Archive of Our Own

The best thing about Sara Ryder’s quarters on the Tempest is undoubtedly the view. Even though they feel overly large and luxury – Sara still can’t get over the fact that she has an elaborate audio system and mini-bar while the rest of the crew has bunk beds – nothing beats staring out into space whenever she wants to, the stars and planets guarding her while she falls asleep beneath them.

She loves standing at the helm of the Tempest between Suvi and Kallo, enjoying their playful banter while they bring her where she needs to be, analyzing all anomalies along the way. Kallo’s hand and flying is always steady, and Suvi’s insights have brought them many new and clever discoveries. But sometimes she needs solace, some time alone with whatever it is that seems to call to her out there. If only to forget about the kett and their hideous deeds, and to keep the marvel and wonder at the galaxy around her locked inside.

Because she came here for a reason, now an almost fully-fledged Pathfinder, and a couple of bone-headed space freaks who play with genetics aren’t going to scare her off. Especially not since she has so many good people on her side – an ancient angry Krogan with a huge gun who’s great at playing replacement dad; a competent biotic tactician with a mind for the quiet and introspective; an experienced crisis-responder who always knows how to make things feel blessedly normal; a tall turian who’s part-time smugger and part-time team mom, and an Asari with a clever mind for Remnant tech and a heart that beats with adventure.

And Jaal, of course. Resistance member, clever guerilla fighter, warm and emotional and always ready to share things about his culture. But Jaal has been on her mind far too often lately –

“This is not an uncommon occurrence,” SAM suddenly says, interrupting her train of thought. “Considering the nature of your relationship and the fact that you recently copulated on Aya, it is only natural that you would think of him more often than usual.”

Sara grimaces, levelling an angry glare at the small SAM module on her desk. Sometimes she wishes he had a body, or a face, or something – it doesn’t feel nearly as satisfying to be angry at someone inside her head.

“Really, ‘copulating’? You couldn’t think of anything else less clinical?” She sighs, sitting down at the desk. “You’re just as bad as Lexi.”

If he could shrug, SAM surely would. “Dr. T’Perro and I merely approach your relationship with Jaal with an outside observer’s precision. It is interesting to us because it is new and unprecedented.”

Absentmindedly, Sara scratches her fingers over the head of her Pyjak, perched on the railing nearby. The creature lets out a chirp, its human-like hands coming up to close around her left thumb. “You’re not exactly an outside observer, SAM. You feel everything I do.”

It’s silent for a few more moments before SAM speaks up. “I do. Experiencing sex firsthand was… overwhelming. But from what I grasp of the concept, it is meant to be.” A pause. “Does it bother you?”

Sara raises her eyebrows and frowns; the Pyjak has now crawled into her lap, making a weird noise somewhere between a cat’s purring and Vetra’s exciting laughter. It’s grown into a comforting sound already – anything associated with Vetra usually does – but the first time she heard it, it freaked her out. It still creeps out Gil whenever the Pyjak ventures into the hold.

“You mean,” she starts, “that you’re there when I have sex?”

“Yes,” SAM confirms instantly. “I removed myself to the background during the act, but as with all, I experienced it fully through your senses and emotions.”

She shakes her head, leaning back. “I don’t mind. You and I are already entwined beyond reason; more so than anyone even knows. I think…” She pauses for a moment. “The concept is weird, that there’s somebody else there when I’m having sex. But you’re there for everything anyway, and Jaal knows, so why take away something so arbitrary from your experiences through me?”

SAM’s module flickers, the blue sparkling brighter for a short time. “I could stop monitoring at certain times, if you wish.”

Sara frowns again, face scrunching up. “No, it’s fine. If it helps you grow…” Her face morphs into a grin then. “If you’re there for the shitty parts, you should also be there for the good parts, right?”

“… It was rather enjoyable, yes. It is a different thing to know how sensitive certain body parts are in terms of nerve-count than to actually experience that in truth,” SAM says, sounding like he’s confessing some terrible secret.

Sara laughs. “Oh well, you’re in for a treat, considering that Jaal and I are serious about this.”

SAM’s module flickers again, projecting what looks like a spreadsheet. “That will put Lieutenant Harper ahead of the bets again. For all his experience at poker, Mr. Brody’s predictions of your relationship have been less than stellar.”

She rolls her eyes, flapping her arm at the projection; the Pyjak squeaks in response. “Gods, stop it. It’s embarrassing enough already that everybody was on this thing from the very start.”

The spreadsheet disappears. “If it is any consolation, they are also betting on who of them is able to murder the largest number of kett, whether Dr. T’Perro will ever win a poker game against Mr. Brody, how many drinks of Tall Moose it takes for Mr. Kosta to pass out, and whether Dr. Anwar ever did get to see what was under Jien Garson’s dress,” SAM sums up.

Sara’s back to grinning again. “Drack,” she says, “no, three, and I hope so but I think not.”

“You would do well,” SAM says, sounding amused. “My calculations indicate that your answers have a very high probability of being correct. Though my data on Mr. Kosta’s alcohol sensitivity remains somewhat incomplete.”

“Forget the alcohol sensitivity,” she laughs, “I think you should worry more about the recipe of the Tall Moose.”

And that’s how their conversation continues – fun little snippets of their lives and those of the crew, a lovely moment of enjoying the simple things in life rather than focusing on fighting a large-scale war. Away from heavier things like trying to make planets viable again in a galaxy filled with the Scourge, kett, and other deadly constructs.

It revitalizes Sara, and she highly suspects SAM knows because hey, he knows almost everything – but that doesn’t change the meaning of what he’s trying to do, and how positively it affects her. She’s both happy and relieved that she has SAM, because she’s not sure how she would’ve gotten through every horrid little thing since waking up from of cryo if he hadn’t been there.

Friends, family, lovers – it’s all important, but what they have is just as strong. And she hopes that through her father’s brilliant mind and programming, SAM’s own thoughts and developments, and her as a conduit of worldly experiences, SAM could become something new and right. Never a repeat of the geth ever again.

When Sara leaves her quarters, it’s already quite late, but she feels fresh and energized. Maybe Vetra is still up and ready for a second round of a turian game quite close to chess (Sara keeps forgetting its name), or she can hang out with Liam and watch some old, classic vids. Cora is probably already asleep, which is a pity; otherwise, the lieutenant would probably up for a nice sparring session. Suvi and Gil are both early risers, so they’re most likely already beneath the covers as well, and Sara’s not feeling like getting interviewed by Peebee about what it’s like having sex with Jaal (she can just about hear the other woman exclaiming something about ‘massive thighs’).

No surprise, it’s indeed Liam she bumps into on her way to the bridge, and he immediately throws a happy smile her way. There’s just something about him that’s so warming – it reminds Sara of things like sunflowers, of a crackling flame in a fireplace, of your best friend’s arms slung around you while you walk, the two of you laughing. Out of all of us, she muses, Liam is surely the most human.

“Hey, Sara,” he laughs, “didn’t think I’d run into you at this hour. But if you have time, then there’s something critically important that still needs your attention.”

She raises her eyebrows, playfully crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh? And for what do you need the mighty Pathfinder today, Liam?”

“Well,” he chuckles, “I tested and watched a bit of that mythical version of Last of the Legion that you brought me. And boy, it’s good! Some parts are enhanced and the action scenes are amazing, so I was thinking…” He trails off, his hand-gesturing halting in mid-air.

Sara smiles. He talks with his hands as much as he does with his mouth. “Movie night, huh?” she asks. “Now that we finally have all the key ingredients together?”

Liam laughs and shakes his head. “Aren’t we a great little group? Turning something so simple into an endeavor of weird snacks and strange devices, not to mention the fancy drinks. But yeah, movie night.” He prods her left elbow. “If you’re up for it, we could try tomorrow night? It’s not like the kett will move on us anytime soon, huh?”

She shrugs, grinning. “Even if they did, nobody interrupts movie night.” She then lifts her hands, making finger-guns at him with a wink. “Let’s put it up on the message board for tomorrow. I’m sure some people will still need to prepare.”

Liam grins back at her. “Yeah, like Suvi. Is it bad if I’m kinda worried about those cakes?”

“Nah,” Sara says, shaking her head. “I think we’re all kinda worried about that. I feel like the only people I trust with cooking on the Tempest are Kallo and Drack, oddly enough. Vetra can get lots of stuff but not make it, Cora’s all about minimalism, I’m not even sure Peebee prepares food, and Suvi…”

He grimaces, leaning back. “Licks rocks.”

Sara can’t help it; she bursts out laughing. “Yeah well, I’m keeping my fingers crossed. It’s an angaran recipe, so we’ll be able to ask Jaal if it’s any close to the original and if it’s safe to eat.”

Liam points to the side of his head. “At least you got SAM to keep you safe.”

“I pre-scan everything that enters Sara’s mouth,” SAM supplies immediately, “though this has not deterred her from ingesting matters and/or substances that are alien, foreign, unknown, or decidedly bad for her health.”

In the silence that falls shortly after, Sara and Liam lock gazes, wincing almost at the same time. Liam parrots, in a rather disgusted tone, “Everything?”, while Sara mumbles, “Thanks, SAM.”

“Ah,” SAM answers after a pregnant pause, “my comment was taken as innuendo.”

“Please don’t add it to your humor algorithm,” Sara says quietly, a waver to her voice.

Liam raises his eyebrows. “He has one?”

That has them both laughing again, the slight discomfort disappeared entirely. They say their goodbyes next, Liam going back to the crew quarters for a good night’s sleep, and Sara up to the bridge just to take a brief peek over the galaxy. Kallo is still there, but he’s fairly well-attuned to her moods by now, so they say little and enjoy the view together in silence.

Space is always quiet, isn’t it? An expression of sight rather than sound, of cold rather than heat.

Sara eventually decides not to bother anyone, and the walk to her quarters is just as quiet, except for SAM asking her why schadenfreude is a common concept amongst people. Sara finds she can’t really explain, so they both fall silent, and Sara’s bed seems quite comfortable all of a sudden. She sleeps deeply, not remembering her dreams but for a few vague images – hazy little shadows of a better time when her family was still unbroken.

The next morning brings a happy sort of excitement to the Tempest that Sara hasn’t really felt since they took off together, back when they were still fresh and bright and ready to explore. Still ready to explore, but some of the brightness has worn off now that they’ve discovered that they’re dealing with an impending doom of kett and the Scourge in Andromeda.

But today, not so much. It seems everyone is doing something special for their impending movie night – from arranging seats and snacks to discussing film theory and Salarian space operas, and from baking goods to gathering and stacking cups from the galley. (Though Suvi and Peebee are both a bit disappointed that the Tempest only seems to carry rather ugly, standard-issue coffee cups and glasses.)

And Sara doesn’t really know what to do – Liam is coordinating everything already, so she can’t take on that role, the one she usually adopts as the Pathfinder. But it’s easily decided for her, it seems, when her crewmembers look her up one-by-one to ask her for advice. Lexi wants her to taste the wine, Peebee wants her to make the final decision on whether to drag Liam’s couch to Sara’s quarters or not, Drack wants to hear her opinion on Krogan battle arena cinema, and Suvi wants her – not Jaal – to taste the first cake straight out of the oven.

(SAM says nothing about it, so she assumes it’s safe.)

Against all expectations, it’s delicious; another little taste of home in a galaxy that’s starting to feel more and more familiar. When she tells Suvi this, the woman looks intensely proud, smiling widely.

“That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it, Sara? Finding some humanity here among the stars. Together.”

And off she goes, preparing the next batch.

Jaal is also busy at work, calibrating a strange-looking device together with Gil that’s supposed to add another layer to their movie experience – a layer that’s important to angara, at least. Every time they pass ways – in the corridors, in her quarters, in the hold – he smiles broadly, giving her a little wave. Gil rolls his eyes every single time as well, dragging the angara away by his arm or the back of his rofjinn, but it doesn’t deter Jaal in any way.

It does weird little things to Sara’s heart and stomach; how unapologetic he is with his love, how honest and open. How he seems to want to take any and every moment to say – Sara, you are beautiful, and I love you. It’s like diving into a warm bath, heating you up all the way to your core, tingling down your skin, and it’s pretty much all your childhood hopes about romance come true. Sara’s hopes, at least.

Only now it’s tall, pink, and handsome. Big blue eyes with galaxies in them, and warm skin that leaves a sharp and zesty taste on her tongue. Hands that can span her entire back, clever fingers that can crook just right. Strong legs with thighs made to sit on, narrow hips to wrap her own legs around. A hot mouth laving wet trails over her neck, her belly, her hips; a raspy tongue tingling everything in its path. Everything quite literally electrifying, from his chest all the way down to his thick, gorgeous –  

“Sara, what do you think about the screen?” Peebee asks, gesturing towards the large screen they’ve put up in Sara’s quarters. “Large enough, or do you want it bigger?”

SAM pops up on their private channel. “More innuendo, I take it?” he inquires innocently.

I think I’m the one who’s been taking it, she shoots mentally at SAM, who wisely doesn’t add anything else to the conversation. Sara desperately tries to morph her face into a normal, neutral expression, ending up nodding while pulling at the collar of her jacket. “Looks fine to me,” she says semi-casually, “just, uh, big enough.”

Peebee nods. “Thought so.” Then, she does another takeover of Sara, narrowing her eyes. “Are you blushing?”

“No,” says Sara firmly.

Of course, Jaal and Gil chose that moment to walk in, carrying the device they’ve finished finicking with, and she’s confronted with a full view of Jaal’s behind as they turn and put the device down on the floor, next to the screen Peebee was pointing at. Jaal’s big arms weren’t even straining with the effort as they carried it, whereas Gil looks like he’s worked up quite the sweat.

She instantly remembers those arms bare; how they looked around and above her, and how tension eased and sprang back with each push of his fingers inside of her.

Peebee starts grinning, giving Sara a look. “I get it,” she winks, “who wouldn’t daydream about that, right?”

Shit, Sara thinks, feeling the flush work its way up her cheeks while she threateningly moves towards Peebee, but the asari laughs and is already sauntering out of the room, back on her way to the galley. Going after her now would only pull more attention to the whole situation, and that’s the last thing Sara wants.

Sure, Peebee might tell Vetra and Drack, who are currently overseeing preparations in the kitchen – but that’s better than telling Gil or, heaven forbid, Lexi. Knowing Drack, he’d say something like, “Good on the kid”, and Vetra would pretend not to care but be secretly happy for Sara. Sweet as she is to everyone on the crew.

But Sara barely has time to think about Peebee and Drack and Vetra and their hypothetical conversation and get her cheeks back to their normal color, because Jaal is already walking up to her, his and Gil’s machine semi-installed.

“My darling one!” he exclaims, smiling broadly, taking her hand in his and using his other arm to make a broad sweep of the room. “Already quite the sight, your room. I am most certainly looking forward to tonight.” He leans closer, face inches from hers. “The cakes Suvi baked are good, hmm? I tasted them second after you did.”

I want to devour you in the best way.

Sara practically feels her cheeks light up even more than they were before; surely any ship in the near vicinity would be able to pick up just how much red she’s emitting like some sort of lighthouse. There are way too many people walking casually in and out of the room, and Jaal looks as ridiculously happy as he always does, but his big hand around hers and his close proximity aren’t helping. At all.

And normally she’d say something, maybe tease him, maybe tell him that she’s gotten in the mood at the weirdest of times, and that SAM has discovered innuendo, but –

Movie night. Everybody in her room. Jaal asking about cakes.

“Sara?” he presses gently, brow now raised. His thumb is doing a very distracting thing to her palm. “You’re quite red.”

“I’m-fine-and-yes-the-cakes-are-great,” she breathes out, almost like one word. “Love them. Really looking forward to tonight, too. Good things happening.” She slips her hand out of his grasp in an attempt to distance herself a bit and get her control back, but then Jaal looks down at their hands a little dejectedly.

And ouch, that hurts. He should never feel like his affections are unwelcome or unwanted, because it’s rather the opposite, so Sara immediately grasps his hand again and squeezes it for good measure.

“Jaal,” she says, “it’s not that. I’m – I’m just – there’s…” She facepalms, sighing. “I was thinking about you, and then Peebee teased me about it, and then you took my hand and I remembered…”

It would be really quite nice if a black hole came along right now and sucked her in it, sparing her this awkward, half-whispered conversation. She’s also still blushing.

But then Jaal is gently stroking his hand over hers again, expression gone from worried to observing; he watches her carefully, eyes lingering on the flush on her cheeks, and then back to her joined hands again. She can’t guess what he’s thinking, only that he seems to grow even more attractive like this – gaze intense and thoughtful, face relaxed, focused only on her. Like she’s the center of his gravity, the center of his galaxy; he a planet orbiting her, its sun, warmed and loved by its light. No, better yet: two neutron stars orbiting each other, blinding in their light and mass, sending electromagnetic waves all across space – and to each other.

“Sara,” he says then, voice lower, “do you want me?”

No stammer this time, but still almost the same question. And gods she’s all the way back at the lake on Aya again, Jaal moving above her, eyes lighter and more profound than the stars she viewed above his face in the night sky. It lights her up all the way from the inside, much like he did, near the end.

“Yeah?” she says, and it comes out more as a squeak and a question than an actual statement.

Jaal smiles. “Well, now that you mention it, I would also very much enjoy…”

“Jaal,” Sara hisses, interrupting him because Cora is standing only a few meters away, “there’s people. Everywhere.”

His eyes shift briefly to the side. “The bathroom and showers seem empty, as is the tech lab.”

She’d throw up her hands in the air if he wasn’t holding them. “Oh my god,” she half-whispers, “I can’t. I probably wouldn’t be able to get in the mood knowing that everybody’s looking for me while we do it, and then after we come out of the room everybody will know what we’ve been doing!”

Jaal lightly shrugs his heavy shoulders, still smiling. “Right. You are rather loud, darling one.” He bends his head, bringing her hands up to his mouth, kissing them. “Later, then, if you would?”

Sara is baffled, staring at him over their joined hands, at how casually he’s taking it – like it’s a normal thing. Well, wanting sex with your loved one is a normal thing, but he’s not questioning her desire or the timing of it. It’s… refreshing, somehow, that he’s not even teasing her about it, but just accepting it as is.

She feels a rush of affection at the thought.

“Is it normal for angara to just… whenever the mood strikes?” she asks carefully.

He nods. “When appropriate. We wear our emotions on the outside, after all.” He then smiles more slyly, blue eyes twinkling. “Another one of your human idioms? ‘In the mood’?”

“Yes,” Sara sighs, “and somehow I don’t think I need to explain it. But if you’re up for it, then yes.” She turns away briefly, eyeing Kallo who walks in with a stack of drives. “Later,” she adds with emphasis.

He laughs, a rich, beautiful sound while his head tips back a bit. “Of course. It makes me happy to know that you are…” His expression turns playful. “… in the mood, Sara.”

She rolls her eyes, feeling like she’s back on solid ground again. “Look at you, applying all those alien idioms,” she says, amused by how proud he looks.

“Sorry to interrupt, little lovebirds,” Gil says then, voice cutting through from the other side of the room, “but Jaal, I really need your work on this one. Testing the machine, see if she runs right. Can’t do that without you.”

Sara nods, slipping her hands out of Jaal’s grasp. “Duty calls, big guy.”

But he holds on, expression shifting from playful to serious, and brings one of her hands up to his mouth again, kissing the inside of her palm this time. He closes his eyes and takes his time; it’s a slow kiss, his lips sliding lower from her palm towards her wrist, and then there’s the briefest flick of his tongue against her pulse. He smiles knowingly, lets her hand fall out of his, and walks over to Gil.

“Of course, my friend! What setting is it on?” she hears Jaal bellow as he kneels down next to Gil and their contraption, back turned towards her.

Sara’s cheeks are slowly starting to feel normal again, but now there’s a different kind of heat warming her; lower, licking up into her like a lazy flame burning. Because now she has a promise tucked away in her palm – a promise of their first repeat performance since their time on Aya, a promise of that same urgency and eagerness and sex – and that makes the prospect of movie night even better than it already was.

It takes a couple of more hours of people fiddling with things and being excited, and then finally, the shenanigans start. With the amount of food and drink they’ve amassed, Vetra has decided to let their dinnertime morph into movie-night-time, snacks set up almost aesthetically around Sara’s quarters on desks, tables, and boxes from the cargo hold. The appearance of old-fashioned popcorn is especially a treat to Sara, who can’t really remember the last time she sat down with Scott, a shared bag of popcorn on their laps, and watched a solid action flick.

Dragging Liam’s couch into Sara’s quarters seems to be one of the smartest moves; it fits about four people, maybe five if one of them sits down on one of the arms, and maybe even six if it gets real cozy. They’ve put up a row of chairs behind it, and of course Vetra immediately takes one in the back, mindful of her height.

Peebee and Kallo settle in front with Cora; the latter one leans comfortably on Liam’s legs, looking more at ease in a setting like this than Sara would initially expect. And Liam, of course, rules the night – he knows everything there is to know about Last of the Legion, providing some scenes with much-needed context and others with interesting or funny commentary (Sara will not likely forget the legendary phrase “excessive turian flexing”, and Vetra’s indignation at it).

And of course Kallo remarks on everything that’s not entirely scientifically plausible – such as cool explosions in space making noise – but it’s all in good humor. Cora and Gil are constantly providing ideas on the best course of action that the protagonists could be taking, and Jaal and Liam banter happily through it. Meanwhile, Peebee cares more about the alcohol than the movie itself, which isn’t that surprising.

(Not from a Peebee standpoint, and also not from a movie standpoint. It’s definitely not the best film Sara’s ever seen.)

Meanwhile, perched right in the middle of them all in the center of the couch, Sara sits, feeling precious and loved. It’s great to have them together as a big family for once, having fun and bantering and commenting on silly stuff – like special effects and dramatic dialogue – rather than serious, life-threatening stuff. At one point, she even forgets about what they’re actually doing here in space, simply enjoying the moment as is.

Then, of course, Cora and Gil are challenging her to ham it up even more than the turian actor in the movie, and well, she did grow up watching reruns of sci-fi from the 1960s – so it’s pretty easy to bend herself over Kallo’s ‘dead’ body and cry her eyes out while uttering a dramatic ‘Noooooo!’ that’s even worse than the one they just saw on-screen.

It earns her a round of applause, and despite the silliness of it all, it makes her heart swell.

Of course, since this is the epic, legendary, faithfully restored, director’s cut version of Last of the Legion, it’s almost excessively long – even though they skipped some of the turian flexing to Vetra’s regret. So by the time the end is in sight, the protagonists involved in an elaborate and semi-soulful confession of love for each other, half of the crew is dozing off.

Sara is still awake, watching the love scene unfold, but with that luscious kind of floaty sleepiness over her; happy, cozy, cocooned. It also helps that some rearranging’s been done during the past hour, and it’s now Jaal’s bulk she’s leaning comfortably against. He’s got his arm wrapped around her shoulders, a welcome weight to snuggle with, and sometimes they sneak little glances at each other, smiling. She’s pulled her legs up on the couch, too, knowing that Drack wouldn’t mind it if she’s encroaching a bit on his personal space.

But now the credits are rolling, and Liam is the first to speak, stretching his muscles lazily. “Well,” he says pointedly, voice a little raspy, “I take it that this was a success?”

“Next time, I would prefer something with a better script,” Lexi answers, sounding like she’s the only one who’s still fully awake.

Peebee yawns. “I’m so ready for bed,” she sighs, slowly getting up and flexing. “Ta-ta, everyone. I’ll help clean up tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon, that is.”

That’s kind of the starting sign for everyone to start moving – Suvi, Vetra, and Drack gather the dirty cups and plates, moving them to the galley, and Kallo and Liam work together to get the disks and the screen out of the way. Gil and Jaal carry their mysterious device back to the hold, and Lexi appears to make notes in her log. Sara can’t suppress a smile; of course the doctor has to jot down her observations on the crew as soon as she can. Lexi wouldn’t be Lexi if she wouldn’t always not-so-secretly be doing her job.

They also mutually decide that the couch is too heavy and all the chairs too much effort for now, so they leave it for Peebee and the next day. Liam is the last to leave, and Sara hugs him before he goes, thanking him for coming up with the idea and organizing and coordinating this. He gives her a smile she won’t soon forget.

And then it’s just her and Jaal, and a suddenly very empty room looking straight out into space.

Jaal is smiling at her, but she fiddles a bit nonetheless; thinks about putting on music, but she has no idea what angara like listening to. Maybe the quiet is enough.

She walks up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, leaning her head against his chest. She’s never been very short or small, but it’s still hard to embrace him fully, with just how much there is of him. She hums, taking in his scent; fresh, clear, with a slightly flowery undertone. If anything, she’d describe it as the scent of a plumeria; another remnant of Earth buried within her memories, the real thing never able to resurface again.

“That was a great time,” she murmurs against him.

Beneath her cheek, Jaal’s chest rumbles in agreement, and he runs a hand through her hair. The other is wrapped around her waist. “Sara,” he says, in the way he does whenever he wants to ask a question.

“Yeah, Jaal?” she asks, half-expecting him to bring up sex. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing. She’s sleepy, but not that sleepy.

“What words to you use to refer to a loved one?”

It’s so unexpected that she lifts her head up to look at him; his face is pensive. “What, like cute nicknames and such? Like the way you use ‘darling’ for me?”

He nods, both arms wrapped around her now, leaning his upper body a bit away from her so he can keep looking her in the eye. Sara does the same.

“Well,” she says, racking her brain for the most obvious ones, “darling is one that we use, too. And uh, things like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’. Sweetie, even. I mean, we humans love our sugary stuff, obviously.” She laughs, but Jaal doesn’t join in.

“Uh,” she continues, starting to feel nervous, “babe or baby, that’s pretty common too. And using other nouns or adjectives works as well – like saying ‘Hey beautiful’ or calling your partner ‘love’.”

He tilts his head to the side slightly. “What do you want to call me? If this is a tradition amongst human lovers, then I would be very partial to such a… term of endearment.”

It suddenly clicks in Sara’s head. “Oh my god,” she exclaims, “are you sad because I never call you nicknames?”

Jaal’s expression grows softer. “Not sad, Sara. But angaran’s expressions of love are loud, are they not?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “You should’ve said something sooner. I’ve not…” she pauses, briefly looking away. “Look, I’ve not had a lot of long-term, serious lovers. It’s not a thing I’m used to doing. But you, you’re special.” She leans in, kissing his cheek. “I’ll call you anything you want.”

His smile slowly grows, and he leans in closer. “Is that a promise?” he asks, voice low. The hands on her waist slide lower, grasping her hips. Obviously, he hasn’t forgotten.

She grins, jutting her chin forward. “Depends on what you had in mind, sweetheart.”

Now Jaal’s smile is truly reaching luminous levels of magnitude and Sara untangles herself from his grasp in response, pushing him towards the couch. He hits it with the back of his legs, upsetting his balance, but he seems to grasp her intent immediately and sits down without question. Next, he reaches out, arms open to catch her in them, but she doesn’t sit down on his lap. Not yet.

“Jaal,” she says, “darling, I think it’s my turn tonight.”

He raises his brow. “Dearest, I think you had a great turn last time. But if this is your wish…” The sentence tapers off into nothingness, and then Jaal is lifting his arms to take off his rofjinn, followed by undoing the front clasps of his armor.

Sara smiles, watching – this is a lot different than Aya, where she felt like she was drowning in his presence and the idea of finally sleeping with him, where the water lapped at her knees and the sun warmed her skin. It was a little bit hazy, like some sort of distant tropical dream, and they made love under a waterfall for goodness’ sake.

But here in her quarters, with only dim light coming from her bedside table lamp, and the stars clear behind her – no atmospheric interference to lessen their shine – it feels infinitely more tangible. She knows what he looks like underneath, but looks nonetheless, drinking in his presence. This is Jaal, slowly undressing himself in her quarters, and it’s everything that’s able to convince her that what happened up until now wasn’t just a long, romantic dream from her aching teenage years.

(Though she probably wouldn’t have been able to concoct such a brilliant specimen as him anyway.)

She watches him effortlessly slip the sleeves down his arms, shucking the upper part of his armor off and away, the rofjinn folded over the far part of the couch. Tries to look more in-depth at his skin – to see whether the pink-and-white is mottled with birthmarks somewhere, whether he has freckles, if there are any scars running up the length of his arms.

There are scars, of course – he’s a Resistance fighter, after all - some smaller, lighter ones that are barely visible, a few bigger ones over his shoulder. And his birthmarks appear to be white; tiny spots scattered here and there over the pink, as if an artist splattered a canvas with white paint.

And then he stands up – bottom half needs to go too, of course – and his eyes never leave hers as he hooks his thumbs into the material at his waist. He waits for just a few seconds, and Sara barely notices she’s holding her breath. He looks just as gorgeous as he did the first time, and this, her lover waiting for her with his hands shamelessly low on his hips and ready for anything, is almost too much.

She meets his eyes, he smiles, and there’s the slide. It’s amazing how easily he’s able to kick the whole thing off in one go with the way his lower legs are shaped, but she supposes he’s had some practice considering how fast he got out of them on Aya. Then it’s Jaal standing before her in all his naked glory, a brilliant smile on his face – the first time this happened, Liam was there, and Sara was scared to look down any further than Jaal’s hips.

But now she’s ridden those hips in full abandon and came on them at least twice, so she figures she’s owed a look or two. And it’s glorious; she loves how textured his skin is, all whorls and hills and valleys where there are none on humans.

“You look fantastic,” she says, throat dry.

“I know,” he answers back, smiling, his eyes skirting up and down her form. “You look fully clothed still, Sara.”

The way he says it, it sounds almost like it’s a travesty, a waste – and it probably is.

So Sara moves into some sort of a wild scramble in trying to get her clothes off, but luckily she’s not wearing any shoes or complicated gear – her shirt whips off over her head soon enough, and she kicks off her pants unceremoniously. Meanwhile, Jaal sits down on the couch, leaning back with his arms behind his head. He’s still smiling, legs stretched lazily, eyes bright and appreciative.

It’s such a confident posture that Sara literally drops her panties and dumps them with the rest of her clothes. No use anyway.

Jaal’s smile morphs into a smirk, and she gives him a look for it, shaking her head. He holds a hand out to her then, and she grasps it eagerly. It’s so easy to step up and swing a leg over his; to straddle his thighs like she’s meant to be here. The way she’s sitting, her own legs are angled open to such a degree that he can practically look into her from his vantage point, but Sara doesn’t care. She just wants.

She shivers when his hands settle; one low on her hip, the other over her ass. He’s so warm, skin humming with unsung energy, his thighs trembling just a tad beneath her own. She slides her hands up over his chest, starting with his ribs, moving up over the high chestpiece that morphs into his arms and neck, only for her arms to settle over his shoulders. She brushes her fingers lightly over the scar on his neck, and Jaal makes a rumbly noise below her, eyes closed.

“Jaal,” she says quietly, “show me what you like. We only got to the, uh, urgent bits last time.”

He opens his eyes, and the intensity of the blue still shocks her. “Ah,” he murmurs, “so that is what you meant by wanting to take your turn.” He reaches back, taking her hands in his, and smiles. “Here. I’ll show you, Sara.”

And he directs her hands in such a careful and precious way that it almost feels like he thinks she’ll break – but it’s more than that. The vulnerability, the gravity of the moment; of her focused completely on him, the bonds between them pulling taut.

He lets her hands flutter over the sides of head, where there are grooves and folds, the ones emitting soft purple light; then slides lower, over his throat and down to the very base of it. He hums when she touches him there, giving her a small smile.

Lower again, skipping his chest almost entirely; here, he rests her palms briefly on the inside of his hips. Then to the back, and she wiggles her fingers until she can get them between the couch’s pillows and his behind – she squeezes and he laughs, but nods nonetheless. It’s sensuous and new, this thing, and Sara follows with eagerness as he lets her fingers draw down the inside of his arms, his wrist, his palm.

Back up all the way to his neck and shoulders, and he shifts forward so she can touch the back of them; where the grooves of his head and his shoulder muscles both morph together in an intricate pattern that she knows so well from when he stepped into the lake on Aya. He lets her flutter her fingers over it, sighing softly, and then he grasps her hip with one hand to steady her, leaning forward even further.

It presses their chests together, her heat against his flat stomach, and he smiles, drawing back his arm. He guides her fingers over the way the pattern droops down all the way down in a V-shape towards the small of his back, ending just above his pelvis.

Then, he leans back again, both hands on her hips. “That is the most of it,” he says. “The remaining place… you are already comfortable with, I fear.”

She laughs, leaning her forehead against his. “I am. Thank you for showing me.”

He raises his brow playfully. “Do you not have something to show me as well?”

Sara frowns, staring back at him in puzzlement. “Did I miss something? You were pretty damn thorough last time we did this, love.”

He seems inordinately pleased with all the nicknames she’s been dropping, but then sits up straighter, regaining his focus. He pointedly looks down at her chest, and back up to her. When she doesn’t speak, he repeats the motion, but more slowly, head tipped lightly to the side.

“Ah,” Sara says, also staring down at her breasts, “those.”

Jaal nods with a serious expression on his face. “Angara do not have them, and my own chest is not that sensitive. But it recently came to my understanding, darling one, that yours is. And I appear to have regretfully neglected this aspect of you so far.”

“Well,” Sara shrugs, “you’re welcome anytime. If I were you, I’d focus on…”

He interrupts her before she can finish her sentence; lifts his palms up to her, folding his hands in hers as well as he can. The question is unspoken, but it’s the same one she asked only moments earlier.

Show me what you like.

Sara bites her lip, and leads his hands to her breasts; one on each, guiding his grip to be gentle. He stares at them in wonder, giving a light squeeze when she directs him to, and his blue eyes immediately flick up to her face to gauge her reaction. She sighs softly, arching her back to press herself forward into his warm palms. It’s different, so different, because his hands are big and he only has three fingers but he’s enveloping them almost fully –

She closes her eyes shortly, breathes out and tries to get herself back under control; she looks him in the eye as she shifts the way his hands fit around her until his thumbs are pointing up slightly. Her nipples have already hardened under his touch, the peaks standing out, and she presses gently at his thumbs, hovering over them. Then, she lets her own hands drop from his, waiting.

The first brush of his thumbs already has her biting down on a moan, pressing forward in his lap. His eyes aren’t even on his hands, but still on her face; observing her tells, watching her breathe deep with every twist of his hands. He lifts one of them, flicking his thumb and forefinger over her nipple much like he did to her clit last time, and she cries out.

“So sensitive,” he comments softly, “dear Sara.”

She leans forward, face buried in his neck. “Only for you, Jaal,” she sighs, “only for you.” And she cups his face, directing his mouth towards hers, claiming their first kiss of the night.

He embraces her again, and she takes to running her fingers up and down the largest groove on his head that’s within reach; almost teasingly, just a flutter of a touch through the soft purple-pinkish glow that he’s emitting from there. But it appears to be incredibly effective, with the way he loses control and moans rather loudly into a kiss that’s soon moving into the messy, sloppy territory.

Sara sucks on his bottom lip, drawing it between hers and running her teeth against it – it makes his hands clench at her back and his breath stutter for a moment, and she feels powerful in turn. She leaves his mouth behind, his increased breathing still touching upon her cheek, and kisses lower; to his chin, where she tongues the darker stripe over it, and over to the front of his throat.

There’s a little bob there like there is in most humans, and with both hands squeezing his shoulders, she sucks at softly, not wanting to leave any mark – yet. His hips jerk towards hers, and she’s sure that she’s dripping slick onto his thighs by this point. He sure seems to notice, one hand squeezing high on her thigh, his thumb ghosting over the side of her.

“Darling,” he breathes, voice strained.

Sara shifts, going lower – because this isn’t supposed to be about her, but about him. And she starts kissing down his chest, mouth warm and soft; mouthing down to the very center, she slides off of his legs slowly, moving away.

“Don’t move,” she says with a teasing smile, pressing a finger to her lips, and skips off towards the bed, ignoring the surprise on his face. She easily grabs one of the pillows, plonks it to the floor between Jaal’s feet, and then leans down to place her palms on his knees, giving him a predatory grin.

Jaal flushes purple; it’s the brightest she’s ever seen him do. “Shit,” he says, and it’s so earnest that it almost makes her laugh. It’s not often that he loses his eloquence like that.

She kneels down, her own knees softly cushioned by the pillow, and runs her palms smoothly over his legs. He angles them out on his own, spreading them wider than before; and she smiles up to him as a thank-you. Leaning in, she runs her hands over his belly, pressing a kiss to the spot where there would be a bellybutton in humans, but where there’s nothing but smooth, lean skin here. Her breasts brush against the inside of his thighs, making her shiver, and she noses down one hipbone, pressing tiny kisses against the curve of it.

He sighs, belly quivering beneath her mouth, one hand hesitantly coming up to cradle her head. She allows it with a smile, kissing the other hipbone in turn, using her hands to caress his thighs. Again, his hips twitch up toward her, as if they’re trying to follow her mouth, and she tongues almost all the way down his hipbone in response with a little suck at the base. His breath hitches, followed by a low, broken noise, and his hand tightens in her hair.

There’s more folds and grooves here, mostly pink and purple; ones she hasn’t examined in detail, yet. They curve inward from both his hipbones down to his crotch, disappearing in the back. Most of them appear to be centered around the base of his cock, glistening a bit in the low light, and Sara suspects that his cock might retract when he’s not aroused, somehow. The softness of the curves and the way they seem built to protect something hidden inside reminds her rather of how she’s built herself.

It sparks a certain delight inside of her; what would it be like to work him from the very start, coax him out with tongue and fingers? Gods, probably a feast.

She kisses the base of his cock, dipping the tip of her tongue into the largest groove shallowly. The moan that follows is almost close to a sob, and Jaal rolls his hips against her, cock bumping against her nose.

“Is there something you want?” she asks innocently, kissing her way around him, pressing her thumbs into his hipbones. She noses at the underside of his cock, letting her breath ghost over him.

Jaal sighs, both hands coming up to rest gently on her head. “Please,” he begs, “take me into your mouth, sweetheart.”

And shit, that does things to her – his voice breaking, low and rumbly and all hers, and the way he’s calling her by a word she taught him only moments earlier. So she decides to have mercy on them both, and slips one hand between her own thighs, using the other to hold him steady.

She presses an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, barely letting it slip between her lips. That strange but delightful pulse is already there – the electricity almost sharper, stronger, so close to her face. She runs her lips over him and they’re soon tingling with a pleasant buzz. She hums at the feel of it; it’s a bit fizzy, like an alcoholic drink with bubbles tingling its way down her throat.

And that thought is about all the incentive she needs to slip more of him in, her hand still around the base of his cock. The pulse zaps invitingly across her tongue as she licks him and swirls her tongue around the head, deciding that this is definitely something she could get used to. The fingers of her other hand twitch between her folds, rubbing a bit more insistently.

Jaal moans loudly, his big thighs shaking, and one of his hands leaves her hair to clench into a tight fist on his leg. She slips her mouth off of him briefly, grinning up. He’s staring down at her as if he can’t quite believe what she’s doing, his expression wanting and tense. Blue eyes flicker down to her wet lips, and she sees his throat bob with the effort as he swallows.

“Hold on tight,” she whispers, “and you know, hair is a thing you can pull. Gently.”

She sees his eyes widen before she sucks him in halfway, tongue teasing the underside. And then he’s throwing his head back against the couch, eyes closed, the hand in her hair tightening. The noise escaping him is a shocked, guttural thing, his hips tilting up reflexively. She gently runs her nails along the inside of his leg, trying to calm him a bit before sinking him deeper into her mouth.

Jaal gasps something that doesn’t even fully translate, hips rolling.

Sara can’t suppress her smile around his cock, flicking her tongue against him. She uses her other hand to stroke at the base, the gap between her mouth and fingers slowly getting smaller. It’s been a very long time since she did this and his largeness is quite off the scale, but if she takes it slow, it should work out just fine – she hums, trying to relax her throat, and that earns her another moan and a litany in his own language.

There’s also a peak in static electricity coming from him that flutters over her tongue and mouth; she blinks, realizing it’s making some strands of her hair fizz out and stand on end. She half-laughs at it, amused, and the vibrations are obviously teasing him; he jerks his hips towards her mouth sharply, as if he can’t control it. The beat and pulse in his cock grow stronger, more erratic, and Sara sucks harder at him in response.

She also presses two fingers into herself, crooking her hand as best she can – the insides of her thighs are wet with her arousal, and the friction of her fingers pumping makes her sigh heavily. His hands would be better – bigger, fuller, easier access – but having him at her mercy like this? She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Focusing on getting him deeper, she slowly slides her lips lower, briefly halting the swirling of her tongue around him. He’s already getting there – her lips are touching her fingers around his cock and she removes her hand, steadying her breathing. She looks up and catches his gaze.

He looks completely and utterly wrecked – his skin a radiant shine, the vents and grooves on his head and back emitting a stronger purple-pinkish light, and his face is deeply flushed. The hand in her hair is trembling, and he’s brought the other up to his mouth in a fist, breathing heavily. His blue eyes look dark; the black of the sclera and his cat-eye pupil closing in on each other, swamping the bright, starry blue of the iris.

“D-Darling one,” he manages to get out, voice nearly breaking in half a gasp, “you are amazing. The way you take me into you so easily, so deep…”

He has difficulty continuing, briefly closing his eyes, chest heaving with the acceleration of his breath. “You are a miracle, a delight, I cannot properly describe – ”

Sara raises her eyebrow at him and slips her fingers out of her wetness, placing both of her hands on his hips. With a slight ache to her jaw and her mouth filled so thoroughly, it is difficult to grin up to him, but she hopes her intent comes across nonetheless.

Jaal looks surprised. “Are you not…? Sara?”

Nope, she thinks, I’m not done yet, and she takes a deep breath and sinks down all the way, hollowing out her cheeks, her nose brushing against the folds around the base of his cock. He brushes far past the back of her throat and in reflex, she tightens around him, swallows; his cock pulses back in response, and Jaal cries out her name.

She’s found her rhythm now, though, fingers tightening around him, and she starts bobbing her head up and down – every single time she sinks down, he slides all the way home, and it’s such a satisfying feeling. She feels so full like a bubble bursting, and it forces her jaw further open in only slight discomfort – the kind of burn that only makes you want to do this more rather than less.

She balances on her knees, leaning forward and increasing her pace. The fizzy, tingling feeling is all across the inside of her throat now, warming her up, and somehow it makes it easier to take him in all the way. She wraps one hand around his, the one in her hair, and squeezes, letting his fingers hook in the strands.

Jaal’s hand trembles as he does so, but she feels a slight pull, and then he’s gently tugging her hair in time with her thrusts. His hips find more purchase, too – pushing along with her rhythm, making the slide of his cock into her even smoother, even easier. She lets him slide out almost the entire way before she sucks him back in again, her lower lip against a particularly soft pink curve at the underside of his cock.

“If…” Jaal starts, his head thrown back and throat exposed beautifully.

She sucks a little harder, head bobbing faster, and the sentence immediately distorts in a series of low moans and heavy breaths, Jaal’s hips pumping harder. She lets one hand tickle up his abdomen, searching for his free hand – laces their fingers together, squeezing.

To his credit, he tries again.

He opens his eyes, the blue still so dark. “Sara, if you want – if you want to enjoy me in other ways, you have to…” – he halts, bites his lip as she swallows around him again – “… we have to stop, because I can’t – ”

Sara slows her motions down but keeps him inside nonetheless, raising her eyebrows at him in question. It doesn’t matter to her– if he wants to come like this, it’s more than fine. She doubts he would refuse a chance afterwards to help her reach her own slice of oblivion.

His expression softens and he leans forward towards her, cupping her face. “You’re so good,” he half-whispers, “but I want you to relax now. Let me take over some of the heavier work for you, darling one.”

She lets him slide out of her mouth gradually, an audible pop as he slips out from between her lips, and Jaal visibly suppresses a shiver and another jerk of his hips, fingers twitching. Sara smiles up to him, wiping her lips.

“Excuse my language, but you taste fucking fantastic,” she grins, arms leaning on his thighs. “I could’ve kept that up for a lot longer, if you wanted to.”

Jaal lightly shakes his head, his fingers carding through her hair. “You are a treasure. The experience was…” he sighs, low and deep, eyes fluttering closed. “… immensely rewarding. And entirely new.”

That surprises Sara. “I thought, with the enthusiastic way you went down on me, that oral is something that your people also do? During sex?”

He laughs, bending further to lean his forehead against hers. “Well, yes,” he nods, amused, “but we are unable to take it quite as far as you did, sweetheart. I honestly did not expect that your throat would accommodate it.” His eyes meet hers. “Nor that you would do it with such eagerness.”

She smiles, feeling confident. “It’s a neat little trick, huh? Not quite that easy to master, but entirely possible.” She pauses, tilting her face up towards his mouth. “You said something about taking over?”

Jaal’s gaze turns more focused again, intense. Carefully, he drags his thumb over her bottom lip, which is swollen and flushed from being wrapped around him. “I want to take my time,” he whispers, “and I want to take you slow, Sara.”

“Please,” she sighs, kissing his thumb, “I’m all up for it.”

He scoots back up on the couch, then, drawing her up by her hands. She almost stumbles while kicking the pillow away, and Jaal is sweet enough to rub at her knees to get the circulation going again. They share a few kisses like that: his hands on her knees, she bent at the waist to reach his mouth. She runs her fingers over the side of his head, passing the three piercings in his left lobe with her index finger.

Jaal smiles. “Handsome, don’t you think?”

“Try badass for starters,” she laughs back. She slides her hands around to cup his face and winks. “Beat-up armor, enticing scars, soulful eyes…”

That makes him laugh, full-bellied and happy. “Classic irresistible hero,” he adds with twinkling eyes.

She kisses the back of his hand. “Charming, darling.” She shakes out her legs one final time, already bending one knee so she can straddle his thighs, but Jaal stops her in her tracks.

“Wait, Sara,” he murmurs, “I have an idea.”

Still holding one of her hands, he shifts until his back is resting properly against the backrest, crossing his legs over one another on the seat of the couch. Then, he smiles, fingers brushing over her wrist. “Turn around.”

And wow, Sara is very much onboard with this idea, so she throws him a mischievous smile over her shoulder as she turns, carefully leaning back. He helps her sit down on his lap, his cock a heavy line against her ass.

“Like this?” she asks, craning her head back, already a little breathless.

He nods, bending down to kiss the slope of her neck. His fingers brush her hair back tenderly, kisses turning more insistent, and while he’s closing his mouth around the part where neck becomes shoulder, his other hand is slipping down her belly. When his fingers brush over her without much ceremony, Sara sighs happily, letting herself lean back against him, one hand coming up to cradle his head.

There’s a hint of teeth on her shoulder as he slips his fingers lower; one circling her entrance, while his thumb flutters lightly over her clit. She moans, shifting impatiently, grinding herself back against his cock. It makes both of their breaths stutter, and Jaal’s fingers on her tremble as he sinks one in to the knuckle.

Sara cranes her head back further, managing to land a kiss on the corner of his mouth; sensing her intent, he helps out by tilting his face forward. Tipping her chin up with his other hand, they manage a heated kiss that’s all sighs and slow tongues, and eventually Sara lets her head fall back again because he’s doing something very distracting with his fingers.

Jaal continues kissing his way up her shoulders and neck, eventually reaching her ear; he blows some air against it, and she practically feels him smile against the shell as he flicks his tongue against it. She feels her skin tingle and burn up in his proximity, in his hands, surrounded by his scent and his body.

There is something slow and gradual about this kind of lovemaking – the urgency of earlier making place for a lazy, leisurely unfurling thing, like smoke curling up in the air from an extinguished candle. Sara’s fully immersed in it, barely registering anything beyond; shivers down her spine as Jaal’s lips and fingers chase the goosebumps on her skin like butterfly wings.

“Help me out?” he whispers below her earlobe, his thumb pressing more insistently against her.

She glances down at where his hand disappears between her thighs, already growing wet with her slick. “It’s okay,” she says, “I think I can take you like this. I just – ” she stops, wiggling back against him, but it’s hard to get any real leverage perched in his lap like this.

Jaal doesn’t stop kissing below her jaw and down the side of her throat while both his hands slide down to envelop her waist – and gods, that’s kind of hot – and he lifts her up, effortlessly, holding her just high enough. Like she weighs nothing, he noses almost absentmindedly at her shoulder, tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake.

She reaches down, finding his cock and lining them up; spreads her lips open over the tip of him, reaching her arm behind her back. Jaal lowers her back on him slowly, fingers clenching at her waist and his breath exhaling with a hiss. She holds him steady as best she can, and the quiet ascent of it all makes her appreciate just how well he fits, just how full she feels. They take their time in sliding him all the way home, giving Sara some time to adjust, and somehow that makes it even better, this deliberately measured drag inside of her.

They both shift a bit, finding a proper balance that has them comfortable, and the mere motion of him inside her makes Sara sigh. She tips her head back, dropping it against his shoulder, and he kisses her exposed throat in turn. Like this, he can do little but rock into her – but it’s absolutely delightful.

His hand slides down again, finding her clit, his hips rolling upwards toward her in tiny little circles. His cock is a constant pressure inside of her, barely shifting; like the ocean meets the beach, it’s similar to the tide currying the water back and forth over the sand. Rolling easily, pulled along by the gravity of the moon.

“You fit,” Sara says, just as Jaal pinches her clit between thumb and forefinger, “so well.”

Jaal smiles against her skin, sucking at the pulse point below her jaw. His breathing has gotten heavier again; she can feel his chest rise and fall against her back. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, darling one.”

There’s a little tease to his rumbling voice that drives her insane. She closes her eyes, clenching around him, almost fighting against her need to just take him hard and fast – this is so enjoyable, this quiet kind of love, but she’s an impatient woman, sometimes. She runs her nails over the curves of his head, scratching at the bigger grooves, and that earns her a low moan.

He tilts his hips forward a bit, and his cock hits there and stays there, making Sara curse.

“Do you really need to hear more about your amazing performance?” she asks, trying to tease him back.

He slides both of his hands to her abdomen then; thumbs pointing up towards her belly button, his fingers partially over her mound, where her curls begin. The skin beneath his hands starts prickling, some sort of tension in the air, and he takes her earlobe into his mouth, a hint of teeth at its edge.

“The affections you cry out into the night,” he whispers, “are more than enough, Sara.”

And before she can formulate a clever retort, Jaal rocks his hips forward into her, and something sparks – like there’s a conduit running from where he’s placed his hands on his belly all the way to his cock inside of her, and it rushes deliciously throughout the core of her body.

“Oh gods,” Sara moans in surprise, rocking back against him, one hand reaching back to grab his shoulder as an anchor. It’s different than last time, when the energy was an intense burst, a peak that made the two of them sizzle and glow – this is more of a slow burn, a lighter and more conducted energy, like a little mass effect shield of its own spanning both their bodies.

It vibrates, as if it’s all separate loaded particles buzzing inside of her skin, and she’s trembling all over with the effort to keep herself upright – never been more grateful that she can lean back against him while her hips rock forward helplessly, searching release. He isn’t even touching her clit, but she feels the energy lap at it, connected directly to where his cock is pushing from inside her, straight against the spot where she loves it the most.

“Jaal,” she half-sobs, “I want to – ”

He rocks his hips again a little faster, thrusts still shallow. “Then take what you’ve earned, darling.”

She opens her eyes, legs shaking, and that is eventually her undoing.

Because against the backdrop of space, against the glowing stars and passing comets, against gas giant planets in the distance and moons surrounded by rings, against the vague shadow of an asteroid belt – she sees them. Bodies entwined, their skin aglow, the space between his hands on her lower belly emitting a faint light; his head tilted towards hers, lips hovering over her ear.

They are only half-visible in the reflection of her room’s outer dome, barely an outline of bodies and hands and lips, and space paints them, gives them color and mass as if they were a blank canvas. And gods, this image – of them luminous, of them as an integral part of the galaxy, of the horizons she wants so desperately to explore, of the love and stars in Jaal’s eyes, is what tips her over.

No warning this time – she just grabs Jaal’s shoulder tighter as she feels herself come undone, her hips a desperate stutter over his lap, and her thighs trembling with the effort. Her orgasm falls over her like a wave; steady, inescapable, cascading until she’s shaking with the aftershocks, the clench of her body over his still continuing.

Behind her, Jaal sighs long and deep with a murmur of her name, his hands slipping from her abdomen to grab her hips; he pumps up once, twice, his pelvis tight up against hers. The electricity vanishes with a soft crackle, and Jaal lets his head fall forward, face buried in her neck.

“Fuck,” Sara gasps out, shifting her hand from his shoulder to hold his nape. “That was intense.”

He chuckles against her skin, though he sounds rather out of breath. “A neat little trick, hmm?”

“Ha,” she laughs back, her breath slowing, “definitely. We’re doing that again sometime in the future.”

He presses a lazy kiss to her neck. “I love you, Sara.”

She giggles, feeling silly and light-hearted after such a profound round of the most amazing sex she’s ever had, and tickles her fingers over the side of his head. “I swear to love you, a thousand times, a thousand stars,” she says in her most dramatic voice, barely containing her laughter.

Jaal makes a noise against her that sounds very much like defeat, lifting her so that he can ease out of her. He sprawls back out over the couch, stretching out his legs, and she ends up half on top of him. “What was it again…?” he muses, and then: “Ah.”

Sara props herself up over his chest on an elbow, a huge shit-eating grin on her face.

He clears his throat, and says in almost an octave lower than his normal voice: “Our hearts are one. No enemy fleet, no sea of stars can ever separate us again.”

She bursts out laughing, leaning forward to press a kiss to his grinning mouth, running her fingers over his brow. “Perfect,” she decides, smiling. “You’re amazing, I love you, you’re the greatest person in the entire Andromeda galaxy, and you’ve really worn me out.”

He manages to look amused, sated, and happy all at once, his fingers back to running through her hair again. “Then let’s fall asleep, Sara. Your arms are all I need.”

They kiss one more time, and she manages to wiggle herself partially in the crook of his right arm, back pressed against the couch. She’s got one leg swung over his belly, and his arms rest around her shoulders and waist. He hums softly, pressing another kiss to the crown of her head, and their hearts beat as one while their breathing slows.

She’s never felt quite this comfortable and safe since she got out of cryo; stars above her, Jaal around her. The sleepiness from earlier and the late hour are catching up, making Sara comfortably dozy, and she’s already tucking her face further into the incline of Jaal’s chest when a familiar voice suddenly speaks up.

“Sara,” SAM says on their private channel, as if to get her attention.

She doesn’t say anything, but frowns annoyedly. What? she adds mentally.

“Now that you have winded down,” SAM continues, “I think it is prudent to remind you of the fact that you are currently lying atop Mr. Kosta’s couch.”

She’s back awake in an instant, eyes wide. “Shit,” she hisses.

“Which he and Ms. B’Sayle will likely wish to retrieve in the morning,” SAM continues, merciless, “though according to my predictions, Mr. Kosta will likely arrive earlier than Ms. B’Sayle.” Another pause. “My predictions calibrate his arrival after approximately three standard Earth hours from now.”

Sara groans into Jaal’s skin. From where she’s lying, all she can see is stars, a lot of naked angara, and her own bare legs – but there are undoubtedly stains, somewhere. Jaal stirs sleepily, one leg dangling off to the side.

She winces at the state of the poor couch, and concludes that Scott would have laughed his ass off.

“Considering your brother’s temperament, I am inclined to agree,” says SAM dryly.

Sara pretends to ignore him.