiculous. I can take pain, but I don’t want you to be cruel. I just want to be… acknowledged. I want someone to address my needs because heaven knows I can’t do it myself. Push my boundaries, restrain me, but don't humiliate me. I've been fighting a losing battle for years; I didn't come here to lose another one.” She forced herself to meet his gaze as though it would confirm he was listening. “Whatever you do, I want you to fuck me within an inch of my life. I want to leave here so thoroughly railed that my ship's doctor orders me on bed rest.
The way his gorgeous mouth quirked sent a brief flicker of need ghosting down her spine. Whatever his intentions, that fleeting expression told her she'd been heard loud and clear. The hard part was over. She exhaled and decided to help herself to some ice water.
“Your request is duly noted. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Do you have any injuries I should know about? Any places on your body I should avoid?"
Shepard paused, halfway through chugging her glass.
"I'm… not sure."
Thane sat forward and folded his hands loosely on his desk. His voice was kind. "The question is for your safety, although I acknowledge the topic may be hard to discuss.”
She worked her jaw, not knowing where to begin. He knew who she was, but did he know why she was?
"I died," she said at last. And if he was surprised by this, he didn't let on.
"What manner of trauma caused your NDE?"
Shepard shook her head. "Not a near-death experience. It’s complicated. I’m not sure which parts of me are still me."
His brow softened. "Forgive me, but have you considered seeking-"
Shepard closed her eyes and raised a hand. "Not what I came here for. If it's a deal breaker, I can leave right now - no fuss." She actually wasn't sure she wouldn't be upset, but she refused to let on. Every moment she spent doubting herself only made her feel worse.
"Understood, Miss Shepard. We can work through any unplanned discomforts as they arise. Do you have any medications that may need to be administered as a result of your… experience?”
She shook her head. While technically untrue, her medications were ported into her via implant every several weeks.
"I will also need an emergency contact."
She raised a brow.
“It would be unfair to expect you to account for every foreseeable risk. As a safety precaution for both of us, I cannot book your session without a contact on file."
Who in the world could she even…
"Can I get back to you on that?"
"Certainly, but please be aware that without a contact, I can only hold your booking for 48 hours."
"That's fine. I was out for two years. A lot of my contacts are… unreachable right now."
Thane smiled warmly at her. "Very well. You will have my proposal to review by sunrise. Consider it something to build on; there is no need to rush into something you aren't comfortable with."
Shepard let out a sigh of relief. "Great, looking forward to it."
“There is one more important matter to discuss.”
Shepard raised a brow as Thane reached into a drawer and produced a small vial, no larger than her little finger.
"As you indicated in your consultation request, you have not been with a drell before, I would prefer you to establish your reaction to my species’ venom. If you find yourself to be averse to its effects, it would be ideal to know before we begin."
“So you’re saying I might be… allergic to you?” Shepard tried to temper her reaction but her face scrunched in confusion anyway. “Is this like a dextro/levo thing?”
“Not at all. Drell venom is known for its hallucinogenic properties. Many of my clients have sought me out for this reason.”
“Oh.” She took the vial and rolled it in her palm. There was maybe half a teaspoon or less of clear amber fluid inside, and it coated the glass as it moved. She stared at it dumbly, wondering in the deafening silence just how this material was extracted from the man before her.
“I understand you are on a sensitive mission,” he said with a gentle tone. “You may refuse, of course. But in that case, I would recommend abstaining from oral contact and insemination during our session.”
She nearly choked when he said insemination, but his point was easy enough to understand. He was saying she couldn't kiss him, which seemed a damn shame given his perfectly shaped mouth. The rest of his point was… something she would be mulling over for days.
“How intense is this stuff? What should I be prepared for?” Will your semen really make me hallucinate?
“Most humans describe a dreamy state of mind, a feeling of being relaxed, and reduced inhibitions. Some report seeing enhanced colors, trails of light and sound, and heightened sensitivity. In my experience, it will occasionally make a partner more… glib.”
She looked up at him. “You have people in here getting high and spilling secrets?”
Thane gave a small quirk of his lips. “I can't say.”
“How long does it last?”
“That depends on your metabolism, but usually no more than forty-five minutes.”
After a moment's consideration, Shepard pocketed the vial. Whatever experience was waiting for her, she wanted all of it. At the very least she knew Chakwas wouldn’t breathe a word about it if she reacted badly.
Oh.
“Actually, I do have an emergency contact for you.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sure as he’d said, his proposal arrived in the early hours of the morning. Secure and alone with a coffee and a plate of Gardner’s famous “Blueberry Triangles,” she held her breath, opened the message, and began to read.
To say this was a detailed document was an understatement. Thane had gone so far as to include definitions, clarifications, and FAQ’s alongside diagrams and lists of equipment he had at his disposal. Shepard’s sense of modesty had long since been eroded by years of enlistment, but even still, she blushed through half-clinical/half-pornographic descriptions of what people and technology were capable of in the year 2185.
By the time she reached the end, she was already feeling a little hot under the collar. His email signature read “with pleasure." No kidding, she thought.
Over the next several days, questions, clarifications, and other caveats were exchanged before they finally settled on everything. In the meantime, she did a little research of her own. Drell venom, she'd learned, could be extracted any number of ways, but the most popular strategy was to isolate the compound from saliva or "other" bodily fluids (something she had spent ample time 'thinking about' before bed).
Her sample vial had been sitting on her desk for days, innocuous but impossible to ignore. Based on her reading, it seemed harmless enough. But it was hard to escape the fact that it had come from his body. Why this felt different than eating out her first girlfriend, she had no idea. Maybe because her first girlfriend hadn't tied her up while she did it.
Having just returned from a firefight on Aeia, she grabbed the vial on her way into the shower, set it on the vanity, and stared it down as she washed her hair. She’d tried hallex once a few years back, out with her unit on shore leave. It wasn’t an experience she cared to revisit. Everything she knew told her it would be a much more mild experience. After all, how could he run a successful operation if he was poisoning everyone he fucked? And boy, she wanted to fuck him.
The apprehension was getting her nowhere. Shepard squared her shoulders, cladding herself in the determination she had felt just hours earlier when she liberated the survivors of the Gernsbeck. The cold was the furthest thing from her mind when the automatic water system timed out; she opened the vial and downed every drop.
It was thick, as she expected. It had the consistency of warm honey, tasted like salty citrus, and perhaps most surprisingly, felt kind of carbonated on her tongue. There were no bubbles in the vial, she was sure, but it tingled all the way down her throat.
Shepard stood there, dripping water, skin prickling in the cold, waiting for something to happen. Five minutes went by. Nothing. No dreaminess, no reduced inhibitions, and certainly no colors. She shivered, too hard focused on the venom to move the few inches she would need to towel off.
Nothing happened.
Until she moved.
Warmth flooded her limbs the moment she reached for her towel. She opened the bathroom door to a world of new sensations. Light gleamed off her model ship collection like twinkling lights. Her fish were brilliant blurs of color against their soothing blue backdrop. On the other side of the cabin, her armor locker interface glowed like a campfire. She wasn't cold anymore, not in the slightest. She felt comfortable - relaxed, even. The tension left her shoulders the moment she flopped naked on her bed, watching the stars go by in dazzling flashes and streaks.
Oh, yeah. This was nice.
She reached for her omni-tool and read over Thane's proposal again. His final summary promised new experiences, intimacy so deeply indulgent that he actually warned her that her standards might be permanently rearranged. He had even included the words "fucked within an inch of your life." She could practically read it in his voice, could almost feel his weight pressing down on her, kissing his venom into her mouth.
Something hot and untamed inside her told her this man didn't make promises he couldn't keep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Jeez Commander, you got a hot date or something?"
Shepard was jumpy with anticipation. Her inbox was empty for the first time in weeks, her crew had their assignments, and her shore leave was cleared. Nos Astra's docking bay came into view.
"What's it to you, flight lieutenant?"
"I'm just saying, you're crowding the bridge right now."
"It's my ship," she said, one hand resting on the back of Joker's chair as the ship settled into its docking clamps. Her omni-tool pinged with a preset reminder. Forty-five minutes till showtime.
"Must be nice."
"You say that like you aren't also getting shore leave." She pushed off his chair with a playful shove.
"Uh-huh. We're all getting sloshed at a bar called Chocolate Starfish, but someone isn't coming with."
"Yup," she replied, dismissive.
"Definitely a hot date," he muttered as she made her way off the ship.
A sleek, luxury cab was waiting to take her through the heart of Nos Astra under a brutal sun. This place looked nothing like it did at night. She wondered how many other individuals in Thane's line of work had their offices and studios in the gleaming towers that crowded the city byways.
This time, she docked at the upper taxi pavilion on the 75th floor and took the lift down to the same level as before, loosening her shoulders as though preparing for a combat drop.
Soon enough, she stood face to face with a pair of frosted glass doors. A soft, warm light shone beyond, giving the portal a sense of ominous liminality - a transition between worlds. On one side, the world she came here to escape from. On the other, an unknown kind of pleasure awaited. Fingers wrapped around the cold stainless steel handle and she breathed deep.
The door opened with a rush of warm air. Smooth bamboo floors led her through a new reality of warm colors and textures that, while unexpected, helped put her at ease. She followed the corridor around a short bend and entered a gorgeous room with a vaulted ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Illium’s dizzying metropolis. To her left was a neatly made bed; to her right, a sofa accented with red patterned pillows, and overhead, a series of dangling artisanal incandescent bulbs.
Thane himself stood before the wall of windows with hands clasped behind his back. He was facing away from her, and from this distance, she could gauge his height and build much better than when they had met on opposite sides of his desk. From his wide shoulders and downward, to the satisfying taper of his hips and an absolutely perfect ass, he possessed a classic silhouette she found immediately enticing.
He wore a neatly tailored cream-colored button-down, sleeves tucked neatly into themselves just above his elbows, and dark-colored pants. To her surprise, he wore no shoes and no adornments. He looked comfortable, in fact, as he turned to greet her arrival.
“Welcome, Siha,” he said warmly.
Shepard wondered if Siha was some kind of cultural term for submissive, but said nothing. On instinct, she straightened her back and shoulders, eyes straight ahead as he approached. Her immediate shift to full attention seemed to amuse him, because he lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, now just a step away from her. A hand reached across the shallow divide as he passed, settling softly on her arm.
Shepard clung to that point of contact as he circled behind her, stroking up and down her arms and shoulders, squeezing and releasing each muscle.
“At ease, soldier.”
Beneath his chaste touch, everything seemed clearer than before. His words took her back to a simpler time, back to when expectations had been heaped upon her, but they were clear, easy to identify, and even easier to obey. Demands that didn't require her to perform the impossible or weigh the worth of her entire species.
“Within these walls, your purpose is to serve me. Until sunset, you will address me as 'Sir.' Please me, and I will reward you. Disappoint me, and you may find yourself reprimanded.”
He paused. She knew what to do.
"Yes sir."
It didn't matter if he meant to threaten or intimidate her. No, when Thane spoke to her this way, she felt relieved, reminded that he was here to do the thinking for her. Shepard exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and he made a small sound of approval.
“Tell me your safe words.”
“Cherry for stop, sir. Kiwi for pause.”
His hands smoothed over her lower back and hips. “And if you find yourself unable to speak?”
“Two taps, sir, with hands or feet.”
“Good, Siha.”
His touch lingered on her like a phantom as he withdrew and circled around to stand two paces before her.
“Please undress.”
Despite having been in various states of undress in front of other soldiers many times, this was altogether different. Thane was not shy about the way he assessed her, making no attempt to avert his eyes, although his expression remained neutral. Her shirt came off first, and she looked to him when she realized she didn’t know what to do with it. His expression betrayed nothing, so she elected to fold it quickly and place it on the ground beside her feet.
Her boots and socks came off next, and then her pants. Each time she looked at him, he did not react, and so she continued, unhooking her bra. The cool air helped distract her from the color rising to her cheeks.
When she reached her panties, he took a step forward. “That’s enough. Place your feet three inches apart.”
An oddly specific order, but easy enough to follow. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she settled into parade rest, palms out and overlapping against her backside.
Thane collected her pile of clothing and placed it somewhere by the door. Her skin prickled, whether due to temperature or anticipation, she couldn't tell. When he returned, he touched her shoulder again, this time with much more care. His scaled fingers traced a glowing scar.
“Does this cause you pain, Siha?”
“No sir."
“I admit I've never seen anything like this before. Do not hesitate to tell me if they cause you distress.”
Shepard took a deep breath. Reading people had never been her strong suit, but she understood what he was saying. Somehow, it was more comforting than isolating. It felt like he cared.
“Yes sir,” she confirmed, perhaps softer than she intended.
For a moment, he continued to wander, and although his touch was chaste, she felt her body stir beneath his eyes and hands. Trust was a frail vine, sun-seeking, crawling from the remains of her damaged ego. Something about him was calming in a way that felt disarming. She wanted him to touch her, badly enough that she didn’t flinch when he began to dress her with a length of rope.
This time, he was less chaste. He allowed his hands to brush along her curves as he worked, warm scales pressing into soft flesh, crisscrossing the valley between her breasts in a way that framed them prominently to his attention. Heat collected along the lines he traced across her bare skin, the rope creating a sort of harness around her torso. She bit her lip when he finished his work and circled behind her without further contact.
Her arms were next. Another length of cord slipped beneath her biceps, drawing them behind her. The position pulled her shoulders back, elbows some inches apart in their bindings as he continued, forcing her chest into the bright strokes of sunlight pouring through the windows. Her forearms followed, and then her wrists, palms folding together. There was a firm tug as he secured a knot above her hands.
Shepard flexed in her restraints, testing her range of motion. He had given her enough space that her arms could slide together, but not comfortably.
"Too tight?" He asked.
"No. -no sir."
Strong hands settled on her hips, textured hands dragging across her skin as he circled her, either inspecting his work or her body - probably both.
“Now then, where to begin?” he said as he came to a stop before her. Her skin tingled in his wake, absorbing the heat of his touch, and she sighed as his palms smoothed over her breasts. He seemed pleased by her reaction. “Perhaps here. As you know, my species does not possess such anatomy.”
He continued to touch her, capturing her nipples in the spaces between his fingers.
“Feels good,” she sighed, and he immediately withdrew, knocking her right breast with an open palm. “Sir-” she corrected. “It feels good, sir.”
“Very good, Siha.” His hands returned, taking each of her nipples between his fingertips. “Shall we test the range of your sensitivity?”
“Y-yes,” He applied firmer pressure. Her eyes slid closed and she groaned. “Just like that.”
This time, he made a show of gripping her jaw firmly in one hand as he tugged on her breast with the other. Whatever lack of focus she had before was banished in an instant. His reaction was even more arousing than his touch - the way he did not hesitate to remind her of the rules of their game.
“I will not warn you again,” he said.
“-sir,” she gasped, pushing her chest eagerly into his hands.
He made a low sound, slowly twisting his fingers. The feeling was electric, bordering just on the edge of pain. If this was how the entire night was going to be, she was sure she wouldn’t survive. He continued to touch her, alternating between massaging and tweaking her breasts as she writhed in her restraints, kindling the needful heat growing inside her.
One hand fell between them, wedging between her tightly pressed thighs. His voice made her ache when he pulled himself close and said "Open your legs, Siha."
She complied immediately, widening her stance. His fingertips traced her seam through her panties, forcing the fabric between her lips and rubbing a slow, firm line up and down her cunt. She felt rather than heard his low purr of approval. “Already soaking wet?"
"Yes sir," she breathed.
Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his head and touched his lips to the center of her chest, roaming hands pushing up on her breasts to bring them nearer to his face, nearer to his mouth.
Plush lips pushed against the sensitive tip of one breast and then moved to the other. He had been handling her for scarcely two minutes and already had proved himself more adept than any lover she'd ever known. She tensed, every pleasure center on her body yearning for the promise of his hot mouth.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
Her eyes lowered to his; enormous, dark, and somehow possessing a manner of depth she had never seen in any species before. Light from the windows illuminated the irises beneath his dark sclera, the same color as the fine scales adorning his cheeks. It felt like he could see past every lie she told herself, every fabrication she’d ever hidden behind. Good christ, if he already had her halfway to ruined, what the hell was he going to do to her for the rest of the night?
His mouth ghosted across her skin as he said, “Tell me what you want, Siha.”
She had to blink to regain herself. His mouth was right there, but rather than be direct, she attempted to appeal to his position. “Your mouth, sir," she said, before adding meekly, "...if it would please you, sir.”
The sound he made was all the reward she needed; a deep, satisfied thrum of arousal that made his crimson cheeks flutter.
His mouth finally closed around the tip of her breast, tongue stroking long and firm across the sensitive peak. She couldn’t help the low moan that left her, every pass of his tongue like fire licking her spine. She squirmed, and he moved to her other breast, tonguing her nipple as he rolled the first between his fingers. The feeling was white-hot torment between her parted thighs, pressure screaming to be relieved. She wondered if she could climax off this alone, stumbling with the effort to maintain her balance as he tore her apart with devastating effect.
“Fuck-” Her thighs came together, desperate for relief as she begged “Please-”
A second later, his touch vanished, and her heart dropped. She let out a strangled whine of frustration and stumbled as she reached for him only to be reminded that her hands were immobile.
“Disobedient,” Thane deadpanned, straightening himself to face her. “And to think how close you were.”
“Please, sir-”
“Hush, Siha. Allow me to help you remember yourself.” He soothed a thumb across her cheek before stepping away out of her line of sight, leaving her to wonder what he had in store.
His footsteps were nearly silent as he moved through the room behind her. She heard a drawer open, followed by the sound of softly clinking metal. Moments later, she felt his touch on her hands, trailing a line up her bound arms and between her shoulder blades. Something that felt like leather brushed the nape of her neck and she tensed, adrenaline igniting her blood as she prepared herself for what she imagined was a whip or a crop or-
“I have a request,” he said. “Something I would like you to wear for me.”
It didn't matter that she didn't know what it was. She agreed without hesitation.
“This is a collar,” he said as the cool leather encircled her neck. “May I?”
Shepard breathed a relieved “Yes sir.”
His voice was kind when he said, “Thank you." The material settled against her skin, not as tight as she expected. A gentle tension passed quickly as he secured the buckle. Although she could not see it, she could feel the cold press of some kind of metal against the front of her throat.
He departed again for only a moment, and returned to face her. He placed something soft on the ground between them. When he spoke, his voice was low and tenebrous.
“On your knees, Siha"
She sank slowly, trembling with the effort to maintain her balance. Hell or high water, she was determined not to disappoint him again. Her knees sank into the cushion he so kindly provided, and after some effort, he brought a gentle hand to her jaw.
"Good girl," he murmured, stroking her cheek.
Shepard wasn't prepared for the heat that rose to her face - and between her legs - at his words. They filled her with a kind of pride and lust that she hardly recognized, flooding her with yearning.
"Are you familiar with meditation?" He said as he began to undo his belt with all the nonchalance in the world.
Her breathing quickened. Words felt flimsy in her mouth. "I've never tried it, sir."
"The practice is meant to achieve clarity of mind," he continued. "You may begin by focusing on your breathing.”
His fly dropped and his cock came free, a stiff and gleaming shock of fuschia against his pale green belly.
Yes, a deep breath was what she needed right now. His size was intimidating. Thane seemed to give her a moment to admire him, aware from their conversations that she had never slept with a drell before. Were they all so colorful and endowed?
"Feel your breath," he said softly. He drew close, a hand beneath her chin pulling her gaze up the length of his body. “Center yourself on the here and now. There is nothing but you and I.”
Inhale.
He touched her hair. She could feel the heat radiating from his thick, ridged length as he held her gaze.
"I will give you everything, Siha. Do you trust me?”
Exhale.
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
There was a warm hand on the back of her skull.
"Breathe deep. Open your mouth. Taste."
Compliance poured from her without question, lips parting at his command. He laid the tip against her tongue as she looked up at him through errant strands of hair, waiting and ready for him to slide himself into her throat.
"Be reminded that you may hallucinate."
In that moment it was clear why he had insisted she dose herself beforehand. One way or another, he was already on her tongue, the faint citric flavor of him already calling her attention. She pushed her tongue against his tapered head, gauging his reaction. She wanted to see him as lost as he had made her, wanted to hear whatever deep, delicious sounds his rich baritone voice might produce. Unable to speak, she settled simply for a small nod of acknowledgment. His smile could have melted her.
Slowly, he pushed himself into her throat.
He was overwhelming in the most exquisite way. Bound and on her knees, she couldn't do much but take the intrusion as he seated himself so deep in her throat that her eyes nearly watered. The sound he made was soft and low, sinking through the cracks in her mind like water in the desert. He pulled his hips back, combed through her hair with elegant green fingers before grasping a fistful near the back of her skull, pulling her back into him. She let out a low groan of satisfaction as they both worked her mouth on and off of his sizable length. She had no idea where he would be most sensitive, but he seemed to take no issue with the way she swiped her tongue hard over the underside of his shaft and hollowed her cheeks.
The hallucinations began quiet and slow. Her skin warmed, her mouth tingled, and when she opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) his scales glimmered like soft, iridescent stars.
High above her, Thane's mouth hung just slightly open, his eyes hazy, free hand hanging limply by his side as he used her mouth. She found a pronounced cluster of ridges near the root of him and drove her tongue against it, rewarded at last with a guttural sigh and softening brow.
"Your throat is a paradise, Siha," he panted, quickening his pace ever so slightly. "So good, so tight.”
The heat inside her was tethered to his words, a fire that burned hotter every time he praised her. She moaned around his length, pushing against him with her tongue, sucking him with abandon. He fucked her mouth until her jaw ached, the panties still wedged in her cunt burning against her clit. She wanted his climax like she wanted her own. Wanted to know if he would taste like the sun and zest he radiated before she drowned in the ocean of her own unsatiated lust, desperate for whatever he deemed her worthy of.
She heard his breath catch in his throat, and that was all the warning he got before he shoved her head onto his cock. He pushed so deep that saliva hissed out the corners of her lips before he stopped, trembled, and came on a whisper-quiet breath. Liquid heat flooded her mouth, pulsing, thick and hot, coating her throat and warming her all the way down with a glittering sensation she couldn't hope to describe. His hand fell away from her hair but she was loathe to release him, sputtering as she hummed around his length. She drank him back until he pulled away and his cock fell heavily from her mouth.
That sweet, sweet high settled over her. Oblivious to the thin tendril of saliva and cum that dangled from her wet lips, she rested her cheek against his thigh as he closed his pants over his retracting length. And then he was kneeling beside her, holding her as she caught her breath, murmuring soft praises as he used his thumb to trace her lower lip and push what remained of his spend back onto her tongue. The flavor spread into the hollows of her cheeks like rich, warm oil as she worked her jaw closed.
A hand brushed her hair from her eyes. His forehead pressed against hers.
"Lovely," he breathed, voice like silk against her cheek. "You are a gift, Siha.”
Shepard couldn't help but smile dumbly at him, thighs tensing in anticipation. She felt warm all over, dizzy and swaying with need as he helped her to her feet.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, holding her steady.
“A… a little high, sir.”
She watched one of his brow ridges rise as his lips quirked in amusement. The more she looked at him, the more beautiful he seemed to become.
"A good high, I hope?"
“Sir, it feels perfect.”
His eyes seemed lit from within as he smiled.
She allowed herself to be led over to the sofa, where he seated himself and reached for her hips and turned her away from him. Steady hands closed over hers, fingertips slipping beneath her bindings, loosening the knot and securing it again such that it released some, but not all of the tension in her shoulders. There was a brief pause, and then without preamble, he hooked his fingers into her panties and slid them down her legs.
Shepard tried not to squirm. She loved where this was going.
“Please sit, Siha,” he said, patting his thigh.
No sooner had she lowered herself toward him, his arms came up to circle her waist and pull her into his chest. They were skin to scale now, his shirt apparently having been opened at some point prior. Her eyes slid closed, the warmth of his smooth scales at her back giving her a feeling of security as he adjusted her position until her thighs fell open on either side of his.
"You have a new rule," he whispered against her ear. Shepard bit her lip in anticipation. "You must ask for permission to come. Will you do that for me?"
Shepard nodded, too high to remember herself, and jumped when he tapped her clit with three fingers.
"Use your words.”
Her head fell back against his shoulder. "Yes, sir."
For god’s sake, he didn't hesitate. She nearly sobbed as he soaked his fingertips in her wetness, tensing in his arms. It felt like heaven - like she could come right then and there - but she steeled herself. One finger gathered her slick arousal and began to circle her aching clit, teasing with a featherlight touch. She groaned as his other hand palmed her breast. The soft pressure was hypnotic, paired with the glittering sensation of his scaled fingertips between her legs. His breath against her cheek was a radiant, rippling mirage on the horizon of her lust.
Slowly - so, so slowly, he pressed his finger against her wet opening and dragged it upwards, over her pearl. The jump in sensation made her gasp, but he did not reprimand her. If anything he only pulled her tighter against him, repeating the motion once, twice, and again, until she was writhing in his arms, biting her lip to stem the tide of her oncoming climax. That single, relentless motion tore her mind down minute by minute until her entire cunt burned bright with the desperate need for release.
"Please," she gasped. "Please sir, may I come?"
He twisted a nipple in reply, his other hand slipping a finger into her opening.
"So soon, Siha?”
She whined, not sure how much she could take, but desperate now not to disappoint him. "It feels so good, sir."
"I'm glad my touch pleases you so," he murmured, pulling his finger from her depths and letting the connecting thread of sickness draw taut and snap in a cool, bright lash against her sensitive skin. "A fitting reason to continue, I think."
"I’m so close, sir-"
"I don't think you're nearly close enough.” He entered her again with his joined fingers. "I know you can take it, Siha. Let me hear all the beautiful sounds you make for me."
He used his thumb to tease her clit as he curled his fingers inside her and sent a blinding flash of pleasure rocketing up her spine. She grit her teeth.
"D- does it please you to deny me, sir?"
"Oh, Siha, I am deeply satisfied by the way you writhe in my arms."
She whined, trying to pinch her thighs shut to stem the tide of sensation, but it was impossible. He held her too tightly, scaled thumb rasping with delicious, sanguine friction against her slick center. She moaned when she realized he was hard again, his cock pressing into her backside. The thought that she was separated from him by nothing but a godforsaken pair of pants made her feel stupid with need, desperate to know how he would feel buried deep inside her. Her spine bowed, hips bucking against his hand as she released a strangled, pathetic cry of frustration.
"I know, my angel," he crooned, lust coloring his voice. "You can take it. Just a little longer."
He was moving with her now, grinding himself up into her ass as he speared his fingers in and out of her open cunt. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch the way he touched her without the risk of falling over the edge.
"Twenty seconds," he said. Shepard heaved a breath and grit her teeth, counting down in her head. Twenty seconds could pass in seconds on the battlefield. Beneath his hands, it was a nearly unbearable amount of time.
"Ten seconds."
The world was nothing but heat and sensation, her cunt burning like a drive core after a firefight, suffused with the incredible pressure of oncoming release. Thane latched his fingers around her nipple and she sobbed out with need, her spine bowing away from his back, arms and shoulders rigid with effort.
"Five."
The sound that built in her chest was a guttural, frustrated whine born of raw effort. It hissed out through clenched teeth. His fingers hilted in her channel and she swore she could feel every scale that passed through her opening. Just a few seconds-
"Two."
All the control in the world couldn't stop her. She felt the first straining pulse of release and knew she was doomed. Her climax reached up through her belly like a beast, squeezing along her spine and enveloping every nerve in her body in a screaming flood of ecstasy. She shuddered, unable even to hear her own voice as she tumbled through the wave he'd built upon her, chest heaving, straining against her bonds. Finally, all that remained of her breath was a choked-out moan.
She was spent. Somewhere far off in the back of her mind, she was aware she had broken the rules, but his disappointment seemed like a distant, irrelevant thing. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, velvet-soft cheek pressed to hers.
"Breathe with me," he said against her skin. "Breathe."
She could feel how wet she still was; his fingers were the only thing stemming the flow of her own arousal, buried and unmoving inside her. Her shoulders ached, but her body burned, the fog and fatigue of climax at war with the raging desire to be filled, ravaged, and claimed by the part of him pressing hard and hot against her ass. Thane, unconcerned with his own state of need, was still as stone as he continued to chant softly against her, "Breathe, breathe."
She couldn't say how long it took to gain control, but with his body warm at her back, she slowly drifted back to reality until they breathed as one. When she opened her eyes, color bloomed around the golden lights hanging above. It struck her that this man was still a total stranger to her, but here she was, perhaps the most vulnerable she had ever been since she'd woken up on that Cerberus recovery table.
When he finally moved, the shift of his scales against her was electric.
"Can you stand, Siha?"
The words felt like wind in her hair; a soothing brilliance, far too fast to catch. He shifted her into a more upright position until her feet touched the floor.
"...what?" She asked dreamily. Were his floors heated?
Plush lips touched the side of her neck, breath warm on her skin as he asked again with infinite patience, "Can you stand on your own?"
Standing. Right. She wasn't sure she could. How did he know she wasn't sure? All the multitudes of times she'd been knocked on her ass in basic, in N school- no one had ever asked her if she could stand on her own. They'd scarcely asked her if she'd been hurt.
His hands held fast to her hips. With a shaky breath, she blinked her eyes against the hazy afterglow and straightened her back, stretching into a more comfortable stance. She felt her weight settle on her feet.
"I… I think so, sir."
He gave her hips a reassuring squeeze, and something in her heart leapt.
"Very good."
They walked slowly to the other side of the room. He led her to the edge of the bed and encouraged her to sit.
"You came two seconds too early, my angel," Thane said as he began to work the ropes around her wrists and forearms.
Her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, sir."
Thane only hummed in consideration as he worked.
"You were magnificent at your peak, Siha. I will forgive this misstep." Her shoulders sagged in relief, his words like a balm on her heart. "However, it would behoove you to remember who you serve."
"Yes, sir."
Her elbows suddenly came free, releasing the tension in her shoulders with a rush. Her hands tingled as blood returned to them. Thane adjusted the remaining cords around her chest but otherwise left them in place. As she sat, he moved in front of her and placed a bottle of water in her hands, from which she drank gratefully. He then began to rub her unbound limbs, drawing a breathy sigh from her. His hands - Jesus, his hands were a damn miracle. She hadn't even noticed how much her shoulders had ached, flexing them beneath his soothing touch.
When he arrived at her wrists, he squeezed gently before reaching beside her and producing a pair of smooth leather cuffs linked by a small clasp.
Her eyes wandered as he worked, following the lines of his fingers toward wide palms, the elegant taper of his wrist, and upward along his strong arms. His shirt was now fully open, and she could see the wide, verdant stripes that flowed over his shoulders, leading her eye to all the other interesting features of his body.
The question rose from her before she could stop it, her fingers reaching before the words had left her mouth.
"May I touch you, sir?"
He looked at her then, and she steeled herself for a reprimand, but there was only kindness in his eyes. He raised her cuffed hands and placed her palms on his chest.
Shepard couldn't help her dumb smile, flattening her hands against smooth, warm scales. There was a surprising softness to them, no resistance as she swiped a thumb over one of the errant dark scales that dusted his body, not unlike her own freckles.
"Is my body pleasing to you, Siha?"
"Yes," she answered breathily, adding the obligatory "-sir," before he could acknowledge its absence.
She traced one of the curious lines of crimson that ran beneath each of his pectorals, rewarded with a soft sound that she not only heard but felt beneath her hands. He’s sensitive here, she realized, repeating the motion with a firmer touch. His reaction, though reserved, was not lost on her. She wanted more of him, wandering downward to trace the diamond-shaped patterns decorating his pale green abdomen, and further still to more crimson frills peeking out from the top of his pants. He didn’t have nipples as a human would, but he did have a belly button, which amused her. And awkward though it was with her hands bound, he seemed pleased at her interest.
Rather than removing her hands, he simply rose and moved away when he'd had enough. He gave her a small, soft smile as he said, "Wait here, Siha."
She blinked as he paced away and disappeared behind a closet door. The euphoria of his venom left her in a relaxed, contented state, overtaken by the memory of the spectacular climax he had given her. She was certain no one had ever brought her off with just their hands before. And though her release had been powerful, it had done little to stifle the need gnawing at the edges of her mind. Her blood stirred with the thought of what he might do next.
Finally, he returned, kissing the crown of her head. He placed a nondescript box by her feet.
"Please stand, Siha,” he said. “Spread your legs, and bend over."
She did as he asked, eagerly bracing her palms on the edge of the bed as she bent over and presented herself to him. Venom swimming in her veins, she wondered how much of her mind was still her own. If there was anything left, it has long since taken up residence in her pelvis.
Thane laid a palm at the base of her spine. Something slick prodded at her weeping cunt, and then she gasped as his fingers slid inside her. He gave two or three slow thrusts before withdrawing and dragging her abundant arousal to the tight bud of her asshole. She moaned in surprise as he pressed against her with one finger, rubbing in firm circles. They had agreed on no anal sex, but play was not off the table.
"When was the last time someone touched you like this?"
"I.. it was a long time ago, sir." She peeked back over her shoulder to find him watching her, rubbing her lower back with his free hand.
“We will go slowly. Remember your safewords.”
In this state, it was so easy to trust him. He slowly pushed a slick finger past her tight hole, feeling the stretch and burn as he entered her.
He reached for something with his free hand, and what it was, she couldn't quite see. As he worked her ass, he introduced the rigid shape of it to the seam of her cunt and eased it inside. It was wide but not long, a rounded plump thing that he let slip out into his palm before pushing it back in, over and over again.
A plug, she realized. He was going to plug her. The idea that he planned to fill both of her holes made her head spin.
His finger slipped out of her ass, and more slickness followed. She felt his fused fingers at her rim and grunted as they breached her. In moments he was building a rhythm, matching the pace of each hand as he began to fuck both of her holes. The feeling was incredible, whatever slight burn she may have felt quickly dissolving into warmth as he worked her. She closed her eyes and let herself fall against the jasmine-scented sheets, pushing her hips back into his hands.
"How does that feel?"
"It’s good, sir,” she breathed.
And then the plug was at her entrance, pushing slowly, opening her with a delicious burning stretch that took her breath away. Deeper it went, stretching and pushing until the bulk of it popped inside her and the flared base settled with a soft tap against her hole. Thane gave it a few taps for good measure, and she couldn't help but moan into the bedspread.
He stepped away for a moment, and she adjusted her stance, flexing and working her hips against the air with unshielded need. The plug’s modest volume put pressure against the inner walls of her cunt, and that hint of stimulation was driving her crazy.
She searched for him over her shoulder until he finally returned, toweling off his freshly washed hands.
"Now then, I seem to recall a discussion about pushing your boundaries.”
Thane squeezed her ass with both hands. Her need flared at the suggestion alone.
“I think a few spanks would do well to remind you who you serve.” He teased her wet slit with his fingertips and gave her ass a light and playful slap, rumbling with desire when let out a quiet gasp. “Are you ready for that, Siha?"
Her cheeks burned and her thighs tensed as she said, "Yes sir, I'm ready."
She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded, "Very well. You will tell me if you become distressed." He caressed the curve of her backside with a warm palm. "Count to ten," he said. And that was all the warning she got before the first spank landed.
It wasn’t forceful, but it jolted her anyway. His palm bounced on the left side of her ass in an upward motion. The sting was near imperceptible, but the intent was clear. She gasped involuntarily.
A few short seconds passed as he rasped her clit with near-threatening softness. And then the second hit landed on her opposite cheek.
"I said, count, Siha."
"T- two, sir."
His hand impacted her left cheek again, and she gasped out, "Three, sir."
"You may drop my honorific for the moment."
She nodded against the sheets, her eyes squeezed shut somewhere between arousal and a vague feeling that touched the edges of embarrassment.
Another spank on her right side. Now that she was warmed up, she welcomed the calidity blooming across her backside, slithering into all the little nerve endings that lined her empty, needy cunt.
"Four."
He continued on, and she counted three seconds between each blow. By the time he hit six, she understood why his strikes were soft. The heat built over her skin in layers, each strike seeming to add to the next until she cried out against the indescribable waves of sensation rocketing through her.
"Seven," she gasped through gritted teeth.
By eight, her ass felt hot in the wake of each blow. Her body was propelled forward in anticipation each time his hand came down, and she relished the electric feeling of her breasts dragging against the bedspread. By nine, she already knew she would miss this when it was over.
The last hit fell against her right cheek. She gasped “Ten,” and he relented.
Shepard sagged against the bed, flinching as he smoothed both palms over her sensitive backside, pushing the lingering burn into her flesh. The feeling sang through her veins.
"I love the way your skin blushes beneath my touch," he murmured, nudging a knuckle against the plug buried in her ass. His fingers then slid - blessedly - back into her cunt, curling right against the part of her that made stars bloom behind her closed eyes.
"Open your hands, Siha," he ordered.
She didn't know what for, but she complied, extending her bound hands across the sheets beneath her until her weight settled on her shoulders. A long, smooth implement was pushed into her palm and she closed her fingers around it as he adjusted its position such that the firm end of it settled against her clit. She leveraged it immediately, snuggling her cunt up to whatever blessed source of friction he had just endowed her with.
"Remember the rules, Siha,” he purred. “You wouldn't disappoint me a second time, would you?"
Cheek pressed against the bed, she nodded. "I promise, sir."
The device hummed to life, a powerful vibration that made her shiver. Shepard let out a low moan.
"Good girl. Count to ten."
And then he pulled back and spanked her again.
The blow was no more powerful than before. She felt her ass jiggle on impact, too distracted and overwhelmed to care.
"One." She groaned, voice muffled by the sheets. He brought a hand to her hair, forcibly turning her head to the side so as to hear her clearly. The second strike came, and the impact rushed in a wave across her entire body. "Two."
Pleasure and pain melded together like hot wax. Shepard panted, cheek smushed against the bed as he paused again and smoothed a hand over her reddened flesh. Pressure gathered between her spread thighs, her empty cunt clenching in desperation. She wanted more, bucking against his hand.
Her voice was hoarse when she said, "Please don’t stop."
He obliged, another three strikes raining down on her like the kiss of god.
"Can I come, sir?"
He pushed two fingers into her cunt and wedged his thumb hard against her plug as though to contemplate her request. With her hands at the wheel of her own pleasure, her building climax was much easier to control. Even still, his seeking fingers drove her crazy, so desperate to be fucked she could scarcely think of anything else.
"At ten, you may come for me."
"Thank you sir," she sobbed. He spanked her again.
Six. The feeling was a golden flash of light behind her eyes.
Seven. His fingers skimmed the soaking furrow of her cunt. Shepard let out a whine as he withdrew, grinding against the powerful motor between her thighs.
Eight. Her climax threatened to overwhelm her. She managed to lift her hips away from the vibrator seconds before it was too late, crying out against the raging push and pull of sensations overwhelming her.
Nine. She writhed against the bed, knees wobbling. Thane wrapped an arm around her belly and held strong as he kissed her spine, sending a chill throughout her entire body as she waited on the vicious precipice of the final blow and the sweet release it promised.
Ten.
She couldn't tell if it was harder than the rest. She came the second his hand landed, climax overpowering her so fast it forced the breath from her lungs. Light burst behind her eyes, white hot waves washing over every part of her as Thane stuffed his fingers into her pulsing cunt and fucked her through each rippling convulsion until she collapsed, panting and spent. The wand hit the ground with a loud thump. And then he was releasing her wrists, gently maneuvering her into a more comfortable position on the bed.
She let out a feeble groan as he began to soothe her skin with cooling medi-gel. Worked up as she was, the texture of his fingertips was overwhelming in the most exquisite way; the only reality she could comprehend were his hands on her, the soft sheets beneath her, and the raging void inside her begging to be filled.
“Tell me your heart’s desire, my angel,” he said, drawing his hand up the inside of her thigh. “What would you ask of me?”
Her head was swimming. Shepard clenched her teeth and made an incoherent sound "I want you to fuck me, sir.”
Thane coaxed her onto her back and she watched as though through a fog as he tugged on his belt. His scales gleamed in the low light of Illium’s setting sun.
“Tell me again." he rasped.
His pants hit the floor and he began to stroke himself with hunger in his eyes that foretold the hurricane he was about to unleash, full lips parted with a breathy sigh as he squeezed, smoothing his natural fluid from root to tip. Shepard drank him in - every sound, every flutter of his eyelids, feeling for one second that she had regained some intangible thing from all of this, the trust and vulnerability that he gave and cultivated without reservation. She swore she’d never wanted anyone so badly in her life.
“Please," she begged. Her own voice was thick in her mouth as she opened her thighs and spread her cunt with desperate need, open and empty and soaked with desire. "Ruin me, Thane.”
The sound he made rumbled like thunder on the horizon, and then his hands were on her, dragging her bodily to the edge of the bed and spreading her wide. Her ass chafed against the sheets, breath caught in her lungs as he laid his tip against her oversensitive clit and flames erupted under her skin. Where this was going, she was certain she wouldn't survive.
"Who do you serve?"
"You, sir." She felt him at her entrance, and all thoughts fled her mind. "I serve you."
Time was immaterial. There was nothing but the stretch, the push, and the heat of him as he split her open with his gorgeous meaty prick. Her plugged ass pulsed as he filled her. Chills rushed over her in waves and she sobbed out her pleasure, gripping the sheets beneath her.
"That's it, Siha," he crooned, stroking both thumbs up the sides of her wide open cunt. "Take all of me."
Thane gripped tight to the meat of her thighs, pulling their hips flush. She was so full, fucking full that she scarcely had the space for thought.
And then he fisted one hand in the ropes at her chest and moved.
His strength took her breath away. Unable to do more than take what he gave, she gasped out sounds she didn’t recognize as her own as he began to fuck her in earnest. His grip was sure to bruise but she didn't care. Her pulse pounded in time with each echoing slap of his hips against hers, rapidly overwriting reality with unending shocks of pleasure as he filled her again and again. Absolutely no one had ever fucked her like he did.
And when he brought that vibrating wand to her clit, he didn't even wait for her to ask.
"Come for me, Siha."
Shepard came like she was purpose-built to climax at his command. She shuddered violently beneath the unrelenting motor, voice breaking around the cry of ecstasy that forced itself from her throat. The sheets came apart beneath her gripping fingers as her limbs locked up against the assault on her senses.
"Again," he ordered, shoving her straight into overstimulation.
Thane held her thighs wide open as she thrashed, his strength too much for her to beat back without stopping him entirely. Her orgasm crawled from beneath her skin like a demon, clawing at her the whole way out.
"Once more, Siha,” he panted.
She couldn't- It was too much- She opened her mouth to tell him off but he bent over her, trapping the vibrator between them as he rasped into her ear, “For me, Shepard. I want you to come for me."
The sound that left her wasn't human any longer. Her back arched off the bed as though pulled by a force beyond her comprehension. She finally came one last time, the force of her orgasm sending her to heaven and hell and back again. With whatever remaining shred of rationality she possessed, she ripped the wand from his hands and flung it away.
And then there was only him. His hands on her body, his cock packed inside her, his hips hammering her soul from her body. He fucked her so hard, so completely, with such devastating demand that she was sure she would never be fit for duty again. Whatever world she had served before didn't hold a candle to the cataclysmic pleasure he gave her. Her eyes rolled back, and she could see the infinity between stars.
Shepard groaned as he pushed deep, caging her between his arms and gripping her by the hair as he pulled her head back, his lips frantic and clumsy on her neck, her jaw, and finally, her mouth. She tasted the citric burn of his venom as his tongue pushed against hers, desirous and needy, swallowing the sounds of her desire. Her arms wrapped around him, tears stinging her eyes as he hollowed her out with more passion than she had ever known. The heat coming off him could incinerate her for all she cared. She never wanted to let him go.
Adrift on his venom and pinned beneath him, she could only hold on as he drove himself against her. She let her hands wander, pulling at his backside, sliding over his hips. Her thumbs slipped into the sensitive crimson furrows of his pelvic frills and he gasped, his pace stuttering, and spent himself with a low, ragged breath. His lips met hers in clumsy desperation as he flooded her, sparkling heat blooming in the deepest reaches of her channel. It spread through her with every uncoordinated thrust that followed, driven by the sanguine push and pull of him until everything between her legs felt coated in bright, cool warmth. The high was cosmic, ethereal, so unlike any reality she had ever known that she wept, half in pleasure, and half in regret that she could not hold on to this feeling forever. He kissed her tears away, holding her until they were both well and truly spent.
Eventually, Thane raised himself on shaky legs and withdrew. Minutes slipped by in exhausted, satiated silence after that. She sagged into the sheets as the ropes at her chest came undone, the collar at her neck fell away, and the rigid plug inside her was gently removed. There was a hand beneath her head, water at her lips. Something cool and soothing cleared the mess of fluids from between her legs. Then the sensation of being lifted as he climbed on the bed and arranged her into his lap, draping her against his chest.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She was dreaming.
A warm embrace around her on a sunlit afternoon beneath the dreamy palm trees of a far-off island. Cool wind on her skin, an ocean in her ears. Someone was speaking to her; a deep, sweet voice that made her cheeks swell in a quiet smile.
"Are you awake, Siha?"
Shepard made a small sound and weakly shook her head, nuzzling against something warm. For the first time, in too long, her thoughts were at peace.
"My apologies," the voice said.
Apologies for what? Everything was perfect. Then she was moving, the sound of the sea disappearing into the warmth of rustling fabric. Her back settled against something decadent and soft. A tender hand cupped her cheek.
She cracked her sleep-heavy eyes open to find herself in another realm, lit by the warm yellow tones of a nearby lamp and little else. The sky outside was dark and dotted with the twinkling, passing lights of Nos Astra’s traffic. Thane sat beside her, a small smile on his face. He kissed the top of her head.
"I regret that I must ask you to rise soon, Shepard."
Shepard curled into the lightly scented blankets that had been tucked in around her.
"What time is it?" She asked.
"Just past sunset."
She wound her arms around whatever parts of him she could reach and mumbled, "Five more minutes."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Thirty minutes later, she was gently roused from sleep.
“Would you prefer to dress yourself in private?” Thane asked.
Shepard placed her tired feet on the floor and stood before him, naked as the day she was born.
“I think we’re past that,” she said with a small chuckle.
He gave her a small smile and helped her into her pants as he said “I wanted to thank you.”
Shepard blinked. "I should be thanking you.”
"We may thank each other, then. I enjoyed our time together."
Shepard attempted to conceal her blush by pulling her shirt over her head. "I bet you say that to everyone."
Thane kissed her cheek. "Even if I did, how would you know?"
It was a damn tragedy that she couldn’t spend the entire night with him.
"If I survive this… thing… I'm involved in…" she began, a sudden timidness taking root in her like a damn teenager. "I'd love to get lunch sometime."
That got a genuine chuckle out of him, and he gave her a friendly hug. Her heart leapt for but a moment.
"Perhaps," he said with a beautiful smile. "We shall see what my wife thinks.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tali was stiff as a wire, straddling a chair on the engineering deck and gripping the backrest with both hands.
"You slept with who?"
"I don't know, his profile said 'the artist formerly known as Ocean's Prayer' or something."
Tali’s luminous eyes were wide behind her mask, shoulders tensed with some kind of anticipatory excitement.
"The Ocean's Prayer? From Fornax?"
Running a hand through her hair, Shepard smiled sheepishly. "We weren't allowed to have Fornax on Arcturus, Tali."
"This isn’t Arcturus! You have your own damn ship!" She exclaimed.
"I'm sure you've noticed, but I've been a little busy-"
"Keelah, Shepard. You humans make problems out of nothing." Tali's Omni-tool glowed to life. "Let me just… there. Look."
A holo sprang up before her - a magazine cover - on which a green drell posed, the image conspicuously cropped at his waist. Tali pointed, as though the image didn’t already have Shepard’s full attention.
"This guy?"
Shepard nodded, chewing on her lip. "That's him, yeah."
"Do you have any idea how famous this guy is? Look, look-" Tali began to page through the magazine.
Just because Shepard never had Fornax didn't mean she'd never looked at porn before. There definitely should've been a paywall some pages back. She narrowed her eyes and gave Tali a mischievous look.
"Is that your personal copy?"
"You-! Shut your mouth, you have no room to talk after what you just told me," Tali shot back.
"Give me that, I want to see."
Her omni-tool pinged and Shepard flipped open the holomag.
Ocean's Prayer: the Fornax exclusive you've been waiting for - interview with the Master of Inscrutable Depths himself.
"Shepard, that man could make even the most straight-laced turian beg for mercy."
"Damn," Shepard muttered under her breath, paging through walls of text she was too dazzled to read, sprinkled with teasing photos that made her hot under the collar. Just on the memory of his touch, his voice, his massive-
Oh.
The next page opened to a full page photo. Shepard coughed on her drink.
Sere Krios is rendered by the incredible @messydiabolical. Check out AO3 for the uncensored feature :)))
#zet writes things#shrios#thane krios#this fic literally bent me in half#thank you so much messy#shepard#fanfiction#mass effect fanfiction
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Fic writers' end-of-year roundup: 2022 edition!
It’s that time of year, writer friends — time to take stock of what we’ve been up to this year! @pikapeppa tagged me, thank you!
And I'm tagging... everyone. @storybookhawke, @bexifer, @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul, @rpgwrites, @fandomn00blr, @asaara-writes, @dafan7711, @kemvee, @kunstpause, @blarrghe, @a-tear-in-the-veil, @in-arlathan, @elveny, @hawkeish, @starsandskies, @dismalzelenka, @charlatron, @enigmalea, @tessa1972, @wickedwitchofthewilds, @noire-pandora, @queen-kass-the-writer, @lavellanvibes, @vonuberwald, @evilsapphyre, @pinkfadespirit, @musetta3, @lesetoilesfous, @faux-fires, @midnightprelude, @ellie-effie, @andrastesknickerweasel, @mordinette, @kagetsukai, @zet-sway, @roguelioness, @potatowitch, @for-the-ninth, @anneapocalypse, @rakshadow, @contreparry, @realace, @chaosride, @emotionalmorphine, @anderstrevelyan, @thedastrash, @only-slightly-terrified
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Words written (published or not, WIPs included!): 188,336 words according to my trusty spreadsheet, in 45 fics on AO3 and a few secret things.
Smut scenes: How do I even count that? I wrote 11 explicit fics in 2022. Some had several scenes.
New things I tried: I tried writing more short things for DA Drunk Writing Circle on Friday nights. It went well, I think, but sometimes it feels like I'm wasting a big idea on a small thing and then I can't use it again, which is STUPID, I know, but it's still a thing going on in this old head.
Fic I spent the most time on: I have such a bad memory. I don't remember such things, time us just so... timey.
Looking at my trusty spreadsheet, I spent three months in the beginning of the year to finish Destiny's Bite and then Mystery of the Rose appeared. Currently, I'm spending the most time on Twilight and Soup. Like an unhealthy amount of time. You don't even know how much this fic occupies my brain space.
Fic I spent the least time on: I think I wrote the first chapter of Mystery of the Rose in one night.
Favourite thing I wrote: I think it's Outshine the Stars, but I love all my ongoing fics too.
Favourite thing I read: The Right Pressure by DemonicPersephone, the pining, the careful feelings developing...
Writing goals for next year: More words. Finish a few longifcs. Write the original novels. Just... use time more efficiently. Oh and if possible, maybe play a game again? But mostly, more writing.
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if it’s not a spoiler how do the ROs comfort a crying mc
depending on your mc this might come up but I'll write this anyway
Dominik: He immediately gathers you in his arms and lets you rest your head agains him while you cry. Dominik falls quiet as he rubs you back slowly, not knowing what to say that would make you feel better. He'll ask for the reason once you calm down, and if it's another person who caused this, he'll find a way to literally destroy their life *but no one will ever know that it was him.
Teht: They freeze at first, unsure of how to approach the situation. Sure, they've seen you cry when you were kids but this is... different. Teht approaches you slowly and clears their throat before asking what's wrong and if you want to talk about it. If you do tell them why you're crying, depending on what caused those tears, they'll either comfort you quietly, give you advice on how to fix it, or talk to help you break out of that state.
Zet: they're very surprised to see you cry, because you left such a strong impression on them the first time you met. But they understand that it's just how things are, people cry sometimes... they just wish you never had a reason to. It's not something they know how to do well, and they don't know if you'd want to be comforted by them of all people, but they'll try anyway. "MC..." they begin slowly their hand hovering over yours, not sure if you'd want this. "I...I'm here for you. I'm sorry...please don't cry."
Miata: "What got you crying this time?" She sighs, not because she's annoyed at you, but the idea of you being sad irritates her...or something. Miata will demand to know what happened to cause you to break down like this, and depending on the thing she might just go into 'I have a solution for your problem' mode. However if it's something she can't fix, she'll just stand there for a moment and sigh before asking if you need a hug.
Narkis: He has a bad tendency to think of the logical side of the things even in such situations, but when he sees you crying like that it feels like someone twisted a knife in his heart and he doesn't even understand why. "What the fuck are you crying about?" but it comes out in a soft voice. "Do you want a hug or something?? No really, do you want a hug–" If you jump in his arms he'll just stand there like 🧍♂️ before hugging you back slowly and securing you close to him. He'll lean his cheek on your head and sigh. Once you calm down he expects you to tell him why you were crying and if it's something that can get fixed, do so... together. I think that Narkis is the best at giving sound advice in any situation in general, even if he doesn't always follow it himself.
Prisca: She's heartbroken when she sees you like that. She'll run to your side and ask if there's anything she can do for you, while fighting back the urge to immediately gather you in her arms. "MC... do you need a hug?" Prisca will stay with you through the whole thing; if you want to be held, she will hold you. If you want her to rub her back, she will, and if you just want here to be there while you break, she'll do that too and pick up the pieces later. She'll gather your face in her hands and wipe your tears with gentle fingers before giving you a sad smile. "I'm sorry... I wish you never had to cry like this."
Herian: They're... conflicted. For a while, they'll just sit next to you and talk, trying to get you to engage with them so it'll be easier to break from the grasp of the emotions that are causing you such grief. They'll let you know that you can hold, hug them, or cry on them if you want but they won't pressure you. Herian is the most likley to place a kiss on too of your head while you're in their arms.
Shin: depending on the reason, they'll be so angry on your behalf that they'll end up crying with you, or they'll mold themself into the perfect support you need to get through this... or both. They'll demand to know who or what made you cry, but their priority is always your wellbeing. Depending on your relationship, if the two of are a thing, or if you'll allow them, Shin will kiss your tears away and hold you close.
Kalipso: the second they see you crying they come up to you and hold your face gently in their hands. The sight of tears in your eyes and the way your lip trembles makes them feel like something is clenching their heart in its claws. It's painful, twisting and their finger tremble as they try to wipe away your tears. "What happened?! Who did this to you?!" They'll day anything you ask them to, as long as it makes you feel better. Even days later, they'll keep checking up on you to make sure that you're doing well.
Deoki: they freeze, unsure of how one is supposed to act in such cases. "Do you... do you want me to kill someone?" Honestly, they're so worried that they're internally panicking, trying to think of a solution. They need a bit of guidance in this area. If you ask them to hold you they'll 100% will do so, and they won't let go until you want them to. For the next few days expect them to go out of their way to accommodate you, although if you point it out they'll straight up doing such thing.
#thank you ♡#ask#ch: deoki#ch: dominik#ch: narkis#ch: miata#ch: kalipso#ch: herian#ch: shin#ch: teht#ch: prisca#ch: zet
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tag 10 people you want to know better
tagged by @skittidyne AND @zet-sway I LOV BEING TAGGED IN THINGS
relationship status: married to the love of my life who is also a giant troll (affectionate)
favourite colour: B L U E. And purple. And green. And gold. And pink.
favourite food: ramen but like the fancy kind from restaurants
song stuck in your head: never be me by Miley Cyrus. It’s really angsty
last thing you googled: “how to use a cocktail juicer” (my husband was doing it wrong so I had to show him how to do it right)
time: 7:00pm
dream trip: iceland
last book you read: revenge of the Sith (novel). shut up I’m going through some stuff.
last book you enjoyed reading: the murderbot diaries. I aspire to write something like that.
last book you hated reading: dune. It’s also very hard for me to hate books so this was a LOOOONG time ago.
Bonus:
favourite thing to cook/bake: pasta from scratch with some chorizo sauce with my husband
Cake. I love to make cake. Idc what kind I just wanna make it.
favourite craft to do in your spare time: WRITING. Does video games count as a craft? Painting sometimes.
most niche dislike: stand up comedy
opinion on circus(es) now and in history: no thoughts but I did see Carnival of Souls a while ago and it’s been stuck in my head since then.
do you have a sense of direction and if not what is the worst way you ever got lost: yes HOWEVER I almost got lost out in the desert because my friend and I were hiking (when I lived in the desert) and we ran away from a rattlesnake out of terror and couldn’t find the trail again
tagging my loves: @angstyastro @spookyvalentine @commander-krios @bluerose5 @mattmxrdock @miniature-space-hamster @callista-curations @hanarinhightown @bonksoundeffect @yellingaboutmasseffect
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Fan Character Friday- little narrative writing
This is a little thing thats been in my brain for DAYS now (shortstory in notes, possibly badly written but someone has to write it down)
His hands softly grasps the rail around the pool. Bioluminescent flowers shown a shimmering a light blue over head, making him cast a shadow to the surface of the undersea. Cyrin traced the grown patters of the rail deep in contemplation while his eyes followed the trail of the fish that swam beneath his feet.
It was distressing at all of it. Just this day alone, having to get interrupted by multiple mind mages that Ivan had to drive off. The fact of the Dimir activity sky rocketing made him more uneasy, especially when Prime Speaker Vannifar asked for the guild to strengthen their defenses and keep secrets close. Something is gonna happen, and it didn't sit right with biomancer.
He looked around the room to see it mostly empty. Getting out a notebook and pen from his satchel, Cyrin cracked it open and whispered. "Ivan... do you know what has happened? Why is the Dimir acting up?" With a practiced hand, he pretended to jot down notes.
The reassuring grasp of his left shoulder sent an uncomfortable tingling wave down his spine, causing Cyrin to shift. He had always hated when Ivan caused that sensation as he subconciously look that way to see the usual empty space next to him. That gravelly but measured voice spoke afterwards.
"It concerns me too. But, talking to those colleagues gave me an inkling of what they're after: Planeswalkers."
"Iz-zet really that again?" His raised annoyed voice shook him a bit as he saw one of the other raising a brow at him. "Like I said previously, there being alternate universes than just Ravnica is particularly insane."
"Trust me, Cy, I still hold that belief strongly, but that operative had her own research on the new Orzhov Guildmaster." Ivan's voice echoed out as he dripped fed the biomancer one of the key aspects from a traded thought strand. A vivid memory of over hearing Teysa Karlov and this new comer, Kaya, within the halls of the basilica washing over his senses causing Cyrin to place his head in his hand and to block out the outer stimulus. Much like before, this use of telepathy caused a massive headache to pang out. The information that was made was a deep talk about an entity by the name of "Bolas" and the deal the two Orzhov made.
"So, essentially, the Dimir are looking for every evidence of this mystical Bolas guy?" He could feel a mental nod from the mind mage. "Great, absolutely great. Krokt."
Cyrin pinched his nose, growling a bit in frustation. How would they supposed to deter mind mages from his mind. Of course, he knew that Ivan did his part well, after all it was beneficial for the both of them if he prevents it. The innate naphil essence with his mindscape was always wanting to ensnare those unfortunate telepaths. He had never enjoyed this situation his yore ancestors placed their family, let alone the entire fact of the nephilim's existence. This mysterious Bolas and his machinations is only going to turn this situation into something truly horrific.
#this may be poorly written but PLEASE#I BEG OF YOU THIS SCENE HAS BEEN ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR AGES#I'm also VERY happy i get to use fun word stuff like being an actual TERMS#OH DID you know nephilim was old ravi for power#naphil or naphal is singular for the nephilim#They're not well designs both flavorfully and mechanic but DAMN IT IF IM NOT WILLING TO TRY#hi i think about the nephilim at times pleasure to meet u#simic combine#the nephilim#house dimir#short story#Cyrin Zacek#Ivan L. Mendegor#pre war of the spark#mtg ocs#my oc#Krokt too#fan character friday
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tag 10 people you want to know better
tagged forever ago by @thecygnetcommittee
relationship status: single mother to a needy cat and an even needier manuscript
favourite colour: orange
favourite food: tofu skin
song stuck in your head: not so much a song but myth & roid’s ethereal vocal work for what they did for made in abyss (so “endless embrace” and “forever lost”)
last thing you googled: “cat pooping outside litter box” listen the life of single motherhood is not glamorous
time: 6.40pm
dream trip: bolivia to see the salt flats, then cross over into chile and go to that one forest where the trees are all giant but the animals are all tiny and i get to see a pudu
last book you read: not counting fanfic, world war z, and it was great
last book you enjoyed reading: world war z! how about that
last book you hated reading: ego homini lupus, which thankfully was awhile ago (and also thankfully i don’t HATE media easily)
Bonus:
favourite thing to cook/bake: i don’t HATE cooking but neither do i LOVE it so. idk. i like making this one pasta dish with onion and broccoli; i’m very used to cooking it so i enjoy it i guess?
favourite craft to do in your spare time: write
most niche dislike: stickers
opinion on circus(es) now and in history: i liked the greatest showman and i suffered through a few circus jokes due to my non-skitty name as a kid and that’s the sum of my thoughts
do you have a sense of direction and if not what is the worst way you ever got lost: i have ZERO sense of direction. worst way i ever got lost was while very drunk in punta cana. i do not speak spanish. i was trying to ask for directions in french. it was through sheer dumb luck my coworkers found me ~2 hours later literally WANDERING.
Tagging @acrylicsalts-inspo @zet-sway @achamocha @entelechies @angstyastro @eight-thirtytwo @missysdiabolicalmusings @bluerose5 @chocolateal @curiouslylazy
#tagged meme#man i was tagged forever ago#but i am always grateful for getting tagged#i love to be acknowledged as existing
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