DaroXen

You aren't sure how much time has passed. In space there is no night or day, just time. You were here with a crack squad of the finest soldiers Cereberus could buy, here to retrieve a human girl from the clutches of aliens. It was a daring raid and victory was certain, but then the very child you were there to save unleashed terrible biotic attacks gainst you. Your sergeant cried out as she was hoisted into the air and slammed against a bulkhead, her cracking with an audible “crunch”.

 

You were next, lifted off your feet and then slammed into something hard. When you awoke some time later you were strapped to an operating table in a cold, cramped room. Masked figures were standing all around you.

 

Quarians.

 

They poked and prodded you and asked you questions upon questions, but you refused to answer them. You'd never give an alien the satisfaction of breaking you.

 

Several “interrogations” later and you are now someplace else. This time your hands are clasped behind your back and fastened to something in the floor, pinning you in place. The steel surface chillls your nude body. The lights are dim.

 

You hear a door open out of sight behind a partition and in strides a quarian, a woman. You usually have trouble telling the quarians apart bu this one you know well. Xen. She was there when you first woke up and she's been to a few of your interrogations, sometimes asking you questions about Cerberus.

 

“Get fucked,” is all you've ever relinquished to her.

 

“What am I ever going to do with you?” she asks, walking toward you. The quarian woman stops by your head and appears to stare down into your eyes. You can only just barely make our her gaze through her tinted visor. She nudges your head with the tip of her boot, the twin points of her toes digging into the underside of your jaw. “You've resisted sleep deprivation, pain, and offers of clemency... but I think there is one option left. Something even your demented 'Illusive Man',” the derision drips from her silk-like voice, “would not have considered.”

 

Her toes dig deeper into your flesh for a few moments and then she relents, smiling (though you are unaware of it). Even if she can't break you she's going to find a way to get something out of this. No matter what, she's going to leave satisfied.

 

She starts circling around you, something about her body language is almost “chipper”.

 

“Tell me, human,” she begins, stopping at your feet, “Do I repulse you?” Xen asks, one three-fingered hand gliding down the curve of her torso, starting at her breasts and tracing its way down to her thighs. You can clearly her the sound of the fabric of her skin-tight suit gliding against itself.

 

You clench your jaw and avert your gaze, staring instead at the bulkhead beside you. However you can't resist answering Xen's question. You have no choice. It is beyond your control. Desptie the coolness of the room you feel the beginnings of an erection.

 

If you'd been crazy about aliens you wouldn't have joined Cerberus in the first place. However some of them at least are almost... human, in some ways. Asari and quarians both come pretty close in some respects. You've never admitted it to yourself, never indulged, except that one time...

 

Maybe it's just the isolation. It feels like it's been months since you've seen another human. You let out a breath and crinkle your nose, trying to suppress forbidden thoughts. It does no good.

 

“So you DO like what you see,” Xen exclaims quite pleased. She crosses her arms, one finger tapping against the bottom of her helmet.  “Interesting.”

 

Her posture shifts abruptly to a casual stance, her hips slanting. When she speaks her tone is casual as well, almost friendly in a way. “I would consider just fucking the answers out of you, but,” her arms cross against her stomach, “That just isn't an option I'm afraid.”

 

Xen begins pacing again, but you refuse to look at her. Mostly. You dare to glance at her very briefly before shifting your eyes again. You hope she doesn't notice.

 

“You see,” she begins, “intercourse is dangerous for us. We can't undertake it lightly.” She stops and pokes your ribs with her boot, “I'm certainly not going to expose myself to a dirty, hateful,” another jab with her boot, “little human.” Stopping once more she stands with her feet on either side of your head. Xen leans forward, the stretching sound of her suit audible in the silence of the room. “Though I am tempted. I am so...” she nudges your cheek with her foot, forcing you to look up at her, “I am so very curious.”

 

You don't know what kind of game she's playing, but you keep telling yourself you want no part of it. You tell yourself it is just nervousness and maybe the cool air, but your body continues to betray you.

 

“We have ways of... adapting,” Xen continues, “There is so much more to sex than just intercourse. There is so much you can do in a suit.” She stops and you hear somethin smack against the floor. Turning your head towards the sound you see a three-fingered glove that formally belonged to Xen's environment suit laying just a few inches away. You immediately look up at Xen, your attention quickly drawn to her naked hand. Her fingers are delicate and pale. Her nails reach out just slightly passed the finger tips. She has her hand held out in front of her and appears to be flexing her digits.

 

You've never seen a suitless quarian before.

 

Xen can see you watching her, but she pretends not to notice. Her gloved hand extends out from her side and braces against the bulkhead so she can lean on it. Her leg opposite that hand and closest to you raises in the air, the knee bending her calf behind her. Xen's exposed fingers reach down and begin fiddling with something at the base of her knee. Suddenly there is a quiet “hiss” and the fabric and metal comes slightly lose.